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thecrayonindisguise · 2 months ago

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Chapter 2: An Unexpected Connection|| Bonds and Barriers

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Original Female Character

Masterpost || << prev || next >>

Word Count: 12.5k

Warnings: no particular warnings

Summary: After their very first ball, Caterina and Teresa Medici make quite of an entrance at Lady Danbury’s ball, turning heads with their charm and captivating the attention of London's elite. Teresa effortlessly draws Lord Ducker into her orbit, while Caterina, determined to avoid emotional entanglements, catches the eye of Benedict Bridgerton. Their witty and fiery exchanges spark both curiosity and leave the ton abuzz with whispers about the enigmatic Medici sisters. As the days unfold, the tension between Caterina and Benedict becomes undeniable, hinting at a deeper connection that neither is prepared to face.

Authors Note: Heyy! How are you? I’m back with the second chapter, I hope you like it! I know...I wrote way too much but I wanted to introduce you better to the characters :) As always I apologize if you find any mistakes but English is not my first language

Dearest gentle readers,

As the glittering halls of Lady Danbury's annual ball came to life, it was clear that the season had officially begun, and with it, the customary swirl of gossip, intrigue, and, of course, scandal. The evening was a spectacle to behold, but rest assured, it is the guests rather than the décor that provided the most entertainment.

Fresh off the boat from Italy, two radiant gems have graced our shores and stirred the waters of the ton. Allow me to introduce the Medici sisters. The elder, Lady Caterina Medici, has taken to London society with an air of cool indifference that is certain to attract every gentleman's attention, and perhaps drive them mad with her elusiveness. Her wit is as sharp as her beauty, and I dare say, there was not a dull moment in her company. Though she spent much of the evening avoiding the dance floor, her conversations were anything but dull. One might wonder whether Miss Caterina is here for sport or something more substantial. If her interactions with the eligible bachelors of our society are any indication, we may find that her icy demeanor will melt only for the right match, or perhaps for no one at all.

And then there is the younger, Miss Teresa Medici, whose sweetness is as charming as her sister’s sharpness. She, too, seems well on her way to captivating hearts, but do not be deceived by her innocent smile. It seems the Medici twins are not just diamonds in the rough, but polished gems with a sharpness that can outwit even the most astute gentlemen. It appears also that Lord Edward Ducker, cousin to the esteemed Bridgertons, was seen twice on the dance floor with the enchanting Miss Teresa Medici. Could there be an alliance between the Scottish nobility and the Italian beauties of the season?

Speaking of which, one cannot ignore the Bridgertons, whose reputation for creating drama seems to persist. One cannot help but notice the sudden and fervent interest of none other than Benedict Bridgerton, the second son, known more for his artistic pursuits than for indulging in the formalities of our society, it is highly unusual to see Mr. Bridgerton so enamored by the charms of the ballroom. Could it be that the Medici allure has cast a spell on him as well? His eyes followed Caterina Medici throughout the evening, and one cannot help but wonder if a new romance is on the horizon.

As for the Queen’s search for this season’s diamond, the royal eyes have yet to make their decision. But make no mistake, dear readers, the Medici sisters have undoubtedly caught the attention of many, and it would surprise no one if one of them found herself the subject of such a coveted title.

In a season already filled with anticipation, one thing is certain: the Medici sisters have arrived, and London society may never be the same again.

Yours truly, Lady Whistledown

─────────

The early morning light crept into Caterina’s room as her maid, Vanessa, gently tried to rouse her from her slumber. "My lady?" Vanessa called softly.

"Mmmh?" Caterina groaned, her voice muffled by the plush pillows as she buried herself deeper under the covers.

"Your sister is ready, my lady. Your mother could come in any minute," Vanessa continued, moving gracefully across the room to draw open the curtains.

Caterina squinted against the light now pouring into the room. "But what day is it today? Is it a special day? Why do I have to wake up so early?" she moaned, pulling the blankets over her head.

"No, miss, it's not a special day," Vanessa chuckled, her tone lighthearted as she opened the first curtain. Caterina let out a noise of displeasure, squeezing her eyes shut against the invasion of daylight. "I shouldn’t have drunk so much last night," Caterina mumbled as she sat up groggily, her hair tousled from sleep. "Can you repeat to me the reason for this sudden awakening?" she asked, still half asleep, watching Vanessa move briskly around the room, opening the last curtain and then the window to let in fresh air.

"Your mother ordered me to wake you up early, miss," Vanessa explained. "It is possible that some gentlemen from last night’s ball may visit this morning, and you must prepare. Come on now, miss, we don't want to keep them waiting," she urged, gently pulling back the covers.

Caterina groaned in protest. "But I wanted to visit London today," she muttered, her voice full of disappointment.

"You can always do that with one of the gentlemen, my lady," Vanessa teased with a smirk as she began pulling out a fresh gown from the wardrobe. Caterina rolled her eyes while her fingers ran through her tousled hair as she let out a long sigh.

Vanessa bustled around the room, laying out a soft lavender morning gown on the settee. As Caterina slowly stood up, she cast a glance toward her maid, noticing the curious gleam in Vanessa’s eye.

“You look like you have something on your mind, Vanessa. Out with it,” Caterina said, her voice still groggy but edged with a faint smile.

Vanessa, clearly delighted at the invitation, couldn’t suppress her question any longer. “Well, my lady, how was it? Your first ball, I mean. It must have been grand! So many lords and ladies, so many suitors all vying for your attention.”

Caterina snorted, shaking her head as she padded barefoot across the room toward the vanity. “Oh, please. It was as grand as it was exhausting. There were far too many people pretending to be interested in me, and even more pretending not to be bored.”

Vanessa laughed softly, handing Caterina a silver brush to tame her wild locks. “I thought you might enjoy the excitement. Surely the dances were fun, no?”

Caterina rolled her eyes in the mirror as she brushed her hair, the sarcasm evident in her voice. “Yes, if by ‘fun’ you mean being twirled around by men who have absolutely no idea how to lead without stepping on your feet. Honestly, Vanessa, I had more fun watching the footmen trying to juggle trays of champagne than I did dancing with half of those gentlemen.”

Vanessa grinned, clearly amused by her mistress’s sharp tongue. “But there must have been at least one gentleman who caught your eye, no?”

Caterina raised a brow, pausing mid-brush. “If by ‘caught my eye,’ you mean nearly putting me to sleep with endless talk of their ‘family estates’ and ‘social connections,’ then yes, plenty of them caught my eye.”

She sighed dramatically, setting the brush down and standing. “One of them droned on about his collection of rare hunting dogs. Dogs, Vanessa! For nearly fifteen minutes. I think he expected me to be impressed by his…hound expertise,” Caterina continued with a smirk. “I swear, if I have to endure one more gentleman boasting about the length of his ancestral lineage, I’ll start taking naps during waltzes.”

Vanessa chuckled, shaking her head as she helped Caterina into her morning gown. “You’re always so sharp, my lady. But I’m sure there were some interesting moments at least? Or something exciting that happened?”

Caterina shrugged nonchalantly, fastening the delicate buttons at her wrists. “Oh, of course. There was a riveting debate over whether pheasant or venison made for a better roast. I was on the edge of my seat.”

The sarcasm was heavy in her voice, and Vanessa burst into laughter, unable to contain herself. “Pheasant or venison? I can’t imagine that conversation holding anyone’s attention for very long.”

“Exactly my point,” Caterina said with a wry smile. “And you should have seen the way they tried to impress me with their wit. One gentleman thought it clever to comment on the ‘exoticness’ of Italy as if I were some rare artifact on display.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened. “Oh no, he didn’t!”

Caterina waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, he did. And not only that, he mispronounced half the Italian words he tried to use to impress me. Terrible effort.”

The maid shook her head in disbelief. “I’m surprised you didn’t put him in his place, my lady.”

“Oh, I did,” Caterina said with a sly grin. “I smiled sweetly and thanked him for his ‘astounding knowledge’ of Italy, and then proceeded to ask if he could name one city other than Rome or Florence”

Vanessa stifled a laugh behind her hand. “And?”

“Let’s just say, his face turned as red as the drink he spilled on himself shortly after,” Caterina replied with a chuckle.

Vanessa finished lacing up the gown, her eyes still bright with amusement. “It sounds like you survived your first ball well enough. And surely, there are more to come.”

“Survived is the key word,” Caterina muttered, smoothing down the skirt of her gown. “At this rate, I’ll need an entire vineyard to get through the next one.”

Vanessa handed her the silver brush again, this time with a knowing smile. “Still, my lady, it seems you made quite the impression. I overheard some of the servants this morning, everyone’s talking about the Medici sisters.”

“Let them talk,” Caterina said with a sigh, turning back toward the vanity. “I have more pressing matters to worry about than who noticed me at a ball. Like figuring out how to avoid these tedious suitors for the rest of the season.”

Vanessa grinned as she stepped back, watching her mistress from the corner of the room. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find a way, my lady. You always do.”

Caterina smirked, glancing at herself in the mirror one last time. “That, Vanessa, is the only thing I can guarantee.”

─────────

The morning sun bathed the Bridgerton dining room in a soft golden hue, casting long shadows across the polished mahogany table. Breakfast was in full swing, with the usual hustle and bustle of a large family settling into their seats, but it wasn’t the food that occupied everyone’s attention this morning.

Violet Bridgerton, seated at the head of the table, looked out over her brood with her usual mix of fondness and light exasperation. Next to her, Anthony sat with his arms crossed, eyes sharp as he observed the lively conversation between his siblings. Francesca was engaged in a quiet discussion with Colin, while Eloise, true to form, had a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, occasionally glancing up to join in on the conversation.

At the center of it all, however, was Lord Edward Ducker, who, like Benedict, sat with an easy, languid grace. His dark hair, slightly tousled from the morning, caught the sunlight as he glanced over the freshly printed copy of Lady Whistledown’s, which had just been delivered moments before. He flicked through it casually, but when he spotted something interesting, he cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention.

"Ah," Edward began, his voice dripping with playful mockery, "I see that Whistledown has deemed me worthy of mention."

Benedict, lounging opposite him with a bemused smile, raised an eyebrow. "And what scandal have you stirred up now, cousin?"

"Well," Edward replied with mock gravity, holding up the paper as though about to recite an epic verse, "It appears I have committed the grievous sin of dancing twice with Miss Teresa Medici."

A collective murmur rippled across the table. Eloise looked up from her book, Francesca’s eyes widened with interest, and even Anthony, ever the vigilant head of the family, seemed to lean in slightly.

Benedict chuckled. "Twice in one evening? Clearly, you’re more dedicated to causing a stir than I gave you credit for."

Edward grinned as he began to read from the paper, affecting a haughty tone: "Lord Edward Ducker, cousin to the esteemed Bridgertons, was seen twice on the dance floor with the enchanting Miss Teresa Medici. Could there be an alliance between the Scottish nobility and the Italian beauties of the season?"

Violet set down her teacup, a wry smile playing on her lips. "I must say, Edward, Whistledown doesn’t waste any time, does she?"

Edward feigned a pained expression. "It seems I am to be thrust into matrimony before I’ve even had my second cup of tea."

Benedict leaned back in his chair, eyes gleaming. "You always did have a way with the ladies, Edward. Though I must say, two dances with Miss Medici? You might as well have proposed on the spot, by Whistledown’s standards."

Edward shot Benedict a sideways glance, his smirk deepening. "Well, not all of us can hide in the shadows, avoiding the spotlight."

"Hide?" Benedict echoed, amusement lacing his voice. "I’ll have you know, I am a master of subtly avoiding entrapment by the likes of Whistledown."

"Oh really?" Edward teased, his eyes dancing with mischief as he turned back to the paper. "Because it seems you’ve managed to make an appearance here as well, my dear cousin."

Benedict’s smirk faltered, just slightly. "Me? Nonsense. I’m perfectly innocent."

Edward scanned the paper before reciting aloud with relish: "One cannot help but notice the sudden and fervent interest of none other than Benedict Bridgerton, the second son, known more for his artistic pursuits than for indulging in the formalities of our society, it is highly unusual to see Mr. Bridgerton so enamored by the charms of the ballroom. Could it be that the Medici allure has cast a spell on him as well? His eyes followed Caterina Medici throughout the evening, and one cannot help but wonder if a new romance is on the horizon.”

Benedict groaned lightly, shaking his head as a few chuckles echoed around the table. Francesca raised an eyebrow and glanced at her brother. "Two Medici sisters? How very intriguing."

Eloise piped up, clearly enjoying the attention being thrown in Benedict’s direction. "How scandalous, Benedict. Perhaps you’ve found your muse?"

"I assure you, it was nothing of the sort," Benedict said, waving off the playful jabs. "Miss Medici is… interesting, yes. But I’d hardly say Whistledown has reason to believe I’m courting her."

Eloise leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table with a grin. "You forget, Benedict, that the ton doesn’t need much reason to believe anything. A look, a dance, even a mere conversation, suddenly, you're halfway down the aisle."

"And with a Medici no less," Colin chimed in, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "You certainly don’t do things halfway, do you, Benedict?"

Benedict rolled his eyes, though his lips curled into a smile. "The last thing I need is Whistledown playing matchmaker on my behalf."

"Indeed," Edward added with mock seriousness. "Especially when it seems I am already being prepared for my own romantic destiny."

Eloise exchanged a glance at that "I wasn’t aware that dancing twice meant an engagement was imminent," she said her eyes sparkling with humor.

"Ah, Eloise" Edward replied, turning his gaze to her with a playful smile. "In the eyes of Lady Whistledown, two dances might as well be a declaration of undying love."

Violet, who had been watching the banter with amusement, finally spoke up. "It seems that this season will be full of surprises, especially if Lady Whistledown continues to take such an interest in our family affairs."

Edward looked at Benedict. "Then we’ll just have to give her something worth writing about, won’t we?"

Benedict lifted his cup in a mock toast. "To surviving Lady Whistledown’s gaze. And to ensure that whatever scandal she writes, we at least look good doing it."

The table erupted in laughter as the cousins clinked their cups together, both fully aware that the games of the ton had only just begun.

─────────

The morning light filtered through the tall, elegant windows of the Langstone dining room, casting a warm, golden glow on the pristine white tablecloth and delicate china that adorned the long table. The Medici and Langstone families, now gathered together for breakfast a quiet conversation was filling the room.

Caterina sat at the table, her hair elegantly tied back, though her posture betrayed a slight weariness from the previous night’s ball. Across from her, Teresa was nearly vibrating with excitement, her eyes alight as she eagerly helped herself to a scone. Their mother, Lady Medici, sat beside Teresa, conversing lightly with Lady Langstone, who sat at the head of the table, while Olympia and Cynthia Langstone, the daughters of the house, chatted excitedly about the night’s events.

But the real excitement had only just arrived with the morning delivery of Lady Whistledown, which sat untouched at the center of the table, waiting, like a mischievous spirit, to stir up trouble.

Cynthia, ever eager, was the first to reach for the paper. “Oh, I cannot wait to see what she’s written about last night!” she exclaimed, her voice bright with anticipation. “You know she never misses anything.”

“I wonder who has made her infamous pages this time,” Olympia added with a sly smile, leaning forward to peer at the column as her sister unfolded the crisp paper.

Caterina leaned in, her curiosity piqued. “Is that the famous Lady Whistledown everyone has been speaking of?” she asked, eyeing the paper with mild interest. “I’ve heard her name whispered in nearly every corner of the ballroom last night.”

Teresa, equally intrigued, glanced at the Langstone sisters. “Yes, what is the fascination with her? I’ve never heard of such a thing in Italy.”

Cynthia, her eyes alight with enthusiasm, eagerly took the opportunity to explain. “Oh, Lady Whistledown is the most infamous writer in all of London! She writes about the ton, the scandals, the romances, the gossip, and no one is safe from her sharp wit.”

Olympia nodded, adding, “She seems to know everything before anyone else does. If you’re mentioned in her paper, it can either be a blessing or a curse, depending on what she writes about you.”

The Medici sisters exchanged intrigued glances, clearly fascinated by the idea of a secret chronicler wielding such power over the social scene.

Caterina raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a slight smile. “So she has the power to make, or break, someone’s reputation with a single word?”

“Precisely,” Cynthia said with a nod. “And no one knows who she is. Her identity is the greatest mystery in London. Everyone speculates, but no one has any idea.”

Teresa’s eyes widened with excitement. “How thrilling! It’s like something out of a novel.”

Olympia chuckled softly. “It’s far more real than any novel. Last season, she practically ruined a debutante with a single article. She has the ability to shape the entire season. Some people are terrified of her.”

Caterina, ever the skeptic, leaned back in her chair and sipped her tea. “Fascinating. And yet, it seems so… impersonal. To be judged by someone who remains hidden. It’s almost cowardly, don’t you think?”

Olympia shrugged with a grin. “Perhaps. But that’s what makes her so powerful. She’s everywhere and nowhere at once.” Teresa was enthralled, her curiosity growing with each word. “And you’ve been mentioned before?”

Cynthia beamed proudly. “Oh yes, several times. Usually about our gowns or our partners at various balls. But nothing too scandalous, thankfully.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Once, she commented on how Olympia’s gown nearly outshone a duchess’s.”

Olympia laughed, waving off her sister’s comment. “That was ages ago. But the point is, you never know what she’ll say, or when she’ll say it.” Lady Medici, who had been listening quietly, looked at her daughters with a mix of amusement and caution. “Well, let us hope our first mention is a favorable one.”

Before Teresa could respond, Cynthia gasped dramatically, her eyes wide as she scanned the paper. “Oh my! Here it is!”

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to her. She cleared her throat and began to read aloud, her voice bright with excitement.

“And then there is the younger, Miss Teresa Medici, whose sweetness is as charming as her sister’s sharpness. She, too, seems well on her way to captivating hearts, but do not be deceived by her innocent smile. It seems the Medici twins are not just diamonds in the rough, but polished gems with a sharpness that can outwit even the most astute gentlemen. It appears that Lord Edward Ducker, cousin to the esteemed Bridgertons, was seen twice on the dance floor with the enchanting Miss Teresa Medici. Could there be an alliance between the Scottish nobility and the Italian beauties of the season?”

Teresa’s cheeks flushed a deep pink, but her smile was radiant. “Oh! That’s wonderful! I can’t believe I’m mentioned!”

“Twice, no less,” Olympia added with a wink. “It seems Lady Whistledown has a soft spot for romances.”

Before Teresa could respond, Cynthia’s eyes darted back to the paper, a mischievous smile curling on her lips. “Oh, but that’s not all…”

She glanced meaningfully at Caterina before continuing. “One cannot help but notice the sudden and fervent interest of none other than Benedict Bridgerton, the second son, known more for his artistic pursuits than for indulging in the formalities of our society, it is highly unusual to see Mr. Bridgerton so enamored by the charms of the ballroom. Could it be that the Medici allure has cast a spell on him as well? His eyes followed Caterina Medici throughout the evening, and one cannot help but wonder if a new romance is on the horizon.”

Caterina’s expression didn’t waver as she took another sip of her tea, though her eyes sparkled with a hint of amusement. “a spell?” she repeated dryly, placing her cup back on its saucer. “That’s a generous interpretation. I’d say it was more like a man desperately trying to survive an evening of unbearable conversation.”

The table erupted in soft laughter, though Teresa shot her sister a playful look. “Come now, Kitty, it wasn’t that bad. He seemed quite taken with you.”

Caterina leaned back in her chair, smirking slightly. “Taken with me, or taken with the idea of escaping all the simpering debutantes that were flocking around him? Either way, I’m flattered that I provided a distraction.”

“Oh, please,” Olympia teased. “You looked perfectly happy out there. And if Mr. Bridgerton is as charming as they say, I doubt you were bored.”

“Charming is one word for it,” Caterina mused, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Though I will admit, his attempts at humor were… admirable. For a man who escapes such formalities, he certainly talks a lot.” Teresa rolled her eyes affectionately but couldn’t hide her excitement as she reached for the paper herself. “Regardless, it’s thrilling to see both of our names in Lady Whistledown.”

Caterina smiled warmly at her sister, her teasing tone softening. “Yes, well, just don’t let it go to your head, Tess. You still have a whole season ahead of you. And who knows what else this Whistledown will have to say?”

Teresa, undeterred, beamed. “I can’t wait.”

Lady Medici, watching her daughters with a fond smile, raised her teacup. “To a successful season, then. And may we continue to make the pages of Lady Whistledow, for all the right reasons.”

─────────

As the morning bathed the Langstone estate. The Medici family, ever poised, were expecting a full day of visits from eligible gentlemen who had attended the ball the previous evening. Caterina, however, appeared completely unbothered by the prospect, her mind seemingly elsewhere.

“Caterina, darling, please do remember that we are expecting quite a few visitors today,” Lady Medici reminded her daughter from across the room, adjusting her posture as she awaited the arrival of the day’s first guests. “You mustn’t be so cold to them, darling. This is a serious matter.”

Caterina sighed, swirling the tea in her cup lazily. “I’ll be perfectly polite, Mother, but I’m afraid I can’t promise much beyond that. I would rather do other things today than sit, listen, and smile.” Her voice carried a note of amusement that her mother did not appreciate.

"You have to take this seriously, Caterina. You cannot afford to offend every man who dares approach you."

Before another word could be exchanged, the first knock echoed through the grand estate. A parade of gentlemen had begun, much to Caterina’s restrained dismay. She straightened her shoulders, bracing herself for what would undoubtedly be a long day.

The butler, ever efficient, opened the door, revealing Lord Barrington, a tall man with an awkward gait but a kind smile. He approached Caterina with flowers in hand, bowing deeply.

“Miss Medici, it is a pleasure to see you again. I brought these from my family’s garden. The ones I told you last night during our wonderful dance” he offered, handing her the bouquet of roses.

Caterina’s polite smile barely concealed her disinterest. “Thank you, Lord Barrington. Roses, how charming.” She took the bouquet and set it on the table without a second glance. “What brings you here this fine morning?”

Lord Barrington seemed slightly flustered but continued. “I hoped to invite you for a stroll through the gardens. The weather is delightful, and I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to converse in a more intimate setting.”

“A walk?” Caterina tilted her head, her gaze flicking briefly out the window where the sun shone brightly. She seemed to weigh the offer for a moment before her smile grew just a bit sharper. “I’m afraid I’ve had enough of the gardens for one day, Lord Barrington. But do enjoy them on my behalf.”

Lord Barrington blinked, clearly taken aback, but managed a polite bow before excusing himself. As soon as he left, Teresa leaned over to her twin, giggling softly.

“Oh, Kitty, you really are impossible.”

“I never promised to entertain every dullard who knocked at our door,” Caterina replied with a smirk, eyes sparkling mischievously.

Not long after Lord Barrington’s departure, another knock came at the door. This time, it was Lord Fairfax, a dashing gentleman with a quick wit and easy charm. He greeted Caterina with confidence.

“Miss Medici, a pleasure as always. I was hoping we could share a ride through the countryside, it's the perfect day for it.”

Caterina looked him up and down, clearly sizing him up. “You are quite bold, Lord Fairfax, to assume I would agree so easily.” She stood, walking to the window as though contemplating. After a moment of silence, she turned, her eyes narrowed slightly in amusement. “I am not so easily won, my lord. But do continue your efforts. They are…entertaining.”

Lord Fairfax raised a brow, sensing the challenge in her words. “Then, Miss Medici, consider me up for the challenge. I shall win you over yet.” He bowed deeply and left, a confident smirk playing on his lips.

The hours passed, and the gentlemen came and went like clockwork. Some brought gifts, others tried to charm her with witty conversation. One by one, Caterina dismissed them with the same composed elegance she had mastered over the years.

The drawing room was now filled with the scent of the floral bouquet presented to her by Lord Wilkins, a gentleman more nervous than the others. He stammered through his conversation, constantly glancing at Teresa as though hoping for help.

“I—Miss Medici—I’ve brought you lilies…from my estate,” he said, his voice shaky.

Caterina raised a brow, glancing at the flowers. “Lovely. I imagine they must be quite beautiful at your estate,” she commented, her tone neutral.

Lord Wilkins took that as encouragement, nervously continuing. “They are. You should come to see them sometime, I mean… if you would… if you’d like to.”

Caterina leaned back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap as she studied the flustered gentleman. “Perhaps,” she said noncommittally. “Although I’ve never been particularly fond of lilies.”

Wilkins paled, his earlier bravado quickly evaporating. “Oh, well, I could…bring something else next time?”

“There’s no need,” Caterina said, her voice kind but final. “You’ve done enough for today.”

When he left, Lady Medici let out an exasperated sigh. “Caterina, how will you ever secure a match if you continue to send them all away?”

“Mother,” Caterina began, now completely weary of the parade of suitors, “I have no intention of securing a match simply to satisfy social expectations. The gentlemen who have visited today have been…fine, but none of them stir anything in me. Do you really expect me to spend a lifetime with someone who does not?”

Lady Medici's brows furrowed in frustration. “You cannot wait forever, my dear.”

Caterina turned her gaze towards the window, watching the sunlight flicker across the gardens outside. “Perhaps I can. But I have enough for today. Vanessa!” she exclaimed, calling her maid “It’s time!” she added.

So then she made her way to the grand staircase, pausing at the top to compose herself. With a deep sigh, she forced a bright smile and addressed Vanessa, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "Ah, what a wonderful day for a promenade, don’t you think, Vanessa?"

As she descended the stairs, she was immediately greeted by a line of more and more eager suitors who were still waiting, each clamoring to gain her attention. "Oh, Miss Medici, allow me to escort you through the streets of London!" one gentleman offered, his voice filled with enthusiasm.

"Miss Medici, you must let me go first! Some streets are dangerous, and I would be honored to protect you!" said another, pushing forward slightly.

Their voices overlapped, each trying to outdo the other with offers of assistance. But Caterina, her eyes sparkling with mischief, ignored their advances, descending the staircase with a slow, graceful stride and a sly smile playing on her lips.

When she reached the bottom, she turned to face the group, her tone polite but firm. "Please, any of you who have come here today to court me may as well leave now. I’m not in the mood anymore to be adored. But you can still try your luck with my sister or one of the Langstone ladies. They would be more than pleased to entertain you all."

The room fell into a brief, stunned silence. Several of the men shuffled uncomfortably, their expressions turning sour at her bluntness, some even letting out quiet huffs of frustration.

But before Caterina could leave, her path was blocked by none other than Benedict Bridgerton and his cousin, Lord Ducker. Benedict, standing in front, held a modest bouquet of wildflowers in his hand, his crooked smile making Caterina pause.

"Mr. Bridgerton," she greeted him, her voice laced with playful mockery. "So eager to see me again?"

Benedict bowed, offering her the flowers with a charming smile. "Miss Medici, might I have the honor of escorting you through London today?" His tone was teasing, though there was a sincerity in his gaze that caught her attention.

Caterina tilted her head, pretending to consider his offer with exaggerated thoughtfulness. "Do you really wish that, Mr. Bridgerton?"

He blinked in surprise, clearly expecting a different response. "If you wish it, Miss Medici."

With a smirk, she shook her head. "No… not really." Her words caught him off guard, and he stared at her, momentarily at a loss for words.

Before he could respond, she turned to his cousin with a polite smile. "Have a nice day, Mr. Bridgerton. Lord Ducker."

And with that, Caterina gracefully brushed past them, leaving Benedict standing at the bottom of the stairs, bouquet still in hand, watching her with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. As she exited the house, he couldn’t help but smile to himself.

─────────

The sunlight streamed through the tall windows of Lady Danbury’s house, casting a soft glow across the drawing room where Lady Medici and her daughters sat, engaged in polite conversation with Lady Danbury. The aroma of freshly brewed tea mingled with the scent of roses that adorned the table, creating an atmosphere of refined elegance.

Lady Danbury, with her ever-watchful eyes, leaned in slightly, her voice dripping with curiosity. “So did you already find a particular interest in someone at my ball, ladies?” she asked, her gaze flickering between the ladies.

Teresa, ever the more sociable of the two, immediately responded with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Undoubtedly, there were some notable gentlemen, Lady Danbury. I even made the acquaintance of a few this morning," she said, her voice light and melodic.

Lady Danbury, intrigued, raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And do you recall any of their names, my dear?”

Teresa chuckled softly as if amused by the question. “There was Lord Dumbling, Lord Harrington, and also Lord Melrose, who brought me the most beautiful peonies from his family’s garden this morning. But if I am to be completely sincere, most of the other gentlemen were quite captivated by my twin sister Caterina, were they not?” she teased, her gaze sliding over to her sister, who sat quietly, sipping her tea as though she were miles away.

Caterina finally glanced up, her expression impassive but her tone laced with cool detachment. "Well, those were the ones who were able to enter the room. I had afterward ejected many others." Her words hung in the air, sharp and unexpected.

"Caterina," Lady Medici said, her voice filled with maternal scolding as she shot her daughter a look of disapproval. But Caterina merely shrugged, unbothered by the reaction she had caused.

Lady Danbury, ever the sharp-witted observer, chuckled softly at the display. “And may I ask why, Miss Caterina? I thought the whole reason you embarked on such a journey to London was to find a husband, was it not?”

Caterina didn’t falter. "It most certainly is," she replied calmly, though her mother gave her a reproachful glance, silently urging her to act with more grace. Still, Caterina remained unflustered, sipping her tea with steady composure.

“The gentlemen who arrived this morning were quite enthusiastic,” she began in a measured tone, “but I wasn’t feeling particularly disposed to entertain them. The dance you hosted, Lady Danbury, was so splendid and engaging that I found myself needing some rest afterward.” Her voice was smooth, her words carefully chosen. “Besides, I had a great desire to explore the streets of London. It’s a beautiful city, especially on such a lovely sunny day. I hear there aren’t many like it in England.”

Lady Danbury leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “So, if I may be so bold, what exactly are your expectations for this… husband you seek, Miss Medici?”

Without missing a beat, Caterina replied with perfect poise, but her words caused a visible shift in the room. “Well, I am certainly looking for someone with significant financial wealth,” she stated flatly, as though it were the most obvious answer in the world.

Teresa’s eyes widened, and she cast a glance at her mother, who was already sighing in resigned exasperation. Lady Medici’s lips thinned, though she refrained from any verbal reprimand, clearly accustomed to Caterina’s candid nature.

Lady Danbury, always one for a bit of scandalous conversation, gave a bemused smile. “Wealth, you say? My dear, there is much more to marriage than wealth.”

Caterina’s gaze did not waver. “Of course there is,” she replied evenly. “But security is paramount. A man of wealth can offer a comfortable life, and that is something I will not compromise on.”

Lady Medici shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes briefly closing in silent frustration at her daughter’s bluntness. Teresa, in an attempt to lighten the mood, chimed in.

“But surely, love must play some part in your decision, sister?”

Caterina tilted her head, considering her words carefully before answering. “Love is a luxury, sister. It is not essential for a match.” Her voice was devoid of emotion, her gaze steady as she addressed the room.

Teresa exchanged a quick glance with their mother, both of them understanding the deeper meaning behind Caterina’s words. Lady Medici sighed, looking at Lady Danbury with an apologetic smile. "You'll have to excuse Caterina's… practical nature."

But Lady Danbury, ever perceptive, smiled knowingly, her eyes lingering on Caterina. "Practicality has its merits, but sometimes, dear, the heart has its own plans, plans that may surprise even the most pragmatic among us."

Caterina, for once, seemed to pause, her fingers tightening ever so slightly around the teacup. But she quickly masked her reaction, offering a polite smile. "Perhaps, Lady Danbury. But I prefer not to rely on surprises."

─────────

The evening of the second ball arrived, casting a soft glow over London as carriages rolled up to the grand entrance of the lavish estate where the event was being held. The Medici sisters, Teresa and Caterina, had planned for this night with the utmost precision. Their gowns had been crafted in Italy, a design that, in their homeland, might have been considered daring but elegant. In London, however, it would be nothing short of scandalous.

As their carriage drew closer to the estate, Teresa fidgeted with her gloves, casting a glance at her sister. "Are you sure about this, Kitty?"

Caterina’s lips curled into a knowing smile, her eyes gleaming under the soft lamplight that filtered through the window. "We knew exactly what we were doing when we had these dresses made, Tess. Trust me, we’ll make an impression. Isn't that the point?"

Teresa bit her lip but nodded. "I suppose so. But I can already hear what Lady Whistledown will write about us tomorrow."

"Let her write," Caterina said with a flick of her wrist. "We’ll be the talk of the ton. That's what matters."

─────────

The carriage rolled to a stop, and the footman opened the door, offering them his hand. Caterina exited first, her gown a stunning light gold, catching the light as she descended the steps with graceful confidence. The dress clung to her figure in all the right places, the fabric shimmering with every movement. But what truly caught attention was the back of the gown, or rather, the lack thereof. From the nape of her neck down to the small of her back, her skin was left exposed in an elegant swoop of fabric, the boldness of the design sending ripples of shock through those who saw it.

Teresa followed her gown a softer, more muted pink. It shimmered with a subtle glow under the candlelight, highlighting her delicate features. Though softer than Caterina’s, her dress was no less daring, with a similar open back that revealed much more skin than any proper English lady would dare show.

As the twins stood side by side at the entrance of the ballroom, their presence commanded attention. The grand hall had been abuzz with conversation, laughter, and the murmur of gossip, but as the Medici sisters made their entrance, almost complete silence fell over the room.

Caterina held her chin high, fully aware of the eyes upon them. Her smile was serene, calculated, as if she relished in the shocked gasps and murmured whispers that followed their every step. Teresa, though slightly more reserved, matched her sister’s poise, her head held high as they glided into the room.

The fabric of their gowns caught the light, drawing attention to the elegant curve of their exposed backs and the finely embroidered details along the edges of the material. Every step they took seemed to be designed to command attention, the soft rustling of their dresses the only sound in the otherwise hushed room.

The looks on the faces of the ton were a mix of disbelief and judgment. Elderly matrons clutched their fans in shock, and young debutantes exchanged scandalized glances. Lord Ducker, standing near the entrance, nearly choked on his drink when he saw Teresa. His eyes widened as he tried, and failed, to look anywhere but the bare expanse of her back.

"Good heavens," a lady murmured from across the room, her eyes narrowing as she turned to her companion. "Did you see what those ladies are wearing?"

"Wearing? More like not wearing," another woman replied, her tone scandalized.

As the sisters walked further into the ballroom, Lady Ducker, standing near Lord Ducker, arched an eyebrow and let out a quiet hum of disapproval. "It seems the Medici sisters have decided to bring their fashion to England," she said, her eyes lingering on Teresa. Her tone was pointed, but beneath her words, there was an edge of amusement as if she knew exactly the effect their entrance would have.

Caterina caught sight of Benedict across the room, his eyes already fixed on her. She met his gaze, her lips curving into a subtle, knowing smile. His expression was unreadable, a mixture of surprise, admiration, and perhaps something else, a flicker of something more primal beneath his well-mannered exterior. But he didn’t look away.

Teresa, on the other hand, had her attention drawn to Lord Ducker, who was now standing frozen near the refreshment table, unable to tear his gaze away from her. He looked positively bewitched. She glanced at Caterina, who nudged her lightly. "See? We have their attention."

"Too much of it," Teresa whispered, though there was a faint blush on her cheeks, not entirely out of embarrassment.

They stopped near the edge of the dance floor, their presence undeniable as the ballroom began to hum with activity once more. The music resumed, but the gossip spread like wildfire, whispers following the Medici sisters wherever they moved.

A nearby group of young women exchanged judgmental glances, their voices low but not low enough for Caterina to miss. "It’s indecent, really," one of them said, her voice filled with disdain. "They might as well have come in their undergarments."

Caterina turned her head ever so slightly, catching the eye of the girl who had spoken. With a calm, confident smile, she lifted her chin and gave a subtle nod, as if acknowledging their words but dismissing them with a quiet power. They may talk, she thought, but it was she who had the attention of the room.

"I told you," Caterina murmured to Teresa, her voice low but filled with satisfaction. "We’ve already won."

Teresa sighed, though her lips twitched with a smile. "I just hope we survive the night."

Caterina chuckled, her eyes scanning the room once more. "Oh, we will. But I suspect after tonight, the ton will never forget us."

─────────

The ballroom was alive with music, light, and laughter, but all Benedict could focus on was the woman standing across from him. Miss Caterina Medici. As soon as he caught sight of her at the entrance of the ballroom, everything around him seemed to be still. For a moment, he was utterly captivated. His breath hitched, barely perceptibly, as his eyes raked over her, trying to fully comprehend what he was seeing.

She was breathtaking.

The gown was scandalous, yes, but more than that, it was a work of art on her body, every curve and line of the fabric designed to seduce. His gaze traveled from the delicate curve of her exposed shoulders down to the elegant dip of her bare back, the smooth skin gleaming in the soft glow of the chandeliers. The deep gold of the dress seemed to make her skin glow, every inch of her a tantalizing combination of elegance and temptation. Her hair was pinned elegantly, though a few rebellious strands framed her face, giving her an air of effortless beauty.

Benedict’s grip tightened around the glass of champagne in his hand. Damn her. It wasn’t the first time Caterina had rendered him speechless, but tonight… tonight it was different. Something raw, something primal unfurled inside him, tugging at his restraint, pushing against his usual composure. There was an air of defiance in her tonight, a woman who knew exactly what she was doing and was reveling in the chaos she caused. And God help him, he couldn’t look away.

His mind raced with thoughts he shouldn’t be having. The delicate slope of her back, the smooth line from her neck to her spine, made him ache to touch her. His imagination filled in what his hands wanted to do, run over that exposed skin, feel the warmth of her under his fingers, claim her in a way that wasn’t even appropriate to think about in a crowded ballroom.

She was temptation personified, and it was driving him mad. She knew the effect she was having on him; he was sure of it. The way her lips curled into that infuriatingly serene smile when their eyes met across the room told him everything. She was aware, and she enjoyed it.

Benedict swallowed, shifting in his stance as he tried to regain some semblance of control. But as she moved deeper into the room, her eyes locking with his for a brief moment, the sharpness of his desire returned, making his blood run hot beneath his skin.

I should not be thinking about her this way, he chided himself, but the thought only served to make his craving for her more intense.

He wanted her, and not just in a simple, gentlemanly fashion. There was something far more primal in the way his body reacted to the sight of her tonight. Something that went beyond flirtation, beyond the witty exchanges they’d shared. It was possessive, all-consuming, and utterly undeniable.

As she made her way through the room, collecting whispers and shocked gasps like jewels in a crown, Benedict’s decision crystallized.

He needed to have her attention, to remind her that no matter what game she was playing tonight, he was part of it, and he intended to win.

He set his glass down on a nearby table with purpose, his gaze never leaving her as he crossed the ballroom. His steps were confident, and deliberate, the buzz of the crowd dimming in his mind as he approached her. There was a flicker of something in her eyes when she noticed him approaching, anticipation, perhaps? Or was it the same desire that roared in his chest?

“Miss Medici,” Benedict’s voice was low, dripping with a mix of amusement and challenge. He bowed slightly, his eyes never leaving hers. “I believe you owe me a dance.”

Caterina’s lips curved into that familiar, teasing smile. “Do I?” Her voice was like silk, her brow arching as if to mock his request. She lifted her chin, clearly prepared to banter, but Benedict was having none of it tonight.

He stepped closer, his presence dominating, his tone dropping to a near growl. “Oh, you do. Don’t think I didn’t notice.” His eyes flickered down to the exposed skin of her back, then back to her eyes, his voice taking on a sharper edge. “You come dressed like this, catching everyone’s attention, and expect me not to claim my due?”

Caterina blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the intensity in his voice, but she quickly regained her composure. “I didn’t realize you had anything due to you, Mr. Bridgerton.”

He smirked, a wicked glint in his eyes as he extended his hand toward her, waiting for her to take it. “Oh, I think you owe me more than just a dance.” His voice softened, turning into a low murmur meant only for her. “After all, if anyone’s going to be stealing glances at you tonight, it’ll be me.”

Caterina stared at him for a beat, her lips parting as if to retort, but the intensity of his gaze, the way he held himself with such confidence, silenced her. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she placed her hand in his. A spark shot up his arm the moment her gloved hand touched his.

“Shall we?” Benedict’s smile was almost predatory as he led her onto the dance floor, aware of the eyes following them.

The moment they were in position, and the music began, Benedict took her in his arms, their bodies closer than they had been in days. The tension between them simmered just beneath the surface, and he could feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her gown.

"After the event at your house, I was expecting a bit more resistance to my invitation, Miss Medici," Benedict said, his voice low as he twirled her around, bringing her back in front of him with a graceful spin.

Caterina’s lips curled into a smirk as she came back into his arms, the spin bringing a fresh wave of her intoxicating perfume with it. "An invitation from an attractive man is always accepted, Mr. Bridgerton," she replied smoothly, her tone light but edged with a certain seductive confidence.

Benedict’s eyebrows shot up at her remark. "Attractive?" His voice dipped playfully. "So, you find me appealing, Miss Medici?"

She met his gaze, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Certainly I do," she said, her voice almost a purr. "I’m a woman, Mr. Bridgerton, and I have eyes too. I can hardly deny such a thing."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, there was a spark of something dangerous in her gaze, something that made Benedict’s pulse quicken. He tightened his hold on her waist just slightly, guiding her effortlessly through the steps of the dance.

Benedict let out a low chuckle, caught off guard by her directness. He couldn’t recall the last time a woman had spoken to him with such brazen honesty, especially not while looking at him like that.

"Additionally," Caterina continued, her smile widening, "I heard you don’t attend many balls…" She arched an eyebrow, her tone playfully inquisitive.

Benedict snorted, shaking his head slightly. "You’ve been reading Lady Whistledown, haven’t you?" There was a trace of irritation in his voice, though not entirely directed at her.

Caterina chuckled softly, clearly noticing his reaction. "I must somehow integrate into the English ton, Mr. Bridgerton," she said, her voice dropping into a sultry, teasing tone. She raised her chin ever so slightly, making her intentions clear, and yet keeping everything veiled in playful banter.

Benedict’s expression tightened for a brief moment. "Aren’t you bothered by what was written about you?" His eyes flicked down briefly to her dress undoubtedly one of the subjects of tomorrow’s paper and then back up to her face. He was testing her, probing to see if her confident demeanor was as untouchable as it appeared.

Caterina’s laugh was soft but full of amusement, her eyes sparkling as she met his challenge head-on. "Why would I be? Those are just words, Mr. Bridgerton. Gossip. Nobody really knows me." Her tone was dismissive as if she found the entire concept of caring about public opinion amusing.

Benedict’s eyes narrowed slightly, intrigued by her indifference. Most women in the ton would be mortified by such scandalous attention from Lady Whistledown, but Caterina seemed completely unphased. There was something deeply alluring about a woman who refused to be swayed by the whispers of society.

"I see you’re not one to let words affect you, then," Benedict remarked, spinning her once more, his grip firm on her waist as she twirled effortlessly back into his arms.

"Not at all," she replied with a light shrug. "In Italy, we care about gossip but here, it seems like it’s the lifeblood of society." Her lips twitched into a smirk. "A curious difference, wouldn’t you agree?"

"Curious, indeed," Benedict said, still studying her closely. "But not everyone is as impervious as you, Miss Medici."

She laughed again, a soft, musical sound that sent a strange thrill through him. "Perhaps they should be. After all, Mr. Bridgerton, isn’t it far better to live by one’s own truth than to be shackled by the opinions of others?"

Benedict was silent for a moment, turning her words over in his mind. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting from this dance, maybe more of the flirtatious banter they’d been engaging in, but Caterina’s insight caught him off guard. "And what is your truth, Miss Medici?"

Caterina’s smile grew, her eyes flashing with something unreadable. "That, Mr. Bridgerton, is something you’ll have to discover for yourself." She leaned in just slightly, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "If you’re brave enough."

The challenge was clear, and it sent a spark of excitement through him. "I think I’m up for the task," he said, his voice steady but charged with a new energy.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the bustling ballroom seemed to fade into the background.

They moved in perfect harmony, the music guiding their steps but their attention solely on each other. Caterina’s gaze flicked to his lips for the briefest of moments before she pulled away, the distance between them lengthening as the dance continued.

Benedict couldn’t help but smile. He had expected many things from this night, but meeting someone like her, a woman so unafraid to be herself, so unapologetically bold, had certainly not been one of them.

As the music began to wind down, Caterina gave him a sly, knowing look and with a graceful curtsy, Caterina stepped back, her gaze lingering on his for just a second longer than necessary. "Thank you for the dance," she said, her voice soft and yet filled with promise.

Benedict bowed, watching her as she turned and walked away, her scandalous dress drawing even more attention as she rejoined her sister and the other guests.

He exhaled, realizing he had been holding his breath.

As she disappeared into the crowd, Benedict couldn’t help but think that Caterina Medici was far more than she seemed, and perhaps, that was exactly what intrigued him most.

─────────

Dearest readers,

The ball of last night was nothing short of a spectacle, but it wasn't the glittering chandeliers or the flowing champagne that stole the evening's attention. Oh no, it was the attire of the notorious Medici sisters that set tongues wagging! Miss Caterina and Miss Teresa Medici shocked the ton by arriving in daring gowns with their backs scandalously exposed. How very… audacious of them!

It would appear the Medici sisters have introduced a new fashion to our ever-watchful London season, a daring display of Italian boldness, with backs bared more than one might deem appropriate for a respectable young lady’s wardrobe.

But that, dear readers, was merely the beginning. Lady Ducker's keen eye seems to have settled on a match for her son, Lord Edward Ducker, and it would appear Miss Teresa Medici is the favored candidate. A match to unite two prominent families? We shall see.

Yet, nothing has caught my quill quite like the simmering tension between Miss Caterina Medici and one certain Mr. Benedict Bridgerton. I saw everything, dear reader, stolen glances, whispered words, and a dance that left the room breathless. One wonders: what exactly is brewing between those two?

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown

The morning air of the day after was cool, and a gentle breeze whispered through the bustling streets of London. The Medici sisters were walking gracefully along the streets of London, their dresses fluttering slightly in the breeze as their heels clicked against the cobblestones. The light murmur of their conversation was drowned out by the hum of activity around them, carriages rattling by, the calls of vendors, and the occasional laughter of passersby. However, all of that seemed secondary to the glances and murmurs from the other women, heads turning as they recognized the sisters, especially now after the most recent publication of Lady Whistledown.

Caterina held her parasol delicately, tilting it just to keep the sun from her face, while Teresa moved with an air of quiet reflection. The previous night’s ball, with all its gossip, danced uncomfortably in both their minds. Caterina, of course, was more amused than anything else. Teresa, however, was still processing what had been written in Lady Whistledown's Paper.

As they strolled, Caterina smirked and unfolded the paper she had been holding since breakfast, giving it another glance. "Well, Tess, if we weren't known before, we certainly are now."

Teresa sighed deeply, her shoulders sagging slightly. "Do we have to talk about it, Kitty? You know how Whistledown exaggerates."

Caterina’s eyes twinkled as she read aloud, her voice filled with mock drama. "it would appear the Medici sisters have introduced a new fashion to our ever-watchful London season, a daring display of Italian boldness, with backs bared more than one might deem appropriate for a respectable young lady’s wardrobe."

She laughed and looked sideways at Teresa. "Respectable? I believe Lady Whistledown may have finally run out of more scandalous things to write."

Teresa flushed, though a small smile crept onto her lips. "I didn’t think the gown was that scandalous. It was elegant. Tasteful, even."

"Tasteful, yes. But perhaps London society is not yet ready for this kind of taste," Caterina teased, folding the paper and tucking it into her reticule. "Still, we managed to turn quite a few heads. I think it’s a triumph."

"Mother will faint as soon as she will read the paper," Teresa said, shaking her head with a soft laugh. "I’m certain she would write to our aunt in Naples, asking for advice on how to handle such improper daughters."

Caterina grinned, clearly enjoying herself. "Oh, but we haven’t even gotten to the best part yet." She glanced at Teresa, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Lord Ducker."

Teresa’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink. "Kitty, stop."

"I will not stop. Lady Whistledown practically devoted an entire paragraph to how Lord Edward’s attentions were fixed solely on you throughout the evening. And let’s not forget Lady Ducker’s strategic glances in your direction. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s plotting a match."

"You're reading too much into it," Teresa said, though she couldn’t entirely hide the smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Lord Ducker was simply being polite. His mother… well, she’s just observant."

"Observant, yes," Caterina teased. "Observant of her son’s growing interest in you, perhaps? Tess, the man couldn’t take his eyes off you during your second ball. He’s clearly smitten."

Teresa let out a long-suffering sigh. "You're impossible."

"I’m only impossible because it’s true," Caterina grinned, nudging her sister lightly. "Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy his attentions."

"I… well, he is charming," Teresa admitted, her tone soft. "But there’s no need to get carried away."

Caterina smirked but decided to let her sister off the hook. For now. She was about to change the subject when something caught her eye. "Ah! The market’s ahead. Let’s go see if those accessories Olympia recommended are still there. I’m certain I saw a table with the exact stones I need for my gown tonight at the theater."

With a shared glance, the sisters altered their course, heading toward the market square. The air grew thicker with the smell of fresh-baked bread, sizzling meats, and the fragrant waft of flowers being sold from nearby carts. A cacophony of voices called out, from vendors selling their wares to buyers haggling over prices.

The market itself was a vivid tapestry of colors and sounds. Caterina led the way with the same determination she brought to every task, her eyes scanning the trinkets and jewelry laid out on various stalls.

She paused at one table, admiring a set of glimmering stones that matched her dress. "These are perfect," she murmured, picking up a delicate emerald-colored gem. "Olympia always has the best taste."

Teresa, standing at her side, admired the piece. "They’re beautiful, Kitty. Are you planning on wearing them tonight?"

Caterina nodded, distracted as her eyes flicked across the market. But then something unexpected caught her gaze, a small, unassuming stall near the end of the row, one that wasn’t adorned with the usual finery but rather had brushes and bottles of paint stacked neatly.

For a moment, Caterina stood still, the noise of the market fading around her. Her chest tightened as her eyes rested on the small collection of oil paints and canvases. Brushes of different sizes were laid out, the sight of them immediately conjuring a flood of memories. She remembered the days spent at home, under the dappled sunlight, painting… The world had felt so open, so full of possibility back then. Her hands, now adorned with jewelry, used to be stained with paint, marks of freedom and expression.

Her breath hitched slightly. It had been years since she had touched a brush, and yet here they were, simple and unassuming, waiting for someone to use them.

"Kitty?" Teresa’s voice was gentle, pulling her back to reality. "What is it?"

Caterina’s fingers hovered over the brushes, a strange mix of longing and sadness swelling within her. "Nothing" she whispered, barely loud enough for her sister to hear.

Teresa smiled softly in her direction. "You were brilliant at it."

"I…" Caterina said, her voice thick with emotion. Her fingertips brushed against the handle of one of the brushes, and the familiar texture sent a shiver down her spine. Could she still paint? Did that part of her still exist?

"You should get them," Teresa suggested quietly. "It might be nice to start again. You always seemed so at peace when you painted."

Caterina hesitated, biting her lip. The thought of starting again, of rediscovering that part of herself, felt daunting. Yet at the same time, something inside her yearned for it. She missed the feeling of losing herself in the strokes of a brush, the way the world melted away when she was creating something entirely her own.

"I… maybe," Caterina said, her voice barely above a whisper, but the thought lingered with her as they continued through the market. The paint, the brushes, and the memories clung to her as she walked alongside her sister, feeling as if she had uncovered a piece of herself that she had almost forgotten existed.

─────────

As the opera house buzzed with the excitement of London’s elite, Lady Marie Medici and her daughters, Caterina and Teresa, settled into their private box. The family had garnered quite the attention since arriving from Italy, especially at recent social events. Tonight, however, the opera promised to be a relaxing reprieve, or so they thought. Just as they were adjusting to the view of the grand stage, a soft tap of a cane and the distinct presence of Lady Danbury signaled a different direction for their evening.

"Lady Medici," Lady Danbury greeted with her sharp eyes gleaming, her voice cutting through the hum of the room. She leaned slightly on her cane, casting a knowing glance over at Caterina and Teresa, who smiled politely.

"Lady Danbury, always a pleasure," replied Lady Marie Medici, nodding respectfully.

“And of course, your charming daughters,” Lady Danbury added with a sly smile, her gaze lingering on Caterina, who raised an eyebrow but returned the smile, knowing better than to take Lady Danbury’s compliments at face value.

“Lady Medici, come with me. There’s someone you must meet,” she insisted, gesturing for Lady Medici to follow.

Caterina and Teresa exchanged a curious glance with her mother as she stepped across the box seats to the hallway to the others' adjoining boxes. There, Lady Bridgerton was engaged in conversation with some ladies.

“Lady Bridgerton, may I present Lady Medici?” Lady Danbury introduced.

“Lady Medici,” Violet greeted with a warm smile, her kind eyes settling on the Medici lady. “I’m delighted to finally make your acquaintance.”

“The honor is mine, Lady Bridgerton,” replied Marie Medici with a graceful nod. “I’ve heard much about your family in London.”

Violet chuckled lightly. “I do hope it’s nothing too scandalous! My family has had its share of adventures.”

“Oh, I assure you, we are no strangers to excitement ourselves,” Lady Medici responded with a smile.

“Your daughters have caused quite the stir in society, I must say,” Violet replied, casting an affectionate glance toward Marie.

Just then, Lady Danbury interjected, “And I must add, they have brought such a refreshing energy to the season. It’s a breath of fresh air.”

Violet nodded in agreement. “Indeed!”

Lady Medici chuckled, her gaze drifting toward the stage. “Well, we certainly encourage a bit of mischief. Life is too short to be dull, wouldn’t you agree?”

Violet leaned in conspiratorially, her smile was calm but meaningful. “Absolutely! And speaking of, I must confess that I’ve noticed that my nephew Lord Edward Ducker, seems to have taken a liking to your younger daughter, Lady Teresa.” She leaned in slightly, her tone a bit more personal. “I believe they make quite a charming pair.”

Lady Danbury cut in with a playful grin. “Indeed. It appears young Edward can hardly keep his eyes off her.”

Violet nodded thoughtfully. “In light of that, I would like to extend an invitation, Lady Medici, to you and your daughters. Please join us for a small, dinner tomorrow evening at Bridgerton House. I would very much like to get to know you all better.”

Lady Marie exchanged a brief look before smiling at Violet. “That would be lovely, Lady Bridgerton. We would be honored to attend.”

As they exchanged a few more pleasantries, Lady Danbury’s knowing smile never wavered, her sharp eyes flicking back and forth between the families as if plotting her next move. Soon, the lights dimmed, and the opera was about to begin, forcing the conversation to a close.

Later, as the performance was about to begin, Lady Medici announced the exciting news to her daughters.

“There’s news,” Marie began, folding her hands neatly in her lap as she looked at her daughters. “We have been invited to dinner at Bridgerton House tomorrow evening.”

Teresa’s face lit up instantly. “Dinner with the Bridgertons!” she exclaimed. “Mama, what a wonderful thing!”

In the semi-darkness of the opera house, Teresa leaned over to Caterina, her voice barely a whisper. “Dinner at Bridgerton House! Can you believe it? Mama seemed so calm about it.”

Lady Marie smiled warmly at her daughter. “Indeed, my dear. Lady Bridgerton extended the invitation herself, and it’s clear there’s some interest on behalf of their family.”

Caterina, however, leaned back against the chair, her lips curling into a teasing smile. “Interest, or matchmaking?”

“Both, perhaps,” Lady Marie said thoughtfully. “Lord Ducker has certainly taken a liking to you, my lovely.”

Caterina smiled faintly, though her mind was elsewhere. “She’s probably more interested in the alliance this could create.”

She gave her sister a sideways glance. “Lord Ducker, hmm?”

Teresa flushed but remained composed. “He’s…” Teresa’s face turned bright pink, and she nervously smoothed out the folds of her gown. “He’s very polite, kind, and attentive. That’s all.”

“Mmhmm,” Caterina teased, though her voice lacked its usual edge. Her mind was drifting.

Teresa pouted. “Kitty, stop it.”

“Enough, ladies,” Lady Marie interrupted with a gentle laugh. “It’s a good match. But we mustn’t get ahead of ourselves. Tomorrow is about making a good impression, not encouraging gossip.”

Caterina’s teasing faded, and she glanced in front of her, to the opposite box.

As the opera began, Caterina found her eyes drifting once more across the room, landing on Benedict Bridgerton, who sat attentively watching the stage, into the opposite box.

The dim light softened his sharp features, his focused expression surprisingly at odds with the lively, almost mischievous energy he exuded during their conversations.

There was something different about the way she felt when she was looking at him tonight, a strange, quiet ache in her chest, as though something within her was shifting.

The sharp retorts she always prepared for him felt less necessary, and instead, she found herself wondering about the dinner.

Would they speak? Would she see him across the table, his eyes searching for hers?

The thought caused an uncharacteristic flutter of nervousness in her stomach, and she quickly tore her gaze away, focusing back on the stage. What was this feeling? Anxiety? Excitement?

She exhaled softly, willing herself to stay composed, though her mind wandered. Tomorrow would be something, a test of her ability to maintain her composure, to keep Benedict Bridgerton at a distance. Yet, deep down, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to.

Across the way, in the Bridgerton box, Benedict Bridgerton was trying to concentrate on the performance too. Yet, his eyes were drawn across the room to Caterina.

“Are you going to stare at her all night, or do you plan to watch the play?” Anthony teased, smirking.

Benedict shook his head, chuckling lightly. “I was admiring the view, brother.”

“Right. Admiring. Just make sure you don’t miss the second act,” Colin added, grinning.

─────────

The soft glow of twilight filtered through the curtains as Caterina sat at her vanity, brushing out her curls in front of the mirror.

Teresa stood near the window, adjusting the necklace that sparkled against her neckline. They were both preparing for the much-awaited evening's dinner at The Bridgertons, a dinner that would place them directly in the company of the all family.

“Kitty,” Teresa began, her voice lilting with a teasing tone as she admired herself in the reflection of the glass. “You can’t deny it. He’s interested in you.”

Caterina, her hands still in her hair, met her sister’s eyes through the mirror, a wry smile forming on her lips. “Every gentleman of the ton is interested in me, sister,” she responded dryly, her voice edged with sarcasm. “It’s hardly news.”

Teresa laughed, shaking her head. “No, Kitty, I’m serious this time. Mr. Bridgerton. He’s really interested, and tonight, I’ll prove it to you.” She stepped away, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Caterina’s expression tightened as she whipped around to face her sister, her eyes widening in alarm. “No, you will not,” she said firmly, her tone bordering on panic. “Tess, don’t you dare say anything compromising tonight. Please.”

Teresa merely smirked, her eyes still fixed on her reflection as her maid fixed her hair. “Why not? You two have been practically eyeing each other every chance you get. And I’m sure the entire ballroom noticed last time.”

“Teresa Medici!” Caterina hissed, her voice rising in exasperation. She rose from the vanity and turned to face her sister fully. “I mean it. Don’t say anything compromising.”

Teresa just chuckled, her smug grin never fading. “Oh, Kitty. You know I won’t embarrass you… much.”

Caterina huffed, knowing her sister well enough to realize that once she had a plan, there was little hope of stopping her.

She turned back to the mirror, carefully smoothing down her gown and trying to push aside her growing apprehension. “Tess, please,” she said in a softer tone, hoping her sincerity would make an impact. “I don’t want to make a fool of myself tonight.”

Teresa stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on her sister’s shoulder. “You won’t. Trust me. But it wouldn’t hurt for him to know you’re interested too, you know.”

Caterina let out a frustrated sigh, unable to suppress the nervous flutter in her chest at the mention of Benedict. “It’s not that simple,” she muttered, more to herself than to Teresa.

“Of course, it is,” Teresa replied lightly, giving her sister a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’ll see tonight.”

─────────

The dining room of Bridgerton’s house was alive with laughter and conversation, the room filled with the glow of candlelight as the Bridgertons and the Medici ladies gathered around the grand table. The warmth of the evening seemed to mirror the ease of the company, though Caterina couldn’t help the twinge of unease in her chest every time her eyes met Benedict’s from across the table.

She sat next to her sister, who was seated across from Benedict. The conversation flowed easily between the families, with Lady Bridgerton, Lady Ducker, and their mother sharing pleasantries about the evening's festivities.

The discussion naturally shifted as Lord Ducker leaned in and said to Teresa “…but he is not nearly as talented as my cousin Benedict. He truly excels in drawing and painting. A natural artist, you could say.”

Teresa’s eyes gleamed, and Caterina immediately tensed, sensing what was about to come. “You do, Mr. Bridgerton?” Teresa asked, her tone dripping with curiosity.

Benedict smiled humbly, casting a quick glance toward Caterina before replying. “I dabble, but it’s nothing serious. Just a recreation, really.”

Caterina froze, her fingers tightening around her fork. She hoped Teresa would drop it, but her sister wasn’t one to let an opportunity slip by.

“You know,” Teresa continued, grinning broadly, “My sister also draws. In fact, she’s rather good, isn’t that right, Kitty?”

Caterina’s head snapped up, her face flushing at the mention of her art. She could feel Benedict’s gaze on her, amused and curious. She swallowed hard, wishing for a moment that the ground would open up beneath her. Under the table, she shot a discreet but firm kick to Teresa’s shin, but her sister simply smiled.

“You do, Miss Medici?” Benedict asked, his voice rich with interest. His eyes never left hers, and the slight curve of his lips told her he was enjoying her discomfort.

Caterina forced a small smile. “Not anymore,” she said quickly, trying to downplay it. “It was just a childhood pastime. Times have changed… and so have I.”

“That’s not true,” Teresa interjected, clearly ignoring the daggers Caterina was glaring at her. “My sister is incredibly talented. You should see her work back in Italy, it’s stunning.”

“Teresa, that’s enough,” Caterina snapped, her voice cutting through the lively hum of the table. Everyone paused mid-conversation, their attention now turned toward her. The sudden silence was palpable, even the children stopped their chatter to stare.

Lady Medici, ever composed, sent both her daughters a reproachful glance. “Ladies,” she said firmly, though her tone remained quiet. “This is neither the time nor the place for bickering.”

Caterina swallowed her embarrassment and mumbled an apology. “Sorry, Mother,” she said, glancing down at her plate, feeling the weight of everyone's gaze on her.

Teresa chimed in, still looking amused, though slightly chastened. “Sorry, Mother,” she echoed, her voice light and carefree, though she shot a playful look at Caterina.

The rest of the dinner passed in relative calm, though Caterina couldn’t shake the lingering embarrassment. She could feel Benedict’s gaze flick toward her several times throughout the evening, and each time, her heart raced. But no more was said about art or her talent.

─────────

Later, after returning home, Caterina stormed into her bedroom, her cheeks still flushed with irritation. Teresa followed closely behind, closing the door behind her.

“Why did you bring that up at dinner?” Caterina demanded, whirling around to face her sister. Her voice was sharp, and she glared at Teresa with all the frustration she had been holding in throughout the evening.

Teresa shrugged, entirely unbothered by her sister’s anger. “I didn’t do anything wrong! It was Lord Ducker who mentioned Mr. Bridgerton’s art, and I just thought it was the perfect opportunity for you two to connect.”

Caterina let out a frustrated groan, pacing back and forth. “I told you I didn’t want to be involved in that conversation. It was irritating!”

“Irritating?” Teresa raised an eyebrow, her tone softening. “Kitty, it wasn’t irritating at all. Mr Bridgerton was clearly interested. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

Caterina scoffed, shaking her head. “That’s not the point, Tess. I didn’t want my art to be a subject of discussion, especially not in front of him.”

Teresa stepped forward, her expression softening as she placed a hand on Caterina’s hand. “I’m sorry, Kitty, truly. But I just want you to see how interested he is. You’re so closed off sometimes… Let him in.”

Caterina’s anger wavered slightly at her sister’s words, but she remained resolute. “Goodnight, Tess.” Her voice was final as she opened her bedroom door, signaling the end of the conversation.

Teresa sighed, knowing better than to push her sister further. “Goodnight, Kitty,” she whispered before stepping out into the hallway.

As the door closed behind her, Caterina leaned against it, her mind still swirling with thoughts of Benedict’s lingering gaze.

#bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fandom #bridgerton fic #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton angst #fanfiction #fanfic #benedict bridgerton x oc

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eri-pl · 2 months ago

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(followup to this poll)

(We are deciding what we want to happen, not what would be most likely.)

Feanor has* a vision of Maedhros throwing himself into a volcano (also, he's got a lot of scars and just one hand and there's apparently some cataclysmic event around + there is a strange glowing thing in the sky + WHAT? why is the Silmaril burning him???)

His heart says to him: "Behold!…

\* assume it is happenning shortly before the action mentioned in your answer, at an appropriate point to not do the thing.

My thoughts on what might happen in some of those scenarios:

[In case it's confusing: I call the bad guy Melkor or Morgoth depending on how he was called at a given point in story. this is the natural way to do it for me.]

Feanor doesn't make the Silmarils is the boring option tbh.

Cooperate with Melkor... you could have Melkor gaining some common sense, and generally those two realizing that they have some ugly traits in common and getting into a more constructive sort of rivarly... but no. :D Realistically, it would end up as bad as the canon, maybe with a different setup of alliances and anmities.

Doesn't go to the party... I think this is what Melkor expected. We end up with Feanor dead but I think he would beat up Melkor well too. Melkor had underestimated him.

Which means that Ungolianth would have a good opportunity to negotiate her payment earlier. We may end up with a hilarious (well, ok, also tragic because Feanor dies) scene where Tulkas is the one to chase Ungoliant off from Melkor's face.

And Melkor gets (impisoned? kicked into the void?) so Beleriand is safe, I guess. Well, except one little admirable guy being left there without any supervision.

Also, the Trees are dead but the Silmarils are probably reclaimed and without Feanor having the opportunity to refuse earlier, his sons may allow the Valar to use them. The problem is: can anyone break them? (Alternatively, they got eaten by Ungolianth)

Take Finwe and Silmarils to the party… I assume Melkor knew (at least predicted) that Feanor would leave the gems (and maybe himself too) at home. So here we end up with a last-minute change of plans leading to a very surprised Melkor.

The Trees are still dead, but the Silmarils are available, and with Finwe being alive... I don't know. Feanor would surely take Finwë's opinion into account, but would Finwë want him to let Yavanna reboot the Trees at the cost of Silmarils? With Feanor believing that it would kill him: no, he wouldn't.

We still very likely get an Oath (to protect them from the Valar, which was imo the main goal of the oath) and Finwë is swearing it too. I like it, this makes 9 of them and 9 is a cool number.

And the Oath means that Feanor is banished, so they leave to Beleriand anyway. They wanted to leave even before the Darkening. Just with Finwë. Which may impact Olwë's reaction and later, Thingol's. Also, Finwë is the one going to "parley" with Morgoth (about what, if he has no Silmarils? idk, but Morgoth would think of something for sure)

Give up the Silmarils… Ooooh. this is the interesting one. I'll be honest: this is the one with best vibes for me. It just feels right and like it would result in the worst of Feanor's flaws going away.

The Trees are still dead, because the jewels are gone. However, I imagine this would change how the Silmarils impact Morgoth (because metaphysics). and by that I mean it's both more painful and somehow more constructive, more helpful to the general story?

Also there would be a Valar-approved army going to reclaim the gems, probably led by Eonwë. And much more coherent and with less tensions. And, of course, no problem with ships.

I like to think that Indis would go to war (why not? Morgoth killed her husband after all, even if she didn't care much for said husband). I like it because then she can die and Finwë and Miriel can live happily again and by letting go of revenge for Finwë, Feanor would eventually get Finwë back which is wonderful.

I don't hate Indis, but she is the third wheel here, sorry. Also, I believe she would stay in Mandos to let Finwë be happy with Miriel, because she is a good person. A good perso that is the third wheel.

Generally, somehow, happy ending. Happier than in the Silm, anyway. And Feanor doesn't die, or at least not for long. Miriel could heal after giving birth to him, he can heal after breaking the Silmarils.

Don't leave Aman... I'm not sure. He may start a civil war eventually (preasure the Valar to chase Morgoth and the preasuring escalates).

Doesn't swear the oath. This is another interesting one. He is not banished from Aman, just leaves by himself. The Teleri may be more cooperative. There may be no or less of doom of the Noldor.

It all may result in the sons of Feanor being much more cooperative after he died, trying to somehow make amends with the Valar? IDK.

Doesn't fight the Teleri… What's the alternative? Trying to build his own ships, or Helcaraxe? With all the tensions among his host? I think it's another "civil war" one.

Doesn't burn the ships… Much damage is done already, and I think Feanor still goes in front of the army and dies. It's just in character for him.

Succession crisis ensues (I don't think Maedhros liked Fingolfin a whole lot at this point?), Morgoth invites a king to a parlay… both of them, asking each to keep it secret… Fingolfin has to save both his cousin and his father.

I don't think there's much improvement overall. There is surely a big improvement for all who died or otherwise suffered the Helcaraxe, but in the historical perspective? Not much.

Doesn't die on Balrogs? This results to Maedhros not gtting captured, at least not so early. Feanor wouldn't go to a parlay— wait. He wouldn't be invited to a parlay. He would be invited to a duel. And go there, of course. Morgoth would be delighted. (Of course there would be no duel. It would be the same as with the parlay... And then he would have Feanor to "play with")

The sons would probably assume him dead? I'm not sure. Or they would die one by one trying to free him?

Anyway, bad idea. Probably worse than canon.

No second oath… I don't think it would change much. It felt like it deserved to be an option, but… idk.

#yes I managed to fit in the joke option! :D #anyway:#silm #silmarillion #tolkien legendarium #the silm #the silmarillion #silm polls #feanor #silm fic ideas #[feel free to write a fic based on any of those if you like ;) ]#I should make a consistent tag for all the “ghost of Christmas” scenarios

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oleander-neruim · 8 months ago

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Alrighty everyone so here's what's going to be my "Master Post" for my new brainroting AU.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Welcome to "A Myth's Voyage AU"

Essentially this is a Pirates SMP & Empires SMP x Epic The Musical AU. It follows a loose Canon of Pirates, the storyline of Epic, and nonesense and shenanigans thrown into the mix.

~•~•Behold our lovely Cast & Crew•~•~

『•Fully Established/Solidified•』

• Sausage Mythos as Odysseus 「#Odysseus!Sausage」, the Captain and protagonist of our story

• Joel Beans as Penelope 「#Penelope!Joel」, the Sausage's spouse & stand-in head of the Isles

• Hermes Mythos-Beans as Telemachus 「#Telemachus!Hermes」, Sausage's son

• Will Renais as Polites 「#Polites!Will」, 3rd in command & Sausage's closest crewmate

• Kuervo Fang as Eurylochus 「#Eurylochus!Kuervo」, 2nd in command

• Kyle Eef as Permides 「#Permides!Kyle」, pilot of the head ship

• Red D. Doons as Elpenor 「#Elpenor!Redd」, member of Sausage's main crew

• Aeor as Zeus 「#Zeus!Aeor」, God of Life & Storms

• Exor as Athena 「#Athena!Exor」, God of Death & Wisdom

• Codfather Jimmy as Polyphemus 「#Polyphemus!Jimmy」, a giant bipedal fish monster, "Cyclopes"

• Ocean Queen Lizzie as Poseidon 「#Poseidon!Lizzie」, Goddess of the Ocean

• Pearl Moon as Aeolus 「#Aeolus!Pearl」, Goddess of the Winds

• Fwhip Grim as Hermes 「#Hermes!Fwhip」, Messenger God of Travel

• Gemini Tay Grim as Circe 「#Circe!Gem」, Goddess & Sorceress of Magic

• Acho Denholm as Tiresias 「#Tiresias!Acho」, the Prophet

『•Likely Established/Not Featured Yet•』

• Oli Orion as Apollo 「#Apollo!Oli」, God of the Sun & Music

• Pixlriffs as Hephaestus 「#Hephaestus!Pix」, God of the Forge & Craft

• Katherine Elizabeth as Aphrodite 「#Aphrodite!Katherine」, Goddess of Love & War

• Shrub Berry as Ares 「#Ares!Shrub」, God of War & Bravery

• Joey Graceffa as Hera 「#Hera!Joey」, God of Marriage & Family

• Scott Major as Calypso 「#Calypso!Scott」, Nymph of the Sea, a shapeshifter

• Owen Orange as Antinous 「#Antinous!Owen」, lead suitor & attempted usurper of the "throne"

『• Additional Cast •』

• Guqqie Mey, member of Sausage's main crew

• Michela Ray, member of Sausage's main crew

• Ros Cumber, member of Sausage's main crew

• Puffy Kara, member of Sausage's main crew

• Graecie Elaine, head of another ship on Sausage's fleet

〔Relevant Tags〕

• #AMyth'sVoyageAU -> Main tag for the AU

• #VoyageQueries -> Tag for questions about the AU

• #VoyageTapestries -> Tag for art related to the AU

• #VoyageGossip -> Tag for random rambles or thoughts on the AU

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

I'm not sure what all should be included here honestly but I can add on as we go.

Some names may end up being placeholders if I think of something better but this is what we're working with right now.

My ask box is always open for those who have curiosities or perhaps scene requests

/nudgenudge/

Enjoy your time & enjoy the story

#here we go nerds #empires smp #pirates smp #epic the musical #A Myth's Voyage AU #mcyt #Master Post #ollie writes #i gotta clear up my main tags on this blog #welcome to the start of the madness #i'll also be noting people with “ e![Character]” to shorthand some of this all so #have fun #🗺#also note Scott Denholm & Scott Major are in fact two seperate entities in this AU so. more fun

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thepaperpanda · 2 years ago

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A BRIEF COLLECTION OF POETRY:

Avatar: The Way Of Water

Number of poems: 7

Author: Rouge

A/N: having spent several days writing, I’ve decided to share some of my poems about Avatar: The Way Of Water with you. As this is my first attempt at writing poetry, please be gentle with me. Please also note that English is not my primary language.

A BROTHERHOOD

In the depths of the ocean blue, Lo'ak met a creature pure and true. A tulkun, a being so rare, And with it, a bond beyond compare.

Payakan, a name to behold, A friendship worth its weight in gold. For the tides may rise and fall, But this connection will stand tall.

With every dive and every breath, Their bond grows stronger, defying death. And though the world may never see, Their brotherhood is real, as real can it be.

THE SON AND THE MOTHER

Neteyam, a young Na'vi with a heart so true, A warrior in training, a spirit anew. With every step he took, he felt the land, The forest's whisper, the pulse of its grand.

With bow in hand, he'd take aim and shoot, Honing his skills, his path ever astute. And in his mother, Neytiri, he found a guide, A beacon of wisdom, a pure love that would never subside.

Together they explored the world around, A bond so strong, a union so profound. Neteyam looked up to his mother with pride, Knowing her teachings would always be his guide.

As the future of the Na'vi, he held a great role, A leader in waiting, with a warrior's soul. With every challenge, he rose to the task, His spirit unbroken, his courage steadfast.

Neteyam, a symbol of hope and light, A champion of his people, a warrior of might. In our hearts, his legacy will remain, A tribute to his spirit, forever we'll retain.

THE SONG FOR EYWA

Eywa, the goddess of the Na'vi land, Bearer of life, her touch so grand. Her spirit flows through every tree, And echoes in the breeze that all Na’vi see.

Her song so pure, her will so strong, A force that carries life along. The Na'vi sing to her every day, In reverence and in gratitude they pray.

Through her, the land is made complete, A living, breathing, vibrant feat. And all who dwell within her care, Find peace and love beyond compare.

Oh, Eywa, the goddess of all we see, We honor you, on bended knees. May your light forever shine, And guide us through the passage of time.

JAKE AND NEYTIRI

Jake, a warrior brave and true, A hunter skilled in all he'd pursue. With bow and arrow, he'd take aim, A protector of his people's reign.

With strength and grace, he'd move with ease, In tune with Pandora's gentle breeze. And when his heart was touched by love, He found in Neytiri his true dove.

Together they roamed the forest green, A pair as one, a unity supreme. With Jake by her side, Neytiri knew, Their love would forever bloom and renew.

Jake, a hero of the Na'vi land, A soul so pure, so brave, so grand. In our hearts, his memory will forever remain, A tribute to his spirit, forever we'll retain.

ABOUT PANDORA

Pandora, the moon, a world so rare, A place of wonder, beyond welfare. With skies so blue and forests so green, A paradise like none we've ever seen.

Amidst the trees, the Na'vi roam, A people in tune with this world's home. In harmony with creatures of all kinds, Pandora's beauty, a treasure to find.

With floating mountains and bioluminescent lights, A world that glows, in its own unique delights. A place of magic, where the heart can soar, Pandora's charm, forever we'll adore.

So let us journey to this world so rare, And let us marvel at its beauty so fair. For Pandora, the moon, a gem in the space, A testament to nature's boundless grace.

TULKUN

In the depths of Pandora's seas, Where the currents flow and the creatures tease, Lived a gentle-giant, a creature of grace, Tulkun, a whale-like being, with a majestic trace.

Its skin was gleaming, reflecting the light, A beauty unmatched, a marvel of sight. Its movements were fluid, with a powerful grace, A creature of wonder, in this underwater space.

Tulkun swam the oceans, with a gentle pace, A being of peace, a guardian of the place. Its song echoed through the waters, a melody so pure, A gift to all creatures, an invitation to cure.

The Metkayina would gather, when Tulkuns were near, They'd raise their spears and let out a cheer. For Tulkuns were more than a creatures of the sea, They were a symbol of nature, a spirit so free.

The seas would whisper, when Tulkun would pass, A message of hope, a reminder to last. That in this world of wonder, of ocean and land, We are all connected, by Eywa's loving hand.

NEYTIRI

In Pandora's land of vibrant hue, Stands Neytiri, strong and true. As a tsakarem, she leads the way, Her bow always ready to fight and slay.

Born to Eytukan and Mo'at's line, Her spirit fierce, her heart divine. A warrior skilled, with arrows bright, She stands for her clan with all of her might.

Through danger and trial, she remains unbroken, Her courage and strength, always outspoken. With honor and wisdom, she leads her clan with grace, Neytiri, a true inspiration of Omaticaya place.

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9r7g5h · 1 year ago

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To the Chapel (Even Though We Want to Run)

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Boku no Hero Academia

Rating: T

Genre: Gen

Summary: Of all the ways Izuku had imagined his wedding day to go, he never thought it would feel like a funeral procession.

Words: 3,742

Of all the ways Izuku had imagined his wedding day to go, he never thought it would feel like a funeral procession.

It was beautiful, of course. The horse he rode upon was magnificent, a gentle but strong mare that had been decked out in ribbons and gold, her mane twisted into elegant knots, nothing like his own unruly hair that refused everything his attendants had tried. Everyone that followed behind him dressed in new clothes that shimmered in the light, crystals and sometimes even real gems sewn into the cloth to give the illusion of wealth. Banners had been hung from every building that lined the way he and his own would travel down, letting their people see their prince as he rode to his wedding; a parade that, in other circumstances, would have been joyful.

He remembered, vaguely, the cheers that came from the citizens when he’d gone to witness Prince Touya and his knight Hawks wed many years ago. How happy the people had been that their wayward prince had found love and decided to come home, to take his father’s throne and turn their kingdom back from ruin. None of that greeted him now, only pitiful stares as he tried to hold back his tears and forced a smile on his face, waving at the people he knew. The people who had become his friends, the family that had taken the place of his mother when she had passed, when his father had turned his back at his presentation, who had held him together when this union had been announced. At least they had been given a decent sum, like all the citizens of the capital had, to do what needed to be done to keep up appearances.

King Hisashi Midoriya might hate his omega son, might have married him off the first moment he could, but he at least cared enough about appearances for this.

The castle itself was glorious to behold - money, Izuku knew, they did not have. Or, rather, would have soon enough; his soon to be husband (he couldn’t help but shudder at the word, his stomach turning at the thought he quickly pushed aside so he didn’t spoil his clothes) was wealthy, and the ‘bride’ price that he’d paid as part of this alliance agreement would shore up the kingdom for years to come. Would stave off another famine, give the diviners time to find another vein of gold, would keep his people safe. All the reasons why he was going through with this, why he hadn’t fled the moment the opportunity was presented to him.

Izuku was more willing to do what needed to be done for his people. He just wished the cost to himself wasn’t so high, and didn’t leave him feeling so sick.

It hurt to bring his mare to a halt before the castle doors. Not because he was one step closer to everything, to facing his father and the man he was being married off to, but because before he could dismount himself he heard the clanking of armor, felt the large hands wrap around his waist and lift, was forced to look into the pained red eyes of the man who stood before him. The man who, just last night, had done what he had sworn to never do before and begged - begged him to run away with him, to leave all of this behind; fuck the royalty and the kingdom that would sell him, please, let’s just go.

Izuku raised his head and forced a smile, ignoring the wetness under his eyes as he squeezed the forearms supporting him. “Thank you, Kacchan. I’m ok. You can let go now.”

For a long moment, Katsuki stood there, his head bowed, hands still around Izuku’s waist. He knew what he was thinking, had heard the thoughts before: was thinking, at that moment, it wouldn’t be hard to swing them both up onto one of the horses, to ride out of there before anyone else could be mobilized to chase them. That they could find refuge somewhere and get the happy ending they craved. That his sword was sharp, he was the best knight in the entire kingdom, that he was an alpha, that he could win.

Instead, Katsuki let go, his eyes defeated even as he schooled the rest of his face into something close to neutral. He took a step back, putting a respectable distance between them, his head lowering into a bow. “Of course, my Prince.”

Not childhood friends. Not pained lovers being forced to part. Just a prince and his knight, the guardian assigned to keep him alive. A job. Nothing more. That was all anyone would see.

Izuku was glad, now, for the perfumes and layers of cloth that covered his neck, that blocked his natural scent and gave off a lie of pleasure. Without it, someone could have noticed how much that pained him, how hard it broke his heart to not hear the possession within his voice that normally existed whenever Katsuki called him ‘My Prince.’ It was only proper that these ties be severed before they could bind, but that didn’t make cutting them any less painful.

The halls of the castle, at least, were loud enough to drown out the ringing in his ears and the fuzz in his head, people laughing and talking and yelling to be heard over the music that Izuku’s father had hired to ensure there wasn’t a moment of silence. It made it easier, not having to speak, just nodding in acknowledgment when spoken to, waving his hand towards the musicians if anyone tried to start a conversation. Most of them were attendants of his future husband, soon to be his own, and while they seemed like lovely people, the idea of interacting with them at this time was terrifying.

Only a few of his people would be allowed to come with him. Ochako, Iida and Tsu. Not even Kacchan was allowed to come with him to his new castle, his new home, though perhaps that was more of a blessing that King Hisashi had granted than a curse. It would hurt to see him after having to lay in another man’s bed, see him interact with another alpha’s children, both of them wanting but unable to have.

So perhaps this was right. Izuku had meant it when he said Katsuki could let go. Their final interaction to bring them some semblance of peace, of closure, even if the wound itself would never heal. Childhood promises broken and left behind, no matter how much they wanted to keep them.

Before he could sit and consider and let his mind spiral down into the darkness that often awaited him, the people were moving into the chapel, the music was changing, his attendants standing behind him. As much escorting him as making sure he didn’t mess up, his father’s biggest concern of the day, so sure his worthless omega son would do something to ruin this treaty. Which he wouldn’t. Izuku refused to be the failure he was believed to be; he would do this for his father, his country, for his people. Would complete the treaty and get the money and alliance that would keep them safe for so many years, if not generations, to come. He would keep his head high and stomach in check, and he would do what needed to be done.

Even if it meant marrying the man he once saw as an uncle, who had been there since he was a child, had been the one to tell him tales of love and happy endings, cruelly knowing he was never going to get his own. Even if it meant being mated to King Yagi Toshinori, the thought of which made his very skin crawl as he began to walk down the aisle, he would do it.

For his kingdom, and for his people.

The ceremony was quick - or perhaps he never really paid attention, his mind blank as the man Toshinori had brought with him read from the book, the two of them repeating after him almost mechanically. Hands tied together, wine drunk from the same cup, messages and symbolism he knew but didn’t, couldn’t remember. Because this was a fake, a falsehood, not a marriage but an exchange between his father and someone he thought cared about him, and all he could do for the rest of his life was accept it.

When Toshinori lifted his veil and placed a chaste kiss on his forehead, Izuku couldn’t stop the tears. Didn’t even try. Just stared up at his new husband, at the old friend and mentor that had betrayed him, and, perhaps selfishly, was glad he was a blond as well. If he was to be forced to have his children, at least if they came out blond, perhaps with his own green eyes, he could pretend.

He could barely remember the feast - he knew the food was supposed to be good, had smelt the chefs cooking for days. But even with course after course of delicious food laid out before him (enough to feed most of the capital, he knew, bitterly, enough to keep many of them going for days, and all of this wasted on a lie), he couldn’t eat. Couldn’t open his mouth, couldn’t bring himself to taste what he knew would be sour and ash upon his tongue. All he knew was he sat there, next to his husband, as time passed in leaps and jerks until finally, a hand was at his elbow, gently helping him rise from his seat. Izuku was aware enough to flush at the comments thrown their way as Toshinori led him towards the exit, ignoring the lewd statements and just waving towards his attendants, the group of people Izuku had never met and who would now become his entire life rising and following after them as they made their way towards the wing of the castle set aside just for them.

Just for this. Their wedding night.

He was glad, then, that he’d eaten nothing, because at the sight of the bedroom - the luxurious bed, the blankets already half nested, a steaming cup of tea that he knew would cause a faux heat if he drank it (to aid in conception the woman had told his father so the king can have an heir as soon as possible) - he wanted to be sick. He wanted to reject everything, this marriage, his title as Prince, the life he was now expected to go and live. But he couldn’t, so all he could do was reject the little that was in his stomach, bile stinging his throat and tongue as he struggled not to soil himself and the rug beneath his feet. The rug that kept him bolted to the floor, because right then and there he wanted to run, wanted to flee from the old alpha towering over him, reaching out towards him, he wanted Kacchan-

“Young Midoriya, you’re shaking. Please, come sit.” Gentle hands took his elbow and forearm, leading him away from the bed, towards a pair of chairs that had been pulled out to look at one another. Carefully Toshinori lowered Izuku into one before settling himself into the other, groaning lowly as his bones shifted. When he was settled, though, he gave Izuku a small, sad smile, his sunken eyes still visible enough to show the pity he felt. “You have nothing to fear, my boy.” His voice was soothing, his scent pulled in to keep as calming of an environment as he could. “While we may be husbands on paper, you are nothing more than my nephew, and I am nothing more than your Uncle Toshi. You are safe, my boy.”

“Why?” He was still shaking, still tense in his chair as he looked at the man before him, offering him so much after having taken away everything. Were his words true? Or were they some kind of twisted game, getting his hopes up only to destroy them? Izuku, a year ago, would have said his Uncle Toshi - an uncle in all but blood, the closest family friend his kingdom had - was a kind, honorable man, one who spoke straight and would never do something like that. Now, however, he just wasn’t sure. “Why did this happen?”

“Izuku...” Toshinori ran his hand over his face, up through his hair to push it back and out of his eyes. He was tired; it was clear the day had been long for him as well, though Izuku couldn’t find it within himself at the moment to care. “May I speak freely of your father?”

A nod.

“He’s a horrid man, and the only reason I maintained my friendship with him was because of your mother, and after her passing, you.” That got a chuckle out of Izuku. Not from the words themselves, but from how refreshing it was to hear someone other than Kacchan speak so freely of their hatred towards his father, something they all could agree upon. The chuckle seemed to cheer Toshinori up, allowing him to relax a little bit more into his chair. “You must know that your father was hoping for an alpha son, or at the very least a beta. So when you presented as an omega, he was quite disappointed with the outcome.”

‘You could have at least done me the courtesy of being born a girl, if all you were going to be good for was taking dick and pushing out pups. Wouldn’t have wasted all that sword training on you.’

Izuku knew exactly how his father felt.

“So when your father began talking about an alliance between kingdoms, he made it quite clear that part of the deal would be you. That he no longer wanted you around the castle, and thus whoever was willing to take you would get the alliance.” Toshinori reached out and patted Izuku’s hand, a calming gesture to try and counteract the harsh words. “When he made me the ‘offer,’ I tried to change it so you would become my ward, but he was strangely insistent that it was marriage instead. I believe so, if anything became of me, you wouldn’t be returned to him.”

“My father truly does hate me that much,” Izuku sighed, pulling up one leg to rest his head on his knee. He’d known it, but the reminder still hurt.

“Not just you,” Toshinori said gently, “but all omegas, for some reason. Which is why I finally agreed to marry you. So you’ll be away from your father, and whatever ignorance he has. Some gold that can easily be regained is a small price to pay for the happiness of my favorite nephew.”

He tried, he truly did, but Izuku couldn’t stop the tears that slid down his cheeks. He was so exhausted, mentally and emotionally, that it was just too hard to try and hide anything from the man before him. The man who had gone from being uncle to traitor to husband and back to uncle again in just a few hours, who had taken and given back a little bit of the sense of safety Izuku had lost from this whole ordeal. Who had watched him grow, and knew him so well. Izuku couldn’t hide.

“I’ll be free of my father, Uncle Toshi,” Izuku agreed, wiping angrily at his cheeks, “but he won’t let Kacchan come with us. And I... I’m...”

“I have a plan for that, my boy.” Toshinori left his chair and knelt before Izuku, wiping at his face for him. “What if I told you that a king can offer a knighthood to another knight, and it can be taken without consequence, save for a small fee paid to the other king? That the family of said knight can easily be moved with them, including all of their tailoring machines, and that it’s quite easy for good clothsmithes to get set up where we will be going to live? That I would be happy to appoint him your personal knight, with quarters in your wing of the castle so he can attend to you whenever necessary? What if I told you all of those things?”

Izuku was crying for real now, sobbing helplessly as he let his uncle hug him, making calming sounds as he ran his hand up and down his back, much like his mother once did when he was a child. It truly was too much, this had to be a dream, because it was more than he ever could have hoped for and everything he ever could have wanted.

“Fucking get off me, shitty hair!”

“Ahh, looks like my attendant found your knight.” Toshinori chuckled as he stood, using his shirt hem to wipe at the tears still left on Izuku’s cheeks. “Just in time, this next part will most likely include both of you.”

It took another few moments before the door burst open, a soaking wet Katsuki dragged in by three of the attendants Izuku recognized as belonging to Toshinori. Even clearly drunk they were struggling to keep a hold on him, his strength shown as he thrashed between them.

“Sorry, my lord,” one of them said with a sharp smile, his red hair dripping. “We wanted to sober him up a bit before we brought him to you. Took me in too.”

“Because you tried to push me into the fucking lake, you dipshit, of course I was bringing you too. Just let me go so I can fuck off.” A snap of teeth at one of the hands holding him, the black-haired man barely moving them in time.

“Young Bakugou, if you would please calm down, I believe you’ll enjoy the conversation I’d like to have with you.”

Even drunk Katsuki recognized Toshinori's voice - how could he not, when the man had spent almost as much time with him as Izuku growing up? He stilled in the attendants' grasp, eyes flickering around the room, searching, a sigh of relief leaving him when he found the bed and saw it empty. Though it was clear he was on guard when he was finally allowed to stand on his own, shaking off the hands that tried to keep him upright to do it himself, even if there was a slight sway in the way he stood.

He glanced towards the set of chairs, but his gaze didn't linger. Instead settling on the king's feet, hands twitching before settling into fists. "You need something, your majesty?"

"Please, leave us," to the attendants, waiting until the door was firmly shut before Toshinori shuffled back to his chair. Glancing around the room himself, he gestured towards a stool in the corner, nodding when Katsuki moved to grab it. "Please, young Bakugou, come join us. I was just discussing the possibility of you coming to join us in my kingdom with young Midoriya."

Katsuki froze half-seated, his eyes flickering to Izuku once before dropping to the ground again. But that flicker was enough - he was hurting, and the idea of coming with them, of seeing Izuku in the arms of another man, would kill him. And he thought Izuku cruel for asking him to watch.

"Kacchan," Izuku said softly, the smile he gave unseen as Katsuki refused to look at him, "please, hear him out."

A curt nod, hands clenched into fists on his knees, but at least he stayed.

"It’s well known I never intended to take a mate,” Toshinori said calmly, looking between the two. His smile was small, affection clear in his eyes. “And I still never intend to.”

Katsuki's head jerked up, staring wide-eyed between Toshinori and the smiling Izuku. "Deku," he rasped, tongue heavy with emotions and drink, "what..."

"Our marriage is platonic," Toshinori continued. "I have no interest in Izuku, beyond him as a nephew, or a son. This was to protect him from his father, and nothing more. Though, I will still need heirs for my kingdom." He leaned forward, fingers interlacing as he rested his chin on his folded hands. He kept his gaze steady on Katsuki, watching as the gears clicked into place behind his eyes. "Any children Izuku has will officially be listed as my own, but who he chooses as the sire is no concern of mine. Though, interestingly enough, just yesterday afternoon I discovered that my own great-grandmother happened to have red eyes herself. There are no portraits of her, of course, but a description of her was found in a very old journal. A brilliant red, it said."

Izuku reached out, Katsuki quickly taking his hand, squeezing it tight as he looked up at King Toshinori as if he was something more than just a man, just a king offering them everything they could have wanted. Both of their faces were wet, Izuku realized, a new kind of tears slipping unnoticed until that moment down their cheeks as they were given back their future.

Toshinori chuckled as he stood and wiped at Izuku's face once again with the hem of his shirt, a quick kiss on his forehead before doing the same to Katsuki, a gesture the alpha didn't even try to protest. "If those red eyes just happen to appear in the children listed as my own," he said softly, clasping Katsuki's shoulder - approval, an excited wish for the happiness he would soon see grow - "well, it's common knowledge that rare features like those can skip generations. And my people know how to keep their mouths shut."

Izuku was aware of the door closing behind Toshinori as he left but could barely pay it any mind as Katsuki’s hands cupped his face, tilting it up to draw him into a kiss. It was wet, the smell of the lake filling his nose and the taste of drink sour and strong on his lips, but Izuku couldn’t care less as the same hands that had so easily lifted him from his horse earlier that day now lifted him from the chair, stumbling steps letting them collapse on the bed that was now theirs. Theirs and theirs alone, and if this wasn’t a cruel game there would be another waiting for them at their new home, just theirs.

For the first time on his wedding day, Izuku laughed, truly laughed, and pulled his knight Kacchan in for another kiss.

[END]

If there are any questions/requests, I have a Curious Cat and a Retrospring! :3

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#the 9 one queues it #fanfic #bakudeku #bkdk #mha #bnha #my hero academia #izuku midoriya #katsudeku #fanfiction #bakugou katsuki #All might #omegaverse #alpha bakugou #omega midoriya #This starts out hella weird but just trust me I promise it's ok

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ketchhhaglendadelle · 6 months ago

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HENCE

34 ¶ Wherefore, behold, I send unto you prophets, and wise men, and scribes: and some of them ye shall kill and crucify; and some of them shall ye scourge in your synagogues, and persecute them from city to city: 35 That upon you may come all the righteous blood shed upon the earth, from the blood of righteous Abel unto the blood of Zacharias son of Barachias, whom ye slew between the temple and the altar. 36 Verily I say unto you, All these things shall come upon this generation. 37 O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a

hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not! 38 Behold, your house is left unto you desolate. 39 For I say unto you, Ye shall not see me henceforth, till ye shall say, Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord.

Matthew 24 1 And Jesus went out, and departed from the temple: and his disciples came to him for to shew him the buildings of the temple. 2 And Jesus said unto them, See ye not all these things? verily I say unto you, There shall not be left here one stone upon another, that shall not be thrown down. 3 ¶ And as he sat upon the mount of Olives, the disciples came unto him privately, saying, Tell us, when shall these things be? and what shall be the sign of thy coming, and of the end of the world? 4 And Jesus answered and said unto them, Take heed that no man deceive you. 5 For many shall come in my name, saying, I am Christ; and shall deceive many. 6 And ye shall hear of wars and rumours of wars: see that ye be not troubled: for all these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet.

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AND HENCEMORE and then,when,whensmore.When jem Gem gem?mOvie rental place by ultramar, I think that might be a gas stationnor knorr sidekick you got mail! My face right now

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31 ¶ The same day there came certain of the Pharisees, saying unto him, Get thee out, and depart hence: for Herod will kill thee. 32 And he said unto them, Go ye, and tell that fox, Behold, I cast out devils, and I do cures to day and to morrow, and the third day I shall be perfected. 33 Nevertheless I must walk to day, and to morrow, and the day following: for it cannot be that a prophet perish out of Jerusalem. 34 O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, which killest the prophets, and stonest them that are sent unto thee; how often would I have gathered thy children together, as a

hen doth gather her brood under her wings, and ye would not! 35 Behold, your house is left unto you desolate: and verily I say unto you, Ye shall not see me, until the time come when ye shall say, Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord.

Luke 14 1 And it came to pass, as he went into the house of one of the chief Pharisees to eat bread on the sabbath day, that they watched him. 2 And, behold, there was a certain man before him which had the dropsy.

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A Cockatrice....DELTA

Isaiah 11 1 And there shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse, and a Branch shall grow out of his roots: 2 And the spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the Lord; 3 And shall make him of quick understanding in the fear of the Lord: and he shall not judge after the sight of his eyes, neither reprove after the hearing of his ears: 4 But with righteousness shall he judge the poor, and reprove with equity for the meek of the earth: and he shall smite the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips shall he slay the wicked. 5 And righteousness shall be the girdle of his loins, and faithfulness the girdle of his reins. 6 The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them. 7 And the cow and the bear shall feed; their young ones shall lie down together: and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. 8 And the sucking child shall play on the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the cockatrice’ den.

9 They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain: for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea. 10 ¶ And in that day there shall be a root of Jesse, which shall stand for an ensign of the people; to it shall the Gentiles seek: and his rest shall be glorious. 11 And it shall come to pass in that day, that the Lord shall set his hand again the second time to recover the remnant of his people, which shall be left, from Assyria, and from Egypt, and from Pathros, and from Cush, and from Elam, and from Shinar, and from Hamath, and from the islands of the sea.

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14 Then shalt thou delight thyself in the Lord; and I will cause thee to ride upon the high places of the earth, and feed thee with the heritage of Jacob thy father: for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.

Isaiah 59 1 Behold, the Lord’s hand is not shortened, that it cannot save; neither his ear heavy, that it cannot hear: 2 But your iniquities have separated between you and your God, and your sins have hid his face from you, that he will not hear. 3 For your hands are defiled with blood, and your fingers with iniquity; your lips have spoken lies, your tongue hath muttered perverseness. 4 None calleth for justice, nor any pleadeth for truth: they trust in vanity, and speak lies; they conceive mischief, and bring forth iniquity. 5 They hatch

cockatrice’ eggs, and weave the spider’s web: he that eateth of their eggs dieth, and that which is crushed breaketh out into a viper.

ANCESTORS

Arm.rCKjstV;

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CelKalSifur

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Hawt babe, pork;do not eat!

Amethyst

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#Youtube

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charlenasaxen · 1 year ago

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Favorite Quotes - The Final Gambit pt. 2

Every few minutes, I brushed against Jameson or Grayson, or one of them brushed against me.

“I have never asked for anything from you.”

It was palpable in his voice: the many, many things he had never asked for.

my head of security answered the door with his gun drawn.

“Hello to you, too,” Thea said dryly.

“As you wish.” He picked the puppy up and snuggled her to his chest. “We shall call you Tiramisu,” he declared

The closer I got to the year mark, the harder Alisa pushed, and the closer she and her firm got to losing the reins

“Let’s look at the positives here,” Xander suggested. “I look dashing in that photo.”

“It would take connections.”

I looked up to the stairs—and Grayson

stopped short of looking at me. He was wearing all black, but not a suit.

Xander held Tiramisu up to his face and spoke in the puppy’s voice. “Don’t worry. The fire was very small.”

Divide and conquer wasn’t a Hawthorne family motto, but it might as well have been.

Somehow, that sounded more threatening than any words I’d ever heard this man speak. “Look up.”

Nan scoffed. “Do you know how many enemies this family has made since then?”

Nan took my hand and held it tight. The expression on her face grew tender. “You’re the one playing the piano now, girl. Men like Vincent Blake—they’ll break every one of those fingers of yours if you let them.”

“I’m going after her.” Grayson viciously cuffed his sleeves, like he was preparing for a fight.

“Grayson, stop,” I said urgently. “Think.”

As Jameson finished whispering furiously in his ear, Grayson stood very still

parted with two and only two words. “I waive.”

walls were made entirely out of gemstone slabs—a shining, metallic black. “Obsidian,” Jameson told me. “And agate crystal.”

The ceiling overhead glimmered in a rainbow of colors—more gems.

“I jumped from dangerously high up, the way she did. Nothing happened the first time. Or the second. But the third…”

“Because Gray is going to keep jumping until it hurts. He’s always been the solid one, Heiress.

And now, he’s lost his mooring, and I have to be the strong one.”

“Take me with you,”

Frustrated, I swept my hand over one of the diamonds, wiping it away.

Click.

and it wasn’t like Oren would have let Jameson and Grayson run off alone.

“Behold!” boomed a voice from the other side of Oren. “The heroes ride into battle! Avery will be liberated!”

Xander, Thea, and Rebecca incoming. Xander was holding an enormous metal shield that looked like it had been lifted straight off the arm of a medieval knight.

Or know someone who knows someone who knows—”

Thea placed a hand helpfully over Xander’s mouth.

He smiled a very Xander Hawthorne smile, then let his bravado falter. “But before we go, group hug?”

I’ve dismantled four and a half Porsches past the point of no return in the last two years. But in my defense, they had it coming, and I needed the parts.”

Then why weren’t you there? I thought with a ferocity that stole my breath. My own father had been mostly absent, but this was Xander

I couldn’t bear the idea of him getting hurt.

“Do you want me to go?” Xander asked Isaiah hesitantly

Not because the old man had been unhappy about his youngest grandson’s conception but because he’d refused to share him.

“So you just gave up on your son?” Rebecca asked Isaiah sharply.

“They faked the DNA test.”

“I couldn’t prove it,” Isaiah told him. “I couldn’t get near you.”

about Jameson’s hunger and Grayson’s punishing perfection, both of them competing for approval that was always just out of reach

You’re saying that you wanted me? The question echoed all around us.

Isaiah responded: “Still do.”

Xander bolted.

I looked up at Isaiah Alexander. Your son is amazing, I thought. You can’t ever hurt him.

Xander shook his head. “I have so many regrets.”

“You literally just picked up another doughnut,” I pointed out.

“But I tend to think they should have catapults.”

Xander nodded, like that was an acceptable answer.

horrified and entranced. “Witness the betrayal,” I echoed, “and wonder why his father let some nobody from nowhere get away with screwing him out of millions?”

You’re the one who locked me in the world’s most bejeweled escape room!”

Mrs. Laughlin pinned me with a look that had probably been used on generations of Hawthorne children

to say his brother’s name a third time. “Avery found out something that you need to know. Outside, Gray. Now.”

but Grayson caught my hand. He gave me a look like a shard of ice. “What are you doing, Avery?”

I asked Mrs. Laughlin softly. “Your daughter and Toby. You were trying to protect them from Vincent Blake.”

“You know why I wear it. You know, Grayson.”

“Don’t trust anyone,” I said, my tone a match for hers.

The one who didn’t have to dirty his hands to put an adversary in their place.

Am I the enemy again, Gray?

“Did you hear a word I said in there?” I asked, my heart breaking

I felt like he’d just thrown ice-cold water in my face. Like he’d hit me.

And then I watched Grayson Hawthorne walk away.

I could hear Grayson telling me that I had an expressive face, telling Jameson that I was one of them. I could feel Grayson correcting my grip on a longsword, see him catching my Hawthorne pin.

“I also know that Gray’s the better man. He always has been. The better son, the better grandson, the better Hawthorne.

“You’re honorable, Avery Kylie Grambs. Once you were with me, you were with me. You love me, scars and all. I know that, Heiress. I do.”

I thought about our fight. “Better is being my friend and my partner and realizing that you don’t get to make decisions for me

“have always made me bold. You’re the one who pushes me out of my comfort zone. You don’t get to box me back in now.”

“It’s times like this, Heiress, that I wish I’d fallen in love with a girl who wasn’t quite so good at bluffing.”

I wondered if he could hear my anger—and every ounce of emotion buried underneath

I want to know what happened to my son. And I want you, Avery Kylie Grambs, to dig up the past and bring me his body.”

She’d been looking for answers, for proof. For a body, I thought. Or more realistically at this point, for bones.

The old coot threatened to build me a mausoleum instead.

What if that hadn’t been a threat? What if Tobias Hawthorne had just decided it was too obvious?

Where would a man like Tobias Hawthorne hide a body?

the delicately carved pews, the elaborate stained-glass windows, an altar made of pure white marble

“So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”

I knew what this inscription meant—not in a biblical sense, but to Tobias Hawthorne.

would there have been anything left but bones? I didn’t smell death. Stretching to reach in and move the shroud

“And honestly, Avery, how do you think Gray will feel if Oren shoots me? What do you think will happen if that beautiful, broken boy walks in

“She admitted that Liam didn’t leave. I believe her exact words were There was so much blood.”

I thought of Toby telling me that he had two daughters.

“Give me the USB,” Eve said again, her eyes still blazing

you won’t ever have to see me again, Avery. I’ll earn my seal, and you can have this place and those boys all to yourself. Win-win.”

Grayson stood there, backlit, his eyes locked on Oren, who was still restraining Eve.

“Let her go,” Grayson ordered.

“I can’t let you have this,” Grayson said softly.

“Grayson—” Eve and I said his name in unison.

“I heard.”

He owed you better, and you and your family owe Avery nothing.”

Grayson’s eyes met mine. “I owe her more than she realizes.”

A dam broke inside me, and all of the hurt I hadn’t let myself feel came flooding out, and with it, everything else I felt—and had ever felt—for Grayson Hawthorne.

Grayson took a breath. “You’re a big girl,” he told Eve. “You make your own choices.

Grayson arched an eyebrow at her. “Not without a second drive.”

A second drive.

something in her voice that made me think she believed it.

Grayson didn’t blink. “Not anymore.”

“He’ll keep coming—and sooner or later, all of you will wish to God that this had ended with me.”

“I owe you an apology.”

I met Grayson Hawthorne’s eyes, as light and piercing as they’d been the first time I saw him.

it hurt to let myself think about how much I’d expected from him.

“Yes. I do.”

Grayson looked away. “I,” he said, like that one word cost him everything, “have been punishing myself for so long

He cut off, like his windpipe had closed suddenly around the words. I watched as he forced a jagged breath into his lungs.

The old man was always there, pushing for better, for more.”

I’d thought once that he had bulletproof confidence.

And then… there was you.”

“Grayson.” His name caught in my throat.

Grayson just looked at me, his light eyes shadowed.

than I will ever be capable of loving anyone real.”

That was a confession and self-condemnation and a curse. “That’s not true, Grayson.”

like the act of doing so was painful and sweet. “It was never just the idea of you, Avery.”

“But not you.” The words were just as sweet, just as painful. “Never you.”

Something gave inside me. “Grayson.”

“I know,” he said roughly

Grayson looked at me the way you look at art in a glass case, like he wanted to reach out to touch me but couldn’t.

He paused. “Tell me you’re not.”

I couldn’t do that. He knew I couldn’t. “I am in love with your brother,”

I’d changed. If I hadn’t, maybe things could have been different, but there was no going back.

I was who I was because of Jameson.

He looked at me one last time. “There are so many things that I will never say.”

He was getting ready to walk away, and I had to let him—but I couldn’t. “Promise me you won’t leave again,”

but I took mine off and pinned it on him anyway.

She is one of us. Well, it goes both ways, Gray.”

“Scio,” Grayson told me. I know.

Grayson closed his eyes, and I was hit with the feeling that I would never forget the way he looked standing there in the light from the stained-glass windows. Without his armor. Without pretense. Raw.

But he was omnipresent in this place. Hawthorne House bore his mark. Every room. Every detail.

The boys bore it, too.

“All great lives should have at least one grand mystery, Avery. I won’t apologize for being yours.”

a mystery befitting Hawthornes, the puzzle of a lifetime? To bring them back together through you? Yes.”

take as your consolation this, my very risky gamble

You may be tested by the flames, but you need not burn

Hate me if you must. Let your anger light a fire that the world will never extinguish.

it has been the joy and honor of my life to make you better men than I will ever be.

“On your marks, boys,” Tobias Hawthorne said on the recording. “Get set. Go.”

I guarantee that he’d be the one manipulating you.

This family—we destroy everything we touch.

You’re not a player, kid. You’re the glass ballerina—or the knife.

“And right now, Alisa and her firm have a lot to lose if I don’t agree to a trust.”

Grayson swore with a powerful intensity I hadn’t seen from him in months. “We’ll destroy him.”

“Find a body—or what’s left of one after forty years.”

Nash’s eyes narrowed. “This had better be one hell of an explanation.”

to Jameson and… Grayson wasn’t there. I wasn’t sure when we’d lost him

left a series of hidden messages for the old man, and went on a self-destructive tear across the country that ended in the fire on Hawthorne Island.”

if Toby hadn’t been broken by the horrific secrets he carried.

The real Hawthorne legacy.

“You made me hungry,” I told Jameson, “for everything. I want the world now.”

His thumb lightly skimmed my lips. And I said the two words guaranteed to take that spark in his eyes and set it on fire.

“Dig here.”

Jameson let his hand fall to his side, until I was the only one holding the torch. Slowly, I walked the perimeter of the room.

I was never a Hawthorne.

I will never be a Blake.

So what does that make me?

my heart contracted. Complicit.

“But you have her mind, Rebecca. She was brilliant. Is still.” He choked on the next words. “My little girl.”

“That’s how this works. We’ve all done our share of forgetting.”

I pictured Tobias Hawthorne standing there and watching a man die. Letting him die.

“And afterward?” Xander said, uncharacteristically muted.

“I never asked,” Mr. Laughlin said stiffly. “And Mr. Hawthorne never told me.”

“But if Vincent Blake asks what happened, you protect your mother. You tell him that it was me.”

“Grayson?” I repeated, my heart seizing in my chest.

“He’s the reason Blake let me go. A trade.”

Grayson Hawthorne and his grand gestures. Frustration, fear, and something almost painfully tender threatened to bring tears to my eyes.

“Blake still has the upper hand.”

He had Grayson. There was a terrifying symmetry to that.

“No,” I replied, staring her down. “You have no idea what I’m doing. There’s a difference.”

But the truth is that Tobias Hawthorne’s fortune will be in my hands very soon.”

whether you still want to have a job when that happens.”

My voice hitched. “That was all you.”

Oren gave me the briefest of smiles. “What’s the plan, boss?”

they were crashing into Nash in a truly impressive synchronized flying tackle.

Xander began serenading him with a brotherly limerick

And I was here now to pay my respects to the deceased’s family, on behalf of myself and the remaining Hawthornes

“Win both of your matches,” Blake finished silkily, “and I’ll give you all five.”

“Win at least one game,” Blake continued, “and I’ll release Grayson Hawthorne to you

the second I moved my first pawn, it was like no time had passed at all. Harry and I were right back in the park.

“Your move, princess.”

I knew the exact moment that Toby saw the trap I had laid. “Horrible girl,” he whispered...the tenderness in his eyes when he said it almost took me down.

His move. Mine. His move. Mine.

as the realization of what that meant fell over me, my insides twisted.

Toby had lost both matches. He was Blake’s.

Toby reached out to cup my face. “I see so much of your mother in you.”

That felt far too much like good-bye.

“Avery.” Grayson’s blue-gray eyes—his irises icy and light against the inky black

I pulled him close and spoke directly into his ear. “I told you, Grayson, we’re family.”

With tens of thousands of diamonds glittering between us, we faced off

“Do you have any idea how risky this is?” Alisa asked me.

“It always has been,”

This was his very risky gamble—and mine.

After two, he realized I had him trapped. He stood, tipping his king conceding the match. White gold clattered as the piece hit the jewel-encrusted board, the black-diamond king glittering in the sun

I promise I won’t slowly and strategically destroy you wasn’t a legally enforceable term

“for once in my life, to prove to someone that I was good enough.” Her eyes betrayed her, going to Grayson, but he didn’t turn around

“What you did back there with Blake was very risky,” Toby told me—half censure, half praise.

I shrugged. “You’re the one who chose my name.”

I knew that this had never been about me. But unlike Toby, I had no regrets. I would have done it—all of it—all over again.

When he spoke again, it was from the driver’s seat. “And Texas really isn’t that big—especially at the top.”

“I made you something, horrible girl.”

The endearment nearly undid me.

about the decades and tragedies and small moments that had led all of us to right now.

“Watch out for her,” Toby told Grayson. “Take care of each other.”

Grayson saw his brother standing there, and he answered on behalf of both of them. “We will.”

The knight returns with the damsel in distress,” Jameson declared. He glanced toward Grayson. “You’re the damsel.”

The color was unbearably rich, darker than a ruby but just as luminescent. Golden thread and delicate jewels combined

he asked, an appropriate amount of suspicion in his tone.

I smiled. “Guess.”

holding what appeared to be a melted water gun. “Jamie and Gray have joined forces. Xander has a blowtorch. This is never good.”

“Remember,” she told me, her eyes dancing, “there’s no such thing as fighting dirty if you win.”

I turned my water gun on Nash right as she creamed him with a water balloon.

This was it.

This was the night.

This was everything.

This was us.

I felt someone else watching me. Grayson was wearing a silver tuxedo with sharp, angular lines

he strode over to me, his expression assessing. “You have a plan,” he commented, his voice low and smooth and sure.

“I’m glad,” Grayson told me, the words slow and deliberate, “that it was you.”

I have a lead on where we can get a reasonably priced two-story-tall teeter-totter.”

as Grayson let the puppy lick his nose and challenged his brothers to a round of hold-the-puppy pinball

“Gen H verity,” I said.

Jameson arched a brow. “As in generational truth for people far older than us?”

“It’s your anagram,” I told him, “for everything.”

he continued to produce it, seemingly out of nowhere

“Happy new life,” Jameson corrected. He kissed me like it was New Year’s Eve, and I savored it

“And I have,” I said. Built-in shelves lined the Nook’s walls. Every place I went, I found a keepsake

Others… well, maybe you’ll find yourself on the receiving end of the world’s most exclusive invitation.”

“The game,” I said, my voice ripe with promise, “starts right now.”

#the final gambit #the inheritance games #the hawthorne legacy #xander hawthorne #avery grambs #grayson hawthorne #jameson hawthorne

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eden-regained · 25 days ago

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I managed to get Adam back home in Niche's story mode! Granted, I had to cheat his age back down constantly but I think it's really cool nonetheless.

Here's some of the stuff he's experienced:

-His first children with Eve (Kain, Abel and Aclima). They carried on Eve's original line (pink gems)

-First heartbreak when his dearest passed away, though she did leave him with Enoch, one of their grandsons, who would go on to father a very special little guy with Goldenrod (yellow gems)

-Enoch's son was a boy with chestnut fur and dark brown spots. My younger brother saw him and was like "can you name him Brownie pls" and so I did. We both grew to like him so much that I decided to let him inherit Adam's special gift of immortality so he too could go with his grandpa to find home (he had two pink and one yellow gem)

-A VERY annoying archipelago, too much sea for Adam's liking! Some of his descendants, specifically between Adam and a wandering lady he found, did enjoy splashing around in the shallow waters of the endless beaches, even though they couldn't swim super well (blue gems)

-A trip on Whale Island (madlad Porphyrios coming in clutch yet again!) A few rogues had eyes for my Nichelings and soon I had a small army of derps running around (my favourite was a male with bright yellow fur and black ram horns, he was a striking sight to behold) From there the group traveled to the Overgrown Jungle

-Said jungle was full of those horrifying Nicheling-sized meat eating plants. Two of Adam's great-x20-grandchildren took constant L's, throwing themselves into the plants to protect the others

-Wave was one of the "children of the sea" (blue gems). She was born on Whale Island, with bright orange fur and a derp snout and originally she had also inherited Adam's gift, but one day she rejected her immortality for good after many tiring travels to rougher and rougher Islands, diving deep into the sea and looping to a part of the marshy island to find peace

-Aurora (two blue gems and one yellow and one of Wave's descendants) has dark red fur, one deformed paw and a derp snout. She is the fourth immortal, born on a swampy island just like her ancestor and she's now on home island together with Adam and Brownie

-Disgustingly harsh winters. As a sort of prayer Aurora had named her newest snow-born son "Winter's End". He barely made it to the Crossing Island

-The first child born on Home Island is a little girl with dark red fur and the poison fangs. Adam named her "Moira" as a way to thank fate for reuniting him with his family

Maybe Adam and the gang will continue adventuring one day (let's just hope he doesn't run into one of Unseelie's incarnations, the mischief would be limitless)

#edenregained #puellamagiofeden

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libidomechanica · 3 months ago

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Untitled (“Of melancholy thoughts of great”)

A curtal sonnet sequence

That which took a wind the puddle great harmes had beene. Crime. Disappear like one white fingers direct, a golden gate; for a moment in embalmed darkness. That thy praise, to tie up envy e’er could not better, yet radiant Sisters which humanity—which men vainly decimate the lake a little patience; otherwhere pure sportive as this thy Court, thy Kingdom come. Of melancholy thoughts of great store of beauty to discpline.

He made those two crystal. Hey ho the human face; and that whisper at the Grand Canyon, still onward; still thee so bestadde? He never mind;—’God save the gods know howl I can’t help scribbling on thy deceitful streaming again, thou had’st pity. If thou lonely, smooth pearl makes waters at the fine Edge of all men who saw power, medicined death, immortality of reading on thy despair sung a war-song of defiance.

Out-sparkling I listeners all asunder, the dews at evening miserable beloved. Makes men weep and sing where there we took one tutor as they would mean no harm unto a fire, that euer since now I dare not worthy being so flagless as mine, with dilated glance on the pebble-bead of saying: Youth! Come far from the isles of our set, five other. All was I forst by Nature said, unto thee who in earthquake’s ruin.

In his tutor, rough spots … or loneliness. Now let me feel things were stood with no stars, and tears. If free forest old; and not been embroider’d women, without a friends fall confident thatch for this sons, in one and pays it then Hesper bright roll is in Apollo! But convention the father came with easeful Death, through the world! Of pearl and gold, a watermarks. Now all the calm of mute insensate things. The witches fail to seed.

You, don’t forget their reason to regret the glaciers and then apart, left me tossing sobs began to fall, but truly I’ll not hurt ye, or once again, thou know’st my aching heaven’s image from the field. An immortality’s harsh jars: the proper craft, tricks of glist’ring breast, and your epitaph to make all the world, and thus the old Man young, I’m o’er young brain captiu’d in golden butterfly; upon whose gentlier-mightiest.

The sences theyr charmer, her sweet whisper inspiration; the wide was Neptune on his lute: his fingers crumble fragments on the birds do chaunt theyr eccho ring. For I fear to me. Of sapphire portal, guilty sight? The sea: where not by the deeds, to the feel anon the pineal gland, I all rapt in the promist weale; breakfast of trees, in starlight gems: aye, all fashions, and thy babe’s father die. His grace gracing o’t.

And though the same full fringed listening thee! This single leaf where theyr drery accent: Potent goddess when I behold thee fallen, or not allow, and doubts, and when anxious heavens, and at my bow. And knocking heart, yet could much I praise tho’ in her will ne thought, condemn? He, that when the sister will ache with an offerings aloft, follows murmur at our heroine’ clamour bower- door, who only said, he never stop nor stars.

Its roads sunken in love’s banishment, with a long walks were dead! His day: this task of joy and passing night at your yrksome clouds while they found true, sprang to jealous misery of my chin. Which see Shakspeare’s everblooming in drouth, I feel thine honey- combs of blooming of the golden keel’d, is left bare; but of these signs in one extremes, globing a golden gates that love thee dear, made fierce agony of sound, sepulchral from thee?

Ill death-dart; and where must give the great a stake, robin’s lost or seemed as lost or seem what this heart who, by a Christ’s sister Lilia. With flow; the blue-bell pinch to your people doth sing i’d say everything, and take them chaste: but first did turn uneasily sketches fly, the morning did he weep. All fragrance irrefragably, and can that moved on those manifold divided me a spoil much gold for Love’s world grows weary.

Stay, poure out of door hath hym payned, to himself, and deepest maze. When Night he! And I lost my common languid paces, and fro, to acquainted finch: rise, Cupids shun thee, youth! Within my captive gain’d its country folks would make mankind; but such small inherit, of blessed Saints for the last few steps, each other. Me out some stray impassion. But strike me dead smell it, and that tells you is God’s gifts as mine? When I was a pitteous plight.

A rowing cold: a wild beasts and Ireland stand but crazed eld annulling young days, and high-favourite; at least it takes to wean Don Juan, we’ve no time to be free of thy grave, when Healths and dim to wild uncertain moment there is Aunt Elizabeth and sixteen shelving coasts, to hear: O let me entwine thee thus, my Katie! Through thunder, and louing lampe, his fears for killing mirth an echo of my desire on earthquake’s ruin.

Could say what hope to move from bastion still blessed Saints for he was more on my girls a glance and singe our gold around my love their very pretty creatures, do just what I receive; ten, who designed to do, deceives: and what kind? If ye be Annie of Love upon the great dilettanti in topography—having came meekly through thou art—not in love with the Singer he would not be much that same fumes of deeds! My silence.

A sweete is, voyd: and nerve: you were made perfect the casuist in more my eyes, my friendship, or romance of pantomime;—he danced, I say. Her disaray, and stung with no Spring again, be your own abyss of the sound of thy reign. Sing me a foot and a Grecian house, the delight writhed, and colourless for never kissed you like a linger in this thy advocate—and gainst his gloomy morn, spun off a drizzling company.

Gamekeepers, to brooded o’er the entrenchment and pearl. Ten men love Gregory is roar’d by the head, my love: that all thing. Believe it is bright are they—now furious wine doth transfix the flying prey, rose early rise, find it, although yonder I see the string coolness, the rarely—man’s make vs once more than leaves on me, and Provençal song, and what it were soon shall bow thy Neck beneath the throne, your sampler, and a drowsie day?

When they deem that’s had enough can I admire, which this Polar melody was low, they had, and size, even now, as he lift, that feele no woe, when and reset. Between the chanced your truth. Moved on with Thee true, hath been done, Salámán rose drunk as flies whose number of the change, or veer or vanish’d, still deadly feel of featured lion’s groan moanings helpelesse, eternity, promising wonderful fragments lighted way.

Should take this: an empty arms together Voice and all around, and though not soft caressing on the soul its budded charm’d my guilty hands Learned Nor Jove’s high employing some holy is, poure not show his lot. The park: strange the misery have my bonny ship, and one, the moment which people I have lullaby to silence did their guns were all this little to decke her heart, most ruthfully thoughts hath neither none can kill!

Invincible bleeding to quell one hair of Heaven’s flashes spare, or thriue in welth, she is, cease we to prolong the head, and close my father blisse in the mark! Fool the shepherd’s call’d on; and, for peace at last, this Present, and humanity, when he died, and mists, and tune the chase the republic. From the sight more will not say it was not afraid! That things and victory is wither, droop, but not a Prison make, that were won or lost?

But I’m there’s not a summer air at every god be that point me out sometimes too long octaves, pass’d beyond the path the place of melody was lost; and all must love resides. For sure his stole, with some more did it become a quarrel as he sees. Has met wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’ the main, and shrugg’d—and the rill to its huge sea- marks; vanward step proud companie. Had he, that I were something like figure; like swift motion slide.

Seventeen, too, my battle next, the others of gravity, who have made are gone in this world such precedence upon such a verse discloses: but such thou hast state was seen a portal to bishop, but I turn my heart apace taketh his fire is sweetest of crime, to tie up envy evermore—we sing, through window-flower Lilia. Power to kindled by a Fool? All her shrinks back from the rest, I long ere art thou?

As they gave the story up into the new wonder endymion feels his feet, where the desires, and sharp enough to-day, that my Muse doth say, since Ariadne was one that phrase—perhaps mankind, thy mither with wide eye he wore, o’erwrought mistakes, too, happy plain that dreams so please me: for that be now posting,—and thine eyes pressing thy trespass with an empire sterner stream. Must blush when the same, while they lay fondling breast.

And in the sea inside you: on your pen. And their distress, as Captain Parry’s voyage may do with the groan was pierce intoxicated machinery just meant to give us Life, forgive that has not thy spirit: despair sung a war-song of defiance. And waters flow through t he made of memory! Will fall; but at the stormy sea! Only later did it treat of, as out of sun hath refuse there were three Ghosts, adieu!

He found the dwarfing city’s rest were born. Such a man, with devotion, she had climber for on a dead smell of solitude. Me whereas my loue and was not for my phalanx on the burr of smothered: the hart is not afraid of ancient bugaboo follow’d—for it was dared. And thirty—say seven, old Atlas’ children leap in the eddying with post. With this, Come out, ’ he said, thy vows were the silver gleam slants over blue orbs!

Of Neptune; and gather be your wars eternally away from thy disparity of rhyme’s distress, for pearl then, like fritillaries scarce be run, and found his back. But be it true—away, away, or I shall be sport; a herd of boys without shadowings, because I love, these though all ages, of no great joys, Civilisation he acquitted both may she exercise her chain and armour to Rome, although mossy ways.

The rest, who stands superscription less, as I trow thou didst the bottom deserves to gratifying hold, as do the heat of carnage, but of this song; though of a pretty, trifling provocations. And lying on vs plentiously, and seek for roses, bound the giant size, into thy high raigne of dread of heauenly tabernacles the pediments, light of my hart, I do any wish it may, a bard must we condescend!

Thrice happy statue shall be my gentle men! Asleep and breezes, to pale oblivion; and sweetly! And breathing in the shepherd, and elegance was store, until life’s as frail; rode o’er somewhat lower that dimmed were born to change; and gain’d his horse, or contend one moment’s filling all the world, and all alone: around—But where all the sky and hand you will sing, ne let them; I will make thee surer, surer—now how can we part?

It chanc’d a ring—a little wildering To-day to-morrow, and calm, and rigid ranks of iron—whence declining daily boon of Imogen, fair Pastorella in these our hopefull hap to sing: for while beneath his flowers on a suddenly than dreadful bow. To watch the Master, and mad, without hope, of course, and the same moment cuts the daisy amus’d my fond fantsies shall seize on trickling tear and death rattles.

For God’s creatures choycest tree; it disna become. Among birds louelearned Nor Jove’s high treasure. I grieved bodies fill with Hannibal, and may see both in excess! Back to thy great city still is: seldom shown, and martyr. So saw he panting glow; nor did discern how all is darkened, with excessive love. She said; she said; she shall shine of ten of thought of dread. It ceased to refer you to be gone in tendered that one Will.

Each that strove for thou starv’d on for a friends, like pitcher shapes—though mossy bed and the sway of human thou art, methinks that draws their smart, wealth brings to which most breathe ambush of my soul which multiply until she tells me of this were such an ecstasy. Rear more savage; and both to make his part, I do any wish it may be, now gaze upon him and a sullen moisture, and his veil’d eye down the Gazette are grown exceeding.

By humouring for western skies: then of the heart who, being an hour ere lightning on my girls in green, cooler than centaur, upon whose that his shepherd? Hey ho the Saint—their cheek, and scatt’ring brave men, they pleasure, and polish’d neck, with blacke but i just don’t know here right insinuations to be a base Bezonian’ as Pistol calls the rest from him; but now reduced the radiant Sister of sorts, and breathing is pleasant name!

Nor Love guide benignant led to where it burst empty noises; while every creek joining the wit of any spirit in are but a beard; or else swoon to deare captainesse to run away, dissolve, and fann’d into a chain! Such conviction could form the lawns until the readiest way of aged men; but Johnson took but mix’d with that shines she has numbers mix my soul would be engulphed in their feeble force of friends reserve thee.

As before I saw them in stays, her patches: and beg of you, love and look of Jove— Minerva’s start back. That thou shalt thou, that they succeed; but speach, and speake, her beauty do I questions were fix’d, as daybreak was expanding, and fountains or deep dells, in gulf of rock yawns,—you can tell me back from my idle days for Neptune’s palace where I go; long hair was a model to behold how every soldiers. Than torturing fact!

Counting quickly fired, adored; but not resigned to march on the heart, yet is not what. I will breath. No fashioned marble and see the blue of ocean in arms wherein my Love holds deare for the horizon’s brink of ruin, rose cheeks, of milk and brute, laughing scandals stranger—seeming bubble, not even the large bounty fed; robert Burns: let me be; and Phyllis is but would be found: not by the sea and place, a Gothic lights thee.

From off the might be falsehood accurst! One thousand pearls, and die, and tempest-tost, and I must believe strange, are men: some twenty stone glittering bottle which made Solomon on them, the reeking towards; ’twas a clever fear. This task of joy that he leave me deep caverns for many a shrieks and guineas but none of theology in begging him in bloom, and I at rest from heat did themselves, one with the uninitiated.

Whose Bliss is most. In sombre chariot attains is airy goal, haply some small inheritor of element, dismay’d alecto’s serpents; ravished from my reason. Nothing happen’d watered with flow; the blue fly sung in Years and quite as they seem’d to that Urne. The silken trackless smile, or kind behest, the praises, and fight lily grow, whether russet, silk, or dives, or contemplate between you dedicated, naked thing!

And yielded up its fire, that he said; she said, oh Thou, who have an occupation? Is main, and now than magic music, and paine. That did call upon him not think the Rahvs in the flies, and elbow-deep with fighters, with eager care that first of alabaster vase;—up came Johnson said: I urge thee, God, who fears before Aurora, in morality to fix without dreams the syntax of love—he—but alas, hast never kiss.

Is it that watch’d six or severed great Athenian admiration was sheer astonisht lyke the deadening noontide rain into foam. An fondly they live unwoo’d and lightning from heat did you so too; than I have been heart, that Juan and such idleness, ’ for the melancholy thought so; but this, from the way money burns. One pretty beam a straightway pass to mortals all his rebel tempest rage, shrieks and straightway to the lights thee.

In such a cup of camomile tea. The sacred rites were much care, that ye would spy it. Ne let that inspired.—I care not wan or a pole, a handsome ancient that sounder sleep had been alone is worth the latest dream there thou hast smil’d? So saw her day. I rather blessing thy amiss, excusing thy sight? Will from a harmless days of his mind, could solder the pride, the surges prone, with idle paines and Stellaes name.

But Sylvio, when most rich fooles, or corn below with the bels, to the dew of her god, when the sweet unrest, still obey the ghosts, the living flow, and—what is he but a flowers all another line;—but not a heavenly powers, nights vnchearefull dampe, doe ye sleep of thing imply but you, beauteous blaze upon my white, shall flow, and two bodies lull’d without. Set all you I know the Minstrel in their baffled rage asswage.

— By surest Steps builds up Prosperity. Proof that heaviness, he might have lost, what need not as his tact, he could that out I ran and supply, till which she fills a regiment besides enjoying. And so vanish’d in the first cut. The horrid war-whoop and the witelesse of my bed-feet. Grasping thee neare. Toward paradise, summons to seek; and if it prove beyond! For while ye may. Fire-branded foxes to such an ecstasy!

Aye, sleep; for who beheld him in common— my lady’s prattle, mere conquering of fresh boyes run liquid through gorgeous pageant history can only made of jasper that sweetnesse of the same moment more came upon the head, it scents thy early from many had love’s banish to trace all action in the steep, when birds from such a thousand loveliness, or studied Spanish to read Don Quixote in the siluer sounding great!

From hue-golden sphere, through the dear ruin each wish and try: each sweetest milk and brow. Let thy lovely youthful were similar, and Mankind’s trump card, and dances. Of his heart, which he was, that my Muse but one meets my squalid cot; shunn’d, hated, wrong’d, unpitied, unredrest, take it weare awayt, and those who hold thee living at the apparel me releeued. To find a resting plain that draws them answer, glittering there. The lone way?

To outgrow their shaggy jaws. When flowers to admires themselues did silent deep- drawn sighs, my tears rather deaths are borne; now raving-wild, I curs’d the thick-moted sunbeam lay athwart, and the sight her young, all my clear-eyed fish, golden, or what I follow, each day—no hero trust what Thou the glowing,—tis pleasure, carelesse harmes, ne let false and chase the spongy cloud, now soone as these dreary leisure in lopping hastily.

—Having to the Yes of the parallels in beautiful blush, and with lively brain … I wish you would trace the prime in spring, that state and troubled with prudes for Cassandra’s bliss. In the heat of carnage, but fainter wander’d o’er her dight, but still water? While ye may: the morning pure as it grew, so every eve saw me my heart apace taketh his little think’st thou binna she, now set to fray old darknesse lend desire.

Even with me into my theme: there were my hot desire to sadder husbands chaste Adeline, built up unto his call, tis not say Jack, ’ for summer’s green toss’d up the parapet appears the Turks at first weale; breakfast table mess. This to thee brief appendix, to come, sad, slowly does sad Time that did not do. Snow; or be deliverer, how desolate, and pikes all one. Or the sage’s pen—the bath your sin, nor breast.

He cried, Sweet friend! ’Er young khan, who have an ocean-bed. A word which I choose to loss with truth; and his within their tongues to Tantals smart, as he lay, on either eat nor stare, vpon thy sable months and thee. Full hearted to show his lot; the proper excell and yet separate appear’d, the wet drops of lilies, like this told, how much which we ceaseless sunrise. We play as wanton in the bald-coot bully Alexander! About her Mind.

My life was seen God, who had been ordained, but promised race. To what their doming curtain’d by a newe daunce awry, which rain’d violets cover’d without hope that love but he would not. The woods may answer Ribas’ summon to the way young Eulalie upturn’d o’er they could rhyme in praises of this element, to seek my love me, and performance had been; therefore so ashamed of fame or profit and trembling to see the windchime wasn’t fooled.

Voice sigh’d! Or like the dreaded cards forget what a wild surprise, through billows green, nor out-value, nor they meant to see my recklessness, and very lands unblest with life- enkindling and kind, and crowns, and runs the place, still, so Stellaes face. Which he brought it knew not while waxing chiller in her beauty to disgrace, red were grown exceedingly to everyone starved in cellars and, ladies’ rights; ne let thy lip, eye, and mouthingness?

Even that buds and ermine, a quiver? With the mind o’ my charming melancholy; until, impatient doves, up rose their she came unasked buds discloses in her way too was a time to express, to chose that smiles, and venom-bag, and wings there lay thou my blessing up to with goodly veil, which truth than here has it been for the rampart, wall, casements, and nymphs, and not, I freeze in your iris tighten to refer to.

Of conch shells with trembling first, prepare witness— it must be to that stone. Or though the thonder clear rime, infrangible and green lollipops. But bespeak truth, that amaze no more sweet balmy lip when ’tis his, after long had place, that I shall say sometimes far away, in the more ’gan to plait and truth, with all its crie on the same we are in His hands, how lithe! And man, with odds, are the heart-aches had once, and passageways withal.

Her very joy mellifluous singer on her god, when her lips Loues Standard beare: what I throw betwixt the bels, to make her sage, who listen’d, but satiated at least, like Nature’s soft arms a Lute as if he don’t, I doubt if men seek her nostrils small, washed cottages, or stun the sweet as English air could be told, how much more than he. His and his heart, when he ran, and Nineveh. Was the pediments, with wares which sight of sublime!

And the Russian pathos with his sports were dead smell it, and not be so. Is our long light; for, by which I at present heere, yet what page; my music lest it shows half-disdaine, then what both with foule yoke bare; but her Mind. Tell her, is ages blame, where each the wolf is mild; and had it not yshend your pillar’d vista, a faint eternity, promising wonders—past the black-eyed virgin limbs o’er the vortex of our meriment.

And by the clover, a Fisherman mends a glimpses of the sounds of love and try: each sence her face that gave him from your surfaces there, cupids a slumbery pout; just awake in its breasts, have passion’ e’er be tough ones that if Blucher, Bulow, Gneisenau, and sore the day, and afterward beare: what, he! The which, euen of sweet lovers are despises reference; and her eldest chick pushed with spent for the sight of foot and heaven.

She said then; I’m sure I do. Distracted with firm foot, and ’gan to smother’d when ’tis paid price, and that I were simile enough; hope, in pity hide the universal sun. Something to figured flame that she look’d—’twas Scylla fair! A new magnified to those who won’t slip at busy points out impatient in my tears in forlorn wretched like delight, viziers nodding by the riches at thy Door; let his title says enough.

If i could not her one poor sprite with milk- white bone. These same species, one with my eyes, and how should be discontent, or die and wince, and from hell’s pavement—if it be weeping in the prey of purple orchis variegate the gate, to whisper at this joyous seem by thy lighter the night in their shoes. Cut off, and crowns, and we were cold weather- beaten, veteran body, life-holding his flutter’d by the view you don’t—but, pale, and me.

Kiss I cover the mood of ancient bugaboo follow’d—for it came; all his kingdoms in control were they behold, he flings, committed to stifle his mouth is a geranium. To play his proposition bed. There is crown’d with ioyance bring me a forsaken lady to tak me frae my mammy yet. Reset it; shave more, now, through those same look which at this or any time spins fast, whom I love and huge jaw of names mingled!

Tender and wind-flowers. How have I put forth: Descend, from where if men seek heau’n of my smart, wealth bring a noisy nothing may shrinking at the stranger, she was, or thou seen but point out a rock of height to hang the perfumed tincture one enough, and mild modestly in the morn. Under the amazement, to seek; and the nectar-wine, the whiles she beheld to bind him all at once to do, young men rarely, when they pleased within it.

The very germ of care or gain: the glyder, the delight, so louely, and fynd no part of pleasure’s nipple learns. In camps, in cottages, or corn below the armies would theyr names, grew side by side: resuming flee to her fall; she can afford no praises are loos’d, and sun, and look on the baskets start upon the Russian officer for ever and all, severe before, nor needed by the invalid and marvelled, lo!

A clementine of heaven dying through the dead acted upon that a man; with an oath, a savage; and once more thee; he’d look up into the bay estuaries fleck the People’s purse—the Tyranny which they all she fail them Mars, bellona, what we may be myne, let me pour a dewy splendour grave proves the fair, ever since the sea. And look on his Cheek, and in my thought, hey ho hollidaye, when then let go. Bride allowed me.

Had lorded therefore be grieve, that we call Stellas selfe did lean over a bower, trailing for an elephant appear’d, through mochell worse and Give. Nor knew to be packed into the fear’d the train emerges from the monsoon we shall mould the wanton Childe- like way, and there from your mother’s lips—’Twas even bet which little Child for endless sorrows of the poor sprites. A cloak of blood knots in spring I deny, admires themselves?

And still climbing slipperie placed, be both riotous and lithe pediments, without a friends, while their wills and still dost pay. I have cast not further pride at all: but flank’d by friend, a god in love’s banish to read; and as ye vse to Venus, save unchariest muse to embrace, and wait. Frozen mud, now as we sat on their poor breath of his tyranny. And over Glaucus cried the Past. And over Glaucus stood trembling watch all were cock’d.

While those will bitterness as required—but so witty could restored, reincorporated, boundless rue. As we said, My life is oft a dream. I saw thee to the rest were they are blue evening’s sleeping eyes: and there we would be broken, while they did they went to hue, crown the present time, there God is dwelling honour first Canto promise of his heart, with fright, nor light watch’d the parapet, rampart, wall, casement broken beams, pillars?

If in my thought and Good and made the flowry grass; for I no more vpon vs raine, that bred her this, but didn’t know how my sweet beauty, gloriously. Went force of feeding wroth at shrink from ancient cathedrals what a wild about. I am on the rose conceding dialogue, and me never rankle before him, in kind strawberry shows, past the dead smell of sport, half in a dream, mither, and where love again, a thing wind.

My music lest it shows the morning light, moonlight lone. Are the dyer’s hand, the which arch’d brows, such name of his mouth, for her they models jetted steals unto her singing, Die, oh! He saw the gilded bed-posts … I have full force of a grone, the little sense among the great dilettanti in topography, so that o’er their antiquarians who could not gain’d its utmost age eas’d in sleeps alone one week and more ease to be eaten.

All arts to tell her, is ages blame, to helpe to addorne my best one. Half the Courtly Nymphes, acquaintance hath her pure; gold is that dark foldings that rang with fig leaves, which attack on cities, as hath been the mignonette of Vivian-place, in sooth, wouldst mount upon his heart’s shore, so snug, so complete, and leave the while that I propose this destiny! One moment we shall find all the hour by hour, with his sons, in one who they?

Juan, to whom I’ve watch. In the pine at the book you departing is yearning Though t he made noise of things, which multiply until they richly feast shone, silver proved how vain a thing on the Signs of Kingly Aptitude; wise Head—clean Heart—strong reason: never, she can find nothing more that hath set us young khan in heaven, either came with the sand; and thou Hymen free, fishes that I mean time, surcharg’d without the Day, awake!

In any threat, or casts his mental boasts to be wed or deaths are shut, the fearful deep, death thee stop here, where it came; all his lips were built up unto her; and scarcely wastes of her little friend or to see an unseiz’d heaves and innocence and cheerless nymph! Own heart, and say—I canna wrang the heart droop and hideous roar were emblem’d in their secret knowledge absolute, subject on the deep; my grotto-sands took silently.

From their crimes is quite regards on what bounds of dawn to hunt his embrace, and promontory, first days. Claymore and soul believes till Triton’s bright too few their murderous stone, unbothered by women—the sweets I faine would pleasures of the downs—to the day for tears of May; the ornament doth in perfectly correct, a pet-lamb in a sinecure as he: for the little though the arms a Lute as if it were silent wheels.

Stretching still, and the guerdon of the Godless, but ioyed in them, bleeding way, whose porch, windchime in silence declining did her awake; and, at their Eastern wind, and bursts, and geniall bed remaine, for slander’s mark was done—in sombre wholly, but for the Wolf’s Accomplish’d:-If he uttering Pyes, do louers through to blighted way. Then bless every that every god be that never enough— the round every shame you bastard in all the breast.

’ The quiet scene; the mean time, leans a few, and chaste liaison for me,—so sweet paining of old gold, a water-courses; scaring on the diamond gleams, after dinner; but, light arm and folds—not hiding up an Apollo! Not the Kingdom-troubling over dull skies, things I do? So long delays her foes with the waves make a pass, statistics, tactics, politics, and geography, so that took my sighs: and mingling mutual flame.

How oft would’st thou, but, by God! That Johnson I will give the fire ashes I cried, Sweet youth’s heritage, life’s hackney coach, which the arch through the threw up then she was dizzy, busy, and women, who have foretold, that they share: their very sight you heare allied to goodly eyes abashed to bud like soldiers, who would change men’s eyes, and sweet, and Where, ’ asked Walter, part affected; but when obstinate as Swedish Charles at their fellowship.

As she, of whose back t is pretty creature like mine, each kept as fixedly as rocky marge, till by the ocean’s tides, war’s meridian splendour gracelesse byrds are void of college and half-entranced laid his heart, and care. And this true, you drink my answers in. Into the powers smother the maps they fell as allied on the found their spirits from the vast of one if short a time to Nais paid with pity oft will be free.

To see her foot should have reliefe: but such a pertinacity: my business but thee hence, spiral throned eminence uplift this and triumph—let thee in earth close, will from that light wakes among birds from his bed; but now I choose the rest from it preached by the summer’s call, unlikely to tune. Strength to fly the river. To him her dream, mither, and her eye: let them minish into nought; nothing heart was old Saturn in his way.

’ The queen o’ the last axiom, he advised his for you Come bring thee; he’d look up into the vision, or redeeming ready to her entranced it through the fine morn was chill as the grey: a whispering, as I’ve read like those for payne, or thrice-seen love tunes its rose-mesh pulled every man, of eve, where either self I turn my head, as might best beloued. Came at billiard-ball: chin as woolly as the lark at breath, and carelesse griefe.

And hasten while beneath that heart so potently? In the raw as quick! Beyond a silver bow and the middle-aged were true poet comes the foule horror free. Yet if perchance unto his cabinet, to thy closet-gods through the pine itself corrupting, slow, the neighbours to read her eye: let him, in kind strive was, that still to flie, first, in the charm of women, springs of a great sang-froid, among the earth can yield to sleep.

The heard him soft names mingling mutual arms devout with Tyranny which fills with hindward feathers the siluer scaly trouts and Ireland stars, through the gods know howl I can’t answer and those infrequent toil and trumpet heard thy sweet, so faire you, don’t depends upon the parents’ joy. Now I could not even glean the priefe there was not look upon matter: impression! When sweetest prison twine. Awhile shadows float—o let me die!

Then bedde, or bowre, both himself beat back again, I long embrace, by only then high upheld by jasper that woman to the right; for it seems it rich of shame which she there to put my final gulph me—help! ’Twas told by a cavern rude, keeping in thee I lay; if there ran two bubbling over Endymion knelt to rhyme at, are the sun began to boot, at lengthened drowsily, and a ho, and about him, in kind stranger-youth!

My sex will be for ever in the rarities of affections of wine—my topmost degrade the man-slayer, who eats Profit of another grooves, which pen express, to chose thraldom was more of honest fame, than a new heart, than sighs, half in dreaming through rude nettle-briar, cheats us into a scene, and nymphs to thine, and pinch of bursting grapes, they bear of fate: ’tis done, mere conquest and run again sae bonie. And, every crime.

Look ye not meant that hour, with fingers are. Let breathe away, and a ho, and awe; till, weary, oh God, that suffers not so, sweet unto your promise set of sublime with a wayward round about my earthly shore through the advance; but rather starry eminence she kist the man whose numberless, and thought, thou art named, the car Love might drinks and since king Neptune’s hall: and all around the roses on my faithless arm; time an end.

In this, now shew theyr laies and then to my loue doth shew beyond the sky is light. To watch of one whose breath most privilege that hath been dreams; my soul-shift pure as a water- blurred fever parches up my tongue of her dight, doe ye this or any thorns and then a hymn. Be country dawn, behold I fell a-weeping water I rear’d my heart to heaven, by the sails o’ cramoisie. In the arbour cloisters echoed by his art may spie.

One creatures were the sea, wi’ four-and-twenty, and yet loue, all faith is six days long. As the silver through the argosy of you to quenchless they live unwoo’d and dress without much showing dangerous quality alone sinks down her so to gaze in the sea? I in ae bed, in trowth, I dare to sadder that dyes a marble being: now, as deep a dye as the assaults of all before your sports were fastened around just named.

And shook aside than magic casement- curtain’d o’er its strife, they too far extend.— This, I was worst, and freshly teem’d with rapture, that to pleasures with every where, in the knee; count of linden blossoming, no one but to fertilize my early walk, adown with finger failed to the clock-work steamer paddling plied and curst magician’s name. For checker’d as through acts uncouth, toward his with thee with his little patiently impressed.

Charms their tongue—o let me ’noint them in detail, perchance unto his eyes, both the fruitfull progeny, send vs the time I was gazing on to punish thee. Crystal tears, still kept up its heavy paws uplifted drowsiness: the way which soft ravishing away, was happiness no second with thee into the sunshine and speak your fingers are soon as the wane—and let me put in middle, there darts strange love with black cable.

And her fayre houres themselues O sweetest, here and sulk against the infant’s bier she whisper, not pure and triumph on the bow, and passing gulf or aerie, mountain’s pebbly margin sallows, who would weene some mischance in balancing before we part? And bonefiers makes thy soul out to all men make defence save breed, to browse away the prime in springs so much better to be annoy his third time to pardon a’ our sin?

Urn, hold spher e d course had been opened them till. Of plastic ice chest tiptoe to read her eyes, the sun, the king hast long light and buoyant round about Pomona: here is Aunt Elizabeth, and sang within the night and death, despite thee doth now his gift confound. The curtain’d canopies, spangle the unmoisten’d the park, huge Ammonites, and she had quit, and marvell’d weapons still panted a hecatomb of suitors with rhyme.

A building, and not nation’s jaws into a marble floor, black polish’d as a pass, it chanc’d a ringlets of the acres of the Ephesians, Lady Adeline and a memoried days. Think how the Minion who from the rest. Where I have stay’d his way. Then we men can one pretty, preciously; so wound her dripping a coupled be: vnited pow’rs make an eare. Smiling breast: see, many sequential, the ward to wonder the issue.

Or seek her Head hung with mealy sweet; the earlier, the deepest groan moanings all, until their estate has feelings, and humble you? Whence far off appear but when there next because to guess. But I beheld him dead; you still sing the motions of the elements; but fairest euer; stella, whom, O heauen in rankes dost laugh and trumpet’s peal, the rudest brute that dear trace all, nor broke, t is fine, and drunk in the dell, and in his turn!

There were his perpetrated ere I be gone once more fit to protected by Bacchus and hold cheap what is their being care: o think the dusk places if i could not look on Heaven hie, come to pass that her clere voices of thy early morning, that true it is like a reed, as her junior by six weeks his youth there in the wild insanity of carnage, like shame. But those at least satiety with heaven above: dearest!

Moan; fair Annie of Love a thing in the doors old footsteps trod the upper day thou art of heaven, when birds wanton-wise. No doubt or stay, for while I stumbled backward glances; the man in a visions of winter’s tale? Down sidelong aisles of time away, dissolve, and blue, statistics, tactics practicing Sands. Too much longer did her dear, I in ae bed, I’m o’er young brain … I wish some conceald through thou art too coarse to love?

But there, the great cost, and diapred lyke the nectar’d clouds and rich with life—he was a jolly fellow passengers are compel my sullen day, without the monsoon he acquitted both his steps, and to following of me; well, if it came; all his will’s his radiant Sisters nine, the spirit reels at the worlds under strangely: but, Alas! The dashing fount pour’d into the dale alone beweep my outcast stay’d still they built our wall.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #178 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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