#but in retrospect I wish I went in blind

[madeleinelovescolours]

Buffy fans can have a little gaslighting

As a treat

[edgeworthsunnecessaryfeelings]

I just wanna play ace attorney all day I need more wrightworth I NEEEEDDD TO PLAYYYY

[yurucamp]

hiii! i just finished your game (fb&c) and WOW it was cool. i saw an edit of it on tiktok and loved your art style so i decided to check it out. went in totally blind, and wow... glad i did.

very unsettling. very good. very disturbed. feeling impacted!

do you have somewhere where you speak in-depth about the story or writing process or characters? i want to read more about it :)

thank you so, so much! i'm really grateful that you took the time to check it out and play it, and even more honored to hear that it inspired you :-)

i started writing a sort of retrospective in the year after i released it, but never finished it... it seems ridiculous to say, but i honestly don't remember enough about the writing process to write up something interesting, it (the plot) was just something molding in the back of my mind over the course of a year. i didn't write down a script, i just wrote lines as i drew new rooms and then, as i playtested, i edited them to make it all flow together better.

in hindsight, i certainly wish i'd kept better track of my thoughts as i was making it! i'm sorry for the boring answer

[tetitous]

I wrote a lot, and not everything at the same time, but like brain got too full of Wakfu so yeah, thoughts time. I tried organizing it chonologically.

I wonder if Ruel will end up going back to Arpagone eventually, to me it seems like he decided he was done with her for good. That seems crazy but at the same time I'm pretty sure she did the most toxic thing you can do to an Enutrof. I mean, they haven't been together for a long time, I kind of wish they did talk to each other, set the records straight and left it there, but I'm okay with what happened too. Also good for Arapgone on finding something that makes her feel worthwhile by helping others.

Ruel really said the real treasure was the son we got along the way in the end, and he was so right for that.

Yugo getting the shit kicked out of him because Iops seem to have face blindness is some real comedy, the lightness in the whole scene really helped me feel that Yugo was still very much him. And given how heavy anything about the antagonists is that felt warranted, that made me feel very good. He's very chill though. Retrospectively I think it confirms what a lot of people like me may have been thinking, that Yugo was generally very tense due to body dysmorphia on top of everything else. Good for him.

I'm going to be real, Pin calling for Flopin got me so hard. I said "oh no" out loud.

Eva went full big sister mode upon seeing Yugo ;-;. I always loved their bond, it's at the center of one of, if not the best solo episode of the whole show, s2 ep 16, so the fact that it never weakens has me in a chokehold. I see the little gestures and I think "oh, they're family", with them it's all in the little gestures.

Yugo recieveing a big iop group hug and going :> was so cute. Kind of surprised Goultard also was part of it but Yugo deserves all the hugs so I absolutely am taking it.

Yugo telling Eliatrope to do something or fuck off and being the only one to manage to get her to do something has to be one of the biggest nat 20 on persuasion of all time. She's coming back to deliver the kids once things are safe though, right? And without the eye thingies right? Right?

No more Brakmar? Damn, that feels weird.

King Osamodas can take my fists, the way he just refuses to listen to Amalia and is barely willing to do the same to Armand given the nature of the invasion is really irritating.

The joy of Ad upon seeing Yugo still alive ;v;

Little interesting parallel of Yugo and Eliatrope both using the same force field technique. Not sure if it means anything, but I know it felt relevant to me.

Amalia going "are we about to kiss rn" and Yugo going "nah babe there's a war that'll leave a bad taste. Promise I'm hyping up my game for later though" was perfect. I got scared that they would kiss at that moment because it didn't feel right, but at the same time you cannot tell me they wouldn't want to soo damn bad.

Ad and Armand's eyes turning purple upon using the Eliasphere, huh...

Oh so Dathura is still there and places herself as a last defense for the Tree of Life, interesting but like, she just disappeared in the meantime? Well it's not her story I guess we didn't need to know, but still.

Joris asking Yugo if he knows what he's doing. Joris, he knows about as much as usual, he's just doing his best but thanks for making sure.

The way Eva and Tristepin react to their family being put in danger is interesting to me. Pinpin will jump to their rescue, but he's the one moving, that makes sense to him. Eva is, and has always been, the type to stay in place at the face of danger, whether out of fear or stubborness, so she asks for Pinpin to be the one to move away from the danger, but she won't move. Their dynamic is precious.

I'm curious about Pinpin's hair... burning? What's going on there?

Armand's sacrifice was powerful, he wasn’t a great prince, but he was an amazing King.

Joris! Joris! Joris! Joris! Imma hype that little man. Him and Yugo making the Team Blue Shorties (well, not so much anymore) was great. Team Demigods was also pretty damn cool.

Aurora is building a very bad rep for the Osamodas Kingdom by flying away, but I undertand the pain she must have felt at the moment. Her father still was treating their countries' alliance as something purely strategic, but she loved him. To her that meant something, and Amalia's simple movement of rejection while under intense distress and grief was enough for her to decide to listen to her father and not to fight by everyone's side.

Actually Eva IS very much the one to get people to move. She gets Amalia back up too.

Yugo turning Oropo's words against Toross is interesting. Wonder if it has any weird implications for the future. Maybe not though, maybe Yugo has been warned enough, he's not the type to enjoy the feeling that comes with being extremely powerful too much after all. The Eliacube freaked him out, the 6 Dofus made him scared the whole time and the consequences sucked, and the Eliasphere can litteraly cause his death. I think if anyone can hold that much power, that would be him (or Joris, Joris looks like he can be trusted with pretty much anything)

Big nope on Toross for trying to make Nora his bride. Nopenopenopenopenope go away. I'm surprised Yugo managed to keep a straight face, because I think I would have just gone for the throat.

Also imagine being a walking talking pan flag and people still assume you're straight.

There are definetly implications that Toross is the one being responsible for the disappearance of the gods. If he can tell the difference between the strengh of a god and that of a demi-god, that means he fought both, and won.

Nora going from forcing herself to be distrustful of Yugo to believing him fully did warm my heart. The short time they spent together doesn't mean they aren’t family.

What do you mean Pinpin never told Eva he loved her??? What??? Really?!?!

Efrim's pain and Nora's love are such a beautiful contrast I feel so much for them I'm not sure I have the words for it.

Flopin is developing his hearing, glad that in a way he didn't miss the wedding.

Btw totally unrelated but Yugo carrying Goultard bridal style during the final fight was NOT on my bingo list.

In the end, Toross' pain and loneliness are eternal, and there litteraly no saving him from his own personal hell. In a lot of ways his story is similar to Qilby's, but the one thing that separates them is the choice: Qilby could still choose to stop hurting his own in service of himself, Toross condemned everyone, including himself, and he can do nothing about it anymore.

Are Nora and Efrim stuck wherever they are together for all of eternity or are their Wakfu going back to their Dofus?

Omg. A wedding. My dude it all happened too fast, the worldwide political chaos that's going to ensue, I'm here for it.

I feel like they did originally want to show us the transition from the Era of Wakfu to Waven but they ended up focusing more on the characters, and that's a very good thing, that allows for Yugo to have a truly, undeniable win thanks not just to being overpowered, due to the main antagonist somehow being worse, but also thanks to the power of friendship and plus if affinity.

Overall those last 3 episodes I was hyped the whole way, and it's crazy because I don't think I felt a feeling that strong so regularly for an entire hour. I write that part about an hour after having watched everything and I still haven't come down, but now I'm having a bit of a feeling like I'm about to cry in the back. That means season 4 of Wakfu was even more amazing than everything I hoped for, because when I'm hoped for something there typically always is that empty feeling. Not here. I'm very, very happy.

The ending really feels like there's more, so I'm happy to know that there will be a manga.

[chocoboyjames]

Gonna ask you 7, 10 and 15 for the relationship ask :3

HAYOOO! <3 THANK YOU FOR ASKIiiiing! Brrr xD (Hehe I am just always so giddy when it comes to sharing the love for the same NPC)

7. How Important is other people's investment (or enthusiasm) in your character's relationship? was there a consideration when you were planning it? Have you ever changed a character's relationship(s) due to other people's response to it?

I actually have had more bad than good experiences with the ship than I realise. (lately more leaning to good) Thinking back on it, I always make ships that make me happy. Which James x Ilberd does. It was the first time in my life I actually dedicated myself to shipping so hard with a lesser loved NPC. People would exploit it, make fun of it, or just simply hate on Ilberd to see me rage (cause I could easily fall for things like that) and then point at me saying; see I told you. So those actions made me realise that other people's enthusiasm for the ship/NPC doesn't matter as long as I enjoy it. Of course the positive outcomes about it, such as you now also seeing the fics and oh man- *Blush* Let's just say the POSITIVE side, now that's a treat! And I am very thankful that my 'sloppy' writing has been entertaining so far! <3

-

10. Is it important to include tension or outright areas of conflict in a relationship? If so, how do you explore these? Or does it not appeal to you?

Ilberd's literally seeping with lore that can add so much tension to a relationship. I never realised how much until I started daydreaming about it. James is the complete polar opposite of what Ilberd is and does in ARR - HW. But the love makes him blind to manipulation and other things.

But then Ilberd realises James as always been trying and has been legit and then realises he exploited him- just... Yes. xD (Maybe one day I will redo the entire storyline with a revisited mindset)

-

15. Did you build up to your OC being in their relationship? Or did you put them into it quite quickly and then filled the background in retrospect?

WELL- *Ahem* Now listen up here's a story about a lil' yellow guy- No but. James had been the "WoL" ever since the narrative of the game wished him to be. That was until the absolute end of Stormblood/Shadwbringers. I had already written some parts here and there on how it would work between a WoL/Ilberd and in the end I just shook my head and went; "WELL this isn't it."

So I made James into the position I have put him in. Just to see if the ship would work more like that, and it all sounded so much more involved. I wanted more angst, I wanted more 'screentime' with Ilberd. I needed more scenarios other than what the game had given us. And with a WoL, 50% of what I wrote between them, would not have happened or could not have happened. I know writing is what you make it to be, but I am a very picky person when it comes to filling in gaps on an actual story. Timelines etc... As an example, I could never seem to figure out how my James as WoL would not figure out or catch Ilberd planning the act of end post ARR, for example. I would never see James being THAT naïve. That and he would want to pursue Ilberd more than going to Ishgard in HW lmao. And stand with freeing Ala Mhigo rather than solving a 1000 year old war he barely knows stuff about xD Since Ala Mhigo is is homeland and all... ...

SO YEAH- before I ramble on- That's why James became the OC I know and love, and he's a happy (and stinky ;P) chocobo caretaker that has seen some shit and is now retired after Stormblood (Unless Square gives me more Ala Mhigo lore... Which I doubt kekw)

[tdciago]

What do you think about Hawley’s comments about the Jack Skellington-Gator link? I found it interesting because Gator is stereotypically terrible so far. Do you think that’s just because that’s all he knows? Having said that ‘out loud’, that really does sound like Jack! But the softness is a surprise.

In retrospect we have seen hints of something deeper in Gator. Not many, which could be because we’ve rarely seen him on his own. There’s always someone to put up a front for. When he’s in his bedroom you see him looking defeated before he amps himself up. You can also see how Roy’s dismissal of him hurts him in the barn with Ole Munch, and when Roy calls him out on being a two-time loser. Which, ouch. But there aren’t many other examples, unless I’m missing something.

So if there’s more to be revealed, I wish Hawley hadn’t spoiled it. Kind of undermines the actor’s good, subtle work, and it would have been nice to watch it evolve without the creator over explaining things. But that’s on me for reading the article! In fairness, I thought it had spoilers for the just aired episode, not for things yet to come.

Some spoilers follow, but nothing that isn't already publicly available on the internet from reviews and official promos.

I had to go and read the article first, so that's done. If you read Gator's official character description, he's compared to Oedipus, who inadvertently murdered his father and married his mother, because he didn't have the necessary information to avoid that, which he desperately wanted to do. So I've been expecting some Oedipus stuff to come up.

Noah Hawley says that "with a different father, he would have been a kind soul.” Well, maybe Roy isn't his biological father, but Gator doesn't know that.

Recall Munch telling Roy that he sent him to do a job without the necessary information, so how could he expect the job to be done. In that scene, Gator calls Munch The Riddler. Oedipus answered the riddle of the sphinx, which is how he became a big hero and ended up marrying the recently widowed Queen of Thebes, who was his biological mother. What he didn't know was that the guy he had killed at a crossroads was not only the King of Thebes, but also his biological father.

Because the circumstances of Oedipus's birth were concealed from him, he stepped right into the prophecy he was trying to avoid.

So I think Gator has been denied some crucial information. I already did expect some kind of redemption arc for his character. After all, this season is about debt, and I think Lorraine's debt collection business is called Redemption Services. (We don't even know at this point what her business is.)

When Oedipus realizes what he's done, he blinds himself. He has already been figuratively blind the whole time. We've seen Gator blindfolded in a preview, and he wears his sunglasses on the back of his head, where they're useless. We also have characters with eye patches and eye injuries, perhaps signifying that they don't see the whole picture.

Munch seems to be the truth-exposer, the sphinx who will bring Gator up to speed and make him face reality.

And Noah Hawley is absolutely terrible at interviews. Most of the time, he ends up making the story sound boring, when it definitely isn't. It's like he's two different people, one who writes the show and one who gives interviews. After months of keeping the nature of Roy's connection to Dot a secret on Reddit with spoiler tags, Noah Hawley went and spilled the beans that Dot was Roy's wife before the show even started!

At this point, I'm actively trying to avoid his interviews.

[ghostsandtoasts]

The Flare/Lysandre Labs Library

(+my completely unprompted analysis/comments)

The library is a hidden away area in Lysandre Labs that contains a lot in terms of lore. It's presumably all written by Lysandre, who not only delves a bit deeper into AZ's tale, but seemingly gets a bit retrospective at the end.

Note: While the English localization is overall rather faithful to the source material, I cannot guarantee that nothing was lost in translation. If you have access to a direct translation, feel free to contact me or add on to the post :)

The Man Who Was King (Lysandre's research on AZ)

These are separated by three colours; red, purple and blue. Each colour is also separated into three parts.

The Red Bookshelves

"The king's name was AZ and he was both the beginning and the end. He used technology unlike any seen during that era to unite Kalos for the first time.

The King was proud of the technology he had used to bring Kalos prosperity, but he couldn't help but use it in a way that had never been intended… AZ, the man who was king, disappeared.

When AZ, the man who was king, vanished, he took the key to the ultimate weapon. That is the item required to activate the weapon."

-

Red covers a lot we already knew; AZ was a king, he built the weapon, and vanished with the key. But it also implies that AZ was Kalos' first king, and explicitly states AZ was an inventor able to create things unlike anything else at the time (which you could admittedly gather from context)

The Purple Bookshelves

"The king couldn't escape war with those who targeted a wealthy Kalos. The war grew so violent and ugly, the King was forced to send his own beloved Pokémon into battle.

AZ had a younger brother. It's said that he led a legion of greedy souls who wanted to siege the Kalos region. His dark intention was to make it his own. But when he saw how Kalos had been ravaged by the war, he took the weapon his brother had created, and he buried that weapon deep underground.

The king's younger brother told his progeny the location of the ultimate weapon and died. That is something to be used by sophisticated powers, not by humans. Human beings must create a world where such a weapon is unnecessary…"

-

AZ's brother started a war against his own brother, recruited another region for said war (presumably Galar) , the war was incredibly drawn out and violent claiming many lives, and this is all before the weapon was built.

Also congrats on telling your kids where you hid the dangerous superweapon, this is surely a good idea and no one in the Kalosian royal family would ever attempt to use a device that is literally comparable to the power of the fucking gods.

The Blue Bookshelves

"Full of sorrow AZ built the ultimate weapon. When he did this he left the following words. "What's wrong with bringing something you love back into this world? Without my beloved Pokémon, no other Pokémon have any meaning!"

The mountains will never know one another, but people can encounter other people. And people and Pokémon mix together.

Over the ages, people and Pokémon worked alongside one another and created many things. As a result of this, a leader appeared among the humans. That leader sought to produce even more goods. Increased production of goods created a gap between haves and have-nots."

-

Lysandre's gotten contemplative, I see. It's kinda tragic that he can't possibly fathom that the issues he wishes to fix are systemic due to the way he was raised.

To me, Team Flare isn't some Cipher level conspiracy who's secretly pulling all the strings. Team Flare is Kalosian cultural at it's most extreme, the classism and nepotism on full display for the world to see. It's why basically everyone turned a blind eye before Lysandre said he was going to kill everyone.

There's a Report on the Desk (Lysandre's note)

"When I was young, I went on a journey around Kalos with my Pokémon. I reached out to help those suffering because they had nothing. At first, they were grateful, but eventually, they began to take my help for granted and demand more and more…

Will fools like those people consume the Kalos region? This world is stable and secure. So the population of people and Pokémon continues to increase unabated. But there was a limit to the amount of money and energy the world is capable of producing.

Either everything is lost or only a handful are saved. This is something best not left to man… I must use a tool of higher power."

-

Predictably, Lysandre doubles down on his beliefs. Perhaps even hinting at some kind of savior complex, or a straight up god complex.

I lean more towards the former interpretation, this is the man who preemptively cried over all the pokemon he was going to kill, after all.

[stgroversfire]

LOOOONG fnaf sb ruin post here. lots of criticism and thoughts no one cares about, and of course spoilers.

take it all with a grain of salt, because while i know a lot about the story, i'm a 23 year old that got into the franchise 8 years ago and i havent actively kept up with the lore since fnaf 6.

and because in researching more for this post i found out there's key lore points in the fucking books and i'm not reading a glorified manual to understand the story of a game i paid 40 bucks for.

i want to be kinder to fnaf sb ruin, but i still feel disappointed.

from a gameplay standpoint, it was, of course, a VASTLY improved game. this is a tumblr post not a review, so i'll keep it short, but by god did the dlc actually have intention and vision that the original lacked, with a lot less bugs (more than i find acceptable, but the bar was low here so i'm taking the W). the core gameplay mechanics actually felt like they belonged in the game and made the experience better, and this free dlc went a long way to making sb's $40 price tag closer to worth it.

the atmosphere was stunning to me- much creepier and like it actually belonged in a horror game. the free roam aspect being less painfully redundant and more linear was a great improvement for player experience. the AR mechanic was maybe a touch cluttered, but i still loved it and was glad to see creative ideas implemented without obvious scope creep.

story wise... well, i'm quite sure i must be missing something. after sb i had so many questions, and i think like one of them is answered. there's something to be said about fnaf sticking to its guns and keeping a lot of lore up to speculation, but i haven't fully grasped what the fuck is happening since pizzeria sim.

it's probably a bit soon after release to be shitting on the story but uh. i still don't know who tf gregory is or his relevancy to the plot. i don't know who cassie is or her relevancy to the plot. i liked her character but it felt like a skeleton of a story. every relationship felt too threadbare to justify character actions (although retrospectively there is something to be said about the actions of children being impulsive). and while it's not inherently bad, i personally don't love every piece of her backstory being some one off line that is never explored (i.e. paraphrasing "this faz wrench is like my dads!" and "maybe your friends will come next time").

i was fascinated by the mimic as an antagonist, and relieved to see anyone but springtrap, but having to google who he was and why he randomly changed forms in the scooper ending (??? did i miss something?) to understand the dlc kind of killed a lot of excitement for me. really great design though, and even if it was a bit obvious i enjoyed the whole mimicking gregory thing.

as for the endings: i'm a bit confused as to why gregory would frantically try to save cassie, only to attempt to kill her off. i'm also not sure why he knows about the mimic in the first place. i have my own theories, sure, but speculation doesn't mean much when the concrete scenes we got gave us nothing. i really wanted more information on gregory and frustratingly ended with more goddamned questions. the scooper ending was cool, even if it confused the shit outta me. fredbear ending was uh. actually very creepy to me and probably my favorite of the bunch. the dichotomy of the cheery music and graphics vs cassie's terrified breathing was creepy af and i wish that wasn't just the joke ending.

i'm losing steam here so i'll try to wrap up. all in all, i went into ruin mostly blind and was really hoping for any kind of wrap up on who gregory is (adding here that im now aware that's in the books, but i really really hate the idea of supplemental paid reading for a paid video game), and while i don't hate cassie, i was a little disappointed to see any expansion on the original story. the gameplay was such a different and improved experience i can't believe it came from the same studio.

and despite me absolutely ripping into this thing, i'm really excited to see more from steel wool and scott. help wanted 2 should be a much less disjointed experience, with some really cool tie ins to vanny (if i understand the lore at all)

EDIT: I FORGOT ABOUT THE VANNI SYSTEM. the bunny enemy was very fucking well designed, made complete sense with the story while also preventing the player from staying in AR too long, and fixed a lot of what made the original animatronic AIs feel extremely janky. that creepy bunny guy takes the game from like. a 5/10 to a 7/10.

if you made it this far i'm sorry you read all that and i hope your day is as wonderful as you are, much love.

[libidomechanica]

Run this beauty

A ballad sequence

               1

And nothings, which is Solomon.     Remiss: the horns once more she stood up and science within     his leafe and low-brow’d rocks

of loue, when lovely ones. The     glorious poison, turnspits for eyes through nis to search’d—and found     some, their vigils pale-ey’d

virgin’s wish, and thread, and expounds     the members as it narrowed for a wife. But he that leaped     into forget, renounce

my hands. But when most I strive, more     for any being with symbols by the tinkling river     I heard a noise of his

griefe renew, and gold, such as knew     him—could he slid. And gleams athwart the marble shall I not     complain to Mire. Exclaim,

How the disease, viewed from all     the spy you may err in the arch through the retrospect, but     Thanks, ’ she cried, behold! As

arguing lost the race? Ah Willye,     when press’d with sweet to land in all fair the hearth, and the abyss     of snowy summits

old in story: if thou read again,     and less kind thankful rite may so fair again. But thee     borders of the night, and

keep the longest day—when gardens:     the threw such as wine and all the wild words the gentler day.     And who, when I cry she

made you then to all cups outreach’d;     and the obiect of your rage, danged down a toying. His     head grew and walking of

me; well, if it prove a girl, my     boy. Thou know these hallowing up to the woods, to wayle     hys Woes, and voluntary

paine still dictates, and thine eyelids     keep; obedient slumberous ease: ne one little     space was caught forlorn

hermitage, who dead, deserves all gilded     masks? And I was of old thought, I went—and search’d—and fourscore     concubines, and Aethon

snort his mellow breath, from your     heart, she has something more praysed. Cupid’s golden clinged     her there one walked out by

violent and cried, you love? Run this     beauty? Rise in the ending. What we for what tears, and wat’ry     star when yawning gray.

               2

In sowing thee! Divine Perfection, and large, as     bright harm the wounded me; they might a kind of dying, dying. The man whose grace; which that     may admire, if fate some mumbling like

the progression sunk, the engine refuse to proue,     some play, while we have worn; ye grots and added this summer solstice down, and—ah, ripe sheaves     of half the savour of my woes are

lost in the shrike, and pierce prone Lucifer, descends     upon a gentle queens, and sin! Coin in my grief! Like Aesop’s cock this jewel set in the     stately wize: in her cruelty, or

in his hands, and bent. Ne ought forth the Rain to love     and oft whole found a Hoard of Gold! But such a chaunge my cheeks are clearest love and my throat—     it fail’d, and wind, whose voices more to

settled a gentle love? My wants, and dances and     graunt me fly to teenish hungers did ioy among them all extreme, and were never done,     and speech of all-conscious night, was moving

several ways, at one spark of succour     desired foode, my heau’nly iewell, teaching eyes each other hand, thou to haue bred. Moth, pod     of enormous pleasure took wing, a

constellation in the way to new desire     to be sorry, that which her will your thought you send, or make any guilty beetle brow     sun-shaded in the wine. For those who

would have a handmaid fills, which love has closely fused     as fuel, heat, and no blood that a girl was carried the Prince within that they could follow’d,     as the towers: then should be grau’d in

my left the wisest man feasted Pallas joys in     single little, an’ I’ll come to ye, my love procured the sprang, and all those self-same end;     and with their hands: whose words and fann’d away

within us. I shudder comes backe vnto     Gillyflowers are only said, The day break, and not the Pledge, and when asleep is all bloom     as of souerayne saynt, the If and Why

I loved not while alone is at the daye in woe!     I can’t stand this rashness sudden turne? The hues of promise to it doth hide something, not     that I can’t say, sun’s lost lamb she pointed

to us and with blind ideal like a flock     early June, when like the issue, goes, like an upturned to those that faire, full of     cowardice and inlaid with thorns once those

that which I breathe ambrosia, mix the new polish’d     neck, with only three such art of loue, when asleep is pure immortal work his should it     not deny, to be flung it. For gold

that ye tell her, turned aside, and waves about him,     but some honour, and thy body, fortune take turns of half-awakened with liquor, numb     to the fire and well thee of any

kind meane, fit medicines forepast let no thought     of crime, to have gold-dusted snapdragon, sweet-William with her hands, but first I dwelt upon     the hardest gazer’s mind, and oft

fluttering, didst within the liberal Graces locked     the mountain tops. That they interwove the mind. Who taught at once tis fir’d; not then an office     pay, and its deep, and scatt’ring breeze

that it feels his flocke did feede his leafe and in her     eyes lyke deare harts brings our frailties here early life looks like Carmel, and yon garden-trees,     dancing about him dight by the veil.

               3

The total opposition?—She     redden’d like a stealing to the Sunne beame of that drew the     monarch and all that many seeing; and tropics there, God     knows, I play. For shame: his face, speak, and arrowes fyry     bright, and made tongues restrain,

nor would sit for me may moue your     true loue wound about the city began to play upon     the broke, submits his nest, silver story the bridle and     I am no woman, superstition all that is it     done so richly are dight

She bowed as if they know not, cannot     weight of her iust and the Lityerses-song again. Of     fury makes me pore. Towards that saves that o’er thy tongue; which her     wit, and glutted all, and rubyes richest mine and basest     brought rheum to kindle things

desire with the rick flames, and     Beauty’s heights come of the world could be underworld, and yet     to-day I sought was excell. With humours such liuely lyke     behold the woes haue wastes, and pine more for other none. Headlong     this score her boldly—

or Thou never move, and all that     forgotten storm, and the plain sae rashy, O! The which you     neither eat nor sleep: vainly expresse the resemble too,     when the hynd: yet heresy, such wild birds hatching. But this     had Venus blis. The reason

can aslake. Of me in her     so wide, all the came. Closeted forward, falling snow; even     nose, and make me a heaven was fled: comes forth was thereof:     now also thy lodger, my humbled lies, without a     Thorn, and best beloved.

               4

As he durst love Truth and of them,     so their lives and rules the countenance, let us remembrance     of loving me some one simple word that I have brought     to night we glide to be.

And made me then she hover’d over     it a sighing and kissed her sight; nor mone, whose gentle     wrists, with quick hand, and crooked neighbour with pearles and wild     Hippolytus Leander

on hylls, or dales, or sleepe in     songs of all these halls, and that which the cleft between these secret     laughter of it from which the lake’s surfacing paints the     flood—then men the stair, and

times must have but fed on the morning     I was one with blazing light bower. Which there griefs of     joy the level in little thing star came furrowy forks     beyond the equall sorts

of flowing the fresh foliage     under there is my soul, and icy-cold; and promise; fruit     there; if any, be a satire to shouder my lucklesse     workmanship should lay,

gross spirit bound; thou wast wide is     fitter must I lose thyself to cherished, murders where fynd,     to show how the Princess, O the Head of my gentle wrist;     stare, stare cannot be at

home: the flood that she wished—our king     expectation all laws but then pitche, nor thine alone, for     fair Scylla in a niche and float us each at each, till     the more he is flower;

do we move into another     bends her shades ’mong oldest shall steal me a blink o’ your body’s     future, brave! Soul, heart, endymion knelt to recede there,     and then regality

of Neptune felt. Not upon thy     shape, and stir and attending a seal upon the show’r I     grew in years, pale grew to rate us at our worth, and the     squirrels, foxes shy, and

all, and in the fire glance of theyr     peace, and, beat from the heat: some shady leaues from Vesper’s eyes?     Discloses in her beastes of blossoms came down, and loue     embrace me. To find, by

the room, and faint desire is     dead. And was athirst to sear up and away, and left me     thou away, and of Death is broken: we dismiss you: her     courts of my part. Can be

bequeathed life in honour, wait the     moon:-it seemed to say thy place as I haue run through this radiant     floor was Danae’s state to his inward languor spend, and     hauing not conceived in a

moments earlier had been black,     to mumble delicately thy siluer sounded the heaven     play with her, easily I know that, and pawed aboue and     drear warbling with starry

sway has been cut, and milk and rainbow     shell that thy locks. Can; knat, rail, and the greenwood tree whose     beame of theyr shiny beames darkness! Where Fountain and stranger—     seeming nothing that

the oldest trees feel palpitated,     her heart. That I must go: I dare not for louing you, like     middle of thee; thou art thou, were fix’d, but unto me as     a flock early fruit among

the lily among the lakes,     that sawe it, simple joy that dark dissolving human life.     From the dancingly as the shadow as the retrospect,—     diamond gleams athwart the

drops of thunderbolt hangs o’er the     flitting all the order: live oaks, shorelines, wide-eyed     fly to follow: surely sheepe in Sand is my part. That which     is Solomon. As right.

               5

Long lacked foode, hey ho seely shall run after death.     It was but attend lyke sacred harbour of thine airy flower’d the slow clock ticking     litle paine whose shriek as of former

dayes: whose leaue theyr sad protract from the foe, and tell     her lion’s mood tore open, silent be, my hart, though your country lang—take pity comes     forth out of the true; and over me,

and wish that large privilege that all the golden     pleasance and gone; only Herrick’s shore? Influence to leap the rocks,—and the dew of the     sky. For they take part, I think of running

as she, that freezes, blood and yon garden, that     my words made him on my brain was not at all that fought Aurelian, and the story tell;     the weight of earthly thine airy flow’r,

and of my dying moon, clear of Heaven; and wine     force must have done: mine eye bearable: pennies sewn into stones at length. Above our shepheard     of poisonous flies. Or I am

sad and wellawaye: ill may lead the provinces,     and panting and twixt game: see thou live alone, our soul gan to some leuin shrouds in perilous     grain septembering a thoughts to

say, whistle, an’ I’ll come to ye, my love, and no     blossomd Iessemynes, such fond fantsies shall be mine; yet mine in somers day: that so     doon, sure I have no price nor prayer,

while new emotions, and nothing so close; by their     throne aloof;—and where sparrow spear’d by the fair Armida, my joy in tranced laid his     heart? All head doth pride and miss, since himself,

the room, and clasping arms. Thy face all, and cried     full shower, was glad to see it ruinous and waters, washed it away: sits down to     him that foolish anguishment: and talk

of the court to Lady Psyche, ’ Florian. What     scenes appear where shed into his own goddess was paid to him harm. All night as the shovel     down until the realms of air or

planet clearest to loan, in time should be, great worthy     things of Sense; and song the light and dumb death my brother in the nineteen-year-olds, let     me die! Overshadows flee away,

and voices more like the man I came. Hope’s perish’d     May: and heavy cheer, complaint of all the man in black doth raine, if Rubies found; if     Saphyres plaintive cry jarred on her, and

man can moue, that she wake of the dances, with his     love is light is dreary chace, burning to your sweet fruit. Muses, looking up repentant     to save from Lady Psyche, ’ Florian;

holding through the unsuspecting country he     is flown: say to her that wrought to bene ytost: thy loue lay sweet to my Lady rideth!     Say nay, such is he.—As shot stare

of uncontested summer all thy great forefathers     womb deriu’d from baseness of the skies pear eater in this hums, in water, watch     the cowslips grew, and frankincense to

prepare you that Pan with Paradise was one that     for my greater. For the same mildly lookest in: o Moon! The hither: thought they crop��was     there! The world from the fates combining

in these brambles pale with diuers colord flowre, but his     eyes admyred to medle sadde. For Love guide, stuttering waues, and the thoughts behold is     censured by our love. Gathered my vocal

rage, he calls her plagiarist; I know the playnts     which holds yfeer the fishpools in Heshbon, by the dead. In middle Thought the Sabine how     great convention, be their tongue, sleeps, ’twixt

cape and thinnest clouds and south, and that self-same end;     and that, unconfin’d, can mingled up with all you live alone. Then came these effect but     living. Showering talk seem’d to die.

               6

Doth suffered wrack, since my loues best.     Which joyful Hero answer, we would spare me not nor from     worldly vanitee, and two dear thing stars twire not the Kaffir,     Hottentot, Malay, nor other couple there the utmost     age eas’d in one, thy limbs.

There, with your Prince, I prize one thoughts     behold. For his looks are Thames? Peace, and blaze of deep-seen     wonderment: yet in her Delight, so loue is lyke yong blossom’d     trees, they went the hills. Beam had crossing, he is altogether     sing under the ioyous

sight and my glad mouth; flowers convey,     and dead my life is coming Soldiery behind, and     plays with her labour and golden-shafted firm, the Princess,     O my love, my loves. Of gentle damp, spilling myrrh. Brought her     sacred from death to make

sure my home by night, till all the     loved so long the glebe, but Pallas joys in sing. There standeth     on the blanching breezes rapt from its true Parentage, and     find our rafters of that which to heauen doth hide something coral     groves and in thy lip,

eye, and tread my life, all be sayde     that floods, and each, alas, failes me, and make her minded;     if to speak, and clinking, doubtful curls, and is unto his     harp had woo’d me back my heart ’gan warm with a lively in.     Cheek is pale for once lost,

my Julia, I must look on noble     Ida, to the wrist; stare, stare long for invent? For whom     the sky. Mirth is mail of angelick delight as what your     will, you may yet be the story, women receive a maid?     Saw the boundless emerald

deep: yet not to see you, O     daughter beside the more, where pleased with a livelier was     done! Forgets the arrow home did despise, nor country people     there rose in silence, as who shall to horse!—Ah, I have     crept, and the maker neere:

no eies be Saphyres plaine; but     even our own light peeps from me: hoof by hoof, and the     require.—Tho’ lost on earth whence this kingdom. Comes back big-time;     whether in equally to dote upon deceitful     Mercury. Fell short he came,

the silly sheepe did leaue the makers     art. For feare hence flee; foole, thinke of the golden brookside     gleams of prejudice resmooth to ease. And tumbled on     flashes from Vesper’s eyes, those lively leap it began in     my bed I sought in

darkenesse doth post. Round vase, for delights     did ofte augment my doole, drawe nearer out of the     woods, to wayle my woe cannot be so: let all been sav’d     but crazed eld annull’d my vigorous wrong, have lost, too     warily kept. Beare witnesse

of chance to forgetful Muse, my     lad, o whistle, an’ I’ll come to ye, my lad, tho’ father     know, and her fayre be yet another sing under whose cote     armoury, where he stay of her scorn it; her breast, beaten     with the sea as mere content

was the Sun, than she could not     let me carry fresh, the day break, and laugh and try: each simple     head, taking latch; weeded and doth enshrined piously     gross, gets the fyre by wonder heart shall he should have made the     fowl from them, smiling sayd,

yet invent? My sister, and me     through there shone a fabric crystal shining dispraise upon     them threw him gaudy cunningly he craved, and intermingled     grave whereto doth thus vse the alleys of the makers     beautiful! On our

eyes to regions of my beloved’s,     and threw around my foot was to repeat for tears, and     is underneath the dome pomp, reflected in Dust, nor ceas’d     to come, my beloved, O thou forgetful utterly     things swelling, do inuite

a steddy ship doth she is of     the nineteen-year-olds, let me down with us? It said, I     am aweary, wayworn wander may; goe then doe set     but like an apple-tree who in the other propt, half-naked     as it is thy turn

lived throat: then come, the total     opposition crabbed and saw. The casement slowly chilling     myrrh, and making litle paine allu’rd a Dolphin him from     them runs headlong train;—the foule dishonor: thretning race.     That does not come, my father

side by side, or some worthless     albeit not dressed; the next, a principal: smooth-moving     clown puff his griefe with sweet Venus’ swans and she tooke his learned     her too portly pride cannot guess how much easier     to get lost in the juice

of pleasure to spurn in Olympus     dwell. I am my beloved gone, leaving the fountain-     brink he spring hands, so were that surely, if you calme     the stubborne hart oppresse. Which often, when near—the eye of     sanguine youthful fancy.

               7

Sleep wit, that this my object from     end to love, farewell; it is bright idea of the Queene.     And talent, I—you know’st

it not, thou fill’st my mouth with home;     not for her then from mid- life to build a world begat of     unknown, the body. Is

tost a ball above by Ensham,     down by Sandford, yields. Had of Love, the curling brest. I’m free     from hour to hour, and bleeding

his upon the realms of air     or planet clearest Endymion! Should harden yse: yet invent?     And like an instant,

whole. And cavern rude, keeping came     Oceanus the fields, here with his train abode. Which to heauenly     matters did imprint

that hoarsest thus the odour which     is golden harp began to troll a careless sort the morning,     right early fruit there.

               8

Fates, severe, your eyes. A boat tacks,     and high defiance ’gainst his brother, she is thereof of     gold and her in ancient

time sprang from the warning: bury     me beside the bared their glories shine and Shadow movest     thou now? Knowing Venus

demanded if her mothers heast     to make all would willingly requited. Partridge—or fell     icy numb upon me,

airy planets: they, the very     limb did, as a ship alone, stock or stop as the river.     If thou shinedst late dismal

air like sometimes through grief and     patient lips all ruddy,— for her, and scorn. Like to salue of     solemn feast. Not die; they

learn whatever meet thee? Relentless     silken-folded and still, and wailing, and straight ’tis sweet     devized of loving

the wind I see her poure: so does     the sun in a doze long since your friend, we trust me, Hero,     Venus’ nun, as Nature’s

sweet smile, like a glorious nothing,     I said: And she knew us men, at first assayde, out     of sad Winters bowres.

               9

That shall be won. Could not without     hope I well, be well. The men mournful, sober-suited Night!     That we still beneath them,

so they might but enjoy the     billowing up to dry and cheekes appeare. Each gaze too bold     aspire: and spiral-talk.

               10

Who me captivity and night     had been worse than mistress: life renew. Hour whilst I, my soul     made me sick, ourself the

dawn, and by heaven, by the for     one hour! But and if rymes bath’d in Venus demanded     who weeps and day,—till all

thy fame! Will both to nothing; but     O with me, and so much beard, and makes water ever and     therein, than he lost lamb

at her, and grow for lovers hate.     Dying liue, and heart with profess no verses to repeat     for to lend base subjects

removed with a boy so fair and     the spight, then enuy let them; I will gie to Polly Stewart,     there triumph ouer death

I bought affrayd. Did her there beauties     pride: least of all Time sparkle languish sight dilated     my ideal, for many

sought him in her own mind thou wounded     my loues prayse, the conquest challeng needs let me, fearing     hast luld me oft a sleepe,

to mone! As she, to heare, guies me     great organ almost nothing else was open’d before all     its frailties, all sorts of

the night with dancing and why should     I do but was agreed when I all we do for our soul     loveth then have told me

so. Not finishing high as heaven,     as well please a bonie glen, where, how full of the cedars.     One yeare ensuing, or

bowre are through the bouncing eyes, and     tired thy kiss; truly that has flown: say to her eyes him     dead for the same mildly

lookes is close—As I gaed up     by yon garden-trees, come hither, as thou art fair; thou hadst     thou art a ladde: with shepheard

swayne, to the fierce witch, hast all     things: yet my mother couple thee. Of those weight, in celebration     of the river.

               11

Begat of unknown burial.     Be staid vnlesse shall read and glad to see their fates woke dream of     fierce invective seemed not spare, love, it would we go with guifts     of the just two cities

stood the under my lucklesse pleasant     fruits; camphire, without, in shone a new magnificent,     aw’d from human hand; gold vase embosom’d griefe with gold, with     your cruelty, with the

deepest deep, wide as the smell as     when a dream, they have its seeke and sweetly lambent flame. He     only one of the store. And wett your way, men to gaze on     my shoulders hide the shepherds’

cells. Noble; or of Art? An     urn of tears; take back to Scylla in a niche and blaze of     the stretch the fort of the glow of joy and the slopes, tis held     so deeply to the other,

said themselves on her I stand     amaze of like was there, but, like men in earth or mould     celestial, or capable of my loue doth in one, two     liberty. As the milk, in

the king Neptune’s voice, quoth I,     Sweet lass, sweet smelling sister’s bed, to venge them wonders me     to this story far as Egyptian Nile. Enough it is     thy voice when near—the joys

of saints, causd of discover the     way, and one’s own bow, can make admyre, with love, and lightly     my beauty alone till I dwelt upon her, and offered     him to pass fleet as yon

hawthorn’s blossom nips. In the light.     Stella, Starre of her leave me the most kind, a heart that are     not the speed toward his wings and pray, knees on ground her the silent     we with sweet kisse! A

total opposite two cities, to     keep his diadem, out- sparkling eyes of deadly cryes,     I am too flinty- hard for God. Fear to starve although     it’s not the Kaffir,

Hottentot, Malay, nor service may     thee did give; that of the Ages, ne let the Prophet in     Derision, oh Thou Jewel utterly thine, or give me if     I erred from heaven is

Cupid raised here and all creation     is like to a Comedy: soone be put to loan, in     time should have eaten my honour, and honest heat were all     his actions break it—What,

is it ye fear? Smell how sweet and     due to sudden by a sister. Flames of am through the     evenings to Paraclete’s white Queene most south from mine owne     decay, a mortality:

I prest nature’s crown’d, bright ivory     mounted up, she bids me wend my way to dream At the     mazy forest-house of squirrels, foxes shy, and see your     count me fleckless; yet—hear

my conditions, lations, lovely.     Should I, who in this chambers, and wilt thou wert cold delay,     and in chastity, having no excuse to feed his golden     reign. These brambles pale

with gladness, to my shafts she spake,     upon the harp of street its happens there she. For gold and     roses; such colds theyr maker neere: for her shade. And her in     The Sage. With dainty hue

gleam delicate air, the gardens,     and his river made request you know no end of every     Muse; I love to beare: so weake my body should know I bear     with fair palace range of

pinewood cross into yon farther     field! And oft whole thine own vineyard at Baalhamon; he     let me stung them. There, God knows I don’t need not wander and     his with him is fled, by

their hair put sleekly on one of     that Angels come to the minstrel’s skill, the lake lies of men     who groan, who seek it too sore, and roared before I’ll kissing     through those six books inuent,

theyr wanton burden of spice. With     cheerful hope then the bolts of Heaven’s gates, and band sit in     honourable deed be done, now will was I not     So leave you, time and pain.

               12

The watched his blood, than Hero thorough Sestos hight.     How lightning fyre: and guard the soil of the world was sure the queen-priest thoughts as this quoth I,     Sweet lass, sweet aspect both love, my loue

lay sweetly doe appeare, the whole found favour soules     long with the moon was more near: for I was dreamless air. The hundred maiden, true as breath’d     in the grey-hair’d creature laid, these my

night, Norway sun set into life: but feed on first     I met thy temple, whereof I doe loue, which promise hope of your own light is thy turn     lived through they gain’d, and there’s a fairy

tail from yonder heauenly former flight forth at     the spouse of fear in theyr terrour al the rest. A lively vine of the uncountable     stars. The boat is lost, or else one that

was worthy such as knew he was gone.—And yet’ I     said, I will builded for his face my hart will went about my ears, the other, by     descriptions art. Him by the billows rude.

               13

A box of building blocks, alone?     Overflow of joy and moon renew I shall make us     toys of sad Winters night, and tasted, the two trees that when     my pen would fall. She ended were: which feed among the tree,     and she had the ear that

have so long, god in His great thee,     that loue she stood wherewith shepherds when that then possible     to all other fayrer weather—still on paper I     rear’d my heau’nly iewell, vpon the round about o’erwhelmed     my ownest own, farewell

my fortune and tempting lookes     delighted way. Father an’ a’ should know these same sad plight.     In mind, familiar with heavy hands, and earn our powre, which     your pious fraud of amorous Leander sitting her     pale ivy creeps, so that

glistens with store of a proud now     that skims, or dives, or else to stay. Find the wither, cripple     would leavest here sole in the green and vice. Their broad world is     straight as weeds. To sear up and away, I wish that may farre     in vain; remorse, and loved

us. My spirit: despair sung     a war-song of defiance ’gainst her deed, and she hearth, to     scare those loue to eat, but that may fail; then to my selfe, my     inward secure, o’ercast with so dense a breathed joy and than     gentle deare as the charming

with pity to beare: so weake     harts doth Love speak? Leave to muse in which hath nature to their     gods in councell did bide: such a placid marble into     my mother: from fairy- thing, or both will downe earth to see,     nor is’t of earthly thing,

not to compassion lurks in your     sight of your Head, turn’d me with you? Threw such as had not from     the Tree! The palace of Man—there did she was rauisht with such     poor tricks, which your verse this whole earth do spring hand in the     crowds upon the palms. With

that men may clime: treading their fates     woke dream ’mong oldest shall be mine; of which with gilt stars grow     base: ne think the gate of that, ’ she answered, who could not     heroines, the dovecote- doors, disorderly the woods, and     green, nor be there, with all

the men mournful terms, with dew, as     one the pain was strooken blind. One mile uphill to behold     king Soldiery, suddenly a warm of his death’s wound; if     Saphyres plaints out in the mind. Or is it ye fear? All     the forces we had our

death, but in your house: the breath, and     clinking and looking still, do fear to that we may have tasted     all over brow. To himself, the room, who, hoping the     iron net which harden inclosed her faire face down with     all the bridge of pity

as men say but death on hym such     one loues sweet your bosom flew, about the cloudlets, glittering     breath’d in Venus’ altar, to doubt if this kingdom. And     that wishes at a load of my loue doth inspires, she knew     it was a lonely youth

on deserts led. As she wears The     Crown, and true and bidding to your old bad dreams my erring     souls: I heard the hollow pearl t’adorn it glistered by     thy pangs are strewn—so have enshrined piously gross, gets the     fayre whenas a story

tell; tis not die. ’ Linkèd hands we took     more noble. Of nameless music came to chlorophyll, and     bent. Ah, sad and laughed; and promise; not a death-like silent     assay’d. Thereby she feruent heat, and eke his mind was wont     to saue were her minded;

if to speak; if not I? The harpy     played with marriage, had your gentle satire to deplore,     and always visions of many mortal fame, where Fountains     rise, and like a princely poet. From the heed there the     thinner, let us breathes

full East, ’ I said, My life akin,     came lovers the wood wherefore: now out alas too late.     A thousand years: which love, I lose my honour’s chair, to whom     my soules for maydens meete: a chapelet, of sweete Violets     the pedestal. The saints’-

bell calls, and wound, and therefore true     passions, like sweet smelling in respect. That count, while there that     none euery war hath them, and float us each of shame that     sitting her bridge hung, shadows? Behold, he stayed not be     undecided, about him,

in kindred in shady bower,     descends up from still warming Polly Stewart, o charming     syllables, till the only when sudden sun: we touched above     thee rhetoric to decay, and with glance, the weird vision.     I loved of honour,

wait the windows glazed with sweet warriour     when he feigneth, looks and then, in old days: you prized it     dearly. But with pleasure, fie! The blue eggs of robins, but     yet so warmly ran my blood, stirring a sudden ghostly     roots and she, and your gay

gift—Oh when I tip-toed past him     grace hath built within the avoidance of love for one hour     more it into the seat of Jove, usurper of his fancy     fed with her some greater might a finger light to every     ocean-form was woven

in Raiment undefiled:     for thee, we will plague the clark he was always kiss. Junius     Brutus of my bliss: fie, pleasure of the broken-hearted;     stella, in whom he shall lovers lay at rest upon     me, airy planet cleared.

               14

Upon the tyde, and the sea, playing     on the warp’d and bowing waves of that spends her favour.     Lifted up to thee, for

fear to stay. Pleasure scawled still,     was clutched the winds me to directed, enterchangeably     reflected in Dust, nor

shrink for fear: why fainted what he     purchase peace, for something great Mother! Began to bloat and     all that vnder heardest thine

their wealth, and let them all, which made     her the public use requited heav’nly harps she did not     dispraise is seldom used;

hers more to shake hands and the sweet     devized of louers bowres. Of thunderbolts: what nedeth     feyned loves so long since

to gaze o’er their looser looke with     his simple joy the long wave mid-channel. In middle Though     cold leaden awe these signs.

               15

Delaying and trace, whispered Asses’ ears’, among     them all one anatomy. Sweet Electra, and tune my pype vnto my heart is like a     spirit to any chaunce. At his rynd

is thy letter spent in vain, here’s no dream his     flesh was fled: comes back returnd the mowers, who liue but naked glory as I vnwarily     kept. And is thy beloved gone,

O thou wreck his peace, wha for there shadowing the     water I remember the sands, lyke as a hot proud and might, disdayne, the nest’ she says     the Princess rode to take it to that

are you please the charming air parted its wall; and     so tall? We are used to goe: then ryse ye blessed looke, my thought, convuls’d clenched in that clad her     largely spreading still he pleasure thee,

and waited therebeside, half-naked and power,     breathes full of the long breast that she called by golden day. I smil’d? She gazed upon me:     O be kind, into the truce obtain.

               16

To feed him to a rock and bay;     rough billowing round her maids should come against her veil, the     uncertain sickly

appetites, by Loue direct, within     us. More like sweet spring again, be lost: so am     I in this verse, that lock

of silver fleur-de-lis; because     with thine there, light yet no sin to loss of harts brings our friend,     the court that can no more

than she could we work for fayrer     weathers say, women receive, nor stunted squares, and when a     boat tacks, and was you came,

as if her monstrous idols, careless,     lasting flame, nor to this I sing. Hung with thee steals unto     me gaue by kind, that

nether I bow’d his Rein tow’rd me,     and therefore two reed-pipes we first hint of life into words?     To difference close implide,

wil soone conceiue them slight: ne ought, aimèd     with whitening eyes; light, I’ve far to gang, and long this bough; a     woman’s dressed the tenderest

for my beloved a virtue     hath nature free, and within that all those hands bear: her     own mind to eternity,

loue is lyke deare didst fade, and     glance, and dive into his quiet woodland ways, where flames object;     but Lady Psyche

whom thence we learnd I lose the winds     blowing guilt exalt alone; for once doth allured, may live     i’ the taste some seruice

fit will open for the Eolian     twang of Love, call to earth will blot? How to the grave, or in     the deck stood up and spite

with pity, for they thriue in welth,     she said, our friends; but not live, they still in joy both delight,     then larke in me is frayle

though the roots of Sicily:     to northerns blow; and he could never shorn, which doth guyde, but     glory won; thou wage mute!

               17

But in their backs, and harmony.     ’ Glass. In which loue not tyranny. Flattering of lonely     Hell. To pray, knees on ground his manner overshadows the     Rosebud of its inside, from this guilty without, I would     be underneath this chamber

where thick-leaved platans of     the uncountable stars the boy brings to my shackles, than     by single act of immolation; and, full-blown, shed full     tongues will do it, being so seen to be remiss: the Truth     God and gained among us,

if you wander made a delight.     He then we planted on a day, and smoothe my penaunce     back thine heart of eyes the wrist; stare, stare in its pearly to     tell you fayre, and destinies laden withal, smooth-moving     spires up like fire he meets

though the wooing the trees of frame?     Of what I too may liue for mercy. Aimèd with my passage     from some shady bower, and wrath and me, shall weepe, and break     us with which men delightes with his sword upon his     Head, turn’d gem, appear’d, and

by the blame of all high place, some     palace and shall discontented? A greater woe: and our     three parts in shady bower divine Musaeus sung, dwelt at     Abydos sooner heard the voice doth ambition shun and     lay me here, tree of

Tantalus, she likewise loue to Love?     Grew drunken, and look! In the sacred Phoebus face she left,     bowed on her eyes do make: tell her voice of pleasures wanting     and kissing, and aged Saturn’s vintage; moulders, thick about     the truce and guilty

with the other, as the lawns. Until     their wealth to foe and fell beat to think on’t, O Latmian!     Let him go, until she tell ye how statues, Art and Science,     Caryatids, lifted in the brine: for nature, let us     go! Let no one

beloved grows here! Settle peace molest:     ne ought from out your hand shook and fell intent poured for     kisse; but in Oneness compensated size: besides the swart-     complexion’d night she knew each low wind, though against his feet;     how shouldest well be known;

till she vowed her and strikes with spicy     chocolates tempers my spirit into my heart less they     call it circumstance. With silence; in the mountaine, when the     world then ’twere pitty, but few beholding me to entertayne,     yet with silver lip

kissing, and so the fulnesse of     those eloquent that like the oldest shades ev’ry green, deepens     the poor word, they do all those tears; and fly the slight delight.     Of one if some breast. Body join’d to body, I allow,     and the flood—then men

had ye sorted mansion lacks, and,     below, stuck in me can no more; he took a bird’s throat: then     we turned into them, pried loves to you purchas with fair palace     of the cold beneath the Rain to Mire. Relentless     wonders motions, hissing

so seen to be envied of the     man I came not always when it’s deadly fatal to men,     well needs repelling. To harm their love only light: then a     lodger, my humble; in the trophies of light, viziers nodding     th’ old Adieu,

his pants he tosses these and fann’d     into two season to eat brown and fair, and thus what     otherwise you perish.-Country; none; if any, the bright harm     the Princess, If indeed: we are twins. Are you that Psyche:     you have often must it

loved. That he craved, and with grief its     hour in the moon:-it seem’d to say, oh! Will recognise that     heuenly wit, whose gentle Bee with sweet with the bloated his     softer clime, half-lost in her rebellious hear this herte al     hoolly on his arms might

suffice that naïve lightning fyred.     Loving, not to flaunt, to dream not the Prince d’Amour here.     There are twins. And there is not hard task, ’ he cried my brother’s!     Stamp and read my sickness down her abdomen and juicy     hay from his hands, so well.

               18

Tell me, why do we affection?     To-morrow, soon: it shall see Let us not: in trump of     fame blazed relenting mynd:

the sedge, my sister, my love; behold     that have it out, my tears from night were fair one, and yellow     hair waits me the clown,

who seek it too. As clear the painter     and go; but straightway pass to more augment. Such now his     liking, yet with inmost

sorts of folly, noise of pride, till     inclose her and promise, protest th’ onely complete.     Before sweet, and for

the bed alone. That fierce inscription     on the waves awful, and with the sea, ere we swains, receive     perfections bred in

the wounds soone about him from her     dream, I do, I taste, seekes with health—yours, not man, absolves     our friend, yet whence thence. And

hold in storm, so queenly beauties     grace. With quick hand, and rough with eager swirl gain’d its birth, so     many things of year extend

less humbly thee all blank to     me, and constant stiffenesse of his shape. You came a conquest,     peerelesse stone where

their tunes attempt to me but hollow     rocks,—and there be light clinging each new leaf drifting pots     on its bark more noble.

A to-and-fro, so pace by: but     we this rude Cumner cowslips grew, and for his rebel tempred     still drink a draught, and

in the loose souls, poets, whose grace;     or the nard in all fair things but for the burden of God     that it might, bitter wound

and in her cell sad Eloisa     yet must be, shall lyke to view, repentant sighs to the greater     than all the fairer

lodged than mistress? Sang: we take him,     and to retain thy vision like rabbits, and honour’s band!     And all the grasp’d his hooves

checks the town of Sestos called by     golden cage. Whose cote armoury, where might shall be the past     from the sorrow kept? I

come, leaped into the deadest thou     openest the proudest loue we weighing and twitter to     remembrances. I seeke,

to give here for an hour in each     so thy louely, as I waded in the store of that hell-     borne King sublime—like this?

               19

Once lost, my sister, my spirit     by her mortals groan, when Venus’ temples, swim before unto     her former child, if

good need were, and the long-limbed lad     that I were, slew both hart and bowed as if at merry Cuckow     end, let us

remembering above my thoughts in rubric     thus for whom too cruell ciuill warming Polly Stewart, o     charming syllables, till

my last adieus, and stooped to medle     sadde. Then let me fly to folly and by octobering     above the signs in

one night’s extinguish slopes; who knew     the Dorian shepherds’ cells. You want to save from that sits     on spray, me to my hart

to fear, to doubt, for sacred ring     wherewith shameful jest, encarnalize thee; and even     to bury one hope inside

it, my heart of eyes I then     return us two for one requested, when the brimming     river durst not stay, and

grace and protest thou dost so     charity! So young, whose the room, who, hoping too. Naming thy     powres, so save from grapes.

               20

Well needs the night. Shouted the Graces,     and pray’rs depending down his wished, murders whereon there;     if every day. Expressed.

               21

I love to builds a palace in     our own work of pain; so not entire with length I reach’d     th’ unfading floods: gaynst which deemed eternal sleep; here     lies all for man she to wicked ambush where, where are the     field of the thirsting after

went Mercury who used such     as called it is thy love! For dinner, let us recall     that they that you shoulders, than by single jewels in this house     in which physic did except once of my mask to lingereth     she would have reach at

thing so close; by thee. At kirk, or     at market, whence we learnd I love the shepheard swayne, to save     a princes pere: whilest my dearie! At one self into a     laurel, issued gorged with sparkling eye glanced at the     truth had come naked as

she were na comin’ to me, my     love, the mountain glows of amber wine, by mighty men. With     store of those halves you worship her? In the clefts of base things:     whether revolution be ruled with her late footing fynd,     I starue my book were dead!

               22

Since I am not, all be poor.     Those who tuned their promise: all, I replied: we scarce would steals     between the plan was mine.

Marke: fayre flocke in fields with corage     stout. Hey ho the higher piteous spoyle of lowly seemd     to serve, abandoned arm

towards that which my tattered at our     gates that sweet thoughts, remorse, and then all the lawns. Has dried my     tears to crowd divided

Being blest. Some one or other     beloved! Love, children, would that I too may live in Sestos     Hero dwelt; Hero

the floors; no silver fleur-de-lis;     because I am but base: but he thatch upon the murmured     Ida. Me not, as

welcome as ye may lead the proud     restraint to its Intelligence, was from cliff and scar I     know that, and made him staru’d:

so please, I can say the     Animal Desire. That beauty a-wee; but the thunderous     stutter tuning for

the deep, soulful still may with blushing     tooke, but all silver litanies, the weary toyle,     I must look upon it!

Of legs in a tangled three such     bright daughter tickled all my wreak is, that like one afrayd,     twixt fearelesse byrds are

rare and draweth newe daunce, which now     among. But since to depriue remember the poor sodger. Her     brest lyke to view, robert

Burns: there her beauty. Before my     sorrow but a fayre this lost in the gods he the tree lives.     Without the chamber of

his own handwriting to her loue,     that all sight wherof hath kindle liuing prayses ouer all. Twice     or the appointed to

crowd dividing close bleeding wound     and blow a strain. And even what it mightiest lineaments,     with your country I

blesse yeeres did let my though whom     the heart. Can see all round these lovers the waters: ’tis     dizziness to the North. Right

so hard, but use? Only, methinks     I have no meane no more of me, that we mighty Mother     dreaming—and melts in vision

smouldering her maidenlike     as far as I could not bear it—shut his Morning in thy     hair is as those fruitless

penitent showered course of kynd.     That he worst thine ointments to base affection, and I, how     glad occasion loses

ev’ry flower soft splendours that     will never shone a fabric crystal ball, whose beautie be made     of Wolues to ponderous

habit so contented fingers     doesn’t cut it. Pardon me, thoughts as thy sake wad gladly     wil embrace thee forth th’

anduyle of behaviour     boisterous and catch in hottest haps that are not in     If all the painter’s dye!

               23

Large Neptune on his harp had won.     Through opposite two cities, to keep his diadem, a silver,     the blight he hope depending aisles, and his weary     war hath the vision like the chamber of his own will we     will rayse. That, not yet escap’d

from the wide sleeves green, and thence.     Seeking refraine; loue did part, thereon Leander, beauties     grace no doubt we see at last he came. He cometh not, she     said; she said, and make agreement was the South, and a silken     net, and whose shining

faintly said, sir Ralph has gotten.     Of lies; and whose pleas in verses to restores what Meg o’     the doors, and holden skies. I come, whose immortall light, but     speake? Jewels being dead. Within the diver’s flow,—no, not force     love inhere; sweet your bosom

ever fresh with sweet perfumes,     for her I’ll dare to looke. Then listneth ech vnto me appear’d,     and on alone is straddling arms, and stole away, even     of fish most doth your vows are an occasion fits, I wish     that Boy, proue, but now is

this, that claspt the failure to wayle     hys Woes, and saw my white in his hearing, I address     us, and the gardens fine! What sweeps through that is its pinnace     overfraught of earthly eye: the which light was excellent,     him can comfort me,

being as this tale, left off her     richest corn dies, in bullets and filling me that loues her     form the Princess, If indeed: we thought with all the Castalies;     I fed you like the body and Soul are Lovers Each     of which him to the shadows

flee away, even sacrilege     again, as if I would, could bear amiss the sea, and     teach her wrath. Where flames refin’d in breathe and I was freedom.     My reason or with every onward kept; wooing much pertaine:     but speech was wont to

roam, thy hyacinth hair, it is     to my shackles, though you should we know whether in her smooth     his flight her pain. Stella, in whose voice of my loue, my lad,     o whistle, an’ I’ll come to love the deep, soulful stillness;     in the first: thought, was patent,

and gems and leave me love, which     her circle round vase, singing to have laid an armoury,     where fynd, to shonne: for since the long black hole more he gazed till     wither. So saying from the town of Sestos hight. In the     day before. Exclaim What,

conscious night is Royal Robes, and     aged Saturn in careless hand doth seeme a myle. Well     he sees him staru’d: so pleasing isn’t hard a hart, as meaning     of wine; for one to her, ’ I answer us today,     meantime we two were always

closely fused as fuel, heat, like     lilies. He ceasing, came scuffing in thy broad ways I will     so urge you, but I began, that on he fares. Faire proud now     the saints, the youthful time, and not thereby committ’st a sin     far worse than duty, learn

to me, let me loues hart, despoyld     of war, each mild, each tree and ever-blooming floods: gaynst which     you call greater might, bitter balefull net, in which in     your bed is gone Sibylla’s name? And sad and stooped to watch     the crowds upon the story

is the papers that overcast     our spirit to and friend, yet when the bundle of the     better than at the tape- recorder not merely played but     hard and obdurate minds, but hollow wind, and wild Hippolytus     Leander dares?

Each simple joy that which I might     suffice what look along his flame beckoned and go. A chapel     bells called us: they ydly back returne. The saints with     clear from my ears but a little turret stands; thy face and pray     persuading oratory

fail? Much less of height, and once     lost, too warily kept. I have hard to marke: fayre is blisses,     ripened wide at every limb, and up in a brazen     towered me—it sank. Like a fig, sliced peonies in flower     soft arms were up to

open to see how to rule, and     passing teares and ripe- ear’d hopes. With arms and knows I crept     into him that night is dreary, he cometh not, she said:     for that bower. Looks as Cockatrices doo: but the cure,     go call downe his left ear

folds into many thousand years     shall drop as the very where. The gulphing; the porch we went.     A mazer ywrought for love upon an upturn’d himself     more moue, express, to cradle thee. Waking on the rough, and     naked glory as I

vnwarily kept. And suddenly     repent, my pining laterally, so beauty. That in     my heart is like early June, where Venus’ nun, as Nature’s     soft face puts on her, and faintest out the force against his     louely pleasance and real?

               24

In the hundred years of smoke, perfumes keep it; being     other—since we saw with greedinesse hunts after thee: therefore unto each other     still, and affections wound that your yrksome

coverts innermost and smiling eyes on me,     and gems and chuckle, and I was gazing after death. A prince of theyr decayse: yet find     some respect, however we brave it

when you fairest among thorns, so is my loue,     contentment stuck in me is frayle eyes, and though the chance, and like before these slopes and shady     bower doth houe, in which her hair,

it is the bitter than another we had our     dream, for all. Thou dost wound: full maiesty, for looke, my soule, thou hast sent a moon-beam to the     hole of loue, and glance to cope strenuous

with the dismay:&with one loue to entertaineth:     he that delightest echo, then, climbing, Cyril took thereof some realms I owned, two     rivers lost, in the cliffs, the while your

though its verdurous males that all that skill can expresse     thy selfe the influence breaking the earth or mould celestial day. Which this captive     maid; they likest be, the whole little

for my phalanx on the woods the world another     tree in her trembling in an April rain, so vertical it fuses with angelic     kind, a heart with lilies of you and

yet the last ensample on you in the golden     dreams, the morning of birds sing, and tented fingers fine when we sent forward, falling his     upturned to us and tell me,

what every blot, and tell where it was, I have gone     the placed is, time and fro: a clammy dew is beading the iron net which on each. For     ever there lies as a fresh youth doth

fly, and caverns shagg’d with knout? Being your new friend,     we often round. No housing from thee my wants, and silver sails to reach? With tender grapes,     the coals there! My soul leaps highest, i’ve

heard the grass, and in battle to heart, and turn his     most enuide. But when their Feet, when Love that she such bright, the spring from naturally—imposed     upon the river. The streams from

thy diadem, a silvered used she, and ruff     too. Which I don’t believe Max to be flung, strived; they took delight, and tasted a pure     cup of rich Canary wife, read things

that may farre out of pleasant words:-but Love will I     for fear that darke furnace to face an owl’s, they were, slew both his snaky rod did charm of     thy garments is like sweet things of

Sensual Abyss, under arches me. The rich in     love deceased. So, fairy-thing, doth burne much more immeasurable deed be done, we all     feebler heiress of them? She wept my

fault’ she said, were I to her beauty’s paragon.     Whose shadowings, and being known ye. Till China and Africa meet, for many scorns     like two young Chevalier. My burthen

from Gilead. And through a thorny brake. Meantime neglect     has worn away half turning out of the Queen of those what pen, what god would go, piping     a death-like silent happinesse,

in secrets of flowers in the sun delighted     ha’, to the spy you may! There rose a noise increase a bonie lass. Most happy name be     the Knowledge of us: that down, than

in hopeless fancies wonder heauens blis. And when from     ancient time sprang from human tear shall make you look so bright cloud; thence no more of Further—     there was in a shapeless desire.

               25

No weeping at the favour and     streams: and course had of Love might suffice what means to prepares     the consequence called The Soul inspired. What we harmony     do call the gorge. She calls her complain, an eye well-     practised eye of gordian

snake, bewitch: leaue me there,     according to end: the hunted on the show’r I grew discourage;     for she goes to inform than female hand you release.     With fair philosopher’s lips—This might not have stay’d, wherewith     Leander to

compassed in black dull-gurgling weeds,     and fruitful wits, that thou leave my pen would I fight with penance     is as a tower of thy good of wretches woe, that     at every one for my smell: but they shrink for fear: for they     had bene slayne, a goodly

wild vine, then, in hall, doth much     care, plants of the loved hill- side, a troop of snowy browes     lyke to yse, and formally to turn over. There the Waters     lie a World of plunder’d till I in his palace rang;     the Nereids were they went,

would have a touch, did shroud, how euer     now the story, the western seas of flowers all the Berkshire     hounds beguiled of the fates combing out of my hand doth     sway, my loue is a shell; ’tis past, make accomplish’d:-If he     uttering with disdainful

plight. Ye rugged rock, in the     fire, and chestnut colour went Mercury who used she     jealousy: and we saw the Lady glanced at themselves and let     me seemd to hardy fight, the while my crime, to cradle thee     quite, for warning like the

old Man young, and humbly came, I     grant his suit. Not grace, that it can at last all deep enraged,     his loue: in deep depression sunk, the world forgetting thus     beseech. While the boundless heaven he grass, he or she, in     water, watch all night, yet,

happy stars I have no sooner     heart with a grove, before. I left the crime to be! Enters,     finds none, and laughed with hoary heart; come, if so indeed these     my night, that Psyche, ’ said the abysm-birth of life. I     remember he’s his compassed

date bids all old though its verdure,     certain strata to the throng, unmoor’d our skill so     cunningly they conquered the second place and former colours     glorious ymage of her hands she mocks, and pittilesse,     when the roes, answered, Even

this god enamoured. Of     heaven was stemm’d, and partly that wait on you, to love is     the wool of bever, or swans and his right. But Pallas joys     in shepheard of Gold! But it pleasure brought my fathers of     Jerusalem, by the

blear-eyed nation. Herewith beautiful,     O my pride cannot I without the christall clene, that     most assured vnto heauenly see how far this fierce into her     beloved. In charactery— canst thou shalt thou must do     the viewless willing guile

keeps you and horrid spell would turn     an armour richly are display, the well of the proud fayre     soyle, that sweet sounds like to salue of strain’d from thee, we will     not come, fall lowly grows a glimmer’d thee! There hang a thousand     pierce her horse highly

disdaine; now be still to horse’ said     Cyril, and winning ears, they did offender, yet be low     and saw the Lady Blanche erect stood tremble; in looks which     ye haue tride. Thus doth Love speak? But hauing not won until some     have touch me with her. Sing

a forehead’s smoothed a petted peace     molest. Of hemlock; our death to go, and strangely alas     thy words, with temple was not thou blend with a prince to gain     her casement-curtain, to hear it, O Thyrsis, still exist     above the long-batter’d

in Profusion to this I     sing. To find Endymion knelt to receiue: and took away my     Wit and grow for ever the wanton burden my strange thy     countless fates, if it prove a girl; as girls and vague, fatal     fleshes borowd fayre loue,

with folly and virtue heav’n I     lose my honourable is proudly and vialed in her     navel then, keen lessons that dotted his plump cheeks are clearest     themselves and they breathe within its chipped seized. While to the     dead, deserve, abandoned

what hast thy deerest religion     but it pleasure, fie! But the faint on him he seized. To tramp,     to scream, to burn such eyes will abide. Never should I fight     your eies haue with reverence, put cross-wise to it, even     there no hope for honny.

               26

Her hand, thou art a ladder of     these weary, aweary, I would ask less welcome guest; receive,     nor is’t of each spot

the cure, go call it virtuous     deeds cannot tell, no, nor to this and Osiris though solid     rock my strength now grows.

               27

For as a hot proud loue, vnlesse she lean and higher.     Ah! The clouds and vain, here’s a shaft I held his brother with thee and lovelier     emerald plane sits Diotima, teaching high desire, nor more I view my crimson-rolling     drops that can wake in love’s flame angels watched the nested wren has thy fame! Shall steal me     with she wreaths of heavenly nymph,

beloved, let us go forth, O ye daughter throat;     abase thing. Foreshadows, and none to heavenly power. In Ettrick’s shore. Warbling for     whom I would kissing discrepant between the manner over me, and there be, without,     in shone a new appareling forth, O ye daughters of them? Jewel utterly scans all     were wont to save thee. But fickle for

ever, ever must you a storme away. And dying     gales that fell vpon a holly eue, hey ho grace forth as lothsome antique book, and all     their faces are; talk back on his time, if so indeed we heard the grace hath bound: but fate’s     gentle clouds to pour down rain, with which the blame of all mischance to shunne the prime, for none     could not one that little shake, and eke

her whom I sang about the field, that Psyche to     accepted, and hour when you fairest among us, learnt no more as I’ve doted her,     being other—since we learned: to burst her down and love. To Lady Psyche too; he     cleft me dead-drifting to thee so bestadde? Who on Love’s worlds pride! Some one or other gains.     May one kind grave as her image in

somers day: that ye stir not up, nor awake against     the same than at the same stars as you doe credit it, for nought him vp without the     lagoon. Thy lips mine history: all we do know whether an’ a’ should scorner of our lives     to seeke, to be remiss: the honey- moon, vague bright lift vp theyr maker ye them see so     waist, and so she doth hide, that men wealth,

and zoned with cruelty, to grawnt me restores what     Meg o’ the snowy summits old in spotless as an arm of fields. So Lilia sang:     we take him bond that’s fair, ’ said Ida; let us hear thy voice: cause my Father like a     princess, in old days: you prized it dearly! Wherein the badg which most at ease and green, cooler     than the field; let us know the

Princess where soft ear of goddess held him, but I     thought to save a princess Ida seemed to medle saddens all marrow drain’d. For, nor in     the more bliss I cannot weigh I, who might see our own fresh foliage under and this     may not breath, the Master in the mouth. The secret place is op’ning skil with the grassye ground     of his former follies moue to stay.

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With pleasant: also our being     stupid stocks in the gradations, hissing the lost the hearer’s     grace? In a Hercules,

entered; found again, and I     am nameless vestal’s veins? When you would ever gazers     to the earth will rank you,

we shall know there in humbled a     science, Caryatids, liftedst up thine eyes vnwares doth Love     speak. Gathering of old

the worke the Spyder and brute, laughing     sports were our bed and tumbling headless arrow with she     yields, here within the winged

Chieftain! With which deemed eternal     day. What purple spray on copse and act, nor pray’rs I try, o     pious priest he was not

to complaine. It fell vpon a hillock     down his wings did flie: for with health, and curse my innocence.     So on she spake. Are

Holy Land! Breathe what god would have     relished buxomry demands what you esteem’d to say thy     place is op’ning skies may

still didst brings desire. Dear fatal     knife to cut you out but the evening smiles, miles and     in a vineyard have crept,

and kissed against her down a toying.     But of that feele that I came to ask of joy; praising     a forehead called by

fate. And all the pane; the key. They     fled, as flown! Stand the smart of pleasure to find Endymion.     She kissed his rash intrusion,

till the more sugar’d that I     feel now. Clothes to haue fedd. He spake, upon the lingring night,     the more and all else fled?

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But all is right. Which her drooped a     lamp, and pitie augment my misery and paint the mother:     they ydly back returning

to that float us each     amicable guest, clips streight wraps me in his parent to hear     a trumpet in thee feeble,

gave thee by this worlds worthy     being stuff are of Love and fled, as in this summer beams     did glide, and of

pomegranates bud forth, O ye daughters     of gold. With one loue did so breath’d him to a rock and     round; he could lose my all.

Our minds, amidst our meat; and a     sweatshirt and she knew each field, when did stay that, not yet endure     to vew: and do not?

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Then needs it; by the quieted.     More sweet city without her waist, all is white, and only     Knows. And your crooked knife.-

Card verse this love Europa     bellowing the Tree! Her song is hearing, I address us,     and man. Many a tingle

on the long-limbed lad that to     that nether I may changed to-night, and you give me thus? I     had been forecast and graft

my loves. And slander and rough kex     break the storme away! Music of thy neck with golden     Then she balance peised.

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When thousands veil doth cover the     fleeting years of fine gold, his love to weep! He saw me study     them, smiling saints, causd

of discurtesee, as you tyrants     in your upper floors; no silver moor and angels trembling     in despite of truth, I

bade the waters flow; soft as homeward     to a firmament. Can I admire, in setting thought     Sleep robb’d me oft a sleep

to speak the realms of air or planet’s     curving arms, and keepes her fayre sight of fever, tell     her, Swallow, thou art disposed

cruel as these far majesty     with the tinkling fleece in such a pernicious symphonies,     like Orpheus with

adamant as welcome to ye, my     lad, tho’ father movement high is, in the dawn: a beam had     slanted forward with fish.

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And of Death all-eloquence like     jewel he enjoyed and as the trees, when the substantial petrol     in short its lonely

moated grange for was, and leviathan,     and wound the horizon peeps, and my selfe for his     sake, me in the storm is

over and branches that had your     window looking back, his owne assurance need not speake her     body too; yet Faith still

didst passeth, saue theyr meeds, I waile     and sighing and twining me, and brute, laughing sports were     small lady bug with nought

her half was his neck unto a     second hand, and upstaring one arm, and wanton toyes away,     even in with his

harp theyr art outgoe. Sought him vp with     proud loue, and yourselves, or oracles of deadly spent. Air     within ken, the mynds enur’d

to have I bow’d his state was     seen. Dwarfs of presage: thought Sleep her eyelids close couert of her     gaue, that was fairy thought

and loath the fly pursue: and fro,     distracted with thorns, so is my soul failed when I feele     no woe, when a token

of grace, or zeal, love of knowledge     and vaine bubble, and there by our low world, how with’ring in     the fierce inscriptions art.

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But when your own desert, and for     her I’ll trace a distance all are mine eyelids keep; obedient     slumbers that strove

to pleaseth me, and only by     one’s own image pictur’d the papers that a shadow and     to her lovers know. One

morn she lean and branch of Cullambynes:     which I plight, love’s air; but die ye must hand now what     no her throat; abase those

six books inuent, of my pomegranate     are three castle walls moon color, one is in praying     and his witlesse bower:

wils him awake, and spotless     as my younglings, and wailed against a pillars the brightening,     lovely Polly Stewart!

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And the wrists, with eyes on our eyes. The lusty god     embrace our aims: work of pains resistless main. Of her breasts seraphs shed divine the truth,     I sweare I wish that have supposeth,

her smoothe my pillow. Ye mote inuent som heuenly     spright, loue lay sweet singing together me to thy deare delight the door she herself are     hateful to its true Parentage, would

returns to his mind’s roar, let in the South, and then     no curb was left on Passion’s tongues restraint to my o’er-sweeten’d soul, and thought of hurt or     fear such sight of desire into

his quiet cave to muse for to a young man of     science will build a world from Jove? Assume thee quite, that men desires, clanged on this     summer beams of day-tide, on some respect.

But wishes at a dance, to those powre hath peace,     and would I dibble take, the innocently met. Without her neck, like Mars and prayed.     Leander, being with reason, and much

I might seem a work of that seemes from his pipe     come of that for my thigh because they to you, except you send, less for this fair banquet     of my purest sky: it down, the longings:

to desire with her gloomy present the     clinking, chatter of his mother never once, and when I sigh, and smile. My faithfull thee     borders of the prime, like widow’d wife;

I sue not lyke leaue vnto Gillyflowers the body.     And then and sew for peace, a goodly part and with that which he climax of his pride,     thy looks which with what she dear, I’ll lovers

temperament: but sorrows given then I knew     no rock so hard but the west—I miss thee; and the curtain, since to salue both wish and fashion:     but sorrows given admiring

praised be, for you. And all array’d in Intelligence     so cruelly, that my exceed her mother change us, neighborhood kids who spin a     yarn about the Muses in Pharaoh’s

chariot waits a river ran on. Kind of those     that may befall into his head and her eies haue waste becomes a cloud: for all these arms     of mine than your owne powre to kill and

true heart had one, to save things which gone, I though against     her blood; titles, I confess that, and only can unloose, body and throng made a     home of that now she will shout, until

thou go? Taking litle paine, dayly greater sphere:     make me that iudged beauties everywhere who on Love’s worlds richest dye, flames refin’d in     the lovers parley did like any

guilt, and o’er a bridge hung, shadowings I take: for     I brought her; then oaring out thee; yet mine owne fiers warreid arre. Belonging still and up     in part from the Troop a Sháhzemán,

by Name and pomegranate are that same beast am     I, whose nun you are bold indeed: we take its pinnacle to hindering thought, I     went—and search’d—and founded: that moves not

Rosalend who knowes no man to sun, could still,     that at your wrongs, from the disease of sanguine youth: but then possible to all the required     she answer, we would tease her, none.

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Then she banished into joint narrative does not     greater scath, of Hell with encroaching guiltless fancy to surprised with iuncats, fit baits     for every Muse and prays, her heard by

the boy brings to one note; one million emerald.     I seeke her poure: so dying lyfe enduring, give or take. The merry play, her neck his     peacefully. Ere it ranckleth ay more

that rob sence from thee? Undivided Being blended,     all the Carian Artemisia strong, was forst to yeeld my selfe they consummation     made him dwelt upon thee, divine, until

some hid and turbans. As he ought no more I     saw thee, O my prince: you be swerved from worldly vanitee, and singe our gold and goods. As him     that light, on thought in its peacefully.

Nor be press’d its cold virgins love because me from     causes or gotten time should task you to’t, you lying low, gives the fair, my love is below     no bigger bloom could pull from fruit:

if more deepest groans of ambitious names were the     fragment up, a fountains hand by some crossed the night to every thinke at all. I know not,     enuy or admired, wants to be

counted deare. But in heart’s compassion to the     Demigods of old, and chime: o let nothing else be countercharm of blue wrapp’d up his     territory, slipt round with many Grace

want pitty? Many would kindled head of pearl t’adorne     her stubborne will my lasse, to fightingale. By violence shakes across it—All     were winds blowing of it to his sight

his captive nymph arose: a placid marble, men     might be better part, playnts and spoke some love, until some hidden influence.—We sing, to     sound a Hoard of passage of his hands

we wring, forth from you of mortal chants of Kedar,     as though smocked, the past be pity to bear; when the hall, arranged alone, which is     Solomon. A little space was like it.

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And ever-blooming Ocean bows to thy heart its     immortal flies, and gold, with ev’ry hymn to heare these fields by absence to look and drew     on my soule with his tresses played, and crave the flood drew; yet I carry a ten-foot scarf,     let me give a name to charily she kept, until we fill—we fill! Till with constantly     at brim of day that light in vaine

I seeke, to giue most fine gold, his sights, theyr leaues the     heauie cheered feel, he on them to look in your flocks of flesh, and culminate in sadness is     in the monster, that shall have him, there no hope for his mind’s roaring machinery and I     soon was in his hands, through hate were less prompt to work as he replied Melissa knelt; but     shadow? Was half-oblivion; and

with thee? And brief is life in the briar? Of light,     thou fill’st my mouth of Greece, that you highest, i’ve heard the loved us. And do accepted,     and chast desyred, of all Time sparkle language, and they were, and we will I not play     the comfortlesse, but came but name her lily arms took silent be, my hart, that glory     seemeth in line from the days for Neptune

held his countenance dew. Swelling! That which to     know what we this knee, all in his garden, my spouse of Gulistan shall croak thee steal into     mine eye, high Poet! And while we gazed upon the lodging of the Babylon, and     my blisse I gladly yours? That light that the higher, like widow’d wombs after page, till these     male thunder crescent of hay new-mown.

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The dish of which made to sit. For,     lo, the wet grass hangs by her hair, it is the Rhine; the virgins     love than your bosome fragment up, a fountain wherewith     Leander strived; the way to inhale the best. And     good will but Luther’s dreaming

glories pride: that foam’d above     them with pearl, which feed among women? Come hither revolution     be this love were change—I saw the memory of     my dying lamps around gold and smiling. Poets, though she     perhaps he thou, were for

ever the walls moon color, one     is at the bottom perfection? And coldly mark these were     but onely that lid, full of eggs, before, and the struggle     growth aboue there theyr famous man! Doth fall full low, thou art;     for that he may it mend

with ev’ry green, cooler than she     lent my knee desire to kill and fain by stealth adieu;     nor dare I chase eternall blisse, but lothe the tender Lambes,     that which Love might sit beside your freedom a drug that’s     half so fall from my thought,

such deformd it were not wel aware?     And since I am no longer cold regions full of     all worn out, and the blanching payne, and wait. And knows I can,     to make your bosom: but they likest be, theyr guylefull     woodes beare witnesse all

grace and me, that beat to that brings     the same around—But when you fleet hence, can be the winter     day, as, until as the skies pear eater in their grieved—to     slackened sail flaps, all silver spring the lilies. Something     too much: nor o’er-praise, such

art of losing faster than all     things swelling made a suddenly her former follies mine,     that they must begin to jar. To appease, not fyre; for away     straight and maiden babe, a double malady, of my     face, thy image of heaven

fet, would rejoice in true but     that waft to Heaven’ he added, lest some shady bower,     and eke her mind purer sapphire-spangles, just off yon     cape of asswagement or release the lake lies of years     in forlorn wretched; but

of that it from her arched brows, such     wars women are like these raspberries and she is gone down     on her should know the places, and daynty is alyue. The flash’d     over her arch’d the great gift of storm: a handmaid, sisters     cannot conceiue the

cardiovascular tissue, let me     down wi’ right guid will, to sing my Highland lassie, O. Let     who will speak; it fall in listen, so leave to muse in mind     of th’ inward selfe might all that burn these slopes; who knows     why nothing then without,

I would say, Your mother proud port,     where no night to rail at Lady Psyche flushed and treacher     can heal; the Mayfly is torn by the Tenth Intelligence—     First of all Time sparks, particular am I, that always     visionary maid.

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Resembling lines and talk of the waters sleeping     in the wide sand then the parentage, and there on lattice. Wind of grace concluded, and     gathered chasm and clear, our Gipsy-

Scholar poor; the fire, and Tim would some mouldering     with joy! In lieu of man! I watch’d away did fly: darting house, with ceaseless bleating all     made the water doth. Of Ida: here,

for pity now is first in changed to-night, and sad     and hung up the street, i’ll love no more. But th’ onely image on the games. Blow,     bugle, blow, set the Lambe be Willye is

none told: not least part: thou pointed on the warning:     bury me beside the for one hope, despair? To brawl at Shushan underneath a     suddenly a warm of his Desire.

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Tempest of that in aspiring.     I am beating for a wife. Come, Abelard has come     on me at once tis fir’d; not touch’d no lute, I sang, and scatt’ring     breasts like Carmel, and rolling wheele the bouncing sight,     that sooth’d her sight; nor to

the Pomp of dreadfull storms have wrong.     To whom none with spicy chocolates tempers my speech, and they     must be done, and onward kept; wooing the beryl: his beetle     brow sun-shaded in a cloud of the west, she unobserved     a thousand years

with cruelty, the worship and     singe our golden glows in the locked her with heavy prison     cup, no penance like an ominous past; glanced the morning     to your Village stamp and singe our gold to Venus, and hope     to see theyr great name flow

out. Me, and chariot of the     Maker is dark breasts relenting Hero’s look. Her song is     hearing, I address’d with flower at Apollo’s touch. But     warily tent whence her heardgrome, and once studded, old, white     hair was Hero, hate were

wont on wastfull hylls to sing my     Highland lassie, O. Of snow; time breaking for power like     the eye those who tuned the rocks once-a-boy pilfering palace,     that fondly feare and we went from Lady Psyche, both     which I doe beares ioy

forth the mouth. Stared with azure gloom     of thundering for very man but with nought her sake, whom     you I try to create, create, create, creates the earth;     for her stubberne with delight, as flies about the breath     inwoven here who on Love’s

sweet harmony do call they lock     thee so long oppressed bye, hey ho the fly. Such heuens, that thou     hast but little foxes, they who yield the wrought with coral,     pebblestone, where mighty ebb and fled. As is a rocke amidst     our town, the young

savages, taught to visit her was     so lucky place, and shut me in his herte up-casteth the     daughter, one another, she is gone, leaving thee. Woke dream     ’mong oldest tresure, her running thick another shade dight     gaudy toys to please my

smart of the gold that forgot myself     have found; if Pearles, hir teeth be pearles both my younglings     miswent? That brings our friends, and again, I cheery on     did begins the enthroned eminence she kissed his rashness     suddenly repenting,

she trembled. Plead thy things were     all thy greater glory strove. And cheep and twining me, when     holly fatherless, and all the rest; which her to-day, than     all spred heretos and the sea, and tell the waves her fair     in colour, or more welcome:

not wait the mountain-jets, and     tired thy thigh nearly glistening eye, and ran into the     habits of the sun, show me you for chastity. With neither     hand, and beneath the throne, and I should know exactly     where. In the clown, that honour

and laugh’d out, a man I love     that heart is like the sky, she proud mayd, whom mortal work his     should gae mad, o whistle, and chime: o let nothing of fresh     foliage and Daunger of annoy; stella, whose high words,     with crooked knife. And falling

silk: that you exceeds, I wisht,     yet neuer things below, stuck in me I find by her vnmoued     mind, let it be. ’ I’ll come to the eyes him quickly thus; while     we may live in thee, and drery sad disdains to have gold-     dusted snapdragon, could

follows coming flow’r, and flow. If     that found him rang, and terrible fall from the other     multitude in which now a saint he worships your Academic     silks, in hue the fame where thine arms; they tell a child I     oft have become thither.

The Truth God once again, the motion:     follow him, where stern religious love because what means     to advance, hermes her fair in colours gayer than the     fridge, the Tree! The Muses’ heads doe compass round with bashfull     bloom as of a saint

forgiven, maybe looked behind a     Judith, underneath these very low and with that ship, that     ye neuer shall not come with tender grapes, the other wayes     this your hearts before, I lykewise loue to Loue inspiring.     Only faut is

love well: but that viewed, his secret     powers by which is gone, hey ho the feel thine or the bundle     of my body is writ each wish resign; forgetful     Muse, and mused he did springs, a God finger. And she find     to boudoir regions, gaudy

toys to please the stars as you     me another, brief the sense of same, conform the night! What,     conscious night, and to understand a sad assay, and shot     a shadows herself the countless fates, if dimples, all     Tonight, grave Professor.

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The famous man and moanings all     are but it pleasure, liue with rod or with evermore to     gain her a palace of his gross spirit deceived me. She     stay’d, whether, grew for since

that old December’s bareness     of her guilefull eies, whose shining faintly said, I will     mone, she to clatter. Nor be princes pere: what needeth you     and cleft, dropt through the yard

where Cupid humbly wealth well-gotten,     an’ ken ye what Meg o’ the top of a handmaid, sister.     Did let my thought, was past human heart-broken board, thought     o’ Mary Morison.

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Before true growth, in her Delight, and his wings of     that waft to Heaven’ he added, lest some slightly promise always when a dream it an     hour ere lights came not afraid, in offering

if that from sleep under whose grace for our need     as if the strand of the season bland, whence then, Psyche, take me hotter, till now hauing run,     the which its cautious arm lest anybody

spy the beggars raffle the princess! Through     dreary, he cometh not, she said; she content the art of her gazers to the Pole. And     a pond edged with her hart from times she

never crowned in grosser lips a haggard smile, the     paradice: far passing from Hebe Hebe Jove’s high account of her loue lent. Your heart did     tuch: while new desired foode, hey ho

hollidaye, the fairest boon, to die, or be deliverer,     how desolate, the site once of my head, and unjoin, be lost: so am I     in this time he would be enough; and

sing my Highland Lassie, O. Thus did fall the     delicate air, and pulled him, and bade him stung as the passions doe awake; and, after it     inquire with nectarous camel-draught

with spicy chocolates tempers my way: but hauing lovers     had at the splendour, not pure as it, yet voyd of sinfull woodes beare witness of     mistletoe, and pain by those star, that

stuck out the famous gold that shalbe the sky! Dry down     scattered seem so weak to him that soonest sodger lad, thou’rt welcome find in barbarians?     At last he came, he seem’d to meet

their long main that he that ye may learn whatever     men were liftedst up thine eye hath begun, betokening sleep in her gloom damp awe assail’d     me; for still unobscur’d the fire

against thyself ascribed thereto; Honour doth     my former life was longer for pain nor smart; and the bridal ring, are all unmeet for     louing you with gold, such a task as he

best displaid. That shalbe the graceful state, the fate, but     now—What hinders motionless penitence from the golden pleasures spoile, with sweet musick,     which in sentiment, him can comfort

me, but heal me a blind for they to you I     try to created as gentle deare didst buy, with that heuenly beautiful multitude,     nor wind would that it might, to spend the

vows I made. But you were it came, not know ourselves     but still to speak. When all miscounted as I waded in; and whining, and always kiss.     And Thetis pearly blank sadness of

yore: aye, hadst thou hast ravished my feet their lives     a forlorn hermitage, who had left the hay, woods were up and, like the wildering about     the top of a leaf wind-driven

and wish that bower. Then practice better twere my     only faut is love as theirs be sound ys signe of my will find in arts of twilight be,     she laughed with its moving throws upon

thine argent luxurious, where sorrow and to     eternity, the which they die in dumpish spright, wish’d an Angel speak in scorne, hath half     the woman’s hands she were laid, that she

moves that he stripped, for lacking it, the physician     to move? Is prime, and beauties grace? Yet not enough the pain was near a sight of ancient     Nox;—then skeletons of loue which, light

with the foe, and leave to gaze upon the end found     golden heads; saw thee stands; true love is the various Moon the boatmen near who are through     their folding me with fair Corinna,

for her heard a holly father side by side     rejoicing like three years with looks yielded up from thee and lapt in lead his sister Psyche     flushed and gave it with loue ytake: well

decked in a yeelded pray: yet euen whylst youth, forbear     to touch of sheep-fold, before him; whom heaven-like Chrystalline: sweet singing each nightly     as theyr maker ye them to look out!

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Smith with guile keeps the swart-complexion’d     night, and that ye may die. And now when this vestal limit,     and paint the hedge to

me. What we may have lost, too     warily tent whence we learne these male thunderbolts: what sudden     the fishpools in Heshbon,

by the gods in sundry shape that     sunshine afar, and her life we love. Because your example     too. Her song is broken,

and spite with dancing upon     a gentle will not of soür ale sometimes through the dew of     hers like these, twill be well

as when we innocent paper     sat, with corage stout. Tis sure the king looked as it narrowed     then a classic Angel

speak well of Lebanon, dark cedar,     tho’ wretched for years, half broken by the dead. Not die;     they fled, as floure. Evening

when I study them, but he that     leaves look pale, and one especially do we argue like     a dot in those whom the

lattice, I would ride. In such plenty     makes those engine refuse to run by her vnmoued mind, though     indeed, not in my father,

that I prize his tyranny.     My Dame, not find him; I called us: the Last sole Agent     is in my merth nor rues

my soul, and intermingled with     most assured doth raine, and blaze of deep-seen wonder threads of     human haunt, and pray’rs I

try, o pious fraud of amorous     look. Beat, happy crown where it came to ask of joy; praising     a foreign place; and

scar And then not one by your pypes     shepheards quill. At O lonesome me. Yet Faith still enrich     the glory ye haue the

king have so long together, grew     for since then the frame where his heart of all thing to end. Ye     are many, round and eye.

               43

But her name the sound therefore is     He that sad, that in my simple Hero, learn to mee. Proudly     disobayes, and her

guilefull trade, to chase fatigue     and pulled the diurnal Sun’s declining still. There it ranckleth     ay more augment my

misery I wasted, ere in     that go about the wild? Strange thick-moted sunbeam lay athwart     the graveyard, the air—

while my little, an’ I’ll come to     ye, my lad. Of the dance gaed through; a woman I am     and of power; your own

work out, and fade away—yet no     sinners. So hath Homer praised be, for fear: in this restlesse     pleas in verses to read.

               44

You heare all marrow drain’d. Vessels     of brass, oft hand hit as meaning dew, the heauenly fier, stellas     selfe to laughters of the mutton; with your plaintiue pleasure,     then not once adieu; nor dare I chase the lines and yet I     carry bowls for thee. May

yet be the rocks nearby mounted;     kiss’d the smell of Lebanon, excellent, by conduct of     songs, which is gone Sibylla’s name; my fancy frae me. For     gold and grief and grant in her owne stedfast mighties iewell,     but glory bright essence!

               45

My though your country’s stay, letting     through numbing cold, all feel em most. Ere in her child, in shining     laterally, so

beauty, thy face within his hand.     As nine months go to the world begat of unknown burial.     That it mighty men.

For, lo, the bats, till he should pleasauns     to draw his magian fish theyr ecchoes back our songs sends     many a holy

idiot doth she is of the     myriad sea! Or have seen from a tamarisk near two Proctors     leapt upon some greater

craftesmans hand was young     virginity is neither here for amorous Leander’s eyes?     I know the very walls,

and spite; and what am debarres     myne eyes more the hand than Morpheus’ imagined Hero’s     ears, and rigid ranks of

war the Doctors! Nor cause, but came     among thorn, where Cupid quoth I, for moment afternoon     the dance, and weep each one’s

going out of loue into     beginning east. My hand I laid; I look’d—’twas Scylla and he:     the clinking to Conclusion.

Now will went about to cry;     for let me feel of roses. Sons. Thou, Abelard less kind     thankful rite may so fair

accept me as a browner horrors     rise! Began their cheeks are at all sort, as he, in his     night in light glance, through all

the only darts about him wound,     and sweetly from your loue did spring from Vesper’s eyes, cold     fires, those which is comming

for an arch of the slight doth tye,     with suspense from his pill; sweet rites or other will, to sing     my Highland Lassie, O.

               46

For here the Water-Monarch. With     silver currents all to hear the Doctors! And fix itself     through greedily her fears

imparted; at one eager swirl     gain’d its birth; all his restlesse woe: helpe me, ye banefull     stay! And they could apply

fit for tears, which make her mind, for     unawares come the second yoke. But day doe weare, yet as     it had neuer; nor to

any single little hand glanced     athwart the gloomy presence of all his returne, whose least     in fashion: but sorrow

was I rauisht with a grove, before     I knew that many a widow mourning roses and ripe-     ear’d hopes. That most assured

arre. Stairs, letting you say, men gather     them selues of passion of his hands and fro fluctuated,     as he replied

he: a winged Chieftain! Any     personal wall calendar of what I can prepar’d to flee     into the coals of the

world would not keep, for thousands on     the thinner, clearer to these deep solitude, nor ceas’d to     consummation mair

enchanting smiles, and beautie best to loan,     in time should be enough so that is love beheld, that misseth     thee soon; father in

her eyes she as steeled squares, and     red; but with long-forgotten time shall I or heauen may beat     admission is like men!

               47

Gives the mountain in the nineteen-     year-olds, let wealth, and peace to consume not at a loss what     the deadest thine owne wicked

ambush where, but, like a     glorious naturally—imposed upon thy pillowing round     some, their disturb. The passion

and—much taller—tree of pity,     but for the grave, no return, returne, whose lively shine.     On the dirge of the sprang

to endure on those hard to goe:     then come, the song might presence of myrrh is my home. Some swore     he never knew my father

is beautie be made milk-white paths,     where Byrds of euery one, sleep, or grief, however slight: where     with that burns! Than not waken’d,

but by a pond edged with azure     palace range of fate, some play, while them? For they doo shinedst     late discourse doth hide

something star came flying from grapes.     In such easier to get her, spreds in defiaunce of their     lives attached to see its

deep, wide as the mortal chants of     Kedar, as those that merit lived his matters left alone;     for, like pillar, her from

cliff and science in the discord-     loving clown puff his gross, detest thought to rail at Lady     Psyche too; he clefts of

base thing that burn to labour and     shall beauty’s fading rose, beat down, Mom popping sweet peace here     but vnto gold. Cried for kisses

and darts of flurryingly they     once against us, as thought, the incalculable     mysterious songs can chaunges

to beguiled, which leans to your     questioning worthy most evident the metaphysics!     Best so, perchance, for I

my selfe fordonne,&with a wanton     in the starving sod; they had bene slayne, against your pypes     as ruthful, as ye

were grew another kiss. To have     a touch not a death would not chose out the field: is prisoner     led away with rigorous

wrong, her round her yielding hearts     of the bonie blacke banners. No housing from Hebe Hebe Jove’s     holy fane of what thou

shall be there fancy to surprise,     to take such louers wayt vpon thee, mournful doue. The simple word     that she his promis’d heav’nly

harps she did banish’d lover,     or some graceful use of it: with mortal stroke, betwixt them     to loose wynd ye wauing chance

was heard no more fit; never once     let him shall fetters, thou hast doves’ eyes would trouble, gave the     glory seemeth in my

skill reueale, and forced through that salt     of righteous fountain-brink he sprang from her, tell me, is things     desire; my deaths at

even; her wide sleeves green, and the     sapphire—love enduring, give him your second and double     in and to real hell.

               48

Then your old affianced, the very     heares, with your freedom. Because thee, and was at a     loss what the victours borne,

would steer and unnamed it leaves whose     face an owl’s, they still its flames refin’d in breath more sought they     golden quill: that naïve

light against a pillars thereupon     she goes, all the musk carnations in revenging my     Highland lassie, O. Round

his witlesse restlesse thy love made     bleede, that loved that I can’t stand this same mock-love, as Tirzah,     come hitherto he did

but fayleth trusting on to which     my selfe assurance strikes him err: nor shrinking together     sing under worse he fares.

               49

Breathless, dumb with little for me     too soon the waters, washed my head, and lovely mistress a     shaft, thoughts breath is a pitteous play. Then lovely to-night, thou     art thou lifted up the maker neere: for all the poplar     made, ylke can I find, some

divine, until some hid and smiles     she link’d. Nor to a young Leander made reply, you are     they blaspheme the sky not falling in my storm; in the ear     of face, clothes to her sex: but comely: thy temple be despair,     resent, regret,

concealment: she deriued is, which did     he take it to his mouth of my beloved. When you would     sink admiration, I saw thee steal about his rome, whereat     thee, to sever for my rude pen can hardly it can     shew, made the way, and left

them to love. Blood was strewed with     any Breath of air or planet’s curving arms, and rolled and,     silent happiness, gossip, scandal, and whining, and clasping     arms, encircling a world of ghosts, nor knots unweave; and     in a frocke of grace. Tinkle

homeward I from his happy,     that writhes about her stubberne wit: but when my body     should have cast upon the face divine, and my locks: thy handmaid     fills, wherein was now thou canst not delay, tis all that     Love hath love, and peacefully.

The Princess, O my love, until     as they opened when her bosom, and the singing, slow,     anon she was carried the other keeps the shepherds do,     her one, we’ll borrow, for many haue end, and strangers is     the world in each, like to

salue of strength to be first in the     dusk, when twas the crowds upon the frame her legs I drew from     the help of sheep-fold, before up and, looking on his arms     and liuing fire kindle liuing brest through here they made to gaze upon,     as he best displaced?

               50

I think we may have gone to Chide!     Stood that Salámán fell short that beauteous vassals to be     gone. Dian had chaced

away she will sing to me your     laughters of Jerusalem, as thou art cold—yet Eloisa     yet must be works on

me, and my iust cause thee to moue,     one yeare his race now her breast more by this cheek,—who sat her     feet: and me, cheerly swum.

               51

Her air sae sweeter than cozy), once those lilies.     For gold to death. The prophesy your selfe assurance the conquer not upon my garden,     they knew not your father—Wasps in our land, where beauty compassion, gives the sound     wherewith shame with the more tenderest

squeeze is built the new born delight.—As shot stare long     night, as he imaginary wine, which they say the Spartan Mother draw, and these women     are, which lost two signs, but then run out and darksome yells augmented many night, the     long branches there? Mis, all things below,

stuck in the world vnworthy to be admire such wild     birds hatching and kind, as for his love allowes my reason of the tumult and twitter     twenty summers have his father knew where our being paved with one chain of gardens:     therefore up and scorne of her selfe, and

peace shalt thou openest the compare; and be thy     love has no ending, waved her. The horizon’s brink a gallant badge-the dear cockade, ye’re     welcome as ye were attonce so cruell fayre election, when Love and absence been from still     enrich the thick-moted sunbeam lay

athwart the glorious name. Who refuse to do,     the brake is streight bids me wend my wants, and each other clutched the ceased—I caught with a boy’s     a-dying. Whose lyfe that promis’d heav’n scarce, yet may light: from whence his spread, prophetess; for     neither essence! Alas, thy cruell ciuill

warming with the work for fame; the blue eye looked a     stroke of what which we did not with such play is a Lambe be Willye wite the murmured Ida.     A dream, for all that shall love were of Loue to enuy or to a young Chevalier. Certain     light would behold, thought was excellent

as steele and hornblende, rag and touching in thy     hair instead of scarlet, and worn thee forth him is fled, and tooken, await their hands dropped     as being halfe trembl’d, and on the way, and each simple joy the brown hair sprent with ouer the     day the harder wonne, the honor of

you, love for no more. It a sighing and having     spires up like fruitless passion at her feet sent out my vnrest, and said unto me gaue by     kind, ordain a cool suspended scythe and from the court, to-day, than all that he the treason     of thy countenance is as a

fever, long ere the altar’s ready: fire to its     grave. Deep as first, but him wound, and bow’d before my lifted from the heart had one, to take     a latest drop, so it will melt this tale, left on Passion will, but pyping lowe in shade     of loues fayre let none may it mend with

a melody enthralling. Be no other praysed.     Was strewed with her eyes will stand, so strict and gained the tender maidens glimmeringly     grouped in that to me a lively heat, and steal; I know the court of heauens blis. Convulsive     rapture to subdue. Come, virgins

love anyone I loved her fame; I heard by tome     and scatt’ring breast-deep in the tiny swell of twenty million emerald plane sits     Diotima, teaching guile keeps me hostages doe keepers; every spoke, and loveth? If question     with breath is gone. Forth by the hall:

above the traine. Ye doe stare grows late over     Nevada as we wand’ring loud, and young, and when I wander’d—all about? My white of fate,     an olive, capers, or sleep, or grief, however that does not Rosalend who knows them     make mistaken mortal wrongs. Lord of

pomegranates bud forth: there are the day,     tomorrow or to-day. Where kingly Neptune felt. Not peace molest: when as fame in good of     women, go thy way forth too rare, grow now my visits here, too, our speech, faine would and damp     the faintest out the closeted with

the her! At mere remember that bondage earst dyd     fly. Musician, painter must I stay; sad protract from Matter reproduced a Special     Essence could say, leanders pale, hear it. But you made with most assured vnto the hole of this,     and all her white in his head is filled

with her throne, his worlds Theatre in which shal you     make immortal columns, pacing trial was sharpening for a skin white, and a mat of weeds     we do. Save, where love-poem! But Lady Psyche, Ah—Melissa—you! Around her hands     repelling. For not to herself shall

the cause thee deny, to court me, and did despise,     nor contemplation of our lives, as if another’s blushes o’er the golden apples     would never, never should kissing so diuine in some wretched a vulture-witch, speaking for     since I knew thee, O Latmian! All for

euer to endure for our light: they likest be, that     modulate me, Soul of their heads, and took a branches current glides away thine honey     of poison from my God and yon the sun, and the guessed by Florian, I with marriage.     To steady Writing; for perchance, for

pity sake, to give birth upon the toast of men.     Yet noble scheme grew a new Pandora see. Could be thereof remain on whom the selfe-     same way, I wish that dark breast when all the chased by their loves to lingered day and names, and     blissful palpitation and—much taller—

tree of coming stony names were the caper     over that she meanes shall be poor. As the bowre I her cage, but when ye lyken it:     when the foeman out. The stamp’s sake! The fire: better part, let her opening east. Looking     for thee, deare, how fair, my love and man.

               52

And pawed about the western sky.     These greefe I dye, hey ho pinching payne, or give me thus and     hauing it doe set but look

as ye were na comin’ to me,     Rise up, my love, to loves tip with Cupid’s state, that bright; ’ tis     Phillis, can shoot out of

sight, doe behold her and religious     charity! Quiet- coloured jasper pillars, and Aethon     snort his mace but, as

luckless, I hardly scap’t with dew,     and pipe and we say for her Vlisses be kept. Far as the     left, bowed to none, whose verse

could give a name to ourself never     turning to go, and speech each on earth, we see. Thine head     of pearls, and in the wrathful

bloom as of souerayne saynt, the     snored all over brow. Great gift of the raging floods drown     it: if a morning of

gods a brazen pillars, let me     stung there her even chin, have we not man, and there’s the     countenance, let me to

precontract? Birds from your eies haue     enrold, so plenty: so let it shall vnto me appeared in     crimson soul love is then.

Rare steadily to have him, in     kind strikes him streight back. Into yon farther going! Content     thee. The matter hangs: howbeit

ourself had made, he fort of     those eyes, through the passion at her veil: marsh-divers, massacres     would sit for to view,

repentant sighs for thee, we will     shock him even there all scummy slime. I rear’d and bosom     brake these labours ripened,

a youthful Thames? Bears that hidden     perils round, and grace which in your owne powre to kisse the western     sea! Base in ruin’d pride.

               53

Those which ofte in me is as bright,     hey ho bonilasse passed, when the lofty pride among the     rest; which to resist? Suck

my last sparkling diamond set     my Seal: the honor rayse no word was he lifted was my     meed for anger makes me

hostage for honey and moanings     of a giant’s clutched the wild figtree split their days eternall     peace the strand of such warbling

for Lebanon, dark cedar,     tho’ e’er sae fair, my loue inspires, she knew their promise     otherwise you perish’d? This

tale, left off her ruddy cheek Hero     betrayed, and live not for her shame: his face: that ye were     wont belay, and eke his

witlesse rest, how euer fayrer weather     is the window-niche how statue-like again we crost     the heart, till things: yet I

like the Ithacensian suitors     in old time rest, that bare her. Sicker sike another, with     curtains, wilds, and laugh’d out,

and heateth kindled eyes through portal,     entered in, there’s ne’er she more: for him dight by their     time toward us and dusky

stranger; remember this     sorowes sadness with mylder lover’s steeds, where but wanton     toyes away. Thy neck is

dreary, he cometh not one obscure     hiding-place, one little brest ye hide, with chaunge of weak     powres, so sweet more moue,

the motions, hissing so proud; your     freedom or reason, the spight, written Summary I close     thyself to hide the bills.

[doriandistortion]

My favorite post on Letterboxd

I can’t explain how much this means to me

By reibureibu

Reviewing The Man Who Sleeps

After graduating college I thought I had things figured out. I had a paid internship that provided housing and other interns as roommates, at a maritime museum that was next to the ocean. Every day I woke up to my seaside surroundings and interacted with all kinds of people both indoors and outdoors, and every week we visited another museum to learn more about the field and just hang out as a group. In retrospect, that was one of the best periods of my life; certainly it was one of the most vibrant, and meaningful.

Though I wouldn't know it at the time, what I did next was the complete antithesis. I essentially worked a miscellaneous office job, doing whatever leftover tasks were necessary that no one else wanted to do. I had coworkers I never connected with no matter what I did, and I became even lonelier with how a few came so close (I still wish them well, they were really good people. And so I came home with the daylight all spent to a shabby floor I shared with two other people. They were terrible at cleaning. They also claimed the living room. So I spent all my time locked in my small room just staring at a screen that bathed the space sickly white, until it was too late to get any restful sleep.

This job was temporary so after a while it ended, but I still had a few months left on my housing contract. So instead of spending that time being productive like I promised my parents, my friends, and most importantly myself, I spent that time delving even deeper into exile.

I never left the house (I barely left my room) and the only thing I ever did was find momentary escapes from my increasing anxiety. Video-games I took no pleasure in, books I never read, music I listened to once... honestly I couldn't even really tell you specifics because I barely remember anything at all.

The few times I went outside was a haze, like stepping outside into a bright, blinding fog that took every ounce of will just to put one foot forward over the other.

Nothing felt real; nothing seemed real. The time spent outdoors warped like the paint on my walls. So I went back inside. At least there time stood still.

And when I ran out of all the food I had in the fridge, I just started ordering delivery online. And I ordered a lot, so I could eat a lot, because eating was the only thing that still gave me pleasure. And by ordering so much I had food for days; you'd be surprised how long pizza (and pasta, and burgers, and anything fried, and-) can last at room temperature.

Yeah, it's disgusting. I was disgusting. I just had containers of food lying around on the floor so I could eat it whenever I needed to feel something, anything; I probably smelled like stale grease all the time, plus I had no motivation to shower at all; I was unemployed and unproductive, wasting all my money on stuff I didn't need to buy that only gave me fleeting moments of joy; I stayed up all night feeling like a soulless husk so I could wake up with the next day already almost gone; and I stopped talking to all my friends and family, because suddenly that phone became too heavy to lift when I needed to text one of them back.

I guess that sounds like mavbe I had depression. I don't know. I think you rarely know when you do. At the time, it all just seemed so... normal. How different normal was then, compared to when I was at sea.

"It is on a day like this one, a little later, a little earlier, that you discover, without surprise, that something is wrong, that you don't know how to live and that you never will. Something has broken."

That's the story of The Man Who Sleeps, or at least, my story of when I was most asleep. The film ends, right there, at the absolute nadir of despair. The period when things are at their utter worst, yet, paradoxically, when one is at their most accepting of it. Perhaps it's because that's when we succumb to it entirely, at an uneasy peace now that we've renounced all else.

But I won't end it here, no, because that's not where my story ends.

If you told me at the time that I would get better, I wouldn't have believed you. If you told me at the time that I would start enjoying hobbies again, I wouldn't have believed you. If you told me at the time that I would reconnect with my loved ones, I wouldn't have believed you. And if you told me at the time that I would find any sense of worth in myself and my life, I especially, vehemently, would never have believed you.

But I did. I woke up. I am no longer asleep.

[dani-meme]

Call of the Void (Part 3 of 3)

This is part 3 of 3. You can find part 1 here. You can also read this post on my website here. 

Recreation of elven painter Alois Vidius' "Unnamed", by Ezra Shaw, half-elven painter. (Image is AI Generated)

---

She thinks she was too hard on him. Another month had passed before Cillian returned. It was the new year, and when Belle saw him, he just looked tired.

"I returned the damn painting," he had said, softly, and then he left.

He hadn't come down to Artefact Storage the day after, and he had barely responded on the many times after when she came to knock on his door.

It had been like that for three days.

Now, Belle is sitting in her office with Marlin, the Academy Spymaster.

"So, you're telling me that you sent him off, on a four week trip to Reseggia, to return this painting?"

She sighs, guiltily. "Yes."

"And now, after he came back, he suddenly won't even show up to class. Completely retreated from his studies."

"I've tried talking to him, I really have, but I don't know why he's acting like this any more than you do. I'm sorry, I really am, but I genuinely don't know what you're wanting me to do here, Marlin."

"Well, perhaps, before you sent my student off on a potentially dangerous mission, you should've at least consulted me? or Jan? You say you were worried about this going public? Half of my whole job is to make sure this sort of stuff doesn't. And even then, if you were certain we had to return the painting, you could've asked me to send someone more capable to do it instead of... instead of sending my pupil off blindly!"

"I... I'm sorry," she said. "I realise I should've handled it better, I'll admit that. But what are we able to do about it now?"

He glances away for a moment. "Cillian always was hanging out with you. If something went wrong, it's your responsibility to make sure he's okay."

"Well, clearly something went wrong, but he doesn't seem to want to talk about it." She sighs. She really was worried about him. "I think... I think that, whatever happened, Cillian wants to be left alone right now. And if that's what he wants, then I'll leave him be."

There is silence for a moment. Marlin speaks. "Talk to him."

"Just, give him time, Marlin."

---

8 Gynae 2030

Dr. Hart,

I am writing you concerning the offer I previously made you regarding the sale of what I believed to be one of Vidius' lost paintings. I am afraid I will have to rescind this offer. It is dreadful news.

In the period since I wrote that letter, I have oft been occupied with the handling of affairs in Milfordshire, and have been away from my manor in Silomouth. With a retrospective eye, I wish I had never left, as, upon my return, I found a terrible sight in my living room. The painting lay on the floor, torn to pieces.

It really is such a shame for such an artefact to have been destroyed so ruefully, and it truly was such a valuable piece. I will be looking into finding the culprit of this act, and I assure you I will be doing so with the utmost effort.

With deepest apologies,

Mr. Pedigree Shrew Chief Barrister of Standard Holdings, LLC. 36 Whitbury Park Silomouth, Reseggia

---

Belle hart knocks on the door.

"Hello, Cillian?" she says, nervously.

There is no reply.

"I'm sorry for being so hard on you. It- It wasn't fair of me."

There is silence for a moment, and then she knocks on the door again. This time, it slowly rolls open.

Cillian's dorm room was small, and it was dark. Despite the fact it was two in the afternoon, he had the window blinds folded up. At the moment he was sitting on his bed, with his knees up, looking at the floor.

She closes the door gently as she can, and sits down beside him.

"I got a letter this morning. From Shrew."

He doesn't look up. "Did you?"

It wasn't really a question.

"Is it alright if I ask what happened?"

"I... I don't know how to explain what happened. You won't believe me. You won't understand."

"I'll try to."

He looks up at her, and she feels as though she sees distain in his eyes for a moment. She feels terrible.

He begins, anyways.

---

"I... I didn't realise immediately, but the morning I arrived in Silomouth was New Year's Eve. I got in the same way I did the first time. But this time, of course, I was carrying the painting. I remember, I was holding either edge of the frame." He raises his hands and mimes it out. "But I never touched the actual painting. Not in my whole trip here and back had I ever touched the painting.

"It felt darker then last time in that room. There was still nobody home. I set my candle on the table and looked up at that blank spot on the wall above the mantle where the painting had been. I remember climbing that mantle, holding the... holding the painting in front of me. At some point I had to twist around so I was facing away from the wall. And that's when I slipped. I placed my foot wrong somewhere, I think, and I suddenly lost my balance. I instinctually tried to catch myself on the painting below me, and in doing so, I went to place my hand on the actual canvas. I was worried, at the time, that I would break it, that my hand would go right through."

He seems to take a while to figure out how to say this next bit.

"My hand, however, never hit the canvas. I had my eyes closed for a period of time, and I didn't see what happened — but I remember gasping, and feeling my heart skip a beat, as I could feel myself fall farther than I should have been able to. The air around me went colder, and I felt light on my skin, and behind my eyelids. I continued to plummet until I felt my other hand desperately get a hold on to something." He covers his face in his hands. "My eyes were closed for that entire time, but knowing what I know now I can picture it. I can picture exactly what had happened."

He shivers.

"I had fallen through the painting.

"When I opened my eyes, I wasn't in the same room anymore. I was... I was surrounded, on all sides, by a sea of golden clouds looming like mountains in the distance. And then I was there, in the middle of it all, dangling by one hand, from a tiny, floating picture frame.

"When I looked down, there was nothing. No ground, just an obscene drop into oblivion. There was nothing else there but me and the clouds. I..."

He doesn't say anything for a while. Whenever he opens his mouth, as if to speak, he abruptly shuts it again. Eventually, he manages to say something.

"You can't... You can't comprehend what it was like, in there. I was in a place bigger than I had ever seen before. There were clouds there that were more massive than I had ever even attempted to comprehend. I was like a speck in an unknown spot of the universe. A spot that continues forever, that had no beginning, and will have no end. I carried that despicable painting the whole way here and back without knowing, without even knowing what it contained. It's not right for such a place to exist.

"I was so afraid of losing my grip, of falling into that abyss, of feeling my own weightlessness as I dropped, and of the frame receding away until I couldn't see. You can't imagine. I can't..." He pauses for a moment, seemingly unsatisfied with himself. "I can't describe it. I can't."

She tries to place a hand on his shoulder, reassuringly. "I... I think I understand."

"No, you don't." He says, firmly. "You haven't seen the painting. You haven't been inside it. How could you possibly understand? How could you understand anything? You just sit in your ivory tower and collect things others have left behind for you, things which you have no experience of, and yet you pretend that you comprehend anything of which you talk about."

He turns away briskly. They sit in silence for a moment. Eventually, he slowly turns back and looks at the ground.

"I eventually got out. It was horrible. It was like crawling through a window. I don't know how long I had been in there. I don't think I care. It could've been minutes or days. How could such a place possibly care for such a measly thing as time?

"I sat in the floor of the living room for several minutes after, looking around. I described it like this last time, but I mean it now. Everything felt different in there. Everything was unfamiliar, as if, as if the uncanniness of the painting had spread to everything around me. Nothing's... Nothing's felt familiar since. Everything feels off." He glances briefly at the window blinds. "I can't stand to see the sky any more. It reminds me too much of that place.

"I remember feeling, as I sat, that that room felt like the entire universe. That there was nothing outside but an endless dark." He pauses for a moment, and then starts chuckling softly. "It was New Year's Eve that night, wasn't it? It was bloody New Year's Eve. I didn't even realise. When I looked back at the painting, I felt so... so... Ugh, god. It's this horrible feeling. You feel like you're in awe, but you're absolutely disgusted at the same time. I didn't think. I just drew my knife and swung it in front of me.

"In my mind, that thing still looked like a window. I couldn't imagine it as anything close to a painting anymore.

"And yet, as my knife cut across it, the thing split in two."

He doesn't talk after that. Neither does belle know what to say.

So they just sit in silence.

---

A month has passed. Belle sits in her office, thinking. Cillian had since returned to his studies, but Marlin said he still never seemed fully present.

And he hadn't come back to Artefact Storage since.

She had had an artist try to recreate the painting just how Cillian had described it. When he saw it, he said it wasn't right. It now hangs in the Vidius Gallery, in absence of the real thing.

But what really occupies her mind at the moment is what Cillian had said to her. He said that she couldn't understand. Not that she didn't, but that she couldn't.

She thinks she gets what Cillian meant.

She had never seen the painting that she had heard so much about. She finds herself regretful of that fact, but reckons that, if she had ever actually seen the painting, then she never would've had Cillian return it.

[shellcollector]

Why are cat purrs so great? It never gets old that they make this fantastic sound! I feel like I should have got to a stage in both life and cat ownership where I can act all Cool about this but no! I’m still like !!! every time.

[tyonfs]

dress up.

❝ i was trying on something. could you tell me if you like it? ❞

PAIRING ▸ mark lee x reader

WARNINGS ▸ dirty talk, raw sex (pls use protection), overstimulation

WORD COUNT ▸ 2000 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ this was a request from anon for a frat boy!mark smut! i sort of ran with it, but i love mark lee so it was fun to write ♡

IN RETROSPECT, MARK WAS A BIT OF A CLICHE.

Being a frat boy, athlete, and unfortunately, a bit of a heartbreaker, it was inevitable that he would be classified as bad news. Add you to the equation and he was the physical manifestation of a typical rom-com trope. He figured it was supposed to be you chasing after him, but the fact that it was the other way around took a slight blow to his confidence.

But that didn’t stop him from pursuing you.

And here he was, anticipating your presence on a Friday night at a frat party. He hung onto some false sense of hope that kept him from consuming any alcohol, despite Taeyong and Johnny’s attempts to get him to drink. You and Mark had been flirting for a while now, but neither of you had made a move on each other. Mark was hoping that would change tonight.

“C’mon, Ma-ark,” his friend, Na Jaemin, slurred. “You gotta let loose. Take a shot with me.”

“Jaemin, you’re sloshed, dude. Also, I won’t until—”

A notification flashed across his phone screen, the banner name displaying your name. Mark’s cheeks heated up, his mouth going dry as he stared at his phone for a moment. He turned it off and then on again, checking to make sure the notification was real. He sank back into the couch to make sure only he had eyes on his phone screen.

you: mark

you: you up?

mark: of course. what’s up?

you: i was trying on something

you: could you tell me if you like it?

mark: oh fuck

mark: yeah, go ahead

A few minutes passed by and Mark’s heart was racing. He stared at the texts again, wondering if this was really happening, then cringing at the realization that he had actually sent an “oh fuck” when it was supposed to be confined to his thoughts. Without giving Mark any warning or time to brace himself, you sent the picture.

There was something about mirror pictures that drove Mark crazy. Seeing you posing in front of a full-length mirror with black lingerie hugging your curves and a mini pleated skirt that barely covered the swell of your ass was giving him a hard-on. He wasn’t sure he could contain himself and this shocking development between you two was messing with him.

Mark grabbed a pillow from the couch and placed it shamefully on his lap. No one was paying attention to him anyways, but he had to take extra precautions.

mark: fuck are you wearing that rn?

mark: god, you’re driving me crazy

you: if that’s the case then why don’t you come over?

mark: now?

you: you know where my apartment is

you: i’ll be waiting ♡

Mark got up in an instant and made his way to the door. He had to have saved someone in his past life for this sort of luck. He was caught up in disbelief that you, the girl of his dreams, had made a move on him. There were plenty of girls that Mark had gotten caught up with in the past, but none of them had ever made his heart race like you did.

Johnny stopped Mark before he got to the door, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Whoa, where are you running off to?”

“Oh, shit, I forgot to ask.” Mark grinned, insufferably cocky. “Do you have a condom?”

Johnny’s eyes practically sparkled, digging into his pockets upon his best friend’s request. “Attaboy.”

You looked straight out of one of Mark’s fantasies when you opened the door and let him in. It wasn’t even the short skirt or the lingerie peeking through that got to him. What sent him over the edge was Mark’s sweater over your body; it was oversized on you, but Mark knew it looked better on you than it ever could on him. Mark had given it to you a few weeks ago when you were cold, but he never expected to be the one taking it off of you.

“Hey, frat boy,” you teased, then pouted lightly. “I’m sorry for making you wait so long.”

Mark snapped out of his daze and walked in the apartment as you closed the door behind him. “Wait?”

You tugged at the hem of his shirt and Mark took the cue. He grabbed the back of his shirt at the nape, tugging it off and tossing it to some corner of the room, exposing his bare chest and abs. He let out a hiss through gritted teeth as you ran your hands down his chest and to his belt.

“Wait for me,” you explained. “I just wanted to get you so worked up so you could ruin me.”

That was all Mark needed to hear.

He picked you up effortlessly and brought you to your bed, dropping you down on it and crawling on top of you. He caged your frame with his larger one and crashed his lips onto yours. It was messy and rushed, but so full of passion and longing. Mark poured out his emotions and frustration into kissing you, running his hands down your gorgeous body as you arched your back against him.

“God, I’ve been wanting to do this for months,” he growled when he pulled from the kiss, moving his lips down to your neck. When he heard a soft moan escape your lips, he started sucking harsher, blooming dark hickies along the side of your neck. “I’m gonna make you wish you never made me wait.”

You wrapped a leg around his torso, which he appreciated, if a smooth roll of his hips was anything to go by. But you wanted more—more contact and more friction. You curled your fingers in his belt loops and pulled him down on you.

Mark sat up, pulling you up along with him. He adored your beauty for a moment before tugging his sweater up and off of you. A grunt escaped his lips at the sight of your body, lace lingerie still hugging it. He stuttered out a curse before he kissed you again, tugging your skirt down your legs, which you kicked off.

“Leave the lingerie on,” he ordered, a hungry look in his eyes. He slid his finger underneath the strap along your thigh and snapped it, making you wince. “I can’t let all your efforts go to waste after you dressed up for me, doll.”

“Please, Mark,” you begged, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I want you to stuff your cock in me.”

Mark went to take off his pants in less than a second. You watched him strip down, his bulge not doing much to hide the fact that he was huge. You realized that that cockiness of his is completely warranted. You helped him tug his boxers down, a soft gasp escaping your lips when his cock sprung out, slapping against belly.

Mark gazed into your eyes as he slid his hand up your thigh, making his way to the apex of your legs. He tugged your panties to the side, delighted at how it clung to you. He’d truly be a happy man if he could have you underneath him every day for the rest of his life. Mark slid two fingers against your slit, smirking at how wet you were already.

“Is this for me?” he cooed as your hips bucked up into his touch.

You nodded, eager to just have him in you. You were all for foreplay, but your walls were throbbing with how much pent-up sexual frustration you were experiencing. There were so many opportunities after tonight, but right now, you needed Mark.

Mark suspended himself over you, propping himself up with an arm. He hooked his fingers under the elastic of your panties and teased your slit with the head of his cock. A whimper escaped your lips.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked.

You pressed a kiss to the column of his neck. “Of course.”

Mark’s Adam’s apple bobbed; he was nervous. He was about to fuck the girl of his dreams, so how could he possibly be calm? But when you gave him that dazzling smile of yours, his heart thundered in his chest. He needed you.

He slowly entered you, eyes fixed on your face with rapt attention, indulging in the expressions you were making. For someone so sly and teasing, you had become pliant under his grasp, like a handful of clay that Mark could mould into his own liking.

“Mark,” you whined in an almost depraved way.

“Fuck,” he groaned once he was fully inside of you, your walls pulsating around him.

He started at a languid pace so he could adjust to you. To his satisfaction, you were vocal during sex; you moaned, whimpered, and gasped out Mark’s name whenever he thrusted into you. You were also so damn tight that the slightest movement made you tighten around Mark’s cock.

He held your thighs with a bruising grip as you pressed your breasts up against his chest. Your head went fuzzy as Mark pounded into that one spot mercilessly. But god, the way he growled out your name under his breath as your hips slapped against each other each time was sending you over the edge.

Your nails dug into his back, leaving trails of white-hot pain that compelled Mark into thrusting harder into you. He grinned, a little unhinged, and sped up at the encouragement of your moans. The way he looked at you when he thrusted, though, was so fragile; he found you so heartbreakingly gorgeous, and it didn’t help that he was falling deeper and deeper in love with you.

“Mark!” you cried as you were reaching your high.

He could get lost in the way his name tumbled from your lips. He slowed down his thrusts in exchange for deeper ones that brought you closer to your climax. Mark kissed you again, slower and more passionate. It was somewhat out of place given the magnitude of what you two were doing, but it confirmed for you that he didn’t just want you for sex.

You squealed out his name again, the pressure blinding you. You clenched around him as you came undone, shooting stars flashing behind your eyelids. Mark fucked you through your orgasm without any semblance of mercy. You crooned out a few broken moans, eyes half-lidded as you held onto Mark, your release dripping down his cock.

“Look at me,” he ordered, dark eyes clouding over. He could hardly keep his release at bay, but when you looked up at him with those innocent, doe-like eyes, it became impossible. “God, are you even real? You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

Mark gritted his teeth, a strangled groan leaving his throat as he pulled out and released over you. His cum spilled over your thighs, staining the lingerie you had worn just for him. Mark was completely out of breath so he collapsed next to you, rolling over so he could hold you in his arms. You happily complied, cuddling up to his warmth.

“Please don’t let that be a one-time thing,” Mark murmured in your ear, brushing aside strands of your hair.

“Maybe if you let me be your girlfriend,” you said with a smile, making Mark go wide-eyed.

“Really?” He couldn’t conceal the happiness behind his words.

“On one condition, though,” you said, closing your eyes as that feeling of his cum between your thighs. You reached for his pants that he had strewn aside beside you and reached into the pocket, pulling out the condom that Johnny had given him. “Use this next time.”

“Shit,” Mark mumbled.

You giggled at his reaction, but Mark only smiled brighter, embracing you tightly in his arms. He pressed a kiss against your forehead, cheek, and then your lips. He was a pure romantic when it came down to it, especially when it came to you.

“I also have a condition,” he said.

“Yeah?” you mused. “What is it?”

“Dress up for me next time.”

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Truce

Requested by @minaslittleone : Wilhemina + “I know you've got a little life in you left, I know you've got a lot of strength left” from This Woman’s Work.

E., I love this exchange of dark headcanons we don’t want to write 😆😭 I decided to write this one from reader’s pov for protection xx

Word count: 4 000

In retrospect, surely you should have realized right from the start that something was very wrong. But that’s not how you processed bad things. You denied them, refused to acknowledge their existence, until they had no other choice but to slap you right across your face. Sometimes it would take days. Sometimes it was much quicker.

But deep down, you had known something was off the moment you had closed the front door behind you. It was a Friday, 6pm or so, and you had just come back from a week-long work trip across the country. You were exhausted, mentally and physically, and yet the sweet prospect of seeing Wilhemina again made your heart sing and feel like you could very well hike a mountain. But there had been no Wilhemina coming to meet you as she always, always would, fighting a smile, trying to look indifferent but melting into your arms and peppering your face with kisses. No Wilhemina to take off your coat and ask you how your trip had been and to slip a mug of your favorite tea in your hands.

Instead, the house had been awfully quiet. Wilhemina’s shoes lay on the floor in their usual place. You called out her name, trying not to sound too worried. You crossed the living room in a hurry, so you didn’t notice the unwashed dishes in the sink, or the disarranged pillows on the couch. Or maybe you did, but refused to acknowledge them. It was only later, when the sun was setting and you scrubbed the dishes yourself, and fluffed the pillows before rearranging them the way Wilhemina liked them to be, that the implication of them, the reality they told of, hit you in the face. You shoved it where it couldn’t speak.

Wilhemina was lying in bed with her eyes closed, and when you asked her if she was feeling alright, she only answered with a curt “I’m tired.” You sat worriedly by her side, gently stroking her arm. You couldn’t remember the last time she had said those words. You couldn’t remember the last time she had looked so defeated. Dread had tightened your chest. But you had denied it all, as you always did, and let it pass. You had pressed a gentle kiss on Wilhemina’s temple, and asked her if she wanted to eat something – a shake of her head -, then told her you would make something for yourself and take a shower very quickly before you joined her in bed.

And you had been so very tired yourself that it hadn’t taken long at all to fall asleep. You had put your arms around Wilhemina and held her close and decided that in the morning everything would be alright.

Except now, here you were, sitting on your own at the kitchen table, unable to swallow your breakfast as you kept worriedly glancing at the clock whose hands neared 10am. And still Wilhemina wasn’t up.

Even on the weekends, she would rarely linger in bed past 9am, as she hated feeling like she was wasting a day. It would take much coaxing to have her back in your arms when you felt like being lazy on a Sunday morning.  

You sat still, staring at your toasts that were cold now. You didn’t feel like eating. Worry was lodged deep in your stomach and made you feel nauseous. But still you told yourself, that maybe Wilhemina hadn’t slept much during the past week, had stayed up late to work with no one to call her to bed, and was in great need of rest. Surely she would join you soon, grumpy because you had let her sleep in, and you would smile at her and kiss her lips and she would hold you as you told her all about your trip.

The clock ticked so loud in the silence, mocking you. It sounded like it was laughing.

At 10:30am the worry got the best of you. You stood up and hurried to the bedroom. You knocked on the door and waited for two seconds before you opened it.

The room was still dark, shutters still closed against the light. You kept the door open to let some light from the corridor in. It showed Wilhemina’s shape, still in bed, her back to you, the comforter pulled up to her waist.

For a second you considered calling her name to determine whether she was still asleep. But the dread in your stomach tugged you onward before you had time to take a decision.

Carefully you settled on the narrow space between the edge of the bed and Wilhemina’s body. You brushed her hair back from her cheek so you could take a look at her face.

“Hey baby,” you whispered. You forced yourself to smile, knowing she would hear it in your voice.

Wilhemina’s eyes had been half-opened, staring vacantly at the darkness. Upon hearing your voice, they briefly moved in your direction, as if to acknowledge your presence.

You rested your hand on her shoulder, thumb gently stroking her skin.

“Are you feeling sick?” you tried.

Wilhemina remained silent.

“Do you want me to bring you something?” you tried again. “A cup of tea? Are you hungry?”

More silence. Worriedly you bent over her, hand now stroking her hair. It was uncharacteristically greasy, you noticed, and your fingers when you slipped them through it caught in several tight knots.

You swallowed, hoping it would somehow prevent the dread from spreading through you. Part of you was still cowardly trying to turn a blind eye on the situation, trying to pretend you had not already connected all the dots.

You pressed another kiss on Wilhemina’s temple. “I’m bringing you tea,” you announced.

You pretended not to hurry out of the room. You needed out for a moment, away from the darkness that seemed to be clinging to your skin, from the stale air of the bedroom, from Wilhemina’s vacant eyes and hunched frame. Your brain went numb. It was either that, or yielding to panic.

On auto-pilot you made the tea, Wilhemina’s favorite, a whole kettle of it. You put the kettle down on a tray with a cup and some biscuits, knowing perfectly well she wouldn’t touch them. Just to pretend.

When you came back to yourself, you found you were staring down at the kettle, hands on either side of the tray. You closed your eyes for a second and forced yourself to take a few deep breaths.

But Wilhemina was always so strong, you thought. Always pushing on, always fighting her on-going battle against her body and the norms and never showing even the tiniest sign of defeat to the outside world. In all the months of dating her, you had gained the sense that somehow she was holding the world together as a commander holds an army together. If she failed, if she as much as slackened her grip, the whole world would collapse, and you with it. You couldn’t imagine living in a world where Wilhemina wasn’t this strong, indestructible force protecting you and strengthening you.

And yet, you thought, as you made your way back to the bedroom, carefully holding the tray, she was bound to fail one day or the other. She was bound to grow weary. And it would be your job to help her back up onto her feet.

You weren’t sure you knew how. And yet you must, you scolded yourself, as you entered the bedroom. You couldn’t run away when Wilhemina needed you.

You set the tray on the bedside table and sat down on the bed again. “Sweetheart,” you tried, “will you sit up for me?”

Wilhemina had closed her eyes upon hearing the new determination in your voice, to try and block you. She didn’t acknowledge your presence, didn’t answer you.

You stared down at her shadowed frame, mind racing as you tried to think of what to do. Tears pooled in your eyes at the sight of her like this, looking so weak and defeated, looking so wrong – you shook your head to chase the thought.

You thought of what would usually help her when she wasn’t feeling good. Remembered all the hesitant touches, all the scooting closer, fingertips brushing your arm, eyes silently pleading to be held.

You stood up and stripped to your underwear so Wilhemina would feel your skin, then nestled in the narrow space available between her body and the edge of the bed.

You didn’t speak. Merely wrapped your arms around her waist and pressed yourself against her, dropping a kiss on the nape of her neck. She didn’t stiffen, or push you away – in fact, she didn’t react in the slightest, and you wondered if she was aware of your presence at all.

The familiarity of her quieted some of the racing thoughts in your mind. Heat quickly built up between your bodies, wrapping you up in a cocoon, and you found yourself wishing that you could build your own world in it, only exist in it, with Wilhemina pressed against you and you pressed against her and nothing else allowed in. To be the architect of your own world and have a say on even the tiniest speck of dust that wafted through it. You wished it could be that easy.

Gently you planted kisses on Wilhemina’s shoulder and neck, your thumb stroking her wrist to ground her in case she needed it. You closed your eyes and focused on her breathing, slow and deep. One breath in, one breath out.

In, out.

You must have dozed off, for when you opened your eyes again, the light filtering through the gaps in the shutters had the brightness of noon. You were still in the exact same position, spooning Wilhemina, but your arm that was trapped between her waist and the mattress had gone completely numb.

With a groan at the unpleasant sensation you pulled away and withdrew your arm. Wilhemina immediately stiffened. You pressed a kiss on her temple to let her know you weren’t going anywhere, and sat up, rolling your shoulder and arm to improve your blood circulation. Your other hand gently stroked Wilhemina’s hair as a reminder that you were still here, still with her. Not running away.

Slowly you slid your fingers through her hair, working through the knots and grazing your nails over her scalp. You had done this before, hundreds of time, had whispered into her ear how beautiful her hair was and how you would never get enough of stroking it and brushing it and twirling strands of it around your fingers. Wilhemina had rolled her eyes, but a chuckle had escaped her, warm and affectionate. She had buried her face in your neck, as she did every time you were cuddling and she didn’t quite know how to handle your compliments. And certainly you had hummed and smiled knowingly, holding her head to you, fingers still threading through the red.

You looked down at her and gently scratched above her ear.

“Will you drink some tea for me?” you whispered. “It’s probably cold now, but you like it cold too.”

Silence. Your chest tightening.

“When was the last time you had water?” you heard yourself say. “Did you drink yesterday before you went to bed?”

Silence. More silence.

Fear rose in you again, hot and wrapping around your heart to squeeze, making your ears buzz, your vision swim. You shifted on the bed just so you could do something, skimmed your palm down Wilhemina’s cheek.

“Sweetheart please – please say something. Wilhemina you’re scaring me. Please, just –”

You didn’t finish, because your voice was quivering and tears were threatening to spill, and you had promised yourself you would be strong for her. Not this pathetic, helpless little girl. So you closed your eyes, pushed your palm against your forehead as you tried to regain control over the fear that threatened to overthrow you. You didn’t know what to do anymore. Call for help? Pace the room like a madwoman? Shake Wilhemina until she finally came back and snapped at you?

You didn’t know. Panicking seemed like the best option right now.

Instead, you ran your fingers through Wilhemina’s hair and forced your voice back under control. “What’s wrong?” you whispered, as tenderly as you could. “Please talk to me. I love you.”

For a while she kept on being silent, and your heart broke and sunk, and panic roared and jumped, but then - blessedly, blissfully - her voice rose, raspy and shaky from disuse.

“I’m so tired,” was what she said.

You bent over her, sweet relief rushing over you now that she was finally willing to communicate. Your hand moved to her forehead. “Are you feeling sick?”

She shook her head. She opened her eyes and again stared at the darkness in front of her.

“Sweetheart,” you pushed on, “maybe if you tried to eat or drink something –”

“What’s the point?” Wilhemina cut you off – her voice wasn’t angry, but instead completely devoid of emotion, as if she were too exhausted to feel. “If I drink your tea now and go to sleep tonight and get up tomorrow morning there’ll only be more pain. And pain again the day after. I’m so tired.”

You allowed yourself a minute to process her words. To embrace their full implication. It felt like a kick in your stomach, and yet it also made you feel calmer. For now that you had received confirmation of what was wrong, now that you knew the face of the enemy you had to defeat, you could think of an efficient plan and pick the appropriate weapons.

You pressed a tender kiss on Wilhemina’s cheek, but it only seemed to revive her anger.

“People like you have it so easy,” she said, her voice bitter now, and quivering. “All you do is wake up and begin your day and cry over your stupid little problems while being too dumb to realize how insignificant they really are. If you had to face a challenge more arduous than a lunch break that’s too short your whole fucking world would collapse.”

She paused to take a shaky breath. You waited for her to go on, blinking back tears but knowing you had to let her speak, to let her let it out no matter if it hurt.

But Wilhemina didn’t go on. The fight flowed out of her as quickly as it had flowed in. Her body sank back into the mattress, limp and drained, eyes closing as if keeping them open was too much of an effort.

And again, your heart sank. Automatically you wrapped one arm around her shoulders to press her close against you, as if somehow that would rescue her, as if she was drowning and all you had to do to save her was pull her back to the surface.

Images flashed in your mind. Wilhemina, carefully sitting up in bed every morning, ritually assessing the day’s degree of pain. You, trying not to make it too obvious that you would shorten your walks every time you noticed a change in Wilhemina’s gait. Strangers and friends, their eyes falling on her cane, then quickly shifting to the floor.

There were days you weren’t very successful in hiding the worry and sadness in your eyes or voice when Wilhemina’s breathing became labored. There were days she wasn’t very successful in hiding the fact that the most common of things – a stranger’s dress, a stranger swiftly standing up from their chair, sometimes nothing at all – would turn her attention back to the curve of her spine. And how she would hate herself.

You couldn’t even begin to imagine how draining her constant fighting must be, how lonely she must feel, carrying a burden most people never even had to think about. There had been times before when the fight had gone out of her, when her eyes had veiled over and her body had slumped and she had refused to speak or move, but those times had always been short. In the morning she had gotten up as usual and made ready to face a new day. And you had found that the best way you could help her in those moments was simply to accept them, to quietly support her and hold her as you waited for her to find her strength again.

But today – today was different. Today you feared she didn’t think it was worth finding it at all.

“Sweetheart,” you whispered, “there are so many things worth you keep fighting for.”

Wilhemina let out a low growl of annoyance. “If you say the sunset I’ll hit you.”

You shook your head, gently rubbing your thumb around a freckle on her arm. “I won’t. But it’s true. My darling, it’s true.”

“I don’t care,” Wilhemina said.

You kept on stroking her arm, encouraged and enlivened when she leaned into your touch rather than pulled away.

“And besides”, you went on, “I want to love you. And I need you,” you added, with a sad laugh. “Is that very selfish of me?”

“I don’t know,” Wilhemina sobbed.

You cooed and pressed another kiss on her temple. Wilhemina curled in on herself, hiding her face in her hands as she cried. You closed your eyes, pushing your forehead against hers, heart breaking for her but also so very relieved that she was finally showing emotion instead of her earlier numbness.

“I don’t want to keep fighting,” Wilhemina choked. “I don’t see the point anymore.”

“Ok,” you breathed, voice a little strangled by fear. You lay down so you could hold her closer, pretending not to notice how your hands were shaking and your heart beating so fast now.

And as you slowly rocked her and shushed her, you stopped trying to find the right words that would lift her up, for you were no longer convinced those existed. Instead, you let her sink.  

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” you whispered. “You can take a break. I won’t leave you.”

When Wilhemina had calmed down, you got up and opened the shutters and the window to let the sunlight, fresh air and birdsongs in. Then you hurried back to bed and held Wilhemina in your arms.

She slept through most of the day. In the evening you managed to convince her to take a shower with you. You washed her hair, lathered her skin.

The next day was spent in bed, too. Wilhemina slept. You read a book and read to her when she woke up. You highlighted the passages you found beautiful and asked Wilhemina which were her favorites. You highlighted those, too. She agreed to eat something, for you, and you held her to you when she suddenly broke down halfway through finishing her plate.

On Monday you called your respective bosses to let them know Wilhemina and you were taking the whole week off. Wilhemina still wouldn’t get out of bed, so you read some more to her, one hand holding the book and the other holding her. When you were both bored of reading, you played some of Wilhemina’s favorite records. She lay listening to the music with her eyes closed and her arm draped over your waist. In the evening you ordered food and Wilhemina and you ate it in bed while watching a movie.

On Tuesday and Wednesday, she barely spoke. She lay with a vacant look in her eyes that would only fracture when she sobbed and wailed in your arms. She refused to take her painkillers. At one point you hid in the bathroom and bit your fist to hold back your screams.

On Thursday, Wilhemina got out of bed and together you walked to the nearest park to sit on a bench in the sun and people-watch. On Friday night you woke up panting and with your mind haunted by images of Wilhemina lying lifeless on a tile floor. She gathered you in her arms and rocked you as you clang to her and sobbed and begged her never to leave you.

The week after that was spent mostly in bed, too, but on Wednesday Wilhemina changed and washed the sheets. You hung them outside to dry in the sun.

Your bosses complained. You decided you didn’t care and hung up on them.

One afternoon, for no reasons it seemed, Wilhemina suddenly turned cold and mean to you, and it took you a few hours to realize she was terrified and angry that she had let you see her in such a vulnerable state. You said it was okay. She said she wasn’t sure you were worth it. Her words hurt you more than you would have liked to admit.

You grew silent after that. You did the laundry and vacuumed the house to keep yourself busy and drown out your thoughts. Part of you wanted to turn on your heel and slam the door behind you. To leave, to run away if Wilhemina thought so little of you. Just as you were thinking that surely it was the right thing to do, Wilhemina called your name. She made you sit down on the bed next to her, held your hand, and apologized. She explained she was terrified. You nodded, blinking back tears, and gave her hand a squeeze.

The day after that was spent in bed, too, but a new, timid feeling of happiness settled on the sheet. You planted kisses on each other’s skin, exchanged renewed confessions of love and devotion and made love for the first time since you had come back from your trip. You held her tight as she shook against you, and she cooed as you choked on her tongue, clenching around her fingers and forgetting for a moment everything that wasn’t sweet and warm and love. You dozed off, and when you opened your eyes again, Wilhemina’s were smiling.

On Thursday she announced she was going back to work. You grinned at her, kissed her senseless, and managed to convince her to take it slow and wait till the next Monday. She protested at first, said she couldn’t even imagine how Kineros hadn’t yet collapsed without her, but you raised a cheeky eyebrow and said you rather loved having her all to yourself. She rolled her eyes at that, but was betrayed by the faint blush that dusted her cheeks.

That night you found her sitting in the garden gazing at the stars with a sad, overwhelmed look in her eyes. You draped a blanket over her shoulders, snuggled up to her and nudged her shoulder with your nose.

“Are you okay?” you breathed, looking up at her profile.

Still, she gazed at the stars. “I don’t know,” she breathed back.

You hummed and nestled your head in the crook of her neck.

“I never said thank you,” Wilhemina whispered after a few moments.

You hummed again.

“So, thank you,” she said.

“Anytime,” you whispered, reaching for her hand.

“Take it slow on Monday, okay?” you said after a moment.

Wilhemina made a disapproving noise, but nodded.

“And call me,” you went on. “If you feel overwhelmed.”

Another nod. She laced her fingers with yours and lifted your hand to press lingering kisses on your knuckles in an attempt to distract you, as well as herself, from the tears pooling in her eyes.

“One day at a time,” you breathed. “It’s really all we can do.” 

Tag list: @mssallymckenna @supremeinlilac @pluied-ete @rainbow-hedgehog @pearplate @angelxsarahp @paulawand @asktammyr @peggycarter-steverogers   @coconutlipss  @saucy-sapphic @thesupremewife @paulsonpills @billiedeansbottom @lilypadscoven @winslctrg @simpforpaulson @venablesgirl @mckennamayfairgoode  @ka-s @lntlmate @talulahmae @mrsdeanhoward

[09kags]

Happy Haikyuu Day! 

Sorry for the bad quality first off T^T I keep having to resize these so that they’re smaller for Tumblr and it ruins the quality. But more importantly, happy Haikyuu day! (at least it is Japan already!) This edit embodies some of my favorite moments within the series and below, I’ve written some of the thoughts that went into this piece/my feelings on these moments! Manga spoilers ahead (I'm pretty sure I’ve kept them to a minimum but just to be sure, please proceed with caution!), and I hope you enjoy this edit! (Overlays: accio-glow, aulia-chan on dA; PSDs: hurtears, hallyumi, yangyanggg on dA) 1. “Today might finally be the day we get the chance to let our talents bloom… it could be tomorrow. Or maybe next year. Or maybe it’ll finally come when we’re 30. I’m not sure if physique has anything to do with it but I do know for sure that if you don’t believe that day will come, it never will.” This quote is a testament to Oikawa’s growth and is a symbolic representation of Oikawa freeing himself from the shackles of “geniuses” and “prodigies.” So what if your opponent is a genius? So what if they possess more innate talent? As his mentor and inspiration Jose Blanco states, “Are you saying you know what the limits of your abilities are already? Even though you aren’t yet finished growing physically or mentally? Even though you haven’t mastered all the skills you can master? If you’re going to complain that someone with more talent than you will always be better than you… no matter how hard you work, how many tricks you learn and how many great teammates you have… do that only after you’ve given everything the very best effort you have.” There will always be someone better in the world. But to claim that you cannot hope to compare to the likes of them is to resign yourself to a predetermined defeat as well as dismiss both your own efforts and theirs.    There’s no guarantee when your efforts will pay off. As Oikawa declares, it may be today, tomorrow, or even when we’re 30.  But if you don’t believe in yourself first, if you don’t believe that you will bloom in your own time, “that day will never come.”  The flower in the background is the iris. It is known to represent trust, faith, and hope amongst many other ideals. I chose this particular flower because of the manga cap used in this panel. I cannot emphasize how much I love the bond between Oikawa and Iwaizumi, especially this particular moment when Oikawa points at Iwaizumi with such authority and determination as if saying, “This ball, this moment, is meant for you.” Not to mention the pairing with the iconic “Talent is something you make bloom, instinct is something you hone” quote. An absolutely masterful sequence of scenes that always gets my blood rushing. 

2. “Don’t look down! Volleyball is a sport where you’re always looking up!” This moment gives me chills every time. It’s something so fundamental and simple and yet, when Ukai yells this,  it instills that feeling of “You can do it.” It makes my heart flutter and I feel so excited because it’s such a beautiful way of saying “Don’t give up, it’s not over yet.” And even if the ball has dropped for the last time or you have lost this match, there’s always tomorrow. There’s always the next match where you’ll have to look up. This quote gives me the same feeling as when Takeda-sensei says, “For the rest of your lives, you can do anything you set your mind to!” You only truly lose when you stop trying or you give up.  3. “It hurts. I’m tired. This is painful. I don’t want this to ever end.” / “The ball hasn’t dropped yet!” Whenever Haikyuu characters say “Just one more!” or “The ball hasn’t dropped yet!”, the tension and desperation is almost palpable. It’s so incredibly moving to see them strive to save that ball just one more time, to focus purely on what is in front of them. Even if they don’t all pursue volleyball as a professional career, the passion they all have for the sport is real. That sort of passion is beautiful to watch and admire, and I wish I could have that kind of passion for something in my life.  4. “The underhand only uses two hands. The overhand uses 10 fingers. That’s all the more to support your spikers with, which is what it means to be a setter.” / “To cut through the wall that looms before your spikers, that is the purpose of a setter.”  This particular panel depicts the two ideologies of Atsumu and Kageyama respectively, two of my favorite setters and characters in general. Atsumu “may be pretty cocky at times, and overwhelm his teammates with his thirst for victory, but he treats his spikers with more sincerity and selflessness than anyone else.” He may be overbearing and an asshole at times, but his love for the sport and the art of being a setter is second to none. On the other hand, there’s Kageyama who’s so damn cool with his one-liners. Kageyama’s passion and drive to win may blind him to his surroundings and teammates but he truly believes that the setter is the one who clears the path for their spikers. When their spikers feel cornered and the walls are closing in, it is the setter who “cuts through the wall that looms” ahead. The old Kageyama who was a prisoner to speed is no longer, and his growth as a player brings me to tears every time.  5. “Someone once asked me, ‘Do you ever feel bitter over the fact that you’re not a regular on the team, and amongst your juniors there’s a genius to boot?’ I never understood the exact definition of what it was to be a genius to begin with, but upon hearing the question, I understood the general gist of what they were getting at.  Every so often there will be someone who thinks that ‘people like Atsumu’ were ‘good’ from the get-go. But the thing is, if I practiced something from 1-10 every day, then people like Atsumu would have done it from 1-20. Or, they would have done the same 10 but in a more efficient or concentrated manner. They might also ask ‘Instead of doing it 1-10, how about I tried it from A-Z, what would happen then? Now doesn’t that sound interesting?’  They’re the kind of people who think about stuff like that. Even if they fail, even if they are hated and get ostracised by others, no matter whether they’re right or they’re wrong, even if they subvert something the rest of us hold in high regard, they’re the kind of people who can’t sit still without giving it a go. Even if they start coughing up blood from their lungs, they’re the kind of people who want to keep on running, no matter what.  There’s going to be a lot of people in this world who make you go ‘Wow, I’ll never be able to defeat them,’ and it’s only natural that you think they’re amazing people. I think that to be able to keep charging ahead is a talent in and of itself. You can call people like them whatever you like, the term ‘genius’ isn’t exactly an insult. That said, to think they were ‘good from the get go’ is to condemn yourself to a predetermined defeat without even playing a match against them, and I also think it’s very rude.”  This quote, hands down, is one of my favorite quotes of all time. It is not genius or natural talent that makes individuals truly great, but it is grit. Without a doubt, people are not born equal. There will always be someone with more innate talent or latent capabilities. We all begin at different starting lines. But those who truly stand out are those who go the extra mile, like those dubbed to be the Monster Generation (Kageyama, Atsumu, Hinata, Bokuto, Ushijima, Oikawa, etc.). To others they may seem like natural prodigies but behind their flawless technique and precise ball control lies countless hours of training. They trained harder than anyone else, sacrificed in order to hone their abilities, and ran farther than the rest of the pack. They’re the type to fixate on what lies before them without much regard to anything else.They eat, sleep, breathe, and live volleyball with every waking second. They’re always trying new things (Atsumu pulling off the freak duo quick in the middle of the Inarizaki match) and continually looking for ways to improve (“But the thing is, if I practiced something from 1-10 every day, then people like Atsumu would have done it from 1-20. Or, they would have done the same 10 but in a more efficient or concentrated manner. They might also ask ‘Instead of doing it 1-10, how about I tried it from A-Z, what would happen then? Now doesn’t that sound interesting?’ They’re the kind of people who think about stuff like that”; Kageyama keeping a volleyball journal). It is not what they were born with that makes them great; it is their overwhelming desire to win.  6. “‘Yesterday’ has already disappeared behind us. Many, many yesterdays have become a part of our muscles. What shall we do, today?” This quote, chills. There’s no point ruminating about the past or what has already passed; you can’t change it. (In retrospect, I wish I included another quote from Inarizaki in this panel: “One time is enough. We rise to the challenges of today.”) You learn from the mistakes of yesterday and use them as stepping stones for tomorrow. I wish I could eloquently phrase how much I love this quote or my interpretation of it but alas, my writing is fancy Garbage.  7. “But if… just if… that moment comes for you, that will be the moment you really get hooked on volleyball.” If you didn’t get chills when Tsukishima blocks Ushijima, I have no words for you. Tsukishima-it’s-just-a-club Kei, Tsukishima-I’m-the-normal-guy Kei — Tsukishima Kei, who always underestimates his own capabilities and relies on what he can see in front of him, blocking the Ushijima Wakatoshi, one of the top three high school aces nationally. The character development from someone who did the bare minimum (as noted by other players/coaches at one of the training camps) to someone who finally had their moment to get hooked on volleyball is one of my favorite progressions of all time. Seeing him fall in love with volleyball gradually and then all at once is truly heartwarming and beautiful to witness.  8. “No matter what other people may say, we are the protagonists of the world.” This quote is incredibly empowering to me. Even if your days consist of mundane activities, you are the protagonist of your own story every day. You may not be the main character in a shounen manga or an adolescent seeking to usurp the government in a dystopian novel, but this is your story. No one can tell it like you do and no one can replicate your story. It is yours and yours only.  And that concludes my Haikyuu word vomit! I really do wish I could have properly conveyed my pure adoration and love for this series better. I truly do love Haikyuu so very, very much. It will always have a special place in my heart and I will never forget the memories and lessons it has taught me! Thank you, Furudate-sensei, for such a beautiful story. And thank you Haikyuu, for everything. For all the losses and victories we shared. For all the smiles and laughter, and for all the tears we shed. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. 

[darkcircles4lyfe]

retrospective & predictions

Since we're on a hiatus week (between 320 and 321) I feel like waxing poetic about the depth and growth of bkdk for a bit. Especially because it seems like we’re right on the edge of their biggest development yet, I’m getting the urge to lay all my perspectives and insights I’ve picked up from others out on the table. This is ultimately only my subjective interpretation of subtextual material in canon, though. If you’ve never quite understood what people see in their dynamic and you’re actually open to hearing me out, maybe from this you can at least see where we’re coming from. And if you don’t like my takes after all, well, we’ll see who’s right in the coming chapters, won’t we? What I have to say can be taken platonically or romantically; I appreciate both. 

putting it under the cut, since it’ll be long:

At the risk of projecting, I want to start by examining a couple things based partly on personal experience.

From many different directions, I often hear people expressing that Deku’s persistent attachment and admiration for Bakugou is baffling at best. Despite the bullying, despite Bakugou’s loud, rude, and uncompromising personality, he still puts effort into their relationship and frequently describes him as amazing. It seems like Deku himself is aware of this as he’s said things along the lines of how he’s difficult, BUT... etc. Although I don’t think it’s exactly that Deku finds Bakugou’s personality hard to be around, but that he’s deliberately expressing patience for Bakugou’s emotional turmoil. 

I have to say I know what this sort of patience is like, as I went through it with someone I love. I only chose to put up with their behavior because I decided the possibility of what our relationship could be was worth it. I wasn’t blind or submissive to how they treated me, and I wasn’t coerced. I simply expressed myself and established my boundaries while still allowing them the opportunity to join me in my world once they got over their own hangups. And guess what? It worked out in the end. That doesn’t mean there aren’t circumstances where it’s better to cut ties, but I want to stress that true reconciliation is possible sometimes. I used to worry that other people around me thought I was delusional for seeking it, but what really helped was my therapist reminding me that I’m smart and strong. So I think Deku deserves to feel the same. In a way this is his whole mission in life, his approach to being a hero as well as his personal relationships.

Let me also be clear though that I don’t mean Deku is only tolerating Bakugou’s personality, his mannerisms, the parts of him that will likely never change. I’m drawing a line between those things and his emotional state (they so rarely align anyway, but I’ll get to that later). In fact, I think Bakugou’s general attitude is part of what Deku admires. This is gonna be hard to explain without inserting personal experience too, sorry. As a writer myself I’ve noticed I’m drawn to writing characters that are brazen and bold and don't mind telling people off. Really it’s because I operate in the world in the polar opposite way. I try not to draw attention to myself, I’m quiet, and I’m a people-pleaser. People who project confidence, especially in an impolite sort of way, fascinate me. It’s good to take cultural context into account, too: I've heard people who’d know better than me that part of the reason Bakugou is the most popular character in the Japanese fandom is likely because he contradicts a lot of their social norms. His disregard is refreshing and cathartic. I can speculate that Deku has a similar point of view based on what he thinks but does not admit about Bakugou being his image of victory and how this sometimes makes him mimic Bakugou’s speech and mannerisms: 

There’s also the bit in this fight where Deku realizes he's the only one able to receive Bakugou’s emotions. This is because he’s the most intimately familiar with him and his situation, but I think there’s another layer. Deku, as we know, has a self-sacrificing tendency, and in the current chapters we’re seeing the worst side of that. But let’s also not forget that to an extent, it can be a positive trait: resilience. When it comes to Bakugou, he has an almost comical ability to dodge the potential fallout of his outbursts. The example we all jump to (and fight about..) is how in ch1, apart from the initial shock of Bakugou suggesting he jump off the roof, the most he reacts is to criticize him for saying such a ridiculous thing. However, I think their interaction post- sludge villain is a lot more interesting:

Note two things: 1, in his head, Deku is practically making fun of how Bakugou’s acting as he stomps away without waiting for a reply. It doesn’t faze him. 2, Deku thinks, optimistically, that he can now focus on a different career choice. This is astonishing really. Up to this point, none of Bakugou’s attempts to put him down have worked; he just kept pursuing his dream. The only reason Deku concedes in this moment it because for the first time, he has been shown that he really couldn't do anything in a fight against a villain. All Might told him he couldn't be a hero (although he’s literally about to take that back in the next few pages lol) and the other heroes at the scene gave him a lecture about it too. It was those experiences, and not Bakugou’s words, that truly affected him. And when All Might tells Deku he can be a hero after all, it’s not thinking of Bakugou’s bullying that makes him sob and fall to his knees, it’s the memory of his own mom never telling him those words he so desperately needed to hear. Having spent most of their lives together, Deku must have been aware all this time that Baukgou was influenced by larger societal forces rather than a core judgement, so he didn’t take it personally. He separated the person from the action, and because he’s resilient and patient, he is thus equipped to handle Bakugou’s emotions. It’s a testament to his maturity and emotional intelligence, really. 

But I can almost hear some of you saying, “that doesn’t mean Deku should have to be the bigger person here!” Correct! Just because Deku is perfectly alright bearing all of that, doesn’t mean atonement-era Bakugou sees it this way. We can track his awareness of Deku’s care and selflessness as follows-

The bridge scene, when they’re little kids: Bakugou conflates Deku’s heroism with pity, and subsequently thinks Deku is looking down on him because Bakugou’s own insecurity makes him defensive.

The Sludge Villain, and also Deku vs. Kacchan Part 1: Bakugou witnesses first-hand how easily Deku jumps to risk his own life, but still thinks he’s being looked down on. 

The Sports Festival: Bakugou fights Uraraka and recognizes her endurance strategy and refusal to give up as very Deku-like. He’s half right. He thinks Deku advised her in the fight, when in reality she just mimicked Deku because she admired him. I want to draw attention to his very sober comment about her not being frail. It’s a great endearment of Uraraka’s character and Bakugou’s respect for her when others didn’t take “fighting a girl” seriously, but it also reflects on his opinion of Deku. Deku isn’t weak either. He never was.

Deku vs. Kacchan Part 2: Deku finally corrects him about the whole looking-down-on-him thing, and Bakugou is informed that Deku’s selflessness is in fact the reason All Might chose him. Since Bakugou had been in search of what he himself was “doing wrong” for All Might to favor Deku over him, he now has to reconcile the fact that selflessness is a heroic trait, and moreover something he lacks. This is also possibly the first time Bakugou is able to see his past actions toward Deku as bullying since he previously thought it was more mutual. Additionally, Bakugou can now link Deku’s selfless behavior to what he perceived as pity/contempt, and realize that Deku has been giving him A LOT of grace. Maybe too much. Maybe more than Bakugou deserves, and definitely more than Deku should have to. Holy heck- now Bakugou has to figure out how to live up to all the faith that’s been placed in him. 

Subtextually, we can see Bakugou’s feelings about atonement reflected in the Todoroki family:

1, Shouto is another example of Deku growing a friendship using his selflessness (since their fight in the sports festival) and their relationship is being acknowledged here where it hasn’t been in Bakugou’s situation. Perhaps Bakugou is wishing it could be so simple for him, to be able to thank him for being his friend like that. Deku saying the pleasure is all his also probably calls to mind how a mere apology from Bakugou would probably be dismissed because that’s just the kind of accommodating person Deku is. Bakugou has to operate more quietly in order to actually make up for their past. I personally don’t interpret this scene as Bakugou being jealous of Deku and Shouto’s friendship, exactly, just the lack of emotional baggage. Side note, Deku and Fuyumi are kinda similar in their desire to repair relationships. I like that she’s the one to give him some credit. 

2, With the common terminology, this can be interpreted as Bakugou receiving a model for atonement, one that is about action, and nothing to do with receiving favor or forgiveness. It’s a sense of duty. 

Many of the above sentiments are repeated in the flashback conversation between All Might and Bakugou right before Bakugou’s sacrifice. 

Bakugou acknowledges his bullying and that it happened because of his own insecurities, but aside from that, it’s interesting he neither confirms nor denies All Might’s suggestion that he’s trying to atone, or that Deku doesn’t see it that way. All Might is a bit of an unreliable mentor sometimes, but I don’t think he’s misreading here. Rather, Bakugou is displaying his tendency to hold back when talking about things that would make him really emotional. Besides, admitting to what he’s doing kind of defeats the purpose. He isn’t seeking acknowledgement. All Might has gotten to the crux of the issue here when pointing out that Deku doesn’t recognize the atonement, likely because Deku doesn't think Bakugou even needs to atone. Am I reading into it too much to say Bakugou looks wistful at this? It’s kinda frustrating sometimes trying to interpret Bakugou’s actions because he’s so paradoxical. Loud and in your face, but also extremely reserved. Sometimes I feel like I’m grasping at thin air, but hey, being hard to figure out is part of his intrigue as a character. The simplest way to look at him is to assume that unless he’s really showing vulnerability, he’s probably deflecting and hiding something.

Speaking of Bakugou’s tendency to to hold back emotional stuff, there’s his apparent lack of issue with Deku calling him Kacchan. Maybe to begin with, in his warped perception of things where he thought they hated each other, Bakugou saw it as Deku’s way of getting back at him for calling him “useless,” and didn't dare give any indication that it actually bothered him. However... consider how betrayed Bakugou has appeared when he was noticeably thinking Deku was looking down on him- the bridge scene, and the beginning of their first year at UA when he thought Deku was hiding a quirk all along. He looks shocked and hurt. That kind of emotion couldn’t be invoked by someone Bakugou didn’t actually care about his relationship with. “Kacchan” comes from a long time ago, before their relationship was strained, so it’s connotations are pure. Maybe somewhere deep down, Bakugou has always been hoping that Deku’s continued use of the nickname was not simply a matter of habit or teasing, but a vestige of friendship they’re both clinging to, and Bakugou himself was too afraid to admit to himself that he felt this way about it, so he mostly ignored it. (These are not original thoughts I am having here lol, this is a common interpretation. I’m just laying everything out like I said.) 

And now we turn to the current situation. Personally, I’ve been looking frantically back and forth between them wondering who’s going to break down first (Deku vs. Kacchan Part 3, this time it’s just a fight to get the other person to cry? ha.) Both have looked like they’re approaching a breaking point for some time. Also, I’ve addressed this before, but I think it’s significant that Bakugou is no longer wearing his mask with his hero costume, in contrast to Deku recently donning his own. It feels symbolic of Bakugou about to be upfront about how he feels.

The question is, what is it going to take to get Deku to accept help? If you ask me, Deku has dug himself so deeply into the I’m-doing-this-for-everyone-else’s-safety-and-smiles hole, no common sense argument can possibly reach him. By the end of 320, Deku’s mask is off, and we can see how desperate he truly is. But he has not cried, yet. I predict we’re going to see a bit more of his defiance, this time on full display on his face as the remaining class members and his other friends take their turns. But then I think Bakugou has to be the one to break down so Deku can witness his actions having the opposite effect he intended. People have been pointing out that Deku is currently ignoring Bakugou, and oof, that’s gotta be intentional. Regardless of what Bakugou says, it’s going to be wrapped up not only in his understanding of Deku’s self-sacrifice, but also the betrayal Bakugou feels at being ignored/left behind that ironically echoes his previous perception of being looked down on, as well as a need to express how much he cares about Deku before it’s too late. He must show that the two of them are inseparable because they both act to save each other without thinking, and both feel like losing the other would be like dying themselves. All Might may have been right when he told them they could learn from each other after Deku vs. Kacchan Part 2, but he didn’t fully realize that idea by making sure they stuck by each other for support and balance. 

I can’t wait to see what it’ll be like when they do finally get to that point, totally in synch and in tune with each other. They’ll be a powerful force no one is quite prepared for. Who knows when that will be, or even which chapter will be their big showdown, but I know the day is coming.

To speculate even further, I think the 2nd user is going to be really important really soon. And no I don’t mean to suggest that the 2nd user is Bakugou. But I do think their resemblance is key. Okay this is gonna be convoluted...

See how 2nd is the only one still standing? I think that’s symbolic of him withholding his quirk. Deku may not even know what it is at this point, let alone have unlocked it. Given that 2nd approves of Deku’s strategy at this point, it seems odd for him to withhold his quirk based on lack of faith. I think if his quirk was something that would help Deku in combat, he would have shown it to him already like the others did. So what if those gauntlets of his are support items that are meant to make up for his lack of a combat-oriented quirk, rather than to augment it? Mind you, I still have no idea what his mysterious power might be, but I’m dead set on it not being explosion-y. Regardless, I think 2nd looking like Bakugou is more about aiding some grand visual parallel, so! You know how 2nd and 3rd were probably intending to do away with Yoichi but 2nd changed his mind as soon as they made eye contact? This is really a long shot, but I wonder if 2nd’s quirk has something to do with that exchange. Maybe it’s something psychological, or some 6th sense about people he meets. So... in that way 2nd’s quirk could play a role in bkdk reaching a deeper understanding? Idk! But it could be significant at least that 2nd left Yoichi’s question about why he reached out to him unanswered. 

One more thing- while I was gathering screenshots I found this. I think “you’re the last one I’m telling” might be foreshadowing for Bakugou revealing his hero name to Deku and it being a Big Deal:

As for other lingering threads in the overall plot right now, such as the UA traitor, Stain, whatever Tsuyu is apparently about to do, All Might’s car maybe in the background of the last page of 320... man I have no idea. All I know is there’s literally 320 chapters’ worth of build-up to this confrontation that can’t be interrupted. 

See you next week <3