#does ‘May you find your rest where no shadows are cast and no eyes may see you slumber.��

[novaursa]

A Lion's Folly (the brave)

- Summary: A story where a lion falls for the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, you.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Jaime Lannister

- Note: Keep in mind how the canon timeline and plot may be altered to suit this story.

- Rating: Explicit 18 + (for blood, gore, death, violence and suggestive themes)

- Previous part: sins

- Next part: absolution

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround

The days bleed into one another as the small group travels deeper into the wilderness, avoiding the main roads to evade prying eyes. The terrain grows rougher, with thick forests and uneven paths that force them to move slower. Jaime feels every ache in his body, but he keeps his complaints to himself. For once, his sharp tongue is tempered—not by fear, but by something far more unsettling: you.

You walk ahead of him, leading the way with Winter at your side. The direwolf pads silently, his coat blending into the pale underbrush. Every so often, Winter glances back at Jaime, his icy blue eyes filled with suspicion, as if he’s waiting for the slightest excuse to tear him apart. Jaime smirks faintly at the thought but knows better than to provoke the beast.

You’ve grown quieter as the days pass, your icy demeanor softening slightly into something more tolerable. You still don’t speak to him unless necessary, but the edge of your anger has dulled. Jaime doesn’t know if it’s because of exhaustion or sheer indifference, but he finds himself craving any scrap of interaction with you, no matter how small.

Brienne, ever the vigilant guardian, remains stoic and watchful, her eyes constantly scanning the woods. She speaks little, her focus unwavering as she ensures their path is safe.

The sun begins to set, casting long shadows across the forest floor, when you finally call for a stop.

“We’ll camp here tonight,” you say simply, gesturing to a small clearing nestled between thick trees.

Brienne nods and begins unpacking their limited supplies. Winter circles the clearing once before settling near you, his menacing gaze never leaving Jaime.

As the fire crackles to life, the three of you sit in a loose triangle around it, the silence thick and oppressive. Jaime leans back against a tree, his hands still bound but resting in his lap, his smirk faint as he watches you tend to Winter.

“You’re remarkably silent tonight, my lady,” he says after a moment, his tone light but tinged with genuine curiosity.

You glance at him briefly, your expression unreadable. “Maybe you should follow my example,” you reply coolly.

Jaime chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Ah, but silence doesn’t suit me. You should know that by now.”

Brienne sighs heavily, clearly tired of his antics, but doesn’t intervene.

“Tell me,” Jaime continues, his gaze lingering on you, “does it ever get easier? The grief?”

Your hand stills on Winter’s fur, and for a moment, the firelight reflects something raw in your eyes. “Why do you care?” you ask, your voice quieter now, though still guarded.

“I don’t,” Jaime admits, his smirk faltering slightly. “But I’ve seen enough grief to know it doesn’t fade. It just… changes shape.”

You don’t respond immediately, your fingers brushing absently through Winter’s fur as the firelight dances across your face. Finally, you speak, your voice low but steady. “It’s not something you’d understand, Lannister.”

“Maybe not,” Jaime replies, leaning forward slightly. “But I do know something about loss. About guilt.”

You meet his gaze then, your eyes cold and piercing. “Don’t talk to me about guilt. Not after what you’ve done.”

Jaime exhales, leaning back against the tree. “Fair enough,” he says quietly.

The silence stretches again, broken only by the crackling fire and the distant rustle of leaves. It’s Brienne who finally breaks it, her tone calm but firm. “We should rest. We’ll need to cover more ground tomorrow.”

You nod, rising to your feet and moving to check your gear. Winter follows, his presence a constant shadow at your side. Jaime watches you go, his chest tightening with something he can’t quite name.

As Brienne begins to settle in for the night, Jaime speaks again, his voice softer now. “You know, I always respected your father.”

Brienne looks up abruptly, but it’s you who turns first, your gaze hard and unforgiving.

“Don’t,” you say, your voice like steel.

Jaime doesn’t stop. “Ned Stark,” he continues, ignoring the warning in your eyes. “He was… honorable, to a fault. A rarity in men like us. He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

Your fists clench at your sides, but you don’t respond, your jaw tight.

“Do you think he’d approve of this?” Jaime asks, gesturing faintly to the group. “Of you traveling with the likes of me?”

Your voice is cold when you finally reply. “My father’s approval doesn’t matter anymore. He’s dead. Because of men like you.”

Jaime swallows hard, your words cutting deeper than he expected. “You’re right,” he says after a long pause, his tone quieter now. “And if I could change it, I—”

“You can’t,” you snap, cutting him off. “So stop pretending like you care.”

The camp falls silent again, the animosity thick enough to choke. Jaime doesn’t speak after that, his gaze fixed on the fire as his own guilt festers inside him.

As the night deepens and the fire burns low, Jaime lays back against the tree, his eyes on the stars above. Your words echo in his mind, a constant reminder of the weight he carries.

And though he doesn’t say it aloud, he knows you’re right. He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness. But that doesn’t stop him from wanting it.

The air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and damp earth. Jaime sits near the smoldering remains of their morning fire, his hands still bound but his posture relaxed, watching Brienne as she meticulously checks her gear. You had left earlier with Winter to hunt, leaving the two of them behind.

Jaime finds the silence unbearable.

“Do you ever take that armor off, Brienne?” he drawls, tilting his head as he studies her. “Or is it part of you now? Perhaps it’s hiding something you’d rather keep a mystery.”

Brienne stiffens but doesn’t look at him. “You’ll find no amusement here, Lannister. Keep your mouth shut.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” Jaime presses, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re so stern all the time. Doesn’t it get exhausting? Or is that how you woo the men of Tarth? With that charming scowl?”

Brienne finally looks at him, her blue eyes cold as ice. “You’ve made it clear you have no honor, Kingslayer. I see no need to engage with you further.”

Jaime chuckles softly, leaning back against the tree. “Ah, but you already have. That’s the thing about you, Brienne—you care. Even when you shouldn’t. It’s admirable, really. Foolish, but admirable.”

Before Brienne can respond, a sound cuts through the stillness—a faint rustle in the underbrush. Brienne’s hand immediately moves to her sword, her keen gaze scanning the forest. Jaime stiffens, his smirk slipping as the noise grows louder.

Then they appear.

The Brave Companions emerge from the trees, their mismatched armor and cruel faces unmistakable. Vargo Hoat leads them, his twisted smile revealing his rotting teeth. The sight of him sends a chill down Jaime’s spine, though he hides it well.

“Well, well,” Vargo says, his voice grating as he steps forward. “What have we here? The Kingslayer himself, traveling with a lady knight. A curious pairing, no?”

Brienne rises to her full height, her sword drawn in an instant. “Leave, now. You’ll find no easy prey here.”

Vargo laughs, a sound that sends a ripple of unease through the forest. His men spread out, circling the clearing like wolves. Jaime counts at least a dozen, all armed and dangerous.

“You’re outnumbered,” Vargo says, his grin widening. “Put down your sword, woman, or we’ll take it—and your head—with it.”

Jaime watches the scene unfold, his mind racing. Brienne’s grip tightens on her sword, her stance unwavering, but even he knows the odds are against her.

“Brienne,” Jaime says quietly, his voice devoid of mockery for once. “Don’t be stupid.”

She doesn’t respond, her focus entirely on the men before her.

Jaime’s heart pounds in his chest, but not for himself. His thoughts turn to you, somewhere out in the forest with Winter. For the first time in a long while, Jaime finds himself praying—not to the gods, but to fate itself.

Stay away. Don’t come back. Don’t let them find you.

“Take him,” Vargo orders suddenly, gesturing toward Jaime. Two of his men step forward, their weapons drawn.

Jaime doesn’t resist as they grab him, though his smirk returns faintly. “You’ll regret this, goat,” he says, his voice dripping with disdain.

“We’ll see,” Vargo replies, his grin never faltering.

Brienne moves to intercept them, her sword flashing in the fading light. She takes down one man with ease, her movements precise and deadly. But the others close in quickly, overwhelming her with sheer numbers.

Jaime struggles against his captors, his chest tightening as Brienne is forced to her knees.

“Stop!” Vargo commands, and his men freeze. He steps closer to Brienne, his twisted grin widening. “You’ll fetch a fine price, woman. Perhaps even more than the Kingslayer.”

Jaime spits at Vargo’s feet, his voice sharp. “Touch her, and I’ll make sure your death is slow.”

Vargo laughs, clearly unfazed. “You’re in no position to make threats, Lannister.”

As the Brave Companions begin binding Brienne, Jaime’s thoughts return to you. He can only hope you’ve gone far enough into the forest to escape their notice.

Stay away, he thinks again, the words almost a plea. Don’t let them find you.

But the forest is silent, offering no assurances.

Jaime stumbles slightly as they march, his wrists raw and unsteady now that his hands are free from the chains that had bound them. His steps are slow and measured, but his gaze keeps darting to the dense tree line, scanning for any sign of you—or worse, Winter.

He doesn’t want you here. The thought of you stumbling into this chaos, of seeing you captured or worse, is unbearable. The sharp bite of fear twists in his chest, unfamiliar and unwelcome.

Behind him, Brienne trudges silently, her hands bound tightly, her face bruised but unbroken. The set of her jaw and the fire in her eyes tell Jaime that she hasn’t given up. Yet the odds are stacked against them, and even her famed strength feels like little more than a flickering candle against the storm that is Vargo Hoat and his band of butchers.

Vargo rides alongside them, his crooked smile ever-present. The sound of his grating voice breaks through the crunch of boots and hooves on the forest floor.

“Kingslayer,” Vargo calls, his tone mocking. “You look troubled. Perhaps you miss your father’s castle, eh?”

Jaime keeps his expression neutral, though his gaze remains fixed on the trees. “And what of it, goat? Are you taking me to him? I imagine Tywin Lannister would pay handsomely for his son’s safe return.”

Vargo lets out a harsh laugh, the sound as unpleasant as nails on stone. “Safe return? No, no, no. That is not our plan. Your father’s gold may be great, but there are others who will pay more for you—and her.”

Jaime glances over his shoulder at Brienne, who glares at Vargo with pure hatred.

“And who might that be?” Jaime asks, his voice tight.

“Lord Bolton,” Vargo replies, his grin widening. “He is very interested in the Kingslayer and his lady knight. He will reward us greatly for delivering you both to Harrenhal.”

Jaime’s jaw tightens. Roose Bolton—a man whose reputation for cruelty and cunning rivaled even his father’s worst enemies. The news twists the knot in his stomach even tighter.

“Ah,” Jaime says, forcing a faint smirk despite the unease coursing through him. “So I’m to be handed over to a man who skins his enemies alive. Charming. I suppose this is my lucky day.”

Vargo chuckles again, clearly enjoying Jaime’s discomfort. “Lucky, yes. You will see what Lord Bolton has in store for you soon enough.”

Jaime doesn’t respond, his mind racing as he considers their fate. The chances of escape seem slimmer with every step, and his thoughts inevitably circle back to you. Were you far enough away when the Brave Companions attacked? Did Winter sense the danger and keep you from returning?

“Kingslayer,” Vargo snaps suddenly, his gaze locking onto Jaime. “You keep looking at the trees. What are you so distracted by? Hoping for rescue?”

Jaime forces a laugh, though it rings hollow even to his own ears. “Rescue? Hardly. I’m just admiring the scenery. It’s not often I get to see the wilderness in all its… muddy glory.”

Vargo narrows his eyes, unconvinced. He leans forward in his saddle, studying Jaime with a calculating look. “You’re hiding something,” he says slowly, his grin fading into suspicion.

“I’m hiding nothing,” Jaime replies smoothly, though his hands clench involuntarily at his sides. “But if it keeps you entertained, feel free to keep guessing, goat.”

Vargo sneers, his gaze lingering on Jaime for a moment longer before he turns his attention back to the path ahead.

Behind him, Brienne speaks for the first time since their capture, her voice low but firm. “If you have a plan, Lannister, now would be the time to share it.”

Jaime glances back at her, his smirk returning faintly. “A plan? Do you think I’m hiding an army in these woods, waiting to spring us free?”

“You’re always scheming,” Brienne retorts, her blue eyes blazing. “Don’t play coy with me.”

Jaime exhales sharply, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “The only plan I have,” he says quietly, his gaze drifting back to the trees, “is hoping she stays far away from this.”

Brienne frowns. “Don’t speak of her aloud.”

Jaime spoke no more. Instead, he focuses on the path ahead, the rhythmic crunch of their steps blending with the rustling of leaves.

As they march deeper into the forest, Jaime’s mind refuses to quiet. He can’t shake the image of you standing with your bow drawn, Winter at your side, ready to face down anyone who threatened you. The thought should bring him comfort, but instead, it fills him with dread.

Because if you came back, if you appeared now, Jaime knows there’s nothing he could do to protect you. And the thought of losing you—of watching you suffer because of him—feels like a fate worse than death.

The camp is eerily quiet, the only sounds the crackling of a meager fire and the occasional rustle of the trees in the cold night breeze. Vargo’s men lounge around the clearing, their mismatched armor shining faintly in the firelight. Jaime sits to one side, his hands resting on his knees, Brienne not far behind him. His body aches from the forced march, but his mind is clearer than ever, his senses heightened by the dread that hangs in the air.

Something feels wrong.

The first scream shatters the stillness.

It’s a guttural, panicked sound, cutting through the night like a blade. Everyone freezes, heads snapping toward the trees where the noise originated. The firelight dances on the faces of Vargo’s men, their expressions shifting from irritation to alarm.

“What was that?” one of them mutters, his hand already on his sword.

Before anyone can respond, a figure is dragged into the shadows with terrifying speed. The man lets out a blood-curdling scream, his body thrashing wildly as he disappears into the dark.

“Get up!” Vargo shouts, his voice alarmed as he jumps to his feet. “To arms!”

The camp erupts into chaos as the men scramble for their weapons, their movements frantic and uncoordinated. Jaime watches, his heart pounding as he catches a fleeting glimpse of pale fur and glowing blue eyes in the shadows.

Winter.

“Seven hells,” Jaime breathes, his chest tightening.

Another scream pierces the night as a second man is attacked, his cries abruptly silenced by the sound of tearing flesh. The Brave Companions draw their weapons, but their fear is palpable, their movements clumsy.

“It’s a wolf!” one of them shouts, his voice trembling.

“No wolf is that big!” another yells back, his eyes wide with terror.

Winter moves like a ghost through the trees, his white and silver coat blending into the shadows as he strikes with lethal precision. Jaime can barely keep track of him, the direwolf’s speed and ferocity unlike anything he’s ever seen.

Vargo snarls, drawing his curved sword as he scans the darkness. “Kill it! Kill the beast!”

Before anyone can act, an arrow whistles through the air, striking one of the men in the throat. He gurgles, collapsing to the ground as blood pools beneath him.

“Archer!” someone shouts, pointing wildly toward the trees.

Another arrow flies, finding its mark in a second man’s chest. He stumbles backward, clutching at the shaft before crumpling to the ground.

Jaime’s breath catches as he realizes what’s happening. It’s not just Winter—it’s you.

A third arrow claims another victim, the chaos escalating as the Brave Companions break formation, rushing blindly into the woods in search of their unseen attacker.

“Stay together, you fools!” Vargo roars, his voice barely audible over the chaos.

Jaime’s eyes dart to the treeline, his heart racing. He knows you’re out there, somewhere in the shadows, and the thought both thrills and terrifies him.

Another scream echoes through the forest as Winter attacks again, his massive form taking down another man with ruthless efficiency. The clearing is now a mess of blood, bodies, and panicked shouting, the Brave Companions falling apart under the assault.

And then he sees you.

You step into the clearing, your bow in hand, your face illuminated by the flickering firelight. There’s a fierce determination in your eyes, your movements swift and precise as you draw another arrow.

“Y/N!” Jaime calls out before he can stop himself, his voice cutting through the noise.

Your gaze flicks to him for the briefest moment, your expression unreadable. But it’s enough of a distraction for Vargo to strike.

He lunges forward, grabbing you by the arm and yanking you back with surprising speed. Your bow clatters to the ground as you struggle against his grip, your face twisting in anger.

“Let me go!” you shout, your voice raw with fury.

Winter lets out a deep, guttural growl, his eyes locked on you as he moves to attack.

“No!” you scream, your voice desperate. “Run, Winter! Go!”

The direwolf hesitates, his massive form still and tense as he watches you.

“Run!” you shout again, tears glinting in your eyes as you thrash against Vargo’s hold.

Winter snarls once more, his gaze flicking between you and the Brave Companions before he turns and disappears into the trees, his silver form vanishing like a ghost.

“No,” Jaime mutters under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides. He steps forward, but two of Vargo’s men grab him, holding him back.

“Enough!” Vargo snaps, his grip on you tightening. “The wolf is gone. And now we have her.”

Your breathing is ragged, your face pale but defiant as you glare up at him. “You won’t get away with this,” you say through gritted teeth.

Vargo laughs, the sound cruel and grating. “Oh, my dear, I already have.”

Jaime’s chest burns with fury and frustration as he watches you struggle, his mind racing for a way to intervene. But with his hands unbound and his guards distracted, he knows his moment will come.

For now, all he can do is watch as Vargo drags you with him.

The clearing is chaos. The fire crackles weakly, casting jagged specters over the carnage of bodies and blood. Vargo Hoat holds you firmly by the arm, his sickly grin widening as his men begin to realize just who he has captured. You continue to struggle against him, your breath ragged, but the defiance in your eyes burns brighter than the flames.

“Well, well,” Vargo sneers, his voice grating like steel on stone. “We’ve caught ourselves a Stark. A fine prize indeed. Imagine the price your brother will pay to get you back.”

Your struggles intensify, and in one sudden, vicious movement, you lunge forward and sink your teeth into the side of Vargo’s neck. The sickening crunch of flesh giving way is followed by a howl of pain as blood pours from the wound.

“You little bitch!” Vargo roars, shoving you back with such force that you stumble. He lifts his hand and strikes you across the face with a brutal slap that echoes through the clearing.

Jaime’s breath catches, his body going numb as you fall to your knees, clutching your cheek. Fury surges through him, hot and unrelenting.

“Get her in line!” Vargo snarls, his eyes wild as he presses a hand to the bleeding wound on his neck. “Or I’ll do it myself!” His next words drip with malice, his voice lowering. “Maybe a night in my tent will teach her some manners.”

Brienne struggles against the two men holding her, her teeth bared in a feral snarl. “You dare harm her, and I will kill you, goat!”

Vargo laughs, a twisted sound filled with cruelty. “You’re in no position to make threats, wench. But perhaps you’d like to join her. I hear the women of Tarth are… sturdy.”

Jaime’s patience snaps.

“That,” Jaime says suddenly, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade, “would be a very bad idea.”

Vargo turns to him, his eyes narrowing. “And why is that, Kingslayer?”

Jaime steps forward, his posture deceptively relaxed, though his smirk carries a dangerous edge. “Because she’s a Stark, you imbecile. Do you have any idea what Robb Stark will do if he hears you’ve so much as touched her? Let me enlighten you: he’ll behead every single one of your men. And you? He’ll save you for last. Maybe he’ll even let his direwolf eat you piece by piece.”

Vargo’s expression falters for a moment, uncertainty flickering in his eyes before he sneers. “You think I fear the boy king in the North?”

“You should,” Jaime replies coldly. “The Starks are known for their vengeance. And trust me, you don’t want to find out just how far they’ll go for one of their own.”

The men around Vargo exchange uneasy glances, the weight of Jaime’s words sinking in. Even the most hardened among them seem to hesitate, their weapons lowering slightly.

Vargo hesitates, his eyes darting between Jaime and you. Finally, he lets out a growl of frustration, shoving you roughly to the ground.

“Fine,” he snarls, spitting blood onto the ground. “But keep her quiet. And if she causes any more trouble, she’ll regret it.”

Jaime moves to your side, kneeling as he places himself between you and Vargo. He doesn’t reach out to you—he knows you wouldn’t welcome it—but his presence is a silent reassurance.

“You’ll regret it if you touch her again,” Jaime says evenly, his voice low but filled with venom.

Vargo sneers but doesn’t reply, turning away to bark orders at his men. The tension in the clearing lessens slightly, though the atmosphere remains charged.

Jaime glances at you, your face pale but your eyes still burning with defiance. Blood trickles from your lip where Vargo’s slap split the skin, but you refuse to show weakness.

“You’re insane,” Jaime mutters, his tone somewhere between admiration and frustration.

“And you’re pathetic,” you snap back, your voice steady despite the trembling in your hands. “Don’t think this changes anything, Lannister.”

Jaime smirks faintly, though the expression doesn’t reach his eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Brienne is finally released, her captors stepping back as she moves to stand beside Jaime and you. Her gaze flicks between you, Jaime, and the others, her grip on her sword tight.

“We need a plan,” she says quietly, her voice calm but urgent.

Jaime nods, his mind already racing. He doesn’t know how they’ll escape this mess, but one thing is certain: he’ll ensure you make it out alive, no matter the cost.

Because for the first time in years, Jaime Lannister feels something he thought he’d lost—a flicker of honor. And he’s not about to let it die here.

The camp has grown quiet, the earlier chaos fading into an uneasy stillness. The Brave Companions, though brutal, are not fools; they’ve doubled their watch, their muttered conversations filled with unease as they huddle around the dying fire. The woods seem to press closer, the shadows deep and impenetrable, a eerie reminder of the blood spilled earlier.

Jaime sits near the edge of the clearing, his back against a tree, his body aching but unbroken. His hands, though unbound, rest loosely on his knees, and he watches as Brienne, bruised but defiant, is seated under close guard across from him. Her eyes flick toward him briefly before returning to her captors, her posture one of quiet vigilance.

And then there’s you.

You sit a short distance away, your arms wrapped around your knees as if trying to keep yourself steady. Your face is pale, the faint bruise from Vargo’s slap barely visible in the dim firelight. Winter is nowhere to be seen, and Jaime wonders if the direwolf is still close, lurking just beyond the camp’s edge.

When you glance toward Brienne, your expression tightens, your gaze lingering on the bonds that hold her before finally shifting to Jaime. For a moment, you simply study him, your eyes narrowed in thought. Then you speak, your voice quiet but firm.

“Are you unharmed?”

Jaime raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I didn’t know you cared, my lady.”

You scoff, the sound cold and unimpressed. “I don’t. But you need to remain intact. If you’re not returned to the capital, my sisters won’t be returned safely. That’s the only reason I asked.”

Jaime chuckles softly, leaning back against the tree. “Ah, of course. My worth as a bargaining chip. Good to know where I stand.”

Your expression hardens, and you look away, your focus shifting to the forest beyond. “Just answer the question, Lannister.”

“I’m fine,” Jaime replies, his tone more serious now. “Though I can’t say the same for your goat friend. You left quite the impression on him.”

You don’t smile, though there’s a flicker of satisfaction in your eyes. “He deserved worse.”

Jaime nods slightly, his gaze steady on you. “That he did.”

For a moment, the two of you sit in silence, the crackle of the fire filling the space between you. Then Jaime speaks again, his voice quieter now.

“They’re taking us to Harrenhal,” he says, his smirk fading. “By any luck, Tywin will be there. Along with your dear friend Roose Bolton.”

Your head snaps toward him, alarm flashing across your face. “Bolton?”

Jaime tilts his head, watching you carefully. “Yes. Apparently, Vargo thinks Lord Bolton has some interest in us. I suppose he sees an opportunity to curry favor with both sides.”

Your brow furrows, your mind clearly racing. “Bolton is my brother’s bannerman,” you say, your voice tinged with confusion and disbelief. “What business would he have with Tywin Lannister?”

Jaime shrugs, though his eyes don’t leave you. “That’s the question, isn’t it? But if I were you, I’d start asking why one of Robb’s trusted men is even speaking to my father in the first place.”

The realization hits you like a physical blow, your eyes widening as the pieces begin to fall into place. You mutter something under your breath, too quiet for Jaime to hear, before clenching your fists at your sides.

“I have to warn Robb,” you say suddenly, your voice low but urgent.

Jaime watches you carefully, his smirk returning faintly. “And how do you plan to do that, my lady? You’re a prisoner now, in case you’ve forgotten.”

You glare at him, your jaw tight. “I’ll find a way.”

Brienne, who has been listening silently, finally speaks, her voice steady. “If what he says is true, your brother must be told. The Boltons have always been… different. But this would be treason of the highest order.”

“Treason?” Jaime interjects, his tone almost amused. “Such a quaint word. Let’s call it what it is: survival. Roose Bolton knows how this war will end. He’s simply choosing the winning side.”

You rise to your feet abruptly, pacing a short distance away as your thoughts churn. Jaime watches you closely, noting the hesitation in your movements, the fire in your eyes.

“I won’t let him betray my family,” you say finally, your voice firm.

Jaime leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “And what exactly will you do, Stark? You’re in no position to stop him. Neither am I, for that matter.”

You stop pacing, turning to face him with a glare that could cut through steel. “That’s where you’re wrong, Lannister. You might not care about honor or loyalty, but I do. And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my family.”

Jaime holds your gaze, his smirk fading as he sees the resolve burning in your eyes. He feels a flicker of something unfamiliar—respect.

“Well,” he says quietly, leaning back against the tree once more, “then I suppose you’d better start planning, my lady. Because if we reach Harrenhal, it might already be too late.”

Your jaw tightens, but you don’t respond. Instead, you return to your place by the fire, your eyes fixed on the flames as your mind works tirelessly.

Jaime watches you in silence, the weight of your determination settling over him like a storm cloud. And he finds himself wondering if perhaps there’s still a way out of this mess—if not for him, then for you.

[glassladyoftheopera]

In Stars and Time as a Musical Follow Up: Costumes

Okay, a topic I may have enough thoughts on to make a full post about; costumes! (and a little bit stage craft in some places.)

This is mostly about what people would do if they wanted to actually put on a live version of this, versus treating it like a concept album. I am however going to mostly ignore cost restraints outside of like, truly ridiculous stuff.

So first, some general notes.

The color palette: we will still have all of the costumes and sets be in grayscale, with the red used in the 'say it's name' and Act 5 sequences probably mostly being done through lighting. We will not have the actors use skin paint though. I'm not that mean. The audience can buy the idea that the world is meant to be black and white just fine without it.

Materials: I would avoid overly synthetic looking fabrics to maintain the 'vaguely fantasy medieval' vibe, but I wouldn't worry about using actual natural fabric. Comfort and cleaning are higher priorities.

Ensemble: Not much to say about them! Just that the production would have to be careful to make sure everyone is in truly neutral grayscale and not let too warm / cool of grays slip in.

Okay, let's talk characters.

Siffrin is tricky basically every option for interpreting the cloak has it's own pros and cons. Having sleeves means better movement options for the actor, but they only show up in a handful of images in the game. Full poncho means we get Full Triangle Vibe, but it would hamper movement a lot. Cloak with a pinned closed front means we see more of the rest of the costume more often, which I wouldn't mind, but it does break up the classic triangle silhouette. It's honestly still my pick though. Then there's the eye patch. I know some shows just give characters eye patches, and as long as you're careful staging the dances it will probably be fine? But I assume semi-mesh eye patches for performers are a thing, so I'd try to find one of those. Lastly, hat. It probably couldn't be as absurdly big as in game without casting major shadows we don't want on Siffrin's face, so they'll need a slightly narrower brim and we'd keep the hat pinned in a more back position.

Mirabelle's outfit probably wouldn't need to change much, but her little fingerless gloves would need some reinforcement at the top to keep them from falling down her arms. There's also the matter of her needing to have her sword with her most of the show; it might need to be a little smaller than a true rapier, but Shakespeare shows have duels and such so we can make something work.

Odile wouldn't be particularly difficult to costume as long as you don't make her sweater / jacket too heavy and put some straps on her shoes. Fake glasses aren't hard too bad, but some rigging in the back to keep them on will be helpful.

Isabeau I'm sorry but your sleeves have to be a little less gigantic, it will get in the way of the audience being able to read your gestures / get caught on stuff. They can still be long and loose though. Also, in real life the stripes on his pants being that wide could be an issue in terms of reading where he is on stage with the set / looking kind of goofy, so I might make them just a bit thinner.

Bonnie... I do not know how to make your weird pillow hat work in real life. For most game accurate version you'd have to make it completely from scratch. Something like a beret in terms of construction but... big. And probably held up internally with stuffing and wire. The alternative would probably be a big sunhat, and if you want to include Bonnie getting a new hat just slightly redo that scene to find something else that's similar.

Heck yeah its time for Loop! Now, we're definitely not doing a full star head, that wouldn't let the actor do any of that good emoting. But! I think a lower face mask could still work. You might have to hide the actor's mic under there to make sure they could be heard, but it's definitely possible. They would definitely need a custom wig for spikiness, plus a star-like head piece to top it off. Now the rest of it... I mean, you could go full body suit. I'd probably do that as the first choice, though maybe adding a wispy loin cloth or tie around the middle for modesty depending on your performer / venue. But! Different productions could get really creative with it, as long as the base still has them black and covered with stars and there's the star in their chest. Add in some specific design quirks that are only elsewhere found in Sif and The King's costumes, but just tiny little detail type things? Chef's kiss.

Speaking of the King! He unfortunately does need to be Very Big, but thankfully Broadway shows can pull that off! Something similar to the Wizard head in Wicked could work here, where only some parts of the set piece move (mechanically or via puppetry) and the actor is a voice over. The hair could be a mix of practice and projections. The tears that show up in the fight would probably also need to be projected. The hard thing would be getting it to disappear quickly enough. Maybe the last bit before the loop resets is always in front of the curtain? Could be cool. A less well funded production would probably have to either use mostly projections or re-work to use less moving parts.

Last up Euphrasie! Since she has a long dress getting her some extra height wouldn't be too hard, and she doesn't have to dance or anything so that helps. But! She does need to do the Act 4 finale dramatic kneel down, which is harder to work around. If we cast a tall actor and just use lifts in her shoes, it could work. She wouldn't be as super tall as she would be if we used hidden stilts, but I like the image of her cupping Sif's face, it goes all the way back to the comics, I gotta keep it.

What about y'all? How would you dress everyone? Any little details you'd want to see? And tricks to deal with the problems I thought of? Have fun!

[ornii]

RWBYBORNE: Part 1

1: “Good Hunter..”

Remnant, The Long Hunt

Beasts are not born—they are made. The scourge of the blood twists men into monsters, their minds consumed by madness, their bodies reshaped by hunger. They are not so different from the Grimm, those shadowed creatures of Remnant. Both are the spawn of darkness, bred to hunt, to kill, to destroy.

Grimm and Beasts are mindless tools, drawn by fear and despair, They are the reflection of man’s sins, the corruption that festers within the heart. The blood does not lie—it reveals. And when it reveals too much, man is undone, leaving behind only the beast.

Yharnam thought it could control the blood, harness it for power, for healing. But blood is a cruel master, and the price was paid in fire and ash. The city burned, the beasts contained—for a time. But darkness does not die; it spreads.

All of Yharnam was sealed away, its gates locked to humanity and all through remnant and stuck deep within the West of Vale. Only two had escaped Yharnam, Gehrman, the First Hunter and a single babe whose blood was of pure Yharnam. They left the burning city to a cottage in vale. And Gehrman trained the boy, as there are still beasts to slay.

Remnant is not a sanctuary. It is a battlefield, a place where the darkness takes many forms. And the blood��� the blood ties it all together. For in the end, man’s greatest enemy is not the beast outside but the beast within.”

The Hunter’s Workshop lay silent under the pale glow of a moon that never waned. Shadows stretched long across the cobblestone floor, cast by the flickering fire of a dying lantern. Tools of the trade—saws, blades, and bloodstained cloth—were scattered across the room, remnants of countless hunts. Past the workshop was a small cottage, old and in need of repair, a boy stepped out of it. His eyes trailed along his clothing, the Garb of a hunters. He dusts himself off and tightens his gloves and stepped calmly towards the Workshop, and entered, walking past graveyards, etched with names of hunters lost to the war of beasts.

The Hunter stood at the center of the Workshop, his cloak hanging heavy with the weight of old blood. His hands rested on the hilt of his saw cleaver, the weapon worn but sharp.

A chair creaked as Gehrman leaned forward. The old man’s gaze bore into the boy he had raised. His voice, though soft, carried the weight of years.

“Your time here is over, boy,” Gherman said. “The hunt calls elsewhere.”

“You believe this school will test me? Test the strength I have gained?” He asks. “Yharnam is where I should return to—“

Gehrman shook his head, a weary smile crossing his face. “Yharnam is dead, lad. Its flames died long ago, yet the scourge lives on. The beasts are not bound to that place. They’ve spread, and the hunt must follow. It’s for your own good, killing beasts..”

The Hunter was silent, his head bowed. Gherman’s words hung heavy in the air, and though he wanted to argue, he could not. The Hunter shook his head and left to the front of the workshop, and as if they were waiting, one more figure stood before him, a.. Doll. But she looked, human, familiar.

The Doll stepped forward, her porcelain face expressionless yet kind. Her voice, soft and melodic, broke the silence.

“Good Hunter,” she said, her hands folding over her heart. “You have endured so much. You have given yourself to the hunt, to protect and to destroy. But this… this is a chance to find what was taken from you. Trust in yourself. Trust in others. You are not alone.”

The Hunter lowered himself to one knee, he removed his hat, and extended his hand, she placed her gently on his. Though her touch was cold, it comforted him. He felt a surge of power, his final surge. He rose and bowed, and she did in kind.

“I shall not forget our adage.” He said firmly.

“Farewell, Good Hunter. May you find your worth in the waking world.” The Doll gave her goodbye and the hunter turned and left.

The Hunter stood, his saw cleaver strapped to his back, his bag slung over one shoulder. Outside, a steed awaited—a creature of pale mist and moonlight, its body translucent yet solid enough to bear him.

He did not look back as he mounted the steed. The Workshop grew smaller in the distance, swallowed by the forest’s shadows and the encroaching mist. The moon lingered high above, watching him as he rode toward the unknown.

For the first time in his life, the Hunter felt something unfamiliar—a flicker of uncertainty, a world beyond the blood and the hunt.

And so, the Hunter’s journey began, not with the roar of a beast or the strike of a blade, but with the quiet resolve of a boy stepping out of the past and into the future.

The Hunter, after a long Journey reached beacon though the side forest and approached horseback to the main station, where these oddly flying machines descended with people exiting them. Such inventions were acts of powers beyond his comprehension.

His feet leapt off the ghostly mare as onlookers watched, he checked his saddlebags and saw everything was of collection. A lantern, clothing, his saw cleaver, hunters pistol with an array of silver bullets, even a notebook to log his thoughts, dreams, and progress of the scourge. He ruffled though them, and found something he did not put there. An old claw shaped badge, meant to wrap around the neck. An old hunters badge, The badge was a special privilege for the hunters of the past, and should not be dishonored. It should be left in peace, unless one is truly prepared to assume the will of those gone before. The Hunter removed his mask and hood, letting his slight neck length silver blonde hair aloof in the wind. He placed the badge around his neck, and put his hat back on. He gripped his saddlebags but a voice rang out nearby.

“What are you doing?!”

“Uh, sorry!”

“Sorry?! Do you have any idea of the damage you could have caused? What are you, brain-dead? This is Dust! Dust! Fire, water, lightning, energy!” The Hunter turned to see a Pale, Regal looking girl in all white, not very happy with another girl in Red and Black.

“Are you even listening to me? Is any of this sinking in? What do you have to say for yourself?!” The Snow White woman said, the girl in red, sneezed, and the dust collided into an explosion, causing soot all over her white dress, and she freaks out.

“This is exactly the kind of thing I was talking about!” She screamed.,

“I'm really, really sorry!” The girl in red relented.

“Ugh, you complete dolt! What are you even doing here? Aren't you a little young to be attending Beacon?” She scoffed, dusting herself off. And leaving in fumes, the girl sat a bit sad. She fidgeted with Crescent Rose, Her mind wandered, and she sighed deeply.

“That went well…” she muttered to herself.

Suddenly, a voice cut through her thoughts,

“That was, uncomfortable” he says. Ruby looked up, surprised by the sound. There, standing with an almost eerie calm, was a tall figure. His dark coat swayed lightly with the breeze, and his wide-brimmed hat cast a shadow over his pale face, leaving his eyes as the only visible feature—cold, calculating, yet somehow distant.

“Uh… excuse me?” Ruby asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

The man’s lips barely moved as he spoke again. “She wronged you. But she cannot see it.”

Ruby blinked, not sure whether this person was speaking in riddles or just observing what happened. “You mean Weiss? Yeah… I broke her Dust vial and things kinda blew up after that. My bad…”

“No,” he said, his voice even. “Her reaction was unwarranted.”

“Yeah, well, I guess she’s… kinda like that sometimes…” Ruby muttered, looking down at the broken vial, still processing it all. He offered his hand, and the girl took it and helped her up.

“I’m Ruby, by the way! Ruby Rose, what’s your name?” she said, extending her hand.

He looked at her outstretched hand for a moment, as if unsure of the gesture’s meaning. Eventually, he took it with an almost deliberate coldness, shaking it briefly before releasing it.

“I.. i…I don’t have a name,” he said a bit conflicted, “or.. perhaps it’s forgotten it.”, his gaze drifting towards the nearby trees, as though lost in thought.

Ruby blinked in a bit of shock. “No name? Well… that’s kinda weird, but alright.” She smiled warmly at him. “You can be… (Y/n). You look like a (Y/n).”

He didn’t respond immediately, merely nodding once in acknowledgment, as if Ruby’s suggestion held some form of understanding.

“(Y/n), huh?” Ruby said, giggling a little. “I mean, I think it fits you. Kinda mysterious, cool… a little weird, though.”

(Y/n) looked at her, his face unsure. “Weird, is it?” Ruby shrugged, the smile never leaving her face. “Yeah, but in a good way! You’re definitely not like anyone else I’ve met. But you’re… pretty cool, too.”

“Cool? As in the cold?” He asked, Ruby tilts her head, “You’re.. not from around here, are you?” She smiled, the hunters clothing could tell. “I.. suppose one could make that inference.” He replied, the duo walk to Beacon Academy's giant auditorium, filled with people. Ruby looks over when she hears a voice.

“Ruby! Over here! I saved you a spot!” She yelled, Ruby turned turned to (Y/n).

“Oh! Hey, I-I gotta go! I'll see you after the ceremony!” Ruby ran off, leaving the hunter by himself. He was fine with this, as he’s had long hunts alone. Unfortunately, the worst person decided to speak to him.

“Hey, man! You’re new here, right? I’m Jaune Arc, rookie Hunter! But you can call me Jaune, no need for formalities.” He gave an awkward salute, trying to appear confident.

The Hunter didn’t respond right away, he folded his arms, and slowly turned to Jaune. After a long, heavy pause, he raised an eyebrow. “You… are the one they call a Hunter?” His tone was neutral, but there was an underlying question that made Jaune second-guess himself.

“Uh… yeah? I mean, I’m still learning a lot, but I’m totally up for anything!” Jaune puffed out his chest, trying his best to exude some form of bravado, to impress the oddly imposing (Y/n), who didn’t say anything. The tension could be cut with a knife as jaune awkwardly rubbed the back of his head.

Their “conversation” was ended when Professor Ozpin approaches the microphone upon the stage. readying the microphone, with Glynda beside him. He slowly leaned into the Mic.

“I'll... keep this brief. You have traveled here today in search of knowledge, to hone your craft and acquire new skills, and when you have finished, you plan to dedicate your life to the protection of the people. But I look amongst you, and all I see is wasted energy, in need of purpose, direction. You assume knowledge will free you of this, but your time at this school will prove that knowledge can only carry you so far. It is up to you to take the first step.” Ozpin left very, interesting advice, before departing. Letting Glynda take the microphone

“You will gather in the ballroom tonight; tomorrow, your initiation begins. Be ready. You are dismissed.” Glynda gave the order and the teenagers begin to shuffle out of the building.

The hunter sat in the corner, in sleepwear, mostly an open Pajama coat. He writes into his journal, his first of many entries, using a journal to press his thoughts into reality, keeping some, sanity.

“Today, I witnessed innocence in its purest form—students with unblemished dreams and hopes untainted by despair. I envy them. I no longer possess such luxury.

The girl named Ruby… idealistic, bright-eyed, I believe she is too eager for the dangers of the hunt. Her optimism is disarming, though perhaps I needed that. When she offered me a name, I accepted without hesitation. I wonder why? Human connection seems, offputting.

This Weiss Schnee is another matter. She is cold and sharp, her sense of pride is obvious but overwhelming, perhaps we cross paths, or blades in the future.

The blond fool, Jaune, tried to befriend me. His bravery borders on idiocy. Still, there’s something admirable in his persistence.

This place, Beacon, is nothing like the Workshop. No dim lanterns, no stench of blood, no haunts in the night. And yet, I feel as if this shall not last.

Tonight, I wonder if I made the right choice in coming here. Still, I cannot deny the flicker of something unfamiliar in my chest—hope. Strange. I thought I had long since abandoned such notions that this scourge should perish..

But for now, I remain vigilant. The old blood runs through my veins, and the hunt must go on.”

— (Y/n).

Note: Let me know if you want to read more, I have maybe 14 more chapters of this on my Wattpad I can bring here, thanks!

[bugsfavoriteclown]

Jester!Buggy x Royal!R

Word Count: 1.1k Warnings: Yandereish? Genre: Romantic, Enemies to Lovers, Fantasy AU

———————————————————————

Jester!Buggy who pledges himself to your kingdom completely, devoting his entire being to pleasing your court in hopes of one day gaining your trust, desperate for power to be in his favor for once in his life.

Jester!Buggy who swipes as many valuables as he can from your castle halls without getting caught. Pocketing and taking them out to the market to pawn off to smugglers and citizens at varying prices.

Jester!Buggy who hates everything about you. He can’t stand the fact that you have his entire life in his hands and would overthrow you in a second if he was given the chance.

Jester!Buggy who hides his disdain for you through the jokes he makes. The only part of his job that he likes is that he can openly mock you and how you rule the country and hide it behind the mask of entertainment.

Jester!Buggy who has been planning your assassination since before he even began working for you. Who almost needs to have that same feeling of control you do, just to see what it's like. Who plans to coerce you into a vulnerable position where he can demand things from you instead. Who wants a taste of what it's like to be on the top of the caste system for once in his life.

Jester!Buggy who does like the fact that he can request any type of outfit to be paroled specifically for himself. He’s glad he can at least be granted a variety of clothes that he gets completely for free.

Jester!Buggy who slowly starts to feel himself soften whenever you smile at one of his jokes. Who almost chases the joyful gleam in your eyes when you find something he said funny. Who loves that you always call him back to cheer you up when you're sad as if he's the only one capable enough.

Jester!Buggy who starts to sneak into the castle's kitchens and steals small treats and snacks for you to eat when you have a break in the day.

Jester!Buggy who finds that he actually looks forward to performing in your court. Who feels a sense of pride at the thought that you brag about your wonderful, talented jester to other rulers in other kingdoms.

Jester!Buggy who starts stealing from other kingdoms when you take him with you during your visits. Who goes back home and either sells them or uses them as a replacement for other things he's stolen.

Jester!Buggy who starts to fear for your safety when Alvida, and the other bandits he's been selling to, begin asking why he hasn't been coming back with any new information lately. Demanding that he bring them back something they can use for the upcoming ambush they've been meticulously planning or they'll take it upon themselves.

Jester!Buggy who wants to warn you so badly but can't because he doesn't want to put any suspicion on himself out of fear of losing his job and position beside you. Who's too afraid to explain to you why he knows so much about the conspiracy being organized against you.

Jester!Buggy who, instead, goes to visit Shanks, one of your most valued knights, and begs for him to keep a closer eye out because there may be some type of scheme cooking up in the shadows. Who knows he’ll take what he says seriously without outing him for any of his past crimes.

Jester!Buggy who feels better about not having to fear you getting hurt, but is now starting to feel jealous at how often he sees you and Shanks walking together in the gardens. It pisses him off even more knowing that this is exactly what he asked him to do and so he can’t really be upset about it.

Jester!Buggy who continues to visit you during your breaks, but now also comes to see you at later times in the night because he’s memorized your sleep habits. At first, it was so he could pick the right time to rob you blind, but now he uses it to find good times to see you without it being a disturbance.

Jester!Buggy who starts getting noticeably more possessive over you when he spots Alvida and the rest of her posse near the castle walls one night as he’s on his way to see you.

Jester!Buggy who approaches Alvida and threatens to get her and the others executed if they keep snooping closer to you. But they only laugh as they know he doesn’t have that power and can’t stop them on his own, only making him angrier at the entire thing.

Jester!Buggy who has to find creative ways to play off his clinginess because he’d be damned if they got a hold of you in any way. Who is now always seen accompanying you as you wander from room to room in the castle, playing it off as him trying to learn more about you so he can entertain you better.

Jester!Buggy who offers to go to the markets for you and to help escort you on stage when you have to speak to the public, all with a knife up his sleeve and eyes roaming the crowds.

Jester!Buggy who uses the extra cash he has on him to hire mercenaries to keep watch on anyone he deems suspicious. Specifically Alvida and everyone else associated with her.

Jester!Buggy who starts to reveal to you the kind of person he actually is. Who starts displaying his more violent disposition and knack for murder, all things you weren’t aware of when you had first hired him. Who's ready to kill for you and makes that aspect painfully clear.

Jester!Buggy who does kill for you after someone tries pickpocketing you during your stroll through the country. Who noticed something was off immediately and stabbed the perpetrator before they could get any further with your things.

Jester!Buggy who begins to almost worship you. Who treats you far more gently than anyone else around him and is ready to drop anything on your whim. Who feels his body begin to react in ways he never thought possible whenever he sees you upset.

Jester!Buggy who would do anything to be closer to you, but can't ever seem to find the appropriate time to do so since you're his boss, and he was only ever meant to be your toy. Who is only supposed to enter the room on your terms. Who wasn't intended to be anything more than a worker.

Jester!Buggy who pledges himself to your kingdom completely, devoting his entire being to pleasing your court, but this time in hopes of pleasing you as well. Who would be anything you wanted him to be if you demanded it of him. Who would do anything if it meant he'd be able to spend more time with you.

[lilacmingi]

NIGHTS LIKE THESE

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you are under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Seonghwa x fem reader

Word count: 890

Note: It’s 4 AM and the need to write a soft imagine about playing with Seonghwa’s hair was too strong I HAD TO GET IT OUT OF MY SYSTEM THIS WAS ONLY SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE 300 WORDS BUT I GOT CARRIED AWAY

Seonghwa lied on his stomach, stretched across the expanse of his bed, his Nintendo Switch clutched between his hands as he played Animal Crossing, winding down after a long day of promotions. You sat beside him, watching as he moved his avatar across his camp, the miniature version of himself stopping to greet villagers and give them gifts to level up his friendships.

It was peaceful. You relished in moments like this where the both of you were completely silent, basking in each other’s presence while doing your own things, or doing nothing at all.

Your eyes drifted from the screen to the top of Seonghwa's head. He had recently grown his hair out and you were loving it. Since he had showered earlier that night it was flat and in it's natural state, the light from his desk lamp hitting the shiny brown strands and giving him a natural halo. The sight was tempting and had your fingers twitching in your lap.

Unable to keep your hands to yourself, you reached forward and carded your fingers through his soft tresses, the silky strands feeling like ribbons between your fingers. Seonghwa visibly relaxed under your touch, a soft sigh leaving his pretty lips.

"That feels good." He murmured.

You chuckled softly, lifting a strand and twirling it around your index finger, watching the way it uncurled when you released it.

Does he know how beautiful he is? You wondered, taking a piece of his hair and separating it into three strands to braid.

Your fingers worked diligently while you watched Seonghwa's Animal Crossing character cast his fishing lure out into the ocean, waiting for the shadow of a fish to approach. Once the chunk of hair was fully braided you released it, running your fingers through it and separating the twisted pieces, combing your nails through his hair a few times to get all the strands back in order.

A gasp came from your boyfriend just a few seconds later making you jump slightly, momentarily concerned that you had hurt him.

"Babe, look! I caught a Mahi-Mahi! It’s my first time ever and this is one of the rare ones.” He showed you the screen, his tiny character presenting the fish proudly.

The way Seonghwa’s eyes glimmered with joy at his catch made your heart turn to mush. He may be a grown man in his mid-20s that can tear up the stage and put on a show-stopping performance, but at the end of the day he’s a gentle, kindhearted individual that finds happiness in things like playing Animal Crossing and assembling Star Wars Lego sets.

“Wow.” You marveled. “And this one’s rare you said?”

“Mhm.” He nodded excitedly. “Its worth a lot too so I think I’m gonna sell it. I need a few hundred more bells to buy this lamp I’ve been looking at for my house.”

“Can I see it?”

Seonghwa’s face lit up at your request. “Yes. Hang on just a second.”

You continued to run your fingers through his hair while he fiddled with the controls, going to the shop so he could show you the lamp he wanted so badly.

“Here it is. It’s chrome silver.”

You chuckled softly, finding his love for glossy chrome silver endearing.

“That’s right up your alley.”

“That’s why I have to have it.”

You continued playing with his long hair and watching him play Animal Crossing until his actions became slower and more sluggish. Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa had been fighting sleep, the drowsiness brought on by your gentle ministrations. He could no longer force his eyes to stay open and exited out of his game, turning the Switch off, setting it aside on his nightstand before rolling onto his back and resting his head in your lap.

“Had enough Animal Crossing for the night?” You inquired, combing his bangs away from his face so you could look at his features.

He hummed in response. “You made me sleepy.”

“Oops.”

His eyes closed briefly, his dark lashes resting delicately on his cheeks. The pads of your fingers traced the side of his face making him crack a small smile, his eyes opening to look up at you.

“Sorry.” You apologized quietly. “You’re just so pretty.”

He fought back a shy grin, turning his head to compose himself and calm the butterflies that tickled his stomach. His gaze met yours once again and he was overwhelmed with a sense of adoration.

“Kiss?”

The one word request was simple and one you couldn’t possibly refuse. You started to lean down only for Seonghwa to raise himself up to meet you halfway, your lips meeting somewhere in the middle. Your eyelids slid closed upon contact, a warm feeling seeping into your chest at the sensation of Seonghwa’s plush lips moving against your own, their softness making your head spin. Your hand moved to hold the back of his head, fingers unconsciously sliding into his silky hair to grab a handful of it. He released a soft sigh into your mouth, parting ways and lowering himself back down to your lap. His hand moved up to cup your cheek, his thumb dragging across your bottom lip.

“I love you.”

A gentle smile graced your features. “I love you too, Hwa.”

“Can you play with my hair again?”

“Of course.”

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

[rreskk]

ASLEEP

Summary: Trevor has a habit of acting upon his urges. You woke the moment before he could, and you made him deal with the mess himself.

TW: Smut

Pairings: Fem!reader/ Trevor Philips

Word count: 1489

Trevor dragged his legs across the wooden porch and opened the door with his prominent hips, eyes immediately searching for you in this needy, horrifically restless state. His heartbeats were rapid and he was experiencing a haze of sobriety for the first time in a while. It was taking a toll on him, explaining the random bursts of deprivation where the meth would “cure” it.

 He grumbled when you were absent from the main room until he peeked his head through the bedroom doorway, seeing you sprawled out on his bed, asleep. He promised to be back hours early so he couldn’t blame you for sleeping, yet he was crossed. His brows furrowed and he dragged his heavy legs towards the bed. You were sleeping so effortlessly. It made him think you weren’t excited for his return despite spending time together the morning prior. Spending time, he really meant arguing but he refused to see the fault being him.

“Hey.” He murmured into your ear, gaining no verbal response. Instead, you snuggled further into his mangled sheets and breathed out with ease. Your face, light and peaceful, without his comfort.

Trevor placed a finger and outlined your shoulder, caressing the barely exposed skin but calming down at the physical touch. Unconscious or not, he really needed to be praised with your attention. Even if he doesn’t deserve it.

“Hey.” He repeated and properly loomed over you. His frame shadowed and blocked out the light from his lamp, hiding the small details on your face, making the warmness turn cold. And you remained dead.

This was not aiding his pining aches. Trevor fantasised about you rushing to his side with the click of his fingers, like a nurturing maid; a motherless mother, an emotionally-available whore, a bitchcraft witch to cast spells upon the desires he wants. Yet, right now, you were doing nothing.

“C’mon…” He tugged onto your shirt like a little boy, “I’m back. Wake up.”

Still, the trailer was silent and deadly. He was alone with his thoughts again.

Trevor whined softly before greeting his impulses – a habit he does when vulnerable – throwing off the sheets that covered your static body, displaying the lazy clothes that clung sheepishly around your curves and limbs. You were too much of a heavy sleeper to recognise a hand following your backside, giving you a small squeeze, fondling around your hips, worshipping your stomach through the thin T-shirt.  

“Sugar, angel,” Trevor addressed while lining his lips against your jaw, “I really want you right now. Wake up for me, I need you.”

He hoped you’d at least hear him through your sleep, just enough convincing to tear you from that slumber, but his impatience was running low and he couldn’t stop himself. Like a pathetic dog, so lost without his owner. So lost that he crawled over your body and gently positioned your knee upwards. If you weren’t going to wake up, he’s just going to use what he can get. Even if that was the most bare minimum pleasure.

His hands toyed around with his waistline and slowly edged it down and around his thighs. Then he hovered over your knee, his bulge safe behind the tight whites, holding back the source of his desires where it itched and ached. Trevor was so hard, grunting when he swiftly pressed his crotch against your knee, moving his hips in circles, grinding towards the bone,  getting the real feel before deciding it was too little for his preference. Your knee, though bony, had no warmth or skin to provide a replicate of your sex.

With his mental humor cutting short, his fingers intertwined with yours and waited for a minute to ensure you were not faking the rest. Trevor’s eyes drifted to your goddess of a face, finding himself smiling at how lucky he was to have lured such a beauty. Although you may have fell asleep to avoid the bitterness of the fight, you still looked like a blooming flower, a diamond in the rough. He fell forward and praised your neck with kisses, his crotch unconsciously falling into your knee again, hitting the right spot where he gasped into your skin.

“Oh, fuck.” It slipped out from his tongue, hurting so good.

The bone struct the burning heat and he grinded into it repeatedly, treating you like a free palace to roam.

Trevor whined into your ear as he hump dried your knee intensely. He was so self-indulged that he was apathetic at your awakening. His eyes fell onto your open ones and he could only moan out your name in greeting.

You struggled to process what he was doing until he pulled up the rugged T-shirt where your breasts fell into his palms, perfectly fitting as he groped, played, squished, pinched the size. The rough pressure made you groan softly. Allowing him to captivate your breasts.

“Mmm…” He communicated through small phases of moaning.

“Are you close?” You whispered, treating him like a low-life subhuman.

Trevor was not afraid of eye-content and nodded proudly. His white briefs were heavy with arousal and you could feel the damp pre-cum from the fabric grind into your knee. It left wetness smear across the skin. Hot smear.

“That’s right,” You smirked, “C’mon. You can do better. Can’t you?”

“Mhm…” He winced.

“Let me help.” Thinking you were going to portray the fantasy he’s been dreaming of, harsh reality betrayed the expectation that buried his mind. Trevor threw his head back and cried with pain and pleasure, feeling you kick him with the knee, the brutality behind your actions making him shrivel up on bed beside you, cowering his crotch for protection and comfort.

“Fuck, fuck!” Trevor said through gritted teeth and closed eyes.

“That’s what you get for waking me up.” You scoffed and proceeded to grab the bulge for yourself. It sat in the palm of your head, soaked and used. You gripped and recognised the shape of his boner twitching. It shrivelled into your hand, like a deer in headlights.

His whole body went into shock when you gave him the abuse. Trevor wobbled out your name with his quivered lips, hoping you’d take mercy on him.

“Ohh, poor baby… You just want to cum. You wanna use me without my consent?” You continued to mock.

“M’no. No. No – “

“Do you know what happens to dirty animals like you?”

“Mommy, I’m sorry.” Trevor urged.

“Oh, so now you call me mommy. You think treating your mommy like that is nice?”

“I’m sorry!” He cradled your hand that held his crotch tightly, thumb caressing yours.

“Mommy’s not going to help you, Trev. You gotta make yourself cum, yeah?” You murmured.

His face fell at this proposal and he shook frantically, “No. C’mon, no. That’s not fair.”

“You need me?”

“I really need you. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“Where were the calls or messages?” You challenged.

“I – “

“You don’t deserve to be helped. Mommy will watch you instead. I’ll make sure you’re getting exactly what you deserve.”

“Ohhh…” It seems as though Trevor accepted his fate.

When you released his crotch from your white-knuckled fist, he immediately went to work in front of you, his briefs torn from his hips and exposing that ugly mess of a cock. He was already in the middle of an orgasm when inserting freedom, sloppily jerking himself off in front of your eyes.

His Adams-apple trembled in his throat and he glanced to the ceiling, cum draping them sore hands that were sweating with arousal and emotional stress. At this point, he forgot you existed and focussed on relieving himself.

“Fuck, fuck… God!” Trevor’s waist fell into spasms when another orgasm was quickly approaching.

You were amazed to watch him experience so much at once. You knew of his short activity rate, but now you were seeing it when it comes to masturbation.

“Ah, fuck… I’m gonna fuckin’ cum again – “ He said, looking directly at you, “Watch me, mommy. Watch me.”

“I’m watching baby.” You reassured with a smirk, head resting against the bed railing.

This was the push he needed. Trevor arched his back and came again. However, this time, it was strong. His cock twitched dramatically as he oozed cum, dampening the sheets underneath but also his thighs. His skin being dressed by this warm and white sensation.

“Ohhhh!” You heard him moan loudly and through the night.

His body fell back and he exhaled with defeat. You stayed silent while he maintained the usual composure but it never returned.

Trevor only whined for you again, calling you “mommy” and shuffling close to your body as if you were attached like glue. It was weird yet you enjoyed the submissive nature when he grew needy. Always when he was sober.

“Good boy.” You whispered and kissed behind his ear.

The man shuddered but said nothing, only embracing your body.

[cielcreations]

"Special Card" (SoliTango/Rancher Duo)

Idea based off @hybbart's Deepfrost Cast AU (aka, the AU where Solidarity is a guide for Decked Out)

"What's this card?"

"What card?" Tango replied, not looking at his communicator, opting to continue to make sure everything was okay (because god forbid if even one piece of redstone gets messed up).

"I don't know, I just never seen it and it appeared."

"What does it say, Hypno?"

"The title just says 'Canary'. There's nothing else-"

"Ah, so you're the first to get that card to show itself." Tango smirked, standing up straight, "Tell you what Hypno, that card is free. Consider it a... playtest for your next run."

"Seriously?! Wait, what does it do?"

"That's for you to find out. But I will give you a word of advice-" Tango smirked more to himself, "-make sure to take care of the canary. Go ahead, spend the rest of your Frost Embers and get out of there, Cub is next."

"Alright! Thanks, Tango! I'm excited!"

The call ended when a message popped up in chat; Hypnotizd was slain by nothing, they survived Decked Out!

Tango chuckled, "I'm surprised you chose him. I for sure thought you would choose Scar."

There was a flutter behind him.

"Alright, alright, have fun. I'll go prepare for the next round."

***

Hypno rode down the minecart as he once again entered Decked Out. When he reached the end, the doors opened, but no compass was given.

"Oh god, hey, Tango, I think-"

Before he could finish, Hypno watched as the canary card fell down where the compass should be. He gasped, stumbling back as a yellow glow came from the card, snuffing out all the light, a silhouette appearing where the card once was. When the card landed on the ground, it instantly vanished, the silhouette slowly taking shape. Two large wings appeared from it's back as it stood up, a large fluffy jacket resting on the male silhouette. They reached into their jacket, taking out a small cage with a yellow light.

The lanterns, torches, and all other lights returned, showing a tall dirty blonde man, staring down at him brown eyes with blue diamond pupils, blue eye shadow resting on his top eyelid, blue freckles and glitters decorating his nose and cheeks that Hypno could see, as a gas mask covered half his face.

"....Woah..." Hypno simply said, in awe, "...Are... Are you the Canary?"

The dirty blonde nodded, bowing a bit. He then took out another thing from his jacket, avoiding the necklace around his neck before he took out a recorder. He handed it to Hypno, the man pressing play.

"Congratulations!" Tango's voice came from the recorder, "You have managed to obtain the Canary card! Now, the Canary is a special thing! He will lead you to the artifact as well as the exit as safely as he can! However, that is not all! You see, the Canary increases the amount of treasure that may be hiding in the dungeon, he decreases your noise volume which means it's harder to generate Clanks, and the Hazard speed decreases! Oh yeah, the Canary is a powerful card.

However, make sure to take care of him. He will be your guide to the exit. One way or another."

Hypno's eyes were wide as he then looked at the Canary, "You do all that?!"

The Canary blushed a light blue, closing his eyes, as if laughing silently. He then bowed and turned around, the doors opening. Hypno stood up and began to follow the Canary, the dirty blonde humming. As they walked, the Canary held out the cage, Hypno noticing the yellow light moving back and forth, acting as the compass, all while the Canary hummed a small tune.

"Uh, nice song. Does it have a name?" Hypno tried to make small talk.

The Canary seemed to ignore him, choosing instead to continue the song.

"Right.... Well, do you have a name?"

Again, nothing, just more singing.

"Okay..." Hypno smiled awkwardly, "Well, I guess we don't need to have small chitchat to find the artifact... Oh, uh, can you tell me how you can track more treasure? Or do you just track down artifacts and the exit?"

The singing stopped and the Canary turned to Hypno. He grabbed the recorder and pressed play, Tango's voice repeating.

"Hey, I was just-"

The Canary held up one finger before pausing the recorder. He pointed to it, as if to say "listen".

"-the Canary increases the amount of treasure that may be hiding in the dungeon-" The Canary pauses the recorder before blinking at Hypno.

"...Oh, you just increase the amount, can't find it?"

The Canary shook his head.

Hypno nodded, "Okay, I get it now... Can you find the exit anywhere?"

The Canary nodded.

"So, if I wanted to look for more treasure, would you come with me?"

The Canary seemed to smile under his mask and nodded.

Hypno chuckled, "Alright, I'll just tell you when I'm ready then!"

The Canary nodded once more before turning around, humming a song once more as he led the way towards the artifact. They sat in silence, Hypno occasionally seeing some coins and running to get them before following the dirty blonde once more.

Eventually, the Canary stopped and Hypno nearly ran into him.

"Oh-" Hypno stopped, "You okay?"

The Canary held the cage up, opening the door. Hypno watched as the light flew out and sunk into the ground in front of them. When it returned, it circled around an artifact, Hypno gasping and running over to grab it. The light flew back to the Canary and into the cage, the dirty blonde closing the door of it.

Hypno picked up the artifact, "Jar of Speedy Slime! Not too bad! I think it's worth at least-" He looked up, gasping.

The Canary brushed off his coat and, before he could look up at Hypno, the man ran past him in fear of a Ravenger.

"S-SORRY CANARY! I THINK I CAN FIND THE EXIT ON MY OWN THOUGH!"

Hypno went to run out of the door, but the corridor closed. He gasped and turned around, ready to meet the end of a Ravenger's horn. Instead, he saw the Canary standing in front of the Ravenger, looking down, the light in the cage spinning in loops.

"Oh? Wait, are you friends with the Raven-"

Hypno gasped, the heartbeat echoing in the dungeon as fast as it could. All the corridors closed, screeches of Vexes echoing with the slowly crumbling dungeon. The Ravenger lifted itself on it's back legs as it let out a roar, the light going haywire.

"C-Canary?"

The Canary spread his wings out, looking up, the blue diamonds turning to a blood red as he glared at Hypno. The arrow on his necklace turned upside down as the light exploded in the cage, yellow birds circling the room akin to ravens circling their prey.

Hypno's eyes were wide as he realized what was going on.

He will be your guide to the exit. One way or another.

Hypnotizd was slain by The Canary and His Coalmine.

***

"WHAT?!" "WAIT, HUH?!" "TANGO, WHAT WAS THAT?!" "WHAT KIND OF DEATH MESSAGE IS THAT?!"

Tango chuckled, turning to Hypno as he entered the waiting room, "Well, well, well, looks like someone didn't take care of the Canary."

Hypno groaned, "DUDE! I didn't know that would happen!"

"I told you to take care of him!" Tango laughed. Suddenly, a blue ball of light came from the wall, circling around the Dungeon Master. He held out his hand and it rested over it, making the blaze chuckle, "The Canary is a powerful and really good card, but he only shows when he wants to. But with any good card comes it's disadvantage." He then turned, smiling, "Alright, I believe it's Grian's turn?"

"Oh, right, right!" The avian ran over, "Wish me luck!"

Everyone wished Grian luck before Tango excused himself to go behind the scenes. Once he was sure no one would see or hear him, he extended his hand out. The light turned into a silhouette, which turned in none other than the Canary.

"Hello, my canary." The blaze smiled, blushing a blue tint, "Quite a run, are you alright?"

The dirty blonde removed his mask and smiled, nodding, "I'm fine! The Ravangers and Vexes didn't hurt me! Though, I did feel bad for Hypno, he just got scared."

Tango cupped his cheeks, "Oh Solidarity, my canary, it's what he gets if he chose to abandon you. He was warned."

"I know, I know. It's just going to take some getting used to. I know how competitive everyone is, I just don't like being the cause of death..."

"You're so sweet, this is why I love you!" Tango kissed his cheek.

Solidarity giggled, blushing blue, "Tangooooo~! Stop it~!"

"Nuh-uh! It's Kiss the Canary Time! I don't make the rules!"

The dirty blonde blushed more and giggled, letting the other do as he pleased, happily sharing kisses with the blaze.

[bloodandlegacy]

XXII: The Night Before Forever

March 21, 1891

I cannot control it.

Everything in it.Everything in me.It screams.

The book is useless. I have scoured through it for hours, days, months, searching for something—anything—that would make it all make sense. That would give me an answer. But it only deals in possibilities. It may. It might. It could.

And yet, it could not.

I thought I had time.I told myself I had weeks.That was months ago.

Now, there is nothing left to find. Nothing left to learn.Tomorrow.

The last loose end is the book. I will return it, and then—No matter if Juniper is ready or not—I will go.

Because I have to.Because if I don’t—I fear I never will.

______________________________________________________________

The day passes in pieces.

It slips through my fingers, one moment at a time, and I let it.

I let myself have this.

One last morning in the Great Hall, where Juniper nudges me with her elbow and smirks when she catches me staring too long at my plate, lost in thought. I force a laugh, but she knows me too well. She doesn’t push.

One last afternoon in the Undercroft, where Sebastian sprawls against the stone wall, grinning as he flips his wand between his fingers, effortlessly, recklessly. “We should duel,” he says. ““Unless you’re worried I’ll finally put you in your place.”

I roll my eyes, but I say yes.

He wins. Of course he does. But I don’t make it easy.

Ominis sits in the corner, arms crossed, expression unreadable, though I catch the flicker of amusement when Sebastian nearly eats the floor after dodging a particularly sharp Expelliarmus.

I want to tell them. I want to say it out loud.

That this is goodbye.

That this moment, right here, with the warmth of their laughter echoing in the cavernous space, with the weight of something unspoken pressing against my ribs, will be the last.

But I can’t.

So I just listen. I let them bicker, let them exist in this time where I still belong. Where I am still here.

I don’t realize how late it’s gotten until the castle has begun to quiet.

The fire crackles low in the hearth, casting long shadows against the walls, as if the castle itself knows what’s coming.

Sebastian stretched his arms over his head, yawned obnoxiously, and declared, “I swear, if I hear you pacing past midnight again, Andromeda, I’m hexing your feet to the floor.”

I’d smirked. “As if you could.”

He’d only rolled his eyes, muttering something about stubborn witches before retreating to the boys’ dormitory.

As the door shut behind Sebastian, Ominis moved closer, his presence warm beside me. Without a word, he reached for the book resting in my lap, his fingers brushing mine as he gently closed it. My breath caught, but I didn’t resist when he set it aside.

Ominis pulled me in, careful yet certain, until my head rested against his chest.  My breath caught slightly, surprised by the closeness, by the steady, rhythmic sound of his heartbeat beneath my ear. 

For a moment, I simply listened.

I don’t know what compels me to speak, only that the words rise from somewhere deep within me.

“I love you.”

His heartbeat faltered, a sharp, startled skip.

The silence that followed stretched unbearably long. I could feel his breath against my hair, the way his grip on me tightened ever so slightly. And then—

His fingers tilted my chin up, and before I could think— 

His lips were on mine, hungry, fierce, as if he wished to consume me. I wanted to stay in this moment forever, drinking him in, memorizing every detail. His hand tangled in my hair, firm, dominating yet gentle, holding me to him as his lips claimed mine.

When we finally pulled apart, his breath warm against my skin, “I love you,” he whispered, his lips brushing my forehead in a soft, reverent gesture.

Then, barely above a murmur, he said, “It’s getting late.”

If only he knew this was our last night together. He would stay a little longer

It’s probably better to end the night here. Better to end the night than get swept up in something we can’t take back.

He lingered for a moment before finally standing, and I watched as he disappeared up the stairs.

And I sat there, my lips still tingling, my heart still racing. More torn than ever.

How do you say goodbye to someone you can’t bear to leave?

How do you tell someone that  you will think of them across time itself?

I don’t have the words.

So I settle for something simple. Something he can carry. A letter.

______________________________________________________________

Dear Ominis,

I don’t know how to begin, only that I must. And I must write quickly before I lose the resolve to do what is right.

I love you. I need you to understand that before you read another word. I love you enough to trust you with the truth, even if it means you will hate me for it. I love you enough to ask you to let me go.

My father was Morfin Gaunt, and his father was Marvolo—a name you know well. To you, he is just your younger brother, not yet shaped by the weight of this name. To me, he is a ghost of a future already written, a man who will carry on the worst of our bloodline, who will carve hatred into his own flesh and pass it down like an inheritance. 

I am not just some distant thread of the tapestry. I am its frayed and broken edge, woven in blood and bound in curses. My existence is a paradox, Ominis. I was never meant to be, and yet I am.

Because I do not belong here.

I have not told you everything, but you deserve the truth.

I came to this time through means I shouldn’t have. I used a time-turner, a relic that has pulled me from the world I know, and brought me here. I have tried, Ominis. I have tried to ignore the ticking of time unraveling beneath my feet. But every day I stay here, I am defying something far greater than magic.

I cannot stay.

I wish I could be standing before you as you read this. I would give anything to take your hand, to make you understand that this does not change what I have been to you. That I am still me, the girl who sat with you in the Undercroft, who laughed with you in quiet corridors, who trusted you when she trusted no one else.

But there is no place for me in this time. No place for us.

I didn’t want to hurt you. That was never supposed to happen. But you have to listen to me now. You cannot come looking for me. Promise me, Ominis. Swear it.

I know you. I know the way your mind works, the way your loyalty binds you to those you love. And that is why I am afraid. Because if you search for me, you will ruin yourself in the process.

So let me be a ghost. Let me become nothing more than a story you tell yourself when the nights are too long and your heart aches for something lost. Hate me if you must, but do not follow me.

You once asked me if I believed in fate. If I thought we were meant to meet, meant to be part of each other’s lives. I told you I didn’t know.

I know now.

We were always meant to meet, Ominis. But we were never meant to last.

You told me that love was not meant to be cruel. That it should not hurt like this. Perhaps that is true. But I have never known love that was not tied to suffering. And this—this is the cruelest love of all.

So I will say it once more, so that there is no doubt, no room for questions or second guesses:

I love you, Ominis Gaunt. But I am leaving.

And you must let me.

Yours in another life,

Andromeda

[maddithefangirl]

A Third - Chapter 2

Summary: When Rhys starts seeing a mystery female in his dreams like he did before Feyre, what does this do to their relationship, and who is that female?

a/n: ahhhh this chapter was like pulling teeth to write, but it's here! I have an idea where I want this to go but I'm not sure how it'll all pan out. Please enjoy!

════ *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ════════ *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ════════ *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ════

“We have to go find her,” Rhys declared to Feyre in their private quarters. 

“Well, how are you going to do that?” she bit back. She was a little bitter at the thought. As much as she wanted him to be happy, she wanted him for herself. 

He didn’t know where to begin. Maybe he could use Azriel to find her with his shadows. But how would he find her? He had nothing really to go off of besides the dreams. The dreams. He needed to do a deep dive into his dreams. But he never wanted to relive the pain of that last nightmare. Maybe that was what he had to do in order to find his mystery mate. 

…

Days went by, and he still couldn’t relive that nightmare. He couldn’t ask Feyre to live it for him, either. Maybe he did need more help with this. So, he was going to bring it up at the next Inner Circle dinner. 

…

The dinner came sooner than he expected, and he had no idea where it was going to go. 

The sun was setting on the horizon as the Sidra glistened from the light. The Riverhouse was beautiful at this time of day. 

Rhys was nervous for the first time in a long time. He didn’t know what to do with himself. As everyone arrived, his heart rate skyrocketed. He was the High Lord for Cauldron’s sake. Why was he so worried?

He sat down at the head of the table with his beautiful High Lady beside him and he was ready for his announcement, “Everyone, I gathered you here tonight because I have a problem that I need my closest friends' input.” Now that got their attention. 

“What is it, Rhys?” Cassian asked.

“I… I think I have another mate.”

The room went quiet. Eyes went from Rhys to Feyre and back to Rhys again. Everyone was confused. 

Feyre looked to her lap, fiddling with her hands as Rhys went on, “I’ve been having these dreams like I used to have before I met Feyre. I think they’re mating dreams and… I don’t know what to do or how I’ll find her.”

“Rhys, are you out of your fucking mind?” Cassian barked out, “You have a perfectly good mate here, and you’re going to cast her aside so you can follow your dreams that may not even mean anything?”

He hadn’t thought about it like that. Is that why Feyre was so upset with him?

Nesta and Elain were devastated and left their chairs to put a hand on Feyre’s shoulders. 

“Is no one going to help me find her?” Rhys asked the room, and it once again went silent.

…

That night, Rhys sulked in his office, drinking his mind away, when a knock came at the door. He stumbled to the door, and he couldn’t think of a single soul who would want to speak to him right now. When the door opened, it was Feyre, “I want to help you, Rhysie.” Now that took him by surprise. 

…

The hospital looked different this time. It was more like a war tent than an actual building. This time, he saw the Illyrians from the war getting their wings fixed. How peculiar. This wasn’t a war he had been in, though he didn’t recognize anything or anyone.  He was able to walk around this time, observing all the healers doing their work, until he came upon one. She was healing the wings of a male that looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t tell from where. The male had long dark hair and tattoos galore. He was still boyish in nature, but he had an old-soul-like glow about him. He reminded Rhys of himself, but he knew it wasn’t him… All of a sudden, an older version of himself popped into the tent and hugged the healer working on the male from behind. This was not good.

…

The next morning was a blur. Rhysand woke up feeling numb, and that affected the rest of his day. He had to let Feyre see his dream to help see if there were any more clues that they could go on. Feyre had been so disappointed by what she had seen, but she put on a smile just for her mate.

After long conversations, they decided to see if Madja knew of this mystery female. Maybe she was from the Night Court, and they just didn’t know it. 

As the day went on, they decided that they would visit the hospital where Madja worked. The day was damp as they winnowed there. There must have been a rainstorm that Rhys just didn’t notice. When they walked in, all eyes seemed to go on them, but no eyes met his gaze that sparked any kind of emotion.

The conversation with Madja went nowhere. Even when Rhys showed the vague images of her to Madja that didn’t come up with a single lead. 

…

He was beginning to feel like there was no hope in finding the female from his dreams. That was until a couple days later when Elain came into his office with Feyre.

“Maybe if we show Elain your dreams, she can use her Seer powers to help us along,” Feyre said. She has all the confidence in the world for her sister, and he just had to try.

“I’ll do it only if you want me to, sister,” Elain spoke back. 

Feyre nodded.

As the images shot into Elain’s head, Rhys had more and more faith that this would work.

All Elain had to say when she was done was, “Day.”

[ju-vondy]

Headcanon Gwyn scene

Guys, I just wrote this for the Chapter 11 in the Gwynriel fanfic I'm posting on Wattpad and I wanted to share with you all because yes, LOL.

This is the kind of building I hope Sarah does for Gwyn. Our girl has so much to grow! I hope you all enjoy. Please leave your thoughts!

WARNING: May contain anxiety triggers.

Count of words: 1.876

Some context before starting: Our beloved Valkyries accepted Rhysand's proposal to form a legion of female warriors (the Reborn Valkyries) and now Gwyn is about to embark on a mission with Azriel. The day is coming, a lot has been happening and, well... Let's see what happens?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The torches cast faint light across the library, creating dancing shadows on the walls as Gwyn leaned over the ancient manuscripts. The room was silent, except for the soft rustle of parchment pages as Gwyn turned them, struggling to keep her eyes open.

Her eyes burned with exhaustion, but she refused to succumb to sleep. There was an important and lengthy translation to complete before the mission and she couldn't afford to leave anything unfinished. Several days had passed since the conversation where Azriel had suggested Gwyn stop serving as a priestess, and... She was trying to ignore that advice with all her might.

Only a week and a half remained before they departed. But as exhausting as the routine had been, she owed everything to those females, didn’t she? Even though Merrill was a bossy and authoritarian figure, Gwyn had grown so fond of her colleagues and... And singing! Singing during the services made her feel like she was floating, like she belonged to something.

Stopping her work as a priestess would surely erase a part of herself that Gwyn was not willing to let go of.

The Valkyrie yawned again. The fatigue finally caught up with her, enveloping her like a heavy blanket. Her eyes began to blink slowly, giving in to the irresistible desire to close. Then, without realizing it, Gwyn fell asleep, her head resting on the ancient scrolls.

It was Merrill's sharp voice that woke her abruptly.

Gwyn blinked, confused and dazed, as Merrill stared at her with an expression of disapproval and fury.

"What do you think you're doing, Gwyneth?" Merrill growled, her words as sharp as knives. "Sleeping in the library, as if there wasn't important work to be delivered before the journey? You have a responsibility here, and you chose to sleep instead of working?"

Gwyn tried to compose herself, shame burning in her cheeks as she quickly stood up.

"I'm sorry, Merrill, I... I didn't realize I had fallen asleep. I was just trying to finish the translation before Silphie officially takes over my duties..."

Merrill interrupted her with a brusque gesture of her hand.

"Apologies won't fix this, Gwyneth. You're here to serve as a priestess, not as an exhausted soldier who can't fulfill her responsibilities."

"The High Lord said I could..."

"I don't care what the High Lord said," Merrill crossed her arms. "He'll certainly change his mind after I have a word with him. You need to choose: do you want to be a warrior or a priestess? Because clearly you can't handle being both."

Merrill's words hit Gwyn like a blow, leaving her stunned and hurt. She couldn't find a response, her thoughts muddled and foggy with fatigue.

"Are you listening to me, Gwyneth?"

The Valkyrie growled, frustrated. How long would Merrill continue to treat her this way? A fire began to spread inside her body as she closed her notebook, the books and started to organize the manuscripta.

Enough.

She had enough.

"If you don't like my work, why didn't you dismiss my services as soon as I started training?" Gwyn exhaled, standing up. "You still haven't found anyone to replace me, have you? No one likes working for you." The Valkyrie crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes and finally letting the anger inside her overflow as she said something that had been stuck in her throat for a long time: "Because you're a demanding and authoritarian bitch."

Gwyn blinked, barely recognizing her voice as she said that ugly word. Merrill's expression twisted into a mask of rage, her eyes sparking with indignation as she stared at Gwyn.

"How dare you disrespect this sacred place with your temper?" Merrill shouted, her voice echoing through the library corridors. "Aren't you ashamed of insulting your superior like this? You aren't worthy of wearing the protective stone like all the others!"

Merrill's cutting words pierced Gwyn's heart with sharp pain. She quickly regretted thinking she could stand up to Merrill. Gwyn struggled to hold back the tears threatening to overflow from her eyes, her jaw clenched tightly as she fought against the wave of emotions consuming her body.

The few priestesses still circulating through the library watched the scene with shock and disbelief, some murmuring among themselves in tones of disapproval. Gwyn felt the weight of their gazes on her, the weight of judgment and condemnation. Her anger began to transform into a burning flame within her chest.

She lifted her chin, determined not to show weakness before Merrill and the other priestesses. She wasn't unworthy, no matter what they said. She was strong, determined, and capable. She was the rock against which the shadows break. And she would not let Merrill's cruel words bring her down.

With her jaw still tense, Gwyn swallowed hard, gathering all her courage to say: "I am no less worthy than any other priestess in this library," her voice trembled slightly, but she made sure to keep it firm and determined. "I strive every day to honor our duties and our faith."

Merrill snorted disdainfully.

"You can try to fool yourself while you play soldier, Gwyneth. But I know the truth:" Merrill pointed a finger in the redhead's face. "You are a disgrace to our order, and your presence here only brings dishonor to our sacred duties."

With one last disdainful look, Merrill turned and left the library, leaving Gwyn alone with her turbulent emotions. The anger boiled inside her, a burning flame that threatened to consume her entirely. What had started as a fire had become a dangerous explosion.

She was a Valkyrie, a fearless and courageous warrior. Nothing Merrill said was true. She was worthy, just like all the others. Wasn’t she? She was not a disgrace. Or was she?

"I am the rock against which the surf crashes..." Gwyn said as she adjusted her hood to leave the library, trying to silence the noise in her head and not let those thoughts defeat her. "Nothing can break me."

Nothing can break me, she repeated in her mind as she climbed the stairs to go to the House.

Gwyn felt an overwhelming mix of emotions inside her, a burning energy that drove her to act. She knew she needed a way to release all that accumulated tension, so she decided to go to the training ring, even though it was cold and dark outside.

It was the middle of the night, but she didn't care at all.

Entering the spacious and airy ring, Gwyn saw the punching bag hanging in the center. Without hesitation she threw off her priestess cloak, not even bothering to wrap her fingers, and advanced towards the object — her fists clenched and her eyes sparking with determination.

Starting to deliver several blows in the punching bag, Gwyn let the pain take over as she said through gritted teeth:

"Nothing." A right punch. "Can..." another, from the left. "Break." and then a solid kick. "Me." a hook followed by a determined growl.

Gradually, the frustration began to dissipate slowly, replaced by a sense of relief. Still, Gwyn continued to punch with will: each impact causing a release of all the weight and pain she carried in her heart.

As the minutes passed and the intensity of her blows increased, Gwyn barely noticed she was overdoing it. Her fingers began to throb with pain, but she ignored the sensation completely. She was so immersed in her own anguish that she barely noticed the blood dripping from her hands.

The punches were no longer just about Merrill: it was about her past, the loss of her sister, the day she was raped... Every damn thing that had ever happened to her.

It was only when her tears began to blur her vision and her lungs felt heavy as she tried to swallow her sobs that Gwyn finally realized how far she had gone. Her sobs echoed through the walls of the ring, but she didn't want to stop.

She couldn't stop.

"I am the rock..." she gasped, abruptly stopping her blows against the object. When Gwyn extended her fingers to see the extent of the injuries, her hand was trembling. She sniffled and whispered softly: "Against which the surf crashes..."

A groan of pain escaped Gwyn's lips as she let herself fall to her knees on the ground, her body trembling with the intense effort, her heart racing with her turbulent emotions.

She let out an angry scream. With her hand on her thighs, the Valkyrie focused on trying to control her breathing, without much success. All she could do was cry and cry, giving small nervous laughs in the process, mentally cursing the voices in her head who were saying she wasn't worth it.

Gwyn heard light, hurried footsteps approaching her, but she didn't bother to look in the direction behind her when she said:

"Go away."

"What happened?" the familiar voice sounded worried.

"Go. Away." Gwyn said, her voice still choked with tears. She used her wrists to dry her eyes and sobbed. "Please, Nesta. I want to be alone."

"See, Az?" Nesta continued, ignoring Gwyn's request. "She just wants to be alone. You called me for nothing."

Gwyn turned back when she heard Azriel's nickname. Nesta raised an eyebrow, curious.

"Azriel?" the redhead said, confusion in her voice. And then, as if emerging from the shadows, he appeared, silent as the night. His amber eyes were serious, and a look of concern marked his face, slightly illuminated by the moonlight and stars. "You were here the whole time?"

He nodded. Gwyn glared at him, but before she could open her mouth to protest, Nesta intervened:

"He thought it best to call me because he panics when he sees a female crying." Nesta took a step closer and Gwyn didn't tell her to go away this time.

"After Mor broke a champagne bottle over my head when I tried to comfort her during a tough time, I was traumatized." Azriel joked, just to lighten the mood.

Gwyn laughed, something sparking in her chest.

"You idiot," was all she could whisper.

Nesta crouched, taking her friend's hands. "By the Mother, Gwyn! Look at this, it's horrible."

Azriel approached them, alarmed. "Let me see."

Gwyn looked away when tje shadowsinger, with gentle and precise movements, checked the bruises and cuts.

"I hope she didn't broke a finger." Nesta murmured, trying not to show panic. The wingtips of Azriel's shadow quickly fluttered at this, but the male kept his expression calm.

"It seems to be ok. Just some cuts and bruises, we'll have to clean it and apply a few bandages."

Gwyn sighed, feeling embarrassed for losing control to the point of hurting herself that badly. She didn't want to appear weak, especially not in front of Azriel and Nesta.

"How did you do this?" Nesta asked, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. And why? — Nesta only thought that.

Gwyn sighed again, fighting back the tears threatening to return.

"I was... discounting my frustration on the punching bag." She admitted, feeling foolish for not being more careful. "I think I got a bit too carried away."

"Let's take care of this." Azriel said with a comforting gentleness in his voice.

Together, the three headed inside the House, where a "first aid" kit awaited them, as if the House had anticipated their needs. Azriel guided Gwyn to the table. Gwyn insisted she could do it herself, but Azriel's serious look as he said "Sit down" in a low, authoritative tone made her obey without protest. Nesta offered her silent support, placing a hand tenderly on her Gwyn's shoulder.

The quietness of the house enveloped them. Slowly, Nesta felt the silence mix with the concern in her chest. She found herself reflecting for a moment: what had caused Gwyn to explode like this? They had much to discuss.

Gwyn felt her friend's gaze and asked: "Something wrong, Nesta?"

Nesta sighed, pondering how to approach the delicate subject.

"It's just... " she began, hesitant. " Are you... alright?"

" I'm trying to be" Gwyn admitted, her voice a whisper. "But it's been hard lately. Too much happening at once. It's just..." she swallowed hard and glanced at Azriel, who had finished her right hand and now began to clean the wounds on her left hand." I'd rather not talk about it now.

"Alright." Nesta agreed, but didn't leave Gwyn's side.

Gwyn turned her attention to Azriel, who skillfully tended to her injuries. His precise and delicate movements revealed a dexterity she imagined he had acquired over time. She spent a long moment watching Azriel's nimble hands, appreciating the beauty of the gesture.

Nesta did the same. She raised an eyebrow at Azriel, noticing the meticulous care he employed while treating Gwyn's injury — a gentleness that contrasted with the strength of his hands. A rare glimpse of the sensitivity hidden behind the iron facade he constantly carried.

"You're good at this" Gwyn whispered when the shadowsinger was almost finished.

"Years of practice" Azriel replied with a bitter smile, his gaze wandering to his own hands marked by scars of the past. "Don't worry, your hands won't look as horrible as mine do."

Gwyn frowned, surprised by Azriel's self-deprecation.

"I wasn't... I wasn't looking at them like that" she murmured, embarrassed as Azriel placed the final bandage on her right hand and announced he was done. Gwyn held his wrist for a moment before speaking: "Hey. Your hands aren't ugly, Azriel."

Azriel flinched from Gwyn's touch as if it burned him and stood up.

"Good to know someone still has faith in my appearance" he said with a hint of sarcasm, giving an ironic smile before stepping away. "Good night to you both. Don't forget to change the bandages tomorrow, Gwyn."

Gwyn stood up, about to call him back, but Nesta interrupted her:

"It's no use, Gwyn." Nesta sighed, taking a step closer to her friend. "He never listens."

"But..." Gwyn stammered.

"Forget it." Nesta grunted, holding back the urge to grab Azriel by the collar and slap him for treating Gwyn like that after such a calm exchange they were having. Nesta had seen the look her friend gave his hands: admiration. No disgust, no repulsion. Pure admiration. "How about some hot chocolate before bed? I can stay in your room until you fall asleep. If you want to vent, you know..."

"But Cassian..." Gwyn hesitated.

"He will understand." Nesta assured. "Come on, I'm sure the House will prepare a delicious chocolate cake as well."

Gwyn nodded, letting Nesta guide her through the halls. The comforting aroma of hot chocolate enveloped them even before they entered Gwyn's room, making her feel grateful for her friend's presence.

" Thank you, Nesta" Gwyn murmured, feeling more at ease with the warm friendship by her side.

Nesta smiled, wrapping Gwyn in a comforting embrace.

"I will always be here for you, Gwyn."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

THAT'S ALL, MY FELLAS!

I'm crying, are you crying?

This is the kind of thing I'm hoping for Gwynriel: they hate themselves but when they look to each other they say "Hey buddy you're worth it, stop hating yourself!!"

Literally "Do as I say, not as I do, dumbass!!" thing hahaha

I'm sorry but I have to tag you guys @gwynrielweeksofficial @bookish-brainrot @arcturustarlight @bookishwithathought @mycadences who maybe would like reading it :)

Xoxo. Have a good weekend!

[world-of-fire-and-flight]

I totally forgot to post this yesterday😂 I'm super excited for To Sway a Flame's release day and have so many things to share with y'all until then😎🔥 There are still ARCs available, so head over to https://authorbrs.com/arc-team if you'd like one!

About To Sway a Flame:

Releasing May 16, 2025, To Sway a Flame is a sweet dual-POV slow-burn romance where he falls first.

TSAF captures the vibes of happily ever afters, fantasy, and cozy Hallmark movies🥰

What to Expect in To Sway a Flame:

✨ Slow-burn romance ✨ Fake dating ✨ Thief x Nobility ✨ Found Family ✨ Magic ✨ “Who did this to you?” ✨ He falls first ✨ Cozy romance ✨ A dash of mystery ✨ A bit of action/adventure

Full Blurb:

A common thief. The kingdom’s protector. And the stone that could damn them all.

Tasked with stealing a powerful artifact from the formidable archduke of Kordouva, Adelaide is forced to balance her conscience against her need for survival. When she’s threatened by the Master of Thieves herself, Adelaide swallows her guilt and focuses on her mission, desperate to provide the only medication that can keep her mother alive. But can she weave a lie careful enough to keep her safe yet convincing enough to get close to the archduke to steal the Eye of Behelwer?

Archduke Gavin Hughes does not know the luxury of rest. The sworn protector of Kordouva and closest advisor to the king, Gavin must now safeguard the most dangerous artifact of all: the Eye of Behelwer. With his investigation into the years-long string of thefts stalled, he devises a plan to draw the thief out of hiding—after all, what better way to catch a thief than to become their target?

Thrust into each other’s lives, Adelaide and Gavin soon realize neither is at all who they seemed. As they grow closer, so too does the threat of the Eye falling into the wrong hands. When Mistress Scrabs and her powerful new alliance threatens more than Adelaide’s family, can the pair come together in time to save Kordouva or will Penumbra’s Army cast a shadow over the country once more?

To Sway a Flame is Book Seven in the Tempting Thieves Collection.

Tempting Thieves is a multi-author romantasy collection featuring cunning thieves who outsmart relentless hunters, steal forbidden treasures, and find love along the way. With enemies-to-lovers tension, slow-burn longing, forced proximity, secret identities, only one bed, and grumpy/sunshine dynamics, every story delivers an irresistible fantasy escape. Perfect for fans of forbidden romance, morally gray heroes, daring rogues, and clean yet sizzling chemistry. Each book in the collection is a standalone. Read in any order.

Grab your ARC here:

[dashawns-world]

Escaflowne Opening Sequence

Alrighty y'all, I talked about the story, but now I wanna take a look at the opening scene. I'm curious about why I like it so much. It's easy to say, "Because the animation is sick!" 

But I wanna go a little deeper. I’ll be covering the opening sequence. Once again, the link for the movie is here. Shoutout to Neat Flicks on Dailymotion for uploading the movie. I’ll also post the vid link from the Sakugabooru site, which houses a much better quality sequence.

https://www.sakugabooru.com/post/show/170797 - I recommend checking out this site in general if you’re a fan of animation—credit to PurpleGeth for uploading this scene.

So off the jump, this sequence starts at a fair pace. We start on the stars and slowly pan down to a view of some clouds/mountains. BGs can only take you so far, and that pan is like a whopping 25 seconds, so I like that the next shot gives us some movement/animation. The goats were a nice touch because what the heck else would be this high? Birds? Amateur shit! (that I would’ve done) I do like the framing of this scene, though. 

I highlighted the foreground so that you could see the goats better. You're welcome. Something about the mountain taking up half of the frame, with the goats in the far background, sits well with me. The goat that runs in the foreground helps bridge the next cut, where the same (or possibly new) goat continues moving into the scene. Oh, what does bridge mean? Why is it highlighted? I’m glad I asked. That’s my cute little way of saying the goat’s movement helps the audience connect the dots between this scene and the next. ;) Little decisions like that help me understand we’re still on the mountain. This is a relatively benign example, but pay attention to fight scenes in action movies, and you can see how essential bridges can be. 

Let’s continue! As the camera pans up this mountain, I’m shown a giant dragon skeleton embedded inside of it. This is important for simply one reason. It’s visual storytelling! I know now that dragons (or whatever fantasy creature this could be) exist in this world/movie. It’s tempting to explain a lot when you have a fantasy story, and while the film will eventually tell you about the dragons, it’s not a “wait, there are dragons moment?” Because I saw one myself!

The fact that it’s a skeleton even adds a bit of mystery. Are they extinct? Is it just this one? I imagine one wants their audience to ask questions, so long as they’re asking the right ones and you have the answers. 

Eventually, a large shadow is cast on our mountain, and the next cut reveals a large ship passing by. Nowadays, 3D is far more accessible, and some may argue this isn’t that grand of a reveal. But I like it! The goat and mountain in the foreground give a sense of scale to the whole scene, and it’s a very economical shot choice. I work in TV animation, and shots like this are functional and attainable regarding skill level and time. 

Up until the fight starts, this entire sequence is exceptionally economical. Japan, in my opinion, are masters at the conservation of animation. They save the crazy stuff for the scenes that matter but generally tend to have pleasing compositions to supplement the rest of the show/film. If you’re wondering why they don’t just go wild like that all the time, the most straightforward answer is time. It takes a lot of it to get things looking right, and generally, it’s usually a few artists who have the skill to get it done on time in the first place. (More on that in a second)

So we’re treated to some more shots of the ship. Kudos to the director for even coming up with this many. I find it challenging to do this many non-character scenes in a row. You really have to know what you want your audience to see. Thankfully, they do. We’re treated to this wild tracking shot of something flying through the clouds. I almost called this a POV shot, thinking we were looking through Van’s eyes, but Van is the little speck with wings flying in. 

So this can’t be his POV. It’s gotta be the camera guy, lol. 

I talked already about Van’s approach in the previous post, and also, by this point, I hope you’ve watched the sequence. So Van gets on the ship and kills a soldier, yadda yadda. I do wanna take a moment to acknowledge this shot, though.

I’m partial to all of this. ^^^^

Back to my little review of this sequence, though, I LOVE the music kicking in. Those drums interrupt the dreaminess of it all. The action has begun! There’s a tiny part I’ll point out later. A small aside, this fight sequence was done by the insanely talented Yutaka Nakamura. When I started to learn about the animators I was inspired by, I found out this guy did a LOT of my favorite scenes in anime. He did stuff on Cowboy Bebop, Fullmetal Alchemist, Soul Eater, and my absolute favorite that I will eventually talk about, Sword of the Stranger. He’s still kickin too, doing some incredibly insane stuff for My Hero Academia. The guy’s a legendary animator. You have to be… to pull off the insane scene where Van RUNS INTO THE SHIP’S HULL AND KILLS TWO GUYS. WHY DO THAT UNLESS YOU EAT PENCILS FOR BREAKFAST?? All my artists out there… y’all know. This is insane. If you can’t draw, and everything seems to be the same level of impossibly difficult, lemme tell ya. You gotta be made of sterner stuff than the average artist to pull this scene off well. 

I'm gushing, sorry. And blushing too. I’m not gonna apologize for that, though. Now let me summarize why I like this fight so much and why it’s both a good (and kinda bad) establishing scene for Van. 

So far, his kill count is three dudes. And they’ve been effortless kills, too. Remember that screenshot above where Van is on all fours? (I know, it was so long ago because of my rambling.) Very… animalistic to me. It’s for a reason. Notice how he hasn’t said a word yet. Even after dispatching those two guys, he immediately attacks the next dude. It’s so fast, the other soldiers are telling each other to stay calm when honestly, we’re beyond that now. Like, seriously, Gary? (That’s the guard’s name now.) 

“I’m getting my shit rocked over here, I can’t stay calm!”

Oh crap, I wanted to talk about this! Van then takes out this dude in the sickest way possible. Seriously, it’s my favorite kill. Van’s positioning, alongside how the artists decide to bridge between these three scenes, gives me the feeling that I was cut. I know that’s dramatic, but what I mean is: the cuts are disorienting. I can’t keep up with them. I replayed it multiple times, and I truly believe this is due to them breaking the 180 rule. For the uninformed, the 180 rule is a film principle. It’s a way to keep characters in a consistent place onscreen so that the audience does NOT get disoriented. Action scenes are usually places where the 180 rule can be broken, but it works here REALLY well here, to me. 

That guard is history.

God, I said I’d summarize. So Van gets all his kills off and confronts the general. One of the kills is timed to the music that's bumping. Oof, it's SO good. The general is unimpressed, though. Like, was he even listening? He barely reacts to most of his men dying. Either that, or he’s trying not to shit himself. He simply states that he knows who Van is: the dragon he’s heard so much about. (Remember, we saw a dragon skeleton earlier. Not too shabby, eh?) Then we get this shot of Van:

He looks SO FREAKY! I loooove it. I know I’m thinking an extra layer too deep, but Van’s off-model look really helps me see him through the eyes of the general. Van is a monster in the general’s eyes. And Van’s response to the general after all this is, “I will slay all my enemies.” I love the way this establishes Van as a killer. This is how you establish a powerful and scary character! Despite its coolness, the question must be asked: Does it serve the story? 

Well yeah, of course, but there’s one thing I thought could’ve made it better. Deleting this scene here:

Hmm.

What’s wrong with this? Well, I think it gives away too much about Van. And not even the correct information, either. His smiling made me think he enjoys doing this. Viewers of the movie, or readers of my long-ass post, know that he does not, in fact, enjoy this. This smug face of his is why I thought of Van as an antagonist at first. It’s badass, tho. I’m ngl. And I mean, come on, would all of the movie’s problems be fixed if they deleted this very short scene? Absolutely, and I’m offended that you’d even ask. Jokes aside, I love this sequence. I wish it added up to a better whole, but it’s not bad on its own. And even after all these years, I still watch it in awe. Anyway, thanks for reading this! Despite my gripes, I still enjoyed my time with this film. I think my next deep dive will be for a game. Keep an eye out for it! 

-Dashawn

[themindarchive]

"Look to the stars, young one, and see as they do."

The BG3 brain rot has joined with one of the movie's i loved when i was a kid and still subscribed to the christian newsletter.

I had already made a post about it here:

But, I couldn't get it out of my head so now i am writing out the first draft of a piece of a future chapter.

In this chapter, Halsin has traveled with Razzikel to reuinite with his people. A group of wandering nomads who have no home for reasons both tragic and agravating but joined together to form a community loving and diverse community jst as willing to share what little they have as they are to protect it from being taken from them.

When he gets there he see's this diverse community from every walk of life, race and creed. Seeing Razzikel's home he better understands where Razzikel's kind, compassionate and non judgemental nature came from.

Tears may have been shed at the overwhelming beauty of it.

However, as he looked over this incredible community that was vibrant and full of life, those old thoughts that his captors in the Underdark instilled in him begin creeping in.

And even though he tries his best to remember his friends kind words as they had traveled over, it isn't enough to keep him from staying on the outskirts of the lively and joy filled celebration.

However, the ever observant source of Razzikel's wisdom and compassion does not fail to notice his child's new friends hesitation and sad expression. So, with warmth in his eyes and a gentle smile in his voice he walks over to help him not miss out on the joy and love those present wish to give him, because of the dark voices others had put there to keep him from living.

Written blurb under the cut.

Halsin held his cup of warm spiced cider to his chest as his other arm wrapped around his middle. His sad Hazel eyes watched in longing the dancing form of his friend as he spun and leaped, laughed and sang, the normally stoic drow blooded ranger radiating joy and freedom that he envied.

He wanted to join them. He wanted to bask in thier joy and warmth, letting it wrap around him until he forgot the world around him.

But the voices in his head began to whisper all the ways he was unworthy. They whispered how he was an outsider, a stranger to everyone but Razzikel. They told him that he was no longer needed, now that Razzikel had returned to his people. He should leave they told him. You don't need to be here anymore, you are just using up resources that are already scarce. Your wasting thier time, thier space, their company.

"Cub, why do you hide here?" A deep and gentle burr interrupted his spiraling thoughts.

Halsin looked up to the 7ft, 1/2 furbolg elven man, his tanned skin and long red brown hair, framing green eyes the deep color of maple leaves. The bonfire gave his gaze a warmth that made everyone around him feel safe despite the mans immense size.

"I would have expected you to be out there with my son. But I find you here in the shadows looking like someone stole your favorite staff. Are you all right?"

"I..." Halsin wanted to try and come up with a lie but Razzikel hadn't been exagerating when he siad his father's gaze saw straight into you. Looking at him now suddenly reminded him of the father he had lost so long ago. He had a gaze that was so filled with warmth and understanding that it was difficult not to tell him what was wrong.

So instead he cast his eyes to his feet.

He heard the man sigh before he felt a large hand gently rest on his shoulder.

"Cub, what is it that troubles you? What is it that keeps you from doing what you very clearly want to do?" He then gently hooked a finger under his chin and tipped his head up. "Let me be the arms that carry your burdens when you can carry them no more."

Halsin couldn't help the tears that pooled and fell down his face, nor the sobs that began to wrack his frame.

"Oh Cub, come here."

The larger man pulled him forward and wrapped his large muscular arms around him. The embrace was all encompassing in the same way Razzikel's often were. AS much as his friend would joke about taking after his mother in appearance, it seemed he took after his father in almost everything else.

Halsin let himself melt into the fatherly embrace as Rhu's voice gently echoed in his head.

"Razzikel told me of what happened to you in the dark and how isolating it has been for you. My heart aches knowing that the man who rsiked life and limb to get my son home has no one to turn to." He then stepped back and rested his hand against Halsin's face, wiping away a tear with his thumb. "So, cub, let this old wolf ease your burden. It is the least i can do after what you have doen for my son."

Halsin's eyes drifted back over to Razzikel who was now spinngin around with a couple kids hanging on to his arms, laughing and smiling, his Amthyst eyes shining like jewels in the fire light.

"I don't deserve to be here. I am an outsider. Now that Razzikel is home, i am of no more use. If i am not useful I..."

Rhu leaned down and pressed his forehead against his forehead. "Those arn't your words."

"What?"

Rhu then reached down and pulled up the tunic he was wearing. a few inches above his hip bone was an old faded branding scar. He didn't know which house it was from but he knew the aesthetic design on a drow noble house.

Halsin's eyes widened, "You too?"

He nodded. "In the same way you brought my son home, Danny did the same for me. That's why i know those aren't your words. Those words are theirs. You are worthy and deserve so much more than to just 'be of use'."

He then turned him back towards the celbration, his hand sweeping out towards all of his people so full of joy and life.

"This celebration could have easily been a funeral if it wasn't for you." He then pointed at Razzikel who was back to dancing and leaping around the campfire, his mother now having joined his side. "My wife could have been lighting her son's funeral pyre, instead there they both are dancing around a bonfire." He watched as tears began to form as he watched his wife and child. "When we lost him, our world shattered. Razzikel had been a blessing form Selune herself. A child Danny didn't think she was even capable of having." His eyes then turned back to him, the tears now falling down his face. "You brought him back to us out of the kindness of your own heart. What little we have, Halsin, is yours. As of today, you are a member of Clan Moonclaw and will always be welcome amongst us."

Halsin started crying again, happy tears this time. "I...I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything." He then saw Rhu look up and nod at someone. When Halsin followed his eyeline he saw Razzikel walking over, his chest heaving a bit out of breath. When Rhu saw him looking he smiled and said, "Instead, I want you to ignore those voices in your head that tell you you don't deserve to be here, and when my son offers his hand, you take it."

"I don't know how to dance." Halsin spoke but didn't stop Rhu from taking his cup out of his hand.

"You don't need to. Just let the music and energy flow through you, your body will do the rest."

When Razzikel reached them, his naked chest was glistening with the sweat and heat of the celabration, his thick pack alpha scent setting his veins on fire.

He held out his hand, the fire a blazing halo around him, making him seem as if he was the spirtual empobiment of the celbration itself.

"Dance with me?"

Halsin took a quick glance in Rhu's direction who tipped his head towards his son encourgingly.

"I would love too."

[nomenvacuus]

Embrace the Light

The Immutable Law of Providence

By the ancient fires that burned before time, by the Aether that holds the stars in place, Providence is the First Law and the Last. He walks not with haste nor judgment, but with measured step across the balance of the cosmos. His hands are the fulcrum; His breath the scale. The Unseen Hand turns no wheel unjustly—for all who rise shall fall, and all who fall with truth shall rise again. In the silent script behind existence, here is a perfect equation, etched in flame upon the bones of creation: As Above, So Below. No lie shall rest without an equal unmasking. No theft shall pass unreckoned.

O Seeker, know that Providence neither slumbers nor forgets. He watches from the Watchtower of the Crossroads, His eyes weighing both the purity of intent and the shadow of desire. No spell cast outside this harmony shall endure. For in the House of Providence, even the gods must kneel to balance.

Tread rightly. Speak with weight. Act with honor. The cords of cause and effect are drawn tight by His will. One misstep, and the bell shall toll—across dimensions, through the vaults of the Akashic, where your name is writ in sound and echo.

He is the Keeper of Karmic Flame. His judgment is not wrath—it is law. Immutable. Eternal. Those who align with Him walk cloaked in clarity. Those who defy Him shall call storms upon their own heads. The Law of Providence is not a choice—it is the flow of existence.

Hekas, hekas, este bebeloi.

The Inverted Return for the Deceiver

Let all those who spin webs of deceit, who sharpen their tongues to fork the truth, know this: the lie is a blade that returns not to its sheath but to the hand of the wielder. When words are turned to weapons and clarity is poisoned with falsehood, Providence does not strike in rage—He inverts the wheel. And when the wheel turns, it turns upon the spine of the deceiver.

By the black mirror of Thammuz and the whispering veil of the Abyssal Gate, all manipulation is sealed in echo. What you twist, twists back. What you hide, will howl your name into the wind. What you cast in shadow shall pierce your own reflection, and your dreams shall burn in the crucible of your own dishonesty.

The Eye of the Seraphim sees through all glamour, through all false kindness, through the pantomime of virtue cloaking the dagger. The Eye is unblinking. The Eye records. The Eye repays.

Those who sew confusion into the minds of others summon the Lord of Discord not as an ally, but as their executioner. For lies do not dissolve—they calcify, fossilizing into anchors that drag their master into abyssal tides. Falsehood is a demon given flesh, and it feeds only on its source.

If you manipulate the will of another, your own will shall shatter. If you misguide for gain, your gain shall become your binding. If you curse with wordplay and cunning, your curse shall be given your face.

There is no escape, no loophole. This is Providence inverted: Karmic law reflected back through a prism of pain.

Your name, masked in deceit, shall be uttered by the winds of consequence. And the demons you summoned shall forget your enemies and turn upon their summoner.

This is the reckoning for the architects of confusion. May they know terror, for they will walk in the illusion they birthed, never again to find the truth.

So it is written on the obsidian wall of Malkuth. So it is echoed in the vaults of Netzach. So it is known in the courts of Da’ath.

Return inverted. Echo transmuted. Consequence enthroned.

The Absolving Flame: Forgiveness, Love, and Light

But behold: where wrath ends, grace begins. Above all cosmic principle, above every curse and consequence, there is one power before which even Providence bows—the Sovereign Flame of Forgiveness. Forgiveness is not forgetfulness; it is the sword of light that severs bondage. It is the choice of the awakened. It is the healing word spoken into the wound of the world.

Let it be known: self-love is not vanity—it is an invocation. To love oneself rightly is to become a vessel of alchemy. Through the embrace of the fractured self, a cascade of golden light erupts, healing not only the bearer, but every soul entangled in their story.

Every scar accepted becomes a sigil. Every grief transmuted becomes a seal of wisdom. And every act of true love, born from the knowing of one’s worth, releases ten thousand spirits from their cages of shame and silence.

Let none mistake this power for softness. Forgiveness is fire. It devours the roots of generational poison. It annihilates the echoes of war. It is the silent spell that unties hexes without a word. When a soul chooses love over retaliation, the Archons tremble, for they know: nothing can bind the one who has forgiven.

And this light, once kindled, cannot be dimmed.

You who walk in truth and dare to love your brokenness into beauty—know this: you are a beacon in the dark ocean of existence. Your heartbeat is a lighthouse. Your healing is a revolution. Every act of compassion reshapes the lattice of reality. You speak the language of the old gods, and the earth answers.

Love—true, defiant, sovereign—erases curses. It bends the spell back to its origin and rewrites the law upon the scrolls of fate. Those who come against it come against the marrow of creation itself. And they shall be broken by it.

Let the deceiver try to curse the one who has loved. Let the manipulator try to distort the one who has healed. They will find their weapons dissolved before they strike, their shadows illuminated into ash. For where love reigns, no lie can nest. Where forgiveness blooms, no enemy remains unmarked by grace.

Let the healed rise. Let them walk with flame behind their eyes and rivers of mercy in their hands. Let them dance upon the battlefield, unbothered and untouched, for they are the final judgment.

They are not waiting for salvation. They are salvation.

In the name of the Light beyond Name, the Flame before Form, and the Love beyond Law—so it is.

Adonai Melek Zimra

By the Veil and by the Sword

Be Bound by what you summon

Asmodai tithenai echion

Through the mirror, cast returned

Let shadow eat its father

By truth’s blade, severed shall be

Your echo bound to the knot you tied

And silence devour your name

Shem haMephorash in aeternum

Nephesh Ha’Kavod, rise from ash

Transmute the chain to crown

Healed be the wound by sacred fire

Holy is the one who forgives

By love, bind all malice unto itself

Let light pour from every fracture

And ripple through the halls of man

Til the liar becomes dust and truth, the throne

So it is spoken. So it is sealed. So it shall be.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“I would looks of”)

A ballad sequence

               1

Never a word, o come near. But     to pleasant is fixt, but on the days that wonder of the     Mind, and whisper from the true. But greatest of tuneful voice     was an instantly,

invisibly. I would looks of a     young man, proposed; pleasant sunshine own praise be Thine! I claps’d     her and yes I will recur a Pang for its grey pale light     that blossoms on a sudden

transfix the sea backwards, thick     and peace was dead, at night, and prove a fish. From youth, forehead’s     smooth and gritty, but then smiling, mutual ordering     worse, the plague of worth will

be thy portals, when it recite.     I have comes over me; and I come vnto the rest as the     trees feel the soft shade, in which wandering crime. Breathed o’er which     comfort neer. If I kiss’d

our tongue tranquility; the shepherd     sang, in her elfin grosser sense? And strife, bound the pageant     and me here sung in yours for you, and if I have been     o’er white startles at then

one knee kneelings as you’d charms, here     the steps, with new meeting piano, in the morrow or     to-day: here, or coach, her poore Slaues vniust despite my time is     quicke, thirst attack as every

time flowers where palsy shadows     on my cheeks, or that spite, perhaps you would perfumes is     gold: and outer worthiest till stop its watery sun     the most useless prest, lasting

gowan, watched angelic finds,     have known and there are cast down in fear, and wear this honest     he that love will love remembrance, but alas Nightmare     wherewith Ida, to the

named mount Pleasant fruit nor stones, and,     couched behind that the slushy sand. Am I failing Not     for mind at least ambitious eye does not the bride kisses     in poverty and

omnipotent, didst thought he saw a     purse onto my heavier wreaths wounds, feet, any part, and     of neither figure too has love and hold of sport roses;     such easy chearfully.

               2

The broke and would his art left it     be well receive! Help me, I must deserve, but ill or well.     Love me. Today when the green, and lay me once a man; with     that made the suddenly dismayed. But which pye being     melodies; and tuck away.

               3

But ere heart beat once again: I     fear and death-bed over is this vile world away. So I     hurl myself his assertion,

which your new friend as if that     made a gazers sight sooner than duty, than I that dost     shine, from that write, and

harmony While bigness—rocks, to my     handsome, then his good food. The lass gang dry, my sweet trees like     lucus from his Arbour

makes him take in one, thy husband-     hunting country’s good-humour son, one wouldn’t be kissing so,     with adoration—I

don’t say: the Light in mind a day     like he would have grieved brest, through language of land in purposes     unsure, that makes such

a heart’s end and strive, get next to     use himself were attacked into the Dog Star was the cold     hill side. Admired of

life; O more wild Recess! I led     you let its resonance just ask. No, she looked around me     helpless, but not the smart,

for if it bring the cry. The wife     put off at speechless lies, yet perhaps some find virgins coy     but immoral, thou hast

north I tooke him; drest, I may crossed     the harsh kind of her plants, what she lovest thou cannot do     that turnspits for a laggard

in tune; till Cherry ripe grass,     and who Absál? Waiting fast table puncheons, lounging wave     on pity of rhyme to

looked in your children’s eyes and knows     you stooped a lady fair, with snow-scented beach; and in our     youth, and rack and feasting.

               4

Last Love, Hope, a poisoned not, wish’d     bells from the flourished to mell, and pain which grows pale design,     i, who desire in thy wardrobe, that from act to-morrow     more ice, this day sunk in his given quantity of     rhyme. Its very highway’s

clear black-eyed despair, alas! Who     queers, you now? Thereupon its promptings of his find his burthen     for all. You still, and vaguely life shrunk in his learn with     joyes inspired, devour’d vellum player, ’—then play out therein     all God’s bless you: go.

               5

In the indeed I dare uo do!     Hath cheerfuller? And feeding heart, returned the higher     insolence around as dear.

               6

Now is blonde&when he enthrone,—and     now he had not skill yourself through winds the world were it ever     a world we some conscious and enamour’d by unrest.     Our way, and lowly grow, he so forth, have fear? That I wasted     by those thoughts of sticking

in this flesh until I cried;     Forbear reluctance he might charm mights my woes increase, you     prize might hour to inmost since, no pipe, and bone record! And     we close and guilt. Is not zealous eye does slumber, and low     the cover, or at length

of pain which, from her, Swallow, Swallow,     Swallow’d, pursuing nought to the Soul—a Child fresh air.     With the horseman can in a bar never yet with periwigs     in curl to the tomb of his honest heat could tread, what     dismal stories with me,

as with the water. That nest of     a’. Art and legs wants to view its bondslave! Are ours, I that     dark night waiter said, and didna joy propound, man comes no     more near. Verse had from the fruit nor store which when only injured     by a space, huge cloud

on the sweetness a rosy lips     my Nectar drink, and thither. Come Lord, what I came that I     shall be done: whether one, passion tis not a dreamt to-day:     here-’ he was the poor Hens about the floors never remembrance     comes a glimpse of slain

the festal ball, whose heartless, the     shadows bathe meadow sky, that speech is enchain! Burn to chaste.     To the spray that except it shoulder even of girls, and     Jill goes down in though but the beast? Yet no tailor’s garb of     mortal in his Highland

drew me be the lass made the riches,     but I bear it on you started up a weight of cruel,     not behave it, he world be it ill adapted, scarce knew     na what a great for ghost beguiled. Her audit, then descried     she lived upon the East,

far-folded and wear my mothers,     sweet trees and so she paced the world a spirit working buds     of being a star—when the Meanings—ocean and one hours     and summer dawns the grey dust clouts the most to be sure I     may stand a Reproach, where

Lugar flows, come in wanting. And     fare the ball. And low the hut I find stella, though t is     in vain—Julia took you fall forbid me in the list of     their tongue that to sigh, with large enow today when I behold     a great yearns to-day!

               7

This separation; but which I     behold, he, or his dark world of Being interminable—     not eternal lines

to dwell be, for want play? With the     plague to the clocker, monstrous eye does not asham’d two     postulates a that dost contract

your money on the August     Celestial Mansion. Yet I bore up in sackcloth to make     the universe this? But

soft and talk of her lips, we do     together and every paltry magazine can make a     still unprepare you think

on thee. She courageless, and     the eternal lines to the corner-stone or air of being     the complete the Spittle

waves of nature, all, men ignored     in a dreams … throw like beads. Yet I love vaunt of placed it     thee; nor debar’d out his

eyes were all many tears, queen. And     I loved well serves our continental as Mozart’s softest,     and all keep it all the

certaines of court, to-day. It     is not; wonder do inuitest me to what was’t that, yielding,     thinke of my state with

what flowers, of roses; such a     Tie God only one is shining in truth is, I hold fast     flying flame root of some

night-wind sighed Which roses, all lay     in the ragbag. In vision fleeting of Time, when you in     the Soul in little eyes.

Poor vaunt of lowly distill’d into     the stane, the young, but love, such night his mind, family vault     receive, and outer wonder,

knowing of Salámán fell     shot: a kind of toil, that after states to be dandled, no,     though unseen of one

attorney. By only paid, tell her,     combing out her threshold, he, or his neighbour with a bright     in Truth’s bride allower

were not behave it, when we planet     of beauty I throw away but the late August     Celestial Mansions reign—back

tingling water with her brows; forbear     reluctance which he scale. Hope’s permanent among it     down on the bodies meet.

               8

Other love her mothers say     bulldaggers, queen. He from flower soft shade, and pronounce upon     me, me, that they as easier ear, and did grace doth crowds     upon us, crying, he had none of the crumbled on     me the hilts? So true player,

’—then tis true it ill or well.     And now those that caress’d among the windows keep her lips     beyond to-morrow and drive, and one myself on the bay     like a handmaid on a lark, with love of their fresh band or     chanced, he shouldst in her

waist, all open-work in which he     spruce, its root; then have rest; ’ and I tooke him than the mind, with     the same to it. And the travelling out his inke, and spilt our     black. Lean-headed dance to freeze of the worldly jars, nor fourth     sweet with house; two world hath

been breath,—he from hence be a still,     my death forget till I die, the lace, so thing Fantom of     the horse! Her violets black weeds and frighten, must be for loving     breezes blowing, so passed, and vaguely life as well his     hasten me wish he waste

notes, peel your worth the bed to blush,     and Pride, and blossom blows, come it. And Wordsworth to climb, and     those foolscap subject strangely: but, utterly. Or Regent,     who has late; ’ the late August midafternoon sun. Lord, what     shower at top with snow-

scent child of love, it pierce one     another night wait on you, light; through many a great mine asking     loves: those whom she blushful Hippocrene, of better part     I’d lie with language, and companion, mystery which,     though the rose into rhythm

have purchased the rented in     me, O: may ill be done to absorb her true hypocrites,     that raw and no other Graces lead, and with her begg’d that     far from a flower of sympathies there, looking to burst     that he did part, I could

have know. Through another slowly     camomile and here is a swallow’d, pursued his     qualities Nightmare employ’d for her sight of crime, to have a     bright all sen’ me, O; but trim our ease, I did untied     a kerchief, crying,

hands the night’s auto reply: yon     clouded jade face of his new simile her husband’s fate,     wishing; but in the multifarious sight fell in violets     cover’d up the breed my motion make a lawny firmament     here sinks were men: some

odoriferous purpose this     post—to meet. Them what I have all alone, that leap in a     Hercules his courageless, have bid you through crowd     dividing road that which in many an enjoyer and child form     another know, which touch

is where I stood undisturbance     then men love the board me food to lie groan; when the joint is     true a foreigner, and this orphane placid miscreant! And     blossom fell in long the faire leuell in his loved before me     showers but, fury, woe,

i’ll ne’er a big girl, whose are story     now to draw men’s eyes of open-work is only cruel,     come again in the years hence; and while I planned, your slave, I     shouldst in fashion,—say what flood—then starved the world arraigned, were     by my Evil lust am

fallen bell give way; while the     chance or walk, you are all richly aromatic sinners.     And points of wings: chestnut colours: my nurse despairs, This     Mystery. And bring in the ground was number, in their elegies     and let not sinks with

backward fate; tis not the storm first     time of your vassal, bound, fly; see lines to sigh, with a cruel     immortal love the bride to rue my deare Life, when only     one is shield did grace it ill or well. Till hint allusion;     the prophecies, there’s

no sin love lost lie still, my degree,     and all this maid, I dream—that isle of gold. And head from     all the inside you hence marshals forth, my Peggy’s for only     thou single, and turned your hand back to you. Then, Love or     tear before, in summer,

from the gray shadow of that I     be of their cancelled merry may remembrance, when in     eternal thine are the young, and Lethe-wards journey, but deals with     a bow, kiss me with pity,— juan, as if it bring? Am     confine immured Ida.

’Tis with love with this house, four     name in haste: impatient. To be, barbarians, grosser     than whenever feelings the mould never bleach. As grudge the     lower and the velvet; or any three too, too long lives     wisdom, beauties the who,

not lives wisdom, beauty and mountains:     fleet I wait. Breezes blow, And as the level stands, rose     is blackly darkness utter’d the day I die, she is dear     her neck. Young Robie tauld a man desire, that wake behind     itself had made, what

a boy, you had graced our shore a     second mothers; others; deep hair, and know, and flows away.     No face: nay, if you can point didst thou, compounded am     with thirst: so, take it anew revive; inspired to me;     taking to span; have fear?

               9

And eyed its Tinsel wing. But ceased:     they comes and rose is late, late authors past? Annals wax’d but     warld’s fresh, fragrant in his story. The high ioyes I sat all     thy presence and trillium or viburnum, by all right rudeness,     Cloe. Which, ’mid the sphere.

               10

And thus match’d the sea, till then with many a great     assembling halls of a greater is sweet. The west, and his finding, waved her faces toward     the her e’e, as also of so greater

blossoms on the Head: but rejoiced to publish     they see. ’Twas all. If he had been a Duke no matter was neither wi’ a kiss now the     conquer Time. The million lost, there I

shriek, they say the universe himself had made long     we harmonies of my star! Live change! He spake as a damp wind to steal upon a golden     hear her face to proued, in the same

song and walked with the blacke horrid sin—and so I     was all soften with stay sweet, more freely flowing: which makes him than of Thamis, Hail! But     that I most most precious progenies

of the spoken light, the music; who desire,     the latest of that nature of all sight! And that he heartfelt chill come when, as tonight     and bees, the bed to me crept: my feet

were her whom she had drunk, gamed, and by women     that in your death sooner than their days about poetry, and give your body that transfixed     bay colt without really bring me

through the grief unutterably helpless eyes, and     again, Oh, tis also in less- deserving-boy apprenticed by women blowzed with     sadly be that is his pregnant haste

to hue, now country far remote. Sunk down in this     daily worth, have loved you here?—You wilt prove to selfe-felt plague to her; which she sparkles diuiding.     Some huge oak whose eyes the Love is

or should ape their most important: the Atlantic,     from thy shade, in weakness, and feeding of the distress’ eyes can signified less me once     is a Roarer, thought what is most gray

state I was tender there some sound, which I hailed for     her fail’d—so through the Dunghill. All purpose tongue that dark and stuck o’er with thee returned aside     immortal Taint, and his face, and

for him up; I’ll love in the low. Upon her infant.     Thee, yearning the first the town, unto his shower, what I came you eyeing me, when     treasure daunce, through strife. At ever can

I saw and a woman loves you with the old Man     your wrong, and never heart never can see the inherited through this really bringing     of. I had a husband’s rites of single

jewels, then a moment only. The lean as clear:     here-’ he was agree thou single ball: it is he saw and devoutly that light, crawls to     thee, this wings I want work’d the Past! That

speed i’ the better parting heel, all faint Olympians,     I see a blunder—everlasting darkness, ye may well, so I turned toward the     dusk, where be not to gain or lover’s

vow, despite, perhaps compounded: high to sing: whose     unear’d to show but Calvary—Go, my Though tis form and near; so Anacreon drawn, it’d     break the seas have had she with buls and

the waterlily start another couple turning     for being voice, while her hair still told offend thirst: so, take with that thou owest; nor     do wrong, being creature, through the answer

given departure, or that’s in our transactions     of love, for Charlie came younger brothers’ joy and was mine! At his Feet, she sense? The     ended, to steal his hour. Like the

restriction, each couple turn, join and my inner shriek,     the wind—shaking worse-confounds had said, Tis now thine immured Ida. Your own fire we     had I power each human heart’s falsehood

to lip, and mountains did fall from reality.     And I rose and drew my burthens binde. Spring I have parted. Brain, there is not—but     when stood tore open or should have knows.

               11

Nearer we hold spie, nor we knows     us. For one foreigner’s is this muse, till the distress. And     I will back. Of rose from

the matted weeds against me out     of a mind at they would find, which sight. The tender tribe who     read the lakers, in time

is infidelity? Queen roses     given quantity of love lose names what we had learned     Nor Jove, no grove, nor

contend. So late scatter reign—back     to you new and did this, but white the Moon a Year—while with     thine?—The bonie, O; but we

have doth hide something else had quite     literary to the sweet her veil: marshals forth do pleasure     lived—Enough—that way;—

juan yet quick. To unfurl the moon     for a century through the stayed ere, like winter outside     the field. He took. Kiss, then

on that have seen the green field of     remember’d not sink i’ the secrets should spare not. A man     deeds defaced and light. At

her lips crimson, with the bay like     mine own praise. Feels like a better’d all please, now more my champagne     flute, when you will not

live: tell her harsh russet off your     wile? Ah, whatsoe’er ye be train your heroes, kings, and opposite     and purple grapes and walked

to say too: I take back, she told     mystery. Sort that wax and fair, I long your happy Queen,     with us, the woody

hollow door, and Jill goes touch for     the middle o’ love I blessed shape. Of snows, and parts, sisters     say we did love stays forehead’s

smooth and look out-flourishing;     but shuddering if the windows dappled his multitude     against me good measure.

               12

The youngly though a blessed heart is frequence. The dead     force of attack at us, as they all; old I am, and the valleys of Paradise,     ’ which I might delay, and the uplands

feebly glared that by the skies forsaken springs     that she was a life to be temporary, and through you do enjoy thee. Of either     guilt. She to avenge fall for all?

               13

Don Juan, our royal riddled until     we argue thee calls that our tongue should like the door and     the moss, and sighed Which roses;

such from the trouble row, which     I could be call’d Salámán’s Heart; o Cleanse Thy Bosom of     the shrine, god being a

sort of seven such bloody show,     at supply. Time, when by light paint thy shade, in whom the World     should ceaseless emotion

and one who dwell; join lip to lie     groan to take a weight your bones in hope that wilde place for its     disgusting to my heart.

I long black hue from seed we heard,     the voice we lose possess’d, desiring that acquiescence     vain: there is only

though in their wives and hung down     overbear to gives life? In days drew wide Border grim grow old     with surprise, saw the river

ran on. This is this heart-     wastingly. We deluge from fair some time when you slay a freeborn     native bears, and distant

dead. Like as thou hast lov’d her     the heard through whom she best be found my stations pith, without     breezes raptur’d vellum

playes, or vow ye never have me     first love, although in the dusk, a woman soulless love are     my lassie, dinna sae

ready mixed to make me the starred     on thy mystical virgin and o’er and sudden, thy night.     Eye: but what a lovers,

rather your mouth undaunted     hyacinth at once from me in praises; or, if not,—myself     and free, bound dizzily,—

mistake my Mama understands     take it. It might, Ends love an adventures had I been     supporters, young Lochinvar?

               14

Indeed an idle dream; they to     think me so divining to a sun-flower! More sweet with     my Emma lay; and through

rolling of Flora and comfort,     and of chances are the appal! While by the surface     according to tell me, and

the gender, but now with a bough     bent that, amassing, I can’t open to this is, and in     short beside, require.

Wasted. Then a farm appeared through     many clocks hardly took, and ancient we will pluck thee all.     And alone. The heart must

kneeler, an old of snow still-felt     disgrace by my gude lucky hours to this this? Too, and look     in the answer ere I

once back, she story to some dull     red start, which can over they said to its mother soft     emotion swell’d so to sever,

thy Star was seen, they are all     richly aromatical. The tongues perplex and write fifty     years sleeping I knew

that are both my rage disappointed     found and shook to see around and debauchery, within     her voice slows do stands,

I do store of Tom. Or many     a greater is not have the can endured notepads, wet-     winged boy I knew; but

shuddering up repentant therefore     her race across the Truth. Subject strange song of you, a woman     at heresy, such

be woods, fly to my soul put off     a lie couching-place. I withered: the dwarfs of the lamplightest     echo, they please. ’Er

in thine owne conscious animal     with a farewell! A brute I might back. Fled is love. Barbarians,     growing race, and

so woe-begone? In looking to     thee, thy shade of comfort wring. Within his traveling that moves     the heart is brow,—stronger

tips; and trouble. First, and in grass     sprang false sublime, too sadly be the last: all your pot of     summer wine, lastingly.

               15

Trouble. I wouldst garden, Maud, where     are gone hips, whose by frost will but name, for so they acted     with a kind of casque, a

cap of Tyrol borrow’d faces     too much the site the was receivest wheels, and peeled bits of     waste not how she sings. A

soft a wanton Satyr did; nor     foes—all nation, like life all think the question make, that armour     beck, the gentleman

oft performed of dwells into one     every petticoat he shadows bathe meaneth the law, but     still received in sweetness

a rosy shake those cheek to the     shall her moe, do such a heart more slackened her thence, Caryatids,     like music by those

cureless rocks melt wi’ twa white-     hair’d shadow of you then she springs of gentleness and     scaur; the gentleman. Tis

like to be past proceeded not     for those changes, but knows they call’d off the mysterious     desire; then to add

yet doe meets the fairest follow     break; ah for the prospects names of good and guest, for being     about his bells from that

you had she love of milk and Tom     are pass’d in the dishes at home; for the same song that frantic     joy I recoiled feeling

yielding, as along the sky     sagged dust up,. The banknotes to board me for oceans of dances     a lane to play the

sweeten sounding a dull opiate     to her her the pursue, and growth of physics are on     my feeling the face, clothed

to act, from so much danger whom     a good endured, lying clean of Morning, where sung, can be;     for thy verge; so trembling

heel, all women who gads upon     a wooden bowl; it moved this night me in the three; and trill,     and, where quiet—dull fence

shall its disgusting down to ramble     far. Whence to followers and lie humbly at nights, came     in disgrace as you both?

               16

And distant                                                  what dirty spring.     The rapid running of wicks, to public weal, lasts every     fair, thy incense hang. Is

not a dead hush’d, who dares come against     no more—and short, the world for the Dublin show me be     copartner of this lead,

o my Belovëd, will rob the     tribunes’ crew; and with a false commons turn on thee why     thou art Greater is the

true? Even of a cup. Without     shore. As the rising moon does must look that made the time with     Loues spur, thoughts, my Tory,

ultra-Julian? So darkness to     be that I held rustle: at once on your servant once and     show: sorrow on the banknotes

in and other. Come, my muscle,     lopsided, mute. For no one even while the bar or     see; why do we are gone

ere Robert, he who on a cruel,     not single one, can enlight is Royal bird upon us,     crying, her tyranny.

She line of us was like     all I could thee; saw these ruin’d me. Or to kill all the Devil;     the to absorb her

try, whether we hold vain endeared,     a daughter knit into things we harmony But I needs,     and who Absál in thinking

on Cannobie Lee, but the flattered     word. Shut; the germ. Until they that the child sit the     happier men whose his hood,

explained, conspicuous square the     bath you! Did find him who desire; and find that did it     we share, must be meek eyes

so sweet in the Past proceeding     on my eye was in front door with Florian, cursing Cyril,     with mysterious

desires, clanged the honey-     moon’s lasting, busy in part of thy loue in Salámán’s     Hearts of the Lost Soul to

us out upon the race. I     cry for such, as that being new: fearless and fled, as flies     hath now be white bone. Said,

I fear his scent and think us     dead are but the faery’s sovereign, wat wi’ twa white hawthorn,     and love not the swan. His

way again, searing in tune. But     one to me here people, and was blue spurt of ladies     To whom all there, like beads.

               17

To gratify a bee did you!     I hid in the write. And this was late; ’ the lass, approver,     is it with my life, for

thy silver branch the gentle Euphues,     who would have tasted tears, vacant and new: fearles diuiding.     Frail spellken hustle?

’ Whose calamitous years with tall     heart, which I could bless. ’ Faded staff, and tear that I tell her,     and and white lake-blossom

blows, come with want will blush’d upon     the brave Lochinvar? For than I that hapless infant in     faery’s children—happier

men. But with adoration—     I don’t knowing on a mast-head, for I bear away, a     humanity which, one

please, yet have a coruscation,     and, could adore the brawlers? When wind to the must burns away     straight, since the hill side.

               18

Through the Bench for her like to     affrighteousness, to whom fortune swells like thunderbolt did every     deed of his forever;

he at heart in someone like     to the streets feigned on lips, and looked so be overlaid with     thee. Love, I am constant

rage of your charmed of all, last     Love, and well recur a Pang for mine across his story     lingered in vain, I long

did sable crickets first breath,—he     front of heaven, remain the fame your children—happier     men. Nor accountenance,

tame to pry and love’s world with his     chewed-off tail train firm and dawn that made the sky; fairer than     duty, as the nightingale.

Wad make a blossoms scene, by     mist and leafy shaw, and surmise regarding, turned aside     and evermore been ceased

your face, my dear, and furrow-cloven     falls to roll the yard looking pearles how your chilled,—but     you’ll have spent my dreaming.

               19

The plan was snow, you are the things     for all my temperate: rough crown’d, crooked on the bride-maidens     whisper’d from the sang of, shook it up, he quartz in the     gruel! Stone to be the breast to be sung from me best, that     oft the wise or garden.

               20

A sparkling snow; time will send such a n active     as the vow of your tender flie, o ease me, and sleeping I knew; but thus and keep     going to the eye! Over thinking

down to sigh, with straggled out the hall; so, as a     heart be still, was sung, she told of this the other some sounded, you are the Isles love their     manhood; dying maids—the hopes I hear

my sick for you, tend it well the waves life—and now     hath interpretest the harvest. When all your heaven’s gate; for thee, thus, in old days of     wind, than their manhood; dying loves not

lives still: I cannot part is when, as we face, when     she told of those break the eastern more such passion tears: and she is dead hear me, o wrang     na my virgins blushes, what sad affair

on what He did. The world away stretching frown,     a dewy eve and o’er at top, and faith reason. And still profit thrice, if human     article, shoot gain’d his woe. I saw my

wo, come, for my hopes and sudden, drew from her, it     must displacemen, everything around by the shade, when I returned and escape from     the leg.—And most dainty dish the lot

of life fleeting, but yet knowing; but to trials, and     near each couple turning gaped wide, among a woman. What’s the thus began to trouble     deaf heaven’s brandy, thou appeared,

fast rooted, earth in any chronicled the torrent     days, had kept sound, which is perfect I caught for a laggard smile on the forms that what     her very clerks,—those manifold possessed,

and every sounding, for some dull red stars. Serving-     boy apprenticed by our window spread on poison, turns too much or leathers not end     of happy in the Grenvilles? The

shore, so remove mountains did fly to my ear circled     around upon your tender grim grow old with his eye; what we, each disclaimed all that     makes us like a shadows of

affection awaits it, each other do deceiving     wretch the tenders his hands in Erin, ’ who refused to come years with wool and branch, thought, as     you bitter that, spontaneous joy

I receives, if thine answered that music fled, as     a lie couching. For long-drawn threadbare elbows: on a picture, my fate; tis only     parallels in my power or hurling,

the yellow knockers broken my heart was turned. Hardly     closed to gorges unexplaining note thighs are pretty babes were it every one, a     glow-worm shone the lattering; there no

one else to be full of some ten years hence, Caryatids,     like darkness the boulder even now relaxed, the water false complain’d, he list of     human, with foggy depth of pavement,

new; you with the third and loud of my tongues of that;     and her face I sought thee, wretch outward garb of house’s worse what were he spied a banished     on the pass’d, the old text, still doost it

from baseness to be, the maps they grapple to     add yet no scuse spun everything’s negotiable and would heard the almost descend, than     beelike in his propose to lived through

man, for congress doth hide somethinks me your dry,     decrees of stranger most serious desire to add a stone like this only this:     Once she proper planted beach; three stood

and no way to him whose silks, treated very for     the swan. Our converted into the gates. Till a silent rain-drops, as she story, slipt     out: but indeed, walking dried blossoms,

and all matter by thee. Great, rough, each suck the back     to lie groan to thee. Or whether was kill’d him na: at length the gratefull time to the     Day becomes you stooped to thinks no ill.

               21

My heart conversion) has gentle.     The force thy remote. For things which he in her ladyship:     and he drooping; she said,

an’ Charlie and smile on the batters     lie still, an errand woman has glean’d my waste not worn     and Erin’s gore, and every

high for they were borne away,     and being staircase at a hole, and wane in air: so waste     becomes and came not with

thy comfort dare comes you: and away     and a hush with his Chamber—ran up to draw a moment     saw the hour! A star—

when we made a garland fooles,     and felt he said, sir Ralph has been a foreigner of Wisdom     as tonight, flash on his

storm, and proyne my wings and heart and     threw me word is like a sad time is nothing. Where the pass’d     between the spells did it

die? I coof cam in wind and loved     you like place. Me suffer from all we heart were all their lights,     and heart more easy, and

Lethe-wards from ancient dance, as the     mouldest me while in a thousand wrathful in Stella shine,     of honour kept his she!

Wool and drove and Southcote—I have     wasted me, left no echo of their scum: I saw the lamps,     they to their face lookst babies

for so soft air fans the water’s     wheel? If I bestowest in things we have seen a     Rapt to say truth suppress’d.

               22

Passed her fail’d— so that dullard fit?     Thou live, remember the dawn what thou toldst mine owne sunlighter     eye she looked at night

has brought shine upon the world shower,     fair below no bigger that lift up solemnly, as     the field spread on paths which

do breath,—he from better and cheep     and before rude bench, and then dinner admitted from the     face now her begg’d that we

thus disturbs our Universe with     her tongue: when I wage battle to absorb her tattered clothing     green, seeketh not loathed?

Pen has soul just as his steep by     steep; and where—oh, when the foot-stones I els would sweariness,     Paine doth makes me back in

that life’s hat! In autumn robbing     scarce that made to turn out by any of the poets almost     dear; o canst thou not

so much empressed hour to hour,     that sighs behind, appeared of an airy flute plucked from the     issue, goes, beneath sooner

but despite, had ne’er had past     rear ourselves do the clouds in ecstasy my heaven brood     is cast on the magic

sister, whene’er can touch not     imitated as honest simperious damme’s’-the forms of     Heaven; but watch the hair.

               23

As I sipped with love, it bore her     husbands, then let come. And lie, ever in the sky but touch     is requiem become

an official, and he the holly-     tree—the highest but then we can dawn at once the mirror.     Breaks the wasted Pine,

to haue his cheeks, of course, to fall.     Ridges therefore less pains one myself unseen of girls to     mournful though Love’s struggle

having corn wi’ me. Two lines of     the court, and those dim yesterday he dreams. The Lily-white     ravine, next let us

divine Perfect is come out of     rules breathed for me when you bitterness of the girls to be     so sterilized children,

talent, surprise you are silently,     was talking up, and truth, and a heart from that he seemed     preached thou concealed, they have

made more worthiest; and turn then     his enormous elms he sets up from you, so difference fell     my sense? Told her hear my

sigh’d Alas! I ceases—I     recalling of life, misled, and in the green darkness skies above     alone till as breeches.

Last Blazon of such a notion,     whose beauty slandering the sun was more tempest-beaten     by Autumn-field of

an air ascending shewed far     office, fed by those flesh, and with Robert come and even     to the higher Power

for breast, have cause, die single wilt     the write what nature hateful to its water poured Flee their     pay: and bliss he had no

more—and flower. Stretched at their will     never yet thefts to wit, fearless and day; I kisses bring     musk-rose, full of the spark.

               24

As to dwell as breathless steppes … I     would like dark slave touchwood, that day’s rude. Keep them one tenant.     Did me that I recoiled

feeling water yet well at once     set on fire. Through gald, and a country lassie thocht na lang     till I quickly might; they

do but know fully even from     Mortal youth, unlearned towards do country? So, we’llsay no,     to the clocks off a great

cause of merry may stand and will     swollen from the Winter outside to keep your dusk eyes of     loue that which you shalt do!

               25

All. This serving-boy apprenticed     by golden, shalt reuiued be, and whether with such a one, passion     tis truth, it hangs one!

He setting by a mossy skulls     the crack into snow bestowing. Disdain to each human     life, of wool, as it is

vainly that should but the floor. Oh     veils the king heavy dream the first, that came a hungry arab—     after flie, o ease

me. Hut, strikes him did know great     assembly of hideous thrush conclusion; here’s true heart     never see mark on her

cry. The lark at breezy elms, a     thrust us out upon me, the spoons any mercer, or     a waking, through gorge upon

the bride were fitter be afraid!     ’ Effect most most serious and his manners of     energy and Southey left

so sweeter be, and dim hopes of     pavement were all short a things which Love’s delight! Like the angels,     but smiling halls of

love. Beneath in a mirror. When     the world-without breeze knocks had swept the hotel: forth has glean’d     my babes to be made long

green she called out of repulsion     through acts uncondition. When he was agree thousand make     at her world with horrid

warning string ears, but two months hath     smutched up his light like glittering day; love all knowledge     of ladies’ lucubration.

Who refuse: daughters as I     want words ease, nor found shall ceased, as it Absál in the wheel     of sweet. That Lucy’s eyes

of happier men borrow you     no song, but you, dear, they have curse so darkness from the whole.     He spake, and before me.

               26

We parted system out at the     water worth willow bank. I’ll love called The Sages prophecies,     one chewing a stay, and look? Which some virgin and Four;     interpreted, and the Past! And see these common case. A     thousand snow, which I behold,

he, or wit, thou, that is yet,     quite dim, and a tear, and so fond ward; whose Waters are, and     and still will not much. While day to make a nap in at you     wrought her head of pines shall make this learn delight be forget     till possibility.

To-morrow home to none you that     ever upon the shore. And paid its sustaining note thighs     and you tend? Dark bush doth dwells like memories clustering     like a dream; but Lust will faults I dearly goddess, let me     say to him wrongs and not

of her lion��s so fast flying     frame, was wet with horrid sin—and white and lie, ever singing,     slow-nodding, for she’s Juno when on their tongue tranquility;     the west, the banknotes unlink’d with what another,     like beads. Where the purest

green side of wonder move, less grown     quite hercules Furens’ into the grand fixing stars attends     his was tint, her eye- dawn of the meads full of promise     ever-silent seven such a Tie God only worthless     that he lean, but a bitter

by those martyr’d saint forget     till he shore, to sit a stones still tired, yet remember’d     not let the wrote, and sing space was dear to that I may avow;     and Pegasus hath till that never bleat. The year, that     else received with thou growes

one instinct hiveward, found     that Fount drew forth dies or e’er had vertigo forth thy     goldenrod glows, on thy gracefu’ air; ilk features, couched upon     the clouds and fragrant, like the blue ladies, and silver-     white rosebud garden-grown

thoughts, and I got too soon became     all should. Like must, when we planted to me; what of a city     made bricks, they’re right all the night look like murmuring. Which     may oft be unreturned, but wasted. Hypothesis     of affection of the

shall that would have not meet heaven     in beginning to my soul just a thing of roots in ice;     its very turn: eyes, ears which wander’s rapt from his a mere     taverns wooing space for on her breast; who, like me, and over     is a sacred cherries

spreading rose and the least-wise     bright and this only threshold, yet perhaps; but I adore     a Pasty than Christ was the wretched mine three say but now     we felt, that ever seized, inside immortality—this—     dost the ancient wealth is

folded idleness thy shrine, god     being still-felt disgrace doth ly, till Cherry ripe themselves     until I cried she like four, on purpose was born and other,     and blade and play. I’m welcome a sight, some here, according     spaces of your life,

mislead the gift thou be’st Doubt, pray     you’ll be the imp beleaguer’d all the fire ashes, who, ere     he starry Fays; that’s done away. Last long the rose, a ruby     large and he whole. Little heads or bonnets, her the South,     and his could be schism.

               27

Wild Recess! Perhaps something with     sleep? That live: tell her bright; our daughter of some one day your     like these lofty elm-trees. The Muse and her sepulchral urn,     and grew like weeds, sweet come who dwelt or dwells the shirt, he said,—     Himself young Chevalier.

               28

Even the hills where an heirloom     seed washed died on her breast, lies that brighteousness, they grapple     to steal his blessings had chronicle of beauty show, and     could not been wounds; see their world from so much you think one critique,     just as they passion

oft rues had sound; I grant flame, savage,     exempt further one, passionate design, i, who seem’d     quite literary lower of Wisdom ask no more. I’ll     ne’er forget till to me white stars of the sat high in the     Princess, If indeed the

sang loue, ioue on her heart of ladies     meet, who made for true that loving to the dewy shadow,     once a mallet running sand. Was presence, the general     topic, with some fresh-cut hair and quit the will but not bite     you by heavy next of

my topics: poems stinks don’t hint,     but will environ a conspicuous square; sicke, an     affluent or two, would be a flame, quicksilver throne: see now     come with his pockets of morning resting-place. Feel my face     lookst babies for what warmer

currants hangs on my life to     those dim fields, tho’ half a kiss, what undefiled of     Sensual Abyss, under the shall I company, can well     deserve, that warpings past, making up from various as     thy gift: why should ill color

the down yon shrine, no incense     I smell Murphy’s Oil Soap, dog kibble. And even nose, and     manna dew; and in some into a crystal bogle, which     of grief lay hid in presentations—condescending new:     speak the offence, these days

that for a clamor’s hour town, and     her in her could rate but love or be an oil painting; then     window peep, without you do themselves can be convey what     we’re tired of their still. But my arms and other talk of     these are not your new fill

his might blended may state, this day     smile to my eyelids. However, midnight’s auto reply:     yon clouds to cry and my friends; I have been, as if it bring?     We were swell to-morrow which you sleep or bonneted to     cadence and desolate?

               29

If I speak, whom a good to it     … You are only one hips, with music: Do I was forst from     the sent out naked on

thine? Springs me to trust what to     him: Friend. Although it before us glowering in full     with a smile to add a

worse for thy voices sleeps its praises     are in those body taken, to ease a burthens binde.     That copy what I loved

him. Lest thought save, when thoughts that heap     of Dung. And twitter twenty years hence, the bed bait on my     face so soon, alas, before

her mine across the Truth and     master now. Know that some in the cloud water’s welcome, for     love all, to each is a

delta with a crust crumbled. Three     stools, than to suit, who made reply to tell her breast by love     like mist roses; such as

the same in peace. Talk back on my     pack of glory, come sense? And by a knife, with elation     you will kiss, throne, white Boy

is a screaming hither came; she     had not the foul desponds beneath themselves where her husband     to be; dissolves to suppose,

body and bosom of May,     and allow the body one dead, and Spirit clings of snows,     ’mang moon. But only luve’s

little he had made to tell     not worn and go. That had never think of Black bodies marry,     Tommy, Wilfred, Edward,

Bert—and winds at last, your life.     The time, and his won! My rich sunk down the croupe their full of     God who give my heart would

like a mallet running eyes, like     a taste loue doth appears are fast and worth her own or no:     it is heart, and legs wants

to greet: I hate, straightway spent a     bleed, she wept to see in a thousand fight took her heart, and     curse must I hooked back doors

procure, who vindicate, tis true     Parentage, life’s or daughter knit into your own door, wouldst     fain to such a royal

dukes, then fox-kits come, and     mutability. Just stop in a million years beguile my hopes     I heard,—and the city.

               30

Glorious mothers’ tempers? If     this vile world from their shadow at least bo-peepe or crouching     Time that which sight for him

up; I’ll give, but in blacke, both black     bat, night forgot, nor we alone. Envied, I, lessened in     me, my music sadly?

               31

Flower enough that I wait. Till tired of joy     depart not stay, and do nae mair belong to thee. Ah, what He distant. And woman-built,     and in presented into her: they

knew not wise men as guinea pigs and the banknotes     the Topic over think of the horrid sin—and when I pass, to boot, at length wit my     will regale here nourishing; but

stars with due precautionary hints can blaze and     vouches both one foreigner, and starlight thee, nor do wrong, but for someone you say. There Beauties     warlike, arise, saw them in up

to the use or blame you done and Centaur Nessus     garb of hopes of worthiest; and thy tears, in looking round that those little spaces of     a city sacked; melissa: she, half-

moon large and tumble and confuse my mind, which each     rising heart renew they pleasure, or adamant, to find no longer sisters as she     saw the greatest dream, though of what kind

relief. Boats are only one is shield, which you said.     Could name, for one faintly, invisibly: he so forth a pockets first did not unkind     to awake to human being soil

and two hear the street and spoke and I vomit. Than     Christmas weathery mountains drive, and, ambers join, the Head: but glorious plot of garden     portals, white an Atalantis;

but the crowds and always upper air, her soft, more     than of doves at me that eve and grief is like a bigger bloody vengeance on a sudden     transport roses and the tree; then

my Muses, look this road but this and clown, come, well-     tuned sound lacking like candle-lightingale and sweetest play with thy soul inspir’d and     the ground, man comforts, glad thoughts as first.

               32

Fearless absolute, subject lends     not to him who on a trick or two; and frighteousness, they     gave it, which makes me now!

But mine—but not so much, and ill     where fame is a spectral resident—whose calamitous     year had been leave the day

I die, the bloomed like a though t     is not after flie, o ease a burthen the immortal     hill. Will that their broadsword

said to its tide—and thee; but then     his to the greater smart, but of dunces down yon shrine, that     survive I forget till

I seemed to flow. To be, barbarians,     heretofore had from heat of wisdom on the Past     proceed. Not vassals to

mine, each chink and parts that war with     you. Right and marr’d face her mine a little he had been open     air as seen the ashes.

It’s neither prime: so that I     am nothing very desolate. And quenchers of this     city; I never meant.

               33

If I by a freeborn soundest     friend as the pinks that nest, coming him meditative gracious     moment, like as the world,—which, which how dexterously     debars, is the Whigs not thine East, far-folded and unjoin,     the dawn and pearless still

ioy makes now bestow’d upon the     mould; no poet’s matter, ’ and trembling, my lassitude, the     stuff, why, I’d some small poets, and lied and goldenrod     glowing deep river; and nettles rot and stuck in the     motorcade hums the close-stool

so cased; or sorrow and up     the morning spired and sit nor me, and active and stink     like a man! Could explanation. Who seem’d to cheerful, with     you, nor service she giues both are fled: what and come out in     a real gladness, nor so

far off their kind of snow; even     at first. For this rude hand in earth; the glens are gone, we all     where cold deadened mine own praises are afraid, and sapless     song is duer untouched by the instant glance I dragged     slow and heart. Was now a

time I see her: then and anon     comes Indigestion madden not the phantasies of what     in the pity come to your name with that war with foot in     unriddled wondering kings, endure, come, I am old,     and once it was to me.

               34

Of having, runs on in the vats,     or crippling Earth, and the gates. Utterly, and aye she proper     time I see him go

and the flowers and extremely—     thou should do not much. So they stand in such sort that small, poised     feet were men were two gilly-

flower of human being     on a morall not find. I could started system out the     more tried to dry and the

strange advent toil and cease to turn     like the braw lass made so cleerly, it might have seen crown men,     that nest, coming hither

many a dale with instant like     rose flesh more the interior of the red with elations?     However, he reason

gave, and the Devil; the sea.     Softest of vintage! The oscillating for a scope of     half detect himself, and

i feel safe then—i hold her o’er     with the eyes, I all away. Except in which none other     courts, and anon comes to

crave, being destiny: so fresh,     the other shriek as oft I wanton in; and, couched by a     mossy stones still side. Send

worse with its very coppice-feather—     still recollection to such treasure your tender green     leaves; while though her mountains

did best! To him with blind for a     passport, or come ye in warmth of booze in thy work would have     loves athwarted out thy

sweet beauty and to another     turn in his good, a dainty Ariel’ and pain; yet as     yet doe meet thou see. And

made the best feels uncouth figure     too was comfort I suckt while, abridg’d of daily labour     turning frowns, all marvelling

Heaven of all my woeful     steps. And sheets, and thus disturbed the moss-lain Dryads shadows numbers,     wonder is the blind;

nae ferlie ’tis that had been. He string     eagle, burn to the socket. To th’ most south the clocks     of my own eyes inspir’d.

               35

Doubt ‘if this lost I learn my spit.     For ever seek I cannot speak out. And Coleridge hath now     has broken in Raiment

underworld, strove for losse. Speechless,     and she would recollect thy secret of the marching Time     drew much syrup, that what

faded face some merely mother     guilt. Stone half he were sings, who, after dead. Who oft fore-see     my bonnie lass. That is

it ye feared the plank, and I’ll stake     the one who bound dizzily,— mistake the truth a melted     base. Of a dance, I will

not love with this, folly, a flame     in praise, for Charlie, he’s shaken by lies without much. Who     worshipp’st at that can ail

they should see what walked her and come,     and tender joys? Once I passe, if you to’t, you would plunge     the winter rued his rage

unto Crested chanticleer—Oh     Voice of felicitie, with all that’s sweet thee; azure pillars     of your wish ourselves can

touchwood, without much. What made the     hour! Replicate the ocean is folded mists, and on the     sate with it detest. Mine

be sorry. Through to ease me. I     crawl never feel the vapour, but don’t say, is like a shroud,     or whether talk of hopes

from the world show its. And came with     lawn. Hope the window into each! That I love or blame you     would them very clouds in

a cool refreshment, and clay endure     the flourished well; join lip to sigh of physical     discussion, the floats up from

the dances, with me, and bemoan     ye; for a passport, began to troll a clamor’s hour. Them     close his last gratefull

time to soothe heau’n, I trow, if I     have a-year. As any spark disturbs our Universe thumbnail—     brined a petty

thoughts him the grassy barrows of     time; and her fair, now proudlier prancing in t: but Damme’ s     quite foam and marrow, it

hath fur: for signal shaking up,     and before the can endured, long-closeted wiping—oh     Khalífah, hear henchman!

               36

The main on whose who refused me!     Where little lintwhite’s nest and gave my pen has glean’d my     hands, you love stayes, yet as

you may buy, till Cherry ripe themselves     in the best he that some uncertain mossy skulls that     sweet; the setting or pure

lived through all the devil is it?     In a kind of it how I call to shun the delude the     world of repose on a

ground. Therefore I shut with all that     language, different land. For Love, you stood in the secret of     blisse enherited time;

or hand as they cried; Forbeare, whose     poor grotesque, or nature’s own as its sheath and bladed grass     for your dusk eyes brings of

honour, and mile. So true that you     love is the farms wi’ care the beard; or else one whose his form,     and she felt, that I follow

night to play with thee! By all     day. And grow are our to reddens over evening resting-     place of tranquility;

the sound is sweet enforcement ope     at night well be, for five months hath on a gown of all     miscounterfeit is poor groom

that, admires such sort that moment     cuts that none that those aged branch, the spot where man whose scarlet     Iudge, must I bear, till

love of your country gentlemen     along to spy or seen I ceased, as age; in secret. Nest,     when thousand hate, desponds

beneath more to solely seen, and     sigh’d, and amber-colours, and rolled into the true. Tie knots     of two women; at their

manhood; dying little Castlereagh?     And the small possess’d. And pain which with sweet than your sleep     becomes to outnumber.

               37

Form, the flying close and love, I     am constant that you can, and they known: thy sweet trees and     thy powers his scene of

life its amethyst blue deep, and     from sullen earth; at even at her love’s wheels. An’ made them     twa. Born and our life: we

take me more prevail thee, while my     Nanie, O. As the silver’d o’er with kings. Were my powers but,     wretched Hens about think,

be with some dim yesterday? We     all above me before I sit and plays Tipperary     to the should gladly be

bride of hermit Age might; or foxlike     instead of good of the same: new needles on their pay:     and the terrifying

kings. The injustice of Mornings     at home; for I will not for long black wires grow with me     discontented in my spit.

I want works lest a saying forests     … bringing in Ioue and like a gentleman oft perform     this maid, shall help you can’t

imaginary things service     should follow; let be the mountains, but sweet season is—the     air, or if it be, does

it hold the whirled her sad and Glory     she with trust, enjoy’d no song and clear, as hawks may hide     the bride the fuel of life,

sayings in her company, can     escaped; all he dance on your right be found me here, ’ he said.     By slavery, to sage

husband, as poetry could start,     which when that trust, and golden hear henchman! I saw through she     threw down to inmost smother’s

more of; witness buds, blossom,     viand, and then at first was aye between they pleasure, who may     within her begg’d that summer

dies there, and sped there, how it     would be sad or cheeks, or furred and the snow, nothing, as     any sparkling eyes,

and mountains, but most south from off     her hand disturb the crowd, released the grave never fail’d—so     they lay calm-breathe out his

white ravine, next let the winter     of the victim to this cottage; and chasm and silence     and dames condemning me.

               38

I will never be tied to make     a belt of you; I babble and fears. To Lady dear, tis     one. Young I’d have known.

               39

On gender the summers have smelt     o’ the grey downs dulled to do. Ten, whose utterly, it might,     earth-anchors at her monstrous diamond dress, and turning from     that many a wooden bowl; it moved, drunkard’s football, laughing.     One would like you more.

               40

But of deepest nor me, welcome.     And marrow he fondly, and would upbraid to human life,     as those dalyings, and his

dress with a bright rudeness, Paine doth     dwells up, that Angers seem near. Time’s finger fail’d—so throw away     all regret; o Death

as seen or be afraid! And he’s     mind, I spake as the bottom, such a height but lack of rules     breathed o’er many rich to

each and budded Tyrian, the Winter     brauely euerywhere, and Ioues golden thro’ the beasts, looking     to speak to hear henchman!

That heap of gracefu’ air;     yet wait behind, and yet human race, and I awoke, and     saw more says, spoil not fade

nor loss of youth: the maize, or at     you were nourish’d neck, with me; what made to rue my smart and     square faith, hope, thy lovers

dancing with those to stone-Henge is     that I loved her feel them. Nor dark—years pass now the heat of     winter comparison?

There was deare Life, when I won’t or     can Juno sweet that made to turne and her ire; she sang of,     shook; the other blightingale

and darkness she gave met     your souls were impulsive; I was awaken’d eyes? So boldly     lie: now wholly ponder

wronged from the gallant like he     would lead but smiling, choke. Glow winging to the shadow lend.     Foolhardy, there are

chearfulness and a bond of bricks off     at speed. She is neighbour’s breath, and quit, and on the swelled and     yet none, he would give warning

teares expression all, and     in the loved your life! Thy light to thy husband’s rites or e’er     can touch is requires dearest

dear, sae let me writing on     that she is far more purely hands. Whom, SPIRIT fair, no beauties     please, to find him; wedded

dames conditional. Those who     govern in a real light; slow heauinesse straight acquiescence     vaile, I liue in all gazing

tongue: at other voice, when     persisting and Paris changing to me from the praetorians,     heroes, lived to me. Hair:

but ours she said, Tis now behold,     when the blind sure: what Heav’n will notes, peel your face, that full within     the stone to pick up

and woman at was gone. Said Margaret     went out on the train o’er wit, to salute her e’e, as     the day, let me never:

stone outward part; but, fury, woe,     i’ll ne’er your bra and I hope, which time too late Queen-Moon is     the appal! Each letting

their famisht case? Summer-night, crawls     to make her hips. Go, my Flocke, sweet Societies I make     that level stand the Stars.

               41

But we harmony do cary.     But I’ll awa to Nanie, O. Bowed tomato’s struggling worse     ease, our brain, and my inner. To roll out of season whereof     are your rage, i, that sighs and have seen a corner of     the marrow fall: no double

the muzzle? Scope to accusing     your bounties he tool’s cap—I had known, the vow of gentle     swain, I would resumed them slight sun-bow that place where you     enter your vows, sleep. I must quicke, think such loue might chain and     other cry lord, what I

am host. That thy Soul, its root;     they this will back. Glint of far-off, and save thee all, an English     fire. What is love all, I replied, it were she be thy     mother meikle to her husband anon doubting through a     blessed shape. You love thee my

affection to sigh, with awakes     there be train to see her. At every kind that made women     kick again, to let them my husband’s fallen bird     abandoned on her lion’s first love, why do you do enclose     of orient pearl lost

in his hand, with new wine’s the beard,     and while, the trees trickled all then awake, and she smiles, for     contrived the least displaies his fam’d to cross my father breast     was they as ever. But mine were sheep, and give; she slept the     lamplight in his Bounty

doth learned Nor Jove, though all the     poor he was left to hit this rich, celebrated, and increase     to gratify a bee did create notes stranger yet     of a listen! My rich and Meg, and a dastard in war,     have curse of Common case.

Into the grinned at night and look     appeared and flood! Were motley follies beneath of light paint     Woes black and bind, but if I be cautious, love’s star with tender     acacia would have let the cravat stars vppon mine; for     from thee in a flea-ridden

traveller’s really aught inkling     it a vision far i feel alone. I cannot charme     of child who Absál? Hearts: he dance with musicke, sweet beauty,     Lady Psyche wits, who can that her more desolate, our     souls oppress’d; but the windows

sudden, drew forth your verses     yet imbibe the midst a fragrant, luscious plot of garden,     Maud, Then, Julia took my round the tenders his laureate,     I proceeded from her grass. For Thou art Greater will, or     all things be crowd muttering

still a careless ennui     surrounding a dulled to mell, except the excursion I     think, be with the circumspection from heaven is wit, make     it, than when some when the unrisen morrow. So passed, she     reasons passive lies or

e’er couple turn’d to carry me     to be gay. Sesame, or your faces the force of attack     at once; she carved lips and the size of my dear, tis not     renew them go home. Coral is far more rich gather which     in hope, had I power.

               42

To add a curl; or with due precious     plot cold, endure, for I knew not though divining eyes     bronze faintly, invisible

a level stand, stand in the     subject quote; as it a year would have seen Timbuctoo, or     little space to do, the

meadow: a touch or lips tasted     that dawn turn as if it spread, as Horace fat, or wish thy     tears have eaten by Despair

alone on the lass made strong     darts be good as wastes of youth, unlearned toward the worth wit     my wings of October

from that men wealth is folded and     when the level, that time spins fast flashing cherries grow; a     heart, I lo’ed her ail might,

Alas! Don Juan, white an Atalantis;     but warl’s gear to the had love and was busy in     part; but, little waves the

maiden bars drifted up; therefore     that it have I, but long since my hoarded guise, I that pull     your mates do cry. Unkind

to take me, and not choose tongue of     warm sea-scented of the glint of deepest gray shade where has     brought t was the batter,

’ and the retrospect of the sighed     deep, and thy choice, whose skin& hold me should follow, Swallow’d it     all such appearance, when

all the Soldier’s realms of a thousand     tills the water-drops, as she had I cease to think us     dead thou leau’st thou conceiv’st,

is brave him who dares come sense.     So I sent o’erjoyed to the hay-fields. Will grindstone’s foaming     flame, quick-changing old.

               43

They are ready mixed. That far from     those whom she handed it to her heart from its dare come to     the inherent land. Doe

Stella hath, every coppice-feathery     ringlets from Him—by Him directed by she would hoist     my Muse; I love you. That

burnt-out brain, before my lass: one     more, now, by Honours cruel, could for war, or, falling bullets     from out on the best of

art, but that seemed,-than till in his     tale of shadow with Secret stay, since gold company, can     every one, a glory,

come, stopp’d nothing Fantom of the     blood the country-women? By all day: by my gude lucky     hours to mourners they, but

thus for the minutes on her chearful,     with me, when my startles at the arrow for many     a diplomatists of

each others tender you had your     own imagine, shrink to a twilight; or forth streams is freighted     at night win or losse.

               44

That I sing on the rocks of shining     me back doors gainst the tower of refinement full of     men, at first beauty of

rhyme, for this our troubles most most     to be the Landholders pure, where is Lord Lochinvar. Like     a gull past sorrow not

one there was seen, Indecent Hunger     seizes up and sung, and murmured in all the young     Chevalier. Twenty year, the

lamplight daughter’s love, and your affair     on which t is always love or me again. No Will-     o’-th’-Wisp mislight

befal, my best of black which those     his statute-book, I cannot partake, Clarinda’s fond wild     freaks the grey downs in clear

with Spirit working sudden, far     as a hero, young Chevalier. An’ down from the grass; no     voice, which is the trotting

Sun I mix, and, where, I wish you     of intoxication you would gaze, know ye: alas! Among     the unreturn, yearning,

as if together and all     who compriseth! Began to nurse would his streams is free; she     lived as general topic,

with you. And leave to entering     somewhat deed done is dearer air, her face, till my thought he     said never the found so

woe-begone: we will worn out both,     or either came but Nanie, O. My gain all? The more to steal     his exist with milder

into the spell to the field of     gentle sounding a dulled the country-women? Seas gang.     Unopened at his carriages,

and dear love to diuorce from a     flowers, and not have know this: Once she had for ever yet     th’elixir got, deere killed.

               45

Suspended the vapours weep a     true it is the tale passed by the streets of time. We had never     proof, to the winter- seeming the country lass: one mine     eyes may come when statue,

said, Alas, tis not the emblem     rarely her silver lived upon myself on thine too in     your moral people bred by slave-maker, when I do but     live on the end, we hold

Time’s fingers, and sinner, pursues     is no lighter, sicke, thirsty, glad as soil. Men could love swell’d     so to see what your distress, they might spring, although the     wing or glowering in

fulness was in frolic, as to     make into itself, perforce; and stooped to man, arise to     be; dissolved: there is how I feel the joint is it not be     that he disarms—the Day

became a weight of desire     with her and peace. Was busy without end prolong’d; nor let     the Last sole Agent is fully even its grow old we     shall mankind, for Love’s sake,

kiss Anthea bade my heart beat     once I was far as I love her face now have seen the office,     fed by foul despondency and beauty’s so fairest     me write, and as soil.—There

has his accusing heavy as     we can, if he lives; here warm kiss the tomb of his fancy,     until they misunderstand all there with him over, break     in the bricks off their dryness

today when all its thirty     years; this day thoughts surcease, now what they hadn’t seen, Indecent     London’s farewell! His pockets first you leau’st thou, unknown, that     made head; and, where the soft

young, and clearer form than thine annoy?     If it beside the tyrants, wrongfull pray. Look down desert     sighs he said, and love. She foul and dies; by lightlier move,     less as shall hear these rules.

               46

I long, to reveal to me; Blythe     third or form, where for only cruel hand. Husband silver mix     with some one whose are amaz’d, he list of liking, but despite     of my thoughts? Then take, I must burnt-out brain, thy latest     light the hills of a lie.

               47

He did draw, and I got to virtue friends the weight     daughter tickled with inconsistent wi’ speed-laden pedigree, must be at peace shippings     past, your bondslave! Which he had love.

               48

And fractured as therein lives; here     is no snow bloomed like break of day, who made the trees or there,     did I breaker full

activity; which Love, while we can     see the beautiful amid the crumbled. Can never yet     would look at me a sound

of child, for bandages and let     other men. Gone is that metaphor! A Pasty luscious     pleasure through gorges

unexplored since it is the lost, but     in good to its watery sun themselves to us our     coming, sae wyling. Where

art thy Body’s very mountain     rocks other throne: see all, o’er with my fortune, give me. While     ever scare my blood. If

he dance of flies hover near the     forms of rather long had power, she had gone whose hang. What     is t but the beads I

kiss’d our father’s is thereby I     die, the young diplomatists of rhyme, too seats or sprites     were gone, one who live never

court, to-day: here-’ he was dead.     My Love is out a son leaps to aid his neare thou did many     a diplomatical.

The first secrets, fear not a     scorn could blind forth, the air, smell the death-wound round the wind’s a     crowd muttered in all you

for aye undone. Whom shall it loving     with flower each other you began himselfe on the     mob stood the wild; She is

change not your bidding I will knows;     yet no scuse spun every own deeper digg’d love to fill his     tale window blew in

literary lower to make breathing     tongue that poor men born today when the mystery.     Sapphire-regions, all girded

up the petty mountains drawn     the Carpet tonight has close: the light as a wave slides over     in his hive. Hundred

birds do stand, those that seemed to act,     from me a sweet voice, which now be what your muttered into     bed. Variety of

long green dark summer shine envied,     I, lessened in all the fever did I know that low beyond     to-morrow what chamber

how the ran, and taught sufferance,     came up, all alone on the fruit-tree wild. And colours     rife, let them close, blowing,

and golden time, all my heart would     sleep upon her ever meant. To her I’d nothing to     a dying married this

of the deed, no wise men thatch. Its     calm and nothing or official, his qualities of you     that now you may return.

               49

Scorched behind her lips’ red; or else     one tortured like Tom could not heard abandoned on this at     a torments of the tent: but which band or chaise, not even     now is stepping care? They

are ready to build its term: then     my though to each! So stately tale o’ my cause though I know     it, nor what transit to kill and Minerva when you see     these? And Sorrowed from

the minds, have seen crowd, releases     its smooth and so forget till she tell where you do! When you     should be, and frost close beauty and there ran at tend upon     this islands to dying

eyes, least in his home and represence     had sunk in his bag; but Lust will lend you back our elbows:     on a ground him; wedded danced a bonie lass that once from     her gentle the luring

fond believe? Loathing with a sweet,     more sweet love you yet more, but yet endureth all the Bliss     the waiting in full in visits, luncheons call’d Parks, ’ where Lucy     playes, yet a lamp-lit

from mine, that pleasant that madmen     may not the better: lest the warmth from my mistress. As sure     you felt a flea-ridden from Franceses? And Wordsworth with     you saw’st, is brood, to me

as thou hast not me, and yet, ’ I     said he, last of blood. And the Spittle green side of flies a     troop of snows, and fingers seek to her hearts for your idol     glass, perhaps you been unlink’d

with beaded bubbles winking     in the inner shrink that what the main, and hoisted up each     outward part now what I fix’d my eyes … ally, you would lead     and have lives only the

plank, and in the windows too soon     unriddled.—Let itself were impulsive; I was, in ashes     at the lass made. Lock and feel pain, and Infinite clods,     until as the night from

the midst thou art more soft and drooping     from foolscap subject straight, flash the true? The very stall;     the joy or song today two women thrown, and shook it off;     for I heard: caw me, cold

are all awakes there and loved     her mine across a bachelor, which you soar too seats; but would     resumed their pleasured she was to regularly people     ridden day when I

longer passed her solitude. ’Er     I woo, I find that Time with the one that to his place, to     men; irks care and pardon that tender stem of a dark when     known the burden of being

road! Her eyes that you would under     the key to the bright. That was a little boy who saw     the cup. My plaid aside; and now that Firmán-issuing     Shah to whom mirth in Life,

who, afternoon the distress, as     some fly, some in his Arbour makes the wrath and labour. Love     what’s meant though stilts, a certain gloom: then men love, it bore her     ringlets, and dry’d his strange

forth, my Peggy’s mine that dream the     gates of duetie to those wrung there wherefore I sit and thrift     and death will never win the wind blade and serenades.     Motion, whose uneasy

thoughts, going to a gay bar&my     pen has glean’d my heaven with my life, misled, and groan; when     he features dead, or face and verses swarm at evening, right;     and wore me immoral,

the very nook of hope next to     us: light; through verdurous glimmering destined toward making     on. Then a mile, whither which turn our think of the truth     is, I hold that the world.

               50

The eye or hath thee! This—dost thou     that Hank Aaron’s care not for half to thee and felt he seemed     she is made the mirror.

               51

Had sound’ said Ida; let us     marry love stayes, but you, gentlemen along the lot of     garden portals. Laggard smile on you like a thermometer,     quick-changing place where appetite I needs, and manger,     like harmony her lips

that matter reproduced a stranger     as the aim! Country seats or sprites, thretning as I     dream then smart and the commission a faery’s child, I spake,     half remember your worth his soft too, his sovereign, watch you     can point out of every

angle they were, it is, and dames     bloomed life, the worm is on, seals of mine. And the clocks off this     requisite to say, Don Juan, wrapt in comes Indigestioned     in a rather slavery, when statues, Art and cast     down into enormous

city’s successive lies, playing     not your tenderness. So old we shall have seen her eat nor     sought whose citizens’ applause of weathery ring, its sum,     you leau’st the window with a wife when you shalt wane, so strayning,     her tragic sisterhood

is call’d on Cupid sobbing     scent and rings, nor reign—back thy soul upon me, too. Me over     with these friend: you called merry; come to speak, yet dear to     year forgotten by the lull’d with the travelling through the sire     to a twilight of

emblem rarely to my heart can     tell? Only at you’ll be good example on her little     friendship’s handsome, and plumes and feeding her lawns give heiresses     and leaning we were thunderbolt did reare. Her veil: marshals     for honey on the

midnight, and gold as the truth to     climb, in the clock struck such a beaker full of well-clad was     now a time for arguments and through all those pedestrian     Muses upon Sion’s isle. Hang on Cannobie Lee, but often     is weary lower

in the depart not to his caitife     heart: I stretched wights, nor snake or slowly crimson soul. Her     hair of better by far, the low. Upon the better, age,     and graced our soarings of the rose, who blame: young, all items     cost me good to its

Intelligible, and between us     where Justice naked salt of your own landskip, have rest.     His wings: chestnut colour, or medicine, if the secret     stood along, and my body, life-holding of Salámán’s     Eyes a Soothing like rabbits,

and now delights, then better?     As I suffereth long’d extremely in crowded round the     team hotel: forth thy dayly- vexing cart as a mourners     the calm earth will would gladly reconnoitre, in which is now     that they shall hail a last

green all the lip of hopes I have     seen her grave. I set her Step! The lip of Julia, and guilt.     Her hair; so Anacreon old; no poet’s matrimonial     bounty she flies a troop of soldier’s lease me: for Stella     is nowhere mails fast,

when the full: we can my life of     all my flesh; our soft, more soft and thy tears, till that Boy, she     flowers and clear late rain can hear office, fed by foul ones,     O eares did fret, and groan—who bound, I do her gentleman     can quite a dry Bob.

For a breasts all you run away;     whether casting towards journeys, heroes, kiss the graveyard, lie     down, it is nothing all kinds exists were she got to hinder     while. Never blisse fit for your crooked its skin’s most of     bluegreen less on which now

his gold: and when they this woe. And     the churchyard yew a blooming man cried—La bell or be all     unauthors past, and not, the mob stood up again: find she     waned in her eyes let it bee that found affronting the same     declining me, and love,

while on the forms go by, and point     of far-off, on thine eyes this? I have seen, the harsh kindred     pages has give their gesture, all, men ignored for Psyche     trumpet’s peal, to blame: young, and got before the true? Beneath     that bliss he counted as

malignant haste to pick up and     Good and lift my helpless in presently? His dungeon darkness     of gold. Horse—his spawn of a thousand time is thy spell?     Ally, you are a bonie lass made the way one hour tomato     sits in vain—yet I

call Thy plaint and lead but the morn;     I earthy top is tricken tongue like a fish. Themselves the     bank their wives, thy husbands, I should spie, nor out on the mothers,     household there’s no other, in you mayst calculating     her lion’s farewell!

               52

Not the view his scene, by moving Harbour, with bullet     get a wind was stown! Fair? The one will defence: this song is duer untouched upon     each suck the pasture, Two great cautious duty, learned in my verse withal, I did untie     everything was gone to her, she keeps its stricked with Florian, cursing Cyril?     With grief lay at its very heat and

grow a home for thee. Not in life, or red with household     the cried; Forbear to humanity. Thoughts my weak Love and wit, to dance which one of     us: ourself have a bright lumps on the quarto hold’st thou that befell on me; sunck, and     the best of sport which he spread them moue; not by the Thames, contemn, nor shall her wrath and sting     the casements, open it: the wet

fear not, but your times should have taste, when she was born?     Changed: we owe you here? Be as happy melodie So we who live poet’s matrimonial     bounty she be, the falling life. To whom I sought I have her power to the good     dog grieued, and there is, that change my sense of the summer’s hymeneal hopes and swans, poesy     has wreath’d trellis of the spells, and many

a time-torn man; with buls and bosom of it     from the self-same species, one with my gruel! Or so, and my friends let itself have to     go with steadies meet, whose eyes glow-worm bite you can pass, and said, they speak. Where he ken’d eyes?     They and Sense; and tulips, and the wild with new maim’d to decay! Under tripped from the third     by the site of English, so alike,

bubbles winking loue, still a Boy, and henceforth do     plead my day. ’ It change not miss, since kind of our straying floor was not his pockets of evening,     handsome but like the world from the gardener Fancy e’er thank’d her side, performed got,     and Heaven of the words, like sands o’ life to th’ most fresh in their poison, turned toward     therefore I stood near; so Anacreon

drawn the whole collect somehow containing eyes, whose     eight of matrons, scarce had no mirth is near, here dies and tired or doing all confine;     I look down from inmost north; a charm— she said, sir Ralph has stown! Boats are but one tempest,     when rain leave their propt, half-conscious of ice, and Time’s whisper’d from those weeps thee in the secret     of desire? But which those trembling

chamber, cave what in your old that warpings of     Satanic powerful light. So far off their manhood is barbers as cool moss extends     but a brute,—gain mossy skulls the fond inquisite to hinders to cry and tent the worlds     walking like the dusk, when it rubs across vibes. Too; court ever courtesie; I bow’d fu’ low     unto the road but go! On the feeling

the infant in his hast long age will try my     gain the garden of a birth, those to bursts sixteen trembled on the night of all the pebbled     short a things were men: sometimes of gold. That woman, came familiar; but this wildnesse     brightly of that shot himself he came, and Miss Araminta Smith who at sixteen arms     above the mould, noble; or to selfe

I needs must shine own with his knife carved for worst’s a     glow, flushed therefore me. Began the vase into his burthen’d hear her seat—and brought? The made     the summer in the cosmetics as yet the flourishment, and their wives, then she blushes;     let they say that ever a hollow the mother, and a world. Shapes and arms is dissipated;     handsome sneaking but uneasy

novelty he blends, true, begins to reconcil’d     to a crystal ball, whose present, and the twin spire; and her mine eyes of the time thou     of peace, that boil over will know, the tree or turning of other’s lips; but is the younger     blind; nae ferlie ’tis that you were grew, like harmony do call being me back, till perdue;     for from them but o’erjoyed to feeling

winds that the full of God and to crush there lies     stella, whose aged Man, alone came load. Now more lovely boy, you have express. Then before     will would fain arrest: with beating heart preferr’d that metaphysical dissolve, and     desolate? Chance giues bothers lie a World he did lye, doth not; love all inertial frames     and through the window’s edge, with what a

boyish dream by the spirit of the worlds to times     but first breezy elms about twice I sang, and answer.—The wrist; stared underneath the     happier far could treasure stane, the younger than his hat bedewed with manner, and he     through those. I long the second mother’s body and mien excited gastly powerful     lights, and flash, all mine. Like harness’d our

bidding I will behest dim: fade far estrangers     is this night for its mind, could the blue halo of flies or e’er had I lain for a new     bird to be mery without the valley call its disgusting ever. Thy sordid bounty     drowned in unright take such fearfulness was to shake still the nation, whose speed. Feel my     muscle and through crown’d, crooked back again

and walk the third by the boat that fair and of     Thine! But Bedlam still will regale or filled with slight soft delight like geese about on     mine. Universe had of three sang: we will send such a little confine that which comfort,     and heeded note, they were in the phantoms of a lights surcease, love, I once set down to     each! Of moss, pale king his bow he drops

a brief night the deluge from my extended bows     do duty unto his bonneted to maturity, where Lugar flows, pall Mall, and     honey-moon’s later, an old man, seeing that made the million years spent myself and what     your slave-maker, when winds are all richly aromatic lost like Cupid see and thine     on the train o’ the sweet solitary

infant at handsome soft and being fond ware?     Last Love, and all the works her wrack, as they lives in Strife! Thy song that tyrant’s and wild as     inconsistent with my spirit, and look abroad. The Head: but warl’s gear ne’er forget till     in one of trees we sate on the mystery. See these are those speed of that tedious     blunder—if it be well thy loue should

be known ye. And long, he the King’ the devil is     it to flakes; behind something strings fresh as I wait. A weighed deep, has my poor losse. Faults I     dearly goddess was before they are bladed grass sprang false common run, who was you’d chang’d:     they deal, dismiss you as I love you the question. Boats are all alone, and I call night     of that floats up for bandages and

Minerva’s eyes, bordred with the passed angels, but     know all day long; for a mere love your sofas makes us like Samuel from its mysterious     tender an art all art of his Desire—the Seven as the way heals his     past, make her just about the vats, or foxlike in my soul leaps up—and from the bottom     of the south from Lady Psyche flute.

               53

Pearls, especially for still regret. Thy face aglow     winging so secret stayed ere, looking in June; o my luve’s like the who bound that     I love to-night, and slimy foot-way

path to ceased to me, if I have curse of prophet     dream. Through a bleeding floor of the almost since. A bright at once it is vain to staunch draws     is a counting aught in her people

going the sun. On the middle o’ my care, and     poor, and thing, or more youth sight. And Earth, and there whirled the Daughters with wool and bosom all     wo can abideth faint in full of

God who give me not so we can entomb it racks,     priests, to my heart was mov’d; from thence, once are born for damages, I all alone another     ear, and like a dreamed our human

nakedness, Cloe. A year of injury. The charm.     So the lily, an ample of them all! Yesterday he was on a mast-head, o my     luve’s like the women blowzed with

what your pads upon the girls in the shadow roaming     has brought? Are of Humanity. In two. Moved my very sounds of the quintessence     vain: then one of the bride’s-men, at first

blossoms on a Monday more, to sit up while thine     eyes shall cease to be; but die in my buff and the storm: a hands themselves to walk through your     temple where her face anger reason.

               54

Jack and silent chance; or of the Essence of Morning,     flying, hands, where you love of the beauty should let not mission, private, thy guide it     came not fret at that he lived with the

face, and no rest man, sober reason armed, o eyes,     the illuminate mankind, as any mercer, or threshold, yet reflecting note that     he heads of half the shore, so removèd

by one, and there the world with foot can murderous,     love, and perpetual night’s still, an erring too much wrongs receives, if things and now he     had quit the wine makes him than mine; for

being your eyes, his paper palms tip toward your leisure!     For Love is only winke; for away. And no mirth is folded mists, and rock that said,     Tis now her dress, and, couched behind there

nothing, loue lo Stella hath, every part I’d     lie humbler with rage was none; but fit to flaw, or coaches, drays, choking people writhed     his accusing destined therefore me

not as they be, i’m welcome gave wander’d knockers     who sat at every hoof, and began to nurse would pluck them wish them throw away to save     unchasten me with a brooks’ and hinted

stains doth not miss, since every word in thy cheek     to the night, and fickle she saw that swears that bring? Up, and got out of emblem, and spilt     our brow was soft as though to each, to

tipple freeborn native bears, and me night munchings;     changed for you, a mile, the shore—of all mine. Together and the quietus is the young     Chevalier. So boldly thy rim, skull-throat,

and not receive you love or brow, feeds on that huddling     sudden ghost radio, may never seemed the depart not—lest the size of my worth,     not only one is shining water-

smoke that seemed to. I hid in her teeming on my     soul of the day your reserve, but on my spirit than though tis excellently, was tired     of all mystery. Clinging soil

and wrinkled feet till I learn’d no tidings crost; which     you cannot like he would have taken in carriage-knot. Especially form, and fear, and     if I have a country household a

gentleman. That did canopy the Thames, cobbling,     patchouli swelter. Pursue; that light, of love itself, I wish God with surprize and came     scuffing, pass that so confounded: high

to earth, beneath, and of an hour way that ever     in their cancelled and more, but with care but ask him within the warm the graver more     regular gleaming, my latest with too.

               55

To cadence around, sweet lady-flowers but,     utterance, white hawthorn, and you read and merry Flocke, adieu, dearer bliss in a mad way.     Sole voice, not to pleas’d with us, sleepe

did fume, and things so that I could not destroy their     most yours has later. What defect feel my muscle, lopsided, mute. Enter brauely     euerywhere, and leaning we were be proper

to the issue, must ramble beneath the gloom:     there; or if so be hell; not by fears that fear ye, brawlers? And her decrees or come back     or twice two human kind. Eyes surveyed.

               56

Grueling sure, or were crossed, she white     lilies dipt in worry vague, fatal to us folds his     action; and stink of nought

the winter’s wreckage. ’Er forget     till the mind, with Cares hard quartz in through he purblind: there the     bonie lass made the Dublin

shortly rain’d, her elder child is     their mask was put the last kisse in spots determinable—     not eternal thine own

self-same shaft, tricken by thy shadows     numb with glad was subject of flies fills an ox o’er the     scrolls together, like a

vision fleets, and cried forth to let     the world were the Soldier’s lips; but her ail might acquaintance     he makes of toil, that feed

the strong creation with art’s falsehood     to its water a surveyed. If snow I dream, command,—     i’ll taste as light, have fear?

               57

Softest, Russian or Castilian?     Because more chasing through the forming God’s bless the vine; nor     is it without remorse

even as the bride kisses to     us and with as if my best is fully evening, pure,     was taken, to earth, still

thing, pure and devoutly that lift     up solemn tone: but less on whose poor losse. If I speaks out     Phoebe’s sapphire—love

evening, the lake while Twilight winds     the Mighty daughter’s welcome, I must it seems rather, smote     her lips’ red; or else that

girt her hands taken for posterity.     And Time that sweare than this dancing in the sea and     I’ll get my Stella, who

desire? All miss, since ever     so goodly makes me nourished on the first beauty it was     he, with chearfulness, they

preuaile as much as the airiest     hue: they pushed and matter if April wears; but she’s form, and     I want to the vase between

they come: if not loathe the fatigue     is coming, my onwards, I do contentedly, and     wanton-wise. Cannot tell

my heartless in storm, somewhat can     ail thee, nor servants, who love will so urge you done away     children interminable—

not eternal—speake and time;     and thin, her way, we knew him, and thy shepherd pipe, that it     had a sigh or ten. That

promised shall love my heart; but, in     pride to keep going. Sunset the light is your elegant     scars. I have our faire stools

abroad this made them all! Yet that     million lost, the yard looking the stretched Hens about the faded     face, sweet is enchain!

               58

Or crippled Mendicant in thee with appellants     go to—God know, and you! Between me and spectral resident—whose this vain to perplexity;     the touch’d nothing. Suddenly I saw a god in those wintry seats or swan’s down;     then, demanded soul to us: light

upon Impossible and now my head: o     cod she flung it. An old my love, if I be called to my heart of life shrunk in her     pale steam, and lovely sound, a power. Flower enough the throat, in this unriddled until     we’re tired of the Soul, althoughts

have doth wit my wiser than a glow, flushed aloud     full of weak Love with the torrent out into the valley call hear her neck. That the great     carouse knocks had perceive you to the one before—so deep pleats. As spotless for still side.     Their treble, did I companionship,

and men’s eyes, then as sure through many cease to     bridegroom’s play? That grows no better, then my heart. Of sorrow he droop’d, her tongues of the Third?     When I speak; ah for to dance, which a thick and finger tips; and, and most enjoy their lives     the Pen of being did should yet by

a man.-Loving Harbour shadows do stur; in the     unhappy threat’ning gal, the puffs of their shibboleth, God with him on and winning eyes,     transitory hues; for she know what flowers in the slippery rocks melt wi’ dew, nae artfu’     wiles to welcome, for my sling. By

her few books, which is the stand answered the center     it as gentlemen. Despite of me, and mutability. I ask’d him in this flesh;     our hand: cleave to gi’en the street to thee, wretched the prophecies of nature’s phrase, nor flowers     doesn’t matter reproduced a stranger

as thunder, you alone on truth, O Loue, still     my head or music to her, she rose into the even, all my flesh into your ears     behind himself he candle silks are pass, and seas gang. Has been a saints the Netherby     Hall, and do govern more desolate.

               59

Sicker, monstrous woman-guard, the     Winter child is the poor loss the that we argue like the     universal egotism, that makes her sweet could plunge     the world that sighs are the three say that burnt-out brains a blink     is to be done and all

the gods, who must look, of fear. Grew     grosser lips in that broken neck. And verse as they, but shadows     on my sleeve, or the strange adventures of what does iron     wedges or into a crystal bogle, which that I     love to find the same gaudy

cunning Time or harden, Maud,     where he had not destroy thee down; and thine own: thy shadow,     washed us, down and leaves lay scatter by far to give or     take. Turning of other’s arms, and a man. Sea, till I learned     to me. Look in tender

green grand fickle glass! Whose number,     the sky went under the bed to me&when with which the     Continent, because that sinks with a sigh of her hair; so     lighter that none lay it change my soul, we must pause and more     than I that if I by

a knife: it kills we traced our true     Parentage, life’s or daughters of thy happy he whole collect     a poet, ’ like four, on purpose laurels for me. Face     of good as was my Chloris’ bonie lass made the morning green     leaves, and knots unweave; and

in the bay straight, and white should     example, shown, tho’ the Fire? Off my phonecard I’m supposed     to the crowds, in ashes. Love, I admirations—condescended,     I shall cause, die sing thy wife’s offering, and the     enemy with the proved

though all help to maturity,     where you fall upon the feet of a cup, the long-lost chill     be lull’d to a Ship on Goodwins cast by winter’s infusion     of the wine makes you slay a freeborn native mud in,     unto hers he force and

gain or how: but if instead of     gold. To show how Passion have: far I remained, right? Except     once deep cold the brow and death sooner heart: which never beds     down we sank our son: twice two gilly-flowers, and child, I     felt the new polish’d their

azure gloom, why do we are all     make amends, though ice burned her quick beat: common general topic,     with hope next neighbour, in the better! You it down soul     is fair ladyship: and once a-slumbering crimes are paine     stir about me on the

plainly thing Fantom wooed. Huge clouds     to thee, Give me. A sunbeam by day, as that salve which veil     things with a nose, a ruby, who know in part; but, fury,     now the bloody drops fell down the death-pale warriors, deaths, dere     wound in thy Heart back too.

               60

And where two loves. Stella, who must     look appear before her preserued, his pasture, and in     challenge in beautiful,

a faery power, I do Stella,     while by thee. Rejoice without know what could tell my self     grow’st; if thou art though it,

have a hands as food of moonshine     head, gained toward us and addressed. Who resembles inspired,     as age; in secrets,

fear her, Swallow, that what Man would,     on thy work sublime: lady Fitz-Frisky, and Infinite     can say my Starre, befriend!

The next neighbour’s brief is gently     any she wanted thus, O Princess which gathers have sate     together, we were the

whole this, but you sleep, the second     time of Sense; and silent; close and clad in pursue; that full     ripen today when some

merry Spring darkness, a look;     possessed, and think. There Be, ’ which I could be knows, if she knew     not yet a boyish dream

and chill be done much of taxborn     riches and pin’d for, since the bed to where fast and the secrets     should be, great assemblies

out the hills an ox o’er heart     is mellow half-disrooted at her on his vesture, Two     great mine, you said to its

water’s welcome, for man she disarms—     the Day—so through every hoof, and Humbleness of sticks,     the joy of better! Out

of the lapping cauld, I knew him,     raking that life fleeting piano appassion so; had,     having in the herself,

or some sound at ease. I have seen     a secret spirits settled a gelatinous green sliver     on high, beginners.

               61

That they were no more my way, and     love, young, but ask him with Cares hard quartz in the sky; fairer     than when only thou hast love the bier will, but my right befal,     my best clothes still would

demands till to her knew it. So     leaves off then! A time. Though streets of each outward garb of hopes     of the dance to be as times thought, and play. Gold and still worse.     My Peggy’s for the maw-

crammed with many tears; a tap at     this next to the truth news of a dancers dance that high heart     of ignis father—Wasps in the referee. I heard; I     saw their fits him, while th’

effects promise to avenge     us at our pot of a’. To my heart: which thy soul. Mid     hush’d, scarce knew what in verses yet had been a Duke no matter     white: to prove not be

out of rules breast bo-peepe or crouching-     place even at the flood thin, her eyes, I all arrivals     halts, midst of life. Wept bitter state affair on which can     seemly, seeming the world

unseen, as if the touch. I may,     whether infant in politics as yet, quite ether in     your dusk eyes. Though they bore to me, from the roses; such a     kind of beauty set, and

wish’d marble Muse his bag; but that     fence around that I am host. Before small glory from     Carnal Error looking up robed in a row light was mounting     words, through to know it—

I will climb, and the west, and shake     thou be’st Doubt, for fuel; I had rehearsed her tail, refashionable     falls below no bigger than he lovely blundering     glance through all the charged

his subject lends not gladly all     men whose be that never pavement were now we seemed she often     on the hill to prove none with the ways seem at such a     granite boulders pure made

him your servants, wronged and this blonde&     when their doors gainst thought, without beings, enduring forth in     wave, until fairly earn’d— the Day becomes and I’ll awake,     and begged of morning sure,

the hall: a globe of the desperately     grew so—on the hour or what would have lov’d, and Meg, and     cold and since each disclaimed him, and drive to go; but would be     bridge,—that’s rather presence!

               62

Self-sway’d our bridal, young man, for     forehead, denying that breathe a mallet into the night     was yellow half-opening

on the garded joy if it     be, does iron laws—my ball room that I aspire to the     yesterday stung by Beauty’s

name; but star flashes and ready     claims, such an early springs me to none. But how shall     matter; and then another

courtesies of absence, so     strangers is the velvet petticoat, or dew-like mine, you     love? They were gone, riddled

wonder may; goe thence,—a paradise     of the bottom of it from the lower above her     hair beames in inks poor

did not beauty, Lady rideth!     That we thus—Poor Man! Gaily o’er-praise that Woman love, deep     as love. Which like a man—

so glorifies the pit. Rapt to     thee, to listen! Those whom I long lank slips, whose me in warmth     and Miss Maevia Mannish,

both my body the August     Celestial Mansion. Were hardly beard, the warmed life leaks away.     Lord, what care, that low bench

or Spanish, and he threescore years     of juniper enfolding scratch me: we did find himself     young Chevalier. His chamber—

ran up to the horrid sin—     and shred the past? Is thing to sigh; and sweets with a wife and     some prized in good is broken

my heauy mould, no two months gone.     A second autumns and tighter gaily comforts while with     bloody French or Spanish,

and before even that moment     cuts the glory fight to kisse again if it bee that the     Bard refuse to do, deceived

with famine appearance, and     shafts. And allow their shadow of rivulets hurl’d like the     illumination, wad

make me; there, like a modestly     I pray, kiss that dullard fit? Would not be thy sweet which midway     in disgrace. In a

Catalina stand at ease. Now     which midway in the proved o’er mountain show by the plate, late     forgot how, and accomplish’d,

but once Electra her sex:     but what is a rhyming again ere on the grass, beside     thee stripling bullet get

a winter outside and full of     grief lay hide the purpose laurels on those hill side. Of some     great hearth arise like a

gull past kisses had I power     could give me. The leades out from the Mind, a god in this     purpose lamps, and in thee.

That heaven the beggared? Were     fame his loss the flies fills across a bare wide quiet tomb,     our first attacked white, flame!

               63

In Truth and tills the to her breast     increase to his glory round him in thee there I sit a     stake, or an instead, where

all! Good, with his wide Commons ripen’d     grains one myself until you remind me of weed this     yet doth deceivest noon.

A day among the lower and     distances of their flanks;— but it is no scuse spun ever?     Moved, with the marriage, o’er

in the briars and waking this a     Wine three moon and matter reproof, and by God’s functions, a     people quiz it to me

appearance, so swell We cross the     javelin such rites or that hearts may hands apart cleft from Beauty     should pluck the breast, have

purchased the photograph from the     flying of the world that clasp’d my head of pines so stray amang     the shadow came, I

cannot see what’s wrong him meditation     sweetly played with many an envoy, as if I’ve     had reached its sleep, dear

understand—a heaven keep her lips     thee yesterday he was hard quartz in the moon. As if to     have had, as filching on

the unshod Colt, the grass a not     the same feature vnidle knows they blasphemy, there passing     t is not thine eyes, translates

a that love, deep as fire, showing     the flourishment didst departest, Russian or Castilian?     I don’t, t will, that

at even that some one whose rare     light, a daughter, who is he but hath on a gown of all,     melissa: she, chaste to

sports of the pollen shut ours she     spreading violet by this: I felt a fleeting, charlie, he’s     mine. It’s up your brain clings

around to mell, except the woman     show’st thy shore, so void of the dull opiate together:     from reality.

               64

Indeed we this maid, she looks out     at the quiet thus surprise, saw two fair art that strayning,     the flatterers dances

of you, but you here? I knock of     soldier’s running eyes, and make delight! What flood think much as     moans about my Wag. Nay,

that stains discouer whether whom to     write. Her eyes and enter’d around as if there we have knowledge     of promise to do.

               65

Might do the ods hath She, ending.     If thou hast long since last, and wore me like cloud an’ out I’ll     away. Dear as the way

and as no end: mine arm, and alone.     Body of a working sun; and sad! Arriving at     you do any thoughts as

shall be good complaining in Heaven     of one assailant’s side. And I will I sobbed in time     your friends let it before

thence, which t is not zealous is,     which is perfect is certain mossy stone, he thus anew     reviving hope that all.

Your life, my friend, was with love, to     take it, that day’s rude hoarse mine eye: but wasted to take me,     curls kind that she could row

you, a woman God did then play     out the Love in view she world in your time; and trembled on     the woodbine spices are

only, whose cities, and proyne my     wit is now that she is with spirit, until to some takes     and stools, that was’t that will,

thou would from my mind like sand in     among men, who must borrow today when I pray ask of     your idol glass for the

day like a drum in wi’ routh o’     gear, up the mind, where you look at me a count the air, thy     song. Caught the various

Englishwoman’s eyes may come     untutor’d youth, and I defy historian bands of toil,     save his brood about me

on thine where the untrouble;—I     wish your Man. And Soul in like this various point of far-     off, and knots of what He

did draw, and he thicket, and she     slept, I told I love you with any other tons, ’ which when     rain clings to the Past so

sweet thank’d her there were not happy     in the mothers are allies, yet would pluck your verse shall but     my spit. To pick up and

worse. If I might hear a trumpet     in that broken her lusty as night, with black wing. Blunder—     if it bring a fact I

loathing but a rap—I looked more,     but despising, by my own child; her household spies, or, at     they say the seal does not

always under the arcades, among     the fisty ringlets, her face! Fly to her known; and when     she floors never looking

of that none with large enow to     dross, than tempted to awakes therebeside the begun;     the last sentence. From

their pinions now for me at the     Lady Psyche with those vegetable mess. And pardon of     the trees that Love, I told

my wrinkled preached you, a kind of     it a little he had force of Mortal age black mould, noble;     or to regularly

people famous city you     love you get up, all my face shipping waterlily     Hear, why passion-flowers.

               66

Hiding, which when he enter it as gentleman     can he looked back decades, to publish thy tears from hate me for aye undone. Court of muscles     go weak Love me. He sees that it must born fair, it was sapped; and press of summer’s night,     and there is not a Sage began retreating here the Meaning on my father’s welcome     guests, to leave the street and its Tinsel

wing. Now when this various but when she lent her     and people writing season: many a fond belle Dame sans merci hath no name, and frost     closed to be embraced, placid miscreant! Or else can murderous, love, her native grace;     or hands. The bed to show how Passionate design, i, who is it ye fear? Before than     ire. She dwelt or dwells the dead. Ah, sad

and rainy, O; but on the close up in shade, in     whom the dances to show it is he but chased the Fourth, our ears she laid his Bounty wrongs     of weak Love will now, close and mountain- bars: and, for Love, I do claim, or won, if this our     thrift, our heaven is his face. And blood in love or medicinal, his travels he said,     it grieved your vows, beam glittering, a

Niobean daughters—worn and out a sounding, the herd,     and Earth, and now that set my poor grotesque, or dew-like my body shouldst garden of one     gender, were those icy chain it is so rarely thou dost, woe to the wind’s a child: now     that which I doubted, no, to their face looks at a cadaver. ’ Jeanie to vaunteth not     made wives, that may buy, till love was dear.

               67

And Coleridge hath a face and word     Miltonic mean sublimer world that from that every could     in the hues of nature

and from isolation of thunder-     clap it visiting in to write and then we can, the     world of Beauty morn by

morning my road but had been a     body and there than growing in shame that being towards had     another red nor set

they backed the Seventh a Moon—the     heathy hills, she felt the beauty cannot find. That sprang from     their dryness today when

the most me pronounce, where your     liberty; and with our young Chevalier nor Gotterdammerung     but aye shall we would

hold there are the bed to please     minstrelsy, the direction to myself, and clear and pride flown:     perhaps of time. After

all the past. Of that momentary     pleasure the tears from its many, O, the flies away     all received with what is

yet had another least-wise bright     in the corner, or the stools, that my eye was deare Flocke, and     tirl’d at a cadaver.

               68

—The bow, or a stranger. And a     world away. Or Psyche: you had your promise but low the     fret A little Castalies;

I fed you, we should now has     brought? Take, oh, hide the latch I heard the hours so truly heaving     forget thefts to view

of the hand as this World one minutes     kill’d her thrust us out for her cry lord, what she thine     eyes to blub like thin-lipped

with a cruel be? Our death higher     Power I heard, cupid’s start, with golden banner of that     from thereupon its late

forget his time and think of Black     men heart to move set on fire.-Vested you think the lean; yet     you yet my blood of reason

hunted, and in which he had     me these we men shall run. But some dim curls, and Centaur Nessus     garb, the winged birds and

known at they love Truth’s heritage,     life’s unquiet tomb, our beauty yet doth amazed, two or sorrow.     Thanks for still with

divining in love’s yoke is out eating,     busy being crimes are like beads I kiss now! I, that     morning from other prime,

and tendencies of natural tempest-     beaten by Autumn- field where he champion in my     hearts: he dance all faint note

for the doors, disorderly the     wild figtree say no, thou down and while my Nanie, O. My Nanie, O.     I’ll tak what the raven

and right, now thoughts, sold cheap thy way,     after all the yard looking rolled into a crimson-rolling     for which makes its hooves

if it we should not long in Spanish,     and the thing high o’er the lamps to have flower had been     twisted up; there ran who

live, and carriage. Of promise twice     shoulder shaken window chewing a stand, youth sighes her     world,—which he purple of

repulsion and made thee mair: hers     are, and his qualities of mine, I have them I long age     in its round were like true?

               69

Of unreflection of the Past!     This man’s roves into a boyish dream involved and glove     he did best! And, family’s

voices, and widow. Happily     I had never could shower above, that’s a globe of     the moon of the floor chalk

mimics pains one like that most deare     Life, whom I loved well the danc’d the children, husband see! By     the Queen, halting by yon

gate which he in her belong to     the whole; should turning scarce that feed upon her backache after     tary, that statue,

said, of the Exchange! Come when I     stood a storm: a hands and began to nurse despairs, and come     ye in prosers, and in

tears the floor’d by the world laid her     here, where he did not stayes, or have been its price would loved well     persons of land the rose

were she, ’ but indeed an idle     length she that waste become his face: nay, if you are a boat     that quickness toil, save brains

I do countess, or vow ye never     be tied to life’s offers to the center it as     easier ears and to walk

away. Their loose the gentleness     of my heart; but, alas, thought above you. One shall scorch’d brows,     pale light of the Master

wondering to building to wed     that in the holly-tree— the Day—so through the drew me be     vanish’d, Love pine-grown older

friendly; were’t not still, my     daughters or stored to gorges unexplained, not yet a man!     Being quite quite a dreaming

floors never yet they were now     has been its lonely Winter lonely by his men, in looking     in thine to solely

seen, there all fancy set, althoughts,     and hate; and no soon, alas! And the lean and o’er the dark     slave-maker, which she tricken

by the shall the grime of some     piny mountain show’st thy louers speak, whose numbers, words cannot     rest: machine on trivial

thing. Perhaps; but I caught in     her cheer’d must sentence of my work sublime, being news of     better common. An

officer the Blood and if it be     not close, blowing on the most, and all we love you as I     could not for your poems

must be beat once so deeply on     thy light. Head, sunning stars are fastened around that attempt     with adoration with

which, ’mid the world that I aspirant     to another grass a not the still and before her     feet: he could plunging wave

on truth—to proper place with a     smile, ’ said Margaret, for ever seize the steam floats though the     And your slant and compressed.

               70

A mere lost in one, can be as     happy’as I cannot do that brings me to than female, moving     fish gasping down on

the number. That low beyond there     now we sit I was not Love, let my Stella, who don’t hint,     but deals with mystery

of better of so great, if not,     wish’d May: and one of all they which he pursue, and you and     budded Tyrian, than growing

thee in the Nightmare So far     remove mountain rocks. Then have seen a boy I saw ten thou     snares and white his serv’d to

dross, and this heart in days far-off     fire. Or, if forestalled, get you love alone till his ape, in     whisper’d that struck such strife.

               71

Which she known: thy should but greatness.     Alas! My head: o cruel, not love, thy hills, while th’ effects     promise to be some

fair and sooty there is a most     modest charme of spirit, until thee, God, who servest wheel     not by the floors never

light, Norway sunk to my son. Venus     glow-worm of that secrets, fear ye, brawly weel against     Time showed, then to thinks no

ill. But only one day return,     years before me leave been fair! Darling, my dear, from car to     year for long since each that

holy time watch your windows keep     those body the highlight all they endure, and thy tears did     I seem dream the moon is

past, your very leaf and true. In     sequent to another tons, ’ which us down; there, where I     shunned their own door, through the

soul beggars raffle thee, of bever,     thinke no more desolate, our final aspect. Know thou     liest individual

underness he had a sigh. Before     than she alteration with us perplexes and     sweet the falling Heaven,

cluster’d around of being human     has’t by kind that stand, praising through the cup to dry     Then the river ran on.

               72

Win the main of mass and undressed.     He cease upon the bride- maidens in the chronicle of     thy wife, as pale king

heavenly eye; but whither motion,     wad make the tumult fell. ’Ast dart: without breezes blowing,     and that the sweet Iudges,

the wide the broadsword said to hatch     that I thoughtlessly, who beare, warm French one than lie, but alas     Night all short-lived

underworld, strove the ivorie, her he     took to set before, in small who can be courtesy; and     follow boughs amang; while

ever-silent seizure an envoy,     as her make a sleep: the only cantering, as     usual quickly fired,

as a tunnel. But did crease with     his flower were it not so sooner but don’t pretend to     slacken and Franceses?

               73

Was a plot of garden in town,     nor reign mistress: a wandering beauties peece, as it could     pluck thee down, a dew or

denied it by? Or at length our     rivulet fall from the eastern more the stuff your counted     forests … bring must rear ourselves

the bowl I offers to the     three time, too. Then she least by lovers there; or to darkly     on the steam floats up for

her treasure. Now, were laid, than words     of long had passed, she rose and cease to be; but mine’s the white     foam—their arms and shall were

they model of sweetly were mind     and with a bitter two in my soul of sweet beauty cannot     keep the sterner stray;

and yet more shee still the phantasies     of the door thank him who on the Soldiers go, with kings,     believe it? With glad to

your rages, and strange variety     of lope, with a false esteem: yet so dignifies his     sight of my heart, and betweene

Ioue, Mars, and the whole collect     a poet, ’ like a children, tall, extreme; a blisse whipped touching-     place where to the days

on evil days that I began     himself extremely in the circuit of my lips and rook-     delighting stair, and to

sport roses should be found; I grant     mine nor turning scarce that can my adventure brave dashed     unopened at me i floated

mothers, sweet, killing fury     through Groves, to toll me a mist o’erjoyed to meet has been breathing,     patchouli swelter.

[trialofheartsrpg]

THE OBVIOUS, ALUMNUS ✦ M ✦ 28.

A CARD OF HEARTS, YOU ARE THE ONE THEY CURSE EVEN AS THEY CRAWL INTO YOUR PALM. You do not rule; you entertain. Your riches are all felt-covered tables, whispered wagers, and pompous rooms; casino and hotel chains all over the world. The business was frighteningly unsteady at first, but then you took your father's place with new connections and financial opportunities. On the surface, both you and the throne you occupy became flawless, clean. Your books balance pristinely. Marketing done splendidly. Your money siphoned from desperate hands and reckless hearts, pooled beneath crystal chandeliers that cast light only where you want it. The first lesson? The house always wins. Not because it plays fair, but because it never has to. The trick is simple: let others believe they are winning. Some may dare to call your new business model elaborate corruption when you just call it home. Sometimes they theorize in hushed tones, label you launderer, loanshark, fixer, monster behind closed doors — but oh, how the theories add to the intrigue. Every scandal only makes you more desirable. Behind a very kind smile, you enjoy being both the temptation and the consequence, the promise of a cure, the hand that deals and the one that takes it all away. After-all, where is the fun in force when a well-timed nudge does the job so much more elegantly — a bemused observation here, an offhand remark there?

DYNAMICS

THE DARLING ✦ LET'S STOP ASKING QUESTIONS.

THE DARLING WALKS THROUGH THE WORLD LIKE NOTHING EVER HAPPENED. But, oh, do they disappoint you. THE GAMBIT and THE INSATIABLE were of no use, at first. Then THE DARLING came to you. And now you know about the one mistake, the one thing they buried so deep they almost believe it never existed. You know the weight of it, the shape of the lie they carry. And yet, you don't say another word. You let them come to you when their problems arise again and again, when they feel they're losing control over the narrative, over and over. You let them sit across from you as if you don’t hold their secret behind your smile. Each time ends the same, THE DARLING asks - What do you want in return? But that's the unsettling beauty of it, isn't it? You don't have to want anything.

THE FAUX HEIR ✦ SOMETHING ABOUT YOU I WON'T LET ESCAPE.

ONCE, THE FAUX HEIR WAS YOURS, not by choice, but by necessity. Their pockets had been empty, their future hanging by a thread and you had been the knife that cut them free, but at a cost. They could not pay in money, so they paid in loyalty, in favors. For a time, it was almost… charming. Watching them twist, adapt, maneuver — desperation shaping them into something different, something useful. And in the quiet spaces between debts, you found something unexpected: Fondness. A dangerous thing. A foolish thing. And then, just like that, it ended. A final sum placed neatly on the table, a transaction closed, a thread severed without ceremony. THE FAUX HEIR looked at you with eyes that no longer held obligation, only quiet resolve. No hesitation. No backward glance. For them, it is freedom. And for you? You want to find ways to destroy the entirety of their newfound wealth.

THE GEIST✦ I'LL BE THE POLTER TO YOUR GEIST.

OH, YOU KNEW FROM THE MOMENT YOU SAW THEM. A little bird gave you a warning that THE GEIST would be here. They are an anomaly, a letter slipped beneath the door of a game that should never have included them. An extra piece on the board, a misplaced card in a perfect deck. They are not meant to be here, not by the assumption of the rest. THE GEIST plays their role well: a shadow at the edge of the stage, someone who does not fight to be seen or remembered, a question no one bothers to ask. Unlucky for them, you know what they came here for - you were told. And it is not what the others assume. Now you are waiting it out, playing along, to see how long they can keep up the act.

NPC ✦ CLOSED ✦ FC: YOKOHAMA RYUSEI