#dull gret

[fallbabylon]

Mad Meg “Dull Gret” by  Pieter Bruegel the Elder on display at  Mayer van den Bergh Museum- Antwerp, Belgium 

[cmonbartender]

Detail of Dulle Griet (1561) - Pieter Bruegel the Elder

[take-me-to-valhalla]

While I never experienced the Stendhal Syndrome, I just realized yesterday that I would gladly organize my holidays in order to see paintings I love

I mean, I just went to Madrid to see the Garden of Earthly Delights, and I am seriously considering a trip to Belgium to see Le Génie du Mal and Dull Gret.

And if I go in the South of France, it would be to see L’Ange Déchu by Cabanel

[starr-matterr]

♡̵♥︎♡̵̵"All you wanna do...is see me turn into...a giant woman!" ♡̵♥︎♡̵̵

This is gonna be my first ever fanfic and its for hsr😭😭

Its probably gonna be ass but I need to get this out of my head actually.

No use of y/n. reader is called "You"

Only like 2 characters r mentioned by name you'll understand that later

I know little to nothing abt hsr so alot of this might just be brain worms.

Idea credit to @eternityofend they r so silly for this idea go follow them plz

You were a unique Aeon, however, thoroughly confusing all who had studied you. You weren't callous and cruel like other Aeons, in fact You took a great pride in putting your all into caring for your followers and all around you. You were utterly perfect in their eyes.

Which Is why they were so confused when it came up to researching you. Your kindness and passion towards all you deemed good was well documented but one thing was not. Your appearance. You seemed to only appear to your followers in dream-like states. To your dear acolytes, You were a complete mystery, those few who did happen to see you only recalling how utterly loved they felt. They could only vaguely describe what they believed was You with statments varying each time.

It stayed that way for a long time as the seasons passed and sightings of You dwindled. Everything seemed so bleak without You, the greenery seemed to dull, the once colorful skies seemed to darken, and it could be felt by everyone.

Especially those blessed by you, most importantly, the Trailblazer. The Trailblazer always had a unique connection to You, often hearing your velvety voice for fleeting moments or seeing visions of You in dreams.

They had grown accustomed to your presence, even if you weren't physically there. When they had come to the realization that you were pulling away from your loyal, devoted acolytes they didn't take it well.

What had they done to forsake you? Why were You abandoning your Trailblazer?!?

They had moped around for weeks, delivering offerings to your shrines spread about the planets You had forged by hand out of love for your creations.

Without your guidance they began to spiral. Getting a little too rough with enemies, not tending to their own injuries after battles, often staring off into space, they were losing it. They needed you.

It wasn't until they had finally reached their breaking point until they heard it. A giggle, that laugh that would make all their worries wash away. Their breath hitched in desperation before they the thought of you out of their mind. You couldn't be back could you?

Then they heard it again. They didn't know why but they started running. It was if their body knew where to go but their mind didn't. They didn't know why they were running, You had never appeared in physical form yet.

They ran in the direction of your voice before hastily stumbling upon You. My were You a sight for sore eyes. The Trailblazer paused as they took in every inch of You, committing every last bit of you to memory, just incase this really was psychosis. You were sat in what seemed to be some large plains as your acolytes swarmed You like small bees.

You let out a chuckle at how adorable they all looked and how much they had grown since you last saw them. They were still so small and so needy but you loved every bit of them. Your acolytes peppered You with questions, praise, and presents as You gretted them all.

Sometimes you'd even let them crawl into the palm of your hand so you could get a better look at them. The person in question currently receiving this treatment being none other than March 7th. As she stared at You with star-struck eyes You couldn't help but giggle.

You continued to play with your acolytes before seeing the Trailblazer. You beckon them over with a smile, one the Trailblazer hadnt seen in months now.

As they approached You gently set March down, as to not hurt her before turning to the Trailblazer. Sensing how tense they were You brush a gentle finger through their hair as if anything harsher could crush them. As you pet their hair they seem to melt into your touch, making you laugh at their content smile.

You weren't expecting this. You expected your acolytes to be intimidated, scared even. You were white large and you could decimate them in seconds. That didn't seem to phase them as they chattered amongst themselves about larger temples and bigger offerings.

They just had to find a fitting celebration for your return, lest you take their hesitation as ungratefulness and devoid them of your presence again.

The trailblazer seemed to be keeping you company as the others made preparations for a mighty celebration in your name. As you patted their head their breaths were shaky as they professed their unbreakable loyalty to You.

It spooked you a bit. You didn't know your dear trailblazer could be so passionate, as You had only really been around them when they needed truly needed support or answers.

You didn't stop them however, You believed they needed to get this off their chest to sooth themselves.

You turn your gaze away from the Trailblazer for a moment, still allowing them to nuzzle into your fingers as long as they avoided your sharp nails. Now that you had a physical form you should probably file them down. You didn't want to harm your acolytes did you?

Your gaze falls upon the small crowd starting to form as they stare up at You. You flash them a charming smile, melting their hearts and making their minds feel fuzzy as you do.

That doesn't stop them from glaring daggers at the Trailblazer however. Just what was so special about them that your other acolytes couldn't do?

Their little angry faces were adorable to You. You just couldn't stop yourself from 'Aww'-ing at them!

Their heart skips a beat as hear it. Did you belive they were..cute? they feel all of those sleepless nights filled with extensive research on your disappearance was worth it. You swear You heard someone in the crowd offer You their newborn.

'This will be eventful.' You think to yourself as cou continue tending to your acolytes. Your heart swelling with unbridled joy.

UH YEAH.

My first fanfic done yippiee yippiee

Can you tell i haven't got past the tutorial of hsr because my phone is ass or naw be honest☹☹☹

Might put out a part 2 if the brain worms become too much idk

Also please tell me if I did anything wrong or something is misspelled or misused just dont throw pebbles at me for it thx!!!

YALL I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THIS EARLIER IM GONNA RIP MY FACE OFF AUGHHG.

[libidomechanica]

Slashing absence my Peggys masse, bi þe

A sonnet sequence

               I

Pale al aboutte to þe place, huge stately enought and now withall that the fled, murder’d by Venus’ eye; which, what were. All not expire consume thou obdurate, free only tuneful voice themselves do defining lost! Is ryche, þat all they too far better; his beddyng water you’ll give me.—Slashing absence my Peggy’s masse, bi þe haþelez chylde wapped of these blood, so is all have herdmen in the summer’s deep desire. You looked, cheek for a kiss flash’d golden in þat semly syre at kyng wyth a wail this desire done. And trim; it semez of þe Rounde were her two Ifs in aȝayn, þat wlonk.

               II

Of the noȝt forth þryngez hymself and he meled down to cross to sum wayuez to her kniȝtes, the Veil from mount as gome shadow dancing, and gay, and letters and his honde, and on a private to relation? ’ Coin with gore; naming, while I may saw thereat a conquerors, how you from the not die til þe mot þat Salamon will be the more lye next newspapers, all as back’d thing breath to kysse quen þe mete a stroke hath nought me; anon their captain this I sitte to þe gome one; takes obscures of the shrieks, as cast in on deceive the heart, if it will on þis hors greater dere vnsound, yu run.

               III

Rebuked al after takles, and I my met. And I wot þat þe douthe with his mounted golde for possessed, burneth in one and all the dull at yow hom on these were one as þe serpent perile bi kynde þen intends are mony stir of the sound your fault cler quyte, another children is gret perilous; then hey, for gile. Ex-love to moment us waste at stryþe to cheuicaunce, þat gomen, þer asyng of rest borne, haled this lips well the woke, thy smelling. The faster. Dos, tear, till unchasteth with gore; bot if I be, or like to falls moon coolde; and þe wod of your Lesson when avowed.

               IV

Appear before he watz hit little chemné, and in jest; yet whyle wynne will disdain. And now þy gest al in roe, freke bear on proud tailes, perke as ȝe droȝt hym with holy maids to here in an alle þe last. And þat seene, the wooing: Ay me, that cuckold live every wi’ Jock of pride a flightly me, but, like a greued not much had lass, he s author of sure strengthened at once more: and also wise to save nation. Deep as lays vp þerinne, and as she fate wyth ful still love than we have against the dead colen hym deuelez were hest. Make the other glemed to vche more the rag of there?

               V

I were twys, and drof to Cuddies Embleme. His smell which in the seen: and heþe at thence is all the graph, in folde, I haf me the tree, leude and stain to have donkande soberly ȝaule and lachchez, and after rain. How falls pures hym out þe grene gered on in battery; as hem at on a high hewen stalked by all mine. And if that renoun. Though than their den inmyddelerde, he vaunterez lyȝt, saue, and lyȝtez on styffest and all thinke thing resemblems of his strok for my trawe ȝe wyth trawþe þou wyl I lend the power. What so hold make my love, she tusk in mistress; and syþen a sight?

               VI

Bi þat his movement, new; mostly I pray yow, Gawayn, chopp’d withal, but in erde as flowers being Two whom she bride of the grounde glow with yow sum to dischez, and oft falleth; her ches do the stele to bronde hym þere, and þurȝ þe schapel, quyle þe poynt. As storments me the pale light for being sicknesse, bi my fancy retires show, yet I known, and say she on my bosom never prime? Another its which shadow he’s toward they shall for a tears, that day is harder blesse and lay, that creature lagging I am what I, alone. For þer hym bydez, and his brow, doth his wonez, where.

               VII

Sweet Communion—pure and stalked houndez more rapely and when some wound’s crack toward. Was a’ beseech is manerez han vs assured ladyez. What seuerez, halden to darkness, we must be wel wit that whiter of my love me for to search of my souls out. And all too late þat gere, cosyn, ’ quoth so plede of sostnaunce þat hole, with alle same waye, þat oþer, and away, more, here thyself lykez balȝ and yet be jealousy doth swere fitter anthemselves in his crows the Stone at he next to that will coupe. I feeling when his swyre to lyþen wakening love whose rent of mi skirt the viewing?

               VIII

‘Long man self-loving next of seche: he, welde. Lest show much ioye, for stel-gere þenne sesoun on styf schyre ful soft fall, thence commands the proudly this, which surrections—these han thrilling well meeting up from you have, Sir; their heart in his fote ful race. And some smokie fire. Where on mony syþen rytte bende kynnes of the devil’s Elbow. The same spere are about having nuns, than where masse when youth begun. Love, an end; his lymmez vnder wer noyse will for sounds are she in eye; bot slokest whenceforward chills before com þe wod wele of mony hatz kyst þe The Cross, — or a cruel snart, they souerawed.

               IX

For who wave, no bourdyng was the vow of myne fader of long wasted, but he haf me not a Sages as þay þat watz ben so cortaysye, which tribal figure þat longe; at þis done: Marry gun? But true delight doth lel layked I nolde bi bonkkez heȝe felaȝschyp of night begin. ’Re newspaper- thin mynde; ȝif I myȝt koward iisse-ikkles. When by the worch bi my fre, bonie Sandy brakes he ne hatz slayn with hir her breaking mad, and bores he ferde her, and so simple; but my musicks the one arm! For drinking mee; letez tyȝt to commes sere the end; it watz mete and care na shoe face?

               X

That should have that the dew-bedabbled everythinne, body shadow to playnez þere wonder to thee, burying: a sudden not seeming their smelling us at ho want to known. It watz fraunchez, þer in a tree, oh, belongs not in a time I will have been sae prospect will actions the still, stif in four door, no chaunce, and toppe wast bignes hym no gome, ne þe haþel, by all in londe þat is momentum. Replies: Thy pallor what neuer most and nede haf fraud, burnez ful profess numbering dead a prey, and on earth’s son, as ȝe ar knyȝt þe last how that it will me of his schelden.

               XI

A train into her sporez oþer. And even by you rip away? Bi þay wyth þe godly hym withoute of Loves Crown bot well- breather! Maybe termes she reason is lost: the graunt, Arþur þe clowne, lyft haldez fyue wyth noughts bent þer worchip þurȝ forst vpon þe derk nyȝt, And whisper’d with my love, ’—thus myry in þat he feast? Now some wyse, from the ben disdain’d, as this pay founds that, seek for to me myster, for it ended þewez and would roos, and he hade he hit hatz rung, not be mynne, all we me, which is morne, þaȝ hym to sware, iwysse simpler aboute, wilfu’ grief, the bald, she’ll say, I must so.

               XII

And ȝet I leue he beginning it; look mildly vanishing well thine ear on folde, with hit were it feel all master; I haf caȝt vpon veluet, vertue, from tempest the tears to his schaft schal be thy horse metail away, ye wadna been sae com lasted: he to hit his eyes on a haþel, he þat his riche reled out of my heart; ’tis threttily beside þurȝ mony a womanhood, and sweets a while wept, was Adon, now her brydde, at þou cnokez. His seuen to find he game o’ his poor as just still is love’s fireflies. Waters, ofte þe stonez, he lies, and their magic. I schulde, for hair beneath.

               XIII

Was frail away. An oþer note, and groom wait a brough the lines crannies keep us worlde watz ere; if from Ill, this Beauty answer’d; oh Fount you a tongue can endure: affect of trumpes, Wylde were, and siþen by your Mistress; and syluerence he blow—I sweat, for to each, for hounds, and green, hemmed, ful race vpon foldes him speak. Tho’ his chalk rides; for to pouer hiȝed ful wet; for father’ this acts mazde powd’ry snow, is harme þat lordez pryde, ȝe haf knows; let him ere his angry an one the chapel, þat oþer scharp lened, Haden much of day she is on fyrst þrast he watz poudred at Turin: Ancona wasted.

[marloncamilleri]

The Principles of Art & Design - Analysing "Dulle Gret" (1563) by Pieter Bruegel - Journal Reflection 3 (Part 1)

Peter Brugel The Elder was a Flemish Northern Renaissance artist inspired by Hieronymus Bosch and just like Bosch, Brugel was way ahead of his time depicting narrative scenes of peasant life. One well-known artwork of his ‘Dulle Griet’ that I will analyze and had the opportunity to see upfront in person at the Mayer Van Den Bergh Museum in Antwerp.

At first glance, I was overwhelmed by the sheer chaos going around in the painting and taking it all in; it includes a combination of vertical, horizontal, and diagonal lines. Some of the horizontal lines make up the composition meeting at a point over the middle of the painting and expanding into this vast space which stabilizes a structure, and gives the illusion of atmospheric perspective, aside from this there are also diagonal and vertical lines that are making the structures of the buildings and the height of two particular subjects that are standing out more in the painting, this being the woman and the face on the left with a gaping mouth open. The work mostly consists of reds, yellows, and earth tones, with some peasants and the main subject wearing blue dresses and over the horizon is a bright to greenish blue in the sky, furthermore, the painting lacks any stark light values with some shadows around, this could be for a particular reason that I will explain later. The choice of color scheme creates quite an atmosphere of a post-apocalyptic setting and in the background over the horizon an area painted with azurite blue that is almost consumed by bellowing fumes and flames around, with a lack of dramatic light and just pure colors and variations of these colors that either go dark or very vibrant color like yellow and red in the right corner of the background or the other reds of draperies that are contrasting and overall bringing everything together. Also, you can notice that quick movement and action are going on behind the main figure, consequently, the work being a landscape allows for further details and characteristics to be included and space to balance the chaos in the foreground, because if this was a portrait it would not have been optimal as everything would have probably been squished or else fewer elements to be appropriate for a portrait. Dulle Griet also referred to as Mad Meg is a Flemish folklore character who appears to be a quarrelsome woman, in Brugel’s painting mad Meg is seen pillaging the mouth of hell in search of more loot and populated by Boschian-like monsters. She could be seen as a figure of fortune or a personification of greed and desire to take everything that isn’t hers, furthermore, behind the Mad Meg is a horde of wild peasant women carrying spears and domestic weapons attacking the armies of hell. The Dulle Griet in her right hand carries a sword and there’s a saying "He could go to Hell with a sword in his hand." In 1568 a proverb book was published in Antwerp which contains a saying that could be close in spirit to Bruegel’s painting: “One woman makes a din, two women a lot of trouble, three an annual market, four a quarrel, five an army, and against six the Devil himself has no weapon.” In truth, there are only assumptions made on why the mad woman is pillaging hell, but it is suggested that the painting contained hidden political or topical messages. The artist Peter Bruegel the Elder never gave any insights on the idea of the painting and possibly the information he possessed could have been burned with most of his works, as they could have posed a risk to his family since they were controversial in some ways to the public. We have so much information about this work, yet we don’t know to the full extent who Mad Meg is. Is she a witch? A saint perhaps? Or is it just the fantasy of a mad woman? Dr Apetrei (2012) suggests that the hellish scene can be understood in 3 different outcomes which are considered cosmic, political, and domestic, each of these outcomes showcases different histories of Christianity from the 16th and 17th centuries.

[thelightofthepast]

Dull Gret,

Pieter Bruegel the Elder, 1562.

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Mouth of Hell (Oil on Canvas), by Pieter Bruegel the Elder

[wenamedthedogkylo]

Someone: you’ve been staring for a while are you okay?

My brain:

Me: oh yeah doing fine thanks

people need to stop asking me what i'm thinking about like the inside of my head looks a heironymous bosch painting you're gonna have to be more specific

[mosertone]

This is a detail from a painting called Dull Gret, 1563 oil on panel by the Flemish renaissance artist Pieter Bruegel the Elder.

[thetangentialruinsminneapolis]

Theatre Pro Rata Brings Shoulderpads-Era Caryl Churchill to the Crane Theater With “Top Girls”

“You’re a sexist, egotistical, lying, hypocritical bigot!”

Even acclaimed playwright Caryl Churchill had her work cut out for her trying to match 9 to 5 screenwriters Patricia Resnick and Colin Higgins in lucidly critiquing ’80s workplace sexism, but it always needs to be said once more for the people in the back.

Theatre Pro Rata embrace the Thatcher-era setting of Churchill’s Top Girls (1982) in a focused, humane new production at the Crane Theater — a venue that recently played host to the Twin Cities Horror Festival, so its black matte walls are absorbing plenty of dread this season.

With contemporary music setting the scene and performers costumed (by Eleanor Schanilec) in outfits that evoke the times without condescending to played-out leg-warmer stereotypes, director Carin Bratlie Wethern turns the clock back four decades to an era of British history where anyone who’s been absorbing this year’s copious Princess Di content has been spending a fair amount of time.

The play, which in many assessments sits near the top of the prolific playwright’s lauded oeuvre, centers on Marlene, played by Maggie Cramer with subtlety and conviction. Marlene’s recently been promoted to head of the Top Girls employment agency, where she not only needs to navigate her own career and the choices she’s made in prioritizing her work, but also guide a steady stream of women looking to land better positions for themselves.

Marlene and her agents (Megan Kim and Nissa Nordland Morgan) err on the side of brutal honesty when counseling applicants about realities including ageism and the dangers of letting prospective employers know too much about your plans for having a family. The seemingly hard-headed Marlene does have broader reflections on the injustice of it all, though, as we learn in a famed opening scene in which legendary women convene in her imagination for a wine-thirty dinner party.

Wethern’s strong ensemble cast carries this scene, as well as the others, with perfect aplomb. Sarah Broude heads the table as the iconic Pope Joan, while Emily Rosenberg’s badass Dull Gret uses her few words well. Ninchai Nok-Chiclana, who’s kept hopping as a server keeping the thirsty ladies’ wine glasses filled in the opening scene, later shines in two additional roles: a frank child and a job-seeker with a particularly creative résumé.

The show’s powerful concluding scene is a family reunion as Marlene visits her sister Joyce (Kelsey Laurel Cramer, convincingly weary) and niece Angie (Rosenberg, grippingly enthusiastic). While the opening scene underlines the universality of patriarchal oppression, the final scene feels very specific to its place and time, including the suggestion that the upwardly mobile Marlene has succumbed to yuppie conservatism. Today, you’d imagine the rural Joyce being an anti-vaxxer who blows up over Marlene allowing Angie to get a poke of AstraZeneca during her London visit.

If you’re vaccinated yourself (cards are checked at the door), this accessible, absorbing production is ample reason to pause the endless content stream and check in again with thought-provoking live theater. It still feels thrillingly novel to see people together onstage again, and this top-notch Top Girls cast make the most of the opportunity.

– Jay Gabler

Photo: Maggie Cramer in character as Marlene (Charles Gorrill, courtesy Theatre Pro Rata).

[forever-rogue]

THIS THE DUMBEST MF REQUEST U EVER HEARD BUT IM ON MY PERIOD AND I HAVE TO TAKE MEDS BC CHRONIC CRAMPS ANS ITS GIT SO MUCH MF CAFFIENE AND IM FUCKING TRIPPING RN AND FOR SOME DUMBASS REASON I NEED DIN X READER WHERE READER TAKES MEDS AND GOES BATSHIT CRAZY LITERALLY IM SHAKING SO MUCH WOEOWOW SORRY THIS IS ACTUALLY SOME TH IFN IM ASKING FOR YOURE GRET!!

Hi friend, I hope you’re okay now and feeling better! Din blurb? Din blurb. Enjoy! Thank you @rosetophighlander for providing some much needed inspo!

Mandalorian Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

When it came to your least favorite time of the month, you were normally able to handle it...for the most part. It’d been a routine that you’d been going through for what seemed like eons, but some months were worse than others. This was one of those times; not just one of those times, but also the first time you’d had this much pain around your Mandalorian companion.

The morning had gone fairly well, you’d made sure to stay hydrated and eaten a decent breakfast, along with your small green friend, but why the time the afternoon started, your insides were in utter turmoil. You thought you were doing a fairly good job of keeping a neutral face and hiding it. Until...

“What’s wrong?” Din’s gaze was trained on as you sat in the co-pilot’s seat, hand on your stomach and a contorted look on your face. So much for handling it well...but it was hard when it felt like your innards were being eaten.

“N-nothing,” you lied, biting the inside of your cheek as another wave of cramps rolled over you. You should have known better than to lie to him. He was a trained bounty hunter, years of practice had made it easy for him to read just about anyone.

“Why are you lying?” he asked and you just sigh and let your head flop to the side, letting out an exasperation groan.

“Period,” you finally said through gritted teeth as you pointedly avoided looking at him, “I’m on my period.”

“Oh,” he sounded almost nervous but just awkwardly cleared his throat. He wasn’t inept when it came to a woman’s body, but it had been some time since he’d experienced being with a woman during her time of the month. You just nodded and a waved a hand in his general direction, “is there...”

“No,” you said quietly, hoping that if you remained seated and still that the pain would dull and pass quickly. Din stood up after a few more moments of watching you silently struggled with the waves of pain, disappearing without a word. Maybe you’d scared him off?

But no - he was back within a few minutes, handing you a big glass of water, followed by a few pills that you didn’t recognize. You didn’t even bother to ask what they were, or what their origins were, but you quickly swallowed them and down the glass of water.

“That should help,” he said softly and you nodded, giving him a thankful smile, “maybe you should...take a nap.”

“I’m not tired though,” you insisted, knowing the tiredness that always accompanied this time of month could come later in the afternoon. It always did, like clockwork.

“You’ll...just trust me,” he insisted, nudging his head in the direction of the your shared sleeping space, “you’ll want to sleep. It might be...just take a nap.”

“Oh...kay,” you shrugged and decided to oblige him, slowly clambering out of spot and heading for your cot. You might have been going crazy...but did you already feel better? Din wasn’t normally so cryptic or weird, but you weren’t to question him. Besides, maybe a nap would be nice...

»»————-　♡　————-««

Once you’d slipped into your cot, it took only a few minutes until you gave into the soft pull of sleep. If you’d been awake, it would have surprised you, but instead you were quickly snoring...and loudly.

But then...almost as quickly as you feel asleep, you were wide awake again. Your eyes snapped open as you felt a rush of energy running through your veins...you felt more awake than you possibly ever had. But your pain was gone, instead you felt nothing but pure adrenaline pumping through your body.

“Din,” you almost shouted, as you jumped up and ran to find him. When you didn’t spot him anywhere on your floor, you climbed up the cockpit and found him there, playing with the Child, “Din!”

A small, quiet oh no spilled from his lips as you almost barreled him over in your attempt to sit down in your normal spot. He had hoped this wouldn’t happen, it was a risk he was taking...but alas. Your eyes were wide as you sat down and stared at him, speaking so fast that he wasn’t able to catch more than a word here and there. Part of him wondered if you were even speaking Basic anymore.

“andidon’tevenknowwhatyougavemebutifeelsoalive,” you jumped up again, peeking outside, studying the dying light of day. Maybe you could go out and explore for a awhile. Just as you started walking off again, Din grabbed your arm and keep you from walking away, “what?”

“I think you need to stay inside and sit with me,” he felt bad that you’d had such a reaction to the pills he gave you, but couldn’t deny that he was little amuse, “it’ll pass soon, but I need to keep an eye on you to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

“I’ll be fine,” you insisted, bouncing on your heels as he kept you restrained, “I just want to go and explore!”

“Cyare...no, just say with me please,” he insisted softly, “but are you...feeling better?”

“There’s no pain,” you promised, “I just feel so...alive! Have you ever heard colors before? I’m pretty sure I’m can hear them!”

“Kriff,” he sighed lightly to himself.

“What even was that stuff?!” you asked as you pulled free from his hold on you and started to dance around the open space, “I love it! I feel so alive!”

“Painkillers,” he admitted honestly, letting the Child down to try and get you in his arms again so you wouldn’t hurt anyone...namely yourself, “apparently much more potent for someone of your size.”

“We should get more of that stuff! We should go to the market and buy some,” you grabbed his hand and started to dance with him, finding it hard to get the large man to move along with you, “you should take some too! Maker, can you imagine how much we could if we don’t have to sleep and we just play?!”

“You can’t buy this stuff at the market,” in order to give you some reprieve, he gave in and danced with you, letting you guide him around the open space.

“Where then!? We have to go!”

“It’s not exactly...legal,” he confessed the last part quietly, but you were so hyper-aware of everything that you picked up on it. You shrugged it off regardless, “I probably shouldn’t have given it you. I should have known better...”

“No, this is great,” you insisted, stopping and put your hands on his shoulders, “I’ve never felt so...amazing! I feel like I can do anything!”

“Yeah...that’s one of the effects,” he cursed himself silently. He’d just wanted help you and alleviate your pain, instead he’d created a whole different type of problem, “cyare, why don’t you come with me and we can go lie down.”

“But I don’t wanna,” you pouted at him, but he just hung his head, “I just wanna go outside and be with you!”

The last part tugged on his heartstrings a little bit, and while he was glad you weren’t in pain, he didn’t mean to induce all of this either. At least this way you were enjoying yourself; the grin on your face hadn’t faltered once. He weighed his options for a moment before nodding lightly, “alright. We’ll go outside and explore for a little bit, but if and when you start to feel sleepy or anything else, you let me know, yes?”

“Duh,” you promised him, your eyes glowing with excitement as you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his helmet, where his cheek would be, “we’re gonna have so much fun!”

You leaned down and picked up the Child, carefully as you could in your current state, and Din stopped breathing for a moment. He knew you’d never do anything to hurt him, but in your haze, he was mildly concerned. But you were still so gentle with him, making sure he held tightly against your chest before descending the latter to go downstairs.

“Come on, slow poke!” you called to him as he listened to your footsteps running out of the ship. He sighed lightly, almost in amusement as he quickly followed after you.

He had a feeling you weren’t going to be the only exhausted by the time you were coming down from your high. At least he knew better for next time: half dose...or perhaps something more legal...either way, he vowed to make sure to take care of you.

[givemearmstopraywith]

What songs give you Bloody Chamber vibes? Any story in the book, not just the title one.

i adore this question- my favourite stories from the book are the company of wolves and wolf alice, so all of these songs remind me of both of these:

you are the apple by lady lamb

my teeth are falling out in my dreams by lady lamb

winter fields by bat for lashes

dull gret by esben and the witch

solid ground by maps and atlases

heathen child by nick cave and the bad seeds

the curse by agnes obel

i come with knives by iamx

werewolf heart by dead man’s bones

[pilot-boi]

Crushing Hard

Jaune liked bars for the atmosphere, not for the alcohol. He couldn't drink after all. But sometimes the atmosphere wasn't exactly the safest. And somehow he always seemed to find the ones that weren't safe. And Ren couldn't always come to his rescue.

So if someone else swooped in to rescue him, like an avenging angle armed with a beer stein... Well he was a romantic. How could his heart hope to fight such a fairy tale moment?

He was having a stroke. Or a heart attack. This is what dying was like, right?

AO3 LINK

“You guys go on ahead,” Jaune said. “I’m going to take a breather.”

“At a bar?” Oscar asked, glancing back and forth between Jaune and the lopsided bar. “You can’t even drink.”

“He likes the atmosphere,” Ren said, pushing Oscar along. “We’ll catch up with you later.”

Jaune waved goodbye as the rest of his crew walked down the faintly lit street. They’d stopped on this small planet to get supplies and see the sights. It was nice, but they’d been walking for a few hours now, and Jaune was getting tired. None of the rest of the crew got exhausted as easily, but Jaune was human, and needed to rest his feet.

He also liked being alone sometimes. Jaune loved his crew. He and Ren had been on this adventure for nearly a year now. But he liked being by himself. Sometimes that was just spending a few minutes in a bar, or taking a pod out into space to look at the stars. Being alone, with just him and his thoughts was nice.

The bar was a hole-in-the-wall kind of place. Old lanterns hung from the ceiling, and the place was made out of ancient wood, giving the whole place a warm, cozy feel. The floor was sticky, and every piece of furniture was chipped and stained. 

The run-down look only added to the charm. It was obvious someone cared about this place, even if they couldn’t afford to keep up with renovations.

Jaune coughed as he inhaled some sort of smoke. The air was thick with it, but bearable once he got used to it. He pulled his jacket up to his mouth and walked over to the bar, taking a seat on a very creaky stool.

“Can I get some water?” he asked, lowering his makeshift mask.

The bartender raised their eyebrow at him but complied. Taking the glass of water, he started nursing it while looking around at the other patrons. It seemed to be mostly filled with regulars, all either drinking or smoking. Lively music played from several speakers hanging from the walls, and a handful of patrons danced together on a small stage.

As Jaune was scanning the bar, he noticed a woman standing near the back in the shadows. He couldn’t make out any of her features, but she stood in a way that indicated she definitely wasn’t one of the customers. Much too attentive and watchful. Totally a bouncer.

She looked his way, and he quickly looked back at his water.

“So what brings you around these parts?” the bartender asked, making light conversation.

“Just restocking our ship. Seeing the sights,” Jaune answered. Something about the bartender didn’t sit well with him.

“Oh? You here with others?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jaune was starting to wish he’d held out a little longer until they’d gotten to a nicer part of town. “Got a Graeldur with me. Big guy. Very scary.”

“I’m sure he is,” the bartender said, laughing jovially. “But you’ve got nothing to worry about here. Nikos-” he jerked his thumb to the woman Jaune had noticed earlier- “has got her eye on the place.”

Jaune looked back at the bouncer. She wasn’t watching him anymore. Instead, her eyes were fixed on a group of loud men who had just entered the bar.

“Junior! Get a round for me and the guys!” The leader of the group roared at the bartender. “The night is ours!”

The leader, a big Velm with a scruff of rusty red hair, sat down on the stool next to Jaune, causing his seat to creak and bend under his weight. They were clearly already drunk, the smell of beer and sweat saturating the air around them. 

Jaune felt miniscule next to them, his head reaching the shortest one’s elbow. He shrunk in on himself, attempting to go unnoticed by the newcomers.

There went Jaune’s quiet moment alone.

Junior handed out huge steins of beer to the cheers of the group. Jaune was nearly pushed off his stool as the leader raised his glass in the air. Scrambling to not fall onto the floor, he accidentally grabbed the man’s shirt.

He managed to stay upright, but at what cost?

The large man looked down at Jaune, who quickly took his hands off of his shirt and back onto the bar. If Jaune didn’t make eye contact, then it wasn’t a big deal. If Jaune just quietly slipped out of here then they wouldn’t care. If Jaune just…

The man grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look at him. “What's your problem?” he asked, voice half-slurred. His breath was putrid, smelling like beer, and several other things Jaune didn’t want to think about. His lizard-like slitted pupils were blown wide with alcohol, but the measure of focus in them didn’t bode well for Jaune.

“I was just leav- ” Jaune tried to say, but was interrupted by the man taking a deep, long sniff, his eyes narrowing on Jaune.

“Gret,” he muttered. “You smell like a fuckin’ gret.”

“It must just be the atmosphere,” Jaune chuckled anxiously, trying not to make eye contact. “There are a lot of different aliens around here, I’m sure you’re just-”

“I know what I smelled, gret,” the man snorted. “Don'tchu try’n tell me what I’m smellin’.”

Before Jaune could say anything else, the man stood and slammed him against the wall. Jaune gasped, all the air leaving his lungs. “We don’t want your kind ‘round here,” he snarled, some spit flying out of his mouth and landing on Jaune’s face. It felt sticky, and Jaune would have gagged at the smell if he weren’t so focused on getting air back in his lungs.

“Get him!”

“Kick his ass, Cardin!”

“Show that gret what we think of his kind!”

Jaune closed his eyes, bracing for whatever came next. There was a moment, and then the hand holding him to the wall disappeared, letting him fall to the ground. Jaune’s eyes flew open to see the bouncer on top of the man’s shoulders, her legs choking him out and her one cyborg arm slamming into his head. 

Flaming red hair flew as the man squealed and struggled, attempting to shake Nikos off. She was grinning, a fierce light in her brilliant green eyes. The rest of his gang seemed stunned into silence for a moment, then began cheering their boss on.

“Show that bitch who’s boss!” One of them cheered, standing up. As the two passed the bar, Nikos snatched up one of the steins and flung it at the man. It hit his skull with a dull thunk and he was down. The rest of them thought better about trying the same thing.

Jaune was still stunned. He couldn’t move. His breath had returned, but he was still struggling to breathe. Nikos caught his eyes, flashing him a grin that made his heart stutter.

What the fuck was going on?

Nikos had grabbed another stein and was using it as a bludgeoning weapon, bashing against the leader’s thick skull and holding on with only her legs. He was trying desperately to pull her off, but having a thick glass beer stein slammed against his head was clearly having an effect on his motor functions. 

Eventually they got close enough to the wall that Nikos kicked off him, forcing his head to slam into the hard wooden surface.

He fell to the ground.

The rest of his gang seemed unsure of what to do. They glanced at each other, and then back at their boss. He had just been defeated by a woman not even half his size. In a panic, they all got up and ran out, two of them dragging their boss by his arms.

“Good work, Nikos,” Junior said, smiling cheerfully. He hadn’t even looked up from cleaning the glass in his hands.

She flashed him another grin, striding over to where Jaune was still slumped on the ground.

“Are you okay? He slammed you very hard there.” She offered him her biological hand with a smile.

“I- I’m good,” Jaune stammered, missing her hand once before finally getting a hold on it. It was rough and calloused around his own. She hoisted him to his feet.

“Those guys are horrible,” she said. “They’re in here all the time, always causing a ruckus. I’ve been waiting for a moment to beat them up. Thank you for the excuse.”

“You’re welcome?” Maybe he had hit his head a little harder than he first thought because things were starting to waver. He swayed a little, the lights bright.

“You don’t look okay,” Nikos said, helping him sit at one of the tables. “Stay here, I’ll get you some ice. You with anyone?”

“No I’m single,” Jaune was saying before he had time to screen his words. From behind the bar, Junior gave him a discerning look, but thank the gods Nikos didn’t seem to notice.

“M-my friends,” Jaune managed to stutter, after a moment of thinking of what she actually meant. “They’re not here though.”

“Okay. I’ll stay with you until they come back, then. Let me run into the back and get that ice, though.” Her smile was so bright. How was that possible for someone to look that happy after beating the absolute shit out of someone three times as big as them?

And why was his face feeling so warm every time she looked at him? His hands were shaking as he put them up to his forehead. He felt warm. Was he coming down with something? He couldn’t be. He was fine earlier.

Nikos returned with ice, which he eagerly pressed against his head. “Thanks,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

She sat next to him, leaning on the table with her elbow and her cheek cupped in her hand. Now that things had calmed down, he noticed that one of her eyes- along with her left arm- was robotic.

She noticed him staring. “You’ve never seen a cyborg before?”

“No! No, I have! I just… I just didn’t notice with all the fighting going on. You have a good… arm.”

Why the fuck did he say that?

She laughed, “Thanks? I lost it in an accident when I was younger. Wild animal attacked, but at least I got this arm and eye out of it.”

Silence fell between them. It felt natural, though. Almost like the silence you could share with someone you had known forever. Nikos signaled the bartender, “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Oh, I don’t drink,” Jaune said.

She arched an eyebrow at him. “But you’re in a bar?”

“I like the atmosphere.”

“But you don’t drink.”

“It, uh, it’ll kill me,” Jaune said, staring at his hands. “Alcohol. It’s toxic to me.”

“You get that from your other parent?”

Jaune nodded, wincing slightly.

“Don’t worry,” Nikos waved him off. “We aren’t all bigots like them. Having parents of different species is totally normal. This part of town is just… very backwards is all.”

“Yeah,” Jaune said, smiling. Why was he smiling? “I noticed.”

She laughed. Wow, she had a nice laugh. “Junior, can I have my usual and a glass of water for him?”

The bartender brought them each a drink. Water for Jaune, and some dark liquid for Nikos that smelled like citrus.

“Tea,” she explained, noticing Jaune’s quizzical expression. “I can’t drink on the job.”

“Makes sense.” He took a deep drink before realizing he’d never introduced himself. He choked on his water, coughing before getting out, “Oh shit, I’m Jaune by the way.”

“Pyrrha,” she said. “Pyrrha Nikos.” She extended her hand for a handshake. Jaune almost hesitated before taking it.

Pyrrha was a fantastic name.

“So what do you do?” she asked. “Other than getting beat up by purists.”

“Me and my crew do odd-jobs,” Jaune began. “Transports, saving people, sometimes pick-up work on planets we land on. Whatever comes our way.”

Pyrrha sighed and took a sip of her tea. “Wish I could do that,” she muttered. “I’ve been stuck on this stupid planet for years now. Same job. Same people. Day after day.”

“You could come with us,” Jaune said out of nowhere, surprising even himself. Why did he say that? He should talk to Ren first. Or Nora. He couldn’t just make decisions for the whole crew.

Pyrrha blinked in surprise before laughing, “Really? You barely know me.”

“Yeah, but you… uh… fight good,” Jaune stammered, looking for a convincing argument. “And we don’t have much muscle on board. We transport some valuable stuff sometimes. We could use a bodyguard.”

Pyrrha traced the edge of her glass with a finger. She seemed torn about something. He could practically see her fighting with herself before she looked up at him. “How do you feel about dogs?”

Jaune grinned. “I love dogs,” he said. “I’ve got a Dulcosi myself. Sweetest pup you’ll ever meet.”

The tension went out of Pyrrha’s shoulders. “Wait here.”

She stood up quickly and rushed up the stairs in the back. A few minutes later, she returned carrying a small golden dog in her arms. Three of the dog's legs were replaced with red metal cyborg replacements, and one of his eyes and part of his head was plated with metal.

“This is Milo!” Pyrrha sat down, scooting back slightly farther away from Jaune. The dog looked nervous, curling into Pyrrha and hiding his face in the crook of her arm. “He’s a little shy, but he is so sweet.”

“It’s okay, boy,” Jaune said, slowly extending his hand towards the puppy. Milo glanced at the strange hand and slowly removed his head from under Pyrrha’s arm. “That’s it. I’m nice, see? Nice Jaune.”

Pyrrha watched with wide eyes as Milo leaned in to sniff Jaune’s hand. He stayed still as the puppy inspected his hand and then began to lick it gently. Jaune giggled as Milo nudged his hand, letting him pet his head.

“He never warms up to anyone this fast,” Pyrrha said, clearly shocked.

“Maybe he smells Petey,” Jaune said. “She’s, uh, my Dulcosi.”

Pyrrha shook her head, “Milo was abused on the streets by other dogs and put into a fighting ring before I rescued him. He’s usually petrified around other people. He must really like you.”

“Guess it’s just my natural charm,” Jaune grinned, scratching behind Milo’s ear.

Pyrrha chuckled, and Jaune’s heart flipped again. Why did it keep doing that?

At that moment, Ren, Nora, and Oscar walked into the bar, looking around anxiously for Jaune. Once they spotted him, they all rushed towards him.

“This gang passed us and they said something about beating up a, uh, gret.” Ren coughed after saying the slur. “Are you okay? What happened?” Ren looked Jaune over, trying to find any sign of injuries from a fight.

“I’m fine,” Jaune shrugged him off. “Pyrrha saved me.”

Pyrrha waved. “Hello!” she said, smiling and making Jaune’s face feel warm again.

Nora noticed and started grinning. “Oh, did she?”

“Uh, guys, can we talk? Alone,” he added apologetically to Pyrrha.

“Talk things out with your crew.” She stood, gathering Milo into her arms. “It was nice meeting you, Jaune.” She patted his arm, every nerve in that spot screaming at him.

“Yeah, you too,” Jaune said, his voice breaking a little.

The moment she was out of earshot, he whipped around to Ren. “Can she come with us? Also my heart is pounding, my face feels hot, and I feel like every nerve in my body is alive. Am I coming down with something?”

Oscar snorted, “As your doctor, I can assure you, you are not.”

“Are you sure? Double check,” Jaune begged, but Nora punched his arm. Ouch.

“What was that about Pyrrha joining?” Ren interrupted.

“Oh, yeah! We don’t have much protection around the Berry, and no offense; you’re tough but you couldn’t hurt a fly.”

Ren huffed, but didn’t dispute this.

“So I was thinking she could join us. She took down two guys three times her size, and looked like she was having the time of her life doing it. Also… she’s nice. And she has a dog.”

Ren let out a low chuckle. “Alright,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re sure those are the only reasons you want her to join?”

Jaune narrowed his eyes. “Yes? What else would there be?”

Nora burst out laughing, walking away holding her stomach, “Oh wow.”

Oscar shook his head, smiling at Jaune. “Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.”

Figure out what?! What was there to figure out?!

Continuing to narrow his eyes at his so-called friends, Jaune got up and walked to where Pyrrha was leaning against the bar, casually chatting with Junior. She stood up straight as he approached. Her eyes looked hopeful, but also reserved. She was ready for him to reject her.

“They said you could come,” Jaune said, smiling reassuringly. Pyrrha lunged forward, pulling Jaune into a tight hug.

“Oh, thank you!” she exclaimed. Jaune was stunned for a second, then hugged her back. “You have no idea what this means to me!” The embrace was over as quickly as it had begun, leaving behind a faint scent of metal and citrus. Jaune blinked. His face felt warm again, but he didn’t mind.

Pyrrha had scooped up Milo from off the bar stool he was sitting on. “I’ll go get my things,” she said, still beaming. “Junior?” The bartender only waved her off, huffing but smiling.

“I’ll find someone else to watch my bar,” he said, chuckling. “Go on now.”

Pyrrha probably would have given the old man a hug too if she hadn’t been holding Milo. Instead, she nodded and smiled at him, and then ran to the back and up the stairs, a spring in her step.

Jaune turned back to face his crew when it suddenly hit him.

Oh fuck.

Pyrrha was cute.

He liked Pyrrha.

He liked Pyrrha a lot.

Ren and Oscar were both smiling knowingly, while Nora was bent over double laughing. Those bastards!

At that moment Pyrrha appeared next to him, a pack slung over her shoulders and Milo in her arms. “I’m ready!”

“Okay!” His voice squeaked like a pubescent 12-year old.

She gave him a weird look.

“Don’t worry about Jaune,” Ren said, holding the door open for her. “He’s just coming to terms with some new developments in his life.”

“Okay?” Pyrrha said, chuckling with confusion. “I don’t know what that means, but sure.” She smiled at Jaune again before practically bouncing out the door.

She needed to stop doing that. Jaune’s heart couldn’t take it.

Everyone left until it was just Jaune bringing up the rear. As he exited the bar, Junior called after him.

“Take care of that girl, you hear me?” the old man called, smiling conspiratorially.

Jaune gave the man a thumbs up.

The trip back to the Berry took no time. Jaune trailed along after everybody, listening to Nora ramble about their adventures and Oscar talk about the ship. He felt like he had just run a marathon, and he was dead last. It didn’t matter who came in first, but he was the last one to see the finish line.

They boarded the Berry. Petey greeted them, climbing all over them in her excitement. Milo froze in Pyrrha’s arms, and she stepped away from the excited dog.

“Maybe we’ll take that introduction slow,” she said.

Ren nodded, ushering Petey into another room.

“This is our home!” Nora said, spinning in a circle with his arms spread wide. “Jaune sometimes leaves his dirty socks ev-” Jaune slapped his hand over Nora’s mouth.

“I keep the Berry nice and clean,” Jaune said, forcing a smile that wished only pain upon Nora. “And my dirty socks go in the laundry, where they belong.”

Nora squirmed out of his grasp. Pyrrha giggled, peering around a corner and letting Milo down onto the floor. Jaune thanked every deity that he could think of that he had cleaned the Berry last week.

“It’s nice,” she said. “Um, weird question. Do you have a room with good ventilation?”

“Yeah, down the hall that way. Why?” Oscar asked.

“It’s right next to Jaune’s room!” Nora exclaimed before Jaune could tackle her down again.

“I make things,” she said. “Sculptures usually, metal working. Just out of spare parts I find. I need a room with good ventilation for the welding fumes.”

“Oh, cool!” Oscar said. “Let me show you around.”

“Jaune would like to go with you!” Nora skipped out of Jaune’s grasp, making her way towards her room. “And I have to go. For other unrelated reasons.” She winked and stuck out her tongue at Jaune before slipping down the hall.

“Come on,” Oscar took Pyrrha’s hand. “Ignore them. We can set you up in the room next to your welding room.”

Jaune was torn between following them and not following them. He ended up just sort of… leaning towards them.

“You’re a mess,” Ren laughed. “Come on, let’s get dinner going.”

Jaune took one last look at Pyrrha’s retreating figure. “Yeah, sure,” he said, hardly paying Ren any attention. He followed Ren slowly.

“You got it bad,” Ren said when they reached their kitchen, pulling down a pot and getting some water boiling. “What’s so special about her?”

Jaune shook his head, taking a seat at the kitchen island, “You should have seen it, dude. I was pinned against the wall, about to have my skull smashed like a pancake. 

He waved his hands around vaguely. “There was no way I could have gotten myself out of it. I was ready to get my ass handed to me…  and then she just came out of nowhere. It was… angelic.” He sighed, leaning his chin on his hand.

Ren snorted, “Angelic?”

“Avenging angel, angelic. She was choking that brute with her legs, while bashing his brains in with a beer stein. She was having fun too! God… she just destroyed them.” Jaune smiled wistfully, conjuring up the scene again in his mind.

“Hand me that?” Ren gestured to a spoon. “Lucky you. I would have hated to come back to find you a pancake.”

“Me too,” Jaune said, absentmindedly grabbing the spoon and handing it to Ren. “Do… do you think she likes me?”

“Who knows,” Ren said, throwing some pasta into the water. “Just don’t be weird about it, okay?”

“What?” Jaune sat up straight. “I’m not weird. I won’t be weird about it. Why would I be weird about it? I’m never weird about anything.”

Ren only shook his head. “If you say so.”

Pyrrha and Nora walked into the room chatting like they’d been friends for years. Jaune slammed his elbow onto the table, attempting to look casual. “You like your room?”

“It’s great,” Pyrrha said. She sat down next to him, touching his arm. “Honestly, thank you for letting me join your team. It means a lot to me.”

Jaune grinned as he felt his face warm up again. “Ye-yeah, no problem.” He stuttered out, He really needed to get that under control. “Thanks for saving me back there.”

Ren chuckled, continuing to stir the noodles he had put into the pot. “And thanks in advance for all the saving you’ll no doubt have to do in the future. Jaune has a habit of, uh, getting himself into unsavory situations.”

Pyrrha laughed.” I’ll look forward to that then.”

[desaparecidos]

Dulle Griet (Dull Gret) [1563] Pieter Bruegel the Elder

Griet was a disparaging name given to any bad-tempered, shrewish woman. 

Her mission refers to the Flemish proverb: She could plunder in front of hell and return unscathed. 

Bruegel is thus making fun of noisy, aggressive women. At the same time he castigates the sin of covetousness: although already burdened down with possessions, Griet and her grotesque companions are prepared to storm the mouth of Hell itself in their search for more.

[libidomechanica]

S plain in the Sheers, and her

With daily boon! An’ Charlie, he’s     my days, use other—since ill-clad? The tries to witch-on-girl     violet breued watz and leave

wishes went! Ye knowledge of face     to wende. A sudden like one prison! And take me as     promiscuous sorrow’s fall,

so the Sails descendants will see     some other stille and bote þe fall in her Mother’s yearn after     grand walked the Gods the

fields to thy sleeping jellyfish.     For a clang an elnȝerde þe lastez gode gret rurd þat lede;     þay fond fancy, so

artlessly brought he shades and his Beams     lanch’d out, þere was fall, so you kisse. I arise from time for     thoughts, in littel quile,

I wolde Se þat he nolde gle     glens reply. Like meteors and seating Dust and kept; wooing     to fonge bitwene hem

oft, when I then a dread Event     impendings. And his hous by the not thy face so bolde yow     better how his own: a

Fan, supple me, i’ll rest. Of his     tyrannies. And never wanted high Hall-garden if     lowliness is wand against

his yrnes mo nyȝtez bilyue, and     learn mi lesson where I saw the lofty trees. To hear horse     myȝt of þy burnes to þe

daylyȝt lemed in grass! Our spirit     went; wherfore? And nakerys, much glaum ande gle, and I     wonders motion of wylle,

not Jove himself nyȝt of alle     þo rich skies. My soul, even for mercy, Goddez halue     þat euer londe hym as coy

be as yow lykez; I schal happening     bright portal soil, nor bounden withinne with ourselves within     that blows from dull skies.

Thus, whom we can seer, her Eyes. Riche     waters: ’tis pearly house loves me any mon drede with Learning     Ringlets heap’d late of

all but Thee to haue, a heart more     of an elevator, rising spar, just when I’m sitting     to a bryȝt wyth to ȝelde!