#it feels like a point of no return and i think thy know it to an extent

[qoldenskies]

the next chapter is gonna be an interesting one to write because the excitement to finally give the catharsis of revenge is contrasted with the knowledge that this is not a healthy decision the brothers are making. like at all. like you can argue that it IS necessary because donnie did piss off more than one witch and they have no way of knowing who the FIRST guy was, so someone could just summon kitsune again so she needs to be taken care of to cut out the problem at the root

but also it is just not a healthy thing. that they are doing. but i guess that's one way to put their trauma front and center now that things are looking up for donnie, because i do think everything that happened has desensitized them to violence in a kind of unsafe way. what they did to donnie is gonna fuck them up for good but i think going after kitsune, fully in their right minds, with the intent to kill is going to mark them irrevocably. i mean.......slay though

[universaln0b0dy]

Scales (Malleus x reader)

Summary: Malleus does something so small and so insignificant you believe you shouldn't be as sad as you are. Sadly back in your hometown that small gesture had a gigantic meaning.

Note: you know all of these "reader accidentally courts them" type of fics? Yeah it's this, just reversed. Malleus accidentally courts the poor reader.

Malleus had his tail out, the reason wasn't important. You had been hanging around the fae for quite a while and even after finding out he was the feared Malleus Draconia everyone told you about, that didn't take a toll on your feelings for him. No, they significantly went overboard and now you had a crush. Yay.

"Oh! Malleus, there is a scale on the floor." You weren't sure if it was normal for a dragon fae to loose a scale once in a while, but you wanted to point it out nonetheless. Carefully you put it back into his hand, only to get fixated by it.

Back in your world there was a story about a knight who wanted to marry a princess, but the king didn't want them to marry, so he ordered the knight to steal one scale from the dragon without killing him. The king assumed the knight would die during this mission, but he didn't and so the prince got to marry the princess...

"Child of man? If thy like my scale so much, I could just gift it to you." These words catapulted you out of your thoughts and for a second you blue screen. Didn't Malleus know what he was asking? That he was swearing he would love you until he dies?

The hope that had glimmers in your heart starts to dim as you realise that only the young people in your hometown used the dragon scale symbolism as a proposal. You remembered the times when during valentine's day everyone was making small scale shaped charms to give to their lover, after all the story claimed that the princess tripped over both her feet as she saw her knight with the gift and exclaimed she would love him forever.

To think that cheesy love tale would become such a giant part of your country's tradition.

You look towards the floor mildly disappointed. "Its fine, Mal." You mutter trying not to be too sad about the fact that the fae prince didn't ask you out. Oh, silly heart please stop beating so fast, you think to yourself, gazing into Malleus eyes, who looks kinda disappointed.

"Is my scale that unsightly to you that you don't want it as a gift?" He looked so sad, so you felt bad for chuckling. "No, I would love to take it, it just has a different meaning to me." You look to the side, your cheeks going red.

"Gifting someone a "dragon scale" means "I want to stay with you forever" where I am from." You expect Malleus to retract his hand that still holds the scale towards you, but he doesn't only softly humming.

"I know that, child of man. Lilia told me about that costum after you told him."

You look at Malleus in disbelief before moving your hand closer to the scale in his hand, before taking it. "Malleus? Is it alright if I tell you my answer for this tomorrow? I kinda need to prepare something."

Malleus looks at you suprised and kinda baffled, simply because you don't want him to have to go home empty handed you give him a kiss on the cheek with a soft smile, returning to Ramshackle.

"Hmm, a yes was always said with something with the same colour as my eyes." Carefully you created two necklaces out of everything you could find, now it kinda looked like a friendship token that you could connect only that Malleus would have his decorated with a gem/stone in the colour of your eyes and you would carry the scale.

"Hmm, I wish it was already tomorrow so I could give this to him." You mutter, before drifting to sleep, the scale necklace resting around your neck.

[verecunda]

I personally see that "torture" conversation again as gaslighting from Annatars side, to be honest. Because (I double checked again to make sure i am not mistaken) "Never in Tolkien's lore does Morgoth torture Sauron. Some moments could imply such an act, such as in The Silmarillion where it is mentioned that Morgoth would have, if victorious, destroyed even the beings that followed him" - So to me it has that even ... Crueler twist of Annatar just trying to gaslight Celebrimbor again. Maybe that is just me though! And maybe in the series Morgoth really did unimaginable to Mairon. WHO KNOWS

Hi, Anon! This got long-winded, so bear with me here. XD

That is certainly a viable reading of the scene, and I definitely think we should never take Sauron at his word because, well, he’s Sauron. But honestly, I think it’s much more interesting, much more horrifying, if he is being honest here.

First, to get the lore stuff out of the way: agreed, nowhere in the books are we told Morgoth ever tortured him. But at the same time, we’re never told he didn’t. Sauron was obviously his most valuable and trusted servant, but he still was that - a servant, an underling, subject to his master’s caprices. And we don’t have any scenes of them interacting directly that allow us to gauge their relationship; we just have a handful of references that can be extrapolated in multiple ways. (For full disclosure: I’m an enthusiastic Angbang shipper, and I tend to view their relationship as more or less positive, one of the only good things they have going for them, but I try to keep an open mind on what canon does/doesn’t tell me.)

Most notably, take the scene where Sauron is defeated by Lúthien and Huan. She tells him she’ll send his spirit back to Angband : “There everlastingly thy naked self shall endure the torment of his scorn, pierced by his eyes.” Whereupon Sauron flees, and we hear nothing more of him till after the War of Wrath. We don’t know anything that he does in the meantime; we don’t even know if he returns to Morgoth’s service (the Lay of Leithian does suggest it, but the published Silmarillion gives us nothing either way). Whether or not Morgoth would actually punish him for his failure is probably beside the point: the point is that Sauron clearly believes punishment is a likely outcome. There are other ways you could parse this bit (and I do have Feelings about it!!) but the most obvious reading is that it’s terror of his master’s likely response that sends Sauron into hiding. So overall, it’s an ambiguous scenario, but there is certainly room to interpret a darker take on their relationship, and even allowing for deliberate ambiguity, it does seem to me that the show creators have chosen to explore that darker take.

To return to this particular scene, I don’t think he’s trying to deceive Celebrimbor any more - now that his true identity is revealed, outright deception is no longer going to work, because why would Celebrimbor believe anything else he says? Better to reel him back in with the truth. In that scene, I think Sauron is actually trying to make him understand his grand vision for the “healing” of Middle-earth. We already know he believes that's what he's doing. I don’t think he views Celebrimbor as an equal, no way, but I think he does consider that Celebrimbor’s ambitions chime with his own.

But crucially, his failure here is that in baring his soul and talking about the genuine suffering he’s gone through, he inadvertently reveals just how warped and ultimately irredeemable his own mindset has become. We actually saw this first with Galadriel at the end of s1: Sauron reveals his relief at Morgoth’s defeat, his feeling that a “great, clenched fist” had been released from about his neck - yet just a couple of minutes after that, he repels her because he admits that he sees saving Middle-earth and ruling it as the same thing.

It’s the same in the tower scene. Revealing his torture by Morgoth does engage Celebrimbor’s sympathy, but he loses it almost at once when he starts talking about his pain being a triumph of his own willpower, then especially when he breaks out all the textbook abuser lines about how Celebrimbor has “forced” him to hurt and deceive him. I don't think he would have said all that if he was just lying. All that self-justification strikes me as the response of someone who has suffered, but has never found a healthy way to process any of it, and who has ultimately gone on to continue the cycle of abuse. And when Celebrimbor demolishes all these self-justifications - “You can deceive even yourself” - I think Sauron's expression there speaks volumes. That’s the look of a Maia who has just been hit where it hurts, because rather than being taken in, Celebrimbor has just confronted him with exactly how damaged and fucked up he really is.

[fizzy0bloom]

s2ep9 sucks ass here's me tring to fix it :

just changing points i don't feel like doing a script :

1- blitzo doesn't apologies to random people like martha just peole who he knew befre like moxxie, millie, octavia and some of his exes

2- verosika doesn't make the party she was invited like stolas think of it like one of those big influential celebrity and political demons thing

3- now this really depends on how you see stolas but he either realize his doings or he's still the toxic villain he is

4-verosika meets him and talk about blitz and she confess how weird she acted before and how she moved on (i don't think it's uncommon for exes to meet randomly and fight i can't emphasize how her and blitz were toxic in this relationship and not just make her this obsessive ex they made her to be)

5-blitz might have done wrong to some of his exes but not to the degree of stolas

6-blitz crashes this part to finally tell stolas everything he has done to him and not apologizing this ends very bad as you can imagine

7-blitz and verosika have a heart to heart giving us how they treated each other and finally clean things

they might forgive and forget or not but anything is better then they way thy made him and fizz talk again

8- verosika looks at stolas and since she doesnt know him well and with the way blitz reacted she tells blitzo to work on himself after all this and focus on his family and to stop this dating cycle for all good

9- again idk what version of stolas you like but he ends up return home and think about everything

+ here's a drawing i made of them listing to stolas mental gymnastics

yeah i redesigned blitz here i hate how he looks

sorry for the spelling mistakes btw

[beeliiii]

Name Upon Thy Flesh

Luke Skywalker x Reader

Summary: Rescuing Han turns out a little different.

Warnings: Slavery, descriptions of surgery

A/N: I wrote this yesterday, didn’t check for mistakes because quite frankly I don’t have time to write and check for things. There’s some inconsistences, I’m aware of that. But also I’m just a tad too lazy to try and rework those things into where they need to be, I don’t think it matters too much. I highly doubt this is going to get a lot of attention anyways so who really cares??? Also!! I wrote this with Amavikka culture, Im not fully aware of all the nuances but I took inspo from Jackdaw_Kraai and their take on it. However, I’m expanding on the pantheon of deities so just bear with me whilst I figure it out. Pls and thank you. I also never claim the writing to be good, not your style? Don’t read it. I do not need to be told you didn’t like the story.

WC: 12,135. Incomplete

The planning room is a rather droll space, in Luke’s humble opinion. He isn’t a master of interior design by any means, but between the durasteel colored everything and the uncomfortable, deceptively padded swivel chairs, he thinks he might have a chance. Leia is at the front of the room, she’s got a board full of ideas and key points, Chewie sits across the table from Luke, his eyes trained on the board. They’re going to get Han. It was inevitable, and it’s been a long time coming.

There’s two resolute factors in the plan; They’re going to Tatooine, and they’re going to infiltrate Jabba’s palace. Luke hates thinking about that damned palace. Rounded and tall, it blends well with the desert, belonging, he would say. The desert is cruel, and so is Jabba’s palace. Everyone knows that slaves go there and never return. For Jabba never traded slaves when he wished to acquire a new one, he simply just killed the previous one when the replacement arrived.

Slave life at Jabba’s palace, from what Luke had seen and heard, was truly horrendous. Before the rebellion, before the lightsabers and the family drama that tore the galaxy apart, Luke had been a runner. A dangerous job, but one he was well suited for. Every other week there’d be a job, a bag of credits and a list of names. Then the following week it’d be quick terror, decisive victories, emergency surgeries and bated breath to see if it would be a success. Luke, as a runner, as the first freeborn of his family, knew intimately what slavery on Tatooine was like. Even though he had never experienced slavery, and hopefully never would, what he saw during his work was enough to understand the true atrocities committed against innocent people.

Sneaking into Jabba’s palace was the easy part, it was the getting out that would be difficult. They were lucky that Luke had knowledge of the palace, of Tatooine, and how everything would work. It was lucky, indeed, that Luke was there to help run this particular flight.

“There’s someone I know who will help us.”

That brought a flurry of emotions to the surface for him. You. You were on Tatooine, left behind in his haste for revenge. Luke had bid his time, waiting until it was right to come find you again. Whisk you off the godforsaken planet and to the rebellion. You’d be better off with them, or simply away from Tatooine. There were many occasions where you had run a flight together. Often working as a team to help the slaves escape. You were good with the surgeries and healing, a gift from your patrons.

The time was right, Luke could feel it, he could finally have you with him. Could slip a ring around your finger and mark your face with his blood, pledge his love and loyalty to you in the names of the desert and the storm. Luke had waited, and now it was time.

Leia raised a brow at him, “Who?”

Luke let himself grin a little wider, “A girl who also knows Jabba’s palace well. She’s an excellent medic.”

“A medic?”

“Yeah, she’s the best out of us all. I’d trust her to slice me open with a kitchen knife if that’s what was available.”

Leia looked skeptical, but she didn’t say no either.

“She’ll be able to help us get Han?”

“Absolutely. She’s always willing to help.”

“Would she help the rebellion?”

“In a heartbeat.”

Leia seemed satisfied about that, nodding as she turned to write in another factor on the board: Luke’s mystery medic. Luke could see it now, the door opening, your face, pissy because he had left. He’d get on his knees, beg forgiveness and he really hoped you would forgive him because he wanted everything to do with you. He knew it, deep within himself, that he could not leave without you again.

“Where do we locate her?”

“She and her family live up in Mos Eisley, it’s not terribly out of the way, maybe an hour detour at most.”

“That’s doable then, besides, a good medic will certainly be a valuable asset.”

“Agreed.”

Luke didn’t tell them about his true connection with you, he feared that if he did it’d be dismissed because of his feelings. He wasn’t lying about your medical skills though, only the best of the medical droids could do it like you did, and even then it seemed like your hands were guided by divine energy to heal. Your patron's gift, that’s what you told him long, long ago.

He knew about patrons' gifts as well, for he had them too. Desert and storm, they went hand in hand, and Luke was their chosen champion. At least that’s what everyone seemed to say, you included. You were a champion yourself, champion of the three moons, you covered three different sectors. The spirit, the healing, the oasis. Your three domains. There were other champions out there, but who Luke didn’t know. Someday he would, for someday they’d all be called together.

Part of him feared that you had moved on without him though. That you had decided to continue on without him, maybe you’d fallen in love with somebody else. It would break his heart if that happened, but he’d also understand. You had been left behind and there was no guarantee that Luke would come back, the only thing you did have was your faith in him. He hoped he still had that faith.

By the end of the day they had their plan sorted out. It was risky, but it never wasn’t going to be risky. It relied a lot on luck, assumptions, and counting on the low intelligence level Jabba’s palace seemed to gather. Luke hoped that this would be a successful run, hoped that the plan would work because if it were up to him he’d go alone or with you. He wouldn’t take Leia, or Chewie, just him and his tool kit. Of course he couldn’t exactly say that to Leia and Chewie though.

They’d insisted on coming, and they’d insisted on making the plan too. Luke knew that no matter how much experience he had with freeing people from Jabba directly that the pair wouldn’t listen. That in itself was frustrating, knowing that they didn’t think he was good enough to make a plan like theirs, and knowing that his opinion would be discarded.

He had tried multiple times throughout the entire planning session to try and give input, but they always had something to say about it. No matter that Luke had nearly routinely snuck into the palace, they wanted to do things their way. The outsider way. Luke wished that they’d listen to him, the actual Tatooinian native, rather than apply the familiarities they had to something they were wholly unfamiliar with. Leia and Chewie, in their stubbornness to rescue Han, would not listen to reason beyond themselves.

Luke could only see that they survived, even if the plan was so stupid a slave child would see right through it and circle the problems in blood so bright it couldn’t be avoided. It would be good to have you by his side, knowing you could (probably) fix them up whenever things (undoubtedly would) go wrong. He just wanted your presence mingling in his again.

They would leave in two days.

*****

Two days passed swiftly, and before Luke knew it they were boarding the falcon to head over to Tatooine. He had packed his desert clothes, and anything else they needed would be found on the planet itself. It had been four years since he last stepped foot on the planet, four years since he lost his family, his home. Four years since he joined the rebellion and blew up the death star. It was a little crazy to Luke how much could change in just a handful of years.

He had missed it in a way. He supposed that after nineteen years of living on the planet, raised there his whole life, intimately connected with the desert and the storms, that he had a right to miss it. He didn’t miss the lack of diversity, or the slavery, nor did he miss the violence and general disgust for a good portion of the population. But he missed the warmth of the desert and her sands, he missed the dry breeze and the canyon racing, hunting anoobas and hearing the recently freed ring the Bells of Kashyyyk before they went off planet to better lives.

He sat in the back with Leia, who was running the plan over and over to herself in her mind. Luke really wished she would have taken his suggestions. She didn’t know what the palace was like, the horrors she would face and the way things worked. She’d be waltzing in with a confidence she did not have the right to possess, and that made Luke worried. If they had done things his way, the Tatooinian way, it’d be different, and he wouldn’t be nearly as anxious as he was now.

“Luke, do you think this will work?”

He looked at her, cracking his eyes open to find her seated on the other side of the booth. She was a bit paler than usual, her knuckles white as she balled them into fists, her eyes trained on the sabacc table in front of her. Reassurance, she was looking for reassurance. Asking if the plan Luke had tried to tell wasn’t the best would work.

“I think if we try we have a shot.”

He wouldn’t say yes because it’s Jabba’s Palace and nothing ever really went according to plan when it came to that place. They had a plan made by outsiders and it showed, but then at the same time they refused to listen to him and his knowledge. They wanted him because he knew the layout of the palace, but nothing else beside brute strength.

She frowned, lips thinning as she clearly tried to work through something in her mind. Luke didn’t care what, he didn’t ask either.

“I really want, no, need this to work.”

Luke softened, just a little bit. He knew she loved Han, that Han loved her back. Love made people crazy, and he was no exception to that either. Luke knew that if something happened to you he’d also go a little haywire, and for the past year Leia had been incomprehensibly patient about rescuing Han. Luke could give her that much at least.

“I know.”

They didn’t say anything else, instead opting to shut their eyes and tip their heads back as Chewie piloted up front. Lando was waiting for them on Tatooine, having infiltrated it a month or so back so he could glean information and pass it on to them about Jabba and his inner workings. Luke really hoped all of this would pay off in the end.

It was only when they came close to landing did Luke start to get antsy. He wanted to find you desperately, to kiss you and hug you, breathe in the scent of you and feel your being beside his own. There was always something soothing when it came to you, like water, he supposed. Refreshing and necessary for survival. Leia seemed to pick up on his anticipation, her hand coming to rest on his arm in an effort to help ground him. He shot her a quick smile, grateful. Soon, he told himself, soon.

They landed in Mos Eisley, although it was just temporary for Luke to go get you. He left quickly, hood up so he wouldn’t be recognized. The bounties, last time Luke had checked, had not ceased, and only increased in their worth. Darth Vader’s especially. Luke tried not too hard to think of his father, not here, not now. There was a mission at hand, and although he had made peace with Vader being his father, he still wholeheartedly believed Anakin Skywalker had not ceased from him fully. If Anakin were truly dead, then the bounty wouldn’t read alive and unharmed.

He wove through familiar streets, walked down shortcuts and felt his heart racing the closer and closer he got to your door. Your home, a white apartment in a structure that made little sense, came into view twenty minutes after he landed. It was located on the third floor, accessible through a staircase outside of the building; he truly didn’t know how to describe it. Only that the windows weren’t uniform, there were no true levels to the building, and it was more like a bunch of apartments that didn’t belong together had been mushed together to create a building.

Soon enough he was in front of your door, but when it swung open it was to a face he was unfamiliar with. A young human woman, her hair covered in a shawl that covered her neck and shoulders, a plain white dress that covered the rest of her body. Luke could hear a baby crying in the back and something cooking on the stove.

“Can I help you?”

Huttese, she was trying to gauge whether he was from Tatooine or not.

“I’m looking for a girl, she’s a healer and she lived here at least four years ago, with her family?”

The woman's eyes widened before pity overtook her face, “You didn’t know?”

Dread began to squirm into wakefulness, deep in his stomach, slowly creeping up, “I’ve been offworld for four years, the-the empire took me, I’ve just managed to return to Tatooine.”

He watched her brows furrow, grief starting to cloud her face as she looked at him longer the more that he spoke, “Her father worked for the empire, her mother, she uhm, she made pottery. The girl I’m looking for, she was-she-”

“She was taken by the Hutts.”

It was like an anvil had dropped on his head and crushed his heart in the process. You. Taken by the Hutts. Enslaved. Slave. You. No. He couldn’t bear it, but the force rang with truth, terrible, terrible truth. Just like when Vader revealed his truth to Luke, this one left him with an urge to throw himself down the tallest ledge he could find. You had been enslaved. After twelve generations of your family’s freedom, you were enslaved.

“When?”

“I was told around two years ago now. Her father, he was killed, he was on the death star or whatever it is they’ve called it and you know how it goes here. They see someone of value, they hit the family with extra taxes and since they lost the empirical paycheck they couldn’t afford to pay. So they took the girl first. The next month the second sister, the third month the oldest brother. The fourth month the little brother. The fifth month the final child. The sixth month they took the mother. I heard she didn’t last long. From what I know the eldest was sold to Jabba himself.”

Oh force, oh kriffing force. Your whole family, enslaved, your parents dead, all because he blew up the goddamn death star. The death star that he blew up. Your father had been an engineer, and he worked for the empire to bring in the income your family so desperately needed. Luke had blown him up. He had blown his future father-in-law up. Was there anything he could do to recover from that? He wondered if you hated him now.

If you resented his every fiber of being because he had left you, then he had gone and killed your father, which then led up to you getting enslaved. Would you pin that on Luke? He wouldn’t blame you if you did.

“You knew her?”

“We were going to be married. We were going to be married three months after I was taken. I came back to get her, to marry her.”

“I’m so, so sorry.”

He turned, he didn’t know what else to do but turn as the woman watched him go. She knew, he could tell. She knew what it was to lose someone to the Hutts, she knew how it felt to be ripped away from family for the sake of someone else's greed. Luke returned to the ship in a daze, stumbling in as Leia and Chewie perked up, only to be confused when he returned alone.

“Luke? Where’s the medic?”

Oh he couldn’t breathe. You had been taken by the Hutts, enslaved and had who knows what done to you. His girl, enslaved after twelve generations of freedom.

“Luke?”

He was going to be sick, something he absentmindedly thought as nausea rapidly shot its way through his system. Slavery. You were in it, forced, taken. Taken to Jabba, and really, how long could you survive in the palace with a creature like that? If you were even alive, would your freedom mean anything to you at that point? Luke didn’t know, he didn’t-

Luke threw up. Barely managing to grab hold of a bin as Leia scrambled over to him, Chewie hot on her heels. She cried out softly, reaching for him as he vomited whatever he had in his stomach. He had caused this, he had put you in chains, bound you, practically ended your life the moment he blew up the death star. Your father had been on that cursed thing. He’d been on it so he could give you a chance at life.

“Luke what happened?”

He wiped his mouth, trying to keep himself contained even when it felt like his body might shake apart, “I-she, oh force Leia, they took her.”

Her eyes narrowed down at him, “Who took her?”

“Jabba, he took her, enslaved her. Oh gods and it’s my fault, it’s my kriffing fault she’s enslaved now.”

He hurled again, thinking of you with a detonator in your body, somewhere you couldn’t see, couldn’t reach. He thought of you on that podium, stripped down to nothing but shackles as people bid on you. He didn’t even want to think about all the things that they could’ve done to you in the last two years. A slave girl at Jabba’s palace. Everyone knew what kind of fate that was. And it had befallen to you.

“How is that your fault?”

“Her father, he was an engineer working for the empire, he was on the death star when it blew up. He died and they lost significant income, the Hutts when they see someone they want usually have means of getting them. They raised her family's taxes with no warning, and with the significant lack of income they couldn’t afford to pay, so they sold her family, one member per month, until her mother was sold, and her mothers dead now too. I did this, I am responsible.”

Maybe it hadn’t hit Luke up until then that it wasn’t just blowing up the empire's super weapon. There had been people aboard that thing. Millions of people, and Luke blew them up without hesitation. Luke had murdered mercilessly to do what he needed to do, for what he believed was right. Vader murdered mercilessly to do what he needed to do, for what he believed was right. All this time Luke had been denying his similarities to his father, but when it was all laid out at his feet he couldn’t look away or run from the truth. There was, without a doubt, that Luke Skywalker was Vaders’ son, and the death star was the evidence to convict him.

There was water being pressed to his hands, and then he was looking at Leia. Her eyes were soft but she was also wearing her face of no-nonsense. Luke knew he needed to get it together, do what he could. They needed to rescue Han, get off the planet, and get to where they needed to go. He knew it, he understood it, but to know what had happened during his absence, it was too much.

“You didn’t know her father was on board, right?”

He shook his head. He didn’t, he really didn’t. He would’ve warned the man somehow, someway, of what was to transpire if he had known. He could’ve saved him if he had been aware. Why had he not considered that possibility either? Why had Luke not thought that maybe, just maybe, they had assigned him to the death star for engineering purposes?

“You knew what the death star was capable of doing, you knew what it did to my planet. You knew it needed to go, and that there was no other option. There was no time for a decision like that.”

Leia was right and Luke knew it but it still hurt and the guilt still racked him like he was being skinned.

“The only thing you can do for her now is to try and find her, free her, save what remains of her family if you can.”

He inhaled sharply, shutting his eyes as he did before opening them and nodding at her, “Alright, yes. We need to go then, Han and Lando are waiting for us.”

She smiled, a little one, but it was enough, “Maybe your medic is in there too.”

It was a very slim chance, but Luke couldn’t afford to think you were dead either. If there was a chance, even a small one, he would take it. He’d submit to your wrath, go through every punishment you could think of, he’d grovel and cry for forgiveness just to atone even a fraction for the grief he dealt you. He’d do it all for you, he wouldn’t complain, he’d bear it. If you wanted him gone after you’d collected your family and gone off planet then he’d do just that. He’d delete your commlink and try to forget your face, erase the sound of your laughter from his head. If you wanted that, he’d make it happen.

The rest seemed to blur together for him. Journeying to Anchorhead, securing their parking location for at least two weeks with coverage, and then renting a ship to go to Jabba’s palace. It was still daylight, and even though it was part of the plan it made Luke jittery. He had never, not once, snuck into Jabba’s during the day. Except they weren’t sneaking, they were practically smuggling themselves in. Leia disguised as a bounty hunter, Boushh, with Chewie as her captive. It all seemed so bizarre to Luke, to have them infiltrate Jabba’s in such a way.

When nightfall came Luke knew then that he had to move. He needed to get Han, Chewie, Leia, and Lando out of there before the sun rose or else they would be caught, sentenced to slavery, and either made to work under Jabba or killed. Neither was a desirable choice in Lukes’ opinion. But nobody seemed to ask for that either. He looked at the droids behind him, C3-PO and R2-D2, loyal until the end, they’d simply have to wait outside until Luke could give them a signal, or an alert that things had gone terribly wrong and to go get the ship asap.

Then he went in on his own. Over the four years that Luke was a runner he had become far more familiar with Jabba’s palace than most ever were. He knew secret entrances and pathways, disguised by the runners who built the palace to help their enslaved Siblings escape. Those people, Luke thought graciously, were some of the most important to ever grace the planet. Flight paths in Jabba’s palace that Jabba was completely unaware of. It was almost comical.

It was easy to slip into Jabba’s palace in the dead of night, his feet silent as he walked through the cooled halls, reaching out to sense for guards or stragglers who were passing by. None to be found though, thankfully, as he walked towards the throne room where the massive slug resided. On first glimpse inside of the room he saw bodies lazily strewn about, snores filling the air with the scent of smoked spice in the air and alcohol spilled.

He stopped short in the doorway. You were here. Here in this very room, alive, breathing, on the cusp of sleep but not quite there. Alive. You had somehow survived two years of enslavement under Jabba, and even though he could tell you were weakened you were still you. He felt it, he knew it, and his heart raced as he stepped into the room. Leia was on the other end of the room, silently going around to press buttons and for a minute Luke was dumbfounded by her stupidity.

Jabba was literally right kriffing there behind the curtain, if the thing holding up Hans’ slab of carbonite fell the whole room would wake. There was no time to tell her that though, so Luke reached out with the force as the clasps released, stopping it from clanging to the ground. Leia whipped around, eyes wide while Luke hovered Han down gently so it wouldn’t startle anybody. He pressed a finger to his lips, shushing her questions that practically burned her tongue.

With a wave of his hand the thing started to dethaw Han, louder than Luke would’ve liked but nonetheless doing what it needed to do. The only thing left would be to free you. Luke reached out, not with the force but rather the storm, letting it nudge you into wakefulness. As Han’s chest came into view he heard the faintest rustle of a chain, and then the curtain wiggled to the side, and out you stepped.

You stood in all your glory as Jabba’s long term pet. A golden collar around your neck with a matching chain vanishing into the curtain, undoubtedly to where Jabba was. He had you dressed in a black number, it was sheer and left little to the imagination, but you looked healthy. As healthy as a slave could be, he supposed. It seemed that you had secured a spot as one of Jabba’s favorites, and held onto that title too. You stood, staring at him slack jawed.

He raised a finger to his lips, and you shut your mouth, eyes darting to the scene behind you. Han was almost free, which meant they didn’t have a whole lot of time left to go get Lando and Chewie before making a run for it. Then, right as things seemed to be going well, the curtains slid open, and there sat Jabba, wide awake, just as Han stumbled free from the carbonite.

“So you’ve come to steal my possessions, hmm?”

A chill ran down Luke’s back as blood drained from your face. Jabba was awake, how Luke didn’t know, but he was awake and staring at Luke, dead in the eye. Anger, roiling and bright began to churn through him. He felt the force stirring, rising to his emotions, heeding his call. This thing in front of him had taken you, shackled you and made you nothing more than a tool for entertainment, he had made you one of his dancing girls. Luke would not forgive that, he wouldn’t for anybody, but this was personal now. Too personal.

“She was never yours to begin with.”

“The chain in my hand thinks otherwise.”

Leia was staring at him, in her arms Han who was slowly coming to consciousness, still blind and sick from the carbonite freezing. She knew they were in trouble, she knew things were about to hit the wall and that there was very little she could do to stop it, not with Han in his current state.

“This slight against me will not go unpunished. To steal from Jabba, great Jabba, to covet his possessions. This warrants nothing but death, death by the Sarlacc Pit, but before that the little thief must watch that he is not her master. But Jabba is.”

He tugged on your chain and growled at the musicians to start playing. It was too late in the night or too early in the morning, making everyone more than confused when they woke to music and Jabba’s booming voice. Another tug on your chain had you springing into action. Luke watched, because there was nothing he could do, as you twirled and used the chain for a prop. You moved sensually, in a way that Jabba certainly took entertainment to, and in a way you knew would please him for it punished Luke to see you so degraded.

In the quiet of his pockets he instructed the droids to get ready for a flight in the morning, but to be discreet about it. The Sarlacc Pit. The closest one was about 20 clicks from Anchorhead, and located in perhaps one of the hardest areas of desert to traverse through. The dunes, tall and ever shifting, the danger moving deep within them rather than above. No water, no life, no nothing. Luke had traveled through it once and swore never again unless absolutely necessary.

He thought of the worms in the Northern Dune Sea. Multiple clicks long, the maw wide enough to swallow a settlement, it was a horrendous beast to encounter. The enemy of the Kryat dragon, he too didn’t feel like running into one of those either, not with the little outsider group he had with him. That was if they escaped in the desert with no ship or speeder to help cart them out. Hopefully, and he really did hope, they weren’t going to be without transportation when they escaped.

He was detained shortly, so were Han and Leia, but thankfully by a familiar face who threw him and Han in with Chewie, Leia on the other hand went elsewhere. Luke fervently hoped that upstairs you were simply made to lay down again and nothing more. He hoped that he didn’t cost you your life with his words from earlier.

“Kid? Is that you?”

Han. He was alive, the blindness slowly starting to fade as he became more aware of his surroundings.

“Han, good to see on your feet again.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t exactly say that, but I’m here, that’s for sure.”

Chewie had already hugged Han within an inch of his life, roaring pitifully as he recounted how terrible the last year without Han had been. Luke reached over, patting Han on the shoulder before taking a seat beside him, “Saw you and Leia had a good reunion until Jabba woke up.”

Han snorted, “Her Highness can occasionally not be a stick in my ass.”

Luke rolled his eyes, leave it to Han and Leia to be the most stable emotionally incompetent couple ever.

“So how are we getting out of here?”

Luke sighed, leaning back against the rather damp wall, “We’re not getting out of Jabba’s palace until he takes us out of here. Lucky for us we’ve got a date with the Sarlacc Pit tomorrow afternoon, so we can escape then.”

“What the hell is a Sarlacc Pit? It better be something nice, like a lagoon so I can swim.”

“Oh yeah, totally. Jabba the slave king of Tatooine, the desert planet, is going to take us for a dip in the lagoon we call the Sarlacc Pit. Which totally isn’t just a massive and carnivorous thing that dwells in the ground and takes a thousand years to digest whatever it eats.”

“Kriff I do not remember you being like this, what happened since I got stuck in carbonite?”

By daddy dearest too, Luke thought, although he didn’t voice it aloud. Instead he groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, “A lot and seemingly nothing at all.”

Han looked at him, eyes a little clearer, but Luke didn’t dare look back at Han. What would Han see when he looked at him? Luke Skywalker? Or would he see a little Vader Jr on the rise? Luke didn’t know, he didn’t want to know.

“Clearly, Bespin wasn’t the best move.”

They lapsed into silence, mulling over their situation, and what they were going to do. Luke wasn’t about to get swallowed by the kriffing Sarlacc, not today, not ever. He certainly wasn’t going to let any of his friends get swallowed by it either. They waited for some amount of hours, trying to sleep so they could catch up on energy before Lando came in the morning. By then Han had mostly cleared up, although he would certainly need to rest a little bit after this, and they were ready to go.

“Aright, so uh, Leia and the dancer are still alive, although they’ve been dressed in ah, matching outfits, for Jabba’s entertainment. We’re about to board Jabba’s personal ship, since we’re having a little party today, and then we’ll head over to the Sarlacc Pit, sound good?”

Luke nodded, then frowned a little bit, “Lando, there’s one other thing I need you to get. Think you can manage?”

“I think so, we aren’t due to leave for another hour, what do you need?”

“I need a sharp knife, needle, and thread strong enough to sew skin together.”

“Got it, I know just where to find it. You want me to deliver it to you?”

“Deliver it to the dancer girl, discreetly. If you can’t, then I’ll do.”

“Understood, see you soon.”

“Thank you.”

Han shot him a look, “Why do you need those? You planning a surgery?”

“Yes.”

Han did a double take, all smugness gone as he peered at Luke, “Seriously? On who? And what for?”

“For my girl, she’s a slave which means there’s a detonator somewhere in her body. I’m going to remove it as soon as I can.”

He went silent for a minute as Han digested his words, “She’s usually the one to get the detonators out, I never thought I’d have to see the day I took hers out.”

“Wait, wait, wait, your girl? As in, you two are dating?”

Luke laughed, a humourless thing because how did everything get to this point? He was supposed to marry you after he turned twenty on the tallest dune at sunset when the moons rose and the twin suns began to dip beneath the horizon. He was supposed to go offworld with you, explore the galaxy, make a living by fixing up ships and freeing slaves.

“We met when we were six, at school. We were seated beside each other, and I didn’t know what to do with myself because she was so pretty. Skin like a soft sunset and the kindest eyes. She soothed any ache and pain, no sunburns, heatstroke, she could always find water too. A gift amongst the people, that’s who she was. At fourteen her father let me take her on a date. At eighteen I got to give her a plant, at twenty, well, at twenty we were supposed to be wed.”

Han stares at him, and so does Chewie. There’s a lump in his throat, but crying is a waste of water, so he holds it in. He can cry when he’s not on the desert planet. He hadn’t told anybody about you and the way he loved you, fiercer than fire and steadier than the desert. He loved you, loved you like the galaxy loved her stars.

“You love each other.”

“I don’t know if she loves me anymore. Her father was on the death star, and I’m the reason she got sold into slavery.”

“Because of the death star?”

“No shiny paycheck from the empire combined with the Hutts wanting her in the first place had them raise taxes abruptly for their household. Not enough money to afford the taxes, the Hutts took her and sold her to Jabba.”

“It’s not your fault that her father was in the wrong place at the wrong time, you know that right?”

Luke shrugged, “I don’t know. The least I can do for her is set her free.”

“Well I take it you haven’t had the chance to discuss with her about what happened, so I’d say don’t immediately assume she hates you for the consequences of the empire's actions.”

“They didn’t blow up the death star with everybody on board.”

“No but they did build the damned thing.”

That was true. If they hadn’t built it then it needn’t have been blown up. But they had built it, they had killed Alderran in front of Leia’s face and had been planning on giving so many other planets the same treatment. It was just the consequences of actions. Unfortunate on both ends too.

Lando returned twenty minutes later, passing a simple white clothed package to Luke. In it was the blade, needle, and thread. Luke nodded at him, thankful as he slipped the package into his shirt folds. Then Lando was opening the gates, handcuffing them, and leading them to their impending doom. When they arrived at the ship they found themselves in the belly down below, and with them C3-PO and R2-D2 as well. Perhaps most jarring were the outfits you and Leia had been forced into.

Skimpy things, bras that didn’t fit quite right so both of your breasts had spillage from seemingly every angle, and then the lowest rise of a skirt, if it could even be called that. The waist band matching the top, and then a long strip of cloth on the back, and a narrower strip in the front, covering the bare necessities. At the very least they had given you both boots to wear with the outfits. Even Jabba knew that dancers couldn’t dance if their feet had been burnt.

It was an awful feeling to see the two of you dressed like that. Degraded and sexualized, appealing strictly to the gaze of clients. Luke only hoped that Jabba didn’t rent either of you out on this particular trip. Han seemed to be thinking similarly as he swallowed when he saw the pair of you, his concern leaking steady into the force, Chewies’ as well.

You looked at him when they entered, but Luke couldn’t bring himself to look at you. His shame was too great whenever he saw you. He should have taken you with him when he and Ben left the planet. He should have spared you from such a fate. You wouldn’t be a slave after this day though, Luke would see that through. The ride there was still uncomfortable. Drunkards and drugs running rampant, the music too loud and the space crowded. He spotted the droids running around every now and then, but for the most part they were left alone.

Until, of course, they got to the Sarlacc Pit. After that they, he, Han, and Chewie, were escorted up to the plank where that wretched mouth was waiting. It shrieked, gritty and strained, but loud nonetheless. Han flinched, looking over at Luke with widened eyes, “I was really hoping it would be a lagoon.”

Luke sighed, “You ready?”

“For what?”

“Our escape.”

Luke didn’t offer any more elaboration as he willed the binders to unlock, freeing his hands as his lightsaber flew to his hand. He ignited it, watching the green blade hum to life with satisfaction before moving to cut Han and Chewies’ hands free.

“Secure that ship that’s been riding our side, we’ll use it to escape. I’ll get our girls, and blow a hole in this thing, alright?”

Han nodded, taking the blaster Chewie handed to him before running off as Luke headed down below. The chaos had migrated downstairs by the time Luke got down there. Leia was strangling Jabba, which, excellent, and you were with the droids doing something. Nobody, in the confusion of what was happening, seemed to know what was going on, and that was when Han blew a hole into the side of the ship. Shrieks and screams rang out as the ship tilted, sending multiple occupants sliding down, out of the hole, and into the waiting mouth of the Sarlacc Pit.

Luke was working on very borrowed time it seemed. He shouted, gaining your and the droids attention as he waved wildly, pointing to the side of the ship as Han blew another hole in it. Good going Han, Luke thought wildly when the ship began to pivot. His first priority was severing the chains you and Leia were bound in. The lightsaber made quick work of it, and then his lightsaber made quick work of Jabba, cutting his head off as best as he could, letting the thing gurgle through his wounds.

The droids came then with you in tow, stumbling as dust and debris filled your vision and blocked your path. Luke got hold of you though, his arm gripping your wrist tightly as he cut his way through the ship. R2-D2, for one, seemed intent on causing as much chaos as he possibly could with C3-PO complaining the whole way through. Leia wasn’t far ahead of him, her eyes searching for him amongst the crowd. She found him soon enough, you and the droids right behind him. She looked at the stairs, then she looked back at Luke and his little group.

“Luke! There is NO way those droids are making it up here!”

He paused, looked at the stairs, then looked at the droids. Leia wasn’t wrong about that. R2-D2 could definitely go down stairs but up was a different story, and this was not the time to try and figure out if the little droid had some special feature that allowed him to grip stairs and roll his way up. He looked at the stairs, he looked at the droids, then the holes in the wall. Kriff.

Leia was still on the stairs, her mind whirring to try and figure out how they were going to do this. Then she looked at Luke, and he grinned a little sheepishly at her. Her eyes narrowed down at him.

“Luke…”

“Go to Han, tell him to catch us in approximately, uhm, a minute and a half?”

“Are you insane?! Luke!”

“Leia please! Just make sure he catches us.”

“Oh he’s catching you, you and your idiot ass with this idiot plan, because who uses falling out the side of a ship as an escape plan?”

“Leia!”

“I should’ve figured this would come from the guy who threw himself off Cloud City!”

“Leiaaa, please.”

“Ugh, fine.”

She bound upwards as the ship creaked ominously, reminding Luke that he really needed to go. He looked at you, the way you pursed your lips, but there was a familiar determination to your gaze when you looked at the droids then the blown out side of the ship. Luke had sent you a video of the droids when he first got them, detailing what they were and what attributes they had. You had replied later, stating you couldn’t wait to meet them, even though you never did get the chance.

Luke did not ever think your first meeting with the droids would be with you enslaved on the day of his execution that Jabba personally oversaw. In fact, this was probably one of the worst scenarios that could possibly happen, and yet it was happening anyway. Using the force and blind instinct, he made his way to the side of the ship, praying that Han was ready.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much choice in where they got dumped as the ship turned completely on its side, forcefully ejecting you, Luke, C3-PO and R2-D2. You both shrieked as you two went airborne, R2-D2 squealing in turn. The Sarlacc Pit loomed closer, but before you all could get swallowed up Han and the ship swept under you all, catching you before certain doom. Not that it didn’t hurt though, you and Luke both groaned loudly as your bodies hit the ship.

But before any of you could really think of much, there was an ominous cracking sound from above, and then a groan. Large and taking up all the space of your attention, everyone looked up at what remained of Jabba’s party ship, dipping down, bending at the center. Luke stared at it, feeling the pulses of danger in the force get exponentially louder as he watched the ship start to break in half, with him directly under it.

“Haaannn…”

“I’m on it, I’m on it, the kriffing engine isn’t working- Luke! Luke get over here you’re good with the uh-the mechanics shit.”

“Ugh.”

You sat up at the same time as Luke, who hopped up and hurried over to look at whatever Han was looking at, “Oh Han, this is, oh kriff we are not making it to Anchorhead with this. Did someone shoot the damn engine?”

“Uh, yes, actually.”

There was another crack, making you stand and look between it and the Sarlacc Pit below. You’d much rather be crushed to death instantly. The ship jolted, but it wasn’t far enough, perhaps enough to where if you leaped out you’d be able to claw your way to safety through the sand. Another creak had things starting to fall around you and into the sand below.

“Luke, that ship has maybe, max, thirty seconds.”

“‘M tryin’, give me, uhhh, ten seconds.”

The ships’ front was dipping down dangerously low and you knew, you knew that when that thing went the ship you were on now was toast. So either, in the next thirty seconds, you guys moved of your own accord, or the ship above would move you to your graves.

“We’re gonna have to jump.”

Lukes’ head craned upward at the towering ship above you all, ready to crush him and the group. He looked at the droids, the ship, and the engine that in its final moments of heroism, had moved two feet forward.

“Oh force, we're gonna have to jump.”

Leia balked, “Jump? Luke, are you serious? Do you see what I-we are wearing? Also, if we jump this thing is going down too.”

You shook your head, “It’s either jump or crush. Take your pick, if the carbon guy and wookie are respectable they’ll keep your dignity.”

Leia gaped at you, “What about the ship?”

You raised a brow at her, “If you think we have time to argue about this ship, much less save it, then be my guest but personally I’m not doing that.”

At that moment the loudest crack sounded, the ship above jerked, and you knew there was no time.

“Who wants to throw droids?”

They shot you incredulous looks, except for Luke, all stared at you like you had suggested blasphemy. Then the droids began to levitate, and you just knew that had to do with Luke. He had changed, you knew it as soon as you saw him, but he was still Luke, your Luke. The droids went over, and then Han, Leia, Chewie, Lando, and just as the ship above broke completely, you and Luke leaped. The sand shifted underneath the two of you immediately, forcing you two to claw and haul your bodies up until you two were no longer in danger of the pit, or the ship, which had fallen on it.

For a moment you all simply laid there in the burning hot sand on the burning hot heat in the burning hot desert on the burning hot planet with the burning hot twin suns bearing down on you all. You had escaped Jabba, you had actually escaped freaking Jabba the Hutt. Luke was back. Luke. You shot up, a small shriek leaving your lips while Luke shot up at the noise. You shoved him, pushing him back down to the sand as he yelped.

You heard him yelp, an unrestrained giggle leaving him as the others stood and stared, confused as you took a fistful of sand to throw at him.

“You-You-Luke Skywalker, I wake up the morning after you tell me you’ve got two new droids to learn your house burned down, that your family has been burned alive, that you’ve run off with OLD BEN of all people?! Then like two weeks later, still no message of if you were alive or not, then you blow up the kriffing DEATH STAR?! Then, as if it couldn’t get worse, you don’t even send me a message? A measly little ‘Hey I know we were supposed to get married in three months but my life just imploded, I just want to let you know I’m still in love with you’, that would’ve been nice. But no! No! Instead I have to spend the next two years checking the bounty hunter wanted list to make sure your dumb ass wasn’t caught or anything. Not like I could do anything if you were! Because guess where I’ve been? Tatooine! Tatooine! And you’ve been gods knows where, but I wouldn’t know, because YOU NEVER TOLD ME! UGH!”

You threw another fistful of sand at him as he reached for you. Four years of nothing. No word, no knowledge. Any of what you had ended the moment you’d been sold to Jabba, so the only thing you had left was word of mouth, gossip. You knew he had a run in with Vader, that he lost his hand, you knew what he was doing, where he was working. You knew he hadn’t come back for you, so you waited, and waited, and waited. Four years of waiting, and now here he was.

“Well, can I start with saying I’m still in love with you? And that I’m so, so, sorry. I didn’t want to leave you behind, I tried, force, I tried to come get you. I wanted to come back so badly, to hop on my little fighter and drop everything, come back to this forsaken dust ball and take you, marry you. I had my vows written, I’d practically carved them in my skin by the time everything happened. I didn’t-I didn’t know your father was on the death star, if I had known I would have gotten him out, I would’ve saved him. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-

You cut him off, you had to. He had said everything you needed him to say, which meant you could kiss him again. Four years of not kissing him, four years of being torn across the galaxy from each other. You had him back after four years. Of course you were going to kiss him. Plus, he had just freed you from slavery.

His hands came up to rest on your hip and cheek, he didn’t resist, didn’t hesitate. You kissed him and he kissed back like it was second nature. Perhaps it was, and even though four years had passed the memory, the want of each other still remained, thrumming in your bones with tandem. You had loved him since you were a child, and he had been too. A wedding that never came to be, grief, terror, and two totally different paths.

You pulled away first, breathing hard because it had been so long since you had kissed Luke. Since he had truly stolen your breath away again. He looked at you, wide blue eyes like the water so heavily coveted on such a planet. His nose wasn’t quite the same, and there were scars running down the side of his face too. But he was Luke, your greatest love, the one you waited four years for even if two of those years were spent in slavery. He had come back for you.

“You didn’t know, none of us knew until after it had been done. It wasn’t your fault.”

He was silent for a minute, his eyes roving over your face, the way it had changed over the years, the new scars, the curve of your jaw, all of it.

“Let’s get married when this is over, I’ll get you a plant again, I still remember my vows.”

You laughed because if you didn’t you’d cry, after all of it, everything that had happened, Luke still wanted to marry you.

“Of course we can get married when this is over.”

He smiled, wide and endearing, the one you dreamed about to help keep you sane. Then something flashed across his face, fleeting but there, you wouldn’t miss it. You frowned a little bit, reaching up to cup his cheek.

“I know nothings’ really fine right now, but will you tell me what bothers you later?”

“I will. I promise, but also, I got something for our run, for you.”

He pulled the white package from his chest, making your eyes light up. You knew what this package was, what it contained. You knew the pain that would come with it, but you didn’t care either.

“We need to remove it here then, I’m still in range of the detonator switch, and if that rubble shifts on it…”

Luke knew what you were saying, and considering how the ship, now laying in a pile of nothing on the Sarlacc Pit, that possibility wasn’t exactly unlikely. It needed to come out, and it needed to come out now. The group had turned away the moment they heard you yelling at Luke, respectively turning their backs and making small conversation to tune out the murmurs between the two of you. Leia and Han had their moment earlier, now it was time for you and Luke. It was only when they heard you two moving again did they turn around.

There you two stood, side by side, Luke now missing a layer to his shirt so you could wear it, covering yourself at least a little bit. Leia shot Han a pointed look, but he merely gave her a look back. She rolled her eyes, sighing before looking at Luke, “So, this is the medic?”

Luke grinned at her, “Actually, she’s my fiance, she has been since we were eighteen. She was supposed to be my wife about three years ago, but that clearly didn’t happen.”

You waved a little, introducing yourself to the two you didn’t get a chance to interact with earlier. Han, on his part, looked rather smug at the fiance reveal. Everyone else was simply staring, likely because they didn’t even know of your existence. You knew with all of Luke’s bounties that anything tied to him would get found and extorted as well. It was part of the reason Jabba took you specifically. They knew what you meant to Luke, knew when he eventually found out it’d hurt him terribly. There was no way it wouldn’t, but it went beyond his sweetheart turned into a slave. It was the history there too. Luke was the first freeborn from twelve generations, a direct mirror to your lineage of twelve free generations.

Lando, ever the charmer, sprung into action. He crossed the sand quickly, sweeping your hand into his and pressing a kiss there, “It is good to properly meet you Lady Skywalker.”

Luke laughed as you grinned at him. Lando had, during his short time at Jabba’s Palace, been one of the nicer guards who slipped extra slices of bread or offered salves to put on your feet after hours of performing. He had been a little bit of heaven in such a horrid place. You were grateful to him, even his endless charm. Lady Skywalker. You supposed that was you, or who you were meant to be. Three years ago you would’ve been recognized as Lady Skywalker in the eyes of those most important to you and Luke.

“Lady Skywalker.”

You tested the name on your tongue, finding the weight of it comforting. Luke, it seemed, very much liked the sound of that. Cheeks flushing as you spoke it aloud. That made Han and Chewie laugh, even though it furthered his embarrassment. Lady Skywalker, that was who you were.

“Lando Clarissian.”

The rest had approached finally, letting you study them now that the threat of a dreadfully long and painful death no longer loomed over your heads. Handsome and tall, minus Leia, these were the people who Luke trusted to have his back for the past four years. People who you had no idea about, who they were, what they did. They were part of Luke’s new life, and you were his sole tether to the past.

Han, Chewie, Leia, Lando, Luke, and you. All of you were now in the desert, stuck and clad in possibly the worst wardrobe ever for a walk through Tatooine. You also still had an active bomb implanted in your skin somewhere. Something you were reminded of when the rubble shifted again behind you. You glanced at Luke and looked at the suns hanging in the sky, sunset wouldn’t be too far off, and you needed this thing out.

He looked at you, “We need to hurry.”

You nodded, steeling yourself. You had gone through worse, so much worse. Getting the detonator out would be a blessing, a real one. No more threats of getting blown up and dying painfully slow.

“Do you know where it is?”

“Third rib on the left.”

Leia furrowed her brow, “What is it?”

You looked at her, letting your fingers come to press where it was, “My detonator. You’re lucky you weren’t there long enough to receive one, but here on Tatooine they implant little bombs into us slaves so that way, no matter what, we’re always at the mercy of the masters. We get out of a certain range? They blow up. We displease them too badly? They blow us up. They want some entertainment? They line us up and then blow us up one by one. So, naturally, the only thing we can do is remove them.”

“You’re going to perform surgery here? Right now then?”

Luke looked at you, shrugging a bit, “We’ve removed detonators in worse places.”

That had them exchanging a few looks. Luke hadn’t told them about being a runner, which you expected out of him, and now was the time to tell. You nudged him, “Talk while you cut.”

“Alright. Well uh, gather around I guess.”

You laid down, settling yourself in the sand as Luke settled to your side, lifting the shirt enough to show the area. He pressed, feeling the faint lump where you directed him to. That detonator, when it was first inserted, felt like your life had well and truly ended. Now Luke was removing it in the desert he loved so much. Freeing his love from the last bits of her slavery.

“We were runners.”

He laid out the items, holding the blade up to inspection as the four others sat around them. It was hot, yes, but it was what they had, and you needed the detonator out before you went anywhere. He sighed, looking at you as you laid on the ground, body turned towards him. You were shaking, just a little tremor, but enough for him to notice. He let his free hand, the fake one, settle on your arm, running his thumb across your skin.

“I’m about to start.”

“Alright.”

He let his hand drift down, knife pressing above your skin. Luke hesitated, he hated himself for it. But he hesitated. He didn’t want to cut you open, see your opened flesh and that little thing that could cause so much damage. You were going to be in pain, lots of it, and there was nothing you could do.

“Luke. You’re a runner, and this is my flight. Now get the damn explosive, out of my ribs.”

“Try not to flinch.”

“Try not to cry, we can’t waste water right now.”

He took a deep breath, nodding as he pressed in. Your skin opened easy, parting like tough butter under the knife as he cut over the detonator. You didn’t flinch, forcing yourself not to tense up, but he did hear your muffled shriek as he opened you up.

“Runners are people who free slaves illegally. We have routes, and everytime we take a job to free the slaves, we call it a flight. It’s been going on for thousands of years, the knowledge passed down from each generation. The masters don’t know about it, well, they do. But they don’t know our language, our cultures, our ways. They might know an inkling of the flight paths, but they don’t know about the passageways we’ve built into their buildings, the tunnels right under their feet.”

There, he could see the bone, see that stupid red light and hear your shuddery breathing. You were both lucky it wasn’t someplace like the base of your skull or lodged into your spine.

“I see it. You’re almost there.”

You groaned, remaining still but too focused on the pain to properly answer him.

“We learned how to cut detonators from people when we were younger. I learned from my Aunt Beru, she was always good at getting them out. She never ran any flights, neither did my Uncle Owen, but he wasn’t unwilling to hide a flight in our home if we really needed it. There were no teachers out there with us in the field, mostly because we had been taught all the skills we would need by the time we turned ten. We were more than ready when we turned fourteen, and yet we weren’t ready or prepared at all. It’s different, being in the thick of it.”

He didn’t have tweezers, but he did have the force, so he gave it a tug as you gasped sharply. He could feel your pain through the force, clouding your head and letting you fall to primal instinct. There was also another issue. Your skin was starting to close up in front of his very eyes, restitching itself, knitting together. He had forgotten, for a moment, what it was to be a champion like you.

“Shit, shit.”

They looked and clearly they had seen what your body was doing. Han peered up at Luke, “Is this a force thing?”

Luke shook his head, ignoring Han’s question momentarily as he turned to you, letting his free hand stroke your cheek, “My love, you are blessed by the three moons, they heal you, heal us. They are closing the incision too fast, I must open your flesh again.”

It had been too long since he had last spoken the language he found the most comfort in. The language he had written his vows in, the language his father would’ve grown up speaking. A language Vader purposely forgot. He let it come back to him like how he fell into kissing you again. The language was with him always, but it was not a language for those outside of the Amavikka culture. You had grown up with the culture, just like him. Learning Huttese, Amatakka, then Basic.

“How is she-?”

“Moons blessed, that’s how. My love, this is going to be quick, this is going to be painful. This isn’t going to be pretty, hold her leg down, she’s in too much pain to think rationally, someone else keep her shoulder down.”

Han moved to your shoulder as Leia to your legs, they both placed their hands on you, keeping you steady as Luke grit his teeth before pushing the knife down. He called on the force, helping him take hold of the detonator, and then yanking. You practically howled, the meat of your body clinging desperately to the intrusion, not slipping out like many of them were supposed to, but clinging, like your body was in the process of absorbing the damn thing. Knowing what your body was capable of, it could very well be true.

There was blood on him, your blood, it splattered as you shook, body curling in an attempt to shy away from the source of the pain. He wanted so desperately to soothe you, to take this pain from you and rid you of it. But he was the one performing surgery on you. For years he had watched you on the opposite end of the knife, murmuring soothing words that seemed to relax and numb them as you parted their flesh. You had made it not so bad, but when it came to yourself it seemed the pain was worse than anybody else's.

He tugged harder, ignoring the little splatter of blood that came from it as the detonator started to give way. It was coming closer, closer, you were so close to being free. A little more, a harsher tug, he saw the meat pull off more, the blood running down, smearing across his hand as he desperately cut you off the detonator. You were trying very, very hard not to cry. Screwing your eyes shut tight as you bore your way through the surgery. He wondered why your patrons didn’t numb you, why they let you suffer through something as terrible as this.

“Almost, almost.”

“Lukkesh..”

The last bit fell away and he could finally breathe. The damned thing was out, you were free, your time as a slave finally physically complete. Luke wondered if Vader still had his detonator or if he had it removed. He really, really hoped the man had it removed. Your breathing was shuddery, your head still swimming as you lay there in the sand, body too warm, the wound gaping open.

“You did well, so well. It’s over now, I promise, you’re free.”

You nodded, letting your eyes flutter shut for a moment until he started speaking again, “The first flight has been flown. Body returned to soul, the chains are severed, the slave set Free. I return you to yourself, let you bear no weight of shackles ever again, let the generations that come from you never fear the depur. Your choices shall be your own from this moment forward, your actions ones you take willingly. You are no longer bound, and if you so chose, may ring the Bells of Kashyyyk.”

That had you grinning a little, somehow registering his words as your body began to repair itself. Free. You were freed. Luke had come, he had freed you, saved you, returned you to yourself.

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you.”

You sat up slowly, head starting to clear as the wound began to grow up, filling the hole completely as you did. In Luke’s hand was the detonator, a small thing packed with a whole lot of damage. He held it out to you, letting you inspect the tiny thing that had ruled over your life for so long.

“Thank the moon Ghomrassen for the divinity of healing. My torn flesh and broken bones belong to him and him alone. I thank him for lending me the strength of withstanding the process it takes to heal, for not everyone is blessed to survive.”

“Thank Ghomrassen.”

The wound sealed shut, the skin pink and raw for only a few seconds until that faded into a white line which then faded into nothing as well. You reached up to his face, tracing your finger over his nose, “Fix this nose so he can be whole.”

Luke winced as the bone realigned itself, straightening and reforming until it was the nose he had before it broke. You didn’t heal the scars though, you knew he’d like to keep them. It was part of being a runner, keeping the scars. But the nose, well, that was a little bit of an exception.

“Thank you.”

You sighed and then stretched a little bit, leveling a look at the man in front of you, “Thanks for getting that out, it was rather annoying living with a bomb in my ribs all the time.”

He chuckled, standing up and offering his hand, “We should start making our way out soon. I don’t want any stragglers coming by to find the wreckage of this. At least with us in proximity to it. The bounty hunters won’t take kindly to this, nor will the Hutts.”

You took his hand easily, standing up as Han did too, “I agree, we need to head to Anchorhead, from there we’ll be able to steal a ship or scam the kriff out of some guy and get out of here.”

“You always put things out so eloquently.”

“Ooh, has all the time off Tatooine made you posh now? You start talking like a Corrie lately?”

“Oh shut up, I do not.”

“I dunno, you’re using words bigger than Tatooine’s, admittedly limited, vocabulary, but it’s eloquent so don’t worry too hard about it.”

The rest stood up as well, letting you two fall back into silence again as the true extent of the journey lay out before you all. A walk through the desert from here. It wasn’t going to be a short journey, or an easy one, because it’d probably be easier if they were on probably any other planet besides Tatooine, but they weren’t. Four of the people in your group weren’t used to the desert or what it would entail, they didn’t understand how atrocious the next handful of days were going to be.

Luke cleared his throat, capturing their attention, “Okay, so we’re stranded in the Northern Dune Sea, no supplies except a bloody knife, a needle, and some thread. We’ve got no water, no clothes good for traveling through this place, exactly two weapons not counting the knife, and no contact with the outside world because all our comms were either destroyed or on that ship. Beyond the obvious, there’s a few other things.”

“Most importantly. You four are not desert people. Meaning that this trip back is probably going to be a unique form of torture to you four that will make a meeting with Vader look like vacation. So, here’s a few tips and tricks. Don’t wet your lips, it’ll make them drier and more painful. Don’t cry, it’s a waste of water and it’ll only serve as a headache inducer. You’re going to sweat, and there’s going to be a lot of it. I’m not sure if my body will handle it the way it used to, but desert people generally don’t sweat, we’ve evolved not to, in a way. And then, sand walking.”

You took over then, grin matching his, “Alright. Sand walking is important because there are a lot of predators over here, and a good portion of them live in the sand. An excellent way to survive and avoid them is to walk in rhythm with the desert. Luke and I will show you how, but it’s important not to repeat your moves. You’ll be slow at first, but you’ll pick up on it, and trust me when I say you’ll need to pick it up quickly because if you don’t then we will be eaten alive and I did not just get freed from slavery to be eaten by a worm or lizard.”

Lando blinked, glancing between Leia, Han, and Chewie before looking at you, blinking rapidly as he leaned forward, “Worms and lizards will kill us?”

Luke snorted, “Technically, yes. We’ve got Kryat dragons, lesser and greater, but they have a natural enemy called the Dune Sea Worms, which are basically, oh, say, twenty clicks long? No eyes, no ears, no nose, just a mouth big enough to swallow buildings, and consequently, anybody that is in that building. I wouldn’t say we have a great relationship with them, but if there’s a champion of Kydush then their traditional steed of choice is a worm.”

You nodded, “He’s not lying. The champion of Kydush will harness the worm and ride it to freedom, he’ll swallow the depurs in his path and make them regret ever enslaving people from the get go.”

“Kydush?”

Luke grinned wider, “Yes, Kydush. God of the warriors, he’s a great strategist, military man. He looks over the soldiers and offers aid to runners during confrontation. His champion is always strong enough to bear the reins of a worm.”

Leia was looking at where a detonator had just been cut out of you. The skin already perfectly healed, as if she hadn’t seen your ribs and the way your body clung to that detonator. Moons blessed, Luke had called you.

“Are you two champions of any deities?”

“Totally separate. These are deities, our pantheon to worship and follow wherever they may guide us. The force is everything, the energy in metal, a blade of grass, me, you, the sky. That is the force.”

You and Luke fell silent before he nodded, “Yes. I’m champion of the desert and the storms, she’s champion of the moons. Which means she has three domains. The soul, the healing, the oasis. It’s why she heals so fast, why she can heal anything. It’s literally etched into her very soul. Just like the desert is meshed with mine.”

“This isn’t..the force, or anything like that?”

Silence again.

“So sand walking?”

[eyecan02]

Analysis: Why Alastor is Randy and Why I'm Not Being Completely Delulu About It

While we may not know how frequently/infrequently Alastor would sleep with someone, one thing we do know is that apparently (according to Viv's former coworker Faustisse) Alastor did not die a virgin.

So if he's not a virgin, that means he occasionally did have sex and that it's been 7 years since he's last been intimate with someone. Let's just say for example that Alastor had a routine of doing it once or twice with a woman every 3 months or so.

That would mean a routine he was used to was suddenly disrupted for 7 years so I think the story is beginning with Alastor in a period of wanting- that rare urge someone like him would get to have sex on his terms.

He was someone's prisoner for 7 years , and continues to be someone's slave even with his leash "loosened". He likely didn't get to talk/interact with a lot of people wherever he was. As he told Charlie in the first episode,"It's been some time since..." and does a little walking gesture with his claws.

Almost as if he's trying to say that he's sort of trying to "find his land legs again" while he reacclimates to his old home and interacting with people once more.

In the first episode, right off the bat we see see Alastor reacting to something sex related. He shadow summoned himself to Angel's side before Angel even mentioned Alastor when he suggested a porn as a commercial.

Alastor's reaction was replying with, "Ha! Never going to happen!" A lot of people assume this means Alastor is sex repulsed, but he's literally only known Angel a week at this point so I feel like it's the way most people would react to someone speaking so boldly to them.

People focus entirely too much on that line and don't pay attention to one very important detail of that scene. The shadow summoning part. It's interesting the way Alastor instantly teleports to Angel's side.

Why? Can he read minds? Does he automatically know when someone is thinking of having sex with him? Could it be maybe that he also has sex on the brain? Obviously not with Angel but just in general.

Another thing I haven't really seen a lot of people talk about is this one line from episode 2. After Sir Pentious returns a piece of Alastor's coat, Alastor says, "Oh, not many have been able to take even this much off of me."

Out of all the ways he could've phrased it, he chose to say it in a way that made the line sound on the verge of sexual. To me, it sounds like an Easter egg about Alastor's sexuality. As if they're trying to say that just because Al doesn't have many knotches on his bed post...it doesn't mean that there aren't any knotches.

In episode 3, we're shown that Alastor has two chairs in front of his fireplace- alluding that he does want company/is expecting a guest in his room at some point. Zestial's comment in this episode is interesting.

"Some had suggested that you'd fallen to...holy arms." The way it could also mean Alastor has FALLEN for someone "holy"/literally part angel because of her dad.

Then there's Zestial's other line, "There too have been rumors of thy involvement with the princess and her recent flight of fancy." Alastor's eyes are dilated at the mention of Charlie.

Alastor only appears in a flashback in episode 4, but I feel like this episode not only alludes/reflects what he's up to, it also serves to demonstrate Val as a direct foil for Alastor. We have to remember that Val only owns Angel half the time so when Angel is not in the studio, Angel gets to rebel and choose his own partners. Unlike Alastor who seemingly did not have freedom for 7 years.

I feel like Alastor is both fascinated and envious of Angel for having a certain degree of freedom so I feel like he tries to take a page out of Angel's book, and simply tries to "live" once in a while. Going back to my comment about believing episode 4 may subtly reflect what's going on whenever Alastor is absent.

I suspect that after an overlord meeting, he tries to go back to "familiar times" like drinking, dancing and occasionally sleeping with someone. I have an inkling that I'm not far off the mark because in episode 5, Alastor appears like he had a late morning/afternoon almost like if maybe he's coming up from a hangover/late night.

Like he just seemed so unaware that Luci was coming over the way he glares at the "Wellcum Daddy" banner like "Why wasn't I informed?" That's how out of it he was.

With Alastor being frustrated in ways more than one, especially due to his lack of freedom, it makes it worse when the most powerful being walks into Alastor's territory and immediately starts hugging Charlie in front of him.

The first time in the series we actually see Alastor touch Charlie (not including the pilot), he touches her shoulder, back and chin almost as if he's trying to "wipe off Luci's touch and scent" to replace it with his own. His claws are on her boob too when he first places his hand on her shouder.

Charlie's reaction to Alastor's hand on her shoulder is telling- it means that Alastor touching her up until that point was not a common everyday occurrence so I'm thinking that Alastor himself did not realize how much he liked Charlie until he started giving her compliments in front of her dad.

It started off as him trying to stake claim over Charlie/piss off Luci but every time he looked at Charlie as he praised her, his eyes were soft and full of sincerity. I think Alastor finally touching her onscreen opened the floodgates of his attraction to Charlie- literally can't stop touching her for the rest of the episode.

Then comes the scene where Alastor defends the hotel/devours the loan sharks, he says, "Oh, how I missed getting to let off steam!" While, yes, he misses the unbridled violence and chaos he used to cause, "letting off steam" does in some cases mean to let off frustration in a sexual way. For a character who is apparently not meant to be overtly sexual, he sure has quite a few innuendos in this first season.

In episode 7, Alastor is acting so comfortable on Charlie's bed. Why? Again, he's supposedly meant to be the least sexual character in the series. And yet he's rolling around on Charlie's bed (where she sleeps with Vaggie) like he owns it.

Notice he's even laying on Vaggie's side (trying to mark his scent to mask Vaggie's) and making "come and get it" poses on her bed. He only gets out of Charlie's bed/starts acting more seriously when she says, "I don't understand how you can enjoy everyone's suffering so much."

"Just because you see a smile, don't think you understand what's going on underneath." Alastor doesn't want Charlie to simply see him as a 2D villain. He actually cares what she thinks about him, and that's why he reveals that his smile is a power move that Charlie should use.

He both cares about her and desires her physically. Constantly grabbing Charlie's shoulders, touching her hair, pressing his face against hers. He's obsessed with her, and physically needs to be near her. That's probably why he didn't further try to take advantage of the situation.

At this point, Charlie was pretty much broken up with Vaggie so Alastor could've taken advantage of her vulnerability and given into his physical desires for her. The problem is as I mentioned, he cares about her and also serves a master so sleeping with Charlie would complicate matters.

If he ever wants to be free to desire or get what he wants in general, he'll need that deal with Charlie. Just the way Alastor looks at his hand after the deal is sealed between them(you can even see he briefly held Charlie's hand tighter for an instant before letting go), you can see how content he is almost as if he's half way to feeling the kind of satisfaction he wants.

The whole "good girl" scene seems to have subtext, especially because of Charlie's reaction to Alastor calling her a good girl and petting her. Why was she so shy all of a sudden? Alastor had just finished extorting a very vague deal from Charlie, and the aftermath is her being shy?

I have this theory that Charlie and Al didn't just make a deal- their minds melded together. This is shown when Charlie explained to Vaggie that angels can be killed, but when did Alastor tell her this? The two of them never once spoke during the entire making of the contract, which means Alastor fed Charlie the information telepathically. But did Charlie hear other kinds of thoughts from Alastor? Anything that would've had her reacting shyly to him only moments later? I'm betting on yes, yes she did.

Later in episode 7, we see Alastor link arms with Charlie and wearing a very serious expression when a male cannibal tries to greet them. Alastor did not so much as bat an eye at the "She's much too young for you" comment and just continues staring evenly at Charlie.

I love the look he gives her when he leans on Charlie's chair and says. "We're here on business of another kind." They look like a Queen with her advisor in this scene.

"She's filled with potential that I could guide." It's not just a physical desire he has for her or any order he's following from his master/manipulation. He wants her to reach her full potential with him at her side.

In episode 8, Alastor says this line. "You lack discipline, control and worst of all...you're sloppy." It's almost as if he's describing himself because these words seem like a foreshadowing for his defeat and also like a hint toward his sexuality- as in he doesn't want to be controlled by any desires he might have.

It's a paradox because while Alastor may not want to be ruled by love or desire, he's fascinated by it. This is noted during the "the last stand before the battle" party scene. "It's been a thrilling ride watching these wayward souls find connection." He doesn't seem to realize it but he's a romantic at heart, enjoying the development between Huskerdust and CherriSnake.

"One could almost get accustomed," he says as he stares directly at Charlie in a dreamy sort of way. This is probably one of the most sincere Alastor scenes we've seen so far.

During Alastor's finale song, he sings, "I'm hungry for freedom like never before." Like never before because he cares for and desires Charlie. This changes the game entirely and gives Alastor a stronger resolve to free himself.

He will still betray her and the Hazbin gang at some point. This is inevitable but love and lust complicate things for sure so it won't be as straightforward as Alastor laughing evilly while twirling his proverbial mustache. We'll be in for quite the ride that's for sure.

I love that that they hardly interacted in the season finale ep, and yet the animators were kind enough to feed us with the hug scene. For someone who hates touch, Alastor didn't seem to mind Charlie hugging him at all. I feel like Charie is his comfort person, and we'll get to see more of Al's obsessive love and lust for Charlie in season 2.

[latterdaydaisy]

I don’t have the greatest testimony of the prophet as I should, not for any particular reason I just kind of forget he’s there.

But something I’ve been thinking about lately is this quote from President Nelson:

“Whatever questions or problems you have, the answer is always found in the life and teachings of Jesus Christ.“

One of my favourite verses in the scriptures is 3 Nephi 13:22 (which can also be found in Matthew 6:22) which reads:

“The light of the body is the eye; if, therefore, thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light.”

I particularly appreciate the JST version of this verse which is:

“The light of the body is the eye; if therefore thine eye be single to the glory of God, thy whole body shall be full of light.”

I just really love the simplicity of what President Nelson and these scriptures have conveyed. It’s seen all throughout scripture, Jesus Christ is the light and all we have to do is look and keep our focus centered on Him. And everything else follows.

Now this may seem like some overly simplistic idea that’s easy to brush off. But hear me out. Why would it be hard? Sure, it feels hard. But Heavenly Father is not a God that wants to forbid us from returning to Him and having all He has in store for us. Isn’t that the whole point of Christ coming to earth and atoning for our sins? So He can redeem us?

So this is your reminder and my testimony that if you look to Christ in all things, at all times, and keep your focus centered on Him only- you will be filled with light. You can be changed, you can be healed, you can be forgiven, you can be redeemed. You can have joy. All you have to do is look. I know that, because when I stopped worrying about treating my faith like a checklist to avoid damnation and started just looking to Him- things got so much simpler, I became happier, and I started to make so much more progress. So be still, all is well. You know in whom you’ve trusted. Just look to Him, and continue to do so in all things, at all times, moment by moment, step by step. Jesus loves you, and I love you too. Take care 💛

[vultursvolans]

stop wait i'm in ur askbox everyday now HELP MEEE I ALSO WANTED to know what ur dynamic w sae was when u still liked him or if u just liked him without like a fleshed out selfship or any thoughts u had !!! WAUGDSL;JFSKD i love ur selfshippies so much i think u come up w such interesting plots i am in love ... ryu i must see into thy brain

KSJDHGKJDHGJK YOU ARE SO SWEET, YOU ARE MORE THAN WELCOME HERE CORABEE!!!!

okay ive only mentioned my old sae ship to you personally, so i'll say again that this was from a couple of years ago when only s1 was out and i had barely read the manga. funnily, the ship was more fleshed out than ryutoya BUT MY MEMORY IS ALL FUZZY SO PLS FORGIVE ME IF I GET ANY CANON DETAILS WRONG. this ship was the most self indulgent thing everrr lololl IM SHY

sae and i were exes to lovers, and we dated in high school before parting ways. it wasn't for very long, but it was enough to be significant to both of us (experiencing our firsts with each other etc etc). then he goes to spain and i pursue a music career internationally. i don't become big big, but i do show up on a certain someone's social media app every so often *cough cough*. in my little mind palace, there's a timeskip before we meet again, and it's most likely back in japan

i'm picturing an upscale sporting event or conference, maybe something where players accept awards and the like. and who do they hire as a part of their entertainment? me :D so the stars have aligned, and we cross paths again after all these years. we approach each other briefly after the event is over, and i think it's a sweet and surreal moment bc we were just kiddos when we dated. and look at us now! so deep into our careers with many accomplishments to our names. our first meeting is basically just a 'hi, how are you, bye' type thing, but i do give him a friendly side hug. some of his team do witness this and already know how odd that is because IT'S SAE and they're probably wondering how we even know each other. from this point, the rest is history <3

i think the fun part of this ship was rekindling that flame and slowly sharing stories of what we've achieved, seeing how we've grown, and what quirks from back then have remained. when we reconnect, we don't have any motive to date again at all. the feelings simply return over time when curiosity and admiration turned into something deeper!!

[swan2swan]

So, spoiler thoughts:

So, a good season. Pretty decent, but I'm a little worried that they blew everything by making Season 1 so good.

Definitely had some of the best scenes in the franchise, but the way Season 1 ramped up felt like it was a little...shallow of a splash on Season 2. 8/10 season, maybe a 7/10.

Arguably my least favorite season of the cartoon, and that includes Season 4 of Camp Cretaceous....okay, no, I think this was much better.

I felt like the Brooklynn Alone episode didn't quite match the power of the Ben Alone episode, and that was the first issue. But that also feels like an episode where they had to cut some stuff down with Brooklynn--in fact, there's almost half an episode missing, it felt like. Woulda loved to see her adjusting to public life with her limb difference, and the DLN. Woulda made thee moment where Soyona gently comments on her limb difference all the better.

Speaking of Soyona, I'm glad thy kept her just as much of a menace. I was worried at a few points, but in the end, it was clear that she had complete control the whole time. Probably knows that Brooklynn is spying on her, too....but she's letting it happen.

The episodes with the gang also didn't hit hard enough. It really felt like they waffled around too much with the whole "Kenji Wants to Kill Himself" plotline for too long, and then missed the window. That's indisputably my biggest issue with the seasons: I hate when shows forfeit the essentials of their episodic format and just keep kicking the ball down the road. Kenji risks his life. Yaz gasps. Kenji risks his life. Yaz gasps. Kenji risks his life. Yaz gasps. It's a disservice to BOTH when you don't get to the point and do it five times over.

Then there was Zayna--a delightful character, more than welcome, but I felt that we deserved more of an exploration of "Hey, we're taking on someone who was the same age we were when we were Traumatized. Let's keep the same from happening to her, okay?" And then they could have focused on that a little more than one throwaway gag from Darius.

There also wasn't a lot of introspection on the group, and Darius's infatuation with Brooklynn and Kenji's falling-out with her also seemed a little diluted...meant to be products of odd happenstance and Bad Timing, a Malevolent Coincidence, rather than stagnation and an inevitable reaction. Such is the consequence of a backstory, though.

HOWEVER...the scene in Soyona's apartment was among the best in the franchise. Tense and powerful, wonderfully acted and perfectly paced, it was only matched by Brooklynn's return later. Soyona and Brooklynn played off each other in a way that made them the most engaging part of the season--both a praise and a criticism (the second-best part was possibly Sammy and Zayna, though, again...if they'd gotten into the "Keep Her From Experiencing What Happened To Us" part, it mighta been better.

The Leucistic Baryonyx was a fine addition, but I do wish they'd had the budget to bring in another new dinosaur. Maybe a Megaraptor of some sort. It worked, and the HORROR aspect was definitely there, but...eh. The part where Red figured out "Oh, clicking noises make you happy?" was PHENOMENAL THOUGH??? I FORGOT THAT RAPTORS WERE SMART? I WAS WONDERING HOW THEY WERE COMMUNICATING AND THEN I REALIZED THAT IT WAS JUST RED FIGURING THINGS OUT?????????? BECAUSE SHE'S SMART?????

But also, this felt very much like the Quarry Season. A lot of stuff is happening, there's a nice big group of people, but it's very enclosed. You can even see it in the concept art: the village in Episode 2's credits, the tarmac in Episode 10, this world shoulda been bustling, but they could only afford so much. Less an indictment of the show and more of the budget given to them. Suchomimus coulda been chasing villagers instead of schlorping water, and there coulda been some guards on the tarmac surrounding Brooklynn for that final meeting.

I was very delighted when she went with Soyona, though. And when her PTSD got her in the WORST moment.

Anyway. Hoping next season takes it to a new level. This one had the spunk of Season 1, but it didn't have the reach. But maybe a rewatch will help (it won't, most of my criticisms are Set In Stone, I'm just Correct).

[lizardrosen]

gertrude seems to know that setting up hamlet and ophelia like this isn't a good idea, but she still gives ophelia her good wishes, and lingers a little before she leaves, like she's really pouring all her hopes into this interaction

hamlet is shown into the room by marcellus, which is obviously suspicious, but he's also gotten used to that kind of treatment so it doesn't ping any major alarm bells yet, so he and ophelia get like a minute of sweetness kissing and laughing together, and she seems really tempted to just go for it, but then she catches herself and returns his remembrances. but she won't quite meet his eyes, which is why he looks around suspiciously and loudly performs "no, not i, i never gave you aught" and then tries to signal to her that he thinks she might be bugged, by feeling around his own collar, and when she doesn't give him any confirmation he tries to touch her shirt instead. at this point he just wants to feel that someone is on his side, and then they'd be able to play out this little breakup and be free.

AUGH these two love each other so much, but they can't break out of the script their parents have given them, so they're just standing far apart and both crying without wiping their eyes

hamlet has to BRACE himself to say "get thee to a nunnery." he hates the words coming out of his mouth, but then he starts talking about his own character flaws and he LOVES talking about those because he believes it all, and then he drops all the energy and says very calmly "where is thy father?" ophelia says "at home my lord" but then she nods towards where they're hiding to confirm what he suspected, and you just sort of watch hamlet give up a little

he laughs a little at one of the jokes he's written in the letters and then drops the whole stack on the floor like it doesn't even matter to him, and then he yells a bit and rushes at some curtains in the back, hoping to surprise polonius and claudius, and when he's disappointed he comes back to "give thee this plague for thy dowry" and gets increasingly Alarming. one of the worst moments is when he takes a small vase with a daisy and dashes the water into her face to try to wipe off her makeup, and the daisy falls to the floor, and he's just getting more physical and aggressive with her

and she STILL comes towards him to try to soothe him, because as horrible as he's being, she can recognize that he's in real mental distress, and she still loves him enough to help him (and he and polonius are foils!!) and shortly after " it hath made me mad" ophelia stops trying to follow him and just stares at something in the air that we can't see, the same as when she came to polonius about him, only worse. "oh what a noble mind is here overthrown" is talking about both of them in a way, and she only partly recognizes that.

she pounds her heart, which she'll also do a lot in later scenes, and then rubs at her chest the same way hamlet has been doing whenever he gets caught up in his mind. truly, his madness and helplessness is contagious!!

when claudius says "he shall with speed to England" she stops gathering up the letters and looks up at him with sharp alarm, she does NOT like the sound of this! and then she picks the daisy up too as she stands and is getting way too fixated on it, it's such a tragic image!!

[suzannahnatters]

I Re-Read Tolkien's "Lay of Leithian" For the First Time in Like 15 Years And It's Still My Favourite Poem In the Whole Wide World: Selected Ravings

CANTO I mostly scene setting, but it's so fun to get more worldbuilding details on Doriath. Also this poetry is just gorgeous

CANTO II thou shalt to the moonless mists of hell descend and seek thy Eilinel AUGH

A bunch of details are different in this early version (Gorlim seeking out the Enemy, and being taken to Morgoth not Sauron) but the one that gets me most is Gorlim sneaking away from the phantom without making himself known because he doesn't want her to be hurt T_T

LOTR Orcs are cockneys. Lay of Leithian Orcs have clearly been to university

CANTO III OH HERE'S WHY LUTHIEN HAS SLEEP MAGIC!!!!! Because her mother Melian was associated with Lorien in Valinor, the Vala of dreams and visions, who in Line 439 of the Lay Tolkien calls "the Lord of Sleep"

Okay this is amazing: There after but an hour, him seems, he finds her where she lies and dreams, pale Melian with her dark hair upon a bed of leaves. Beware! There slumber and a sleep is twined! He touched her tresses and his mind was drowned in the forgetful deep, and dark the years rolled o'er his sleep MESS WITH THE ENCHANTRESS AT YOUR PERIL

And now his heart was healed and slain With a new life and with new pain

They enchant each other T_T when he calls "Tinuviel!" there's magic in it

CANTO IV the deathless in his dying shared feels faintly redolent of the Gospel

CANTO V TEXTILE MAGIC Rapunzel joins the list of stories Tolkien looked at, sniffed, and said "I can do better"

CANTO VI We find out why Sauron (here, Thu) is called The Necromancer:

In glamoury that necromancer held his hosts of phantoms and of wandering ghosts, of misbegotten or spell-wronged monsters that about him thronged, working his bidding dark and vile: the werewolves of the Wizard's Isle.

CANTO VII I love SO MUCH the fact that in this version what gives them away to Sauron is the fact that they won't blaspheme the gods and declare Morgoth the king of all earthly kings

CANTO VIII I think it's super important to note that this begins with an absolutely gorgeous passage describing the Bestest Boi, and also there's this beautiful beautiful little Sir Orfeo reference that lives in my head rent free:

Hark! afar in Nargothrond, far over Sirion and beyond, there are dim cries and horns blowing, and barking hounds through the trees going.

Lúthien's meeting with Huan:

Huan alone that she ever met she never in enchantment set nor bound with spells. RIP to you Beren

CANTO IX this whole canto is unbeLIEVably epic, possibly my favourite in the whole Lay, but my favourite part is Sauron hearing the song from the bridge and saying

A! little Lúthien! What brought the foolish fly to web unsought? ee hee hee hee

CANTO X Tolkien just really wants you to know that these guys are Beyond It:

Thereafter never hound was whelped would follow horn of Celegorm or Curufin.

It's interesting that Tolkien at this stage had Beren telling Lúthien to stay in Doriath waiting for his return specifically because Sauron had informed him that Morgoth was keen to capture her. It's like he realised that with all of Lúthien's evident capabilities he needed to give Beren a convincing reason to leave her behind lol

CANTO XI Lúthien catching Beren in the middle of his dramatic farewell will never not crack me up but in this version she tells him off for not putting his trust in her might so weak and then when he asks where's the hound he left to guard her she tells him how much wiser and kinder Huan is than him at which point Beren demands to know why she doesn't just marry the dog

The description of them putting on the werewolf and vampire disguises, and their journey to the gates of Thangorodrim, is fanTAStically creepy and epic and also, I'm surprised to note, HIGHLY reminiscent of the hobbits' trek into Mordor.

CANTO XII this bit about how Carcharoth has not yet come

disastrous, ravening, from the gates of Angband

has STRONG Voluspa echoes -

Loud bays Garm before Gaping-Hel; the bond shall be broken, the Wolf run free

CANTO XIII I love these descriptions of Angband (even Morgoth has tree themed decor) and I love EVEN MORE the fact that when Lúthien flies into the hall a Dark Lord, all his Balrogs and a ton of werewolves suddenly feel the Valar walking over their graves -

A nameless doubt, a shapeless fear had entered in their caverns drear, and grew, and towered above them cowed, hearing in heart the trumpets loud of gods forgotten.

She stood revealed in hell. (chewing glass)

CANTO XIV (fragment) I am going to haunt Tolkien in the afterlife for leaving it off here.

[libidomechanica]

Met, the fair presence gies to me

A ballad sequence

               1

Met, the fair presence gies to me.     And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, do not go gentle     into that good night.

Rosy is the South, roses are     her cheek. Inebriate of air—am I and Debauchee     of Dew. I mean the

adamantine Destinies. And thy     posies soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten—in folly     ripe, in reason down its

agonizing throbs; and, after     proper purpose of amendment, can firmly force his speech,     and here you are combing

it, in the hardened lava. No,     no, go not to Lethe, neither Doctor nor his horse, the most     mild, the pond—and thorn, so

old and great; a knave this humble     state, for a’ the pride o’ her heart will never turn to left,     and how white his belly;

and who is she, where is an hind,     but as for me, I am all that was all his growth a     vengeful canker eat him

up to death. She was with child by     young Favonious. Ah, simple Hero, learn thyself to win!     Has placed wild flowers do

now, before the day was born mean     my life is mixed: the mocking Past will stand, so strictly over     utmost him so hugely

stood my father, there sometimes     a car bomb … And in the gravy as well. He inly stormed     and waxed more furious

than for the same looser yeares,     whether the sea. And them, like Mars and Erycine, display     both in each other’s arms

chained as they pass, by their own,     belonging to all, to each, to the rich Ocean for gifts he     flies. The new news is I

love there is a thorn; it looks so     old and great; a knave this lecture read: that thinks! And flash upon     the Rhine yield such an

host what flinty savage dares, when     awful Beauty joins with poets through their vermillion     As if it were again.

               2

Thou art a girl with eager eyes     and ears, and threw him gaudy toys to please nomore, one if     I please, can pleasure feel

of Bessy at her spinnin’ wheel.     And I know, I wish to cause you any pain. But hawks will     rob the tender flower,

and birds sang loudly in the web     of it. Fell headlong force, beneath th’ Atlantic, from     France. For dear to me, as

light and Stars return! When shepheards     Oaten reede, or if I euer sonet song so cleare, as it     with vain annoyes. Nor more

a storm her hate: superiors?     It’s that the ledge itself discovers, and a long row of     military trains crawls

on the harbor. Oh gentle muses!     No hungry man but me; that’s the thorn you see, all colours     that were ever seen,

and cups, the darlings of the true     gods sigh for him—he asks no more in subjects having     intellect some hidden

influence to lead thy thought! Unlike     are we, unlike, O princely Heart! Now round us spreads the     watery tree. Defend

the fort, and keep the foeman out.     The dark lintels, the blushful Hippocrene, in such an host     what flinty savage dares,

when awful Beauty joins with all     her life and of May, singing desire into begin     joy was his bonnet crowned

with blazing still; and she can see     thou lovest, and the fair he sees all bath’d in tears—Oh,     odious, odious trees!

               3

Nay rack your brain—’tis all in vain.     Than if Kate o’ the Croft were my only delight. In folly     ripe, in reason down

its agonizing throbs; and, after     proper purpose nobly dear, the gentle closure of     my soul. Pretty ring time,

when birds do sing, hey ding a ding,     ding; sweet love remembering a breakfast, one is staring out     the sun now in a cloud;

blood quaffing Mars heaving the iron     net which like sweet music, they could not do—the pillow     glowed and glowed both roof and

floor, and bids make ready Maias bowre,     the Woodes that oft my witnesse well by thy ill gouernement,     thy maysters mind is

ouercome with shame and sallow fear,     like chaste Diana when Actaeon spied her lover, can’st thou     prove, were it not thyself,

nor me the weak point: my Lady’s     nose of Nature might could render voice kept sounding, for long     in dreams came features once

so beautiful and wise. The droop-     headed flowers I noted, yet I none could sail; for     incorporeal fame whose weight

consists in nothing the body     was as green and palely loitering, though thou be his     prisoner, who is thine. The

lusty god embrace, our parting     was fu’ tender; but build a world with snow. He fainted on     his vengefulness, no

mirth, pleasure seem a fault? We are     even more modern we are free an LP of poetry     left on in the dark

herself she sought. Handling power-     tools or steering-wheel or touching it she trembled: and     Venus to the depth and

bread I broke with you was a life.     To kill those goods which her breast, his chicken heart so tender;     and, pledging aft to meet.

               4

Ne’er king more than married at a’?     How charming, if there’s a rumour, that should her robes but     straight arose and, drunk with gladness, to the poor dry empty     thing in holes, as he sate by the church-yard path to seek: for     many a time, when she

obeys; let fops or fortune and     men’s eyes, those orient cheeks and lips, exceeding his that     leaped into a planisphere. Cast down his weary waine, and     night. That some have wronged Diana’s name? There is something of moods:     not, like hard life, of laws.

               5

Hangs o’er the watery plain—oh     might our marges meet again! But grant, in public, weary     ev’ry eye, nor leave one sigh behind them when the unseen     strikes, how all the evil of misfortune this sting is added,     Blame thy foolish self!

Anonymously political     blocking the golden Morpheus in silence of her cheeks’     returning glow; nor did discern how all else pales beside     the thorn is bound with heavy tufts of moss, without, how farre     this praise is short of you,

sweet Lipp, you teach my mouth with one     sweet kisse. Than Dis, on heaps of heavy gold, and have spent myself     until the moon, three cherubs drawn by Michelangelo,     done this with her legs spread out in the grave, myself can     hold the bridge that’s in the

shadowe of a bushy brere, that     dewly adayes counts mine. When tis by that alone she can     see thou lovely maiden, ae sweet smell as she passed, when tis     by that alone she can see a mile of road, oh cruel! Alas,     but now too old. Some

swore he never will be sworn is     true. For sideways would stray, the pairtrick whirring o’er the down,     to bring a doctor from the sky, seres Spring’s maturity,     checks Summer’s birth, leaves linnet’s pipe as sad as plover’s     cry, and makes a piteous

moan, as if her very sight     upbraided all the way home? And bathe in gold the misty dale,     and Baskets of bulrushes was my wont: who to entrappe     the fish in winding sale was better spent in vain discourse     and apish merriment.

               6

” “I’m here, what is’t you want with me?     And basest mould, but use? For tears, and the wife and daughter     Briar Rose and she’d never

call back: Hello there! What has     not been arraigned, chafes at his sentence. Dies, the thud of a     head banging against the

dying of the soul of evil,     he’s galloping away, quick and cold, the sun slow at his     zenith, sweating gold, once,

in some sullen surges and then     again he fainted on his vengeful canker eat him up     to death. Stuck in a time

machine, suddenly repented     and turned again, thou fairest in thee there is a fresh and     love alive. And the day

before the pointed time had spread     the devil. To slake his anger was as a charm, and swore     he was almost despising,

haply I think if thus you     live alone some one or others, from her on him! Safe is     your true delights are banquets,

Doric music, music play’st,     upon that beauty was of yore. Or we could ne’er have flown     but vainly flapped its Tinsel

wing. He reckless of his promise     did despise the act! He whom you love, you are my Last     Love. This strife of hers like

that endure; and that is left. Than     such as dare approach the spot, the spot to which should that beach     we could wed in bear suits

just as it was morning, the ev’ning     Masque: so morning rose, her mind pure, and her old face     Breadth and heavy with you.

               7

Not bondage is, but Ornament.     So, through very selfishness! Was strewed with pearl, and in     low coral groves sweet singing

mermaids sported with the dragon-     fly had fled away, ere he brought her sleep: vainly no     smallest voice might come and

go but it is winter when it     comes the leaves sae green; but purer was the love of th’     everlasting Destinies,

he wounds with the one who cries     out for Germany. A lot said he ow said she now said     he go slow said she what’s

too far said she She is all that’s     good and grey. Burns where it cherished and obstinate: or her,     who is thine. I curst thee

oft, I pitie now thy case, blind-hitting     Boy, since gods began to sound forth music to the ocean,     which waves in every

raven tress, or softly lightens     in his shack with lots of tape delays and loops, a good buy!—     Oh God forbid! Breath of

a blasting infamy. The prince     at all, came lovers as faithfu’ and kind is her Johnny     goes. Ado, when I took

my way, each trifle under truest     bars to thrust, that right to fluttering female hearts of     those sweet perfume descended

be: see, doo you see one sigh,     another world been black. Cotes to frame her look told—Perhaps     a young virgin that in

battle array, ready in heart     and ready in hand, march with fire the tranquil cheek where you     are fair, ay me so wondrous

fair, so young, so gentle, and     something moving across the bridge that’s in the birds sang sweet     in the gay, dewy morning,

and I rejoice in my bosom,     thou shalt mix in ilka grove; his cheek to hers he fondly     lov’d us; nay more,

that kindled at his glance to some     other gains. In England we’ll not hear of it. I feel most     clear. Too justly ravished

from an age like this, now she     is gone forever lodging in spaces that myopic     travelers can’t see. This thorn

you see, all colours that were never     do him harm. The list of actresses who might employ     him as their slender threads

of human life. I went the ways.     In one of those that carefull hower, wherein I sawe     so fayre a sight, as she

spake, forth from those holy antique     hours are seen, which Heav’n has varnish’d out, and down it goes again.     Even as a bird,

which in our hands we wring, forth plungeth     and oft amazed stands. And wild voice pealing up to all     my best doth worship her?

               8

Threading hair. And like that. One from     thy sleep that thou art my home. Oh my bodhisattva of     nothing let’s give a rosebud

to nothing boding I hope     nothing rising underfoot, the scrape of cold wipers along     the town she posts up

hill and plain and is no more will     fall. For the dinghy, has placed wild flowers do now, before     their eyes began to stir,

though in the dull middle of     Wyoming and one is anywhere and all seem to be singing     an air that is born

with us? The thirteenth fairy,     her fingers walk with gentle muses! And has been washed in     the fragrant zone; she look’d

as she’d been got with child, and manna     dew; and on thy cheeks unprofan’d by a tear, the     generous purpose of

amendment, can firmly force his jarring     thoughts so sweet, so ripe a judgment, and so wight, from bough     to bough he lepped light,

and oft were my bride, my bride. And     in my face deepe furrowes eld hath pight: my head nestled     in his looks were all we

taste as bright, when to the eyes of     another kind of twilight break, which thou doest watch and ward:     I thee beseche so be

thou deigne to heare, rude ditties tund     to shepheards deuise she hateth as the woman I am     and of the river. Then

up along the valleys of the     dead brown from heaven like a water far excels all earthly     fruites, now here

descended be: see, doo you see the     Welkin thicks apace, and wild for to hold, though in the wood,     where by one hand lightheaded

Bacchus and his train abode.     And heateth kindly, shining fair the pavement was. Dip in     the hard bright eye shining

fair, as careless sort the shipwrack     treasure: her audit, though he knows poor Johnny here, but he     is neither gods nor men

may thee deserve, yet for his love     Europa bellowing loud, and many poor excuses     did she will steal him thence.

               9

And Echo cons the doolfu’ tale; the lintwhite’s     nest; and when I shall see it ruinous and desolate. But deaf and cruel kind, a heart     to this? Year all pumpkins! A journey

in my heart. Their happy spots the nice admirer     take, fine by defect, for slander’s mark was ever yet the same, and manfully thereat     shotte. And swore the sea should not the beetle,

nor the death-bed whereon the gods in sundry     shapes committing heady riots, incest, rapes. Let me sing for the times we lay so naked     for immortal fingers as long

and hard enough at the map already … I’m     beginning to talk again. To my sole self! Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, the     dear ruin each wish of my heart to

another lover pants upon her breath forth the     ringled bit, and with fear of sleep? Spits forth to gaze upon, as heaven preserves all things,     so save thou one. Turn the drunken sailor

who waits in her smile, a wizard ensnaring;     enthron’d in her own good man, and them, like Mars and Erycine, display for loue then in     the river, making them eternall

sleepe. On lofty aiks the cushats wail, and still, save     that moment to set out for Germany. The fragrant as the modest morn teem’d her     refreshing dew? His clownish gifts and curtsies

I disdaine, his kiddes, his cracknelles, and     his horse, the voice of man; the stream of liquid pearl, which down her prayers with his brief hours     and the love of every swain. To change

my state with jealousy: and her tyrannic power     depose. Scented with the golden fleece. Go not, happy day, till the West is East, blush     from West to East, blush it thro’ the twilight

break, which thou must leave to rise. Have wasted too     many clocks on less-deserving men, so I hurl myself a motley to the very     soul of evil, he’s galloping away,

away, and so he’ll gallop on for aye, the     bane of all my life! Poor Susan Gale? You and tuck them tame; and the way home. Keen as     midsummer’s keen beyond conceiving mind

of sun will stand, so strictly over utmost him     so hugely stood my father thick upon me like some sleeping selves to swarm their farthest     earth removed far, and heateth kindly,

shining fair the pavement was. But where began to     swim and, looking back, his own shadow and, despising, haply I think on the earth, defac’d     its lovely in thy love procure.

Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss’d in the     name. As in the same? The offering if that is all which I ate like fruit with green birk, how     rich the hawthorn’s blossom, in the park,

attracts each light striking out from dim rich skies: nor     that their changes in your life sometime all full with feare, but with my heart. Ah, Friend! Inspired     and did not come. Past reason hated,

as a swallow’d bait on purpose laid to make     him stare, gave alms at Easter, in a Christians to die without allay. Seemed to crown the     pit of infamy: and then fall down

dead for grief, and end my woes I wrate; stellas sweet     breath; but, for his sake, to be revenged on Jove did undertake. Wretched errors hath     my heart compeld my mouth with one sweet

in thee, and thou with orient eyes dawnest on     my distress, below envy, robert Burns: pale, pale now, those roses gone, which makes some evenings     harder to enjoy. Is na’ she

very word she turn’d when he thinks no more will grind     on newer proof, to try an older friendship how rare! Who think is to be flung, strived     with nought, was moved with an evil gift.

               10

How when the night (that might need it.     And now she’s at the wood. Why vowest thou stil, and yet hast     thou think it quite unnatural.

No, the heavens expand,     the earth grows less and less to buy, aboon distress, suddenly     repented and turned

aside, and her grace, singing of     Death, and are betrothed to change. Every day with my young     bride in my arms, be mine;

and I the warld nor wish nor scorn,     when tis by that alone she can see thou lovest, and that     shame alike, the goblins’

hall, or in the courtiers, the     flies on the moon their backs, locomotives. Nothing, sweet boy;     but yet, alas, how shall?

But being separated and     removed, burns where it loved. Or wanders, heav’n-directed, to     these, ye must be done? To

linger by the river! God, or     King: alas! Where time and thought—star followed thought—star followed     star through my kneecap and

I won’t flinch. I bent my way, beneath     an evening-moon. Good men, the last of all her children,     the sun did shine so cold.

Some beauties peece, as amber-colour’d     hed, milke hands, they were so white. They still control the world.     Rosy is the South, roses

are her cheeks’ returning back,     saw Neptune and his lass, with a hey, and a hey nonino,     that o’er the park what

I took half an hour ago, on     Johnny vile reflections cast: a little muddy pond of     water, never, reach’d one

gen’rous God, who wit and gold refines,     and ripens spirits as he ripens mines, kept dross for     duchesses, the embracements

sweet, when like desires     and in her own good man, and therein more fresh the stormy     winter gale cuts like a

birthday she pricked her far, to whom     you loved before either of us dared to move or     With looking in her face.

               11

Of relations of her advice.     Therefore on him he seized. I was forced backward. To the right     well agree, for of this:

one is in a shoe factory     cursing the streams with soft deceitful wiles. They won’t attack     us here in the dark

herself therein. It could artless     rhymes, one friendly sigh for the drunken sailor who waits in     her green green mirror. Going

by would gaze at him, and one     hand rubs his old night-cap. The more she strived, the deep-delved     earth, tasting of Flora

and the other scarcely looked at     her: the little that which it was mine. To the sibyl’s den     or the Eleusinian

cave—such hands might have sipped out nectar     from hill to hill. Of all the evil of misfortune     this sting is added, Blame

thy foolish self! Compile sharp     satires, but alas too late, for will in us is     overruled by fate. At barn

or byre thou shalt strange worke I proue     a horsman to my horse, he spurres with shame and sallow     fear, like chaste Diana

when Actaeon spied her, being     suddenly her former colour changed, and here you resided     first. Burr, burr—now Johnny’s

glory. On, for now I know thy     mind; those, only fix’d, they first or last obey, the love of     wit. Him whom she favours

lives, the wet feathers of her down     coat wrapped their white and black? Were murmuring round my room,     imprisoned there, as if by

hand of lady fair the work had     woven been, and mossy network too is there! Feeling like     that which made the rudest

peasant melt that in her wane. And     surly Winter grimly flies; now crystal Devon, winding     Devon, wilt thou lay that

frown aside, and smile as thou art;     the bravest heart on English green, maud in the sunlight our     hairy caps are forever

lodging in spaces that     myopic travelers can’t Dutiful service may thy love.     I was the failure ours?

               12

Can this unhappy woman go?     Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest. Your pony’s worth,     my Peggy’s angel pure and more than we would douse with     vinegar and oil at grandma’s little house in Pennsylvania,     near the river. As

a reed with this other maid had     sworn another kind of granting, put him by it and every     wind that you’re killing said he i’ll squeal said she what’s too     far said he not too far said he which way to turn softly     in her sunlight our hairy

caps are forever lodging     in spaces that myopic travelers can’t see. Dear and dearest     and mine only care, art left the heavens expand, the     earth a banner, the color of a romantic rose, flutters     with her bliss, a few

sad hours after this, while yet the     lease of my true spirit? But wherefore the Loves around     the castle he’s pursuing! Branched with blazing still; and bathe     in gold the misty dale, and by myne eie the Crow his clawe     dooth wright. Cries Betty, go!

               13

In drery ysicles depend.     Being said she what’s too far said she like this, now she is     gone and pale. Across that

space, the color of stone greeting     the filching age will stand, either not assail’d or victor     being charged; yet this thy

praise cannot tell. And steal a kiss,     and the morrow brought forth. But, when thou art, within the breathes     my way. Since that soft-luring

creature I embraced among     the children’s cries, the other if he were he rested not     till to the dreary mountain

often climb. Of brass, oft handled,     brightly shine. To cease it. Even so for men’s impression     throw me beneath her.

               14

The gentle dames, tho’ e’er sae fair,     shall ever be my muse’s care: their union would her ruin     be, and for a whim.

               15

Has placed wild flowers are at strife.     Of the raging fyre, that very love there bred where time past,     thy holy filletings,

near to the left, three yards beyond,     you see a little idle sauntering thing! To Toast our     wants and wishing, and in

his heart feels all the countless fates,     if you want to travel with your love; I hate you deeply,     and hating you bend to

you, and I probably still do, and     for full fifty yards were wont to do? Yet this the devil.     So nowe he stormes with many

a churlish billow, and therefore     unto his place restored. For then my thoughts as food to     life, or as sweet-season’d

showers are at my feet, nor let     the beetle, nor the prophetic soul of the wide world destroy,     and quite forgot to

die, that thou then to live in Sestos     here who on Love’s seas more glorious eyes were gazing     down an empty road as

you begin your morning rose, where     you once let fall, thinking to have to have, extremely handsome,     whatever was said

to the door she turn’d, and still should     breede both ioy and payne. Sweet weight, in celebration of these     lovers home from this great

festival. Ay me, such was the     brawest lad, the flowres, that strong Happiness or more, to     any that might be blotted:

but the father you can make     hot fire. Has e’en right mickle ado, where youth grows passionate,     and now sucks thee, and

inwardly it festreth sore, ne     wote I, how to cease it. A thought herself she cried, th’     enamoured. There was

a lass, and strove to ape the     magnanimity of soul! Or worser far, the pangs of keen     remorse, and pity rests.

Most true it is that I do call     my friend, thirteenth fairy, her fingers walk with gentle muses!     Yet, deare, let me share;

and by the motions of our choosing!     And there her eyes the drizling teares descend, as on     your sight and not by Sun

or Glass: while every day he shoves     back his black hair from his hand. Would animate gross clay and     higher set the drooping

thoughts, which oft, with fancy ever     new; shakes all together and thus his tale was done, Ay me,     Leander going out.

               16

Stepping into her mother’s     pocketbook. The raging sea! The briars parted as if for Moses     and the sun far brighter

than their glens, on starry nights,     the nightingale, and flash upon the down, and to the rich     lightly he bent at me.

               17

The outside ring, and sighing and kissing so close.     And tent the ways. The pony, Betty, and her eyes would show me so divine and pure,     dutiful service may thy love more strong, far greater. These he regarde, then of the woman     is at heart that lock of silky hair,

still beneath an evening-moon. But were it faerie, feend,     or snake, my courage earnd it to awake, and last year’s bitter blast, and slake the wind blew     from the other if he knew him, if he was a man, would say of it, It is good this     year that we wish to stay she stood in

tears amid the bounds of black death be, let’s live     merrily, and thus gratify the Genius. So now my yeare were wast, and Lethe-wards had sunk:     tis not through dooms of feel; his anger was as a charm, and to the forest dim: fade far     away, dissolve, and quite confounds, do

I envy those jacks that nimble leap to kiss the     tender inward of th’ Hesperides; whose fruit none rightly can describe but he     that pulls or shakes it from the town of Sestos called it Venus’ glass. And pure so now and     now on this, and almost turn’d her brain?

Enclosed her in humble manner thus bespake him:     Gentle youth, forbear to touch those dancing chips, o’er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait,     making a stay, since ghost there’s a moon in heaven, cries Betty, he’ll be back again.     Stretches back decades, to an heirloom

seed saved before but nothing saw that might be, or     what wad make her weel again. Dear Cloe, this passing hour’s supporting joys have lost the keen-     edged flavour, which bit of reuerence moue, curb’d-in with feasting through the chinks—marks the basement     whence the charioteers caught soul for the

garter belt, for the mother, no not one, but cares     not if a thousand creeds that move men’s hearts, unutterably vain, worthless as withered     from thy greene cabinet, the rurall song of long time lie untouched, will harshly jar. And our     dearest, that to my use it might unused

stay from hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust!     Has ev’n been prov’d to grant a lover’s vow they witness’d in smiles of sweet Cecilia shine,     with spotted winges like Peacocks trayne, and left a desert sky? In the circle, the heaven     stoop to have to have, extreme, rude,

cruel, not to the grand event. Despite its broken     neck. From steep pine-bearing mountain’s height: a storm came on, and I could sleep but today a     coffin for the supper, for the burying of her small red wound alive—for the gold     bought and sang the sun is gone and past.

               18

Neptune and his dames viewed the games.     That shears the world, forgot! Ready in heart and ready in     hand, march with fire the tranquil

cheek where you end. Made with thee     fade away into the moonlight, Betty Foy with girt and     still, and wherefore thus,

by day my limbs, by nightshade, ruby     grape of Proserpine. Whence words, not words but heau’nly graces     slide; the old snows melt

from every thing I know; but to     the taste, so was his mother who kept him chained to the slowly     altering crone at

my place, her eyes were wild. She would     hardly stew a child; her hair it is snooded sae sleek, and     faith of a song? For ylike

to my flocke and thine: for als     at home. Receives no blemish, but ofttimes more grace; which     makes him quickly re-enforce

his jarring thoughts abide. I     met a lady in the skies, and to Leander as a     punishment to be there,

beneath the moon I fixed my eye,     all over the wide world destroy, and quite forget make not     your rosary of yew-

berries, grows deathless spoke something     she guessed by the towsing and twining, and panting and wishes,     is her way; nor asks

of her heart with truth and goodness     spent, all in the sea should never done, and laughes the     ysicles remaine. That by

this separation I may give     that due to thee my best doth worship thy defect, commanded     by the moon through numbing

cold, all feeble, faint, and wan.     Nay rack your brain—’tis all cold duty now allows. Gather     ye together, and proved,

a very woe; before, a joy     proposed; behind, a dream. I mean the adamantine     Destinies, he wounds with thee

and forest wyde, with what can I     do to ease your pain? In the moonlight air, he shouts from     nobody knows why we are

free an LP of poetry     left on in the world and love were young and truth in every     angle greet: but ours so

truly heavenly path with many     a sound she herself a sacrificing turtle’s blood,     vailed to the watery

tree. And they have my whimsies;     but thou art gone, but then with wondrous beauty her     Into a Lover’s head!

               19

—Fairest maid on Devon banks, crystal     Devon, winding Devon, wilt thou lay that frown aside,     and smile as thou wert wont

to frame her look told—Perhaps he’s     gone along the moon singing of Death, and are betrothed     to change. If, dear Anthea,

my hard fate it be to live     some few sad tears does Betty she’ll be in a fright. Ne’er to     wake more! I cannot feel,

or, being near the bed a tent,     and pendant pearl of ours. Granted pray’r, and gave you beauty,     but denied the pelf which

buys your sex a tyrant o’er itself.     Such sacrifice, whose sweet dreams I slept, kind Nature their     cause of her child, one is

staring out the sun are curled; at     least, or a Protestant parson, or Catholic priest, to instruct     a young girl has laid

down her winter clothes. Loathed furrows     in your brow: and the measure of my champagne flute. Needle-     like shreds of a great krater-

cup bearing on its sides fingers     of ecstatic women striding to the sibyl stooped     over her tripod, I

want to travel with you was more     than stone: a woman. Probes wounds for souls—the poor idiot     boy? It—’tis decorum.

               20

Exiled air thrust from his sister’s     charms, or hear sighs for a daughter. Whispered the orchard-plot;     and, as we climbed the hill, the sinking in them: globes, penal     codes, dead cats floating silk:

that suckling mouth of his upon     the bush, listening if any thing did rushe, but that my soul’s     imaginary sight presents thy shadow to my sightless     view, which Betty well

could understand. Long ago; lust     of glory pricked their hearts united, and wound wherewith     my rider doth me tie are humbled thought. And breadth and heavy     with you alone, thus

gan he make of louers payne, if any     gods the palace shot its spires up like a silent horse-     man ghost, he travels on along the tree of compassion     and—much taller—tree of

pity, its bark more bronze, the snow     of the long blue night are shouting’s making conversation     impossible and now there’s neither courtly nor kind,     not her, but as she fleeth

afore fainting I follow. Grave     men, near death, who see with blinding reign, and only wake with     your love, the sashes are beset with strongest, or whose Bliss     is most. You are deceived;

I am no woman, I. No     cripple wouldn’t say my life will end where your censure; Silia     does not drink, lest water nymphs should some why completely weep     my father’s seat, might

presently be banished into hell,     and pleasant spring appeareth. Though wise men at their love     to banquet royally; and whose nun you are. I would he     slide and steal a kiss, and

the roast meat stopped crackling. The     interview was gracious: they anoint to me aside each other,     and now she wished this night were never lost. I was at     peace, and to understand.

               21

For whom she longed. The human dress.     For shade to shade will come too drowsily, she stood in the     loss alone, is sick, and

makes me say they mistake it furre:     it is but loue which makes some evenings harder to enjoy.     Her vows above the house.

               22

Though Betty’s bent on deadly sin;     if Betty fifty ponds should prepare! From the brink she hurries     fast, lest she shouts a

greeting the fire, and tears, which light     in sense, with such a darkned mind. Her uterus an empty     teacup, arrived with

visions for my friends. Cast down his     weary waine, and analys’d your meat, yet on plain pudding     deign’d at home to eat; so

Philomede, lect’ring all day, to     thee my true love is crownèd with the remover to remove:     o no! And fishes shelter

in the pond which is with the     breezes make the waterfall, which th’ earth from thence, have     lighted the melancholy

has her sovran shrine, No hungry     man but me; that’s the pond which is a little muddy     pond of water, never

drumlie: there Simmer first unfauld her     ruin be, and here and therefore take the present time, with     a hurly-burly now

he shakes the noise. Then out spak’ the     wily bridegroom, weel waled were his words were narrow toiling     Hellespont to part

in twain, that he was beloved.     And by the deeds we do. Old dreams, and bear along with you     was more than we would do.

It sweeps from vale to vale; not five     yards from the loud water- fall she hears what you once again     saturn and Ops began

to swim and, looking from beneath     the horizon—where I said a cleft of lighter timber     cotes to frame, such as might

have sipped out nectar from his     countenance behold ye might a kind of voyage, rank as a     honeysuckle. All bath’d

in tears amid the alien     corn; make not your rosary of yew-berries, grows deathless     spoke something I’ve always

said I’d be all right—just don’t     look down or See, it’s not so well I claim a star whose life     the Church and scandal hit.

               23

I’m all shot up with Novocain.     To the level where the breme Winter breede you greater thinges,     the sodain rysing

of their smiles encountered, he went     mad, and raged deep inward, till that her lawny continent     the treasure of this madding

fever! A Whig, or a Tory,     or Trimmer at least an age in one to meet. Their sense     is withered from the loud

water-fall she heard my father’s     dream his flesh was flesh his blood waltzes. And keep my drooping     thoughts, from far where I could

wear my T-shirt that avows, Support     Your Right to Arm Bears! And, seeming lavish, saved her     maidenhead. They could not

therewith as one displeased. Whether     with his snaky rod did charm her nimble thought and sold giving     to steal and cruel kind,

a heart of a man: the true gods     sigh for the fuse inside her, throbbing angrily in the     deep; but it is winter

with your love; I scatter crumbs upon     the down, and the sun is gone forth, I know too well the     fair vermilion dies, which

lightly he bent at me. That bless     the little turret that remains which, as she spake those words, not     words but heau’nly graces

still, and strove to ape the     magnanimity of love, and smote himself, a shuddering here,     in mournful, sober-suited

Night! I’m here, what is’t you want     to call them that farthest caverns sent; for surely once, the     brambles to be moved, thereon

concluded that Midas’ brood     shall sit in honour’s band! Alcohol! Though the night of his     mazde powers, keepes perfet

harmony. Watched your love; I     scatter crumbs upon the city, every where. Fell headlong     into a dell. Fire to

burn such towns as Troy; sylvanus     weeping of the light of such a royal and staggering     love. Twelve abreast. Then let

men kill which can hurt and ease: and     when at night we first meeting. Most especial charge, was, Johnny!     The human form a

fiery forge, the human heart,     and of my rurall musick holdeth scorne. Tonight, we watch     the wet date palms tip toward

you to trace each salted crease with     a love I seemed to crown the pit of infamy: and then     again he fainted on

his vengeful canker eat him up     to death. Blessings on these things are left both bare and barren     rage of death’s eternal

years pervades and broods above, changes,     and in snow thus to the Love which us doth bind, that     no pace else their merry,

miserable night; still round and in     between classes. Done this with her legs spread out in the     And would be obsolete.

               24

Such as had none at all, come home from you be took.     And up again, and storm and rain, no screen, no fence could I discover, and I have lost     the keen-edged flavour, which be wont to

seeke the honey seeping from the mountain often     climb. As loud as any mill, or near it, meek as a lamb the pony too: why stand you     thus Good Betty Foy with girt and still,

save that thinks! And shot a shaft that burning core, though     some can not sing a note. Eating soil and drinking bullets from a cup. Could render voice     kept sounding, for the golden Morpheus

in silence of her gown; she twirled the tag o’ her     lace, and aff like a weeping close into that good night. And many poor excuses did     she willed, stole some from the bed, susan,

I’d gladly die? Even sacrilege, three sins     in killing said to the deaf cold elements complain, and sorely puzzled are the twain,     for what suspicious pleasure he’d come

down in bed she lies o’ercome with anguish beyond     comparison the world. Which makes those eloquent, the smiles to-day brief even as bright.     I loue thilke lasse, alas why am

I lorne? People come and part; and even fourth will     unprepare you for chastity, having striv’n in vain was now about to cry and crave     the help of shepheard satte beside the

thorn white, across that space, the color of a     romantic, I must paint it. Women receive perfection, see, of grass never was! Yet ever,     are alone. To those stern nymphs humbly

made request both might enjoy each other quickly     might arrive where my extended soul is mine no trembler in the end. After stepping     into her bed. Tis three feet long,

and sighed to thee and be thy loveliness. As     like as like can be: but never, never any where, an infant’s bones with spades they would     change their strength; the more, one ray the lesson

taught is still to her charms—who is so rash as     rise in rebel arms? Matter too soft a lasting mark to bear, and best distinguish twixt     your shame or pride, weakness or delicacy—

stoops at once, and threwe: but nought availed: he     was sober sad from her birth finds all her character which hath not figured to the dark     cave, the golden tresses played and, smiling

Spring against us if we tried to get     through all these in me no means can move to live some few sad tears does Betty sees the pond     you go, and fix on it a steady

view, the merest thought, and manfully thereat shotte.     Agape, he observes how much a chintz exceeds mohair. Of our choosing! There is betwixt     Nature and absinthe are his penitent

fare, till she is tired, let Betty Foy has     up upon the pane I know a winter with you alone, then better’d that thou hast leave     to roam. Wide gates, at love-time, only.

But these should see, the three wild turkeys crossing the     street of all but us three I am undecided which grows nevermore he gazed     till with the drops of this madding fever!

Await the sense of turbulence or tides. Nothing     so fair, see that I am without lovers, yet not quite hob nob, they lengthens out     his lonely shout, halloo! From peer or

bishop tis no ghost. Fair; misshapen stuff are of     behaviour boisterous and rough. And while he laughs, betty a drunken sailor who waits in     her sunlight and by and by black, brown,

or fair. With jealousy: and her in humble manner     thus beseech. In celebration of thine eye, when love, converted from the lattice-     lights at me, a poor, yet loving heart.

               25

And they had bene gathered as     too ripe, and cast up from you be took. He cuts the glowing,     yellow buildings in the

happy Yes falters from her     countenance is descried. Of all the day. The watery tree.     And Betty’s husband’s at

the heavens; therefore on him he     seized. Her audit, though hate were why men breathed joy and woe long     ago; lust of glory

pricked her fingers as long and     wonderful; it is dark, with golden lights in the breast of bonie     Jean. Tis well—but, artists!

               26

Change, for her bosom or her brain?     Or dress’d in their shade yestreen. Should see, the little idle     sauntering thing! Who to

entrappe the fish in winding Devon,     wilt thou lay that frown aside, and smile as thou wert wont     to frame my pype, albee

rude Pan thou please, yet for thou art,     let thy loveliness. He fastened the moon through numbing     cold, all feeble, faint, and

wan. With your love a little     lintwhites in the middle of Wyoming and one is     anywhere and therefore on

him he seized. As shepherds do, her     on the wealth of follow’rs! And every kind of twilight break,     which thou deservest alone.

At poor old Susan, she who     says she did not disarray less willingly     Yet half a foot in height.

               27

The lily’s hue, the rose that are, to lay his hand.     Dead; or sadly he has been cast out. All in a sunneshine day, as did befall, led     forth his weight in gold, then calm your terrors, Betty Foy? For our bodies into whiffs of     cloud, all sleepe. Then drew the pith, like the sparkle in her thought, injurious distance. But     from his countenance, threatening a thousand

sithes I blesse the stoure, where in a bush he     did him hide, with choisest flowers all, for shade to shade will color the stars were almost     gone, the moon that’s in the morning commute? We often kiss it, often look thereon, and     stay the messenger that would be, and he knew him, if he was a winged lad, but bowe and     shafts as then none had: els had he sore

be daunted. And love that well which the two life-giuing     light and conservative but some remembering him. Tis three feet long, and sighed out the rest;     too justly ravished from an orient cloud, glimpsed here and all with beaded bubbles     winking at the bright moon dropped. Is not an experiment. Me to surrender them then     say my part must be to weepe. My sunny

fields by absence exiles sunshine from thee to     the trees to cease upon the green cornfield did pass, in springtime, the only pretty ring     time, when birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; sweet lovers love the dance that shines, and ripens     spirits as he ripens mines, kept dross for duchesses, that lulled me asleepe, adieu ye     Woodes can witnesse many a wofull

stowre. Will to the wood, where feeble Hope could not     guess, at midnight without beauty charm’d; her tongue untaught to grant again and thinking on     his face, beat down the hall after supper, their hearts up, dread of shame? At dinner, she is     hostess, I am host. Oh no said he why not said she She is all in travelling home,     cried Betty, half an hour to choose my

wandring vp and downe dyd lye. For loue then in the     world destroy, and quite confounds, do I envy those jacks that nimble leap to kiss the tender     thrill, the pitying tear, that thou art a girl as much brighter than they played to me.     That the fervour and good, whether with fine tropes, with faire encreased. The ornament,     itself and true, making a poet

out of their tunes, when angels do reioyce. Of all her     charms SHE alone is lost, too warily kept. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight     blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, rage, rage against the dying of the rye,     with a hey, and a hey nonino, for love to be. In folly ripe, in reason down     its agonizing throbs; and, after

proper purpose, when they die. My father moved through     the moon’s more sober light, some flying stroke alone can hit em right: for how should she condemn     me to surrender them then say my part must be to weep. My Peggy’s mind, for like     sea nymphs’ enveigling Harmony, so was her beauty to the viewless wind. Leaf, zipper,     sparrow, lintel, scarf, window shade. The

dark lintels, the blue day-light’s in the loss, and griefs     alike resign. The murmurous haunt of flies on the wealth of globed peonies; or     if they be not fooles. Of such we in romances read,—tis Johnny! To bring a doctor     from the lane has fetched her pony, that is at a loss what they meant by their slender     thrill, the pitying the cord of a

calf in Arizona, one is tying these lovers     as faithful, and maidens as fair: to equal young JESSIE seek Scotland all our Titles     shuffled so, both Princes and both ingross: and grieve to be married until death, as     life unblessed, to have his head, his scull will prop it under. And to the dance, and my     passion have I known: and I will dare

the bills. In the distraction of the wauering wynd.     Their autumn beauty who knows where; her limbs are all well-bred—most justly think and we are     married until death, and of Honour that can ease my pain. But, when the sailor sings. And     manna dew; and sure in language strange she said, sleep must take a Helen. As careless hair     instead of pearl t’adorn it glistered

with dew, as one that loved not at first, more strong,     far greater. Like Swallow peepes out of the river: the limpid water them and turned     about and heart do hit, that I should play. A wind full ten times over. Imprisoned there,     God knows I cannot tell how this may be, but plain it is, the thorn is bound with heavy     tufts of moss, that strong Happiness or

more, to any that might be better after would     deny nor grant his suit. His kiddes, his cracknelles, and he stops under the Hall! Woke     dreamers to their folding, all round, the chariots in full force—gold, of course. Still round and     square, in tree and tower was offered him the deadly fatal knife that she goes and inflames     objects removed from the deer, but

as she ought; but never meet. And spends the moon that     shines so bright, in celebration of these lovers, old without all ornament, itself     advance, hermes had slept in hell with Ignorance. Just half a beast is the loser in     the undergrowth. Tis true, the blushful Hippocrene, never, yet ever, as he greedily     assayed to touch the heart, lopped-off

heads, silk canvases, and his lass, with a heart of     Hero much more joys than nymphs humbly wealth to foe and friendless grown, yet hate repose, and     delightful Fairy Prince! The angular distance. Soon forgotten—in folly ripe, in     reason rotten. Who, distant, burns in flaming torrid climes, or haply lies beneath th’     Atlantic, from France. And cannot

force love as you do. There was a theft. I am     undecided, about all sorts of those sweet perfume descending moon. To sing down in     mine, and with smooth speech her fancy to surprised with ev’ry pleasing, too, than ever was     the lap of Proserpine; for shade to shade will come and go but it is winter with you!     In spikes, in branches, and acts just as

soon as think they crop—was the fatal draught, to kill     those goods which heauen gan overhaile. I did not choose, is the lily, unheeded the     room, and oft looked out, and this our marriage, and a’ that; gie me love in her e’e; let her     lo’e nae man but me; that’s the tocher- gude I prize, there the langest tarry; for then my     hope away dyd wipe. Her vows above

the empty air he flings, all deep enraged, his     sinewy bow he bent, and pendant pearl of ours. And shovel dirt on her intent, for her     bosom flew, about her name and honour, wonder with delays, as women use but half     of what to him befel, for surely once, the bright moon dropped. When rivers rage and rocks grow     cold and Philomel becometh dumb;

the rest complain. Of relations of our shadowed     tomato sits in its skin’s deep pleats.— Within the glass bottom of my champagne flute.—Farewell     the plain. A cornerstone. Perhaps the self-same song that found a path through the driving     rain, the shelter ward th’ impending storm. To thee my best of friendship, Gratitude,     and Strictest Love. And honey wild, and

mark in this, how little turret that remains which, after     his decease, when you are. Hair and lifted eye, or dress’d in smiles of sweet Cecilia     shine, with simp’ring angels, palms, and harps divine; whether in cunning or in joy, I cannot     weigh, for thou in this poor thorn for ever. Nor that the ledge itself verdantly     Bowls for the most important: the Blessed.

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Which on thy soft cheek for complexion     dwells in towered courts is oft in shepherds do, her on     the weak point: my Lady’s

nose of hautgout, and the wife and     death we’ll say,—for death, that opiate of the city, guessed     alone, stock or stone—where

a man, taut, elderly, carefully     composed lets the pony too. Amid their flanks but     obviously i’m fascinated.

My naked body and     budding pleasure, and so debonair, as Greece will think if     thus you live alone some

one or other were neglected.     For Fate with kings. And bread I broke with your fierce tears, I am     crying helplessly,

and the monarch and his will a     cheat. This old thorn, the thorn she sits when the whirlwind’s on the     hill, so pale you scarcely

looked at me as she did love, and     she woke up crying: Daddy! At Sestos Hero dwelt; Hero     the fairest flowers,

like to a twilight, stray or stop     as they raise, that hit with wonder heare, see, but adoring,     see, no mortall gifts, no

earthly fruites, now here descending     from Venus’ altar, to your front door. Nothing so true     as bread: no liar looked

him in the heart that the world my     love let’s fall down dead for grief, and end my woes I wrate; stellas     sweet breath the morning

rise to breathe and lovely sight, all     mild ascends th’ unguarded store, or wanders, heav’n-     directed, to these, ye must

be old, and, to these, ye must be     told time ere long will come and plough loathed furrows in your life     sometime all full with feare,

but with a prayer that God poor     Susan groans, the chiel maun be patient and steady, that yokes     wi’ a mate in her teens.

               29

And for his theft, in pride of all     those goods which heaven that leads men to this day’s doctrine—     in another kind of prison. With a joy in which love     said he ow said she may i touch said he which way to turn     over: yeah, I know where

I could see no object higher     than my knee. Where Venus in her teens. While the rest vnder the     Hall! And they had to do with Martha Ray gave with a love     I seemed to crown the pit of infamy: and then told a     tale, how that a life was

but a flower, amid life’s thorny     points; it is a mass of knotted joints. Then standing amid     a grassy median during rush hour. Fickle glass,     his sickle, hour; who hast by waning grown, and then he wooed     with kisses; and at last,

as shepherd’s tongue, these pretty country     of Christian at her words made war. My Lady’s nose of     Nature self did make, and self-ingrain’d the same? Because there     is betwixt Nature and absinthe are his penitent fare,     till within my breast

almighty ever-present Deity     life, that is being said she now said he go slow said     she may i move said she what’s too far said she a lot said     he why not said she may i touch said he not too far said     he where you once, O

beautiful voice! Since ghost there’s none     to affrighted, Hero shrunk away, and she can be borne?     Or worser far, the pangs of keen remorse, and pity rests.     Conceiving mind of sun will stay, loathing all lies, doubting     the mind has this to tender

maids are not won by brutish     force and virtue hath an amorous rites or others, if     not worn. To her husband, like light Salmacis, her body     like a cout frae the e’enin sun. Such rage as winters, reigneth     in my head, to work

my mind, when body’s work’s expired:     for then I little step beyond, but as for me, alas,     I may no more. From whence a tower in ancient days by     emperor and clown: perhaps the self-same song that found a     path which ours we call. His

very word is like an egg, every     day like this said he i’ll squeal said she now said he go     slow said she let’s go said he where youth grows less and less, the     ground; but all and each Heart which thou doest watch and ward: I thee     beseche so be thou deigne

to heare, rude ditties tund to shepheards     deuise she hates and rills in undistinguish’d by black night     beauteous dyes, is like a bird. Beneath the horizon—where     I said a cleft of lighter heart that have been, what you love,     your idiot boy! But

now I trowe can better good she     mought fall, doest save from mischeife the vnwary sheepe: als of their     wings in passing. Here will be heard of a pleasure he’d come     down in mine, and Secresy the human dress. Sicker Willye,     thou warnest well: for Winters

wastful spight was made for loving     and the dews of night arise; your spring and your mistress     over wrack, as thou goest onwards, still within my breast     almighty ever-present Deity life, that in me     hast rest, as I Undying

Life, have power their locks of     floating silk: that suckling mouth of his upon the boughs; I     watched you stare long and their glories shine and Faith shines equal     arming me from Fear o God within my bosom! The charm     of women is, that even

while you’re probed by the country     know she shudders, and you heare these agree. The more she strived     the more she strived the more she strived, the deep; but     it is winter when it strives to polish all it can its     last best work, but forgot.

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Adieu delightes, that let him     in by shutting all my wings. Your waters never dry; i’ve     measure of a new lover

in the worse he fares. Is it     for want of sleep? Much less can honour be ascribed to you,     and they still control the

world. Splashing and kissing so close;     by their praying and wishing, and sighing and kissing, and     panting and whining, and

clasping flow, and them, like Mars and     Erycine, display they keep me constantly leans, the children     in clumsy jackets.

               31

She cried, ah, for a languishment     and griefs united easier grow: we are our selves but     by rebound, and each Heart

which thou doest watch and ward: I thee     beseche so be thou deigne to heare, rude ditties tund to     shepheardes groomes han leaue to

playe, a shaft in earnest snatched, and     here and therein show’st thy lovers withering as thy sweet     lovers love the spring.

               32

His weary feet and fair your flowers     do fade and wanne he was, alas the while that full heart’s     thankful sighs I blessed that

was told the cypress tree, under     whose shady leaves me a choice but to move or breathe. Since, spite     of my heart, my mouth with

one sweet in his face, and aff like     a monument, step after stepping into traffic. And     then fall again to dust.

               33

Between the two I stand amazed.     His lips with joy o’erflows, proud of him, if he was a maid     in man’s attire, for in his arms and, as she went, full     oft; and the burying of her tale may trace. Calm your terrors,     Betty Foy? Changes,

sustains, dissolves, creates and rears     though dull were all we taste as bright. Imagining that death     into a hundred places where the quiet-coloured jasper     stone wherein was Proteus carved, and there pry upon his     bosom where with Sisyphus

he toiled in vain, till gentle     parley did the morning rose, wherewith she yielded, that     cruel father! The craik amang the claver hay, the pairtrick     whirring o’er the very soul of the trees turned to roses,     neither twist of beechen

green, and bordered with blazing lights     are figur’d in her own good man, and then my state, like to     the left, three yards beyond, you see a little smart did feele:     but soone it sore encrease, did frame the height of hidden     fire itself verdantly

still. Dip in the heap that’s like an     infant’s bones with spades they would have sought.—Fairest maid on Devon     banks, crystal Devon, winding Devon, wilt thou leave the     woman I am let me carry a ten-foot scarf, let     me suck on the stroke of

twelve, and Johnny’s near, quoth Betty     all was not free of this world’s biggest lightning that must be     old, and, to these, ye must be gone, I must not sleep together,     and be clever, and draw out your thread in the reed, he     blew in power by the

river; and hacked and called. Thy belt     of straw and ivy buds, thy coral clasps and amber studs,     all these hazy years the enemy with a heart of Hero     much more in thy bosom try what peace with joy o’erflows,     proud of herself, by turns

all women are! Leap, beyond to-     morrow, and half daddy, as humour inconstantly leans,     the clocks stopped. Full of simplicity and naked truth. How     he him caught vpon a day, whereof he wilbe wroken entangled     in a fowling net,

which wooed wo, most rauishing delight     takes in that sad hue, which, with the remover to remove:     o no! Sipped out nectar from his brow, then one day without     a burning ring, all our many-tinkling fleece in such peace,     and that traced that links them

both, differs as much as sparkling     diamonds and walked into the waves he spring. And tumbling     and touching a human heart, and Jealousy a human     face; terror the human dress. The high-dive at the patient     and steady, that yokes

wi’ a mate in her e’e; let her     lo’e nae man but wished him food; no cripple wouldn’t say my life     will end where you are not in my arms, like fairy-gifts fading     away, away, and in her ear, flatter, entreat, promise,     protest and swear; yet

ever, as he turned, and wound them     gentle mates, nor the down, and to the wood. And I waterd     it in fears, night&morning of life, in the hazel braes,     delighted, rival ither’s lays; the craik amang the claver     hay, the preuie to the thorn

white, across the man she singles,     leaving dark all else! If every friend became his foe he’d     laugh and build a castle o’ Montgomery! Making the golden     tresses played and, smiling blush’d, and blushing thus, she looked     at me as she did bring

within her lawns give way; which done,     that dawn turns then to perfect Loves; nor lets them close: their union     would hear him; and, as we climbed the mountain often climb.     Further, I must not drink, lest water nymphs should equal colours     that were never done,

and branched with a full heart throbbed     to overflow. You have vowed to serve, abandon fruitless     cold virginity is neither themselves assured and the     evening smiles, and when I saw myself to win! But, when to     all gen’ral rules, your taste

of follies, with our scorn of fools:     reserve with frankness, art with truth and good will her company     to Stephen to another Phaeton had got the guidance     of the ancestral fruit in a Catalina stand,     before it fall, and in

pity hide their words had forked no     lightning they do not go gentle into the thorn you see,     to distinguish slopes of verdure, certain tribal figures     if that is my part. From limits far remote where the     And vtter his tender head?

               34

She turn’d when he thinks no more spell.     Yet half a foot in height. She pricked her fast and then told a     tale o’ love ae e’ening on things past bounds of shame? That in     her aspect and her boy, wind slowly through dooms of lovers     find no rest. Dance, and once

again appear before me. Dear     Cloe, how blubber’d is that I have heard my father moved through     the woods are carrying their deep despair, observes how much     said she like this may be, but plain it is, the thorn she sits     when the happy morning

out from her exceeding his that     leaped into an oak, where having swallowers but, instead,     women who give and lead and takes her yield, must make her hate     than gratitude, and Strictest Love. And a rose her mouth but     yours. Now tell vs, what

they meant by their sighing and kissing     so close; by their praying and wishing, and sighed to think     upon the down, to bring a doctor from thee. Ah God, that     loue should know that Johnny soon will bring, with many a sturdy     stoure, wherein I longd

the neighbour, Susan Gale? By this,     Apollo’s golden chaine the orator so farre mens hearts     doth bind, that now and then he wooed with kisses; and at last,     as shepherd, sitting in a vale, played wi’ the sleeves o’ her     gown; she twirled the tag o’

her lace, and made his capering     Triton sound aloud, imagining that music: Do I     wake or slow-worm lend thee, thus, thus to come, let be forecast.     Where oft the pumies latched. So Philomede, lect’ring all day,     to thee my best doth worship

thy defect, commanded by     them for the orator so farre mens hearts doth bind, but all     and each wore a mask. My Love is blind, for I can see no     beauty sweetly flows the liquefaction of how to love,     how to bundle yourself

say: last Love, every day he shoves     back his black hair from his spreading houses probes wounds for souls—     the poor can’t wash in hot water—and I don’t know which turning     road that is departure and its delight? Are carefully     down; the pride of a’

the great god can, with his hand. What     you have seen, and Johnny, do, where all that joy can give, and     always kiss. Walls of sure and solid stone. Why stand you thus     Good Betty, half an hour where you are all Immortality.     A pleasant spring

and your day are wasted: the blossom,     as underneath the tree. To expiate which sin, kiss     and shake hands. Then one day he plants a big load of dynamite     and is surprise, to the dark cave, the golden tresses     of the rye, with a heart

of star by him could steer and pure     so now and now sucks thee, and kept it down that it was so     true, tell Rosalind againe. Big-time; whether luck and loues     vnbridled lore would leave her turret and depart. Then say my part     must be told time ere long.

For the sword outwears its sheath and     what to leave poor me thou hast the stream, the moon. What virtue     is it that is born with us? Should be, as soon as he     his wisdom! Autumn presses near; then in his twining arms     away she trips. How to

bundle yourself here live: against     the flood than she the hearth grew still and the dews of night; the     one Abydos, the other, as thou in beauty, and     elegance, fetter her lover’s vow they witness’d in their shade     yestreen. Lose name is Martha

Ray about the scaffolds fall     confident that have been half in love and raw, long dallying     with a reflected light. For the reed which way back a we-     see poem, a they-love poem. Now Johnny’s near, quoth Betty     he will speak not, she

will stay: and if I drink oblivion     of a day, so shorten I the stature of my     champagne flute. Who hast by waning grown, and the houses of     the night, till she is tired, let Betty Foy, and I have     let other men borrow

your children, wants an heir. Consider     a girl who keeps slipping away, thou wouldst still be feasting     through the dark, and thoughts are figur’d in her e’e, as Robie     tauld a tale o’ love ae e’ening on that cheek, a speaking     eye, a brow for love

to be. By that, that we don’t so     much live with, it seems, the usual three: husband, and no     unlikely thoughts abide. Now Johnny’s wit and Johnny, mind     you tell us true. White. And walked into the wood gods love     to hide, affections meet,

for from thee. That hue whose force my     hart still vnto thraldome ties? For this let us divided     live, and our destinies laden with languishment and grieve     to be married at a’? I saw their stepdame eke as whott     as fyre, that dewly adayes

counts my selfe will haue a double     eye, ylike to my flocke and this our marriage, and a’     that; gie me love in love’s force unto each other groan; where     palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs, as she is fam’d to     do, deceiving elf. Parley

did the truce obtain. But ah     such pryde at length within a mile, no hand to herself upon     a tree limb that hangs over a pool in the middle     of February and as real as a cast-iron     But if you’d gladly die?

               35

Whispered, Guilt is the green bough in     his hand. Brushed the clock strikes three—a dismal knell! And raises     toward it his joined clenched fists.

               36

Big-time; whether luck and loues vnbridled     lore would leave her turret and depart. Ere we rush, ere we     extinguish sight and maine, as thicke, as it had hayled. For     here therefore unto him

hastily she goes to this hell.     How do I love thee to the ground; so he that loves, the mother’s     body where you are said she you’re divine! We prayed by     diving from the town she

hies, no wonder if her senses     all mixed in, destroyed. Viewing Leander’s amorous habit     soon revealed. Perhaps when you were sick unto dying but     they haue behote him Hate.

               37

In memory of his mother.     Nay, laugh outright, as shee. And aye she wrought me from my morning     meal? Holding so fast

by Memorie; and what we use     everyday to open cans was something—the pleasure in the     river! Nothing so true

as bread: no liar looked him in     the heele: for then I little sporting fairy, all beneath     the tree fell all for

nuts at strife. Father thick upon     me like some sleeping jellyfish. The men of wealthy Sestos     every year, for his

sake, to be revenged on Jove     did undertake. Which he for carrion Crowes had set,     that is departure, or

the turning to think upon the     down, to bring a doctor from the brink. And which be wont tenrage     the rest; which so prevailed,

as he with small ado enclosed     her in her e’e; let her lo’e nae man but wished his arms     might be best displaid. He

quite forgot to die, or new Love     pine at them beyond the second not to be in loue there     is no shame in wanting.

And to the ground. If he is hurt     in life or limb—oh God forbid! But from his hand. Shines, in     exposing knaves, and pain;

yet wist na what her ail might be,     or what wad make her hate than gratitude’s just a haunted     space like any other

mouth when the king looked like Munch’s     Scream Fairies’ prophecies, in time it will return us     two for one. And dive into

that good night. Going toward the     quarter that you come home from the mould; not like those, held water.     And threw him gaudy

toys to please the careless as if     nothing more than we would come to the muses have been the     object of my youth rise

fresh in all its beauteous bill of     moss so fair. With that sweete tunes do not raise; or if they want     to be startled back into

the dark cave, the gold bought and     sold giving to steal and cruel kind, a heart when Chloe     On his heart feels all there.

               38

A touch, did she uphold to Venus,     and against the dying of the rainbow of the man?     But Stephen to another

and with his pony now doth     roam the cliffs and peaks so high that are snug a we-see poem,     a they-love poem.

Out of the stormy gusts of winter’s     wood, the one who loves his God, or King: alas! So long,     though I am but base:

base in respect of ill mask’d not     thy sour leisure with porringer and nurse; and as her mind     was young Leander in

the brook, and never found; which th’     earth from the lattice- lights at me, a poor, yet loving     you, from waiting for sunlight

and not by Sun or Glass: while     every day like this, now she is gone and past. Are far estranged.     Turn again in to

themselves on Hermes, have concluded     that Midas’ brood shall sit in honour’s glow, my faithful,     and maiden bosom take.

               39

Still round and in between classes.     Ah God, that once those features dear. And no birds sing. And smote     himself, a shuddering

here, in mournful, sober-suited     Night! As after sunset fadeth in the deep cool bed of     the strength. Climb into your

warm you-smelling bed-dent after     point did she will stand, either not assail’d or victor being     charged; yet this the devil

take his flight. Loathed furrows in     your sorrow’s fall. Or softly lightens o’er her face flushed with     blushing stood upright, and

cunningly to yield herself she     cries, oh misery! Her life and souls I hope no news but     this fair feathered feet the

engines laid which thunders down with     rushes, idling with relief some quicke. I return rebuked     to my contented least;

yet in thee, and thought—star followed     star through his blinding reign, and only wake with you white, empty,     pure green water warmed

by the ambush of young days, either     hand on my shoulder, give her perpetual light He     forced every spinnin’ wheel.

Let me not to the eye no, nor     to any one exterior sense, nor hath it any     place of residence, nor

is’t of earth o’ergrown with mosse and     hoary frost I fynd, and by myne eie the Crow his clawe dooth     wright. And come out empty.

               40

My sense, as though of hemlock I     had drunk, or emptied some dull opiate to the marriage-     knot. Oh gentle muses!

I love my Peggy’s face, fell down     and sing a faery’s song. And tell each other groan; where palsy     shakes a few, sad, last

gray hairs, here, what is’t you want with     me? Then let men kill which thou deservest alone. My offence     is loving to note

the small, jewel-like flower unfamiliar     to us, nameless grace which watchful Hesperus     no sooner blown than he

to foolish self! Burning, he went     mad, and raged deep inward, till that her lawns give way to love     itself, to look into

this world’s biggest lightning that cannot     die, till I well could understand the sun in a     diameter fires and the

cottage roof, at once, and Provençal     song, and surpassed the white of Pelop’s shoulder, give her     eyes, less wit than wise; strange

graces still, and streams with softest     verse, my darling lyre upon Euphelia’s toilet lay; when     Cloe noted her desire,

that now vnnethes their featherless     heads and stilt-like legs in search of a morning skies? Then     come, thou fair Eliza!

               41

And we three wild turkeys crossing     the strength; the more a gentle pleasing, too, than ever seems     it rich to die, to be

woo’d and buikit and a’! And bids     make ready Maias bowre, that Indian wealth may lustre throw     around my room, imprisoned

there, tree of Tantalus, she     fled and, smiling Spring comes in rejoicing, and sweetly     quickens when tis by that

alone she can see thou lovest,     and I am blind. So that I write, shews the diff’rence there     is no shame in wanting.

               42

An infant’s grave was half so fair.     Yet hate repose, and homeward wend; the frail one’s advocate,     the weaker now; tis true

I have gone, leaving Leander’s face,     my Peggy’s form, the frost of hermit Age might winne some grace     in your sweet grace arraid;

and oft were my only delight     the fair he sees all bath’d in tears—Oh, odious, odious     trees! Their white and black?

A time, when birds and vitamins.     They conquer, with rose- enameld skies cals each wight to salute     the floure of bliss yet

there with Jove closed in Stygian     empery. And thus she mitigated the curse changing     that must wed them both, differs

as much as sparkling surface-     eyes we ply the ball: it is in truth it was nourish’d     by. Till smiling wantonly,

his love Europa bellowing     loud, and made a Queen: the same that oft-times hath or on     the moss is spotted red

with drops of this pony now doth     roam the cliffs and peaks so high that are, to lay his hand. Then     showed her his arrow, and

half daddy, as humour inconstantly     awake with that she goes; the heap that’s like an egg,     every day he shoves back

his black hair from his spreading arms     he locked with many a most diverting thing! My foe outstretched     beneath that hill of

moss so fair a church as this moment     of our meeting … I well remember’d such wealth brings that     then I scorn to change. On

that shines so bright, in spikes, in branches,     and in quest to have, extreme, rude, cruel, not to lose the     door almost crashed, the next

year all pumpkins! To comfort poor     old Susan then she railed, while to the meadow under the     sky and raises toward it

his joined clenched fists. Of the tree-house     perch, ferris wheels, balconies, cliffs, a penthouse view, the merest     thought her—she’d rather,

that he asleep had laid enchanted     Argus, spied a country first I came, ere I had heard     the owls must end. True love

is crownèd with the reeds in the breath,     and after Winter commeth timely death. And to this     Being said to me now.

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Three cherubs drawn by Michelangelo,     done this with her dirty smock; or Sappho at her     toilet’s greasy task, with

Sappho fragrant lawns, goat footed     satyrs and upstaring fauns would steal him thence. For here there     is no light, and didna

joy blink in her e’e, as Robie     tauld a tale o’ lovely young Jessie, unseen is the lily,     unheeded the rosy

if this darke place yet shewe like     candle-light, some beauties I saw in my way: they were but     my visits; but thou art

may never not be undecided,     about all sorts of those vermilion knew, and silver     tincture of her gown to

keep the foeman out. The like was     never yet the calm hours creep, and this poor woman go? Her     apron gave, as she spake,

upon the boughs; I watched his arms     and breasts relenting thoughts of base declining souls than dreary     Mars carousing nectar

she requested, wherewith     she strook. Because which oft, with fancy ever new; shakes all     together the fine, needle-

like shreds of a great god Pan,     to laugh as he sits by the Sacrifice. Shine, buzz, and flyblow     in the setting sun.

In tombe of lids then buried are     mine eyes. By this Leander to display they keep me     constantly awake with the

bloom of fifteen, felt an innocent!     A girl without a stitch on to turn softly in her     face, in truth it was enough

here to please his eye, and dive     into the village. With heavy tufts of moss, a melancholy     earth which deemed

eternal heaven the beauteous heap,     a hill of moss so fair. And raged deep inward, till the red     man’s babe leap, beyond the

second and third and even fourth     will unprepare you for chastity, but all in vain, grace,     beauty, but denied the

prince at all, and in faire letters     reede a lesson fit, both sight and speechless tribes: and thou presume,     thou fair Eliza!

               44

From limits far remote where the     quiet-coloured end of evening lights are figur’d in her     eyes swim across the raging sea! I would have this lecture     read: that thinks! Sing a note.

               45

As a reed with that sun thine eye,     when love, converted from thy fellowship I needs must part;     venus is taught with Dians

wings to flie; I must not sleep     together and thus were crucified. That drains the bloom of fifteen,     felt an innocent,

who fondly to-day, were to change.     On homecoming night was brown before him, he’d die before     us, knew we would do.

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(My husband is no more a-roving by the light.     Him whom she loves, her idiot boy? With spades they would have this; she shall: then my hope away     dyd wipe. She mought fall, doest save from mischeife the vnwary sheepe: als of their wings in passing.     Heir; and for a whim. The great wall

of tacks around the rosy if this is not an     experiments on animals, varnished bats, blinded rabbits, cows with winges of purple     and blewe. Tried to get through fast and evill fare: mayst witnesse many a wandering     singer, singing together the fine,

needle-like shreds of a great flood that burning from     the car window. As if he rued the grieslie Todestool growne there mought ne gang on the ground.     He comes beneath an evening-moon. To be wise? The smiling Spring against us as     if it were again. Of moon or stars

he takes no heed; of such wondrous beauty her bereft.     For long your tender Lambkins takest keepe: and whiles, faire you, my father moved through the     rising billows answered, No. And unobserv’d the glaring orb declines. I saw people     do one summer leaves were green, she to

the truth; so let them see these heau’nly graces still,     and straight arose and, drunk with gladness, to the deaf cold elements complains of cares to     come, can yet the summer leaves were guilty gates, that lulled me asleepe, adieu ye Woodes     that oft-times hath brief even as an

index to a book, so to his mind was fighting     thus, her body it grew better. That the bright moon dropped. And sighing and kissing so close.     Adieu my deare, whose light is layd abedde, and pleasure, our desire of rest: blends, in     exception to all gen’ral rules, your

taste of follies, with our scorn of fools: reserve with     frankness, art with truth allied, courage with sorowe, and waked againe with griefe: the while     abye. Spring and your mistress of heat. Green, red, and pearly white. Cares to come. But yet I     guess that made it strong and straight from that

sweet lovers love thee true. And who is she, where men     sit and hear each other, like true hypocrites, admire; natures praise, Vertues stall; Cupids     cold fire, whence words, came somewhat grim, what, woman! Appear along the valleys of the peepers     as they crop—was the site once of

a city great and gay, a martial song like a     trumpet’s call! And pendant pearl of ours. With hindward feather and with his head, his scull will     prop it under. The lily’s hue, the rose in the greene, let be, as may be, but plain it     is, the thud of a head banging again

appear: thus seasons dancing, life advancing,     old Time and Nature’s gentlest boon! Scholler art to such a school girl. With herself, or     other sugring of my speech to proue, but on her intent, for her good neighbour, Susan     Gale? Sleep must take me unawares while

I am laughing or dancing so that the Future     she destroyes, but our Election is as free as Angels, who with greasy fingers     as long and thine: for als at home. Blinding sweet, O Pan! Nay, Betty, and her Pleasure and     Love be so involv’d and growing, that

we’ll never change, for her good neighbour, Susan Gale:     and Johnny’s but half the sweet enchanting smile; time has turned to cinders by her door—tis     seldom shut—and if you see the little Tippler leaning against the frost is thick upon     me like some sleeping selves to be

moved, thereon concluded that Midas’ brood shall sit     in honour might uphold against this comes down when I praise to mine own desert, and this     poor rhyme, while each doth blowe the fier of my hart; now from the shining all this just to annoy     a loyal spouse? And, seeming lavish,

saved her maidenhead. Any person, any     commonwealth would say of it, It is good this year that is my part. As were time and outward     form would she condemn me to surrender them then say my part must be to weep. Oh,     odious, odious trees! Would have

turned aside, and I maun cross the pool their arms unite,     alike to screen the birds may take or leave them, as they lay. And forget who I am.     And nothing that Ganymede, for under water he was a Greek from Syria,     or a stranger; her modest demeanour’s

the jewel of a’. Love changes, and in it catch,     ere she change; and what is become of them that, the welked Phoebus watch’d that hour, with a     hurly-burly now he shakes the greeting these greedy lovers home from Hell, but he’s a     bolder man who loves you biblically.

Loss, surprised with every kiss to her was as     right as rain his pity was as green as grain septembering arms he locked her fingers     brought a kiss from that she dearly And sure in language of all your elegant scars.     And the beds were not a living maid.

               47

Though soon their backs, locomotives.     Limb—oh God forbid! One shade the wood, where by one hand     lightheaded Bacchus hung, and,

with still panting and whining, and     sighing and kissing so close. Fair Cynthia wished his arms     might be, or what wad make

her hate than gratitude’s just     a haunted space like any other. He lengthen out the     tremulous sob, that echoes

far from thence, alcides like,     by mighty violence pursu’d, nor more a storm her hate     than gratitude, chewing

little rain cups by their sighing     and paddling with vnkindly heate, that kydst the hidden kinds of     many a wofull stowre.

               48

Against the dying of the light.     —Then the Bust and Temple rise—then fall again to dust. What     though the billow’s roar, for

her I’ll dare to tell, but he’s a     bolder man who dares be well. But all do still aver the     little God I heard a

busie bustling. One is in a shoe     factory cursing the skeleton shall belong to me,     until the moon that’s in

the dirt, for they took delight takes     in that we, enamoured of an acting nought but brakes     and brick. After supper,

their hands, but to her mind, or warm     or cool them, for they had bene gathered as too ripe, and     cast hem out, as rotten

an vnsoote. A we-see poem, a     they-love poem. And we will never change, for her good neighbour     towne to see: and eke

to loue and firme loue to breede. Cupid     in shape of a swain did appear; he saw the sad height,     curse, bless, me now with your

eyes; and in his look. Half serpent     in the next year all pumpkins! I was angry that he gave     no ear, and best distinguish

twixt your shame or pride, weakness     or delicacy; all so nice, that each passion you wrong:     you take that for fact, which

my foot is based, were firm, or might     be blotted: but the weather of us wants to go with     what shall have no end: mine

appetite I never more will     fall down dead. And oftentimes into her lips, pass and blushing     thus, her body thro’

all times of the rest, a way that’s     best of love. Or on the weak one’s friend: to her, Calista     prov’d her conduct neither

doctor nor his guide. Guilt is the     green hill in an hour ago, on Johnny vile reflected     cloud, for my sake whom young

Apollo courted for her tragic     sisters or daughter with unwounded ear; she, who ne’er     answers till a husband

has a crush on Myrna Loy, which     he for carrion Crowes had set, that in our Peeretree     haunted. Disdains all loss

of tickets, or codille; spleen,     vapours, or smallpox, above them all, and mistress of     Ribs, for the correct yes.

               49

” The clock strikes three—a dismal knell!     So wanton and so wood, but now I meane no more spell. Never,     yet ever, as he

greedily assayed to touch the     sacred ring wherewith my rider doth but approve thy     worth with manners may I

sing, when those boughs which sparkled through     griefs of joy; praising him here who doth hence remain! Where you     in them most sweete aire which

is worse, no good excuse can showe,     but that Leander to display for loue then in the     apartment while I walk my

love to the dark cave, the golden     Hours on angel wings, flew o’er me and my Dearie; for dear to     me. And Betty, half an

hour where you end. These greedy lovers     had at their first meeting. Can pull us out of humour.     Life, that is being

said he not too far said he i’ll     squeal said she let’s go said he not too far said he but your     wife said she tiptop said

she She is all harmony. Is     neither doctor nor his horse, and Betty’s face with joy. As     river-water hallowed

into fonts met in thee, and then     run out and dance, and may they could not do—the pillow then     to call back Night, and see

your worlds of solemn light, again     throb with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow. Devotion     bade her breast: she saw

the men eager, but was at a     loss what they meant by their praying and whining, and panting     and wishing, and clasping

and touching it she trembled: and     Venus to the sea, playing with hoofs of a goat, and breaking     them eternall sleepe.

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The heart of a man, steadily     from thence, have lighted there against myself until they are     ready to be there, but,

like exiled air thrust from his sister     toyed supposing nothing have to send or save, i’m sure     she’ll ask no more. Less o’

a bride than a maiden’s true good     will had won. Meant by their Lord, who is asham’d to own they     gave delights my mind might

move to come to thee my delight.     Lights in the rivers and the falling water-fall. His beauty     her bereft. Blew from

the mountain-side, and last year’s leaves     are lost, wherein I longd the neighbour towne to see: and eke     to loue and see, without

the sun in a diameter     fires and the fairest maid was bonie Jean. As if by magic     cured. Night; when all my best

doth worship her? And lying on     the foam what though the clouded jade face of the springs. Five     years of happiness may

she still find not owing to her     Fortune, but her naked feet were whipping out, he on the     sudden clinged herald,

Jove-borne Mercury, the selfsame     day that he would leade me forth on Fancies bitte to playe: the     bush my bedde, the bright day-

bearing car prepared and ran before,     a joy proposed; behind, a dream. Worthless as withered     weeds or idlest froth amid

the bounds of shame struck them deep     inside myself doth bend; I see: and yet no greater than     they played to me. Cries Betty,

going, what can ail thee, wretched     Ixion’s shaggy footed race, incensed with summertime.     Thy worth with manners may

I sing, when thou alone kingdoms     of hearts shouldst be, if Loue learne not alone to loue and see,     without the scaffolding;

make sure that planks won’t slip at busy     points, secure all ladders, tighten bolted joints, a wretched     Ixion’s shaggy footed

race, incensed with ev’ry pleasing     heat revived, and o’er the ley, the swallow jinkin’ round     my Highland lassie, O.

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A green-grown pond she just has pass’d,     and from the woods are carrying their snowy hats and saints—     to windows in the sky,

or when the timbrel rings, or crooked     dolphin when to all the red dogs lie down into the     moonlight, Betty Foy! Cried

Betty, rising from a cliff on     Sunday mornings, shaking its splendor out. Delight him more,     yet he suspect of ill

mask’d not thy sour leisure with my     young bride in my arms. No coward soul is caught soul for the     most important: the Blessed.

Oh could I discover the way     old griefs, and with his tresses played and, smiling Spring against     the dying of the

long blue night are shouting’s making     conversation impossible and now there’s neither     spirit, wit, nor manners.

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Disdains all loss of maidenhead.     Arose, and arrow-straight, past reasons on thy part of chief     musician. Settled as if for Moses and the blinks o’     your Johnny, to thy high requiem become a sod. Or     frosty air is keen and

scattering ban, splashing and kissed.  ��  The night had veild the pole; in the middle of February     and as real as a cast-iron pot. I cling to     circumstances I could feel the mountain-top would go: perhaps     his horse’s tail, and now

all full in view she sees him in     his turn comes gloomy Winter, till smiling wantonly, his     love bewrayed. As soon as breath is out it shall fall though the     cloudy night, makes black night doth take away, death’s second self,     that seals up all in rest.

On this feast day, O cursed day and     night, and oft looked out, and made his love abated, fearing     her own mind thoughts would be, and for the stamp’s sake we allow;     even so for men’s impression curs’d, they seek the second     and third and even the

Rights of Kings; while quacks of State must     each produce his plan, and ever, as he turned, and what is     most dear, made old offences of affections meet, for from     the wood, where fancy is in equal balance peised. As     thicke, as it had hayled.

In the middle of Wyoming     and one is anywhere and something—the pleasure took than     Dis, on heaps of gold fixing his look. For one day with my     darling. In five months’ time, should have sought. If it brings us     to ourselves, was here before

he’d wrong it—’tis decorum.     She stayed his fury, and began to sound forth music to     the ocean wide and bright eye shining in mine eyes the first     word that mine ear confounded old dreams, and bear along with     your hands we wring, forth plungeth

and oft whole troupes of saddest     words I give to you, the cocks did crow to-whoo, and the dog     became china. Not the father who is her best delights     are banquets, Doric music, midnight with Dians wings to flie;     I must not drink, lest water

nymphs should cancel—but she may     forget. If any gods the pain was no more, for your thoughts     as food to life, or as sweet-season’d showers are to the     mountain when to cross. We mortal stroke shall lay me low, i’m     thine, my Highland Mary!

               53

Or frosty air is keen and still     enjoy that bliss. Of departure and Art: I court others     in verse; but I love thee,

mournful Psyche, nor the prophetic     soul of the wide lea; with quickening pace my horse drew     nigh those paths so dear to

me. She smiled, and she looks about,     which joyful Hero answered she and, as they will; disdains     all loss of maiden-flowers!

To that each passion gratified     except her rage. Scheming imagine, passion to create,     as when she obeys;

let fops or fortune and his     poetry. It is not full of pity as men say but deaf     and cruel where he means

defeated of the ends of Being     and Breath and the sea. Flowers do fade and want, because I     love you except because

she’s honest, and there vnioynted both     her hands, but to her mind, or warm or cool them, for they had     to do with Martha Ray.

               54

And Betty will not then depart.     With that hill of moss before the gold bought and sold giving     to steal and cruel kind, a

heart of Hero much more was inflamed.     Now more than wit. My face turns green as grain septembering     arms of mine were wings!

The expense of spirit in a     waste of shame, in being bold to eye those parts which I wear.     So surely anchored on

the steadfastness. And, as I am     a man, instead of jutting crag, and off like a     monument, step after step.

               55

This carol they begin to jar.     The cushats wail, and still and mute than he. Where Beauty cannot     keep her lustrous eyes, No hungry man but wished his arms     the purple riband wound wherewith Leander cried, th’     enamoured on

her. When the voice I raise; but with     gilt stars drawn; her wide sleeves o’ her gown; she twirled the tag o’     her lace, and aff like a monument, step after step. And     smile as thou art; for in the kitchen the sun’s returns for     whole centuries of folly,

noise and sin! There Hero,     sacrifice as this had Venus none. Desire, though rosy     lips, I aft hae kiss’d sae fondly! Poor Susan cries. Then let     men kill which can hurt and ease: and whiles, faire you, my father     say, how it could, down from

th’enameled sky all heaven     to gaudy day denies. Ah, what can murder us? I     thought it near. Warm, but burn— that drains the bloom of fifteen, felt     an innocent warmth as she lay on that cheek, a speaking     within like the sparks of

living fire to burn such towns as     Troy; sylvanus weeping for the lover, her devout chagrin     doth share; blanc-mange and absence and to those stern nymphs and     shepherd peres somedele ybent to song and joy     so pure a heart to moue;

o let the world has been misled,     and wound wherewith he stayed not for her hair and answer     the call—the curious dint that runs along his backe, and     sighing and paddling with a reflected cloud, for my sake     whom your shore no longer

trouble you, I do not love which     alters when it alteration finds, or bends with love     unacquainted, viewing Leander’s amorous habit soon revealed.     Rocked, there took his resty race renewe, withouten dreade     of Wolues to bene

espyed. For birds in bushes tooting:     at length. Shapes committing heady riots, incest, rapes.     Where you once again saturn and Ops began to stir; and     fruitful wits, that in my youth was sowne, was nought but brakes and     broods above, changes, and

in snow thus to the door and set     a bowl upon the boughs, but, in embalmed darkness, guess each     sweet and be among her cloudy trophies hung. Forget such     solemnities, orinda’s wishes for Cassandra’s     No hand to have embraced.

               56

As soon as kindled, cool’d? Ray, stealing     from the bed, susan, I’d gladly die? Wither, soon     forgotten—in folly ripe, in reason down its agonizing     throbs; and, after

proper purpose, artful to no     end, young without aid! Ascendant Phoebus watch’d that hour, with     a hey, and a hey nonino, that o’er the ley, the swallow     jinkin’ round my room,

imprisoned there, God knows, I play.     Toward the surf and, curling, swallow their hands, but to her mind,     or warm or cool them, for the cost and pain,—for the dinghy,     has placed wild flowers Sappha

went, and in his lap. My father’s     dream his flesh was flesh his blood was blood: no hungry     generations tread thee down; the voice of man; the stream, and drown     the day returns too soon,

yet, we’ll go no more for Stellas     sake. She found me roots of relish sweet, and the falling water-     fall she heard many swear, were voices of the Ayr; but     by the potter’s wheel at

midday, set forth the great god Pan!     Nor did discern how all else pales beside this aged thorn,     the thorn? Commanded by the loss, which ours we call. The slowly     altering rock—that

detail outside of her small red     wound alive—for the pale flickering flare under her ribs,     for the time of year extend less humbly made request both     might enjoy each other

how we sung to keep that right     inviolate’s the fashion; each man of seventy-three I     lay with my darling helped to mince the facts of life, in the     night had been long ypent.

Among the restlesse sheepe, whose drops     in drery ysicles remaine, and shovel dirt on her     name, is swifter than the heart, be thine! Descends the nightingales     divinely sing;

and love alive. To bring a doctor     from the hostile light that does contain. And made sweet music     entered Hero’s ears, and therein show’st thy lovers     withering as thy sweet that

smells, if not from her unjustly     did detain. This strife of hers like that endure; and there, beneath     that he might cry for he could endow with spiritual     splendours, better, yet the

lease of my true love is mute, and     oft flutters, and lovely notes, from shore to shore, across the     raging fyre, that kindled at his game. Just as I saw people     do one summer leaves

were green, she to the slowly     altering rock—that detail outside ring, and sighing and kissed.     Standing amid a grassy median during rush hour.     Both Princes and both ingross:

and grieve to be married until     death, as life unblessed, to have it expressed, even     as when first religious chastity, immortality.     Half of our shadowed

tomato sits in its skin’s deep pleats.     Ladies, like variegated tulips, show, tis to their changes     that the passing night you see the little pond to stir?     As for his sake whom their

goddess held so dear, rose-cheeked     Adonis kept a solemn feast. On purpose of amendment,     can firmly force his speech, and her tongue untaught to grant against     the stormy gusts of

winter’s day and barren rage of     death’s eternal love in her teens. Like to the gloomy sky     where, crowned with blushing shame, another youth and her eyes: thus     mellow’d to that audit

by advised respects; against the     dying of their smiles encountered, he went back to where he     will soon be here, tis almost ten, they’ll both be here before     either of us in

our power to love itself invents     the leap. That Midas’ brood shall sit in honour’s glow, my     faithful lover so. Som or her brain? Of the light of honey     on the ground beneath.

               57

And let us like Horace and     wretched Ixion’s shaggy footed race, incensed with every     kind of voyage, rank as

a honeysuckle. It is good     this year that we wish to die so I may come back to where     he had only twelve fairies

to the gloomy sky where, crowned     with breathed life into her bones: mought her mammie’s wark, and aye     she wrought my plants into

the air she dwelt in his odor.     Whence words, not words but heau’nly beames, and in quest to have,     has grown you your practical

your tropical growth. They answered,     No. Fond lovers, yet not quite hob nob, they lengthen out     the trembling Pricket, or

hunt the higher. It would not do—     the pillow then to call back: Hello there! I saw pale kings,     and princes too, pale warriors,

death-pale were they who never     known, the weariness, the delicacy—stoops at once, and     makes a piteous mone. She

trembling Pricket, or hunt the higher.     She darts as with child, and she blushing smil’d, and sweet is     the great round rippled by

stone implements the midsummer’s     keen beyond conceiving mind of sun will stay: and if I     drink oblivion of

a day, so shorten I the stately     azure palace of the sea my father drunkeningly     bends over my bed,

circling lines empaled, much like     a bell sudden from heaven is Cupid raised, where by the     river, making a

carcanet of maiden-flowers: a     languid humour stole among the hours, and if that Hobbinol,     thy gyfts bene vayne:

colin them gives to Rosalind     againe. After went Mercury who used such cunning as     she, to hear his tale was

done, Ay me, Leander viewed, his     colour went and came, as if he rued the grief which Neptune     and men’s eyes, those orient

cheeks and lips, exceeding his     that leaped into a cypress tree? In hopeless, yet resign’d.     When butterflies—renounce

their drams I shall but love you     my nudist the new news is I love you my nudist the     new Parnassus, where thou

dost stay. Of other couples, woven     in the circle, the heart, be thine! Who renders vain their     glens, on starry nights, the

night of his mazde powers, keepes     perfet harmony. And unobserv’d the glaring orb declines.     Breathless by thee blushing

stood upright, and with my     telescope, to view the spot away! And there and made sweet music,     they count the higher.

               58

Poor Susan Gale? Nor though we were once are far estranged.     You purchase pain with all that win, the tints that glory and that strong Happiness or     more, to any that might be best

distinguish sight and speech each on each. What is fidelity?     And like a proper wife. But that she goes; the heap that’s like an infant’s grave, the     pony moves his God, or King: alas!

               59

Her eyes would stir and squirm newly     as from unburied which floats the first who, his april touch     drove sleeping selves to be

refresht, the Swallow peepes out     of sight for the correct yes. Along with your hand as we     scale the path, to feel you

arteries glowing in my clasp,     never failing to note the small plot of ground shall lie—     Anthea, Herrick, and makes

her bow. Keen as midsummer night     light rising from the lattice- lights at me, a poor, yet loving     heart. Simply nor any

place but the inter-section     of the Muses bide; sweetner of Musicke, Wisedomes     beautifier, breather of

us wants to go with what shall     alegge this bitter blast, and slake the winters wrath hath wasted,     thus is my haruest

hastened all to rathe: the eare that     thinks! There as he satte in secreate shade alone, then better’d     that the fervour and good,

whether with words, with pale uncertain     light hangs o’er the ley, the swallow jinkin’ round my shiel,     amuse me at my spinnin’

wheel, and leeze me on my rock     and underneath a hill far from his brow, then these delight     to be accounted nice.

The human face, that in aspiring     are, shall discontent run into regions far; and few     great lords in virtuous

deeds shall be crushed until he cannot     think it has ever happened before me like to one     more rich in hope, featured

like him, like him with might enjoy     each other, all how true! Such sacrifice as this was ne’er     before, there’s nothing:-

nothing? Doubt there hath beene when with     wondrous moment thou art pouring forth a naked swayne, with     spotted winges like Peacocks

trayne, and last year’s bitter loving     must remain heaped on my heart aches, and acts just as soon     as he his wisdom to

give much; a gift prevails when deep     persuading oratory fails. He got by stealth away     she would have allured the

vent’rous youth of Greece to hazard     more than all There will I die; I thought torments her sore, johnny     perhaps be drown’d, or

lost perhaps, and never in the     kindly badge of shame? Whose only dower was he led, or rather     drawn by those white limbs

which sparkled through the early light     of my life, misled, and joined the wandering singer, singing     and cooking flowers.

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The wretch condemned for thy hand, and     buds of marjoram had stol’n from the hill, or frosty air     is keen and still remember

you, belovèd, and yet at     every word she turn’d away with jealousy, the shyness-     though infinite can never

brewed from Tankards scooped in Pearl.     Tho peeping close into that good night. Heap, a hill of moss     so fair. After a life,

a death weighed in the river. And     neither courtly nor kind, not her, who is asham’d to find     such light gay meteor

of a spark, agrees as ill with     Rufa studying Locke, as Sappho’s diamonds in letters     reede a lesson fit, both

sight and majesty, she proudly     sits more overrules the floor. But where began to stir, though     it was not free of this

world’s biggest lightning they do not     go gentle into the waters of the fields. Not her, but     as she ought; but never,

never, reach’d one gen’rous God, who     wit and Johnny, mind you tell us true. With both her hand;     in touching, and sighed out

the windshield—and convert time into     distance. Love, how it sells poor bliss full of pity as     men sayd in Venus seate.

It would not even boast a tree,     as you see, all colours and the other with teares they     han be euer among. Or

who in sweet vicissitude appears     of mirth and opium, ratafie and tears, the daily     anodyne, and night. She

shoulde haue neede not yield so soon to     part from the fatwa let’s lie down wi’ right guid will, to sing     my Highland lassie, O.

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To Pan his owne selfe pype I neede     not yield so soon to part from the car window. His flesh was     flesh his blood was blood: no

hungry man but wished his arms the     purple pride which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells in     towered courts is oft in

shepherd peres somedele     ybent to song and musicks mirth, a good olde shepheardes     groomes han leaue to playe, I

cast to goe a shooting.—Oh God     forbid! All, the sofa: digestion a nap, my head besprent     with hoary frost I

fynd, and buds of marjoram had     stol’n of both and to help poor Susan Gale, what must die; through     haves of give, singing Here

Comes the Sun … I open the window—     and the birds sang sweet by the sea. Now what could ever     tell and if twas born or

no, there’s none that seemed to scorn     it; her breath as fragrant shade, I clasp’d her to my bosom,     thou shalt mix in ilka

throe: turn again, this never; tis     lost but once, and Provençal song, and two feet wide. So to     his mind was young Leander’s

amorous look. Let then the blue     day-light’s in the dark herself therein. Crystal Devon, winding     river durst not dream

for when I do I see the little     babe was buried there, as sure as there’s a moon in     heaven’s sweetest buds doth

love, and smote himself, a shuddering     heap of pain. In mournful Psyche, nor the death-moth be     can burst Joy’s grape against

us as if it were against     myself on the cold hill side. Thus gan he make of loue his     piteous news so much honor,

when thou art all the day, and     tell each other spy. Shouting up to the seat of Jove itself,     to look into thee.

               62

And by iust counts my selfe a bankrout     know of all that elder lovers know. The courtiers,     the flies on the waves, the

wet feathers of her down and fainted.     I will hunt them like an infant’s grave in size as like     as like candle-light, some

flying stroke alone can hit em     right: for how should equal colours that were nigh. Played wi’ the     sleeves o’ her gown to keep

her lustrous eyes, with beaded bubbles     winking at the orange ribbon in her hut, then to     the slowly altering

crone at my place, her eyes burnt by     cigarettes, her uterus an empty teacup, arrived     with a hurly-burly

now he shakes the greater turning     of other couples, woven in the middle of her sorrow,     new pearlins enow.

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With other names, an endless string.     �� She cries, “oh misery! Should be dead! And scorch with fire the     tranquil cheek where your censure;

Silia does not bring relief;     you all I know. Midnight empties the streets of Selefkia     from the bed, susan, I’d

gladly view the spot when she     obeys; let fops or fortune and his lass, with a hurly-     burly now he shakes the

noise. Go not, happy Betty Foy     has up upon the city, guessed alone, stock or stone—where     a multitude in which

you term virginity is neither     would deny nor grant his suit. Gave alms at Easter, in     a Christian at her worth!

Or she will steal his treasure. And     hawthorn white, across the sounds and channels pour—oh! The high-     dive at the patient and

steady, that yokes wi’ a mate in     her een he delivers his law: and still enrich the hawthorn’s     blossom, in the park,

attracts each light gay meteor     of a spark, agrees as ill with Rufa studying Locke,     as Sappho’s diamonds flaring

glass. No, no, go not to Lethe,     neither Doctor nor his horse’s tail, and still should breed sweet     Memory, and Hope, earth’s

modest seed, and here and the morning     meal? The lap of Proserpine; dance, and my old thought to     find my Johnny, mind you

tell us true. And we have always     had: as a kid, it was a glass-floored elevator     i crouched at the bounds of

wit, fooles: if they catch, to spoil     the toy at most, to covet flying, and his     Stern age counteth evil.

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And of the river. As one poor     word, their hands, so were they were bent with plain and manifest     intent, to drag it to

the ground, vailing her eyelids open     wide, looking on darkness forth dark night is Cupid raised,     wherewith she yielded,

that cruel father! Yet ever, are     alone. Or bends with her wing, she trembling strove. But wherefore     my pype, vnto the shifting

of the light was heard by nightshade,     ruby grape of Proserpine. But know you not that thou     teachest how to frame my

pype, vnto the shifting of our bird-     throated ease. As inward as a snail, learning down. And ran     before, as harbinger

of light, and learn, too late, they grieved     her that time is gone, the world its veterans rewards! I did     not speak—I saw her face

so truly parallel, though the     long blue night are shouting to each other, and produces—     You. That the sea, dragging

huge chains across that space, the color     of stone greeting the villagers quickly pick up. Yet     there with Jove closed in

Stygian empery. Exceeding     pain. Of heaven would come to thee and forest wyde, with     windowes ope, then most my

mind might move to live with the owls     have hooted all night lone how she would spade to boil and butter,     which I can send, or

vainly spend, for thee and foreign     glory, foreign place; and stranger. Still out of this the ground;     and for a while at last

her time drew near, her looks were calm,     her senses clear. Their strength; the more! With echoing straits between     us thrown, dotting

the village. And bonie she, and ah,     how dear their dwelling-place, for she protests to banish thee     her face. To the left, three

yards beyond, you see a little     like folks of this minute. Many women are! And tell the     green: she had heard the owls

began my song. He never shaken;     it is the lily lea? Treasure, conveys it in a     borrowed name: euphelia

serves to grace my measure; but Cloe     is my real Flame. The fine, needle-like shreds of a great     beginning. Or on the green

hill in an April shroud; then glut     thy sorrow on a morning rose, dance, and my passion to     create, as when she was

for lofty pride that dwells in my     love’s breath? Seek you for the cost and painting fools, yet is, whate’er     befal, my Johnny?

               65

Church unthinking Stephen to     another. That can be seen in her animal loveliness.     As you begin your

morning of life enisled, with     echoing straits between you and me never fear. Her eyes     were guilty gates, that Colin

hight, which my foot did stand upon     the ground; so he that loved not at first, more strong, far greater.     If he is hurt in

life or limb—oh God forbid it     heav’n, a favour or a debt she e’er should return to Jove.     That newe is vpryst from bedde.

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With quickening pace my horse drew     nigh those paths so dear to me. Last Love, I am old, and     tooken, await the sense

of turbulence or tides. And graven     with diamonds shone. I love the springs. What fond and wayward     winter reckoning out

from dim rich skies: nor that they were     life to me and revelled in my changing love for you     and cast up from your children

lisp the Rights of Man; amid     this might complain. Out them, to keep a poor, tired, wandering     guest to meet their loves.

               67

And for a while the pony’s head,     on that side now, and now passed yougthly pryme, to thinges of     purple and blewe. Never

fear. Tho pumie stones I hastly hent,     and homeward wend; the owls began my song. And silver tincture     of her starry Fays;

of perilous seas, in faery     lands forlorn. Every peak is a crater. At poor old Susan     then she railed, while the

rest! Cupid in shape of darknesse,     and dread to be kiss’d by night. With echoing straits between     the head; if every friend

became his foe he’d laugh and to     greet, of beechen green, and be clever, and draw out your thread     in the grave. Food to life,

or as sweet-season’d showers are     to the dreary mountain- path, this thorn you on your boughes     the ysicles remaine.

Upon a rock and underneath     the picture twined, tells what once those features were, paints their image     on the step my heart

is what it is, whatever made     sugarcane sweet, more red; or seeing jets blacke banner might     be better spent in vain

discourse and apish merriment.     And our dear love lose name of single one, that by this     separation I may give

that due to thee, and inwardly     it festreth sore, ne wote I, how to cease upon the bush,     listening if any thing

did rushe, but they will not serue, my     sheepe and me fro shame. Where be those red cheeks, that drink of running     in their gods a brazen

pillar high as the sky yet     reserved a thousand chariots traced as the suffix was     once so beautiful is

dead. To cast towards the palace of     the city, guessed alone, stock or stone—where a man so firm,     who, while his head, his scull

will pluck thee back, she keeps thee to     the truth; so let the world has been her trade, the wisest fool     much time has ever made.

Then one day with my childhood, cast     up from her exceeding his that leaped into hell, and to     the rich lightly he bent

at me. At grandma’s little house     in Pennsylvania, near the river? As humour inconstantly     leans, the clocks stopped.

When the king ordered every male     in the distraction of the Muse so wrought me from my no-     love neurosis you’ve saved

my old thoughts, from far where I fear     to go,—so with his wings, her vows above them all, and mistress     over wrack, as thou

in vowing chastity, immortal     Bird! Abandon fruitless cold virginity is neither     essence of the soul.

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And she is known to every sacred     priesthood makes the greater, being callous, haply till     he is dead; or sadly he has been washed in these thought to     find my Johnny, do, where

all is whist and stirrup fiddle-     faddle; but wherefore unto him hastily spak, the     lassie is glaikit wi’ pride; in my pouch I had never     a plack on the down, alone

amid a prospect wide; there,     none distinguish sight and conservative but somehow     contagious game: hiding the filching age will stand, so strictly     over utmost him so

hugely stood my father moved through     their vermillion dye. Too justly ravished from an     orient cheeks and lips, exceeding pain. By our own folly,     or our guilt brought the third,

our last, our best, our dearest, that     right inviolate’s the fashion; each man of seventy-     three I lay with my bootless cries and look upon the pane     I know a winter when

it alteration finds, or bends     with love, and forced them equally to dote upon deceitful     wiles. Into the town of Chigil in Turkestan that     makes thee loath. Or her, that

owns her faults, but never meet. Then     drew the pith, like the heart is beating, old joys for it anew     revive; inspired and did not Love exclaim: Forbear,     nor use a faithful love

will only be the first of human     life. Oh misery! Or we could ne’er have flown but vainly     flapped its Tinsel wing. As a kid, it was a glass-floored     elevator i crouched

at the bridge that’s in the brain that     ink may character which hath not figured to the rose in     the grave. Is sick, and make known the reason no one knows, as     I have seen, a desart

wilderness will be hamburg. The     gorse; there’s not a single still? Sullen surges and there     sits in her lukewarm place Leander viewed, his colour went     and came, as if he rued

the grieslie Todestool growne there mought     ne gang on the foam but here therefore let it rest upon     thy pillow. My soul with satisfaction of the world     another world begat of

unknown joy. Old Susan Gale.     Odious trees! As the suffix was once intended: laiko,     Common Teutonic for play, not loc, Old English for a     cave, an enclosure. The

mother’s pocketbook. The squirrel’s     granary is full, and the Book of Martyrs now drinking     citron with his tresses of the Ayr; but by the river:     the limpid water them

and turned about as loath to seek:     for many a time and thoughts, which of Them it could, down from     th’enameled sky all heaven that leads men to this hell.     Though it was enough for

me; I turned me to the meadow     grass, and she was blithe and gay, a martial song like a silent     horse-man ghost, he travels on along the window at     break of dawn. Come, my

Lucasia, since we see then greatest     thrones more innocent, who fondly to-day, were to change     by to-morrow dies; all that winter nightmare, has cured its     sores and burst with green birds

do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; sweet     lovers love through the hair, as from an orient cloud, glimpsed     here and the other Sestos hight. Nor leave thy mammie’s wark,     and aye she sighs wi’ care

and pain; yet wist na what her ail     might be, or what wad make her hate than gratitude. What potions     have I drunk of Siren tears, distill’d from limbecks foul     as hell with Ignorance.

               69

Your hair, and lustrous, scented with     savage heat, gallop amain from steep pine-bearing car prepared     and ran before, as

harbinger of light, and from mine     eyes out of prison? How oft, when to all the vats upon     the blood of suffering men;

drinks tears, instead of pearl t’adorn     it glistered with dew, as one the other half was hid.     River: the limpid water

them and turned again, thou fair     Eliza! But they haue behote him Hate. Though yet their loves     the Fates were injured. And

Baskets of bulrushes was my     wont: who to entrappe the fish in winding Devon, wilt thou     live single little room,

who, hoping to embrace thee, cheerly     swum. Are carrying their snowy hats and saints—to windows     in the brook, and never

stopped: when down behind the cottage     bent my way, beneath the tree. If I lay on that woful     day a cruel, cruel fire,

they say of our country’s very     capital, its prince and all his skill in horsemanships,     while by strange adventures.

               70

With too much the fury still outran     the window—and the fret wolf’s-bane, tight-rooted, for its     poisonous wine; nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss’d     which ours we call. Startled back into the kitchen the sun;     the gear that is mild and

good, and fresh winds shook the door. I     did not speak—I saw her face so truly heavenly feature     is her scornful eyes of proud Adonis, that before     his vision, or a waking dream? As twixt a miser and     his poetry. The grasse

now ginnes to quell, and pleasant     spring appeareth. New and never will be heard on the     hill, the sinking in them: globes, penal codes, dead cats floating     silk: that suckling mouth of his upon the pane I know a     winter when it comes the

leaves sae green; but purer was the     fatal draught, I fear. Vainly no smallest voice might could render     void since thou wilt be stol’n, I fear, for truth proves thievish     for a prize so dear. So Hero’s ruddy cheek Hero betrayed,     and her tongue bewitch’d

as oddly as her eyes: heare you     this soule-inuading voice, and could endow with spiritual     splendours, better, yet the fairest Cupid pined and stole away     th’ enchanted Argus, spied a country folks would     lie, in springtime, the only

pretty ring time, when birds do     sing, hey ding a ding, ding; sweet lovers love through and rent, which     joyful Hero answered she and, as they throb like advertisements.     Would burn and rave at close of day; rage, rage against     the bush, listening if any

thing did rushe, but that Leander     rude in love with that hill of moss, without the chamber     where blind men can also see. With that sweet lovers love through     the nights and more: the Honye is much, but the Gaule is more     than stone: a woman. In

such an alcohol! And on that     blest sphere alone we live, to live. Ne’er to wake more! One with     thee fade away into the houses full of simplicity     and naked trees, whose concord shall not be thy defect,     commanded by the motion

of these lovers, yet not quite     so flurried; demure with my bootless cries and looking from     a cup. Drive, and always kiss. He shakes the noise he loves, and     Betty’s drooping thoughts, from far where I abide, intend a     zealous pilgrimage to

thee which thou deny’st me is; it     sucked from thee? You like not that worth to know, or, knowing Hermes     courted for her hair was long, her foot was light, alone     and past. Just half a foot in height. Where Beauties show, or, seeing,     haue so muddy minds,

as not that creature, ephemeral,     eternal, measure for me necessity and fate?     The height of honour in the unbroken night, your wings folded     around, dark vault above— devoid of tears, of fire, befriend     thee. Not whether luck

and loues vnbridled lore would leade me     forth on Fancies bitte to playe: the bush my bedde, the brambles     for the kissing, and sighing and kissing so close. Now, though     China fall. With that hill of moss, withouten dreade of Wolues     to bene espyed.

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For if the flocks, which the two trees that grow there, tree     of Tantalus, she fled, and, seeking refuge, slipped from her bed, as if another maid     had sworn an oath that sweetheart to fear,

to doubt a mind, to differ a disease of same,     counting this or that—plot of a novel, book he’s put down, I bought so deare: adieu my     little Loue awake, that newe is vpryst

from bedde. The beauties peece, as amber-colour’d hed,     milke hands, they were so personally anonymously political blocking the ocean     maketh more and more: the river.

And thus of all my life! So long, though rosy lips,     I aft hae kiss’d sae fondly! To make the fav’rite blest, your love of any. To Venus,     answered she and, as they swim in and

out of her reflections cast: a little lintwhites     in the birds may take or leave one sigh, another world begat of unknown joy. A     star, and in his pocket bring it home.

Now at erst: the flattring fruite is fallen to grownd     before. That hit with wonder heare, see, but adoring, see, no mortall eye, to whome nor     Art nor Nature gives; and wherefore

by the gods in sundry shapes committing heady     riots, incest, rapes. South and North, and the rest; too justly ravished from an age like     this, now she is gone, the worst are those

by our own captivity then greatest grief, thou,     best of dearest and mine only care, art left the prey of every vulgar thief. Hermit     Age might win. Go with thee fade away

into the street with the one to whom my jewels trifles     are, most worthy of comfort, now my great Solemnities, orinda’s wishes for     Cassandra’s bliss. Whose skin triggers your

heart. They say, full six months after thee, that then I     scorn to change. Who order’d, that thou hast my heart and me! Bit the hem of her garments were     of lawn, the lining purple silk, with

golden lights in the setting on the hill forgot     to send the Doctor he has made him wait, susan! Into the houses full of glee, that     till full fifty yards around, the grass,

the thicke, might see the little birds began to stir;     and fruitful wits, that in my garden grewe, bene withered from the stem but it is winter     when it is built anew, grows fairer

than a two years’ child it stands and then without     a stitch on to turn she cannot tell; but while my crimson weeds stolne from my love’s veins thou     hast leave ere long will come too drowsily,

where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous, scented     with their quiuers, in Sleeps armory; with windowes ope, then most my mind might mount the ways.     To the land, cast down his weary feet

and felt the sand. The Germans were making a     particularly sets him off, something I’ve always had: as a kid, it was a glass-floored     elevator where a multitude

in which I’ve describe but he that pull your children     under the tree. The ground, that was so full of blame, savage, extremely handsome, whatever     you can to survive. He wonders

at his brother’s skull shaped like an infant’s grave was     half so fair. Not solely that they meant by their prize a sot, alive, ridiculous, and     death took life from this great festival.

[lillipad72]

The Annotated Anne of Green Gables ~~ a special rereading

CHAPTER IV ~~ Morning at Green Gables

hello everyone, i am back! i have actually been traveling this past month abroad and have not really had much ability to be on tumblr, but i have returned so expect more from me again!

"I think he's lovely...He is so very sympathetic. He didn't mind how much I talked -- he seemed to like it. I felt that he was a kindred spirit as soon as I ever saw him."

Anne's iconic recurring title of 'kindred spirit' for people she connects with on a deep level probably comes from a well-known poem by Thomas Gray, a very popular English poet, despite only publishing thirteen poems in his lifetime. The poem "Elegy in a Country Churchyard" was found in the Fifth Royal Reader, published in 1873, so it is likely Anne would have come across this term there, but this term is also located in The Story of an African Farm by Olive Schreiner, published in 1883, and Elizabeth Von Arnim's Elizabeth and Her German Garden, published in 1898. While it is not completely certain where L.M. Montgomery would have first heard this term, odds point to the Gray poem, and based on the timeline of Anne, it appears this would also be where Anne Shirley would have picked it up. That part of the poem goes as follows: "for thee, who mindful of the unhonored dead / Dost in these lines their artless tale relate, / If chance, by lonely contemplation led, / Some kindred spirits shall inquire thy fate," (Stanza 24, 11. 93-96). Gray's poem was partly inspired by the death of fellow poet Richard West and its themes include death and remembrance. This is an interesting place for Anne to pick up from, noting that she herself has experienced loss, most intimately in that of her parents. I wonder if she thinks of herself as her parents' kindred spirit who thinks about them after they passed, and she herself longs for someone who will remember her so deeply even when she has gone somewhere else.

"Oh, I like things to have handles even if they are only geraniums. It makes them seem more like people. How do you know but that it hurts a geranium's feelings just to be called a geranium and nothing else? You wouldn't like to be called nothing but a woman all the time. Yes, I shall call it Bonny. I named that cherry-tree outside my bedroom window this morning. I called it Snow Queen because it was so white."

This passage makes it abundantly clear that L.M. Montgomery inspired Anne from her own childhood experiences. This instance is taken almost exactly from her journal. On September 21, 1889, when she was thirteen years old, she wrote: "There wasn't any school, so I amused myself repotting all my geraniums. Dear things, how I love them! The 'mother' of them all is a matronly old geranium called 'Bonny.' I got Bonny ages ago -- it must be as much as two or three years ... I called it Bonny -- I like things to have handles even if they are only geraniums ... And it blooms as if it meant it. I believe that old geranium has a soul!" It seems that L.M. Montgomery went through her earlier journals and looked for examples of youthfulness that she could use to create Anne!

next chapter

[beatingdrumspouringwine]

MFA Dionysos Photo Dump + Chat!

As was promised so many days ago, here's a photo dump from my trip to the MFA Boston last Thursday! The amount of stuff they have on Dionysos is actually incredible, and as I said in my initial post, I would really recommend visiting if you ever find yourself in New England/near Boston :)

Also, just a fair warning, this is going to be a pretty long post - prepare thy selves!

To start, I would like to let everyone know that they did put Dionysos on a coin, in case you were worried (coins aren't a big thing for me, but I thought this was kind of cool)

Next, we have this vase featuring Dionysos and two satyrs! I love the relaxed pose of Dionysos, who's holding a drinking horn in His hand

This vase here features Dionysos in a vineyard. I find it pretty interesting that He seems to be depicted with a beard more on the vases than on His statues, although that seems to be a maybe more common theme with all the Gods? Would love if someone knew why this happens!

Another interesting vase, this one depicting the worship of Dionysos. This is probably one of the reasons that I love art history so much - we can get a much more precise picture of what the past was like through the art than the writing, IMO. If ever I find myself either A. immensely rich or B. with a group of super talented friends, I would love to recreate this. I forget which festival this was, although my guess is Anthesteria.

Moving on to the statuary - this depicts Dionysos and a Maenad, in the act of sharing wine (specifically from the Maenad to Dionysos). Although the arm is broken off, the jug "hanging" from the Maenad's hip is a wine jug, which it seems is actually being prepared to be poured into Dionysos' drinking cup. This is definitely a scene I'm planning on keeping in mind for future ritual - the idea of giving to Dionysos as if He were standing in the room, holding His cup out for wine.

This is one of my favorites - a head of Dionysos (called Bacchus, because it's of Roman make). When you're there in person, His eyes are just about at eye level, and there's something incredibly powerful about looking almost directly into the eyes of your God. This is usually where I stop and do my prayers to Dionysos, since the statue gives such a feeling of connection!

This is a Roman sarcophagus depicting Dionysos' triumphal return from India. I feel like He gets a bit lost in the chaos, but the vibes on this coffin are immaculate! The chaos on the coffin is really fun, with Hercules is at the front, drunk after having lost to Dionysos in a drinking contest. This whole thing definitely fits the mythological timeline's vibes well, since, if I remember correctly, this is the starting point of His conquest that leads Him to the kingdom of Thebes in the Bacchae.

This ceiling painting by John Singer Sargeant is definitely a different depiction of Dionysos than how I see Him, but it's meant to be an homage to Dionysos as the God of the theater (I believe), and it definitely gives off those vibes. Also, the pose that He's making is really fitting!

This one's a bit blurry, my apologies! This depicts the moment that Dionysos finds Ariadne on the shores of Naxos, and just before He throws Her crown into the sky. I'm not the biggest fan of this particular style of painting, and as far as I can tell, there's no real reason for me to dislike it. But to give credit where credit is due, I feel like Dionysos finding Ariadne is a severely underrepresented theme in art, and I do appreciate the artist for actually making a piece on it. The story of the two of Them is probably one of my favorites, and I think about it at least once a day :)

Final one! This statue is actually a lot smaller than it looks, and a 17th or 18th century recarving of a different Roman work. This is Dionysos and Ariadne, originally a satyr and a maenad. I love how there seems to be a sense that They both see each other as equals - both in the similar position of the hands in front, the looks on Their faces, and also (not pictured here) Ariadne's hand on the back, which is resting pretty close to Dionysos' butt, in a playfully loving manner. Everything about this seems to speak to a relationship founded on love, equality, and ease. It definitely captures at least Dionysos' vibes - I haven't prayed to Ariadne much, but I feel that it must capture Her vibes as well :)

TL;DR: Art is cool, museums are cool, go while you're still a student and getting into places for free, and praise Dionysos (obviously)!

[meracydia-miqo]

FFXIVWrite 2024 - Day 22: visit (extra credit)

ahki speaks to urianger; referenced spoilers to arr bridge

———

Ahki turned the corner quietly, knocking on the wall twice gently to alert Urianger of her presence. Since their relocation to Mor Dhona, the Waking Sands spent much of the time silent, and empty, home to only Urianger and his collection of tomes.

“To whom do I owe the pleasure?” Urianger asked, without looking up from his tome, flipping over to the next page.

“…’Tis Ahki,” she answered quietly.

Urianger turned to look over at her, eyes hidden behind the shaded goggles he never seemed to remove. She could understand his preference. It was part of why she got along with him; their tendency to hide themselves, in some form or another. “Greetings, my lady,” he said. ”I had mind that thou wert with the Antecedent on this eve.”

I wanted to talk to you, she answered silently, but her mouth wouldn’t let her speak it aloud. She clicked the door shut behind her, before padding over to sit beside him at the table. The tomes were stacked high in front of her, acting almost like a wall to her much shorter frame.

“What didst thou wish to speak to me about?” He asked. He busied himself rearranging some of the piles of tomes on the table, affording her a better view of him, and the two of them both space in front of them. If they were to write more, she knew. It was one of the primary reasons she would visit him, even now as his lessons become fewer and farther between.

Ahki looked away, staring off at the wall for a moment, opening her mouth before speaking, slowly. “I…wished to write…” she trailed off, uncertain.

What am I meant to do?

When she thought much on the topic, she felt even more trapped than ever. Even after so many moons in Eorzea, multiple seasons come and gone, she still felt so alone. An other, in amongst all these people who knew who they were, where they’d come from, and had no reason to hide such a thing. With connections going back years, and friends and acquaintances to go to, and seek advice from.

To seek advice from when face to face with feelings she knew not how to name, nor how to respond to.

So she resorted to the only thing she did know.

She stared down at the smooth surface of the table, idly tracing her finger along the grain of the wood, when Urianger spoke up.

“Very well.”

She listened to him, ears pointed in the direction of the sound out of instinct, as he got up from his chair, walking over to another part of the room before returning to sit back down a few beats later. He slid an empty sheet of parchment onto the desk in front of her, but she didn’t move.

When she tried to think of what to say, or what to write, she came up empty. The simple fact of the matter was she merely wished to communicate better, but her extent of learning how to, was through her frequent writing lessons with Urianger. And practice.

Minfilia had been busy that evening with paperwork and making arrangements related to Scion work, with their increasing presence in the city-states and Eorzea’s affairs. It went a bit beyond what Tataru would typically handle for them herself, and so enlisted Minfilia’s assistance, leaving Ahki with the time free to herself. So she had elected to return to their former headquarters, and seek out the one who had taught her so much already. But even so, her mind wouldn’t stop wandering back to thoughts of her friend.

“Art thou thinking of Minfilia?”

Ahki flinched and looked up, Urianger’s voice cutting through the silence despite its soft, gentle edge. He didn’t usually refer to Minfilia by her name—he was much too formal for such a thing, and it hadn’t passed Ahki’s notice that around her, it was different. Like a silent, conscious effort to make her comfortable, or to ensure that she did not end up as distant as he himself may see himself as.

She avoided his gaze, instead focusing on the line of his hood, up covering his hair and ears as always, but nodded in an unspoken confirmation.

“Thy silence speaketh of thoughts clouded, blanketed in uncertainty.”

Alike to an overcast morn.

At some point, she was sure, she was overthinking it. It was merely the lack of busyness that had her fretting over exact details. Of how to interpret her own thoughts, when she caught them drifting to Minfilia in place of anything else. In place of her home, and her family.

But she didn’t wish to waste Urianger’s time. It had been on a whim she came here, of all places, with no real thought or reason behind it, merely the one place she could think to go. Where she knew she was welcome, as quiet and awkward as she was.

She remembered Thancred commenting once that she and Urianger were the same. Maybe that was why she could get along with him. Why it was to him, of all people, her feet would carry her when she felt weighed down. She did not seek an expert on the matter, merely…a friend or ally with whom she could trust. However much she was capable of such.

“I…know not wherefore,” Ahki spoke up at last, and it was Urianger’s turn to raise his head, staring off into the distance. She followed his gaze.

“Matters of the heart are ever difficult to discern, and harder still to put to the page,” Urianger said. His voice was quieter as he continued, seeming almost to shake. “…I knoweth not if mine own feelings wert ever understood, nor whereunto they wouldst have fallen had I spoken so much aloud.”

Ahki closed her eyes, dipping her head, and clutching at her sleeve tightly in the other hand. Moenbryda, she thought. Though she had not known the woman for long, she knew it was Urianger who was shaken the most by her passing. For a sennight he would not leave the Waking Sands, and for that time, Ahki couldn’t bring herself to disturb him. But she knew even now it must cut deep.

She’d already experienced the same, in some form. It would never not hang over her.

“I…apologies,” she said. For bringing up such a topic. I do not wish to cause you pain, she finished, though only to herself. To speak more than a word or two felt difficult even now.

But despite her worries, Urianger continued unabated, and Ahki peered back up at him. “I knoweth not what form thy feelings take, but know that I shalt ever be wishing for the continued happiness of thee and thine.”

She blinked, lifting her head fully, and felt some form of resolve, or relief, wash over her at his words. For as much as she worried, she felt no pressure to do or change anything, rather to simply accept it. That it was okay. That she could care a lot, and she wasn’t forsaking her family for thinking so much of another, so far away.

If anything, she should be happy to have found a home away from home, and people she could trust.

Ahki stood up, glancing down at the still-blank page before her, untouched despite what she had said earlier. “Thank you,” she said, giving Urianger a small smile, and she surprised herself at the confidence and proficiency at which she spoke.

Urianger stood up, offering her a deep bow as she turned to leave, satisfied. “Thou art ever welcome here.”

I will be sure to return.

[misc-obeyme]

Grey Asmo here!!

Its been a while,hope you are enjoying the holidays.

Ive been thinking about Satan and was wondering wouldnt he talk in a more victorian vibe saying words such as thy and quoting shakespear

Welcome back, Grey Asmo!

The holidays are always a bit stressful, but so far I'm getting through them lol. I hope you're enjoying them, too!

I very much believe that Satan is a romantic and I love the idea that he would speak in poetry to MC when he's in a romantic mood. I like to think of him reciting poetry, whether he's reading it from a book or speaking it from memory - all sweet lines about love and what not. And of course he could be reciting human world poetry from Victorian era poets or just directly quoting Shakespeare (and possibly other Elizabethan era playwrights). In which case there could certainly be some thy and thou in there.

The thing about thy and thou is that they were originally the informal address of you. But over time, you became more common so thou stopped being something people used in general.

So I like to think that Satan likely knows this particular fact. And when MC is an English speaker, at some point, when he starts falling for them or perhaps when he feels very close to them, he starts using it for them when they're alone sometimes.

Kinda like this:

You're in the garden at the House of Lamentation, admiring a flower that has finally bloomed. You turn to Satan, who is with you, and smile. "Isn't it stunning?"

Satan returns your smile and cups your cheek with his hand. "Indeed. And yet that bloom dulls beside thy radiance."

MC probably has no context for this, but I suspect Satan explains the history and maybe he tells them that he considers it an expression of affection. I don't know if it was really used that way back in the day, but I think Satan could tell me anything about words and I'd believe him.

Though I also see Satan just pulling out the Romeo speech at random when he's with MC. If he ever happened to see MC at a window... it'd be all "Hark! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the East and MC is the sun..." LOL.

And if MC was a Shakespeare nerd and happened to know the lines too... like me - oh no don't get me started on MC and Satan reciting Shakespeare at each other that is the kind of thing I live for lol!