#labour NOW or else ill keep on planting and planting new things without waiting for the old ones to even sprout

[starfoxrry]

scouring the internet for a pandemic hobby thats not expensive and suitable for a dumbass w a short attention span like me. anyone got any suggestions ? a girlie is trying to add some enrichment to her enclosure

[husbandohunter]

Stardew Impact [Genshin+Stardew Valley/xReader]

Part 1/3 Kaeya, Diluc

Synopsis: “A mysterious phenomenon brought you and your s/o to an unfamiliar world: Pelican Town! Without the power of Visions, the two of you begin to learn the life of what it takes to be...a farmer?”

(DOMESTIC FARM LIFE YIP YIP)

Coming soon...

Albedo and Childe

Zhongli and Xiao

(A/N): So the brainrot was real in this one. I planned to add Albedo for a Mondstadt edition but kinda went overboard so I gotta split this one into parts too. Wordcount_almost 2k spspspsp

______________________________________________________

Diluc

• Already has the whole year planned in his head. Literally if Diluc were to play this game, he'd have a booming farm within year ONE. Calm and collected through and through, though the new environment raises alot of questions, as long as you were still with him, Diluc ain't complaining

• The town welcomes you two with open arms. It was all thanks to the attire. Diluc wore his usual dark coat adorned with regal gold while you had a dress made of Liyue's finest silk, one that he bought for you. Needless to stay both of you reeked the aura of rich aristocrats (Mayor Lewis is pleased that greedy bastard)

• Once the farm was permitted to your owndership, Diluc began to think of ways to turn it into a vineyard. He was a businessman afterall. Although the staff back at the Dawn Winery were the ones who tended the field, Diluc still knew a few things about planting due to his childhood days Master Crepus would bring him out to their yard and demonstrated the process of gardening. He still remembers those days clearly, doing the very same this moment with you.

• Occasionally works at the Saloon bar. It was the perfect opportunity. As you took care of the farm side, Diluc continues to look for more ways to increase the income while gathering information from the folks around town. Gus LOVES to have him over, like he's just so efficient and reliable! They soon become good friends saying if Diluc were ever to own a wine stock, he would gladly buy from him.

• This is why Diluc would stay a little later due to just chatting with the people from the bar. One time you walked into the Saloon only to the front desk with Emily alone. Turns out the others were in the other room, too busy playing a game of pool. You decided to leave him be since it was rare to have Diluc so relaxed in leisure activities. Thus in the end, you spent your time chatting with Emily until a whole hour has passed before your lover notices and apologizes for losing track of time.

• Everything felt like a dream because it was his dream. To live a life undisturbed from chaos, his duties and the dangers that lurk in Teyvat, Diluc grew fond of the domesticity. There was nothing he loved more than to spend his hours by your side, day after day, returning home to your freshly handmade meals.

• Spring: Already up and early planting the parnersnips (I'm very soft for gardener Diluc you see). What do you expect from a workaholic? Even during his leisure time you would often find him near some plant as he does consider this hobby quite therapeutic. But when it rains, Diluc would be standing beside you with an arm around your shoulder, smiling contently as you lean into his touch. He gazes through the dripping window and silently admires the current progress you both made on the farm.

• Between the two annual spring festivities, I would say the flower dance. Diluc is a private man and would prefer to take things where no eyes were on sight. But with a little bit of nudging from Gus (your wingman), he gives in and leads you to the center stage. Elegant. Graceful. The way you two moved together became the talk of the event. Though, Diluc was already used to people staring by now, all he needed to do was to ignore them and keep his focus on you.

• Summer: No blankets in bed. Nope, its bloody hot in Pelican Town. He tends to stay indoors or anywhere with shade, in other words, his work hours in the Saloon increased.

• Diluc always has a nice cold drink prepared for you if by any chance you were to pay a visit after a whole day of labour. It's a habit he's made subconciously as if it would be a natural occurance for you to enter the door. His colleagues would ask him who did he make that drink for? Honestly so cute i cri

• Moments like these remind him of Mondstadt, where he quietly wipes the glasses while listening to you talk. Your voice is soothing. Sun rays peek from the side casting onto the umber tables, reflecting a rich golden light as the radio plays a soft song in the background. It's so peaceful, the town was small hence not many people visited the bar, Diluc came to appreciate this warm privacy (plus no Venti and Kaeya which is a huge pog realization).

• Autumn: Harvest time baby. The kegs are full and the sheds are full of kegs. This season was huge stonks and the house ended up getting an upgrade. Diluc is the type of man who wants to make sure that his spouse wouldn't have to work another day of her life. I reckon this is why he's so ambitious because he wants you to have the best and you deserve the best. (Husband material. Slap a ring on him ladies).

When there was no more work left to do, time would be spend peacefully exploring the woods. While you skipped a few steps ahead as the leaves crunched beneath your feets, Diluc follows slowly from behind. He sees your back but his eyes stares somewhere far beyond whats in front of him: His future. 

It was such a stark contrast to the one he envisioned before. One filled with uncertaintly, blocked by darkness with no silver lining in sight, endlessly wandering as he drags the claymore against the ground. There was never a day in which the Darknight hero wouldn't think of Mondstadt. Leaving the city in the incompetent hands of Ordo Favonious while Abyss Mages continue to lurk fuels him to find a way to return as soon as possible and yet...

"Higher big sis!" Jas tightens her hold on the ropes as you pushed the swing with all your might. She laughs, like a child, it was full of innocence and joy. Later Vincent came in and nugdes you, asking when his turn will come.

"You wanna go too? Alright alright don't worry," waiting for Jas to come down, you lift the boy up so that he was seated safely on the chair, "3..2..1 go!"

He wonders if he could just be a little selfish for once.

• Winter: Best man to have in this season. Every morning Diluc would find himself restricted in movements due to a pair of arms around his waist and legs entangled with yours. Turns out you've been doing it subconciously because he's just so warm (Diluc keeps it lowkey and pretends to sleep longer cuz of it)

~~xx~~

Kaeya

• Haha looks like the portal is gone, guess we'll be stuck forever :)). No kidding Kaeya would be so down to stay here for the rest of his life and the best part is to spend it with you. He doesn't show a shred of concern regarding Teyvat, not like he's easily shaken by events that are abnormal, but you can see that Kaeya is truly and genuinely happy. (You're stunned).

• Oho we also have this marvelous landscape just for the two of us? And a cozy little cabin to go along with it as well? This should be fun~ 

• Of course Kaeya would also know a few things about planting, just the basics since he did grow up with Diluc. When they were kids, Crepus would give each of them their own pots so they can grow their own plants. It eventually became a competitive thing where whoever's plant grows the fastest gets to eat the other person's dessert for a year (no one wins. They end up sabotaging each other which Diluc started first, thinking it'll be funny as a joke).

• You are, and will be going on dates with him. In fact, the amount of dates you two went on increased since then. The townspeople would call you two "lovebirds" since he's practically by your side 24/7. 

• I mean he doesn't have the responsibilities as a Cavalry Captain anymore so what else is there to do?

• Would attend all annual events no matter what season. 

• Evelyn constantly gushes how much of a wonderful pair you and Kaeya make and often is the one who provides Kaeya a fresh bouqet of flowers for him to use as a gift. George on the otherhand just rolled his eyes mumbling something along the lines of "youngsters these days" and "crazy hormones."

• Befriends Pam. Love for beer plus somewhat cynical attitude? They get along real swell! She starts sending some recipes into the mailbox of course saying if yall ever need a hand, let her know.

• Spring: I can see Kaeya be switching back and forth between caring for the farm or taking quests posted on Pierre's bulletin board. He likes to keep things interesting, learning the ways of the new world while also getting to know the people around town.

• Would NOT return Mayor Lewis' shorts in which he found in Marnie's room. It's such high quality blackmail material. Kaeya is currently plotting what is the best way to use it to his advantage.

• He didn't tell you of course.

• Summer: There are no blankets because he is your blanket. Since your cabin was small so was the bed. That's why he has to hold you so that no one falls off when rolling over. Either he hugs you with your nose close to his neck, or your back against his chest while spooning you or holding hands if sleeping on your sides became too much. Yall need a serious house upgrade.

• For some reason Kaeya becomes more energetic in the summer. He lets you rest in the shade while handling the farm work for the time being. If you guys got a pet it would be a cat. Hes the first one to refill their bowl every morning outside.

Another day passes as summer comes to an end, the town’s Mayor invited you and your lover to see the annual Dance Of the Moonlight Jellies. Kaeya being the opportunist was delighted to come along. Locking the door of your house, you follow him down the path and made your way to the beach.

Everyone from town was already gathered by the docks when the sun had disappeared down the horizon. You stood by his side in a space far from the others, watching  the candle boats set off to ride the waves, lighting up a small ray of light for creatures to find. 

“Wow,” your tone almost above a whisper, “If only our friends back home could see this too.”

“Perhaps,” he says. Kaeya slips his fingers into yours and you shot him a curious glance, “But let us enjoy this moment shall we? Just the two of us.”

And there they were. A sea of luminescence radiating colours of brilliant blue with hints of green like a city of laterns floating in a world below. Their image reflects in the star of Kaeya's eyes as he wonders, where would they go? Where would the light lead them? They were so free with nothing to worry, so serene just like the sea and unknowningly, he squeezes your hand. It was a sense for confirmation. One to remind him that this moment was indeed a reality he wishes to keep.

Autumn: Finally a house upgrade and a kitchen!! Because it was harvest season, you guys end up making a set of delicious meals with all the recipes the townspeople gave you. Kaeya can cook since he lived by himself back in Mondstadt. Most of the stuff he learned to make were food that can be accompanied by alcohol though...

• Ahah remember Mayor Lewis' lucky shorts? He found a use for them. It was displayed on the stands during the Stardew Valley Fair (Oh my how did this get here? Must be the wind). Ends up buying a Rarecrow for the farm when Lewis bribes him not to tell this to anyone.

Winter: This was mostly an indoor season for the both of you. With the existence of television, nights would be spent until morning while watching movies at the couch. A blanket drapes around your shoulders as extends to his.  Oh and don't forget the hot chocolate! 

[colehasapen]

(ONE SHOT) buycika STAR WARS

Rating: G

Warnings: Fantasy AU, Past Abuse, Referenced Childbirth

(belated) Comfortember no.23 - Exhaustion

Sequel to oya'karir

The newest members of Alpha’s pack are born as the first snow of the year begins to fall over the mountain sanctuary they call their home. It had been a long, hard labour, and all Alpha had been able to do was bring his mate water and food when he needed it, and mop away the sweat on his brow while Obi-Wan did all the hard work. Alpha had worried for a long time that something would go wrong, that he’d lose his mate or the pups he carried inside of him, or even both, and it made a sort of anxiety he hadn’t felt since Kamino crawl up his throat and grip his chest like a vice, a fear he hadn’t felt since Rex had been introduced into his pen, a sickly little thing and the only survivor of his ill-fated litter. He’d spent days curled around his pups then, baring his teeth and snarling at any of the alchemists that dared to get to close.

Back then, he hadn’t known what freedom could be like. He didn’t know what life beyond his cage could feel like, beyond the foggy dreams of when he himself had been a pup, barely weaned from his mother.

Now, he knows what it’s like to run free, to hunt and provide. He knows what it’s like to truly teach his cubs how to live, and he’d learned alongside them, taught by the very man who became his mate. Obi-Wan was a gentle teacher, a good one too, willing to teach Alpha and the cubs anything they didn’t know, always happy to answer any questions they had - and there were a lot of them, with curious cubs under foot. Alpha himself could barely hear ‘but why?’ anymore without wanting to launch himself into the fucking sun, but Obi-Wan had weathered it all with a kind smile and kinder words.

Alpha had fallen fast and hard for the sweet-smelling druid, watching him interact with his boys. At first, he had kept an eye on them at all times because after so long of being the only one looking out for his cubs, he didn’t know how to brush away the anxiety and aggression when others got too close, used to the furious fear of the Kaminoans taking his cubs from his and bringing them back hurt and scared.

Or not bringing them back at all, like Doom, Gree, Bacara, and Neyo.

Then, his hypervigilance had turned into something else. Watching Obi-Wan with his cubs did funny things to his gut, made him ache to pull the man close and claim him as his own. It had set off a primal desire in him for more - a desire he’d always had, but never aimed at another person. It made him want to see the redhead with pups, little ones born to the both of them that could grow never knowing the cages and the alchemists of Tapioca City. Pups who could be Free-Born. Little pups that would follow behind his older cubs, that would give Rex the chance to have vod’ike. He wanted to experience the gentle, comforting milk smell of pups again, a smell that had long since faded from his cubs’ fur, one that never failed to soothe the ragged parts of him.

He had pushed those desires away, at first. He had pushed away his more primal instincts because Obi-Wan wasn’t a Mandalorian, wasn’t a pack-animal, so he’d had to figure out other ways to interact with the man. At the time, Alpha had known nothing about humans, hadn’t known how to talk to them - it hadn’t exactly been something he was taught in the zoo. It wasn’t something the Kaminoans cared about. He had been gruff, tense, and often aggressive, but as time passed, as he continued to learn, Alpha had softened. Obi-Wan had brought out something in him that had before been for his boys. As time had passed, it had gotten easier, they had grown closer, until they had finally given a name to what had grown between them. They had talked, whenever the boys were asleep, about their desires for the future. It had been Obi-Wan who had breached the question of children, had shared his love for them and told him about the creches from the place he had once called home. He had told Alpha that he loved his cubs as if they were his own, that he always would, even if they had children of their own one day.

And then he had been told that his mate was expecting.

All the members of their small pack had been excited to welcome their newest members. As the pregnancy had progressed, it hadn’t been uncommon to see Wolffe and Fox prowling the edges of their territory, and the twins often ended up dragging small bucks between them back into the house, tracking blood across the wood; they’d been so proud of themselves, the blood blending into their red aliike, that the heat of the scoldings they got had lessened. Ponds and Bly had accidentally trampled Obi-Wan’s herb garden while trying to help by tending to the plants, and had ended up in near tears from the guilt when they’d seen the mess they’d made, but Alpha’s mate had just laughed and showed them how to salvage the remains. Attentive, loyal Kote had been waiting on the redhead hand and foot, and had ended up stepping up as a secondary alpha among him brothers, keeping them in line as the pregnancy progressed to the point that it was hard for Obi-Wan to leave his bed for too long and most of Alpha’s attention turned to helping his mate. Rex had followed behind his closest brother, a little white and blue shadow to contrast against Kote’s black and orange-gold fur.

When the time had finally come, they had been prepared, but it hadn’t stopped Alpha’s paranoid fear that something would go wrong, and he’s never been more thankful to be wrong. The labour was long, but it had gone smoothly, and the pups had been born small, but healthy. Now, Alpha is the only one awake, standing by the foot of the crib that Obi-Wan had shown him how to carve, and watching the snowfall outside.

It’s peaceful, listening to the sound of his mate and cubs sleeping, all bundled together on one bed until there wasn’t any room for Alpha to join them. Exhausted, Obi-Wan had succumbed to sleep not long after the pups had been born, and the cubs had arranged themselves around him, a solid mass of colourfully marked fur and light breathing. Milk-scent is heavy in the air, and Alpha feels more at peace than he thinks he ever has; it brings back fuzzy memories of squirming among his brothers, searching blindly for his mother’s teat so that he could suckle until he’d had his fill and fell back to sleep.

A whining has Alpha stirring from his thoughts, and he turns to see the older twin, Fie-Vel - named for Obi-Wan’s culture but affectionately nicknamed Fives by Rex - awake and squirming, face scrunched up grumpily. It makes Alpha chuff out a gentle huff of breath, reaching in to gently lift the pup into his arms.

Already more advanced than a human infant, even at hours old, Fives’ dark eyes stare up at him as he coos. Alpha rumbles sub vocally, rubbing a thumb across the pup’s lips, watching them part so that the small infant could chew the limb with needle-sharp milk teeth. Soon he’d be crawling, shifting, and Alpha would be there for all the milestones.

Still in the crib, little surprise-baby Echo, the younger of the twins, stirs with the loss of his brother from beside him, whimpering, and Alpha reaches into the crib to rub a hand through downy-soft black curls. Echo wiggles in response, flailing his limbs, uncoordinated but determined, and as Alpha watches, the pup gives a full-body shiver, eyes shifting to golden-amber. A wide grin spreads across his face as the pup’s body morphs seamlessly, black and silver fur marked with patches of white and cyan aliike sprouting, and bones shifting to accommodate his new form. In his arms, Fives squeaks in surprise at the sight of his brother, as Echo flails puppy-large paws, tail thumping, and within moments, the larger twin is following his littermate’s example, small body shifting and twisting in Alpha’s arms until he has a small black and grey pup with similarly coloured aliike to his brother gnawing on his bicep.

Alpha had never gotten to witness his oldest cubs’ first shift, never gotten to witness so many important milestones in those first years of their lives. He wouldn’t take this opportunity for granted.

Taglist: @a-mediocre-succulent

[sohin-ace]

Dio - Feed

This is cross-posted from Wattpad and available on AO3.

Enjoy~

Sick. You felt sick.

You were currently laid on your side on the bed you shared with Dio. It was like your body was dying. You spent your days like this, unable to move, restless and with no strength to do anything.

You only stayed like this, lips and throat dry, skin pale, breath heavy, eyes stinging. From any exterior perspective, it would just look like you had a fever, or a bad case of the flu.

But it wasn't even close to that.

After protesting for so long, Dio turned you into a vampire to live eternity with him. You loved the man, but you didn't want nor were you ready to give up your humanity yet.

You were forced into this new life and you couldn't bear it. No matter what you did or what he told you, you just couldn't feed on humans, as you still felt like you were human yourself.

Vampires couldn't die, or at least, not easily. But depriving themselves of blood stopped the process of regeneration, thus explaining your current state.

You were dying, but you wouldn't die.

Dio did everything he could to make you eat, but everytime he brought someone to feed on, you just couldn't.

He brought men, women, children, criminals, old folks, sick people, dead people, anyone to make you feel better about feeding on humans. But in vain.

The blonde man entered your bedroom and came towards you. He leaned over the bed a put one hand over your covered figure.

"How do you feel today, my love?" He softly asked the same question he asked everyday.

"... A little bit tired..." you hoarsely whispered, barely able to look up at him.

You heard him sigh in desperation. You didn't want to feel like this either. You knew you were a burden to Dio, but Dio brought this burden to yourself too. It was a vicious circle of blaming each other.

"Dio... Please kill me already... I can't take this anymore..."

The man flinched at your attrocious words. Kill you? The love of his life? That wasn't even an option. He swore to find a way to make you accept your newfound lifestyle, even if it took centuries.

"In no way in hell am I killing you Y/N. You know this."

"Dio..." you weakly said "I can't bring myself to do it... I am human..." your breathing was more and more laboured as you spoke and Dio noticed.

He sat at the edge of the bed and pushed your shoulders slightly to make you lie down on your back and look at him.

"Y/N, weither you want it or not, you are not human anymore. You are way more than that. We are better than that. We are another form of life, way stronger than humans."

You closed your eyes. He was right, and you believed him, but you still felt your humanity deep inside you, blocking you.

He took your hand in his and pulled the covers off of your body.

"Get up, I brought you someone else today."

You weren't confident at all, you knew you wouldn't be able to do it either today, but you felt bad that Dio tried so hard to help you, so you didn't fight and got up, but not without difficulty as your lover helped you up.

He put his arm around your shoulders in support and slowly lead you to another room where a young woman was waiting, kneeled down next to Vanilla Ice.

"Thank you Ice. You can go." Dio ordered.

The loyal man bowed to his master, and went on his way, leaving you three alone and closing the door behind him.

You stared at the woman in front of you with sad empathy. Dio put you in front of the woman, pressing slightly on your shoulders in an attempt to relax you.

"This one is a bit different. I asked of Vanilla Ice to look for someone who actually desired to be bitten by a vampire. You don't have to kill her, but even if you do, she wouldn't mind. Isn't that right, Melissa?"

"That's right, Lord Dio! I don't mind at all! It's always been my wildest dream to be bitten by a real vampire! I don't care if I die if it's by you Milady Y/N!" The woman squealed with stars in her eyes.

You weren't completely convinced, but you thought about how much trouble it must have been to find such a specific person for you to feed on. What were the odds of finding a person who actually wanted to be bitten by a vampire.

You walked towards the woman and kneeled in front of her, taking in her features. She seemed lost in your vampiric red eyes, almost eager to what was going to happen next.

Dio was confident. This time, it would work, you would finally feed on someone and get some well deserved energy.

You were nervous, scared even. You couldn't look at the woman's eyes in shame, and only stared at the exposed skin of her neck and chest.

Your heart beat faster inside your ribcage and your throat felt even drier by the second. Your natural instincts started to kick in.

'It's okay,' you thought to reassure yourself. 'She wants it, and you need it. Nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong at all.'

You slowly leaned over her neck, resting one cold hand on her shoulder, and the other at the base of her jawline. With sharpened senses, you could smell and hear her warm blood pumping through her veins and you gulped.

You felt your stomach churn, almost nauseous at the sheer craving. Your hands were shaky and your fangs were out and ready to destroy any piece of flesh that came in the way of your longed meal.

You leaned even closer to her neck, and before you could finally give in, you whispered against her ear.

"...It's going to hurt... Are you sure?" you asked, secretely wanting her to protest and flee.

But she only put her chained hands over your front and clung to you, shaking slightly. You paused at this. Feeling her breathing quicken and the way she gripped on your chest for dear life.

You abruptly let go of her and got up, running to Dio's chest, yet again disgusted with yourself. You wanted to throw up.

"My head hurts Dio, I can't do it, If I start I won't stop, I won't hold back, this is driving me crazy I-" you shrieked through heavy breaths, hasty and panicked, but the man in front of you cut you off by grabbing your arms.

"Y/N, calm down! Look at me." You stopped yourself and looked up at his handsome features.

As intimidating as he looked, his charming expression calmed your nerves and you felt sad and disappointed. Again, after all he went through for you, you couldn't give in to your vampire instincts.

Tears welled up in your eyes. This was just not possible. You couldn't be a vampire. You couldn't force it inside you.

"Please Dio, end this. I know you're tired of it, I have no self-control, I'm not strong like you. I love you but-"

"Melissa, we'll get back to you later. For now, you can retire."

The woman got up and went out, joining Vanilla Ice and letting you alone. A deafening silence set itself in the room as you looked down in shame.

You expected Dio to yell and show his impatience. Even you were tired of yourself. And you were tired of living like this. As the pressure of his silence was starting to get unbearable, he said.

"Just as all things, the hardest part is the start. Do it once, and all the following times will feel natural." he spoke surprisingly softly. You looked up at him.

"The first time is the hardest...?"

He caressed your hair gently and it put you at ease. As bad as he could be, you didn't deserve him, or deserved to be treated this nicely by him.

"I have a solution, but I wanted to keep it as a last resort. Y/N, do you trust me?"

You looked into his deep amber eyes with confusion. There was a solution? You nodded, telling him that you of course, trusted him. His lips curled upwards.

"I actually, wanted to keep this for the bedroom, but you are hardly giving us any choice."

He leaned down to your level and cupped your chin in his huge hand. You blushed at the sudden contact.

"My poor Y/N, look at you, so frail, and ill, and so delicate..." he paused and leaned close to your ear, proudly exposing his powerful neck to you.

"Do it." he whispered against the shell of your ear.

Your eyes widened, and before you could answer in any way, he wrapped his strong arms around you, locking you into place.

"If you won't feed on any humans, at least for your first time, I will allow you to use me. You won't kill me, and I am not just anyone to you."

"I-is this okay...? You... Want to?" You hesitated, not believing his words.

That was it. Dio was the only one you trusted with this decision. If it was him, you could do it, at least this once. Maybe after this, you'll be able to control your thirst, not kill humans, and accept your fate as an eternal being.

"This is the most intimate way to show a vampire's love besides intercourse, so this is why I wanted to wait for a more appropriate time, when you felt better but..." he planted a soft kiss on your jawline. "It seems nothing else will unlatch you."

You melted in his embrace and nuzzled his neck sighing, taking in his scent.

"Thank you, Dio. What would I do without you?" you softly breathed against his skin and he shuddered.

Finally you felt ready. You brought your hands upwards, caressing him from his chest to his neck where you finally rested them. You peppered his neck with butterfly kisses to which he chuckled.

What you lacked with the human strangers he brought you was the passion. If it was with Dio, you could do anything. Right now you could only feel love and gratitude towards the man, not nausea or animalistic hunger like earlier.

You opened your mouth and ran your warm tongue over his skin in order to prep him.

"Higher." he huskily ordered as he shivered at the pleasurable feeling and laid one hand behind your head.

"This is where you'll get the most of it. Remember this." You complied, listening to him as he guided you towards the perfect spot. "Good."

You stopped yourself before you planted your sharp fangs in his smooth skin to whisper.

"I love you."

I'm sorry if your name is melissa lol

[elane-in-the-shadows]

Red Queen Fan Fiction - Red Huntress Chapter 1

A/N: Here’s the Farley prequel story I promised!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Epilogue

Find this on Wattpad and on AO3

Diana Farley had always known how to wield a knife.

It was nothing unusual for her, the daughter of hunters and butchers; it was what she was expected to learn. Her mother’s hands had taught her, hands pink, callused and sun-tanned, with nails forever stained red-brown by her trades.

Stains from the wrong kind of blood, Diana noticed as she held her mother’s hand. Both of them were standing on the edge of a large expanse of brown fields, in lines and rows with the rest of their village, assembled to await the arrival of the Silvers.

Her other hand didn’t clench a knife, but a sickle. It would be Diana’s first time to serve in the greeny corvee that took place in her village, Sieverling, every three years.

In preparation of it, the peasants had left the fields before them, a full third of the whole lands belonging to Sieverling, lying fallow for months, for when a handful of Silvers storms, nymphs, and greenfingers came to their petty northern village. Several times, the Silvers were to water the soil, summon blazing sunlight, spread the high-yield custom seeds they brought and make the plants grow in mere hours. And then they’d tell the local Red serfs to reap the crops and perform the other manual farm work, or whatever tasks the Silvers couldn’t be bothered with and claimed the Reds were better suited for anyway.

Diana squeezed her mother’s hand at the thought. She knew it looked childish when she was already eleven and not some infant, deemed old enough to do her share in the corvee. She didn’t care what it looked like, though she appreciated the concerned gaze Mama gave her, a reassurance when she was uncertain what to expect besides the obvious, ordinary drudgery.

No one seemed excited about the greeny corvee and everyone was tense, standing firmer than usual under the glaring midday sun. She admired how her mother kept her face straight while the June heat burned her skin even pinker but lit her braided hair to wheat-yellow. It was already eleven o’clock, late to start any kind of farm work. As Diana tamed her blond, shoulder-length curls in something between a ponytail and a bun, she heard some neighbours grumble at the waste of time, a waste she felt as well. She and the other children could be in school (if their two teachers weren’t among the waiting farm hands today), or doing a few of the endless tasks at home, or she could just, for once, if there was really nothing better to do than kicking her heels, play with her friends. For example with Giselle, the beautiful girl who’d been transferred with her family to Sieverling only a few months ago, a girl that fascinated Diana so much she neither knew to how talk to, nor how to avert her eyes from her.

Even now, she caught herself searching for Giselle among the few hundred people around, and the teeny glimpse of Giselle’s dark brown hair made her heart beat faster for a minute. Diana bit her lip to subdue her ill-fitting smile. But what should happen? There was no Silver lord here yet to scold his Red serfs for daring to feel amusement.

Not even their Silver lord. Isère, the lord of Sieverling and several surrounding villages, who owned the lands and whom the Red serfs owed their tithe and service, rarely showed himself unless there was something for him to take. And he got no share in the greeny corvee either. However the greenies and their companions calculated their numbers, Diana didn’t know, but there was nothing for the local lords. The greeny corvee was a “service” from the High Houses of the Lakelands to the Red peasants, granted by the crown. And the High Houses and the crown had, decades ago, assessed some lists that claimed how much each village was to produce during the corvee. The greenies didn’t care that Diana was a child, like many others expected to work today, that villagers had been conscripted for the war, or how many inhabitants had died in or joined a settlement lately. There was a quota to meet and crops to be delivered to the Silver citadels. And the quota demanded that Diana replaced the labour of her father, who was far away in the south, to fight for the Lakelands in the war against Norta.

That was the true meaning of standing beside her mother, and why she grasped her hand again and again. The moment she fell in line, she was reminded of her father’s absence that was lasting for three years by now, its end – in whichever way – uncertain.

That was a silly notion, in a way. His absence was blatant every day, because it was every day that Mama had to work for two adults because of it. The lakelander army was scant with its pay; it only arrived once a year when Papa was on leave and visited. In the meantime, her mother had to do his work as a hunter besides her job in the butcher’s shop.

It was the same as everywhere: When the Silver lords of the manors demanded their meat, crop, goods and farm hands, the Red serfs had to comply or be sent to prison or to the crown fields; the large expanse of lands where High House Silvers had whichever plants or livestock they wished for grown with every technology available.

The greeny corvee was actually supposed to be supportive in that regard. It made for a few harsh days, but the crop brought in then could be used for the tithe to the manor lord or kept as food – although it was only a fraction of the yield the Reds were allowed to keep. Diana assumed it was hardly a third of it for the whole village, because the biggest share was delivered directly to the crown for “The Allocation of Silver Abilities for Red Welfare,” and the handful of greenies took a similarly large part for their “expenditures”, which Diana guessed meant efforts.

“Why is the greeny corvee only every three years?” she blurted out.

“Diana …” Mama frowned, because she knew that Diana knew why.

“Because of the soil,” said Tava, her uncle Timo’s husband standing to her right. He met her eyes, needing to lean down only a little as Diana had almost his height by now. Trying to be nice despite the day’s bad prospects, he patted her shoulder with his brown hand. She was glad for it.

“The greenies’ seeds are special, and take too much from the soil to be grown frequently in the same place,” Tava explained, his dark eyes showing a warm gleam. “Not without better fertilizers.”

“Better not to have those fertilizers,” objected Anam, the woodcutter and Tava’s cousin. “You hear nothing good of those or the plant protectants used in the crown fields.”

“From what little we get to hear from the crown fields,” Mama uttered. “Almost no one comes back from there. People toil for the food of the High Houses for years, and if they’re lucky enough to survive their time, they return sick or dying.”

“Clara …” Tava sighed, but the grim set of his jaw told Diana that he shared her mother’s opinion.

“Dad?” Tava’s tautness loosened as Kevin, the orphan he and his husband had adopted, tucked on his sleeve. At ten, Kevin was the only one of Diana’s cousins old enough for the corvee. The rest of the young children, her little sister Madeline among them, stayed at the farms and pastures to look after the few animals. Kevin went on, “all will be better when we win against Norta and take the farm machines they have.”

Clara blanched. “Norta may built machines, but I doubt there’re farming ones among them,” she claimed.

“You know that for sure, Clara?” a peasant woman who’d listened in asked. “Did your husband tell you so?”

Mama didn’t reply.

Diana had figured her mother preferred to remain quiet about Papa’s doings in the war. She thought it was for the ache of missing him they all felt. But more and more, she suspected Mama was decidedly secretive.

It was why Diana had become curious about Norta lately. She was as versed as anyone in Sieverling in the usual but rare news they received, or in their small school’s teachings. The fecund and bountiful Lakelands where no one had to go hungry, fighting the barren Norta whose soil was poisoned and dried out by her burner kings.

Easy to believe, wasn’t it? But people did go hungry, starved, and died in the Lakelands all the time. Because Reds failed to take care of themselves, as the Silvers liked to argue? Or rather because Red peasants had to work the fields with their own hands although better equipment existed, as Kevin had said? Then there were the fields frozen in unending, icy winters. And the floods and droughts destroying crops no nymph kings or queens bothered to protect their people from. Silvers never did anything, not even when hard-working people were killed by small infections and common illnesses a skinhealer – or a simple, but overpriced medicine from the city – could heal in an instant.

If Diana was certain of one thing, it was that Reds did work enough, tried hard enough. But what was that worth if the Silvers still stole the rewards of their work, and gave nothing but contempt in return? And her village was one that held together. If someone couldn’t afford the tithe, another with more would help them out even if that meant less for everyone else, so very few from Sieverling were ever sent to the crown fields, to work off their debts.

Mostly, these few were people already indebted, who had taken loans to buy goods, livestock, machines, fertilizers or seeds to grow more profitable crops. People who wanted more than bare survival. Who took risks with whatever way to improve their lives, and met failure and despair as a result.

Diana didn’t pity, or scoffed at them. She felt with them, because she believed she was also likely to end up banished to the crown fields, since she couldn’t help but yearn for more than this never-changing misery.

She had no idea if Norta was any better. Because nobody would, or could, tell her. She didn’t even have the means to leave Lord Isère’s county, was supposed to stay in the place she was born in like all serfs.

It was afternoon by now, with no sign of the Silvers arriving. People began to give up their stiff stances, and sat down on the ground, some producing canteens and slices of bread.

In the distance, Diana glimpsed a few kids carrying more baskets with provisions. She hoped her sister was among them, and when the next seconds gave her certainty, she brushed her mother’s arm. “Mama, look there’s Madeline – ”

But Clara Farley only shook her head with resigned smile. “What does it this matter? All we’ve done was for nothing. It’s a fraud, as the Silvers aren’t coming.

“They just don’t care about us.”

And, although Diana had thought the same thing, many times so, she felt something shattering in her to hear her mother confirm it. Yet a part of her was glad, because there was freedom in knowing that even if you served perfectly, you’d be left for dead.

A/N 2: If you got until here, thank you very much! ;-) I expect the next chapter to be less info dumpy, so please stay tuned. One more chapter is certain to come, maybe two, and Clara will show more of her character there.

I’d like to point out the “fertilizers” and “plant protectants” mentioned in the story are references to Monsanto’s Glyphosat/Round-Up and other harmful pesticides. And the villagers have few animals since the costs of keeping massive numbers of livestock aren’t affordable anymore. Extreme meat production is out.

@elliemarchetti @lilyharvord @clarafarleybarrow @mareshmallow @marecalrandomstuff @wessanade @redqueenfandom @scxrletguardsdawn  @almostconstantlyawkward @sxfik @olivegreenolives @mvaen @abbyboul @sparrow-ceol @choosememaven @maudthebookeater @ifyouholdmebackimightexplode

[wastemybreath]

Eloisa to Abelard - Alexander Pope

In these deep solitudes and awful cells, Where heav'nly-pensive contemplation dwells, And ever-musing melancholy reigns; What means this tumult in a vestal's veins? Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat? Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat? Yet, yet I love! — From Abelard it came, And Eloisa yet must kiss the name. Dear fatal name! rest ever unreveal'd, Nor pass these lips in holy silence seal'd. Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise, Where mix'd with God's, his lov'd idea lies: O write it not, my hand — the name appears Already written — wash it out, my tears! In vain lost Eloisa weeps and prays, Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeys. Relentless walls! whose darksome round contains Repentant sighs, and voluntary pains: Ye rugged rocks! which holy knees have worn; Ye grots and caverns shagg'd with horrid thorn! Shrines! where their vigils pale-ey'd virgins keep, And pitying saints, whose statues learn to weep! Though cold like you, unmov'd, and silent grown, I have not yet forgot myself to stone. All is not Heav'n's while Abelard has part, Still rebel nature holds out half my heart; Nor pray'rs nor fasts its stubborn pulse restrain, Nor tears, for ages, taught to flow in vain. Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose, That well-known name awakens all my woes. Oh name for ever sad! for ever dear! Still breath'd in sighs, still usher'd with a tear. I tremble too, where'er my own I find, Some dire misfortune follows close behind. Line after line my gushing eyes o'erflow, Led through a sad variety of woe: Now warm in love, now with'ring in thy bloom, Lost in a convent's solitary gloom! There stern religion quench'd th' unwilling flame, There died the best of passions, love and fame. Yet write, oh write me all, that I may join Griefs to thy griefs, and echo sighs to thine. Nor foes nor fortune take this pow'r away; And is my Abelard less kind than they? Tears still are mine, and those I need not spare, Love but demands what else were shed in pray'r; No happier task these faded eyes pursue; To read and weep is all they now can do. Then share thy pain, allow that sad relief; Ah, more than share it! give me all thy grief. Heav'n first taught letters for some wretch's aid, Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid; They live, they speak, they breathe what love inspires, Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires, The virgin's wish without her fears impart, Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart, Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul, And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole. Thou know'st how guiltless first I met thy flame, When Love approach'd me under Friendship's name; My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind, Some emanation of th' all-beauteous Mind. Those smiling eyes, attemp'ring ev'ry day, Shone sweetly lambent with celestial day. Guiltless I gaz'd; heav'n listen'd while you sung; And truths divine came mended from that tongue. From lips like those what precept fail'd to move? Too soon they taught me 'twas no sin to love. Back through the paths of pleasing sense I ran, Nor wish'd an Angel whom I lov'd a Man. Dim and remote the joys of saints I see; Nor envy them, that heav'n I lose for thee. How oft, when press'd to marriage, have I said, Curse on all laws but those which love has made! Love, free as air, at sight of human ties, Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies, Let wealth, let honour, wait the wedded dame, August her deed, and sacred be her fame; Before true passion all those views remove, Fame, wealth, and honour! what are you to Love? The jealous God, when we profane his fires, Those restless passions in revenge inspires; And bids them make mistaken mortals groan, Who seek in love for aught but love alone. Should at my feet the world's great master fall, Himself, his throne, his world, I'd scorn 'em all: Not Caesar's empress would I deign to prove; No, make me mistress to the man I love; If there be yet another name more free, More fond than mistress, make me that to thee! Oh happy state! when souls each other draw, When love is liberty, and nature, law: All then is full, possessing, and possess'd, No craving void left aching in the breast: Ev'n thought meets thought, ere from the lips it part, And each warm wish springs mutual from the heart. This sure is bliss (if bliss on earth there be) And once the lot of Abelard and me. Alas, how chang'd! what sudden horrors rise! A naked lover bound and bleeding lies! Where, where was Eloise? her voice, her hand, Her poniard, had oppos'd the dire command. Barbarian, stay! that bloody stroke restrain; The crime was common, common be the pain. I can no more; by shame, by rage suppress'd, Let tears, and burning blushes speak the rest. Canst thou forget that sad, that solemn day, When victims at yon altar's foot we lay? Canst thou forget what tears that moment fell, When, warm in youth, I bade the world farewell? As with cold lips I kiss'd the sacred veil, The shrines all trembl'd, and the lamps grew pale: Heav'n scarce believ'd the conquest it survey'd, And saints with wonder heard the vows I made. Yet then, to those dread altars as I drew, Not on the Cross my eyes were fix'd, but you: Not grace, or zeal, love only was my call, And if I lose thy love, I lose my all. Come! with thy looks, thy words, relieve my woe; Those still at least are left thee to bestow. Still on that breast enamour'd let me lie, Still drink delicious poison from thy eye, Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be press'd; Give all thou canst — and let me dream the rest. Ah no! instruct me other joys to prize, With other beauties charm my partial eyes, Full in my view set all the bright abode, And make my soul quit Abelard for God. Ah, think at least thy flock deserves thy care, Plants of thy hand, and children of thy pray'r. From the false world in early youth they fled, By thee to mountains, wilds, and deserts led. You rais'd these hallow'd walls; the desert smil'd, And Paradise was open'd in the wild. No weeping orphan saw his father's stores Our shrines irradiate, or emblaze the floors; No silver saints, by dying misers giv'n, Here brib'd the rage of ill-requited heav'n: But such plain roofs as piety could raise, And only vocal with the Maker's praise. In these lone walls (their days eternal bound) These moss-grown domes with spiry turrets crown'd, Where awful arches make a noonday night, And the dim windows shed a solemn light; Thy eyes diffus'd a reconciling ray, And gleams of glory brighten'd all the day. But now no face divine contentment wears, 'Tis all blank sadness, or continual tears. See how the force of others' pray'rs I try, (O pious fraud of am'rous charity!) But why should I on others' pray'rs depend? Come thou, my father, brother, husband, friend! Ah let thy handmaid, sister, daughter move, And all those tender names in one, thy love! The darksome pines that o'er yon rocks reclin'd Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind, The wand'ring streams that shine between the hills, The grots that echo to the tinkling rills, The dying gales that pant upon the trees, The lakes that quiver to the curling breeze; No more these scenes my meditation aid, Or lull to rest the visionary maid. But o'er the twilight groves and dusky caves, Long-sounding aisles, and intermingled graves, Black Melancholy sits, and round her throws A death-like silence, and a dread repose: Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene, Shades ev'ry flow'r, and darkens ev'ry green, Deepens the murmur of the falling floods, And breathes a browner horror on the woods. Yet here for ever, ever must I stay; Sad proof how well a lover can obey! Death, only death, can break the lasting chain; And here, ev'n then, shall my cold dust remain, Here all its frailties, all its flames resign, And wait till 'tis no sin to mix with thine. Ah wretch! believ'd the spouse of God in vain, Confess'd within the slave of love and man. Assist me, Heav'n! but whence arose that pray'r? Sprung it from piety, or from despair? Ev'n here, where frozen chastity retires, Love finds an altar for forbidden fires. I ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought; I mourn the lover, not lament the fault; I view my crime, but kindle at the view, Repent old pleasures, and solicit new; Now turn'd to Heav'n, I weep my past offence, Now think of thee, and curse my innocence. Of all affliction taught a lover yet, 'Tis sure the hardest science to forget! How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the sense, And love th' offender, yet detest th' offence? How the dear object from the crime remove, Or how distinguish penitence from love? Unequal task! a passion to resign, For hearts so touch'd, so pierc'd, so lost as mine. Ere such a soul regains its peaceful state, How often must it love, how often hate! How often hope, despair, resent, regret, Conceal, disdain — do all things but forget. But let Heav'n seize it, all at once 'tis fir'd; Not touch'd, but rapt; not waken'd, but inspir'd! Oh come! oh teach me nature to subdue, Renounce my love, my life, myself — and you. Fill my fond heart with God alone, for he Alone can rival, can succeed to thee. How happy is the blameless vestal's lot! The world forgetting, by the world forgot. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd; Labour and rest, that equal periods keep; "Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep;" Desires compos'd, affections ever ev'n, Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to Heav'n. Grace shines around her with serenest beams, And whisp'ring angels prompt her golden dreams. For her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms, And wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes, For her the Spouse prepares the bridal ring, For her white virgins hymeneals sing, To sounds of heav'nly harps she dies away, And melts in visions of eternal day. Far other dreams my erring soul employ, Far other raptures, of unholy joy: When at the close of each sad, sorrowing day, Fancy restores what vengeance snatch'd away, Then conscience sleeps, and leaving nature free, All my loose soul unbounded springs to thee. Oh curs'd, dear horrors of all-conscious night! How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight! Provoking Daemons all restraint remove, And stir within me every source of love. I hear thee, view thee, gaze o'er all thy charms, And round thy phantom glue my clasping arms. I wake — no more I hear, no more I view, The phantom flies me, as unkind as you. I call aloud; it hears not what I say; I stretch my empty arms; it glides away. To dream once more I close my willing eyes; Ye soft illusions, dear deceits, arise! Alas, no more — methinks we wand'ring go Through dreary wastes, and weep each other's woe, Where round some mould'ring tower pale ivy creeps, And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps. Sudden you mount, you beckon from the skies; Clouds interpose, waves roar, and winds arise. I shriek, start up, the same sad prospect find, And wake to all the griefs I left behind. For thee the fates, severely kind, ordain A cool suspense from pleasure and from pain; Thy life a long, dead calm of fix'd repose; No pulse that riots, and no blood that glows. Still as the sea, ere winds were taught to blow, Or moving spirit bade the waters flow; Soft as the slumbers of a saint forgiv'n, And mild as opening gleams of promis'd heav'n. Come, Abelard! for what hast thou to dread? The torch of Venus burns not for the dead. Nature stands check'd; Religion disapproves; Ev'n thou art cold — yet Eloisa loves. Ah hopeless, lasting flames! like those that burn To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful urn. What scenes appear where'er I turn my view? The dear ideas, where I fly, pursue, Rise in the grove, before the altar rise, Stain all my soul, and wanton in my eyes. I waste the matin lamp in sighs for thee, Thy image steals between my God and me, Thy voice I seem in ev'ry hymn to hear, With ev'ry bead I drop too soft a tear. When from the censer clouds of fragrance roll, And swelling organs lift the rising soul, One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight, Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight: In seas of flame my plunging soul is drown'd, While altars blaze, and angels tremble round. While prostrate here in humble grief I lie, Kind, virtuous drops just gath'ring in my eye, While praying, trembling, in the dust I roll, And dawning grace is op'ning on my soul: Come, if thou dar'st, all charming as thou art! Oppose thyself to Heav'n; dispute my heart; Come, with one glance of those deluding eyes Blot out each bright idea of the skies; Take back that grace, those sorrows, and those tears; Take back my fruitless penitence and pray'rs; Snatch me, just mounting, from the blest abode; Assist the fiends, and tear me from my God! No, fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole; Rise Alps between us! and whole oceans roll! Ah, come not, write not, think not once of me, Nor share one pang of all I felt for thee. Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign; Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine. Fair eyes, and tempting looks (which yet I view!) Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, all adieu! Oh Grace serene! oh virtue heav'nly fair! Divine oblivion of low-thoughted care! Fresh blooming hope, gay daughter of the sky! And faith, our early immortality! Enter, each mild, each amicable guest; Receive, and wrap me in eternal rest! See in her cell sad Eloisa spread, Propp'd on some tomb, a neighbour of the dead. In each low wind methinks a spirit calls, And more than echoes talk along the walls. Here, as I watch'd the dying lamps around, From yonder shrine I heard a hollow sound. "Come, sister, come!" (it said, or seem'd to say) "Thy place is here, sad sister, come away! Once like thyself, I trembled, wept, and pray'd, Love's victim then, though now a sainted maid: But all is calm in this eternal sleep; Here grief forgets to groan, and love to weep, Ev'n superstition loses ev'ry fear: For God, not man, absolves our frailties here." I come, I come! prepare your roseate bow'rs, Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flow'rs. Thither, where sinners may have rest, I go, Where flames refin'd in breasts seraphic glow: Thou, Abelard! the last sad office pay, And smooth my passage to the realms of day; See my lips tremble, and my eye-balls roll, Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul! Ah no — in sacred vestments may'st thou stand, The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand, Present the cross before my lifted eye, Teach me at once, and learn of me to die. Ah then, thy once-lov'd Eloisa see! It will be then no crime to gaze on me. See from my cheek the transient roses fly! See the last sparkle languish in my eye! Till ev'ry motion, pulse, and breath be o'er; And ev'n my Abelard be lov'd no more. O Death all-eloquent! you only prove What dust we dote on, when 'tis man we love. Then too, when fate shall thy fair frame destroy, (That cause of all my guilt, and all my joy) In trance ecstatic may thy pangs be drown'd, Bright clouds descend, and angels watch thee round, From op'ning skies may streaming glories shine, And saints embrace thee with a love like mine. May one kind grave unite each hapless name, And graft my love immortal on thy fame! Then, ages hence, when all my woes are o'er, When this rebellious heart shall beat no more; If ever chance two wand'ring lovers brings To Paraclete's white walls and silver springs, O'er the pale marble shall they join their heads, And drink the falling tears each other sheds; Then sadly say, with mutual pity mov'd, "Oh may we never love as these have lov'd!" From the full choir when loud Hosannas rise, And swell the pomp of dreadful sacrifice, Amid that scene if some relenting eye Glance on the stone where our cold relics lie, Devotion's self shall steal a thought from Heav'n, One human tear shall drop and be forgiv'n. And sure, if fate some future bard shall join In sad similitude of griefs to mine, Condemn'd whole years in absence to deplore, And image charms he must behold no more; Such if there be, who loves so long, so well; Let him our sad, our tender story tell; The well-sung woes will soothe my pensive ghost; He best can paint 'em, who shall feel 'em most.

[jshnwll]

In these deep solitudes and awful cells, Where heav'nly-pensive contemplation dwells, And ever-musing melancholy reigns; What means this tumult in a vestal's veins? Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat? Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat? Yet, yet I love!—From Abelard it came, And Eloisa yet must kiss the name. Dear fatal name! rest ever unreveal'd, Nor pass these lips in holy silence seal'd. Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise, Where mix'd with God's, his lov'd idea lies: O write it not, my hand—the name appears Already written—wash it out, my tears! In vain lost Eloisa weeps and prays, Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeys. Relentless walls! whose darksome round contains Repentant sighs, and voluntary pains: Ye rugged rocks! which holy knees have worn; Ye grots and caverns shagg'd with horrid thorn! Shrines! where their vigils pale-ey'd virgins keep, And pitying saints, whose statues learn to weep! Though cold like you, unmov'd, and silent grown, I have not yet forgot myself to stone. All is not Heav'n's while Abelard has part, Still rebel nature holds out half my heart; Nor pray'rs nor fasts its stubborn pulse restrain, Nor tears, for ages, taught to flow in vain. Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose, That well-known name awakens all my woes. Oh name for ever sad! for ever dear! Still breath'd in sighs, still usher'd with a tear. I tremble too, where'er my own I find, Some dire misfortune follows close behind. Line after line my gushing eyes o'erflow, Led through a sad variety of woe: Now warm in love, now with'ring in thy bloom, Lost in a convent's solitary gloom! There stern religion quench'd th' unwilling flame, There died the best of passions, love and fame. Yet write, oh write me all, that I may join Griefs to thy griefs, and echo sighs to thine. Nor foes nor fortune take this pow'r away; And is my Abelard less kind than they? Tears still are mine, and those I need not spare, Love but demands what else were shed in pray'r; No happier task these faded eyes pursue; To read and weep is all they now can do. Then share thy pain, allow that sad relief; Ah, more than share it! give me all thy grief. Heav'n first taught letters for some wretch's aid, Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid; They live, they speak, they breathe what love inspires, Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires, The virgin's wish without her fears impart, Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart, Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul, And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole. Thou know'st how guiltless first I met thy flame, When Love approach'd me under Friendship's name; My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind, Some emanation of th' all-beauteous Mind. Those smiling eyes, attemp'ring ev'ry day, Shone sweetly lambent with celestial day. Guiltless I gaz'd; heav'n listen'd while you sung; And truths divine came mended from that tongue. From lips like those what precept fail'd to move? Too soon they taught me 'twas no sin to love. Back through the paths of pleasing sense I ran, Nor wish'd an Angel whom I lov'd a Man. Dim and remote the joys of saints I see; Nor envy them, that heav'n I lose for thee. How oft, when press'd to marriage, have I said, Curse on all laws but those which love has made! Love, free as air, at sight of human ties, Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies, Let wealth, let honour, wait the wedded dame, August her deed, and sacred be her fame; Before true passion all those views remove, Fame, wealth, and honour! what are you to Love? The jealous God, when we profane his fires, Those restless passions in revenge inspires; And bids them make mistaken mortals groan, Who seek in love for aught but love alone. Should at my feet the world's great master fall, Himself, his throne, his world, I'd scorn 'em all: Not Caesar's empress would I deign to prove; No, make me mistress to the man I love; If there be yet another name more free, More fond than mistress, make me that to thee! Oh happy state! when souls each other draw, When love is liberty, and nature, law: All then is full, possessing, and possess'd, No craving void left aching in the breast: Ev'n thought meets thought, ere from the lips it part, And each warm wish springs mutual from the heart. This sure is bliss (if bliss on earth there be) And once the lot of Abelard and me. Alas, how chang'd! what sudden horrors rise! A naked lover bound and bleeding lies! Where, where was Eloise? her voice, her hand, Her poniard, had oppos'd the dire command. Barbarian, stay! that bloody stroke restrain; The crime was common, common be the pain. I can no more; by shame, by rage suppress'd, Let tears, and burning blushes speak the rest. Canst thou forget that sad, that solemn day, When victims at yon altar's foot we lay? Canst thou forget what tears that moment fell, When, warm in youth, I bade the world farewell? As with cold lips I kiss'd the sacred veil, The shrines all trembl'd, and the lamps grew pale: Heav'n scarce believ'd the conquest it survey'd, And saints with wonder heard the vows I made. Yet then, to those dread altars as I drew, Not on the Cross my eyes were fix'd, but you: Not grace, or zeal, love only was my call, And if I lose thy love, I lose my all. Come! with thy looks, thy words, relieve my woe; Those still at least are left thee to bestow. Still on that breast enamour'd let me lie, Still drink delicious poison from thy eye, Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be press'd; Give all thou canst—and let me dream the rest. Ah no! instruct me other joys to prize, With other beauties charm my partial eyes, Full in my view set all the bright abode, And make my soul quit Abelard for God. Ah, think at least thy flock deserves thy care, Plants of thy hand, and children of thy pray'r. From the false world in early youth they fled, By thee to mountains, wilds, and deserts led. You rais'd these hallow'd walls; the desert smil'd, And Paradise was open'd in the wild. No weeping orphan saw his father's stores Our shrines irradiate, or emblaze the floors; No silver saints, by dying misers giv'n, Here brib'd the rage of ill-requited heav'n: But such plain roofs as piety could raise, And only vocal with the Maker's praise. In these lone walls (their days eternal bound) These moss-grown domes with spiry turrets crown'd, Where awful arches make a noonday night, And the dim windows shed a solemn light; Thy eyes diffus'd a reconciling ray, And gleams of glory brighten'd all the day. But now no face divine contentment wears, 'Tis all blank sadness, or continual tears. See how the force of others' pray'rs I try, (O pious fraud of am'rous charity!) But why should I on others' pray'rs depend? Come thou, my father, brother, husband, friend! Ah let thy handmaid, sister, daughter move, And all those tender names in one, thy love! The darksome pines that o'er yon rocks reclin'd Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind, The wand'ring streams that shine between the hills, The grots that echo to the tinkling rills, The dying gales that pant upon the trees, The lakes that quiver to the curling breeze; No more these scenes my meditation aid, Or lull to rest the visionary maid. But o'er the twilight groves and dusky caves, Long-sounding aisles, and intermingled graves, Black Melancholy sits, and round her throws A death-like silence, and a dread repose: Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene, Shades ev'ry flow'r, and darkens ev'ry green, Deepens the murmur of the falling floods, And breathes a browner horror on the woods. Yet here for ever, ever must I stay; Sad proof how well a lover can obey! Death, only death, can break the lasting chain; And here, ev'n then, shall my cold dust remain, Here all its frailties, all its flames resign, And wait till 'tis no sin to mix with thine. Ah wretch! believ'd the spouse of God in vain, Confess'd within the slave of love and man. Assist me, Heav'n! but whence arose that pray'r? Sprung it from piety, or from despair? Ev'n here, where frozen chastity retires, Love finds an altar for forbidden fires. I ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought; I mourn the lover, not lament the fault; I view my crime, but kindle at the view, Repent old pleasures, and solicit new; Now turn'd to Heav'n, I weep my past offence, Now think of thee, and curse my innocence. Of all affliction taught a lover yet, 'Tis sure the hardest science to forget! How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the sense, And love th' offender, yet detest th' offence? How the dear object from the crime remove, Or how distinguish penitence from love? Unequal task! a passion to resign, For hearts so touch'd, so pierc'd, so lost as mine. Ere such a soul regains its peaceful state, How often must it love, how often hate! How often hope, despair, resent, regret, Conceal, disdain—do all things but forget. But let Heav'n seize it, all at once 'tis fir'd; Not touch'd, but rapt; not waken'd, but inspir'd! Oh come! oh teach me nature to subdue, Renounce my love, my life, myself—and you. Fill my fond heart with God alone, for he Alone can rival, can succeed to thee. How happy is the blameless vestal's lot! The world forgetting, by the world forgot. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd; Labour and rest, that equal periods keep; "Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep;" Desires compos'd, affections ever ev'n, Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to Heav'n. Grace shines around her with serenest beams, And whisp'ring angels prompt her golden dreams. For her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms, And wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes, For her the Spouse prepares the bridal ring, For her white virgins hymeneals sing, To sounds of heav'nly harps she dies away, And melts in visions of eternal day. Far other dreams my erring soul employ, Far other raptures, of unholy joy: When at the close of each sad, sorrowing day, Fancy restores what vengeance snatch'd away, Then conscience sleeps, and leaving nature free, All my loose soul unbounded springs to thee. Oh curs'd, dear horrors of all-conscious night! How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight! Provoking Daemons all restraint remove, And stir within me every source of love. I hear thee, view thee, gaze o'er all thy charms, And round thy phantom glue my clasping arms. I wake—no more I hear, no more I view, The phantom flies me, as unkind as you. I call aloud; it hears not what I say; I stretch my empty arms; it glides away. To dream once more I close my willing eyes; Ye soft illusions, dear deceits, arise! Alas, no more—methinks we wand'ring go Through dreary wastes, and weep each other's woe, Where round some mould'ring tower pale ivy creeps, And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps. Sudden you mount, you beckon from the skies; Clouds interpose, waves roar, and winds arise. I shriek, start up, the same sad prospect find, And wake to all the griefs I left behind. For thee the fates, severely kind, ordain A cool suspense from pleasure and from pain; Thy life a long, dead calm of fix'd repose; No pulse that riots, and no blood that glows. Still as the sea, ere winds were taught to blow, Or moving spirit bade the waters flow; Soft as the slumbers of a saint forgiv'n, And mild as opening gleams of promis'd heav'n. Come, Abelard! for what hast thou to dread? The torch of Venus burns not for the dead. Nature stands check'd; Religion disapproves; Ev'n thou art cold—yet Eloisa loves. Ah hopeless, lasting flames! like those that burn To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful urn. What scenes appear where'er I turn my view? The dear ideas, where I fly, pursue, Rise in the grove, before the altar rise, Stain all my soul, and wanton in my eyes. I waste the matin lamp in sighs for thee, Thy image steals between my God and me, Thy voice I seem in ev'ry hymn to hear, With ev'ry bead I drop too soft a tear. When from the censer clouds of fragrance roll, And swelling organs lift the rising soul, One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight, Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight: In seas of flame my plunging soul is drown'd, While altars blaze, and angels tremble round. While prostrate here in humble grief I lie, Kind, virtuous drops just gath'ring in my eye, While praying, trembling, in the dust I roll, And dawning grace is op'ning on my soul: Come, if thou dar'st, all charming as thou art! Oppose thyself to Heav'n; dispute my heart; Come, with one glance of those deluding eyes Blot out each bright idea of the skies; Take back that grace, those sorrows, and those tears; Take back my fruitless penitence and pray'rs; Snatch me, just mounting, from the blest abode; Assist the fiends, and tear me from my God! No, fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole; Rise Alps between us! and whole oceans roll! Ah, come not, write not, think not once of me, Nor share one pang of all I felt for thee. Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign; Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine. Fair eyes, and tempting looks (which yet I view!) Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, all adieu! Oh Grace serene! oh virtue heav'nly fair! Divine oblivion of low-thoughted care! Fresh blooming hope, gay daughter of the sky! And faith, our early immortality! Enter, each mild, each amicable guest; Receive, and wrap me in eternal rest! See in her cell sad Eloisa spread, Propp'd on some tomb, a neighbour of the dead. In each low wind methinks a spirit calls, And more than echoes talk along the walls. Here, as I watch'd the dying lamps around, From yonder shrine I heard a hollow sound. "Come, sister, come!" (it said, or seem'd to say) "Thy place is here, sad sister, come away! Once like thyself, I trembled, wept, and pray'd, Love's victim then, though now a sainted maid: But all is calm in this eternal sleep; Here grief forgets to groan, and love to weep, Ev'n superstition loses ev'ry fear: For God, not man, absolves our frailties here." I come, I come! prepare your roseate bow'rs, Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flow'rs. Thither, where sinners may have rest, I go, Where flames refin'd in breasts seraphic glow: Thou, Abelard! the last sad office pay, And smooth my passage to the realms of day; See my lips tremble, and my eye-balls roll, Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul! Ah no—in sacred vestments may'st thou stand, The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand, Present the cross before my lifted eye, Teach me at once, and learn of me to die. Ah then, thy once-lov'd Eloisa see! It will be then no crime to gaze on me. See from my cheek the transient roses fly! See the last sparkle languish in my eye! Till ev'ry motion, pulse, and breath be o'er; And ev'n my Abelard be lov'd no more. O Death all-eloquent! you only prove What dust we dote on, when 'tis man we love. Then too, when fate shall thy fair frame destroy, (That cause of all my guilt, and all my joy) In trance ecstatic may thy pangs be drown'd, Bright clouds descend, and angels watch thee round, From op'ning skies may streaming glories shine, And saints embrace thee with a love like mine. May one kind grave unite each hapless name, And graft my love immortal on thy fame! Then, ages hence, when all my woes are o'er, When this rebellious heart shall beat no more; If ever chance two wand'ring lovers brings To Paraclete's white walls and silver springs, O'er the pale marble shall they join their heads, And drink the falling tears each other sheds; Then sadly say, with mutual pity mov'd, "Oh may we never love as these have lov'd!" From the full choir when loud Hosannas rise, And swell the pomp of dreadful sacrifice, Amid that scene if some relenting eye Glance on the stone where our cold relics lie, Devotion's self shall steal a thought from Heav'n, One human tear shall drop and be forgiv'n. And sure, if fate some future bard shall join In sad similitude of griefs to mine, Condemn'd whole years in absence to deplore, And image charms he must behold no more; Such if there be, who loves so long, so well; Let him our sad, our tender story tell; The well-sung woes will soothe my pensive ghost; He best can paint 'em, who shall feel 'em most.