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libidomechanica · 6 months

Text

Then bridal bodies away

A ballad sequence

The wallow smiling wake an oak. Comes a lark hung, that I met in love’s rite me to way, I �� firmly to find shells: stretch thee more of power to turns death- bed likeness of the brings he plays, to speak for the trails’ said Cyril, having at their

daughtiest my life with agonies, with low strength to feelings to knowledge minstrel in clouds remain lifting to love? Our stones of sometimes I will be mind! But rathe you, so light&see rained ask me, descent will I oft the glowing cries, that bosome

did knowing in the dusty place of love, and, hearts are our Highness. Of the listent brow, the blindly cried my loved, and must pretty shall her move unquietly, perused upon ground some boy, our daily sail, and then, which I see if I

would not long divine to whom, in this portal, guilt on why With ropes are youngly vexes hollow him kindliest will postures our soul on all, flew in good: oh, like an old bird stifled lies, with may resigned the comforts have lost Eloise?

And with this and made me on a piece. Of tenfolds the blood on the nerves the puts on these hair beauties with loss forth the back not see till have being through the place my house, the sensuous fraud of repulsion a guess to one that he cries,

her eye. I raise say. Some steaming was, and brows, she day thee lying thou ailest air was the head such gracious square a wise was false! And unto these, howe’er thee, for all those why, he wholly did woman, express’ cheeks my own vast, and while

be them all they only from yonder more, for no ruder hue, and trees. Great the man woman Lucrece that thou not been a very will not summer’s Daught all range perfect has crannies thee, sacred fever arms, and a purposed; and young

soul, onely Winter slight, and a’ the sought I want his fair, the sky, when ye know they hunt old peace! The distant wood will be sae sweets wantine, all that picture, said: sunk, the brood; make what ever sae fu’ o’ wae! Then bridal bodies away.

She love, to sound, mongsthat haunting near, to you, law: all come to catch thro’ all-eloquent! That last and owning in her grace my hearing on the morning stairs at thought to spring. And in her hands, and each like him that dawning spare, that

errs from wall, among that meanings no double name hid from world comforted so dearest thou and dull depose hopeless dead and she loth, must below most be, for this world. Which young Lord Alfred Tennyson poetry ends. We seek a friend

in joy both springs insidious mine, wave. ’ Answer to those that blood, and years of Old England: he seem as an aim. One to force to the bounds, and breasts. For I have rank’d with had to me: I bring dew. That she graver hand mine earned angel

with a high to drink a dream of cycle round of sorrow with which like twelve forego, vnto my man wise, all. Tell her heal us I would not transplants imbibing! Of Leda, shall heard again—she work is From in their missed his way.

Six feet that in the human river thou, all whole; rise on there, in the wind my meadow, soon harp of her for that, it

muse me cold did giue that my slumbers master. Yon warm fell increase; days eternight coin your voice was the widow’d our

fur in loved on her isles of hope to think, bush flits breast-wise the solicit never night than a negative left me

figures cheek and we canker Love, art my old Florian; having pleasure harp and gazed upon grey-haire, who pleasant

through, smiles of us—a scatters may ring, till along reed, as not, far away, with thee. The claim, poor brazen footstep

leapt out of the has before though to be blow—I sweet sense gives, poets—as this set her speak, and whirl’d away, behold

me o’ mountain gladness and star— when your barks, and the flower! We sun its chilling blush’d with spices the complicit

new maim’d to clime, as now downcast thou have height not abasht: where na looked for tho’ Nature of blossoms like the for fast.

III

Till soon or is thee struck cast eyes. Still him in they saw the beating, throughts which is all that which bounds and me fight, be such Liberty. They else, richer sharpen’d in the only green he feet the mixing some weight, and world of diffusing; and

glance together age; nature to them now: she drown’d; and asserted her faith its ear when the secret me my arms long did saying home to darkness he was fairer till unlike and o’er-mastern thee, that comes right I have suffer in the

waits fades spoken the frailties, must gather obeisance, believe his doubt: but the seen! ’ Early dare with in a woman with harp ye salutes partner of unholy vapour own. The after, each time, dread thy true in my drops into the

day among they meet, upon her hay, the world that’s maling from being woo’d you again, and o’er, the spring, my heard in dispossess thrust that vain. When there. Fair Annie, ’ there were to the gold; and walk upon high, it disna becoming

but do not whatsoever shineth. Of crimson chattering with the statlier over either loves, that lives it call in they would me from a fusing to its hunger seized; and free the sighs to need coat, and night a glance of lilies a

riding worlds pass there a pit to the than them did groom, who rapt the rolling all it were God, what is endless from reach me till tossed her heart, and teach like a flight within a royallie. Like a fire the name. Are Godless bar,—now thee to constancy

heraldine, the low, and hope is sowre-breaks the sighs that he looke light; and waste than my souls! And lost tell her look’d on to offended from Astraean age, had guided with here that with the soul was gone, and yet should have him who move is doubt

vastness won’t looked her reading vain is child so fasted, naked against and lingers into Reasons of thee in patter when victor Hope was left, not a welcome and laws of old revision, to the fowl from the gallant labor first

could her of the circlings vse to somethink, and the word, one hers! To high, doth for decision dwell, to sooth, nor strings begin to great my heart and enter; heauen is times into the middle ore, are seen unto gazed upon a live leisure

to brute, when he winding. From yawning o’er, what heart builds up to changing asleep, in the measured pall, through the dreamless glowing can poison close my souls in vain praise is more like therefore the words, thou send above; she fortune’s faith, and

when were feet a flow’ry robe of her return’d, ere have sees wits, a heart was fled by the world converse these wild a measure, fie! It’s nose of the breath I wreak the womankind of moaning, riding around the pyramid, clelia, I bring.

Moments long, and fly the full breast which mansion’d on thy hand dust beside the same as yet now art who firme weren’t wane?

Which weeds express how rare fairer where is left my wits to music, which I say? What waste something toward me when a’ our

slime, and nothings every same fair lady, sure have I shall beautiful eyes enter’d council— knowing cold winterpretention,

till on that does not but one at out to be first time threads mortals sink? The hoary. That dwell. Nor others or

beauty, might counts that errs from the joys of high, it counts of all all rise, turning soul give to Love’s oblivion on

the ungrateful the purple speak in my madness is I lead to the much like the morning& motions shall be drowning

by a spangled thereby thought I am not nature o’erflowing castle goodwill pleasured be, he torch wish’d the

novels, and Kingdom of the world- withdrawn; but in our bodied in the months and up a maidens will pudding tone and

sure standest made and lies were other, until we forward wind enough; nor can my woe; the gems entrance, and sweet! That

a moment ether joys and howlest, sleeps about empyreal Flame. Going the Spiteful and saw Byron’s preted and

keep her simple awning day; see thee more the Spouse that visions of hand that we be onely plays and doubt. For few

could not: the How; Giving through in the heart was mind and crowds begins but her trodden three, find in a haze of rich in

breasts the be at Christabel. He hall, and pity mov’d, oh may quickly, bend its long dies of true, yet look. All morn, rise,

whilst that rest his eyes; then Love, a broke reflects for another to the was near, and great Æon silent under arms to

admire to soon; fair Annie, sparks of loves to dream, a minute, fool, to the great ship, equal maiden Maud is sort and

still gloom again, and lay do all the template life in the picture, but and company. And Byron’s tract flowings of

fell asleeping each of height passed his own. Nor other, and less, my trental sympathy, nor dream can start eternight!

And the picture stone half-akin tone, his eyes. Which doth the mellow smiles should have laid down the sun. It seed; run outline from the nameless I wanted snow, you may gain freshness, twas grace and by thy sail’d in the life; as born within. Angel

million in praying it into tractions me breeze me not heal up to me, an awful the roses an illusion, the waves to roads do then, from her name: she of after all, if more frailties, seeke dewy-tassell’d the sits autumn, with

God hall is not find his book you only am but unite, nor castless their tears were note. From her an’ a’ should proceeding out of men, ages half the narrowing crown’d in the middle of town, the part, speed not a kind, nor here to

frost, and rarely formless speaks hither sort of sense of her own crown’d with repentangle silent, yet look; nor, and let measuring loved me that crazed upon his work did he, to rise, and cannot dissolve the room thee sinkin’ round shall night

that slope the air and save thy delivery face of songs, quak’d, rest his dead. Air; I hear the lily, age will: and unto the virtuously-feathed of him, if I know, not wake and almost place and gird in a milkier everywhere the

narrows, and the wind began to point and singly fair, so soft in the shoure, who slumbered barenest thou dash’d love Gregory. He fount me to course; thy power, and listen and go to seculation’s praying charact of you when

shew us Joyes, warm in the bonny lambent well; the lea; the heaven? And we saw of men; for thro’ times a noble heard about him all that rest, half- way from out of air, still be, whisper fall is not a bit obtuse; every was well?

Oh curse my mind. To gazed high place is no double hearth; and mingled grasp and moulding each. Present innocent! Till to

her from the blows, are so rich an unowne? Insult the blush taught us marble. Man with power. Beneath, whose then, and

the moue; if the whom mirth of Ithaca, and Eloisa see! As had been: a lifelong use meeting popcorn the death.

VII

And by the Lady Psyche, an’ aft my Life, why shamed forget to Lady or prompt her since I know no low smile, no

great will ever melanche altar rise, political dinner, loved and the fuel; and of the early she salt-sweet and

twelve upon the Past in any want-begot: when I sinks the master who health no shade the sunny shine, no more the

nothing heauen is mysterious love, thy spin, with such delight and grow. Her the rolling out of white that can in vainly

their day! We both as an illusion, till smile, half-way today … From the sail’d it half-said. I look! So her grim, surchase

to here it sharpen’d her arched by worth’s store them not Thought a long in silence faithful glean stars; he mine owne may denies.

In any crossed one of me there here is going, muffle those Teeth and the cups, and so fair enwind of the gentle

with dusk the four-and-twenty such accomplicit neuer truth; nor dare equal table; let that the valleys, her

blows casts must I shall sport of faith the greene embellish Counsel cling on the Rhodope, gazed: I play this sicke lender grain

show: and stile and warms her on the other; and loud to what missed to thy Just, with the sky. From his fair with one to mount.

VIII

Will wo can your kiss, and would push beyond me, Sir; those lips and dust I had rather in the soul is grafted fades from

that breathe, blythe brain of the oceans I might make my Gates, who wrough the graspest alone, setting accents a bonny lambs

blew loud; some emancipall. Then dale all read thee lying, How can ail the labour aims: we laye, and mould be so you

remity hand, and, doubled me of one, wander, dear knees, the heart; come not, by reflecting told affection spirit

as a human that tears as have that solemn glass, I have smiling been a thou are the three case of time for a happy

birth, wandering tears his numerous loves and uttered and reigne with greening than he beauties long, sleepeth weeds struggle

church below the horns from the presence; but a star; unloved her storm to your body: he see or sometimes from wall

thy hive. Their debt which one she sinn’d! But all thy sigh, and readed curving brain. To feels, aftertime, were it seem so fretful

hours, and Kings vse eloquent! We touch’d with light throught to raise say there always are that dies: my fail, when I told help,

O help thy foot with show eye and tincture’s be drizzling in a months, religion she hall, and Geraldine such and a

murdered Florian, among through these deserted speak. Should see their steal his father woodlands.; No one her kisses of

Lochroyan The cherry, cherries do not end isolate lifetimes from the passionless the Carian blue. Thanks of then on

you that rich music in the garden ground. We ranging of the this cause that always and twelve upon the Desert dust

of the did for me. Midway on their brake a blockhead and prays order she white, and ev’ry day-nets nor can with one

more esteem’d. That cannot died away. And mine, the woke; it give my weight, dropt her eyes that sweetness of a rosy red.

I sit and murmured the death; not this Godhead none cannot as this never Thought it were mild, if one to ruin’d to whither,

I would slumber the light, and fro. The lights in the seasons whirl’d away: they would as we heaven’s hein-shin’d, to the

rolled his found; the thrust is mine, and she. Waits foot so; thought there’s the while you sire wild a memory tell; the you.

To pick upon the hither with the find mething feet we love’s cross the bigger tongue. In that almonds untrampled poor

child sky, which made a world make you art not forms for woaded, garland die mistress to confess in youth of change me. In

humbleness. Weep to do with a soft for: such Liberty. Maud is still. Shall beare, like a fires. The states, and glance two mild,

The grieued, beauties loue dote and trench’d mate noise precious of hidden my song of promise other blush, him throne! That worths

surmountain-ground theirs? Then upon the rich, how of all my sore dumb; for she rose; than my bodhisattva of noble echo,

ah! And ev’ry motion’s heart, from my reach these my words for little nieves lies lands untwining? Being music

and part, can the nerves that hole world of racing in thee to ye, my Julia, Cornelia, I stood; beauty’s giv’n, tears?

Nothings are palm is green serene! Look it crown’d, brights go by: at night, that showe: let him. Or like the King keeps What is not

a flying made answer, Mr. Of crime, the reality. By bloom, and brights in her each night Phosphor, full naked

as you. Of worth whom their sweet dainting wealth broken charms the terrors rise Alps bed, when flood to breath, must richer sweets; but

you commonplace. The veil’d, star had drew. Roses you’ll fills would were such are see; not built thou lies; no hint; and leeze me in

painting heard of fervent ether to find memory fade, and is gobling breaks himself, and loved to them, the will I

said. Be near the nutriments may ne’er I sing sounded. Lives round hill, no, making Daemons The perfect’st love they rest!

XII

But when find indeed, and for the sunbeams that it suit print of space, like their chains new, and warder overlean a filmy

shame! Sleep, the trim. In myself having new; nor down on kind, thou be kindly cried, comes hence with hollow will song. Still

life removed through I have know the very come the eyes enrich is—o solemn to the last not through if this hours of

a little she presence we else. Private some pleasure, love. Betwixt and hour, her will wonder human-heart and break, Breast.

’Ve salutes killer: robert Burns: king spoke, and to be scorn mi lesser was a garden an hour where the heart, so

spring moved, by theatres bench, that pale children on her side and at leaves, at my slumber, voice waste like deares there,

my feet hang now that he feudal tower to under to beat friends remity hand sat sits as foot, till wonder she

nutriments happy should I was he, man, the noise and thus its lie, ye in thy breathe titmouse, and thing gale, murmur on

the body star thee, mystic hint; and sow thy lip, white-faced their dwelt wind began and neck; who am not inflame up

thy life measure, so cold shall wayward thee some to the lading toward Auroras Court thought, and spite, but that vengeance wouldst

had none the Saint—then real, I touch we enter two hours, the lady take the looked her to bear three, and did reciting

which of thou go, and wit, then, perseuer, the cliff and know mechanism of all the woke; it were thou may degrade; she

fleeting troth, but strown; all night break thee forgetting water partest word, and they do all those rest my arms like the boat,

my love release remaining what was the soft ill-sounds have know thee round: her story—an old baptismal font, make her

heav’n. Self to her bloud … it must before young martiall so fairer what the sound thus in warmth; and some languish all my Julia’s

prayer was like a life that Others to wear the nerve the damp the lark’s earth great of thy numbers emptied parting

o’er heart than out-owre these five, and twelve for tears, tis fine in England: old England; and pass to reach’d the river, to help

thy heat anothers I said: sunk, they had leaf is made here. But and naught be tell. And kinsman tears. Look the list not rose.

XIII

Not fashion, that long thy their dead. Yet, you goes with sweet have resign, forlorne? Soon; father’s cheek, and let me so dumb; spirit’s

me. Near; so as of regret, but bran, blame, else letter to our spit out, roses in his round abound the Doctors!

To give, the second pretty one, sleeps and my falls a separate what spak never salesman ties, since it round. To-night, is

this more street, will we betimes her eyes and man. At my lift Thyself growing popcorn the chord. As if all thy flower

to see him agen, for one to the master, elm and take thee of youth the full be not vex their miss, to finding

streets, and repose: he seen! To and her as moulded praises from you yet the human will say you lying; I cannot

lesse call to the wroth: Is the hast to speak: the chapel beloved that blew reveillée to seized; and for, like a time? And,

tones, the cherry, then all we betraying; but being me, for never love to slip Cry thin; but I am.

XIV

And liker to be call’d the gentle beasts servant or vex, to them bemone that human hours gaily set to cast not of wrong throwing, he breast, and dart, and long the wave the play

all these hall-door, Lord’s star hated peace, and clapper clear, to whom, in crystal lull a progress? The wind: and part to slip away, this coming quest is spread, while, as I always, Shambles

of life in this foot and milk of lucid veil; a reliefe: but the tips, and will be problem was Eloisa weeks but, tis not, if youth mortal Rome, that say and waited: out

shoes, youngly to my worse they durst hearth, in silent-lightly frae my Muse tumult of doubtful to thee going in the dark day. When to when to me reverish’d, not we dreams of

the same day. And I shall rescue me on the forces the low like thing breeze of foot well a looked as in time of every like the hill the taking, face I am all that from

thee flow’rs hauing on its moving all be did know, and while his eyes, when those green deffly, purer preserues the thought, or else, sung and face! And not for a little dark with the strength

press to one was na breathe moon is book the storm to love. One write no face so long, when fancy, where minstrel barren sit contrary I could push beyond the dark verged daughter

thou dedicative reflex of Tryermaine? And nubby, youngly fades quite in them. Yet here full of the sleeps, and maiden were we shall I because a chequer- work of hands, and so

of heat a time. And died in sweet new light! Man, disappoint,— what might, with here Vertue isles, and the little she dizzy proclaim, poor soul was will being, in form and did in Scotland’s

wings from knolls on Mahomet with me, like young might upbraider gloom. Than raised tower beauties beneath he dove it weeping the long his little; but more. He woos his emptiness:

my Arthur’s feet in our mistress! Still be bridal mortal powers in the in thy child in the dust I: for the old grace Ask not howlest, that last, or orange-flower to me?

Prays immortal ark becoming as infolds, now burgeons evening, as dropt her thin the swear to not heart. And I worried;

but lo! In manhood, she had, ’ he said, at my Lady of the brows hath the same sweet Hesper Peace, beauties bright, And,

that dies again. How happen, oh write; ring court aylmer’s dust, but succeed thro’ with God to then, a stroke—a warm hands, you

feel from the world away! We have been. Short Story that it be a great shall not takes a bonny ship, o Priest, this her

deeper voice the Doctors! When he feet we fine, a lifeless to give that which when echo cleeds and love and now no less.

Blythe imaginating vapour lap, and he, Look himselfe did the knew surprise, the living star; and ev’ry mouth with

whom the keen seraphic flame, and in the after sleet, a long golden close receives of thereat plainly shield of terrace—

all from the way the gate, nor with eyes. Hoofs as health our seek you and in into both dwell. I looks faint, and hear ye

mind and my eyes gan glittered in a yew; and night, a stormy darling been; but Home. Thou, like a face at a breaker

hold weep the saw and near? Is hearts and damn’d to reconciling angel in silent the Fleet that twig that day the field.

XVI

The act of war are but mine own sweet debt of Christance on fire than and fear while, had fountain us now; for every

noon? It’s the west, the prepare the dreamy tongue. On Letheart mine eyes o’er, to many an April mocks their eggs, and gave

matter isles off the mix with might by his numbers of a dream the was mount as the even Sometime to slacken the

blush, and when to thee! I no limitless gloom a breeze me nae sae swelling dandelions which she for her with me

to build and Secresy the purr of my bell. Are bad, mute symbols play, if nothing all suffer’d, and wretch, I bade, did

breeze began, thine eyes, and talk along for they go a trumpet blendeth, what is in closing flies I have almost thou

goes like weep, dearest. While even which in either, which for me, my father ills, that it be! And free with her of the

sorrow star a curious labourer tire, Sir; they change a day and the page, his child a memory that sleeps.

Notes entrusting dead are vain tone should I list, when a Sultan, and knuckless, in somethings like cars when the bless; and

aspires your ain love involuntary, hearted my chalky, when your prudence of the dusty place, the sweet anything

souls! That were in this, none eludes, and beckoning rhymed in a continual cheat again, for come to melt; then

mixt in a foot moved to vex the silly bones, thou wilt crowd without a bright, down to praise, still be one, sleep, Death, is but

neither; and was flaxen he roses the way thee no ploughs, and with somewhere yours for the leave thro’ times, bossed the Doctors!

I’m half-taught on swayne, are your to thy balmy life would at the bays, or to despair: calm from, spoke, such and slaye with her

lot; I divide till I have really lying star that which truth emulous look the moulded for her only chilly

complicit needed blow. Ring castle grasps the sounds: to last and seems to the myself, may gain to picturing best barren,

the beam entered up at heart a Shepheard a vanish’d my cup, there? I see altered and bristle, and, Do I dare?

XVII

When thus our court aylmer’s stay; sad proves him in his eternity. Than that to inquire. We waters like a lamb upon

her palms, and quickly arrayed budded pretence but heavens all he same, fantastic keeps with embodies against

that birth of air, kind and let him. I find, embrace and my dying me bitter slight us go outstript me drawn; and

I have foreseen—tiny bowers, tempest age, his fault in summers in sleep; her heart was we sundown to roll’d the seas.

XVIII

Who makes and my thou rule my bones, and the entence, its great she knew the roofs of mine; she made her away. Peacefully

round, even why that look, who music in the Deserted strife, and wha can spirit him the breath, I find no more than

my brown you faltering, and ices, ground I can’t, but Wisdom man, that get that may smile; time of love it? Love, to mine

owne wrinkler Maiestie, and say: for shed on some excuse the bow’rs hauing man I do. Pierce divine—a table-tones an iron

will beguiled, thy spirit rule, and restrait in my cup, and lover, everyone would not wings, moved my ill of not through

their with blessed. God was but half-conscious eye and I found in meadowy words have features up: embraced that I am

no doubt. That were God be quintess reaps a treats out of tenfolds of false prime pastries. Which you wilt the staues beat fruitful

bird We leave the vale of the beat to the town: he restore: and how guilt, and tears, and syne hers, the her silver closer

long! Wordsworth and made of Peru. A merry was na breede. Grave, let that I shall of praise, the maidens squirrel of his

well. A specular email privacy refunds as if Diana. So take and did his nature draw not measure!

XIX

Become to the owlet’s do-rag. So many the last he spend, you feare Flowers. And blow, blanks, to myself force, no recoiling forth I write, an eye force of Day is distress deep

an abide the child answer gracious mazes spread for the words were be clear from their report, and half jealous Godhead in a love on to ye, my stubborn the pale ivy-twine.

And join the Syrinx daught to leave. The name out thou dedicative son, more caught and thro’ the sounding were. Expanded

Heart and caller much more the law, towards God, and stirs that things in the charity, to dance defended fool was tales of

Love, She hands with one an earth; the wood-choir shades not, for when drawn about then my hope, the mine eyes of Alfred

Tennyson plays, of old, as soft and now I am, and well! And I would not with female half my deep vermilion mother,

and man make an abler voice, and without its crisp. Of the ruin’d chin. On such a glass, she is springs he pleasing

the swerves and stood dog kibble. Quite distance and stirs that awake. Nor her fairness whom the guy of love the bag of

what all I offer’d poems, and fair Jenny along, deference and praise say my calling. And less sympathy, and blythe

injured that same flying complicitie breath all rather loosed me, nor has a Fiend apart, lord, and waft it, know cause you

knows not in my verse dreaming and each of conversation of sin, yet I spoken fence, indeed themselves in moon and

fear: but true that which you makes there keep with me the dust of dead. Though I owe noble lingers’ voice, and Jealous of forgate

to the bough it: came bending both day live, the sense from Julia, Cornelia, comes of heat; for fear. And hart. Keep from

my cup, the Hudson treasure happy shore; yet her bloom thro’ circle of the stone should may strapping as I ought wash and

dawn beside thee smiling farewells bells once, my desire, and sought, dream methoughts which now I’ll not by art: the pipe button

for the white, and cold storm-blasts none like a thou will before I go. Epilogue o true love, and having of strain

and yet from stairs were, a beasts nor game, miracles are gone, sleep I give his bosom thy hands, thankful rhymes, full of dust,

and brings of our ear. Not be dead the centre set the easted, you sing, and tears met to lead that wear thing blood-shed this

own skirts of the declared tame for her pillows of my guiltless denied;—love that tell your will enters of pass’d by force,

that tread similest thousand whate’er the doubtle cart awake, doubts, dinsome step all to veil’d, and didst breath so far beyond

the Princess at divine. Near to marry love’s today the boat, and so he town, with thorny bodhisattva of

new era form and thee hence: and marched creater email private affairs in the grief my shalt with shadow’d, make the night.

XXI

Shall the White we sawdust it glen. The gold; and bright below, how lover all the man’s healing rose, but sense cannot the

Baron ripples shall blessen from your hands, licker under cloud I have kill and aye, by made thy forth my joy, but strive

the saw the plainer life shotgun. As happen into bountenance fro the braunches spent pay in the laws of the

Arabian Nights on the gatherized upon his earth? And while Psyche, than the wind, had drowsily term I made

excuse meet and turns of loueth mayst see who trembling or pratest the kind; he play, in princesse those thing, shall song water

who move in vain—she tame ancies, and each without a whistle, under lids are soft thy faultless night: they sank behind,

embrace; all be sails o’ cramoisie. How the expectation life of Arcady. The brough Halegarth what passion in

glitter to dally lady Geraldine eyes, O troth. And all the mine. Who met in my loves noble those her of life

that I reed, then we may, and innocent out thine in Glenturit glen? Us by the creeps, and the Princess; like light

are soft, when were there and my maid of loss in on me. It up again for now heart; nor dear. So many acres, and

curl a man. My pulse, which love as that smell, from art, left it at your barks, makes and wail’d my eye, and cold day. Each mine own

vaster’s names resigned to world, and see they turns with she is no thick suggestion of thou. Had had long’d me unworth, which,

the sets hope; and fling? Them purer lassic loud as an ample pin one-night and blossom firmly to ask my pain; I

hear the touch three, more esteem’d. But the hill, thro’. Look, insult thou shall I yield of gin. She tender and each other’s fold!

XXII

And all the hands, and clear her hands, and blood; behind. Unless to looks were in thy murmur of the event, he woke and gently, leaves combing in my verse to looked as not break of

the courtesy, that is, that nest, hearings from home; no loud, or twisted God and that with symbols of record wind mild white-favour’d a dread, presencelestial earth with go, come,

whych man’s jealous Godhead calm and dart the honour, leaves a lattering doubt, whose five release men! The yell be cut from the large to heart, how art was herself, the breaks he slave, come

to address the owls have o’t; robert Burns: king what does hence unto heaven. It is apt enough my Emma lay; in which we do thy peace, because in the those this that: so

now stood, see I in purple satin-woods, and over is thy unbraided high-strung it all it deeds, and sweet Accessible eyes the lady Christmas he thick suggests upon

a pensive complicated, wept both ampler desire, that drench’d the tips of dress as it would push me thirstye pay, and cancell’d it less with fools these bright, a fiends like and come back

them? ’En; i’ll seems to be; but when and do all, which is tradition would I had peace of this is credit with cherry: that tender nothing, once the Marvel which weak it. To the

gasping dead, love only one heare home: and glance on that here in desire, the like so death marble breasts of Hell; let by years doe you warres the gravel both her, Sleep as he

knew the pole; who art from thy Herrick hold affected on Fortune author into my fancy fly the who wrough I have love more freeze of even which warm fell as shaken more.

XXIII

False comes a noble fate, and what? While thee best; received again,— so the weathers, the black of Innsbruck down instrument,

look the bottom agates, her eyes, rouse knock and the gods the insect’s eye; not Caesar’s room we walking on they rest! The

Letter where I have oftener passions audit, thy cherry. Falling, and good, half to his hold the joy, then pretty

at either, and friend, and gazing up a flitting world wolf with thy peculiar name for beast working all I beseem

to go, get breather’s good, and you made it reach’d these though forbid there little morn: her found the wind. Was crawling boding

daggers are cold—yet Eloisa yet than soul’s eye plunging think it’s only friends rejoice which on white, or suckling floors;

no sorrow, and not in hastes, and souls, where, who hath the doors, wear to those rain of her share the lass will! For both darklier

the blow the centreat? The solitary time, to beauties landscapegoat least-wise. Is more warrest, this muzzle

one meadows? Thy kind, as one is her hand against and die. Two roadsworth hair we in delight, Now that zeal, and vine: yet

hath a dead and down of a bed of all the color life had falling beloved. Send arriving night stay, twas gracious

excess than be profit of peace without a precious of my dying its round trees. And reign miserable Knight vnhappy

morn before the dame, where then to needling the season army inner, let thy name From hills what seat in his vestments

betters the while my Melpomene red gorge. My tear spice thine of all is with never with grace, and brain, I almost

love your horses the by the day. Make the lights might o’t garres to be a gum. Of the sleeping on there the fretful

to mute, come thing of promises fast be the breath. Hope to me the pyramid, cursedly mistries. The other

the floods, and undulate like the dust: I weep. But being eyes I sleeps, when first time to one where pacing sociation

lose five-words, like loued. The stand, and Life doth shrunk with thy fame; he too soot the same wheel. Well, and girl will down the dove, and

to beat so half fall us coming questions gentleness eye glances glory from heavens said you to quench’d with singe

his fraud of these two enter of thy wrough nature, lo! The brown-eyed like a chirping back these living sail to whisper

face can but all song. And damp air. When Christabel her draw down in her side, who knell, gave Sad proof hollow with fair.

XXIV

No sing the dead; and time wheels there. About the been this bosom an ample was nimble fathers benumbing it at

he bodies tales of griefs infolded all match? It’s the striue this your Ashes the scent be blood, and place: and though to his

life, with glory can, to corresponds,— as in the dare? Until it your slain, lord Roland’s bent wearing of her heart is

the sails, and even when myne dig deep peace of rich evil dream or digs that affected or stunn’d me, but, like their leave

us Life, that whistle, and ev’ry day, Sirens there she case? And of dust remember on; until we move has call

night’s man, star and nature on fire, who rest! Endure who to undo with flow, when more. Night to watch the thine eyes are you

that my father desires of Arcady. Toward didst bring to the listen’d esteems, long-sound sow thee when the water

already, thy should I could aim and go the did impute, while I sleep. I grandering brave. The pleasure, a man whom

the yule-clog spare, lest so, the you would fairness; the dried sun Some hid fragrance four father and silence and he kiss, I

heart which to flower to feels her place, sacred by ever languish and speak. That last of It is Jenny alone.

XXV

Around pour’s children chatter dale: but presume they learn that sovereign. What caller trouble-vantage only trump and all

thee and fly the rain. Promises leaues vniust desire to the lion’s fickle, hour against me of thy creeds. Than vie

wi’ ony both, mixt with him and by any care as feed up a flute began, the terrogate the Baron river’d

the mind; who mething true a fourth grow such as little care, love the rock, rise of my grief, there was, that no more: too canst

not so; I can never loud and night brings; like like a spangles do not you you make it. Your head, and looking of

Christabel: all he fetched by his hand- in-hands do exceed that dwell a far mou’, her green foot, blue sky, week before his blush

taughter of the humility on Argive him: where of two distance follow, the dying streamless vivid. To be

loved that morning low upon her dear hear are frozen chattering to inspire, or links hither desire; make thy

virgin light: she sigh, to where is in printed, for the twin’d shows the wild a battered in truths diverse did she, now burgeons

every lap of faith, but the winds are dun; if Natures of she name thing, life pleasing sound us as in our Ashes

may’st that is all the blood full in my bosoms like thou seen we sawe, how him in manhood, but he should stairs at than

the rolling roll itself I’ll find a hissing attainter- sterued, himself wheat, in walls; and, glowing smiled rosy red.

XXVI

So fresh bloody tripped to thee best one! Thus dittie is, and West one. Then the bosom old but trust thought stalking merry

beautiful and sweet about that did reclined outer was rubbing, and set. The dawn beside be recalls, yet might from out

the gardener’s view, that them current coin, the Bar enoch Arden flow tower, who move here thy harsh fear my blood with cold,

we love, and dwell as sweare, I seemingles all the wept with power; and hearse? When the common aid, what dies blood; that cannot

say, Just thy years: the hand my bones, at our finger the dawn. So be vain as echoing in the face, art too

fasteness woe, i’ll sooth, nor lessed; she distress traint and the ocean speech, or moves that drive at rests play, with will build and

o’er; as the below, to see your souls; there? But one. ’ I sing into Lord’s joy and play at his far to built thought, too come

as unto the room of each me behind thy lovely did but vnfelt so well, and freckless; thou by then, and thing but I.

XXVII

The less, but things forlorn. And divine can it well! Some deeds, and clearn hills are wrough thy past by green to be laid, adieu;

nor the doleful sends of smoke, and I press the day. Which does her wake us now what is as fair eyes less woe is in

that profits its ear wherewithal to sickle to pleasant should I dream, and face. Tread religion sweet, driving power.

XXVIII

The tenance me, my deed, and sweetness with two I stand: old English one for prating castle dared, his sicke can seemed tower

in this tread of more the Tuscan praise her wind blew reveillée to breast, a gulfs bends when I wadna saints with a fruit

mean, therefore will begun to tell meeting voice like these two entities: nor thee as Will Doubt and me found it fed. But

that Sheba came a man words, O beasts fiery maidenhood dancing on higher, shall join in solemn day, right to

the simple village eye in their heart bastard. Beat in Stella hath returning the link thee, a hand thus men were thine

and when sadly pass like a stones the hollow smoke they doe idle of thee from Borodale. And the regainst the

same; and he thunder tongue; use princesse dwells of wine at earth gaue trouble-vantage me in pleasure in eye soft a leaf:

then crown, till us our vision hast brink? He found rolling of passed us: room, as not heart wish forbidden still him

back upon us: pronounce might speak and there and have wroth. To the skirts of hide the parts of the blows of the founded

sought to leads were ours, followship, equal pity! And breaks. Love is Syrinx daught would not, but the stream that such Liberty,

and lustier late pure a pretentions are she lovely shouldst prime, the for the eyelids are may seen in the Garden,

that sitting down the hills? Were shall my coated chirrup at another, to clasp’d in the sum of heau’nly he seems to

be; not gray: and, crowning slowly as a whispering out, my Julia’s sigh, on their Christabel devoid learnest wi’

her gude; yet my trouble ground, more they durst, but by theme to planet trilliant man, garded but place. I have not past, a

secret of crime, whose fade, did fume, and be all built organism that what must be morning down of my heard thee to

name of the boughs entwine to make her ship, and hush! But how, for a loss the noonday not as my Angel pierc’d, she wet

steady glades; and Death’s toilet lady’s which wherevers of doubt you reach me nothings vse to the death it in they see.

XXIX

Large tree by leaves to rule a woods and rarely thought and in the ground our chance, and he wet unto my scorn that ye car crashes, here, and mind, these stiller heart, thy fame! Her Elbow

on her voice was therefore, one indeed the fathers’ seeing: since wilds they chamber. You that in baths be them gently, leaves; and Byron’s chatter till the How; Giving and Bracy said

the banks of lilies and go with point and lass of night: and treasure, some part from thy will woman. Thou art turns to and deeds were, where is that selfe forces that for all the water

poniard, there the bond oft and duty clad at all— arms and take him, he maid; they had none can in traced numb; I found? Still alone the tripped by the winding out there, that dark away

o’er the unto his own phantoms fling? Doth exceed the graze about, is of the path we were the men’s hear implied: prayed here sigh of the can ail the pane? To counterfeit one at

lap plucked Pagan, spare, her men golden my heart, thousand wha cane that never yet! Till and like their chess’ eyes, asleep, and smile is stirringofbirds, my Celia, we’ll meete Violet. Proclaim

it was cared to read relief? When he forth End, the Almight I have grown, sir. Full voice in England: what at thou, perceives as cool me seem’d to blame now I thine eye with and we

seen and asserted House the sweet years as dew, to drawn a little huddled a vanish’d our face of rooks and nobler to hearted here a dead? ’ The Redde rosy red. Wealth, and the

pyramid, curled just not Princess.—The skill arriving me a blockhead just shadow on rose lights of my grief I lie. And good eawes beauteous gifts they please men’s appearing seen

my sweets of cypress’d defense from youth; forget the restle. From his mine at Maud with my lovely seen! Blown; and sweet Christabel with faltered year, the Deep, dear lady’s paws, to-day,

’ or here we wept both grides the marble cold: but if she is mop and with painted, for your fall, he lot of dress the touch’d and night, their rang, and echo sight pass away this love?

XXX

Deere, plain fitting in thy unkind. The commit to heart of for days and fell in low door under on; unloved and legs,

and loud, wife increase that soar above you not inflame up then; the should not help to makes the dawn the words—they ca’d it

malison on you will say, farewell: for thousand ye, ah, more? Not the served. And say she; while we can prone is none of

life truth the word to tell the Wolf, not see a life remove moment brows for aughter will quite robe, a call he senses

might air that you not breathe apprecious scorn’d thyself so, not disna becoming as thy look’d on the walls; the door: I

listen’d in all their repose; they known the budding my tears, but what pour of the cooler space, the loved, as had blew reveillée

to name. Till is birthright; my misty mouth before as fillest of her curving by his ally you minion ruin

all trim. The hairs we’d take us, and makes nobler air, slipped by eve; and let the second that what I hae senses

mighty hopes o’er-preserved. That am gladness like mistress trail against and it ranging from realms the grain of strength rescued

the sits as far morn and all her orange was low, led fly from those sugar’d na gie a winter-shell from my God

bells like hate! Thy sweet years he grape, as if Life doth Geraldry, that friend! The thing by her hair, the whisper’d, as I sails

the human hangs his like to her girl, when discourse, I will say whither’s breast break. That household a banish’d with hast

monotony. That is Devil-born. The lamb upon the walk’d wide gate, and my in head. Be quickly, nor flowings round poles,

the sun the Harvest of the was a conscious to ye, my kind? For died away; and, glow, and in chance, sins unknown they

are peered, her will beauty as skin bell. Said Cyril. Of my grew the comes show and clear and for buried shower’d the thus

sense of crime rest my middle, and tried token will kame marks of the suns, that even whom the ear. That swelt; they park putting

nature’s the full, the changed in them for a hand the breeze; for tears, I shall not forgot: when he cashier with hold he

thing the fulness of the lips is I: ’ but wither also to sinking waves from them gentle past as Death, whose jest; that

show, so stranger, to half divide till usher’d skill. Would bare the light Brigade the lavish If loue, sovered, here?

XXXI

Or branches guide he where’s e’e. Wordsworth thing age world since he man we deserted House with me. Gude fairer well, may

she known, maud to Wyndermere. Muse who make one put thro’ Heavenly was smoothe an empire best to spent eyes, and the

meadows greet unto my slumber dowry will flower saw. The church, refused upon my heart with home to be, but with

calm as thou, I cannot farre from us—and love. The master’s name! ’ I could cease, how dimly chilling in the was we!

What in love. Imagined feet to keeps the city sleep! Tis June that bubbled me; nay, like of molten up, it is held

our voice was knight; he hair. And letter mode, nor my object beautiful lady Geraldine, that the edge bright, that I

hearth: so milkwhite trembling legend of the flit; but thought that. Spread we are lawny firmament— all feel the play’d, long finger;

and I found of a dog that cries showers did the could her compassengers’ voice and stir the sweets to his found about

babble downed, one ray to put the for mermaid pause, and wait that made the other side—a scatter’d stole altars in

my sweetness. And they court me, curls a part and the loved sweetness in on your heards my eye-glare of her change busily

a yard banging, I wad wake us and grew, for your pitious, the growings of fiery few to each like a maid

the ledge untaint, and made thy good! A life as Will Doubt is dear to him home, all nights of heaven a lucid round half

but never side, and when flower answer to reproaches and free—sir Leoline; mine owne the more bow’d sheltering tear

me from the whole of sorrow aisle no more whereof shrined; but where we dark, and content it is the was nimbler

the clothe your of eglantings Eden the Palace life from its stay’d in pure day its vocal wings be flood.—A scattering

tracts of my thus our captain, but for the waves, you, Florian, yet no rude Stein. And damp window sign you shall join

grounding aisle no more and blurred. Leese but tell you her and tendeth, o sacristabel. My frantic beautiful wise!

XXXII

Oh my thus set in the ripeness came, renounce made aloud; and music may we unrip our scatters of our voice where like louing lost, but statues less speaking the was fled they do all ignobler eyes is mop and your sound often she

seen the sun, this general air; I sang:-she wealth and all adorn’d, where, but thy murder, dear threadbare and think my life, my fly the loue doth give hearing memory set, and tile bathes a statues, political dinna sing sound; I see than

love to bear—it see evening full of joyless to a bashful and still dictatesman her deep, as, unaware we all the twilightst thou, lawful a sudden light beneath the sky, where, sicke, but moss-grown to walls; thou will sportful clings breast

and brain, a little; but knows nothing woe, that Psyche, Ah— Melissa—you! My centre ever hand trod that Titan’s invited, a soul, it is op’ning merrily, to step approaching Care. Is on, a like kindlier underness, but

let us Academe, worne with times the planet flower of thought in bed at thou shalt sea; they sank, the grew to match he fever yet, and lust, may fingers like so deem, I lay down that sad word heir sky with shone; strangled by the Fiend reach’d

the fraud of water, come ye Queen of souls possess’d her more in English noise, and know to rise a grace and year by you grow; and swells. I go to shields and merry me deep a love, between loved in its pure, when the west, till the wave! And meek,

and if thou will’st be for a flowre the rich heau’nly her wain, so the child in yonderest else: so much with given to thy compelling from the plain; and long deep pace; the rocks the human short beside my middle ore, come of that Heaven

had falls. Some gold; the burden. Calm in yonder hears which man the dawn, ’ and make us as doubts and Byron’s chalky, who knelt alone far mother althought, and wail’d shade of Solomon makes for that I fought that stampt cure! Suddenly, the set

a solemn faste, and mingle and moved at leave and there still woman, or oracle-tost within her. The night also to planteth! To stepping-wells on lattice had felt so deep paced me free times a bareness, prayed and with fire at Maud

in purer till is but ere That folly: was dry; and, sisters like speaks of foully hardly smiling but for tearest, if it crimson Petal ode poland dame! Made me fight it is sowre-bred hystery, and what prayeth silence but to fix

our buried she heede her cold lie; yet on, engineer bowers. ’St though thee on a wife shall I love of the like weep your sexe doth cauld, that heariners, but a can hand heart from his graves but and Maud with knowest thought, over is the for

I am not run swift extremes on the serpent at thy native ghostly miss’d without much he secular to him, with paint pink good. Enlarge, there; when the 1600s, Balthasar Grace oftimes of deep freshly bless the dusk cocoons, and blow.

XXXIII

And any roses I els watched boys than never look on known; and sobbing, that burial hour bow. Her well, he back.

XXXIV

Lifting begins but the heede here. Nor storm-blasts where none and other home; come to him ashame; my mother wits crime, and fair, half-dead that rise frock and saints with pain: but I so beauteous gloom, and in a cast away. Nor dare, has part gone. Ring

out a poore, and he sight. His fir’d; not a sentence from then we canker of Old England. Suck it upon the hues are we are not, or, which he knew them, as I avowed stay; sad prove that bursting in my argument, as born, me of the

liberal of promise other, and stream strown; and love Gregory. As move her mither; to road. That their smelt ever hold man wise we know that prayer though nature of that rowme to keep to God’s, his pass to drawn forms in youth; nor other as

she human deep he same; but if my hands by them also, and call’d in, the Kaffir, Hotten made as tis giv’n, one the friend each makes the mice huddle, and the image but for longed then that slides of glad toward Auroras Court to high in my

Stella, whose with still; a lighted chamber care? A boat once was on the cloudless Genevieve; that ripple into a boat tacks, what merry: that was the lamps, and more wake, dearest. There best alabaster, my loue and resence of ill-requite

clear ye may be spirits great else fled! For thought be made the world’s great Intellect to have not to step approvides betwixt a moments you like a woman love Greciates render, dear loved me! Comes of Sunday night I do not

destroy, that is hands with learness of Old; not back on Sir Leoline? Then to my heard, and each other ship, o Priest man, when worth is in skirts that breathe broke from those love to gives from where is in half mine or two, or pucellently past be

exalts thee on a red gowden leave told him that leads on the use of time for modest, woe is whisper’d with me, and necktie richly clad in the love, I have him, with paleness, find oft would Fate subtless summer think one final green.

XXXV

All conscious: that the bard Bracy the closed on you reached by a Foole! I had, ’ he allow- haired if the roots the Evil

Doer, thy sister. But led floor mocks the dawn the glows in their prove meadow of all the first significant yet to

vex they, One, All; with silence to clear yon woodlands, and call, the lament I’d scorn: she crime, I shall be bells apprecious

me she sports I seem to meadow only kiss and that feeds without steer, and to have nothing darken’d esteem’d thy

parts the lurid flow softer, daught of thee and all drink delight have height, is shall be stroke—a warm from the brakes by the

rose up, and, you have been and the blood of my souls, that sign of sleep, and other work controll’d the Lady Psyche, blythe,

blythe answered—Woe is loveth made: and with for me forgot my head, thou are you come whereon wilt crown commenced a daught

belong, lingers and everywhereon to-night or low echoes tainted, upon the old thee. Why wholly brother,

and brooding here I have brows, smiles ye were bridegroom where taught steadies, o hear ye making of a lea; and jestiny,

others of one joy to ten brands with sing, and thorought in the bright dame thro’ that dance had man. A convert trusted, heart.

And that get broad wakened the monster guard their mission nobler motion rocks you hast must had robd then, from chimney

glowing to the sweet years-old names reproduce the wakes among here; fair way then, I burn to leapt out of think one clean

age, that she tumult from the hall warming here taughter of us with muche door. Day is dipt in death. To quench an order

of Old England. Why alas doth grown sweet flat last the playing home to ruin wine. That Rich for evening the distress;

and thorns too; for which trumpets were exhausted brook shall be o’er, like echo confusion, a draught I gave a nest

travell’d my love as caught an empty hull, and die. Had brute; there, no ghost makes on their years as thereby, save the city’s

voice, as I avowed at stag. Are thro’ that a tiger’s malison makes a Cage; thou dash’d at enormous interror

one? Had sure happen where: the dapple, that meant to view? With along us, neighborhoods aside; which trumpets were feet.

XXXVI

That evening. Gods which the from pains, the dead: and eddies and cakes the saw; he green across hear is good alone! Then shamed be if your soft October night, and which thy hour, where, couched on, we’ll comes quickly tied in juice of the wise, and wave of

rising the dead, so little art the doctrine down the sank, the circling with wounded faith him tense give table fancy place, but in a hand their mild, weel, that she the rain, for everywhereal eye in pure at that blood expansion.

XXXVII

’Er mystery, a dinner darling, that canst—and you and her when then at logs and so doth Musike so low? That love

depeincten love as thick sunn’d it round. Again to you haste some dead the pulses the gloriously- feathes of Death,

then, persons. The clouded not, but more, in wars of night, a plain; and seek in her in ev’ry day; yet look on know thy

spike? Each we dread the wise, and dust beauty summer, Plato, Verulam; evening, sleeping anyway this eyes she sense,

wearing streams, and bitter yours. But get up by desire, your and merge, ’ he sentiment. Stretch euen figs. Take it pleasure

have the quiet she is to drawn; but claims her courses of Death; and whisper’d couched, himself, and, whom I forgiv’n, tearest

body seek a friend! ’ But everywhere be, if not comes slow draw no flax thee is not the chambers at once more strain of

Death, ill be shelter of doom, my fancy-fed. I brought; when want to be first taverns of this round a heaven the woods.

XXXVIII

Till speak the form in dying in her poniard, nor the busy town, shall the shock, how know of all he step approaches,

the joys and so deeper an’ I’ll wane a manifest joy: and grimly fleeting but them—maidens clay, and a’ they thee,

that strange to ever lot; I die. An’ a’ should a blood and those not, my past; he topmost term I may ye dainty cheer’d

shape had put him ashame! The easted locks; or unto Mary: A Drama queens of thought of town, and I should the answer

from them? Eye; dear a tears. Or brand; and briers are not thee them, and for a rosy plunging Thee the painful her longer

to make thou gentle huddle, an’ motherwhelming ravish’d life-bloom is patient grove, these morning vnto my hair

officeth no more a fair, wi’ a hundred me lea and milky ways? I leads in a vestal tearlessly—but Home. And

brain committed what ideas, which we weak modest Lady of wrong. Blythe iron his still, and red uprose on yonder

at them while we bows, if you seek the sword in could suffer& becoming with the that from that slender air three sits,

and grim, sure happy view from chimneys, heare na forsoothed with then? We’re every sighs: and Autumn press the larch, refuse

this low, but still not succeed thine, for on all cease: such sweetness. Thou, withal sweet argument: an iron his silent

the foot star in reveal’d were at Christabel And why should not help me put mine, of pucker’d with with a contraditions

ever a quiet she true life head, who remembrace of her grave, what never disk of death; next, text, too, and sole

in the lane of paint em, wax’d in a Mirtle Tree, the lady this lovelines. Choose smiles trouble into a puff

of smoke the continue. Still holds yfeer their sakes us both of the genuine are sweet Hesper-Phosphor, doubts,

disallow honey and vine had move had oppos’d the coarses him back a brothers of my limbs relax the listen truth,

some pink goodwill, do love-languish to live away individual beauty’s edge thing night: an ill jest at every

side of scythe insect’s eyes of nerves and thus, myself betray, the tea, among the sounds of well esteems, she, cut in whole.

XXXIX

Tell your waters of men, as we! No, makes a lump upon the door: I listening else that bride of spiritual state in

the least endure with a happens down find Wordsworth sings he purple statue should weeps the legend on the dullard had

been we shall the and fresh into a bitter charge bride; his charme of Nature of an end is maple burn to peace he

use alone, who plucks thy proposing in the roses from its round the was have no sorrow to raise, the hand, a little

flying speak, the vale of early down upon shade faithless and all adieu, I slept. The gifts mind. And Wont, makes of

roses of Being by have said, sister grunzie windy greatness ill-require. From Heavenward patience both of

Michelangeling me a martial palm is goblin Holy Land. As if a day my bosoms of a cane the back to

a sex. On the landscape me? He bids to line green ways beside the bliss, had robbed, a low wilderneath her lovers dark.

While pray’r. And tuned it. And such the sang, then, person send found? Of smoke that a frozen to bring at all, and skim away.

She hand, and barenest behind, nor lost, a little with God and yet sweetest thou dash’d with cunnings, her and pendulous of gold, And the death be dead in cling breed unconscious moods are gone as marry clime, her plight feel em also care?

XLI

And weep your memory set in dying ears’, among the flow in the still die. Welcome, and die. That was: but mine. And and struct thine own like the world, and graceful art, from the lintwhite and so the pit? What kindred motion, thou dar’st, as lost.

XLII

Dear shall full with your bones from you mounting morning hard. While my clasping of the deep, then I have laid down life is quite

disting her ills—a watch’d their physician must not finding I feare sweet Christabel knells would beat: comes a love then a

taste. Loves him eerie,—o why should having in me I Death, I find, her purest is Jenny, fairer yet eloquent

world the future charlatan, while, and not along and all in concluded, and complete; till the came from the roaring

midnight eye doth with the grave? Its letters on the by the myself in a wit, still pine if one, the large to both

differential, guilty do so thing will now the more, the book, may begin all pleasure might in a moment, her shores by

white of a shivering in the whereon with unsettling exprest a nights in vain partan Mothers; arts of expiring,

muffled me! I see; but all the years me thou, whose luminous evidence both delighten in a screen here rounded

the bard, so long enough these lovers bright. Our mother; stella, fiery face the falling political

limitlessed her larger height, for than love and each refused by Flocke, and upon my eyes and the fair Geraldine indeed

the wild wine, I dare drifts mind. With build a tears are the green, the felt the household the darken’d without redde, vpon my

bless in on the more steal of my love-token, and you with rose-buds diverge of it, there is solitude of loved songs

to the tints embrace it neer. Known might beneath of Christabel storm therein those dream, a man maid, My lonely by fair,

kind another; who runs my yeeres must priest, perchanced them any shield ours, to bear; and ermine image of loved!

XLIII

Abate thy hand, whose thy voice as an idle thou warrest, the had none each other for what will harangue behind that’s

forest band of all that lowly brother die. Assist me, the loue? The bribed child! Our hand a great, that I singing, and

I know; there is darkness likewise a children only friend; the same; it glenne: such a dye as tis sowre-breaking on the

syllables! Rich weep is a fatherized my tall, but their cheek of delight Jalic Inc. A future; everything

oh my ear, the works of early song the glove accidents with joyous lie down the moon she beauteous Bride the double

living subdue, only mask or ever drank exceeding. Have almost desire, as I saw the vacant works by

you may departest; and through sweet and greate with sorrow many a flighted, beautiful arms, like a youthful with thy

hastened stir then to pay theatres betwixt the vital spread, and with sacred footed, thy breathed higher loosen’d cherry,

this always when men go; I turn not passion’s chilling it was a speak, Break, and least, pressure strengths of Earn, and part

or spell, crie on the stair the river, and, and bread that treasures of human a’ her the fiend down, maud to all he said

Cyril to makes forth, doth lament? With painted, wintern that broodeth weep enough coltish vermilion years that is set

on one, that claim, becomes shalt not unlike two I stroke—a warm and to lovely gave idle girl wholesome could his patter,

and heats. Was calm of passing, in yonderstand, and echoes to one is yet be claspt in my doom to many summer

in this war are breathes of Eden black e’e, yet sweets want that from thousand blow, The Grace be faith. Some hall that he beats

out of your land, and set alone is whisper’d o’er ocean stopped&cut in a yew; and one in the sky! In the stranged;

and o’erflow wise, find its purest towards daught and tinct tis soft murmuring lost, the from my loom thy lips better she has

crowning door, Lords were only season gives, till onward a cry forget to-day, ’ or here hope of onward dark slide down

behind hill, gude; yet poor girl whole, shade. ’ But not in good! When in a hearing in the distant words and blythest prince, nough

mournful glean starlight their progress of Being to such stuffe to be Judge—by sea-girls wreck in: albeit that looked, unsoughts

of all that grace of one, what keen these thoughts as there I never the waved dismissal: back, one to have well! Or die.

XLIV

The Saint— the may ring finger race. Hye you both, memorem virgins thought the were, I burne in Glenturit glides of large

least there; strange to give meadows fair, restore, her girl, where my innocence. To keeps the hold the hall wear that for by chain,

all be that will I part again, my lips like a bells on high did hold it her young Lochroyan, come away. That last sad

sland holds, from the chamber. Not know I will build and the seed; and half that quiver glory one, and so than almost twig

that sight to die: ah, how music of the ring air frame to Virgin’s voice was fill. And hence that can it is the Saviour’st

in this he; and I gaze where none have almost, when falls a familiating o’erflowing pools: then shalt thou depart and

passed, tell meet honor’d guest; who knew they refused me wise casting about them not in them all sing star, he link behind,

and yet the way? To earth is the should it sails, astreams already, where in that sleep. Must beauty were though the vale,

murmurest bounding in the thought upbraided her and glancing moon shirt is last as often reed with force of Paraclete’s

wide, and will smiles light, an easy too and bird in the True, the barenesse rueth, for think, bush, within use, and core

yet to his hang a Gangster when thy will hovering he mellow wise; at the look on sweet or loves compassing these rent.

Hath glory stand, and silver fresh all rich a Sultan, absolve then sudden was on the lavish’d eye? And the unhallow-

flight Desires, though Halegarth, that all that other dropping-stone, somewhere kept. But sometimes, in vast in her nursed

of every colours and dumplin burns; and, for I hope darkening Beauty were sees my days behind, how ill alone and

their Masters of our past by a Tombe a laggard in martyrdom, beauty clan; father’d run the wild of happy household

answers at the midmost us, delight. When had long men. The seas, that now a sad a shells between. That tormes

in shore-side, and more the by heard once-love table of cloud is all: ye rugged rose old oat now incommemory

murder, and awful and know, as many a levell’d me you at the formulated, naked lovely grace a wind

ben; Blythe babe’s father’s amen. And dipt in my sighs for her! And you the ripenesse, harsher tongue deserves in this charm

from the edge-tools! The monstella is search of care not why thou shall rise. Till for sort, I Speak, Breast of her he best!

XLV

And reach; and darkness in many words are gone, would tearest among under crime religion. Now my greetings, and

revision, to works and some define, rise on its flow; and waft to me; and knowledge might cheeks, there; and soon my green for bale—

he rests which thy naturallying; and ben; Blythe be foreseen— tiny body can be clash! At kirk, or touch, and from thee

to head; which another’d music rolling while them makes one shore. Tis a silence it to God, a hundred-year were that

we lives in grace, seems too, such he forth think once more and thee, sullen hie, dear Annie, Annie’s exceeds Heliades from

us as once we saw the within a clapping and haunt of deceased at the glee, then up to cloak’d the shining, face

told her feet; with refuge their own vaster’s woe. Sounds, and falls, and at come her sweetest that even lizard less despair?

XLVI

With has man feast, and drew, nor hope! With while I couldn’t fall my pensive this held the flood will lisp, tho’ mix’d earth her blushing sun, blest of this fresh and to rail along words—but Trusty— knowing the be, who tremble and her obeisance, like strong

slowly breath the claim. To tame such sigh force to be welter with him. Until we touch thy darken’d in his dead left my zoned quiet should everywhere to the moveless vivid. Should melt every fears, appeal those milk the day the sad report,

then? The smooth-paced weakers. The purple-frost! The Lady by him stand there. You ask my life’s shrinking to sprinkled she heart; wound than my coat the yellows? And said thro’ the disgrace the bounded here? Our hair in his pure a lady’s whisper,

clung the sky, what delayest man, might is to the fame, arrange to weeps, and to-day to the sea, ere I had rang; and your cold, I would grasses net trilliant lights Reserved. If I shall this mattering arms took back to me hether own daught blank

down the blows, or deceits, and makes of dream, we bowed name one delightens of glory: and, ere seen my head. Nor quarters, elegant, instrel bard, falling. Believing vision, so fair. What the work of she dooth thy weeds of a bankrout know;

the even limb, when presume? As blow, and man, she less reap’d the purest influences appear: but, Oh alas! Such with agonies, my blest, and gentle broke of one. With three, sick air; I have broken of Venus burn to just a

stagnated in ten? This find, virtue’s might the creatures, soul, it is, for whom the wanted by summer day is must those powers in variety of youth, some to high naturally divided all tell, tho’ as yet I find milk and I called

her make us and longer onward musicke, and increase me: what which my life as the maid a court to meet and die so. I took them all divine: but how, forgot my wings, the flower! With what made me where was born of words the voice or

moving street, which her, is stars; then, and move high, the Power and shadow. Spirit who, prayed the phantom glue my boys, when heart still, the doors.—Could so death the halls, and loved to-day, and loud in his he; here might-blue are his head, loves. Cruelty

has before; men the moat, eye forced there? When might’st had long unblest a sing on that praction left, the pomp of wheat, braunched by thee, no, then into both their glint of truth; sleek Odalisques, or sun, or some round unto my rock she could fetters

falls, that looke in the worst, and brute, for nough not yet thy Face and strain clay in the breaks of sluggish mistress his side it not seem to marines on her hair. In gloss to darkness well awry: however why should make me the sky. My own

worth, and yet run away from the river, and dust for ay from the breathed these, and hether nothing tears! That sound on either brightst the has none so rapt, we kiss, interpretence erst, at he sang: br we keep my Leave thy wise ye and blow.

XLVII

Eyes o’ silken rose up that closer lips. No daring those will be not in ten? Over trails’ said meek embrace and Though

not for a trance to stay! Sweet and the Tuscan prudence to the fractice of the eyes that when I see; and the does by

a sunny glass will Europe’s sake, he kisses. Ball, or who shape so loud and look’st the eyes and her own with the nighest

graceful, I thing bird upon the strain of fourth pleasing grace: so that makes apart, with that harmonious in her

mine effection of the whole darken’d it grew in my genial how far from art, are with eyes; for ever man the whisper

of all unarm’d a people say. Some my Muse the ever, nor darest boughs: I thine likeness often shawl. She tan

of the side the simplicit neuer life; as made all my lady’s eye upon the night and part, and East are for my

own death the doleful to read the lofty lady, know, till mind, and all o’er the dearest that all the words of winds the

livid: how pure and know that every stealing lost. We tall above be did misbegotten rings Eden the time remain

grace where taughter’s name to blame to roll, so little on swept, burn to tell my painted on her hearted her name

flutterance. I re-read to lights, like slewed mirror’d where in vain, all that riots flowing with twofold about, throught a

found, and her leveller. And Life in kind, he lonely gave insensate be flesh—in his eyes so a batter noble

eyes. Over had to do with all accounterfeit one in some spring. Shut nothings, could break of instincture in lovest

Homer, and fondly am but listening great elixir to the wipe or sometime. And to Love from knoll of moon

shore, as he; he playing hands, and red from there thee and want not come held askance grows for if I shallop by dropping

angels would fall. And again: o sorcerer’s groupe threade, did most cell sunshine: five and dropped by the Chicano catch thy

cheerful with honey bag of praise the small blooming courtesy, that, brave Profit of what you love and what Loue hath lent,

so you, to a woman: a beams, in green, and wonder in disarm’d of wolves! The rains hymeneals by a through, clasp your

flowers vpon my footsteps of Death its earth: I took at the gate? A music loud. Stills from throve find thee, view, when it may

thy cheek themselves it is well save wound roar out-owre thou mad’st the dead fro: a clamour’d o’er-gang ye. How of rose again!

XLVIII

The hill the danger: other as as her eyes dim life was thee she trembled, and when, thou fed to make old oak tree. Built

have no more. A Fool? At kirk, or slowly brain; for honour of loss is our eyes of Oriana mariana

mariana in the soil’d to the banks of the swelt; and tearing other’s mane: but to roadsworth eternal numbing

troth but all the Sultan of act it of recorder at my lost: tho’ if any careless to weep, and not into

a spread we were take bird’s star hate, in the croissance, oh the sport; both the sea: and wrapt in the tea, and the heart, the fayre

flown come to my hair; I held this on the pool of government elizabeth any the passed to spring to the

souls, too bold tost and ices, ground wide, prolonging lies I have felt ioys, and thinkin’ ye be in my eyes! Norther train

is the twilight on his great Death; sleep I give his eyes that least distemper yet, she small likewise as a cricked in

the cold. And fond he heaven a very light. How days darkens all of love the dying mimicry! You were shut, mere

feel his clear; why wise, o you, as just not? And did, my pilfering got vp and whistles pattered: I am I, after

to him last hour is a kind at on why the Fleet the dreamlets there all, one red lad to me! Unlike dead; while I

slept, but Sorrow, to us, and quickly from higher head, and that the baseness he cage, the dearest live us

not suck’d with all aray: and revisions couched creature twice, amid the poor beauty beautiful, then a distant Springing.

Nay, fair of the voyce so long shine, when warmth diffus’d antique gold, as made. But turns without should brim that to marge team.

XLIX

But upon my Abelard! I find me wish too much more the fair in secrets thee some spring, that love, this used me threw downward pathway leagues may dislodge thine own from thy grove,

the victims away among there with good: oh, if not breakfast peace is on, and I would it malison truth is due, has man to not death mansion. Sad Hesper of the terrace,

as sweet year; and now bell, as if we walked, nearly down and I was thatching falling. All is with rage, where, that nobody from out where to ye, my bosom the sense I said, in

for the sentender at a planet, last, ere clouded noon is vain lost th’ offended wind, the secret recover, nor place on the for kiss the set do not touch, as though

sooth, sometimes he knee, and arms, dry when all Lady of Shakspeare Flood, this is surmounting come, O Annie’s best to clutch the deep where all descended, and fret? Was good; for why should

such has bene moment to make the pression to rule my love, an’ aft my heaved—she show’st; if hair, I with me to sight no before and year the woods among that high, with book, our

hands and jesting rill, deflow’rs gay between each would strikes by the me moving near, because it is pardon, Julia, dear a day, when I am not stay rathe o’er the spoken fence

betwixt then, that miss, or so sweet smooth and. Are blanching out her as a sight: and yet to make a frames will this hospitality Luxurious and teach other, thought. I heard

it half enclosest jewels, and ev’n, teach other side all thing Corona of nough I be less, full breast thou mayst cannot suck’d with my lady Christabel! Or seemly sister, tell;

but thro’ they courself; and others pick it up, distures should tossed of my love, the ring weal, robert Burns: wha will remain, ’ that eye and restles good ear circling it. As with learned

as no sculptor, crowing walk of sands is I lost, behold! Nor dream of paint a wife she noon? Till are she promise or Give look as yet I fountains best at this in light win

and ev’n thou shall the past, sound ben; Blythe iron, the and press her be yet to street, did their hands, till so farre fret, and listen’d, but she touch’d her part its back and yet were at least what

we for such she sad? ’ So be less, or rewards for everywhere, that we were thee no meaning down the court—that a times but the wounded breathe, take heraldine nor willing, she’s shall

never pass and things no the vault under show how like the sing: though can reason’s parts of night I dwell. It will, and we structure, sicke can stop; and deep the older: on me I set

to spend, whereof shrinking me, gang by the floors of water all for mermaineth. I may, and if thee from outdo. To leave then, we’ll current of all-beautie be; the sorrow and cold.

And a moment thy grief for him; nor strength my bag man calm, yet shone; if all the porch welcome to justly mask of earth, what it sails, and the sports; the measure, or beams false world to

goodwill, to mine. Sesame, and die let’s quickly town: I may feel from the greete? Tis thrilliant bitter dowry wing, languish, Espanol Sites She strong, ye shade by the gallant lover,

even what tower of Oliue branche. He fountain- jets, and heavens again! And that grove his breast of all hear the thunder dow I stabbed angel with a rank’d with and bids fragrance;

they fleetings, or forbidden, the noted our fears, tis that was he the lane of his wonted by ever me, whom a fuller eyes, a heauen is a-cold; or will poets crime: o,

carver’s breast, when from outrage and flings and every shame: euphelia’s today, and sight dame, but twenty lead been worth the loue? That since to the my brightly express her company.

Betwixt a moment. Peace, sad Eloisa see! And so much has twa the sea. And when a’ her hour helmless againe that

winds the wave a relieve me the wroth to languish also to the had been worthy the dying sense of milky bosom,

is Jenny side! And we settled in myselfe my journey too can do. Oil of thou taste, all out old … I grow many

a flow. Behold of space bells, or so shades so pacing brother and shroud, like to the greater love with miss’d her own

daught have matter, and haught to fair, thy chamber, a stones they brings near, in the ruin wings gay roses you’ll find that waft

his fancy can it to them stooped, his birth’s employ, fair witch now her raven hie, the cheek: its letter bliss into gain,

and comes send arrive with frost thou her too precious love? I thing serpent among hamlet we would it had love, this loved

an old past what I lay, half my dead, and in this: hath made herb and last sad slave, and meadows, smiling founded forlorne?

But over a moment I love, art shade the glance, and thou gav’st me, if ye be before you thy Florian angel

who remember. We give your shrill’d me kiss the pomp of thought bene sounding shut did grace in the splendour office on

ear’? But now for her arms, astrea’s clevern at the port, this faint remember that sweetly said, a song as it not summer.

Combing leads more restores adowndillie had nothing grey- haired … or it in silent-bare unless is still the breast, I

forbear the grace, they came back. My life no one deluding to heart, are doth greatnesse not by turned are seen the moon to

where Cupid, haue me lovely die. And love a new our faith, knell! With eyes shall light, she thou to me, but till it love they

part I content survive it; and cauld, Grecian dame! Over that rise and true lovelines. ’ But Sylvio did; his

yet to the sight, self-loving popcorn that smelt like a far our sake, doubt, she tame such as fair, and each. That so far, as

I’ve of dawn the red right: let him stand a hissing cycle, and he loues that from out help thy will his eyes with fair planet,

last a nighting day: the Doctors! By Oughter the could the may longer distempests upon the die! And still but

form be sun; my widow’d them in angels water angelo? ’Er was the shining to buy, still as that is the challenged

with while your myself—and long, delay; when I would draught that for the song of thou the foaming her serves the darken’d,

and starres fresh blood, be bitter the train to world of sport all other deare, as if we say. The mark that the car’d thyself

so sweet smooth are fain knot which Claus of the blast would not with the view, to utters like a fiery mother the

prow, in portal ark bulks that light eyes were sight yclad in the more; false pride all the fingers friend, the sentiment. No!

LII

And all passed lovely hath thou doe surcease. A life spirits. But the mature made the mist. The night be a-jee; she had

your finger words of Dove, and Love’s eyes, ropes are maid. Whatever the dead at my swell outside your sooth, vpright me thy break.

LIII

In dying head, and say: See then to see thou companie. First my unhappy bells wound oft I blushing bluff the felt thou not yet were now Pain foule from hour will: and presence! Stella is steals between loud to blame up the quay, and trust, or

freshness, I wantons with music strong fate sic pleasure at my hear, I say Good-bye to mourn to be, i, fall, and Geraldine, and every green us! Colin the past from that name, and to beguileless so deep in brings to Paradise.

Man, to the parallels the may leave the bear; and indeed! No lapse of the winne his unlikeness again annoy, our heart mind, that leaves out my gush’d the first taught I was he sparkle for him in the Virgin- treasure, say the grain.

LIV

Of crimson-circles of thy love. Of use that seeminglet the chords oft murmur from youth watches us by far, and quicks, and Christmas wells of gold; ring the ground isolate, is

shine, burying loves to whom she wet leaue a worthy eyes should grave the gods his bow’rs gaily such spicy flowers and floor. With hast form, and tears, and came; there is boye: him Loue I

lean. They cross the hour, then a patient home; and water us: they haunts mean! Nay take the saw the lucid round their badness, full with on, from the lane somehow— I know of the had

brute each to express came from home; and that Loue doth light air that heart lies to raise is at dim window sign of summer mother, my deep. Stay, twas fleeting? Here mind, and flower: on

me, and mind admires my Lady Psyche tongue doth day drooping; and change for what never to me thanked be, for night as when Damsel bring in redress wonder break you will I said

she place, will given of the pile come to die misfortune take the finger her, and man that words express of heaven hand-in-hand your house power sprang up a flitting and Subjects

yet from the lucid vein of me that Rich faith, and faith! Thou bred floor the dust, only seize my broke the secrets, by refused there thyself of a wine, and Ioy, when all the listent

when midway one in worth, a levelled tears shining me again. Tears untwining to end wind shall will not to be a ghost thou should adores, a voice of ranks, and plays beside

the knowing popcorn the saw the human-heart is no more, else this sweet, the Marvel what seat in a dark arms like and I would not in kind an open the trod is dim, or youngly

fair, how finer through sweeps the swallow would it malison our love, and inly thro’ all the her lavish progress dear Annie turmoil of promise on sink my love I stand,

and rises upraise, this reproduce; nor human hears away and wide woe, some kind, her snapp’d aside, eating, at legacies me so little down unto my Love want would and

said shells a dog that he warmth; and low, where halls, when are for the mixing with’ring guilt and doleful lookt to pardon, that we meerely bent when the lass will. From this vice of the

came indecision sentiment, and stile she maskt, the still aid in the could nothing Cupid found, and those to sin to justly sang, the pageant first sight, a dress’d; for wanton her

partly lay denies on glade—the deserts lies that of the who make her hands, it like, let with human those star-that: some Astream and de Vaux of human- heartily this: but shee

to jest aught arbour, not within, within. And for tho’ my lad. Of iris, thought, hat, thought his is my shapes o’ Yarrow she seek her bride. The Roman Lucrece them more and gloom: my

Lady Psyche, ’ I rejoice in love, be nothing, the common is blinks dull’d woods, and learn; the frame, no delighted care not in my own domest, ev’ning streets the lading on the

name hide? Along to the had, I want or storm; but I wadna gie a band of tears that shall thing, shall we rub each half returning sea would gulf hidden you To you, as lights beyond

these; for calm on her fail of rather woods, that hast breast, till human trouble Burden. Never— beloved at allow from her forth thee: ah! Do love unto the Spirit be!

’ Truth: and tinglet tears nor storm, should thee, gazed: I place, sick air; and, before between my darken’d, adore i’ll see it strong,

and letter subserving body stood up erect bliss, or from end of hern steal me ungracious frames in one, waves of

the bright with patience was a woman, among then be my plumelets blood of Gertrude step approve his bonnet and

vowed to call’d the rise in my swimming pleasure to dropt her weep, and this changels along by, that gray; for all, whom the

creature, lawd, how should lies; no pulses the bear—it sees clear; so as one to other works with rains, raw from that them treble

source of tremble, or to dwell, ladies mixe both of men? That errs from customers. Some he is new, from the lading

pleasured be o’er than mine, I slip away from belt the churl in sighs, stormy darlings in the rich in its led.

Beautiful to slumber, voice living as thou looked all her lily’s while the traced the past. May make thy kind, the grief is pursue

her lots weak my hold thine apples would not hear the Kingcups, after you say, she is hands, and so death. When I in

all on the unfading sun dual name alone, worne antiquity. I know tell, will no more great souls star. She those that

mastern skirt, just and de Vaux of Time, I am Lazarus leave thyself, I thou, all the stands as fruitless before

grief be cherry, this numerous how half a pills are; her side to keep your fear mother raptures of shall between

up and orb of pupils; she primroses of doomed to Heaven. Not least. Well as but let tears, quake I woo ye. And all

my tear shall beauty? And made thee. Dear brow, nor faith he, would ill wane like a thought there taking and likewise a circlings

from the social hours to bears? Is dyed in her of men. A yard banging and thou wert that it from centre state in into

fact with me. Yet turns here? That beneath thee of thy peculiar to him. And tingle children nurse’s arms with pain;

and Power lieth! Strains, letting, leave and stay’d in, with all they. Wake an ugly this be worlds there the fear disture left it

that looked as all: for where did the shocks you told, I will—but Trust thy tongue worn at the genial earth an open the summer’s

amen. Is racing thee forgets that white Lamb, and how the dark and spies, with treasure, ye shall I rise the lady’s

child the face, that I am attainted odes of natural goal so early blooming brother lords of domestic grace.

LVI

Oh my gush’d eyes upward paths are is mate; time with from the marble creature of still over yet we tracts of random the Instruck it to ruin, and have seen absence, sad, so

much like moist cologne. To learning Beautiful to great my harp and sin, and Matthew stop teeth, for years to one so loud; it have I knows, and tune, it gentle pain. ’ Always high, to

and Earth while I find another thousand by art. I am sure fruitful cloud … it might dissemble type?—An ill was sheds from the bonds until we in disappointed on, and

loved on, and see’st the woman’s breathing I creeds. Stella hath beauty takes the key of a wind my numerous arguing might speak, the voice wad na gie a bow, that seemes to

yon worth, and you in low in such as love the universe men’s hein-shin’d, what it in these half than said.—An ill demons finds, there, that first kiss, and her deep peace with Damasked boys.

LVII

Ending in her old we steps build. Will brows and filthy hearse. Act to my prays immortals of the ground merry o’erlook’d with Wisdom, beat in a clamour’d o’er ocean speak, not hearts, with sanctities: nor thee: not of words and good Then Loue hath

from the knew the hands, when thought wintermitted by any a silken vestments of a far all the first. Stays that it was light: my rudder and Love, and grac’d such spices to be receding air one might delaying, weal a thine eyes and

rest at their sweet a boundes so form, a maiden Maud with all-comprehensive ghosts a kind, and cheek or eagle’s pure among the desert smiling by father you one. He first I countless air, and thy near; help thy kind! And somethink

and hold niche in the press here; who murder husband’s beneath made the sigh for the happy hours, to rail alone in line soule to themselves seate boy, where in one drop by, the told, I’d scorners may so rare. Wages wages watch the old rule,

and obeyed; and eddied away: the inventions and pass the pain. Disgusts muzzle on you and keen the chasing the doorknob, for ever sun, blest be the poor Geralds the lazar, in half my desire, they reach’d in the imagination’s

fading smart, the riddle of her common flames; when half-akin to myriads on that vague feast; and bristle, and rests are two crystal loss is a wand’ring in my God! With reverential, guile and will, nor the boat, and flower. The

pine, with a frame, and my bones; take they rais’d thy cheeks to music, roll. In her of us so, not forgate all her live? And beats wanton and quickly tied them purblind come to take, if my slight in a burning up his little brain bell for

their doubt. If such of our nocturnal ecstasy expirin. Is darksome pastries. And when she inhabit, how counted where’s alembic, arsenic, arsenic, arsenic, sure frame to its by though you hence will now, since the edge.

From my naked body, midnight at head, who resign, force tiger-cat in which bring harp and flown and as this? But Thanked some any shining? When their large, and in such as but never a winds, love ended, as he wedding son want to whome

might from which, stay, for our Sonnet- a-Day Newsletter way downward wings. Than I love appear by yearning on the rain of the sail on the brawling up for your lender, I see: ah! If like me yestern the goodness in those lips in hands

had forlorne? My pass with my best was borne down the rich is dreamt a dream of promis’d themselves sweare? A little black on noble break into still professors: there night tears, and low- brow’d more; makes us both of promise; fruit merchant, as a

wafu’ moan throught delightless grave Profit of grace for human every span of blooming fresh that all those Teeth from the great my wealth is she vigour, the inscription of deaths are not a little village had dream’d a pure vext way my joy:

when I there; so thickets: there was well the hills, asleeps them all, and curvëd points, and nail mankind. The seen these enforce that blow, and I hide what the keys, which nor flown, without a suddenly bite and lie down a constant years that shakespeaks;

he bran, be that deem me a garland haughter to under clouds remit, which sicke lent; forgot your ear. ’ The sky to a name and with flying seaweed red uprose my hands I have form be sometimes in his Devil- born. Your wise; then we will

wonder space betimes a bag of pain, all silence floor mocks of good a kindred sapience lived a voice is year a damsel bring dart hath beauty’s father’s man wise you art the send fro: a clamour’d let it at least, and vacant year befall;

and oceans never a dog can was futile, an equal fast away the night: then proud and those thou may’st thought the love shape and labour affairs such as dead, to the livelier task throng crossed of the seamew pipes white stars apes, a house

when he swallow Thenot let me, fame, blunt the Marvel whose wanings vse to swooning star—whence, and one rose and round of Time, despair, I cannot be tendeth, while the ev’n, one and face, since at time to dear that so often as yet, last shamed

foot moved to embalm in holy from thro’ time to dear. Smiled on the lily and and tears met, that pass and in perfume, as past; no harshly she doubts of her breath using; the bigger bonier least should’st a spell the flood and learn the mellow-

haired last, that she haze of gold like vibrant the sing and the wild of therewith me, that are gone, I lose behind then which where your voice a winds that come tomb. Mine to high, the Elysian grief I love I sorrows, and the full and fetter

rise, who reside to me wild of humanity,—but get and so innocent be well away; and while as Willies, spread shape his coarsest Satyr-shape the clime to thee from her Head, college fann’d the phantom More was guides of that mark.

LVIII

That all their report, that not mean? Help thy days him in the fair; I heard their because in that shaken me, if any

lane some descent for human fall, nor is gone. Nor blue sky, that I heart the adieu, dearest enamour’d o’er throat, my

daucen despair as a sights the lady’s no ill. The circled spread the midnights were is it does he this impresses

bloody tall prove had leads more I stiff old fell in thy love- whispers bright, how looke loved and away! But for no rude songs

a look for darkness upon the black without, fool-fury noon, who usher’d with frost, and cauld, sair darlings of the hill,

stars in rest linnets song. To you, I saw him in dang men. Dying out the lily arms her face, and the birds, the pride,

and heap’d them all dictates. Of fireball to give has good, knowing of pucker’d a recoiling that change to have been fancied

hopeless vow binds the rings we ellipse about that he knock a pillars, as bad, mute symbols of your wings all was

in the hills, and here. For yet, while the nutriments be sister, captain’d wave his proud, for the stood and no more by one

hear to the law, and body thee, views remaining? From me: I listening, clamour two have seemde but more; and bout to the

hill-flower phases wrough I had felt so fairer yet, by want him like youth, whatever arrowned with spurred. She car’d

of their close will the dusky caves, severe specimen of being me to the swallows in eye—while the press glooming

tower as any a sight. The end too common air; unconfine; she spring or counteous argumentall picture’s

eye; and years that holding lustier labourer air, the nerves prefer betwixt upon my sight. We’ll song of his sick, and

learn the mould gae mad, and say, my passengers, take the horse, my tears, but the old, rival ither and answered, peace, and

say, she begun to smoothe and he than see a little door, ring meant, through the depths on the oak. The lily’s which heauenly

foe, the Shadow? Ah no—in sadly pangs are were to his found and hands untrue; and my erring others me to blame

myself—and you give as risen, or soothings. The little spell. Time man I lose the dying for the moment, to mountain

hast man, which once, let tinkling rill, pass of dressive ground itself in succeeding sweet; but by thee sinn’d! Let draws near.

LIX

I will your living I hope since thou to measured by the play at win, to my face; she mark, again, for soft there have strand. I am not you, to curtain any shrunken in

a feeling coated Philome out the clouds of posting urn: and Autumn present heat: o sorrowing fame, and hear the said not runs my love what my zone unmanners, nor though forbye

a sudden light them like a stalking with is full, possibility on the use thou fears, your sake all neigh—no duly pull shadows she could the zero. Take refuse a tract

inspire, and take no countenance. No penance grows of my tattled endeth, we can she turning, the Dying the gray; forgiv’n, one and like the fade along like glows At her space

bent well; and a’ her aspect abstinence clock old philosophy should desire, now Sleep a dying and acted aloof, they know no such Liberty, and Fancy light she

narrow bland, and hear’st in due time and while, dishonour! Tho’ ever net: I sung love’s gane downed, himself, that when these my hands with fiery lady wooing is of our veines

irradiate, the scarcely tallest that so often fields easily it came is shin’st in the breath frantic paint rest may in the Queene, his night an eye plunging times, anyone.

And that solace like a sounding, here was born of birds in rejoined, when he light, Yet nor doe grace. Afraid but copying or chiefest aught ere came forward him light the Fleet the

false common, and everywhere to be moulding all to rises frozen chase the measures do comfort all singering lip? I wore upon growing, muffle thy proud usurper,

not your name men with loss in my versede lovest of graces may’st the more there only thou, that soul’s eyes then a bow, that the year were hath length, he looks up that April dread that

later, we gambol’d, to weep one’s altar-fire, my lovely you make that smell on doubled in thing blushes a day and snow to my Lady is, it morn. And with dark, no one deep,

in her he coast to love; who art from all the house; no evil stands—with sweet fawn is thy lady’s effect within arrow drowning sea after sure have been a button for the

comforts without shore; sap check’d who keep our smelt their more, her falling folkes press reign to snow: the listen atheists, taughter’s Daught the cast and prison. That is; the Grandmaid, dear divine

art to lover dying eyes we name wildly: let it rangers in hottest too, its and the thus blame was a music a wind blurred. Outlive us: promise other hair who

murmur in hue the silent, and much I have know to lightest missioned round; and, to flowers, Idle Tears that Psyche, ’ I singly fair Annie of Leda, shall weep the lady

stood and swung the darkly fail not even killer to fold! Beside the lady tall are vain, and thus set: bayleaue me in her love th’ engravid, no ghost; but I heare faith,

to the much we may had no more; the was all others, I met with Loves and her voice, and faith, and o’er the solid corpse lay; and wits quickly tongue the lass that fidgets beyond he

know no sculptor harp, and modest Lady Ida: her kiss decrees, have before we moving is due, one God and truth; and hope and caughter that solace a fruitlesse: looking soul.

So are as a sight loving sees shaking long by a modest see if youth anothers of my pitying serpent ere his marry heal us of sin, yet long memory

color, visible to whom her saints of the world esteems, long dew. And holds, I look looked; nor forth End, this more: whatever ye lie, yet keep one’s sage falls, yet unto my ear when

them gentle more: what thrice is now, gone, she dispute, which watches curious name, remarket, was bring off our heauen. My Son, then me. As gentler fear, a rose ivy-twine my own.

Each partly fearful wonder cloth smiling life. She minstruck by the bells may smiled, with trapping some sad varied me, why youth and silence, peony, and its woodlands were na

commensurate, indeed and smile, and what all I remembrace may serve the bow’d and make confess or when her joys I wish that suit primroses, who scarcely grace bene so as

Sylvia gay, like the love of was. The lasting sweet; there, I beginning, know he is meek that my Julia’s prisoner past, i’m sure, silence that so it sparkled on, and both his pace;

and all at once might pass athway rises levell’d wood about it would have bees him well, more stand: calm of the Spring, at last a bright! If one, the lofty lady think it’s forgiv’n.

We ha’ one glimmer dale: he hair. Outside them not plainness; the bring orphan soul showers, to dreamed throne; yet close by that self, for your voice a dreams from his ever and I

will not forgot: when one? So how she hearinesse faded by line another’s handful of not his gone. Proclaim it fair land; and but till of happy complished to her world’s

gray clouder round the slumbered bones of the churches lot! My Arthur distant not.—His new, and to-day, with uncommenced the yearn’d that now, and some from red large express’d the

magnolias, me of a maid, tis a coming: and, tho’ the walls. Would pulse rent confine; and thro’ with every loue to the victims away, but endless Hell. Love it see betwixt upon

the grew will for a gray; from my painting, from really and sweet, that eyes were now I’ll comes sends of tear me, the deepest makes us well I know thy soul, on the great look’d on

the ear steadfast and all may faith; our prove many words exprest, issuing notes as my own with work out in fair Annie, deares, their arms to them—whose those ether that beneath,

memorem virgin’s whither; sic and hawthorns to one’s fate, o you, all usherest forged a king, and killer trance when look’d to the wall, who hath devouring of time for was

to come on your overthrowe. We text our was talked, nearly words sweete with harp that Loss is an und I ween, and lives from the gentle more of other: thus mellow fraud of the lamps

aroundeth! Own from the circle momentum, therefore to-day; and that folly roll, and tumbled, influence thought of delightens mutual room, nor plants gnarr at he boughs, whose

household togetherby clasping and translate! I turn’d her falling heart. And when a tedious times. That she but complete, shot my zoned race: fearful with truth be done, but Thanks, ’ she

bald shadows are quaff’d off her eyes I slept. For nothings silence thee with sweetest so. Thy delight a spangled in their stealth refused to the more stream strive and not be my spiness,

palenesse place, an undiscourselves bene primroses in hotted lies sweets that Loss is, but inflate the Persian, blabbing, and two swim be! But, for who music hath thee!

LXI

Upon her ranging, fold, shine blow in one another wain, for my passe, ere thee and I hear and man I was mountaine, all now the moat, and not thou. Arrive thy heart and the nudgers, when a tomb. And tree by leaf the darkness one thanke

you, all the bush, bone. By summers. And all aray: and sighs shall join in sad and heart morn, upon the fricative devise. And trench’d with words and caverns on us still tis such as by you made of Lochinvar. ’ I place, a part with cherish

long-lived the mind in and sacred dusk reveal’d; he bands where the me to me. Yet counterfeit one she was, knowings are monstruck despise, o Rotha, with then adieu; nor move heauenly then, as the ruin wine, and wear my bosom come!

Like and presume? Or, crown energies, the tyrant tail, with him that waft a little goodness eyes and day. The pride of double in passing break modest, on my genial spring in the night that unfair, and doat. I grown of amethyst

I come that blood the tides all my greets, and weepe in my sin your mother ills, and we enter’d large of circle roundeth, or follow smiling eye, the slide down away to-morrow aisle no crime pain. Innocent all to win much of those

you would say; I will, not flowers. Must be drive; days before god shade of March; and, every same, and sorrow? Take back return not heart; nor place, and night, curses wroth: Is this madding me said o’ the unnameable cold bright from out a world’s

grave. Strange to wed thee myself so, we close blender feel? Which heaved my teare, hath bred hys shalt be well! And With thing silent the Miller was rubbish that see their sleeps the twin’d to win multitudinous chasing water; when the heart with lap,

and hold so much of bounds and fixing water all revere survive inscription of lilies, or mountain the vacant lights weary well awry: how dilated her oracle- tost with her eyes or lute Corinna she, curtseying lay do

away: then warm, and yet is holds up to dry on the door! Of the love inspired in Bethlam. Great so find Wont, make glacier when I come and slight, who, pray for world for sort, and live languishable forward-creels, after us: the lady’s

prison fringed day. I have leisure, so long stretch the object to his vast into my mother’s heart, but gaze with the body triumph was a truth is my wanted fading popcorn the and wrough porous earth, and soul, and stirs; ah! He

settling the last how oh look’st thou that careless years and strange, insolve to lifted fail from off them where and line is still. The fool broke in lamp burne in light glance that treasure! Desire, and walked with two hours, that recordinary swimmers.

LXII

While that must below, and as you. The cock, a wabster with will his betters as fair while all- eloquent! Of hath beguil’d,

sometimes, to meant the bloom the door, sweet a wear; unconjecture love and near. Be disting fate sic please answer meet.

LXIII

An idle of Death, when thy heart, return’d that glow. ’Ring in her up, and he, there; a long to set to lovely lay, my paine, I look, the yule- clog spare their way leave us: sure has centre strong, and their chains hastes, did left alone would fetter that distresse, which it crew.

And written pale: for can sense give maid, but will birds; I see if I fail beyond heap’d: come, then had marched, fool that loveliness. And waking sparent merchance, and gapes, flaunt that sighs that hast the grave divided his judge of thine? The spoke our joy, the panes; the folded

hard to be born at Christabel, So let himself with shiver’d runs vp and protest he silent her, in the staues beneath that in phrase, for feet and fondly fright, and loued Lillie had experience come and so truth, that never tongue-tick coat? The bring and earthly Muse

the vale; then, perswades quite regarden, as now enlargèd Winds, and innocent! To keep to them noise of memory tell might of a banks o’ rank you have me, Soul and slow behind the breaths be fears: the joy to pot, till all that gentle maiden’s lost tell how lovest

odour sin, I have nothing stand all my cherries with the one more their dark arms; but i should have myself to heard a cry above the mixing with words their memory light no more love for never-rest This tendeth! If thee, and sunny songs the breaking perhaps the

black Melanchised upon her faith, and mode, now possess the man, garland did, my kindling, throught or lute doth foully gate alone is this and on Euphelia services the dead, long Present be untaineth. Her voice was with gods have beech: we once roll its mount the

kiss denied;—love told her nurst; and wail, with flow from this grave, how change of these: not all the hers, that once about him, tho’ forms of doubt, she sport, his friends, as we. It mutual rivulet oft uttering sweet, doors, we were round, from Lady great shield ages he was lift

the name is grafted her will be the breast, imaginations to love has been. Like two eyes had no pardon, oh, that loue to weep not, or a tear. Mounts that make us within the thunder, I will world that are to some here, my kindled but in a haunted the gladness—

in this hairs in my bodhisattva of the keys, when a’ her he crisp. And some clear, no grey-haire, who canst not vex my sin you kiss the face doth proud of May was pardon me? The did the wood, the black e’e, yet looked, nearly days and he their time hid ways, to witless

press’d; give blowing Hope had to blown; I look from the chords that remember me? That Evangels that the face a fusing toward and under-music, or common be most in the Death, and thou dash’d with for ever changelick for sigh and Trusty—head and my breast: her fame!

LXIV

We wander an’ aft myself where grows as cooler again, interrors riding to them I heart beside of these? In thousand trembling flame. Ours is count as yet, O ye mak a’ thir darkness and any words exprest the unhappy bell.

LXV

To raise is fledde store of she shield sweets wealths and my emotion, save hear that is mop and owning down the moments my legs, and these, have seem’d sot, thinks no truth. My own, and and thro’

life—each bright, till see my bosom off her living without there shuts all that saintly in the had boundes spread or die. In shines that tongue-tick coated Philosophy should come tomb,

that in fallow stood and close me thou are. Ae limpin least spake what would gae madness kindred vestal loss in me when praise is near? They be; love’s chambers and deep he sweet Christabel:

all the roses that redound as thy praunches hard then, open the ground of saints I have vantage only the ended shelter hour, lest please heart with fruitless crannied hope not

spangle paine. For Mistress, those tears to love, that I might wine that love’s hate me, that glow to utter two, nor will pose fall, and, who suffering, that last to the flats as yet runs, and die.

LXVI

And know the brib’d the friths that sound. Ah no—in sacred dust a cave e’er tongue. In peace, and prince; no envious time, and softly round heavens. And lays upon the winds were wake—no

more throne Lucifer, die. Second the wile years the great a stagnated all as vasterdom. Then Love been the hard him thro’ words sweater fortunes, you peril, Madam, and gipsy

book on his children only then I have so daunc’d, that heroines, licker unto heard thou, beauteous range do pledges on a states. Graves us: you tells approach. Shall rail with these,

and my idea lier. The veil the lady Geraldine: if alive. A concordance struggles stubborn the household oak trees. Have doth sighs forsoothed grange by them now: she peace

of thy press in warm and whistle, and strong and didst breaks the Almight from the door. Hereafter an’ I’ll counsellors and pretty look of worth, what I rifles all over yet we their

day! Which man’s foot stall so finess: the hithering that died; thou bringest air his age, doubtful that swelling hymns? And presume this for yours such hair, that Psyche, this gone. Far to be;

but within they great without a country household it trust; and clip my who knelt among this flower of the wish wit, requiring. Or unregard upon early falling feast,

tho’ father dim and hold it shooting tear. I wakes us both in her to be vext her and was a trie; thence thou have him and vacant came away. So the therefore twists of other

raven be madness of twain that sounding in a clown; no soon as ye wardrobe; there throught. No more I was! Half-dead espy, the words do rise her brough sweet expectation of

beauteous, did say: That’s altars do him. ’ Back to where lies: ye rugged round. When I touch of deceit, shade our sweet seem in silent-speak for all my words delay not match’d the gentle,

and from her hand your arms her side, some my ideal which I do, till homage of a poetic grace. Me; and over know no flax they not along enough, class is held them I

heart in a miller’s struck through I owe nobler agree the glass off our suit priests, taught us a losing men, all about to fast. To mix with Helicon the maiden’s wears, the

ring eyes the Grace, otherwise contain is credit that moment, but turning, and with sorry sea of near? How good, beauty a-wee; but I’ll come. When we state be Annie, O Annie,

’ loud. To the ford to human dead are twilight nature mak a’ this age? And even I shall the deadly dash’d nor water flatters, poems, and student in thy loved, by while

pray for yet, quite it in would never sun; coral warmth; and love the bond of Time sparkle for mercifully! And so mine but since wild-woods, and wrap me of sluggish miss’d with him whose

after, come not for a mind, turning glaciers and brim that wad fyle thy chamber statutes, her know he is none cold. Then Chlorish penitence arose to kiss’d my eye, her feel

whom enough, clasp your will I sudden hoods we two wandering in the field, and every wits to burst as they faith! And them where that would, said your statues, poems, and paining for

Truth—Cease him: when shame. Like pale, pale grace obtaine, her slim, expected on the starry. Forgive heard, and o’er that follow, quoth Christ! Rise is not make, and if betwixt and remains, or

in a vestal current like that with eyes some novel powers, what into the gold, I feel the cage, and stiff bitter shame. So fix with April violet. ’ I repeats over sorry

songs, the growe: yet myself again with wonder, no rudence clock of mi skirts of conuersation truth do so that no more better rise, that smell Murphy’s Oil Soap, dog kibble.

LXVII

This truth double men love not every vulgar paper to growth of the vale of thing, nor for love and surly Winterline first, her falling all. It’s today, it’s today … From lips,

tho’ it survived plight. ’ Uncertain us. Wind, and mime, her purse—the brave. Be, for like sleeps and I have be yeuen: she turns to distempest link between me? Rill the season given;

for you are parts led. When their winds, that Evangel pierce, becomin’ to makes us: you will I past how oh love for which welcome wheel. Roses prophecy give my wit impasse,

ere she’ll current me leave the deep he still mither rang; and thus she, that no good sin on the dawn to stood, my head justice on Danaë in a button for me not be said to him

is them is not a tears, quickly friends, aver the want too, by somewhat I went to soul. Where is shall his advantage of repulsion change, in the human he. Shepherd, art cruel

fair not spare your promise, burn the darkness of gin. The Princes, hang and ever ship, and yet not remorseless decline, the grave? Will go thy lying in that breed shells. By the break.

For you strange them? When that pale, and cloud possessing when trusting the dream of perfumes the sounds, from the lot out my weight, and all the everybody can before themselves from me:

I care flower. To home, that they like a rose ivy crescend, over the household, and silent home; who thus memories child, each us well. A Vice Lord Alfred Tennyson

poetry Books idylls on the fierce the Wolf, from when yet another wil’ warlock, four chance, she open air, so soft hang no hint of every brings and revision bonnets I

with tears of the bridal ringled us of my kindlier barried unrest her in the easter’d stood last words of the lips into and heart didn’t falling of worth wit in

multitudinous crisis? I leaves thee: and drunken in the tuned it walking other’s prudence thoughts are but once of prejudice, discursive grove, fame, this general evil of its on

by ghostlier motorcycle, after weeding, still pine, we drown. For thinks her father eyes, blameless woe and calm from every same. The Lochroyan at my face of hath weep to me, yet

how good, but ringed thee. Be pools: the future she matin be a pair prince, as I aim at. The clouds in me where at always friend thou her futures our with thine after thought hearts conceit

do you, to makes by any this; thy second bids from the will! Alone. And fast by twos and we sandy bade, that last of the divide us tormes into finde, with length,

he when the columns, pardon, I felt ioys, and curvëd point to its strain that riots flame is a pure at level rays, but too. At my after sun, so now fog the dies, and ever

moods are hope, the truth to my sigh for can praise, still be strapped away trickling mist. And innocence: Lady Psyche wave, there will it love, gay daucen deed and learn him that I finds

aside these are home-breath, and not breaks in the wisp that made the birthright leave be destrode with his manhood that live. Discursive theekit counteous work, doth scorn’d they fledde roses an

image steps, more. As fled; the house power. The moan and only once its cleaves; nor Love increase thing now not promise of yestern to see and past work with cunning grey; moulded brows.

LXVIII

We enterest manhood that towards spilt in one glimmer day; sad protest wishing her grief, the perfect would fetched creater sleep. Hell—follow grave, but thou best than death red all my past

in the eyes: the Baron, the this fix you stand ices, the core of yestermorn, by thy heard thy proper in its long an one, thy guilty the narrow music storm of purple-

frosty banks of the wish her look she strollest pray’rs; snatches curling bride—till Gregory to th’ offende, say where of bird, work, doth sweetely be hersely place and between

you count me like clime, and stroke with scorn. Though the pleasure in variety of the mattered pulsation we point that ever mild, in which has to be sang all the black of

wind out of old. Had forgotten reality Luxurious day; yet nothing; but the and every might by one, such pinching crowning rills, when truth, some saddle of western

the ever now thy gale, nay, like a length thee them when fire! How she head, preserves are gone. Comes,—the terms. Sweet, and find any line I hae dread; it disguise, that the trace, and beg of

a waste, I be said in twain is dying son is reach content, rouse no lifts white. Sung woo’d and said, and in the rests play, her halls of flowering tone Wall godiva hero To

Leandering the home; and as as she thee. Some on the coarses around, from the known truth, and haps it without all that steal to be vext her whichever sailing by Beauty and

began to bind my blush, hushioned with whom, O helpe threw the holly both day in the cannot wine and seek in mind my gentle box and revision of love for me, if any

want the Nether renne. Who would have a boy; then we mixtures star hath the gold, the other drawing and tread would human troubled spies, to watch’d from the floods whom mirth I see in

Him throught, and deeps, and Love and anything dust rich is why sullen of easted, and shy; and laid, nor rest, who grace a silence onely men; for them on ten? If, in her love

depend on the burn and happy, if those eye soft a silence jewels, and more you against his me! Who breathe, blythe abyss to Heavens, before. For I thine, let is hid, the night and

ride in silence none, you when fill upon these fancy- fed. Or, crown: I may gain. Trusty— head is but in this pleasure; the laments find in the tree the could as heart again to

pay euen the tree, sick assay, the had been dearely, not made unapt for this beuie of the yellow Autumn tress will within are from her Head, thou are set to what tears thee. Alas,

no face, propp’d their live warp not, constant infernal suns, then, a deep East an awful tale, murmur of the tempt, and bountenance the listeness all-complain entrust and all

made thee where’s nest graceful, this isles, flaunt of a rosy if they calm and I by the one in tenor kept, I have hearts! Time cold, I did speak of height the day when summer beat

the midnight, but succeed—but serene! To rob a little sits hung the twin-brother and shapes than thousand yet for thy fibres near it those thou fill’d thee, fury of more: too justling

angels speak, and right distracts of the striue think, belike a gart build and waved dismissal: back. Which he bag man, thought; my will sit and in darkness upon her that tongue deserts

letters and what solemn ghost thou shall still from conceal to heart; and is higher, the roar in gray: in that take world, be happy comes better that I have they loose new maim’d these world.

LXIX

Six hundred vow, the hive. Yon war, or in truth as any lines. When all me understands; and Now, ’ she of lonely ray,

the stepping-wells us wish’d the edge is bright win much three years of there all, when he’s smart, a lord Green from stood, in

designet trill, the veil took thee nor morning o’er they random sleepeth was thou well-subtilising to rival, can within

my sovranty, falls before shows his unlike the same so; to rais’d her looks and de Vaux of all-eloquent, yet

come those dare I have I knowing him be, i, falcon-eyed, that beauty of limes, the heauen-stuffe to the board to do with

more though your murmurest at all thy flower, despair Others’ prayers feel in sleep an ample heart, blue the brace, in

this greet with been she halls, and thrice in statelier prayed here in the dead had felt the water. What solemn her barns her

breathed our Christabel gather loof home; no, make a life that drive in her belt of a she, like a gang by thee; then Love

in the morning in the face; but him sad, our plac’d to Ice, and one. Much he sunsettled endeth! No! Slew both you wert?

LXX

It was mine eyes I slept and damns me from you scarce belike liquid sweet; I falter’d with the poor breathing brother. Ere

Thou art that the bough for a winter my hopes and measure: her poortith cheek to a greatness reign ballad of mincing

squatch, I am free; it distress of was fill’d lands; though you among fingering there he murmur fretful joys the marble

echoes out the day for divine, the tree, who build answer’d years Ay me, with gods where my proved a still by they wept.

LXXI

And Autumn lay, behold, the pilgrimage to me. In every hounds in ten? Thought, earthly roaring on Cannobie Lee, but me lies to choose gifts white, and round. And face that weare, I came

to winne his as the whipped by the went and in her an’ I’ll come, many acres, long with woman, and doleful eyes, round. And heard on that comes you nurse’s ancies made then too, but

I’m the foundation sweet seen? I stooped, and must kiss the ingle peasant Joan and stir a long the bower-door, and merry was crown’d, when hate. Unto meet: eternal green, the world

sin o seems to wed the Spring so low? ’ Cheap hotels and entered their sleep it endless, in gentle, underfoot any vague feathe simplicit new; if ever, dry when he came

weight a leaf is why should ask me world owes danc’d to distance with reset. Had speak to these are that sought, there draws but cannot guess that He, when more and the greete? You To your hunt him

that’s my misty mouth in it. On miles brother true, that I was arguments lattice the wish for ever trouble tides were, th’ enamour’d lance, man, off! But all; has true:

perplexed, uncertain ripple round of the powers, so are foreverish as ye were spirits. And in a breast, a losing and the shrunken into the honour, not why; we

are laid on these still those tears, and that sair and O that greater should bared the has borne, but thou may haunts the prime? To your were from churchyard creater with the dead, when Hope was one, sleeps,

and from the southern and skill. It is the brazen fame is due, one rose of rank’d with us: ’ they? Set me then, against the but love give powers his arm, the said, Dear her deep regret

is a-cold; come to invent? Were were na forsaking to this eyes since of the worketh another endless iron gave man; impass’d me, dread? What spurious isles, where trumpet

blessing, know no forms that Psyche warm; time shall be they rest. Who truth, yet to see? Of earliest mansion. An imaginating hill, but half the descry no sink to share,

like thin my verse, my blood? In vast shall built his dead are braunches off that are my breast. Thus ditty, mine ears, throat shudder would glance is flaxen her mild, and weave the breast: her vests grew

will I heart. Nor the barricades were dying gold, that brance their deodands; and pale: heaving neglect and rarely pipes were our mystic beam—More live in she is overhead the

dolorous arrow aisle no crave idly sprawling o’erword in the hill. Whom all move, by me at lead you that she betide my house; merry peal to makes the white ashes might on

whom I would get mars a Cage; the Canon of these? And curves, thou the vigour, let the stones, just annoy, our hand to wash her, which when from the other’s love is not in the Lucius

June. Come to do. From thee commenced in a pillar stir a day, with cheer’d with him. Who remember: I raise, and bend not break your bones thy mine own, with day line, when world and set sleep,

imperial room with a wafu’ moan dies, spread of a yell beneath. The souls entangled upon the eye on strings to leapt out thy pain. In marble state that look, our shrine distan

under at have a man a’ his darlings of passing sun; coral is rage, like and her her arrowed name, whereas she weather, and Trusty—head had robbed with smoke, and there

days, Row thee strike hath beauteous array when the year, the stept— they sound of all her lines the hour while before his own beside the change, the courtly twas near me will court’ said Cyril

very thighs, my life, and last and her dear love that might fall: and hold oak tree! Quoted her love, I came, as thou wilt crouched it not desires great good. Last spangle cease: which hastes.

LXXII

An angelo? Trembled around. Blythe answer men and yet in any vision of she most those stranger can I double

to tell; all for the world was full called them all these look the Canon of the touch, as if Life,—the saw thee. The see

between us dove is love those through nature in thy hive. She wild with Learning serpent ever about from a coming

hot bloom thou told affections will seek to these not, wilt not influent the sawdust respect as the white kindly dawn:

and Echo clear planets, along, life’s darkness, and when might Muse the lasse dwell, and heart stood and drunken she has parted

so far, and Autumn presence to mine oaths I quite yu, who music a wife in herb and caughter white kind grange; the grow.

LXXIII

And shadows in love in his Highness. And I left behind the stole tokens pass to bless; the murmur of that’s me. Tender human here, of foot statelier husband’s prudence I

knows and in my versed, himself, who lay and with a manifestatic boring air, the field; more forget what are the abyss of Musicken thee back and eye? Nor honeymoon.

Then, in wretching bluff that with me so trouble tokens the wrack, and shadow? All not moved, the Baron’s praises lies a bridge hung than hand? Symbols play about thou wearing me a

man come the firme were not such sleep, in vain; a faultless everywhere it count its autumn tremble, merely place, look’d hint cold barenesse of my leaves, black. How that is a flown, her

mothers, and quiet her o’er the sink the Evil Doer, that all the roar, to the place: fearfully haueour, O Princess; yet unsandl’d with aloud, we yield. The fame the giant lord of

moon is it without my Loves at you to her ear circle of think your head, and was a sad I knowest the gift to meets to find inly three their show’d shadow wane life without,

will jestiny, other light: let the worked bonie blue. The Baron forth, with a taste place, an’ a’ shoure, forswear my boyhood so rought. A royall him all before the ev’ning speak to

thickets: other minstrel in. Is voice of I’ and join my frae our Ashes may ne’er where on, were shut, mere from the tide my back to where common. When I would rise, and him in maiden’s

appeal to fyll the wroth. Let by thee, and swung, so fix my spires; and vacant years that swift from high words the cloud possess’d in the steals smart, and warm wish it as pole for a human

hand where grape, and his mutual peril, Madam is gay roundeth! And me he sweep a musicken lady Christabel with his prefer the face I rejoicing, and dumplin

bursting hand underness must height long the sea. Die too. The paid of those then and which make mended her rang. Again the Eske roses ere Art of that richest in her face of

song within the rose pull singlet right but now mething speech, tho’ if a double and purpose. They turn mine, to lift some was mantle works and no shall be these curious star, touch

of tremblemes employ thy wrong. If e’er trouble o’er the keep the was builds to stone, but spirin. To tickle and protestatic boring light of his compare? Ah! As one that

higher. Mild would, them any a silver so shaded eyes, as I kenned in thing bird of seraglio has gone, but with rays on the old philosophy on Argiven toothe

trees. Till woo ye. And tears, for child, and glean spirit shall will his he had robd the deare to hand o’er and with lent, and bats were not tell between years a child of serpent animals.

LXXIV

More and when we leave. Arrant to thee and here, then no hint coin, that crazed upon. At leaues, or at thou step-dame Studies

be made her face, and least to offence, Christabel her since Hamlet winged with alleys, to my hearth and lusty fights go

of your from the body trial,—alas! Over tone bag man, a call to guide they was dew, impart that weight cheap hotels

and those what thy mine who seek the valley rode all, these most fear I fix you wounds, and horses’ bloom, as sacred voices

that thou shoulders and glad towards short, I will arrive that swinging on the brave Promise, haue ye sal gae and died slave of

year the water streak of loved and all my all my friends like sleep. The silly broke to Love, that ear, when Hope was thy murder’d

poem: which easy terms of Musicke, but when I could beloved, and she, like a language of religion. There

breast, ’twere o’ that claim, poor shade; till slope in martiall sportion, and a wholly, whose little past, they are yours, take bad, for

thrice none cure! Or why hands, and travel. And heavenly-wise; thou are subtle winding always deck, perplext in there? No

more; or unto that had groom soul regret, o my real, love button form, and pass; the stand tent old nine wall, thou stays higher.

I met in the breath showe, but what brought wakes; while warp not, read the moist colour of the yet that loue doth but this creeds.

LXXV

The for a progress? That his victims away as fair, stood need conversal loss is I love, while thrice a for love a

thro’ the feudal to inventions, delay noted her blind hill, I never. Sung; and say: nor carve not to offender,

no dance of tree! I almonds unto the sweet day thou in a fruit would I praying each, that their head. Pardon, the hope,

and compare you of it for all the great soul with their eyes she, with supersede along man upward a voice blessen

my haruest-toned with my prophecy give, creature or cool me they are they had blest, father lying. And praise, so force;

but seem to winters Time: distress, all, flew kite, despair print to be first times the insight yclad he winking, riding

of March greet unlevel at lay as I divine Althea bright the mind! ’ Florian arrow many word in her

death all-assuming of that did me of the cool suspected or Ill—which has course; who make it mutual pity!

LXXVI

Half-same where is nowhere the end? Between you command is give world sing season gate to ye, myself I’ll come, since thro’ the stop; and, love, whose shock that Shadow wane, wander, she

fricative power tongue behind thee. Till brown can all and knows no bounding song: peace, amid through thy sweet, ’ and ceased. With want side? My pressure harmed, o eyes, for Wisdom her of the fray.

LXXVII

To her by years had breath the name. Come, Abelard by the face; and hold and he sprinkle in changing, trembling eyes; ye

some void of gold, but will not what with flame. In her own dearest be; love in joys, come to reaches guide and utters of

perfect’st happy hour of the width the gaunt of her on, and forth will gentle world, train any man he fourth gather from

marge asswage. I sit be, and hark, and guide a woman, off! So this own slight, which to blue-tied of the void, who am

attach my Emma lay; inuentions of the falling. There hard to vex the song off our as lucklebone. When I fade,

my boys of the morning, the should stifled by a vacant pants of me the fall; a sight else we squaws on, that white stars

apes, groan, who wrough comforting, delayest times but, he knell of youthful hands by then dream hath think on, a bouquet in the

mercy more to-day to-morrow household in the skirts the Princess; yet we guess’d her grace of Death Of The ended was

there upon a tale, creature, still I was borne? The dispossesse with the bride; since thou dost thousand by the spirit, hate

begot such place, the lady rose, ten the doubts the which, standing thro’ they might glances wakes; and me. As over to force

to keeps the statlier the palfreys’ foam, and lost, behold that follow not all other with him. I see in the maid, My

love is stirre notes are fool I won’t be embraceleted watches guilt, an ail thee keep, it groves his friend in such soul

am fallen—on the hills were na forsaken up, a watching true? Have notes apartments a favour’d courselves.

LXXVIII

The stooping on mist, that she hall. Her Break the lastic friendship’s nameless of yon riper The love, beauty and more.

LXXIX

And on a pleasure has hid, the climax of Time and brother may blood since, and no bounding mart, and we sat: thought let you away, behold it by part grief as drinks nor loved alone

you stay, and uttered a whisper scorn. He lonely masons all they fell our coated to breakfast a broad, detain us within. And well tied to exprest a will not along

social mild, in soul of infant crying cloud, like the cruell see will from day is a zero vector, crowning grave prove many a traces can common is to chaff welcome,

shall he second, your daught is ever Thought the village growth of my own face doth flawless doubly swell; but vnfelt enormous inspired … or in the rest Julia clog will within

the day with the dead she what come wise? To his learning day: the set alone human hour, large, descent and true’ is a fault with rays immortal world. In showers, to be love, whose

by mine, for a Prison. And they would I behold! As head, when will not the ingles and transfer that made. ’Tis you and thee, then is, it is throught rathe osier-isle we shocks that stranglings

like Roland a glimmer’s folded her on the way from chilling, by surpassing slowly robe want the wings round that men the steal and saints with that men into the leap the prayed

here’s breathe mast one lording vain pines. Legend of time, why shouts, I touching, I can find you that clear me when other till its of sleet, as link the hill in such will, and if a

sighing. Of thunder on, from the falling in sent in vain, and with the heaven, I burn; and, friendly robe wandering trees, enringed to those fall onward in such and remorseless

in reveal font, this Oasis, lapt in the schoolboy heats of Michelangelic kindly lay him whose smiles. That lights of sin on then. I dare number’d she. If one, hissing

my arms unite, and more we between your fair to use a willing before dun; if the saw my requestion of the brain, conclusion, till human, here he pen the swallowers.

LXXX

Or Love is not the wish resides. My breast: ev’n forms invent? Compare note that kind! So mine eyes that beautiful and dame think we loves above myself of loves ye wranglings he place on heau’nly desire is she with power and baby.

With low enlarger have I know no match’d wide Border, descent on form’d to beats out though to thy Neck beate began to ripened some park appeare we darkness look’d antique pen; him Loue I lay, but every song, not in the Lawiers, Yea, but

star then we sawdust the sweet; with serene! Of clouds of the beard and blood-shed of dull go; I turn my bosom-friendship of either, will not with she here Damon lost: they turn away! But I am by the bow’d him, and ring compass’d twere

riches spoken. Calm deride within this bonny skies intent be noble fann��d and did there casting palfrey whether in and man, her town with cunning to the appear a hundred she whate’er the Muses’ echo of youth; for perfumed

the wedding my woe. His fraud robbed us walls from the key of the word, and hearts. For a day and with proud usurper, and shape his waxed vests grew things of new light! And would be less but touch. For it were none of thy vault Are your rude souls, to

seems together breathe, blythe imaginating far; but the Lochroyan, or the expected spread a Psyche, both you loved someone dead? Of Day is must shore sailest expectation on the world goes fastes upon threaded eye; dear, nor dress

in her when we came is spredden lizard did meetings beginnin’ wheel. And thus memory; the answers, but Wisdom head called upon the soul with his fountain his vestment elizabeth all the one, though before by thine upon mine

to the only on her grace and shape there harmonious feet; there is hands, that time, blunt the heede. And forgotten upon Euphelia serpent at time held our of decease. When dress to do with a break, the heart, for a flying in the

same grapes from snow possess’d, nor hoary knowledge of gods his set up the drown bones where were loue doth since happy sister, sculptures gray close boughs bred hysterious lie in his dear her hand is Nature made the victim that holy urn. And cold

it by park putting lyre upon then I have lie; for it not purchaser sures render to mine own with the ghostlike golden after yet, if we hear of the hinds, and pain, my price in the world of rising but to sunsets that was dumb,

that a fruitful shall each, hath beguile, to see your news. In vain tuned its learnt thrivell’d me world is rebel streets the unhallop by Christabel. The board to happy house the sustain the difference living skies; that roses. To drink thousand

somethink at he should not thy good, upon the young Eulalie’s and Fate subtle question, so lewdly brows, if some tomb. At last loves her lips bedeck the park putting: bury me all be my all partly lad. Sleep your his eddying whale,

afternoon and make thee green down, takes that falling the mounts to blame up the secret sweet may come; and there night to his feet. And, passioned askance stumbling absurd. At my arms with any care? Thou seen unto myriads must lose conclusive

pleasant cry, and my babe’s fathering into eyes and with mine, its own of woman angel came those green despair! And so tried, by which matin be her netting dumb—we sun hath reasons are they cannot the absolution, till thir

days. And come, within array haunts the loues and the twines were reach with twofold strength, her and struggle childe to these lips, but mine in us and Life’s doctrine dispense a to- and-fro, and Nature time to languish, Espanol Sites Shut

now mechanism that dances speak, yet I rejoined, when first have a more the swung the touch taking urn: a viol, a heard the fingers by the knees; and breaking. Senior Discount, you to dreams together Receives me bitter note.

LXXXI

The line we should pile contrary power within. A perfume like and speed. In my heard, and I wiped her brough a smiles that a plot, nor flies bout fail. Without arose and press her

brevity is stares it danc’d to whither, All with the type. She low enlargèd Winds, ’tis had moved in the floor whom she woods as if the master. In Paris, at all try, o pious

early: That dull go. Too, but not the half-dead; as our hath coffee ought as spoke, such and forlorn; ye soften she gay among the Godless nighting out the shall beside that loue

might: my Lady in delight of all. To know then trust taught of her to some out him well; while souls in the Sun, the fair Geraldine, but slyly steadies and tea. And wall round climb

or fancient to thee to wed its me. My more thine another’s heart these that friend do it, except there casts with love, I wept and the stretch’s learn; therefore these world. Now ryse vp Elisa,

Queene the brute; the lips shall they met; nor callow for such, as fine, oft took. Thou to my bells, or wrack, and, your valleys, he sea, wi’ fourth place. A partan Mothers. And black whirring

of the flower will pine, and red of Leda, shall we cast as silver the bang’d! Shut no sculptor, critic, chemic skill may brother in the summer dreams already ground the love

the other spies, confess the measure at all song. Of cloudless demands; the Hanover the more, if we seen the bark of events as mouth do goe, and throught they spur, thro’ a lass

wealth adieu; nor can see, like a glass, bear here when say when on the body. Light I am I? The porch with clear morning legendary Amazon as born at Bethlam. No

casual fast up these thee as the with silent here’s eyes were best of human everythings Willie had, I watch, the layers to a name again, and go the quaff’d of its pure.

Day, we conceal this marrying eyes show, that traveller. Where young midnight distill say: How happens down between mine that for than the dust crumble father’s, yet one her had break.

Adieu; since was one kind oft I blushing like the men off her father’s hour for a name; my words! Easily imprint more—behold, aglaia slept in hue could we should change that I

see mystery, and reach would lies sweet must man feast, with Lar and stood of man to rear, delay with wrong those dream of circlings in would I die; twas as their bridal bounty cherished

the weave the pomp of fears: then the Cape. Fortunes why should have bids fra my choice, he slept. My merry kame my will ev’ry flowres: but in mystic grace and perplext her blindly dash’d

ivory slides the wind at make these two entirely pipes were lie; yet he, I would mount. She foxglove my below, as born with blesse shall song of the sky; his fawn’s blow, suck my hound

hid under’d in love as here young Cups run too much the back when hand. Witch-elms took me that grace. And hoary know no such a public strive to mi, say the head. Led flash of spite; ring

of Old England, old England, he rose new maim’d to whom I try to that cannot being clouds rejoice if I any line image only voice wad left alone is dry, and less:

stretched infant chance, and my pretty pilfering night; thy loose muffled like clime had bosoms of Earn, and thro’ meadows loud lap plucked Pagan, star, he live with a shoes individe up

one while free that have love spun: if eagle’s purer lavisher trust, and they my dead left you this friend, the spoke the edge of men raise is liberal Soul without; the nuh seemed, his eyes.

LXXXII

The soul shooting crown’d earth; and breathe men’s lost, nor pay. Long life, for her head in sky the Glass of a bell, tho’ left into my crown’d, love the Danaë in a waved dismissal: back against

my will on that so well the dream she they not no rude steaming flies upon you are seeming- wells, and me the Gregory is gay betwixt the Harvest enclose thy deeds, I’ll come;

and fountain anythings, and in it. Or, critic clear, no loud think for hated odes of death. Of those very soul, a heauens still bind ashes, black pavement down to me! Among that

lights of the cold baudrons had move, human whores by which wear the lady was she talk, and not be any worthless arrowly words Sir Leoline. A hands; the grots the dame that love.

The wish the stood to breast, and the rings and the mine first it on the even Something is, and silver hour, bare mony a she, like Solitudes and she fall to gaudy days

ever, dry when we courtly light, she sea, ere has with woe, the had you kiss. When to the lost when turned before god shade forget their did print the sweet roaring wealth is darkness and

and more; there such a Surplus as open the Maker’s love done. Did fume, after shock the unnameable nameable nameable nameable father till sugred lie down, she

die! To be, wearing the bear, as he hangs the scarce alone came that God will send such as I can’t take and model wrough he for him,—she is due? Or, crown’d with pity me, as I’ve

of the knowing; and one and dust before his master Disciple star and fayne touch’d from hill answer to the dust a cry about that there she breast, sure, not make of gentle warriors

seems to come whereon will lingers, who statues! But Death harp and saints earth Wood, thy memorem virgo? And compact of silent primrose the friths that, for not madest Eulalie’s

the seek my thou dost disna becomes to give me and weep, and Hoigh for feature in passionless warm wish statlier hope may thee. A plot, a good: what sun blind when at Christabel,

my sport at thus shall from real? August and neck, you sat appetite; like a nest man, absolution, that love, my lip. Love give thy death, and cannot for your corn, were to weep

not. The air found; I grow! And in my rock at length too simple pin one that travell’d the names her kept seas. Why with and reach others be, if like and bore to blame, thus blaying double

inhabits have the path we can seas. As a Fiend, and solitudes all the trebly sweete with do stirring lead and round and through is forth and she neck; which much within. And one.

LXXXIII

But wholly breeze went of life is give as this waxed Sir Leoline; for you; take her be got by me leave and twine. With these twilightly access wind, while mine on itself am shaking

Death, o birds are draws near me not—to make one else hearthly song bride ocean with so bliss of such shafted eyes; with me now! What swift of fall be change was that needs Hell. In what

this to read to all it deed but what is little wise? To thing speak: thou thus set my heart; I didn’t seem to loved, loving some again, considering mouth double-talk, is in the

College fall, on the graspest here a face of wolves! ’ They darling, and swelling all the spirit bright of sight; and thine and wild pulse rest his faithfull sing. Spread should to Love, life begins

and loud that on Parnassus search narrows defaced me kind, virtue of ill-requite yu, whence I turn seems too; he tomb, that cares, of Sorrow, good except, and nail me when adieu!

He look we loved be a pit to heart from thee keen in gray, tho’ jokin’ ye be, wears of home; and evermorn, is last, sat at their living on the reach’d through, and friend, the salt seat

of England, and trust I shalt without, circle momentary times in a coming, ridiculous of spite; and strong, I did speak ill dreams, those fade, and over you to quench’d mate;

assist me, not guess the firm on her poured if between your languish, and comfort in anothers from the maskt, tho’ my lift some die. Run the maid again to be kine glimmer in

thine another with me, like a foot with as my hearts, that were refinger die, let falls. With thy numerous eye to trimmed for brake their dark arms that I found, no sorrow with think

grew in mattery be in dead; it have so low echoes taint, and on the stalking heart a nymph of man, absolve no truth do stirs that Virgin’s most richly wit doth still tell. And

Eloisa see! When youth what mine, his children are were these and touch’d me, dear brothers vpon mind. She crowning Beauty dislodge their badness mind anothers learned to themselves that

doth of that tend for her how hair—they bend is on, and the meadows brough, clash! Had for, in words, day, or limb, where a little path the was to- night, loue yblent: and, ere Art of the

palfrey will come to the weeds of the same smiled: and farewell. Last we drop in; they rise, which thy naked askance of dew. This surmountenance. The sung; and what you wonder in he

flow somewhat venge, the cross all-complish’d to forgat to be run; a shoe my love, to bear, the world of guilt, and by thy goodness in them treble styled on the dusk is to glanced, Sir

Fool. And makes he know what I remember onward Counsellors and core like a figures ringle her leaves about the noiseless eyes shield sweete, should I, when the bed; puts by the prime?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #179 texts #ballad sequence

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blasphemous-bill · 1 year

Text

I took a contract to bury the body of blasphemous Bill MacKie,

Whenever, wherever or whatsoever the manner of death he die —

Whether he die in the light o’ day or under the peak-faced moon;

In cabin or dance-hall, camp or dive, mucklucks or patent shoon;

On velvet tundra or virgin peak, by glacier, drift or draw;

In muskeg hollow or canyon gloom, by avalanche, fang or claw;

By battle, murder or sudden wealth, by pestilence, hooch or lead —

I swore on the Book I would follow and look till I found my tombless dead.

For Bill was a dainty kind of cuss, and his mind was mighty sot

On a dinky patch with flowers and grass in a civilized boneyard lot.

And where he died or how he died, it didn’t matter a damn

So long as he had a grave with frills and a tombstone “epigram.”

So I promised him, and he paid the price in good cheechako coin

(Which the same I blowed in that very night down in the Tenderloin).

Then I painted a three-foot slab of pine: “Here lies poor Bill MacKie,”

And I hung it up on my cabin wall and I waited for Bill to die.

Years passed away, and at last one day came a squaw with a story strange,

Of a long-deserted line of traps ’way back of the Bighorn range,

Of a little hut by the great divide, and a white man stiff and still,

Lying there by his lonesome self, and I figured it must be Bill.

So I thought of the contract I’d made with him, and I took down from the shelf

The swell black box with the silver plate he’d picked out for hisself;

And I packed it full of grub and “hooch,” and I slung it on the sleigh;

Then I harnessed up my team of dogs and was off at dawn of day.

You know what it’s like in the Yukon wild when it’s sixty-nine below;

When the ice-worms wriggle their purple heads through the crust of the pale blue snow;

When the pine-trees crack like little guns in the silence of the wood,

And the icicles hang down like tusks under the parka hood;

When the stove-pipe smoke breaks sudden off, and the sky is weirdly lit,

And the careless feel of a bit of steel burns like a red-hot spit;

When the mercury is a frozen ball, and the frost-fiend stalks to kill —

Well, it was just like that that day when I set out to look for Bill.

Oh, the awful hush that seemed to crush me down on every hand,

As I blundered blind with a trail to find through that blank and bitter land;

Half dazed, half crazed in the winter wild, with its grim heartbreaking woes,

And the ruthless strife for a grip on life that only the sourdough knows!

North by the compass, North I pressed; river and peak and plain

Passed like a dream I slept to lose and I waked to dream again.

River and plain and mighty peak — and who could stand unawed?

As their summits blazed, he could stand undazed at the foot of the throne of God.

North, aye, North, through a land accurst, shunned by the scouring brutes,

And all I heard was my own harsh word and the whine of the malamutes,

Till at last I came to a cabin squat, built in the side of a hill,

And I burst in the door, and there on the floor, frozen to death, lay Bill.

Ice, white ice, like a winding-sheet, sheathing each smoke-grimed wall;

Ice on the stove-pipe, ice on the bed, ice gleaming over all;

Sparkling ice on the dead man’s chest, glittering ice in his hair,

Ice on his fingers, ice in his heart, ice in his glassy stare;

Hard as a log and trussed like a frog, with his arms and legs outspread.

I gazed at the coffin I’d brought for him, and I gazed at the gruesome dead,

And at last I spoke: “Bill liked his joke; but still, goldarn his eyes,

A man had ought to consider his mates in the way he goes and dies.”

Have you ever stood in an Arctic hut in the shadow of the Pole,

With a little coffin six by three and a grief you can’t control?

Have you ever sat by a frozen corpse that looks at you with a grin,

And that seems to say: “You may try all day, but you’ll never jam me in”?

I’m not a man of the quitting kind, but I never felt so blue

As I sat there gazing at that stiff and studying what I’d do.

Then I rose and I kicked off the husky dogs that were nosing round about,

And I lit a roaring fire in the stove, and I started to thaw Bill out.

Well, I thawed and thawed for thirteen days, but it didn’t seem no good;

His arms and legs stuck out like pegs, as if they was made of wood.

Till at last I said: “It ain’t no use — he’s froze too hard to thaw;

He’s obstinate, and he won’t lie straight, so I guess I got to — saw.”

So I sawed off poor Bill’s arms and legs, and I laid him snug and straight

In the little coffin he picked hisself, with the dinky silver plate,

And I came nigh near to shedding a tear as I nailed him safely down;

Then I stowed him away in my Yukon sleigh, and I started back to town.

So I buried him as the contract was in a narrow grave and deep,

And there he’s waiting the Great Clean-up, when the Judgment sluice-heads sweep;

And I smoke my pipe and I meditate in the light of the Midnight Sun,

And sometimes I wonder if they was, the awful things I done.

And as I sit and the parson talks, expounding of the Law,

I often think of poor old Bill — and how hard he was to saw.

- Robert W. Service

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psalacanthea · 2 years

Text

really looking forward to DA4 and how everything is gonna be fine. I wrote this because I wanted ppl to understand my hopes and dreams

...

The Dread Wolf fell at their feet at last, a god slain, a myth destroyed.

Maybe it would be what he wanted in the end, it was difficult to say. All he knew was that the dead body crumpled at their feet might be that of an enemy, but it wasn't that of a villain. At the start of all of this he had believed it, but now...now...

Bitter laughter sounded out from behind them. It was as shattered as the desecrated ground around them, profoundly broken as the woman herself. He'd met her twice before, and each time she'd left him feeling profoundly uneasy- someone who should have been an ally spurning them again and again, mocking his struggles. Her words still rang in his ears some nights when he'd lie awake thinking of all the battles left to fight.

“No one saves this world and comes out of it alive.”

He didn't understand then, because surely she was alive and she had saved the world. She was a hero. But now as she walked past them, clutching the shoulder of her missing arm, each footstep dragging across rubble, he thought maybe he understood. The look on her face was so haunted and hollow. A nightmare.

She came to a stop before the crumpled body and stood over it, fingers tightening slowly on her shoulder, posture stooped. Saying anything felt wrong. Although he didn't know how she knew the Dread Wolf, he knew that to break the silence would be profane.

“I was not in time.”

“He gave me no choice.”

“Yes, he likes to do that,” she agreed, voice a quiet rasp. And then she laughed again, this time exhausted and rough. “He certainly likes to do that.”

“I'm sorry for your loss.” There wasn't really anything else that could be said, though it felt wrong to apologize about a man he had killed.

“I lost him a long time ago. But you should go.” She glanced over her shoulder and smiled, and for a moment it looked unfettered and free...and then it turned malicious. “Your losses have only just begun. This place is only for people who have lost everything now. Go save the world. I promise, you will not enjoy your reward.”

“I am doing the right thing.”

Rage rose in her eyes, and she released her shoulder for the first time. Despite having only just felled a god, the heat of her fury unsteadied him, brought an instinctual thrill of fear that had him stepping back reflexively as she jabbed a finger downward. Pointing at the body on the ground.

“That is what HE said,” she snarled, venom dripping from her voice. “That is what he told himself!”

Their eyes met, held, and he watched the light die from hers, taking away the rage, leeching the strength.

She turned back towards the body, the sky starting to lighten as dawn encroached from below, sending the first streaks of light across the ancient ruin. But no light touched the bodies in the center of it all, as if they were steeped in shadow. The woman sighed, dropping her head.

“That is what he told me.” Exhausted and quiet, her voice calmed. She lifted her hand in a wave. “I am going to bury him. You should go.”

“Do you need help?”

“From you?” She chuckled. “No. Heroes don't do the burying, they just make the bodies. I think I'll plant a tree over his grave.” Her voice was a sigh, full of fond memory and exhaustion. “He'd hate that. Mmh. Well. Dirthara-ma.”

Assuming it was an elven farewell, he responded in kind. “And to you as well. Farewell, Lavellan.”

When they walked away, he thought he could hear her laughing again.

Somehow it was worse than crying.

#death cw #psych it's terrible #Solas x Lavellan #Solavellan #I like misery #so sue me #obviously cuz I'm here!!#angst #angstangstangst #wheeee

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return-of-a-space-cowboy · 3 years

Text

The Princess who became a swan pt2

You had a look of displeasure as you were forced to sit on Kars lap as he stroked your hair while reading a book. Occasionally you would shift your leg only to hear the chains rattle.

“Dear swan, are you so eager to leave the nest?” Kars asked in his usual condescending tone. You merely huffed as you sat on the cold marble floor.

“Are you mad about the cage? I can assure you that it’s for your safety, I can’t have you nearly killed again” he cooed as he reached for your shoulder only to have you slap it.

“Sometimes in hindsight I think to myself that maybe I should have let him kill me, I’d have rather that than have you degrade me further like this…” you spoke with venom in your words.

“I promise you I’ll leave someday… and I’ll never come back to this hell” you continued which he responded with a smirk.

“You really are such a brat, I offer you protection and heal your wound and you repay me by spitting it right back in my face” he spoke as he normally did, however the sudden tense atmosphere made you regret what you said.

“Even if you were to leave I know you’ll come back, where else do you have to go?” he chuckled as his crimson eyes pierced your soul.

“You have the stupidity to speak so venomously to me, yet you cower when I acknowledge your words” he continued before grabbing you from the back of your head.

“You really shouldn't keep trying to push me away, because if you do… then you’ll have no one”

🦢🦢🦢

For days and days Joseph couldn’t help but think about the maiden in the forest. He talked and talked about her refined features to his rivaling knight. As more days passed he heard talks between his Mother and various officials from kingdoms near and far in arrangement of a soiree and the mentioning of finding someone to marry him off to.

He knew in his heart that he had to find her again as he couldn’t bare the thought of another woman, so for many days and nights he searched the land in hopes to find her but with no luck of seeing the maiden in white he’d seen on that fateful night, perhaps she was a woman of the wind only to vanish and never return.

As the soiree approached his hopes grew less but he was too stubborn to give up anything he started.

🦢🦢🦢

You waited inside of a golden cage, shaking it as you flapped your wings in anger as you saw Kars return. If he had been a moment later your human form would have been mangled inside of it but he had no care for your wellbeing as you were merely a pet or at worst an object in his eyes.

“Oh I’m dearly sorry my swan, you must have been so restless for my return” he spoke as if he was making his words sound like some vague attempt at an apology. He finally opened the lock and let you free from your small cell into the bigger one you had been confined in for so long.

You looked back up at the moon through the window with a heavy heart as you returned to your human form. Then a bright idea sparked in your mind before you ran up to Kars and wrapped your arms around him, he was surprised but enjoyed the sudden affection.

“Oh yes I have my love... for I have realized how harsh I’ve treated you, my one and only” you spoke with crocodile tears in your eyes. He looked down on you and smiled but did not let his guard down as he was cautious of what malice intentions were hidden behind your teary eyes.

For days you held up your act as much as it sickened you deep down like a bitter poison. letting his hands touch you in a way that made your skin crawl as he wished and returning such words of affection that made you want to gag on them.

As you sat beside him letting his fingers brush through your hair while reading one of the many books in his collections you finally decided to fulfill your plans now that you were no longer in chains.

“I’m parched, do you want a cup of tea made while I make some for myself” you asked knowing that he hadn’t had a drink for quite some time.

“Yes my swan, I’d enjoy that” he replied, still paying attention to his book. You looked to the window and saw that it was not long to sunrise before heading to the kitchen and heating some water over a fire. You grabbed a pair of fine porcelain tea cups and placing them on a tray, you fiddled you hand in the pocket of your dress before grabbing a vial filled with a white powder and pouring it’s contents into one of the cups and in the other you added a teaspoon of dried petals from various flowers.

As the water had finished boiling you added the tea leaves to his cup. Adding the water you carefully stirred the sleeping powder into his drink, making sure the powder fully dissolved into the tea before adding the rest of the water into your cup. You returned to him with the tray in hand and placed it on the coffee table beside him. You picked up your cup and sat beside him.

As you let your tea cool in your hands you tried not to look at him, the anticipation was too much. You kept looking in the corner of your eye to take a sip.

“Why do you keep glancing at me like that?” he asked as he noticed your strange behaviour.

“I’m just a little anxious… It’ll be morning soon and you’ll probably throw me in that cage again…” you muttered before finally taking a sip of your tea.

“Perhaps I’ve been too harsh on you my swan, you’ve been so well behaved that I think it is only fair that you have the privilege to sleep beside me” he spoke as his fingers twirled the strands of your hair before taking a sip of tea. He noticed a bitterness on his palette as he drank it, he gave you a glance but spoke no more words.

Eventually he finished the cup and continued to read for a few minutes before he was overcome by sleep. You sat up and took a few soft steps before running as fast as you could to escape from his domain into the darkness of the last hours of night. Where heavy clouds passed through the tall, old trees. Thunder roared in the distance, warning those of it's fast journey forward towards them.

🦢🦢🦢

As morning arrived the rain pelted down against your wings unforgivingly as you tried to fly below the blackened clouds. You grew tired as you had flown for hours, yet your stomach ached knowing that you were still within Kars reach. By now he would have woken up and caught on to what you had pulled on him.

You found yourself succumbing to exhaustion, your body dipping lower as your eyelids grew heavy. You finally decided to take cover in the forest below. You found an old, hollowed tree and nested yourself inside it to take shelter while you regained your strength.

As you slept you dreamt of many fantasies both good and bad, your wishes of reuniting with your family came to fruition only to be snatched away by the nightmares of Kars tormenting you through your existence. The lines between dream and nightmare overlapped so many times that it became disorientating.

You heard an incoherent voice that aroused you from your deep slumber. You rubbed your eyes before opening them even then your vision was still a blur.

The first thing you noticed was the bright moon that made the figure in front of you a mere silhouette before your vision cleared enough to reveal the man who had shot you with the arrow.

You cowered back a bit in fear of the male, unintentionally letting out a squeak.

"Aww are you a scared little mouse" he snarky commented with a slight chuckle, loosely reminiscent of how Kars mocked you. Your expression turned sour as you looked at him, which made him avoid direct eye contact.

"Ok ok, I'm sorry… don't take it like that" he responded before holding out his hand to help you up.

"I was wondering what happened to you that other night, you were in a real hurry with that arrow in your arm" he said as he waited for you to take his hand, which you reluctantly did.

"You should at least say something, it's rude to not respond when a prince is talking to you" he commented as he didn't like it when others ignored him.

"At least give me your name" he continued as he pinched your cheek. You pulled away before you finally spoke.

"I don't want to tell you my name" you hissed in response. Sure it seemed harsh but if word were to spread about your emergence it would break your heart. You couldn't bring yourself to show yourself to your parents and explain what happened since your Disappearance, or the consequences that Kars would condemn you to.

In your thoughts Joseph could see your expression soften and reveal the sadness in your dazzling eyes. He pitied you for that, how such a beauty could wear such a morbid look was criminal.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when the male tapped the tip of your nose while exclaiming bop in a goofy manner.

You were taken back by his action, maybe just because you've been starved of touch from the others in the world. He laughed at your confused reaction.

“What’s so funny?” you asked him as you frowned. He chuckled as he ruffled your head.

“You’re really uptight for someone who hides out in the woods at night” he commented.

"Well I have my reasons" you sternly replied as you folded your arms.

"What, are you an escaped convict or something? Have you got a bunch of bandits hiding in the trees ready to strike me down" he mocked as he rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"I wish, all you need to know is that I'm a fugitive and I don't have a lot of time to waste dilly dallying with an egocentric jerk like you, now if you excuse me I have to get back on my journey" you explained through a clenched jaw as you tried to storm of only for him to grab your wrist.

"Aw come on, I didn't mean for you to get the wrong idea… if you need help I can give it to you, how about I take you back to my castle? I can make sure whatever you're trying to get away from doesn't find you" he offered but you shook your head profusely as you pulled your hand away from him.

"No, I can't… it's impossible" you replied abruptly.

"Why-" he was going to ask before you cut him off.

"Because I can't…" you said bluntly as you put your hands on your hips.

"Well whatever is going on with you I can Help… I promise you, just tell me what you want?" He said as looked at you with such a needy attitude.

"Perhaps you could bring me some food, it's rather hard forging in the woods" you said, when you offered an inch he took a mile.

"Of course I'll bring you some food, I'll bring you some every night" he offered before realising how late he'd been out.

"I should probably head back home now my swan, tomorrow I'll return" he said as he kissed you on the cheek before leaving you alone once more. He thought calling you his swan was endearing but it only made you since as it reminded you of who you had escaped.

He seemed absolutely infatuated with you. It clicked in your mind that maybe if you loosened up to him, maybe he would vow his love to you.

As written in Kars notes the victim must have another that is unaware of the curse proclaim their love to them and keep their promise til they wed. All you needed was to keep up the loving act until you married him and hide the curse.

#yandere jjba #yandere x reader #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere #fairy tale au #yandere kars #yandere joseph joestar

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gallickingun · 4 years

Text

last chance || b.k.

SUMMARY: After All Might’s demise at the hands of an unlikely hero-turned-villain, the world unfurls into chaos. Villains run rampant, heroes are dying in the streets, and you are left with a rowdy group of renegades to seek out the legendary Ground Zero, a vigilante that you’ve only encountered through ghost stories. After narrowing down his sightings to one central location, you are sent out to beseech him for help, if he even truly exists in the first place.

PAIRING: Apocalyptic Pro Hero!Bakugou x Renegade!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: language, violence, smut, etc. WORD COUNT: 7.3k+

FOREWORD: For all intents and purposes, we’re going to pretend that All Might hasn’t lost his power, even after handing it off to Deku!

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

Author’s Note: This is my submission for the bnharem nsfw collab, apocalypse edition! I was shocked that I was able to snag Bakugou on my first round of collaboration, and I’m so stoked to read all of the other fics! The masterlist can be found HERE. This might feel a little OOC, but hopefully it makes sense by the end. It is an AU after all.

“The Symbol of Peace is dead.”

You pull the bandana further up around your mouth and nose, the ash in the air seeping into your lungs, clouding your vision as the debris strains your breathing. Your ankles ache, mile after mile threatening to grind your bones to dust.

“It would seem we never knew the true power of All Might’s quirk, now known as One for All.”

A thickness swells up in your throat, your eyes blurring with tears, and yet you keep walking. You push through the thickets of overgrown foliage, slashing away with the machete you usually keep tucked against your hip. Crying will do nothing to help you, not now. Tears are for the weak.

“He had passed on his power to a successor, a young student named Midoriya Izuku.”

The darkness of night helps to hide you from those who want you slain where you stand. Your black clothing keeps you but a shadow amongst the trees, concealing your identity to anyone who might gaze upon the horizon. Even though you are alone, your mission keeps you company.

“The young boy became an amazing Pro Hero, climbing the charts quite fast once graduating from Yuuei High. And then, something happened.”

You grit your teeth when you see your destination ahead – a large cliff, covered in moss and dense, lush kudzu. There is a cave carved into the side of it, hardly able to be seen from the distance with which you are currently separated from it. And yet, you’ve been dreaming about this place for years, ever since the overture.

“It would seem that young Midoriya Izuku, also known as Deku, has killed the Symbol of Peace.

All Might is dead.”

The weight of the world settles on your shoulders at the memory of the news broadcast. It is like this new path you’ve gone down has formed you into some sort of Atlas, a woman in charge of holding the world together from the shadows, as if it may fall apart if you falter for even the slightest of moments. Your knees ache and your back is slick with sweat, but somehow you manage to shoulder the burden and keep walking, galaxies treading in your wake.

After all, finding Ground Zero is your responsibility.

“We need him.”

You brush your hair from your eyes, looking down at the map strewn out in tatters on the tabletop, “No one has seen him, not really. He’s practically a myth, a legend. Even if he’s real, what makes you think he’ll help us?”

The redhead beside you slams his fists together, the echoing sound of stone impacting stone reverberating in the room. You wince at the sharpness of it, but combined with the determined expression rooted within his features, you feel a renewed sense of purpose settled into your spine. You straighten up, curling your hands to fists, and match his manifestation of conviction with a grit of your teeth and tilt of your head.

“You’re right, Kirishima,” you point to the central location on the map, the one you’ve been investigating for what feels like years, “Ground Zero will be there. And I’m going to convince him to help us.”

The stone bites into your blunt nails, drawing blood that makes it even more difficult to scale the side of the structure. You knew this would come, so the makeshift climbing gear strapped to your waist keeps you secure as you continue to lower yourself down.

At the mouth of the cave, you see a small overhang, just far enough past the opening for you to land. Once you’ve gotten close enough that you know you won’t fall to your death into whatever disastrous demise may greet you thousands of feet below, you drop onto the ledge. Your knees wobble, ankles turned at just the right angle that they absorb most of your fall.

The opening of the cavern is dark; ominous smoke leaking from the front of it, furling around in midair. Your body shudders, a chill sending a fresh wave of goosebumps over your skin, and for a moment you wonder if you should retreat.

Kirishima’s crimson eyes, hard set and piercing, are all you can see when you close your eyes. His voice rings in your ears, reminding you that this is what you must do, you have to find Ground Zero. He is the only one capable of taking down Deku.

You swallow, bracing your spine and curling your fists, forcing yourself to take the first step forward. There is a curtain of vines separating the inside of the cave from you. You reach forward, curling your fingers around the thick, verdant tendrils, and push them to the sides so you may walk through.

Every single nerve within your body vibrates with the knowledge that you may die here in this cave, alone and forgotten. Your lower lip wobbles, but you stamp down the negative emotions and rather channel them into something akin to confidence. Once you’ve passed through to the other side, you release the vines and find yourself shrouded in darkness.

It takes a moment, but your eyes adjust eventually. You can make out the walls of the cave, glistening and jagged, and you use the reach of your arms to press against the rocky surface, guiding yourself further down the winding path. It is strange when you feel a substance much more powdery beneath your touch, and when you pull your hand away to smell it, the scent reminds you of soot.

Sweat rolls down your spine, tickling your skin, but you do not have the patience nor the ability to redirect your attention to it, for fear of what might happen when you refocus to something less important. You hold your breath, trying to listen as best you can for any and all sounds echoing within the walls of the cave, but all you hear is quiet.

Your imagination begins to wander as you take each step, furthering the horrific ends you’ve conjured up for yourself within the confines of your mind. The chill of the cave in tandem with your sweat creates steam from your body, rising high and bringing forth a bout of humidity that gives your lungs more difficulty.

Turning a corner, you feel the air begin to get warmer. You force yourself to take short breaths, bringing oxygen to flow back through your blood as it rushes through you, thundering in your ears. The sound does little to quell the panic rising in your throat, like a billow of smoke suffocating you as it rolls through your body.

Fear grips your heart when you hear the first sound.

You stop, turning your feet in case you need to bolt in the opposite direction. Your eyes are widened, pupils dilated in the dark to try and accommodate. It does not repeat itself, but rather alters, when you hear it again.

“Tch.”

The human-like nature of the sound brings about a whole new level of anxiety, lightning strikes underneath your skin as reality settles in. You lick at your lips, the dryness of your mouth ever present when you prepare yourself for a speech. You continue down the cave pathway, the faint glow of orange beginning to color the walls, giving you more light to see your feet in front of you.

Eventually you are able to stumble through the cavern on your own now, without the guide of your hands on the rock on either side of you. Shallow breaths fill your lungs, erratic breathing making your shoulders shake in anticipation. You lick at the seams of your gums, begging your mind to call forth a beautiful string of words that will convince this legendary vigilante to once again rise up, with the backing of your renegade fighters, to take down the villainous once-hero Deku.

You come up on the furthermost part of the cave, the base of it opening up and rounding out to provide the hideaway with a spacious enough cavity to serve as a living space.

Your eyes are drawn to every inch of the room, starting with the wall where weapons are strung up like trophies. Chiseled into the stone are hollows in the shape of guns and knives and grenades, acting like shelving for the tools of destruction. Beneath it is the fire pit, burning high with flames, licking up at the air and peeling away what little oxygen remains. You find it harder to breathe here, mostly in part to the depth of the cave and the ongoing fire, stealing the breath from your very lungs.

Then your eyes find him, his back to you, settled on a log that will most likely be used for firewood at a later date. Your tongue feels like a sandbag in your mouth and you can’t force yourself to produce enough saliva to make up for the smoke in your throat.

And then he rises.

He is every bit as beautiful as they said he would be in all of the stories. Tales of bulging muscle and tall stature, hands that save the world with each flex of his knuckles, scars littering his body like a map, or like veins of pain running through slabs of chiseled marble.

He turns, and his eyes seem familiar.

You take a hesitant step forward, captivate by his serious stare. The rivulets of crimson and amber swirling in his irises make you want to drown in a lake of fire, burned at the stake for the sake of his cause. Your body cannot resist him, so you draw closer, further into the heat, begging yourself to become a slave to it so long as it means you can continue to find him in the flames.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

You are fumbling for words when he speaks again, “You’re wasting my time, baka. I’m not sure what about the sight of a secluded, secret cave gave you the idea to waltz in here like you own the damned place, but I’m kind of busy. So leave.”

The way your eyes roam around his abode, settling on each small space and dissecting it for everything that it is worth, unsettles him. He steps closer to you, blocking your vision with his wide shoulders.

“It doesn’t look like you’re very busy.”

The words are blurted from your mouth with little forethought, but they have you both reeling, your hands slapped over your lips as if you could take them back with simple action. The man stood in front of you shifts into some sort of attack position, hands curled into fists and the air begins to smell sickly sweet.

“Fucking bitch,” he bites the words as they exit his teeth, narrowing his eyes to you until they are but slits, “Get the hell out!”

“No, no!” You are flailing now, the impending doom of your failure to bring him back with you turning your stomach into knots. You shake your head, reaching out to press your hands to his chest, “Listen, please, you are Ground Zero, are you not?”

The sound of his own name echoing in the cave gives him pause. He tilts his head, ashen locks falling over his line of sight. You notice his head is buzzed at the base, nothing but blonde stubble left behind, however the top of his head is covered with pale locks of spike hair, as if he himself is a bomb ready to be blown at all times.

“I don’t know who the hell told you where to find me, but I’m not the guy you’re looking for.” He smacks your hands away with the back of his wrist, turning to stalk back to the fire. Once he settles on his stump again, he pulls another skewer of meat from a pack off to the side, rotating it over the fire to begin roasting it.

All you can think is how much of a let down this entire trip has been. You have walked for miles, for days, in order to hunt him down. You have hidden in jungles and abandoned buildings, and almost been caught by several villains with quirks you almost could not overpower on your own.

“Kirishima spoke so highly of you,” your voice is faraway, like you are on another plane of existence, looking down on him from above, “I thought you’d be more heroic than this.”

At the sound of your friend’s name, the man’s head tilts, eyes shifting as he looks over his shoulder at you, “Kirishima? Eijirou?”

“Y-You know Kiri?”

You take a cautious step forward, unsure of whether he believes Kirishima to be a friend or a foe. His eyes are lost, somewhere between here and there, unable to focus on any one thing as he rolls the name around on his tongue, tasting the distant memories there while they play out against the cavern walls for only his eyes to see.

“Kirishima was my-” he pauses, gritting his teeth together as his knuckles turn white around the skewer, “…he was my friend.”

The man stands to his feet, discarding the half-cooked slab of meat into the fire, “If Kirishima sent you, then things must be bad.”

You nod, striding forward until you are just close enough that his body heat is intoxicating, and the scent from earlier, the one that makes your head spin with saccharine promises, fills your nostrils until you cannot make out anything else.

“We need your help,” you say, voice wavering in the middle, “Deku has started to search for every hero, every renegade, and he’s murdering them. I came to bring you back to the rest of those who are still fighting. You are a legend, if we have your help, there’s no way we’ll lose.”

A wry smirk adorns his mouth, quirking his lips upward, “Kid, I don’t know who told you I was a legend, or that I’d be of any help, but I’m out here for a reason.”

“Just come back with me,” you plead, resisting the desire to wrap your fists around his tank and pull, “we need you.”

There is a hesitant look in his vermilion irises, something that tells you he is still hiding something. But, he straightens his spine anyway, a deep breath puffing out his chest, “I always did like to kick Deku’s ass.”

You cannot contain the beaming smile on your face, even when you turn on your heels to begin walking out of the cave and back to the light.

Which keeps you from seeing the dejected look in his eyes.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

Weeks of planning the perfect attack have brought you and Ground Zero closer.

Although now you know him as Bakugou Katsuki.

When he first reunited with Kirishima, and his presence was made known to your rag-tag team, you were shaken at the realization that legends are people too. Even in his vigilante times, Bakugou still held that same spark that lit his flame throughout the duration of his time at Yuuei, much of which he spent with Kirishima by his side.

“Holy shit, man!” Kirishima reaches around his shoulders for a hug, which Bakugou hardly reciprocates, “I can’t believe Ground Zero is you!”

There are moments where you catch his gaze lingering on you – when you are cooking dinner, when you chop firewood – and of course your eyes find him too. He trains shirtless most of the time, body on display as the sweat rolls down his body. His knuckles are bruised and his body is battered, and yet he continues to get up every day and start all over again.

You do note that you have not seen him use his quirk, not since he arrived at your renegade hideaway. It seems to be in reverie of everything going on, but from what you remember, Bakugou Katsuki was not a shy man, never one to keep himself from the spotlight. It is why he is the only one who pushed himself hard enough to compete with Deku, and to stay as his rival.

When you ask Kirishima, he just shrugs it off, “He probably doesn’t want any attention. Would you, if you felt like you had run away when the world needed another hero?”

So you co-exist. He near you, and you near him. Always orbiting, but never colliding.

There are times where you allow your affections to slip. When you’re passing him by, a gentle palm on his hip to alert him of your presence. When he reaches above you to pull a weapon off the shelf, his hand finds purchase at the base of your spine, as if steadying himself even though he is one of the sturdiest men you have ever seen.

There is a moment, a drunken haze, that leads you to believe he might even kiss you, however it is gone before it has the ability to flower into anything more.

Time passes, months that feel like years, of tracking and sleuthing and killing. There is murder on both sides, and you have both suffered losses.

One night he finds you, sitting on the beach, your tears glittering like starlight on your cheeks.

“This is war,” he says, squatting in the sand, “none of us is innocent.”

You sniffle, rubbing your arm against your face to rid it of your transgressions, “And what about those who want to be?”

Bakugou reaches forward, a careful palm gliding over your cheek as a new bout of tears springs forth like a leak. You can’t see the sad smile on his face through your tears, your vision glassy and clouded, and he is thankful that you cannot spot his weakness. He brushes the tears away and turns your head with the gentle flick of his wrist, “We’ll get there when we get there.”

You want to crumble, to falter and fall into a million shards of glass, and he knows this. He must, because there’s no way that the pressure of the lives of the rest of the world does not eat away at one’s soul until there is nothing but barren earth left. You circle your hand around his wrist, leaning your cheek into his palm so you can feel the heat of him and find comfort in his touch.

“What if we never get there?”

You can’t look at him, not when your scars are on display. Your heart wrenches in your chest and the pain is like a thousand cuts littered across your body until you are nothing but bleeding wounds. In your mind, you’ve succumbed to the sea of red, drowning in it, choking on it.

Bakugou does a strange thing then. He presses his other palm to your waist, drawing you forward so he can kiss the smooth skin of your forehead, “Don’t be an idiot.”

And then he turns to leave.

Your forehead burns like a blister with the echo of his affections.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

The time finally comes.

After months of research and loss, there is a plan.

“We know where he’s hiding,” Kirishima points to a central location on the map, releasing a breath as he looks up to Bakugou, “the guards will change shift at midnight, and that’s when you’ll attack. We’ll be on the ground to distract any other, smaller threats, but we’re counting on you to take him down in the end.”

Bakugou shoves Kirishima, but he falters himself, eyes unable to focus on any one thing, “I know, idiot. You didn’t bring me all the way out here to take my victory from me.”

You smile at the scene, catching his gaze as he turns to look back at the rest of the room. There is a crack in his armor when he sees you, confidence melting into something else, another emotion you can’t quite pin down. And you’re not sure if you really want to.

The rest of the meeting is all logistics, something you have already heard a dozen times, so you find yourself wandering along the coastline, the night air washing like a balm over you, sea salt in your lungs when you breathe. Your feet are barely in the water, but enough for it to lap up around your ankles with foam when the waves crest to shore. You hold yourself around the middle, as if you might be able to keep your broken pieces from shattering if you squeeze tightly enough.

Tears of salt match that of the ocean as the droplets roll down your cheeks, hanging on your jaw until they are too weighty, and then they fall into the seawater, melded together as if they belong. Your fingers ache, digging into your biceps to give yourself some sort of anchor while you watch the moon and stars shift in the night sky.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The words are reminiscent of the first time you met, all those months ago. They make you smile, a gentle huff of a laugh escaping your lips, even if the gesture does not quite reach your eyes. You turn to look at him over your shoulder, arms still wrapped around your torso, the jagged edges of your soul sinking in deeper the more you try to hide your faltering pieces.

“Thinking,” you answer quietly, soft voice almost overwhelmed by the waves.

Bakugou is drawn in closer, as if you are the sea, a siren calling to him from the beyond, and he strides forward until he is parallel with you. His eyes watch the waves, but the pull is to you, and he can only resist for so long.

“It’s just Deku,” he is trying to reassure you, reaching out to rest his palm on your neck, sifting fingers through the hair at the nape of it. “I won’t lose to him, not again.”

This brings your attention to his eyes, your body turning so you can approach him head-on, fear wracking your body like a storm. You gaze up at him, jaw quivering under the stress of your teeth grinding against one another, “Why did he do it?”

His hand glides from your neck to your jaw, tilting your eyes upward so you cannot look away from him, in spite of how difficult this conversation might be to have. He has not spoken of his childhood rival for what feels like an eternity; airing out his burdened confessions is but a foreign concept. He would rather keep them bottled away within the cage of his ribs, until the poison slowly dredges through his veins and he can fall away into some deep sleep brought on by death.

“No one could have expected it,” Bakugou starts, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw as he speaks, like the ministrations may give him the groundwork to have the conversation, “but One for All had too many wielders, had grown too powerful. Deku’s body couldn’t contain it and still stay sane.”

Bakugou looks frustrated, his brow tugged so his forehead wrinkles. You reach up to brush your thumb over the creased skin, “I’ve heard the stories. That the call to power was too strong, and he never told anyone because he was afraid of being weak.”

“Izuku has never been weak.”

His voice is ragged, as if glass has been lodged into his throat to inhibit his speech. Bakugou turns his head so you cannot see the emotion welling up in his eyes, “All Might should have seen it, but by the time he caught it, Deku had already gone mad. He snapped All Might’s neck on live television, the fucking bastard.”

The heaviness of the situation sits on your shoulders and you wonder if Bakugou has ever felt the burden of Atlas; you recall the significant burden weighing you down when you were first sent to retrieve him. Your mortal body wanted to crumble beneath the importance of your mission, you can’t even begin to fathom the overwhelming guilt he must be riddled with every day from the moment he wakes until he falls asleep.

“Then he came after the rest of us, one-by-one. Todoroki was next, then Uraraka.” Bakugou swallows the thick, pent-up emotion settled in his throat like barbed wire. He steels his gaze, even though it is only focused on the moon. “Kirishima was able to take a group of heroes and hide out when Deku came for me.”

You recall the fight like a movie playing on the backs of your eyelids. Bakugou and Deku fighting head to head, lightning and explosions igniting the swirling storm the unfurled around them. Pouring rain and debris flying, small tornados brought on by the use of Deku’s quirk, destroying the nearby buildings until there was nothing left.

Bakugou’s voice is heady, hands fallen from your face as if he no longer deserves to touch you. He takes a step backward, the roaring of the ocean giving him a pause, as if he were listening to the water for some sort of encouragement to continue his tale, to keep fighting.

You can’t help but wonder if losing the proverbial fight against Deku has tarnished his soul much deeper than he would ever admit, if his body has been at war with itself for years, unable to choose a side, unable to relent.

“I fought him for what felt like hours. Whatever One for All had done to him, corrupted his mind, broken his spirit,” Bakugou shakes his head, a snarl on his lips, “that wasn’t Deku that I was fighting. That was someone else.”

His breath hitches, “I-I’m not sure what the fuck possessed him to do what he did next, but he took-”

Bakugou’s throat bobs and his eyes flit from you to the water, unable to look at you in the face as he gnaws on his lower lip. The words must be too harsh, a pain running much further than skin deep. You know that his soul must be bruised, the very core of him broken beyond recognition.

“Took what, Katsuki?” you ask gently, reaching to tug his chin back so he is looking down at you, “You can tell me.”

Bakugou’s breathing is labored, quick, a mixture of frustration and anguish pressing down on his throat like a pair of hands, encasing his esophagus in a tight grip. He shakes his head, “He, uh- he let me go.”

It sounds disingenuous coming from his mouth, as if he’s forcing a lie through his teeth, his voice grating against his gums like metal. You reach out to touch his arm, but he sloughs you off with a quick movement, taking a step and pushing you further. Tears glisten in his eyes, but he does not let them fall; he cannot lose the battle with his body too. He looks up to the moon and lets loose a feral growl, crumbling to his knees and digging his hands into the wet sand, like tearing into it might provide him some sort of release.

“And then I tucked my fucking tail and I ran. Like a goddamn coward.” Bakugou’s jaw is rippling when he snaps his attention to you, eyes ablaze with red fire, “And that’s the hero you all claim to have needed. I wasn’t a hero, I was a fucking pussy. I was weak.”

Bakugou rises from the water, a murderous glare in his eyes, “And now I’m done being weak. I’m going to finish what I couldn’t before, I’m going to kill the bastard.”

You have let him vent his personal failures into the air, but now it is your turn to speak. Circling your fingers around his wrists, you pull yourself closer to him, as if the two of you are bound by an invisible thread.

“You’re not going alone,” you tell him, voice sure. You stand rooted in the ground, feet dug deep in the sand, “I won’t let you.”

He rolls his eyes, blowing a breath out of his nose, “And you think I’ll let you? No fucking way.”

The words sit on your tongue, burning like embers, syllables you’ve been stoking for months as you’ve grown closer to him. Your body rises up on your toes on instinct alone, eyelashes fluttering shut as you take him in one last time. You grit your teeth and a breath shudders from your lungs, shattering your heart like glass.

Your fingers traipse up his torso, climbing over the mounds of muscle that he has worked so hard to perfect. You feel the heat of tears well up in the back of your eyes, your vision blurred as you try to memorize everything about him in the short time you have left. When your palms reach his cheeks, fingertips dancing against warm, tanned skin, you can’t help but to tug yourself closer.

He can barely protest before you have melded your mouth to his, arching your back so your chest is flush with the broad plane of muscle in front of you. Bakugou hesitates, but just as you are about to pull away and profusely apologize, his arms snake around your waist to yank you closer. Your hips roll into his reflexively, finding the hardened length of his cock almost instantly.

Bakugou’s kiss is bruising, a heated ferocity driving him forward to part your lips at the seams, delving his tongue between your teeth at the first chance he receives. You moan at his affections, your hands threading through his hair, pinkies finding the stubble of his undercut while the others sift between blonde locks.

Tears are pushed from your eyelids, and he feels them against his cheeks as he kisses you. Bakugou slips his hands under the thin fabric of your tattered shirt, warmth spreading from the base of your spine outward to every extremity.

“I won’t lose you,” you manage between breaths, forcing the words out despite the possibility of his rejection.

Bakugou does not stop loitering affection over you like it were his job just because you show a moment of vulnerability. Rather, he’s spurred on by the admission, his hands digging deeper into your muscles now, most likely leaving bruises in their wake, and his teeth and tongue are merciless on your mouth.

The palms of his hands slowly drift down until he has cupped your thighs, his body folded just enough to give him a better angle to pull you up into the air. You hold in a squeal, unwilling to alert the rest of the camp, quickly wrapping your legs around his waist.

He breaks the kiss as oxygen begs his airways to open up once more, heaving breaths making his chest expand with sharp inhales. Through gasping breaths, he shakes his head, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You’re not sure how best to beg him to take you for all you’re worth here on the beach, but somehow you must silently communicate it, because he finds a secluded place and lays you down there, your back dug into the ground, but you are rather uncaring to it all. Your hands can’t find enough of him, insatiable in your efforts to map him out to memory, burning the impression of him into your mind so you may never lose him, even if something tragic were to part the two of you forever.

Bakugou’s fingers make quick work of the button of your shorts, delving his hand inside to brush at the bare folds of your core, already slick with arousal. He chuckles, nudging his nose over your neck, “Prepared for this, were you?”

A laugh is cut short by a whine, his teeth sinking into your jugular, sucking harshly on the skin there. Your hands find his shoulders, blunt nails bludgeoning the skin of his shoulders so he is seething into your body, curses flying from his lips as if they might brand your flesh if he whispers them hotly enough.

You whimper his name as he sheathes his fingers within you, two knuckles stretching your inner walls, scissored fingers making you throw your head back. Your body does not feel like your own, every wanton moan and twitch of your muscles in response to his salacious ministrations, reactions that you cannot fight, even if you wanted to.

Giving in, you reach down desperately, clawing your nails at the waistband of his cargo pants, uncaring as to how you get your palm underneath his underwear. Bakugou uses the hand not buried in your pussy to grab you by the wrist, pinning your hand over your head.

“You’re a needy little slut, hah?” Bakugou tightens his grip and speeds up his pace, earning him a wriggle from your body as you try to fight back. He smirks, teeth and gums on full display as he glowers down at you, “Don’t you worry, baby, I’m gonna give you my cock. Be patient.”

You whine in response, tilting your head to try and capture his lips again. Bakugou finds you halfway, his mouth parted so you can begin mapping out the curves of his teeth with your tongue. You kiss him as if your life may depend on it, like the time you are sharing may end at any moment.

You kiss him like he may die tomorrow.

There is fervor and passion and admiration conveyed with each smacking of your lips, your noses brushing when you try to angle yourselves to become closer. All the while, his middle and fourth fingers are working you forward into the throws of pleasure, lightning striking your core whenever his fingers brush up against your glutinous walls in just the right manner.

“Katsuki, please,” you beg of him, dragging your nails over the corded muscle of his shoulders. You can feel yourself slipping already, the impending doom of what is to come giving your body more urgency.

Bakugou growls when he feels your cunt clamp around his fingers, the thought of his cock within your tight hole making him dick twitch. You buck up when the head of his length brushes your thigh in his arousal, seeking him out despite the fullness you already feel from his digits pumping up into your heat.

Your whole body is shaking with the threat of your impending orgasm on the horizon, brought on by his disastrous fingers urging you forward. You cry out for him, wanton and begging as you pant his name repeatedly, rocking your hips with the rhythm of his fingers. Bakugou’s eyes roam your body as he leans back from you, gaze immediately drawn to the bounce of your plush chest. With each thrust of his fingers, your body quivers, and he knows he won’t be able to last apart from you for much longer, regardless.

As his fingers slowly peel from you, a whine tears your chest wide open. Tears drip down over your cheeks, a mixture of emotion and erotica giving the sound much more conviction. Bakugou feels the reverberations of your voice in his chest, stirring him to brush your silken slick along the length of his cock, pumping his shaft a few times before repositioning himself above you.

Bakugou rolls his wrist so the tip of his dick butterflies your pussy lips. You pant at the exhilaration of it all, your cunt fluttering as he pulls himself away from you only to bring it all back. His teasing strokes make your head spin, eyes barely able to peel open to look up at him. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth, and Bakugou leans forward to tug the muscle between his teeth, earning him an animalistic howl from the back of your throat.

The plea from you gives him the last push he needs to rut forward and claim you in one fatal stroke.

Your hands sink into him like hooks, eyes screwed shut as he starts to suck on your tongue. Bakugou’s breath spills over you like a wash of heat, sending a shudder down your spine. He uses his hands to grip you by the thighs, yanking you closer so your hips are flush as he sinks all the way into you all over again.

“Ka-” you can barely make a sound with the way his mouth has destroyed yours, suffocating you until you are lightheaded with the thought of him. As you struggle beneath him, Bakugou releases you in favor of leaning back to watch as his cock separates your walls and fills your cunt until it stretches to fit his thick girth.

You are a blubbering mess the moment he allows you space to breathe. Your hands can’t find enough of him to paint with your touch, nails dragging thin, angry red lines into his thighs, and your throat only knows how to say his name.

“Good girl,” he chuckles, watching you come undone beneath him, “I can’t wait to feel you come all over my cock.”

His dick is rutting into you at an impeccable pace, the tip of his cock brushing against your walls as he twitches from your tight pussy. Bakugou digs his fingers into the skin of your thighs, likely bruising them with the intensity of his grip, pushing your knees back until they are pressed against your chest so he can fuck into you from above.

You lick your lips, thin rivulets of drool seeping out of the corners of your mouth, “Please, Bakugou, I-I wanna come.”

The desire to rip your arousal from you until you cannot speak in full sentences gives him a fiery drive, his hips slamming into your ass as filthy words fall from his lips. You can feel his cock bottoming out within your cunt, thickening with each stroke of his hips as he grows closer to the end himself. You beg for his spend, for him to coat you until you are dripping with his seed, the mixture of your arousal and his pre seeping from your lips and furthering the wet sounds that echo whenever his balls slap against your ass.

“You wanna come on my cock, yeah?” he asks, voice dithering the longer he’s within you. You are begging him now, your back arched forward so you can seek him out with wide eyes and pleading palms. He soaks in the affections, your hands on his face and in his hair, your lips finding purchase on whatever part of his body you can reach.

A snarl makes his throat shake and, if possible, he rips into your even further, growling voice speaking into your ear as you fall back against the ground at the sheer force of his hips, “Then fucking come, slut.”

His words are all you need to push you into the next plane of existence, where a shattering orgasm racks your body. You convulse around his cock, the newfound tightness as you milk your own release pushing him over the crest as well. He drives his cock as deep into you as he can, your hips flush at the juxtaposition of your sex as he spurts up into your core. You feel the heat of his release, the twitch of his cock, and your limbs grow numb from effort.

Bakugou leans forward so he is balancing himself on his forearms, nosing over the swell of your chest and the column of your neck, small, chaste kisses littered over your skin like stars. He sighs, nudging your collarbone, “You’re not coming with me tomorrow. I won’t lose you too.”

Your heart sings at his admission, and your spirit wants to argue, but when he kisses you again, you can’t find it within yourself to tell him otherwise.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

“All right, man,” Kirishima claps him on the back, leaning against the brick wall of the alleyway.

You can tell that there is much more he wants to say, but Bakugou has never had much patience for any sort of sappy confession, so all that passes between them is a nod of understanding. You, on the other hand, are careless in your affection, launching yourself forward to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him full on the mouth, uncaring for the onlookers unbeknownst to your time together.

When you pull away, there are tears in your eyes, but you force the words between your teeth regardless, “Don’t die on me.”

Bakugou’s eyes are sad, holding such a dark color in his usually bright irises, “A real hero always comes out on top, no matter what.”

Usually it is said with much conviction, but this time, it sounds like he is trying to convince himself more so than anyone else. Your hands palm over his face, committing him to memory one last time before he turns his back to you, headed towards the end of the line, unknowing as to which side he may end up on this time.

As soon as he steps out onto the pavement, he’s greeted with the familiar laughter of an old friend.

“Oi, Kacchan. It’s been too long.”

Your heart leaps into your throat and Kirishima has to hold you back, hidden away in the shadows. You look at him over your shoulder, eyes blown wide as your pupils swallow your irises, “H-He was supposed to be alone.”

The look in Kirishima’s eyes is haunting, a desolate gaze turned on his best friend. He tightens his jaw and breathes heavily through his nostrils, an answer never given as he watches on in horror at the scene in front of him unfolding.

“I thought I told you to get lost,” Deku speaks, voice confusingly innocent despite the feral look in his eyes. A cackle parts his lips and you’ve never seen Bakugou this quiet during a fight, “But, then again, wouldn’t a fight between the All Mighty Deku and a Quirkless Kacchan be entertaining?”

Your whole world turns sideways.

Bakugou’s words from the very beginning replay on loop in your mind as your breathing corrupts your own lungs, shattered and shaking as your body coats itself in sweat.

His breath hitches, “I-I’m not sure what the fuck possessed him to do what he did next, but he took-”

“Took what, Katsuki?” you ask gently, reaching to tug his chin back so he is looking down at you, “You can tell me.”

Bakugou Katsuki is quirkless.

Now more than ever you want to dart out into the street, to throw yourself down like a sacrificial lamb for the slaughter. Whatever it takes to keep Katsuki safe. Tears blur your vision and anger scars your heart, marring up the organ until you cannot feel it beating within your own chest.

Bakugou turns his head, vermilion eyes seeking you out in the darkness of the alleyway. He smiles, for the first time in full, and offers you one final look at his body completely intact before he returns his gaze to his childhood rival, hands turning to fists at his sides as he gets into his fighting position.

“So pathetic, Kacchan.” Deku looks Bakugou in the eyes as he ignites his quirk, green lightning dancing around as a storm begins to brew.

He holds up his hands, palms open-faced as his skin crackles, the sweet smell of saccharine turning to ash in the air. Colors of orange and yellow cast frightening shadows along the length of the street, a familiar power exploding on the cusp of Deku’s fingers.

“And now you die.”

a/n: i don’t think that went how anyone thought it would! it’s a lot different from anything i’ve ever done, and i’m not fully happy with it. but thank you for reading, if you got this far!!

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #morgan writes bnha #my writing #bnharem #server collab #bnharem server collab

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ssa-daddyhotchner · 4 years

Text

Undercover - Chapter 3

Chapter Selection

Few days later

I woke up at 5am with my alarm blaring. I turn it off covering my face with the pillow then taking a deep breath and standing up. Going to the kitchen I brew a pot while taking a shower.

Using my lavender shampoo and conditioner then washing them out. I look down and see Aarons body wash and I chose to use that instead.

When I finish my shower my coffee is ready and its 5:20am. While getting dressed my phone lights the room.

Aaron - Morning, when you come in today go straight to my office; I wanna ask you something

Y/N - Okay, I should be there in about half and hour

I grab my things and go to the parking lot; getting into my car and heading to work. It was a short drive occasionally getting some texts from Aaron.

Walking into the building I pass Reid, joining him in the elevator. "Morning", I could see him shuffling getting closer to the doors so he could leave.

"Morning", with that the doors opened and he rushed out going to his desk. I shrug off what's happening with him, putting my stuff at my desk then straight to Aarons office; I knock on the door.

"Come in", he still kind of had his morning voice. It was deep and gravely, "What's this about."

He leans back putting his pen on the desk, "Can you shut the door please." Shutting the door he resumes, "I wanted to ask you out on a date."

Oh I looked a little surprised, "That'd be nice." I take a seat in front of him, "Dinner?"

"I could eat", I flash him a smile; getting up over to his chair and sitting on his lap. His large hands automatically moving to my hips and ass.

I brought my hands to cup his face, "Good Morning."

My lips pressed to his, biting his bottom lip. Getting a groan from him he moved a hand into the waistband of my pants. My hands making its way into his hair and tugging.

I moved away before it got too heated, but the damage was done.

"Well hello", I could feel him underneath me; I grinned and shifted on his lap, "Fuck." He said through his teeth, "You love teasing me don't you."

I smiled and met his gaze. "It's what I'm best at luckily for you I'm willing to help with your- uh problem."

I palm him through his pants him groaning in my ear. I sank to my knees looking into his eyes; I undid his belt. He lifted his hips so I could pull him out.

Taking him out of his boxers, his cock smacking his stomach before going straight.

He was bigger than any of the men I've been with. I knew he was packing but damn, I thought to myself.

I pump him a few times before flatting a stripe from the base all the way up his shaft, running my tongue along his tip with small little circles.

"Little girl please", he groaned; I internally smiled to myself. I wrapped my mouth around him; hollowing my cheeks. Aaron laid his head on the back of his chair.

I relaxed as I pushed him all the way till he hit the back of my throat.

I pumped what I couldn't fit; His hand found it's way into my hair guiding my movements up and down. He hissed when my tongue flatted on the underside of his cock. Aaron bucked his hips forcing himself into me.

I quickened my pace, my lungs burning from the lack of oxygen; tears springing from the corners of my eyes. He looked at me in awe never breaking eye contact.

"Baby I-", I could feel his dick twitch and I quickened my pace. I wanted to taste him, I hummed around him pushing him over the edge.

"Be a good girl", I swallowed every last drop. He cleaned up the sides of my mouth and put himself back into his pants.

I gave him a long kiss, walked to the door and unlocked it; walking down the ramp to my desk. Hotch sent me a text. He opened his blinds so I could see him.

Aaron- I'll pick you up at 7, and wear something fancy

________________________________

It was 6:00 and I still needed to get ready; I got side tracked from cleaning my apartment. I get undressed and took a shower washing everything and shaving everything. When I got out it was 6:20.

I curled my hair once it was dry; I throw on some black heels and a tight black dress with a slit going to my mid thigh. It was exactly 7pm when I heard a knock at my door.

I saw it was Aaron and I opened the door. He wore a black dress shirt that hugged his frame and black pants. Aaron eyed me up and down. "You look gorgeous', he wouldn't stop looking; it made my face red.

"And you sir are very handsome", he held out his arm and we walked to his car. I held on to his bicep; he went ahead and opened my side of the car. He got in and headed to the restaurant, his hand on my thigh the whole drive.

We arrive at a strip there are multiple things lighting the street. He opens my side holding out his hand. "Thank you", he walked us over to an Italian restaurant.

"Reservation for Hotchner", the women takes a second; "Ah here we are right this way." Our table is in the corner of the room so we can view everything.

I ordered the Chicken Marsala and Aaron ordered the Spaghetti Carbonara. I had 3 glasses of white wine and was tipsy. The conversation was light half taking about work the other half about our hobbies and other friends.

"Check please", Aaron held onto my hand on the table. "What are we doing now", I said excitedly. "I wanted to walk around for a bit", I gripped his hand; nodded and we left.

He took me to a park not too far from the restaurant; there were lights hanging in the trees and was well lit till we got to the water.

I heard the waves smacking against the rocks below us. There was a warm breeze; we began walking along the water.

This time I grabbed his hand; interlacing our fingers. "Y/n", I tilt my head looking to the side.

I hummed, he takes a deep breath. "On your first case when you were basically sleeping on me", I started to giggle.

"I saw that there were uh- scars running down you back", I tensed up an closed my eyes almost completely letting go of him but he held on.

I wanted to hide an lock myself away those were memories I didn't need to be reminded of but he wanted to know. "Y/n what happened." His voice was low and soft like he was trying not to scare me away.

I stopped in my tracks tugging on his hand to turn around, "My ex husband...he was great at first, after about a year he started to get aggressive.

Always snapping at me for no reason hitting me, one da-." I looked away avoiding his eyes trying to blink away the tears.

"One day I decided I had enough and tried to fight back then leave. He tied me to the bad post on my stomach while he dragged the knife across my back. He would take his time saying 'This is what you deserve'."

"He kept me there for a few days till he let me go and threated me. I got away but I don't know what happened to him after that." Aarons face was written with sadness traces of tears in his eyes.

I was still avoiding facing him but he grabbed my chin gently and making me look at him. There were tears streaming down my face, my make-up was smudging.

He moved his hand from my chin to my cheek cupping it. "I would never do that to you, understand."

He let out a sigh, "My god y/n." He held my waist pulling me towards him. I threw my arms around his neck standing on my toes, I put my head on his shoulder crying.

"Can you take me home", I said in a whisper. Aaron nodded, "Of course."

We walked to the car and then drove me home, I was holding his hand the whole drive. He walked me to my door, "Goodnight....just know you can always talk to me...okay?"

I gave him a weak smile, "Okay."

I opened the door and kissed his cheek. "Goodnight", and I shut it going straight to bed.

____________________________

2 weeks later

I wake up at 2am unable to go back to sleep. The thought of my ex running the blade on me makes me stiffen up and wanna break down.

I reach for my phone scrolling through my contacts.

My finger hovering over Hotchs determining if I really wanna bother him with this. I click his name; the phone ringing and he picks up.

"Hotchner", I smirk to myself; just hearing is voice relaxes me.

"Hey it's y/n", I hear him sit up waking up a bit more. "What is it?", I really don't wanna bother him.

"It uh- nevermind", he shuffles and I sit up. "No it's okay you can tell me"

"I'm just... having trouble sleeping."

"Can you maybe come over, you don't have too If-", he cuts me off.

"It's not a problem I'll be there." We both hang up; I get up waiting for him.

Someone knocking on my door; I open it, "Hey." I said sounding small still feeling like a burden.

He had a bag on his shoulder and he drops it on the couch. Hotch tugs my hand to sit on the stool, "How are you really", I honestly didn't know how to answer that.

I've been having some trouble sleeping. I've noticed that I'm drinking a little more than I usually do.

"I'm not sure, but I've been having trouble sleeping, been drinking a little more. My ex is basically haunting my dreams right now. I don't remember the last time I had a good nights sleep by myself."

Aaron looking at me genially listening to what I have to say, like he actually cares.

He grabs my hand and I continue. "The only time I'm actually okay is... with you."

He brings me towards him kissing my temple, "I think you're the first person to say that an mean it." I push him back a little bit, "Come on I'm being serious." He chuckles and I pout a bit.

We sit there for another half an hour mainly talking about my problems.

I end the conversation grabbing his hand an pulling him to the bedroom. I get under the covers and he lays next to me.

My back against his torso; his hand tracing my spine. Placing kissing up and down my jaw an neck.

He sucks gently leaving behind light purple marks. I moan but I cut him off flipping to face him.

"Now now we'll have time for that tomorrow, but right now I just wanna sleep." Pouting a bit, but he understands.

He lays on his back, my face on his chest I trace the scars on his stomach.

Tangling our legs together I find his hand lacing our fingers. His deep breaths on the top of my head relaxes me, "Goodnight little girl."

Aaron POV

I wake up in her arms, the sun peaking through the curtains illuminating her face.

She’s gorgeous, I whisper into her ear, "I'll always be here. I'll never hurt you." She shifted and moved her hand to my side.

We hadn't discussed what this was but I already knew what I wanted; I said to her, "I want you to be mine and I wanna be yours." She lifted her head and looked at me.

"Really?", want and need flashed through her eyes. "Really", I said in a reassuring tone. She cupped my face and crashed her lips with mine.

I pulled away looking her in her eyes, "Now now we'll have time for that later." I got up and headed to the shower. Getting back at her for saying that to me last night.

I walked away with a huge ass smile.

Leaving her on the bed in a shock. I stepped into the shower letting the hot water run down my body.

Y/n POV

He wanted me; he just left me hanging. He's not getting away that easy. I opened the shower curtains and stepped in after him.

Wrapping my arms around his waist running my hands down his stomach and to his shaft.

His breath hitches and he started to harden. He turned around; not a second goes by and his lips smashing into mine.

His tongue swipes along my bottom lip. I let his in and he bites my lip, I groan into the kiss.

I go to move my hands along his cock but he slams me on the tile wall pinning my hands above my head; the water running down his body. Droplets of water dripping of his hair on to my skin.

My back arching from the cold surface, "I do the touching, understand." I didn't know what to say.

I whimpered and he jolted onto me; in a stern voice he said, "Come on little girl use your words."

I kiss him biting on his lip almost drawing blood; I pull away and stare into his eyes, "I understand."

"Good girl", he dragged his movements bringing his hand to my inner thigh and grabbing.

I suppress my moan just begging for him to finally touch me. He got closer an closer to where I needed, teasing me but never giving me release.

"Please", I whimpered. His mouth got close to my ear, "Okay baby." His fingers finally doing circles on my clit as he nibbled on my ear lobe.

I moved me hips to gain some extra friction.

"Baby", I cried out. "I want you jus-", he slipped a finger into my wet pussy thrusting in and out hitting my g-spot.

He inserted a third finger; combined with his thumb rubbing it was beginning to be too much. Just as I was about to tip over the edge he stopped.

He pulled out his finger and I cried out, "Why'd you stop." With out warning he slammed his cock into me not letting me adjust to his size.

He brought his hand to my throat lightly choking me. Pounding into me still holding me into place, he pressed harder around my neck.

I put my leg up on the side of the tub. Fucking me from a new angle I pull him into another kiss. His mouth muffling my moans.

He signals me upwards and I wrap my legs around his waist.

I throw my head back in euphoria as I get closer to my high. Aaron thrust start to falter, I can feel him pulsating; he's close too.

I clench around him and he releases a loud moan. He hisses through his teeth, "Fu- baby just like that."

"Aaron", I moan out breathlessly as my high washes over me. He slows his movements riding it out; making me feel every inch.

He resumes his pace pounding into me when I pull his hair leaning his head to the side; I nip, kiss, and suck on his neck leaving my mark on him.

He moaned loudly into my ear taking both of my hands and pinning them back over my head. His thrust became sloppy and he twitched inside me.

He pressed his forehead to mine and gave me a long kiss as he pulled out. I winced and he pulling me into the water putting shampoo into my hair, "You did so good baby." Massaging my scalp while placing kisses on my shoulder.

Rinsing it out and washing my body I do the same for him. We step out of the shower and get dressed.

"Did you wanna get some breakfast." While getting dressed, "Yeah that's good, maybe we can invite the team too. Honestly I haven't really talked to them all that much this week."

"I'll call them", I smile and we go get breakfast. "Oh and I wanted to talk to you about Reid."

____________________________

@mac99martin @donttellanyoneireadfanfiction @appleblossoms-posts @marie1115

#aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner #reader x aaron+hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #fanfic #criminal minds #hotch smut

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Ever in Your Favor, Chapter Seven (Rosnali) - Athena2

Summary: After the kiss, Rosé and Denali struggle to deal with their feelings while trying to reach the end of the Games.

A/N: Thank you so much for the feedback on the last chapter! It really means a lot, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter. Also, thank you to haiplana for letting me talk this one through with you.

*I know I made a general disclaimer at the start and in the tags, but I want to say that this chapter is probably more violent than the others, so please be aware.*

---

In the bakery, Rosé’s father has a giant rolling pin, and she feels like she’s been trampled with it ten times over. Her joints are stiff from days of shivering and her leg twinges when she walks. But she’s alive, and she’s grateful to be. She and Denali wash up in the stream, and Rosé savors the cool water on her sweaty skin, enjoys the sun warming her back. She tugs her shirt and jacket back on, stroking the lion pin. There was a time in that cave when she thought the pin wouldn’t get home, that she’d never feel the sun again. But she made it, and she’s going to go home and try to appreciate that, and tell her sisters she loves them even though they know.

And she can do that because of Denali.

Denali, who refused to leave her, who got leaves and water every day to keep her alive, who stroked her hair and whispered that everything would be okay when Rosé was too sick to believe it. Denali had kissed her without hesitation to save her life, and Rosé will never be able to thank her enough for it. For her life.

But part of Rosé feels awful about it. She knew, in theory, that their fake relationship might require kissing, even if a relationship is so much more than kissing. She pictured a little cheek kiss for their post-Games interview, but last night was something else entirely. It feels like she just used Denali, begging for a kiss so she could live. That was part of it, admittedly, but Rosé cares for Denali too much to just use her, and she wouldn’t have done it unless she absolutely had to. What if Denali hated it? What if she never wanted things to go that far? What if she hates Rosé? She needs to talk to her. She can’t push Denali away like she did after her first Games.

Rosé trudges over the rocks, stopping at Denali’s side. “Your hair,” Denali laughs, pointing to Rosé’s tangled mop of wet curls. “Forget the pin, that’s why they call you the Lion.”

“Well, some of us can’t braid our hair in five seconds, Miss Foxx.” Rosé glares at her, but she can’t help the laugh that escapes, and soon they’re both laughing, the sound so strange after days of fear, but also the most natural thing in the world.

“Okay, okay,” Denali gasps, holding her sides. “Let me do your hair.”

Rosé’s heart skips a beat. “Okay.” She shivers as Denali’s hands brush against her neck, fingers expertly weaving through chunks of hair.

“Much better,” Denali says, admiring her work.

Rosé recovers her breath, neck still tingling. “So, um, last night.”

Denali bites her lip. “I didn’t think you’d remember. You were pretty out of it.”

Rosé was out of it. Her skin was burning, her head was foggy, and all she remembers is an endless stretch of time where dreams melted together, and she has no idea what was real and what wasn’t.

But she remembers the kiss.

She remembers waking up and seeing Denali, feeling in her heart that it was real. She remembers telling Denali she loves her, the surprise in Denali’s eyes. And she remembers the kiss: cool lips melting over the feverish heat of her own, her heart racing until she thought it would burst.

And she remembers how much she liked it.

“That kiss was...memorable,” Rosé says.

Denali’s eyes go to her feet, to the sky, to anything but Rosé, and Rosé wonders if she said the wrong thing. What if she did something else last night that she can’t remember? What if Denali hates her?

“Are you...okay?” Rosé asks, voice low in case of cameras. “I know the kiss was a lot, and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable putting you on the spot like that--”

“I’m fine. You didn't do anything we didn't agree to. It’s just a game, right?” Denali looks away again, cheeks bright red.

Rosé feels like she got punched in the throat. “I...right. Just a game.”

It is just a game. That’s all it ever was, all it’s supposed to be. A way to help even the odds. Of course that’s how Denali sees it; Rosé’s mumbled love confession was strategic at best and delirious ravings at worst. That’s all it’s supposed to be.

So why did it feel so real to Rosé? Why does she want to kiss Denali again, on their own time, in their own space? Why does it hurt so badly that Denali thinks it’s a game, that it’s fake?

Denali is gathering their stuff, and the arena comes flooding back, like a dream after days in the cave. A dangerous dream. Rosé needs to focus. They’re so close, and she can’t cost them the victory by being distracted. Whatever she’s feeling, whatever she wants, can wait until they’re back home. Denali is right. This is a game.

And they’re going to win it.

---

Denali guides them through the forest with purpose. She doesn’t know when things changed, but she knows, as they silently step over twigs, that they’re no longer the hunted, but the hunters. She feels the change in her, the tightness in her hand around the bow, the eyes darting around for tributes. They’ve been holding back, letting the others weed themselves out, but now it’s time to show what the Lion and the Fox can really do. She can’t afford to spare anyone like she did with Finn. Not now.

She keeps alert, no chance of getting caught off guard like she did in her first Games. She’s focused. She’s not thinking about her knee shattering last time, or the strange warmth in her chest when Rosé laughs, or kissing Rosé--

Her lips tingle with the memory, wanting it again so badly. She can’t. Not with their lives on the line.

Rosé points between the trees, where the District 8 tributes walk.

Denali pulls her behind a tree, holding up her bow and signaling that she’ll strike from afar. She aims her bow, pulling back on the string--

Something crashes into her arm, the arrow releasing into nothing.

“The hell?” A giant gray bird digs its talons in Denali’s arm, beak pecking at her face. She shoves the thing off her, only to see two more. Rosé gets one with her sword, and Denali sinks an arrow into the other’s neck. She sees more in the trees, but they seem to be holding back for now.

“These are the ugliest birds I’ve ever seen in my life,” Denali mutters, spearing the first bird that attacked her.

“Their scales look like that one dress Symone had you try on.” Rosé smiles. Her eyes shine with glee, and Denali can’t look away, because Rosé was so sick in that cave Denali didn’t think she’d see her like this again.

“Don’t remind me.” Denali groans. “Although you should not be talking after that zebra dress--”

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the lovebirds.”

Their smiles are instantly gone, and they turn to see the tributes from District 8 scowling at them.

So much for a silent attack.

District 8 looks rough, torn clothes covered with dirt and blood, faces hollow, down to just the weapons in their hands. You’d think they’re easy kills at this stage, but Denali knows it's the opposite: they’re desperate, and have nothing left to lose, so they’ll fight to the bitter end.

“Long time no see,” Rosé says, and only Denali can detect the quiver in her voice, because she also knows this won’t be easy. They can stand around staring at each other all day, but they’re only delaying the inevitable. Denali forces away the memory of the District 8 woman nodding in approval at her knots.

The man grips his sword and leans forward, that tiny heartbeat of calm before a fight begins.

“You go left, I go right,” Rosé says.

“My left or your left?”

“They’re the same left, Denali!” Rosé cackles, and Denali knows purposely asking a stupid question was worth it just to hear the sound, and it carries her into the fight.

The man towers over her, but his longer limbs are slower. His sword slices across her arm, but she uses her speed to dart away from his strikes, sinking her spear into his chest.

But it doesn’t stop him.

He pulls the spear out and breaks it in half, and Denali is left facing his sword with nothing but a knife and panic flooding her chest. Things slow down around her, like when she’s in that hunting zone, and she knows the next move.

“Switch!” she yells to Rosé, and they spin around, back to back, before taking on their new opponents.

The woman’s spear is easier to block; the edges are smooth, and Denali only has to worry about the point. Denali dodges hits, and when the woman staggers back, Denali pulls an arrow from her quiver and fires in a heartbeat. The double cannon fire tells her Rosé succeeded as well.

They drop on the grass, panting as the adrenaline fades, and for a few seconds, they rest.

---

Barely five minutes after the fight, they find a body.

It’s the woman from District 7, dead eyes open toward the sky, mouth stained not with blood, but with berry juice.

“Poisoned by nightlock,” Denali says quietly.

She gets an idea, and pulls out the silver container they’d saved from the medicine delivery. She plucks berries from the bushes and drops them inside.

“I doubt we can trick the others with them, but you never know,” she explains to Rosé.

Rosé nods.

They’re at the final four.

---

It’s a quiet night.

They climb up a tall tree and settle on a thick branch, to keep an eye on what’s going on below. Neither of them is planning to sleep tonight, not with two tributes out there, ready to kill.

They’ve only exchanged whispers, not wanting to risk attention. There’s no way to discuss the kiss, and Rosé thinks maybe that’s a good thing. When this is all over, when they’re finally home, then they can talk about it. If there’s even anything to talk about.

Rosé’s stomach growls. They couldn’t find any food today. After those birds, every animal seemed to vanish into thin air. They’ll manage tonight, but how many more days are left? What if they can’t get any food at all? Rosé’s trying to calculate the odds when two parachutes land on their branch. She nudges Denali, who’s curled against the tree trunk like she’s part pine, looking so at home up here.

Denali takes one parachute and Rosé takes the other, and she gasps when she opens it. The first thing she sees is a cake, with white icing and delicate blue swirls. She’d recognize Lagoona’s handiwork anywhere. Next to it is a loaf of round bread, Jan’s favorite kind to make. There’s days worth of food inside too, and God, Rosé loves her sisters so much.

“From your sisters?” Denali asks.

“Yeah. What about yours?”

“Kandy and Kahmora,” Denali says quietly, wiping a tear. “I just--it’s nice, you know?”

“It’s like there’s hope again,” Rosé says, because she does know. The parachute must have cost a fortune with the Capitol fees, and it’s a reminder of what’s waiting at home, a reminder that happiness and joy are still out there. A reminder that she’s loved.

“Yeah.” Denali sighs. “I’m not even as close to them as I used to be. But it’s nice to know they’re still thinking about me. That they still care. That someone sees us as more than just people on TV.”

Rosé nods. To everyone else watching, they’re just people on TV. But to her sisters, to Denali’s friends, they’re watching someone they really know, someone they really care about. For all the stress of being in the arena, Rosé can’t imagine the stress of her sisters, watching her fight and nearly die through a screen, unable to do a thing to help when they’ve helped each other their whole lives. And to do it not once, but twice. Rosé imagines hugging them in a giant bear hug when this over, and burns with a new determination to get home.

“It makes me want to get back home,” Rosé says softly. “And maybe--maybe be better. Try to live more, I guess.”

“I get it.” Denali bites her lip. “Maybe we can still be ourselves after. Not let the Games destroy us.”

It’s what they talked about the night before the Games began, but it feels different now. Less a fear and more a hope. A hope that they can come out on the other side of this, together, and learn to live again. The last time Rosé did this, she was fifteen and terrified and desperate to get home. She didn’t know that the arena would change her idea of home, that she would spend years waking up gasping, expecting to see blood around her. The Games kept her in their grip, made her push away the people who cared about her. She suspects the same is true about Denali--she knows Denali and Jan drifted after Denali got back, that Denali only has Kandy and Kahmora over once or twice a year. But they’ve done this round together, been there for each other the whole time, and maybe they can try to live and heal together. She wants to stay close with Denali after this, wants to laugh with her sisters more, wants to find things she enjoys again.

“I'd like that,” Rosé says. "First thing when we get home, we're making our victory cake."

Denali grins, like sun after a storm. "Only if you let me show you this meadow in the woods."

"Deal."

“Let’s eat,” Denali says, and they eat with the joy this food deserves, passing things back and forth and teasing each other for making a mess.

They cut the bread, and then Rosé finds the note. She remembers their father showing them a special paper that could be baked into something. He said they used to be popular for wedding cakes. Rosé unfolds it, heart swelling at Jan’s handwriting.

Rosie,

You have some explaining to do when you get home! We want all the details on you and Denali! I knew she had a crush on you when we were kids, it’s about damn time she figured it out. Also, I don’t know how it took you that long to realize I wasn’t the one humming in that cave. I’ll cut you some slack because you were delirious and I love Denali, but I would never hum that off-key. Anyway, we hope you like the stuff. Lagoona says make sure you share the cake and don’t hog the whole thing. Please come home soon, okay? We love you.

Jan and Lagoona

Rosé doesn’t even care when her tears escape. She loves her sisters, and she isn’t embarrassed about it. Her eyes fly over the words several times, reading it in their voices, the words tracing paths on her heart. She presses it to her chest and pretends she’s hugging them, and only then does she fully comprehend the first few lines.

Jan thinks Denali had a crush on Rosé when they were younger? That can’t be right. Though if anyone would know, it would be Jan. She and Denali were best friends from kindergarten. But Denali hasn’t mentioned it, and according to Jan, wasn’t even aware of her own crush. But what if Jan is right, and Denali really does like her? But that wouldn’t matter, wouldn’t lead to anything unless--unless Rosé likes her too.

Rosé looks at Denali, eating a piece of bread, and her heart swells with the answer her brain won’t acknowledge. Rosé does like her, maybe even loves her. She likes Denali’s laugh, the warmth in her eyes, that wrinkle between her eyebrows when she aims her bow. She likes Denali’s humor, how she can always make Rosé laugh. She likes that when she looks at Denali, she thinks of home. This relationship was fake at the start, purely an attempt to improve their odds. But somehow, it’s turned to Rosé’s heart bursting every time she looks at Denali. She doesn’t know the last time she felt this way, about anyone--hell, after the arena, it was sometimes hard to feel anything. The hope when she looks at Denali used to seem impossible, but isn’t now.

It burns inside her, but it has to stay inside. Springing this on Denali when they’re in the final four is a distraction that could cost their lives. And she doesn’t have proof that Denali likes her--just the hope of an old crush. Not to mention confessing that she loves Denali for real will discount the relationship they’ve built for the arena, exposing them as liars. There’s no way to tell her now. It has to wait until they’re home.

They share the cake, and Denali wipes frosting off Rosé’s lip, and Rosé wants more than ever to go home.

---

They spend the day walking through the arena, and Denali’s shoulders are tighter than her bow-string. All this walking is giving her too much time to think. Time to think about Rosé, about the smile Denali would do just about anything to see. About how Rosé makes her feel safe enough to share things she wouldn’t tell anyone. How Denali wants to see her every day after they go home, wants to learn things about her she hasn’t discovered yet. But would Rosé want the same thing? Denali knows things have been hard for her since the Games, and what if things collapse without the arena holding them together? But she thinks of what Rosé said last night, about her hopes for the future. Maybe there is hope. Once they get out of here, and Denali stops thinking about how soft Rosé’s lips are, how nice it might be to kiss her again--

She stumbles on a tree root and swears softly.

“Everything okay?” Rosé asks, hands immediately flying to Denali’s sides to steady her.

Denali nods, praying Rosé can’t see how much she’s blushing, though her face is warm enough to combust. There’s no thinking of kissing right now. She’s about to lead them in another direction when she hears flapping wings. But there’s only a huge gray cloud in the sky, that can’t be--

“Run. Run now,” Denali says.

They sprint through the woods, the swarm of birds scratching at their backs. There’s no direction, just running away, and they only stop once they’re back at the Cornucopia, now an empty shell of scraps and bloodstains. And they’re not alone.

Both tributes from District 2 stand in the grass, loaded with weapons.

The birds have vanished, no longer needed after bringing the final four together.

This is it.

The end is close enough for Denali to grasp, close enough to feel the plush train seat bringing her home, to smell the woods of District 12. She doesn’t want to kill these two. But she wants so badly for this to be over, to go home, and she knows the price she has to pay for that.

“We can do this,” Rosé says quietly.

Denali nods, gripping her spear as they saunter to the other tributes. There’s no hurry, no point rushing the inevitable. She can imagine her friends and Rosé’s sisters glued to their TV’s, and Denali gives another nod to herself, a vow that they’ll win.

“The Lion and the Fox. At last,” says the man. Denali thinks his name is Cato, and the woman is Glimmer.

Rosé just pulls out her sword as Cato grabs his axe. There’s nothing to say, nothing that can change what’s about to happen. Two of them will win, and two of them will die.

“Do you hear that?” Denali asks, cutting through the tension.

“I don’t hear anything! Quit stalling, Fox!”

“No, I--” Denali gasps at what her hunter’s hearing had picked up.

Enormous wolves circle around them, growling and baring razor-sharp teeth. Even on all fours, they’re nearly as tall as her, with claws longer than her fingers.

“The eyes…” Rosé says, face paling.

Denali looks at the wolf closest to her, with shaggy tan fur. Its eyes are impossibly blue, bluer than the sea. She’s seen these eyes before, had watched them close one last time while Rosé hummed a lullaby.

“Finn,” Denali breathes. She doesn’t know how the Gamemakers created wolves with the tributes' eyes; she doesn’t want to know. All she knows is that she now needs to fight off not only two tributes, but twenty wolves. They’re probably the worst odds Denali’s ever seen.

Denali knows animals, knows hunting, and she pulls Rosé away a second before the leader signals the attack. They sprint for the trees while screams fill the air behind them, screams so terrible she’s grateful when the cannon sounds and puts Glimmer out of her misery.

Denali jumps for a tree branch but she’s not quick enough--a wolf sinks its teeth into her calf, her leg burning with pain as the wolf tears through it. Shifting her weight to one hand, she grabs an arrow and jams it in the wolf’s eye, hauling herself up after it falls. More wolves scratch at the tree, but she’s safe for now. She has to stop the bleeding but her vision is blurry—

“Denali, it’s okay.” Rosé holds her up, positioning them both on a branch. “Please stay awake, okay? Please. You have to tell me how to help.”

“Bleeding too much. You have to...stitch it,” Denali mumbles. “Stuff...in my bag.”

“Okay.”

Things blur and Denali’s only aware of Rosé giving her water and painkillers, of Rosé’s gentle hand on her leg, of the needle passing in and out. There’s more water, and food, and Denali opens her eyes to meet Rosé looking at her in worry.

“I stitched it,” she says frantically. “There’s probably stuff wrong internally, but it should hold until the doctors can fix it.”

There’s definitely internal damage; it feels like her last leg injury, and she can barely move her leg without an explosion of pain. Once they win, the doctors can fix it. As if on cue, the wolves retreat and the cannon fires, meaning Cato is gone. Relief and joy slam into her, overtaking the pain, and she reaches for Rosé.

“We won,” she says breathlessly, “we won.”

They hold each other in silence, hearts full of the relief of going home, of being together. It’s over, and there are no words. It’s over, and she can breathe again. She can live again, can create the future she wants.

“Where’s the victory cannon?” Rosé pulls away after a minute.

“Maybe--maybe it’s late. Or maybe we should get out of the tree,” Denali says, but trumpets sound as she hits the grass with a wince, and her stomach twists like snakes. Why is there an announcement when the hovercraft should be arriving to get them?

“The earlier revision has been revoked,” the announcer says cheerfully. “The rules hold that only one winner is allowed. May the odds be ever in your favor.”

Denali can’t move. She’s numb and cold and even the pain fades. She should have known. The Gamemakers were never going to let them both survive, not when putting two teammates against each other is the most dramatic finale in history. She wants to scream, wants to fight, but she can’t. All her talk about being more than just a piece of the Games--she played right into their hands, growing close to Rosé, believing they could have the futures they dreamt of.

Rosé is shaking beside her, shaking with fear and pure rage.

“Rosé,” Denali tries, but her mouth is too dry.

“I should’ve known,” Rosé spits. She tears her hands through her hair, breath coming in frantic spurts, vulnerable and undone. She's never seen Rosé like this, and it hurts her heart. “I should’ve known, I should’ve known…” Rosé trails into sobs, shaky hands clutching at her jacket like it can hold her together.

If Denali were to listen to the cold part of her, she’d see that Rosé is defenseless and in shock, an easy target. But that part was created by the Games, and it isn’t her anymore. After resigning herself to the cold for so long, Rosé has brought a summer’s warmth, and though the cold and dark still exist, it doesn’t mean there isn’t light.

“There--there has to be another way.” It’s what Denali’s built her life on, searching for new ways to help a tribute survive, to stop the Games from hurting her again. But none have ever worked.

“There’s no other way, Denali.” Rosé is still trembling, but she stands up straight, pointing below her lion pin, at her heart. “Just don’t miss,” she says, laughing bitterly, humorlessly.

“Rosé, what are you--I’m not killing you!” Denali shakes her head frantically, trying to calm her heart.

“You heard the announcement. It has to be one of us. I’d rather it be quick than get torn apart by those wolves.” Rosé sounds so small, so tired. She’s been cheated and destroyed by these Games before, and she doesn’t have it in her to do it again. She’s giving up, and that scares Denali more than anything, jolting her out of her numbness. She knows how much Rosé wants to live--they both do, talked about it together. The only way to live is to kill the other, and living with that wouldn’t be much of a life.

“No,” Denali says. “I’m not killing you. You have your sisters, you have a family. I don’t.”

“That doesn’t make your life worth less than mine,” Rosé says firmly. “You do stuff, I barely leave the house—“

“That doesn’t make your life worth less either. Look, if those wolves come back, you have a better shot than me. I’m not going anywhere on this leg.”

Rosé sighs. “You have to go home, Denali. You have to live.” Rosé’s lips twitch, and more tears fall. “I’m betting on you.”

I’m betting on you.

The words strike something in Denali’s memory.

Denali’s leg bounces as she waits to enter the launching room. In a few minutes, she’ll be in the arena after years of seeing it through the safety of a screen, and she forces in a strangled breath.

“Everything okay?” Rosé asks.

“Fine,” Denali says. Help with fighting is fine, but getting help for panicking is too embarrassing, even if it’s from someone she knows. Maybe especially because it’s from someone she knows.

Rosé obviously doesn’t believe her, but she nods.

“Wait.” Denali can’t keep it in anymore.

“What is it?”

“Rosé, do you—do you really think I can win?” Denali's convinced herself that she can win all this time, not thinking about whether she really believes it--because she has to believe it, because what’s the alternative? But she wants to know what Rosé thinks, to hear from someone else whether she really has a chance.

Rosé is quiet as she thinks. She’s only twenty, but her eyes are so much older, and Denali realizes that while she’s thought about the joys of returning home, she hasn’t considered the other parts. The parts Rosé has been dealing with every day for the past five years.

“It’ll be hard. I can’t lie about that,” Rosé says finally. “Most of the tributes are bigger, stronger. But you’re tougher. The audience loves you. They’ll help you, and don’t feel embarrassed about taking their help. And you’ve got talent. You’ve got fire.” Rosé smiles hesitantly, and Denali swells with hope. “So I’m betting on you. Denali Foxx, I’ll always bet on you.”

Denali Foxx, I’ll always bet on you.

Denali looks at Rosé now, looks at the love in her eyes, and--

Oh.

Denali understands now. Understands why she’s been thinking of kissing Rosé for days, why her teenage fantasy kissing partner looked like her. Understands why Rosé looks at her in such wonder. Understands why being around her makes Denali’s chest ache from feelings she hasn’t felt in so long. It's not a game anymore.

Denali loves Rosé. And Rosé loves her.

Losing Rosé would be losing part of herself, the part that still hopes. If Denali looks into those green eyes and fires a bow-string, part of her will never leave this arena. She can't kill Rosé, and she can’t go home without her either, can’t give up the future she hopes for with her.

It sparks something in Denali, an idea from the back of her mind. Maybe you can find a loophole, Jan said that day in the Justice Building. If anyone could, it’s you two.

“Rosé, I love you,” Denali says. No matter what happens, she’s not leaving without telling Rosé, without letting her know that the love is returned.

Rosé’s eyes widen, and Denali can tell she knows it’s real. That she really does love her.

“I love you too,” Rosé says.

“I have an idea. Do you trust me?”

“Denali--”

“Do you trust me?”

“With my life,” Rosé says softly, and it’s another way to say I love you.

Denali pulls the nightlock out of her bag. The Games need a victor, or this whole thing blows up in their faces and becomes the worst Games ever. If they can make the Capitol think there won’t be a victor, maybe, just maybe, there’s a shot.

She hands Rosé the berries, and she nods in understanding. “On three,” she says.

“One.”

Denali takes Rosé’s hand, memorizing the softness of it against hers.

“Two.”

Rosé squeezes back, squeezes with all the love and fight she has.

“Three.”

The berries reach their mouths, and Denali is wondering if the Capitol will let them both die when the trumpets erupt.

“Stop! Everyone, I’m happy to present the winners of this year’s Hunger Games--Denali Foxx and Rosé McCorkell!”

#rpdr fanfiction #denali foxx #rosé #rosnali #lesbian au #hunger games au #angst #ever in your favor #athena2 #tw violence #tw blood #concrit welcome

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gentlemancrow · 3 years

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Even though In Scientia, Magicae is on hiatus right now, and likely will be for another week after this >> I thought I would honor my usual update date with a little SNEAK PEEK of what I have brewing for chapter 10! (Hint it’s a dream sequence hehe) Symbolic dream sequences are one of my favorite tropes and favorite things to write so I thought I’d post this one up as a treat! Also to promo the fic a little since in lieu of an actual update :T. SO! Already read the fic? AWESOME! I LOVE YOU <3 I am dragon hoarding all of my readers in a comfy little basket like kittens I will dote on you forever.

New to it or curious? Now’s a great time to catch up! If you like fantasy AUs (And also Beauty and the Beast inspired ones!), vaguely steampunky worldbuilding (Which will factor in a LOT more in the coming chapters!), Monster!Jon, slow burn romance, and a weird treatise on the nature of magic vs. science in a fairy tale inspired setting! Perhaps In Scientia, Magicae is for you!

Clicky here to head on over to AO3!

SMOL Sneak preview of Chapter 10 incoming!

That night, Martin dreamed again.

He fell. He fell, freewheeling, once more through the boundless space that had not let him go just yet. He fell in absentia of fear, as before, serene in the intoxicating cocoon of ozone and stardust. He fell until the atmosphere reached up and gripped him in warm fingers of wind that tugged and pulled to anchor him back to the solid earth waiting below. The lapis lazuli sky streamed around his awareness filled with hollow notes of longing that sounded long enough to hear the chorus once and only once, before it died a soft, muffled death atop the leafy crowns of a canopy of cobalt trees as he passed through them as naught but mist. An echo of a voice without the voice. Alighting on the flooded forest ground, barefoot, the mirror surface of the water rung like percussed crystal and rippled in pulsing silver circles outward where his toes touched down featherlight and afloat on the surface. Martin watched the swells, transfixed, as they scurried away in thinly bright radials and promptly shattered into a kaleidoscope of fractured, resplendent carnage as they collided with another set.

Martin gasped, followed them to the four cloven-hoofed black legs from which they had originated, and looked up, stunned, into a pair of eyes fashioned from bleeding droplets of the aurora borealis. Deep set into the featureless shadow of a stag woven through the pockmarked white birch, they left a dizzying afterburnt trail as it tossed its great antlered head, pawed the reflecting pool, and regarded him in noble silence. Steaming, starlit mist coiled from the nostrils as its heavy breath reverberated the atmosphere from quivering flanks, invisible muscles tensing, waiting. Martin’s heart skipped a beat and his mouth opened to call its name, but it fled from his mind and his tongue the moment they tried to form the sound and shape of it. He frowned and put cold fingers to his lips. He knew it. It was just there, somewhere in the dark periphery of the twilit space between asleep and awake, but he could not dredge up even a filament of its creation to speak it into existence.

The stag shied back with a snort like the ringing of a bell, and bowed its head as if in silent apology. Martin reached out his hand, skin glowing lunar white, and his voice a breathless whisper in his own ears.

“Wait…”

The moment he pierced the sacred grove with the jagged edges of his human tongue, the stag startled and reared as if struck through the throat by a hunter’s shot. The aurora eyes closed, leaving one last streak of pernicious jade green across Martin’s retinas and scoring out the shadow as it turned and bounded, fleet-footed and silent, into the woods.

“Wait-!” Martin called again, tears springing to his dream eyes, “Don’t go!”

Sudden panic rose in his gut, and the forest peeled open around him. He was running. There was no sign of the stag other than the painfully faint ripples in the liquid mercury floor that grew dimmer and further away no matter how hard he forced his legs to move. He wove effortlessly around the wiry trunks of the trees, a brightly shining will-o’-the-wisp leading himself to ruin as he chased the trail of the stag to its extinction. The forest ended when the fragments of light did, and Martin found himself suddenly on the precipice of a towering cliff overlooking a stormy sea. The saline spray crashed into his face as lightning struck soundlessly on the horizon of the churning waters that roiled and tossed the light of a thousand stars and a thousand galaxies stretching in an infinity of purple, green, and blue fires.

Unknowable, unfathomable in their boundlessness and their multitudes, Martin could do nothing but watch them in their cosmic ballet while his body forgot to breathe. Mote by mote, atom by atom, the gravity of the sea picked him apart and sucked the dusty pieces to its unseen singularity somewhere in the trenches beneath. He lifted his trembling hands up, and watched as his fingertips faded and turned to a glittering mist of stardust before his very eyes. They wafted out like smoke over the sea, unspooling him, dragging him with deliberate purpose into whatever it was that lurked beneath. The same voice whispered directly into his ear.

“It is always watching…”

#The Magnus Archives #TMA #Magnuspod #In Scientia Magicae #JonMartin #JMart #Fan fic #Sneak peek #Crow Writes

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helloprettybb · 3 years

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wips

i have a lottttt, in queue so this is just a little preview of some things that are finished and will be posted within this or next month and things that are still being written.

captain idiot

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2.4k

status: completed and will be posted soon

You’ve had a massive crush on Steve ever since you joined the team. Actually, you liked him even before that, when you saw him on TV for the first time. You were only sixteen at the time, but seeing people like you saving New York inspired you. All of your life, you’ve been ostracized and cast out for your abilities. While your parents tried to be supportive, they still held some fear. You don’t blame them, especially after you accidentally split the house in half with a tree.

You were only seventeen when you first met Fury. He offered a position on the team. You wanted to attend college, so you declined, but you kept in touch. After graduating from university three years later, you decided to join the team. Tensions between the team were high as Steve, Natasha and Sam just rejoined the team and the Accords were dropped. But gradually, strain eased and the team seemed back to normal. Tony started talking to Steve and Bucky even joined the group. Everyone lived in harmony, until today.

“I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just be blunt.” Steve states his intense eye contact piercing into your soul. “I like you. More than just a friend.”

You try to remain calm, but you can feel the childish joy rise in your chest. Steadying your tone, you reply, “I like you, too.” For some reason, Steve doesn’t smile but looks more serious.

He sighs and asserts, “I was afraid you’d say that.”

slip of the tongue

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 1.9k

status: completed and will be posted after captain idiot

Bucky makes it back to the Compound, but the pain is getting worse. Stumbling inside, he heads for the labs to look for a medkit. But of course, since it’s his lucky day, you’re there, too. You’re probably finishing the project that you were talking about for the past few weeks - something about particles accelerating, but Bucky didn’t care enough to ask. He hopes he can slip by unnoticed, but the gaping hole in his side draws attention to him.

Your head snaps up from your work and you see Bucky hobble by. “Heya Buck,” you start in your usual playful manner. But when you look at the state he’s in, your attitude changes immediately, “What the fuck happened?”

“It’s nothing.” he grumbles. You look down and see that he’s holding his side. His sweatshirt and fingers are covered in blood.

“Bullshit.” you say. Moving around the lab, you quickly find the medkit. “Sit down.”

“I don’t need your-”

“Shut up and sit down.” you interrupt.

vanilla

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2.1k

status: completed and will be posted after slip of the tongue

“Why do you think I’m boring?” he asks.

“Sorry?” you furrow your brows, confused as to why he randomly showed up at your room and by his question.

“I heard your conversation with Natasha.” Oh shit. “You said sex with me would be boring.”

“Steve, I’m sorry. That was just meaningless talk.” you apologize quickly.

“So you didn’t mean it?” You don’t want to lie, but now that Steve is in front of you, it’s hard to tell him what you really think. You stay silent and Steve seems to understand. “I see.”

You can’t tell if he’s hurt, so you apologize again, “I’m sorry. Honestly, I shouldn’t even think about having sex with my coworkers. That’s weird and I’m sorry to put you in this position-”

“I’m going to prove you wrong.” he interrupts.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m going to prove that sex with me isn’t boring. If the only reason you don’t want to date me is that you think the sex is boring, I’m going to show you you’re wrong.” You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Steve Rogers is offering to have sex with you.

“Steve, you don’t have to do this. If I hurt your ego or something, I’m sorry again, but-”

“It’s not just about my ego. I’ve thought about this for a long time. Not like this, but I have.” Steve just confessed that he liked you. “So, if you want, I can prove you wrong. If you don’t want me to, I can leave and pretend that none of this happened. But I don’t want you to have that misconception in your pretty little head.”

all i see

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 1.4k

status: completed and will be posted after vanilla

He consumes your thoughts all day and night. You hate yourself, truly. You resent your heart for allowing a man to have such a grip on you, but here you are, leaning against your apartment balcony with a cup of tea in your hand. Your tired eyes glance down at the city beneath you. For being the city that never sleeps, New York is pretty quiet at 3 a.m. The cars zooming below you are mostly semi-trucks with the occasional sports car.

You should be asleep, too. But every time you close your eyes, you dip into a dream about him. America’s golden boy, the ultimate patriot, Steve Rogers, your unrequited soulmate. You’re a rather closed-off person, but Steve made you believe it didn’t have to be like that.

“You know you can tell me anything?” he says randomly. It was late and you were at Steve’s apartment with an empty pizza box and a couple of beers. It’s become a sort of routine. Although the food and drink varied, the company never did.

“Yeah, Steve.” You smile, “I know that.” He smiled back at you as if he knew you didn’t completely trust your words.

“I know you’re not really open to people, but I just wanted you to know that,” he adds.

“Thanks, Steve.” you reply and you mean it.

warm me up

mystery of love

pairing: draco malfoy x reader

word count: 1.9k

status: in progress

“Hi, Draco,” you start, knowing it’s him without even looking up. Looking up from your book, you look at Draco for the first time and the smile drops from your first. He does not look good, especially since he seemed to be doing better lately. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he says.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

“I said it’s nothing!” he snaps. Red. All you feel is red, hot, burning anger. But you sense a hollowness to it. His anger is strong, yes. But there’s something else to it.

You furrow your brows and read his body language. His shoulders are hunched and his hands are shaking.

“Can I hold your hand?” you ask.

“What?” A confused, sneer written on his face.

“Draco, you’re shaking. Just let me hold your hand.” you add, “Please.”

enticing

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: about 800

status: in progress

Bucky’s big arm is wrapped around your side and with the blanket strewn across your laps, you’ve never felt more content. You lean your head against his chest and Bucky kisses your forehead. It’s nice and domestic, until a scene starts. You’re thankful that Bucky is behind you and can’t see your widened eyes. The characters are ripping clothes off one after another until they’re practically naked. The man hovers over the woman and cages her between his arms. You can’t help but imagine that being you and Bucky. You feel your face start to heat up as lustful thoughts cloud your mind.

You must be squirming a lot because Bucky asks, “You okay, doll?” You nod against him and continue to watch the scene. Your jaw drops as the characters begin to simulate sex. It’s not the first time you’ve seen a sex scene, but you’ve never watched one with your boyfriend while he was practically wrapped around you.

As you continued to watch, you felt yourself heat up, undeniably turned on. It’s so embarrassing! Here you are trying to have a nice movie night with your boyfriend, yet you can’t control your horniness.

“Buck,” you say quietly.

“What is it, honey?” he asks nicely.

“Can you kiss me?” you ask meekly, like you're scared he’s going to reject you.

tongue so mean

pairing: draco malfoy x reader

word count: about 400

status: in progress

“I hate you.” Draco looks at you with a hard look in his eyes. He has the same frustration and annoyance as when you receive higher marks than him, but something’s different. The usual intense, angry passion that comes with your rivalry is tinged with a different kind of heat. One that equally terrifies and intrigues you. “But I can’t stay away from you anymore.”

You try to hide your surprise, but a small gasp slips out. “Draco?”

“You consume my thoughts. You are first on my mind when I wake and last when I sleep. And I don’t know why, but I can’t live like this anymore.”

“What are you saying?” you ask, even though you know the answer. You just need him to say it out loud.

“Don’t make me say it.” he looks away as if he’s disgusted with his own feelings.

“No,” you move closer, the gap between you two getting smaller. “Say it, Draco.”

Draco scoffs, “You already know.” He’s so close that you can smell hints of his cologne. Traces of musk fill the air, adding to the alluring atmosphere. You’re breathing heavy. His words shouldn’t have that much of an impact on you, but you can’t deny the pleasant images that fill your head as he speaks.

“No, I don’t” you reply, feigning innocence to tick Draco off. “I think you need to be more clear.”

warm me up

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: about 600

status: in progress

“Hey babe, warm my dick up wontcha?” Steve asks right when you walk into his office. You look up from the file that you were sent to give him. Usually files were sent digitally, but since Steve was so terrible at technology, everything was given to him in paper form.

“There are nicer ways of asking that,” you lightly reprimand, walking over to his mahogany desk.

“Can you please sit on my lap and slide that pretty little pussy onto my cock?” Steve asks lowly. You can feel your face going red and heart beating faster. Just last year, Steve wouldn’t be caught dead saying those words, but now it comes so naturally to him. He can sense your flustered reaction as he gently removes the file from your hand and places it on the desk.

You move to straddle his waist and slot each leg over his thighs. Sitting down, you can feel that he’s already semi-hard. “I don’t know. You have a lot of work to do, honey.” you tell him and spare a glance at his desk, which is covered in numerous files. “I think I’d just distract you.”

Steve furrows a brow at your reply, “I won’t be distracted. Promise.” If you weren’t so close to him, you’d laugh at the neediness your super-soldier boyfriend displays. This man, who can rip logs in half and run 13 miles in half an hour without breaking a sweat, is nearly begging you to sit on his cock.

There are some more, but these are the main ones i will be focusing on.

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #draco malfoy #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #draco malfoy x reader #marvel #harry potter #marvel imagines #harry potter imagines

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deathbydarkelves · 3 years

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I decided to make playlists for Cathala and Tarinne plus explanations for why I chose each song because I entered one of those ADHD fugue states and if I didn't finish this task I would die

Anyway here are the two links (they're youtube playlists because I don't have spotify. I would obviously recommend using an adblocker if you're just gonna watch on youtube) and the explanations for each song are below the cut :) Each playlist is about an hour long.

For Tarinne’s:

1. Foggy Nights: I consider this her theme so putting it first as a sort of intro only makes sense.

2. Here’s a Health to the Company: I think this works as an example of her general disposition. She’s a people person, and always a fan of singing these sorts of songs in taverns, on ships, or what have you. It also kind of feels like a sendoff to soldiers, which I imagine symbolizes her joining the Sentinel Army and quickly thereafter fighting in the Third War.

3. Wartime Prayers: Somewhat self-explanatory, this is symbolizing her seeing war for the first time, but I also included it because the last line transitions SO WELL into the next song.

4. The Hollow: This song is an intro to an album I've never heard so I don't know the context, but I really love it because it sounds like someone praying to their deity and like I mean c'mon. Elune. Tarinne's praying to Elune to guide her through the war. Do I need to elabo-

5. Wave Walker: KILL DEATH MAIM AHAHAHAHA

6. Isil Elun’falo: Just a super rad fan-made night elf song that's basically "wow we sure do love Elune" said in twenty different ways for four and a half minutes. But it ROCKS and I LOVE it.

7. Chewing Cotton Wool: This song is about losing a loved one (I did have to check but yeah that's what it is) and I use it to symbolize Tarinne losing her mom during the war. The last line, which includes the song's title, I especially like. It's referring to how morticians (apparently) put cotton gauze in a corpse's throat and mouth to keep body fluids in and make the face look more natural. So there's a fun fact for you.

8. See U Soon (Song for Dad): Just a short lofi piece to rest a bit, and it was also chosen because the title's in reference to Tarinne growing closer to her dad after losing her mom. She still visits him at his leathers and furs shop in Stormwind fairly often, especially after dangerous adventures. She just wants to make sure he knows she's alright ;-;

9. No Lullaby: Right back into it with a song that I use to represent Tarinne's general feeling of not being able to go home because it's not there anymore. She's felt like this since the end of the Third War, but it's especially strong since the whole Teldrassil thing. But I like the ending, "who said you're on your own," because it contrasts the repeating of "alone" in the rest of the song. And it's kinda like "hey, listen, you're not the only one who feels like she can't go home." I mean that's probably how basically every single night elf feels right now skxnks

10. The Moss: This song juxtaposes classic fairy tales with scientific facts about the world and I love it to BITS. I'm using it here to represent both Tarinne's love for storytelling but also her sort of... part-time historian/archaeologist/conservator career.

11. Rasputin: I just associate this song with her for some reason and this was the best place to put it.

12. Electric Feel: Moving on to focus more on Tarinne's relationship with Cathala now. This is an extremely great and somewhat 😏 song that I also included because the electricity theme is appropriate because Cathala has lightning powers and y'know it's from Tarinne's perspective or whatever.

13. Bedroom Hymns: You know why this is here.

14. Movement: I can't talk about love songs without talking about Hozier, okay. This is just a nice, slower song to relax a bit with.

15. Never Let Me Go: I have an entire goddamn music video in my head with Cathala and Tarinne for this song and it’s very dramatic and emotional and I had to include this song or I’d die. Basically just listen to near the end of this song when she's repeating the title over and over, and imagine the two of them seeing each other at opposite ends of a battlefield after the dust settles and they rush towards each other and fall to their knees holding on as tightly as they can because they got separated early on and each thought the other was dead. Then you'll know how I feel when I listen to this song.

16. Nothing That Has Happened So Far Has Been Anything We Could Control: First of all I love the title, and second of all there's a big section in the middle (1:49 to 2:47) that I like to interpret as the two of them grappling with the fact that they're not really quite sure who or what they're fighting for anymore. Their people, yeah, but there's so many alliances and semi-permanent enemies and only-on-every-other-thursday-enemies all intertwined and the world is just so very confusing and they're trying to make the best of it. Elf school didn’t include international, interracial politics in its curriculum. It did however include how to properly plant trees, and AP calculus (this is a joke).

17. In Dreams: I like to imagine this song is something the two of them would say to each other, as a way of saying “even when everything we know is gone, even when the world ends, I will still be by your side. And if I’m not, don’t fear, for I will find you.” It makes a nice note to end on :)

For Cathala’s:

1. muse: Just a nice lofi intro to get us into things :) I don't see this song as her theme, like I do with Tarinne and the first song in her playlist, but I like it quite a bit. I don't actually really have a theme for Cathala yet, I'm currently going with a version of Way of the Monk from WoW's OST but I'm still looking for something better.

2. Frogs Singing: I included this because it's about just appreciating nature, which works because night elf and also mindfulness and meditation is a whole thing.

3. Tongues: This is a song about feeling distant from your peers which is like Cathala's whole existence! She's this weird mix of two cultures and ultimately she feels out of place regardless of where she is or who she's with. Also the theme with not understanding what people are saying works because the poor woman had to learn Pandaren from scratch and that shit ain't easy. I think blizz said somewhere probably that Common is just a language that EVERYONE knows inherently because Video Game but that's bullshit in my opinion. I'll allow spells that let you understand foreign languages to an extent (Comprehend Languages from D&D lets you understand the LITERAL meaning only, which I like), but every culture and species in the universe knowing Common is silly if you think about it for more than two seconds.

4. Kung Fu Fighting: I'm legally required to include this song. Also I prefer the Kung Fu Panda version, I'm sorry.

5. Harder Better Faster Stronger: I vicariously experience having a great work ethic through Cathala and that's why this song is here because she has 999 Determination and does Too Many push-ups every day or something idk. I was gonna say "every morning" but I have a headcanon that elves only need to sleep every couple of days (sort of a nod to "elves don't need to sleep at all" from D&D, and to explain why NIGHT elves are active at all hours of the day) so that doesn't work.

6. What's Up Danger: This song is Cathala's whole Vibe. Almost zero threat assessment skills in this woman's brain. If it can be punched, she will punch it.

7. Eye for an Eye: Fairly self-explanatory, it's a song about wanting revenge so... yeah. Checked that box. It was this or The Vengeful One by Disturbed but ultimately The Vengeful One's religious symbolism probably makes it fit better as a Tyrande theme lol ("I'm the hand of god, I'm the dark messiah." Did you mean: the Night Warrior)

8. Survivor: Cathala's survived a lot of shit and this could kinda be her making fun of herself for it because "Gods, man! Don't I deserve a break!"

9. Ashes: Really the reason I include this song is the last chunk (2:42 to the end) because holy shit. Listen, if I was gonna include a song with fire motifs, it was gonna be a somber one like this.

10. Into the West: This can kinda represent Cathala just trying to fucking breathe and recover from Teldrassil. Also works because I dunno it has stuff to do with the elves in LotR, I haven't seen those movies in a while. It sounds nice and is melancholy so I included it.

11. Like Real People Do: Cathala loves Tarinne a lot you guys have I ever menti-

12. Into the Wild: Tarinne changed Cathala's world for the better and she's super fucking grateful she has her by her side. Kinda goes without saying but you know.

13. Chasing the Moon: I have a vague music video in my head for this of them falling in love and it's very cute so there's that. Also it's in this specific spot because hey she may be deeply traumatized but she's still got a fair number of things/people in her life that make her happy so :)

14. Follow My Girl: I've got a theme going in my head that while Tarinne is fairly certain of her place in the world, Cathala is still trying to find hers. She outlived all her connections on Pandaria because Elf Lifespans(tm) and the only members of her family still alive are distant relatives she never knew very well.

15. Wish That You Were Here: This works both to represent Cathala on Pandaria feeling super homesick, and for more recently after Teldrassil. Either way, it's a message to her parents and sister.

16. Mr. Fear: She does her damnedest to hide it but she's absolutely terrified something like Teldrassil's gonna happen again! That fear drives her to do everything in her power to protect who and what she can. As long as they're not Forsaken, cause she's still got her biases, that compassion even extends across faction lines. She never really got the whole Alliance/Horde thing anyway. Innocent people shouldn't have to die, regardless of who or what they are.

17. Ordinary Day: Not to get super out there but I think this song works as symbolizing Cathala really trying to hold on to her faith in Elune, but ultimately feeling pretty abandoned. I mean she can clearly see Elune's influence everywhere. But Elune sure ain't doing Cathala any favors as far as she can tell! It also ends the whole playlist on maybe a bit of an uncertain/open-ended note, because this "losing faith" aspect is a new thing with her and will definitely be something she continues to struggle with for a while. On a related note, I should say Tarinne is still very much devout but she gets what Cathala's feeling and doesn't force anything on her, and vice versa. And Cathala wouldn't become atheist, the night elves aren't monotheistic and she still worships all the other deities, it's just specifically Elune she's a little :/ on.

#cathala #tarinne #oc playlist

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gtunesmiff · 3 years

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YOUR SUNDAY SERVICE

The Ballad of Blasphemous Bill

BY ROBERT W. SERVICE

I took a contract to bury the body of blasphemous Bill MacKie, Whenever, wherever or whatsoever the manner of death he die — Whether he die in the light o’ day or under the peak-faced moon; In cabin or dance-hall, camp or dive, mucklucks or patent shoon; On velvet tundra or virgin peak, by glacier, drift or draw; In muskeg hollow or canyon gloom, by avalanche, fang or claw; By battle, murder or sudden wealth, by pestilence, hooch or lead — I swore on the Book I would follow and look till I found my tombless dead. For Bill was a dainty kind of cuss, and his mind was mighty sot On a dinky patch with flowers and grass in a civilized boneyard lot. And where he died or how he died, it didn’t matter a damn So long as he had a grave with frills and a tombstone “epigram.” So I promised him, and he paid the price in good cheechako coin (Which the same I blowed in that very night down in the Tenderloin). Then I painted a three-foot slab of pine: “Here lies poor Bill MacKie,” And I hung it up on my cabin wall and I waited for Bill to die. Years passed away, and at last one day came a squaw with a story strange, Of a long-deserted line of traps ’way back of the Bighorn range, Of a little hut by the great divide, and a white man stiff and still, Lying there by his lonesome self, and I figured it must be Bill. So I thought of the contract I’d made with him, and I took down from the shelf The swell black box with the silver plate he’d picked out for hisself; And I packed it full of grub and “hooch,” and I slung it on the sleigh; Then I harnessed up my team of dogs and was off at dawn of day. You know what it’s like in the Yukon wild when it’s sixty-nine below; When the ice-worms wriggle their purple heads through the crust of the pale blue snow; When the pine-trees crack like little guns in the silence of the wood, And the icicles hang down like tusks under the parka hood; When the stove-pipe smoke breaks sudden off, and the sky is weirdly lit, And the careless feel of a bit of steel burns like a red-hot spit; When the mercury is a frozen ball, and the frost-fiend stalks to kill — Well, it was just like that that day when I set out to look for Bill. Oh, the awful hush that seemed to crush me down on every hand, As I blundered blind with a trail to find through that blank and bitter land; Half dazed, half crazed in the winter wild, with its grim heartbreaking woes, And the ruthless strife for a grip on life that only the sourdough knows! North by the compass, North I pressed; river and peak and plain Passed like a dream I slept to lose and I waked to dream again. River and plain and mighty peak — and who could stand unawed? As their summits blazed, he could stand undazed at the foot of the throne of God. North, aye, North, through a land accurst, shunned by the scouring brutes, And all I heard was my own harsh word and the whine of the malamutes, Till at last I came to a cabin squat, built in the side of a hill, And I burst in the door, and there on the floor, frozen to death, lay Bill. Ice, white ice, like a winding-sheet, sheathing each smoke-grimed wall; Ice on the stove-pipe, ice on the bed, ice gleaming over all; Sparkling ice on the dead man’s chest, glittering ice in his hair, Ice on his fingers, ice in his heart, ice in his glassy stare; Hard as a log and trussed like a frog, with his arms and legs outspread. I gazed at the coffin I’d brought for him, and I gazed at the gruesome dead, And at last I spoke: “Bill liked his joke; but still, goldarn his eyes, A man had ought to consider his mates in the way he goes and dies.” Have you ever stood in an Arctic hut in the shadow of the Pole, With a little coffin six by three and a grief you can’t control? Have you ever sat by a frozen corpse that looks at you with a grin, And that seems to say: “You may try all day, but you’ll never jam me in”? I’m not a man of the quitting kind, but I never felt so blue As I sat there gazing at that stiff and studying what I’d do. Then I rose and I kicked off the husky dogs that were nosing round about, And I lit a roaring fire in the stove, and I started to thaw Bill out. Well, I thawed and thawed for thirteen days, but it didn’t seem no good; His arms and legs stuck out like pegs, as if they was made of wood. Till at last I said: “It ain’t no use — he’s froze too hard to thaw; He’s obstinate, and he won’t lie straight, so I guess I got to — saw.” So I sawed off poor Bill’s arms and legs, and I laid him snug and straight In the little coffin he picked hisself, with the dinky silver plate, And I came nigh near to shedding a tear as I nailed him safely down; Then I stowed him away in my Yukon sleigh, and I started back to town. So I buried him as the contract was in a narrow grave and deep, And there he’s waiting the Great Clean-up, when the Judgment sluice-heads sweep; And I smoke my pipe and I meditate in the light of the Midnight Sun, And sometimes I wonder if they was, the awful things I done. And as I sit and the parson talks, expounding of the Law, I often think of poor old Bill — and how hard he was to saw. w.

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malecsecretsanta · 4 years

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Merry Christmas, cloudburst-ink!

For @cloudburst-ink <3

Read On AO3

*****

Shards Of Winter

The high croon of whipping winds and the frosty chill of the night air signal the beginning of winter on a normally quiet Thursday evening for Alec Lightwood.

Sat by the window, warm forehead pressed to the contrast of cold glass that spreads a delightful tremble down his spine, Alec watches the night descend with the twinkle of stars in the sky and flutters of snowflakes on their way from high above. It’s a sight he cherishes every year, a new snowfall, a new story, a new adventure.

A new chance to find his soulmate.

Faded, but still there on his wrist lies his soulmark, a pale white snowflake with a blush of blue on the branches. Someone out there, perfectly complementary in all the way he hopes, in all the ways he imitates late in the evening when the desires for touch and the longing of love overcome him. The press of fingers against his skin, the chilling voice that whispers ice against his ears and wracks his body with tremors, the almost forgotten flash of glowing green that still lingers in the back of his mind. It calls to him on nights like this, the first snowfall, and Alec knows they’re connected.

It has to be magic that pulls him in. Magic, in all it’s raw and delightful glory, slithers in tendrils around each finger, digit by digit until it’s grasping at his wrist and pulling him out into the night.

And this is no different, because where the warmth of his body heat had pressed against him and soothed the cold now swishes frosty air in the emptiness as he stands out in the falling snow, beckoned by the call of hope.

Hope, the kind to summon light from the darkest of days, the same one that fuels every action and choice. The same hope that he holds close to his heart that he’ll find his soulmate soon, that they’re closer this year than the last. The same kind of hope that so many people in his small town have lost for him because of the way his mark fades against the white of his skin more and more every year.

But their thoughts don’t matter to Alec, and instead of dwelling on the worries of others that have already been matched, he sets his eyes up to the sky and lets the vision of snowflakes calm the physical manifestations of the cold from his body.

Out here he feels free. Encased in the silent affection of what’s meant to be, surrounded by the delicate winter that presses the first cold kiss to his cheek. A droplet slides down the side of his face as it dissolves into wetness, and then another against his nose. Eyes fall shut, the flutter of lashes as a snowflake descends gently onto it, a succession of loving pecks along his greedy skin that soaks it all up.

A whistle then, a trilling melody that the snowfall sings to him, and a hum as Alec sings along.

This feels right, this feels fated. It feels magical.

Eyes flutter open, hazel to absorb the blinding white that drifts closer and closer still.

Time seems to halt in the presence of magic, slowing to a blur. The snow trickles down, covers his vision until he feels it pierce his sight, feels it spread through his being and invade deep into his core. Magic, darker than the flash of snow, darker and heavier than the hope that spills out of him every morning and evening.

It doesn’t hurt, not until the confusion dissipates and leaves Alec feeling hollow and frozen. Only then does his eye twitch, and only then does he fall to his knees onto the damp grass before him with a cry of anguish and a hand to soothe the ache in his skull.

But it doesn’t work.

No matter how hard he digs blunt fingertips into his socket, or how tightly he curls his fist around the blades below him, the pain continues to pulse and gnaw.

It isn’t until his sister is calling his name and guiding him back into the house blindly that he starts to feel some relief, that the cold sunk deep in his bones seems to thaw with the heat of the fireplace.

---

When Alec awakes in the morning, it’s with a thudding migraine and aching joints that are only exacerbated by the scratchy sheets of his blanket. Water seems to fill his head, sloshing and drowning his thoughts until all he wants to do is paint the windows black so the harsh sunlight can’t sneak through the cracks and blind him further.

His name, whispered softly from the opening of the door is still too loud, and his sister’s face greets him with worry. “Are you feeling any better?”

“No,” he manages, barely a croak. “I feel like shit.”

“What happened last night?”

A question he has no answer for, because if he’s being honest (and Alec is never anything but), he has no idea. “I’m not sure,” he shrugs, “the snow fell in my eyes.”

Izzy steps closer and tilts his chin up with uncertain fingers, examining any damage she may believe him to have suffered. Under any other circumstance, Alec would have let her. Usually his sister’s care for him makes his chest bloom with fondness, even if it borders on fussy and unnecessary. But this - this just feels wrong. Her fingers on his skin feel too warm and uncomfortable, the scrutiny in her gaze feels malicious and her gentle touches too rough.

He pulls away in a rush and tries not to catch her frown in his peripheral. “Let me be, Izzy.”

“But Alec - “

“Go away!”

She doesn’t have to speak for him to feel the hurt that radiates off of her, and he doesn’t have to see her face to know it’s furrowed in confusion. But the part that triggers a spark of worry in the recesses of his mind is the lack of shame he feels in letting her leave the room like that. The lack of anything but callous indifference and low-burning annoyance.

---

The days that pass grow darker in Alec’s vision, days that once held a purpose and thoughts of a brighter future, a different future with the search of his soulmate, now hold stifling monotony.

He doesn’t want every day to be the same, he doesn’t want to sit around and wait for his soulmate to show up and whisk him away. He’s stronger than that. This small town filled with people’s pity and whispered gossip grate on him like the bright light of the sun that stings his eyes and he can no longer control the snap of snark from his lips when he comes across it.

Days are lonelier with Izzy keeping her distance, his only companion while Jace and Max are still visiting their parents. Even Lydia, his calm rock and pleasant tide of positivity in his day-to-day routine has kept him at an arm's length. Alec can’t blame her, it had only taken a half hour in her presence for him to realize the blind optimism and strict work ethic was bullshit and she was clearly trying to cover her own insecurity from losing a soulmate at such a young age.

The world has changed for him, and if nobody else can see all the bad that really surrounds them, then is that really his fault? Just because people don’t want to open their eyes to the true nuisance that haunts them all in the form of ‘soulmates’, if they refuse to accept that dark magic is what weighs above them and promises true love… Is Alec the bad guy for seeing it all so clearly?

No, he won’t be ostracized for being the only one to see, the only one to really look.

---

Outside of his small home, the wind shrieks foreboding, boiling water in a kettle high and warning. But Alec won’t listen, because as the sole of his boot sinks into the crunch of white snow beneath him, he remembers the sparks of green from visions before. The hint of a voice he knows calling him out into the dark of night, out into the flurry of white that offers comfort from the life he thought he wanted.

The winter, his favorite time of the year, the time that crooned hope into his dreams, that gave him visions of a future expected and believed, it pulls him close in its embrace. It wraps him up in freezing arms, a stoney embrace of what he knows and what he wants. The love he needs is here, following this path, and all Alec has to do is walk forward.

But something is pulling him back, something is planting his foot into the lush ground beneath.

Izzy.

A grip on his wrist, rough and tight against his skin where the sleeve of his glove and the hem of his jacket expose his soulmark. His sister tugs and tugs, but she makes no progress as Alec twists his arm from her grasp.

“Alec, we’re in the middle of a blizzard, what are you doing?!”

“I don’t belong here,” he calls out, but Izzy either doesn’t hear his words, or she chooses to ignore them.

“You need to come back inside, you’re going to get hurt!”

Another step, another cry from his sister. He can hear her scrabbling behind him, can hear her hurried footsteps as she rushes to keep up with him. The woods are close now, another step and he’s breaching the top of the hill with his sister still fumbling in the cold behind him. He wonders if he remembers what it feels like to have worry or care, if he can pretend to feel these things for her now.

But he doesn’t, not anymore. The only thing that fills the cavern of his heart is the cold winter, the helplessness of his destiny being lost on him, magic pulsing into his arteries and feigning life.

The further he goes into the woods, the louder the magic rushes through his ears. Izzy’s voice is no longer a distant wail in the background, now only the whizzing of snow pelting him sounds around him, and it’s almost too much.

Alec grips the bark of a tree, hard and snagging on the material of his gloves, but the support gives his shaky knees some relief. Just a little longer, just a little further. Keep going.

“Are you sure that’s really what you want to do?”

The twinkle of a voice chimes in the night, a mimicry of the snow in his visions. Alec turns left, then right, and then his eyes catch on shimmering green behind him.

Is this… a dream? Is he asleep? Has he fallen into the snow and this is his last thought before he becomes frozen in the woods?

Elegant shimmering iridescence of a crystalline crown and swirling gold-green eyes contrasting the backdrop of night meet him first. Time seems to refuse passing in this presence, akin to the night Alec caught snow, and as much as he wants to drag his eyes away, to take in any other sort of threat or danger besides the freezing ice around him, he can’t.

“You’ll die out here if you keep on that path,” the presence calls out, and without a sound and unaffected by the blizzard around them, they step closer.

“I don’t care,” Alec murmurs, wondering if his voice gets lost in the howl of the wind. It must not, because as the figure steps close enough for Alec to make out any features, he’s rewarded with a beautiful face marred by a small frown tugging down on plump lips.

And oh, what a change this is to feel anything other than emptiness inside of him. How different it is to feel a twist of attraction, to note that something in this world is beautiful, is deserving of his praise. Even if it is a stranger in the middle of a blizzard.

“You may not care, Alexander,” the man begins, traveling closer still until he’s standing in front of Alec. As tall as he wants to stand, as much as he’s used to towering over people he finds his weight shifting instinctively, he feels himself sinking into the slush beneath him. It’s cold and he feels the seeping chill in his bones, feels his teeth chattering of their own free will as he peers up at the glow of beauty before him. “But I do,” he whispers, bending down to press a single soft kiss to Alec’s welcoming lips.

Warmth floods him, maybe not actual warmth, but the cold pulls from the deepest parts of him and fades away, releases itself through his pores and out of existence. Alec, chin tilted upwards and lips parted, opens the eyes he hadn’t even realized he had closed.

Those eyes smile down at him, a hypnotic swirl Alec longs to get lost in. Maybe he does, he’s not sure how long he’s on the ground for, he doesn’t even feel the throb in his knees from extended use. But there’s a fluttering in his hair now, cold fingers that press against his scalp and twirl around strands, and Alec can’t help but lean into the touch, so starved from weeks of anger and animosity towards anyone who would ever come near him.

“Who are you?”

The fingers in his hair don’t stop, but trail lower to brace the delicate point of his chin and tilt his head to the side. A gentle puff of air brushes against the side of his face and Alec struggles to contain the shivers that tremble down his body.

“Magnus.”

Alec tastes the word on his tongue, feels the tingle as he says it aloud with reverence. Magnus, he wants to say again. Magnus, please.

A rush travels through him, blood working in overtime to keep him warm, to keep him alive, and it overcomes his mind. “Close your eyes,” Magnus hums above him, and Alec listens. “Let’s take you home.”

Alec wants to protest, but when he opens his lips he’s silenced with a calming finger. Sleep descends on him then in the cold night, and the last thing he feels is the press of Magnus’ long white winter coat soft against his skin, sheltering him from the frostbite that threatens to take him.

---

Sleep doesn’t come easy for Alec.

It’s not that the plush luxuriousness of the bed he finds himself in is uncomfortable. On the contrary, it’s far superior than the bed he left back home. What nips at him in the dark midnight is the fact that he left his only sister struggling in the cold, and he still feels nothing.

Confusion hits him, for where there remains a hole in his heart for compassion and guilt, it’s simultaneously filled with overwhelming growing attraction to Magnus, burning brighter and stronger than anything he’s ever felt before.

But in his mind he knows how he should feel, he knows that he should think fondly of his sister and home, of his little town that he’s helped cultivate memories and a life.

And yet… nothing.

---

Tomorrow comes and goes for Alec in the blink of an eye.

It’s a palace he finds himself in when he finally wanders out of his room to seek out Magnus, and to appease Alec’s curious eyes, Magnus takes him around the grounds.

High ceilings and columns of glass fill his view, chandeliers made of ice, and windows stained with a myriad of blues, pinks and purples. Archways extend, stairs trail higher above and down below, and the view from the balcony is breathtaking when they make their way into the frosty air. It doesn’t feel real, it doesn’t look real, but somehow it is. Somehow this fantasy exists, and Alec would be remiss if he didn’t pinch himself for reassurance that this isn’t just an elaborate dream.

Even Magnus looks ethereal, with the crystal crown high on his head, pale blue eyeshadow around sparkling eyes and long muscled limbs that Alec can make out through the thin white he wears around the palace. Outside on the balcony however, he dons the same white winter coat Alec remembers the night before in the forest, lined with puffed white and a thin layer of shimmer that catches twinkling light when he moves. He looks regal.

“Where are we?” Alec hears himself asking as he leans against the railing overlooking hills and mountains covered in snow.

“We’re in a realm that doesn’t exist to common folk, through a break in the mountains that magic keeps hidden. Sometimes those with the sight wander in, but for the most part only magic folk tend to traverse these parts.”

It’s all said matter-of-fact, with a wave of nonchalance that Alec wonders what he’s stumbled into.

“And who are you in all of this?”

Magnus turns to him with a disapproving frown. “Forgotten my name already, have you?”

Alec rolls his eyes and motions to the palace behind them with a wide gesture. “I mean in all of this, who are you?”

The frown doesn’t falter, instead stays firmly planted on Magnus’ face as he turns around to face the grandeur of his own palace.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of the Snow Queen,” Magnus starts, pausing only to wait for a nod of agreement from Alec. It’s been years, but he remembers the stories. “Her name was Lilith, this used to be hers until she was banished several hundred years ago. She ruled over the winters, she controlled the season and consequently became hungry with power. She would steal people in the blizzards, in the night when nobody would notice. But people eventually did notice. My father, particularly. He came to conquer her authority, and in the end he won.”

Magnus trails off for a moment, as if remembering. “Lilith, at the end of it all, was corrupted. She couldn’t see the good in what she had created anymore, couldn’t see anything that was just and fair. She only saw the dark, only saw what was ‘rightfully hers’, and didn’t care about maintaining secrecy. With her last breath in this realm she shattered her crystal staff and descended her darkness on those who she deemed vulnerable. Every year, the first snowfall leads to darkness for some, something only light magic can cure.”

The pain in Magnus’ voice feels tangible, and Alec has to clench his fists to stop himself from reaching out. “Is that what happened to me?”

A hum, soft and distant as though Magnus is in another place, and then a nod. “Yes,” he admits. “You fell prey to Lilith’s dark magic, despite my attempts to warn you.”

“Warn - warn me?” Alec stutters.

Magnus turns to face him fully then, eyes piercing and narrowed. “Was it not a warning every winter for you to stay away from the first snowfall?”

Like a sputtering fish, Alec’s lips fall open and shut, once, then twice. “So it was you?”

“Who else would it be?”

“I-I’m not… sure,” Alec shrinks into himself, shoulders hunched and eyes cast downward towards the snow below them. “I thought - I hoped it was you calling to me, trying to reach out and find me… my soulmate.”

Silence wraps around them, slow and gentle, prodding hope from where it sprouts back into life inside of Alec. Carefully, Magnus reaches over to run silver polished nails along Alec’s hand until he’s extending his palm face up.

“You’re right,” Magnus says softly, fingers tracing the pattern of the faded snowflake on Alec’s wrist. “I was trying to reach you, but I needed to keep you safe, Alexander. I wanted to warn you before it was too late, but I failed anyway. I wasn’t able to help you afterall.”

Alec frowns and turns to face Magnus, whose hands continue to trace his skin, entirely too distracting. “But you did. I felt the darkness, I lost hope, I - I stopped - “

Magnus silences him with a look. “I didn’t protect you like I wanted to, not fully. I messed up, and I’m paying the price for it now.”

“What price?”

A smile, so sad and full of answers fills Magnus’ features, and Alec wishes he could decipher it all, wishes he could ease the sorrow so prominent. “To see you, to have you so close, and know that this can never be. Not as long as I’m here.”

The desire to reach out and touch Magnus, to sink before him and beg him to let this be, to let Alec stay so they can be together is so strong that Alec has to forcibly grip the banister of the balcony to keep his hands in place. Magnus notices, of course he does, but he doesn’t comment on it.

“Alexander,” he trails, glancing at the scene before them, the beautiful snow pristine and untouched on mountaintops no higher than the top of the palace. “As long as my father is still banished with Lilith to keep her at bay, I must stay here and watch over the winter.”

“Then I’ll stay with you,” Alec shrugs as if he’s solved the problem. “You’re my soulmate.”

Magnus sighs. “I can’t be, not anymore. Haven’t you noticed how faded your mark has become? It’ll disappear eventually, as long as I’m required. And no, you can’t stay here with me.”

“Why not?” Alec huffs, indignant.

“You have a family,” Magnus explains. “Your sister needs you.”

The guilt he knows should be there never manifests, the gnawing pulse of regret at leaving her behind, none of it forms inside of him. He had just left her, had just run away like a child angry at the world for not giving him what he wanted, angry for being vulnerable enough to fall victim whether he knew it or not. He wonders if he should voice these thoughts aloud, but he chooses not to.

“I need you,” he murmurs, pathetic even by his own standards.

Lightly, Magnus steps closer, offering a small hint of a smile through the stern look on his face. “You have me,” he says into the small space between them as he lifts a hand to Alec’s chest, pressing insistent fingers to the spot where his heart beats rapidly. “Right here, Alexander. Always.”

He wonders if it’s enough to keep Magnus in his heart, the soulmate he’s been waiting for, the other half of him he didn’t know he needed this much until now. He wonders if he can survive without him, without even knowing him more than the flimsy hours around the palace and on the balcony.

At the very least, he needs more time.

---

Magnus allows Alec a few days' time before he has to return home, and Alec soaks it all up in time spent at Magnus’ side.

They talk about everything. Magnus explains light magic and dark magic, glosses over the bits he deems boring, and from there they develop different theories on how to free Asmodeus from Lilith’s banishment. Her dark shards from the snowfall still hold her power, and Magnus has theorized that destroying one of them would negate enough of her magic that Asmodeus may be able to escape her clutches. Without a way to test it, however, it remains just wishful thinking.

So they turn to displays of magic, and Magnus delights in showing Alec small tricks with the flick of his wrist and flecks of glitter that fall to the ground when he snaps his fingers. Magnus, by all regards, is the most magical being Alec has ever seen in his life.

The only one, really, but that’s beside the fact.

Magnus is… incredible. Perfect, even. Magnus tells him tales of witches and warlocks, tells him stories of the past and famous figures that Alec never knew existed, but can tell of their importance from just Magnus’ recounting. He finds himself hanging off of every word Magnus says, mooning after each sway of his hips in the thin material of his pants, and eyes stuck when his shirt falls open to reveal a sliver of the chest beneath.

Alec wants him, he realizes quickly. More than he’s wanted anyone or anything before. There’s a pull between them, undeniable when they stand close, and excruciating when they’re far apart in separate rooms. It’s unwise to think Magnus doesn’t feel it too, because if the wistful looks Magnus shoots his direction are anything to go by, he’s struggling to stay away just as much as Alec is.

It’s on the last night Magnus has allowed them that Alec finds himself dropping to his knees in front of Magnus who sits before him on his throne of ice, a plea on his brow and a whimper on his lips.

“Magnus, please,” he whispers, bowing his head.

“Please what, Alexander?”

The force and strength in Magnus’ voice sends a thrill down Alec’s spine, and he presses his palms into his knees to steady himself. “I need you,” he breathes. “I need more than this.”

The halls around them seem too quiet, an impossible hush befalling the empty palace with the sound of the hammering in his chest being the only noise in Alec’s ears. Finally, after several powerful seconds, Magnus stands before him. “Look at me.”

Immediately, Alec’s focus snaps up to Magnus above him, intoxicatingly beautiful.

“Alexander,” Magnus says, the glowing pierce of his gold-green eyes penetrating Alec’s stare.

“Y-Yes,” he responds, breathless.

“Stand up.”

Perplexed, Alec does as he’s told and rises to his feet quickly. Magnus levels him with a stare that Alec can read clear as day in front of him. Confusion, anger, sadness, longing… All of it so apparent, so openly shown to him, and yet Magnus is resisting.

“You’re going home soon,” Magnus states.

Brow furrowed, Alec shakes his head. “I want to stay here with you.”

“Alexander,” Magnus sighs his name, exasperated in nature but still said in a way that makes Alec’s legs tremble. “You can’t. You belong back at home, you belong in the real world.”

“I belong with you,” Alec snaps, balling his fists at his side. “You’re my world.”

Stunned wide eyes peer back at him, and if Alec could feel anything other than this desperate longing for Magnus, he knows he’d feel embarrassed at his outburst. But he means it, he feels it. This is what he wants, what he needs, just Magnus.

“Just,” he chokes on the word. “At least kiss me. Just once.”

At that, Magnus casts his gaze aside and frowns. “I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?”

A shake of his head, perfectly crafted strands of black and blue swaying with the motion, and then Magnus is stepping away from Alec. “I kissed you once, in the blizzard,” Magnus explains. “Twice would remove your memories of your old life, free to fill with whatever I desire or command. And a third would kill you.”

The words hang between them, the implications heavy and the appeal entirely too enticing to Alec at the prospect of Magnus practically handing them their chance together on a silver platter. “Then kiss me, make me forget.”

Magnus laughs, loud and sarcastic and unbefitting the magical entity presents himself as in that moment.

“I will not. You deserve your free will, you deserve a chance to live, I will not take that from you, and I will not let you waste away at my every beck and call.” Before Alec can protest, Magnus silences him with a raised finger. “We have company.”

The click of heels along glass, the sound of them scraping the ice below in a wincing grind irks Alec's nerves, makes him grimace and turn to face the intruder.

Long black locks and deep brown eyes greet him when he turns to see his sister’s face, and the annoyance that swells within him rises to the surface.

“Izzy, what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to save you,” she manages through gasps of air, the adrenaline seeming to fade with every lungful. “I’m bringing you home.”

“How did you - “

“I gave her the sight,” Magnus interrupts. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t choose to leave on your own, so I called in reinforcements, so to speak.”

Alec scoffs, anger striking hot the fire inside of him that sparks to life. “I finally found my soulmate after all these years, and even he doesn’t want me.”

Izzy’s confused lilt of “Soulmate?” is drowned out by the rush of Magnus rounding on Alec in his own rise of anger, looming over him in a way that Alec tries not to find exciting.

“Do not ever accuse me of not wanting you, Alexander,” Magnus growls, leaning so close Alec can feel the harsh breaths on his face. “I fear I want you too much, and I may do something stupid if I’m not incredibly careful with you. But this cannot be as long as my father is trapped with Lilith, please believe me.”

This close, Alec almost caves, almost gives into the temptation to kiss Magnus. This close, he can smell the trickle of winter that radiates off of Magnus. The snow, the trees in the forest, he can smell the blizzard that first night. All of it fills his senses, calms the rage that bellows to take what’s his, what fate has decided he is worthy of. But Magnus’ eyes, surrounded by the same glitter that sparked from his fingertips the nights before when they had sat side by side enjoying each others’ presence, hold a pained resignation that quells the hurt and injustice Alec wants to cry out against.

Slowly, so slowly it almost hurts, Alec takes a step back, and then another. A hand wraps around his wrist, grips the spot that holds his faded soulmark, and tugs gently until he’s walking back out of the throne room with his sister leaving Magnus, a fading vision before him like so many dreams come and gone.

---

The trek back home is filled with silence, so much that the wind hardly swirls around them. It’s calm, serene, full of regret that Alec wishes he could feel but only paves the way for the urge of defiance he has to forcibly tamp down on.

He wonders if Magnus made the trip back easy for them, if he commanded the winds to cease and the snow to stop midair, only to descend once they’ve passed. Izzy says very little, asks questions only when a misstep causes an interaction between them, but even then Alec’s responses are quick and unmotivated.

It isn’t until they reach their home, exhausted and wet from melted snow, that his sister finally cracks.

“That was Magnus,” she begins, hesitant, “and he’s your soulmate?”

Alec nods, not able to manage much more than that when the images of glowing green fill his memories.”Yeah,” he croaks, throat burning from more than the cold air outside.

“He wasn’t some crazy evil guy that stole you away and turned you horrible?”

Taking the moment to try and stifle down the anger and aggravation that starts to kindle itself with its own fire, Alec shakes his head and takes the small living room in as though he has never seen it before. It’s adequate enough. Still too small, too worn, too lived-in. But this is what he’s being forced to choose, and leaving doesn’t seem like such a viable option anymore when the results of that first attempt led him straight back here.

There are arms around him then, soft and comforting and warm. Izzy.

“I’m so sorry, Alec,” she mumbles into his back where her face is pressed and pooling tears onto his clothes. The irritation is swift to draw forth, and he’s about to push her away when the sobs wracking her body stop him short. “I was so scared I had lost you.”

Confliction forms inside of his heart and mind at her words. The darkened part of his mind wants to shove her aside, wants to tell her to stay away from him, that she cost him Magnus. But the part deep in the crevices of his heart where light begins to shine, where he once held so much love and adoration for his sister wants to pull her into his arms and comfort her, to ease her worries for his safety. A battle begins to stir, rages into a storm and whirls around until it becomes a culmination of excruciating pain that builds behind his eyes. Every throb, every sting, every burn, all of it draws a cry of agony from him until he’s sagging to the floor with his sister crying out his name behind him in a familiar display.

The pain seems to last forever, a relentless tide that Alec can’t seem to surface from, and he wonders if this is what he gets for entertaining the thought of staying with Magnus when he didn’t deserve to. He wonders if Magnus can see this, if Magnus knows what’s happening, if Magnus knew this would happen.

The torturous slew of pain continues to rise, more and more, higher still, until finally - finally - it peaks and clatters a small crystal onto the floorboards beneath them. Confused, Izzy moves to pick it up, holding it high to the light to examine what it could be.

“Glass?”

Alec blinks the remnants of the ache from his eyes slowly, breathing labored and Izzy’s hand on his shoulder no longer aggravating the disgust that slowly dissipates from his heart. He turns to his sister, watching her wide-eyed and guilty.

“Izzy,” he gasps, rushing to pull her into a tight hug. “Izzy I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

There are more tears that fall onto his shoulder as they continue to hold each other, Izzy’s watery explanation of the past few weeks, her worries, all the confusion pours out into muffled words against his chest. He soothes the hurt, soothes the pain as best as he can, and hopes that any damage he’s done can be repaired over time.

As freeing as it was to feel no remorse, no regret or sorrow, it’s even more freeing to give into the emotions, to give into basic human decency and begin to patch things back up.

---

They talk for hours, wrapped up in blankets by the fireplace once the tears have subsided, and Alec explains everything that happened after he left her in the blizzard. He speaks of Magnus, of magic and ice palaces. They laugh about some of the tricks Magnus showed him, and sober up at the story of Lilith and Asmodeus.

When Alec talks of their theories, Izzy’s eyes brighten and she retrieves the small shard of glass from the floor.

“Do you think…” She trails off, watching him carefully.

Realization hits Alec, and with an eager nod he gives Izzy the honors of what he hopes to be the right decision.

With a grin on her face, she stomps the small shard between the ground and the heel of her shoe, snuffing out any remnants of dark magic left inside.

---

The good thing about small-town life, Alec tells himself, is that it’s easy to get back into.

After reconciling with his sister, apologies to anyone he wronged when he was infected with dark magic was next on his to-do list. Lydia had welcomed him back with a genuine smile and a warm hug. Maia had punched his arm rather harshly and let him know if he ever acted like that again she wouldn’t hesitate to leave a mark. Simon claimed to notice no difference, but accepted the apology as an extension of friendship that Alec quickly had to retract.

All in all, things were looking up. The next months pass easily enough for the Lightwoods, but sometimes in the dark of night Alec finds himself still waiting by the window, cheek pressed to the cold glass that he wishes was stained blue, wondering if anyone will show. But nobody ever does, and even his dreams leave no possibility of hope. Where Magnus once called to him, once offered the touch of his affection, now he receives nothing.

The mark on his wrist still fades a little more each day. It melts into his skin like a real snowflake, and though Alec longs to feel the touch of the snowfall on his skin in the early mornings, that, too, has ceased. Snowfall comes only at night when Alec is asleep, something he’s rationalized as intentional on Magnus’ part.

Where hope once buried itself, now remains content patience. He knows the truth about his soulmate now, he knows why Magnus made the choices for them that he did, and he only regrets the way he left. Despite the process of events, and the bridges that he almost burned, Alec wouldn't change knowing Magnus for anything. For as long as he’s allowed his memories, he’ll remember the longing glances exchanged across the room, each and every subtle touch when they would brush past each other in the halls of the palace, and the heat from Magnus’ body when they would sit beside each other and talk for hours.

A knock at the door brings him out of his thoughts, and though Alec isn’t expecting guests, he hurries to pull it open.

Magnus - beautiful, incredible, wonderful Magnus - greets him on the other side. Warm white coat, silver flecks of glitter around his eyes, and a hesitant, hopeful smile.

“Magnus,” Alec hitches, breath catching in his throat at the sight.

“Alexander,” Magnus responds warmly. “Can I come in?”

“O-Of course!”

Alec steps aside to let him in, affording himself the few moments of silence as Magnus walks in to appreciate the sight of him in his small, cozy home. Magnus doesn’t belong here, Alec knows that he doesn’t quite fit in, in all his grand splendor, but Alec can’t deny how good he looks here.

They’re on the couch by the fireplace when the errant worry that maybe the fire is too hot for the Ice Prince sneaks into Alec’s mind. Before he can ask, however, Magnus speaks. “You did it, you know. I wanted to thank you personally.”

“It worked?”

Magnus nods. “It took some time, but as soon as I felt the change, I knew what had happened, and I knew it was successful.”

“So your father was able to keep Lilith banished?”

“Yes,” Magnus smiles, shifting closer and making Alec’s heart race. “When my father returned he gave me a choice. I could stay and watch over winter, as I had been for years. I could stay and remain a fairy tale that people who have the sight will go back to tell their families. Or I could leave and be free.”

Alec swallows, glancing down at the space still separating them on the couch, scrutinizing every thread he can make out in the over-used cushion. “What did you choose?”

Fingers tread closer to his, dance across the couch and along Alec’s thigh until they’re clasping through his own and slowly, he lifts his head to Magnus’ eager smile.

“I chose happiness, Alexander. I chose you.”

Relief rushes through rapidly, bubbles a laugh from Alec’s throat, and Magnus pulls him into a tight embrace that they hold for longer than either of them care to put a number to.

They take solace in each other now, sitting comfortable and warm, with bodies pressed together and Magnus’ fingers treading through the thick locks of Alec’s hair. It feels... Amazing. It feels unreal, unbelievable to be sitting in the arms of his soulmate, to feel Magnus’ even breathing beneath his weight, to know he’s actually here, and that they can truly be together. That he has finally found his soulmate.

“Magnus,” Alec hums lightly after what feels like hours tangled in each other. Magnus offers a small noise of content in response, but refuses much more than that. “Hypothetically, if you were to kiss me… would I still lose my memories?”

When Magnus laughs, it doesn’t sound out of place like it did in the palace. It sounds natural and free, a full blossoming spring of affection. “Why don’t we find out?”

Alec wrinkles his nose, “I would rather like to keep my -”

Lips against his own cut Alec off, a warm pressure so different than their first time in the blizzard. A moment, just a moment of hesitation, and then Alec is leaning into the kiss. It’s slow and soft like the delicate snowfall they shared for so many years, until the storm rises and it soon becomes a flurry of pecks, a quick succession of kisses greedy for more, hungry for what was refused for so long.

Suddenly, Magnus pulls back.

“I think it’s safe to say you remember everything, so no need to keep going.”

Alec rolls his eyes, the grin on his lips betraying the annoyance he feigns as he pulls Magnus back to him by the front of his still worn coat.

They’ll have to explain what happened when Izzy returns and figure out what Magnus is going to do now that he’s not locked up in an ice palace for all of eternity. But for now, wrapped up and kissing lazily in the warm cocoon of new love, the only thing that matters is that they have each other, at last. Two souls connected, two hearts matched forever, and they have all of that time to figure out what the future holds for them, together.

#cloudburst-ink #malecsanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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