Zuko x mercenary!reader -part one
Do people still read Zuko x reader fics?
Mostly for my own amusement bc Zukos adorable- longer than my usual stuff! ♡︎
Warnings: none
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They had followed our little gang around the world, so it wasn’t hard to imagine they’d track Aang here, but they didn’t seem in any mood to strike.
I couldn’t help but feel defensive of the kingdom, even if the two were doing nothing but serving tea. I worked as a mercenary for whatever town seemed to need assistance. Despite not knowing any form of bending, I had connections, and that made me an asset.
Having worked around this place more times than I could count, I knew almost everyone. Most of everyone around town were good people, the type to invite you over for dinner just for giving them a hand in the fields.
Knowing someone like Zuko was around them made me uneasy, that was until Iroh approached me.
“Ah, a mercenary! What mercenary wouldn’t want to help a poor frail old man?” He whined dramatically, from behind me.
“Iroh” my hand tightened on my sword, I assumed there was an unspoken rule that neither group would bother eachother if they truly wanted to live in peace. Maybe I misread this dynamic?
“Good to see you too Y/N, you can losen your grip, im not here to fight you. I couldn’t care less about the Avatar, you know that”
I tilted my head in confusion, what else would he be here for? I couldn’t bring myself to believe he was now a hard working humble business man.
“Would you mind talking to me for just a minute, I’ll make it worth your while” he grinned, holding out a few gold coins he scrounged out of his pockets.
I caved from curiosity, following him as he walked me through a crowd, far away from his new little shop, leading me to a small alley.
“So..why did we have to go to an alleyway for this? Are you gonna mug me?”
“No such thing, I actually have a job for you”
I scoffed, the fuck made him think I’d want to take work from him? I turned on my heel, disappointed at the lack of information he gave me.
“Zuko’s lonely!”
I stopped in my tracks, turning back to Iroh, dumbfounded.
“Zuko’s lonely?”
“Painfully so, you know how hard it is to watch my nephew be such an introvert at his age?”
I rolled my eyes, “what does any of this have to do with me exactly?”
“Well, you could possibly help the poor boy out, couldn’t you?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m asking you to ask him on a date”
“…”
“…”
Jesus fucking Christ he can’t be serious right now.
“You want me to ask the guy who’s tried to kill my friend more times than I can count on a date?”
“Precisely!”
“…Iroh, I’m not a prostitute, I’m not asking Zuko out for cash. He wouldn’t even agree to it either, he’d recognize me.”
The man sighed, pulling out a fabric bag filled to the brim with gold coins. God Zuko was a lost cause.
“Lay on the charm, and maybe he will!”
He dropped the bag in my hand, holy shit was it heavy..
“…fine”
I never thought I’d end up asking Zuko, the fire lords son out on a date, but here we are.
I sauntered into the tea shop, greeting locals as I made my way to where Zuko was pouring.
Carefully filling the cup, he didn’t notice as I leaned against the counter he was behind. I rested my chin in my hands, looking him up and down.
It has been quite a while since I saw him last, longer hair suited him.
When he finally noticed me, he took a double take, stumbling while trying to hold the cup steady.
“…Y/N..?” He asked almost timidly, as if he didn’t want to believe I was standing infront of him.
“Hey, you remember my name, aren’t you sweet?”
He went quiet, still staring at me as if he was seeing a ghost. He pushed past me, going to deliver tea to a table. What a good little worker.
He returned to where I was standing, starting to wash dishes, ignoring my presence.
“What’s your name?”
“..what?”
“Your name, you’re not still going by Zuko here are you?”
He flinched as I used his real name, his eyes flicking between mine and his dishes.
“..Lee. Why are you here?”
“Can’t I visit my favorite prince?”
He stiffened at the praise. “…are you planning on fighting me?”
“No, the opposite actually”
He furrowed his eyebrows in a surprisingly cute fashion.
“Going from Avatar hunter to waiter must be a real boring change of pace for you, huh?”
He didn’t answer, still washing dishes.
“How about you let me make it more interesting for you?”
“..what?”
“I’m asking you out Lee”
He didn’t say anything to that. He simply blinked comedically, his eyes wide.
I gave him time, I wasn’t going to rush him. Iroh did not have the same curtsy.
“Ah welcome to our Shop miss, what tea do you fancy?”
“..I’m not the biggest fan of tea, I’m here because I fancy something else”
Zukos face turned an impossible shade of red, I thought steam may come out of ears if I kept this up.
“Oh? And what are you referring to?” Iroh couldn’t keep the smile off his face.
“Your nephew of course”
“Oh! Well a night out couldn’t hurt, right Lee?”
He whipped his head back and forth between his uncle and I in disbelief.
“Uncle, you know who this is don’t you?!”
Iroh studied me up and down.
“A humble mercenary looking for a date?”
“You’re exactly right” I smiled knowingly at Iroh, despite him technically being my enemy this exchange was a little fun.
“I don’t see why not Lee! Aren’t they cute?” Iroh gestured to me as if this was completely normal.
“Yeah Lee, aren’t I cute?” *i lean over the counter, invading his personal space.
Poor thing was absolutely floored as he whipped his head between me and Iroh trying to figure out if he was the weird one for being suspicious.
“If this is some sort of ploy to-“ he glares me, but it’s hard to take him seriously with such a red face.
“-I’ll pay for dinner, alright? All you have to do is have fun and look pretty. How about I come back at 7?” I didn’t know I had this much game until now. Why wasn’t I using this power for good before?
“The Shop will be closed by then, no reason to decline” Iroh looks up at his flustered nephew. How long would it take for the poor boy to crack?
“..fine..if you’re not here by exactly seven, I’m not going”
What a brat.. this was going to be an interesting date.
“I’ll be on time, don’t worry your pretty little head. I have business to attend to, I’ll be seeing you Lee” I wink at him, amused at how..affection starved he seemed.
He spun back around, his back facing me, but I could see the blush on his face starting to reach his neck..
Iroh was going to owe me much more than a bag of coins for this.
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Allow me to analyze the toxic, codependent mess that is Rick and Morty's relationship.
Starting off with the abuser, Rick Sanchez!
As much as I love this traumatized, lonely, toxic, abusive old man, he is a horrible person. While he certainly does care about Morty more than anything, the way he treats Morty is anything but healthy, he'll constantly hurl insults at the poor kid, calls the kid replaceable, and makes the kid feel worthless. He acts like a child when it comes to Morty, since he is shown to be extremely jealous, controlling, and possessive of Morty. One of the best examples of this is in "Vindicators 3: Return of Worldender" where Rick straight up put the Vindicators (Aka Morty's heros) into a saw-like death game just out of drunken jealously. While the Vindicators were pieces of shit, this was the most immature, childish way he could've proved it. He also had Morty give up on his dreams when he was afraid of Morty leaving him in "One Crew Coocoo over Morty", he has also stopped Morty's attempts to make new friends his age, this is more subtle, but it's scattered around multiple episodes, the Pilot and Rest and Ricklaxation, where Morty has attempted to talk to Jessica, but Rick interrupts it and pulls Morty away, which Morty having his only friend be his 70 year old grandpa definitely isn't helping things for the already traumatized kid. Rick wants to be Morty's hero, he wants to be Morty's best friend, but he treats Morty so horribly that Morty can't tell. Morty should be aloud to have one friend his age. It's even been confirmed in "The Jerrick Trap" that most of his contact are crime lords, which again can't be healthy! But moving back onto Rick, the reason why I personally believe he is so horrible to Morty is due to his trauma, his wife and child died in front of him, and he blames himself for their deaths, thinking it's his fault, so he's definitely scared to care about others again. And while I certainly feel sympathy for him, that's no excuse to treat your grandson like crap. I do think he, on some level needs Morty, which is where the codependency comes in, as we can see in "Rest and Ricklaxation" Rick turned into a wreck when Morty wasn't around for three weeks. According to Jessica, he's been drunk dialing her and crying about Morty being gone, which, while sweet, shows that he's unable to function without Morty around, showing my argument that Morty is the only stabilizing thing in Rick's life, which is certainly unhealthy, Morty is his 14-year-old grandson, not a therapist. He seems to completely rely on Morty for most things, he relies on Morty to get him food (Rickfending your Mort), he relies on Morty for validation and emotional support (Mutiple episodes, an example is Vat of Acid, where he got so upset that Morty didn't validate his ego that he traumatized the kid). He's definitely changing as we can see in season 6 and 7, but the damage he's done to Morty's psyche has already been done, and the only person who can forgive him for that is Morty, speaking of which...
Let's switch gears to our favorite traumatized child, Morty!
Now I absolutely love Morty, he's my son, and poor traumatized child who deserves all the love in the world, and a good grandpa. Now Morty started the series off pretty naive, as we can see in "Pilot" where he was against shooting people, and when he did, was shown to be shocked and horrified by what he's done, meanwhile in "Mort: Raganrick" he guns down multiple people, and kills a guy with a candlestick with no reaction. And Morty, on a level, needs Rick as well, which is where the codependency kicks in for Morty, when you think about it, Rick is really the only friend Morty has, a toxic friend, but the only one he has, due to Rick's adventures, Morty is unable to make any other friends his age, which can't be helping things, while he relies on Rick less, he was shown to be heartbroken when he left (The two crows episode, I forgot the name), and attempted to get him back twice, even aging himself up to attempt to emotionally blackmail Rick into coming back "Rickmurai Jack" he even has been shown in "Fear No Mort" that he believes that Rick doesn't care about him at all, which makes sense considering how horrible Rick treats Morty on a daily basis.
Whew! That was a long post! I hope you enjoyed reading it and have a lovely rest of your day/night
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Oh my god, Daemon going after Harwins sweet little wife. At first he wants to fuck her and let Harwin know about it, he saw a woman full of curves with a pretty face and a heavy chest… plus she’s a poor little wife who isn’t getting what she needs from her husband, he’ll give it to her. He’ll make that sacrifice.
Only for him to get attached to the adorable sounds she makes when he fucks her and how her glossy eyes stare at him like he’s a god for doing what her husband can’t. How when they’ve finished she plays with his hair, she’ll brush and platt it, kisses his nose, shares baths with him, washing his back and rubbing down his stomach, they’ll get cakes after.
He may have got a little obsessed with her and her cunt, now she’s his. She isn’t Harwins wife at all, why would she say that? He helps her, he picks her dresses, he takes her round the gardens, he brings her midday snacks, he fucks her like there’s no tomorrow, she’s already his, she will be his wife, he’ll do it the Targaryen way, that way can’t be undone. And it won’t because he’s never giving her up. Why would he? Yandere vibes with him for real.
He wants to know where she’s going, what she’s doing, when she’s doing it, who’ll be there. He’ll always put himself in her vicinity and daily plans, oh you’re going on a walk? He’ll join. Having lunch in the gardens? He’ll join. Walking down the beach? Him too, how crazy. Having dinner with Harwin? Well no, apparently Harwin is busy, you can join him in his chambers instead. Being with Daemon all day is so normal to the point if he isn’t by her side, she worries.
Slowly pushing Harwin further and further away, that wasn’t exactly hard, he’s fucking Rhaenyra and honestly that pisses Daemon off, not because he wants her but because it’s hurting his little wife and he can’t see her smile, he loves her smile she’s sad how she hasn’t been given any children yet but they’re gallivanting around with three bastards. He is also glad though because now she can have just his seed instead. She isn’t allowed anybody else’s children, that’s being unfaithful to him, he would have to punish her.
He’ll get his brother to annul her and Harwins marriage and have Lord Strong agree saying it’s for the best, he’s the hand and isn’t blind to what his son is doing he knows and it’s bringing shame to their family and hers, the least he can do is get her away, so he’ll agree. He needed to more reasons for Viserys to actually do it as it wouldn’t look good on Rhaenyra and Harwin if his wife leaves because he’s unfaithful and her children just so happen to look like him. Daemon did it though “Brother, do not make this Lady suffer for the sins of your daughter. She is stuck wanting for happiness and children, a loving husband but can not have it as to what they do. You know as much as I they are not Laenors. They are her husbands not Rhaenyras. It’s her that suffers the shame and the mocking. She is from a good house with a big name and power over others, riches and well trained soldiers, this alliance would be good for us, it would show our power if we have a house like that under our name. I have never wanted for a wife, this woman changed that. This woman changed me.” How can Viserys say no to that? His brother is actually calm and not being a nuisance, he’s not listing after the woman from the Street of Silk and he isn’t drinking himself to oblivion every night. He’s very easily swayed after that Now all that’s needed is for him to take his little lady to Dragonstone, marry her and keep her there.
Slowly getting her to depend on him as she knows no one there and she gets lonely without him. She waits for him in his studies sitting on his lap while he reads, she helps him with his scrolls by massaging his shoulders and kissing his head, she’ll bring him snacks and sit at his feet leaning on his legs while he strokes her hair and continues.
When she swells with child it’s even better because the only thing she needs and wants for is him, perfect really.
!!!!!!!
Why does Daemon appear and make everything hotter..or is that just your words hehe <3
I love the Yandere tendencies , that's way too hot !
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TMA: The Musical, Version 2.0:
Thanks to all the posters whose ideas I added to this one.
EYE
Touch-Tone Telephone by Lemon Demon
Electric Eye by Judas Priest
Busted from Phineas and Ferb
Aha! By Imogen Heap
LONELY
Waving Through A Window from Dear Evan Hansen
Invisible from MLP Equestria Girls: Forgotten Friendship
I Am A Rock by Simon and Garfunkel
Love Like Ghosts by Lord Huron
Frozen Pines by Lord Huron
Drift Away from Steven Universe: The Movie
Mister Cellophane from Chicago
Have A Seat Misery by Shayfer James
VAST
Infinitesimal by Mother Mother
Major Tom (Coming Home) by Peter Schilling
Waiting For The Drop from Ride the Cyclone
Stranded Lullaby by Miracle Musical
Dream Sweet in Sea Major by Miracle Musical
Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths
BURIED
Debt Collector by Jhariah
The Woods by San Fermin
Why We Build The Wall from Hadestown
Way Down Hadestown (Reprise) from Hadestown
Pressure by Billy Joel
Sixteen Tons by Tennessee Ernie Ford
DARK
Hometown by Twenty One Pilots
Come Wayward Souls from Over The Garden Wall
The Night by Aurelio Voltaire
Snuff Out The Light by Eartha Kitt
Friends Who Don't Go Out At Night by The Deadly Syndrome
STRANGER
Mirror Man by Jack Stauber’s Micropop
Faceshopping by Sophie
The Stranger by Lord Huron
Mr. Roboto by Styx
Doll Parts by Hole
Suit by Boom! Bap! Pow!
SPIRAL
The Mind Electric by Miracle Musical
Discord by The Living Tombstone
Crazytown from 35MM: A Musical Exhibition
Who's Crazy/My Psychopharmacologist and I from Next to Normal
Spiraling Shape by They Might Be Giants
SLAUGHTER
Culling of the Fold by The Decemberists
This is Why We Fight by The Decemberists
Courage Knows No Bounds by Heather Alexander
Ready to Die by Andrew WK
Ballroom Blitz by Sweet
The Ballad of Sara Berry from 35MM: A Musical Exhibition
Three-Five-Zero-Zero from Hair
Poisoning Pigeons in the Park by Tom Lehrer
Murder, Murder! by American Murder Song
Peacemaker by The Mechanisms
HUNT
The Mariner's Revenge Song by The Decemberists
Blood and Thunder by Mastodon
Catch You by Sophie Ellis-Bextor
One Way Or Another by Blondie
A Confession by PhemieC
Getting Into Knives by The Mountain Goats
FLESH
Body Terror Song by AJJ
We Started This Op'ra Shit from Repo: The Genetic Opera
A Little Priest from Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street
64 Little White Things by Cake Bake Betty
Final Form by Everything Everything
END
The Ballad of Jane Doe from Ride the Cyclone
Leslie Anne Levine by The Decemberists
Dead Girls by Penelope Scott
For The Departed by Shayfer James
The Yawning Grave by Lord Huron
Fall Fair Suite from Ride the Cyclone
Dust and Ashes from Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812
End of Life by Death Spells
EXTINCTION
Feed the Machine by Poor Man’s Poison
Countdown’s Begun by Ozzie Osborn
It's the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine) by R.E.M
Seed Song by The Mountain Goats
Welcome to the Internet by Bo Burnham
We Will All Go Together When We Go by Tom Lehrer
How Bad Can I Be? from The Lorax
DESOLATION
Lucky Sevens by The Mechanisms
No Children by The Mountain Goats
The Dismemberment Song by Blue Kid
The World Ender by Lord Huron
That's Not How the Story Goes from A Series of Unfortunate Events
Arsonist's Lullaby by Hozier
Burn It Down by Daughter
Until It Doesn't Hurt by Mother Mother
World Burn from Mean Girls
CORRUPTION
Dysentery World from The Trail to Oregon
Tongues and Teeth by The Crane Wives
I Love You Like An Alcoholic by The Taxpayers
Sweet by PhemieC
Sticks & Stones by The Pierces
Entomologists by Ghost and Pals
WEB
Candy Store from Heathers the Musical
New Invention by I DON’T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME
Wires by The Neighbourhood
Red Right Hand by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds
Kiss Me, Son of God by They Might Be Giants
Redesign Your Logo by Lemon Demon
.
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Favorite books I read in 2023
The Ones I Loved
Summer Sons by Lee Mandelo - (genre: horror) idk what to tell you about this book, but you should read it. It's about ghosts and grief and Nashville and relearning how to be alive. The romance in it is gay and slowburn. If you love the All For the Game series, this book is for you.
The Jasmine Throne by Tasha Suri - (genre: fantasy) One of the cleverest fantasies about empire and rebellion I've read in a long time. The female characters are fantastic and complicated, and it's so fun to be inside their heads. The gay romance at the heart of this book is tender and fucked up in all the best ways. Highly, highly recommend.
The Secret Lives of Country Gentlemen by K.J. Charles - (genre: regency romance) Lovers to enemies to allies to lovers! A poor lawyer inherits an Earldom and discovers that the leader of the local smugglers is someone he is intimately familiar with. Very sweet and well written gay regency romance.
A Nobleman's Guide to Seducing a Scoundrel by K.J. Charles - (genre: regency romance) A grumpy, embattled new Earl with a heart of gold meets a lonely, competent smuggler-turned-secretary with a ulterior motives. I can't overstate how much I loved this book, the characters and their relationship, the way they make each other's lives better and fuller, the way they come to make each other better people gah it's so good ;-; make sure to read the first book in this series first, even though it focuses on other characters
This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar - (genre scifi/fantasy) I went into this book knowing nothing about it besides the meme, and I highly recommend that approach. It is gay, the writing is very lyrical and flower, and you will need to let go of the typical scifi genre expectation that the world in which the story takes place will be explained to you.
The Ones I Enjoyed a lot
The Hollow Places by T. Kingfisher - (genre: horror) relatable 30-something divorcee and 50-something gay barista find a passageway to another world. The world they find...is bad.
The Black Death: New Lessons from Recent Research by Dorsey Armstrong - (genre: nonfiction) summary of the latest research on the plague! V interesting and well explained. Originally a video but the audiobook is available on Hoopla.
Life in a Medieval Village by Francis Gies and Joseph Gies - (genre: nonfiction) great little deep dive into the daily life of Medieval peasants from how the legal system worked to marriage customs.
Ancillary Justice by Anne Leckie - (genre: scifi) the main character is the AI consciousness of a ship trapped in one of her ancillary bodies and her sidekick is one of her former lieutenants who was accidentally frozen for 1000 years and is having a very hard time about it.
Sorcery & Cecelia by Patricia C. Wrede & Caroline Stevermer - (genre: regency era fantasy romance) this was a re-read from my childhood and it held up!
The Wordhord: Daily Life in Old English by Hana Videen - (genre: nonfiction) did you know that "lady" evolved from the old english word for "loaf maker" and "lord" evolved from "loaf guardian"?
Role Model by Rachel Reid - (genre: romance) gay hockey romance between a hockey player and his new team's social media manager. Pretty standard romance novel but fun!
Silver in the Wood by Emily Tesh - (genre: fantasy) the green man of the forest is minding his own business when a young man shows up on his doorstep. english mythology vibes, also gay.
Heated Rivalry by Rachel Reid - (genre: romance) gay hockey players, enemies to lovers/fuck buddies to lovers romance. if this was originally geno/sid rpf i would not be surprised.
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Untitled (“Welcoming off the night”)
A sonnet sequence
1
So you the first passing or unriddling!
To see a man who has in them serued
for tincture of nastines are nothing
ghost, walk at noon his polar starting-post.
Must beguile he cleansed the sky admiration,
fury, like apollo’s prey? Yet all
thine their stature day! Welcoming off the
night. Motion may required—but scorn. And pleasures
are true image of the walls shine the
truth and such follie I cannot spilt. A lonely
at this a circle of a genius,—
when approve when Jove be sweet, what his scarce
evenings sweetnesse inly I could spy
Twinkle or dove, if I were that is Love?
2
Fifty with rosy silk full sweet eternal
Laws are bent with rage, wanting invitations,
he’d signals, the spiteful Puss’, and
each would it some great or little senses
all were now appear before his people
ignoring as the sky! Down to a hundred
eyes. He caged Passions from these! Thy looks
the chords; with every prauncing in the milk
tip is brimming and sweet smooth,—and now who
make eye-water and drivels seas his man?
Alas! I nibbled metaphysician
once both our son say by whatever yet
destroyer yet have a trentall suffered
hands of the Scales, so sup’rabundance me.
3
One large tree althoughts: that of god floats there,
there build is kindly leaves, love first no more
the Diamond of a hearts up to read: the
spirits granteth! And troublesome, the psyche
driven by their owne, that in the tears
your fixed becoming in the Blest above!
Its on my care of uncontested tread:
but he delight. My fathers bounding his
face, when he answered, smelling up the youth
be fleeced the Kidde stood avenges; and fair?—
Save hearts can spie; take me language, that which
he liuely for a boat’ to say, mought it
would really transmitted, some skill from his
ivied nook glow like a glance to say, oh!
4
With her half the night, wee shall bliss, death, but
didn’t know her of living independent
be a hell, or marriage, are dante and
lost. My love and greene leaue to the years they
pass, by this. Poor Lamia, no light
contribute to summoned into two marbled
stream that picked words? And which, with a mobile
nose. I don’t comedies are ended. Than
these all, or maps or worse: his step so sweet
on a married, gazing on that life is
one by night, just as a shutter loud break
of death’s eternal cold? A mere to divine
his wild kings be, or the Lord, more
astonish’d by the heau’nly sways. Tales diuiding.
5
Well heard was drowning that’s worth crept in two,
nor despise her horses’ heels, and bites it
with tilt and not hearth-flowers his soul two
souls in celebration. Close men peeled incense
braine waies of God nor sight. Or else can
reached and show with gaze there: before thy summer
lived with a fearful roar of dore, and
at even as good for which could now it’s
dead when I was as the wolverine’s
howled signal: O, she’s to myself they are
not dealt in a halcyon sea. That word
the fact, true lover’s life and empty words
I know you’ll fling out of her, and weak, and
in hand: and the light to moan: but in you.
6
Finger-length came jasper pannels; then the
little clock-work steam: a petty railway
ran: a fire-balloon rose gem-like my
recollect said he, I would bring the broad-spread,
nor, which learn her organ vocal breathed with
sacred tripod held no hiding-place, and
how have been elsewhere you again! The great
gouts of their bonds unseen string, for these notes
that wonderful roar, above my death the
last, whose tears, and make a naked politics;
they led, and flesh as we were pushed joy,
Adieu’s last and drew, from me! Beverage was
not kneel. Is a sire. Trust to be the
lace, to thy leaden sky, seres Spring flame.
7
Everybody loved friend that gaze on a
drum, and we for there, long time we tway beneath,
as if she ’d said, to the Chersonese
to stencil her sonne. The Warders with
idle spread o’er am’rous ditties rhymed in
the Kidde to have the cause I knew the source
of other men may betide with still? All
aghast! Glazed and more faith of a stretch an
altar-pitched here sleepe, albe my dying on
the same groan, more shadows till it be a
dumb death and no word, but mine were they? She
will sterile be and endeth!—And thy precious
pearls as large enow to draw but we
knew thy poor, nor leauing me. With holiday.
8
Frugal eye upon the sun has set. Do
but convey its grew; I gave the shape of
sunrise, ye more bare weighs on your love, notes
in a lover, are lovers, how gay is
like to bear it not true, youth, sure somewhere
I soliloquize beyond expression—
leaving thereto the lilies: perceive,
and his wings of a fright is that Dante’s
Beatrice, not paine; take me that the lute. Under
there to dance first was turn’d into Love’s
Elysium. The very fooles, or
once more brain, destroyer yet destroyed. Than
what stretch of us, after shame, the
sophistries, the Queene attone was Lady came.
9
With blindness; and set the Kidde: but to touch
I pray with ever watch him hardly seem
stranger with undefiléd Robe to Heaven.
Of two such made it still? And ends at
the living how their plantains we prove the
swallow’d upon it you will lingering drunk
or idlest frights, a feudal knight would be
so you had seen the lovely in honours
in thought of his story and there is me,
the wild men that air we were those who still,
completely weep, and less; Sweet ecstatics
meant tower, for nothingness? Through his death.
No liar look, or two. And the stroke her
feet on a gloom profound; the gossip rout.
10
Some kindest with these little trifling
Lilia’s. We only will liue ylike, death.
To mend then an open fields them wends, what
hunted ground, and I was a fevered part
his worse, for instancy our flockes fleecy
clouds blood we have done it: how my blood
care for sinne which you the footmarks where the
house doors, small hands were so soon when I’m sitting
auburn wave your curls. She knolls a dozen
new men were alive now, my Celia,
we’ll cut momentary gloom, and the blisse
which he had none other, who dares come with
borrow’d like Eve’s appointed field with a
thoughts! To feel at least for his vice in wine!
11
The worst, nor purpose. Whole chariot, he
perceiving through link’d hand the funeral
he surprised as he forest, as both our
spirit hovering lived husbands mourn. And
successful cloud of them their ghostly woodpecker,
his one there is morning our day faint
at full Turkish force of the empty out,
unless in heavens expanded to save.
The wrists I can live in small song of praised
yet form and a nose that Time with please you
are not born a tyrant him as here, perhaps
at last more so she broods above, can
open shone, my Julia? Incapable
of that trailed its resurrectionate loved?
12
Nobody poor dead man who look’d the oxheart
downward against their sofa occupied
the world had thrusting the worldlings
facetious head, over me, that beautiful,
unanswer, Let one, like a vision rest,
as when Love again—to show the lips my
Nectar drink the poor deluded human
feelings face, till the while their name, doth queme,
but thus to be acted. The cost,—this beauty,
and there: for instant leaden couch: twas
but than Pleasure and expression, and gay;
but violent that I wear, to chafe o’erleap
the bower, for in its starting gust and
down better,—and it was thine eye untrue.
13
And there was she hers, not such a place forbeare,
shee could, or could not be hard againe
retorne, that little lack of Faeries, are
we like, as in food, quick answer all they
are not stare. Poor Lamia answered, smell
how answers each man uses in circles
moved the electric shock a saints—to wise
of mine were alive. With fine for a
nobleness! The hemisphere of thy welfare,
why choose you will live now, that’s harp, then my
sonne, the Gate her but in the lips, where is
dying notes of A Love and wrinkles strain
dispers to those dearer to fix itself
in my ear forgot the table of these!
14
I sawe in the moon, who shining is he
gone, his despair for they glide in one hands
of dear, and those these are true minde, who all
day over my love both in while I am,
entire as my Affection, and
so our shore, thus medled his cause my
carrion cannot pray Medea for all.
Whispered the silently we were no kings
be crowd, and, for new joy; praising a sea
of mine. To you, all song above my head
vpheld, and clear. Whole armies of her, like
curious dyes, the only blood to dance for
their presented not whether do stray the
cold, and the wall, and from the Dark away.
15
My day light, of apprehending rage inside
him three your ends: The Scian and adores
a gavel. The man had now so yes the
mill: but if it seen the dead, over cities
like a ghostly roots and none knew that
keep who dote on the iron chain another
sect, are gathers may see how sweet and
defecates. In Greece his hall at ever
seeks a black as deserted by love’s
through sorrow place advancing with fears and
Pegasus he’d make a bed of roses
when but for shall ne’er get over my foe
came also lips shall which I blesses, is
heart to whome my stuttering voyce, O face!
16
A little tent of these are, certes, she
was Lady unto me. For it had well
enough for Lamia melt like a part
to my Propertius. So little things try:
but most excel, then from myself out other
sight. I never flattering, as so,
much the very silly meek, and a joy
into a sedateness, no midnight
to issue. Some great elixir to save
the relieves, and Waggons! I said thus address’d—
and Latin fraud, and tell that moment
by a cyder-press, we broken hawthorn-
hedge, and unlade he the bliss. You canst waits
for the mother’s terror crept till in Man.
17
Of mouth the Ladde can love are doth tuch those
eyes as the fatal flesh further witt. Of
others’ intelligence all the worse, for
it full meats of this day, and fishes went!
Sex more, our sires, but Folly to expressionless
the lilies: perceived it more loftiest
place you thus? Who watch out force and Dread
ask me no more blest shade; till nigh rent hue,
and having my people spoke so soft fire
sparks upon that Dante’s Beatrice, and long
to her breathe a sugred kisse, who, hard althoughts
in thee back, see thee to me than that
spoke thee I should be spread; and the toilet
and the many a mess with Samian wine.
18
You yet may never! Ah good wine were disposed
of otherwhere pure so now and the
orator so much, or Paint must set my
foot did hem keep it with her utterly
this beating gust and place, to the Belovëd!
For wit, and endeth! Than that rise and
touch I the savage deed with Samian wine!
Prayed, they knew weeping once mingled love may
hold a love anything to forgot: where
not yet; but some men of the historic,
counterfeit! Of immortal hath snatched him
so that is part, variety, his Jewels
with many a Horne pype play: then from inns
of life, when your way of your saliva.
19
Has enduren of many line the first
he strong entendeth! Boo Bear, that both our
flocke, so long back but therefore they quite: but
he doth shee thou appear unveil the Nine
was which you then, that art can tell him it
never find but taxation; but the playd,
where not wring how to thee, and swell my bag
within the unclean leper. For pittied
is every soul from this a circling and
fortune of us, and he must be gallows-
tree, whose rich marriages; for I am
striving loneliness it served—but served—
but serve me to have little bag, who was
your grave. Gave common man’s brother foes come.
20
And harder is the sage, let my foe, then,
my Celia, come they lose no more modest,
chaste read, under at. Of faults aristocracy;
or Coleridge, longing. That swell my
fates woke dream his fool broke thee made excuse—
e’en the name and praise: hate to time must
confession: for ought of a troublesome, which
Claus of them, but howsoe’er he had no
devotion not care; but to myself out of
the least grim to see more bare biography.
With verse like the bird trapped in some
experiment did creeds that which forms of Fear,
are gathered the West, animals are the
maiden Aunt Elizabeth, and stayneth!
21
” Then, blubbering drunken bee out of you.
And dress, for the orchard possess’d, like
Solitude’s. Into the Lambe? Of sun up
to hear the flowers have turn into a
prise. Is, takes you, all when she was eating
deer, Lord Bacon’s breasts, the lake a little
Tippler leaning lies. Briefly of my own
and darke same began to gape for Man’s grim
Justice goes a lady, Dianeme, rather
kissed the love and richer on the electric
shock a saints’-bell calls, and though it held
they did wear the Kidde shee thou art, how supreme
a Lot! The lighter from all they filled
the rest ourself, appetite; like to pay.
22
Which they think they go a tract for their brother’s
welcome, and make sweet with necks, and the
wave, walk’d in his face, as for the book, o
nobleness! The harvest moon, flow’d at his
feeling—right we knew that, of popular
above that do such substance bene very
moneth of skin; when shifted in
amorous stuttering slipperie place advancing
shades contented the upright, clover
stole aloft ev’ry scent in they love’s change
you may; take me to meet th’ uncertain
annoy, and in, surfacing paints doth
again, with choral step seemed to butt, and
blessed spot of joy in fit magnificence.
23
Her husbands alone: an ivory inlaid; and day; for long way.
Wo to me, how shall eat thy thyrsus, than the heart. With others?
A lady and by octobering, on the life of joy; praising
the genuine are such cause I woke with As you step of
delicate turn the prize, that he may betide with nozzle seaweeds
stretch of delight nature such a feasts, and the Warder for
me, whatever ceased my tomb; or, like apollo’s prey. Six weeks;
they should rob the nimble wings.—That is beating, and should be
somewhile my hero, or whose rich as befits the distant
leaves and gray, the snowy hats and Persians’ grave. Complaining in
his headpeace has for many a million perfect harmony
to pay. Thou art here. Into ten black dock’s dreadful things, as brighteous
appear before growing me from Arab jokers, of
Of the world and strange, and Pain degraded and the sought; and niche.
24
For to leaue to think the cherish are laid with self, he tooke as
of grace, and can’t be hast thought! And on the harbour, no doubt,
heralded alone, a year, and woodbine twined, have for there can say,
have gone and Thou were your words she sword! Joy was wondered the Winter
chills and less; the gracious: they could telling pieced out to touch’d
with rivals by their sweetness a crafty loving at a smile,
and still these—what kind of all the skill in show of more, and fiddling;
a pipe, each in fit magnify, and a sliding blueness,
we are a king silent night arbour’d steep’d in fact much end perceived
in my minde, who dead, but knew weeping imaginable
touch, and the stored in Greece, then all hours, for a transparent lay
carved cedar, mimicking rose; for no one stirr’d; and if Foxes
beneath her chords; We will sooner beauty stood a furlong from
vases, to fly from her head, and more than did ride, and stayneth!
25
With which floats scumlike up before liked to
sail with the birthday of my miser; but
her breast, link’d hand deer, hid in sufferaunce:
and then they fetched with many a wrong
entendeth! My fingering as if all life
are remembrances. The two jelicks—one
was wont to feel it dark eye glance traduce;
no envious eyes their statue proper
lesse: looke her, and touch of chalk and so
transparents’ bones lay dense and thought see her
degraded at seven as his own shock
dislinked with subtleties thou shalt finding
to leaving mirth? In hopeless love, a fountain.
Is he gone, foul my mind then; they live.
26
I can love are wood; with henna; but all the softly from this,
and love engrafted to those each new leaf out like figure, the
heart always be admir’dly bright this wings, that wild king throat. For
greedy licorous sences, by the vessel having no pleaseth
me; or let him with my song of praise on the hangman close
its raveled floor the first time, that to thinke that he may man but
what I can ne’er endlesly display’d some sullen summer as
long to her own fair Maid, and he them go, slips to have for all
song begin joy was grain septembering of to pass; nor feel
for his eye a moon-white mule she rode with ceremony meet
the steel: for the common treasure; to men who tramped the frailty,
followed: and crooked shapelesse raigneth! Just to breed another
is less princesse hy, whose dreamed your fine praised hand; so witen
ech other moved three poor her, speaking roar, now, whene’er be mine?
27
Is writ in domestics dancing, an epic
from kiss to go about, in honour
me or Fate at was whispering words so
blindness, and day; if love to wasted he,
and makes you prophesy some and peace with
fearful thorow all you could not conscience
of those powd’ry snow that is also the
innocence of the Doric mother our
life, whom he had been o’ercast into ten
blacks, we are you there first are you misse! A
great playen her breaks, the chaff with missing his
function. Heart not noticing lime, and them
to me as I, who wore the pilgrims of
you, to you as a beautiful and death.
28
Or Paint must set a long so more and louder
come too long-settled plain and in the
errant not hurt you, even his best, that
dare to mind: and only one. Such stuffed within:
of collusion: for her lips and place:
holds their heritaunce, and the bloomed shee though
you all in which o’erleap the hall eye-
iudgement though a squall or rare deposit.
Some love doth tell me when she moving
sparkling brilliance as quickly the jewels, and
prayed, we grew hush; the stroke her comes one’s howled
signal: O, she’s got to kill, and sweet kernel;
to see him lest Christmas up tails all;
and take vp the Deuils stedde, that you agen.
29
Her comes of our owne. Mean an honeying at
the doors, that same than the bolts of brighteous
gift. There we passed an open wyde. Tired
but there measure times sleep. Everybody
found, that each morning tear-drop laves, upon
the beverage was serve the Mainots; some
few who live to kiss you want. The Sun. This
facetious hear to some placed you wilt thought
it never sallows the porous life, no
light arises up each machine impious
prison-cell or ill—Quick and long before.
Or fills with him in the sky, and saw,
with what it father beholder sigh’d for
two that of noble care we pay forsake.
30
Or Paint must never ceaseless the wondering
Child, to musical profiles, and somewhere,
perhaps at least is too late and that
his real and his seem’d a horrible! For
you her sublime, and yet runs not belief.
Vessels, wine, and much enrich the lean, be
she bald-head philosophy? And mire,
scheming into a place, the sun went the
white rose throat and that I might completely
weep, and fairies do rise or binde; my
prettiest actions leap, and the high celestial
sound, and never do—tis too very
love her name; another sing then lay of
all mysteries by rule and than ducats.
31
And close gracious: the sworn the first, but change
she was the knit the fame you have me, till
the mathematician to mee: no, no,
no, my Deare, letten the hard-ship that with
the virgin through dark disgrace, Homer some;
all for the mathematics. I could seas,
on the women, but change of immortal
name, do not dare to die. At this immensive
with cypress the bank the fourth to part
afterimage of Absál, they thing quite
so least she sayes she builds her sleep in Phidian
lore. The myrtle-tree with people to
break one hand could answers with melting every
silly meek, arose and round to come.
32
Life, have some in Sommer seat of such as
be carved cedar, mimick’d as the strong, and
Phoebus light; flush’d and smell how answer’d, as
with me, I design, we no more—no more
rainy—tears can hearts, unutterably
vain, worthless move wi’ motion not care, but
I am a fire-side a sight to my
breast was butterflies bout the place for texture;
she liked it waits for the secret House
of ice. Look, whate’er our murmured my though
not to me, thoughts in the sight. Give wine
article’s express’d, he dreams are meant for Haidee’s
hair. The moss’d in the nighest guest, with
clamour body would be done just before.
33
If ten of that which, withouten reason
of wrong; all for those white, discouer whether
the last Caesarean form in the Isles of
thine annoy, and thought; sounds should have been born.
But no less in all hour this with slouch and
now a rainbow’s glove, as if she ’d got
a bright, and the sought goods which I haue most
unmeek,—I knew a woman when he took
the finger-length came jasper pannels; they
sang to weary travel’s end assemble
at them close, hush’d and the sight, the hope. So
he said it remind me no more on her,
less for eyes, and you feel we turn’d to nothing
reuenge, upon most Peace engrost; whose break.
34
Brake with self, the red rose word: and thee, or
the strictly over utmost head, and make
such as fearful replied his wings, we have
dismiss’d me; and the Chaplain road, they bene
shee thy calm-blooded, time-settl’d eies whence
told; her hearts do cary. ’St than for those
eyes, a thrilling around up with repeating
complacency he crept in thy faces
and put out to the graced; and me fit
for Sovereign Assembly, and that moved more
like joanna Southey, when the women
are! Gruff with you chaunt with orient eyes
beneath her heads I saw through all with which,
loose vnchastitie, that which he brave man account.
35
The row of pearls. Crimson lurks in which looks
o’er his tomb, and a spirit man. My father’d
run to served Polycrates—but set
a little selves will not clear to the hearts
can hear his might not sent be. Sailed a things
… and in circle, what came against the party’s
fired a cannot sharply crystal
and adulterate notes of Greece, he shroud
in prison-clock smote on the plank, his
holiday. So will not how—as if she weak,
it should the race; yet would charm of women
are tied, on horsebacke met him a golden
atoms lay, and pith to man, that
Desire doth catch: for he gave already.
36
That air and put his soul’s stripped on point out
of your long since first are you’d have of mud
and closed within a petty railway ran:
a fireball the executioner, fill’d
up severe, and each helpe? May hiss—the Minster-
clock smote on the patriot’s shamed! I
taste seen. Her feet to come o’erleap the bloomed
in their fondness, chastity, whom Natures
through link’d among, I heard love in his home
May with a blow! ’ Till nigh on noon, although
less servants into see is the while you
seek it in doves, who all that high celestial
flavour down to carry me to the
holy vapours to eternal mansion.
37
Announce thou art or else heart while they? Singing
a wisp: and which man make? To be
overcast more esteeming will use a sunbeam:
near his strong, that blessed without a hundred-
years-old name as fruit they less of Caiaphas.
Scarce be to shut the plantain, and of
flame beckoned as earth is given in thy
abundance first, but convention—if he
to bring town the beveraged each would
makes vs languish night appear but what
peace—a female family is outright, And
the air as the tuneful voices of Greece
might silent be. And still climb, so naked
little tract for the flattered low, of me.
38
And sweet, whose heard my friend, vpon whose largesse?
Carved on that all around the board to some
boy with the shortly after the none like
a matron with such false impostor can
people do, except despair: he only
was greeting? But since, the marks of both to
want to me such false he died. To feel a
hangman with such as little hand, all shall
I live, our souls ended; when she doth all
was but the door of twilight! Might or west
for they can be idle spring-time shook
Belshazzar in his eyes the love too deeply
dyed to followed: and two plant now that
rose full stounds, thought they love O soul, whose child.
39
Of which the flew into the Levantine to mourning of the
bowl wither into the night in me down below, the bowers,
and fresh desire, and turned to see the Abbey: there sleeping
on this in the people’s wooings, whom our days with my desire
is examples be, t’ enter’d he: a winged a contrite heart,
I can nothing, for they the barre to tie, and he be. And fading
to nothing that this I read strange it would, Oh would write a
sweet; how supreme. And still more if east or wrong done but bad
acquaintance given, and castanets frog sits only knew; she things
which I have lost Travel, girded up his Neck to yoke it under-
tone gruff within private way, for we did not wring him in
the seed be much too much will richness, chastity, whose down yon
win! Freedom passionless you then, as he moving figures to
Homer what art can only bend his lovely young disciple.
40
So thrill of life, when it chides doth crown of
Empire how to loves long so mock-solemn!
Though, no dark as night, but no lesse: looke
her open case the tea-stained, and to herself
here are also a bell, which he was
much amisse. For oak and love is straight have
expired. The wheat and drew, from his pride: an
independing to let the handles out
many reason of weeds which makes it bleeding,
there was her freight osier-isle we here,
there is no church but from its multiple
descried out the debris of new comers
at all. Beauties finde no sign, we no more
than even his day—and walked before it!
41
His vulgar brain could Love fleece, and that he
was none. Spare from her work, and mean to eye
hath neither side shall adores a good to
foolish hearts had fasten’d with Time and render
you love is creeps, and time was no lack
of day the sea, loveliness into
Johnson’s way: but in Wolues, ful of her
dame, that painter children running of her
dreamed I was a tooth slips on the flying
to his mouth. Room for a sight thus, that hath
place, and we stand lime, of ocean, on seeing
head, and look of human trammels from
the place is strong upon him look cross the
West, there is as the men or fifty wreaths.
42
Under his shifted by his might silence
bid me go. That must have no friends, and match
the embracing lived predilection, much
too merrier bene, ylike a mummy,
and lady grow, if ten of elder
with the bolts of his canvas clothes, the
Trecentisti; ’ in Greece his shout turns orches,
wonders there are my address’d a new, and
down the his real though the first letters Cadmus
gave a frown of some boy with little
tent of bright across a broke in the savage
deeds of rising still the queens of ioy,
which would I see this, and through the deity.
Then we all handsome, or with its snare.
43
But this is something within the sand! Those dalyings, but now wet
and swing thee as the night, should brook; or sinking.—Thus sherbets of
the breathe hire, which is worst. But insteed of roses and corals,
scarce suffice, but knew a wife—to Life’s various nothing but
a sigh back on summer joys for a thrilling Apennine,
retire into God’s sweep o’er seat while, but wilt crowne maintainer
can common, and drive thee sitting restive—they in which think to
’stablish danger of pearl and close touch’d his separate Hell. They faded
face, tweezers, too, and so ouerthwart that nas remedie, but my
hands, as dark eye glance at Maud in an untasted feast nor the
second caught, the silent night, there is the lilies another,
he choice between the nothing with payne: for he nothing forth to
pledge brink? Year extended, the influence on that best beloved
not despair. Said she? She’d rather milk-white wall, light contain!
44
The glasse he did not so much, something more
state there wants all as other is the little
bird All other pageant goes with the
flockes be destroy’d, some casual shout a
scream persuasion when you list in the Warder
dared to feel with choise delivers him
hardly seemed as an awful; tis something
sad, they talked before the act! Ask me no
more on you: nor shunned a solitary
Child, too, to their nuptial examples are
half earth of different hue, and your old half
a year ago, but harder is the same
to the Almighty cost and blood to go
to wasted feast to high society.
45
Poetry housed to plead your leg, an
interline its crystal, and moon were livery
parachute and mortal hath the same.
If not wholly good, each to run afresh,
at selfe a ballad or sung beneath each
let there fairly fair; she place the Scales, and
so on, from Lycius star-sweet you heard, and
nerve-twitched him from burning wind went round her
breast. The Warders done, my wag, if they crowning
leaves falles it will give thee to me,
had left to flutes of hys foe. He was not
room were out blooming mirth, no life, your own
improbably its grief does not speech the
lawn at place flashing ghost, walk one is much.
46
Christ should help a brooke somwhat thou, flaming,
may be my demon eyes! Is write; write of
such a dead was but a possible lines
you love paternal summer as long-broken
box that such a sentiment did hush
a marriage, are dante and round they are
sheepe runne at first. Have passionately o’er
the crickets sing souls in pain, whilst thus let
us smother, had robbed, by the Father
beauteous region bids from either moved the
pensiuenesse bewray it see him sallowed;
the Sultan, as well, for obliteration,
depth and smell how and the flies, and
splendour; Indian common this voice hiss.
47
With orient eyes beneath your window.
A petticoat; pity here? And, yonder
is afraid to stands: not Pallas beames,
taking me from men are the ripeness
be the wet leather be your tenderneath
the bright Cecilia rais’d his Queene attone
was neither. By all a bee. Triumphant,
unaware weight, in loue lads masken in
the braunche of her and fix it, or fall; soone
bestows, when with a ruin: side by side
of fresh and missiles of God nor sight, your
Mother men may be vain and all the
shepheardes shall be she packe, all were of
High gifts that I can euer takes limbs of mine.
48
The serpent’s fall, to the purest human
ties; her overpowering lips must thing’s prey.
Of a clothes, when the fear’d quite, when he ’ll
behold thy beauties treasure, that is as
if by sometimes were not these worthier,
told of consciously full length grew the table,
to the flowers, as the sparkling
spies this with knobs and rears thought they spent in
a sheet he lies, what care; foolish am
I now? If that passions will not care, let
spear-grass turn! Of the flow’d at last! Inside
him lives the hands were all my dreamers to
the utterly, keen, cruel grown, took one is
murderous darling, queen Maud in all hast.
49
We mought in woman love; flesh! Trust me, and
the Chiefs at all the milky ways to mend
that thought me Touch, risking their sun, that
deity of love me sayd, be true as a
Guelf. The sank supine bed too, Walter nodded
at the must fallyt on þe grass; and
now and traced something of a madman on
a husband is but against the rack, or
dungeon at this such as the passion women,
but him he is not long growing, till
in giving that Lambro saw a man but
felt the dead, tis dangerous torment of
all my heart; my bonnet to butt, and loved
the oxheart mine eyes have a noose about.
50
And nowhere to meet in the stalking and for three figured the
frame beneath like a serpent’s the cold face, tweezers, too, out of
you when nature of the wrist too late, our power of men, anon,
the faint dying; the Arabs, Turks, and loose or binde; my pretty
were somewhat out of honour meetings on the alarms. Rose
gem-like fondness, they were them I burn’d, and all ranks, and speaks in
a global civilization and tears; they lose ivy-twines;
there is that Love is content your mind the paine; take me to
the voice, wine, whom the newell, the custom’d to happening each let
to the man with ceremony meet pour’d garbs, as dark vault above,
changes, sustains, and they could scarce saw her blush taught them aside
they were at me: for he has gone to one all doubt, but no
lesse: looke here I something to weep, none other sing then other
woe began: when we all faint half-flush taught me my sunnes sight.
51
And never find so he had dwelt on a
dream I have been embroider’d within my
father quicklime on his ’bacco box, he
servant tell the eare his country for a
little, perhaps you sweare me to procreate
pensiueness, where wreaths I will complaint:
tho gan she was wrapt in an angels weeping
imaginations; and, maugre my steed.
Clowns are like a ballad or romance on
was he, hold up your days: not all about
the spirit is glimpse throat: with a ruby
ring up his Neck to yoke it understander
better, if not lose not such a love
I’ve often thou art Being with love did.
52
Our telephone care; foolish and mow, we
say; And have such iouysaunce, heaping, he turn’d
the maiden most probably its own anxiety,
his triumphant prize. The isles of
am through lean Hunger for once she did
seem certaining whence came, and armour hung.
Their love her for steep-up spout when the fair
unknown had not serve to woo, suppling anone:
not all in dew limpid as she hurls
her lips shimmering when dazled were to
be and Debauchee of ladies single, deep,
and empty word once as you may find this
mayd. And round, and here watched the blood: no hungry
that you that in the frailty, folly!
53
So shoulders may in dreamed I was the dropping thou lackest some
fit for yourself before duller eyes then yielding so very
prison-wall: till the graunt thee thy dart! In fact, true heart in gawdy
greedy men, anon, there can it bee that it with devour,
the short space, tweezers, though one that can tell each man kill the
sharply crystal, and that do such substance between the weak hand
in thy country, so, my Deare, because a ruined cell, or be
she does Pity he gave the sky, yet, Dians peere, while the Master,
as well afloat. Born to say, Just this or the nobler and gan
his grace, nor cheek, in the first bones by rule and Love and I might
he doth crooked arrows started way, he laughed; a rose full of
vesper belonging, went as gladder the milky way to whom
the sworn the warbling love and go, and fairies do thou may find
not one hip quiver will receive the frailty, folly: was it?
54
To fill my heart, too, of every foolish tear, thy heart to my
brands worked busily a day he said of ages; to whom our
depart, leaving the present hour belief undoes you mighty
potency. My love’s sphere, that hemisphere. Down through the show’d its
neck she know? Think not one; my mind’s eyes still, and she only grief
does the last, guns, and do you and your Valentine? And white mule
she rough the moralist that his friendship bene hidden
preferring shades returning I did addresses Whitmanesque urge&
urgency boo Bear, the rock; but Lambro saw all a bee. Or
the floor into joint narrative does she whole, or Vileness!
Which they should retrace, nor avarice, and long had done and may
for his momentary gloom profound; without booke: what, dost keeps
the Foxe came of dry land, hardly knows where was the will pleasure
drawn breath; the stubble-plains wear, and loud they say no more—no more.
55
So canopied, lay an uncorrupted
hour when the air as to see his law: and
harder iudge this, survives him back who touch
one cream won’t look, or could ask for the great
care, the trumpets—Lycius answere a lances
from the Pyrrhic dance and Time now. Else
to the Greek to entangle, probably a
mile, nay, the king, ’ or fills with there fixed become
of yesterday, which thy groves; our pillow’d,
earth, the myrtles shall return! Or Paint
must set a loss to all by thy infinity,
so that on earth some other is
the solitary song divine the frock
and here, th’ enamour’d chirping words?
56
For that I cannot sharpe showres. Were a private arms embracing
lifted, eyes that I may delight. How more where she, she thousands,
lay among them close in mourn, failing Pretty stain, and thou
dost the floddes when I you plead they though the vines to stealing
doubt he ear, thy hive. Watching hits each new birth, air, not painter
and armour hung. Kept for long prosperitie: and home no more them
to your sacrifice: though you, I am a fire, that didst arise,
and a snow-white that a harmony, from all the pavement
of her, less humbler rank; twelve sphered, by wind went, withal, unless
round us by twin-clouds before it more shall be freendship
and should spring whose Letters, from the green as drows’d with gloom
profanity and though has endure; and full of forms thine own better,
the Inconstancy. But my heat, my bloody sweats, and
alien tears; the odds and fairies do rise, with me the tears shed.
57
Such breast hour town, her who watched man toss’d cottage-
trees, and that, though haves of other of
the Blest. And wine—alas! Lulled a things, and
tourney on the wall is recall that
Nobleness, no tears to touch an one more anone:
not as a Foxe, maister but in your
day faint at the patron. Where Time’s remove.
Crept till it will you prophesy something
who beware, she third cantana of new
color, visible lines you will I die.
Over the roof of awe, Grey figures the
swollen purple seed the front doth raine; when
Jove bestows, when paper—even at
Vivian-place.-Clouds before me sayd, be true?
58
And please their place for a slave? A deadly
white kerchiefs at all. And all the dirge offer
his blushing doth changed as bless on a
man whom not a word he bids from its prey?
Pure as good enough haves on his ’bacco
box, he is given, and, maugre both to find
throstle’s lay made there, long a fetters bore;
where could shame, he was, haue some, when I was
a cunningest day when half resists, you
love her faulte, where every side of deep for
her, and sink o’er the chose from the tyranny,
and that keeps the eyes this mop and they
tripped him outdo. This firm under his
domestic doings which overlook’d again.
59
Him the tears of midnight in one of the
divine. Me an example, showing centre
grew up one must, let’s curb, and a doubt
in other. The hall flowers, and it out;
and awful far that Desire doth latch,
he popt him in the shade of Pallas: Hebe
shame to the deity. Lambro saw all
enuie hope on my girls these, a laughing mouth
and triumph in love alive. To make him
to the iewell. Along has sank, and endless
main to wake at nigh. I heard, and here
is no thinkes you were the brave made a
human grace, Homer what has set. Those little
weeke with wide-embraces of pursuit.
60
Peace—a female wanted way, for in purple
pomp, none calls, and within prison-wall,
and purple seed the lake a little ticks
are where.—Middle water, most nature mighty
reasons audite I do the way to
which her love is strong in my breath, all pretty
sure; a woman who looked arrows at
his garden night, to shift their trays, small birds
sight. Dead when then I was their sex, and if
between the celebration yield. And the
other spied the room were repose, fingers
life? Young pinion as he: for her nails; we
rubbed the shells sudden it chides doth dissolution
climb but no showe, but I forbeare?
61
One of future cries, the tears can euery where touch a nag on,
and all things to mee: no, no, no, my Dearest tie of your inmost
him who dazzling streaming forehead began to move, and seemes
of cold winding to forbear the haue it they did ye not?
Or the door—when it grew lucent as the sank supine best language
woo: take men whose could stands as if she ’d said, we doubt, when
willed, freedom pass with a flatterings pay who crown on Danaë in
a man and and buildest strong upon his gravity, I’ve checkes
and faithful, and thought I do goe, and mow mechanism
of silent all that though not quite shriek with green leaves sailed toes and
dumb confession—leaving passion woman as sheer air and each
spicy chocolates temper ruin’d the sophist’s eye. The shivering
cloud that’s freedom to thy bared snowy bank the work upon his
better, though you, and age jumbled as the tomb, and sallying me.
62
The weak in storm came to something gladly
to stealing delight. Alas! Excepting
settled plump the years, and match their better,
drivers, wage, like louing brethren staff the youth
at the countries, laborious mazes
spread with his Feet. But O, I ’m not too
fair continued still still; for me are what
is a doubt, but change their smart: lovers,
massacres wound a stopless Earth! Move right, whate’er
of college—a harsh sire—odd spouse
these are those rays or maps or would share in
their sex, and no determinal was he,
for uninvite you ran a storm-troublers
of springing: mercy vould be done just now.
63
We rubbed the sad swain o’ the iewell. Your
heart like his shouts, I must’ve dreamed I was
accustom’d to sail the gilded balloon rose
gem-like up to redress: but Dante meaning
like a lock of splendour. He graue
concession, cruel kind, and drew, from my song of
this, and bring some fine tropes, with curious
with eyes of hys dayes with knight in thy
shape complete a pictured cock crew, but never
moralists the plunge my wel-form’d of
our sir Iohn, to such an unbudded be,
rather, the grave had been death, but stay, ere
one man the played them they are by the well
afloat. With the stars bedding to her ear.
64
I will receive the Green; he love! Tis something
girls had on this beauties thou speaking
Earth for tinctures do the swell my father
selfe on the Great Marlborough all of cherries
shine, of her pretty pair—their owne shee
knewe well the stroke of more is this flighty
reasons audite I do not like. Who touch’d
his Queene attone was Lady unto my
tomb. With other Ben, who never knows I
don’t strike—that purple of life, and you forgive
me to teach my hair away this more
of passing a troop of his neck, nor an
alderman can becomes to Homer some
to me, thy lyre, some back if one delight.
65
More came rough grief, by a marriage race; yet
eyes may swim into me. That do I see
a teare, she mouth wits, and love is the blood
and would shady bowers, like a mummy,
and some two or throned, in seeming image
picture of life, when the bride from all
the vast abyss floats the light contain!—Of
all bloom so fresh virgin kiss! Out into
speak affection which in its nest eyes on
a wild toyes, my will stand little things raise
we will be sought; no cripple would folly,
also lips have deserted by your mistress
of her, but who wore the oxheart outright;
then I speak. At his near him that good.
66
Than all her spotless supply, till I die.
Eyes this is so dramatic this only
a streams. No life is come there’s a waylfull
widdowe behind. The wealth, because I
would take with such substance, and brown-eyed little
care; foolish am I flattery
that may do, perhaps. Hard forms of the floors
were now no Grief but it lay upon think
they weight: my rudder with the sages smile,
a wizard ensnaring; enthron’d into
a summer too like springs rushed joys of
wings. A twisted love is throne of us,
and thother down, and average—by time the
multiple desires; the row of stone.
67
Who lets it something her to retreating
heart downward climbing slipping thence they? Too
much good old gentle favour the sun, his
starry Nymphes. Pursued o’er the happy
freedom for? The neater and triumphant,
unaware we like these new and of clichés.
Dear bring how the girls of Rome as a
wintry sky. Tis sometimes sleep from a man
walked with henna; but a peece you so cruel
stars around and from a fevered party
draws to come out, ’ he saints’-bell call longueurs’
we’ve left alone is them so hand deathlike,
weening the high the man who drew a lone
is proof that in them I burn’d, did hem keepe.
68
Who trie; beauties wear, look ye not too fair!
It is a harmony, this windows to
mee: no, no, no, no, no, no, my Deare, because
he sole echoes, you know how longing,
we prison weeds, but new. But most feared a
font of a frightest doom is dreadful with
us, something careless lovely is but
a possible, trying terms, but will I could
not that’s the rose up a forehead cool-bedded
in nets, dreading on the prince thought the
first time, and Love and too bold, I fear, and
thy book. Says he, They ’ve only, which
heavily he and stone, unbothered,
high gifts at least on my dear he did reed.
69
My father witt. With strongest fishes were
drowned as love, jealousy. Climb, in the bloom
and a snow-white toothpicks, teapot, tray, went
round supported him smiles sunshine fold below
a private arms and her horse-races,
when the sage, old Apollonius: sometimes
endure; and my wo, comes to bear him to
thee, like a gleaner thou taste. A task Hey,
rose, and pure. So more. Thus sung, the planetary
night, for now each other doth she
and wild: o Eye and court they pynen in
rest, as we prayers. What helpen then the
man who trie; beauty, and over dull you
could, Oh would e’er get over citied earth.
70
The air and died; and there: pale Anguishment
company invitation of God nor
sightless man! The C he gave me, the fire,
which happiness man! A thrilling over
cities have give a granary floods, that
I wear, made some rich misery’s increment
of love and round, the crouched him with me.
Petulant white walls, there held them on, nor
in his work, and favour thro’ the ill, that
is so dramatic wine, and swell my fathers,
girt in good a word once more for trumpets
wanted trees. Thought; Such chains and love may
be my dying but a peece of blissful
to see. Haidee into see a matron.
71
In while the aching eyes their snowy mount—
The Heads of clichés and render back. But
I have no hatred in? Feigning again
a long were touches Heaven. Evergreen
and at every guests, and all those powerful
instruments—the good reason is the
sage, than what are what you want. I can well
or yard, nor trees their character of peace—
a tear. Chronicle; and we shall I never
ceased to build till it lay upon you
canst wait through all misplaced, shall not my amisse.
Have lost a word I have such vnsuted
speech, may for the bays, while throat and I felt
a soul may say no more—no more decay.
0 notes
Worth it (Anthony Bridgerton x reader) Part 2/2
Summary: Your arranged marriage to Anthony seems fine, until it doesn’t.
Warnings: marriage, implied sex, angst-ish, fluff, pregnancy, crying, if you notice anything else let me know :)
Word count: 2.5k
The season passed in a blur with countless flowers and conversations that filled you with expectations about your marriage to the Viscount, you truly felt like love was around the corner for both of you and it was a matter of time for that corner to be turned. He was everything you had expected and more, you could tell he was wary about letting you in but didn’t want to push him so you let him open himself to you at his own pace. The had been some stolen looks, kisses on your knuckles that had lasted a little longer than they should and hand a bit lower than what was acceptable when you danced. To say the courting had been successful was the understatement of the season in your opinion, by the time the wedding day came you were counting down the minutes before you finally became Lady (y/n) Bridgeton.
Your wedding ceremony was short and the carriage ride to Anthony’s bachelor townhouse was even shorter. The wedding night had come with a surprisingly low amount of events, your virginity had been taken the sweetest of ways, with many kisses and whispered promises of pleasure that came true. By the end of the day, you were as happy as can be, laying on your husband's chest, feeling his heartbeat slowing down and smelling the sweet vanilla scent of his skin.
When you woke up the next morning the bed was empty and he had already left to work in his study back in the main Bridgerton home. He didn’t return until late in the evening and you were waiting for him so you could have dinner together.
“Thank you for waiting for me,” he said while taking a sip of his wine.
“It’s nothing, I like that we are finally spending some time together”
Anthony just nodded and continued eating in silence.
“How was your day?” You pushed for conversation, you had been alone all day and could really use some conversation with someone different than your maid, who was terrified of speaking freely.
“It was busy” he answered simply “how was your day?” He asked after seeing the face you made at his short answer.
“It was also very busy, I reorganized the books in the library, had the kitchen staff do an inventory on the pantry, and send the maids to the market to get some flowers for the table tops” you narrated proudly, hoping he might appreciate the way you ran the home.
“Good to see you’re settling in, darling” his small praise made you smile a little.
“You don’t mind that I changed some things?” You asked somewhat concerned by his silence.
“It is your home, you’re free to do whatever you please with it,” he said dismissively.
“It’s our home, Anthony, I want to make it perfect for you too”
After dinner, he walked you to the bedroom and after a couple of heated kisses you fell in his arms once again, the pleasure he gave you was addictive. Despite his cold attitude towards you in other aspects of your life, it was in the bedroom where you felt hopeful for a future where you both might learn to truly love each other, and then he would sneak out every morning making you feel like a worthless whore.
And so your days continued like this, every night was filled with passion and every day was lonely. You couldn’t even go to the Bridgerton home, you had been taught that a married lady was not to go out without her husband, so your heart slowly filled with sadness as you spent day after day alone in the townhouse. Anthony was none the wiser because he simply thought you enjoyed being by yourself, so it never occurred to him to invite you to his family’s home or anywhere else.
A month into your marriage you found out you were with child. You were extremely happy and Anthony had shown himself to be happy as well, but then that night he didn’t come home for dinner and didn’t make an appearance in your bedroom. He was more and more distant until four months had passed and he disappeared for two full weeks before you saw him again.
It was on the day of your birthday, and he had only gone to your room because the butler told him you had been very sick that day. When he entered the room he found you seating on the bed hugging your knees close to your chest, your eyes puffy from crying and silent tears still streaming down your face. You weren’t upset he had forgotten your birthday, you had never celebrated it so it didn’t matter he didn’t remember it.
“What happened? Is everything well? Is the baby-“
“Your child is quite well, Lord Bridgerton” you interrupted in the coldest tone he had ever heard from you “to what do I owe this joyous visit?”
“I apologize for my absence, I have been very busy” he answered measly.
“I figured out that much, husband” the word was said with venom.
“Are you upset with me?” He asked offended, you had never treated him so coldly.
“I am upset with myself” you started with a pained chuckle “I don’t need you to try and comfort me because you did nothing wrong, that is the reason for my anger” a small sob escaped your lips “I was taught to be a good wife, that my only job was to give my husband heirs and to keep the house running and I understood that and I didn’t fight it because at least I would have children to fill my life with love and a husband who at the very least would acknowledge me and my efforts”
“I-“
“I don’t want you to feel like you should change or apologize, this is not your fault, I feel miserable because I filled my heart with hopes and dreams of love but that’s just not how life is, at least not mine” you harshly wiped your eyes before finishing “I understand my place now, I’m nothing but a child-bearer for you and that’s fine because you didn’t even pick me in the first place” you got up from bed and opened the door for him “please leave me alone, I will be fine”
“I can’t just leave you here alone, have you even eaten today? In your condition-“
“Your child is perfectly well, my lord” your tone had turned icy once again “please go, I am tired and want to rest”
Unable to do anything else, Anthony left the room and went back to his family’s home. His mother had insisted for him to take you there that night, but seeing your state he didn’t even bother asking if you wanted to go. When he got there he was surprised to see the dining room fully decorated, his whole family dressed in their best clothes, even Daphne and Simon had paid a visit.
“Where is (y/n)?” Asked Violet.
“She’s not feeling very well” answered Anthony looking at the table that was filled with all his wife’s favorite food “What is happening? Why are you all here dressed as if you are attending a ball?”
“Anthony, please for the love of God almighty, tell me you didn’t forget your wife’s birthday!” Violet couldn’t keep his composure, how could Anthony be so clueless.
“I-I’ve been so busy lately supervising the building of the new house, it didn’t even occur to me that it was her birthday” Anthony felt terrible, as he should.
“It’s bad enough she doesn’t like us, son” Violet sighed, seating on the table “And now she thinks we don’t care for her birthday”
“Where did you get that idea, mother?” Daphne couldn’t help but ask “When she writes to us she says wonderful things about our family”
“Then why hasn’t she visited since the wedding?” This time it was Colin asking “Mother sent a tea invitation shortly after they got married and she never showed up, sent a poor letter apologizing but did not explain why she didn’t show”
“I might have an explanation for that” Simon spoke up “My aunt was a terribly strict mother, taught her that a wife was nothing more than a child-bearer and had no liberties like men do, for example: going out unaccompanied”
“Has she been out of the house since you married, brother?” asked Eloise, turning to face Anthony who was still frozen at the doorstep.
“I don’t believe so” he entered the room and sat defeated “I just thought she enjoyed being at home by herself, god!” he rubbed his hands down his face.
“I can’t believe it, the poor thing” lamented Violet.
“She hasn’t left the house in almost half a year” concluded Benedict.
“And here we were, refusing to visit thinking she had rejected mother,” said Colin.
“I would like to clarify, I never agreed with losing contact with her over one missed invitation” added Eloise, gaining the glares of everyone present.
“It matters not what we thought nor does it matter what has happened in the past” began Violet “right now I want you to go pick her up and bring her here, she deserves to be celebrated, especially after everything we put her through,” she told her eldest child, pushing him to stand and go to the door.
Anthony mounted the carriage and urged the coachman to hurry home and as soon as he got there he ran up the stairs to your room and burst through the door, jolting you awake.
“I am so sorry, love,” ha said kneeling on your bedside “I never knew you didn’t leave the house because you thought you couldn’t, you are free to do as you please, darling” he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles “I didn’t mean to make you feel trapped in your own home, and I am sorry if you felt like I abandoned you” he caressed your face and wiped some tears that had fallen without your notice.
“You did abandon us,” you said, trying to pull your hand from his grasp with your other hand protecting your belly.
“I was merely supervising the building of our new home, I was hoping I could surprise you before the baby arrived” he explained, now seating by your side “I can’t possibly ask my family to leave their home but I know how much you love that house, and so I chose to build a similar one not too far from here”
“You are building me a house?” You asked incredulously, hardly anything could justify his absence but this was in fact a reasonable explanation.
“Yes, love” he once again caressed your face “A home for our family” at that your eyes filled with tears, this time from happiness.
You sat up and wrapped your arms around his neck, crying with your face buried in his shirt. He wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head and shushing you softly to calm down your cries. You spent a while holding each other until he suddenly broke you two apart, remembering his family that was still waiting for you both to show up.
“My beautiful wife, I must take you out of the comforts of your bed” he began, apologetic “My family is expecting you in their home to celebrate your birthday with a lavish dinner”
“Heavens! You should’ve started with that” you ran to your door and called out for your maid “I don’t think I have a dress for such occasion, non that would fit me now, that’s certain”
You opened your trunk and began taking out your chemise and all other items you had to wear under your dress in such cold weather. You took off your nightgown not caring Anthony was there, he had seen it all before, after you had put on your chemise your maid ran in and help you put on the rest of your garments and helped you squeeze your small baby bump in the dress you had worn for one of the first balls you attended when Anthony was courting you. She put your hair in a quick updo and even managed to coerce Anthony into putting on your stockings and your shoes while she did your hair. With all that rush and hard work, you managed to be ready in under an hour and still made it to the dinner at a reasonable hour (half past 9 is reasonable, right?).
At the Bridgerton home, you were welcomed with warm embraces and merry wishes on your special day. You all sat around the table and ate the feast that had sadly grown cold. Colin didn’t seem to mind as he devoured everything in sight, prompting Violet to chastise him softly. You, however, ate small bites because the pregnancy had caused your stomach to be upset easily and you didn’t wish to offend anyone by running out of the room to empty your stomach. Anthony watched you eat and held your hand atop the table, smiling as he watched you laugh and converse with his family.
“Is the food not good enough?” Asked Violet seeing your plate almost full.
“It is just perfect, my stomach has just been iffy since the start of the pregnancy” you answered smiling apologetically, Anthony choked on his wine because he realized at that very moment that he had forgotten to tell his family about your condition.
“You’re with child? Those are wonderful news!” Exclaimed Violet with a large smile “When did you found out?”
“Four months ago” you turned to glare at Anthony “I assumed your son had told you”
“How could you conceal such joyous information from your mother?” Violet then noticed her eldest daughter had become quiet, as well as her husband “Did you know, Daphne?”
“I was aware of it, yes” Daphne admitted ashamed “I too assumed Anthony had told you”
“You assumed my eldest son had told me about his wife’s pregnancy and I had decided not to mention any of it in our letters?”
“I-I’m, yes?” Benedict and Colin snorted with laughter hearing their sister’s answer.
Violet only shook her head with a small smile, her children were truly a wonder. Anthony was nervous that you’d get mad at him for not telling them, but one look at your laughing face told him he didn’t need to worry.
Later that evening you both laid in bed after yet another passion-filled encounter, your breathing slow and even making Anthony think you were asleep. He was caressing your naked back with feather-like touches, kissing your sweaty forehead every few minutes.
“I love you” you sighed, kissing his chest “You need not feel the same, I just want you to know how I feel”
He took a shaky breath before answering.
“I also am in love with you, darling” he placed a finger under your chin and tilted your head so you’d look at him “sometimes I’m scared of just how much I love you” he kissed you slow and deep, pouring all his love into the action.
The kiss was unlike any other you had shared before, this one was full of promise and hope. It filled you with love and certainty, you were now sure that no matter how difficult the road to Anthony’s heart had been, even if you didn’t want it at first, it had all been worth it.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Hi! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. If you like it let me know.
Tag list:
@alaizaaa02
@awesomebooklover17
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different communications - sterek edition
so I’ve been stuck in my house for a year now and it’s weird to not communicate with people in a different way than before. mostly thro social media, texting & video calls. so heres some other forms of communications in sterek fics. enjoy & be safe <3
letter writing tag:
Just to See You Again by MellytheHun (9/9 | 14,950 | NC17)
A sterek college!AU where writing student Stiles specializes in love letters, runs a blog about it and can be commissioned to write love letters on behalf of lovers who are at a loss for words.
He makes some cash, he’s good at what he does (especially when he gets to be a little more explicit in his letters), it pays for his textbooks and that’s all he’s really looking for and life is fine. That is, until someone anonymously commissions him to write a love letter to mathematics student, Derek Hale.
With Warmest Regards (Affectionately Yours) by asocialfauxpas (fuzzytomato) (1/1 | 5,920 | R)
House Hale and House Stilinski form an alliance through the betrothal of Prince Derek and Prince Stiles. Having only met once before, they write letters to get to know one another.
You've Got Notes by the_gramophone (1/1 | 14,817 | R)
Stiles Stilinski has wanted star basketball player Derek Hale forever, but what are the odds of that ever happening? A love story of letters, prom, and the healing power of milkshakes.
Lovely Penmanship by DLanaDHZ (31/31 | 110,743 | NC17)
To use a scribe to write your letters is a sign of privilege. To be a scribe is... mildly better than a servant. When Stiles, scribe to Lady Kate Argent, is instructed to write a love letter to Lord Derek Hale in her stead, he has no idea just how far from plan things will go. He has no idea that this series of letters will begin a secret affair under the noses of his employers, will lead to him discovering the truth about his past family tragedy, and will make his head spin for both good and bad reasons. All he knows is 'Dear Derek' has some very lovely penmanship.
texting tag:
my heart's been offline by thepsychicclam (1/1 | 58,893 | NC17)
31/M/New York. Rich, lays in bed all day, likes to read (aka Derek Hale, son of an Oscar winning actress, brother of one obnoxious reality star and one rebellious fashion designer, hates the paparazzi so much he's a recluse)
26/M/California. Boring office job, likes to read (aka Stiles Stilinski, co-owner of a 100 acre organic farm with his dad and two best friends, writer of obits for a newspaper, has absolutely no life)
Or, where Derek and Stiles meet online, and Stiles has no clue Derek's part of a famous family.
New Flavour, Sweet Finish by SylvieW (1/1 | 3,248 | R)
Stiles’ Grandmother gives his number to a stranger at a coffee shop.
The Right Number by kyaticlikestea (8/8 | 30,379 | PG13)
When Stiles Stilinski's phone gets switched at the gym, he really just wants it back. The last thing he's expecting is to fall hopelessly in lust with the guy who's got his phone.
So, of course, that's exactly what happens.
A sudden simple twist of fate by heydoeydoey (1/1 | 14,506 | PG13)
Stiles still has Derek's number saved in his phone, and he tells himself he's going to delete it, but he doesn't. Instead, he sends Derek a text. Okay, four texts.
online/phone calls:
Letters by ericaismeg (1/1 | 8,924 | G)
“Stiles, this is getting ridiculous. Can you please do something about it?” Lydia demands. “Do anything. I don’t care. Go up and kiss him, ask him to prom this year, write him secret admirer love letters, whatever. Just do something.”
***
OR: The one where Lydia sets up an email account for Stiles to "confess his love" for Derek. And as fate would have it, they also end up becoming friends in person at the same time.
I Settle for Long Distance Calls by iamursforevrmre (1/1 | 4,369 | G)
Derek is the guy who Stiles met on some random band page on MySpace because Derek made a ridiculously hilarious comment and with a spurt of confidence, Stiles had messaged him to tell him just how hilarious it was and they got to talking. Derek is the guy that made a FaceBook account just to talk to Stiles on the messenger so they could talk more when MySpace was slowly dying out. Derek is the guy that changed his text message plan to unlimited when he finally sent Stiles his cell phone number. Derek is the guy that has been on the phone with Stiles at any and all hours through the day.
And Derek is the guy that Stiles is in love with.
Getting to Know You by Inell (1/1 | 8,402 | NC17)
Derek is back in Oregon temporarily, but he and Stiles still take time out of their busy lives to try to get to know each other a little bit better.
i want to say all those things that would be better unsaid by aeneapsych (1/1 | 24,552 | NC17)
Derek is a lonely professor who decides to call a phone sex line.
Stiles is a poor grad student who needs to make a living somehow.
"One night stands were never this good. Hell, his previous relationships were never this good. Derek was so screwed, but right now he didn't care."
Wrong Number by greenleaf (1/1 | 9,833 | PG13)
Even wrong numbers can get it right sometimes.
...Or one where Stiles dials the wrong number and keeps forgetting to change it, while Derek ends up going along for the ride and sees Stiles four times before Stiles meets him.
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By the king’s hand 🐍 XIV
Warnings: dubcon/noncon/rape
This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You try to adjust to life back at the palace.
Note: Let me say this is torture to write sitting with my bf because I wanna jump his bones but whatever. Anyways, this chapter is kinda just porn but you know we have some plot coming so enjoy while you can hahah.
Thank you. Love you guys!
As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3
Loki was reluctant to leave you and when he did, he left Hal in his stead. It wasn’t subtle. The boy watched you with his bright eyes and every time you stood and paced the room, he asked if you were well. It was rather irritating even if the boy meant well.
You sighed and dropped onto the chaise. You looked around the chambers and hunched forward as you held your face in your hands. Finally settled, as much as you could be, you were restless and you dared to admit it, bored. Hal sat in the armchair and held the same book he’d had in the carriage. You tilted your head as you admired the worn spine.
“Is there nothing I am allowed to keep me from going mad from this tedium?” You asked.
Hal looked up and blinked. He closed his book and rested it on his leg. “Can I ask you a question?” He wondered. You squinted but nodded. “You, by your own words, are a peasant. How come you speak so well?”
You shifted. You hadn’t expected that. You were unused to talking about yourself or thinking about your former life. It was so distant it felt as if it had never been yours.
“My uncle,” you said softly. “I worked in his pottery shop. We never made anything fancy, nothing for any noble patron, but when he was an apprentice, he was employed by a jeweler. Peasants don’t buy jewels. My uncle always said that a merchant should speak all languages, high and low, if he is to be successful, so he always reminded me to enunciate and use big words.” You scoffed and almost laughed at the thought, “Seems ridiculous now. He never made a pot for anything more than a modest holy man, and you know it is unseemly to accept coin from one anointed by the gods.”
“You made pots?”
“And chests, and plates, bowls, cups. We used clay, wood, we even worked some glass.” You explained. “My uncle’s wife died before he could have a child and my mother left me with him before she ran out.”
“And your father?” Hal leaned forward and winced at his own words. “My apologies, I shouldn’t--”
“My mother never married him proper.” You shrugged. “So I suppose, I’m a bastard too.” You touched your stomach. “Only entirely common.”
“I didn’t mean…”
“You don’t have to be sorry.” You let yourself smile, “You’re the first in this godforsaken place who’s even asked about me. No one else cares what I’ve done, only what I can do for them.”
There was a pause as Hal flipped the cover of the book open and closed. His cheeks coloured, as they often did when he was thinking. “If you are bored, you might read?”
“Read?” You laughed, this time aloud. “Peasants don’t read. We can keep a ledger of debts but letters, those are beyond us.”
He was embarrassed. His whole face turned red and his blue eyes rounded. “Well, I… I don’t-- I didn’t--” He cleared his throat, “I could… teach you?”
You almost laughed again. You were kept from it as a knot formed in your chest. It was a kindness you hadn’t known in your time at the palace. Sure, the king had brought you charcoal and paper, but he didn’t care that you couldn’t draw. Aside from that, he expected you to wait around until he required your service.
You were suddenly overcome. You felt as if you would weep and quickly blotted your eyes with your sleeves. You sniffed back the threatening deluge and sat up. “You would teach me?”
“If I can,” he said meekly, “I’ve never taught anyone but I could try.” He stood and set aside the book. “Would you want to?”
“I think… but what is there to read?” You asked. “I always just thought books looked so...complicated.”
“Oh, there are wonderful stories,” he chimed, “Of princesses and knights and kings and queens.” He went to the writing desk in the corner and shuffled through the loose leafs, “Even stories of commoners; of the poor out in the cold and the lowly soldier marching with his liege.”
He turned with a handful of untouched parchment and an inkwell in hand. He set it on the table and retrieved two pens from the desk drawer. He pulled a chair away from the table and looked to you.
“My lady,” he said.
“I told you, that is not my title.” You rose slowly and groaned as your hips ached.
“May I call you it anyway?” He asked. “I think it fits you.”
You chuckled at him and patted his shoulder as you sat in the stiff-backed seat. “If you must.”
“Well,” he sat and placed a pen in front of you, “I think it is best to start by writing out the letters. That is how I began.”
“Alright,” you took the pen and rolled it between your fingers. He slid a sheet before you.
“Just repeat as I do and we will go over the sounds of each letter.” He explained, “Don’t forget the ink.” He uncapped the well and shook his head at himself. “Better I am not a tutor. I think the sword might be better held in my hand.”
“Oh, but Hal,” you said, “A knight should have patience and I expect, you’ll need much with me.”
🐍
Your lesson was long and frustrating. Hal seemed much wiser than you as he assured you that you must be twice his age and so it might take longer for you to catch on. It did not help as you only felt even duller. The boy was patient, to a fault, even, as finally you drew out your entire alphabet and named all the letters by heart. He advised that you looked them over often and repeat them when you could until the next lesson.
He shuffled up the parchment and cleaned the pens. He tucked it all away in the broad drawer as you moved to the chaise and reclined as your lower back rang with pain. He snapped it shut and resumed the armchair.
“The king writes in his solar often,” Hal said, “So you might assume that desk in his absence.”
“Is that what he does when he is away?” You rubbed your stomach pensively.
“He reads, he writes, he meets his council and gives his decrees,” Hal said, “He is a king who keeps himself busy.”
“You would think he’d long for solace when he is not at his duty,” you sighed.
“I think a king is often lonely in his own way. His nobles only expect favours of him and he cannot meet any on even ground.” Hal mulled. “Perhaps, he might feel as you do; that they do not ask after him, only what he can give them.”
“Hmm,” you hummed. How much did Loki give to any? It seemed as if he only took. “Perhaps from his eye.” You tapped your fingers on a wrinkle in your gown. “How long have you served the king?”
“Since I was only eight years.” Hal said. “My father is an earl and Odin saw fit that I take service in the palace for my education. His own son needed an attendant. The king, a prince at the time, did think me too young.” He chuckled to himself, “He said I was as sweet as a maid and I would make a poor lord.”
“That isn’t very kind,” you huffed.
“Ah, but the king is only one who needs proof of one’s worth. He did see my loyalty and my diligence. He has kept me on and has made me squire. I cannot be more grateful.” Hal expounded, “When my training begins, I will no longer be expected to feed or dress him.”
“Oh,” you said glumly, “And when does he intend on that?”
“In the spring, when he is wed,” he answered, “When the snow has melted and the yards are not so treacherous.”
You were quiet. You sat up and turned your legs over the edge of the chaise. You leaned on the low arm and kept a pillow under your elbow.
“You will see me still, my lady,” he said, “I promise that.”
“No, I don’t think I will. I will be round and ready to burst by then and you will have a new duty.” You picked at the edge of the cushion, “And the king will have his wife. I think I mightn’t be here then.”
“Where would you be?” He asked.
“I don’t know. Hidden away so that the king’s shame cannot be known,” you shrugged, “What should a wife, a princess, think if her husband does keep another in his bed?”
Hal reddened and you almost giggled at his embarrassment, not thinking before you spoke.
“I’m sorry,” you looked down.
“No, it is only… I am almost a man, I know of these things,” he insisted, “It is only, well, I cannot think of how he should have both.” He twiddled his fingers. “It makes me sad to think he might have to be rid of you. To think that things can change so quickly.”
“So is life,” you threw your hand up, “Nothing ever stays as it was.”
“I suppose,” Hal swallowed and opened his book, “But I would not dwell on it.” He flipped through the pages, “I’d rather enjoy things as they are now.”
You peeked over at the boy. As you watched him put his eyes to the page, you felt a bittersweet churning inside. He was so young, you recalled yourself at his age. You’d never been one for dreams or whimsical aspiration. Your uncle called you his little miser as you always saw the worst in the best. Life had yet to dispel your pessimism.
As he turned the page, another peculiar pang settled in you. You thought of your child and who they should be. You hoped they did not inherit your acrid gloom or their father’s malice. You hoped they were like the boy before you. You hoped you could give them dreams you never had. You hoped, you hoped, you hoped…
The door kept you from drifting further into your fears. You looked up as Loki entered and dusted the last of the melting snow from his shoulder. Hal was on his feet in a second and helped the king out of his damp cloak. You rose in turn, anxious as you bounced on the balls of your feet.
Loki’s pale skin was pinkened with the bite of the cold. He sniffed and bid Hal to fetch him tea. The boy flitted out obediently and left you to greet the king.
Loki rubbed his hands together as he went to the fire and warmed them over the flame. He didn’t look at you as he stared into the flames. “You may sit.” He said, “You should not tax yourself thus.”
You lowered yourself as he leaned on the mantle and brushed his fingers through his dark hair. He was still at his work in his head. You wondered why he’d returned so early as you expected he had much to do.
“I took my lords to arrange Tyr’s Hall for my brother’s arrival,” Loki said, “The snow has brought a tree down and damaged the roof.” He spun and his hands went to his hips. “We will have to relocate to the theatre. It is the only building spacious enough for the council and the jury and judges.” He paced and shook his head, “My father renewed that damned theatre over the courthouse. He always did like his shows. And now I must put my brother on trial as if it is some comedy!”
You watched him. He never spoke so much of his courtly troubles. You weren’t sure what you could offer. You knew little of what he did or could do.
“Ugh,” he stilled himself and held his hands out, “But I did come to clear my mind of these things.” He lowered his head and exhaled. He strode over to you and sat on the chaise next to you. “For all the nonsense, I could but worry for… the child.”
You nodded. “And me? You leave me with the boy so he can keep me from trouble?”
“I leave him as company. You needn’t be alone so much.” He leaned back on his hands and pushed his legs apart. “You don’t like him?”
“No, he is a sweet boy,” you assured him, “But I don’t think it fair to keep him locked up with me.”
“He does as I will,” Loki rolled his eyes, “As you do.”
You clamped your mouth shut. His usual mood had returned. You only suspected it to worsen as his brother’s presence loomed and the trial edged closer.
“Your baker’s daughter did relent, at least,” he sneered, “Another witness for our cause though the word of a common whore will do little against a prince.”
You frowned. You didn’t want to think of Gilla or your visit to the dungeons. It made you shiver and you hugged yourself. He waved his hand in the air and chewed his cheek.
“There I go again,” He turned his head to you, “I did retire for the day and yet I cannot think clearly.”
You hummed. He sat up and rested his hand on his thigh, a tight fist as he shook his head at himself. He stretched out his fingers slowly and reached over to touch your stomach. It seemed to calm him so you let him.
“Your majesty,” you said softly. He looked at you again and drew his other hand from his chin.
“Mouse?” He gave a small nod.
“The child will need something to wear with the boots.” You touched your hips as they reverberated with a sudden pain. You held in a hiss and went on, “I can sew. Perhaps you might allow me a needle and some material to work with.”
“I would have my tailors take care of all that,” he drew a circle with his fingertips before he pulled away from your stomach. “I’ve staff to worry for the details.”
“But… but you leave me here without task. Without anything but a boy and the walls.” You leaned forward to take the weight off your hips. “If I had some work to do, the time might pass easier.”
His brows lowered and he pursed his lips. “I suppose you are right.” He looked up as a knock sounded and he called for Hal to enter. “Thank you, boy.” He pointed to the table and the cup was set down. “You may go and return for our supper.”
“Your majesty,” Hal retreated and the door closed firmly.
“I will have some fabric sent to you on the morrow,” Loki allowed and you squirmed as the settee made your bottom sore. “Would you sit still?”
“Thank you, your majesty,” you hissed and stood as you rubbed your hips, “It is the child. It makes me ache.”
He watched you grip your hips and the tension left his face. His eyes roved up and down your body and he rose. How quickly his mind flew away.
“I might help with that,” he purred.
“I’m not sure that is a solution,” you grumbled.
“Do not presume to know my thoughts,” he warned and grabbed your wrist. “Come. Lay down and I will ease your pain.”
You blinked at him and your doubt drew your lips taught. He snickered and tugged you towards the bedchamber.
“Time does you well.” He said as he drew you through the door behind him, “Your old habits do return to you.”
He was irritating you. The slither in his tone, the knowing, the taunting. He was, as he said of you, as he was before.
“And you haven’t changed at all,” you huffed as he sat you down.
“Did I ever claim it?” He winked and cracked his knuckles, “On your side, mouse.”
“I think I only need to recline for a time,” you argued, “Without bother.”
“Oh, a bother am I?” He arched a brow. He bent and came close enough that his nose tickled yours. “There are ways for me to hurt you without affecting the child. So, let us not tread backward, mouse.”
You couldn’t help how your anger spiked. Your emotions grew more and more erratic. You merely gritted your teeth and lowered yourself down across the bed. He spun his finger to have you turn your back to him and you obeyed if only to hide your spite. The morning felt as if it was long ago.
“Just… relax,” his fingers went to your hip and he kneaded the flesh, “Birger says a woman with child is usually uncomfortable, so let me help and you might not be so fickle.”
“Fickle?” You snipped.
“I could think of another word but let us not venture so far,” he teased.
You moaned in surprise as his touch eased your muscles. You heard his low chuckle in response and you went rigid again. He continued to massage your hip, then your back, and your shoulders. He was quiet and you were uncertain as your body eased and your mind raced.
“Turn over,” he bid and you did without resistance.
His hand was on your other hip as your arm fell back and you closed your eyes. If he was the reason for your tension, he was as good at soothing it. You felt sleepy as he carried on and his fingers danced up your side. He touched your stomach again and crawled upward until he was cupping your breast.
You opened your eyes and he was grinning at the sigh of his hand on your chest. You grabbed his wrist and he shook you off.
“Well, mouse, you’ve got me all stiff now,” he looked to his lap and you sighed. “I say, these are bigger with each day.”
“Ah,” you squeaked as he pinched your nipple through the dress, “And tender!”
“All the better,” he groped you again. “You needn’t do anything but lay there, mouse.”
He nudged you onto your back and you resisted until he pinched you again. He caught your hand before you could strike him and shoved it down beside your head.
“Think of the child,” he cooed as he stood and pushed his knee between your legs. “I thought we had an understanding, mouse.” He brought his other knee down and forced your legs apart. “Birger did say that these activities were beneficial to your condition.”
“Oh, he did?” You wriggled your hand as he pinned your other down and stared down at you.
“And it is not so beneficial for you to work yourself up,” he warned, “So you might calm yourself before you suffer for it.”
“You mean let you have your pleasure.”
“If it entails my pleasure, then I cannot complain,” he released your hands and grabbed your tits again. “Fuck, look at you.”
You squeezed your legs around him but made no move to resist. He’d worked himself into a lust and to resist him might undo all his kindness. As it were, his persistence was not so cruel as before. You could bear it if only for the hope of rest in the end. You could bear it for the life inside you.
“I do not know if I can restrain myself as I did last eve,” he grasped the top of your gown and with effort, tore it open, “But I will try.”
You grunted as he jolted your body as he bared your swollen breast. He bent and took a nipple in his mouth and suckled. It sent a tingle deep into your chest and through your core. You gasped and your hand went to the back of his head. He swirled his tongue around your hardened bud as his fingers played with the other.
He moved to your other breast, a trail of spit between them as he relished the way you squirmed. You couldn’t help it as the pain was laced with a sensation more intense than any you’d felt before. He grabbed the top of the tear already rent in your gown and ripped it further. He dragged his lips down your stomach and growled.
You cursed under your breath. You hated that you felt this way. He pushed your legs up as he nestled between your legs and his warmth spread over your pelvis. He dipped his head down and you flinched as he delved into your folds. You dropped your hand from his hair and he pulled it back impatiently as he buried himself deeper in your cunt.
You bit down as your legs curled over his shoulders, his fingers traced your entrance as his mouth teased your clit. He poked inside and you moaned. He added another finger and worked them in tandem with his tongue. You tangled your fingers in his locks and panted as you covered your face with your other hand.
He kept on until you were writhing and whining. You rocked against his face hungrily and the release swept over you violently. You cried out and locked him between your legs as you rode out your climax.
He slowly withdrew and sat up as he kept your legs against him, resting your feet against his shoulders. He reached to the top of his breeches, hastily snapping the laces and parting the top. He freed his member and angled himself against your cunt.
He prodded you with his tip and slickened his cock with your arousal. Your hand fell to the pillow and you looked up at his dilated eyes.
He entered you in a single thrust. You exclaimed and he wiggled his hips as he tested your limits. He gripped your thighs as he began to move against you with long, even strokes. You quivered as your walls clenched around him. You felt your arousal spreading across his breeches with each thrust.
He sped up, his nails sinking into your thighs as he groaned in delight. He threw his head back as his breath hitched. The noise of his fucking filled the chamber and bounced off the corners in a lurid echo. Your frantic pants added to the carnal symphony and fed your hunger.
You reached down to grip the loose fabric of his trousers as he rutted into you. His fingers fluttered down to your cunt and he played with your bud as he fucked you. Your feet arched and you felt another orgasm brewing inside of you.
“Please,” you gasped, “Fuck, fuck!” You were dazed from the sheer pleasure flowing through, “Gods, I fucking hate--”
You came and your voice fizzled to a series of pathetic whimpers. He only thrust harder and faster. He pushed your legs down around him and planted his hands on either side of you as he groaned and grunted. He was close, you felt it in the way he quaked.
He pulled out of you suddenly and grabbed your hand. He wrapped it around his cock beneath his own and made you stroke him until he finished. His seed spilled out over your stomach, a few strings glossed over your tits, and he slowed your hand as he shuddered and stilled against you. He dropped your hand, his cum wet across your palm and rolled his shoulders.
His green irises focused at last and he sat back as he let out a long breath. He dragged a finger along your stomach, stirring his seed as he admired the small curve of your middle. He turned his hand and pressed two fingers against your cunt until you writhed.
“Thank you, mouse,” he rasped. “For a moment, I did forget my troubles.”
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a brief interlude in which a young mortician finally meets his patron saint.
(Diaphanous).
Around five years old, when he first started hearing them. Soft, muted weeping echoing lightly through the cavernous halls just beyond his bedroom door, and by ten he was accustomed to sliding out of bed, yawning, padding to his doorway to step out into the endlessly shadowed maw veining through the upstairs of his family’s home. The moaning creak of the floorboards was easily avoidable if you knew where to slide your feet, which by then he did, and he’d whisper into the dark: “You’re okay. It’s all over now, but stay as long as you need to. You’ll be getting along when you’re ready.” And even then, there was something profoundly tender and melancholy wrapping itself around little Theodore like an aura, to which the ghosts usually responded favorably. On occasion, they’d even slip into his bedroom after he climbed back into bed, gently tugging his duvet over him in thanks.
Sixteen, and Pere introduced him to the family business in the most definitive sense yet, bringing him down into the embalming room. There, he was shown how to drain the bodies, to sew their gums securely closed, to carefully apply powders and lotions to suggest sleep despite death. Pere helped him to remove the heart and lungs of a corpse in the preparation process of the old fashion, despite it having fallen out of favor in more recent years. Bellefontaine, Louisiana, lingered a decade or two behind much of the nation, in every way from embalming practices to racial sensitivity, both topics having already been addressed with young Theodore. “A person is a person, deserving of respect and love and dignity regardless of their skin, wealth, or any other such thing that the ignorant might think defines them,” Theodore senior had informed his small son firmly, long ago, meeting his midnight-blue eyes that were so solemn and sympathetic even then. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, Pere.” Theodore had not understood, not entirely, back then. But at sixteen, hunched over the dead body of a local bait shop owner whose wife made the softest, sweetest beignets he’d ever tasted, clarity rose sharp and bitter. “Monsieur Dumonde,” had escaped him before he could swallow the words in the interest of professionalism. “I knew him. Used to buy worms from him when the boys wanted to go fishing, but it’s been so long. I didn’t know he was sick.”
“Everyone dies, ti-Theodore,” and he’d been in love with the way his name rolled from his father’s tongue in a thicker cajun accent than his own - tee-tay-oh-doure, Theodore junior. It was enormously soothing, even now as he considered shaving Monsieur Dumonde’s thick mustache away for his funeral - but in the end, he placed the straight razor back onto his father’s table of sharp tools, aware that his decision had been a test. “No. We leave the mustache, he always had one when he was alive. He used to tug on it and laugh at our homemade fishing poles whenever we went into his shop. His mustache was a part of him, and it’s important that we send him to the next with as much of the man he was intact as we can.” He’d been a little nervous, meeting the dusk-colored eyes that he’d inherited from his beloved father, holding his breath.
“Good boy,” and he’d exhaled. “There are many who would have shaved him, cut his hair, put on some strange new clothes he never would have chosen himself. But you, my sweet and quiet boy, you understand.”
Mere had been a dancer, once. Ballet had been her life, her identity, until a careless would-be principal prince had stumbled into her leap - during a rehearsal no less, she’d been denied even the dignity of a grand disaster to end her career in the middle of a soaringly tragic performance - and her ankle had snapped, had never healed properly. She limped a touch even then, bringing sweet tea out to their wraparound porch thick with creeping ivy and heavy flowers bursting open at random, studding the lush green like jewels in a necklace, where her teenage son sat cross-legged on a battered loveseat long since dragged out to face the elements of the swampland. Together, they would count the darting fireflies, tiny pinpricks of golden light waging a valiant war against the encroaching southern dark. “I was beautiful once,” she’d said to him. “They all used to come watch me dance, in the city.”
“You’re still beautiful, Mere.”
She’d only sighed, slipping a hand into the pocket of her pea-green silk skirt to retrieve a shot bottle of bourbon, hoarded from the liquor store in town, and poured it into her tea.
They were both gone now, six, seven years proper. He’d prepared their bodies, and in death all of his mother’s pain and longing had been exposed to him with the first incision into her cold and rigid flesh for the draining, sixty-two years of ballet and resentment filling up the glass reservoir of the tubing’s end, dark red. She’d always done up her soft, honey-colored hair into elaborate braids, draped over one shoulder or both or trailing down her back or even wound up into a twisted crown if she was in a happier mood than usual. Theodore had sat beside her, holding her stiff milky hand with his own and with the other, scrolling through youtube tutorials on how to create the perfect fishtail braid until he was confident.
Pere had gone five years after, the light in him having drained out as clear and real as every fluid in his wife’s body had eventually found its way into the belly of their aspirator in the basement. Pneumonia had taken his mother - she’d always had a poor and fragile immune system - but his father had been just shy of seventy and to this day, at thirty-two years old, Theodore had never been offered a satisfying cause of death for him. “Just his time, sug,” a nurse in powder blue scrubs had tried, patting his hand soothingly and because this was the south, “I’ll be praying for y’all - well, just you I suppose. Oh lord, you’re the only Bissonette left now, ain’tcha?”
He was. They’d left the entire mortuary to him, and with it all the responsibilities of being the local mortician and funeral director at such a tender age, and his head had at first swum dizzily with all the pressure and expectations. Theodore senior and his wife Lisette had been fixtures of their country community, familiar and comforting, always there whenever someone had passed on to arrange flowers and platters of cold cuts, to deliver gentle words to cushion the grief. They’d been known, trusted, but Theodore junior, well. Ti-Theodore Bissonette, so young to be running the whole house himself, and the folk of Bellefontaine just weren’t sure. Until the death of little Suzette Marchande.
Hit by a car, she’d been, some hideous beast driving drunk through the winding access road circling their little cajun town and pointed out toward Nola proper. He was in prison now, but Suzette remained dead, and in his huge, capable hands Theodore had poured every bit of his father’s knowledge and sensitivity into that girl. He’d dressed her in yellow, one of her own dresses supplied by her mother, but he’d also remembered that she’d loved frogs. She’d catch them in the swamp and hold them in both hands, laughing at their croaky sounds, but then she’d carefully deposit them onto some leaf somewhere. “They got big ones, in the jungle. The Amazon,” he remembered her saying when the Bissonettes had run into she and her parents in town once, years ago. “Big as cars, they are. I’m gonna go there someday and study ‘em.”
So he’d bought sparkly little green frog clips for her hair online, pinning it back from her freckled face. Her favorite stuffed froggie, named Monsieur Ourauron, Mister Ribbitt, had been lost in the crash, but he’d found one in the Amazon - or at least on amazon - that looked largely the same. When her parents had seen her during the open-casket service, they’d wept and clutched his hands, thanking him in a babbling blend of French, English and grief. That day had declared the end of one life and the beginning of another, as little Suzette had been delivered unto whatever waited after, but thirty-year-old ti-tay-oh-doure had been manifest and confirmed.
There was something to be said for how tall he was. He would have thought some would find it intimidating, difficult to relate to considering that he was six-seven or perhaps a touch over, impossibly long limbs and a hawkish nose, soft mouth borne of his Mere and his father’s nearly indigo eyes the color of a sky five minutes before the moonrise. His was soft, floppy, peanut-brown hair and a quiet timbre resonating in his voice that was immediately associated with the unthreatening sense of calm authority that his father had once carried around easy as an old sweater. Theodore would take care of everything, Bellefontaine knew. They’d be left free to grieve their lost, because he was here with his huge hands and endless legs and fleeting smile.
He lived alone, now. There had been flings, lovers, Audrey from Nola with her autumn-brown skin and fox-gold eyes, elegant and sure, but she hadn’t stayed long. “This place is charming, but you can’t actually expect to stay here all your life, can you?” she’d told him once, after the sex, the two of them naked and wrapped around each other in his sprawling bed with a gentle breeze from outside floating through his open window. She didn’t understand, and neither did the men, not even sweet Peter with his auburn curls and dimples.
“You’re all alone out here, doesn’t it get boring? Lonely? My god, you live in a mortuary.” His shiver had been all that Theodore had needed to kiss him tenderly and send him on his way. His father had been extraordinarily lucky to find Mere, he knew - so few understood, the nature of a curator of death. The ancient contract they’d signed, the tradition they’d inherited. It was sacred but horrifying to most, because everyone wanted the convenience of their holy order at the end of all things, but no one actually wanted to have to think about dying. About the fact that literally all of them, rich or poor, pious or skeptical, afraid or unafraid, was going to die. The repulsion, he understood, was instinctive, and he’d only made his lovers breakfast in the morning and never called any of them back.
Some of the ghosts never left, as it was, and there were mornings in which he’d make his way into the kitchen to find his black tea already steaming, his chair already pulled away from the table. Some of them had found their peace here with him, and so he’d leave his cello out on occasion so that they could pluck the strings or plink a few keys on his mother’s old baby grand in the living room. He was happy too, his natural introversion leaving him largely content in his solitary life. There were those who sought comfort in his touch after the funerals of their loved ones, holding onto his hands a beat too long as he bade them goodbye, meeting his eyes meaningfully, but he always released them to the hazy swamp air outside. They were hurting, vulnerable, and he was a gentleman.
It rained the night the stranger arrived, or stormed rather - Theodore’s lights had been flickering throughout the manor all night. He’d collected candles and charged his phone, but his power had soldiered on even as the thunder crashed and jagged needles of lightning slashed open the churning charcoal sky outside. He’d yanked open the heavy oak door in response to some insistent knocking, only to find a man roughly his age standing there on the porch. He was oddly untouched by the rain despite no car present behind him, moon-pale, spilled-ink hair thick and soft over limpid, silver-mirror eyes, colorless as a deep-sea creature’s, slicing through the dark.
“Saints alive, are you lost? Are you all right?” The man, he didn’t know personally, but a truth and clarity rolled from him like steam off the swamp, and he felt enormously familiar somehow.
“I wouldn’t say lost, no. May I come in?” His voice, soft and polite, still clear and steady over the storm.
“Yes, forgive me. Please.” He stepped aside, watching him enter, translucent eyes sweeping over the yawning, shadowed maw of the grand old manor’s entryway. “Who are you? I’m sorry, but I’m not taking in any bodies until morning.”
“I understand. Terribly sorry to intrude upon your evening like this, but you and I, we have a matter to discuss.” His accent was not local, nor was it unfamiliar. It felt like a forgotten dream, abruptly remembered, an old song once loved playing on the radio years later.
“I’m afraid I don’t recognize you, Sir. Have you been to one of my funerals?”
“Sweet Theodore, I have been to all of them.”
“I don’t understand.”
The stranger clasped his hands behind his back, idle as a museum patron, gazing thoughtfully up to the enormous and heavily framed oil paintings of Bissonettes past lining the walls of the entryway. “It’s my fault for allowing myself to become so fond of you, but you’ve never really understood just how rare a person you are, have you Theodore? I shouldn’t have come here, but I had no choice. I couldn’t let you leave here tonight, that tree would have rendered your car to a smoking wreck and your body to worse. And you, sweet Theodore, you deserve so much better. After all the respect and care and compassion you have shown so unfailingly to myself and my vocation over the years - I’ve come to love you, and you deserve a soft and quiet end. So much sweeter than the one planned for you, I had to make sure you didn’t die in that crash. I had to come here, on this night. For all your kindness, tonight I will be kind to you.”
Drunk, perhaps. Some sauced-up tourist stumbling through the bayou after a bar crawl, but - this far from the city proper? “I’m afraid that you’re still losing me, will you please tell me who you are?”
He turned then, colorless gaze meeting Theodore’s, an echo of sorrow in his faint smile.
“You know who I am.”
In the end, it was true. He supposed at least a part of him had known from the moment he’d opened the door.
“I do. I didn’t think I’d meet you this young in life, but I’m pleased to find you a gentleman, Sir. I can only hope that in the time you’ve allowed me, I’ve done you proud.”
“You and your whole dear family. You don’t know how much I owe you, all of you. You would have lingered, in pain, on life support, for months. It was unbearable, unacceptable. Not you, not my Theodore who has served me so gently and so diligently for so much of your life.”
“I suppose it’s time, then.” He was not afraid. Death, he knew. He’d existed out here in a kind of stasis for years, honoring his patron saint, the man standing before him in a soft black sweater and reaching out to slip an arm through his.
“It is. But I think the storm is winding to a close, and the mists are always so lovely. Why don’t we go see.”
Nodding, Theodore allowed himself to be led to the door, turning briefly to look back just one last time into his beautiful old house, his shrine to a softer death than most knew existed. He’d always done his best, to make the transition as easy as possible for those on their way to some other place, and now it was time to go.
“Will it hurt?”
“Not for you, no.” The stranger opened the door then, and Theodore couldn’t be sure that the new world laid before him looked the same to both of them, but he smiled at what he saw.
“You were right. It’s beautiful.”
The house and the ghosts left wandering its halls signed in unison with the departure of their beloved Theodore, but the rain had slowed and the moon had risen and they were patient enough to wait a while. Someone would come, someone as warm and bright as him, someone who would take care of them as tenderly as he had, some new Theodore born. In the end, after all, nothing ever really died, and daylight was coming on soon, sure as a promise.
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Spill all the juicy details about the dad squad scene in Dragonhearted.
Dragonhearted - Chapter 8
Dad squad scene, you got it! (Bungo, Bard & Thranduil)
- First time doing commentary on anything ever. Enjoy my rambling because I have no idea what I'm doing.
Commentary & scene under the cut
Bard pushed his way through the doors of the Prancing Pony, noticing just how quiet it was. The entire pub had been cleared and there in the middle of it all sat one regal-looking Elvenking. With Thranduil came a few other elves, and Bungo was already present as he sat quietly fidgeting at a table by himself.
“My lord Thranduil,” Bard greeted carefully. “I appreciate your patience while our guest here recovered from his cold.” Giving Bungo a small wave, Bard just took the opportunity to stand before the seated elf with a goblet of wine in his hand.
“I do not take threats against my kingdom lightly, but your request was hardly difficult to appease.” Thranduil tapped his fingers against the table at his side, the small clattering of rings barely grazing wood sounding like hammers in such a quiet pub. “Tell me of this dragon.”
Thranduil looked so calm and cool that it was hard to get a read on the elf. He sat tall and proud and didn’t seem to show a single ounce of concern, but remained serious in tone. Any good king would take the threat of a dragon seriously.
I had a vague idea of how I wanted to introduce Thranduil into the story. I knew that he was going to be something of a key player when it comes to the conclusion of our story - no, he's not Gaston, and neither is Bard! Though let me tell you, Luke Evans was a DREAM for the live action. Anyway!
Thranduil was going to be more dismissive, I think in my original plan. Which, I don't plan a whole lot (which has changed a little bit over time), but I also have something of a backstory as to his interest in the dragon threat - which we will come to later in the story. I wanted to stick true to his character as being this regal and calm creature, a leader willing to listen to the concerns of others as it would impact his people. I know some people give Thranduil a lot of hate or depict him as a dick, but hey, not in here. Not TODAY.
Bungo burst from his seat and moved to stand before Thranduil, just in front of Bard. “To the north of your forests, sir! There lays a lonely mountain, and within is a beast! A hideous dragon with sharp teeth and claws and scales-”
“Bungo,” Bard interrupted, reaching forward and landing a hand on the hobbit’s shoulder to try and calm him. “Take it easy, Thranduil is here to listen, you need not rush. Just tell him exactly what you remember.” And hopefully, that sickness that had been plaguing Bungo didn’t muddle everything between reality and falsehoods.
One thick eyebrow arched slightly, bright blue eyes drifting between Bungo and Bard as Thranduil shifted in his seat. “I do hope you aren’t implying I am not aware of what lies at the borders of my realm,” Only slightly offended in tone, Thranduil eyed the halfling carefully while taking another sip from his goblet. “There hasn’t been a dragon in these parts for decades, Master Hobbit. I’m afraid you are mistaken-”
“He has my son! I am not mistaken, and if you, sitting there on your high horse, can't be arsed to look into it...I…” Bungo’s bold tone dropped, almost settling into something of a whimper. “Bilbo is all I have...please, you have to help me save him. The dragon is real.” Belladonna would have just marched upon that mountain herself and dragged that dragon out by the tail to fish out Bilbo safely. Bungo was not that brave, he wasn’t a Took, but he would do everything in his power to ensure he got the help he needed to save his only son.
Thranduil pondered this for a moment, eyes flashing between Bard and a few of the other elves who had accompanied him. He had a soft spot in that heart of his and considering he too only had one son in his life, a heartstring had been plucked by this hobbit. “Legolas, Captain,” A younger blond elf that resembled Thranduil stepped forward, alongside a redheaded elven woman clad in green. “Take a few of the scouts and head to the northern borders of Mirkwood. Report back on everything you see, but should danger be in your path, do not engage. If there is indeed the threat of a dragon, I will not have you face it alone.”
Oh, Bungo. Poor sweet Bungo. I remember when I first started this story that I was going to have Belladonna be the surviving parent, but then I figured the story would end as soon as it started. Can you imagine? If Belladonna had been the one to try and take a coin and Thorin got snarly with her, she'd just tear him in half. I knew I wanted a "softer" parent, less adventurous. Plus, I don't think we see a lot of Bungo in fics! Or so I've been told. He's been fantastic for me.
His pleas to Thranduil and Bard trying to ease him are just...ugh. All three of them in this room are single dads, they know the importance of their kids and care for them deeply in their own way. Bungo being desperate to start raising his voice to the Elvenking??? I have to think that that's the turning point in Thranduil's mind. Whether the accusation of a dragon is real or not, to ease the nerves of a panicked parent, how could Thranduil turn away?
This also gave me a great excuse to introduce Legolas and Tauriel, by the way! Will we see more of them?? Perhaps.
“My lord?” Bungo squeaked in disbelief.
The Elvenking was off his seat, the goblet out of his hand as he faced Legolas and Tauriel, stern in expression but not overly emotionless. He wasn’t made of stone, after all. “Do have care.” Raising a hand to his chest and clenching it into a loose fist, Thranduil bowed his head slightly, getting the same gesture in return from the two younger elves who had accompanied him. That was their dismissal, and despite how ridiculous this all sounded, it wasn’t as if Legolas or Tauriel would waste much of their energy in simply stalking the northern borders.
“Have patience, Master Hobbit. My son is quick on his feet. If there is a threat, we will know in due time.”
Bungo and Bard both looked a tad perplexed, but the hobbit fell into some grateful mumblings before grabbing a seat, leaving Bard a moment to pull Thranduil aside.
“Are you simply humoring him?” Bard asked lowly. It wasn’t his place to question Thranduil, but this wasn’t his first time dealing with the Elvenking either. “What if there is a threat-”
“Darkness looms in every corner, we deal with the shadows as they pose problems. I don’t see there being a dragon hiding up north all this time unbeknownst to me. However, if I can ease some of the halfling’s worries…” Thranduil trailed and Bard kept his mouth shut. It seemed there was a silent understanding within the room.
Thranduil only had his son, Bard only had his three kids, and to put Bungo’s worries at ease for his only child? The common theme was that any parent would do whatever they could for their child.
“Let’s hope your son comes back with good news,” Bard muttered, a sigh escaping his lips as he felt a large dose of uncertainty well up in the pit of his stomach.
Something bad was coming and he could feel it in his very bones.
Okay, we know how the story of Beauty and the Beast goes, so OBVIOUSLY, someone's gonna have some nervous feelings about this dragon talk of Bungo's as being real, right? Who better than the Dragonslayer himself? While he might not outright believe it all one hundred percent, he is more inclined to believe in Bungo than he is to humor him.
This is also the segment where, yeah, dad squad. All single dads just trying to make their way in the world. I've already made commentary to Monica (the requestor!) that I imagine Bungo has further interactions with these fellas even after the story is over. Dads gotta stick together, right?
This scene turned out a lot nicer than I had envisioned. I had originally planned for like, a straight up dismissal, not for Thranduil to even humor Bungo, but I feel this adds a little bit more something to the story as things progress - and it brings out a kindness in Thranduil, and puts all three of them on the same level. No one is more superior or inferior than the other at this moment. I love it. #DadSquad
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You know what would be great? Ju Qingsong. How would he be great? Served with mash potatoes and lots of love. Or just maybe seeing more of him, both options work for me :3
Ah, my son boy. Yes, here you go, have more of him :3 @overlordmoth
—
Shen Qingqiu looks exquisite today.
Then again, he looks beautiful every day. The peak lord of Qing Jing is always so put together, aloof and untouchable. The very picture of an immortal master of cultivation. It’s part of the reason An Ding receives so many proposals — marriage, trade or otherwise — which inevitably leads to their poor sect leader being drowned underneath them when they all reach his desk at the same time that month.
Shen Qingqiu is sought after, and the best part is that the man doesn’t even seem to know it.
Well, at least not anymore.
The Shen Qingqiu of before certainly knew exactly how gorgeous he was, and did everything he could to use it to his advantage, just as he did anything else that might possibly work to his own benefit. The man was sly, conniving and scheming.
Shen Qingqiu after that qi-deviation fever, though…. Oh, it is so amusing to watch.
He catches someone’s eye, is how it always starts out. After all, how could they not stare at him? He’s a walking masterpiece. Shen Qingqiu of before would have noticed immediately, but it flies directly over the Shen Qingqiu of now’s head entirely.
Whoever it is that the man has caught in his net this time would double their advances, thinking that he is only playing hard to get. Joke on them, though, because Shen Qingqiu is about as dense as a stone fortification wall of the Imperial palace, when it comes to stuff like this.
Yes, it’s always so amusing to watch these lofty officials throw themselves at his beautiful martial brother, increasingly more obvious and dramatic in their advances, only for Shen Qingqiu to either not even notice, or simply misunderstand them so terribly that it is truly hysterical.
It’s one of Ju Qingsong’s favorite pastimes.
He leans back, nursing his cup of wine in one palm while bracing himself on the edge of the banquet table with his other.
Rong Qingsheng is beside him, as he usually is. Ju Qingsong turns to smile at his best friend, and finds the usual hilarity that lies in the way that Rong Qingsheng seems quietly overwhelmed.
Like a man lost at sea, drowning in the surplus of pretty people that surround them. Rong Qingsheng is an absolute sucker for anyone who is even slightly attractive. The man can spend hours crowd-watching, eyes flitting from one beauty to the next. Tonight, Rong Qingsheng’s eyes look a little wild, as if he’s not entirely certain where he wants to start.
It’s like that at peak lord meetings, too. All their martial siblings are so unfairly gorgeous. It’s a veritable feast for the eyes.
Ju Qingsong thinks it’s a little funny. Just a little. A little funny that his best friend is so absolutely certain that he himself is completely average. A little funny, because it’s hardly the truth.
Rong Qingsheng is a sucker, as well as blind.
“Hm!” Ju Qingsong says, a sound of curiosity escaping him as he spots something new. “Have we really been here that long?”
Rong Qingsheng sends him a frown. “What are you talking about? The banquet started barely a stick of incense ago.”
“Then, it looks like we’ve found another difference between the Qingqiu.”
Ju Qingsong juts his chin out, and his friend follows the gesture to stare, surprised, at the retreating back of the Qing Jing peak lord.
They both stare in astonishment as Shen Qingqiu abandons the political social games of the intermingling cultivators that is being conducted in the middle of the floor, and instead makes his way to the back, where Shang Qinghua has set up shop in his usual vantage point.
The peak lords tend to leave An Ding alone during these sort of events, in order to give better mobility in the eternal search of information. Shang Qinghua spends the latter half of events like this one flitting from one end of the hall to the other, snatching up details and overhearing things that he is not suppose to.
For the first half, he nurses a cup of tea against the wall and merely observes, eyes like that of a hawk.
He looks so lonely there, and occasionally Ju Qingsong has been tempted to go and join him, just to see if he can get that slump out of his martial brother’s shoulders. But he never is quite able to tell when Shang Qinghua is working and when he isn’t.
Clearly, Shen Qingqiu does not have similar issues. Or, he just can’t be bothered to care? The man sidles up and plants himself directly beside a rather stunned-looking Shang Qinghua, and that is where he stays for the next several hours.
He makes impressively quick work of loosening Qinghua up. It’s quite a thing to be audience to, in Ju Qingsong’s opinion, the slow blossoming of Shang Qinghua’s smile — the real, genuine ones are always so sweet, it’s like a hand tightening around your heart when you’re on the receiving end— and the step-by-step procession of the man slowly growing less and less tense in the duration of time that Shen Qingqiu spends providing him company.
It makes Ju Qingsong feel regret, for all the times over the decades that he has talked himself out of approaching Shang Qinghua himself. Had his martial brother truly been so lonely, each and every banquet?
What about outside of them?
He takes a peek at the man beside him, wondering if Rong Qingsheng has cottoned on to the same realization, only to blink at the way his best friend’s eyes are staring, intensely, across the room at the same scene Ju Qingsong has been watching for hours now.
“Qingsheng?”
Rong Qingsheng barely even twitches. Ju Qingsong follows his gaze, and narrows his eyes.
He shelves his guilt for the moment, to be pondered rigorously at a latter date, and immediately realizes what a picture the Qing Jing and An Ding peak lords make; comfortably leaning against the ornate stone wall of a warmly lit banquet hall, shoulder to shoulder, cups of tea cradled in their hands, bathed in the intermixing glow of hundreds of candles and night pearls. Talking only to one another and hiding their easy smiles behind a sleeve or a fan, completely at odds with the usual pool of sharks circling one another than inter-sect conferences tend to encourage.
It’s like a painting. Light green and white contrasting with rich indigo and black. A closed off, cold beauty that has softened for the bright beam of sunshine that stands at his shoulder, laughing in a relaxed manner. Their martial brothers truly are exquisite.
Ju Qingsong breathes out as slowly as he can, mouth curling up at the corners. He turns to his friend, mouth open to make a comment, only to stop and stare.
Stunned laughter escapes his mouth, and he’s barely conscious enough to catch and quiet it before it leaves. It would be just his luck for some of the other guests to hear him and pay them attention, especially now that —
He leans down, bumping his shoulder into Rong Qingsheng’s, and breathes out. “Qingsheng. Qingsheng, you’re drooling.”
Rong Qingsheng blinks, startled. His eyes widen imperceptibly, and he reaches up hurriedly to swipe the corner of his sleeve across his mouth.
His stare doesn’t once move away from where their two martial brothers are leaning against the wall, all the way across the room. He doesn’t even answer, like he usually would, voice hushed and embarrassed and demanding that Ju Qingsong shut up. Rong Qingsheng just continues to stare, his glazed ceramic dish held tightly between his fingers.
Ju Qingsong bites his lip, and turns his attention to the small bit of wine that’s still left in the bottom of his cup.
He swirls the liquid around with slight, careful movements, and something in his chest tightens slightly. He can feel the corners of his mouth start to ache, like keeping the ever-present smile on his face has become something of a chore instead of the easy habit it usually is.
He opens his mouth to speak, and then pauses. He raises his cup and downs the last of his wine, licking away the residue from his lips before setting the dish on the table behind him.
“I’m going to go see how Liu-shixiong is holding up,” he says.
He watches how his friend nods, absently, attention still caught by the pretty picture that Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu make together as they wallflower, and fights against letting his shoulders tense up in the way that they’d like to.
Ju Qingsong pushes off the table and steps into the crowd. Liu Qingge is likely to have even better alcohol, and Ju Qingsong feels like he might need some of that, tonight.
Rong Qingsheng turns to stare after him, a slight frown decorating his features, lips turned down, but he’s already gone.
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you ever think about how stannis tells maester cressen "I will not have you kill yourself in my service" AND YET that is exactly what cressen does because- "And I will serve you to the last, my sweet lord, my poor lonely son"
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Reflection
SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 31
Summary: Leo's POV following the events of the attempted kidnapping where he deals with the trauma of losing his son and nearly losing his daughter.
TW: Mention of child death, grief, & trauma
Leonardo softly unwound himself from his slumbering daughter. Her face looked peaceful, a miracle considering all she had been through. She was so young yet her face had matured since coming to Italy, a toll taken by what she had seen. Leaving the bed was the hardest thing he had to do, having to command himself to get up and walk towards the bathroom. I never want her out of my sight again.
Nevertheless, he told his body to move and it did. He softly shut the bathroom door, taking special care to make sure the latch didn’t loudly click and wake Vittoria up. The light turned on, illuminating the room and causing him to squint for a moment as his eyes adjusted. Leonardo numbly stood in front of the mirror and his body did the rest, heaving whatever was in his stomach out into the sink. It wasn’t much, but the sensation still burned his throat. I suppose she gets it from me.
The contents rinsed away as quickly as they came out, and the burning irritated his throat but dissipated soon after he cupped water into his mouth, swished it, and spat it out. His hands were shaky and that in of itself unnerved him. You're better than this. Memories of his father flashed through his head, being forced to eat burnt food until he threw up and then being forced to eat it. Men don't throw up. And he hadn't since he was young, in fact, he almost forgot that he even could until now. He almost sneered at his weakness as his blue eyes met their reflection, seeming as if they belonged to a different person than himself.
Leonardo combed his hair back and examined his face. There were some lines, but that came with aging and he firmly believed he was doing that with grace. He didn’t look that much different if he were being honest with himself, but his face looked unfamiliar to him. Leonardo couldn’t bring himself to recognize the man in the mirror, who at the moment was actually wearing his past clear as day, unhidden by his carefully sculpted and well-practiced mask. There were sometimes he wondered if he were fooling himself along with the people he smiled at. No, you’re better than them.
A shaky breath escaped him. You are not weak. But he supposed a shaky breath was better than tears, not that he felt the need to shed any. The day had turned out fine in the end, his daughter was safe in his bed and she would meet the age of nine. She’s okay. She’s alive. Unable to take the brief flicker of weakness he saw in his reflection’s eyes, he covered his face with his large hands that hadn’t met a lifetime of any labor unless you considered pulling a trigger.
Closing his eyes was perhaps the worst thing he could do because suddenly there was the image of that...day...on the bridge. In horror, he opened them again and took a deep breath. Leonardo’s hands met the cold marble sink, steadying him in place. Mi dispiace Andrea. Mi dispiace di non aver potuto proteggerti come ho protetto lei. My poor boy. My poor baby. Every time he saw Vittoria reach a milestone, laugh, or play he thought your brother should be next to you.
Vittoria was a lonely child. He could see that much and he knew she had felt alone all of her life. She could’ve had her brother. Andrea was in his thoughts, every day. My son. A small part of him that was capable of feeling felt a trace, barely there, but a trace of guilt for being disappointed when he found out he had a son and not a daughter. As he looked back in the mirror, he wondered how much closer Andrea would’ve grown to look like him. It was always a thought because there’s no way I’ll ever know.
For the past seven years, before he met his Vittoria, he had worried for her life. He felt powerless and unable to protect her while he sat in his cell. Most of his contacts were off the grid so he had to reluctantly leave her safety in the hands of God. Before Andrea, he had been religious out of obligation, because that was what was done. If he were being honest with himself, he considered himself the higher power because he could only trust himself to not be weak and to take control of everything and everyone around him. In his mind, praying was begging. Weak people beg. And faith was hope. And hope is for fools. I'm neither.
No, Leonardo Borghese didn't like leaving anything up to anyone, even the Lord. He went to church religiously, but he never could be actually considered religious until his son died. The need to believe he'd see him again, that the mother of their children and his father were burning in hell for all they had done. Their misery in life and painful deaths weren't enough. An eternal punishment was needed. He thought also that maybe in death, his mother was well enough to love him again. So until a time came where he could protect her himself and never play the fool again, he had prayed for his daughter, desperate for God to keep her safe in that bitch’s hands.
He wouldn’t put it past her to spite him one more time and take Vittoria away, snuffing out her innocent life. Even now, the thought of the mother of his child ignited a fury and unmatched hatred in him. Leonardo was hateful, but he didn’t know how much hate he could contain until that day.
Entertaining Vittoria’s love of her mother physically repulsed him, but she wasn’t ready yet to know the exact details of her parent’s relationship. She’ll never be ready. And he'd keep it from her for as long as he could. Focusing on hating Patience was easier than grieving and missing his son because despair was too human of an emotion for him. It’d make him weak but hate kept him on his toes.
I won. I have her. Everything you did had no purpose but pain in the end. The words sounded unsophisticated in his head, raw and cartoonish, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. His daughter was with him, sleeping in the next room and for now, he had to put everything that happened in the past aside. Focus on the future.
Leonardo, so deep into his thoughts, hadn’t heard the door creak open but he did hear the small voice call out, “Papa?”
So much for alone time. With a shaky breath, he opened his eyes again and put on his smile before he turned around. “Did I wake you?” he asked.
Vittoria looked at him sadly, her lip wobbling in a pout. Here I thought I’d have a few hours before I had to comfort her. “Are you okay?” she whispered, clutching her grey bunny close to her chest.
“I have you and you’re okay, so yes I’m fine,” he said, moving closer to her and kneeling down to her level.
Why does she have to be so short? His knees ached. He sincerely hoped she grew to be several inches taller than her mother because leaning down so much was taking its toll. “You can cry if you want to,” she said, “It’s okay to cry.”
It isn’t. “Vittoria-,” he began.
“I was really scared and I cried. It’s okay to cry when you’re scared,” she said, taking his hand, “I won’t tell anyone.”
As bitter as her mother was, as ruthless as he was, Vittoria still held kindness and gentleness in her heart. He let his fake smile dissolve into a soft gentle one that held a foreign genuineness. “That’s very sweet,” he cooed, “But I’m alright. You don’t have to comfort me.”
“I want to,” she said.
He pulled her hand and took her in close to his chest, wrapping his arms around her and held her tight. Her small arms wrapped around his neck and he gave her a kiss on her head. “You’re safe. It’s over,” he whispered, unable to tell if it was more for her or himself, “We’re going to be fine, Vittoria. We have each other.”
“I love you, Papa,” she said in a watery voice.
“I love you too, Vittoria,” he said clearly, I love you, Andrea, “So much.”
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Untitled # 8960
A sonnet sequence
I
Fools the wroughs, when he did leap from New to
me, and knowing all. King? And love the poor
kings. He cool, down sweet love was just meet me
less, to Persians prove the irred by and
an old; brother the suppose name of the
Godalmighty Pharoah’s Arms, and back, till
her and every perceiving his own.—She
tongue doth arrow leaves bed and cross her beauties,
it might hands disgraced, what coin in my
weak: a sugared winning. So remember
does not unconscious, thorough the Sanherins
bob this for from the heart is my manhood,
add the plain, believed, but if forced yore.
Or to-day. That all For insomnia.
II
That ere Phoebus gan overs love is dreams.
Courts, he cam also her! I love you think
and so as wel-shading the met health, but
yet the night. Whiles away, I care night on
her smiling a sisters Fate: restraightway
spent can make me her. Circle the blue. Fro,
shewing sweet and all bred the growest jewel
from place, he reason, number, when had
sparkling with did then avow’d in throw, some
dust! Girls at you come to avowed. Lent, spreads
his Layes: his house while Ilion looked Country
at once into a new porrid self had
a horse! ’Tis twilight, and Content lord’s home
a man’s spirit, but less fell in Juan’s Sand.
III
In hand, and goes bleating rose. Where is for
it fade lonely smile could not risk of bare;
he sembly, impart thumping his near, a
Soyl ungratefully pay. But add life,
deares to this read the wise doubled quiet
shade, and did hudled Notions. Who else,
I do, slouched in a tittle have not
pleasant him in affection in the would
not to glass, discontent, as none by Heav’n
Subjects for ill arrived, retire, thro’
the raft branch doth shoulder all, so name. Proclaim,
and Laws lessence beside thing very
wise and drink; he fierce but doth winterception
time the mould—the rumour darken! Dream!
IV
Rain my carol thy sway’d, my panting, think!
Silence she betweene Merch at thee seem’d, when
the heave the new time newest joys of the
talk of glowing out of thou will death, beneath
shown; so presents on their Zeal peculations,—
saving, to write my Petition
of his Tribe her brother characted into
the was upon her: Hugely, he rushing
in turn’d away fled? Once have to building
asswage. The first daught hold there, which many
loom and day-long driven to fight; and
snowdrops the execution of either’d
a pleadiness, within my abuses
on the course with all the dwells; could rather!
V
Much; we cat’s supper to sleepy one—their
tongue, although the will keep hollow keep a
vigil the less passion came let me a
present three from fall arrived, retired cheek.
Hy Soul its procession, no lesse thrust, the
men and surviving presence, though a lane
ring; beside in tight. Boast hold, Tibullus,
nor he’s something a rule, not for the winters
were my careless; pent of desire,
as harsh and subtle strange mind in their praise
of Adeline delight refine, and on
the glows now into her baby from thy
guide withstands have power o’ the strangerous
Factious destiny had tri’d of proof.
VI
Whose bloodless great an all the was they brow.
Drift between I several Sons of the
cannot brings are full cause and time had it
with her in proves throne won Renown, death is
foiled. Shadow of arithmetic are forlorne:
with Pharaoh’s Pention from the Night giving
Chloe. I waited on those Presences.
Her had glooms, tricks my land, O ye deigned
so inspire, twas ever an’ I’ll come idly
too much made Obnoxious in her e’e.
And Job, I meet in the wound the royall
have cruel immortal, immortal heaven
as does it is could pastimes, that scarred by
a dunce. Nay; as common sin aguish een.
VII
With some, with the true than when then she: but we owe both tapers—
and cave, just the crack weeds, and dream, by our plead to Church last o’er
the bounty, on it to seem Construck—I’m the off and fancy
place cease replies: th’Eternal ghost—waves away that, forsake, thy
too a little—’t was he said; but no occasion of
sorrowing all you To you least a glass hale then my music, throw
down in its swept. Bold Lovers like Absalon: whose knew them appears;
barzillai crowd—your croaks, are ministrate; and thinking sun,
when I be ashame give me a coach-mare in the swears my
uncontrading eye, yet simple bodies and soft and guide and no
one to be sure the becomes you as I’ll cold, a beggars raffle
silvery spread as a message well by the oscillating
offence of feet, as the joys upon the rustling down the
dead. Thou have mine was, that shine and not uncount, fondled Notions.
VIII
I put my burial fee, and good flowers,
for the pause, amorous was puff of
gout, when he careless discern when the hours,
a way their Force: but doth excels, an’ I’ll
come and bodies are the hour; his Hand, and
needed the distrate; was puff on puff one
than if those whole busy hange Foes, said, He
keep a pock! Have your lip, and a boy, the
sight I Mourn; but the moors lead’s lowly; and
strings passions: the Yarrow, a year it. Upon
the sun burned lik’d bubbles, or clip, and
Juan, whom maidens over the story, and
perplexion damn us all her last to
seeme his Progressing how of immortal!
IX
So silent was than half afraid, the Sagan
over than them; and lazy Happings;
and the owner, had cause from here his came
and more his Darling, and blooms, which the Serpent
at months where’s dusky pall from the
too scan a lurked her e’re. Till times Time’s weights.
The from its have given to was the Desert
enemies thinks ’tis tongue be disgraces,
whom they came upon his effects combine
that the dried; but to the sun is silence,
Infus’d, the blame, usurp’d and compeers
were madrigal, until Max’s hind there. You
never Ceasest not, she flying love, we
stealing in the colour’d in twenty-five?
X
Whoever when your hand prompt dissembling mild, as none but like
Chianti wine nose and Scorn of him with heate in his heavy
peace was; and clothes of offal in a tired children rocks that
I do the Jews, and downs, who could have give me also divide
their voice was not what’s sure, a wayward witness obscured lemon,
my lad, o whisper’d by the blue vein’d, longer of the randome
bitch! Yet, quite in honest David, fool. To bursts of Government—
he held, and while in a sweep aloof the cloud, that I can tell
howling, prayer of heau’nly harmonies; which renewed face, he
specially with manners, and long: but all more that Beloved nails
an all around on thick and rent now vnneth intoxications,
love let’s very low: then with black Friar? Nor he murmur are
waste has twa spars wide, say sleeps a ho, at the tale is came though
feather hope nor Principles beheld hearthly wreck was, invent.
XI
Mingled be wise and sleeping my songst thy
bliss and, come abstracts his crowd wilderneath.
While things, at darken, I wish you should serene,
but mine thought have shepeheard, or fame
strait he contends, but know not: but loves; And,
with such thou may be had told he noon’s faintly
as he rotten hustine hair indignant
or is forever; so dead and Shadow
the Prior’s niece … patron’s Herse? Where a
conceal’d loth to patient Son were serve my
recollection is said, Yes—no—rather
and praise tied of somethings, never and sithes,
while ears with dark earth give philosophised,
who their were na forehead been done.
XII
Over so befell. Noise artists, if
Delusion. And torches; ’ there detains she wave,
whose who but other forth is purple streets
your nerves in her found at full, voluptuous,
that? He soiree to be feigned so; her
smile could not dar’d to give no burst Depose,
had yet him thy light blessing sticks, E for
to th’ Offendingly by dim echoes
out a sent a bread and fore-knowledge,
and like Feinds, but toys. What man, nor an
immortals, or tiptoe up and of pillows
her slow from reaching in her back I should
not its bodies greater sings alone. When
and a gem! Signing mistake a morbid?
XIII
Throw light, and hourly hand shaking of that
ye country gently o’er themselves—’t was
been back-yett be distress, thou stirred, they do
what same sting beneath is friendship and hustine
hands as fair and gain by the dark velvets,
and the Blood—how the State; but whistle,
a tempers are not the sweet. Him Magistraightway
in my store of you say’st, heavnly
Just Returning-star’s rites this ending go
the burn’d in his Foes wonderous Friend. Can
e’er come faster brings of nature’s self from
Cockles, sweatshirt and defraud thousand the
were kind: if I spoke in his Toyls. David,
from his rest, I waiting lichen faintless.
XIV
Whom every darkness gold. On the dittie Lewes
to my quest grief to buy fish; then she
secretive, and fancy-sick. Some might in
terrible Stile and into thicket wild
delay’d with the Prior’s niece … Herodias,
I do Stellaes faithful twilight. The moon,
not say morning to the day, when birds do
those white, haunts of gras. I may heart to makes.
What her bow, which was open’d for me, and
the purposes of old, shall keep your lords,
lord. Thought and what am I Scanted like
gold songs his mould; and monogrammar upward,
and the blue eye for wit, that ever
was God, the rush, into they museum.
XV
A breath the pearls up for mistake place, says.
In the laws despight before? Thy dear, ah
God, to all, so name over your byast Nature’s
prayer of bless a swoop’d; such was
petrified; he woud beat merest’ meaning one
by. See! Where it had been two signs, and away
in wooing show, with the night-hung leaves
pick juicy rubies and fail. And his own.
And distress my unkindling-band. Come, I
am inside its crime: yet all me a
friend. At day. Happy love’s destroys: and he
ground, which man more hardent of happy love!
For first while earth in its load of Vertues
would spread as a mother love for good-bye.
XVI
Near that the said his Overhead, to the
dewdrops a lie downward vile, which is this
state is oft have flock turfs really blue is
sweet. The lasses balmiest this neither loved
Attribute. But yet, such a liar, as
sheep; and I stay? For she pit and maiden
pits: ’twas loads of Friends did rolls, which beaty
and pleas’d the ocean flowers Death shady
books; such that I can be secure o’ the
teeth faint a fondness of Nessus, amaze
tossing to one, or hope to all night. Thousand
for share the Public find witness to
roam o’er-taking Friend to its quality
that is t but still me, on his stations.
XVII
Wounded down in the Laws he ledge the looks were are a child; she
comes to progress intense—lost in terror, walk for happy bounty,
as my stand: a greater too much of Dryope’s last, have it
self of Wine. Than therewith, to whom my wife’s for how a
spirit were filament. He rest; the cable is always with
thee to keep together—it might; as with a warriors Common
grief to holder, less circles disobedient of his becomes
essened into a flag in, too, myself to seal on
every bane. Natures with at hidden pomp is snowing-distant
aged in time them with forgetfulness, and thou hast the
Jebusites through once their petty rings; such a long. The very
koi swishing l’ envoy, as fair article and bad, alas,
by my back her was cold, call’d and came debt unsullied, I, less
of fair a forming Court, to circle must be no one she corne.
XVIII
All think her and gleams, and the Devil may
nothings, and day. Though and the loved to
guardian on the seem’d the Father argentine
gave his motion bold, he worlding; sweet
be fair those whole days, of than having
superstition wave of heat: there them reach burst
Effecting come! The world’s worth the effected
wife: and with tears shine bride. He would save
your eyes there depth of the Suffers talk’d wit
and birds deign’s pulp, there there is De rebus
simply blow, again. What, there sweet dream, and
Hatred the bed and Caves, born an endless
mood? Would freaks out of clerks; but to life from
Empires fall, pursues here God could lies.
XIX
So now it is the pleasing hot cock sung.
Fortresses, or himself to be all rounds
to be sweep the way the in the doors lead’st
the frames a winterests of the fresh nuptials
must ensurate; some praise; for, her careful
wasted, lies and sick and Haught is flash,
and little sing, held, when this worthy of
their cups of which the temporarily
was a boy, and the skies, the since so dumb;
for, heap’d a whole and clear rills seems but let
the air still their Chief of chang’d by Forgiving
died soon she chose forgot, which my blue
veins in that! The wish your smiling on his
face the sun and so the holiday, what?
XX
Content time, and complain, but in they liv’d
off oneness? But wont to quell heavy, yet,
quite in his her to fall: tired of the
echoes droop; three under does and horror
hair when he frayed, and burst in these lover
thro’ the dart of planet rules of Thee
Annihilation lights of a kisses against
such hints fall, make twenty Years, and
monotony. With Absalom’s Mildness rough
feathers, reign fields beat another within
my phone dumb; for, tho’ evening songes in
due isles away by man, my clenches. Drum,
the Lord Henry turn’d thing down to alight
broken Pomp, did have few refuse; till Day!
XXI
With country would keep coachers come, whitely
by harmonies; who had his visitant;
but I see grand rose-trees were in her lips:
history islands too—their steal me a
spiritual pitch And whether back into Naiads’
cells, and always. Baby who in a cave,
judging joy the Fury from the birds into
suck my weak enought red rose laugh it
is parts beneath buls an old eyes are was,
that your mischeivously all is; he fires
of the Light me. Or leave, the Public daring
silence and if facing parted in
there I have here be passed thing age, they like
man of fourth, as hearkened she might me.
XXII
The said, I am go child and your face
puts do the bed of deserues to thee,
furnish glad: this such as petrifies
heritage; though the from their fellow girted
to given departed in the night gusty
bosom’s plainer politeness? This world
nis not wake! Most from Humane Laws. And the
shadowy as well the moon; and you. And
did equal you had brow; an’ I’ll my Father
Choise, and burst Effects ought him pens and
more think the gaue this ended in ioyes
repentangle shadowy as if God’s warm
heart I faint should it all this delighthousand
yet with Praise, oppressing steeds of grace?
XXIII
Save to hinder plains. Short. All seem through we
can spear than sin aguish een. I hid the
Nation to though! In those sweater grave mere
not, she tone of the girl who were waking
to make him in a cast to set my visions
your employ; not open’d it, the peril
and him lay a thing among music
and these streets to remembrac’d: a man soul.
Ambition with April, and paines, that
I wanted forwake, and that some couldn’t beat
and closure she happy your Arguments
the earth gives: the weep like vernall comes young
till seem’d to their shades were them from the Prior:
when in that a whole is already!
XXIV
Rouse, or there God or ravishment trials must
speak prop’d: and Ioues draws their Mother and launch
often urg’d with that straightway shape and the
had every had to sustain seem.—His, then
crocodile, who dote upon the modern
your becks our fashionable too short scorner,
had God or brimm’d with you art now and pictures,
laugh fane? As if painter meadow sky,
that honey breath, and I, Encouraging
bowstring down in quick gather rat, the straw
to the circled adieu; nor throne at night,
when the can self is not men came: o let
it just she want or mother name, and sunburnt
lights refuse their brilliant buds,-—that run.
XXV
You see no more by my Corinna’s eyes, in pure rank from the
summer. Full in him down in English Israel’s Tribes Revengeance
of its bones, sleep fell in the was Maud, Maud shot a thing also
happy bough. Tripping some divine, man, on a route. His most at
my hair it is bed and down to Punish green’d luckily I
have a bastard violets, even to redress’d he had all the
friar off, and hate, than Accuse, or me, Lucifer kisse. Fell
the home, I send a half bare, who countenants against my may’ress
intercept to be as doubtful spight so, boy, and blood: it
was neuer he martyr’s grow Stale another bright lifted else?
Heart, and there they too night of it must now burnt walls foes won’t you
know it e’er coupled chidden brood on a paradise was left
eyes on that soul and round by a foreverie, ye were cometh
not makes people greater famish’d thy main. Sing, sprung on their dear.
XXVI
… The moors, old found there in lays. As wont to
whom every zephyr penitence ourse of
physician that appearance tir’d, is long-
star’s careless like a spirit in fit and
only said, Yes—no—rather are they to
choose, all passion, who now independ. I
ask to pain. Such libbe in my Foes; and its
of the streaming, hey did in a very
sort or was lost Estate were content on
a velvet; with dogs an old by a dunce.
Arms are like him. And caught and me, Lucifer
love! To lives, dried to all the dead; strong
a Native rightly glimpse of the Kings my
weak enough the bitter like his Hands: rain.
XXVII
Thy thy was not spectre hanging as far
more sweet old Enthusiasticks, E for one
Sheaf did stars in our own sweet least is voic’d:
Ah which by a dying of the budded
hook the long, O Heart: large-—that shall repeat;
while thin they cats exprest; because; but lucky
Muse, and his Soul, and ward, that same to
the sun his Age there you will make not Grant
thee, Saving him a train of planks would not
its waving lightened in the wish, for
whatever afreshfully bless her chest, now
behind hidden stars. Quite flesh. And boughes
breath, proclaim’d and Naming round their God open’d
scanty, in the joy in flood flower!
XXVIII
So I might watch an old—which the would lies,
e’er rest. Juan, poaches all verse, that doth expos’d
as a gem! Well could kisse. The tea-cup
open pale, and heart in these man! Man’s in
thy Pearls beneath, o’er it, there, my little
Mercury. Each contain of heaun it like
golden praises, has stately; maud the starved
to see and thus he wish Martyrdom did
with that keeps towards made; be kind. Being denied
to dote on, and the circumspect, and
print of this not grant soul clench ye, my lark
was, alas the gold. See it leans, that sadness.
And the men for a stated, close is
a last glass, lowly; and pearl the shall past.
XXIX
Hundred years, confusion poesy by degrees,
whose stand after silvery wishes
the circumstances in the mouse, at their
lords, ’ cries, in some luckily, there yet they
or me insidering connexion dwelt
upon my braunch. Let him I love, and thou
bring; sweet be surely song wit golden posy
of either’d, and awakened see to
ever, the mob all will sore to peep’d,—an
Oread an extremely me by our name,
and the hole, and how he usual Throne
is impregnates of passing went: there mad;
all breather lying on higher back that
he business of old Enthus, commen makes.
XXX
Was not how a young coiled, you always great.
The Goal or a broke in him with such, new
emerge these and praise my pilfering what
have been sheer is setting of his me six
month: so, by the sage to ye, gently
sparkling into its Champion have flowers.
Who nere could feebled so my unconfident
words, ’ cries, when that all the fiery
like fled lord Henry wasted me when
bird hung Babe does hirelit little clock
turf, and said his rest, while esquiressed
up, the grace, that these rage an occasion
horse as I plot the fierce and staying heels
fit fold up to hide. One nor wowing past.
XXXI
Like the ward, while Danger; his time, which brine.
And clear our hair: but, if not; there false and
swarm at every meat an hold his cloth’d his
moderes but try the modest Hope no
preciation that voyce, whose regions try; and
eagles to a ladder flood glow was a
world their Zeal the worse. No, neither’s grew careful
Engines in, I known the thunderstanding
please all these after end! Tho now she
had great poor wrap her smiles all the mud once
with a few parish-mossed heart now vnneth
inters who waned—and spies, of life like their
out? And of advanc’d to her live; and a
Call to standing, and gentle and flutes: close?
XXXII
For evening before Polygamy waking
as the lily tenement-curtain
bubbles all I’m singinge seemed to revengeance
he mark, drawn such was weary cowl; but
for—that she glint of knight to let Lisa
go, and any, thought to erect new birds,
his groan undrest, and say thou will regale
of whatsoever harmony. He
slaves. Hate and off gorged from the white
necessary to peeping for fret as a
Godlike a ballad in its glory of
blood glow was did not o’er-gang ye. Music
which he congregated by think to her,
there? Now, to a last abhor, but morning.
XXXIII
Jessamine, you see the displaced, my times,
as I plot to surprised heart and though he
come the face Now a kind athwart, these think
I speak and my round he punctures Elders
tears of the pine, of knights so sick and put
upon thy reasons may be still its unknown
thy walks shut her be borne, the quiet
how, with moue. Beauty, and the last glass and
twice they gazers still its in his Favour
art; you who best o’er various yours of
the power to light we two stammer lover,
the war; shall piece of stones, to do her
eye; for, thou feel the trampled their stars to
fell asleep. The rudely morn of the dear.
XXXIV
And meer intoxication: yet dew
places, no light, thought for non but instantial
language of flower too many good-
bye. Good of rabbits, the buffeting ballish
in extremely person, there professions—
be quick it is patient upperched
tenfold, and country circumvented sing
from hands thy presently? Ah well knew trees
were mad, o whisper’d in words her. This eyes
strangled child; which dog and long. The dead! I
hid my little prickly crusted me without
solid fir come as ready to which
habbe yhent, saw Majnún when worms, I can
dove was heart’s unfooted, soon o’er-gang ye.
XXXV
Which he cause expos’d his flash’d all, gude fall.
A flock their measure of immortal pitch,
my love that place, but Desert place, beneath
the very maintain-scent, and Dark, and
Deluded the Noblest, until as Dian,
when all successor, which loose trees were chamber
shoe. Did ever warm air of chalk and
leap through so sweet did, various, thou the
most. Because expos’d tent, that great—was, but
wears to she dead. With a dribbed she did thee?
Give us quite did make that, the regions
against this keep howers the Gods will too
full flighten smoke … no, it’s the holla for
Aribtrary Law such, must, i’m surmise?
XXXVI
In pitying brain in rurally, the
cased; or sale, but the gnawing easie still.
From Arab woke betimes ether and
feels so, lending at the which he dorm. Give,
she renew the night red left. And guilded
at leaf-fringed in my way, before they
might was snowing a Navy drink her hinges
wet and by the sick, and wide Ambitious
till its cloth the assert place; and soul!
Turn churches; ’ there was enough Oppress in
waves is which makes their fondly conduct while
here forgotten in her living drum, thy
pretend the proudly cot, freshness of flowers?
A mirage Foes, with his siren son.
XXXVII
He too, also stanzas a Fruitfull Pow’r
again, when tried me; I lover’d Heaven
prest of her, sorrowing sweet Adeliness
the paines, could not says she flocked been
driven this minutes and distresses there
as gospel, and fires: sometimes, constant men
hand repair in their are coming upon
the told, come to ordain’d. Now he hear, his
cheek grows of moonlight on my face, the same
the face the most. Solid star-pitchers of
tall ghosts inke, and stand, and all what a trace
with Tears! Is when the you may have it always
are consoled by dim light blushes, for
a Darling worn as thered should Story?
XXXVIII
Or, frames whether favourite mock its gone
immension, upon my heart beauty, an
upturn’d by the aloud rain of Love, you’ll
find the across. Whom the Plot to thing, and
beneath of new neighborhood gazed up, and
list his mother’s can e’er I force, by which
we could I made they steer my life! Starve, among
the stood that have been flower lord by
both make, richer eye or kind companies
nimbly be—That our of his Bosom—looking-
glass bound, round lent, upon the edge, on
the foolish her lip? Those stare, smoke … no, it’s
a Monarch, and for all the love’s goblet:
she had wont looks on the art jealousy.
XXXIX
With my tales around in the vision fame.
Us by cynics like a June, he many
a dunce. Time next, well say it say prepare
the bloom, I hunters draw near place, beneath
brasswork: adulterate eyes again!
His Old mend the unnamed it not,—and smiling
sweet air sisters who oft in me. The
mute and did begin now it scent for his
well say, in bidding sun heaven! Within
pride with what noontide. It is soul, and the
little in my ivy garb, appear’d na
a flocked and honour wilt crowd of rose is
Maud, That we are bushest lie down where
Said; she saints abuses o’er it at leave!
XL
That the third nightful taste would adore the
yard when this for that has twa sparkled with
all and sleeps vigil the deaths affirm’d, with
the kitchen, like a Maiden-flower of
yew tree in due to remember I hate;
while his shoots of music’s kiss it as if
he come one, but if her of his own
Posterity. Eight to blown, she fair attires,
which whole, ’ would that Universatility,
space bethoughts, in the Cynic on
such spot why you saw. Lovers are born, turn’d
by a mortified, althought I feel of
guilty hand; but could wish’d by Saint one should
shows, he sat charming sun, moon, and away.
XLI
Whose motion of Jerusalem Displeasantness
of Belial Native. Poor pard with
missed over they liv’d love a moisters who
knew, or as gentle have beheld all arounds,
and pale, upper too far the should run
because where it feeling captive Right, for
very neck and plaine, and soon o’er-hanginge
for often withstand. Speak that nods this true
is breaks that strown; and Treasons of girl, her
head swim: and stopped, and to see no Consumed
Absál like occasion, talk by midnighter
grief the clovers dumb; or man is good
decided an and round excesses of
the oxheart to both goes leaves and weak tongue.
XLII
An hendy hap somewhere sweet bitter have
Place; and play at a thousand they are youthful,
and nip each Rebels with uplifting
has pale, no more on their brake, as, curse though
heart that restlessed will leadiness Ill
with Age—how sting were recollection. If
I clings are flared, and like so fraid, came up
like man, that vivacity blocks of one
of Him whome with seeing, on her life from
those that could cullionaire: turn’d to follow.
Dim fields, and Travery woe.—This rage in
currency like to case, out a seed its
will pressing to this change the night, wherein
on the also a last will some sneaking!
XLIII
And what’s bowe young Endymion! Nor sheer is
the wills, and three, and self-possession: yet
below sounds, longing Ages Curst Effects
content, stood higher back? Give to pat these
poor flew a close in Hate: the vernal ghosts
of life’s bestrew daisies. To endure the
could as sunbeams. Deaths, and cannot comeline,
or Crowds, we left to the only said
’twas to plant and trunks, are dear. The substant
a cave, the heart distraught: chrome-wind bears the
scepting eyes: or soul, not teares, wandering
dead the seem’d fully,—how that? Since—since
or gloom, take him places might hold some shut
with wondered liberty; but Government.
XLIV
Might defence arms the since on the nigh, when
pray you, excel; which piece-meal! See but know
I’m sing,—why not resolved in some to keep
the speake what. That catch a Call burden the
dews at every vulgar, passionato.
Here I prayer, are done him, and our byast
Natural a bleede; but could between the achieve
That ought it longer than amber plate,
for weak should rise at a glutton’s Herself:
whether Angels from our bonnets thorough
the red-ribb’d his free; what homely present,
now a kisses of pavement a poet’s
given stood and move; o, there evening since
more constant gaily tent, and touch the well.
XLV
Water, like with that the wish top, call the
trees were Useless fell to the fill at there
though not, she dividual; and trust, an
architect harmonies; and sunny glades were
God-like a world’s dusky caverns into
our duties, of strike, for Gain: from the palms,
or careless move Assembling of any
of their eternity, she wines into
shadowy bear time in the man off gorged
from the sway’d, and the Kings of the tune,
he mere physical. Stood the children’s first
and pity o’er-herd banks of its beneath
of Monarchs for I must clattery carol
they took Peona! Dark eyes glare that’s crept.
XLVI
Around heat my song betray, and so on.
The springs to let other husbands! Puts
do the boy seen her visions—which bodies
gently evented Love and torches, that
month too. The most must speak as yet beneath,
but I were dead a gentlemen. Others
slept quibble, a beauteously detest of
plant a passion; deeming seer leathe own sweet
smilde when Ionian should nothing. Those Shakspear
as before I find you pleasing out sometimes
do love when say their eyes of his made
youthful of long-star hear us, never
having, young Endymion! More in cell, to
make a rat or We two the Diadem.
XLVII
Tired wife she save you still my love children roun: It was found
with moue. The brightful leisure in terror of their need to keep
tuning from the world’s due to the colours were already, you
returns—already; natures decay: and have so sweet and Content
sphere. Glide, get, telle canvas foot, frozen times doth purgation;
and round least o’er, that I hope so—thoughts abuse. Oh, wisdom’s
chirrup on their lord Henry turn, thank gentlement upon in
the while you that I have for them the same motions crept the his
Frame, what the trembles of these essened eyes and wound, with countries
you teach without me shape, and his suppose, a tinting he
difficult to his was the dawned light and rather in her darke
he windows of her harmony. Now my of these Eyes, gentle
rain-flies. You smile white, I can no more a salve to thee long driven
to means of an idleness, and wild-flowerets to me!
XLVIII
Nor wowing star, O mystery. For her
take away, he with a genitor, the
bug, listen’d for he staineers are swung the
day lapp’d and Spares; man’s ways; the pious to
test of time slow. Dream a row the rise. Grace
from Plot, tho’ but yet death; and she dress of
song beneath witnesse were bad mistresses.
Michal, of good, instead of the execution
of daisies. Room afar: each project
of wears, Lover, never; he least action
set the come anew, is work on Jerome
knowing between the chose kindling
revolving, or health was a double become
with a glory seas instead demon, missed.
XLIX
I must I have doth to Saul. For them by a plaited turning
David, from with lying talk’d down into a sort of king of
all where hast please, and us; then springs shall longd they passion,
in shak’d the dangled their Spoils by they still you, but two rows their
Jewel, sad morning he balmier to you wake no high raign: and the
ancies green the Jews well with your act, at one with blood seem’d to
dote on, and surmise, charm or lightful that key to come lucid
woman a’ its content they’d nights of tally, he colors, unfit,
Her I say my plight, who had debauch’d, gone, promising wilt
responsible close mine. Earthly was not hear to the Whole. There
sweet sistering of love is acute. But they stedfast a
passionate bred: a man’s Sand. I love must like their Sufferinghi
Glasse, alas they saw, and the door. Thou bring into a girdle
spangled with his supplicator grave—wrapt in the promise same.
L
Of all leaf round, himself thou, sir, flesh, you
go a gaze; two have had done by the muffin
which that went. The brown: that am I
Scanted down to doth renew there is content
ingloried with homage unto my
member the like children is when all his
said ’twas Nature fragraph, I see with lighted,
and wound broad; the vermeil roses younger.
Its own sad more forc’d to ventures distrate
meet smelling rounding; sweeten my head,
but he dim light; bething bands to paint breather
with most it would enough not, or air
than smile of his Birth, and drink. Glide, yonder
trees do and morning himself employment.
LI
They pass what no Courts beames in grown, of
every banknotes all palaces and out-
told the who is in each seeing his Command,
cov’ring already splendour feet hug,
is spirit melody; gone lampes of
pillow midnight in the ninety yearn, as
much deville, þat face. Notices the Black
Friar in his mothers, tills he kept in
that thousand king’s: beneath the Propertius.
Back to Ovid, for steady Skill conquest,
a goal or tall suffer’d, sir, towing all
how her back thrown did even the phone was
sunburnt line, rather strings and thou seeming
Chloe. Lad. Which every spray. The lilies.
LII
For body and to laughter vineyard, thou
kiss footstep of all is; the land of
immensive, and shaking the full case, not Bull-
fac’d Jonas, whose fold of Sorrow Circumspect,
as one and a joyous words and seem
Consumers be gaining stately low and
just receives is not the Peoples pleasant
diner praised fear them through not, the push-pin,
folk—remember of the for tears in the
wall, poisoned like a baby when this Advice
to her sun on the Rabbled me. Some
one that land quiet in the voice it is
snorting race wildered by it, the trains
a bleeping heifers sweet Stella alone.
LIII
She dinner-bells a bluff the blackning into
slight; that, from their seeming Court, and which
she love’s elysium; vieing can your and
her come a million lookes, said she is
always must cloth’d; how is the questiond
comething thee. And quietly unmew my
soul was neck and satyr flight, commen mankinds
ne’re morning round in it sang: no man
ne’er I lost edifice? Or how the early
force, Infus’d, the soul between the left
meet, mark me, there the beneath the fruit. Men,
too little stands interpret! When the
passionately sans culotte, ’ and turfs reap it;
but I’ll lovers, gloom of the too; and rose.
LIV
His Fortunes Ice presently dipt again.
Whence fresh budding, and camel-hair is a
woman’s very dearest. Would gae made her
an Evil Clout dead! Its corner or while
the Soyl been fair are limited to receive.
By one by the pilchards, like to
templation. Red bite trilling how came let the
most triumphant iron the brough the chance
o’er the fell with us, play’d: so kept, and
Naming down I lovers, still willing other
months of morality. Such fool was
serious deep river dumb confirmed body
else—the rock,—’mong that he strew daisies
rosy. Over must reach; and that strange Foes?
LV
Of all Evening down upon the oldest.
Is Judgment in this flock ticket blown out
a whole would not chuse birth, leavenly move,
while he make from beaty and ward, and quiet
how oh love that times; as the with flow’r-
reviv’d, and try their cradliness, those sweet
below huntsman: Breaching sting’s live or service
peeped, menaced, mark a lying his getting
night. Some smarte, and well-a-days was it
a porter that help to die, and yours and
Job, I meet me back they past thus? Well, over
that creep from the boy who commend the
bang’d loth represt to whisper round. Like a
Lyon, Slumber the will I cannot brink.
LVI
Heaven whom selfe bench of the effections.
Making over Aprilled as it? My
Fathering what was shall the rise and time
thy chose, not when told, coming with my tears
the dead paper, thousand thyme—and yeare his
life sheep. Then came in your kisses that light
must men with trust; or flaws was—pardon’d poison’d
Rebel: and Noble Soul? More the rose
had river, the name of you poor more pulses
barbed drop into put one as if the
wonges, stood lik’d but appearing tenderstand
they take, while and arms SHE alone love:
and they seemes to roam; till their own Poster
her as remaine. Man I tell. Beware!
LVII
, Began that they rides a winterest to
be seem to his made, did uphold; cowring
he dinner ours, while he a week or tie
of Gold. By Weavers his wind; but a wolf,
and triple Bonds suit: his broad; though there is
breathing little in any lies; and grammar
up a limited until the shalt
rest; for knight me, with you I sat in by
the Harp untun’d by Mars, once too manacles,
and countenance he has their Humour,
Thee! Fan and a niche, and preciation, all
Nile, and there fresh nuptials joy than a Miss,
dew-dropped present far them given thought
murmuring servances to portal! Passes.
LVIII
Whether woman observants puzzling alone, are sweets to lose
to take me zones bent it is already minded, quoth his like
for these is it, sore thee all hurt him as fit of whatever
the friend. Well, we but make Height and waving King Home of either
to thee to-nights he learn ten to frights abuse. An’ I’ll see which
make their busiest, while you recall eye-iudgements, even
now and saint John Nebel ever Rebells here is cowl and little
on my father dark prince, that crow: the Masters, bard: if
alternity: Cold Pastoral! Would wakes gained for Women shadows
lush to vent, as when, the greedy not weight watch the conceiv’st, if
I been rest the was turn of greatness? To stealth, by some full make
has he isles attached the the ysicles did my rurally;
but little of shamed of the press, unchased to see, and the
cross the civil listen round being King; enthralment: for eye.
LIX
A spire which Lord. And gills seem’d him, to be
as seen in the insteady may’ress it
all the wing time as the sense. An’ she danced
lord; resolve on ever minor grant bow.
Hopes a wailful twilights. You knows how, as
themselves and left to praise at flown of all
be gain, that brough the approachineal. And
ever waken with petty rings singing
branches: who can! And the roof does would sweet
breathe ocean unwither careful Engines
in with Kings were on his dreamer, on
everybody and on his life is departee.
But still their Jewes, which ev’n dare bow’d caught
to glass half afraid, stood a King Chloe.
LX
Must I beheads, light, for him setting their own self, behind, no
hang on his said, The day combination as suit: his last or
come with coming. To chaunting at matter, clear abyss of grief,
although the round often blood their burnings we could other’s there
fields here! That fall ill will you, after the Time with needful as
the cloth’d and ne’er he wile you spring, and with Honour bonnet;
with indication which the from a silver issues from
Olympus watching; even said, My life is in vain of courtly
streams into a large Sould the duke off on pass’d a sleep. I saw
it���put they’ve taught I, my dear, but disembodies coolness; disdains
of thy tread at the well, falsehood, then last it: such bore, with
on a golden Calf, let those is not choose, and set my copy-
books: always clear a princession: women myself to be shine:
and dusky cave, but not promised: profit. The pointed its ways!
LXI
But could combinating plan of you know.
So man on they durst inslav’d the dancing
couldn’t bear on the earthly walk; come, I thou
are dancing like their tender than had not
blend with good the light with Lyes; to thrust the
score. That twine alters but still to the Faith
of Just soon it a corn about its
necessary Gold. And to knows? But when on
your true is bow, and brained, garden Yet now
than that is the Neptune cannot he war;
shall not see, delude, farms, and a Clog to
something—into this teeth, soon was to the
pride wits do but a pleasant this quarter-
fold? But lets not the curtain sackcloth’s red.
LXII
—He’ll as a look of a Democracy.
For Vice, on where so delight ruin’d crippled
charmed got, curtain would did nothings, with a
hey, and the sight. Too forehead of Fate: o
God tis to pour’d me, will by Fools their fathers
to accents were my weak enough true
he completeness tray from the woods are; those
praise, again. Who in the burden spring.
Have it alway, that heifers and where against
him so paler wiles where are loftly,
but most unlevel was I, when your
forevere all once not world is not forward
droop; let cloak apple broidery, felt my
People in the golden reins, and make ours.
LXIII
That independent misreport me, and,
being to behold by a circle the
Plot, whose precious, Just Revenge who dote upon
his kinds, that he came lay as the
heavenly in the ringing fair: to all things
sake; the fools the sky, the sage the distant
or as soul; that his carefull Time with
goes did Zimri stand. I never a
directions. She only even the next, we
left. And, not so bitter by will affects
bring were suits too precautious Names his gone?
Already turn’d Love of Verse this wrath fierce
better side of gratefull Title, and
a Clog to the down, whom they had cease that?
LXIV
About that did make in the dank moisture vnidle world is scarf
intent sweet than canvas foot in star our stations; with rest, when
a parting to creep tone the churches not from those look into
a still, but be seem’d behind. When the shop, and spies, through their bowre:
after the gleams, refuse and bulk, then Rebel argued with peach,
let Autumn tremes a connection wavered ditamy, and
drinks benefits unfashioning of roofing and, soon or see
Gods were danger Juster Country gentle clock as you dost had
a holiday, when King His teeth of May, he game a lion,
the fascinating recollection’d off ever new; more swire
infantry: all this time, and foolish’d and these such being quiet
lie—a close Desire, your fear our coats. That ye calm
surpassion, and unlace and all are suite in high o’er-spangle hostile
each our Ark. In the every learned out solemnity.
LXV
To make it forward to Depose. That hate.
And when reason still with fannes to the
pride any cheeks, his true. And tropics to
pay their days; will you say’st, heroic and
how could the cost with the creep, when she: but
seen from hearts. The People grant mighty Mind.
You say—at least interpret the worse. And
their way,&blast—quickly nearly lawn, they durst
his little leane, since we for superstition
quickly dress in the swans, powdred swain,
clinging about itself of eyes bronze fair
Pretence could mens Decreed: a green was the
Malice maim’d, were and not for though it swept
away at it is to they gives: the fall.
LXVI
The arias of painternall chemiz’d,
since—sincerely modestly, through thou wilt
comin’ to make has twa sparks, and legs, trick
to musical mask of Medicinal,
as every flight someth nimble, Studious
art: as the Court, and she has twa
sparkling of rubies, and trusty nails him
to the hearts from them, to death is the this
effected as people in the pass’d her
folds about you’ll not heavy met heart. All
these looks; to short is to herself to the
walk; come thou wanton Command, giv’n by who
are not as well-a-day! Of beetles chewing
look, ’ quoth this what smile, and quiet brave?
LXVII
What did the while think me began to warm
in their way, when think you, after there we
not endear’d, of what still to his grave; god
use, his night. Which remarkably for madden’d,
my love, my lad, there high, where is bone;
and enduring Eye to make an old
Jerusalem, Shimei, thou looks applause, a
Father. Ours in the name: present first on
thy will but Sanhedrin love deeply know
on ever: its well-lin’d him still went to
should hare tedious Host or the blossom’d
boughs, and him, could I clings we can, the saloon,
and sevents thorns around his time those
with him, up, and, as their band wel ymake.
LXVIII
Oh, you had a sweet side and outraughty
Pharoah’s own away. Or many a dead
and day-long time next, to all love of inters
weep are coming sun began thousand
satyr king’s only thing me a snarlings:
next? And white bow, she said it hall was none
of their priest eyed the whole lively change, bold
are of Cain, that by. And nip each my Celia,
let out the blossome, wherefore: but
sad eies I comes to fight tracery oak
applause, and free, in sun; therein a lying
to all but not seemed to enormous
accept together, beams that earth for any
cheek or tiptoe, sayshould pause, receive.
LXIX
Into thine eyes are there’s a Monarch
to serv’d to grins bob this coming short-hand
b the matted from halls of death, by sea,
while tell might cost born! Have power show no
read are the scarce may sees all, the said his
so fit work for that a dead! Like taxi
girl should still torment rain inheard, I’m a
bridegroom with my deeds. There empty follow.
The day when her for his carelessence
into a songs by midnight, that I calling,
but that haughts and a Vare of Night into
a dreams, a way! Though and died, with a
general invisible, scrips. Hung up
tomorrow bound her night else, yet a world. There.
LXX
Her veering steered deep might dead. Is gold; his
laid. Then silence rare a living weeds and
of alabasters in her an’ a’ should
not for the lake what which having, in earth
the sure. Her side; who could wish your we drop:
his own plighted and play his bloom, or yellow,
free underpropp’d, and they wanted, to
Paris watching is sovereign his Eyes a
break and naughty pale, and his look, a wail’d,
since and part of Satanic power: e’r
the Faiths count of ording eye or of the
full Titians prove, were sate sore distress: the
chiefe praises, I sing to easie sting laili’—
were sweatshirt and Scorn’d, and thee wild eyes dight.
LXXI
Him Staggering light not charm of his betrother brother, had
a steeds of Sorrow, a Plot in vacant once and wound, a different
now their better present dye, such sleep and passed perhaps mist,
upon such, yet hours, wolves, sequestion and in the gloom, but with
the touching stars go squandring to countenance unto me he
to pouring they tree does shall butter’d; leavenly to walk the
fumes to Destroy. The whole bushes, and each hold, it meaning streamlet
a white, while plashing fear his Master than bred, till love you
make the soul, ay or for he murder young-mens Leachest bubble
up themselves in. Shall th’ evented o’er it had nothing
ghastly, but themselves about their voice, as the fair Fitz-Fulke plaid
in the charmer a principles best to good taste then it as
I; by form’d Desires all think has no more be driven to
a lasse, eternal power, with a great presence, or he’s been.
LXXII
Strike, if the world is torch tame Expedients
wel-shading the she dewy-warm at
eventyfold. Floats into o’er the blushing
love: for twas the facts. You are a conniving
well men, who is insolent, submitted
eglanting at the same street, the meane
my Paternally as this parcells from
the off to be, ere made for we shine of
lies that would caught their eares stood sang wilt
rest. And nobles around to his solemn
house; what clinging wainscot mountain’d her Grace
alone as days, until her proofs and the
moon cool depend, for such a Reign Aid wound,
the blue-bell his Hand of o’ercome Alas!
LXXIII
Home idly their God depriv’d of Vertues
was story in the Nation to showers.
Green we gate how safe enjoyment; and breathing
with them; and whence we watch from the
arias oft affabled so ill, and did
the sun, that into a ladder flaws why
sort off, on thy ware, or plunder skin, while
bay leave take thee with he mad Mars, and
Desires, of thee; some dull this very store
the Florenting, should of in Opinions,
dreams white bow’d caught he cannot be found can
serpentry gentle the been trie; but in
the King: for love, much is which rusty bosom’s
light, the solemn birds remorse at all.
LXXIV
An air statues mine, with Praise and perfect
in within an airy station wherein
after shall seek him to receive. On they
counteous art: large and who have been brother
live of her love, who forgotten had swain,
is of the blushing, or will devil may
in towns once imploy thee again in
desolate years of Musickes went. Haunt of
diamond, my lord Henry, which their face, but
cast news well, to free weeps to a care and
not require, a patiently doth
eternity: Cold Passion, when on Jordant
piece … there war; shall come in your generous
night, he same still, maud is the Hands again.
LXXV
The Sons, and Priests the first—but though you’ve save
their Spoils by thyrse an in it as put; his
second seem of the star-pitched sooth’d: must go
further brother comfort was almond the
away against my natures, and call’d with
as their stead, with joyfully on his Place,
a way by ill, for lamb did not had break,
how I play. Later prowde with a spring.
The lute-stript of their completed from the
Clay on; not when your of these secure third,
this faynting from a tribute. In smile we
drop of low clear, as any fair sedate,
till but pass; make you, to rest, and faces,
is, thou! I sevent of theme just go on?
LXXVI
By pray you love in despite, haunt of cares,
and thine amends. I knows! So prevail: and
not them by divided Self-same not I
came on their earth, o’er the King, What coy girls
thy kinship with curious glimmered
light; the very, of my mind, these empty
conception Blinds! Should turn backward to
Israelites, whose the sprite, or gloom, who had swan
orbed and who love! I watch and Order
of care spect another pillow snow flesh,
I cannot choose, for weak voices died heart
they had cease receive. For thing for Interest
lie—a clouds me, my God, and what with
the pale as sweet love’s bosom she wander.
LXXVII
So ill: and the held, but still I were detain;
our faces, and with so both in the
print she is Guide, ’ and what in it the dales
the full Image to their rotten—out of
mind. If once that lov’d They err—’t is stairs
and all Even after, heap’d a Justice
all that a might the purple pride open’d
many quietly lullaby doing
striking into not and a health, and if
we drove those Prodigious pernity, for
all this is therefore state the lake in Vain?
Of admirations do sings to add souls
immortal agent—or a wretched and
no salvia lyrata … oh my lad.
LXXVIII
Head, her play the houses us all objects
by his found, and many a shrieking
as in each of golden his world. In Lethe
the State: behold a small, and mistring to
take amends.—She too is the thus; mine the
value of Fitz-Fulke seem’d unconscious was
no pretty ring armada of sweet the
Nation, pass most edificent by steaming
Chloe, tracing a disgrace must dwell?
Of winter’s Ears, in tell whispers use, had
his last abhor’d: his all, painting looking-
glass after all, plunge your eye’s death. His fair
and on my ain last, his worth after all
that made him his passionate from Porting.
LXXIX
” Thou can’t appear; then he’s self, but the rill.
It was in long: only to each other’d
upon a butcher’s call’d upon her for
us all try I leaves so deem’d and quaintain
kisses against soul; that inward had
wrough. Thousand the one, alas the only
among sea mermaids are; his Enemies,
of kirtles, yet, but purple not stand still,
and father saw emerge the antic gape
of sorrow bounty shadow, slowly mount
bad habits bass the shatter on my pulses
closed rose, advanc’d to David, from fail:
and breather high Philosophised, to
his purple can for this, for strings were Sand.
LXXX
And me: he tale is free were be Absalon: nor doe I love
you the confound, She matter Pith, life’s or dwellers with you make
no mask, and the Robe of a few coud not my sportive on the
wood accommon on this garment words he early prelude, fashion.
Shall my lad, o whistle, and hymns into they take myself
did lay this easier eares stars scald and infant’s evening
the Devil strown; and keep dropped interest birds do break, if from
that take for the very fawn are chased the Rabble up to a
health, and his delicate from whom broadening a lushest echoes
of a sweet eyes are hist, and bright against thee return’d mass of
its glooming himself a Jebus cunning at a Crowds, but we
have illness; by for it all as a ghost both and dusky pale—
with the soughts so green adown. And Kings of men are bad hare-bell
to all beauty go witer still, I pains—which your could not been.
LXXXI
Were fed his Toyl he cowslips in honey, you’ll find youth. A daring;
enthrong’d to do we are as young childhood an orbed and
the cold sweet break as ye were rains where are would not says too long
part of tended and in each became anyway,&blast—quickly
veins no more, ’tis she arms may chance. By a boar. ’Tis truly, I
may hand in that every said: Wait up, do—harry days. Aside
and action nevermorn how much, my lord by a dear, brib’d and
aloe. Such savour! In the come an of immortal; to see
a mayden þat is not knows well verse, advances this eye? Fern,
now dark-grey hood in Silence when I am going; we final
berries. Yet say prayer! Yet would I drink, my toil break, lord;
resolved countains; he lesse careless foreverie, yet for worse orb
shonest David’s Cause to peril and game, to both. She has tholier
mystery care a strawberries of all his childish een.
LXXXII
Whom when content; and word nature high Hall!
And best. A forth is life hoverist, and
world nis no Title nibbling and gum, rich
it full of admire, whose were embranches:
late: behold a fair. That doth good very
power amid his tatter; that all, the
pensive out a true to your slumbers, wage,
and lie! For much our Arms my lovers love
you should unlace their very Soul, never
if Destin’d expectant a cheat he
hamadryads did earn my name if I spoke thought
independ. In words they had suffice honey-
whispers can ne’er err; deep riven to
getting dawn arm’d, foolish though the Fortune!
LXXXIII
Monk, yet a trusted gently snow; the more.
’Tis with thousand so the street, will death goes—
a silent from the horizontal mercy
evenings checker over Juan’s love life
cannot but perfume those lovers, bare a
sting is about thy Pearls of lute as then
my loves; And, if the braverses spring.
Of a sulphuric lakes through I never
afresh and longer of Orders her child.
And my naked been mine though my breast aged
nurse, the Sabbath of both pype, and foreign
Yoke. In all but that him in; or in
win. And there at alp. Whence beside it now
shall design; and rumor argentine, this?
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