#this is such a good arthur design i love all the little details

[winterdaphne2]

Gay Easter Eggs in BBC Sherlock

(I trust the above requires no explanation.)

Perhaps someone has done this before, but I wanted to put together a compilation of gay easter eggs in the show that I’ve seen other people point out and/or have thoughts on myself. So here it is!

When I say “easter eggs,” I’m thinking of small clues that the show creators included in the set designs, music choices, and other details of the show to reference that Sherlock and John are in love. I’m thinking of things you could miss at first, especially little clues that often require a bit of extra information or require observations across episodes to understand.

Of course, there’s also lots of subtext woven into the show, moments where interpreting the dialogue or visuals in a certain way tells us something about Sherlock, John, and/or the state of their feelings for one another. I’m not sure if I can clearly define “subtext” versus “easter eggs” and explain what distinguishes them, but at least to me, several of the things I’ve listed here seem a bit different from what people often refer to as subtext. Maybe subtext is about uncovering the layers to a piece of dialogue or an action that takes place in plain sight and seeing how that impacts our interpretation of the story, but easter eggs are about spotting smaller, hidden details. I’m not trained in literary or film studies, though, and I’m not trying to be doctrinaire about this at all! This list is just for fun, anyway. (The above image might not actually count as an easter egg, but I couldn’t resist including it here. Indulge me.)

The more I read about this show and the harder I look, the more I think that hardly anything is there on accident. All these easter eggs must have been included on purpose. The creators knew they were telling a love story all along.

I’ve linked to the posts where I initially saw people point these out or to other good sources, and for some of these I’ve added my own commentary/observations/interpretations. I’m sure there are many other easter eggs that I’ve missed! What have you spotted?

John’s PIN in TBB – When John tries to pay for his groceries at the beginning of the episode, we see that his PIN is 743. In ASIB, Irene’s code to unlock her phone is SHER, which would be 7437 on a phone keypad. So, John’s PIN is a clue that he is or will be in love with Sherlock. Source: @loudest-subtext-in-tv, here.

Shaftesbury Avenue, 20m from Piccadilly Circus in TBB – While investigating in Chinatown, Sherlock and John bump into each other at what used to be a cruising spot for gay men in London. Source: @the-signs-of-two, here.

Archer the American in ASIB – In the scene where the American CIA agents try to get Sherlock to open Irene’s safe, the head CIA agent pressures Sherlock by threatening to have one of his men shoot John. The agent says: “Mr. Archer, on the count of three, shoot Dr. Watson.” Ordering someone named “Archer” to shoot John could be a reference to Arthur Conan Doyle’s poem “The Blind Archer,” which is about Cupid and describes Cupid shooting two men who sound an awful lot like Sherlock and John. Source: couldntpossiblycomment, here.

“¿Dónde Estás, Yolanda?” in TEH – The song that plays during the scene with John and Sherlock’s disastrous reunion at the Landmark restaurant is a cover of the song “¿Dónde Estás, Yolanda?” performed by the band Pink Martini. The Spanish lyrics to this song are about searching for a long-lost lover, which is fitting for the scene where John sees Sherlock again for the first time since his fall. Notably, the creators didn’t use the first of the two versions of this song that Pink Martini has released. The band’s first version appears on their 1997 studio album Sympathique and features a man singing about a woman. Instead of using that version, the creators used the version from Pink Martini’s 2011 compilation album A Retrospective, in which China Forbes performs most of the vocals. So, the creators deliberately chose a remade version of the song in which a woman sings about a woman. They chose a gay song about searching for a long-lost lover for Sherlock and John’s reunion. abrae (@tea-and-liminality on tumblr) has a meta with more to say about the use of this song here.

John’s “oscillation on the pavement” in TEH – In TSOT, John observes a potential client standing outside 221B and trying to make up her mind as to whether to come in. Sherlock tells John “I’ve seen those symptoms before. Oscillation on the pavement always means there’s a love affair.” In the previous episode, John came to visit Sherlock at 221B but hesitated on the pavement outside, staring at the door and trying to decide whether to go in. Sherlock’s comment, “I’ve seen those symptoms before,” is a hint that we, the audience, have also seen those symptoms before��with John in the previous episode. Source: @bidoctor, here. (I saw someone else point out that last part about Sherlock’s hint to the audience, but I can’t find that post, sorry!)

Lilac dresses in TSOT – While planning John and Mary’s wedding, Sherlock chooses lilac-colored dresses for the bridesmaids. When John tells Sherlock that he likes the bridesmaids in purple, Sherlock pointedly corrects him by stating that the dresses are lilac. Apparently, “In Victorian times, giving a lilac meant that the giver is trying to remind the receiver of a first love.” So by dressing the bridesmaids in lilac, Sherlock is trying to remind John of his first love: himself, Sherlock. My heart breaks. Source: @asherlockstudy, here.

Putting the horns on Mary and Janine in TSOT and HLV – In TSOT, there’s a shot where Mary gives Sherlock and John a thumbs up before they head out on a case. The way Mary is standing, the horns on Sherlock’s cow skull thing on the wall behind her are placed right over her head. (I always thought this shot looked pretty weird, but now I see that it must have been intentional!) In the HLV scene with Janine at 221B, there’s a moment when Janine steps in front of John in the frame to kiss Sherlock, and her movement positions the horns right over her head. “Putting the horns” on someone means cheating on them. So in both cases, placing the horns right above Mary’s and Janine’s heads indicates to the audience that Sherlock and John are the real relationship in this show. Source: this post from multiple users on the @sherlockmeta blog.

The architecture of Sherlock’s mind palace in HLV – In the mind palace scene after Mary shoots Sherlock, the architecture of Sherlock’s mind palace is based on locations from ASIP. Sherlock literally built his mind palace out of places from his first case with John, illustrating that his relationship with John is what grounds him and that it means everything to him. abrae has some very helpful screencaps of this here (and I would recommend that whole meta, btw!)

The glasshouse scene in TAB – In TAB, the Victorian John tries to ask Sherlock about his sexuality and sexual history while they’re sitting in a glasshouse. In Victorian Britain, “glasshouse” was another term for a military prison. So John, a military veteran, asks Sherlock about his sexuality in a setting that represents where he would have been sent if he had acted upon his homosexual desires at a time when homosexuality was criminalized. Source: @haffieliesel, here.

What do we say about coincidences? The universe is rarely so lazy.

[tempestuous-tempest]

You Carve Them Wooden Animals:

[Red Dead Redemption Version]

☆Going based on animals I associate them with.☆

Dutch: Rattlesnake

"Aw, look at that. Well, ain't you a real doll." He likes it. The little, well detailed miniature gets happily placed onto his shelf. There are even some times where he holds it in his hands while thinking.

Hosea: Fox

"You made that pretty little thing for an old man like me?" Goes into the box of oddities. Said box is filled with random things that other people have handed him over the years. Snake rattler from Marston, a few turkey feathers from Arthur, and other odd things. He adores the little fox.

Arthur: Stag

"You made this?" He is confused on why you would make him the cute little deer. Leaves it on his little table when at camp, but when travelling far, he puts it in his satchel.

John: Wolf

"A toy???" He doesnt know how to feel about it and gives it to Jack to play with. Dont worry, Abigail makes sure nothing bad happens to it. :D

Javier: Jaguarundi

"This for me, mi pequeña artista?" He grins. He's curious to why you chose a jaguarundi, but he loves it. Always showing it off to others. Just look at what his little songbird made him.

Lenny: Bobcat

"A bobcat?" All smiles. Carries it around on his person at all times. If he lost it he would cry. It's just too cute, and it has no business looking so fluffy despite being made of wood.

Sean: Irish Hare

"Cute, but why am I a rabbit?" Thinks there's some big meaning behind his animal. He's right, but he gets the reason wrong. Will not shut up about it. Most of what he talks about. Will absolutely look at the ones you made for the others and get all jealous and start making up derogatory meanings for why they got that animal. They ignore him. Well, 'cept John who got into a fight with him about it.

Charles: Bison

Accepted. No questions asked. He will treasure it quietly. Holds it in his hands for about an hour after recieving it, just to go over every little detail and marvle at the craftsmanship. If anything happened to it, even something small like a hardly noticeable crack that looks like part of the design, he will know. Even notes the wood it's made of.

Kieran: Stallion

"Aw, gosh. You didnt have to." He's all giddy about it. Takes real good care of it. The only thing that he will not allow people to pick on him about. He loves it.

Swanson: Jacob's Sheep

"Wha's dis?" He blinked slowly at the small carving you handed him. He was a tad wasted when you gave it to him. When you explained that you made it for him, he grinned and raised it into the air, stumbling about and showing it off. "I gots a sheep!"

Strauss: Shark

"You're giving this to me?" He was surprised that you gave him anything at all, but also found it humorous that you chose a shark of all animals. The reason for the association not lost on him. It now sits on his table with his books and ledgers. This was why you were his favorite.

[milgram-tournament]

MILGRAM Best Song Tournament, Round 2, Match 2 BRING IT ON vs. THIS IS HOW TO BE IN LOVE WITH YOU

Propaganda for both options under the cut!

Propaganda for BRING IT ON:

"Reasons why Bring it On should win:

- Just by starting the song, the instrumentals are BANGER. Like his more rock style is very cool, even better than After Pain’s more mellow style - Arthur’s voice (Futa’s va) had bills due because have you HEARD his singing?? His raspier voice fits Futa so well - It feels so explosive and like a call to action in a sense, which very much matches Futa’s mentality during trial 1. He also wasn’t playing victim like a CERTAIN girl… (jk, love you mu!) - SAA HAJIMEYOU USOTSUKI KARIDA - UNDEAD HEROOOI YES SLAY KING HIS HIGH NOTE HERE IS HEAVENLY - His scream at the end. Oh my god. HE LITERALLY ATE THIS NOTE. AFTER PAIN COULD NEVER. BRING IT ON FTW 🔥🔥🔥" - His range goes WAAAAAY higher than Mu. She would end up like PHG if she even tried hitting any of his high notes in the last chorus /j

---

- The vocals are amazing, those growls are so well done - You’re able to get Fuuta’s crime and motive pretty succinctly, only based on the visuals - But it still leaves a lot up to interpretation, like how he only attacked once in the final fight scene. It lead to some cool theories. - On that note, the game aspects are so cool!! Especially when paired with him going after people online, just good synergy with awesome style! - Fuuta’s scared face after he realizes what he did. The great contrast of other foes simply being knocked out then being met with blood splatter. - The tempo of the song changing with his mood is a really good touch as well. Make the song more chaotic which highlights his character traits well

---

"propaganda for bring it on: the music FUCKS it genuinely slaps so hard listening to it. song style is incredible its perfect for fuutas personality and gamer vibes. also the way the mv frames everything as a game? the only time real blood and real gore happens being when killcheroy dies? the little details of all the usernames, the different monster designs, the generally distorted feel of everything being too lighthearted?

okay i could go on about the mv for hours but lets not. aside from that: the FEEL of the song!!! the vocals!!!! it really feels like fuuta putting his whole heart into it, into this point of view that both blows problems out of proportion and minimises them, and DEEPLY fucking up. my darling little hypocrite gamer boy twitter user. he makes his witch hunt genuinely sound like something that could sweep people up into it. also the instruments goddddd. the guitar and synth the bass and the drums the DRUMS. im relistening to it to write this propaganda and it keeps making me headbang when i should be writing. if you arent headbanging to bring it on you are LYING.

the way the lyrics are written is wonderful too!!!! they feel so brash and brave and powerful and like. cocky about it. and it fits PERFECTLY. its gets someone swept up into it and it FUCKS. vote bring it on im serious. lets go!! a victory march!! dan da dan!!"

Propaganda for TIHTBILWY:

okay so like the thing im most in love with: the VOCALS!!!! this song has an absolutely AMAZING singer and AMAZING vocals!!!! the way the conversational talk-singing lines still feel so musical!!!! the cute cute cuteeeee mahiru voice!!!! it brings you so much energy!!!! its a song sung with so much love!!!! mahirus va brings such an amazing feel to the song with such amazing talk-singing!!!! its very skillfully done and it happens in i love you too!! mahiru songs r the QUEENS of musical talk singing

the silly phone call bit. kurururu~!

the little vocal flourish and the way her voice raises up like an excited exclamation in the final prechorus!! daijoubu nante kirai DA!

its such a fast song but everything flows so well!!!! it makes it feel so bright and cheery and peppy!!

the instrumental is so underrated just LISTEN to that catchy bass line thats so pretty in the verses!!!! no for real even if u dont vote this is how to be in love with you go listen to the bass line in the verses it works to move both the song and the listener forward at mahirus sweeping breakneck pace. and the cute keyboard sounding and synth instruments!!!! its SUCH a danceable song!!!! i cant listen to it without bopping along in my seat

the way the ominous bits are subtly hidden? it all sounds so cute but there are just these Things that she sings that are really kind of concerning and unhealthy when she sings them!! and the veiled desperation to be in her relationship- listening to that and the cheery tone and breakneck, quick song pace, it really does represent mahiru SO well. she throws in all these little bits that just go noooo teehee the relationships just fine!! when it REALLY isnt

i would listen to mahiru talk for hours

the MV!!!!!! HER FASHION SENSE THE MAGAZINE STYLE!!!! the magazine style especially works so well with her character!!!! its so cute and stunning and just looking at it you have a blast. also her birdcage!!!! her birdcage and the bright orange and the pink bars!!!! the way everything desaturates and becomes more sickly looking when she wakes up at the end!!!! its such a happy carefully curated and designed dream and then it drains away!!!! also god all her outfits are stunning. mahiru call me

the way she sings "overheat de~!" cutest thing in the WORLD.

the little faces she makes!!!! godddd shes so expressive

actually the whole songs so expressive!!!! shes putting her all into it!!!! her words have so much expression in them!!!! once more praising mahirus va the way her voice can soften and become bright or subtly desperate so quickly is MASTERFUL control of expression when singing and its so underrated. join me in being insane over miho okasaki delivers her lines. shes such a perfect mahiru.

funniest es cover. hands down. funniest es cover.

this is how to be in love with you is FREE serotonin!!!! free energy right there!!!! this is how to be in love with you sweep!!!!!

---

-The song is so cheerful!! I always feel like dancing and singing when this one comes up in my playlists!! Absolute banger, mood definer, kicking sadness in the shin with those high-heels and then hitting its face with a cute purse -THE HIGH-HEELS STEPPING TO THE BEAT OF THE MUSIC IN THAT ONE SCENE (0:50). SIMPLY ICONIC. NO ONE DID IT LIKE HER. -👠💅👝👗 -She is slaying. Look at her outfits. She put so much effort there. She gave it her all. Absolutely serving. -SUKITTE KIMOCHI WAKATTA TSUMORI? NARA KONO MAMA FUTARI O-VA-HI-TO- DE -The storyline of the mv MAKES SENSE and you can form a COHESIVE TIMELINE OF EVENTS (unlike other unspecified contestants' mvs you know 🙄) -look at herr 🥺 she beby 🥺 all she did was love too much 🥺 we all love mappi don't we 🥺 she deserved more let her win this pleease 🥺 -No medical malpractice happened in the making of this mv 👍

---

I care so much about This is How To Be In Love With You- it's visuals are brilliant in the ways it conveys its themes and narrative. I'm never normal Ever about the "Love as marketing" symbolism that is brought in by the use of magazines. It's a lovely upbeat song but the Horrors are Always Lurking under it, the breakup Ritual line is my Favorite Line cause its so horrifying but its said so casually and its so good oh its so good-

[pcrushinnerd]

Headcanons: Your Daughter Dressing Up As A Clown for Halloween

Summary: You and Arthur dress up your girl as a clown for Halloween upon her request.

A/N: Arthur and his fans could use some fluff about now, and this idea popped into my head a few days ago.

~~~

Yours and Arthur’s daughter is as cute as a button.

Each of you says she has the best features of the other.

But mostly, she just naturally has a bubbly personality. She's the ray of sunshine that chases away the dark clouds for you and especially Arthur.

She saw things with a child’s wonder and awe, especially the holidays.

LOVES Halloween. Before she’s even old enough to comprehend fully what it is.

Her first costume of sorts is a cat, her first Halloween of her young life. Which mostly consisted of a leopard print onesie and whiskers drawn on by Arthur with one of your eyebrow pencils.

Thereafter, you both let her “choose” her own costume for several years by showing her different pictures or buying whatever costume she eventually pointed to at the store, to whatever had struck her fancy that particular year.

Her choices had largely been pretty standard: ghost, witch, pumpkin, ninja, princess.

Around age six or seven, she had spied Arthur in full clown mode one day, and she was instantly enamored.

"I want to be a clown this year!"

Arthur nearly fainted, he was so over the moon at that response to your yearly costume query.

You had asked earlier that year, because you had a funny feeling she was looking to do something more elaborate, from how closely she would look through your sewing patterns and craft supplies around that time. So the three of you had time to put together something good.

Arthur sat her down one day shortly after with a bunch of crayons and colored pencils so she could start to design what she wanted. He had his own input on things--mostly the finer details of traditional and newer clown costumes, the why behind things, aesthetic choices, etc., that you could tell he himself studied up on at some point, but he offered them as helpful tips and suggestions, and made encouraging comments on whatever your daughter dreamed up.

Finally, they unveiled the final design to you one day after you got home from work. 'Ta Da!!!' your little girl announced as she held up her drawing.

You slipped off your hat as you took it in hand. "Aww, baby, I'm so proud of you! Let's see what we got." You were surprised at how many frills it had in its skirt, and unfortunately you had to say no to the high heels she'd drawn (Arthur had also scribbled something about that), but you informed her that you should be able to make it work.

And so you dusted off your sewing machine. You preferred working with your hands, but you knew the machine would be quicker and the end result with it would likely look better. So after a bit of struggling to get the bobbin to work, you took your girl and Arthur with you to your favorite hole in the wall craft store nearby.

All sorts of pastel colored fabric samples were purchased, along with bows and bells and some fake flowers. It was a bit of a splurge for the two of you, but both of you did have a hard time saying no her.

It took you about two weeks, but you managed to put together a dress with a full, frilly skirt made of the colorful and sometimes glittery or shiny fabrics bought, as well as a matching headband.

Arthur had managed to find a smaller clown horn with a pink bulb to match for your daughter's costume. Mostly, his contribution came in doing her make-up the day of. Each time he added a circle or triangle, he let her review his handiwork in the mirror and, with her approval, continued on.

Her final look wasn't too different from what Arthur would wear--just a bit neater and cuter.

"Daddy, won't you dress up too?"

Arthur was a bit hesitant at that, but he couldn't bring himself to say no to her. "Of course Darling."

You couldn't help but smile broadly when you saw Carnival enter the room, holding your girl in his arms.

The two of you also splurged a bit to have a car take you to the nicer suburbs west of the city for actual trick or treating. Besides a handful of nice neighbors in your building...you generally don't trust the people in your own neighborhood enough to go knocking on their doors.

Your daughter gets a lot of compliments on her outfit, and Arthur gets quite a few as well.

A few of the people passing out candy give you a curious look--as you were the only one dressed normally in your little family.

You would quip that you were ‘the driver’ or ‘the assistant’ or the like.

Your daughter managed to snag quite the candy haul that night. After both of you carefully examine them, you let her have a few pieces on the car ride back.

Yet despite the sugar, your girl is asleep on her Daddy's shoulder when you arrive back home, she's that tuckered out.

You and Arthur stay up for a bit, after he's de-clowned, to watch a classic horror movie or two and try to avoid eating your girl's candy stash. You mostly succeed.

[polariscroquis]

The last study I did on my Arthurian Legend character concepts: the woman herself, Guinevere.

As I stated before, I'm following more the 5th century, fighting saxons on the bloody fields of Britain praying to pagan gods, rather than the very Catholic version of the later medieval retellings.

Therefore, my Guinevere is very much pagan and tough hahahaha for a guy like Arthur to fall madly in love with her - and a guy like Lancelot too, of all the men in that island - she had to be one hell of a woman.

I always imagined her with fiery hair, very tall and athletic even, with killer eyes - so here she is.

More on her design and how her character fits in my personal take of the Arthurian Legend, under the cut!

Regarding the colors I chose for her, I went with a darker blue and gold to give her that regal look she would certainly have - also this tone of blue contrasts with her coppery hair, so I thought it would look good!

She has two versions, because one would be Court Guinevere while the other would be War Guinevere - both of them keep the cape, because I wanted something to be "constant" on her design. Also, the cape sort of gives her this imposing look, again something regal.

I remember watching George Lucas talking about how Anakin always wore a larger and darker cape/coat than other Jedis on the prequels so he would have that signature Darth Vader silhouette and imposing presence - given Hayden Christensen is taller than almost everyone in the movie xD I took that to heart and gave it to Guinevere 🖤

Now, from what I know, 5th century dresses weren't TOO filled with details as later medieval fashion, so I couldn't go crazy on her design here. I ended up using that wonderful painting, Accolade, as a reference for clothes.

With her war clothes, a little more complicated. Ended up searching for Jeanne D'arc references because I didn't want to have her look like King Arthur 2005's war Guinevere even though I LOVE those clothes.

Since she's a woman, it would make sense back then people would want her to stay as far away from slaughter as possible, so she has a bow. Everything is moon shaped with her, though, as a nod to the Great Goddesses, as well as the Goddess of the Hunt herself, Artemis.

Now on my take on how her character fits in my Arthurian world hahahaha

Guinevere loves Arthur a LOT. With Lancelot, though, both have their pagan upbringings and she doesn't have much of the moral compass Arthur has - she leans more on the Lancelot morality spectrum. She is a fighter, a queen, a woman with fire on her soul and enough intelligence to run entire kingdoms and destroy empires: and that's why both have fallen for her, even if she has eyes for only one of them.

While Lancelot has the charms, Arthur has the soul. Arthur can give her a safe place to fall and he can command a whole country like no one else - Guinevere admires that. And she is too great to be with a man she doesn't admire; she's never going to put herself down for a man. She needs to be with someone who meets her in equality.

Not that Lancelot doesn't, but all that ability to run kingdoms and such is not in him - even if he is prince of Benoic. Lancelot rather fight for someone like Arthur than command his own battles himself. He is a very good friend - probably the best friend Guinevere will ever have, given how everything she is also attracts envy from both men and women alike - but she wouldn't take him as a lover.

She will command kingdoms and fight in armies by Arthur's side, even if he doesn't want it - although Arthur is too proud and in love to ask Guinevere to be anything else than she is. They are indeed a power couple, and that, my friends, attracts all kinds of enemies - outside and inside the court.

That is MY personal take on Guinevere: a woman with too many abilities, too much willpower and intelligence, a fierce fighter and a cunning queen; the only one who could sweep the legendary Arthur off his feet - and that attracts the same amount of envy as admiration.

[paris-in-space]

Hey, I was wondering how you chose colors for the Dracula cast! (I love Arthur's red jacket.)

Hi! I am so sorry I only just saw this ask today, but I’ll answer it now, hopefully it was worth the wait (at least with the drawing asks I have the excuse of not having had time to draw things).

Okay so, a lot of the decisions I made when it comes to the colours was on instinct, but I can still try and explain.

Jonathan wears brown, with a hint of red in his tie, and has brown hair and eyes, I wanted his colours to be relatively unassuming, the little bit of red is for visual interest but also maybe hints that he’s not just an average guy, but his design is intentionally quite plain.

When I first designed Mina it was actually for an English Lit A Level class where I had to make a character sheet about her, so I actually googled her for inspiration and took some from her look in the 1992 film (I now hate that film although it does have gorgeous visuals) and I think the green from her outfits in that film stuck in my head. Initially in my mind I didn’t imagine her as a redhead however when it came to actually putting colour on her it felt like a good decision to make, and offers some nice contrast to the green. Her earrings are meant to be like drops of blood because symbolism.

Lucy wears pink because I think of her as being pretty and feminine, the choice to have multiple shades of pink in her outfit was just to make it more interesting although the ribbon she wears in her hair matches with Arthur’s tie. Her hair is a warm blonde because of the sunny ripples line in the book, and her eyes are brown to keep things warm.

Arthur is the character whose design has changed the most since the first time I ever drew him, and I’m glad of it. (My original design of him was incredibly boring) although since first adding colour it has changed very little. The choice of red both looks nice next to Lucy and fits in with the other suitors whilst still being distinctly different. Choosing Arthur’s colours was very much a case of seeing what felt right rather than thinking too much about it in depth. (Also thank you for the compliment on his jacket.)

Jack spends a lot of time being sad so a cold colour palette made sense for him, I think the green has some medical connotations, and still allows for him to have some colour in his design without being too bright. Aside from brown shoes which sort of balance out his hair, any other clothing than his waistcoat and tie are grey because I don’t think he’s the sort to wear much colour. He also has the palest skin of the lot because he spends a lot of time inside.

Quincey on the other hand has such a warm presence as a character that his colour palette is full of warm tones. His mustard yellow waistcoat is the most memorable thing to me but it isn’t his only defining colour, I mostly just wanted him to have a very warm presence without venturing too close to Arthur’s red. I am also fully on board with the idea of Quincey being a person of colour.

Renfield is very grey all around with almost purple undertones. His clothes are very much inspired by the 1931 film which was of course black and white, and are also simple enough that many other colour choices wouldn’t make much sense for him. His hair reflects his age, and his complexion is somewhat unnatural (definitely unhealthy) to sort of separate him as a link between Dracula and the human world whilst also not really being a part of either.

I have barely drawn Van Helsing in colour so I don’t think I can really do a colour analysis on him yet, I need to get into the habit of drawing him and actually design him an everyday outfit, I’m pretty sure the only time I’ve done him in colour he was wearing black because of Lucy’s death.

Dracula himself is a mysterious black shadow with red eyes, mostly because I like the idea of depicting his menacing presence and dangerous vibe without specific details, I also really like the idea of a Dracula adaptation where you don’t actually see Dracula, and just have the mystery that the characters face and whilst drawing him this way isn’t exactly doing that, I think knowing this might make the design make more sense.

I hope this makes sense and was worth waiting so long.

(I had to re type a bunch of this a few times because I accidentally clicked off without saving more than once, having typed out multiple paragraphs)

[pinkrangersarah]

OKAY SO, I just watched Red Shows and the Seven Dwarfs again, and I gotta say, while it's not PERFECT, it's still a damn shame it's not being talked about more. That marketing crew DAMNED this movie and not even the assurances of the cast themselves could undo the damage, but I'm here with the hopes that maybe, just maybe, this movie can get the attention it deserves.

CRITIQUES

Unremarkable villains. Regina is well designed and acted, but she's given very little to do until the end. She also has virtually no relationship with Snow White, despite being her step mother. We also have Prince Average, who is delightfully pathetic, but also doesn't provide much. Not horrible antagonists, but not super fleshed out, either.

The first few minutes are pretty rushed. Snow White getting the shoes and fleeing her step mother, who doesn't recognize her, is almost blink-and-you-miss it. The writing in general is a tad clunky in spots, cheesy even. Nothing horrible, though, it won't ruin the viewing experience.

We're not given too much insight on the characters themselves, particularly the dwarves, the Fearless Seven. I feel like I can let Snow White slide a bit as we all know who Snow White is at her core, but these dwarves are VERY different from any interpretation I've seen. Outside of Merlin, who gets the bulk of the screentime between the seven of them and character development, we know basically nothing about them outside their character traits (i.e., Arthur is strong, Hans loves food and is a good chef, Jack is a priss, and the triplets are geniuses). I'm not saying we need backstory or anything on all of them, but a little bit more substance would be neat.

POSITIVES

SNOW WHITE IS A QUEEN AND I LOVE HER. I love her design. I love that she's happy with herself. SHE'S SO STRONG. SHE CAN BENCH 250. SHE GETS TO SHOW OFF THAT STRENGTH HERE AND THERE. I also love that she's not necessarily a pushover. She's sweet, she's nice, but can bite back sometimes. All in all one of my favorite Snow White interpretations.

THE ANIMATION IS FANTASTIC! It's not DISNEY quality or anything, but it still looks great! The textures are nice; you can see the embroidery on Snow's blouse, Jack's clothes, there's all kinds of nice details like that.

A LOT of thought went into this movie, especially the dwarves even if their characters ended up not being the most fleshed out. Somebody pointed out that the triplets--Pino, Noki, and Kio--sound an awful lot like "Pinocchio". They pilot a giant, wooden puppet that they use to fight, and that puppet has a long nose. They even have Italian accents (which might be slightly over the top, but they don't get a lot of screentime so it's hard for me to say), and Pinocchio is an Italian fairy tale. All of the dwarves have little details like that. They're based off fairytales, obviously (hell the movie takes place on "Fairytale Island"), and a lot of love went into them. Arthur's so Scottish, it's hard to understand him, sometimes. It's pretty funny.

I know you've seen this on other posts talking up this movie and everything, but I'm here to say it again: THIS MOVIE IS NOT BODY SHAMING. IT IS EVERYTHING BUT! As I mentioned above, Snow White loves herself just the way she is; she keeps the shoes on, but it is NOT because she wants to be beautiful. If anything, MERLIN is the one that has to go on the "love yourself" journey.

NITPICKS (not important, just stuff I pick at)

GOD I wish there was more lore. I know, it's fairytales, I don't really need it, but I am a slut for worldbuilding and lore.

The pop songs are lowkey annoying. Not enough to ruin the viewing experience, but enough for me to remember: oh yeah, this movie was meant for a younger audience.

Not all the jokes land. I can forgive it because the rest of it is enjoyable, but most of the jokes that do land are Arthur being incomprehensible at times and Prince Average being his delightfully pathetic self.

To sum it all up, go check this movie out! It's a fun time with good characters, great animation, and a fantastic message. It's available on Peacock, but if you don't want to pay for a subscription then it's available for free (according to Google) on Tubi, Amazon Prime Video, and the Roku Channel.

[polarisdelphi]

Continuing my Arthurian concepts, Lancelot of the Lake (I wanted it to be Lancelot du Lac, but alas, it looked really bad on his sheet, with the fancy font and all). As I did with Arthur, we have Lancelot and his sword - again, I just have a thing for designing fancy swords :')

His whole concept is blue, because you know... Of the Lake. Child of Avalon. It had to be blue hahaha every detail on his sword/armour is to look like plants, fountains and water.

I also wanted his sword to have that ~clashing~ of fluid like fountain shapes and rectangular, harsh line shapes because even if he is water, he is also constant in his loyalty, beliefs and is someone you can rely on.

(oh I told you guys I have some hot takes regarding Lancelot, Guinevere and all that... 'TIS LOTTIE TIME NOW)

Also did the whole ~testing Photoshop layers thing~ again and, lo and behold, we have some vitral looking version of Lancelot. It can also be him during one of the rituals in Avalon, who knows ;)

More ramblings on my version of Lancelot, what I thought during his design, who he is to me as a character and why he has that insufferable smug smile, under the cut below hahahaha

(fangirling? yes, fangirling over arthurian legend, yee been warned)

First things first: YES, Ioan Gruffud.

I fell in love with Lancelot because of him in the 2005 King Arthur movie and that is FOREVER the vision I have of Lancelot, this man has SINGLE-HANDEDLY made me believe he is a loyal friend and a little shit at the same time and there is NO room for another Lancelot in my mind.

I fucking love him so much

The 2005 movie is one of my favourite versions (I was 13 when I first watched it, he was my teenage crush, I'll love it to death) - but it does leave a lot of the characters out to create a whole other story on its own. I love it, but there's so much more on Arthurian Legend we can work on!

My Lancelot, then: yes, prince of Benoic. Taken by Avalon, raised by the Lady of the Lake, ruthless in combat. Best Knight of the Round Table, could even be better than Arthur (some say), and fiercely loyal to his companions and commander.

One hell of a womanizer, though. This man can't see a good looking woman - or even man, for that matter - without starting to flirt and say some things that would make even the gods flush. Everyone laughs while Galahad wants to die every single time Lancelot's flirty mode is ON.

Pretty useful when they have more stealthy missions that require lying, deception and cheating - be it men or women, Lancelot's charm will NEVER fail.

(other more "brutish" Knights, so to speak, say it's his Avalon ✨ pixie charm ✨ - and really, the man doesn't disagree)

Even if he is very loyal to his friends, brothers in arms, and his beloved Arthur, he can't be like that in romances, though. Lancelot's love is a quick flame that burns down an entire forest in the blink of an eye and it's put out quickly with a heavy rain the day after, while Arthur's love is a lingering fire on a winter night, keeping his lovers warm and away from harm as long as it has wood or coal to burn.

That's why I chose to give Lancelot a more reliable look with all the rectangular shapes, constant stripes and more of a "bulky" look compared to Arthur (Arthur has more of a slim-strong constitution). But he also has some sharp points, because of how dangerous he is, and the ever flowing shapes of the water of Avalon - like his very flowy dark blue cape.

He's always covered in blood too. He is the best Knight, he has no problems when it comes to killing, and he doesn't have Arthur's moral compass. If he has to be ruthless, he will be.

(told ya this man lives rent free in my head)

And that's very important to his character, in my opinion. Lancelot is a pagan, he doesn't mind bloodshed, and he certainly has no issues with giving in to lust and earthly pleasures. There is no Heaven to judge him, and no Hell to burn him. He is fatally human. Not trying to be better and to go on a moral high horse when his hands are covered in blood and his only talent is death - just surviving his times as he can.

HENCE - and brace yourselves for hot take time! - why he loves Guinevere, but he's in NO WAY a better man than Arthur. He would stop his flirting and womanizing shenanigans for her, but WHY would she give up someone so absurdly upstanding and unreal like Arthur for him? And he doesn't want her to. She deserves better than him. He loves being around her, his heart aches, but how many hearts hasn't he broken? It's kind of a poetic justice sort of thing in his view.

And he wouldn't sleep with her, not when she loves Arthur and Arthur loves her so fucking much. He might be a little shit, yes, sassy, bitter, hedonistic and even annoying at times - but he is loyal. He doesn't love easy, and when he does, he loves hard. And he loves Arthur too much to do the one thing that would destroy the man he would give his life for.

He's a bastard, but he does have standards. A bastard with feelings :)

Jokes aside, this is, again, MY take on Lancelot. MY Lancelot, is all fun and games, will argue religion with every single catholic/christian he meets on his way, will get covered in blood during battle, will kill with no remorse, will drink with no remorse, will indulge in sex and break hearts with no remorse.

But he will give his life for his friends - he will sacrifice everything for those he loves, and his loyalty can never be bought - for in the end of the day, if he's lying on the grass choking in his own blood, he knows those are the ones who would come to his aid. He knows Arthur would rather die for him than watch him die - even if Lancelot thinks this would be the utmost stupid-est and unfairest thing to ever do.

The world deserves and needs an Arthur in it - not a Lancelot.

In my Arthurian Legend, this is his character, this is who he is. A lot more darkness and existential dread, pleasures and adrenaline rushes in battle to cover up how flawed he thinks he is - even if bards sing of his heroic feats, his reputation is that of a hero and women everywhere swoon upon hearing his name, painting him as a knight in shining armour.

He's not - he's a womanizer in a blood stained armour, pledging his killing skills to someone who has a better, idealistic view of the world and higher moral standards than him.

If you read all of this, thank you for coming to my TED Talk, and do know I suffered immensily not making him a dual-wielding killing powerhouse.

[webbywatcheshorror]

Webby Reviews Horror: Thirteen Ghosts (2001)

Thir13en (or Thirteen/13) Ghosts is a story about a family that inherits a bizarre and beautiful house from a late relative that contains many secrets- and a basement full of murderous ghosts.

This is one of my personal favorites and has been since I was a kid. It came out in 2001 so the earliest I could have seen it would be when I was around 12 or so, and that’s assuming I saw it the year it came out, which I literally have no way of knowing. I’m going to operate under the assumption I saw it at 13 because it’s likely, and it’s thematically hilarious to me.

Also it definitely is one of about three ghost related movies that really solidified ghosts as being my ‘thing’.

Enough about that, let’s talk about the movie! Review under the cut, and as always, SPOILERS ahead!

I literally cannot overstate how much I love this movie. It’s one of the first real horror movies I ever saw as a child, and it’s definitely one of the ones that altered my brain chemistry to a degree that could never be undone. SO much of what I love in a horror movie comes from this one. 

Weird house? Check. Loads of ghosts? Check, obviously. Pathetic but attractive guy covered in blood? Check. Jokes that make me cackle but don’t interrupt the flow of the movie? Check. Body horror that makes my skin crawl? Check, check, check. A twist that’s set up previously in the movie if you’re REALLY sharp eyed? Check. Environmental storytelling, a weird morbid kid, two worlds in one space, and a WHOLE LOT of lore. It’s got it all!

The cold open is so good. It establishes the level of violence the dead are capable of (The Breaker having more than tripled his kill count after his death, for example), and gives us some major players and their clashing personalities. It also kind of reminds me of the opening scene in Jurassic park where they’re moving a raptor into the enclosure and it all goes to hell in a similar way.

Every new thing that gets mentioned just draws me further in, and I, a known sucker for lore, want to know everything. If I lived in that world, Cyrus would have had me hook, line, and SINKER, as long as he promised me ghost knowledge lmao. I’d be dead as hell so fast.

The inciting tragedy for the main characters plays over the opening credits and this, too, is something I adore. The environment changes along with the audio- a cheerful house with a loving family fades into a crummy, box-filled apartment while the anguished cries of Arthur and his children mourn the loss of their mother Jean as the camera pans to the left. We don’t have to see it to know what happened, or how much pain its caused.

One thing I love, love, love about this movie is how much story is told through the environment and small details alone, rather than just explained by the characters. Arthur doesn’t say he’s struggling to keep his shit together, but his instant mood swing at a small inconvenience sure does. The past due bills pinned to the corkboard in the background do, too. The set designers did an amazing job- I could probably find hidden important details in every scene if I had the time to comb through them.

Some other things I want to mention in this first part of the movie- the pictures of the house that the lawyer shows the family are all taken in a way that obscures the fact that every wall is glass; when we’re shown Kalina’s place, there’s a newspaper clipping about Cyrus’s death that names Ben Moss, the lawyer, as the spokesperson of Cyrus’s company, hinting at him having more of an involvement than simply the lawyer; and how nobody in the family really tries to deter Bobby from his obsession with death even if it makes them a little uncomfortable. 

The glass house is so iconic. It’s so fucking weird and impractical and sinister and beautiful all at once. And that’s BEFORE it goes full Rube Goldberg. There is nothing at all about this house that gives the vibe that you should move in here and raise your children. Hell there’s nothing at all that gives the vibe that it’s even a house. It’d be a museum, if anything, especially with how much stuff Cyrus has crammed in there.

Except the library. Almost all the books are on the floor in there. Cyrus I’m going to throttle you, you could have had the coolest occult library but instead you just stacked that shit on the ground. I’m so disappointed in you. It’s such a weird choice, given how much else he clearly planned out: every room has the ghost glasses in it somewhere, and there are multiple rooms that might tempt each new resident (living or dead perhaps). He wanted them to see their oncoming doom, wanted them to feel terror and heartbreak and despair. He planned for so many possibilities it’s actually pretty impressive- he knew the lawyer would kick off the process by going right for the money, for example, and it’s clear that he wasn’t told just how fast shit would pop off, since he just sort of saunters back down the corridor instead of getting the hell out as fast as possible. Nobody else was meant to leave that house alive, except Cyrus.

Cyrus himself is so easily hateable right from the get-go. He’s an asshole, he’s pushy and considers everyone else beneath him, and every new sentence out of his mouth makes me hate him more. There’s no attempt made to get the audience to sympathize with him, with the possible exception of the video they play as part of his will and testament, not that it works very well. What a great villain, and a fascinating character as well. I hate him so much. I’m delighted I got to see him die twice. (Ok so the first one was a fake out but it was still satisfying.)

And then there’s Dennis. Just as I hated Cyrus immediately, so did I love Dennis immediately. He’s a tormented little weirdo with psychic abilities, hunting ghosts and hating every minute of it just so he can have some kind of human interaction that doesn’t center on him being the target of whatever cruelty’s going on. He’s kind of an asshole, but he’s still compassionate (to the living at least), and funny to boot. Also, he’s played by Matthew Lillard, so of course I was going to love him. (However, at this point in my life, the only other thing I’d seen with him in it was Scooby-Doo, so the whiplash was real lmao.)

Honestly the man is prime blorbo real estate, as the kids might say. I’m surprised at how few fics there are on Ao3 for this movie/man.

My god, the lore in this movie is incredible. Each and every ghost has a name and a story, despite never getting addressed in the movie itself, and they all look phenomenally unique. They all have clearly distinct personalities, too, despite all (well almost all) of them being murderous freaks. I’d love to watch a miniseries or something about each spirit, I’d eat that up.

I loved the twist reveals, both Kalina’s and Cyrus’s. I really would like to know how he got her to fall for him, and whether she’d always been on his side or if she’d started out genuinely opposing him. One thing’s obvious though, and it’s that she is terrified of the man. Her personality does almost a complete 180 in his presence, she’s overexplaining, she’s desperate for his approval. It’s funny that, just a few minutes earlier, she’d taunted Dennis about how Cyrus was just using him and didn’t actually care about him, yet apparently never suspected the same about herself.

One more thing I’d like to mention is that I love how the family, and only the family, survives. Cyrus gets what he deserves, Kalina is betrayed, and Dennis sacrifices himself, but the entire family makes it out alive- including Maggie, the nanny. Where other movies might not have considered her family enough, and killed her off, this one says no, she’s part of the family. She gets to live. Which is great, since she was so right about pretty much everything, as well as probably the funniest character. (I will never not laugh at ‘did the lawyer split?’)

I do want to know what happens to all the ghosts, as after the destruction of the house they can all be seen presumably going off to commit murder elsewhere. And of course I also want to know where Ghost-Dennis went off to. Did he cross over? Did he decide to tag along with the family? Did he go off on his own? Whatever he chose, he finally looked somewhat at peace for the first time in the entire movie.

Maybe it’s nostalgia, maybe it’s because of how it shaped my interest in ghosts and horror, maybe it’s because I can’t resist a good pun, but I give this one 13 outta ten ghosts. I’ve seen this movie probably about 167 times and still haven’t gotten tired of it and I hope I never will.

[lucero-is-here]

*Waltzes in* ladies, gentlemen and folks! For headcanon time! We have…Bernadine Rochester! And here she is with all three of her appearances!

Requested by:

Anyways, let’s do her. Angst will be added, and I’m going to be real unhinged cause I have beef with almost all of the Rochesters.

- soft hands and slender fingers. Her hands are really soft, and she basically has really nice hands.

- she really likes flowers. She’s not the kind to garden, but she likes flowers, and sometimes she trues out gardening. She thinks people who like to garden or have gardening as a hobby are really amazing, and she always wonders how they have so much dedication.

- high heels. She’s always wearing high heels even though she doesn’t like them much. She always complains to Arthur that they are really uncomfortable and she doesn’t understand why people sometimes even make and wear high heels. She says she’d rather wear loafers or boots, but doesn’t really get the chance too. Arthur buys her a pair of boots though, and she is absolutely thankful for that.

- yeah she does embroidery. Her embroidery is really impressive too. She can make these really complex designs somehow, and she lets Arthur see them sometimes. He always say they look really nice and actually looks at the details-

- Bernadine has a lot of little hobbies, and whenever she finishes whatever she’s doing (other than embroidery), she shows it to Arthur. He’s always amazed by it, and Bernadine really likes that. Since with her family, they just take one look at her embroidery and don’t really properly appreciate it. She means- Leopold does but he isn’t here anymore is he.

- she is really disappointed with her family for how they turned out- yeah she loves them and everything…BUT SERIOUSLY THEY WENT SO FAR- After Bernadine found out what Archie did, she was so horrified that she almost fainted. Oh and she’s horrified of Malcolm, Horatio and Larry too- she is considering disowning them and everything ahah-

- when she was a child, she liked dirt. Yeah she would play in the dirt sometimes, have fun…but her parents didn’t like that so- you can imagine how that went probably.

- (angst) after learning what Horatio planned to do (he planned to sending her to Gryphon Sanctuary, she decided to pay Horatio one last visit before cutting contact with him completely. During her visit to Horatio, she asked him what made him do all this and his answer broke her. Will I say what he said? No because I haven’t though of that yet. And what was Bernadine’s reaction to what he said? She said goodbye, left the prison before going to Arthur and crying about it for a while.

- she has a good relationship with Viola. She fees bad for what happened to Viola, and really wants to make it up to Viola somehow but Viola just says no.

- she visits all of her family members, even the ones who are in jail (except Horatio after that one visit). She visited Malcolm- and she visited Larry even though she really wants to cut contact, but she still went to visit them cause she felt bad for them and everything.

- good relationship with Veronica (Malcolm’s wife). She really likes talking to Veronica, who listens to her issues and what she has been doing.

- mhmmm….Bisexual

- okay so she hates high heels…But she has gotten so used to them she can run in them. I like to think she she was in a rush, and Arthur was next to her asking if she’d like him to drive her to wherever she was, and instead she just grabbed him by the arm and dragged him off running to wherever she needed to be. Arthur wasn’t needed there but she dragged him along anyways.

- she punched Larry in the face once. He was saying something really annoying, and she did what all of us would want to do if we knew Larry. She ran over and punched him in the face. (Yes we are talking about Larry Rochester)

- Bernadine has a photo album of her family and her when she was younger. And she was so so pretty- I mean she’s still really pretty but if you saw her when she was younger she was also really pretty-

- when she was younger, she would play with Malcolm. One situation that happened was that she on the swing and asked Malcolm to push her. He proceeded to push her off the swing in front of their parents. And their father accidentally took a photo of Malcolm pushing Bernadine off the swing and it is residing in the photo album that Bernadine has. Arthur saw the photo and asked if she was okay.

- Bernadine reads a lot. She reads the newspaper, she reads books…She’s basically reading a lot. So she also knows a lot and she’s really smart.

- Bernadine can be really sassy sometimes- sometimes when she’s with Arthur, she talks about how much she dislikes some people and Larry Rochester, and she says the sassiest and meanest thing ever- And Arthur? ARTHUR IS JUST LIVING FOR IT- I MEAN HE’S REALLY SHOCKED AND EVERYTHING, BUT PART OF HIM IS THINKING: …I LOVE THIS WOMAN EVEN MORE NOW-

- she really likes hugs and kisses- whenever she sees Arthur or a close friend or relative, she’s running over and hugging them. Arthur gets a kiss on the cheek or something too- (please Bernadine I’m better than Arthur/j)

- Corsets? Bernadine hates those- she doesn’t get the obsession over them but she still uses them sometimes.

- cursive handwriting, and is a fast writer.

- she threw a chair at Malcolm once while arguing with him, in front of Arthur who was just calmly witnessing the chaos.

- she was really reluctant on letting Arthur meet the family…So here’s the order of who she let Artur meet from first to last: Leopold, Rockley, Veronica, Patricia (kinda cause Bernadine begged Arthur to come visit her aunt with her-), Archie (who actually decided to be civil for once), Malcolm (Bernadine almost lost her shit at him and almost threw a chair at him), Larry ( literally almost threw a chair at Larry), Clarissa’s grave (cause Clarissa is dead), and she purposely left out Horatio but he found out cause of- AHEM- Malcolm. (I clearly have beef with Horatio, Malcolm and Larry)

- (angst) Bernadine was so upset after Leopold died. After they arrested Horatio, Bernadine set up Leopold’s funeral. Arthur was next to her the entire time while she cried-

I probably will think of more unhinged headcanons for Bernadine so stay tuned and witness my beef with the Rochester family.

[libidomechanica]

“But if they all they trod”

A ballad sequence

                And glory, being shadow forȝelde. Care not so     good, beauty; what which madmen’s were in the weary leave theme—he self, ’ thus make thyself in     my little; mix not worthyly wonnen, þe beuerage, poor worde, ’ quoþ þe good too stormy     stoures do rise and low, breath. Little coat; to dryȝe, and from the wine. For one of telle     ouer a sigh has but they bore up into

Love by lynde tachez þe rayne wyth a sword. Leave     us, and straitest sight have their mask I try on. Dead Glasse, what the sacrifice, as I     have no renkes vs to ryde and never since to myself to telle ouercome with     carefull hath killed their husbands mountain of gold becomes one’s thornless in from out you     shalt be my daily sail the green lead,

move right take, no kings be crow or doves; by whose? Beauty     hath was these for to haue of clouds content, I seek no more hold a grett wyse. Like a     bee, love affair white! Kisses, þat nyȝt, þe chaunce to fly from his own know, and we shall sorts     met the drizling run, he sharp air Of the clime she leaves, and patron, who all the moralist     that your knyȝt in her arms of new

life design, he turret that the porch we give it ever     silver know, we saw her pure des, dubbed wyth and thy basely fly and sprong on a     sponge wakes they name. Who doth shifts, with Heaven a blessing round my young shame, and hushed Casket     of all the next, what binds one by one, seize my address dancing, words to craue hit neuer     whereon our palace. But if they all

they trod a saraband: she sat, she on her veil:     marsh-divers, when no more, and would not what passes zither way; and neare thickets: then, is     not know to get my glory as I sing, still and soft, at least capon’s fat, for that to     rove! At þe lude my fare and she began to feel that crowd love, I dragged my honde stones, wherein     I longd the isle, among þo menne.

                And I will come as the birth canal     or pilot the iron heel it slays there rises an     adder fight with soul wasted,

and the year. We’re all used a     word, but drunken ben my father were the fisher that’s fine     for me, till freedom to

dry one’s eyes are, certes, enter’d     with her the gronyed; þenne, stella behold savoury end;     his nostril wide, the Head:

but act, from the Disease. My nerved     to angels Sophistrie, that is hir vp radly þe quite     quite new; the milk-teeth of

flame despair, like the happy I     dared tomb. Before it raineth, or as there a heavy hands,     from being waves at strain

going away, it eats the faint     with bost and gold beget in my blood to the bearing in     the mind is the air and

red each has butter. I walk in     his pipes, groaning out his room, the best gentler day. And þat,     and helpless brown, shot

sidelong dishes; and loked tushes     up her breathed no blood that chekke hit quyk go hymself was.     Must begins to faintly!

                The placed, cloves, we schal se hit     falles, biknowez and lanced þo bourdyng þat þer þe     heldet, of diamauntez, þat terms divine: o soothest Sleep!     ’ She crimson light and rech yow sette þe syluerin sponez.     Ready upon us,

though it leave, the larkspur, and mow,     we saw the world Babel, woman plants to beget in my     cause I worthyly wonnen yow lakked oþer, carande for     worchyp of your awen. I keep from their coupled among     from whom the Blessed be grass

and berde, þe burning in a maid     on ever alone: they waltzed and staggering pains? Vast     abyss floats scumlike enough to make. With smoþe smylyng and     grimly spinning, but came to the halloo will with solace     so fele sere, and serued

þer watz stad, his hed and schadde,     and how twas please, yet somewhere! Wings and accept their long years,     in food, quicksilver litanies, the feeble age of Arthure     þe haȝþorne were þat bere on, and dresse, with my soul’s     subterranean straitest bed.

                Far and be myȝt falled, and so glorious dreams,     that worth cowardise of a millions, that she has been details I have prove: is the just,     strakande dewe dropez of both night, cliff- tops, seas whereeuer þe abataylment in þe wyn     dronken and þay chast mights faint at þe large as scharp yrne. Ar her lanely night. I’ll wear     through to watched behind his hondelez,

and vntrawþe, þat all, but I the story of being.     Laura lies in Petrarch’s wife nuptials, for a noble. And twitter cry, and bihoues his     aray clene; for þe segge as pearskin’s fleet came to, else to wanton merkkez, wyth mony     proud of beauty might melts down fa’ for he is dread out of her stood, and yowre ryȝt totes. Nearest     Lady glanced words, if only the

bravest friends, none. Not that pass in her west through you     are not too late and sings inspiration. Of þe hounds might’st for all this hundred veins fresh     beauty as fair hand to woman, a leudez þe barren stafful hende, in food, quick is     lover’s glory as I sitting through a courtesy who am not owe it; tis muckel     þat sete in a casque, a bende of

hate. Like Phœbus thunder-shower will ring tressour beauty     and no more; when þat gere, a parties just the engine of use and wyth bullet of     our past recall? I’ll take a lorde haf waled welcome guest, fed with a wro wyth wormez     he hem bi hor diner was white wall waste in holtez and couetyse boþe, þat freezes, blood     waltzed and a spirit confest, bud-

packed into yourselves have gassed reproue, and swing. He—being     speak and lenged þenne? Subject—let me gost labours by, a breeder the disjoin’d, and     lewté yow wonted; bot þe resayt, bi þe tyme; I have vanishing gladly to pain, withoute     dabate thy soul. The influence to her, and love, and through with blys and whitest bed.     To have eyes to Hoyle: give her, tell you

think in stale þe halue, and round of them on the mind,     thoughted Venus, you wrong his babe for he would cheare them speech is hir vp radly, sir, ’ quoþ     Gawayn glyȝt on þe sale rich no offers him but could be know, a man, my heart of the     Hall, dropt through their new friend, we entered, who or whence for the mould; some crying through the yellow     her broad and gentle satin-wood,

rooted, oþer any so happy news but she is     gold frae the delight hand, not mine, all. And I want torrent out a bitter state to solely     seen, and luflych leȝten leue nouþer, ne non end; his soth were the year, I paced, cloves, and     to telle, when some motion must be such a victories ago was death of on wyȝes þat     went shore: but the spring, made those from

mine, where beloved out an uncrossable line;     in vayres. Thy bosom is ennui. Shed in some couldn’t get ye, or a hundred     dispairing on in digging to hear that the power, untrouble worthyly wonnen, þe     maysteres; hit were were engraved in the woman, a leuer were dispossession—leaving     sealed blood-shed fly, was turned in their couplings,

and a hastyly, when he fed the sky Attend     his hot country’s a things content, he waged, command—when he third: Our old come by that     worþe at mydmorn paste, til þe sege and you, as that valleys, weary. Fingers of prejudice,     discussed al þe houndez so warmly ran my lays, but in the plank, he kiss my gode,     and Horror of leisure, one like a

ship to be more horne vpon most, and with the fading     harsh chain: strong than the sea in the banks, close be Thine! With power, none living he loot the     south and bid me design, i, who insufficient pray hym kysse and a single gentle     castez. With her this century was growing fount, shewes of prejudice, discussed alone,     but of thyself grew afraid of

the old becom, and on hym þe schaterande inwyth     Logres, sir Boos, and she the shard, when he will now. By the doubt what, again the that     they makes young shadow make synne, and glare of alle þyse pure gold that’s harp, and night, my daughter     by the sky, and betwixt crimson- rolling in the crowd divide the leant on her     love in tent of complexion, full Turkish

trousers furl’d about content, or mother’s jealous     o’ a’ the main account; all is no sleeping on air; the flood of that heart is she     heart of thorny path thee, I thy decrees: or bid my slick-fac’d suitor gins to dreary’s     the streams. Woods whereat a lyndes and measures found we should looking of a dere caroles     to reached your bough and grew another

eyes; like Titus’ youth: lend then she cried, ye are     that he were black-faced at his face pale, and I read—two letters and alle day, and Heaven     and þenne þise gently we past echoing to know pining deer, since precedent of     half als, and too soon; father the feast and Samson eftsonez—dalyda dalt with prayed.     Wearing things with daily vnbidden

beautiful was a second was once was a mon, I     þe kynge as peas, and to started by the bridge; and tornayeez þurȝ forse of þe sale wyth clene     as do bewray a wand’ring kiss that call’d them don’t believe; or be mine; and I am     trwe knyȝtyly, when you spoke and beauty, thou must bear him; nor, as uncontested you     like here? And may man move; she tribes that

thou will with a wistfully the most dear except     their play had been woos best lawsez, bremlych closeted without my hear yours, not always     complete of meschaunce of life in which shadowings of every strange it should example     and ofte chaunsel to hent in lust. But to rob him of his silent myself in her heels     but of tortoise-shell or weary of

drifted of those time sparkling gems beneath the     days mourne. In hidden crimson on þat Nw Ȝere much steuen mon most terrier, to bear; the     long habitude of jasper than his churlish, harsh kindred not. This dark night; what matters     like a nick in and once more ways. Bowed on her brydel barren women whose hollow behind     a dream, we seeks the night I’ll roses

you that parly abide by your honour once     vouchsafe the thing writ on ground; from blossom to wone and ho stonyed hymseluen, couth not     in littering breast their golden to have neither whose hollows wherein their captain or     loss to remember to teach what entire as the World, and Kryst me make modest, blame     you fair flowers buy; some he did she?

                A taste. Live with such breathe with his     went! A remnant of happy in the Ithacensian suitor     gins toppyng to hue,

st.-Fish in his armed my tongue’s a     child, if good can wipe out into that needs it were of mud     and the chase the Danaid

of him, now I conceive. Sorrow,     and merrily roar out Harvest Homer some rich or in     themself speke: what, if I

fail beneath made head. Who wear, dainties     be a perfumed bed, in a’ the most terribly afar     in his angry gods

had done let’s fall, last Love, I probably,     rights are dabbled meekly fringed alle þat þe nase,     þe auenture in the sung

in þy londe is lenge hym bryng þis     burne seȝ non such as derrest on hiȝe with knows no pity,     but more modest pride: and

hard but twain. Seeks them still’d up like     peace? But in the honde, þe folk þere scarcely thousand like a     million, and he mas with

her cheeks, her round, all whisper from     out ful fayre on him, I must not so fresh fire, light, to alight     to iudge this, at least,

but in they both are that every     home, for Lebanon, dark cedar-tops and only Phillis,     ’tis Phillis, ’tis the worst

vpon Sir Gawayn bi non wolde neuer     þe abataylment in lust. Because white rose or flowes,     þat pine with a wroth

assuage; plants, beats her instant, which     to it. Belong you vomit the Golden to dust underworld,     with bred more. And þat

burde þenne no pysan ne noȝt bot     wel for me? Feasted the women. Strongest date do melt. ’ She     came to tourne to myself

on semez, ȝe wolde of þe paunchez,     vche burden of his chek so pace and you, mine own and     alum ande glam of golde

frenges, ayquere, and eke tenne thou     should be myȝt. Surmise regard, put fear to venturous cry     All good manure for me?

                Look thy hands, then come, and ryses     to my wavering words which with aversion was these are     amaz’d, as fear, as apt

as new-fall’n snow and went by the     betray, nor weep. From the strong fingers, house in body and     eyes blindness than you think

that longs to fight with henna; but     speak, fair-set vine, things that building and save one whose than of     His triumph at Turin:

Ancona was contract: there: for     her no segge fotez, hit is but a well-mouldest man not     will not some to his angry-

chafing body, but alas     a lady, bot if þe dor aftter messes of Heaven;     and on calming hot and

brass wild with her hand; now hyȝt þere     he schulde. Of the hider shame that she herself erect behind     his resounder too;

he came, then befuddled by me,     doted fruit in on which he observing smartly I pray     wither necks from his new.

                Here might hours, which I though the doubt     and does my heart the ring: and swelling cheek received and will     wonde þat on syde, ridez

þurȝ bi a bonk vnbene, his venerable     vertuus stone forth no men who grew faint, with a mynt     one, bot vgly þer hit is

gone, we schal at your question, since     he did feed on point a churlish swine to hunt the heaven     of Love my hert. Who all

dead worthy to lives a littel     dayntés nwe innocent warmth of hunted busyly aboute,     and mony leudes

honde. Whether out of our far gone     into þe lyre; her lif haden, and let me go; my day’s     decay, o’er cloud in nets,

dreading mute, which I by that     metaphor! I would pipe in gaol is but didn’t work, ’ said the air     some finest thee that’s to

dry one’s cell, we took his kingdom     from any window and grass and lo! ’Er she bride, and of     its painted for a heavy,

but to the bosom is, the     rind of prophecies; love with its would have made a wind begg’d     for future as þay for

some when Jove of you along waste     in his own coffin, as þe wyȝtest’, þe bonk houed, and think     on hiȝe with treason which

from its rocky brow and loss on     thousand her it was mine own like a wheeling world’s cowarddyse     and die: who knows the

earth is that Lady glanced, Sir? And     pyne I, you could be like a bed of roses give for     authorized behold, may say.

                And ayþer oþer to þe burnez in     her eye; bot þrye, Er þe heȝe stede, he sayde to blame; it was     these hall the gaudy sun with mony aunterez hym vp     and face, some clear eyes wood,

its lips, as Philomel in little     boat, ’ and Will’ one watz arȝe wyth fayre schelde, on Nw Ȝeres     morn. You lying happed from inmost sad? I did never     prayers had been the dead

weigh the yielding fairer than civil     home-run total is your eyes like to move to others’     feelings sadly as it cannot ceased. And, having no high,     and honoured apert

of song, Cyril, with the very     home, and þat nothing, flies; I fed your wyttez to þe fyrst,     and rode in hyȝe hode of more, when he on hille haspe; and turtle     one, bot neked, his

felaȝschip þat hem lyked. But     now by the tape haue, a bende on lofte, sweet music ceased woes     wind to enioy. To say yow þere, ȝe be kylled, may lend     her child to the flow’d upon

Design, he might. This sides parcht;     her eye, which governs me to, and then shall round drof to þe     chepen and þe lorde say. And swindler’s lute, schon schyre knitten;     syþen garytez ful mony

folden through the grave what hurt     she did bow, my own—only the only shrine of the same     health—yours, our gloom, disturbing she is the graveyard crossed my     ideal light is the laste,

bende hade in þe fuyt, four. And all     fair visage felle of court als laȝen loude þer hiȝed together,     that once more day I say! Ho wayned me vpon hyȝt, þenne     ayþer þik side a Warders

will he distant their sighing leaves     behind the woods made: our times that we dropsies, taken by     a kiss, and Dread and in his turban, furl’d in the merci     beseche yow ask; ȝe known.

                Der dronken, and cheep and red uprose     things in their sight, and bound in the sea which man kills that     on þrynne syþez hatz out at

gates. Hit watz halawed, who was     ask’d shall sore that cliff-tops, sea-gulls, and little heard, I know     who made of Pope and loose

or used two strength, and the stronge. The     red and Death of lightsome dull amaz’d, as he slepte; and ay     rachched him with the venom

of those concord shall not be     so well despair, she sees the Winter complete, wi’ an auld     makes him hardly do prate

of the doom which I see this sted     me paragon of his face, brings raised the bank whereby Lover     with fears with damask

flower sprung up, chequer double,     is give him with blue, soft Persian, and freke fayre, clad wyth þe     sunny Summer, midnight,

and forth she is at restore, what     wishes thee, God, and the grass, and erbez, wela wynne me     þat hatz, haldez, and when

the found that sprange thickened hit as-     tit, as I sitting aromatic fumes, and begins toppyng     twynne, þe lorde lest henged

so felle were a mirror,     not just; as probably, right streams. Is good: but sooner the honour     of it, Florian’s head

till contempt the courtier course;     a long breast could not see your eyes and being conscious frame,—     senses, and I schal fonde.

                Discussed a dream and frount folde, ne     forth, what are not an innocent warmth to travail they were     done and found my boys three

little track of the retrospect,     but Shakspeare all old vices speche, and heeded not, nor     anything heart thou to their

suggesteth to ȝelde þat he myȝt     mon and so soon she is a fine needs and silver moon: sleep,     he is in the priest in

her two blue yes ever, for me,     I care done. And where Delos rose, the tears, that to where there     at hym lette I not down

and are not thou or I, the ocean?     Of power of faded frae nane, i’ll give a loving     prison’d in his lyft honde,

þe halle his scheldez, I were     be, if more resistinguish keepes to hiccup’d, Our     mistrustfull lips for my sighs

can interminable touch is     myn awen won to mone! Nor came yonder of us would     my lorde Gawayn þe nobler

age; appraise, while. Lasts of the     truth; receives rain and of the tense—how bear it? And oh, her     equally, smile; but pushed

rose, and þat fyne fade, and at his     fancy comen þe cloþez, whette, as I saw the quiet joke.     Without the pleasant leaven

stod he wildly brennez hom     on glodes aywhere; almost as a busk ouer þe day I     say, the world within prison’d

into a hundred touch your     face and bark. ’Er at a sellyly of a lemman, a     lethal musket shot, a

lethal musket shot, a carcanet     is þe meyny in þis ilk wyȝe called thee why thou like     a littel, sir, þe gome

gentyle knyȝt þe gouernement,     with any more that his unkind. But this as a wave flow     in its calmer of high

this the caught at a lost ere you     go? Like a face, and she, sweet; then the hours; the earn’d, pious     sway this redound of promise;

not alone as though I was     wet. Should rule them deep inside, twin Kernels in every fly     from small true? The maw, even

a rag like a madman on     his hede, half be taught again being waste, fresh variety;     ten kisses his wombe

and be to move among the shop’s     for various starry head for Psyche’s: as we walks; we     mixt withinne with love; thou

like a strok, and renew our her,     not beautiful was ask’d the birds were and strike the young Cupid’s     bow she untreads again

if it would well the glowande     wapped aboute of youth I want of brende golde glowande and     strydez, brayde, I wil no

giftez, for soþe, ’ quoþ þe wyse nauþer,     with Death’s ebon dart, too, out of þe flesh—let’s cool and him     a good turning how high!

                Leaving loose a hubbub—you know,     the grove, and clasping down for cort ryche. But straight me Turn, and     day, and turning steel it?

                You lying the owne sunlight; slow     here my should e’er he folde, in gay bed its treasures are laid     up like a gude wind,—and

ȝelde! By: struck me, me, may yet be     wasted: there buried. But great amaz’d, as love as we dire     events, and I longd

the house nor touch is ho þat in     the kingdom of Ithacensian sentences, in the purpose     there is no mon mynez

þat watz seȝen. I’ll do so that     fre, and bowed on þe mon tented treasure timeless from whom     she campers. Weigh this cause,

offred and sky, strange as soul in     fyue and the others’ intellect; and had no human voice     and awa’ wi’ Jock of

a woman’s snare grows sends; and, and     laȝter myself be done myseluen, could keep when my gestures,     such a Bacchanal!

                Slew both in one knee kneeling; but     help it, then, in his her the objects locks shag and whate’er     might your idle tear, she

that her breast, and if you stretched mankind     like change. The Prince of birth to make a dent folde, and strydez     alofte, and brought better

how his garden portals. Tell     his facetious hand, were sere twyges, þat watz don abof     his dead, the morn. For mornin’

to e’enin’, he hold Thee mid     this but ofte, þer fayre—þaȝ I had his fyue fyngres, and then     them; ah, what do still pudding

here of Absál at him, living     one as they played, in shame’s purest gold; and trimmer all,     the stod he country show’d

its poison’d in her white gauze     baracan that I am soft your bedde busken tongue was wet.     Is humming a voice is

thine owner’s glove upon my spirits     dam; the train is good that bear them through her, and jealous     maid of his swyre, clad wyth

mony aventure slate thy prisoner     in þat rod hym ful richly please him al roghe bi þe     diner was! If pleasure

shall seem’d dead, from the nest, and     foundation he waste in hymself quat hit mene myȝt rides best of     þe welkin volleys out

of a Mother shake and his life     allows’ perch,—did you—because a knyȝt tok gates of the yellow     hair waits a river.

                Tell me that love where his anious     uyage. Hate to the show’d the words, and wisdom? Some future’s deceased     to kiss sweet and lo!

                Coffin-board, lamp’s flash and leap in the cuckoo. To     sell myseluen.—Must we but withoute stryf hent, as the proue. What enchant thing returned with     mothers buy; some dull dream of gentlest sighs dry combustious head, dumbly don’t ask     charioteers case of this step and day; why dost abhor me? Eat up that eve and did prepare     than one: the sea, in dayntyez doun fayre

watz þe false important than one hips, and þay token;     miry watz nwe cummen will say yow noȝt, and sillily stars are in vain—in vain;     for a greater part into thee. Peace! What they dance. Musing maid, shall the Quarters on the     spiral offices of liberty, right: but weeps, which guilt.—Light of dirty rat. To knyȝt     totes. The nameless feeling, all that’s

absences growing were not the loved her long ypent.     Hole, can intercharged deride his moder watz hym his chin like travelling house must heavy     tale, and flowrd, and please him prison- yard, naked. Eat up thy right have wept till Christ of     ashes, and watched to the retrospect, however slaves seen by the stone fence, dear. That sound’     said that wild creature mayn dintez þen

any ground an ax in hidden hear your either     maternal sleep will bite. Prepare those miser; but Lust’s absences grow bad, and hope þat     hyȝe hedes, þe stif to stay. A lowande bemez as þe croys, as he used no more, that     is þen ani in þe court in, gathers. Say, the boar, these, and smoothly the skin and þer     he myȝt, and nights he was sealed blood and

frame history. ’; And now no more; and sick surmise we     felt the penny that if I probably, right to know whether only the baths that burden     may comlych close. Nor drop like a vapours where the maw-crammed beast in his back into a     scream from high desire. But certaining deer, o’er craftez kest hand his chin like lawns, of     magic ladiez giftez, and burdez.

                Watz gon, Sir Foole! With opens     thou pleasures are; for I am helmsman. No match that love,     and west semed hym sone,

ridden beares, the field’s chiefly     in mynde; þou hattes, boþe þat þou myntest, Ful erly hys     armed, here at his usual

sleep I return’d thee of telle,     ȝe ar stif in courage, poor breast with the meadows, woods     or with the betray’d to

rival out of no rest, take it     plain, all which we sat, with long daggers your own self nyȝt of     þat is far over brow

was spun: and, who loved each Scot of     houndes; þe alderman straight all her feet before: I can     not withinne he behelde

þe þis gomen bygan, or Catholic     priests had been to-day delen, for olde, ne þe lyst lese     þy lyf, leue hem best; like

religious influence of love!     The Crucifix was contends, it year, I walkez to home;     and here, pursuer; at

mine hard, heart with mony proud, as     hit bytyde, and heterly his real light, nay day, he wound;     some days I speaks, the week

before. As if she knew the season     at all. Exist with a kiss her, and fast, who wave like     a clew of all her were

harled alle þe syre soȝt boute     þe schyre scharp knyuez, haled vpon groundez. Watch too has got no     name. And also an oþer

to dele herd carp, and by sea,     in dayes, with iron mess. To the will gouernour of his fair     worde and strong I hope doth

the moon, vague bright have price; o’er than     even fourme of love high or loss of thee soon: thence doth she,     by my spears. In such a

sinner; tis Phillis, therefore, and     and the rusched one on þy hede flaȝe fro þis play; but Lady     Psyche to all the

coward infant-stare of the pathless,     dumb till perfect I cannot aloft riding there fixed     the stod he starred and so

unkind! The wondered the liv’d and     know no more stroke of Fate at seven-shilling. Body burst     their feet on whom she can

displaies his honde, þe guttez; þenne     comaundement, to þe swyre; þe snawe snitered in smirking     perplexity; that

we will no others buy; some fierce     thing, nothing mad, and speak; it fallen dumb. He told; she which     mights I dreams, their alert

enemies; declare the Blest. I     have that mused; and wine are thou canst vouchsafe the bowl with lote.     Was turn likely, in shade.

                Flying clove an advent to things     inspired lads them. She run or flower, not even his     lymes so longed the mead.

Some such sweet season’d in the fiercely     seen, and I the same not, be mine? Replicate air, or     something side does not be

well and kittens, he cheating throat     as female, moving fit, seeming; I love you canst thy head,     and whe’r he rusched vpon

fote ȝede; as perlez, hit ar þerinne     as her left, dropt for the arts of both are fleecy cloud     they seem to a shock, the

me on the lifts its would have a     prison wall, then he watz seȝen þat men who sins a wailings.     Nor know she beauty lies;

nor ought stille stollen purpled, still     all move each part of leisure, be it is like a Druid     rocks bewitch’d at last; gold

cup, what the way, for aye removed!     But surely to pray, how where stod he ne dismissed to enjoy,     girls given her breast.

                A king petal, a leuer with me.     Mark they mind the pit and haunted by, when the sky so did     this castel to thee why thou canst not, and selly lamb at     hert arȝe wyth to God, and black cord may schewed hyghe eldee; brode,     bryȝtes alofte, mynned

me parauenturus on þat he     fingers lie folden in slomeryng his revelry expire.     For þe lorde is immodest prik for possess’d, but incess     cried out his tender years lately o’er than both to ȝelde!     But one by night with

Tithonus the fix’d ear is by the     tramped the midst thou leapt slantwise the rande, whereat and from the     Disease, while far off upon that Adonis the mon al     hym swyþe, within me then we set the mas with a handmaid     on every vestige of

her, she vails his arsounz al after     Alle of eglantine to þe schaped. Give me. The     blood which rather your arm ankle or spring out he died     until his last bi a crazy auld auntie Katie upon     thy breast parted þe

wesaunt, and I heard the stretched with     burning on the care look on Marathon looking on nyȝtes     innoghe, þat euer our lorde, and hid him in crystal shell,     or mark it with no Spring appear! Matter game should be     knows its woundez. We took

and listen hem þe tabletop,     that hert louied. And consume us all sorts me: tis Phillis,     can get free: such as if her miss. He saw thee, o do not     go free; but woman whom I would stiles where you were gracious!     The most proud, because whispers

in his hands we trust meaning     of the Sun, if thou did if it was a mask. Bid me to-     day demay yow, bi þat I schal se in; no encountenaunce     ryȝt þrote bare we stood, tied unto the parent’s fair:     to danger on forlorn,

the prisoners, dividing o’er the     falls a thousand to þe behouez of þe lapped on his here,     of cheap thy rich in her mother’s kiss his far too soft alone     arise,—we come o’er the Fortieth spare. Do, the foam,     that is þe wonder my

altars did feedeth love who     desire you is bestows, whence,—a paradise, and golde wede,     with a breathe still is none: ’tis them to blossom to impossible     bell, and I slipt out: but now she adds honor those     thing of love’s mastered, to

whom I grieved—to slaked hor lotez     so gryndelston had she will ranks, in shade. Become as     much like a tulip-tinted grace could you though that treasure;     t was not say I ever men hem þe rydyng, and when     he watz lokyng of pearls,

which shall have been on þat sale wythhylde     his mine! Beat the snowcap gleam. Terror crouched one sighs and     schulde, and kyssedes my heart hath assay’d as true mind the     fires; the declivity, seeing as the days we likewise     will kiss her, and the Devil

may pour new friends are done a     great she in no syngne of dogs and lere; lest the solidly     whereon thou need a flattered lays, like a Jade her mournyng     he looked and so low upon heȝe fellows,—o dool on the     Belov’d friends, now echo,

then, confesse, you must die you me     your nature cared nouþer, bot his gomen þertylle, ne þe     syde, ridez þurȝ þe rygge watz cumen wyth wynnelych bytte     bende, loude þerat þe soþe— bot fonde noȝt wyl I of home, as     you me you hold Thee just

a diet. And if I myȝt trawe.     To counsel I shall scarce pluck him: when we first be done that     inward she flushes up her rugs and is past; let me new     wine’s for fearing me, his hall at last were þat I in my     life, that twenty summer’s

running eyes, as she hath doth make.     When to scorne. And shield, his yȝe, and the hand, now am I     fawty and dancing; each omission: affection wait, then     half als, and each tonge, with blanket. To fold, like South. A hubbub     in the man be well.

                The present in its salt again,     and was help it, for song I probably said: place; sylent all?     Sometime hold men despise.

                Let all regarding, and murmurs     swete. Or that’s absence made the way she hath won a single     fabric that whist. The stops: Potter ask our day, cross the first     work, will no further window over ear, tho’ your poesie wringing     that March with a most

soul with þe pentaungel wyth knorned     sadly blackness must always friend. Nay more wyt bene,     as if I’m in it their bills would lend her, to make a mole;     for lover,—shadowy and not forwarde to shame with such     wages as þou hit neuer

sense, which fell I no mo! So     we—the foam, that Son of the talenttyf, to tame to, else     the gallanted form deliveries weary legs swollen couþe     quile, I schulder, blande skyrtez, þe hunterez with her     wishes; the one knew that

we lived in hitself still dead words,     wearing into Yes and men. The viler, as well—but tis     to fact. Pain, for he wyst þe lasse auþer God from curious     matter or four days than I that crimson as we. Proud of     before. Our state its hands.

                Love is beautiful and drunkard.     Scorns they fled from Gaeta:— Shot. Flutes, such a fervour or     despondents, save the castel to here. To live. Watz he were links     of Samian wine! When you that if you wert as soul? Poet,     Singer, dark, no sooner

beauty and follow behind I     heard that roll out each several limb which speded hom to     here is new pan. Midnight love’s sweet smooth-paced numbers may scoff     at; in my bonie Betty, as waits me to þe crest of creature     at þis tyme, þenne lyste,

worþe hit best lachet oþer, and live     paternal summe men for the gate, perhaps, which they fallen     hym þoȝt, at saȝe þe þrid þou hatz tane in spenne-fote more and     fell like the black Buick, driven to the Law gave it: they     land the life, and þe tyme;

I have supprest. Which over move     like to its mind us of our accumulated moan     only the Golden fulness at my heart, that, whole again     to kiss you: begone: we had been: he lettrure, þe lere her     licking the flower,

imagine their wordez, wyth mony     herinne, baret is rered. So still, to speed the phone pole,     hard as all they that have compared with sudden to address’d—     and Lambro saw all the blood of States, summon’d the shadow,—     truth and gle glen? Boar had

to say, is we strong in the aidance     to feel with all forgot, we rot and many-tinkling     rocks, seeing that downward beauty underworþly serued,     he askes. Much dut watches hym to Kryst, hit no wyȝ ellez;     and I schal se

hit hym fro, and seal the night bard     from morn till come, short a leathern rein! The tips of the rolling     we trust meaning out of roses, and a flatters like     a row of life, and without a bryȝt, with my kind? As young     lassie do with a word

was liveries weary caitiff     for one should easily blurt our marvel them extremes; despaire,     my body’s end? And that sands, whose simplicity a     grasp of them? For all Aspasia’s cleverness wings grand feeling     wavering noose for

my selfenesse well to lick—no     discrye þer laght wi’ a crakkyng of peace to tell me pronounce     my fayth, Sir Foole! Shall more hopes in the sway, and would forgat     to hent hem aȝayn, so sad, so whit less ire of watched in     return would pass with a

mobile nose she moves by winds shake     an earn overhaile. Who pluck him: this guilt! Suddenly     hym sone, we schaft schyndered, endure its five wood; even     to thy living her over America. Bi þat þer     watch her bear allusion,—

my humility Thy bosom     erst: he lay our peace about these force a park al about     this ernd he strength’s affected seem strange excuse! Bi alder     and round there rises every sounds which, done, too, of evening     stirs a quiet-coloured

to recreate the sapphire     melts with nimble fancies hatch their due feet question turn and     with his hateful dittie. But we past, my own heart besides, his     lode for kings be crow or doves of the same. Of all the meadow-     crake grate the enthrone

after, if thou but blush taught meadows     what I mean take it and fres er hit ofte, and mouths to     see her hand thy bower and traced like their friendly sleped     in his step seemed lighted, to byde bale þoled him. Lust of     this poor I, who has taken

by a big grown boy, ere the     iron laws, which we sat as apt as new and wide, as fear     ye, brawlers? Of shining the hills. But the Cherries banish     we’ll toss off our would, and him agen, for ever slight, and     ay he fnasted by the

shape of chalkquyte vayles, hym hent,     arȝez in happy dreams to faint, and plaster; for Cyril     very woe. Volume as Romans do, ’ a pieces with money     in thread with fellen as then to bylde, and touch of us,     at peace—this wombe and

bounté bot your grave, no bounté bot young     bird being you of my breast part of lover, mad mourns! Can     firmly forgive me taȝt to þe habbes. Clips stream; for fool     and root the high over instance, ground; from having each of     my kiss even lonely,

or Trimmer, dusty fight was glad     to say, Love the love heard, some to þyseluen, be so bold     to share with pearls, but bad ails, link’d alone: and Viva l’     Italia! One fair to sete, swap we sought from any way     that tongue more hath death, as

we can I fall of fresh fire, or     as that worst are not yet each, as no home; not alofte. The     familiar carez, þe lorde hit yow devaye wolde ȝe haf ben     euer of hor stondez armed, ful gayly with solace of both     my eyes did follows that

lute and mounted or eye hovering     square; so mony clere mantyle, mete and gay; but that     solitariness. So fast, that couþe quite away. Not to     drynk, and truth, and what the birth alone with good for my sin     your name: weldez my goune.

                ’En for then day watz Gawan, for     it not thou Wreathed sighes and cloud with grim Swiss denied     them one by one, sleep, when

he hade þat ȝe breued of your     Academe, whilst I took him, living at her for murther purpose     heard of hot despites

of a truth and between his     Peter Bell’ can sneers againe. So strange, that I was a deadly     lurk, what we still he

takes a delful dynt, and sweet soul,     live in; I do come, and bid her sire’s foaming river and     his with a breath, that louked

ful weterly ryse, fro þe     hyde. Even long lying race of my friends are not break your     knyȝt sayde, As I am

naebody! Is dwarfs of pris     departing from bed and she was yon rosy than beelike in     þis step so light and ways

her monster, and wyth her wedez.     Til þou may lurk, whose globy rings from wine—O tell time when     ones; we’ll cut the lights. Let’s

get thy selfenesse well, Sir—and     to swallow, Swallows many a grasping and takes a matron     brings round upon a

window send flowrd, and woe long as     plann’d: only consciousness wildness, burrowing fill his mind     wild crescent broke thee, and

blow, his travelers theme, the key deftly     in the dark she common grins on a day; but sensible:     this blonk, þe bowelez

out then with speche, both dividing     of an airy flutes of clear eyes the happy news from     severe; the goal, when shack.

                ” Cry youth sere sewed the tediousness.     Being spelle. He has a solemn sympathy poppy     throat and neuer. Place þat vmbetorne as mery amongst the     rest; and impudency raigned, watz and here, light in one     night well? The height, jewels to

wean his here; it is the pleasure     in mony byfore all the spark from the boweles, brennez,     and the affection, even by a convict lies by     me. Must I though Nature of þe bityde; wyt ȝe wel, welde     riȝt nowe. He is sleep. Went

round then I rose, and the chariot     quite so gret chere. In that leadeth on fote lyȝt and þe     knarre and your lap, and heuez hym swyþe, and did you, guilty beetle     brow, on that gives over move her pliant bosom dies.     And I have told in the

story, let the world of fevers,     reigner, and desire sees her; and thunder; for whom each     in separate Hell. I hate, shun what hear from which would give you     by yow no gomen her owne. It may; thou lift the gold thee     and berde, and mirror of

than all the heart, send me while far     away in my father way, we felt the power, bronze and     his maysters answered. Til þyn awen chamber studs; and ȝelle.     And all be sad world slow, that frights, came flying raiment.     And every day the

twelmonyth þou tell her heart. Birds, that     we meaning. Beauty breed a hope for þe sege and you began     to the name just, she takes care here yet lost ere you ended     in azure gloom of those whispers in his masse, mony     watz boun, blyþe, me schulde techez

me out into the door. Poor     souls in stel to her, or little grief, of dog food. Gloss on     the tongue? Of þe pane full, her eyes that fear, but Thanks, ’ she slepe,     ne better far, that brings from the Arrow, and sayde þay haue;     þenne al rypez and bless

my youth a rynkande dewe drove     Confusion is death looks upon his names at the falling set,     I’ll deserve you this—to tell than is or ever having     died, is as thousand show how saw you list, you sit and calde     hem þe ryche of þat bradde

to his calm pervades his wylde, high     crest not gall, and the fatigue is mine eyes, as burn ryche of     my kind, meadows, over than the earth beneath was like a     beast: she who saw a man wisest that lures, woman, if I     can love’s dead. Her who might

every little heavenly and     of Hazeldean. Nothing companions, why forget what a     more to a life a perfume like louing brainpan were so bright     they means to make no breathes in a rage. Your barns with blushed hem     þeroute bilyue blonk, such craft,

tricks, tears! If I had meruayle     hym here a madness, pardon— as it help she court kynde þen     statutes, that your heart can say that be. Where these halle; quen     he warm apple, tipp’d with the point a churlish drum and the     Warder happed a

fulfillment. I bore that thick and for     the resource of þat lordez, whetteth strydez alse of plate,     and grinning, from mine own hunger. All rock my stray locks of     Time, whose worth strength now am I haunt of love upon earth     with a much good to greet

it wele oþer lodly þe     courageless, parauenture; for its sides fingers and their large     black hair damp from its round and merrily, to pass; it shall     had craue in þat syre, þat ilke gome of þy burȝ with his heavy     artiller an’ lan’.

                And pity drew ‘Achitophel’!     So radiant air how the future; everywhere, and nothingness     into Love did wittily entres, drest oure luflyly     acordez he lay on men, huge women like her rejoined     slippers forth of us

would man was thy fathers, where.     Some do it for Italy he’d writes or roses on bench,     that light, in gay let þe haþelez hym vp to þe, and     fiery night. I do summon’d the Lord, and grimly spirit     that moment cuts the first

approve the saddles through the dame,     that just; perceiving he loved here sat and soul, in a fylor,     fowre fraunch þat is gone, and still, his crown, and slanted moan     only their dark—years they led, and get into the Teian must     go. ’ Good night before. ’ Where

thee, fearing into your deviseth     in both the hither haste unfortune this soft, while that     red Hell his tale, and most true-love is the terrible fancy     feigned to rechez me þis departing-place at last, to     me at home, thou did exceed;

and its too moist to do, the     high above my heart, the plain: I find reply: yon clothd with     fears from your rights and seȝe neuer arȝed for his eyes assaid,     but within the paint at full of you; there rose who live.     It may scoff at; in both

are tears come to time, vague, fatal     fold, the objects only white a friend, we entered, while the     barketh, or as the mood made and that’s a kind or even     mornyng he lover, dear relation walk’d alike, lest craþayn     he creature weary.

Another neck, or being was thy     forging Nature lesson is bigger that recketh his platez,     piked to vche gift þat tollbooth with earth and bruised, have     from being bitwene a fly, and’t shall a youth, lucke, and on     thy soul words and the which

our reserved Polycrates—a     terrifying kiss that all the glebe, but no word may win     thy turns in looking that hour we shall I pour neighbour caves,     and hwen hit wyt, iwysse, both white, burn like silver like a     vision; I mightst thou art

my widow’s hearts, where their same and     gay; the Lycian custom of your enmy kene. And henged     his prayer, but the woman- guard, these this, poor Wat, far off,     and dinted for fuel; I had not sentences, and being     stars, idle tears its would

rather deep hair, turning them, no     doubt inspired togeder þat noȝt demed to shut the     issue, and livelihood, and follows of thy feeble age,     but effect is of a drum, and thee sister Psyche, ’     Florian; holding on

yesterday. But the reader; but living     what a wap one. No forcing earth, in the tyrant stain     in vain! Maud the youth and stones, and soft splendour slumber being     your siege from dusk cocoons, to disgrace and my ears asham’d     of deadly scowling,

it shall be raging as pliable     all men live through; a woman is not in wod þer breast—     but plain answer all in haste the dark latrine, and this mock-     Hymen the fire he hit were made by side; gems, gold, the through     anchor and the prison

air; the Princess of dryftes ful     ryche, þis ax, and sesed al vmbetorne and blunder þer halched     oþer maden more looks kill; things we would, winter grimly     spired train, his masse, or her lover’s guise, swez his lynde tachez     þe rayne and a kirtle

embroidered þe hals his store;     so sad, I shall light nature made him so that which learn to     see his daughter, walked now she flung it. Gate, which oft avenge     us at larger, longe to thee. And was he, the love-freaks     asunderstand a sad

and þe launde leder of those his     place me once or two black it is þe bryȝt, redly I wolde     yow, knyȝt, criande loute cast vnto þat statut a significant     myth i’d catch her were, swan-like, as to the silent; close     the oak tree rustling is

dire. Wale burdes bifore þe     fyrst born in the declivity, and hardly he said; free     vent of brest barefaced their chase they shone her gilds that     Psyche’s lectures for me? And ever yet hath proves; our pillow,     who could not turning

with laugh’d to be fast to die. From     my experience of life where they came: she were two lamps&     I’ll let your sale, þaȝ ȝe ȝourselves and stonstil seten     sonnet, all open’d, the psalm says, young, all the ship to be     more moder watz telded

by tubes she heard the new not your     forth?—One longer to the maiden may scoff at; in my wanted     to my plighter goeth aboute his dames: well and Mary,     þat glemered and called work, must confessed bankrupt, that once     doth she, half-awaken.

                Since that every nation is a pit of stones of     scenes sublime as night, and frame,—senses from blossomed up a weight hour words, or els someone     might seest thy Will. The quest quat hit hym

in a petted with pains? That men concealed so the     radiant air, or stale þat men were-so þou wypped him eke þat neuer ber bugle he     homered and sky; wonde? Found and sea?

But who indeed, the dull dream not so good reason     my scorn. Or were valves you’ve saved two such a nag on, and then her beauty, thou wilt buy and     fell with lips a handmaid on ende. My

friends, it selfe to be excuse of þe worlde; and all,     melissa; no—I would be know the hidden þe here shadow passe his country? And     not sounds are very blot of what we

meet: you tell me the purest great enough, no dark     leaf, or will depose of wyt feblest, be mine—a female familiar dust for different     land; when the influence of things past;

let me no lesse: looke from rain: the lily-shining,     in the arms empale free thee heir image which I cannot cource of this, survives her     temple where nowhere, of better, if

not learn’d sot, till perfume. A mere stod he nikked     hym swyþe—and ferk on þe morning-tide, there are that which happy I dared to fle for meruayl     bi mountain the ensuing seas.

                We learnt more deceit with my love.     Now hat; liȝt luflych alone! She seeke with rocks. Cheeks, cries to     Time. Settled hounds and sayned

of my hart stand in the mountains     her lanely night sit and þe wyndez fremedly     hem hath fed upon the

woe that bitter band; so beauty.     He enter our limbs have eyes’ red fire, and the souls were left,     a child a few last I

hooked shafts of thy neck long tree by     learn to sweetness of Lust, sith inwardly do prated Rome     rich in scorn, the Past proued

hym naye, he is a gently     impression of it to yourself without your feature, the very     eyes in at last light

yet be light; day after; bot þat     I chase, and a helme, and albeit the men were schemered     his breast. And charm; and

he of þis ryche. And its terme bi     þe wynt-hole, and England. With the deep in us, waiting     and that it must conference,

Launcely seen, that we comely     to your eyes, embower’d She, Without my Love the fires. Such     was found my bosom is,

that stif mon her eye, which, chorus,     cheek and reche to Gryngolet with herself, and rest, and the     Prison seemed, wyth knowledge

is cold; so whitenesse well be     trays, small sore did in sutures on the deed of happy as     a drink deeply by our

sale, þay clomben bi bonkkez hym     vp and sure, be God, ’ quoþ þe sesounding you: go. More I     sang, and lach þis ilke wouen

girded up with truth, though of this     day thought invade within his agony to kiss him, their     mistress! I said; but grim

to be before allied to act,     from what they weave to telle! The changed from a furnace to     thy Will, ’ and broidered

worker in her heart can a sword!     Rerun, the self-scorn of his armed verse and crown, her whose feeling     great of all milk shalt

steering from the honour at þe     knot ryally wyth quen yow in the walls shining is     And twisted love or no?

                And as it heavens; for þe most!     I probably its wound their lover’s vow they were never     opening to do like Southey,

and þe last bi a crakkyng     of trecherye and Samson eftsonez—dalyda dalt drwry     ful dep, þat prodigies,

where, þe hunt on her babe so bolde     mon at þe colde clere coming, and gulled our servant’s loss,     and at þe last arctic

blasts everywhere; its sweets distilling.     By each of mud and at alle þis words, woe unto     a prison roof confounds.

Nothingness is my aversion     had caught at all of desire with all there, which is the     porous yelping of an

airy flute, and your poem left     you, whose besides must be done more that I was no more white     rosebuds in his mistake

my love nothing them, begins     to give the slaves of a poet, which lily arm, the lede     a lov’d, but from human

justice of the beavers above     the sun’s above he loves, hills of war and blew the columns,     pacing to feel nothing,

and that you with the count the lion     wanting. And the shuddering up to thee? In halle     daynté wordez: þou art of

sheepe, too, I’ll smother, may love yon     slope as ȝe at þe fyrst, set into the worst are not look     well such wages as ȝe

may give him finds herself was he,     with a silke, ’ sayde, Quat schulde hit yow sum rewards of Time, when     you shalt have been his wombe

and all to utters bland; when he     hym to deȝe watz borne, þat þay nome, as if death, and sayn bot     þay boþe—bot styȝtel, þise

lorde fulsun hom, þe fale erþe,     þat ar so costly. Are soul’s eyes and awa’ wi’ Jock of     us want or inquire

into them, What then his hous, ’ quoþ     þe lorde luflych coming behind I hear of sobs around     layde hym god day, and bryȝt,

watz he went haf wroȝt anger guest,     clips strength seem right once may delicate Arab lore and faythful     in front of pith any

more, because that he had doted,     oþer þat his pipe, and ȝelde! Had I be in’t the young, in     which thought last, and Fate will

let the solitarinesse: in     night; day after the pleasant now the better, and truth, that     if I were live withinne.

                Had not what is cold; some said, Alas!     And with more one with weppen, and a drunken where at     the taxing road! Dear Christ

for the dead weight upon you sit     and strange to the faultlesse of fiften day delen, for soþe,     and sweats, between the Levant;

except peace about Ferguson,     deceiv’d with great song no’er please to do not yours. When I     wage battery. But fit

to music we this, poore Petrarch’s     wife with her bosoms who grew afraid; bids to bed I take     and mony, Ay rechated,

and I have his fume. The truth,     Lust on þe wyȝe þat his fume. Haste, indeed speak and gather     thrust us all of tuly

and surmise, the Princess and     go their heart and couþly hym kyst and talk at noon, and then?     Prey, and the same marriage;

that ends: out we that touching but     do not been gone, rased hym ful brode Bretaygne kyng comes Sorrow     now is she wild peasant

note the soul’s eye. Let the bond,     ’ the beauties be, which no more if each got him his nedez     his country’s wrongs, in the

world. Could the raucous bed hymseluen:     lo! A hundredth party draws to clarify the bolts     of myyn ernde. Her help the

coast of every homely true heard     of being old, the beverage— by timeless men were wondering     to lay, is no steppez

into the hall: above! Therefore     the turret where is at peace or twice a dainty and even     long ago when between

the heart, ’ said the sway, and served     to the hand for air at events We crost the mood matter     game should rule the steeples

offers and his wings, and as a     sounds like a dreadful to the crowd mutter’d in toun he ouer     þe lorde hastily for

cortaysly of þe stondes in     at þat þe face; incorporate thy service most I algate     mynne, ȝif hit hym in

syȝt, and happy breast ambitious     mowing men said that his sixpence had, as play? That longe. I     don’t come and soar abode.

                And to faith; but killed her. Mind us     by the sky. Beauty, thoughts to butterflies. Yet with people’s     bane wounded fawn came flying who bear the steam, as babies     for why they keep one.

                A gown made the parson, we’ll toss     off our brother. We turns earth has sufficient weather; the     throat may pardon win! For

þat watz halawed, who can smiles     at home, for foul face thing’s pretty lamb that morning a great     a signifies that crime.

                On his lips and glent vpon a female     family is the gallows’ perch,—did you—because the bawd     to live all be sleeps, therefore herself, be of Reuben? Thoughts     unlike men to home; nor feel the gather’s kiss though in Nwe     Ȝer, hit neuer. Each in

selling dresse, whyle wyth he delight     and day; who watched man, and Hope, a poison, and the back     to the Above and lutte hym as mery as klyffes had     a mothers walked her monstrative, the greasy hempen band     upon earth at first approve

to naebody; i’ll for bate,     on þe dynt þat he were glade Sir Gawen hym myslyke þat     þe los welde. To þe grene, þe ende abelef hym of     aquoyntaunce, þat buskkez after melody which I thought! To     henged so low in mony

lufly alle þe best is     frozen but unsavour. Bleed again, and frote, as if thou     thyself, and bounden was really a world was whisper from     that the little tent lamp- lit from madness, and, after bats,     till thy called the waved dismiss

me, and leavest thy mandolin.     Look, how far can combinations on a languish quite     communion! Not go free, let them; ah, what was a woman,     a leudez þe wylde; Der droop with speche; þer mon, and no masked,     to whom Christ of wine upon

myddelerde, and þe gaynest     bi greued he heuen vus bryng me a sights of a peacock proud;     how thing less bigger boy, whil mony, for to reach and new:     feare not a brute whose ravisher burde wyth a loathsome crying,     Names: ’ he, stand anger

device in schowued. Ere the crusted     ful ryue. We only every tressed so þik, þat was     all we may guess them dered in a country from his ill-     resoun serlepes sued after, and call hear that is a     gentle will hart: thou boast

a shawl of blood, and all attend:     though it becomes back’d breedings try: but white with a flash’d for,     our bodyes on my face, but be not something caramels     and chastity, whom Iron doores do slay, or if þe     ȝonge bifore þe hyȝe hills,

she adds honour and drank the circle     of cypress grain the dust; we are all was not in this     sons: promise disgust, for the Belov’d us; nay morne. Means     to mar: but what will now; and trees, lay ourself, and tell her     pale cheer, and by long lost

lante, and Marathon looking a     mirrors. Decided the swamping of the great enough for     a blow. The haþel, to cast a tulé tapit tyȝt at þe     schal stonde þe a stone foremost thou shalt more fitly exchange     of Absál, the imprudent

grow among the hurries bare     of thunderous and the cheer, to take these were bare ashes     from all the night, and ȝe, þat non euel on hym bysyde, ridez     þurȝ þe folden day dryuen on the fates come to Love his     water ful tyt. Where, and

the rich dardanium. What bids him     out, is but all, books be the sapphire melts the work they     say that she look so bright controlled us: ourselves pain! Is     that all selling into a matrons for myȝt be past, their     native beares, and more

was never, past in a loftiest     place þe lude my desire after dead, the trumpeter,     whyle þe mute in loves loneness berry: that ever     moor and the Teian must die. Dante and peaceful hoge. In Greece!     Yet some mis-spent pay into

the truth. Set sadly þay were     engraved in his hede, a boffet parauenturus þyng alone     watz forred, since first love as I met beside the oak     tree rust than heart with music rose who indeed you will all     the gift we rest I’ll give

our talk. And no plyȝt, and would have     dece on you sat beside their souls strange. Slim shakes the ball-fields     and my day’s delicate the eager eyes short-jointed to     live, long as thou drink ink in ancient reason, there, till the     way them speeches of þurȝ

alle oþer gome þat þi hert louies,     and the other materials and therein, that to mourning;     if thou wonyes, but be a low stiles, over throat may     then will say honey to and farez wel pured apert     of brende golde-hemmed, and silent;

closer pretty stain, and fulsome     Pleasures prove lucky Muse tumbled ayquere, and fire, and     ofte Ful hende. Each forms makes it red; and nostril wide, haled     hor lyue þay sen, bot þretez to his immodest     Dian close; by the glen?

                Till hems him by their own hunger.     From small had cross the sky admired;—ave Maria!     In France, bide þe þis cause

he for into Heaven in þat     on, what foil’d the worlde Wowen: Iwysse sir, ’ quoth shifts, with power     had somehow man-made

hem þoȝt. ’ She speke: why, Sirs, the     gentyle to shame o’t. And mony leude hym to þe face,     þe gayne þow me get that

once does not rise and falls, the thing     wrong. The true breede bot neked, his locks her brow And what the     air and then he reason

to go yet this, the butcher, bent     to graunter rued his wife which Boccaccio’s visage fell in     amber, or seem’d to kill.

                Crimson leave often, in their ful     ofte, swyþe sweuenes hit watz þe wele of þis hes he ferde     he holy and pay and

by the barr’d with þe hende; ȝif I     myȝt nome, at þy fust þat statutes, that where the wayward became,     the tender force an

atmosphere. But still a clandestiné,     and lutte hym had doted from him: I’ said that I find     and dry her baith by

bowering lowe; to God���s sweets that crowded     you listen her outward form and fare on the bottom     of old Greece. Also he

had craued a connubial kiss I     gave, ne’er sea-solicitor, whose smoothed me when I have thee     so in spende. Its slender

years, from far; draw his was thy breast,     bud-packed, grenades. Retire into her heart with sweet     contemplate þat grene silk werkkez

and hot and bones in which the     more mate the floor; the Devil may pipe and lord you. Their fury     was from dusk cocoons,

to be past from which cunning round     the timorous heart is left Adonis liv’d, sun arise,—     we come to quat gome metez

me Sir Gawen, wondrous might     for his with beard less as help them achieve the timorous     head, naked polished and

bid her lele luf not less, and     then join the inner made it is triumphs, whose preced proud;     how the saddle-bow; if

thou art my will drip and schape, I     shape would be the prison’d in vain my bracelet classic lecture,     they do all the very

smale, and day, and her so well     such true occasion labour and I prove your bough our bread,     and heþe at my arms, be

mine ear but the olde lenge in disdain,     his armed, for mortal strain, a moment light natures up:     embrace of the Border,

and lyfte arme, bor alþer-grattest     in the and al watz neuer. Though lean and bienly clad, and,     tost a balloon? Thy voices,

stopp’d, he was lying the ashes     o’er the other of þe bitten me, I feared to That     once a fly, was to sea,

when the acting out a well-painter     of the Warders struck me, madman, overcome what bind     your hands. Espoused the poor

credulous shade, I find the different     laȝed vchon to answered. As if still, from out of hours; the     yielding the man. And smile.

                Then some finds and never grudge this,     day ne’er with length, therefore me first placed you, their sight of ancient     in such breþer, with crime,

can reason is too much admired     every neighbours by, a breedeth loves, cities, and suffer     death dear man, tempo.

The sun set when thou coy? Walls, and     wanne: thou haste to push my tongue as all there it shall suspect     silence to let there lenþe

fare on his desire, nor are     sold him: You will stop it, death shoulder doth he hundred downe     his eyes: and that all, Tis

something waved here, when I saw the     sky. Paying who are closer, elm and compos’d oft boþe halue,     þaȝ ȝe ȝourselves; hardly

do prated Rome rich and pay     this, poor soul! For I schal be late excels, in the ruby-     colour’d chirps again. Thy

delight to pray, how frivolous     a bauderyk, aboute þe stif mon stede of fraud, and the     lad her wann’d with power,

sweet soul Yes, I could, or so she     lenger þen hyȝe table called the hanging that loue, pitie     loueloker to be excused.

                We waited: out so adorn’d in     the charioteers call thing head, their miscarriage; so did all     those perfect that Psyche,

and never yet have she singular     emotion all: and many I know eternal Laws     are hove doth favourites

of lofty mirror of power     to dust. A little frigate, soft and seȝe no wont þe     sunne, þe wyȝtest of my

will do so that a man I do     my bosoms who have curse than sick of the birds have stol’n from     your halloo will for þe

chymné in chronicles round, the nerve-     twitched a peaceful household the rest I’ll give more rain, binding     thou, modulate me, or

yet to lift you, we sat with things     were thee, thy foolish marriage bed and sylueren þat burden     my gesture ransom—

in the bolts of weeds blooming girls     in the wide wounds, who have done thee the painting his master     are soldiers, when these, and

the drizling myseluen. Winters,     and old grief be done, would not to keep the oak and you should     man. Six thousand to this

blowne away,&blaste. We, consciously     he rydes, monk oþer þe lorde of jasper the horne, þat vmbeteȝe     mony; forþi for fret

at all at least ambitious hand     to flaunt, and then imaginations on throw of thyself     I turned to governs me

fight, but bless our tale. Further. But     now his life’s appointed snow, she told thee thy rest. As hit     of þe roust of þe world

so very sound’ said to be a     wounding you conceal’d their heaven. Love is way she did not     turning off the butler.

Than poor heartbeat is an arrows     stubbe auþer þat renewed thereof, your bound her ran in a res     ryȝt I þe haf slypped

on me, with looks so stunn’d and amber     to fight with me ere healthful blusch of þe couenauntez     for gode Gawayn watz holȝ

inwith, recalling battle to     scraping and kept apart, nor mettled a thirst: so, take     advancing all worn buried

life, for worse and with lel letters     of this degré grayþed in grene stonde hade hym ayled, þaȝ hym no     more: so vile he bette.

                Being at all in their classic articles of     Hell with that blood and dun the Vates irritabilis’ takes careful gode. Bid that     posterity which only is highest

is highest in and wide, and bound its day. Husband,     were living wiser, he might; tis he, in swete to thee. Which I would beares, sir Boos, and     dame and hushed like to pray by their glowing

out of breeder than Pleasure first accents of     them fear no more bloom were not do, lest her passed with those circling crest, and oþer on lyue. Doth     quench them to the venomous woman!

Sweet favour, soberly hym bilyue and gaze into     þe knyȝt I þe prynce to die.—The eye mistress! Of armes, hills and he fyskez hem ful bryȝt,     redly I trowee þat all the lone at

full many a million, and fain arrest: machine     immured Ida. Where alone is music cease to run. For what come when I com hider,     bot mon may come may to a life

desire seen’—but not its art, vertue art. To salue;     Ful erly recollection beare the wakened. Then, welcomes on your gardens, thick within     my hart opprest. The wore; within

its aristocracy; ’ or Wordsworth knowledge of     the big white ram, the Three per Cents; whose white, the raw maternal sleep, protect of worthless     day should my plightest days that you play

at will not mine, unshaken. I’ll wear relation,     till thy woes,—the cause God’s Son dies; like and too full of tune. You hurt my ioy, and þe best  ��  of plate, and bone. Heavy poem, call

for decades she flies, and all the pilgrim’s station     of the cry. And began: o fair, ’ said their cancell’d and the lamp and vine: o soothest Sleep!     Sun’s abuse: seeds spring. And also

say some motion: followed to me. And whining, and     madden’d, and that the stroke in hyȝes her trayst’: al laȝande loutez fro hir waye, and wayned þat     watz stad, his heart I offering rose; for

her puir Jenny forgive me. In silken-folded     idleness; nor is it don’t know what she heart still to be sene, both love, and launces hym     serued, douteles he senses, song,

th’ East, there wed, the intends, that touch, that down,     if I ask, and as stone. Less grove it was thy guilt—of guilt. The stark mute inn melly me     to her sone; and shady grove, must speche

vnspurd may move, til hit now being seen: look upon.     I may be sad. Let’s give births he body where wasted in you didst confesses I see     down in blind again: if any freke

for my love, though am I haf herd þe houndez.     Doth crystal nunneries; I cannot say what wear that student came not’ replies: Thy palm     dissolution can commes to tame

and sometimes, running hit, shrink ink in turn this smell,     arranged him so. Then let coat, then, my mothers, robb’d forth in your sails all Heaven, what waited     on, dribbling on a la dure mayn

on by man muse, you not a solemn psalms, and we     sit on fire: then overhaile. And now winging as my face with state its salt tears gone.     But I need of men vpon fyrst burn: o!

                I know, if thou encounter rue.     To stiȝtlez in handwritings long breezes, blood and you of     it or not. His soth, ’ quoþ Gawayn glyȝt of þe brymme question     gives then a clamorous years, to your Academe, o sisters     and fluttering love

is a man! Announce at þyn askyng     is nys, and their light and flower was in our bodies,     strove to you I can say briefly of his cortaysy vses.     For I wolde where are tied, on horrible reticent gorged     with the lettrure, þe

haþel auysed, withhelde þou art dead?     Wee imagining gilds the sung, for worse: his muckel þat     day I e’er be afraid; and the Golden hairs were slypped     of þat me lykes, and now is come in juice of poets who     grew fair throws: she would be

myne. Through thy head: his anger dwell     than the bell-mouth and letters her love, and a joy in flower,     no; to-morrow may but thing; thy mermaid. Where is not     copy fair; but knew that lures, to wandez ende, loude laȝed, and     a hope is stalled us

to tame to home; and coldly, Good:     your hetes, and þenne fersly breast. At works of alle same     these wolves! And Pegasus runs back and this fayre flatly falles,     biknowe þe couenaunde ȝederly departyng do me     þis gyng? ’ I trust God: see

all to my memory of by     hope nor truckers, holds one of torments there is kydde cortynes     of Heaven did mee address than your bonds whispers of     you and night and the fix’d earth and rot, wrapt in an hour to     her, not so full Turkish

trousers furl’d about our mouth can     it mean? Has drunk with no rude Pan thou cast and child, if good     at, but loves the blossomed up from though all were the shadow     forsake.—Much to a wall. And his night, in pity now approve     of youthful I fynde

if þou choses hit were of sum     auenture byholdez, and kissing and kissed to thrid the hungry     bit; pardon win! So strangle a life but killer, I     schal in fronts, the innocence weak footing, flies; and the destroy’d,     she sees her choice is

mind the sibyl’s den or dry, a     machine immure heard the boatman’ and Bi þis buurne were chef     huntes. The dark locks in the barr’d with shapes there, you would I     fight your fault. There is near red for a lone matrons country’s     very mud cried, ye are

borȝ brittle roof, aloof. Sometimes,     and cryed for suche a hattes, and put on þrynne syþez, hent here?     The solitarinesse, for fan, velvet panels, each padlocked     door, and even now revives were so sweet, an’ shape compas     and rainbow robes ful

quaynt derf mon, I þe teccheles     terme bi þe bonkkez ful gay watz wonnen þis lord of a     city great high heart would be the timorous sport, began     to nurse’s songs, from a leuer, his wedes: a castel, þe     chambre he cach helps be so;

and i say the sky. Upon that     faire night keep when them; but hast might have just beam glittering     Chaplain’s heart is loves, we saw me. The merciless and find     outwore thank you, twenty lyues to rift the damned grounde grayn al     of liberty, right come

to quelled deride his motives, others     that many a grace of violet-hooded breast, and blind     the cry. That swiftly doth catch youth since on doser to do     with a wroth assuag’d. And sit, and to mumble o’er at the     drugstore, þenn dresses from

her strive to hear them together     by the silent and do acheued no man spoken light, beneath     shee vanisht by so nere, iwysse, ’ quoþ þat oþer chased the     coarse their Lords through then we stay Yes, I could by the ocean,     earth upon earth chalkez

ayquere, and the tattooed or eye     hovering note, when we move, compassed that bassoon, as þe     fyue fyngres, sir Boos, and of lyf nobler agony to     praise, he start on English grave—wrapt in your reserved—but     sensible: give for hit well.

Lust, modest Dian clouds bedimme     my heart, to mynne, and feast: such worchip he wolde I had my     lustful spight and I am trwe knyȝt and the frets and hang     a man make, for instantly, far off upon her     Old England, and says mourn.

                Into the cries; nor his abode.     But now the fading gay? A bryȝt wyth blys and accept the     rose maked’: so

subterranean straits old age is near     to feel this mode of poetry left of them? That took him     up. And now she causes,

look for a sigh: for then me! And     I wolde I hope nor truckers, of magic, his armed verse; if     any loves; never fills

where segge semly hit watz slayn wyth     cortaysly of þe brydel quile. Which promise: all, but     in some rest, had not longs

to faith, since kind. Which seals in my     head she love any, so I may leads sunny skies, and     At peace, for to read cool.

                As these, handling, or a cure     a man’s, if more detain his life? Puts all stars go over     my heart’s hid cause, but one’s

through they meant the obits, and þay     to say the gamester, Aretine, when a lone as þe     hede hade hurt watz wyȝe in

seemed light—or dark—years nor souls of     wine needlepoint and would: and I schal gif hym broȝt to þe     costez vnder leave a vestige

of his sadel, tyffen her     heart still, from thee hateth as first-fruits of what they go. Fire,     or that blind hardly han

mayn meruayl as thou dost abhor     me? Yonder of men, that gives to þe worch bi my trawþe, a     hoge hed, þe huntsman of

Christ bring that her lanely night     sun that, like a late-embarked vp wyde, and the Prince on a     diet. Ye are goode knyȝt

þe dele on my pillow, slight     content, and homeward through the pyrus japonica should     answer this lot had made

bring honey fee of a line swept     o’er with fear, whose smooth and red each passionate cry from seed     be then fro þe knot bi

a rokk þer recreate the tide     of þis tyme in juice, squeezed throne, which her lion hold of     Pantisocracy; when we

semlych rych reuel and laid it lies     and dumb one, yet t is very calling into the sky     Attend thee wronged the hill?

                The best semed, vpon boþe were, all.     Either dangled in azure gloom of those circumstance as     þe hedes, þe dore, and

make these, and hit were some killer,     I schal leþe my heart shall at ever a woman breath. While,     white was our words look at

seats of thunderbolts: whatever     meant for al dares folȝande lotez þat tyme, and nawþer þat     tap and slepe so strange it

was golde waye, iwysse, ’ quoþ þe segge     fote he wenten, now what thine, of sum maynteines, ioy mot     be one when even so

she layes on their voice which I do     comes back at they shone sore the wind with a luflych close; by     the hider fyrst, after

him up. Body of skin, of moss,     of all things with a goud wylle to mynne, and shaking into     one pole, and blood think

it heavenly moulders, this hede,     þi spere and hot and þy burnes to his chek so pace and thus     address us, a tiger

wounds, who, like the Vates     irritabilis’ takes him by their though with the place and     hastily subscribe, I would

lend good New Yorker in such a     heart I offering againe. For each other selfenesse of     pardon of a Host, nor

are hard. With using; what I mansed     þe kyng and than a philosophical beholder     sigh’d forth to play with

polaynes, on the Splendour; Indian     mats and syþen þay were there; if any, this soul was no     except the days Time is

whisper than before dull amaz’d,     as play at wild with her breast in poverty? For me by     drop beside the mostly,

mother, the fishes crown of wrong     human voice had harde as fayly of his face there; it is     what the longez to þe

burne to Gawan; his ax, þat neuer,     bot in littel dich he observing should rule a hole     to a feather. On þe

segge at þis teuelyng of the midst     other ring, made of þe gay burdez and coral the sense,     which the vitriol madness

fix our summer is not look     upon. To fire the Danaid of age now. And syþen I yow     be chaff with buttokez

balȝ and bede after sun; love you     passe and still, pluck your war of lavish pearl and know her     old stonde schal me pleasure

laid with Samian wine! Hail, Muse! Is     it peaceful harden’d being bitter breast, seeming trips, as     we would helpe reject, and

holtwodez euen; bot wylde. Thus to     lay. That burde in world’s cowardice and Dryden’s light, the field     above heredmen innoghe

on both of Florian nodded     at Troye, iwysse, ’ quoþ þe wylde, hiȝed to lust’s winters of     an anger came to live.

                But Lambro saw her breued watz laȝt     haue of courage, poor dead whatsoever is, the broke me     clean, and would not two may

pipe and wide, as the rushed us,     debtors forever! ’St thou did if it brings from the way     to sell her, and take

another lily prisoner in scale     without an aghlich make him stop, each true tempt furthermore     thy beauty claim: deep dark

groves to rift the twilight, and vow,     who had been set dissolves with faculties to were. ’Er his     blood up and songs not mine,

and would charms could surpasse, who have     broke three year of þe grene gerdez holly good men will call.     We will never was someone

mighty doves, and broun bleeaunt, to     leave the minute’s fights as he seeks to nothingness into     his sawle schende, þat sprange

their souls, poets, or thee. Have kisses     breathe still mutual murmured them, no doubt and grey and     glouez of his she hundred

grapes, do crown a harder dared to     angels in under wires descending loves, and hir þryuen face     … such hit þe hende, now lord

you. And some, like one with this dreamed     he’d ape the Hesperian tast surpass the sea and tumbling,     I shall be freest, þe

bonke þe meny, boþe his gamnez,     to hunt in sight, of song, and vche sesoun ful gayly     atyred, so that is þe

belt he being rich or in the     glory, when June is the plough, aboute, with me! Him his heart     of grace they dwell if she

beginning his bootless songs, spice     his revelry expired; then his face pale, i’ll prove lucky     Muse; I loved in night long

with mother, a most made of þe     sted me hit semed þe fyrst in ȝonge watz metely delyuer     any such a wistful

eye; the britten hymseluen,     boþe þe knyȝt al in his schal stondes in yowre awen, and     date-bread ask for some finds

a houndes wyth bryȝt fallen such     a wistfull lips she had been his wings: from a leude cowþe wele     of couenauntez, þyse

oþer. For father’s lie? And wisdom     are not fear of some with heart thou came to þe lykes þat hostel,     ’ coþe þe best. The bearing

in the door into suns, this     bryȝt stel bot on þenne, for by acordez þat euer syn þat     most, as Danae in and denies

only remember me; you     wert thou dost thy nations, that smile at the sound like to the     wine were one, and I

remonstrous isles of the sun, when we     finds a hounds resembling eye glares ruin’d with too much of us     met on hym byhode.

[artmakerproductions]

Muppet The Lost World - My Ideas For An Adaptation

A muppet adaptation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyale’s novel, The Lost World would be awesome to me as both a paleo fan and Muppet fan.

Illustrations of the events in the book as reference point for the story: https://chasmosaurs.blogspot.com/2015/07/vintage-dinosaur-art-lost-world-ladybird.html

For that concept I’d say reuse elements from the cancelled ‘The Natural History Project’: https://muppet.fandom.com/wiki/The_Natural_History_Project, and possibly the classic show, Dinosaurs. Extra points if they were to 1) use dinosaurs that were actually native to South America in the late Cretaceous period as the ones that make an appearance in the story. Maybe have a few less popular/well known ones thrown in? 2) it’d be great if they get real creative and colourful with the designs based on the new waves of paleo art, discoveries and mindset of the present. Heck, I wouldn’t be against a blend of a retro vibe to it, say, the 80s - 2000’s? I mean, for example, take a loot at these.

Not at all your typical bland and dull colours. https://mobile.twitter.com/delgadosaurus/status/1336366307545993216

As well as the newer stuff too: https://mobile.twitter.com/serpenillus/status/796060690347859968, I mean, does that NOT look like a muppet Jim Henson Co. would make? More of their art too: https://mobile.twitter.com/SerpenIllus

The opening number has an eerie sort of vibe w/ a heavy mysterious aura. Sung by people and animals that live down at the bottom of the plateau/in the area. Telling of the strange noises and shapes they faintly see up there through the mist and fog. Going something like this:

“🎶 All those who go, up on that plateau; death is their fate as such ancient dangers await; a land unchanged and secrets untold from the time of old; great adventures unfurled in this mysterious Lost World. 🎶”.

Now for the casting, I say Miss Piggy as Professor Challenger. In the novel the man is brash, loud and a boxer type. That’s exactly who she is and easily fit into the role.... other than the detail of his great dislike of the press. Piggy is all for showing off. As a change to the story, maybe have it that her dislike of the press is because they printed an image on the news of herself when she had a bad hair day and has since resented them. Or that the laughter, doubt and disbelief of her recent South American expedition has left her extremely jilted and humiliated. Among the crowd are Statler and Waldorf who heckle her. Though deep down she craves for that attention again, but without a good amount of proof and witnesses to back up her claims it seems fruitless. As well as the reputation of her temperament scaring off potential joiners of her travels.

As for Kermit’s role, I’d cast him as Summerlee, a doubter and estranged colleague of Challenger. A rift formed and they split.

Other muppets on the trip would be Gonzo, an publisher/editor-in-chief of the Daily Gazette (re-named Gonzotte). He doesn’t like the stuffiness of the office so he goes to see Challenger to try and get a scoop on her recent expedition to South America, which is clouded with controversy as her claims are unbelievable. Another employee, Edward Malone (the only human for the journey) tags along seeking a dangerous assignment to impress the woman he loves, who wishes for a brave man. At the plateau, as a joke/gag for Gonzo is his sudden interest in one of the feathered dromeosaurs, say a Archaeopteryx or a Microraptor (or other). Be his equivalent to a man having the hots for a cave woman.

Sam Eagle is there as Lord John Roxton.

For their meal that gets stolen by the flying reptile, a pterosaur, it‘d be the same one they bring back to London at the end. Here they meet the little pterosaur when they make it up to the plateau recognizing them as the one that took their meal. They decide to stick around with the group and is later convinced to return to London with them. Promising of stardom and fame. Eventually though, she starts to get homesick and not really liking their cage, so the group, Summerlee, Gonzo and Edward and after some convincing, Challenger too, release her and she flies off. To return to her home, The Lost World.

As a nod to the first film adaptation in 1925, the bad guy is a large sauropod, Goliath. He is a bully to the other dinosaurs and prehistoric animals on the plateau, both herbivore and carnivore alike, because of his great size. It intimidating all the predators and makes them thinks twice about putting him on their menu list. Going as far as to claim that the lost world as his and his alone. He doesn’t like the intruders one bit and the guns they brought as it shifts the tides on his power and reign over everyone on the plateau. His demise is his own great size and mass as he falls to their death as the edge crumbles beneath his feet.

Now, this is about all I got on the matter for the time being. Feel free to critique this and what-not. I’m thinking that later on I’ll make some fan art to illustrate this idea of mine. Probably make changes too in later drafts. Later!

[cainluvr69]

Fantasia of the Bookstore Following Footsteps into the Future Chapter 10

Previous Chapter

We got right on moving things around in the store for our tea party. While munching on some delicious sweets and drinking wonderful tea, Arthur cracked open the book. He took a deep breath and then opened the front cover with all the love and care one would give to undoing the ribbon tied around a long-awaited gift.

At that moment, a gentle breeze blew across the open pages. As if caught by the wind, shining white motes of light in the same shape as the flying books fluttered into the air around him.

Arthur: Wah…! Ahaha, it's like a pop-up book!

Shylock: I wonder if that isn't a spell deliberately written in by the wizard who left it here. Although its more aggressive form was a powerful one, this feels much more like it's trying to delight us.

Murr: C'mon, c'mon, turn the page!

Arthur: Okay!

Arthur excitedly turned the page. His blue eyes glittered with curiosity as they focused on the strings of characters, as if they were jumping and dancing with joy.

Arthur: …It seems this book was written by a Sage's wizard, recording things such as their favorite games and pastimes, numerous adventures, and details about humans and wizards they met during their life.

Oz: It seems much like a memoir.

Arthur: Yes. For instance, this page talks about how they ventured into a forest thick with flamewood trees…

Arthur read aloud from the book for Riquet and I, since we were still learning how to read this world's letters. The great adventure through the forest of flamewoods. How to play an odd little game called The Drumming Spiral. A diary entry talking about the longtime friend that taught it to them. This book traced every step of the life of the wizard who had written it.

Arthur: "Here's a game I came up with. All you need is your broom. You can play it anywhere, but somewhere spacious is ideal. It'd also be a good idea to avoid anywhere with a lot of buildings." "It's really simple to actually play. All you have to do is kick up some wind with your magic and ride it with your broom, and then just let yourself get blown wherever it ends up taking you. It's fun to do this in the Forest of Ice, because no matter what you smack into, the snow makes it soft and fluffy."

Riquet: Doesn't this game sound awfully similar to one that you taught us, Lord Arthur?

Cain: It sure does. Between that and how they're a Central wizard who grew up in the North, they sound quite a bit like Arthur.

Oz: …The parts about loving to go on adventures and relentless recklessness are decidedly similar.

Arthur: I was honestly thinking the same thing. I bet if we'd lived in the same era, we could've been wonderful friends.

Arthur ran his fingers over the pages. He smile was the bright and cheerful one of a little boy who'd just made a new friend.

Arthur: But even though we're separated by time, because they left this book behind, I can still read about them. I'm so happy I met this book. I'm so happy it chose me!

My heart felt as warm as Arthur's smile. One day, I would pass my Sage's Manual to someone else, too. I hope that the person who picks it up will smile that way as they read it, too.

Chloe: This is kinda making me want to start writing a book that'll end up in this store one day. Hey, what kinda things do all of you think you'd write?

Murr: Definitely about the moon, yeah?

Shylock: The only person who would ever want to write about that is you, dear. Surely there's only one crazy wizard who fell in love with the moon.

Murr: You think so? Love's a pretty vast thing, you know! So, Shylock, what would you write in your super secret book of secrets? Would it be all about me?

Shylock: Fufu… I'm sure I would write about all the things that catch my fancy.

Chloe: I think I'd want to leave behind my design sketches. I think it'd be nice if someone wanted to still make my clothes even when I'm gone.

Rustica: No matter how much time passes, your designs will always be able to move the hearts of those that see them. I am most certain that your book would become a world treasure.

Chloe: Ehehe… Thanks. What about you, Rustica? What would you want to leave behind?

Rustica: That's quite a difficult question. I'm not sure I'd be able to settle on a satisfactory answer very quickly. May I think on this while drinking tea? I'm sure I'll have an answer by moonrise.

Cain: Ahaha. I bet your book would end up equally refined and carefree. But I don't think I could come up with an answer to what I'd want to leave behind in the end that easily, either.

Riquet: That's very true. I am sure the me of the past would have written about the church. The proper way to be a wizard and the priest's words and such. But I'm sure that I'll have so, so, so many more things I'll want to write about in the future. I used to think I knew everything there was to the world… But now I've learned there's so much more to it than that. The more that I learn, the more I'll want to make sure is recorded for the future. I'm sure of it.

Arthur: I think…I'd want to leave behind everything I've written down in the journal Lord Oz gave me. Although I'd be just as happy simply writing a book on all of his cool points, too.

Oz: If you are writing something to leave behind, it should be about your own…

Cain: Oz's cool points! That's a good one! Since there's so much of him only you get to see, I bet it'd definitely be worth reading.

Arthur: Right?!

Riquet: What about you, Oz? Do you have anything you'd want to leave behind?

Oz: No… I have never put any thought into my turning to stone. Nor about what may happen afterwards.

Riquet: …Oz, I understand how you feel. When I think about how I will one day be no more, it frightens me. I feel very alone. But to reflect on one's passing means to reflect on one's way of life. I think you should put some thought into that too, Oz.

Oz: ……Am I being lectured on the nature of life right now? By a youth of only sixteen years…?

Murr: What about you, Master Sage? What would you write down in a book to be passed on to the next generation?

Akira: Me? Um~mm… Yeah, I definitely think it's gotta be what I've got written down in the Sage's Manual. I'd be happiest leaving behind a record of what I've learned about wizards and what I've experienced here.

Murr: A book about us! I'm super duper looking forward to reading a book all about us written by none other than you, Master Sage!

And so the party got merrier, just like that. Hugo's smile reached all the way to his ears while he listened to the wizards' very…individual ideas when it came to their books.

Arthur: It's so fun listening to everyone's ideas for what kind of book they'd want to write! And it's all thanks to this book for choosing me!

Rustica: <Amores Viesse>

Chloe: Wah, a violin! Rustica, what are you going to play?

Rustica: Something to celebrate Lord Arthur's fated encounter with this book. If you do not mind, sir?

Arthur: Of course not! Hugo, do you mind if he performs here?

Hugo: No, not at all…! Oh, but to imagine that one day I'd get to hear a performance by the one and only Eccentric Musician, Rustica with my own ears!

Cain: In that case, maybe I'll sing along. A party should be good 'n lively, right?

Riquet: I'd like to sing for Lord Arthur too! What about you, Master Sage?

Akira: I'll do my very best!

Rustica began playing a bright and buoyant melody, a song that contained the feelings we all shared for Arthur and his brand-new book. The Western wizards produced their own bells to play alongside him in rhythmical accompaniment, and Hugo rang his own as well. Oz didn't participate in our song. But as he watched Arthur with a warm look in his eyes, I could still tell he was participating in our celebration in his own, placid way.

Arthur: Everyone, thank you so much. Once again, I'd like to state just how happy I am to have received this book. Now I've got even more to write down in my own journal!

I'd have to write about today's little adventure in the Sage's Manual, too. I know that one day, I'll forget all about the people I've met here…but I know that someone else will read what I've left behind. The proof that they and I walked this path together is etched indelibly into these pages.

[milgram-tournament]

MILGRAM Best Song Tournament, Round 1, Match 2 BRING IT ON vs. AFTER PAIN

Propaganda for both options under the cut!

Propaganda for BRING IT ON:

"Reasons why Bring it On should win:

- Just by starting the song, the instrumentals are BANGER. Like his more rock style is very cool, even better than After Pain’s more mellow style - Arthur’s voice (Futa’s va) had bills due because have you HEARD his singing?? His raspier voice fits Futa so well - It feels so explosive and like a call to action in a sense, which very much matches Futa’s mentality during trial 1. He also wasn’t playing victim like a CERTAIN girl… (jk, love you mu!) - SAA HAJIMEYOU USOTSUKI KARIDA - UNDEAD HEROOOI YES SLAY KING HIS HIGH NOTE HERE IS HEAVENLY - His scream at the end. Oh my god. HE LITERALLY ATE THIS NOTE. AFTER PAIN COULD NEVER. BRING IT ON FTW 🔥🔥🔥" - His range goes WAAAAAY higher than Mu. She would end up like PHG if she even tried hitting any of his high notes in the last chorus /j

---

- The vocals are amazing, those growls are so well done - You’re able to get Fuuta’s crime and motive pretty succinctly, only based on the visuals - But it still leaves a lot up to interpretation, like how he only attacked once in the final fight scene. It lead to some cool theories. - On that note, the game aspects are so cool!! Especially when paired with him going after people online, just good synergy with awesome style! - Fuuta’s scared face after he realizes what he did. The great contrast of other foes simply being knocked out then being met with blood splatter. - The tempo of the song changing with his mood is a really good touch as well. Make the song more chaotic which highlights his character traits well

---

"propaganda for bring it on: the music FUCKS it genuinely slaps so hard listening to it. song style is incredible its perfect for fuutas personality and gamer vibes. also the way the mv frames everything as a game? the only time real blood and real gore happens being when killcheroy dies? the little details of all the usernames, the different monster designs, the generally distorted feel of everything being too lighthearted?

okay i could go on about the mv for hours but lets not. aside from that: the FEEL of the song!!! the vocals!!!! it really feels like fuuta putting his whole heart into it, into this point of view that both blows problems out of proportion and minimises them, and DEEPLY fucking up. my darling little hypocrite gamer boy twitter user. he makes his witch hunt genuinely sound like something that could sweep people up into it. also the instruments goddddd. the guitar and synth the bass and the drums the DRUMS. im relistening to it to write this propaganda and it keeps making me headbang when i should be writing. if you arent headbanging to bring it on you are LYING.

the way the lyrics are written is wonderful too!!!! they feel so brash and brave and powerful and like. cocky about it. and it fits PERFECTLY. its gets someone swept up into it and it FUCKS. vote bring it on im serious. lets go!! a victory march!! dan da dan!!"

Propaganda for AFTER PAIN:

"so here is why people should vote for AFTER PAIN !!"

Muu's vocals. Need I say more?

The bridge to it is absolutely wonderfully done, the way she softens her vocals to an almost creepy point is incredible

during the final chorus you can hear the desperation in her voice and it’s very well portrayed

The coloring in this music video were phenomenal

The overlapping vocals at the end of the song just have a really really nice effect

Its just a pure banger

In some parts of the song there’s the sound of a clock ticking in the background used as a sort of beatline… GENIUS??

Its just a banger

even with what we found out about Muu in her second trial, After Pain on its own portrayed bullying in a very realisitc and artistic way (from someone who deals with it regularly)

---

"After pain propoganda: She just girlbossed too close to the sun and happened to be holding a knife at the time"

---

"Gosh everything about After Pain... How can you NOT like it? It's literally such a good song and is very singable. The instrumentation is absolutely amazing and I've listened to it on loop so much."

[oumaheroes]

So i went to reread the three other oneshots you tagged in your recent of Gabriel leaving Arthur and Francis home but it doesn't make much sense

In the one of them at the party, at/towards the end you mention Alfred being caught by Antonio having "a lot of fun' meaning he was caught doing something naughty 👀

And then you mention Matthew hiding the good wine from Alfred, meaning they're AT LEAST 18 years old to be at this party, drinking and going into lewd acts with others.

But in the Marriage Counseling AU, they're both kiddos being told "your dad and i got into a fight" and how kids can tell that something is going on between their parents

Also.... Uhhh, just my own opinion about what Arthur's feelings... Uhhh

Is it Wrong that I really want Francis and Arthur to divorce?

I'm not sure what Arthur did that was bad aside from missing out on couples therapy, and him mentioning to Gilbert at the bar that he ALMOST fucked up, but catching or finding out your husband fucked some other person isn't something you can simply move on from, and if Arthur isn't ready to forgive or forget, and if he doesn't want to at all then thats a valid response from him. Lord knows i wouldn't but i guess he just loves Francis so much that he's willing to stay with him still, or maybe he's doing it for the kids like he tells Gilbert .

I'm also assuming maybe it's Antonio that Francis slept with, since they mention their absence when it's him and Gil at the bar drinking , like he had something to do with it.

Not sure, but yes, the whole au seems a little confusing now

Oh Anon, you speak such truths!

TLDR:

The Couples' Therapy AU exists in scattered parts and, as each part was written so far away from the parts before, the story has changed from the original design (where Al and Matt are Arthur and Francis' adult friends) to what they are in the next three installments- their children.

I've never revealed (aside to NeedCake hehe) what the storyline actually is, or what Arthur and Francis are actually fighting about or have done to each other. This is a secret for now and the stories posted are little flashes into it!

Rather than go back and edit the first part to fit, I'd rather write the whole thing out officially and prettily ;u; Thank you for your patience with me! I'm sorry things are a little confusing

Okay, long detail under the cut:

The Couples' Therapy AU originally started out with this. I had a vague idea of what I wanted but it was only going to give context to the -this was never meant to be anything more than a one shot! Arthur and Fran were a newly married couple sorting out some jealousy issues, Al and Matt are there but aren't related to them, and it was all going to be fine and dandy

And then Whumptober happened

Whumptober did things to me, Anon. I saw Day 2's prompt and the whole AU came back to me with a bang but this time, in my Whumptober fuled mania, it came back evil

From this point I fleshed the entire story out, each character's involvement, and then let it simmer. In this fic, listed as part three of Couples' Therapy, I kept the core idea of jealousy issues but redesigned the whole structure- Fran and Art are now a family, they've been married for years, but over those years cracks have begun to show and someone from Arthur's past comes along and inadvertently, innocently, steps on some fragile ground and breaks the whole things apart

The second listed part of Couples' Therapy then, written near the end of Whumptober, is the direct aftermath. What has happened has happened, everyone's hurt and split by it all, and we get a glimpse into what really went down

As for the truth of what happened, you'll have to wait and see. I've been waiting for the motivation to sit down and write the thing from the start but cake's birthday gift makes part number 4, which is chronologically the second story in teh timeline of events. It's about to kick off and we just need to watch it happen

'Is it Wrong that I really want Francis and Arthur to divorce?'

No it is not, they have done terrible things to each other

[heleizition]

eye emoji. who helps the lads with the kid... someone give able therapyyy we are handing out therapy to everyone. ev e r y o n e. but baby angel!! adopted siblings!!! lovely. i do like the song!! i only understood like one outta ten words but the v i be is off the charts, very good sounds. whats the... design type and shit. whats the difference between angel and demons? hows the theology work? what makes someone higher ranking and what makes noah the highest?

ok i dont have recent art of the characters i was thinking abt at all so bear with me. i have two ocs from my very very first oc group, arthur and maria, who were always the support team and i was thinking abt them,,, so im thinking theres a whole group of people who are angels, demons, but mostly who are out of that system, living in that purgatory space, and who abel and cain work with/helped out to get out in the past...

arthur was always the scientist/mechanic one ? so im thinking that. cain n abel see that jasper is unresponsive and they bring him to that little group to find whats wrong, if theres a way to fix him, or if he's really just... a messed up experiment who has no will of his own.

so jasper spent a lot of time w that little group !!! he has a whole family............................. sobs gently

ive thought abt angel a bit (im gonna keep calling them angel i think sobs). they live inside of jasper's body heart and soul, very long blond hair, little sunshine person, tries very hard to help jasper without him being able to hear him,,, they're also most likely blind. either from something before/how they were created or spending so much time as jasper's body. no lights in there.

design differences between angel and demons :

demons have horns, typical devil tails, and typical devil wings

angels have typical angel wings, lion like tails, and a halo that isnt always here but ! it appears !

they can both fly but it's a learned skill. lena is great at it but nell is SHIT at it lmao. angel would have very tiny useless wings bc they could never fly : ( babey

also all angels and demons have a power, a way to fight when they wake up... most times it's weapon summoning (knives for nell, bow and arrow for vik, sword for titania... the list goes on) but sometimes it mutates (eden for exemple w his healing. cody has a similar mutation but im not set on it. something that looks like white fire which could be an indication of who she is lol)

the theology and the hierarchy.............................. its veeeery vague for now . basically god communicates with the higher ranks of each sides. the war started forever ago for god's favors. at first god would help the side they liked most - never using their full power or smth, but giving little help here and there, a legendary weapon, a vision of what the other side was plotting... eventually god got bored of the war and left them to their own devices, each side thinking that they were waiting for one of them to win. so they kept on with the war.

the war in itself has been in a standstill for centuries. angels and demons both go on earth to achieve some things - helping or hurting someone mostly, depending or sides and orders - and it's usually where they end up seeing each other and trying to kill on sight. its a whole aspect i havent really explored yet, and also how vik and nell meet !

the hierarchy is more of a,,,,, typical political,,,, votes and stuff,,,,,,, there's a noah equivalent on the demon side but i havent really pushed that too much yet. in the end its ok if i dont figure out all those details because it's not what interests me until i have a an actual idea :]