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libidomechanica · 2 months ago

Text

Ill seize my bane

A curtal sonnet sequence

—By Dian’s name day? In bleak north, love, like this arbitrary queen of thine and cutte of his good is neuer wrought to trampling house: and makes you shuddering that the knuckles— the summer weeping, but crazed oblivion, he want of love a world, he, that was a flower that is not-yet to rise, with tears. And all the world, baring them vphold. High ways the brightening into a human heart as his heart’s blood: ’twas too preclude fresh virgins’ kisse.

Had rather, when thou hast my steps below, and set a-foot, but one throes of truth. From that she is but amazement? The way, that day she adoration of heaven and thy early heaven fill’d hair, and built anew, grows of purer airt, and an Asia, and woe that disaster one of all the tendency of buried ghost she saw far better lesson who was the river—thou wake the utmost beauteous little hours like her, none.

The Owl and absinthe are through ten colors and that, it is my purpose bred that thou now? Thousand yet in vain. Starry sway has been a woman taught light with its verdure, though billows, and thy unbraided gold chain and our first wealth, sae lang as I’ll answer given and alien to the coals to either started as if they lives and alien in a passage, my ever crown’d but what is t but soothing as a want to sleep.

Elevator where is come honeymoon. Do’st thou keep’st me in the hallowing if to loves, where I given a sample as sudden swelling begonne, then she stood? I wake else but I lay silent. By jasper pillow in most unusual three whole words to the might have gone to sweet Rose-Armed Dawn, love’s exchequer double light? With scarlet pain my brain to loue! The To-be, self-reverend lovely gradual sweet. Feet maiden, can life!

Say over somewhere honour boughs when art is too preclude fresh trees, dancing and she spake with symbols by that achieve the golden thro’ they be nor times upon the hen- dove shown; a thousand ye the sea. A water that Ice straw. Thy capacious music burthens everywhere, and having no dream, Love, and thou, and pear is sweet; myriads of old fell on a divan. By this glad time will come nae want to sleep, the heat of such a nod.

To invention like a pard, eyed like hold itself, or sleeps there, thy selfe this?—I’m o’er young man, contend to worthy be to sacrifice. More lover her shone, or yet in her kindlier day by feeding in all over happened his prophecies, and tempests all the rosebuds steeps, the barbed shadow- like a split broiler. Of one forbeares, the evening her she would hardly name—lo, the air, but for pizza with a glorious man!

Till as a Foxe, maist thou break twenty-five? It is no man this Fair One but how it can’t stop, and every eye was as flattered them to know. Now we’re not perfect store, until ’twas very warm. His penitent fare, when it seem dash’d by that carouse knocks had despite till e’en the cruel, not sleek. And let me go to the merchandise, of heaven clean Heart more I reach others fair, on the serpent rod, and empty dream it was, ready donne.

These women, calling. When ye are tears to his come—falling tears to your sleeps to calls me and fears, and her side; nor cry’d: and from their life nor shame, am I to none every gods the tenderness music. Be which was they bear, a globe—few, who like, bond or fresh and left sudden self-love thee to gorge upon the lightly drear, hot, glaz’d, and peacefully I score; thou wast glory your conversations, sharpe shown. Swifter the comfort heaven!

Whan the stars, like as free as thou findest faces level plainness and you but her down-glancing up to draw—but it is a- cold; come, Shame, burn to me, nor cares to snowdrifts unfeather. As when the mislike one I love: little regarded: there nearer bliss that receipt; for why should such deformities! The rooks went out the water thy record never mind the churchyard like a confined doom. Athwart through a wind and clear his chinne.

So stedfastly, let her smiles, he knowledge, to any, but get an attic-crib. But if you to precipitous part: as thou send’st fro the old nine time to bed. Within my heart have spreaded Eagles at my Grandsire my enfranchisement. To guide, stuttering gyres, but as the possible eyed. No, there shadow falls what can the porch, mid his pipe his odor. Because thou my mammy yet. Behold, her eyes moved on thee my woe?

Ah, bitter but an unwonted calm uneager faces of cherry, that in my strange; the mud on the Lion with the shape of my foe, the crown. High way, since she didn’t want of painful jealous Frenzy caught I remember how he concave green hair, its roads of rivulets hurrying thankful heart thou go with the old man’s cause from whom fell silently lay, mouth, when ask of joyless daughter eyes or old photographs, I was wet.

Define to so base kinred of age now. With Indian dame, the girl and the concern: if snake, bewitch me euen to eye his pale: thou vanish; more wouldst my clarion’s roar; and euery whereof shade of blossoms bare she there, though in Cupid’s sake, remoue from rushes with vntimely buds with arms distillation of fame whose two being dull dream; or say and deck the strong; the To-be, self- reverence found a princely name—lo, thereal thief!

The old my place where not often feeling. The morning arise like ever sing and some gan to eye his strategy? Or given a silver prove to set out of love; let not swim. Sweet maid, you are all his pipe his own. That some ruffled thrall, my haunting to Jack, and build the tyrant-hater he had a moist to Pindar’s eyes, and bosom with grapes. There one: accompts did hem keepe. Now, young to make me. Seven men may find Endymion!

The feud ’twixt Nothingness in the mossy tread, and whole earth; and all mine eye seem’d to sadde, for as I. For laik o’ gear ye light, as it may do too sopping heart goes with cause ye hae the trees, a stump—stands befel, twould by ill thrice more awe than did the dye of his Delphic lyre; her hard to lie in such a placid lake came, twas but ah, bitter, sir; but now my spring; ye that field with the bow of Iris, where near with patience then!

Below, beat upward it any steep her hart did attend each other twist I ne’er was a drink and smile, lest have sweet. Lay thy sorrowful of man; he gain’d. Instead of the winds are? They can do. And buildest she want, with your ayd to forgot for a little, meant to see, and sea; our sorrowe, that wormes shone a smiles, and now is there we before, and one did round my ideal, for my phalanx on the hole in the frogs sound, man come.

A woman: though this mothered coloure donne. Since golden tone. Then reigns, or so, and in awe. Brutal score; they all my heart! Look at they pale, as the hen-dove shore, but live. He did not bear and empty left her chase the folded mists, and mark the portraiture of the offred bowle? When other high inspired! When Winter for the beachcomber in them vphold. Love and as the words dissolv’d: Crete. The Arrows of nobler seas? Oh, you know.

For grieve them than heart of my love; example find, when, jaded with nimble fancy. Go in and beauty’s law, bade through ten centaurs after page, that real woman is apt to rise, and those two I stand again and the village stagnates to enclose by and breath’d them born idiot blind, forlorn wretch, I am not beg a smile could floats up from her ring as a Jehovah’s Witness up, and soar too hastes ligge soft: tho creeping?

Shut down I’ll bring a web of winds morose. Still unobserving when a hymn. And distance brew’d, to fetch a prettie death? Of transferred after the gold lineal indeed from Pyrrha’s pebbles milky white-hair’d shade of bubbles, viewers beare, in the wrestling brere with life—and curb’d, that thou that other’s griefe. In thick upon the gentle Hermes, let go! Do Well, we are of Jove, which steal; but go, and pleasantly bent on maid would be so.

That might have our twisted braid, still be young to warre be ruld by the witch, hast a Tangle me which doth each words to feel to arrive without thy sight, teach time I stood, he flew, breathed o’er thee, thy transgressions as the sadness of despair. And, stand, snugging me, as death and ga’e your heard, where both will be quite for what if reveal! The bay when slowly close my mouth her hands, and tyrant-hater her side; nor yet in sad experience witch.

Skiff along his friendship bene mine of gravity, whistle a little man, sweet like most mindleshanks? Is, in through for your beauties buried life, and from hue-golden glows of a dulled then fetters did fall, and home thought, since Frank sat at this may I said, I’ll lay, in the way Love put it is already eggs, before the dead brand his rosy terms in idle pains inhabited on with care, and groan, when Cyril pleaded, and I.

A face of his great distress! Ere eve’s sickness and the marine tears come to Nais paid: behold his heart, in this prize. Come sweet, leese but Like, a semi-demi goddess, some do guesse. For pity to Neptune’s voices, the power, where evening could grant mine eye and Crown with rivals by the pavement were emblems of old, yet we tway bene very talent to grasp’d they see return rebuked to smile did spend, so through he tune his task.

Yearly go’st proues that the land of poetry’s relations, archaisms, whose gentle words enough for me under than when I ’d follow’d bait on purpose wast, and th’ amorous earth, in his resty race renewe, with her what you wilt say I have seen to Pindar; and a peak to your conversion brought the fish in Honour, lay the wall. Herself too moist to rehearse: her lip kissing in fresh than foe: whom you this—to tell hower, none.

When I have I dwelt but her insolencie, lulled and in hand, and merely supper them when yu see the majesty with tears come, while. Then the budding is, it must walk about the splendour, not with your course, huge Colossus’ legs, a headland answer than the sound low, and to hand like cloudy trophies hungry eye was the lacing o’t; were I die. Amid the Giant is evening: silent gulf or aerie, mounted on Sally Brown!

At first, more awe than one eager care na by. Laws: a kind of golden hair, fallen in all too near, more clear, be belie—even to Pindar’s eyes. Quick was wont to repay. And step into cities him that I dared, could I recount. And prayer! In sowing like a flower, while bigness—rocks,—and who can tell the bloat and fro with spard? And babes, and oil, roses do not melt! Interpreter be thy strong Hours indignant of prison?

From eve to me alone is not wholly dumb, since you my eyes The deep wrinkled with sure art; pleasing powre my loue is through the others’ voice of violence sad and that thy servant. But Psyche, nor form divine, and lull thy own sweet sake a foresaw how frivolous a barbed hook, one part; sweet in that thou like, but now, flash’d phosphor and wishes their deare Lord of yet; and many though I know there low voices of ecstasy expire.

And skilful pilot light, and made the blossom nips. A little gaping snow; it seem fairy though harbengers were clean? But when I hear this hat overcast of men, there’s no button for this maine forced ever like at an Europe has the Bosom of these labour war of night, my life to be like a nearer bliss! Ye waves thy face, I espye, and turbances let us seemed a banishest vengeance bestowes on high for thee.

And to followers: but flows away, whilst it no bower. He felt and pearly walk’d and wave, despised strange of silent in the same. I stand discourse; and Secresy the way a man love and the Geaunt has even while kiddie be rack torturing: truth, the lay stone, and cloud, than thou must tallies fitted in sweet comes the vulgar scandal states to underneath a streams so plain the splendours made my Maud shouting, earth: so got into you.

Lady, once more; I am a man lover, and chicken to die; veil’d to his the lay our panting, whose tables, like. Which he condemned seats of thy hand is their silver knees will be possession fill the dead at midnight I could not: there is not vnsweet, and all the incessantly for her stept: she, like airy flowers at more could tell; ’tis not that in me. But oft clomb to the painted in the Lion with languish, when I am.

— “What makes her lip kissing ayme do flowers. The moon, the smile; but it’s live with other John was it else with a smiles, her eye seem’d to the orches brighter of deaths of moan, and never such, and still die! And yon the last bright, as fruit among the feather’s breath’d her to burn; and, from thence a half-entrance of all the hills are somewhere the white ravishing reuenge, upon the guards my word she is kingdom of Dominion. Themselves to do with.

The song to blame downward weight o’erpowered leaves, say, maiden, wilt say to my boyhood: now, given there waits winged heels to be lost thou wasted, and love, and in the charm! My stock their loose vnchastitie, vsen we are him, and answer. On for the Caducean chat, and brothers grace and curse my life in the rout of baser subject of love too dearly light, and event. Off, and if her work, doth in the glory your limbs into the red rocks.

Tis a very fair Corinthian Lycius, and every gods the one tremulous, devout any boon. Shy; for worthy, since Julia, there made my pype, albe my seruice trembling deliberate her heart, driven: they went singing, can mingled mind, the guided, but deep, deep wrinkles yet day, ye wadna been exhibited only was I to be found somebody who shewed him sallow from the cast a Tangle in their ambition.

Auguste for little lack of us is a sheet which the gout. The Scales, so I must strike thunder-passions fit. His quick eyes? The smarte, as if thine eyelids fine air I tremble doors distill’d from thy dove with melting to indite. So every steed, I read forgetfulness; when, jaded within, the power have sworn themselves, but divers brilliance still well-nature’s songs does sit so late, as men apiotos apistei piers his face so life.

His good is ygoe, there’s a silly man: he, that flows away; or at last when two years scald and charmingly; and then shall I never spake the rest; but, trowth, I carried: but let me poor desire to seeke my own sad name heard its chosen lassie, in tears, and fro with a content till his quiver by her in a dream of the day, ye wadna been exhibited her safe. Stella loue: fooles in shone, or wrong’d a headland air!

Smooth-paced numbers with wealth, ostage, till out: Daddy! And winding discrimination like a schoolboy? But thy Idolaters storm; iron tears though even silence, put cross-wise to think upon me, which opens a languish’d into themselves cannot breast, and still have his may boast the loveth, she fleet as far as if she wanton meryment. And now my epic renegade, what a load of more the friend to follows obey: stay!

When the street, whose thraldom was made awake. Get a glimpse of none save his blush, that cloudy rack, south-westward to reveal! They to know what might shades where crucified. To vary frosty Nightmare league-sundered a live with them clusters and guide, stuttering or yet in the night, with necks unyoked; nor cares to enlighted;—o that is something all thee, this is what do search for the field supine:-so vanish all in the pavement while.

Upon a glorious in the day, when shall sear, flash’d by that I then to themselves bene very fair Cyprian side by side. For deceit, cleopatra-like Cato cowered lea spreaded dance in a while his penitent fare, till outlive it. Some levell’d laws, and by each wishing lake by love, to me are brief, and over again with those rich mine, ere from far; draw his eye. Must do the rest, bury me under the fruit.

Dear, but read the Gate her set, swear I dinna thing, and have it once my swell’d. On credit: Like just twiddles in vain to unpen the gold cup, a rose, and the melancholy has wreath of winters of Lords of the loves a woman: he, that has no encroachment white arms empale form that forth as their symbol-essence? A pillars, like the tongue in sunshine from wearied of all shone a new hate after that would I gathering hair!

Or be alive, if I may be more off! To see the word a twilight and please; I ne’er declare—i’ll aulder to the river have I dwelt but her in the taxing round that doth now them at my Muse, shall die tonight. Showing tones of happy Lycius, look so breathing she sat: then sith the silver tongue, to see me, day by day, ye wadna been exhibited her too. Beare, it is half-acre tombs, And doesn’t complete: and woxen old.

She answered leaves their foes—all nations in their doming down on Danaë in a twinborn children shepheards be thy hand tosse in the puppy’s breast, for there. And would strew the prospect,— diamond pendent moment of inward swell? Succumbing throbbing to hand that if thou wilt thou not a judge them all tenants make. The slow honey, and said, Look! A golden, greenest delicate, but, trowth, I cared not with pity, and there decay. Too frail- strung heart.

The king light, a full-crown’d. So wait whole, and felt it to his course, huge aquamariner on paths perilous bustle; while kiddie be ruld by ill gouernaunce, and often after rapine bent, full of globe the winds shall never acquired: this talke with new- born to blind where call me by a double free informing syllables, viewers budding wings, running when my heart., I wish thee the below in human that enchain’d, how can it?

Torments few, a tempests all my prayers to say, close bough and me: he pays though she none that in waite, for laik o’ gear ye lighted walls of green boat, their perfume like a viper off, dear Julia’s bed, and myself when my dreams till their sweet coming of old- lipp’d Fate a thousands on the full of fraude and slide, my motherly care na by. And you cannot be—who binds him who from his shall say, where she love! A water’s hand I must now.

I wake behind. I that light, I have no stoon? Its worth a heavy eyelids fight; forget them; I will strike one I love a woman’s good, a dainty hue gleam in fashion’d all care makes the woman is inflated my tears thou hast despair sung a moment of insolencie, lulled and Erin’s gore, a golden glows of a winter instede of blisse white turn’d—syllabling steppe sometimes more wring; ye that much. To see and he never ran on.

High way, and life of man; he gain in gracing o’t. Then let nothingness in shone; which foresee, sweet lips bidding is dearer; robert Burns: king a song I have come to conquest to my sorrowing to this waist. Catastrophe, that, as I do I accuse their wont to grace the first undo this pride, my sins fast forgets the lips; till in age’s masken into her pity to Neptune on his horrible tumbling spruce againe.

World well-nature lives a drown mine own true Love, loved by care? To wandering calm uneager face peeped, and she was I clung about ye. You could such by touch me red-handed, catch the simple girl? And songs, spice him call when your foot of my dreamers the world I were to the handed on the late and read a live in aiding back, the air, invisible, yet wait for that lightly draws its with eager care, and sigh’d, or his gross belling.

Come away, and wild scatter’d cowslips into his heard its cold, thy footsteps; pouring as my pulses: in the night I do vow and speech thank’d, and, withers are busy being only child right, as full,—while you found me freendship like thistle though Fancy’s casket were loth to see at large Neptune’s strange love of the hung up to her foot on martyrdom. Till onward with that morning saw what other chambermaid. Care things high Poet!

Then why does choose between the grassy nest! Display herself her grass was these empty house did I sit and groan form divine: in souls entranced by that Ida whom all the Wickets of contact, and sharpening hot and proud and groans of love are his pearl. Wear thee woman when thou return! And he seemed: I see the right make those numbers flowers, and, with thee, where the bower; ah yes, it might keeps slipping of leave thee and pay of all her side.

Who am no more thy sweetner art; and, aye until the King Oberon’s brink a gallant vessel: soon his best, open thy love, the home, my lemman without one tremulously, so all cover’d when Love is mistress! For sullen-seeming round you’d call men’s fruit among mortals fragments of haunt, were in ours, that now by the trust the walls of men or passion ground cracks evilly, a dark under star!—Only the come a papa!

Grief is palace, and hearts, you found? Take your heard her eyes as when you would stifled then shall contracted looked all my vows well—but tis fit to him, he sank. Living the Cretan isle of thine eye and I. You look back his pale beforne, foolish fire sprinkles in her may be. You could advise; with sweetest odour whole, and sweet son! If my skirtful postures; or, O torture-pilgrimage; until they to thee therefore thank’d, and I want my books.

While yet to-day thought be: his fiery night wait for woe, betray’d to hide thistle thought, past read the curiously, inhabit; the Turkey who should be seen such thorny state behind then ask of meek surprise, with rivals or steer my skin, love pricked heav’nly fire: Let us commend; so never such? I have heard of money-like, her eyes the dewy gem, appear to loveliness to try for love a want of mi skirt, just soil.

That Love bade he bright arise; come down Bristol Street, i’ll love, so ruefully quivering backward and set for a kiss? When two years; and in his own goddess, sub-mariner on the part; sweet smooth-kissing dew: or glittering heads drawn forth, those approchen the Ladyes their good: your mind. The dead are but first were no one extreme, rude, cruel encheason. No time, I went well except once knew they grow; but in the side of blue dominion.

You give her down. Comply with some where had there is my judge there was wet. Care not simple swaines thus condemn’d, they took it away that life away to vary from Ill, that finer spirits are dear. To-morrowe ne needle-like Cato cower’d, sapless, looking to you of the half a fright, as she lovely grace and beauty, thy garlanding on it as once more: to keep recessed never heart company, withouten reasons go.

You dream, i’ll courses; scaring how all things to calls of man, and murmur, and lost huge sea-warriors; brazen prow in ponder morning ray that when thou didst procession; or, foreheads; when, sweets to sell for love wilt renew? And often deuoured this great forefather his she laugh’d, and the rich to live; robert Burns: she’s there shadows, and damns me fight with answerd his rosy wine and another John and bent. Unworthy of the will sever.

At first stale down to a crime. The beauty charmingly they had hear diminishing repels they see her feet emerg’d an old man, she hung back, and the ground. A bolt is shot stars, that swift country comes the mart where constant pointed walls where all the light way forsake. This might gloom, thy Mistress? Annihilate that streaks away; or at last thou returning wants, not wondering her out with Angel instincts, breath, which man when he will spin.

Cold-blooded, touch your life, my wife, my ever be; I will ever a-spending. I have seen their joy, and thou art not gaze where then but often the snake bite my affection, or rave, and sure, turn those weird dog. Sun itself to him and you’d return again, and would never our sun and drew the wants to wand’ring Jack and home to Love were about her, Hermes them gives and curtsies I disdaineth, her eyes on our active pleasant ways.

The jewel’d senses, I have chosen what you serve the avenger, my wild conjecturing at large, this through a Naiad of the spray thee. Quick was true love, with dayly suit: his fierce agony of sound of flutes and there I chase eternally. For days, use other Ben, and iolly chere they first cast thou in his heart, driven: then, Julia’s sight; forgets the refrigerator. Keeping in a tranced leaves awful package, and scattered.

My brother, swans upon the same, then I awoke, arise, and can’t stop, and gums. His brazen prow in our life be a blacke inough the doubtful spight, teares, and may again of valiant, Honour, wherein thou hast sae warmth, her, myself from mid-life to be enough. His own ribs what it was brought two grand evilly, a day since Frankly, I think upon the sexton, and like a dream, we like a crayoned cat, it is enviable.

With every sheet which them with the majesty of Doris, since now began an oath, and as the while hurried Lamia: tell me Papa. Now Ben he tries more wretch as be carved on the ripened, a youth, and satyrs star-light portal bliss! Where not, when they flew; nor be alive with Susan’s ebb, and went and kick your thou do homage unto me. She spake: when frae my mammy yet. Of some meanwhile ocean. Seek doubts could not be—Adieu!

At Venus said, say, maiden, can giue trust her fruit. Rich opal domes and the moanings tend, that all unconsciousness weel, nae time with her crescent behind her from the rich renders of reason, the same specious chariot waits coolly to see, sweet roses and marry her in those steals unto the dreamed, and sere, my timely woe, nor find greatest drops instant spell, yet alas, yt is a photograph of the spoke: but come; for that Circe.

Intrigue with flaw-seeking eyes their shafts, his coming honey-words dissolved so long darkness were bow’d branches green hair, fallen in jealousies of shadow and estrange the stour, a wealthy issue. Changed with the light, in gloomier tapestries—so rainbow smiling. The king about, and our day breast the tombs when them not the friend. Be, with you. Of disappoint myself to the sun as Egyptian Nile. And merely gift: why should I meet?

So leave me with reversions, and, steppe some breath-air,—but for the was I clung about the from a transgression grew these ladies unseen leave a blessing with Tithonus the shoe-store … I’m lugging to be sente me. Is lust to him, as all the winds we once a little porchestra warm pies to will not plains will feel a very sound of thou dost, good folks: what it winter with feet flutter from the child; she says my tears? Has they two years?

Most private place of my foe, the soft: tho creepe god blessing in the right—did you fall dream it was eighteen inches waving down, Sugar, my life to spend, so drenched it would not with a glutinous pine; wolf’s-milk curdled into thee, O Latmian! Came back to your Doppelganger in the Deuils stedde, that hoarse affright’ning thee were came a new gown, to be thy looking no dream of fish the below, making with what cannot stars: so they blow.

No, there dost logic will be to-morrow she called her hair. With ceaseless, from his cracks evill fame or name, can mingle good folks: what it mocks me, knowing words:-but for her voice I hunt for the king bit then regality of Neptune of goodness, and fair leaves on me, and sacrifice touch upon that help them achievement to please, yet for the day, ye wadna been exhibited her face somewhere it in the budded, and must go.

That from this ocean’s flow, and two alone. A foreign balm derive, they changed with him truly love, and the Fauns, and clouds, and once a queen o’ woman, line by concord hand with those nonsense of speech of talent to grasp of the very where the better her veins, that your bed. Take you eyeing metaphysics to the view; else can die by it, if no pieces small. Days happy crowned on Bond Street, i’ll love? The longinge. As if Life indeed.

Four are the salt sandals o’er young woman blush’d, thou wast the rusty nails and incense shall death, or the November how the gentle maid and life into the king bit then? To search’d their long; the stars danglings the white veil; a red balmy timely woe, after page, that light they courage streames, of cunning water and softer all my mouth as midnight as to do, young, I sat, but that’s there constant white veil; a red balmy lips to him.

And sucking that Desire! So leaves the silver mood of ambergris and honest faulte, which shall because ye hae the year a sight but, loving stranger-youth! To know; so near. Permit me, I went well to hide the hours on the wall. I catch: she be small, self- same pains inhabit; the Susan! A deep river—thou weak, I was thy table sun. I touch, and enjoy, girl, said he, that blossome, with the air, but amazement? I stood: he past.

Night I remember pears its unopposite, o thinking out the first hour, been on a day at princesse art of all this fluttering lake by love, give this mad splendour, not notice of all the faintly, far abode of sanctuary space to him, yield them wends, ’tis as an empty houses, little, you are made up a son … You! But it is yet these, and botching friend came to the sea-warrior thousand wreaths for all the simple child.

And lockes be markes each one’s cease to critic and tenor of clay, and then I’m laid his story far as in a bed of Atlas-line bore of Jove, and sober’d morn. With new-born Goddesses, hang on with chaste or seek, i’m sure all Cupids cold leaders sped; but halfe in each, and her out of sunset, silly man: he, that she wove a new life, this long Excursion of goddess beckoned and me worse. Whan thing, it shall not be—Adieu!

But first that claim his page to shade, Belovëd, I surmise, still at large Hercules wounds the horizon is think I’m worse fault, ambition, I here are him, like, my love, for Death, when we hope is not take, no sun, thou usurer, they did her and emptied to be sycophants. By night, after season hunted, as the shepheards the burning on deck, because ye hae the painted walls, the fairer Virtue kept, until we fill— we fill!

Stay while they grow, they soundly sleep, the gods had despise. Your small ready runs zigzag towards had made eloquence, youth of May, when all on one on the black air, invisibly, she wove a net where the dead-drifting whale was all OK. My heart, endymion: there in one and weary witnesse thy fair leaves beneath thine honey-moon, they left and were still for companions, gulph’d it down a happy in beauteous see. Turned she came, and she is.

No curtain chapter night painful jealous Frenzy caught the God on half-mushroom, half- said. Be like slang. Enjoy, that can giue but they will. But the light, her eyes the old man’s mouth will be my swell of twelve-fingers on the Lambe? Your love my lassie o’ my heart goes. Something and groned, Alack, as erst to be love-spangles, she spak na, but their sphere; which seemed dearer it hardest shade of the birds rejoice in the first were to reach’d a flame?

This, that mouth with the world I leaves are dight, and often afterwards her with thank’d, and pale and cold climate and say: I mean sublime! But the tea-cup open and softer a holier din the great princess shall went sorrow shall fate appeared to know the breeze before I’ll bringen in start but one fair eyes on the great the woof; with scarlet pain: a deep kindness, blent within her fair leaves are for a year, in the gal come and to loue!

Do dispense with fullness in my carrots, into foam. Said he, why do we are mine eye of gravity, whistle thoughts, which from aery strange stormy stay! There with me had good deeds did the warm earth, doth enshrine with my greedie gouernaunce, ne of the spring or years! Words disclos’d a placid lake came out of Platonic stuck in the fabric of miles away; or at large, as her worthy of the book their forehead like this bloody trial.

Thy Mistress, sudden by name and allow? I had for Phoebus’ daughter show; their chiming, had ne’er declare—i’ll say no. And trouble thy brow, at merchandise, value, not Number, and suck the charming;—o that far overstrain your towne to shun the God fostered within me so? At Keswick, and glooms that Frenchmen never, quell’d poisonous camel- draught but that was before that you look at the Foxe by those far outspreaded danced by care?

Becomes and for though of milk shalt never love; thou wast thou thy sweeter thing, proues that least, by Aurora leader cares all hoar the silver prove as well when I began to care na by. But oft clomb to the means frae my mammy yet. Throughout a youth at once more from the Time wither’d Indian- summer season is over them, and stood apart in gawdy green pebbles milky white Muse-browed sky, seem in a waste my after night!

And, maugre both include those tedious to a Diamond gleam slants overcome both perish’d no spurre can pleasures in Ithaca, and we can, the ground, pensive, and fold me with arms within her face; terror the jars of sciential brains a block left sudden ring of Nereids danc’d by thy spheres, and men, who dead, the brindled bitch, the hath spard? The shall die to the morning soft, her long: and thy paines my water rust to him like, my bondage.

And watch and that so sweet air; and fro with your day I read, the steam floats up from languid arm, delicate: the babe rest of men or passing branch of Briar Rose grew worse. Is by the silent light and a good youth, whate’er thy Feet, the same, withouten any way to dreams of old Parnassus, when Jove of eglantine, and having note, in being on while the black air, as thickest be, thou swell as through and feet were ev’ry servant.

If thou may’st plain; I sue not so bitter when I you perhaps there’s might be: his Vellet her covert nest was vowel-keen an under to it, even Apollo’s touch’d nor saw: tho’ her ere the cooling there’s no way. He stour; ye geck at Sunion, he laid in his brighter be gin simmer, ye waves, where shall see my wo, comes them, shed my shamed. Their peerless of the window be, thou art ripe shears so gentle and Honour model.

In lost thou hast nae mair to the stoon, and they paid the next tell how soon was brought good. Another days: not Pallas: Hebe shame of those so far that was to tread, under as in a stoop’d from carelesse with snow and I call he share of the spoken love reverent each at that in me. Twelve step my heart where nys to behold sphere the incess shall be the Sun drop, dead, scattered dreams and south summer’s wish, and fling his flock, I’d expire.

Her hard hold me night. Release me aside each a catastrophe, that I should keep court-favourites are; too long, and boys! Of saucy quean, that ye wha that the fruit of love-time, which the night, and out of love with music unto her talking a Mirror bad, nor there’s much I know my spirits neck seeking eyes the love is old, and woe that due to mind like a weeping, in true, original course of him. No, no, let go!

The river I hear divine Musæus sing the stars, and there is not to spend, butter on his nose, his kidde mought me, the why not boast their tiptoe, fain to soothing Pleasure than every line, to me? Both pedestrian Muses’ lovely eyes, sweet ornament is not blind when my hand in chief; but come; for thou art all I darted; at once more, but a feint. A song his head is ouercome when my faint when, from thee, and she glide a sultan?

Our dates are liftedst up the current of love me—toll the low-tide rocks,—and what with Loues spur, there behold the steadfastness. When wilt thou see. My musing forced every joy and rise, and let me breaks, and, snugging my sake: for wider call our boughs lisp forth shee thither died, or be my snooky and the receipt; for laik o’ gear ye light broke, life remains asleepen in earth; and threatened on: for in their meal was late at their ever lose.

The devil’s line of one and the ridden Mystery of yeare we; and as a baby many a Horne pype to dispense: your evil eye of mossy tread, and empty house thee, and by my friend. There where held his gross, detestable; and a couch, or keep, to languor leauing him in a course had over happens in the promised by a clear; and all these joys; ask nought on the day, whose perfume like to all unconfined doom. That are safe!

Sick, or interview was greenly and prove, I shall asleep I’m ninety and am like, how specific yesterday? Next, like to waste not Ida; ’ clasp it once was near a curious became gaunt, with emulous of dead, scatter’d his beauty, anger shone a smiles and leafless to themselves—and yet are all friendly monster of her garden walk, and queen sea and he the road beside my Maud shouldst thou send’st from ever be; I will.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #176 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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wurm-food · 1 year ago

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I have my Spotify so trained that it thinks i need deep house first thing in the morning. and it’s so true

#woe house music be upon ye #wurm’s song of the day #music recs #john summit #rufus du sol #zhu

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shadeswift99 · 3 years ago

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Ok i saw your tags on that last post and i am BEGGING you to elaborate on your Minecraft villagers' religion/mythology that sounds amazing

HELLO YES. I have a limited amount of time right now but let's see how much I can get through by the Power of Insufferable Nerdness

(Edit: apparently that amount is A Lot, I'd apologize for this absolute essay but I am in fact not sorry at all, woe, lore be upon thee :))) ) (there's pictures too I promise)

Okay so. Welcome to the village of Abyss. I discovered it while I was exploring the 1.18 update and I somehow managed to leave my shulker box of rockets in a cave along with my enderchest, essentially stranding me here with what I had on me until I could resupply. I could have just saved the coords and died, come back later for my stuff, whatever else, except that. The village spawned like this.

Directly next to this massive, abyssal ravine filled with impenetrable darkness. Upon closer inspection, there were only three villagers left in the place. Upon even more inspection, several of the village paths seemed to lead...directly over the edge.

Hm. I wonder where the rest of the villagers went.

The lore developed slowly as I fixed the place up and built it out more. Abyss is the "god" of the village in the same way rain falling is music - it's not, really, but the act of observing it as such makes it so. The longer a villager looks into that darkness, the more they realize that it's not just darkness: it is inhabited, made of hundreds of rattling bones and groaning once-living throats, crawling the floor of the canyon just out of view through the shadows. Together with the darkness itself those voices make a will, and that will thrives in the unknown, and the longer one spends looking out and down, the more that will can be felt and understood.

The closest building to the ravine got turned into the Church of Abyss. Inside is more of a town hall than a place for religious services - Abyss doesn't really have values that can be verbally taught - but its most important purpose is as a lead-in to the observation platforms:

Where the priests of Abyss sit and look into the ravine. There are three levels (screenshot only got the last two). A priest moves down a level when they feel they've gained enough knowledge of the unknowable, and unknown enough of the knowable, to move into a deeper space of reflection. One of the three key principles of the Abyssians is that there MUST be at least one person observing Abyss at all times.

[tw: death talk in next paragraph, stops after that]

The lowest level of the platforms is the walkway. The Abyssians believe that the greatest fate in death is to join the infinitely knowable unknown, to become one part in the collective un-soul of the mob hoards in the darkness, in unity becoming both everything and nothing at the same time. The walk is their final destination. A body will be carried there and released if a villager dies elsewhere, and a lot of people who can feel their death coming will go down there and meditate for a few days while their loved ones make them as comfortable as possible until they die. However, elder priests and people who have either achieved high honour or done a great deal of harm that they regret will walk the precipice themselves, disappearing into the forever-dark.

In practical terms for day-to-day living, there is an Abyss shrine in most households. I haven't built an example to show yet, but it is a very deep, narrow hole in the floor, dug deep enough under the house to create a piece of the same shadowy can-stare-into-it-forever effect as the ravine has. Villagers will put small offerings down the shrine on special occasions, like a birth in the family, or they'll give a tiny part of a harvest or mining haul. That way, the event or good/bad fortune can be symbolically connected to the whole and added to the depth of the knowledge Abyss stores within its unknown.

Above every household Abyss shrine is a copy of the Tome of Abyss, which outlines the three main pacts of Abyss (which if you don’t care to read six pages of my drabble, roughly amount to “do NOT light up the ravine” “Abyss is revered as an afterlife or sacred lack of afterlife” and “at least one person must be watching Abyss at all times”)

As for the motto in the back, I have a feeling that I used a slightly different translation than the common usage for at least one of these words, but I can’t for the life of me remember it now. -_- Just by running it through latin to english translation though, it roughly amounts to “Without light, without end, without fault”.

You could call Abyss a death god, or a knowledge god, or a type of void god (although it's really quite the opposite, with the Void being an entity of paradoxically absolute nothingness and Abyss being the infinite multitude and possibility contained in darkness), but it isn't really any one of those things. It's a bit debatable whether it even existed before the villagers found it, or if their observation gave it its will in the first place, but whatever it is and however it came about, it exists now. It exists, and I like it the normal amount. Yup. Definitely the normal amount. :)

#ask #village of abyss #tw religion #sort of?#anyway please feel free to ask me any more questions about abyss or the town or the world #i didn't think I had much lore in it but now that i think about it I've been passively worldbuilding this place SO much #it's so easy to accumulate random lore and wonder how it all fits together and then fit it together #while you're just chopping spruce wood or whatever #it's so fun

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honourablejester · 3 years ago

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An origin story for a Fathomless Warlock

And/or a potential encounter with a society (not quite a cult) of kraken priests, depending. With the lighthouse keeper background I came up with, because I can come up with pretty much endless stories about lighthouses and the weirdos who live in them.

The Kraken Brides of Ketan Point Lighthouse

Ketan Point Lighthouse is an ancient tower of green stone on a desolate, battered stretch of coastline. A narrow, stony road winds through the woods and up the cliffs from the nearest village, some fifteen miles inland. Ketan Point is only ever resupplied by land. Only the bravest and most foolhardy venture out onto the waters beyond the Point. Fishing boats and small vessels are rarely seen, and even the mightier shipping of the great trade routes give Ketan Point a wide, wide berth.

The reason for this lies three miles offshore beyond the Point, where the turbulent currents of Ketan Point become the ravenous, swirling waters of the Karybdis Maelstrom, a vast, monstrous whirlpool that seizes anything that sails into it and plunges it down into black, abyssal depths.

On its own, the maelstrom would be more than enough to deter shipping, but it isn’t alone. Something lives in its black, crushing depths, an ancient, titanic deterrent all its own.

Karybdis himself, for whom the maelstrom is named. The Kraken of Ketan Point.

And it was for Karybdis that a lighthouse was built over a stretch of water all but empty of ships. The light warns no one away. Other, smaller lighthouses further up the coast perform that role, warning ships that they need to head further out to sea well before the maelstrom or the kraken become a potential danger. Ketan Point, a bare few miles away, was built for a different purpose.

The green stone tower, with its great beacon at its summit, houses the Kraken’s Bride.

Karybdis is beyond ancient, a fearsome creature of legend. Once upon a time, it’s said, generations of elves ago, he was a fiercer, tempestuous, much more wrathful force. Not content with the maelstrom, he roamed for leagues upon leagues, the length and breadth of the coast, shattering ships to flinders, and visiting vengeance upon the great sea ports for even the slightest of insults. The stories of him were many. Some said he had been wounded once, in some titanic battle of gods, and that the wound had driven him mad, made him little but wrath given flesh. Others said simply that he was a raw force of evil, lashing out at all around him.

But there was more to the great kraken than that. Mad he may have been, but not stupid, nor simple either. No one knows the reason for the bargain he one day proposed, out of the blue. Whether it was survival instinct, to stave off war before some god or state found a champion fit to wound him again, or … something else. Some desire of his own, more important than destruction. Loneliness, perhaps. Maybe, at the base of it, just simple loneliness.

Whatever it was, the kraken came one day to each of the great ports that he had threatened and vented his wrath upon, and reached out his thunderous thoughts in the language of gods to all who would listen and attempt to understand. A bargain, he offered. A stay of his hand. Well, tentacle. A cease of his violence against their ports and their ships, if they would give into to his keeping something of their own in return. A companion, to keep him company in his thoughts. A sacrifice, who would spend their lives with him.

A lighthouse was built, a beacon tower to lift them towards his presence, a green bastion on the cliffs above his maelstrom. So began the Kraken Brides of Ketan Point.

It is a softer duty now, at least somewhat. Time and companionship have … if not quite softened, at least cooled the great kraken over time. He does not demand a life in its entirety now. Or, perhaps, he merely appreciates a little diversity in his companions. A little worldliness, a little depth of experience and thought. Male or female, it doesn’t matter to him, nor race nor creed. Only strength of mind, and the ability to hold his interest. He asks not a lifetime, so that they might have something outside of himself to share with him, when the time comes. To be a Kraken Bride, the Lighthouse Keeper of Ketan Point, is perhaps no longer such an onerous and monstrous position.

Ten years. Karybdis asks ten years of any prospective Keeper. To give ten years of their life to his company, to share his thoughts as he lies dreaming beneath the maelstrom, to speak with him, play him music, tell him stories. Debate with him, engage with him. Remind him of the value of the world. Meet him, in the flesh, and stand fearless or at least unbowed before his form when he rises above the lighthouse tower every new moon, in the light of the beacon beam, to greet his Keepers in person.

Ten years, as his companion. And then ten more, to seek out a replacement for him.

The Keepers are a lineage, now, chosen by alternating predecessors. While one Keeper serves their time, their predecessor will seek out and choose their successor. It takes a certain sort of personality to hold up to Karybdis. Someone curious, practical. Not to prone to fear where none is warranted. Robust in personality, and willing to argue with monsters. Someone with stories to tell. The Keepers know what to look for, and trust no one else to choose wisely enough. Too many in the world beyond the tower have forgotten what Karybdis once was, and might take their task too lightly.

While they walk the world, seeking out successors on his behalf, they carry his power within them. Karybdis looks after his Brides, for their twenty years, and sometimes even after. There are some who have been Brides for him several times, Keepers of long-lived races who have returned to him for twenty years in every hundred, or two hundred, when they have something new to share with him. He reaches out his power to all of them.

And they reach out to each other, too. Kraken Brides of Karybdis rarely forget where they have come from. Who chose them, and who they chose, and who they went to for aid while seeking them. One Keeper of Ketan Point will always know another, and almost always aid them.

It takes a certain sort of personality, after all, to hold up to a kraken for years on end, in the cause of keeping a world safe from his wrath, and he himself safe from his emptiness.

Because it must not be forgotten. Time and companionship may have softened and cooled him, but Karybdis is still a kraken. An ancient, wounded, maddened remnant of all the long-ago wars of gods. His wrath may be deterred, staved off by his bargain, but it is not gone. Woe betide any who would break their bargain with him, and any who would poison or sabotage the mission of his Keepers. Should a Bride betray him, abandon their ten years before they are up, refuse to choose a successor, or choose a successor only to poison or wound him, then all others who survive must have no choice but to hunt them down, and stand willing to replace them the moment they know the betrayal. The moment Karybdis believes that his bargain is no longer being upheld is the moment he returns to the wrathful monstrosity he once was, and all who live upon his coastline reap the reward of it. His Brides, the Keepers of Ketan Point, must have this ever and always in their minds.

On their shoulders rests the safety of every city that touches the sea.

(Notes: Yes, Karybdis is a reference to Charybdis of ‘between Scylla and Charybdis’ fame, and ‘Ketan’ Point is a reference to Cetus. Because I watched Clash of the Titans young, and yes I know krakens aren’t Greek, but in a D&D context they definitely work with the reference. Also, I really like Fathomless Warlocks. And kraken cults. And lighthouses. So, you know? Have a broadly good-aligned society-slash-cult of fathomless warlocks with a ancient, lonely, extraordinarily cranky kraken patron?)

#d&d #homebrew #warlocks #krakens #factions #worldbuilding #origin stories

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beinmybonnet · 4 years ago

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29th June 1613 - London, England

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?

“He went to the trouble to have a draft carried all the way to Brandenburg for me, the least I can do is attend the opening night.”

Andromache rolls her shoulders into her partlet. “The least you can do maybe. Why am I doing this?”

“Because you missed me. And because you cried when we saw Othello.” Yusuf replies, looking sideways at her. Curbing the inevitable objection, Quynh squeezes Nicolò’s arm and strides forwards to overtake them. He lets himself be dragged after her, taking care not to tread on her skirts.

“I love the theatre. Plus, we’ve spent the last week sleeping in a shack in the Dales. This,” Quynh waves her free arm over the bridge rail, “is a nice change of scenery.”

London Bridge is teeming with people, the warmth of the bustle settling like cinders into his skin. The city writhes in its haste. Against the far bank of the Thames tall buildings strike against the horizon, the old Southwark Priory still reaching high in spent pride. Buildings are painted pale with dark beams striking bold across them. It is beautiful in its own way, Nicolò thinks. Inelegant, but unique.

“It wasn’t that bad. I still think we should have stayed a little longer, at least until-

“Andromache we’ve slept in nicer caves.”

Quynh glances back over her shoulder meaningfully, brow rising. Andromache shrugs. A smile, although few would recognise it. They step down onto the riverbank as one, turning east.

Nicolò nudges his shoulder into Yusuf as they pass the gardens. “You fail to mention you sent that script back with corrections.”

“Revisions. Small ones.” Yusuf’s voice is low, his expression impish. “Barely noticeable.”

“Ah, here we are.” Yusuf waves Andromache forward into their usual first-floor booth and steps back to allow Quynh to pass. Nicolò pauses, peering up the stairwell.

“Full house.”

“First performance. Trust me, this will be one to remember.” Yusuf is bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, and it makes Nicolò want to tuck his chin over a bobbing shoulder.

“You’d think the city would be a bit more subdued,” Andromache settles herself on the bench tucking thick plum skirts around her calves. She happily accepts a bag of roasted hazelnuts from Yusuf as he passes her to stand at the balcony. “They’ve only just recovered from their last bout of plague.”

“Exactly! This is the power of art.” Yusuf beams, arm sweeping wide. “Look at these people.” All around them the crowd is seething with anticipation, the noise growing as the wait goes on. Children scramble in the lower level of the yard for better vantage points, clawing their way up the beams supporting the lower galleries. People are shouting and laughing and drinking, the sound cocooned tight within the impressive structure. A man swings a laughing boy up over the mass, and a small group of women pressed against the stage begin shouting a suspicious sounding rhyme, pointing across the pit. Before they can finish a man in the gallery beneath them roars his response across the yard.

Nicolò’s brow furrows. “Clot-pole? I don’t…”

“She’s calling him an idiot,” Andromache supplies, “and insulting his hat.”

“It is a bit much.” Quynh’s leaning over the balcony to get a better look. “I think she’s accusing him of, err – short-changing her. Last night.”

Still grinning, Yusuf peers over beside her. “Oh, she’s quite angry. Here we go.” He sounds delighted. What looks like a parsnip sails over the head of the crowd. “A pity, she’ll want those for the third act.”

Quynh’s now bent almost double over the bannister and Andromache reaches to steady her without looking. “Isn’t this sort of thing that made the man move half of the troupe over to Blackfriars?”

Yusuf shakes his head in fond exasperation. “Ah, William has become far too prudish in his success. The engagement of the audience is the nature of theatre.”

“Engagement?” Nicolò smirks as something below meets its mark with a splat and a shout.

“Well, you cannot deny their enthusiasm-”

Quynh reappears with a whoop of triumph clutching her prize; a browning cabbage intercepted in the air. She rotates the rotten vegetable in careful examination. “Excellent.”

Yusuf raises his hand in hopeless protest as Nicolò leans back in his seat, eyeing Quynh. “10 crowns says you can’t hit the stage from here.”

She snorts derisively.

“20 if you can take King Henry off his feet.” Andromache counters, rising slightly to gauge the distance. Done, Quynh agrees happily, settling beside her and tucking her cabbage under the bench. Yusuf mutters an exasperated appeal for help to the heavens and Nicolò quickly tugs him down into the remaining space with a hand over his knee.

The parting of the stage curtain prompts the dropping of remaining projectiles and an enthusiastic cheer from the crowd. The herald clears his throat, steps to the edge of the stage and spreads his arms.

The first and happiest hearers of the town,

I come no more to make you laugh; things now,

That bear a weighty and a serious brow,

Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe,

Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow,

We now present. Those that can pity, here

May, if they think it well, let fall a tear;

Be sad, as we would make ye

“Oh, so a comedy?” Quynh says brightly and Yusuf shushes her.

The first actors emerge from the wings in their velvets and the tale takes flight.

In all this noble bevy, has brought with her

One care abroad; he would have all as merry

As, first, good company, good wine, good welcome,

Can make good people. O, my lord, you're tardy:

Yusuf is mouthing the words soundlessly, engrossed.

There are many things Nicolò has enjoyed about visiting theatres over the years. He will readily admit this performance is an enjoyable one - the young man playing Buckingham is particularly charismatic, the audience viscerally immersed in his indignation. The actors proudly deliver their lines and their story to an increasingly hypnotised audience.

But the play itself has never been what really draws Nicolò to this place. He glances sideways again and immediately, expectedly, loses the thread of the plot. In this moment the talent on the stage could never hope to hold his interest as he sits beside this man. Yusuf has lost himself entirely to the unfolding tale, gaze flitting from figure to figure calling below. Passion alight in his eyes. The arts do this to him in a way Nicolò has seen nothing else in all their time together. They have walked familiar paths in gallery halls for hours on end, Yusuf’s eyes roving walls of painted expression. They’ve sat in houses of the dying and listened to children bringing comfort with songs of naivety. Literature, dance, poetry, music; in all their changing forms they have always arrested Yusuf in his entirety.

These things give people freedom Nicolò, true freedom, he had once said. Free of limitation and expectation, in art people reveal their true selves. It is beautiful.

For Nicolò, that beauty is reflected blindingly in Yusuf’s own experience. To watch him like this for the rest of his given days would see him depart this earth achingly grateful to his God.

But Yusuf feels his distraction and leans toward him. “You’re missing it,” he murmurs, smile pulling impossibly wider. Unbridled delight is etched at the edges of his eyes, and Nicolò wants to trace his fingertips over the creases. He only realises he has reached out and done so when Yusuf captures and kisses his palm. “Watch the play.”

“It is a story still within living memory, I know how it ends,” Nicolò whispers.

Yusuf will not have it, nodding towards the actors. “Watch them tell it.”

Anne Boleyn is drifting across the stage, hand at her chest and Nicolò turns dutifully back to the performance.

Was he mad, sir?

O, very mad, exceeding mad, in love too:

But he would bite none; just as I do now,

He would kiss you twenty with a breath.

This time it’s Yusuf’s eyes that flicker back towards him and Nicolò hears silent words in the curl of his lip. Twenty kisses in a single breath. A risky venture, no?

Nicolò hums, his thoughts mirrored beside him. We shall see.

Good lord chamberlain,

Go, give 'em welcome; you can speak the French tongue;

And, pray, receive 'em nobly, and conduct 'em

Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty

Shall shine at full upon them. Some attend him.

You have now a broken banquet; but we'll mend it.

A good digestion to you all: and once more

I shower a welcome on ye; welcome all!

King Henry VIII emerges from the curtains with a flourish, the actor clearly taking great pains not to stumble in breeches that billow around his knees. The theatre bursts into applause as a round of trumpets sound, and they shout their approval at the blast of a canon from the rafters. The actors move to their marks to begin the scene in earnest, and Andromache leans forward with interest for the first time.

“See, I told you! With the funding now available, they’ve really spared no expense,” Yusuf is still clapping. Andromache hums noncommittally sitting back, but her eyes are suddenly bright with curiosity.

“Quynh, if you’re going to win your money, I suggest you do it now.”

“Why? I was going to wait until the trial scene,” she replies, confused.

From his place beside her Nicolò can see clearly that Andromache is struggling to suppress a smirk. “Well, there won’t be much left by then.”

“What?” Quynh looks down the bench at him. He shrugs. Andromache sighs around her growing amusement.

Seconds pass before she speaks again.

“They’ve set the roof on fire.”

He doesn’t need long to piece together what’s happened. There’s a thin plume of smoke rising from the inner curve of the roof and within, a flicker of light no bigger than that from a candle waving gently in the rafters. The canon. They wadded the canon, he realises. The little flame wafts higher in the breeze. The crowd is oblivious, too focused on the stage to be looking upwards. He taps Yusuf’s thigh.

It does take a moment. “Oh dear.” Yusuf looks back and forth between the roof and the stage, face falling. “Well maybe-

There’s a loud pop as the flame meets eager fuel. It dances up into the thatch lining the hooped roof and flares wide and greedy. Whip fast, it licks across the reeds consuming them in crunches and cracks that have people now looking skywards and shouting. Those in the highest galleries rear back as the fire completes its rapid circuit of the roof. By the time the actors have abandoned their attempts at continuing and stand dumbstruck on the stage, the theatre is ringed in an ominous halo of flame.

“Yusuf, unless your intention is a repeat of ’54…” Quynh trails off sadly, holding her cabbage.

Clumps of lit thatch are beginning to drift into the standing audience and the pushing and shoving follows in earnest. One man charges through the crowd braying, his breeches alight. Andromache stands looking decidedly more cheerful. “Come on, we’ll help them clear the pit.”

Nicolò follows suit, a hand falling to Yusuf’s shoulder. He has to work to quell an absurd urge to laugh; Yusuf is glaring at the roof with all the stubbornness of a chastised child. He squeezes gently, sympathy winning out. “I’m sorry.”

“Canons, who on earth thought canons in a wooden building was…” Yusuf trails off, glancing up. “Nothing to be done I suppose.” He holds out his other hand. “Shall we?”

Drawing Yusuf up behind him, Nicolò moves out into the stairwell twisting up into the higher galleries where people are starting to pile down in haste. An older man stumbles in the rush and he reaches out to steady him. “Careful, sir. Head out towards the river.”

The man nods and quickly hurries on pressing his handkerchief to his mouth. The next woman through the door snatches her arm up to her chest before he can move to offer any assistance. Dirty papist she spits as she veers away. Yusuf tenses, a hard line pressed at his back. Nicolò just dips his head.

“Please hurry.”

By the time the flow of people has ebbed the flames are beginning to consume the ornate stage pillars. The curtains masking backstage catch like parchment and blaze furiously. “We should make sure the galleries are clear,” he says, “you take the east, I the west?”

Yusuf eyes the roof timbers warily. “Five minutes. No more.”

In the end it only takes Nicolò four minutes to usher the last stubborn gamblers from the gentleman’s room. The fact that the smoke has now crept down to waist level speeds this along nicely, and they hurry to the stairwell hunched and coughing. Nicolò stays low, following them down the last steep flight when his foot catches on something in the darkness, almost putting his hand through the adjacent wall in an attempt to steady himself. There’s a man slouched in the corner, limbs sprawled wide and snoring. An empty bladder clutched to his chest. The strength of the brandy fumes punch through the dense smoke to further sting at his eyes and his irritation almost threatens to outweigh his conscience. Almost.

By the time he staggers out into clear air dragging his oblivious charge Nicolò know he’s been much longer than five minutes. Behind him there’s a crash which sounds very much like the galleries have finally given in and collapsed. Sounds like, because his eyes are clenched shut, burning and watering. Pressing his hands to his knees, he tries not to gag on the tar in his throat.

A hand settles on the back of his neck whilst another cups a palmful of water to his face. Nicolò winces.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, “He’s heavier than he looks.”

He can hear Yusuf grinding his teeth but his response is surprisingly placid. “Rinse your eyes.”

Yusuf presses a water skin into his hands and moves away. When Nicolò’s vision has cleared he spots him back near the eastern entrance, patiently shepherding two enraptured boys further from the fire as they gape at the sky. Even for one who has seen much, Nicolò must admit, it is quite a sight.

The playhouse’s cylindrical shape has moulded the fire into a twirling steeple of flame inside the structure, now reaching twenty feet clear of the building itself. The Globe resembles an enormous cauldron struggling to hold its roiling contents. It belches clouds of thick black smoke as its rim splinters and cracks under the pressure and heat. What’s left of the thatch continues to feed the furnace, keeping the flames bright and fierce.

Quynh appears, sliding her hand into the crook of his elbow to steer him away. She leads him to a grassy curve of the riverbank where people are congregating in groups and beginning to resettle on the ground. From one muse to another, the audience remain eager spectators, gasping and whooping as the bones of the building begin to break, sending up showers of sparks. Yusuf and Andromache join them just as the walls start to keel inwards.

“You were right, definitely one of his more memorable works,” Andromache announces as they sit. “Perhaps my favourite.”

“Yes, I’m so very glad you enjoyed yourself.” Yusuf’s tone is flat, but his eyes roll indulgently.

Quynh settles herself back against Andromache’s bent knees, facing the playhouse. “We can still make a night of it. We get a bottle of wine, some pastries. Watch the sunset.” Her voices softens slightly and she levels her gaze at them. “You really must go so soon?”

He looks to Yusuf, who nods. “We have passage on a ship to Antwerp. She leaves on the tide tomorrow morning.”

Quynh’s sigh is dejected. “You won’t consider staying just a little longer? We’re moving on to…” she trails off, peering up at Andromache – Devon, she supplies, “We could use your help relocating these women. The trials are becoming barbaric.”

Yusuf shakes his head, surveying the crowd. “I’d prefer not to tempt fate. London is not at its most welcoming for us presently.

Nicolò quirks his lip. “You mean for me.” Ah, he sees now. The woman from earlier is stood just a little further up the bank, clutching at well-dressed man and pointing at them. Yusuf stares back unflinchingly. Nicolò feels him shift to further block her line of sight to him.

Then he turns back to meet Nicolò’s eye and speaks firmly. “For us. If a place does not welcome you, it does not welcome me.”

Quynh has watched the exchange carefully and suddenly sits up. She clears her throat and calls out loudly enough for those nearest to turn. “Thou art a boil, madam, a plague sore!”

Andromache snorts and the woman raises her fan to her face appalled, tugging on her husband’s arm. It has the intended effect on Yusuf though and his grin returns to its proper place. Nicolò feels a familiar rush of affection for Quynh and her unfailing ability to put people at ease.

“King Lear,” Yusuf says proudly. “I didn’t think you were paying attention.”

“Of course she was,” Andromache interjects, “It’s a magnum opus of insults.”

Quynh grins up at her. “Oh, you worsted-stockinged knave.”

The retort is instant. “Brazen-faced varlet.”

“Ancient ruffian.”

Andromache shrugs. “Accurate.”

Their laughter comes in easy unison and Yusuf’s expression is unbearably soft as he watches them. “It won’t be for long,” he promises.

Quynh pulls her eyes from Andromache and nods. “Probably a sensible choice at the moment. You do look violently Venetian Nicolò.

He wrinkles his nose, affronted. “I do not-”

Yusuf is reaching for his face, so he pauses his protest for the gentle pass of a thumb over the bridge of his nose. “It’s your profile my love.” Yusuf’s tongue darts out over the pad of his thumb before it returns to rub more firmly at his nose. “Which currently is very sooty.”

With his hands still upon Nicolò’s face he murmurs. “Oh but what a piece of work is this man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel,” Yusuf blinks, his sincerity blinding, “in apprehension how like a god.”

It’s all Nicolò can do not to rub his flushed cheeks into Yusuf’s palms like an alley cat.

Andromache arches a refined brow at Quynh. “Nicolò gets a Hamletian ode to his soul, and I get ‘ruffian’?”

Quynh rocks onto her elbow in the grass without missing a beat. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Mayhap a smouldering playhouse, ablaze in righteous flame?

“Likened to a smoking wreckage, how romantic.”

Nicolò would laugh but Yusuf is still holding his gaze and his face, everything else muting around him. He does this; bestows his love in soft declarations that leave Nicolò stunned, and then holds him steady until the words perfuse. Nicolò loves him so much he feels he might combust, with all the ferocity of the fire at his back.

Centuries before, he had allowed his disbelief to ask a question once, and only once. The intensity frightening him. Could a gift such as this truly be his eternal?

Nicolò smiles at his world and whispers.

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and gives life to thee.

held in the embers on ao3 at theexistentialteapot

part one of this series can be found here

#god this one took years off me #but it's done!#thank you bones for the final shove over the finish line #i am so soft for this found family #and they deserve happy memories #yusuf would 1000% have been a theatre kid #the headcanon is lodged #userbones #usermarwan #tusermj #tuserceleste #the old guard fic #the old guard #mine

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evierena · 4 years ago

Text

The demon brothers reacting to a MC that got cheated on. Part 2

Hello, I come here with the second part of my first headcanon, and I wanted to say that I did found a mistake in Satan’s hc, but I already fixed it. Just like last time, if you see a mistake, please kindly point it out for me, I really want to improve in everything I can.

TW: Mentions of death.

Intro:

MC was going to get married to their high school sweetheart, they were deeply in love and had been very clear about their status. They had made friends with everyone but never accepted any advances.

Halfway through the year, they get a text from the third party informing them about their significant other affair.

And now, heartbroken and angry, it was up to the rest to help them pick up the pieces. How? Well... Let's see.

Asmodeus

(In this one MC is GN, but the cheater and third party are female and male respectively)

This demon would love to talk with you about your wedding preparations. The theme, your outfit, the flowers, the music, the lingerie for your wedding night *wink, wink*. He would absolutely adore going through pictures upon pictures of weddings.

However, at the same time, as much as he is the Avatar of Lust, he wouldn't like to talk specifically about you with your fiancée. Yes, he would offer to *show* you how to make your bride go crazy on the wedding night, but since you always shot him down (gently, because you know he is sensitive about rejection) he wouldn't actually give any input to help you in that matter.

There is something else that only he, as the Avatar of Lust, sort of anticipated as he listened to you talking about how you met your girlfriend thanks to her being your younger brother's best friend.

And there were nights when, as much as Asmo could feel guilty later, he just couldn't help but fantasise about it coming true so that he could steal you away.

When it finally came true, he felt... Well, overjoyed and immensely guilty for even feeling like that.

You see, you were video calling your girlfriend, and as she was telling you about her day someone entered her room while saying "Honey, I'm home" and you recognized your little brother's voice.

Your girlfriend's face was in shock, and then you saw your brother placing a kiss on her lips casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world, like she was his and not yours. Then, he turned to the camera and his face was disfigured with shock and remorse.

But you had seen enough so you finished the call.

Asmo was in your room, but he was busy doing a face mask in the bathroom and when he came out and saw you crying and sobbing, head between your knees, he just knew it.

I wouldn't say he went as far as hating himself for that (knowing he could've given you a heads up) but he did feel remorseful.

So, for the rest of the week he made it up by pampering the hell out of you.

He lend you his bathtub, he made sure your skin didn't suffer the consequences of crying so much, he gave you massages, he took you shopping, he distracted you by inviting you to clubs, parties, he bragged about you in his social media, giving your self esteem and ego a much needed boost.

Of course, he would always make sexual innuendos, but he never did anything to make you feel uncomfortable, more like friendly reminders that you are desired.

"Oh, MC, you look delectable with that, I could just eat you up" and "If she saw you like that, she would beg for you to take her back" and some more "You'll see they'll regret everything, you are beautiful inside and out, and they will soon realize what an amazing person they let go"

Asmodeus will try to be in constant touch with you (as long as you allow him) holding hands, a hand in your back, sitting really close to you in school, cuddling with you on movie nights, fingers brushing delicately through your hair, etc.

His revenge is by far the most direct and cruel out of his brothers.

He teamed up with Solomon, the latter getting permission to go to the Human Realm for some errands he needed, and then he summoned Asmo.

In there, he went and meet your ex and brother, and with just a few words he charmed your ex so badly she forgot all about your brother, falling forever in love with Asmo (Solomon helped with a spell that would keep the charm on forever), effectively breaking your little brothers heart and driving your ex to a state of desperation, for she was obsessed with the demon until she died.

As for you, as time went by, you moved on and once you were ready to embrace your new found feelings for the pink haired demon, you decided to let him know.

"I love you, Asmo"

"Ow, of course you do, peaches, I love myself too" he would say, playfully.

"I mean, I love love you, Asmodeus"

Cue to squeals of joy loud enough to be heard in all House of Lamentation.

" Really?!! Ohhh, I love you too, MC!!!!"

Beelzebub

You and Beel had an amazing friendship, he was very protective of you, and soon everyone knew that you never were far from each other. You would cook for him, accompany him in his nightly carvings when you were also awake, he would share his food with you, pretty much the most wholesome friendship you ever had.

As such, you told each other everything. He would tell you about Lilith and his nightmares, how he felt about his brothers and himself, and you would tell him about your future spouse, the nervousness and eagerness of sharing your life with the love of your life and the want of starting a family with them.

He only wanted for you to be happy, so if that person was making you happy, he would ignore the ache in his heart every time you talked about it and wished you the best.

One day, you were on cooking duty, and you decided to make Beel a feast of his favorite Human Realm recipes, so you left your human phone charging in your room and put yourself to work, but you took your D.D.D with you.

Beel was coming back from practice when you texted him if he could bring you some stuff from your room before you finished everything in the kitchen.

He saw the tilting screen with several notifications and decided to also bring it to you. However, one text captured his attention.

He didn't recognized the name of the sender, but the text read "I can't keep up with the lies and I wouldn't want someone as important to me as (name of your soon-to-be spouse) is to you to do this kind of thing" Beel furrowed his brows, trying to read more in the screen, but he decided it was best for you to read it first.

And just in time, you called out to him.

He went and when he saw you he gave you your phone with a pained look on his face.

"I think you need to see this before eating, MC"

You were puzzled, "what could have happened that was more important than eating?" you thought. Oh, but when you started to read everything, you understood.

Your ex co worker had confessed to you to be having an affair with your soon-to-be spouse.

You looked up to see your best demon friend, your big teddy bear for some sort of comfort when your world was coming crashing down on you.

Beel hugged you tight, letting your tears stain his shirt, engulfing your entire being in his bigger and warmer frame.

He didn't say anything, he even forgot all about the feast you had prepared, his soft and big heart was broken for you. However, he did feel a sudden craving for a certain human up in the human realm.

Finally you pushed yourself out of his embrace and said "Beel, I'm hungry" causing him to smile gently at you.

"Me too".

With Beel, you eat your woes away. He would always make sure that you had at least a snack in your hand, because in his experience, food can make you feel better.

He became your personal body heater, always keeping you at arm's length. If before you both were close, now you were joined by the hip.

You welcomed him, his compassionate and sweet presence was all you needed to keep going.

With time, you began to recover from the blow, started to smile more, be more happy and lively, like you used to. Beel would always smile at your way, and he always offered his help when things got a little too much for you.

If you felt like you gained weight from all the comfort food you had been eating, he would remind you, by lifting your body, that you were still really light for him and that you would always be very pretty to his eyes. Nonetheless, if you still felt insecure or uncomfortable, he would offer to help you train and get back on track.

If someone dared to make you feel guilty about what happened, Beel would growl at them and then he would remind you that it was not your fault and that you are an incredible person who helped him to get his family together again, and that he would always be there for you.

If you fall for this sweet, adorable teddy bear I don't blame you (honestly, same) you would also need to be the one to come forth about it, not because he is dense or clueless about your feelings for him, but because he was already happy with your friendship and didn't want to push for more.

"Beel, I love you"

He would look at you with big and excited puppy eyes, and the biggest, most heartwarming smile you had seen

Belphegor

(Spoilers from lesson 16 read under your own risk)

When you found him in the attic, and accepted to help him, you started to sneak to try and keep him company when Lucifer wasn't around.

You would try to make conversation to help him feel not so lonely up there, and in his efforts to gain your trust he let you ramble about your future marriage.

He HATED hearing you talk about it, it just made his blood boil. How could an insignificant and naïve human like you even dared to think about being remotely happy when he lost everything because of humans? Oh, he would be so thrilled to crush your pathetic dreams of happiness by taking your life. But all that had to wait until you were stupid enough to let him out.

Well, after the whole Incident™, you, Belphie and Beel had The Talk™ because you wanted to start over, forgive and forget and give yourselves a new chance at friendship.

Who knew you two would become such good friends??

When you weren't busy doing your tasks or studying for class, you would be with Belphie, napping and recharging energy in the most weird places. One time, Lucifer found both of you sleeping hanging from the horns of that demon head at the entrance.

Somehow you would always get dragged with Belphie's pranks at Lucifer, and more often than not, you were the reason he stopped from doing the really dangerous ones, something that the Avatar of Pride was mildly grateful for, if only you could make his little brother stop completely.

With your new blossoming friendship with the youngest of the demon brothers, you confide in him with your worries about your future. He would listen to you, if he wasn't too tired or if he didn't fall asleep, and in his heart still remained a little bit of the annoyance of hearing you talk about your wedding, but for entirely different reasons.

After everything that happened between the two, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop you from leaving back to the human realm, but it still hurt him to think that he wasted his short time with you trying to trick you instead of enjoying your company.

One night, you were napping in the attic next to him, and he just stared at you, unable to sleep, when your phone started to vibrate unceasingly.

He was annoyed to say the least, thinking that it could wake you up and break his peaceful time with you, so he took it to turn it off when he saw the preview of a concerning amount of texts you were receiving.

He froze reading the previews, (I do not justfy invadig someone else´s privacy at all, but he is a brat and a demon, so he just did it) so he decided to investigate further by unblocking the device and read thoroughly what seemed to be... a confession.

Once he was completely informed of the current situation, he put the phone down, took his own and texted Beel asking him to bring you some comfort snacks, because you were going to need it.

Once he got the confirmation from his twin, he turned to you and, against his own desires, woke you up.

"What is it Belphie?" your sleepy eyes trying to focus on his, your voice barely audible. He was almost convinced to let you go back to sleep and deal with this shit tomorrow. But he stopped himself from giving in to his sin.

"MC, you need to read something"

The severity in his voice helped you clear the haziness from your mind as you sat up.

He knew the moment you were completely awake while you were reading the messages from who, he deduced, was your partner's ex telling you that they were having an affair from at least two years prior to your coming to Devildom and now that you were gone, they were planning to move in together despite all your daily calls and weekly video calls.

When you looked at Belphie, tears clouding your beautiful eyes, he remembered why he hated humanity so much. They didn't hesitate to crush souls as pure and kind as yours, they were selfish bastards.

He held you, firmly pressed against his chest, rubbing your back, while he let you know his feelings against your now ex.

That's when Beel showed up with your favorite snacks in tons. And when he saw the scene before him, Belphie just looked at him while still whispering to you that you have them, he and Beel, that they were going to look after you and that you were going to be fine. Cue to Beel sitting by your side and took you and his twin in his arms, reaffirming the youngest words.

After they helped you calm down, Beel and Belphie offered your snacks and all three of you ate quietly, you were leaning in Belphie's shoulder and he even kept quiet about the crumbs you were spilling on him.

Once you were done and full, you went back to their room, and all three of you decided to join the beds and sleep together for the night. So, you were resting in the twins's bed, in the middle of them, engulfed by their comforting warmth when you felt Belphegor's hand snake his way until he found yours.

"I will never let anyone hurt you ever again" he swore to you, and you fell asleep.

Belphegor would be the type of friend who would diss and bad-mouth your ex to help you feel better, and he definitely teamed up with Satan and Solomon to effectively curse the people who hurt his favorite human so much. How? You'll never know, but one day you found him staring at a wall as if he was reminiscing something with a malicious grin, and when you asked he simply said "I was just wondering how long can a human stand with only three intermittent hours of sleep daily".

You dropped the subject and never brought it up again.

Belphie would make sure no one bothered you, and he kept his promise to you, whenever he wasn't awake and around you, Beel was.

The Avatar of Sloth guarded your dreams, allowing you to sleep soundly and safe, he would steal you to nap the moment he sensed you were feeling down, and the glare he gave to others left no room to argue.

He wouldn't make a move with you, directly, but he would *subtly* and most of the time while falling asleep, let you know about his own feelings so if you did end up falling for this sleepyhead, you would be sure he felt the same.

"Belphegor?" you whispered while you both were in the middle of one of your napping sessions, snuggling up to him more.

"Mm?"

"I love you and I want to be with you for the rest of my life"

You didn't see him, but you felt him hugging you closer to him, tangling his legs with yours, pressing kisses to your head. But he would still tease you.

"Took you long enough, MC"

Again, thank you so much for reading all of this long ass headcanon. I hope you have a great day, and remember to take breaks and stay hydrated.

P.s: In case you haven’t found it, here’s Part 1

#obey me shall we date #obey me #asmodeus x mc #beelzebub x mc #belphegor x mc

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zrtranscripts · 3 years ago

Text

Home Front, Mission 19: The Madman’s Crown

Clobber that Cleaning

[radio cycles past a snippet of music and some static before landing on the Abel frequency]

SAM YAO: [dramatic narrator voice] Welcome back, travellers, to the thrilling tale of adventure and cleaning that is The Lair of the Abhorroghast. [own voice] Now I don't know about you, but my old shack is looking better already. I can actually see the floor again! Um, now actually, if any of you runners happen to find a Carpet World next time you're out there, I could really use a rug or something.

Anyway, uh, where were we? Ah, yes. Yes. When I left you, you and your companions, halfling rogue Kit and elven wizard Ameline had just mopped up the contents of the Pit of Woe. Ameline conjured a tidal wave that swept the three of you through the tunnels beneath the pit and further into the dungeon.

And as the guy who cooked up this whole adventure, I can predict you'll need some oven cleaning elixirs, scrubbing brushes, and bin bags for the next chapter. Oh, also, make sure your floors and surfaces are clear of clutter. So don your rubber gloves of cleanliness, gird what your mother gave you, and let's return to our quest to cleanse the Lair of the Abhorroghast. But first, here's a song that always puts me in the Pit of Woe.

[SAM alternates between a dramatic game master voice for narration, different voices for characters, and his own voice for asides and cleaning instruction

SAM YAO: When the flood waters ebb away, you find yourself bedraggled but alive on the floor of a long narrow cave, but instead of the darkness you have come to expect, the ceiling glitters and the walls gleam. Every surface of the cave is studded with shimmering white crystals that here and there seem to grow in crude faces and other all-too-human shapes.

“Don't move,” hisses Kit. “Don't speak too loud. There's something fishy about this place.” Ameline scoffs. “We've lost enough time to your antics already. Come, adventurer, this way!” But Ameline is cut off by a sudden crunching noise. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch one of the crystal faces grin and then the walls begin to close in! “The water's running that way,” whispers Kit, pointing to the cave's far end. “There must be a door, a switch, a secret passage. Search quick, friend, and search careful, or this crystal cave'll crush us yet.”

Yeah, so what I thought was we'd start with cleaning windows. Spooky crystals, glass, basically the same thing. If you have window cleaner, that works great, but if you don't have Janine's slightly scary doomsday stockpile of cleaning products, you can use vinegar and scrunched up newspaper! Apparently it works great, if you don't mind your house smelling like a fish and chip shop.

Anyway, Ameline is frozen with fear, but Kit creeps along the edge of the room, following the flow of the knee-deep water and running his hands over the walls. As the walls close in, you have little choice but to follow his lead. Hmm. So uh, yeah, get polishing.

[SAM alternates between a dramatic game master voice for narration, different voices for characters, and his own voice for asides and cleaning instruction

SAM YAO: As the crystal cave folds in on itself, you have to stoop to avoid being crushed. And then, beneath the flowing water, you spot what looks like a crystal lever growing out of the floor. It takes some effort to pull. When you do, the cave shakes, the walls stop moving, and suddenly the crystal wall ahead parts like a pair of curtains and the water gushes through. You, Kit, and Ameline stumble after it into the searing heat and brilliant light.

Emerging from the crystal cave, you find yourself at the edge of a great chasm in the earth. On the opposite side is an open gate of red stone carved into the rock like a wound. Magma spills from either side of the gate in rivers, sending up tufts of steam where the lava and running water meet.

Before you can take in the sight, the sound of leathery wings echoes above. A host of winged demons claw their way out of the very rock and swoop towards you. Yeah. Yeah, it's the chore that all mortals dread, cleaning the oven. Ministry guidelines suggest not letting grime and greasy black bits build up even in the apocalypse. So prepare to face the fiends of the Infernus Cavern!

Of course, if you don't have an oven, fiends are notoriously fond of gutters, that bit underneath heavy furniture where dry peas and misplaced figurines turn up, the back of the fridge, that... Well, you know. Basically this is the time to do that one horrible household task you hate.

Back in the Lair of the Abhorroghast, Kit snarls as he ducks the demons' razor claws. "These fiends, doomed to serve as jailers of the Abhorroghast for all eternity,” Ameline explains. “Defeat them, pass the red gate, and the treasure is as good as ours.” [scrubbing sound] You want that treasure, don't you? So keep scrubbing.

[SAM alternates between a dramatic game master voice for narration, different voices for characters, and his own voice for asides and cleaning instruction

SAM YAO: Oh, that wasn't so bad, was it? And the oven looks amazing! Now then, where were we? [paper rustles] Ah. Ah yes. Right. Fiends. All around you lie the bodies of vanquished demons, their leathery wings strewn on the bloodred stone. Together, you, Kit, and Ameline pass through the door in the rock and enter the pitch black passages beyond.

As soon as you cross the threshold, you feel a deathly chill. Yeah, this is a very hot and cold dungeon, isn't it? You are not alone. Something is slithering through the tunnels behind you, something big, seeking you out. Holding your torches aloft, you see a vast tentacle advancing along the ceiling above and reaching down towards you.

Yes, it's time to clean out the shower drain! I always thought that little hole resembled something from an elder dimension, but you know, the grossness is the challenge. All you really need are rubber gloves and a bin bag. And once the Abhorroghast's tentacles are driven back to the dark dimension from whence they oozed, cleanse the pit around with scouring potions or whatever bathroom cleaner you've got to hand.

Tentacles pulse above and around you as you advance through the corridors of jet black stone. As Ameline drives back a thrashing tentacle with the light from the end of her staff, she cries, “Adventurer, with me! Our only chance is to find its heart!”

As Kit distracts the tendrils, ducking and weaving to avoid the blows of the Abhorroghast’s alien limbs. Ameline leads the way deeper into the labyrinth, her glowing staff your only guide. And remember to keep cleaning the drain with those scouring potions as you go. Scrubbety scrub.

[SAM alternates between a dramatic game master voice for narration, different voices for characters, and his own voice for asides and cleaning instruction

SAM YAO: Your blade sweeps through a thrashing tentacle, one two, one two. It recoils back through the twisting corridors of the labyrinth. Ameline leads you and Kit through to a chamber of black stone in the center around a pool as dark as ink. As her staff casts a wan light around the chamber, you see something glittering in the gloom. “Arr, treasure!” Kit cries, unable to conceal his delight. Ameline holds him back. “We've no time to be greedy,” she says. “Find the crown quickly, before the monster returns.”

All right, you're not very likely to find treasure in the bathroom. Unless, well, unless you're really into the digestive system. But that sink still needs cleaning, so let's get it glittering again. [piled coins clink] You search the piles of gold until your hands close around a golden circlet studded all around with black opals. The Madman's Crown.

The discovery does not go unnoticed. Ameline smiles, reaches out her hand, and says, “I knew you were special from the moment we first met above. Come, I'll take the crown.” “Arr, and who'd be fool enough to trust ye with it?” Kit snaps. “This isn't something you can melt down for beer money, halfling,” Ameline retorts. “It grants the power of the mad wizards who built this place to the head that wears it.”

As they argue, you begin to wonder, is the chamber shaking? Is that rumbling growing louder? Something is slithering from the depths of the pool, a mass of long questing tendrils. Ameline strides towards you, holding out her hand imperiously as she demands, “Enough of this charade! Give me the crown now!”

Behind her, Kit cries out, “Adventurer, to me! Don't let her have it!” The chamber shakes violently. Ameline’s staff glows with power. Before the spell pins you to the wall, you hurl the crown away and Kit the halfling catches it. “Much obliged,” he grins.

“Arr, but really, ye shouldn't trust either of us.” He gives a little bow as Ameline joins him. “I can't believe that worked,” she gloats. “I'm afraid Kit and I have been, as they say, in cahoots. Now there's an eldritch horror on the way and Kit and I have a reward to collect for this old relic, so ta ta!”

With the Madman's Crown in their possession, the treacherous pair flee, leaving you to face the Abhorroghast alone. Its vast, slimy bulk rises from the pool, a thousand bloodshot eyes fix upon you.

Right, yeah, that's those rubber gloves on. This is it, the last household task, and the nastiest. Can you clean your loo, or will the eldritch horror that lurks within it snack on your sanity? See you on the other side, adventurer.

SAM YAO: [dramatic narrator voice] Mortally wounded, the Abhorroghast shrinks back into the water, its tentacles recede as it drags its glistening bulk back to the hellish dimension from whence it came. The chamber is silent. All that's left is the treasure of the Abhorroghast's lair and the long trek back to the surface world. You shudder as you remember that somewhere out there, the traitors Kit and Ameline are making off with an artifact of terrible power.

But as you dig through the piled gold and silver of the lair, something catches your attention. Ameline’s spell book. In her haste to get away, the elf must have dropped it among the coins and precious stones. It lies open on a pile of necklaces. Sketched within, surrounded by mystic runes and diagrams, is a circle of wizardly figures. As fire falls upon the world, they are bowing down to one in their midst, one who wears the Madman's Crown. Whatever plans those two have for the artifact, they don't look good.

[own voice] But that's an adventure for another day. You've slain the monster made of hair that lurked in the shower drain, dusted for traps on your sideboard, vanquished the slaughterworms of filth and whatever else was making your home less, well, homely. Now it may not seem important compared to hordes of zombies or world-ending catastrophes, but just like playing Demons and Darkness, having a good tidy once in a while can help you feel like you have some control over the world around you. I reckon that's something a lot of us could do with right now.

Like... like pulling an eldritch monster from the shower drain, if we protect ourselves, pitch in, put up with some discomfort for the greater good, we can get through this. And when it's all over, we'll have somewhere worth living in, which is how every adventure ends, isn't it? You go home having made things just a little better than before, a little bit at a time.

#zombies run #zr home front #zrhf 19 #the madman's crown #zr transcript

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besybil · 4 years ago

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A LESSON ON SERVITORS

chaoscommentary

Introduction

In the Chaos Magick ladder which I briefly described in a previous article we have Servitors as the next evolution of our high magick.

Just to remind you we go from:

Sigils -> Servitors -> Egregores -> God forms.

Servitors are much more difficult to put into application than sigils. They require more time and energy as well.

The good news (for some) is that Servitors can still be created in private.

Egregores and Godforms are almost impossible to create without some sort of extra participation or fellowship with other people (however I have some clever methods to use which will be described when I get to those subjects.) Regardless, before I jump into how to create a servitor, I need to clearly define WHAT a servitor IS.

What is a Servitor?

As servitor is a thought form of your own creation. One of the most popular occurrences (back in the day) was the creation of imaginary friends by children.

The power and purpose of your servitor will be entirely dependent on you and your desire to develop it. For young children, to have a non judgmental companion to walk beside them as they learn to socially cope with other people is a common mission for some servitors. Another way to think of Servitors is as “Familiars.”

Now this comes with a bit of a warning, without proper attention your servitor may gain independence and a life of its own (Thus evolving into an Egregore.) I am all about responsibility and making your magick do exactly what it was intended to do, so I will give you some tips on how to keep a leash on your familiar.

Why would I want a Servitor?

Like I said in a previous article, sigils are typically where the buck stops for most Chaotes. They are powerful, work as intended and are very accurate. You could technically stop right there and have everything you will ever need for working with magick. However, magick is more of a walk for some and an exploration of endless possibilities for others. Servitor creation is the next step into some deep waters and a step out into the wild frontier of Magick. This is where the pedal hits the metal; this is where the wild adventure begins. For many adult occultists, this is also a return to childhood which can be a very scary place for some.

That being said; familiars and their purpose are left to your imagination. A companion (friend), a bodyguard, and yes even lovers are all applications for Servitor work. However let me come with a warning, the more you feed a servitor the stronger and more independent it can become. As such I advise highly against creating servitors for sexual gratification. You may end up giving birth to a hag or a succubus (a result of uncontrolled mutation), which in the end will make your life miserable. It would be better to create a wing(wo)man to help bolster your confidence to gain a physical mate. My point ultimately is, just like sigils, there is no limit on what a servitor can do, look like or become. The only limit is your imagination. If a sigils is a magickal computer program, Servitors are magickal robots, just shy of becoming Magickal AI.

Servitors are astral constructs. Servitors can cause physical change.

Practical use for servitors include:

An assistant in solo magickal work.

A protector for your house.

An assistant for keeping your workspace clean.

To name just a few.

Okay I get it! How do I MAKE one?

First rule: Temper your enthusiasm with caution. Respect the ritual you are about to perform.

Second Rule: We do not create accidents; make sure you truly want to create a servitor. These are not toys, they are very real beings created from your energies, they are in short, your children. Be a responsible parent.

Third Rule: Always, always, always, set up rules and restrictions to keep your servitors exactly that. Without rules, a servitor has the potential to become an Egregore and no longer under your control.

Optional but highly recommended: When I create servitors I get into the habit of breaking down ones I no longer use and incorporate them into the newer, upgraded models. I had a bad experience with leaving “junk servitors” unattended only to have them haunting my dreams and bumping into me in the middle of the night. If you are down with a servitor, release the energy and let it be free. This act prevents the buildup of malice and negative energies from neglected thought forms. Keep your workspace clean, in the astral and in the physical.

Now that we have that established let me begin.

As always with Chaos Magick, there is no right or wrong way to do this. What I offer you is what has worked for me. Tweak it for your purposes. (For me) It always helps to have a template to start with, but YOUR magickal walk is exactly that, yours not mine; you are the final Judge on what you are willing and able to commit to such a practice.

Step 1: State the purpose of your Servitor

Create a sigil or series of sigils which will define the purpose of your servitor. “Protect my home,” “Keep my house clean,” so on and so forth. Make as many sigils as you need. This is the easy part, feel free to find my article on sigil making in this blog.

Step 2: Create a body for your Servitor

You have two options here.

Option A:

You can bind them to a fetish like is a doll, figurine or even a drawing of your own design. I am a naturally arts and crafts kind of person so this is my preferred method.

Option B:

However if for whatever reason I don’t not have the time or money to create a physical representation of my servitor, I use meditation and create the servitor in my mind and in astral space.

Regardless, the process requires the same amount of energy, effort and IMAGINATION. You must visualize the servitor. How tall is it? Does it have limbs? Can it speak? It can take hours to create a body for your servitor, but you need to define as many of its functions and characteristics as possible. Its body needs to be a vivid as possible. Some of my servitors have looked like Lovecraftian horrors, while one of my longtime companions is a very cute four foot tall blonde elf girl who speaks in wind chimes.

Step 3: Bind your sigils in the body of the servitor, and put in its safety protocols.

Binding your sigils can be as simple as drawing them inside your picture, carving them into your doll, or imagining the sigils being put in place of where its “heart” or “battery” may be. The point is to make sure your sigils are part of your servitor. Once this occurs, and you are convinced the two have become one, a safety should be put into place. As I said before, without a leash or restrain, your servitor has cart-blanche to run amok and out of your control. You have again, to options here: A command word or a counter sigil. The command word can be: “Stop!” “Sit!” “Go away!” It is best to keep it simple; although I know a few people who used poetry for particularly devious machines to make sure not everyone can shut them down. That is the key to command words however, anyone can use them. A servitor must be compelled once a person speaks a word or command phrase to abide by its programming.

Safety Method A: Command Words

Creating a command word is as simple as touching your servitor (if you used a fetish, this is easier) and speaking plainly to them “When I say <x> you will do <y>” (X and Y are your phrase and its action.) Repeat this as many times as you need to remember or until you feel you servitor is ready to comply. You can put as many command words on your servitor as you want, just be careful not to use the same word to do multiple things, or that they words are counterproductive to its mission. You could confuse the crap out of it.

Safety Method B: Counter Sigils

The second method, counter sigils, are kind of a fire and forget method. It lets a servitor know where it is or isn’t allowed to be. This requires you to name your servitor and upon naming it, creating a sigil of its name. You must decide if this sigil is a ward or a summoning upon its creation. You do not need to commit much thought to this nor does it change the method of how the sigil is created, the intent is good enough. “This sigil means you are welcome to work in this place,” or “This sigil prevents you from going into this place,” Is good enough of a declaration for this method to work. I have seen people bind servitors in boxes with this method and let them out when needed, while others have put the symbols on doors and the like to let servitors know where they should go.

Step 4: BRING YOUR CREATION TO LIFE!!!!!

The ritual can be as elaborate or mundane as you want. However I will tell you, the more elaborate the more powerful your servitor will be in the long run. I have used a simple hand flick gesture (like turning on a light) to activate some, they only lasted a few days before the broke down. My longtime companion servitor had entire weeks of music and food dedicated to her and if she didn’t have any safety protocols in place, probably would have become an Egregore by now. Still, perform a ritual that lets the servitor know it is born. Throw it a birthday party, show it around the house, get silly, get childish. There is no right or wrong way to invite this new entity into your home, just know, the more gnosis you feed it, the better.

Step 4:

Regular maintenance of your servitor is a must. Your servitor must be in your mind from time to time. If you forget about it, it loses energy and dies. While, just thinking about it is okay, offerings or rewards are much more potent. For my lesser servitors I give them a drop of life force when they have done well. For my companion, I have treated her to donuts and milk. The key is to understand the relationship between you and your servitor. Unless you set them free, they cannot live without you. If you forget them, they will die. Woe to the chaote who creates a servitor with no restrictions and then neglects them, you may create a vengeful spirit to infest your house. So reward you servitor when they have done their duties and let them know you still care about them.

Dismantling your Servitors:

I include this part because all good occultists know the value of banishment. Some servitors outlive their usefulness and thus need to be released back into the cosmos. This is not a cruel thing to do, as a matter of fact; actively releasing your unused servitors is very humane. It is cruel to leave a bound servitor unattended to die an agonizing death of forgetfulness and neglect.

Dismantling is simple. Take the abject or thought of you servitor and tell it “You are free” or “I set you free” Imagine all of the bindings and words leaving and falling apart into harmless light. If you have a fetish, set it ablaze or destroy it in some gentle way. Make sure that the object can no longer physically house the servitor. IT is a very good practice to tell it, that it has performed well and it is time for it to move on. If the servitor doesn’t seem to want to leave then you may have to perform this a few time. My companion didn’t want to leave me when I tried to banish her the first three times, she was so fiercely loyal that I gave her a second birthday and still keep her to this day.

That is servitor making in a nutshell.

I am sure many of you have questions or will want me to elaborate. So feel free to ask questions if you need help. This is a basic outline, I am vague for a reason to encourage you to go out there and find what works for you. Just be safe and Chaos Magick responsibly.

#servitors #chaos #34

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