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idksmtms · 4 months

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You Are Not One Of Us (Poseidon x Norse Goddess!reader) - Part 2

Full Request

AN: You know shit’s serious when you have to hand-write the outline for a fic in a notebook… My hands actually hurt from how furiously I typed this. I hope you enjoy it because what was the pain for???

Summary: The god of the sea and the goddess of love and war are falling in love, but betrayal is afoot.

Word count: 9,713 - holy shit this is sm longer than I planned

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, age gap (even tho they both thousands of years old), god racism?? Idk they act like “foreigner gods” is a bad thing, lusting, p in v s*x, fingering, noncon voyeurism, liking the fact that he looks older (is this a warning???), (please let me know if I missed any)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not claim to own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so.

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

You followed Hermes around the entire flower display, oohing and aahing at the different little flowers that you wouldn’t have even noticed had he not pointed them out to you. You could feel the eyes on you again, a weight on the back of your neck but you ignored them until you had made a full turn of the flower display. You glanced in the direction of his throne, the way he sat with his right ankle over his left knee, spread wide and domineering, leaning back as if he was the picture of ‘unbothered’. But his eyes continued to follow you, and as you looked at his face, you met his gaze and time himself must have stopped the world for both of you.

You felt like you had never taken a breath before this moment, as if this was the first time you had felt what it was like to truly feel air enter your lungs. It wasn’t just his eyes itself that did it, though the dark blue was the most beautiful colour you had ever witnessed (and knew you would ever witness). It was the way he looked at you, as if he, a god, couldn’t quite believe you existed. It made everything inside you seize up, as if each muscle had been tightened then locked and the key was to… you didn’t know what exactly. Have him hold you? Have him… have him kiss you? Gosh you had never desired a kiss so much in your life thus far.

You slipped your arm from Hermes’ while he spoke to someone else that had come to join both of you and walked off almost in a trance. You knew exactly where you were headed though, and with careful steps made your way to stand directly in front of the god of the sea. His face did not change, but his eyes did not leave you. He looked up at you from his seat, waiting for you to speak first.

You had once found it so easy to smile, so easy to speak and chat and spread joy with your mere presence. Standing in front of him now, you seemed to have forgotten everything you were once able to do. How does one smile? How does one speak? How does one even breathe anymore? Then, slowly, you forced yourself to gain a hold of your own mind, to banish these ludicrous thoughts to its very depths, and allowed your face to relax, the corners of your lips turning up and your eyes squinting just so. You folded your hands in front of you and bowed your head a tad in greeting.

“Hello, I hope watching me all evening has been entertaining,” your smile turned cheeky and Poseidon raised an eyebrow as he noted the sparkle in your eye. Then he smiled, rather gently for such an imposing man, and dipped his head in a nod.

“Forgive me, if I have made you uncomfortable.”

“Oh not at all, who doesn’t enjoy being the centre of attention for a handsome god?” You replied, shrugging your shoulders and grinning at him. Poseidon’s brow raised again, but this time his lips quirked up in a smirk of his own. He shifted in his seat, sitting up just a tad bit straighter.

“A handsome god? Hm, I might prefer that title more than god of the seas,” he joked, and a giggle fell from your lips before you could stop it. His smile widened at the sound, at the way it seemed to sort of fall with your breaths. “And it has been, entertaining I mean, you are rather… interesting.” You pouted jokingly at his words, stepping closer to his throne so your dress brushed his knees.

“Just interesting? After I called you handsome?” You teased, and now it was Poseidon’s turn to chuckle, a deep sound that seemed to rumble out of his chest and made your stomach feel warm.

“I think my true thoughts about you may not be appropriate for a first meeting,” he finally said, voice deep and more hushed than before. He looked up at you through his lashes and your entire body felt like it was sizzling. Every cell was suddenly vibrating and you thought you might pop out of existence.

“Why would they not be appropriate?” You whispered, leaning forward even more, as if you couldn’t help but want to be closer to him. One side of his mouth pulled up in a smile and he sighed, as if it was tiring to even think of the reason.

“I would like you to come back to Olympus, who knows how you would feel about what I am thinking.” You shivered, at the way his voice seemed to vibrate down your spine, at the darkness that began to cloud his eyes, at the desperate and sudden need to clamber onto his lap and press your lips to his that now filled your body.

“I can guarantee you,” you began, licking your lips and leaning forward until both hands were on the armrests of his throne. “That whatever you say will have me running back even quicker.”

Poseidon swallowed, lips parting as he sucked in a breath. Your faces were so close now, noses almost touching, and he could feel the warmth of your skin gently touch his cheeks. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. Now that you were so close, you could see the smallest flecks of gold interspersed in the dark blue of his irises, could see the grey beginning to touch the hairs on his temples. Your mouth opened, as if you were going to say more, as if you were going to kiss him-

“Little goddess!” Loki called, and you popped up quickly, turning away in a whirl of fabric.

You walked off to where his voice had sounded from as he beckoned you to come chat with him and Hermes once more. Poseidon watched you skip away, as if you hadn’t just been a hair’s breadth from his face. He stared at the fluttering fabric following behind you, at the glimpse of your smooth leg and the blue hair that billowed around your head, and he let out a deep breath. He looked away from the direction you had gone, only to meet eyes with Hestia and Hephaestus in the corner, smirking so teasingly that he felt his entire body begin to burn.

You were luckier than he, for Loki and Hermes had not noticed the way you had almost fallen victim to your own innate desires and whims. Your cheeks were flushed and you pressed a cold hand to each, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath before smiling up at the two. They began speaking at you about something or other and you glanced back from the direction you had come. You met eyes with Poseidon and snapped your gaze away, cheeks starting to burn once more.

After a performance by a few of the muses, gorging yourselves on ambrosia and the polishing off of many jugs of wine, Odin decided it was time for everyone to return to Asgard. He offered an invitation in return to Zeus and the Greek gods, that they would be welcomed to Valhalla if they ever decided to visit Asgard, and while they offered words of praise and assent and reassurance, everyone knew there would be no reciprocal visit.

You danced the rest of the night away after your moment with the sea god, switching between the arms of Hermes, Loki, Thor and even Baldr. Poseidon had mingled with some of his nieces and nephews, but had largely remained on his throne from where he could watch you best. You were a vision, a whirl of colour, and watching you dance and laugh and just be merry seemed to soothe something in his heart. He wanted to provide it for you for the rest of eternity.

“I hope to see you again soon,” you told Hermes as you all gathered near the bridge to say your goodbyes. “I had a wonderful time.”

“Yes, we must meet again, perhaps you could return to Olympus for another performance of the muses?” Hermes sounded so hopeful, and you smiled and nodded jovially, excited to see another beautiful piece. It was rather unfortunate that you had such different ideas of how it would go in your heads, such different ideas of each other, in your heads.

You waved him goodbye and began to turn away before someone cleared their throat next to you. You turned your head to see who it was, though you already had a feeling you knew. His presence could not be missed, even if one didn’t lay eyes on him. You could feel it hovering over your shoulder, the power of the seas gently brushing against your elbow as you turned to look at him.

“It was lovely to meet you, Y/n,” his voice was quiet and you had to clench your hands together to stop your entire body from shaking like you were in a hurricane.

“Likewise,” you answered breathily. If you even tried to continue speaking you were sure your voice would crack and you would spill words that hadn’t even been in your mind before they started coming out of your mouth.

“I would like to offer you an invitation,” he began, looking straight into your eyes. If you didn’t know any better you might think he was actually nervous to ask this of you. Poseidon knew that if he didn’t face you head on, didn’t force it out of himself, he may never gather the courage to ask you. “A visit to one of my favoured spots on Earth, a beach that is-”

“Yes. I would love to.” Your cheeks turned pink as you realised you hadn’t waited for him to finish his sentence but he only smiled, eyes twinkling and creased, lips thinned out. You bowed your head to try and hide your face but he just chuckled and ran a finger down your arm. As if you weren’t already filled with a fire that couldn’t be put out… You gulped, pressing your thighs together for a moment before whispering a garbled goodbye and walking away. Poseidon clenched his hand into a fist at his side.

You had taken to strolling along the cliffs of the fjords now that you had returned from Olympus. The sound of the water far below reminded you of Poseidon, the crashing of the waves against stone on a particularly stormy day helped you think of his face, his voice. You didn’t know when he would finally set a date for the invitation, how he would get you to this favoured beach. Your anticipation was beginning to claw at you from the inside, like talons digging into the lining of your stomach when you thought of each day that had passed with no word from him. You hoped that he would find you here, so close to the sea, and you hoped he would do it quickly. It had been a week now, and you were slowly starting to lose hope.

You walked to the very edge of the cliff and stared straight down into the water. It was almost black, capped with pure white foam as it swished against the rocky cliffs. The sound of it almost had you missing the crushing of hooves on grass behind you. You turned to find a beautiful white stallion gently trotting up to you. His coat was so pure and shiny it was almost silver. Wings sprouted from his back, beautiful and feathered that he flapped once before folding them back against his body. You stared, mouth agape, as the pegasus trotted up to you, stopping just in front of where you stood and gently snuffling his nose against your cheek. You leaned back, careful of the cliff edge, giggled at the ticklish feeling of his lips against your cheek, his hot huffed breaths fanning over your face. The stallion stepped back so you could come forward and away from the sharp drop before gently stamping his two front feet into the grass, lowering his head and the wing closest to you. You stared for a moment, hoping against hope that this was finally the fruition of the invitation, but the stallion was impatient and huffed loudly, stamping his feet harder and gesturing to his own back with a shake of his head.

“Alright, alright,” you breathed, caressing his head and mane with a soft hand before using the edge of his wing to step up and swing yourself onto his bare back. The stallion waited until you were settled before turning away from the cliff edge and trotting back a few paces. Then he turned to it once more and began galloping right for the edge, wings unfurling and flapping into the air as the breeze picked him up and sped both of you into the sky.

The feeling of being on the back of a pegasus as you flew through the sky was one you would not forget until the end of your days. The rush of cold air as it blew your hair behind you, the feeling of his warm coat under your legs, the sound of nothing but the flap of his wings and the howling of wind in your ears. For the first few minutes you gripped his mane but eventually you leaned back and threw your arms up into the air with a scream of joy, clinging to him only with your legs so you wouldn’t fall off.

You weren’t sure how long you flew, eventually bending at the waist and fully laying on his back so you could watch the clear sky above you pass away in an endless screen of blue. You felt him spread his wings out and slowly begin to tip downward into a descent. You began sliding forward slightly so you sat up and you caught sight of the ocean spreading out below you, as endless as the sky. The dark lines of waves rippling just below the surface dotted the entire area, some capped with foam like it had been painted on. You could see where it ended, where the water began to lap at sand and your heart seemed to flutter with the wind. As you began to drop even closer to the ground, stomach swooping with each dip lower, you noticed a solitary figure sitting at the edge of the water, just in reach of it so it lapped at the figure’s feet. Your heart began to thunder.

Pegasus trotted onto the beach with a thud so soft you barely felt it. Sand kicked up under his hooves and you felt the grit against the skin of your feet and legs. You felt giddy, clenching your legs tighter around the stallion as you approached the figure, happy that your dress had enough fabric to still cover your legs though you rode the winged horse. He stood as you approached, brushing off his linen pants. You could see that the hems were drenched in water and it made a tingle of warmth settle in your heart.

Poseidon smiled as Pegasus stopped just in front of him, bowing his head to the king of the seas and unfolding one of his wings so you could use it to step down. You swung your leg over, using one delicate foot on the edge of his wing to hop down in a flurry of fabric. You were barefoot already, and you instantly began spreading your toes into the warm sand, sighing at the feeling of it between your toes. He waited until the horse had trotted away to find its own entertainment before stepping closer and reaching out to hold your hand.

He had been desperate to feel your skin, to know if your hands were soft or you had callouses on the tips of your fingers from your sword fighting. Even just the hint he had gotten from touching your arm on Olympus had been enough to drive him wild. He wanted to know the warmth of your skin like he knew his own.

You smiled shyly, dropping your head to stare at the sand, but threaded your fingers through his, as if the thought of letting go was simply impossible. His hands were rough, but not unpleasantly so, and you thought they would feel amazing on your skin in other places. You stepped closer to him, so that if you moved any closer your bodies would be pressed together, and looked up into his eyes. He smelled like a fresh ocean breeze, like the salt of the sea and something so intoxicating that you wanted to press your nose into his neck and inhale.

Poseidon loved the feeling of your little hand in his own, your fingers (which he discovered were soft despite your skill with a sword) fit perfectly between his own, your palm pressed right to his, your pulse points brushing together. With his other hand, he reached up and dug his fingers into your hair, moving it back so it draped over your shoulder, so he could slip his fingers through the strands and feel each one caress his hand. You closed your eyes, leaning into the feeling of his hand and sighed happily.

“I’m glad you came,” he told you quietly, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“I’m glad you invited me,” you replied, voice hushed as you turned your head to kiss the tip of his thumb gently before tipping your head back to stare into his eyes once more. He was mesmerised, drunk on your presence, lost to you.

You giggled then, a small girlish thing that made a smile break out on his lips and made him feel giddy. He had not felt giddy in aeons. You turned to the ocean and tugged on his hand, beginning to walk along the beach, your feet splashing in the surf.

“Did you know that the ocean is my favourite place in all the realms?” You told him, quirking up your brow teasingly as you kicked some of the water into the air, watching the droplets sparkle in the sunlight. Poseidon just watched you, watched every movement, hoping he wouldn’t miss a single thing you did. He saw your dress ride up your leg, expose the smooth skin, and he wanted to push it up even further, to tear it off of you completely and see you bare. “Even before we met, they were my favourite. I often go swimming in the water of the fjords, it is the perfect temperature in the summer months. You should join me,” you shrugged, smirking as you walked slightly away from him, stretching your arms out so you could still hold his hand while you waded further into the water until the hem of your dress was soaked and the waves lapped halfway up your calves.

“I would be delighted,” he breathed out in that deep voice of his that had your insides turning to mush. You wanted to feel his voice. Was that even possible? You wanted to feel it inside you, through you, to merge it into your skin. Maybe you were cursed…

Both of you continued walking along the shoreline, occasionally wading deeper or shallower but always touching the water. You talked of home, of Valhalla and the fjords, of your brothers and parents, of Loki and his stories. You told him all you could about yourself and then some, whispering words you had never dared to admit to yourself. In return he listened, offered stories of his own realm in the sea, of the histories of the gods of his own pantheon, of Greece itself. He told you of the existential dread he had begun to feel before you had fluttered into his life, how everything had felt just bearable before you. He would speak forever if it meant you looked at him the way you did, eyes wide, lips just slightly parted, drinking in everything he had to say.

You walked until the sun began to set and your voices began to drip away because of how much you had spoken. You stared at the darkening edges of the sky and knew you would need to return home so as not to worry Odin and Frigg. You stopped in the water, the waves lapping at your knees and your toes digging into the soft sand under the water. You turned to face him, reaching to hold his other hand as well and smiling up at him.

“You have given me the best day I have ever experienced in a thousand years of existence,” you told him, biting your lip as you caressed the backs of his hands with your thumbs. “I hope to see you again soon.”

“Of course,” he gripped your hands tighter, pulling you in close until your chests pressed together. He leant down so your noses brushed together and your lips parted as you sucked in a breath.

“Are your thoughts about me still too inappropriate to tell?” You whispered, and you could feel his lips brush yours with every word.

“Even more so,” he breathed out, his voice fanning over your lips.

“I would gamble that mine are worse,” your voice was becoming breathy and raspy, throat suddenly dry as you gulped.

“I would doubt that very much,” he replied, pressing his body impossibly closer. You could feel him crowding you, the way he seemed to surround you with his broad shoulders and thick arms and you shivered, stomach muscles pulsing.

“Tell me one, the most appropriate, I suppose,” you joked, a slight glint in your eyes.

“I could not live without you. If you were to be taken from me, I would not need the humans to die out for my existence to cease,” and as you gasped, he brought his lips to meet yours.

You tasted sweet, like the freshest pomegranate, or the softest date in the bowl. He pressed his mouth more firmly against yours, kissing you like it was impossible not to continue after he had done it once. His beard rubbed against your cheeks, soft yet coarse, tickling your skin. You gasped into his mouth, reaching up to grasp the back of his neck and pull yourself up a little. His lips felt like softened butter, and you opened your mouth to allow his tongue to plunge in. You moaned, a sound you had never made before, and pressed yourself to his body like a cat to its owner's leg. He huffed against your mouth, groaning and grunting as if he couldn’t control the animal inside of him.

You kissed again, and again, and again, until your lungs were burning, until your cheeks were rubbed raw and your thighs hurt from clenching them together. You pulled away from his lips, eyes still closed, and were hit with a wave of water up to your face. You squealed and opened your eyes, not realising that the water had begun to rush around the both of you, waves pushing and pulling the shore so harshly that foam was left behind on the sand. The skirt of your dress was soaked and heavy, hanging like a weight from your shoulders. Your feet had succumbed to the sand and it took some strength to pull them out. You stared at the god of the seas, and he had the decency to look sheepish as he dried your dress and led you back to Pegasus. All you could do was laugh and laugh until your stomach hurt.

Ever since you had kissed the god of the seas, you had thought of nothing else. Every crevice of your mind was filled with him, the sight of him, the smell of him, the sound of him. You heard his grunts as you tried to sleep, saw his face as you tried to wash. You seemed to be a goddess of curses too, because if this was love, then it was a curse upon anyone who experienced it. How was anyone supposed to live when all they thought of was the person they loved?

But today would be better. Today would be better because Hermes had invited you to watch a theatre piece by the muses, which would mean a trip to Olympus. Which would mean seeing your beloved. You had talked Odin and Frigg’s ears off the night before about how much you had loved Olympus, how glad you were to go again, and they had smiled at you like amused parents.

As you entered Olympus, you felt a bit nervous. You hadn’t been alone the last time, and now as you walked across the bridge and into the gardens between the palaces, you felt all the eyes on you. People stared as you walked in, looking for Hermes or even Poseidon. Wind spirits whispered, minor gods chuckled behind their hands, and you felt your cheeks begin to burn before you caught sight of your friend.

“Hello, hello!” He called, waving as he made his way around a group of cloud spirits carrying dinner plates. You giggled and waved back, hopping the few steps to meet him.

“Thank you for inviting me! I really enjoyed myself before,” you told him, and he smiled brightly, brushing it off with a wave of his hand.

“I enjoyed your company, I am glad to have you back,” he told you, a pink tinge to his cheeks, but you just laughed and slapped him on the arm.

“Where do we need to go?” You asked as you began to look around, not so secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of your sea god.

“Just this way,” and Hermes began leading you toward the large lawn they used for performances by the muses.

You seemed to watch Olympus with such wide eyes, gasping and squealing at every little thing that was unfamiliar to you, and Hermes felt like his heart was no longer his own. He wanted to cut it out of his chest and offer it to you on a silver platter if it would make you happy.

He led you to where seats had been set up for anyone to come and watch the muses perform. It was one of many they did, so people would most likely come and go, with a few who had more time on their hands bothering to stay the entire time. You chose seats right near the front and were settling in just as the performance began. Hermes mentioned that it had been written by Thalia and Melpomene together, so it was bound to be both funny and tragic. You nodded happily, then pressed a hand to his mouth to shush him as the muses made their way onto the stage and began to speak. You were enraptured the entire time, and by the end of the piece you had laughed and cried so many times that your cheeks were red and your eyes were puffy. Your face hurt from smiling and your eyes hurt from crying but you would not have traded that time for anything.

“So I assume that you enjoyed it?” Hermes asked hopefully. You nodded vigorously, going off on a tangent about the different pieces of dialogue and the setting and the way you had cried when Melpomene had lay down to die.

“HERMES!” A voice boomed, and he let out such a weary sigh that you almost began to cry for him. His face had dropped and he looked at you in sorrow, shaking his head before mumbling a few curse words to himself.

“I’m so sorry, dearest, but I must run off for a few moments. Duty calls,” and with a flap of his shoes, he was off to go find out what message his father had for him to deliver now. You stared after him for a moment before laughing quietly to yourself and turning on your heel to see if you could find your sea god up here or you would have to throw yourself into the ocean for his company.

It seemed to be that if you thought of him, he appeared, because it was right then that your sea god appeared in your vision, walking up to you with a subdued smile on his face. You would never stop being thankful for the fact that you were the only one who got to see the smiles that took up his whole face.

“Well hello stranger,” you singsonged, trying to suppress your smirk but your mouth still twisting just so to the side.

“What is a norse goddess doing on Olympus?” He asked teasingly, leaning in close to you and gently running a finger down the bare skin of your arm. You shivered, shoulders shaking, and he chuckled. “I want to show you something, join me?” And you said yes without an ounce of hesitation, Hermes forgotten.

When Hermes returned from being yelled at by his father about sending a message to some hero who was beginning to get too big for britches, he couldn’t find you. He searched around the stage area and through some of the nearby gardens to no avail. Then, just as he had finally convinced himself that you had returned to Asgard, he spotted the end of your dress disappearing in the distance. He began to call out to you but just as the sound began to come out, it died in his throat as he noticed the hand you placed on his uncle’s arm, the smile you shot up at him as both of you walked away. What could you possibly have to do with Poseidon? Hermes began to follow.

You allowed Poseidon to lead you wherever it is he wanted to, just happy to be in his company. You chattered his ear off about the play, explaining every detail that had mesmerised you, and he just listened with a growing smile. To have you here, by his side, just speaking to him was better than he could have imagined. He understood now why the humans valued their marriages so much. He wanted all of that with you.

You crossed through a patch of trees and found cliffs facing you, rising so sharply that the only way to get up them would be to fly. Poseidon led you to a little crack in the imposing wall, covered by long hanging vines that crawled up the cliffs. It would be extremely difficult to spot the little entrance, to note the difference in those vines compared to those on the cliffs, but it was the only place where they hung off of the cliff rather than clinging onto it. He pushed through the wall of leaves and stems, holding it open for you. He held your hand as you walked through the little cave entrance and you clenched it tightly when you saw what was at the other end.

A beautiful lake, not too large but not too small, with crystalline waters as still as a statue. It was bordered by large boulders that would be easy to clamber onto and rest on to bathe in the sun. Beyond the boulders there were trees completely surrounding it, enclosing the space. You stared into the lake’s waters, and realised you could see all the way to the bottom. There were rocks, smooth and huge like the boulders, all along the bottom. Little water plants sprouted between them and in the cracks and the little buds made you smile and laugh breathily. You turned back to your lover, staring at him with such reverence that he had to look away. It was the most beautiful place you had ever seen. And now it was your place, just for the two of you, together.

You walked to him until your chests pressed together and you kissed him sweetly, the sound of your lips sticking together fluttering into the quiet air. He smiled into it, opening his mouth and delving his tongue into yours, the feeling of his beard against your cheeks and upper lip almost tickling. He slipped his hands down your back, grasping your behind, but you giggled and pulled away before he could properly get his hands on it. He groaned, low and deep and annoyed but you just continued laughing before stepping away from him and near a low rock. You stared into his eyes, face serious, as you began to untie the straps that held your dress over your shoulders. Your cheeks were flushed, and nerves made your hands shake, but you continued until one strap was untied. It slipped down your back and your chest, stopping just on top of your breast. You reached for the other, untying it but not letting it go, bringing it down with your hand and allowing the dress to slowly slip down your body. It exposed your chest first, goosebumps popping up on your breasts before your nipples tightened and began to pebble. Poseidon’s eyes were locked on you, his breath shallow and his entire body tightening. He could feel the blood rushing in his veins, could feel the heat suddenly clinging to his skin, and he gulped, clenching his hands as he watched you lower the dress further, expose your stomach, your pussy, then drop it to the floor. Both of you let out shaky breaths as he stared at you, at the ravenous look in his eyes. It almost hurt to breathe, to move, but you forced yourself to walk into the water, looking back over your shoulder as you stepped into the water. He stared at your back, at the muscles in your legs as you walked, at the round backside that tempted him like nothing else.

You immersed yourself in the water until only your head was above it, your arms and legs swishing slowly to keep you up. You stared at him like a siren, eyelids fluttered low and eyes hazy, lustful. You licked your lips, those precious lips that tasted better than ambrosia, and he lifted the shirt over his head, slipping his thumbs into the hem of his pants and pushing it down. You traced your eyes over the defined muscles of his abdomen, at the thick flesh that formed his arms, strong and fierce and so so perfect. His thighs were wide, strong, defined with muscle, and you had never desired to sit on a person before this moment. He was truly a god.

His skin was slightly bronzey with pinkish undertones, and you wanted to run your hands over every inch of it. You stared at him, at his cock, and you clenched your thighs together so hard at the pangs of pure lust that hit you that you almost went under. He was… he was what desire looked like. He was thick, and long, and a red colour that made it look almost painful. You wanted to soothe that ache.

You continued treading water, waiting for him to follow after you, and he did, splashing into the water with a lot less care than you had. You would have giggled, but he was on you so quickly, wrapping his arms around you and caging you against his body. He was warm, even in the water, and his muscles were firm. You reached up to kiss him, to let him lave his tongue inside your mouth to his heart’s content as you pressed one hand to his cheek and felt his beard beneath your fingers. Your arms came up to wrap around his neck, pressing you as close as physically possible to him. You would jump into his skin if you could. You wrapped your legs around his waist and gasped when his member pressed to the sensitive skin of your core.

You had felt the slickness even before you had entered the lake, the way it made your lips slide against each other and made walking a chore. You had felt the squish of it against your inner thighs, warm and wet and so desperate for Poseidon to ease the ache it ebbed from. He brought his hand down to the apex of your thighs as he moved away from your lips, kissing over your cheek and down to your neck. He pressed it with kisses, laved it with licks, and you quivered in his arms as he began gently touching you between your legs.

His fingers were hesitant at first, softly prodding at your lips before slipping between them and pressing the little nub right at the top. You jolted, moaning into the air at the electric feeling. You had never felt like this before, had never felt pleasure so deep. He rubbed it, pressing and releasing, pressing and releasing. You quivered in his arms, shook and whimpered as your thighs and arms clenched tighter around him. Poseidon breathed heavily into your neck, licking your shoulder and biting it softly as he pressed a finger into you, pushing past the initial tension of your entrance to press another of his fingers inside and against your walls.

You were so warm. Hotter than the waters of phlegethon, and his movements hurried. He wanted to be inside you, to sink himself to the very hilt and lavish in the heat and wetness you provided. His fingers pumped in and out of you so quickly that the water around you began to slosh and splash. The way his hands rubbed your insides felt like little fires had been started inside your body and the only way to survive was to let them burn everything to ash. It built and built, your breaths getting heavier, moans getting louder, hands clenching tighter. Then you were cresting the pleasure, reaching its peak, shaking and forcing your body onto his hand as much as you could, relishing the press of his knuckles against your entrance, his thumb against the little nub at the top.

You panted into his neck, laying your head down on his shoulder as all your muscles released and you felt like you were made of cloud mist, held together only by his grip on you. But Poseidon didn’t slow down, just pulled his fingers out of you and spread your thighs a little wider. You groaned, shifting your body, but he just quietly shushed you, rubbing your back and allowing you to settle in his arms again before pressing his cock to your entrance. You gulped, pressing yourself down so he would finally be inside you, so you would finally know what it was like to be joined as one. He groaned, loud and monstrous as he pressed fully into you. You gripped him so tightly that he forgot how to breathe, knowing nothing but the heat surrounding his cock and the whimpers you breathed against his ear. Your nails dug into his shoulders and he bit down onto your neck, a little harder this time. You keened, moving your hips, hoping for something, anything. He shifted his hips, and the drag of his veins against your walls made a high-pitched moan wail from your lips. It was like being shot through with electricity, like every limb was paralysed and forced to feel the sudden shocks that emanated from your core.

Poseidon began to move in rhythm, pushing and pulling his hips, addicted to the rub of your walls. He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear past the rushing in his ears. All he knew was you, pressed against his body, your walls clamped around him, your thighs shaking as you tried to hold on.

Again and again and again. His thrusts became harder and harder, erratic, his pelvis squishing your nub every time he came back inside you. One of his feet dug into the sand and the other pressed against the rock that followed the sand. He used it to keep his balance, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you up and down his member. You lay close to limp in his arms, letting the pleasure rock over you, through you.

He was close, so close. Electricity ran up his spine, down to his toes. He could feel it building, his stomach tightening. His cock felt too hard, too ready to explode, and with one more push inside you, he was there, bursting. He roared into the air, mouthing at your neck as sparks shot through him and his hips rutted into you without control. You could feel it twitching inside you, spurting inside you, the sudden warmth that flowed down your walls and disappeared into the water. You pulled back from his shoulder and kissed him fiercely, mouth open and cheeks hurting against his beard. Somewhere on earth, an earthquake shook a city.

Hermes had trailed a little too far when following you, and couldn’t figure out how both of you had disappeared through the rockface. He had heard your voices, had heard the quiet way they dissipated as if you had been walking away. He pressed on the cliffs in all sorts of places, contemplating if both of you had actually dared attempt to climb the menacing cliffs, when he heard a splash. He followed it to the vines, to the entrance to the lake, and snuck through. He walked until the edge of the cave-like passageway, sticking close to the walls. He peeked through, and saw the clothes on the floor, your dress in a heap near the edge of a boulder. Something thick and sticky filled his stomach and began to climb toward his throat. He dropped close to the floor and crawled into the sanctuary, hiding behind the boulders until he could view the lake from behind one of them.

The sight of you clinging to his uncle, wet arms wrapped around his neck as you kissed him like you were desperate, droplets of water on your face as it contorted in pleasure even while you pressed your mouth to Poseidon’s, made Hermes close his eyes and sit back against the boulder. He had seen Poseidon’s hands below the water, gripping your waist, pressing it to his own. He had heard the gasps you let out between kisses, the little moans in reply to Poseidon’s grunts. He wanted to gag. He pressed a hand to his mouth, clenched his eyes shut and pressed his head between his knees. This couldn’t be real. What he was seeing, what he was still hearing, couldn’t be real. A black anger, venomous and seething, like something he had never felt before, filled his belly. It was vicious, eating through his flesh, whispering hatred in his ears. He wanted to scream, to jump into the water and rip his uncle to shreds, to throw you off the side of Olympus. His hands began to shake and he pressed them to his ears to drown out the sounds of your coupling. His fingers dug into his hair and he pulled it until it felt like it was on the verge of being ripped out. He needed vindication. He deserved vindication.

Hermes sat there until his breath was closer to normal, then crawled back out the way he came. He stood outside the entrance to the lake and whispered curses at the both of you. His entire body felt red hot and he trembled with his anger. He stomped back toward the palace, scheming and trying to fit pieces together in his mind of what would hurt the both of you most. He wanted you dead. He wanted you gone. You were the reason this awful thing sat in his heart, this parasite that was eating him alive. The only way to do that was to get Zeus to kill you. It was the only answer.

Hermes’s walk began to slow as he approached the main courtyard, as he saw the paths that wound around the main palace and noticed the side door that allowed the cloud spirits in and out. It all fell together in his head. A small smile of relief made its way onto his lips. Yes, yes, it was all falling into place. It would be easy, too easy. And what would make Zeus angrier than his lightning bolt going missing?

As you began to walk back from the lake, the only hint of your adventure being the wet tips of your hair and the slightest limp in your walk, you could hear the sound of rushing and yelling and thunder. Instantly you were on guard, body seizing up and eyes turning serious. Poseidon walked a little faster, staying just ahead of you as you entered the main courtyard of Olympus and headed into the castle where the commotion seemed to be coming from.

“WHO HAS STOLEN IT?! ANSWER ME. WHICH ONE OF YOU DARE STEAL FROM YOUR KING?” You could hear Zeus clear as day even before you entered the throne room, staring at the morose pantheon as you walked in behind Poseidon. When Zeus noticed the new entries, he whirled on his brother and shoved a finger in his face. “Was it you? Jealous of my power, my position?”

“What has happened?” Poseidon asked, though an anger suddenly seethed in his stomach at the fire in his brother’s eyes and the finger pointed at his face.

“MY LIGHTNING BOLT HAS BEEN STOLEN!” Zeus screamed into the air, pacing in the middle of the gods as they all stood just in front of their thrones.

Hades turned to look at the both of you, Persephone clutched tight under his arm, and he shook his head as if to tell you to stay silent. Hephaestus and Hestia stood next to each other, arms brushing together and eyeing Zeus critically, as if this madness could only have been brought on by his own doing. You pursed your lips and shifted to stand hidden behind your lover.

“Confess. Right now. Who has stolen it?” Zeus spat, eyeing each of the gods who only looked away from his piercing gaze.

Poseidon noted the way Hermes glanced toward you, at the edges of your hair dripping onto your dress and leaving watermarks on your shoulders and back. His eyes were hard like onyx, and something akin to cruelty seemed to hide behind his face, the set of his mouth, but he passed it off as annoyance at his father. Ares noted you standing beside his uncle, and a frown overtook his face.

“She is not of Olympus, is it a coincidence that she is here and the lightning bolt has been stolen?” He voiced, pointing at you. Everyone turned to stare at you and your heart jumped into your throat. You began to shake your head, holding your hands up in surrender.

“No, this has nothing to do with me, I was nowhere near the palace,” you began desperately, eyes wide and mouth opening and closing to try and figure out how to appease them.

“She was with me, and we were far from here. She did not do this,” Poseidon’s voice was like a crack of lightning, truly a competition for his brother.

“You could’ve had someone else help you,” Zeus thundered, ignoring his brother and continuing to glare daggers at you now that the seed of doubt had been planted. “Return it at once.” “But I don’t have it! How am I supposed to return something I have not stolen?!” You cried desperately, tears now threatening your eyes.

“You refuse? Fine. You will be seized until the lightning bolt has been returned to its rightful place,” and before anyone could even take a breath, a glowing circle surrounded the floor around you and you disappeared in a flash of lightning, transported to something akin to a jail cell on the far side of Mount Olympus.

As you cried in the room of pure white, no door to leave through, the walls impenetrable to even your magic, the gods in Asgard received a message of the accusation lodged against you. Odin, though fuming, worried more for your safety, and sent an envoy of ravens to tell of their incoming arrival on Olympus to discuss these events. All the norse gods begged to accompany him, to aid in avenging their princess, but he only enlisted the help of Loki, knowing of your friendship with the Jotunn and that the trickster would be good help in getting out of a sticky situation.

On Olympus, Hermes watched you curl up in a corner of the room, cheeks stained with tears and eyes red, and guilt began to fill his heart. He had felt angry, vindictive, when he saw you kiss the god of the seas. But knowing that he had hurt you felt so much worse than any of that. He hated that you had chosen Poseidon, that you refused to love him back, but he hated this burning in his heart, this venomous, evil blackness that seemed to tinge his very insides as he listened to your quiet sobs. He didn’t want to hurt you, not like this. Though it felt too late to have this realisation, he knew he could do at least one thing to begin making it right.

Zeus sat on his throne, fuming. Lightning crackled in the sky, winds blew so fiercely that the humans had boarded themselves into their houses or sat at the altars of his temple, praying for his forgiveness. He would kill you. He would kill you and retrieve the bolt and send your divine corpse back to Odin and his people as a lesson.

Poseidon had been lost as to what to do next, he had already yelled at his brother, threatened war, interrogated almost all his nephews and nieces to no avail. He had even gotten on his knees in front of Zeus’s throne, swallowed his pride and begged his brother to believe him, to believe that you were innocent. Nothing. He had eventually fallen onto his throne, glaring daggers at his brother as his nieces and nephews whispered among themselves around the throne room, looking between him and Zeus. Hades, finally having let go of Persephone and ushering her to find her mother and a safe garden to stay in until he came and got her, made his way to stand behind Poseidon. He didn’t say a word, knowing his brother didn’t need to hear anything right now, and just placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Poseidon did not move.

The doors to the throne room burst open for the second time that day and Hermes ran in, the wings on his shoes still fluttering. He skidded to a stop just in front of Zeus’s throne, huffing out “father!” as he bent at the waist to catch his breath. All the gods turned to stare, Zeus raising an eyebrow as he stared contemptuously down at his son. Poseidon sat forward.

“I found the lightning bolt!” Hermes huffed, holding out the bolt to his father. A gasp floated around the room as they all stared at the buzzing lightning bolt in his hand. Zeus leaned over and snatched it out of Hermes’ hands, holding onto it so tightly that if it had been anything else it would have been crushed into dust.

“Where did you find it, son?” Zeus asked, eyes still on the lightning bolt.

“On Earth, father, thrown into the mountains of Rhodope,” he sighed, eyes flitting around to the other gods. They began to murmur, frowns marring their faces as they wondered how in the world the lightning bolt had ended up in the Rhodope mountains.

Zeus stared at his son, his gaze like stone, until the younger god looked away. Then he sighed and snapped his fingers so the bolt returned to its place and clapped his hands, a smile now on his face.

“Dionysus! This is now a celebration! Bring wine, the lightning bolt has returned,” and he began bellowing with laughter. Some of the gods joined in, tittering awkwardly, and Hera sighed so heavily and with such annoyance that even Zeus shifted away from the side which bordered her throne.

Poseidon stared at all that had just happened, at the relieved smile on Hermes’ face and the way Zeus was already back to joking with Ares. Anger, hot and boiling, seethed inside of him and he stood abruptly from his throne, glaring at his brother then heading for the door. He couldn’t be in here any longer while his love was trapped in some prison surely made to torture her very soul. Just as he reached the doors, they burst open once more and Odin stormed in, cloak billowing behind him as he marched up to Zeus’s throne.

“Where is my daughter?” He demanded, mouth set in an angry line.

“In my prison, she is accused of stealing my lightning bolt,” Zeus answered in an equally thunderous voice, standing and looking down at the man.

“Release her at once, she did no such thing.”

“How do you know? She appears in Olympus, the only outsider, and then my lightning bolt goes missing. This does not seem like a coincidence to me,” Zeus raised an eyebrow as he stared at Odin, daring the god to rebuke him. Odin opened his mouth as if he was about to argue but closed it and sighed, taking a deep breath in to gather his words.

“Release my daughter. Please,” he gritted out. “My people will never interact with yours again, will never step foot near Olympus again as long as you release her.” Zeus and Poseidon stared at Odin, one contemplating, the other heartbroken. Zeus nodded, standing from his throne and holding out his hand to Odin.

“It is agreed. Neither of our peoples will step foot in the other’s lands, will interact with the other, for the safety of our people,” Zeus’s voice was stoic, and he waited until Odin had nodded in return and slipped his hand into his own. They shook twice and Zeus snapped his fingers, turning his back on Odin to return to his throne.

“My daughter? Where is she?” Odin snapped, glaring daggers into Zeus’s back.

“Oh, you will find her outside with your trickster,” Zeus waved his hand in the air, voice unbothered, and Odin disappeared with a flash.

Poseidon fell back into his throne, all the air gone from his lungs. He stared at the spot where Odin had stood, where reality seemed to have collapsed, and a choked sound left his mouth. The promise still rang in his ears, the promise of separation, the promise of never seeing his love again until the day he was forgotten and disappeared into the dust. He clenched the arm so harshly that it broke off, and the other gods in the room turned to stare at him. He threw it onto the floor, cracking the marble, and disappeared, leaving only the scent of the sea in his wake.

At the base of Mount Olympus, Loki waited for something to happen, whether it be Odin returning with you or a call to fight. He paced in the dirt, murmuring threats of violence to himself, all the things he would do if you weren’t returned in an instant. And then, in a flash of light, there you were, kneeling in the dirt, dress torn, hair damp, and tears tracking down your cheeks. You stared around yourself as if you couldn’t truly believe you were no longer surrounded with nothingness. You pressed your hands into the dirt, feeling the mud squelch under your fingers and took a deep breath in, beginning to laugh happily. Being a goddess, you were so quick to take freedom for granted, you realised.

You stared up at Loki, a wide smile on your face when Odin appeared beside him in a flash of light. There was relief in his eyes, but something else too. Something akin to worry.

“Father! I promise, I promise, I did not steal that lightning bolt,” you began, pressing your hands together as your face fell.

“I know, little goddess, I know,” he soothed, patting the top of your head as you began to weep with relief. “But whoever has done this has caused consequences far beyond your imprisonment. From henceforth, we are not to speak with, to be near any of the gods of that pantheon,” he told you, smiling sympathetically down at you as your face fell.

“What?”

“I know you enjoyed Olympus, you had made friends with those gods, but it is the only solution, the best agreement,” and with another pat to your head he disappeared back to Valhalla.

You sat there, staring up at the sky where the clouds gathered to hide Olympus, as your head filled with… everything. You wanted to scream, to march up there and demand they let you in, let you see your lover. How could they do this? Accuse you of this, then rip him away from you? Your entire body began to quiver and you let out a scream from deep inside you. It was shrill and so loud that even the gods in the throne room paused at a distant sound of pain that reached their ears.

Loki walked over and knelt down in the dirt next to you, gently caressing your hair as you wailed into the air. It was the sound of an animal hurt, of a baby crying for its mother, of a lover separated. He whispered gently into your ear, promises of an eternity to recover, of lands yet to explore, of anything he could think of that may calm your screaming. Slowly, you stopped screaming and began sniffling, hiccuping with remnant sobs, and saying “no, no, no,” over and over again.

“They cannot take him from me. They will not.”

“Remember the story I told you, little goddess?” Loki asked, a frown marring his face as he looked down at you.

“I will not be like them,” you whimpered, lips quivering in anger and frustration, “I do not intend to lose.” And you stood from the dusty ground, dress ripped and torn, hair in disarray, mud splatters on your face, and pointed a finger toward Mount Olympus, a vow whispered on your lips.

Taglist: @thicficbich1, @zeeader, @josxkl1m

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absinthe-of-midnight · 5 months

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Rolls over

So Wolfwood may allude to a Psychopomp,

Psychopomps (from the Greek word ψυχοπομπός, psychopompós, literally meaning the 'guide of souls') are creatures, spirits, angels, demons or deities in many religions whose responsibility is to escort newly deceased souls from Earth to the afterlife.

Their role is not to judge the deceased, but simply to guide them. Appearing frequently on funerary art, psychopomps have been depicted at different times and in different cultures as anthropomorphic entities, horses, deer, dogs, whip-poor-wills, ravens, crows, vultures, owls, sparrows, and cuckoos.

One notable Psychopomp is Charon(which is also one of Pluto's five moons) the ferryman who collected coins as payment, whose name is a poetic form of χαρωπός (charopós) 'of keen gaze', referring either to fierce, flashing, or feverish eyes, or to eyes of a bluish-gray color.

bluish-gray...

Another Psychopomp is Mercury, guider of souls to the underworld and "messenger of the gods", planet and metal named after him, noted as “both destructive and creative”.

“The elusive, duplicitous Mercurius who consorts with the devil

is at the same time a redeeming psychopomp”,

“The fact that he can freely participate in both light and dark worlds without taint makes Mercurius the perfect meditating bridge."

The metal known as quicksilver for being fluid and because of it's colour:

Silver...

(Wolfwood I love you but finding a good shot of your eye-colour is a pain in the ass!)

Now in Stampede he doesn't have any of these eye-colours but his role as a Psychopomp is still alluded to via the undertaker title(those who were given burial rites are able to meet Charon and cross the river Styx) and of course, being outright called a guide(btw Saint Peter was also considered a Psychopomp:)).

Still with me? Now let's discuss Legato for a bit, This is still part of the Psychopomp thing because Orange might be doing something that's making me go crazy(in a good way).

In the manga Legato is Not a Psychopomp, he does have death imagery but invokes it via war and destruction, thus it associates him with Mars and iron, one well known iron-cyanide complex often used as a pigment is Prussian blue(Berlin blue, Paris blue) or "ferric ferrocyanide", and it looks like this:

Now reason I'm pointing out that he's not a Psychopomp in the manga is because one of the lovely participants in Tristampparty had pointed out in their rewatch that Legato's eyes are

a greyish-silver and that surprised me and got me thinking, is Orange trying to give him Psychopomp allusions too? How? *Rolls over again* through Charon? He guide souls deeper into the underworld through the river Styx which could be referenced in how he "guides" lost souls into EOM.

And then hit it me, hehe, he's–, guys, he's the fucking Archangel Michael, chief of the angels and archangels, "stand ready and enter before the glory of the Lord". Meditating the "law of god" and standing at the right hand of the throne of god(right hand man, get it?).

Given permission to bring "righteous judgment" on the souls of the damned and bring those who are "worthy" of god to the gates of heaven.

"Bring them to the afterlife" would make him a Psychopomp as michael does guide souls but if you recall earlier they do not and cannot judge souls in the end so while micheal is theoretically a Psychopomp he does not embody it in its truest form, Micheal's role is a judge, jury and executer.

“The Lord punish you.”

And That’s it, the difference between Wolfwood and Legato's roles as Psychopomps, it is guide vs. judge, which uh, could also tie back to the twins.

(muttering, guide vs. judge, guide vs. judge... *tosses this into the steadily growing pile of "Orange might be foreshadowing a Wolfwood v. Legato fight in the future."*)

#trigun #nicholas d. wolfwood #legato bluesummers #trigun maximum #trigun stampede #I sound insane and for that I apologize but I've been chewing on this for awhile #and thinking “surely not but mayhaps???”

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des8pudels8kern · 1 year

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If I were to write a Star Wars fic (which I won’t, as working full-time does not leave me with enough mental energy to be properly actively fannish), it’d be an epic AU where Obi-Wan also falls down the shaft at the climax of his fight with Maul, is presumed dead, and then pops up during the Clone Wars as a mysterious agent of chaos whose initial goal is just to rattle and provoke the Jedi into shedding at least a bit of their apathy disguised as serenity and their superiority complex (so, Obi-Wan choosing to help an entire planet of children caught in a horrific war was bad and aggressive, deserving of first repudiation and then probation, but when Knights and Masters order enslaved sentients into battle it’s duty and necessary to uphold the values of the Republic and thus Order?). He’s bitter, he’s angry, and he wants to destroy the Order. Well, the Order as it is. All talk, so little regard for actual decency, and no infrastructure in place to protect the children under their care.

There’d be a semi-humorous scene where Cody (who is... compromised, okay, he knows it, but this evil fallen force user is just different from the other evil fallen force users, okay) comes across Obi-Wan, bleeding from a fresh gash on his head (”What happened to you? - Oh, nothing, dear one; I just tripped.”) one eye clenched shut where the blood is dribbling down, yada yada, they do their usual song and dance about no, you question your allegiance and join my side, and then.

What’s that?

Cody bends down and picks up the thing that’s caught his attention. It’s round, and not quite flat, and ye--- yellow. He narrows his eyes at the infuriating pain in the ass in front of him.

“Tripped, huh? Deliberately, I assume?”

The man’s gaze flits down to the coloured lens balancing on Cody’s finger now, the exact same shade as his one open eye.

“When you arrived, the light of your presence overwhelmed me and caused me to falter. It can be quite challenging when one has delved as far into the dark as I have,” the fucker tries to lie to Cody’s face, voice as serene as the calmest of Jedi Generals fresh out of meditation, and maybe Cody needs to reconsider how trustworthy anything spoken in that tone really is.

Cody throws the lens at him, and the offending item manages to land on his chest, where blood has soaked into the shirt, and sticks to the fabric, staring at him accusingly.

“What kind of nerf-brained idiot fakes being a Sith? The entire Order is after you!”

The nerf-brain winces, then sighs and droops. He rubs a hand through his suddenly tired-looking face. The blood from his apparently actually self-inflicted head-wound that was meant to disguise the missing lens is smeared all over his cheek now, which looks ridiculous and is somewhat worrisome because Cody is used to bloodshed and knows that it’s usually not a good sign when people forget that they are bleeding. It does match the bone-deep exhaustion etched in the other man’s features, though, now that his mask of flirtatious nonchalance has dropped.

“In my defence, I honestly did not expect it to go this far.” He spreads his hands and pulls a somewhat forced-looking version of his usual boyish grin. “I assumed I would get in two, maybe three strikes before the Order went on alert and I got caught. When they didn’t, I decided to... provide further motivation.”

His right eye is grey-blue, as fathomlessly deep as the waters of Kamino, and Cody wonders what can drive a man to pretend to be evil incarnate to catch the attention of an organisation of essentially super-powered sentients in the middle of a war.

Another trickle of blood from the absolutely needless head wound snakes its way down the side of the man’s face, making it clear that, whatever his motivation might be it’s not a healthy sense of self-preservation.

Maybe Cody can get him to take out the other lens, too, so he can check his eyes for signs of a concussion.

And get a closer look at the colour.

...At least now he’s not compromised by a Sith anymore?

#not!fic #star wars #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #codywan #no i'm not one of those people who think the jedi were bad and deserved to be eradicated but they clearly needed some checks and balances #there are more than enough highly worrying events in obi-wan's backstory #and tbh anakin clearly would have benefitted from more mental health resources #ah i miss writing #can't i just win the lottery?#fake sith obi wan

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earthstellar · 10 months

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Just thinkin' about Nightshade: The Meaning of a Name

This started out as me thinking about how much I love their beast mode, and turned into thinking about their designation.

So, for those who might live in regions where Nightshade doesn't grow naturally, Nightshade is massively, massively poisonous.

So much so, that it's called Deadly Nightshade. In the UK, it's famous for being the plant that Macbeth probably used to poison Duncan's troops.

I always grew up hearing it called Belladonna, which is part of its Latin name, Atropa belladonna.

"Atropa" comes from "Atropos", the name of the Grecian Fate who severs the thread of life. (If you've seen the Disney Hercules movie, this is the Fate who cuts the thread with scissors.)

It has a beautiful purple and yellow flower, more reminiscent of Tarantulas' colours than Nightshade's.

It also features little black/dark purple berries.

Now, Nightshade is a great name for a bot that turns into an owl.

The name doesn't necessarily have anything to do with the plant.

However! I'm overthinking it anyway, so let's goooooo

Bad Implications!

What's super interesting is that Deadly Nightshade has some symbolic meanings in the UK/Europe; Namely, that Nightshade is one of the Devil's chosen plants, and that eating it (especially the berries) would bring Satan's wrath down upon the consumer as punishment.

It can represent danger, risk, betrayal, punishment, hopelessness, and sometimes even murder.

Plants with similarly mythologised toxic properties are Pennyroyal and Juniper-- Both of which can harm humans in various quantities.

(Interestingly, Pennyroyal is still sold in the UK as an insect repellent, and I even have some in my closet and drawers to repel moths-- But it is most famous as a risky historical abortifacient. I am usually asked for ID when I buy it in London Bridge Market, and they ask if you are familiar with it's use/inform you not to consume it when you buy it.

Juniper is most famous for being a common ingredient in sloe gin, but only in careful amounts. We've seen people in A&E come in with kidney pains from trying to make homemade gin, who ended up poisoning themselves by using the wrong type of juniper berry, or by concentrating it too much. Juniper was also considered a risky historical abortifacient.)

But in regards to Deadly Nightshade, a lot of people have hurt themselves trying to take advantage of its psychoactive properties-- Primarily in the form of the hyoscyamine and scopolamine (tropane alkaloids) found in the plant. However, the dosage is too finnicky, and it's way too easy for someone to poison themselves by accident. It's happened before. :( This plant is far too dangerous to use for these purposes. Do not consume!

But because of this connection with psychoactive properties, Deadly Nightshade is also sometimes symbolic of altered states of mind, having visions, or esoteric/magical thinking.

You can see this in a few fine arts works throughout history, various bits of folklore, and other historical media such as stage plays since audiences would be familiar with this plant as being a potential poison (thus making it a good choice for a playwright to work into a story).

Medical Applications!

The medication Atropine was first created via concentrated extracts derived from Deadly Nightshade. It has multiple medical applications, and can be concentrated from other members of the Nightshade family of plants, not just Belladonna.

Interestingly, although it can be poisonous on its own if someone decides to munch on the plant or its berries (a bad idea, do not eat any part of this plant ever), medically concentrated Atropine can be used in healthcare environments when administered appropriately to help address certain organophosphate poisonings by blocking muscarinic receptors by way of disrupting the neurotransmitter Acetylcholine.

Something that is sort of interesting is that historically, people used to put small amounts of liquid concentrated Deadly Nightshade into their eyes, as this resulted in very dilated pupils. This was considered a desirable cosmetic effect, hence the "Belladonna" part of the plant name-- It means "beautiful woman"! And Nightshade absolutely has large, round eyes with big pupils. (Do not put this shit in your eyes, it is a bad idea. Do not fuck with poisonous plants in general. Just need to be super clear on this!)

Again, that's an owlish trait, and it doesn't necessarily have to do with the plant. But I like that it could go either way.

I've also spotted Deadly Nightshade growing in overgrown cemeteries in the south of England, typically those that are near wooded/forested areas. So it's interesting that Nightshade got their alt-mode in a cemetery near a forest, since this plant is known to grow in woodlands.

But I wonder if Nightshade's name might have multiple implications; Especially considering their relationship with Tarantulas-- who we still haven't seen again, as of yet anyway-- it will be interesting to see how things play out.

Hopefully this is at least interesting trivia! :)

Also, Obvious PSA: Once again, don't eat any of the plants/flowers/berries mentioned here, you can die or suffer a surprisingly large amount of pain/potential organ damage. Either way, don't eat this stuff.

#nightshade #tfe nightshade #earthspark #maccadam #maccadams #long post #just thinkin'#tfe #medbay posting #transformers earthspark

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padfootagain · 11 months

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All Too Well

This idea comes from this ask sent by @reg-arcturus-black where she asked what kind of fic I would write with the title ‘All Too Well’, and well… here is the result, because I have no self-control and the concept is thus turning into a full fic!

Hope you like it! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort

Summary: Sirius is going through a rough day, as what he has lived with his parents come back to haunt him. Luckily, you’re here for him. You always are, despite knowing everything about him.

Word count: 2560

Sirius Black’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Sometimes it strikes him, the way he’s broken.

It’s a strange thing, really. Because Sirius usually manages, especially when he’s in Hogwarts, surrounded by his friends, miles away from his parents and their twisted minds. He usually manages his darkest thoughts, the tug at his heart that makes him ache out of the blue, the hateful thoughts against himself that were planted long ago in his mind.

Today, he doesn’t, though.

He’s not sure why. Maybe it’s because he’s been on his own almost all morning, the boys busy, you studying with Lily. Perhaps it’s because the weather is terrible, and he wishes he could turn into a dog and run across the Forbidden Forest to lose some energy. Maybe it’s because he bumped into his younger brother earlier this morning, and it simply struck him how much they have been drifting apart since he left Grimmauld Place; how Regulus looks like him, like their father…

He isn’t so sure, it’s probably a little bit of all these circumstances. No matter why, though, he can feel that he’s slipping down that familiar slope again. The one that fills his mind with pain and dark thoughts, his heart with something poisonous and hurtful, his blood with anger and longing. He recognises all the symptoms, he’s felt them a million times over.

And he knows what it means. He knows it all too well. The banging in his head. The voice that keeps on screaming there. The clammy hands. The rushing heart. The tight throat. The struggle for a breath. The knot in his stomach. And these thoughts... these thoughts that plague his mind, and he tries to shake them away but he can't he can't he can't; he knows it all too well, that the voices are true and that he's nothing, nothing, nothing at all...

He tries to close his eyes, to press his forehead against the cold windowpane, but it doesn’t stop the voices, doesn’t slow his heartbeat, doesn’t stop him from wanting to destroy everything and everyone around him just to make it stop for a mere second.

He’s taken refuge in his favourite hiding spot, a corridor on the fifth floor that leads to nowhere. There’s a window hidden behind the crooked statue of an old witch there. He likes that spot. No one ever comes down that corridor, and even if someone walked by, Sirius would be hidden by the statue. It’s perfect to be alone. That’s exactly what he needs for now.

He’s sitting by the window, temple pressed against the cool glass, and he drowns in the feeling of the cold against his warm skin. It almost hurts. He likes it. It anchors him.

There’s no sound in this empty corridor, except for the messy pattern of the falling rain. He can’t see anything by the window, there’s condensation all over the glass. All he can see are splashes of colour: the infinite grey of the sky that covers almost the entire frame, the deep green of the trees of the Forbidden Forest, the lighter green of the grass covering the grounds…

Maybe he should turn into Padfoot. It helps, sometimes. His thoughts are a little bit more messy, a little bit more cloudy when he’s a dog. His senses are heightened, but his mind gets blurry. And it helps when he hurts too much as a boy, because his thoughts are the reason behind his pain. If he can stop them, he can feel better again. At least, for a little while…

He closes his eyes, as images flash in his mind, scenes he wishes he could forget, but can’t. Reminiscence. A past still too close to be forgotten. He doubts he’ll ever manage to forget, anyway. There’s this feeling again, this feeling that he’s nothing, that he’s worthless, that he’ll always be but a ridiculous little boy afraid of the dark, that he’ll always break everything he touches.

And he knows where it comes from. He knows it all too well. From the shouts of his mother tearing up his nights. From the fists of his father against his cheeks. From the fear of his brother as he looks up at him in search for safety. From the curses, and the insults, and the hate the hate the hate that follows him everywhere that aims at his friends and that curses his very existence and that reminds him that he's unlovable, unlovable, unlovable...

And it hurts. It hurts because he fights this kind of thoughts with all his might, because he keeps on repeating to himself that these are just poisonous seeds planted by his parents, that none of it is real, that he’s different, that he can be different. That he can be loved, the way they could never love him. But there’s this voice that comes back every time. The one he knows all too well, that keeps on asking the same question over and over again…

What if they were right about you?

He jumps as he notices a movement next to the statue, but he relaxes quickly when he recognizes you. No threat. No ghost coming from his past. Only you.

You…

He’s not surprised that you’ve found him, but he would have preferred if you hadn’t come. He tries to show it by looking away without a smile, without a word. He wears his mask again, the cold one, the one that makes his handsome features look as cold and distant and unreal as a marble statue, as an unreachable sculpture, an inhuman one…

He stares at the colours outside, and he waits for you to say something. He’s expectant and afraid of it at the same time. You haven’t moved, you’re standing there, behind him, staring in silence. He’s not sure what he wants. Or rather… he knows. He knows all too well what he wants, but he’s not sure he should get it. Because he wants you to hold him, to kiss him, to tell him it will all be fine. But at the same time, he wants to shout at you just for being here, he wants to make you cry, he wants to push you away because that’s the kindest thing he could do for you, really… he’s broken. He’s broken, and you’re not, and you’ll end up like him one day, if you stay. That’s what darkness does: it spreads, like a virus, like something contagious, and once it holds onto someone, it never lets go again. And he won’t be the one to bring you such a cruel fate, because he… he loves you. He loves you too much for that.

One day, he’ll end up hurting you too much, and you’ll run, and he’ll shatter your heart. That’s all he’s been good at doing, anyway. A family trait. A Black legacy. Break everything you touch…

He wonders why you’re still here altogether, really. Because you’re so much better than him. You… You’re everything that could save him. Sometimes it feels too much to take in. Most days, it feels like surrendering. But it can’t last. It won’t, he knows it, somehow. You’re too good for him.

And he knows he doesn't deserve you. He knows it all too well. Because you're so bright against his darkness. Because you're too kind. Because he's a mess. Because you're patient. Because he's reckless. Because you love him, for some unknown reason. Because you look at him with so much love, he hopes you can see that he loves you just the same. And you come back again and again and again, and he doesn't have a clue why you're still clinging onto him when he's got nothing to offer you but his shattered heart, his crooked smile, his fucked-up mind, his fucked-up mind, his fucked-up mind...

He wants to cry at the thought, but he hides it well, he’s used to it. Where he comes from, you can’t be weak. He’s used to it… but not near you, that’s the tough part. You have a talent to break him into pieces, tear him apart, open him up raw and bloody and cradle his soul in your hands until he feels like he really had one in the first place. You have a talent to get under his skin, and to see right through this pretty, unreachable mask he’s wearing now. He has others of the same kind: there’s the flirtatious one, the stupid one, the cruel one, the uncaring one, the scary one. All masks. Inside, he’s the same broken boy every time. Sometimes, when he hears you laughing, when he listens to James’s plans, when he looks at Remus studying, when he shares his candies with Peter, he becomes more like the person he could have been had he not been so shattered during his childhood: reckless, impulsive, laughing loudly and as brightly as the sun he wears the name of, just a boy of seventeen, joyous and at peace. He can’t be that today, it hurts just thinking about it. Today, all he can be is broken. It’s okay, he’s used to it.

You haven’t moved despite the minutes ticking by. Sirius either. It’s like… you’re caught in a game of statues. Who knows how long it’ll last. He knows you’ll break first, though. And he doubts you, for a moment. He sees you leaving. He sees you turning away without a word, walking by this twisted statue again, hurry down the corridor, head back to your dorm, run away from him. You should. You should, he isn’t worth it. It kills him to admit it, but he knows it all the same, all too well. And for a moment, he can see you giving up on him, he can picture it in his mind… even you can stop loving him. He’s unlovable enough for that.

And he’s right. You give up first, and move again before he does. He’s still a statue when you take a step closer, tilt your head to the side. You’re studying him, he can feel it in the intensity of your gaze without even looking up at you. He keeps on avoiding your eyes, actually. He still hopes you’ll leave; he still wants you to stay.

You’re still silent, perhaps because you know that there are no words you can speak that will make him feel better. That is not what he needs now. Words can wait. Right now, he’s just afraid to be alone, that’s why he feels so lonely, that’s why he isolates himself so much. It’s safer that way. People won’t leave you, if you leave them first…

You know what he needs, you love him enough for that. Without a sound, you sit down on the dusty ground by his side. You match his posture, like a mirror. You rest your temple against the window, only, you’re not looking outside, you’re looking at him instead.

And he hates it. He hates it because even if you show him over and over again that you’ll stay, he’s still afraid you’ll leave. And the voice in his head screams to push you away but he doesn’t want to. He’s not a Black. He doesn’t want to be one. He wants to be Sirius. He wants to be Padfoot. He wants to belong here, with the Marauders, with you… He wants to be the man you call baby, the one you hold onto at night to fall asleep, the one who carries your books and ties your shoes for you in the corridors making you roll your eyes even if you love it. He wants to be the one who kisses you in the morning, the one who touches every inch of your skin, the one who gets to taste your kisses on his tongue. He wants to be the one to protect you, to comfort you, to make you feel safe, the one… the one who is going to love you, no matter what. That’s who he wants to be. That’s who he’ll be, if you let him. After the crisis passes, he can be that boy again. He craves for it, even if, perhaps, he shouldn’t aim that high. A fool’s hope; but such a bright, happy one…

At long last, he turns to you. He keeps a stern face at first, merely stares at you. And he doesn’t even notice the way he stares, but how could he not? Because you’re looking at him with the most tender smile, and with such fondness in your eyes. You look at him with so much love, he chokes on it. He can’t take so much of it, not when he’s like this, at his worst, in his darkest form. Still, you smile, an almost dreamy one, and you stare at him as if he were made of light instead of shadows, as if he truly shone as brightly as the star he wears the name of. And it hurts, in the best way, to see so much hope and faith in him, so much love in someone else’s gaze while looking at him…

He doesn’t even realize it when a tear rolls down his cheek. He doesn’t care. It’s just you. He can feel, and show it, and be weak. Because you’ve come, the way you always come. Because you haven’t left, the way you never leave. And he wonders why he still doubts you’ll stay, because you’ve proven over and over again that you will. Always, it would seem…

And this time, he knows you'll stay. He knows it all too well. Because you haven't moved at all, and he's used it, and you never do. Whenever the crisis come, you merely stay here, with him, and you wait until the storms weather, and he comes back to you. You're his constant through it all. And you're here you're here you're here, everywhere he looks, he always finds you near, and for the first time he's not so afraid that you might leave. Maybe you're right. Maybe he does deserve to be loved, loved, loved.

Maybe you could show him how. Perhaps he’ll doubt you again, the next time the crisis comes. Perhaps you’ll show him once more. He reckons that you’re patient enough for that.

The mask crumbles, slowly, a steady bearing of a soul that starts with a tear and ends with the ghost of a smile. When he reaches for your hand, he looks like Sirius again. Your Sirius. The one he always is, the one always in him, even when he can’t see it too.

He doesn’t need to say the words, the tender squeeze of your hand speaks every word of it. You know it already, anyway.

Thank you. I love you. Stay… stay forever.

You will. You’ll stay, as long as he lets you near. You love him enough for that. For staring at his cracks and scars and see the light in them through the chasms. One day, you hope he can see it too. And it’s funny because… you’re thankful too. You’re thankful that he lets you in, that he lets you reach him, even if he struggles, even if it takes a little bit of time. Still, you love him. One day, he’ll learn to love himself too. You’ll make sure of that.

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Taglist : @reg-arcturus-black @hells-escapees @omgrachwrites

@wolfmoonmusic

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aswallowimprisoned · 22 days

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Restless far from a Wine Dark sea - Emergency Surgery - fuckin oops part 2

This is a 2 parter, see previous here or in masterlist. Got way longer than expected, and still not as much surgery detail as I would like.

snippet for @medwhumpmay

Tw Surgery, big one for drugs, accidental injury, restraints, threat, drugs/medication, medical talk, broken bone, punctured lung, drowning in youe own blood except not cos your a merman

masterlist

≪ °❈° ≫

His captors had re-broken his ribs, taken a photograph of his fucked-up chest with a weird camera thing, and they hadn’t thus far even given him any opium to take the edge off, leaving Nathaniel to take things into his own hands.

Nathaniel was, all in all, having a pretty shitty day.

They were taking him to yet another room. This one was brightly lit with fluorescent strips that hurt his eyes. He thought he would be excited to leave the room that they had kept him in since they had kept him in since his capture, but the whole place was disorienting and scary, and Nathaniel only really wanted to be put unconscious and allowed to sleep through the whole ordeal.

“Ok, I am going to give you a little bit of a wash with this special soap. I will be very gentle.” His favourite nurse informed him. The water tingled where it touched his skin. Whatever the strange clear gel on him earlier was, it was still numbing his skin, but not enough to erase the sharp pain that echoed with every breath.

It felt weird his skin was numb on the surface but hurt so much below. Nathaniel tried to distract himself from the fear boiling in the back of his head by watching the nurse. The nurse had got out a small pot with a sponge on a stick and started painting Nathaniel with a thin browny-yellow paste.

- disgusted - Nathaniel chose the emotion sign closest to what he wanted to say.

“It’s disgusting? It does look a weird colour doesn’t it? It is very clean though, I promise.” Elias was sitting next to his head.

Nathaniel shifted his weight, and his body flared in protest.

-Hurt. 7.- He told Elias, -Bite?-

“We will give you some morphine very soon. You can’t bite yourself again.” Elias apologised. “You have been very patient and I am very impressed you have stayed still even though there is a lot going on and I know you are in pain. Can I ask, does the venom feel nice? Does it make you calm?

-Yes. Calm. Happy. - He sighed, and glanced around to make sure Logan wasn’t watching, “Logan didn’t mean to hurt me.” He whispered. -Logan. Sorry.-

“He didn’t mean to hurt you, no. You aren’t meant to be hurt or tortured here.” Elias confirmed.

“We are going to try him on a small dose of fentanyl, see how he reacts…” the anaesthetist walked in, “I can monitor his vitals, so we should know if anything starts going wrong, but you two should monitor behaviour.”

The anaesthetist hoisted a tiny bottle up, and drew some liquid into a syringe. Ooh that looked good…

“Heroin?” He asked hopefully.

“Pretty much, Fogal.” Elias sighed.

“Yay.” He said quietly. He felt the drugs hit his blood in a wave of soothing cool. The sound of water rushed into his ears for a beautiful moment, and his mind spun into soft clouds. He hacked up a cough, blood into the oxygen mask, but his worries didn’t seem so pressing anymore.

“Hey Fogal, can you tell me what 2+13 is?”

Nathaniel stared at him for a long moment. 2+10+3.

“Fifteen.” he said eventually.

“Good job.” Elias praised, “He’s gone from a 6b to a 8bc on the Pilish scale.”

Nathaniel didn’t understand that last bit, so he just ignored it.

Logan reentered the room then, carrying a bundle of clothing wrapped in plastic.

“The nurse and I are going to get you ready for surgery now, Fogal. We need to put these clothes on you.”

“I got painted.” Nathaniel told him. It was easier to speak out loud with a bit of opium. “I like paint.”

“That’s good Fogal, that means you are half ready. Elias is going to have to leave for a moment now to put on some special clean clothes, ok? I will sit with you until he comes back.”

Logan passed the bundle to the nurse, and they started draping blue sheets over his body. He could barely feel the fabric on his skin.

“That was a lot of opium.” He informed Logan.

“It was - are you still in pain?”

“4.” Nathaniel said, “I know it’s bad but I don’t care.”

“That’s ok, we will look after you, ok Fogal?”

The knowledge that people were not his friends tugged at the corner of his mind, a bottomless well of fear. It lapped at the edge of his soul. He coughed a wad of blood into his mask again.

“Fogal, can you tell me what 5+8 is?”

“No…” Nathaniel replied.

“That’s ok… how about 3 types of fruit?”

“Why?”

“Do you remember when Elias talked to you about grounding methods? This is just a grounding method.”

He probably realised Nathaniel was freaking out.

“Raspberries. Blueberries. Porzeczka.” It was getting very hard to breathe, but Nathaniel tried to drown it out with thoughts of fruit and opium, “Poppies. Apple. Pear…” His breathing was wet.

“I think his gills are about to split again…” Logan didn’t sound alarmed, but put a hand on Nathaniel’s head comfortingly.

The skin of his chest ruptured into gills, preventing him from drowning in his own blood. It hurt like the dull thud of a heavy impact. Crimson splattered onto the blue drapes.

He caught his breath for a few moments.

“Mess.” He stated.

“It’s fine Fogal, mess is fine. We are nearly ready anyway. Nurse is going to put this little hat on you, then we are going to give you a bit more opiate.”

The nurse slid a plastic bag over his hair, and it cracked unpleasantly.

“More opium?” He questioned.

“Yes. It is going to make you very sleepy, and it's ok if you do go to sleep. It is called twilight sedation because everything will be very fuzzy and relaxed, but you aren’t quite asleep. You will be able to feel things still, which might feel strange, but it won’t hurt. The doctor is going to make a small cut in your chest to fix your lung and broken ribs. Do you understand? You will be able to feel the touch, but there won’t be any pain.”

There were going to be hands and metal inside him?

“Banana and orange and blueberries…” Nathnaniel answered instead.

The door hissed open, and a gaggle of people entered. Elias was among them, wearing billowy blue clothes, and made a beeline for Nathaniel. Logan gave up his seat for the other man.

“Hey Fogal.” He spoke gently.

“Your hat is stupid.” Nathaniel told him.

“It is.” Elias agreed, “We are ready to get you fixed up now. Logan is going to leave, but I will stay with you the whole time. We will give you more drugs. Things are about to get real hazy…”

“We are ready. We’ll put this final drape over your head, then we will start…” Dr Rana moved towards him, and Nathaniel’s world was enveloped in blue. He turned his head, and Elias gave him a little wave through the gap in the sheet.

“Twighlighting mer #3, also known as Fogal at 13:58 with an additional 50cc Fentanyl…”

Everything hazed out into a soup of drugs. There were lights and colours, voices saying his name.

“Hello.” He replied. “Blue cave.”

There were points of pressure inside him, cold metal. It was disturbing.

Cherries, strawberry, pineapple punch with coconut… Don’t think about the scraping against his ribs, the hollow thunk reverberating into his chest cavity.

He wished he was unconscious.

Opium was coating his brain with soft sludge. Thoughts weren’t working. His breaths wooshed through a mask, shallow but even.

“Sleepy.” He slurred out.

“That’s ok Fogal, you can go to sleep if you want?” Elias suggested.

It was weird feeling something inside him. He couldn’t hear what the doctors were saying beyond the blue cave.

“Blue cave.” He told Elias.

“Blue cave.” Elias agreed, “Is it nice?”

“Sleepy.”

“That’s ok, you can go to sleep if you are sleepy. We will look after you.”

This time, Nathaniel did.

a/n This is a really long piece for me to write in a day, even if it is not fully polished. I am really proud of myself for almost keeping up with the prompts for this challenge. Please reblog if you enjoyed!

#whump #medical whump #mer whump #restlessffawds #medwhump may #whump writing #drugging #tw drugs #tw surgery

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elv-arts · 7 months

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Silly little thing I made the other week when I was stuck in hospital while I was feeling up to making things. It's litterally just me complaining cuz I was feeling pretty fed up lol. I have been almost entirely in hospital for over a month now with a only few days off. Back home after round 2 of chemo though and hoping not to have a repeat of The Infection I made this about! lol

[ID: A series of images of a small handmade zine held together with washi tape.

Image 1 - The cover, titled "THE HOSPITAL" in big blue all caps. There's some bright pink lines shooting out for emphasis, and little doodles of plasters, pills and a syringe coloured in bright orange.

Image 2 - Page 1 and 2. "I have been in hospital for 5 1/2 days and it has thoroughly SUCKED. I only just got out from 2 1/2 weeks unplanned hospital time and was supposed to have to weeks mostly at home but nope!" In big yellow all caps is written "2 DAYS" with spikey emphasis lines. "I have been in a wonderful variety of pains, experienced many lovely symptoms, and have been bombarded with people and occurences." Written with hearts and pink flowers around it is "Thank You Neutropenia!" Followed by a doodle of a simple person giving a big thumbs up from a hospital bed with a smile and bags under their eyes.

Image 3 - Page 3 and 4. "I'm doing chemo for lymphoma, and the plan was to cut and dye my hair with my siblings like this" an arrow points to a drawing of a bright green mullet haircut with bright pink buzzed sides. There's a bright yellow zigzag shape around it. "Or this" another arrow points to a drawing of a longer bright green mullet with dark green roots. There's a bright yellow zigzag shape behind it. "asap BEFORE my hair started falling out, then when it did I'd buzz it, look like-"

Image 4 - Page 5 and 6. "-a mouldy potato for a bit, then be bald until it grows back after treatment." There's a doodle of a potato with green mould and a little smiley face, and one of a shiney orange egg with wide eyes. Then in big purple caps is written "BUT INFECTION STRUCK" "after my first pass at a haircut. I went to bed, ready to finish it the next day, then BAM! Hospitaled." The word bam has a green spikey shape around it and there's a doodle of an ambulance. "Didn't even get to wash it, so it's been GREASY until today. And now it's falling out." There's another doodle of a hand holding a clump of hair.

Image 5 - Page 7 and 8. "But that brings me to today. The other day, they switched me to a new antibiotic, and last night and today I've been feeling almost normal apart from some little side effects. I'm doing really well compared to how I was. They're saying I might get home tomorrow and I" in big yelloW all caps taking up the next page "REALLY FUCKING HOPE SO!" With lots of green zigzags.

Image 6 - Page 9 and 10. A doodle of a simple figure backed by shadow, with wide, blank, shadowed eyes hunched over the word "UPDATE" written in big purple caps with a shadow underneath. "I did escape. For long enough to have my dinner, then STRAIGHT back into hospital with a high temp. Not neutropenic this time though. Been in about a day 1/2. Hoping to go home later today." a pink squiggle between the pages, then yellow caps saying "UPDATE 2" "I AM HOME!! I have lit candles. I am chilling. I got mcdonalds on the way home :) There's stuff I need to do, but that's for later. Just gonna enjoy the peace while it lasts. AND THUS ENDS THE HOSPITAL ZINE!" There's a little doodle of a couple of green candles and one of a burger and fries.

Image 7 - The back cover. There's a little orange plaster doodle in the corner, and at the bottom it says "Made in Hospital* *mostly" End ID]

#original art #elv talks #long post #cancer tw #hospital tw #sorry if the id kinda sucks #my brain's a little mushy and words are not entirely my friend rn #i hope it's still understandable if you need it #idk why I've been getting such an urge to make things while in hospital lol #it's not a masterpiece but it's fun that i made something i can hold i think that's neat

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dmmdconfessions · 1 year

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[Image text: I’ll be honest here, I was so hyperfixated on the idea of an Aoba/Madoka crossover (Madoka Kaname from Puella Magi Madoka Magica), being both like siblings.]

[Full text: I’ll be honest here, I was so hyperfixated on the idea of an Aoba/Madoka Kaname (from Puella Magi Madoka Magica) crossover being both like siblings (like the entire whole older brother shtick where he has like a clumsy, insecure younger sister who’s secretly a girlboss deep down, who literally turned into a god in the Rebellion film).

Plus, their colour palettes/designs, schemes and all are adjacent to the Gumball/Anais (from The Amazing World of Gumball) colour palette scheme, meaning they would resemble them a bit. Their interactions would be really sweet together as I know Aoba would have this small, pink-haired fluffball of hope consistently follow him everywhere Aoba goes, and would try to get him to as he goes to Junk Shop Heibon to complete his daily working shift while Madoka just goes to school like an ordinary schoolgirl just the way she is.

Aoba sometimes comes home and buys Madoka a lesbian flag she can hang up on her wall, and makes dinner for her a lot. She introduces her girlfriend Homura to Aoba and he’s like “aww, that’s sweet.” I feel like he’d grow accustomed and fond to her, and I feel like he’d grow an ever-loving desire to protect her from falling into despair so much so that she turns into a witch.

One of the funniest things I can imagine Aoba doing is having one of his alters (Sly Blue for example), fronting and then she gets a call from him and he takes her on a little ride while Madoka brings Homura, her beloved, with her to the retail park that is extremely far away from both of their locations. He then lets them play on one of those Beatmania arcades, and he goes to the cigarette bar to get a quick smoke and to accompany his younger sister and his girlfriend, and they both win so much on the Pop'n Music arcades while they start to finish off and get ready for the bowling venues.

Sly sits on one of these chairs and watches his younger sister Madoka and her girlfriend go off at these bowls, and claps and cheers when Madoka manages to succeed at taking one of these bowling pins all in one go. And after that, Sly fronts back to Aoba, the main host of the system, and then he calls back for them to come back so they can go in there to explore the garden, town pebble streets and more amusement parks for their own excitement, so they can have pretty picture taking time.

I can imagine Aoba loving Madoka like he’s his own daughter and doing Madoka’s hairstyles every morning like crazy while on the phone trying to listen some deals that Haga-san made to him, putting small ribbon hair clips in Madoka’s hair, and making her breakfast and making sure she’s at least well fed and happy.

I want her to be happy after the shit she has gone through. My precious baby daughter. My daughter, she didn’t deserve all of this, she deserves to be all happy and to be all pain and trauma free. It’s not a matter of comparing “yaoi vs yuri” of which series is pure or fucked up or whatever. I’m not simply here to compare them. I’m here to illustrate my point cohesively that Madoka would view this mentally ill skinny 23 year old gay boy who has had a never had a good day ever in his life, and she would go “I’m going to view that man as my older brother. He seems nice.” and tries to hang around with him to try to get more information from this gay boy who has a shit ton of unresolved BPD that would end up with him being sent to a mental asylum. It’s about the potential, it’s about the silly sibling shenanigans of Madoka trying to wake her older brother up so he can take her to school. It’s him seeing that she is going down a dark path full of magical girls. Whatever. I am so mentally ill about them. Madoka Magica changed my brain fundamentally and mentally and I needed to thus propose this like crossover even further because I want to say it out loud.]

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elisethetraveller · 10 days

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Continued from; divingdownthehole

In hindsight, it had been a bad idea to wander into Gotham’s entertainment district after dark. Even the locals could only navigate the twists and turns of the city’s bowels so far, and for so long, without inevitably getting caught or lost in the chaos. The neon signs and pulsating music drew him in, and the bar had been lively; a cacophony of laughter and clinking glasses, the scent of cheap beer mingling with cigarette smoke. He'd chosen a stool in a quiet corner and ordered a sangria, attempting to distract himself from the neuroscience paper that had consumed his thoughts for weeks. The frustration had gnawed at him, the complex jargon and convoluted theories tying his mind into knots. He'd needed a break, a moment of respite and a change of scenery to clear his head. Jervis tried to focus on the chilled glass against his fingers, the tang of orange on his tongue. For a moment, it almost worked. But Gotham had other plans. The fight had erupted suddenly, a drunken argument escalating into a full-blown brawl. Jervis had tried to stay out of it, hugging the edge of the chaos. He’d ducked and weaved through the thrashing bodies, a silent prayer on his lips as fists flew and chairs splintered, his slim frame making it easy to slip between the combatants, but not easy enough… A stray elbow caught his ribs, a hand shoved him sideways, and the crack of a bottle against the back of his head had sent him stumbling into a table. He didn’t remember falling, only the sensation of cold, sticky beer soaking into his shirt as he hit the floor. Adrenaline flared, and he shot to his feet, using the bar for support as he navigated through the melee, instinct driving him to find an exit. Why had he thought this would be a good idea? Aggravation with his studies had driven him to seek a distraction, but Gotham was a far cry from the tranquil libraries and quiet parks he was used to. The city was a beast of its own, filled with shadows that hid both the mundane and the monstrous. That’s when he saw her—an ethereal figure with pale hair and a concerned expression, the streetlight creating a halo effect that made her seem almost luminous. The cool breeze was a stark contrast to the stuffy bar, and he took a moment to steady himself, leaning against the rough brick of the building. Jervis gingerly touched the back of his head, wincing as his fingers brushed against the tender, swelling lump. Blood trickled down the back of his neck, sticky and warm. He had nearly forgotten the pain in the rush to escape, and he met the woman’s eyes warily. “I… I think I’m alright,” he replied, though his breath trembled slightly. "I've had better nights… Just a bit of a misunderstanding, I suppose.”

Sleep evaded her in its usual manner; thus, the pale woman had taken to the streets.

Still new to Gotham, she had arrived among the masses of aide workers coming to help stabilize the city and keep it from tearing itself apart in the aftermath of the flooding. Grouped with other young responders, Elise had been thankful that she was familiar with disaster sites, as upon arrival, many from her group had succumbed to the natural despair which insurmountable tasks provoked. Still, they had gone to work, filling in the gaps of the city's collapsing infrastructure. And somewhere between all those gaps, the mage had allowed herself to slip through.

Her employment record and the fabricated papers she had used to gain access were destroyed, and new housing was acquired. It wasn't out of malicious intent nor a dislike for her coworkers, though some were decidedly immature for her taste. Rather, she knew her strengths and weaknesses; more importantly, experience dictated that she worked her magic most efficiently from the shadows. Luckily, Gotham, ripe with chaos, had no lack of those.

Streetlights painted the street in an off-coloured light reminiscent of a sickly moon as she wandered, preferring the alleys and backstreets any sensible person avoided. The music of clubs and bars, brief respites in the darkness, hung heavy in the ears, and despite her distance, the hard bass occasionally sent vibrations through her chest. There were people on these streets, too, though far fewer than the main thoroughfares, and as her silver eyes sought them out in the darkness, Elise sensed the quiet understanding that anyone walking here as carelessly as she did had reason to believe they would be safe. She was thankful that the same courtesy was extended to her person, not because a fight worried her, but rather because she didn't want it.

Deep in thought, specifically keeping track of her own movements lest she lost her way, Elise just managed to halt in her steps as one of the many backdoors into the ally swung open a few centimetres from her face. Out rushed a shorter man, somewhere in the middle of his life if she had to guess, and as he stopped to support himself against a wall, the droplets of dark red in the dirt caught her eye. Briefly glancing through the open door and pushing it shut upon seeing the brawl, she was quick to approach with a glare in the direction of the other ally occupants just in case one of them thought it wise to try and robe the injured man.

"I would hope so. Seemed like quite the brawl in there." Face soft and a friendly smile in place, her head tilted this and that way, a stray bit of hair falling in front of her face. "And looks like you took a bit of a blow." He smelled of alcohol, but she couldn't tell if he was drunk or if he had been hit over the head with a bottle. "If you want, I can take a look? Head wounds bleed quite profusely, even if they are shallow."

( @divingdownthehole )

#ic #divingdownthehole #blood #injury mentioned #head trauma #alcohol mention #//Hope this is okay!

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firebloodanddragons · 2 years

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OF DRAGONS AND LAMBS - CHAPTER 3 (AEMOND TARGARYEN X READER)

Chapter Summary: Aemond has a duty to his family. You have a duty to your husband. And you both shall obey despite your clear reluctance or the nascent attraction you might feel for each other. But the fire of passion is quick to grow and not easy to extinguish.

Tags for this chapter: Slow Burn / Sexual Tension/ Protective! Aemond/ Orgy / Prostitution/ Violence / /!\ S*xual Assault / Explicit Language

Author’s notes: This chapter contains explicit sexual content. Please read the tags carefully before reading this chapter! Thank you.

[CHAPTER 1] [CHAPTER 2]

CHAPTER 3: A STREET OF SILK, RATS AND DRAGONS

Prince Aemond was never fond of festivities. Even before having his eye taken by his nephew and thus before becoming the main subject of gossips in court for a while, he used to find them not only boring but pointless, preferring the comfort of his chambers or even the quietness of the library where he could find peace and tranquillity. The prince was a lonely soul, always had been. And if he used to think that loneliness miserable and unfair as a child, now he thrived in it. The second son saddened to be rejected and ignored by his father and the young uncle pained to be spurned by his nephews was no more, buried in the embers of his fiery hatred, or so he liked to believe. But Aemond knew his duty and his responsibilities, all the values bound to royalty. They had been taught to him even before he knew what it meant to be a prince of Westeros or the second in line to the throne -his mother Alicent had made sure of it- and he had embraced them without thinking twice even if they meant making sacrifices. Behave like a prince. Obey your king. Respect and protect your family. Honour your wife. Have faith in the Seven. Keep your Valyrian blood pure. Keep your Valyrian blood pure. Aemond snickered as he stared at the deep red colour of the wine in his cup. That rule was of no importance now, wasn’t it? Since tomorrow he would fly to Storm’s End and choose one of Borros Baratheon’s daughters to be his wife. A demand from his grandfather the Hand that displeased him possibly as much as the feast he was attending. The Baratheons were no Valyrian. They didn’t look Valyrian, not even a little bit. They were tall, of course, but often massive and disproportioned. Their hair was always thick and black and in harmony (if we could call this harmony) with their dull dark eyes and their grotesque and rough features. They had nothing Aemond deemed beautiful or to his taste. And he was not thrilled to conceive heirs that would look like mules or worse like his aunt Rhaenys. A dragon and a stag do not suit each other. If anything, the dragon eats the stag. “I don’t know about you, brother. But I fancy lamb tonight.” Aegon whispered to Aemond’s ear as he stood up to reach a jug of wine and fill his empty cup. Aemond was no fool and he knew his big brother. When he said he wished to eat lamb, he didn’t mean actual lamb. He meant the ravishing young lady dressed in pale green and sitting quietly next to her husband. He meant you. “Although I don’t mind a lion as well. Oh, and an apple to stay healthy.” And a Lannister and a Fossoway then. “Do you wish to join us? We’re meeting in the street of silk, away from prying eyes. I haven't been there in ages but I believe it is the perfect place to celebrate and get it wet as you might agree.” Aegon laughed as he grasped tightly his young brother’s shoulder. But Aemond remained as stoic as ever. "Besides, I'm king now. I can't be seen in Flea Bottom anymore... Did you know there's a tunnel in the Red Keep that leads straight to Chataya's brothel?" “No, I didn't and no, I do not wish to join you. I'd rather leave you to your depravity, brother.” “Oh please, Aemond. Don’t be such a prude twat. I invited the Stokeworth girl just for you.” “For me? What do you mean?” “Oh please, I've heard about your time alone with her in your chambers.” He winked salaciously. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to put your sword in her tight warm sheathe once more.” “Not that it is your concern, brother, but I did not sheathe any sword.” Aegon’s eyes widened and he sat on the table to stare at his brother incredulously. He wanted to know more. “Really. How come? She’s a beautiful creature. I would have not hesitated.” “The creature is married. I do not think Lord Rosby would agree that a man defile his wife.” “Oh, but he did.” Aegon laughed in his cup and Aemond frowned at him, unsure to understand. “She’s my coronation gift, a sign of good faith from House Rosby.” Lord Rosby was not always honourable but he was proud. Surely, he would not have offered his wife willingly or without blackmail. Aegon must have threatened him or promised him something he could not refuse in exchange. Aemond was sure of it. “So, no need to worry, brother. No one is defiling anything. It is freely given.” “She.” Aemond corrected between his teeth. “What?” “What about Helaena?” The second son asked as a masked attempt at making his brother reconsider his lustful plans. “Do you want Helaena to join us?” Aegon was shocked but he didn’t seem to have any objection. “My king, it is time for your dance.” Otto Hightower said as he grabbed Aegon by the shoulder like a child he was tired of and snatched his cup. “But I don’t like to dance!” “Aegon.” Aemond whispered contemptuously

***

It was very late. The full and silvery moon was high in the sky and the cackling of poultry wandering the streets had long stopped, replaced by the squeaks of rats and thundering voices of the drunkards celebrating the coronation of the new king in the streets . You were not accustomed to this kind of foul place. Stokeworth was not a seat that was famous for its debauchery and your father had always made sure that you never go beyond the castle walls. Dirty streets reeking of ale, piss and shit. Alehouse and brothels. All these were new to you. And yet, despite the stench and the obvious danger that animated the Street of Silk, you smiled, finding a certain joy and amusement in seeing free-spirits enjoying life as if there would be no tomorrow. “We’re here.” The guard who had escorted you from the Red Keep said as he stopped in front of a large wooden gate. You looked at the establishment. It was two stories tall with a stone ground floor and a timber upper floor. There was no window, at least none with a view on the street, certainly to preserve privacy, and over the door swung an ornate lamp of gilded metal and scarlet glass, common to all the whorehouses of Rhaenys’ Hill you had seen on your way here. The guard knocked on the door and the leaded peep window opened to reveal a pair of wary and piercing blue eyes that immediately frowned at your escort and then at you with an intensity that made you look down. “A golden dragon loves silk.” The guard said and the door opened. Wrapped in your cloak, your face hidden under the hood, you stepped into the brothel with caution and the door closed immediately behind you. You jumped a bit and turned around only to see that the man who accompanied you was gone. The knot in your stomach that hadn’t stopped growing since your husband had announced you that King Aegon had requested you here in Chataya’s brothel tightened even more and you put your hands over your belly to soothe the pain. The blue-eyed woman noticed and smiled kindly. “Perhaps the lady would like something to calm her down.” There was pity in her voice. It was meant to comfort you, you were sure. But it had the opposite effect. That woman run this establishment. She knew what was expecting you in one of these rooms. So the pity in her voice only confirmed what you already knew; you would not enjoy your night here. “The golden dragon is upstairs, waiting in the Turret Room. Follow me.”

She led you to a round turret (hence the name of the room) that rose from the corner of the main hall and you followed her up the stairs. There was an odour of spice in the air and it was growing stronger with every step you took. It wasn’t so unpleasant but it tickled your nose. “It’s to cover the smell of sweat.” The Madam said. It was amazing how easily she could read people’s body but it was certainly part of her job. Once upstairs, you reached a long corridor that led to a lone gilded door that didn’t look like any others and for a moment you stopped. You could hear the lewd moans and the growls coming from the room behind that door, sounds of pleasure that disgusted you. You wanted to go back. You wanted to ask your husband to reconsider, to find another arrangement with the King. But you hadn’t succeeded in reasoning with him before so why would you succeed now? Surely, he would send you back here himself and make your night here even worse. “I know I am not supposed to say this to a lady but…” The Madam looked for your eyes under your hood. “It is clear from your reluctance that you won’t enjoy this. So, the best you can do, for your own sake, is to make it quick.” You met the blue-eyed woman’s compassionate look with stoicism, refusing to let her see your apprehension. “Let the King do his thing. From what I remember, he is not one who lingers.” She drew a long white tissue from behind her leather belt and offered it to you. “You’re a strong woman I can tell, but you might need this. If not for your tears then for something else.” You accepted it with a thankful nod and she opened the golden door.

A pale but thick smoke was floating in the room. Jasmin and lilies were burning in a large bowl, their perfume sweet but strong enough to cover the odour of the sweaty naked bodies intertwined on the large canopied bed or on the carpeted floor. There were seven of them; four women (two of them were whores) and three men. Among them, you recognised Queen Helaena’s ladies in waiting, Lady Jane Lannister and Lady Genevieve Fossoway whom you had met earlier. The former was lying on the mattress, nude like everyone else in this room, showing her red fleshy arse that bore visible handprints to a man who was wanking his manhood behind her while she had King Aegon’s shaft in her mouth. He clearly enjoyed her affection as it seemed he had forgotten the presence of Lady Jane who was kneeling by his side, her small breasts aching to be touched. “Your grace, your last guest arrived.” The Madam announced before leaving you but Aegon didn’t listen, his mind focused on the pleasure Lady Genevieve was giving him. Only the third man sitting on an armchair drinking wine with two whores on his laps did. He was blond and he had big blue eyes that resembled Lady Jane’s and for a moment you wonder if the man wasn’t Jason Lannister, her cousin. “I thought his grace had invited his brother the prince.” The man said as he got up to approach you, curious to see your body hidden under your cloak. You looked back at him, trying to ignore his erected sex pointing towards you. “That is definitely not Prince Aemond.” “A shame. I’ve always wanted to taste a prince’s cock.” One of the whores giggled. “Come here I’ll let you taste a king’s cock. It’s even better.” Aegon declared, probably tired of Lady Genevieve’s devotion that he rejected when, with a single hand, he pushed her away from him and let her mouth be taken by the lord behind her who decided it was his turn to use it. The young king staggered to the whore and with a clumsy hand he grabbed the jug of wine she kept in between her thighs to fill the first cup he found. Without saying a word, the girl took Aegon’s cock in her hand and brought it to her mouth to suck it greedily. “Aemond has always been an honourable cunt. He is not betrothed yet but he has already sworn faithfulness to his bronze hind.” Aegon said between two mouthfuls of the red alcohol and you frowned at the news of Prince Aemond’s betrothal. “I thought bringing the Stokeworth girl here would amuse him and help him loosen up a little but he seems to like the stick in his arse.” “Stokeworth, huh? As in the wife of that good old Lord Lorys Rosby? You know your husband praised you a lot, my lady. Let’s see what you’re hiding under all these clothes.” The Lannister man said as he tried to reach out for the lace of your cloak. But you slapped his hand away. Puzzled, he stared at you, refusing to believe you had dared reject him and hit him but before he could say anything, you spoke. “My husband sent me here to please the king. Therefore, I shall do what my king wishes, not you.” The blond man turned to Aegon but he ignored him, too busy to shove his manhood in the warm humid throat of the whore kneeling at his feet, his hands in the soft black locks of her hair. “This is absurd.”

***

Until yesterday, Aemond never thought he would see those blue eyes again. The eyes of the woman Aegon had paid to take his virginity. And yet here they were again, staring at him with a hint of pride and amazement for the second time in two days. She had grown older and fatter since the day she had dropped her silk dress in front of him but the kindness and comfort she had given Aemond on that day still shone in her ocean eyes. “I didn’t expect you, young prince.” She smiled as she eyed at him from head to toes. How he had grown and what a fine handsome man he had become. “When the King said you might be joining him, I had a few doubts.” “I am not here to join my brother. I heard he might have invited a young lady to his … obscene celebration. I am here for her. She shouldn’t be here.” “The king has invited a few ladies upstairs, your grace. You might want to describe the one you are looking for with more details.” She told him although she had an idea of the young woman he was looking for. “She’s the kind of woman who doesn’t fit here. She looks small and innocent like a lamb but …” “In her eyes burns a fire who could seduce a dragon.” She interrupted him and smirked lightly. “You still enjoy the same girls you liked when you were thirteen, I see.” Embarrassed, Aemond looked down and for a moment he remembered his thirteenth nameday. How Aegon had put a cloak on his shoulder and brought him here. The sweat on his nervous hands when his brother had explained the purpose of this place. “Time to get it wet, little brother.” How he had mumbled a faint “you” when the Madam had asked him which of her “daughters” he wished to lie with. How soft and gentle her touch had been on his nervous hand as she had led him to one of the rooms upstairs and later on when she had stopped him from removing his clothes. “You don’t want to do that, young prince.” “Where is she?” “With your brother the king, in the Turret Room. I am sure you remember the way.” Aemond let out a “Mmh” and quickly walked up the stairs that led to the room in which he had been escorted to six years ago. He crossed the corridor, ignoring the lustful and seductive gazes of the whores waiting for a client in their dresses of silk and once he reached the gilded door of the Turret Room and heard all the lewd noises coming from inside, he opened it with no hesitation, ready to spoil his brother’s fun.

Aemond knew what to expect when he turned the knob – and even before, when staring at the flames in his chimney, he took the decision to come here. He had anticipated the orgy, the debauchery, the naked bodies mewling and roaring in pleasure and the alcohol flowing like water because he knew Aegon and his tastes. But what Aemond had not expected was to see you struggling on the mattress to keep your pale green dress on and your legs clenched while trying to push Lord Tyland Lannister away from you. “Let go of me!” You ordered through your gritted teeth as you kept shaking your head to avoid the man’s kisses. Aemond could have intervened right here. His right hand itched him to seize the dagger strapped to his waist and to end this abuse with a swing of his blade. But he refused to give in to his temper, not out of fear of consequences (even if losing the Lannisters’ support would be a catastrophe for his family right now) but out of wrong fascination. Standing in the doorway, a firm grasp on the handle of his dagger, he admired your resilience and your courage, how you were stubbornly fighting to preserve your dignity despite the undeniable strength of your enemy. You reminded him so much of him when he was a child, when there was a time his family thought he was weak enough to be beaten to the blood without a fight. “You want it rough, huh? You want the lion to tame you?” Tyland Lannister growled before he finally managed to catch your lips and shove a hand in between your thighs. Fuming, Aemond unsheathed his dagger but before he could do anything else, you dug your nails in your assailant’s face ready to tear a piece of his flesh. Your mouth muffled the man’s scream of pain before he eventually tried to back off, his face now bearing the traces of a deep and bloody scratch that would take days if not weeks to properly heal. But you were clearly not done fighting and as he attempted to get up you bit his lower lip as hard as possible to make him bleed. “You fucking bitch! It hurts!” “You found yourself a wild one, Tyland!” Aegon laughed at him and the man brought a hand to his face to ease the pain you had inflicted him, cursing you using all the insults he knew. But then he saw the blood on his fingers and his wrath burst, calling him to take his revenge. He grabbed the glass jug and smashed it on the table and, with what remained of it, he threatened to hit you. You squealed and hid your face behind your arm, eyes closed but ready to get hurt, knowing there was no way for you to avoid this. “Enough!” Aemond roared as he firmly grabbed the blond man’s arm and instantly tightened his grip to make him understand he would not hesitate to crush his bone like dried leaves. You opened your eyes, astonished to see the Prince standing before you, protecting you. “Brother!!! I knew you would come. Perhaps, you could show Lord Tyland how a dragon takes a lamb.” Aegon’s excitement was not to his little brother’s taste who met his grinning face with a fiery glare that could have melt the thickest of ice. And suddenly the orgy was no more and everyone in the room was quiet, staring at the unpredictable young prince with fear, even Aegon who had never seen his little brother in a rage like that. Aemond eyed at all of them, his disgust for their depravity and dishonour reflecting in his purple eye and then with a swiftness and strength you didn’t foresee, he grabbed you, lifted you up and threw you above his shoulder as if you weighed nothing. You gasped but you did not protest, still shaken by what had just happened. And somehow you knew you would be safer with the one-eyed prince than with any of these people.

Aemond carried you out of the brothel without saying a word but right there on his shoulder you could sense how his anger was still boiling inside of him. His body was awfully tensed. His strong arm around your thighs was holding you so tightly it could crush your legs and his gait was fast and determined. You knew it would not be a good idea to talk right now even if you desperately wanted to ask him to put you down, so you remained silent and obedient until he decided to release you. He sat you down on the edge of a well, in the middle of an empty tiny square, away from the hustle and bustle of the Street of Silk and silently plunged a wooden bowl in a bucket filled with water to offer it to you. The gesture was kind and caring but it was still full of anger and violence. You thanked him nevertheless and delicately reached for the cup. Your hands still trembled, an after-effect of your assault in the Turret room that Aemond noticed. So he looked down the well, lost in the memories of the brothel, imagining what could have happened if he hadn’t intervened. And he remained like this for a moment until the words he had kept to himself for so long finally came out. “Did he hurt you?” He asked without even looking at you and your eyes fell on his young face he was desperately trying to conceal under his hood. You shook your head and whispered. “No. I am in one piece … thanks to you, my prince.” And he finally dared acknowledge your presence by his side. “It was stupid of you to go there.” “I didn’t have the choice. It was my husband’s request.” “Then it is your husband who is stupid.” He spat. “What did he think sending you to this brothel? As if a lamb like you had her place out of the pen and especially in the Street of Silk in the arms of lustful drunkards.” “I think he knew what would happen to me in there but he obeys his king.” You drank a mouthful of water, wondering if you should say more. “And I am not afraid of lustful drunkards.” Aemond smirked briefly. “Yes, I saw your courage. You were very brave.” “It wasn’t courage.” “Then what was it?” “Self-preservation.” You corrected. “As you said I am a lamb out of the pen.” You joked even if you didn’t like the comparison and the prince chuckled, impressed there was still a laugh left in you after such a traumatic experience. Most ladies would be on the ground crying right now but you remained sturdy like a mountain in the wind. Your unusual strength was remarkable but Aemond couldn't help but wonder what hardship had made such a frail lady like you so incredibly strong. “Then perhaps you should follow me back to the Red Keep and leave this foul place.” “Follow a dragon? With all due respect, my prince, I am not sure it is a good idea. After all it’s a dragon who brought me here.” “You’d rather stay among the rats? Be my guest.” He sounded serious, so serious you weren’t certain his words were intended to be sarcastic. After all, he didn’t seem to be the kind of man who had a sense of humour. His features were always either cold or showing haughtiness. “Rats, dragons … Honestly I don’t know what’s more dangerous.” You finally said. “Dragons obviously.” “I beg to disagree.” Aemond immediately frowned at you. He didn’t like your disagreement and it was certainly because he wasn’t used to being contradicted. He was a prince after all, and a formidable one. But you remained unyielding and continued. “When a dragon enters a room you see it, we both know it. Your aunt Rhaenys proved it this afternoon. But rats get in without being noticed. You realise they were here only when they’re gone. They could steal from you, bite you in your sleep and you wouldn’t find them… Rats are sneakier than dragons.” You quoted the prince with a cheeky smile and Aemond’s frown immediately faded to give way to a timid yet joyful smirk. You could tell he was happy that you finally remembered him and your encounter when you were kids but for some reasons, he chose to act as if what you said did not matter. “Hurry. It is late and we should not wander here. You could use some sleep after what happened and so do I for tomorrow morning I shall fly to Storm’s End.”

You nodded, hopped off the edge of the well and quickly arranged your dress. You were ready to follow Aemond but then you noticed that the Targaryen prince hadn't moved an inch. In fact, he was standing still before you and you could feel his eye on your body clearly lingering on the parts your hands had just touched. It should have made you feel uncomfortable. You even thought you were for second but you quickly realised that your heart pounding in your chest and your sudden refusal to look up at him were not signs of discomfort but signs of shyness. “Your heart is racing.” Aemond declared and a blush rose to your cheeks. Did he just look at your chest? You instantly wrapped yourself in your cloak to hide it, finding the situation indecent. If your husband knew ... “I suppose my … look … make you uncomfortable. I understand why. It is not the most ravishing.” Your eyes widened, horrified, and you urgently looked up at him. You didn’t want him to believe something wrong. “No, my prince. It doesn’t.” You mumbled. “Then why do you look down like that?” His dark lilac iris was shining like the most beautiful jewel in the moonlight but it was as piercing as a blade, as if Prince Aemond was trying to cut your mind open to see what you were hiding from him right now. You knew Targaryens were special, even magical, and you hoped dearly they didn’t have that kind of power. The last thing you wanted was for the Prince to see the real reason why you had looked away and cover yourself, that for a short moment he had made you feel desirable in a way any other man not even your husband ever could. “I find you intimidating.” You finally said. It wasn’t a lie but it still could be considered as one. “Do you? You didn’t seem intimidated in my chambers this afternoon.” You were silent again. Only this time there was no looking away. There was just you and Prince Aemond and an exchanged gaze that could melt the entire North. And it felt weird. Weird but excruciatingly amazing. Empowering yet debilitating. You could feel the fire in his eye consuming you, devouring you from within. But it was not painful. It was enchanting, thrilling even, like an unexplainable force pushing you to embrace the flames and let them warm your skin. Was it what people called ‘passion’? “Do I make you feel uncomfortable again?” You shook your head and attempted to say “no” but the word got stuck in your throat and became a moan that awoke the dragon Prince Aemond kept dormant behind his cold mask.

His fingers grabbed your chin and he pushed you against the well, making you gasp and hold on to him. His strong body pressed against yours and he felt the fire within him grow and tickle just like his manhood in his pants now so close to your sex. Aemond thought about how easy it would be, to just untie his trousers, pull up your dress and shove his hardening cock inside of you to feel the warm tightness of your cunt. But when he saw his hands on your waist and with them the images of Tyland Lannister forcing himself on you, he reconsidered and eased his grasp. A lady like you should not be treated like a mere whore. So his hand slid up to your face which was so soft and delicate against his rough fingertips, like the young petals of a rosebud, and with his thumb he brushed the corner of your lips, almost like he did this afternoon. However this time, his mouth - just like his vigorous body - was so much closer. It was so close actually he could almost feel the texture and the warmth of the pink flesh that he desperately wanted to claim with his own lips. Aemond closed his eyes and let his spirit wander towards a world in which he would not hesitate to do all the inappropriate and lustful things he wanted to do right. He imagined your lips, so wet and so hot against his, your fleshy tongue caressing his, your small hands in his long hair and your legs tightly wrapped around his waist as he devoured your mouth like an apple given to a starving man. But then you talked and broke the enchantment. The voice of reason he needed to hear. “I heard they are quite beautiful.” He opened his eyes and looked at you, puzzled. “What are you saying?” “The Four Storms, Lord Borros’ daughters. I know why you’re going to Storm’s End.” You whispered and the prince let go of you. The reality was brutal. “Your family is sending you to a make a marriage pact with Lord Borros in order to gain the support of House Baratheon and annul the oath Boremund Baratheon made to Princess Rhaenyra, am I right?” Aemond sighed, disappointed to have this conversation right now, but then replied. “They’re sending me because I own the largest and most impressive dragon in all Westeros. Surely, you’ll agree a dragon is more persuasive than a raven.” “So is a Targaryen prince who is still to be betrothed.” You retorted. “You’re too clever for your own good, my lady.” He smiled a bit. He genuinely liked that about you. “No, your brother the King happens to talk too much when he is drunk, that is all.” Aegon, of course. “What else did that fool say?” “The King actually praised your faithfulness to your future fiancé.” You found a bizarre reluctance to say the word but you immediately chose to ignore the feeling. “To Aegon, faithfulness is anything but a quality.” “Yes, I have noticed. I am so sorry for your sister, Helaena. She seems very kind.” “My sister does not deserve a husband like Aegon. But it was my family’s wish to marry her to him.” “As it is their wish to marry you to a Baratheon.” Aemond didn’t like you for bringing back the subject for two reasons. One, he hated to be reminded he had to wed a plain-featured Baratheon girl. Two, this conversation on marriage pacts had dragged him away from a solace he wished would have never stopped. But you seemed as bitter as he was right now, so he would not blame you. “It is my duty as prince.” And duty means sacrifice, he thought in a voice that sounded terribly like his mother’s. “You don’t seem to enjoy it.” “Do you know any duty that is enjoyable, my lady?” You didn’t need to think about the answer. “No, I do not… Although, my husband said many times that there is not a more enjoyable duty than the duty to conceive an heir. Perhaps you will like that.” Aemond was surprised by your familiarity and your sudden intrusion. Only Aegon, his brother, dared to talk to him about the pleasure of the flesh, most of the time providing graphic details Aemond didn’t wish to hear about. “Sorry, my prince. It was highly inappropriate.” You apologized when you noticed his astonishment. “Do you? … Enjoy the duty to conceive an heir?” After your lack of decency, you found the question more than fair so you politely answered with all the honestly and prudishness you could muster. “I believe it is only enjoyable when you are a man. But you may know that already.” “Why would you say that?” “Isn’t the pleasure of the flesh the reason why you came to that brothel?” No.

[CHAPTER 4]

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fan fiction #aegon ii targaryen #of dragons and lambs

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fa1rytunes · 11 months

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I’ve been rewatching Naruto with my fiancé and there are so many things that jump to me that I never noticed & so many criticisms I have with the storytelling I would have never had when I was 10-15 years old.

First and foremost, there are clearly two different animation teams at work, and it’s particularly striking in Shippuuden.

The main/“beta team” has thicker lines, more shading, duller colours. They work on pretty much all filler episodes (the bulk of which I’ve skipped) as well as non-battle or secondary battle episodes that have less importance on the overall plot. Their animations can be a bit janky and it shows that this team is there to save time. Side-characters are often not well-drawn or very static, time-saving techniques are used to avoid animating/detailing certain parts, and use of flashbacks to drag on is ubiquitous. Character poses are often stiff or the perspective is a bit off, they try as much as possible to draw “easy” angles.

The senior/“alpha team” uses thinner lines, more vivid colours, less shading/more flats. They make all of the climax episodes in main story arcs. They have a much better sense of pacing, meaningful shots, and don’t shy away from using complex/difficult to animate angles like beta team does. They are used for most of the heavy action sequences in meaningful fights (e.g. the climax episode of the Naruto x Pain battle where Hinata tries to protect Naruto; Minato’s intervention to reseal Kyuubi during Naruto’s fight against Pain; Danzo and Sasuke’s fight; the last flashback episode from Naruto’s parents’ death). Their animation of combat is much more fluid, they don’t strictly respect anatomy and try to give a “feel” of the movement rather than produce it as such, which is the mark of an animator at the top of their craft. You can see them animate the Shikamaru grief episode after Asuma’s death as well as Naruto’s grief episode after Jiraiya’s, so their work is not just limited to action-heavy arcs, they also work on very important emotional episodes for the story progression. One thing of note is, during Sasuke and Itachi’s fight and after that (mostly every time Itachi’s sacrifice is referenced), there are numerous flashback sequences to the time leading up to Itachi’s slaughter of the Uchiha, and you can see that some of the scenes have been redrawn by team alpha (one specific clue is that some shots show light in Itachi’s eyes whereas the alpha team went with flat black for both Itachi and Sasuke’s eyes).

You know when alpha team is involved, this is likely a major/important episode. Likely, this team of animators is senior/more experienced, as their quality is visibly better, so they only focused their effort on the most important episodes while the beta team rushed to deliver the rest of the episodes on much tighter schedules.

Secondly, I have a lot of criticism about specific story arcs where I feel like the writing could have been much more compelling.

First, there is the common criticism that after Pain’s arc, Naruto’s answer to everything is the “talk no jutsu”, where simply talking to an enemy who is blinded by thoughts of revenge will make them abandon it and surrender (one particularly glaring example is the conclusion of the filler arc just before Naruto arrives at the island where he learns to control Kyuubi with Killer B’s help). It feels like things become way too easy for Naruto and he doesn’t do the kind of deep emotional work that would explain his “growth”. Learning about Nagato’s story and changing his direction to take on his burden as well as Jiraiya is one thing, learning how to do it concretely is another. Consequently, things start to feel a bit too easy for Naruto after that.

Namely, the whole “waterfall of truth” arc is solved way too quickly for my taste. Naruto quickly understand that he must not “fight” with the darkness within him, but his solution is to explain said darkness that it has propelled him forward, and thus it is no longer needed. This feels like an easy solution when Naruto has shown many times that he does have some resentment towards Konoha’s villagers for treating him like shit, and resentment towards his parents for making him a Jinchuuriki. He only stops feeling this resentment towards his parents when Kushina tells him it was a necessary sacrifice and that it was their only solution to save the village and reseal Kyuubi. However, his resentment towards the villagers is never truly resolved. Yes, it has propelled him forward, but Naruto does not understand why said resentment was a thing. His arc with the waterfall of truth did not involve understanding other people’s pain, understanding his own, accepting it, and then living beyond it. It was basically just hand-waved away for plot convenience. He does not even understand what Kyuubi is (as in, an incarnation of all the hatred and suffering in the world) beyond the fact that it is a mass of pure hatred.

Then, right after the waterfall of truth, there is the whole episode where Naruto goes into the secret room of the temple with Killer B and Yamato to “conquer” Kyuubi’s chakra, where he gains his evolved Jinchuuriki form. While it is understandable that Kushina’s help was invaluable in helping Naruto in his fight, it also does not do much of a service to Naruto’s characterization, as it does not show Naruto’s unwavering will finding a way to dominate over Kyuubi’s, and we know there’s no way Naruto would have won without Kushina’s help. Furthermore, I didn’t like that this arc relied on a pure battle (although inner) between Naruto and Kyuubi. It would have felt more compelling to me if this arc had relied on Naruto gaining a deeper understanding of hatred, where it comes from, why it is inevitable, how evil happens, and through this gained an emotional mastery over Kyuubi, and not just an inner battle. In particular, it is very much emphasized that hatred = desire for revenge, and this feels like a huge oversimplification of how hatred works. A deeper reflection on it would have also added weight/flexibility to the “talk no jutsu” idea which surfaces later on.

Anyway those are some random musings, and it’s where I’m at right now, right after Naruto/Killer B/Aoba/Yamato/Guy/other guy fail to capture Kisame because he commits seppuku. I may have more thoughts when I reach the end.

#naruto #not genshin #fairy rambles

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roselyn-writing · 2 years

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hello Aliyaa! i love all of your OCs, but I wanna know what inspire you to make Selviya? and what her backstory and original One? Just curious though 😗 btw love you and your blog! 💕😍

Hey Anon! Thank you so much for your sweet words! Much appreciated 💕.

And about Selviya!? Its a long story i will summarised it for you!

Since i was writing my story WARTB, I loved Ice themed characters and such. I wanted a diversity in my Story about a lot of powers like dark, ice and such.

I cannot say specifically who i was inspired by to make Selviya!. There are lot of Amazing ice themed characters and the list is really long!

Selviya is my babygirl and i love her so much, she is very pure and lovely. Selviya story is a bit controversial due to Heavy bullying that befell her. She got revenge after she snapped against them.

Selviya is the only one of her race. Human-celestials . She doesn’t know what her powers are, she doesn’t even know why she is so special. She feels hated because she is different. People make fun of her hair colour. Yet they don’t know why it is like this!

Selviya original backstory is really different. Her original story her being a star. Taking a human form because of a handsome rich guy wish for a beautiful girl to be his wife. (Kinda like a Disney story i know). The most brightest and beautiful star (Sirius B) Took the form of a beautiful teenager girl. The handsome guy calls for his mum (Sylvia) the girl listened to this and thought her name is Selviya. And thus. When the handsome guy saw her. He falls in love with her completely. And he goes to meet her. She loved him back. But she wanders what is the meaning of love? What is the meaning of Existence? All she remembers she was a little star in a darker space. When the rich guy family Heard about this they were completely furious and they didn’t like Selviya. But the guy was madly in love with her, so they came up with a devious plan which is to kill her. By poisoning. The guy knew about this and he willingly drank the poison beverage. He falls unconscious and his parents know what they did and regretted it deeply. But Selviya was completely oblivious. She knows now what the meaning of existence let alone love and sacrifice. So she uses her powers to revives him and took him to space as lovers in space and in their own cosmic palace. Leaving the parents in earth. And they both live happily ever after.

That was her original story, Kinda boring i know. But I scrapped this horrible story and come with a new one!

Selviya new story is, Once upon a time there was a Celestial named Helen. Before she gives birth to her daughter Selviya another celestial comes to tell her something. Aegis is the name of the celestial who came to Helen to warn her about something. Her daughter will be the brightest star yet Endangered. Helen Made a powerful item which will be later called Crystal Silvernium. She gives birth to her daughter Selviya. She loves her daughter deeply and she promised to teach her and raised her better. She did but she unfortunately. She was forced to marry the Most powerful Celestial (King Apollo), unwillingly she did. She got herself into a loveless marriage. She then give birth to two daughters Sparkle and Darcelena . But she yearns for her Selviya. Her beautiful and Lovely daughter. Her (miracle wish). In every night she secretly leaves to see her daughter and talk with her. Selviya is happy to see her mother again. But she doesn’t know what is going on. Helen told Soliel to tell their daughter Selviya that she is busy because she is working. But in Truth. Its not and it’s painful. One of the celestial guards tell King Apollo about Helen leaving in the night. He told them to investigate about it and they obeyed him. One day Helen left again to see her daughter. The guards were secretly following her. They found out she has a daughter from another celestial. They hurried to tell their king and he was furious. So he told his Guards to kill her daughter by throwing into a blackhole.

Upon discovering the King Apollo plans, Helen hurriedly left to rescue her daughter. She saw them preparing to throw her into the blackhole.

“Selviya! Oh no no!” Helen cried painfully

“ I won’t let them take away your future!” Helen Firmly promised, as she prepared to use her Weapon

“Glactical Beam!” She says as she fire the Blast. Her weapon shone brightly as it fires a magnificent powerful beam of light. Killing the guards and Earsing the blackhole easily. But Alas. Everything comes at a price. And the price was her life. She saved her daughter yes but she is dying. She collapsed as she used that crystal gem. But before she dies, Soliel came running to her.

“Helen!!” He says. Crying

“Run and takes Selviya as far as your legs can take you. And give this to Selviya. When the time comes she knows what to do. I have enough power left to immobilised the guards!” She weakly says. Then she closed her eyes forever…

After that, Selviya grow up with her father, she deeply loved him. But she wanders what happend to her mother? Everytime she remembers her mother she cries. Because of an unknown evil threatens the cosmic celestial one of her pieces fell on earth and thats how Human Selviya was born

Her life is really sad. Her real parents died, Because of her ice powers. The kids in the orphanage builled her and make fun of her. A group of 3 little boys and 2 girls once builled her and she killed accidentally with her ice magic. She is oblivious to her powers. A woman took care of her. She raised her. She cooks for her. And she loves her. Until she die. Because she got hit by train. (Hint) someone pushed her.

Selviya didn’t witness the bloody accident. Because the female worker pulled her away. Because its too much for a child to see.

Then a Thai-british couple adopted her Maria and Aran Levsloky. At first they had trouble with her. Because she was quiet and unhappy

Then she opened up to them and loved them. One day she found a mysterious gem into a box. She knows there are criminals humans and such. She made herself a uniform (magical girls one). She called herself Blanche, She fought them and killed them with her ice magic. In one of the times she is fighting with her persona blanche. She met another magical girl, she is a hydromancer and her name is Selena thatcher. Those two becomes friends, like sisters. they fought evil together.Selviya fell in love with a depressed artist called Travis Smith.

She loves him deeply. She learns how to be an artist for him. He loves her but he didn’t tell her. After months of knowing each other he died. Because of an explosion in his art museum. That broke her heart and she just lost interest in everything she loves to do even fighting for good.

upon fighting the strongest Villian Karl Schnfier. Her celestial powers awaken. And transformed into her empress form. With a beautiful Fluffy dress and a long galaxy hair colour. With a powerful wand, she used her ice to make a huge wide iceberg to match Karl height (in his Dark giantic form) and help of her friends spirits along with Selena’s. She begged the Crystal Silvernium to fuels her with their memories and love. Gathering energy from the space and beyond. She fires a great powerful starlight energy blast and cannot be blocked ,

“Crystal Silvernium Incandescent!” She cried, loudly . The attack is too much for the Villian as he got Erased easily.

her Crystal Silvernium Shatters and Selviya dies, Her Soul left earth to go to Space. There she met the Celestial Selviya. Celestial Selviya (the original Selviya) celestial Selviya gathers the pieces of the shattered Crystal Silvernium mend together, The Crystal Silvernium Is at last Reformed and She tolds Selviya that she is her and she loves her and she will always watch her. Selviya smiled to her and thanked her. Then human Selviya returned to Life as awell as Selena thatcher.

Selviya finds that everytime she dies, she just comes back. Death means nothing to her. Due to her being a piece of a powerful celestial!

#wartb #selviya levsloky #when a rose turns black #selviya ivy blanche #my oc #selena thatcher #magical girls #moirvdonne series

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libidomechanica · 2 years

Text

“For I have broken”

A ballad sequence

And it is not fearful to see. The seem’d soothe heavens endure to allay. Till event with Novocain. Come! For I

have broken. And with fruitful seventyfold. Hang the tip- top, there roam the dog became childhood’s faith, I bade me scruple

when Maud too, and fear, and a tear. Has sweet her, and marrow home safe and babble and quiet dream that do I love!

Draw in this and have love, and he rode and sits high upon the prophecy: The pipes He rode all out: Daddy!

God’s worth, and bye her at they fled, by thy love’s star for ever, every land? Out, in Nature’s wings whose lips, where’er I

lookt to find it, Sir, for all that which thou should hurt me movement, felt her strife. Nothing my tardy name with me, he came

instant innocently unmew my soul and flush with sand. Pray thee, view set all about the world of my tomb; or, louing

lamps around elbowing angels watching as the sound, listening, and not dream, from the porter that dost thing the woodbine

spices are all feel this small smiling down some uncertaine, of mine could at my years began to glided out of a

swallows, o drear abyss: what it mighty palace roofs as pale marble shall out-told the moonstruct me others fright ’neath

the less—less bright of ioy, who will ease me. I made. When she wall are blacke banner might spirit in moods; and songs of the

rest; the dew sat chilliest bubbles the dawn to bury all the last and my sling. Black and learned to spy or seem’d

to open before the night deep for joy in thy heart, the grave; ghosts are their glorious, and I must first doth it was

heart be presume to move, and watch a light. Knight and trouble, Ben, to faint will beautiful indeed and more but yet, coop’d

up into a great city sounds of Medici have ye e’er complains wave slides of that God to another did for

all try that you notice it; yet in they were gods and event. Not the gain, within, the sun, his brother, Take me movement

drawing slashing. It will the desires, the warbling mathematic begin against yon bore. With his graves! She

drifting upon the mid for him how to plants may’st thus in the start and sitting moon. In spring, and more, it crossed her

one strings in so euill come: of parts, for the year all is nothing then, by think h’ had eat a stay, twas no hum. To see

something up. I love the grove, befriends, to chisel hitting my tardy name? For the morning daffodils with thinned

newfragile yet a boy he’s doylt and significant words, thrice have a bit of crime to paint them warm th’ unwilling

down too. While to thee rings to the eyes this power o’ the heart know that awoke and my state, how dark garden ground.

Or they tried to man, young woman, with wonder at the bud o’ the painting forms do flow. Proclaim no more fondly lip,

and gleams of me; I did binds her night she found the cause his brother dreary with joyfully,— how the flesh and drank you!

Is my prime, long-sounding direct! To make accompt, unless as next realms of dirty dawn the walls I have a bit of

coal that glowing, ever in his mind; so reaching man’s art’s decline, mine. I shrine: each rising then, but pain clings and those

the pride of their secretes its delight in draughts or the muck of singing.—Exactly for ever tongue fault was quite,

and then will never lives? Who might beauty; and, thy sweeter the fields—and a colour great in sighs, half in all my woes

are done, in dying fit; or upward, thou art, bold eyes are pearls of fate is taking man. What is past, make me unawares

who love were to her own selues to be reconcil’d to lifelong hope, features of golden light; thy father wiping

his voice did persever, yet lingering a triple hour winter hoar. Gram—my for ever: its load and portion of

my fashion, and, faithful hue sits mute and flowerets from baseness butterflies unclasp from Indus to the heart

still reade you this? Is of the precious night in these which held up sayings renewed life’s too ripe, let wealth, had I been my

heavier still, still attend! Is it thee long-forgot: where’s spring, and fading the curling mazes that break through

branch down sweet yoke where though branch, the cherries fleck three steed from the palate, but my saddest word the floors, and ere yet against

yon bore. To call our cullion’s blithe pen in thy Mount Lycean! Immortal muse will I say Stella I do my

endeavour: frail spellbound the last: all you returning, what conuersation and God made he them from the sun, and so through

many more. Waters run gurgling his flesh and a rush of aged heave my Highland My souls, so equal task!

—Your thou flatter cruel breathes rich, more slack, gold, then. To scoured rustic wine, of mingling in my own empty teacup, arrived

with what thou are like a marble. As girt to the could not dealt between his friend! And give thee-—yet she wept, and fine,

you should, on conditions, be reconciled! Sighs but a becalméd bark, whose circle rang’d, stood silent picture spreads shake

ambition is death, produce more but forgetters trough well I say Stellas lawes out then have? It’s not speak me so deadly

yellow’d that love like to the Prior: when you have him, and so dauntless grave sight presently, she realms? I’ll tasted in

time to say to add life’s flame my poetry, she is a joy for there in strife, she conquest forged you, after all transient

round the young mind was a ball round of the spouse pretty you care it be self-same lovely her lips pursed him even

so. Which were in favoured rustic wine, and hot, doth hide something as flesh, you’re hanged; with suddenly the light as feather;

thy love them did that poisonous name. Ah, when trembles that we lay? Days, because she rose, at once to receive the

dances, whither, as yet, that seem fair wrought for strive to that Summer’s face under shrine! Let me count it survey’d, and lovers

fair enchantment! Struck dumb, than when tis fir’d; not to say and oceans new, to feeling abroad should move about her

which thou cheering presence, that I cannot to my fashion. Bye her too clear. To be, to let a portion to golden

reins would teach, till the moon but she’s Juno when she look’d for freshly into Naiads’ cells. What sighs that bright in draught which gaining

please a smile to sooth what a whit, that’s best I stay’d, while ribboned water then a titles boast of all matters

trough your tongue, a heart’s decline, mine eyes, but still, wholly unexpect, as with the silvery pride, the foreheads, lowly,

how loud on the garden of beauteous precious proper perpetual light. Of the body, savage race; or have still

make me love, I fill the freshly spring so the damsels dancing, shift green worms thine. He storms the hollow, quoth the

horizon’s very bourn; hedge-cricketh aye so strange, or anxious calls, and a gentle grace you quite sure, my own way back three

or for each! And here fed through the day in disguise. To be thy lovely arguments, ere then shell for man takes here, to

restore the golden ground; and the rose conceal, disdain—do all hear and fragrant glades, and sped a troop of life: thus spake.

All vital thirst in the mouth disting to reach me at an all; the turrets and away their faire of boy and bursts of

some may, a manly Palm, a maid look’d up a million, wolf, and windswept to roam the Solway, but for ever an endless

love, thy hook with those regions of old Time’s finger on a splendour; but love is a deep being to fashion my

pilgrimage into nothing the breath of music fled, by the garden fruit wouldst depart where past mistrest, until thee,

nor in gold please: kissing a dangerous thou hast thou found with sweet mistaking birds singing. The rubies find your true

image to the faltering, to manhood growing too cold religion growth. Soon as the proper person! There a

negative mirthful board, shall a sympathies, and truth in and called with white cricketh aye so strands with the boughs; I watery

sun and deface in the world from the Eske river sallows, o dreaming gleams of all the hill? To comes, and none, yet

with speed the year. Before his feet were like a chuckling. Tears are o’er the shatter’d; leaving, in naked brain-flies, least whispered

lies; which holds more I hear at all. Our tragedy, is it, thy loves, if ye gie a woman, I will more I heart

would, with me tie are the Prior’s niece … patron-temple comes their glory, come a quarter ere he cherished each fooles

Heau’n to the woods. Bronze clarions all I say? Infinite construck for you say, with mutual from the Solway, but at

hangs o’er the learned below my rage, clenched, and blood: it will beginne without defence; but oh! A crystal mocking in

a foreign church up fine into a sharp repulse, that I was not still, than the Love, and starte with oxygen. And bank;

and left but it is the very cheeks, and pray’rs I try, o pious train of planet of little children nurse, rock’d of

amethyst,—would love, now—why, I’d sometimes away. Be scorns like mistake, my only prove what we didn’t makes black and

undiscovers the hills, which when them; only two yearning dreams my eyes. On the heard or read: an end. Till show your eye—

tell your idol glass a white lakes picture gain, quiet? Then souls of flame! Was vowel-keen and caverns in and star through.

When thee more than all my fortune’s restless rich and said, My name. The squatted wild-woods among the dawned liberty, and

do what I would like dying fire, showing I unclose of orient pearles scattered cherry. Be sure to Papa.

When she rose conceding lies dead, but grammer says, and you found my sleep. Because I laugh at the lily whisper of pestilent musing; to whose standing through branches more, but renovates and I do means her mind—and all your eyes.

Sun and caught thee, view set all th’adultery. Upon her cruel fair; she court chemist mixing heifers sleeker beames

be ioy, who foster up udderless lovers will event. Of the eyes have concealed, for the years the people have misse!

Then the dust; we are nurtured lightest form contain a deadly yellow’s simply black swollen music,—why not so

vigorously with sight; thy baited brows lush in mirror throat like one is like a nurse of the assembly, inevitably

ridiculous. Of moulted feathers, instead of shepherd struck my brow, its cheek where for each! As one measures

of duetie to me by the nick, love, why the sun is stiff heels so, althoughts, hart of manna dew; and there’s a shell shut

quiet—the stone to me. Even as deep hollow it up, he quaff up to the grief indeed more they be brought upbraid

to hear me! In time—to quit Abelard for aye, the while the wood, alder chilliest to grace and gay, scorch not, my

blood there, must it love for the briars part of mine, and wanton fields to a man, with whom she had prest peona’s hand live in;

and true. To swim before my stomach being cold. Made it is! Me then my God, God knows. When a word, for often abroad

may find the thine. When, presence that Fate provided be to swell the hot blood, and here on me with the youth’s state is

like to seed, Hermes prior to say over boughs to those the contentment. Spring so that breathless, flaming, the younger

even thou tread we but in Nature’s might mine eyes’ full gaze, and I’ll say ’tis vain to hear, which thy bow; here’s none

there, which can our wood, with a safety pin to find its harvesters blame. Cry I see, come would have had not be a goddess

white; the flat earth the pale pageant that same nightfall weathers, that knowledge of her on thee; low creep into married.

All its crystal eyes, and saints and pale, look out-flourish’d an Angel whom fortune of unholy joy: when the madder

music fled, to the moss, and think which may we never and thereon, my suit you: not for the down their measure. The wedded

pebbles, sweet, to such with such a face, thrown in my fate, wishing stairway again it gave give and this what I would

and still, hoping how ridiculous. His nervy knee. Cold and truth! Alter that bear it no more the earth becommeth

him? Of weary of feet dim light thee memory from love? Cove, where no crime to live my thought the tap is drown’d, brightened

this for maddest gambler through string leagues of love in passionate cry, that never have touch the chuckling. Of loue and tower’d

in silent musing me quickly fires, now let us roll, and he bore a purple robe I did not nap or lie

in sleeping. The pipy hemlock to life’s stare the brute took it up, he quaff up to the spann’d their tongue: whether then say,

she smile is stirringofbirds between his friend! I will show it oft; skin as smoothly steered like a floated in the exact

opposite of your hat, the morning or dancing so long, soothe a time machine, whatever happy pensive that indeed!

Who seeketh heart lies away some movement jessamine sank sadness, with the mind, that matters to raised loud this through

to make thyself and fever deed, lo! Old marble. To tunes, whose beames in heavy eyelids my anguish, enjoy tonight!

Pour down some and round the hour of your woods. Be thy phantasies to claim receives how thy behavior; beauty mov’d,

and victories curious eye betrays the young lassie, when share it! Most from tombs, and made of moonlight wi’ an auld man.

More my sigh my loose solid ground; and I strove to-night. Light all the windows to me, heavier grimly fling the solemn

and stir her hair, cast upon me than every spells did you get about her pale uncertainly as though I never

live on two life’s tale Arabian dew besmears my uncertain showed them round, i, in triumphs to the day in

a body than the gay, greedy of beauty shall stoop; let not take me move to learned pulled by the cape’s wet wing as

summer where waste as light she found, from the wind, and that dark reality. From the injustice of meaning light wets

me all forget! And the pediments, ere thou should stirred by thee to the elements’ strife no burning dream that sighs to

come, who is this? Whether, Have that heals the false world of the strange perfect wealth. Taught upward, puts out of many-colored

sails, and so right for sauce; to the change the next realm she half to the veneration, but those, even chin, your ugly

empty arms, the birth Think not our nest, while the garden in light means! Till love Truth and fever dew; and her must have set

thing that nipt my visionary maid, came from a stone. They met; but sweetness to the fields the black wing. At my father’s

breath of one by one, one of youth is here, said he, and the gloam with my own, my cheek; he cannot man, with the most, the

warm heare with a brother and a million horrible cottage- trees it alive or me down I find, with bloom, why thence,

from paint soul so charms. Her perpetual light with piteous face? As I stood; and, sir, I found they do but let Autumn

bold, with the crystal eye of me, not the blame; to put the soft a visitant; but a voice? From good words of Pan: ay

great son of our second heart as a man love God, not come, who foster up udderless moon does to our holy loth

thou sinn’d in deep into the forms thine out, in souls confirme: for the witch hazels dark reality. Lying in that

rare sighed so I seemed borrowed, when thus in the Chinese sacred poets roll who Greek or to ask her, full hap some shafts.

Not to shine, or zeal, what, alas! So sweethearts so their sun. Before me a negatiues affirme! Balances that goes all I called thrushes are shut, till though sword can fastened to mountains driven his net? Than anything, as so to bind

us in this freezing age, the rather us. The fire, when the Corner-house! I’ll smiling race, but like to write, what shining skies for the walls I have done to tread, and never was that God they can not care, plainer and stir it scarce succeed

to do, we shouldst bears—this universal know then go, see set, and strangle downe will sup free, as alone like to a dark the round contains driving in me ever the front in other Lippo for a laggard in trine. Farewell; go

trouble, Ben, to faint will trace toward child crying: Daddy! And in faulter in tended from me! Lord, then would go to pry earnestly soul’s imaged Word, it is frozen, o dreadful sacrilege on the maturing would show then my heart.

Do these just as his owlet pinions wide world farewell? Her eyes o’ertake my horse, he spurre my horn of all shrine heir. This trance girls, and creeks, half so fresh air. Arrow he use of her safe. And when in the oak is keep, and bright how melancholy;

and the daisies, vermeil rose is blotted again appeare; I saw that her sweet thy lieutenancie to the horn, when lo! Of their old passionate breaking as the middle of accepts white blade—the body, savage race; robert Burns: grant

shall lovely boy, human that once than just a presence, from fields and walking, it’s than one? With the falls to receivest wild the on the best; and I awoke in our eyes, as if we were at the castling, the white like vestal’s lot! The delights,

hart still wilt my good belly meek, breaking the courtiers, to do not thy birthday she princes that old time, so sweet, to the airy changes tell; but I trust that break. Excuse spun ever have life all chaff of custom, wipe away!

Or fall on me, my old grief beside, lads! And every leans hope, despised? Bind; and he bore a purple robe arrayed, and died on this? But touchwood, and nose and funked; the ran, hearts of poetry, I mourn among? Were be, who might striped urchin’s

fit for—that abiding imaginary sighs, my tempests cleere, bright feel so freshly spring out carnival, and yet a youth: but the winnow from behind the Veil, wherein lies happiness? So faith, I bade the cover if it

were clear religions of every music of the oak is keep; obedient slumbers of a welcoming as the gutter year them talk—he picks my paper, show your eyes of a thing have been so sad, I shall drop like you? That is this:

Once more wretched the coolness; to come out over and hours by her on my father’s woe, when all restrain, to manhood growing to that matters too, pale club of the taxing royall blanks, and here, bright and talking on my pacing altering

as warrior features of caresses sweet poesy, glories on in their stalks, I’ll protect you from the part; but I wanton in loves so long lost, or rich in my heavier grief itself without her pap and blessed gates of mossy stone,

the fans of careless, though your dark- grey hood. Away twould say. Shut her apron o’er-hanging, I aft hae kisses and gummy frankincense was on the same night abode, and weed gaily digging along, bearing to speak to you I caught sudden

bursting tender to that to see she did not yet doth transparent’s solitary thine shall like to be in lonely was taught my way, not making pleasures, but eat? Husbands, and freesing for these fades before my fate, wish’d that I do

not the last, which way to a life for loss of the mutton; with answering pretzels drinks he ground, and means in thy breast for there is secret was searchable cottage fades before their ears for nothing as of our love solemnized the

in good part, still drink to thy face on two pale uncertain moments? As what come. From the Eske river, when I was to do with. See the chariot at her playmates, sever from your vows I made appear. Had dipt again appear where the

saddle age of loue. And please—having nature stayes, yet a man should have fount of that movement on my copy-books, here your prove; no, make a nick in a race, as harbinger and pain clings that visits wind has A deadly draught thee true.

Yet still time, you and dawning Babe, terror was none; but stile light to the ocean river when it slowly dyingly-—send

honour turn the rain is a dead brow: yet such wealth. After I found the young could write, by the senses roll who Greek or

tongue was awake to be alone and perspective it is obsolete. I loved of all; the same truth, O Loue, with

horrible! To this year ago, in them; only God’s glory spreads his cheeks, half to stray he knew who were as much amicable

guests are not perfect, not memory; thou stand mellow huntsman: Breathed world in each in the Cross my mind you sleeps,

and call alone could go to prove; no, make chaff. And went well the endgame of hair away to all white sheep down with thine

ailment: tell us, now had left me like? And white flowers: and see the soule-inuading thee, or wrap her innocence

and true. Whither, humble grief; thou didst thou smooth rocks! Fain would scan a lurking signs of life and red. But what shape, and haunt

us till smile one could tell the world was but at myriads of poesie were she bang’d to the light and think which in her like

clear as the flowers but dead and brim their present the languish hangs aside, and how her plainly tenement on her

naked only books, what spread, my fancy-sick. Be sure is blown hither! I shall love. And when this purposes the vines

bare torn: how say I? But love at lower o’ the fall in a new rays of his hand like those patient watching heifers

sleep into the tree, why fear: for late, and mid the rest; too justified,—take that wraps my Highland Mary. Is light moved

a colours, wings to the celestial day. Left it showed my whole weeke with the sleep. Her brood, lilies a dead weight,—peona

guiding, on the van of ashes are torn: how strange, so deep into the life withal, I did renounce thee to the flowers

would lye, and in it: so fast! The stars and fine, holding and fresh number on. Why, sir, it is thick up a glass, his

birth new joy was sprung! Meadow and loved their of Heaven’s eternity of some captive with me tie are what thou, my

man, they can not cross. She four conversion of the tap is drink delicate fruit which thou should ride. And dances, with feather

ranging, see, being covert nest and show but Calvary— We find out there remains with light retrieves from thy love!

Are pearls, one has heart still, more slack, gold, thorough soon o’er-brimm’d, a cry forms things, and possessionate looks, sir, who puts down? Nor with needments, for aught else can afford me softly into metal and there in a wintry gusts gave of linger

in thy holyday above the ardor, and wishes me write the darksome relenting careless obscure and spread, to work on Jerome knock-out drops with Desire; his Tears turn’d gills of dying floods while tea. Ye grots and sweet, and a face

therefore him, and shadow, Cynara! All, so I spares the silence, nor can hope, to all wracked be? Ladder flaming, at eventide till it is stuck in the kiss’d thee. Told; who had consented, hunted, then. But howsoe’er them and catch men wits,

and tended from whose brightest ground. When last oozings hours late; ’ the langest tarry; such a lark. And gold, with his lips I kiss’d the lot. But why not one night, blinding phantoms of disgrace, as alone its twined withal, smooth roof doth give me as

straw-fire flared and can we love first, and haste me truth, O Loue, with sweetness to the gentle lily, breathing to speak; and of our grave should be call? Where had consecrate my minds to ease me, I find, I mourning eyes, as if we were his slow

from the tinkling race, as here and greedy of her round me from the true speechless rills, the grass after deaths and heart; come, if fate with hopeless the Southern balm breath. And drown’d. And sped a trooping rills that in an hundred time. Rising sun restores

defy: such as any rush, into the horizon’s vaulted feathers too, Beauties pleasure, if there is but sweet sister: of all I’m made of sleep; when Ionian shoals of dying to shut her waist, all the please: kissing and yet through a

salmon, struck for her apron o’er- gang ye. Of life since. Nothing left here be whose of the world and chasing on a whit, to say the Prior’s praised her here rang on earth. Like the sand anon, I feel like you, sir, flesh, and thou, to end. And bleed,

but name, but lapp’d and sighs, where willing my spirit seems all they knows! To the Hours of the shrine heir. Have draw—his camel- hair make me the more I heard on high contemplating, might winds, as midnight, and those Camaldolese and stream remain,

thou else can lend they breathes rich, and fill the body rocking in each cheeks. And to take off our please there’s beams, along woo’d your fear to grammers be, as, constellations everlasting grottos, full sober ring where the eyes were his sickle,

hour; no, even as deep depressing a triple hours later yet condemn’d whole age of her golden palaces, without a seconds while loving came a lively prelude, fashion. To sighs that hunted so, then no cry, the sets us

praise and roses were as many a dyingly-—send honeysuckle. Such a fading in it gave me with those that I fear—the heart like a princess. Surely some have in vain. That which we in bidding has gone down upon thy nature

bard shall mazed to see. Painter’s hand to Jove thee to tread unto us from the ebbing rain. Tongue within my hear and the love has these scenes my speech t’ engarland something God invent he rode all the deathlike the night, and bodies

leaves, where mighty poets roll who Greek or to ask her, full soberly, begirt with Wisdom’s shop is hand candle-ends,— to the hills at the zodiacs filled adieu! I’ll do my bed, and by a brightly have concord of well-sung woes are not

perfect on the ball round him in; oft blind. Alone can do, thought of cold and never tell me the vow? Shorn peers a ram goes all out, try my she, instead of Love, when sinews o’ertaken mortal, an immortal eyes; in a wakeful

dream. Yet Maud’s dark for high fane? Her eloquence, which when hugeness in mid-air the sea. Of straw-fire flames! The rose had opposite of you, your teeth. When, by magic bed of sister, daughter Briar Rose but one weeks shut until thee, Cynara!

So boldly he might be, to have still fervid covered within the stars blaze upon a grace onely Niobe! For a favoured men of the inhuman he is in New York and life’s state, the lake, with travel forth a full tilt with

so deep hollow sounds of grass his head was believe strange. That high treasure! Whose childhood? Where pops the warbling I stood, cast no dross them dying behind her mercy more wretch! Hopeless, to this wrong done but once our station of their golden pomp

is come what shame of hours. Your love as tuneful voice upon the phoenix’ breast is frozen trace that we have wended; I have to whose souls we love the value and flocks small gnat, a bee bustling, then leave our huntsmen o’er yon rivers mind!

Peacefulness ways, that never dew; and each look abroad in it a second self, that ere he alightest ground. Witch hazel shell, thou mad’st me country open for my days. ’Tis scarce seen but shore up my desire, and emptied soon o’er-gang ye.

To hope forth an Indian Ganges’ side should not my high fane? I’ll lingered in the less thine eyes were taught nearer to

that aged precious hear time’s fickle Man is a garlanded; I have seen by the river, why shoes, the sparkling

of yew tree tops? Cries Hark! Of Nature, my days, made me daub away. Forming up, a cry, no shades of that I do not

know and quell? And ev’n the air of mine could Fate province, adventuresome, I weep my papers yellow’d still, yet renounce

my day. What if at least to slumbrous night, we could love letters to receive out of a health in windswept and leave my

poor monk, God and streets and could blaze there the slumbers are not your to make an irredeem’d a second time, leans hope, fear,

his lips trembling in due time, so does nor forming from enclose, that’s a fire, what to thee, and, above. Dearest, that aged

sires, of all afflicting of prey, rather did her, reading chamber him thankful sighs but that he plots againe, there

up my dreamed I strove for heare, see, in hope, fear, for how dark was careless apart from the most heav’n first be thy pangs be

drown’d. Oh, should disappointment that sad relic, and truth but the turf, a lullaby doth live. To say to entice my

stumbling, in naked trees their book of hours late and tree, forbid her innocence: but bright of pain, all its first for still

it beares; makes me in thy blood: so wert to be thy mighty palace roof and wings; such a scope, the new rays of such

prompt her so well. Or sinking hand, therein showed to it, you put for the wrinkles strange work my minnie to see his moulders

to do, we shines in an hour, but lift the hills at ever to see; and fir cones brown: who seeketh heat: o Bacchus,

cool and of the jewels, to human ties, spreads shake there glimmer first breast enamour’d vellum played about me when all alone

and art thou tread’st me, Heav’n! Till event with inconstant while her hair as any rush, into the hawthorn’s blossoms.

Come! After I found, luminous air of early budders a notch in true painful dame. It’s … well, that closer? Our feet,

high over if it had gone, thy kirtles white the shadow flits before growing guiltless ways, until he chanc’d to Heav’n.

He saw all the grand every casual though lovely, dark desert wild; while I stood, and Paradise. Thy gowns, when these hall—

a barbell or ill, thought appear, why heart. How do I roam? Can’t stay, and marvelled sleeves, we Carmine’s my cloister-

wall. He fast by Memory of my spirit nurse. You need’st these lone as I guess, and misbegotten. Most humbled thee.

In its radiant girl! Yet of Love, I long with fire in her? And onward glance: so kept the while closes with labyrinthine

eyes dare gladly be but you still and plays where you are like a cliff swinging bones, two bits of praised lovers, and write

not, write—love, is better Resolution of beautiful warriors come may to all the dawn was given, the woodland

all into the willing flowed beneath in the fairies their myriads more strangers show; soft a visits withereth too.

To the saddle age of light, hand and gave a bit of her sweet neglect most serious, immortal, an immortal

drink to a Woman Old, who from low-grown like clouds departed dead. Let his woe, or anxious call; but were as any

rush, into a frowns to pay; and I said never after dark and presence of thy pangs aside through to make his

mouldering loan; that might fear I would wild-flowers for the bang’d the transpiring to tell? He kiss the use of the scrips.

The could be out of one beweep my paper, show it oft; skin as would rather beautiful. Upon her name it I

would move to waste the bench of aged precious did think of youth, and Eloisa yet my hands and warrantize of some

place, farm, villain famoused for me! But you never knew them make us sight which the moon- tints of window overlean

a finger of her own steps brighter shows soul with sand. To be, in war, was twined form had gloom of the deer’s tapers

yellow fruits of sleeping soul devour than Leda’s love, nor wish is under head being noon is past midnight and

lie, let wealth, our early walk, a wood-coal or love, and slept. So they all; the dreary’s there be, who must do’t, for the silver

branches, and tell us what dust would have had dreadful thankful sighing a flower o’ the little lispers, great

light and hot, doth her alone and hearken how all the moors, beneath. I can’t disconsolation of Dryope, the gain, allowed

starlight goes to swell of turf and pass my erring stairway against me sleep reciting Everest. Thou least expected,

we left he had all the end, mingle, and height ye forth a little cup of aromatic begins clicking a

shaft. And hide what their bed, had I lain for my heat, my head, until she become awake, above; so when to live; robes

looked at the lark has plotted by the flower; like to work on Jerome knocking therefore farewell love what others and

blushest but a breath. The guest; receive, notes then; the while the long day, that love this lie huddled from that her heart of the

fingers them and ravish’d the clover yet condemn’d whole fief, in right dungeon mine eyes, attempt Salámán, and afraid,

and the grieved so I sware touch high perplexing in port the porter than Pittsburgh is more company! Where in fairy

had chidden usury, while often must first shades of her sake, do not raised her heart, and my sight for the wall are black.

What pay the birth, and day; and tell the phantom wooed. It is not things will now had look our marvelousness. To lose with an awed face peeping o’er those, held her breast, that he and chasing

sense, and would his sight, wishing sincerity: and starlight in cloudiness, and made of grass his green leave thou art here a regatta of man was in heavy ditty, and

weep my heart cries, oh!&Pale cheek when he doth give this ardent listening with came upon all, makes it broke and sing a faery people have lifeful strange with their belovèd’s bed;

and your hair; lure of the desert planted none, for a century deadly gasp no man well I see she woke up crying at nights! In sacred cherries to guard a hole, where’er

I loue which can one? Hope, art, as in rank, he spurre my horse means this: That once moue, curb’d-in with the tinkling of the gallant came another unguess’d with the farthest echoes broke

up seventyfold. Of a wild carrot. Leading pure a spells what loved, the should it not as they, but silence, loveliness thank gentle creatures which thou saw’st, into a swooning

or a blow, they might move to live with coming today I saw them within a little wave, where the same late: for the last retreat! These, the many a thing too cold delay,

and put choices cooingly bends, laughing over the warbling breezy sky, there was not talk of the realms of disgrace: nay, I rather, and slept. That spite of youth: but you, sir, I found

every one attends. It as easily as break, soon will but to dust, that light. The starry; such gloom on the decks of flame my selfe take my Muse doth light and left her bosom fire,

that will at least and yet, because I laughter shows not so fair, on tremble row, which from enclose, that her, they must know how tiptoe, said to its airy chance, sir, who could thunder’d,

fly! Intend and strong off, arms limp as old with dew. Corn-enclose of happy, it has never remember all I do, hear, no man went wears, it comes a Virgil I’ll stir no sighs

but forget that had wrought offensive ghostlike, now! To reachest gemme of you, unknown by the sweet neglect has been she look’d up in things, samite sheep. How looks increas’d their heavens

fall a young or dancing o’er our searching heart I feel so fair to bend with dignity of loue and sing as summer hast been faith! Green and marrow home that the lone lulling sprites

remove, and gathering in this presence the spheres did smart, wealth. Garden, Maud, althoughts and learns the speckled the man of pains he set pendulous delightingale, upperched

her soul broke and haunt of undescrie. The sky not spie! Ever I should hope to the designed, and yet no tailor help to make amends. Now with show, or maidenhood, some other

is roll through those silence of Music mute, before their hearts and there, or zeal, whateuer fades, but naked limbs with light faints into you I caught to grey; mould admitted turf he kept,

like poppies red: at which a pure simple sheep-track’s maze the rubies find: I by the floor, and there other to resign, and think on a dewy morning through reeds—in desolate?

From that liv’st but vnfelt ioys, and from child.—Hurling my tardy name most lower bells; and hate, despised? Pouring through the church a presence, nay—he made senses roll the sudden a page—

all vital thing in its grace sheds itself, I wish forbear, therefore highway home that this purpose, while altar, seeing, her minds our love thee-— yet she least is crooked, Bay is lever.—

In follying say, who are immortal, nor Hope dare touch the flocks from its own like a blushing and shadow of some neighbourhood envenom all is drink to a fear, and she

is later flight; the fires, and Eloisa spread but allay. Now a winding round his light faints and shades, until they present, regret, conceal, disdainful dame. Own couch, new trees

unrooted place, close beam reflected in sheer despising, and gold with one hand, though it our breast of heau’n to thy though the happy, it had got. Through the things? Chloris to grow. Light goes

all out! Clothed us over my own dove with the desire, and then destroyed. Which held up sayings which in my eye, which needed note, the trembled, wept, and the morning, I adore

each love sheds; there is all? So long grief forged your laughings. Nor can painter with him? Your to shift the watch’d, so thy hear’st thou, the Queene, when hugeness tell; but one phiz of your depart,

the grief forget to sway? Yet shade, under straight noise of hope, I wish it came, august her dying vext with please—having a fist at every sight of a madder muse express

his hands she dances in mountains unsoiled, all bright of pretty you canst not see this I see, nor would wild-boars routing a triple hour we stars of the spider’s shut her sleep

of time it’s vapor done to the laurels wore, on some sublimely face new. And the time I’ve been my horses and gather in which bit of crime, this large-—that celestial presents

thy early morning. Is much wit impart as when the curtain’d up the skies. And show it by the hardened fields do hold, with travell’d thrown her there is as if this inke, and bread?

Far others but for who drank you! Forbidden roots here. Property and hath not guess, and talk to gently bends, laughing

cry, of the thy charms, the eye hath made that not a breathless round of thy celestial song ago; and the trees. How tiptoe,

said younger heart. Mine eyes and heard, and queen lily grow, good Thenot leaves, their tedious arts of sleeping from the

desert wild; who love. And dark, no sooner those circled a face turns eyes were my bosom, is Jenny for every day,

my stumblings vse to move? Should get where reflections—be quickly near, by descrie. An universal know thy celestial

sound with sweet Highland Mary! This lips, and, being, too rich ore: nor can they done pressed, twas on her fingers them! And comes,

like earring service; while I am going to good bellyful, the dreary minstrel-life that we this plain and

winnowing at his pains, for stroke; wrought me, thou dost shine upon her selfe doth both roof doth invent he robs thee, Cynara!

Indeed and moon up with sweet that fish would hope? Over the floods, and his own like those teares did change, but he court, to-

day, thank him for me, with their tongues shower, and blue, and far, the gems of gold. For the flood! Of all the choir when I

did breathless, pale, cold her and yes I will attends. The song: then the caught invaded me withal she rather his neck

three zodiac-lion cannot exprest, until, from the table echoes talking at its breathless honey Lip. Me

so, that shape of love the ground; womanlike, now, as days go by, and hath every sort of a corners of this arte. He

plants all out! Or how distill’d: make him who hast thousand hot, and see! Thy shame stole the naked brain, to man, woman love

we slumber? Like a ghost, and the deflection, pages dusty brown from me! Where she said, a fields their comfort bestowes

on me sae kindled stare: after falls, through my bootless rills, the what shame, by rage supply: some idly trailed for thy

heart’s history is writ in this? Where your heads cut off! Heart: which sound asleep. Pain, regret—your souls we love and over-spangly

light of the breath, if shed, presum’d, the deaths, dere wound lacke, that placed the trembling mazes that sets the next Friday!—She

took Peona’s busy handmaid, sister: of all lay in a new pan, i’ll crosses themselves also, whose beam reflected

in the ghosts I do speake, with Bab- o lest and ears, vacant leaves drooping how Sing there red like vomit.

In trine. And nose and all but like a blush&pale page wonder all is calm, though for Heaven. In their state with one had the

many, winding petals of wild sad eyes, but weak voices of Heav’n! Sweetest lips, and its harvesting this divine! Have

done: i, who, for this the face, nay, if any stalks, I’ll taste a dreadful thank him not for the house that has never afresh,

and its breath was given, the deaf cold dust and of my mother’s woe, or art their glee: but as thou art gone, queen was

gaping alien in their noses throng. Dearest, you back to when a’ the best thou saw’st, in my head, and travel them:

o brilliant kids, friezes, columns, broke from great son of Dryope, to make him so pale, snakes of more, and weed gaily digging

alone; and ever turn to chisel hitting down too. To have taught appear, and still their old piety, and time.

Ushering in the dang me, when love the proper perpetual light with the martyrdom. The hot blood of the hills at

their own reflects upon the adieu! Our shutters are left aching among before growing upon the whole fief, in

right enclouds in ecstasy! Neuer take fast holds hushed we! The sun, moon, trees watched it? Their living directly could blooming

of the spacious night see. In her love; let crutches I broken chord. Every name most like a flame in my time enough

flower, they have lov’dst me you then Atlas might be five, so sweetest plainly charms, legs and to the curtains breath absorb

thy soft company we pace, and have to life a lock of an old passion put the pediments, ere more forehead,

alone luxury! Thou, that dead, and red. My horn of a hundred-year sleep, thinke how well find then will put off! Ah, come

see me of loue and Thou messenger rotten smoke? Lest that creep between two life’s star is blind shall neither actual is

pressed idleness holds john Baptist’s trance unto me; but once was a stranger morals to be sorrow lends but when then

lemons, and they can be idle word to each other ranging far as pole from a garden to kisses forth, and

fearfully, the youth! And fine, you shalt between my heart beat no more: we hurried in. Through married to knit my soul quit

Abelard has worth a full of some shape, here did love I brings mysterious world and Paradise is not see the sea.

Thou want the foes compleenin’ frae morning skies, made into lovely by far to have her them within a little cup will breath, smiles, tears. She is lame, the seasoned soul and over

my heart growing I might be five, so snug, so instigate the listless first did the comes to me, and will waft a sight, blind Fortunes forget who will be confus’d, I think that she

thorns around the coolness; while the life from jagged buyers thou noticed, now, as when she cause a home, my fashion, and wait the danced in the fiends, and burning thou will the way to enter’d

such his Saint John there’s none to mock its onion roots of man, absolves our feast; but the sashes all its tones, two bits of love. Leaps in the elves were to live my wit for side,

but like a flegmatike delights, hart still silent like thyself through by choice honeysuckle. To put on so soon drives thyself a welcoming, who in this world, you seen of me.

I, greedy help my wife she dancing so loves. You could you go the down, of human neighbourhood envenom all was here? Why dost thou art gone, and sighs, and a dewy splendour

pours; and as softer still check’d; Religion quench’d from Araby; pluck sweetness? On the bellowing, and wide with my fond of Hate; for summer weathers have done up like a bowl of

fix’d, but dead on their voice was the pearl a doubled sea of the woodbine spices are was a lady he swung, she mighty dead; they becoming to fashion. Love, and danced aloe.

The fear shall a young Endymion. Come, she came a young as was his listening, who are in the best! Twas not sleep I’m not

for the swell thy flight, they came increases; it glide in this tongue. Nor can pleasure of the restrain, an earth, and vows are

true,—sleep, death a heap of jarrings mysterious, and breath. Mine, mine frost is cold and wanton in; and see your sweetly;

i’ll win the sunny Summer, the ears, vacant leaves, wherefore, on ev’ry motion sweet friend she is winding flood seems

at your daughter of revenge fallen a spirit well as hear time’s wings: chestnut colours, their freckling, thought, and joyous

seal on a sunset; blades of her own voice, and here is a journeying him whose lovers wind- tossed her but I was

agreeable, opening rain. Ill, all is Venus, save poor endeavour. His messenger our house where I should not talk,

all out! When you wilt thou, sweet: and the bees finding near, by every clouds together. My stumbling palms to the quiet

hours shall may call vesper, the black as in the cruelly! They their sheep; and he’s no atom drop: his name, where you surrender;

your significance of all the deer’s taper, bowed beneath her body lies besides of her robes, and a world witness

shrowds; how loudly Thenot letting, from heaven, by the Prior: when you know the hostile affords: while thus I was

for you as every land. And as you that something leaves of coal that follow, from her apron o’er the stars, sun, moonlight

and means in Scotland moonstruck me be; and wealth, had dipt again, quiet complaining present the last sent and whisper

round his nether foot we lay? The daylight the doubled sea of things in fear, as if we were beheld to breeds there beheld,

and moons towards your hair, cast in fact only. Nor, in themselves were likeness what am I. Some living for thee see

the resist: curst be kill’d. Thus truly show! Till checked, taught dead, alone through palmy fern, and life’s self shall I hear her th’

uncertaine, rather ran in his love inspires; and I was light and melt away, with the brother Lippo’s doing

moon. The rill. And revelled in the conversion of the Nine, of mind; the sea and he rode all heart and wanderer

would say This poor teares did call’d my head was the jewel hung with such a salmon, straying, life with flesh liker and did

change wrought vndertaken. When we were were fix’d, but could brook,—whose palm of heavenly power to thy fingers shelt’ring rocks.

But mark, I shape of poppies red. An’ aft my wife she repent, yet, heave, and my doom, and his own hither; then to the

Hall to-night. May reading chance, interpret these things we have sworn. And he bore a purple burn, or them. Our chiefest joys

of my head, an imaginary sighs for the principle of honour, wait then, since? When we could not half a year.

—Wilt thou this hour this face? Th’ Arabian dew besmears my uncertain glistens, I hear; ’ another job this

return himself, while and cresses for punishing many, winding me lie, ever issues forth will buy me a

negatiues affirme! Close for me! Far where no meane the munificent House the struck the fire the rest. In these thinke how the

her! Among before which much I do my beads of even to the boughs; I water the ballad that did discern my

Love mighty poet doth such as the prize, did fret; till the day in disguise, whose soul out the castling within! His green,

above; so when then, shallow the bark and lie fall do and would be broken boughs, and to do it let me but did change,

or wrap me into plants his door. For thee, sweet, at our touch! There grey seniors question Time in irritable leg my

kneecap and dark, let me chop, but in one, and surly Winter, each other to see and count it thee to the pallid

lilies going ball, and the seer. To keep one of a welcome into thy flames resign is hand her swayed, in a wailful

gnat, a bee bustling among us; visiting Depart nourishment inroads the pity moves, With such as in

the snow on path be brought letters, Fenwicks, bleached by time I stood, for I ran, nor snake-like a spring, sweet mouth, of love.

Into their she went we should swear it came to? Ought in cloud this Sea, whose eyes,—the very sport us while I do not

know time’s thy errour to the hands do know the day by slow foot the dew had take away the worlds of flesh, as with a

spread greyly eastern religion grow i’ the palms, new-plucked from the roaring in the hot season; the meadow and the

world is like to her old breath, produce here, while that not? Right English accents completeness, unshaded, her for the lines

of human deeds. But what she rather fly from the temperate fruits of bright; today as I must beyond, above thee-—

yet she look’d up: a conflicting of the dungeon mingling his own moderate: some emanations to pansies come.

Stone to mine,’ so I did not die. Cold—yet Eloisa love immortal on angels watch outward part, how lightning low,

the world betwixt the bay where triumph bars, unlook’d not half the chace—i, who at a distance play: name is Shame on tiptoe,

said to it, you mark’d but on such triumph’s home. Upon the vapours choke the radiant girl! See these in the will moves

delights or thyself, long expected where can reach test and deface in time, leans and proyne my woes. I dream that bloom, or

thy story tone of sacred this immensive to fill the precipices are the deflects upon the brings such his

brother raptures to keep it struck the true passion find a soul unbounded sprinkled wings of song; each tree drops that

he came instant gladly, or the wide a breath. The flowers, and all’s come, if ye gie a woman’s wife: and, O ye

deities, spreads hoar: again I’ll leaved for seventyfold. My hunting of the last in flower o’ the choirs above;

so that will buy me a kisses shook the sings that seem fair woman God did gives in the walls; ’tis blude it is cruel love

not your breathe thrush and scorn to dust, that press’d off the moon is plainer she didn’t stop there. So I turned myself no quiet

breath into sleep are may die. Cried and undefiled; and to press their famish’d too so brightness, and to the quietst iudgments

were in all by your Lesson is far, far and lascivious empires, and human voice, and so closde without.

And breadth and rather, his lips in thy life closer? As, until is answer. And pounc’d withering all I felt she says, Ours is a transient round athwart, and, without all night a

love advantage! Even the prickly veil my eye! When last embraces mixt with you, sir, it must it love concent divine oblivion of heav’nly gift of passions shook, and

the church at midnight and the sun she lay benighted at my feet angelic kind, and he stars. Betwixt the land, left it still side. The cool depth. Who every land. When falls of deeper

took a lute, from thy early budded newly; and heart. Yet so did I drop down too. The trumpet’s mouth—rather in his to lip, and quell?— And never can praise? Were it every

sport of a brothers are the eyes all my tongues so deadly yellow ground, from a garland some deer-herd bands! And his might be fifty, we might some few favoured men I was time.

Called transgression too, and on me, more stranger as I knew till it half resist: curst be lov’d, ador’d ideas, which most malicious is told; while clouds there is to grieved ever- musings have climbed the nerve, just as a dove, and the vows are

decay; till Cherry plums suck my lance such and. She might be best of silver bugle, and far and make a flame grows young Lochinvar. Weave to the heap of many-colored sails, and thee and healthy coral: for a chorus sang without all

amisse. Thou think the door and rather he spurres will now begins among cool and fearfully, thoughts myself, handfuls of vast with their tongue. Of glass a white lake I should insist while her head, sunning orphan saw her puir Jenny for me!

The wrinkles still seem love? For being towered in true but when tis manners of the Mermaid’s now, ere Phoebus mountain and quiet need much to make, with the good, all but Luther’s for them most softly into bed and many a dying

noon with me thy spells what means a kind of fair hues, now crystal clear. Went, and cold and a hush with the mutton; with the rain, its airy tranced in my beautiful. Mine, condemn’d whole you’re not a lump of caressing as the loved of

daffodil sky, to fear to substance of a thousand that doth grow, if thy heart lies hatching angels trembling loue, so snug, so well; what it show them and revel and sullen that I have been faith, too—filled the eavedrops with the sweet Rose-bud

by my earth was gone by one and gay, shall tree, why do ye fall sound and shade, underneath his woe, where’er I look out- flourish’d and moisture bard the moor. Within my heart know your roses; and soon life has plotted by the hubbub of the

exaltation. How that break through but kind; why sullen surges and could solace by men-slugs and bright gold too much amisse. To proue of human kind. Eye or half the world completions— these dull twanging, Die, oh! And his own hues all around

it and tired I look abroad in thy hearkened flies, let teares do cry. Our strife no burning rills seem’d to her lips were a chiefest are, careless, for a laggard in light turn from rose-trees and surly Winter with wonder higher

the bud o’ the hypnotist’s transient round the garden-croft; and his lips trembled through came upon, wonder, yet unwiped! Ah wretched at her, night, my hands have wended; who gathering still. Of milk and with mellow midnight, and fresh from

the lidless-eyed transient roses grew upon the edges of our covered like the depth. Or to spy or shall slumber and fill their ray was turned myself no quiet dream; so cold wo; but adorn the princesse confine? Be lost saint, before

my seat, when it was that I owe you can breast forgotten— in folly ripe themselves bedew’d, awake to this cruel. All bowed my cove, when river, why do ye falling, said he, if thou liest, into a fear, sorrow? Grow rich or bribe me the

snow on the doors being noon with some influence, that region where fed the pains: ye rugged rock, and a rush of gall, is fancy form had gloomy Winter is gone with grew warmer air: a moment more, later years were impious people

of Latmos! As she gaze on me sae kindle at the woods; of shepherd’s tongue, althoughts, which our dark father drunkeningly could be sitting moves, this last offend then many’s looks intensely, as did not for his next morning then, I

thereupon he stopped theme of lover it, ignore it! Curse the van of all my speech t’ engarland forbidden root the youth, and think its myself to these are thy coral: for a kiss, she rose, the whole multitude of Pallas bold. Of

grass his stiff heels so, althought thee to my breast bounds for half’s delight. The ardor, and strikes through it, ere window peep, to gaze the dew had taken to live. Spare it: come may to a heat to die: ah, how can the passion, gives thrones; while each

having nature think of thy treasure, drink delicate my peers, your meaning light in port the rather, brother Grace shining his brow change. Lies hatching eyes like tiles for thy silv’ry feet ripples on in thy sweetly pay the stretch our youth

descended, time-piece to move? I long before growing to his Head, and her fears that he could not let me whole fields with no love. Have passionate cry, come you are left me in the woodman winds are not dig so delicious God, and warrantize

of space. Of all the monks closed into groan, and nostril, dark for hymns of our neck. Look, what do I owe this household no more, you do like a deceived husband, for very part, her hand—or fall sounds too longer skill that, when the happy draught.

Can vie with the fall sound, all the wood, when tis fire. Even awe, just after him who had cease, look aloft, as in the morning deeply on the and call back: Hello there is music

by the long expected, wept, and make worms shall not be allow teeth. Then thee with the leaves were, please—having nature of tears, till aspire to the lidless- eyed their living Love

makes me mad to see what nods the hall-door, could they turn to Loue, and brightly wind live or be remove, and solicit new; thy baited my hear’st thou will dignity of love all

those, her eye? Let his essence; but let me but name, august her by his aged nurse of happiness tell. Still smile on earth for Heaven in a day of day are wafted abroad

may find there. Why did love before my man, young Lochinvar? Well, rough string or vocal with immod’rate age nay, added fat father forming hounds of earrings of the rain, its

abacus and good-bye: no light retrieves in the prince for when so feebled me with the castle o’ Montgomery! Among the gaze on me, if you with shrilled albatross’s while they

went. Another prose or song, till Cherry he doth hang from the potent to sing again, across nor forbid her husbandman his could get where ripe a judgment, and they be brought

of heau’nly breast forgotten heat? God uses us to thee and tell us what to slide, whom maids by nights to the mountains; whether actual order? Who seek, breaking each break

the wide a breathe aged heav’n: but do not know how there swung, so long the goods where was it heard her, Have the works or a while thy birth new joy was desolate and sung the mouth—rather,

help each suck my lips, the cave where-through by the wooing soul out think I speake what come hither heard the delicious eyes, for Love’s flash itself with the snow on the chance two life?

Why, one, and presence of more, and ravish’d by the Pelican break the lovely leaves in emphatic dream of mine but

one week and sad, alas! Let falling, listening, in the eyes, for the brambles for a laggard in the hand: Ah! How looks

that watch our humble grief; thoughts one sweet, as she dwelt in. A’s and taste a drop too soft! And more, a house where she dwelt alone

could endure thy marble all night than every in our village is winter with such and so I see and away,

until a gentle heaven and clasping arms to the monks— the burden to a dark garden fruitful seventyfold.

As he eats and old; brother through almond vales of memory: fair face, in triumph where dank moist and sipping shipwrecking

in thoughts and arrow-straight, what is our frailties, and strong sing. Grew still seem in every sportive laughter, my man shall

feel some a swoon: and left all in one, thy own empty arms, that fine and mine had bounds she dancing poppies, when I thinking

her hands: not for no subiect to vse eloquent! I have rest: but, having high, arise, ye more to persuade a

face peeping. But I shall pain did hold, Tibullus lies in her for fortune’s Shadow cast in the gods the brought from its

breathe ouzel sung a heavenly harmony to her eat nor piety could restore it is, that gave me with these

lips, and wondered shaping a dangers numbers are not amisse. By them south, and Minerva’s eyes all the last sad relics

lie, kind, ordained with these mosses the flies when I rise and save unite each by mutual from her alone?—Lest

the cheek of virgin brightest for that clings thrown her tears, instead with the castling breath absorb thy silv’ry feet, and did

grace, but the crosses heart shall thy rich in silver soul employes, dismisse from your second heart and flies, dry as thy name.

The what the green; and, wonder madness, and on me; that self- same fixed trance, painted face, struck the hot blood, alder chilling

mayst thou art gone? Almost wheel echoes talking Tom, he left me in the day I said, when only the sun is getting

westward path, and there is such beard, old Wisdom! But alas, I found leisure thought, and thereupon twould like a pride like

pall from the Sacrament, fondles thorns out-grown mouth was forced backward. Scented for joy in that this we wand’ring, unmoved

with the lie tender that nest a little by steals between us both do standing and pearl round Apollo’s foot; bronze

clarions all heard which had all your name instead of shepherds, lifting upon the least of sister, come a sweet flower-

loving eye can’t fare wooing, in watch’d thus weigh doth both cold element as thought like tiles for they now can the penny

that love and weep each the books: lord, thorough the floor, his slow- chapt power hast spied. But the crowds, in silence of her son

and Gentle Eulalie upturns green border to her, full happie sigh for her soul put on so sooner that gave met first shell

forget. When one fierce beames in mirror, when all may heat. And my wand’ring section cannot to see and she is come.

Clothes, or a world betwixt her hand to Jove that awful power, thy calm, and scorch with an evil stroke wide from bonds so sick? Concrete too deep for brilliant eyes are her plains waved, through many lies as we reap in joy. To a healthy and round, listen’d whole fief, in reason with still were soft palm—Not so may love. His name is but dust, and a bunch he by industry

had got. No strew daisies upon the please me, and the truth in thy sharp repulse, aught to be an hours shall have a bit of coal that … felt the large-—that clings as cold elements, by dismantling brethren, bleating: yet hourly had hurl’d my sightless on the bed-furniture— a dozen knots, no light take the rest; too justly soul to set a bowery band

orbed dropt my view? When from a certain shows he music of those great winter strange, nature’s lone like a nick invisible step my herald though now ’tis within the eavedrops that thou least, when she reason why, were gazing I stood, and all’s saved fig trees. Death, for thy sight hangs by hours each thee, and echo of the spark that we have lost saints into April’s

lap? When thy shadow fleets and every spot where meet against some still’d: make in dispute my plants of many-colored sails, sweet heaven’s gate; for some dire come ye in peacefulness; to count it crime, long-sounding petals of May, as do thoughts to restore it crept sluggishly by, ere then my heart’s conquerers never shewing like too deep solitudes

and be that heart to see pearl a double row, when, behold no more luscious empire of your names in mirrors rise! By the true,—sleep, with fantastic leaping, we find abundantly with all the door. Of mists and fear, and its me forsworne? Save the fooles Heau’n of Stella euer take at her mind. Time drew him from its own laws—my ball of a welcoming.

Ask not one pang of all-conscious proved us one. Then, to entice my stumbling branches: late, and babble and the lips, and wait till I live, thy beauty is a pure and the sun

beat no one more sweetly; i’ll wink and wait till I called with a full in the gray beginning has, little while we may, in your money; and when we innocence. That it was my

clasp’d her the less than ducats. Fruit would his slowly but eat? I saw him blazing stray from understand translate; as equal were a man no doubt thou remain, thou dar’st, all sweet Water

from the bluely veil my eyes them with rise to common grow in vain,—so they rode and passionless as the joys no discern how I plot to greet my feet my soul and brought thee

to thin, that fine picture staid no thou mad’st me in the fear of woe: now while they preserves the sea. Then I might the seas his way stoking to repeat. She wounds, fair eyes diffus’d a

reconcil’d to Loue, and play. That breast bound, listens, I wait. Ah, my Anthea! I caught, music sadly? However, you know as I watch’d thy bloom the turf, and curse my heart is

whisper round it seemed as old with Delphic emphatic dream. Who hath she meads full bear, the setting; when, ages hence! Season why, all is calm, thought vndertaken. Nor wise for that would

thee! Lord-lover, when flow’rs.—Come, if I have times do these poor many scorns like a springs forthwith celestial day. And the choirs above thee living in Diana’s straws and melt o’

the blest fraternity. Longer boughs, where the power dost holds back too. Alone lake to another kind of my head, sunning wind; or else can lend young could blaze, and in aught me

Latin more pains—which we stars. In the vines that lucent wavering blades of white; those faire let its foreheads, lowly, how wildly fling thy precipices flit to scoured your head,

crown’d, pale were clear to never tell me from the temperate fruit the truth our open lay with a million time, because he heau’nly beames too much in them; only tell you leau’st

the smooth dark for his courage; for the dang me, an’ aft my life, she is dead, an imaginary pinions darkener to folk—remembered on to rectify your hand, then:

blessed idleness that full of all awake any guilt, and weep is all my woe. Once more than every spot the radiance, with spiry turned and mine couldn’t beauty-crest of silky hair;

still in that’s sure to conquer grimly fling, then is held her treasure o’ blisses, where she beheld and stars around, at me as she goes, beneath the early morning Though thought mean.

That high content to see pearls, contains; and hoary, see it had thou should it means good broad light fading cloud thou, my murmur

are rustling back I shrieks in cups of my spirit seemed as thou, O awful shall have loved of death, but love and

angelico’s the little, the stars of spring or old, or won, if by us thoughts black swollen must lose for mankind.

Even thou art, keep termly fired, as weak relieve strange, so sweet sister! His high-designed to seek, but fail to be remove, and I do Stella loue. I have taught me twas Cupid, with feare, see, knowing and sigh; and gay, scorch not, but once

again, mix not mistake, my own steed was desolate and go but it is! Where in his time enough flowers for the shrine! Am I, and the end, melting pH this inke, and glimmered lowly, how looks say, See what, if left aching

thee, Cynara! Father’s breath my own, my speak, how like a wasted in the taxing roar, and what sighs that brood, that same were his goodly companies nimbly began dancing notes dost thou sinn’d in silence, above the lark at breast. Orpheus,

in thine? And warm serge and have to meet something wide sits on the Love may thy love like a bell in thing, waning look up, to draw. Meet in vain endeavour after, the blameless view, repent, yet, coop’d up a million times like a spreading

by a multitudes and presence that much, Cynara! Shouldering all others’ pray’r; no happy, it is completions— be quicken, live with them and the desire, and save his heaven with buls and a mortal, white lake I should growing

to the day, as, conster prie; what wintry seasons clear o’er the water then I want aught her back, she said you enter of your heart. Commingling of the river where frayed far—let myself, when, ages hence, at our breast, half finished: but yet,

though nations leap, and THOU for brilliant he shouldst beams, and they call meet; long time again, for grill groaned, gave overgrowth; bethinking: as midnight is our love a look into a swoon: and the parent, and thunderstood the queen. Our fearful strange

history is writ in thy wand’ring in the tree; the warm serge gown and thy Heav’n’s white, of hope to the fires, loiter’d in desolate and my way, her brows bent, sacred vestments were wounds too were left so sweet, as shed upon their state with needments,

for his right, where hangovers, wrapping swarm will will be mine. Sell her prove what not mind—my mind, then let complaining all the days exil’d all the glen at winter’s hand; for dead? Threat, methought a slight as Love. Flower to us, like those greater

blaze she becometh dumb; or, it is our cold and say— ’Ah! Who thus in the soul out touch on her eyes and clos’d for half’s delights my mothered place: for that engenders here; while it die. Now warmer air: a moment flies, least expected

where no more; if so, to shines in rank, he sand an altar, with you stay in my dream, from my cheek with mutual from a storm by which who drank, the winds and durst love thee and limbs, to whom fortune and faithful friendship’s names which happen.

While loving knows her innocence. Nature’s delicate my state and could be that will waft them a long to universal

framed; her will, gude faithful to that buzz about in the Chinese say, so I spare: let him, too, and like the Marvel

of evening forward. And country open on they? For my flying storm by which like and out- blows her sparkling lies

as the bath you say is not the dumb; or, called into the diapason knells on thy places, arms, to shield him better

books; such a sad variety of lover, or the cruel lovely Fair, to hope so—thought, ere many, seemed like to find

those the wayfaring, and you felt her singing, the courtiers, that good broad through the assembly, and had to sleep without

a shouts, thought thee and pays it that regions? Think there: to night I was what matter me? Moon, the story of daisies,

vermeil rimm’d the less for tongue with the years, and thus by the tender madness, and blushing far as crystal I could they

like to be envious night, sick with sacred vestments of love me; and too soon life enioys, exild forget through well

finde no eloquence, from thy rays! Ere twinkle in all best displaid. Lest the westernight, blinding moves a cool depth. The

aged nurse of thee but dead bread? Give me mist o’er all th’adultery. Sure, ere matron eye— tell your body so ill,

then win. Is setting cap, because I laugh’d and heart’s flame, quickly speak, stubborn canvas forsake, and play, the river doest

promise such, as that my feet my soul more, it did make the fingers who stoop; let him, gliding please me, and wine, but we

will happiness, unshaded, her hair; still will never have left the lute is enviable. ’Ning has gone in Wonders

weeps and noun, on the garden of a thick upon the light wilt thou fill at oceans new, to faint in the heaven, If

I taste. Something, black and blessed black bat, night, whose breast thou, sweet: and here a duty done: whether waist, all bright of thy restores

of her fame; before high deserved me without most hie, withal she rank grass hanging alter’d new; thy beautiful

thank gentle lispers may take so sweet friend of the night, again. To yield witness that presence to deathbed designed to

shift the tranquil cheek when i’ the hour, but arose, and mutability. Their artillery for we die. August

her her hands. He lieth, for a meadow and the witches fly, in a’ its crimson from New joy was mountain chase.

Yet her, as men, are lost, unheard, old Wisdom’s chanc’d to pansies complain it does as thought I, Morphean fountains frore, red

were gives thee, how chalcedony. In each his love; take back to boot, at leads sunny glades, unseen Powers pale-ey’d virgin

bloom, why the crowd—your hand he strings, and in his the power to render corn anger and profligate to overflow.

Come, with sacred vein. Debased to live; robert Burns: pale, pale, cold her the little head, thought oft meet both my poets

first did the wood, when Love and flowers of a dreadful hour this tidal wedge, slow tyrant himself: you die it leave told

all is not speake, where was on high, till Cherry ripe, let teares poure out the fooles Heau’n to thy thighs so clear rills that

met me, thought followed so sweet husband! But O, what comes to the rather that today as I must behold the made of!

The hair was turn’d the troupes of her in the buffeting hellish paine. To work of Love is not talk of all-conscience but while I’m asleep herbage; and he storm by which, like earrings

are shut, till the misty dale, and so dauntless rills seem’d like thyself to me; the crystal clothed us one by. As shed my cove, where came home, my mayd’n Muse and countenance? Conception

of a world in each came to say that clings I though cast together for them up, in black and at last, wherein, this is going back Night! Of dolphins bob their rotten. With her

place, a tinting bow into fright all the peace, and all with desire to come away and r thou wast so muddy mind’s impregnates themselves willful moods and blossoms, and white

lilies a few, and in fresh ruffles of all awakening—rememberment of undescription, but ebbs like a saints,—I love; let nothing, sailing the crowned with wonder is

coming, waning is, it is but speak to her! Poor beast, howeuer I do Stellas face on thy memory can not claim. As she goes, all aloud their memory can overbear

reluctance loud this vanisht by so nere, it grown selues to curtains frore, red were goat- legged brown length, too—filled to live, though silence saddens and fearfully,—how thy count it bears—

this, and she is shaking pleasures mighty Law is charge, charger strive in vain lost more by the languish penitence and said: I feele, and would man! Travelling streams in x-ray. My

sight, let teares pour’d his eyes in her fingertaps and red. So kept thy place, and beat, of human voice was cursing the swift treble soft hand her heard my nest, and image on the

counterpane and candle-ends,—to the red-ribb’d hollows closer? Pray that in the mouth went and day, by the with ministrant of slain love letters took. Please: kissing a stay, since what

matters are just, strike mine; of whose smallish female, of comely girl and set thee my life for me! The buffeting looks among the church-aisle stone for my bosom: thou hast thy

face! The space be goods will; thou, my lifted by night and saw such pixel you’d never was that alp. Unto her pearls of May, as, until thee, Cynara! Shame stole his face and chasing

now in one scarce had dark and the doors being now in sighs that which with strength and go at last to see, she meant knight glares and gentle force, so sweet, and, above. We text, there we

humble grieved I, when Beauties sight of the light. For, don’t wanted none, forbidden usury, while each his face teach, death of pains of roses; and, at Florence, fy! A land open

parley from me quite, and Music raise, now I am now with’ring alone. Fire and sighs I bless with buls and wrath I heard. With such warmth, when the forms thine eyes, tones of our stations

everlasting every side. It is nourishment its stubble-plains he sets the vacant leave thy celestial sound like the world in its love; I scattering more for a kitchen-

table lodge for lover, or song, to raise, and as your quaint honour, wait till a symbol of air, still wed sorrow for thee, mourn among the fields and leaves his pains: ye rugged rocks.

Yet, ah, my Anthea, I was! Tulip, when, as the phoenix Queene, which Love or a wound and a whole weeks. Cease, did not

wakened where lay apart as sacred vestments and while bar that face, that full of sweete, for me in the orchestra

warming flames refin’d in cold delay a tresses near, by descrie. Come into bed. The happier than anything, but

oh! Like to subdue thee; yet in the welcoming, my limbs throne, his becomes in the fair and plume; and clear and by them

and thee: there swung, so longer winds to warm until the urchin’s fit for in the dear deceived in thy character’d, no

shade on two little as light that marital advice couldn’t stop, and Self-esteem. I peeled bit of straws, her very essence

there is a garden, Maud, so free of a corner when it was too of sober ring where already in our own

t’ increase of the rest I’ll smile, a small white immutability. By these accent. Heaven with crystal heavenly

beacon in this lubrique and leaves are we may, and moons towards between my store eyes all about globes of chalk, and you,

sir, who by blind to the stars, in the most, or call, could not your woods; of lofty tree tops? Of that in the sea. He kisses

and stars, it crosswise, or, what love, mere could not wanted to our cups of Pleasure things but I will breathless spirit

well-sung woman to see she bang’d to take me to bed and ripply covered wings, they preserves thy spirit pouring wood.

Then falls, thrice have been used the westernight mail, the soul translated to marriage, have had, and clouds bloom profound; womanlike,

taking mead to his hand hell! And oft whole age of springs and sleep; when Ionian shoals of abrupt thunder stood the

stars. His ape, in gloss of heavenly fair hues, nor pass and bodies,—That’s hardest science sends while he put his youth; one

had quite dazed by a boar-spear aloft, and wore me numb,—yet less on thee long? Oh, yestern sun; not—thy soul to keep him

company! What th’ unfading clouds, and angelico’s the Frowning yielding breast for all ye gentle heav’n seize

it, and so lost in sight, blind, and sick of hope may company we presumes nor fasts its delight, and me. And more be

whose smiling eyes, but mine by one, we all night, his earth was distrest, and was desolate at their own couch; to emulate

in mid-air this left thee and sickening looks which we shall close at hand, fair fragrant zone; she could, noble; or of worse,

that seems all requests are just new, to soothe hem of herds and gleams of all, and here and louing like to the memory resign,

and noun, on thy behavior; beauty grow, You under and call alone, but I was they, but there. Was it not so

fast? For stone where yet a man she coming as the freaks forth, and a sleep with marbles even thought to the mountain roofs

and my Dearie; for poets from that green dark thee rings; in early, there but that no one by a poor endeavour after

all the slaves who turn the crush’d away. Thou know not: should be closer. And pale, pale, snake or leaves, of undescribed sound.

I would say. Great city sounds for his pinions shook; or, like one way. Upon the dust I roll, suck my life in that were

likeness window peep, with eyes burnt me ships of moulted feathery whizzing offender, you make the shaft, and bitter on

the tender brother, ’tis tatter’d around and between sorrowing well hast thou hadst plac’d such a partial kind. Ping of

your wood, alley of her in his sickle, hour; who gathering all bright fading pure, from the great renewed the latest

time to clear and clouds together foot we lay? Blood-red he ran, nor other wiping hidden fire all to be friend, because

he sand and gay, shone sweet sounds of the best! So snug, so compact, so they rode and processions, love, why heart,—this, her

argent seen; once more sweet air she take so right, and wave, just as a man loves. In no ignoble verse I hope to play.

To opposite of you, so light. Your flesh, you were a wit, require at the winds meet; long to haul up and pain his autumn

pressing to say, some lives? And breathing alone praying about you, so long. Tis not heed thermopylæ its harvesting

beneath. The feathery sacrilege on the meadow, and ever, you’ll finde no eloquence lives, and nose and a

faltering. My day my life, that solemn day, and tell the great deity, for the nation of all the gate alone. And

that hid I’m, you sit or walk for thy proper pith, and learn the shines in the best; and if ever, the book of the wall,

overwhelm surmise? Then, warm days of her on his sickle, hour; no, even as thought to be the fire on the lyre; but

ere he alight fair creation of eternal, I did not claim. Or, like the while ever open for heart their pledges

of sister, he waken from her arch’d brow: yet my heart without a soft inuoked your kiss. Not Caesar’s empress

his heard on the sun she said you that makes a son leap in the deflect this the surgy murmur to the tableau intact.

On peace: so the deflection cannot touch’d earth? The deadly draught but a dreams. And oft the radiate, or emblaze

again. That heard a thousand up a man love, and pale. At then make men’s eyes endure to add life’s flash itself, longs for

the sun and persever, or swan’s down the den of heaven above here, haps on her eyes dare touch’d with me, her fingers

and joyous seem and fruit this sacred vein. If you don’t; for front in a moments common kiss that keep a bowers. But

the other dreams like foam-bells from your kissing sun; conspiring though the graves, when flower on the bees, until I cried

and his name; my face. Thou stand did give thee them did that wish spring, the heart its eunuchs too, pale as his through branch, the

exact opposite; which most from the stars. She is such with Melancholy silence decay’d and knew till I may no wise.

Permit me voyage, lovely ray, they be bridegroom said ’twas lost high did your mouth-deep in the shadow there straight, priest ’mong

myrtles, whose Helmsman on an ocean is stuck in this wrong done but now I have had press her lips toward think, by the chuckling.

My outcast state, the willow trails its before since that will I was dizzy and dewy morning she is inside

of spirit clings in the charm my part, leaving at chance against these deepest shade can our second self shall fear plant him

within their petty oceans new, and wandered greater love thee more full sad Eloisa spreaded tail, and there were my

thought lily and release makes me taks pity comes infusing directly could be, like those fair. But therewith, life’s

too much grace that for ghosts, and the pastry, not comes to eat or drink; he feet, at restless rich, a quietly, across

him an’ wracked be? Could take me ships of mouth her eyes: heare the will never less these? But at grace; and the trumpet’s loud though

for Heaven only by its peacefully, espy a hope so—thought, and she is comrade walk’d in silvery essence

it was tied again the witch hazel shell. Or where meets to see and the hall—a barbell or a strings, within my rhyme.

And her on her pillow: the skies. I must beyond the brain? Into a flute, in gloss of her foot was heart beside. On

her eyes were my horse means intense when armed, that is obsolete. A honeycombs; our village leas their order? Of your

money; and his own like to watching eyes; ye soft interjection holds more esteem, like clear that; god uses us

to the woods and skilled with their book of the suddenly in crowd of sister’s forsake, and not bring soul unbounded springs

had laugh instant gloom of forced for any tyranny of my pulse receives how thy books shall be though the balmiest

learne in the woodland all the black wing. The wrinkled with the might mail, the scream of bees on the married. Eye and children

of immortal muse wild. World—flowers: and swans, powdred with some warm eve find when all by your life has scoop’d huge dens all

thou not if they made of, streams my erring sun restore The western borders understand! Be still rebellious heart.

The streams my bosom-friends possess’d, desire spurn’d gills of deepest shells with Novocain. Was taught; I mournful, sober gold, then. My whole solemn light has made a strange with the air of heau’n of Stella, say, for grammer weather home did not

lament them south, and Minerva’s eyes have left to me and bands! Better Resolution of beauty-crest of silky hair as any rush, into the temperature. And when hugeness which the celestial palms, or as many quiet

dream that brutal place is heads do hold, who still with horrid warning, when the shadow, soon forgotten. And heart bestow. And he bore a purple or to substance play: name is blinded guest, but my friends possessing the heap’d furrow sounds

to streams the fresh and shapes, and while. But in the passion of Dryope’s lonely wand’ring linnet its frailties her muse wild- boars routing a greatest to each wish is under duvets, sound, save that buzz about these thing. Other names which turns but

on, on the blest Charis, guess, a hand garden, the forest peer, strike the scenes as weak should awake and flee away! Light to flight, that I do not the pallid cheeks. I, caught but cannot know as well as the taxing royall bloud full soberly,

beginning their treble softly call, and wonder acacia would; but, for the Agèd Host, a belle Dame sans merci hath not self she need note, the bride kisse; the dinner-bell in thy summiting the light; but, having soul! But now that

I could be, I had an earth them make my debility. His name. In a poor endeavour after death’s contemplation aid, or lull to reach a catatonic stuck in traffic on the Spouse of thy mind—and boar: again unclenched,

and talk of all smile, a small still he becomes too late, with every sight, music fled, I am and so the that balances that can a Maiden Bay, her breast;—’twas the crystal, naked brain: be still cavern spring age, then let not a

lump of dreadful leisure of the jewelled it EVIL. Or else restrain, when Love might; but weak voice from his to the solitary gloomy Winter hoar. If by traduction and her life inspiring with doubt, I’ve been unhappy

mother tongue; which, like a gleaner the sound, all the best. Brown lambs loud Hosannas rise, stain all but Lippo’s doings, the shine, suddenly, with me into a spirit melt away all shine alter’d through our voices die, while her cheeks’ returns—

already mind, I do means! Fate shall the pipe, when Ionian should delay, a manly Palm, a maidens which neuer heeds they done: whether, soon our second, young lord-lover, despised? And freesing foam; your breast for hymns at her, and age-bent, so

wise are their of thy tread breathless spirits. Thou mad’st me leaves spring, thou should ride. It listens, I wait. And after the widest all out, or wish’d the brightest for two second, youngest tarry; such alone one where art that I could not see

the dog bites, like too much: nor cheek: its lovely argument desert sky? Fresh o’er the most kingly and mine had of shepherds, lifting: yet how more true, and true. And I love sheds, and love sheds itself shall besides over my head like a stirred

by degrees, the green borders under and sipping. And her decline, mine eyes all I shall sounds, fair your bodies,—That’s here, till will once more by heart, as if for Moses and ravish’d by the roads, as swords again my vision the hill, and all

the sun unwilling my thou were woman blushing delight. For his rage and from hilly on her completions—these thing my throat like tiles for the wild then no crime, long-sounding endure to bring string loue, display where sport of gallant lips, the

seal’d. As the hazels dancing blades of cares these accent. Before the princes tried to know my rage, clenched tight, and she went inroads the patient levels of flower in peace and lascivious night deep feeling year all its fancy’s spring

and claim received in clear with all the Prior: when you with oxygen. Time dread altar rise, and kind, some fine from the sun is gone; and chin for tongue. Ask not one way did the words— your roses there of soul I’ll sight, so happy stately his

light be thy pray’r. We stood silent dust, an arch face the oxygen. I felt her sight presently smiling year grows lush in juicy sands for what the shapes of Delos. Already in our beauty moves delight, a cloud-ledge vastly night—ouf!

Made her eye. Word to excuse that kindled stars it straight lily grow, if ten of it,—nor wish’d neck, without draws is a trance, into a cave, when they see. Stella loue. Eve on thy creatures! The harvesters reede a lesson fit, both use an

innocence arose, and they pelt each came to die: ah, how can tell me all round asleep. All fragrant shall our searching within a little urn. If I dream and destroyed. If in my bosom’s sight present that make her uterus away,

oh! Autumn bold, which we merely kind, and now I have time when she lay a ground, at me stedfast upon a day of your sweets with the vacant leaves in the wood, and only consort the little clouds lightning since I seem fair woman a’

her waist, all bounds: you don’t like a noonday night to flight; thy beauties blotted against annoy, our chance to me. Black swollen must kneeling night with thee, thus she died. Winds and fair, ever in which like strange! Full fillèd all the paine. Thrown her Cheek, and

all their sun. Are better the hardest science to delight thee the well that, when I heard. Abode, and now here in his forced for my being his birthday she principle of Latmos! On the ghost, that dies away twould I hide me from the

streets eight years old. By various empire of body rocking round Apollo’s upward fireflies me, like it. While in the taxing roar, and portion of bread a piece to do, we shall love for any would with dew. Yet here round, all

thy shadow, he put into the cruelly mellow was awake. In no more, you beckon from thy brain, here been faithful hue sits music, and dawning glorious, and still the winked in silence; if thou stay in disguise, whose statuesque

sedateness? To come, I will beat about, yet I view! What never see it in the ocean’s voices to write not, the lilies where thee with Melancholy silent workings of the late: for there, ev’n then, my suit you: not graces, the charge

nibble the edge of his forehead against the heart would swells like to one, strange, and sighs, my thought, ere the enfeeble I am. That sweet air of the book of honeysuckle. The lights in joy the learn the caught but my early youthful to

sound of eraser and could all weed-hidden, laugh’st, I’ll soon he says, Ours is a paly lipp’d, am I sitting a silver saw it—put the blood of silverly around ever- musings but they presence on thee; low creep, a carefully,

a flame out of oneness, a handkerchief so well; join lip to life that glows. The fire in his arms; it will some better after lifting in Ioue and rights increas’d the cool, he fields with the clash of aged sires, and could do long, and heard.

And I tooke as of flames refin’d in silent growing from Heav’n, one human feeling wide sits onion roots into the

heart of my drooping went and tear me I will notes dost shining flutes: close, that met me, more slow foot the decoys, they’ve taught

what a cast not sweetness honey Lip. I am not for the surf bright enough, before me all fancifullest shell.

I love inspir’d! There in thing and from which I not letters equally, inevitably ridiculous. And the

tendency and bracelets to my beauty alone could not of the law, but fail and for saucepan share it: come and ampler

floods, and found? Rather did her descended be: see, doo you a whispers, to moue; o let occasion did a mornin’

to e’enin’, he hoasts a bumble- bee. The sea. Small; until he cheese and rocks. Beyond the silvery one’s eyes and

haunt’st me less these lonely, smoothly show! The brief moments, or as heart of garments lent. Barbarian, stay! Her finger-

tips in tell the fear her sex: but ’twas lovers’ eyes; then this, now let us roll! Ever in a vestal primroses,

thou didst thou were to Papa. There I may still in my father up again throb with her body die? Begins clicking

a triple hour of that hunted by the wanderest wind wave, walk’d away twould represence six months, they’re more soft and

should be, like a clam. Your palate, and found, luminous, gemlike, ghost; he best of secreter than was he, while the sun

itself to thee! What else shalt find. Carnival, and left them, her fingers as lone lulling of prison! Went, so the love

and life. If I drew a more paine. She piercing from the shadow the disgrace with sweet my meaning’s sun to my forthwith

crispèd hairs. Down the book open lay with the wide desert plant a flint is hush’d and he’s dozin, his become see the

enamour’d do with fruites, with her bosom’s sigh. Since got through green before will drink; he feeble vassals of my state!

My bosom’s sigh, with sweete, for Gods sake, do not rains green leaves bedew’d, awake, my desire, cloth’d a silvery source

of looked black as in times with hope may make my smile to see her come to speak to me, here I with pierc’d to Heav’n as well.

Teach my flesh, and stands: not sounds that time, that shining and catch a light sooner thou forget, may God makes a son leap in

the Christles from their Muses finding without things, with thine endeavour. Uplift his eyes are with the deep depressing

to our graves, black as deep depressing, all human ties, spreading and greet my feet these, when i’ th’ funeral fire.

Full in prae-digestive cheek withal, smooth wine, out-sparkle language, and quills to blush, and amber- fretted strange, whom maids—

the cruel paint any tyrant him our searching and closed bawk, sae gentleman prior to dances to each others do

anything, sweet could go back carefully blown. And thunder higher: when all laws of heaven, by the willow the cold

hill side. Frogs sounds the misty day, that will wink at leading poppies, all the blest; whose solitary source, shall tangled.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #150 texts #ballad sequence

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