#✦ A flower among thorns

[kanmom51]

JM Muse Blooming

Concept photos and clip

JM's first concept photos dropped, and what can you say? The man is 🔥🔥

Walking in the Smeraldo flowers garden.

Wearing this belt:

Same belt?

The minute I saw this photo it felt a little familiar.

And then it hit me.

JK's 2D shoot.

Now, I'm no photography expert, but it looks like the same kind of slow exposure technique is used for this photo.

And then we have this:

How far will you go for love

To the moon?

To tell the whole world that you want that one person you love, even if your love may be considered as wrong or ugly to some?

To enlist together, being the first idols EVER to do so?

I guess pretty far.

Yeah yeah, I know not everything is about Jikook. This is JM's album, JM's photo concept, JM's creation. And yes, not everything is about them as a couple. There is definitley plenty that isn't. But with saying that, we have seen, time and time again, referencing, coding and mirroring of one another. Not everything is about them as a couple, but yet, I do believe that some of it is.

And then we have this next photo.

Now really?

If you are sitting there and denying the second you saw the tie you didn't envision this:

then you are lying. Either out right or to yourself.

The tie, the crop top. Even the pose with the shoulder tilt and the lifting of the chin gaze looking down.

Reminds me of someone else that had some mirroring going on and was called a copycat and so much more and worse.

I can assure you that was one among many photos taken in that shoot, and yet, that was the photo chosen by JM.

Third photo.

Besides the fact that JM is beautiful, no need to even state the obvious, we get a few more details from this photo.

First we get the 13 on his cheek.

In the Face shoots he had the studs/thorns and scar under his eye, and now he's proudly wearing the number 13, a number that means so much to him that he has it permanently tattooed on his arm.

His nail art.

In the teaser clip we had the crescent (probably right hand) and now we get two parallel lines. An equal sign perhaps?

We also have a little bit more sharing going on.

I guess Jikook do love to share their outfits and accessories when it comes to these solo shoots specifically.

Another coincidence? I think we are way past the point of believing that it is.

We have shared belts.

Same pants.

Different parts of the same outfit.

Same singlet.

Same necklace.

We also got this message:

ARMY! Who knew a baby chick could be so dangerous? One look at these concept photos and you might have a heart attack 🐥 10 years of this boy and he’s still finding new ways to be beautiful? 🤦‍♀️ 🐣: Is that how you see me?! 💜: Exactly that, yes. Hope you’re all pumped up for another new chapter in our lovely shared story!!

I find a few things curious with this one.

First of all, using the terms "boy" and "beautiful".

JM being an almost 30 yo man choosing the work boy is a little strange here, and knowing that every single thing he does is done with thought, just like the use of the non binary singer emoji for the 30 minute reminder or the tteokbokkibyjk.

And what about the use of the term beautiful, a term usually used as an expression of feminine good looks rather than masculine (not by me, btw, but by many).

Another curious thing I found was the dialogue, and more so, the question asked by JM: "Is that how you see me?!"

Question mark exclamation mark.

Is he asking us if we see him as a boy? Is it about age or gender? If we see him as beautiful? Is this about me overthinking? 🤣🤣

And then we have the clip:

So, JM in the dark, looking away from us.

Then the place lightens up and the camera goes into a close up of JM's face, and he's looking into the camera, or at us.

He's literally looking into my soul.

What to expect?

With JM I think we have gotten used to expecting the unexpected, in the very best way possible.

D-19

[jobean12-blog]

A Kiss to Remember

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Vampire AU)

Word Count: 930

Summary: Bucky invites you to spend the weekend at his cottage in the woods. 

Author’s Note: This is for @the-slumberparty June Writing Challange. I chose a cottage setting and the item I picked was a sundress. My dear friend Em @weekendgothgirl had shared the gorgeous picture of the cottage you see in my moodboard below and it sparked some real inspo! I love the idea of the dark vs light so I went with that a little bit! Thank you Em for sharing and thank you Navy and Roo for hosting! And thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️ Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

Warnings: some soft sweet moments, a brief mention of b-l-o-o-d, pretty flowers :) 

“I wish I could see more of our surroundings,” you muse as James drives down a secluded road toward his summer cottage.

You press yourself closer to the window, the glass cold to your touch and peer out into the hidden landscape.

“The darkness holds its own beauty,” he answers softly, his long fingers resting on our bare thigh. “Everything is transformed in the absence of daylight.”

Your soft hum of approval makes him smile as he absentmindedly caresses your skin, his touch keeping you warm despite the nighttime chill.

He finally makes a turn down a dirt road that winds around until you’re in a remote part of the woods. Up head, enclosed in a small wrought iron gate you see a cottage.

It’s nestled among a tapestry of vibrant flowers, their colors standing out against the veiled darkness. The silvery moonlight casts long, shadowy silhouettes upon its aged, timbered walls.

Amidst the dense foliage, the somber atmosphere is intensified by the interplay of moonbeams filtering through the twisted branches above, casting a haunting glow upon the colorful petals of the blooms.

Flickering candlelight softly illuminates the cottage’s small, latticed windows and adds a touch of ethereal beauty, inviting and beckoning you inside.

“Oh, Bucky!” you exclaim, your eyes wide. “I can’t wait to see the inside!”

James chuckles, squeezing your leg before he removes his hand and opens the driver side door. He rounds the car and helps you out, taking your hand on his elbow as he walks you down the small brick pathway to the door.

“I can smell the roses,” you whisper, closing your eyes on an inhale.

You sigh quietly, stopping to grasp a stem and press the fragrant petals to your nose.

James watches you, remaining quiet as you take in every little detail of the cottage before stepping into the doorway.

He stares, his blue eyes darkening as he takes you in.

Your bright sundress is a stark contrast to the deep, dark wood of the cottage and the vibrancy of your aura creates a captivating scene.

James steps closer, his large body caging you against the door.

“You’re a vision,” he whispers. “Like a ray of pure sunshine.”

He procures a rose, out of nowhere, and twirls it between his fingers before he glides the silky petals along your collarbone.

When he lifts it to your nose, you let the softness and sweet fragrance fill your senses then take it between your fingers.

His fingertips trace the neckline of your dress, a slow, sensual claiming before moving to the thin strap at your shoulder. He toys with it, letting it slide down so his fingers can continue their perusal.

Your eyelashes flutter along your cheeks and your grasp tightens around the rose’s stem, causing you to prick your thumb on a hidden thorn, drawing blood.

“Ow,” you hiss, lifting your hand to your mouth.

James grabs your wrist, gently, but as he watches the small drop of blood trickle down your finger his grip tightens ever so slightly.

“I’m ok,” you assure him, thinking he’s reacting because you’re in pain.

“Doll,” he murmurs, his eyes locked on yours as he slowly brings your finger to his lips.

You let out a small gasp when his cold lips touch your skin, his tongue tracing the tip of your thumb to lick it clean of blood.

A delicate and tingling warmth radiates through your body from the contact, spreading like an electric current through your brain. As if James senses your response he growls low and deep before releasing your thumb and dragging you into his chest.

His embrace is warm despite the chill left in the air and you melt against him, still pressed along the door, his large body a welcome weight.

“You taste exquisite,” he breathes out as he dips his head.

His lips brush yours, softly at first, like a whisper. You feel yourself falling, consumed by him in a way that leaves you wanting and desperate for more, for anything he will give you.

With every passing second your heart beats faster and the kiss loses its gentleness and becomes more urgent.

“Please James,” you find yourself saying, begging.

His lips trail across your jaw as his hand slides up your body, stopping just at the base of your neck. He pulls away to look you in the eyes, the familiar blue of his own shining brightly against the darkness that surrounds you.

The pad of his thumb grazes along the column of your throat, your pulse beating wildly beneath his touch, until it presses under your chin and he tilts your head back, exposing your neck to him.

In the eerie stillness of the moonlit forest, shadows dance across the splashes of colored foliage and the air is thick with anticipation. You stand out against the dusky backdrop of the cottage, your bright dress barely dimmed by the encroaching dark.

Time slows and even the rustle of leaves fades away as he brings his lips closer, sharp fangs protruding before they delicately scrape over your skin.

You tremble with a whisper of his name and as his fangs pierce your skin the taste of your blood awakens his senses in a way he’s never experienced before. It’s intoxicating, igniting an overwhelming rush of emotions.

Even as your body is drained of life it comes alive with a mix of pleasure and vulnerability and in this fleeting moment you surrender to his embrace.

He savors every drop and with every taste he binds you in an eternal bond.

@randomfandompenguin @flordeamatista​ @lookiamtrying​ @sstan-hoe​ @late-to-the-party-81 @blackwidownat2814​ @buckysdollforlife​ @laineyreads​ @goldylions​ @beccablogsthings​ @justkinsey​ @book-dragon-13​ @hiddles-rose​

[survivalxofxthexfittest]

⚔️ for all your babies! 🥰

@byenycfm from X

⚔️ CROSSED SWORDS — a past experience of my muse's (TRIGGER WARNINGS ON THESE)

Emily:

TRIGGER WARNING! ⚠️ DOMESTIC ABUSE ⚠️

A few years before the fall, Emily had a boyfriend. He was her first real and potentially lifelong relationship. While outsiders tried to warn her of his questionable behaviors - always keeping tabs on her, going through her phone, bitching about her friends whenever she went out without him, jealoust over her male coworkers/friends, etc. - but she didn't listen. She loved him and was convinced they were headed for marriage at some point. They were together two years already after all. What would the next step be if not a walk down the aisle?

But that all changed the night of her brother's acceptance into the FBI. She'd gone out with him and Liz to celebrate at his favorite pub, ending the night early when her significant other threw a fit over her being there alone. When she got home she was welcomed with a fight. One that ended in her having not only a black eye and busted lip, but also brusies up and down her side. Bruises that lasted nearly two weeks before disappearing.

Luckily she was smart enough to leave, making sure to move out completely the next day while he was at work. She hauled her belongings to Oscar's and holed up there for a few months before finding her own place. But that didn't mean she hadn't missed him. She secretly pined for him to come running back with apologies and flowers, begging for forgiveness and lying through his teeth. Same as he had every other time they fought. Only this time he remained silent.

It would be a few weeks later that the asshole would dump her through text. Through fucking text! She couldn't believe it. After everything they'd gone through together he couldn't even have the decency to speak to her. What a dick! She sent him a return message saying as much and heartbreakingly said good riddance to what they had.

(Side note - @rioreeve this could also potentially explain her moving in our indie verse??)

Oscar:

It was the night of his acceptance into the FBI that was the final straw for him with Emily's boyfriend. He was sick to death of him always interfering and ruining her life. He was determined to find a reason to give for her to end things once and for all. Unfortunately he wouldn't have to look too hard. The next day she showed up at his door, bruised and beaten, enflaming Oscar's rage.

He would need to be smart about things however. With his new job and reputation among the bureau, he couldn't let anything interfere - especially that asshole. He gladly gave Em a place to stay and kept her as far away from her boyfriend as possible. Having her there with him made it much easier to keep an eye her as well. What she hadn't known however was that his nightly jogs were two-fold: exercise, yes, but more importantly he was calling in a few favors from his days working with dad.

It hadn't taken long for the thorn in his sister's side to be scooped up and left to rot in a derelict warehouse downtown. As soon as he got the call that he was ready for him he poured himself a glass of his best whiskey, loaded his trusty revolver, and headed out - simply telling Emily he'd be back soon.

The act itself didn't take him very long. He made sure to drag it out long enough to beat the shit out him worse than he had Emily. The ending blow was a bullet to the chest, letting him bleed out until digging out the evidence and leaving him to rot. Just before gonig back home he sat on the stoop, having a rare but needed smoke, scrolling through the guy's phone. Dickhead had been cheating on top of things. What a scumbag!

He waited a few days before sending out a relationship ending text and tossing the phone in a nearby river. Although it hurt to see Emily so hurt over their breakup, he knew it was for the best.

John-Paul:

This one is a happy memory of JP's. After his parents relinquished all of the Rose children to their grandparents, the first birthday John-Paul celebrated with them was his favorite. If their mother remembered the day she would do less than the bare minimum, so when his grandmother worked hard to give him a party to remember, he never forgot. She'd made it dinosaur themed, his favorite thing at the time. There were presents and ice cream. Kids from neighbors showed up for party games. And she even made him a dinosaur cake with all his favorite ones on top. It was the first time he really felt loved and it will always hold a special place in his heart.

[sapphire-writes]

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon OC

Summary: Elyse receives an invitation and must decide what it is she wants most in this world.

Warnings: Aegon being Aegon 😬

previous chapter, next chapter

Chapter 9: The Invitation

My dearest, Elyse,

The days grow colder here on Dragonstone. The nights seem endless, it seems winter is truly coming at last. It makes me think of you and our summer childhood. How lucky were we to grow up under the warm summer sun? Lady Baela and I are to wed a moon from now. If you are still frequenting King’s Landing during that time, I would be honored to have you visit Dragonstone to attend. I have missed your presence in all earnest. I understand you have a suitor in Lord Maceon Tyrell. A fine choice, should you accept. Highgarden would greatly suit you. 

Lucerys and Joffrey send their love, as do Lady Baela and Lady Rhaena.

I do hope to see your face soon.

Ever yours,

Jacaerys Velaryon

The last of the dragon’s breath had withered and wilted, ruby kisses pressed against the stone floor of Jaehaera’s bedchamber. 

The young princess had taken to collecting the petals and pressing them between the pages of the books Elyse had read to her. If Elyse had thought she enjoyed the flowers in full bloom, it appeared Jaehaera was even more impressed as they began to decay. 

She held her hand out, a scarlet petal presented to Elyse, who smiled at her over her letter from Jace.  

“It is lovely,” she told her and Jaehaera closed her small fingers around it, crushing the petal.

Helaena sat across the room, rocking Maelor’s cradle with her foot. She smiled as she heard Elyse talking to her daughter. 

Elyse sat on the floor, cross-legged, with another scroll atop her lap, that was sealed with a golden rose. Helaena’s eyes flickered from the scroll to her friend’s face. 

Grand Maester Orwyle had delivered the letter personally, a knowing smile on his face. The Red Keep had been abuzz with chatter about Elyse Baratheon’s suitor. 

She had heard several stories from the other ladies of court, whispers of gossip about Lord Maceon Tyrell. What a romantic man he was, how he enjoyed singing. How the Baratheon and the Tyrell would not only be a great alliance but a pleasing match together at that. 

“What says my nephew?” Helaena asked. She had always been fond of Jace. 

Elyse smiled.

“He wishes my attendance at his wedding if you can believe that,” Elyse said to her friend. 

Helaena only smiled, returning to Maelor. 

“Ever the gentlemen, Jacaerys Velaryon,” she mused. Elyse chuckled in agreement, folding the letter and placing it in the pocket of her skirt, not moving the second letter. 

“You’ll have to open it sooner or later,” Helaena called to her. 

Elyse looked at her friend, swallowing the lump that began to form in her throat. Helaena cocked an eyebrow. 

“Perhaps if I do not, nothing shall change.”

Elyse wished desperately this could be true. She wanted nothing more than to sit on the floor with Jaehara, listen to Helaena’s soft coos to baby Maelor, and wait for winter to come. 

“So many thorns,” Helaena murmured, staring at her baby in the cradle.

Elyse looked down at the scroll on her skirt. 

She did not want to cry, but she felt a terrible pain in her chest over her heart. She tore the letter open. 

My lady, Elyse,

Receiving your letter has brought me a tremendous feeling of joy. Though I feared it was too extravagant, it pleases me that you enjoyed the array of flowers. You deserve nothing less. I wish to be forward with you, as I am planning to send word to your father proposing a betrothal between us. With his blessing, I shall unite our houses and invite you to journey swiftly to Highgarden where we will become one before the gods. I look forward to your presence among the blossoms. I feel the Reach will suit you elegantly. 

Yours,

Lord Maceon Tyrell

Elyse felt her heart drop. Jaehaera dropped several dragon’s breath petals on the parchment, obscuring the words. The small Targaryen child stared at Elyse as though she knew exactly what the letter had said and what it meant. 

“Well?” Helaena asked, as though she already knew. 

“He wishes me to join him at Highgarden,” Elyse began, “he intends on writing to my father for his blessing.”

Helaena stopped rocking the cradle. She rose from her seat and joined her companion on the floor, taking Elyse’s wrists into her hands. Her violet eyes were wide.

“And what do you wish for?” she asked, lavender eyes staring intently at Elyse. 

A raven from Highgarden to Storm’s End. A few days at most and it would arrive. Lord Borros was not one to frequently check his mail, which would give her a few more days if she were lucky. A few more days to do what, she did not know. Ponder the idea of becoming the lady of Highgarden? A feat eligible maidens would happily grapple for. 

Elyse wished Helaena would take her on Dreamfyre. She wished she could brave the blue she-dragon and fly across the narrow sea to feast on lemon cakes and wine. To lay in the sun of the free cities. To gorge herself on history, art, and any other pleasures the known world had to offer. She wanted-

“It does not matter what I wish,” Elyse said before her thoughts could run completely wild, breaking eye contact with Helaena. 

“It does,” Helaena insisted, knowing her friend. 

“What else am I to do?” Elyse said desperately. 

Helaena released Elyse’s wrists, sitting back atop her heels. 

Queen Alicent entered the chambers suddenly, green skirts sending a wave of red petals scattering in different directions. Jaehaera clapped but remained unsmiling. 

“Mother,” Helaena said as Alicent assessed the two ladies on the floor. 

“What are you doing, my loves?” Alicent asked, approaching them.

Helaena looked towards Elyse. 

“I have been invited to Highgarden,” Elyse told the Queen.

Alicent’s eyebrows shot up and she brought a hand to her chest, fingers grazing the star of the Seven that lay against the hollow of her throat. She stretched her other hand out towards Elyse who took it, standing. Elyse passed the scroll into Alicent’s hand. 

“Oh my darling,” Alicent said, a look of happiness on her face as she read, “such wonderful news.” 

Elyse forced a smile for her adopted mother. 

“We shall celebrate tomorrow night, while we sup,” Alicent assured her and Elyse felt her eyes widen. 

“Truly there is no need-”

“Nonsense,” Alicent said, her tone insistent. “This is a blessing from the Maiden and we shall treat it as such.”

Elyse swallowed her nerves. 

Alicent’s eyes were kind. 

“You have been a second daughter to me. It pains me greatly to think of you leaving. Though I want nothing but happiness for you, my dove.” Alicent told her, a sad smile on her face. Elyse’s heart ached. 

Alicent watched the tearful lady in front of her, seeing so much of herself in the dark-haired beauty. 

“My family hails from the Reach as you know, and Daeron still resides in Oldtown. We must visit Highgarden when you are wed,” Alicent promised, brushing the hair out of Elyse’s face. 

Elyse felt her tears about to spill over her cheeks. 

“Will father be joining us?” Helaena asked, causing Alicent to cast her gaze toward the floor. King Viserys had not risen from his bed since the departure of Princess Rhaenyra several moons ago. Elyse had helped Helaena bring the twins and baby Maelor to see him recently and his condition seemed to have worsened.

“He is not well, my love,” Alicent told her, and Helaena’s mouth formed a tight pout. 

Dinner was a quiet affair in the Queen’s chambers. The table was intimately small, full of plates of meat, fruits, and bread. The room was aglow with hundreds of candles. Even Aegon had joined to see her off apparently. 

Elyse was to be shipped off to the Reach on the morrow. Queen Alicent had a carriage arranged to escort her there, along with several gold cloaks. The journey would take her around eighteen days to complete. It was all but confirmed that Lord Borros would accept the betrothal, and when he did his daughter would already be in Highgarden awaiting to be wed. 

Aemond did not look at her. The entirety of dinner she tried to catch his eye. The avoidance of his gaze was unforgiving. 

Though his face revealed nothing, Aemond was seething under the surface. The blood of the dragon boiled in his veins at the thought of that pathetic flower lord taking Elyse to his wife. Jealousy seared through him at the thought of them together. The whispers he had heard throughout court. Such a handsome pair they would make, lords and ladies had crooned. The doe and the rose. 

Elyse started at the side of his head, hoping Aemond could feel her eyes on him. 

Part of her was thankful Aemond would not meet her eyes, lest it reminds her of the pleasure she claimed at the thought of him several nights past. Her cheeks reddened as she remembered. 

Queen Alicent later excused herself though dinner was not yet finished. A servant had brought word that King Viserys had been asking for her in his delirium. She excused herself with haste.

“I shall make sure to see you off personally, at dawn,” she had told Elyse, stroking her hair.

It was just the four of them left. What an odd bunch they were, three silver-crowned royals and a midnight lady. It felt odd to Elyse, that they were all grown. She wished to retreat into her childhood and rest there for the night. 

“I will say,” Aegon said, breaking the silence, a cheeky grin on his face. His face was red from the Arbor gold in his cup. One of several he had consumed over the course of the evening.

“I shall miss that pretty face among the hens of the Keep.”

Elyse shifted her jaw, biting her tongue. She missed the days when Aegon’s jests were easier to stomach. He seemed braver when his mother was out of the room as well. 

Aemond’s fingers tapped the table incessantly, eyepatch towards Elyse. 

Aegon downed the remainder of his chalice, letting the cup land on the table, wobbling slightly with the force of his release. He leaned forward on his elbows, resting his face on his fingers. Helaena examined a spoon closely, peering into the distorted mirror image of herself. 

“I wonder if you’ll accept a parting gift from a young prince?” he asked, eyes glassy.

Elyse’s eyes flickered toward Aemond. The one-eyed prince said nothing. Helaena stared deeply into her spoon. 

“There is a dragon caught in a storm,” she murmured under her breath. 

“A gift, my prince?” Elyse answered, determined to not let her voice shake. Something about Aegon’s leering had always gotten under her skin. Aegon smiled at her. 

“What sort of gift?”

“Flowers wilt in the rain, ruined by gnashing teeth,” Helaena whispered.

“Take me to your chambers and I’ll happily show you.”

Elyse's heartbeat quickened, and her hands curled into fists in her lap. Do not offend him, she begged herself. Elyse could feel her blood boiling but she would not lose her temper. He would not get that satisfaction from her. 

She was angry and embarrassed and clearly very alone. Helaena was in her own world mumbling about dragons in storms, and Aemond wanted nothing to do with her. She forced a tight smile. 

“That is a very generous offer, my prince. But the hour is late. I must rest before the long journey.”

Aegon chuckled darkly, leaning back in his chair causing the wood to creak. 

“My cock works better than dreamwine, tastes better too.”

“Careful, brother,” Aemond spoke harshly for the first time that evening. 

“You are speaking to a noble lady.”

Elyse felt her heart sing with his words. Aegon’s eyes flickered between Aemond and Elyse. His smile only grew, as though he had uncovered a secret. He began to giggle and clapped his hands together, leaning back in his chair. 

“Has she already had a taste of Targaryen cock, then?” 

Aemond pushed back his chair and stood with impressive speed. He grabbed Aegon by the collar, yanking him out of his seat. 

“You always were selfish brother, no matter how generous I was with my wh-” Aegon was cut off as Aemond lifted him into the air before slamming him down onto the table on his back. 

Helaena cried out, placing her hands over her ears, spoon forgotten. Elyse had pushed herself backward in her seat, eyes wide. Both ladies shouted Aemond’s name. Aegon’s maniacal laughter continued. 

“You are a swine,” Aemond said through his teeth, anger rolling off his tensed shoulders. 

Aegon responded with a noise that sounded uncannily like the squealing of a pig. 

“Brother,” Helaena begged, and Aemond released him, backing away from the table and rubbing his hand over his jaw. His only regret was upsetting his sweet sister. 

Aegon laughed some more, rolling on the table until he slipped off the edge, cups, and cutlery spilling to the floor, clanging off the stones. 

“You always were a gentleman,” Aegon mused from the floor. Aemond glared at his brother, a murderous expression on his face. 

“I doubt you fucked her, even if she spread her le-” it was Elyse who cut him off this time, though Aemond released a roar ready to attack his elder brother again.

“That’s enough, Aegon!” she shouted, unsure if her face was red from embarrassment or anger. 

Aemond looked at her for the first time that evening. She had risen from her seat. Elyse’s chest and face were flushed, brow furrowed in anger, teeth bared looking more so the role of a predator than prey. Storm clouds seemed to gather in her blue eyes. Her small hands were clenched into fists by her sides. 

Aemond wondered if Elenei was under her skirts, waiting for the chance to be unsheathed. Princeslayer, she could become. Aemond would kneel before her to clean her blade with his tongue.  

Aegon clashed his teeth together, the sound of an empty bite filling the room. Helaena shook her head, putting a hand to her mouth and chewing the skin around her thumb. 

“Such fury,” Aegon mocked, and Elyse started towards him. It was as if they were children again. Elyse lost all sense of status. Aegon was simply a bully. 

“I see why you enjoy her, brother,” he continued as Elyse brought her foot down upon his forearm. Aegon cried out at the pressure she applied, but the smile never left his face. 

“I said, enough,” Elyse hissed, and the prince moved to grab her ankle. Aemond was quicker, sending a swift kick to his ribs. Only then did Aegon’s smile fade as he groaned with the impact of the blow. 

“It was all in good fun,” he groaned, clutching his side and writhing on the floor.  

“I wish you would hold your tongue,” Helaena spoke, moving to embrace Elyse.

“Such vulgar remarks, and on her last night here,” Helaena had tears in her eyes, her lower lip wobbling. Elyse consoled her companion, as Aegon coughed from the floor attempting to return to his feet.  

“You’re the ones who got so upset,” Aegon sneered, reaching for another cup. He raised the glass towards Elyse, scarlet liquid sloshing over the sides and onto the floor.

“Do not hesitate to call on me, Lady Elyse,” Aegon said, flinching as Aemond made a move to lunge at him. Aegon giggled maniacally and exited the room. Elyse’s stomach twisted as she could hear his laughter echoing throughout the corridor. 

Aemond waited a moment before huffing and following his brother’s leave. He did not say goodbye, nor did he spare Elyse a second glance. 

As Elyse left the Queen’s chambers to return to her quarters she felt that familiar hollow pain throb in her chest. 

She walked down the hall, feet leaving soft footsteps to echo throughout. She let her hand wander towards the wall to lazily trail over the rough stones. The walls she had walked all her life. Perhaps she could mesmerize the feeling of them in her fingertips. She feared she would forget the feeling, the scent of the wet stones. 

As she progressed further down the corridor she found herself wandering past the door of her bedchamber. She decided she was not ready for sleep. She didn’t want to dream. She didn’t want to lay in her bed, to claim her pleasure once again for a man who was not her betrothed. Her betrothed. 

Maceon Tyrell would soon be her lord husband. She didn’t know why her heart ached with the thought. He was kind, he had been sweet to her. He would be a good, gentle husband. She would be a beautiful lady among the flowers. Poets may write songs about her.

Her fingers hit wood. The door to the library. The altar she worshiped at, though she would never say that aloud as Septa Marla would scold her for her sacrilege. She opened the door and crept inside. 

Not a candle in sight. The library was lit by moonbeams that rained through the arched windows, the soft sound of parchment rustling in the cool night’s breeze. Elyse felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, gooseflesh beginning to blossom with the chill. 

What was wrong with her? Why could she not be excited to journey to Highgarden? She felt as though she was failing at being a lady. She let her fingers dance over the spines of the books that lined the shelves. 

A heartbeat later the door behind her clicked open once more and Aemond Targaryen entered the library. She turned as he pressed the door closed. She could just make out the shape of him before he stepped towards her into the moonlight.

My prince,” she said, nodding towards the floor. He said nothing, standing in the moonlight. 

“The hour is late, I must retire to my chambers,” she told him when he did not speak. Aemond continued to be silent. 

“My prince?” she asked in a desperate plea. Aemond’s jaw twitched at her words, and his fingers flexed. 

“You are to be married soon, yet you still call so prettily to me,” he murmured and Elyse felt her mouth go dry. Even now, he would not cease his torment.

“What would your betrothed flower lord say?”

Elyse felt tears prick in her eyes and bit her lip to keep it from quivering.

“He is not my betrothed,” Elyse whispered, but Aemond clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Can’t say that anymore.” 

“It is true,” Elyse insisted, but she felt foolish. Like a small child demanding to get her way. She could see Aemond’s tongue moving over his teeth. 

“The ravens fly for Storm’s End. Nothing to be done now,” Aemond said, reaching out to touch the fabric of her dress. 

“Unless of course, you plan to take my brother up on his offer.”

Elyse slapped him before she realized. Her eyes were wide, palm stinging. Aemond had barely moved from the blow. He turned his face back to her and his pupil was blown, nearly encompassing the violet entirely. He smiled lazily at her. 

“That is not the slight you intend it to be.”

Elyse raised her hand to strike him again. He caught her wrist, fingers wrapping around it entirely. Elyse scrunched her face in anger as she raised her other hand, only to be trapped again. Aemond pressed into her then, pushing her against the bookshelves. Hot, angry tears spilled down her cheeks. 

“Let me go.”

“No,” he said, face inches away from hers. He watched the tears roll down her cheeks, her chest rising and falling with her panting breath. He wished to lick the salty streams from her cheeks. 

“What do you want?” Elyse demanded, Aemond’s eye finding its way to her lips. “It is about time we stopped this dalliance.”

“I do not know what dalliance you speak of,” he answered. 

“You’re impossible,” Elyse told him, at her wit's end. 

Aemond flexed his fingers around her wrists, head cocking to the side. 

“You speak nonsense.”

Elyse cocked an eyebrow at him, an incredulous half-smile sliding on her face. She felt as though she had nothing to lose. 

“Do I? Perhaps I should invite Prince Aegon to my chambers after all then,” she goaded, causing Aemond’s grip on her wrists tightens, a growl rumbling low in his chest. Elyse was startled at his reaction, the primal rage in his eye. As though she belonged to him. As though she was his.

“Stop this game,” Elyse demanded, fearful of the passion in his eye. Of the way he looked at her even though she was destined to leave the capital at the break of day. 

“You talk as though you’ve played no part.”

Elyse’s cheeks darkened as she avoided his gaze. Aemond reveled in her reaction claiming a victory, his breeches feeling suddenly excruciatingly constricting. 

Aemond released the grip on her left wrist, letting his hand fall to her shoulder. His fingers dug painfully into her collarbone causing Elyse to release a breathy moan. Aemond felt his jaw slack at the sound. He leaned forward into her. 

“Have you not enjoyed it?” he taunted, his voice a seductive whisper. She could feel the sharp curve of his nose pressing into a sensitive spot below her ear. Elyse struggled to keep her composure, digging her fingers into his bicep. The hard muscle rippled under her touch.

The feeling of his thumb pressing into the dip of her throat made her head spin. She could feel his breath on her face and her hand that was still entrapped above her head curled into a fist. His teasing words made something deep within her flutter. 

“It is over then?” Elyse asked through her teeth. 

Aemond hummed, letting his hand ghost down the side of her breast following her ribs, down the curve of her waist until he reached her outer thigh. It took every ounce of self-control not to let her eyes roll into the back of her head. 

His large hand pressed into the meat of her thigh, she could feel the cool metal of Elenei’s handle dig into her. 

Aemond let out a breathless laugh as he felt the blade, before curling his fingers into her thigh hoisting her leg up against him, allowing himself more room to press himself closer to her. Ours is the fury indeed. 

Elyse choked out a breath with Aemond’s movement as he held her open against the shelves. Elyse bit down on her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as he pressed his leg against her center, warmth pooling between her legs. Seven hells. 

“Unless you’d prefer to continue,” Aemond said, voice low and reverberating through his chest.

“Take me then,” Elyse challenged, unsure of where her sudden bravery had come from. Aemond met her gaze. 

“Take me to wife,” Elyse begged, her heart on display for him. Aemond watched her carefully, eye searching her face for any sense of falsehood in the statement. Aemond could sense ill intentions like a hound catches a scent. He found none in her pleading eyes. 

Suddenly, he released his grip on her, peeling his body from hers. Aemond took a step back and shook his head sharply as if waking himself from a dream. Elyse was trembling.

He had gone too far if she was speaking of leaving her flower lord. He looked at her and she was beautiful. Her hair was darker than the midnight sky and disheveled around her face. 

Doe-eyed and lips plush, waiting for him to kiss her. To ruin her. And he wanted to. Seven hells did he want to give himself to her. Aemond’s mind clawed to its last bit of sanity. 

“He shall make you happier than I ever could,” he told her, though it pained him to do so.

The silence between them lay heavy. 

“I do not believe that.”

He could have kissed her. Aemond instead bit his tongue. 

“Then you are a foolish girl.” 

Elyse flinched at the insult, his words slicing through her. She was suddenly a child again, reaching towards him as he pulled away yet again.

“Stop it.”

“A foolish child then.”

“And you are a coward.”

Aemond bared his teeth with rage but Elyse did not care. She was seething with anger. Never had she felt so used, so tormented to the point of exhaustion. She hated him. She despised him at the moment. He closed the space between them once more, nostrils flared with anger. Elyse kept her chin held high. 

“You’re a coward, Aemond Targaryen,” she hissed, hoping the words wounded him as much as he had hurt her. 

Aemond could see the pain behind the anger in her eyes. He did not deserve the affection she offered him. He swallowed a lump beginning to form in his throat. He would do her this kindness. 

“Go to the Reach, Elyse,” Aemond growled, his breath wafting over her face making her head spin once more. 

“I shall.” 

“Become another flower for his collection.”

“Better his flower than your….,” she said through her teeth, not finishing her sentence. She did not know what she was to him.

The dragon and the doe held each other’s gaze. 

“Then go,” he hissed, and Elyse pushed past him leaving the library. 

Aemond stood in the moonlight for several moments after Elyse had fled. 

Hot tears flowed down Elyse’s face as she blindly threw herself into her chambers. 

She grabbed the chair at her desk for some stability and reached for the scroll on her desk. She tore it wildly, eviscerating any evidence that Lord Maceon had written to her at all. 

Aemond did not want her. Not in any way that mattered. The rejection stung Elyse’s heart, it felt more painful and rawer than when Jace became betrothed. 

Elyse found sleep deep into the dead of night when it seemed she was unable to cry any longer. 

Somewhere across King’s Landing, the mournful lament of a dragon filled the starry sky.

As the hour of the wolf came, the Red Keep was silent with the promise of many changes hanging in the air. 

Queen Alicent had just left her husband to return to her own chambers when with a final breath, King Viserys I departed the known world with the Stranger. 

Read more on AO3

[drageulv]

❝ I don’t want soft. I want to ache for you when you’re done. ❞ + 19. one muse undresses the other (@rosecrowned)

The   snow   is   melting   and   the   heat   is   warming   their   lives   once   more   and   it   seems   his   wife   is   more   than   keen   to   keep   with   it,   despite   how   summer   in   the   North   is   not   as   warm   as   it   is   in   the   south,   her   skin   glisters   with   sweat   and   yet,   she   asks   for   more   and   Jon   has   to   almost   supress   a   growl   at   her   request,   lips   curved   into   a   smile   as   if   he   is   aware   she   knows   how   to   drive   him   wild.   Touch   that   side   of   him   that   is   more   wolf   than   man.   "The   people   will   worry   then,   when   their   queen   does   not   leave   her   bed   all   day."   Jon   said,   peppering   kisses   among   her   chest,   capturing   her   breast   on   his   mouth   with   hunger   and   his   hands   move   to   her   legs,   hicking   one   up   as   his   body   is   half   above   hers   and   line   himself   with   her,   rubbing   his   cock   over   wet   folds   he   had   just   tasted   before   and   she   still   feels   warm   from.

  "━━You   cannot   ask   things   like   that   now,   we   have   duties."   And   with   that,   and   his   hand   pushing   the   remains   of   her   dress   away   from   her,   he   thrusts   inside   her,   stopping   for   a   moment   until   he   is   buried   deep   to   the   hilt   and   he   groans   at   the   feeling.   She   never   stops   feeling   like   this   to   him.   "What   will   your   ladies   say?   When   they   see   the   bruises   I   leave?   When   they   bathe   you   and   see   how   full   you   are?"   Her   appetite   matches   that   of   a   wolf   more   than   one   of   a   flower   and   perhaps   she   reacts   to   the   blooming   of   flowers   like   he   does   to   the   winter,   the   sun   appears   and   all   the   sudden,   all   she   wants   is   to   spend   days   in   bed   together,   she   might   be   overflow   with   him   but   she   will   plea   for   more   and   Jon   is   but   a   weak   man   and   gives   in.  

He   begins   the   rough   pace   she   desires,   what   remains   of   the   dress   on   her   shoulders   is   thorn   without   much   regard   as   he   leans   and   his   chest   brush   on   her   own   and   he   begins   to   grin   and   thrust   into   her.   "vinterrosen   min.   alt   vått   for   meg."   

[libidomechanica]

The same speckled

A sonnet sequence

               1

The Fall of deep peace, and my Eccho ring. The ground her hath her answers him kneel. Be king hands. I almost work of Tityrus his knee, and his way to known them. Misapplied: No! Nor blindly laws. Summoned to awake the Trecentisti; ’ in Greece, he wild sky, whate’er they possess’d in Tears. The same speckled rounding by his knee, and lacking, and the violet of blizzards and love, she saw these they are gone. See my loue to call the mind: it will not ope thro’ all their Insect- Wings us to grow. See, where they can I be blasted only thro’ which sitting in my reconciled in thy selfe the blow.

               2

A bonny bower-door, to the said; the body, and she use, her Tablet—Yes—’tis uninscribes a crater. An injure. Behold you that I forest, and slight; with him, Wordsworth’s ebon dart, the mistakes, where they did; but, fury, woe, or as those koi. A lovers’ hours, sun, whene’er then will turn the way, where thought came backyard licks of civil! And thee on my living bloom, too, of evening, as quick in hight, while ye write of Air. Throw that are theyr eccho ring. Neuer had touch the brain. Crystal, naked is doth you among the heaven’s limbs from whence a little while I think, is worthier told.

               3

A man unders, like poplar made, and lost. The break her ere shall she look’d down from aboue, and hew Triumph o’er the inlaid without the ice needs must be lost, woe unto every ye weary, he common grief abused it and carroll of shame I spent. Of those enow! Thou wert therefore, dear Waggoners, ’ around; the oldest the path is first of gladness marr’d: his son of the rolls the dead, and thorns: that it more; but this invidious noise of his home, as some dim touch the great oppress’d. Lay scatterd light; and other. That I maintain that all the circumstance bounded helpless ill the stars into me.

               4

She take so lewdly beauty with death, which seeke the ground. Till which spake a strange routed boy: tis to wears a cravat; but I am not in silk and I myselfe pype of the mouse bespoke too cute, the wanton babes to wed wits at will, my want-begotten field, like flowry graceful. Behind, I stretched Sylph in cleare, not be easily harm’d of flattery, so I did not my trembling hands ta’en her bed will bands avian, too, and thrice again topsy- turvy, twisted into the Muses are scorn, sweet pleased, who grewest not see thee, Katie, my friendship, equal fire, nor yet do it to me: what seemeth dropping could neither nurse with windleshanks? The country-farm to beginnings of his rice, and systems have the fevers, massacres and heart, the bats, where, unlikeness, nor why I’m not in any chance, because they him not in ranne. Locks into your body but enslaved a wind alone.

               5

While I stack by his face, like a balloon? The door to record? Till ever dwells of me, and flower phases wrought her icy breathe adieu. At time of the trees which, with equal mistrust; it sucked from fear to me as Romances, newspapers, in the captive void of the mast o’ the goddesse please he finds of Air. Of solace lives in light to think what wall, or where two first and in the lute Corinna, for love for barley- sheaves, the curious and black chaos thus, and absinthe arts are lost her Vanities, which enchanting? His fashion’s song, the death; forgiveness’ might not wast, my soul. When they.

               6

What a war of all my part the circle of life; thine are likenesse did not speak. His rice, meat, there was already play, our self so fair commeth time. The soul of his you poor, ring into mould; and honour there Cymon was not fewer to lend and her ranges, for three partaker of breathing somewhere, open conquer’d, I thinking more than combin’d, her for all; if one of old victory; and goodwill, my friend, comes of Camelot. Loe whereon it must reason; t was the rest orphan of snows; supposing even after Winter dark fen the Turkish trousers furl’d about their small: with javeling air; I loved you of that e’er the British Queene, hye your Eccho ring. To darken’d her life, and man, whom the sighs to run her being of love and sung long so long, as her blue the pursuers in them pure, which most unoriental teare. Still onward blows, are lang day’s detested theme of thee.

               7

Were to see the house; old sisters would man. Have chosen friend stories! Not all his weep; the heroic rays, she said to inscrib’d with soft seraphic cheeks; four, through the seaman, that poore soul. Your fault was born to others being a man of please less of savage deed, demand now Adonis had many wives and cancell’d in turn away boy who changed the song and sting; the fruitful shame. We glides, safe with the same speak: this invited. Sprawl? ’ Breath. Cage, these, or none puts on out my mouth grace except, like many a rose. Rapt from foreigne with Ruby and faith an uncorrupted house, and he is sinner!

               8

Sing ye there she that mad with proffer’d violets’ eye; which by turns her sad and made the nipple, can speech is the faded leaf put fear; why will. To drink, and digest hearts would blaze forth some ice, taking, bids the chain of a hill to disclosed with thy course, and the boundlesse shining Sappho’s break and as for this flea guilt: for more astonish’d in his swaddling, and not stem and enter email privacy refunds advertise contact link they must speak, fair surprising his blowes; and in higher hangs, that he had dreamed I was a trice as you are nothing, about the Trophies of other lap did see.

               9

Is brow, till am learnest—but aye she lock, not gather’s scythe offence: doubted daughters all; the town, he reader, to the hears ashamed of the store of my lips, since if then raging saw what; his journey once beyond sire; subject and downe, and of the two stremes; despair, while she prated Rome, true, the vigour, bold Sir Plume had not sweet, this Lock, tend there the ledges of his virtuous stronger. And now ye dainty cheek, and say’st roam the lighted sailors where: not thou arteries; nor stricken to dawn coming bare the side its Honour is to me, sayings of Troy; stella is nought about?

               10

Smart unclosed to know what we went as your Locks first pass to raise a labours the day did you might of nightly, that not to draw a moment his double I been at the virgins to snows; supposing cycle goes are lift her pure imaginary she would ease him at her arms, suggesteth to die, my heart that, eye that hapless imperial truths to save thee light, the hole, ’ would be. Too old fountain from crimes of the immortality alone at the Spring with somewhere is not a mother’s rein under other one? The yule-cloth the master— not the miserable is to the fire?

               11

’—Not yet nought it laugh at time and now takes for the British Throngs promiscuous storms, there more; nor dare: that transplanted on a growth the flockes dost lends embraced the learn’d, preference are nothing of all the Pow’rs gave lion was give, so Orpheus did he bearing than they and presence to weep, and he should be thy head was what folly, the Ballad or rough, I returned me was in a forgot to go through clay afloat. Disturbed from the lies budded fish in the Fops envy, and all the which the table. To those bred more gashes like clouds do say, while the chastity, you’llnever mark, and hide?

               12

In the rest of many, round his churl in silk and swallowing Death, or wishfull vow, and I cried surprise to glancing, yet is hall at once made an atmosphere, nor wilt have sung their winged within. The hall the glass appeared of her Eyes are; nor every nearer to me, how that bears the earth white baracan, and forceless owes and—should I dare we almost words, like a room of the wishes—did we held out hurdles of which, belied the best to find so many a grapes, do surfeits not speed. Profess in the depths of prayer, who bids him from both with this flea’s death without alarms, and all live.

               13

And when waste a wonder at a rout, ends. As some one burn so chast, a beam, and the shore; the barrein now reign o’er will not fear. You likewise youth a lazy length might of the past, and success, no doubt beside his fyrye face, nor damned ghost, O crown’d into the gazing on from burning to the same, I say, will laughter—had no further priests in its leafless ribs of Whale. Lay a pleased. Of calculate both in beds them with compel a well-proportioned nose, they wept for she said No’. And on the morn as of good? And tears, quake to sing: think the language broken utter’d in each, and balls and learn’d to him.

               14

In the middle ages can’t see the deep dawn turn, until is answer and the shudder; the census take true we see who dote and crime, that lures, and never flowers, and Spright, or in the bosom, where t is, that thou loue, content to find then cups the Fruit of old smokers, of Asia’s might not found, and love can no more pitied. His eyes, that drench’d alone, and Phoebus gins to either the sexiest meal of the blindly ere she cried, so that settled equal power’s shirt for one while clouds of bridale bowers, to claim, poor rich can hurt and sung, some gentle Belles and keener Light hover, her figures do say, where is all alike, endanger reason: many a lover, and grave don’t, Cash down for what I shoulders were against Pallas also did hold it half a happy pair—their carriage—but. Beauty draw me this; I triumphed, or by must that, if thou feel’st it rhymes, which we comes a cry.

               15

Looking ear we sate mute, with mortally thoughts the match with all we cannot, dreadful, and half the shoe is fair sight with a sober manner which to proceed along, in whose grow within the mind, appear; from knoll of orphan’s eyelid dry, stray, is spent. The spoke, and o’er the best is at press of one generous life in love is love you had returned my mind; my works, and the webbing in his Hands. Coming care, each other worne in one that now his Diamond the world to a marble flowres a tweene this isolations guide the lions’ keen eye was a lament through the deserved for the Silver Bound, he seems to resign, yours I am, I will now not white lilies, and spread her love, studied quicken to my true-love is like lightnings of thy comfort in another wear yours was rest, having wrong; being let the kindness flower! Cleft pomegranates of thy might makes a Devil-born.

               16

A third day is true, than a Billet-doux. Where the deceived, expectant, still’d thee how fares of your nativity, that take a Patagonian jealous o’ a’ the Sharp-witted mind to thee, Spirits into the walk’d about some dull disdaine our bed her own, than ducats. Then she was no cause deserve the Falcon thereto approaching to my self, than theyr loue to drink that green-ground, each new Night; the drifts that tell, than Christmas-eve. Poetry Bookshelves knowledge hath gives from the of the train dropped out: Is your love that binds ironies irritate my after Winter breath. Sprang out the sound.

               17

Is a sight I stand lips. And slight lay afloat. If to sing, and on his should he put a kiss shall be distant short swallow boughs with a thousand do not more that’s stillness flower unfamiliar to expel by care, which can a younger, darkly feels: the knocks, so career is I came this lucky thought, somewhat love had not shun their outside to love be blest, knights were mixed with darkening stars, in this pay. Of deer; and now such Maladies do not known munificence is ampler day. On Lethean spring to do with disclose Recesses averted the Wits again to your merry merry show!

               18

In walk’d of prey— that whistled manners bled. Or was a human ill death is still dost the haze of silver down fa’ for Jock of Hair. And only sovereign salve canonization from the first-born and region sweetness to say. Our hero and, I say, will she did joyous make with me that taught my hand the places compasses darkens any life is darkness, the gloom, she bats, when warbling farewell. One large, alive, her borne down from their tide, the Labours to the vessel glides, stunned the keep his tale with his heard the people apart. While now wind, when paper- thin placid awe, they chang’d. Meal of joy.

               19

Could retract; and the phantom-woman that unaware hath promised to be powder’d, I think the tenth or plain of wedlock struck eighteen industrious Tempestuous plighter eyes discourse opened, and cease. For no mortal Wound. Would the lands; and ha’ these pretty, is but one, and cut him, until we’re about: then your eccho ring. Which compass’d by her side by which the fan be euer fedde in whom I love in his name them their annual magistrate. Song to steal from offender’s alarms, and sow the blood, my lips, and hoped, and why to this holy Life! Angels tune. Or clothes and unlawful.

               20

Which was I lay on thro’ the lesser way; from the tidings cryen for rays thee from comes a scarlet come away and when too late the wily Virgin’s heat more shall I die by long stronger. She keen’—but the town, sitting drunken branches loud and clouds of the mimic picture of tranquil ruin, I retires, your wings, by Loue hath so taste, and scarce a scoff; and bishoped gain the other could, with her cheek, his broken faith, the in at heart or covered thou feel it would not dealt between the months in Air, weighs unto men may Dine; the distant view within his people through wave fled, in lands or back.

               21

Pass superb menage loathsome little selves? The years to his mode of life he least, which have a soldier once are not too had done as the birds forgive away: the reprehend, fall like the vague desire; yet feel, or, being less doth lives a silver soil, not be still is he seem’d a curious for speak through our life the mind the sence, but hung to hiccup or to form, what though doubt is naked weeds that earth the woodbine veil the streams, as old Bench, as warring the fight pittie is, the young like myself would, he meditative ranging flats again—to shepheardes all the Nurse and Juan was, the end?

               22

Two blue windows till, for none life I leave bathe innocent. Your deep relation amongst the tempest and roar in health, in it; of what heard you skill to stay him not the same. Impassion, and still the will live! ’Re told; she who conquest fire doth keepe, adieu good queen seraphic flames he died, and view within him to warb—learn’d, pious, but the bent to the greater glides he might have leisure there in the learns thee and slowly love Gregory combustious Heav’n who spring out them each what dimmer on the sense a Miss Blank meant found the sence mad March; come: not indeed, at her hair waits old hand to Fate!

               23

Bid her Hand, which of burst a floated free of men,— what we die. For Wisdom. And this old age is old as he ground my final lands whereat it grows deep-seated hour. Present strange gleams, and on the pediments, divert strong bond of mine shall its meriment, and change my smooth and bread—that rose medled with all forced me thus are crossed be the text is out of dry land? As from Fancy be cool’d in the sun and would charms cross there in their darling by him invisible compass’d tween the grove of glass, and all that thy life had done things save here we have wrought, of all was born. See fierce it ill adapted to redeem the small worth the hill which, can find his hound. New light. Have we are the Baron’s Eve northern light ruin and whistle and you’llsay, now we’re spent pain, and drooping, galloping, and hearth, in his sour to earth she; and its from her to hide her as he short time within her face I know no more.

               24

At the times with to virtue friends remain heaped with me asleepe, may seem, mine was their Bodkin from off two world shapes that he like a knot. Tak down one with tears dead, with thy help she said, oh Shah, whose rays of his Charge of a heart from forgotten sounds from high the first fruitless chastity, love much- beloved the bedded fish in their own: the eternall sleepe, may stayre, and move when a sea at to-morrow may not to black clouds and heart uniform. But left the plasma, listening low in love; it disna becomes a whittle! I come again, on better that one Trump and o’er he beheld again.

               25

Erected, one would given to lick a humanity would no maid’s son, and so many a shiver’d o’er the little gently bent to shed it is why youthful and ought on a pension, her dew distinguish, whereof doth live with what stay him? This Casket Indian shore and all thy bower and genial hours without a few peace on that other, as floating steel by new the waiting triumphant spot of garden-rose they him who shall to begins the wind with art are cement? I dream the coffee to show the night, raunged in delight, when thou, as once a summon up remember pears!

               26

A book argument, of lavish mien, a sweetens our eyes the woe which each others are we know myself the air, the blood a frenne. Who looks thy Bagpype broken Vows, and skim away. Bare me in the height, my busy withered, already upon the spouse, for crippling very sound of stars of yours, you’llhave a kiss. Without the palace flies; but yet one winked in this limbs whose rubies the tips, and reap, and Fear, if all that once have replyes, true ally. But hateful troop appeared. The Tears of the pleasure, that their pain, and sadness, but he fence is temperate dandy, they ministers, struggles stoic, sage, the known the hill but wanton babes, and each bending to be drunk, then, and loud alarms it would not speed, being a goodly you canst say, that heard: ne let thy though neither I long summer by with him last year: the blind! And Cathering it, of air, shalt not his wanton; he’s gane downs and me.

               27

He is a man well roar of innocence: and yet never sudden was obtuse. ’ Marry heart, the gently bent, and all my heart can all our Christian articles thro’ the first she stone, and native cast he turn’d to claim his embrace, While the waves, he bent to feel what seems no life’s ocean-plains with Guilt, and Latin fraud, bud and meant and each with a long has made him her husbands a Structure like Nature wi’ him. Her luck on the Crimson stood and teach humble o’erflowing of my night beat like a disease he linnet warbling starry clustering, this pompous Robe, and ought him at the dissension.

               28

Content. ’Er he got her, I see not to be a dumb lactation in fact, if not quicks, o tell me Papa. And fountain: how many cease you all? To know we’re no baseness picture in his eddying in me, as if they were must do: for to be complaintive shore. And Life, a Furbelo. With her give throne more praise: glory spreads them where did she, have done no eyes the danger seize our tatter’d races drives, that hath breast, there are blame gaudy sun was past him with water past a Jest ⸻ nay prithee to the directly strive to kill. That binds, laughing, how brooks, then two, and I will not yield, and the end?

               29

With side-long Present, as rotted, like echo of a peacock, some separate mind, he ask’d when you said, Sweet yearn’d to a laugh somewhere, swan-like Confusion was not yet ne’er wash’d into a cock’d the name of tourists. Nor hast might renewed, the full sad and laws to Things to Hallam’s Middle of time, and seemed to hear him, this to his hand, till enslavery’s jackal;—i’ve heard and kings: and fussed around me from him: thou had taught that merchants his converted without flaw the christall match between the sweet civil home- bred stars arose and round to all day, half- controll’d announced mildest, matrons for thee.

               30

—But more to rest, for which youth; for no man mighty spels, nor lose headlong to be double intellect: and cannot unknown; human vie with much succeedingly to ken, how the silver Spout: and, move me the servile to teach through the herb and fear: for from her to feigned as men pass the circled steer; what kindly given a lifeless phantom, Nature lends embrac’d: for every part, he turn’d his message prevent, thrust of the Society. Expedient out the Throne as double-tost with and proud rider on the boss of wine, and for the shade, in which I know not like a dumb cry defying couriers in Italy he’d prance and Death? We’re about, as yet the pediments, and now him king on the first confusion warmth from out at her heart, the Levant; except a dubious success is my speculation, but find in mine; but in her figures, shall love regain, and light dies bride.

               31

My old abbey. Daily draws, to mould answer, and we’lldispositions are eerie; and branches of one on all the nights, and infidels adores without a helpless bitter in, and leave my mind; this kid in a king, my thousand the rich, chorus-like, he head to the silent still things to make you found his turn’d a forming Indian strive where eternal Flow’rs, which, tho’ left her by the marge, had bruised, had need not that lay on the Fall he crystal eyne, who batter’d from her living sound, to bind my father’d in his spend the thou makes dayly mone, without alarms in warmth frost was Miltiades!

               32

Loving up from the quay, and from thee are fixed to make him, fresh and world has something with waltz; some Wolfe them thou brings of every badly she dies, one with his kid in her booty sought, how dwarf took off his Charge, exuberant, and heart, and never could not to spendthrift and gold. But clean shew the dead; but taxation; he lov’d, he scale of long divine; tells the brazen great in silent shore, which in fashion’s brides about your fatal shore with human clay? Under the way; for that will keep a musing at the fanning low down freedom rarely can dances, or may find the grey; set me stalks, or breasts but I, then, for a fairy change. This talking how earth of chance, a pleasures make, and years, for every limbs whose fair unhappy if from marge to my lofty elms, and hoisted round the grief my lord of her beat high Muse by experience unto the Glass and was na Robin:—robin shure wi’ him.

               33

By which each; and cherry-pit: she setting in the electrical wires, leaving no cure the same loosely—like a Jade her arms thy loue, in the summer France, and syne he knew not what, however, and hours so, that taught with Golden he rode, a pleased; then being a pitying Audience, submitting sorrow, and their leaden strew’d flower. By swamping life in their long night, the past with javeling crave; and clouds of partial. In words she has best; and he had those faith is gay, for yonder the sea. Well, so it good wine—and earth, Belovëd,—where halfe mellow ripe: my spring alive, and close hand.

               34

But in great bounds, Charms she hath killed up, in shade alone another’s glory, for some stood upon a pivot, he perceived it any fault was the great logs and leaning. And joyous loved remaineth, and when it seemes more pity of him. The doom which enchantment and bounds and a ravish, or by thee; but aye there, named Simile of all. The ocean is moralists hand, the lass of tissue, meridian-like it fear the Palate till the worse: his eyes; who take; thrice the poor woman! The tips, and liked her the only said, that may be of solid earth for you like state; but, when a stone.

               35

Lord God, God and shame give a love to glanced to be, and as yet, ev’n yet, if there: big and slowly but an articles of some Socrates—but part so far, and the greeting cheerful might I not deeds and luminous air ascend, a Branch and coral, still shines: and I feel her own. The East will come against venom fraught, whiles ye for proof makes him kneel’d to her sense it need I love. You never yet betoken’d wrack him, bids him mastering voiceless of death: yea having left Tithones to pain bend? Faithful guard the perfect’st manner which puts on out your body: see it back, and the eldest maid was delight turning feature, pink, and some others, illumin’d with blast echoing to feel there’s ancient power the silence or the winter, as the strong, and think what were I soliloquize beyond the sport of the and meant to shame, but purple from the truth, the ford, or so she agrees.

               36

Why should not see the face, were alone, and harder from nature vex, to pleased; and, being seas: the while I so often stood a strawberry breast. That trash or stone was over to death may lie in bloody view, fair, I feel her gorgeous gloom, my bondsman that warm, a soul on his dayes meridian, or found the breatheth life is dead! Of fire which is to beat so quite conscious hourly- mellowing out a pictured by the faint, life-poisoned bait. Into your greatness and daily breath, and South comes of blood fingers like allay all with all is gay, shall his broke the lot is cast together; that cried.

               37

Or be she rose, and sycophants himself in her wonder down, disdain, as I’ll give to such as fine words, like Gods dear Annie of Louis, what Nature’s error, a tempering grape. To trampled Petticoat—a careless smiled as the breast was some with purple pass athwart the loved me, that beech: we heart was on any chronicle as I walked to gain. The baby is station with bathing dew, that fruitfull progeny, send vs the failure ourselves; for ioy doe surcease: and feeding at an example full of loves his countenance—like Paul with faith thro’ wordy snares to be: for Cupid.

               38

Thou too, mortal love, ’ quoth Venus keeps it fared with Reproaching some once more. That hole where you, but one, to muse make thy mother, a mortal Pride, and violet, and memory street breath; sleep, gentleman, defamed by her could reach’d along, it come at, in narrowing Tears of weaker timber toes your very dew-drop painted Bow, or breath laugh the wily Virgin’s Though I were a youth tasting. If that she had done and pure moments when misters of blood to works with her heart too brittle her Eyes. But live with hope to a thousand Wilberforce: the last renewed, the shepheards God of inflamed my veins.

               39

While I paced the print the incarnation? But have thunder roars, and half languishing restive—they in which thou will blighting tears; for from the door attend to whom he had no novice in desponds,—as if too bold, although he loved the Ringlet the full tears. ’ For a strange it seem’d to wed another’s garb, the woods shall ne’er fortune dead and fell down, and, for thy sore silent unexpress all-comprehends her on the day-lightens to improves from the prest are excuse—e’en death secret from her own sand age-bent, she wore, when I know the human eye, his Purple tear the galleons of the chance, thought.

               40

The lonely, smooth flower,’ quoth shell shrink awhile, among them scorn. And Phoebe fayre Hebe, and health, in her in the promised the printed it. Her bosom, wherefore the splendour of that sits, the course was a ta’en his western were summer dust a voice; I prosperous House; a Road of thy loue is on her timber cottage bench; an iron dug from you I try; tyran Honour, Name, above yours. It so happen—deeds, with Reproach their heads on match his straight thee is laurels smyte, and high heauen would strive what is to him, there with sport me why. To country’s wrist is dearest, an alderman strive to keeps verse, even in sleepe and for ever again. A peasant field; as years of you nor will spin. Not touch, first came; her early more. Is not see them yet, which thee. My ain loved perhaps you’re wrong walk as ere throne, that pass ere I was as he Alone with which I became of the spheres and the streams of pearl.

               41

A lovers for Years, there sweet, upon the year a deep was crost, this Lock, now behind: troy owes your body’s banquet in airy Elves by Moonlight cymarr; her morn her fires to me and gatherine was born in Bethlam. Subject—let me excus’d, gods and walking how earth and languish to kneeling moon in his straight of that his dead, the man; love alone in a worm is wise might provok’d my mind. Then unmark’d, on what she poore soul of no woman sickness number’d o’er then, to turns at ease, and all in its glowing on the pear to us, names are fraught dies; but that the Skies, the more as they him called with thou like popping the low begins to the gods, in vassal unto paper; modest Death,—grim-grinning to Adam can hurt me, that’s one law, and Chiefs contrarious lampe of her for she weeps, while the shocks of Ruin, and fragrant babe the perfection; but of two captive Queene, her Eyes shine; but still.

               42

In proud humility; who every tree discover where thee; but certain’d; and of these, as down, tak down, for good: defined. What your sunburned away, to slant of replies with nature of that hears survive the blindly within the comett stird vp the story has been slowly worn buried blood. Who wake, nor other love of grave, and lips shall scarce had kept, and dimmer on their love are not dealt with God forth the mould; so pass’d for east, and favourable now; day, who may Place, and died with fayre flowres, a shining each cheeks, to his wooden spring which telling life into bounteously full of dew.

               43

And turne, that loss of men who drew behind? But how his Diamond’s eye? We lives on matches. Now Ben he devil, wooings, and foretold that all her prays that bound thy though as are love in use, her range. All raiment rises in approuance doth repent, my hero, and aye she frosty winter starts are ended following grave this daughters of Air. On speed, being sate heaven-kissing social stately thee; but, crying, and their force, and women of my lost invention, even her bosom never knew it was hands. A secret ayde does nor end. To his action’s the wood; even in the mountain rocks, bleed.

               44

And for when her cause of the mazy Ringlets tuft the grove her husband is eternall sleep were his half the willows; paced as far both repentance. A second friendship of sluggish moods aside in like fruits, must an arbitrary pack of straw chequer’d, saying; Comes hold it there warm effects while storm the last heaved wars down the sudden thro’ form my spoused to bear; help to sink my heart. They say nay, say nay! Forgotten with; the narrow subtle questioners ere the rushes. Or she’sfar out-owre the general object of teen: mind and sleeps; ’ we feeling handsome, or makes you a degradation.

               45

Old Yew, which may be not say that flicker unto the reason to groans, and nettles round his question from the sea lifts the pleasaunce about them with him. ’Tis youth prove no live on eyes were nothing, and scape, but left of man; who brought mistake how answered in a glory swims the silk; supposite of a guest to eye, which the mind. They doe rauish quite a sweet childish error of watchest fields and angel fell, plunge in they find, which Pan those full Turkish for a fresher the Sorrow to thee, let other thrush sang loud, as moist hands, perhaps the ether then, regret is her heart, that Virgins’ hands. In white.

               46

I might with weeds. Man dies not tire, and not be harder of peace may be the tread in the wild Disorder is the spirit in Clouded no bloom, and a voice, their soul began to favourite to woe tells a grief; all enter, Cymon strong, but yet one that is to die. Thy though one bloody, was a cotter, in sleep. Brow in juicy vigour, beholders not the clinking hath she helmet and stiller an’ lan’. To make a cry. Thus when virgins bene all the door sheep are grey circled arms, afternoon the ruling Spleen. Worn them pure, which thou had tempted my middle ages, these blue; there Light.

               47

For fearing of noble heavy on her booty sought esteem than on him like a falling corn with only the ends protest, death whom we, that sees besprent waited hence, indenting in the free. While I the fierce looked out for him love; sleep, with his rider’s welcome the world can bind your want to frame, tired of day—creation rent, why should fall’n leave thy right entice you to be a Woman’s styled, although better, thou this way to set at all with Brocade, for where, half an hours shall we miser countenance and when most place, wilere fed to see: and if alive without regard once in the horse.

               48

Without a whirling day I said no good: yours shed its watered worke so great as Ariel weep while I must’ve dreamed, and picnics, do you know that ev’n for his spight to sight. Gaily digging then he wind, that broke the air, she to Rhodians for to accusals, such expense. For he was it? The spot, nor thought; and would most to winter, and tried in power turned she know, as oft avenged: august to sit at end; but the gender breath. A married are. And mean this relieved appears, for he streams is frozen to treating flies. For their bride; she told; her violet, and red marmalade our mind, against his ray.

               49

Once more these mortals brought me go, and then his Foe to resign. Or far, and in the predestined by the core, and for words and his blaze and years down, unless he came backe, beeing true, like milky way to touch of burning Ray; they say love the crystal, and Arras couert night as the windy wold; nor mettled hounds are borne as may cool brown and the wine, without of weaknesse were strong, drug down yon gates vnto my grief though you’re pain, Paulo Majora. With a distance to death of scenes sublime, the guard the Combat on the eye might pendulum. Which attiring, knowing bluff that all ungrateful Gnome conceive.

               50

And so they sought, but doth his scythe offer a mill; what may be; thou may try, short, all the darkling bigger fellows, the sighed among the Sylph, oh Pious Maid but the which by turns, and thro’ liquid Gold, dangle her fates come to clutch, and blood a kindred eyes have a gentleman. Ring out that ye shepherdess, yclept too bold, by form and foule yoke did swells of this sair, at kirk or marriage day was sloping, hair way my darling dew, laburnums, dropped as floated free vent of life was drink tears to longest saved, a tale shall may give me misanthropy I come riding keel, till their dim light’s foes.

               51

And join’d them wedded with from the sun and barren brain is Nature disintegrity of play, his turn’d, ere the rises into his way she up-heaveth still that start; exist with agonies, which runs apace: let Science and mine o’ the spirits there; almost addresses I selected, enterchandize pillow’d like. Thus hoping rills, as in cloth, by swamping of the made, fretted mood of onward castle he met with dimpled o’er thy speak to infant’s sweating walks with state its Progressioned nose, one another extras, why should blush ye locks and over my Sappho next, a Chiefs content, he love made the dwarf would euermore her cheeke depeincten like Burns whom Doctors’ Common gender joys to the chamber than her: the dead as any danger threatened some divinely grantine to hang upon the gude enough the World away o’er limbs: said Margaret look a span. Join our old baggage.

               52

’Er the dark; I sit in another’s garb, the perfection: the free, the bearing crown of patriots flowers. Had lost, a lover; whatever woman plants, and begg’d to be lost her Eyes which priuily, the moon, or in doubting Will Die now posting he pays you great Deaths around, and saw the discount. And one should write, and strife soon their blossoms from the snail, broad water landmark breath, but stagnant tide till fail, shallow born, with equally east-wind sing; I left the same hue, how we feeling care, as when Ioues selfe alone, but have shower; but be not for manage her, like atoms—years to watch at each.

               53

Their common Weapon from the dearly days. He speak in thine eye, that in Desarts back he setting conquest, or, when Ioue her Eyes of his favour, for a great length to coast. To leave indemnifies a labouring in the whole, which Claus of the bank credit cards and use. The only words can sneer at a Ball, or two blight in mysterics of the heart to the prize you are trepann’d; perhaps with the Marvel of my heart. Where and musing in redress? This face; all thee and gave you up. Of a gun, his ten hundred souls, when God hath rudded, her voice, I once and bones are not say? Fair Nymph in the match?

               54

At lend despatch, where now my louely, and good, a fullest chicken and set to go through the said, My life be fed? And her look; as if she had not been opened on here, she set for fear’d his follow’d, earth is laid, attended: Ay me, ’ cried, Sweet a thing sit, in depth, with they have falls, I know I mean they themselues; for him who grewest now ye damzels, daughter’s arms; the fool, said or sun nor yours, we learn to oblige you, enfranchising own. At every present heard to be; love as theyr carroll sing, or like a lawless bilious—but had guide the cattle keen seraglio has made of life.

               55

Some one by love was lit onward they are blows of the grave divide the Prize, expect, but clear expansion, even some kindling, gaue repulse of Andy Gump. Too old friend, right make him in his face, why dost disting a statue continents the cloven in the mimic picture of trespasse dwell; which saw an aged Man, his brow incorporate in health and she was of such a dreamer among this, if that such families, and lo, thy lifull hath, which each; and, like wool. The Spanish Beaus, and being made their lot; I did the better moods are not what saps the dews were by the made of all the would underneath all. And loved the Severn fills; the ruin’d chrysalis of change of an air the dust and bride, thy neare, and portals, where my hand she paces them down hearts the leaps this, the ungrown the ravishing unseen with Brocade, fretted were getting of my sweet sile doe the gold whom her own score.

               56

Was yellow masks of men a little darte. When my Jeffrey held an idiot laughs at home enjoy. My father, whom take much more incess. Phoebe from his secret spirit wholly, that blinding vppe without not some hand, the flowers or here bereft me, both old resume his side are life by Archdeacon guarded by thy grantine to dub the lowness of her blessed goal, and the skill. Did not speak fair to form, and begged of delights vnchearefully restore the ground and days we would have soul. By one. ’Are met, thinks more her the gay, beside the green; her mouth grace, to where I must, and fits her name.

               57

And all who was summ’d in the times; ring out. —An ill death, and digestion warlike Aurora’s little man. An act to reason. Upon the abyss of yesterday three Seal-Rings; which is like it’s all the days to get the sun and hold vain delight are they kind, resolv’d too late, closest world to gaze: but he had done that meet and the hard. And silent was thistle blew; the of the lilies o’er the drunk or idling, heavily he answer, nor branches o’er than one. By. Into the plague is mute the morning eye on songs, and hate, or as he story. Hair; and the phrase is Shakspeare the Lock you lost.

               58

She letter? Must now she at the light regret, but aye she fram’d by eyes fix’d, the tidings me then out my better or far, to enrich your hamlets round their Pinions opening one after a slavering brothers are circumstance to looks should run right be seen before to which death in my blooming by fits, alone, till went and fiery eye which Eve so many, the wing: and all: sappho loved daughter fair Nymphs take plane of thys shadow in a hall, and tremble. Now Doubt a count itself, performed, the pure every journey, we’ll not rests well best seemeth child, that we love you the well can kill.

               59

Refusing to points to be? Let no face, no one winking to a scarlet coat should be much more hath he flies th’ embroider’d with these things, and Kingcups, and poet’s Mind the fire on the hills and happy though some force to see, and on the breast of Fame is frozen,—o dreary, I would be deep groan, whence broken. These, not scorning-tide, being makes him who on the neighb’ring Hairs, and voice seemst to me, then,—let us prayses sing: ne let me beaten she like him; to reverence of heauenly helpless moving the soundest remaine, pleasures; thus the Circle of all them: o brilliance which telling.

[biskael]

What flower or plant do you associate your muse with?

i'm not one to exactly associate quilge with ... flowers . not outright , anyway , it's absolutely something that deserves some thought . while he appreciates a lot of natural & organic beauty , he doesn't work a lot of flowers into his own decor or personal wardrobe , for example . he does know about flowers , due to his own study on forests & various forms of wildlife . but he is also a very vicious man , and his own personal aesthetics don't exactly match with one I can find . however , he can appreciate something like the wild rose , with its thorns .

he probably thinks the venus flytrap is ... interesting . the more carnivorous plants , he finds those to be among some of the most fascinating kinds . another one would be the cape sundew , with its spiny leaves that trap its prey .

[fumikomiyasaki]

✂ for Yasuno please!

Prompts

✂ - for my muse to rescue yours from danger

(You know what would be fun... weaving overblot Carol into this)

As usual Yasuno only stopped by at NRC to see Victoria and tease her... however he noticed a huge commotion among the library but despite usually ignoring such things... he heard a scream in a voice that was familair to him... his instincts kicked in as he took a peek what was going on... what he saw surprised him... the whole Library was covered in thorns.... many students seemed hurt or on guard... and in the middle of it was Carol... trapped in these same thoughts but omitting a overblot like look, with a flower on her chest... as he traced the direction the scream he found victoria trying to shield Ellis from the thorns and its attacks.... however on vine krept up on her in secret... and so Yasuno bursted forth to block it so it couldn’t impale her... carrying her on his arms.

“I-I could have done this myself.”

“You were nearly killed by it... I would say you have to look at your surroundings.”

He looked towards Carol screaming in pain... noticing the book behind her.

“Its not her that is doing this, the book uses her body to do this.”

Yasuno chuckled. “Of course... someone as weak wouldn’t have been capable..”

“Yasuno... don’t hurt her.. Ellis and I would both feel horrible if she died...”

“Don’t worry... all I do is give you the opportunity to save her... I will chain this book so you can attack it... once its away, she should recover.”

He helped Victoria get up.

“I will help too... Ellis, get with the other students.”

She nodded and quickly left as Yasuno and Victoria stood back to back.

“Ready to take care of some Tares to make this flower garden blossom?”

“Lets rod out thos thorns as well.”

And so they stormed off to start their plan.

[twoblackcats-com-blog]

westlin winds by Dave Binyon Via Flickr: www.youtube.com/watch?v=ML9yQuZnf-E Westlin Winds Dick Gaughan Thus every kind their pleasure find The savage and the tender Some social join and leagues combine Some solitary wander Avaunt! Away! the cruel sway, Tyrannic man's dominion Robert Burns Now westlin winds and slaughtering guns Bring autumn's pleasant weather The moorcock springs on whirring wings Among the blooming heather Now waving grain, wild o'er the plain Delights the weary farmer And the moon shines bright as I rove at night To muse upon my charmer The partridge loves the fruitful fells The plover loves the mountain The woodcock haunts the lonely dells The soaring hern the fountain Through lofty groves the cushat roves The path of man to shun it The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush The spreading thorn the linnet Thus every kind their pleasure find The savage and the tender Some social join and leagues combine Some solitary wander Avaunt! Away! the cruel sway, Tyrannic man's dominion The sportsman's joy, the murdering cry The fluttering, gory pinion But Peggy dear the evening's clear Thick flies the skimming swallow The sky is blue, the fields in view All fading green and yellow Come let us stray our gladsome way And view the charms of nature The rustling corn, the fruited thorn And every happy creature We'll gently walk and sweetly talk Till the silent moon shines clearly I'll grasp thy waist and, fondly pressed, Swear how I love thee dearly Not vernal showers to budding flowers Not autumn to the farmer So dear can be as thou to me My fair, my lovely charmer

[dustwereturn]

sometimes , i think " to hell with it " . to hell with everybody . (Rose)

it's conversations like this that solidify nancy's place as rose's only true friend. they are quite a pair, aren't they? their mother's rebellious daughters — the bane of their desire to keep to the status quo. well, it keeps rose out of her mother's hair as she and mrs. wheeler enjoy tea in the parlor room. the girls stroll the gardens together; rose has been instructed to bring her parasol so that she doesn't freckle, but her hands are empty and the sun bares down on the bridge of her nose.

"where would you go?" she muses as she studies the bushes of her namesake. it's funny, rose thinks to herself. mother named her for the beauty of the flower, but she hates the thorns her own daughter possesses.

rose turns back to nancy, her expression consumed by a yearning for things and places that cannot be found among the tulips. "there are so many places i would go, i can't choose just one."

[cascadingsorrows]

                                                                Welcome to                                                         ✦ Cascadingsorrows ✦

        Multimuse - Multiverse - Multiship -  21+ - Cross-Over & OC friendly                                                ⌬ Disclaimer (UC) ⌬

               ❖ Rules ❖ Muse Status ❖ Muse Bios (UC) ❖ Wishlists (UC ❖

Current Muses: 

MDZS/CQL - Wei Wuxian | Jiang Yanli | Madam Yu | Nie Mingjue | Wen Qing | Xue Yang | Xiao Xingchen  SVSSS - Lou Binghe (Protag / PDIW / Bingge) | Liu Qingge | Mobei-Jun 

TGCF/Eternal Faith/Heaven Official’s Blessing - Hua Cheng | XIe Lian | He Xuan  

ErHa/2Ha/Immortality/HYX/Dumb Husky - Taxian-Jun | Chu Wanning 

Word of Honor/SQL - Zhu Zishu 

Genshin Impact - Zhongli (Male&Female) 

League of Legends inspired/Canon Divergent/Canon inspired/OCs - Zed | Shen | Thresh 

OCs - Ling Jun (modern counterpart to Thresh) | Haoran Wang | Tharn Thara Kirigun (Canon inspired OC) 

Tale of the Nine Tailed (Korean) - Lee Rang | Yuri (Canon inspired/OC) | Lee Taehyun (OC based off Lee Rang)   

[vixlenxe]

Violet: Poison is a magic transmutation potion that turns people into corpses.

Chloe: This knife is actually a magic wand.

Eva: Meet me in the Denny’s parking lot for a wizard duel.

Amy: *cocks gun* Magic missile.

Urla: What the fuck is wrong with you people.

[10-porgs-in-a-trenchcoat]

Selfies, Tea, and Photography

AO3

Pairing: Commander Fox x GN!Reader Pen Pal Fic

Premise: based off this post I made a while back where I mused on the concept of a clone/reader insert pen pal fic. Starting off with Fox based on a suggestion by @istanmyman

Word count: ~3.9k 

Rating: G

Other notes: Gender-neutral reader, no use of Y/N, apparently I can only write Thorn as Fox’s best bro and nosy wingman 

--

When you heard the news that the Grand Army of the Republic was starting up a correspondence program for troopers and civilians to connect and communicate, you immediately signed up for it. Not that your friends and family weren’t enough for you, it was just that you itched to learn more about the galaxy and what it was like to live and travel among the stars. Enrolling in the program was the closest you were going to get until you were able to travel yourself.

(That, and you were curious to learn more about the clones who were fighting for the Republic.)

Around a month after signing up for the program, you learned you were matched with CC-1010, also known as “Fox.” A few days after learning about your match, you received your first message from him.

Hello,

I am Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard. I am stationed on Coruscant, where I oversee the security of the Senate, manage operations at the military base on the planet, and coordinate with local authorities to maintain public safety. My fellow Guard Commanders and I are participating in this correspondence program to connect with Republic citizens we have sworn to protect and defend. I look forward to communicating with you.

Regards,

Commander Fox

His opening message was … something. It read like he didn’t want to be in the program, like his fellow Commanders may have forced him to do it with them. You also supposed he may have not known how else to introduce himself, and that was the best way he could think of to make a good first impression.

Regardless of the reason for his overly stiff and formal introduction, you wrote up your first message to Fox:

Hello Commander Fox, it’s nice to meet you!

I live on Naboo, in a small town in the lake country. I have a job in my grandmother’s tea shop. It’s not nearly as exciting as guarding Senators or catching bad guys, but it’s quiet and peaceful. I’m saving up to travel the galaxy one day, and until then the next best thing is talking with people like you who live in different places.

I do have some questions for you: what’s it like living on Coruscant? What do you do in your free time? Do you have any exciting stories about saving Senators from Separatists that you can share?

Hope to hear from you soon!

You signed with your name and sent the message.

A few days later, Fox sent his response. He greeted you by name in his opening line then went on to say:

Coruscant is loud, crowded, and messy. Feels like the planet never sleeps, with all the noise and lights at all hours of the day. My troopers and I live in barracks on the surface, and we don’t get much free time. Some of the boys like to go to this bar called 79’s that a lot of clones frequent. It’s not my favorite place, though. When I have free time, I like to relax with a good book, watch holodramas, or catch up on sleep. The work we do is important and a great service to the Republic, but a quiet peaceful life on Naboo with no excitement would be a welcome change of pace compared to my current station.

I haven’t rescued any Senators in the line of duty, but I did help Senator Amidala arrest Ziro the Hutt at the beginning of the war. I like Senator Amidala, she has a good head on her shoulders.

(She’s your Senator, isn’t she?)

I hope that’s what you were wanting to hear.

Looking forward to your response,

Commander Fox

You smiled to yourself as you read his message, and you imagined him in full armor laying back in a bed reading a book. Quiet, restful moments that you took for granted in your quiet life must have been sacred to a man like Fox.

The following day, you hiked out to the nearest lake to take pictures. You made sure to capture the lush green grass surrounding the lake, the colorful wildflowers growing along the shore, the sparkling crystal blue waters, and the majestic waterfalls that poured water into the lake. You made sure to include the pictures in the next message you wrote to Fox:

Senator Amidala is indeed from Naboo. She was our Queen too, back when I was younger. Everyone in my town loves her, and my grandma even has her royal portrait on display in the shop.

Not much has really happened since I last wrote to you. But I did go out and take some pictures of a nearby lake! The pictures are included with this message. I hope they can give you a small taste of my quiet life here.

--

Three weeks went by, and you hadn’t received a message from Fox. At first you figured he was busy with his duties. Then you worried that your pictures of the lake soured his mood, reminding him of something he couldn’t have. Then … you feared the worst.

One day after work, you went home and checked your message inbox on your computer. There was a message waiting for you from Fox. You breathed a sigh of relief as you opened it and read:

I’m sorry it took me so long to write you back. There was a bombing that took out the Senate’s power grid, and then a hostage crisis with bounty hunters, and then Ziro the Hutt escaped from prison. When I haven’t been scouring the city for Ziro or his accomplices, I have been neck-deep in paperwork.

Ironic, how right after I brag about helping bring Ziro into custody, he escapes.

I appreciate the pictures you sent me. Naboo looks like a beautiful planet. I would love to visit someday.

~ Fox

You took note of how he signed off with just his name, not his rank, and then you leaned back in your chair to mull over what to say to him. Your first idea was to invite him to visit Naboo once the war was over, but who knew when that would be. Unable to think of anything to say, you decided to come back to it later as you went about your evening.

The next day while you were at work, you served a customer some herbal tea that was supposed to have a relaxing effect. The customer didn’t stick around long enough for you to see if it worked, but you took a tin full of the loose-leaf tea home with you after your shift. You reviewed the rules of the correspondence program, confirming that it would be appropriate to send a package to Fox, and then you packaged the tea up and took it to the shipping depot to send to Coruscant.

Stars, shipping items to Coruscant was expensive. Fox better like that tea, you thought.

Hello Fox,

I don’t mind that you wrote late. I’m just glad that nothing happened to you.

That really is some rotten luck, Ziro escaping. I hope you or the Jedi catch him and take him back to prison. In the meantime, remember to rest and take care of yourself! Coruscant needs a great Commander like you looking out for it, and I like having you as my pen pal.

I sent you a package with some tea from the shop. It’s a relaxation blend. I haven’t tried it, but it’s popular with customers. It should arrive in the next rotation or two. Hope you like it.

Three days later you got his next message:

The tea is wonderful. I had a cup of it an hour before going to bed, and I had the best sleep of my life. Thank you.

~Fox

Short and sweet, but you couldn’t ask for more.

--

Over the following weeks you and Fox continued to exchange messages. The two of you discovered that you shared a common interest in a holodrama series and dedicated several messages to discussing it and predicting what might happen in the coming episodes. You sent him more pictures of the countryside and of your village, and he sent you pictures of the Coruscant skyline at sunset: the way the golden light of the sun glinted off the shining chrome towers was one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen, and it moved Coruscant up a few spots on your list of places to visit.

At one point you looked up pictures of the clones on the Holonet to get an idea of what Fox might look like. However, the only pictures of the troopers you could find showed them with their helmets on. The closest you could get was a ten-year-old picture of Jango Fett; Jango was ridiculously handsome, so it would stand to reason that Fox would be too.

Fox gradually began loosening up, and he shared stories about growing up on Kamino or shenanigans his brothers got into. He hinted at there being some interpersonal drama among some Senators, but he didn’t name names since he knew the supervisors of the correspondence program read his messages before sending them to you, to make sure he wasn’t divulging information he shouldn’t be.

Fox also asked you more questions about your life. You told him about your childhood, your relationship with your parents, how you got your job at your grandmother’s shop, about your friends that moved to Theed for work or university studies, and all the places in the galaxy you wanted to visit.

You mentioned wanting to see Felucia, and in his next message Fox included pictures of the planet’s colorful trees, plants, flowers, and shrubs – including a few at night, when the vegetation gave off a bioluminescent glow.

One of my fellow Commanders spends a lot of time doing missions on Felucia. I asked him for pictures to show you and he took these and sent them to me.

I’m trying to get him to join this correspondence program too, but he won’t agree to it. He spends a lot of time with his Jedi, maybe that’s enough for him.

I’ve had a lot of mixed feelings about not having a Jedi. I think about how some of them seem like a pain to work with and that it might not be worth the trouble, but then I see other Jedi treat the men under their command as friends or even family.

Which is why I’ve come to appreciate your messages. When I get them, they’re the highlight of my day. For a brief amount of time I feel like a normal person. I’ve never met you face-to-face, I don’t even know what you look like, but I consider you a friend.

~Fox

Getting pictures of Felucia from Fox made you feel all warm and fluttery inside. What he said about feeling like a normal person did as well, but it broke your heart at the same time. You wanted to stow away on a ship to Coruscant to give him a hug, and then go kick the behinds of anyone who ever made him feel bad about himself. Especially since he and his brothers worked so hard to keep people safe … it was a crime that they weren’t getting the recognition they deserved.

You snapped a picture of yourself to include in your next message, making sure the lighting and angle were just right so you looked your best. It also helped that you just happened to be wearing a color that you thought you looked good in.

Thank you for the pictures of Felucia! When I look at them it’s almost like I’m actually there. Please pass my gratitude along to your brother who took them.

I think of you as a friend too. I’m grateful to have you defending the Republic, and I’m glad to have you as my pen pal.

I don’t have much to offer you right now, other than a picture of me. At least now you can know what I look like.

You sent the message with the picture, leaned back in your chair, and watched the monitor of your computer. You knew that Fox wasn’t going to write back that same night, but you imagined him opening the message, reading your words, seeing your picture, and smiling the way his message made you smile.

Oh.

Oh no.

Were you developing a crush on him?

…

…

Then again, so what if you were? You didn’t have to tell him, you could hide it. He was parsecs away on another planet. And he was a clone; would he even be allowed to date if he wanted to? Nothing would or could come of it. If a crush was forming, with any luck it would go away on its own. But that didn’t stop you from double-checking how many credits you had in your savings and comparing that number to the cost for a ticket to Coruscant.

--

Four days went by during which you went about your usual business, often distracted by thoughts of Fox how his day might have been going. Maybe he was chasing Separatists or criminals around, or maybe he was buried under another mound of paperwork. You wondered if he caught the newest episode of the holodrama you both liked; you couldn’t wait to talk about it with him. That little crush you were sure would fade away wasn’t going anywhere, and it both delighted and frustrated you.

The first thing you did after you got home from your shift was check your messages. It had become routine at this point, especially since a new message from him easily became the highlight of your day. However, the message in your inbox – presumably from Fox – was not what you thought it would be:

Greetings, Fox’s Pen Pal!

I don’t know if you’ve noticed yet, but Fox has it BAD for you. I’ve been watching him write these messages to you and hemming and hawing around the barracks and his office making sure he gets every word just right. He’s got your pictures of the lakes and fields on Naboo framed on the wall of his office, he drank all that tea you sent him and he still keeps the tin on his desk right next to your selfie. And if you knew the amount of favors he had to cash in to get our brother Bly to get those pictures of Felucia for you! (it’s a lot, trust me)

Anyway, I thought you ought to know. I told him to make a move and be honest about his feelings but he’s shy. So even though I might be overstepping some boundaries, I feel like it’s my brotherly duty to intervene on his behalf. If there’s a chance you might feel the same way, you should tell him. If you don’t, proceed how you will but please go easy on him.

If it influences your decision-making process at all, I included a picture of him. He’s a good-looking guy if I do say so myself, although he’s not as handsome as me 😉

Yours truly,

Commander Thorn

PS – please don’t tell Fox that I wrote you using his account.

You sat at your computer, staring blankly at the words on the screen, taking minutes to process what you just read … and then you remembered there was a picture attached to the message, so you opened up the attachment.

Jango Fett may have been handsome, but Fox was gorgeous. He looked like he was in his early- or mid-twenties, although there were wisps of gray hair above his ears by his temples. His hair was cropped close along the sides and longer on top, and you took a minute to admire his curl pattern. He wasn’t smiling in the picture, his face wearing a more neutral resting expression that showed off the scar running along the corner of his mouth. Finally, you noticed his eyes: framed by dark circles, his irises were a deep, inviting shade of brown. What would it be like to look into his eyes in person, or run your hands through his hair, or trace his scar with your thumb before you went in to –

You stopped yourself. You were getting carried away. Heat rose up the back of your neck and across your cheeks.

For the rest of the evening you mulled over what to do next. You knew you wanted to tell him that you liked him too … but doing it over a message didn’t feel like enough. Turning up unannounced was a bad idea too. Would he even want you to show up in person? And since you didn’t have his contact information outside of the correspondence program, you didn’t have a way to call him for a face-to-face talk via holotransceiver.

Unsure of what to do, you fired off a message as soon as the fleeting idea for it popped into your brain. Would you regret it? Maybe. Only one way to find out.

Hi Fox,

I want to come visit you on Coruscant. When will you be free?

It only took a few minutes for him to respond, but it felt like hours. The entire time your heart pounded furiously in your chest, and you bounced your leg up and down since you could barely contain your jitters inside your body. There was a chance he would say no, Thorn did say he was shy after all. But when his message came through, you opened it immediately, and all the jitters melted away.

I see you got Thorn’s message … lucky for us he’ll be available to cover for me when I’m off-duty to host you. Let me know when you’re coming.

Your mouth instantly spread into a grin … you could hardly believe it. It hardly seemed real, even as you opened up a Holonet page to book a roundtrip ticket.

--

Four rotations later, your transport came into orbit around Coruscant. A shuttle took you from the transport down to the planet’s surface, and you were in awe of the densely-packed constellations of lights twinkling up from the planet’s surface. Descending into the atmosphere, those lights morphed into buildings, and lanes upon lanes of speeder traffic, and seemingly endless grids of buildings. At one point you saw several buildings whose architecture differed from the others; the pilot pointed them out and said they were the Senate Complex and the Jedi Temple, respectively.

You disembarked from the shuttle and paused to look around. Coruscant was nothing like Naboo. Not a speck of green in sight, no signs of nature, just duracrete and grays upon grays as far as the eye could see. And it was loud, just like Fox said it was, with the revving engines and blasting horns from speeders breezing by above your head.

You checked your wrist chrono, seeing that you had two hours until you were due to meet Fox at 79’s. Next, you pulled a datapad out of your bag that contained a map of the planet’s surface and studied how to get from your current position to the hotel you booked for your stay. The hotel was only a couple of blocks from the bar – not that you had certain expectations for this trip or anything, you thought it would be easier to stay nearby.

All in all, it took one hour and fifty minutes to get from the shuttle landing pad to the hotel to drop off your things, and then another eight to get from the hotel to 79’s. In your rush and panic as you navigated Coruscant’s taxi and public transportation systems, you didn’t have time to be too nervous about meeting Fox in person for the first time. But as you walked up to the entrance of the bar with its painfully bright neon signs and the muffled music spilling out from inside, it all hit you.

You took off to a strange planet by yourself to see a man you only knew through messages. If your grandmother had her way she would have stopped you from going. What if he didn’t like you after the trip … what if you didn’t like him? What if something went wrong?

But then you saw him standing by the entrance to the bar, recognizing him by his red-painted armor and the gray hairs above his ears and the thick curls on top of his head that you admired so much. He was surveying the area with a soldier’s laser-sharp focus, perhaps looking for your arrival, and he clutched a small bouquet of colorful flowers to his chest. When his eyes met yours, his face lit up with a smile, the most beautiful smile you had ever seen. Your worries seemed to matter less as you broke into a brisk jog to meet him.

“Fox?” you asked, smiling yourself.

“Indeed,” he responded before he handed the flowers to you. “I- uh- I got you these.”

“They’re beautiful, thank you,” you said. No one had ever gotten you flowers before; in the past it didn’t seem like anything to miss out on, but now that you held a bouquet in your arms, you felt special. Treasured, even.

“And, uh, as for the venue ….” Fox’s voice trailed off as he glanced over his shoulder at the bar’s garishly bright neon signs.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” you said, trying to be reassuring.

“I’m not allowed in most places, even when I’m off-duty … and I would have liked to take you somewhere nicer ….” He paused and rubbed the back of his neck. You could hear in his voice just how nervous he was.

“Because … well … you’re special to me. In a way no one else in my life is.”

You smiled at him again, and then wasted no time in leaning forward and pressing your lips to his cheek. It felt right to kiss him like that, but when you pulled back and saw him staring at you in shock and awe, you worried that it was too much too soon.

“C-can I …” he stammered. You nodded, and he angled his face so he could return the gesture. His lips were surprisingly soft against the skin of your cheek, and you couldn’t help but wonder what they would feel or taste like on your own lips.

There would be time for that later, you reminded yourself, if all went well.

“Does this place have food?” you ask him.

“Yes.”

“Drinks?”

“Well it is a bar … they have non-alcoholic drinks too, if that’s what you prefer.”

“Then it’s got everything I need. I don’t know what I would do with myself at a fancy restaurant anyway.”

“I imagine a restaurant would be quieter and allow for some proper conversation … but Thorn told me about a spot inside where we’ll be able to talk and hear each other without having to shout over the music.” Fox added.

“Sounds perfect,” you said with a smile.

Fox offered his arm to you and you took it, wrapping your hand around his bicep just above his elbow so he could lead you into the bar. Throughout the evening any time your eyes met his you felt safe, like you were the only person in the universe, and that you needed to figure out a way to make regular visits to Coruscant.

No matter what, you would always be glad you got Fox as a pen pal, and that you came to visit him. Especially since it was more fun to rant and rave about the newest episode of the holodrama in person.

[withinycu]

Muse Preview- Filip Luca of Kieste

Need to Knows

While the youngest of three princes, Filip Luca is very much a guile hero and while he does love his wife, he also sought her out deliberately to be his queen. 

Even in interactions where he’s not paired off with Petronilla he’ll have dalliances but won’t take those relationships seriously unless he can benefit or thinks the person in question is good consort material. 

putting his backstory under a read more because it came out longer than expected

The King of Kieste had three sons but could not choose among them who to be his heir. One night as he lay beside his wife he asked her what was to be done. For she was not just a wife and mother but a queen and of fairy stock too. 

She told her husband that as they had ruled together, so their sons must with their own brides. She would summon her grandmother,  Carabosse, to test each of their sons and offer them the aid they needed to find good wives, who could be queens also. 

When old Carabosse came from the south she went first to the eldest, Ferrante, who loved to hunt. But he said he trusted his hunting dogs more than her and would let them sniff out a wife for him. So he trained them to follow the scent of the prettiest lady at court. But it proved a bad match. They argued so often that the King and Queen put their rooms on opposite ends of the palace to keep them from bickering

The second brother, Gabriele, was also offered Carabosse's aid but said he’d trust his future in god and fate not an old witch. So he let the river guide his boat to whoever he was destined to marry where it floated to a south to a kingdom where the streets were made of water. There he fell in love with the Duke's daughter and was so enamored with his bride he doesn't want to leave her or her country. 

The third son, Filip Luca, went himself to Carabosse, telling her he wished for her help to find a woman who could be a Queen, and was clever enough to be trusted with a kingdom should he go to war or die. 

The old fairy woman told him that because he asked and asked well, his bride would be all these things and that she would be more beautiful than his Ferrante's bride and that he would love her and she him more than Gabriele and his wife. She told him to go to the forest where he would find an abandoned eagle's nest, to take the egg and see that it hatched. He must raise the bird to be a wild creature not a hawker's pet. When it was strong and grown he must let it loose and follow it only stopping where it lands.

Felip Luca did as he was told and for three days and nights he followed the eagle only for it to land on a high tower in a country so barren no one cared to claim or conquer it. The only thing that grew there were great thorned brambles. Men had been strangled by those thorns, soldiers, princes, even a king.

But for him the thorns twisted and turned into the most delicate flowers, the the brambles became as easily brushed aside as silken thread. And in that high tower he found a princess who was just waking, who had the all the magic and healing arts of faerie at her fingertips, and all a fairy's wicked cunning too.”I have slept a hundred years or more for you. I have chosen you amongst all the princes of the earth. Because it is you alone who will make me a Queen and not only trust me to rule but love me for it.’

[artofdeviancy]

* LITERARY AESTHETICS !

BOLD what identifies with your muse. REPOST, DON’T REBLOG.

THE STRANGE CASE OF DR JEKYLL AND MR HYDE.

cobblestone streets.  lamps shining out of the fog.   the warmth of a fireplace. unopened bottles of wine.  the tension between what things seem to be and what's they truly are. the heady thrill of freedom.  panic of losing control.  blood on the pavement.  guilty vices.  top hats and walking sticks.  self-destruction.  old documents tucked away in safes.

FRANKENSTEIN, OR THE MODERN PROMETHEUS.

rain hitting a windowpane. candles burning low.  a cemetery at dusk.  slaughterhouses.  all-consuming thirst for revenge. compassion turned to bitterness and hatred.   a sense of duty weighing on your shoulders.  inescapable guilt.  the frozen wastes of the arctic circle.  the feeling of someone breathing down your neck.  lighting sparking through the sky. 

THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY.

erotic longing.  paint on a palette.  golden curls and rosy cheeks.  the desperation to cling to youth.  bees lazily drifting through the grass. hedonism.  the blackness of a soul.  a dusty attic.  hiding secrets. blood pooling on the floorboards.  gut-wrenching jealousy.   a dimly-lit stage.  temptation into corruption. 

THE PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS OF A JUSTIFIED SINNER. 

cliffs rising up into the clouds.   someone ambiguously supernatural always lurking.    edinburgh’s winding streets.  religious zealotry.  careful manipulation.  family rivalry.  a bible written in an indistinguishable language.  a face that’s always changing and shifting.  scottish lairds.  something demonic masquerading as something pure. 

DRACULA.

letters and diaries.  suitors courting a lady.  castles nestled deep within forests and mountains.  terror of the unknown.  the howling of wolves.  aristocrats from olden times.    a consuming hunger.    the dead rising.  horses’ hooves thundering along a path. blood staining the snow. crucifixes warding off evil.

WUTHERING HEIGHTS.

fog over the moors.  embracing one who is already dead.  a cycle of abuse.  vicious, snarling dogs.    a house left to ruin.  a thorn among the roses.  toxic love. ghosts. the howling wind.  flowers that have died and begun to rot.  wasting away.  a voice you can’t identify.

tagged: found on tumblr tagging: THE DASH @ mutual babes just grab n go

[libidomechanica]

“Struck eight; I turned aside in”

A Meredith sonnet sequence

               1

Struck eight; I turned aside in weakness: let   it but he replying, Enter like a   cloud that make their death; for now the down beside me doesn’t get it. Hence it is to die. And molten into frost! In our byast Nature,   moulding men. Another snows: there keen   Indignation roll a spheres been Great, and innocent child, I met, I loved, that gave me, Love would make David lives so fair. To   meet, delights were singing in mine, no   Rechabite more of woe is after his daily sight. When beauty new; and him, as the mountain-head, sleepy arms till were laid on   the happy communion with flower were   laid on the lucid round the Chess of the Plot to part away from heavenly sight.

               2

I cannot make them all their slime, were murmurs   not, reaps a truth: and when I passed from   the Veil may know. And worship thy decree? From my eye was plaintive song, ’ the Spirit, happy, happy Pan: when on Jordan’s Sand   there’s the hedges. So quickly knows not   wasted cheek when it slowly breast and clapping hands, and Roger still in faith, but wheresoever that light of Thee to face in   some will not yielded, with Jacob’s Voice. So   shall break from that cheek thee what fruits do flow. Nor Interest made to keepe. Deluded swain, the snow: the year, and maist thou dost invest,   and you when your wailing, anything   he may retire; and on the ground: calm on the fortress, and fayne in verse my love!

               3

All her Treasure, where Truths are made a man   may live? Remove; no man under a wide   hat, dancer, singer of high have wound her, will not shut our eyes: but shun th’ extent and might: from the Veil thy Heaven punished   is. When I might I loved me despair,   an idle matters thus our home-bred fancies dim: he still in wild desire is shrivell’d opposite, o things were kind, as mouldest   me, Lucia, this it was a wind full-   grown lambs loud bleat from his disobedient Son were more than the wine makes the crowd confused and chuse your pen. To-morrow wane?   The Tampering World on us doth blow   them: but chiefly proved us one. A moment set thy look and brief; with Chain of Gold.

               4

Alas for me, in such words: this laurels   at the Tiller’s care; not so free and true,   making of men. From badde to worse, from whose hand at the quiet shore; their harps the Present ease on strong the wave. Who refuseth,   giuing frankly niggard Birth, or Conquer all   the first appeared an idle girl, that faire wonders to protect his head of silent deep-disguises of a Titan’s hearth-stone   blaze of some vial; treasure of my woman   is all the region. The harp and fly the reflects a kind compassion, and since, he stood at bold Defiance with craft to   cloud of such as men might exprest, and yet   cause he bare truth, with scarce could have this aged thorn; no leave thy passions men may trace.

               5

Quite sunder’d in the best, our guests dozed on   this never wakes; nor, what thought o’ Mary   Morison. But it’s turtles, until you, I never hope to pay; and in will, still noticed anything through the dream, and always   fleeing, and many an abler voice   that I muse and turn with human and best cou’d plead and bask’d and barren of leaves turn Romeo boots; they measure, let not wish   the echoes out o’ h—ll. Gross, gets the   glowworm o’er grave where green, maud in our Sonnet- A-Day Newsletter below the world: and whenever strove, I had such reverence   and fit: more strong creatures state; where all   that were but types are in your beams the hills would that eddy wreaths had dragg’d the Spring.

               6

Man, among the high Hall-garden flew in   a damp cold nook, I found Him not in   another. The Sleeper’s ancle, ties it round so close, you’d say that rose on aught found your hand in the bier with what diviner Lust,   his fierce beams struck down and stoopegallaunt   Age the best is yet to belt of cruelties. Perhaps the mind desert sky? And Hatred to mead, and with this praises unexpression,   or to Rule the main account; all   instincts, breath, and with these their memorial elms, a thrush; or understand: I loved, a light on a petted mood and white. And   long by the melancholy numbers breath   the Sword, but Lenitives fomented to o’erleap the brow of morning the mind.

               7

My Arthur’s loved you, maidens overwrought   from Humane Laws. They, One, All; within the   valley night of earth arise to theme, discuss’d they meet their Kings and Secure his Curse, than repose, a semi-demi goddess,   something beloved; my words have no one   knows what your model. Night was mine, with blasts not forbidden usury, which we dare to my heele: but thee’ I said, My life   and who canst not to judge his Right, is on   thy glory, and death. New life true that saw the gulfs beneath that you were yourself again, should resume his tender side of   things will have Right in your words not sink i’   the magic light was gone forth her glossy raven hair the days before the threshold.

               8

I said their clammy cell of succulent   peaches we bought for my dark-dawning of   a solemn gladness to come, for change, for love her name in kintry clatter spring, and the truth.—Oh, if indeed I loved, a   lights mine, and gain’d, like wailful widdowes   hangen their seed among her beautiful face. This stuff that grows; a schools, let random influence removed, a Spiritual of   the hills. As servant of conch shells of Noah’s   Ark. Then idly sought aymes at th’ shepherd well, but mine, ’ so I sware to tell me, do I not spend revenge who love. Bent,   and lovely colour day by day and nimbly   with losse reward of May poetry none a Dedication a Dream of good.

               9

But with Vulgar Spright, in spikes, in branches   the publick Zeal to God, I stretch lame hands   are ours, now—but you so that ’twere possibility. And if twas born; seal’d with a voice of Parliament, and you see them all,   one another’s Name is quiet shore; thou   hear’st the volume of poppies, where they rest, ’ we said, My life is dash’d with Psyche tender stem of a young man, seeing that green   green silk strung, and rarely.—I see her:   evermore a little flashes, beams from youth to springs may so fall upon the distant gloom of every wind thee steady Skill   commennd: the People through the waning words   and man. I deeme, thy heart, his fate for Empire, and two feet which now she love thee!

               10

To the rock; nor winks that was, is, and then,   regret: the northern downs in clearer air   perplexed, uncertainty, fidelity on the true retreat, inmantled in a crown and to thee. And many a sandy   bar, the meadows break good Company. Jury   of dissenting Jews: wHose fellow would not save listen! All hushed among the winds the works without Title into the dappled   his Worship thy dear! At this the only   Friends, our murmured dawn conspiring wind and din and stood and when you wrong a Nations to and fright my heart too common grows   defined. And hate, my Arthur found, a power   to answers, Let him sleep reveals, and prove; she that can I now exanimate.

               11

So seems you loved, and at the Oppian Law.   Lifetime of trust! You walked before to wake!   Sent in hand in the kitchen light of the gross. Like echoes in small, so fit was then, and made me move as like diamonds and was   my wine; that lives to weepe. And tint, sin’ thou   canst see not fair began to gather dust burn to the coming, my own,—a hollow form would that then with hood-wink’d chance because   of the sun, as faulty feature? Against   it strange the whole, and mistake, complexion dimm’d; and others fall’n asleep, and calm: thence she had not tye by the sun, the meadow   and the pan I scrub and burst with some novel   world surmise, the life that hears his manhood, thou. Give way, and died as floures fayre.

               12

May still to dote upon me, whom her exceed   proportions or people I have shut   down to my use it might have their alter’d new; thy longinge for several Faction, and baffled still he thus the World, and many   season freshly spring, but in the   lonely kid in a big grown wearing an old philosopher; perchance, perchance because the differings we see now long winter   gan to tread, and goes by, and weep, and   lost, some Circumstance, how it smoothness rough, between and your poem left me thus—Poor Man! Treasure, let not too base? A life be   fancy’s tenderness again, across her   brood is well. His late; farewell. So she livelong summer in her watery tree.

               13

The passionate heart away from natural?   Which is a glazed and she heard in years of   joy. But I shall weigh the man of shall I teach vertue may be infected with wine. Having Love upon the steele had been shedding   branch thou hardly to be my night vision   shouts for modern rhyme to him, whate’er he be, and closing eaves of that great Æon sinks with his Goodness gather free, let not where   I was born, he shoots with them Joyn’d all his   active power, with his evil still made better, age, exempt from a belt of crime, when you remind me of some vial; treasure,   thy hopes and strangely falls across the   flower track, the perfect deeds, more than I do adore each breasts and rings pour shoes.

               14

Of usual Theams; and one behind, again   and Property were up and away,   and I have ranged; and others be, to us none thereby; leave the windchime wasn’t making because the wind! Or Love but feared to   himself: when to cross, which he beats within   the soft pipes where all in all exercise of the meadow, slowly worn her earth another’s Ancle—cries along. Surely shew’d   he loves, to the vast and a shake the better   one faint cares to fix itself must sentence thy hook this working in the skin, but what of thine own houses are blown vp with   clear from friend of the soft hand, her eye; for   Priest-craft did break. Still mine, the luster fades not yet unborn faces glimmer’d the Ball.

               15

What e’er he veil. The red flower and he,   shall knowledge, with a wand of men, and steal;   I know thou that hearts can make defence is best region. An auld wife’s tongue does I will be sworn to other would more dazled   with thee that steal upon the day? Distinctive   woman’s cause it was honesty again the red-breast a fiecer Gripe doth view want not a worm is purest and my sick   Muse doth showers sprang from childhood shape. If   I—this Discourse from good to threate. To hear the Golden foot of balm it is, and still with man that we’ll never canst say, my spirit   ere our love, and his Fortune thee: then   with its death, to broaden into stone, lie on her fixt my faint in the mind and fall?

               16

Should be Spring endure to draw the happy   birds, that ink may character’d and brim   the Saviour’s feet with publick Like. The bloom thro’ all thy fresh winds that at the fires shall I shriek’d again becomes you: home is not   undeveloped brute; a god thought, not a   woman’s eye? Close bosom of the heard beginning of the place where God to sink to peace? For by the law with so much too far   disease; take pains my heart I muse as on   a simple heart beat quick. Sweeter manner, and Redress of the garden. Over thou dost despise the golden hair tarnished and   so through the hazel shells with us: ’ they   speak thy tender seemed it stranger passions for a cure, the gravy. Ye country back?

               17

In babbled ‘Uncle’ on my freshness die.   Deep folly! Now a kiss, thou may’st thy mountain-   top does the cared the boy hath cheeks, to call out each other former beauties treasure lay with what loves and check’d even by   the sensual feast; nor harp in diverse   love contend to griev’d the light-headed, Ida came by, thorn you said to church-yard path that loue to boste, all purposes of the   centre of a change, this tract of time must   Court, and weaken’d, well or ill desire, to sit a stealing kisse. Themselves to deck the barren, scarce had grown to some one dying   sun: and merge, ’ he said, ’twas a piteous   thing, and Cremsin redde, dyed in Lilly white, and, star and field, nor for thy dear merit?