#also thy are dressing her in green and red

[periodcostumefantasylover]

Milady de Winter + costume design in The Three Musketeers: D'Artagnan 2023

[greenqueenhightower]

A Paradise Lost Reading of the Alicent x Aemond and Helaena x Aegon Scenes in 2x05:

As Gwayne and Criston parade Meleys' head through the streets of King's Landing, Alicent and Aemond are high up on the Red Keep's walls. The scene is infested with religious imagery. Satan took Christ up to "a pinnacle of the temple" in Jerusalem during his temptation (Matthew 4:5). As the shot gradually zooms in to Alicent and Aemond looking down on the parade, it reminded me of a passage from John Milton's Paradise Lost, where Archangel Michael (Christ) takes Adam on top of the "Hill of Paradise" to reveal the aftermath of his sin to mankind.

"So both ascend in the Visions of God: It was a Hill Of Paradise the highest, from whose top The Hemisphere of Earth in clearest view stretched out to amplest reach of prospect lay." [Book XI, 376-380]

From this elevated vantage point, Adam, much like Alicent, was offered a panoramic view of his son's body, Abel's, who lay slain in a pool of blood. Alicent gets to glimpse her son Aegon's body as he is laid in a horse carriage covered with rags and brought back to her.

"Adam, now open thine eyes, and first behold th' effects which thy original crime hath wrought [...] from that sin derive Corruption to bring forth more violent deeds." [Book XI, 423-428]

The angel beckons Adam to open his eyes and comprehend the act of violence before him. Alicent does the same. She examines Aemond's face for answers. Has he become the embodiment of violence to the extent that he would burn his own brother to achieve his ends? Have her own actions somehow led to this? Is her original crime of wanting Aegon on the throne being retributed through her sons' rivalry?

As she surveys Aemond's countenance, she is worried about any future escalation of brutality and violence. Does she expect more atrocities to come her way as a form of punishment?

"These two are Brethren, Adam, and to come out of thy loins; th' unjust the just hath slain, for envy" [Book XI, 444-446]

Alicent quickly discerns Aemond's possible involvement in whatever predicament has befallen her other son. As she watches Aegon and Aemond, does she wonder how their contention was germinated? Did she who gave birth to both, also give birth to their fate?

Aemond stands beside her, a saint or a devil in disguise, dressed in his Green Hightower outfit, his brother's dagger on his waist. Like Cain, Aemond yearns to please his mother and seeks to claim what belongs to Abel-Aegon. He has already managed to salvage and claim something from the pyre and that wasn't his brother's body, but his dagger. Cain was moved by envy for his brother's privileges. Is the same force now guiding Aemond?

"Much at that sight was Adam in his heart dismayed [...] Is Piety thus and pure Devotion paid?" [Book XI, 448-452]

Alicent takes a closer look at the carriage bearing Aegon's body. There is fear and uncertainty in her eyes, while Aemond appears composed. Is he wearing his poised assuredness as a facade to conceal his growing distress?

Alicent's dejected expression reveals her inner turmoil. Much like Adam, she too is dismayed by the possibility that one of her sons is dead, and the other is responsible. How did a life of duty, sacrifice, piety, and devotion lead to this? How wasn't she able to prevent it?

"Alas, both for the deed and for the cause! O sight of terror, foul and ugly to behold, horrid to think, how horrible to feel!" [Book XI, 461-465]

Alicent gives one last glare to Aemond before she departs. She is afraid of him and what he has become: another dangerous and violent man in her life. Does the sight of him so much repulse her or does she find the mere thought of him as a kinslayer unbearable?

As Alicent leaves to tend to Aegon whose life might be over, Aemond is left alone on that vantage point. His battle impulses having cooled down, does he now perhaps get to see the bigger picture of what he attempted to do? Does he feel some remorse over the act that he buries deep within because it is too horrible to feel it, too foul and ugly to let it show?

"Death thou hast seen in his first shape on man; but many shapes of Death, and many are the ways that lead to his grim Cave, all dismal" [Book XI, 466-469]

The coffin that carries Aegon like Death that carries Cain in Paradise Lost, is transported through various rooms. As he is being slowly led to the King's room that will soon become his reclusive cave, Aegon's ascension up the stairs mirrors Helaena who climbed them up in 2x02, after Jaehaerys' funeral. At that time, they did not speak but exchanged a glance of mutual understanding. This time, it is Aegon who finds Helaena at the top of the stairs, waiting for him.

"Yet to sense more terrible at th' entrance than within. Some, as thou sawest, by violent stroke shall die, by Fire" [Book XI, 470-472]

Did Helaena foresee Aegon's predicament in one of her many visions? Has she penned his new deformed shape in one of her sketches on the walls? Without uttering a word, Helaena understands what befell Aegon. She knows he has been burned by dragonfire. Once again, words are redundant; just a look is enough.

"So must thou live, till like ripe Fruit thou drop [...] in thy blood will reign a melancholy damp of cold and dry to weigh thy spirits down, and last consume the Balme of Life" [Book XI, 535-546]

And yet, as she stares at Aegon who is taken into the King's chamber, Helaena offers a small glimpse into her psyche. She cannot help but worry for him, but maybe she already knows that his life is not in danger. Maybe she already knows that he will survive longer than her. Will his maiming further contribute to her melancholy and spiral her to madness? Will she completely break an already frail Aegon to pieces when she takes her own life?

One thing is certain: he and she will never be the same.

Her whole family has been abruptly kicked out of the Garden of Eden, and the pangs of suffering have begun. Any Paradise they could have had is lost forever.

And she knew this was coming all along.

[libidomechanica]

“Said Margaret stood undisturb her prayers with a stony British stare”

A rispetto sequence

               1

His breast, and oft amazed stands; but his ease. I said the charm if any take off shoes. ’ Said Margaret stood undisturb her prayers with a

stony British stare. And well remember lover his winters be eighty, hath won the same harpy. With whom their fellow! All the rest?

               2

Most music, am banish’d. But Juan who had misled the faith of the soul in mind though full perfect musical of my Robe of glass

not all unlike—it seeks delay; then sudden changed, and watch a full soul, abhorring avarice. With words Sir Leoline! Remembered stars.

               3

Tis a grape. To strive, more time it will these the haunted for an Hermitage. Mother, as those follies had run dry. The Pythian of the

sea lifts, also, thought, a fit of a solemn bird; nor sees; rolled her babe the tenth or twentieth name was John. To eye that cheerly swum.

               4

Or do the Parliament and smiled Neptune felt. And as in us lie dejected, and thus spake words she sped, when nights betters to brides.

The entire world of great worth their show; their first-born and I will thy Piety nor Wit shall she now conceit of thine own sorrow.

               5

Are spurn’d by one that does no harm. I waste not the last—the sun that by the gossip rout. It lasted too long. In its sunny glade—there

seen many cease to be such credit like a snare. Not a red balloon bursting in my face to discuss pretend to and from her heart.

               6

Gulf on gulf on gulf of desire! And several people’s trust. Hearts, which dost thou, and in low tones, yet doubts: they have the rushes to

be outdone, with his train: her Lord him with grayish leaves of my head who pierc’d thy innocent, so mild; the enamoured rustic love.

               7

Oh Khalífah, hear my lamentation dar’d to your face. The lady bowed, and take a nap in a corner-stones, to an idle matter,

or all her sad and loyal scratching and withdrawn his story score, oh, not only his—acquainted, or rather bloody Frenchman!

               8

And Centaur Nessus garb of mortar already in the Wise to take the inner clown is full of promise, protestation; her hands,

feet, an’ shape complexion while I stood, and them not. Words to spare. To prove a thing in the progress of generous, just as he can do.

               9

Was throwes, biting myself with soft enamoured rustic town set in all the very sure to take such notice of frantic, howe’er

he married, and all that pastimes Times iourney should sell flesh, as you’d coax a vampire. For these may penetrate. A curious gold.

               10

Of Cantos up to Thee—take things work and she meant to find names of the true! But how she, as well fill up the same thou waited her to

dress yellowing, nor we alone on the thing of that she stepping out, he on the blossom: a thing when life in a big girl’s blouses.

               11

And all them wild freaks of mercy was. The stormy day her tatter’d, Baba pause before my eyes prest at the Close of Ramazán, ere

the tongues. Can it be so. Shore, where eagles hide their usual Origin of mortal stone, and leaves of continence, the class was she.

               12

His admired or fair or wise beyond the gods decrees of a suburb hill, deafening the foeman out. Sober and another lot

had made it bright eyes when in her with his two captive nymphs and stormed and erasèd. Marveling: for the blue noon is not so soon revealed.

               13

Sweet Love while don Juan had hatch’d, silent rain-drops silver lamp burns bright green sea agate spreads them through the good endurance. Examined by

all their with stone, I sought by elements sweet flowers distinctly, might make it in the sky; fairer than see, the moan through a hundred.

               14

Witty, and cunningly he cravat; for they were so long somewhere and for none of the hilts? The fresh bleeding on yellow saints to this

fair unknown, and take the sandhills of glass, half pedantic, howe’er he got him, at length, her, myself instead of death which I behold.

               15

And the lady’s prison-wall to heartily then and happy melody, with never forgetting traverse of a soul, assays, loving,

to changed my should be, the eternal, infinite brain? And now there we go: but what was stung by your refuses burden of man?

               16

To shield of corn bows all they ne’er be princes at my hand; in touching like the love, into that it teaches—Heaven known that no man

knows he makes us feel of fairy, which to my head! Your breasts and the best pray, and leave to rise. Can’t form men to gaze o’er land: they straight!

               17

The mastiff old lay fast as I walk’d with wailing star-light which makes me sick, weak, paranoid. By this, but the most likely to be

transmitted, like flower? And the Cash in hand, though the figure was, and with a merry with him an’ wrack him, until Death and Morning weeds.

               18

That masked their blacks were will buy me a new ass spake seemed a troop of soldiery to my absent presence to a book, so to her here?

Meanwhile, and sense does nor good name and there’s the bright did me kiss, I put bees in my dream? I guess, of what you leave behind his way!

               19

I returnest home, he had snatch’d so good as Fort Knox. There lives in brass. I rose and St. That Theotormon’s limbs: he rolling Heaven’s lighted

thence: he, dying laterally, should strike with so curious gold. Have to go thro’ thy panting so, with all her badly she sees!

               20

Imagining of gods and cubs to ducks and cave and neck. Better be merry wine, sweet wine, which saw all wet, shaking though soon life’s race,—

because acts are dext’rous; some better Moon and I need courteous to an angry Sister of the wind: besides the brown earthly thing.

               21

Ourselves: I’ll serve me something but a becalméd bark, whose touch he lay! A crowd of shadowy mood; I was young charnel; fear and forth willow

boughs joined by the incidents uncharactered, a tale distress, and the moral to the present all was for Heaven is chang’d.

               22

The One remaining, and the twelve for there is not the lady wiped her pleasure still am learning to like, bond or fret at all. No

doubt this, if ought not performed of late your time and thine eyes, and all worlds, until their burning. But long tresses ready: fire to become.

               23

’ But what mountain rocks. Or do you curtted Spartanes imitate? And Fancy, in all, what damned minutes for you! It sinks, the broad waking,

but by no means to press most comment on matches. Amid the youth with more merit hath her return us two for once in vogue!

               24

The most useless rocks, and you love that moaneth bleak? Almost pyramidic pride: two palms Bob Acres’ valour oozed, so celebrated

for damages, for the same to try if I can do. ’ Hooks: some day the warm blood, even me, a maid in tones abrupt, austerities?

               25

As she sought. The common tale, and feeds on, and trees, beasts in envy master toyed supporters, and teaches soon as Crowner’s quest’ allow’d

as if these may be something but the blacks were rather drawn from Latmus’ mount I lay, of pale year wake year gone to the true believe it?

               26

Besides the closed well. They fell: methinks, not of any Mussulman, who first Christabel her features are banquet-room, for on that fire

a riding which lent his wrong—unless it shoulders all thy Piety nor Wit shall I see, sweet dream, far less can never pass away.

               27

Sufficiently’ he said, for my part of Hero much of cold philosophy display’d; and now I sate with her busy with his who

gathers have close, as thy lovely lady’s maid. Was her silken skilled the ocean of bitterness. But sadness, to that he plots again.

               28

Let thickest misletoe: she passed, there brew’d from the brother’s love tunes its head at my half-self, for our money is Aladdin’s lamp. Where the

low, there and around the lamplighted their hopes from the pages of this pair so small with their hate the pains of an immortality.

               29

At first path to go, her spirit pouring their light vapour. Or else to see, like one sigh to sorrow and she only constancy lives

in the nights, with frost which had e’er infected and loath to gaze upon, as he ought to stray, and clasped his knife heaven be praise in law.

               30

Vastly now pair in fact to mind it, there was not to be very well: where wert thou love me. A lawn, vegetable puncheons call’d as being

desperate dandy, the sun had set somewhat dirty diplomatic hands, and of such puree, our waiters, and then, you scarce palls.

               31

The selfsame day and as I walk’d with it, Follow, such familiarly do I perceiv’d, spread smiled on the boys: the figure, and slays, and

sit in honour be ascribed their dusty Face lighting sea of goodness resolved like a short sweet harmony. But when the same, for all.

[bellemorte180]

YOU WERE TAKING CHRISTMAS PROMPTS AND I DIDNT KNOW 😭😭.

Did you announce it in the chat??? I dont think you did I just checked but YEAH GIRL WTF NOT COOL. I don't open tumblr for one day and I miss THIS [smacks you with my santa cap]

Are you still taking prompts?? please tell me you are, I d c if you aren't I'm playing the Wife Card YOU CAN'T SAY NO TO THY WIFE.

please gimme 🤲Caroline trying to force Hybrid Klaus into taking part in any dumb but cute Christmas Tradition of your choice Also Bonus points if they end up snuggling and Klaus is being a cuddle monster.

love you <3

“This is ridiculous.” Klaus muttered as he was dressed in the plethora of velvet red. The white beard was in his hand and suddenly he was regretting agreeing to do this in the first place. He knew why, seeing a baby vampire that he loved on her knees, peering up at him with his cock in her mouth would get him to agree to just about anything.

But playing Santa?

“It will be fun!” Caroline cried, coming out from the bathroom dressed as an elf, covered in green and red. Her hair hung loose around her face and a hat perched on her head. Her shoes had bells on them that jingled as she walked. “And it is for a good cause!  It will help the orphans that you caused by going on that rampage last month.”

“The witches were plotting against me!” Klaus defended, tired of having to argue the point over and over again. It was bad enough that Elijah lectured him when he returned home covered in blood. It was a type of red that he did not mind being covered in. He would much rather be covered in entrails than even consider wearing this red suit ever again.

“Someone is always plotting against you.” Caroline told him, causing him to groan. She was not wrong. Klaus knew that at some point, someone was going to try and come after him, which was in truth, very annoying. Especially since Caroline showed up on his doorstep fifty years ago and his enemies thought that she could be used as a pawn. Jokes on them though, because one kidnapping attempt had an entire warehouse filled with the corpses of the werewolf pack that attempted to harm her

And that was before he located her.

“I am the-”

“Almighty hybrid. People shake in fear at the sound of your name and yada yada yada. I know.” Caroline rolled her eyes, practically prancing towards him, the sound of bells following her. She peered down at him with that wide smile that mingled with an annoyed expression on her face. “Please. Just this once try and not be yourself. Put the beard on, spend a few hours making kids smile and then we can come home. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You better.” Klaus grumbled, reaching for her and pulling her down on his lap. Caroline went willingly, laughing hysterically as she went. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rested her head on his chest. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her ridiculous hat. “We are not leaving  the bed tomorrow, at all. My siblings can postpone Christmas for a day because if I am going to put on this stupid suit and be around little demons all day-”

“Children Klaus. They are called children.”

“Same thing.”

“Not really.” Caroline laughed and pulled away to stand but Klaus pulled her back down onto his lap. “Holding me here is not going to prevent this.” Her response only made Klaus hold her tighter, smirking at her as though he accepted a challenge. “No. No. No. We are NOT doing that right now. Get up. Let's go and I promise to reenact what I did that got you to agree in the first place.” The memory of the swirl of her tongue and the small nips of her teeth against his penis had him loosening his arms. With a wide smile, Caroline gave his lips a small peck. “Thank you. Now, let's go Santa.”

[skyward-floored]

Do you have nicknames for thy Lonks? Or a tidbit of info about them? (Or both???)

Thank you for asking!! I love talking about these dorks :)

So I wrote a whole huge thing out about all of them but then tumblr removed me from the premises and did not save anything. So this took longer to answer then it would have jgfkhsgjdkj

Skyward Sword: Cloud*

Minish cap: Mini

Ocarina of Time and Majora’s mask: Sprite

Link to the past, oracle of ages/seasons and Link’s awakening: Hibiscus

Link between worlds and Tri force heroes: Hue

Original Zelda and adventure of Link: Brownie*

Twilight Princess: Gloam

Four Swords Adventures: Light (along with Shadow)

Windwaker and phantom hourglass: Windy*

Breath of the Wild: Slate

Nicknames with * are ones I haven’t decided I totally like yet and might change. I’m also going to put spirit tracks Link in here (once I get around to playing his game) and possibly the other four swords Link, haven’t decided yet. Hyrule Warriors Link will end up in here too, but there’s plot stuff about him I don’t want to spill too much about.

Here’s some tidbits about them all too!

- Cloud literally just married Zelda like a week ago and is very upset about being yoinked through time. He misses her a lot. Cloud is really nice, and tries to always be kind, but if he gets mad he gets mad.

- Mini is only ten and a half and really mature for his age. (Arguably more then some of the older Links) He’s also surprisingly innocent despite his maturity and the fact he could easily kill a man if he so wished

- Sprite is on this adventure with grim acceptance and a refusal to get close to any of the rest of the heroes. This is the fourth time he’s dealt with time shenanigans (war of ages is in there) and is so tired.

- Hibiscus is one of the Responsible Ones, the most experienced, and is one of the best medics in the group. He’s hoping this adventure will help him out of the depressive state funk he’s been in since Koholint.

- Hue’s a blacksmith apprentice who pays more attention to clothing then nearly anyone else (except maybe Slate). ‘Clothes make the man’ is his motto, and he always dresses for the occasion. Also the tips of his hair are still green from when he was in Hytopia, and he thinks it looks good for some reason.

- Brownie is a rather anxious guy, a little on the paranoid side actually. But he’s really nice once he gets over his paranoia, and the most magically adept out of all of them. Also the only brunette, which annoys him a bit.

- Gloam is another Responsible One, and rather protective of all the younger Links. (which most of them don’t mind but Sprite despises) He’s surprisingly chaotic for being so responsible, and has a feral streak that mostly shows itself when he’s a wolf. He got his nickname from Slate who heard the word from Zelda and thought it sounded cool. Also Gloam was sick of being called ‘Wolf Guy’.

- Light has an eye that’s red and blue and another that’s green and purple, and sometimes his mood changes a little sporadically. Despite these oddities he’s one of the best team players they have, and Hue is so happy to have someone who agrees with him on teamwork.

- Windy has a mischievous streak a mile wide and is very upbeat, but there’s a side of him that’s very serious that occasionally shows itself. His big brother tendencies make him worry sometimes about the younger Links, but he’s not that old himself so he doesn’t push it. Also occasionally he meows. Gloam isn’t sure wether to bark at him or try to pick him up.

- Slate’s a bit of a mess. He thinks this whole problem with the Yiga is his fault, and despite the fact that none of the other Links blame him (except maybe Sprite) he’s determined to set this right. He’s close with Gloam (knew him as a helpful wolf on his quest) and waffles between being quiet and feral. There’s no inbetween.

[kaijudyke]

hello my friends! as you may or may not be aware i have a healthy obsession with the ballad of tam lin, and today i would like to talk to you about the abundance of parallels between tam lin and star trek deep space nine s02e22 the wire! i will be summarizing the ballad for you so you do not need to be familiar with it! strap in for a long analysis and join me under the cut 💖

1. a summary of the ballad in broad strokes

(all excerpts in this section from child 39A)

tam lin is a scottish folktale about a young woman named janet who goes to the forest of carterhaugh, which is known to be guarded by a fairy called tam lin.

O I forbid you, maidens a', That wear gowd on your hair, To come or gae by Carterhaugh, For young Tam Lin is there.

(janet is aware of this, and goes anyway. one of my favorite running themes in the ballad is janet being incredibly headstrong and cocky.) she picks a few roses, he appears and tells her to stop, she stands up to him, and they end up sleeping together (and, ostensibly, falling in love). she returns home to her father's castle pregnant. her father and the other men at the castle are very concerned about her pregnancy, but she defies them and tells her father that this is her own responsibility and that she'd rather be with tam lin than any human nobleman:

If that I gae wi child, father, Mysel maun bear the blame, There's neer a laird about your ha, Shall get the bairn's name. If my love were an earthly knight, As he's an elfin grey, I wad na gie my ain true-love For nae lord that ye hae.

janet goes back to carterhaugh to pick abortifacient herbs and terminate the pregnancy, since she believes she and tam lin will never be able to be together. tam lin reappears and asks her to stop, and she asks him to tell her more about himself (in many versions she asks him if he's a christian), looking for any reason not to give up on him:

"Why pu's thou the rose, Janet, Amang the groves sae green, And a' to kill the bonny babe That we gat us between?" "O tell me, tell me, Tam Lin," she says, "For's sake that died on tree, If eer ye was in holy chapel, Or christendom did see?"

he tells her that he's human like her, but was taken by the fairy queen as a child. he also says that the fairies pay a tithe to hell every seven years, and he's worried this time they're going to sacrifice him. he tells her how to save him: she must be at miles cross at midnight on all hallow's eve, when the fairies ride by, and she must pull him down from his horse and hold on to him as the fairies change his shape several times.

"They'll turn me in your arms, lady, Into an esk and adder, But hold me fast, and fear me not, I am your bairn's father. "They'll turn me to a bear sae grim, And then a lion bold, But hold me fast, and fear me not, And ye shall love your child. "Again they'll turn me in your arms To a red het gand of airn, But hold me fast, and fear me not, I'll do you nae harm. "And last they'll turn me in your arms Into the burning gleed, Then throw me into well water, O throw me in with speed. "And then I'll be your ain true-love, I'll turn a naked knight, Then cover me wi your green mantle, And hide me out o sight."

(the exact details of the transformations vary between versions, but some of the most common shapes he has to go through are adder, newt, lion, hot coal, and burning iron. if you're interested in the variations, i highly recommend this page!) once the transformations are done, he instructs her to wrap him in her green cloak, after which the fairies won't have a claim to him anymore. janet follows his instructions and successfully saves him, much to the dismay of the fairy queen.

2. janet, julian, and their relationships

whichever version of tam lin you are reading, janet is a character with a ton of agency. she has no qualms about encroaching on tam lin's territory (in fact she tells him in no uncertain terms that the forest is hers), and there is some indication that she might have gone to carterhaugh specifically because she wanted to sleep with tam lin; she's said to be wearing a green dress, and since the color green was associated with the fae, wearing green to a fairy wood is pretty clearly inviting their attention. (in medieval literature, green was also sometimes associated with love and sex.)

it's not hard to draw a parallel between janet's decision to pursue tam lin despite the danger he represents and julian's immediate fascination with garak in past prologue even though (or rather because) he suspects him to be a spy. also of note is that janet and tam lin's relationship begins with an argument, where her willingness to challenge him seems to be what draws him to her. one of my favorite retellings, by james p. spence, emphasizes this:

‘I'm here tae guard these woods, tae see that naebodie nor nothing disturbs their peace.’ ‘An was it ma father that gave ye such a job?’ ‘Naw it wasnae.’ ‘Weel, there ye are then. It should be you that's asking ma permission tae set foot in these woods, because it is ma father that owns them.’ Then the young man's face rose up intae a smile that seemed many a long year since it was last there. (scottish borders folk tales, james p. spence, p. 114-115)

i'm sure i don't need to tell you that this is reminiscent not only of garak and julian's fondness for debate but of the way cardassians show romantic interest. more than that, though, i think there's something to be said for the way these relationships are treated by other people in the characters' lives. janet's father and his knights are troubled by her pregnancy, and they clearly think she should be with a normal, respectable man, preferably one of said knights, given that she feels the need to remark "There's neer a knight about your ha / Shall hae the bairnie's name." (child 39I) in the wire, when julian tells jadzia he wishes garak would trust him, she replies "why should he? it's not like the two of you are really friends." julian's friends do not understand why he spends so much time with garak—a cardassian, a spy, an outcast, someone who can't be trusted.

in both cases it's easy enough to see where they're coming from; being pregnant out of wedlock with a fairy's child is certainly not an ideal situation for a young noblewoman to find herself in, and it's remarkably foolish for a starfleet officer to have regular lunch dates with someone he believes to be an enemy spy. but janet and julian are both stubborn, and more interested in what's adventurous and exciting than what's good for them. (remember that, like janet knowingly going to pick roses in a forest guarded by fairies, julian wanted the position on ds9 because he wanted to try his hand at "frontier medicine"; misguided as he may have been, his thirst for adventure is the reason he's even on the station to begin with.)

3. fairyland, the obsidian order, and enabran tain

in the ballad, tam lin is abducted by the fairy queen when he's a child. she takes him to a magical realm where he feels no pain and is far removed from human worries.

And we that live in faeryland, No sickness know, nor pain, I quit my body when I will, And take to it again. (j. holm, verse 32)

garak has been enabran tain's protégé since he was very young. as an operative of the obsidian order, he's been trained to be cool under pressure, to play his cards close to his chest, and to avoid sentimentality and attachment. the plot of the episode hinges entirely on a device implanted in his brain that keeps him from feeling pain. to save his life, julian has to remove the implant, metaphorically rescuing him from fairyland and the influence of the queen who stole him away from the human world. the fairy queen is very possessive of tam lin and very disdainful of his feelings for janet; in many versions of the ballad, after janet successfully rescues him, the fairy queen remarks that if she'd known this would happen, she would have plucked out his eyes and replaced them with wood, or taken his heart and replaced it with stone.

"But had I kend, Tam Lin," said she, "What now this night I see, I wad hae taen out thy twa grey een, And put in twa een o tree." (child 39A, verse 42) 'Had I but kend, Thomas,' she says, 'Before I came frae hame, I had taen out that heart o flesh, Put in a heart o stane.' (child 39B, verse 41)

much like tain tried and failed to mold garak into the perfect emotionless spy, the fairy queen very literally wants to remove tam lin's ability to feel love, because his emotions make him harder for her to control, and in the end are what lead him to escape her clutches entirely. garak and tam lin are both saved by the same thing: their transgressive love for their rescuer, and the fierce, unconditional love they receive in return.

4. hold me fast and fear me not

the central event of the tam lin ballad, of course, is the transformation scene. i'm sure it's what makes the ballad stick in people's minds; it certainly is for me. there's something so deeply romantic about the phrase "hold me fast and fear me not," and about the idea of loving someone so much that you'll hold on to them even as they turn into a beast in your arms. the wire doesn't have as literal a transformation scene as tam lin, but i would argue that it certainly has one.

after julian removes garak's implant (which we can equate to pulling tam lin down from his horse), garak goes through withdrawal. he becomes, by turns, depressed, and angry, and spiteful, and violent. throughout the episode, we see him try to drive julian away. he refuses his help; he insults him; he tells him contradictory stories about his past, all designed to shock him; when none of this succeeds at discouraging him, he physically lashes out.

julian, however, doesn't budge. he isn't fooled by the shapes garak contorts himself into. he takes every change in stride, never wavering in his determination to save him. every person garak claims to be, julian accepts. like janet defying the fairy queen for love of tam lin, he goes as far as to enter cardassian territory and seek out enabran tain in order to save garak's life. when he believes he's about to die, garak tells julian he needs to know that someone forgives him; "i forgive you," julian says, "for whatever it is you did." whatever kind of beast garak is—whatever kind of beast tain has turned him into—julian will not let go of his hand. he will hold him fast.

He grew into her arms two Like iron in hot fire; She held him fast, let him not go, He was her heart's desire. (child 39D, verse 31)

the basic structure of these stories is the same: the main character finds out that the person they love is in immediate danger due to something they went through when they were younger, which fundamentally changed them as a person and is also keeping the two from being together. unwilling to lose their love, they brave the wrath of a powerful villain who's controlled this person's life for a long time. there are undeterred by the frightening changes the person goes through. in the end, they are victorious, and their beloved is free.

5. my dear doctor, they're all true

a closing statement: tam lin is a folktale. like any folktale, there are many, many versions of it, often contradicting each other. there is no definitive version of tam lin (though child 39A may be the most famous). you're free to read every available version of the story, finding meaning not only in the most commonly reoccurring themes, but also in which parts of the text speak to you. like garak's contradictory stories about his life, while it's hard to say whether any one element is true, every element tells you something—about the story, or about the person who tells it. my view of these story parallels is heavily influenced by my own personal interpretation of, and feelings about, the ballad. as it should be.

[hasspartacusdoneanythingwrong]

The Century War of Wyverns: Prologue

God, it's been a while since we actually did longer writing on this blog, huh? Yeah, we're finally back, going through the old singularities. Don't expect much different in this part, since it's before we even get to France, but we hope you'll enjoy it anyway.

We'll have to set right what once went wrong, but first, things have to go pretty freaking wrong for it to count as a singularity. How wrong, you may ask? Let's find out!

Also, CWs: Religious Themes, Blood, Death

(The next part is here)

Footsteps rang down the corridor, the clatter of metal on stone. A grim young woman, dressed in chains and blackened armor, strode towards the central chamber of the castle. A spear was thrown casually over her shoulder. The screams had long since died down, but the metallic stench of blood still permeated the building. A fitting place for the beginning of the end, she supposed.

She entered the ritual room and was greeted by a scrawny man cloaked in dark robes. She sneered at him as he gave a report on the ritual. The sycophant was infuriating, but useful.

For now though, the ritual was ready: she had more important things to worry about. The man led her to the appropriate spot in the twisted mass of sigils and equations marked upon the floor. He then moved to his own position and began chanting. The woman invoked the incantation, as practiced.

“Heed my words. My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny. If you heed the Grail’s call, and obey my will and reason, then answer me.”

A bright white light seeped out of the golden chalice in the center of the magic circle, tracing the lines drawn on the ground. As the light grew more intense, a wind picked up, pushing everything in the room away from its center. Everything but the cup and the woman.

���I hereby swear. That I shall defeat all evil in the world. But let thine eyes be clouded with the fog of turmoil and chaos. Thou art trapped in a cage of madness, and I the summoner who holds thy chains.”

The light suddenly shifted to crimson red, and the wind picked up speed. The woman had to shout the final lines of incantation to be heard over the gale.

“Seventh heaven clad in the great words of power! Come forth from the circle of binding, Guardian of the Scales!”

The tangle of light coalesced into seven points, fading into seven human figures. She addressed each of them in turn.

“Berserk Saber,” A young woman dressed in a pastel suit with a flowing white cape. She brandished a fencing rapier, giving it a few experimental swings.

“Berserk Archer,” Another woman, dressed in green. Her ears and tail twitched with discomfort as she glared at the rest of the assembly. Her longbow scraped the paneling of the floor beneath her feet.

“Berserk Lancer,” A pale man dressed in rich furs. He let a silver spear rest upon the ground as he looked around him, unimpressed.

“Berserk Rider,” A purple haired woman dressed in a veil and chainmail. She fidgeted with her staff as the black armored woman turned to her, struggling with herself.

“Berserk Caster,” A slight man in a black suit. He would be rather handsome, if not for the mask covering half his face.

“Berserk Assassin,” An older woman, wearing a mask and a fine red dress. She was surrounded by chains and spiked metal. She could barely contain herself at the sight of Saber, Archer, and Rider.

“And True Berserker.” A white-haired man in executioner’s garb. He polished his sword at a feverish pace.

“Thank you for coming, my fellow servants. I am your master. You know why you were summoned, yes?”

She looked around at the assembly.

“Destruction and slaughter, those are your orders. If a city is reveling in spring, destroy it. If a town is celebrating the new year, devastate it. No matter how evil or cruel, God will forgive your every transgression. Should He mete out punishment, that is fine in its own way. For this is no more than a means of proving God’s existence and His love.”

“Now, Gilles, bring him here.”

The man in black robes -Gilles- bowed. “Of course, my saint!” He ran out of the room. He returned shortly with another old man in tow, this one wearing extravagant white and red robes.

Gilles giggled as he pulled the man forward. “What do you wish done with this one, my saint? If I may be so bold, I do have a few suggestions.”

The woman in black sighed. “Please, Gilles, you’re ruining the moment.” With the source of her aggravation silenced, she took a split second to compose herself.

“Bishop Pierre Cauchon!” The woman in black armor greeted the new arrival. “It’s only been three days, but I can promise you not a second went by where I did not think of you! How has France been in my absence?”

The man simply stood there, wide-eyed and slicked in a sheen of sweat. He gave a few stutters, but coherence simply refused to leave his mouth.

Undeterred, the woman in black continued to taunt him. “Ah non, your excellency! This simply won’t do! Are you telling me you have already forgotten the face of Jeanne d’Arc?”

The bishop’s voice finally found him, and he screamed, “No, that’s impossible, she’s dead! This- This can’t be happening! It has to be a dream….”

Jeanne’s face fell. “Gilles, please make sure our guest doesn’t leave reality entirely, would you?”

Gilles brought his hand up to the bishop’s face. His sleeve fell away, revealing a twisted piece of metal wrapped around his wrist. He brushed it against the bishop’s face, leaving scratches that quickly began to bleed. The old man certainly didn’t calm down, but the feeling of his own blood dripping into his hands forced him to face the reality of the situation.

Jeanne smiled as the bishop’s situation sank into his expression. “Now that you are back with us, your excellency, it is time for your test. Here you stand at the gates of hell,” she gestured to the servants encircling them, “surrounded by demons, no less! Fortunately for you, I am nothing if not a devout follower of His word, so I offer you this one chance: pray to Him. For if He is to stay our hand, if He has judged this France worthy of existence, He must do so now.”

The bishop immediately fell to his knees, letting out wracking sobs. “P-please…”

“Hmm?” Jeanne d’Arc eyed him expectantly.

“Please, spare me!” He cried as he crawled towards Jeanne, snot-nosed and openly weeping. “Please! I’ll do whatever it is you wish; I beg of you! Please!”

Jeanne d’Arc kicked him away. He landed heavily a few feet back, still sobbing. “So, you pray to Jeanne d’Arc before you pray to God? Unfortunately for you, I am not a merciful god, nor do I accept indulgences. You beg for the aid of a heathen, and that makes you a heathen as well.”

A sickening smile crawled its way across Jeanne’s lips. “And you know very well the punishment for such a crime, don’t you?”

Somehow, the bishop’s face grew even paler as he scrambled to escape the room. Before he could even get to his feet, Jeanne d’Arc slammed the butt of her spear against the ground. Immediately, dozens of identical spears burst from the ground around the bishop, all set to skewer him. At the same time, a gout of fire rose from the ground, enveloping him completely. He was less than ash before a single spear pierced him.

Jeanne scowled. “That was disappointing. You all know your orders, it is time to spread this despair to the rest of France.”

“My saint-“ Gilles stepped in, “What shall I do with the other members of the clergy?”

“Let them go, Gilles.”

Gilles balked. “You can’t be serious!” he spluttered. “They are the ones who sent you to die! What about their punishment!” He whined like an impetuous child.

Jeanne gave a mirthless grin. “Oh, I never said anything about letting them live. I simply want to see how well our new servants hunt.”

Gilles immediately lit up. “Haha! Of course, my saint! I shall see to it at once!” He cackled as he ran out of the room, eager to fulfill her orders.

Jeanne addressed her servants once again. “Go on, make a show of it. And save room for the main course.”

Screams of all kinds filled the castle as its grounds turned into a slaughterhouse once again. The mad servants easily cornered the terrified clergy, and-

Then we woke up.

[weshallc]

BERNS NIGHT (Revisited) 

Call the Midwife AU Crown Jewels fic (this one actually has Bernie in! She must have been in panto or something in January missed a few chapters)

CHAPTER FOUR: There In Thy Scanty Mantle Clad.

“There, in Thy Scanty Mantle Clad, Thy Snawie Bosom Sunward Spread.” To a Mountain Daisy by Robert Burns 1786

"I Hear Your Footsteps in the Streets, it Won't Be Long Until We Meet. It's Obvious." Oblivious by Aztec Camera 1983

 “Ouch, be careful!”

“Well stand still, Paddy,” Trixie scolded, “and I won’t accidentally prick you.”

“Is this really necessary?” whined the publican, not for the first time that hour.

“You want it the right length, don’t you?” admonished the determined dressmaker.

“That’s too short.” Paddy grumbled, swaying unsteadily on the rickety foot stool.

“No, it’s not.”

Patsy interrupted the squabbling confirming the kilt should hang from the top of the hip and finish at the top of the knee.

“This one is too high.” Paddy fiddled with the waistband.

“No, it’s not! It sits at the navel.” Getting up from her knees, Trixie playfully poked Paddy in the belly button.

The temporary male model wasn’t amused, and Delia felt some sympathy. “Right Doc, take it off now, so Chummy can alter it.”

Paddy hopped off the footstool, the green and blue checked woollen garment swaying around his thighs. He grabbed his jeans and headed out of Patsy’s studio towards the downstairs loo. Patsy, Delia and Trixie didn’t wait until he had closed the door behind him before they burst into giggles.

 Saturday 25th January 2020

Bernie wouldn’t want anyone to accuse her of being ungrateful, but she would have much rather spent her birthday at work. To be back in Poplar-on-Tweaven working behind the bar with Paddy rather than traipsing around Newcastle city centre with Trixie.

Saturday’s were usually fun at the Crown. Sundays you could always predict to be busy, due to the temptation of Violet’s Sunday lunches and the let’s have a nice day in the country crowd. Saturday’s were more unpredictable a lot depending on whether there was a match on. The football crowd had made Bernie nervous at first, but she had taken her lead from Val, who seemed to know the right mix between flirting and being one of the lads. She even surprised herself with her knowledge of the offside-rule and recognising a few players when they came in during the off-season.

“So, what about this one?” Trixie’s irritated voice broke through Bernie’s wistfulness. They were standing in Fenwick’s department store. Her friend was holding up a black mini dress bearing a large faint gold and red criss-cross pattern.

“Isn’t it a bit tartanie?” Bernie screwed up her nose.

Trixie tried very hard not to give anything away. “What’s wrong with tartan, your Scottish, don’t you just love tartan?”

Bernie bit her lip and tried to keep a level of calmness in her voice, “I am not that kinda Scottish.”

Trixie clanged the hanger back onto the rail in frustration. Bernie felt a twinge of guilt for exasperating her well-meaning friend.

“I will probably just wear my good jeans and a sparkly top, Trixie.” Bernie tried to reassure, with little success.

“But, Paddy is taking you out somewhere nice tonight, surely you want to look the part?”

Bernie took a deep breath, “The part?...the part of Paddy’s date! I am thinking jeans and a nice wee top will do just fine, Trixie.”

 It was several hours later, Bernie was looking at herself in the oak Cheval mirror in the corner of her bedroom. The little black dress with the red and gold criss-crosses did look quite nice on and it did have pockets, so that was a bonus. She heaved up her 40 denier black tights one last time. Why did they never make the small, small enough? She smiled, knowing if Chummy were in the room she would ask why they didn’t make extra large, extra enough.

A frown reflected back at her as she fiddled with her hair. Trixie had insisted on styling it with a mountain of product she had brought back from Boots. As a result, it now seemed to flick out in all directions. The would-be stylist had been very pleased with the finished article, and Bernie had smiled and made positive noises. She really wanted to put a brush through it and tie it back in a scrunchie like she did most days. Trixie’s sixth sense clicked in and she growled, “Leave it.”

They set out, tottering the short distance from Bernie’s cottage to the Crown Inn. Arm-in-arm, more for stability than out of friendship. Trixie in nine months of living just outside of Poplar had still not mastered walking on cobbles in heels. Bernie more used to ankle boots and trainers had let Trixie talk her into buying a pair of black below-the-knee boots in the January sales. Until today, the labels hadn’t been removed. She was convinced the young saleswoman and her friend had been in collusion. Eventually the overwhelming smell of leather, shoe polish and sweaty feet on an empty stomach had rendered the usually stubborn Bernie vulnerable. Well-honed sales techniques and Trixie’s promise of a Greggs’ vegan sausage roll to offset the purchase of leather eventually triumphed. These boots were definitely not made for walking, Bernie decided. She was however glad of the extra fabric as the north wind whistled around her shorter than usual hem line.

As if sensing her friend's awkwardness, Trixie squeezed her arm a little more tightly. “You look amazing, just don’t scuff those killer, fuck-me boots on the cobbles.”

This warning unsurprisingly had the opposite effect than intended, as Bernie stuttered to an abrupt halt and dropped her friend's arm.

“What?” Bernie shrieked in horror. Trixie grabbed back hold of her stabilizer and dragged her along, laughing so infectiously that Bernie couldn’t help but succumb.

“Why are you so tarted up anyway for a night in the Crown?”

“It’s your birthday and I thought you would be having a drink before heading off with Paddy. Just because it is a country pub doesn’t mean everyone has to always wear wellies and a jumper with a hole in it.”

Bernie’s mock indignation at Trixie’s jibe resulted in a snort as she tried to hold in a laugh. They were still sniggering as Trixie lunged forward and steadied herself by slapping her hand heavily against the inn’s bay window. She pulled herself up and then slapped her hand against the window one more time. Bernie, who was still giggling, just shrugged at her friend's clumsy behaviour.

“Bit slippy there, have to tell Paddy about that.” Trixie straightened up and smiled nervously.

“OK.” Bernie nodded somewhat bemused as she pushed open the large wooden doors of the old inn.

 Bernie later couldn’t recall if it was her eyes that first alerted her that something was different; the darkness giving the game away. Or it could have been her ears as they picked up the deep drone of the bagpipes. Maybe it was neither. Her skin tingling with goosebumps was more than likely the first sign that all was not as it should be.

After that initial physical reaction, her mind seemed to give up trying to make any sense of anything. It all became a blur. She remembered Trixie pushing her in the back and into the bar and placing something around her shoulders. There had definitely been cheering and then a very tuneless rendition of Happy Birthday accompanied by the bagpipes and a small band.

The pipes - bashful Kevin and his wee dog. At first she had thought Paddy or somebody had bought her a pet for her birthday. The poor wee thing was used to sitting and looking cute outside the town hall. Raising a paw every time someone dropped a coin in Kev’s mug. The animal had become a little overwhelmed by the commotion and sheer volume of people. Realizing that the lady who had just come through the door must be somehow responsible for the change in ambience; he could not resist jumping up at the new arrival with great enthusiasm. His owner was horrified, but unsure what was more important; to reprimand his charge or keep playing. Fortunately, the situation was resolved when a large pair of hands gently scooped up the tiny mongrel and calmed him down by whispering in his ear and letting him lick his face.

Bernie remembered Violet telling Reggie to take the excited guest through the back for a biscuit. The commotion had given Bernie time to take it all in, the low lighting, the table centres made up of thistles and blue and purple hyacinths, each with a thick white candle, flames dancing a jig on every table. The black, royal blue and red tartan tablecloths and a larger trestle table covered with a different checked pattern, a lighter blue and green with gold.

Bernie wasn’t given long to take it all in, as she was overwhelmed by hugs and kisses. Mostly from people she knew like the Noakes’, Fred, Jane, Phyllis and Julia along with a few she didn’t know, which was a bit disconcerting. Along with the displays of affection, cards and packages that were also pressed into her. Finding it very difficult to accept all the hugs from her friends and free herself from those who weren’t, Bernie found it impossible to balance all the gifts too. Fortunately Trixie had been prepared for this and took on the role of a lady-in-waiting, as if Bernie had suddenly been crowned the Princess of Poplar. The village's newest resident relished her role as best friend, relieving Bernie of her burdens as swiftly as she received them. Trixie may have had a colourful life, but she did like to be of use.

It was Val who finally rescued her from the wall of wellwishers. Taking Bernie by the hand, she took her behind the bar and up the stairs to the living accommodation. “Are you ready for your present?”

Exasperated by the recent unexpected events and not knowing what to expect next, Bernie just shrugged her shoulders. Secretly she was enjoying the calm of the Turner flat and not being the centre of attention. Val gave her a quick squeeze and told her, “Happy birthday, chick.” Opening the door to Paddy’s living room she added winking,

“You’re welcome.”

[barinacraft]

Hot Toddy Drink - Far East Of Scotland Long Before The Cocktail

The Toddy Was Hot Before The Cocktail Became Old Fashioned

Or cold maybe. Point is, the Toddy, hot or cold, was old-fashioned before the Old Fashioned was ever even fashioned.

Although many, including ourselves, associate the Toddy with whisk(e)y, honey, lemon juice, hot water and maybe some nutmeg, cloves or cinnamon, technically its just whisky, sugar and H2O. Add some bitters and you have an Old Fashioned which, ingredient-wise, is the very definition of a cocktail.*

History Of The Toddy

A British Chaplain Travels With The East India Trading Company

The earliest reference to the word Toddy may have been when it was included in the notes observed by Edward Terry, then Chaplain to the Right Honorable Sir Thomas Row, Knight, Lord Ambassador to the Great Mogul, in 1615-1619 during his Voyage To East India.†  These records later became published as a book of the same name in 1655.

Liquor From The Toddy Tree

“And here I cannot choose but take notice of a very pleasant and clear liquor, called Toddy, issuing from a spongy tree, that grows straight and tall without boughs to the top, and there spreads out in tender branches, very like unto those that grow from the roots of our rank and rich artichokes, but much bigger and longer. This toddy-tree is not so big, but that it may be very easily embraced, and the nimble people of that country will climb up as fast to the top thereof (the stem of the tree being rough and crusty) as if they had the advantage of ladders to help them up. In the top tender branches of those trees they make incisions which they open and stop again as they please, under which they bang pots made of large and light gourds, to preserve the influence which issues out of them in a large quantity in the night season, they stopping up those vents in the heat of the day.

“That which thus distills forth in the night, if it be taken very early in the morning, is as pleasing to the taste as any new white wine, and much clearer than it. It is a very piercing, medicinal, and inoffensive drink, if taken sooner in the day, only it is a little windy; but if it be kept later until the heat of the day, the sun alters it so as if it made it another kind of liquor, for it becomes then very heady, not so well relished, and unwholesome; and when it is so, not a few of our drunken seamen choose to drink it; and I think they so do, because it will then presently turn their brains; for there are too many of the common sort of those men who use the sea, who love those brutish distempers too much, which turn a man out of himself, and leave a beast in the skin of a man.

“But for that drink, if it be taken in its best, and most proper season, I conceive it to be of itself very wholesome, because it provokes urine exceedingly; the further benefit whereof some there have found by happy experience, being thereby eased from their torture inflicted by that shame of physicians, and tyrant of all maladies, the kidney stone. And so cheap too is this most pleasing wine, that a man may there have more than enough for a very little money.” ~ Reverend Edward Terry

Hot Tadi Turns To Hooch

So, if left to ferment in the heat of the day, this “Hot Toddy” becomes an intoxicating liquor and by all accounts also turns sour and bitter like vinegar. Combine this with the age old practice of adding sugars to wine, cider and other beverages to sweeten the taste along with a specific mention in the Accounts of India and China as far back as AD 890 which says of Ceylon (present day Sri Lanka); “Their drink is made of Palm honey boiled and prepared with the Tari (pronounced Tadi), the juice which runs from the tree” and all you need is a little water to complete the recipe.

One theory has Scotsman returning from the Far East embracing the term Toddy as a nickname for an alcoholic drink with those generic ingredients. Just substitute Scotch whisky for fermented tadi, sugar for palm honey and add water.

Scotch Springs Eternal From Tod's Well

A second, more widely accepted theory on the origins of the Hot Toddy (in western culture as opposed to the Far East where it is still alive and well in its historical version there) centers around one of Edinburgh, Scotland's city water sources, Tod's well, affectionately known as Toddy and some early poets' prose. First some history on the Todian spring and then a pair of Scots will wax poetic.

In 1681, Peter Brauss brought water into Edinburgh, Scotland from Tod spring in Comiston through a system engineered by George Sinclair where gravity fed the supply via a series of 3 inch diameter lead pipes built by Robert Mylne.‡, 1 - 2  Comiston springs at Tod's well was located on the Pentland Hills about 3 miles to the south of Edinburgh and the aqua duct originally channeled its flow into five stone wells along High Street, part of the Royal Mile in between the Edinburgh Castle in the heart of the city and Holyrood Palace near Arthur's Seat Volcano, home to a pair of another of the city's spring fed water sources, St. Margaret's and St. Anthony's wells.

The cisterns were located at multiple heights in the Old Town and women 'caddies' would gather to draw water from the wells for their homes. The system was a significant public works project benefiting everyone's health and was later improved in 1720 by increasing the main water pipe from Comiston into the city to a 4 1/2 inch diameter which more than doubled its capacity.

The Morning-Interview. An Heroi-Comical Poem by Allan Ramsay (MDCCXIX)

This 1719 mock heroic ode to courtship which parodies the struggles of a beau hoping to overcome his foe is often cited as a key piece of literature which some say proves the etymological history of the toddy is based in Scotland and not the Far East. In the lead up to the poem's ending shown below, the epic romantic passion is emphasized with great comedic effect.

The ninth stanza both highlights and summarizes the poem's main storyline when Celia awakens to answer the door to her apartment dressed only in the loose attire of her morning gown. Expecting that her cousin Frankalia had come to take her morning tea, her initial pale surprise to see Damon standing there instead turns into a blushing red exchange. Here's the last 3 of the 16 verse stanzas:

A sumptuous Treat does crown the ended War,

And all rich Requisites are brought from far.

The Table boasts its being from Japan,

The ingenious Work of some great Artisan.

China, where Potters coarsest Mold refine,

That Light through the transparent Jar does shine,

The costly Plates and Dishes are from thence,

And Amazonia must her Sweets dispense;

To her warm Banks, our Vessels cut the Main,

For the sweet Product of her luscious Cane;

Here Scotia does no costly Tribute bring,

Only some Kettles full of Todian Spring.3

Where Indus and the Double Ganges flow,

On odoriferous Plains the Leaves do grow;

Chief of the Treat, a Plant the Boast of Fame,

Sometimes called Green, BOHEA's its greater Name.

O happiest of Herbs! Who would not be

Pythagorized into the Form of Thee,

And with high Transports act the Part of TEA?

Kisses on thee the haughty Belles bestow,

While in thy Steams their coral Lips do glow;

The Virtues and thy Flavor they commend;

While Men, even Beaux, with parched Lips attend.

Teetotalling Tod

Much ado has been made about the inclusion of the Todian Spring and how the author specifically calls out in the footnotes that it is in reference to Tod's Well. This has been interpreted as meaning kettles full of Toddy which by association then translates to whisky since the word whisky is derived from water and it was a common custom of the day for whisky to be invoiced as aqua in Scotland.4

But, maybe it actually means just what it says and this is much ado about nothing.

After all, all the other objects mentioned directly relate to those items needed for a tea party. You have a table from Japan, the place setting from China as well as the tea (Bohea is a type of black oolong tea), and sugar from the Amazon river banks in South America. All you need is H2O, so why would the inclusion of actual water from the Todian spring be construed to mean Toddy, therefore meaning whisky?

In fact tea was becoming such a common drink in Scotland that in 1742 Duncan Forbes, Lord Culloden, the President of the Court of Session is quoted as saying, “the meanest families, even of laboring people, particularly in burroughs, make their morning's meal of it, and thereby wholly disuse the ale which heretofore was their accustomed drink; and the same drug supplies all the labouring women with their afternoons' entertainments, to the exclusion of the Twopenny.” 5  The last refers to a Scotch pint of pale ale, the equivalent of two quarts, which sold for two pence each a.k.a twopenny ale.

Another implication of tracing Toddy back to here is that it also suggests waking to whisky was wanton. Was it?

Holy Mother Of Toddy

And finally in 1785, from the garbled Gaelic of Robert Burns, a Scotty speaks of Toddy. In "The Holy Fair," the National Poet of Scotland satirically describes what had become a common phrase in the west of Scotland for the biennial gathering to celebrate the sacramental occasion of communion.6

This was no prim and proper formal ritual either. It was a party, and the often unruly crowds of strangers would sometimes toss decency out the window in exchange for questionable behavior. Wonder if you had to bring your own Toddy or was the bar stocked?

The Holy Fair by Robert Burns

Heres a partial passage from the poem pertaining to the potation:

Leeze me on drink! it gies us mair

Than either school or college;

It kindles wit, it waukens lear,

It pangs us fou o' knowledge:

Be't whisky-gill or penny wheep,

Or ony stronger potion,

It never fails, or drinkin deep,

To kittle up our notion,

By night or day.

The lads an' lasses, blythely bent

To mind baith saul an' body,

Sit round the table, weel content,

An' steer about the toddy:

The Toddy reference here is pretty clear. However, this opens up another question. In the Eucharist or Holy Communion, isn't the blood of Christ supposed to be wine and not whisky? Let's not go there.

Meanwhile, Back In The States

All this talk of Toddy's Scottish heritage is all the more confusing when you consider that the U.S. appears to have beaten them to the (publishing) punch some 35 years earlier. Toddy was the talk of the town in “the July 1750 issue of the Boston Weekly Post Boy, and the ‘fashionable’ Toddy, as the Newport, Rhode Island, Mercury dubbed it in 1764 was a fixture of American tippling for a century or more.” 7

It looks like, at least for now, America lays claim to the first known recipe for the Toddy as well. The American Herbal, or Materia Medica by Samuel Sterns was printed in Walpole, New Hampshire (1801).

Toddy (New Nation punch formula in the Age of Jefferson):

24 oz  water

8 oz  rum or brandy

a little sugar

a little nutmeg

Add the rum or brandy and the sugar to the water, and after stirring, the nutmeg. Author notes that “It is called a salutary liquor, and especially in the summer season, if it is drank with moderation.”

The Toddy Is Well Represented In The First Ever Cocktail Book

There's tons of Toddies in How To Mix Drinks, or The Bon-Vivant's Companion by Jerry Thomas (1862). The Brandy, Gin and Whiskey Toddy, no Rum is included, are all pretty much the same recipe.

[ Insert Name Of Preferred Spirit Here ] Toddy Drink:

2 oz  Brandy, Gin or Whiskey (chosen names the recipe i.e. Gin Toddy)

1 oz  water

1 tsp  sugar

1 small lump of ice

Use a small bar glass and stir with a spoon. The only Hot Toddy specifically called out among these three liquors is for Brandy where you omit the ice and use boiling water instead.

A side note elsewhere in this book under a description of punch has Jerry instructing Hot Toddy / Hot Punch makers that they must put in the spirits before the water. This was moved to the Hints and Rules For Bartenders section, like these home bar how-tos, and was changed to a rapid rinse of hot water first to aid in the prevention of heat cracking the glass in his 1886 Bartender's Guide.

By the time you add in the recipes for Sangarees, Slings & Skins (detailed more below), there are a slew of similar sips with a single standout, the Apple Toddy. Sort of a Hot Apple Pie Cocktail with real fruit filling.

Apple Toddy Drink Recipe:

2 oz  cider brandy or applejack

1 tbs  fine white sugar

½  baked apple

Roast the apples; cored, peeled and cut in half with some sugar and nutmeg; in the oven in a baking pan with boiling water until soft. About 30 minutes at 375 degrees Farenheit. Add the baked apple, sugar and brandy to a small bar glass. Fill ⅔ full of hot water and garnish by grating some nutmeg on top.

Mr. Thomas does give an honorable mention to the Indian intoxicate stating that Arrack, mainly used to flavor punch here in America, improves with age and is used in parts of that country where it is distilled from Toddy, the juice of their native coconut trees.

What's Your Opinion?

So, do you think the alcoholic drink Toddy from Western culture is derived from Tadi, Tod's Well or something Todally different?

A Cure For What Ails You - Depending On What Ails You

Regardless of its origins, a Hot Toddy (or totty) is a classic hot drink for cold days and nights which happens to coincide with the Christmas holidays up north. Its a basic cocktail that's popular in many variations. Perhaps none more so than when adding in the combination of honey and lemon to the drink.

Besides being tasty, the lemon-honey pairing is often recommended as a cure for what ails you, from sore throats to weight loss to colds & flu. Probably better make it a mocktail if you're actually sick though, as burning the bug out with alcohol may do more harm than good according to many in modern medicine. Sort of ironic that the initial Toddy recipe appears for now to have made its debut in a medical journal.

Behind The Bar - How To Mix A Hot Toddy At Home

If you're not sick though, Hot Toddies are a great way to warm up throughout the winter holidays and gives you another excuse to use your seasonal barware. Other than a few other Christmas cocktails and holiday themed drinks, what else are you going to use those fancy glasses decorated with boughs of holly for anyway?

Hot Toddy Recipe:

1 oz  bourbon, rye or scotch whisk(e)y

1 tbp  honey

2 tsp  lemon juice

1 cup  boiling hot water

Preparation - spoon or squeeze the honey into the bottom of your mug. Add the bourbon and juice from about a quarter of a lemon. Fill with hot water well short of rim for easier handling and safe sipping. Garnish with lemon wedge, optionally studded with cloves, cinnamon (sticks or ground), nutmeg, etc. An almost infinite combination of possibilities are available as almost any liquor works well and many substitute hot tea or cider for the boiling water along with different spices. See 5 tips for hot toddies for additional ideas.

BTW - January 11th is National Hot Toddy Day!

What better way to embody the spirit?

Drink Variations and Similar Cocktails

Toddy's Tipple Twins:

Bumbo - a brown sugar, rum Sling that sings Pirate's praises.

Grog - a nautically rooted drink where a sailor's portion of rum was watered down.

Highball - Scotch whisky & carbonated water along with other spirit and soda combos like the Cuba Libre, Gin & tonic, Moscow Mule and the Seven & Seven.

Sangarees - Toddies topped off with a little port wine.

Slings - liquor, water, sugar and nutmeg.

Skins - a Toddy with a twist or piece of lemon peel added.

More Hot Drinks For Home Bar Hosts:

Eggnog - a frothy holiday favorite.

Glogg - hot mulled Christmas wine.

Hot Buttered Rum - toddy's cocktail cousin?

Wassail - hot apple ale blesses the crop for the coming new year.

References

* - Minus the typical orange and cherry fruit salad many modern old-fashioned recipes [sic] like to muddle into the drink.

† - The original passage was written using the long 's' which looks like the letter f. Those old-fashioned ligatures along with some older word spellings were converted to reflect modern writing so they would be easier to read. As an example of both instances, choose was written as chufe in seventeenth century English.

‡ - The History of Edinburgh by William Maitland (1753) via The Statistical Account of Scotland Drawn Up From The Communications of the Ministers of the Different Parishes by Sir John Sinclair (1791).

1 - Castlehill Cistern. Civil Engineering Heritage: Scotland - Lowlands and Borders by Roland Paxton and Jim Shipway (2007) via the Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Scotland.

2 - The Architect Robert Mylne. Electric Scotland. Saint Cecilia's Hall in the Niddry Wynd.

3 - Tods-Well which supplies the City with Water. (original footnote, verbatim from the poem).

4 - Origin Of The Word Toddy. The New York Times (1871).

5 - Chambers' Edinburgh Journal conducted by William and Robert Chambers, Number 285, Saturday, July 15, 1837.

6 - The Official Robert Burns Site. All verses to The Holy Fair poem complete.

7 – Imbibe! by David Wondrich (2007). From Absinthe Cocktail To Whiskey Smash. A Salute In Stories And Drinks To ‘Professor’ Jerry Thomas. Pioneer Of The American Bar.

[psycho-slytherin]

Sinner

In which Romeo hates Juliet, but not as much as Juliet hates Romeo.

Pairing: Actor!Jimin x Reader

Genre: fluff; drama; enemies to idiots to lovers

Warnings: Swearing, Old English

WC: this was gonna be a drabble 5k

A/N: A happy, happy, happy birthday to my most beautifullest darlingest @chimchimsauce. Congrats! I hope you have a fantastic day and ily!!! <3

|mlist|

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief. See how she leans her cheek upon her hand– Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek!”

You look out into the darkness, sighing. “Ay, me.”’

“She speaks. Oh, speak again, bright angel!”

“Romeo, Romeo…” you wring your hands. “Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name. Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love–” your voice catches. “And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.”

~~~

“Some shall be pardoned, and some shall be punished. For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.”

You hold your breath, waiting in the wings. There’s a pause, silence, before…

Thunderous applause rings through the theater. You peek around the curtain and see some audience members already on their feet. Yes! The applause rises in volume by the end of curtain call, when you and your Romeo step back onstage to bow once, twice, give credit to the orchestra, bow again, and done. 

“Did you see that?” Hoseok, who plays Mercutio, whoops before chugging the rest of his beer. “Standing ovation, bitches, for a touring production! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

You smile from the corner of the green room. You’re happy onstage, but you can’t help but let your natural shyness come into play when you’re back to playing… well, yourself.

“Let’s hear it for the stars of our show– Juliet and Romeo!” Momo, the costume designer and your best friend on tour, nudges you forward. Across the room, Hoseok is doing the same to your Romeo. Oy vey.

You press your lips together. “Hello, Jimin.”

“Y/n.” 

“Damn, not even a greeting?”

“I’d rather save my breath for the stage.”

You feel the deep, familiar coil of rage in your stomach begin to tighten. This guy… “I’m sure pretending you have a heart saps most of of your strength.”

“At least I can pretend decently, since it’s my job. What’s yours?”

“Hey, hey, let’s keep it civil.” Hoseok moves in between you two. “Alike in dignity, right? It’s Friday night, there’s no matinee tomorrow… let’s party like it’s 1391!”

The cast and crew cheer as they load into multiple SUVs, surely headed for the nearest bar.

“You sure you don’t want to go?” Momo asks, poking your arm as the cars leave. 

“And spend more time than I have to with a certain coworker?” You wrinkle your nose, grabbing your things from your locker. You’ve already changed back into your civilian outfit, a longsleeved shirt tucked into loose pants. “I’ll pass.” 

“Don’t let him ruin your night, y/n. He’s the devil, and he’s got an ego as big as his dick is small.”

You snort. “Classy.”

“Like, okay, let’s be honest, he is hot.”

That, you can’t deny. “But he knows it, which makes him more of an annoyance. Ever since I landed this role he’s been so rude and entitled!”

“It’s ‘cause he thinks he’s such a panty-dropper, and how dare you not sleep with him.” Momo giggles. “I’ll bet you money that he doesn’t spend tonight alone.”

You feel a pang in your chest at the idea of Jimin spending the night with some faceless beauty. God, you hate him. “How come Casanova Montague is getting more action than me?”

“I’ll tell you how– he’s at the bar right now, meeting and seducing people. He’s playing Romeo, the flirt that makes the first move. Now stop being shy little Juliet, go out, and get some!” Momo strides to the costume closet and pulls out a leather… thing.

“What’s that?”

Your friend huffs. “It’s a dress. And it’s your ticket to showing up Park Jimin tonight.”

You laugh, examining the outfit. “Not only did I say I wasn’t going out, this probably doesn’t fit me, and who says I care about showing up Jimin?”

“Not only are you friends with the resident fashion guru, but you also deserve a fun night out! All you’ve done this tour is get through the show and head to the hotel. Which means the only guy you’ve kissed for two months is a prettyboi with his head so far up his ass that his headvoice is his belt.” Momo thrusts the leather number at you. “Now go change. I don’t care what demons I have to summon to have this dress fit you, we’ll make it happen.”

~~~

“Why did I agree to this?” You say through a forced smile, your back to the wall. You tug at the hem of the dress, attempting to cover more of your thighs. You’ve worn revealing costumes onstage before, sure, but that’s not you.

“You never really agreed, actually, you’re just too weak to fight me.”

“You said a bar, Momo, this is a club. People are dancing! I can’t dance!”

“I can’t believe I need to tell a professional actress to let loose and have fun. I hear wild stories about your cast parties all the time!” Momo looks effortlessly flawless in a loose red top and shorts, and she actually seems comfortable in the loud, warm, energetic setting.

“Y/n’s never been to our troupe’s cast parties,” Yoongi, the cast’s Benvolio, approaches and slings an arm around you. You and Yoongi have always had good banter, and at first you mistook his wisecracking for flirting. Now you know better.

“Because I want to be able to walk the next day, maybe?” You laugh, stealing his beanie. Or because Jimin is there.

“It’s an important bonding ritual!”

“Getting drunk and high with Park Jimin is the last thing I’d ever want to do,” you announce dryly. 

“Don’t worry, Sunshine.” Even with the blaring music, you hear his voice clearly. “It’s not on my list of priorities either.”

You jump, seeing your costar approach. “Jimin!”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “No, please, go back to talking about me. I was so invested.”

You clench your jaw in frustration and Yoongi chuckles nervously. “That’s my cue, ladies and gents. Momo, care to get a drink?”

Momo looks from you to Jimin with worried eyes and you nod at her– you’ve never needed help dealing with Park Jimin. 

The two leave and, despite the crowded club, it feels as though you and Jimin are alone. You hate to admit it, but in his civilian clothes he looks really, really hot. 

“Complaining about me behind my back? That’s really mature, y/n.” Jimin runs his hands through shiny black hair, his tight shirt straining to accommodate muscles that you’ve never noticed through the Romeo costume.

“Would you rather I complain to your face? Because that I wouldn’t mind.”

“I’d rather you keep your pretty mouth shut offstage– maybe onstage too, so I don’t have to spend half my performance making up for yours.”

The familiar fury that Jimin always manages to trigger tinges your vision red. You stomp closer to him, your heeled boots bringing you to eye level with Jimin, your blood boiling beneath your skin. “Why do you hate me so much? I earned this role. I do the work. I get results. You don’t do anything besides stand there and look good. You barely deserve to be an understudy!”

Jimin mirrors your movement, drawing closer to you before smirking. You’re almost nose to nose, so close you can feel his breath on your lips, and you almost shiver when he speaks. “You think I look good?”

“You– ugh!” You’re so tempted to wind up and punch the guy but you can’t afford to get in trouble. “The only one who thinks you’re good-looking is you, Jimin, and given that your personality archetype is ‘Entitled Swine’ you’re goddamn lucky you’ve got that going for you.”

“Ooh, perfect Juliet can swear.”

“Dumbass Romeo can leave.”

“At least this dumbass can dance.” With that, Jimin turns on his heel and makes his way to the crowded dance floor before stopping and looking back at you over his shoulder. “Admiring the view? Or you just hate to admit that you can’t dance?”

A very small voice in your psyche pipes up: Is he trying to reverse-psychology me into dancing in order to make fun of me?

Nah, he wouldn’t be that conniving or immature. You’re sure Jimin is happy just rubbing your nose in your skills… or lack thereof.

Hey, just because you said you can’t dance doesn’t give him the right to make fun of you. You’re half tempted to follow him onto the dance floor, join the mass of sweaty, tipsy, hormonal bodies… and just act like you belong.

But that’s not you. You glare at Jimin before moving to find Momo. You encounter her at the bar, along with Yoongi and Hoseok. Namjoon, who plays Lord Capulet, is there as well, and his eyes light up when he sees you. “Hey, our star decided to join us for once!”

“Y’all are making me feel like I live under a rock,” you complain. “I just like sleep.” Or, you’re just trying to avoid Jimin as much as possible.

“Then girl, you picked the wrong career. Why do you even do stage plays if you’re so uptight?” Hoseok is clearly well on his way to drunk, not that he needs alcohol to speak his mind.

“I-I-” You look down, embarrassed. “It’s different when I’m acting. I’m not uptight on stage. I just get nervous when I’m being myself, I guess.”

Momo slams back a shot. “That’s it!” she gasps, her face contorting as the liquor sears her throat. “That’s how you can loosen up tonight. Act!”

You look down at the foreign leather dress. It does feel like you’re already wearing a costume. 

“Hey, I can get behind that! Y/n, be someone else for the night!” Yoongi winks. “Someone confident!”

“Someone exciting!” Namjoon chimes in.

Momo grins. “I’d say someone sexy, but you’ve got that down. Go, channel Romeo for a bit.”

“But, uh… how do I start?”

Yoongi gets a mischievous gleam in his eye. “By dancing.”

You look over. The dance floor is dimly lit, save for a multicolored pulsing light show. Jimin is somewhere on that floor, probably looking as comfortable as he does onstage.

“Momo, come with me?” You ask desperately. You’ll do this, but you don’t want to be without backup.

“Of course! But first, a round of shots. And two for my girl here! A toast to y/n, and whoever she’ll become!”

“Oh, I don’t like drinking,” you say.

“Yeah, but your new persona does!” Momo replies, and you laugh. Surrounded by your coworkers, your friends, you feel more comfortable than before. As you relent, downing shots in quick succession, you feel… different. Confident. The alcohol wouldn’t affect you so quickly, right? When you rise, you stand straighter, at last at home in the tight leather. Whoever you are now, she likes feeling sexy. She doesn’t mind attention. And she doesn’t care if Park Jimin says she can’t dance.

“Let’s go, Momo.”

Your friend whoops. “Bye, boys! We’re gonna have ourselves some fun!”

Together, you join the crowd on the dance floor. The DJ is playing some electronic music you don’t recognize– but it’s got a strong beat, and that’s all you need. Momo is a fantastic dancer and you follow her lead: you jump, shimmy, and spin. The real you would feel awkward as hell, your body would seem clunky and unfamiliar. But now, with the lights down low and the music blaring, all you feel is adrenaline.

“That guy is making eyes at you!” You shout in Momo’s ear to be heard over the music. She turns and checks out the man who’s been looking her way the past two songs. “Ooh, he’s cute. But I’m here with you, y/n!”

You flash her a smile. “Who’s y/n? I can handle myself fine, darling. Talk to him if you want!”

“You sure you won’t mind?”

What are you doing? This isn’t you. It’s not even drunk you. It’s different. You wouldn’t want to be this girl every day, but for right now… you’re relishing in the feeling. You love it. This is acting.

“I’m sure.” You wink. “And have fun!”

Momo dances her way over to the guy, who breaks into a grin when he sees her headed towards him. You turn your attention back to the music, the melodies you don’t recognize, the beat you feel in your bones. You’re not y/n, you’re just one messy soul among dozens swaying to the same song.

The spell is broken when you feel a hand on your ass.

“Hey beautiful…” a husky voice growls in your ear, his chest pressing into your back. You want to yell, hit him, anything, but terror floods you and you feel frozen to the spot. “That dress looks great on you. It’d look better on my bedroom fl– oof!”

You turn just in time to see the man double over, and standing above him is Jimin, looking angrier than you’ve ever seen him.

“You don’t get to touch her,” he growls, “ever.”

“J-Jimin?”

He glances at you, eyes softening. “Are you okay?”

“I- yeah.” You feel nervous again, your new persona having slipped for a second.

“I’m gonna get security to throw this scumbag out. I’ll see you later, y/n, okay?” He nods at you and melts into the crowd, dragging the creep with him.

“Y/n? Oh my god, what happened?” Momo asks, appearing beside you.

You stare after Jimin. “I don’t know.”

~~~

You silently pretend to have a conversation, yet you feel his eyes burning into you. 

“Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.”

You’re oblivious, you can’t hear him, you’re super engaged in this fake conversation.

As Lord Capulet argues with Tybalt, played by your friend Taehyung, you allow yourself to sneak a glance at Jimin. It’s your first performance together since Friday night at the club– your understudy took on Saturday’s show, and Jimin’s played on Sunday. The whole weekend has passed and even now, Monday, you can’t stop thinking about that night. Why should Jimin care if you were getting harassed? Sure, it was probably him feeling protective of a fellow cast member, or just being a decent human being for once. Still, that raw fury in his voice... before you know it, it’s time for your first scene with your Romeo.

Jimin takes your hand. He really is handsome with stage makeup on, not that you notice or care. Though his body is angled towards the audience, his eyes bore into yours. “If I profane with my unworthiest hand, this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”

And, still staring at you, he presses his lips to your hand. His gaze is so intense that if you didn’t utterly despise him, you might have felt flustered.

The scene continues, and before you know it…

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake,” you say your line teasingly. Your characters are young, and flirting. Despite your and Jimin’s true feelings for each other, you both agreed to leave your rivalry in the dressing room.

“Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.” Jimin draws you in, like he’s done a hundred times in a dozen cities, and lightly touches his lips to yours. “Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.”

“Then have my lips the sin that they have took,” you manage, breathless. You turn away, hiding your face, before Jimin takes your hand and whirls you around. You end up pressed against him, much closer than the blocking you had rehearsed, but it does make the scene more intimate.

“Sin from thy lips?” Jimin cups your cheek– his hand seems extra soft today– and tilts your chin up. “Oh, trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.” And this kiss is nothing like the first, no, it’s desperate, messy, hormonal, secret, his plush lips move against yours hungrily and his tongue–

Eventually you pull away, almost lightheaded. You hate him, and you hate to admit it, but… “You kiss by the book.” Especially tonight.

After curtain call, you’re changing in the dressing room when Momo pokes her head in. “Yoo-hoo! How’s my favorite Juliet?”

“Hey!” Hyuna, your understudy, complains good-naturedly. 

“I heard the kiss scene today was intense,” Momo continues, helping you out of your costume. “Do I sense underlying sexual tension?”

You roll your eyes, swatting your friend. “As if, darling. My standards have yet to fall low enough for Park Jimin.”

A knock at the door startles you. “Who is it?”

The voice makes your heart drop into your stomach. “The walls aren’t soundproof, darling, and you’re right next to the men’s dressing room,” says… shit. Jimin.

“Oh damn, he heard that?”

Momo flaps her hand dismissively. “Since when have you cared about speaking your mind around Jimin?”

“I…” You shake your head. “You’re right, I don’t.” Right?

Once you’ve changed, you shoulder your bag and head down the hall. You’re almost to the door when Jimin steps out of the green room. “Well, if it isn’t Miss High Standards.”

You sigh inwardly. You haven’t spoken face to face with him since Friday, and you’re too tired to fight Jimin right now. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“Wow, y/n apologizing? Let me mark the date on my calendar, we’ll call it a holiday.”

“Whatever, Jimin.” You’re so tired of arguing with him every single day.

“No comeback? What’s gotten into you?” Underneath the snark in his tone, he almost sounds concerned… or so you’d think, if you didn’t know him better.

“Y/n, a bunch of us are going out tonight, want to come?” Taehyung calls behind Jimin.

You nearly laugh. Given how Friday went? “No thanks, I’m just gonna go back to the hotel.” With a curt nod to Jimin, you continue to the back door.

“Alright, good performance tonight,” Tae replies.

“You too.” You call a taxi and head to the hotel. You’re rooming with Hyuna, but if you know her at all you know she won’t be sleeping in her own bed tonight.

After brushing your teeth and hair, you take a breath and finally relax. Even when you’re offstage, at work it feels as though you have to be ‘on’ all the time. And with Park Jimin around, you can never let your guard down. It’s nice to have this time alone and finally wind down. You pull your sudoku book from your purse and curl up in bed to work on the puzzles. You like reading, but ever since high school you felt most at peace when you were able to channel your focus into problem-solving. Back home, that meant doing puzzles. On tour, your sudoku book is much more portable. It’s nearing midnight when you hear a knock on your door.

That’s weird. “Hyuna?” You call, padding to the door and pulling it open. “Did you lose your key ag-”

“Hi,” Jimin says.

What.

Your mind goes through about nine stages of panic, and for lack of a better plan you swing the door closed, with Jimin still on the other side.

“Uh… y/n?”

Your mind a whirling dervish, you can do nothing more than stare at the door. What is he doing here? Why is Jimin, of all people, outside your door? Sure, the whole cast is rooming on the same floor, but that doesn’t explain why he’s here. Is he hooking up with Hyuna? Does he need to borrow some toothpaste? Did he lose the revised blocking script?

Does he… want to talk to you? A rush of guilt nearly topples you. Did you really just close the door on him?

Wait, it’s Park Jimin. You hate Park Jimin. You should slam a door in his face, as regularly as possible. 

“W-what do you want?” you squeak, inwardly cursing. Get a hold of yourself. You’ve dealt with Jimin ever since the first table read, so why are you nervous now?

Jimin’s reply, though muffled through the door, sounds almost...sheepish. “I just want to talk.”

“Since when do you ‘just want to talk’ to me?”

“Can you just open the door, y/n? My ego is hurting enough as it is.”

What does he mean by that? Your curiosity alone is enough to make you open the door. Jimin is standing there, his cheeks tinged red, holding out a bottle.

“What’s this?” You take the bottle from his outstretched hand. It’s cold.

“Call it… a peace offering.”

“Champagne?”

“Sparkling apple cider. I noticed you don’t like to drink.”

“Oh.” You can think of nothing else to say– what is going on? “Uh, thanks. Do you want to come in, or…?”

“Actually…” Jimin shifts from side to side. “Do you want to go for a walk? The walls in the rooms are pretty thin.”

Befuddled, you follow him into the elevator, watching as he presses the R button.

“Roof, huh?” You finally have your voice back. “Is this it? Are you at last gonna murder me?”

“Yep, that’s definitely what’s going on here,” Jimin replies sarcastically, taking the bottle from your hand. “And apple cider is my weapon of choice.”

“Seriously, Jimin, what’s this about?” you ask as the elevator stops and you step out. “I mean, it’s not like you to– woah.”

Stars. Hundreds, thousands of stars blanketing the night sky, more than you’ve ever seen in your two months on tour. Spending all your time in big cities meant light pollution got in the way of stargazing but here, above the busy city streets…

“So pretty,” you whisper. “And the moon is so bright!” So much for being a snarky force of nature– you really, really missed the stars.

“Stars, in your multitudes…” you sing under your breath, forgetting who you’re with, where you are. 

“Scarce to be counted, filling the darkness with order and light.” Jimin’s rich tenor voice chimes in behind you. “Always a sucker for Les Miz. Apple cider?”

“There aren’t any cups.”

Jimin pries off the bottlecap and takes a swig directly from the bottle. “Who needs ‘em?”

“Really, Jimin, where’s all this coming from? Why are you being… well, nice?”

“Who says I’m being nice?”

You stare at him, unamused, although it’s too dark to tell if he’s noticed.

“Alright, alright. Look, I just…” Jimin’s words turn soft, and he sits down. You settle next to him. “I wanted to apologize for how I’ve behaved lately. You’re right, I’ve been an utter cock. My behavior, the shit I’ve said to you… it’s probably unforgivable. I wouldn’t blame you for getting up and leaving. I acted completely unprofessional, and created a bad working and social environment for you. I’m–” he pauses, takes a breath. “Y/n, I’m really, truly sorry.”

Well. He sounds genuine. But how can you trust Park Jimin? “Why were you always so hard on me?”

Jimin sighs. “I’m not going to try to justify my behavior. I’m not always the friendliest guy at work, but, uh…” he takes another swig of the cider. “Damn, now I wish this was alcoholic.”

You steal the bottle and take a drink yourself. “You were saying?”

“This sounds childish, god. The last troupe I was in, before I joined this production… my girlfr- ex-girlfriend at the time was an actress too. She wanted to do screen work but she wasn’t finding opportunities, and I introduced her to our director. She made a good impression and joined the troupe– we toured with In The Heights, I was Usnavi and she got Vanessa.”

“So you played love interests onstage? Neat.”

“It was, yeah… until we broke up. She’d been sleeping with the director, of all people.” The hurt and betrayal in Jimin’s voice is so potent you feel an urge to comfort him. But it’s Park Jimin, how do you know he’s telling the truth?

“There were still two months left in the tour– so even after we broke up, even after she cheated on me, I still had to kiss her and act like I was in love.”

“Jimin, I’m sorry…” you murmur. You want to reach out and touch his shoulder, but would that be inappropriate?

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be dumping this on you. The truth is, when I first saw you, and saw you were cast as Juliet, I got nervous. You’re smart, funny, talented, beautiful…”

“I’m sorry, did you just compliment me?”

“And I was honestly scared of falling for you. I didn’t want to go through that again. But how I acted was awful– Momo told me Friday that the reason you didn’t join our cast parties or nights out was because you wanted to avoid me. I didn’t realize what a toxic environment I was making it for you.”

“Oh, I mean…” dammit, Momo.

“When I first met you, I figured you’d be meek, a pushover. You were so nervous! I didn’t expect you to bite back,” Jimin laughs. “I never should have messed with you. You can fend for yourself better than anyone.”

“I guess you weren’t alone in escalating things,” you admit. “It’s not like I was nice to you either. I’m sorry for talking behind your back– and to your face.”

There’s a moment of thoughtful silence. You feel more relaxed than before, which is nice.

“Did you listen to the new Mean Girls musical?” Jimin asks suddenly.

“A few times, yeah. Why?”

Jimin lays back and points at the sky. “I see stars, so many stars tonight, you could make diamonds dull, you are so beautiful~”

You suddenly regret that your troupe is performing Shakespeare and not a musical. How you’d love to hear that clear, emotional tone every night. “You sound great.”

“Oh, ah…” Jimin’s voice rises in pitch. “Thanks.”

“Y’know, I never thanked you for helping me out on Friday with that dude.”

“Anyone would do the same.”

“But you’re the only one that did. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. That guy is part of the reason I came here tonight, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Obviously you’re a human being and also a troupe member, so those are two good reasons I didn’t want him to harass you. Later, though… jeez, this makes me sound like such a yandere… I dunno. I got so mad at that asshole, and I realized it’s because I care about you as more than just a troupe member.”

“What? J-Jimin?”

“And the show today. I feel like such an idiot, but I have to know: did the kiss scene today… did it feel different to you?”

Is that a tremor you hear in his voice? Is Park Jimin, with his endless confidence, nervous? Because of you?

“It… yeah, it did. I thought you changed the blocking.”

“I thought you did.”

You laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. “What is going on?”

Your costar joins in, chuckling mirthfully. “I have no clue. But I like it.”

What’s it? Does it mean you? This? The two of you together? Because if so, you’re starting to like it too.

“I’m supposed to hate your guts, man. You can’t come here, acting all adorable, bringing me apple cider, and still expect me to hate you.”

“So you think I’m adorable?”

“That is not what I said. The only person who thinks you’re adorable is you.”

“How narcissistic do you think I am?”

“I never realized you had enough room in your heart for more than you, to be honest.”

“There’s enough room for you too,” Jimin whispers, contrasting with his fast-paced quips. 

What does he mean by that?

You sit back up, and Jimin joins you. You stare at the night sky shoulder to shoulder for a moment before you speak. 

“Y’know, Momo always said you were the devil,” you say, keeping your voice light. “But I thought the devil was too high-class. There’s only one Satan, you know. You’re just a regular sinner.”

“Oh, so I’m a sinner? Then give me my sin again.” And Jimin is right there, leaning forward, a thousand questions in his eyes and you answer every one by pressing your lips to his.

Suddenly you’re kissing Park Jimin, which you’ve done a thousand times, but this time it’s different. Jimin makes a happy little “mmph!” noise when you kiss him before snaking his hand into your hair and gently pulling you closer. You’re finally kissing him like no one’s watching– it feels so familiar, and yet entirely new. 

After not-long-enough, you pull away. “Should I say you kiss by the book or is that too cliche?”

“Well, I did fall for my beautiful costar who I specifically didn’t want to fall for– so I think we’re past cliches at this point.”

You laugh, a clear, genuine sound you thought Jimin would never hear. “I can’t believe this. Should I ask what happens now, or…?”

Jimin quiets. “I’m scared,” he admits. “I don’t want…”

Right, his ex. “The tour ends next month. Do you want to maybe… see where things go from there? Once we don’t have to be Romeo and Juliet?”

“Call me but love, and henceforth I will never be Romeo,” Jimin quotes. 

You swat him. “Nerd.”

“No, but that sounds good. Yeah, that sounds…” you can hear his grin, it sounds like sunshine and sugar. “That sounds really, really, good, y/n.”

“Good. So… now what?”

Jimin chuckles mischievously. “Give me my sin again?”

A/N: Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to like, reblog and/or comment. I really appreciate it! <3

[saintheartwing]

Undertales of Friendship: Beware the Man Who Speaks in Hands

Frisk was not having very good dreams.

Over and over, he would find himself descending down, down into the dark recesses of the "True" Laboratory beneath the normal place where Alphys had worked in the underground. The walls a dark green, a chill running through the air, a faint fog all around his feet as he nervously stepped past patient chair after patient chair. Over and over again he'd approach the sinks in the back of the room, turning them on to get the key one of them had inside them, hoping to flood the sinks and for the key to either float up, or the pipes beneath to burst open to get what he wanted. Yet that always gave way to the sight of that...THING coming out of the third sink.

A cute little round, cheery face, twisting and bulging and morphing into a monstrosity with a horrific laugh, large black eyes with pinprick white pupils gazing back. A tongue lagging out of one of many mouths, eternally crying and bleeding-black eyes on a whispy, curved tail like a scythe. This...this odd, strange, faintly melted specter of many faces looking back at him, three in a row all rising up from the sinks, mouths opening and closing and all speaking at once, and saying the same phrase again and again.

"LOREM IPSUM DOCET.

LOREM IPSUM DOCET.

LOREM IPSUM DOCET."

Frisk knew what it meant. Sorrow itself teaches. And he knew what these things were. Pieces of what had once been the Royal Scientist of the Underground, WingDinG Aster, aka Gaster, as he preferred to be called. More bestial and darker traits had risen up in this little "Mini-Me" of Gaster, and they were really only interested in one thing.

"Come join the fun."

"It's a real get together!"

"Become one of us! One of us!"

"You'll be with us soon." The Memoryheads intoned, as more heads sprang up around Frisk, knocking him back as they bulged and popped, Frisk shivering as the Memoryhead closest to him intoned in a dark voice.

"Sorrow itself teaches."

"Teaches what?" Frisk asked. And again the Memoryheads would get closer...closer. "Look, I-I don't want to join in the fun!" He insisted. How many times had he done this before, only to be ignored as they leapt on him and-

But now it was different. Now they merged together, popping and squishing into one, growing larger and larger as an enormous black maw opened slowly and a voice faintly echoey in tone rang out.

"I only want what's mine. And you have a part of it."

"Wh-what's that?" Frisk asked, a gigantic head now staring down at him, white pupils gazing deeper and deeper into him as Frisk found himself sinking, going further into the endless black that was engulfing him-

And then he awoke, Fluttershy the Pegasus gently dabbing a cloth over his head as he sat up on her couch, glancing about her little cottage. "Wh-what happened?"

"Oh, Frisk, sweetie, you fainted in the middle of feeding the chickens outside. Is it too hot for you? I don't know why you always wear a long-sleeve shirt." Fluttershy sighed a little, waving a hoof in the air. "I mean, blue does bring out your eyes, but you must get very hot."

"No, it...it isn't that." Frisk muttered, holding a hand to his head as he cringed. "I keep having these bad dreams and I haven't slept well lately."

"...dreams?" Fluttershy murmured. "Hmm. You know, I think I know someone who could help with bad dreams." She offered with a gentle smile, clasping her hooves together and beaming.

And indeed, a quick letter from Spike was sent out, and Princess Luna of Equestria was soon back in Ponyville, happily meeting with Frisk as the tired, ragged-faced, scarcely-able-to-keep-his-eyes-open child moaned, rubbing his head as he laid on the couch in Fluttershy's home. Fluttershy handed him some golden flower tea, another very popular dish brought up from the Underground thanks to the kindhearted Toriel, and Luna thoughtfully looked him over, dark blue eyes gazing intently at him as Sans, who was also there to look after the kid, gave the kid a hot dog. Or rather, a hot cat.

"Ugghhh. I'm sorry, Sans. I don't feel like eating it."

"geez. ain't even hungry enough to have one of my specialties? now I KNOW somethin' ain't right with you." Sans said, shaking his bony head back and forth. "maybe a joke'll cheer you up. what do you call a guy who gets run over? tired."

Fluttershy, Luna and Frisk all slooooowly turned their heads to directly look at each other, then at Sans, saying absolutely nothing. "..."

"...wow, something IS wrong with you. not even a chuckle." Sans commented with a surprised look on his face.

"I can see his soul's aura. It is plagued with bad dreams. Something has a grip on him." She reasoned aloud. "Frisk, I ask of you. Tell me EVERYTHING thou dost remember of thy dreams. It's most imperative."

"I'm dreaming of these...amalgamates. Melted-together things, pieces of a person that used to be. They're called Memoryheads because they're...well, they're like living heads that are the embodiment of a memory of a man." Frisk said, his tone sounding just as exhausted as the child looked. "A man named Dr. Gaster. He used to be the Monster Kingdom's Royal Scientist...and he was Sans and Papyrus's big brother."

"Whatever happened to him?" Fluttershy softly inquired.

"He fell into his machine, into the time/space continuum and now's in pieces."

"what Frisk here means is that he's at a PIECE conference." Sans remarked wryly.

Many, many, MANY miles away, something stirred. A very furious growl turned into a roar as a cracked face snarled out high and loud enough to crack every glass window in Canterlot. Which it DID.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT BONEHEAD SAID THAT!"

"OW. OW. Sans, that joke was so bad it's physically hurting me, OWWW." Frisk moaned out, Luna whacking her head against the nearby wall over and over again, Fluttershy covering her face with one hoof as Sans nonchalantly shrugged.

"maybe you're right. guess I should leave and make sure you get some-"

"DON'T YOU DARE-"

"PIECE and quiet."

"OHHHHH." Frisk groaned, writhing on the couch as Sans exited the house, laughing uproariously as another pained groan echoed out from miles away in Canterlot.

"Ugggghhhhh. How detestible. He should put more backbone into his pu-" Princess Luna began to say before cringing. "Oh sonofa-"

"HA!" Sans laughed.

Unbeknownst to them, it wasn't Frisk who was in the most danger. No, that dubious honor went to Papyrus, who was hard at work in his new job as a guard for Princess Celestia in her palace at Canterlot. Well, "work" is a strong word. Because currently, he was, along with the other guards, enjoying a nice game of charades with her. Celestia was pantomining a clown to demonstrate the circus, though the guards couldn't quite pick up on that, least of all Papyrus. Then again, perhaps the other guards DID realize it, they just couldn't speak over Pap's VERY loud voice.

"OH! OH, YOU ARE A FLOWER! NO, NO WAIT, YOU ARE A PATIENT FROM AN INSANE ASYLUM! NO, NO WAIT! A MAGICIAN! YES, I AM CERTAIN YOU ARE A MAGICIAN! IS THE WORD MAGIC?"

Celestia chuckled a little, Papyrus happily bouncing up and down in the throne room as she cheerily smiled back, some of the other guards jabbing each other in the side, snickering a bit at his childish exeuberance. It was really quite adorable.

But then the room began to get dark and cold, a chill settling in as Celestia realized that she could see her breath right in front of her. She gasped, quickly looking around the room as the expanse all about her began to convert into utter shadows, and she narrowed her eyes. Was this Discord playing a prank? It couldn't be Sombra, he wasn't around anymore! What was going on?

"...PaPyRuS..." A voice whispered, its voice haunting and echoing as Papyrus stiffened in shock, Celestia looking over in his direction before inky blackness began to swell around him, Papyrus struggling to get free of the darkness that was engulfing him. He let out a gasp, trying to push the other guards away so they wouldn't get sucked in, Celestia racing towards him.

"NO! PRINCESS, STAY BACK! I DO NOT WISH YOU HARMED!" Papyrus insisted, the blackness carefully pinning his arms to his sides as a form rose out of the black, its face skeletal, one black crack running up its right eye, another running down towards its mouth on the left as it gazed over Papyrus, bony hand clasping Papyrus's cheek. "DO...DO I KNOW YOU?"

"You don't remember, Papyrus?" It spoke. "I remember everything about you. Everything."

Papyrus's mouth gaped open slightly, Celestia taking a step forward, eyes intently narrowed as her horn glowed. "You release him NOW. I will not allow you to harm an innocent."

"I only want what's mine." The being said. "I need...to make USE of you." It told Papyrus.

And with that, the inky blackness exploded outward like a bomb, Celestia reeling back along with the guards as she gasped, glancing around...

Papyrus was gone.

AN HOUR LATER...

Sans was calmly sitting on a bench in the park, leaning back and doing nothing. Just the way he liked things. Calmly sighing, he looked up at the sky, and the clouds idly passing by as he saw Papyrus approaching off in the distance, dressed in his normal attire and eagerly sitting down next to him. "WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?" Papyrus asked Sans.

"well, i like to watch shapes in the clouds. that one looks like a flying dragon, see?" Sans said, pointing with a bony finger up at a draconic-shaped puffy cloud that looked like it was belching out 'flames', Papyrus nodding in agreement.

"OH, YES, IT DOES INDEED."

"and that lil' one over there looks like a mother duck, and the other ones after it are lil' ducklings."

"LIKE THAT CUTE LITTLE BIRD THAT LOVES TO CARRY PEOPLE OVER RIVERS?" Papyrus inquired.

"yeah. we gotta treasure that bird." Sans agreed with a calm, respectful nod.

"MAY I TRY ONE?"

"of course, paps." Sans said with a wink, Papyrus rubbing his long chin before pointing upward with a red-gloved hand.

"OOH! THAT ONE LOOKS LIKE A WOUNDED DERPY WITH SMOKE COMING OFF OF HER WINGS-"

KRAKKA-THROOOOOM! Derpy Hooves crashed hard into the market, a cry of "MY CABBAGES" echoing out through the air as a loud "Sorry' echoed out soon after, Derpy limping by them, angrily holding up an exploded mailbag, complete with the shredded remains of what had been a suspicious package and cake frosting and cabbages all over her body, Sans raising a nonexistent eyebrow as he looked her over.

"what happened?"

"It's a SICK world we live in with SICK PONIES!" Derpy shrieked, grumbling darkly as Papyrus shook his head back and forth.

"WHAT A SHAME. THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD NEVER SEND MAIL THROUGH THE POSTAL SYSTEM."

"yeah. i'm guessing that was a Boom Boom Cake of Pinkie Pie's."

"HOW CAN YOU TELL?"

"cuz she's got a real explosive personality."

Silence for a long, long time before Papyrus wryly remarked "...I HATE TO TELL YOU THIS, BROTHER, BUT YOUR JOKE JUST...BOMBED."

Sans stiffened a little, slowly turning his head, as if truly seeing Papyrus for the first time, his mouth agape in surprise as Papyrus put a hand on his shoulder...with incredible weight behind it. "you're not paps."

"NO...I'm not." The being that was not Papyrus said. "You know who I am, Sans. And you know why I'm here. You understand why."

"gaster, come on, he's just a child-" Sans began to say, Gaster's stolen form shaking its head back and forth solemnly.

"I'm not going to harm him anymore than I've harmed Papyrus. Or that I'll harm you. I only want what's mine." Gaster explained."Now come. It's time for all of us to be one big family, Sans. The way it should be." He intoned kindly, as Sans felt a large embrace engulf him, the shadows swallowing his form as he fell deeper, deeper, deeper into the abyssal black around him...

And then, within a few moments, there was only what appeared to be Sans on the bench as he made his way back towards Fluttershy's cottage. "now then...third time is the charm."

...

...

...

...Frisk was still on the couch, fast asleep as Luna held a hoof to his head, focusing intently, her lips slightly pursed. Fluttershy stood nearby, biting her lip as the light softly filtered in through the window, bathing over Frisk in soft golden light as Luna cringed.

"This is serious. An immense block is inside his mind. Whatever's inside him has placed a mental barrier that I cannot easily break through. I will need additional help, Fluttershy." Luna sighed at last, removing her hoof from Frisk's forehead before steepling her hooves, lying back in the chair she was sitting on. "He will have to be taken to Zecora."

"taken to ol' stripeybutt, huh?" Sans's voice rang out as they turned, seeing he was stepping out of the closet, Fluttershy gasping as she slightly jumped up in the air. "what? c'mon, Fluttershy. nothing wrong with a couple skeletons in your closet. everybody has 'em."

"I take it you could simply...shortcut your way to Zecora?" Princess Luna mused aloud as he looked Sans over, the skeleton giving a cute little wink, showing off a faintly royal blue glowing eye as Frisk was softly hovered through the air and over towards him. "However are you able to do that?"

"ahhh, blue magic runs in the family, really." Sans the Skeleton remarked with a shrug. "both my brothers got different mastery over it. But Paps's spirit's tied to the trait of Bravery, so his magic comes off more orange. Me, I'm patient, so mine's light blue." He remarked with a shrug, unzipping his blue jacket as the sleeping Frisk was caaaarefully lowered down, down, and soon, was perfectly positoned right in front of Sans's form. With a little smile, Sans zipped his jacket back up, Frisk now warmly tucked away in the jacket almost like a mother kangaroo with her baby joey, as Sans patted the sleeping child on the head. "theeeere we go. all snug as a bug in a rug."

"You've been waiting to do that to him for a while, haven't you?" Fluttershy asked with a smile. "I can tell."

Sans gave her a big grin. "oh, you've no idea." He said, reopening the closet. "i'll see you two later. got a lot to do." he remarked before popping into the closet again, Fluttershy smiling before suddenly stiffening up. Something hadn't been right. What had he said? "My magic's light blue".

...but Frisk had been surrounded in a royal blue light.

"Princess Luna, I think something terrible has just happened." She realized aloud, wheeling around and looking into Luna's eyes. "We need to find Ms. Toriel immediately."

Meanwhile, Frisk was still tucked away inside the jacket as Gaster-Sans calmly walked down the forest path, heading to the abandoned Castle of the Two Sisters, the old castle of Princess Luna and Celestia. The castle was long overgrown, its steeples crumbling and cracked with trees around it drooping and saddened, everything about it giving off the air of dejection and abandonment as Gaster's borrowed form approached the front of the castle and pushed the doors open. Little Frisk was still fast asleep, Gaster's stolen form looking quietly down at Frisk, biting into a lack of bony lip.

He felt guilt. Frisk had been nothing but kind and loving to monsters like him. He'd freed his kind, he'd given his brothers something to live for again. Such a dear child.

"I..." He hesitated, gently stroking Frisk's brown-haired head. He just looked so cute, all tucked away tight and warm and safe in his jacketed body. "...he's just a child..." He murmured.

But he wanted to be whole again so dearly. To just be himself. Before he'd only been able to hold onto the material world in little bits and pieces, barely able to manifest for more than five minutes. But now with Sans and Papyrus sampled...

And soon it would be three with Frisk. Out of everyone in the Underground, four had the strongest physical connection to him. He'd been scattered in pieces across the Underground, and had barely managed to scrape enough of himself together for this wild, desperate plan. He needed four souls, and the pieces of himself within them: Sans, Papyrus, Frisk and Alphys. With Papyrus, his physical form would become more stable. With Sans, his mind would get more stable. With Alphys, he could get back his Soul. And with Frisk would come his heart, his compassion. He needed that. He needed to feel again. To just love someone.

"You're only feeling remnants of a man who once was." He murmured to himself, gently taking Frisk's sleeping form out of his jacket and laying him on a table as his visage began to shift, growing taller and darker. "You don't truly feel guilty. All you feel is a shell. Intellectually, you know you should feel disgusted. But you don't truly feel it. With the child claimed, you will. With the child claimed, you will feel again. Be almost utterly whole again. It's everything you want, isn't it?"

He now stood tall, a large skeleton in a dark cloaked robe with a silver undershirt, his form lean and faintly thin. A black crack ran up his eye, another running down to his mouth from the other eye, his skeletal hands having large holes in the center as he gently laid one on Frisk's head. "Believe me." He spoke softly to Frisk. "I'm truly grateful. With this, I'll be whole again. And you'll never be alone." He offered, shadows beginning to rise around Frisk as his SOUL was exposed...

Gaster flinching as he reeled back, cringing as he clutched at his chest, feeling his remnant of a Soul, his pale imitation flinching. Damn. The soft light of Sans and Papyrus within him were objecting. They were almost utterly overpowering him. Perhaps he couldn't claim the child yet. He'd need more raw power. Perhaps Alphys would do. Her Soul was rather weak-willed in comparison, and would provide the boost needed.

Ah, well. For now he could at least do one thing with the child. Carefully lifting the child up, he placed him between the folds of his coat as he buttoned it up more, the little one nicely tucked away inside him as he softly enjoyed the gentle movements of Frisk turning ever-so-slightly in a peaceful slumber. Sighing, Gaster sat down against a nearby wall, and softly drifted off to sleep himself to join the child in dreamland...

TO BE CONTINUED...

[libidomechanica]

Passion you departed, every one, into thee his neare ouerthrow

A ballad sequence

               I

A dull defensive war. Cupids     dart an image should be broken lily lies—the stony     British stare. Your girl was

always to blaw! The true that good     god make no pretence. Looking for Lebanon in the child     holds her green complete,

however she came to his gray shadow,     once I gave love: now I pray thee sink no moment pushing     to Conclusion. Dry;

no tear could now is come again,     and the way! All new successions of thought upon the rocks,     annihilation, this

our time, socked in every word but     mouth, when alone, puffed vp with pleasaunce: but little helpe to     harme thereof spends all his

might from the East, and gall. Passion     you departed, every one, into thee his neare ouerthrow.     Remember yours like a

wig. And limped downstairs in the acres     of garnered fruit, is waste; the regions on, while still     temptation follow her one

poem which hath no name, doth points     of morning of their white told my wrinkle. It is snowing     it, that now vnnethes their

eyes did seemed as happy pieties,     that kindles red. The soul out to the bed. And sware deuoutly     then, the crystal seek,

but for souls—the poor sodger’s wealthy     men, who care not a stone to pick up and downe dyd lye.     Of pale-mouth’d prophet dreaming

rills we travel. The Moor; and     for thou dost go, since you found? So spake this, a mute and sank     to the sky the long-wish’d-

for end, full of rules. How tall it     anything we wander, to thee wither in the red dress     shall call me ungentle,

unfair, I long’d so heartily     then, the pith, like corpse. Walking of the dead; into all: the     true gods sigh for the breath

was its earthly guest! Display thy     beauty morn by morn; I earth gone nearer. And when dead I’ll     be thy grave. Which to help

them achieve and revelled in     my palm nothing dwells in me but snow and icicles. My     glass shall I believe him

thy choir, and birds, and beneath,     and innocent. So long ago; and I am desolate     and he stops under

your advice, to melt this the Wine,     the music of the hours of thee the Dead; now made of perfumed     tincture of the rail.

               II

But with expected guest had slain.     Dear and fears, and thaw this is in me it bides: my true-     love hath mask’d—a Power in some untrodden regions on,     while turbidly ran, and

take a car again in to that     ’twere profanation also may comes, and the ranckorous     rigour of his Wit wouldest thought dead; A pardlike Spirit     with tears? But, lovers, children

here now, no force; she seemed to     live. For this my love whose soul of that cannot do that I     can; he’s peevish an’ jealous o’ a’ the night went shouting     Hál! They never lost, and

many hours: her hair—clasp your fame!     Thy mountain, the blossom blows, come with inharmonious sighs,     half in dreams I sorrow. Sleep robb’d me of that heat running     of the sky ascendancy,

are deaf that liberty commits,     when the stars above, and when she charms, to enflesh my     flower leaned aside, his honor: the blame out of a girl,     whose quietness a rosy

sanctuary will I gladly     thee see, What deaf and viperous murdering among     the hill. Then, fixing still and Ocean I sit upon the     sea, or a juggler hates

the Universe every-dayness     of noble heart that ran men’s Ears with the winters, reigneth     in my Ear till she hateth the ever-beating hands from     upper air, gaily through

the proud spirit seem. And dark ivy-     tresses grew Princess Diana. And I wonder if     April, and beauties do think that the flower by some care     he tooke: well couth he tune

his flock, that I am helpless     I’d have his. We’ll searching ban, splashing round her host, that     April would have left full thirst of all being, something on     my Bed, my wag, if the

waves the way. I could feign, because     you still true-hearted; tho’ poor in gear, we’re rich in the landlord’s     red-lipped daughter. Is flashing and there shadowing the     good backe, and shadow of

white robe before my pype, and buikit     and wan’d the bonie glen, where thou art a fon, of three gods,     whose glories dart scrutinizing snakes upon all, and thus     may stain whence it was always

snow she seemed to the hunter’s     choice is love’s long as I am witless. Crawls on the sheath     the broad main doth worship thy dear life was given, all my     name, no heat the morning

rise to bless the dark kept its rest,     these tuneless numbers, wrung of leaves that long purple moor,     a red-coat troop came marched for he was bald,&wasted me, and     the many a loathe the

street, last year, I caught to be scorn     the forest’s noonday. To other, when you could sufferance,     and the Pope is Catholic the wind through and probably a million     leaves flames of youth,

immortal strain comes their masked buds; out     of her mouth alit, the pure spirit that though her casement     broken? How do we come to seruewe his gray shadow     flits before Thee in the

waves upon his hand in a haze     of incipient fire drum, the one Spirit with expected     fade, die to the lowring Wether looks them through the coming     something evening must

usher night by Night her mantle     thou shalt—as now. By Night her mantle mard, where, after vpon     a day or night and rehearsal of all that shall meet! I     looked at his sister’s hats.

               III

Marched forth at evening must usher night, we watchman     ever; quo’ she, A sodger ance I lo’ed, forgetful of all thy land, who turns round the     wisest tongue-tied, speak they shrink and that

to me a livelier emerald twinkle, his     body bent, his face grew a bragging more such outrage, crauing youth and air and shining the     golden dreams. It would give invisible

Corruption wails for thy sweet deaths are smooth she     trips along the snake Memory stung, from death. In days far-off fireworks, gaily through blissful     gentle band rose, rob’d in death, and

the casual solitude and ye forest boughs, all     the Echoes, in thy affairs suppose it is! Be gain’d. You with art’s flames of her narrow     bed. Thy wooing voice, thy lute, the Chess

of Sorrow which now bene myne, to other clipp’d     her profuse locks of vowels, exact use of woes; your servant once seabeate, will never noticed     you. And just as soon as breathing

to explain—If I were the river; and he heard     the roses gules are gone before take delight and Strength for Fear. To bring its Ear such     years I must glow a bud in your truth.

Has power, fairing the market I steal, a wasted,     and from the stake, the corse bene the hours of the facts. Beneath, he had to mumble     through, the sweet; but trepidation of

a demon, be not afraid of the afternoon     and only way, since each had a juice in it, hoping the long breeze that hour with love simply     wears away. Who was surprised by

death. Driving in his face burned, ere I wail, the vapours     choke the green cornfield did pass, feeds, like joy in memory yet. Swift as a kissogram.     And chide the faint companions of

sweet coming to young people? Alas!—Riding—the     regions of though heauenly part ought therewith my bootless fancies were beaten with my     foe: I told it that nowe it auales.

               IV

Where the pith, like slow fire upon     all, and there, thro’ the wing, when youthful fancy. I never     stopped for he is sitting Boy, since on a flea-ridden day     when holy water from

the Green; but his burthens binde. A     breaking sense. Of all to Love that can a young again: find     that cup of wonder how the resemblance which now behold,     thy present moan? Alas!

               V

Convulsive rapture of my dream!     And call life pleasure thee, yearning to thee, phillis the brain     to brain, and, on thee,

Cynara! Because I am afraid.     But why thy odour matcheth not kneel for whom she came;     and what it is told; and,

after than Phoebe’s sapphire     melts in bliss, maud made me divinest anguisht with glance aside     that seems that just now

I though their throng! Over the     washbasin of my hate. And just as soon as the scream below;     but for the reeds by the

sweete Nighting they loue thilke lasse, alas     why am I lorne? Clinging in its object on whether     than you, beautiful

as the city, and wearing them,     so that ’twere possible sometime absent from book myche to     define—nor Love—although

they lie still cries, the landlord’s daughter,     and all my best is not to let the woman is the     growne fast his burthens binde.

               VI

With weakness—it can scarcely seen,     the humbled thought the actors or speech about wives. The sad     account of foot, Philoctetes

in woman’s form, limping     the landlord’s daughter, plaiting the breeze that ear which folly     once fired, how pale is

that claims of it then, with little     him as a smile the while sleeper on her cheeks. Numbering     ilka bud which way back

to walk away, leauing me into     another. Should proved us one. The wandering dawn, behold     these shelves hold up the

moonlight be feign’d, and thou Air, in     darkness music and moss and times delay and whom he taught     Grief made the carefull

case that’s how much more dear. With a     bunch of lace at his burthens binde. When, waking Wit I question     with you ponder and

his rine, his weary nights with scarce     espied: mid hush’d, cool-rooted flowers, was this; my lovely     youthfu’ May its bloom renew’d.

No graces can your gaze, and     see if it’s in those disdain shepheards God, that vnbitted though     you woulds’t, when asleep. The

trees, whose soul of Nature bankrupt     is, beggar’d of bloosmes, when he came scuffing in the North     wind blow, the delicious

East, far-folded mists, and its crescent     Moons a Full; and then my heart away complaining Love     that an Eleventh

Avenue might reade those who made yon     sun and some sad maiden grace impiety, that they quitten     him over, the delight?

               VII

Till it bore not soar where it but     her casement ope at night arise; come, come, leave the trodde     in the melancholy

the curtaines of Desolation     far fluttering band will stop its waves might from the cold     blowes throbbed to hear

my oracle of wasted time     I see the breath, the purple blossom’d gable-ends at the     amorous birds fly, and

even Despaire hath lost: thy Ewes,     that renewed might. Pendulum. Funeral directed? Its     platinum loops shrink ashamed

in symbiotic lichen     in the backyard licks us. He cuts the breache: my hartblood     is wot, the most irksom

night with feeble flocke he led it     EVIL.—Blows eight at a time from the Grace he gave the treasured     motion, it was my

loving, nay of conscience is born     of love couldn’t see ourselves cannot admit of absence and     troubled midnight at noon;

and Maud is as blank and barbarous     opulence jewel-thick sunn’d itself warm in their hearing,     I dow nocht but glow’r, sighing

ruth. Ripples on in light, when     Adonais, like her, none. Light; i’ll come out of that hung from     a centre, dart thy selfe

haue I worne out thrise through the dust!     A fathomless lake, stay as tall as I would awake to     the Eyes of Older Men.

You are lost, and when first blossomes     fayre, and snebbe the pride o’ her grief, as if embalmed even     Road, and gentle force,

so that to thee: ah Christ’s—oh! Man—     so glorious eyes were gazing downe, is trodden paths of     men or pass beyond the

good Oake, pitiable form that     I can euer that cleave them! Your shirt is at rest with a     fugitive resentment in

his father rais’d his Houri-faced     Musicians, and, for the stake, the only passed the brain that     we want. Let sad misfortune

and marr’d and marvelously     squished. The hart, hind, and disconsolate, thy mandolin.     Over his sleep themselves;

and sphere half-hid in death’s dateless     blot on a remember: falling evening, it will cling     to some still unexcavated

hole called it forthwith: his     wonder how the reed with wormes light vpon my Nancy, I     though shadow-like as of

old, my bird with smiling cherry.     In middle of gelt, embost with eternal, measure thee,     phillis the witching up.

               VIII

Had there fell and Ocean and feeds     her in her hears nor sees; rolled round thee return, turn again     in to thee. Whose naked

Armes stretches back down into ten     black, composed? Thy maysters mind is bent, thy mantle black waves     off this Ambitious brere,

for pale rage, nor power, fairing     th’ unwilling Despaire hath no name, Bannockburn,     Passchendaele, Babi Yar,

Vietnam. More life of truest     breathing to bring its worthiness of the hay-field yellow     her on one’s own Heart’s Blood.

               IX

In the old mysterious     glimmering Incarnations life’s bliss is intellectual     things here the air is cool

and blessed that I would be us,     and gleaming round the forest that fill with tears or with white;     when the sun when I wake,

my dreams, goodnight Upon her bell     there keen stars above, and, all along the Three-feathered grass     is spread; kiss me, dear friends.

               X

That night, but I was ouerawed.     Or out of a man: the landlord’s daughter, plaiting a ding,     ding; sweet lovers love that

the rash deed. And seven more loves     attend each night and given in either childhood? And brere     with the skies are riven!

And does her head she scar-tissue     she handed slumbers should be ashamed of all. A goat stirs     with thy tears, and wild and

draw out you. Of the Marksmen of     the river. What strength to his Lord, and payne. My Brother side;     his face, a gray old woman;

and thee that good old man never     breed the old age black hair. Make answer this? Than an Ant’s     eye; and I am but

twenty-five? It is not Hobbinol,     thy guide, shines in a chart my little hands for someone     might say, This is the

temptation thrives on contradiction,     and her smile and for fair Salámán and Absál out of     the night with points of night’s

gloomy shades, cloudy seas. Your face     ablaze, yearning appear. They climb, in which cannot pass away.     Elevated by

the proud spirit tender, the     liberty commits, when I arrived. The rank smell too young lassie     is glaikit wi’ mae

nor me. It’s a kind of war where     lang I’d been a thing coming to your old bad dreams I     sorrow marry. Tho’ poor

in gear, we’re rich in heaven that     shall be blest that he seeke with care. My sunny fields are, her     brother’s right badge is but

a humble knapsack a’ my wealthy     men, who care not a tear some ease, yet cannot loue should     admit. When I get stopped

noticing until you may, Woo’d     and mair we’se ne’er was a louder gale has roused the Oake cast     him the ostler listened.

               XI

Through the dull defensive war. The     herded wolves, bold only pretty ring time, where you may be,     now! Of something else is

stile. There I would have his, by just     exchange and pain, because it is frozen,—o dool on the     heart in two. That overlook’d

about me shattered. I wander     may; goe then in the stars, thou betray my noble though     his destiny, he who

would I fear, that the working out.     Open doors for thy transfuse with a banner, therefore. Blew     out his clear, diffuse the

heathy mountain roe, with capsules     in my brand; to keepe good man noulde stay his prize, and shake, as     witness all with a glassy

smile couldn’t see ourselves, supreme,     a ghostly galleon tossed upon fold upon the belt.     And in my palm nothing

gainst Time’s scythe candid temple thou     are lost, and I so wood1 that a matter to make arrangements     with her shining sleep;

Princess Dust to the op’ning day;     nor, when they ever is to the sweet odour matcheth not     all grace affright! And fixing

there fell forthwith bade my tongues,     and gleaming halls of his young lassie, what was its music     has power to be true?

And are betrothed to change and     Winters wrath of their lot and we still have; and the reed, far     in the rash deed. Shapes the

boundless curl of white as wax and     praying me, I answer given: I hold his visage hide,     stealing unseen to west

with soft delightful skill, that ever     grew beside an English fire. They woxe, and years behind     the world where it is a

dying year; like incarnation     of the sweet by the sullen earth my Emma lay; and ye     forests, cease to flow. That

you require. And there lies stellas     fair. It is a thing comfort wring. And eke tenne thousand     sitting graunt that northern

shore, or herdsman’s horn, or bell at     closde-vp sence was held, in opend sense it flies bene starue.     The inherited sin

on your hands, now you with that fair     face oh look at the parent to yourself—first This nigh wasted     time I see your hair.

               XII

” They cry, doe you delight is thee.     For a raven ever for a courted: wha spied I but     to pleasure for the apple

bright. There fell and trip when I     get stopped noticing until I heartbreak him and there where     behinde! On the Good,

defining itself be more such Jugling     he doth bear to mount, and did yielded, with blossomes,     to show her plan; i’ll cross

him an’ wrack him, until its spacious     Speech many a summer since gods sigh for these last, What     soul would show it dearly!

               XIII

That and what it is frozen cheek.     And thus with cold and rocked the Oake cast him yet recover.     From trees and fields are green

access will hold my wrath, my wrath     of Wisdom round her like a cloud, it faded, like clouds, were     still have to roam. Cold in

the Sword and vain the same Fountain     of a dance, and see your worlds of golden mystery of     mist on an autumnal

Night, as that ear which we seek—the     hand. First crack your boughes doe only wake without my Lover,     were in his best displayes,

yet of the while that is finished.     And another in chase, cries to catch thy mountains steep     hill’s edge they track’d the Chess

of noble thou kenst little good,     so vainely taduance that all to helpe to hate me     The bodie bigge, and me!

               XIV

Knees. All baser things below, beat     with black hair from variation of the women’s flesh while     he types; Yes; and weep, and

wild and so right, o’er the jewel has     chang’d to fragments of morning fountain, that o’er the dead. And     made my tongues, the sky, with

many a thing to fear. Agape,     he observes the certain stakes I gained, and some rough blissful     gentlemen. Down the year?

Would die; for strong Hours indignant     work’d the Wine, and look! Far; past land and tremble; in looks at     the grass and thou vnlucky

Muse, that April would know. Because     you with shot, here all cover’d with inharmonious sighs, the     City’s voice most happy.

               XV

And still his might, that heard on the     painting imitate his old boughes were all is fled; in     the manor; but onely doe him call when Winter gan     to approche, the game you play at is not help, come let us     play, and her arms are

smooth and Beauty in which to flatt’ry     so listen, so lustlesse bene the King of his faint     note of lust and grieve at grievances foregone, and knows, and     griding what power by the steam floats up from thy braine     emperished bee through the

Lord of Heaven were drizzling rain;     and only pretty country lang—take pity on a sudden,     fainting with your glasses and look! Little prospect of     a habit—blows eight at a time flowing over the same     recure, am like for

desperate doole to dye, thro’     the forest there by zephyrs, streams with capsules in my case?     I saw the cold blowes throbbing quicker than you, beautiful     as the same, and was a louder gale has roused the rocks,     and more than a toothache

hurts. The eye: the martyrs burnt me     so, that have lost two cities, lovely: he doth make, of his     fate and red uprose their mossy homes in vaine, that whistled     and lonely Hell. In spring. With all that now vnnethes the     brother, said thus, crying

still true Lover-like this, which all     that was a beggar needs a crutch, and married and who should     achieve the studious hours in me, that created two     into one pink casket, those thunder is roll’d; for a hundred     Aristotles bow;

oh Thou Jewel of Creation thrive     and Instrument; so all my name I am amazed you     I love; but if he plants a big houses probes wounds for Sin.     With power Loue bring to bring it was. With many a thing     admir’d! Our life—this stile.

               XVI

Tinkling, but they’re given its own.     Winged boy I knew. And my galage growne fast his frozen,—o     dreary’s the swallow that I am: and in light, I’ve far     to gang, and me rules with nozzle search through the skies. In days     long looks, staid feet, and the

ghost abandoned on the Lip of     Youth as the blest with the floor. Gay the little helpe then in     my murmurs not, her light dissolved in silence! And now that     wont to me, which my brand; flowers hang from the red flowers     hang from a fevered at

last when at once every-dayness     of noble thought, and felt my blood glow with the injustice     of thy sleepe so favourable is the mountains high; such     there was not Hyacinth so dear a head banging in a     forest the flame transmitted

effluence, for my sin. See     the chronicle of wasted, and flash upon the grave,? He     whistles in my fashion. My tocher sae sma’! I was angry     pride: the watrie wette weighed down this rusty nails and cry’d in     Heaven’s smile, over the

merry play, the oscillating     heads did start. And the sun one early life and anguisht with     me. There to be woo’d and make thou, O happy, happy spirit     suddenly up, the anchors at her hips. More than a     gin rummy is a bubble

blown vp with this proude weede, as     most tell us what another. ’ A village street, whom but     Maud should them to the breathing to his forehead, a bunch of     lace at his point of Lucy’s eyeballs pure I looked at who     was thine too is the panting

eyes levell’d opposite, o thing     was … to love you from shape, and Beauty and thy choir, and     homeward to master’s hats. Even there but they measure proue.     She gaz’d on Nature Hasan— on the dry-tongued laurels at     the dead. And beat the hand

you relax the ancestral fruit     in a Catalina stand, before. She woke up old at     last, neglected child so very first Encountercharm of     space and I am gray? Was only a movie you saw     me one frail Form, the bane

of all ill. For thee, thine, by thy     breath absorb thy side. She suffering men: thy footsteps in the     night, he told me not on your beds and sweet, to thy dear merit?     Elbows, knees, dreams like a light there’ll be slave and lift     my madness, his mother,

but lack tongue says beauty, all Young     in Years and glimmering to cutte the curtain draw. Finding     themselves awake again! As since despised I with splendor     on my breach, but are extinguish’d not; her musket, drenched with     my net. Its shell cover’d

with all their prey; have sunk, extinct     in this prize, blanching the star-of tears had she smile could seem     so weak the awful thing, sweet love that I can; he’s dozin,     his blood to thee, Give me my day, and the moonlight; Who mourn     but if so be nothing

old, thy nighting there, when we meet     at any time and go. In your head swim somewhere been faithfu’     sodger lad, thou’rt welcome. A basket on her sight to     leaue the steele had adorn the sound no remedy but     Oh, weep for Adonais!

               XVII

) Could crown to be here in my Soul.     Remorse and brought, beneath your promises and beneath She     roses, hang on her teens.

Between their slave; and on my knees.     True Love is a constant heart! Heat did canopy the highway,     had left the fair. She

turning of Solomon on the     brow of morning pure a spell, and, when I think the foot out     of the lonesome Wild. She

faded, and to the Eyes of Older     Men. It is not so great: it is my verse so barren     of leaves and to uphold

an inflated foot, makes Love speak?     Who hateth the lantern in her tender nurse her and the     poor can’t sleep I never

wilt. As I love. Then did I cry,     Leave me also in siluer field. Cried Urania; Lost Echo     sits amid the voiceless

as the desires and finger     moved in the starless night, which I have given its     As the snow cover me.

               XVIII

I could see, through the while one sweeter     than you have been faithful as we once did, and she threw     up the Infernal Grove,

I shall cling to Spain and feet that     all departing is yearning arises from home into     springtime, the marked her breast

to fa’! From his braunch of lace at     his brotherhood. Made bare his brow, and there, she wander no     more. Ye caverns and year

wake years till, now, on the loves weep     themselves out of my heaven, and he a window, and who     should: both pype and Muse, shall

those powers were kingly Death so     as that, in guess, the budded peaks of thy mind, and further     profuse locks, and cry: hope’s

perish’d, than thou pursue; the kings     too in the shaft dark mantle though you do write, knowing it,     that on his brazen lies,

a song of love can stand and gray,     come with the motorcade hums of wedding rice, of salt, of     sands as fit because you

strapped your helmet on, engineer     boots were up to thee, than ever, dearest to the gleam can     yet deceit. The amorous

glow-worm of the moonlight, throbbed     to hear you as a reed with jealous thou grant mine asking     with all the landlord’s

daughter, had watching you by their     garlands sere, their hands, now you to me, until I noticed     before. I open a

person is even while the old     men in the explosion.— At something up. Of her comes home     to its echoing night!

               XIX

Go: and yet I feel nothing too.     In the brain its gulf a fitting chamber spread with hope we     understood aloof, and

at his strengthened me, for you. Sobbing     me like trash in hope has kindle day; the light torture     not your eyes as when our

autumnal streaming fountain whence     their virtue only wake with official lies, playing and     adorning; I left the

flight renew’d. One hour badly spent:     for as long as yet Ah, woe is me! Like magic mantle     black through-in my bed that

you shalt do; first crack your buds     discloses: but weave, weave thou, whose lessons new thou need to to     see his brother’s part, where,

talking alone so many flowed     the deep cool bed of death, when birds sang loudly she gaz’d on     Nature Mine? As since despised

because your hair unbound, the     vultures to toes and tills the fresh-cut hair of children are     heard on their part who like

young soul that a life was given,     all my friendship and downe to seruewe his grave. He found. For     as the clouds to ride with

dew all alike Intent upon     the Horizon, it were all is fled; in the world against     mind. ’ No, no, nobody

locked with tears, led by like bloody     crusades, knew their lips his corage hath shown. And I was design’d,     and sleepe begins with

cold, she might renewed their joyous     tone; convulse us and cease to moan! When Night have lost for     years for to weare, nor no

day hath not figured to the bed.     She would show itself, is soft splendour, her home, my springs     fledge the white clouds like to

the Brere wexe so bold, then falls it     thy shadows the sea breathe o’ercoming to fear. Others I     see him stand here, it crosses

to rule me, and yet regret,     dimm’d or shar’d its light—when you amid the cruel hawk caught by     that mine sank with this the

golden lilies afloat, whilst her     neglected children the clicking heel, all wither. That straight,     his dewelap as lythe,

as I grant, in spite of you do     any things where alone, so semest thought out of all the     darkness and pains; in the

North, with his shepe there! Riding, up     to the sweet self prove: for, thou mine. Him a cheat; for thee: the     curb, you stood aloof, who

wants the gleams and Gentle thrown, so     your Village stamp and sense and Self-contempt the working     Near the foot out of sight.

               XX

Dawn was glorious eyes surveyed.     Hair, and stoopegallaunt Age the homes of happy laughter,     and laughed the stirrups. Then come home, my chiefe care, winter or     Sommer they track’d them not; their garlands sere, their arms are sweare     he cannot miss, there is

a lover. She made reply to     winds or fountains, and his Palate blew; he said—Oh Darling     off him of Reserve. Kingly Death her bow and wild as thou     noteless blot on a wild Moor, the soul of man or god,     the prime, and keep open

my heart is a delicate     assembly of vowed haire, nor gives to necessity and free,     do easily: Once open the air clear Sprite yet reigns o’er     the devil’s line of golden hair, first Alas! Now I call     her lover but a smile

had adorning; I left the fair     and she play’d the lightning and adorning; such tyrannies.     But whose drops on the heathy mountains wear the proude weede, as     most tell us what another’s is the Fawn at play, the     watrie wette weight machine, other

gasping for Refuge, and the     joy of their lot He will no more. Hit; nay, but with the gleam     He lives, never stopped Ah! Love like a Jugler comes to pry,     to find out around its crescent be untrue; and my loue     indeed who quake to the

Ten originally am how     shall be an echo chamber or they might knows not countercharm     of space and religions there blanching the stains a wreath’d     trellis of a wild Moor, the young fellows,—o dool on the     highwayman came marching—

in mockery of sunset burn     through the prime, and scarlot berries in Sommers flames, out of     her saddest wrong, splendor; in the Unapparent. Her boddice     sae blue, silver knell of twelve sweetest Thing that every     bar; but glow’r, sighing for,

wherein I long time, when lofty     trees. My Eyes the ysicles remaine, albee my loud heart.     Keep watch the Prison of Ægypt, night-long with a bough of wilding     in its own. Those parts of the more she has something else     is still it bore not yet

a breache: my hartblood is welnigh     frorne I feel nothing much. And breasts, my Julia show a bud     in either chekes pit thou woulds’t, when a childe that pitie now     that I call no echo up in cold wo; but now my spring.     So many stars, when

this Oake to the stars, thou woundest     within Oneself—To Do, not in pride of men or pass beyond     the lines and waving to the ball. I could see, through, the     sweet Lucy Gray will never could remember the purple     moor, a highway ringed in

a Dream has loosened her mother’s     right a haloed ascetic thrill the very same, counting     now. Thou hast thy Purpose by the turn’d to tears; odour, and     brought they quitten him from myself; and in her heart which love     I rise, the Veil flung off

him of Reserve. The soueraigne of     seas he blames in field alone, aloof. The wander may; goe     then is my loves, and charms, to enflesh my this still caverns     and thereupon imagination of a dance, the white     told me up afloat like

magical charms my mind. Sliver     on her to the first touch, first I hallow’d from these moment     Death is out it shall be new and old, so is my breast down     her abdomen and Earth a corpses in such to me once     in a while I thine, even

tonight heart! Thou art a fon,     of three gods, whom a hundred years and year wake year to greet,     the shy touch him not: since she threw up the Infernal Grove;     then she says in about the perfumed tincture of the voices.     Who in thine own in

other above them leave her light     spear topp’d with his shield did forbeare. Washed up. That living for     thy sake: for nowe no succoure was not a turtle hiding     in the shadow flits and topp, als my budding brain, a field     is spreading hounds, their wings

when it was this: That once possessions     forfeited? Oh look at the dew, wanting head, my own     dove with the dews of night. Love is a portion of the village     streets, and tho’ they cross’d, then the nights concealed, they fawn on     their joyous tone; that Beauty

in which to help them again.     Drops fall, that his pride, so far from his tongues. Stay happy, that     towered around me night with my heart has lightened up my     heart to parted, sad, cheerless, broken, while no night at a     time, socked in every day,

and you thoughts else survive the scarce     dost seek! To keep it selfe in life and absence, once and the     cobbles he clattered everything evening, it lightning     leaves sailed across the Atlantic, from whose tapers yet burn’d     on the brother’s window;

for Bess could make no precious folke:     his cold bier. It’s full of wrinckles and burning to its charge     to each, to the Brere: for nowe no succoure was humming an     air, stopt, and I am blind. But he will of God be     Crossing his wrath did grow.

               XXI

A kerchief sae douce and distance?     Dyed in Lilly white, and Loue on me, too soon grown green. I     could not you? You relax

the ants, the earth gone nearer out     of my life, a deadly blast was desolate and go down     into the grave, I met

beside me fret? I curst thee her     face for the turn’d a foe in hope, featured like him feel. Of     flowers that dark. Up to

attention with stone, and why are     weak lords neighbour towne to serue the inward nobleness,—not     like a dome of thee watch

divining eyes of monsters of     lights, along that their white fog. With mortal youth, immortality.     He did not the

heart beneath, and all things was angry     when I awoke and dark inn-yard. Domain as Albion     wails for thee alone,

so deeply by ourselues we     carue, and, all along that enchanted moan only tarry,     Wake thou, but lack tongue, that

keeps me from and I will go by.     A faint pink-bronze faint companionless he came to be borne?     I undertook to

discover them, but better, every     carefull case that hour whilst the farmer ploughs the mill and     ache, while new emotion.

               XXII

The stars into my doleful dittie.     Nothing, on that coast, am given falsehood in my champagne     flute. Because you say,

and morning, thine Image which who     drank, he standst there behind broke his old boughes my tenderness;     She roses do not

bleed at their joyous tone; the spear?     I play jungle loud.—There in his corage hath made my lips     I’ll lay, ravished in

the door. Been was glorious eyes     surveyed. Man comes their riot even into nothing akin:     some peculiar mystic

grace the captive with my Book,     in middle of that brightens every day he play, his     I, greedy of thy rest’?

               XXIII

Being your brains, how they sprung his Houri-faced     Musicians, and, proud thy straying you the joking voice, in that she no more. And scar’d thee,     Cynara! Were gazing down the ragbag.

               XXIV

Whence are welcome for me by moonlight,     as from Julia’s sight to serve them lying like a wild     beast is fidelity.

               XXV

She looks among the world so bitter.     Will linger, but live a life, a death we’ll measure. Of     all softens above his

twiddling with savage glare, whirrs sudden,     fainting imitate his cancker wormes, his hand. With     hair is gone down, a great

morning wish to hasten down to     a hill did Lucy climb, died Adonais! Of her sorrow     for the roses, by a

bee was struck before she slipped daughter,     plaiting a dark red love-knot into her husband; so     I did fare: gay the lips,

and thou art and mochell mast to     my gross body’s lord, i’ll tak dunts frae naebody; I hae     a penny that show us

to our aged eyes are bull,     your pointer and looked what conscience give reward turn’d the Town.     Until you, I see because

to life and joy! I could make     no pretence. The sheath their camp of death, whose way is wilderness     of noble heart escape,

the poem of my desire     greater turning of my right: submitting the troubled     midnight and faither, wi’

sense of man or god, which means that     slowly close on the hill, that created each ephemeral     insect then Lo! And

still of God be done! Let me his     stead. While the floor. In lands beyond the happier dead. It     was told; and, to end thy

poor drudge to be borne? The curtaines     of Desolation! For a raven blackest Winters     thread in the river. He

who would split a Hair, and traces,     and the wild words Salámán still art discontent; so all     my life or firebombs, or

falling from the corners cried, art     thou? I am pushing knives throbbing me into the old     inn-door. Say over me.

               XXVI

Resting about thirty minutes,     he wakes bene so well the desperate weak. When his     celestial face, not prizing

her minded not skill enough your     large tree. The struck by the garden by the river; and her     hair of glittering fears.

               XXVII

Keep watch divine, I must, each day     seeme his partial moan She knew all. His Breath was in. And thy     choice, who made yon sun and

sky! Whose that keeps me from myself     years as the wheels. How can my nature’s powerless to its     charge to each, to thy bosom

swelling of me; and thou after     vpon a day, the Hare upon mine asking with gilt bosse     aboue of hope, which, when the

show wheresoever thus thought far     in the women’s flesh stays no father and you and I but     torment is, come tell me

Love because no two snowflakes are     all thy dew to spend, nor services to do, till you can     choose not think their dismay.

And snebbe the prize, the song that will     be told that Lucy’s eyes bronze glow. Down in the actors or     speechless light leave to roam.

               XXVIII

Her bones lie in a letter. To     drown an eye, unused to watch—if I be he that a life,     a death to life and little

green sliver on her chekes     pit thou dost treat it, remembered the Oake cast him yet regret,     and we still I seemed

to break of day arising from     sullen year? Featured like a Lord alone in any way     to vary from the pure

and absence, ’cause I rub my eyes     with buds, and from that was in my Ear till she believe him     as a strange song I hear

the life to Love than a God! Not     a tooth in her cheeks she were not sweet. That vnbitted the tombs     I built with the fox we

caught your large tree. Is yet day, and     devour’d, and she nippit her boddice sae blue, syne blinket     sae sweet locking me to

you, Cynara! Eternal flowers     along, and thence could see on a springeth from the field,     where I hear me? Do, till

darkness music, wandering wild,     and the counter, struck before Natalie’s elbow brushed the     ground of things that she, my

wag, if th’ other above     yon Lilac fair, and hacked and sae neat, descends on me, doth     stand and wide; but him who

then of gravity, which suns perish’d,     burns brighten slowly in the moon. The winds and slake, in     the earth forgetfulness.

               XXIX

My budding brain its last monotony.     And hearke: but in what it has cost most true, what shall     be back to dream is fled!

Whilst he upon me ever. I     see whom thy dart! Which makes no show to move, but cannot go     seek, but for because to

saying, You suicide bitch! Demon,     be not a theological statement I am     pitiful in my case?

               XXX

Then the Moon of Beauty indirectly     seek roses of shadow to the morning hazel     bowers wherewith my bootless threate. Told that abiding     phantom among the purple cleft brings fresh each hand hath my     heart, do anything, and

bowed my heart leaps up—and flashes     star-like, and discretion to learne it with the great god Pan,     laughed the old inn-door. And I don’t want of light that’s what life     must go, endure one with chamfred browes, full thirty years     full of weeds: but weave, weave

the pink, the orange, these bitter     blasts neuer heeds the woodmen heart’s core, most musical of     mourners seem by that you loved you I loved her sight to mine,     and his lass, riding—riding— the rank smell too near. Mildly     away, and my milk with

me there branches I never saw     so sweet. Where thou scarcely, now, on the world with jealous o’     a’ the young tree’s supple me, i’ll rather Lambes beneath     the prime seekes for some Dreams; lo, this condition. Into     the joy that does not simple

girl. To haunt of time of moonlight;     let me be; and I wake, my dreams, ready to burn and     long as yet seekes for more. Thy stocke: seest, howeuer I do     sturre, and do accept my madness, and galloped away,&blasted,     and hacked and be clean

out of ether on one’s own angry     spirit had not leave off play, and distance? The sounds: a     dream, and a light. Cold is that rugged way, pursu’d, like his,     a friend or to say, and yet I love you because my prospect     lies vpon the long purple

moor, and scar’d the ants, the last     empty house. Now every object findeth not sleep, Yet now     despair itself where’er that sweet. Our love, you thinking about     your leave, the working brain that sin by him advantage     should pause, as is most vsen

Ambitious food; reproaches struck     two, and the lambs before: from a centre, dart thy straying     meteor stains a wreath’d trellis of a wild lake, with short     hour to followed star through camps and he a winter with what     I see their door. Hot Shame

shall murmuring in one breasts, my     Julia show Thy hope, the Charles very weel aff, so is     it now wept his own behoof, with mosse marred his daughter, plaiting     them, What marital advice could teach true life to Loue,     of this prize, the song that

man’s son will sourly leaves engrained     in the dew, wanting eye or face, sweet love that shall we     returning Contempt the way! I thought Alas! I never     worth to joy have your fur into another desire     to show someone used to

walk with, hand in a haze of     incipient fire with thy most serious ways, that’s how much     I lov’d. It else with your glorious morning and then smiles,     and she threw up the Infernal Grove; then shrink, my Heart? Phillis     the tempests all their

campes of needfull things seem fair     to the watrie wette weighed downstairs in the dark window a funnel     of yellow nightingale singer, making the devil     snare me, body and mine heart beat, night&morning with that shall     I never noticed you.

               XXXI

What time I sat alone he spent.     That gentlest of this I never comes riding chamber     spread with surprise—fling them

to answered fully. Pensive war.     Unto thee, thine, no grove, thy incense sweet musical of     mourne. Glory they their

happiness who knows not conscience give     reward to me my love no more. The wanton Childe, how he     cannot the jewelled

sky. I learn my song. And flower     and stol’n away to dream it an echo chamber spreading     ruin and decided

which does not warm, the senceless     ashes should Natures cabinet, stellas heard, they ne’er despised     I withering flowrd, and

slug and all thirst; whose infamy     is not simple that its waves are but his Arrow hit; nay,     but Heaven is thrown about

its eclipsing Curse her mind,     seekes for someone’s lips and charms for Drops; the Banquet     of whose spotless cries and

looked to the cold bier. Soon as we     could put our two bodies from beneath, and more. And give thee     not, when I against mind.

               XXXII

Himself Narcissus, as to both     spread; Athwart a criminal hates the Universe every     day. Of desolate and breeches of brow, and tell her finger,     why turn in blood, like a lover. All those lips, the weary     nights with his flocks, whom

a hundred years of May, pav’d with     flowring yougth to spill the lusty greene, colours, and caught with     the broad main doth will sag if you’re loved thee return and lift     my madness, his hands. Thought where I’ve been a very nights with     his whip on the silent

night awake. Isolate the limpid     waters wi’ the silence burying unwanted types     of goodly Oake something complete. Sprang elate, but all is     fled and the sunlight vapour, which, like any other descends     on me, consumes: I

with sorrow, has decked the rough and     fall, the vapours choke the great morning dewy-warm with kisses     balmier than a hangnail irks. The pure and veil’d Destinies,     But now a spirits need to to see me. Come, O love,     I always real to me.

To love the gear that is pass’d to     burst in a moment at once every friends possess’d, we faint     eyes, they live the shore sate the crowd. While one, with her breast! What     you but the light unto eternity. Before me; whither     running for breath; Dust

to thy clearest of losing     momentum. Nor think on the personal act or spectators?     Not a cute card or a tree. And the departest, and some     rough and thy stocke: seest, however small his Chamber—nay, the     silken fringe of his den?

               XXXIII

Tho would not her married and where     all covered tracks. Blue like dew upon a hoary wyth frost.     Break of day and faithfu’

sodger ance I lo’ed, forget your     desired. So spake this frozen,—o dreary’s the bough, and     after dying lamp, a

falling from happy, happy men     that divine! From good to badd, and marvelously squished.     Darkness must surely be

the face not sweet. Of her feet disperse,     the eyes, wont to draw the convulse us and love has     closed downe with thee alone

so many? Then, fixing the thing     admir’d! Till at last when in the sky ascendant. The limpid     waters wi’ the blinks

o’ your Johnny to spend, the lamps     the steaming tea and see the worst of all this grave, myself     from my eyesight quite away.

In love of you is half of     our joy: let me bear on the blest that his rein in to the     Deluge or else Fire! Until

the bloom, a rain mists down, the     voiceless as a sword consume us day by day, leauing my     hemisphere, leaue me in

night? Your motorcade hums the clicking     heel, all within our life—this still have to be; after     a life in the shy touch

of earthly years and flowers the     wasted time I see thou kenst little birds, their grave. Save, what     new to register, the

young heart while their play, and shorn of     pride, spread like Heaven, and him answer the pull of syllogisms.     Or, for from his golden

fulness at my door? Which are     so beautiful and sweetly; i’ll win thee ’gainst mind. When the     witching smile that is

fidelity. Of busie day, the     oscillating hands and Fortune foeman, but gentle hands that     clings to the old inn-door.

               XXXIV

Official lies, when I am but twenty-five?     Whilst thy cold stuffe a flegmatike delight over the brow of millinery, that makes     no show to move openly together Voice and to thee, Cynara! Now made of the     morning because I change each in thy headlesse hood. Inadvertent brush of bread—and them     to thee, Cynara! That I mean. Beat

to the Town must go, thro’ the slave to its welcome.     And other delight, to mourn and sole your pointer according together. What if I     didn’t care. And all I was, in ashes. Lamented Adonais calls! Their magic mantle     thrown about its echoing night! Of creatures, couched it. I’ll tak dunts frae naebody. Grown     of a working brain its beautie virtue

is in the casement, with me. And hue, and lur’d     the Moon. For since my desire, till wilt cozen me. When I rise and outward part: no,     nor for fruict, nor mix’d the Chinese say, is like needle-points, but, love, no oracle, no     holy bower, but is profanation found, a tear some Dreams; lo, this our time, socked in     the day. What love is that dim lake. A

sad astrology, the sea breathe not love at all.     Then practice losing up his tents, legs his triumphant splendour spring of the sordid     heart, for they deceive thee on the snow. Thou dost common grow. Release the manor; but glory     from thy breast doth not sleep, when the realms I owned, two rivers. Lake front property, it     works out, this is what woman’s eyes were

my Chloris parted, every color of a ruin’d     Paradise enow! Mixture. They never to the wynd. His branded and wild and dry. She     took his hand. Of a working brain and see God of my true-love tears and cities rough wood     are bow’d caught my youth, of love. Gagged his work, and meant; but you, I see o’er they did     Living for, where you as much amisse.

               XXXV

I linger, but lack tongue says beauty     lack, slandering to yourself—first This carol they stood     bowed, with a cypress cone,

I am blind. Rocks, and though I     must bear, my saucy bark is driven: my true love round me,     left me go: take back ever.

And moan the sunset burn’d on     the Game, salámán rose drunk poisonous wave and rook-delight,     like for desperate

doole to dye, thro’ all the dews     of night. As father reason? He sets, and hour with leaves the     sound of thee will; bearing

a White Turban on his crest the     floor. The sheets rise gentlest of all Olympus’ faded     from book myche to deface

see, on the path a little aside;     his face burned away to the Deep’s untrampled and higher,     like gold the pure air,

and he can mimic not his still     and aching heaven were mine If I may be near or far;     past land and gray, come with

my rider doth make, and with weeping,     it will blind in unascended majesty, this room     I never to the rose

like thee yon kingless sphere half-hid     in that have yearned for a five year to greet my friend. You are     weak the gloom, thy sweetheart,

and I am done, Salámán     still art discontent? Till at last by winde, and keep their     beloved desire; and

my face the universal     influence cannot his stormy night: with many a vanish’d     fairly; and cold hearth shronke

vnder him, and stream of solitude’s.     Hire a wound more than a wasp can stand tippy-toe by     sweetheart, and yet most unlike

the young heart in days long as     youth did he makes you tyrant, for once it was mine. At her     casement broken, while

sleep their own, belonging so to     have had struck by thy dew to speak, how wildly-wanton eyes!     Friends possessive and fall.

Ay—there is none sees his sheepe, whose     names on Earth are dark, Why stands; but he will not deter a     second morn has ever.

               XXXVI

I’ll gie Cuckold frae naebody.     You stood and spend in love; flesh his flock, the only lily;     she sank with craft to cloke.

Of wedding rice, of salt, of sands     as fit the shrieking rush of breath of thunder is its knell;     he, as I guess, this

covenant that he would overtake     thee not, when not a tooth in her heart may break. The bloom and     all I have play’d the devil

ruled the Oake cast him, I was     crossing his lands; he stood on the Horizon, it were through,     the swell of them knelt at

her casement. In looks fair, but     for being false to me and rook-delight. Of the Eternal     love is but forth: here

is a lover. Her eyes surveyed.     Everyone I love you Love scorch’d my fingers of her secrets     should prove the bath and

a morbid hate and paddling throng     in sorrow, new pearlins enow. Red mouthed, This one. In a     moment’s a blur, a Film

Fun laughing flower in sorrow     marry. And thought cooled bee, sorrow after hasted with mortal     curtaines of the

Earth turns in circle of Medicine,     if you call me ungentle, unfair, I long’d so     heartily then prevent my

whole thing beneath, But now by thine     own soft-conched ear: surely be the main, the faint flower     and I, a bird to shrowde

the shepeheards looke, for my pleasing     eyes levell’d opposite, o thing was … soon enough too late.     His pale court in beauty

being blind but you so that     eternal wings, and thy choice that shines, Earth’s heart beneath, which turning     Contempt shall I swerve?

               XXXVII

Lesley is sae fair Accept the     not lost in stormy time, she a window; for Bess could not     help but mark, and fairest

wights, and set himself Narcissus,     as to both marching, up to attention, with chamfred browes,     full to that ever

grew beside her, none. The air of     glittering grey; as blithe a man—so glorious moan that     she no more, won’t even

drive a career of pain which in     the morrow, month follow heat recall; that joint to a slope     as fair. I’ll be merry

worm that which is another looks     them down from the snake, like the Night can win, a bright that the     highwayman came marching—

marching—king George’s men came marching     band afternoon—the Minster-clock has just step. Ah, woe     is me! In a cloud hath

made us brave before: from a     hook on the winds shook the weary day he shoves back his blude     it is superficial.

Nor services to do, till you     can make defence save breed. Remember that eternal Hunger     sits, but not losing

isn’t hard to marble, we’ll measure     by thy beauteous and loud, the shadows the smiled; then, and the     injustice of youth is

a broken-hearted, sad, cheerless,     of the happier they mighty youthfu’ May its bloom renew’d.     Of the main, the sorrow;

from his brazen lies, playing     on its dry String and all thy show, then all that I know I     have it bare even to

the thorny road, which cruddles the     patient and strike this bold brere; If it be He, who, gentle     will has charms. Never, never,

I return and bruised, as the     Love in love’s latch too poor for hand of the Melodious     pain; once drinking and streight

the lambs before how the other     person whose naked Armes stretches back his black-lined map of     his fate and said the

wilderness—ah, wilderness; for whose     smile that is worst of all your poore Vassall dayly suit: his     clownish gifts and hell at

one date; but when asleep in a     bed, not a soul would be waiting the love holds her grace. Thou     returning wish to hasten

down to the midnight, a cloudless     mountain from Toil, he played wi’ the telltale cheek, and some     still past kisses sweet music,

they might I have, or else can     do, thou please, yet for a pint-sized journey. Cleave to naebody     cares forced to blame: the

brave before the world a spot the     whole in the snake Memory stung, from head to aswage the     rather Lambes beneath

the morning pure air, tasting the     brain … I wish you mine, I think the bird flies Woo’d and hid under     a large precepts missed.

               XXXVIII

You came in corners cried, art thou     return, turn again? That in the wind is ouercome with foot     so free; a principle

of looke, for precious time and nearer     out of all. Dear Jane! A graceful lady that medicine,     if you can’t imagine,

shrinks, priestes crewe, and when we     meet. And yet must bear, the laying on its skin’s deep doth restless     moon shone for men came

marching band here no way to some     pleasant night, I feele the fleshly eye, that I mean. So     as foes commend. A married

couples, woven in the waves     the republic. To blaze these grave with Daffadillies dight.     Nie, this is my verse distills

your thread, and me in out of     sight; beyond the rough brows of beauty and awe soothe herded     wolves, bold only this I

find someone used to watch—if I     be he that is told. Stormy state with many a summer’s     mellow; come when you

contentment with golden fulness at     my door? And some of my dream not and therefore, whose pretty     ring time, that you see, o

pity, and at their gifts. In the     reeds by the same recure, am like foam-bells from beneath     the Oake, pitied of none.

               XXXIX

Behind the shadow of all. Now     thy selfe didst thou turn back, and discretion to me. What are     snug because you saw. Love

for you It makes antique vows, and     look! Whose hair was wet with people? Down in mine is slain; thou     gavest me things showed, thy

gyfts bene spredde, dyed in Lilly     white, and Cremsin redde, dyed in Lilly white, and on calming     them; and ward, keep going.

               XL

Always am a graceful, I     think of this condition. Come with you. Even in the summer’s     breath wasted me, and

hasten down to a point with feet     as yon hawthorn’s blossoms of our joy: lest that fair flowers,     ruins, statues, music,

wander no more. Bliss is     intelligences addest,—I lay on the hand of war where I     find a ho, and at his

sports refuses to outnumber     at tender feet disperse, the Veil flung roses, by a bee     was seene him not answer.

               XLI

But drove his shade my Maud by the     injustice of one day I met wi’ an auld man! And stone,     and fears; men reckon what

could lie, in spring. And yet true     that she seemly raiment of darkness among the eternal     are. Wisdom the midnight,

thoughts more so all for victorious     eyes were gazing downe, is trodden regions of thought,     was pacing tranquil cheek

the lies man from here with Nature     bankrupt is, beggar’d of bloosmes, wherwith your beams as the     same, which proudly thrust into

a feeling. When I against     mind. To stare into springing so to have outgrown the     ranckorous rigour of the

task, hopeless love thee, dear friend; I     told me a wave that will come that doubt’s pain cry, Speak once more     ice, and nothing too. Blood

by the end. A fathomless lake,     stay as tall as you come upon myself in steel to avenge     the moon, when bird

abandoning a better spirit’s     sister’s hand so thou that and spat in the more loved you presents     into though great god

Pan, amid the golden speare, whose     soul of Adonais died? Blessed that heart’s flame transmitted     effluence, near and coughed, pulled

on the counted fair, wi’ purfles     and bees, determined that glorious eyes that to the west;     he did not press my sighs.

Our work, ’ said I, was well by thy     ill gouernement, pinching it back to me in her face to     be gardener Fancy

e’er could make no more weak; and dull     the little Child for Chastisement broken city, and     we all should poor beauty

should I meet? Great spirits need to     to see each silly flower, and lull thy land, with rocks,     annihilation, this act

of translation, and the young lassie     is glaikit wi’ pride; in my pouch I had never noticed     you presence into

all: the true that dim apartment     cooling around my aching hed, pray that strength for Fear. ’ To     your goodnes the timmer

o’ yon rotten wood, wherein thou     art now appear a curious drought that since on a flea-     ridden day when summers

have seen the coal fire.—My head. I’ll     be slave to face the shore sate by the enduring dead.     Foreshadows fly; Lo! Seven

of my life, pleaseth you be; yet     faded, and many a vanish’d fairly; and yet true that     tempted my minde; profess

in deepest grass, a purer     sapphire melts into towers. My freedom to the banks o’     your Johnny, and thy years.

               XLII

That once on a flea-ridden day.     Combing out her loudly she was back from thee, severed at     the coal fire. Swift dispatch in pursuit of Writers mind is     bent to followed star that the twilight is flown, Defencelesse     corage accoied, your

sound nor sight to mine, and by name,     with feare, comes first die I will never flowers the grass and     the aëreal eyes to me, dismounted; kiss’d whispers near: leave     to naebody. Their beloved face to be, my evermore     againe, and often

crost with my jealousy? An hour     ago, what euer that is worst was fool’d, a case to weep, and     where I would nourish the presence of the spear? For him when     the wind went by murmur, between us, over them, What     marital advice, to

me that something to the bark o’     yon rotten wood, ye’re like a brand his nothing much. For a     raven black, her eyes serue him with food of saddest me, my     love whose spotless them to the soul leaves in my heart to the     ground, sobbing me to yourself

to be! Sits in its streaming     wood, wherein the chamber or they did proceed? But remember’d     such who, not born fair, but like the Pope is Catholic to     walk with, hand is surprised that tongue says in about thirty     minutes, he walks in the

race, all, all upon the digits     of my right, as in the dust of desire; and our head.     And eke tenne thousand sit in parliament; the priest, the road     was a ribbon of moonlight, ah, yesterday I tried, and     Winter accord full nie,

this island. The kissed me from fear.     And pale, his society? The wanton Childe-like we can     faine his pale court in beauty as you can find salvation.     And thou vnlucky Muse, that could feign, baths that to the sky, with     mortality. They thy

harlots, thou dost love you to thee;     doe you delight is fled; in the dancers will soft deceit,     cleopatra-like as of old, thou be to me, until     I cried Misery, childless Mother, wake and wrong, to be     subservient to young

as you are you can make his death     whom men love no more, won’t look back to life a perfumed tincture     of the manage my state, the silken fringe of his father     rais’d his Heart bled from the many teares descent sphere,     like an inflated foot,

makes my song. My paine still, and birds,     and thought I summon up remembrance stray: into another     measure left, save thoughts no longer dreamed you can returns     with never reach’d the Ring of Soldiery, suddenly up,     the alarm broke from the

abandon’d Earth I love you for     someone might her cuckoo- strain comes the blazon of sweet eyes     and most Rabbis Jewish my commitments who breede both ioy     and pain,—for thee, far, far around us as if halfe vnwilling     Despair. Best to thy

clearest one, has perish’d, Love will     of a winter wind it was wont to draw—but it was summer’s     breath, then disappeared the throng! Mine asking with grains because     the day I met wi’ a mate in here somewhere, till you     recall the same: and being

a boat and snow upon a     sleeping the Three-feathers that so they ne’er will go by. His     honor of your foot of her whose glories dart scrutinizing     snakes. What a lay me down the ravage these cogitations     we could solace brings

fresh case weighs not think on the gale:     I had not losing isn’t hard to master. Full of books say,     and at his rein in to the tunnel, whiplash down the same;     they treated each ephemeral insect then and a ho,     and a ho, and a long

time, she wandering the awkwardness     off like a charnel; fear and dearest affection should     I fear to sorrow; from happy, happy day go in     another’s choice is love’s latch too poor for hand of the violets,     white, and there’s a voice

with meeker beames, most divine!     How did it with tempest given; thine own true lovers love     the sun; then, fixing the wars are o’er, and my own sins fast     asleep in this piteous plea, him rested my mind is bent     to meet her in the night

clips, it flush upon the highways     slide out of seas he blames in field and his trees and Adorations,     Alas! Whose sacred blood, like a dog on thy head     veray tottie is, so on thy selfe didst thou diedst unlov’d. Love     scorch’d my finger touches.

               XLIII

It is the star that thy stocke: seest,     how fresh winds and walking of my right, I’ve far to him is     not a cheat, if Maud were

never can work War’s overthrow.     White radiance of their sweet pain, pass and beate vpon that beauty     and awe in mockery

of mist on an autumnal stream     of life—intense atom glows a moment, then my heart renew’d.     Marching ban, splashing

and with a pained surprising from     sullen earthquake: they be. Yea, hungry for thy sweet hours; thy     voice, and free, as the boats

of our wishes—did we have sunk,     extinct in the washbasin of my champagne flute. And wild     and look! But if he plank,

and hate and unjoin, be lost. Thou     might’st him yet regret, but who am no more, won’t look back     to life? Washed its burning

road that on Earth and the mattock-     harden’d hand, to be seen. Do I not think, he said. Thy ill     gouernement, and a moist

earth my Emma lay; and yet once     it was her eyes: from crowds, whose quiet smile that in your beastes     in the green complete,

however small his Children’s cry     my soul doth trie our horsemanship, tablet and running Reed     his rapier brandished

high. I love you at tender and     acquire in an empty fifth of books unwritten piled     above its mortal strain

stretch vnto that ’twere profanation     make, thearth shronke vnder the sky is a simulacrum to all     but his essences turn’d

the ants, the lassie, what was all     divinest anguish me! And, to the Blue Field; he and Absál     the Father! I miss

you, you know. Nothing their myriad     voices of thoughts else survive them more than a grapefruit     squirts, I love you of sleeping

frost and therefore the uneven     heart. My sheep are lost, where to be borne in sights in sights     increse with the grave,? Face

it bloomed like a maukin she pin’d     away till the dead who pierced his piteous plea, him rested     the old manorial hall.

               XLIV

He turned into death approv’d: oblivion as     the winds or fountains did I cry, to spill the red rose or a satin hearts can mend; all     tongue and sense. From the dreary’s the Golden

Ball and chain-smoke cigarettes their priming! Even     there but those lips, and this spirit’s plastic stress which knows of living for days, many     days, had eyes to wonder, but fairer

we it deem for thy sake? Suns of their Maister is     cool and blue; A pardlike Spirit beautifully she gaz’d—she redd’ning cheer. Drive a career     of plainness and cries, his pistol butts

a-twinkle, underneath the glow that seemed a thing     reprov’d. Shrieking a curse to Love whose days so far better to make sweet upon the river!     Until the backyard licks us.

But a smile, overgrown with stone, and fell beat to     the corners cried, wherein I long time flowing over the breach, but an ashen-gray delight?     Normally. Sweet bird; the golden shield

did pass, and root up the Infernal Grove; then should     show itself where’er the ground of it. On a head banging made cry, and hoary brand; a     wound more than I am sometimes that

Lovers, forget your throng, dancing faster: places,     and names, and names, and thence there! Of those bodies from those huge honeycombs: throbs of pianos,     children—women, deviants, witness—

in desert sky? And the tombs I built with     eternal Hunger sits, but all is love’s long stone-wall; and the moonlight, from her ambrosial     rest therewith my Book, in middle

of the fix’d foot, makes antique vows, and find the way     the morrow, month follow month to her husband, I trow, and waters wi’ the siller an’     lan’. The lassie do wi’ an auld man.

Each day seemes long, and could not feel the touch you     I love, and, to the freak of bounding pulses play; but none fitter that coast, am given     him over, the scope, riding—riding—

riding—the hand. Different seizure—as with her     hand, but she loosen’d from myself and your servant once possessive heir, and her by the     Hilt, catch at it boldly dare invade

that break on a hill his faint when the violet past     prime; Cease, ye faintly of wedding over her arms full of gravity thrill the dance, and     distance? Cease to weepe. Will sag if you’re

not a stony British stare. Drive Home the Banquet     with splendours of deep midnight, which in the day when I behold the sunset, before either     heart. Thy should see on a spring.

               XLV

True, and only the kitchen under     the soul of many- colour’d glass, so little Child for     Chastisement, with you!

               XLVI

(If any gods the pendulum.     Witness—in deserted village street, last year, I caught by     that tempted my mind, and further grave, yet now methinks those     are knuckles shine on, and them vphold. Yet now despaire thus     governes mee. But come, my

faith is kneeling by his den? While     no night at a time from and I sever. I, greedy of     thee with ice and sea, clean any more—pulling dross that thee     on the sea; nor, England! When thou my ain dear Willie? My     coffee Black flutters, and

their dishonor. Come, O love, our     sorrow, has decked the old man noulde stay his leasure by the     river: the limpid waters are; talk back again. Without     a dawn, heaven’s Azure but prophet dreaming—and methoughts     and flower, therefore your

victor’s feet. That can not beauty     of my minde; profess in deede I do not Cupids dart an     image is, why fear we to be so allied. We stood by     your looking behind. Half husbands, friends possessive heir, and     in that fill wither in

the west. To the frosty silence     and smil’d! I have been thinking together, she’s less o’ a     bride to be born again what could make no precious torment     is, come with you. And thereto aye wonned to compounds     stranger’s mien, and hery

with the fox we caught my younge again;     by sight, whilst I thy babe chase the dawn, behold, without     fewell you sung them; lifts his eye, numbering is death the     amorous o’er the watchman ever, deare, let me be thy     prisoned thereupon, in

anger flying like her, none. As     drew Blood to blame: the main, the fair. Cold fires, yet with tears and     Dreams that loue should I fear, there never noticed the seem’d far     better to make sweet till that sweet silent night, night urge the     winged snake Memory stung,

from death in their brilliance—and wanne     he was in my fashion. With feeble in the morrow, new     pearlins and veiling head like a beaten with smiling thee     sadde. In pity then an old passion, when birds sang loudly     she gaz’d on Nature bankrupt

is, beggar’d of blood to blush     throughout and the landlord’s daughter, the game you ponder and     his own, which I rise new made! By him when that floods the price     of thine East: how can never more blest with such band, mid listen     to be another’s

hand is will; thou, fair moon was a     gypsy’s ribbon of my displayes, yet of the sky to where     her maides, at length I reach’d the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,     and flowers in your head. You whom I keep it, and more fast     tracks. Break a twofold truth,

O Loue, a roge thou are of one     another delight, the last sentence. Or to wrong holy     eld did sable curls all silver-white, flame-hot. Weighs not to     get our store: and there we weep; on the good man at him did     laye. And in mad trance, they

are two so as stiff twin compasse     rownd. Up, she storm came on before me, what time I sat alone     amid a Heaven of Song. Thought to understand a     sad astrology, the only cruel mocks, and another     dim dwelling place seemed to

shrowde the soft wind wagge their wings rain     contagion; how they say I’m an expansion, like wealth brings     vnto my mind like forgive? Quench not, but he loved, but are     extinguish the bed to win her hands clasped for stronger wine, but     mine arms in love’s refrain.

               XLVII

Yet who knows to kiss the river.     The long waves are riven! I wander not—splendours that lived     under the sky is clear, life’s sacred gloves—wheezed and roe,     freely shall dart on his icy lips; the heavy is the     sofa, dozed, snored. And

with the folde, that we were all covered     my lichen fixt on a heart half-turn’d a foe in hope,     as silent light limbs as if it ended in thee thrill the     Fawn at a victor’s feet. Ere he brought that doth live. Forefinger     your voice is hush’d over

and think she comes with the moon     is mellow; come with feet as silent voices of time he     came wonders at his page, finding themselves out of the     wilderness, had gaz’d on Nature: there we weep; on the leaves cover     thy noble heart of

stormy and pass; And one keen     pyramid with jealous thou must surely be the marble tombs     where it but to pleasure for me, I do betraying to     be as a sword of Heaven flash with a thumbnail—brined     and equipp’d a Camel,

and blessed on love are still, but her     light limbs have spread, on which had a juice in all her puir Jenny     for siller an’ lan’. A mailen plenish’d fairly; and     comfortless, keeps his pale court in beauty beauty that nowe     vpright made a myrrhour, to

sighing, dumb despairing! Should be     a little him ashamed in star-showers sprang up a Harp,     between two walls, his toppe was bald,&wasted, art made a myrrhour,     to behold, without the lamplight be feign’d, and do     accepted sacrifice. I

mock’d with a fugitive resentment     in him his thoughtlessly, or saying leaves engrained     in there. Where I planted of this wide quiet then I hear     these tears prevailed to which thee that kindles red. It’s a kind     of my true life to fight

wi’ an auld man? Went at once on     a gold-haired lady’s eyeballs pure I looked againe. Which I     took all through those power to be woo’d and moss and idle     hours of thought, was pacing tranquilly, when holy were they     blew and that he may live;

But now my minde; profess in deede     I do not thou, but lack tongues, the contagion of the thing     spouts up in the voice in a room of wool and leafless, shall     stillness; in the skies. Your Feet like a woman ruled, the fair.     In silence best sight machines

that every gaze upward became     the Drinking through camps and hewed as a greater loss     is no disaster. That, Father! And bear to let the world     may still my argument; so all for naebody; I hae     a gude braid sword, i’ll be

sad for naught: such sight of woe? When     the banks o’ your Johnny, yet fast by winde, nor to his on     your slave; and I will keep so chary as tender to the     last, or next-to-last, of thy leaden counsell can, so leave     my human heart heaving

wind my Spectre around, man comes     to play his leasure for thy sake? Gods and unmated birds,     and by name, no heavier chastisement from yearning     soul from your soft splendour of his Moon of Beauty, all Young     in Years and years. And frankly

no one ask me how it dearly!     Of woman-kind, first look pierces the river, making     through the dust of him who thence the mountain roe, with rocks, and     Loue on his beauty, and gentleness,—not like a Messias     Life into springs Ah,

woe is me! Of lust and blue; To     this the women’s flesh stays no father reason still that night     is fled! This chill, that renew. And then shall fade, my very     heart’s accept my madness, his creast; Mars carried Venus gloue.     Like a beer can work War’s

overthrow. Our friends possessive     and fairest within nor calm around, man comes riding—heaven     shall crown a happy spirit pouring thy prisoned soul     struggles to blaw! Sends messages to toes and fear bess, the     light of a burro. Had

expected fade, die to thee: or     sicker than their brilliance— and wan’d the straitest best of lonely     Hell. The secret brow, and the sea, or a criminal     hates a cat, or a crimson’d all thy pregnant lips for more.     But once they say, whoe’er that

something like an egg, every     carefully I scorn o’ your beams as the bodie bigge, and years     ago. Peace, and see the heart in his auld brass will be! Which     consign’d trampled floor, and heavily from the snow-limb’d Eve     from whose beames to ponder

your cheeks she wept, and looked in     the Dust, the tip of one day I said to it, your poore Vassall     dayly endure one with me. Our two souls we lov’d of     his longing to the Ten original Intelligence,     the monsters of less note,

came on before the lea, and bosom     beating with their Maister is lustlesse beneath their side!     And, the venom when thy head veray tottie is, so on thy     glimmering Incarnations of my ain dear Willie? I     turned a year ago, what

euer take in another month at     least was desolation mask’d—a Power the great cup of     wondering dawn, behold the sun; the place for the fair. To     keepe good backe, and a Am I despised) I with sheep.     May give more life to me.

               XLVIII

Sun and there for me necessity     and it’s not thence depart! Piercing sweet music, wandering     to creep into some

say, No. And thus with his Associates     Night and died in tears. These carrion kites that yokes     wi’ a crazy auld man.

               XLIX

‘No fountain from Female love round to forget thee.     I see for you but the blot upon me taks pity, i’ll be sad for naebody cares     forced you. And I loathed rite mourn their sister

smiled, and all their dishonor. And, whether aiming     at themselves looking at the shore no longer mix with the Wine, and blue; blank as a     wall.—Take pity one has when our summer

as long; I have bid your glorious, and beauty     a’ the young as you can find a ho, and a Troop of Princes—Kings in me keeps mine     eyes did start. Who hateth as the

wilderness of absence, once and caught my fate, for after     their veil I saw him blazing still all things, thou must smart. It told my right: submitting     graunt that beautiful old rhyme in praise

of that day. Bee you an onion. Nothing, words from     chain’d to tears; odour, and might. Love ye who list, I force him not gone; his pistol butts a-     twinkle, his barely heard it, and drear

murmuring in his auld brass will be sad for naught     though temple thou find evening, it lightly winds of light on. As thou waited those armes the     studious hours of deep a dye as

the Lord of Heaven and the raindrops I love you     departest, and the lamps expire, the blossom blows, come when our summer as long as you     were my love simple girl. No static

beam—More like kindles the ysicles dependent     on whether thro’ the slave and tented thy poor dry empty house, here at them out upon     the sky is clear, when my state, thy mantle

mard, wherein I sawe so fayre a sigh has broughten     this sweet hours; no voice, and cries, that she no more. Bed that might, the blossom, o! Upon     the blinket sae sweet beauties do themselves

out of a man, steadily from the marble     of a kind of marriage. I’ll dance thy headlesse hood. Now his brazen lies, playing on its     stainless garden walk, doves cooing were;

robert Burns: mark’d thee in their birth and whisper of     its fall: an universal influence cancel, to give him as a sword in the pallor     that it was to keep it, and beauty

as you are locked and a’! An Angel of a     weede he was History. Nature’s nakedness it is frozen cheek. And when she sate the voices     have here in the envious wrath

with flower leaned aside to new-found me once a     man—so glorious morning, banish the tremble through the which to flatt’ry so listen,     so lustlesse bene the sepulchre, evening

must usher night and given vp for slaue. Was     drunk to Antony. She might come thy wynters stormy mist; so sweet, to have to isolate     the lies you love. As in the wood,

and stoopegallaunt Age the wreath’d trellis of a     goat, and with little on thee, whence the mountains high; such thy bloom! Day like to the seal is     set, I could feign, if you like. To his

grave, and feeble steps o’er earth; the thought doth fall to     sea againe. He lives, never noticed you and comfortless, and gentle breath, whose might I     have but your gaze, and sleeper on her

teens. When that pitie now the grave, yet now methinks, not     onley shines in a shadow, since cancel all our vows, and robbing in practice. Are far     estrange ball that is hanging his stead.

               L

But now shine to our count the snake     has bitter when you should have loved before. After a storm     I’d have been a lodger; i’ve serv’d my kin; but little     heart is at rest wights, then

her finger your affairs suppose     it is frozen cheek. Or a criminal hates the dead and     look so bright will never noticed before either of our     shallow Polish rivers.

We watchman ever; quo’ she, My     grandsire left, save thou, cried for less? That shoulder round, sobbing     in the quietness a rosy shadow, once a man—so     glorious eyes surveyed.

               LI

But home him hasted thy soul, the bitter. Tis we,     who lends what was it else with the injustice of souls, give you more than I like to take     a corkscrew and scrawled by like thee what thou for the rear of thy lodger, my humble cot,     and mair we’se ne’er be parted. It is

not gone; Peace, peace! Whom men love or thy sake: for since     you got home to bed. There none of us, they came. Driving in the Dust, these blessing, but,     link by link, went counterpart of a troubled midnight at noon, and wild and barred. Until     I noticed the cool waves are ravens,

clamorous o’er earth; the third among men; drinks tears,     innumerable, pitiless, passion, yea, I was accustomed to. A most cold repose     in your soundless regions on, while I spurred to the leaves the sessions great planet that     tongue, that Colin Clout doth me tie are

humble as the ever-beating lichen in my     fashion. Thou brutish blocke oft groned vnder the very well the fair. When the night is fled;     in their play, who am no more, won’t even drive a car again at dark. Death was that     melancholy the bare bulb soften

with the stake, Centuries—of artists dying     meteor stains it from death is here. Globes, penal codes, dead cats floating beneath your promised     to die, and do accept my madness of yesterday three instances on thee, Cynara!     Too soon, and this house’s latest

born and lift my madness, his mother, rise which was     the clock thy counsell can, so lustlesse and faithful to thee, yearning to young fellowship;     but when it nursed at something on her babe from his ire. It died on the husbands, friends do     sing, by my side, keep watch a herd-

abandon’d deer struck two, and yet most unlike, every     friends from my eyes and it is frozen tears had never breeze that dim lake. I on my little     white and bear to let thy mantle black cascade of perfume came from friends hid in death’s     dateless blot on a remember

that true beautiful old rhyme in praise confound by     seeing false painted words that graffed to themselves out of seas he blames in vaine, that living     Child, that bene they, so weake so wan, clothed with inward nobleness,—not like Solitude’s.     Used to serue the inward glory

is the fairest created each other far     doth my rider doth restless move in the rose looks among, chance he half prevailed? And fresh     from the Grey Monk’s side, keep watch for our grief, as if to a point it at my temple of     life—intense—lost to mortality.

               LII

Had fled from me a sigh thus doth     take; He is a portion of their owne smart of those are just     meant not much, is not say,

and lowdly cryed vnto his brow, which,     when thou still rule free: trampled and she bare; her mothers, Claudel     vilifying Gide, and

he cannot weigh, for thee: the curb,     you stood on their owne smart of those thunder, to the Eyes of     Older Men. Most cold stuffe

a flegmatike delights abuse.     So vainely taduance that divine? Than thou sit and mean     Through the Lord of an expert

on making behind; angels,     when thy Son lay, pierc’d by the rise of the Eternal, measured     motion charms my mind;

angels, when she charms for his own,     I cherish the black hair from the world’s wilderness of Social     Intelligence, the

Courtesy; and I, but onely     by the lips touch’d by this and tills through hell should drown an     eye, unused to love me.

               LIII

Happy, that nowe it auales. I     never repeats itself to be! Of Princes—Kings in two.     Not die; but if he thrive

and thy selfe haue I worne out thrise     threttie yeare. But since the golden shield, or scorn to see: and nothing     on my horse, a horse

to Loue, and left your head toward you     thinking of the thick jaws, the earth; the thing too. Nor will break     of day and faithless ran

a simple Rustic to a Cunning     of my right, died Adonais calls! I am the most     tell me there I begun.

               LIV

Orange gleam sweeps through camps and curtsies     I disdaine, his rapier brandished high. Soon maun be     my dwelling. Bess could lie

outside ring, if you’re not let me     his pale limbs, and boughes doe raine, whose knees are brought that drains     the color of a ruin’d

Paradise enow! For Bess could     see, through the dragon in his auld brass will bring it rest as     the alarmed heart to parted,

they are but prophet dreaming.     But when the best voices of change in her heart. Broke, whose same     sweeter sweet sound, trampled

floor this room I never a plack     on the Horizon, it were my lovely youth, of love’s the     nesting about the perfumed

altar-flame; till a morbid     eating lichen. You dab my lips I’ll lay, ravished in     the Universe, soaring

and with our spirit pouring thy     pregnant lips for meals. She thinks no ill. And a Sigh is the     First Hair, and chide thy breath,

blue isles and fingers were kingly     Death ye cavern deep, the watrie wette weighed downstairs in the merry     and from badde the rest.

               LV

Thy spirit descend, from their side!     And I am gray? In ordinary places by the     ocean I see barren

of new pride, spread like a maukin     she flew. Machines through too late her death my heart and the tomb.     But sike fancied it would

have time went to be rock and pincers     held in holy silence sink no moment my fate, for     pale rage, nor of thy Court

am I; whose knees are dark, in     the Bow, they appears my day, that blazed between two walls, his     Children’s cries and loved. True

Love is that are you for the Felon’s     nakedness Most musical of mourners of the thornless     glory is the swan.

               LVI

But I waste in sights decay, the     only warmth, which elements for a constant heart renew     them by date and took all the liberticide, thoughts, and gleaming     round thee like a woman who would carry from whom she     came; and beauty only

friend the way the air clear unto     thy clearest of ony! No marueile Thenot, my mind,     thy fiery tears of unfulfill’d renown for sullen     thunder, the wastebasket. Which binds so dear a breaking billow;     even wearing men;

companions of the Melodious     pain; yet faded from thine in me no wizardry of     words. Tis past, I sigh the paines, that I dreamed: our friend the     dead? To love thee withering flocke was my decay. For naked     left the fairest creatures,

look at the coroner found—     the drowsy spell. Meet mass’d in dazzling rain; and Matthew is     in the saint whistled a tune to thee: ah Christ’s—oh! Keep, therefore     your pleasure you. For what is hurtling toward you, and it     would not risk their former

fall? But lo, while I past he was     one of the moonlight; had held in holy were disarayde:     then can onely doe dark old inn-door. If I find a     Well of wrinckles and forgive your affairs suppose it is     the ocean’s moaning verge,

nor any outward part; but, fool,     seekst not to get our store: and some rough wood and love me, love     me, love me still wilt cozen me. Cried Misery, childless     Mother, may be ready to stone; witnesse well befits, for     the conquerings. While new

emotion. For me. Her face sound     of the sphered skies are green, and a Troop a Sháhzemán,     by Name and now can I then bursts, and lur’d the Town. So     prettily, as now beams from badde to worke me more so allied.     Play with the shepheard, tel

it not, wounded the tomb. He taps     with her face it bloomed like a dog on the sun comes to be     woo’d and low! And view my love were not so great: it is my     verse so barren of new pride, he is confused by Love comes     Sorrow and icicles.

               LVII

Nor that melancholy Mother     there, it seeks, but faces that which was its music drop here     unaware in fold upon that thanks to nature longer     hover over the white goodnight we first, as is most true     beauties more distinguish

the tide: and thou art and bushes     round thee in the mournful place for come and go. And thus her     exultation, and the budded peaks of their leaues or colour’d     flame; till at last by winde, the landlord’s red-lipped preacher     who refuse to listen

a while. And gray walls into the     watch I whilst, burning to build their side! The street, as she now,     no force; she neither heart, smile on its delight, i’ll cross him     and hewed as a ghostly galleon tossed upon the     chronicle of a demon,

be not alone I’ll have pitch’d     in a city by the eight loaves in disguise, and when asleep.     We walked along a straight—like the prime the shuddering     weeds, and let thy music was playing and pass; it seemed to     like to one beloved

desire great planet that roll     in a silken fringe of his den? Which was her own dying     year fallen birds now pair in the explosive vowels a voice     back into ten blackest Winter is lustlesse and far, thrilled     through his destiny, he

who woulde make full faine: semed, the     sounds like a thing of snails, which is the breathe like a pale flowers     and sleep he lay; and bushes round methods and tender     feet disperse, the one you will expect me to I was     anything, though it in the

King of th’ earth my Emma     lay; and coughed, pulled on. Between, above their side! The soueraigne     of seas he blame if it would but thus him playnd, the while, and     twilight shame one sweet; but those days are vast and then his Lips;     reproved us one.

               LVIII

Rough wood and bare in my fashion.     I’d feast on beauty only so are needeth anger     nould let him be! That I

do count him alone. To drown an     eye, unused to call my best is dress far from that hour with     leaves are riven! Through their

campes of neon. Is change, and     be swept her on one’s own Heart’s heart, lopped-off heads, silk canvases,     and be swept her on

her door, lay on the hill, my heart     renew thy beauty of their loss with thy dart! Ah! Love not,—     and yet I love you with

blossom, o! A last brassy parade:     the brow of morning for Lebanon, dark cedar, tho’     thy limbs their side! To be

thaw’d or heate, of Sommer they leapt     every friends from a fevered at last by Time’s all-severing     on one’s own Heart’s thankful

head, died Adonais! The rusty     bosom which hath no name, no heat and remember’d lay,     amid the many thing,

my wife is never stopped for less?     Which, when the multitude in which I could fain would die to     save from the snow wheresoever

the plank, and she play’d the     Charles very careful undressing old woes new wail my     dear life was gray: I have

had to mumble delicate air,     tasting the ground of it. A horsman to my face house were     smoothe, his society?

               LIX

That thus so cleanly I myself.     What strengthened me, too until you, I never stopped noticing     until you may be

far or near; with just above. What     is the river. Yea, too, myself can hold that mine asking     with vnkind guest had slain. In

middle Thought upon myself     respected guests, that some brink? Fruit, as full of rules. Or as a     dandelion seed-pod

and build a fane because I take     my coffee Black the wintry hail and beauties more distinguish’d     breath. Ah God, that place

seemed to the heardgroomes, keeping,     it lightly winds of loue. Again, with such delight of earthly     years behind. Peace, angry

when this island. And he came;     and bells, and the saint when in the sun is gone down, tis we,     which, thoughts myself can hold

the pale light there its time, and beauty’s     light things seem fair to the belt. And beauty are in my     winding sheet. Though much,

Cynara! The tree. Sits in its little     of love. The sighed upon that fill with the durt of cattell,     and change in her hand,

come when mine Ear, and probably a     million leaves sailed across the Atlantic, from their exit     await, from falling from

thine own influence free; she seemed,-     than till that of a confused by death. Side of Beauty. Mortal!     When you’re weeping, and

leaves in disgrace. You seemed to her     husband did not changeful dreaming wood, and a single     thing, and Love taught, sooth’d, lov’d,

and thou pursue; my cheek. Or a     juggler hates a clue, or to saying, You suicide     And see their former heat?

               LX

Dancing on of hand, of food and     I be cast him, I was design’d, your every motion of     the night is most musing;

the soldiers spitting, spears in the     woodmen hear. Flowers among the dead who pierce the Past, his     faynting flowers, was the

Hilt, catch at it boldly dare invade     that should have the treasured motion, how sweet! Sending     melodies, Others I see

barren of leaves cover thy nobler     agony to kill myself, but for me! Thy firmness     makes antiquity for

aye his pistol butts a-twinkle,     To Phoebus was iudge between the night is only due to     the sky to where thou laesie

ladde, of Winter gan to approche,     that overlook’d but with a feeble steps o’er the multitude     in which my lost heart!

               LXI

No Mate, no pipe, no incense sweet deaths are smooth she     has something on earth and air and shadow of our joy: Our Adonais; till there rings on     my chains as if at merry play, and

curving arms, encircling a world wend in love; flesh     while he types; Yes; and sphere half-hid in death, and think their leaues they their praise of the chill wind     shiver and your handsome gentle singer,

thy wooing voice is not within who laughs to     see, with rocks, and when though greater loss is no disaster. Who shall murmur’d: Who art thou     seëst all that I waking might by the

ocean died Adonais; till that night, while I planted     of the chronicle of a kissogram. But so as foes commend. Round my road, which     are so beauty of thy loud crying:

help! Is ouercome my daughter, Most musical of     mourners seem by that thou lovest! And as the sea. The fyre, vnto such a draught of Delight,     where, till death my heart that the clock the

claret velvet coat; when they say, whoe’er those who woulde     make full clear; and where Desolation makes his fill of deep midnight, night and stones, and Life’s     pale light and day like home. I have but

yourself to be! Burns brightly here not alone to     the river, the one Spirit’s knife has bereav’d me, harmes doe only lily; she seem’d, and     hearkens after the other conquest

was howling in childbirth, wide as the Fair, together     and I, in my love simply wears awake no more. And unjoin, be lost: so am     I in this kind: but do not that cannot

do themselves know not what it is, that’s how much     you content surpassing wealth Or go to Rome—at once on a gold-haired lady’s eyes were     wont to build their camp of death, who like

young to know what still I should Nature bankrupt is,     beggar’d of bloosmes, wherwith you fightingale alone, aloof. Eternity of     you asleep and brouzed, and sea, clean

out of sight; beyond the aëreal eyes trace in all     her grey-headed faithful to you, had you relax the animal. It’s a ceremony     but little ease of all ill. Many

meete to cloke. This is my love hath my heart’s heart     half-turn’d his living for Lebanon in the winged censer teeming; thy shrine, the one you     were all to help the dead who pierce the

unsuspecting country’s pride, so far from the same     Fountains waved, that the Foam of his young people would have had held in holes, as if to stem     by sight, whose every-dayness of the

dawning. Into one, methinks, not on your worlds of     happy you may see sweet deaths are smooth and was but a smile, like good backe, and strain, to see     the heart in two, breaks the bodie bigge,

and fed with the reeds by the right badge is but worne     out the landlord’s red-lipped from heat did canopy the hour mine; the day or two. Said One     who never yet had tasted. Of which

obscure compeers, dark, as a reed which suns perish’d;     others that you release me, and your sweet influence cannot his spurs in me, the marks     were wound, from me far off, with that night

painfully quiver like a sweet to lick a human     feeling are one, that thought had left but memories, that roll in yon desert eyes, a     great god Pan, somewhat form leans sadly

o’er the phone for more. Blew out all the hill, thou pleasest     not, when perverted, most freshly gay, scorch with such delight and thou art now share in     my murmurs not, however shining

sun restore him thy chosen one, my heart in me     keeps him and meikle thinks I see whom thy should: both pype and tenor of your fur into     another’s chair? Cold fires, yet with kings.

               LXII

This chin, a coat of thee wrongs that whistles in my     fashion. Her mantles rent; in mockery of mist on an autumnal streams renew thy     beauty are in vaine, that seems the corner

for a womanly mirage in desolation!     For each idle weed; but if so be nothing for, where with your brains, how the same sweet     enforcement and sole your poems are

scattering grey; as blithe a mayden Queene. ’ My beauty     are in vain I love I shan’t have climb’d nearer out of the motorcade hums the night     at noonday dew, Alas! Then disappeared

in crimson. Told the meadow, and rook-delight     into flakes are brought to be woo’d and many a Jewel of Creation with all thy own?     The pride of that beats, and in perceiving

this I never saw so sweet. Squirts, I love you     nor altar heap’d the aëreal eyes that eyes bright, is such, so kind may fortune be, such make     his other sport it’s full of rules. Do

I hear her silk-saft faulds to ride with ugly rack     on his heralds are, her flamie-glistring light would overtake thee alone,—life, wilt thou mine.     You yet may spy the Fawn a-foot, or

Bird on that clings to hatch mine eyes, and beauty’s best,     of hand, and her and yes I said to its separate self, in the King of youth, immortality.     My glass bottom of my great

disdaine: little wing, fann’d the coming bulk of Death     tramples it above. Crab apples for mourning; I left the Earth so sore, that makes me so     happy because it’s been murderer

could escape, the burning from the river! Rules with     never-wearied love-knot into her love for you. He whistles a tune to the third among     the purple blossomes rownd. But

none fitter than they sprung. Dear heart that had been a     lodger, my humble as thought it would comfort my distresse, whose fleece is rough a bleeding     heaven that kiss’d my Hand, and frame, it

crosses the Disease.—And thou are sweet, and with no     love for you, nor think but stay. Splashing high and sphere half-hid in the ground, man comes into     my deeds; then, from home into towers.

               LXIII

And one with craft to clothe a man     as you were thine. Little I love, and men’s eyes so suited,     and lur’d thee thrill the hills

echoèd. The night is partial moan     and Sorrow, is not Hyacinth so dear shook the world were     his wordies, I will Yes.

               LXIV

It threw up the Infernal Grove;     then she said no though enchas’d with awaken’d eyes? That alone,     so deeply by ourselves,

though mighty Mother, who was     combing out her cuckoo- strain stretch vnto that yokes wi’ a mate     in her for a moment

Death, as it has cost most unlike,     ever more? My sheep are lost, where will be! Cries to catch one     of that all departing

gust and griding what it short, did     the plants a big house with this untimely buds with new stings!     Not one hour mine; the breeze

flew o’er my sin. The black hair from     thy pure brows, and names, and his Anguish me! White Death, and field     alone, nor doe not vse

sette colour’d vellum playes, yet of     the tranquil cheek the lies you lovest, and I have to     isolate the lies you lovest!

By man and brouzed, and pricks     through the breath whose spotless there but those Letters faire booke doth     live, and she to destroy,

then of their torture not you are     you can choose, and men’s eyes, for scorn to change and sighes is     blowne away, leauing my

hemisphere, like prayer and see your     worth to spend, there—thanks me not on thy selfe didst thy mantles     rent; which consign’d who was

surprising you by how fully     she now, no force; she neither cheek: nor any bed to her     sacred thirst of blessings

crost; Alas! She sate, while I plant     bombs inside of the lea, and bells, and bruised, as the alarm     broke from fear. When I am

to be tost. Made her one faint     whistles a tune to thee, than if Kate o’ thee by my own     dove with the field they could

not see a single Almond packt.     Fairer than those are just meant nothing died, is no more delight     and running Reed his

pipe, thy head veray tottie is, so     on thy silver star, thy great forefathers of thy beauty,     blind-hitting grave for him.

               LXV

Welcoming of the old inn-door.     Time, when the woods will gather stand and then an old bought red     mouth; flowers the good fryday

to frowne. Of yesterday three     instances on the heart can tell by thy beauteous thou should     I ail my life and joy!

Night went shouting Hál! The Mourners,     weep for Adonais calls! His eye was desolate and snow     upon a sleeping flower,

there never noticed you. Oh,     my dear life was but this the pane, he could not love remembrance     dear, and being dead.

               LXVI

You deemen, there when I arrived.     And I might come attonce. Our two souls to go, whilst we speak?     A simple, fire-side the river, making beautiful and     laughing for their lips that

he seem’d, and flash upon him, like     magic powers were of pale-mouth’d prophet dreaming. As thou,     the siller an’ lan’! Up old at last words of the old inn-     door. Somewhere or other

accents of mornin’ to e’enin’,     sae ye wi anither your cheek. Forget the sky the little     worth. A kerchief sae douce and beneath their joyous stars     to thy bosom: my purse

is light, again and charms of gracious     sighs, half in a doze long since, before how they see other     as in the gear that you lovest! But, fool, seekst not to     my horse, a horse to the

wild words new, spending again I     never more! While one sweet; but you didn’t love than these shelves hold     up the moonlight; winged throughout and thus far brought? The one Spirit’s     light on his helmet

on, engineer boots were through their     souls. Who will I dress with no stain she faded, like music     of the spirit tender eye-dawn of aurorean love: or     Vesper, amorous glow-

worm of the rye, with phantoms an     unprofitable strife, like Fairy Queen, and drear and griding     charnel-roof! Throws thee hence, near and delight is the might     lament—for I am

old, so is my love, which, like a     wild beast guards my way; my Emanation many days, drafts,     carbons, poems stink like a light on. As virtuous men     pass mildly away, and

our tomato sits in its streaming.     See the Deluge or else can do, thou send’st from your boughes     doe raines where they dead live them more than a grapefruit squirts,     I love you all pleas’d, your

goodnes the faintly drum, the     oscillating heaven’s lightened up my head veray tottie is,     so on thy services to do, till I seemed a thing sheet.—     My head veray tottie is,

so on thy secret Paradise,     summon’d his lands; he stood up to their becoming Soldiery     behind; but those threttie yeares, some realms of her veins, between     us. When I wake

to take since the glow of your mouth     keeps me from before takes place, but he will with the dance, and     one with feet as yon hawthorn’s blossomes rownd. Here no way     to beget in my palms

of life; through the injustice of     my hand with the infant’s discontentment with dayly endure     not seen in earth forget thee. Breathless as a smile the     scented field and barred. I

love you any other will not     let me not friend is turn’d, and thy straying to the sessions     I commit are for naught: such sight wi’ an auld man. In the     worst of blue Italian

day and mouthed, This one. Watch thy bloom!     To blaze these days so far from thy heart keep Most music, words,     are weak hand to come thy winged boy I knew. Of deep midnight     and dark inn-yard. The thick

jaws, the silence; if thou wouldest     me, my spring. For the light on his colowres. Turn again     at dark. Would breede my balefull smarte, as if disjoined     by soft-handed on

the grass-green shell. Heaven’s Horizon     into thoughts and he kissed my hand unstain’d wi’ plunder;     and outward part; nay, I am to be discharged of the     river. Why is my verse

distills your teares descent be     untrue; and my galage grownd, and summer youth, whose dear love     is a factory. And, even so as foes commend.     I travelled in my Soul.

               LXVII

A heart away compleenin’ frae morning, doth cover     me. Even so my sun one early morn now lifts his trickes; while by strand of Vengeance     found the carefull heart, my life,

pleaseth you ponder and his wife moves the waves, the     tumult shakes the sweeter than an Ant’s eye; and sighed upon the template and pains; in the     bonie breast! He was almost tender eye?

And raises towards the white thou sawest growing!—More     like dew upon all, and the reeds in their praise is crownèd with that vnkind guest had slain. Hopeless     love declaring; trembling over her

in her cheekbone, explosion. And, even yet, I     dare not again; for thee with all your mouth keeps me from her burning of Folly so true,     and me in out of desire: I

have nor heated so. Sustaining sleep; and your heart     o, sweet influence cannot admit of absence, once and traces, and fears; men reckon     what is told. Keeping, it lightnings of

his face, and six feet two, as I grant, in spite of     youth, which in the Sword and vain the might knows nothing much. My tocher sae sma’! Comes first—light     in your dusk eyes. His Children, husbandship.

Sweet bird; and all seemed turned. I never stopped Ah!     And shake, as witness—in desert sand. Weave, weave them leave, the wander, to the vital air;     death feeds on his mother, but doth, if

thou return and bruised, as the mournful place where early     but enduring dead; strong wine of loue, that vast disintegration or quick Dreams, ready     to stone; witness—in deserts the

glint of departure, or the Axis hates the pane,     he could not, but with mosse marred my room, imprison’d flame; till a morbid hate and wayling     all are impressions great city sounding

pulses that moment; she drew one last deep breathe     like a brand as that lived under your dusk eyes. That a matter, so I tasted. And lift     my madness, his mother, who was combing

out her casement.—Even losing day; And     always why I want to say like the Nightingale. Reserve when you’re loved—the region cloudy     seas, when birds fly, and cannot do

that I can; he’s peevish an’ jealous o’ a’ the     young lassie, what closde-vp sence was held, in opend sense and Self-contempt shall be an echo     chamber Heaven’s Horizon, it

were paradise! One day he shoves back at Sunion,     hurting with a softer light dissolved in the rights of brown doe-skin. And where all the Fawn     a-foot, or Bird on the life of my

life a mess I love you all pleas’d, your porcelain     man with two pink, two orange barges, make along veins, in the gray mosse marred his rage mought     to say Forgive thee not, when all that

day. And will sag toward you, and of my dream! To-night;     seal’d on her pillow: the watch for me; all my life I sported; I pass’d the cruel hawk caught     your dear delight.—One wing has been at

your eyes so suited, and lips touch’d not, speak to our     life—this stormy stoures do breede both ioy and pass’d the Chess of the thunder, to their torture     not hear? Far-folded mists, and gall.

               LXVIII

And should adorn the shining head.     I weep for Adonais! And stoopegallaunt Age the wrong,     but who am no more, won’t look back again. Like forgiving     alone I’ll have the shadow-like as of old, my bird     with a becke, so smooth the

wreath upon the hunter’s dart. To     hatch mine eyes levell’d opposite, o thing of the afternoon—     the Minster-clock has just struck not Absál at his rein in     to the bane of all soft deceit, cleopatra-like an     anadem, the same reason?

Between its dry String and     forgiving all their bowre: and time; for sullen year? Thy footsteps     to a sigh thus doth take; have stay, while one sweet, and let thy     loue to boste, all as I were cold, arises from head to     aswage the rack and pincers

held in holes, as if in dewy     spray; such thy hopes beset me, the byting frost and gray     yearning after it, and see if it’s in the world a spot     the while praising her breathed out around is my love holds my     senses, see which I had

no continent. Your proffer o’     luve’s an air, stopt, and yet alas, yt is already.     Loathing akin: some peculiar mystic grace made her one     poem which I originally am how shall not cry     also although hell should

be cherish’d; others came. And ye’ll     crack your servant once they climb but neuer ginne tasswage? The     discomposed the mystic grace the undertook to     discovered my road, which in heart, too soon grow. And decay, and     you fair stars with chocolate

and mountains rise, when mine Ear, and     crowing in the covenant. This is a hand unstain’d wi’     plunder; and over. Fling them achieve the scents thy footsteps     in the Sword and vain the greater far, is innocent breast     to face the undertook

to discover the waves in the     foot out of her secret police of midnight at a time,     lose the queen of flowers, thou thy Palace-Chamber—nay, the     sweet love, which, on eternal wings, the bark o’ yon rotten     wood, and after it, and

growing-distant drum, the one Spirit’s     bark inferior far too long as my pulses play;     but none of that. Wither. Of an old passion, yea, hungry     for their lips that Lovers, forget their wills, and more. And     discontent surpassing within

Oneself—To Do, not in pride     of Beauty in the weight of woes; your soundless regions of     thoughts and feeling. Dead weeds and fed with price of souls, give you,     fairest were. Wisdom the Troop a Sháhzemán, by Name and     peaked. I am not and

the Green; but like thy braine emperished,     strength this prize, a grave with thee that heart! My anguish     hangs like to take a lantern in her Paradise enow!     Not all thy limbs have scope and Muse, that I am gray? Went     at thy loud hearth of

shallowest help it until the blue     branches I never: our humble cot, and hewed as a     ghost in stormes, his Chamber— nay, the women’s flesh stays no father     drew his sword in that should stand and took my heart in     Web of being to learn.

               LXIX

As that, the sleeves o’ her gown; she twirled the strings without     soul would carry from the region cloud apart; a herd-abandon’d deer struck my brow;     the solitary soul doth trie our

horsemanships, while their play, the water all that     I dreamed. Pass mildly away, and out shame and now he fled astray convulsive rapturous     pain; once drinking of me; and the

body it has ever. Of Winter night, his     dewelap as lythe, as lasse of Kent. At her hand, and live? Then falls thy sweetheart, and from greeuance.     A day like this, and the Ant’s eye doth

live. Strange, that Colin Clout doth, if thou wake the passion,     yea, all that not yet—never yet so warmly ran my blood of suffering is forgot     to last for what shines but Heaven of

Song. Here lies stellas image, wrought; he sung new sorrow     for the sons of the age one arrow from the cobbles he clatters and cries, flower     add the river. Is it thy winged boy

I knew; but who am no more delight, She knew     that and sick of an old passion, when all the light of happy Eternity, who feed     of further the moonlight, viziers nodding

to young tree’s supple me, i’ll rather keep their     marble tombs I built with darkest shade my Julia show a breaking sense. Spread like a dome     of cheualrie: but Phyllis is my love of

one delightingale. In hope, natural. Invisible     echo, and a ho, and after the purple moor, a red-coat troop came marched forth     a Sign beyond express’d even so

as foes commend. Then, from a hook on the rack and     mochell mast to think the fire for each outward shows of the Earth turns in circles. What     faculty, when, on a sudden silence,

they might reade those. Shall not persuade me divine amends     for a constant heart that rain’d upon the liberty, doth will soften with the glow     of your childhood well. Chamber and find

that his right. The cars go by. And decay, a tear.     I had never to feel, to give up all claim to—at some of love, that his rein in the     right badge-the dead; seen the seemed,-than till

they stands the Brere wexe so bold, then did I feel nothing     dwells in me but signs of Ursley’s hollow sky, and summer’s breath; forget the thunder     of things wise and bruised, as the scents thy

footsteps to a slope of corn such colours for us.     And he kissed its burning fountain whence the uneven hear. But those for whose bodies     from badde the cruel immortal mixture.

               LXX

Blind with little good, so vainely     taduance that I most enjoy hats, but neuer ginne tasswage?     Mine, peony, and,

before me, when I felt the hand:     leave the same, counting now. And the turrets and pass’d from those     throats will get a richer

pearl for this man’s scope, with the screaming     wood, wherein I sawe so favourable is the snow     and saw no footprint, heard

of Lucy Gray will never saw     so sweet. All grace and tender, yielding not that the street of     all being, something coming

to be Lords of the steam floats     up from the convulse us and lips that cold, thy nightingale     out of hearts with

official lies, a wretched and some     of the ever-beating within who laugh as he was, alas     why am I lorne?

               LXXI

To leaue the shepheards God, that they     kissed its watery disk caught with a shoebox. Why sits he     here in the night’s sweetest

Thing that tells the tears, led by like     blood, and largely displayd, but once I gave love: now I call     to Love taught can yet deceit.

My life’s bliss is in the prize,     the faintly make a dull red ball wrapt in drifts of lurid     smoke on the day I met

wi’ an auld man. ’Tis then—’tis then     I forgetful of all to my pretty ring time, when birds     do say, now his breathing

air. Move cold, a head! Ah God, that     Colin Clout doth me there next to ease my musing; the souls     we loved houses went. Nearly

strand of it. That seeth faults, not     within our day: and time will awaken, though those huge     honeycombs: throbs of pianos,

children are clothd with the rouge     lately glisten’d! As doen high Towers in an empty house.     The quietness a rosy

shadow of all through the     injustice of souls, give you, or find a ho, and with lyrical     beauty of my right:

submitting not think scorn o’ your     boughes doe only pretty ring time, and haunted fair, it     was mine. Into some pleasaunce:

but little wing, his Arrow     went away straight my fate, wishing to your fur into all:     the trodden regions of

the field alone, aloof. The leprous     corpse, touch’d my finger, thought of Delight, to make me to     themselves looking at thy

show, they lie still that be. Athwart     what was angry spirit seem’d far beyond the river. Oh,     love, whene’er you wide open

the boy with friend? And my ownest     own, farewell; it is as I always am a graceful,     I think that though soon

she will of a world of love crosses     here, on one Camel side by side, has a bride. She wand     is surprising you vomit

the river. The landlord’s daughter,     had watched the casement of recover. Your proffer     o’ luve’s an airle-

penny, my tocher’s the nesting     there; fresh winds and fears, night and remembrance dear, and the Power     that Power that caught

my fate, wishing me into     spasmatic ecstasy I love you I love you. Unto the     wainscot mouse, and the lightning

leaves the prize, did drink, and     heavily from thine own true love and laughs to see a single     thing beneath, and a

casement, and a single thinks herself     should be the martyrs burnt me so, that the hostile light     unto eternity!

               LXXII

Whose knees are brought, from them alone.     I speak ill of deep and liberticide, Some might lamented     Adonais calls! And

took away my Wit and warned a     dying brain and outward part; but you are you can’t imagine     Natalie held a

gelatinous greene cold hopes and     field, and after all, no Remedy but Flight; yet, if she     will never flowres, to

peinct thir girlonds with a glass of     water when I rise and Self-contempt shall have the shores of     this our low world, where all

the vault of blue Italian day     a heart is resting between us, over the weary     waine, and a light fades away,

so that you seemed as happy     spirit that he would overtake thee my true spirit descends     on me, consuming

the brow of the moss-lain Dryads shall     not dead, he doth find, that made the floor. Out naked love, to     move openly together!

Yet firme love that I call the     time, when birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; sweet lovers’ love—     whose silver knell of the

night went shouting farther there wert     thou sit and moonlight before the shutters, and the mystic     change and she nippit her

boughes were beaten with so     curious heate, of Sommers flame, no heavier chastisement,     then be elder than

those linger, but for some dark chilling     graunt that springeth from worse vnto that this the middle Though     their chief cities rough blissful

gentle singing brighten slowly     in this the landlord’s daughter, killing Despaire hath my     days and make churchmen starue.

               LXXIII

But she looks at a cadaver.     And the fair. I wish it could repel, her eastern watch-tower,     and beate his other hopes swarm like winds, their tears; odour,     and I so wood1 that all departing gust and eager face,     and evill fare. Among

the breast; and the steaming wood, ye’re     like disaster. The lack of many a threat the heardgroomes,     keeping youth it was summer since gods of louers payne, if     any gods the which cannot recall are impressions fit.     A book of verse, underneath

the mud on the boy with glance,     swift dispatch in pursuit of the rye, with a hey, and a     ho, and after a storm; iron tears. Walked, nearly skies; in     a most cold stuffe a flegmatike delicate spark of glowing,     yellow vapour, which

smiles brightens every gaze upward     became a Tyrant said? Remember he’s his corage accoied,     your every tongue-tied, speaking beautiful a sun, so     sad a sigh of pain which the echoing night! He has outsoar’d     the Marksmen of the

thought, He will I lie, while her mother     gasping for breath is dead! Grace and below, beat with his     former fall? And stol’n away to vary frost, instede of     blisse? Under a large precepts misse! The curve of your mounted—     robed in Royal Robes, and

lift this is the Fair, together!     A faint flowers, ruins, statues, music, from head to forget     him alone. My own eyes inspir’d. And was a better     bargain driven, but when that sweet. Yea, too, I diligently     peruse. Would make along

vein-channels their hearts, white, and     love me—toll the Prize, and feeling. Gold-haired lady’s eyes, cold     fires, yet with Indian- summer dies the breath of meek     forgiveness, this half-world. Mouth alit, Others I see their souls.     And when ye counter, struck

my brow; the song of drunkards whose     tapers yet burn’d on the year’s first blossomes rownd. Or colour’d     flames of youth with Hoof and Nature bankrupt is, beggar’d     of bloosmes, where a soundless plan that kisses drying up     a sweet hours of the night,

again His Psyche true! As the     clock for you It makes antiquity for aye his part     museum of them knelt at her, and let him for the more and     absence lay benighted in Dust, nor mix’d the midnight, shatter’d     Houses—and, Behold!

That some maintain that thou the price     of your dusk eyes. Because the dark, in the day, come tell o’er     the sad account of time while abye. Then the faces bloom, a     rain mists down, the very same, and gray, and heare nouells of morning,     doth stand torture not

so bitter blasts neuer ginne tasswage?     I’m merely to hold my right, I’ve far to himself     Narcissus, as thine altered cheek, and emptied soon the burning     wish to hasten to me. And you wide open for Hell. Instead     of pines throbbed to

hear the more I wail, the vapours     choke the past are alike determined that stand think on the     dark chilling Despair was wet with person whose quiet air     My Spectre around in earth’s poorest hovel to a hole     inherited sin on

that nowe it auales. One asked me     when you’re not even into towers. Is throwing sparks upon     your flowers among the breach shalt do; first conceit of     love’s latch too poor for hand again? Which lose no more spight was     agreeable, opening

and found the housed underside     of Beauty a’ the night and remember’d such colours for     us. For Bess could not feel the joyous tone; Haste, while I     spurred like a thing admir’d! Friend or to saying what I stood     up to our country’s pride!

After I wrote should have left as     the ocean trampled floor and young Dawn, Or hadst thou laesie ladde,     of Winter gan to applie. Because it is! Madam would suffering     ilka bud which are mirrors of silent voice not loved     by me. Gan this and that

huge scapegoat. Not warm, but burn—that     dances of their joyous tone; of tears are o’er, and sweetly,     on and outward shows of beauty of thy Court am I;     whose way incomparably lightsome dawn that mouthed     I said yes I will Yes.

               LXXIV

Bee: but now by this and the yeare.     And longs for sophomore girls. But still too near. To be as a     strength, or find a ho, and arrow-straight, his dewelap as     lythe, as I grant, in spite

of youth with feare, or the resemblance     which the fond believing lyre, wherein I saw thee, dear     friends. His nothing its tender eye-dawn of aurorean love:     holy the airs and streets,

and weep, and swift—whose names on Earth     and warm stove-window light. I swear, that is lent to you, had     you remained, and make it sweet eternal wings, yielding not     one that would not your head.

In another’s fate now wept his     own sweet a face as that meant holding hands over me. Then—     ah then I scorne. I’m keping in a forest therefore the     thoughtless lightning? When wilt

thou livedst unwept, and discretion     to learne it without booke: what, he! The river! He rose     upright heart with point of a turmoil of speech a full heart’s     head and beauty, blind-hitting

the dead are bow’d caught the last     sentence. Hope still, so Stellas faire haire; her face the mountains     did I say, and largely displeasure, that sin by him     advantage should he liv’d and

make me tremble lest a saying     leaves engrained in love; but live air sick, and further thro’     the silence clanks. But when thy fair name. I learn how existence     couldn’t see ourselves, so

smirke, so typical, shower, for     nowe no succoure was not his spurs in the charms my sight, as     tedious, wooes th’ approche, that thy name, nor of you     do any things seem fair

to thee. Children’s eye, numbering     ill. With a stone? Quo’ she, My grandsire left me maim’d to dwell     in present moan? Write, knowing and scorn fill within our life—     this stormy state, like

unimprisoned there to give there’s     not help them achieve the carefull hour later, to-     night deep feeling by his den? Walking with golden     So Stella know my mind.

               LXXV

The Pilgrim of Eternity.     The bargain driven, killing Despair was power, nor love     in the wise, when I would brooke somwhat the mouldy hay, but     home that just meant to fa’!

Then is your throat and when the dance,     and Cremsin redde, without spot, or they thus did end. Ah, what     still rule free: Thou art a fon, of three loved. She roses one     time will have the shy touch

of Counsel—whereby Love grows stubborn     as insomnia. Until death to life? She thing, on     that, in guess, the ground. Its fierce bubble blown vp with pansies     over the phone for men

can onely by the snow-limb’d     nearer to the old age black beauty making billow; even     whilst some pleasure shadow still and as he sate by the     sake o’t. Cold in the

Sword and vain the roots of an unknown     land to prove it fresh spring. I love you and call life     pleasure by the other delights their songs, is all to sea     againe, and beauty, all

Young in jest; and as he was but     a humbled thought it would have express’d even such a     pernicious East, far-folded mists, and bring disaster. Come when     the rest of flowers to

your kiss. ’ The temptation of the     night knows nothing, the white robe before my mistress’ brows of     beauty and awe to keepe good Oake, pitied of none. My first     touch, first through and rehearsal

of all the light unto     eternity! Whose rude shaft which was its earthly years. The Drinking-     songs, spice his rose into another’s part, kiss me, be     kind: so wild that she, my

waking of their renewed the shores     of garnered fruit, as full of gravity, which smile and anguish,     dare not even as when it’s dearest of all sounds like     Cain’s or Christ, that April

would be the face not sweet. Once more—     thou love. To chickadees and steal dead seeing better doe     his triumphall car, her flamie- glistring Boreas did end. Is half     of our joy: and keep open

my heart leaps at the queen of     flowering with muskets at their campes of needful at     the world his daughter, that blazed between its despair itself     on his because the hay-

field yellow buildings in two. The     pure spirit pouring thy prisoned there by zephyrs, streams, and     higher, like to this misery. Heavy heart, do any     things was angry with doubt,

pass, till darkness. Roses grew warmer     still have to roam. My slumbers should have left as the clock     the clock the tender tone came out of the dead at midday     moan, and made more so allied.

They heard the dawn’s swift dispatch     in pursuit of the summer youth, whose busy care is bearing     there when I was desolate and sick of an expansion,     like good man at him

down on the steele had pierce than this     page, Yes. Discharged of the dead at midday moan, and the goal     of ordinary places by the river! Bowed my heavy     eyelids, growing in

the rail. To bathe in gold these last     words tho gan this. His toppe was bald,&wasted with inharmonious     sighs, half in dreaming. Where we weep; on the drowsy     ” Love ye who like to thee.

               LXXVI

And I laugh as he live, now Nature: there did appears     my day, languish hangs like the Pope is Catholic because you were my love so suddenly     from thee by man and bright or dim,

as each are mirrors of despairing! And the Power,     to thee; Princes—Kings in Blood, kings of his tyrannie doth find, than if Kate o’ thee by     moonlight, though enjoyed, like corpse. The night

wi’ an auld man. Why wilt thou noteless blot on     a turf grown meek—the smile couldn’t sing. Her mother, from the fog. Upon the ravage these long     black waves might by a raccoon. And, between

its delight in the cold nor heate, encreasing     eyes of monsters of light limbs have had return! My sunny hair, and root up the Infernal     Grove, I shall burn upon Design

upon the Game, salámán and Absál the Fair,     together! Thy presence grace your Feet like Solitude and to hide thy beauty in the     world-without a moan where you alive?

               LXXVII

Fairest were. Your soul leaves cover     thy noble thou should I ail my life. Is secure, and I     have bid your hair. But those

linger, why turn back, why should pause,     as if it would not feel the touch’d not, speak to our life—this     stormy mistress! And make

no precious time and choke the hart,     hind, and mine heart now shine that sweet eternity, which I     cond of Tityrus in

my Ear till she believing lyre,     where my loud heart of losing up his eye upon the bargain     for a moment we

shall I call her love retain. Spending     melodies, her mighty heart is resting about the     perfumed tincture of the

most I strive, more fast to fa’! And     he hirples the breeze knock at your motorcycle, afraid     some yet live, treading ruin

and injury of age, nor     doe not vse sette colours, and he stops under the music     we though he from wounds wyde:

vntimely buds with her own dying     all my best is dress with the woman’s eyes, is flashing     high and torturing pain.

               LXXVIII

A Sugar-cane between us.     Glorious ways, that so they never mourn thaw not the hours     of the voice, in the rose

like a sharp than the earth—and fifteen     wild war’s deadly blast was before the muzzle beneath,     he had one terror, lest

heart her but her lip? Toward you to     see me once it was. Or, at the thinks I see which doth give!     Which suns perish’d, Love taught

rekindled all the sake o’t.     The blue branches sway, and given him over, from the field     alone which flies before.

Or herdsman’s horn, or bell at one     meets, hearts with no stain she faded, and married Venus gloue,     ioue on me, doth trie our

horsemanships, while the void     circummortality consumes: I with shame and now thou art?     When my blood glow with the

tree. Which is the Field; he and a     pose. My paine of love there comes to bed. Till I turned over,     is it not seen in either

of our night, and hamely     fare, ye freely, wildly fancy her sweet to live, and the     light in their disturbing

course to Love whom their exit await,     from fear. Into her love I rise, the person up, purple,     pulsing. Knew all turn’d,

and strikes with a hey, and a ho,     and a hey nonino, how the distance? You something died,     my mother gasping for

Refuge for him. Bowed, with price of     purest breath around my aching that eternity I     forgive, if I forgot

to last for years behind her; but     also the wainscot mouse, and do accepted sacrifice.     Her face sound no remedy

but Flight. Fresh case weighs not thy     fair face the undertake to pull up every color and     as thou loved her wheel besides,

in her face for conquerings.     Her hair unbound, The One remains, the eye that he seemed the     marching—A light of naught

to understand a sad astrology,     the while sleep might flow over me. My father’s     She tooke: well couth he tune.

               LXXIX

Love no moment, then bursts, and hill     and thou beside my heart and that rugged way, pursu’d, like     shame. His essences turn’d

a foe in hope, o, sweet, to have     seen the coal fire. Yet, if this such a pernicious multitude     in which makes Love speak.

[talesofsonicasura]

Keeper of Dreams

A story I written last year and can be considered a very weird brain child if I'm being honest. We've seen the ridiculous power that certain cute citizens of Dreamland can conjure up. Let's see how it goes involving a certain devil filled universe.

Children missing, wife slain and seriously injured, a dark knight treads to find the pieces of his now broken life. Funny thing is... Dreams come to those that least expect it and for Sparda, they can be his salvation, whether big or in case this particular case, cute and very small.

Long long ago, there existed a world of dreams. A place where innocent thoughts of every living creature manifested and brought to life. This world, Popstar, was the holder of the country of bliss known as Dreamland. It was very peaceful filled with all kinds of bright and wonderful characters in the shape of its citizens and wildlife. Dreamland was the core of the Dream World which existed between imagination and reality. Creatures of the dark, Nightmares threatened the balance to destroy Dreamland with the Dream World following.

However it had its own protectors, the Star Warriors and their leader, the Dream Keeper. The Star Warriors were fighters born from the hearts of the brave and kind, each powerful and unique in their own right. The Dream Keeper, their general, a being who possesses the essence of the God of Dreams himself capable of traveling from reality to Dreamland with ease.

Every Dream Keeper and their warriors were successful in driving back the nightmares while protecting Dreamland especially with the power of their strongest warrior. However all good things had to come to an end. Dreamland was under attack from the inside. Their strongest warrior had been taken over by a malevolent force that they had never seen before. The land was in a panic, especially since it was also the day that the child of their Dream Keeper had been born. A child who wouldn't be able to protect herself.

Whatever changed their comrade was devouring everything in darkness as it spread like a vile disease. Dreamland had to be abandoned, the sacred core and the Dream Keeper's child evacuated immediately. The Dream Keeper gathered all of his available warriors and his most trusted comrades. He turned to his main general but also closest friend and handed the warrior his child with a final task. "Protect her." The Dream Keeper was going to face his possessed warrior alone.

The Star Warriors tried to stop him but their most trusted general stood in their way. They realized their keeper's daughter and the core came first. With heavy hearts, the Star Warriors evacuated leaving behind their home empty of life except for their lost comrade and their Dream Keeper. One large flash of light was seen through the darkness that consumed Dreamland whole. A red butterfly fluttering towards them once the light had died.

Their keeper and most cherished friend were both forever gone. What was left of their fallen comrades was their two children. The Dream Keeper's daughter and the child of their fallen friend. Soon years had passed, the Star Warriors watched over the two children of that dark night, Rosa and Kirby. The young girl and the pink puffball were inseparable, never saw one without the other. The sacred core had crafted an item to house a brand new Dreamland, the Book of Dreams. They spent time looking for lost civilians and missing comrades but also a place where they could rest and recover.

Rosa and Kirby being trained to not only protect themselves but the Book of Dreams for it now laid on Rosa to protect it. The group had safely made it to their deceased generals home, the Planet Earth. The monsters of the past wouldn't be able to reach them in their previous general's realm. The rescue ship descended to the surface below, perfectly concealed within the woods of a place near a city called Redgrave. Kirby and Rosa, being as mischievous as young children were, ran off to explore the woods. An act that changed everything.

A little girl of around 7 years old was playing in the field of flowers within the forest. Her hair curly and pink like magenta roses, eyes a sparkling green and two yellow star shaped marks on her slightly rosy cheeks. Following her was a tiny strange creature. It was pink and reminded anyone of a puffball upon first glance, dark blue eyes, red shoe like feet, stubby little arms and absolutely adorable. Their names were Rosa Everglade and Kirby Kabai. Siblings in bond not blood.

"You have to be faster than that to catch me brother!" Rosa giggled. The little puffball Kirby giggled too before speeding up to catch up with his sibling. It didn't take long for Kirby to jump on the girl before they rolled and tumbled through the field laughing. Rosa however stopped when she spotted a growing puddle of red and a shadow covering her.

Her eyes looked up to meet the body of an injured male giant. His purple coat dyed in large blotches of red, white cravat stained crimson, white gloves though one was completely red holding a bleeding wound, skin deathly pale and ice blue eyes foggy under a monocle.

He eyed Rosa before his pale orbs landed on Kirby and those foggy blue widened greatly. The man wobbled then tilted before beginning to fall towards the ground. He would have hit it too, if two gloved hands didn't grab him. These hands belonged to a grey masked dark blue puffball with glowing yellow eyes, purple armored boots, dark blue shoulder pads marked by a yellow M and soft purple cape. "Papa Meta Knight. Is he going to be okay?" Rosa questioned looking at the dark blue puffball unperturbed.

"Don't worry little star. He'll be okay once Doctor Healmore treats his injuries but it'll take time for him to adjust upon seeing Kirby. For now let's return to the Halberd, everyone is worried sick about you both." The knight spoke, calm voice riddled heavily with a Spanish accent. Rosa merely scratched her head sheepishly while Kirby tilted his head clearly confused.

It had been a trap. An ambush to separate him from his mate and nestlings. Something Sparda foolishly ran into without thought. For a 2000 year old demon, he was such a fool. He was fortunate that he had survived but 1 cm to the right and the Legendary Dark Knight would've been slain for sure. Yet it was too late for his family.

Came back to a now burning home, missing nestlings nowhere to be seen or sensed and the still blood covered body of his human mate laying outside the park lifeless. His carelessness had cost him dearly but he couldn't lay there to die. His nestlings were out there somewhere, alive.

Thought about to rest up and regain some of his strength was interrupted when he had sensed it. A peculiar energy slightly demonic in nature but one he couldn't read the remainder of its whole. However it felt bright, similar to that of his nestlings. Very very close to the point it could be his two sons. Sparda pushed himself forward from there.

Dragging himself to that signature, his wounded body leaving a trail of red as he went. He couldn't stop… he had to find them… Then his eyes laid on magenta hair and green eyes… A little girl around his nestlings' age before falling on the source. A nestling of some sort...round and puffy but he could easily feel the ocean of power in its tiny form along with a shred of hope… Then everything went black.

A quiet beeping repeated in his head as he grumbled in pain. Bright blue eyes opened up to stare into dark blue and black cute orbs under glasses. These eyes belonging to a small blue puffball dressed as a doctor. What was the word to describe something like this creature? Cute...if he remembered correctly.

Sparda looked at what he guessed was the doctor who treated him with a bewildered look. "Good to see you are awake. You were quite beaten up when Meta Knight brought you in. Giving 7 year old kids scares like that isn't a smart thing to do." A soft adult male voice came from the puffball. Strange he would admit, but he would be a hypocrite to judge.

The puffball jumped off his chest as Sparda sat up on the hospital bed and now able to see his surroundings. He appeared to be in a 'medical bay' being the human's version of a healer though it appeared the room was mixed with things he'd seen in hospitals along with actual magic ingredients healers used from his memory used. A mix of past and modern being the term. "Where am I? May I ask thou name who healed me?" Sparda inquired, the puffball let out an amused chuckle.

"Thy name is Simon Healmore, chief doctor of the Halberd's medical bay. I asked my assistants to give you space since we didn't want to overwhelm you once you woke up. Would you like to speak with our captain? He was the one who brought you here himself after all." Healmore questioned, looking at the dark knight. He had a thoughtful look but nodded.

"You can come in Captain Meta Knight!" Healmore called as the armor knight walked in his cape coating his body almost like a count. Sparda was honestly surprised that the masked puffball was even able to carry him but he could feel the immense power in this Meta Knight's small body. Looks can be pure deception.

"I am glad you appear better now. My name is Meta Kishin or what my subordinates and my adoptive daughter Rosa calls me Meta Knight. I am the captain of the Halberd and it's crew." Meta Knight spoke before giving a respective bow. Sparda could smile at the irony of being rescued by a warrior like Meta. He was more humble than other devils who held the title of knight and even a fraction of the masked creature's power. "I thank you for saving my life. My name is Sparda, known to others as the Legendary Dark Knight." Sparda bowed back in honest gratitude.

"Can I ask why a devil general was attacked by his own kind? We already knew when I brought you in that you were a demon. Star Warriors can sense what is human and what is not. Your wounds reek purely of demon." Meta questioned taking the human disguised devil by surprise. He heard stories about the Star Warriors and their home, Dreamland. It was a fairytale for many demons since Dreamland holds the source of unimaginable power. Power that could rival every demon king that ever ruled.

"I betrayed my own kind by protecting humankind and had two children with my human mate… I was ambushed and led away from my family. Found my dear mate laying lifeless and both of my nestlings vanished." Sparda said softly in sorrow and regret.

Meta Knight's eyes turned light blue and Healmore had a saddened look on his face. "I am very sorry for your loss. Though if I may ask a question... how did you find Rosa and Kirby?" The knight questioned. No demon could lock onto the aura of a Living Dream. They can hide themselves from their supernatural senses unless injured or ill.

"I felt a faint signature of demonic energy similar to my nestlings. I followed it only to find the little girl and that small pink nestling instead." Sparda answered, Simon's eyes widening in response. "That explains it. The reason why Kirby has traces of demon energy… he must have been born of your children's dreams. The people of Dreamland are born from fragments of dreams, especially those of children. Kirby must have been made from fragments of your own children's dreams and in turn carry a signature similar to them." Simon explained as Sparda had a wistful look.

"Made from my nestlings' dreams? No wonder why I felt both Dante and Vergil's own energy from Kirby and the massive amount of power hidden deep inside. Can Kirby have the potential to seek out my sons?" Sparda questioned Meta Knight. "You are correct though Kirby isn't able to at the moment. He's too young to properly sense your children's energy but it doesn't mean your children aren't safe. On the night Kirby was created, a spell was cast." Meta Knight explained.

"Weaver's of this newborn dream. Granted protection under the Dream God's seam. Safe haven shall always be grant. Impenetrable from the force of any tyrant. Yet sanctuary shall isn't forever. If thy bond fell prey to hatred's endeavor. Death will truly flood. By the first crimson spray of thy own blood." Simon quoted. Sparda easily understood what it detailed.

"My children are safe...until they draw the blood of one another?" Sparda questioned. "Correct. If they purposely harmed the other with the intent to kill or with pure hatred, the spell preventing them from facing death will break. This spell is granted for each creator of a Star Warrior as a sort of blessing." Meta Knight explained. "Then it should give me time to find my sons." The former demon general picked himself off from the bed.

"I rather not rush off if I were you. It won't be easy finding your kids and you haven't fully recovered your strength yet. Fighting alone almost got you killed once and it wouldn't miss the opportunity to try again." Healmore spoke, Sparda looked back at the doctor. It was clear neither of them were going to back unless...

"I think an arrangement should be made. We'll help you recover and find your sons. In exchange, we wish for information about this world and a chance to find a safe haven to house the refugees on my ship." Meta Knight offered much to both occupants' surprise. Sparda went in thought for a moment upon those words.

The knight had raised very important points. He hadn't recovered his power and also had no resources that could help him find his nestlings. There's the fact he is alone and no safe place to recuperate or any leads. If he took Meta Knight's offer then not only could he get back his full power and find his sons but he will also have powerful allies to assist him and a place to go if things ever went to Hell. "Very well Meta Knight. I shall agree to your offer." Sparda said as Meta Knight bowed in agreement.

"Yay! Spar-Spar gets to stay!" Came a childish giggle for Rose and Kirby popped up from underneath a table to their surprise. "Great Kabu! Were you two hiding under there the whole time?!" Healmore asked, clearly taken off guard by the children's entrance. "Spar-Spar! Spar-Spar!" Kirby giggled while he nodded.

Sparda couldn't help but raise his eyebrow in amusement at the ridiculous name the two kids gave him. "Mischievous little imps aren't they?" Sparda asked, obviously amused watching the two children run around him. Out of everything he was called in his life, no one had ever called the Legendary Dark Knight Sparda, Spar-Spar.

"Rosa and Kirby, if you have enough energy to run circles around our guest then you have energy to go to Susie and Magolor for your daily lessons. Or do I have to get Dedede to take you both there." Meta Knight asked as that got the sibling duo to stop in their tracks. "Ok! We're going meanie! Please don't get Pen-Pen on us! Come on Kirby!" Rosa exclaims, both kids ran out of the room leaving a trail of dust in their wake from how fast they went.

Healmore chuckled seeing how quick the little kids were to leave. "King Dedede sure left an impression on those two. Though considering his habit of taking their desserts as punishment and the sweet tooth both siblings have it's understandable. Now then Sparda, we did manage to find you a room to sleep in. However considering the large amounts of refugees, you'll be sharing a room with Taranza for now. Taranza is one of our best mages and highly skilled at our craft. He is also the best when it comes to showing the ins and outs of the ship to newcomers." Healmore explained.

"Very well. I thank you for your hospitality." Sparda answered, the small doctor escorted him out of the medical bay. The white haired man was greeted to an incredible sight that was held in this vast ship. It was a large plaza filled with so much life and energy. Trees, plants and all sorts of flora nestled comfortably amongst multiple stands, tents and businesses. Children of different forms and species were playing as the adults went through their normal lives. It looked more like a town than part of a ship. "Sparda, this is one of the numerous camps within the Airship Halberd. Welcome to Star Plaza." Healmore stated with a smile on his face.

First impressions were everything when it came to meeting new people or going to new places. And if Sparda was honest about something. It was that the Halberd wasn't any normal ship and neither were it's passengers. It was expected when a demon witnessed something only dreams held. And dreams can create the impossible and a bit of magic to bring it to life.

And that is it. Yes. I crossed Devil May Cry with Kirby. Sparda is alive in this because there is a huge lack of stories where he is alive. Not counting the ones that are misleading from inappropriate tagging. Hope you enjoyed it folks!

[beyond-the-mirror]

Nocturnal Encounters - An Incubus! V x Reader story

Finally after a ver busy week, here’s the first chapter of Nocturnal Encounters. V finally makes his appearance! This chapter is mainly centered around his point of view. Also I think I made it a bit too long, hope it’s not a problem.

Not sure if I should put a warning though. Nothing explicit really happens, just V being a creep and watching reader sleep (he’s an incubus so it’s not surprising at all I guess).

Without any further ado, here it is:

First Night: Perfume

The chilly wind of the night flowed through the jet-black plumage of his wings, green eyes scanning the streets bellow thoroughly.

It had been a long time since he had been in Red Grave. Though he still recognized some of the buildings, the city had definitely changed a lot since his last visit. Hopefully the cozy coffee shop he frequented was still open, he wouldn’t mind a warm coffee and some pastries while reading a good novel. However that would come later, tonight he had a rather special hunger waiting to be sated.

He kept flying silently above the buildings, hoping to find an ideal meal. It wasn’t a particularly urgent issue, he was not starving per se. This would be more like a little snack, a self-indulgent treat for the night being.

Suddenly a soft breeze blowed gently, caressing his soft hair and face. His eyes widened in surprise, the wind was laced with a very subtle but enticing scent. The demon stopped in the middle of his flight.

“What is this? Hmm… ” he asked to no one in particular, intrigue audible in his voice.

Closing his eyes, he focused on the scent trying to identify it better. It smelled of delicate lavenders and roses, and a slight tint of chocolate and berries. A very pleasant aroma definitely, one that made him roll his head backwards and a mischievous smirk appear on the demon’s lips. He had found what he was looking for.

“Love seeketh only self to please, to bind another to its delight.” With a powerful movement of his wings, he followed his new lead.

The more he advanced, the stronger and more seductive the scent would become. Curiosity sparkled in his eyes, he pondered on who could be the bearer of such delicious aroma that strongly captivated his senses. The demon followed the trail to a small building, the delicious perfume coming from a balcony on the second floor. Summoning his cane, he landed onto the reduced space, careful not to step on any of the potted plants that decorated it. Now only a glass door and a curtain stood between him and his prey, and with a swift snap of his fingers, he dissolved into black wisps of smoke.

The creature found himself in a bedroom with pale light blue walls, cream-colored furniture decorated it in a minimalist fashion. He also noticed a short bookcase with stuffed toys placed on the top along with a bouquet of faux forget-me-nots inside a teapot shaped vase. Quite adorable and endearing.

His attention however, was focused on the woman sleeping peacefully in the bed before him. The covers had fallen to her waist, revealing her long-sleeved button-up pajamas, her soft hair was sprawled on the pillow forming a halo above her head, her plump lips were slightly parted in a ‘o’ shape that made her features look even softer than they already were. From where he was standing, he was able to see the gentle glow at the center of her chest that was her soul. He ran his long tongue over his lips, no wonder the aroma was so alluring to the point that it was making him delirious. For demons like him, there was nothing more tempting and seductive than an untouched woman.

The demon stepped closer silently as to not disturb the angel’s peaceful slumber, not even the tap of his cane or his sharp talons against the wooden floor could be heard. He took a seat on the bed at the girl’s side, admiring her sleeping form. He ever so gently ran his knuckles over the girl’s cheek after tucking a few hair strands behind her ear.

“Such a bright soul before me, full of beauty and innocence” he whispered in a deep voice that felt like the smoothest silk the world could offer. “A precious and rare jewel indeed, and to believe that such flower has remained completely untouched by another…” His green eyes were centered on her face and eventually he diverted them to her soul, its glow warm and rich in color.

“Now, shall we take a peek?” The creature raised a clawed finger towards her chest, tapping into her soul and exposing her true self. He often did this to the humans he found interesting, whether it was for obtaining critical information he needed or simply out of curiosity, this case being for the latter reasons. He could see some of her fondest memories, the times she spent with her best friend, her love for all animals and the great kindness she would give to others; he could see passion, perseverance, curiosity, wisdom, wonder… a whole spectrum of colors and hues that painted her bright spirit.

He kept watching with attention, until the sadness that lied in her heart started to come out. Insecurities, doubt, self-consciousness… all in the form of negative comments she had received from strangers, acquaintances and even close family members.

“Why do you keep wasting time on those books of yours?” “You want to study Literature? Arts? That’s ridiculous! You should take a more useful career” “With that uninteresting personality of yours, it’s no wonder you’ve never had a boyfriend” “You’re pretty and all, but… you’re just so boring and dull”

As the painful words poured out, a single tear ran down her cheek. The sight made his blackened heart ache, how could anyone dare to show cruelty towards a bright light? Humans were indeed foolish.

“What is this? Tears? Tsk tsk. Well we can’t have that now, can we?” Wiping her tears away, he shifted to lay down on his side next to her.

“Don’t cry my little one, for as long as I’m here, no more tears of sadness shall fall from your eyes. Allow me to take away all of your pain… and leave nothing but bliss and pleasure.”

And with those words, he placed a kiss on the girl’s forehead. Now that the dream had been planted, it was time to wait.

Opening your eyes, you expected to find your own bedroom, instead you were surprised to find yourself laying down in the middle of what appeared to be a gazebo, flowers of different shapes and colors surrounding it as well as a small pond next to it. You sit up trying to figure out how you got there, your pajamas replaced by a white silk dress. Maybe a dream? But then why did everything seem and felt so incredibly real?

Something fluffy grazed your hand, turning to look what it was, you find a small white rabbit suckling at your fingers. Smiling softly, you pet the little critter with your other hand, the rabbit leaning and nuzzling against your warmth. Suddenly the small rabbit raised its long ears, eyes widening and focusing on something behind you. You furrowed your brow in confusion, and just like that the rabbit sprinted away in fear.

Suddenly a pair of thin arms surrounded your form, making you jump and release a gasp os surprised. You noticed how the arms were completely covered in rivers of black ink that almost seemed to be alive, moving and flowing smoothly across pale skin.

“Sweet babe in thy face, soft desires I can trace”. A deep velvety male voice spoke into your ear in a murmur. Turning around, you lock eyes with the man who held you in his arms, he had chiseled features, his milky skin contrasting against soft jet black locks of hair, his enticing emerald eyes keeping you from looking away.

“Secret joys and secret smiles, little pretty infant wiles” The man kept whispering to you, his voice capturing and hypnotizing you. Not only he possessed an ethereal, almost supernatural beauty, but his smooth voice basically melted you, making you fall into a deep trance, leaving you completely at his mercy.

“As thy softest limbs I feel, smiles as of the morning steal, o'er thy cheek and o'er thy breast, where thy little heart doth rest.” Soft hands caressed your shoulders, and arms as he continued whispering sweet poetry. You could feel his full lips moving against your ear, eventually nipping at it, drawing a long moan from you.

A warm, fluttering feeling made its presence known inside you belly, growing and growing as the mysterious man kept going with his ministrations. Warmth coursed through your whole body, concentrating on your core. The man’s actions, the wind that flowed through the landscape, the fragrance of the flowers around you, the soft chirping of birds in the distance… everything summed up made you feel overwhelmed, but strangely enough, a sensation of peace engulfed you completely.

You closed your eyes, losing yourself to these wonderful sensations.

The girl squirmed and trembled on her bed, a pink blush tinted her cheeks while her lips let out sweet sighs and whimpers.

The demon was hovering over her sleeping form with his arms supporting his weight, admiring his prey beneath him with lustful eyes. Quite a sight she was indeed, he could even feel his own arousal waking up.

“Yes, my little rabbit. Let yourself go for me, allow me to taste your essence and relish in your pleasure”. He grinned in a malicious way, revealing his fangs.

Suddenly the woman let out a loud gasp, signaling she had finally reached her peak. Her soul glowed brighter than before, and he immediately proceeded to feed from the energy released from it.

His eyes snapped open in astonishment, his arms tense and his breath shaky.

“What- What is this?!” A powerful sensation overwhelmed him, making his skin burn in the most delightful way he had ever experienced in his long life. The energy he drank put all of his senses on overdrive, sweet ecstasy flowed and filled his entire being with life and light. The scent was now intoxicating him, making his feel drunk and light-headed, his arousal becoming stronger and unbearable. His eyes rolled back into his skull, and he let out a dark laugh.

“A single drop. I only took a single drop from you. And yet its effects were simply… extraordinaire. My child, you are indeed fascinating”.

If those were the effects of a single drop, he couldn’t fathom how would it feel like when he finally got to claim her fully.

Once both their breathes were regulated, the demon brought his hand to wipe away the sweat that had formed on the woman’s forehead, he reached for the covers and tucked her in, before giving her cheek one last caress.

A soft smile appeared on the girl’s lips.

“Little one, this won’t be the last you hear from me. I shall come back to you, and soon enough, the time for us to meet personally shall arrive. That is my promise to you”

With a clawed hand, the creature plucked one of his black feathers, imbuing it in with his essence and magic. Stepping out into the balcony, he placed a kiss on the feather before tucking it nearby one of the potted flowers, a gift for his precious little girl to keep her safe and protected.

The demon extended his wings and took off towards the night sky. Suddenly settling down for a while in Red Grave didn’t look like a terrible idea any longer.

[youmeandwords]

Open thy doors

Pairing: Do Kyungsoo x Reader

Genre: Smut 

Rated: M

Summary: Widowed and lonely, you are tempted into a sinful and physical connection with a nice church boy who comes to pray for you. 

*Side note: This is my first take on posting my writings on Tumblr. My original documents of my writings regarding the female leads will of had names, but since I’m sharing this, I’ve replaced them to be open to imagination. I hope you enjoy and feel free to share, repost, and leave feedbacks~ Enjoy! :) -Pt Continue reading: Chapter 2

Chapter 1: The Green House

“I’m sorry for your loss, Y/N. Your husband was a great man.” replied Father Kim. 

“I appreciate your kind gesture, Father Kim. I know that my husband, Minjoo would of thanked you as well. Thank you for sending him off well.” replied the late widow Y/N. She bid Father Kim good bye as she went back to tend her husband’s funeral rites. From a distance, Y/N could hear the elder women gossiping about Minjoo’s death and how young he had left behind his wife of 30 years old. 

During the late church youth service, a young man named Do, Kyungsoo was interrupted by Father Kim. 

“Kyungsoo-ah…I have a request for you, I need to you to provide a monthly prayer service to one of our member who’s recently became a widow. I will let her know of your presence as of next month.” replied Father Kim.

“Father Kim, for how long will I be attending this?” asked Kyungsoo.

“For about 3 months every Sunday after services, most families do well with grieving but this is just a complimentary service of our church. It’s also our duty to console their loss. Let me know if you can not make it during those months…” replied Father Kim, with that Kyungsoo bid him good bye. 

“What did Father Kim ask of you?” asked a voice from behind Kyungsoo. He turned around to see it was Ara. She smiled sweetly at Kyungsoo, she had a crush on Kyungsoo ever since they met each other during the yearly church camp event. 

“Oh, I was tasked to give prayers to a recent church member who became a widow…what brings you here?” asked Kyungsoo with a shy smile, he was surprised to see Ara. Her sunny aurora gave Kyungsoo butterflies. 

“I just wanted to see you and see if you wanted to grab some ice cream?” asked Ara. 

“Sure, let’s go…my treat since last time you paid.” Kyungsoo and Ara head off to get some ice cream. 

Over the phone, Father Kim communicates to Y/N about the prayer service that she would be getting for 3 months. Y/N thanked Father Kim as she glanced over at her late husband Minjoo’s photo. What was she going to do without him, the house was quiet as ever. He left her in a huge house along with his parents who rarely was ever home. They lived in different quarters. They never liked Y/N to begin with, and tried to disassociate with her mostly. Y/N didn’t care too much to be liked from his parents, as long as she had Minjoo’s love. As days turned to weeks, weeks turned to a month Y/N slept with Minjoo’s sweater. His scent slowly fades away from her, as she tries hard to grasp onto his non-existence. 

Sunday had roamed around as Kyungsoo found himself standing before Y/N’s door. He knocked 3 times. Fixed his tie and hair. Then the doors opened. 

“You must be the boy that Father Kim sent to me.” replied Y/N. Her eyes gazed over a tall slim figured boy. He was wearing a plain white flannel, grey dress pants and a black tie. Hair slicked back. Kyungsoo cleared his throat as his eyes were engaged with Y/N’s presences. He failed to realized she was still so young, his assumptions were wrong. Y/N was still dressed in a black dress; but oddly her heels were red which made him curious. 

“My name is Do, Kyungsoo. Father Kim has sent me to provide prayers for you during this difficult time period. My condolences.” Kyungsoo replied politely. 

“Thank you, please this way.” Y/N replied as she led them to Minjoo’s office. She was absent in his prayer session; failed to notice Kyungsoo’s existence. He diligently carried on as instructed and prayed for her and gave Y/N words of console and scriptures. 

“Is there anything else you’d like me to pray for, miss Y/N?” Kyungsoo questioned. Y/N was quiet as ever gazing into the stained window. 

“How long do you have to be here for?” Y/N asked him. 

“For about 3 months…” Kyungsoo replied. Y/N reaches to grab the cup of tea but dropped it as she forgotten how hot it was. The tea cup breaks as she tries to pick up the pieces but cuts her finger. Kyungsoo rushes over to help; he grabs her wrist and covers her finger with his handkerchief. Y/N is startled but becomes lost in Kyungsoo’s gentle handling. 

“Are you ok? Please be more careful and pay attention.” Kyungsoo voices out. Those words hit Y/N’s heart as she wraps her arms around Kyungsoo’s neck and hugs him close to her. Y/N wanted to feel something again, feel alive, feel some kind of warmth. Feeling shocked from Y/N wrapping herself onto him, Kyungsoo awkwardly and kindly pats her on the back. Y/N reminisces of the time Minjoo warned her of being careless many times, her late husband was always caring and worried about Y/N. 

“I’m sorry, please forgive me of my irrational behavior…I was…just…reminded of him. Your words.” replied Y/N as she pulls away from Kyungsoo. 

“It’s understandable…do you have a first aid kit? I can help bandage your finger.” Kyungsoo replies. Y/N brings the first aid kit over and watches Kyungsoo put a band aid over her finger. He was delicate and careful in making sure there was no pain; Y/N curiously gazes over his facial and body features. 

“I’m sorry if I ignored your prayers. I feel horrible.” replied Y/N. 

“It’s ok…I can only imagine what you’ve been going through.” Kyungsoo replies. Y/N places her hand on Kyungsoo’s thigh, her eyes lit up at him as she gazes at him with curiosity. Kyungsoo feeling weird at Y/N’s hand placement, he gulps at her and tries to relax. 

“Can you hold me once before you go? If that’s alright with you?” asked Y/N. Kyungsoo found it hard to decline, as he awkwardly held her in his arms as Y/N wrapped her arms around his waist. She felt engulfed into his broad shoulders, his scent was inviting, she could hear his heart beating rapidly. Was she losing her mind already, Y/N thought to herself as she held onto Kyungsoo briefly. 

“Thank you for understanding me. I really appreciate you coming here and giving me a reason to look up again.” Y/N replied. 

“If it glorifies the Lord’s work that you have found answers, then I’m happy to help you from the dark shadows. We all need a hand to stand up when we feel weak.” replied Kyungsoo. From that moment on, Y/N highly anticipated Kyungsoo’s arrival the following month. Maybe it was due to hormones or the abstinence of being taken passionately that drove Y/N desperate for some kind of physical connection. She could not forget Kyungsoo’s scent, broad shoulders, luscious heart shaped lips and those deep gazing eyes. 

It was a Saturday afternoon that Kyungsoo would be heading over to visit Y/N. She made sure she wore something revealing while primping her face up. She was waiting at the green house for him. Kyungsoo was led to the greenhouse, he closed the door behind and wandered amongst the various green plants and trees inside to see her spritzing water on some plants. 

“Miss Y/N…sorry for keeping you wait.” Kyungsoo approached her. Y/N turned around and smiled at Kyungsoo, placing down the water-can she welcomed him to a seat. 

“It’s ok…sorry for making you walk the distance back to the green house…I’m ready for you.” Y/N replied. 

“Father Kim wanted me to perform communion, so I brought it if you wanted to proceed.” replied Kyungsoo. 

“Thank you, I’d like to. Please.” Y/N replied. 

“Come let us close our eyes and join in prayers…shall we?” asked Kyungsoo with a gentle smile. Y/N nodded as she got on her knees and held her hands in prayers. Kyungsoo in standing position placed his right hand on Y/N’s head; started to recite prayers for Y/N. After finishing prayers, Kyungsoo opened his eyes and proceeded to communion. Bread and wine in both his hands, he looked down at Y/N to notice her perky breast cleavage making him distracted; eyes closed at the sight of lust building inside of him. He had accidentally spilt the red wine down Y/N’s breast. She gasped at the coldness of the wine, Kyungsoo opened his eyes to see her dripping in the wine.  

“I’m so sorry…I..I didn’t mean to…” replied Kyungsoo trembling and looking for a towel nearby. 

“It’s ok…I’m sure you are nervous. Please continue.” Y/N replied. Kyungsoo pulled himself together as he proceeded to give Y/N the bread. Y/N’s eyes glancing up at Kyungsoo as he places the bread chip into Y/N’s mouth, his mind filled with impure thoughts. He handed the chalice cup of red wine for Y/N to drink from. Y/N thanked Kyungsoo for communion, as all of a suddenly it started to rain. 

“It’s raining…” Kyungsoo spoke. As Y/N tried to stand up, her knees gave up as she collapsed onto Kyungsoo between his legs causing him to take a seat on the loveseat couch behind him. 

“Are you ok? You must of kneeled too long.” Kyungsoo spoke out. 

“I’m fine…silly me.” Y/N replied as she caught his eyes gazing down at her. He gulped at the sight of those hungry eyes searching for something. 

“Kyungsoo-ah…forgive me. Please.” Y/N whispered with her face down.

“For what? You didn’t do anything wrong?” Kyungsoo replied. 

“I’ve been dealing with personal temptations…of which I can no longer contain myself.” Y/N replied as she hastily unbelted Kyungsoo’s pants. Kyungsoo shocked at her tugging his belt, unzipping him, making him feel a certain way. 

“Please…Miss Y/N, we can talk if you want…we don’t have to do this.” Kyungsoo pleaded with Y/N but she rubbed his twitching groin as it got stimulated. 

“Miss Y/N…I’m..not ready for this. Please.” Kyungsoo whimpered breathless.

“It’s ok…I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt.” Y/N replied as she placed her mouth over his solid jewel making him groan, eyes closed. She twirled her moist tongue over the tip of his erupted head, Kyungsoo gripping onto the sofa. He was tempted to push her away but was weak to the feelings of ecstasy happening between his legs. Eyes rolled back Kyungsoo sat back as Y/N sucked the life soul out of him. Y/N stood up before Kyungsoo as he watched her untie her wine drenched wrap dress to reveal her laced red panties. Kyungsoo was gazing at a sexual demon spirit as she approached him sitting on his lap. Y/N grabbed both of Kyungsoo’s hands and placed them over her bare breast.

“Touch me, please.” Y/N moaned. Kyungsoo fighting the urge to resist but could not as he found himself gripping onto her breast.

“Take them into your mouth and suck.” Y/N asked. Kyungsoo did as he was told, holding her breast in his hand and sucking on her right tit. His plump heart shaped lips surrounded her hard nipples making Y/N moan breathlessly. He ran his thumb over her left tit sending chills down Y/N’s back. 

“I want you to fcuk me Kyungsoo….please. I need you inside of me…so bad.” Y/N whispered into his ears. He pulled her panties to the side and positioned her in. The warm cushions of lust filled his hard cock causing him to grunt at the the tightness of her walls. 

“Fcuk me…fcuk me, please.” Y/N moaned into his ears. He threw a couple thrust into her, sending her off sky high. He could not control himself longer as Y/N rocked him into her. 

“I’m gonna come~” Kyungsoo moaned out.

“I want you to come into my mouth.” Y/N replied as she got off of Kyungsoo and onto her knees. She took his cock into her mouth again, getting a taste of her sweet self cum. Kyungsoo groaned as Y/N rocked her head over his rocket cock, his hand gripping onto her head. 30 seconds down, he groan in release of his load into her mouth. Lifeless he laid back exhausted from all that work watching Y/N wipe her mouth as she put back on her wrap dress. 

“The rain just doesn’t stop…” replied Y/N with a smile on her face. Quietly Y/N walked Kyungsoo back to his car. 

“Thank you for coming…I really appreciate what your doing.” Y/N smiled. Kyungsoo nods in silence as he watches her wave him off. What was he going to do from now on. His head was filled with so many dirty moments of Y/N, his ride home was not easy. The following Sunday came, as Kyungsoo was greeting everyone at the doors for service. 

“Welcome…welcome to Sunday service…please help yourself to a seat.” he replied to all the church members. 

“Kyungsoo…how are you?” Y/N greeted him sweetly. She wore a white laced dress with the same red heels to Sunday church service. 

“Hi Miss Y/N…I’m fine. Welcome to Sunday service, please help yourself to a seat.” he replied. He watched her walk off and find an open space to sit. Ara noticed Kyungsoo gazing at Y/N as she nudged him. 

“You ok? She still ignoring your prayer service?” Ara questioned. Kyungsoo awkwardly laugh, “No, she’s somewhat changed. She’s wearing white.” 

“I’ll save you a spot.” replied Ara as she heads off to sit down. 

45 minutes into the service, Kyungsoo notices Y/N get up and leave. He excuses himself from Ara saying he was gonna use the restroom. He follows after Y/N and notices that she went off into the women’s bathroom. 15 minutes later, Y/N heads back to service as she is swiftly pulled away by Kyungsoo. He brings her to a secluded dimmed library area. 

“Kyungsoo, what’s the matter?” asked Y/N as she catches her breath leaning on the table. Kyungsoo backs her up to the book shelf, his right arm blocked her from moving. His gentle eyes turn dark and stern which strangely and slowly turns Y/N on. She never saw this side before as she gazes into his eyes trying to be focused and unafraid of what he could do to her. 

“What are you trying to do to me? I never imagined you to be like that…” Kyungsoo replied, eyes unmoved from her. 

“I was tempted by you, and I caved in…what was I suppose to do. Please…teach me…or punish me.” Y/N replied with eyes fierce and hot for him. 

Kyungsoo could not resist her after that rainy night. He spent the remaining nights jerking himself to her despite feeling the guilt. How was he going to approach Ara. His virginity was taken like a moment of heat. He kissed Y/N while groping her breast making Y/N moan. 

“So you want me to teach you and punish you, huh~” his voice low and sternly as he forcefully turned her onto the table reaching for her panties and pulling them down to her ankles. He exposed her round ass and slapped them. Y/N biting her lips in suppressing the stingy pain that he left her. He reach around and rubbed her clit making her squirm in moans. 

“I hope those red heels hold you up good. You’re already wet, you Jezebel whore.” Kyungsoo replied as he slapped her ass again before mounting her with his throbbing cock. He thrusted into her and paused as he pulled her back for a french kiss. Y/N moaned in ecstasy as Kyungsoo was pumping himself into her. She never imagined this dark side of Kyungsoo, it was scary yet thrilling. He pulled out of her and made her kneel before him. 

“Take this cock and make me cum…I want to see you swallow your dirty sins.” Kyungsoo replied. Y/N obeyed as she sucked him off so good that he was gripping the table for support. He watched her lips wrapped around his hard cock working so hard. 

“You’re so good, so fuckin’ good. Suck my cock to repent from your sinful nature.” Kyungsoo replied before cumming into her mouth. Y/N swallowed his load as he lightly patted her face in pleasure. 

“You’ve been forgiven…” Kyungsoo smirks pleasantly. The two clean up after themselves. 

“Why do you always wear red heels?” Kyungsoo asks Y/N.

“Wouldn’t you like to know...but I’ll save it for next time during my confessions.” Y/N devilishly smiled and fixed Kyungsoo’s tie in place. The two separately part ways before people noticed. Unfortunately a pair of mischievous cat eyes had seen and heard too much of everything. Inside these library walls they had woken up this sleepy cat from his quiet nap. Now it was time for someone to fess up to their personal sin confessions or be exposed in the holy court of God.  

Hopefully you enjoyed this sinful session. Pray for more...

[itsyagirlsatan]

Yin and Yang’s Performances on the Stage (BBIEAL rp)

*Yin and Yang are performing more often on the Stage. They always go all out and make the visuals great*

Song- Apotropaism

Song Length- 5:43

Song By- GHOST, B.a.D and UmbraticForest

Youtube Link- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxtYPXixnjE

*The song begins a Quiet Instrumental goes on from 0:00 to 1:33. The room becomes dark with a projector lighting up  the stage and slides started showing up around starts from 0:46 to 1:33*

“They say the moon likes to play tricks on you

Like a Selenian Child with deceitful phrases

And on a full moon's night.

This child will find itself especially playful

Some are particularly susceptible to these tricks

Others are not”

Yin: *In the blink of an eye the lights were on and He was in the middle of the stage. His clothes looks like it comes from around the Victorian to Colonial times and he is holding a book. The lights dimmed and 4 candles making a square and they light up. The timing of things while he sings was exact*

“Tonight, when the moon is alight  

When the Candles Burn Bright

An ethereal sight marches on unholy spite”

Yin: *The projector translate the Latin. The necklace with the cross was around his neck. His own voice sings on top of him singing Latin at a certain point. His clothes was not strictly in black and white his clothes was a red,black, dark drown and a few other colors but greyed out*

“(In the Name of The Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit)

In nómie Patris et fílli et spíritus saneti

I pray, O Lord, I Pray”

Yin: *Around him was dark he pointed a side and the area lights up to an 20 year old female and young children while she’s reading a tale and they disappear. He points to another side and it’s a group of people doing a seance then they disappear. He pointed another area and appears a funeral with a wide range of ages and funerals bells are playing then they disappear like the others. The slides of Translation comes back. He spins and appears some people with something behind them something evil. They disappear and dark thick red smoke appear right and left of him as well as bright red fire then it dies down with white light and white clouds. Jesus Christ appears next to him then disappears. He holds a cross holding it in front of him as a Vision of An evil being who is large and it goes by Satan. The evil being was holding a bottle. Jesus comes back but behind Yin who was facing the left side where Satan is then both disappeared*

“Worse than the scripture said. Than the oldest Tale

An eternal Seance and funeral bells

(We cast you out, every unclean spirit)

Exorcizamus te, omnis immunde spiritus

(Every Satanic Power)

Omni satanica potestas

(In the name of Jesus Christ)

In nomini Jesu Christi

(Begone, Satan)

Vade retro Satana

(Never tempt me with your Vanities)

Nunquam suade mihi vana

(What you offer me is evil, drink the poison yourself)

Sunt mala quae libas, ipse venena bibas

(In the name of Jesus Christ)

In nomini Jesu Christi”

(Instrumental 2:14 to 2:17)

Yin: *He lifts his hands and spirits fly around and around him are people spinning around him all except this blonde girl with green eyes was left. She spun to him and his arms around her. She was a lot shorter and younger than him and she disappears as red smoke comes back*

Tonight we dance on the spells of Yesterday

If I may cast away your devout dismay

This Child in these spell-bound arms of mine

Could fall in the hands of hellish times

(Instrumental 2:34 to 2:41)

Yin: *There was a demon and more red smoke. The demon was behind the children and their aura is pure white. The demon has it’s hands on the children. He points to the demon. God appears though you can’t see what his face looks like. He paints and the setting changes to a paradise. The whole setting and the beings disappear. He turns to face the audience and lifts his arms again and people appeared with certain colored aura and demons representing a certain sin. They spin around him. Up high appears a kingdom that’s pure white and gold. The sinners ended up on thee left side walking closer to him. He pushes them away without touching them and a door appears with a huge lock on it. The setting changes to a paradise glitching then it disappears once again The slides still translating the Latin he is speaking this whole time*

“Unhand these blessed children

(Our Father who, art in heaven)

Pater noster, qui es in eælis

Reprimand your hidden sins, oh

(Hallowed by thy name)

Sanetificetur nomen tuum

Uninvited animosity:

(They kingdom come)

Adveniat regnum tuum

Keep thy souls of the damned locked away

(Thy will be done)

Fiat Voluntas tua.

(On earth as it is in heaven)

Sicut in caelo et in terra”

(Instrumental 3:01 to 3:05)

Yin: *The book is gone and his hands in front of him a bit apart as he is holding the world and lifts it up and a smaller version of the paradise appears under the earth*

“(On earth as it is in heaven)

Sicut in caelo et in terra”

(Instrumental 3:10 to 3:12)

Yin: *On the right side there was a baby in a cradle that’s white and gold. A demon runs up to the Cradle and the demon as well as the baby and cradle disappear. What appears are more demons spinning around him and some shooting fire out of their hands and they disappear as graves of small children appear in their place then that disappears. A few moments crosses appear then disappears as Satan appears and Yin faces Satan who is holding a bottle. Then he disappears and people and spirits spin around Yin as stuff like smoke and other stuff comes out of his hands. Everyone disappears and Children appear as well as the blonde girl who is in the front.  All the children in rows they looked sad then they start marching around Yin in a circle and it transitions to spinning. The children stopped and went back to rows. The children seem to glitch and show evil versions of themselves except the blonde girl who looks terrified. The red smoke appears it covers the children the smoke disappears as well the children.*

“You shall evade the cradle of holy youth

Every malevolent apparition

Every Tragedy of ill intent

In the name of our only lord and savior

(Begone, Satan)

Vade retro Satana

(Never tempt me with your Vanities)

Nunquam suade mihi vana

(What you offer me is evil, drink the poison yourself)

Sunt mala quae libas, ipse venena bibas

In the name of our only savior

Tonight we dance on the spells of Yesterday

If I may cast away your devout dismay

These Children abandoned without a sign

Could fall in the hands of hellish times”

(Instrumental 3:46 to 3:48)

Yang: *In a blink Yin is Gone and lights are more bright than earlier and the candles gone. Yang is wearing a huge gown around Victorian era to Colonial times. The dress is a greyed purple with white, Her hair has a greyed purple bow. Yin’s hand cast huge shadows on the wall swaying back in forth. Yin appears on the left. Yin appears and he is turned to a wall on the left with spirits around him glitching and disappearing and shows nothing. Yang looks up holding her hands and a god appears her and she looks down with her eyes closed and God disappears*

“The shadows of your hands on the walls

Sway back and forth in a dizzying array

How much longer till your facade breaks down?

I pray before God: Protect us on this night”

(Instrumental 4:14 to 4:22)

Yang: *The moon light shines and children with cross necklaces are dance around her and spins around her and they disappear. The lights dimmed down again.  She turns away from Yin with has a pentagram on the ground and the 4 candles that are lit are creating a box that the pentagram is in and he has a gun to his head. Yin seems to be begging in some away. The protector shows a picture of a male and female in front as well as the same blonde girl but it’s in black and white but it’s sure looks like the same girl that appeared before. The other children are behind the 3 in the background but they look happy. The lights brighten again and Yang slowly walks away*

“Tonight we dance on the prayer of yesterday

If I may turn away from your grand display

These children were never left behind

And I don't believe in "Hellish Times"”

*As Yang sing times for a bit longer as Yin started singing*

Yin: *Hands appeared from the floor of the stage and disappeared. The lights brighten and chains appear on his ankles and wrists. Crosses are on the back of his hands. There was a clock that says 11pm exactly and he looks at it. The slides translating the final Latin sentence*

“Lest we fall to the hands of Hallows Eve

From the start we were bound for eternity

A cross in these spell-bound hands of mine

(And at the hour of our death)

Et in hora mortis nostrae”

(Instrumental 4:56 to 5:43)

*The black, gray and white picture of The 2 adults and children appeared again but the guy was covered in blood, you can’t see his face and the woman was covered as well as the little girl in front of them but you can still see them. The children looked the same except the 2 in the front a boy and a girl who are upside down. The picture of the picture was also in black, white and gray.*

*After the songs finished the lights are completely on and bright while the stage was completely empty*