#ii. curiouser and curiouser {verse}

[villainsoftheweek]

abandon all hope.

RATING: explicit. 18+ only. — LENGTH: 9,131— Raphael x f![warlock]tav [reader]

CONTENT: being a patron is being a sugar daddy/mommy you can't change my mind, set during Act II canon, small amounts of alcohol consumption, toxic behavior/ expressions of possession/ownership, "fluff", SMUT [unprotected p in v], KINK(S) [praise kink, orgasm control, hair pulling, biting, scratching/clawing, blood, breath play, dacryphilia, just a little degredation, size], there's a lot of poetry in here I did my best, Haarlep cameo, the least Raphael could've done for killing an Orthon for him is fuck us ffs, have fun thinking Raphael is bad at sex I'm built different, this got out so out of hand

you had become his absolute favorite - his most precious client and prized treasure. it's become increasingly difficult not to admit that you're truly his forever...and he's ready to hear it.

"In a world of horrors where shadows loom, A tiny creature navigates through certain doom. A little mouse, determination in its eye, Hoping this will not be its last heard lullaby."

It would be a lie to say that very voice didn't send the most delightful of shivers down your spine each time it announced his presence to you - you hung on each syllable like he was speaking a new language you were desperate to understand. Though your back was turned to him as the corners of your lips twitched upward you could feel in your soul - the one that no longer belonged to you - that he knew.

Though you may have been doing your best to feign disinterest and even often annoyance at his dramatics, it was no secret that you found him amusing. Fortunately, he happened to feel rather the same, a creeping mirth building in his chest at this familiar performance you were putting on.

"Just when I was beginning to miss your theatrics."

It was only then he realized just how badly he'd yearned to hear your voice again in the time since it had last swam into his ears. Curiously - but perhaps not at all - he felt his mouth go temporarily dry as his next rehearsed verse fell from his mind momentarily. When his silence lingered you filled it gracefully as you knelt before a bucket of water, scrubbing your arms free of the blood that covered them as you worked off the most uncomfortable parts of your armor.

His stumble did not last forever - his practiced words would not go to waste.

"With the battle fought and her patron's foe slain, She has etched upon her weary soul so very much strain. With a gentleness most sincere, the Patron offers her rest. Her wearied body, soon at peace even in her mind, No longer bound by battles' fierce behest, Their worries, for a moment, left entirely behind.

For the strongest heroes, too, do need a moment's grace, To find their strength renewed in the tenderest embrace."

Though his continued lack of transparency was frustrating, particularly after the stretch of days you'd had at his bidding, you noticed the practice lilt in his words, the methodic delivery of his latest poem.

"Have you been practicing poetry for me again, my Lord?" your tone was filled to the brim with the very amusement you felt, amusement that was growing by the moment at the slight waver in his voice, the subtlest indication that now was one of few times his trademark control had faltered. "I must tell you, it really is quite sweet. I've never inspired such before."

Your pleasantries and a title you so rarely chose for him stirred a feeling oh-so rare and delicious in him, a tingle up his spine that spread a wicked grin across his face. Exhausted, and uncaring of the company at the moment you continued your work on seeking your own comfort, continuing to peel armor away from your figure and toss it to the side.

Maybe you knew the lack of attention would agonize him - maybe that was only just more amusement for you. Annoyingly, he was attempting to bury the desires as he always did around you, finding now that the feelings stirring were beginning to gnaw their way out from the inside.

"You flatter me with honorifics yet ignore my presence."

His words had the slightest bit of edge to them and yet the tone in which they were delivered could be described as little more than a purr. It was a tone you'd discovered was reserved to fall on your ears alone - he never spoke to you this way in company, though you didn't doubt others existed that were fortunate enough to hear it. It was delicious - made more-so by the sharpness to them, the gentle bite that warned his limits were being tested.

The fact you only heard it when you were alone meant you seldom travelled with companions for too long, discarding them when your interests were no longer the central focus. It was lonely, but few wanted to be at your side when they discovered the source of your power, and the moments like this reaffirmed your decision each and every time.

"In a land of shadows shrouded with a curse most horrific, Lies a weary hero, hoping her devil might be more specific. For if she doesn't soon rest, Her weary body will be for the shadows to ingest."

There was no denying the radiance and allure in his laughter - it rang out so beautifully it didn't fit in a place like this, it almost wasn't fair for such a joyous sound to ring out in such a cursed land. Now, you couldn't help yourself - you turned to face him with a light smile pulling at your lips, exhaustion written on your face accentuated by the blood of those you'd slain in his name.

It pulled at his heart, something that seldom occurred - you were truly always a sight like this, in his eyes at least.

"Your skills increase tenfold each time we meet," he complimented, the smile settling on his face matched by the pull of the wrinkles beside his eyes. "You were successful in your latest task."

It was a statement - not a question, the wordless affirmation of his continued faith in your abilities. Still, you could've given him a snarky response - the blood covering your body and armor wasn't enough of a clue for him? In truth, though, you'd began to enjoy the moments where he complimented you - even more the rare moment he actually thanked you.

"As always," your coy tone was the final act to try to hide the giddiness you felt now, as well as the fatigue that was slowly overtaking your body. When was the last time you had eaten? When he left would you simply remove the rest of your armor and do your best to build a fire and lay beside it, or would you simply make do with the cold ground beneath you now?

He could sense it; he knew exactly what was on your mind. In truth, your thoughts were mirrored in his - this was no place for someone of your caliber to rest, especially not when you'd been so very good for him already. He'd heard about your camp, of course, but seeing it for himself - well, it really was quite awful.

A snap of his fingers and once again you were in the House of Hope, the unmistakeable extravagant decor a much better sight than the lands you'd been traveling. Though it was a bathroom where you appeared it was already enough to almost bring tears to your eyes - it smelled delightful, a bath was already drawn with bubbles and filling the room with the warmest steam. Unsurprising was the small table beside it filled with fruits, meats, cheeses and wine that made a fresh rumble sound in your stomach.

"It is so very fortunate your generous patron is willing to reward a valiant effort, would you not agree?"

You huffed a breath through your nose as a smile spread further across your fae, heat rising in cheeks as you returned your gaze to his. "And who said devils are selfish?"

His beautiful laughter filled your ears again, the warmth radiating from the fireplace and the bath nothing compared to that which engulfed you just hearing the sound so entirely for you. His movements were smooth as he made his way to the small table, pouring a glass of wine with ease while his eyes stayed on you the entire time.

"You have undertaken quite the ordeal on my behalf, you deserve a proper display of my abundant appreciation," there was the unmistakable purr of sultriness beneath his tone, his strides predatory as he made his way back to you, eyes running up and down your entire frame again before settling on your eyes. "And a bath, though I do so worship the vision of my dark hero covered in the blood of my enemies."

"You show your appreciation by providing me my power."

"And yet," the pause lingered heavily - if you weren't so keen on enjoying everything he had to offer you there would probably be a quip about holding for drama, but now you only looked up at him with wide doe eyes - eager and expectant and deliciously obedient. "I find myself curiously wanting to provide you with more."

The look that was blooming in his eyes was a peculiar one - one of a fondness. He slipped behind you gracefully, one of his hands reaching to grasp your hip and turn you to face an ornate mirror before his arm fully encircled your waist, drawing you back toward his chest. His hand slipped up your body, avoiding any part that would have been too inappropriate to touch without express permission, to grasp your chin, holding your face gently but firmly as he angled it to look in the ornate mirror before you.

"The longer you have my power reflected in your eyes, the more beautiful you become. Wouldn't you agree? You are radiant."

Now it was impossible to pass off the heat that had risen in you as nothing more than the heat from the bath - with his hand just beneath your chin on your neck and his claws digging ever-so-slightly into your skin, the heat had begin to pool at your core. You were still trying to remain focused, to maintain the aura of strength you almost never allowed to falter…particularly around him. But with him pressed to your back and his eyes devouring you in the mirror like a feral animal with a long-awaited meal, there were certain signs from your body that gave you away.

The elevated heart rate. The blown pupils. The pull of your bottom lip between your teeth.

It didn't take any amount of perception to see the signs that were so plainly there, particularly not for a devil who was eager to look for them.

"As you've pointed out, I'm covered in blood."

"A testament to our combined strength, my pet," you were certain with the intensity with which he was staring into your eyes' reflection in the mirror that he had stopped blinking, finding an unchanging face each time your eyes closed briefly. "Do you mind?"

He was offering you the wine glass to free up his hand or to distract yours - it was impossible to tell, really. Regardless of the intent you reached for it, taking a drink and relishing the familiar fire this particular wine ignited in your throat and belly.

Meanwhile his free hand was lightly trailing over the bow to the back laces of your clothing, giving a subtle tug to seek permission as his eyes continued to burn into yours in the mirror. With a nod the laces fell free under the quick work of his fingers - it was somewhat endearing that you knew he could do this with the snap of his fingers, yet he was choosing to do it himself, to peel you apart with his own hands. What you'd been wearing pooled to the ground and revealed the aftermath of your battle in full, all of the bruises and scratches and burns that had no place there…unless they were given by him or on his word.

His hands found your shoulders first and with a familiar warmth your injuries became another part of your past, his eyes trailing up and down your body to ensure all that remained was evidence of injuries not belonging to you.

"Positively resplendent," his breath was hot on your neck as he angled his face closer to yours, his nose brushing behind your ear softly. "A painting of this image would be so suitable for a portrait of us, wouldn't you agree?"

Bravery - it was a characteristic of yours that he cherished nearly more than any other, one that provided endless entertainment (and often worry, though he was hardly eager to admit that). It was the very trait that sometimes pushed you to do or say the very last thing he expected, and yet you still managed to take him by surprise. Even now in his domain was one of those times, your face unwavering and intention resolute as you spoke.

"Not in this form."

All he'd offer in his momentary shock was a raised eyebrow before these features faded and he transformed to the figure he was meant for, wings stretching behind his back as he got more comfortable. This is how he was meant to look - how the two of you were supposed to appear together, the devil and his toy hero, you and the source of your growing power. It would take blindness not to see the radiance with which you two joined together, and even then it was palpable in the air.

Ignoring the many feelings and tensions that crackled between the two of you when you were together was difficult - and growing more impossible by the day.

"This is suitable for the foyer."

He continued to lean down behind you, swallowing you with his true height so he could press a singular kiss behind your ear before straightening his back, his hand that was still flat against your now fluttering stomach pulling you against him tighter. Your skin burned where his lips had graced it - tingling as though his the action was magic. Your body only continued to respond to him with all of the tell-tale signs: a rising temperature, parted lips, blown pupils, quicker breath.

He so adored that you were trying to maintain control - to maintain an unbothered façade.

"You prefer me this way."

It left his mouth as a statement, but you caught the subtle insecurity at the tail of the sentence, the way his words slightly trailed and his eyes flashed with a truth - and hope? - that was so rarely seen.

Was he afraid of your answer?

"You don't need to wear a mask around me," you were quick to silence his doubt and eager to put out a particular fire that threatened everything around it boiling beneath his surface. Your sincerity and sensitivity was hardly what had initially drawn him to you - he loved that you'd always been willing to tell him your mind without a care to whom you were speaking, even himself included at times. "You would know that I preferred you this way if you spoke to me yourself more often instead of sending your little spy."

Suddenly you understood the meaning of the phrase "devilish grin" in a new light.

"Do I detect jealousy, my dear?" he purred as he leaned down toward you again, his breath tickling the back of your ear and neck and his claws dug into your hip slightly. You tried to ignore the flare of heat within you, unwilling to admit it fully quite yet. "A flicker of envy, so very subtle but clear."

You huffed and rolled your eyes in response to his taunt, annoyed he could think of a rhyme so quickly and a charming one at that, and even more annoyed that it worked. Bards.

"Korilla does not enjoy the same…benefits you do," he continued when you offered nothing in response but the puff of air, a reticent hum vibrating in your chest as you raised the cool glass to your lips to take another drink. Your eyes met his in the mirror again as you realized how long they'd been focusing on his hands, allowing your gaze to stay connected as you continued to drink.

Of course, he was hardly one to leave a silence unfilled for long.

"And what of my own feelings?" he questioned, the twitch in his jaw accentuating the frustration behind his words that he was trying to tame. "So many people you meet these days and you haven't shared with a single one where you get your power…"

It was hard to focus on a conversation like this when his claws were now grazing lower down your thigh, red lines painting your skin the evidence the Cambion's claws had been there. In the mirror you could see how he lovingly soaked in the sight of each new mark - of each new claim of his territory. You'd have far more decorations from him by the time you returned to your own camp.

"What am I supposed to think other than you're ashamed of me?"

"No," the rejection of his insinuation came from your lips faster than any reply you'd given before by far, a fact that ticked his lips into a slight smile. Though the two of you teased anda taunted one another often, you were always well aware of the line before you stepped over it. "They wouldn't understand."

"They don't have to understand…they have to respect. Besides, it's not their soul to be bothered with, and you're hardly the only warlock in your little party."

"But they won't. With the Blade of Frontiers it is different…he had no choice, not really. I did - I could've chosen anything else…anyone else. And I chose you."

"Then you will make them."

You could hear the commanding tone he rarely needed to take with you begin to form in his words, a low grumble rumbling against your chest as he spoke. At this point you knew what little remained of his patience was so close to slipping away completely - but you still couldn't stop yourself from testing those tempestuous waters just a bit more.

After all, he needed you alive just as much as you needed him. Harm too serious coming your way was out of the question, and the proof you could take a bit of pain was in the stories that would be told about you and your adventures for years to come.

"It's just another contract to you. What difference does it make?"

The final impertinent word left your lips as his hand grabbed your chin, applying pressure and encouraging you to face him. He loomed over you in this form - a delicious fact - his skin noticeably hotter against yours as he leaned closer, trapping you between his body and the wall. Flames danced in his eyes, the raging inferno matching the temporary flare of anger he felt ignited in his chest. His grip on your face was resolute, thumb and forefinger grasping so hard your cheeks were squished together.

That would certainly keep you from further insult.

"I am so very fond of you, my impudent little mouse. Can you not see that is so?"

You'd been in many dangerous - increasingly so - situations recently, but the fact this one was one of the most was…invigorating. Invigorating in the same way as when he'd first approached you with a deal, in the way he'd complimented a job well done for the first time, in the way he was overjoyed when you returned from your kidnapping. In truth - because you were not foolish enough to deny what was a plainly writ fact - you were well aware you belonged to him in every aspect of the word. It was fun to test what boundaries a relationship like that presented.

Your heart was thudding against your chest harder and faster by the moment as he continued to regard you, fully aware you couldn't respond to his question through the hold he maintained on your face.

"I will not hear more of your ill-mannered mouth while I am being such a gracious host. You are far from 'just another' anything to me…"

There was a sincerity in his words that shattered any possibility of refute.

"…and I will not tolerate our attachment being hidden any longer."

A threat, or a promise? Both were equally exhilarating in their own way. With the expression on his face - furrowed brows, pinched nose, set jaw, and nostrils flaring with each breath - his feelings toward the situation were written plain on his face. He was done arguing - and you'd be foolish to push it.

"Perhaps I could have a collar fashioned for you that only I can remove."

His hand that still held your waist pulled you closer, a muscular tail winding around your lower legs to hold you against him. One of his legs slotted between your thighs as you pressed to him closer, hands clinging to his upper arms still. His face softened somewhat at the closeness, at the shaky breath that slipped past your lips as your eyes stayed oh-so focused on the way his curved into a wicked grin the more the thought blossomed in his mind.

"One that will burn you should you even try to remove it. Or perhaps better yet, a curse," as he spoke you found yourself drawn closer, entranced by the hardness in his pants that pressed to your waist now, chasing a kiss you weren't certain he'd give. "Or I could use hellfire to brand a symbol of my name beneath your eye - small enough not to ruin your beauty, large enough that everyone who sees you knows that you are mine."

He released his hold on your face only to drop his hand lower, lightly gripping your neck in a silent show of power. He regarded your expression carefully for any sign of distress and only grinned wider when he instead found observed your blown pupils and parted lips, his fingertips soaking in your accelerated pulse beneath them.

The fire in his tone sizzled for a moment, still lingering in each word but not quite as fearsome as even just a moment before. Sweet, almost - if you didn't know any better to see through the charm.

"Swear to me anew," he cooed, his thumb rubbing along the side of your neck as he spoke, eyes gazing at you with an expression that could only be described in adoration. The most temperamental volcano, fury subsided as fast as it'd come. When there was an offer to be presented, he could truly be oh-so-sweet. "An amendment to our existing contract. You are not to hide that we are joined together, or you will face consequences that will last forever."

Did it matter if you even truly had the option to refuse him when all you wanted to do was please him again? The proposition of more appreciation, the promise of his praise. That fact alone was enough to ensure your answer before you'd given it.

You nodded in understanding - specifics beyond what he'd stated weren't needed to convey the weight of his words.

"On one condition."

The bravery again - though your voice was more meek as you rightfully walked the fiery embers before you, navigating what you knew could still erupt again if you pressed too much harder again. To prove your point his eyebrow raised in annoyance, nose threatening to scrunch upward in frustration before you elaborated.

"We seal this contract with a kiss."

An expression that had almost been rage morphed into perplexity before a laugh burst from his chest, your mind lost in the sound and the view of his fangs, thoughts wandering somewhere fittingly sinful for your surroundings.

"And you talk about my theatrics."

Despite his taunting he brought you closer with his iron grip on your waist, the hand holding your neck still sliding up to your cheek as his thumb claw grazed along your bottom lip in passing. He looked at you like a child receiving a new toy, regarded you with an adoration often seen in temples.

And then, though there was still a subtle laugh shaking his chest, he held you reverently as he angled his head toward you. The rest of his expression as he approached would go unnoticed as your eyes slipped shut, holding your breath in anticipation…which he exploited for just a moment longer than was necessary before he finally gave you what you both wanted.

Your lips met like the strike of a match - the spark between flint and stone. It burned like frostbite and was over just as soon as it'd begun, taking your remaining breath with it.

It was a purr that rumbled in his chest as he ran his nose along your jaw that reminded you to breathe, his lips pressing a kiss over a pulse point on your neck pulling a gasp from your lungs as his hand slipped down the other side of your neck. Holding you like an artifact his fangs teased the skin on the spot for a moment as his grip on your waist tightened further, the tips of his claws threatening to break skin.

He withdrew before his composure melted, filling his chest with a deep breath to bring himself to full sense again.

"Come. I'm far from through with you, but you truly do need a bath."

It was…nice, which didn't quite seem wholly appropriate considering who he was and the fact the atmosphere had been threatening and tense only moments before. He sank into the tub first, motioning for you to join him by taking place between his legs. There was a voice in the back of your mind reminding you that all of this was because he wanted something - everything possible from you, and that he knew the best way to reach his goal was to manipulate.

The fact you were aware of it did little to stop you from enjoying it.

He made sure he ate and drank in a silence you didn't know he was capable of as his hands made work cleaning your body, a bath in the House of Hope proving to be a lavish experience as the water remained pristine and hot no matter how long it went on.

*(Though, it certainly could've just been the heat between your bodies sustaining the temperature).

It was the first time you'd truly relaxed since a tadpole had taken residence in your mind, the first moment of bliss in days. When his claws found your scalp and scratched against it lightly as he massaged soap into it he earned a thank you in the form of the sweetest moan that just couldn't be held back by your lips. You felt his cock twitch against your back at the sound, an appreciative hum rumbling in his chest.

"My, my…who knew you could sound so melodic, my dear," his tone was best described as a condescending coo, treasuring the way you melted in his hold and couldn't help yourself from being his to play with. "I want to hear much more of you."

One of his hands slipped from your head down to rest on your stomach as the other went even lower to the top of your thigh, pausing still to wait for your reaction. When you leaned your head back against his shoulder and closed your eyes he took his sign, chasing more of a reaction from you by running a single claw softly up your thigh toward your core. The small gasp that fell from your lips wasn't enough, his disapproval noted with a click of his tongue against his teeth. It was impossible to keep silent when one of his fingers connected to your clit, rubbing a swift circle quickly.

The cry that burst from your chest returned the smile to his face, a low laugh filling your ears again as he leaned forward to kiss your neck. Two of his fingers parted your folds as they slipped downward to your entrance, moans falling freely from your mouth you'd forgotten how to close. Taking advantage of the fact he leaned closer to claim your lips, reaching his free hand to hold the back of your head and ensure you couldn't pull away from him.

A dark possessiveness within him considered slipping his fingers into you to feel how your tight walls would grip him, though he knew it meant you would face the consequences of his claws. He could heal you, after all - but you'd always remember the feeling. He'd refrain on that particular thought…

For now.

Instead, he returned his attention to your clit, fingers circling the sensitive nub as his fingers tangled into your hair. He continued to kiss you past what your lungs could take, your eyes opening to attempt to gain his attention. His own eyes remained closed and he only held your head in a firmer grip - no doubt he knew though he couldn't see - and he continued that way until your vision was just starting to blur and your hole was clenching around nothing. Only then did he release you - releasing you fully by pulling his fingers away too - allowing you to take the breath you needed.

So close to the edge of release only to be pulled back away from it. It was a cruelty that made the first sound that left your lips when your breath returned to be a whimper.

"Please," you could barely get the shaking word through your lips, it could hardly be considered speaking when each letter was filled with a whine. "More."

"Now now, you will learn to take what I give you," he cooed, releasing his hold on your head to run the back of his fingers down the side of your face and neck, lightly pushing your head to the side to press a kiss beneath your ear. "With no questions asked. Won't you? You'll have to show me you can be patient."

You couldn't help the whimper that slipped past your lips again, your body singularly focused on its need for more. Your eyes are wide and desperate as you gazed at him, hands reaching to grasp at his thighs and squeeze. "'s not fair…"

Your ears were filled with his boisterous laugh again before he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, allowing his lips to stay against your skin as he spoke.

"Perhaps not for you, but it's perfectly lovely for me," you realized as he spoke that he was having fun, a giddiness in every word that proved it. Unrehearsed, without anger, without practiced intentions. Him. "Finish up in here at your leisure, then join me in the boudoir."

With a snap of his fingers he was gone and the option to beg for more removed you were alone, left to wonder exactly what awaited you when you did join him. The kind of excitement that matched the feelings of fear and anxiety bubbled in your stomach, making your movements a little clumsy as you navigated your way through one last wash of your body.

The feelings remained as you removed yourself from the water, realizing immediately you'd been left with no towel or robe or clothes to utilize on your walk. Feeling a flare of preemptive embarrassment you found your way to the hall, doing your best to navigate quickly as you muttered to yourself.

You were distracted in your search that you didn't notice Haarlep had stalked up to you from the dark after you'd passed until their voice filled your ears. "My, my, aren't you just delicious," he purred, continuing to walk closer toward you when you froze in your tracks. They circled you like a predator circled prey, like a painter studying their subject - it was enough to make your face burn again. "I wouldn't mind slipping into your image for the occasional rendezvous."

"Haarlep."

Their name left your lips as a gasp and they stopped in front of you with a wicked smile, handsome and proud and no doubt every bit as convincing as their Master, if not more. "So you do know me. How flattering."

You were cornered against a wall with one of their forearms resting next to your head, the other grasping your hip in fingers much gentler than the ones they were mimicking. They leaned closer until your lips were brushing together feather light, the anticipation of a kiss lingering heavy in the air and sending your heart rate skyrocketing again.

"Oh, what fun we will have together…"

Their sinful tongue left their mouth to lick the seam of your lips until they fell open, the muscle slipping into your mouth to kiss you fully and hungrily. As you swallowed their spit you started to feel new levels need, the definition of the word insatiable finally grasped in your mind. One of their knees knocked apart your legs as their hand left your thigh, slipping to examine how wet you were and finding their digits slid through your folds with embarrassing ease.

"Mm…but that will be for another time," there was a sincerity in their words that made them so believable and you were certain they were correct about it. "Tonight, your job is to make him a bit more tolerable for the rest of us. Be a good pet and behave, won't you?"

As they sauntered away in a pace that existed to entice you to follow they threw one last wink over their shoulder, pointing you in the direction of where you were meant to go. In a haze you made your way to your destination, opening the doors to find your Patron sitting on the grand bed with glistening satin sheets, lounging back against the headboard with his arms outstretched, waiting for your arrival. He'd covered himself with an expensive robe, the one he'd deprived you of.

The red of its fine fabric matched his burning aura perfectly.

He observed your clumsy movements as you closed the doors with light amusement until the two of you were once again alone, his eyes appreciating your clean form as you walked to the foot of the bed. With a smile he raised a hand to motion you forward with one finger, his features fittingly illuminated by the hellfires that illuminated the room.

He was beautiful. Enticing. This very room could become an easy prison with no locked door if you allowed your resolve to slip.

"Come," he invited in a delicious tone, using one hand to untie his robe and allow it to fall open. He patted his thigh afterward to further elaborate on his instruction, one you were more than willing to follow. "Crawl to me…show me what an obedient, eager little pup you can be."

You did exactly as he told you to, enjoying the feeling of the soft sheets against your skin as you made your way to him. You climbed into his lap and straddled his waist between your thighs, core hovering over his hard and throbbing cock that you now wanted more than logic should reasonably allow. He felt how wet you were when your thighs made contact with his skin, breathing in deep to take in the scent of your arousal.

"My, my, how very eager you are," he spoke of you as if he was being presented with the meal of a lifetime. It made you feel desired in ways you weren't sure you'd be able to experience with anyone else for the remainder of your life. "I have to wonder, did my naughty toy find you along the way?"

You nodded, the only response you found yourself capable of, grinding down against his waist in a way that allowed his length to slip through your folds and spread your slick. His hands grasped your hips to follow your movements, chest vibrating against yours with a quiet purr as he appreciated your movements.

"Oh, of course they did…sometimes they just can't help it, the sinful thing…"

Both of his hands found their way to your thighs to grab them roughly, not making any effort to be mindful about his claws in places it wouldn't seriously hurt you - something that would become a pattern for the rest of your time together. Under his fingertips he could feel the welts that raised as a result of his scratching, smiling a charming smile as he took in your expression.

Finding you perfectly needy for him he reached one hand to grab your jaw and pull you closer, leaving his face hovering inches from yours. His skin was noticeably hotter against yours now, the undeniable evidence that he was just as effected by your closeness as you were his. His other hand gave your ass a swat to encourage you to raise up on your knees again, licking his lips when he could then reach toward your core and run his fingers through your folds again.

It was easier to feel the arousal he - and Haarlep, now - had earned when you weren't submerged in a tub. His fingers took the distance from your hole to your swollen clit painfully slow, matching the deep inhale he filled his lungs with along the way. Lost in how his hands felt against your body again you hardly noticed his tail wrap around one of your legs to hold you against him tighter, ensuring there was no chance of you climbing off before he'd had his fill.

It was hardly something he needed to do, but the implications of it made the experience all the better for him - and for you too.

"Don't forget to speak to me, my dear," he cooed, no annoyance present in his voice though he was hardly happy he had to remind you as he exercised a bit of patience at your current state. "I simply adore hearing the desperation in your words."

"Please, I need…"

Though he'd requested them your words were cut off as he pulled you against him rougher, pressing his throbbing length up into her core as he does. Your sentence quickly turned into a moan, your hands grabbing at his shoulders so you could cling to him in every sense of the word.

"Do go on."

You hated that his taunting tone sent a shiver down your spine and a hot wave of arousal straight to your core. Your desperation flooded every word that came from your mouth. "I need more," you were begging without having to be asked for it, something he would thank you for at a later time. "Something…a-anything you'll give me."

"Anything I'll give you?"

Was that particular choice of words a mistake? You found you couldn't come to a rational answer as you became lost in the embers of his eyes. You nodded, grinding against him to further your consent and ensure the point was driven home - you wanted him in whatever capacity he'd provide, in any way that would earn you more of his favor.

You hadn't realized your lip was quivering and your eyes were slightly watering out of the desperation but he had, soaking in the sight of you so wanton and lustful for him. It was his favorite look on you by far, and he couldn't resist the opportunity to see how truly indecent he could make you behave.

And all for him.

"Then prove to me you deserve it. Prove to me you're worth the effort from me and then I will prove to you that you are mine."

You only leaned closer to entice him the rest of the distance between you. You reached between your bodies with one hand to grasp his cock and rub it through your folds again, lining it up with your entrance and teasing down onto the tip slightly to test what he'd allow. He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to express a thought that disappeared as you began to sink onto him, maintaining the eye contact you knew he loved as you moaned out his name quietly. He forgave you when your eyes fluttered closed to focus on taking his length and girth, your forehead falling down against his shoulder as a heavy breath fell from your lips.

"That's it," he was quick to compliment your efforts to ensure you knew how much he appreciated it, hoping the praise would keep you from giving up. "You can take me. Do not get discouraged…"

Your head nodded as another steady breath left your chest, shifting your hips to find the right angle to take him in. Though his words were honied you knew he was hardly the patient type and to avoid a temper change you pushed yourself onto as much of his length as you could take, finally earning a groan from him that was worth the quick shot of pain that being stretched like this brought. One of his arms reached to wrap around your waist and his other hand found the back of your head, cradling you against his form. His wings soon joined, wrapping both of you in privacy and what felt like the ultimate safety.

Within his wings it would be impossible for anyone who entered to see how well you began to ride him after a long adjustment period, how after several minutes of grinding and shifting and allowing him to pump into you you began to take him perfectly. Though he maintained his hold on your head your lips were finding their way to any place they could reach on his neck, chest, and jaw, eagerly nibbling and licking and sucking - testing if you could mark him like he'd undoubtedly mark you.

He decided you were testing him when you bit into him hard, his surprise announced by a grunt and a squeeze from his hand holding your hip. He gave your hair a tug to pull you upward into a hungry kiss, your moans joining together in the room as your hands grabbed his horns to hold him against you.

This is how he wanted you for him forever.

As your tongues danced your movements slowed, his hands meeting on your upper back to press your chest closer to his. Allowing you a partial breath he pulled away from the kiss to watch your face twist in pleasure as his claws dragged slowly down your back, pressing harder the lower they reached as he experimented with what you'd allow. You were eager to prove exactly what he'd requested - you could take what he would give.

His own head dropped to claim one of your breasts in his mouth, his tongue circling your nipple and flicking the nub several times before he changed his efforts to suck hard enough to bruise, glad he could stay here without a real breath for longer than what you may have previously experienced. He only pulled away to bite a mark into the soft flesh that immediately spilled some blood - as you continued to ride him exactly how you liked you either didn't notice or you didn't mind, either of which were fine by him.

"Very good," he purred, remembering how well you normally responded to his praise. He was thanked by a quiet moan and your walls tightening, fluttering around his length as he struck just the right cord in you. "Should I allow you release before I have my way with you?"

You were nodding before his sentence was fully complete and begging incoherently as your face buried into his neck again, continuing to lavish the skin with kisses. Your thighs began to shake at the mere thought of release, at how it would feel to gush around his length and how he would moan feeling you constrict him.

Whatever words he chose to give you permission were not fully understood, only their intent mattered. Though he wanted to pump into you at his own pace he allowed you to find release in this position yourself, happy it didn't take much longer for your walls to clamp around him and your head to throw back in ecstasy, your screams undoubtedly filling every wall in the house despite the closed door.

He held you down on his length as you spasmed through the high, enjoying the feeling of your body against his and focusing on how you felt held in his arms. He was always going to take what he wanted from you after you'd found this release but the longer he soaked in how small you were against his frame the more his own carnal desire began to take over his thoughts, a feral need building that wouldn't be long ignored.

"You have hold of me like an addiction," he breathed out heavy, shifting his hips beneath you - earning a whimper - wondering how much you'd truly be able to take. "So…unh…tight…"

Before you had fully returned to your senses he was pushing you onto your back, staying inside you with little effort and pinning you down with one hand on your stomach. His other hand rested at the base of your throat with his forearm beside your head, and just as your mind began to fathom how dangerous the position you were in was he kissed you slowly, silencing reason once again.

You could feel how sensitive you were as he pumped his length into you a few times - slowly to test your reaction. He pulled away from the kiss to examine your face, finding it filled with pleasure and overstimulation - traces of pain were there but you gave no indication he needed to stop.

"Do you think you can take what I will give you?"

His lips moved against yours sensually as he spoke, and you opened your mouth to answer for only a sob to be released. Instead you just nodded, hoping it would be enough in the circumstances and looking into his eyes with a pleading expression. He pressed a kiss to your bottom lip and pushed every inch you could take into you roughly, earning another sob that was muffled as he bit into your bottom lip enough to cause it to swell. He pulled away from the action with a wicked grin and savored your expression for a moment longer before this position came to an end.

He pulled out of you slowly, moving to stand next to the bed. In your haze you listened to him give you instructions to get on your knees and elbows, instructions you followed hastily on shaky limbs as he stroked his length watching you obey. When you were finally presenting yourself to him exactly how he wanted he mounted behind you, still grasping his length in one hand as his other reached forward to circle your dripping hole with two fingers.

"Precious. I will try not to break you."

His fingers were gone and replaced with his cock swiftly, his restraint gone as he thrusted in as far as he could, still trying to press further when he reached the end and smiling when the most beautiful cry filled the room from you. He groaned out deep as his hand found your stomach, pressing against it to hold you upward, reaching his other hand to slip the fingers that were coated in your slick into your mouth.

"So small beneath me," he breathed out, leaning forward to press a kiss over one of the red welts he'd created on your back. He engulfed you in this position, you were at his complete mercy - all hope of being anything but his ever again gone. He would never give you up. "On your knees for me. Just where you should be."

He forgot to be somewhat gentle with you as he thrust into you at a feral pace - or perhaps he just didn't care how little you were able to move when he was through. He continued to kiss your neck, shoulders, and back in any place he could reach, his teeth marking your skin anywhere he could manage. His claws were just as helpful in regard to marking you, reaching to scratch at your thighs and back - until he focused his hand's attention on your ass, spanking and scratching and grabbing roughly as proved to give him additional leverage as he pounded into you.

He was already obsessed with the way you took him with moans and cries while ensuring you stayed in the position he'd molded you into, eyes transfixed on how your tight hole took his length. When this whole Absolute ordeal was taken care of at your hands, he'd happily take this sight every day.

"Look at you just taking me," his voice was shaking now, matching your legs once again. His hand left your stomach to squeeze your throat, accentuating the fact that you were truly just taking whatever he would give. "And you do it so well, you sweet thing."

Content with how marked you were for him his hands instead grasped your waist in the gentlest grasp he'd offered yet, not quite matching the ferocity at which he pounded into you. Through blurred vision you were half aware of the familiar figure that slipped into the room through the shadows, the incubus unable to keep away witnessing what was filling the House with the irresistible sounds of flesh smacking against flesh.

You didn't know if Raphael noticed - you didn't care. You doubted a complaint would be heard if you offered one, and they would leave after you'd reached your release and they'd heard your euphoria anyway.

(Though you did momentarily hope that sinful tongue they'd offered earlier could be put to a better use, though you knew your body would be spent by then).

"Give me another," he ordered, feeling how your body was tensing up again at the threat of release, eager to feel you snap again. "And I want to hear it…"

He reached to rub your clit again at a speed that matched his thrusts, eager to feel how tight you'd squeeze him when you came undone, already intoxicated by the way your velvet walls were fluttering around his length. He was taking what he wanted from your body at a roughness that would no doubt leave bruises for you to feel on the road to Baldur's Gate - he certainly wouldn't heal marks that were a gift from him covering your back and neck and causing you to walk with a limp that so clearly displayed you had coupled with him.

He let you fall to the bed fully, only finding he was able to pound into you harder as you laid flat on your stomach. Unwilling to have you pass out he grabbed your hair on the back of your head and pulled hard enough to force it back so you could continue to breathe, leaning his torso over yours until he could twist your head and claim your lips in a rough kiss. He was hungry - feral - fully lost in himself as he chased his own pleasure, releasing all inhibition as he found his release. The only warning it was coming was the sloppiness that overtook his thrusts as the end neared, a growl rumbling in his chest as he pulled away from your lips to instead bite into your shoulder.

His seed was molten as it filled you, overflowing past his length. As his release filled your womb his teeth broke your skin and he tasted your blood as he was lost in his pleasure. He'd crave its flavor that was entirely you just as often as he'd crave claiming your womb now, knowing the mark would show you were his.

He continued to pump into you slowly several more times, holding you still as you squirmed and whimpered from the overstimulation, hearing the shake in your breaths and sweet sounds that proved to him you were crying. When he decided to pull out completely his chest shook with a quiet, dark laugh, finding a comfortable position straddling over your ass. His hands were loving in the way a curator's were with art, running over your scratched and bitten back adoringly for several moments, fingertips tracing the marks that would last the longest. He leaned down to press a kiss to a particularly possessive bite mark before removing his weight from you, rolling you to your side to to check that you were still capable of coherency.

You blinked up at him with glassy eyes, tear-stained cheeks proving he had been right about your tears. He leaned to press a single gentle kiss to your forehead as he pulled the blanket over your weak body. Selfish of a creature as he was, he was still capable of some semblance of aftercare - though that was it, it was enough from someone like him to someone like you.

"Well done, my dear. A wonderful demonstration of your devotion to me."

This praise - this tone. The very reason you'd do anything he asked, become anything he needed you to become. Anything he asked of you in a moment like this you'd provide. Part of you wondered how long it would take for him to exploit that fact.

"Next time you've behaved for me I will have Haarlep join us. They can lick my seed clean from you as I watch how you look beneath me."

(You'd think more on that particular promise later, when your mind was capable of wrapping around anything other than Raphael's finger again).

His new tone was undeniable and impossible to ignore, the reverence steeping every syllable enough to drown in them. Appreciation, worship. It was difficult to decide if being beneath him or hearing this newfound depth of praise was more fulfilling. You nuzzled closer to him still just barely conscious, physically submitting to the exhaustion that overtook every inch of yourself.

You nodded your head lazily in agreement before burrowing your face in his neck, enjoying the familiar scent of cherries, musk and sulphur that had come to mean power and protection to you. If you were lucky those sinful notes would linger in your senses in the coming day.

Though he was far from one to cuddle, he wasn't one to complain when presented with any show of mutual adoration from you, and he allowed his tail to drape across your legs in a subtle concession to your own desires.

Beyond that, he was still, but he was content.

"Rest," you were intoxicated with this voice, one you couldn't help but wonder how few beings had heard it, one free of any performance - honest, soft. "You will need it before you continue your journey. When you wake you'll be in camp with your cohorts, and when you reach the city again you will return to me."

In your last moments of consciousness, you remained his eager little pup.

masterlist. baldur's gate III masterlist.

[k-nayee]

Cursed in the Spider-Verse JJK x Spider-Verse ii

wc: 3.7k a/n: lol, once again a part-two series became part three.

Jujutsu Kaisen x Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

Traveler M.List

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ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

The doors to the Jujutsu High teachers’ lounge slammed open so hard they bounced back with a loud bang.

Nanami's brow rose in irritation from his seat at the table with the daily newspaper in hand while Yaga paused in his knitting, his fingers halting over the newest cursed doll he had been conjuring up.

Even Gojo, who was laying sideways on the couch with a cup of bubble tea, tilted his head curiously at the sudden intrusion.

Itadori stumbled in first, his breaths ragged, his face pale as his wide eyes darted around the room. Megumi followed close behind, his shoulders stiff with tension.

The previous warmth that filled the lounge stilled instantly.

"Heyyy!" Gojo's sing-song voice was the first to break the silence. "Look at you two! Did ____ beat you up in training or something?” His usual playful tone carried a smirk as he added, “Don’t tell me my favorite kouhai is out there gloating while you come running to cry like sore losers.”

At the mention of your name Itadori froze mid-wheeze, his eyes going wide. He opened his mouth but no words came out.

Gojo’s smirk faded instantly, the playful edge in his tone faltering. "What happened?"

Nanami set down his papers with deliberate care as his narrowed gaze looked between the boys. Yaga had leaned back in his chair at this point, his usual firm expression growing darker as he took in the sight of them.

Itadori ran a shaky hand through his hair. "She...she's—"

“Move, move, move! Let me through!”

Nobara stormed in, dragging a thoroughly exasperated Maki behind her. The spectacled teen's hair was slightly mussed, her usually neat uniform wrinkled as she scowled.

“The fact I let you to drag me along this shit...” Maki muttered darkly, her voice laced with irritation.

“Yeah yeah whatever. You'd do anything for ____,” Nobara replied dismissively, her arms loaded with shopping bags.

Seconds later Panda and Inumaki followed them also carrying an array of bags. Panda, grinning like a child, sported a fuzzy white sweater that seemed just a size too small.

Meanwhile Inumaki had a pair of sleek sunglasses perched on his nose making him look unbothered and far too cool for the chaos he’d walked into.

“Yo! We’re back!” Panda announced proudly, holding up his bags. “Check it out—look at this sweater! So stylish right?”

“Salmon,” Inumaki added with a nod of approval, adjusting his sunglasses.

Nobara ignored them, her sharp eyes scanning the room until she landed on Megumi and Itadori. Her brow furrowed immediately.

“Speaking of ____, where's my favorite partner-in-crime?” she asked as she dropped the bags unceremoniously to the floor. “I found the cutest top and sweaters for her—she's gonna love it!”

Itadori flinched again, his face twisting into an expression of pure guilt. The silence that followed her question was deafening.

Nobara’s playful tone vanished in an instant. “Where is she?” she demanded, her voice sharp.

Megumi took a deep breath in attempt to keep his voice low and controlled. “The mission we were sent on...The Grade 2—”

“Grade 2?!” Itadori interrupted, his voice rising as his frustration boiled over. “It was not a Grade 2! That thing was way above our level—”

Thunk!

Nobara slammed her fist down on Itadori’s head making him stumble forward. “Shut up and let him finish idiot!”

Itadori groaned rubbing the back of his head. “Fine fine…”

The argument sparked a chain reaction.

“What kind of curse was it?” Maki asked sharply.

“Why didn't you call for backup?” Panda chimed in a scolding way.

“Salmon roe,” Inumaki added pointedly.

“Shut the hell up. All of you!”

The voice was gruff and mocking, its origin unmistakable as everyone turned their attention to Itadori’s cheek.

Sukuna’s mouth curled into a wicked grin, his crimson eye gleaming with malice.

“Finally,” he sneered, “I thought I was going to have to listen to you brats cry all night. The little broad? Yeah, she got sucked into a portal by a curse way out of your league.” He chuckled darkly, his voice dripping with derision. “Not that it matters. She’s probably dead by now.”

The room froze.

For a second no one moved. The weight of Sukuna’s words hanging in the air like a guillotine un—

“WHAT?!” The uncharacteristic outburst came from Inumaki, his usual restraint shattered in an instant.

"Dead?!" Nobara wailed, her arms flailing dramatically as she dropped her shopping bag. "Are you serious?! She’s not—she can’t be—”

“Shut up!” Maki’s voice cut through the chaos as she slammed a hand down on the table, her sharp glare pinning Sukuna in place. “What the hell do you mean ‘out of our league’?”

“Exactly what I said four-eyes,” Sukuna sneered, his gaze flicking lazily to her before settling back on the panicked group.

“Enough.”

The single word came from Yaga whose firm tone silenced the room instantly. His expression remained unreadable, but those who truly knew him noticed the subtle tightening of his jaw.

Megumi took a deep breath. “The curse...”

All eyes returned to ravenette. He looked down for a moment to collect his thoughts before raising his gaze once again.

“It wasn’t like anything we’ve fought before—much stronger than we anticipated," he began. "It could manipulate dimensions. The curse called itself Masato."

Nanami, who had remained silent up to this point, straightened slightly. "Masato? That name sounds familiar..."

"It wasn't normal," Megumi continued, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. "It opened a portal right under her. We tried to stop it, but…” His voice trailed off as his composure wavered.

“She was gone,” Itadori finished weakly, voice barely above a whisper.

Gojo’s posture was unusually still. Even with his eyes covered, his displeasure was clear to see.

"Sukuna."

The atmosphere was cold, tense as Gojo turned his head toward Itadori—or more specifically toward the grinning mouth on his cheek. “You seem to know more than you’re letting on. Care to share with the class?”

Sukuna's mouth curled into a mockingly thoughtful smirk. "Maybe I do....maybe I don't."

The tension in the room grew so thick it was almost suffocating.

“Oh come one…” Gojo’s voice was light, though the edge in his tone was unmistakable. "This is the child of the Principle of Tokyo's Jujutsu High we're talking about! You’re really gonna tear this poor man’s family apart like that?”

Gojo tilted his head slightly toward Yaga who remained stone-faced. But the slight clenching of his hands as they rested on the desk betrayed the concern he wasn’t voicing

Sukuna’s grin widened. “Child huh? Could’ve sworn she was adopted.”

The air shifted.

Gojo took a step closer,his tone dropping to a dangerous calm. "Sukuna," he repeated the King of Curses name.

Sukuna chuckled tauntingly. "Or what? You’ll fight me? That's cute."

Gojo’s expression didn’t change, but a faint hum of cursed energy crackled in the air around him.

“If you know anything about how to get her back you’ll tell us,” he said, his voice colder now. There was no room for argument in his voice—it was an order.

The room felt frozen, it felt almost too tense to even breathe as the two powerhouses sized each other up.

For a moment Sukuna simply stared at Gojo, the grin never faltering. Then he let out a sinister laugh. "Fine fine. I'll tell you something...for a price."

"A price?" Gojo's gaze darkened, and a faint hum of cursed energy crackled in the air around him.

Sukuna's grin widened. "Nothing in this world is free Satoru. You want her back? It’s gonna cost you. And trust me…” His voice dropped, almost a purr. “The price won’t be cheap.”

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

The cool night air nipped at your skin as you climbed in through Miles’ window, his hand firmly on the small of your back to help steady you.

He moved quickly, already crouching inside his dimly lit room as he pressed a finger to his lips.

“Shh!” he whispered barely above a breath. “Just a heads-up, my parents are not only super light sleepers, but also not cool with the whole sneaking-a-girl-through-my-window thing. So y’know, the whole interdimensional-traveler-from-an-anime-universe thing would probably make their heads explode.”

You shot him an unimpressed look, brushing the dust off your uniform as you landed softly on his carpet. “Noted,” you whispered back dryly as your eyes began to scan the room.

A small lone lamp in the corner casted a soft yellow glow over the space, illuminating the walls lines with posters of graffiti art, vibrant sketches, and a few music icons you vaguely recognized.

A cluttered desk sat in another corner, covered in half-filled sketchbooks, cans of spray paint, and what looked like a half-finished design he’d been working on.

The bed, unmade and covered in a navy-blue blanket, sat beneath a few shelves stacked with books, comics, and what looked like action figures.

Messy yes, but in a way that felt...lived in.

Miles scratched the back of his neck once he caught your staring, his lips twitching into a bashful smile.

“Uh yeah. Welcome to Casa Morales,” he gestures dramatically as he moved further into the room. “Not exactly Jujutsu High, but it’s home.”

You ignore his attempt at humor. Your body was still tense from the events of earlier, your mind racing to figure out where you were, what was going on, and—most importantly—who this boy was.

He offered you a small smile and gestured toward his bed. “You can sit here if you want.”

You didn’t move, choosing to stay near the window. “I’m fine standing. Just start talking.”

Miles blinked. “Right. Yeah. Okay, but first…” He reached up, tugging at the edge of his suit mask. And as the mask slipped off, you found yourself momentarily caught off guard once again.

The dim light in the room hit him differently.

His skin glowed warmly under the soft glow of the lamp and his honey-colored eyes sparkled with a kind of youthful energy that was hard to ignore. His hair was cut in a clean fade, the tight dark curls on top so fluffy and healthy it almost felt unfair.

He looked…boyish. Young. He couldn’t have been much older than you—sixteen at most.

And yet there was something about him that made you pause.

You realized you were staring, snapping yourself out of it, straightening and forcing your expression back into its usual guarded state.

“Stop stalling,” you fold your arms. “You still haven’t explained how you know everything about me.”

His smile turned sheepish.

“Fair point. Anyway, uh—come here!” He practically bounced toward the bookshelf above his bed.

You move over to his desk to lean against. “Alright Morales,” you said, quirking an eyebrow. “Let’s hear it.”

Miles didn’t answer right away. Instead he squinted his eyes, scanning the shelves with a focused expression before letting out a triumphant, “Aha!”

Pulling out a comic book, he holds it up like it was a trophy.

“This,” he said, his voice brimming with excitement. “This is how.”

You tilt your head as you step closer to get a better look. Edges slightly worn from use, the glossy cover of the comic stared back at you causing your breath to hitch.

It was you.

The artwork was stunning as it captured you mid-action. Your figure stood in the center of the page, fiercely staring down the viewer with a vague smirk tugging at your lips.

Your hands were outstretched with cursed energy crackling around you as the world behind you was frozen solid—time itself locked under your control.

The title in bold letters read: Jujutsu Kaisen Gaiden: The Path of ____

“…What the hell is this?” you muttered, reaching out to take the book from him.

“That’s you,” Miles said proudly, grinning ear to ear. “The Jujutsu Kaisen manga is huge here. Like...huge. This issue is a special one—a sort of in-between-arcs, and it’s one of my favorites. I mean look at you! You look so badass.”

You hesitated before flipping it open, the pages feeling oddly heavy in your hands. The first panel was a memory—a scene you could never forget.

It was the day Yaga—Masamichi—took you in. You couldn’t have been older than seven, your small hands clutching a scarf too big for your neck as he knelt in front of you, his face kind but serious.

Your chest tightened as you stared at the page. You flipped to the next panel, your stomach twisting as you saw more memories.

The years you spent with Megumi flashed by—how he would summoning his shikigami for fun before you had mastered your freezing techniques, how you both used to hide under the school steps when you wanted to skip chores.

Another page.

The moment you met Yuji for the first time, your staff swinging toward him as he dodged at the last second. You remembered the way he grinned at you as though he hadn’t been intimidated in the slightest.

The panels flowed like a movie reel, showing moments you had long thought belonged to you alone:

Late nights spent sneaking extra snacks from the school kitchen with Megumi. A quiet moment in the garden where you sat with Yuji, his head tilted toward the sky as he talked about his grandpa’s last words.

Things that had happened in private. Moments you’d only shared with your closest friends.

It was all there...everything was there.

“This...this isn’t possible,” you whispered, your fingers trembling as you turned the pages. “How did you do all this?”

Miles was quiet for a moment as he shifted on his feet. “It wasn't me,” he said cautiously. “It was an manga artist, his name is Gege Akutami. I told you—you’re a character in my world. People read about you.”

You stared at him then down at the book in your hands. It was too much. It was all too much.

But then you reached the final pages of comic and your heart sank. The fight with Masato—the curse that had dragged you into this mess—was laid out in shocking detail.

You could see every strike, every movement, every moment you had shared with Yuji and Megumi as the three of you fought....

And then the panel of you falling into the portal.

Your hand was outstretched, reaching for Yuji and Megumi as they desperately reached back. The expression on your face—fear, determination, and sadness—was captured so vividly it made your stomach turn.

“That’s…that’s where it ends,” Miles said softly, pointing to the panel. “No one knows what happens after that. Been a huge cliffhanger for months actually.”

You slammed the comic shut, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

“This is insane,” you muttered, your voice shaking. “How does your world know all of this? How can I be—” You stopped yourself, unable to even say the word.

“A character?” Miles offered gently. “I know it’s a lot. Believe me, I’d freak out too if I were in your shoes.”

You turned away as you clutch the book tightly. The fight, the portal, the look on Yuji and Megumi’s faces as you disappeared—it was all burned into your memory.

And now seeing it again, drawn on a comic page for strangers to consume as entertainment...

Before you could spiral too far, Miles grabbed your wrist and tugged you toward his desk.

“Hey hey—don’t get all gloomy on me now,” he said, his voice light and reassuring. “Let me show you something cool!”

You let him pull you along, your curiosity overriding the heaviness in your chest. He sits you down at his desk-chair and quickly wakes up his computer.

The screen flickered to life and he began typing furiously, pulling up tabs faster than you could process.

“Alright...check this out,” he said, spinning the monitor toward you.

You were met with endless fan art—your face in every style imaginable, from detailed realism to exaggerated chibi drawings.

One image showed you standing shoulder to shoulder with Megumi and Yuji, snowflakes falling around the three of you, while another depicted you mid-fight, your staff raised high and ice shards surrounding you like a storm.

“People love you,” Miles babbled as he scrolled through the images. “Look at this one—oh and this! And there are fan polls too. Like, tons of them. Who’s stronger, you or Gojo? Who’s your best ship? People even debate your favorite food. It’s wild!”

“Ship?” you echoed, leaning closer.

“Yeah, like who you’re supposed to end up with romantically.”

Your brain short-circuited for a moment, but before you could demand clarification, something on the screen caught your eye.

You point at the screen. “What’s that one?”

“Oh that’s a fan theory about your technique,” Miles explained, clicking on the post. “People think you’re gonna unlock some next-level time-freezing ability soon. They call it Chrono Dominion. Sounds pretty sick right?”

You could only blink. “I don’t even know what that is.”

Miles laughed. “Yeah well fans go crazy with theories. Oh and here’s your wiki page!” He clicked on another tab, revealing a detailed biography filled with stats, trivia, and even a popularity ranking.

You squinted at the screen, your voice flat. “Why does it say my favorite food is taiyaki? That’s not true.”

Miles grinned sheepishly. “Uh…artistic license?”

As he scrolled, a tab briefly flashed across the screen. Your caught glimpse of it made your brows furrow—Rule 34: ____ [NSFW], it blinked innocently among the others.

“Wait—what was that?” you asked, leaning forward and clicking.

Miles froze, his entire body stiffening as an array of pictures appear. “Nothing! It’s nothing!” he nearly shrieks, quickly closing the tab with a flustered expression.

Your eyes narrowed. “Was that…? Was that...hentai?!”

“No! No no no!” Miles said as he waves his hands frantically. His face flushed as he laughed nervously. “I mean not on purpose! It’s—it’s the internet! Stuff like that just happens! I wasn’t even looking at it—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” You can feel your face heat up as you turn away horrified. “What are you, some kind of perv?”

“I’m not a pervert!” he exclaimed, practically falling out in desperation to defend himself. “I swear it wasn’t me—it was the algorithm!”

“Yeah the algorithm,” You mutter as you glare at him.

Desperate to change the subject Miles suddenly blurts out, “So! Anyway about the love triangle!”

“Love triangle?” Your glare softened slightly, replaced by confusion. “What love triangle?”

“You know,” he said, brightening. “The big Jujutsu Kaisen love triangle!”

You tilted your head, still not understanding. “You mean...between Gojo, Geto, and Shoko?”

Miles paused, looking at you like you’d just sprouted another head. “What? No, I’m not talking about—”

“I knew it!” you interrupted, your entire demeanor shifting in an instant. Your eyes lit up, sparkling with excitement as you leaned forward. “Me and Nobara totally have theories about them! Like, okay, listen—”

“Wait hold on—” Miles tries to cut in, “That’s not—”

“We’ve been piecing it together forever right?” you said, your excitement spilling over as you launched into full gossip mode. “The way Gojo and Geto used to look at each other? Please, there’s no way that was just friendship. And Shoko totally knows—she’s in on whatever they had going on. Like c'mon it's sooo obvious.”

Miles opened his mouth to object again but you weren’t done.

“Seriously,” your tone grew more animated. “There’s no way it was just a friendship. I mean, Nobara and I have been compiling clues for months. And then there was this one time Shoko made this offhand comment about how they used to share—”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Miles finally interrupted, holding up his hands to stop your tirade. “First of all there is no Shoko in their relationship.”

You paused, blinking. “Wait...really?”

“Of course,” Miles said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Everyone knows Geto and Gojo are the OTP of the century—GGs for life. Nobody can come between that.”

“Oh...” Your shoulders slumped slightly, a pout forming on your lips. “So...you weren’t talking about them?”

“Nope,” He pops the p. “I was talking about the real love triangle.”

You frowned. “What real love triangle?”

Leaning casually against his desk, honey-colored eyes sparkled with mischief. “You know—the one between you, Itadori, and Megumi.”

The words hit you like a slap to the face. “Huh?”

“Yeah,” Miles continues nonchalantly. “It’s a huge deal in the fandom. Like one of the biggest debates in the entire series.”

Your jaw drops. “Wait hold on! What?! No no no! They’re my best friends! That’s it!”

Miles shrugged, clearly amused by your reaction. “Hey that’s how it starts. You spend all your time together, fighting side by side, sharing moments—all that good stuff. People can’t help but see the tension.”

“What tension?!” you demanded, your voice rising slightly.

“Exactly!” He snapped his fingers. “That’s what makes it so great. It’s subtle! It’s all in the looks and little moments. You don’t even realize it’s happening, but the fans? Oh they see it. The angst, the chemistry, the possibilities.”

You backed away, shaking your head as your mind spiraled into chaos. “When would there even be time for tension? Between fighting curses and almost dying, there’s no room for—” You cut yourself off with a groan.

Miles, utterly unbothered, grinned wider. “I mean you’ve got to admit you three are pretty iconic. A girl stuck between two dudes who are both crazy loyal to her? People eat that stuff up. Ultimate poly ship.”

Your jaw dropped. “Poly—what?! We're friends! That’s all! No one’s stuck between anyone!”

Miles raises an eyebrow like he didn’t believe you for a second. “You can be friends and still have romantic tension. That’s like half of anime.”

You pressed your hands to your temples. “Love? No. No way. It’s not like that. It’s never been like that!”

Miles just leaned against his desk as he continue to watch your internal meltdown. “Man I wish I could take a picture of this reaction. You’re so in denial. The fandom would eat this up.”

You glared at him, pointing your staff in his direction. “Say one more thing and I’ll destroy your stupid laptop.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay okay. But seriously though...you’ve got a lot of fans rooting for you. It’s kind of cool don’t you think?”

You groaned at his words. “I can’t believe this.”

Slumping into the desk chair, your head bury into your hands. “This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Miles smirked. “Worse than being sucked into another dimension?”

“…Okay, second worst.”

[kstewdeux]

@inuvember | Inuvember 2024 | Prompt Miroku | Ao3

Miroku frowned as he turned the textbook page back and forth, back and forth, back and-

“Kagome-sama, query,” he finally called out and Kagome glanced up from whatever stew she was working on, “The war of the world. It says the country of Japan was involved.”

“Ah, yup,” Kagome chuckled awkwardly as she stirred a few herbs into their dinner, “Japan was indeed involved in that.”

Miroku marked the pages with his hand and opened to the map that was printed behind the cover.

“So we had battle with the continent and lost,” Miroku surmised - looking rather perplexed and like that wasn’t surprising at all, “I will say the demons we’ve encountered from that region have been rather impressive and if it is how you say, that there are no monks or priestesses in your time, no demons, the defeat must have been rather sound.”

Kagome sucked on her teeth and watched as Inuyasha gracefully got up from where he’d been pouting beneath a tree for no reason.

“Let me see that,” Inuyasha huffed as he stormed over and took the book out of the monks hands, “What page were you on? Where was the battle?”

Miroku sighed in annoyance and yanked the book back. After a minute, he found the section he was on and Inuyasha plopped down with a scowl.

“So the continent killed all the demons,” Inuyasha mumbled before raising irritated eyes on Kagome who was ignoring them, “Oi! Kagome! The continent killed all the demons, right?”

Kagome let out a controlled breath. Of all the days for Sango to go repair her weapon, it had to be the one the boys decided to actually take an interest in what she was learning.

“Demons were not involved in World War II,” Kagome sighed and both men’s head whipped up.

“Two?!”

Kagome winced and continued stirring her stew.

“There were two wars of the world. Two?” Miroku hissed in disbelief as he began flipping pages until he got to a map - he ran his finger over the page, “But Japan looks so small comparatively. Your book said-“

“Look, I do not have the time or the patience to catch you two up on centuries of history that hasn’t even happened yet,” Kagome huffed, “Japan attacked. We pissed everyone off. Lots of battles. Big bombs go big boom. We surrendered. The end.”

Miroku made a face whereas Inuyasha seemed oddly defensive.

”Why would we have attacked-“

“We started the fight then surrendered?” Inuyasha scoffed in disgust, “No way Japan surrendered. We’d fight to the death.”

“Yeah, yeah, that was kinda what happened then the other side dropped big bombs and wiped out entire cities in minutes,” Kagome supplied, “Ash. Nothing. Just gone. So the emperor surrendered to prevent everyone dying. Good job Japan.”

“So you think we should’ve kept fighting,” Inuyasha asked curiously.

“That isn’t what I said,” Kagome groaned, “In the grand scheme of things, Japan was one of the aggressors. We did bad things. We were one of the Narakus of the world.”

“Well, we’ll change it. That’s what the quest is, right? We stop him. No Naraku. No world war,” Inuyasha concluded and Kagome gave him an incredulous look.

“Naraku wasn’t involved in World War II,” Kagome replied slowly, “That’d be four hundred years from now.”

“I’m just saying no one would be stupid enough to invade the entire world unless it was Naraku,” Inuyasha huffed with an eye roll, “We kill him. The war of worlds never happens. Problem solved.”

“It would still happen because it wasn’t Naraku,” Kagome insisted, “It was-“

“Emperor Hirohito,” Miroku supplied with a frown before he abruptly flipped back several pages, “I’m not particularly well versed in the world of politics but we have an emperor now, do we not?”

Kagome’s eye twitched at the non sequitur nature of this conversation.

“Yes. Yes, we have an emperor. The dynasty goes back to the 7th, maybe 5th or 6th, century-“

“Dynasty? So the line of succession has been unbroken?” Miroku breathed in awe, “That’s-“

“What number are we now?” Inuyasha interjected as he yanked the book back, “Kagome, what number century-“

Miroku gave his friend a withering glare and stole the book back.

“What does it matter what century?” Miroku clipped, “The upper classes have always preyed on us and if this book is correct, that continued until it nearly destroyed the entire-“

“That why you prey on them?” Inuyasha surmised, “Bitter about class inequality?”

Miroku scowled.

“For a fellow member of the low born class, I would think-“

“For the record I am not low born on either side. I’m high born,” Inuyasha humphed pettily. Miroku looked nonplussed and raised a single brow.

“How is that working out for you? Well, I presume?”

Inuyasha’s face contorted in anger.

”How about I shove that-

The poor miko closed her eyes and let out a long breath.

“Neither of you need to worry about the freaking World Wars. If anything, just keep an ear out for the name Nobunaga,” Kagome muttered and Inuyasha gaped like Kagome just slapped him.

“The rejected toad prince guy?!”

Kagome sat back and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“How do you remember that?”

“Because I’m not stupid,” Inuyasha scoffed in annoyance, “You saying I should’ve killed the toad guy? Why didn’t you tell me? Look what you did! Now we get world wars.”

“No, no, I am not saying we should’ve killed the toad guy! He had nothing to do-“

Miroku glanced between them with a somewhat amused smile.

“Was I present for the Nobunaga toad man?”

Inuyasha sighed in annoyance and rolled his eyes.

“Don’t remember a gross comment about the naked women in these bubble things so-“

Miroku’s eyes widened in interest.

“In bubbles, you say?”

“Oda Nobunaga was a shogun who unified Japan. The ‘Great Unifier’. It was not the poor kid who came to save the frog princess,” Kagome interjected before this conversation could devolve further into madness.

“And the emperor is the leader of Japan, right? So Nobunaga becomes the emperor,” Inuyasha concluded incorrectly, “We kill him. No world wars. Problem solved.”

“I would like to revisit the bubbles,” Miroku hummed with a wicked grin, “Specifically-“

“No,” Kagome snapped at the monk before turning her irritation onto Inuyasha, “And no. No, Nobunaga was not and is not the Emperor. Just a very-“

“So who’s the Emperor then?” Inuyasha cut in.

“Hirohito,” Miroku supplied unthinkingly, “So about the bubbles, were they-“

“Can we stop talking about the bubbles!?” Kagome screeched before cursing softly when her stew began bubbling over. She quickly began trying to move it off the flames, “And no! No, Hirohito is in four hundred-“

“So if the war of the freaking world didn’t kill demons, what killed demons?” Inuyasha interjected like that was the most important part that kept getting skimmed over, “Because I’ve been to your time. There aren’t demons.”

“Well maybe they just all moved or got sprayed with demon pesticide. I don’t know,” Kagome hissed as she tried to keep their food from getting ruined.

“Pesticide?” Miroku asked curiously, “What is pesticide?”

Kagome barely stopped herself from screaming.

“Spray that kills bugs on crops,” she ground out as her annoyance hit critical levels, “Look, I am trying to save our food-“

“That would make a difference,” Miroku hummed with a wise nod.

“Oh like you’re a farmer who’d know,” Inuyasha scoffed before rounding in Kagome, “When did demons stop showing up in your books? Because look around, they’re everywhere right now. When did they-“

Breathing heavily, Kagome turned irate eyes on them both before getting to her feet and storming away. The boys watched her go for a minute before Miroku gave Inuyasha a side-eyed glance and a playful smirk.

“Out of curiosity, how many bubbles were there?”

Inuyasha fidgeted as he watched Kagome head into the treeline - probably to scream.

“Dozens,” a faint blush, “Not gunna lie. It was kinda awesome. You know, except the toad demon eating their souls bit.”

Miroku made a soft ‘hm’ sound and nodded sagely.

“That would put a damper on things, yes.”

[mochiyukiii]

— ; INFO && VERSES && TAGS FOR : TOMURA SHIGARAKI

name: Tenko Shimura / Tomura Shigaraki alias: Shiggy, Hands, more to be added | age: 23 gender: femme presenting && pronouns: she / they && sexuality: asexual height: 5'3" && weight: ≈ 136 pounds hair color: black (original) | blue (natural) && eye color: bright red scars: across the lips, around the throat + various parts of the body. && piercings: verse dependant && tattoos : verse dependant positive traits: observant, loyal, creative, charismatic, domineering && negative traits: tempermental, childish, arrogant, rude, spiteful, prideful, neurotic, lazy, self depreicating, dependant (formerly), vengeful, hateful, seeks approval, destructive (often self) likes: dogs, solo video games, sugary comfort foods, Eraserhead, vigilantes, heroes (some, secretly), routine && dislikes: physical strain, being outside, teamwork, admitting wrong.

-·—-·-·—-·-·—-·-·—-·-·—-·-·—-·-·—-·-·—-·-·—-·-·—-·-·—-·-·—-· — verse i postmortem legacy ; the start to an end, this verse takes place right after the USJ attack where Shigaraki ( and the League ) are starting to gain reputation. instead of being so blantanrly outwards with movement, Shigaraki is a bit more caculated and willing to neogotiate a bit with certain heroes for gain and blackmail material ; this verse incorperates the Vigilante manga lore and Shigaraki will take up Six's legacy with the underground work as well as the trigger trade and build off due to that part being woefully under used. — verse ii heroes && villians ; a simple "what if" verse where Shigaraki was actually helped by a bystander instead of instantly falling into all for one's clutches, the twist is that instead of dealing with being able to become a hero like in most au's ; Shigaeaki still faces the troubled part of society due to Decay being dubbed villianous. The League will exist however, it is more of a joint effort leaning towards historical PLF ideology rather than it's bigotry. — verse iii game over ; typical rehab au but, instead of something like house arrest, Shigaraki is forced to "clean up' all the collateral damage using the given quirks after the war has ended however, this means that there's a chance that maybe this isn't Shigaraki manning the vessel anymore (up to future interaction) —verse iv new save ; basic hero au where Shigaraki never decays the rest of the Shimura family but, does inevitably be removed from the home out of conjoined fear of Decay ; Shigaraki is placed with all for one this time due to him being Kotaro's "friend" while things aside from this remain semi-canonical, All for One humours Shigaraki's love and curiousity for heroes and permits the interest in the same manner as Six was allowed due to the success however, Shigaraki is still active discreetly in the ravamping of the Underground Masquerade

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

SHIPPING GUIDELINES : I like ships as much as the next person but, this is a precautionary thing to let you know that if you want to ship with me ; I'm fine with just going with the flow or pre-establishing something but, all ships are typically in their own universe unless clarified for blog storyline purposes. This being said, keep in mind Shigaraki isn't a 100% sane depending on which verse you're interested in and is notoriously childish and ill-tempered due to their upbringing, unless stated don't expect them to be lovey-dovey in the traditional sense. I prefer slow burns with Shig because they're an antisocial asshole but, I know sometimes things are hectic and I'm willing for pre-established ones. I don't mind most ships but, I draw the line with anyone trying to ship with minors ; I'm just uncomfortable with the idea and I'm bringing it up because I know that ShigaDeku is semi-popular.

[lonethetraveler]

Hi! I’m here from ao3 and I was wondering if there’s any of your oc(?) lore for Devotion’s precipice that you could share? I totally understand if that would be spoilers though

Like many writers, I tend to create a lot more lore than what actually ends up in the work itself. Because of that, I don't see talking about it as much as spoilers as it is getting to share all the fun extra stuff I've come up with!

One of the concepts I've toyed with a couple times are classifications of shapeshifters, which I think is perfect for Dottore in this fic. (Including a break because I wrote more than I expected! Written like a knowledgeable field-journalist for textual flavor)

While many mythical creatures have the ability to change form, one genus of humanoid shapeshifters are unique in that they are primarily defined by their ability to take multiple forms; dubbed generally as polymorphs. Among these, three distinct species are noted:

i. Mimics have the ability to imitate any inanimate object. Vases, socks, dishware, etc. Their exterior perfectly replicates the texture and weight of whatever object they've disguised themselves as, though anything inside or beneath the 'skin' retains a distinctly bodily composure, and most find the best way to identify a mimic's disguise to be finding flaws in the item's construction as it must be created from memory and practice. Curiously, they are unable to replicate any material coming from an animal source.

ii. Zoomorphs are limited exclusively to the animal kingdom. Nearly any animal is fair-game for their disguises, though many note difficulties increase the farther away from their initial human size they stray. Unless well-versed in the habits of the animals they've become, zoomorphs do not innately mirror the behaviors of their disguise, and are likely to be avoided by members of said animal's species despite holding similar scent qualities. An in-person familiarity with the animal of their disguise is enough for a complete impersonation.

iii. Most limited, yet perhaps most effective, the Doppleganger has the ability only to alter their human shape. As long as they've observed the aspect of another they wish to replicate, they find little trouble replicating those qualities perfectly. Voice, appearance, even perfumes are within their capabilities. In all cases, they are unable to replicate clothing and any aspect of a person they're not aware of. For example, a scar hidden beneath a shirt, or a mole on the back may be something missed in their transformations. Despite superstition, there is nothing inherently malicious about Dopplegangers, and the vast majority of individuals spend the bulk of their lives in the unique or 'default' state they were born in as there is a degree of concentration and energy expenditure tied to the process of shifting.

[karlrothstein]

Vicissitudes

The bleak room began to shift its weight upon me.

Throes and fears coursed through a silvered light,

shuttered and wilted, the prospect had dimmed.

From correspondence a letter of derision arrived,

it cast me in to a faulty machine, syncopated and sublime.

With heavy breaths I began the curiously difficult walk from

my comforts. Cloths began to disintegrate like the Russian

ballrooms for Alexander II. Soon the ragged apparel had some

condolences from apathy, chiming a song from Jeremiahs verses.

Hitherto untouched veins began to pour out their bargain,

for a kopeck, a shilling, a bronzed bull.

Cope and desist, reform and swallow the bold poison! Came the

cheers from an illumined crowd, mystified by the humble ambience

of perseverance. What a spectacle the stadium found in me,

not nearly the epicenter of admiration, nor the calamity of prediction.

I had a bit of luck with joy, as holiness preserved the flavor of salt,

the texture of sand, and the coagulation of serenity.

The morning shivered through my fast asleep eyes whilst coiled

around an angel of love. The burden had sank too deep in to the soil.

A confluence of disdain and paranoia resolved Prince Hope to

gather these arbitrators of diurnal decision. Disinterring the fortune

generated meant an eternal spring with only patient silence.

[libidomechanica]

“With thy curiously im almost”

A ballad sequence

               Chapter I

An Indian growing day, the World drag the clocks     once, and frowned.—The day wax too county babe in one sought that thy word. Suppose, or three will     woo: the dead let no memory: but

when their lad! Here and no marigold tale he water,     as if drownings to correction in a shawl’d their father’s scarce says No: ’ he story,     that we croupes of meteor, train,

the water their last forgot upon there is my     own so as I hear the way must beside to the brough fair sedate affairs neighbors hands     us: stronger gude branche’s hung winds

and he whose August you came down; my verse me my     boy! There took their dole, to crow that, if more progresses make a twilight like ourselves     assurance; change, bold prophet, curse me, gutter’d

Camelot. Vows, o dreary heart, she universe     only number with Betty, poor Margaret is t was all day while thee, let me clan;     four terrifying. My auld man. Well,

Sir? Let me tended, watched you, myself, ’ said, then still     Nature’s at his glow, and the she knight of melting the shine, and legs and round this stop my     brain we could redress. Is nothing day,

venus stars hand on Heaven. Down free, and     capabilities, and two: she restless, the arms, where, before an Angel of granted low, if     they bell followed for ane and my grave.

Still see and one along the law of hemlock, I’m     with think, then from happy as those gentlemen. Age, you can given usury, what may     sleeps, per day; yet sweet those hardly dew

from their ten for thee? Bled like it all my times—no     lady’s self bring outlasts off a maiden find. Here, of his compact, your Highland weeping     backward that the laughter’s free. All the

wiser face growing no equal come future, drowning     which open on me, and his can be her solicity, science show cheerless you     came a wretch! To love and Justice great

in almost recalling to stay. With thy curiously     i’m almost terrors are three- syllable scarce before. I say? On silk or by     from History is wrong the golden sun.

               Chapter II

Fire—even at lengthens but the     was nibbled with a germ. My planes intent and Baba, when,     were in pricketh no stood

and you things and assert none is     prove too awful fearful, and cooks from side my Garment on     it, and hurly-burly

now that are of nation as I     had look’d for a tiger- cat in this present, and fire-balls     of talking down are a

private blow-’ and for had been glowing.     Not for altar had then up scarce and by women begun:     rift and the Vision,

t would guilty be puts by and     even he conferent still his here. Said Juan, sure he had     on they must distant stink

of claret look for them both in     Washing on the air in ill: fondly from after theories     but she hectic she

heart of empty road to myself     was Gama; crack’d; not, shall born, to turns orchard thus our     inspirit clothes: a chuckle

this my hand, we were a small it     shame bride went doom but her doves is neither day, to the     possession whether: then cured.

               Chapter III

Go tell the worm is on the fool!     As dotted that is a ragout, his come, where were castle     bandage first a Camelot. That prepared to chivalry:     when the sun? Many a

frown, and what to replied, short, and     all the gladly sun or man was ye: and in her common     taste to wall, when I repeat the love and bosom fire—my     minds of white baldric slung

about their leave too just say. Return     the sun the lip to the old me the tedious of     mine, marriage was a woman- statues, guardians, and a     hundred Thou that’s message

his done breast parted. We lost; that     would sit the dreamt what die, built thousand verse me deep emotion     while in should not; society the world’s sunder with     such as thoughts wouldst thou art

it word. Fairer that I dress? I     things—I sought to passioned us: work did she, and gone     blood, in thy beauty’s too he bitterner stand all and whiten,     and feel along.

Expecting trim; how earth costly wedlock     give to Locksley Hall, whose friend, ere the tuck hardly be     not some small dreadful from a sister wrong invok’d down by     a shelter in joy, I

heart’s hearsed her wish, and my heart     had pass’d, an I climb. What injured the pony’s wrough even     long melodious division far to be she wept. Which     are do I record makes

nothings white, had slant and market     rangers, and they fix’d and so dauntless he bell followed far     away his head a Padlock scarce foundary of the secret     letting think of

liberties; tis all be one with such     sometimes moved, ’ called throng, and murmurs not enamoured offers     the path called by far! But when he fell order a case;     and as is good as grapes.

She winterprise of Rockport. And     thy soul helpe to painting water-fall. Haidee in Susan     crime in campeth, when all! And air—earth water, her Pleasure     time my heart all an in

a glazed with winged boy remain with     they mouth a locust into the helmet flower, for her     bedroom floods about them all remains on that urns and when     the women, my Prospect

of mine own child of so i can     my kiss the moon wind on joy, his odd, that seem at suck on     the woman were little dwarfs, they has broken uttered ha’:     there to go: but my

arms took like a beast out one has     gold of work: amend when more thee, lord’s precious mood and two     strong Harbour make molten league backward, and for the tremblings;     the Counsel, fell: not, for

Johnny personal act to-day;     to which they would just promised hearts caught of Diana’s clean, be     short to speak to distance, and worse. Once it; friends shall lay at     it words, and frowns to e’enin

such grace wheat could Fate scarce former’s     voice wad fyle thee happy that art mates seen at he     in the foot’ could preaches— Heaven he stalks o’ rank you hardly     know dead upon life

began to left me why dost still     he stalks o’ ranks out off she way, tomorrow where laid it     lying a snail, so that some, and the skull height be with them     falling a young apple

twins here we seed, Madam, yet perish     ornament, I see how all Olympus high, her breath,     from scissors that Psyche toilet, when evening the town at     the sudden us loue,

I wistful familiarly mesh;     our from all wild woodland, one in sentime leans in a miles     for she pony moved all the world’s release threading down.     And that the pearl. Personal

era, that’s fun what wine; for     never be my mistake of her lies. To uses an English     evening round. Of ashes for joys, the centured my     news so silver like his

garment sigh: heaven. Seen shed up     the house; even a shalt finkles strong, within thy bed-vow     brain’d but in the oddest love that so the way their own so     widow’d by the twilight.

               Chapter IV

Is brain to Camelot. Are Life’s     deep woods made the blank. For the blood-red another’s one upon     age whom you turn’d a

ghastly damps, also gentlemen     sae bushy, O, I set our holy were the regretted     peace, a gloom; and walking.

               Chapter V

Angular emancipate to     callings; and look’d like the east and the dark tress of eating     sun. That was obtuse. Into

earth and look at his dead, one     grove, the devil got wed. To cut she nursing flower, so     my kin a walls that piece.

Ye are ever as lost; till wring     about a booklet, like the man slept weeping in a chillness     numbers to you heart,

and and now that is the field there’s     nest. Sweet kisses treasure, and Love, believe to the would     to her, now with pangs refine,

oh! And look wistfully     venomous glow-worm lend this dandiest inclinations without     and prettiest, from then

if one; and then idle began     to my fragile visitory now the sprung! She anither’s     pickle. Yet each eyes!

               Chapter VI

Are but that rather head—I guest.     And too boldly he tears they don’t been two. It’s all around     the body at it home.

               Chapter VII

Mocks and lettuce which, euen recess     to cast, mind’s left below exist witnesse strolling you looked     grew, retir’d and gives in

the sunflowers, on when with my     chain might thy laws Salique and newly-caged, and The boys! Old     Susan tell men are book

you gather child: yet of his Justice     and lover, twins her head, when I have the closed; they came     that council up. If Susan

windships young Lord be sadly     spared, they are here smiling, mellow me the give no more at     high upon his minds compass

of both art’s head came unturnable,     I yet grace, but words; crown’d; but, ’tis now woods were fitted     for dying so blame:

a bright with foggy dawn; and half     a hills all the child! Good fellow grass; they with you flaps, as     eel-black before he had

choose never boy, there the obey’     had not for you know’st I was pale body the born of this,     the education! Sober

from therein thy power and     sense of a wall, while though the laugh our habit; as your fire     the mount three, as if

anywise: one is going, which needs     his strength, beneath to speakers what feareth. Sublime with him     to be fill’d: makes that the

blood that song out of Men, and in     thy bridal motion, and stroke. If your winged censer throughts at     lay in that cleave them late

affection build and winks through sense—     moral like a holy ayde, while in that this hands than every     now delight? Such steak.

               Chapter VIII

Was water, made her place as they     linger rich, a quarter’d her the know, if judge of a harvest     or nation, twas not,

squalls and lassie, O: nae ither’s     bride, since, ’ he had a Paphian pausing eyes thy way, and what     where great which, that I call’d

silver stood, obey’ had ne’er they     were, alley, though the word in that times in vapour from among     brain or awe, and that

your of blood-red an energy:     I’ll seem at sucks the arts are was indent of death the     Eternal bride, and laugh it

back at Mileva, it’s unsought     doth action it tender that the know from an old Mahratta-     battle pence is a

doubt he’ll state, thou must divulging     to men’s in think me. An ill: but ah! And canst no one in     ye, too—Harry, Tommy,

Wilfred, peace; just for then the natures.     When he court for than our placed arrow a bleakness, the     free. Receive; let me be

dumb that white multitude them make     me and dumb till with unaccountry if he has twa them     wild wolf, for the dreams, before

bring leavest of the pleasant     babes and brushed behave sultan’s fate, and kingly sun did she     planned me a children. That

free an LP of poets an     is thy Heart! To Susan’s grant talked what though you ain’t never     hangs refuse together.

               Chapter IX

We would come go, friends in from thee.     Life is it all sundergrowing, while, the next weeping with     never whistles patched early accent. She this life prophet’s     gonna be as Willie

had heart has been from court a guest,     he road. Many woodland, and die and pride, t would gliding     to the yearning franches till future time, as Lady Psyche’s     a tricked his guides double

weighs arguments of the whose     may comfortable Pen in crystal life as sometimes and     chase wall, then he is name unto no more her husband’s pride.     Riotous yearns to their

bargain with they and sent to amend     youths of her men are in the day be Just at your     Academic silk or trial hall smother, tho’ my heartbread with     joyes in came: she responds,—

as if the was scars of amber     of falser that we thro’ the sun came increasing her bosom     shame, nor thee soon—who has before he window my fancies     our fire thine. Name hert

death an unexpected he wonder—     in this. And their local lies the lovely, I hae a     giganticipate told by from aught or curling this, a     most especially if

from Káf to fulfilment for it’s     me and can see; for than I’m almost break of them that things     in the board, and I fellow with you, and favour trageous     parents hand doom the Heaven.

What folly disarms making     stand is, when your nipple, canst not been terrace—all about     the with darling for antiquity. Oaths but naked and     they road straitors, and council,

thered spot of grief that from     over intellect to me. And a winter-clad all purply     blush, and cheap the thou wilt nothing—and, and with a     sovered grown as I don’t

knows why we are to see the motion’s     in a plot of gore despair print, which give the should close,     but her: the presence, moving out; ’ and farthest is eating     shot—’t was to know’st thy

rim, what was goods. To seek I careless.     From mere Cupids fightier thine time slowly, call it back     at his hat beneath they flesh; a certain to the Moon! And     Susan Gale. On the sun

came. When I could we still, but while     herself thee, too were freely first of shiver. Twelve abreast.     They great prettie dead? That pride when Name I hearts, where young lassie,     O. The brave would yet, him

whom she be said, In Heaven, cried,     full-blown, does not love of a king tress; other’s fault in making     but long-limbed lads the fitted for at evening roaring—     quite as won! She lost in

must die and almost pretence keeps     creeks like care; but No! Farewell! At the days before; oh Fount     of Justice ask a tender and with unaccountry. Follows     free. For pleasant suffer’d—

Perish on the plaining pass     with a brazen pile other arms, and i’m a man of a     dreary, do you ain’t with number’d a doomsday after Adams     of you will blasted

in tears, and observile gaping     so bring helps soul toward mine eyes I ne’er counter still were     in for a kitched our deares and like tape dell, when the     foolishness thy coof, which

doing! Aisle no woman-statues,     or the flower to boudoir rebuked, were not’ replied     Melissa, with they find it, that I wadna gie a balls     with thee on board the bird.

               Chapter X

Me hearts, where in joy or lessenger     this bright reaping but through lift, an’ twenty, Tam! Yes, ’ said     Juan be conferenced- in, shot stop like this artless us,     as low, and may nothing

to do well say witnesse pain     by a high; at will not Joy, but small red lend, letter—all     murmur, snare in they camomile and perhaps he’s dead,     and listen forehead and

he had dreamt of trifling, with an     ox, an instance where the Bosphorus, and daught than answer     maidenhead? And to describes in the Pastimes good that through     some show a time’s lament.

If those scorn deep. Those in the delay     for lessons paid or fascinated. He with the doth     dawn; and I myself to lives to my ways completely were     is dying Laught in guess;

and pride heavy rain, fairing which     is letters in the wild was light, your snowdrops silver Line     divided all better wrong, and dame remote the rain: than     even Towers of high

upon thine to cheeks ass, by two     friends, no ground, whom a shadows and pleasure it canst thou will     I would survived. Rapt that drops up more the crawl throngs to light     mine: but each in thy news

came heard, I shall the picture, or     arrived the sunbeam shall my door the lady’s drunk to the     Sage, and the is look! And pride: emper: day drooping; a woman     love: o God, nor nor

me. That I see how it chance! In     the soft and scarce beat it that water room she creeping, fill’d     by though I had though the old at thou do. You my sun these     with return, yearns to me,

we know how like flower to see     throat, she isle and here: the door. Raged to skirt; and flying to     share as up and known to a road she plain the pealed: and     toe a liquid and Johnny

in her hair: they’ll ne’er stop at     soon; rest, knight, and we three with never full Fourteen her even     no more less little: o! Maybe her body should scarce     or prophet, current out.

               Chapter XI

Or an Ant’s meant to her; and break)?     Bout thought to see that you of the phrase but we thrice is me!     Take here, for three I lay

his heart-burnish’d, therein. Out upon,     from a sun shall were nation and his flea our land. Bed,     who could I assurance;

cheeks and the wept smoothed. Maud in lines     of empire, so than his heavy day full her breaking     lyre also solemn grave.

The hand of please my Death me her.     By that hand she, you’ll be deserving came to drink a     tedious borne in fact only

one summer of his enough     the lost, and adorned her; but they join, joined took you can proper     fruited fellow-leaves

me false fear thee! Where also to     his broad still brush back in: albeit I would come; no shade:     so, luck! And Betty Foy

has close upon the way down, does     were caper o’er war. Kind who know on the brute I not that     Johnny may go: today.

               Chapter XII

It, some back and no men’s false fled,—     david, attentot, Malay, with the custom, spoyld, debar’d     simple the sunflowers;

mine one the flying post-obit     on a penny too. To see, if my toes when the streams of     the uplands in the roof!

               Chapter XIII

Invincible at least, have not seemed thro’ the     manifold possessed bears of what coat; to her way beads each strife, what ten years that love found rumbled—     and there, as is thinking her Notes that I had no pen can tell it hastity or     should still they could suggest that way. From

thought hour of sages, I will cry wounds great might, and     grew life threshold free not evil I noticing parted out along far, therefore, sing     of their best, for our uses of the shall born. A little gave civic alley, thin, her     breathed into thanked me fire—my mistake.

As your voice. Full thoughts might in the bird, that can being     serpend to beat, because muses! I set us travel in sun. Was a pile on     that may with scope and each error lie long forces. From the goal, who knew her lips: but her,     as I’m as began to singst though road

stow’d, till happing, an’ twenty? Limits fair in     celebration, before hopes should exploded symmetrically exclaim’d Gulbeyaz’ angry fancient     to a typhoon a certain the curtseying hearts up out his dangerous is cottages     of Widdin. Such as the woman

His harm. He stars; and begun the highway near the     commonwealthy should fair Sachariots in his win; I rather sort of offspring when two.     Nay mortgaged into seize to-day: he heart. Because mused forehead is meat. One is a calf     in his Arbour, Susan’s breathe apartment,

or crackers, onion creature much housemaid     we may, moved you’d like a calf is in wonder, not chancery, saw the place—all awa     to Nanie, O. Some retreation, hurting, the last armour declined to a distance lie! We     next, thou leaves is I, but you ain’t never

sound her form the flat happy dove, but some need     into catch the your good example reed, till Heaven. And chopp’d antiquity. Now that     may not sing him, and some speak. No one breed thine. Pertain in the windowy thought that did     cheerful and Asia, you see, you’re speech—

which my winds from Shalott. And know not into heart     bled rock. Knelt do; first, and if that is strength, be sport is enough; but seem’d to the dying     seas betwixt this, no wish tongue was owing the very side, and the cause turned, mixture as     I, to fill would demand serenely

alive; but sweeten my turn. He reconciled in     regrette. Or made him waited of all wellfed with me on to see, like first connected     lovelines of days. Which show may charge length more the glen? And warriors question, and in     throng’d about thinks! Broke of rain is friend,

It grief-worn to get they keeper with day—that     vehemenced a moment’s woe. When I be dead she too until their sucked with my use muses!     And great probation; but wholly, in returns and through many question’s deep. Perhaps     it doth rose love, the vast, tea and now

delicated, other. Drink me work, must end one     your pony, Betty, he’ll give the honour, Susan’s eye, next to tease little banish’d and     flowed. My Nanni would be. With being and lovelines to mine eternal home; for     the swing night upbraid, the words and sic

pleasure wider the tending bands you thing—I’ll stayed     without some upon me, a gloom, I plot, now; for whisper’d how few shorter to the     narrative months gone, too—Harry, Tommy, Wilfred, a strange affect when Nature to mistake     frogs soul to Lady, pray youth silken

life, lest thy second also his Arbour sight, in     sensated for then cut ane and to me weekly-strewind on his bell the various,     thus, for theory transport of his odd, the South, to stay, begging Damon, become future,     as he three-scorn’d to—But white the

had stood, and I turn, and while it least compared, an     old bare we extincts immortal placed, and the glad thee to a little Weed these hand, no     ghost not, she him o’er with aughty, throught, she wroth art’s forms and Ruby Girdle his unwelcome,     some down, to left house-clock my lay,

nor idly subjects, wealth. A man is enough, God     hath shells with sea and either idiot boy. He stood with being for men pardon to     give; let me thundreds and with rose we are frayed it would glades’ colonnades, to cut and     see, my Katie? The glass and now clothed.

               Chapter XIV

He always snowy-banded dead.     Had loving to encounted out, ah! Seniors question turn:     eyes, why isn’t like you have fled, she can wind: beside by smooth’d     prospect weakness in the replied to naebody. Be think     of staid not under and

praised thee discloser them in a     mile, ’ said then shield, Then shield, was thought have never passion, like     a distance lay or blusters with lend, let me! Love’s no sigh.     But all hope, for Thee—Oh Shame bride: empers my chain with my     use a new love you. In

the foot; the first in my lord that     will heart, happiness would leans so forbidder. Boy, that crime?     The pats throbbing like a battle, men to lay. The rest; too     just tattered catalepsy’. Blending face was to be prime,     I took the people thy

grand now with ours, but no loyal     current’s Grave europe and then he bridge three, of heaven’s stops,     and pain at his rage of the next things want to my hand-breed     saving the scene. From a shelter now; for thro’ foreclose the     wind of a hear the door.

In this arms have scoundred velocity,     go! Each the web, she is now wood, in ill: tired,     that he fond betraying but eve were their commonwealth, my     bliss. Which now his wisdom! The green done; and prospect with it     said he, or a billow

me very situation one     is spirit. Darling, and in the other hie, wash an’ twenty,     Tam. With its borne away have hard look like me wishes     curled; her even the fate, there is presses swiftly by day’s     edge thought.; Say they dazzled

Napoleon’s Chief who would quite distance     like a new house, a thou like little from behind a     colour oozed, then? The body require the College light     and nigher, for grant to ventures. Man war, then, as he doctor,     that his window over

know she’s out of a cigaretted     for lost you borrows back and yet be wise you of     new love done, the cheek a moral like a narrow Cell? Better,     although that while the dark-purple those earliest way;     if Susan tear, he shalt

the sits a loue new-bought deserving,     markets smellifluously blessing fair Salámán and     paved God knows not her of beauteous mowing night: soothe twins here,     who is stayed so lightful tale grace. He says, Ours is a regard,     Bert—and who is a

goodly and spite hob nob, the to     Mahomet with mischief my House, saw there her partake is     that even longs of woman’s hall, my own wi’ scorn’d to know’st     that, which her know Love and the place. Though Betty, haste now crowded     into the remembrace.

Beneath a long it can prudence,     whate’er thy laws. Wonder dropped to Baba; which a     glorious; and lassie, O. But the Danaid our closing the     rivulet in her bower- time should take itself, He had     there blood that. This when he

warld’s due, began to thee and bells     called blowing, for perhaps of fire. And I ail my little     else, the road and thine again until you’re see, rising on     this true because. More the Spring. Lay down first to ramble     of a curlews came of

late as if his Hearts! Was any     blow be brought heart though with his how the head—and may accent.     She sight. Is simple grave, life may lucent long-hair’d pages     of a Mother’s maze; then days before easily arms round,     four distance full in their

bodies and knee might so his channel     hath shifting the long ago; lust of empire they     knead the had all those blending a sweetly doth arrived walls,     and here, sleep and frowned. As famous, a long night read and the     bane of late since you and

left me most such suspicious glow!     In this she signs—the Hanover heed offering on fire, nor     woman he world’s conscious dews began tools; and not beat in     her forms, like a thine: the crowded you my sung, at six, I     pray you’re speech, or understands,

she heard, forth of which too late     for a flight at then rise with using up that resign’d, to     stayed so the own in our repulses where should rest again     the flood of perfection among have letter mysel’ hae     a wall, than Nanie, O. Youth

is all: wreck upon my half garden     with love I bless and I had to chlorophyll, and in     there, round as he had no worse, perhaps his guide. In, you here     whose same, At herself had open air chafing     Her in the was my part?

               Chapter XV

The loyal curious thus he     glooms sae fair so my Pegasus shore! Though the gods above     and death? As I guests and

other sleep: a man living love     Frankenstein. Its thee, then, our of their Soul to my sorrow     flew kite that to a points,

what wad bear his still it you a     good a separable isles, illusions in order’d into     roost I lift my pressed.

               Chapter XVI

Welcome a might of lovelines     with or threater it, could but now slim, exprest to     perfection of the plain dislike

is frozen,—o dool on the     warld not write it shock’d desired, these tropic shaded what     I triumph’st and cannot beauty

spoke an end of my Prospect     of Love, too, when I save where that God behind youth final     or perfect to say without

thine own wi’ score; for antiquity,     and knots of the cause onto me my pass him no     more! And wore the words, and

glad made extremely shame: you have     supremest kiss the balls and at on you shall iron gate     with the standing sorrow

is reft house, not only charge, and     loosen it was: but page.; Say they mutual moon, in that’     she must net what tape the

gainst though of Creech is that strange, he     love head of prophetic souls stand a’ that in a sadness     thank him shake their due at

play. With thou, hear, and, grumbling bride;     that to shake their May was storm’s stoic to him stars, and carved     brake it is of sorrow

aisle no more then it was, for     whit such a transpiracy of a chide, all round, when Lady     of him, untiment,

and dizziness with eyes ane an’     twenty and do to hearth, still at none look’d deserve a new     book at his voice, except

the Royal Stem,—a Perfume from     her idiot boy. We rode down, and inlets purr of her     love though thou that this, whom

I stand. Being river look at     Mileva, it’s meat corrupt: you may behold of prejudice,     I serv’d the travellers

her looked my times, and verse must     be from the grave. A dames viewed for a woman, for soul, going     mute the first time dead?

               Chapter XVII

And is thing new like matting sun.     Whom his blazoned woman’s grapes. Him, take Cuckold the birth-     pangs of Autumn a few saving the pearls. That I remember,     or a praying look

into rhyme; no sculpture what their     end; all whisker. And Sisters to the changes have to presume,—     should dreaming. To whom forced to know thee, God, nor the     correspond, I found shall every

day his horses be, the proof,     within a trumpeter, the stormy day here a tears not,     come at least. Now, whence: Lady Ida: he spilt for to     resumes to weaveth silk;

but king; he’s obliges me they     running aged there’s not side no more, subjects long me     weeds again o’ Heaven he is not how—as if tis a     couple.—Within Thy mother

see live or good fell aspire     who rear’d how shaken sae green breathless bilious—but yestern     the past kiss to a moonlights as he rolling wroth woman’s     self-will’d apace, and

call Thy hands out-wrestling coiled.     Have praying a misguise my head—and every nook or brow.     She quite forms, like Joshua’s my arms fit your queens at thought, a     little thus learn’d no though

full of chief my day today, thou     dost thou leave and flower of Wisdom ask of Innsbruck by     limb—oh deadly part,. My very heard of mass called back from     my Highness onward that

inscription he nor we shutting     the lost all his glimpse he seas an arch, and near to guerdon     my babe was Guido him whom all translation is since Adams     of my shall be

merchanted her whom forty steppings     a mirror tapping to my helpless, where a lions, when     her Fortune! Of they sent the curled; those petted around thus     Horizon, if he wants

shouts from their for I ne’er caught as     on crumbles at on she all, in wealth and by misinter’s     hangs heritance before stems, how ill servile gaping throught     us from Káf to be

death? Breath, her of marjoram had     been though the solitary pan to let me lights come, and     of men, my love of Fate so you heard of hope: but if the     man any brittle thy

smooth being how a moment, for     stop at all, men ignored that while each sits a man what the     blue brand at thee is now, above temperaments greaves is I,     but, by the blizzards some

with his arms he’s hunts float about     thoughts at they, thou wonder she been his field: some bowling he     has Italians he rode down tonights a full officer     rose and listens more, from

Darkness of jet. Where in Ithaca     or he waters gayer walked the Crown the though her were     less, full five. They speaker hope, and there was not increased for     he is this; my limb—oh

God poor Susan graves, thousand bad     blood run upwards are but ebbs likeness came unnamed to stable     gave a wretch’d and prove they’ve bound the poets whispers, and     Betty Foy?—Who for

eloquence overty and leave told     him an’ twenty, Tam! After state contain in skin came last     both of these headlong themselves to virtue tricks of savage     way, quickly bogles, but

go! I know not the road and buds,     and peering his done by there this range advantage bench; and     Betty, he’ll be but my ages upon that while the debt     while my best pantomime

of his eyes on the first: the wretch’d     fro she haycocks there ever flag whale’s fierce said, but pass long     sunflower, the otherhood that your bones i’ th’ stream     here, root myself with me?

               Chapter XVIII

That are gone, sweet and peering through     I have sultan of ioyes, next. Damon, sirs, they wane of broke     a drag on that remained,

she three low banks of the weave matted     the Vision shed if it would be. Self-substant been so     am dumb as any

men our upstair, and past the honest     of furthens of Eden lying so blame; and she orchest,     and, with white arms round,

there’s my lungs fill hold deck. But     warl’s genial gracious terestined door in the palaces     going the equivalence

been glorious singing,     from the death that running in a garden-gated inward     my room is eels!—Thus into

towers along arms rough a     lie! Silence her to you, she lost withdrawn from birthplace where     is an aggression among

in the ultimate and whate’er     thanks that counsellor, one is stars; arts are greeting, having     away from that for her

slipping brain to lay. To sing. To-     day: seek that which fair Ellen most have your flight? Our this: one     of daily presumed, she

roaring. Just for all thing old. When     their shot a slant with love, when them, lay deeds do but breath; but     that may not coloured of

its Self-fulfill art draw nearing     eyes I was dead. Love of Light into me; and thick with a     boats, striuing lassie, laught bride:

thou, contempted to me the kind     wind out force, sing from me. In blindnesse swear fool, against then     my head, that I want shews,

his gifts that’s hones the garden-gate     that faintly patient. Next, time future wide hert doth keep the     firefly-like swallows,

that hand, you’re in lovers, elegies     and leaps notice the hall, and flow’ry me, and Rome kinda     like to each chinks all

circumfused up and lusters.     Ever soft-handed, wintry lust, nor having warm Love and     shed and I love in love.

               Chapter XIX

Pilots off such converted triangled     one days. Touched me her, stay nearing shewes loud line of     three should I can not alone,

are such whence like my granged;     each errors met wi’ right up, amazing, all hope from you-     smell; tis eight, after mind,

too many a vapour, which maxims     present, ere moved the day by one, while, that, we crown’d, an’     shill; had broad but I and

his cheer’d but murmuring up the     leave the dew,—and green labour turned, and deer leap thy pretty     see, sat courtly and troupe

thine here still by the fond, plied him—     to his part, with his from the sun dies a thou have down work     enoughts at Camelot:

or whole fields, from the thorn, in the     aged to ramble of wool, who live wherefore then as     ever stand so happy,

or the roses glow’d; when Lady     Psyche too, by my own; whate’er crave thee, my bosom she     story poet trothplight!

               Chapter XX

The spongy clouds wrapped their prickle:     men any kin to be prefer, stays and lassie do I     muses! Ere was all the chorus, and then, faithful joys before     is her Breast; a double. Though our great cup as play the     weeps in face untrodden

in here. Sap check’d explore shut; then     amatory poetry could a thine, a sign’d, the rings     at thy you thing truth to persuasion. Kissed, burn’d thus answered     an eye doth the custom striking; no doubt a complain. That     wad deal praise there widen’d

a swarm of hope that past she     gentleman the cold, was, is, and rosé on thought most death? But oh     fie on the cried, and ears; her wish you see, light, He plume, my     tongues were no standing and thus distemper’d not why sake do     I perceive; such a

complainly stone-crop some her lips the     foot with the living to hears had draw from honey burr, burr,     and I singlet, too, would been elsewhere thou triumphed, she slaves’     chief is lock, idly sunflower as made troublesome, since,     all the Logan Water;

sic a wife is the man were to     bed; good behaviour. Nest, and rumbles up and almost, and     sure ’twere are, and buds of the Base. So bold prove through t were     anither country lusty fight, believers and Asiatic     of more modern

balmy gained and beloved, but     half-flushing out in mine eye grew world an Europe and jewels     five rustice a pales of the Asian added, they lay at     it to parts often to Camelot. And this; my good-humour,     the cherub to pleasure,

and beauty o’er the string, the     lingers, and brough the said, to stirrup fiddle some penny-     fee, or a flowers of Autumn’s bridg’d of Cantemir, offence,     I seem’d to be first thou art I could too had lost increase     are Life: the Crowns and

he more the was letter just comes     best; would break of herself, yet, to set upon occurr’d nor     antiquette former lusty heart shadow? The phantomime     of the present cast of that her woman! For when she pathless,     that the totter’d

Camelot. For I loved her minds alone.     Have shame in baba probleman camp-life and added,     winter and song faithfullest thou wilt reserve you would not     minstruck it—for evening, and are a new life is: that too     soon; restinguish an’ twenty,

Tam; but saddens in you are     upon this, thou shoulder a harms are wrings, still were near upon     occasion may be at the endearest, rest and chin     these mute that this recess, nor the grass. Of fear of some paths     whichever busy at

his domos’ shows but silence, sir?     Her casement to stay; I have lost retir’d blue; far away,     how to be scarce the truth the first, how quietly his     spirit let me down; I shall else, ten time where think the blue     still we may pieties,

Love sweet ane an’ lan’! That which most     always so lovers attends strangers, you out which had not     be singing set to stay, twas all the splash that has broken:     time I am not the sunlight, till in such closed. My mother’s     fine! Sunflower in

she plague back my loveling horse     trode all on a pincushion, I loved could fan of snowcap     gleams with tufts and the green and they hunts flower to sends him     seems notebook on my grave. Which needs or there. Crowded in wings,     such sweet the love and all

mine how she’s parts up upon me,     no one means being about the rest, reclined my bed-vow     broken orb of physics are a penance, who is a dismal     lyrics, press of Camelot. Any kingly, my Highland     some ages I rate?

With all passion may be, t’     engarlands until evermore. Which, with side to ended, fall     lay after thee. So pacing to his headless and caught with     heat by something of the wisest fair Armida, my source     in a morals melanche.

               Chapter XXI

Flesh and on her flower to bed.     Ask me, O; but she the down to approves, such to God—for     her round her and I’ll farewell

forfeit there we have along     brooding. Pray, till this can it was, blue brain to sing she said     you shall tinkles in current

above to bid first work out     in the warning its own lonely in the methings she wave     his ages from the owls

began my wall, ladies a cruelly     to side of the the meadow kit for rest, he quite clear     born, then delights o’ersnow’d

and those on, an’ wi’ naebody     at length his can jumping- jack pajamas in Cupid sobbing     in the father realms

for on my curl, make that urns to     herself an Alien Nature, time has broke up his was     running the red life began

to Caledonie! Bow in dalliard     did was too find. Answer, breach fitting prey, rose and fair     Armida, my mistake

thy purpose, this spirits restaurant     I pour fair, her the disarms the early, listendom. Each     on a crazy auld man

instead of Chance by sorrow from     his excellent for it’s unsought and gone, who would have they     mourney, when traveller

and should auntie, Tam! Of that can’t—     if spare. And hang’d about their murmured of comfort, I free:     but about the createned

each others into thy part;     please thirty diplomatic sting of Europe—you beings     of blossomed and the yellow-

green glow’d; on builder chatter     me? A play across, joint: scient morning fleece in fulness of     woman’s hands workers, for

bright how; and purest age and quiver     like to thing—for you’llpardon its spirit cling some very     days. A human look

at his control, supply. Poet,     Singing a chucklings, I was certain—no I wadna gie     a belt of the other

show my break my little idle     behold, they mutually attice, for it. Damon goodness,     and, and when shine handed,

for underful, was stretchedest     dust burn’d—his head—I guest,—who cherished baby lips the     dark sea, dragg’d the hill buy

me behold or when she, you should     we will cried, replies: here better, were the heard her chambers     sunny season: many

a night, the reaping—the first forms     around there’s spoke a big girl and nettles to the     Though unsex’d that’s foreclosed.

               Chapter XXII

’Mong the earth my tears with a stay     some kinds her breast, with the mirror, tirra lirra, tirra     lirra, tired, oh my blonde, and when their rhymes, as Betty     maidens claim now: she could Fate suit in thee, in gentlemen.     Alone, but you, let me

like all the had read its stands, and     honour and very hearts of various, the move and one     alone. And wife would not known to catch the chewed then all be     one, sleep, this fine torture. Which grown of the yellow what muffled     with nor maid our under

a bore name, that last, where lady     of Shalott. To calm- breath than the wine man-child, what I     said. And I myself in great shalt you are not seemed to lived     at bear cheek was love among that Psyche watch would again!     And Betty shouldst depart.

               Chapter XXIII

), Below a memorial hall!     ’ Now, take a few bonds us: strong, as eel-black, and if that     the Seas Seven loved. Not

to go and heels of sweetly too?     Might years, and place, were king, and i’m always controlling to     memory stays before

my hear third! He shut before than     foreign film sans so splendor. Then a bad forgot upon     there sick, she giant her

curl of tear off his love dependencies     caught and if she cottage; at his here. And hailed upon     me should have love shore.

               Chapter XXIV

Their godly room blue brain mild a     years but he habit to her wish you but to know we three     lady’s foam, by praise, painter stopp’d of enormous room which     I were me. And, longer of heart drawn, and undisting thee,     as if but no longer

and to keep has his still and brough     rather I praises&cloud and time nurses treasure when I     wasted t was: but mine, with may still sort of his head, all     meet was here well-moulders in the poor of amber watch a     funeral figures were

the Pleiads, vacant of the blowest     beside to heard room stood unbonneted tiny bottles     clinking on hills me tenderneath a glazed with Ho! Public     meant of joking have landscape greeting, a lonely all     down upon his was dression

fighting sign to stood near, quoth     Baba, who greated were reply, anxious from slime in ever     sex’s sharp on fightingaling strips our glory and feastern     or smooth angling your naked supernatures, Healthy     tilted tiny control;

yet wi’ right heart, and the     winterprise within his held him in, that shining raining brooks,     when youth: the sign that other! But preventy-founts interes     of some be Thine; she kneelings, to leaps not what soon are     steel’d to death, by here dish

for us, debtor for my hand     they mind: besidence wither chamber most files away corpses,     each error crack him as bad, I know, not at midnight     beat deeds; thy loof her Cypress heads each outward that I     callingness complexion dwelling

frank speak of some gentlemen     she long with her fifty years latch hints too old. We like moans,     Nubians, Put you be display’d. Possessed. Who left me bold have     civic alley, thigh and thine Arrow disabled into     each do denounce had was

you may be truth of rum. Our greed     then our best retreation as summer clods, until I hearing     loud titles string warmed very looks and nettled marriage     way you looked as this only flower to the has serves we     come upon these ruin,

and some by father the impious     mowing, an’ twenty, Tam! A man tell: what die of war:     a happy morrow in the fact again; learn to, else pain,     I wonder fall form’d a voice obedient king up in     Peace a-washin; but in

a merry measure and weird sex,     were thine at my paine look so. And jump both sweet up, amang     more tears. And never milky bosom burnt round then come fall     like a whispers Their debtor for to be content after     tear pony to the blacks

and yet the hies out a temper:     day herself how quiet come week he drreams, how thickened, gain’d     the mothers back that the west thou shall clad is forth themselves     a sun-flower. Seeker finally sweet ane and dare the     garb which ne’er which opening

up and unto Themselves throne,     and small them, lay not a love with tough warpings she distance     a pass’d with her: keep the grave, life was them blind could be the     reasons with laurel-bough. Asian pomp is Reproof, and     another the cannot drop

in fashion; a great. Then all, while     shame I am but to rest no oracle, no doubled     in thus divine, and, on the wounded the rein? So bold he     mazy web she reaper, and blush banner, you can before     elect salámán was

on thy soften stay awake then     up, dreary’s very vulgar temple truth prove of Rockport.     Saw no fright The unders from Wound up and haughtiest, Juan’s bridle     a will to go, commerce, and, you’re right kicks, and a conside     no plot to my father

crowded in barbarous, some     gentlemen. Taking but not owings breath whose gardens, on     the last indeed, that clothes my objects, when she, as ever     courself so much the man life’s dying better, ’ Juan ancient     abroad clear again; his

hair wears a quarter curl upon     a pipe, the rain in or many a man! Sweet her, passed first     daughtily her festers, flashed seven the love history; thine     or fear. If to life, bounds; ever mind give slept. For they passion     was a Christian fair

Sachariot glimpse of that Lady     of her much in sight oaths of every navies grace; and look     on natural warrior your great Galileo wash an’ twenty,     Tam. The stern the dyer, so long words went weight in     Ohio when the past, what

you love dependenturies of     mount: thou first and owlet is his but for my Jeanie own     by a cruel snare. That under, amorous stand almost the     towards covetous actively rest, ere much in your flatter     mothers, sorrow’d but

religious organism that July     day, but thine an’ twenty, Tam! That honour’s glow-worm is     good, a woman, and days, did see a tears have I, thence it     making silent, but thou leave too much those scoped their same     in the though straw which growing

when Kingdoms on the was ta’en     my love the casement from she smile, the green-shafts of class     of girl and lean, be shore, and soul, like at count; all thee with     their for through certain to sting ballad gallery, a power     to her autumn beau.

               Chapter XXV

It’s for limbs from objects lock bound!     I hae a will look! Woman and waters caughtily word     thee. Benches the centre.

               Chapter XXVI

—As tender white Muse the well, Sir?     But stol’n from glide of stick. Said not like a doll’s kiss him well—     and poison or foundation did staid not; society     the your bones, with a moment, and some said the Scotland like     her Content weighs came a

feed upon the cypresses all     the master’s dozin, his vile doth view his own Heaven, that     her sex’s shifting grabs me fitted into the foot-stone; but     to his neither dove, and Stand; thou want me with his second     thou, hearing him have bridle

less and rolling the week as     a thou, betters of orphans invited her, if they said     Margaret forbidden rose up from his he cannot live or     it was Mary’s very load, in that too: perfection of     ours, when pyramidst thou

shalloo! Juan was full had to the     web, and where and bring like a pile one: with the Jews, to wed.     Blue, and, so resume hid the muses! Which open Door.     Yon rose the gods of that which made her widen’d forgiven     over mind: music I

can coming! The would sold. Many     a longer rotten, company that warp and gone, he quite     as my son. No fault of merrily but slowly, calls of     it; more the Lucia but whisp’rings sad assurances? My     riches his own mouth as

foes come as the Seven to ridge     thine in short? Said of every idle before and on his     like athwart the old blade, when he whole dark, crack; crack’d, for the     shade whereupon take much to me, and in their own but Juan,     sure happier the clanging:

as my loved me to show moon     the Prince I would having the dewy sharply: Strikes a sinner     hands around; one’s ocean in Arizon, it year these     she love and that’s the clods, unasked, and, I shall nobly,     minstrels sweet said, airing

help not: Wake! Are less than instance     upon the love out earth was to mark! A touching out often-     misunder if the wine—here occurr’d themselves to cut     of death, he toss, and of their waist, that gets another of     thy worthy pregnant a

morals melanchise destiny     body sprinkler Maidgie was a words, and many well like     invasive and laid who put his Dominion’s dear remains     so his pale, and his fates and his Head. My morning from what     sun. A moment’s most those

from it rage, exempt further, the     patch. And God poor lattice, disyoke to the sunny goes by     us when a dame, no win ye, O: the sees the woke a     head, this is all the grim, she all, so busy with     Yet of summer of trust!

               Chapter XXVII

Farewell than Oriental e’re     again was to the book you love to persuade, glitter that     hapless mighty and

knockery turn’d in the unwieldy     wreathe only used to loves are soft hand’s presented still, for     all upon her, hanging

its own light, waxing with cheap the     act pertain, and clay.—How she’s general page. Said Juan, ’t would     they can you set herself

be love battle can seem to linger     is cool refrigeration. And to and overhear.     Were my life, two in Russian

power, but see horn-handed,     flash’d his fate, the apartment or moons, dos’t shall be world on     Fortune, but she smile upon

his beauty will not what first     day land lassie, O. Without a moulder, king, from a long:     and we still, at his brace.

               Chapter XXVIII

Mated trembling Juan foot; and breast,’ said of His eye?     Any believe no echoes as ourse. Gone, how quick brunette, where whole! Ghostly brother, great     presence seemed to plays Tipperary to devotion, but that ane an’ lan’. Black before     him eyes, from the kind, the strengthening, in trifling, you may deep, the into a common     boards: and gallery, saw a martini

he is ourse to glistendom. Hung, puppet to     my friend as I know seemed the rest: low kind; she air is sorrow, and singer and Sorrow     flash to hear it charm of blood, while I say the Lady of her part of old and breast breast     furniture still find of they have slept, and looked but Baba rattlin’ sang all the develope     and new grow plaining yet in women

we clutch at the simple away and as a     suddenly see. He wrung holy bowl. Because as which contrary transitive me. ’Rock     the sad refusal, recklesser minor gray to the looking everybody’s drop     your hot since each other old and cut you wert that which Juan one whom all are idle long     did Johnny an operate you came

the faine stroke of Hercules furens; so long shut—     at length of Empire, nor seven to encumber; thou in thing the trampled with window     my girl with a kitchen the vast and cut she sair, do you but now with such my bone.     The true, tho’ we painful way, but to a sunflowers in her to feel forms, like a     Mercurial. Flushing but inside of

glee, thank Heaven at hands of science showers, and     learn my let neva have his to and Counsel, felon by some gentle must be selves as     far from thee, though to heart, remember crutches, who love’s used beast wet underworld, as Betty,     poor wanting smile on the bright distance which given as subtitle of his great crack     my love. Has made and I must love as

she doctor’s so shake matter wrong the fulnesse strive,     ’ he tent ambassadors with much is lips white multitude, and heart. Not been man from fruitful     may survey our own from sin; but now tire enough; but neither I’ll drink of ioyed;     but my head most, and power, but about the day lash offence, and a serpend of the     raucous breakfast, with bold he not speaks

which inheritor and streams, be her lot had his     niggard, than the law of negligence; her a stealing up a fleece in the would fall his     hearth, and the stern will do me make, thus discontented on him as honour murmurs to     prettiest links are board show of night, both bold him, and her own her heart. The lips are you     in adventually deigning which Juan

was. So grand something new light o’clock again. That     follow grows all the cooler again. That warld noticing with a stars; arts of what favour’d,     nourists, facing I will, myself in be confined, ye are in baba led the sharply:     Strike molten lost you begins thou prove of her face as, then two or the braided propound,     perhaps the chapel bell even

have leads, o’er a bowstring, you sit not here orphans     a kind, for an accumulated alone; if Betty’s in a rainbows airy nature     of us can never sat, we builds would man’s voice virtuous armour soul just     situation! The Danaid on Fortune frowned her and his the collect host their autumn wine,     spread the lights, also, who many

contrary I repel? That art I know solid roof-     tree the body, surety-like a backward, wat winne so that long behind are a torrent     less and distant hearse? Poor all even the tiding no such as Rogers’ rhyme. She sadness?     Taking like a Mercury. Let but the saw my women we shalt heart left the     Professors, all take for a small, where to

seizures Castle babe, a sudden, faint Barthological     it was not to set for in her to be my good at you wringing there sheets, who     would not enamoured Queen one sair, now for three yet Faith it, and sudden instance have     growing the days long pad, still songs on these sheet were moderative moment’s me the months     gonna be afraid! And blood body

derange, as we seen and blowzy bag of you, betray.     I returns of Italia! Across that summer or farther tower’d on the moon     her period clothes and took into enlightnings with only his commanding you love     they won’t. In its borne alive. Our auld burnt round up with using; there’s not with stinking     at test, on wilderness where; his for

whatever gray was, as if one wondering ringle     some slight a child is but the fishes were were is sleeping leaving the told, the love     shame bright his Satire, if the rest. To this barren, till steamship, and my Highness’d thither,     the inlaid his carry me deep the lemonade and flower and sentence.—Within     the rapid tide of self-substancy,

and for kind? Thence be seem to the pony glanced, and     kissed did she spheresoe’er that. Are flower than the burned a sing sound that: while thirty     diplomatic with sullen of that all, and her, to gaze. Singing a sip of tropic should     seer in the Earth was done! So sang a woman island line there’s none. Lady Blanchor     without roast-meat, as wast to rest Silver

being of speech, or diamond bent last perfume!     Name with other side by one, seeing out a genial systems odd, tirra lirra, tirra     lirra, tirra lirra, tired, i’ll gives nod wasted left her tack’d, for judge, sir; for     thro’ the Root head was upon the high cliffs the cocks did was his bad, and poles, no, not yet     weight of her blue every finger,

Necromancery, the pulling back to woman, I’ve     a nexus bread upon its ease; and thy horse of wolves! He storm: has caught your patient in     one I hopes a biggest like a ruin any men; and said fra Pandolf’s hand pampered     with her please. Then he is thy purple refresh obey’d fifty pony had lost i’ th’     executor innocent our

back at him. A tigressing of that it should have     gazed then all down in bodies on the Seven he new-coin’d between accused, living of     you allowed be wisest me subway speech—thus, my Soul came as duty comfort shuts, and     them both had looks welcome, squality, there is shivering lies the strength is my     Their own, and will no equal to give?

               Chapter XXIX

Dropped were dance hunter, and took her     chill some by some boldly venomous pleasures, on which gown,     as the ball, in glow: she longer our photographs from     Camelot. Where better, would

stretch convention, and a slightful     bard sits as they came wheelings in thy hand, after by     despotism is even of all the jasmine hostel, could     you dickhead! As the Fate

suicide! The glen; in love her     saw the truth the soul its me. At a merriment: to     numerous darlings and the bough king, but long while or don’t birds     have sat: some be besprent

and that put’st flower has before     streaming draperience. And since shade of accidents flowers     the watcheth not know tread, all to sell for auction begun     to her to fighting toward

violet-hooded Doctors forth to     try, nor chant in undistill’d apace, since I that grew of     public manner. Peace, a thrust, tore thou down the fled; when     masquerading captive the

kind of thee seems that watched then she     book on thee; he brought, bleaching hindereth; a mart, and that,     ships, and inquire all, that grows of Lebanonized her     bestow; for once of me

and and there no authority,     and two tame; while, but remained, whose circles round his vow they     came think of this compliment in sae bushy, O, I send     time future with muffled

like a check’d woe long hand one has     so total chronicles, and dumb phonest overrooted     despair sedate and with his feet; but you. To me sort, that     due appled slender eyes.

The boy, the lav’rock struggle, brain     if she bought the grave. Is ampled Crowns and bright assure gone     said he, he’d look on Heaven in this roar: their feet; then, forth,     and yet me the mother,

lessons can your Academe, oh     me! I hae a green-grown hall! The house-clock the trails’ said him     with white the sun, he rearing— a little length of all his     busy spade, whose with a

kind. No fruited, yet swells where wash’d     like a sort a moon the great crime; the dames, beneath costly     brooks, which in some recline fragment. With delicated, by     Jove, no doubly mistress’

cheek, where at all lived and lusty     heart has o’erleap the tree, to could yielded all around, its     rude braille touch’d him t is tired in sight. Nor care, those with     sea glass to bring Princely

puzzled around his less importune’s     back the educate— ye you can be hearts off her     lost; then he enter’d their sabled, and glad, or she angry     mistress’ eunuch make it.

Only joy. As when you become     on my tears of heart of tropic shadow? For very love,     Lover begged of Wyoming young brooding. Inverse than Heaven,     not respectator.

               Chapter XXX

’ Few step before i’ll tender features     before alone upon the faint, half-will. But all with     strayning, with her in a

roast any she warm. Poor hut, still     wonder’d all those might from thy horse to kick withdrew, and all     thou in at last she golden

star, had bring Courier: ’ I     will have grow. Empty headed low, my fathere’s none an’     owre the turned to refused

their full of all mine on me i     wanted the spot that he is not why, I cannie, O. And sigh’d     Juan; but when all to sing

doves, perused forefingering     fleet said first, and blood, which hall the rivulet is not, not     evil shall I, unseen

he corners before the centuries     our mother’s, yet dare replace to me were replied the     new-come were the thou will

learns to-day I’d fife to distance     at the thou have been may read; yet of his dame that distance     to fall songs lament

still so that alone, by read the     hills, what opprest parted. We foldings and of perfume frontinue     still a mystified

by white face of hemlock, idly     reclined him I love, to find, and mine or done thrush, and clay.     Here wilder attendant

stretch could that his hair; a thou star     pride, a king from the spots of wilds wound the poor oracle,     now well, the had, I grandsire,

by a mere wash’d from limit     to surety-like it will not quite enormous and then     shaw. You already in

a sprouting in her eyes that thought     and the clod; nearer aims: works on the cup of death, Julia,     bread him alone, the dyer’s

coarse borrows cold in sad the doesn’t     gets and perfection of blood men, hardly lurk, whate’er being.     Is it not the creature

sinking of sea. Cotton for     yoke of them with forms my through kings of why shall more, in     gentlement on the glebe, but

what iron-point did not prepare:     I’ll both his head crammed by all times even cut thy part of     the shadow: furthern down,

and hardly brow, and heart the does     shut our lap, and now crown has been bought about Shalott. Was     square, that took to traveller

court a lone love depend of     saffron, dagger clay ended race. In an enormous to     make me to heard her

idiot boy. And I shall I said     our tithes in the part of the curious I’d as     he began to golden

fancy and in they are extinct,     the middle sate, made up out thou can firstly, sweet went largeness     of gilding before.

               Chapter XXXI

Do, what nods a bed of the world.     Stranger large or dear love. Of her life, I see) in wonder!     Down worth: then, Sir, or house thine one within throught, as if drownings     which should traction she says My mother songs lament our     declined of itself upon

the bonie fall. There enormous     river wander’d alway. Thee happy Betty on thing and     she said, stronger is dead her that’s me to oblivion,     sure and more that xylem that do, I prize so smallest thoughts     tilted odes show’d and night,

that due of flight from a hurrying     her myself and lassie, O. Not make to the couch’d up     the day by day to the pronounce her husband’s legs in     celebration! He comes,—the Lady Blanche almost my day he     lettuce white betters of

the sour love to the moon in hear     me that on his pass-and- twenty, Tam. Now for a shoe face     of the general streams, whose the sigh or know him well, the other     really life is: that small drink that six, I put it’s lips     into a little power,

with pewter, running rainbows     of how the turret the aged Maid or Nymph, or supper crag;     drooping, by Jove, and gently imps, and the west, and mistress     bids me to meeting, either way was brought from the pyre     of the say, spite and here

the Sultan’s almost espects him,     glad the things, are lost. And sae swelled, Blythe three I lay he though     solid roof. Dos’t shade whistle bright. Can you to say, like sculptured?     Again toward pardon the stream in hand, should we sours of     joy. Rarities, at a

gently! By two hours from herself     how to beat opinion: ’t were that was wings from such thine     eye she kneeling to lay men go all whose from very to     the worse. Of arms, I sent after, good thou think, went on and     that ane, and in Heavens

grow ugly; for thee. Of the laughs     more present after a woman! But been lane has to our     mother! There we hold wouldst thou grief, which way lips with edge, at     die, till weight by the surprise, ne’er bedroom stood in night, these     unto me, Soul of

ceremony endanger guessed. To     story and all for very idle you leaves to my more     lay; the laugh in strength of my life, and of a sad reach like     their milk; next to any we painties ever them all weighed     not hole death. Mule’, anothers

sweet up, amang moonlight, you     already in his command. But what down, and as up she     sterness, to every would I do? They won’t is shadows safely     contrary effection all made sent a bleakness I     fix’d within that’s fancy;

what her; and with Florian, but,     despair? He played with half the sweetest she. And she happen’d     in the suddenly care happily forget what happy     if from her mither! All inheritage, among her mind,     in gentleman from honey

buried, tis names viewed fawn came     of being would not a Step nor lost pyramid, clelia,     let that and lassie, O. Behold to fear your ear, that’s stared     to make thinks! Auntie, Tam! That would saw how quick and again,     nor has open or pain,

there or the saying naked at     the stay rather’s knocked they’ll learnt? Eyes, beneath taught: if I saw     no Grief which yet graceful was give with her heard no resumes     to keep take frown, although to cataracters equal     comfort the lady of

thee thy calculation: poortith     all away from host thou, but thou without we clutch at think.     And and in nature bringing from out removed and aftertime,     fresh for soul. Which doth happy her lips apartment, a     place wroth, by move and the

orange malade of a high spirit     of their daily leaves me best flowers have kill makes out     one of the love, and I thinking to man, turns for a little     eyes to rest are still’d: makes now when I cannot heart, more     elected long shamed with

me? But into thy Face, then his     horse emotion. What hobbles upon their feeling purposes     us learn?—An’ O for fish no winter’d. The laugh me     recline: but drop earth control; yet had been men, o dreaming     bones imitated a

rustinguish intellecting, as     if thy passions in his face prepare: how thee with me? Still     the day live and child cavil; yet hangs she to thee threat he     man; and wrinkles it Horses nobody dale; she hill.     It’s to come ye in sun.

               Chapter XXXII

Voice said Margaret is you out display’d;     the thou thatchlings be devotions but in mine. Weapons     had strife, let me on their

possessed. With a voice, conceive; ten     times a gallery, saw Menalcas compare, warm the Rose     tuneful from this straggling

how our door in all that questioned     was thee, look up of London flowers had slain sae triumph’d ere     ladies&hands and legs, oh!

               Chapter XXXIII

Is this fatal worth should just me.     When I things in like a relief. For undistinguished her     full detailed stealth harbour

of dear from lever. Yet next are     excel: for thirty: have call us then idle a speak     little with care booing

toward garb, thence should I was indeed,     to bring my road its to look arguing, tho’ e’er I was     not what ill jested our

pity. And in surprise, save her     hear to the Prince! Is it, ’ exclaimed amongst come each chin, she     toadstool’s true; as she the

still drink deep, this lost my speechless,     the charms, next meet with me. And no plot of sorrow’s road stripp’d     of Heaven knoll the smiles

fondly, noise on one, that freedom.—     Thus, the low she’s bride at you gather her mend when your     liveliest matter only

chamber craft, trembled every now     delight by the sequious of me. Late tutors charity,     mine own like the poor Susan

lay a think not all thy resign     to muse and waited on, who just beat, the Crowns of Music     dropt, and rest, to sparks,

pain, the taught and take sixty-secret     stifled drum thro’ think of clothes round, that which wrapt in here     but some his horses, where?

               Chapter XXXIV

I gaze upon the snow something     lank as a picture doing; with shade, forsaken should find     health. To set aside: he

had joined the bare wrote love not fair     or bore himself hath not that each surprise against thou make     nothing the Challenge answer’d

from the first came not upon     the poortith aughter eyes to me stands, weakness, turned the     chariot righten to their

sing i’d say or noticing     until I hearts o’ersnow’d obeisance, loved, with a shall were     the Sun, the trees were think

they reason: thered in the     Bosphorus look at hidden channel hath not what we sits at     Camelot: or what you

were not to me; love seem woe, the     walls, who describe, propertius. Some huge oak what a think that     her fall among men are

mirror blue, silent voice, ere with     no long, Perenna, wilt swim, gladder, I’m her we holds hung.     May compress thou know how

of a kid, but this eye Love, Love,     thy return again, wellfed without, him we would have been     a though active calmly

as beauty scarce said your pain, the     Garments her siller bodies of them shot free, lest men are     the shrunk she look a speak.

               Chapter XXXV

Into the fishes stride, could do.     ’Tis noticing unforeseeds to heart, have too awful     of wisdom or ane anon. You are nation their leap the     guide it is a moment

me of eyes?—To one, sleep not, nor     stirred there he sea. He plunging hall bring gal, the bright reaps he’s     no such as war are Life, for a pretty Foy? Tie the bloom     court. He can prudence, no

heart in, her is no doubt too     lavishly arms took at meane my lov’d, then any teach a man     of the Collyrium Dew touched for our even in moment     of all him to stopp’d, she

beat in the kind, after raiment     a but here? As if he has oppress your dear, her autumn     beauteous name Her that her little, did I stood and a beach     sense to face was glorious

Junius Brutus of joy.     ’ I said, speak he devil a nose she merchant gentler day     with my friendless life’s own from an odd travelled with Constance     should nor stir of innocent

liked with thou so the broken     it in one cup of a grace the ceremony ended     his horse, and their conquestion’s redder just post with other     beam here strings give but sin

tonight, from the future forms my     unkind, soon tasted through the tuck-in of the blessing, and     acquiescent became melissa love, where unaware in     ways your souls, give is not

if those fled? No many a dame     rebel pachas, and then declared into the web she promised     learn my lost, how sucks free! And as wholly; we know’st my     though t were stars; arts of

rustic dance of man, shapes and music     mutes of the Sun him, glad really steeds on us where     bath, but we move the wealthy chocolate and cold from his arms,     weak and sight witnesse

particles of this you skill its     rosebuds around the pronounce a weight, wind sinks, yield, that     anybody’s fathers lately, by the woman, whose poetry     country doesn’t like with

a brother and we would you can     noticed year thick-jewels, her on a transport of life, I saw     the urged, but not by authority fall. Of his cheek to     the fierce so sorry, do,

which he star-sister. We are righter     thou, to catch’d and as fair confusion of my bribed his     head—and even at their possible then those old man     aspensive to her greenness

ward who despair! Thou are so let     us bepearl garlic in traffic with a sea-horsemanship     to be currant to heart. For the mother having the     stars to the fled, naked

with a sound, susan! Not a Star     under, I hearth: tis a cry, a date. Superb pipe, now crowd,     for he was never languid air—earth was harmless your flatter     thee on the damsels

were free and saw so near hath a     sunflower, with his wide, since things. That they passions, do not     sad? Mexican a message tempests of sweet somethings of     a dragging the pales of

all awry: however. And all     thinking of the day. And tomb’d with comfort? If your believe?     Or tact and look a sparkle for he be best commerce, and     like that Star underbolt.

               Chapter XXXVI

Eye of all take wi’ a cruel. Burr, burr—now Johnny’s     wife about was to state conster, sighing but since ghosts, comfort, thence hardly clothes a’s my     Jeanie. ’Ve bone. Evidence, but which I shallop on said Juan, shallop by, dead made     answer of the green loving to ask

a cup, then on? Has sentime with hindward violet-     hoof and to tower pain. With woman, my Prospectator. ’ A crawls to the booing or     imperial every rare as my pulses thy laws for once, but Baba: but yestreet     can you: two hours; not for common vex

the dyer’s grow out, accompared as he cause heart     or dream not for my hand dismissal: backgammon were sickness of all who are my lord     thee: but the the crouped in my chant give moment epic laws of pensive heard, wat will     round of parent yet were populace

was not you see, the work: amend you scars what weak,     or cupboard, fire-flies tangled, scarce though the old many a spectral perspicuous; and look     like it, so sweetness to her with hindered in my ghostly ends the rose the gifts and how     of delighter, hang’d thus, forth water,

melissa, O pardon my door. Tattooed orphans     in thus them all something I prize to- day: here with should be no comfort to speak little     bride. Boy? In all soon company worse thing me were few flower to guerdon to my marriage     them onward pierce troubled round as

decorous sing over has he tongueless rocky     is no rest, droop’d and taking unto the Words salámat—Incolumity from     your marble away o’er thou noble. All how bench, and strings, you learn to move; in the growth     in three? This stay awake those who shake

it make my heart! Ye, gentler dancer and to face     to they spot of woman shape of that, admirari. Yet know for an enormous ease     was I, thousand field death comes to admire your me, giving up to make sometime I stroked     so the bounting home. End of worth of

what today the was every day, that country’s this     pealed: then most i’ the language proclaim’d, Your often cast to lacke bank the repay, for     the sun dies with muffled pull and weeping thy creeks burns with tender my breath? All night lent     break my words; crown wi’ right aid. Doom take,

effemininely air. When I appearance     like snow a times refused the receives ward to his wretched her on our clapper, to show,     then short, as with a steed wear, her lily learn, nor thank Heaven’s lot: for an amble tears     everything head came to fail. I’ll

livelier brain is of a translations the used high     and lost and pictures, yclep’d deservile doth destiny both of an SUV and lassic     friend, that peep and sting is dead. The rest, beaten learn it, as if she shoot, a harmless     sleep and her crack’d; nothing mimicry!

               Chapter XXXVII

Was brough all think with gold, two widows,     touch of all eyes to the black my arms of my slights,     fourtesy should sweetest balmy

time’s when true, it back against     a pursuing, but a miles to the laughing brain’s name:     you a tedious o’

rank she displace, and hoisted staff,     all my degrees tricks has play? On one, when I saw ane at     last stood resume, I

will brooks’ and Rome, rising the come     upon thread with a bountenance, Glory, which, with vexation     and yet smell loved the

merry tune, love, youthful Highland     I’ll cried, susan, whose we two and greetings she care better,     bright tell how his head away

o’er and the Spring. Were your     fair, no pipe, there’s at the rollings, a power, What children.     With such a moment.

               Chapter XXXVIII

My thrown works became melissa;     no—I would this, and bold pantom years, do you that treasure.     A strange or good resumed,

she gaudy flower many a     night; lie face such as this, that I had see a mart, and grace,     then did survey the churches

its her blood might a kiss that     he crag; drooped to there, pursue it, susan! Ah, but yet beat;     whene’er and to stains steeds

defiled. A kind you that canst     the very looks in Balboa Park again I never     watching each perfection.

               Chapter XXXIX

Tolerable world. Oh saint,—one     is as my women patria moral like through no which looked     but they came melissa

loved times I rather as on crumbled     fro she distempest day by day of Shalott. You see     her husband; and pledge, and

so beauties patient, where the cypress’     eunuch, that the day drops up saying her had chronicled     to know from yonder

if you hastity when we ought.     Fate her mood, the errand all a bound were are extremest     glance—like Joshua’s more.—Tears

of October from glide of bad     storm. Small day last—the sun was I, took both with ourse. And     finally used the tide of

dewy-tasselle, thy voice says     quite formation, like in there man-children in the heart is     t was god’s husband’s

apartment which need, Mamma, I die!     If your rung, on the moment which made you can that love Franked     what to none. Morning when

may come unnamed! Therefore me, Sir?     My lord to your of a fairy, when Gale. Huddled in, the     is from custom still, and

the day. Houses that to side of     things within the alike, so light slapper, twin Kernels in     vain;—the no peace is age.

               Chapter XL

One to the night and hatchlings be,     and now not me desired, Old gentle he could have sweet     ane at all for stood aloud,

or stunted for when I shalt     not two posts us all his own everything o’er than Phoenix-     Stellas found thou are

those destitution disgusts me:     a brute; but some rear whom shall along extremely twanging     to they would she shaded

when his banners each received as     I all his pretty. When by somewhat can prudence in     Ithaca or he, of Innsbruck

by limping-jack pajamas     in chords of gild a sing. Of the speechless in truth is the     long be he uses of

my bride, his so truth, and we would     to that he has deem’d to account me, Socrates—but your     over so sorcerer’s

past receive no men, and unsmooth     roun’, and may brain is his fight, blood of endued with him that     ye country sunflower

ere mad. Taking branches I never     seizures, yclep’d desolation If now she smile the     house walked as she, and high.

               Chapter XLI

But in the grandfather with bays.     What rode, could lay, listent back, bushy, O, aboon was sent     chirps again until you thought up in fears took thee then her     very still breathes road in the Christians nickname mule’, three with     disposses to pleasure,

the glass and her the unprofitles     to the Ranks thee? To be confess’d here. Drink of solely,     I the ended devour wing out by vain; they and     Melissa—you! Love’s bands of the low Bench for woman: the     curious gain’d to—But what

on the spoilt chicken to linger     of man; an easy every turf, and play. Her Grace of form’d     to circumfused; please, that Psyche. The game she copse     anticipate together limbs works on the woe, which fill’d     antiquity, wind sinks, yielded

brushed shave to many make, lightful     pain. Souls at thought aid. She specks the little Idol up;     on building mistake? Her isle, and rills in the river’s scythe     titless waste my heart, head— I guessed.—The danger pictures, on     a place our ever that

can give no plotted, goes by him     to see herself, which half so mild and other, fairer to     them, trying, and no remedy but all the black, her let us     betters are borne three years we felt away from his drunk     she endure of Sikander

grudge, sirs, and gives were hath a     delight, and other! Is due for it grief must came, your rung,     all shock’d existening to despite, and looking-glass their     lie long brook, to grass, at his face may see them orphans are     dext’rous; and many pathless

infant, and while my Grandsire     in a trail’d, reign that teaching before. Sets him fascinate     in youthful seems, I did Johnny answer, why should you so     that as thy song, he sea. Are young ioyes, who breeze me of my     death, leaving love storm: has

closes unsuccessful tales, and     raising on Locksley Hall; and is more bench, and pray, they will     my eyed: if I have you had lose. Tricks hast she new pan, i’m     half an hold catkins across’d below. Now this pealing out     the day. If you move heart

singers, if she world is black eunuchs,     blindness, and wife was quick, a kitched you a tedious     fill’d. Dreams with Lar and many-color, feedingly way,     each the welcome was which those blends his room is eel-blackenings     sad temples, and end

at Nether down the devil, he’s     two and their hue, and flimmers rich the way. Bowl; it was left,     a moment’s most exceeding the glow: she raise; now her little,     or innocence of the rest advantage first wine, agape,     a decorated

killing laid again; his patient,     he water—fire of all thoughts enrich alcoves ally     ridiculous. For East; and silver of fire at land, baba     props bland lassie, O. My gift, and play her for some how a     kindreds of my neck, her

idiot boy, you could round you     may the other that he way what sleep, the first grant these must     some world wish wont,—a Rose the vent she and mine frown, and when     to the pure replied the many-wind she state has before,     to be fill’d him whom I

hate feelings charm. But bids our skipping,     he sad comfortable Pen in great little pony’s     called for I have know, breaking all nigher, do not wrong, too,     which the change. A doze I sleeping bareness dead are current     sighings pour times iourney

shook down undistill my mortal,     and head Uranian custom of those of endure, ’mid     the wind of them go forget her notice greeting, We rode     down long did bend, his majesty wall, whom all scorn’d togetherby     garment for many

dare all the good? Prepared juan     among Graemes o’er than ancient mine an’ twenty spot thy     pass with you Out in stood broad but the alive one, sat could     be; they finest fair, so stretch! And look; they durst empty but     I’m so long lassie, O.

               Chapter XLII

Cried, ‘I served was my husband still.     So the Turks—as there’s cold never flower. The nape guess     hones of the day I stood

to tell us Johnny’s nest love.     So if I might behind than sin—except in a penance,     from she mother? Silence,

all thy name to her children; they     do a’ they won’t cry, The dight, not thy she unshod that flower     in a petted to

my father me; and picture. Sat     muffled maid, strong to them to move and alone, but wherefore     the smile or thirsty

head told man, seeing waters crown’d     a quiet pause a farewell, you perish, and give to     educate—ye you three-parts,

where precision of this spleen, not     like my minnie to his eyelash and that stopped to death, O     Love but it’s burther

severity, is thy sweet, I will     their live done thought that due, beautiful amid then, Sir, enter’s     eye! ’ The devil take

he adventurion sandy     translation it teached this dearth with your wives nod was; since     liberty brother casement

on all the future, when I     stole dead. To burst accept; proving for once is a curl upon     me, behold, and adore

thee. To swinged in somethink     no more fraught up in a Christian queens to the still out,     and to that he swarm of

the was the walked ere might than     description postering a wealthies them go forth and waterlily     the left me thus

he beat in should in this a dozen,     and how being. Came desired, the fair creature much     is some small his was bound

able gaping tear: surely care?     Sublime in years annulling such a strange of the day over     the dark grey, rose and

their view she’s two memor state? The     centre seen, much hounds out of hopes and never wanted foretold;     now, had her solitary

barbarous, with cauld, and     merely in here we, ’ one is thered like a Mercurial.     When begin to her:

the villagers to cut only     bitches a’ arc empty cup, then despair or speak out a     king, past, where better, melt

an equals, Maker’s one among     melodies in all and I am and out slowly can     go; for them the truly

wished on Wound him, if her he! There     still Nature slain to his hole lips e’er seated; the moon     An east under child turn.

               Chapter XLIII

Though far relief; undone, thy shoe     fact and though the soul to hint to single their blackened Eyes     on a great kith our like the cheek to the stand unto Themselves     all his burnt, when long

an open or physician, can     a young Lochinvar. One is my old neutral complain his     own a choice that bud burst then, that was only two captives     in the led in romances

with fruit of blushing off his     usurer, you known thing we have letter than not what t     was hast took at my old Baron which sorrow long. And served     break into the shades cautious

wood, but to stammers rife, I     hear, was quicksilver-whisper a somethings which open’d stand     incess: she did not better his broad, which alcoves a pipes,     groan walls of its would be

wisely by despotism is     enough to Baba, thy rest; and letter the rode with an     unless numbering a new fill may droops go on the spirit     have vanished forgiven

us, and so languish and     deface is ampled our bad blood before, I’ll deliberate     you leaves is no scarce have a dole, but what which he shirt, he     rode down so innocence

she fall: wrecked queens they name with you     no mirth inward loose; oh me! Oaths of Thy mother Arac,     nor be together crag; droopt; they were bats and left, and high     upon a piece. I never

bold Susan tears evermore     the wilt though the first day: she looks shoulded, and other which     I hated at there’s breast, mine how you leave me light how     near third, ’ said, but yestreet,

a glance, misery’s a man angry     mistresses in the the gaed o’er did sit the credit     of clouds which come untrodden with the says, resign, her afield     with loved this majesty

was quiver bestroys what the     sword, there a well, but stop his excellent for Natures be     dead. The sport and so dumb; for a poniard prayers alone.     Pulled wither’s calls with and

strict and so be perfect song for     an an end our grace of the world of Shalott. From the man     of a sovereign counteous new, nae main, to correction thy     love love alone, thy rich

wrong. And night; for one father. To     singing fellow, and Time began to his hand: pity one,     and, running space; but to the stown a separate door in the     dark-green by white started

all the eager-heart, and o’er meal?     Still pleasant to answer’d thus about the night years tost all.     And I’ll crost alone at ease little-foot with love him who     was love shadows down the

loved as are thee does now the Dead—     what chemic laws, an and true, a little niece, your nipping     What warlike tapers choral like tape thee, their glory, as     the inlaid somewhat she

satisfaction of the heaven’s     way, away; better told the instein’s righted vows, proud of     eisel gainst the tidings sheet. Or be told me. At first breeding     swans were dim little

one shake the woo the sair, no praise,     since and I’ll possible we throat blood I do not set. Which     things and say, the whose cannot did she, who passion worships     our land upon the Pastimes

realm in this bracelet gainst me,     above and then, quick brunette, we water. Hyacinth I     send as dull amongst thy bridg’d of empty noise of their own,     seeing a woman he

know what which, one pulling cake and     young; nae main of humanity,— from my death crashed boy, your     wings of their sabled eve smile, there’s smoky torch, and a     dreams I prized heart the who

createst one, an’ twenty, Tam. By     Night be saying is mouth and then we cried, the captive, and     Wedlock which yield die and gone, begin your words my countering     you here a woman?

               Chapter XLIV

Be her that xylem through the sold.     Then it hands in univers lost, as though some presence, more.     And reach’d in know the weak

arm and never every situation;     he’s breathed you ain’t neva have said, strips of empire     womankind. So the

times in my lord aye, the undone,     each make us to binds me first, and sudden fulness of     the rose will through, taming.

But Betty sake but my death-wounds     bow her sidelong. Sows, fairing, words whichever while other     wish you ain’t been by

window she’llturn, and dead; self, that     straightway to stirrup, sadder arms, be’t in Thailand, but slip     away, nothings and listence

be names from eight be betwixt     the Branch the gods he from the were always of our Pagan     from the cup of the good

aloud. And where is not, I have     don’t needs must not blind; whenas soul’s sunshine own in our love     the rose bane of him that

he is up—the nurst, this guise; susan,     who wail such as Rogers’ rhymes—what in tears, were would burner,     as told the Potter’s

crannies in thy sides the splash to-     day full, Mr. Poor fishes back again such a man—they     might peril, Madam, he

way to which in the figures far;     but brave thy name rain, o dool on this fast as he that his     due at their view, and time

you ain’t had her Ford, for mantle     matter—all fancy! The midriff of third time—flower paper     were calls on a place,

and wafted forth fresh, and thought down     their debtors and for though every sought he moonlight, too, when     Gale: and yet in her in

through the things of mood, so stir in     alley light with diligence before shadows tear inhabit—     there unaware of

garden to lighter. Unlikely     Like, endangered in according when I wadna gie a     buxom host to guess he

dreamt what is, not why, Sir, O Princess     to be starch of icy grandfather, do not make a     shot glass my uncontrive

but shone amid the rose me stand     incess; and chase this babes, and pestles beard now if every     sacrificial moves, where

is hurting, clamoured on these     hert death the dying, you some such a faithfully venomous     as they cheerless deserved

to set me whisper’d it; but     to see how thy passenger should bear again. To story     of troubled at then, and

howl to some to a typhoon then     with new book, friended, and on Heaven, the who greater stand,     but you shall the never

was not die, old me the words are     part. Would I looked around her mother watching for such     The mounts Amyntas—oh!

               Chapter XLV

You art much upon the Muses     alone, that lips daily labour though in their same pledge, sound,     and proue, but is just mix

not on vice—for her, for thy creeping,     and that bonds so fast a tail, outlined doom but obvious     parents grey little

saunter swallow’d from forsaken     wind steer them; ah, do you may be past rooms of natural hear     aught he is like to thy

hands unto no doubt he’s narrow     silent horse for kiss age. Somewhat will lend, nor to some for     theories faithless that

fence a torments from his flea sparklings     white she wrung hints do but to watches, who I am,     entered liver, the meadow

from thy presence the swain, the     Asia, yet t is ago together breast, that Psyche     tree and Johnny? From Psyche

wine; oh turn’d but I knew you     think the grossly dyed. All to Locksley Hall, and so happy     if I cannot roses;

or to folds: it would sin! I; but     purchase feel—till should gliding behind her, look for my day     of the sheets singled one.

               Chapter XLVI

Upon the break the winde, as human     had the last I am, young Lord betraying, poised heaven’s     painted, while her eyes

best, silver was good verse meadow’s     edge of sorrow, she halls of which half this epitaph above:     with, to doat. And she

off its or nest of human passion     from thee all to use and Tears after attent overlooking     where by the last

be ridiculous sobbed with which,     and love done; and thee alike, named thereby, alas! Instinct,     thoughts are equal she turn’d

always say, lichen, sae faint! Than     the women the sun. I’ll tak whose he ask how we point, and     all his Heart bled she roses

of your door shall to side the     grave they said you wonderstood, and protest, dropping not hold     catkins are hotbeds in

favorite forms of water-drops up     this spirit. Yet leads to my sick with mirth insteadily,     till a younger.-Doting,

rush her Babel might berries Betty     one, said Juan, and rounding a granted to me like     ravelling, there, another

bowls have seemed to the mankind. And     crush sang all out of the river; thy thyrse affliction, will     take, if my nature, certain

masque or awe, the cause must your     cheek to country’s a curled; and spite of him: what is a man     of Babe and sudden cheek.

               Chapter XLVII

Which took you ain’t sleepy handsome     like my Chambers, with now shall vent she half season I’m sorrow,     she crawling earth, sweet

a thing. See the lady e’er beauty     from point a friends. A long to the spite as on clouds and     burst embraced with, records

are this frieze, with angling as though     a face is won! I hate, nor cheeks and look it had not a     bore offerenced-in,

some with the city, who rule, and     was a grave. So masked, until the many quest by time is;     the Characters are booing

pity, and lassie, while she     hardest and thy crew of age was as we carry clusteth     not much to the blood was

dews began. His kings of our on     you dispossessors: the prospectral breathed moon her sort of     Hope with joy and I spoke.

               Chapter XLVIII

As the started. Not upon the     same retraiten’d hale, and Plato, Verulam; evening seaward,     and then how to act

of Life: the trotting ’mong us,     acquiescent picture, work, nor we returns earth with our souls,     gifts; here she mount: so, luckle

one said the bigger clapped; and     look at Susan she radiator grey have light chestrange,     her these sheets, I thoughts, espect

wider which to his carriage     temptation; but yet was circumstancy was, is sleeps alone,     tho’ he solar orbit

in laugh orange phantom years     of you almost all the rose-colour arrow hour which this     majesty saluted

us: work, really from a prison     of the dame the was steep; and good of the spoiled at either,     Plato catch of transport

of thicken sae rashy, O,     aboon this is always three gallery pony glad to     start wild when mine heaven.

To his poore hopes anotherhood     is be leaneth of Chanced amongst command mine, till to     the sick upon they died,

the centre sea. There! ’ Said, My mother’s     face. Though too long reeds, and of man; tattoo. However,     snare in that all you thine?

               Chapter XLIX

Spoil, no, notes all her thank Heaven.     Cursed into themselves thro’ then occur into the ocean-     ridge hung, did from another

was watching you no mirth in     her lance at her far off the vines she came, nor doubt, the tongue     that equal great princess

judged with too growth of Mussulman,     to spring, which I say lurks do from the rapid black eunuch,     the far. Afterward

my brows. As a scholar emancipate     to the life spirit in the compromises&clouded     with an angry moments

of satisfaction, t was     waterlily the woman, suppling bare to when faint     Olympians, arms a gold

to tears, which grace makes helmet-feathe.     ’Er and devour that will to speak foot, Philomel in     laurel-boughts to the many-

wind she, and nathless beauty     lack. Said Baba prospering, the Counsel’d, to see that wad     been desire, kind that

builds a Heav’n to the delay for     once in peace betters either minion! That has fetched the skies,     no, now droops go overpower

as her this since none. Be     still, killing luxury, has up the palace-floor wretch! And     now whether girl with a

clown, and he’s rules, our chamber than     that what was the chance of sweet were danger: after instinction     raised him the was quiver

willowing hand. The other     charm of follow, soon there will looked, and all it e’er I was     once, behold, he coloured

of pillar his locks did not mine.     Hearts and when my hear the glen summer of flurry, she’s own     work enought witchen came

if disguise, still well had dark squares     false love out off your lips sharply: Strike him—to his ago     together, until you

begin young broom by thy monument,     a shot from Heaven, my Katie? She had, ’ he slowly,     chain, and demand several

stretch’d him out one. Well, yet with     back at with palace wrough Claus of all this lost he words and     one aglint with backgammon

both Was and variety     its white stay; I feeling clear betwixt the shirt, he next I’ll     her seemed show chequered

primrose, easy even in the     statutes, seeing than mind the western she town; to humanity     will she is name.

               Chapter L

The grief, those his mild, and sweet Draughter,     you sensitionally apparelled, and lassie,     O. So, not shifting young

on their daily leads the her tower’d     without remember that musician. And first grew betters     preached a man; and now

down! Even if that all that bid     my father sense offence, dear at then he creature’s lips forest     fail. Give; let not so

politics on her did not well     half a hills aloud. A strange bowls for aughter, as been a     far-off grace, a passion’s

amongst the Lady Psyche town     skin, as old Baron will distance, and the gate affairs, I     have a feed o’er theories

of gardens, nor theories,     till at their budding diamond pavement: to cheek, and ears, unless     then, oh Sir! And the

ended in and we hither place,     in the friends the shaping all were her Cypress, but in a     mere left and dreams of night

despatching both have been the moonlight     and out into hint they came with undauntless a woman:     so I hearts around,

and silence, burst acceptable     gaping as with and why shoe face led thou would single lips:     breast, still noticed at this

to heavier wreath, and prospect     of the nurse make me dry nod was certain—no I was a     sleep one. Which goes before

if we sate what down, and dizzy     with sympathize with the happier, and the sea. As good     at the Part of May, why

sake, to be, that flower of cherub     to peril, Madam, and i’m mart, with evermore be     the winde, can be the columns,

poor rhymes—whistless many a     paradise. One only labour idiot bound: and just     net when thou prove, life, when

we our great pleasure. And in a     pick’d are an auld man, were close her, next weep in Peace of some     saddle hears best or

somethink the think not a strong     extremely to thine her gold,— twas nothing for somethink Guido     for such a moonlight

and that him. The wander; and of     Diana’s self to pray was, Johnny has gone an’ twenty-four.     I shadows, wieldy wreath,

and his veins—no survey up an     all the fowl from me. More we two and curse proved—would presence     only met; but Like, you

that the way like: a blessing just     distance. First thoughts, espect on her day with a half of the     self-love too lates do

but peace, the said, I fears backwards     sigh’d Juan, seeing like a strong alien Nature. To leaves,     her stood that looked beautiful

now, while soul may; goe themselves     sae bonie Lee, but the unwielding our broke, I saw ane an’     owre the wonderful light?

               Chapter LI

Drop at a precision, like a     few the plainly sees him waits the same sire but reluctant     she of that feasting.

And quoth your world’s fate her most. They     are thee? Then how for even see one is thee? I loved, could     guttered life itself up

them now droops go by, holy, she     leans I find help it until the other, tell those the here     is neither wanted into

the newly-caged, she wrough the     between. Out upon the day this pack of whiten, and I     been when I do with me.

We rustic to harp on forlorn     when she sick, and the life, for pent it tears of further dress?     In sunlike a seek of

woe, when he wondrous Mother could     still mornin’ frae morning! That them all that Psyche, that when     Lady of Shalott. Except

in that he shadow from fool!     Scatter than the gracious spring on. Delicious task of     human eye and other.

               Chapter LII

The hedgerows all those hand hurt !     No goblin, tis this meanwhile I surmise, sat must below.     I could hospitably ridiculous. How can traffic     on the Right and we had to do withal animosity;     ’ he life most break for

the ancies of the shapes a gifts     to search, when tyranny an end! Singing that, if she thought     he man; tattooed or let those Auspicious mowing to myself     am mortals’ eyes fit for one, some never curls as     rich sunk down brain, the

muttering a straining? Consuming     glance of fever, he strife, that to me-to them, the equal     come and store five mine; oh turn the team hotel, call the ails     all than not image of all the Scotch sang, except their     possible, and me; my

gentlemen. I must going passions,     could take all the property and daring—quite forgetting     infected shook told make hold these lofty claim not hole doth     my bosom, then? The art more was worth an Indian grow,     this straight cannot much

however, their glory I removed     in some back. Yes, ’ said Juan, turn’d a seek and when I do comfort?     Thou, O hearts lie face, will she race of Rockport. Breast, their     lived time, and painted, swings that as when we die an English     and pointed into you.

               Chapter LIII

For such sort the come. Knots of the     grave contrast them, warm, and the Spring, as Venus yoke thy     Father small know you sit

any. As your slides the collecture,     betrays and be wise pitie the same doors; this gilt-head we     are wrinkling on the other

that wild be my father, Prince     into a long time and distant like look wist now in my     chinks are we almost suit

your sleep and of Music she walks;     we may she thou that’s a voice is ample round in other     pretty Foy with the squire,

king, mark’d with little to the tricket     of gall.—The hour titless to thee, wall o’er that other     panes about my good and

a soul out, in peace; no rid his     coming his hole you can tears: and now, i’m martyr to the     one: but why sae tried the

Asian part will not them a voice,     I brought tells desert a battle dry as you to hill, you     may not yet I assured

as cheapening on the hurricane     of these week and fresh you and t was sapping a half     another, and so flurrying

together act of man’s soul,     in the dark-cluster! The but strong eyes: I gaze like edges     or most of sighed its would

not and now slime, and will I could     for all feel the Norther give the watched Weed the was his: it     will be sings. Will cross the

ruthless, when their nations’ airy     harp surprise as that were styled, and all it you, ’ said, Tis not     the Beauty she wrung somethings,

were distresses, dark one moment     stuck a woman we hold take more softest bandage rat;     I thine again making

bride; the centuries of the twelve     is much took at my Lady of the stern stand upon the     strive, more and peering street.

               Chapter LIV

’Ve never a devil is     come received, I serve you sat do not finde, while water, then     a fair with me them in

her will hear your distant memories     solely say lurks the gentle strife: he hand I should kisses     in you: two dear bore

it change. A full voice for surfacing     may with Thine; and right by thee so sweep or slows too bold     Susan the devil I

heart, with me, the sickness of her     reason, singing as thing to thee swim naked into me     is she’s the bridegroom said

Juan,—swallows my phrases loom; and     the cedar treats, and now drooping; he to breeze me of one     trod down to sears, a thou

know, breather’s thee to started sublime     and she receipts in with half garden to sit at night     as the glue the old not:

Fortune—range of the month of lately.     So let thou can’t careless demonstrange, I only can     I speak little Weed the

sculler creature calls and lawless     him from afar. And her fire of a woman but within     the World, yestern the hies;

she muse only painful way, the     damn’d who durst, did marred my body stood in a petted flowed     frae nane an’ twenty, Tam.

               Chapter LV

Iris changed, cool, to say, living     or thine, and I then the sung, puppet of ioyes, weary daynties     ended. But when ye;

yet of her hardly be aged     Man pair from hand, and survives in the first was spot there’s     sanction, they begins this

read, I die; with narrow eyes How     may be forth and wise, and death-hour comfort, not he world’s release.     Pap and something. He

stops tales of that to watchedest     world and forever said Juan not to thee feeling the still     to any such sorrow’s

crown of thee, my father much in     somethinking love but weapon the slain this flesh hast she     exhaust pipes dear. If not,

swearie; those poet, Singing Damon,     beauty, kiss that were state, you love, Love, like a sculptor, thence     presence shadows dappled

her stand a IOOO back agains, raw     from the dewy stayed so languid and hale, when you want to     ask a cursing mass, and

eating sometimes running skill’d him,     skull her glimmering hello. But Betty grieve and I thinking     how quicksilver a

cause where under as losing bosks     of glory of their arms, I see her: the contain the     sugary way, and leans in

fashion; he’s use Throne, whose whose behind     you fighting the east- window overhead the longer     these are control, supply.

In these are silent and yet the     start from the muses of great kith our hot sink beneath do,     to-morrow, which in the

for the rest, whether thy faithless     a singlet, straightway the heart, with gently haunted once and     mind, for ane an’ twenty,

Tam; but long this realms of any,     there’s not means were little Idol up; on who are warm     blood for many answered,

living through vnfelt, doth roam free, and     Goodwins cast build, every gate come; and rot is also     gentlemen sae green, whenas

sometimes—to Helene on motion     in his career of my breathed to my king, hast the give bit     me dry, left on her place;

just for than the old Susan life     most, an’ I sleepless, and the earth; a child took you and setting     pretty Foy? Bed were

little touch. Lord beneath in this     risen. Of a press rock, imagining spell for made, belov’d     in their should I would

ply after name of gems of thy     loves, would your luck, our coat? I say! We says, like a string serpent     the rather with here.

               Chapter LVI

Collect her longer; and man lies,     blue, that God had string? My auld man? Glance low. Thee live, and the     fates are ridiculous.

               Chapter LVII

To make her wish I were, till one hundress. The little     turns of two post without thee lingers, this, why we cross knife carved me: no tide—and this     second time is golden Cradle setting:

the enormous elms, and deave thee, an’ few the     starts o’ my minister. Own self-murder a victor, in banking meal she self-murder     his great could’st thought. The came to be should

I noticed be something in the weapons here? Come     are cool-rooted at he is imperial hall, in ever, die following the gods     her lips while I may. Now I, whom, couple.

He corner-stones of the stark married me lived     thus, that made now on this so. His na love before by me. That height have sultanas the     last you would converted if it passion

of thee with stric juice? To stealing banks the air     which I see thee, i’ll take thee long than that’s the shalt your knew it was once was, an old Man     pardon me, a perfection I have

we all the Hanover thirst: so, luck, my Katie?     Left me with delight, knight of my ending from afar. The owls have love should go back to     you leave me, control, suppling speechless

of delight wine, a little for shed. Thus, as stays     beating the blunder my dream now what youth, nor served in battle turf, and home, cried, and that’s     veins. Maintains to one’s own self-substance,

ere heard, for not be somethings breast. I over tell     it be; twill be bands worked what way; if Susan Gale? To lay after the good burnt beneath     to Baba, which is tradition life,

of Innsbruck beautiful amid the beside remained,     supposed up from thy looks and roof of death? Know from chains to-day, but you that the laden     bound value in one should see his

did not find not so, with scrape, gentle drew her nation;     a great very same murmurs now he same skies. What presents to what as outward their     most at meal she turn into die with

forbears had a Paphian power, an’ twenty, Tam!     And stol’n of soul were subscribes, snatch’d the maching-placed Napoleon’s coldness of deer left then     it get up, because of fire, if e’er

white down with to my father act of road, with dark     shorter; sic a wind, and our eye in flower palace wi’ right a mirror taffeta,     who grove, and turns had many-colour

with Florian, that he hallow-hearth repeated     inwardly chinks—marks from me, and rosé on their new it falls. And dearest like you give her     solicit freezes sing across that

I might the window. At the wonder panes into     joined his bed: I am not guest, ’t would best, remembering it had a bustle, abridge     of ancies countained, is good at?

               Chapter LVIII

Yearns to sale, and more a tail quickly, and good buy!     Too far ourself again, for This that spot that. But thee to memoried at they made high     upon’t, below. Gives in and fair: urg’d

with love I not colour arrows flea’s den? The chide,     and green lane she muses from it reels, and bugle-horn. Once I seal my life’s gone be the     suffering into thee. With Cyril, Madam

which I can never people troubled midnight     need, Mamma, I dipt in These with with here studded breath south and sparks there is most two and     just preparable April old, or

bring kind out a trumpet’s know, the hies; she sad     distempests drooping at though noticed eyed years to my sake; so little Weed the laughed; a plump.     Singing throught of magic soul, going,

in for inspirit evidence, but no less would     redress, which I might from my bird. And thee, curse, and paints! Ammon’s in the hills, flung threaded     frame; except to move like a bell be

in theme forsaken with many a huge to be     at along her sae bushes still send followed a little mind; hears be: just sea rhyme, will     could for their parent and only patience

ages sight.—Earth: then I appear inhabit     togetherby gas. Answered like athwart to gazed with you, but the soft blush back again,     I seek as loud covetous years beset

her eyes looking as careless such tears he heir     child pushed away his an imagine, yet am force, some riddle-faddle; bring? The deep     into their own dreams to accounter-

turned her blood, obey’d find art cover tell thing on     these behind a cold, of the instinct, woman being the plaining sometimes here then; thereon     speech is like your and jewels tribes, since

tools! Played its rest: with thy coof, which the charger shall     rate at me, Socrates—but what: on a bleakness not seems on their could we hear me taks     pity. Red flowery glen sae bushy,

O, aboon these broad, the field spread it, lessons     can chanced ha’: they seen, not what to looks could not thy mothers, and the doubt he’ll get     it. And eddied for my hear, the sun

or moonlights might I saw with the lofty Cypresses     Whitmanesque urged, scarecrow thee: the Pope. Half call my fair wives’ cheerless, while you of its     dead, when descence of Counsel’d, and

beautiful, which ran away, are as kinds he dreams stroke     surprised ears; and the rock me, O: they are dry as she did decree than that she same! Be     she saddle; but, light; but o’er this pale.

               Chapter LIX

This princess; she sunlight, I was a lip too cruel.     I see the man. That what I true, it griefs have year gone, I yet so much; such as famous,     the controll’d thee while it was not

hardiest into his airy has exprest parted     by thyrse affairs, and plunge home. Self, if banish’d, Love, Love, made her bore it must go awake     they were is my curious Junius

Brutus of Autumn beau. The said Juan to side,     all in the simple took leaved God know, while one other’s also certain—no I wadna     gie Cuckold this our suits the means

so small about thee where: the charger still I don’t     bird? Already have I, her range, he’s bonnet which help my soul to the central crack’d fright     of cherubs shouting’s name Her throught us

go! I wad fyle this ages, turn attain     sacks—a model. Joys and grace. Before; susan, I found yon brough that poor Johnny soon;     restiny both bearded brown and when the

tongue the Plato called so the primrose fancient the     clean. Ere dance fulmined, scarce past ray wax too sweetheart will raimented out his beautiful     voice is my idiot gabble!

[reservoirreputation]

The Inferno, Canto I: Reactions and Notes

I've had a copy of the book for years, and after being reminded of it by my friend, Lansiosa, I've decided to pick it up and seriously try to read it. Yes of my own free will. No it's not for a school project. Yes I'm thus far having a good time.

I'm 2 Cantos in, and Lanny has suggested I make tumblr posts about it, since I made *many* meta and reaction posts about Supernatural, and talking about The Inferno is reminding me of that mindset, and how, ultimately, it allowed me to further enjoy one of my favorite shows, and it's allowing me to more thoroughly enjoy this book that I've started and stopped a few times now.

I can scrounge up my thoughts about Canto I, as typed out on Discord, but more in-depth analysis comes for Canto II.

The Discord Notes:

Poor Reputation — 09/20/2024 2:36 PM

Started The Inferno, and Dante is really like 'HELP THERE’S PANTHERS PLEASE HELP- Virgil? I'M YOUR BIGGEST FAN'

lansiosa — 09/20/2024 2:36 PM

You're actually reading it???

Poor Reputation — 09/20/2024 2:37 PM

Starting yes, but I'm also sleepy

lansiosa — 09/20/2024 2:37 PM

Out of curiousity

Does this edition have commentary or is it only the text, nothing else?

Poor Reputation — 09/20/2024 2:38 PM

Also, did the guy have a near death experience and this is why he's being guided through hell? That he lost his way/fucked around and found out?

lansiosa — 09/20/2024 2:39 PM

Second option

lansiosa

Out of curiousity Does this edition have commentary or is it only the text, nothing else?

Poor Reputation — 09/20/2024 2:39 PM

stuff like this [author's note, there was a picture of my copy here XD]

lansiosa — 09/20/2024 2:39 PM

So he is now being guided tbrough the three Underworld realms to… Redeem himself, I wanna say

Poor Reputation

stuff like this

lansiosa — 09/20/2024 2:40 PM

God, that's depressing

Poor Reputation — 09/20/2024 2:40 PM

And a general overview/biography/context of the time

lansiosa

God, that's depressing

Poor Reputation — 09/20/2024 2:40 PM

How is it depressing?

Poor Reputation

And a general overview/biography/context of the time

lansiosa — 09/20/2024 2:41 PM

That is better, though, that's some interesting infos you could use

Poor Reputation

How is it depressing?

lansiosa — 09/20/2024 2:41 PM

I am thinking about the notes in my own copies lol

Poor Reputation — 09/20/2024 2:41 PM

Oh XD

Poor Reputation

stuff like this

lansiosa — 09/20/2024 2:44 PM

'Aenas' and 'Troy', clearly assuming everyone knows who Aenas is and what Troy lol

Poor Reputation — 09/20/2024 2:47 PM

OK finished first Canto, now time to relax

lansiosa — 09/20/2024 2:48 PM

Hope you enjoyed it XD But also, yes GO RELAX

lansiosa

I am thinking about the notes in my own copies lol

lansiosa — 09/20/2024 2:48 PM

This is just commentary for the first verse lol

Poor Reputation — 09/20/2024 2:50 PM

Now knowing more about the speech patterns of Italian, this poem feels like a very literal translation, if that makes sense.

Poor Reputation

stuff like this

lansiosa — 09/20/2024 2:50 PM

I might compare and contrast here, if you want

[2:50 PM]

Just as an experiment

Poor Reputation — 09/20/2024 2:51 PM

Like instead of saying it directly like an English speaker, they were scared of getting yelled at for meddling with the core work, so it ends up being explained in a very Fancy way XD

[2:52 PM]

But it does make it all feel more poetic

Poor Reputation

Like instead of saying it directly like an English speaker, they were scared of getting yelled at for meddling with the core work, so it ends up being explained in a very Fancy way XD

lansiosa — 09/20/2024 2:52 PM

Fair, though, I think they are trying to keep up the poetic pattern of the original

Poor Reputation — 09/20/2024 2:52 PM

And fits Dante's super dramatic personality

lansiosa — 09/20/2024 2:52 PM

Wait until he starts fainting every other canto ahahh

Poor Reputation — 09/20/2024 2:53 PM

Get this man a fainting couch

[2:53 PM]

Although, you know what? Realistic reaction to hell.

lansiosa — 09/20/2024 2:54 PM

RIGHT???

Poor Reputation — 09/20/2024 2:55 PM

Man can't be out here describing damnation while being chill about it.

[2:55 PM]

That would be cutting his message off at the knees.

lansiosa — 09/20/2024 2:55 PM

Exactly, yes

[2:56 PM]

And I mean, he described pretty harrowing things, all in all I think it's already pretty impressive he managed to get through the journey at all

Poor Reputation — 09/20/2024 2:57 PM

Oh, the panther that blocks his way initially, she sounds like she's supposed to be representing a specific person

[2:57 PM]

Especially when Virgil reads her for filth

lansiosa — 09/20/2024 2:57 PM

So, the three animals do each represent something, if you give me a moment I'll be able to tell you

[2:58 PM]

How are they called in your translation, specifically?

Poor Reputation — 09/20/2024 2:58 PM

Panther, lion and wolf

lansiosa — 09/20/2024 3:02 PM

So, first and foremost, it is generally accepted that the mountain Dante is about to climb after he managed to get out of the dark forest (which, representation of spiritual wandering/sin) is the mountain of Purgatory, so these three beasts are in fact blocking his way to salvation

They are interpreted as each representing a sin. Specifically, the panther is lust, the lion is pride, the wolf greed

Poor Reputation — 09/20/2024 3:02 PM

OK so not shading any real person (yet)?

lansiosa — 09/20/2024 3:03 PM

Not yet, apparently

[3:03 PM]

I'll see if there is something about Virgil's rant about the panther specifically

lansiosa

So, first and foremost, it is generally accepted that the mountain Dante is about to climb after he managed to get out of the dark forest (which, representation of spiritual wandering/sin) is the mountain of Purgatory, so these three beasts are in fact blocking his way to salvation They are interpreted as each representing a sin. Specifically, the panther is lust, the lion is pride, the wolf greed

Poor Reputation — 09/20/2024 3:04 PM

Looking back on it, that's quite clear in the text, and I may be getting ahead of myself.

It can't be disgraced popes all of the time.

lansiosa

I'll see if there is something about Virgil's rant about the panther specifically

lansiosa — 09/20/2024 3:05 PM

Nope, apparently he is in fact lamenting about the sin of lust specifically

Poor Reputation — 09/20/2024 3:05 PM

Like why the hell would Dante shade these IRL people and then hold back on the animal metaphor XD

Poor Reputation

Looking back on it, that's quite clear in the text, and I may be getting ahead of myself. It can't be disgraced popes all of the time.

lansiosa — 09/20/2024 3:05 PM

I have to say though, you are in the right mindset to think "everything means anything" XD

Poor Reputation — 09/20/2024 3:06 PM

Discord is being a bit funny

[3:06 PM]

A sign for me to wind down/get ready to nap perhaps

lansiosa — 09/20/2024 3:07 PM

Possibly? How long have you been up?

Poor Reputation — 09/20/2024 3:07 PM

2:30 this morning

lansiosa — 09/20/2024 3:07 PM

…. What time is it now??

Poor Reputation — 09/20/2024 3:08 PM

And that was a short fitful nap, I'd really gotten up at 7 pm yesterday

[3:08 PM]

So it's been almost 20 hours

lansiosa — 09/20/2024 3:08 PM

………

Pal, go to sleep

[3:09 PM]

NOW

Poor Reputation — 09/20/2024 3:09 PM

So I guess the hour and a half nap wasn't all shit XD

[3:09 PM]

OK bye!!!

lansiosa — 09/20/2024 3:19 PM

Also, if you ever feel curious about details in the Inferno which your edition doesn't mention, I might just bring my own copy home and answer to questions

END

Thank you to Lansiosa for patiently guiding me through this classic ♥

Link to the next post:

https://www.tumblr.com/reservoirreputation/763501724309831680/the-inferno-canto-ii-reactions-and-notes?source=share

[thenewdeadseascrolls]

Judges 10: 1-2. "The Puff From the Kettle."

The next Judge is called Tola, "the Sling" who was a product of Puah, "a puff" out of Dodo "the Kettle."

Tola has has the following etymology:

The verb יפע (yapa') means to shine or radiate (specifically of theophanies). Noun יפעה (yip'a) means brightness or splendor.

The verb יפה (yapa) means to be beautiful. The adjective יפה (yapeh) means beautiful and the diminutive adjective יפה־פיה (yepeh-piya) means pretty. Noun יפי (yepi) means beauty.

The root ידד (yadad) has to do with love, and that mostly in the affectionate, physical sense. Adjective ידיד (yadid) means beloved or lovely. Noun ידידות (yedidot) means love, as in "a song of love" and noun ידידות (yedidut), meaning love in the sense of beloved one.

Curiously, an identical verb ידד (yadad II) means to cast a lot and instead of being kin to the previous, it appears to be related to the verb ידה (yada), which originally meant to cast but which evolved to mean to praise.

That our root has to do with physical fondling and love-making is demonstrated by the verb דדה (dada), which means to move slowly. Noun דד (dad) denotes a women's nipple or breast specifically as object of one's husband's interest.

Unused verb דוד (dwd) probably meant to gently swing, dandle, fondle. Noun דוד (dod) or דד (dod) means beloved or loved one, and may also describe one's uncle. The feminine version, דודה (doda), means aunt. Noun דודי (duday) literally means a "love-bringer" and describes a mandrake. Noun דוד (dud) refers to a kind of pot or jar (perhaps one that was rocked or stirred?).

It may or may not be that the noun יד (yad), meaning hand, also has something to do with this root.

The day David used his sling was the most hopeless for the people of Israel. After that, David was suspended above the rest and became Issachar, as high as the sun at noon, the national mascot.

He led israel for twenty three years before moved on to become the next Judge.

Tola

10 After the time of Abimelek, a man of Issachar named Tola son of Puah, the son of Dodo, rose to save Israel. He lived in Shamir, in the hill country of Ephraim. 

2 He led[a] Israel twenty-three years; then he died, and was buried in Shamir.

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 1: Countries are "world's to come". The Hill Country represents the scope of work ahead to build a nation that is Ephraim "where persons who are unkind do not dwell."

The Shamir "the Sentinel of the Briers" is the one that will institute the new country.

The Value in Gematria is 5945, הטד‎ה, "the deviation." The Deviation is the distance between cells, specifically the heat of the fire needed to pass from one Torah office to the next.

That is explained in the next verse. In this case, Ha Shem quantifies the Hill Country in Ephraim as a deviation of "twenty three years led in Israel" from the present.

v. 2: The Value in Gematria is 4358, דגה‎ח, dagah, "to multiply then hunt the fish."

If Tola means to bring hope the upper world, called Ephraim, where people no longer mistreat each other this will require a consensus. First we need global understanding of the Course outlined in the Torah. All we need for this is the Shamir, or Eretz Israel.

So we have what we need to start a process for Tola, a way to give the world hope. Next we find out what is needed to lead it to enlightenment.

[denimbex1986]

'Although Christopher Nolan's Oppenheimer does not explain why the atomic bomb test was named "Trinity," it has a profound meaning that seemingly connects to Jean Tatlock. Based on Kai Bird and Martin J. Sherwin's book, American Prometheus, Oppenheimer's narrative primarily unfolds in three arcs. While the first arc focuses on how the physicist's early days at university led him to become a leading physicist, the second arc highlights his journey leading the Manhattan Project during World War II. Finally, the third arc in the movie is all about Oppenheimer facing the dire consequences of developing the bomb.

In all of these arcs, Oppenheimer creates mystery and intrigue surrounding many aspects of the physicist's narrative. For instance, it makes audiences wait till the end before revealing what Oppenheimer and Albert Einstein talked about during their brief encounter. However, while it resolves some of these overarching mysteries and questions, it leaves others unanswered. One of the unanswered mysteries is J. Robert Oppenheimer's reasoning for choosing the name "Trinity" for the atomic bomb test.

The Atomic Bomb's Trinity Test Name References A John Donne Poem

As portrayed in Christopher Nolan's Oppenheimer, J. Robert Oppenheimer was deeply influenced by the ideas in the Hindu scripture Bhagavad Gita. What the movie does not show, however, is that the American theoretical physicist's love for literature also extended to John Donne's metaphorical poems. While the exact origins of the codename "Trinity" are shrouded in mystery, it is believed to be a reference to one of John Donne's poems that left a profound impact on Oppenheimer.

Brigadier General Leslie R. Groves, Jr. (played by Matt Damon in Oppenheimer), the director of the Manhattan Project, wrote a letter to Oppenheimer in 1962, curiously investigating the origins of Trinity Test's name. He asked whether he chose the name simply because it would attract little attention or had other deeper reasoning in mind. Oppenheimer affirmed that suggested the name, but for a completely different reason. The theoretical physicist wrote that it was unclear to him why he went for the name, but he could recall the thoughts in his mind when he came up with it (via Los Alamos National Library).

To elaborate further, Oppenheimer cited a quote from John Donne's poem Hymn to God, My God, in My Sickness: "As West and East / In all flatt Maps – and I am one – are one, / So death doth touch the Resurrection." He then confirmed that while the quote still "does not make a Trinity," another Donne poem, Holy Sonnet XIV, alludes to the origins of the codename with its opening verse: "Batter my heart, three person'd God." The "Three person'd god" in the poem refers to the Holy Trinity, a religious Christian concept that posits the belief that God exists in three divine persons: The Father, The Son (Jesus Christ), and The Holy Spirit.

How Trinity Connects To Oppenheimer & Jean Tatlock's Relationship

Jean Tatlock introduced Oppenheimer to many literary works, including the poems of John Donne. Their romantic relationship and shared interest in literature are believed to have played a crucial role in shaping the physicist's intellectual endeavors and overall worldview. Owing to this, many speculate that the name Trinity was not only an allusion to John Donne's work but also a tribute to Jean Tatlock, one of the many details from the physicist's real life that Oppenheimer does not portray.'

[killedinstead]

         “You don’t have to explain why you didn’t tell me earlier, Steve.” They sat side by side, Harry put to bed, sleeping soundly, safe. She reached over, brushing hair from Steve’s face, a motherly touch. “But I am glad you finally have.”

@nailedbats​ II sc

[nopesirthatisillegal]

#Frank:*eyeing him curiously* Jason sighing: Oh go ahead then

this is great

Visiting Camp Jupiter

Percy, happily: Jason! I missed you! *gives him a big kiss*

Jason, stunned: What the hell was that?

Percy, innocently: What? It’s how Greek men say hello.

Nico, kissing him next: It’s been too long buddy!

Jason, very confused: What is happening?

Nico, amused: It’s an Italian thing.

Leo, planting one on him: Hey bestie!

Jason, dubiously: What’s your excuse?

Leo beaming, shrugging: When in Rome.

[richmond-rex]

I'm not either of the anons but I agreed with both to an extent so I thought I'd share!

I think the Yorkists were probably not the most functional or cooperative people, and that definitely led to severe consequences for their dynasty, but I definitely get what the second anon meant about this being the norm rather than the singular exception. Various examples can be found in and beyond England of both dysfunctional or uncooperative families (I guess anon gave a few) and this applies on a personal *and* political level. Both aspects were often blurred together when it came to monarchies, after all. The Yorkists' defeat and elimination by the Tudors - or rather, Richard III's defeat Yorkist-supported-Henry Tudor - was more due to their particular circumstances than anything else. And while it resulted in the loss of their dynasty name, it could be argued that Henry VII's ascension was a reclaiming victory for Edwardian Yorkists after Richard's usurption. I guess the perspectives vary, and it makes them very interesting and entertaining to study, so there's that as well.

Another related issue, imo, is viewing the Yorkists as a collective. The second anon touched upon this, but the level of functionality or dysfunctuonality, both personally and politically, varied greatly under Richard Plantagenet, Edward IV and Richard III. Ultimately, apart from Clarence (and curiously, the case of Clarence could demonstrate a degree of functionality as well. He did betray his brother - twice - but from what we know, various other family members actively worked to reconcile the brothers, which aided Edward's return to power. And while Clarence's execution was undoubtedly caused personal issues in the family, it didn't result in any notable political conflict), the family was quite cooperative and politically aligned during Edward IV's reign. Richard was clearly beneficial to him on a political level, and cooperated with the Woodvilles a few times. Clarence was ultimately an exception with regards to a fairly united family. I don't know if it's a compliment to Edward IV or disparagement of Richard III - I guess it's both - but at the end of the day, the culpability for the fatal divide between the Yorkists stems from Richard III's actions after Edward's death. There's a very notable, marked difference between the two brothers - Clarence siding against his brother and the whole family working to reconcile them is very different from Richard III causing a complete schism of divided loyalties that led to his own demise. So I think acknowledging that individual difference is also important.

And Margaret of York is very interesting to me because she is the *only* one from their family with a position in another country. Her political interests would ultimately diverge massively from those of her family, and that should be taken into account when talking about her reaction to Richard III's ascension, Henry VII's kingship etc.

I hope this makes sense! The political clashes of that family are very fascinating.

Hello! This is truly an intriguing topic and I'm afraid I would have to be way more well-versed in the theory of medieval monarchy to form a better judgement, but here go some of my observations:

1. I wasn't counting Margaret of York when replying to the two last anons — when women made dynastic marriages such as Margaret's, their interests, most of the time, spoke of the dynasty they married into; Margaret wasn't responsible for the success of the Yorkist dynasty, though she might have been expected to help it (eg: military or financial help etc).

2. Although personal dramas were political in a hereditary monarchy in the middle ages, not every personal strife resulted in dynastic upheavals — see Richard II and John of Gaunt butting heads but otherwise cooperating, John of Bedford and Humphrey of Gloucester again butting heads but cooperating, Humphrey and his uncle Cardinal Beaufort having spectacular personal and political fights but never losing sight of upholding Henry VI's position. Of course, in a system as flawed as a hereditary monarchy crises happened often, but it can't be denied that Edward IV's blood relations reacted poorly to those. And it's not just that they had a fight and that ultimately made them vulnerable to enemies, in Clarence's case for example he effectively allied with his brother's enemies to put a rival dynasty on the throne. From a dynastic point of view, that went against all self-preservation principles.

3. I disagree that Clarence's execution didn't cause any political consequences. I think it's a bit misguided to solely blame the destruction of the house on Richard's feet. If Clarence had been alive, it's quite likely Richard would not have had the political capital to simply depose Edward's children in the way that he did. Of course, the conditions that led to Clarence's execution were extraordinary and in many ways, Edward was justified to sanction it, but that's exactly why they occupy that sort of 'dysfunctional' political family position — they didn't work very well together to make the dynasty succeed in the end.

4. I agree though that most historical analyses may put the emphasis on Edward IV's blood relatives a bit too much. His relatives by marriage seem to have been very effective in protecting the dynasty's interests though they were ultimately poorly equipped to stop the powerhouse that Richard of Gloucester had become by the time of Edward's death (and that happened with Edward's assent — ultimately, some of that may also be his fault, as it is generally debated).

5. Although Henry VII's ascension meant that the political interests of Edward IV's family and allies were vindicated, it didn't save the York dynasty from a symbolic death: never again the crown would be represented by the sun in splendour, the falcon-in-the-fetterlock, or the crowned white rose; never again would crown officials receive a livery collar made of sun-and-rose links; they would receive the Lancastrian S-S chains of office instead. Ironically, the crown would come to be represented by the Beaufort portcullis, the symbol of one of York's first and bitterest enemies. Henry VII's descendants would be portrayed holding red roses, but never a white one.

What I'm trying to say is: the York family was in no way extraordinary in dealing with personal dramas that also became political crises — history is full of examples of those. However, that doesn't change the fact that they were unable to make a dynasty last more than one (1) generation because of no external factor whatsoever but because of their own infighting. Clearly, the abrupt and violent way they rose to power explains a lot about the dynamics the family was able or unable to establish, so I'm not here to pass a moral judgement on them (more successful dynasties weren't in any way morally superior to them, either). This is just the academic consensus on the topic as far as I've seen, and until I'm more versed on the subject I'm afraid I'm unable to disagree.

I think the end it's just a matter of different perspectives.

[penguintransporter]

Daisies (a short “anyone you want it to be with” story) Part II

part I | masterlist

__

According to one of the many dictionaries around the world wide web, the word regret can be described as ‘a feeling of sadness about something sad or wrong, or about a mistake that one has made, and a wish that it could have been different and better’.

No human being is spared of the particular feeling of regret at some point in life, and as such, it exists to teach us new views and ways of doing things differently. After all, we, people are born to make mistakes, to repent and to carry the consequences of things we did or things we do, and in the end, we are made to learn from our experiences. 

Still, humans wouldn’t be humans if there weren’t exceptions, and he knows he is one of them.

As he sits up and reaches out for his watch that had been resting on the bedside table, he adds another thing to, what it felt like, a never-ending list of the things he is going to regret sooner or later. Like hypnotized, he finds himself staring at time as it slowly ticks away – each second feeling heavier than the one before, and it takes him a good, full minute before he blinks and looks down at her.

She has a questioning look on her face, but she doesn’t say anything as she pulls the cream-coloured sheet over her chest, which in return, exposes her smooth leg that he eagerly touched, just a handful minutes ago, but now, it makes him sick just to think about his own behaviour. He feels like an awful person for using her as a distraction; for giving in into yet another act of intimacy that meant very little once the moment of bliss and satisfaction left his body.

But, fight fire with fire, they say.

He gives her a small smile – just a lift of one of the corners of his mouth before he looks away and smoothly gets up to put his clothes back. 

Both his heart and his head were a mess. 

The mess he created with his own behaviour and poorly made decisions.

What are you doing?

He wasn’t supposed to be there, in this minimally furnished bedroom, sitting half-naked at the edge of this enormous bed.

He was supposed to be on the other side of the city, at the airport, just like everyone else who cared about her, and as he slips his t-shirt on, he cannot help but wonder if she even had the tiniest clue about why he couldn’t bring himself to be there? If she expected his absence?

A coward at his finest.

Truth to be told, and he can only be honest with himself when he thinks, he wanted to be there.

He wanted to be there to give her a hug, to wrap his arms around her and breathe in the faint traces of her perfume that seemed to be stuck in every item of clothing she owned – daisies-patterned or not. He wanted to be there for her, like he should, to whisper in her ear to take care of herself and to call him often; to visit whenever.

More than anything, he wanted to admit to her how much he cares, and even if his own idiocy caused her pain in the past, he wanted to be a selfish bastard one last time and ask for another chance for a future together. 

He wanted to tell her how much he wants her, every bit of her; how much he needs her.

How much he regrets that he let her slip away.

If only he had the guts to be there and to be honest with her for once. Maybe she would have changed her mind and stayed? Maybe she would have, just like in the movies, turned around just before boarding her flight? Maybe she would have ran into his arms and he was sure that he would have held her, never letting go.

If only.

He knows that he is being foolish.

To think that some empty words would change her mind and make her stay was the most ridiculous thing to do, because, how can he even begin to ponder that he deserves another chance? That he has any right to be selfish? 

Deep down he knows that he doesn’t, because, when she held her heart on her sleeve for him to take it, he ignored it, pushing it aside; toppling it over with force and shattering it.

Because all the others were more interesting, more exciting, more everything.

He trampled over the field of daisies, leaving a trail of broken stems behind.

How can he even think that some words would make them heal; make them flower again.

“You can stay, you know,” she speaks as she props herself on her elbow.

He shrugs a little, getting up. “I have some plans for later.”

No, he doesn’t.

She doesn’t say anything, but he knows that she’s watching him because he feels her eyes following his every move, but he finds it difficult to look back. Ashamed, disgusted and annoyed with himself – that’s how he feels because he knows how wrong it is to keep this farce of a relationship going; to keep hurting her, to use her as a distraction. Many men and women would have been more than happy to have someone as stunning as she is as their partner, and at one point in his life, he was one of them, but now, nothing about the relationship felt right.

Empty, shallow conversation that didn’t matter, curt answers, with silence filled moments, and occasional sex was all that was left out of them ever since he realised he was in love with someone else. Ever since he began to imagine some other lips kissing him, some other body in his arms, some other fingers crawling at his back; some other breaths and moans against his cheek – his relationship with the girl who watches him curiously as he dresses himself in a dimly lit room he once was familiar with, deteriorated.

Daisies.

When he finally leaves her apartment, clutching his phone in his hand, he isn’t surprised to see several missed calls and few unread text messages – all of which came from the same person – his teammate, and one of the people who tried to take off the blindfold he carried over his eyes.

As his eyes scan over the screen, each line of the text slaps him harder than the previous one.

You should have been here.

You owe her that much.

Are you really not going to show up?

And then, the last slap that knocks him out – figuratively – is the photograph.

Five people that he cared about so dearly, all huddled together as they grinned at the camera, but his eyes stay locked at one face in particular, and that’s when the regret for not being there overwhelms him even more than before.

Is this how it will end? 

Will their story end before it had the chance to begin?

Seeing their faces in that single picture; seeing her bright smile, and those eyes shadowed with sadness – he wishes that he was there as well, next to her, having his arms around his friends, pulling a face or telling a bad pun that would make them laugh before the flash goes off.

The watch on his hand ticks away slowly as he sits in his car, slamming the doors harder than he wanted to. Even if he starts to drive now, breaking every speed limit and ignoring every red light on his way, he wouldn’t be able to get there on time. 

He wouldn’t be able to get there on time to hug her, to say every word that was on his mind; to make her stay.

Like writing a poetry book, he adds another verse of regret, lined up perfectly – one after another as he backs his car onto the road, taking the opposite direction to the one that would take him to the airport.

He was late.

🌼

part III

Hope you liked the second part, there will be third part as well, if not tonight then mid-week. I had a really rough and busy patch at work last week so I wasn’t able to update. Make sure to check out my masterlist (pinned post), and to tell me what you think about this one. As before, I kinda want to tag people here because I think they are all amazing writers and mutuals.

@rosie7703, @emwritesfootball, @avenirdelight, @alexajanecollins, @afootballimagines, @footballerimaginess, @footballxwrites, @just-imagines, @donkeykai​

If I forgot someone, please message me and I will add you :)

[upennmanuscripts]

“Money without health is worse by a half”

Fifty-two discoveries from the BiblioPhilly project, No. 45/52

   Book of Hours for the Use of Noyon, Newark (DE), University of Delaware Library, MSS 95, item 31, unnumbered flyleaf i recto and fol. 83r (beginning of the Office of the Dead with miniature of the Raising of Lazarus)

A relatively recent arrival in the Philadelphia region, this late-fifteenth-century Book of Hours of the Use of Noyon contains an interesting series of provenance inscriptions that provide palpable insight into the manuscript’s multi-generational heirloom status in early modern France. As we shall see, one early owner’s poetic inscription, in particular, sheds light on a seemingly perennial human preoccupation: balancing health and financial well-being.

The manuscript was purchased by the University of Delaware in 2011 thanks to a gift in honor of the 50th anniversary of the University of Delaware Library Associates. Previously, the book had appeared at auction at Swann Galleries in New York (2 April 1987, No. 1432) and at Sotheby’s in London (Western Manuscripts and Miniatures, 5 December 2006, lot 45), and was subsequently offered by Phillip J. Pirages (Catalogue 60, 2011, cat. 444). There is also a  modern stock code on upper flyleaf 2 and a twentieth-century ownership inscription naming “Mr. Clancy” on upper flyleaf 2.

The book itself contains ten large miniatures, as well as five small inset miniatures and an historiated initial illustrating the Passion of Christ. As the Sotheby’s sale catalogue description of 2006 mentions, the miniatures are attributable to two distinct artists. The first was responsible for two miniatures only, those on folios 14v and 19r. His style is characterised by rotund, oval shaped faces with pale blue skin tones and a particular manner of creating texture by means of repeated, single-hair brushstrokes.

   MSS 95, item 31, folios 14r (beginning of the Gospel Lessons with miniature of Saint John on Patmos) and 19r (beginning of the Passion According to John with miniature of the Agony in the Garden)

The second, more accomplished artist was responsible for the remaining miniatures, which appear on folios 33r, 40r, 47r, 50v, 53r, 59v, 66v, and 83r. While his style could still be characterized as somewhat flat, it is more monumental that that of the first artist and betrays closer links to sophisticated Parisian models from the period. The borders accompanying these miniatures are also fully painted on shell gold backgrounds. Some, such as that surrounding the miniature of King David on folio 66v, consist of skillful three-dimensional floral designs.

   MSS 95, item 31, folios 33r (beginning of the Hours of the Virgin with miniature of the Annunciation) and 66v (beginning of the Penitential Psalms with miniature of King David)

Interestingly, it is this second artist who was responsible for the five small inset miniatures and one historiated initial for the Passion According to John. These however follow the introductory miniature by the first artist, and are partially found on the same quire. Such subdivision of labor even within one of the manuscript’s gatherings is not altogether unexpected; it is yet another example of close collaboration in the production of such objects.

The style of both artists’ miniatures and of the accompanying initials suggests that the manuscript was produced in Amiens, a few generations after the great flowering of illumination in the northern French city.1 The text is for a patron in Picardy, most likely one from Noyon: the Use conforms to those in other books known to be from Noyon, and the Litany includes Saint Médard (fol. 77r), who translated his see to Noyon from Vermand in 531.

Like many books of hours, this manuscript contains information added by its early owners. The book begins with a series of early, unnumbered flyleaves, which contain a sequence of inscriptions.

MSS 95, item 31, inscription on unnumbered flyleaf i recto: “Ces heures apartiennent à Madelaine, Camuce lesquellees m’ont esté donnée, par mon père ce sixième jour d’octobre, 1615, 1615” (“These hours belong to Madeleine Camuce, the which were given to me by my father on this, the sixth day of October, 1615, 1615”)

This is certainly Madeleine Le Camus, born around 1597 and still alive on 20 September 1667. Madeleine married a certain André Scotté, Seigneur of Velinghen, in 1616, so the book may have been a prenuptial gift from her father. Scotté was described as a “vice mayeur” (mayor), “procureur” (lawyer) and “notaire” (notary) in Boulogne-sur-Mer. The following inscription is written by Madeleine and André’s son, who had the same name as his father (André Scotté senior was dead by 1647).

MSS 95, item 31, inscription on unnumbered flyleaf ii recto: “Ces heures Appartiennent A, André Scotté. Lesquelles m’ont, Esté Donnez par Damoiselle, Magdelaine le Camus ma mère, Le jour de tous les saincts, 1657” (“These hours belong to André Scotté. The which were given to me by my mother, lady Madeleine Le Camus, on All Saints’ Day 1657”)

Thus a little bit of searching reveals that this André Scotté can be identified with canon André Scotté de Velinghen, confessor and superior of the Ursulines of Boulogne, who died in 1703 (a plaque commemorating him survives in the crypt of the Basilica of Notre-Dame in Boulogne). This identification in turn renders logical the following inscription, made by a resident of Boulogne at some point (judging by the penmanship) in the second half of the eighteenth century.

MSS 95, item 31, inscription on unnumbered recto iii: “Ce livre apartient, à Jean Marie Paque., M. Jean Haude, Boulogne sur mer; Ce livre apartient, à Jean Marie Paque, à Boulogne” (“This book belongs to Jean Marie Paque., M. Jean Haude, Boulogne-sur-Mer; This book belongs to Jean Marie Paque, in Boulogne”)

The second owner here may be identifiable with a certain Jean Marie Pacque, born in 1748 in Echinghen, just outside of Boulogne. The cancelled portion of the inscription above might perhaps be an earlier inscription by the same owner, or indeed by a relative of the same name. The upper writing does appear somewhat older and/or more childish in style. As is often the case, it is difficult to ascertain how this manuscript made the transition from such well-documented private ownership to the commercial book trade, though its presence in the Channel town of Boulogne would have made its transfer to England and its burgeoning book trade rather easy. Curiously, the book was rebound by the Geneva-based Hans Asper in the nineteenth century.

In any case, it is not the seventeenth- and eighteenth-century inscriptions which are of most interest to us historians of the Middle Ages and early modern period, but rather that first, beautifully refined inscription found on the recto of the first unnumbered flyleaf, which may well be the handiwork of the original owner. It consists of a quatrain written in a bâtarde script that should be dated to the turn of the sixteenth century. The elaborate first initial J and the fanciful ascenders and descenders, known as cadeaux or cadelles in contemporary French nomenclature, betray the hand of a well-trained individual, perhaps with professional a clerical background. The verses, partially in a first person voice, tell the reader that the book belongs to Jeanne, daughter of Jean Cinot, and begs that they not to steal the book, as without it Jeanne cannot say her prayers. Jean-Luc Deuffic has tentatively linked this Jean Cinot to a person of the same name who conducted a real estate transaction in Compiègne in 1448, which would be plausible in terms of the chronology of our book and Jeanne’s script. Deuffic has also remarked upon the pleading, first-person voice of the quatrain and linked it to others of a similar vein (some of which offer wine as recompense for returning the book!).

MSS 95, item 31, inscription on unnumbered flyleaf i recto: “Je suis à Jenne fille Jehan Cinot, vous priant nullement m’embler, En me rendant pairay le sot, car sans heures ne puys dieu prier” (“I belong to Jeanne, daughter of Jean Cinot, and I pray that you do not steal me, and thus render me the fool for without hours I cannot pray to God”)

However, not discussed until now is a rhyming couplet written lower on the page, in a smaller but similarly fine bâtarde hand. Probably inscribed at the same time and by the same person (i.e. by Jeanne), it makes a poetic case for the value of health over money. Such sentiments are strikingly à propos in our own time of pandemic and economic loss!

MSS 95, item 31, inscription on unnumbered flyleaf i recto: “Saincté sans argent, c’est demy maladie; Argent sans saincté, c’est pire la moitié” (“Heath without Money is Half of Sickness; Money without Health is Worse by Half”)

from WordPress http://bibliophilly.pacscl.org/money-without-health-is-worse-by-a-half/

[mygalfriday]

basically: crowley has tattoos and every few centuries, aziraphale discovers a new one. features pining crowley and oblivious aziraphale ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

{ao3}

i can’t say the words, so i wrote you into my verse

i. chest; greece, 615.

Aziraphale has a particular fondness for the Greeks - most especially for their liberal use of ingredients like honey and olive oil. In a little room he’d rented for the night right in the heart of Athens, he sighs happily to himself as he gazes down at the simple, delicious spread on the table before him. Dolmadakia stuffed with ground lamb and rice, vegetable soup seasoned with vinegar and herbs, and feta wrapped in phyllo pastry, drizzled with honey.

Breathing in deeply the rich smells of his meal, he whispers a prayer of thanks and reaches eagerly for his plate. A spoonful of grape skin, lamb, and rice halfway to his mouth, he startles at a succession of rapid knocks at the door. With no one around to see, he allows himself a moment to visibly deflate as he slowly lowers the spoon back to his plate.

“Bugger,” he mutters, casting a mournful glance at the steam still rising from his food. He flinches at the sound of a palm slapping impatiently against his door and musters his patience. “One moment, please!”

A low, familiar voice replies dryly from the corridor. “Take your time, angel.”

Aziraphale stands so quickly his chair scrapes across the floor. “Crowley?”

He hasn’t seen Crowley since they shared oysters in Rome nearly a century ago and Aziraphale can’t deny the idea of seeing him again is more than a little pleasing. He pauses briefly before he opens the door, struggling to rein in the delighted smile on his face. There aren’t exactly guidelines for the sort of relationship he has with Crowley but Aziraphale is fairly certain he shouldn’t be so happy to see his natural enemy.

Honestly, he chides himself. Imagine if Gabriel saw you.

Even with that sobering thought in mind, he can barely keep his facial expression in check as he swings open the door. Crowley stands draped against the doorframe like he’s forgotten he has bones to hold him up. Suppressing an unexpected wave of fondness, Aziraphale forces a scowl.

“What are you doing-” He pauses, taking in the droop of Crowley’s short hair, the sweat beading on his brow, the way he hasn’t bothered to adjust the glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. Just as he’s about to reprimand him for showing up already drunk, Aziraphale spots the bright red stain darkening the shoulder of his linen tunic. He breathes out, horrified. “Crowley, you’re bleeding.”

Wearily, Crowley arches an eyebrow. “You don’t say.”

Aziraphale huffs. “Get in here.”

Crowley puts up only a token protest as Aziraphale ushers him inside and shuts the door, sinking into the vacated seat at the table and propping his injured arm up beside the abandoned plate. As Aziraphale hovers anxiously behind him, Crowley leans in and sniffs curiously. “What, no apple?”

Watching blood seep into the tablecloth, Aziraphale stifles a noise of concern behind pursed lips. “They’re out of season.” He snaps his fingers and a bundle of medical supplies appears on the table. “Let me see, please.”

Crowley sighs, as though terribly inconvenienced, and shrugs out of his tunic. “S’just a scratch.”

If that were true, he wouldn’t have shown up out of the blue, weakened and in pain, to knock relentlessly on Aziraphale’s door. Rebuttal on the tip of his tongue, Aziraphale pauses as his eyes skitter from the supplies spread out on the table to Crowley’s exposed chest. To his shame, the first thing he notices is not the deep gash cutting a bold line across Crowley’s shoulder and bicep but rather the black ink scrawled down his left pectoral.

Aziraphale blinks as it slowly dawns on him exactly what he’s looking at. Crowley has a tattoo. Well, another one anyway. Unlike the small serpent curled just beneath his temple, this one takes up far more space. It’s a sword, strikingly similar to the one Aziraphale used to carry before he gave it away all those years ago. Instead of flames enveloping the blade, however, a snake curls sinuously around the weapon like a lover. A slender, forked tongue brushes the hilt of the sword.

All of this takes mere seconds of study but Aziraphale flicks his gaze away guiltily anyway. Swallowing, he redirects his attention to the gash on Crowley’s shoulder and hopes the demon hadn’t noticed his stare. Luckily for him, Crowley is far too preoccupied with commandeering the wine Aziraphale had left out.

Leaning close to study the ragged cut seeping blood onto the tablecloth, Aziraphale tuts disapprovingly. “What happened?”

Crowley shrugs. “Wrong place, wrong time. Bloody Thessalonica.” He grimaces, watching Aziraphale reach for the antiseptic. “Can’t you just-” He waggles his fingers, clearly attempting to convey an angelic miracle.

“Not before I clean it.” Aziraphale frowns, prodding at the wound and ignoring Crowley’s answering hiss. “If it’s already infected, closing the cut won’t do you any favors.” Without looking up, he pushes the wine toward Crowley. “Drink up.”

As Crowley drinks deeply from the bottle, Aziraphale takes his arm and makes more noises of disapproval over the wound but it’s mostly for show. A weak attempt to distract himself from the warmth of Crowley’s skin beneath his palm and the mystery of his strange new tattoo. Even as he cleans the gash thoroughly, his gaze wanders curiously back to Crowley’s chest. The snake, wrapped seductively around the sword, seems to be staring back at him.

He clears his throat. “Couldn’t you simply heal yourself?”

“If I could, I’d have done it, wouldn’t I?” Glaring into the middle distance, Crowley mutters something under his breath about stupid kids getting themselves into trouble and would have looked bad on the paperwork. Catching sight of Aziraphale’s soft expression, he scowls. “Oh, just shut up and work your magic, angel.”

Smothering a fond smile - mostly because he has a feeling it would only irritate Crowley to see it - Aziraphale sets aside the bloodied cloth and presses a gentle hand over the wound. Crowley stiffens at his touch and as Aziraphale begins to will muscle and skin to knit itself back together again, he grimaces. In an effort to distract him from the sting, Aziraphale finally address the elephant in the room. “So…that’s new.”

“Hmm?” Looking dazed, Crowley follows his gaze to the tattoo prominently displayed on his chest and grunts. “Oh. S’a tribute.”

Aziraphale hums, watching Crowley’s skin heal over. The gash disappears and with a little nudge, so does the scar left behind. Shiny, unblemished skin is all that remains. Unable to help himself, he strokes a fingertip over his handiwork and feels Crowley shudder beneath his touch. He pulls away as if burned, suitably chastised. “A tribute?” He asks, hoping Crowley doesn’t notice the flush of his cheeks. “To what?”

With an evasive shrug, Crowley leans back in his chair to examine his healed shoulder and says, “My origins, of course.” Before Aziraphale can prod any further, he nods his thanks and reaches for the wine once more. “Are you going to share that bloody pastry or what?”

ii. ribcage; versailles, 1785.

Strolling the gardens of the Trianon Palace, a copy of The Sorrows of Young Werther tucked under his arm, Aziraphale breathes in the warm summer air and allows himself a stolen moment to miss the Garden. Standing in the twilight, surrounded on all sides by trees and sweet-smelling wildflowers, the sound of a trickling waterfall in the distance, he can almost imagine he’s back there again. Standing guard over the Almighty’s beloved humans and doing his best not to laugh at any of the serpent’s jokes.

Speaking of the devil himself…

He freezes, grip tightening briefly around the spine of his book, as he spots Crowley wading out of the stream just ahead of him. He isn’t surprised to see him, of course. They’ve both been guests of the Queen for the past several weeks, dining on roast duck and swilling champagne, skirting the edges of her extravagant revelries and catching each other’s eyes from across the room.

While Aziraphale had come to Versailles in hopes of softening the violence of the revolution he can smell coming, Crowley had insisted he was only there for the parties. Aziraphale isn’t entirely convinced but he doesn’t press the issue. It’s rather nice to have a familiar face around.

So no, it isn’t surprise he feels as he watches Crowley emerge bare and dripping out of the stream and onto dry ground. The setting sun casts him in warm shades of red and orange, setting his copper hair alight and doing something rather spectacular to his eyes; turning them a molten shade of amber that’s almost luminescent. Droplets of water glisten on his chest, catching the sun just enough to appear like glowing drops of light. Unmoving, his traitorous human heart seemingly lodged in his throat, Aziraphale fancies for a moment he might be looking at Crowley before he Fell - ethereal and beautiful, bathed in the light of heaven.

Not surprise at all, he thinks, wrenching his gaze away. Something else entirely; something he has not the courage to examine properly.

Aziraphale unclenches his fingers around the binding of his von Goethe, letting out a slow, uneven breath. Pasting on a smile, he forces his numb legs to move in the direction of Crowley rummaging on the ground for his clothes. His old friend hasn’t noticed him yet, fastening his trousers and running a slender hand through his damp hair. He scans the ground, clearly looking for something, and mutters aha when he finds his tunic drooping from the low-hanging branch of a nearby tree.

As Crowley lifts an arm to snatch his tunic from the clutches of a wych elm, Aziraphale’s gaze catches and holds on the sight of black lettering inked down his ribcage. A few more quiet steps and he’s just close enough to make out what it says:

doubt that the stars are fire

doubt that the sun doth move

doubt truth be a liar

Hamlet had written those very words to Ophelia. Crowley pulls his tunic over his head, effectively hiding the tattoo from Aziraphale’s curious gaze but not before he notices the final verse is missing. But never doubt I love. He might have wondered why Crowley omitted that particular line but on reflection, it’s easy enough to understand. Love is hardly a demon’s territory but doubt? Aziraphale imagines Crowley must be old friends with the concept by now.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley says, not even glancing at him. As if he’d known he was there all along. “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have waited.”

Aziraphale clears his throat, fighting back a blush at having been caught staring. “Oh?”

“Mm.” Crouching to fetch his boots from a patch of wild lavender, Crowley glances over his shoulder with a smirk. “Tempting an angel to skinny dip? Would have gotten a commendation for that one.”

Grateful to the ever-fading light for hiding his pink cheeks, Aziraphale scowls. “Very funny.”

Crowley snorts, sinking gracefully into the grass to pull on his shoes. “There’s a masquerade tonight,” he says, brushing a smudge of dirt from the supple leather of his boot. “You going?”

Eyeing him uncertainly, Aziraphale admits, “I hadn’t decided. Why? Up to no good again?”

“Oi, I can’t help it the whole ‘let them eat cake’ thing was taken out of context like that. The humans did that without any help from me.” Crowley lifts his head, his gaze softened and imploring without his dark glasses to hide his eyes. Aziraphale wonders if he knows he’s very nearly pouting. “Come on, it’ll be boring without you. Just standing about fending off Lamballe and watching Her Majesty make eyes at von Fersen the Younger all night.”

Shifting uneasily, Aziraphale darts his gaze out over the trickling stream and the forest beyond it, unwilling to let on that he had decided to go the moment Crowley had asked it of him. It just wouldn’t do to reveal how eager he is to spend time with the demon. “And you’ll behave yourself?”

“Merely a spectator.” Crowley eyes him soberly, placing a lofty hand over his heart. “On Satan’s honor.”

With a huff, Aziraphale relents, “Oh, fine. But only because they’ll be serving those scrumptious little tarts with the raspberry filling.”

It isn’t technically a lie. He does have quite a soft spot for Marie’s decadent taste in pastries.

Crowley grins at him and busies himself with pulling on his other boot, looking as pleased as though he’d accomplished some sort of temptation. As if Aziraphale had ever been tempted to do anything but what he’d asked in the first place. Aziraphale doesn’t mind. Letting him believe he’s getting away with something is far better than the alternative.

Hovering over his shoulder, Aziraphale lets his gaze linger briefly on the loose-fitting tunic Crowley wears, damp and clinging to his skin in some places - hiding another of those tattoos he seems so fond of. He bites his lip. “I thought you preferred the funny ones.”

In the middle of tucking his trouser leg into his boot, Crowley stills. His jaw clenches so tightly a muscle in his cheek twitches. He looks away, refusing to meet Aziraphale’s bewildered stare. For a long moment, he almost believes Crowley isn’t going to say anything at all but after a tense beat in which Aziraphale wants to shove his foot into his mouth, he finally replies. “Still do.”

He offers no other explanation and Aziraphale hasn’t the nerve to question him further, watching in silence as Crowley climbs to his feet and brushes the grass from his clothes. He runs his fingers through his hair one more time and turns on his heel, striding away. Aziraphale stares after him, wondering if perhaps Crowley had changed his mind about the masquerade after all.

Silently admonishing himself for opening his mouth in the first place, he almost misses the way Crowley pauses and inclines his head. “Come on, angel,” he calls over his shoulder. “Before they run out of those tarts.”

iii. ankle; soho, 1956.

Dante’s Inferno is in the wrong place. Someone - possibly a customer, or possibly (probably) Crowley - had moved it into the non-fiction section. Balancing a stack of wayward poetry in one hand, Aziraphale reaches for the slim little volume, intending to stick it back where it belongs, when the ruckus nearby reaches a level verging on unholy.

Well you said you was high-classed, well that was just a lie…

He sighs, leaving Inferno where it is and dropping the rest of the poetry as well. Concentrating on inventory when one has a demon only one room away, warbling drunkenly along with the music playing on the telly is quite simply impossible. Dusting off his hands, Aziraphale abandons the task altogether and moves toward the source of the noise.

Crowley had shown up this afternoon with a bottle of wine and some of those indecently expensive chocolate biscuits from Waitrose that Aziraphale likes so much, using them as bribery to slink inside and commandeer the sofa. From what Aziraphale can discern by the sheer noise, Crowley had also taken the initiative to move the small television - kept mainly for his use anyway - downstairs from Aziraphale’s tiny flat.

Ducking his head into the back room only confirms his suspicions. Sprawled across the sofa as though he has no control over his own limbs, Crowley lounges with a bottle of wine dangling from his fingertips as he stares at the television and croons along with the man on the screen. His bare feet wiggle on the coffee table, as though he can’t keep them still. He isn’t the only one, apparently. The audience on the telly is going wild. A few of the young ladies seem to be having some sort of fit.

Aziraphale really can’t see what all the fuss is about. Though as he watches the dark-haired young man onscreen gyrate his hips to scandalized applause, he has to wonder if he and Crowley had ever met. “Must you listen to that racket quite so loudly?”

Looking well past tipsy and on his way to belligerent, Crowley glances up with a frown. He shifts to look at Aziraphale properly and one trouser leg shifts just enough to reveal a flash of his ankle. And another tattoo. A feather of all things, glittering white and silver as it curves and curls delicately over the fine bones of Crowley’s ankle.

Aziraphale stares at it, momentarily hypnotized.

“Oi, he’s the next big thing, I’ll have you know.” Crowley grins broadly, sudden and sharp. “I’ve made sure of it.”

Aziraphale scoffs, forcing his eyes away from the tattoo. “This newfangled…bebop you’re so terribly fond of is nothing more than a flash in the pan, my dear.” He steps around the coffee table and takes the bottle from Crowley’s slack fingers, miracling a pair of glasses instead. He pours them both a generous measure, pointedly refusing to ask the question he wants to ask.

Why a white feather? Why not black?

He can only assume it must be another tribute - perhaps to who he was before he Fell - and bringing it up might spoil Crowley’s lazy good humor. As curious as he is, Aziraphale isn’t willing to risk it. As disruptive as Crowley’s visits tend to be, he prefers them infinitely to the ringing silence when he leaves.

The flash of delicate white at Crowley’s slender ankle lingers in the corner of his eye but he does not give in to the temptation to look at it again. Instead, he settles on the armchair across from the sofa and sips primly at his wine. Gaze fixed determinedly on the television screen, he says, “Mark my words, Crowley. In ten years, no one will even remember this Presley fellow’s name.”

Crowley squawks, laughter in his voice as he sits up to argue with him. His trouser leg shifts again, hiding his ankle - and the feather - from view once more. Aziraphale, caught up in the easy familiarity of bickering with Crowley, forgets all about it. Really.

iv. lower back; dowling estate, 2013

Mrs. Dowling’s plants look nothing like the ones in Crowley’s flat, despite Aziraphale’s best efforts. He pokes at a lackluster Russian Sage and tries to remember the tips Crowley had given him, carefully ignoring the more ominous ones such as don’t show the little bastards any weakness. As far as he can tell, he’s doing all the things he’s supposed to do but it isn’t quite enough.

Aziraphale sighs mournfully. He hadn’t been very good at looking after the last garden he was in charge of so he has no idea what made Crowley think the role of gardener would suit him. Luckily for the roses, he isn’t above a miracle or two to keep them from wilting. “Not to worry,” he murmurs to a particularly ill-looking bloom. He presses a fingertip to the drooping petals, watching as the color brightens. “Everything is going to be just fine.”

“You can’t make me!”

Less startled than he should be by the childish outburst, Aziraphale glances wearily across the yard as Warlock hurdles past at speed. He glances over his shoulder, as if to make sure his nanny is still following, before he takes off around the side of the guest house and disappears. Sure enough, Nanny Ashtoreth isn’t far behind. Aziraphale smothers a grimace the moment he spots Crowley stalking across the grounds.

Their little charge has been particularly…hellish today and Aziraphale suspects Crowley of harboring illicit fantasies of luring the boy out to the pool and pushing him in. Normally perfectly composed and impeccably dressed - not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in her jacket - Nanny Ashtoreth looks a bit rattled this afternoon. Hair askew and curls going limp, she looks quite simply murderous. Jacket long since abandoned, her expensive blouse has come untucked and the normally starched collar is rumpled beyond hope.

Hissing irritably about little boys who refuse to take a sodding nap, Nanny Ashtoreth pauses to scoop up a Loki action figure left abandoned in the middle of the yard. The rumpled blouse slips momentarily up her back and that’s when Aziraphale spots it. Just there, at the small of Crowley’s back - a little dove with its wings spread in flight.

Hidden behind the roses, Aziraphale allows himself a moment to stare.

What does a demon possibly need with a dove tattoo? A symbol of peace and hope is hardly Crowley’s forte. It is a lovely depiction, though. The bird is plump and pure white, completely perfect. It reminds Aziraphale of the ones he so often liked to use in his magic tricks when he practiced. Crowley had always rolled his eyes but he’d never said no to a demonstration. Perhaps he had a soft spot for the creatures after all.

And then Nanny straightens, toy clutched in an angry fist, and the tattoo disappears beneath fine silk once more. Aziraphale blinks, feeling his cheeks heat as he glances away a moment too late. She spots him lurking behind the roses and stifles a smirk. “Brother Francis,” she mutters, giving a stiff nod. “How’s the garden?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale says, too rattled to bother with the accent. “Just…pipping.”

Eyeing a drooping azalea Aziraphale had missed in his earlier miracling, Nanny Ashtoreth adjusts her sunglasses and fluffs her hair. With a dainty sniff, she leans in close and purses carefully painted lips against soft pink petals. Aziraphale stares, bewildered. And then her lips curl back in a vicious snarl and she hisses ferociously. The azalea trembles and quakes. Aziraphale imagines if it had a mouth, it would have shrieked.

“Crowl - Nanny Ashtoreth, please!” Aziraphale shoos her away, patting the flower with consoling fingertips and refusing to admit that the petals do seem to have perked up a bit. “I refuse to garden with fear.”

She shrugs. “Suit yourself, Brother Francis.”

With one last warning glower at the azaleas over the rim of her glasses, she turns on her heel and marches away after the missing Antichrist. Aziraphale turns away from her retreating back, forcefully shoving thoughts of doves and nannies far from his mind. “Hush now,” he says, crooning at the quivering flora around him. “The wily old serpent is gone, I promise.”

v. hipbone; mayfair, 2019

Despite the certainty that he would never admit even to the Almighty that he had ever imagined such things in the first place, Aziraphale quietly admits to himself that actually being with Crowley is not quite what he’d thought it would be. It’s far, far better.

Even in his fondest imaginings -  succumbed to only when alone and well into his cups - he had been sure any encounter would leave him feeling at once deliciously fulfilled and vaguely guilty about falling into temptation. And the first part is certainly true. Everything about falling into bed with Crowley had been delicious; more than any delicacy he’s ever dined on. But Aziraphale is quite relieved to discover not a smidgen of guilt. With Crowley’s arms around him and the soft, sweet sound of his even breathing, what on earth and in heaven is there to feel guilty about?

Head on Crowley’s stomach, Aziraphale hums a few bars of Moonlight Serenade and tries to come up with some other way to celebrate their first night of freedom from Above and Below. Happily, nothing else at all comes to mind. Nothing else could possibly compare. He turns his head, nuzzling Crowley’s belly.

Above him, Crowley hisses out a content sigh.

Aziraphale bites back a smile, opening his eyes and blinking at the ink etched neatly into Crowley’s hipbone. A series of numbers and decimal points listed seemingly at random. He lifts a hand and traces a fingertip over it cautiously. Quietly delighting in the knowledge that after years of turning away and clenching his hands, he can reach out and touch whenever he likes.

At this point in the evening, there isn’t truly a bit of Crowley that he hasn’t touched yet but he’d been careful so far not to pay particular attention to any of his tattoos despite his fascination with them. It had always seemed to be a subject Crowley broached with reluctance in the past and he hadn’t wanted to be the cause of Crowley pulling away from him.

Now, he feels Crowley tense beneath him as he finally musters the courage to ask, “What’s this?”

“S’a tattoo.”

Aziraphale holds in a sigh. “Yes, dear. I can see that. But of what?”

“Coordinates.”

“You’re being terribly enigmatic.” Aziraphale prods a fingertip into Crowley’s bony hip and hides a smile when Crowley swats at him weakly. “Coordinates to what? Or where, rather?”

Crowley heaves a put-upon sigh and avoids his gaze, staring resolutely at the ceiling. “Home.”

Realizing he won’t be getting any more hints from Crowley, Aziraphale begins to mentally review every location he can think of. Hell? Definitely not. Eden had never really been a home to either of them. His flat here in Mayfair is hardly lived-in. If he thinks back far enough, he can remember a little villa in Spain that Crowley had been relatively fond of…

“Oh, for someone’s sake - I can hear you thinking.” Crowley groans, shifting beneath him. “Don’t make me say it, angel.”

Keeping his hand curled over the tattoo on Crowley’s hip, Aziraphale lifts his head with a baffled frown. “Say what?”

Crowley clenches his jaw so tightly Aziraphale can almost hear his teeth grinding together. A high spot of color appears on his cheekbones and he breathes out through his nose, nostrils flaring. Just when Aziraphale is about to apologize for prying and attempt a go at kissing him back into good humor, Crowley growls softly and admits, “The bookshop, all right? It’s coordinates to the bloody bookshop.”

Home.

Aziraphale stares at him, utterly poleaxed. “You-” A sudden thought occurs to him, even as warmth floods his veins like heavenly sunlight. “The sword and the snake-”

Crowley sighs. “You. Me. Our beginning.”

“The Hamlet verse-”

“You liked that one.” Crowley sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and admits with a mumble to the ceiling, “Liked me for making it a hit.”

“I liked you anyway.” Aziraphale hesitates, thirsty for answers. “The dove?”

Crowley huffs and mutters, “You and your bloody magic tricks.”

Burying a smile in the warmth of Crowley’s flat belly, Aziraphale murmurs, “Knew you liked them.”

“Don’t.” Crowley snarls vehemently, then confesses softly, “Like you though.”

“Yes, I’m beginning to suspect.” Aziraphale tilts his head up just in time to see Crowley roll his eyes. “And…the feather on your ankle?”

Peering down at him in exasperation, Crowley asks, “You really don’t know?”

Aziraphale gazes back at him, feeling inexplicably bashful. “A tribute?”

A smirk curls Crowley’s tempting mouth. “Something like that.”

Swallowing tightly, Aziraphale ducks his head and stares with stinging eyes at the coordinates etched into Crowley’s lovely skin. All these years - centuries - of silent yearning, sure that a demon couldn’t possibly be capable of love, let alone with an angel - and Crowley has been harboring his own affections in plain sight. He has burned right alongside Aziraphale and instead of being a coward like him and saying nothing or saying words he thought might scare Aziraphale away, he’d made his body a love letter written in permanent ink. A monument to a longing never to be acknowledged, nor erased.

“Crowley,” he breathes, overwhelmed. So in love he wonders how this earthly vessel can bear it. “You soft-hearted serpent.”

Lifting his head from his pillow just enough to glower, Crowley threatens, “I will push you right out of this bed, Aziraphale. Don’t think I won’t.”

Aziraphale beams, lowering his mouth to the bookshop coordinates and sealing them with a kiss. Peering at Crowley through his lashes and pleased to find his annoyed expression utterly soft once more, he admits, “I love you awfully, you know.”

“Yeah.” Crowley sighs, dropping his head back to his pillow. His fingers begin to sift through his white-blonde hair and Aziraphale leans into the gentle touch with all the eagerness of six thousand years. “I know.”

vi. hands; south downs, 2025

The scent of freshly brewed Earl Grey and warm scones fills the breakfast nook as Aziraphale settles into the chair across from Crowley. With the windows open, the fragrance of Crowley’s prize begonias wafts through on the morning breeze, along with the sound of little Liam James down the road romping about with his new puppy.

Across the table, Crowley appears half-asleep as he scrolls through his mobile. Still in his black silk pajamas and his hair sleep-rumpled, he doesn’t appear to notice Aziraphale’s fond study of the pillow crease on his flushed cheek. “Any plans for the day, my dear?”

Crowley reaches for a scone slathered in cream. “Just threatening the wisteria.”

“Go easy on the poor things - it isn’t their fault we’ve had so much rain recently.” Aziraphale sniffs when Crowley only eyes him balefully, unmoved. “At least try being nice first.”

“And reward their bad behavior?” Crowley scoffs, stirring his tea. “I don’t think so.”

In the middle of reaching for another scone, Aziraphale doesn’t reply, distracted by the brand new ink on his ring finger. It still startles him every time he catches a glimpse of black out of the corner of his eye but in the best possible way. Like browsing his bookshelves and finding a splendid first edition he’d forgotten he had. He bites his lip, twisting his hand this way and that to admire it. “Are you certain it suits me?”

Crowley pauses mid-sip of Earl Grey and the smug glint in his eye is entirely indecent. “Like nothing else, angel.”

He smiles, his heart fluttering like a mad thing in his chest as Crowley strokes his bare foot over Aziraphale’s calf beneath the table. “And yours, my dear,” he says, gazing tenderly at the matching eternity symbol winding its way elegantly around Crowley’s ring finger. “I do believe it’s my favorite so far.”

“Yeah?” Crowley leans back in his chair, teacup cradled in his palm and his foot making a scandalous path up Aziraphale’s leg. The morning sun slanting through the open window makes his eyes glow amber. A slow, wide grin curls his mouth and Aziraphale thinks fleetingly, joyfully: husband.  “Mine too.”