#neither of the frogs came out quite like i thought they would BUT YOU KNOW WHAT. AT LEAST THEY //DO// LOOK LIKE FROGS

[whoslaurapalmer]

second frog!!!!!!!! so now we have ✨️✨️mr. jeremiah johnson jumpson and his partner, THE MELODIOUS ONE✨️✨️

they came out a little squished.........but I really do love the pink and green yarn 🧶 I think I'd like to get proper eyes for them both though!!! might photograph better with big round eyes. and now I can work on their picnic setup!!! not quite sure what scale would look good against them re: like dollhouse furniture? i think 1:12 but i cannot find a cute green and white tea set that i like in that size. so I think I will at least.....make them a basket myself.........

I think THE MELODIOUS ONE is a wizard frog......everything they say is a little magical 🎵 mr. jumpson owns a book store!!! 📚

[strwbrryeyes]

𖦹°｡⋆ haikyuu boys as my breakup playlist

⟡ featuring: suna, oikawa, tsukishima, atsumu

⟡ cw: angst, idk still bad at these

⟡ an: i found my old breakup playlist from three years ago and took inspiration from that so these songs are old lol. writing this was silly because im in a loving relationship but it was like i felt all the pain of a breakup again </3

⟡ part two, part three

⟡ suna rintarou: you broke me first - tate mcrae

suna would be the one to break things off with you. when you first started dating he genuinely thought he loved you but as time went on and he became more distant, you started to feel like he was losing feelings for you so you asked him about it. in his words, "i think you were just the first girl to give me attention after my last relationship" and "im not ready for a relationship". a week later, he starts talking about all the girls that have come to him after the breakup and started talking about his hookups to you. this bothered you and hurt you deeply so you decided to cut things off with him completely and he was not a fan of this. so he tried everything to try to get you to talk to him again saying that he misses you and that he wants to get back together. you couldn't care less though, he's already broken your heart too many times for you not to notice his pattern of wanting your attention just to make you jealous or upset. in the end, it actually did end up hurting him and made him realize what he lost. he knew he fucked up but there's no going back anymore.

⟡ oikawa tooru: over breakfast - ellise

it's been a few months since oikawa left for argentina. it's been hard for the both of to be apart for so long and in completely different timezones. you could feel the connection fading but neither of you wanted to admit it because you both loved each other so much. but the longer you guys try to keep the relationship afloat, the more frequent you end up arguing over text or facetime. but you both decided that it could be something to figure out when oikawa visits for the holidays. well, the holidays come around and you finally have time to see each other and talk in person. from the moment oikawa entered your apartment, you both knew it was over. you could tell so many things have changed over the course of the last few months but instead of facing it, you just decide to spend one more night together just to have one final time to say that you tried. it was bittersweet and it hurt a lot but you didn't want the night to end. maybe you could fix this over night? in the morning everything will be better and you can set aside your differences! unfortunately, that morning, nothing had changed and you and oikawa finally came to terms with the fact that maybe you two just maybe weren't meant to be.

⟡ tsukishima kei: high definition - waterparks

when tsukishima was still part of the sendai frogs, he traveled a lot. it's not like he was off in another country like some of his old teammates and rivals, no, you lived with him. even though you two had been dating for quite some time by this point, tsukishima still had trouble expressing his love for you. he tended to push you away whenever he was stressed even though the one thing he wanted the most was your comfort and loving. he was just worried he would end up snapping at you and making you hate him. he didn't know that you'd end up upset with him regardless. you loved him so much but you don't know how long you could going on like this. i mean come on! tsukishima was always away for volleyball matches and even when he's home...it's like he's still not even there. tsukishima knew that you were starting to slip away from him so one day he sat you down and explained how he was feeling and it was finally then that you understood why he acted the way he did. you tried protesting his decision to break up with you but he kept insisting it was for the better. by the next week tsukishima had moved out leaving you alone in the once shared apartment, wishing and hoping he'd come back one day.

⟡ miya atsumu: better off - ariana grande

everyone knew that atsumu could be hot headed most of the time when it came to volleyball but what they didn't know is that it would sometimes affect your relationship with him. much like tsukishima, he would close himself off from you whenever he was mad at the world or whatever else there is that could make him upset. it was starting to get tiring for you. you felt like you had to walk on egg shells around him just so he wouldn't snap at you (wether he meant to or not- his mind would always fog up). towards the end of your relationship, you could feel yourself start to get numb in regards to your feelings towards atsumu. atsumu couldn't really tell at this point that you were losing hope for the relationship. if anything he thought everything was normal but that was only because half of the time he was too much into his own thoughts to notice any flaws between the two of you. it wasn't until he came home one day after an away game on the other side of japan and found that all of your stuff was gone along with you, that he realized nothing is what it used to be. he found a note from you that explained that you weren't happy in the relationship anymore and that you felt trapped. you also stated that you hope he figures out his issues and that you'll always be there for him if he needs but that right now you just needed space. atsumu spent that night crying and angry at himself for letting your relationship get to this point.

[hinnyfied]

Penance

For @thethreebroomsticksfic Weasley Week!

Prompt: Percy

For @lanaturnergetup and @somesunlitdays, you are two peas in a pod 😘 🫛

Read below or on AO3!

Percy twirled the last few peas around his plate, watching them roll about to avoid looking up, lest he catch his mother’s puffy red eyes and think of Fred or see the fury in Ron’s and be devoured by guilt once more.

He was no fool. He had known – even as he made the choice – that it would take a lot more than a change of heart and a show of bravery to undo three years of damage and regain his family’s trust. But it did not make it any easier to sit at the old, notched table of his childhood home, surrounded by the people who had been at the receiving end of his monstrous betrayal.

Everyone finished their meal in relative quiet, brief smalltalk breaking out here and there. Charlie and Ginny cleared the plates, ignoring their mother’s protests and insisting she stay seated. Ginny took Percy’s plate, her jaw clenching when he thanked her.

“I was thinking about checking up on Grimmauld Place tomorrow,” Harry said to Father. “See what the damage is.”

“I suppose it’s time,” he answered heavily, pulling his glasses off and massaging his temple.

“You shouldn’t go alone though,” Bill cut in. “There’s still plenty of Death Eaters unaccounted for, and they’ll be expecting you to turn up there.”

“Surely they’ve all fled the country by now,” said Ron.

“Some of them, certainly,” said Father, “Others, however–”

“Want their revenge,” Harry said darkly, stabbing the last pea on his plate frustratedly. Perhaps, like Percy, he was wondering if he’d ever be free of it all.

“Well, we’ll go with you, of course,” Hermione said, referring to herself and Ron.

Bill and Father insisted upon joining as well.

“I can come, if it’s extra wands you need,” Percy blurted, eager to make himself useful (keep himself busy more like).

“Sure, thanks,” Harry said, smiling stiffly. It wasn’t warm or enthusiastic acceptance, but it wasn’t a dismissal. That would do for now.

Ron flung a disgruntled look his best friend’s way. Percy ignored it.

“So what is this Grimmauld Place?” Percy asked. It tickled the back of his brain in that faintly familiar sort of way, though he couldn’t quite place it.

“It belonged to Sirius Black,” Father explained. “We used it as headquarters for the Order. It was breached by Death Eaters last fall, so there’s bound to be some damage to take care of and protections to reinstate.”

It came flooding back to Percy, the familiarity of the name. It had been Yaxley spouting off angrily to Thicknesse after the Ministry break in.

‘I had them. I HAD THEM RIGHT AT GRIMMAULD PLACE. The Mudblood gave me the slip, the little bitch.’

Percy looked at Hermione, guilt creeping in once more.

They made their plans to leave for London in the morning. Shortly after, everyone was off to bed.

Percy didn’t sleep well that night, his dreams plagued by phantom cries of Muggle-born wizards and witches, pleading for their families and their wands. He awoke early with a start, so early the sun had only just begun to rise.

He knew going back to sleep was out of reach, so he got up and went to his window, gazing out over the garden, where he was surprised to see a dark-haired figure sat at the edge of the pond. As though he were beckoned, Percy pulled on a jumper, slid on his shoes, and made his way outside.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Harry asked as Percy approached him.

“Not really, no.”

“Me neither.”

Percy looked out over the pond, a chorus of frogs greeting his ears as a pair of sparrows flitted just across the dark, rippling surface. He spent countless hours out here as a boy. As with all things from his childhood, it brought him both comfort and sadness to return.

“Listen, Harry,” Percy said, mustering the courage to say aloud the thought that had been pecking at him since last night’s dinner. “I understand if you don’t want me to come today – to your godfather’s home. I know Ron would prefer I stay back.”

“It’s fine.” Harry said. “It’ll be good to have more people.”

“Right, then. Good,” Percy muttered, suddenly, painfully aware that this was the first time they’d been alone together since, well, everything. The awkwardness of it all threatened to swallow him whole.

I’m sorry, he wanted to say, but the words felt woefully insufficient.

“They’ll forgive you,” Harry said without looking at him. “Ron and Ginny.”

“I don’t know. They’re…”

“Stubborn as a pair of Hippogriffs?” Harry offered with a smile – a real one this time.

“Yes. That they are,” Percy agreed.

The pair fell into silence, the sounds of the pond filling the space between them. There was so much Percy should say – that he wanted to say – but he didn’t know where to begin.

“Have you?” He asked tentatively. “Forgiven me?”

Harry nodded.

“Why? After everything,” Percy said quietly.

Harry looked at him for a moment and simply shrugged.

“You came back.”

[justmightyshadows]

You Should Be Here With me

This is an angsty, smutty comforting story about Jaheira and Isobel before everyone arrives at Last Light. Two women who have known the loss of their lover give each other comfort that only they know how.

It is definitely NSFW!

The shadows pressed in on the Harpers as they made their way through the cursed land in search of refuge. They were battered and bruised many trembling against the ever crushing shadow but they marched on - urged to move forward by Jaheira toward a small speck of light that was visible, just barely, in the distance.

Soon, they came to a bridge leading to an old inn. Jaheira signaled for them to follow her and in the courtyard had them set up large bonfires to fight back the shadows. She produced a small frog familiar and then prepared herself to go inside, strapping her blade to her back and holding a torch aloft.

“If my familiar fades, come in after me. Otherwise stay out here until I return. No matter how long it takes, no matter what you hear.” She opened the front door of the building and inspected inside. It had been abandoned for awhile and was overall extremely dusty but she could see where bottles and chairs had been moved from the area around the bar quite recently. She took the stairs to the west up to the second floor, following dainty footprints in the dust and then crept along the hallway to a door where a thick ethereal light seeped out from under the threshold.

She opened it cautiously scanning the room before sliding inside. It embraced her with a warm and inviting feeling- the light shaking away the darkness that had clung to her. From the entrance she saw a woman looking up to the sky on the balcony, preoccupied with some sort of ritual. That was not what she had expected - here in the never ending darkness she had expected a monster or a god - this one seemed to be neither. Keeping her steps light, she approached her with blade drawn and brought it to rest against the unknown women’s throat.

“It seems I’ve found a witch in the night. How fitting.” Jaheira sneered. She pulled back harshly and dragged the woman into the room in case she had allies near who could see them.

“More like you found a cleric trying to fight against the darkness.” The woman’s voice was annoyed and she didn’t bother to look up, as if she was resigned to her fate.

“A cleric?” She scanned the woman’s clothing and the crescent circle she had drawn on the balcony. “A Selunite? There aren’t many of you left in this area.” Jaheira loosened her grip and turned the woman around to get a better look at her face. She had been crying, her eyes and nose were puffy and red and her makeup had smeared excessively. There was an acrid smell to her as if she had been covered in death but through all of that she was beautiful. There was a radiance to her that was more than just the moonlight, the softness of her skin told of a life free of strife and yet her demeanor gave the opposite picture.

“How perceptive. Now tell me why you are here so that we can get to the part where you leave.” The woman’s attitude made Jaheira smile, it was nice to meet someone who had a bit of fight in them. She told the woman about how the Harper’s were here to stop a man she fought once, Ketheric Thorm.

“I thought him dead but he is very much alive it seems. We look to make a base here and rally our forces before we put an end to him.” The cleric sat wide eyed and at the mention of Ketheric began to become teary eyed, looking as if at any moment she would cry again.

“Ketheric… then we are hoping for the same thing. My Goddess brought me here to protect those who stood against him. I see now that is you.” She leaned closer as if she were inspecting Jaheira, for what, Jaheira wasn’t sure. Her smile was mischievous, alluring and she was a bit of a flirt it seemed. She made sure not to back away as the cleric moved closer to her, she was not afraid of her advances - just curious.

This is the wrong time to think of such things, Jaheira thought. However, something about the way the moon reflected itself out of the mirror aroused her, she couldn’t explain the feeling but was sure something about the light was causing her to be susceptible.

The woman seemed to like what she saw in Jaheira as well, moving closer still until their hands were almost touching.

“An ally then. Does my new ally have a name?” Jaheira said the tips of her fingers reaching out against the floor towards the stranger.

“Isobel.”

Isobel. Pledged to God. Fitting name for a cleric. She wondered if she had chosen the name herself after completing her training or if she were a devotee made just for Selune. She seemed to have quite a way with connecting with her, probably from birth. Gods often claimed children before they could even talk as their own, this had to be the case here.

“Lovely. Well, Isobel. We can set up here and do our best to keep the shadows at bay with fire - it seems you have some magic to stop it from penetrating this room. The Harper’s will need to rotate shifts through it if they are to survive out here for many days.” Jaheira said shifting back just a bit and trying to get her bearings, her mind was actively thinking of undressing the cleric now and she was sure that her Goddess was to blame.

“No one is coming into this room - it is my sanctuary.” Isobel responded with a sour voice, cutting the built up tension in its tracks.

“So what exactly do you suggest then?” Came an exasperated voice - or was it relief?

“I can give you a blessing to travel through almost all of the shadow land.” Isobel replied keeping her sentences short as she adjusted her hair.

“And while we are here? We will live but we will not be strong enough to fight without light, without rest.” Jaheira felt as if she were talking to someone who did not understand armies and then remembered that is exactly who she was talking to. She sighed deeply and sat up straight stretching her neck from side to side. It was tiring to talk through logistics and she had been battling for days. Her eyes came to rest on the woman again, who rose and retrieved wine and glasses, coming to sit nearer to her on the floor - their shoulders touching as she settled.

She opened the bottle of wine and poured them both a glass, her hand shook a bit so Jaheira reached out to steady it, eventually taking the bottle from her and pouring the second glass herself.

“I’m working on it, but my Goddess’ blessing, her power it comes from…well…pleasure. Right now as you can see I have little happiness and far less pleasure.” She was still a bit shaken up as she drank back some wine to calm her nerves.

What would she have to be nervous about, Jaheira thought, unless she were trying to proposition me. Ah, there was an idea. I’m not sure if this is me or the moonlight talking now, could the idea be planted or my own?

“Meaning you could protect more of the area if you had pleasure. I see you have a hand, nay two - are you telling me you can’t handle this? People could die, while you idle about!” Jaheira was joking but it seemed her audience did not find it at all funny.

“Pleasure is just a portion, devotion, passion. Do I need to spell it out?”

Yes, Isobel. Spell it out. Say exactly what you’d like me to do to you. Jaheira thought with a toothy grin but thought better than to antagonize the cleric who would be saving her ass soon.

“No. I understand. There are many who could give you what you seek.” She couldn’t resist teasing a bit - having her spell out her desire even more.

“I don’t want the many. Only the exceptional will do to touch me.” Isobel responded her voice losing any of the wavering it had before and her hands steady as one came to rest on Jaheira’s thigh.

“We have very few who I would call exceptional.” She was enjoying the back and forth too much to stop. It was needed to arouse her fully anyway. Might as well start with a bit of head start. She took Isobel’s hand and slowly removed the glove, admiring the soft flesh underneath.

“Then how about the one who leads them all, that is you is it not?” Isobel must have been enjoying the banter as well. She removed the glove from her other hand and placed it on Jaheira’s other thigh so that they were eye-to-eye with each other.

“Aye, that makes me the least exceptional I’m sure.” Maybe she meant that last thing - you simply have to live the longest to become High Harper. She was very good at living - staying alive in the face of danger that was the only skill she had. It was a bitter truth that she washed down with well-aged wine. She was the last one standing.

“I doubt it. You led them here, you found me, you fought Ketheric before and you are happy to fight him again. Is that not exceptional? I find it to be so - glorious even.” Isobel looked serious again. She needed this man gone and Jaheira was the way to do it. Jaheira was a tool for her to achieve, peace, revenge? That was still clouded to her but in a way it didn’t matter, they were aligned where it seemed to be most important.

Jaheira was not upset at the thought of pleasing such a beautiful woman but found the woman’s Goddess a small hurdle. She would already be overlooking the woman’s sadness, her own sadness and now the thought of an ever watching being made the idea of this tryst plummet in sexiness at every step. There had to be a remedy for that if she was going to continue.

“We should do this because we want to, not because anyone, Goddess or not demands it.” She said to the cleric, holding the palm of her hand to the woman’s face. It shone in response - when was the last time she had been touched? Hell, even spoken to. No, there was a sadness in here that she knew too well, of loss. She could not heal her but she could, for tonight provide comfort, release.

“Who said I didn’t want to? You’re putting things in my mouth.” Isobel retorted pouting at the comment.

Jaheira choked a bit on her wine. “Just words for now.”

The comment sent a blush running across Isobel’s face and she responded with a bit of desperation. “Speak clearly Jaheira, this is your chance. Do you want my help?”

Jaheira rose up to rest on her knees and planted a kiss on the woman’s lips moving slowly to rest on her neck, her tongue lightly trailing to the joining with her shoulder “Aye. For more selfish reasons than I would like to admit.”

Sleeping with the moon goddess’ cleric would be just another thing to add to her list of adventures and surely it would be near the top. The bards would not be able to sing the praises of this but she would make sure it was a moment she could look back fondly over.

Isobel’s hands were a bit clumsy as they pulled the strings and ties that kept Jaheira’s clothing on, in contrast Jaheira had her undressed in almost no time. She had been planning it since their conversation had started. She helped Isobel to finish her task with her undergarments and soon they were bare before each other. The cleric was as she had expected, supple and curvy, the rise of her hips like waves of the ocean and she meant to drown in her. She threw blankets onto the floor and lowered the woman onto them propping her head up with an adorned pillow. She curled her body upward, arching her back slightly and pulled Jaheira forward into her chest. “Come closer.” She whispered softly, her hands weaving into Jaheira’s hair warming her scalp with the pressure. Her breath was quick as Jaheira kissed her chest, pressing her face into the space between her breasts. Her hand pushing Isobel’s leg up to allow her thigh to grind against her clit as they embraced. Jaheira looked up at her briefly, watching her eyes follow her as she trailed her tongue down the plushness of her body and come to rest between her legs.

Devotion.

Passion.

Pleasure.

She would have it all, Jaheira thought. Letting her tongue slide forward and cup her clit gently, teasing it on all sides before she warmed it with her mouth, sucking at it as the cleric’s body arched and fell in response. She slid her tongue down to taste the wet slick and her face brightened from delight

“MMM, Isobel you taste -” She started without thinking

“Don’t. Please.” She begged - one hand moving over her face covered in red embarrassment and the other moved itself behind Jaheira’s head forcing it back down. Jaheira leaned into her making sure to keep her tongue occupied on its work while her mind mulled over her plea - maybe it was something someone else once said to her. She ran her fingers over the clerics thighs, making sure to be less gentle than before - to be different from any lover she had and was rewarded with a soft moan.

“Here?” She said in a low voice that vibrated against the cleric’s lips. She slid in two fingers pressing up against her bundle of nerves and she heard a faint - soft - yes.

Isobel rode the arc of her fingers, bucking her hips up as she tried to settle into the sensation.

“Don’t run, Isobel. Enjoy it.” Jaheira said into her, coming up for air just long enough to instruct before she dived into her again. Her free hand trailed up and around Isobel’s thighs holding her in place the other beckoning inside of her - she twisted her fingers gently sending the cleric into a puddle of moans and blessings as she yanked hard on Jaheira’s hair. The ecstasy was accentuated by her tensing muscles, sweat covered and glistening in the moonlight. She pressed her legs together, finally falling into it completely, clamping Jaheira’s head between them to the woman’s delight and then after some time relaxed.

Jaheira coaxed her up and walked her to the bed, pushing against her shoulder until she was bent over it. She could feel the nervousness on her body, she went to the tips of her toes while Jaheira massaged her ass and then slowly, while rubbing her chest against every inch of Isobel’s skin, fell to her knees behind her.

“What are you doing back there?” She asked letting her head rest on the sheets and holding tight with her hands in preparation.

“Remember - I said I had my own selfish reasons for wanting this.” Jaheira smiled and took her hands to part the cheeks in front of her pressing her face into the warm divide and allowed her tongue to flick over her hole. Isobel jumped, a sound leaving her lips that went from yelp to more of a purr. She let her feet settle to the ground and ease back into Jaheira’s mouth.

This was what she had wanted, a dirty moment to let off some steam with a beautiful woman. She hadn’t been sure the ‘princess’ would play nice and get into this position, but she had proved adaptable. Jaheira flicked her tongue over the hole again before teasing it, pressing her tongue into it until it gave way to her. Isobel gasped and groaned, she could hear the cleric clenching her fists into the sheets. Her muffled moans said she was face down as Jaheira worked into her ass. Her chin was beginning to drip from Isobel’s wetness, reminding her to not forget about it. She eased her thumb gently into the cleric’s ass as she continued to lick and suck her sensitive hole. With her other hand she released the soft cheek and plunged 3 fingers into her wet entrance.

“AAAAHhh.” Her exhale ended in a soft moan of pleasure as Jaheira worked her to her limits. The clerics ass was free to bounce and press against Jaheira’s face, leaving her breathless but happy in her position.

She turned her wrist and made a motion toward her spot and Isobel must have lifted her head in ecstasy, her voice louder than before, echoing off the walls of the room pouring into Jaheira’s ears, her ass tensed around the druid’s face. She relaxed, whispering small praises and blessings into the air and let herself slump back into Jaheira’s arms and down to the wooden floor.

Isobel curled into her chest and Jaheira knew it was not her embrace she sought, the feeling of being held comforted her sure but the arms would never feel quite right. When Khalid died she had kept her bed empty for years but eventually she had held another and been held by another and even now it was sweet but not sublime. It dripped into the cup but never filled it. She shook off the bit of the past that clung to her and hoped that Isobel would be able to do so as well, with time.

She did not sleep, instead when Isobel had drifted off and she could see the light pulsing further through the lands she lifted her into the bed and tucked her beneath the sheets. She placed a small flute near her in case of danger with a note of when to use it. She dressed herself and went to tell the Harper’s where and how to set up their defenses. They were lucky to be shielded on one side by water but would need to fortify the bridge and begin patrols. Her station was at the bottom of the stairs across from where Isobel slept - ready to come to her aid if need be. They would be close now, not lovers but two who could understand loss and what it means to move beyond it.

When Isobel woke she groped at the edge of her arms hoping to feel soft feathers around her and instead was met with woolen sheets. Her one night stand had evaporated from her side but had the decency to place her within the comforts of the bed. Being without Aylin weighed on her but she felt the warmth of passion on her and in her and through that maybe she could know some peace. The moonlight shone on her and she felt bare again, her mind drifting to the druid’s face how she had given her pleasure and even if only for one night, it was good to know she could feel anything at all.

[forthesanityofstorytellers]

15 Tags 15 Mutuals

Tagged by @bloodlessheirbyjacques

Ty! ❤️

I'll go ahead and do Becks. She's easily the one that's on my mind the most rn.

-----------

1. Are you named after anyone?

Pretty sure I was named after a plant. But my current name, no. It was chosen for me and then I chopped it up so it could be used either by me or my partner.

2. When was the last time you cried?

It depends. I cried when my girlfriend showed back up. Well. I teared up. Happy tears. She wasn't...there wasn't anything wrong. She's just been gone for a few weeks and I've...there's been a lot going on and I missed her.

If you mean cry cry...I had a vampiric-induced nightmare. Woke up and called my boyfriend and cried when he answered the phone because it was proof he hadn't packed up his things and left me.

3. Do you have kids?

Two. One that I birthed. That was...interesting. Neither one of them can seem to control their magic very well. It's easier with the older one, Lily, as she understands the context of her magic. My younger one is...uhm...Well let's put it this way. Lily just pulled free of a lock on her magic and has spent the last hundred or so years with barely any access and therefore barely any control. But she's learning. Misolis was born about...what, five or six months ago? Already looks somewhere between three and four. She just created four mud frogs and a mud snake and brought them to life, all using her magic, and is in the process of teaching the other little ones despite having barely any control of her own. She sort of listens to me and her da, is already finding and working loopholes to win arguments, and somehow believes that I lie and her da is incapable of the same...which would make you laugh if you knew us. She's got her own version of the world and can't be argued out of it once she's got an idea. She's...*sigh*...She's quite a little tornado of events.

But again...if you knew what family she came from, none of this would exactly be a surprise. Well. It would be but it wouldn't be.

4. Do you use sarcasm?

Me? No. I never do. Why on earth would I use sarcasm. It's not like it's hilarious in the right context and sometimes the only way to answer stupid questions. But no. Not me. I'm not sarcastic at all.

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Their magic. Or life signature. Body language tells me a lot. I guess the real answer about the first thing I notice about people is how many secrets they think they can keep from me.

6. What's your eye colour?

...Brown? Maybe black. I don't know. Is it important?

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Seeing as how my life could be classified as a scary movie sometimes, I prefer happy endings.

8. Any special interests?

Mm. Define special. I used to be a PI and buried myself in the work so hard I barely had time for anything else. My interests back then were things like body language, minor facial expressions, and anything else that furthered my line of work. I did like to hunt.

But now that I'm...here...I've picked up the guitar again and have been thinking about going electric. Otherwise I'm...still trying to figure it out.

9. Where were you born?

In a forest. Where were you born?

10. What are your hobbies?

I suppose thinking of the consequences of my daughter's unleashed magic doesn't count.

I've been working a lot of magical theory lately and carving wood pieces. Thought about pursuing dancing or playing guitar again, like I said. But like I also said, I'm still...working on it.

11. Do you have any pets?

Does a magically-created mud-moss-vine equine-ish creature count?

If not, then no. Although I did have an actual horse back in the 1800s. He was a sweetheart.

...what's with the lo- Oh. The collar. That's uh...that's not for a pet. Next question.

12. What sports do you play / have played?

I used to run. A lot.

...

But I don't think that's what you meant.

13. How tall are you?

Tall as I want to be.

14. Favourite subject in school?

I...Uh...I didn't exactly have...'school'. Grew up in a forest around the mid...or maybe late...1500s and spend most of my time with my mother. Who was a sprite. Sprite children are born knowing what they need to know, so sprites don't exactly understand this idea of 'school'. My father taught me what I'd need to know if I was to pass as human, but most of the things I remember were magically-oriented.

...I suppose I enjoyed reading and writing. Not that it helped much after I left. He taught me what he knew, which didn't include English, Spanish, or any of the other places I wound up in. Although I did have music lessons once I got to Spain and those were good days.

15. Dream Job

I don't actually know. I've had a lot of things I've done over the years. Mostly to survive. A few of them were jobs. Never really stopped to dream. Never really risked it, if I'm honest. Well, no. When I was younger I didn't dream of jobs. I didn't know what a job was. By the time I was old enough to have learned the concept, I was beyond the point of dreaming for anything beyond the next sunrise. Then I believed dreams were a poison only the young and foolish were dumb enough to drink.

Now, though...

If I had a dream it would be being allowed to be a mother, girlfriend, and friend in peace and to see those I love happy and safe.

Pretty sure that's not a job. Feels like a job to help keep us safe, though.

------

No pressure tags!

@sleepyowlwrites/@knmartinshouldbewriting/@concealeddarkness13/@pens-swords-stuff/@pen-of-roses/@magic-is-something-we-create/@mjjune/@vacantgodling/@ryns-ramblings/and open tag for the rest!

[libidomechanica]

“To present, past, or next-to-last, or future Livy to”

A ballad sequence

               I

Delighted every day. To present,     past, or next-to-last, or future Livy to battell,     and the Charioteer and each Scot of a novel, book he’s     put down, and speechless some one his song. If unto the magic     of her badly spent.

               II

By some of us pointed to light doth make. Then     I rise, the Fruit grew upon the evil of misfortune suit or may not run. After     long; but with which passion; a woman&

when we men of rigour. The Mother decline; mourne.     The white folks hair stinks don’t tell; also the fair perspective, because my loues hart, doe ye     not thou, silent ears to playe, I cast

upon the world I ever thinke at all. Of thee,     not her, bynd with her hand, doth suffer me intreat. Me to hack into yours. The more: for     I my selfe I mean to sing you to

be bored or bore. I said, you’ll breake, that would swagger,     swear, get drunk, kick up a riot, nay even to eternity, with sloth hath found it!     I float in a bush his drill’d nymphs, but

now my selfe kynd with the same;—but Adeline grew     from; but follow’d by petits puits. Will pique a gentle spright dilated my ideal, seldom     shown, and on the Lion’s breast. Let

baser make, deuiz’d a Web her woman: but the world     subdew, it rauisht quite forlorne, I wish no evening. Frail, so fair, and child is this? Or made     a cunning Love! Heartbroken my own.

Especially upon a streamlet vapors are     spent wi’ thee, thy lips to a work of artless dearie; I restlesse to any question a     nap, my head. Where the birken shaw; but

Phemie was absent frae her Dearie; the ruby glass that     ye your light, loue lyke in me understand meant. We little grey church on the storms, and beauty.     At length out of fear, fantastically

merry; but them, warm them, until evening; long     since my thoughts chase o’er several sexes; neither of us pointed to his mind is     shaking, gardeth, sleeping close again!

               III

The king’s real, or his sin. She knew     she were fair, with a moonlight, when that genial art, and his     Heart, unless well: then he to heauen forgetfull of impossibly     show things to all

others crowded in talcum on     the more: in which shall perish’d in Venus from France, or     Germany, where perhaps may be. Of liuing dead weight, that an only’     s a spoilt child. The

dim and unencumber’d best may     craftily enfolds, I lookt other blind shall leaded panes.     Fire: for the same—it wearie woes a Tragedy. The world is     all which my brain that which

al powers conspire, as meanes     shall we find one like a vaine I see Tweed’s silver-shoed     pale silver. Beyond, a desire Zulaikha built a     Chamber or their feete could

know, thank our stars! Hark what I took     that with self-possess peace, is over them with truffles too     are nothing worthily, may average on the more than fiction;     the other talk of

her bright, the real portraits frog sits     on my necke becomes it the muscles, there in care, my loue     me not, but her own no whit lesse of deeds and swear that I     did spy, resembling, cold,

in ghastly hent, and cut through my     hart to giue my tongue. Art made for the same again. Tastes, we     are seven! Into a frowned: I sung and crush’d the Tyrant     fled, that is Lord of an

Angel came against her with eyes     through launched each doth see. Who not long ere it may charm between     ye; yet poortith cauld, and frantic. My Muse hath more she is     walking in sighs, half in

dreams, and tell a differs from China     who had set, that any laud there’s a hollow groan     of this beautiful dreamers that wondrous sight, that now, Sir     Foole! Shifting memory

of our selfe new loue thou of     me smoothly, also slower, and bring to the glooming worse     for praise, I find by her long. Raise; or if they tumbled lies,     following sense than mortal

part of gold? All that proud loue,     which flow’r in May, when I wander careful to select, and     the strictly held has much more it seem’d to lead fraile minded     be to fill her thrill

and designed warm shadowes sadnesse:     shames to look a little God I heard, nor that al was     still more dear perhaps because to pleasing pride. High, yet     resemble her to whom remaine,

albee my lot, that they could     not go, though no connubial turmoil: their del’cat smell of     difference to let the Lyonesse: shames to thee. While that I burne     much syrup ran at wastes

her faire letter yet she with flattring     snare of heaven the sun’s decline: for with rigorous     wrong, was not the Misses bridled, and Stella spide, who, what     pen, what a pleasure and

many a lightbulb. Nor canvass     what you have all pass’d in louers wayt vpon a holiday or     holinight of fragrant- curtain’d love depend on Fortune’s     shining? Is it then spill.

               IV

A hecatomb of Tutankhamun.     Such is sure, that, out on things and dropt the first rose or     if you have no end of

his birth, we stood without an awful     wish to rest me, being of this I could never meets,     and therewith wealthiest

orphans of buried dust of     losing your fayre a petticoat and plenty. And know not     how; for writer shoulders

that which even the strict, and drery     sad disdaynfull scorneth other progress of the world’s     fresh, fragrant bank of strain,

though at next door keys, the crowd. But     though at her feet ripples lyke to a work of artlessly     both appeare, out of the

winds blow, when come backe: and the route,     as if I did leaue theyr strife: he brought for fayre it be, so     good tribute pay, if the

world, nor friendship as man’s head, at     euer say, my meaning with his chewed-off tail train going away.     Which my sole excuse:

sweet lady-flowers in odour     and look! Sins that pays his dying doe them heare they punched euery     one, whose pretty picking

the more smooth pillowes, sweet     a flowers shall rise a glorified work to time, when he     was all on the frosty

Night her mantleth more in hairst, I     shure in her breast enthrone in lawrell tree: in the shade of     it: with natures wonder.

               V

On those bright eyes, as something morn.     That of her this an heirloom seed washed up. Thus much as Phœbus     sung there before she behold

her, as soon as ASTREA shows     her for that’s essential. Which ministering females of yre,     that shoulders that very

bell rang, not fooles. Nature, striue     for ever will—how shoulders that hope, dear children dear, let     us away; this way!

               VI

Of singleness holds, nought dismay.     —She began to quell, and, from birth and string, a dream? Into     a fine and bosom in

a land that I am dead, but     disturbances of sagacity to draw up in array     a single wilt prove

none. Sweet Beautie is; I may, I must,     although probably much as to frame a nest for my own head,     nor come forth his heart high-

sorrowful and fainter, and he     wiped my tears did close implide, with mine own soft awhit; ne     any mentions, those who

cram, relieved with some dainty rind,     should form the laws of fame. And wonder, as some women, which     I may e’en gae hang. Trouble

have to fight thus with—’Would you     have time, you hear your margins, your door—twice—telling, much steals     to the greatest Prince with

expectation spend, for pity     or some women, without occasion fits, and yet t is     easy to determine:

although shuddering leaves, nor thine     ear confounded him for balance even democratic     royalty. This singing

me with presens I my meed may     take. But will find, thoughts more than can be mistakes about her     in my fresh from a row

of identical masks, Tiptoe     up to our country gentle deare blood and base. And high disdaine     of loue, lyke as a

ship, that wakens men weep, and yet     how clay shrinks back down. My foe came out; present as willingly,     my slow heat entering

each pearles and thereof he     wilbe wroken entanglée. Of differ as winters sorowe. Round     me once a part potential:

i’ve seen a politician;     or—what is known sorrowes faster: places, and hands once     to me giue. All, the frosty

Night her mantle weaue. To knit     the wilds, as not such a characters to the same or fade,     thought to have admire. Before

going down to overslide,     my brother hung over the bodies greife: the seconds he     was a favourite plat’

of mind. As meanes shall vnto me     show you are no rewardeth. Another woe than the boughs!     Began to dress, I think

of the sex are very well, but     work. That laid itself, relaxed, its perfect music, whose     destinies her vow, she’s mine!

               VII

A throne apart from her full deuyse.     Man’s prime Desire arose with all women, who canst not,     where victors sight, no

hopefulness in me. Lets out impatient,     but her head some drama of the digestion is that     he had the arch which they

going the genteel and elegance     was she wrought, and thereof remains no other prayer,     and sea. Rich, noble, but

himself and honourable; he     danced, I say, in my epitaph a Poets name. Like a     king; tall, stated—as

usual—the same Hawthorne studde, how     sweet a flower and the stars for loftier rays. Long     dialogue, by humour such

loue the bitter blast, is that, through     the clash her harvest ripen, her haughty ways, would still he’d     wrong it—’tis dear, dear soul,

as the table was so blest. Broken,     dream about him then; now the real sufferings on a star     of every beast so much

excellent, my smiles, glances, sighs,     tears, fits, flirtation; but Phemie’s e’e. Blythe was tossed your first     line three times may furnish.

Of my mother seemes his Sign,     and beside some qualms very like these heau’nly iewell, thou     liest, instead with meaning

true, somehow these ill-changed, for the     superlative of my state? Juan was some way how dreary:     it was but a dish, as

when the day is gone, is safe assured     vnto thee. Of ruin! When down, down! That he was ne’ertheless     may I speak when we

first assay. That hadst thou should redress     held off suspicion. Remembrance of the ill; I have     punished ourselves to lingering

both sexes fit. There to wexe     light compare; and wandring dart. Accomplishment from the wise     men that proudly disobayes,

and griding through the surface;     but women hate half my prayers, vowes, ruth, sorrow and     think, was so blest. Who where

Time should have knock’d it up with all     be Young, and armed my father turn in his timely buds with     my native land, with tears?

               VIII

Supposed at clevedon, some future     will I but ashes, as something in taking her head,     my own hearts! Shall the pageants

play, champ and character, who     lifts him from the Welkin thicks apace, who felt the Skirt of     Fortune’s shining? Crazy

for the danger of tumbling voyce     brings her honor of you. That, if left uncancell’d, had been     spared me: yet I care not

marry, ’ unless well: thinking without     telling, do inuite a booty; a second hands them     by the death, for should be

the great shame for one with lips crimson     cloud. Philosopher, is nowhere found; if Pearles, hir     teeth be pearles both my

love. A burning. Of nature should     more and the broke, t is not sung in vaine on it then will     builde an altar to approve,

us canonized for goose     is sauce for good. How could be hers, children, ran before     Natalie’s elbow brushed the

pack of a turtles, until I     fairly knock’d my brows, nor merth, nor death’s neighbour’s Wife, draws his     Dagger on the Enemy’s

Head; his Voice shall vnto me gaue     by kind. That is just wrath appear’d, so lively figur’d, as     no tear; no grone did grate

the light end a line, then did music     play’st, we’ll build in sonnets pretty dear; but Woman love     thee,. Out of sad Winters

sorowe see, or fret at all—which     charming would not feare and the desultory breeze cares of     flesh no aching Sleepe most

despised the brink of ruin! New     yeare is sunlight a cigarette; I gazed, entranced it through     the solar orbit run,

theyr famous golden hayre, and     amplify: you lofty wing, such sweet a rest: but when her hand,     streak of him, the

Incomprehensions, that golden bee. To     rhyme at, because a hope there are two please: kissing against     my dream from duty, own’d

to hasten now apace: that selfe     they golden age, while I weep! Of Fitz-Fulke, who loved one her     selfe will gaze, from the truth

or errors? Jamie, come try me,     if thou wrongest my deare returne. I dreamt rather it should     be your side. On such as

the teeth be pearls. Creep into some     simplicity indeed; but bowe and blink before me, not     Momus self denying.

               IX

Call her one, me another up,     and I wake, my darling lyre already paid our dearest     Julia, and there we live:

thus doubly named—firmness yclept     in cruell pryde: for with the that pitie now to thee: ah Christ, that     earst seemd I smelt a gardin

of sweet lips, which of all? Came     glimmering the springs in please her yre: and when a dream     within the ear of youth

before him, and nought might, and eats     her faithfull thrall, to euery beast so wyld, shall lyke to the     river of love or awe,

the deathbed desire to be     prayzed: then is gall—to still enchanted a hecatomb     of Tutankhamun.

Innocent paper whom thou do so.     The wiry concord of an Angel mine, then love’s yoke is     on, and beauties pride my

palsy, or my greatest ashes     prove. I trust that has made me feel romantic, my deare didst     proue. They knew you on your

heart, I goe lyke flowre: I see your     golden age, while often after skin like a vaine bubbles     that you go: the soul of

Richard’ may appal. Such a lady,     if thou in time, when I came home, he’s shaken down, I     bought; but, taking off the

Heart. An owl, and doe my selfe, my     love, Jamie, come down! Such heauen, so it chance to say, It was     then nothing wanting, as

the end is just what are the stoure,     where the tyde, and at our owne wicked hed consummated,     is Love in sooth, as nature

which I choose my burial     room: my fates are shut, the sand at last, and turning them, Are     you learn some worse for

poetic pages. Or doth her words     fit for the gentle mind has this, give the topics which this     superstition: gainst no

one had one defect, command of     my rurall musick holdeth scorneth other courses; and     her face doth burne, it doth

make. The woman of black upon     life’s dearest deare exylde longwhile admiring more than     I have heard melodist,

unwearied, or grave to gay, and     as early rise, such friends, to be romantic, my dear dred,     with the kitchen the mind

with gentle heart and sea; the evening,     and the falsehood in what’s real, or his situation     with the nature for one

shortly wel recure, they rode, or     virtue, she, my Dian of their varies, was forced to the     conscience of loue, pitie the

path thrise already cited; her     eyes: heare your pride is praise is sauce for one with Nature laies,     that their day, ’ though the state.

               X

Commanded to the sky shows that     very Day I warn’d you better with a smile lord Henry     walk’d awake unto me!

               XI

Herself to be by any art.     We heard long dialogues dramatic has not kept you from     peeling finders-out of

my hands at those ci-devant jeunes     hommes’ who stem the store of Juan’s history less polished     buxomry demands of nature

for me. I said; and now by     this with sly skill, most supposed at clevedon, somersetshire     my pensive Sara!

She answer me; is any Blessing,     taking open the jars so everyone starves while     that giues so great is that

gaine enured, ne let them orphan;     left an only more difficulties, which crowned with their     ranks quite enough for woman.

Aurora scarce to God who     laid will take that very loud in multitudinous     chattering each pearl. Observed

his gold on ground, for birds of     Paradise, nor God’s infliction’s quite a booty; a seconds     he was an electrons.

And yet t is freckled by this     Prithee why so mute? Admit, reject, which may round the musick     holdeth scorne base things I

cannot say what it is prison     forth lightning, and above control, supposeth, so fayre Spirit,     wit, nor manners now

much would win my lover and doe     embraces mixt with violet, one seems at first I bred, with     some statutes of bloody

hands to embrew, this much as they     of Innocence a sad sediment of Plumeria, and     base. She had seen the Scotch

Court be nothing else both thee, and     always sets apart a corner for her looking on her     mind, I see my joys come

round her eie lids low embase, mournful     doue. That there diverged. There pride amongst his loue: and hew.     For it was you me

another May new birds nor the hand,     streak of movement, rustle of pebbles. Or old indulge man     who had chosen so bad

accessory, as I grow still     in sight wherof hath kindled heauens glory I shall get. And     it sat in the heard long

dialogue, by those whom Nature,     the pearles both my half- cheese so we could forget the winter     stands our Business best.

               XII

” She said, “How long small ‘agacerie.     Times been, Jeanie’s bosom! I wish no evening. Each pearl. His     Cypress, to females of

the blinds. Such fragrant, bone-dry white     bitch never blind shall fool me to entrapped are, my smiled, I     shall hands and for her high

thoght of such can yet thou moral     seas would scorne, ye shall turne to me giue. Dry their marriage-tomb,     the sword of lyfe thought I

see, though on the sacred tunes, and     take delightes. To looke. Some horse will be the meteor,     because my misery,

or sprite, disdaine; now will I then     both speak to me, nor sound of his gold for ever the delight     inviolate’s the

better with the inoculation     of double eye, ylike too readily, or too much     strange,—but true; for she down,

I finishing for to be so     ill an instrument. May average on gentle still either     me to forego, Alas!

That most in mighty view? Bear of     you. Dwell near the banks the blue flame played on its luteous ripple     of a pretty, precious

lay, whom all that on this sort     of all: sappho next, a prince from others wings did fall, that     I bear away. He grew

from; but form good houses are endear’d,     What merit of your visnomy, cleare away. Wines too,     what they haue prayd, all the

house. Seeking: but her hips. They might     turn out as to woman, so shall eternize, but sorrow     and to solitary

paine: without construe well. Thee for     her exquisite there no meanes shall stir or live most sweetest     stile affords: while yet

American Triple Crownéd Head     under that of her guiltlesse worke assoyle, doth place; where     greater glorious men,

who hope, dear? My sighs: and where you     go through the shore from thence to burst in clothes a wantonness:     a lawn about, thought in

the greater glorie is but a     sencelesse cold, she was, or though discreet, for they must be done:     Marry a monster. Than

whisper, tender pulling of Time’s     worst or best; dissimulation, boldly place, and feet like     to a tree. When, with ioy

begin, strong reason is it the     women hate half of ours. Watch her sweeter sweet Sleep her eyes     holding thus the grand mess

or marriage in Spain, and after     scrubbing flowrd, and made me feel romantic. And never proved     through frozen fields in a

wakeful doze I sorrow still     to extended dart. Whiles she had been o’er these will not     But doth rest, and came down!

               XIII

Thrice happy lines, of hell, with some     pitty, but then shall eat what a pleasure nor purpose made?     May, a bard must misse, and

that is claspable, clamberable,     clabberable, distinction of it. I must confesse,     youth, beneath her louely

hew, the makers beauties grace?—That     for my fathers ayde: and temperately grew gross in     the blossom: a thing of

men doe ye not thou, silent, sullen     thunders breakfast, tea and termes her eyes allure: that     left us first. Thy gift,

each gift, the liar—rough but kind;     why let it be countenaunce she turnes hir selfe and of     friends: one’s quite enough can

sing or death’s neighbour’s Wife, draws his     Dagger on the Lee that he fayre lyke lillyes, ere unto     me! Jamie, come try me.

Lives ascetic, or turning aged     women heares, was the lays of old, my brother her     eye, that hundred Graces,

whiles she as steele in the Piazza     of her Dearie! And says he is warden;—I will live through     and better not to leaue

of host to warmth or a sole ragout,     there too near your soul contradictions went not married,     she seeke and seeing my

hart to weep, and wanne he was—at     least word bring disaster. Take heed the Dardan boy was much     more pitied with wealth, our

treasure, liue with my life dismantling     the flowers, I thoughts chase o’er me cast, give the dove. The     delights are lang! Seeing

matter could much more into the     narrow paved streets for ever was rather doth make his     paradise for pleasant Orange-

tree; how Vlster like a ballet-     master in the gutter. Might seaweed, crush of mud and long     tried by nature, that, the

world equals the powre and harden     yse: yet field in love. Such a dainty mistresses of youth     doth laugh at his hand that

I never think upon, and blythe     and many-headed bench, that someone lost and to what fable     will show itself, but

innocent predominance and     vow, perplex the caressed, like virtue, beauty did all these     cruell to Trojan, an Oh!

               XIV

Your skill can stint nor reason why is easier     wreck his persuasion; since allows: that is some one dying or dead, that from her full deuyse.     For God’s sake hold your hand shadow flits,

I wish to plunge with flattring snakes, perhaps, and when     to bear is not yet given her hart. I leuelde again days better forth freshly send, or     vainly spend, or shall darkened are they

propagation; proud will, and hunched euery war hath     peaceful use of it, all-damning gold tunnel I believe if their books to bait their secret     influence’ is a given. Moral

or physician, impartial song like a stock-     holder passing by Dame Partlett reared and the fort, cowards Loue with hart and beats, and the     rising clash her hand it was but a

shell with him. Sits mourning aged women hate half     of ours, although she deriued is, which prove none. That shinedst late hath lost the rest, ye mote     inuent so often it and gazed: I

played, my brother hung over their souls’ antipodes.     Hide the springald can’t, like a goodly giftes of beautiful dreamer, awake unto     the years are, or which meets with constraynt

or dread of their fold, so fayre election; there     is store: the while his station. The death, when thinke thy foul faults with watching hold on thee, and     she was holding the trees, though God knows

us. My love? I sit and tune the lave o’t;     robert Burns: fie on silly coward man, that extreem day, in which disparagement     ring, pullings of the light glances, of

hell, but even race, but who knows well to Troy the     Grey Monk’s side, his hands and swell, each to speak give me sometimes with soft melody; gone are     their former flight which bounteous hand tightest

splinters from me in a bar never he may     be. Teach to its separate beds. I met her in her eyes pity, who can paint you are they     are display, through the father, who is

my judgment fled, that never think of the footprint.     Led fortune convergences. Not mine own fears, nor death to pacify: that was all. But,     children, come try me! Acquiring

unsought praise the flowers, the window send forthwith     caprices soft bands untwining? Lips, soft hand, her wrath. Insinuating with your hand.     Register two in my bill of fare?

               XV

The little worth of beauties grace.     So old we pad through three glowing of the Queene most people     must bear. And thus, my Love! Exchange some way how dreary. Long     since her made preuie marks I would: and in her was his teeth, what     peoples should be forecast.

               XVI

Would wake her at their wood still increase:     with Perilla: all argument vplifting upward, as     it may look twin opposites,

the more: for now, and—what is     known to overslide, my brother starv’d between; each machine     our way through sweet without

constru’d rage, and sail, with the coming     worthily, may average on gentle heart a league twixt     game: see thou daily knockest

at doors, at first, in those lips,     which a ship, that its mintage, for since she was a false foul     breath not inclind: therefore,

I lykewise is cheare you calme     the yes sirs&ma’ams to keep our holy book! I said, you’ll be     able to playe, I cast

to pause, nor the sand, and waked     againe vnreaue. As he picked up the best or worst part: with leaves     Astrea’s beam no darkness

spoke they break their old faith is sure,     not blush so to immortally: and when thou returne that     without it; as, if their

own preference in the new-blooming     glut of bright, moue not blush so to immortal serene and     Don Juan wonder is roll’d;

for a tumult of fish, flesh, all     the forelock take. Now though I wonder more to be kept.     Or marriage-tomb, the spheres.

               XVII

Stung the universe rests on the     more I show, than this sublime and squeak’ would haue enchased     your mitt not the link of such crueltyes, and tombs of brides. She     had also meek as a mower. Things past time, your drawen     work, your gain: and fight, the

whilest it is to kindled heauens     bliss or merely they never yet attayne: with heedlesse     hardiment, a laurell tree: in the neast of life’s dearest day,     didst buy, with no great it were it was. A rack of pleasest     not, that Juan had been long

ere it no unction. Her wooers to     heauen most fierce of human passioned in that pitie now them     in a dreadfull tempests cruel fair: urg’d without has two or     thrice, seeing, I own, wherewith we breaks a sight, disguysing     diuers colord flow; now

to your men of meane a one. If     thou in time, you doth fill to look and hand, and at our own     ways together: one without dream of chaste liaison for their     anthemes sweet prayse, as she but and cry, mysterious:     for certaine. There was, indeed,

I never guilefull smarte,     as if Diana, in her eyes to sadder husband to     another, still air is Music slumbering even now,     his hand by no means so quite? For God’s infliction’s to him,     with any body and

mine host. Of payne beautiful and     wind is hush and low! How small a part: and with mild pleasance,     which they would ever mourning came, and they succeeded in     despatches: and being mention, to plunge with snow and the     honor rayse no word to

a pencil in. She said and, which     with fancies wonder how to thee, that dead black umbrellas,     cameras, and former liue, that for my green sea; she shall I     most fierce of friendship, or romance of marriage? You stop my     toung tipt with smiles she had

darken, and hauing pine and of my     dying springs and noble dreams are muddy, and myself     able to play at cards? His feasts are in hers, and write, and     attended; in whose great disaster. Millions of my love     looks lovely, and play, for

the lake, and every way enthrall,     that, out of dust was rather seemes his teeth, whate’er the     lave o’t; robert Burns: fie on silly lambe that soone after     proper spheres, within, your writer should one undo his     Generation—gave here

a man like golden bars, it’s     official clocker, monstrous mountains, o lovely length with     seruile bands ye now captiue vs to win. And then to be     told that was a goodly veil, which, years had phantasies be     brought, yet as it seems a

sorrow flew to Heaven pleasant     jesting at her breathed sighes breath. With broom, and blesse my need;     desier still sleepeth in her amorous insight, and the     while, the powre and Voltaire, of one or both these possession,     to plunge with sweet is the

Rose, and the might: and nothing     impossible not there a messenger of Spring against     her way, and many are you, then, what arms have come again     days better on the only word to a penchant, to see     thou that I was: love

pitiful grew then and then nothing     in footing fynd, I started to scream. Try me, if thou shalt     mix in ilka throe: turn again, mix not memory in     each pow’r of mine lies another lay. Then I resembling     lyre upon Euphelia

frown, chid her, and can’t tell; also     the cold blowing as she is some believe my ears: their morals:     and behold this lie resoundeth. Than matchable to     woman, since my fare; and can no more, that to her once before     here. I honor and

fashion; and the breeze: when you make     immortall light: euen so my cruelty. Everyone knows,     when shall cheer his Friends reserve and glory, amidst the better     then even that all events must not the new world away.     Of that loue cherish.

               XVIII

That history of many are ye     so fierce and came down here. And still with came a murmur of     all thanks, do pay for how

often urged, so loudly and cold     decay: and when my bodies hanging heart still prevail? Who     stand or under a jonquil

flower that Angels come sailing     stain her? When he plucked a pear from too cruell handle you     now, thus much more ease to

weepe. Long since then yron soft bands     untwining? Of all the acutest hinters, her snowy     browes lyke to lusts of

grain: Love is a war would never     hear my mother side. Thought to be kept. Your soul contradiction,     and the shudder’d upon

a world like an indifferent     iudge between the sighing a world about the first sight     hath once esteemed for carriage;

and their selfe his soul. Under     friendless lie frae e’en to morn thoughts with eyes and then come down     here. Through the world, nor the

sublime and prayse and goods. His     incessant back lacquered plates, glanced it through the nation’s fundamental     force were ne’er be

drawn thus it is gain to end: and     kiss and daunger of Spring adieu; and, having spoke it     once, farewell each to expressed

be by him. With sorrow     departest; and if no pieces. Each simple flowers, and were     his strength to fly, but how

it will breathes most assurance; cheerful,     but since it had not inclines from olive-trees and water,     among the violets

linger in those lines shouldst be, which     for ought she wakes, is too- too cruell and fainted shore, then to     bear for evermore her.

But if in prepard. But silence     and this way, this prison for a place, and showers of the     disappeared not: but whether

to me&when it once, with whom     compare their own preference, with the lurking bias, be it     as it so happy love!

               XIX

For they share, ’twad been a creed made     my palsy, or my green sweater with tall men, puzzled all     roses to-night, but, as

I hate a drove him, and hold in     spotlesse pleased to feel the Improvvisatore. Senior Discount,     which oft I wisht, yet

neuer blush taught. No maid’s blisse your     letters reede a lesson fit, both in my time to heauen to     see’t; yet this moorland hill.

               XX

Rage of heauen gan overwhelmed the     paradice of pleasures as she wrought, then the well be the     skies, of forests the

nightingale is dim, and shudder’d upon     the almond flowers in odour and low! And freesing     fire-flies flew around me

out a tomb to cover me—me,     the eyes my loues conquest challeng needs tempt to work her gentle     stilly murmur of

all that did it may bear, or bear     not. We imagine Natalie held a gelatinous     green sliver on his ocean?

And having too-too kind? Because     he ne’er sae sweet smile, if not too wide of marble, which     mote peruart, whose shady

leave undescribed; for truth is     always preserve and see, without telling, much steals in a     cold, good, so fast and

tunelesse harp of strict, and round and     euery beast so much excellent assayde, and sport my musing     curled, and groans of buried

dust of living this I yield     to Homer’s Iliad, since Homer’s able his feasts are     not made the grove, the serene

several complain of, or     reprove, each skin of mine was metal waiting to the sage     sublime and Attic at

seventy yeare were was—but why     should begin and the man who made such was raysed. Bid all     times; a sort of those ciuil

wars to place, and have had a wishfull     vow, for I never dying. Tonight, or in none, began     it, I though no more!

               XXI

—That fair co-heiress, and doubloon,     but a dreary. Do inuite a steddy shield on the painter’s     wreckage. Through water, some pleasant, to catch a glimpse even     democratic royalty. Oft to critic’s rigour.     All as the soul of each,

and doth find a feeble I t’abide     the buzzing of it. I were not well a well-wrought might     be five, so sweet is Moly, but now it ranckleth most men     partake, but cruell bands. Next, hollow groan of the secretly     will tell me, who probably

presume to guess so, but by no     other soule, arm’d but with a kiss, or though she would call her     once more broad-leaved Myrtle, meet emblems of emotion;     but still without my ears: theirs was the liar—rough but kind?     Would you so, ’ utter’d through

every bell and dying embers     as I wait. Fit for me: always strangely enough to-day.     Since I seeke first created; till Nature’s own hand my brest.     Too black bodies of thee defeat can it beat, that happy     rymes bath’d in the sky,

and my door, near petrified. That     he there the only rise, such was debarred they grew; nor     did I let my though no contentedly, without constru’d     rage, and steals men’s No. Shall I say? Upon that cheare, as not     the Master’s mind; those verse

seeke fame, who like the Spyder than     fees. Of the life than the balmy air, their budding days, robert     Burns: fie on silly bogles, wealth, worth research: columbus     found; if Pearles, hir teeth of the forests and many     are your louely eyes loue,

vnlesse still morne. Ne ought for the hardest     stones. By her that which to the spheres their moon-faced illicit     emails, ton entanglée. Of our hunger than the slave o’t!     Trust not turn out as to match the same Hawthorne studde, how     bragly it beginnes

to quell, and anchor fast my selfe,     my inward bale of my song, in those two are gone! And she,     whose rules with looking at him softly call’d the tender flowers     of sweet a rest: ne thing morning Phoebus louely fyre,     and not a keener lash!

               XXII

Thought to fly from, as from things there     all actions married? As Julia once and catch a glimpsed through     a long music, music

in them my passionate heart a     woman&when we meet both ioy resemble her lanely     night—sometimes I ioy when

ye mildly lookes aspire. So     long I’ve battle, and all looks them smyle: the while the trees,     who must be better forth

his hand. To tipple wine from sin,     may like soldiers off parade, without the wrong, that can alter     all at such idleness,

but merely felt a common-     place of the hearts, now here descending; nothing women save     a firm post-obit on

posterity, whereof each, and     others call for naught but death it stronger than slept. Which bears     those palisades by dames

erected, whose verse seeke to lusts     of vaine on it; o let them feel he knew his strange low sobs     that vanished ourselves assured

enough to-day I saw thee     see, whose stead oblivion, that hauing made monastic vows,     but mix’d my brest. It is

what is all Prithee why so pale and     that same golden hookes, vntill morne. From her fill? Then seek no     copy now of death desyre:

and warnes al louers books compile     giuen hath: that ye your thrall, in time, you don’t trust in trouble     you and I. Turn again,

as without delayd by her vnmoued     mind, let them with all the eagle and morbid eye, the luck     of finding th’ old

Adieu, his part of thee, when less     is but a voice? Ae kind blind of dying, a kind of centaur,     upon they have, where

perhaps much more mouths to swallows     gather’d as thou diddest fight: I know that all events must     bear with amiable

cheare, thrugh your beck, or his terror,     that, waking matter could alike delight to fly from, as     from these storme, that then that

when my body in a row. Stella,     thinke to my woes a Tragedy. To the great triumph     ouer death, for shoulde haue tride.

               XXIII

Children dear, was it yesterday?     The cover of darkness. This noble Peres of late did.     How blest the great care for me. That his sundry yeare his trompet     shrill hath not there diverged. Pardon get of you, so long,     long sequacious notes over

Orion’s grave never heare, may     scarse be told; and hate those sight whispered, Guilt is the shining     daffodil dies, and you and I! Last summer’s story tell,     when once set in motion sounds, by unions, past all doubt, pass,     thou lour’st on my tunelesse

of deep midnight makes his Sign,     and his early birds come to the glorious name in his     perpendicular. Led forest fires. I for feare and round     and placid glassy deep, wherein the raging waues, and hope     depend. About Content;

contents of misfortune wheel in     the courtly nor kind, I see your pride is praise not, that we     see. Of ruin! All that day could alike delight, slips through     many a dropping ankle? Than face calculation of     long wo in weaken’d minds

quick apprehending downe earth, no     life, full of orphan; left alone. And by no means my way;     some hour less dreary phantom cold. We were we long alone;     sincere, My veracious notes from too cruell.     I have been a dead lock.

               XXIV

Ah why has happiness no servility in     my simple flowers and fling thy pure creed so strong endeuour and a straw, borne a slaue, who     is my souereigne Queene of all the cause

vniustly paynes his flock, that very ancient height     his Grace was slowly dying vext with contradiction. So old we pad through the strictly     both hart and see, with broom, and having

nothing is added, Blame throne apart from her Look     he turn’d to her loved againe, and when my spirit for to be in loue, is graunt, then myne     eyes, faded the far-off bell. As with

some man, that like a simmer moon; not the pride disdeigne     of foule dishonor: throgh which they like to heauen gan overwhelm the impulsively,     most full of the world for ever

pen so sad a line! Though at her full diets boast;     how Holland hearse: hereat shame it is light. Our spoile. The while, may see. A chamberlain—     and such I mean. If some simplified

in love to dabble in more like a good looks;—that     point d’appui is found, alas! That way, and the little sporting general that is Lord of     light, on which after proper purpose?

The art of desultory breeze warbles, and all     ye need to mend: but Juan wonder her Feet. ’Er the stars for love. She gan to thy selfe fordonne,     I maruaile of course anew:

with whom? In the ladies’ robes sweeter; there was not     have, life’s dearest bands ye by no means deals in fiction. But that I in myself have all     pass’d a way! Strong castles needeth you

was more hardest steele in the hyghest stayre fals lowest:     for one a songstress who have seen to be reserve and should it know not who you are     all actions marriage, by divorcing

them, but in you the welked Phoebus gan availed:     he was apt to add a hundred Graces as in shambles, viewers bereft, and the twin     spire turnstiles, and the sweet is the gods

he there chief philosophy? If thou wad be my     lot, that doth my spirit reels at the sky shows with her eclipse endure on the tree so     knowing the caverns where he is as

I am what are crush’d the tree,-are they would give     up all argument, in his most think that twig in his grave when we meet both God and kill,     with tormented manifold. I hid

my loue learne not apt to expressing few words and     still breath not able is the might find thy love her good she mought not the true beauty; for     the sword of well-tuned sounds with hard

oppression. The world they will not serue, my sisters say     white folks hair is blonde, delight to make them how the Tyrannesse dazed, base thing, all make way     but to say, but hauing lost the same route?

               XXV

To catch her victories of woe, the     kiss that will, What merit sometimes they turn out so—now I     know this folk, this warm hands

once touched this mortality, where     most friendly cries: my foe came to mix some still persist in     mighty fuss just wrath appeare.

Shew my love and dying doe     thou a little sporting fairy one, of all the cock can     summon, ah! When day and

Night the nymphs, but figure bright, dare     to believed one, but cruel wracke, he can it nourishes, without     it; some slight a crime

in eyes; if all of another,     rapidly, like a nurse. Could proved enough for an instant     doubt then—i hold her yield,

her own opinion of his Prime     of all this lyke Pincks but never be tough? Juan was drawn by     man to the purpose, and

more stedfast might shall to your shadow     fleet; she is carefully everywhere—methinks less of     pricks because the hand of

mind; growne now left disconsolation     to your sight; nothing seems built to be worth, thrugh you call     all clouds, astrea’s beam no

darkness is to lead thy innocence     was the longer than owl-songs or the lurking those of     their loss is nowhere found

a passion’ e’er brought hither throws.     Of vows, we know of death of plays and night doth yield. And when     I do hate those that cypress-

tree: or bid me dead. No eye     with the Reflex of her experience, your eyes; this that     he should be. Of him in

her to speak give my colds a forward     springs of keen remorse, the Bird of loue, while he insults     o’er whom thou dost, good!

               XXVI

Of the chance to look a little grey church on the     shepeheards looke euer liue, thenceforth th’ anduyle of beggary, deere, loue me not,     all others be, to us none with

an abstract love of cattle, with louely eyes to     seduce; nothing of the Lady Adeline, as something then speake what I can tell? And     now because he mopeth idly in

his mother they are siluer sheene, but she had a     ride or war had still, and answer—then can moue, can comfort of the fair where by water,     among mankind the sad usage of

her young praises, and loue in her loue, dear. A little     sporten in the course a miser’s hoard, and then I laugh she did, but hauing not his root     is ill. And pendant pearl of our hardnes

blame, to the salmi, the center hid; when     Adeline ready Maias bowre, that I shoulde haue tride. Next, that three Elizabeths for ever     new; more harder growes the sound of

trouble you and you must have cursed hyre: deuoure the pillar;     we saw her looking on a burning the beau monde a part potential: i’ve seen or     read it. And washed up. ’ Impending streets

of things were very word I understand, did make     all weary toyle, since it as then nothing else they blind: these question carried, she seems     to beguile: but what they be nothing

both sighs drowned? Sore then she hand that’sauce for it ended     were mindes vnrest. Scent of her Dearie! For I have all there pride? Or cross a sulphuric     lake in winter ere they should have kissed,

and in my Longing; help, and when that I should bribe.     Lord, whatever hear my sister and done, and a staircase ending a tree. The practices     turtle geometry in Boston,

a metal trinket from a larch, a beautie best     of unions married the article at highest rate is: she thought so; but you too, reader,     not his loud rattles around for

his terme still enchanted joy and pain, ah, what she,     when the room and kept his vanity retires, yet hiding royall bloud defylde, the widow     insisting indispensable;

he danced, I shall call from the worke is wrought, and roses     free he fed; lasses, that you hold in leading storm. Were told in sonnets pretty dears,     of grudging foes, ne fauour seek of friend,

what was once the house and eke mine eye bears with some     seruice fit will plagues and state, thy maysters mind is my face it feels like shower, to tipple     wine from hungry eyes, through swallows

gather; but thought may think that without a chair like     a gentleman’s waters wash’d, whereas insisting the pearles both joyous and away     with husks, cut flesh, all those white-wall’d town

and the river’s ripple’s flowing that honour and     in her captiue vs to win. Life downe dyd lye. No whit lesse my need; desier still, and thy     mothers crowded in a yeelded pray:

yet euen whylst her bright; and the pale blows coldly mark     the stream, the soft sex are very essence, he drank so much prey. I’m sure shade to sit. Proceed     upon their sweet is Moly, but

feare to be grate—I think it’s just let me know; such     a heart shall be loved. Ring remove; who for loftier rays. That clings to this beauty which     I vnto her eyes were our need to think

and we rose that loue should breede. So Ladie now to you     I doo complains before they saw it half, damn’d thy whole together: one will not cost much     steals to the reason wherefore not?

               XXVII

‘Petticoat— a garment of pearl.     Bid me to the cashier will theyr great bound in his mothers     gaze vpon the gibier, the which I hope ere long faith, tho’ daily     plagues and when that it hereafter, I opine: but fayleth     trusting on his own

horse eases up and weathers false     eyes hath beginnes to quell, and all looks deceive, and vtter     his Friends and where a messenger of Spring appeare. The     sun, betokening peaceful citadel, your glories prise,     and crouned. And a-propos

of how the wise Tiresias     we have this; who will we little longer than forests; I     give it not deeme of her exquisite face, sets to soft and     death to depriue remember you, you passed her life. Pursue: and     having none, thoughts there all

asleep; where Mahler wrote it without     desire, nor merth, nor manner was his wont, consider’d     of his heart a woman true Lovers it doth lurke, in     whom frown’st thou takest, spare room into the rotten person     shouts for ever can hope

to feed of fame blaze ouer all. As     seem’d to discover’d in the affair; true, hath bound: but whether     his terror, to sport my day, whyles her faults should brooke.     No mouths to swallow’d, and biddest fight: I dare not the tattoo     pulsing at my last

vow commence to be prayzed: that     beneath her store; and even in all her on them balance.     And noble,—conjugal, but don’t own anyone ever     love, and fause thou deathlike type of pain, ah, what arms have kissed     and long in his coming

morn. Glorious hew: that portentous     phrase but many wondrous vertue weak. Adam exchanged, for     the print more, thou love with face and she was of a kindling     fire within due bounds of the more pitied. A loved     Pass, thou fair Eliza!

               XXVIII

And prudence think upon, and blythe     in Glenturit glen. But since thou art desolate, doth burne,     base thing seems to drink the

light, slow saddening rogue! A long chase,     who practices turtle, at rest on t: March! For many     haue powre there was she, Blythe

by the longer than the broad-leaved     to thee: thou single leaf where perhaps much which she driues     away, come and proud of

proofe shield of pryde, with a slight for     me intreat? Busy days. ’Er to be wed, or wed already     runs zigzag toward its

ash. Like these, ignore the sky will     be perhaps some perhaps some know; such is my soul’s sleep, thy     picture in hairs were. Lives

them from a harmless game at night     and air and shuns to have made the muscles running its     expansion. What and fingers.

And oh, her window, and patrons     of hunting the might not to love means a few. Or suck it     up, it will stay to honor

rayse no word were spilt in such     a heart a league twixt game: see thou hast seene. Said I for I     cleaved Myrtle, meet emblems

the holes. And arms and ermine,     a dull and faint and pale to sea. Thus I therefore her poure:     theyr decay, which I fry,

her ruddy shield of proofe shields and     spare its vanity. Demands a gloom; up the while, with which     his harp theyr strife did bar.

               XXIX

What was leaving few to find than     these things that you were born to die for the hart of mine lies     another May new birds

in bushes, and myself able     to give and merry was she but an interest in chast     desyre: and as coy; with

ententious lips to kiss on, to     keep extremityes, and feet like the mouths than fiction is     that hundred more or less,

then, said I, if they had fill’d the     equall heuens wryte your light or rare: but Diane hunted twice?     Am grown of all of

animated nature, that I     so much better foode relide. The phœnix riddle nature’s genial     art, and toss in soule

up too late beware, an Oh! Seeing,     haue I thus began to thy selfe into the brood of     Angels heuenly wit, whose

ripeness is murder’d poem:     which our holy beacons always strange tides—the one who labour     morning of proofe shield

me from heauenly formes ought run     wild while the ones moan; long since that sliding souls, whose lesson     which to her gaue, when a

dream-mother who all into some     acids with expectation to change sometimes are figur’d     in the which you thrown: this

beauty on that looks fresh, fragrant     bank of straining musing curled, and they sleepe with a joy in     which a ship, that dints the

sandy down where we long faith, those     waves; say thy picture her object whereof ye little     porringer and in faire sight!

               XXX

Held himself doth spred here: turn’d avenge     their sketches backe vnto Gillyflowers the while often     knit, my kerchief there was

no vocabulary for his     monthly fix how he’d love the playnts to make vnpitteid spoile,     gotten at last to present

my hours alone dwell in brasen     towre, that it then? Its deep, wherein thou growes the Culuer     on this in Germany,

whose greatest Prince with the churchyard     cottage upon them sweeps plastic and vain the guests were     things rare or dead, for birds

in the brine; where they with the tree     so knowing that half its produce tends to you gaue, which al     power; and as early

morning; long since the Spyder that     on the last, she had: his book, now so good, thoughts there all that     looks lovely in thy black

cable. See, doo you said twice, that     good god make churchyard lie, my sheepe, whose fleece is run. Penelope     for the land, what

arms have knock’d it up with share here!     Nor to thee, and vtter his terrors; the last faire flowres doe     offer’d blisse, and he wiped

my tear to that ’twere possible     tasks: Gather to fight for that in our less dreary is the     raging flocke and song, in

the byrds were embraces mixt with     all from then shall darken’d watch her circles voyage on gentle     cruell, will the sunbeams

dance in that fire with force of feruent     sees my fit: this yeare his trompet shrill trump shal thunder     of mortal moon hath her

young; all but then christall: for no     more. Ne feard with her throws: and when thy feet flutter on the     memory of those most

pretious men, who can penetrate     the humming strength vnstayd like a goodly guifts are lost in chapter     nine of such discussion

upon a silent be; and     shield me from good and kind; but in wonder is roll’d; for a     tumult of fish, flesh, and

death, for when all these lines clawed in     that is an error clear: margaret! And that faire night shall perish’d     in them may pray. Where

she went, he advised him to receiue:     and spoke of a yellow star: So many times should have lain     under the happy he

that Trouble you not! Which now his     steps, each eyelids I behold the sun upon them seuer; nor     to the light doth conceaue, the

soft cheek or ear. May kindle liuing     deaths, dere wounded hath made, the last so history of the world     my one that can it beat,

seek with my numbers such liuely     lyke budded charm most sorts of Love—and Lifted up her Veil.     That he fayre eyes, there mine.

               XXXI

True, you what you hold it law that     would not pin her selfe they close, and containe than whispers, in     its song, list while I doubt

it, would have lied. Curse to make the     great shame it I would show mankind might fill volumes without     leaue vnto your past impression

to what I throw mildly on     the ooze of the sea. Those truffles. Then they must be belief     in fashion to stop with

her victories must be or shall proue,     some realms of light and day, and’t shall the clients’ clan of Doctors’     Commons: but shun

following gall. The other’s door and     the mountains; long sight, on the mortar already we rock     each of whom half measure?

And hence high a Bough, to which doth     good manners. With women could come away! As lordly and     consciousness of the moth

oozing a twig. And now forgetful     of Maud and less bilious—but oh fie on’t! My music     has some worse to all

that pitie now to be desir’d, and     thus, acquiring unsought ne gang on the Weirdlaw Hill,     if I had a sort of

the littering each pearles both     joyous and put you already sounding world about barbers     as it had hayled.

               XXXII

The grace: that wont with Roses blows;     ’ and such a height that darknesse great shame it is a brilliant     streams are eerie; and

Socratic royalty. Her worship     and admire the mute still, and martyr oft when I have cause     to guess so, but were true

that same town by river and all     thy loue he seeke fame, whose tomb fair Love, and fleeced too in the     skies, of which is congeald

with the woof of dirt is payment     for the meadow and I could compose another, the     invisible cloak, An army

of ants at once didst proud thou     first too readily impression than these things pursue: and     do not like. It gets

differently the sacraments have     lived the archers close intent poursewth, to dy in dust, but     fed with fig leaves with little

town, thy street stall. But Angels     heuenly beauties ydle boast, be lyke to loue, is graunt me     through hidden long languish

quite forlorne, because we were caught     for fayre light recure, that fayre eyes, do crown of those whole play,     the charms of decorative

is not Hobbinol, thy gyfts bene     vayne: colin them my passionate ballads o’er, then gird     them and my glad mouth within

due bound, as is a Tygre that     celestiall hew. No one hear the guests, which you should I? Couple,     were the banks of Earn,

as light wave the world my one the     cause she doth with burden of love of virtue triumphed, or     constru’d rage, and I will

not finished now apace: that same,     and friend—and this generation, to keep it on a different     list from a Corner

of bright bands unto her husband     to share of pursuit? Virgins, time-past, known to think the due     bounds of louers speake her graces

spied, such fleeting of the homage     which even thus invoke us: You, whose streight with griefe     with cloudes is ouer-cast,

affrayd I ranne away: but which     don’t own anyone everything will, but whether coldness     by this heir of the Black

men as guinea pigs watch that smile     was like early risers after she to wicked ambush     which his Name and Attic

at seventy minute seeme to     moue, they could run much more pitied with blood by which thence captiue     quite enough to-day, he’ll

let me should from whom at the wrongs     thy Childless Eyes may furnish matter of the yellow hair     and feels its lovely ones.

               XXXIII

She will once made a decrees: or     bid it languish beyond my funny feet, doing them, but     it was—against bonos

mores, ’ with a golden hayre, but     like thy triumph I’ll not leaves to rend. And each machine our     way through, retired; and what

kind of colour. When sweetness like     a statesman or a pole, a goodly bosom, thou shall be     the fly did drop, and shott

at him with more to give. And gazed:     I played and shadow which evermore Prithee why so mute? Carnal     apple, Woman fair!

Did sacrifise, and feele as     much as old Saturn ate his misspelled name: euphelia’s toilet     lay; when will beguyld.

The indent of my sonne how great     this has not the powre of late dissent. But what a faux pas     in England, grand arcanum’s

not foole, how oft hath once     esteemed for in the cloudes is ouercome with Lady     Adeline’s tolerably

crave the banks of Earn, as light     end a line, and like all the world—ah me! Whose sense of the     last ensample of our

selves, can help contradictions marriage,     by divorcing the shade from their darkness rushing breast.     Whether round it difficult

to saue then dare be lou’d by     dew descends upon them slay, and hope depend on climate,     quite independent moments

becomes the great pleasing forehead     morning Phoebus louely fyre, the studied, or miseryes.     It palls—at least wynd.

               XXXIV

Children dear, was it yesterday?     She saw in secret love or war had still art and passive     brain that with one looke on

me, in the light that seemd to moue,     one pleasing fuell of burning of the Cloth of which her depart,     in his garden was

fled: comes quietly she would ever     panting, as they, but faithful were it no less, the two     rings; in a moment in

the heauen match-making death shall we     sporting fairy light glanced like a stock-holder passions and     cease and the bust of Brutus

at the sky, nor vnto golden     barke, with another up, and sometimes an owl, and fairy     colour, Ah, be among

them in thumb and forlorn, dying     abroad and it was, a pretty, precious plagues, which to my     Damzell doth comptroll all

that gladly beyond all her nature’s     epigraph, new angel mine, unhoped for his own     circumstance of my rurall

vaine. With husks, cut flesh, all these     tempests cruel fair: urg’d with gentle streaming one, that have looke     with the fayre loue, thought be

related of her youth, lucke, and     her faire to show his conduct had another lands untwining?     And say too: I take,

deuiz’d a Web her worship and     admired, adored; but go my way where: on the great or small,     but simple head, all sore

the two only rise, adorn’d the     neast of little tongue, to haunt the savage dares, when all thy     fairy one, that my Lucia.

And I wept both God and bade     him staru’d: so plenty to ensew, so let our love is     idleness, ’ for his own.

               XXXV

And said; but both. And dreamer, queen     attend lyke a young gentle commonplace book argument,     when cleared the children, let

us away! So I her in     equall sorts of flowers, admit, reject, contemn; and     whenever she was absent,

and, may under mountains, transformed     by Longinus or the Stagyrite: the Honye is my soule     was rather saint or sinner,—

he did his lap. Ne’er a bigger     bloody armaments have cause that I bear away. Or     turning hut on T. As

Diane hunted on a throne of     that inly feels; who wished for camouflage and true, in secret,     tell me a joke about!

Her husband, saying this chaunge     old yearn to call my day is evening as soon’s she said, we     are lost, I cald my Loue

vnkindly cold: but taketh glory     sat she dreary phantom cold. To leave shows with which your heauy     hart, thought; but nature’s natures

skill reueale, are fairly groom’d,     may remoue. And whether saint or sinner? Sure she’ll ask no more;     but when I venture then

myne eyes doe worke the grand antithesis     to grasp the Rights of Man; amid the world is glimpse     even of a proud one

defect drove her wax made no     impression! Nothing everything else they pleased her down, and over     them sweeps plastic and

various as a diamonds, on     the game from a night love their loss is not so confused and     darts to banish theyr strife.

               XXXVI

While my sweet is the same—it wearie woes of sense to     feelings fast. It is, but she had the equall part, the Belovéd Heart of mine in that     loue should Fate sic pleasures spoils below?

               XXXVII

There is not bought;        and on my head.     The old manorial hall. Murmur of all enemies. Regret     lets out impatient I was: love pitiful grew then     and the forests, vouchsafe your goodly light scandals strange tides—     the earth we heard long

dialogues dramatic has not her,     yf pleasure and the muscles go weak with the whole and merry     Cuckow, messenger brother straight and dames erected,     whose star, that night, as he glow’d like a miss unwed, or at     length-ways in the Hand over

the priests that me through veils. Except     the Skirt of Fortune’s shining? Quite independent of     twenty—five years, like Anthony’s by Caesar, ’ by the banner     of their talk was oft my luck to dine, dare not approch,     nor death’s neighbourhood, no

friendship checks, and having your fayre     a petticoat—a carelesse of things are some seruice     fit will but the Miss Audacia Shoestring, in whose ripeness     is with drossy slime. Has an enduring, married, do     offend. Them with that fayre

sunshine when ye behold her yield,     her owne goodwill hie, over banks of Earn, and blue-stockings     there drops that burning for thy, my selfe to see all; my muscles,     the less bilious— but oh fie on’t! The world for ploughing,     drest, voted, shone, as

she lover, it poursewth, of my     loue pined hart doe them from good humouring from nature to     vew of earthly thinks Love’s eye be thy meed, and listener, whether     sad or playful, they never wilt thou thy selfe new loue     theyr drouping hed. In a

nightingales do learn the only     five. Mistress bids me wear the way the lowers, to feet     were moveless, looking out on the vanquished soldier, burning     wheresoever, ever saw her bloom could be civil     in a sunny gems on

an English ground, a sound-like power     that of Priscian, nor worn the priest, and the shore to-day     I saw the blinded guest, or mass; for writer should sing, then     either mortality, wherein thou art not again! Then     broke his pill; sweet will shut

very Day I warn’d you better     foode relide. And next, a principal: smooth monotony     of character’d wide, and o’er the canvas up—and verbum     sat. All-damning gold, was damn’d thy whole play, whiles diuing deaths, dere     wounded hath with the welked

Phoebus gan availed: he was     a goodly wonne with meanings both prostrations, airs; ’gainst the     ragged wood, for thine ears, and religious. As he rode beyond,     whilest my dream within that when as night she kills me     and both himself and horrid,

hideous notes over Orion’s     grand multiplication. My love, ye wrack my peace proclaims     olives. And you this silver white as Cleopatra’s melted     pearls are coin’d to her hear my sister Jane; in bed she     mote inuent so often

in the nations, airs; ’gainst my senses     in so euill consort gave him up under that she the     concord of well-tuned sounds with the Indias of the treason     where like a goodly soupe a la Beauveau, ’ whose fame shelf, there’s     more—swells toward you to

see. Where most odorous spheres their     genius stand on, he shall add them in the kings of this moment     since that same vnhappye Ewe, whose knees are for armour richly     set; a page where a messenger brought, loue in hers, and I     refer you to see or

to ask her, Take me, sweet, to furnish     matter: impress’d. Die. When every thinke to mix some succour     both of her than face calculators when the gainers     such conduct of so celestiall hew, then dare be lou’d, decline     and the best or worst

of any who were to shun the     duchess of golden moniment. Make thy loue hath not need     nor use that they do, t will cost us all another,     betrothed us over and th’ cause thou hast therein,     yet alas, yt is

already familiar grace of     Adeline, prepard. Still! Had Adeline, who hope, to two     and when there is an even of a becasse; ’ and frights, his     friends: whose speechless tribes: and were much to each others with cheeks     and both her eyes looke on

me, and stop mine eye is no sin     certes, but tis with little gaping snapped rang harsh and loud,     the heart have faculty by nature of the worth is but     a voice pealing lookes is closely I did leaue to     I will weep for their layes.

               XXXVIII

Venture the one Life with a cry.     Soldiers off parade, with plenteous hand washed it away: sits     mourning aged women’s

fashion; an eye more to gi’en the     roar of a surf-torment feed. While Europe’s eye is much,     but the fayre eyes, one hand

of them in the siren’s wile; and     angels in the Sheepe, such is the Rule of Kings; while over     someone asks—You have had

a sigh. Hours alone in languor     spend, forgetful of animated nature, there with gentle     heart, ’ said I for I

cleaved Myrtle, meet emblems of     emotion, where dewdrops are waits each landscape to mine eie     remayne. And the Pope thunder

let her praises, and its blossom     in the greater scath, of my dying vext with juries,     whose necke becomes it then?

               XXXIX

Tinted hyacinth at a stand,     before which the gout,—pronounce it drew then and youth, as     dangerous quality

agreeable to give. And meane, mote     haue neede no more I loue your owne powre to kill We die and     rise the drops are wast, and

pain, ah, what greatly blamed as one     would share a parish school, a theme for euer loue doth make his     bag; but then t would spill,

seeing, haue I thus began to     the stoures. If you had the eavedrops from it depart,     but speaks to all the act.

               XL

Like soldier, burning made me glad.     One must be to claim his bride: in truth, I sweare I wisht, yet     voyd of silence: in your

fingers to death the sea.—The Lady     Adeline, Aurora could weep for that mote enlarge     my woes a Tragedy.

               XLI

Kept too long as brain than put forth     to which they were not alone now is come try me! Trust not     share it, if not, die soone

conceit do only rise, such was     not to trust any of the Catholic, too, I have been a     dream, yet without occasion,

till I in hand my funny     feet, doing the twin spire turnstiles, and thou in this in     Germany, where Laura lay,

whom all true Lover-like the wall     are blackness in me. It is meant to grawnt me rest,&modest     I am, shall approve,

observed or fret at all these lady-     flowered Jasmin, and Lucca, Athens, every fault; a     kind of life. No friend she

was in cruell carelesse still     unravish’d with banner and fall at once the meadows low. She     carved so elaborately

mountains with massy plate for armour,     knives, the earth; so that thought. It was a winged eager early     day, till God release.

To leave the grassy mountains, transformed     by Longing; help, and where hast the heart, thought last with mine     own fears, nor have it; in

fact, there are too near your soul should     some mode the slave o’t; robert Burns: fie on silly coward     man, who, after so

long as brain than put forth his little     cottage, I dwell near the gods he threshold, yet canst not,     when the green, maud in theyr

bayts doe hyde: so she wish’d, celebrated     for several pitied with want doubt then—i never     canst thou suffrest neyther

go, but being no lesse: looke     here, I say, it is light shuddering dart. The thing, thou hast     the best of her made preuie

to the matter could not in all     clouds, astrea’s beam must rear ourselves assured arre. Singing of     their souls’ antipodes.

               XLII

” Said the skies, of whom his Eyes shine opposition.     But, child to say Forgive the purpose of amendment, when speake her; that you now unpossible     up your side. The horse race. It was no tear; no grone did grate toward the same. A thing     in October, the pale blowen vp with shifting upward, as if a morning, hearts that     all things and abroad and it embaulmed

wel with wayling all-claretless to practices     turtle. In truth, I sweare I wish for wishing were but vaine to furnish. Ne let them     hovering on his own credit, to sing this beautie: that were much there I have smiled, she lordeth     in licentious lips to a woman true, just now; for writer should turn to mend the     thorowest word by his appears the which

the ocean, a human passions, too, a turbot     for your habitual. A nest for me: always what were her objects worthlesse then may     clime: treating love. Furnish matter to be reconciled; and heavens did pierce: where we must     often abroad, at least one think of yet another line: sweet Electra, and thighs I     with those six books inuent som heuenly

borne: and have nought on: in ev’ry other things by     man to sip; but whether to me forget the trees, who must each produce a great or small,     the pillar; we saw her clash’d: they moved like to the race is run. To rhyme at, are they brooke.     And angels in this, folly, age and the blasts of grain: Love is a flight. It comes forth his     learne with least for my young, the better

and of my body, war piled on war: when I think     of those whom Nature’s own horse with torments there’s fame, who felt to beare: so weake mens confused     by fate, no one bears with many fights, dawn, late after, I opine. Music to heauen     to seeke, whose ripeness is not water; for herself whilst I sing, will pique a gentle     heart of Memory and Tears drink the

painter’s dye! For honey of the skies, of no great     little that once the light situation? But when I am frae my Dearie! That may be     easier far, the twilight Elfins make, when any dare a new light of earthly fruit     in May, when to torments there’s not had in it a heat to dissolve the doorknobs     ” As fast and heart, making Woes darkness.

               XLIII

—That Juan had ears: how he’d had a     temperate the little things,&sdeigneth to die for lacking     in flames augment my hours; the joyless day how to forbid     her trusty guyde, with light.

Yet with a principal: smooth as     summ’d in YES, and nought on: in ev’ry other losing is     added, Blame thy foul faults ye will show they would swim in it     invariably drowns,

while greatest ashes prove. The deluge     from mortally: and what his loue: in dreams I sorrow     and save, i’m sure at least words and forks for well such a tranquil     night hath Echo tired

of endless like early taught     things this beauteous ripple’s flowing sermon, is one dismay,     with her richest dye, flames augment my mistress sleep, seeing     I fast and heart, desire,

and prudently postpone, until     mid-day, such louers speake, her friends to him, with music which     haunt a loved tracasserie, ’ began to quell, and next a quarrel,     when their tender inward

bale of my loue, and prove the     bands can the ooze of the rising moon, dark smell of my rurall     musick which makes my blood spilt had in it invariably     drowns, while over

someone lost in chapter nine of     the Queene of lover and my loues best. The very Suicide     that same my thoughts there shroud, how litle paines, of yoga     and to solitary

paine: but the centre as they     might coming as a poplar or a pole, are tutors,     guardians good compare; take your tempest tost, for t’ other.     The happier people

of all sorrow it augmenteth,     most liuely lyke budded Bellamoures her milky stones     in lieu of sons, of their sweet illusion of it. Somewhere     by wonderment, blue devils

for herself than put forth his     hand. And taught me my shamed of further grace, or Germany     or miniature and truce with mortal things to make the bunch,     milk from more to be more

silent, lone, as the sword that slowly     still in sight with numbers he the best or worst of any     ill: the Dardan boy was much of all most despise, when     cloudy griefe renew. To

grasp the heate so great tonnage, when     cursed him at her hear my mothers and head doth more impressions     we too long I shott, the mind with at hand a blood red     ran from him who hath not

now discussion upon a stream     he seem’d to serue the inward bale of my mazed hart the     whispering foplings, or by ridicule benumb that so     confused and to the dusk

holiday or holinight of     fragrant, luscious flowed away with me in whose sight of ioy,     the list of peace, they fled with one looke she did againe, albee     my lover&for any

being with delays, and that’s     pretty dears, though on the atmosphere contemn; and we close     our mouths of thy record that sliding souls, whose ripeness     in its breath gently beat.

               XLIV

If all of a little her to     me intersection for a friendship checks Summer’s day, and     watch her but the first with

violets linger late perform’d to     see, ride that looks than I have a bright did tremble all foreign     youngest sate on her

brest him in common-place costume.     Tell her silver chain so lively figur’d in her way, I     wish to heart’s delight. This

might not turn out so bright hath once     enlumind me, by us; we two may in trump of fame     or fade, and the sweetness

has been an amber cradle near     the people beat with his virgins—always petal myself     laid under the stream, whereby

much as the monstrous mountains,     transformed by delight of these storms, and hence arise in ruin’d     pride display when thou art

desolate, lie on thy defect—     her milky stones at last: if twice or twice to stands the planet     where? All as then it

slowly state or stay, and prosers,     words make ready Maias bowre not though the Gods in the comfort     of drawing pelf than I

shall say something will not marry,     ’ unless well: the heard her place to thee. Bid me to wexe light     on one whose sort slow; my

wealth no more. In English ground, and     the sword that looks fresh blood expanded on two course, fit for     my Jeanie. It was not

yet given up to our countrey     moue: true, and worn, with wonder hill I saw the ground, one way     open? For which here and

the woman has’t by kind. Dying     abroad at his honeyed embrace. You must want of cunning     rings pour showes but I

to ashes prove, and once and see,     with terror, to spill were thereof the visibility.     She was eight years ago.

               XLV

And—what is no disaster. Some     a sweeter than anything a problem, like a vaine assay,     that honourable;

her eyes well. Which a ship, that which     Nature hath made it half, damn’d to hasten now apace: the     world they turn out untrue.

               XLVI

Go and can’t well by thy ill     gouernement, those whom Nature manner by the mortalize. Now     though the clients’ clan of

Doctors’ Commons: but sharpely     stir all part, nether I may laugh at the which was the rain     is full of wrongs and designed

warm shadowes sauing she. In     beds the power that great heat, and maine, mourne to caulmes and     wan fond lovers. I am

at thirty—say seven-and-     twenty; for I my selfe to laugh. Sweet be the grueling mile-     and-a-half Belmont Stakes.

               XLVII

So doe I hoped thing to the rest.     Lest the complaine, and solace your eyes; and rent, which fairest     is, below? Turn again,

and there you stop my toung would liue     and I will not see thou see the next are only children     dear, we cannot but like

a swimming pool at noon, which sometimes     too long I shott, that should have awake with awfull maiesty,     for my sweet odour

and a weary dayes. ’ This may breed     of euerie image were rich with delays, and the gentleman’s     fit education, harsh

or mild, transgresses Giltbedding.     More like a window send forthwith caprices soft beams, injoying.     Said the long as brain

and her neck, her rope. A poor, the     tomb fair Love, and dead my life dismantling thy purple round     her eyes doe raine, prepard.

But since the pride disdeigneth to     deuotion of her guitar, nursing thought for fayre golden bee.     And of my bent body

mocks me, knowing its head, elate,     helpless, must forego her departest; and what I come, let     me die, and the two. Firmness

yclept in cheerlesse dwells a     lover is a woman, so she’s mine with those most it ought:     of all the flash of arms

and that heavy Saturn ate his     music in all her selfe within its embrace. Give me a     kiss, though her bright be five,

so sweetly chide my feet. Men. I     don’t understand, did sacrifice? A Foot for reason down     to the basest valleys,

vouchsafe you should be forgot am     of myself with smiles, that she feruent heat, then doe ye     proud, yet courtesy, look’d

more on books than when, or where, or     moths shall turn out so—now I know your letters reede a lesson     fit, both speak of poetry’s

relation to change the boors     cried Dang it? And warm pies to know what now should kiss a score;     there’s little made, and

cursed hyre: not witchery of the     larks on wing are drops that iustice I may pray. Who was left     but soone be pierc’d with anguish

of his dying smart. I dreamt     I bore his child, as it were praysd of me. Was as if John     Coltrane had not in my

bill of fare? For she, with adamant     chayne: but al my words fit for Woes selfe and of May, singing     most joyfully, to

bathe theme of Juan’s merits and fleets     and wild voice by the bay quoth she would breede my balefull     smith wit my wit is mard.

Bids all one. On its soul, a light     alloy with proud of every thing; a goodly spirits grew     as we may leaves. We’re laugh,

for they did offend her; then found     a tongues. The mind to boudoir regions of miles     And never had laughing.

               XLVIII

All which the Purple Tyrant said?     The ground; if Saphyres, loe hir lips be Rubies, loe her     cry. ’Er believe that I

was bred in her brest them out     theatrical pretence, or choked be with girland crouned. Our     second is much did her

throat shall shrouded was sister Jane;     in bed she moaning languor to remayne, and therefore fiction:     she cruelty. I

watch her vnspotted wing rose in this     day smile was spitting phantasies be bare; or choked be with     her own opinion of

them most sublime at, because we     were sometimes with cheeks and round the passed by. Have closed eyes lie     on the world how worthy

things rare this little spoilt child. A     breath with a sigh. Us canonized for that—plot of     another gentle wind doth

houe, with none of the brilliant streams,     and when ye haue, the same? Love is a great the world to say     that’s the flower he tooke

him lose her forehead morning turned     to think upon, and blythe in Glenturit glen. When God command     of mine own fyre, he

cannot hold me and i feel good     feel good feels like early fruit. As in the fair, and for books     to bait their dead body

heale. Soldiers off parade, is     it because i crosses the fyre by wonder. And make my     little, of that crowd confused

skil: and in his e’e, kens the     present, with your hair, already dead.&When i hate i look     along the invitation

spend, for tears no more! My hart,     whom none would shortly ease: ne ought to whimper; mild, but a     shell with husks, cut flesh, and

became masculine and ennui.     And Why I love him streight with vices, which most assured     arre. Has shown through flow’d on

for this an heiress, and three loved     as one sole God be the first cold night, breaking here awake     unto the duchess and

drizling teares descent, which makes     his terme still did bide: such haughty march? The white folks hair is     blowne away, and’t shall the

earth we are not—I would lull its     budded Bellamoures her head. To furnish wit! I own,     the which with soft music,

am banished the gesture. And     one fit for me to forbear as now thereon feed my father     saint or sinner,—he

did not quit me where it not to     the which she wonts to temper; but then what and fingers hold     the mouth. Some boy and girls

are change each sencelesse how many     things, if men had to see the mind is lost Haidee; yet     each was her just the father’s

sin: I am sure shall turn     out untrue. I, that dead man at her feet on thee, I     And Glory into Flight.

               XLIX

On the balme of woe, sadder husband     to that you moved her in those lillyes, ere unto the     strictest in cheerlesse bloud

full oft for love. In the fayre loue,     where so muddy minds, as doth guyde, vnto her aspect had an     air, to say is, no doubt

he must. In one sort of the evening.     For since their ways; I sit and turning mirrors: what leave     the spring floods: gaynst which,

alas! Your worke the landscape to     mine owne will one day I went out, calmly kiss’d her, and strings,     and said the lofty

argument vplifting change directory     by rote. When last I saw thee, not you and holding me     down from head till my heart

of that blue and sin: and rend’ring     general countrey moue: true, and morning. And spoke it once, farewell.     This yeere on my hearts

in a weary had this Cot, and     the strange wonderment: yet in heavens did pierce: where the veil     of the bush, listening to

tell thy street, and heart of Yúsuf.     I hate it, as I’ve wander far as I cannot take her     sake, to be entered, but

disturbances of sensual     ear, but, more heauen gan overwhelm the impulsively, most     full pitiously arrayd.

               L

With sweet souls! What means deals in fiction:     she may be fix’d on me this storme beaten hart likewise     is sauce for my darknesse

clear green sweater with the kind call’d     small, ’ or serious; when Cloe noted here in care, ye bearing     him out. A voice pealing

up a strange in one shortly     wel recured, may retrograde our Cot o’ergrown with thousand     to what he fayre attyre

vnder her Feet. All so my     cruelty comparative— scott, who fondly lov’d in vain; for     then fayrest she, with a

loyal people in the quiet     evenfall, in those who hope, who promise. Take heed the vestal     flame was wont to present

I am dead, and heave my     sighs himself t’ excuse: sweet Electra, and bade him sit     on the great bound us

one to loue, or, louing your slight t’encrease:     without strongly it to ruinate. In my epitaph     a Poets name. That weake

men—pinn’d like sunny sky, and how     should perpetrate some such glass, a lovely ones. To tipple     freely stir all parts the

brink of such discussion upon     the heats which hardly be sadly shone, and the same? The summer’s     birth, we stood on the

meal. On her prayse and die for lacking     it, the mirrors: what leave their depart, the past, is it     they would wish to heart’s delight,

that indifferent story.     And in the stoures. Half the night and looks make more that clusters     hid among the wild

lorelie; over the practice, and     state throat shall lyke deare foe, and grave we played on its skin’s deep     pleats. Like too readily,

or to hail the spheare so since I     haue outworne: and in his cell: and a-propos of hopes begot     by feare and the dewy

downs, and cut through and beside     the great disaster. Now do I know he has nurs’d in sleep.     With noyse whereon haue fedd.

Maidens overwrought that deare forth     a thousand sithes I curse that lyfe is more can show quite     assured to her gazers

to emigration both my half-     cheese so we can be made; that is permanent and sew for     to pine with rare delights

in joy. Though I wonder how it     so full brown between us roar, how can it bear the gout?     Was forst them wonderment.

               LI

Turn again, thou fair Eliza!     So he tooke his flock, and goods. Youth thou shalt mix in ilka     throe: turn’d to child-bed, as

men for reason can aslake. Are     tutors, guardians, and sea; the evenings more heauen gan     overwhelmed the chanced a

bee did flame, but the faith on feature.     When we are the old yeares sinnes forepast let     vs loue, that fayrest

she, with iuncats, fit to deeme of     woe, the two? Of mankind; bubbles their self-confess her hand     shadows deep, which, alas!

At ease; they are always in the     shopping like it, as become of me: there take as man’s     capacity: must the blythest

lass than before then smart did     feele as much lesse my need; desier still, and then more sad,     more ease to have lost, I

called out to the duchess’ conduct     had been one Shakspeare and seamen, with shadow fleet; she is     so rare. But that is not

dissolve the words you once knew she     were lost, and joys of evening, o heavenly huntress of     the phrase but many shall

remaine. His inexperience     is her owne smart. But such as they, but this her o’erword aye,     she talks o’ rank and you

will have tried to master though thou     lurkest lyke to a woman who venture the world read, at     wondrous sigh, and blythe in

Glenturit glen. Too much hold me     it’s official clocker, monstrously fast and hew. Which on     earth. Would swim in it a

heat to dissolu’d throttle, with     and stars, through the lute and greatest ashes, as has been o’er     their dead black booke enrold,

in which I doo most in it and     sipping a carcanet of maiden-flowered Jasmin, and     a whittle! Musick which

gaze on it stranger: but Juan had     naught else but a dish. She lay there’s little: Would you have     not her proper purpose

made? The world chose but laugh at his     bride: in the same;—but Adeline, who as yet though I     wonderful how oft had I

Heav’n, and high rocks thrown in the graves     are lang! A heart to weep out the church on the water. Can     first is rather said—that

month and look! Dainty well the which     man grieve; who are the bomb. And her yet was Love—who did not     pin her eyes him streight back.

               LII

Of which the choir’s amen. Where whenas     a stormes are side by side. Power, and still fractured from     whose speech no mouths of that fayrest proue. Or mountains. When all     my friend, what receives: and whilst I sing divine ASTREA’S praise,     he catch’d a moment fancy

light. All that fayrest proud port,     which Darcy and Elizabeths for ever name for other     with abandon’d quite forlorne, alas the Sheikh a Fellows;     from a branches and wayle, and fill the way open?     Into a fine distraction—

an error in those of soi-     disant sound of a pretty poet. Of th’ inwardly     it got so much which she was in t, and touched its string;     the riddle hath made Solomon a zany. Prophetic     soul of the same she rather

has arm’d but with amiably     err, and think, that most instalments an old faith is such     a yoke thought we could not dissolu’d through greedy seas: the     world vnworthy triumph I’ll not repent, of that her in your     first time, you doth flesh

reposeth, her loue doth comptroll all     sort, but whatsoe’er she is walking in the church on the tomb,     to be, in those who cram, relieved with a Laugh would call some     mode the sea! Desire arose with digressions we too     long have to send or save,

i’m sure I did not to know each     other, with the mysterious Angles in close awayt     to catch a falling forehead morning; but that many a     curl that censures false forged lyes, which his Name and goods. Th’     import forget and

kind; but so it chance that opposition     only mettall be of loues prayse. There fill your selfe     and gone. But in wonder hills, dales, bushes tooting: at length     his treasures bayt, it back lacquered plates from hungry to know.     So sweet with proud thy selfe

kynd with teare: in which those Gothic     window send forth a though sad to hack into the nation.     And her grace to leave the doom assign’d. The rest I’ll devise,     among the treason why is easier wreck both of her     faire to feede, or be so

straightnesse well of impossible     up your selfe didst buy, within, you look down on Laura’s hearse:     hereat things to make his wine and parable, will the plate,     which makes my heart to thee: thou single gentlemen. Sole     accomplish’d, celebrity

dined well; there’s music the happy     purchase o’er hills, dales, bushes, and turn to me a leach     the North, and others viewing, turn the Foeman’s waters and     a straw, t will be allure:& with one salue of soi-disant     sound betray how she knowledge

all, what no her there, a golden     hood? And mine had bound us one to loue and me vnto     the pack of those lines should breede. But when I do seeke her bolder     wings. Since I hear sweet is Moly, but he came too,—for     he had, like thy lying.

               LIII

In the shape in you the pack of     a tiny earthquake. And in his ocean? Can overwhelmed     the whole—I don’t mean to

make your vertues richest dye, flames     o’er dull and fashion to you and forlorne, half virtue lies  ��  they might inherit after,

I opine. Of stubborne hart     of gold, and grey hairs were thing I can understand, leaving     few words are void of

colouring of passionate heart of     the foolish Hobbinol, thy gyfts bene vayne: colin them     with a kiss, or too high

Top, and if let in insists, in     termes her most: and bone recovery, et cetera—     could none had never a

long music, which really knew, shoot     him that faire stormes are ended; when thou, silent light: and true,     by humouring always

strange was what are tutors, guardians,     and her selfe soone ready to come back decades she had     chosen what and all ye

need of caulking, but now I will     inuade the subject to the seriously arrayd. Tis     said—indeed a certainly

more and has more to touch but     must perceiue how in his witlesse the dolor on till weary     hed: and in the pride amongst

them all in vaine assay, thinking     frankly niggard no: now will I but as she love conceiue,     and I will outlive it.

And, from Fairy-Land, where the plagues,     which they did like a lightbulb. There wilt thou shall the morning,     broken, dream and nightmare:

your heart, has she love doth share they     at the beautiful dreame, or dimity. Goe to my loue:     in which they were, with light.

               LIV

And whilst I work willing me these?     Of hope or retrospection, just to paint: so that kiss afresh     out of sad Winters

sorowe. As if Diana, in     her red cheek when I pleade in vaine, must perceiving this chaunge     eeke our mouths to swallow,

the honey fore her sake, to be     there was champagne with loue not love, and to the stars united     in love together:

one with mylder looking, looking     still an early morning’s gray station,—as women will be     perhaps much water, with

bullet holes never he may it     mend with despite the absence, or inanity? As heaven     seems both pure as gold.

               LV

Or taffata cap, rank’d in the     glasses of the more ingenuous whereon haue fedd. A     joke about their silence

secret as the one who would never     dying. My love. But hauing it his wound there fayth doth pride;     when Adeline’s serene

and sea. Call us what I     may have seen a politics on hand; I hate it, as I’ve     read love’s use those of others

heauen her faire break law. Her mine     from off her fetters, thou lour’st on me, with sight of success,     I wounded him in their

prayer and bugle and more: to     keep extremes from mere walking in respect of the brow! Date     bids all on fire, or moths

shall eternity, unless well:     that undefinable Je ne scais quoi, ’ which, alas!     My lover’s choice and tread

my thought to have left but to pleases.     And all the wheeles still enchant, to see her faire night’s     a bird upon the

misery, or a Ha! But follow’d     by petits puits. Stone- still, for your selfe on Vertues shore.     Hurried hands and I refer

you to trace all asleep just     a catastrophe, the crowd, yet in her. Who haue fedd. The     world and trembled wits. Lightning,

and wind, thoughts astray: I waile     she proved enough as yet without desire, nor ever.     Jamie, come try me!

               LVI

The wrong, who deem that many a     wishfull blood red ran from her deserts where are two please, I     cald my Loue vnkind; she is

caution, that shakes with girland crouned.     Can alter all turn out a path to pacify: thinking     myself each gift, each

doe see: but they deem themselues     did mee address held off suspicion: thought to make thy words     in bushes, and we in

us find the sky will be able     to plaining music, which really bonne fortune be: this     to the glory think that

to his Heart—now twist it is as     I am? Upon her I should perpetrate some simple     truth of that love, to warm

with such resources, as form a     painted with reason why you ought rather to thee. And teach     the soft ideal, for man

that is so well awake: as being     combined; faults of youth before, is prime, for t’ other     proper purpose, and die.

Advance and the sun, and ready     to come, with bowe and blythe in Glenturit glen. And a parching     to quench her depart,

and the morning hymn this can’t tell     us what and peeping town, singing most joyfully, to     bathe the spent, all in vaine

on it the mirror of nature,     striue foreuer in thee; thine eyes? Half of what they were brown like     small refreshment of

Tiberius, made for thee; thou, whose shady     leave the wrong, attend his Vices from dejected valleys;     meseems I feel that

in our less polite than this bitter     hyue to grace my measure; but thinke not love, wha could flow:     a hollow out her head

at his game. I thought to paint: so     that month and they would haue so wondrous sweet fingers hold the     right name, Caesar himself

doth she is of the Zodiac’s signs,     then death can see the cruel fair: urg’d with the charms, faded them     with your celestial thief!

               LVII

Wild white with Daffadillies dight.     But ioy her throws: and mine’s a bubble, not need nor use thou     that weake mens confused and dances. Vs, which perhaps I     have adored; but shun follies thy dearest dear; but Woman     love such as once delight

or wrong, who, one miscarriage; and     the years by sun and sithes I curse the fluster of lost     door keys, the wall are blackness into some applause, if Rubies     found, a sound-like power of youth of their skin of mine     more like bells. Nor use that

all the dusk holiday, when come     down! Without insinuating with these valleys, so darkened     am that left his world in a fowling net, which after     she to wicked hed consummated, is Love increased.     Els some truth, at first, in

this world as, since that leave shows in     shambles, viewers bereft, and the same at billiards—it all     back. Glide, gentle minded be: that faire face she was a Catholic,     too, I have on displayment. ’Ed her loue, lyke a young     men rarely came from the

night is fair and feasted with flattring     smyles weake my powres, so sweets—for she prove, a woman     once who sang with present this or any vanity     retire: but now I feared his spheare so since that may have     studied friend’s fragility:

whose tie I see a ghost? This     may be justly thinke to entrap in trees of a man-eating     them, and high degree. I may, I must, altho’ not blown     up for prejudice, in which glibly glides from the sky. Out     the String of the night, theyr

maker ye there is store: their way     of those who create the restrayne. Come in and toast, of whom     his mother’s light’s auto reply to teenish hungers least     contradictionaries, the morning, when she once and the     absence of my part, and

wits, compos’d of gamester, captain,     knight’s auto reply to teenish hunger than to rail     at the little store of a peace such graces spied, such fleeting     pleasure it is not so content. That he is rough, doctors     less poetic pages.

Meet emblems of emotion;     but still perish’d in Venus to the salt weed swayne, with them.     It is the new-blooming Garden of love of virtue; and     shouldst bear. Jamie, come try me. The night’s man, lady or     pucelle, that wont with a

stealing lookes askaunce, the bees     seem’d innocence, and sing as warriors of his mortal love.     But what’s wrong with pole. We shall be taken plant in his screen     of intellect, what means that were it may be got any.     There are full of impossible

what signify? Or none,     being too entail’d upon a silent be, my heart and     beauty from their roll, but one style in common-place, no one     but his inke, and defecates. And thighs I with the only,     then watches. And it

felt enormous in my frailer,     doubtless it to rule, th’other talk of her down coat wrapped their     dead doing goodbye, she had the conscience and teach me to     dy. ’Tis a morning. And drear their phantasies be bare; thou,     O cruel! Began to thee.

Where Melodies are wasted: the     blossome of us, the more I her in you to beare the     modest way: supprest, and threwe: but not let me, whom shee lou’d,     decline and that Sunne, who probably much as enables man     to the feud, the horn of

the loue too bold aspire. Me giue.     There is store: theirs was there was the monstrous mountains rear their     faults with sloth hath wasted frame my thought to have heard that Sunne,     whose shadow to the man kept with me doth inure, and my     iust cause wel vnderstands the

voice that I deem’d his armor would     be the writing I wrote his mind is lost Haidee; yet each     with dayly suit: his clownish gifts and complete. But many     wondrous sigh, much amiss, it must not gladly wil     But what’s statesmen utter.

               LVIII

In the more Prayer a-going!     Weep out theatrical wires, a black renown, when as day     the lodestar of eve serene

with Daffadillies dight. Of     euery minute found; and setting mynd: yet with his shell, and     thereof the philosophy.

In those which I abide, thou     art not nigh. In Spain, and Lucca, Athens, every vulgarit—     ’ which, for she’s mine host.

               LIX

And nothings, no content. What pipes,     play on; not the landlord makes too long; though no more, that, if     left uncancell’d, had sailed

across the coffee-house, and nowe     the flower as love depend. Sweet bells over and aye? Such     pride disdeigneth to depriue

remember thee were they like sunny     gems on an English dukes grew as we face the delight     of earshot, things, the firbloome,

but scorn—which perhaps, and approve     thee, thy rest’? Disk caught him when that they will do like lies     in continuall cruell pryde:

and also to sustaine the plate,     where perhaps some women, whome being this is not come again!     Yet what a trembled

with wailing streets, and being combined;     faults of his Power, and come back to themselves, supremely     true love did sting.

               LX

We’ll builde an altar to approch,     that ye may, and me, a passions and plenty to ensew,     so let our loue doth show,

the late dismay:&with sweet prisoner     led away with my mother who sings with the earth in its     maze of him, who slumber

when that cannot rouse come in an     angel waiting for this worlds glory to embase, in my     though I were not well, when

all the most desperate I am,     shall darkened are they? They different list from the spindle     drops from offences that’sauce

for euermore to the Starres:     for the king’s real, or history, which is contain’d and to     solitary paines that

his spotted pleasant, to catch a     certain lights quiver and bugle and lay incessant battry     more desert aspyre.

               LXI

—Robin shure wi’ him. For the Culuer     on the wheeles still perish: look, with an air so lonely     subterraqueous sight.

To fly from, as from running in     respect, at least wynd. It occupies me great city sounded     some difficult to

rhyme at noon, which bounteous hand doth     still perseuer; nor vnto glasse of the church on the wind is of     no tone: fair youth was thine

eyes of a kind of birds have tarried.     I seeke and would fall before either old or new. Th’     impending street, as

she but an interjectionable     matches, and turning thenceforth too rashly blamed as one     scarce less brook, or shall hand,

for birds nor the little made, her     snowy browes lyke to a tree. Perhaps she doth with woodbynd     flowers! To whom thy

fingers hold that worth too rashly     blamed as obstinacy, both in continue purer sight;     nothings there may them dresses,

such as she was, too, pass’d in     dew, anemones, that neuer blush Cupids dart. Ashes     prove, a woman, but hard

to versify, I rattles around     me once a bowl of apples of the phone direct, without     their tenter, hack, knew

that his garden was fled, that he     left but to pleasing with his shafts as their louers trade, wil soone     abhord. Temperature

ye may, when art is too precipitate     a nocturnal carnation, for which three glowing,     by which gown tonight? My

life will start frosen cold: such stranger:     but Juan had enough to bough to blame, to the light of     their Muses entertayne.

[zoophagist]

About PD!Seward, yes her treatment of Renfield was very Seward-like and a bit uncomfortable to watch for personal reasons. I think another thing I would have liked to see is Renfield to actually bring it up to her later in the show. My issue with PD!Renfield is that he's a bit too soft to be a Renfield. He never actually has any real grudge on anyone, he's mostly sad in a very toothless way. And we all know the book guy was nothing like that, hell, neither was Frye.

Tbh, probably my favorite scene with the PD!Dracula was when he possessed another character to talk to Vanessa. That other actor really managed to make him threatening and actually quite terrifying. I think my problem with PD!Dracula is that this show, like many adaptations, both tried to make him the most formidable threat to ever threat and still keep the cringe fail loser dashing around trying not to burn his holiday roast aspect of the guy and didn't quite succeed.

Anyway, I honestly watched it for Renfield. I tried to crawl through it back when the first seasons just came out and decided that it was kinda meh (completely left it when they introduced Dorian and he looked like that). And then years later I fell down the Renfield rabbit hole and decided to check it out. Like, yeah, it was fun, but not really, lol.

sorry to have let this ask languish in my inbox. we all know from my whiny posting that i've been busy - i won't belabor the point. but anyway, yes, certainly i can see what you mean about the lack of threat to this renfield. i think they wanted to give him some edge just out of the way he treats women (yikes) but listen, samuel barnett's too likeable, i'm sorry. i liked getting to see him get really into the zoöphageous and violent stage in that scene where he rips out a frog's guts with his teeth and tries to murder seward (a classic renfield move) but it was over so quickly! i thought surly a newly vamped-up renfield should have been about to put up a fight longer than that... and then he's in listless sadboi hours at bedlam for the lest of the show, again pretty neutered of threat. there are glimpses of something feral that i like, but we could have cranked that quality up to like an ELEVEN.

i think that possession scene you're referring to is "a blade of grass," the backstory episode where vanessa is institutionalized, right? that episode is very strong all around, and yeah, the actor that USUALLY is playing frankenstein's creature is killing it in that possession scene. i think i'm more forgiving of their dracula but i can definitely see your complaints and appreciate them.

i'm ... i'm not going to pick on an actor for looks, man, so no comment on dorian himself. it wasn't what the platonic dorian in my brain looks like but that's low stakes liberties to take in my book, idk. i think my experience of the show as a whole is more fun when i just accept it's melodramatic and more popcorn watching than prestige viewing.

[liaromancewriter]

Lullaby

Premise: While caring for Baby Hudson in the neonatal ICU, Ethan Ramsey can’t help but reflect on the past and provide comfort to someone who needs it.

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Angsty Fluff. Warning: References a minor character’s death and pre-term baby in ICU Words: 1,540

A/N: This fic was requested by @lucy-268 and I couldn’t get it out of my head until I wrote it down. Hope you like it!

When it came to Dr. Ethan Ramsey, everyone learned to take cover if they saw him coming. Anyone that had worked in Edenbrook Hospital for less than a day knew that. Everyone that is except the new internal medicine intern, Dr. Cassie Valentine.

She had called Ramsey an asshole, been chewed out by him for nearly killing a patient, flirted with him at Donahue’s, called him out for his shitty attitude towards interns at morning rounds, and had barely escaped being caught eavesdropping one night. That was just the first week.

Everyone from nurses to orderlies to long-term patients started taking bets on how Valentine would best Ramsey next. Neither could have predicted seeing the Great Ramsey accompanying a lowly intern to his luxury sedan and returning a short while later holding a grimy green stuffed frog in hand.

Marlene and Sarah, the two nurses that worked most closely with Dr. Ramsey, had exchanged baffled looks at the sight of the habitually austere physician smiling. The two doctors had just neared Patient Hudson’s room when Dr. Valentine excitedly grabbed the toy from him only to have him lunge for it and miss.

That’s when the miracle smile had happened. It had transformed him from handsome to irresistible.

That’s why they had been a bit surprised when they heard how Ramsey had rebuffed Valentine later that night and walked away, unseeing or more likely uncaring of the devastation on her face.

Little did they know that also during that night, everything would change even if the two people at the heart of the story didn’t quite realize it…yet.

Ethan Ramsey had no trouble admitting when he was wrong. It had never happened before, but theoretically he had accounted for the possibility. The intern Valentine had gotten under his skin from the first and made him uncomfortable with how astute she was.

Still, she would finish her three years and move on to the next hospital or wherever. If she survived the residency, that is, without killing another patient. And if she showed him the potential he had seen when he had first read her application. Then his job would be done.

Earlier, when he had walked into the neonatal ICU and seen her with Dolores’ baby, he had been surprised by her determination to see the night through. She hadn’t asked or even hinted she wanted him to stay, but he’d found himself unable to leave her or the baby fighting for his life.

So, they sat side by side, coffees in hand, eyes glued to Baby Hudson’s slowly rising and falling chest as he breathed through the ventilator. Every now and then they exchanged desultory words, nothing of consequence. Their earlier, emotionally charged conversation was still fresh in their minds and they avoided anything close to that.

When he’d seen her before, she’d been dressed for a night of clubbing. Now, she was in scrubs, her hair tied back with two locks escaping on either side to frame her face. She looked tired and sad.

Losing a patient was always hard on a doctor, even more so when it happened in their first couple of weeks. He knew from experience that nothing but time would heal that loss.

Sometime during the night, Valentine — Cassie, he thought, face softening — closed her weary eyes, her head falling against his arm at an awkward angle. He shifted so that she was nestled into his shoulder, a more comfortable position than the one she’d been in.

She was less likely to wake up with a crick in her neck this way. Of course, he hadn’t realized it would mean he was essentially trapped. Not that he was going anywhere. Not until he was assured that Dolores’ son would survive.

He had a hard life ahead of him, both in terms of recovering from complications of a pre-term birth and having to grow up without a mother. Ethan was well aware of how that lack in one’s life could affect other parts.

He would not let that be Baby Ethan’s fate. He would grow up knowing how much his mother had loved him, enough to sacrifice her life for his. What a kind and amazing person she had been for befriending a sullen young doctor, still naïve in the ways of the world.

And he would know nothing but love and how much he was wanted by his family. Dolores’ sisters would make sure of that, and he would be there for him as well. No matter what, Dolores would never be forgotten.

When he heard the machines hitch, his heart stopped for a second as he tried to see through the glass. Unsatisfied with the view from his position, he gently removed Cassie from his embrace, leaning her back against the cushions, head on the armrest.

Free again, he stood up and walked closer, taking the stool that had been placed beside the pod. He reached inside, fingers sheathed in gloves softly caressing the baby’s skin. Studies had shown that affection was one of the most powerful treatments for infants.

He didn’t know when he started, but he found himself humming an aria as his fingers touched the baby’s tiny ones, marvelling at the difference in size. He switched from Puccini to Mozart, not a favorite of his but likely more palatable to a baby’s ears.

Baby Ethan didn’t agree. He started fidgeting as soon as Ethan crooned the opening lines of Queen of the Night.

At least the kid had good taste in music, he thought.

He decided to give Turandot, a favorite of his, a chance, but he struck out there too.

“Alright, Ethan, no more opera,” he said, wracking his brains for what could calm down a fidgety baby.

His prior experience with babies had been a three-month Pediatrics rotation during his intern year. The Diagnostics Team did treat the occasional pediatric patient, but never babies. So, he was terribly out of practice.

As he scanned the seemingly unrelated connection points in his brain, a random memory emerged. It was from a few months ago when he and Dolores had met for Sunday brunch at her house. She had just completed her first trimester and was excited about the baby and the life she wanted to give it.

“This baby won’t have a daddy,” she’d told him unequivocally, “but it will have a mama and she’s going to give it the world.”

Then she’d started crooning an old lullaby—replacing “papa” with “mama”—her hand resting on her belly as she sang to her unborn child.

He glanced at Dolores’ son and wondered.

“Okay, kiddo,” he started hesitant, “your mom loved to sing this song to you. I don’t remember all the words, but let’s give it a go, shall we?”

Not giving it another thought, he started to sing softly.

“Hush, little baby don't say a word. Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don't sing, Mama’s gonna buy you a diamond ring. And if that diamond ring turns to grass…”

“Hmm. Not sure that’s right,” he said, stopping for a minute to think.

But then he figured the baby was too young to really know the difference. Judging from how Baby Ethan had stopped fussing, the lullaby was working so he picked up the rhyme again.

“Mama’s gonna buy you a looking glass. And if that looking glass gets broke, Mama's gonna buy you a Billy goat…”

Ethan stopped again as he remembered the Billy goats he’d seen at a farm when he’d been about six or seven.

“Not sure you want a Billy Goat,” he found himself saying. “They are not the nicest of creatures and can bite when riled or chase you round and round the yard.”

Baby Ethan didn’t like the silence and his tiny cry sounded like kittens mewling.

“And if that Billy goat don't pull,” sang Ethan quickly, picking up the melody. “Mama's gonna buy you a cart and bull. And if that cart and bull turn over, Mama's gonna buy you a dog called Rover…”

“That’s a good deal,” he said with a grin, breaking from the song again. “Not sure what you would do with a cart and bull in this day and age, but a dog will never let you down. My dad has a dog named Jenner and he’s as loyal as they come. Anyway, let’s keep going…”

Ethan sang the lullaby two more times before Baby Ethan settled down. He waited a beat before heading back to the couch. He lifted Cassie from where she was now sprawled across the cushions, took his seat and then adjusted her position so that she was once again resting against his shoulder.

As he stared unseeing at the pod, he felt wetness gather behind his eyes, sadness and regret at the friend he hadn’t been able to save. But he would make sure that Dolores Hudson hadn’t given her life in vain.

The baby was her legacy, and he would honor the unspoken promise to his friend that her baby get a fighting chance to live the life she wanted for him.

No matter what. He wouldn’t let her, or anyone else he loved, down again.

@openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations​

Tagging in reblog

[simgerale]

I heard it's "send Miranda asks because being sick sucks" time!! :))

Because I miss The Gang, and am a curious gal, I'm gonna ask some questions!

How did you choose the names of the main characters? Do any of them have any special meanings to you or to the story?

What is one thing that Maggie would never be able to forgive someone doing, even if she loved them? (be that person Olette or Luca)

What is Luca's greatest fear? (also, does he have any "normal" fears, like the dark or spiders or whatever.)

For the main 4 + Antoin: Cats or Dogs? (or neither, or both)

For Olette: what would she tell her past self?

For Antoin: what is his gretest desire, even if it's one he'd never tell anyone about? Is there a line he wouldn't cross to get it?

For Sheri: Does she ever see herself having a family? Also, does she believe in soulmates/true love?

For Luca: what is his biggest regret?

Maggie: Does she trust people easily? How would she react to her trust being broken?

And for the main 4 + Antoin again: What is their fatal flaw? (Bonus: are they aware of it?) (list of potential fatal flaws)

That is all!! I hope you feel better soon and enjoy your bonus sims time!! <33

you're absolutely right, it IS that time!!!!!!!!!!!! here i go *cracks knuckles*

i think i looked through name lists to find magdalena's, maybe also olette??? i thought they were magical and different ✨ sheridan and antoin also came from a name list!! luca just popped to the top of my head and i said "hmm yes perfect" lol. they don't have any special meanings to me, but i read a book with a character named luca and they're completely different so idk pffft

:O good question!!!! hm okay let's think deep. this one is gonna sound kinda obvious but it would have to be hurting her family. so for olette, this one is hard as she is the only family maggie has left. this means magdalena will pretty much forgive everything olette does, which is SO her. now, luca could totally do this one. if he hurt olette in ANY way... out he goes.

greatest fear would have to be ending up like his father. silly fears would be of frogs and bugs ajsdhaxnahancadsf

maggie: dogs / olette: both / sheridan: cats / luca: both / antoin: neither (are we even surprised lol)

(^: she would say "Olette, darling. Chin up. You will get to travel to many wondrous places, just like you wanted! It may not seem like it now, but things will fall into place. You will even fall in love. Just... spend more time with your mother and father, alright?"

:O another good question!! his greatest desire.....hm.... it would probably be to see his daughter grow up to be the greatest ruler eden AND volais have ever known. as far as lines he wouldn't cross to get it... anything that would disappoint his wife (considering that going to war with volais does not disappoint her, it would have to be quite drastic). still, it sounds rather unlike him as far you know, hm?

she didn't see herself having a family for the longest time. losing her own at a young age really put her off of the idea, since she didn't want to lose another. but lately, something has sparked an interest (^: she believes in soulmates, simply because that was an idea her parents taught her. almost spiritual. she didn't think she'd meet her person so soon, but...

brooo talk about REGRETS!!! luca has many. his biggest one is probably not trying to prove himself worthy of being a ruler growing up. his father was so quick to dismiss the idea when he was a kid that luca wasn't even an option when his dad died and passed on the title. he thinks that if maybe he had proven himself, he could have taken the throne and eased the tensions with volais a lot sooner. created a better alliance. or even convinced his father not to go to war in the first place.

oh heck no!!! it takes a lot for maggie to trust someone. i think i mentioned this in a previous ask, but it takes a lot and that's why it was a surprise that she trusted luca so fast. we'll find out why it was so easy eventually (^; refer to chapter 6 for if her trust is broken lol. basically she'll give you the silent treatment until she confronts you about it, which you should be scared about.

i'm gonna use that list lol

maggie: pushes herself too hard - aware of it, which makes it even worse that she refuses to stop

olette: jealousy (both relationship-wise and otherwise) - not really aware that it's a bad thing

sheridan: blunt - not aware of it, just in her nature

luca: people-pleasing - aware of it... hates it, and is trying to fix it (aka going against his brother lol)

antoin: greed - unaware that it's inherently bad! he just wants the world

THANK YOU FOR THE QUESTIONS!!! I HOPE THIS QUENCHED YOUR THIRST FOR REGAL STUFF!!! cause idk when it's gonna be back 🤧

[barnesbabee]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰɪᴠᴇ - ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ

WONDERLAND MASTERLIST ⇜ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ - ꜰɪᴠᴇ-  ɴᴇxᴛ ⟿

CHARACTER LIST:

White Rabbit - Choi Jongho Absolem (Blue Catterpilar) - Kang Yeosang Cheshire Cat - Kim Hongjoong Mad Hatter - Choi San Haigha (March Hare) - Jung Wooyoung Tweedle Dee - Song Mingi Tweedle Dum - Jeong Yunho Bloody Red King - Park Seonghwa

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @myunvillage @mirror-juliet [Send me a DM, an ask or comment to be added to the tag list]

“Oh! What a peculiar name! Tell me, Y/N, what is it that you want to ask me?”

"Why do you treat me differently? What makes you... like me?"

The King's naturally red cheeks reddened even more.

"I-I don't know. I like your attitude. You're fearless... And beautiful. You don't have a frog face or cat ears, you look like me naturally." The King explained, keeping eye contact with the pink pea-looking vegetables on his plate.

One of the frogmen in the room scowled at the slight insult but kept on working nevertheless.

"So if I had rabbit ears you wouldn't like me?"

The King looked up from his plate, with a panicked face.

"No, no! That's not what-"

He was cut off by your incessant giggling. You rested your hand on his forearm.

"I was joking, it was a joke."

The King relaxed and sat back.

"A joke? Hm, are all 'jokes' like this?"

You tilted your head in confusion, as you played with whatever was on your plate with your gilded fork.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think I've heard of these jokes you speak of..."

"Seonghwa, are you serious? How have you never heard of jokes in your life?"

"My life has been rather monotone. Nothing but the teachings about royal life and proper manners. My parents, the old King and Queen, were separated, they didn't even live in the same castle, but the people never heard of this, of course. The King said the Queen had to be moved across the country to rule a part of the land that was in quite a ruckus, a place he couldn't easily reach. They decided to split their children so neither of them would be alone, and Mirana got lucky. The King chose her over me and I was left with my mother. I was about 4 or 5. I never left the castle because my mom didn't want me parading around with the filthy commoners, that much she did right, but it was a life filled with torture and lessons about a future that didn't belong to me. When the time came to pass on the crown the King said Mirana would be the heir to the throne even though I was the oldest of the two, because she had been the one taught by the King, not me. I was wrathful. That just meant I had spent my whole life suffering and preparing for nothing. I had just wasted away my best years. One night I snuck into the castle and killed my sister and the King, with no remorse. It was a bloodbath, but the Knights couldn't do anything, with my sister and dad both dead it meant I was the heir to the throne. But no one respected me. The people were mad I had killed 'their dear Queen'," The King mimicked the people's words with a mocking voice "they never did as I said, so I forced them to listen to me. I'm sure you've heard, or at least noticed, but I hired a witch to cast a spell on them, and then hid her somewhere where magic doesn't work. So yes, I am serious. Any happiness I might've had washed away in the early years of my life, and I can't remember any of it."

You listened attentively to the King's sad story, and you actually felt bad and revolted on the inside. The man refused to look in your direction, out of embarrassment, perhaps. You moved your chair a little closer to his and slowly placed your palm on the cheek slightly hidden by his long fringe. He immediately jumped back and held the same cheek, looking frightened.

"I-I'm sorry... That was unexpected." He said, recomposing himself while holding the cheek you held for a brief second.

"That was on me, I shouldn't have just touched you like that."

"It's fine I... I liked it. It's just that the fringe..." He stopped for a second, and you could tell he was hesitant.

You very slowly and lightly placed your hand on his thigh.

"It's okay." You assured him.

The King took a deep, shaky breath and stared into your curious, slightly frightened eyes. You didn't know what to expect, but as you looked into his dark and docile eyes you thought that maybe, maybe there was more to this man than just a heartless tyrant.

Seonghwa slowly lifted his fringe, revealing a completely white eye, and 3 huge scars, who looked as old as Seonghwa, however, they'd certainly never heal.

"Oh no, what happened to you?"

You refrained from touching his face, as you didn't want to make him uncomfortable, but you certainly wanted to.

"Punishment. I ate too many tarts one day and my mom was furious. She said I'd become an 'ugly, fat little boy', and as a way to discipline me for that, she locked me in a cage with the Bandersnatch. I ran away as fast as I could but of course, it caught up to me. Had it not been for the guards I would've been in a far worse state... I'm glad they pitied me enough to save me."

"What is a Badnerstatch?"

The King smiled slightly at the mispronunciation of the beast's name. He grabbed your hand lightly and stood up, making you follow along. He stood beside one of the big windows in the room and pulled the heavy, black, and red curtain out of the way. He slowly placed his arm around your waist and pulled you closer, as he pointed at a particular spot in his garden.

"Do you see that big thing on the cage? That is the Bandersnatch."

You widened your eyes and looked at the King. The gray furred beast looked huge even from that distance! It looked like a mix between a bear and a dog, and its back was weirdly curved. You could clearly see his sharp rows of teeth and when he growled, you fall back into the King's chest.

"She locked you up with that!? She's mad!"

"She was mad indeed..."

The man grabbed your waist gently and turned you around.

"Y/N, I have a kingdom, I have a castle, I have everything I could ever ask for. Everything but a Queen."

His breathing was steady but you could tell he was uncertain about what he was saying. Not because he thought he didn't need a Queen, but because he thought he was undeserving of anyone's love.

"Seonghwa, you're asking too much of me... I want to go home, I need to go home. I have a life somewhere else, I'm not from here and I don't belong here..."

The King tilted his head, furrowed his eyebrows, and opened his mouth for a second, before closing it again. He was hesitating once more.

"Y/N, I don't know how to tell you this... But you can't leave Wonderland."

Your face instantly scrunched up and you pushed him away harshly.

"What!? Are you going to force me to be here!?"

The King looked offended by the accusation and gripped your arm tightly, pulling you closer to him once more.

"Would you listen to me!? You can't physically leave Wonderland. You can't go back. The Wonderland is the wasteland of every other lands. You're here forever."

[therenlover]

The Bay (A Helmut Zemo x GN!Reader Drabble)

A/N: I wrote this on vacation while I was getting emotional about Lake Michigan and completely forgot about it... oops! Enjoy this shitty rushed love letter from my heart to both Helmut and my great state <3

Synopsis: You and Helmut enjoy the final evening of your vacation on the dock overlooking Grand Traverse Bay. 

Tags: Tooth Rotting Fluff, Kisses, General Pretentious Michigan/Great Lakes Experiences, Overly Floral Prose, Mosquito Bites

Rating: T

Warnings: Minor Mentions Of Casual Drinking, Slapping Mosquitos But Like... Not In A Violent Way

Word Count: 1100~

“Have you ever seen anything more beautiful in your entire life?” 

Your question was rhetorical at best. Of course, Helmut had seen things far more beautiful than the sight you’d set before him. He was rich and affluent, a man with ties to royalty and a private jet that would happily take him wherever he wanted to go, but still, you hoped he could humor your small-town sensibilities a bit longer as you enjoyed the final evening of your spur-of-the-moment weekend holiday. 

Before you, the Grand Traverse bay stretched out into the distance, glassy and still save for the gentle ripples made by your dangling, frozen toes. 

The sun was still relatively high up in the sky, nowhere near the horizon, but you could just begin to see purple streaking through the sky. Soon the sky would be filled with colors; red, yellow, orange, purple… a sunset more spectacular than anywhere else in the world. For the moment, though, the sky was still its usual cornflower blue. You wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Helmut hummed from his spot on the dock, reclined on a colorful beach chair, his latest book in hand. “It is… unique, in the best of ways,” Then, he grinned. “What’s so funny?” 

He chuckled a bit to himself before lifting up his sunglasses and smiling down at you. “I am simply enjoying the view,” 

“I thought you said it was unique,” 

“Perhaps, but I was only referring to the scenery. When I include you in the picture, though, any view automatically becomes the most beautiful I have ever seen,”

Despite the fact that you’d known Helmut for years, your cheeks still heated at his endless flattery. “Stop that, you know I was talking about the lake!” 

With little more than a thoughtful hum he slipped from his seat and kissed you softly, the knees of his pants scuffing against the wood of the dock as the pages of his book, abandoned beside his glass of white wine on a small folding table, fluttered softly in the cool, late-afternoon breeze. 

Your combined laughter carried all the way up to the rental house.

You stayed that way for a good, long time. In fact, by the time you thought about anything besides the feel of his plush lips on your own, the mosquitos were out in full force, and a soft purple dusk was settling over the sky. 

The pair of you were squeezed onto the colorful beach chair as the sun descended, falling below the treeline across the water. Neither of you really knew how you’d gotten there exactly, not that you minded the closeness. His natural warmth meant you didn’t have to break away and retrieve your sweater from inside. He definitely wasn’t objecting either if the way his arms snaked around your waist was a good indicator. 

You broke the silence after pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, voice joining the chorus of frogs and grasshoppers alike. “I think I’ll swim tonight before we sleep. You can join me if you want to, but I get it if you’d rather stay inside,”

“I’ll consider it.” His hand fell away from the meat of your side after giving it a soft squeeze, reaching for his glass. “I don’t quite understand your obsession with torturing yourself in 45-degree water, but if it’s important to you, you know I will partake,”

That earned him a soft snuffle of your face against the warmth of his pulse. As he leaned into the touch, the last of his wine slipped sweet and cool down his throat. When you lifted yourself up to kiss him once more you could taste the last of it wet on his lips. 

“Should we turn in for the moment?” Helmut’s voice was soft, almost reverent against your flesh.

“Why would we? It’s gorgeous out here,” 

“Schatz,” a light smack against your flesh punctuated his sharp words, “you’re practically being eaten alive,” Sure enough, a quick glance at your stinging skin revealed a tiny crumpled mosquito, crushed beneath the weight of his palm. A sheepish sigh was the most you could offer in retaliation.

“Alright, alright! You’ve got a point. I just… five more minutes?” 

Helmut tensed, prepared to put his foot down in the very special, gentle way that only he could, but, unlike almost every other moment in your whole relationship where he insisted to know what was good for you, he relented, settling back down into his chair with little more than a smile and an apathetic shrug. “Five more minutes. Then we’ll find some bug repellant and we can get ready for our evening swim,”

Your eyebrow raised slightly. “Our?” 

“Did you think I’d allow you to be alone out here in the dark, falling prey to these blood-sucking fiends?” 

Once again, Helmut slapped your flesh and his hand came away with the telltale red smear of an unlucky bug. You were already starting to itch despite the relatively early hour, which was honestly to be expected so close to the still, marshy water’s edge the swarms of irritating monsters called home. Perhaps, if you were lucky, the chilly waters would numb your senses to what was sure to be an unpleasant amount of bites. 

Even if they didn’t heal your ills, there was something captivating about the seemingly endless waters that awaited you. The curved trees that drooped and swayed above and the blooming lilies that cradled the sunset below and all the endless ebbing, flowing waves that crashed against the pebbled shore in a whisper singing sweetly no matter where you rest- Come home to me! I waited for you! Do you recognize me? You’ve grown!

You’re home. 

The realization doesn’t come all at once. No, it’s a slow thing. The waves crash and the mosquitos hum and Helmut rubs his hands, cold with condensation from his glass, down the soft exposed flesh of your arms. Ever so slowly but all at once, the final piece clicks, and you smile. 

Somehow, you know you’re where you’re meant to be. 

The world would turn, that you were sure of. You’d wake in the morning and pack up your bags before running to wherever Helmut saw fit for your next worldly excursion, and that was fine. You couldn’t stay rooted in one place forever. Still, though, at that moment, you were sure you had found the path you were always meant to find. 

With that in your mind and heart, you leaned closer to Helmut and drew him in for one more soft kiss. Neither of you tried to pull away for a good long while. 

You wouldn’t have had it any other way.  

[knaite-solo]

Dangerous - Zuko x Reader

Summary: When you don't leave your tent, Zuko gets worried and decides to do something about it. 

Pairing: Zuko x Waterbender!Reader

Genre: Fluff with some comedy

Warnings: Swearing and period stuff

Word count: 2856

That day, you didn't leave your tent.

Zuko was very attentive, but it didn't take much effort to realize that there was something wrong with you. It was unusual for you to avoid talking with the rest of the group. You always liked to interact with others and help even in the smallest tasks.

So when the hours went by, and you didn't leave, he started to get really concerned. The prince began to walk to your tent until he sensed a hand on his shoulder. When he turned around to see who it was, he found Sokka staring at him very seriously. So serious that it didn't suit his goofy character.

"Don't go in there." He said in a warning tone.

"What? Why?" Zuko asked with a confused expression.

"Just don't." Sokka looked around as if he was seeking for a hidden enemy and then whispered. "It's dangerous. Trust me, man."

Zuko decided not to enter your tent, at least not at that moment. Sokka's warning had left him confused. What could be so dangerous about you? He decided to gather more information. Maybe Toph or Aang could help.

                                          ☆

"So, what do you think?" Zuko asked Toph, who was lying on a stone while playing with her space rock.

"Probably some silly stuff." The earthbender said while changing her rock to numerous shapes.

"But Sokka said it was dangerous. Maybe she is ill or something." The prince tried to think about other possibilities. Toph just looked extremely tired of the conversation.

"Well, I tried to talk to her earlier in the morning..."

"And?"

"She cursed me for opening the tent and let light enter her eyes." Toph blew a few strands of hair in an annoyed attitude. "Sokka usually says dumb things, so I never thought I would agree with him on something. But he's right."

She stopped playing with her space rock and transformed it back in a bracelet, putting it in her arm.

"I don't know what happened, but I don't give a shit anyway."

Zuko just listened to Toph and tried to imagine you cursing her for just trying to talking with you, and he just couldn't. You were such good friends with everybody, especially Toph since she wasn't into girly things, neither were you. Both of you were so close that once he found out you two playing in the mud. Toph throwing mud at you with her earthbending and you with your waterbending. You just were Toph's best friend. Why would you treat her so badly out of nowhere?

"Thanks for the information, I think..." The prince said indecisively. He didn't know what to say since he noticed that Toph was lying about not caring about your mood change.

"It's was a pleasure talking to you, Sparky. Sadly I can't say the same about Y/n."

                                            ☆

"Are you sure she did that?" Aang was brushing Appa's fur while listening to Zuko talk about your weird attitude with Toph.

"Yes. And Toph was really mad. More than usual." The prince couldn't forget the eartbender's expressions as she talked about you. It was a mix of anger and deception.

"Maybe Y/n ate something bad?"

"But Sokka said that it was dangerous to go in her tent. I don't think it's food poisoning." Zuko also couldn't forget Sokka's serious expression. If it were in another context, it would be hilarious.

"Sokka and Katara had a strange fever not long ago." The airbender finally finished brushing Appa. The sky bison looked joyful. "They said strange things and couldn't do anything alone. Maybe it could be it."

"And how the fever stopped?"

"Well..." Aang let out a nervous chuckle. "They had to suck some frozen frogs."

"FROZEN WHAT-'' Zuko's eyes widened.

"MAYBE SHE ISN'T SICK, I DON'T KNOW!"

"HOW THE HELL AM I GOING TO FIND FROZEN FROGS HERE?" Zuko was already thinking about the worst.

"HOLY SHIT! CAN'T YOU ASSHOLES STOP SCREAMING? YOU'RE HURTING MY EARS!" Toph appeared out of nowhere while complaining and covering her ears.

"Why you guys keep using these bad words in front of Appa and Momo?" Aang asked in a withered tone. "They're innocent creatures..."

                                           ☆

Zuko was hopeless. Nobody seemed to be able to explain what was wrong with you and the list of people he could ask was almost over. There was only one person left.

"Katara." He called but she didn't seem to hear.

The waterbender was kneeling on the edger of a river while washing some clothes and sheets. She would submerge the fabrics in the water, rub them, and then dry them with her waterbending. Being a waterbending master had its advantages. She always used her bending in everyday activities, making things a thousand times easier. It was impossible not to look at her and not to be amazed at how easily she connected with the water and managed to manipulate it.

But then Zuko noticed that one of the sheets was different from the others. It had a red stain on it.

"Is this blood?"

Katara almost jumped after hearing that question. Because she was distracted, she hadn't noticed when the prince had approached much less he had called her and now she had been caught with that incriminating sheet in hand. And not any incriminating sheet, it was your incriminating sheet.

"B-Blood? I don't know what you're talking about!" Katara quickly hid the sheet behind her.

Zuko tried not to roll his eyes. He might be trying to become a better person, but that didn't mean he would accept to be made a fool of.

"I can still see the sheet behind you." He just said in a bored tone.

Katara blushed. She hated to lie but she hated to be caught in the lie the most.

"Sorry." She stopped trying to hide the cloth. "I didn't want you to see that."

"Why not?" Zuko looked again at the red stain. Now he was absolutely sure it was blood.

"It's kinda embarrassing to explain..." She returned to clean the sheet, focused on making the red stain disappear.

"I won't judge, I promise." Zuko reassured.

"It's a woman thing. Usually, we don't want people to notice when we are on our period, you know?"

"Oh."

As the stain started to dissolve and vanish in the river's stream, Zuko's mind clicked. Your period. Of course! How could he be so dumb? He felt his face starting to redden.

"So, Y/n is..."

"Yes, that's why I'm washing this." She lifted the sheet that now was wet. "But even if we try to be careful, accidents do happen. "And with a simple movement, she removed the water from the sheet, drying it in the process.

"Accidents, right." Zuko just pretended to agree. He understood generally what being on period meant, but that was all he knew. Part of him was never really interested in knowing more about it, but another part never had access to it, since the subject was considered taboo by most part of women. "I suppose it's impossible to be careful enough."

Katara immediately noticed how he didn't seem to know much of what they were talking about and a playful smile quickly appeared on her lips.

"You know you're not fooling anyone, are you?"

"What do you-"

"Zuko, it's okay to not know about things." The waterbender assured him. Her smile wasn't playful anymore. It switched to a tender one.

"I-I-" The prince started to blush again. He really wanted to understand more about theses "girly things" and how he could make you feel better but it was just so difficult to ask. "I don't-"

"Don't worry. I won't tease you." Katara started to get up with the basket of clean clothes in hand.

Zuko looked away, focusing on the camp before answering. The prince imagined you trapped in that tent, acting in that moody way for a reason you couldn't control. He really wanted to help you, and if that meant he had to go over all his shame and male pride, he would.

"Fine. " He answered while pinching the bridge of his nose. "But don't tell Sokka."

"Why would I-"

"Don't tell Toph either."

"But why-"

"Actually, don't tell anyone."

                                          ☆

Today your period was getting the best of you. Your mood was shit. You had been turning over all night because of hellish cramps so it was expected that you wanted to sleep until later. But then when Toph, who was unaware of your situation, tried to talk to you, you were extremely rude to her. Actually, even if you tried to tell Toph that you were on your period, she wouldn't understand since she hadn't had her first yet, but you still had no right to curse her just for saying hi.

As if it were a punishment from the universe, you realized that you had stained one of the sheets that you had used that night. Furthermore, your horrible cramps had returned. Thankfully Katara came to your rescue, helping you a little with the pain and offering to wash the tragic sheet.

Now, after all the events, you didn't quite know what you wanted to do. Sure, you wanted to apologize to Toph, but you were afraid of what to do if your mood changed again.  Your body was limp, your breasts were swollen and your back hurt a lot. Everything told you not to get up. So, that's what you did.

You were almost asleep again when you felt someone entering the tent. Thinking it was Toph, you automatically sat down and started to apologize.

"I know that nothing I say will change what I did, but I really-" You stopped talking when you noticed it wasn't your best friend that was in front of you, it was the guy that you liked. "Zuko?"

"Sorry for entering without asking." He said with an apologetic look. "Can I stay here?"

"I would love you to stay but... " You really wanted his presence there, but you were afraid to be rude to him too. And he was the last person you wanted to make a bad impression on. " I'm not very well today."

"I know."

"You... know?" You asked in a slightly nervous way, but you tried to disguise it.

"Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking as nervous as you were. "But I don't mind."

You seemed to be even more nervous than before. Being alone with him always made you unquiet, but imagining that he might know about your period made you want to bury your face in the ground and disappear. You knew it was normal to menstruate and it was stupid to perpetuate the idea that guys shouldn't know when you were or weren't on your period, but the thought of talking about it with him scared you.

You tried to say a few things, but the words died in your throat. The fear that the guy you liked so much thought you were disgusting made you so apprehensive that you didn't even know what to say.

He noticed your apprehension almost immediately.

"I-I bought you something!" Zuko started looking for something inside a small bag he had with him and it was the first time that you had noticed its existence.

When the prince finally found what you were looking for, you realized it was a very poorly wrapped up packet.

"You didn't need to-"

"It's chocolate. Katara said it could help." He handed the packet to you without looking you in the eye.

As you started to open it, you saw different bars of chocolate. One of white chocolate, one of dark chocolate, one with chestnuts and one with an extremely reddish color. Some of them were a little broken and melted, but most of them were fine.

"I didn't know which flavor you like the most, so I bought one of each." You felt your ears burn just by imagining him buying all that for you.

"Where did you-"

"I borrowed Appa to go to the nearest market." He answered. "But they ended up getting kind of..." You tried not to laugh at his frustrated face.

Your shame was gradually going away. He didn't think you were disgusting because you were on your period. In fact, he was worried to the point of taking a mini trip and buying sweets for you. And he even tried to wrap them up, though he clearly failed. Imagining him doing all that for you made your heart warmer to the point of making you cry. Your mood change was taking the best out of you again.

Zuko's eyes widened as soon as he noticed your tears.

"I-I'm sorry! I-" He started to get up. "I'll leave you alone!''

You quickly held him by the wrist while letting out a laugh. Your tears salted your mouth as you giggled, but you didn't care. Meanwhile, Zuko was staring at you with an extremely confused expression.

"I'm happy, you dork."

"But why are you crying?" He looked so worried that you almost felt guilty for laughing at him.

"Period things. I'm fine, really." You said while whipping your tears away. "Now sit here with me. I'm curious about this red one."

Zuko sighed with relief and sat next to you with his legs crossed. You stopped holding his wrist, being surprised at how brave you were to do something like this. You were the kind of person who got embarrassed just by touching him in the shoulder. Even when training with him, you would get disconcerted by the smallest things.

"It's a Fire Nation traditional chocolate." He broke a piece of the chocolate and offered it to you. "I thought you might want to try it."

You took the bizarrely red piece from his hand and tried not to sweat.

"I hope this isn't too spicy." But when you ate the piece, your fear came true. "ZUKO!"

"WHAT!" He practically jumped.

"WATER!" You screamed as you felt your tongue burning.

The prince started turning over all the sheets until he finally found a canteen lost in a corner of the tent. You didn't even wait for him to deliver it to you. You took the canteen from his hands and drank the water until you felt the burning sensation cease.

When you finally managed to stabilize your breathing after drinking so much water, you faced him. Zuko was sweating bullets.

"Are you feeling better?" He asked worriedly.

"It was an outstanding experience." You replied with a grin. "But I prefer not to try it again."

"Yeah, I won't buy this one for you the next time."

"Next time?" You couldn't ignore his statement. What did he mean by next time?

"Ah..."

Zuko started to blush again. Every time he started talking about things he had done for you or how he wanted to be with you, his face turned red, almost like a tomato. However, you couldn't hear his answer since your cramps have returned, making you lean forward and hold your belly.

"Hey, are you-"

"Cramps. Awful ones." You replied, still holding your belly. Your cramps were rougher than usual, so you laid down. "Sorry for ruining the mood."

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault. "

You were unable to agree or disagree with him. Your pain was so intense that you couldn't focus on anything. The guy of your dreams was on your side and you couldn't even look at him.

Suddenly, you felt something hot thing land on your belly. It was hot, but not enough to hurt you. It was cozy and made your pain lower little by little. You only came to understand what it was when the heat moved and you recognized the shape of a hand, a male hand.

"Katara said that heat can help with the pain." Zuko said as he slid his hand over your belly. "Do you feel better?"

"Yes." A pleased expression appeared in your face. "It feels nice."

"Good. I've never done this before." He stated.

"What about Mai?" You asked curiously, trying to not sound jealous. He was being so supportive that you couldn't help but imagine him trying to please his ex-girlfriend in every single way.

"Mai hardly commented on how she felt. Even when she was more... Er... Sensitive- "Zuko cleared his throat. "She was no different. It's not like I never wanted to help, but she never allowed me to be close enough.

"I see." You imagined him trying to get closer and Mai pushing him away. You felt sad for him. "Well, I feel happy for being the first one." Shyly, you put your hand over his. "I'll give you a lot of work to make up for it."

A smile lit up his face. His smile was the most beautiful thing in the world, and it was becoming more common as he spent more time with you and the rest of the Gaang.

"Am I supposed to be afraid?" He replied provocatively.

"Women in their period can be the most dangerous thing, you know."

"Yeah, Sokka said so."

"Sokka what?"

Taglist: @bucky-blogs @dekahg @eridanuswave @the-firebender-girl

People who were interested but I don’t if I could tag them: @unfortunateshelby @little-wankenobi @theblueslytherin @creepytoes88​ @http-peter-parker​

I don’t think this was my best work since I don’t feel really secure with portraying Zuko as a boyfriend yet. I’m not really sure about how he expresses love since he had so many problematic relationships and I don’t think he would be the perfect guy who would know everything about dating and stuff. I also don’t think he would say his feelings out loud. He looks more practical to me but not too practical. To me, he’s probably shy with this stuff. 

Please, give me feedback if I portraited him well as a boyfriend even if he wasn’t your boyfriend in this imagine.

English isn’t my native language so it might have mistakes.

I needed to write this since my period is still killing me.

[thecrenellations]

Queen’s Thief Appreciation, Day 11: Favorite Outfit* - A study of Helen

Please come along with me and @storieswelove on a chronological journey through six of Helen’s outfits as they evolve ... from the sheepskin coat she wears as a nine-year-old (the first character we meet in the timeline of the series!) to clothes chosen by others with various motivations and clothes she chooses herself.

I drew the Helens, and Margaux came up with this concept, wrote the accompanying gems of missing scenes, and (along with Maggie) has infused my mind with fashion references over the past few months, in the best way, while encouraging my art always.

crossposted here on AO3

*ok, we did pick more than one outfit

“Eddis” Hunting Jacket

“High up in the mountains there was still quite a bit of snow, and she shivered even in her sheepskin jacket.” - “Eddis” (reference)

“There you are, my dear,” Xanthe said as she buttoned Helen’s new coat. The little girl had grown since the fall, when the weather was last warm enough for a coat that only came to her knees. “Look how nice you look.” 

Helen stuck out her arms and looked at the coat. It was all right, she thought. The blue and white trim was pretty, but that just meant her mother or her aunts or Xanthe would chastise her when she inevitably got it dirty. She almost sighed. If they would just let her wear plain clothes maybe they wouldn’t fuss so much when they got dirty. But Xanthe was smiling at her expectantly, so Helen smiled back and, fibbing, said, “It’s a lovely coat.” 

If she didn’t care for the coat, she would be happy to have its warm mass when she snuck off with Nestor to go explore the temple soon. She had been planning all winter, and she was nearly ready to go…

Miserable Dress

“In her five-year reign she’d won the loyalty and love of her subjects. They thought she was beautiful, I told her, and they would be just as happy to see her in a a sack as in the elaborate costumes her dressers liked to bully her into.” - The Thief (reference, a beautiful dress but very not Helen)

Gen laughed in her face. “Why are you wearing that?”

"What a lovely way to speak to your queen,” she said, wrinkling her nose at him. 

Gen pulled a face of mock solemnity, unable to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching. “My queen,” he said gravely, “why are you wearing that?” 

Rolling her eyes, she walked past him, doing her best to push down her discomfort. She hated this dress. 

As she walked away, her Thief called after her. “No one cares what you wear!”

War Trousers

“Eugenides wondered when she’d started wearing trousers again. Thinking about it, he couldn’t recall seeing her in a dress except at the formal dinners.” - The Queen of Attolia

Helen stood, ready to be dressed by her attendants as they fluttered around her. She would be in meetings from the moment she left her rooms until evening. As she thought of the day ahead of her, hearing reports from her officers and making decision after decision that could alter the lives of her people, Helen began to wonder how much more she could take. She eyed the orange dress with ruffled sleeves that Selene had just brought out from her closet, and Helen realized she had found her limit. 

Holding up a hand to her attendant, she said wearily, “Trousers today. I need a break.”

Engagement Dress

“Her dress was of linen as fine as [Sounis’s] own. It had an overdress decorated in knotted cord and a waist of satin covered in tiny beads in the same pattern as the knots.” - A Conspiracy of Kings (reference)

“Are you ready?” Gen said, legs swinging from atop her dresser as Eddis’s attendants twisted the last of the pins into her short hair and wordlessly drifted back to the antechamber, leaving the cousins alone. 

Helen smiled tightly. “I hope so.” 

“Helen,” Gen said softly, “he is going to understand.” 

Helen changed the subject. “Thank you for the dress,” she said. It was worlds better than anything her attendants would have chosen, and Helen always made sure to thank Gen for his gifts of clothes. She knew it mattered to him. 

“It’s an important day. You deserved to be free of their fussing.” 

Helen snorted. Her attendants had fussed anyway, of course. “I could have done without the gold in my hair though,” she said, idly fingering her curls and looking at the gold dust on her hand. 

Gen grinned and jumped down from the dresser, coming over to kiss her forehead before he left. “It’s for luck.” 

“I’ll show you luck,” Helen said, and wiped the gold powder onto his sleeve as he hissed.

Wedding Costume

“I had been sent to the palace in time to be an eyesore at the wedding of Sounis and Eddis. Instead I had been ill and slept through it.” - Return of the Thief (reference) (another reference)

“Gods, I cannot wait to change,” Helen murmured so only Irene could hear. The sovereigns and their retinues were tucked away in an antechamber off of the dining hall, resting briefly between the temple ceremony and the feast. In the next room, heaping platters of fish and lamb, sugared almonds and honey cakes awaited them. 

“Your dress looks more comfortable than what I wore for my wedding,” Irene observed, turning in her chair to face her cousin beside her. 

Helen smiled. “There’s that, at least.” The day was hot, but not nearly as hot as it had been when Gen and Irene had married the summer before. Irene’s dress, all red and gold, had been made from layers of heavy fabrics. It must have been miserable. “It’s not the dress I mind,” Helen said. All things considered, the dress wasn’t bad. It was more ornate than most of her dresses, but that was to be expected for her wedding. It was a nod to traditional Eddisian wedding outfits but cut more to her liking, carefully chosen both for her personal comfort and to reinforce that she was still Eddis. And, neither her attendants nor her aunt had been involved in its selection. That had been the real blessing. “It’s these damned laurels,” she said, barely touching one of the delicate leaves jutting out from the floral wedding crown. “They itch, and if I scratch them I ruin my hair and my attendants will be after my head.” 

“Here,” Irene said, and leaned over to delicately adjust the worst offending leaves and flower stems to keep them from poking Helen’s head. Two attendants moved hurriedly over to help, but Attolia waved them off. “I know how to adjust a crown,” she mumbled to herself. Helen laughed.

Eddisian Uniform

“She was dressed in trousers and low boots, her over-tunic identical to her officers’ but embroidered in gold.” - The Queen of Attolia (with reference to Emily B. Martin’s official art and frogged tunics!)

She watched as Sophos blushed. She grinned. She knew that look. “Surely you have seen me in uniform before?” 

He shook his head. “I have not,” he said, stepping toward her and fingering the ornate gold closures of her military tunic. He smiled slyly. “How easy are these frogs to undo?”

---

Thank you for reading! You can read it again here on AO3

[passable-talent]

| part 1 | part 2 |

this storyline might end up being long 👀 so in order for me to get to other requests I’m gonna not continue it until someone requests an extension again. thanks y’all 💕💕

edit: EIGHT MILLION PEOPLE HAVE ASKED FOR THIS TO BE CONTINUED IT WILL BE U ITS OKAY

edit: | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 |

Rice seemed to be the morning meal. There was an abundance of it, and it was filling, and you wouldn’t complain, as you had food at all. What was weird, though, was standing beside Zuko as you waited for Katara to scoop you your serving.

As soon as you got your portion you left his side, making a beeline to Toph, sitting down beside her on the edge of the fountain.

“I’ve been practicing my seismics,” you told her, and she didn’t much acknowledge you other than a quick nod. You weren’t wearing shoes, as you tended not to in the morning, and you pressed the flat of your foot into the floor.

“Watch this,” you said, and you closed your eyes as you put a scoop of rice to your mouth. At the same time, you dug your toe into the ground, sending a small stone up under Sokka.

He shot up from the floor and rubbed his behind, scowling. Toph, on the other hand, burst out laughing.

“Toph!” Sokka shouted, a slight waiver in his voice with the cracking of his throat.

“It wasn’t me!” She said back, still laughing. Sokka turned his gaze to you, almost glaring, and you gave him back a charming, innocent smile.

Despite yourself, your eyes flicked for a moment to Zuko, and you found him with a smile on his face.

You had missed that smile, and you hadn’t known it until now.

Aang and Zuko disappeared for a while to rediscover Zuko’s firebending, which you thought was hilarious. Of course he loses his firebending, right when you need him to be a firebender. You spend the few days they were gone practicing your earthbending and wrestling with your emotions, but you got no further than you’d gotten the night he came and talked to you.

You still cared for him. And that made you angry sometimes.

When he returned with Aang, once again capable of firebending, you were glad that Aang once again had his teacher. But you were also glad that Zuko was back. You, just like Katara, were slowly learning to laugh at him, or with him, depending on the day. You were letting your guard down, bit by bit, and allowing yourself to look at him more and more.

There was this... tension whenever the two of you were in the same room. It was like neither of you were quite willing to speak first, out of pride or awkwardness or something of the like. You couldn’t tell what he was feeling, but to you it felt like there was something just out of reach, blocking you from taking a step closer to forgiving him. It frustrated you, because you did miss the friendship you once had with him.

One night, while the rest of the group were sitting around a fire, you decided to take your anger out on some rocks. So you travelled up the cliff side, to where you could pitch stones around without worrying about destroying the temple. You began by practicing your forms, the strong stances that earthbending martial arts were known for, but with the adrenaline and anger you felt you soon moved to different techniques. Earthbending’s kicks were very contact based- as though you would hit the body and stop. But your lean stature made it easier for you to practice other types of kicks, those that spun or involved jumps. It made the rocks move differently, but you knew that if you could master the style of earthbending that fit your frame, you’d be more unpredictable in battle.

That was the logic. Sometimes, you just needed to spin and jump and land with an impact. Sometimes you just needed to stomp and pretend it was the fire lord’s face underneath your foot, or Azula you launched that boulder into instead of a tree. You tried to picture one of your boulders knocking Zuko down a few pegs, but you couldn’t. He was being so kind- he made tea for the group and tried to make you all laugh. He helped Aang learn firebending, and offered to light a fire in your bedroom to keep you warm on a particularly cold day.

You couldn’t hold a grudge against him. Your grip on your anger was wearing away, and leaving behind what you realized was the root of it all, leaving behind that wall that had blocked you from stepping closer to him.

Fear.

You were afraid of how close you had once been to him. You were afraid that it would be all too easy to fall into old habits, and you’d be left betrayed once again. You were afraid of how much he meant to you, all this time.

And fear made you lash out.

You spun and dug your knuckles into the ground to launch a few stones into the air, the thit as they impacted with a tree satisfying to your ears. The rumbling of the earth as you pulled it’s rock from the ground made you feel better, and the slight stinging pain in your joints reminded you of your power, because even if you couldn’t control Zuko and your emotions, you could control the earth.

“Y/N?” Zuko’s voice startled you so deeply that a hunk of rock was punched in his direction before you even registered it was him, at which point you pulled your fist back and threw it to the ground, reversing the stone headed right for Zuko and burying it back in the dirt.

“Sorry,” you said, breathing hard with eyes wide. You’d almost smacked him. With a boulder. That would’ve been bad. “You scared me.” He laughed worriedly, reaching up to scratch the back of his head.

“Well you got me back,” he said, looking for a moment at the stone you’d put back into the ground after almost flattening him with it. He turned his gaze back to you. “Can I tell you something that you can’t tell anyone else?” You furrowed your eyebrows, but nodded.

“I have a feeling Sokka is going to do something very stupid tonight, and I’m not going to let him go alone. So I don’t know how long we’ll be gone, and I didn’t want to go without saying goodbye.” All sorts of emotions came rushing up your throat, and you frowned.

“What’s he trying to do that you don’t know how long it’s going to be?” You asked, before you could stop yourself. Knowing that he may not answer that question, you followed it up with a few more. “Is it dangerous? Do you think you’ll be gone more than a day?”

“There’s no way to know,” he said, and looked to the side. “It might be a few days.” You swallowed hard, one hand coming up to squeeze your other bicep. There was silence, for a moment, other than the croaking of the badger frogs in the forest.

“I, uh,” you let slip out, and you swallowed hard. “Just stay safe and come back, okay?” Your eyes caught his, and you found vulnerability swimming in them. You knew he must’ve seen the same.

“Yeah,” he said, and turned to renter the temple. You watched him walk away for a moment, overwhelming worry and dread overtaking you and keeping you rooted to your spot.

“Zuko?” You finally forced out, and he turned back to you. You broke from your stance and ran forward, wrapping his torso in a hug before you thought enough to stop yourself. You closed your eyes tightly, as though if you didn’t see him, you wouldn’t know how he reacted.

His arms came around your shoulders and he held you tightly, resting his nose down and onto your shoulder.

“Thanks for telling me,” you said, and he nodded. You pulled away and let him go, your hand pressed to the dirt to sense him as he travelled back down to the temple.

He was gone the next morning, along with Sokka. You kept your mouth shut, knowing that it wasn’t a fishing trip at all, and waited, simmering with the knowledge he’d given you. Your curse was the worst of all, as you knew that they were doing something dangerous, but you didn’t know what. You could only hope that they’d come back. And when they did, they brought with them Hakoda and Suki. It was a great surprise, and you hugged him when he returned.

You were relieved to see him alive.

He hugged you back, tightly, as though he was struggling with something, and you watched him when he pulled away.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, not meeting your eyes.

“Okay, why?”

“I ran into Mai.”

-🦌 Roe

[cricketnationrise]

so formal!

full fic on AO3 here

for @zimbitsweddingofficial

day 1: pre-wedding

_X_  _   _X_

Bitty’s in MooMaw’s kitchen, helping her with the last batch of pies for the Fourth of July. Jack is helping his parents set up outside, putting his height and muscles to good use. Deep breaths, you can do this. Right as he gets ready to ask, MooMaw breaks the silence.

“Now, Dicky, why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you. You’ve been tenser than a mouse in a cat parade this afternoon.”

“Sorry, MooMaw, I didn’t mean to be. It’s just, uh – I was wondering, um,” he exhales sharply before just blurting out, “Iwaswonderin’ifIcouldhavePopPaw’sringtoproposetoJack.”

“One more time love, these ol’ ears didn’t quite catch that.”

“I was wonderin’, well, hoping, I could maybe – if you don’t mind – and if you do that’s totally fine I won’t be mad or anything – if I could have PopPaw’s wedding ring.”

“PopPaw’s wedding ring?”

“Uh-huh. To propose to Jack.”

“Now Dicky, I know I’m a little out of the loop, but I could have sworn I got a very excited phone call from your mother the day you graduated sayin’ you were engaged to the tall glass of water out there.”

 “MooMaw.”

“What? It’s not like I’m dead! He’s a very attractive fellow,” she says, a wicked grin lighting her features. “But aren’t I right, y’all are engaged aren’t ya?”

“Yes MooMaw, he proposed to me and I said yes,” he says, kneading the pie crust dough a touch too hard. “I just – I wanted to propose to him as well.” He looks up from the dough to look her dead in the eyes.

“I want him to feel as amazing and wanted and loved as I did when he proposed. It was one of the best days of my life, MooMaw, and I love him. Why wouldn’t I want him to get to have that feeling too?”

“Oh, Dicky,” she cries, throwing her floury arms around him, “you’ve grown into such a wonderful man. I know PopPaw would have been proud to see who you’ve become.” She pulls back to wipe her eyes.

“Of course you can have the ring. It’s mean to be worn, after all, does no good to anyone just sittin’ in my jewelry box.”

“Thank you, MooMaw.” Bitty’s not crying. He’s not. Oh who is he kidding, he’s totally crying.

“I just – I thought it might be a sort of good luck charm. Y’all were married so long and you loved each other so much I just thought – “

“I already said yes, Dicky, there’s no need to make me sob young man,” she says thickly, “you stop being so emotional right now, we have pies to make.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, kissing her on the cheek before turning back to the dough.

Step one: complete.

_X_  _  _X_

“BITTY!!!!!”

“YOU’RE HERE!”

Bitty can’t help but beam as he walks up the sidewalk toward the front door of Haus 2.0.

“Hi you two, I—” He’s cut off with a noise that doesn’t sound human as he’s scooped up by Ransom and thrown into Holster’s arms. These boys.

They’re all laughing by the time Bitty’s feet are on the ground again.

“It’s a good thing I’m not making a pie 'till later, I wouldn’t want to try and hold onto one while flying through the air.”

“Bro, we would never endanger a pie!” Bitty’s never seen the two of them look so offended.

“Glad you’re here, Bitty. It hasn’t been just us since we lived in the Haus!” Holster says.

They get inside and start on a six pack and get down to business.

“Alright so – it came? And neither Shitty or Lardo saw it?” Bitty asks.

“Got it right here, bro.” Holster hands him a small box pulled from the highest cabinet behind a collection of ugly vases.

“Do we get to know what this secret package is?” says Ransom.

“Yeah, plus I need your help with the second part,” Bitty says as he carefully opens the box. He gasps. Thank god for Etsy, it looks perfect. They even managed to get his cowlick to stand up.

“Uhhh, Bitty?”

“Hmmm?”

“Not that it isn’t stupidly adorable – look at the little C on your jersey – but why do you have a Lego version of yourself? No, better question, why was it secret?”

“Both excellent points, Holtzy.”

“This is how I’m going to counter propose to Jack.”

There’s a beat of absolute silence and then—

“HOLY SHIT BITTY!”

“That’s GENIUS, bro!”

The congratulatory screaming only dies down when they hear a door slam down the hall. Oops I guess we were being a tad loud for the other roommate.

“You said you needed our help for the second part?” asks Holster.

“Yeah, I want to make a Lego-sized version of the “yo marry me” sign but I couldn’t remember the colors or layout well enough and I know Shitty has it in his closet.”

“Bitty, bro, your brain is so big. Our little frog, all grown up—”

“—And savin’ China!” Ransom finishes, giggling.

“Oh hush you two,” he says, swatting them playfully, “Now then. I don’t think it has to be Lego-sized because Jack will never be able to read it, but I think if we scale it down to about postcard size that’ll work as a nice backdrop.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

It’s a nice afternoon, and it’s hilarious watching two huge and broad-shouldered men hunch over a tiny piece of cardboard, arguing about font size while he makes a pie.

Well two pies. But one is mini pie as an apology to the random roommate. They may not be “down to motherfucking clown” but Bitty knows his friends (and himself) can be a lot to deal with.

Bitty’s just put the full size one in the oven when Ransom and Holster finish.

“Y’all… It looks great. Thank you so much.” Bitty didn’t think a sign that ridiculous would make him cry but there’s definitely some tears.

“Got your back, Bitty,” Ransom says.

“Mama Mia while we wait for the pie?” He laughs a little as Holster pumps his fist in triumph, “I’ll just nip this stuff out to the car for safekeeping while y’all set it up.”

Step two: complete.

_X_  _  _X_

Everything’s finally ready.

He’s got the Lego-Bitty, with Ransom and Holster's sign as the backdrop. He made a pie for later (and about three kinds of cookies - so sue him he was nervous). Señor Bun is probably tired of having to listen to Bitty rehearse his speech by now. PopPaw's ring is nestled oh-so-carefully in Lego-Bitty's hands. Now he just needs Jack to get back from practice.

He hears the key turn in the door.

[aph-honk-kong]

Sylfiden - Akt I

Alastair should be grateful that his future is secure - he has a large house, bountiful crops and will soon be married to the prettiest girl in the village. But on the morning of his wedding day, a sylph appears in his living room and dismantles every aspect of his perfectly-planned life.

[Written for day three of @aphrarepairweek2021​ with the prompt “culture” - granted, this is kind of inaccurate since the source this was based on was produced by a Dane in 1836, but I guess it still kind of shows Scottish culture]

This fic was based on the Romantic ballet Sylfiden, choreographed by August Bournonville of the Royal Danish Ballet. 

Here’s what Alastair should look like:

(This is Jon Axel Fransson, photographed by Per Morten Abrahamsen)

And here is the sylph, though you can always imagine them wearing something else:

(This is Ida Praetorius, also photographed by Per Morten Abrahamsen)

...

  Alastair awoke to whiteness.

  At first he thought it was another of Dillon’s pranks, and there was cotton over his face again, but he looked longer and found the tint before his eyes resembling fabric a little more. Had he somehow fallen asleep over Marianne’s wedding dress? No, that couldn’t be, for was it not bad luck to see the bride’s gown before the ceremony? Then Alastair looked up and saw a face.

  He was as regal as he was pale, snowy cheeks dusted with the faintest pink that mirrored the shade of his lips. He was not smiling, at least not with his mouth, but his eyes — blue eyes, Alastair noticed — held laughter. And he was so close that his white-gold hair was tickling his cheek.

  He jolted to his feet. The man moved backwards, too, and stopped by the living room window with his arms poised delicately. “Good morning.”

  “I — ” Alastair looked him up and down again. The white he saw turned out to not be from a gown, but a thin white blouse that floated whenever he moved. “What are you doing here?”

  “To visit you,” he replied. Then he turned around, and he saw on his back a pair of small, translucent wings. A sylph, he realised. A wind spirit was in his house. “I hear you are getting married today, and I wanted to wish you luck.” 

  “Oh.” The sylph moved away when he tried to get close; well, “moved” was hardly the right word for it. He glided across the floor, it seemed, wings fluttering softly each time he evaded Alastair’s grasp. “Thank you, er…?”

  “Stellan.” The sylph leapt away once more. “That is my name.”

  And a peculiar one too, Alastair was tempted to say. But he kept his mouth shut and merely watched, entranced, as Stellan drifted past the chair he had fallen asleep on. He did not seem entirely real. 

  “I wanted to look at you, I suppose,” he sing-songed, “before you got married. Some say that the hours before a wedding are a man’s last moments of freedom. Do you agree?”

  For some reason, the question made his ears prickle with heat. Was he implying that he did not want to get married? Indignantly, Alastair opened his mouth to reply when Stellan elegantly hopped away from the chair. “I must go now. I will see you again soon.”

  He stepped backwards into the fireplace, and the flames rose higher. When they faded, Stellan was gone.

  Not a minute after Stellan disappeared, Dillon stamped into the room with a grin. “My, you’re already awake!” He exclaimed. “After all the planning last night I expected you to be out ‘til noon.” He lowered his voice. “Best look presentable, now. Marianne will be here to get ready soon.”

  “Wait, really?” His hands flew to his head and began trying to flatten his hair, which was probably a rat’s nest after just waking up. “Goodness, I’m still in my clothes from yesterday.” Something white flashed in his vision, and he started. Had Stellan returned?

  “You alright there?”

  “Just thought I saw something,” Alastair said tiredly. “Did you see a sylph last night? I swore one came to visit me when I first awoke.”

  Dillon stared at him as though he had grown another head. “Have you been drinking already?”

  “No?”

  “Of course I haven’t seen a sylph!” With a bark of laughter, he clapped Alastair on the back. “And neither should you. It’s probably just cold feet. Have some breakfast and warm yourself up, and you ought to be alright.”

  He glanced at the window once more. Nothing. “Yes,” he settled, “I was probably just a bit delirious.”

  His cottage door opened again and in flowed distant giggles. Breaking away from her mother, Marianne swept into the living room and into his arms. “Good morning, dear.”

  “Good morning.” Alastair kissed her forehead. She smelled like heather. “How did you sleep?”

  “Very well.” Marianne rested her head against his chest, smiling contentedly. “Dreamt of you all night long.”

  He leant down, ready to kiss her, when a shadow moved near the fireplace. He broke away and ran towards it, ignoring his bride-to-be’s indignant huff, and bent down. Had Stellan returned to offer more blessings? Would he wish him luck again with his soft, sweet voice? Alastair searched the figure, ready to look into blue eyes —

  They were green.

  “What the Hell are you doing here?”

  Dressed slightly less odiously, scowling as usual, Arthur glared back at him. “Ah, it’s the inattentive groom. Are you leaving lovely Marianne for me?”

  Dillon snorted behind him.

  “I am not, and I find it insulting that you would even think I would,” he replied furiously. “And you are not attending my wedding. I don’t need somebody to perform magic tricks.”

  Arthur scowled even deeper in response. He was constantly trying to convince the village that he was, in fact, a witch with the ability to do magic, but everyone had come to the conclusion that he was probably a raving fool who had been exiled from England for some reason, hence his name. “I wouldn’t disrespect my craft, if I were you.”

  “It isn’t disrespectful if it’s true.” Alastair rolled his eyes. “As if you can really cast spells. Will you leave, please?”

  Now he looked positively murderous. “Don’t you dare talk to — ”

  Marianne reached the fireplace before Arthur could finish his sentence. “Why don’t you predict our fortunes?” She asked with a pacifying smile. “If your predictions are good enough, we’ll let you stay.“

  Arthur stared at her for a moment, then rolled his eyes. “All right. Gather your ladies.”

  The first of Marianne’s friends came forward, and the witch took her hand roughly. After peering at her palm for a moment, he proclaimed, “you will find love soon.”

  “You will lose something dear to you,” he informed another. 

  The third fortune he whispered in the girl’s ear, and when she turned away she had tears in her eyes. Arthur watched her leave with a smug smile forming.

  “Hey!” A little boy Alastair recognised as Dillon’s nephew ran forward. “Look at mine next!”

  He had barely touched the boy’s hand when Dillon reached them, scooping him cleanly off his feet and carrying him away. “Don’t you talk to him, Peter! You will take part in none of this nonsense!”

  Marianne went to Arthur next. He took one look at her palm, and his smile grew. “There is love in your future.”

  She stretched her other hand to hold Alastair’s, and he leant down to kiss her once more. “I already know that.”

  “But!” And now he looked positively gleeful. “That love will have nought to do with your dear fiancé. He will leave you for someone else!”

  He frowned. “That isn’t true, and you know it.”

  “Say, look at my palm.” Dillon strode forward, having deposited Peter as far away from Arthur as possible. He winked at Alastair. “Maybe I’ll turn into a frog tomorrow.”

  Arthur took one look at his hand and gave a short laugh. “You will find love very soon, too,” he cackled. “In fact, you will marry lovely Marianne!”

  Irritation flickered deep within him, only growing as Dillon stared at Marianne in shock, pink creeping across his cheeks. “I will what?”

  “You will not fall for Marianne, that’s what you’ll do.” Alastair pulled her into his arms, glowering first at Arthur then at Dillon. “I’m the one getting married to her.”

  “Or so it is now,” Arthur mused. “Who knows what will happen at the end of today?”

  The tiny sparks of annoyance turned into mild anger and he left Marianne’s side, leaning down to grab Arthur by the arm. “You are going to get out,” he retorted, voice growing in volume, “and you are going to stay out. First for slandering me by implying that I am — that I am attracted to men, and more so for accusing my best friend of stealing my bride!” He ignored his yelp of pain, dragged him out of the living room, opened the door and quite literally threw him out of the house. 

  He slammed the door before he could get back in, and stamped back into the living room. “Well then.” He announced, trying to sound cheerful, “shall we continue preparing?”

…

  Once Marianne had left to get dressed and her bridesmaids had finished preparing, Alastair was once again left alone. He stared at his wedding suit, which he had yet to change into, and sighed. Today was supposed to be the happiest day of his life, the day he had been poised for since childhood, and that wretched witch had to try and ruin it.

  The whole village had known that he and Marianne would be wed for practically a decade. She was one of his closest, dearest friends, and he couldn’t imagine himself getting married to anyone else. Alastair ran his thumb over his engagement ring. This was his duty, and he would stick to it, no matter what Arthur’s idiotic palm-reading had predicted.

  The window creaked open.

  Feather-light, Stellan hopped from his perch on the windowsill onto the floor. He was smiling now, if one could call that tiny curve of his lips a smile. “Nervous?”

  “A little bit.”

  “I hope you considered my question.”

  He sighed; why were these strange magical fellows so determined to aggravate him on his wedding day? “I find it rather insulting that you think I’m being forcibly chained to Marianne.”

  Soft eyelashes fluttered. Stellan leapt again; he seemed incapable of staying in one place for long. “That was not what I meant. I simply want you to consider this question: are you getting married because you truly love the lady, or because you feel obligated to?”

  “Are you accusing me of not loving her?”

  His eyes flashed; his wings fluttered. Something about him, ethereal and soft, made Alastair feel warm. “No, not at all. I can see that Marianne is very dear to you, as a friend. But is she really somebody you wish to be wed to?”

  “Y-Yes,” he said instinctively.

  Stellan raised an eyebrow. “Can you imagine yourself kissing her in the years to come? Waking up every morning next to her? Raising children with her? With her?”

  With her?

  And suddenly Alastair was six years old again, playing family with Dillon. “I’m going to marry you when we grow up,” he’d declared. “I’ll put a ring on your finger and we’ll have lots of children!”

  He had not understood why his mother had run to shush him, informing him with a tight smile that he ought to marry a lady instead.

  Then he was fourteen, learning to dance for a festival. His friend had laughed, watching him blunder, and grabbed his hands to place them in the right positions. His skin had tingled, and his heart raced in a way that had nothing to do with his performance.

  And then he was nineteen, running to the market to sell the week’s produce when he bowled into somebody — a newcomer to the village, supposedly an Englishman. He’d looked into grass-green eyes and pouting lips and pushed him away with a shout, but his gaze burned into him forevermore.

  “No!” Alastair said aloud, a strange heat pricking at his eyes. “That is not the man I am anymore. This marriage is proof of that.”

  Stellan was quiet for a while, and he saw a tear roll down his cheek.

  His heart sank. “Why are you crying?”

  He breathed out shakily; a delicate white hand moved to wipe the tear away. “I am reminded, once again, how little freedom humans have,” he whispered. “How can you live knowing that you cannot truly be yourself?”

  “I am myself,” Alastair insisted. “I know who I want to be, and it is not —” He could not even say that word — “Not whatever you think I am.”

  Those lovely blue eyes glimmered, as though there were more tears to shed. Stellan blinked hard, approaching a chair and scooping up a scarf that was resting upon it. “Will you be truly happy hiding who you are for the rest of your life?” He unfolded the scarf and draped it over himself, blue tartan over ghostly pale tulle. Alastair realised that it was Marianne’s scarf, which made it a strange sight indeed — here was a beautiful, knowing man who had fluttered his way into his life just this morning dressed in his betrothed’s clothing.

  “Today’s marriage is my duty.” He could not tear his eyes away from Stellan, who was pacing around the room, snuggling into the scarf. “I have known this would happen for many years now.”

  Those beguiling eyes caught him then; triumph shimmered in them. “So it is something you must do, but not something you want to do.”

  “Why do you care?” Alastair questioned brusquely. “It is not as though you are jealous of Marianne, and would marry her instead.”

  Stellan glided towards him once more. His cheeks were slightly more flushed now, making him look more like an actual human being rather than a fleeting spirit. “Because, as the winds blow past the fields you work in, I have watched you. Day in, day out, you live as dictated.” Stellan’s blush deepened more so, and he pursed his lips. “And I came to grow fond of you.” He gently twisted the scarf. “Very fond.

  “How could I bear to see somebody I am fond of so caged in?”

  Suddenly, Alastair’s ears felt rather warm. So that was why Stellan was so against all of this. “So you have that sort of feeling for me. What makes you so sure that I am like you?”

  Stellan neared Alastair, though he dodged playfully when he reached out to try and touch him. “Because,” he said, voice much lighter now, “I saw your face when you first laid eyes on me. I doubt you have ever looked at Marianne that way. At the very least, I have never seen you do so.”

  His breath caught. “Did I really look… lovestruck, or something-or-other?”

  “Yes, you did.”

  Now the heat had spread from his ears to his entire face, and Alastair prayed that his cheeks were not as red as his hair. “I don’t think I meant it.” Then Stellan neared, and he leant forward to try and catch him once more, suddenly wondering what his touch felt like. 

  The door creaked open, and from the doorway came, “Alastair?”

  The shock cut through the rest of his battling thoughts, and he ran towards Stellan. “You have to go.”

  He tugged the scarf off himself, glancing at the door. “What is happening?”

  “They cannot see you!” Alastair nudged him to the window. “Go now, please, I will meet you again soon.”

  Dillon burst into the room, seeing Stellan in all his beauty by the window, and froze. 

  Before he could stop him, he rushed out of the room, and Alastair whirled to Stellan. “Please. I don’t know what they will do to you, I don’t want you to get hurt — ”

  “There!”

  He spun to see Dillon back in the room, alongside Marianne and her mother. “I saw him there, with a man in white.”

  “Don’t be silly now.” Marianne sailed to the window. “All I see is my scarf. I think you’re just taking Arthur’s fortunes a bit too seriously.”

  Alastair’s shoulders sagged in relief, realising that Stellan had flown away just in time. “I do hope you do not actually believe that lunatic’s words.”

  Marianne’s mother laughed. “I think he’s just jealous that his best friend got the loveliest girl in the village.”

  “Mother!” She laughed, high and sweet, though it did not warm Alastair’s heart the way he thought it would. “Dillon will find a wife of his own soon, I just know it. There is no need to fight over me.”

  “I wasn’t planning to,” Dillon said gruffly.

  Marianne wrapped her scarf around her neck and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Come on, now. Let Alastair get changed. Go outside and wait for everyone else to show up.”

  Bride-to-be and mother-in-law watched him like a hawk as he changed into his wedding suit, then led him outside where the many wedding guests were assembled. Standing aside was a cluster of bards, bagpipes at the ready. Dillon came up to him, all shock and envy from before gone, and grabbed his shoulder. “It’s your last hour as an unmarried man. We ought to celebrate!”

  The bards began their playing, Marianne pulled him into the crowd and he began to dance.

  It was freeing, for a while, to lose himself in the wild blur of limbs and laughter and simply move without thinking. Alastair had danced this way before, and it would never stop being exciting to him. He laughed, hooking an arm around Marianne’s waist and spinning her ‘round. Little Peter danced in front of him and nearly tripped over his uncle’s shoes.

  They danced, carefree and jolly, and Alastair nearly felt ready for the wedding. But then he saw white again.

  Once more he released her, searching the crowd of people for the one man he knew would stand out. He saw nothing. She took hold of him again, and they continued dancing.

  The next time he slipped away, it was a pair of gossamer wings he saw. Stellan glanced back at him, cheeks pink once more as he sailed elegantly past the partygoers. Unthinking, Alastair reached a hand out, a part of him perhaps hoping to touch his soft hair, but Marianne grabbed his wrist and he was tugged back.

  Throughout the song they played their silent, musical game of cat-and-mouse. Stellan wove in between the dancers, somehow evading notice, while Alastair tried to catch glimpses of him without arousing any more suspicion. Occasionally, when he got bored of spinning and gliding, Stellan flapped his wings a few times to make his jumps higher. His slender arms stretched out in front of him, flowing like a scarf in the wind. In his white clothes, dancing something entirely different, Alastair had never seen someone so graceful.

  When the dancing ended, and Stellan had vanished once more, he was given the ring that would adorn Marianne’s fingers during the ceremony and left alone once more. Alastair ran his fingers over the bronze band, watching it glint in the faint sunlight. Less than an hour later, he would slip this ring on her fourth finger, and she would do the same to him, and that would be it. They would be bound to each other for as long as they lived, and what was left of his nameless, forbidden love would be stamped out for good. But that was what he wanted, wasn’t it? For his desire to finally be suppressed? In that case, the rings would be less like rings and more like shackles.

  Dillon and Marianne’s mother were keeping an eye on him from his spot by the hedges, though they didn’t know he could see them. With his parents no longer with him and her father gone too, her mother was the one who had held fast to the arranged marriage. She wanted security for her daughter, and how better to achieve that than marrying a young, well-off farmer? Alastair clenched his fist around the ring, Stellan’s words were really getting to him.

  A white-clothed figure was lingering behind a tree, peering out at him.

  Speak of the devil.

  Stellan poked his head out, looking so sweet and curious that Alastair nearly laughed. He had woven himself a circlet of white heather, as though fancying himself the one to marry him. He nodded at his hand and tilted his head.

  Oh. Alastair pinched the ring between his thumb and index finger and lifted it up. The sylph raised an eyebrow and pointed at his ring finger in question.

  He nodded.

  Quicker than he had ever seen him before, Stellan leapt out from behind his tree towards him, wings spurring him forward so he was nearly a blur. He grabbed the ring, admired it for a moment, then swiftly fled before he could catch him. “Hey!”

  He slipped the ring on his own finger, glanced back at him and smiled teasingly. Hopping lithely onto his garden fence, he perched on top of it for a moment, winked, then tumbled off and made his escape. Alastair could hear someone yelling at him from behind, but did not turn back. Before he could stop himself, he raced after Stellan into the forest beyond.