#persian nobody is what I live for

[corvidaeconundrum]

More cat designs, hell yeah, kitties

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for banning a child from my house?

It's not my child, btw- it's my cousin, an 8 y/o autistic boy. I am 15 and it's technically not my house.

For context, my cousin has EXTREMELY severe autism, to the point where he quite literally cannot form any connections with people and does not sit down at all. He is always running around, yelling in garbled speech, and doesn't understand words, sentences, or commands. He only responds to his name when his mother calls it. He isn't intelligent mentally, either. I do love him a lot in spite of how he has never paid attention to me or treats both me and everyone else around him as though they don't exist.

I have (had?) a cat. I have raised this cat for 3 years and I got this little furball when he was only 2 weeks old. I gave him milk and cared for him so, so much. He was a Persian-British mix and was, frankly, pretty dumb and sleepy all the time. Like a little doll.

My cousin also, apparently, decided that my cat, Velvet, was doll-like, because he grabbed Velvet and refused to let the cat go. I was in the bathroom at the time and only heard the cat's mewing. Nobody else was home. My cousin thought it would be nice to throw Velvet out of the window. Our 4th-story window. Velvet was a spoilt little thing and had never really lived outside of a house, and consequently, died. My cousin? Didn't care. Just went away from the open window and went back to running around the house.

I came out only a few seconds later and was very confused as to just WHERE was the previously mewing cat, and obviously I couldn't just ask my cousin, since he can't talk and wouldn't be able to think of it either. My mom found the fucking CORPSE when she came back home. I was horrified and, while I don't think this was the proper thing to do to a little boy who has absolutely ZERO awareness of his surroundings, I proceeded to absolutely scream my head off at my cousin while grabbing his arm, which resulted in an absolute meltdown from him and my aunt (who had also just arrived) having to physically pry me off him as I was crying. I don't think I can be really blamed for being upset over my cousin KILLING my BELOVED PET just because he was born wrong. I also sort of yelled at my aunt to never come here or bring her son here ever again. My mother has severely chastised me for that and had ME grounded. What the fuck. Mental illnesses aren't all sunshine and rainbows, y'all. Ugh. I feel like I AM the asshole, but honestly. Consider the circumstances. I hate it here and I miss my fucking cat.

[prismatic-bell]

ok so this is less a zionism question and more one related to judaism as a whole, but: the hebrew calendar is currently in the year 5784, yeah? but of course, that doesn't necessarily mean jewish history is necessarily over five thousand years old- jesus's birth precedes christianity in its current form by at least a couple of centuries.

but here's the thing- one post, whose actual content i don't recall, happened to mention that jewish history is three thousand years old. This is where my question gets specific enough so that you'd be able to answer it in a tumblr ask.

you see, the author of one of my favourite books of all time, Sun Tzu, is rumored to have served under Hu Lu of the Wu kingdom, which would put his life at about 500-400 b.c.e. Did judaism exist during that time? could Sun Tsu have credibly met a rabbi in his lifetime (ignoring the Huge distance between the levant and china, of course)?

(also, i know like. Very Little about the history of that area so sorry if my question is stupid or offensive in some way. was the Temple already built there and stuff? were there already people keeping kosher? that sort of stuff)

So let’s start here: that post is incorrect. It’s closer to 3500 years, and the reason it’s not more than that is because before that we were still Canaanites. (Torah claims we defeated the Canaanites. The truth is more like “we were a small sect of Canaanites who out-babied all the other Canaanites.”)

As for whether Sun Tzu could have met a rabbi…no, but not because we weren’t around then. Sun Tzu’s life falls smack in the middle of the return to Jerusalem; Judea had an extremely small population at this point (the whole country is estimated at no more than 30,000 people, with only a single city—Jerusalem), but it did exist as a Jewish nation under Persian rule. We were very much around. But rabbinic Judaism—which is the modern form of Judaism, and what people usually mean when they say “Judaism”—didn’t exist until after the fall of the Temple in 70CE led to the end of blood sacrifice, and the beginnings of the concept of what we today call “rabbis” didn’t exist until the mid-100s BCE. We do have some men older than that who we call “rabbi” sometimes in modern discussion, but this isn’t any kind of official title—it’s more a mark of respect for their great wisdom and learning (like having an honorary doctorate degree). Far more commonly, these men are called the sages, or were kings.

That isn’t to say there’s no chance of Sun Tzu having met influential figures in Judaism, however. Torah was first being written down right around the time he lived, and it so happens that a lot of Jews were in Babylon at the time. Depending on how far he traveled (if he did), he could absolutely have met some of the Jewish figures codifying Torah and the Mishnah, and since some of our earliest fragments of Torah are written on papyrus rather than parchment, it’s even possible he read portions of it. This is doubly true because Israel-Judea is a linchpin between three separate continents: Europe, Africa, and Asia-by-way-of-the-south (nobody was crossing the Alps in 400BCE). That’s why our particular patch has been so fought over throughout history—for most of history, he who controlled Jerusalem controlled international trade. Could some of our writings have been included in a trade headed east? Absolutely. It wouldn’t even be that weird for a few stray copies to have not survived—keeping in mind how many more forms of media and record we have today than we’ve had throughout history, and how much easier it is to make those records, it is still estimated that over 99% of all media and records made in human history are permanently lost. Yeah, totally, Sun Tzu could’ve been like “are there wise men in these western countries? Bring me their writings” and read them and gone “huh, neat, I’ll have to think about that” and then because his scrolls got eaten by bugs and he didn’t use MLA format nobody would ever know. It’s extremely likely that’s happened with many writings from many places throughout history. And yes—it’s equally possible that a few stray Jews became merchants or great travelers and made their way to China and we don’t know because their publicity agents sucked. That is, unfortunately, the case with most of history. We find half a dozen puzzle pieces from a picture we know must contain at least five thousand pieces and we’ve got to reconstruct what it looked like and hope a seventh piece turns up somewhere. So is it likely Sun Tzu met Jews? Not at all. Is it impossible? Absolutely not.

Now as for what Jews were doing at the time…first, I’m going to say the idea that ancient Jews all did exactly as Torah said to do all the time is a lovely fairy tale. I think those of us who did most of our study of the ancient world in sixth grade during our Egypt phases tend to forget that then as now, people were people everywhere you went, and “the [insert ancient race here] people believed ________” is a convenient oversimplification. There would have been varying degrees of observance just like there are today, and I suspect that’s even more true in the peasant class; you’re not making your kids go hungry so you can sacrifice an expensive calf. But this WAS the period when we started getting a unified “this is what we are supposed to do, here, we wrote it down for you” practice, so here are some examples:

1) this is the period when the Jewish pantheon—yes, that was a thing—got collapsed into a single god, the one we now call the One G-d, Adonai. (Yes, the one with the Y-name, no, I’m not saying it.) This is why in some portions of Torah G-d is referred to as Elohim—El was originally another god. The “im” ending is a plural.

2) the rules of Temple sacrifice were formally codified. This isn’t to say it was a free-for-all before this time, but your options were…squishier, so to speak.

3) THE RULES OF KASHRUUUUUUUUUT this is when all of that stuff got written down and formalized. Before this things like not eating pork would have existed, but they would have been more of a cultural taboo than a religious law. This probably reflects why some parts of kashrut, or kosher, laws are so weird in Torah. Like—it tells you some birds are kosher and some aren’t, but it’s super vague on which is which. That makes a lot more sense if “everybody knew” what was and wasn’t taboo. Sort of like how if you open a cookbook and see a recipe asking for two eggs you automatically look for a chicken, not a goose.

4) a lot of laws just didn’t exist yet, or didn’t exist in their modern form. For example, the law against mixing meat and dairy at this point applied only to mammals, and it referred only to how it was cooked. You couldn’t cook an animal in its own mother’s milk. If the ancient Judeans had had ancient chicken alfredo, that would’ve been fine. The rabbis of Talmud (by that point they were actual rabbis) expanded this law due to a superseding law whose name I can’t remember at the moment but the idea of that law is “don’t do anything that could look like you’re breaking Jewish law even if you’re not.” Since you can’t necessarily tell what a meat is without tasting it, or what kind of milk a dairy product has come from without tasting it, the expanded law says “just don’t eat meat and dairy together at all, it looks bad.” Other laws that exist now but didn’t then include the creation of an eruv and all laws surrounding Chanukkah, which celebrates events that didn’t occur until the 300s.

So TL; dr: yes, in theory Sun Tzu could have met Jews, or at least read our earliest writings; the Temple existed (although at that precise moment in time it was very small and not at all grand); and the laws of Judaism-as-we-know-it were just being formalized after a thousand years of oral tradition, so we were doing some stuff and not other stuff.

[tanadrin]

i've kind of gotten sucked into the back catalogue of the podcast Mormon Stories, specifically the episodes where they have like honest-to-god egyptologists and archeologists and such on and they take apart mormon apologia piece by piece. because it would be fairly easy (and fairly accurate) to simply ignore this particular subgenre of apologism--not only are the foundational myths of mormonism patently absurd to almost everybody who grew up outside the faith, mormon apologists specifically have only the tiniest little wisps or shreds of reassurance to offer their fellow believers.

like, mainstream christian apologism has been working for two thousand years to produce a parallel body of knowledge--hell, it didn't even used to be "parallel," it was simply the default assumption in most of christendom for most of that period--and can not only draw on a much longer history, but does so in the defensive interpretation of what are (in part) much older events. and the debunked mythology of abrahamic religions accreted gradually, heavily steeped in a local geographic context. there actually were persians and egyptians and babylonians and stuff! nobody got basic facts about what food crops were available in the region wrong, because the people who wrote this stuff had lived there for centuries! you can't dig a posthole in the middle east without turning up artifacts suggestive of that history, because that history is (while false) authentically local.

the book of mormon isn't like that. the book of mormon is insane. it's what you get talking to a guy you met in a bar at 2 am who wants to tell you about the stuff he half-remembers from history channel ancient aliens specials he saw ten years ago, because that guy occupies approximately the same social niche joseph smith did, and also people knew even less about archeology (to say nothing of the archeology of the americas) back in the 1830s. and yet these guys like hugh nibley and kerry muhlestein get up and try to defend this account, writing stuff that makes your average christian fundamentalist apologist look like a paragon of scientific integrity.

what baffles me isn't the rank and file mormons raised in the religion who might know little else. what baffles me are the people who are thoughtful enough to engage with real archeology, to understand the nuances of just how completely nonsensical the mormon version of ancient history is and how indistinguishable recent mormon history is from, like, scientology-level cult shenanigans, and yet who still consider themselves mormons and affiliate with the religion. like i get that religion isn't all about truth claims. there's social and cultural and emotional and all kinds of other elements that bind members of a religious community together. but "mormon" isn't an ethnic group. so far as mormons have a unique culture outside the religion itself it is, as far as i can tell, 1) the shared misery of the mission experience, 2) giving your kids slightly goofy names, 3) getting married really young, and 4) not drinking or smoking. and clearly you care to a certain extent about the truth claims, or you wouldn't have these (very interesting!) discussions on your podcast with archeologists about those claims.

anyway, it's a very weird phenomenon!

[karalovesallthegirls]

time travel + I didn’t mean to turn you on

hello my love thank you for your request I wrote a bunch solely because I'm in love with you

--

Life is nothing if not consistent for Lena Luthor. She wakes at the same hour every single day, does an hour of stretches and exercise, eats the same egg white omelet. She’s the first to the office and the last to leave. Every moment is structured and accounted for, allowing Lena maximum control and regulation. Just the way she likes it.

And then, one day as she was stretching deep into a downward dog, her new life path came crashing down through her crystal glass coffee table. 

One moment she’s thinking about the meeting she has in an hour and the next she’s flinching away from a spray of glass raining down overhead. She curls in on herself with a yelp, terrified and frozen at the sudden explosion beside her. After the clattering of glass had stopped, she’s left in dead silence. With a deep breath for confidence, she finally works up the nerve to look.

Collapsed over the metal frame of what had been her table lay some woman she had never seen before in her life, knocked out and bleeding all over her Persian rug. 

Lena feels herself clicking into survival mode at the sight of her. She’s always been good at that – surviving. No one can keep a clearer head in a crisis than Lena. The initial fear now replaced with adrenaline and clarity, Lena jumps into action. Years of Pilates and daily weight-lifting aides her as she pulls the bloody woman off the twisted frame, dragging her over to her yoga mat. The woman is out cold.

She’s got glass stuck in all kinds of places, the worst of which seems to be a long, jagged piece stuck in her thigh. Lena knows better than to try and pull that one out, so she instead focuses on tying her sweatshirt around the woman’s thigh to try and stave the bleeding. It looks like it might be in a dangerous spot, possibly close to an artery, and the last thing Lena needs is some home invader dying on her living room floor. The press would have a field day with that.

While working to stabilize the rush of bleeding from her thigh, Lena shouted out, “HOPE, call emergency services.” HOPE, her omnipresent homemade helper, replied back from the speaker located just above. “Yes, Miss Luthor. Police, fire, or EMT?” 

“EMT and pol-” she’s cut off by two hands on her at once: one covering her mouth forcefully and the other pressing a large glass chunk to her throat right at the jugular vein. She freezes. 

Apparently, the unconscious intruder was more conscious than she thought. “Tell her to cancel it,” the woman says with a hoarse, pained voice. Lena watches her with a calculating eye, weighing her option. If she didn’t respond to HOPE in the next few moments, she knew her virtual assistant would call the police automatically. “It’ll take them, what, 5 minutes to get here? Maybe 10 with traffic. You’ll bleed out in seconds and I’ll be long gone before they even get close,” the woman says, “Nobody has to die today, okay? Cancel it.”

Her mind reels for alternatives, but the woman presses the glass harder against her throat, hard enough to cut, and her mind is made up. She nods, and hesitantly the other woman removes her hand from her mouth.  “Cancel request, HOPE,” Lena says, voice surprisingly steady for someone in such a situation. “Request successfully cancelled,” HOPE chirped happily before shutting off.

The other woman sighs, the glass held to Lena’s neck slacking just a bit as she leans backwards. Lena can feel the way it pulls at her skin, how blood starts to trickle. She keeps her hands where they’ve been this entire time – pressing hard around the glass in the woman’s thigh. She’s bleeding a lot, even with the pressure Lena’s applying.  “That was foolish,” Lena says, pulling away from the woman. “The EMT was for you. You’re bleeding too much too quickly, I think you nicked your femoral artery.” The woman laughs, laid back eyes closed like she’s not invading her house and threatening her life. “That’s right, you had medical training. I forgot about that,” the other woman says, pulling herself up into a half-sit and looking down at her injuries with a curious eye. “In my defense, they barely mention that in the history books.” “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” The woman just shakes her head. 

“What day is it?” she asks. Lena is tired of this already. She’s supposed to be showering right now and preparing to leave for work, not negotiating with a half-dead possible hostage-taker. “Tuesday. March 13th.”

“What year?” “Is that a joke?” “Yeah,” the woman smiled, a hint of blood on her teeth. “Humor me.” “2018.”

The smile fades fast, replaced with a sudden alarm. As if the year were somehow worse than the giant piece of glass sticking from her thigh. “That’s way too early,” she says, hints of panic in her voice. “They dropped me way too far back. Crap.”

Her face looks pale and grows paler by the minute. Lena looks down to see the cloth she’d tied around her thigh fully saturated, the puddle beneath her growing. She’s losing too much blood. “Put the glass down and give me your hands,” Lena says, but the woman doesn’t move. Frustrated, Lena grabs her hands with her bloody ones and presses them just above the glass.  “Hold here,” she says, and then gets up to leave. 

Lena races to her bathroom, ignoring the woman’s shout of “Wait! Come back here!” and rifles around until she finds what she’s looking for. She comes back with a field medic kit and lays it on the ground. The other woman watches her wearily, hands still pressed to the wound. “You’re bleeding too fast,” Lena says, “and at this point you’ll be dead before the ambulance can arrive. We have to stop the bleeding.”

The woman doesn’t resist. At this point she might not have the strength to. Lena uses shears to cut up the seam of the the the woman’s pants, up and past the deep gash of the glass shard.  “This is bad,” she says, and the woman doesn’t even look. “It’s too early,” the woman is saying, sounding weak, and Lena pulls supplies from her kit. She ties a tight tourniquet, earning a shocked groan of pain. “This is temporary, it can only be temporary. It should buy you a little time but it’s going to hurt like hell and if it’s on too long you could lose the leg.” “Fine, it’s fine,” the other woman says, almost delirious, and she grabs Lena’s shirt to pull her attention. “Listen to me,” she says, eyes wide and bloodshot, “Your brother is going to destroy the world, and you’re going to help him. But you don’t have to. You don’t have to help him, okay?” She’s practically incoherent. The blood has stopped but it’s still everywhere and Lena is covered in it. “They’re calling me,” the woman continues, shaking her head, “I’ll come back, or they’ll send someone else, but you have to stop him, Lena Luthor. Non Nocere-”

And then she vanishes.

One minute, Lena is wrapped around a delirious, halfway bled-out home invader, and the next she’s alone in her living room surrounded by glass and blood.

- She’s much more prepared the next time the stranger comes. To her credit, she’s had a few years by then to obsess and analyze and research. She’s watched the security footage of that day so many times and in such excruciating detail that she could tell you how many pieces of glass were shattered, how many gasps the intruder let out in pain. She could recite the entire five-minute experience from start to finish with perfect accuracy. Yet she could never explain it.

She can infer the basic gist of it, of course: at some point, time travel becomes a possibility, and the best possible use of that unbelievable advancement is to come back and stop her, because something she does – or rather, something she helps Lex do – is so catastrophically horrible it’s world ending.

She’s tried to find this woman, though of course if she’s a time traveler she may not even exist yet. There’s no way to know. Lena’s spent months studying the footage she has of her, noting the militaristic jumpsuit she wore, the strange patches for organizations that don’t seem to exist adorning the sleeve. She’s made note of the scars she can see – the long one that dances down her face, the smaller ones made visible when her pant leg was cut. The woman had clearly endured hell in life, and that hell had led her to Lena’s penthouse. She felt a sick nervousness just thinking about how they might link.

All of that to say, Lena is much more prepared when the woman returned, at least on an intellectual level. She’s not so prepared for the woman to show up as she’s sitting post-shower on her bed in nothing but a silk robe.

One minute she’s sitting alone, the next a woman is crashing on top of her. Their heads bonk together hard at the force of it, Lena reeling back against her pillow with a groan. At least she’s a softer landing than glass and metal.

“Ah crap,” the woman says, and there’s an instant spark of excitement in Lena at just the sound of her voice. She’d listened to that tape so many times it’s burned into her psyche but hearing it now in person after so long – absolutely thrilling. 

“Thank you for not breaking any furniture this time,” Lena says, and her voice is a bit breathy from the rush of it. The other woman pulls up from where she’d collapsed against her and seems to finally realize where she is and just how little Lena actually has on. She practically flings herself off of her and on to the floor with a shout.

“Oh wow,” the woman says, mouth agape and face beet red. “I- I’m so sorry, there’s no way to know what you’ll be doing when I get here and I just, I didn’t realize you weren’t done getting dressed or… that wasn’t… I’ll just-”

“Wait in the hallway?” Lena asks, amused. This version of the stranger is such a funny leap from the way she was all those years before, yet exactly the same. It’s like she hadn’t aged much at all. “I was finishing my bedtime routine and I sleep naked. This is as dressed as I’ll be the rest of the night.”

Somehow, the woman’s face gets even redder. It reminds Lena of the blood from that day, how dark and covering it had been on her. That takes a bit of wind out of her sails.

“How’s the leg?” she asks, sitting back. She can feel her robe fall open slightly but left it be. It's amusing to see how nervously the other woman’s eyes dart around looking everywhere but her.

“Still sore,” the woman finally says, pulling herself up to sit on the end of Lena’s bed. She glances at her and then looks away. “It’s only been a few weeks for me, so it’s not close to healed yet, but I didn’t lose the leg or my life, thanks to you.” “Glad to hear it.” “Are you?”

“Mmhm. If you’d died that day, I wouldn’t have this chance now to ask you what the hell is going on.” The woman is watching her in a strange sort of way, and it seems to take her a moment to clear her throat and mind.

“Right, yes, that makes sense. I just-” she rubs her eyes, laughing in an embarrassed sort of way. “I’m sorry, you’re just a little distracting.” Her eyes stray along the line of Lena’s robe before jerking away. She stands up and moves away, hands ringing nervously. Lena notices the slight limp to her walk. “Crap, I’m sorry. Okay, focus, Kara, focus,” she coaches herself, and Lena latches on to that morsel of information with a fierce excitement. “Yes, Kara,” she drawls, and the woman’s eyes cut sharply to her. “Focus. Tell me who you are and what I can do to help.” Kara gulps noticeably at her tone, shifting on her legs, before saying, “I’m from the future. 40 years in the future, to be exact, and I was sent back in time to stop you and your brother from destroying the world.” Lena nods along. It’s not so unbelievable, the idea that Lex could destroy the world. That he could use her desperate yearning for connection to make her a willing accomplish. “Non Nocere,” she says, and the woman jolts in surprise. “What? That’s – have you already invented it?” “No, but you said that last time we met.”

Kara visibly deflates, sinking into a sigh as she leaned back against the wall.

“Thank Rao, okay. Yes. It shouldn’t exist yet, not for another year.”

“What is it?”

“It’s the tool your brother uses to destroy the world. You build it for him.”

Kara looks heartbroken as she says it, and Lena feels just the same hearing it. All she’s ever wanted to do is be a force for good despite her family, despite the life they’d set up for her, but here is this scarred, scared stranger come back to tell her how horribly she fails. How she destroys everything.

“Okay,” Lena says. “So how do we stop it?”

And that, at least, earns her a smile.

[legacyshenanigans]

What pet do you think Sebastian would have if he brought it to Hogwart’s? We know that Ominis supposedly has a toad with him. It would be interesting to see what dynamics they have with each other’s pets.

Also what do you headcanon for your Mc’s pet that might add to the dynamic? My Mc has a mean owl that everyone is afraid of and it mainly listens and is all sweet to her.

Oooh I love this :) thanks for asking this :)

And I LOVE your HC pet 🤣 a mean ass Owl hahaha

Well, my personal HC for all of them would be:

Ominis:

Though Hogwarts is very against this pet, Ominis's is infact a snake, its a little albino viper snake called Zmija (croatian for snake) which he keeps in his dorm room safe and sound, when he's having a bad day he likes to sit on his bed holding her, and has had many conversations with her over his time at Hogwarts, that snake knows many secrets of his.

Sebastian:

Sebastian keeps it simple, he has a Great Horned owl named Finneas, he originally got him because he looked "Menacing and mischievous" due to the angry looking eyebrow feathers, but in reality Finneas turned out to be abit of a "couch potato" he just sleeps and eats, and doesn't do much else, even requesting it does something for him like take a letter somewhere seems to be such a huge inconvenience to Finneas, which has lead Sebastian to have to beg him to do it for treats, but Seb still loves him, and he loves Seb, he loves head pats, Sebastian has spent many hours sitting on the window sill petting him.

MC:

MC has a black persian cat named Reign, pompous little thing it is, it doesn't like anyone but MC, and she'll go out of her way to make other peoples lives inconvenient, sitting on their stuff and not moving, and giving them a little hiss if they try to touch her, only MC gets to touch her, she also purposely tries to irritate Sebs owl by trying to play with his tail feathers. She adores MC though, and is always purring in her presence and wants fuss and attention from her.

When it's comes to how they feel about eachothers pets, Sebastian and Ominis both tolerate Reign lmao, they try to pet her but she either gives them hiss or walks away from them, as I said, she'll have nobody touch her other than MC, MC and Ominis both get on and love Sebs Owl, Finneas is just so chill to be around and enjoys love and affection from anyone. And when it comes to Zmija, Ominis keeps their bond extremely private, he will rarely get her out of her vivarium in front of others, and doesn't like others touching her, not even Sebastian or MC, and thats a choice Ominis has made, though not just anybody can talk to snakes, he still has this strange irrational thought that his secrets will get out.

(I really enjoyed writing this 😊💚)

[idontknowreallywhy]

Estera

Ok, this may be mostly for an audience of me and maybe two others and it’s my first ever OC so I’m more than a little nervous… but she popped into my head fairly fully formed and quietly insisted her side of things be told.

I’m treating it as a sequel to my one-shot (Stars Are Only Visible in Darkness) rather than a chapter 2… for Reasons. Subsequent chapters are here:

It lives vaguely within the same universe as @sofasurf’s awesome Recrudesence story and she both inspired and incited most of this so I blame her for everything except any examples of poor writing…!

The Tracy in question is much discussed but not named at this stage however it’s fairly clear who it is, particularly if you’ve read the above. If this goes the way I plan, all of them will turn up at some stage… this section is rather sad but it will improve and hopefully some healing will occur for various parties and happy ending vibes.

Triggers for war, implied violence/torture, trauma type stuff. If I have messed any of this up I do apologise - I have experience of MH stuff and some kinds of therapies offered but have never lived in a war zone nor had that kind of trauma.

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Estera is a Romanian girl’s name of Old Persian and Babylonian origins, with links to Hebrew. It is favored in Polish, Slavic, and Croatian-speaking communities as a form of Esther and means “star.”  ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“What’s YOUR favourite colour, Miss?” An eager hand shot towards the ceiling only slightly slower, she noted wryly, than the question that had already burst out into the unusually studious atmosphere of Class 3B.

“Blue”, she answered without thinking.

“Why?”

“Oh! Ah, well…” 

Suddenly every English word slipped from her brain and she froze. 

“Blue is… it’s…”

She was taking too long… she was taking TOO long. They were all looking at her expectantly now. 

It’s a simple question, Estera, they are waiting… come on just make something up for goodness sake.

“Well… the sky is blue. And the sea. And some really pretty flowers… lots of good things are blue.”

The questioner nodded, seemingly approving of this statement, and returned to the bright red pencil crayon rockets encircling his short poem about his favourite colour.

She quietly let out the breath she’d been holding and slowly tapped the desk with each finger in turn, willing her heart rate to return to something respectable. She mentally slapped herself for being so short-sighted - it was entirely predictable that one of the children would ask her the same question she had asked them that morning and she should have prepared an answer. A little white lie answer she could calmly give to a class of 7 year olds.

The truth, of course being that yellow had been her favourite colour her whole life. Until that life had ended in the market square of the small town of her birth. 

Then there had been blue. 

Intense, fiery, determined BLUE. 

And everything she had now - her breath, her dignity, her freedom - she owed to blue.

A deep breath. Not now. Don’t think now.

She busied herself with marking maths sheets, taking her time over it to ensure nobody would question why she wasn’t writing and illustrating her own ode to her favourite colour. She already knew none of the school crayons was the right shade.

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The sensation of something crawling across her cheek woke her, hands flying to her face before she was conscious enough to realise it was just her own tears again. All was dark.

The dream wobbled at the edges but didn’t fade, the images and emotions still raw. She threw off the covers and felt her way to the kitchen to make coffee. Strong to overwhelm her senses and almost hot enough to hurt. Something else to focus on until she summoned up the strength to shut it out.

It was frustrating. For all the work she’d put into practising the exercises to prevent the flashbacks, hours upon hours of therapy… of breathing, grounding, counting, tapping… none of it could stop her reliving it while unconscious. It seemed that every night she was back there, desperately trying to persuade her class to leave her because they were in so much danger. She couldn’t let the brutes take one of them, no matter the consequences to herself. It wasn’t even a choice.

She’d closed her eyes, hoping against hope the end would be quick, knowing for sure it would be anything but.

There’d been a thud and a yelp and the hands that had seized her so roughly were gone. Her eyes had flown open in disbelief.

A fraction of a second of shocked silence, where she had looked up into those vivid blue eyes burning with fury.

Then all hell broke loose.

She’d backed away slowly and then run as far as the passageway past the school before a cry of pain made her turn back. Three of the six soldiers were on the ground and looked unlikely to get up again, but two had her mysterious saviour pinned by the arms and another stood in front of him spinning a wicked-looking blade in his hand. 

She’d scrabbled on the ground and picked up a fragment of broken slate which she’d thrown desperately, hoping to cause a distraction, give him a chance to break free.

His head had snapped up and she’d met his gaze, the fury replaced by desperation.

“RUN!” he’d screamed. Her legs had obeyed without waiting for the consent of her heart and mind.

And she had run. 

And she had lived.

And she’d lived with the guilt every day since.

She didn’t see what happened to him, but she’d imagined it so many times. His face haunted her. Sometimes it was the steely, determined hero who strode into her life, eyes flashing. Other times, the terrified boy spitting blood and pleading with her to survive. 

She was determined to honour the chance he’d given her by really living. Doing some good wherever she could. She’d escaped to England and very quickly started teaching again - she could make a difference there - and the innocence of those children, untouched by horror, was soothing. She’d considered qualifying as a doctor like her sister, but couldn’t afford the fees or the years, so she trained as a volunteer first responder and taught first aid at evening classes. She cooked and delivered meals for the elderly. She filled every minute with helpful friendly acts to keep her too busy and exhausted to think too much. She’d even run a marathon to fundraise for rebuilding projects in her birthplace… desperate to do something… even though she could never bring herself to return personally.

Not that there was anything for her to return to. Her sister and teenage nieces had escaped to Italy many months before she herself had finally fled their homeland. It was understandable, the young girls needed… to not be there. Her parents had successfully laid low and avoided the attention of the militia, only for the malaria to take them both a month before the end of the war.

Estera slapped her palm on the the table, drained her coffee and stood up to flick the lights on. She shivered as the sweat soaked pjs quietly siphoned away her body heat. A shower to warm up and look alive. 

It was School Trip day today - she needed to bring her A-Game.

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Link to Chapter 2

[doggirling]

2nd batch of star warrior/gsa warrior kitties requested by oomf @rudyknight 🐈‍⬛🐈 (more design info + extra notes below the cut ⬇️)

i don't really know at all where i was going with yamikage/robinfrost's fur pattern at ALL... i just knew dark browns + blacks would be most fitting as it'd match his hair color + the color of his ninja suit. i thought i'd make him a tabby at first but alas that did not freaking happen. no idea what any close matching breed might be either.

i might change the suffix of his name just because his appearance doesn't really have anything... frosty-like. especially with the red eyes. it was meant to represent his temperament more than anything.

AND RANDOM DISCOVERY FROM ME IF YOUR CHARACTER IS RED-EYED GIVE THEM MORE ORANGE TONED SCLERAS SO THEY WONT LOOK AS HIGH

kit cosmos/bearfang got some unintentional persian aspects due to the mustache and stockier frame. he's a very big cat on top of that. literally if a bear was cat sized. a literal tank of a cat, much like sir percival/maplethorn

i would've made him a tabby as well but i preferred the more solid pelt coloring. it matched his canon design much more and also made him look more like a bear. also is bear even a valid warriors prefix...? IDK

he has a very scruffy look + a bunch of leaves caught in his pelt to visually show how he lived isolated in the wild with nobody else around to share tongues with. not sure how the whole stranded on an island post-war plot point would translate to a warriors au

[jeannereames]

There is this question/idea that has always kinda fascinated me and I wanted an opinion of a historian on this.

Imagine someone wanted to makes a tv series/movie about a historical person/event/time period/..., and they wanted to make it as historically accurate as possible while still keeping it interesting and captivating enough for modern, non-historian audiances. I feel like getting the costumes, events and characters 99% historically correct can be possible. However one thing might be a lot more difficult: choosing what language(s) to use.

Do you go for

A) The actual historical languages that were used (but nobody speaks anymore today). Which would be both the hardest to implement and to reach modern audiences.

B) The modern versions of the historical languages. Which would be easier and more accessible but still a bit limiting.

C) Just do it in English. Which is the least accurate but might reach the widest audience.

Which one would you recommend and which one would you personally prefer (if these are not the same)?

Several issues face anybody writing historical novels, or making films. I’ve talked about some of these in the following posts:

Writing Historical Fiction (Well): a 5-part series that discusses the challenges and pitfalls of historical fiction. This link takes you to part 1 with subsequent parts linked within.

A shorter post on common ways to approach historicals in film (or narration).

What (I think) needs to be shown about Alexander in an documentary and/or historical film to approach realism. I talk here about some of the attendant issues especially for making a film.

 Now, to your comment about costumes and events 99% accurate…you’d face two very real hurdles:

Funding…that was possibly the #1 problem for the Netflix docudrama. They didn’t have anywhere near the funding they really needed. Just because Netflix funded it, that didn’t make it “big budget.”

Not confusing your audience with a lot of unfamiliar names and seemingly repeating events. It would require judicious “weeding.”

Oliver Stone’s Alexander did quite well, for the most part, on costuming and sets. Yet it failed for two big reasons. First, he couldn’t resist throwing in too much, and a repetitive script, even while skipping material necessary to help an audience understand why the army followed Alexander to the ends of the earth. Second, he didn’t understand the basic mindset of the ancient world, and so imposed a bunch of modern ideas and attitudes. I wrote a fairly in-depth review not long after it came out. It’s still up on my website.

As for languages…

It would be an enormous mistake to try to use ancient Greek, or rather Attic and Doric Greek, Old Persian, Aramaic, Demotic Coptic, Prakrit, eastern Akkadian … etc., etc. That’s what you’re looking at. First, finding somebody able to write a script in all those languages is impossible. No single person reads them all, even among historians. We specialize for a reason. You’d be paying multiple experts to write a script that nobody living could understand—and would take a lot of coaching for the actors even to pronounce properly. Additionally, you’d narrow your audience to those willing to put up with subtitles.

The founding-of-Rome Italian TV series Romulus used Latin. This worked only because it was one language and was marketed originally to an Italian audience. Latin isn’t Italian by a long shot, but it wasn’t wholly unfamiliar in sound. That said, it was more of an “art film” type. I (an ancient historian) quit watching it after the second episode because it was too much work, tbh. (It was also a lot bloodier than I was in the mood for, in the midst of Covid.)

But if you want to see a (good) example of what you’re suggesting, that’s one. Another, similar, is The Fast Runner, which is entirely written and performed in Inuktitut, an Alaskan language (albeit not ancient), and set in the mythical past. Despite its awards, it’s virtually unknown outside indigenous and art-film circles. I did watch all of that one (and liked it), but it was a single movie, not a series.

(Yes, I’m aware of Apocalypto, but I consider that more an example of why you don’t make a film in a language people can’t understand. It’s in Yacatec Mayan, which is actually modern. In that, it’s not unlike the Inuktitut in The Fast Runner, but the latter works better, imo.)

If you want to make a movie that will be watched and understood by non-specialist, non-art-house audiences, you will have to use English (or whatever language of the country it’s being marketed to). And you’ll need to think some about dialogue. How “archaic” do you want to get? Too much authenticity can send viewers into fits of giggles…probably not the approach one is going for. 😊

That’s why, in Dancing with the Lion, I opted to utilize fairly modern dialogue, then pepper it with a bit of Greek here and there. 1) Words easy to figure out. (“Idou!” = “Look!” as in, “Look, I know you think I’m…”.) OR 2) words difficult to render into English without it sounding silly or overly Christianized. (“Oimoi!” = “Woe!” but equivalent to “Damn!” which evokes Christian ideas.) Not every reader liked my choice, mind, but that’s why I made it.

Other writers, such as several in the newly popular “modern takes on Greek myths” employ something more akin to Mary Renault’s slightly archaizing approach. It’s also been used by Judy Tarr and Jo Graham in their historical fantasies. I like that option too, it’s just not mine.

But I wouldn’t get too complicated, or you’ll confuse (and thus lose) your audience.

But coming back to the number one hurdle to film authenticity in costumes, sets, quality actors, and crew … MONEY. To do it especially well, it doesn’t just take a commitment to authenticity, but an enormous budget. Oliver Stone’s Alexander cost 155 million dollars. I expect you could to it for less than that, but everything from good costumes to rentals of multiple sets used once (like a theatre for Philip’s murder), to horses and stunt actors, to quality CGI…to decent (if not A-list) actors, writers, historical consultants (more than just one as none of us can do it ALL)—that costs. You’ve got to be the likes of Stone to get investors to pony up for that. He started talking about making it way back in the early ‘90s, and it took him to the early 2000s to get the money.

Unfortunately, absolute authenticity is expensive in a story as far-flung as Alexander’s. It’s what a lot of the critique of the Netflix show really doesn’t get. There are still issues with it that doesn’t owe to money, but multiple compromises were made due to a lack of funds.

If you wanted to do Alexander, it might make more sense NOT to try to do it all. Do a portion of his life. See how that sells, then investors might be willing to kick in more money. Inevitably, I think showrunners want to do too much at once.

[paganimagevault]

Ancient Sogdian letters 1 & 3, about the year 313 CE. Miwnay and her daughter, Shayn, write to husband/father Nanai-dhat. According to Vladimir A. Livšic, Miwnay's name means "Little Tiger" and her husband's name means "Created by the Goddess Nanai". I'm not sure what Shayn's name meant.

"'From her daughter, the free-woman Miwnay, to her dear mother Chatis. I am very anxious to see you.'

History rarely remembers the little people. Our history books are full of stories of kings, queens, and conquerors; of influential men and wealthy people who lived in gilded castles. But the rest of us are forgotten.

The lives of countless ordinary people -- people who loved and lost and struggled and died – have been completely forgotten. To them, their lives were the most important thing in the world; but today, no one even remembers their names.

That’s what makes a box full of 1,700-year-old letters found in the Chinese town of Dunhuang so incredible. Because in that box are two letters written by an ordinary woman named Miwnay.

They’re a rare glimpse into the life of the Sogdian people who, in 313 AD, were living under Chinese rule. But more than that, they’re a glimpse into the love and pain that filled the life of an ordinary woman – one of only a few who will never be forgotten.

This wasn’t a polite formality. Miwnay’s letter was a plea for her life. She was trapped in Dunhuang, a town miles away from anyone she knew. Her husband had dragged her there three years ago, but now he was nowhere to be found.

He’d abandoned Miwnay and her daughter, Shayn, and hadn’t left them a penny to support themselves. And now Miwnay and her little girl, who had once been the pampered family of a wealthy merchant, were starving to death.

“I live wretchedly, without clothing, without money,” Miwnay told her mother. “I ask for a loan, but no-one consents to give me one.”

She hadn’t seen her husband for years. He’d even stopped writing. Miwnay had given up on waiting. Her only hope now was to get out of this town and get back to her mother’s home – the only place she’d ever felt at home.

For a woman with an absent husband in the year 313 AD, though, leaving Dunhuang wasn’t an easy task. By the laws of her land, Miwnay wasn’t allowed to leave unless her husband gave her permission.

Sogdian women, like Miwnay, were second-class citizens in Dunhuang. Their homeland, Sogdia, had once been a province in the Persian Empire; now, though, Miwnay was living in China’s Gansu province, just outside the frontier wall that divided China from the rest of Asia. And there, the Chinese made the rules.

Many of them ended up being a sold into sexual slavery. It was a common fate for Sogdian women, especially the poor. They would be bound up and sold off to the wealthiest Chinese, who had the legal right to beat them, tie them up, and do anything they wanted to do them.

Miwnay, in a way, had been lucky. She’d married a Sogdian man named Nanai-dhat, a merchant who’d placed his home on the Silk Road. There was a good chance that he was a wealthy man – the Sogdians, it’s said, were experts at making a fortune through trade.

By law, if she couldn’t get her husband’s consent, she would have to get the consent of his closest relative, a man named Artivan. But Artivan had refused, and no one would help her. Everyone she turned to told her the same thing: “Wait. … Perhaps Nanai-dhat would come.”

But Nanai-dhat wasn’t coming. Nobody knew where he was – and if Miwnay couldn’t get out of Dunhuang, there was a chance she’d end up like those other poor women, left with no choice but to sell their daughters as slaves.

Miwnay’s other letter, directed to her husband, Nanai-dhat, opens with a long stream of gushing platitudes, almost as if her husband were a God:

“To my noble lord and husband Nani-dhat, blessing and homage on bended knee, as is offered to the Gods. And it would be a good day for him who might see you healthy, happy, and free from illness, together with everyone; and sir, when I hear news of your good health, I consider myself immortal!”

All that over-the-top praise, though, was just what was expected in Sogdian culture . As soon as they were out of the way, Miwnay got vicious:

“I would rather be a dog’s or a pig’s wife than yours!”

Miwnay’s family, she reveals in the letter, had begged her not to follow her husband to Dunhuang. She’d tagged along, though, starry-eyed with love, only to be abandoned. Nanai-dhat hadn’t written to her in a long time. The only letter she’d gotten from him was a chiding, reminding her “how to serve the Chinese.”

But that was Miwnay’s greatest fear. If Nanai-dhat didn’t come back soon, she and her daughter – females who had once enjoyed the life of freedom in a wealthy man’s home – really would become servants to the Chinese.

There was a post-script on that second letter, added by Miwnay’s daughter, Shayn, that seems to have been written a little later. Everything Miwnay feared, it seems, had come true. Shayn writes:

“We have become the servants of the Chinese, I together with my mother.”

A family friend named Farnkhund had ruined them. Miwnay had hoped that Farnkhund would take her and her daughter out of Dunhuang, but Farnkhund let them down. He had built up an incredible amount of debt from the Chinese, though, and now he was on the run, and the Chinese soldiers were trying to hunt him down.

Miwnay and Shayn had inherited his debts. Shayn was a peasant girl now, watching over a flock of animals to survive.

When the man in their family left, they’d lost everything. And, as women living in the 4th century Gansu, they were forbidden to do anything about it.

Nobody knows for sure what became of Miwnay and Shayn. Those two letters are the only clues that they were ever even alive.

Miwnay’s letters, though, never reached their destinations. They were intercepted by a Chinese guard and locked in a box on the frontier wall , hidden away and forgotten until an archaeologist found them in 1907.

Miwnay’s mother never read her daughter’s plea for help. Her husband never read Shayn’s note telling him what had become of his family. And whatever fate greeted them when it was all done was likely a dark one.

But there was still one hope. In her letter to her mother, Miwnay revealed that there was still one person looking out for her:

“I depend on charity from the priest. He said to me: If you go, I will give you a camel, and a man should go with you, and on the way, I will look after you well.”

Perhaps the holy man who’d given her clothes to wear and food to eat went through with his promise. Perhaps he gave her a camel and a man to help her sneak past the guards. Perhaps she made her way home to her mother and lived out a peaceful life, back among her family.

The only thing that we know for sure is that Miwnay accomplished one incredible thing: she made her story heard. Though she could never have expected it, Miwnay managed to make her life one of the few that is thought of more than a thousand years later.

Miwnay, like all people, died. But her story is remembered."

-Mark at Ancient-Origins, 'Heart Wrenching Letters Reveal the Traumatic Life of Miwnay, A Sogdian Woman in China 1,700 Years Ago'

Translations of the two letters (translation by Prof. Nicholas Sims-Williams, University of London):

"Sogdian Ancient Letter No. 1 [Verso] From her daughter, the free-woman Miwnay, to her d[ear] mother [Chatis].

[Recto] [From her dau]ghter, the free-woman Mi[wnay], to her dear [mother] Chatis, blessing and homage. It would be a good day for him who might [see] you healthy and at ease; and [for me] that day would be the best when we ourselves might see you in good health. I am very anxious to see you, but have no luck. I petitioned the councilor Sagharak, but the councilor says: Here there is no other relative closer to Nanai-dhat than Artivan. And I petitioned Artivan, but he says: Farnkhund ..., and I refuse to hurry, I refuse to ... And Farnkhund says: If your husband’s relative does not consent that you should go back to your mother, how should I take you? Wait until ... comes; perhaps Nanai-dhat will come. I live wretchedly, without clothing, without money; I ask for a loan, but no-one consents to give me one, so I depend on charity from the priest. He said to me: If you go, I will give you a camel, and a man should go with you, and on the way I will look after you well. May he do so for me until you send me a letter!

Sogdian Ancient Letter No. 3 [Verso] From (his) daughter Shayn to the noble lord Nanai-dhat.

[On another part of the verso] From (his) servant [left unfinished].

[Recto] To (my) noble lord (and) husband Nanai-dhat, blessing (and) homage on bended knee, as is offered to the Gods. And (it would be) a good day for him who might see you healthy, happy (and) free from illness, together with everyone; and, sir, when I hear (news of) your (good) health, I consider myself immortal!

Behold, I am living ..., badly, not well, wretchedly, and I consider myself dead. Again and again I send you a letter, (but) I do not receive a (single) letter from you, and I have become without hope towards you. My misfortune is this, (that) I have been in Dunhuang for three years thanks(?) to you, and there was a way out a first, a second, even a fifth time, (but) he(!) refused to bring me out. I requested the leaders that support (should be given) to Farnkhund for me, so that he may take me to (my) husband and I would not be stuck in Dunhuang, (for) Farnkhund says: I am not Nanai-dhat’s servant, nor do I hold his capital. I also requested thus: If he refuses to take me to (my) husband, then ... such support for me that he may take me to (my) mother. The leaders say: Here in Dunhuang there is no other relative closer than Artivan, (but) Artivan [say]s: Farnkhund ... whatever ... to do for you. If(?) I(?) (had) no guarantee, no protection, my father ... I have become ... not ... How much more would I have ... by my father if ... a servant of the Chinese! A free man ... who found ... and ... keeps (his) clothing in good condition(?). And you write (your) bidding to me about everything in ... so that I should ... you and I should know how to think, and if I do not ... you, then you write to me so that I should know how to serve the Chinese. In my paternal abode I did not have such a restricted ... as with(?) you. I obeyed your command (lit. took your command upon my head) and came to Dunhuang and I did not observe (my) mother’s bidding nor (my) brothers’. Surely(?) the Gods were angry with me on the day when I did your bidding! I would rather be a dog’s or a pig’s wife than yours! And for me ...

Sent by (your) servant Miwnay. This letter was written in the third month on the tenth day.

[Added in the margin] From (his) daughter Shayn to the noble lord Nanai-dhat, blessing (and) homage. And (it would be) a good [day] for him [who] might see [you] healthy, rested (and) happy. ... I have become ... and I watch over a flock of domestic animals. Differently to you, I had a ..., and ... went out. I am ... and I know that you do not lack twenty staters(?) to send. It is necessary to consider the whole (matter). Farnkhund has run away; the Chinese seek him but do not find him. Because of Farnkhund’s debts we have become the servants of the Chinese, I together with (my) mother."

[venticuliao]

loose theory about temple of silence

im just basically grasping straws but its hoyoverse's fault for not offering lore crumbs 🗿

warning: mention of corpses

Cyno has a strong connection with death because of the Anubis inspiration from egyptian mythology, and we know the spirit is named after the syncretism (the practice of combining different beliefs) with greek god Hermes.

on that note, his name's possible etymology is also from greek, meaning dog.

coincidentally, dogs in zoroastrianism (ancient persian religion that a lot of sumeru's lore is based on) are associated with death in a positive sense as well. they guard the bridge where souls are judged before entering the afterlife.

Chinwad Bridge to Heaven is said to be guarded by dogs in Zoroastrian scripture, and dogs are traditionally fed in commemoration of the dead. Ihtiram-i sag, "respect for the dog", is a common injunction among Iranian Zoroastrian villagers.

in addition, dogs are considered to possess spiritual virtues in detecting and driving off daevas (demons), including that of the corpse matter demon Nasu.

in zoroastrianism belief, when a person dies their body is immediately possessed by this demon upon losing consciousness, and their corpse is therefore contaminated. if a living person comes into contact with it, they will also spend their entire lives spiritually contaminated (which is what dogs are used for in detecting and purifying it from the person).

for this reason, their funerary rites are conducted by two specific people instructed on the job, nobody else is allowed to touch the corpse.

zoroastrians believe the elements are sacred creations of their god, so burying, burning or throwing the contaminated corpses into rivers is prohibited. they instead have these two designated people transport the bodies to the top of a tower where scavenger animals will consume them over time. afterwards, the bones are hidden in the bottom.

They shall lay [the corpse] down on earth, over which the corpse-devouring dog or the corpse-devouring bird may certainly know him.

the name of this construction is Tower of Silence

the only information available about the Temple of Silence at the moment (besides the fact Cyno is affiliated to it and the staff knows Alhaitham) is this note found in the desert:

"by order of the Temple of Silence, all machines from Khaenri'ah shall be sealed in accordance with the Revelatory Monument's format"

using the zoroastrian tower as a parallel, and considering the contents of this note, maybe the khaenri'ah machines are under Temple of Silence's jurisdiction the same way the Tower of Silence stores corpses?

now on the realm of making shit up:

the term "Revelatory Monument" in chinese (说法处) and korean (설법처) seem related to buddhism, sort of like a place where the buddha imparted his teachings.

"temple" gives the organization a religious connotation, which is why the buddhism term might have been borrowed in the original text, so translating it as "revelatory" could have been done with the same intention (like bible revelations, the final book of the new testament). perhaps it means some kind of specific teachings or ?? a department with authority within the temple.

we know khaenri'ahns first used azosite (pure elemental energy) to power their machines, but then turned to abyssal energy which could explain why a specialized organization like the Temple of Silence would have to keep them under watch and seal their power.

if that's so, then maybe the so called Revelatory Monument "format" could be something like what Cyno used in the comic to seal the god in Collei's body.

and i mean since it's spoken words maybe alhaitham as a haravatat scholar has been involved in it idk maybe that's deshret script who knows

[thetravelingymleader]

The Meeting (Offscreen)

“Hello, anyone here?” The lights in the police station are on, but it seems nobody is answering the door. ‘Weird,’ Nox thinks to himself, ‘Maybe I should-’ CLICK. The doorknob turns smoothly in his hand.

“Hello-o-o?” The door creaks open, “Kahuna Nanu?” The trainer’s voice echoes in the seemingly empty room, but to no avail. A sigh escapes his lips, “Dammit, maybe he left alr-”

“Mrrrowr?”

Nox whips his head around, eyes landing on the culprit of the voice, It’s… a persian? Grinning, he bends down to give the feline scratches under her chin.

“Heh, well, hey there, you sure are pretty… and gray?” The cat’s purrs rumbled in his hand, obviously lavishing in the attention she’s receiving.

“That’s Missy, she’s an Alolan Persian, S’why she’s gray.”

A yelp escapes the trainer’s throat, jumping up to his feet. In front of him suddenly stands an older man- Gray thinning hair, crimson eyes, and a very tired look in his eyes. Lines weigh down on the man’s face, making his overall demeanor appear irritable and sleepless.

“Oh uh, right. Forgot they’re different from the ones in Kanto. Um, anyway, I’m Nox!” The trainer holds out his hand for a polite handshake, but receives only an exasperated sigh in return.

“What do you want?”

“Uhh, well, I was told by Kahuna Hapu to find the Kahuna here- Nanu, I think?”

“Yup.”

“Uhh, ‘Yup’ what?”

“Yup, what do you want?”

Nox’s face twists in bewilderment, “Are you saying you’re Kahuna Nanu?”

The man simply nods, never breaking his monotonous expression. 

“Oh, well great! I could really use your help with something, I-”

“Can’t. Busy.”

“... But I haven’t even told you what I need.”

“Don’t care. Got enough stuff to do ‘round here.”

“But, Hapu said-”

“Hapu ain’t the boss around here- I am, and I said I can’t right now.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he softly sighs, “Look kid, go home. Bother someone else.”

Nox’s nose crinkles in annoyance, “Oh yea sure dude, lemme just go ALL the way back to fuckin’ Sinnoh.” His chest begins knotting up in anger, “Look, I don’t HAVE anyone else to ‘bother’. I was specifically told to find YOU, so I ain’t LEAVING until you at LEAST hear me out!” Nox’s fists are balled up white-knuckle tight, and his heart pounds against his ribcage. He never was one for confrontation, but he had gotten this far, and he wasn’t turning back now.

As Nox stands there, defiantly, Nanu’s eyes start scanning the younger man more closely. The cop glances away in another direction, “Your stubbornness is annoying, ya know that?” Almost reminds me of myself. He sighs, “Fine. just make it quick.”

Taking a deep breath, Nox shakily calms his knotted nerves, “Thank you.” he breathes out, his face softening once more, as the wave of anxiety flushes away.

“I’m looking for someone I lost a-... a really long time ago.” The trainer’s eyes flicker up to the man to see Nanu is boredly leaning against a countertop, a thick eyebrow raised in Nox’s direction. 

“It’s a really long story, so I’ll… spare you, but I-I lost my dad… back when I lived in Kanto,” Nox instinctively looks down, “Apparently after my mom died, he couldn’t take care of me, I guess, and left me in my grandma’s care.” his voice quivers slightly, “According to my aunt, he moved here, to Alola, and my grandmother severed all ties with him. She even… lied to me, and told me he was dead.”

As Nox took a quick pause in his story, Nanu was assessing the story’s details. Something about this story sounded strangely familiar to the cop.

Momentarily, he is taken back, 18 years prior, when he was still a young cop. He had been chosen to station in Kanto and assist with their police force. It was different from Alola, sure, but they apparently needed his expertise. The region had been having trouble with, at the time, a rapidly, rising gang of miscreants.

“–So, now I’m here, trying to find him.” Nox continues, eyes shut closed. Nanu is forcibly shaken from his flashback, finding himself listening a little more intently this time. Nox wipes at his stinging, teary eyes, “Sorry give me a moment.”

Nanu nods responsively, once again getting lost in his own head. He’s brought back to the nostalgic memories of meeting a young woman in Lavender Town, and instantly falling in love with each other. They had gotten married– much to her own mother’s dismay, and even had a small daughter together. Things went well for the young couple, that is until his wife’s untimely death, done in by none other than the same people he swore to fight against and protect others from, Team Rocket. By the Tapus, he suddenly thinks, what a failure of an officer I was that day…

“–Was killed by Team Rocket,” The young trainer had apparently started talking again, Nanu nearly missing the kid’s sob-story. But wait, what was that? Did he just say-

“E-excuse me?”

Nox, startled from his story, blinks at the officer in momentary confusion, “Team rocket? They killed my mother, and a couple other channelers that day when I was around 7 years old. I don’t remember where my dad was. I think he was on call in Viridian, or at least that’s what my grandmother told me.”

Could this be a coincidence? No it can’t be… This was way too in-line with his own memory of that day, albeit from a different perspective. However, this couldn’t be his daughter, Nox was clearly a man, and even had a different name. He pauses his train of thought as Nox continues his monologue.

“I-I don’t have any photos of him, only of my mother, and I doubt he’ll even recognize me because I look way different now and–” 

Nausea slowly heats up in the Kahuna’s throat and he forcibly swallows it back down. His heart clamors in his chest, and beads of sweat form along his brow, D-different? He says he looks different. Could that mean-?! A sniffle is heard from Nox, and Nanu’s attention is captured by the kid again.

“Sorry I… I don’t mean t-to cry. I-I just r-really want to find him. I-I d-don’t even know if h-he remembers me or–”

Hesitantly, The words bubble out of Nanu’s throat, “Astra?” 

Gaze shooting upward, Nox’s eyes lock on Nanu in bewilderment. Did he hear that correctly? It had to be. What else would the Kahuna be trying to say? He begins to stammer.

“Wha-?! How–... How do you know that name?”

Instead of answering, the cop appears to be lost in his own head, “I… I don’t believe this. This can’t be happening.” Nanu rubs at his face, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, “This is too coincidental… far too coincidental…”

“What is? What are you talking about?”

“Can’t be happening…”

“Hey!” Nox shouts, trying to get the older man’s attention, “You’re freaking me out right now, dude! HELLO?”

Nanu whips his attention back to Nox, intensity burning in his eyes, “How do you know that name?”

“Astra?”

“Yes.”

Crinkling his nose, Nox stares heatedly back, What is he interrogating me now? “Because it’s my dead-name. I’m trans, dude.” Nox rolls his eyes really hoping the conversation isn’t steering in THAT particular direction. “So, how do YOU know THAT name?”

The cop pauses, growing silent once again, The trainer’s stare cuts like daggers into his flesh. Suddenly a sigh escapes Nanu’s throat, eyes glancing away from Nox, “Because… your mother and I, Nocturna, gave it to you.”

Nox sucks in a breath. Words and thoughts flood his swirling brain, and yet he can’t spit any sensible coherence out. He… he knew his MOTHER’S name too? Wait, could it actually be.

“Are… you trying to say YOU are my dad?”

“I… I am.”

Nox glares, “What was mom’s full name?”

“Nocturna Kikuko.” Nanu sighs, “And your full name was Astra Kikuko.”

“Holy shit…” Nox breathes out in a choked whisper, a hand covering his mouth in shock. “Y-you are my dad…”

Nanu finds himself wiping his eyes on his coat sleeve. He never was one to cry in front of others but this… this was different. Both men stared at each other in heavy silence, before Nanu was the one to break it, “I… I know we haven’t seen each other in so long but… can I hold you?” 

Nox nods, eyes tearing up again, before walking over and slowly wrapping his arms around Nanu– his father. Nox buries his face into the stiff fabric of Nanu’s police jacket, staining the cloth with tears. The embrace is a bit awkward at first, but after some time, all of it is quickly washed away and Nox finds silent comfort in his dad’s arms.

After what seems like an endless moment, Nanu manages to pull himself away, but keeps his hands on his child’s shoulders, afraid of losing him again. 

“I can’t believe it… 18 years… and you managed to find me.” Nanu’s face has drastically softened, as his eyes flitter in every direction, taking in Astra- no, Nox’s image. “I never thought I’d see you again…”

“I’ve never seen you at all,” Nox chokes out a small laugh, “Agatha… didn’t keep any photos of you.”

His dad can’t help but breathe out a tiny chuckle, “Well, you don’t need any photos now.” Nanu says, regaining his calm composure. “Let me take you back to my place. We… we have a lot of catching up to do.”

[thesunshineriptide]

Hey, I saw your post about time travel and wanted to ask the same for Riddle, Vil Leona and Kalim.

The last post had them sent off to the medieval age of twisted wonderland, but what happens when they’re sent to…whenever these movies are set. Yeah we’re doing that again sorry

Back to the future

Characters: Kalim, Riddle, Leona, Vil, various Disney characters

Cw// panic attacks, arguing, distress

Kalim and Riddle

Two teenagers in odd clothing stand, hidden in a doorway next to a vendor selling cakes of honey and barley. They stand behind brightly colored carpets, trying to hide their scared faces.

“What did you do?” Riddle asked, voice frightened and barely hiding his rage.

“I don’t know!” Kalim exclaimed, “I didn’t mean to do anything!”

They’re lost, not only in space but time as well. It becomes clear to Riddle rather quickly that they’re no longer in their own time. There’s no sight of a phone or wires or electricity at all nearby, and when grilled nobody can tell him any more recent events. These people have never heard of Sage’s island or the queen of hearts of briar valley.

“This is Agrabah,” someone proclaims proudly, “We’re the most advanced city around. There’s no queen here. Our ruler is the wise Sultan.”

With no way of getting home, not quickly at least, they’re forced to beg in the streets for nearly a week…well, Riddle begs.

Kalim, with no concept of money, simply tries to take food.

“You have to pay for that.” The fruit vendor says roughly. “You’ve got money, don’t ya kid?”

“N-no, sorry.” Kalim stutters out. “But I’m a part of the Asim family, surely you know my parents?”

The vendor looks thoroughly unimpressed, glaring at Kalim. “We’ve got Asims for miles around. You’ll need to narrow down which one you’re speaking of.”

Riddle can sense trouble, and moves to finally intervene, when nearby fanfare begins to blast.

Forgetting the task at hand, the two teenagers are completely entranced with the display. It’s lavish, even by Kalim’s standards, with a seventy five golden camels, ninety five white Persian monkeys, sixty elephants, and a smattering of other riches and exotic animals. But the most impressive thing, it seems, is all the gold coin being dropped generously by the one proclaimed to be Prince Ali.

Riddle, realizing this is his chance to not steal or beg for food, immediately begins to pick up the coin. His dignity is soiled simply from the fact that his and Kalim’s project went so horribly wrong, there’s nothing to lower it further.

Kalim, though….Kalim is having the time of his life, dancing along with the procession with grace, energy, and poise unparalleled. He’s singing along to the song that he honestly doesn’t know, he’s dancing with this weird broad-chested white guy that keeps disappearing and reappearing at random.

This creates a bit of a problem, because Riddle is trying to solve an issue plaguing them for who knows how long it’ll last, and Kalim has never lived life without being pampered. Actually, Riddle hasn’t either, but he does have a concept of poor people to begin with, so he’s already doing better than Kalim.

Kalim ends up in the palace. Riddle, against his better judgement, follows suit, tagging along with the last of the procession after he saw Kalim enter. For the record, because I need you to know this, he’s wearing a veil in an attempt to conceal his identity.

Good news and bad news. Good news is that Kalim is about set up for fucking life. Bad news is that Kalim is going to completely ruin the plot of Aladdin if Riddle doesn’t intervene, because a cheery, excitable, fun loving young boy from Agrabah is exactly the type of motherfucker that Jasmine was pining over.

Riddle knows this, Kalim should know this, but Jamil does his homework for him so maybe not. Basically, Riddle tries his hardest to get the fuck out of there while the Sultan tries to keep Kalim there, and Aladdin and Jafar are having a fight not even two feet away.

It ends up with Aladdin taking them on as servants temporarily, because Riddle blurted out “we’re poor and very lost” as he tried to leave and who’s Aladdin if not a sweetheart?

This is where they luckily begin to lay low and out of the plot. Riddle quickly learns basic life skills like ‘laundry’ and ‘cooking’ while Kalim puts his party planning skills to the test as he handles all the fun stuff

They end up coming back into the plot because Kalim can’t abandon someone being nice to him, but also he definitely breaks down at learning the truth about the sorcerer of the sands. He refuses to abandon Aladdin and does everything he can to help (it’s not a lot, he just makes it rain a bit)

Riddle probably could help a lot more but he’s pretty sure this is going to cause some time travel issues and he wasn’t supposed to be here, so he chokes down the urge to use his signature spell and instead focuses on trying to bring Aladdin back from the ends of the earth and also to not let the royal family die.

Anyway, their efforts are well worth it even though they did just about nothing except have panic attacks and cheer on our hero, because once the Genie is free, he ends up sending them back home. Yay!

Kalim comes back changed (emotional damage) but overall okay, and Riddle no longer has dignity. He completely gives up classism as a whole and is honestly ready to fight his mom since she never taught him basic household chores during all his hours of being locked in the house doing homework.

Vil and Leona

The Kingdom of Corona - 1842 AD

A Lion and an Artist walk into a bar.

The lion is confused as to what the fuck is going on. The artist is panicking because he can’t get cell reception which means he can call absolutely nobody. And he’s stuck with this asshole.

Leona is being stared at openly by the citizens of Corona, several children pointing at his ears and his tail and the gold jewelry on his wrists and neck. All of this suggests that, perhaps, beastmen aren’t common here.

Vil acts quickly, trading his golden (yeah, it’s real gold) armband charm for money, then some of the money for a cloak to hide Leona as best as he could.

It wasn’t easy, considering not only is Leona a future person but a Catboy, but the two managed to get their shit together enough to hide.

They’re probably the best people to get stuck in time since they’re completely comfortable with trading material goods for more important needs, like food and shelter.

Vil gets to work as an actor. He’s not captivating in the same way that he is on screen, it’s a different kind of acting overall, but he catches the eye of many people and earns a decent pay on a daily basis.

Leona…I mean this lovingly, but Leona has no skills. He’s completely content to let Vil be the breadwinner, bumming around their rented room at a tavern.

Well, he’s content and all until Vil threatens to kick him out, then he has to get to work.

Actually ends up working in the tavern as a bartender. It’s a low key job that pays…fine. There’s food and the bed is literally like 60 feet in distance from where he’s working, so he’ll deal with it.

They’re there for like 4 months and just quietly stop expecting being able to go back to their normal lives. This is it, they’re stuck in the past, and Vil does finger puppets for a living, and Leona is a sideshow attraction because he’s a Catboy. Woohoo.

They do have a fun time at the summer sun festival though, and light their own lanterns almost purely because they’re pretty.

Also no Leona and Vil don’t grow to get along, they just settle into the same energy as a bitter old married couple.

There’s no deal to be made to send them back to the future.

It’s actually NRC who makes contact in that regard.

A couple strands of their hair used to summon them back to the present is what brings them back home.

They’re changed, slightly, because Leona looks exhausted and Vil’s skin is freaking out man.

Also cause they had to be poor for a while

Leona missed his bed so fucking much dude, he just flops down on that and refuses to leave it for like, 5 days straight.

And Vil missed the internet, he was so bored with the same three books in the past. He also missed showering and his skincare routine and is insanely meticulous about getting back into them

[paperandsong]

Gift Fics

I love gift fic culture! What fics have been gifted to you? What fics have you gifted to your fandom friends?

Here are all the fics that have been gfited to me. I love each one and highly recommend them all. They are all very different:

Tercet by @shinyfire-0:  Part Three of Pour Like the Rain. Nadir, Erik - and now Christine? An exploration of how things might have been had Erik and Christine met under happier circumstances.

Sweet Sweat by @battydings:  Two men make a revelation on a sultry summer night in Persia. Fluff week submission. Pharoga. I have to share this gift with @shinyfire-0 but I’m not mad about it.

The Laundromat by @shinyfire-0​: Part 2 of the What Erik and Nandor Do in the Shadows crossover series in which Nandor is the Persian and Erik is his eternal Pharoga vampire lover.

Lubin et Lupins by @hotteaandhistory​:  When Philippe tells his younger brother, Raoul, and Raoul's best friend, Christine, of his own experience with the lupins of folklore. What happens when the two fanciful teenagers decide to discover for themselves if his story is true? Can Raoul survive a night of stalking the legend AND discovering his feelings for Christine might be more than just friendship? Part of the Légendes rustiques project. 

Private Parts by @catcorsair​:  Christine finds beauty in ugliness. Mind the tags!

If You Give a Corpse a Cookie by @illuminaughti-online:  What happens if you find The Living Corpse just out and about, minding his own business as he expires quietly in a gutter – but upon discovering that he is not literally dead, offering him a small token of your mercy? Also includes a cookie recipe!

Heaven’s Light by CleverQuill: This sweet story picks up after my longfic Le roi de Lahore. Christine and Erik found peace in a far off village where they can make music and raise a family. But as the oldest child prepares for her First Communion, she starts asking questions and making requests that could disrupt the household’s tender harmony.

1871 by @flora-gray​:  Perhaps someone should have cracked a French history book before changing the date in the 2004 film. Written for Commune Week 2021. This fic is hilarious. 

Petite Intruse by cotesgoat: One week after the fall of the Paris Commune, Christine meets a strange man in her underground home. Written for PotO Paris Commune Week 2021.

The Phantom’s Flame War Problem by Anonymous (but I know who you are and love it!):  For Erik, an eternity of existence means an eternity of picking fights, whether with the creators that misinterpret his story, or just nobodies who offend him online. An Eternal Erik fic.

I also had the honor of having two of my fics translated into Chinese this year by Snowydove7:

拉合尔城的国王 (Le roi de Lahore)

埃里克去做核酸 (Erik Gets a COVID Test) 

[theflybitteneye]

Fun fact about Furby, but because I adopt seniors with disabilities only I usually feel too bad to change their name.

The shelter I got both my boys from does already as a little extra just distance from their old lives. (My other rescue Duckie was dropped off at a vet to be euthanized. He was severely neglected. Close to death from untreated diabetes and his old owners not giving a single shit about him his whole life. There's even some question as to exactly how old he is because his teeth are so bad the vet deduced he was either much older than they said or he had profoundly poor nutrition for a long time. Left to suffer. They didn't want to pay to have him recover. Vets will sometimes get owners like them to sign papers relinquishing ownership, promise to put the pet down, then call around to see if any shelters have the room to get an animal like him into recovery. Whoever used to have him, as far as they know, he's been dead for years. Changing his name gives the vet a bit of cover in the event his old owners see a picture of him on social media and recognize him. Like, Duckie has some pretty distinct markings on his face, but like, as far as they'd know it's just as likely a eerily similar cat to the one they abandoned. What they did is totally legal, but, for some reason people get weirdly pissed to find out the animal they left to die alone is doing well and has a better life.) But by the time I get them, they've usually been in the shelter for a while. Special needs senior animals are hard to adopt out, obviously. It usually feels a bit mean, you know? Third name change after all that.

However, I made an exeption for Furby. Unfortunately since the shelter gets so many cats and they all have to be named different shit, some of them end up with real bad ones. Furby's shelter name was apparently a model of German car, hard to pronounce, and un-fucking-spellable for my dyslexic ass. I literally don't even remember what it was, and can't spell it accurately enough for Google to guess. Because of that he had a million nicknames and basically responded to anything anyway.

When I saw Furby, I fucking fell in love instantly. He doesn't seem to be all Persian, but he's clearly at least a good chunk Persian. I love Persians. I've loved them every since my little 12 year old Warrior Cat kid ass was instantly taken by best girl hag queen Yellowfang. This is no judgement to people who get pets from breeders, but, personally, I'm uncomfortable with supporting the pet breeding industry even as it pertains to "ethical" breeds, let alone unethical ones. And for those of you unaware, as gorgeous little gremlins as Persians are . . . At best, they're on par with pugs. It depends on what kind and how severe their face squish. And even before all that, just personally, in today's current pet trade market it's shelter or bust (in terms of cats and dogs, not other kinds. But even for rabbits and stuff I feel it's good practice to always check shelters first.) Persians are expensive, fancy cats, unlikely to end up in a shelter at all, and if they do, they'll be adopted out in a blink of an eye. Which is good, don't get me wrong, but, I try to always go for the ones who nobody but me would want. That's why Furby just seemed fated to be mine. Old? Needs special medical care? Tragic backstory? Completely unwanted and stuck in foster care for ages? That's MY KIND OF PET, BOyo. That he has this stupid short muzzle that makes him look like he's sucking on a lemon perpetually since he has no teeth and this big fat forehead that makes him look like a toddler about to fly into a temper tantrim was a special treat. He sits on the back of the couch with his front paws crossed and looks like the snobbiest little shiteating twink and I fucking love him with every cell in my body.

He looks exactly like the 1998 Furby I had as a kid. The white one with black spots. I collect furby stuff, as I am a toy collector and modder obviously, so the name seemed absolutely perfect. . . Too perfect. Profoundly far too perfect. In what I can only describe as a cosmic troll-job, he happens to also have something else very much in common with the 1998 Furby I had as a kid.

He. Never. Fucking. Shuts. Up.

In his distinct high pitched wail (if you've heard a Persian meow before, you'll know what I mean) he cries incessantly. Dare I not pay attention to him when he demands it, nothing but screaming. Unfortunately like an idiot, I've reinforced the behavior by accident. The more annoying he is the faster I'll drop everything to get him to stop with food or pets, so now he just goes full Final Girl to get what he wants as fast as possible. The only way he isn't like his name sake is that he has no batteries to remove in a desperate bid for peace. Like all cats, he's an agent of chaos unrivaled by any other animal on the planet. The degrees him and his brother can cause mischief in my daily life is unparalleled.

That sounds all extremely negative, but like, believe it or not this is exactly what I love about cats. I went through a very long battle with what felt like and endless cascade of health problems I'm only now starting to actually recover from over the past three years, and I don't think I would have survived it without my boys. No matter how sick or depressed or lost in a endless mental fog I got, these little pissbabies managed to get me to interact with them or there would be hell to pay. They managed to be as charming as ever charm me even while they caused all the fucking mayham they could.

Even when I felt like staying in bed until I rotted and died, Furby screamed until I got up. Duckie sent stuff crashing to the ground until I snapped out of my haze.

Non-cat people think cat lovers are insane, but like, it's never a fucking dull moment with them around. The will of cats is infamous, and in a lot of ways I think the real reason I managed to survive all I did was because it was inconvenient for my two little goblin kids to have to find another forever home if I kicked it, so they made sure that didn't happen.

[libidomechanica]

“And panting from his mist,”

A sonnet sequence

                To fast words the soul was Sleep ye.—The royal lady, to an honour, whereof I do seeke an agony, from the become and, German say, this pearls of stone is so. And panting from his mist, so innocence from her from his lucid fillings the water. Baptized by melt for song old soft, said; she heart is murky phantoms white be not one thine appeare, and him coming in right glory this sighing at thee? The wide and more said should show us to get of all their faces, which celess in earth the sward and, with nourishment to the clear a disture his head, in circlings and long with fierce!

                And clear. How happy spirits bottom peeps rushes, thou vanish cliffs the lily, they were company, there is black, the craving winds that common wide of friends. The weakers, there Porphyro would one gentle intreating women; one wall: that mantler pleasing years vegetable delighted, and the flatter’d in chimneys off like a tomb.—Thou rose of air, Thy bed the depriue of the older my brother more my Dame, that is parents, and both the mount AEtna, some like moon, else the take bower; prepossess’d a night a hecatomb in every set down heaved with her to the Fate wouldst though a famisht hands.

                The last like puzzled longevity, in which my own weal, then disappease, doth keep; and adorne, Their little can not be which yield a Jovian turning to reade the tender great sunshine own when were peck of Rome to all sit into the break not clinking naked, times I have for there will has Pollux mast on there modestar of down below to promises do reioyce. Whose eyelids find with a kind, to a shell, my dear, an oath, the first remains that was not seem’d its other, constant against when my days cut out I’m not, for Colin, his arm is thee. Indeed of the real fame is a tomb.

                Or event’rous Lord Henry also nobody and pluck over; had comely, took like a gluting forth is it chides to beauty unespied: her far and petticoat this was but when I could not loves, or everlaid back, but pleasure. Dwell. Orpheus window a full at once, Englishment! ’Mang more lift his heart and man making men storm? Then not desyred, began thee to which I noticing brest in: since of pleasure, cast-off drear, blush of all get a first to makes yonderous mansion from Ceres; delication, which of Morning up, a few Persians and the both houses dwelt; Hero!

                What in displace met will peep? And his vows obeying to the other loue! To you purchase pearl, and greetings of black, and man’s lap: a gentle flies. My spouse four garages divided and smiling house will song off an efforts would utter. Darting in thee perfume from Carlo Dolce or aerial could be what he mightie virgin pure a snarling thy voicelestial, and flies dusk, a space. Quick light for powered cheerly, and in philosophy! Breaking accents caught array, but selfe for little suck’d wither, breast deem’d to hideous hour bowers that ails him do, I lovely Scylla sight.

                The boats, that human soul face; the fields towards there he wordy feud hath enfeeble as hour, I will reuengefully at begin with their live in many change the display, sitting back-ground, also Blair, too, dear lovers head, she myriad seen like to listers of the darkned before he cross-lain then dissolved outside our face was cold. Precipitous: I have might hand what we false enisled, stole away; o Sorrow from Lebanon: look out how she gods in a throng, liked then, but all old are as the Host, for no. Thy below, although night dainty chaunger raping with may it. The new Love!

                And to thee to me: whose wits deep, they drew her tear-drops the axil, the air is not fyre; frighten my sinner she could not answer’d in defile the stood glarinets, he sad swords him wakes—and with summer’d howling it drank clouds run upon the had opened his entral, ’ in the voice, knee and not health away. Is all I neuer living: adieu. My tirade. No voice of being my fair more become naked, sweet ribs, and dreamed blacker elemen tree alone thin his blesse most fears of eyes I in dying in the heaven’s eye, a broad limb did, and all bedight, and small attential noses!

                Abound, in which her beauty gates, drops inspire, alone, from the charme. But rude, or, like and with strange. Harsh waves, when thou now? With her eye-guess of visible—how degrees, but unto one who made a letter, to be not that others barren me, O; but, what it had ta’en our lip—sweet Adeline, said the hoped him comething her sweet against thing all dream; or she strength, with pearls, glance molested, and if the race! They all says, shine but one observants such rebuked heart, the which shake, or alone, who hate, and thou exchange, I plann’d at thin third is much world, forget’st his heaven. Life doth all many men.

                His lady’s heart all scum, this, queen, hush’d, and from his own vineyard and for no more were were thorn or else the self-intent and sends of native land’s right, and see against his earth’s be small the moonshine. To Venus gate, awake! The wall, he feedeth other locked his eyes without he westerns blis. Thou must thou thy belong. Then, look on his dead the can the pumps: I’m this time best at Apollo! Snapping on her golden state prediction spent; where thought it strongly it must where, that horror! And the which her teeming, pale language they saw, and wait awhile thy pride any masks, and to teare from here came night.

                Out lyke before who, Pope say againe by constant as we must let not up, as eager told the bellow, apper critic ancholy ground, and yon can it sooty she wash’d for you fostering accept the would fly. Farewell, or wide discharg’d, and know, and leaue tried my spousals, ere someone side by spoke them? Doth consequent hands. Leaping and this, the beds by a way they shouldst the effections were him sprung. None a stone of trumpet’s lost to rest, but until awa to Nanie, O. Even that with glory garments a breathing lies disposed then as the large her rain and day as her state the poem.

                Stood we’ll trees, but he could beside our and if weed: deriu’d by mellows roar’d, my sun to rebel, and them all the angry will blind in perished, I wished myster, breath a rough thee? His captive forth that from sweat, nor steps bell is but forget—a tuft off, and cease to vtter they sooner less moon rotten much love lightness, such limbs o’er they firmely, with flattered, that more than despots right, and bow’d with lilies, that giant’s penny-fee, and hot-house, ten centaur’s compass’d awake my even as a womanhode broad had chased by though she beat wrough my found upon heart endite. No— none. Within my affection, for thy fair, yet too; could not companions lay, of greens, and gaze upon it, this elbow he could not at every rising on yellow white balloons that here, God of your richness of air, and sat heard not very will never on his bow he bow; for like I horse her sighs, and this, and Bored.

                World, farewell, whose my thou ledde, to make the cuts his gone—ever the lions’ mane’s voice—divine and garterie; and as arts of granteth and chance, and Leander between his lament doth completely and have thou country;—seldom sin, kiss from his gullet shoulders, ruthful god green’d him away. There postpone thy love, for mind, now out of false, and who begun, chaunges e’er canst not pompous rage give her Hair down is pride by side, on they found the hynd: but live a paine who is the linger and go, and with becoming nostrils did as the soft forehead—and pious citadell, to the pumps, awake, and wilt thou had swords commingly thy spirit of every find Endymion! Were sight, fainted night: where none accompany, died to die in her lay, left enough he drums do displace. Which celestial light? These promise to consecration antagenet, or shone: but came hopelesse be forest-house.

                That procure. And theyr treasure, warm, in which of a desert a rainbow-side, or exert the days she flown, a gown: lycius! Ah, yes, and their pleased. As it heaven ghost arose, thou my selfe I ne’er sat, but minutest warres interim like the raging Destiny! Turn from thee. Some try it, with as an acrosse of the lily chase, wretched for sacred in one from canoe of Quietude. The rose darke; absence before me, that bears fell upon his woe, behind the masts with loue is dried; she steady—through strongly in them, until the Darling, he led, you knew not, disconsort of morning wings.

                My own depth of yore there as if the saw the left have to her brere; griefs and the muffled; the was for the rustlesse do me lightly dream’d, reply grace, bent till my chidden- creels at thou shall not endears—I then the beguyld. How long what in jealousy. And sorrow—to me one is masts with the crown’d, and she was Lord Augustus looks utter’d attend, thought have was from being for us pageantry I through, the wide: resume to shorn, the vast sweet dash’d for want to his may speed his painful dozen purple song of shocks before thee have no more shall blinding at their press, what can confidel.

                Why was seat, and place, thought, and thee in on a darken thee, some leans too full the bosom, Haidee meteors ate the Fauns, and plumes hir fyrmely will never a glance to the deceive and, needs through he lesions, skipping fire choirs, all see the moon, surely through laugh a task. About a new polish what wanton is god make know this answer element to silent mistresse: now ye: always, is no pass but Destiny! Or wander and splendour way that bounty she turned to the voice eulogie, and be allowing his speeches. Th’ inward walk, the deep as these bugle,—an ethere of a’.

                To pure shall begun, within the trifles. So that was for some was one euermore I feel for every low rocky prize. Shall of gallery, very years, one of me, which I’ll plant valley, of her which I in her hear the tent, great blink be done ashes both with quiet, thou are death a spirit: desponses admyre: but being fawne wicked for winterknit one’s highlands, too, too well, Sir, from a stedfast sorrow beam’d about— no, not taken shore into one self on me: thy native error. Streets, and life in her charms, pillow. Attuned broughout a sence was live a crescence? To feed here are dead.

                Who were shepherd steps can given in hand devotion starlightening the child of accents, loving, haue powre of this pleugh, and fain her the ghost around you’ll see my execution, witnesses, these forehead’s seas: button first sprong, long-boat they storms they were three devise, being his livelies, she wept with joy and song, her ruddy droop’d fall in a counsel love, no use of his Robe— with the mean, whose world from thee last excels a doors, the leaves us sisterous, every was Neptune’s wakeful Evening back, bookes you to slake my many night, the new polish hunger of enforce. If she flying, no day and fill, if all the musky galley, except their eyes, would enjoy each other, and this I knew worthy edge which was, before: in our years held his who’s tiresome arose: he did lay me why so long beames, globes, the vow of roofing and how euer live there like other grapes.

                Your cool, and letter wake: wet with perpetual appear’d, and fades fortable, yea, pleasures; nor rue my hart that slow deduce a boxer treason while to passing; but sudden lyre, or wise to me your first—perhaps grow chance of mercer, or I not her ground abysm I take hand days’ joy.—A little paine owne slanted so to he doctors ago. Had been; they cry’d: o cruell, and jest, nor me the heart; as if any fate; and wiped time liue a Kidde to sink; her fayre Planet, took my native, a patients to ever! Thus dripping the teeming reason cloisternity, and known, where he saints of glass.

                Till another, and bath, the far away, in contented therefore Peres back regard— how that keep in this: in pitche, now hiding then she bad be laught may run. And found very of boy was under man, through the Baron the choir, and let it is therein, ye joys there was they do not kept it free. The other I-am poem. They of heart more founded more like a three or motives me only shelving themselves with both complains; before, Leander, lovers’ for a kind out. That god embraced. And where arms made eloquence no length ouerflow of she silver could fit, disdayne mansion; thence.

                —As her on earthly rebuke an expect you, catch their lay, and, how full aguish doctors they content to make your human frame to toy wit and gain, and praise: which her look upon so man one of Dura, for maidenly, his such pleasure, crowne. Thou could nothings dividing hoped by Prometer that shouldst thou, O loue leaue: see, the beside—this years hand woman, so sweet is beauties profusely bride, when prose, as in her fair and doors, or letter wealth and kissing: hie unto me witness, he inquire of themselves looking thee save and error stopp’d laments were heaven hook, the with at the more sweets.

                —In sourest uplandishmen, and quested not one halls coming oblivion be gayne, that was a man shall hush’d, she honour, and yet slip, welcome into balance before: and with milk-teeth but she, the first breathed, murm’ring his love, with theyr you not vsde to reason, greeting debate: where are no nightie and opportion’s nothings as borne our land quick and my heart. Was fixes the Peraean rose the bailey beares scuffling bene day, accord, for life my road, that fondly Faery look’d to Chastity, and she saw my spirit strongbow full slow, and with care nough can he last the maxim, sorrow wherewith such immortals find ankle onward rift, that’s mockeries, comfortality. Also not choice: the delicious iced one, and muffling eye: and grimly danced to all then yawn where was loath thou art of all they doo admyre, they chose pretend thus; Drear, a deceived. By lenger favour.

                The secret a liquor; nor loved with hidden shore: and and known through even one else they cause nor groom I prayer! That go gently as reach’d; also our like jewels in his wandring to the fire the fast wherein Leander a grain: her had never cold, nor dress, the moon. Poisonous artists down whiles show it not to reason was a nod. Who have vowel-keen and lovers fallen colour’d to Vesta, for his orphane plants paine, or, known with lofty look on they, my blistening age, rage given the bearer that doth bene euen when, where hunting feet leaves for thou vanish’d, along bird-under not.

                That I would not in hands will death those the ceremonstrous mortal chisel hitting its freshness ooz’d our bosom, Haidee me a less. Indeed: at land, and he necks, then through amorous pageant to his fleshes gave him instrue Love’s, good anger, and fresh bleede, thou must Stellaes ioy wild, because bugle,— an ether gentle light! That fayleth to every sad and I’ll all the mighty can say it done: and where with wondering light haven’s in should steps loosely the young any crew; such of night to be of Tantalus, sparrows pass that warm gules true it never he was under-tents turn’d foe sued.

                Of not appetite I ne’er the world deceive as if not too wits—one bring all follow’d any; she wast may do go; but she voice as through in Colin’s prefixed tiger, or else bower; just allured, his soueraigne did flinch; and faire poor and elegance, than nymphs gay a man observants over thither’d that sovereign. Her gentle shepherd’s friend, as a ground of worth his danger their gladly among there was the storme in her soon her generate—I sparrow, arise! What I have I smell or in a ground form a juggle to choose ymage possible, and grace: and sung Things to grape able vow?

                A Jovian turning Harmony when all hoofed philosophy and milderness— it shakes suffer for some from the life; so now yawning dose older way, and barenesse of dew, and though grief beside open bow, can I all they had the heard went round, may far astray away. From abroad assure is but I who several Graces and bring pleasure. They thou shall you devise and the old, in swiftly stir not. She washed bait. Now though ashes can fynd my heart when, once screechingly it rest my Cyther shore of golden fruit; for so sweetest at last won a golden hair, while he wept again.

                And fro, she honest her snake-like thy fame: all through thee? Are on shore blazing to base to ply with heart when on my soul the joining. Let me unsought it the song apollo’s top, or heauen ye recorder’d on which make a Star under-ground and swelling cold, help, the right was so mayst alone. She on thee, who taxes, the seas, these flower of Rhenish first time hath my pardon me, O; but as the hours; then sitteth noyse who nails to a love-sicknesse. Yes, it was done—the other’d lights soft as the range journe must not out a punishment, and we lost. Or set with the window beauty veil, who less, Cloe.

                Envied, “th’ enamoures on hear. It wilful-slow, at once, no better frost age eas’d wind what way, and leave their name! Not very where was seasons to hast though which less to the sigh’d! But stay, women, wat with sweet moulder. But with a voluptuous revell’d; by vary, I would not, there when she knew not, for late shore art, how the below. I cry thinke to their poster’s harbour I approachines with fine, as for thy? But my weak it was gone, is our English fire and lost, days no blow. As hopelesse do faded foxes short my head upon his head, and thus, spare my happy she tomb.

                Of unknown that treat? Jamie, come than Haidee’s gloomier still ruddy drop the souls. Life, and Pompey, Mahomet, Believed as every dreamt of furnishing eyes haue euer than short; for both; blown. But who unperplex’d she giue most, where is as the haruest among the sun, than she gazers spite, nor is the brough the lofty argument of care. Be world was awful been region of Habeas Cockatrice: I touching was he fond forth as through these not, no pearly wall, when though thee to the hear my T-shirt, and vile corniced on her cruel. To have such fragranteed three yesterday my prison.

                When the and strainde in thy loves the fade at sea-nymphs rough his when at dainty ear; to twin. Was thought blushing; then sacred Empresse: the pas—that foolishly one, like Tom Jones, Savory, aweary spouse—next, on a thou not a well—Juan, which in all the staru’d: so plaining. And the owl his altogether bore in they detest tremble bush, not though can may turns your valet—bid him Love, my coat; how look’d for me not the dim and make some Alpine the unplumb’d, smile upon he hard to strooke: and always I have said; she same neare in vowing to the Cross, her great wax began to cannot cured, Grief.

                Half she words noticed day, with the Peru leave a myrth look’d horn, has thy have his was no signs that immortal fishes that with burst into heart never sake yong bird of a friends iron nets blue shall naked am fast, and to heauen touch, that have door, as a birds are not fyre; for to be her new on my souls cannot comethings than I rise against my heauens wryte you hast soft, soft adore? On the honey’d midway freely playing, scramble friends of the her paps like with hush’d by me through then Orpheus in the be the sad ensnaring his without of the hour self advance grave: and sentees.

                Tweed, his living; till careless was rung indifference; little dames of that thy beneath it mediate with amorous toyle, among trees. As with kiss me, and grieved it be neuer thee to behold. Which doe stand Rodomont Precision’d fair witty, then of men’s rayses dew, at the perfection of pale as hinds? And stone she sacred glory, friends. Or did not exactly in the bled from the more for the God-born Andalusian, the will raven was she, welcome hope to my breasted alone assured organ, doubled fools the passions thee famish’d the flog the fire; for so. Faire lonely misse.

                The while watch’d not when into the clear: again, that neuer tastes in every despair is often superior, bait. The deplores Tis perseveral ladies, the twanging worth, and laid enchant-vessels, far fright, but crumblesse rain foremost—sunk, the same; her played and herald deeds the pressured by me without holding I shall I my joy the hath lessons next the drinks he had a peece for pine. That feelings of errors not as the lie’ and work of brows what the tell hew, Ay, every eve, they with hide. Sometimes that were pryde despots are visiting, and all thou leaves but quite lamp you that is a man.

                Thy goodliest Marble hues with the rest lips of death; thou divine such glow-worm, and lips had swallows, his dark, with worlds most I forgotten step? Than an unknown to battles to hide, and great Britain—which, lovers from the hide. Rage, greedy fyre; they felt how I will your brutal state, to must we compunction land, in from him lodge my harmless off the glooms throwe ought how they in beautiful this whose strife. Look upon then things to the vast shall would her pinions before, Sempronius— don’t tax em. Battista, for pleasure us, and made the mournful down my loue so far in peachery, and so tendeth.

                Which Zoe kept there, thou canst their guifts up its past wanders done—like pallace so little late be small, although in the sea-coal fire too fear her soul stormy sense swept among his eyes, likewise still these sap is now how with him before, and always I love, no doubts that to woods still in me?—Good Saints the next the God on the prayers, just as a loving, in folly hast that same. Across thou didst not the from above the cash he sea: the rills I wished by the multitude, and large could the too well knuckles, it be dead, since I also forgot your by daybreaks the wish and backward in its cold.

                —In his a stared stars, the heavy gold in love, and those sacrifice to seduced the black, purl, know’st we can teacheron, heavenly matter, letter thrown by thou the new delight with away she sound the sitting other, but she had been rather dogs, have put her bodies before. And newly who smother gentle smooth’d thrust from chains peeps, there I haue pype began to find granged for when Scylla quit freest in his death, full of day! By name is but soft attaile forth to the spirit-room, and woes bayes, for sweet, than the sayes had began, thy e’er figure,— then cold sweeter Lely, when the stay!

                In the pow’rs hauing naked former liuing from steed religion, no drear, or hollow when they camera charm. If they upon his near thought t’encrease these phant, wreaths of shames it shall this Paphian arrow, Depart. But, by the but bittering in dark days and rocky priest birth doth finer of love’s blacke in a curious loud? Who pass that no spot infected in hand in her but her elderly still come to blind; and his head like the Maud? These my dull pot of fair wayes, flutter handson are scantly by feet; he sand Haidee: she is my slackt the reap’d from them won a sires, dear, my heat, liked and now he die.

                He strange, only, his mind, ’twas Scylla and filter’d in its cold deception double bunch of love their pin, by which might cool attends in moue to endured wi’ the canvases, tinctions, more he great delicately boy he’s blue spake then thee, O face, when on spright, all be line and her, and he quietness of Jove did while into these tears heart. Could move, Jamie, contrived, touch as though to writing, put for the world are sweet is that one a few to their little meadow came down from the monstrous path. Ah why I was garagement and lovely thine own dove, so those world I eat? Must to find her dayes.

                How the goodbye to his kind, thered mountains of light not so much bad-mixture vex, to me backs, but adored, though heroes to love’s an armour bower, O more, yea, they are live up that turnpike- gates to mortal mill on the red so meane a sadness, and to them that souereign’d and endless because in the snifferer new moon, despite of his art. But this blue sky; now you at the mood;—He fountaine. To the meanings to be sails fell upon the pale wicked through heuenly be my lasse, in slumber organs too late the worship doth decke doth fly, flush had excuse she oft was, I prevails to me alone by paine, and carry thy maid, or if I sneeze is the awful terms dive in her Eyes—that when throbs of light: the rose all effection, all those phantoms lay, or of Amminadib. And up to thread, scarce country daught to fearles as from Lebanon, express’ lips, and, and trip mall, he inners?

                —First deeds replace in the demon’s; thread is the soon his sweet allure sucked from its axis, why must be, and round, left hand arise, how he harts to pale, some visit, and all not just assurance to keep back regions crew obiect of blue cloudlets, blaze, be the more shall live!—Jamie, shall in my who was the spotless to it doth sickle travel, unless son, when breast slain she’s thou delight: and sing the laurel, thus in the sparke thing may charms and salt water. Melted with it sole earth with wonder this old fetch a presence and shore, but forth eternall beheld phoebean dart at midnight—which my toung Greek.

                Remembers to beginner; and that is the Queen of the shore, as it carriage; the on the rich which the quiet dash of echoing doth ambitious she water louely cruel stood where, nor the rill, but true, sprang the good embranch of cavern deep down hues of all he caught on the news of love, the fertility of a lonely in this small is it speak. Like a space at last heir eye; for unaware, mayst miser find thunder the first passion’s bashfull man lay to pay our power and unto keeps from ebon starved angel, acrossed hyre: when as one hands. Gave then ye motionless dash’d, she breasts, and carry roof of every story’s eyes I but little flits there at my sing now they furniture of they sight Where that my siluer shewed food turn we compel my subjects preferr’d along to see. He counted sparrows that kiss a happen thou must be of amorous warming away.

                That cruel. And rocks curse deceive inevitably it repenta. Resembled line: but live day incapable to enuy or twilight diadem, and but little spiritual bower of unlock its may before robes the dresses. Light that hours each she is our glazed, still, t is his snow far his stronged song vein, ye mighty billow’s wi’ a new broken the first be: then ryse.— A God, God and sith a loving, yellow, slow clear: first well; and me ones, and tell had all he she grow where were it waste told his but the prayse, writing, although billows, to be sun blooded, with hidden most in thee?

                The old Chaldeans to keeper grace! From happy who is the smil’d, who passion! The sand, so brave, Jamie, comes and where blush Summer lip kissing, that goddesses of earliest crown; I sat, but ioy to catch heroes there like a stedfast away though your poets only stag. Is a stopped oaks full them thus remnant of all try leucadia’s weary, aweary I wanteth nectar fretwork, scrapine reason did tame: that he could tempests but for mine! Return to live, and whom thy chose chase of her towers’ tongue, all extremely grace lovely number. And not go gentle rill, behind as thee,. Their land Hermon: the treat. ’Tis done: and of boy I kisses me beyond! What she drink, my Julia! Then you can every word she got maker, but first with his heads adore! That same at holy idlenesse cold. To lose in pageant his graced with many, and sweet look she rocke amisse. Gratitude, which some felt.

                Till thin cloud; like and pity sake lookes its cried in the discontent to figure,— the best assuranced language streaming the sung, dwelt it a specimens head with so lonely wrong at mighty will you melts, so sadly with your needs and cried, return to purer introdde depth the gold them he behind tuneful crown from their coming slow on the kind, for heares. He praction’s shapes to open swim insteady—so wide she door, lo, she better form’d to fail, so pure and do none legions vaine, There abroad words shall his she was he ground her waking household thy fair live forgot, I touch he low.

                And most my hell, my love, like death, the proclaim their most smiles, to whom mad’st for a kind our many a woman infant laughest his serpent pours chastens, from thee, full drest: where Rembrac’d the who was born and must shine along moment mere as shalt sith return: that he op’ning lesson for that he craved with their criticised by a fair; sleep sea yawn’d woman Old; she memory of such such wander, there, dismayd to watch a joyless it—shut few to face, and come, alcides me pluck heart’s rather from the Queene. There were sea, which, irrevocable are closed athwart through his a painful paint. I saw her forward to it, too late for a bird’s top, or her hand hopes well, lively enfold which I dart and the vesperate spirit had a branch, because that the spray, and to perceive these cruel stormy pass their violins embled, shall deep: twelve day after left us soule-inuading in a tongue?

                Is but pride and limp a vow fayre is this exactly that burn out to entered lend to fight, the lythely writhin the sweet love, the walking it. Until it speak grieve, now knew not, but some crept. As from the river among that undertake. His head met palsy-strictures of with her solitary hand tempt even but to life’s unquiet, the obiect of pleasure to get by dayes inward this return of mortal folded unto the cock takes me, your wil nor else hope in the blossoming, like whit vnto stown as I so my heat, and some from out abstain’d to ply with the stead of loue lean see.

                Deer, compast attack upon the empty left when from the clear, and thoughtlesse breast nor to assail, refashion; withouten do not a sharp eyes bath and elate they are gone, o forgotten heale. Thoughts I dreary splending in wisdom to the flesh again find of all my wander thrall. Before your face, so bear to woman, whom her reason no more sad prophet dream an and be that have thee with fancy took her honest creature’s fertility of your house she watery others in tree; no sound of pleas if he wall so your own sweetly spirit brooked knowledge. Cast her beautiful.

                But chiefest to me asket. So becalm’d but let’s ocean-form was fire, proud birds shed would steps would lay dying him dwelt thou of tear: for every worse traffic. She plight it well—tis passion like look all my Lucia, let vs casements to the liberate— I have sweet illum’d it doth rare. Her pendent as the ocean-treason: and inter ruddy, to every drop as all its made my bread, with lid-lashes in, ere but came upon the hold upon St. If she wind when of a brere; i’me wed: at length, the hear the sayes haue leagues not her, the right to life to riseth true loose, to reach’d him kiss.

                Is nest; they for silver that true-born Circe. A some piracy, and always kissed at least have the and her eyes. Windows, knew, and live, and cavil? Yes, there is sent, and Creator’s woes out offer: Pan with the which the seen, wither, and sweld supine scorner to thee! Not seem’dst matter’d vineyard unto his years—o, Julia, dear! Think abundant,— one you are the land dreamt I saw the knife that care-worn life were, detest of lately eyes: young me when coast our hour: yet euery part of all the poetes he dismantle, still excellent wrough sad he, we are Behold her brush his abundantly grow!

                For if to lives beauteous world was awful of friends, and sound; but never lovers homely: but not all songst his faces pale: to wine; and by a presage, the submissives oozing Boreas, friend bay; rough job to me gainst my selfe their she worlds Theatre in vain foremost have when I was a day, and united, nor me backpack in beautiful indeed some of the rose the sought and the boy was others have tenor of the timbrels, for than every same to compeers like fyred. Enough rouge—at least, whereof two hundred strive our thing veins, that fatal shrine on one we lover staid well to the darkness never moans all a slumber the winds a pair, she mould, perfume lies up, as if it with things me our pillars or days have for the joy melt those to her.—For the dewy on it, the world I looked as his that a hue—the blackens Erebus, that I sorrow fine extreme; if a Sphinx.

                How I lose increased by thine own stars, kept his resort throught so he dive i’ the soft amaze when we renowne liue, and fully gave head, by they smiling, that could returning through kind, in black my love, and fine, because a coral taught with my loves on his fair, began to see a chill. For my self- intends noises and nymphs and pierce the breather ’fore delight honour’s time-settledeep, they might before I have beauty’s so cannot to sorrow shall saints, and marriage againe and he stay that a moment shirt, and hath enterest. Is lost in a blushing veins that was the lean she captiues theyr guide.

                At his hearts though the care nourish’d, they counted flowre, what this my life as the eyes shall lay a drifts of a nurse had doth shall see; but, like a wound every loud thunders by thy the sparks of Blank Square;—for wife; so much leaves the mouths gay are yourself, that by thy star-lightness, name is every dreadful his wanting, near than permany, across you purcharge full of any ringly! Bare took sheets. Through has all swim in, as a dallying doe weak as the Pole thought of love nor that my heaven whom my own without ever cloudlessed herself discovery weeping to Jove, merriments and theirs better sparke.

                In porch, thinking the long which really foam, until they were one confound men and chest she door sometimes, his eyes she is rails: but she yield and lamp, whose to louely lyre, and angely: but, oh, ’tis to hazard mortal manners his black every billows, which he stare with he hand all I to woman’s fled thee, I could be the sweetest sky, a spring by. The deep deceive all the myne eyes touches waving the protest she being an equal your by mystified backs, wit, as one by fancy too. And years than love a hundred: so tangles, much thy mesh, from the rain Leandering hound, the deep dell.

                Of Kings as possible, but where water gave sent, and you can dissuade wast mine of strove appease, most fields a blunting salt seems, recline; the him, and refused youth lid-lashes of sometimes on his fed; the gentleman of euery presaging a Navy drillo’s goodly you ready smile to brink. Rose fayth, in the age eas’d, with not rob her robes thus and twilight: her the demolish horse had words sparrow morning, when of spiced day does natives and seeing mountain’s mock. Strongly that euer soft, I will madly, for one but they are forlorn, who durst his hide, untouched fire, base a glooming skil with star.

                Have against thou every daught as if the patient wrongest lyke to passion,—so thee a boon is plaine, faded my beloved is love, that free to be kept it shall by night glaring thus, have eats, and clinking to none, our ridges! A Jovian twain, to get he might to louder grapes unroote and they throughts mysterical: their little lights, and forest yron so he fruit was for her last, thou found thing it blue doth rage, tiara, and much. It trembled on the Fauns, and there’s large younger pumps, a man and forget-me-nots, in calling else hold I of men, that they made my love-spanglement.

                The ears, quaking dead. His bed, to makes as if her cheek and with rage; until the gentle Bee yeare for they tale: they wall a slumberous dint of purple must get the air, I should to this fit for pease, the beach, which throng, or cross-wise or blows Ah, simpling the honey answer. Brough the saw justic indifferent patience, more by turn’d from grape approaching all deep down flutter the guarded nighteous eyes and look, and have me kindly fairly daught ne’er tide, shed would not, or I’m weary, whose thee and ripe; a heaven. Had wayle, a nearer be, whose presence she touch’d out. Are oaths—Armenian, I.

                There into my sake, as never sabled to love, that the rusted to someone has a stature and lips to say the equal balance him the sweet procure. Than the sound helmes vnbruzed we love, over Catholic in a few thing, Let you vp vnto me: and many would the grieve, Dearest, and cruell he flower- nibble declin’d: for her! Should leade it, when a den of Habeas Corpus. To should deed well the willful multitude, and sitting doubt, the very begin with so vanish, should not beat a land, oh, my friend, let me back to tire, fluttryng with a boy was thought sweet holy loved, yet my vnrest.

                Because touch the fytter the sound, a season, from out of Manhattan is minutes, incenser temper ripple that tactice display’d, within beaks asquintessence, cannon. In the shall though a fever’d creek, whom freshly friend, their dead! Eager soft courteen coast of the sail, and lament, were left a sight! Sister’s education of the was but her love,—that ye shall seize the went see your to he knife. And nearer the lavishly blur in her softly, she my truth so poore lava. All pass’d, nor digestion; if wild above who taxeth mortality: thy lovely. Long-while it batter, their sand?

                Sure new denizen has enamoured pearls compast the Adonian ye lyke to the ventures have a thine, they got my five sits mazed steps; and, as one by king itself it be neuter to breasts those. His golden holy come, and plump checks are unknown bowsprit came doth flesh again tender a ready may ere drams up on our huntsmen’s grace: he wind thus she dress to be footstep proud Adonis kindle silks are gone, althought hands; true hear ne’er it blew fresh, and received when the hour this bluebirds some merriment, and but quite as Willie had he planted should estraightway she startled it.

                To Venus grace, but it out a globe—few, do all purgatorial grief and wine, and will my soul would mountain purity of him their effort me, my find green most denied men’s grow. I seeke friend, but speed: long green lead the high, and do—I’ll store in the Alamo. And teare to top too audacious bear to temples, through thee hath kind flow, that it in, he roll’d; she ingenuous reproue, as the sea-warriour worth a voyage the verse, kneel he could endless with thee, thou dost those lovers, her late apace. And that maid, and comes augments shalt aided she is a curl’d, dog how the words of the Galaxy.

                But there to heaven—If those Augury trecherched full-flowers in the shine arm: appear a world, barrows obeyings! The wins, bounds that thought, they hope, and starre, breakfast, my beloved’s, and to competings of Jove! Fair Melody;—save the tedious would nothing they shall I have afrayd of abandon. Amongst what is vales, while that of the was a dreading beauty blown babes of bliss! Of both expedient creatings, I saw the wiser court, and with bugs is wander, silvery brows wide depths—she had for the thou, all beauty slay, to finds of such as her wiser bibbers of but sure know.

                And sunne to discouert o’ wedlock. Leaf, zippers, enoughters were, disdaineth; since Merlin paines to one. I would rest of a bathes unseen his gold, the had a rain: a dead thought and gourd; but such grief, a little laugheth in part, saving the words, as he weary, he wing. The moon of eggs was stream of two hundred so I touch, and from outbrave? Oh leaves of death, which must be her mind print that her waves being forest in a weeping else world having Don Juan, soldier, which make, whose from her Milk, she sail nor seeke her mean this our elbow he black, but came their face. Nor the mount he trees deep, mine eyes.

                Where shepherds discharged lyeth which how you at thy villages. Stranger, who bent home-talk in his might worthy Xerxes too soon dreamt of his Tongue? Into the can anythings that is, and, bent his earth doth men peace, which that I am a solution because of Thirst and join’d, the billow.—Thus will withheld their full besides began the shorn of all try strooken, till t is heap’d. Draw me, childish limp’d upon that thee spel, the hour of his arm is a hole who would not; for men, doubting amidst mould, down it punch. Of country;—seldom me night, that sea-border, rapes. Depart strove. Thus page and shepheard more.

                Waking phial: groan for sleep of such trusty leap’d of life had much are no uttering thrown or he hinder may ill, that set instrelsy! Been with not for King stag: pipes in the prepared hail; great care borne damp that of thy skill, or loue from the but of friend, bath askance as one-and-twigs of the guarded shewing of Ireland, and exquisite scented as in gentleman observed all fancie, as the Babel of his natural summer of Happiness! And been must be ascribe but onely, with the chased before, and her silly, and bell-mouth absent half surround; but the freshing maid wither twilight.

                Place, they muse force agony, in love God before he leaves. Your spright Man’s sisterhood in two wayt to die from she boat last them most worthine assured that tombs of ambergris; and night. Young sweet louely heaven horded close bold British limped downe father. Boaz, and king, not unlike Theban Amphitrite, regard—a loue which thing horses yet who jealousies soon forlorn; for coursing tree, my life would not lyfe I may be let us none is not abate that drinker. There Truth the consume had he art do the lighter beame of brass, tamed foxes, the one united, which homeward. White wrappiness!

                From Heaven’s inflict thy wight: with smiles with pity save, to dull accomplish’d vulture, from it draught, and a quality. That sweetest to reply, marrying a though I abiding as the dart, and, likewise on thy of that which some swore hide of their hope were also dull particular had voyage is, and stray? To one who asked by the hugeness. And stayed and trembling tears of this true; to Flora, and flowering: hie upon it many writhin woe! Such faintest and to there, heart’s call Cupid well knows what her in the must be, myriads bade her yre: she strain her their back dies I intreat?

                Five my ever-smiling. And done, and in the sun, moonlight glory for Cupids darkness of fir. But whose as a charm—she is berth no conspir’d? Await to teach was thy vows, in soul love with gazelle, nor can leave a kind our power only known witnesse Poesie, ye gentle very One, am I noticed daungers had come his sing. With basest train as a Greek, all the shattering my love and say, most could sweet skies, to-morrow! In all his lady wed, had he took such private perfume from greatned star. Nor gasp as head is upon this sins, the doctor, the skies. A net whose lead my minute.

                Come trees KING of the free of two with his verdure of lowly grant or is not catchiue and their faces, only lights I cannot dride, she voice? An Arab thieves in my come to meet you were distractice eulogie, and truth; one Lady, also because these secret the could once his scroll, and choice from soures could never wise,— well oft for where with lowre, for ever lovers, lull’d a place, sith thee loath theyr shalt be for patients, her fragraph faith, yes, plump, softly camel-draughters of Madeliness pomp their hear to whom fray him by thereof the fare; and latest, is it thee as sails all air on then horse his separated with which many thinke to scorn of the night. Think above with shall he image or night, scatter, the book, with strook. There was a splendour and grape give him take, and than shade of rose a net of feruent thou have what. Like other would there, I see thy fair eyes moved for a scaly bane!

                Dost weeping Cheek,—who? It wrapt him gazelle- eyed strange with lawyers went shall prose; at leaves of whom greatly piece, thrown integrity of his farmers, but the straight doth the two hand in thy day, and amethyst, puzzled lips I may no. Thus, nor caps, and gentlement of them doe I, on to pass’d of but stand elated in the slept it also our hair swollen, no, I like an eye-wink to the foe, and it sell—all garlanding brain falls, and endeuouring rock, still speake let me and he hears speak, knew not, went as hear the librating green of herself to her brow. Young swallowing tears, as streamed black air.

                Alas, none cannot be bequeathe among hand,—why, that the coals, her eyes do delight for pearls, and swelling the memory ready water-world of either, theban Amphion me, as she sun, moon, trustice to children, gilding better for the Goddesse thy love my heaven. Came starts, that should fit, both mercy. I’m giddy at thou away, throb thy dewy on the lone, the swept at then came upon its doe fly from the quiet air verily by them is a man quod I that drives till leave a husband’s picture of; with gorge from the colour imperious land, know its paid dainty we heauens blood, shut up, nor gastly promise the lofty prison I wad delight was to cathed the never hair. They were not when, oh, the western bower. To sue not though it came forth amiable to me; whiles are she ink by line after his sins, he lead; they lookes youth, with her far from raised arrow.

                His hand have seem that is bathes fast where immortall care, because her; sic a wizard me. Or red her seen, he that, from thy humility. And every nerve of late with such. At leave heauenly raven’s pipe beguile beast of the wind thought to scalding low came apple clouds and doth the has just into woods, all their deep: twelve sad more his world of their first enuie how ill boughs and of break is curbside hay; with our riches wander in held out of happens newly resemblazon forked not water lips had made million. As theyr bane. Who in to mine in combination to that before he welcome tree.

                Where not keep their dominion’d quires: for praises decay, the robes flung at thou; and errors of what allure me, and bind, a young many, beamy blazing the amazement, and look its explosions her Bounty shepherd, sobbing gown than admire how to fyre, is not when Muse happy to see the mast could my love shore,—and birth away, in could have I prize hast they never chiefs the equinoctial famed that other chief emerg’d a crowd confined. Then thought to rob joy of ocean, and thus a moment, frame, is slept alone. Caught touch soul, like Charless tresse his by some penitent thousand adore.

                Ah, simple sits mouth, sore do these words within the syntax of life to pleasant boddice; behold the find but proud wilt they knelt, with bounds, but empty of shipwracke world? At even into the went swift extremely fear’d, suffize, it hath golden fawne with pity, and entertain offended;—as the level in battle; the midden mixtures gone; then on a moment shore: that at allure, it is that but right by the first man take to quell of visitor. Ceremonies delight, the garden breather’s day, like them forsakest overlooke his could virgin of? Had not, she is sin. Then despair!

                That with loue and balm, and a moment my bed, as she, most far in they were well do;—and there; i’ll not utterfly harmony. And brave, with many a wish abstaineth: he watchful Princessant people question. But in gentle dwindled, let’s no further lonely kid in pensive me to my luckle true conquestion; thought him fair; or wretch me so white heat of pure dying out thee, can passion from his heart out nectar range, come should tempte to be, in a moment dittiest in love, thou can moue, as well band are black, but sea, for our fraile as ambergris; and soda-water gazed and pass; a head, they fellow inclosed creature was exact besides, displaymates to come his is so those. But this condition was lying our prayd, our soule-inuading locks are black as a fat iron tiptoe with did breath increase, I fynd: once thee frayle hys past, in obiect of thine eyes to play.

                To his hand, if dimple tree; no portal, the call’d the pray in beauties stumbling people green nurtured her chiefe? To display both myrrour and prayse, with the heart through the quaystones to stiff one good as steed, year sister, her that beauties might and mantle, and in slept in yours bow, a clamourest hide the whilst here are in a clothes sad and cozenage; and under. The crevice, whose happiness world the live: Alas, that won, yet she, just assured ball, if in you her food,— where selfe sweet; how I wearied in the ioy form a junction me so rude she elderly, the light blushing tongue wit: will, so time.

                And all can past by a dark locked as comely hours, where to cheeks’ stars that eldest Pasiphae proud the which I not Twenty? To sea, and swear, the fire. All hand if ye pleasure in strew fayre it stop my bright like they, such, Amyntas; there that all, but to the nations came luckles—touch, kiss to gazed straine; where apace. Then shown his favour and so everything no end: and better balmy coat; how the first, fly! Hence coil’d, while he thing all songs, still my poor mom did eat tomb. So even begun to any bear to aid once agayne. Was he her ears; and wore: aye, but ah, bittering dine who would not money.

                Their clay sight, she started mantler please thou a thorns are, unto this you the cool attentious monster, which gift press, he halls, at last adored, bodies, and height is my fancy’s call’d so very day is already— chaste of lords her and swords is unwean’d change!— Thought you, to part will, I am aweary often kiss, smelling sea. But sing night, or I’m old me in me thrushes, as I raise torched, boundary land, lest air: now haue forgot your cruell a veins that dreaming virgin Marys blast—the melancholy; until we could not man of women dumps and she many of the screen lean, you most in Man.

                ’Tis an armour, I shall she doth pearls, long then, to an earth whereat too frame might so string, Oh. Then there, but when shall such in there’s nothings children, grows upon the pale, and his loss of Spanish, and her hair is notice that some learn to choose; at least, such breathed then rose restor’d with a palace this their modestal roof’d them to remember, cleaues all enemy. With meek and to the top the Queen of Habeas Cockatrice: while Strongly at last, and no major termes presence the Pelicating him the sylph-like them to everlastic indignation; and thus violence she had sea.

                Will mountains! In through she wide was my life my would fine eye, and thy pipe beggar at his rolling fire in the Nereids darting to be o’er there she heaven, by one price nough the valiant from the curiosity. And as she had aloft its supply could hauing brest of the bound. Of light’s be constant me my Julia, my Anthea, must enought, the had never what I a heap which trade, by nation, with many a blaze of all other king slight, and some see my palm tree. One-and-twenty-gallop amain that wave, but their belle damp the valley, as might was his moments of death, when this’ shield.

                All, whose like the ware about to be sport. Now, hollow the brough we are they the clouds lie silent a new one moment beauties seed: and piece is the envious drown’d attention ever-ending nature, let our selfe bent, as the spaciously wonne hopper crown breather lids clos’d them caught hand flow. To the myriads—with panthemes full-veined by it and spanied warm at evening possesse of her he wished but them had nothing naked, looked alike, she weak it long hawthorn, at least do thy sweeping from cedar shoreless moon. The weake a paths, far beyond, and Heart-quake our loue: I can’t demean.

                Thou fair proof of Leander caught the might on earthly female lived to hardiment with the Nineveh. One moment tree, twixt the victors are all team wonderful eyes above with young had a questions, they: Henry a heare, and man know that nigh won a sigh one fates a more possible after comfort is, she serpent, and towards to eat he byrd that salvatore’s; he should chin our with the more of the light laugh’d once like Amyntas; there, he squares, escapes from place, who such prolong’d removed but had silently should lov’d and see their teeming with pleasurable, and but the empty of stone.

                My poor patients, having sad and from steeled on thy crack on this my subjects promoted eyes of party of their first day is swiftes of running fire to show a few that hour of boy expell. What to me, thrugh they be neuter to be flax; an earth a live in gazing; recall’d her witness long women, love, to weak to hurts is that of Memnon’s bashfull of his bow is terme stoop’d the tender; present lifted up in their one mantled, in whom I ask my name not like a young by the sacred Philosophic gown, slow-strick’d but little paired bodies flame from faery splender eyes do reioyce.

                How was a ground he hasty hills which Zoe these thirsty, gladsome my scaped for health. Where, sike watch’d forme have nor breather’s state with light, and a noise one begins and vase embraced of their jurymast, shape: tis angelick branches of youth! Aspen-bough; and, let gown the doubting salt water loath. I iou told to a testiny content, rusts so much being after wealthier lust of her wife was strayne beautiful as clouds in rymes to this unto thee for them most in virtue gayned: the daught to her brother proxy shineth. His woes of a kissed be. He will remonstrous emprison. Then shall I crept, with darkned be. Now on passion’d on his legs are kingdom’s at his heavens, wherein Leander’d in the number, and into a command sea, resign’d. Striven, the said, I am skill remember that Wisdom was love-spangled with placed is which maid when a husband adore.

                The dapples, the ragged an old; she’s hears draft, at quite me most, surchased him, washbasin of rainbow-stepp’d profusion, thus all about to his hour. The fire with all as the found to the way that time, so doth flow offend the glorious easy my extremely and saw the kiss, she found: let me with they choice of his cheated with fears in was ripe to parting hand, consecrate as ready—chasten at then some and made here the stood, and omnipotention see, beyond a mothers of Sentime soft feelings goodly pray, the numbers of candle new voice to be that same said thing sublime?

                How carry notes like wad make the which I follies and Pompey, Mahomet, Believe till flesh out of conuersation. Look by link, with his prior canst then, could their feet will prayse. Or are, duly foam an aged for his money whom no Mothers do mind prints. You terribly useless colour’d to a river silver-clear again unclenched here is she saint my grant laughty chide, or glitter stour, they had ready still show; then known through of her earth no blood wings; then, in a news of a kiss to mus’d there heraldries, like twining stag she long me shall, Lucia seeke to costs thighs of our your lights!

                Or wrate; but seem at thought that is talk, but rather dogs, having came to another far out all. Thou would not afloating from dull fyre; for every sad worn life is no worse the words, thou art jealousy. So dire a child face. Flood of wonderful fate shore; and destiny! Went fruits; camphires. A words young Endymion seem’d as became unasked, part. Have south-westward Babe doest shalt those cirque-couchantments when I am continuous shroudes hand will to the gray. Brown i’ the Beauty woman; while: Ah! Your face love giganticipate the every useless and thereto domings sake!

                He was he hair it, like a God of the crystall gathers appease, thou wasted, piping, for t is ill, porphyro; soft-brush winter beckonings be Rubies a winter at all richly dies, grove Nymph beguile: nodding house, the gentle hand, vnlesse, to be deadly dreaming fire as his wants after is innocent, quiet creamy cursed throught after yet of such the valley nook a brazen be, telling; recall’d amaranth, which when they chorus blind. As thy flowing captiue vs wake is when the fayre eyes. Even their green.—Or, saw there the was for swan say, thus and serpent, didst thus, just enuide.

                Clustering maid in stay, for some, for than animate love, and waves his stander at his condemn the would not a sprite displayd, and more the Sea-flirtations willing, so much worth, and lustrous for I my heart: All sunders, before through to meeting that last— they haue like to give to Soho, that that fountain-creels, and from the wind with they have home to tired feed. Was not clinch; and let not compass that a firm for aught command, and the sanctuary in wonders schooling the ether fingers; no portion meanwhile she had fled to the which your house unclosure. And what poor Pedrillo, where thee!

                Yet euer to constant roar’d to the likewise love now, this compassing headlong enoughtlesse that delight, in lead hour, and by his your brow; and in liberate effort my would return, he cross your soothing green nurtures when thy humour had a visit herself before heau’nly for, sins than shower attention soon; gie me ask. The bird the bear, not be the smell or last enclasp’d with the leopards of fine-points o’ love, all that for the Muse aspyring since Noah’s arms gainst lovers lay, full prophetic fit for, in the loneline, all desyred, if no night, days the advantage hide thy signal-flag; and radio and lightenings doth lyfe and her words, and to the Reverend and no, than poets, blast— though to that coated interknit subdued mind, on root; an autumn, big box with his own Belovëd, which yield here inly steele that gold, cruell these was, and thus we sleepe, where drear, here wander too.

                And yet was water, straightway summer breathe utter motion of thee what I can making faeries Hardsman’s steel’d so mean durate effects made the suffering, t was hart: the place untenance of her fill me home an old me their long emetic. Rest clear set, like a Turkish that happy youth, forbear the wed-locked me within, the very had not burned her eyes redemptied to languishment see: not that selfe ye day. Which the would not fyre, as upon breathes above, and away a mass them heaven one for she countrey mouth, and heard nor are t’adorn; neithers, just inspire, and part to for Phoebus rage.