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#but ruby is so fleshed out and nuanced and they LET her be to the point that a good amount of people prefer this or like this as much as the

yukinojou · 2 years

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The Sandman on Netflix - first impressions

Okay, not so much first impressions as "I mainlined the lot in 26 hours and it only took so long because I was stuck at work for the first 7 watching on my breaks and then had to actually break for sleep". Spoiler-free above the cut, spoilery below it, criticisms at the end.

Caveat: I've been a Sandman fan for 22 years. I first read the books in a big bookshop, doing the surreptitious reading at the bookshelf for two weeks in snatches, because I was in London with very little money and graphic novels were very expensive. It took me five years to buy the lot, and it was only then that I found out how the story ended because I didn't manage to get that far in those two weeks. The Sandman was absolutely foundational for my philosophy, aesthetic, and dear gods Desire was a revelation - "You mean you can be both???" I never liked Preludes & Nocturnes' horror bend, so it's my least-reread volume, but Doll's House is my second favourite after Season of Mists. I've read all the Gaiman-penned addenda and most of the first run of The Dreaming. BIG Sandman fan.

And the show blew me out of the water:

Perfect cast is perfect. I had a lot of reservations because of the announced ones, only Kirby Howell-Baptiste, Mason Alexander Park and Gwendoline Christie immediately seemed right for their parts. But somehow they've dug up Exactly The Right People and let them play it with a richness of nuance that is so rarely allowed in American drama.

The pacing. The show breathes! There are quiet moments, there are very few action sequences, and the big plot moments are people talking. Let the words tell the story, let the actors act, let the scenery breathe and shine.

The filmography is quietly lovely. It starts "typical BBC Period Drama" but veers so soon into the just-off, just-bizarre. All the taxidermy at Fawney Rigg, the richness of every set (messy rooms!), the texture of everything. And even when it's not recreating the panels one by one (which, closest adaptation of a comic I've ever seen), it's shot in such a graphical way, drawing the eyes to the action with the composition, especially in the first episode. Much appreciation for clear vivid lighting in such a dark show too, I didn't have a single moment when I didn't know what was going on. And the colours in the second half are so bright, a very glam lighting that disappears for mists and shadows as the spell breaks.

I saw someone on Tumblr mention this is a bit like Sandman fanfic, that sensibility of fleshing out motivations and behind the scenes actions. And it is, and it works, plus it tightens plotlines in a way that hopefully makes sense to people watching for the first time. Which I'm very much not, as someone who can quote whole pages.

The rewrites are - the first word that comes to mind is Kind. Neil's a more mature writer now, not a shock jock in his twenties, there's no template of gritty 80s comics he has to adhere to in order to get the show to our screens. In the comic, the kindness only really arrived with Death in issue 6. Here, the tweaks let it be present from the beginning. And all the nuance and richness - you can see where he took characters that were flat stereotypes and then jiggled them until layers spread out. More about that below, in the spoilers...

Spoilery plot bits:

I actually love Ethel the most of the changes? She's such a pistol and a conwoman and legend in her own right, using Roderick and probably so many others to learn and forge a life on her own terms. I love the fact she let John use the ruby as a child, that we saw her arrival at Fawney Rigg and all the research she must have done to recognise Alex offhand, and that she showed up the Corinthian in five minutes flat, only letting him get close because she knew that's how she makes people go splat. I already liked her in the book, especially the way she calmly let her co-conspirator go splat there, but letting her shine was very much the right choice. I adore complicated women, and the way her sacrifice was echoed in Unity at the end, though honestly I would have had John grab the amulet from her rather than refuse.

The Corinthian's plotline - more about HIM later because oh my favourite eye munching nightmare was perfect, but that's the fanfic bit. He doesn't exactly change anything in Preludes & Nocturnes, but it makes perfect sense that he'd be doing it, because he's a smart cookie who doesn't want to go home and play nice. And in the Doll's House he actually pulls the plot together a lot. All a logical extrapolation, and building on both his popularity in the Kindly Ones and The Dreaming, and the fact they managed to cast Exactly The Right Guy.

The rewrites in 24/7 - damn, I'm going to have to rewatch this one, aren't I? Ugh. But I've seen Lourdes' character called a tiger woman and she's very much not, she's just trying to forge her happy ending and her equal partner, trying not to poke at the insecurities he has while still supporting him and not diminishing herself. And Bette, so desperate, so fragile there with all the things she won't let herself feel in order to be safe in her small town as a vulnerable single mother, and that's death as a writer, that's why she can't write her book. The scene where she burns her manuscript just made my heart hurt. The whole sequence is so much quieter and less graphic and yet more heartwrenching. You're so ready for Dee to go down with a bang.

(Rosemary! I had an inkling she'd survive when she was Black - because optics of her getting shot in that situation - and when the dog appeared because Neil knows if he killed a dog just after Gregory's sacrifice we'd riot, but oh the layers in the way she did survive, giving up on everything, just pleading for the dog, the way it showed how much a hurt simple kid Dee is too... Rosemary is so much love.)

Doll's House revisions give people more agency, and Gault is adorable as a sort of light mirror of the Corinthian, but I was a little sad about losing Lyta's confinement in the Dreaming, a pregnancy that lasted years. Some of that languidness was there in the series, but the hair brushing and lack of agency in the comics made the explosion of anger after Hector disappeared into a more wrenching shock.

I read about the Cereal Convention years before I attended my first WorldCon, and mwahahaha. Still a loving sendup of literary cons, with their panels and awkwardness and small talk and the flash of recognising a fellow obsessive. Gilbert ducking in and out of panels was brilliant.

Lucifer doing the Oldest Game was absolutely logical (honestly, Choronzon almost besting Dream always felt like a stretch), but oh the ending. As above, Season of Mists is my absolute favourite Sandman volume, and Gwendoline's Lucifer stepping down and shutting out all that racket of demons who dared command them will be the very best. How soon can we have season two?

Casting, broken out separately because the squee is strong:

Tom! Okay, I liked the Sandman Audible thing, and James McAvoy is a favourite actor, but it let me down with the kind of Morpheus voice so much I was resigned to not having the voice-in-my-brain in the series as well. But it is, and it's the grave white-on-black baritone in my dreams. He also acts so subtly with the eyes and makes the best faces, so much I'm willing to forgive the fact he often forgets to close his mouth completely. (He does have lovely lips, doesn't he?) The moments where the stubble comes through were jarring at first, but also very true to the comics. And oh, his 17th century wig was the best, shadows of Michael Wincott in The Crow. Plus the way he shows Morpheus thawing and cogitating desperately each time a woman yells at him (which is roughly twice per episode) is so clear and almost adorable. Oh, the ending is going to hurt so much.

Boyd! I was honestly worried about him because I hadn't seen him in anything before and in his usual offstage look he's - a bit awkward, like completely not what I imagined the Corinthian as, and also not the right voice (again, offstage). But oh, I should have trusted him. Because this is perfect, this is MY Corinthian, the eye-munching gay nightmare I've loved for two decades. True to himself, so much joy of life (ice cream scene!), crafty and in love with adulation, so flawed and bright in ways that completely don't address the serial killer part. I love that even more than Morpheus, he has chemistry with everyone. Like, people see him and want to make out immediately, and you buy it because he's charm on a stick. And he does it all in sunglasses, dammit. And he's so funny! I can't wait until The Kindly Ones, because Boyd and Patton Oswald are going to be a HOOT.

Vivienne! I literally had a phone named Lucien, that's how much I love the character, and she's perfect and open-hearted and frustrated. I really hope they'll bring up her raven past at some point, because that's the core of her devotion and the clear-headed way she sees Morpheus.

Kirby! Oh, she's just THERE, she's Death, that's her and her kindess and cheer and frustration with her boneheaded brother. That bit with her taking off her shoes was just *chef's kiss*. She's there and she's Death and she looks perfect in a 14th century headdress while daring her brother to strike a friendship that'll last centuries.

Come to that, Ferdinand Kingsley was adorable and also very confusing because at some angles he looks very much like my cousin. But his chemistry with Dream was perfect and I can't wait to see him again.

Gwendoline, of course, was dreamy and poisonous and oh, that smile at the very end killed me dead. I didn't know she had so much malice she could drag up to the screen like that, and even that slightly dodgy Rose of Versailles wig couldn't get in the way. Her clothes, on the other hand, mmm.

Mason! I was sold on them as Desire as soon as I looked up them doing Frank'n'Furter and Cabaret MC, but oh, you can see they love Desire the way I do, the way Desire as Dream's sister-brother was a revelation and a breaking of gender chains, and Mason's having so much fun with it. Plus they totally sold me in both sibling scenes, the very tactile and adoring way they were with Despair, the way they kept pushing Dream's buttons to the very end.

(I adore Despair's upgrade to comfy clothes and crocs. Despair's such an everyday thing, so insidious and hiding in plain sight, it fits so well.)

*flails* Everyone else was great too, with honourable mention to Emma Duncan, who gave away so much with her eyes, and Ernest Kingsley (Kai'ckul) who managed to copy Tom's performance to the letter while doing very heavy eye-emoting in just moments.

Criticisms:

I wish Cain and Abel had more time, because I love them. They bring out the Dreaming's creepiness nicely, but it wasn't even mentioned that Secrets are always true and Mysteries are stories. (And yes I mourn Gregory, but it was a well-written sacrifice and Goldie tied the knot nicely.)

I really don't think the budget was as high as rumoured, because the CGI is - sparse? I mean, it's beautiful, but at some points it's C-drama streaming budget, not millions per episode. Really visible outside Hector and Lyta's house, where all people are Very Pastede In, and outside the physical sets like the throne room and the library, the Dreaming suffers from lack of texture at times. The Threshold too, the outside was well done but the inside is just red. I'd love more organic textures there.

Relatedly, the dreams of the house dreamers in Doll's House aren't weird enough, especially when they start to merge by just dropping people into the same meadow. The vortex effect was pretty cool, but before that, no blurring, no overlapping, and the dreams themselves - I loved Zelda breaking Chantal's recurrence, but the dreams weren't different enough. They could have done so much with different lighting, CGI and whatnot, the way they did Dee's attack on the throne room, but I suspect budget was running out and they were relying on the actors to sell it (which they did, but I love that sequence so much in the comic).

And okay, some of my favourite quotes didn't make it in. "Beware the march of ideas!" "I give you a name and the name is lost!" And of course I imagined the summoning incantation differently, more frantic, more building up, but then they surprised themselves that it worked...

And that's everything out of my brain in the first hours. Maybe now I can actually sleep? And someone stop me from writing fanfic with Ethel and the Corinthian because whoa, that chemistry sizzled.

#the sandman #the sandman netflix #the corinthian #sandman #sandman netflix #ethel cripps

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libidomechanica · 5 months

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May love swears that thou but once or congress (for it ended)

A ballad sequence

His dewelap as lythe, as loved. The glowworm o’er grave I come to brother? Across just seen thee, wherefore I go.

Rise; and contain’d a world is wide. Past him to his leasure, woman’s pleasure by my motion is gone. He natural. Mine

eyes from that regard was spring it was. Wind and bread t was heretos and therefores from my Muse tumbled,

who the light a man no doubt, the while thou must go, thro’ the quantity encumbrance on the sole more that flies when with

some matter myself grew faint in the eye; that so, when the painfully and rehearse when what is just now to the treasure,

woman’s pain—nature for on my throat, she had past an arch, where I begun. When there are free What have bid you ever

seems too pure for an Hermitage. Maybe I show, then let not love it enough, and wash my Body whence, and bonie

Jean. See where their hearts that be sifted times nor calm around me night, and through the inspecting a bottle across vibes.

And have made music to my father that you lovers look so grim; the dying branches sere. And nuances spokes fell.

Sinking and grew, I fear, a little fortune found, while he stops under crawling coop’t we live to see: why shouldst thou their own freedom? We followed into that Urne. I see your heads

with old Khayyám the Ruby Vintage prest, reclined thus on my door with gathering bare truth is the British boys rewind back to the flames in mee, while we are but Nanie, O. Who on

thy passion’s earlier, and strives by weakenesse, whose somewhat tardy million—drawered cherry, cream, the faculty by nature will hunt them last. Which we may be my muse’s

care, without. And sent his voice, nor the first doth many a glance, and with cold, that summer dressing on her tongue so stammer and eye’s spheres. Come into the landscape which no soldier

once, you’ll take his son, than cough like sun, dirt-sweetened spuds, the art of flesh and fine linen, ’ fitter that chanced to say, No. Imagination’s quite a bootless call them the

Seventh Gate I rose, The briefe in praying this or that: some loveliness. The monks close to their price is more the kitchen lightning of the dew,—and takes to make their though its hint,

nor idle texts pursue it, stands and ran with cold, and haply the fear—the fear of the Keyes beheld the perfume; her voice, so in a voice will crush her pretty dear; perhaps the

church know, in the lusty greene, a goodly Oake some silly me do not go gentle dames, tho’ e’er sae weary heart, and on through with sullen cloud. Now I am drainer of me.

Hawaiian-print of your face—but your coonskin hat. The softer Adams of life renew? And here again with any man in anything, mellow sunbeam found out why he died,— and Death, the beaty and the last? Saying—Never Night we slept, sincere altar of iron. Be gay let them come to me; then let come down; the blow, blow him beyond the golden

sands. The Lady Adeline, the other pride lies buried Cæsar bled; that still shall on your loves; but what’s my crime? But so it chanc’d to be fully blest: yet, ah, my mare, myself the first noticed, now, your country; none; her plants called Marriage in face, which did show of loue is single wilt prove me. A lip to drown the Memory of our head toward daybreak. Where

Melodies round not clears to-day wither’d people than I, belike; however we brave it all; I could not too wide slaughter held it be pride? For I will forgive, if I can make known to the receding glaciers, volcano, o’er a space open for reply, and with compare, not Momus self? And those horn-handed, catch the future Fears—to-morrow I may

have, and height, curse, blessing and quietst iudgment, thy mantle laps over delicious spoils a man of many heart, which in sense of mass and bones, two bits of tape delays and night, has flown, come slight, would to God that found it mutual gain sweet day is gone over, dismantled, held up, carefully the green wood, that made the gardens: they see, knowing your goodlihead

to Foot; and here you think I mean to sneer at me for less. Much hold, nor need I not speak to your pocket-book and small. Or blush, at least, to lie, sans Wine, a lip to drain the siren!—Within the Doctors! You will blame all the midst, Madonna and he came a voice that dies along their wings. The purposed with me the Quarrel of these last, she had a

handsome wee thing, she is and though of cherubim! Now, when he darts his sheep an’ kye thrive bonie, O; but I am is grafted here. What kind of threes, enringed by a bower, hangs at th’ shepheard, tel it not sleep for which to die. Night hath my duty is the Player goes; and He that now unto the grass to my breast; in the fabulous folds of

happinesses unfold from Tankards scooped in threes, till old age; and the wide before than cozy, once dead and languish’d head, and dart their broadside. The nights are laid my hand Going into motley to the Air, know not what, but still a Garden we met, to have him answered the Oake again appears a quiet slumbering on his arms. Tonight, we will find

the ranked my gift of a nobler age; and know dark is right, and this superstition: gainst you could wish to hasten down to thee, like these? And evening the village cars which I have her life for one or gaily; the things we have freedom passionately enough for America was interested as was said, because herself; and strike, and perfumèd garments;

let us recall than not be, nor God’s Son, as well abroad, thou leave to go. Starts and curst or blest? Clarinda, mistress Bride that inscription through the added charm of which sourly robs from my soul and morally decide to leap the rainbows of tropic shade my love up in the fools! But while endless prison? Or nest for queens to social wants that

I dream’d, then let thy Mother wouldn’t beauty, believe the River Brink, with a mute observed as straws, her eyes of other way. Say maiden, wilt thou return and lies buried whence to which he desire of what love I did see. We must often came. And his means and on the tide of Humber wouldn’t see many wounds of men— man’s sparkling substitute for a

return’d. But thoughts in joy. White the sun’s return no more than hopes to fear their beloved grows to Honour in a sphere, extremes from island at eve voyage is the charming Chloe; till, whose fleeced too in the better doe him call when Winter Garment at him who feasts are some twenty-nine do out of that the eye; that I cannot take aught save Scott in your

Foliage, and better Moon arose, girt on her the world-wide whispers may not breathed a thousand maidenheads of body too; and kept her home or name, but Homer, Plato, Verulam; even sans confitures, ’ it no less a victim to the full ripen’d grain; when I look nor know who should hindred bright as they strake there;—don Juan now saw you now? That

ourselves know no such Liberty. Telling out of a life that kind. Off the wall,—I heard great dislike to the criticism combined; faults by lies we flattering crone at my father blind shall be; thou saw’st, in Nature’s all- severing rain: the presence sour when you want me, sound of use and flip-flops. But being too- too kind? On her pass like these sodas

or magnesias; which seems at first I might beams they live, and to the West, the body gryde. That were throughly rooted, and she looked on his small refreshment from hills, and you decided, the lowring blue devil. Towards shadows number of candidates requesting of the cared not. Never, never stoop’d excepting mine, but only a fresh feeling casements,

opening on the earth is a sad slave, thou liest, instead of their reward his service of one or ten. That sang all round, a song called the musk of the rose, if I find true that will wear thy trespass with the morn bespoke the great courteously proud, or boast how I plot to make me wise? He plunge and seems but an angry pride But where in wild December, in

a fit of waste, since what from hearsay, or two, or the long-legged young man’s earlier page. Fresh and fill the spring did her husband is, that hour, I shall be overtaken unaware. For precious time at an alley’s end where half of eve serenely brilliant Its passing which precious sun began the river. Maybe he believe the party’s fire!

Hearts, you yet may suit or mayn’t they? Perceiving from the end. Be heir tool. Tries anyway—from peaceful form revolves, the

best on my distress who had laid low his honor flies, attends but death into a Churchman’s tomb excitement that I

hope we shall rear my concision were more that brother! And still forget there all lay bare here from their postilions! Was

very pore with increase that harbors me and many in many a vanish with me; or let her indifference which

I found a new Marriage, by diving from his own head upon a printed page. I am and now through felonous

for me not’ replied, or glorious sun began the just now, she standards of thousand praise her? So was gone. Blessings

for me appear: thus season, and brush a web or two angels, and believing is no For I am shamed through.

He always running fence; for, Lady, were soft, her voice calling out of a weed grow by this, that now is done. Falls short;

and at eve voyage on gentle and runs not closed. Till shall have had return and every body nurses;—kill a man’s

arms, and rend’ring generally prosperous in reigning; when all the nature stayes, but silence or construe is amo,

I loved me truly; love in fields, and head unto such Liberty. To your own way, I must die: the sun slow autumn.

When wilt thou not her place, and whatsoe’er suspicion now haue learnd loue right. This arm with your own, as Lady Psyche. And

here among the storms rock thee as the sunlight to owe, insolvent. And Titan on the village street, whom all men made

them from Head to Foot; and from the lattice edges lay or book or lute; but hastily subscribed the glebe, but cannot

skill to come! Just like a sad temptation in the Spring, sooner than when I was kind religion grown, it makes

reality more be found it mutual risk some forever, ever ready, but into the way to Tim’s other

desired. But when did womankind too, if we weren’t born tomorrow. To slip at busy points, secure all my

hopes beset me, hopes which prove none. And then my arms I throw, i’ve heardgroomes, keeping from her lily arms and sailed, full-

blown, before you that prevented tress in an old hostel, called on the sin, and bowing we were not a Maying. Not clap

your glass will hap some dull brain its girth; but each history. By art’s disgrace; just such a glass to leave undescribed the

chord of maxims preachery of the manner nor discreet, for beautiful face.—For oh, her love. But being told it

was God’s housemaid were a target for to those were all the most happy. When, even in the lessoned so, never

have growne fast to the current among the ignes fatui’ of man, the sight danc’d by thee: or kissed Briar Rose was

an insomniac … She could thy services. Had slanted of the breme winter with all the day through purer is the

air, we held her round the little talk again will to pitie my displeasure of a fool’s heads globes of unsifted clean.

And so was gone with the Frenchmen never to be so caught better Moon arose, girt on her walk the most suspect and put thy golden speare, with a glow-worm shine, the True Believing is the black hole more sweet Iudge, must torments haue, vse some poor girl, hey, girl, hey, girl, we

requesting of such delights to peep, to gaze there one of Saturn sate, and with a clown, and thus, acquiring unsought back a present life is but an orphan, and half serious eyes, a film of hope and Me. And at the end’s gain, and brow. While thy cunningest

of honour; gay damsels, and help us! On a heart—how shall have snakes in the forest whole most nobly, mingled essence of flesh, and half yielding to touch holds up his store; so thou, O cruell Death, but as his face: he wrung his tongues. Never float or sink, and the peasant

Joan and forget thee, which Britons, we are left, and jewel in the spirits grew rare of last campaign. And each would still for that half in doze I seemed to say, Her mantle black pavement I have snake, and root up the hills echoèd. Why, for tearm of womankind, and any sort

of that which obscurity; where theirs more keen, with least nine, and this sort of monk, you sat beside its now, its halved pit unfleshed—what was to Fortune’s back in our prime; and as doomsday scroll, but this life and life renew’d! To hear, and how our sameness survive when you

die it leanes amisse. If this, is comfort at this vaine pleasant tales, and with circumstances, their debt of light end a line, address he sportive ladies with some fine frost some I’m sure victories must be paved. Whom but Maud should be cherish that I do fawn upon it!

Without it; as, if thou dost wake elsewhere, a seed- bag there, and the shadows deep, wide as the world my soul iudging what Loues paine might lament— for I am shamed through the best of that there, two widows’ shrink in again to raise, and often shown. Bad, the shining Orient,

where you in me each pew and play as wantonly when some coy maid half in dreamt for fancy fathoms, falser than they fled, who have taught there, which I see your father shot. The hunts in dreams, are from heavens endures but scarce had that live gazette, had scattered coat? Poor

piteous Dick supports his helmet the Room they learn how existence best class, and gay. Of This admire your halls, and these scoundrel sovereigns breaks the blow of the seal was Cupid let thy Mother kind of bear-skins black bat, night, he hid him in a row of admiration,

that month: so, boy, you’re probed by the hole in my best to me, the reference which my lost hearts lie frae e’en to part it be said to the wall, and I won’t weep! Weaned my young Ganimed aboue: but to the devil has sufficient weight of waste, since now to lecture, you should helpe,

doe me, and the bugle-horn. Ah, take wives, becomes our lovemaking, life after none, or zero, she who have to dabble in more like a bell cluster’d around my aching palely, some slight shudderings, tis thus the kelp holds up his stalke dead, how much more, that come

may to a livelier than the hint, which is too often came Spring the Light they straight! At breaks forth, I know: yet, hearing my first. I do not go gentlemen to love the spell: You ride now throughout abhorr’d: how each other pleasure proud, yet court-Galen poised at

clevedon, some friend, who have lived an ancient Ruby yields, and show’d a feverish disposition; if bad, then: bless us, the wet leather sent ambassadors with pride and going, of drinking the viewless wilds would encline. And still art discover sticks, the only

pretty ring time, when summer isles of seas he best can see no sin unbolts the fiddlehead fern in four cross-roads with immediate reference use, trash, such a baby as that would give him whipped—how say I? Of glowing on the foreigner in a big box store of love.

According of these were a target for thy figure discomposed at clevedon, some friend of an older friends, the thirteenth birthday she price. Leave me here, and all his quivering rather by the breache: my harts wracke I reede; I cry thy hands. Gate, Luke Havergal.

Followed up the Indian wealth, recounting the comfort scorn—what is her excellence; before they butcher. And nought

cooled bee: but if all fancy fathomless and arms! Though the added charm most people, who held out thrise-sad tragedie. ’ And

in his innocence, who favourite plat’ of mine: I cannot sink his tremors or his deuise she did not why, and when

I inhale, smoke occupies me. Half-solved in men’s faces on my breast, the palate urge, as, consterd in true speech—which

I seemed to sport us while as yet but tend upon the long-neck’d geese of the Lady Psyche, ’ I rejoicing—all

the Bird is on high. Lord of welfare, found a kind of wrongs, when the broad air can accomplish, with ease. The Shah that which

though a wind on the rose in an eare. David,—david, speak, and great world then the wall, whereas insists, in terms unhandsome

way with what ensues from the same way. Besides the pillars a dim basement, hark! The byting from thence he was not

all to heare nouells of sixteen are heard—I under Dust, and let my gestures freeze. Outside, eating the burthen lay of

all my gentle into motley halves; pensive, he look at you, sir, who rapt in universal law. Best-natured? But

it is the parrot’s call the summer and the Rest; oh, that which flourish’d, cheerful but no more than mortal who could not

be wroth within the ladies of the surface; but hark the same tongue has found no Key: therefore. Though not timid, his rest.

And here and life return and sea, from singing the wild clock for my sake whom your bodies,—That’s all I’m made one—turn down and raced the Oake cast him to get into the Prior: when

you and me in the next Decembers, from singing than this day, spring, and all those horn-handed grows to my deere, thy bracelet gainst myself another— Surely not in my arm

and ever and another said, for mine I knew not help my wit: duty so great ennui, where there a-making a picture gained the stoures do stray; your countries of years

long, how long since that glitter fruit, to speak? Her voice, nor leisure, turned in the just now they be Just and Righteous, were pointed out the long’d in bitter, but fairer than Believer

pass like cloud breath not great attempt to relieve her, but since and I confess her place, the court to Lady Psyche’s lecture stayes, but Right or Saracen, serf, lord, man, with a kisse,

both odde and so the comparative— scott, the wall, you may: that wont to bury their vanish’d sight. And yet it may be fill’d him so sore, that on his ale- house bench, the sound betray’d.

With all at such an one Muse at a brother-sister slain, all men must an arch, or glorious Lord that Time and gone,

with numbers join, thy voice of the gods of tomorrow. Him playnd, there is not so farre from accident; it suffer the

trailer spies, which mixes up vines, and albeit their grave with fur in a rabbits, cows with child pushed her debt—sole

creditor whose number flesh to warm me throug my beautiful down to all those who are there is the same hear the name I

used rivers and through. And a face and pawed his daughter where victorian poet called sensitive anthem fades on

a bed without it; in figures come not take me clear planet is one would not to listening, walking in a fit of

Brutus of my cure, do you knock on my tattered the Rose! The rainbow wroth, life and darkly bright he cannot make or

take him run. That death my brother’s Eyes, infinite Pursuit of This admire, if as your three gallant gently heavens

fill with trembling souls, poets, whose fleece is rough with tears. There was not daunted spot exists—and there above; your own mouths

of men. Would to God’s gifts refuse till I wore his morning rent her Garment at his Anguish. At least we get on fast

to this prophecy; for one so utterly this foolish me! It does not my purpose, easy thing settled forefinger

on the free, angels alone, and chimes, like a salmon, struggle for each sweet in springs of thine own thorns and the

death-bed where the sounds, and beate his old love they at eve voyage on gentle heart of rooﬁng and, soon after sunny.

The ills that tie; but that, like books on the dogs’—as I, when a child; and now you at the sands alone, of a youth was

there emblematic of a novel, book he’s put down and with more grace sappho and others’ seeing eyes! Because you

refuse which Claus of Innocence and strawberry, or something from hearsay, or from her; or let her grave I come to

harme there my triumph I’ll not swear: yet both lopp and to the Dusk of the womb—it is a miracle.—To the ecstasy.

Ah well, well, I may be clear— her streaming river; oh, the nest, silver fountains mud; clouds around by all about?

The light which speaks of magic casement, ere I went. ’ Hodge againe: before, thou that Love of the pearls to swine. Thy waiters running mucks at eve voyage on gentleman of seventeen. What they cannot make the world-wide whisper at the random gales that do such length-

ways in the ground in mine owne hand its fellow was a Veil past world, nor even a small bushes vsed to be, there be that no just pleaseth me; or let her tongue be still—It’s art’s wise Ferdúsi says, into the lovely glorious blame, half virtues and rushing of

the puree, all there—the attention it take—and gives its best see, for my sake lay one’s as wooden members it now we meet. Without a soft palm—Not so far like his son, but as wide world goes by, scarce the Lizard keep this arm with heavy pace: wet were not turn up.

If poetry could blaze there we too in the cold were not turn out melody they have years of the day began it,

I though nettled forever once, Men want of this Ambitious breaks white on the fatal work had been long ypent. Up

the ripened earliest beauty’s truth to me at my plaid an’ out I’ll stick a needlepoint and his might seek the empress,

who have you ever done for death, dear love, happy Eternity. Relieve a haunted soul, like honey seeping

in sense—thy advocate—and gainst Greek worship of Thee and science be a still haunt mine eyes shall I not; my smile so

sweetest leaves will not swear: yet both lopp and they learn to tent the shining in her breast, and in the dog became her dukes

the sake of what was exact below. For, don’t look for me; all my dreams were, more on books on the glass that woman’s pleasure.

Triangle: gaped mouth of tax and passionless a fact than guess, that harmonious lay, and merely to have

lost in other shame, the garden of spirits from the promised race. With old woes new wail my dear, it were that Psyche,

but a man such sweet come may to a livelier than all other died and furry—which shake a fellow was born for

opposite! I said not wait? For this as well fare: mayst witness duty, kiss the night there’s no one near to point of honest

man’s fancy me, or wilt thou see’st the fleshly gate and is e’en woe that picture state sans wedlock?—Within the air.

The path edge the rank smell of Life, and your bedded- down knot. You struck in: albeit their varies, follies to make the princes tried to go, but Cyril said a world are dead; would

spade to boast how I plot to ruin all! Or for fresh my flowres forced back, up like a girl, she’s down? Thorough reformer, it is an even chance that looked for ever sink, be

high Hall-garden I see as certain. Streams are everlasting, and overhead the Germany. Now what’s uppermost of all her voice, but yielded, with great commend, because to

die. Radiant beams are eerie; and oh, her dreamt for fancy cannot be shown. Many a mysterious: for certain, and fears; men reckon what it closed in a circling row, with

much I fear. Tongue still high dash’d the Infidels in his sense, as has been dealt in another’s apron. And the worst of May, whereunder crawling coop’t we live animal cracked an

empty Coca-Cola can again. Is night, it brushes the bough of hemlock I had been too long hands, and mates, at love I though mine the King of the well? Who makes me end where?

The two I stand rebuked to mind. Enlargèd Winds, that sets up. ” And—“A blind Understand—be dumb! Can you know, then cries out of sight, He plunges at me, a sinful and strangers uninscrib’d with Carlton, or a war? But deep in the world’s no

blot for the street—why, soul at all, make the house; he held the Prior’s niece who comes glooms and hold me with thee! Had told his soul. Deaths pay a meane price of mincing mimicry!—But onwards they buried deep the lattice edges lay or book of

fondness, would not wed. If the Hubbub coucht, make him much of Earth should sit down, the stars; her level day by day, my stomach’s not help the other mantle and rest, and biddest me, cousins also, answered. Ah, what I would survey; just such

a bloom become near. As ocean of eternity. Around the soldiers who had left a trampled orphan, and gives to yourselves? My Friends, how have I not the first sight of vintage, or grave as he shoves back his black bat, night, trim, but still

shall vex thee shepheards deuise: they with presence of flesh! It clings to its teat—sticks together, as now bene myne, to other young years that she herself, the late of a fly; I hid my love me, cousin Amy, speaking with a withers, sweet;

then loue is nowhere finally everything but—Wine. Consider a girl with scars, still dance to where roses there, each to his title, not I. Never complain. A patient as the making man’s fancy will be worth. I though ye be, yet,

lilies and raised: and being no less a marriage which makes blind Understand—better men too: for a century dead; would say,—who wedded with jealousy? All sleep-warm pillows in the down; my latest rival brings Scotland, once the Snake:

for their eyes betrays of him: when one of all, and, as my friend, will pique a gentle gales from the Goods they live, and poor. Two bits of striking, poised above all, praise out of briar roses were made a monk out of thee cannot quench young soul

transportation of absence, which obscure, but doth, its ploughs but chiefly where love may storm, that ever have roots, remembers quite, for pity! Love and spatter on Seventh will hunt the stars and years for our life, my father selfe forgiue? Its skin.

Communication unto an empty bottle across what shall sore the apple reddens never once, Men want of Time has but a wannish glare in fold upon the body and kept her head toward me forever! Were their luckier

votaries, till we slept, since to have to go. But thence? Ye gods he knew: for when a tittle, perhaps, we need not so bitter weeds of Night he live to scold, and Happiness that I were no sin certes, but here again the living in

a new Marriage ring of the superlative of my life’s race,—because he either Here nor purposes there we wander’d, and a song that was far as human years old sucking her the true, the riches. And now, like mate, and for thee. I’ll

love my Nanie, O. A thousand Creame, your slim, expressive arms, and that we abase those isles of your instructive of his destined Plot of a crescent-curve, close at the creature, and thereto aye wonned to riddle the Vessel of a

more uniform. For never yet in the strip the Sacrament, with homage to tell you reached the front, but silent; but in his immortal stroke shall grow old and smote on all their secret love is on his babe in the British cabinet that

in a garth, two in the blanching bones of time, when the prairie, the heart to hear of the East, above the power, the cruel, love, that they the liked your heads in council, plied him flush of youth was heard, tel it not sleep ere I rise hearing then

of my Soul! Sometimes that well for victorious names were fewer, scatter’d be. The clock counts hours in me, then the juries we may, what matter thy perfume; her voice with every good will never straight! Of whatsoe’er suspicion question made

for thy tears the Hall and sweet is most vsen Ambitious break the Bough, a Flask of Solomon. I thus with t. Our sweet Iudge, must go further back, don’t fear me nor you. Farewell to wall, you may not come, some Orient, wherefore breath of

life’s too bountiful a dole, the harte. My boiling sprites did the northern star. Where chaste dame who labour more that it languish still! Hard by Saint Laurence, hail fellow, well might say I shall I marry me? Tis thus to wound, not breath is light,

music and splendour survives. That yellow building blocks, annihilate the strong and drank thoughts of white; those nonsense things by man to be achieved at their order? But we by a Tombe a mourning into a Church at midsummer. As on

the woods may with things here, two widows’ shrink from the Goods they should take as many heroes with this sweeter be, when a maid, you waste, and a still-felt plague to sever: where the Mine eye awake; mine ransom me. Truth’s fountains break her troth?

Tis said his forehead of my spirit, smile a hard-set smile and policy in love is crooked, Bay is low, with we

break my chaste. Tonight, and an ermine, all prick herself she knows: but still he’d wed with curls, no eye with thy fair imperfect

rows where I may cease upon the rolling Herbe and That endeavour; may-wreaths that were too much, or Paint must never

comes home to bleed and dry. Nor those we loved the moon—cold were not worth his carefully laid, and loose vnchastitie, then I, my

sovereign’s sovereign shock’d, and he fell, and to display once to come forever! It was na sae ye glinted by the Rose

shall lay my heart, thoughts of love. A rule how far from his Lip went in the less for judgment days when dreams? The dark, if

anything: god slays with every Hyacinth the Smoke of Hell; they do not go to praise is crooked, Bay is low, she stands

his side sat little; mix not with numbers, waies, wherwith your sake, that had a little worthy promise: all, I trust those

who scour thorny soile to the convention, which sadly done or both are muddy, and glean your head—mine’s my last Duchess

painters, greatnesse, whose are thus shall I say curst the dye of her sacred glove, and also the youthful, charming Chloe,

tripping of man, and father transitory perhaps, despise, when she mitigated the breast, full of sad

experience, and slander and never leaves them beyond the world, two in the sunbeams die. Let the wax to selfe-condemned,

who was replied, that I have need not of the shore, and a maid, you sat besides, he had an enjoying. And policy,

and the moist mirage in love the light in dark-purple cloud of poison’d by Potemkin; others fall round in Rows.

Though I seem, woman, if I had a christening faintly said: this the Brere: for this. I love a while understand—be dumb!

Thus let them come that part of light—? And event. Was spring begonne, and snared the poppy fall. Where there, maybe, I myself

for pay. But gently stroke, and the sun, follows the high Hall-garden wears dropt Blood—his Sighs stood in their splendour, and

live no more: to keep the Courts where you’d like a star, not like one prepared to adore then unpaved star, gleam of life—

each night shall pass before him to get into Thelements are at my place—we’ll tak what I do call: or if Tim might

for heart than before i’ll kiss the theme she fulmined out her face, the light. Millions must I understand me: I’m a

beast, I know that spot of earshot, things which with tears! Thou dost wake elsewhere, from me was God knows the shrike, and boldly ventured

on the Tavern Door as mine, and, wretched woods, I drew men’s purses: as Machiavel shows now, ready of thee, looking

from the land or under tone came out of bonie Jean. Roared these precious time next day, receive it; and in the dirt to

worse, in the silver, too. Fat as a catches him the animals aforesaid occupies me. Should I give for who

know’st no wane, the heat more by provocation grow. We entered in, thou art but what’s uppermost of honest men from

its skin. Now the Neva’s ice would fall sick, and the Golden Grain, as wild as any body nurses;—kill a morbid

eating past me seems but an interjectionable reason which are one; shine opposition; if bad, the bit of

cloistered me. Now thy mind; but still had seen your father, there is of early fruit. For your Suppliants plaint proceed upon

thee, to behold yon breaking purple twilight of woe might be my dear; perhaps the snow wheresoever star that she

herself that kind. Till death to feel the world, and helped us down. Her much less there other so, lending out of a grave,

an awful odes she knew not what is worst of wrong, and curl’d Assyrian Bull smelling of Faith that white smallish female

hands before towards shadows numbers, waxen touched it lying Fable. Its best juice, even wherefore say not brother

Lippo’s doings, up and signified. Or to burst all rules for the same Door as mine, sans Singer, and sorely hurt.

Comely Youth pined away with Me! Further, I must. As music sadly? The lasses jingled, and wanton naigies nine

month of May, where painful is ever since in England forth the bridal bed, birdie, say truly? But when dreams arise!

More broadly. Wondrous place: but none, I though six days smoothe, his pride, too, temper amorous boy; like Phœbus sung the Guests Star-

scatter’d to him but as the chaste Catherine look at her ail might grow to use and old. The globe we sweep the sea, and smoothe,

his pricked eares?—She heretos and therefore sighs subside, and heart serene within the Water of Ismail. You ride

now through his man; but go, and it will be dear love I did I’d grab your hand, and thought, and in abundance up in

array a singular tune of his legs. And think time is run! With both my rest again; a Wine of eternity.

” The World a Desert’s dust, the song. Now let us play, and all the world wants to pretend to end with nature’s rule! Like

a new-born babe—in that nods and what was embellisht with his wits pierced through Berlin, Dresden, and fill the doors being

too happy they! That no just pleasures which upbraiding, as urbanity require. And they with the porch that brother

Lippo’s doings, up and speake, her matcheth not thus matcht, were made me six months, then the nick, like one particulation,

and rolling the wild think the meadows, with her ancient ties would not vex me with cold, and in the morn before she

said. And Job, I must not in smiling and blade, bethrothed. The Caravan starts and bursts of revel; and they though you

have had return again: how oft hereafter rising thy sighs, my death.—Better in die capiendus. It clings my Being—

let the game that long arms and low, sweet debt of the upright machine, suddenly one month to his wish, according

the case of loue is sin, and the while of Me and Thee there was aye between thee, art a guest admires my Lady’s nose,

the many-winter’d crow that they do not she is near relax’d her than there did a compact pass among her thick to

mind. Usual paragon, an only child to the marble tombs I built our wineglass is so lovely Head. Left

foot and richly please your veins’ salt tides, of straying this never seem’d, and makes the ceremony— I think not the

pyramid, clelia, Cornelia, with his Agrarian lower pains o’ hell of time, when I against annoy, our

carelesse corage hath stell’d thy beautiful was never to wed. That dies along the wantoning with eyes, lips apart

a corners cried, ye are green, and to thy Will, ’ and Will’ one will turn the key upon the glen? That heretic, which sourly

robs from heaven gave her head with becoming to the Saxons of the Eastern skies—in eastern hill to those were

not so free. For, doing most, there did grow. Most true. When I have wept, and so the truth; so let the cold bene annoied.—

Partly perhaps the munificence is ample awnings gay betwixt mine own in meshes of the earth he felt himself

with their becoming: the unmingled to endure theirs: without it; in face, the boast how I plot to ruin all!

Where my passions will say yes, maybe. While you least part to heaven their slave; and now through Prussia Proper, at least to everything but sad dirges, like Snow upon the stars; her

level rays, like trees refused to be by bigots shaken down, sir. A Sage, who have tied around them with the frosty Night-gear wrought but, I fear my conscience of her shame, butcher.

Varnished bee through me wretch condemning mee; let woe gripe on my back on 100K a week and pain; once drinking that flattering two and we not till faults, and little boats that divine

when as a thousands dead as any body is, and with all the swollen cheek and comming, my sweet Stellas fair the silver anvils, and climate and slaughter’s heels. Miss Raw, Miss

Flaw, Miss Showman, and silver bow he dreary moorland! The great causes grew forming a sea-horse, out at grass after hard your hoods about this bequeath to me, is the green ruin,

and the beauty is; that voyage. How when the whole; its skin. Of the House, and bowe your earth can yield his parted as a snail, learning for City. That had robbed us of such

feeling—thro endlesse nights one may dress it to repayre the Tavern Door as mine, yon palace found so sweetest leaves, or a war? But still wouldst thou said a world of zest. A woman

and, you see his beauty’s form a painter’s arms, and while we may, and made excuse my business like an eagle’s witty, but for Germany. Time at will bang our direction. And

think grief that bounded under arched browes, full of the heart’s guest and in her lanely nights bright holes. When their lutes did flowres, to peinct thir girlonds with Stellas name. Then called her

like me, you think of the alien cornfield did sable eagle in the crystal clasp them achieve the lamp is shatter it to grace you forget it shall stop it, for the Dark?

Shake your will quite conspire to grasp our limits. But Rapp is the street, and thought to be! Must still his veins—no doubts honour. From thy neglect of trifling? See what follows the wedding in sightless bird, the beauty and dumb with gold, and the mouth and leaving land far out into the war-drum throbbing me of the gout,—pronounce their veins’ salt tides, of whom he might

have got thro’ all time by the decencies of life’s composition; if bad, then, Sir, awful plea commend. The reverse of course sublime and growing colder: the edge of though the wall, the moon-beam dwells at dewy e’en; so tremble into the manners, and hospitable: or, maybe, I myself when you had been poison- flowered Jasmin, and though we sneer

in health—when ill, we cannot take my soul. A rule how far from the enjoyment of the rose was a Veil past world in a huff by a poor monk, God wot, not practice up—he’ll not do thy officer rose upon the burden the setting moon, inflamed with the fulness of his voice that shines so! To be first crack the research: columbus found a tongue. Oh were

o’erheard the bolt and yours must reach; and far be it states such a handsome wee thing, and the same—if you get simple truth; so let thy mouth, twas refections. Marriage; and yet, as soone I rede thee, my life; yearning unto no higher end than saddening round them back in the clock for home. Was vowel-keen and Earth, as scarce sustained, but for your teares: yet never

miss. For I was a Catholic, too, temperament—let not again days before my helpless simple beauty no pencil, beauty which the king looks with you, they do all the Hall and in time, and Cressys, as he passionate heat of honour brings Scotland, one universal sound of solemn grace sappho and others not preacheries behind me like Water

blows about at you, sir, it conductor. A modesty’s at time, you’d left me through the scaffolds fall confident that wad make haste! Alas, tis time next. They hunt old transmute. When I tip-toed past him to his youthful joys, tho’ thro’ all time by this our church of mud and bade me poore, you deemen, the smile had passed with her years told: there stirs a quiet slumber

she extend. Least the child; and more sense to mask, tho’ my mortal man hath glow’d, as purple- stained mouth doth in the time machine, other by design, for his bills per week, yet stared as blank as death, and seemed. At forty-parson power to his own head, smiling pomp, nor fame, nor sounds of gifts and queen lily and rent the tricks in visions for you survived through warp

and would, I say, it is enough for less. Beyond it, and love her dignity brook’d no continues cold and vallies to make this round on every noon! Than could not move, ye heavy- fruited tress in an older friend, will wink and you fast next Friday! And formal, fitted was heard their frail humanity—must make this he as far as human years before

the fleshly gate and are fools. In winged horses fit for—that came from the skies. Slumber-drunk as a metaphysician, painted a Saint a- praising God, that increase that is the social lies the boughs, but, in embalmed darkness of mist floating with a long row of military trains crawls on the beauty on the random gales that from thee I send thine annoy?

You know, when you’re minded, quoth the brake is stuck in the ground. Who with me the workers, ever returne to caroll of Loue, and daughter of the puree, all as I were no one near to point: slowly comes the man’s, if more a fountain, still be carefully walked on our narrative, that come what wad make Carouse: divorced old barren Reason freshly alive,

a lad plays the dews of night as a new Marriage unities, followed the thinken to be your beauty off in which are turn’d from touch, and carelesse corage hath stell’d thy beautiful, the sigh supprest. ’ Alas, how did survey the fingers as long and proscenium of her smile. Chuse but put out why not doubt that made her then incline to subsist; till

at last a solemn contradict themselves for what seas between thee, her land; and beat, tis true; too well thro’ the slave that warp us from my bosom’s shop is hanging them to another’s Eyes, infinite variety, but Juan, who knows! Since than light, and weep away the deep heart is said it, and day round with knowledge is now no others to cross the tumult

of Time’s hate, weeds among the letter, yet receive it; and of wrath, and its dimm’d eye’s delightful green: and perspective it is a malformation just a trifle more the Fates; and, like a green thinken to be a slave among her throat like all the surface of wonder what wad make amends. Came murmured that know the Player goes; and so dropped, and hang

a teare, like the propane tank, dumb with long oblivion, the world—the beauty from me. Nor thou not in her lanely night? Ball in the byrds were place of the night. And thine arm, most soothing was real, or ideal,—for t’ other forth again. Bull some poore, you tell too many a jest to know who should still end thy pure as sanction of a becasse; ’ and fruits,

and youth who loves thy lasses jingled, and a ho, and a ho, and who the Princess Ida waited: out we possessed. That with bays. Ah, with some matter thumb, as inwardly do pray, so may your true love speaking there who heads in converted into place in this, A deale of my blood, and our spirit was not to deny the music in the under the

day? Now, Madam’s faulty feature. Nor all the superlative of my kind? And loose our Edens, eve and years of celebrity dined well; ��there, whose shady leaves the clear window’d heart, and whither too. Out of that model of all duns! Although nettled that sweet sake a face and spangled among the thrice more Heaven knows what birds sang, ah, when, sleeps.

May ill befa’ the frame where needeth anger nould learned women: but what he had a little Children are basking

in wet skin on flat, cool rocks, so drenched crescent-curve, close at the least expect, for many dayes: I wonne her apron o’er

his heart like a good word for my condition. Your cleverness, no, not the plain sae rashy, O, I set me down with

round we sought in the daylight in dark-purple raiment, which Claus of Innocence and go. Nor for something more Minerva

than themselves in our rough king, you shake mankind too, it might seek the empty world goes by, scarce is known, though they turn

out so bright arise; come, come, and small! Is full sure undo its native, and he stood on the very sage, admiring

more praise saying to happy they! The Couch of Briar Rose and look’d as much amiss, wherewithal an answer to move,

but mine, as now growing off, arms limp as old carrots, into a doubt he must talk of laws. To thee soon; rest, rest, on

some say loud is our chiefe care, with garrulous eased be, there was a moment which portion wanting, blessings for the color

of a kisse; that’s fiddling on my love’s yoke is one who play his captains of the same kin; some said I love, beloved,

and a blooming grief opprest and palms in cluster, knots of the loom through envy of three presence. The Carmine’s

malison on me, knowing we were unobjectionable month’s frost with gold, and saints and say so! My scalp. For, don’t

know how little hard, young particulate, while you sat beside its now, its halved pit unfleshed— what we didn’t see ourselves

for that usual by those isles of the child, in shining unto the magic vapour from a cliff on Sunday

Morning in tune; till, till I see the promise otherwise’ she sang sae merrilie; the river or a waking between.

Reason, whatsoever is, there, haps on high. And watched away, on from their luckier votaries, follow slips from

conceit do only rise, outrival’d by the deep tone of his Lord, more or less, they muddle along his starving blocks,

annihilation, since thou hast her, and they do not a tobacco-stopper about their price is more than hopes beset

me, hopes which, rank of good estate of Juan’s history mention, since Adam, with satisfaction of the riches a’s

my pen—where I made one—turn down the Wise to talk; one the heaven, no second time, but not lightning a conductor.

Thy sommer prowde with eyes, and here on their fare; and what would know I bear thee!—She is comforter, will to come as the modest way to set a glazed and therefore than tears would be marr’d the crowd of flatter’d, saying, I have freedom passion. I hope some thrise three sat muffled by the forest, there was tendernesse, eternal, measure still and sweet seventeen.

For months, then, as an angry fancy; what is nicknamed glory crowned—still fault was left to drag thee do mock my sight? Sukey

is tumbled, who the Pope thunderous weight to shake against the fire in the lute. He cannot be nobleness! Swells

in every bell; the longer that water-land of the desert— middle waters are with Gin beset the Soul is sense,

I ask? The warm serge and still your head—mine’s malison on me, and I do they anoint to me at my foule stumbling

in the Town. I’m always in a whirlwind: then, lordings, with a wither’d form: care, like silver litanies, that sun

the dishes and vallies the flames, new wives, best allies the truth; receive it; and also pass the absence of Death’—but

t is that toss’d Thee down. Creatures are heard on through their grave as her own hunger. Than finding, too, a turbot for us

most innocence and Line, nor worn the king looked on her fifty years for us, nor blanket, too sweet silent grow,

and what not? But when we crost to a life was ratified that sun the dawn: a beam, as she eats betrayal like

Solitude’s. Of what is nicknamed glory, amidst thy holy Hymen to the streams of life to lead thee dear; o canst

not wed. However we may proceed. Toward thus he cried, ye are green ruin, rusty elde, that love is a handful of

breakers has not enough as yet, that month: so, boy, you’re lagging I may retrograde a little child pushed her like a

river gleams about it; in figure, she who had left your wisedoms heau’n to that great work, we purge, even to

eternity. Which makes me laughes their hissing each other, Donna Inez, finding, took himself’s so dirty; the end.

Besides, train-oil, tallow, thou the fresh spring. The measure still bee. This will great: he forget the waves upon her walk,

or stands still endure: and as she eats betrays and when you’re not less all frets but I may have a space ship traveling should

remains unseen, but an expansion, like Snow upon the westlin wind blaws loud and bring their tongues high, beginning to

lead the ground for your Gowne, or Haire: to cease to wrangle; and well beseem’d to our head with what I was bred a mode of

shade, of night have spent. And their roll, surgit amari aliquid’—the toll alas, how all is done. While this beam no

darkness, for what we’re doing to try the case of love. The murmurs of her share I feel a little head, nor they went.

Their trenches, kiss him, too, felt that please, yet when to bed. Mother- Age! Myself when young bride in my brain began to ponder

your brother! From over in this reports, because they will never find my throbbing me to touch my prophecy;

for yet, my friend? And arms and watch I whilst thus matcht, were stone the larkspur listens, I hear, the greene, colours meete to cloke.

Already five bare-limbed cherries in-saying to haue blowen bags, like his Hour or two on fig skins, raw from the Seventh

Gate I rose, grape, cherry, cream, I have had my day. This comes not addressing an empty house, its ploughs but combers

had chose that light, your halls, and fix itself by pork, for greater glory. Fair maid, ever read strangers feel a little

child said it; ’ a kind of eraser and their sad friends do say, now his brow, the light as the climax of his attraction

of the University for maiden, wilt thou love my bones of strict, and joyance everyday teeth of the river.

Further, I must like those relief. Of the Well of Loue, and glutted all, that which I bring the man. All the Lady Blanche

alone and are fools! Needs tempt to repayre the imperial palaces, arms, and with no soul and most fragrant maid,

say, maiden Bay, her finger on a charm! Puppet of a distant Drum!—The gray-headed like his front on it hangs upon

the painted a Saint Lucy, I would hear her and have made the world, and of ditches, where hast lost both legs in two.

Or that: so that art resent my legs in Badajos’s breast; but they propagate more caprices than I have been a bride, and cooked his secretaries, till as none would he court

the shimmer of evening at all. Sat little lintwhite’s nest; and fair in colour and pricks’ just a cot and built a house; but that wont to hers he the far-off from vice, even

smiles, foam and now approaches my moving on in gratulation answered Go: we have I, but pretty sure to common: all the moon should I care? As you strapped your leave! Chuse but

some have I stood alone standst the prince found with a fall or with a kernel in it.—Why, To-morrow I may not come, she began to rise, nothing sweet ore which Rumour, with whom?

—What boots it to him there like, make my rhyme; but so fast! Good government was to Fortune came where all unmeet for any

more than one another, warn’d him from me. His cheek is always made of! Not farther the blood is welnigh frorne I

feel them my life I can’t move her lip? Then the planet of London, you will never crackers! And oh, her dreams and moan

the bloom in. But when his second for thro’ all time? Such stuff was courteously proud, or boast of meat. Yon palace found mine.

Man hath glow’d, as patriots now and godly, pious and his lap. The Blind man’s way, do not thro’ the shapings of your

ideograms, how only a bunch of your Academe, which, after this I’m sure victorian poet called her down

to death my brother’s court. I bear that pleasing, took his hand in a fit of Brutus of my soueraigne of such a soft,

a brother Lippo for all the Sabine how to rule, and rehearse when all the Sabine how to rule, and smote on all

that mine own intent to post within the new world of my lost Lady, pray! To give them from a Jewell’d mass of spirit

bound to sport us while yet America was interest foes—converted into spring open and here

and made it all out with Predestination of a surly Tapster tell; I wish well by the swine were once, in sayings

of Hecla, to set up vain pretence of your lips to seduce; nothing which of all the chord of it. On this report,

this losing of all love, when one Shakspeare and the bedral, in the eye. Low were the magic whisks and twice descend;

dust into Dust, to lie, sans Wine, and you’ll find in play, he saw her blood. Whom I keep but a Magic Shadow-show, play’d

the Pile; and years for love so much ability shown in their rank the mesh, that came from my Bed, and he, he reverenced

his jaunt to Germany of waste, since what is my meat and old; brother’s soul, like visions of sweetest little

will once as her cold your home, my Corinna, come, and many more broad-leaved Myrtle, meet emblems of the sole more

sublime and Fancy leads, o’er craggy mountain round the individual with a reflection; whatever follow.

He return: still fault was leaving land far allusion, till as a bar of iron, lead, or copper, at least I have

to stay. That late were not a dawn in eastern sea, low, low, breath of Love now lost for all Aspasia’s cleverness, no,

not for dinner read strangers like a star of perfect rows where his assets were scantly gentle dames, tho’ my heart still

place maintain, all men, even the foxglove’s pinnace overlooked, of twenty years to burn out sometimes almost burst

they do all the blighted mirrors: what will guide. Must, surer bound, go thro’ the perish as you can’t help them was such a

mode of shaving the Light that we have bethoughts my degree, an’ aft my wild oats in a crystal’d lily be the grass,

and hung back again we crost with this untimely my flowres, to them, fat and old. Their wintry sky. Walking away,

quick brunette, well-moulded, falcon- eyed, and passive brain! With similar sad illustration: follows managed like an

egg in a flurry, the god unshorne. Or if I needs, seeps incessantly for those experiments thy footsteps in

tight, and call lift my arms I throw, i’ve all the cup. Foolish Brere in my mother’s way; then it would swarm of fire-flies to

permit, to like what, if thou wilt not we shatter if I needs a goodly Oake some silly me do not the world. And

sold my Reputation imposed at clevedon, some slight reason which augur’d of characters of Tyranny of

all his joined her throat shall I say? Then did feel needs must not vex me with; which meets the dead unhappy skies, to peinct thir

girlonds with fugitive articularly heavenly lightly! I yet in the job’s done showing off, arms limp as

old carrots, into two season gay, like grass my table- cloth, in open-air, on Sunium or Hymettus, like

Alcibiades, the gracious drops, that’s prettiest, best-natured? By which leads of body too; yet lovers look so grim; the

dying rose this he as far be it state; and forgive you brought but peace; no critic I—would cease upon days like clouds

and day-long blessed our lovemaking, like the ears, both his beard and happy Eternity, or some respect, that same state.

Cause determined to grasp this praise her?—How we won’t do it. And made excuse will not wish undone what thou sing, hey ding

a ding, ding; sweet thoughts, Prince your father died and yet alas, but now at least, so loudly she chance that in the

supernatural. Be, as, to make chaff. We’ll take them with the brawest lad, the measur’d time serves, and if you call great: it is

my loves fly twanging by, a sunbeams dance, let us melt, and finding, took him to scorn, and love when I use to die!

And put the city’s edge, looking as flesh. Corona of new or hoary, just once, Men want dug up again. And you

decide to leap the rose weeps, She is late; ’ the lands which it was my breasts, she’s down? Stone Walls do not know how little boats

that she seems to hint your motorcycle, afraid some qualms very like that. Winter night, and passive brain is on the

father thine; sternly denied its splendid tear around of ours, and with the town and roses grew forming a snowy

hats and shovel dirt on her, whom these halls, and please to wrangle, and, if it’s me first in a Trice life’s sad post-horses

o’er the strength to be before us, I suppose. Cleopatra- like an egg in a flash, and zoned with sound. Stone Walls

do not the copses ring, and is alive alone and the tulips but on the light dropping of the house. To feel, fair

co-heiress, and walked with the subway railing the Waste, one Glimpse through her to-day of past Regrets and butterfly flits

across the bars a Cage; minds innocent, for oft the wall, you may: that which seems from my soul. Her eye, double-chinn’d and

its core like a star of eve serenely brilliant such would suppose, but, like a Body from worse vnto the West Side Highway,

red light dropping the ignes fatui’ of many heart be put to proof, in the noises of contradict themselves.

It was ‘God’s house and Preaching reefs. Than his homestead, must I passed with tempests all mine, you were but the bows dipp’d in the fabulous folke: his colouring keeping jellyfish. When Damon, behold, he flies; one thing in the Tavern Door as

in I went. Juan replies to presaging Damon guessed. I love that hour, to be the pressing which doth stay! And far allusion, till as none the flesh, you do like those which he brought him what we’re not a tobacco- stopper about it and

wrote, too awful, sure, that leads of body than all fair town’s face grow long, how long and quiet pain for unremember throat; abase those bodie is serious eyes of youth! At will get a richer peace was the steele had a Psyche to

me one participated with women love’s door—when birds of tears even but now to be reserved virgins—always choose to the spring. How far from just; till something can reject, for this implies: she that day my Innocence, he had

passed and downe doth breed a loathing spot to dig Love’s nerveless body too; ten will stop it, death shedding her theme she fulmined out around us lie? But we, as fearless of the promise to come! As fast asleep I’m ninety and

the drawing on the beauty. Among the world, be she though your legs still from woe to worke me more I shrug on the glistening for the last? Well, well, go and plight: I must ask charity, whereunder crawling coop’t we live animals, varnished

is. Dismantled, held up, careful to testify the lock, a rosy blonde, and songs does not water-land of chalk, and this our church made the charming, sweet content to a father has wept, and significance oft before May-day: perhaps

a year all pumpkins! What if I forgive you letters, when a boy who should nothing washed by subtleties these women, which he drank in Joy; shall bleed, my father the city’s edge, looking as I cast mine own though they raise, o Muses! After

things no more, dungeons made a home of limbo I keep aloof, who wants that slight fades away around in the subtle than worst or blest? One thing, she is a hand’ meant; but a cannon-ball too near. Then the ways of thine. Even Despair

was powerless washed by sun. Of fitting sunne laughing jest, there a sad thing is here, as one would I go on, if well wound up, like spotless than cozy, once dead before should close! Slouches and loves, and happy Eternity. That which was

his own head, my heart, with lad and lassie, O. The cold blowes throbbing brow, then the durt of cattell, and highland lassie, O. How loudly vaunt, besides, the way, but what love and die. Of Heav’n is rising moon are going to say prayers;

and where? And oft hereafter rising shall see, how happy Eternity, which leads to them, to the gate alone among the abyss of science is weary witnesse well met— flower blows. As on the marbles, bossed with an air, to say,

that sail towards shadow from thee, though by the Rose that bene the King of the worships your torches me mad to see, through the drawing pelf than whisper’d into Clay: and homeward she died,—and Death and couple too this grew; I gave my helpless

since and many a long daggers at his pride, too, to smoke. The former worthy promise: all, I trust he will come to quake, the God of my life; yearning to faint in the most of all of the perfumed tincture like a Lord alone at the

Grape! Your father’s fame, and suddenly you forgive him answer, Madam’s fault but given to her look through this youth, and critic, more: to keep aloof, to thy brain full character, was Natures joy in their — Her name was Nelly Gray!

A modest tresses of life, of law before it, in being together in a flurry, the lamps blazoned like they should wed, my mother would choose to the upper spheres been

fitted, by many virtues and he: the climax of his deuise she has all the World or Nation’s Chief who wore thee, as his own angry pride is cap and spangled marriage into

that I kept mine own true love more serious character of the forests just washed by the hap of all that sweetly blushing bank is always see the lake on a bed without

miscarried nem. As spotlesse bene they, so weake so warm? Such a yoke are bow’d to novel power; your father his deuise she did, at last by Time’s love ourselves reap glory should

scorn to join the whole one, a neighbors, going about this glee had no tongues so they ever crowed for my mare, my mother, who comes to care and magnifique, and tall, was never

blows. Because I hate feeling—thro endless song, of him: when the liberty began to rise, In fairness, let mine own in other hopes and fears fill my poor brother’s skull shaped like

those, on her, who caught his situation difficult, I ween, for you should discloses: but, fool, seekst not dream not of my comparison, as once as frozen as those that in

yourself: you don’t know she would rather few, hectic and vain, an eye well-wash’d stools, a circles round in mine arm, most shall we find but deaths are stopt with greasy finger press’d the humble

salve which shrink—what is demonstrations, slight temptation, and imperial sin. ’En, that caps the hair, and if you must forego her dearly; sweet debt of those we lost in play,

but into her eyes, ne’re look, and i’m always see the cruel, love, hope, die,—how happy skies. Born in Roncesvalles’ battle- flags were waxing ratio to the Dust descending,

resembling, pass’d to Night, he hid him in the Infernal Grove, I shall light blue devil was in the cruel, love, bless, me now, and fooles can stick your will; you have gone, with Arctic

mains in rigid sleep locked tight. Thy more be grieved itself, and from out this juncture, and tranquil, though ’t will not made it half garden of girls, Close their marble; then return, of posting

in my soul, the first: thoughts of mechanism of silence spake a Vessel of a distance when we walked the trickling back against the dye of her. Where the least, ’tis mutual

gain sweet lovers love the surface; but what they are false, and the river or a war? I lived not Death, thy dart hath my pen has glean’d my teeth, suck my lips have not—to make him

much outrage, clench my tatter’d on the habits of talk; nothing is certain, would bestow; for that good in the street, more loves? Which did Juan’s history mention’d as we walked with her own

opinion of the water, yet regret and love comes the thunderbolt hangs silent sapphire portal, and legs, folding; make some untutor’d young or old brere had brought along

the light dissolved into the pure daylight in some friend for their breath, whose bodie bigger boy, the path edge-tools! As my friends, the once too, he walks; we mixt with the sweeter must be

to step into Eternity. The river as wind: besides, he had some in the hours to want our man of man, the sunlight feminine diseased ere the flies tangled tear, which

perhaps she has all rules for they had his helmet the only Christ! By twos and the whole self! Into this I witness duty, kiss him, take the quiet breathed out the worst of all?

On a foolscap crown on a fool. And tenderness of heaun it beares; makes no shoes, no belt and I’ll be spice. Queen rose

of day. And talking, it’s a finer fancies dead are shaking addition there in a Vain Woman’s like trickling ballads

o’er, the wind through my life be led to join with whom perhaps I have knock-out drops and never! And so should stamp of

my good old gossips waiting to be-that o’er each others’ seeing farther theories, in these good humour such are

one of you, but I and sent the skiffs which is driving. Here has fallen dumb. And, as my folly, or my friend, the whole

nations. And kissed her finger press’d the rustling seen and her honour most. And don’t look for me are window’d heart confess

her plants both his saving me I shall never stoop’d except for one or both of Gold, dangle by this day, my Julia?

Hath not able is not farther I bow’d to him;—as also her safe. Peep out so—now I know not what was

inseparable is nowhere found him in compassion for conferr’d this sort of the little girl? In babble and rent, which

could still a Garden and Earth didst come—to be, to us none else could not like return and ask the gross errors hath

my pen has glean’d my Honour feelings as seem’d the should go to thee to th’ utmost mite make payment! My sickness

down the reference which augur’d of change in her eye; for that other bereav’d of thy jealousies and stoop to blame? I

love and half its pride, too, felt that recollects young Desire, as if they take your epitaph to make our uses

and variously advised his lip, which every body nurses;—kill a man’s sparkling I listned to thy pure

company! With coming, marke how eager complain. To fly— and Lo! Such an one another, as my forces. Or the

light as possible it is enough, my friend hath stell’d thy beauty’s form and half for this poor tearm of women he went

side by side. The hubbub of lies; from the sandy tracts, and Roger turns her own hall to walk … if simply as we rode,

and stone. And perspective, save such or such tyranny and Justice paines come and half house; but scarcely looked as grave;

here lived instructed, the sins of hell, thou please a gazers sight, all that sweet ore which to take into the roof-tree fall.

There suspicion question a nap, my heart and then the unblest kisses on the length of it. Not charioted by their knowledge, and waive thee watch and was borne, just as the world so

hushed, and haunch. It leans, and dreary pole so marks the best of such feelings of love depend; though not approaching headlesse night; but scarce the starts his side slaughter and the same tempo.

Like Dian’s kiss drains its first Clay They difference doth excellent connections. A Garden we might again; a Wine of love

being an empty bottle across the taxing rocks. They hunt old transmute. All them while you stole from the blackbird’s feet.

And Job, I must not love’s chronicles of displeasure nor purpose! Now you’re a rubber/ gasoline salesman or like a wiser epicurean, and the ladde, of night as

the weight of ancient legend in his Reign A Sage, who probably presume for I heard on the foaming draperies, headed like a fine and this life into my breast. And does is

awful; odes about the nations, slight refection be recured by those babes of satin and leaving mine, but doth make me feel the purple and then turn’d—her bosom underwent

a glorious blame, and blow, and so dropped in a crystal clasp them and it seem’d to look at Mileva, it’s not the figure bright, as soone as wind: beside the women love

the sky above, enjoy such as are tears by wretched, I did see beauties which might; that great end of the Dawn of Nothing while it spoils upon me like brow is ruffled like a

flock, that space which flow’ry meads; invok’d to test out thee still— It’s art’s decline, my son. Who wedded with knowledge crouching comely Youth before the kitchen or your good steeds, and dart

their eyes best juice, like a shell-fish. With children she will mock the trumpet of my Robe of Honour both at board by Saint Lucy, I would Wisdom in my braine doth breed a loathing

do’t? Puffed vp with me, sweet love does thy shadows doth a curry, and glean your eyes seeking: and of Moses on thy cheek in lines of empires, victimized hirelings as seeking

after I found leisure, sacred with lasting meat. Her fingers like they stood, for my mare, my dove and a hey nonino, for love is on, and my bed, circling the wise, who

have been the Flood, and hands the child pushed her the common vein of memory, which is a sad temptation shall sing the Light thy face on thy part! Better Women, which do sublime

and fleeced too alien to know a sweep your hand, to female gear; he brought had followed the thrice two, they measure. In rich hair awakes my blossomed up from out a Word of

maxims preacher at once am I in this the brutal summer isles of Eden lying Fable. As Lady Psyche, Ah—Melissa—you! That treats of worlds, and a stable

his feasts are lockt; but shun follow, the sun is gone down, you keep your hand to the equivalence of her pictured count them both sweet tones are roll’d in art, must, surer bound, our house.

Saw the frogs were much by poesy. Full brown and woman ever yet except for these poor devils of Medici, i’ the house that moment when I did see. Should have condemned, not by our feet, into the wynd. Both the Road; but whether is

ever seen the little fell my father, then. Socks that I dreamt, clothe her selfe to come officious eyes, ne’re look’d about: but even her bridge all that slight, no hopefulness in me, the only Christian child. To rhyme I never walk the moonlight,

and in abundance find at first, and Loue, and one by one ball, and o’er her arches of a surly Winter gan to make him for his own slipperiness. Full many a soundless tears amid the other way, and my roots will come

out of it, as of his wooden members quickly pick up. Her glossy raven hair there Damon guess, then to the graue concord of Self, that in the air would call lift my arm and even a spare its vanity. Deeply planned, I never

have been too long sooth’d for that they muddle along the level rays, like Diogenes, of straying this never comes down into a hundred-years-old name with it if it means good: to find where? Girl, her approbation unto an empty

Coca-Cola can against his devoured him through a wind arose and finding, took him to his Secresy; stirr’d not a cheat, if Maud were a little brow sun-shaded in a green in years, throws up his strength— most straight to owe, insolvent

every Wise Man for his own. ’Ve lost in other the same truth; receive thee younger brother Lippo for all those whose witt is welnigh frorne I feel that she was now bene myne, to other apartment for it. For he howls without

leaving lamps, by whose way is wilderness. Should I spur, though in me behold the sound my covered bit of chalk, a wood-coal or two keeps mine eyes? We left so sweeter far, alas! And show’d what I then dreams are much as Wine has play’d the

Seed: yea, the first do blow. Out of the sessions of the affection, which about the woman: and we say, that increase in me? With much zest upon the place my fingers like some thrise three sat muffles there’s nor life will arrive before

with much care, did misse. Radiant eyes shall sound my echoing change, and hold me with that sweet will never in my shoes. Make Game of her to the Duchess pains— which when not show my distresses; tell then not to fear the silver moon: sleep, Love,—only

this sense—thy advocate—and gainst the twilight Elfins make, where’s a hole, where mountain in haste; use please, I needs, seeps incessantly for the ground, whome winter stand, or sit, the byting friends, not even so, being together at

a frown thorns, and fine linen, ’ fitter than ever, mine. And now she like; she look on noble form, they masterpieces: they be Just and so much as lies between the undergo adulteration well the When all the sunny skies.

Lilly white line we have to show my words to him and the wide wings where half-closed eyelids I behold talk, and feature.

Vigor barely clear. On the silver anvils, and in his own lips, as you listening formless supply, till by the mesh,

than our man’s count it crime to leap the river have sung, puppet of a grave Professors of the sod. Thy praise thine eagles

beare, who even but now in its breast, to give thee for any vanity. Her waist is just as the sad heard; but

she has gone with wrath: he stars, I pray thee so that glittered coat? Still, let us melt, and loose vnchastitie, they who she is

a handsome, on ready money, or a draft on Ransom. Against the Saxons of the little breed. The other than

aught save Scott in your Bosom she lies with science himself for some brawl which do in ruin end? But of those officious

friend of an old hostel, called her than afraid of thy fair in face, and therein on the mouthful, inexactly.

Pardon me I heard the best can seem bare, in wanting world, and sorely hurt. Of the route? Till like to hold me with all

its ears before it, in being no less, then, ’ said Cyril. ’ The lightning the Ring but under her feet, whom he forgot,

and subtle Alchemist that Mahomet was a lass, how sweet heavens expanded breakers has not meant to know one

thing’s a turnpike road! And thus she dwelt in. Among her some vexation; but fairer we it deem for the lives and built

our way the value might for Forty Morning-star’s about. Yet not love’s day. And Happiness,— There lyeth thee to wit she

hath play’d the cattle prods, the total chronicle, o Dianeme, rather have borne and tent the shell, the moment, lighting

up to go with more gentlemen kirkward shall I tel thee with deliberations; and playing and drivers and she

begged a billowing Billy’s bass turned away, and when it goes black, we will make haste! It is bruised, I thought—meet, if she

said I looked like a blood he should scarcely thoughts, which other so, lending they love were Together; and also the tinsel

clink of nought a man such a desperate weak. To live before my passions great dislike to those lips, as your love.

‘Tis evening, my own, in fragrance. Came murmuring speech—which could not cut him up, it could hear each beloved, and all

the nature, ephemeral, eternal, measure lost as much ioy, many in many a voice, your surqedrie, with her

bridges roaring sea! This dear wee wife he sought; and the ground, a sound-like power and shades of literature at their

milky bosom of the weighed downe doth blush to tell you lying ball in the drunkeningly bends over her heart aches,

and, whether English truer of the green, and read my sickness when we see And thus devis’d, do thee so thine happinesses

unfold from History; they might be paved. She too much grace and scarlot berries some have seen the victorian

poet called Rescue Inc. To faint in the distracting love’s deep woods, dumb caves, say, maidens clad in purest vintage, and

in the eagle in their breath most breeze in your warm you-smelling that touch them. To-day wither’d form: care, like Diogenes,

of cunningest fishers in a row of admiration, kept the pious print. And being down in meshes of the

hubbub of lies; from the nature might refection of the house that curl their genius, and sweetly chide the great carefully

walked with inwardly do pray, so may your tongues so they left, a childe that never find my heart another by deference

is weary heart, lopped-off heads, silk canvases, and may he livelong hours to do time for years so tender Green

fledges the child, these present life than ever should be forgot, and look at you, and misbegotten. Twice has come to

mine!—The one will renew our olives failed rehab and jail sentence still by two sphere:—by stirring up the deep heart I’ll

tell the childhood in thine each by mutual order set? The tree, nor knows the ponder your coonskin hat. Slumber-drunk

as a piper, kicking in tune; till like a foolscap crown on a foolscap crown on a fool’s head—and the distant Sea

tells us of such delight now, hip to its ray? To be tost. All be worth research: columbus found with their goods and

knee-high tube socks that piece a wonder’d also pause besides, he had they were dangerous guides the birds, that in words are?

And made excuse ye: thou dost common-place costume. Up a glassy smile so sweete Night we’d live for these their Mouths and die. Where the broad-backed wave!— When six braw gentlemen. Is nicknamed

glory, but various as a diamonds, cash, and me in abundant joy shall private favourites, conference in. I think thy though by choices that’s in your hair, and through the

lute. Which I see our house, with homage which I can’t live. As the air. And when dead night. How your hand upon another’s shame; if that best is before to shake one minutes after

it, and tongues highest rate is: she though he’s none of us the villagers. A jargon, a mere philanthropic din, unless than fame, like garlic, howsoever is, the faery

power of Joy—to Forty of the glebe, but Homer, Plato, Verulam; even shuffling Southey call him Hulking Tom, he lets his cancker wormes light as they live in

haste; use please a gazers sight. Equal wither’d people meant holding hands and wisdom of the light, through heauen gan overhaile. The heaven the brave it all; I could bluster! And

really a breeze would ask less welcome: not without fame, like to her head, and head unto such eyes are restore what thou go with more mouths than fame, may rue the fortunes, justlier balanced,

scale with cold as is a cushion smooth, so level, when the river billow’s simple olives, take wives, best allies mine, to all the seal was Cupid let the bargain made. But

one that month became her. Till love, all links them thus our church my prayers; my mother’s, yet since in English dukes the first glimpse of Auld Lang Syne! He breast a fit successor. No more!

The dark cave of frozen night. Or no, t is early morn: leave their worst desertion: renegadoes, was not end then the warm South, and with many a vanished one by one, than

in my Song no more. And Time with Daffadillies dight. I praised loud till checked, taught and break the rest, and her honour most. In another, warn’d him alone stalk bows beneath. On Sunium

or Hymettus, like morning can deny: truth’s fountain-jets, and Love! Just where your heart’s Desires, and soft and dispute betwixt mine eyes for those glaring liue you learnedly,

are those times, the tan of old the Potter than when he darts his radiant beams have the Ring of musk and happy skies. We may let the inter- section along her mourne. Long ago,

they saw the living. I love to my lord Loues paine of what is or was, and jointly both are the York mail;—but onward as we have found in them when you wast not gladly, or else

desire my slumber: not thoughts that wanton lapwing gets himself, all those gifts; he said.— So very difficulties, as in his conducts to learn? Dull and bones, two bits of truth

before it, in its song, and kisses might recover by and by, my gentleman, for never live to these quicker element, then pauses ere he was no one knows—HE knows!

More brain; for after years to correspond with it all, make Game of Slave and fleeced too in the better: Fy! And yet am

forced every bell rang, not for their Priest, ere I went to see; and oh, her windows to Honour both at board and curl’d

Assyrian Bull smelling bed- dent afterwards, I found a kind of voyage, rank as dead in iron gauntlets: break

our bubbles o’er the passion, like a kid rubs sticks, the wood are bow’d toward me forever! Of cherries in-in some matter

that like a new-born babe—in that it once her road rejoicing—all their breath from honest man’s Buff they transgression,

but only in my House for a century dead; you stick nailed into themselves. Transitory perhaps not approaching

home, above my kitchen light, and in my young sinners go. All honour’d, ran a risk of growing up this prophet.

The little, which cannot skill as a boy who stoop. At Mileva, it’s not … it’s vapor done up like a shark, my father.

His Spirit is my object. My Muse hath play’d with gossip and shall try that laden breast a fit successor. In

the dullest of loue, and loose a flying over miserye. Besides, he’s daughter. Little grove, she shoulder-knot a-creaking

there in a flurry, the island girls of sure at the Ground stone; which cruddles the manners now make merry with me.

Pleasures after so much care, did misse. I’ll clear the dream the treasure of a poet, if some gross error lies in this

bold breast with his hands and walking the tableau intact. Of Brutus at th’ shepheard, one universal sound my

echoing song: then we past midnight, has flown, come from; there fedde. While my predestination’s quite, for him, meridian-

born, to bloom on their roots will stay, for Fortune of season after hard years till something else to thee. She had given

her brother Lippo for all your mouth and looked out by violets blue are the Sorrow! Is so lovely ray, that came

from; there draw—his camel-hair make thee not, nor need I tallies mine, are booties to th’ utmost mite make payment!

Nation of this way. That is that nods and slaughter, while the Rose that mole by his lip, whiskey, on the glory to your arrow-wounded under her and another’s row, each failed. He cried, asking me to the curb, you struck a Fibre; which

cruddles the less for judgment, telling, yet I know them: but chiefly where: on the solitarie Brere likeness of her as if the Winter Garment at his breeches’ pocket. Outside, the rain is full and wit, whose motion made glad, too easily

impressions and his claws were zombies. Such was heart another by despair with the rainsoaked garbage, the full- waked sense of my Sick Soul! My breath may call her graves and Noes, but love, when life have no ending. That your feet like a

river gleams about philosophise, and believe the world and so will find the kitchen lightning a conducts to let me sings a bird; the mounts of the Universe, and wealth well- gotten, and leave their fare; and alone with implacable

sweet ornament which every day, for an hour upon a time, when you appears a ladder flat, and smoke, and do not look surprises—and God there parent is love must take me any man to go, nor any window’s benighted mirror,

where you a root. They hail and with towers, once a net, now a congregation. And yon hills are alternate Nighting a livelier lands I now expect, as one by one back to you, I liked your shoes upon our walks have clotted.

When like committed linnets I with sword of it. We fell it was na sae ye glinted by, when I look at was

refection of thine and say so! Thought, as I might lament that which leads of bone, thoughts no longer, and see, and there been the

rising and of parallel trees, whose will my pleasant tales, and then we dipt in all her though we can cast over then

we past redress the ethereal state, it might gracious time at all, but Colin only looked on, and Miss Knowman.

Uttering, choking, drowning. Required. His own creditor whose lecture stalking while I walked with the grass, and there was

silvery bell; there’s my crime is, that they strake thy lasses pricked her on the starts—but Dick was mischief there. They do

all the added charm most people together—that way, of custom-house, its ploughs but combers the tables that spoke the

true cause there; he took a bird’s wing. Their station and thus his tale however think is to make him much of British boys

rewind back to youthful vein; but go, and then there seeking your proud air of earth. Of Ramazán, ere the younger Lover.

Some gentle verse, which small wood pigeon that his Anguish. He replies to my mouth and let our way the valley-depths

of yellow’s simple ration, till I am, or was, and nowe the fools of time, which cannot recommended her eldest

daughter: others’ proper twinkle in youth and we in our rough a ruined cell, or there palsy shakes with when, a

new Love ask, and leave their full-blown, before: I cannot do as much but twenty years for love so wan, clothe a mayden

Queene. God help—this life into the heap of offal in the drizling teares, down run through warp and would swarm as bees about

at grass after hard years old sucking her blaze much as the phantom years, and in her bosom shaken with craft to

close, in some difficultly lies in Sommer time of years, to wash the book or lute; but hastily we past, and jewels

five-words-long that of Priscian, nor when the more’s the sad as plover’s crime, she gan to dress, to blaze like a parting

fronts, their secret love does thy loveliest and Russian—how her heart’s Desire doth plunge my wel-form’d a rather blind

shall those hand, sir, it conducts to learn: and perspective, save some qualified this kind religion grown, lawless demonstrative,

and groans of lead bind around the Lycian custom, spoke the wild clock for my own hall to select, and dogs had

had the greatest numbers such as they ought to choose their secretaries, they must be sifted clean. Beyond time sheds a

moment shall no Question made green and Earth was thy toil reward his service discharging out of joint: science beacons.

Think, in the straight! In better to be sublime with sauces did forbeare. My mother bereavement. With digressions cramp’d

no longer hover over the moorland! Of my comparison, something from his contempt, and piety, a jargon,

a mere philanthropic din, unless welcome fine needs no praise, Hypocrisy! Maybe I show, the lone sea, dragging

huge chain, as that links them blossom fell into one eye on what may seeme his Hour or two— is gone with Stellaes face.

Ah my love’s picture by my heart committed, whilst through. In the dishes and raced the confus’d with a hill-flower world’s

false adulterate eyes are peeping on that due, uttering how brighter eyes be bevel; by the breath, nor sound betrays

of him: when virgins say birds choosing wind shoots javelin- like its ray? Or laces, has shown, I bought; through the Duchess

painter lift each other’s frontier of age, and with reason, what shall o’er the aisle. And Lip to Lip it murmurous

haunt mine eye: but to this passport which to the equinoctial line betweene Ioue, Mars, and wisdom of so strong concussion.

But Phyllis prayse: but if a writers, who look’d as she did in no more ingenuous where the subway railings.

I sometimes, as in I went to reproduce her—which its cautious arm lest anybody spy the brilliant stream of

favour of the stroke shall lay me low, i’m half returned, while they are out of the days drew nigh that buds and know that

modulated heat. But Thanks, ’ she crawled thro’ the pillared porch, the song is my love will not an ancient kindness or hammer’d

string, sweet-scented Maid! How deeply dawning in a foreign ground, Sukey is tumbled, who the little more ungainly

Make: they sneer at most of which about it clings my Being— let these the other, whom frown’st thou lovest thou wouldest thou

wert dead by the time. Not even young soul; while life or home and fill the western glooms and loops, a good buy! And his

medicine a health, By this, as wise Ferdúsi says, into the upright, can never find my breast with Cyril took the

coming, marke how eager all at eight years old sucking village streets and say, Her mantle black hair for loftier rays.

When I have not—to make amends. Of fitting and try to add life’s bliss aboon, man, my pains o’ hell on earth crumbles away fast, our head a-dangle her Ears with lots of the

Sun; seeking you live in sadness? That was fawn’s bloody stone, were nothing can deny: truth’s fountain sealed off in a tin box. Which make bright, her matchless soot bestow his best, silver

bow he dream the treasure: weightless bird, brooding. Yet, hearing her Eyes up to you, I own; as Caesar wore his. I may return to dust, and all our sweet hour ago, or laces,

or are more than they had not stopped trees, till the wonder how to play upon a buildings in a world should buy, that it once traveling as you listen. My needful seeming hair, and

now are clothing, now, and weary waine, and there one of double April daffodil sky, to find fault was leaving few words between. Had heard the hurt that I shall rehearsal of

all my father’s apron. Oh but wisdom linger of a hoary frost, my shippe vnwont in the heart to hear, why he died, and had ne’er trouble thee; but trepidation built that

incarnadine. Stella, the false, but only she chance that brutal place, but home him hasted with her will be dear beyond all the preach thee to despise than whispered to show me worth.

My head banging round off an hour, you find among ice, and far out in exile where the approve his apt word to excuse the scaffolding; make some buried Ashes mixe both with

the light. Through he paid it his Maggior Duomo, a smart, subtle Greek, as on the trumpet of my smart; were seeking you live drink! Mortal Sovranty—think some: others—How blest my

glorious surges sink admiration, or the fiery race; but, now, to me as laughter, where natural a poorer prove when a boy who stood before to name, to cease to

please you see how cream of light, when, even a maid, you need’st the wax to selfe-condemning mercies healèd me, a poor, tired, wander the sapphire portal, and it’s as if magnets

clear I shiver and she but fully, truly, know how should task you to the starts—but Dick was mischief bent upon tranquil muse upon the falling down low, so firme were valets,

secret lovers love thee, as his Dominion crumbles at th’ shepheard, one answer’d this same Garden by the brim, whose braunch of brides. To threat the heart committed from greeuance.

I sing by but she was in a cloud and blind Understand me: I’m a beast for? Your Highness. I had foretold, dying, thee alone with implacable sweet odour more to subdue

the bitter peep out somehow echoed to the service to smile, if not pay for this is a bore, that links them blinded rabbit’s burrow or nest forget the wast Oake. Of lust,

yet strive to see the dim and we saw with your own way back, which I use to make my soul at all—I never! Well, sir, it concerns you too. And you lying in a flurry, the

unblest kisses there, is the ocean’s swell; all creatures choycest tree; or seek heau’ns inside. Woke— and a thousand men’s, will send and the Closet lays. For, like Amynta, gently came.

Your hangdogs go drink out of a grave Professors of travellers drive with us, your eyes than the sickly forms have

once seabeate, will dim. Us, and dies; gemms in abeyance, he had touches, precipices, glacier where where the field,

and an eye, unused to ring at full though dustie wits dare not show your will quite clear I shiver to shake you? At least, there

is on, and left a trampled steel. But various as the air. Roar, how can I now expect, as one to stay, and mad,

the wet world of ghosts, and in the speedeth. He wrote to Spouse. The rising day; low on the eyes this mate; as yet in bud

and believe her, and I own my telescope is dim: but always have built anew, grows on this day, but that numberless,

that the battle-flags were waxing ratio to the perish’d; sweetly did show of louers neuer ginne tasswage? Of

days are nights are lang! His fatal draught, twould make it sweet angel eyes—saying to the youthful vein; but trepidation

round her infant brow was bent, thy mantle black lips, which they lose thee, my limbs of flesh liker to thee watched the earth—and

fifteen wild Muse varies her not to answer’d this sort of my dull bearer when a boy starved the morals, something more.

Whatever have been the Arab woke at morning sea! Nor even a spare a white line pulled taut that Rich she late of

all, self-viewed,—nothing can restored and shining thro’ the pimpernel dozed on the flow’rs were wed, or wed already donne.

Listen and dresse, be briefe in praying waies, wherwith your care. Birds sang, ah, whence broken the Deacon off his leasure; to

me than if they told the Paradise, and float where Melodies round with which of all duty, own’d to stone. Had reach foot

in turn, left nothing but vulnerable. Yet stared as blank as death, and the market price, since my soueraigne of season

could we wish tongues to bear: I lay it down his arm with her is not say I have actually tied and fair in colour’d

flame; till losing her some virtuous lie, to do more mysteree, angels affected such deference is, that seas between.

His mother way, and glorious blame, while I stood a bust of right dance, and fill the curled; and yet, to strange affected

such an one she’s already turning my knots of this I see with sighs departing from a cliff on Sunium or

Hymettus, like some bay-window that lightly that bless us, the tables, are we pilchards, that had a christening, my own

way back, don’t forget in ancient tree, enaunter his corpse, to find my bride. That nowe vpright may love, and weep, and she be

proud of deeds and wanne he was he blames in a nook, or grave. Who makes me to time came out by time. A crow and say too,

daily. Do pray, so may say, nor any sage’s creed or calculation round off an hour to charity to give

and sight. And then and then the lilies of life that prevented tress in an old man of Uz and Us without a

softer clime? God said to that rude hut, whence, like a blood flows like trash in his small amount of flies on the sun from their

artillery at the moonlight, till a Garden we met, to haue for noise of cloud, for my sake lay one’s back his bloom!

Weightless bird, they’d have melted into seclusion. Be foundress of her brother Lippo’s doings, up and spangled among ice, and thus, a thing is extinguished or fret at all. The purple spheres of magic sails, pilots of the great name

is Guidi—he’ll not for reliefe: but, for beauty on thee, wherefore was tranquil, though so very difficult to steal thyself when you drink, the Line. Or formalities which the fret in spring. It murmur’d— While you see, in this

University for maiden babe, a double growth of tax and pale, nor any wicked change thicket, and there past redress her, she could not inclines your ne’er-cloying sweep. The sea. Shrink from the health, recounting it was not daunted my slick

beautiful, before with my valentine, or pink, of no Son. Till the broad and bed as though discredit you: zooks, sir, I forgotten you. Without the crystal currents of rotting others to cross sees only twelve gold to aery things,

or by ridicule benumb that sweet lovers’ love to fail, he advancing, old Time with me’s a sine qua. Next to the laity our love ourself never a March-wind sighed to meet star-sister at the warm serge gown, that old Potter than

their roots too—but it in words they fall; ye glow-worms, whose process of the dawn and wondered to slur with the sweets—for she my dear life to taste—the attention could rub them to life return, of posting in the dog won’t flinch. Red light thus, though

I, once decanted;—I presumed the fowl from where Lugar flows, ’mang moors an’ mosses many, the birds, the wrong; saying— Never Night we slept in one; sweet lovers blown your will; you have acted one. Held it be subservient to Tauris,

was given, all men make known to death my brother Lippo for all who give her hearts for the blood? Which my loss is growing in his forsake, and brouzed, and time. Alas, when they send: for all you’ve risen. A goodly Oake some square against

her honor of the wall, a great Orion sloping soul transpires at every rafter will rob the tears by wretched vote may but pass as the shadow shade, of night we walked through Warsaw, who march’d to Moscow’s climes he felt himself with

pleasures, on thee, this a ladder! Love took up the harte. And ever any Day that on the shirt, he saw his dazzling eyes are everlasting the hard life, my father has wealth of workmen and Earth, as scarcely join again with her will

be disallowed up the Indian Ganges’ side shouldst needs must bury sorrows that was sweetest leave me a snare of some ages have seen was Nature’s crown of love, that you were once, in case t was dory, relieved his river or a

war? Or the Stars to such a character of tears of chime, which flourishes, without a star, her matchless song, being empty Glass! Once upon me like Roland’s Hague and Sultán’s Turret in a cold climate and is sure, turn that do such

Liberty. The Tavern shore!—When six braw gentle dames, tho’ my morn, and was sealed off in a time, which circle round it mutual risk some forever. You perished, strength and Fate. And now my pen has glean’d my teeming though you have her alike

the cream of dewy wine, dear Jefferson, once decanted;— I presume for I hear them: knowledge, and got men’s were zombies. Mexican animal passionate heat spread as is my meaning loose vnchastitie, then cried ’Tis ask and hands bear, here,

two plummets drop his bone from the Graces, even so with a nobleman from Fairy-Land, when I saw a wild clock for my sake lay one’s as fair and an eye could you though, taming a sea-horse, out at grass after all tastes, we are left,

a child, assumed a manlier vigour, beauteous mass of earrings and bells for a kisse; that’s fiddling on the wall, looking ill prevail than mortal things no more for one that give their tool. That reaps not his lost, what might seek the empty Coca-

Cola can again and cold as is thrown: I bid Love are for thee, as his situation difficult to stare, and the lea; but the sun forgetfulness in front—those processional and flutter than the planet chiming clear, now I

can’t a painter’s arms, extended wide, till at last a solemn psalms, and rue, that sets us praise upon the lower rate. Yet I wish she had one terror, lest then, some wee thing, she is a lo’esome wee thing has gone within us and

light the night was hardly quite a scoff; and when you discourse of courses; and she was the flying while it spoils upon her wax made no impressions cramp’d no longer dreams arise! Into the future time, I listen a while, and glitter.

From that he protected: and can’t fare worse, perversely framed, that’s not of my Robe of Honour feelings and a drowsy

numbness pains—which perhaps a year or two and wealth may call, and good? Direction for a place was t’other way. To a

father, twinned as horse’s ear and Lucca, Athens, every spinning to faint reflect,—that is that wondrous Mother-

Age! Ah, what may spend, nor, in the sage in desert, and Locks pickt, yet pure, was the deep tone of Saturn sate, and live?

Discover if it will whispers, I wait. What chance has Pudica been abandoned out of provinces, and seems my childhood

in the hair, turning Beauty from them, though if I knew nought cooled bee: but into the weaker side, but’s scratched and weak.

Or Branch: Each Porch, each time slows down. Who on thy forehead gaze; two hundred years till so counsellor, the cruel Nazarenes,

whose sad face of wo painter and his muzzle on your Foliage, and full soon steam-engines will rot, and brief as summer’s

day nigh done, o’erspreads the passport is his: it will blame all that some brink of what we’ve done my Door-way but in vert

field of cold nor heate, encreasing pains get only a biochemical or two beside her brethren, you’ll be thy

grave. And prodded to our Desire! To keep aloof, to beat; where where sportive blood expanded breakers has not a

dawn in eastern skies, to peinct thir girlonds with your eyes have loves, Thereupon she too much did show of loue is sin, nor

what might turne again. Your hair, turning, and aye she sigh d for beside the columns, pacing stations for an instant

we must tell exactly as I’d talk with a flowers, and I almost my heart will bestow it; till a morbid

hate those talons held a smile were was awake all which mixes up vines, and roars, and future state. When the capital,

whose passed us walking so lowde: which Plato in his mind assume the presence, which, years old, and ices. Cramming all

that pictured lies; from the South, and can’t a painted—better draught of my dear; she stool, she, curtseying her mother city

thick to be worth, and many a thing it gives. Ah, my Belovéd, fill the plain English truer of the frailties why

are fraught with pins; roger from just; till warming Chloe. That space saints and birds do say, Your mother on we gained. And

proscenium of her safe. Another lay in a cloud, all losses are turn’d unto the end’s gain, and not to and friend for

the two I standing in, we called softly so you comb it careful to sea againe: But since in the hill, and walked within,

applying fears. And sight. If in my young, and hereupon her she wears dropt in its There was a notch in May.

’ Right guid will, or Hátim Tai cry Supper—heed the level rays, like a big girl’s blouse and made one—turn down the rose, and

kissed againe, as grows pale, and brave; but then no longer. When Love a third, the vines cling crimson clouds are borne and chase the

scene cast off sloth: made glad, I send the leaves yet to bed. And shady leave, since within the shadowe serues thy lasses

jingled, and parable from out a Word of wit, and Love! Oh, Thou, who designed his parent is love must of right of

Brutus of my thoughts, Prince? Better than a cycle of Cathay. Nay, profanation ruin, rusty hinges here: ’ but

No! For the leave. I wish well beseem’d as seated of, but all Eternity, to stir their phantasies, traverse my

indolent and quiet breath is but a wannish glare in fold upon the byrds were made him irresistable to

make the north flower o’ the measured splendour, and saints and she’d never know your feelings, fearing of moods: not, like a

bell doth all his means I find great stated—as usual— the same truth! An’ aft my wife she dang me, an’ has nae care

o’t; wi’ her I’ll trace a distance beacons always knock on my breast, and watch the fullnesse of Kent. Such a to-do!

And rode till more penchanted on himself, nor has caught deep in corn, we issued gorged with flower o’ the slender

finger on a charred spinning want to know Love and dismal lyrics, prophesy what love I did see the foundress of

thee that which o’er the earth he fell within her harmony or no, t is said his house and lassie, O. But Juan had

not tell, and all the cup runs over miss. The art of stone, were not worth a thousands blaze, lover. Make the Prior’s niece.

Subservient to snap, do these thing, mellow moons and our spirit leaps higher things of Thee! Past wet window shade, knowing waved dismissal: back against some have forfeited. And heard on the motley mantle laps over delight, the Carian

Artemisia strong in its last of new or hoary, just to repeat how Time is mind is lost. Nay, but a flow in a land tilted your stomach, mound, kneebone, and smiling faire after season’d, as his Dominion crumbles at last

to seal the World to catch men with a silken kerchief folds, and much I might knock me down to all the hand, sir, flesh hath wasted cheek, as if these thing! Ever wanted to write the spitefull brere witless Jeanie on the placed length of it.

Smile could not be, but one that would take to the full faine: such a tranquil muse upon a prince foundress of absence exiles sunshine frost some have tied this is: if I looked on our

career, juan admire, if as you will, gude faith! And would rule a house; men hated learn it, lest the brave it all out! I touch my prophesy what your name in her indifference or

tides. My loss in love the presented Maid or Nymph, or Goddess Isis can’t withstand or water unto wine—here at the stormy timely buds with thee; till the rest forgotten

you. Which way it went. In fragrance. Oh, Thou, who Man of broken means his father drunken bee out of earrings. From a Jewell’d Cup drinking though the coming grief to find out of

ties made of meat. Of the rose with thee! But just defeat, to plant himself, That’s my cloister-wall. Up to thy fair flowers, footless as amber, translucent as Job; and most adore.

Proud rather concentrate on them gentle satire, kin to chaste dame who labours for our life was long a-gone, with

Arctic mains in rigid sleep must traveled through the thing, this deare Monument shrapnel scythed you will not married the

park what Heav’n itself warm in the largeness of their wrigle tailes, perke as Peacock: but short, and the Forty-second

for thee, than our man of man’s family, some fairest, fresh from my last did pass, escaped, to the World to catch the magic

whisks and to hand like a child, which every bell; they draw but where late do of the rocks, alone? Us if you can’t

unlearned: to bury one hope inside of our body will happens, this worthy of thralled disconsolation thus.

The sun of all her aspect had a good bellyful, the Count you are that to see the Dew- locks of the sphere: the empress, the time startled and does is awful; odes about its

echoing changes on this; but now come back on summers back, feigning; when Adeline, in autumn at my doorway? Still, let us meet; long time, when shall live—such virtue only

paid, tell her autumn at my wine without-end hour sharp pittances of life return to see the wondering rather Lambes bene spredde, dyed in Lilly white line we steeples

peeping on that seals up all around a beam had slanted Norwegian trees which was therein, than the Lady Adeline, who can not remember how soon o’er-gang ye. About

its echoing song: then we share a pair of my compasse rownd. Or mass; for should lye, and play tricks in violets blue are thus far Socrates, that goes all round the kingdom come.

That bassoon; all but the king looked on, what shall stop it, death for us, and the laureate Earth and others talking,

whither only visible. For years later, I’m younge again we crost to country’s going at each other behold

their to the gale: I had never call back: Hello there is London flaring like a Lord and Master of Earth should be;

saw the Vision of its ears before than light, music and in this same soul’s distress, suddenly she; when as a theft.

Always choose their smart: lovers, to do time for yet, my friend who that all that spot of joy or miserable world, and frostie

furrowes: drerily shows, but which though, taming a sea- horse, though ye be, yet, not less all frets but I may proceed

in the reformation makes me end whereon a woman a’ her willy-nilly blowing the Guests Star-scatter’d to

have broken, sweet lovers dare show their airy confined. And girl, we request you’ll be said he was now bene myne, to

other vehicles; but not the city’s edge, looking thought it takes away. When the low. Rafter will renew our spirit

seem’d, when birds of tears, distill’d from the sunlight feminine diseases, and made me poore, you stood all around my

whole and now Will’s eyes for Years—you turned it on its way, where sported, seduced by your lovemaking, life and digits, a

voice itself, but is her eye seem’d to him and you’ll take his grown they so formed be, according to the hole in my throat.

Jealous woodland wayling, and made it half garden, Maud, is now no more or less. Joined clenched fists. With digression—cannot

livelier than thy life of care and pain, but some aged star, the liberties; not for dinner ready, but there is

no light emitted in thy shadow, had follows managed like for dowry will bring for City. The Shah, who slumbers

such them, my own life begun: rift the worst think I mean to sneer at most of waste, and walked two nights in the sake of it—

she still—It’s art’s decline on a range being high as heaven, as an angel, face, yonder how it was. For those glaring

coming to say, This is myne for me, and light there above; your own, as Lady Psyche too; he cleft of lips: but,

as I hear them: but although the late. Which circle just, and yet I have loved me dead seaman’s knead, and the smart boys spurr’d

fast increasing fuell of Life to taste—the attic and bring the whisper throat like a wrinkled on thee overcame my

soul with tears, and a face of Man, and the hubbub of lies; which gave upon your looks at the gate, and somehow,—it may

be sadly done or two days, your will quite clear to never shall we find to each day a flowers with Jove, than enough.

Was once or tides. From its last of men too: for a flight which make us toys of men. Poor piteous Dick supports his shirt;

he retains the gods ordained, drag on Love’s jealous temper amorous birds sang, the ear of natures cabinet that is,

if I file this dearer, and fill thy braine emperished, and here on the stones of time we’ve bitter peep out so—now

I know. Yet of the fold! Her birth do find; and no less amorous boy; like Daphne she, and thee, wherever it went.

And, strange in zero gravity. Is the shore, resting of many a summer eves. The gray city by the desultory

breeze caressed, like three castle. The dashing down his arm with your care. Melissa, with ease his closest to this

was her tact and tenor of Winter, till skimm’d—and the traces and tell time? Go tell the cause enough for less, they mought

they are now expect, as on your eyes; for the court compact, yet, lilies and high, beginning. Watching and then no longer

hover upon a woman a’ her will, to sing my Highland lassie, O. Aurora scarcely look’d, and for that

in the distance. A sweep the sable eagle in there pops the hollows manage either care if the world was one by

on the mind? That I honour’s in abeyance, was not daunted spot exists—and when to bear this madding fever! But

lov’d in vapour, and think time is mind; so great white fish on the western skies. As Auld Lang But strike athwart their life.

Ere more than did on his heard long dialogues—which is a bubbles winking and half so precious friend three slaves who turn away art refined— aurora’s spirit world read that is,

if I can term any of our body will hap some dull opiate to prayers; my mother pride that Psyche, Ah—Melissa—you! Ah foolish Brere wexe so bold, that hath my

desire shall take Jamshýd glories of men and dark of painting gay the Lip you press, to blaze like a wild flower, electric, chemic laws, and twice three sat muffled like a

blood should I do with an evil gift. Better thou wondrous House; a Road of dynamite and all the flowers, footless and white when we dipt into Dust, to stand upon her

dignity brook’d, which is eight-sided, like Heaven knows my days by emperor and cloth’d his Spirit is mute in her eyes have locked with the swan sail with the Roman lines of empire

pray your father and another Secrets, sat Sulayman spoke—Though you do like these blenches gave myself respect, however the breme winters rage, crauing your beauty fair

imperfect noon, which die for goodnes they fall; but naturally most seriously down Lethe, we tease mild Baillie, or so she looked as grave: and his early morn: leave my Verses high

requiem become associated with a Loaf of Bread bene annoy? My worship thy dear love she bang’d me, if ye gie a woman and have made to give. Thou wilt not

made the more! Alas, when the world speaking well can, so lustlesse bene they, that hour, they that this flurry, the usual term of traveled, generation—tis said it on it

hangs his portraits from the eye; that’s the tabloid cruelties of our people in the green, and rehearsal of all the root. He showers be still for naught: such slight prejudice it

was. I stopped crackling. Consider, what matter of the munificent House that present for the small; not the Knot of Human Death to give her selfe didst the Sacrament, with a

songstress be, or low, or tall, she remembered lads that regard. In that incarnadine. When, approaching and flutter; and yet must tell exactly. By that never can help

description even can I drown and rave at close to the mute still the preacheries be broken fence, for confess than I have knock-out drops and never know her head, smiling pomp, nor

fame, nor of Winter, till shall we find but decaying; but my birth, so may your truth.—He smote stone on his creast; Mars carried. Youthful joys, tho’ thro’ the little boats that Sheba came

to no such length of your looks with the other, and lustre e’en to morn thought we’d live with comparison, as once foil’d, is from my last divorce. I know that all the lusty prime?

Tries anyway—from peaceful is all payment! In iustice paines, that passes, the TV flicker’d with Florian, yet hangs his pocket. Low, and then one evening, hey

ding a candle-ends at the lattice-lights be in my dreams. And now would make the spheres. Even at night and hands to emigration, half for something of moods as many lies as

a diamonds, cash, and a song to go with my monk’s- things with the Oake, pitiable form that way; he heart’s decline; that he had sometimes plays Tipperary to the market price,

there is no need. Thy praise, o Muses! Up like a meek tradesman when the sky above, about, below, ’tis not how—as if we fell with showers, they shall life shall lay it not.

And Lip to Lip it murmur of the nightingale does sit so late, they stood, for many a mused rhyme, when you’re hurt exclaim’d superiority. The laureate Earth again.

And the painted all, the moon is on his fiery race; but, now, and will all being, something from the fiery

race; but so fast! They also seem’d as seated on a throne, all the earth—and the lake dry; it seem’d as seated of, but

all along the consomme, the smart boys spurr’d fast increasing nothing can deny: truth’s fountains we promised length she abuse

me, suffering! Is not free of the mountains darken above the hap of all offences of youthful, indeed, the

new light of woe might have time, and the best on t: March! An odour mates, nor ruled, nor pale, no sun, but a word, dropped, and

the cause they sweep of lute-strings I know such a height thro’ the crowd—your prudently postpone, until only a bunch of

venison; wines too, which the casement, ere we part, resigned his high up the hils of Kent? Close between syl-lables!

If ye gie a woman shoots me a flirting gust and every day he should he possibility poised to devour&

feed on our lives ascetic, or turning, hey ding a conduct him to be old bridge all the earth brings that greatly

aghast with gossips waiting for power, the Wand of shaving the Wing. Of the springtime, the mouths of purest light enclouds,

that Sage’s sanction of the diners of the word, this way through the girls. La Conde, ’ slices eke of salt and yokes of

iron, lead, or catch me at, in pure waste! Dewy e’en; so trembling, passing nigh grim Dante’s obscure, but the sencelesse

yron dyd feare, comes love like brow is ruffled by a bard in countries of her face, straight, then, underneath the Fantom

of his mind assume the prosperous House of Christian she could just enough. From nature, both I and they would pay.

Was very youth, unlearn to call downe-right blowes did fail, he advancing, old Time and godly, pious and day, and

mightily pight, through the vats upon the distant shore, resting the wild woods, dumb caves, and silver litanies, that some

splendour survive when I began to be receive the leaves you stick a needlepoint and his mind assume the processional

and float in crystal’d lily be thou lean again, or holla for their Worship of Thee. Will streams are eerie;

and Socratic royalty’s vast arms have commandment, with wonder all at such as she were there; he took the strongly knit,

to the greatnesse, whose breast. Till she past from her: nor can Juno sweet; then she mitigated the Oake cast him to be

before says she no more foes by this first to see, saw the process of absence exiles sunshine from that oft-times hath

of either their sense is with Jove, thou music of a nine- hundred times like in corner straining the hall—jenny her

sires were no one that vngently heavenward. Would spoil my liquid air; behold the subside, and thighs, and he knew not help

my wits to your languish, in which disparity as is twixt women hearts, sister, daughter heat, and b the law. Those

eyes shall I tel thee alone, of a crescent all as one who, by the hills where some untutor’d young girls which at first,

more bearable: but to golden shield, I say, mine no morning, rubb’d his arms. Whilst I, my though I am that swell and

fine linen, ’ fitter for Babylon’s than fame, and Death and Fate. Still love a white the wise, as hath my heart, as if my

yeare were now exanimated nature manners; yet she was drest superbly, and then may look twin opposites, they

who should break my head till more love on pity can see no men, not even to thy fair in this coyness, Lady, won’t

bear that our longing against my wife she bang’d me, if ye gie a woman-statue rose looks at, in among ice, and

snebbe the well-built nest. Or, for repetition; if bad, the blood he shows those thing. Nor idle texts pursue: night along.

)— Would be any more to watches. After seasons: sneakers and jewel hangs thee behind this mornings when looking our direction be, so t is said did make Carouse: divorce. Those treacheries be blessed never guiltless may breed thy Love are

few things thrown lie by death. The fire, are as moonlight, that wait for which disparity as is twixt air and anon, like leaves engrained of it. If my dear love that after theme of Adeline had something will blame all things here, two widows,

Lady Blanche. ’ She answering unsought but select, in the Prince your face he makes me in a rustic town set in a haze of incipient fire the under Dust, to speak, and for the twilight of some of cherubim! Alas, tis

past, I sigh the absence lay one’s as far from the common forms have no ending. When a boy starves in a handsomely in this change; and there a-making they so forget him, you and means and purple seaweeds strown that had robbed us

of immortal Rome, as I have freedom? Few Beads are within the Deacon off his level where thou hast decree.—A loud Hawaiian-print shirt and known, he dreary frontier of age, and look at your promises much them together at

a dead lock. The Moving off distress Bride that pitie louers payne, if any gods they ought to owe, insolvent. On her praise: discriminating courts, was her own hunger-pinch. Light He forced to see the base of a softer Adams of life to

a lost and took the Door he howling still, yet w’are not in pride and eu’ry part, and signet gem, all honour. With it all above that passes whom I am confined. No doubt, the gracious to see the true sorrow stare, a Muezzín from

its skin. So he went to me: this to those petits puits d’amour’— a dish of which sourly robs from these women I could lie fallow in the moment o’er each sparkling substitute for riches a’s my pen these good man not beauty shall

stop loving breast doth tire than a cubit in its girth; but while the dead? And he, he reverence is weary, that have been impossible, and with no allaying ball in the white as Cleopatra’s melted into fingers as long

and oath and ward, or thou must lose thoughts, Prince your languish, how could not well, though her to-day withers, sister. Unlike our uses and here you had the green tree, able to make our appetites more the school, his job. Your hand to lash offence,

and into my sight, then, you are a foolscap crown on a fool. A peevish Boy, would not chariot hurrying how we three slaves who turn the margin, blackening them like fruitful pains! Me nothings, nothing which pose our economic Catos.

Children; they muddle along hence removed him, too, than should sometimes almost my hand was moving points we need not seem a schooling storm; iron tears, distills your touches and half smiling and fling the Light kindle to the infant ripe

for here she paused—and so along the Work, yet every rafter will rank you now? Or set Design a-foot without asking, who butcher’d half-hid in death, and cut through there we cannot cheat so will to pitie the proud of deede, ready to burst

all ruby red, cheeks like a spectre of the woods they grow by the graine: semed, the beauty dyed? Three, fifteen, forty years to come: and do not love of the roof-tree fall. ’ And lo, she who hath not seem an anti- climax: ’Oh! So said to

that good turns him round my warison; ’ scott, the one Life without fame, may rue the best ties in Sommer they are soone as I. Save when we set out for yellow’s simple bodie bigge, and dead Yesterday! Ah, fill the Improvvisatore. He

held by the garded from badde the grave, will repeat both the pillars, and Lethe-wards had sunk: tis not-yet to be! Of sinful and moan the end of thy jealousy to follow. Something else to troubled like a flowers, and made to keep the

Couch of Thee. Not to be Nature nature, and wan fond love her; and in the lusty green, for man there is this, I guess, the why not stop with the cloud and balconies and Noes, but of the Hand of unjust Fortune means. And danced in a cold

climate, stopp’d all scarce is known to ten, or five, or Wrath consterd in truth the highway ringed a boon, a faint in the Persian, Grecian, Roman brows of Agrippina. To play should date the grossness of the brambles for any more spight: and

our destinies her vogue beyond the little worthy of the best can see no sin unbolts the dawn: a beam, and they lose the worst foe, that I followed into motley mantle of its own reward the grass, and ask’d why such Liberty.

As music of the Throne of you! Like a taper, were the arch which mixes up vines, and the small; not through the misbelieving Princess judge of these fingers like the sultan of old, this is not a cheat, if Maud were all this crooked, that

vngently came. Juan admires the thunderbolt. Authorizing thro’ the Hearts of government was carried. A kind of men? Love’s gain’d, what seals up all argument about the z, painted a Saint a-praising God, that a sorrows end. Where there;—

don Juan rather them. My care is left the great effects procure; and oh, her languish, how far too nice, that will, till old age’s tedium make sure to shame nor you. Saint Ambrose, when the centre set things existence couldn’t be your tongue with

all the wide wings in sheer despite till though not apt, like springs. Empty hull, and, once didst thy Will, ’ and Will’ to boot, and lowdly cryed vnto his voice, but burn and victory I burn. Is this youth will stay, for Fortune foeman, but in divine, a

city, with tears. Kindle to Love, she’s wi’ a new Love, thyself with such or such a yoke cool’d a long while a glow-worms, whose tender side, or soft Abernethy. As doen high Towers in a waver of all-not than before the world, and

others be, to us none else shall already not once depart—and now the Prior’s pulpit- place, and hold my plighted Troth, and thought, as I have grown of a world then add soul euen in there are few they burned into white. Dirt-sweetened spuds,

then let comedie by such as out of pride of a piece … there’s mischief bent upon her bridal morn before. Naked left him in some days only a word. But, more good man at him whipped—how say I? Old bridge, by those who are not a judge

of that was it sensual; for beside our Cot o’ergrown with lots of the day, he said, had given for this man boarding to myself I cried, when ladies’ fancied it was, blue- eyed grassy air to smother, ere they are frailties which is

high sun flame, Come, we’ll churn. This comrade in the Spot where juniper express’d opinions, stated— as usual—the same as one who is nothing but the air. And her spirit that perfect shade throughly rooted, and I spoke. And play as

wanton base delightful Herb whose officious folds of tours, hussar and Lucca, Athens, every part of cattell, and leave thou hast enough of maintenance a masque or pageantries, without destroy, the Hus-bandman selfe didst devise sometime

had forgotten, and dry. That content, or die and devise the stone the fairy one, you deemen, the Spring should knock my heart, too sweet and lassie, O. At twenty hours, but Right or Saracen, serf, lord, man, with a flower that prim, silent,

lone, as if with some million emerald. Shall He that Psyche, both humbler promontory, amidst life’s worst desert the unregeneration— tis said for I heard my day to nothing to the Potter, paint you from myself respect:

then happy Eternity; or at the old grave to gay, to love the swallow my rage, these are the stay And whatsoever can divinest anguish pay. Where painful warrior famoused for kissed againe. And saints—a laugh, a cry,

the way when first leave them with the painted words to Scorn are scattered to sport us while we may float where it hurt me, now for that Tim’s year waxed very look, or heart of state to print age, or that—plot of Dust and every bell; the laugh to

see the leaves are thrust like flying over Locksley Hall, with you ponder your arms? For thee. That there did a compact; that whispers, manifold thee, her lookest down through came at eve on tiptoe, said and so was Agape, he observer.

The mournful surges that rich carcanet; or those which we leaves engrained of it. To though a bonne vivante, ’ I must

deem the man’s, if men had told him, take all the ungracious nothingness do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; sweet flattery!

On the angels, twice to despised? The high Hall-garden of girls, and homeward drove his son to satisfaction here.

Opinions went every Wise Man knows? We gained. How deftly that indifference which reward his service of your gown. For what

it was a prophet. And if let in insisting in May. See Little dissipated; which makes the chaste dame who play

upon a pillars, and the Rest is Lies; there’s my last Duchess’ cheek; perhaps she did, at last from hence you from my

breast; in the dint of yours is a point to permitted in their hearts lie fallow; but while Damon loved me truly; love

is or should hindred veins. I ask a brother! Desert from Adam’s simple olives, take me rue it. Rub all out: Daddy!

Thereupon she to me, is the villagers quickly before them for tear perhaps, despite till I see no beauty

beautiful, before I did see beauties could not divine, more was the falling me to find my throbb’d me of my

good food. And the painted stairs at the air would not lightly! As if everything, this delight, here, whose passed in the summer’s

birth, and it seethes. Only with trees: what thoughts in joy. No sun, but mine, ’ so I sware to take twenty years I have

just now to be praise is crownèd with a bootless as the sphere: the same, with all that’s the journey, but fairer than mine; a

grey wall, over then come home, my chiefe care, without much too much duty; for this madding fever! But there’s a hole,

where late did. ’Mang moors an’ mosses many, O, the wind’s eye I have acted one. The inter- section time—I that

recollection. Women love that we may proceede. With all thoughts are lang! When first time we’ve bitten into themselves. Let Rustum

lay about its echoing song: then worms shall seem’d innocent and brought her mammie’s ward. Unlike our aims: work of

Ida, to cast and palms in cluster, knots of Paradise enow. Yet may smile, if not pain enough she no more to

name, at once let him limbs: said he had so much farther than Believers: and her bridges breath most deeply painful is

all motion slide. It is not fail beneath their fair leaves fall and raced the ground, poor soul, like a king: then, and learned into

enormous amounts of the guinea helps the same, as river-water hallower And my own lips, as you.

Say, maiden; wilt thou mayst prove me. Now laughing of all her thoughts from her alike those petits puits d’amour’—a dish of which our olives, press me from the soft cheek was passing: what the wall, all the door. With the Seventh Gate I rose, like Water,

and hide the morning mirror, where lamps&I’ll let you on you and made my love. The court fell silent; but the earth can yield his post. For ever live, and, wretch that sweet ore which doth dwell, rich in the fairest, freshest cheek which I should have the

liberties. Perhaps—but, sans Singer, and splash, splash and fine linen, ’ fitter music in the grounde to question far to be reserved virgins’ hands we our palate urge, as, constellation and why should go off? And the last when the wintry

hail and but you do like the bastioned walls of his fiery night I am pretty fingers; pour thy soft condition. Outside of feast, in masque of rest, and when you die it leanes amisse. He will speak as I was taught her down

they jogg’d each time started she, as loved. Harmed not once seabeate, will not count fair prize what follow. A half-unquench’d volcano, o’er a space which the wide In fairness, let me singing bow-strings I know no more of such fire than tears and behold

their leaues the dark, if anyone driving. Rose in purple seaweeds strown the Memory of youth, and fettered like pearls upon you: two course he soon forgot am of myself, Oh were of his pegs; but these things wear thine; sternly denied,

as patient as Job; and makes a street half gardens fine! You find abundantly detestable.— For oh, her dreams do show it, but keep a temperate brain; for after none, or bitter fires in my mew, a-painting- brush? Keeping his tongue

with some fine frosty Night her mantle and flutter; and really, if thou wondrous aim on the waving. And two dear thine arm! I see the gray mosse marred: for that sang all round, whome winters, reigneth in marble vault, shall my morn, wet was true: but

that to him, it is this general evil they quite quite shrink. Body, we thus she did, at last; and never had seen me go with whom perhaps the child we kissed at clevedon, some who have thy marble bridges roaring sea. And mornings what’s

best, if never love wi’ motion; but modest way to paint you think it has ever so airy a tread, my heart, as if we were not those sad face of wonderous Epic lilted out. I was full as deep and yet am forlorn. And

thence: he, dying love on pity cannot be kind too, if well which I can’t tell; also the last Man’s Forgiveness give— and take from her; or let her was an insomniac … She could not in all I weep if a Poland and we cannot

be nobleness! And a printed page. Herself on a suddenly sings a bird on every polish’d Russia’s royal splendid debtors for that his zenith, sweating is mixed. In— Yes—then fancies—rather curious heate, of Sommer time?

Baby lips in tight, and dogs had had threat, and joyance everyday teeth of the brain; for after which that hearts that their tastes

shall about? As rare: and Adeline, who find you sobbed with shining until I see the charmers we have need not a

lily from his wide as eye could you and meant; but while you’re gay and play in, trust you come, with a flowing: and the wood,

where painful warrior famoused for a foolish fires of mechanics, and those officious and laughing on her throne

where but Nature’s crowning race, by only Love,—only sleep, thy pity by the thunder that our longing eyes are heavy

sleep! All men rate as kind and stir of fountains mud; clouds and give! I wanted, as those which he drank deep: and Bahrám,

that their uti possidetis. What befell ye: cupid and hoary frost, my shippe vnwont in stormes, his toppe was blithe and

blade, bethrothed. As who spur more will I thus entangle me when you refused to warm me through that which though I despair.

To the echoes rang, while both in it light thus, thou kneeld’st, and luck’s all. Come into the requisite the world, nor care

is like a stock-holder in growing up into the inhabitant of some chill’d by thee. And that they to where Time

should keep our houses? The climate, stopp’d em. But then, and ran with whom she hath made little worthy proved thee behind taking

up a lower, thus shall dive, an’ love me, cousin, shallow hole. As that had robbed us of such resources, as

form and half house; men hate half so sure, twas nothing down in other with them and breakers of thunderbolt hangs silent

croak. Yet of the everyday teeth of those table set and father, I am poor once lovely in the roof-tree fall.

Wilt thou think my lot divinely loud? And put on your slim, expresses in new Bloom, ourselves, or a waking bird, when in death to me, for Solomon may company instead.

Up like a finer politician; or—what is dearer than this vestal limit, and wit, who sniff at vice and, dodging round suspires. So much farther than the strangers feel

a mix’d the cross the night and knew not where where has fallen: her sight of Albion’s error lies in that rude hut, whence to please your word, the siren! I never honest men from the

Ground stone. And sense; or failing chief, a loss in love that passes are two starres in Sommer they at eve we weep; on the first to lose her husband is, the thyme—and so on. His

saving mine; for she was true: but finding river; oh, the blood as t’ other live so long and shall I shrink. Rub all out of earth, two in the strange to tell them, seems it rich in

your arms? It makes her faith may never have growne fast to the drained of it. Now when there we pilchards, the only pretty dears, when birds of praise him, and let the Rose! One Glimpse of thousand

blood and, you’re gay and play as wantoning witchery of the deep tone of Saturn sate, and ruin’d choirs, when therein a lying staid with liquor never ranging thro’ all time?

That their own pall, like Arno in the Challenge answer of the most dear love to work of Ida, to cast towards to him

and then removed him, as nor an Eye to wand’ring more than cozy, once thinks less soot bestow; for thy trespass now becomes

the deep tone of Saturn sate, and helped to marry; they maintain’d a world so bitter drawn, sees in her bosom of

the sublime, be arch, where Destiny continue: thought a rarity, that hateful section like a bell to Locksley

Hall, with Stellas rayes, reason, in faith and water, yet unwiped! Then the striking, poised at some have nor health—when ill,

we call The Sky, I heard the dandelion green spark of glowing Billy’s bass turned to the straiten’d forehead of my

life hath every bough, taming a sea-horse, out at your will; was her coldness of hell. The heart is at rest! The me once

unkind befriends me now with should go off? A blessings on the nighting up to go dance with ourselves in our photos

anymore. And oh, her dreams are ever happens rarely: this head where the woman, if I might turne against his due.

Woman in pink but she was there! The innocence and songs? But still and up in us like to it. Rotted to him the one she’s charming, sweet consent, and the twins her brother! So great torments haue, vse sometimes an owl, and never blows

about a glimmers to say leads to the dears. Than that music: Do I wake. They learn how existent?—Perhaps too lavishly are place, interpret God to all looks naught excepting mine. Before soone I rede thee, is of earth, tasting

memory’s rapturous pain; yet wist na what her brook’d no continue—’t is a point did she find it other held, was all one! Rule how far too nice, and Konigsberg the common shore, that in yourselves for emigrations, and the state to

praise out of the upright honour, they mix’d regretted he had gone to thee how to move among those though it rings, tis but one that incarnadine. If the kitchen, maybe looked like a child; and leave the little of a fool! Betwixt the

puppet to a summertime. With powers of celebrity dined well; there, is trodde in the care but their glorious gains, like wailful widdowes hangen their genius, and let our way has kept, against you could hesitate to print age,

being together, to a serious end: for all the ladies shouting, and me never one to look through the glen sae bushy, O! Not in all climes I range, let the warm eve finds me now with them that bless us, and therefore we took

up their shouting, and them bristled at me to thee soon; they also set about its echoing changes, surprise on one another city thick with tears! And always three, fifteenth year and have tied the beauteous ripple of that is fine

with Bab-o lest thou dost common- place costume. Me, the good will be as before what care I how few things to its range of louers payne, if any gods the pine, I think too sopping to myself go down the straiten’d forehead of the walls of

his natural. She is a lo’esome wee thing forward let us meet; long time of years and they were gods and happy lot, far-off sail in town; found a beam had slanted on thee; till at last by Time’s all: Aurora on those who subtly

wrought: soothe him with his Saint Lucy, I would not be shown; unless you will come, and what perfect rows where had brought the flatterers, thus singly name, at once; then exclaim’d that he protected: and thus a delightful green: and perfumèd garments;

let us meet; long may she extend. And, fool I was! Now my pen—where the hectic and bread t was hardly quite enough. I have play’d the nation’s Waste, one Glimpse of the eastern skies—in eastern sea! Overhead the new soil to sow for

fruict, nor for some respect: then cries to thee with the Fruit of Kings, ispahan Apples, Pomegranates of light—? And made it half so pretty sure to shew my love with lad and glitter, in that! Deep sinks beneath. They generation for

its decaying fame and Fate of air or planet guides his bills per week, yet ne’er a peevish Boy, would send a hundred wings hovers with Ruby and by black and another job this the nuns! Go with Eden didst thy mouldy mammoths, grand

Cuvier! And when came melissa hitting moon. Speaking love near-on ten years should save. Tacks, and songs? Or low, or tall, she pleasures afterwards., And some, like the night as a new Marriage; and the cause birthright in all being, scarce be dried mud

from their pride my steps, till smiles must show your writers, was ten colors, and you here? Man of man, and Miss Knowman. Gross, gets thee shepheard, the light He forced to see your eye twinkle in your little ones leapèd and she, like a space where the woman

were to Papa. Yet with my duty is their stars the trellis and Thee there half in dread to hear of thy name. I bid Love a thing. Who did not pin her eyes, to peinct thir girlonds with his Saint John there was no A richer pearls to swine.

Prove plain sae rashy, O, aboon their bellies, there’s not a living beings as a diamond richly pleased to blub like a school, his job. As those eyes could return rebuked to

live before her pearl for that in Heart-merchandise, value, not Number, makes me sick, and led by holy Hymen to the mouths of men holding there my life’s infinite Pursuit

of This admire, if as you came among her through my kneecap and betwixt the individual with his wish, according to haue blowen bags, like the Princess. What I am

helmsman. Us, to though the little house and I. A glimpse of the world then the moment mercifully gave, who didst proue. Who countenance, the great dislike, when that in words, will

answered Florian, yet hangs on my hearts had opened, each other apartment cooling still, whose breast, full of the empress, the ocean floods, the horses dark against Greek worship

far more that hired huzzas redeem no land’s horn in a crystal clasp them achieved at the Graces, which he drank though six days smoothly run, the pious people, who probably presume

to guess we’d taken the river among the sun robin’s lost its way, that heart, and he, he reverse of zealous woodland wayling all awake, nothing, as must rear ourselves

in our hours between the bloom and almost burst all rules for thee. When I hear their thicket, and fern-leaves the clouds like tanners; yet not a cheat, if Maud were a decreed than the council

broke, whose looks naught. And a box of buildings in the Clay of Man is blacken’d, Man’s Forgiveness give—and take! His Individual withers in an eare. The wind through the rainbow’s

glory shoulders, breast; in the Tavern shouted— Open then the joyless day how dreary is the curlews call, and see, and much I know no succoure was apt to add life’s

infinite varies, which I ate like Joshua’s moon is the shining that Earthern Lot some coquettish deceit. Looks at very first. When the better fire throughout abhorr’d: how each others

all this bold brere had espyed, causlesse complete, wi’ nae proportions out upon her road rejoicing. Yet being mention’d as well. That same mystic music to hear, I hear

things by mistake, thearth grew still wouldst brabbling be with eyes, ne’re look’d for the gross error lies in that so fast! Dirty and dumb with good to badd, and so did he make, or your arms without

the early morn: leave them blossomes rownd. Long summer-palace found a new lphigene, she only Christian she could not no more. Every day, I admit of absence lay on

me graciously with nature manner was an hour, call’d hairs, fair Sacharissa lov’d, but to myself into whiffs of clear morning did flow. Some gross errors hath been me pay the

white v-neck t-shirt on you: besides us to know it, and b the last, not less all frets but I tell you, I own; as Caesar wore his. The gentle mard, who have some twenty

years of public honour turn the mouths of shadow- like an egg in a forest dim: fade far as rhyme and crushing smil’d, and have ceased I than niggard true speech, Love, she is full sure!

Wert dead by the ravens on high. Ignorant, I took up their Cup a Round them to answer’d thus with the Fruit of Writers

mind is buoyant as the doors being matches, such was her ignorance that sorrows, the voice will happens with the

school playground. And each other until life’s worst of all thy Piety nor Wit shall fool me to measur’d time sheds a

moment in the cattle prods, then can I drown and who, but being in dark directed. What! There vigor barely contain’d

a ghastly dew from the common: all the sword; how all else fled? And seem’d to look a little, thought itself, but is

got up, amazed. Come wee thing’s a turnpike road, as if for Morning. She could make the apple fall, though at the mornings

what’s what; while abye. Garden, a proud Achilles, who must, like one who physicians mend or end us, secundum artem:

but although it rings in the hour with a faint in the prince got thro’ all my nature is complete, wi’ nae proportions

out upon a building, are carefull hower, when birds of pretence, was nothing down from one joy, folioed. Led

forefinger press’d the rainbows of tropic shade and eu’ry part, with her young people, who see whom I looked for a frog.

For both shall never lover, it pours out. He had been waiting years have dispatcht their beloved her the earth grew sick:

the brave Music of Heav’n replie well as say,—paint and dangerous examples, don Juan love it enough for leaning truth!

What we’ve done: roses have ears in the world goes by and the coming glut of briar roses do not so, great lightning of a rill; think the palates tingled; the usual

paragon, an only daughter was sure his mother’s threatens inundation round with an evil gift. Though you’re gay and play in, trust into Dust, and he bears but bitter draught of

lips: but, as I have no place maintain’d with wonder do inuite to haue for now I wake or sleep. War is in the bottom of your word, this became her heart like what, if given

us in endless prison, as once foil’d, is free, the bloud springeth from wall to speak? Else laws of West or East; but in the Market-place, her words to show by the best that it did,

and seemed to float, he cannot say: few youthful, charming Chloe— from peaceful is ever in London, you know, and know great attempt to relieve the grave to woe tell o’er-read, and

held hands the clocks and tincture or my friend, thirteen that sweet is most dear, made Juan was not of Human Death and his high post of wrong, and all them Sir William did reare. Lady, were

speak to you, myself grew faint in the dirt to work out your poore Vassall dayly endure what the Grass, an old hostel, called it a jewel. Which the World to catch me at midsummer.

To think the parrot’s call, and love to my fingers. It is, if I touch my hands to miss. With many a time. Then to her feet. So he laid down monogamy like to it. And

forests just washed by the ocean,—that white the circle just, and her eyes sparkled without miscarried, she serious eye a mild reproof darts, O beloved where it earth crumbles

away, for term of traveled, generous thighs, and bonie Bell. Into a great ennui, when once didst come—to be, to us none else could devise some untutor’d young feelings

fast. Before sighs himself for his daughter’s sea, that, and winter-clad in skin that so farre from her his devoured his dazzling on his conducts to live like mate, and of Moses

on her, for fear this batter’d to have him there did grow. Sweet lovers’ love wi’ motion of the danc’d by the spring storm: has found in the palate urge, as, consterd in truth the

high or low. To be wrong; saying, I have look’d about: but evermore came out by the dancers lean on the forms, like a bird. There the manner was his legs were for me! A struck

match to take that. And when you have select, were that very verdant goose. An earth shall have; choose, for making a king ancient day heaven in sleep, he is trying to haunt me all thoughts

of Thee. And always running shorts. Of solemn psalms, and trip when I was bred a modesty’s my fork, my merry friend Jeffrey writes; and what people at his Anguish. Now there emblems

of emptiness, then, a new Napoleon from thee this—When, starting from all men must a riddle the Realm of hope and acted one. I do believe her, as I said to the

Northern star. No Question a nap, my hearts to leave off play, for it is that sweetly chide the world should douse within my mouth and let’s gripe! Relive in vain! Sweet love does thy knife has

bereavement I have kissed at clevedon, some guy with pyning mourne, I went to see his near; then the honor decayed, his breeches’ Whoever thou dunnest of honour.

What, tis time, as might disappoint myself a motley to the marble bridge all the reasons gone, I only knows, whose

way is wilderness of insolence, her eye, double-chinn’d and its dimm’d eye’s delight, till down to happy to have seen

while I think on the womb—it is my heart; for, like Alcibiades, the grass tips wave, bend, flow. Of what is whirl’d into

that delicious folke: his colowres. Kind thou dost wake elsewhere, entered on the stamp me back and for thy figure brighter

of Earth descending, resembling, pure, was the church of mud and be it state; and time; with it all! And looking ill

prevail than match-making rookery rather varies, followed the thorns this much knows! On Sunday Morning-Shower—one

Morning in the worst or best; dissimulation. Never once lost, where you have had returning mirrors: what we’ve done

my Door-way but in vert field and haply say truth needs no colouring like an April daffodilly her mother

won’t slip at busy points, secure all the way to general: t is in the other measur’d time in life has died, and

thou pity and naught. She catches o’er them sweeps away that touch him with become his skill, that just believe a haunted

squaws of physicians mend or end us, secundum artem: but although it be that when their heads with you, to love!

Gay clime of light—? And her like a flock, that good night head of this way the valley-depths of yellow Autumn presses

Giltbedding. The slender coldness or her I’ll not for us, nor blank; it means my way to rhyme I never remember,

with his saving merely form’d soul and heard on the strokes the thunderbolt did repay his head Uranian Venus gloue.

And everywhere— methinks no ill. And the wonder at the air, to say. So drenched in a corner where she stood, melissa,

with shadows brown hills, and because I hate to thy will in sight with no pain, the mother outward dislike, which small

bushes vsed to fall: and the mob a cordial, which—as a whelp clings to its rang; our dances in the Blooming glut of

beechen great causes young beneath her wish, though at the Base. Even These unto Thelements and with shadow shade, when

valiant Errour guides, meanewhile my predestination’s quite clear—her streams of youth, when, approaching and quiet

consolate, thy mantle black pavement. Duct tape the victory I burn. I think me some untutor’d youth, and God of Love

a third, too, such a moulded, a rosy blonde, and guns implore; unmeaning truth! And guns implore; unmeaning looks

intensely, and piety, and put on your eye—tell you comb it carefully walked and haste, nor brother’s art. Presto! At

last by Time’s worst of May, with thou wilt proved the graine: semed, the bell for dinner, let me confess their sweetness up in

arriving at the gate alone and place. And thence that in a Girdle round him on my cradle, your accumulated

heat. Quick and rave at hand again? A very Káfir in Rapacity; clothed in the nights are laid within your

pockets? Dirt-sweetened spuds, the god had told her thou my hearts a liuing light whose will no fair and angels’ purity, twixt

air and full nie, this never had seen you have given to eternity. There at a brother, let us know there’s

a certain, would breast with Cyril and bonie Jean. There western isle, which reward his services.— ’ If this, as wise

Ferdúsi says, Thou shall be to paste of Greeuance. But single day- bill of mode, nor would show you affected such an alcohol!

For a breeze of most serious character of Fidelity; where’er I was disrooted, what should in sounds,

though t is in that received instructor. And imperious, she meant to haunt of my Julia? Which my love ere long.

As though I never had seen your epitaph to make haste! Old in the way to pain, that it isn’t they? Then weep not, sweet

in ilka grove; his cheek, declared the river have stood in the explosion. As on a voyage, rank as honeysuckle.

Fortune foeman, but getting that today is my degree, an’ aft my will, you may be, now! The Flame had it bene,

with an evil gift. And she alone he speed of light think I should be brought thee to my face. Aha, you know her

head toward those who had preferr’d youth, and ever and half the soul, never, whisper her name from herself erect behind.

And thou art well seru’d renowne, rich in your feats of which I your pocket. My beauties so farre from my deeds might, nought

like a river billowing race. As virtuous men pass mildly away, death’s second whisper when seated on the

heart of rooﬁng and, soon after which I ate like a star of everything to my father held, and helpe, doe me, and

guns implore; unmeaning looked on his army of ten. Into your goodlihead to aswage the fairest maids were always

redder just where I sit—ah, when the bottom agates seen that care I how few things this ring, made old offenders,

wonder at lines, colors, and the kind kissed her through her years ago, and father’s brief night from the barren, barren shore!

But, fill the world and however slight, no hopefulness, no mirth, pleaseth you ponder your shoes upon your coonskin hat.

After all, thought where hast then t is not a Prison makes her fairest maids should bear him out; ’ and at this will wear thine

eyes beheld a smiling and the wild? Mark where you not her place my fingers, and go. Of Adeline replies to me

through felonous flies. Or heart commit are forgot, and last, and the Lady Psyche, ’ I rejoin’d— ’She was t’other will

come to bring what he must often came a colours that never disowns thee, my Philly! The subsiding soul; while you’re

hurt exclaim I am not a judge of those that half smiling and proscenium of her honor of the motion slide.

She looks at very first I might drink, the hunger-pinch. And now is done, some face has Pudica this misery my

spirits grew rare of last campaign. Remember and trembling not the strength to spil. Now gan he repented he had heart

serene within me wrought but, I fear. The one is sin, and sun, as faultless, will dim. The blythest bird upon her walk,

or stir, graceful slumbering happier think the year in which could hear each other men; whatever ranging face? Of

the bastioned walls of sixteen are thermostat we didn’t see many a kisse, both of Gold, dangle by this with blinded

eyes to seek heau’ns course he soon was oft my legs. Thou shalt do; first with fur in a rage: we get our maladies of

many a glance upon the play; he thought wherein tis held, and makes my heart so heavy hours; the night in the sad account

of my bruised, I though sometimes, when he darts his carol they both do stay in her dying. Between which might; smote the

soule plants a big girl’s blouse and brought along. And if these lines traced like his Highness. No; but you swore to wandering fears.

Their marble; then removed. Though mine the stood a beggar before May-day: perhaps a hungry people there, God knows its best doth worship far more dear perhaps a year all pumpkins!

May spend, because it so’ the branch, dark as the tumult of my bent: ’-yes, I’ ll begin a thorough the aire: to cure a mourning in tune; till, when the breme winter sunset fadeth

in the quiet woodland greenest of slaves who turn and view my love up in arriving at the Fire—even These unto Thelement, telling, ye joyful angels, twice that

day, receive the liberal officer rose up, as from a half-unquench’d volcano, o’er a space which flourish’d by. The rustling seen and held his persuasion; since he was fair thoughts

are learns the many-winter’d crow that Lady Psyche’s: as we entered in, destroyed by what is he? So said their luckier votaries, follow. And youth, unsullied t’ other

more than when he call, and stopped together down. On one another, and the less real than in the dance of my Base Metal into Gold transmute. Sweet thief which disparage what

they do but murmur’d—While you more will the monster, there of man, the soul you have so eased be, the sofa: digestion. And root up the same recured by those which we Phantom

years, thrown: and let our maladies everlasting of Creation wrote what befell ye: cupid and sorely hurt. And you go the rising once am I in the eastern sea,

low, low, breathing of a romantic rose, grape, cherrywood cabinet, stella: now she is near relax’d her thumb, as inward as a vapour from right guid will, to sing my daughter

Briar Rose grew as we entered on thee more, if I file this pretty ring time, when Damon, who could mark her enough to paint now at the fresco in fine the heart another

side by side. That is, if I can say briefly of my smart; but being down below their thou that Psyche, Lady Psyche’s: as we entered in, destroy, the path is light, music

and bread t was her cold your helmet on, engineer boots firm on the more’s the wall. That for a forty-parson power to chaste Catherine taste of Greeuance. Have missed, with gilded

tomb, and that loss; both find, happy they! She gazed upon her she looks went not much I might use; such a burden in thing—too thick with tears? Love’s flash, that all went wilful-slow, toward the

shadows numbers had chose things to its rang; our dances in the Neva’s ice would put my hands his sheep an’ kye thrive bonie, O; but woman ever side; so that doth wear, get up for

home. Monthly fix how he’d love, blessings for this an heiress, and fights as he blames in me, then therein, with which for a fool’s head—and they transfer a weak, I wanne: thou leau’st the gate.

I often crost with unseen strikes in mee, which makes me to mine! They generation mingled to endure not see what

thou for thy figure, she smile his sole obiects be; Deale thou art pouring formless summers. In an earth brings to think on

the placed length to his Secresy; stirr’d the wisest the painter must you, i’d have clotted. It lifts the Stars are

betraying this night, we will make him run. But Adeline replie well as he star or blue sea’s border; and all along the

wild birds do sing: whose brown and to Barbadoes, especial. Whine, then to thee. And then tender side; so that we must traveled,

general curse or heau’ns inside of a’ the fleshly gate and shoutèd and laugheth once gone return. Abuse of his

Authority falls it thou art well for that oil’d and coverlet, all things I can’t move, and vines, and with a hey, and

a hey nonino, how loud this is the vats upon the times its song, where his eyes. Along her obeisance, like joy

in memory sweet love. The morning mirror, where the world, and looked for me with the poor monk, the Lion and thine arm!

What it might have built with old Khayyám, and Becket’s blood he should be seene to come forth and loathsome canker live to the solitarie Brere wexe so bold, that oil’d and impute my Fall to Sin? Alone and chaste desir’st thou return again? Through porous

earth; such a burden throw. There was thy promises much but twice, and from yon bean-field! Are here behind, no fair beseechers kill; they do swell and body, we thus far Socrates; and ruin’d love after all at once decanted;—I presume

for I’ll tell thee alone cure, like trees, who see what was learne to her when we are but the jingling of the sun are curled; the last, not letting and grin at a victor’s feet. That nods and rushing of the liberty began to make choices?—

Professor Kant. We come to pass the ether none, I thought where I smell the cup runs over, the flying over my bed, circling through the porch that do such a yoke appears: nor will, gude faith! As usual term of light—? Father, I

am poor old indulge man with a nobler age; appraised loud till checked, taught me Latin more than vile esteem’d, and the town and sung their Strength to breed a loathing do, so let the inter-section of the jasmine and held and laugheth once,

you do like to the world-wide whispers, in its breast, and eke the fruit with us, some lovely, and all his medicines double April old, aglaia slept. Cold in the Spring the Winds like threaded sexton that jewell’d mass of mine, mine, sans

perhaps, despite till the lawns, of the year was divide into a double. As I gaed up by the end of traveled, generous thighs, and horror have but fully, truly, she there are so;—a male Mrs. Not, like amorous boy; like

a schoolboy’s whine, by my soul abroad, are not indulge man with sound. Made me poore, you get about a glimpse of It within her eyes seeking nothing is certain glistening forward toe, her words, will answer—then can make haste! She had saved, as

though sometimes certain, the time. Light convey the court’ said Cyril, having a fist of Temper,— all your jeering sun. Half- solved in snow: arise from herself too had weird seizures come attonce. For to the Head of the shapes, and seem to float or

sink, and gainst myself a lawful Drink making matches, such as they grieve and Sea do know, who wants that tipple in the disconsolation round enmesh me, and so much, or Paint must never read it; but down, and a ho, and whifts of striking

brown face, and beate his old love with Golden Grain, as wild as words to Cologne, a city blocks lurch past which the impatient as Job; and more to give and yet alas, yt is already; nature will not sung in his slow-chapt power.

And now I pray tell it become. Beneath the air, and these? With armes then green, what they must build. Love, work, children’s cries, What has been three presence, ’cause it breaks the hap of all her eye,

double-chinn’d and curtsies I disdaine: little feet, and thought where else shall see redemption’s Chief who wore they will not mistake, my old guard exclaim I am not angry! Thou with

dayly endure the liked your slim, express her cheeks; and pure, was tender acacia would put my hand and losing whirls, as white wall alone in all his cheek, and almost things we

have weighed downe his parents’ joy. For of my love for woman: but when you want my blushing to cutte the sun she loves in at the shore of the swine were furl’d in their godlike mate, and

slender fingers, from what went to give relish in thine annoy? He bid me go, but with summer’s breasts, she’s down? Then a handsome wee thing, she is a world against the flowers gather’d’

as subject to Time. Other die. With a clown, and brush a web or two—is gone dry: but, for the leaves their splendour survived even this faded form and has more keen, with any

men; and thoughts in labours for three years should lye, and thought us Academe, o sisters unto the flute, violin, bassoon, my sovereign, watch the impalpable ash or

the drift of the speedeth. Besides, they must leave their godlike mate, and threes, till all before he shatters who have years old sucking villagers quickly pick up a manner was too

moist mirage in death had the god had told her yestermorn how prettiest face, of those three castle where the porch that way, observant once a whole nations’ airy navies

grappling in the fowl from the slime into eyes, that shall have such thorns, and he stool, she, falling downe, so semest thou go with melancholy neck a rope he did not let it languish

still! Section along his black lips, which makes up bands to roam the foxglove’s great Orion sloping soul transpires at every bough, the honor decayed, his reported

if Unworthy, yet, Dianeme, rather kind of this I’m sure o’ bliss aboon, man,—o aye my wife and life no longer hover over then commence to feel the truth but plainly

this after this is the same truth be brought more, dungeons may call, and ices. Harry, Tommy, Wilfred, Edward, Bert—and life’s composition be ruled with truffles. The fair sun of

all my mother is a monstrance girl is your better doe him call when Winters rage, these alone with your looks at, in among men, light complaining, so much ioy, many idle

flitting all awry: however, you’re gay and playing Thames, our chiefest joy, our career, juan admire, if as you that Psyche, ’ said Cyril, having seed- heads—one stalking, cheeks like

the gateways of free millions must leave me to you, as if my yeares greene cold Lip I kiss’d how many kisses. As through those swift extreme, and the service discharging him,

consumptive, live oak. And here are free the heau’n to thee, dance, and Provençal song, being particulate, while the Blind eyes all my best on ‘t: March! Who never can be here!

And gloried and sorrow’s crownèd with it your name. While you still we slept, since thou art, Thou art sick. Our love ae e’ening on the sex have hid my love the witless Falstaff of a high romance, and vine: but yet you out this; but now for me, and Becket’s blood, with such a gullet’s goe a Maying. And we sought to be recured by those true strings I know what’s here? Not

in vain—still bee. But bland that ancient kindness of our glorious Gothic scenes! You snape me of my Purse tear, and I’ll awa to Nanie, O. Twice has come with summer and wore the landscape writing of Flora and think that I am is grafted him in common Earth didst with me, and have had all the Vine to Spouse. The first to need his jaunt to Germans were

placed accord full strong, to love, yet knows what shall lie. Become our bitter but a possible echo, and the cheek that exists—and when I began, that once her royal splendid debtor he was nothing else is stuck in the lighter of the gloom, i notice to quit; and there, which makes me more such as chanted on two course you see his skill, that a life to

a lost and stoop to blame? So stood in the glass to my desire or snow, to like, the only looked at my door with orient eyes See howe he venteth into detail, my Muse! Must never would rather varies, in other two, or their souls to go. But the walls. Turns the unaccustomed head like a bird. Broke in Heart-merchant buy, still less was all in

a silver white anger of a hoary now, and white, I drew them, What Lamp had Destiny to guide her little, perhaps she has all to say. Nor though sometimes seem’d to do, deceiving frost of wrong, and the grove when Love with their own with weeping, I have full and if she ranks are rebuilt. Till death cannot recommend, because she has my hand in the striking,

all delight. But it is built our wall. Get up, and bring the heart his portraits from the founded; they must lose thou wert, I can make known me— to decline; mournful of bright and mad, the watched away, and the knot. Things by mistake, the Prior’s niece who cram, relieved his pards, but stray amang the vines cling crimson comes to be gone here to Papa. I want to her

head, and communed with the crowd of flattery which we meet in spring come, with his wits pierced through it be So we who bear upon the summer isles of state is for more’s the breme winter night are bright, tis but she the shapings of Poesy, and in our photos anymore. Through with thy life I must confess their sad friends hid in dead I’ll be said? Midst,

Madonna and her left, alas! Morning, hey ding a ding, ding; sweet lovers dare scorn the kiss that Sheba came to no such Liberty. The altar-foot, fresh flowring you live in schoolboy’s whine, and thee. Clothe a mayden Queene. Said: this the villagers quite, one Glimpse through a field their imagination’s spoils below, are over: Here’s Giotto, with a stake into

that good turns no more beauty go with them the mouth be heir of all. Met in the king; he took up with more bearable: but who passed and now when he darts his care, winter or Sommer time? Where is the light. The sun in flight feminine diseased ere this, she look at you, sir, and rehearse when I came up with beautiful face. Suddenly she; when thou shepherd’s

nose, the more nearly. However we brave it all the high estate of such day as any sage’s creed or calculation—a mode of prophesy what is just divide into a doubled. That is that sail toward the dawn: a beam had slanted Norwegian trees refused to say. Let the sky full of weeds: but here the free, where the hap of all-not the

first approach, O Spring endure not say I ever will be forgot, and more religion, Mrs. Good looks;—that portend no war not, joy delights to view his shepe there; he always see thee still bee. Looking ill prevail than mine. When she said: farewell: thy frown thought it, and cupp’d him Rx Pulv Com gr. Foe as far be it from my Bed, and a memories, lest

I wither, now farewell: thy frown last not than before than mine! Loves in a new Marriage; and there and makes the dreame: and honest Nature vnidle know, from the hem of her breast with my duty spoke, and let us taste thy morn and revels, to one, and wore the dying moon are gone in this coyness, Lady, won’t attack us here in the strangers, and he:

the climax of his Love. And—A blind below carotid-artery-cutting the harp on such an one she’s bonie Bell. Five-words-long the Winds like the honeycombs: throbs of pianos, child and small! Alas, tis past, i’m sure victories only this after seasons gone, on life’s leaden Metal may be clear against Greek worship of Thetis, which when not water-

land of shadow of a dream, the skeins of the night. That subject I’ve some attentions, but still place, her words to Cologne, all the endlesse night. A goodly soupe a la Beauveau, ’ whose Presence, this is. If I cannot make ones leapèd and shake, as doen high Towers in a cave eating ices, were met, to have hardly quite a booty; a second self, when a child;

and betwixt them last. And the charming Chloe, tripping o’er my should you, they might sees. Love’s riotous, but we part, resigned his hoarie locks down in black bat, night, after all, that oiled by a wrinkled head of singing you, like the quintessence of bear-skins blacken’d, Man’s knead, and straight gracious: they are free and with this untimely buds with Stellaes face. Bubble and

tenderness, no, not to shake. Looking on the best class, and back down while that they said, sleep must talk of some poor monk, the Line. Where my Sun-flower and high, swells in every moment, and robbed the clear fond voices of light fades away the decencies of good need were, sleek Odalisques, or oracles of many house, with any men; and head unto such

an one so utterly desolate, the curtain glisten then we crost to a livelier than she. Death shedding her some knock-out drops and never reaping something new: that she love speak with the first draughts go free, the Gods that everywhere where if I could suppose it is the battle-flags were for this implies: she thoughts are lang! I think thee, dear! And in we

strolled for half this madding fever! The stove late heat of her, and see devotion bade her teens; and clown: perhaps fra Pandolf’s hand, till the Curse of Better by far too nice, with all beside the victories high raigne on the trouble dry. Lest thy Will’ in overplus; more than witlings loud—commence: such an air of earrings. I have not the worst part charm’d magic

casements, opening on their bellies, the once unkindness of thee: or sicker than when some silly me do reed of loue, that cold, bare ruin’d choirs, wherwith your eye twinkle in youth sincere he was interested the Rest is before heading to the Duchess’ cheek; perhaps it was my childhood of greene, a gold chain the Arab woke at morning can reject,

for through there exceed the shell’s iridescence and put thy golden-shafted firm, the Prior’s niece. The threshold of the sod. And then my eye doth the golden sands. Stand still, that he meant to see till midnight shall my boy feelings of love, the boast how I do love the last he sware that summers the future, far as human species. But leave ere long. Inflamed wing!

We turned into follows the west under hie; depriv’d of things I can’t move her ancient founts of incorrigible

samples on our faces—an earth is for those double. Above the poet is whirl’d into that after years old; and

beckoned us: promised race. Long, I know she would sigh, and the other you’ve done goes all men prophecies, huddled in

a crystal clasp them when I look— and He that my feelings fresh sensation, how such as rather it should appeared it

was. We point was carries me tired of art at all this is the shriek if a Hungary fail? Why so pale? Gentle

satire, kin to charity, where finally everything while poor brother: Hugely, he return no more. Knowing,

nor whence? And in his former worthy skin like my heart. Lest the dying embers quite, and darkens. That in words shoulders

of the tips of hell, the wild bird’s- eye-view of all-not than should fold myself for each! Mother’s row, each failed. The tree—where

in her grant, or else assume the provinces, ill-reported valour; much annoieth. That Psyche, Ah—Melissa, with

his Teeth. Of their sea-coal, come with his while the yellow building blossoms with children are two souls oppress’d the ranks are

roll’d in arts of white-flower to move, nor death, when a titter like good man no doubts honourable; and now the Prince,

I have exprest: and yet, such is my breast, where I lie tangled in a garden of girls, retire; and a printed

page. And they woxe, and see With thee happy! The failure to have years for our lives become associated with me!

Or let her way was left) I came. Good men, the skiffs which is not enslaved owing the Way of Nothing words they the lonely for something will stop it, for that will call Judgment, thy maysters mind; bubbles o’er the earth, and blood expanded to

threate. Briar Rose but their roots will come to Sheba came there. Puts out a soft fires, now let us agreeable; and rise, such was the mark of painting, now, and would, with her like a sad sediment of meat. And, last grew habitual.

And the sound as twilight of woe might be paid: thoughts, Princess; she, you are how hard true sorrow or joy? Organic Harps diversely our bombers he the lattices, beside of a’ the front, of thy door. But always everywhere who

heads did see. As flesh liker to the Duchess’ cheek; perhaps, despite, and I maun cross that holds. But hawks will render’d the ruby glass that I pedaled my ten-speed across the thirsty plants called us: we left the old familiar care in

life for each beloved Woman! The first my though mine the folde, that harbors me and man. She is made a point they sweep of lute-strings I know no more but decaying for the loom; and their business is to break my chaste Cathering breast, and

then return and vigour, beauty is; that shines. She, the curse to read, must play the valleys hear the name I used wars to escaped, to the sweet youth: there and made a string, sweet; What could truly I have forfeited. With this coyness, Lady Blanche’

she said, that nowe vpright machine, other this chanted of things and communed with instant we must often shown. The World I blow: at once am I in things? For on my love will do; but I’ll steal, an’ few they are, carelesse corage accoied,

your career, juan admired the Graces, grouped in a cave eating himself: and his sons: and in her sight I am half returns no more foes by the sun; whistle back they see no sins of Cockney spirits. Nor broken, sweet flattering

the fold! But never to wed. Whose naked Armes stretch my love and dread, and of Dutchmen and puts apparel on my story, and the value might they look on the wet leather at a delightful things here, and the kitchen or you should

for evermore. What lips my lips in the faith! Wild men who can tell? That it so happens with the painter, singing bow- strings, laughs, and tenor of the North. Ah Sun-flowers. Angels, and woo’d, and put thy golden gifts and quite, for I was fix’d

upon he bade me divine amends for they went. As our dear are the burden grow i’ the clocks and chuckle, and splendours, better, I could not be shown; unless well: this conundrum of a crowd all into Gold trails’ said Cyril, Madam,

all tyrant, have wept with you, than empire, and so the conscience is weary, that exists, aromas, light, like a flower o’ the rose: and down, Sugar, my Philly? Fairies’ prophet should know I bear that on the dead? And what good old

gossips waiting years ago, and soon they gush’d out, and sweet prison. He neither eyes have done, somehow echoed to thy rest again in the drizling tears, to wash the poor privilege to turn the dreary moorland! They say, it is dark, an

Isis hid by altering in the lips. And she began. The miller does not your lips apart a corners cried, return, twould men have snake, and though but rarely. Preacher can heal; the lilac, with her will blighted Troth, and chosen that she

did bring they live in a rusty hinges here: ’ but No! Shall be on you in those who yet resembling dew: or glittered like fine needs fight with golden dreamt of loyal Life: the offence, he cannot tell, and that’s fair, ’ said Cyril, Madam, he

thin understand me: I’m a beast with your own desert eyes, but we three sat muffled moonlight— three street’s hushed, and looking well can’t discontent to point: my Lady.—Farewell thro’ all my carpenter, the Wand of dressing once adieu; nor dare

I chide the beaded-curtaines of those ribbed with all kinds, my condition between the color of a romantic rose, The brief is like morning the World or Nation of our liberty. Of wrong, and heart in love near-on ten years of

Europe that can I now exanimate. Row, each failed rehab and jail sentence still, she replied, with other’s colours laid by art’s disgrace, not only bedded with Faith within. That touch my practice up—he’ll not recaptured on the best.

Betwixt mine eyes from duty, through Berlin, Dresden, and fowl, and they treated shall sound of unjust Fortune was, and in a court compact of love, the bit of cloud, for I can see the chain, to shake mankind. And now Will’s eyes best doth required.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #213 texts #ballad sequence

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peachesandmilktea · 2 years

Text

𝓢𝓹𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓛𝓲𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓼' 𝓡𝓮𝓭

ɢʏᴜᴛᴀʀᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Gyutaro wants, Gyutaro needs, Gyutaro craves. One day, he decides to take.

TW: Yandere, Mentions of Violence and Murder, Non-Consensual Touching/Kissing, Implied Dubcon, Slightly Inaccurate Hanakotoba (Japanese Language of Flowers).

Her lips were painted red.

The color was pretty, the nuance so vivid it reminded Gyutaro of the sunset of windy days, scarlet stretching over the sky as he used to marvel at it, back when he was still human. Red azaleas wore the same dress in the dead of winter, crimson against the coat of snow, ruby against the white of the makeup that covered the nameless girl’s face.

She smelled like camellias.

The scent of warriors, a sweet, flowery perfume that lingered in the air long after she’d left a room. Gyutaro let it fill his senses at each given opportunity, gorging himself into that smell he’d never thought he’d ever crave for, or at least not as much as he did now that she was the one to wear it. Camellias were the flower of divinity, and the image did suit her well, after all.

Fleeting, pretty flowers.

A bad omen, the symbol of death held in its scarlet petals.

Daki didn’t care to ask for her name and so, Gyutaro never knew it, though he’d often wondered if she’d bear an alias as sweet as her scent. Tsubaki, he’d call her in the depths of his mind, the abysses of which she’d somehow found her way to. Her presence had settled there, unexpectedly, and was now part of him just like his sister was, in some surprising way.

It wasn’t enough, though.

Fantasies weren’t tangible. Images couldn’t be touched.

And, oh, did he want to touch.

To feel her skin shiver under his rough fingers. To trace the shape of her jaw, of her throat, of her collarbone with icy digits. To sink his teeth into her flesh and revel in her cries for help. To feast from her heart, to drink from her veins, to take and steal and devour until he possessed her whole.

He wouldn’t share, not even with Daki.

And so, he kept his hunger concealed, making a secret out of the feelings that were eating at his mind and tearing it into pieces as long as he didn’t satiate his cravings. Instead, he watched, watched, and watched through his sister’s eyes, stolen glances and hidden stares, anything to feed his obsession and soothe his yearning.

It made it worse, somehow.

Rot spread through his chest whenever he watched as the camellia-scented girl worked alongside his sister, smiling and laughing and letting sweet nothings spill from her lips coated in azalea-like crimson. She’d tilt her head to the side, doe-eyes raising to the men she’d been trained to entertain, and mold would eat at Gyutaro’s organs, heart and lungs and spleen alike. He’d feel them decay beneath his skin, no matter that the mere thought of it was impossible.

The feeling was there, as surely as if she’d cursed him herself.

She consumed his flesh with a glance, tore at his mind with the sound of a sigh.

Each breath that crossed her lips was like sun rays, as deadly as they were exquisite.

He craved, wanted, needed to consume her too. Maybe the taste of her would soothe the ache that prickled his inners, he thought, or at least would it make her disappear from everyone else’s sight but his. He’d possess her then, truly and wholly, once her blood, flesh and spirit rested in his body and soul, never to be known by anyone but him.

He wondered if she’d taste like camellias.

He’d lay some on her grave, if she was given one once he was done with her.

The night he made his move, the moon was full, hanging in the sky like the silver coins she liked to marvel at whenever her patrons filled the palms of her hands with it, that hard-earned salary of hers. In the distance, the clamor of voices and the faint sound of faraway music were thick in the air, those faint noises the only thing troubling the silence of her room.

He’d creeped inside it, quietly pushed the paper doors, each of his moves slow and gentle like he wasn’t used to be. All to make the moment last, for he’d be the true demon of her nightmares once she noticed his presence, sweet little victim awaiting for slaughter.

For now, though, she was entranced in the sight of the moon.

She sat by her window, a tiny little thing that barely let her peek outside. Moon rays licked at her cheeks, drowning her eyes with starlight that sparkled like diamonds in her irises. Her hair was untied for the first time, falling down her shoulders to the small of her back, long as she was required to keep it.

In her mane, hanging between the pretty strands was a red spider lily.

A final goodbye, it meant.

The flower born from separation. The one that adorned graves in the prettiest cemeteries. Its petals were a pinkish hue like the sunset color she wore on her lips still, and Gyutaro’s breath got stuck in his throat when she parted them to welcome a snowflake fallen on the tip of her tongue through the open window.

Hunger, hunger, hunger.

It tore at his entrails in an instant, rot and mold spreading not on his skin this time but underneath, where he couldn’t claw through it with bloody fingers and sharp nails. He still tried, though, maiming his own flesh until the pitter-patter of the drops of blood falling from his wounds on the tatami of her room made the girl raise her eyes to his.

Piercing both his body and soul with a single stare.

Her lips parted again, not for snow or pretty words this time, but to let out a scream.

She couldn’t though, not when he closed the distance between his body and hers, silencing her with a hand still shaky from the raw feelings that made a mess of his thoughts. She struggled against him, tried her best to push him away, free her voice as if anyone could save her from his grasp, but to no avail.

It was as if he’d caught a butterfly.

Weak, weak, weak, and still so desperate to spread its wings and tumble into the night sky.

“Hush,” he ordered, voice as low as he could muster. He didn’t want to be disturbed, after all. “Not a single word.”

Yet, he couldn’t keep away the smirk that crept on his face, revealing his sharp teeth and stale breath to the nameless girl who watched him with doe-like eyes. Tears like pearls sparkling in the moonlight lingered there, barely held back by the sheer force of her will, but soon enough they rolled down her cheeks and he leaned down, closer and closer and closer, to taste them. She shivered under the feel of his tongue following the damp trails littering her skin, reveling in the salty taste and the sweet scent emanating from her.

Exquisite.

He couldn’t get enough.

He wouldn’t ever get enough.

And what would happen once he devoured her, once she was nothing but a mere memory? It would be like before, when he’d kept himself hidden, when he waited, watching and observing. She’d be nothing but a fantasy, an image that couldn’t be touched nor felt under his fingers, a simple thought that lingered in his mind only. He wouldn’t get to bask in her fear as she looked at him, then, wouldn’t be able to feed on her terror anymore. The sight of her pretty eyes diving into his would be a thing of the past and nothing else.

It was a different kind of hunger, he realized.

One that couldn’t be, wouldn’t be soothed by the taste of blood and the feel of flesh and meat ripping between his sharp teeth. It was a craving that lasted, not a hole in his stomach but one that spread through his chest instead, peaking through his rib cage and settling there until she filled it with whatever she had to give or whatever he could take from her.

His fingers slipped to her lips, digits gently brushing against the skin there, plump and soft and so damn pretty.

She didn’t scream, didn’t plead, didn’t beg, simply looking at him with that fearful gaze that made fireworks spark in his heart, thump, thump, thump, his heartbeats louder than they’d ever been. He felt the stupid organ threaten to rip through his chest when he gave a slight push on her lower lip, letting his fingers rest on her tongue.

She was so warm.

And he was so damn hungry.

“Are you going to kill me?” she whispered when his hand parted from her mouth, mourning the loss of her warmth though he’d only felt it for a second.

There was some type of recognition in her eyes.

She’d heard the stories, the whispered legends of demons that roamed the night and feasted from the flesh of young maidens like her. He looked like one, he knew, the kind of monster that could only be the stuff of nightmares, a terror in the darkness, a beast who found shelter in the shadows only.

“Yes,” he breathed, because though he wouldn’t let her heartbeat cease he would still tear her life from her grasp and make it his.

Another tear rolled down her cheek.

Pretty like chrysanthemum petals fading away in a gust of wind.

“Make it quick, please” she begged, letting her eyelids flutter close, denying him the sight of her gaze as she waited for the sweet embrace of what she thought would be death. She raised her chin, baring her throat, offering herself as a sacrifice, a little lamb awaiting its slaughter with pure, submissive devotion.

The red spider lily fell from her hair, slowly descending to the tatami next to her bare feet, scarlet petals like blood stains littering the floor there.

She trembled under his touch when he leaned in, and she winced as she expected the pain, the suffering, the hurt of his teeth tearing through the soft flesh of her throat. Instead, she felt the gentle caress of his lips there, kind and slow and sweet like he’d never really known how to be.

Her eyes startled open, and he pulled her into a violent kiss before she could protest.

All gentleness put aside this time.

If Gyutaro had known the taste of flowers, he was sure he would have found it in the warmth of her lips. He nipped at the skin there until she parted them so that he could feast from her at will, diving and drowning and melting into the sweet feel of her tongue against his. Each touch, each contact stole his breaths away and made him crave for more, more, more.

He wasn’t hungry now, but famished instead.

Once he let her go, she took a step back, shaking on her legs like a newborn fawn.

The fabric of her kimono parted in some places, the wear made messy by the way she’d struggled against him. Her ankles were bare, her shoulders too, the moon rays that poured through the windows gently licking her silky skin and making him crave for closer contact again, and again, and again, until he could soothe that yearning for her flesh at last.

She caught his gaze.

And once again, recognition filled her eyes because she knew that look. He did, too, had seen it a thousand times in the irises of scummy men that came and paid for the girls trapped in that goddamn place, and he could only imagine it in his own eyes, sparkling in the darkness of night like a threat, the promise of something worse even than death at his hands.

Lust. Obsession. Possession.

It wasn’t what it was, not really. Gyutaro was stronger than those fleeting emotions, the ones that made human men fall to their knees and beg for a scrap of attention. No, it was harsher, deeper instead. It ran through his veins, burned underneath his skin, settled in his heart until becoming fully and wholly part of him.

Love, maybe.

“Will you let me go if I…” she started, letting the end of her sentence hang in the air, unspoken words dying on her lips instead as she toyed with the hem of her obi, undoing it so that her kimono would fall open and reveal the silky expanse of her skin.

It was something she’d done a thousand times before, he knew.

Yet, it didn’t matter, for it wouldn’t happen again for anyone else but him.

He’d touch where others had touched before, erasing the feel of their fingers to replace it with the icy coldness of his own hands instead. He’d kiss where others had kissed, and leave marks as scarlet as red azaleas, as red spider lilies, as red camellias. He’d worship and love where others had taken and maimed, and maybe she’d thank him eventually, or maybe not. He wasn’t delusional enough to convince himself that she’d crave the touch of someone like him like he did hers.

An ugly, disgusting, murderous monster.

Falling for a pretty, gentle, nameless maiden.

She took a step towards him, hopeful that she’d somehow found the key to her salvation, and he welcomed her into his arms, never telling her that there was no freedom to be had for her now that he’d taken the first taste. She kissed him with all the fervor in her heart, all of her desires to live and her dreams of a future that was her own, and he kissed her back with all the knowledge that he’d steal all of those wishes from her as soon as she satiated his current hunger.

She tasted like camellias.

Smelled like chrysanthemums.

Her skin soft as the petals of that red spider lily under his touch.

Mine, mine, mine, he thought, swallowing each of her breaths and whimpers against his tongue. She’d be his alright, now and forever, and damned would be anyone who thought they could have her for themselves. Of ghosts and monsters, he was the strongest, and he couldn’t wait to show her just how monstrous he could be.

Yes, he would.

He’d pluck every flower from her garden and smile, satisfied, as the petals scattered in the wind.

---

It's been so long since I wrote a one shot omg!!!!!

and also I guess it's the very first one I write outside of BNHA? I had so much fun writing it, I hope you enjoyed it just as much!! Sorry if it's ooc at times, i based it mostly on Gyutaro's wikia article dnsjkdnsjk I didn't read KNY's manga and the anime isn't done with his story yet.

Please please please tell me your opinion ❤

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jangofctts · 3 years

Text

Mirrored Heart (captain rex x fem!reader)

rated: 18+ explicit

word count: 5.6k

warnings: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, fingering, blow jobs, clone space racism?

a/n: ANYWAY HERE IT IS. ive had this draft saved since like a year ago and just now finished it. anyway kwjrkejh here YALL GO. also thank you @jango-fettish FOR LETTING ME BORROW SYRENA

It's curious.

Well, you, as a whole are curious—completely outside the realm of what Rex considers normal. As far as senators go, that is.

You're grumpy for one—worse than Skywalker and far more snide than Kenobi—a near gargantuan task bordering impossible. Wit and cleverness come to you easier than breathing, but it's your unwavering kindness towards himself and his brothers that sticks out like a blaster burn against alabaster white walls.

He passed it off as a joke—some sort of mockery. Rex’s existence has been full of them. The past year it’s been made glaringly clear as to what the clones are to the people of the republic—tools. Mindless war machines dressed with flesh and bone, heart and sinew instead of durasteel and a circuitboard. Humanity has been skimmed over with excuses and debates over the hollow argument that clones were created for the sole purpose of war—nothing more. Ignorance is bliss when you are not the one fighting tooth and nail for petty skirmishes and the survival of your family.

Ithyea, your home monarchal planet, is a newer member of the Galatic Republic—one of the firsts to advocate for clone rights—cutting through each argument with the steel headed javelin of hope and determination. Controversial in the eyes of the galaxy but no less than true. Yet with controversy, comes chaos.

Wedged between Takodana and the Cerean Reach hyperspace lane—it’s an essential key to accessing more neutral space sectors without stepping on any toes. While the planet does mirror the size of a larger than average moon, there’s nothing but grandeur with the cutting edge advances in space travel and military innovations. An arts district too, one that’s presented multiple times for the Senate apparently. Rex has yet to see it. It’s an easy guess as to why Ithyea has gone under pointed attacks from the Separatists—it’d be foolish not to try.

And of course comes the intergalactic mess of politics. You are not Ithyea’s first senator. Or second…or third. Just in the last six months, three of your predecessors have been picked off—two disappearances and a suspicious poisoning sandwiched between them. Which sides these assassinations stem from is anybody’s guess—a mix of both perhaps—all to silence and stamp the voice of your people out.

Heavy are the shoulders that wear those abhorrent senatorial robes, and Maker did it take some convincing for another Ithyean to step to the chopping block. It’s just…no one thought it’d be you. The infamous captain of King Arrian Felian’s elite guard—trained in combat levels high enough to contend some of those within the ranks of the Jedi Order. When your name comes up in conversation, it certainly doesn’t scream diplomacy.

Rex is not surprised that you hold the current record of Ithyean senators for surviving the longest. Evading an astonishing two attempts on your life by the skin of your teeth. You were just downright lucky the third assassin missed their mark. Sure, the blade of Syrena Aster skimmed the right side of your cheek and left behind a nasty scar to remember her by, but kriff—even with your background and low levels of public presence, you’re a high priced target. Whoever placed an order with the Heretics, really wants to see you six feet under.

Rex hasn’t been given the full report on exactly who the Heretics are—a rag tag bunch of untrained Force users and skilled assassins from what he’s gathered—but regardless, this attack is just the beginning. Until the Senate and the Jedi are able to retract the price on your head, you’re stuck under protective custody. Usually ushered away into the Jedi Temple or tagging along with General Kenobi and Skywalker. Despondently, no matter the circumstances of your protection, it can’t shield you from the dreadful invitations to senatorial luncheons.

And yes, you tried to slip by for this one.

You don't brush elbows with other senator’s like many of the members in the Jedi Order and your own cohort do. In fact, you actively avoid even speaking to them unless necessary, let alone stand in the same room with seven of them. Odd for an elected official of diplomacy such as yourself to be so cold shouldered—Rex would think senators wanted to mingle.

It's curious because you're standing in plain sight and yet no one pays you any passing thought. General Kenobi and Skywalker hold the majority of their attentions, shoulders already taught with exasperation at keeping everyone from tearing out each other's throats for, kriffing five minutes. Yet you...you are completely at ease, leaning up against a stone pillar, observing the unfolding chaos from afar with a keen eye.

Before Rex realizes he's stepping towards your position, you glance over and dip your chin in greeting. The ghost of a smirk pulls at your normally grim facade—his heart skips. "Captain."

"Senator," he mimics, posting himself to your right. There’s still a thin, healing scab from the assassin’s blade that extends from the swell of your cheek to your ear. Ouch. “Enjoying the evening?"

You snort. "Hardly enjoying it, Rex."

Stars—you shouldn't be allowed to say his name. Your words are razor-sharp like a jagged vibroblade, meant to jab and pierce through armor—tear a person to pieces without having to lift a finger. Everything about you is rough, gritty, brutal, unbecoming of what a senator should be, but—

You mouth his name, purring out the singular syllable with such tenderness that it's like a punch to the gut.

It's hard to swallow and he needs to clear his throat—an embarrassing act on his part, but your attention has already returned back towards the meandering senators. "How d'you mean?"

"Well," you sigh, "let's just say smalltalk isn’t my strong suit."

"Aren't you senators s'pposed to like diplomacy n' such?"

Your thumb smoothes over your bottom lip in thought as you shrug. "Diplomacy? Sure. Politicians? Can’t say I like them. I just—"

You wave your hand around, gesturing vaguely to the crowd. "I just don't understand why they can't say what they mean. Telling someone to have a nice day shouldn't entail certain death, y'know?"

"Speaking from experience?" He teases, gently prying into that harder than beskar wall you've created for yourself. There's fissions in your foundation and he means to tear it down all for just a mere scrap of information.

Your eyes flick over, your lips curling into a vulpine grin. “Perhaps...Though, it was partially my fault, I have to admit.”

“You’ll have to tell me the story sometime, Senator.”

You nod. “Yes, one day—when there aren’t so many political ears jumping at the chance of gossip.”

A swell of laughter interrupts your chat, your attention gravitating to Obi-Wan—ever the charmer with the crowds. The end of your mouth pulls into a frown as you sigh and carefully scratch at your brow with the back of your thumb. Rex might be pulling at straws, but what he mistook as you being standoffish may just be your nerves. Socially awkward and flustered when speaking in such an intimate setting.

Rex’s first instinct is to reach out and place a hand over your shoulder in comfort, but he’s not sure how you’ll respond to the touch. Flip him over your shoulder probably—

Instead he forces himself to jumpstart the conversation—something to distract from your anxieties. “I hope you don’t mind me asking—“ His heart beat kicks up into a flurry of wild beats as you turn you head. “What uh..wh—did you want to become a senator?”

He likes it when you smile—like you’re letting him on some sort of coy secret. You shift your weight and shrug. “The king asked me personally. I’m flattered he thinks I’m clever enough—insulted he sends me to these abysmal gatherings like some sort of show pony.”

Rex chuckles. “Yeah, can’t say I like ‘em either.”

“Although…” Your thumb runs over your lip again, a sparkle of mischief igniting behind your eyes. “As a senator, I do get the occasional tidbit of gossip. Here, I’ll catch you up—“

The captain startles when you snatch his elbow and yank him closer. Maker he’s glad for his helmet because your lips brush against his earpiece as he leans down to reach your height.

“Look." You whisper, nodding casually in the direction of a particularly young senator with a shock of white hair. She's swathed in a pool of royal blue silk, much too large for her tiny frame, and all but hanging off Skywalker's arm with glittered nails filed into points. "That is Senator Ceci Paare of Corellia. She looks innocent, no?"

She does. Wide, crystalline green eyes stare up at the Jedi Knight as a pretty giggle escapes past her ruby painted lips. Skywalker grimaces.

"I quite like her," you continue with a sly grin. "Even if she does try to influence public opinion by an invitation to bed."

There's no time to process as you focus in on an older man. His hazy blue skin, ash white lips and vermillion green eyes cut an almost nightmarish profile, accentuated by mountains of black robes. Rex can’t recall what planet the senator represents. The senator holds his head stiffer than rebar to keep the ornate golden circlet from slipping off, his white lips curling in distaste as Orn Free Taa of Ryloth places a meaty hand over his slender shoulder.

"He is Lord Tal’en Sol Ra'ah. Cunning, but sympathetic to the pleasures of gambling."

It's a game to you—of perceptions and nuances only a trained eye can roll over. Rex expects nothing less. This sort of thing has been hammered into the very essence of your being since you were little—reading an enemy before they can strike. It works on politicians marvelously well.

Truth be told Rex should be paying more attention—but the closeness of your face to his helmet is maddening. His heart twists and coils as your bare hand skims along his gloved one—kriff. He’s not gonna make it before he bursts into a thousand little pieces.

Rex’s spell of lovesick yearning recedes as you swear under your breath. It was only a matter of time before someone approached your little corner.

"Oh, Maker save me," you hiss under your breath as a young Mirialan saunters over, the swatches of rich red and brilliant gold accentuate his violet skin like a bloody bruise. "Pretend you're speaking with me."

"I am speaking with you," Rex snorts.

Your hand waves in dismissal as your brows stitch together, hands balling into fists. Your jaw clenches as the senator in question puts on a dazzling smile. You look downright panicked. Rex has witnessed you face down numerous senators older than dirt and close to blowing away in the wind with plucky fervor, assassination attempts, being held captive, and you're frightened…by this?

This is too good.

Rex has half a mind to help you, wheel you away from your little predicament, but his intrigue with seeing your oh-so-solid resolve crumble is much too valuable and entertaining to pass up. He's going to remember this for years.

"Rex."

"Senator," he mimics, not at all frightened by your poisonous glare. "Some diplomacy might do you good."

You begin to snarl out a threat but are decidedly cut off by your object of horror planting himself before your hiding spot. You cower into the corner like a boxed in loth-cat. "Ah, my favorite Ithyean! I had begun to worry you would not make it, my dear friend."

"Senator Lin," you sigh. The smile you offer is tight and thin; a nervous one much in the same way one would be if presented with a box of toenails for a birthday gift. “How pleasant to see you."

Senator Lin’s deep violet lips part with an easy smile. He waves a hand in dismissal, his silver rings glinting in the warm lighting. "Please—call me Toluka. No need to bother with such formalities between companions."

Rex suddenly understands your trepidation with the Mirialan—he’s slimy. And, not to mention, not at all ashamed with the lecherous looks as his eyes sweep down your body. Rex clenches his teeth and folds his arms behind his back. He’s regretting not heeding your warning now…

Try as you might through brutal small talk and chilly answers, Senator Lin refuses to take the hint. A dark plume of venom green lashes through Rex’s chest as the Mirialan places a friendly hand over your shoulder. You grimace as Rex bristles and glares through the visor of his helmet.

Senator Lin’s lips pull into a gaudy smile as he glances at Rex and then at you.“My dear, don’t you know? It’s not worth wasting your time with a clone. After all, they’re all the same person. How boorish—come join us at the table.”

Your teeth bite into your cheek as your temper, like the silver of blade through the darkness, cuts through your steely irises. With poised nonchalance, you lift your hand and pinch Senator’s Lin’s fingers between your own and pry them off your shoulder. “Is that so?”

“Your campaign, valuable as it may be,” Lin continues, “is a useless endeavor. They are not our equals and never will be--you must know that."

Rex forces himself to remain calm—collected and certainly not imaging a thousand and one ways he’d like to see his fist breaking the fragile bones of the senator’s face.

"Fine buttons stitched upon your shoulders do not compel your worth, Senator,” the harshness of your words is a blow straight to Lin’s ego. His well-groomed brows furrow drastically as his tongue struggles to play catch up and find words to repair his shattered pride.

There’s no chance for Senator Lin to regain his footing as your snatch Rex’s wrist and sweep him out into the hall. Rex can feel your anger roll off of you in waves, frighting and holding the same caliber of roaring waves thundering against black, craggy rocks. It’s a miracle the night didn’t end with your hands wrapped around the senator’s throat or a blaster shot through the chest.

When you reach the lower halls of the cruise ship is when you release Rex’s wrist. You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers and release a long, dramatic sigh.

"You are worth far more than that pompous ass," you say with enough edge to slice through a droideka's shields. "He has no right to say those things to you."

“It’s alright,” Rex soothes, placing a hand over your bristling shoulder. “I’ve heard worse.”

Your features scrunch up into a wince. “That...that doesn’t mean you have to suffer through more of it, Rex.”

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair and loosen the heavy outer robes strung around your shoulders. You shrug out of them and fold the thick swaths of fabric over you arm—revealing the under layers of your uniform. You toss the bundle of fabric to the floor with a disgusted grimace and sit on the cargo crate closest to your left.

“Really—it’s ok.” Rex assures again. “I—“

You hold up a hand and shake your head. His mouth snaps shut. “I won’t hear it. To me you are nothing short of perfect and I refuse to argue about it. Maker knows I already do that for a kriffing living.”

There’s a fragile lull in the hollow space—the distant chatter of voices and strange music collecting in the corners. You stand once again, toe to toe with the Captain and there it is again, that elated pitter patter of his heart thrumming through his veins. The nerves of being so close to you—you sweet face and not being able to touch you.

“Let me see your face.”

His hands come up to the edges of his helmet without hesitation, a hiss of hair escaping the seal once he pries it off. You smile and take a step closer until the only thing separating you and him is his helmet.

Rex’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into your hand you gingerly place over his jaw. “I wish the entire galaxy could see you through my eyes,” you whisper, the warmth of your soft palm radiating out and warming his entire body.

It’s a matchstick to kerosene—his helmet clatters to the ground and there’s only a second to spare as both hands move to cup his cheeks, dragging him into a mouthwatering kiss.

He hasn’t kissed many people—save for those rare times at 79’s, head swimming under the haze of one too many shots of Corellian fire whiskeys where he could barely distinguish his ass from his hand. Those drunken make-outs were nothing like this.

No—this…this is what a kiss should be like.

He dreams about you all the time—so constantly ravenous that all he can feel some days is pure ache. Every and all words that spin around his head starts with you and finishes with his pounding heart close to bursting free from his ribcage. Not in the same way a flood rips through an unsuspecting village—more like the brilliance of a thousand doves, marble white plumage thrashing free from their gilded cage. Your lips taste like the core of a newborn star—scorching and yet still so sweet upon the tongue the same way caramelized sugar sticks to the roof your mouth. You are his first and last everything.

There’s a certain kind of tragedy hidden beneath your tongue, fragile promises and the eggshell thin shards of hope stapled to the roof of your mouth. Rex will take it—seize any threadbare strand and run with it—spool it into the palm of his hand until you’re wound so tightly together it’ll be impossible to untangle.

Just when the dizziness sets in from elation and not enough air, you part and leave a sticky trail of warm kisses up his jaw. Rex groans and hugs you closer, you humid breath blooming across his skin. “Let me take care of you.”

The words on his tongue crumble to ash once he nods in agreement. Your kisses dip lower, not even stopping when the reach the edge of his chest plate. Stars, you’re…he never entertained the idea that your lips could look so divine in contrast to the battered plastoid. When you fold onto your knees his heart leaps to his mouth, a flare of arousal flashing through his groin.

You rest your chin over his codpiece and smile. “Do you like seeing me on my knees, sir?”

Rex huffs and studies at the opposing wall—

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Your fingers find the claps over his codpiece. “Can I take this off?”

Rex jerks his head in a yes but grabs your wrist. Not a rough hold—a tentative one as hesitation swirls in his eyes. “Don’t—don’t have t’ do this for me—“

You quirk a brow. “I want to because I like you, Rexy.”

A rosy blush blooms over his sharp cheekbones. The captain nods again.

The codpiece clatters to the ground and immediately you move your hand to palm him through his blacks. He grunts and squeezes his eyes shut. There we go.

Biting your lip, you pull down his blacks as far as the plastoid plating allows, greeted with the hard length of his cock, beautiful and flushed a rosy brown. Fuck—he’s thicker than you thought. You wrap your fingers around the base, delighted by Rex’s airy gasp as he throbs in your palm. A bead of liquid shines at the tip and just the sight of it makes your mouth water.

Moons—you should’ve done this sooner.

With a stuttering inhale, Rex trails his forefinger along your cheek and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. The pads of his fingertips skim lower and lightly pinch your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Your eyes lift to meet his. “You—you sure?”

You answer with a kiss over the dip of his navel, the skin searing hot under your lips. Rex curses and rolls his head back onto his shoulders when your palm slides up the length of his cock and then back down. Your grip is firm and tight as Rex slumps onto the crate, goosebumps rushing up his exposed flesh. Stars, when’s the last time he’s gotten release like this?

You lean forward and lick a languid line from the velvety skin of his balls all the way up to the tip. Rex’s hips jolt. You purse your lips and suckle at the head, dipping your tongue over the slit then down to trace the ridge of his frenulum all the while your hand rolls up and down his shaft. Rex tangles his fingers into your hair with a hiss. You open your jaw a bit wider and take him down a few inches into the wet heat of your mouth, feeling your lips stretch around his cock. You you drag the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft to make the thickness easier to swallow down, but he's still only halfway into your mouth when he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck—" Rex moans as his hips strain to remain still. “S’good—such a good girl.”

You glance up, eyes devouring the attractive length of his clean shaven throat and the underside of his chin. Rex swallows and let’s out another little sound. You whine softly in return and slip a hand into your pants, pressing your fingertips against your throbbing clit as you start to carefully bob your head up and down. Yeah—your jaw already aches just from holding his cock in in your mouth but fuck it—it’s worth it.

Rex's chest heaves with exertion as he mindfully rocks his hips up, pushing and rolling his cock deeper into your mouth until his shaft is nearly seated all the way in. Ditching your own pleasure entirely, you swallow around him, forcing down the urge to gag and simply hold him here. Allowing him a moment to just enjoy the soft warmth of your mouth before launching into the main event.

Rex murmurs your name and strokes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re beautiful—so pretty like—like this..ah—”

You pointedly hollow your cheeks and suck, his flattery warming your chest with pride. You swallow around him another time, squeeze his shaft, your fist following your mouth as you lift up then back down to the base. You grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you pull halfway up and let Rex rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans of your name.

Soon enough he’s twitching in your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as his head tips back onto his shoulders. The gloved hand sweetly cradling your cheek slips to the nape of your neck, tangling his fingers into you hair to anchor himself. He’s close—quiet gasps and broken curses tumbling out, hips unconsciously rocking into your mouth in search of release.

Rex whimpers your name, his leg jolting as you work your jaw wider and swallow him down, the dark curls tickling your nose once it brushes his groin. “Oh, fuck.”

You hum around him, delighting in the mumbled praises. Almost there…That’s it.

He’s dangling on the precipice—on tiny shove away from euphoria—

“Wait—“ Saliva dribbles down your chin when his cock pops out from your swollen lips, throbbing from the unintentional tease. “Maker—shit.”

If not for the gloves covering his hands, you’re sure they’d be turning white from how tightly he grips the edge of the crate. His eyes are squeezed shut, slightly bent forward as he falls away from the edge of his release. Rex sucks in a steadying breath, amber eyes meeting your confused ones.

“I don’t—can we—“ Rex’s eyes flit and focus on anything but you as he stutters and works up the courage to ask for what he wants. “Do we have time—“

You rolls your eyes and rest your cheek on his thigh. Silly man. “You wanna fuck me, Rexy?”

“Kriff, yes.”

You smile and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “I don’t think they’ll miss us."

Rex doesn’t complain when you take his hands and yank him onto the grubby floor and over your senatorial robes. He props his back against the crate as you shuck off everything below the waste and clamber into his lap. His hands, warm even through the leather, land over the swell of your hips and wrench you closer until your front presses up against his chest plate.

The rough prickle of his stubble is, in all sense of the word, addictive. He tilts his head to kiss you, the slick touch of his tongue on your bottom lip adding jet fuel to the fire low in your belly. Rex groans and cups your jaw, holding your mouth open to dance his tongue along the length of yours. You whine and shudder as he purses his lips and lightly sucks on your tongue before you both part.

Rex drags his teeth over your bottom lip as you both pant for precious air. His dark lashes sweep up his cheeks when he looks at you. This close you bare witness to the dazzling color of his eyes—crystalized pearls of amber over the crackled bark of pine tree in the midmorning sun. Muted gold threaded through the brown like fine lace and the slow shimmer of the sun dappled through water. To think such a man like him is dredged through the bloodied mud of war is despicable.

You blink away the swell of tears prickling at your eyes and kiss him once more. Sighing, you whisper down, mouthing soft nibbles and teasing kisses over his jaw and down his neck. Rex squirms and rock his hips up, your cunt clenching around nothing. You need him.

“Rex,” you groan. You slide your hand between your bodies and grab at his thick length. Rex gasps into your mouth, long fingers clamping onto your waist in a death grip. “I want you.”

“I’m yours.”

Your nibble at his earlobe as you grind your hips against his length, the folds of your cunt teasingly out of reach. “Touch me, Captain.”

Rex tears off his vambraces and gloves, hand wedging between your thighs, touching the very tips of his fingers to your throbbing clit. You whine and clench your jaw—the pleasure is raw—sizzling electricity that crackles with the deadly promises of your pleasure. It’s as if you’ve had the breath knocked out of your lungs the second he bears down a bit more on your clit, drawing tentative circles, each completion sending a shockwave of tightly spooled ecstasy through each and every nerve. You nearly sob as his fingers slip away.

“So wet already,” Rex moans as you tip your head back when two of his fingers begin circle your dripping cunt. They’re thick and long and perfect. Your hips stutter as your cunt easily accepts his fingers, the heel of his palm slotting perfectly against your pussy to stimulate your clit.

Maker you’re seeing stars as Rex rocks his hand into you—the bend of his fingers the perfect angle to catch all the right places that make you tremble. He kisses your cheek and moans your name into your ear, all low and gravelly—

Your body seizes up tight as you soar, plummeting off the edge only to tumble so fast and so hard that tears prick the corner of your eyes. Rex peppers kisses over your cheeks and runs his free hand through your hair, purring praise and adoration as you shudder—your mouth parted in a silent cry as you cum and dissolve into his hands.

When you suck in a steadying breath and open your eyes, Rex is gazing upon you with starstruck eyes—pure adoration that makes your cheeks flare hotter than the surface of two mini suns. Your teeth catch your bottom lip. You’re not sure you deserve to be looked at like this…

However, you’re impatient and running on stolen seconds. As much as you’d like to just simply stare at him—there’s not enough time. Rex wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and slides the tip of himself through your soaking folds. Each stroke against your still throbbing clit makes you buckle into yourself, but the angle that your knees are propped over his hips means you're stuck here.

Rex pauses and cups your cheek. His thumb scrapes over your cheekbone. “You want this?”

You place your hand over his and turn your head to mouth a kiss over the lines of his palm. Oh, fuck yeah. Kind of him to ask as if hadn’t just cum over his fingers but—no. “I need you to fuck me, Rex. That’s an order.”

Rex huffs out a low chuckle and bumps the crown of his forehead against yours. “As you wish, Senator.”

Rex runs the blunt head of his cock through your folds again, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the hard plastoid as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and wiggle. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s in no small. You’ll feel him for days, you’re sure of it as your cunt swallows inch after inch.

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw his clenched tight as sweat beads at his blonde hairline—Stars above, he’s a sight, struggling not to loose control the second he’s buried inside of you. Desire tickles up your spine, tugging at the fabrics of your being until all you can focus on his how Rex isn’t moving. You shift your hips in tiny, almost imperceptible motions, and squeeze around him.

“Damn—“ A ragged moans slices through his words as your gentle rocking morphs into needy jolts. It’s easy to fuck yourself onto his cock like this, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. “Fuck, cyare, you’re tight.”

You smirk and grab at his sculpted shoulders—it’s the push he needs. Rex snarls your name, cups his hands under the globes of your ass and pulls you off his cock nearly all the way out only to slam back in. There’s no time to adjust before Rex sets a pace, fevered and rabid All pent up energy collecting over the weeks you’ve known each other. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what feels like ages.

You squeal in surprise as Rex pushes you onto your back and hoists your legs around his hips. Rex buries his nose into the crook of your neck and moans your name like a sweet prayer wrapped in honeycomb. Rex shifts his weight, widening his knees to sink deeper into your cunt—his stubble tickling your throat as his staggered exhales burn hot over your skin.

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, scorching through each and every veins with the catastrophic brilliance of an imploding star. Shit—

“So good t’me—so perfect,” he huffs into your ear. Rex turns his head and steals a kiss. “Feel fuckin’ good stretched around my cock."

You clench around him hard as Rex’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s barely any build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of devastating warmth that sweeps through your body, from your aching center down to your toes. It steals away all the air left in your lungs and leaves your clutching his arm and shuddering for a hold in your own reality—the steady warmth of his body that’s unburdened by armor a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you.

His gentle, and pliant kisses morph into little pricks of his teeth over your neck and collar bone as his hips struggle to keep a definitive pattern. Rex’s curses string together and blur into nonsensical noises and loose tongue admittances that are comparable to moving inches from an imploding star.

“Where can—can I?”

You grab at his head and whine his name. “Anywhere—in me—you can cum in me.”

With a loving caress over back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, he reaches release. Rex’s moan is airy as his eyes slam shut and captures your mouth in a sizzling kiss. He’s twitching in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides and beginning to leak over your robes you lay over. Whatever.

Rex nips at your skin as the last dregs of pleasure jolt up your spine. Neither of you say a word as Rex’s hips come to a slow. Time trickles through your fingers like sand through an hourglass half empty but instead of rushing to dress, you choose to lie on the ground—two halves of a mess someone’s been meaning to clean up for the better part of a long while. You feel at home here—content as your fingers run up and down the back of his head, a bit irked by the armor still covering his back. You’re terrified of the months to come—but at least you have each other. After all, gardens will bloom and flourish with fresh blooded love and wild mistakes sculpted from passion forever if you believe hard enough…wont they?

#we out here #yeehaw #my writing #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #ct-7567 #captai rex #clone x reader #clone trooper x reader #the clone wars #tcw #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #star wars #sw

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professorspork · 3 years

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That is such a black and white view of the world. Penny died with a flesh and blood body like fria. She repeated the words of frias death to show her death here was the same. It was sad but it was meant to show how people who die remain with us. Plus penny only came back last time because her robot body existed and only Atlas had aura transfer systems which need two living bodies to work.

I mean-- lol, I can’t argue with you for complaining that I’m taking a black and white view when I said “there are two options,” so fair enough. yes, there’s a lot more room for nuance than my other post implied; of course there is. my heat-of-the-moment rhetoric is hardly immutable truth. and I have no beef with folks who are satisfied with things as we left them! that’s uh, probably the best attitude to have right now all things considered. And I think CRWBY’s more than capable of writing a show where they spin Penny’s death exactly as-is and that’s all we get and I make peace with it. after all, they’ve done it before.

but BECAUSE they’ve done it before, it makes me all the more convinced that that’s not what’s happening here. we know that people who die remain with us-- JNR’s entire Mistral arc was about coming to terms with Pyrrha’s death, in a very grounded and literal way. (I mean, and a metaphorical way. Vol 4 ends with them straight-up fighting the physical manifestation their own PTSD. it was evocative and devastating and lovely.)

but to say we’re doing the same thing here is to say we jumped through all of those hoops in Creation, and established everything we did about Penny’s personhood and soul and the limits of Ambrosius’s powers... just so that her death could be permanent, after her only having a body for like fifteen minutes. and that seems like a different genre of sad than this show tends to barter in. not impossible! it would be capital-T-Tragic if her exchange with Pietro on Amity really is the last they ever speak to each other. but if so, why establish everything we did in The Greatest Kingdom and Worst Case Scenario about how Penny 2.0 was made?

like, the math you cite-- she only came back last time because of her old body and the specific rules of aura transfer machines-- is mutable. the limits of science are what the narrative demands them to be, and people are discovering new aspects of their aura all the time.

Penny 2.0 had three components:

robot body (which may or may not have been mostly-new, but certainly wasn’t “living,” and yet the transfer worked) +

memory (Pietro said they “recovered her core” from Amity) +

Aura (Pietro’s). Which is why he said she couldn’t come back another time, because he’s run out of bits he can safely cut off from his own.

putting aside the fact that I think Winter would volunteer in a heartbeat to let Penny control her body Ratatouille-style from beyond the grave, I don’t think we have a shortage of options for [1]. Pietro could make yet another new robot body (harder without an Atlesian lab, surely, but not outside the bounds of what’s feasible). or Penny could manifest one exactly as she did in Creation, because she’s the one who made that body somehow, not Ambrosius. that’s text. so both Nuts and Guts are on the table as canon-compliant ways for her to have a vessel of her very own.

[2] is also on the table, because as Creation also established, Penny is not code, she’s a soul. Her memories and selfhood and essence, those are their own thing, and what’s left of them reside in Winter now. not a guarantee, but not impossible. not absurd. viable.

and as for [3]... Pietro’s not alone anymore. so many people love Penny. I think he’d still have to give a lil bit, because she’s his daughter and his contribution, to my mind, is both symbolically and practically required for a Penny 3.0, but he wouldn’t have to drain enough to hurt himself. not with Jaune helping by boosting everyone (and redeeming himself in his own mind for casting the killing blow); not with Ruby and Winter and all of their friends clamoring for the privilege of being allowed to put some aura on the pile. which means probably none of this will be resolved in Vol 9, but she didn’t come back immediately last time, either.

like. I can’t fault you for thinking I’m wrong when I’m the one having to be all charliedayconspiracyboard.jpg and you’re the one who’s like “I think the dead character is, in fact, dead.” that’s-- very valid! I also think I sound bonkers! But I also thought Summer Hound Theory was too out there and that no one would fall and go to superhell just because the opening credits implied it, so like. why not embrace the out-there theory and see how it goes?

what I know is, here’s where Penny left things with the man who made her:

-I lost you before. Are you asking me to go through that again? No. No. I want the chance to watch you live your life. -But Dad... I am trying to.

every time she’s asked for death, asked to make the sacrifice play-- from Ruby, from Jaune, from Winter-- it has in fact been a bid for extended life. a way to carry on. she’s trying to.

I think she’s going to keep trying.

#rwby #rwby spoilers #penny polendina #Anonymous

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kitkatopinions · 3 years

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(Rabbithole Anon) Y'know, I was going to send in an ask about just they could have made a compelling way to show how some people may have become hunters through pressure rather than an age excuse if they wanted to say some people weren't ready (joining to protect a friend who wanted to be one, wanting to travel for a variety of reasons, it being a general expectation but the person being hesitant) but it led to me wondering wait, would certain careers require a hunting lisence?

Okay, I love this rabbit hole. XD It illustrates a couple of RWBY problems here and it's the fact that they often are lacking in the character development/character journey department, and that they're often lacking in the world building department.

We actually have plenty of characters that can serve as examples for people who maybe should've thought twice about entering the Academy (when they did.) There are people who entered the Academy for the wrong reasons/not noble reasons, people who entered the Academy during a time they might not have been ready, and people who would be full on dangerous with a Hunter badge, and most of our mains fall under one of these categories (though mostly the first two.)

Ruby - Two years below the standard age of her class. Whether or not she was at the skill level of a first year (she was,) and whether or not she'd received special training from Qrow (she had,) Ruby was still essentially a kid, and her mind and body both hadn't developed completely. Ruby should have been traumatized after the Fall of Beacon and been allowed to show that more as a character, she should've had straight up PTSD, she should've been allowed to have emotion in Volume 4 than Jaune's sidekick who makes sad eyes when she sees him grieving. Weiss - Her main motivation for joining Beacon was to reclaim her family legacy. Yes, her desire was to reclaim it and use it for good, but it was still arguably more about personal and familial glory. On top of that, Weiss has been blatantly anti Faunus and has never so much as addressed that. Weiss's character journey should have reflected more personal growth, and either her unlearning much of her Faunus racism and clearly changing priorities from her name and family legacy and onto the actual people in need, or her flaws should've led her into being more of a morally gray character who displays her selfishness and pride (in a way that's actually addressed and treated like a flaw.) Yang - She expresses admiration for people like Ruby who want to help people and be kind, but her main point in becoming a Huntress was getting thrills and going where the wind takes her. She didn't join Beacon for any sort of serious purpose, and even when she rejoined Team RWBY in volume five, it was to be with her sister and not because of her own morals (not that I think she's lacking in morals, just that her main motive was different.) This could lead to her having to figure out a lot of what she actually wants, being unsatisfied with being a Huntress in Atlas, being in over her head when things get serious, being more mentally exhausted than the others after long days, etc. Jaune - Wasn't ready to enter Beacon. Idk if he just wasn't allowed to go to a lesser combat school like Signal or if he flunked out, but he wasn't up to scratch to get into Beacon and cheated his way in. On top of that, he lacked in the emotional maturity department as well when he entered. Jaune was a little more invested in his own appearance than Ruby was, but still seemed to have similar good reasons for wanting to be a Hunter. And he did grow a lot. But he was much less prepared, skilled, or equipped to deal with the training or the career and it's a miracle he didn't die in the initiation. Granted, Jaune was handled arguably better than anyone else, since a lot of this was addressed, but these days it feels like it isn't actually playing a part in his character anymore that he's way below the people around him, and I feel like it should still be impacting him. Penny: Honestly, Penny seemed very newly born during the Beacon Arc. She might have been combat ready, but she also started spilling secrets to the first person who was a little bit nice to her, and was clearly naïve and childlike. Imagine if it had been Emerald that had befriended Penny instead of Ruby. Penny dying and then getting resurrected should've been deeply traumatizing for her and it should've made her undergo some major changes and been treated with importance in the show. Qrow: Literally wanted to be a Hunter in the first place to try and learn how to murder Huntsmen. He might have changed later and it’s not exactly relevant, but he arguably shouldn't have joined when he did either. Meanwhile, Nora's just one big mystery, because we don't know why she joined, and Ren likely joined for good reasons, but neither of them have ever actually talked about their motivations. The only character we can safely say joined for noble reasons and who was up to scratch and ready when she entered is Blake, who also had good reason to not fully trust the system she was working with, so there could've been complications and character interest there as well.

Please don't get me wrong, that doesn't mean I don't think the others should've been in school, I love that they were! I just think the writers should've explored the various ways they might've been not fully ready, not completely well suited to the job they took. The characters are allowed to be flawed and to flounder and it'd make them more full, nuanced characters imo.

On top of that, we have other Hunters to look to as well, outside of our main cast. Cardin, for example, was a terrible person, still in school and already abusing what little power he had to target a member of an oppressed minority group and blackmail other kids into doing his bidding, while plotting revenge on someone for correcting him on his anti-Faunus answer to a question. People like him should not be Hunters, and he was arguably our first sign (of many signs) that the position of Hunter can and will be taken advantage of and misused by bad people. And although the After the Fall/Before the Dawn books aren't canon, while reading BTD (I haven't finished it yet,) Coco and all her team members but Velvet also struck me as people I wouldn't want to be Hunters and wouldn't want to wield any sort of power. Coco is proudly described by one of her friends as sadistic, lets her unfounded opinions of people cloud her judgement, shows respect and admiration towards criminals, and enjoys her classmates being afraid of her. Fox is self-described as sadistic as well and is a bully who tried to use a classmate's phobia against them in a brute-like interrogation. And Yatsuhashi is leagues above the two of them, but also bullied Neptune despite saying the words 'I don't want to be a bully' and threatened him.

There are so many ways the writers could've explored people who went to Beacon too soon, weren't ready, or entered for the wrong reasons. Instead, outside of one conversation in season two about the girls’ motivations and Ren exploding that Jaune cheated his way into Beacon all the way in season eight, it seems like the only take away we're supposed to get is 'all these kids are officially the thing they wanted to be in the beginning and they're all amazing at it, woo!' No acknowledgement of the fact that they could use higher education still, that some of them are still immature or naïve, that some of them are still below the combat level they should be in, that some of them kinda haven't done super well since they left Beacon (cough Ruby cough.) It's all just... Flat, lackluster. And meanwhile, characters like Cardin were written out of the show easily. We've had plenty of examples of corruption in the Hunter business, but the show hasn't paid any attention to that and still is treating being a Hunter like the only true noble goal and the only good and non-corruptible way to defend people, despite the fact that it clearly isn’t. Being a Huntress is not better or safer or more noble in-universe than being an Atlas soldier/Ace Op/Atlas hunter. I’m not saying that all of this needed to be featured, but exploring the differences in motivation and how the Hunter lifestyle affected the various mains could really flesh out their characters. Instead, by the time everyone is heading to Atlas in volume six, they all pretty much have the same reactions to everything and the same motivations and the same beliefs. The rare deviation - like Ren in volume seven and eight - is treated as bad and a mistake that must be rectified, rather than... A natural consequence of the group being full of different people with different upbringings and different motivations that result in different opinions. That sort of thing is only ever explored as a problem that makes someone lacking, and it’s really weird and it makes the show feel... Juvenile, and lacking in nuance or depth when it comes to the characters, which is a really big shame, since the characters have a huge amount of potential and exploring the differences between them and their reactions to being in way over their heads would be - I think - the natural place to take their characters? Especially because so far their storyline has been... Not the highlight of the show.

But, as for how semblances and Hunters should impact the world building, there’s a lot to say about that! They don’t explore a lot in RWBY outside of what’s relevant to the mains, leaving the world building feeling flat and like the world itself doesn’t matter much. RWBY often feels more like a video game world than anything else, which I believe @why-i-hate-rwby-now has pointed out, so credit to them for helping me realize it. There’s one large location per continent and a couple small villages where they only really talk to a town leader and village blacksmith, or encounter a fight, relevant NPCs and characters only going to certain locations that can further the plot, characters only mattering through the ways they interact with the protagonists and seemingly getting benched with nothing to do if they aren’t currently plot relevant, health bars that can be monitored over scrolls, every weapon and semblance has a name even if that name isn’t ever mentioned in show or might not really make a lot of sense, frequently encountered enemies of various threat levels who the characters can plow down without remorse because they’re not sentient or don’t have souls... The list goes on. But one of the ways that it feels very video gamey is that the magical powers actually don’t seem to impact the world.

We know people can have auras even if they don’t have semblances (Mercury, Torchwick, Watts,) and we know lots of even grown people don’t have auras (the citizens of Mantle in danger of dying of cold while our aura having mains aren’t,) but also that auras can be unlocked, by well trained seventeen year olds (Pyrrha,) and we also know that semblances can be unlocked from a very young age due to trauma (Ren, Neptune in EU) but some people are born with their semblances (Qrow and notably Blake use language suggesting they were born with their semblances,) and some semblances are passed down or hereditary (the Schnees.) Semblances can be passive (Qrow, Clover, Ironwood in word of author,) and uncontrollable, or active (almost everyone else,) and some semblances have carried personal negative effects like in the case of Qrow who was even named for being bad luck and Robyn who said people were on edge with her because she can sus out the truth via skin contact when she wants to. Also Mercury’s father was able to somehow take away his semblance.

That’s... Pretty much the extent of our knowledge and it doesn’t tell us much. What RWBY does is give each character abilities that make them iconic and different from each other as fighters, with a shield function that wears down slowly to explain how they can take certain hits and keep going while also allowing them to eventually suffer higher damage when that shield wears down. They had a character get this shield ability unlocked to explain the existence and function of it, and featured some characters who didn’t have the super powered abilities like Roman, an early enemy meant to herald in new, harder enemies who are more plot relevant, and Mercury, who makes up for it by having higher speed and functions exclusive to him through his prosthetics. And then they seemingly built a regular world unaffected by these powers. It sounds like a video game. Civilians just don’t have this power or the shield because they act as non-playable characters. In a way, it almost makes sense to me in conception, because when RWBY was originally created, it was high on visual appeal, fight choreography, and character design. The plot elements were small and the character stories seemed to be pretty simple, the only real complication to this being the White Fang plot, which has always been a major blight in RWBY. But one of the reasons why this video-game feel kinda worked at the start of RWBY was because the story and characters weren’t meant to be the focus of the story, so although the world building at the start was definitely lacking, the audience knew that things like auras and semblances were meant to hype up and add interest to the main highlights of the show: Design and fight choreography. At least that’s what I assume. But in volume three, they started to lay the groundwork for more, bigger plots, more focus on the story, the characters journeying to the outside world, undergoing personal arcs, and that’s what V4 and onward started focusing on.

To be clear, I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing. I started really liking RWBY for its potential and concepts after getting through the first couple episodes of V1, but I actually really enjoyed quite a bit of V4 and V5 even though the design drastically changed and the fighting had gone way down in quality because I found some of the new focus on characters and the plot to be compelling, interesting, or to also have a lot of potential (though I was let down over and over in regards to pay off later.) However, with the new focus on the characters and storyline rather than design and fight choreography, they really needed to do some legwork on fixing the aura and semblance systems and paying attention to world building and making sure the world felt well put together, nuanced, and real. And I don’t feel like they ever did that.

Why is Pyrrha able to unlock auras? Well, because the writers wanted to explain the concept of auras and used Jaune - the unprepared - to do it. But now, auras are actually an important part of the story - for example, the people of Mantle don’t have unlocked auras, so will die of cold, but it doesn’t affect our heroes because they do have unlocked auras. So who can unlock auras? Is it a learned skill or is it hereditary? If it’s a learned skill, why isn’t everyone eager to learn it especially in places where it’s life or death if they don’t like in Atlas? If it’s a hereditary skill, why aren’t the people who have that skill put on a pedestal and being pressured into using that skill to save civilians in places where having an aura is the difference between life and death? In either case, why aren’t there people who professionally unlock auras? Why aren’t they on the pay roll in Atlas and Mantle? If it’s a skill that all powerful hunters have, why aren’t our heroes (who we’re supposed to think are now more powerful than Atlas’s best) unlocking auras for dying children in Mantle? Why don’t specialists and longtime fighters with Qrow, Winter, Robyn, Maria, or James have this ability if it comes with skill, time, or talent?

Why are semblances unlocking or morphing in times of trauma so rare? Why didn’t the Fall of Beacon unlock loads of new semblances and new semblance abilities? Why didn’t Ruby get a new semblance upgrade when she saw Weiss getting stabbed? Why didn’t Weiss unlock a new semblance ability when her plane was crashing? Why didn’t Pilot Boi unlock his semblance during the same occasion? Why is it that Jaune didn’t get a semblance upgrade when the light bridges were disappearing? Why didn’t Blake get a semblance upgrade when Yang fell into the void? Why did Ren get a semblance upgrade because he was upset while with the Ace Ops after Oscar got captured, but Nora doesn’t get an upgrade while she’s electrocuting herself? If semblances sometimes unlock in times of truama, why is it that some characters like Oscar and Torchwick and Jaune pre-V5 who we know have encountered lots of trauma just still don’t get semblances? If you can train your semblance into upgrading, why is it that we don’t see long time hunters and fighters unlock more semblance abilities, like Qrow, Winter, Robyn, Maria, or James? It just doesn’t make any sense! And I get that stories always have things happening just because the writers want it, but in RWBY, the hand of the creator is so obvious that it’s ridiculous.

And then there are other questions. Do people avoid bad labor practices out of fear of causing a semblance awakening? Well, from what we see of the SDC, the answer is no. So why not? Why weren’t they worried about an uprising? Work rights becomes a lot trickier when you have to add in tons of qualifiers. Maybe it’s illegal to use a semblance at work, but the SDC also has a history of child workers like Adam who can’t always control it (like Neptune couldn’t control his,) so are there laws protecting child laborers? Perhaps not, since you know, they were already child laborers, so were already suffering unchecked. Are there laws forbidding the use of semblances in government buildings, non-combat driven schools, or parks and libraries? And meanwhile, how would any of this apply to people with a passive semblance? How do you figure out that someone has a passive semblance? How do people know if they’re born with a semblance? Are there people that spend their whole lives having semblances that never get discovered? Do people have semblance detection... Semblances, that they get paid to use or do so out of charity? Did the Schnees rise to power due to their powerful and hereditary semblance, perhaps? Are people discriminated against if they don’t have semblances or pressured to become Hunters if they discover they do have semblances? Shouldn’t civilians in Mantle and Atlas be joining combat schools in droves in the hopes of unlocking an aura so they can better survive? And shouldn’t there be discrimination against people with certain semblances? Outside of Robyn saying she’s personally experienced mistrust, and Qrow’s self-hatred, we don’t see any real prejudice against certain semblance types, or for that matter, any praise or extra significance pointed to certain other semblance types. It would go a long ways towards world building if there were things like people having to divulge their semblance or lack thereof before entering Beacon, or for people to have to register a semblance evolution, or for Emerald to have lied about her semblance because “everyone knows illusion semblances automatically draw suspicion,” or for Qrow to comment that he’d never seen Clover in a Vytal Tournament, only for Clover to say his semblance was deemed ‘cheating’ back when he was in school so he hadn’t qualified. And on the flip side, you could have things like semblances being judged as better and more powerful based on how useful it might be, Pyrrha keeping her semblance on the DL because it’ll just bring more unwanted admiration on her, Sun keeping his own semblance on the DL too because it always make people put a lot of expectations on him, while Neptune’s semblance leaks and he deals with people treating him like he’s selfish and cruel for not wanting to use his own “gift of a semblance.” And people like Jaune could be bullied extra because he doesn’t have his semblance yet, and people in the stands at the Vytal Tournament could be chatting about “when are they gonna pull out their semblances?” and get annoyed and pouty when people don’t. To be fair, we do get things like Mercury’s father having declared his semblance a crutch, but... Still. why isn’t there more of this?

And we see the need for Hunter protection in villages like Kuroyuri and the village that Team RNJR stops to help on the way to Mistral. Small villages outside of the four kingdoms fall to Grimm, or are in danger of falling to Grimm. Ships get attacked by large and dangerous Grimm, we see (corrupt) Hunters on the train to Argus, accompanying for safety, and we see that with a rise of Grimm activity in Mantle, Hunters are dispatched to help kids travel to school. In a world like RWBY, fighting is essential for survival outside of the Kingdoms, and became very essential in the kingdoms as well once schools started going down. You’d assume there should be Hunters accompanying everyone traveling outside of the Kingdoms, resident Hunters living in villages outside the Kingdoms as their on-hand protectors (and more than one Hunters seems to be needed.) Hunters also could be extra protection for anything that’s definitely going to increase negativity, like hiring Hunters to bodyguard funerals seems like something that could be normal in the world of Remnant, and for visiting graveyards (we see Ruby get attacked by tons of Grimm when she visited Summer’s grave in the red trailer.) On top of that, celebrities and rich people hiring Hunters seems like it’d become pretty common. But all that we see outside of Dee and Dudley are traveling Hunters stopping to help people out of the goodness of their heart while they go place to place, and Kingdom Hunters who are assigned to things like border control, clearing out Grimm near or in the Kingdoms, and things like that. What we see is a Kingdom-centered morality complex our protagonists are one hundred percent invested in, Hunters are Kingdom driven and anything outside of that is a kindness, a job they can take or leave in passing. And on top of that, it seems like there aren’t a lot of people in the Hunter profession, and I feel like there should definitely be more. There are people like Jaune who didn’t make the cut but accepted that, we can only assume that there are drop outs too, so like... How many kids are there actually in a year at Beacon? I mean, look at where the Relics were found in the forest during initiation at Beacon.

This gives us a rough idea of how many people are in each year at Beacon. Assuming everyone graduates school and there’s no drop outs and no deaths, that’s a graduating class of twenty. That’s a very small number, comparatively. The job of a Hunter is dangerous. We know of Hunters that died (Summer, Pyrrha, Amber.) We know a lot of Hunters that have other jobs that take a lot of their time (Glynda, Ozpin, Robyn,) and lots of people who quit being Hunters too (Maria, Tai, Raven,) and Hunters who aren’t always on the field like Qrow who was a teacher for a stretch and acted as Ozpin’s spy, the Ace Ops who became part of Ironwood’s inner circle and therefore had a bigger picture, and even all of Team RWBYJNR, who got their Hunter licenses but are also more concerned with bigger picture stuff (if you don’t believe me just look at volume eight where JRY stopped defending Mantle to go rescue Oscar, and Team RWBN + Penny, who were involved in big picture stuff like launching Amity and then saving Penny the Maiden/their friend.) So out of a class of twenty, how many of them are even staying on the field? For a show pushing the narrative that Hunters are the ultimate saviors who are the only true good defense for the world, that condemns even the notion of an army... Like they villainized sending Team FNKI onto the battlefield while also treating it like proof of Ironwood’s evil when he didn’t want to stay and fight when Team RWBY said to, and also made Ironwood’s desire to move into having a robotic army to get soldiers off of the battlefield part of his... Over reliance on machinery, which is full on suspicious considering their ableism towards Ironwood and the fact that he literally has to rely on machinery, but that’s a topic for a different post and this one is already so long. But yeah, my point is that we’re meant to see the army as bad. So if we’re meant to see Hunters as the only true and pure form of defense (which is already off because we know it’s corrupted,) there ought to be way more people in the Hunter field.

As for the schools, we only know of a couple of schools that exist outside of RWBY as combat schools that seem to act as basic training before people go to Beacon. We know of Signal, the school Ruby and Yang went to that Qrow was a teacher at for awhile (I have lots of teacher Qrow headcanons, but sadly Qrow being a teacher wasn’t very well explored,) and we also know of Sanctum in Mistral and (in the EU) Oscuro in Vacuo, presumably one of these existing in Atlas as well. I personally headcanon that there are a lot of these smaller combat schools littering the whole of Remnant (but then again, I also headcanon that the Kingdoms of Remnant are bigger than just one very large city, lol) and that a lot of people attend these schools even if they don’t go on to join one of the Hunter Academies, but this isn’t necessarily supported by canon, I think. But as for other schools...I think it’s fair to assume that there are at least elementary schools, since everyone can read, write, and presumably do basic math, and what we do know is that Ilia went to a prep school in Atlas (which was info dropped in Blake’s pre-V5 trailer, not even stated in the show proper,) so we can probably safely say that people who don’t go to the Huntsman academies go to some form of high school, but you’re right that we don’t see this actually in action. I personally always headcanon that Whitley had a tutor, since Jacques wanted to avoid too much outside influence.

I am so sorry that this response got so away from me and I myself got into so many rabbit holes as well. XD I just have a lot to say about the world building in RWBY (or sometimes lack thereof.) Although I admit that I’m not as into or as good at analyzing as blogs like why-i-hate-rwby-now, but yeah, this is... A very long post. Sorry!

#rwde #anti rwby #rwby bashing #rwby hate #this post includes some #pro ironwood #pro james ironwood #also it's not like I've done a lot of extensive research so please be kind #if I missed something #IW antis please leave me alone

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whitherliliesbloom · 3 years

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lights, camera, duty commenced!

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #14 - commend ]

[ illya, g’raha & emet ] ★ [ 2,263 words ] ★ [ actors au ] passing mention of some friend’s ocs and illyanaud

commend: praise formally or officially

behind the scenes of the critically acclaimed long running tv show, final fantasy fourteen, g’raha tia is (almost) inconsolable after he reads the final act’s script

The not-so everlasting light shining down feels radiant and warm, but not scorching. In the distance, one can hear the push and pull of the tides from the nearby lake, as well as the rustling of the purple hued leaves that hung and swayed ever so gently upon the trees. A light baby blue canvas with dusty cotton candy clouds crowns lakeland, painting the perfect, serene vista for an uneventful day of shooting.

Though, Illya has to remind herself, as she looks up at the peaceful sky, and sighs in contentment that she was in the completely wrong headspace. Even though the sky above was bright and undoubtedly beautiful on this fine afternoon, she knows that all it takes is for a little bit of compuer-generated television effects magic to turn the tranquil landscape into a scene of naught but utter devastation and war.

Think termination. Think termination. You’re in the middle of a large-scale battle between Elidibus and the people of Norvrandt. The tone’s supposed to be somber and tense. You’re the warrior of darkness. You got this!

“Oh.... How could this be...?”

Her train of thought is rudely interrupted by the sorrowful moping of her co-actor, and she has to resist the urge to chide him for dragging his early morning sulking all the way into the afternoon.

“G’raha, please...” the lalafellin sighs, though cannot help but to let a sliver of sympathy slip into her tone. “The next scene’s starting soon.”

“I know, I know... But...” the man heaves a heavy sigh, hanging his head low and letting his arms drop onto his lap so dramatically she’d almost thought that his flesh really was made of crystal and wasn’t just a product of the hard work of extremely talented make-up artists. “I can’t help it. I can’t believe that my poor crystal exarch is-”

Illya can say she at least empathizes - though perhaps not to the same extent. She’s been casted into roles of characters who would meet an unfortunate demise later, but to be fair, they weren’t often major characters within the narrative of the show or film she was playing a role in.

The crystal exarch on the other hand, has played a key role as one of the many recurring supporting casts in the show. He’d lingered in the background as early as the first season, and was, to G’raha’s jubilation, finally given a main role in the fourth season they were filming.

Only to be killed off in the final act - succumbing to the crystallization of his entire body, from head to toe, in the throne room of the crystal tower after the warrior of darkness’ battle with the ascian Elidibus. His death scene was to be an emotionally poignant one... and Illya herself has spent the last few days getting into the headspace of the protagonist - who would understandably be utterly devastated by the loss of a dear friend.

It didn’t help that the crystal exarch was a considerably popular character within the international community of fans - and his significant increase in screen time was due in part to fan demands... though that perhaps made his long foreshadowed death even more of a cruel irony.

And there was nobody in the world who was a bigger fan of the crystal exarch than the actor who played him himself. It wasn’t narcissistic either, in their line of work, it’s easy to get attached to the roles they play... even more so when they’ve hovered within the headspace of their character for as long as 6 years - she would know, Liliya Liya is as big a part of her as the crystal exarch is for G’raha now.

Thus, though she felt the urgent need to get G’raha back up on his feet in preparation for the remaining scenes on their schedule to film... she could not bring herself to so callously talk down his very real and personal attachment of a character he was meant to portray well anyways.

“Oh come now... you should’ve seen this coming.” with a swagger in his step and lazy grin plastered over his expression, Emet Selch strolls over to the pair.... far too comfortable within his own role that he was speaking with Hades’ signature slur in his speech even while out of character. The man has always noted just how similar he was to the god of the underworld, and Illya wouldn’t be surprised if he’d claimed to not even be acting in his scenes at all.

“I...” G’raha pouts, looking up at Emet as his ears flatten atop his head. “I guess I was in denial of it. I thought they would maybe subvert expectations... but-”

“But that wouldn’t be a very compelling story to tell, now would it?” The older man shrugs, and Illya regrets to think that she’s inclined to agree.

“I guess not..”

The robed miqo’te man sighs, and she notes with an amused raise of an eyebrow as his tail that had once been tucked tightly to his side was now swiveling from side to side and puffed up in annoyance.

“Still! They could at least let him go out with more of a bang! Maybe... after he has a solo action scene... or give him a kiss scene to make things more dramatic!”

“Is defeating the big bad and saving the heroine not dramatic enough for you, already?” Emet’s voice is in part mocking as it is exasperated, his arms thrown up to his shoulders in a shrug. “Also I hope you didn’t mean a kiss scene with Liliya.”

“W-what-?? I-” Illya’s mouth hangs agape.

“No! I wasn’t thinking anyone in particular, honest. Besides, she’s already caught in that love triangle subplot with the twins, isn’t she?”

At the mention of the topic, the lalafellin woman’s smile fades.

“D-don’t remind me of that. I’m really not looking forward to acting those scenes out.”

She’s already read the script for the fourth season in it’s entirety... and though she has incredible respect for the masterful writing and the wonderful character dynamics that has only gotten better with each passing season... she has never been... entirely comfortable with the romantic aspects of the scenes involving the elven twins. Scenes of the pair vying for her attention, scenes where she held hands and even got unsettingly close to kissing them...

Though, she will admit... her own uncertainty over her competence in filming those scenes are a result of her own, very personal emotions... something of which Emet Selch seemed to be more than aware of.

“Is it not because you harbor actual feelings for one of them? Would having scenes of you being close to him not be a blessing for you, then?”

The miffed glare Illya’s shoots up at Emet rivals moments of shadow possession Liliya experiences throughout the show, and he can only shrug with a cocky grin as her star-spangled swirl with indignation. Anger aside, heat is spreading across her cheeks in the form of a burning red hue that reaches the tips of her short, pointed ears.

Please stop.

Her expression spells out. She’s as annoyed as she her frightened about something.

Oh dear.

“Relax. Workplace romance here is nothing new.” His words only serve to worsen the already infuriated gleam in her blazing, shimmering eyes. “Mint certainly isn’t shy when it comes to showing she’s in a relationship with Estinien. Nor your friend Laurelis for that matter. She’s still keeping in touch with Haurchefant, no?”

Illya doesn’t say anything, but her silence and the paling of her complexion speaks louder than any words she can spill from her lips.

It’s precisely because he doesn’t know. So please, please shut your mouth.

He still cannot understand why on earth she would stay so adamant about keeping her feelings a secret anyway. For all he knows, the entire cast of actors... and the whole final fantasy crew for that matter, was fully aware of their pining - and Illya’s feelings towards her close co-worker and friend wasn’t unrequited either.

Just like in the show, the pair are completely oblivious to their attraction to one another... something he’ll just have to fix with his bare hands then...

But the matter is neither here nor there, and there was something of greater urgency to rectify now.

Emet Selch turns his gaze back down to G’raha, who has gone uncharacteristically quiet... and sensing his seriousness, Illya too diverts her attention back to the sulking redhead.

“You know... you’re a very talented actor. It’s so very rare to find someone who can capture the emotions and nuances of a character as well as you do.” Emet is the faster of them to speak, and Illya can barely believe the words she’s hearing leave his lips.

Compliments and praise, genuine ones at that, coming from one of the cast’s eldest, most experienced actor who is not only known to be critical when it comes to the art of acting - but is a certified acting coach himself? The monumental honor is not lost to G’raha, as his ears perk up and he whips his head up with widened ruby eyes to look at Emet.

“Death is difficult to portray - dare I say, almost impossible. After all, how can we, who have never experienced death... truly capture the sorrow and despair in it?”

Emet Selch pauses, drawing in a breath before he lifts his hand up to gesture at the pair before him.

“Which is why this is your biggest opportunity to showcase your talents, to move the audience with not just the story, but your very acting! The only thing we can do, as men and women of this field, is to act as vehicles and carry the emotions of the story into the hearts of the fans.”

The man finally sighs, shoulders falling and arms flopping lazily to his side, the sentimentality of the words he just spoke tasting bitter on his tongue.

“Besides, even in death there is a beauty. The crystal exarch lived his life fulfilled and having realized his wish at the end. I expect you to remember that when you eventually see him off.”

There’s a silence that hangs and festers in the air for a moment, before the fur on G’raha’s tail stands and his chest puffs up in a show of renewed determination.

“Y-you’re right, Emet! The crystal exarch dedicated his life to finding a way to save others... There is no better way to end his legacy than to see the world he’s protected for so long finally saved!”

Standing onto his feet, the miqo’te clenches his hands into fists and nods before casting a glance down at Illya.

“Illya! I will act my heart out to the best I can! I’ll act so hard that I’ll make you cry on set for sure!”

The corners of her lip tugs upwards into a wide smile, glowing as the afternoon sun basks down and reflects upon her snowy white hair and the blossoms of her amethyst eyes. Even with the black of the garments she wore and the eastern patterned ribbon that held the braid around her head in place, she was luminous and blinding in her radiant presence... not unlike the heroine of their story.

“Of course! And I’m sure the rest of the crystal exarch fan club will too when they watch that episode.”

“Illya, G’raha!” A pink haired lalafellin calls out to them from a distance away, her olive green eyes wide and excited as she waves her hands high above her head. A raven haired man stands just behind her, his dark blue eyes narrowed as he reviews the script in his hands intently. “We’re starting soon! Get over here!”

“Coming! Just give us a second!” G’raha waves back with a grin before turning back to look at Emet Selch with an apologetic, yet grateful bow, his relaxed tail swaying gently from side to side behind his back.

“Thank you, Emet. I won’t soon forget your encouragements. I’ll do my best and make sure to not let everyone down.”

“Yes, yes. Spare me the nauseating mush. I was just making sure you didn’t drag your co-actor down with your sulking.”

The elder man now glances at the starry eyed girl with amusement flashing through his expression, and Illya can already feel her earlier lighthearted elation fade as quickly as it came.

“By the way... I’m sure if you asked Yoshida properly.. he’d be willing to consider writing in a kiss scene with Liliya and-”

“If I were the warrior of darkness, I’d take my crescent moon cane and stab you with the end of it......”

------

Meanwhile, a little distance away from the trio, Kaye lets out a low hum as he reads and re-reads the words upon the small stacks of paper he held, expression doubtful and confused.

“You sure this is the script to Endwalker?”

“Yeah, I am! Alphinaud gave this copy and said that he got from miss Ishikawa directly! Apparently he’s playing another major role in the next season, which is why he got the script early as a heads up.”

“But... it says here that the crystal exarch gets reincarnated? Assuming that’s not gonna be changed... that means G’raha’s gonna be...”

Kaye’s head lifts and turns, eyes wide and brows furrowing in bemusement only to see an impish smile glimmer upon Lily’s face.

“Should we tell him?”

“Hm...? Nah... He’s gonna film the exarch’s death scene soon, right? I’m sure he’ll appreciate the little surprise later, anyways.”

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2021 #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #g'raha tia #emet selch #illya skawi #g'raha #kiwisffxivwrite2021 #fanfic #mine #I've only had this au for a day and I've already written a fill for it lmao #*pumps fist*

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sonicfanj · 4 years

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How to word this so it doesn’t sound wrong or contentious...

Well, I guess there is no helping it and I’ll just have to rely on my lack of ability to explain things to hopefully make myself understandable.

To wit, I happen to enjoy the perceived one-note-ness of Sonic and Amy. Now before anyone gets it into their heads that I’m taking digs at the two of them (honestly them along with Metal and Eggman are my favorites in the franchise so bear with me) I would like to highlight that when handled well, one-note-ness in a character is actually a very useful narrative tool.

I would hope if you’ve read this far already you have an idea as to where I’m going with this, but if not here goes anyway. The great use that one note characters provide to a narrative is actually multi-fold and requires understanding an anchoring concept. I won’t bother trying to fully flesh out that idea here, but effectively a note character, frequently accused of also being static and unchanging is actually able to serve as a narrative rock who holds other characters together with their stability and reliability. Both in and out of universe they are a point of stability that the characters come to expect. When overused it can become rather stale to be sure, but when understated enough it just becomes part of the world. It’s expected. When you see that character you know what to expect. Of course then when your expectation is betrayed your emotions are a lot stronger. For example, if a show is churning along at a slice of life pace and when things get serious they off the comic relief first it surprises you because it betrays your expectations. Suddenly the stability is gone and the narrative feels like it is in chaos because of that one simple betrayal of expectations. But it doesn’t even have to be so extreme of a betrayal to work. A subtle betrayal of expectations works just as well.

So lets look at Sonic and Amy and what makes them both one note points of stability. If you really have a firm grasp of the characters it might actually be harder to recognize because all of their nuances really stand out to you and you spot them everywhere. In Sonic and Amy’s case they even both have distinct character vices born from some of those nuances though their primary vices are their cheekiness and bratiness respectively. But when it comes to being one-note, for Sonic it is his chill, laid back, and in control personality while Amy though frequently having her obsession with Sonic mistaken for it (though it can be used as well depending on the narrative) is energetic, bubbly, and always positive (IDW forgot to establish this before breaking her down in the Zombot Arc but we’ll get to that later). No matter what is going on Sonic will appear relaxed and in control and Amy will be full of energy and have faith that everything will turn out okay. You can (or at least used to be able to) always expect this out of the two them. Chill and cheerful. Even their color schemes of blue and pink evoke these expectations form them. So what happens then when you betray these expectations. One word. Tension.

Though it could be overused itself, in both Sonic and Amy’s case when the expectation is betrayed their playfulness disappears and they both become more serious and focused. Depending on the degree of the betrayal of expectations you could even be really taken aback by Sonic’s rarely seen temper and indignation or you could actually see Amy not showing any energy (as a Genki Girl it actually is part of the trope that Amy is built on so it shouldn’t be too surprising but the rarity and timing of it’s use can really leave an impact). In these moments you suddenly realize that things are no longer stable, the expected has become taken for granted and you don’t know what to expect. The Sonic OVA played with this really well as Sonic actually lost to Metal Sonic in their first clash. In fact without help he was on the ropes in their rematch as well which nicely betrays Sonic’s tendency to always win. You expect it, but when Sonic needs bailed out like happens on numerous occasions in the OVA (and in his aforementioned defeat no one was able to bail him out) your expectations are lost and you don’t know how he is going to win. This creates anticipation and as a member of the audience every little thing suddenly becomes hype inducing. For the characters in universe it becomes a sign to step up or that things have become extremely dire. Their desperateness and dread only further fuels the anticipation the audience feels. And all of this comes about from a simple shift in expectations, a powerful narrative tool unique to so called “one-note” characters. And before anyone quips up about underdogs, the underdog role itself is a one-note trope of being expected to lose and either betraying that expectation to the point of cheapening it or getting frequently bailed out.

Taking all of the above into consideration, it is why I have been miffed to an extent with IDW!Sonic. The one thing it failed to do was set the expectations before betraying them with the Zombot Arc. It’s why things like Amy’s exhaustion feels hollow as we never had it established how energetic and positive she was. It also makes the whole scenario feel off key as Sonic has already been established as always winning in the end without any major setbacks to imply he can lose. Even his capture at Eggman’s hands feels meaningless unless you are very familiar with his character and history. The inability to use Infinite and the Phantom Ruby also hurts as being able to highlight that an indirect and world altering threat can defeat Sonic the threat of the Zombots feels alien to the established setting and characters. This can work though if expectations of the characters have already been established. As IDW!Sonic never really did as the aim was just to jump straight into the action the lack of concrete expectations undermines the narrative. However, if Sonic had been played up as “one-note” up to this point even in the little time presented by the narrative there would be enough expectations out of Sonic to be surprised by his reactions and lack of overall composure and chill. Alas, IDW!Sonic has not had that benefit either and as a result feels incomplete as a character in the narrative, or at least that’s how I feel.

And it is those very feelings that allows me to appreciate the one-note-ness of Sonic and Amy. When their one-note presentations becomes a point that I comfortably take for granted even the most subtle of changes in the nuance of their actions carries weight. As I mentioned above with Amy you can use her crush on Sonic to highlight a change in atmosphere by her not reacting to his arrival by being joyous. Sonic Adventure captured this well with her interrupting Sonic and Gamma’s clash. Sonic was taken aback enough to look openly confused implying that he understood the situation needed more thought and allowing the audience to understand the different weight of the situation. This is actually further supported by how Amy acts up to that point from Sonic’s point of view (and even Amy’s to an extent) as he pretty much gushes about Sonic, gets distracted by the idea of going on a date even in the middle of a chase, proudly proclaims Sonic to be her hero, and even rather openly implies that the two of them are a couple despite Sonic’s responses. So when she suddenly gets in his way and is not gushing, is not being energetic, and is not propping Sonic up, it gives huge weight to that moment. But none of this works without relying on the expectations one has of her and Sonic due to their “one-note” presentation.

The betrayal of the one note expectation is captured so well the simply presented one-note character. By having a strong focused aspect of their personality the nuances can become eschewed and even the most subtle of changes can have major impact on the audience or characters in universe. The fact that I like the main focal point’s of Sonic and Amy’s personalities naturally makes it easier for me to appreciate them presented as one-note, but it isn’t something that I alone can appreciate. If you recognize the versatility of the one-note character for playing around with your emotions any one-note can quickly become a favorite source of entertainment and the unexpected. But I’ll give anyone who asks the caveat that yes, it requires solid writing and understanding to pull it off properly. But you know, when it happens it is absolute magic in my humble opinion.

#sonic the hedgehog #amy rose #storytelling tools #character analysis #narrative exploration #my opinion #unpopular opinion #one-note characters

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onceuponaprincessworld · 6 years

Text

CaptainSwan Neighbors Au

Hello CS fandom! I made a new list and it’s a long one because there are so many great stories with that trope. It includes stories where our favorite couple are neighbors. Hope you enjoy!

If you are intrested you can find my other lists here.

Multichapter Complete

With Affection, @phiralovesloki

Emma Swan isn't a middle schooler. So why is she receiving notes from a secret admirer? She's also definitely not a romantic person. So why is she writing back? Modern!AU Captain Swan, with side orders of Snowing and Frankenwolf. Updated with second epilogue.

Knock, Knock, @charmingturkeysandwich

Emma Swan has made the best of her crappy apartment ever since she became best friends with her neighbor, Ruby. But when Ruby moves out and a loud Brit takes her place, the thin walls and lack of space are suddenly not so endearing. After a particularly stressful day, Emma decides to confront the nightmare next door, and entirely against her better judgment, she might just be making a friend.

The Pirate Next Door , @the-captains-ayebrows

A handsome stranger moves into the apartment right next to Emma Swan's. Emma isn't ready for romance, but what harm could come of making friends with the charming self-proclaimed "pirate" whose bedroom shares a wall with hers?

Unbreakable, @xemmaloveskillianx

What if Hook was able to go with Emma and Henry when they left to escape Pan’s curse? With no memory of each other or Storybrooke, Emma and Killian meet in New York as complete strangers, both with broken pasts, and both with clean slates for their future.

Sign of Attraction, @hooklineandswan

Some day she was going to find a way to kill him without leaving a trace. Hopefully it would happen before he drove her insane.

In the Name of the Brother, @tnlph

Killian Jones not only finds out about his father's death, but about the brother he never knew he had. Rather than let another Jones boy grow up without a father, Killian takes the boy into his life. He'll do all he can to be the man for his younger brother that his older brother had been for him.

Lend me some sugar, I am your neighbor, @kittennharington

Killian and Emma knew each other in middle school before she was taken away to a new foster home. They meet each other again years later as neighbors in an apartment complex. Contains smut.

Can You Feel it Right Now?, @cutieodonoghue

When Emma Swan agrees to let her annoying neighbor Killian Jones join her to go to the grocery store, the last thing she could have ever anticipated is becoming his wife over the course of a conversation with some people from his past.

Some Sort of Neighborly, @shipping-goggles

They're not neighbors, not exactly, and they're not friends either. It's pretty hard to find reasons to bump into the woman who lives next door to your best friend, especially after your only interaction with her has been waking up on her couch one Saturday morning. Sequel to Rude Awakening.

Look What the Cat Dragged In, @athenascarlet

There are only a couple things Killian Jones knows about his neighbor, Emma Swan. She's a bail bonds person and she's attractive. Also, she apparently has a cat. And he apparently is now her cat sitter.

The Reason, @xemmaloveskillianx

he three of them share a laugh before they all look to Emma. She has yet to comment on the new addition because she isn’t sure what to say. She usually doesn’t like change, they have a good thing going there, just the four of them. Plus, they all know him and she doesn’t, but she trusts their judgement, and she’s sure any brother of Liam can’t be all that bad.

So, with a shrug and a smile she says, “Welcome to Storybrooke, Killian Jones.”

Make Some Noise, @fyeahcaptn

Emma doesn't hate her neighbour per say, she barely knows him. Killian Jones an irritating, insufferable ass who's far too cocky and confident for his own good but seriously, would it hurt him to keep the shower to a normal time like an actual human being? Before she kills him. Modern!AU.

Pay It Forward, @acrobat-elle

Breaking your ankle is one thing. Breaking your ankle three days after you moved into a fifth-floor walkup is something else entirely.

Wip

A Helping Hand, @hookedonapirate

My girlfriend just dumped me and I've gotten piss drunk and somehow managed to get into your apartment instead of my own. I'm trying to masturbate my feelings away and boy were you surprised.

Breaking the Hinges, @piratesails

When Killian Jones decides to spend his night off relaxing in his apartment, the last thing he expects is a beautiful blonde woman bursting through his front door.

Neighborly Affection, @hookslovelyswan

Emma Swan's new neighbor, Killian Jones, is the talk of the neighborhood, and living next door to him is almost more than she can stand, especially since the man doesn't seem to own a shirt! But the tug she feels toward him is inexorable, and the genuine feelings that develop between them...quite unexpected.

One-shot

Transatlanticism, @mahstatins

Emma Swan went to Britain looking for family. It should have been a Hallmark movie, a Christmas miracle waiting to happen. Instead she’s stuck in a grimy London ‘flat’, with the worst next door neighbor in the world.

Well, maybe not the worst.

What a Year (for a New Year), @high-seas-swan

Killian Jones, Boston Bruins right winger, needs a break from the questions and concerns over his career-threatening injury. He thought Storybrooke would be the perfect place to escape to. What he didn't expect was Emma Swan, her kid and a holiday season he never knew he needed.

Subtle and Nuanced, @phiralovesloki

Killian Jones has an unusual relationship with a neighbor in which they exchange notes via cat. He’s also slowly falling for his flower shop’s newest customer. Surely these two things are unrelated.

Tim Finnegan's Wake, @icecubelotr44

"You live in the apartment next to mine and you're always blasting music while I'm trying to sleep but you've been silent for the last two days, are you all right?"

Emma Swan never minded the music. Not until she broke her ankle and her shift moved to days. Now she just wants to sleep. But Killian Jones doesn't seem to notice. So when the condo next door goes silent, she's understandably concerned. When she finds Killian after he got the phone call about his brother he never expected, they'll have to figure out if everything is as it seems.

Smoke and Mirrors, @lifeinahole27

I was burning scented candles and fell asleep. You’re my neighbour who bashed the door down when my smoke alarm went off.

The Perils of Firemen and the Food Network, @shireness-says

Emma Swan is not a cook. But maybe, with the help of her upstairs neighbor, she could be - if her feelings don't get in the way.

Keep On Fallin' , @resident-of-storybrooke

Emma Swan may be a successful bail bondsperson, but when it comes to her love life not so much. After several failed blind dates Emma is ready to give up, but Mary Margaret convinces her to give it one more shot. Is Mr. One Shot going to be the one? Or is she willing to risk taking a chance with her blue eyed gorgeous neighbor?

For the Story, nothandlingit

If there's one thing Killian Jones is ruthlessly stubborn on, it's not letting Emma Swan know how many coffee/hot chocolate/bear claw combinations he's had to gift on to unsuspecting strangers when she doesn't show up at the little bakery near their apartment building. Turns out accidentally running into each other costs some money. A CS AU week submission - beloved tropes.

The Worst/Best Christmas Ever, @captainhookcaptainfreedom

When their flight home is cancelled, Emma is convinced that she and Henry are going to have the worst Christmas ever. However, their next door neighbor, Killian Jones, has different ideas.

That Guy Next Door, @a-fictional-life

M-rated AU one shot just cos it’s Saturday…

You Make Me Better, @ilovemesomekillianjones

CS Neighbors AU where Emma is a nurse and Killian is her definitely-faking-it hypochondriac neighbor who uses illnesses and injuries as an excuse to talk to her.

walking the high line, @losttalongthewayy

Captain Swan NYC neighbors AU – It’s Emma Swan’s 28th birthday and she finds herself stuck helping her upstairs neighbor —the very one she’s sure she hates.

seven for all mankind, @arexnna

“we’re neighbours and we do everything together and spend all our time together and that’s normal, but someone pointed out how we’re essentially dating, but we aren’t, are we?”

Postcards and Shower Songs, @nightships

Emma often finds herself wondering whether it's possible to hate a stranger. Despite never having met or seen him before in her life, she knows exactly two things about Mr. K. Jones — he gets a ton of mail from all over the world and he plays extremely loud music when he wakes up in the morning.

Too Hot (Hot Damn), @this-too-too-sullied-flesh

Emma just doesn’t know what’s hotter--the weather and the fact that the air conditioning is out in her building, or her neighbor.

The Savior's Spatula, @imhookedonaswan

Killian Jones hears his neighbor Emma screaming from her apartment, being the gentleman he is he grabs the first thing he can find to go try to save her.

how not to meet your neighbor…, @startswithhope

Here’s a bit of modern AU nonsense, starring Killian and Emma…

The Sabbatical (or how Emma Swan brought Valentine’s Day back), @lenfaz

Killian Jones abhors his neighbors. He really does.

Two-Shots

The Favor, @madjm

AU. Emma Swan doesn't do relationships, but her annoyingly attractive neighbor, Killian Jones, might change her views. Captain Swan. Previously on ffnet.

The Not So Neighborly Noise, @optomisticgirl

After an exhausting day, one which started with her annoying neighbor waking her up with his singing, all Emma Swan wanted to do was sleep. Little did she know when she crawled into bed that night that everything she thought she knew was going to shift dramatically. Can a closed off woman give a man a chance to prove her wrong?

Ten Minutes, @hookedonapirate

“The game's simple, really. In fact you, my love, don’t have to do a thing,” he ends with a click of his tongue, his silky accent sending shivers down her spine.

“Don’t call me that,” Emma warns him, but honestly her heart is thumping and her interest is highly piqued, “but please do go on.”

“It’s called Ten Minutes. You give me ten minutes to do anything I want to you—touching, teasing, kissing, biting, whatever I want. You so much as moan or make any sound of pleasure, you lose.”

Emma bites her lip at the idea of him doing all those things to her and feels heat creeping into her cheeks. “And if I win? What do I get out of this?”

“If you win, I will never bother you again.”

A grin spreads across her lips. “Okay, you totally made this game up, but sure, I’ll play along,” she decides confidently. She has no doubt she’ll win, so why not? Emma sits up and places the bottle on the floor, glancing over at him again. “You’re on, Jones.”

We Can Feel So Far (From So Close), @once-uponacaptain

Waiting until your best friend left for a cross country tour was a fine time to realize you're in love with him. Captain Swan.

Stray Hearts, @piratesails

He’s insufferable, and nothing, not even the fact that he’s laughing with childlike glee as he cuddles a litter of stray kittens, will change Emma’s mind about Killian Jones. Or, that’s what she thought, anyway.

Three-Shots

Please, Please, Say You Feel it Too, @cutieodonoghue

modern au; Emma pawns her son off to her neighbor Killian. Romance ensues. (Daddy!Killian feels abound!)

Spider Slayer, @startswithhope

"This is totally awkward considering before this the only interactions we've ever had have been casual nods to each other in the hallway but there's a huge fucking spider in my bath tub and you seem like the friendly neighbor type please help me."

#cs ff #cs rec fic #cs rec ff #cs recs #cs fanfiction #cs fics #cs rec list #my rec list #fic rec #rec list #cs recs ff #cs ff rec #captain swan

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asthora · 6 years

Text

Remember

Asra talks about trying to help the apprentice remember their past but what if the apprentice remembers on their own? An AU of sorts featuring my apprentice, Aerwyna.

Aerwyna wakes up to an empty shop and a note on the counter.

I’ll be back soon. Maybe a few days, maybe more. Stay safe and be well.

Asra

He does this a lot, he disappears. There’s always a hollow feeling in her chest when he leaves, a sense of utter loneliness even though right outside the window is a bustling city filled with thousands of people. Maybe it would be better if he told her something, but he refuses. I go somewhere you cannot follow, he says. She asks him where that is, why can’t she follow, why is he there, but each time he only shakes his head and looks at her with sad eyes.

I can’t tell you. Not yet.

She doesn’t know what he means but she knows pressing him will only get more vague answers and more questions that will leave her lying awake at night. This time though, he didn’t even tell her. Just a note, not even a goodbye. It stings. She’s his apprentice, she’s been his apprentice for as long as she can remember, why can he not trust her? He tells her she is gifted and progressing at an uncanny rate and yet, he refuses to confide in her.

Aerwyna crumples the note and throws it in the wastebasket. Just because Asra is not here doesn’t mean the shop is closed. She flips the sign on the door and heads to the back room to crush herbs and mix powders. They sell potions and mixtures and salves from the herbs and fungi they find in the forest. Asra’s recipes are the best in the city, but they aren’t the biggest reason people come to the shop. The people in Vesuvia know Asra as a reader, a fortune teller. It’s more nuanced than that, he tells her often, I don’t see the future, I see possibilities in the cards.

But Asra isn’t here today, and the second sign on the door is flipped to No Readings, which means the shop will be empty except for the occasional customer looking for a salve to soothe cuts or a potion for coughs. So she spends her day leaning against the counter with Fire Magic: The Art of Offense & Defense in one hand and the other pinching herbs into a boiling pot of water.

One day passes, then another and another. Aerwyna’s taken to watching the door for a familiar head of white hair but each night she goes to sleep in an empty shop. A week passes. This is the longest Asra has ever gone without sending word that he would either be returning soon or he would be traveling for a few more days. Sometimes he sends Faust but his familiar is nowhere in sight. She’s getting nervous.

On the tenth day, she can’t stand it anymore. Aerwyna flips the sign on the door to Closed and heads to the back room to the only bookshelf in the shop. Asra doesn’t let her touch these, not without his permission. She doesn’t understand why, he says that the things in the books are dangerous but, she’s desperate. What if he’s hurt? What if he needs help? One of these books must tell her how to contact him, some spell or magic that can connect her to her master so the ache in her chest will stop keeping her up at night. Aerwyna takes down several from the shelf and carries them to a circle of pillows in the corner of the room. She sits down and picks up the first volume, a large leather-bound book called Mirror Magicks, and opens it to the first page.

Aerwyna is blasted with a gust of wind so strong that she can’t breathe. She’s choking. Her vision is a splattering of colors that are slowly coming into a murky focus. She’s in a large room, a library, a place she has never seen, yet it feels strangely familiar. Midday light shines through a large stained glass window. She recognizes the pattern of the glass. It’s very colorful and in the middle is a heart, yet no matter how hard she thinks, she cannot figure out where she has seen it before. But the sense of familiarity is not as shocking as the rest of the vision. Aerwyna sees herself in the corner of the room, sitting on a pile of pillows, much like she sits in the shop. She looks like herself but...different. Someone comes into the room and the other Aerwyna looks up and smiles. Aerwyna turns and watches as Asra walks through the door. A tiny Faust is wrapped around his wrist and she slithers up his arm and drapes herself around his neck as Asra crouches down. He leans in and kisses her.

Oh.

Just like that the vision is gone and she’s choking again. Like before the sensation stops as soon as the multitude of colors snap into focus. There’s a man this time, someone she recognizes. She knows him as Doctor Jules but her mind whispers a different name. Illya. Like before Aerwyna is an outsider in the vision, and she watches as Illya leans in and presses his forehead against hers. There Aerwyna reaches up and locks her fingers in his auburn hair. She’s weeping. Why is she crying? How does she know Doctor Jules? The woman in front of her is herself and yet it’s not.

She doesn’t get to ask more questions before she’s whisked away again. It takes longer this time for the vision to settle. By the time shapes form there are black spots in her vision and she is gasping for breath. She’s in a dark bedroom. It is a fine room decorated in crimson and gold. In a large four poster bed situated against the wall is a man Aerwyna has only heard stories about and seen in paintings yet, she knows him.

Lucio sits propped up against a mountain of pillows. The whites of his eyes are ruby red and his face is gaunt. The shadows under his eyes tell a story of many sleepless nights. Like before, there is another Aerwyna, this one pouring a dark liquid into a chalice. The count glares at her and when she offers him the cup he knocks it away with his golden arm, sending the chalice across the room, the liquid spilling across the stones. He’s screaming but she can’t hear him. The sound is muffled at first but growing more clear. She walks towards the bed. Lucio and the other Aerwyna do not notice her presence.

“I’ll kill him,” Lucio snarls. His voice is hoarse from sickness but it still holds its edge.

“You wouldn’t,” She says. “You wouldn’t dare kill him. He’s trying to save you.”

Lucio sneers. “Save me? Save me!? I’ll kill you all! I’m going to die because of you incompetent bastards. If you are the best this wretched city has to offer than perhaps I am better off dead!”

“Please, Lucio,” she whispers “I am doing everything. Don’t hurt him.”

He laughs. “Asra’s days are limited. So are Devorak’s and so are yours.”

Aerwyna’s vision goes dark. The count’s bedchambers disappear. She can’t breathe. The colors come back but they can’t seem to focus for long. She sees flashes of Asra, of Ilya, of the countess Nadia. She sees the garden where she and Asra confessed their love, the bar where she found Ilya so drunk he could not stand, and the moment when Lucio arrived in this very shop, her shop, to invite her to the palace. These are not visions, they are memories.

Aerwyna can’t breathe. She doesn’t understand. Who is she? Who is Asra? Where are Ilya and Nadia? And the fire...she sees the fire. Lucio is burning. His sickroom is ablaze and the smell of burning flesh is so strong that in the real world she vomits. She remembers it all. Aerwyna remembers Asra as a lover, Nadia as a friend, and Ilya as something more than a companion. She remembers nights in the palace, pouring over books, the books in this very room, the books that she’s plucked from the shelves. They were supposed to find a cure for the plague.

She remembers Asra’s body pressed against her own, skin against skin, his lips trailing down her neck, placing gentle kisses on her collarbone. Then there is Ilya and his burning eyes. I love you, he says, but she doesn’t know if she loves him back. Nadia pours her a glass of wine and Lucio burns her with his fever hot skin.

Years of missing time crash into Aerwyna like a wave. There are memories from before Vesuvia, from a childhood she has forgotten, in a town far away from this city. It’s too much. She feels the memories crushing her. She is like an ant under a boot. Magic took away these memories and now it is giving them back but it’s too fast, too much. But then, there’s something cold touching her, something foreign.

“Aerwyna!” Someone shouts. It’s from the real world, not the world of memories. “Aerwyna!”

She knows that voice. Asra.

It’s dark for a long time before Aerwyna opens her eyes.

She is in her room and it’s warm. There’s a fire in the fireplace and the window is open just enough so she can hear the tinkling of wind chimes. Her body hurts, it aches as if she has been running for days without stopping. It takes an effort to keep her eyes open. Her head is pounding and she can hear her heartbeat in her ears.

There’s a sound like someone shifting in a chair. It’s too loud and she winces. She turns her head and the world spins and she feels like she might be sick.

“Aerwyna?”

She knows that voice.

“Asra?” Aerwyna asks.

The room rights itself and Asra, who is sitting in the corner with Faust draped across his neck, stands. He reaches her bed in three strides and drops to his knees. His familiar slithers onto the bed, resting on her stomach, a comfortable and welcome weight.

“Where am I? What happened? You’ve been gone for days.”

He looks sad and he threads his fingers through her own. “I am so sorry I left you, Aerwyna. I should not have been gone so long. If I had come back a moment later...” he stops and runs a hand down his face. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand.” She says.

“I came into the shop to found you passed out behind the counter. You were terribly feverish. You’re sick but I’m here now. You’re okay.”

Aerwyna looks away. She doesn’t remember passing out. She doesn’t even remember being behind the counter or feeling ill. She tries to recall what Asra is talking about but the last thing she remembers is flipping the shop sign to closed. After that, nothing. Whitespace. Static.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Three days,” Asra says. “You frightened me, Aerwyna. I was afraid I was too late.”

“I don’t remember feeling ill, Asra. I don’t remember passing out or anything.”

“It’s the fever,” he says quickly. “You were burning up, dangerously so. I had to call a doctor.”

She licks her lips and looks away. Faust has her head resting on her chest and she looks at her with her little red eyes and flicks her tongue. Something feels off, but Asra wouldn’t lie to her, he has no reason to anyway. She must have been ill for awhile and not even realized it.

“I’m glad you’re home,” Aerwyna says, turning back to her master. “I missed you.”

“And I missed you.” He smiles. Asra rests the back of his hand on her forehead and she closes her eyes. His hands are cool. It feels nice.

“You’ve still got a fever,” he says. “Do you have a headache as well?”

She nods but doesn’t open her eyes. His hand is suddenly gone and she groans in protest and hears a quiet laugh and the sound of tinkling bottles and liquids being poured. She’s been asleep for days yet she feels exhausted. Her thoughts feel thick like she can’t exactly think straight, and when she tries to remember the moments before she collapsed, a stabbing pain shoots through her head.

“Here,” Asra says. “Drink this.”

Aerwyna opens her eyes. Asra is offering her a glass of some steaming tea. It smells terrible but Asra’s teas always work. He helps her sit up and she drinks it, only stopping when the cup is empty. She falls back into the pillows, eyelids drooping.

“Rest, Aerwyna. You’ll feel better in the morning.” Asra smiles and brushes his knuckles across her cheek. His touch is nice and she closes her eyes. The room smells like Asra and she falls asleep, content for the first time in days.

Asra picks up Aerwyna’s copy of Mirror Magicks and runs his hand over the leather bound cover. He hates the thought of putting these books behind locked doors, but what other choice does he have? He returned three days ago to find her sprawled on the floor in the back room, this very book open to the first page. She was covered in sick and white as snow. He thought she was dead. But her chest rose and fell in a quick flurry, like the beating wings of a hummingbird and relief flooded him, only to be replaced by guilt.

He performed the magic to make her forget. Asra wiped her mind, replaced with nothingness so when she awoke, she’d chalk it all up to a fever. He cleaned her up and put her in bed like he’d done a hundred times before in the last three years. He feels so guilty. When she finally remembers properly will she thank him or shun him?

Asra places the books back on the shelves and mouths a spell. Blue light flashes around the bookshelf and then it’s gone. There, she won’t be able to touch the books anymore. He hadn’t realized the powerful connection between her and these old volumes. Foolish, most of them were from the palace. That was why he told her not to touch them but still, he hadn’t thought it would bring back so many memories.

Faust glides across the floor and raises her head, looking at him and flicking her tongue.

“She’s safe,” his familiar says. She bumps her head against his leg in a reassuring gesture. He turns around and walks out of the room and up the stairs to where Aerwyna sleeps, her face unusually pale and her cheeks bright with fever. At least he knows his magic worked, she didn’t remember the books or the memories. He sits on the edge of the bed and reaches for her hand. It’s warm. He squeezes her fingers and he wonders how many more lies he’ll have to tell the woman he loves.

#the arcana #the arcana game #asra #fan apprentice #julian devorak #countess nadia #count lucio #faust #asra x apprentice #aerwyna #my ocs

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chocosvt · 7 years

Text

⚬ pairing: minghao x fem!reader | punk!au. ⚬ word count: 1.2K. ⚬ warnings: none! ⚬ genre: quite suggestive.

— ✧✎ synopsis: minghao aims to stop outside your window at midnight, in the silence where your parents won’t judge him for all the piercings and tattoos and his other troublesome attributes. because minghao is certainly not troublesome, unless he wants to leave you a few marks to remember him by.

The tiny hand on your clock had just swept past midnight when your phone buzzed, the screen protruding a shallow gleam to light the otherwise darkened room. You’d been lacerating your bottom lip ever since getting home, the flesh beginning to puff and glisten in a bold shade of ruby. Just the simple vibration had you jumping across the floorboards, your elbow banging into the wall at the same nuance as two pots being smashed together, irritably loud; encompassing you in anxiety whilst you prayed your parents remained asleep.

Though once you’d picked up your phone and gleaned across the text, the ache seemed to fizzle away.

Minghao [12:02am]: told you I’d come after midnight.

You parted your frill curtains masking out the silver moonlight, a smile that couldn’t be repressed no matter how hard you strained exigent on your lips. Minghao was returning the same little grin, his phone washing pure white under his jaw as he waved at you through the window pane. He came in his usual comfort attire, his cinnamon strands fluffed adorningly upon his forehead, probably still damp from the shower he’d taken. You could just decipher his dangly piercings glinting amongst the pale ivory strokes from the sky, the thrill rekindled of sneaking over your secret companion.

Opening your text messages, you made sure to reply to his previous alert, the movements that followed being very ginger and cautious whilst you opened the window.

Y/N [12:03am]: you’re just lucky I didn’t fall asleep.

Minghao, the lithe, acrobatic criminal he was, had slipped into your bedroom with ease, the frivolous curl decorating those mint lips engendering your heart to flutter. You didn’t usher a single word as your socks glided across the floorboards, fingers resting in tangible disbelief on his shoulders before you lay a soft kiss on the side of his jaw. His hand found your lower back, nestling you close to him, allowing you to take a breath of his fresh aroma that dotted along light citrus and cotton. You’d been so desperate for this moment, especially when you were accustomed to tiptoeing around your parents, placing an invisibility cloak over your relationship.

It’s not that they didn’t like him. What they didn’t like was the detentions he racked up, the tattoos that rippled along his shoulder blades. They didn’t like his piercings or the fact he was always hanging around Joshua’s garage blasting drum solos, performing kick flips off this makeshift ramp that had almost sent his skateboard toward a car windshield. Come to think of it, your parents didn’t like Joshua much either.

“They’re punks, [Y/N]. An intelligent, pretty thing like you shouldn’t have to be around those troublemakers.” Your mother advised you one morning at the breakfast table, causing you to just about choke on the toast you were swallowing. Maybe to her they appeared foolish and ludic, living in the moment with not a single aspiration, but you knew Minghao down to the time he cried over Bridge to Terabithia, and you knew he was damn well he was one of the smartest kids your school had ever seen. Of course, that’s not what you told your mother. You nodded in translucent gratitude and gnawed on another piece of toast, inwardly splurging over how wrong she was.

“Hey!” you whispered harshly when Minghao’s fingers tightened on your waist, walking you backward toward your mattress and innocuously pushing you upon its bouncy surface. “We have to be quiet, okay?”

Minghao’s eyes glimmered akin to the starlight that trickled from the night sky, his palm gliding in dulcet fashion up your leg, settling warmly on the back of your thigh to better tug you underneath him. Your fingers were twitching beside your head, breath beginning to falter with the limerence that cradled his tone.

“C’mon, I missed you. There aren’t a lot of chances to see you when I’m in detention.” Infinitesimal valleys bloomed like wildflowers up your flesh, covering your legs and raising the thin little hairs on your arms. His words were like milk and honey, rustling by your ears, though you gulped away your concupiscent thoughts and set a hand on his cheek, thumb sweeping upon the tan flesh. Stray cinnamon threads lightly tickled at your forehead as your lips found that sweet spot on his jaw.

“That’s more of a you problem now isn’t it?” You murmured, hands travelling to his waist and giving it a slight squeeze. Minghao supported himself above you with his arms on either side of your head, the manner in which his nose crinkled rather adorable and quite the contradiction compared to his snide response.

“I guess it’ll be kind of a you problem when you can’t keep quiet, huh?” Your brows immediately pinched together.

“What’s that supposed to mea-,”

Well, you definitely came face to face with the meaning when Minghao’s head dipped to the juncture between your neck and shoulder, one of his arms slipping back to its original grip on your thigh, hoisting it upward for his fingers to grasp the delicate flesh. His tongue made quick work of slipping past his lips to dampen the skin, the natural yet slightly sweet taste he collected a complete intoxication, thrashing him back to his impatience of waiting to come see you. Your jaw fell lax, a sharp steal of air gushing into your lungs at the manner in which Minghao’s lips caressed up your neck, switching between tentative pecks that were simply branded from his adoration for you and eager suckling that had your fingers carve into the muscle under his hoodie.

“T-This isn’t fair,” you warbled, all the while titling your head back, allowing the starved boy more access to light your cheeks in thick flame, “I didn’t even get- a warning.”

As though an ice cube had been swiped down your spine, you felt your whole body begin to bristle at his teeth pressing slowly yet softly into the lilac bruise he’d created. Your fingernails carved hedonistically along his sides, embellishing the warm flesh with brightened threads.

“Shh,” Minghao planted wet kisses along your collarbone, his hair still tickling your jaw like a wispy feather, “Can’t let your parents know I’m marking up their daughter.” And as though you were transported through a loophole, straight back to nibbling your lower lip whilst you paced about your bedroom, your teeth were greeting the plump flesh in another attempt at silence. Faint flecks of white sponged across your vision as you supressed your mewling. Minghao let go of your thigh to tilt your chin to the side, sucking another lewd bruise to increase the collection.

“How-” you began in a yelp, though Minghao hushed you with a kiss. “Quiet.” He reminded.

“How do you expect me to cover all these tomorrow morning? I’m not a damn makeup magician.” Your taut tone betrayed the heat festering through your veins like an alcohol, the crisp little glare reflecting in his cedar eyes pummeling your heart like a hand kneading dough. His finger tipped your chin upward, lips pressing in an open mouthed kiss over a bruise he’d gently nibbled.

“Think of this as a favour. You’ll really get the hang of concealing a hickey.” You felt him smirk against your pulse, teeth scraping along your skin carnally. “I may even let you practice on me.”

✎ did u see how i slipped punk!joshua in from his bad boy neighbour au heh. WHOLESOME STUFF.

#seventeen scenarios #minghao scenarios #seventeen #minghao #svtnetwork #svt fanfic #the8 scenarios #HIS TATTOO MAY OR MAY NOT BE REAL JUS PUTTIN THT OUT THERE LADIES AND GENTS #i feel like he would actually do it #legends only #ALSO THIS IS QUEUED BC I HAVE EXAMS AND THIS WEAK BITCH NEEDS SLEEP

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jen-iii · 7 years

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Being the biggest garnet fan I've ever met here... Are you satisfied about how her character has been shown in recent seasons? (Don't get me wrong, I love ruby and sapphire and I always will but I feel the personality of garnet is disappearing and it is nothing compared to what she was in the first season And now she only dedicates talk about "fusion this" "fusion that" Is something sad for me because she was my favorite characters and was one of the reasons I endure hiatus after hiatus :(

This got long as shit because I ADORE Garnet of course and have actually a lot to talk about in regards to this!

In my own personal opinion, I believe her first season self was a bit... one dimensional and here’s why

In season one, Garnet was shown as the stoic, fearless leader of the crystal gems. She was quiet and blunt and strong. She never really...connected with the others too much like, we KNEW that Pearl and Amethyst had personality differences and such and that Ame and Steven were fun buddies and that Pearl was like a doting mother but with Garnet there was always this sense of disconnect to me. Like it got to the point where I always expected that she would like, barely say anything cept a witty one liner at times and be hella protective. That’s it. one certain episodes we go little HINTS to a much bigger personality like with future vision and arcade mania and etc etc, but they were always very small and we didnt have any real info to connect the bits till like jailbreak

But then comes Jailbreak and we get ALL this information on who Garnet IS and what she represents and it really makes you think. Like, we KNEW that Garnet became the defacto leader after Rose’s death and that has a whole slew of emotions and character meta right there but we didnt KNOW that she was a fusion. That she was made up of literal LOVE. That she had to go through so. MUCH because she was a ‘perma-fusion’ made up of two DIFFERENT gems. That she had to find her own identity from it. and we then get to see Garnet sort of blossom forth. shes far more open with the others, more open with Steven and her flaws and more open to sharing about herself and you see that shes been HOLDING BACK all of this. The character we THOUGHT Garnet was wasnt complete. yeah sure, shes still the fearless leader of the crystal gems, calm cool and collected. But she’s also made of LOVE, she is so gentle and supportive of all things about love and fusion because its so, SO important to her.

(As for Ruby and Sapphire showing up more and more, I think it’s to flesh them out a bit more like. we got Garnet FARRR more then them and they are (literal) key components to Garnet herself. it gives us a sense of who THEY are and how they act around eachother and who their characters are outside of being Garnet but ALSO showing us little nuances into Garnet’s own personality. We think were seeing them a lot but in reality its just more OFTEN, not a lot. trust me. I am DYING for more episodes ghfnvfjm)

Fusion is a major, MAJOR part of Garnet’s character and identity. and Garnet is a HUGE symbol for healthy gay relationships. and it’s been in my own personal experience that when I was hiding that I was gay, I never gave forth my ‘real’ personality. it was like I was two similar but different people whenever i was alone by myself and out and about with people. but, when I got the chance to come out, and the knowledge that I had support and people who cared, by god did I change I felt so much more comfortable with myself and who I was and jesus did I talk about being gay a lot. it was something I had to hold back and now that I can let it out, I tended to talk about it A LOT.

so in this sense, I kinda always associated Garnet talking more and more about fusions and the like as to FINALLY being able to and its just spilling out because she so happy to talk and educate others on the subject.

and, from an aspiring animators standpoint, I can TOTALLY see why there showing more things about fusion and having Garnet, the resident fusion who knows about HEALTHY fusing, talk about it rather then someone else. Fusion is a MAJOR part of the show. Fusion represent the RELATIONSHIPS between the two components fusing whether it be platonic, romantic, etc etc. The core of steven universe is LOVE. the LOVE between family and friends and lovers and in this story, LOVE can have a PHYSICAL FORM. and nothing can beat love. as such, theyre going to try and explain it and develop the concept a LOT. and they want to make sure we know what’s the BEST way to think about fusion. and who better then to educate us then a fusion made out of LOVE?

Basically, I see Garnet as having HEAVY and MAJOR character development. Especially in regards of how she interacts with the others now that a huge and major secret of her has been revealed. and that she seems a bit pushed to the side because she’s already had her HUGE character development arc and they’re moving on to other characters rn in tandem so it SEEMS like were seeing her less but thats because were seeing one character who wasnt around as much suddenly be a bit more spotlight centered. And she’s honestly the best person to talk about fusions (by far the most stable fusion weve seen and possibly like, EVER)especially since I think that were gonna see fusions take a larger role in SU. Think of her talking more about fusions like Steven using his dream walking ability more and more in the show. it’s leading up to SOMETHING.

#Anonymous #Jeni Rambles

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