#spread black men and boy joy

[hawkinsbnbg]

Steve got Good boy inscribed on his butt, just on the right cheek.

It would be funny if it was a tattoo Steve had gotten one time when he was too drunk and on a dare.

Except it wasn't a tattoo. At all.

Even though it kind of looked like one.

It was the first words his soulmate would say to him.

When Steve first got it, his friends had given him odd looks in the locker room.

Tommy would use many excuses to touch and even Billy wouldn't shut up about it.

As for Carol, she just cackled her head off when he showed it to her.

Still, whenever Steve was alone, he would look at the words in the mirror and feel kinda giddy about the whole thing.

Who would call someone they had just met "good boy"? What if they were far older than him?

And what would his words be for them? "Yes sir"? "Hello sir"?

Soon, he found his answer when he learned about the BDSM world, which Robin had jokingly mentioned one time.

And Steve sort of fell down the rabbit hole since then.

He met many men and women who would call him "good boy", and occasionally "good girl".

But none of them felt right.

Until he heard about Kas.

Who was known to be an experienced dom and knew how to treat his subs right.

Most of the subs in Steve's circle put the man on a pedestal. They practically worshipped the ground he walked on.

And Steve had become curious enough to seek him out.

A quick text over the phone and Steve already had a date with Kas at a hotel on Friday night.

Once the day arrived, he dolled himself up a little, knowing many doms liked how rosy cheeks and pouty lips he was.

He even wore lipgloss and mascara just for good luck.

His outfit was simple enough to take off, but cute nonetheless.

A yellow and pink graffitied black sweater that was a little baggy on him, a tiny pearl choker, silver bracelets, a pair of jeans shorts, and baby pink sneakers.

He looked like a twink, all things considered.

It wasn't his first time dressing like this and it wouldn't be the last time, either.

Steve just..

Well, he just wanted to make sure if he stumbled on his soulmate who happened to be a dom, he wouldn't disappoint them too badly.

It had been years since his word first appeared. So he had the right to be a little bit desperate.

Steve didn't know why, but by the time he got to the hotel, he was a puddle of nerves.

He figured that maybe it was the "Kas' effect" that many people had told him about.

When the door opened to let Kas into the room, Steve just knew this man was going to rock his world.

Kas was attractive and tall. Easily having a couple of inches on him.

With long curly hair, big brown eyes, and plump lips, the man looked surprisingly intimidating.

He wore a burgundy shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, showing his tattoos and chunky silver rings.

His pants and heavy boots were made of leather, which Steve suddenly wanted to rub himself on.

He seemed to be a lanky type, but Steve knew better than to assume anything.

As Kas languidly made his way to the bed, Steve unconsciously slid down to the floor and got on his knees, waiting for his order.

Yeah, he was a good boy like that.

There was a reason why many doms had asked to keep him despite knowing he only let his soulmate own him.

Kas wasn't any different.

The man smiled at him, dimpled and warm, making Steve woozy a bit at being praised even wordlessly.

Once Kas sat down, he spread his thighs slightly and patted a hand on his lap.

Understanding the silent command immediately, Steve climbed up on it without being told twice.

He blushed and giggled a bit when strong arms wrapped around his waist securely.

"Good boy," said Kas huskily, smelling of cigarettes and something spicy. "What do you want for your reward, sweetheart?"

Steve felt his breath hitched at that. He knew the chance wasn't high but–

"Can I kiss you, sir?" He asked coyly, playing his role to perfection.

This time, it was Kas who took a sharp intake.

Surprise, disbelief, uncertainty, hope, and finally, joy settled on the man's handsome features.

Kas smiled at him again, more genuine and hopeful.

"Baby boy, do you know that I have those words written on my left ribs my entire life?"

"Show me," Steve demanded, unable to keep up the act when he was so close to finding his soulmate.

Without protest, Kas unbuttoned his shirt and there it was, scribbled on the man's pale skin was Can I kiss you, sir? in his handwriting.

Smiling fondly, Steve traced his fingers on those words.

They sounded so sweet. And yet concerning if being put into the wrong context.

What a pair they made.

"Can you show me yours, sweetheart?" Kas asked tentatively, looking unsure despite having been so confident just a few minutes ago.

"Yeah, sure, of course," Steve scrambled up from the man's lap and blushed as he turned around to unzip and pull down his shorts.

Hearing Kas curse quietly behind him was, perhaps, the most flattering moment in his life.

He could see what kind of an image he made with his baggy sweater bunching up around his waist, white thong, and Good boy being inked on his tanned buttcheek.

Some would call it hot, sexy, or erotic.

But Steve knew how obscene he looked with those words on him.

Especially when he was face down and ass up, waiting to be fucked into oblivion.

Not that he had let anyone fuck him, yet. But he wouldn't mind if Kas did it tonight.

Steve shuddered slightly as calloused fingers brushed on his cool skin, and let out a moan when hot lips placed a tender kiss on his cheek.

Then without pausing, strong hands grabbed his hips before sharp teeth sank into his flesh, eliciting a yelp from him.

It wasn't painful. It just made Steve want to ask for more. So he turned around to do exactly that.

"Kas–"

"Call me Eddie," the man tugged him back into his lap.

"Eddie," he breathed out as he straddled the man's thighs.

"Yes, my sunshine?" Eddie smiled adoringly at him.

"Can I kiss you now?" Steve braced his hands on the broad shoulders with a raised eyebrow.

Tightening the arms around his waist, Eddie pecked him on his chin, sweet and loving.

"How about I let you kiss me for the rest of our lives, my pretty angel?"

"And I'll be yours for as long as we live?" Steve murmured against those plump lips.

"Yeah, gonna treat you right, my good boy," Eddie chuckled before drawing him into a fervent kiss.

Steve was so going to thank that Chrissy girl who had sold him her mascara and lipgloss later.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #soulmates steddie #sub steve harrington #dom eddie munson #meet sexy #sionewrites

[cloudshuffle]

unmasked. yan!childe

index / prev / next / beta reader @lupikekee

warnings: explicit nsfw

You break the surface of the cold waters face first. There’s still a tightness in your chest, but you find it’s just the blanket, all twisted up with your legs and tugging at you. You grumble, still trying to shake off the sticky cobwebs of sleep, and struggle out of bed. 

Apart from the ticking of the clock, you realise that a silence has fallen and that you’re alone. A peek out the window reveals that you’ve made it to open sea, which means that everyone can now relax - an occasion for drinking to any Snezhnayan.

You leave your mask, knowing that the others would have done the same, and make your way onto the deck.

Nadia’s the first to greet you, grabbing onto your arms and whirling you into the ring of people grouped loosely around a fire burning in a barrel. “You’re up! We missed you!”

Judging by the way one of the women casts her an unimpressed glance, “we” more accurately means “I”. But you’re grateful for her induction into the celebrations otherwise.

She pulls you down to sit with her on an overturned, oversized bucket. She looks like a wild fae of the forest, her eyes alight from both drink and joy, and her cheeks flushed rosy. 

“Your hair’s a mess,” you comment, helping her settle the unruly curls.

She giggles, kicking her feet like a child, and dive right back into whatever conversation they were having earlier. 

You feel yourself fading comfortably into the background, smiling and laughing whenever appropriate. Someone passes you a shot of fire water. It goes down like, well, liquid fire, burning down your throat and stomach from the inside, warmth slowly spreading to every part of your body. Another one finds its way into your hand soon after, but this one you refrain from tossing back.

Your gaze wanders out over the deck. The sails flap every so often in a steady wind, the ship cutting through the calm waters like a hot knife through butter. At this pace, you’ll be reaching Liyue the next morning. 

The faces around the fire are familiar and friendly, but only a handful of names come to mind. Surely the captain of the ship wouldn’t be excluded from the activities of his own crew…?

A chorus of cheers rises from the men facing me. “El capitan!” one of them cries in a horrible accent, raising his glass and tilting so far back the other men have to catch him. We all turn back in unison.

“Markus!” Ajax calls back, raising a fist in return. He’s lost the red cape, usually draped around his neck and over his back, and his red harbinger mask is also nowhere to be seen. Without it, you think he looks… younger. More normal. Less like a tyrant and more like a boy. “Sorry my business took so long.”

The ring shifts reverently, allowing their leader in amongst their midst. Tartaglia takes a seat on a barrel to your right, heaving a satisfied sigh. A glass is delivered into his hand immediately, and he inhales it just as you had. “Finally. I’ve been on my feet all day.”

The conversation resumes, still cheerful and light-hearted, but it’s hard to ignore the undercurrent that tows you all towards his presence. Drinking or not, a harbinger is still a harbinger, the closest person to the Tsaritsa you’ll ever get to see, someone who can order your execution at the flick of a hand. Some seem to be trying to take advantage of that. Others shy away.

You watch him closely, taking back your second shot. Funny enough, the expression he wears is closer to a mask than it was on the archery field, though he doesn’t have his mask around him now. He laughs and chats with his soldiers just the same, but you can tell that he feels the undercurrent too, like a black hole swallowing a galaxy.

Too much thinking. You pour yourself a third, then a fourth shot.

Now the edges of your vision begin to spark with a mystical light, and the warmth from the alcohol coils in your body like a serpent. The conversation thrums in your temples like a tribal drum, and the pendant of your necklace pricks at the pads of your fingers as you fiddle with it. It doesn’t help. 

“I’m going to step away for a bit,” you murmur to Nadia. 

She giggles, nodding enthusiastically. She’s had nearly twice as many drinks as you and is likely on the edge of hysteria, but you know someone’ll help her if she passes out. 

The front of the ship feels like a world away from the chatter, the wind cutting through your coat and helping to take the edge off the heat inside you. The stars are quiet and calm, twinkling peacefully a million miles away, a soothing sight to your still-unsettled nerves. 

You had no fear of the water, but enclosed spaces made you feel like you couldn’t breathe. The ocean felt like your friend. Your cabin… felt like the mouth of a lion, maybe. It was a curious fear, but you’d never been able to figure it out.

You’re toying with your necklace again. The string begins to chafe at the back of your neck, so you pull it up over your head.

It’s a crude thing, a sundial shell wrapped up in a twist of rusty metal and strung up on a piece of cotton rope, but beautiful too. Moonlight shows faintly through its translucent surface, making the shell glow blue. 

He had brought it to your bedside as a good luck charm, the same ‘he’ who’d dove into the lake and hauled you out. 

Ajax had been kind, and cheerful, and popular amongst the other children because there wasn’t a dare he wouldn’t do. You’d never gotten along particularly before the incident. But afterwards, when grandmothers muttered that the lake had taken your spirit if not your soul, and the other children refused to play with you, Ajax would still spend time sitting in windows and reading fairy tales with you.

“Here you are. I was looking for you.”

You lower the pendant. There’s no need to turn around to see who it is - his slow, measured strides across the deck are telling enough.

“I just needed to clear my head.” You lower your head to tie the necklace back on, avoiding his discerning gaze, his easy smile. “I hope my lord wasn’t too concerned about me.”

The corner of his lips quirks up. “Let me help.” His cool gloves brush against yours. 

You hesitate, then lower your hands. He knots the string together deftly, then sighs and takes up a place next to you, leaning on the railing of the ship.

You glance back. Behind you, you can hear the festivities breaking up. Most are returning to their cabins, though a small knot of men remain, drunkenly carolling an old Snezhnayan lullaby to the stars.

“Are you afraid? That people might talk?”

“I might, if there was anything to talk about, my lord.” You allow yourself a small smile as he furrows his brows, evidently displeased.

“Since when did you call me ‘my lord’?”

“Since we were a part of the Fatui, and you became a harbinger.” You nod towards his belt. “Since you wielded a Vision, and I didn’t. We’re not part of the same world anymore.”

Ajax sighs, running a hand through his hair and turning his gaze out to sea. “Won’t you at least call me Childe?”

The drink emboldens you. “It’s a silly name. You could’ve chosen something better.”

The corners of his mouth raise, seemingly against his will. The moon casts the bridge of his nose in silver, turns the blue of his eyes into clear, unfrozen pools, illuminates the lovely flush spread across his cheeks from the fire water. This is Ajax, you think to yourself. The Ajax you knew.

You gradually become aware that he’s giving you a similar appraisal, lips slightly parted as if he wants to say something, and you know - whatever you choose to do now will forever alter the course of your life.

Ajax reaches out and pulls you towards him, and you choose to let it happen.

His sweetness envelops you first, a gentle scent entirely at odds with the rough calluses on his hands. He folds you into his embrace and you tilt your head back, accepting the shy kiss he ghosts across your lips.

“Are you afraid?” you tease softly. “That people might talk?”

His eyes glint dangerously. He kisses you again, but this time urgent, hard, adjusting his grip so he clasps both your wrists. A surprised sound escapes you, and Ajax takes the opportunity to have a taste of you, pressing you backwards into the railing.

He tastes like the sweet aftertaste of hard liquor and fresh spring water, breath shuddering with desire, a low groan rumbling in his chest. No, you think. Not the exact same Ajax you'd known.

You pull back. “Ajax,” you murmur.

There’s no turning back now.

“Come on.” He doesn’t let go of you, tucking you into his side and guiding you to his cabin, set apart from everyone else’s. 

It’s warmly lit with a number of wax candles burning low in their holders, parchment and maps scattered across the small but functional desk. Best of all, there are multiple windows, and the moonlight throws a grid of light onto the floor. 

Your observing is interrupted when Ajax kisses you again, this time allowing himself a purr of pleasure, kneading his fingers into your sides. He fumbles with the lock behind you, then leads you step by step to the bed, not once allowing you to pull away.

“Since when did you get strong?” you gasp, finally surfacing for air. He cages you in with all four limbs, and you finally understand what that glint is. Hunger. Desire. Desperation, even.

“Since I was a part of the Fatui.” A kiss, on the corner of your lips. “Since I became a harbinger.” On the jaw. “Since I received my Vision.” A trembling, reverent kiss on your pulse. “Since I left Morepesok, and I’ve been thinking of what I left behind since.” 

He nudges aside the pendant he gave you, and this time the kiss comes with teeth.

You bite back a whine as his hands paw at your shirt, undoing the buttons with trembling fingers. He blows cool air over the mark, peeling your clothes aside.

“The good thing about the uniform,” he pants, pupils blown so wide his blue eyes look almost dark. “Is that it covers up a lot of skin.”

Before you can protest, he ducks his head, working inward from your shoulder to your collarbone. Each bite feels like an electrical shock. He kisses each bruise gently to soothe the pain, but you're still shaking by the end of it, chest heaving.

You're not sure when he got rid of your clothes, but as he leans back to take a look at his handiwork, your skin prickles under the intensity of his gaze. 

“I'm glad you weren't my first,” he mutters, moving down to your chest. “Then I wouldn't know how to make you feel… this good.”

His mouth closes on a pert nipple, and a thumb strokes gently along your slit.

He groans into your soft flesh when he earns himself nothing short of a whimper of his name. 

“Ajax,” you plea, your nails scraping against his back. It's too hot, too restrictive, and he rids himself of his clothes too. 

He can feel your hole, already clenching and unclenching with want, leaking arousal onto his fingers. He releases your boob, inhaling your scent deeply.

It's sweet and salty and everything he's imagined your love to be. His dick jumps in his pants. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, and slides one finger in.

The moan you let out has him painfully hard, but Childe doesn't want to hurt you. He curls his finger inside of you, massaging gently, then pushes in another. 

You're trembling now, the pressure in your lower stomach mounting. The cool roughness of his glove against the hotness within you draws moan after moan from you. 

“Patience, darling.” You squeeze around him, fast and desperate… and he removes his finger, leaving you teetering on the edge. 

“Ajax,” you cry. Smiling, he bites into the softness of your stomach, and this time he catches your hips when they jerk up to collide with his chest.

“I imagined every one was you. I hoped I could fall in love with another,” he confides quietly. Your legs fold up your chest obediently. “But they were just… not enough. They just weren't you.”

“Is this a confession?” you manage to gasp. He's so large, larger than the few you've seen, his hot weight resting on your pussy. You can feel yourself throb, your slit weeping just for him.

“It's a declaration.”

His hands pin your wrists above your head, and he pushes past your entrance.

You make a sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan. “Big,” you whimper.

He shushes you, leaning in for a kiss as he inches deeper, bit by bit. You squirm underneath him both in pleasure and pain.

“Tell me if it's too much.” His voice sounds strained. His veins scrape against every inch of your ribbed walls, pulsing and twitching as you swallow him whole. “Oh, baby, so tight, so warm… Baby, baby.” One hand clasps your chin. “Look at me. Don't look away.”

You whine assent. Your whole body alights with sparks, but you can feel him approaching somewhere dangerous.

His tip massages against a sensitive spot, your hips jump up of their own accord, and he slams into that sweet gummy area deep within you.

You throw your head back with a cry of his name, your hips shuddering, grinding you into him as you cum so hard you see stars.

“Shit,” he hisses, and starts thrusting into you.

You fit him so perfectly, it feels like your pussy was already moulded into the shape of his dick. Your walls flutter frantically around him, drawing him deeper, deeper, until he knows his tip is kissing your cervix because you moan with every thrust.

“C'mon baby, one more time, you can cum for me,” he mutters, beginning to lose himself in the obscene squelching of your cum all over him. “Inside, ah, gonna fill you up, gonna cum inside…”

He picks up the pace, and the pressure in your tummy begins to build again. Your back is arching, your hips shuddering, and still Ajax fucks you relentlessly.

“Look at me, baby, c’mon, cum for me, cum together, ngh, together, cumming, cumming, cumming-”

He moans loudly, and you swear you can see heart in his eyes, his hips still pistoning into you as hot, heavy ropes of cum spill into you where you never knew you were empty.

“One more time, yeah?” he pants.

— word count: 2506. thank you for reading!

#cloud writes #genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #genshin #yandere childe #childe #genshin childe #childe tartaglia ajax #tartaglia #genshin tartaglia #yandere tartaglia #smut #childe smut #tartaglia smut #tartaglia x reader #childe x reader #genshin smut

[siremasterlawrence]

Gotham City By Hypnosis

Bruce Wayne’s Wayne Tech company is off to a sizzling ending to the day when the ole building alarm alert system came on blaring loudly.

Bruce loses his mind getting up as the doors seal closed completely with the window and the steel shuddering all the way down locks them in place.

Bruce panics when his officer walks slide to the side of the room as Superman and good toe shoes Captain America waltz into the room.

“What are you two doing here?”

“We are here to offer assistance if you want.”

“Why lie? We are here to arrest you menace of Gotham.”

“Hilarious! My city is well protected.”

“You mean preyed on”

“Clark look out”

“Kryptonite huh?”

“Does not work on me anymore?”

“What kind of magic is this “

“A wonderful treat”

“You have transformed “

“He is found his proper palace”

“Kneeling at my feet”

“Who are you?”

“Your future Master”

“I bow to no one “

“Are you aiding me or him?”

“Foolish Bruce”

“Boys reach over and collect him”

“Yank them to the side”

“Perfection! Bring him to me “

“Yes Sir”

“Yes Master “

“I shall never submit”

“I am cupping your face for sheer understanding “

“I own you, you see this device on your fore head and sleep”

“Yes Masted! Command me”

Clark and Steve lift up Bruce placing him on the desk laying him straight spreading his body turning him to the side for me to see him on fully on display.

The man placed his finger on to the altering mind control chip pressing on the center of it as the emblem on it glows extravagantly shining throughout the entire building.

Bruce falling in to a deep slumber standing on each side of him, three gleefully with a hell of a joy as a certain blue and black tight leather costumed man.

Lands on to the window sill he cracks it a bit open slipping in to catch us unknowingly but a foot hits him on pressure points and he is tumbling.

Face forward on the floor both men put a foot on him pinning him down for me to walk to him and placing the chip on his head as he going under.

A Hypnotic mind link activated linking those two together soon they both feel like the floor is breaking from under him as the two hit rock bottom.

They shift Bruce to the side leaving him next to Dick the man smooths his hands off of his face then cupping it in to a sweet long and sexy kiss.

Both guys are sitting in a chair suddenly you know they are totally strapping them both down and leaving them mindless and a absolute husk.

Clark and Steve move even closer inching to my sides they wrap over my waist kissing my neck slowly and hugging me leaving my scent on them.

“Sorry Dick”

“You will see Master is ideal “

“He is God”

“Yyyyeeesssss”

“He is everything “

“God you are both hard”

“And smiling “

“Scary”

“Yes sexy”

“Call him Master”

“Master Lawyer “

“Master! Master! Are you there?”

“Yes my pet “

“Take my hands”

“Wrap me in your arms”

“Bruce”

“Dick”

“I am your God”

“Sir Yes Sir”

“Strip me with your eyes”

“Love my glorious body it I s all we crave

“The name is Red Hood”

“Soooo”

“Bruce and Dick”

“Yes Master”

“Wake up “

“Kick his ass”

“Yes Sire”

“I do it all”

“We love you “

“Get over here Brat”

“You need a spanking “

“A proper reprogramming “

“Master needs to save you “

“Help to rehabilitate you”

“Such a lost soul”

“I am back bitches”

“Enough Jason Todd”

“Insolent young man”

“Let me go”

“Fuck you !”

“SHUT UP!”

“Punch him”

“Grab his neck”

“Kiss me”

“I categorically refuse “

“Oh yeah! Stop being so turned on”

“I am not hard”

“Look at your pants”

“Smack him again”

“Without any effort the device lites him up on his forehead and transcends him in to total enslavement.”

The end

#ben affleck #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #brenton thwaites #nightwing #curran walters #jason todd #red hood #mind control chip #mind link #hypnosis #mind control #hypno slave #reprogramming #hypno submission #Super Enslavement

[thetalamhclisteach]

What goes bump in the night? Who’s riled and ready for a fright? Why it’s these three mischievous young knaves of course, Dhorpor, Mharghy and Carcass Kid. This tricky trio is comprised of orphans who were brought into the halls of the great Eolasug of Drynyra for their particular proficiencies as promising prodigies of the scientific disposition.

Dhorpor! A rough one he is, but judging from how well he ended up taking rending his skull open to prod at his chronic brain trauma and consequently stitching it all back together this bald bespectacled kid is a tough nut to crack. Found among the filth of a sty rife with lardy beasts of burden by the outer parts of the municipality, his abilities of dissection and amputation surely came from his tendency towards cruelty and sadistic behaviour. Rather than the mud-rollers of the past, he helps the good cullahs of the halls with surgery and even excels quite well in his extraction of tumors and painful growths. Many a limb and many an organ have been skimmed and skewered under his blade to the express agony of many patients, of course a small price to pay in the way of the alleviation of dismay and the prospect of making it to the next wretched day. A playful loud mouth and energetic assistant, this boy might only be a few articles on anatomy and years in the plague-ridden city from becoming a true butcher of men.

Mharghy! The lanky cranky teen of one eye may appear to only bear half of her vision about her, however her wicked wits and careless creativity are never to be seen as anything half-minded or half-handed. A terrible team of infections took about her body in the midst of her adolescence, leaving her with a wary wavy spine and a socket of her skull compromised. Rather than seeking the dubious treatments of the looming quarters of the city, she took needle and thread upon herself to mend her own wounds. Such a determined dedication to the work of seasoned skin stitching translated into her task of bringing patchworked patients back together. Reconnecting innards and reconciling internals is no simple deed, a grizzly process which ought to leave one standing with most of (if not more) of their limbs and organs. A snarky sardonic cynic of the surgical sort, this girl can’t hold in a hardy laugh at the woes of others, even if it means her glass eye popping out.

…Carcass Kid? A relatively recent arrival from a lonely land in the heart of Talukod, this strange and stiff… kid reportedly was one among a band of travelers who involved themselves in niche mysteries. Their putrid presence seems to submerge and stifle the high spirits of any chamber they happen to stalk as some who have come into contact with this corpse-like character would come to claim. Their face is often obscured by the damp hood which adorns their noggin at all times, beyond a twisted black thicket of hair lies there a face both youthful and terribly skeletal, a ghastly pale visage of calm yet unsettling emotion. They rarely can be heard speaking as their voice remains soft and whispery, however this does not appear to trouble their companions Dhorpor and Mharghy. The particular proficiency of this unusual youngster is quite certainly difficult for most to get a grim grasp on, as they seem to know death on a level which few in these halls of progress can conceive. Some have spread rumors that the wise citizen scientist Prydlyn Pyrmarbh has taken to conferring with this young mystic concerning pseudoscience and snake oils, possibly spurred on by a rising internal distrust and only made stronger through a prejudice against those from partially-integrated border communities. As far as can be parsed from what brief interactions have been made with this poorly understood child they seem to especially enjoy the company of their companions, be that in strenuous study or simply wandering the sullen sickly streets of Drynyra bearing with them some of the last remaining jolly juvenile joy around.

#wrought-rot #character art #mad scientists #halloween #spooky

[cosmos-coma]

Prey of the Hunt- Chapter 3

A/N:

Pairing: Eskel x Reader

Warnings: reader with (temporary) amnesia, Non-verbal reader (also temporary),  Traumatized reader, Game canon characters/lore.

Word count: 2k

Chapter Summary: You spend your first day of normal life at Kaer Morhen and get closer to its inhabitants, but are still plagued by faint wisps of your memory.

Chapter 4

______________________________

You woke up with the sun early the next morning. Your body was stiff and creaky as you rolled yourself out of bed, legs still sore with overuse. The sun streamed soft rays into the windows and spread out on the floor, giving the room a faint sense of warmth that the dead fire could no longer give.

You pulled a spare blanket around you and poked your head out into the hallway, feet quietly padding along against the cold stone. It was quiet and still, no one else yet stirring in the halls, so you began to wander the keep until you ended up in the library. 

With a little effort, you managed to reignite the long-dead embers in the library’s fireplace. Your quiet humming meandered with you through the shelves as you went about, picking out a few books to try. Once you had a good collection you dragged a comfortable chair over in front of the fireplace and cracked them open, hoping one of them will have something to jog your memory.

What you didn’t notice was Eskel and Geralt standing at the door to the library, one watching you with a soft joy, the other with a cautious curiosity. 

Eskel nudged his brother and spoke quietly, enough that he was sure you wouldn’t be able to hear. “What's with the look, Geralt?”

The white wolf frowned for a moment before stepping back from the door with his brother. “I’m worried you're getting in over your head, Eskel” Geralt finally let out.  “I’ve seen how you watch her, and I’m glad you're happy. But I just-” 

“You're gonna be worried until you know exactly who she is.” Eskel finished. “I know you, Geralt… You’re a good brother, but you’re not subtle.” he laughed a bit. 

Geralt couldn’t help but crack a bit of a smile, “I know… and I know you can take care of whatever comes. But I know who they are. I just-....“ He paused and glanced back to where you were seated, searching for the right words. “To be associated with the Wild Hunt and also somehow know where Kaer Morhen is?” He shook his head a bit in thought, “It seems like too much of a coincidence… and I may be reading into nothing, but you can never be too safe,” he advised. 

Eskel nodded with a gentle smile and clapped his brother's shoulder, “I get it…. I know you're just trying to watch out for everyone, but you can leave your Witcher duties on the path for now. We’ll be fine.” 

Your ears perked up at the sound of the clap and you looked over at the two men standing in the doorway. A small smile spread across your face and you knocked on your chair to get their attention before waving.

The rest of your day came and went uneventfully, which you were thankful for. You spent more time getting acquainted with the library, exploring the grounds, and helping Vesemir here and there with the maintenance of the keep. 

You suspected the older witcher rather enjoyed having someone like you around. You listened to his stories and advice with a nod and worked quietly. But you figured any dad to three rowdy boys with swords would like a quiet companion from time to time, and you enjoyed the meaningful work and conversation. 

The sun had just fallen away from the sky when you finally saw Eskel again. You figured he must’ve been extremely busy because you hadn’t caught sight of him since the library that morning. 

His red and black tunic was dusted gray with dirt and His body and eyes looked tired as he walked into the great hall, plucking hay from his hair.

“Eskel!” you mouthed happily and waved to him, setting your mug down as delight filled you. 

His eyes filled with warmth and life as they took you in, shoulders raising from their slumped posture and lips tugging into a small smile. “Y/n…” he breathed in a way that made your heart flutter. 

Eskel slid into the bench beside you, knees knocking against yours as he moved to a comfortable spot. “How was the rest of your day? I haven't seen you since the library this morning” He said, voice rumbling pleasantly from the broad body beside you. 

“Good” you mouthed, using your hands and lips to try and explain your day, despite being met with difficulty. Your brows knitted together in frustration, struggling both to convey what you mean and to use your pained fingers so much in one day. 

“It’s okay, I understand.” He said, an easy smile gracing his lips; they always seemed to come so easy with you. “You say you explored a bit and helped Vesemir patch up the keep? Your patience must be far greater than mine, and I'm the most patient of the bunch. Besides Vesemir that is….” He said with a short laugh. 

You smiled, loving that he seemed to understand you no matter what, no matter how difficult you found it. You nodded with a tinge of pink gracing your cheek, happy at the compliment. “Where were you today?” you asked him.

“Why? Did you miss me?” He teased, feeling more confident with the blush he was able to produce from you, even more so from the way your cheeks darkened now. “I was just finishing up my chores for tomorrow. I figured since you’ll be staying here a while and it will be getting cold soon, that… maybe we should get you a few warm clothes from town?” 

You blinked in surprise at the offer and placed your hand on his arm, raising your eyebrows to say, “are you sure?” 

“I’m sure…. I made out with some extra coin this year and making sure you don't catch your death this winter will be more than worth it” He assured, his hand coming to rest over yours briefly. 

An almost overwhelming wave went through you as your hands touched, making your chest tighten all over again. It was different than the last time you felt it, back when the Wild Hunt was chasing you; this tightness felt… almost exciting amidst all your nerves. 

You nodded and smiled breathlessly, squeezing his arm in thanks. 

“Of course. We can leave whenever you’re ready tomorrow, so just let me know when, alright?” 

Your conversation was put to a pause as Vesemir and Geralt brought dinner out for the lot of you. 

As you ate, you listened to the guys recount their many tales of the season; from katakans to werewolves to berserkers. They were all fascinating tales from various areas of the continent and the surrounding isles. They made you feel a sense of wonder to hear it all, but also an… almost sickening sense of familiarity as they described certain areas. 

As they talked about parts of Skellige and White Orchard you found yourself silently disagreeing with their descriptions. Things that… just didn’t sit correctly with your foggy memory, yet you couldn’t focus on the details of it. 

“Y/n?” Lambert asked as you were hit in the forehead with a small piece of bread, pulling you out of your swirling thoughts. “You alright? You look like you just got a mouthful of rotten meat and are trying to keep it to yourself.”

You flinched as the bread hit you and nodded quietly. “I’m fine”  you mouthed. Though the way that the three younger witchers glanced at each other you knew they didn’t quite believe you. However, they decided to let it go for now and continue telling their tales, glancing back at you every once in a while to check-in. 

You excused yourself at some point in the evening to go back to your room, figuring the guys would be up for quite a while catching up. 

You fiddled with the flint and steel for a little while before you were able to get the fire going in your room. The weather hadn’t been getting too cold at night yet, but something inside you seemed to miss the way that fire warmed you deep within. 

Without warning, a knock came at the door, causing you to jump and almost drop your flint in the fire. You quickly got to your feet you padded over to answer, relieved when you saw Eskel standing there. 

“Hey, are things okay?” You mouthed out.

“It looked like your fingers were hurting you at dinner… I thought we could change your bandages and see how you're doing.”

You tilted your head a bit, not in confusion but in an odd feeling of fondness that came over you. With a nod, you opened the door a little wider to wave him in, closing it promptly behind him to keep the heat in. 

You took a seat on the edge of your bed, watching with tender eyes as he took his spot across from you on the floor and began to set out his things. 

It was quiet as he unwrapped your bandaged fingers, only the crackling of the fire and the breaths between you disrupted the silence, yet it was still comfortable. 

Eskel smoothed a gel-like salve over all your wounds, instantly cooling the aggressive heat radiating from your wounds. He watched your face as you sighed happily, relief flooding your senses as your eyes closed happily and he realized he wanted nothing more than to see you like this for the rest of your life. It was a little jarring, admittedly, for his brain to jump to such emotions so soon, but the look of peace and happiness on your face now- it was something he knew he would work towards every day.

Eskel’s hands worked quickly and professionally and you soon found yourself savoring the feeling of your unwrapped fingers; tenderly touching the soft furs beneath you, the linen shirt that you wore, and the worn wooden bedpost. However, as you watched Eskel tenderly care for you and the fire’s glow dance on his skin… you found yourself reaching out to touch his cheek as well. 

Just a faint and ghostly touch at first, testing the waters as he flinched ever so slightly beneath your touch. Though, as quickly as he flinched he relaxed once again, leaning into your touch where his breath came out hot against your palm.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding as you pressed your fingers more firmly against his skin. Letting your fingertips move through the valleys of his scars as a river moves through mountains. Your whole body hummed with electricity as you touched, a peculiar heat running from your head to your toes that only intensified as Eskels face slowly came closer.

His large hand came up to cover yours, hoping beyond hope to keep your touch there for just a moment longer, his lips even brushing against your palm amidst his swirling thoughts.

Bringing your other hand up to further cradle his face your movements were interrupted by the sound of Geralt and Lambert stumbling tipsily down the hall to their rooms. The sudden jolt of sound as they passed by your door caused you to unwillingly pull your hands back as you flinched.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” You mouthed as Eskel looked up once again, shaking off the touch-starved fog that had clouded him. 

“No, not at all, I-” he paused and pulled his face back from your reach, gathering himself once again. “I should let you get some sleep anyways. It’ll be a long day tomorrow….” he finished and stood, picking up the remainder of his supplies. 

“Wait-” You tried to get say, forcing your throat into cooperation, but it only resulted only in a squeak. A squeak that went ignored by the Witcher's ears as he swiftly made his leave with only a  quiet “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight…”

And now you were alone once again, the quiet smoldering of the fire your only companion. You let a shuddering breath escape you as you finally laid back into the furs of your bed. The remnants of electricity still tingled at your fingertips where you touched him. 

You lay awake for quite a while, your thoughts returning to Eskel no matter what. After a while of tossing and turning, your body finally found sleep and all the dreams that come with it.

_________________________________

Taglist: @writingmysanity @open--till--midnight

#you'll get your first actual memory in the begining of the next chapter! #eskel witcher #eskel #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #eskel x reader #eskel x you #eskel fanfiction #eskel x y/n #eskel x reader fluff #a bit anyways #but youre interrupted

[notenoughmuses]

Many things had been restored. Dragons in the world. The Targaryen House was back on the throne after three long years. Viserys had survived the molten gold that had poured over him. He'd been left with scarring and his hair had taken its time growing back to its previous length. But as he made his way back to the Free Cities he'd found a blue dragon egg and it'd hatched soon after.

Rhaellion, named after his mother Rhaella had been a source of renewed hope and joy for the Begger King. He thought of trying to find his sister but he'd heard from some wandering merchants who had heard from others who had heard from some Dothraki that Khal Drogo was dead. His silver haired Khalessi had walked into a pyre and after that....he didn't know.

Viserys knew he would have felt it if Daenerys has died. She was his sister, raised her for four and ten years. When he thought of her, Viserys felt a nauseous feeling in his stomach, which told him Dany could be alive. He recalled the same feeling settling after his mother had passed.

Three years had passed and Viserys had been able to let his dragon eat how she wanted, Illyrio had given him stay at his manse when the man saw the live dragon, the Golden Comapny was also more apt to follow the Targaryen now aa well and more sellswords came following. Viserys bid his time, his dragon had grown fast in size with its free range diet and life and could easily be rode. He taken all his knowledge from his history and books he'd read in his childhood and whatever texts he could find in Essos now he had coin for such things.

Westeros had been going through various wars and much had happened. The Starks were spread across Westeros, a war of Five Kings had passed and a boy King sat the throne after his brothers passing. Viserys and his army sailed to Westeros as soon as Joffery Baratheon had died, hoping to catch the throne in a state of chaos. The fight for the throne hadn't been easy and some figures had fled the capitol, namely Sansa Stark and Tyrion Lannister before he had even got to Westeros.

Tommen Baratheon had been usurped and declared a bastard of incest, not approved by the faith and sent to be a Maester. His sister had been a thorn for Viserys who he had allowed to live in part because Arianne Martell had asked, she became her lady in waiting when Viserys learned of the marriage pact which Viserys had honored. Vowing to do better for the Kingdom and not make his brothers mistakes.

Cersei Lannister had been exiled to Essos, working for Illyrio in his Manse. Her twin Jamie had been sent to the wall and Tywin Lannister had been caught and resided in the deepest parts of the Black Cells, tortured slowly and painfully as payment for how he and his men had destroyed the Targaryen and Martell family. The former crowns allies of the Reach had backed their true King once Tommen had been dethroned. He took Margaery Tyrell as his second wife with Ariannes permission as he allowed her to have her own paramour. Though his first wife's paramour hadn't lasted long in Court due to politics and rumors.

Viserys sat the throne with two wives, Arianne having just announced she was with child and his dragon, Rhaellion who had laid a clutch of eggs which was bond to hatch hopefully soon, when he'd gotten word that ships sailing from Essos were on their way. An armada by the sounds of it, all flying the Targaryen House flag.

Dany. She was alive! Three healthy dragons and an army, became Queen in her own right. Viserys was elated to have his sister come back, knowing she was alive, despite the small voice growing louder in his head, reminding him that she'd basically ordered his death, allowed her Khal to kill him. His wives and his small council thought otherwise. Telling him how she'd thought he was dead, how she was coming to take the throne. It would be another Dance if he wasn't careful. Viserys wondered if she knew he was alive or not, if like himself, she'd learned only recently of her status in life.

"Daenerys, what do I owe this visit?"

@reiignonme @kizhavvorsa @incissam @westerosiqueens @ any other Danys

#;;open #;;viserys targaryen

[lya-dustin]

Someone will remember us

Chapter 77

Taglist: @mercedesdecorazon @stargaryenx @arrthurpendragon

Gif by @theonewiththeimaginaryboyfriends

Her first kiss had been at this hour, she had been three and ten and he about to turn four and ten.

It is the hour of the eel when they find him.

Cold to the touch and barely alive.

The current had led him to the river bank at a distance where the water was boiling black and red over his dragon’s resting place.

“I am sorry, your grace.” The guard said taking off his helm in respect for the dead.

Aemma knows how to resuscitate a drowned person.

Every Velaryon is taught and Teora had reminded Aemma that as a seafaring people it was indispensable for them to get over the idea of putting her lips on a person and take it seriously.

She doesn’t bother undressing him with care and instead takes his own dagger and cuts the straps on the sides of his armor, she doesn’t stop until she and Cole have freed his chest from the leather padding and the cotton shirt she had mended for him yesterday.

The queen placed her hands on her husband’s cold chest and pressed just as she had been taught.

But it isn’t enough.

A Mermaid’s Kiss, some call it.

As she pinched his nose and opened his mouth, Aemma gives him what she hopes is not his last kiss.

Aemond knows he is not dead.

He comes to his senses doubled over as he expelled the water inside his lungs the same way it came into them.

Aemma holds him by the shoulders, crying in joy as Cole shouts ‘long live the king’ to their men.

They cheer for him, for them because perhaps the gods have decided they were done torturing his poor wife.

He is bruised, and while he did manage to shake off his boot, Aemond still managed to break his left foot.

If four days felt too long, six weeks would feel like torture.

But he is alive, and if he is alive then maybe Aemma can change fate.

“I suppose the Gods have declared you innocent, boy.” Roddy the Ruin says when they get back to Harrenhal.

“I never meant to kill Lucerys, I lost control over my dragon who mistook the command to chase after him for killing him.” Aemond admits and somehow these strangers believe him.

His own mother hadn’t.

Even Cole had doubted his word.

He supposed his being alive proves his innocence.

“I swore an oath on my son’s life I would not kill him, and I kept it.”

Vhagar had acted on instinct, the old beast while large and formidable, had been as old as the Doom and with age she had become difficult to subdue.

As stupid as it sounds, his dragon had killed the boy, not him.

He had never broken his oath.

Something that the Northmen and the Rivermen could respect.

Aemond only likes to be fussed over in private and while he has never been the one to show his affection in public, but he holds her hand just as he did when Luke accidentally took his eye.

The maester binds his foot and his grip on her hand tightened from the pain.

He may walk with crutches, ride in a few weeks and ,as mortified as Aemma had been when her husband asked, there was no reason to keep Aemond from his husbandly duties.

“Aegon lives. He has taken Dragonstone and demands I bend the knee to him.” He says once the pain subsidies enough to speak without gritting his teeth.

Thank the gods Baela was in High Tide and not Dragonstone. Gods forbid Aegon gets his hand on her.

“Imagine his shock when he finds his reign to be illegitimate in more ways than one.”

If the King’s Will could be disregarded in favor of Aegon, then it will be easy to disregard the Great Council now that Baela has sent the letters proving it was rigged.

Letters written by King Jaehaerys himself saying it had to be done.

Letters detailing how Otto Hightower, Grand Maester Runciter and Maester Mellos had done it.

Letters that had Sabitha Frey speechless and offering ravens and scribes to spread it through the Seven Kingdoms and across the Narrow Sea as well.

Once Aemma is on the Throne, she will codify primogeniture regardless of sex into the laws of Westeros and ensure a war like this never happens again.

And in all the commotion, Aemma forgets to tell him about Addam.

There is no good opportunity for it, she tells herself.

“Have my sons brought home, Mysaria.” The queen orders as seven year old Joffrey, the last of her children with Harwin, is measured for his coronation clothes.

He took after her, more than his brothers and sister. Had her blue-lavender eyes like Aemma and Aegon did. Had her nose and Harwin’s smile.

The last of her boys.

“As you wish.” The woman said.

“Will Aemma come too, mama?” Her sweet boy asked.

He believes he will be Prince of Dragonstone because he is a boy, he doesn’t know his sister chose Alicent’s one-eyed son over them.

“I doubt the One-Eye will let her, your highness. Not after he killed your step-father.” The White Worm spoke with a voice as soft and cool as Yi-Tish silk.

It was a voice one could believe no matter what lies she sold to you.

Daemon had challenged Aemond to a duel, not just a duel, but a Trial by Combat.

And he had lost.

A heart attack as they fought or so Aemond had told his wife while Lady Misery’s spies write everything down.

‘I lost control of Vhagar, I never meant to kill your brother.’ Sweet lies he tells her stupid daughter, sweet lies she eats straight from his lips.

“That’s enough for today,” Rhaenyra dismissed the tailors.

“What news have you for me?” The queen asked the Mistress of Whisperers.

“Did you hear? The Great Council was a sham, says so here.” The girl named Heidi said and gave Wyl the strange letter being sent everywhere at once.

It was not news to him, Maester Mellos has confessed it on his death bed, but he had not assumed any proof existed.

“I pray you can forgive, Rhaenys, but my Hand believes this is the best way to avoid bloodshed and this war I see in my nightmares.” Orwyle read to the whores who look too disturbingly similar to the Princesses he himself helped deliver.

With this letter, the reigns of Viserys, Aegon and Rhaenyra are rendered null.

The queen barely liked her daughter defying her, now this combined with Daemon’s death would be something straight from the Seventh Hell.

“What does the Shepherd say?” the Maester asked his unwitting informants.

“He says it is time to take back the realm and rid ourselves of the dragons.” Zelda said with a look of utter devotion he mislikes.

She never missed a sermon, went there in disguise because the Shepherd is fond of killing whores.

“Tomorrow we storm the dragonpit.”

#aemma velaryon #someone will remember us fic #aemond targaryen x velaryon!oc #ocappreciationtag #fyeahhotdocs

[edgelordfinalboss]

Part One: Outlaws of Santa Carla (The Lost Boys Fanfiction/ Western American AU Fanfiction)🤠🦇✨🖤

Paul was never going to be an outlaw.

It was never in his plans, being that he was the son of Santa Carla's most renowned pianist, pioneering the occupation for the last few years. From salon to open venues, he was at his father's side, learning all that there was to know. His fingers memorized each key like the back of his hand. That was until his father was turned. Since that night, he vowed that he would never allow another person he loved to fall into the same fate. 

Paul's bubbling ambition to outstand his father's Mozart worthy talent had turned into dust. The roadmap that was so clear, his plans of getting better, to deviate from the same tunes and cut and copy songs that riled up crowds was no longer. 

The wind had willed him here and who was he to fight against it?

Paul shoves his fingers deeper into the warm sand. No one.

"Marko!"

The slanting sunlight spread across the ground, giving a strong reflective gleam to pooling blood that lays under a vampire hunter. The face of the corpse makes him sick, claws drawn deep into his face, highlighting a broken jaw. He had seen the worst, but at the very end of their journey, this seemed to be the one that struck him the hardest. With the sun obstructing his view, his eyes find his closest friend. 

Marko grips his stomach where the bullet had slammed into him, leaving a trail of blood splattered in the sand. His fangs glow in the light as he gasps for air. 

"Marko, what happened!" Paul breaks from the treeline boarding the empty space besides Marko, the hunter and a single horse chewing at a patch of grass. 

Slowly, Marco stops, lifting his bloody clawed hands away from his crimson stained tunic, revealing a completely healed spot. Paul tucks his golden locks behind his ear as he nears, trying to push off the panic attempting to burst at the seams. Marco reaches to the hunters belt, plucking away an obsidian encrusted dagger. 

"We did it. Now you don't have to put us in danger anymore. Now we can be free." Paul's thoughts race around his head, filling him with a joy that weeks and weeks of journey and sleeping with one eye open couldn't bring him.

"Thank God!" He huffs, his boots slamming into the hot sand of the endless golden stretch. 

Marko doesn't move. His blue eyes remain empty, leaving no remains of the gold that once filled them. They stay fixed on the horizon, the sun slowly dropping in the sky, painting the evening with hues of cobalt and violet. 

Paul draws back from his childhood friend who he had tried so hard to accept despite the revelation of him being a vampire. It had been hard and deep in the facade of love and kindness that he had shown for his friend was the will to walk away. To accept defeat. 

"What's wrong?" Paul's voice grows silent as his eyes draw to the dagger of Billy the Kid. This was the famed dagger that the outlaw carried, changing his victims into creatures of blood or himself before using it to change back to a man. 

Marko shakes his head, flipping the black blade between his blood stained fingers. "You will accept me when I kill a part of myself."

"What?" Paul carefully curls his fingers around the boy's shoulder. His fingers work their way into his shoulders. "You know that isn't true."

Marko wipes the blood from his cheeks, eyes lighting up with a soft gold gleam again.

"Then why did you lead me to Billy's grave?" Marko looks at the broken gravestone and the hole that had once been there, half covering the skeleton. 

"To help you, to set you free from this hunger." A burning feeling of annoyance grips Paul, all his hard work and dedication thrown to the wind. Time and a messed up reputation that only very good lies will have the power to clean.

"Free me?" Marko echos. "We killed men for this. You didn't free anyone Paul. If anything, you drove us into a well we can't crawl out of."

"Not true!" Paul snaps. "Those men stood in our way." 

Paul knew he was right. There was no mistaking that. He did what he could, even if his morality was wrong. 

"If I become human and we go back to that town, they'll execute us."

Paul blows a breath. "We'll become outlaws, just like Billy did until they forget about us."

"Or get shot and become the price for someone's prize money." Marko holds on to the knife tight. "I won't let you change me." 

Paul didn't even have a chance to blink. Marko jumps in his path, kicking up sand clouds, The obsidian blade flashes as it slices through the sunlight. Paul steps back, stunned as his friend, his closest friend threatens him. 

"You're just like them!" Marko yells. 

Paul's mind floats back to their memories, their friendship. All that they have been through. This couldn't be the end. He could not let himself fall into the same raging hunger. 

"This isn't-."

"-this isn't me?" Marko laughs. "That's right, while you were searching for fame, I was fighting for my life on the prairie and now the only way that you'll care about me is if I rid myself of the person who overcame that lonely struggle."

#the lost boys #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys paul #lost boys paul #the lost boys marko #the lost boys david #thelostboys

[kristennichole96]

Only have eyes for you

You were the new girl coming to Hawkins this year and of course you were no stranger to being the new girl, or Hawkins, for that matter. You spent your winter and summer breaks in Hawkins spending time with your cousin Dustin Henderson and your aunt. Most of your life was composed of moving from town to town making it hard for you to make friends. Coming to Hawkins during your visits you got to bond with your cousin and his friends and feel like a normal kid for once. Such warm happy memories of this place is what you cling dearly to trying to settle your nerves. Today is your first day back in Hawkins sense you were twelve, you’re seventeen now, and feel like an outcast coming into a school of lifelong friendships and social click pyramids you were sure to fit at the bottom of. There is nothing more you want just to fly under the radar , to not be noticed until the next move, but that won’t be coming. The courts granted your aunt temporary custody of you until your eighteenth birthday so you were stuck in Hawkins like it or not.

(Time jump 6 months) You had never been happier in your life. Friends and family surrounded you, you had a support system, your grades were thriving and you were overwhelmed with joy to have been forced into your move to Hawkins. Being a senior in high school your days , not in school, our spent with your friends and for once in your life you finally have some. This particular evening you’re standing outside of your school with your friend Robin Buckley smoking a cigarette as you wait on the rest of your friends to find their ways to you as the school bell rang. “ Soooo you gunna tell ehm this time” Robin almost sang to you with a shit eating grin spread across her face. “ No I don’t want to get rejected, plus it’ll make things so awkward” you say ashing your cigarette on the bottom of your shoe. “ There is no way he would reject you , he’s constantly flirting with you MAKE YOUR MOVE GIRL” Robin says as she spots your friends Nancy, Steve and Max heading in your direction and dead’s the conversation. You scan beyond your friends searching for Eddie. The two of you made plans to smoke and chill after school which may not have been a huge deal to Eddie but to you it was. You have had the biggest crush on Eddie Munson sense you returned to Hawkins and you didn’t have the courage to tell him. You scan the faces of the passing by students until you find who you’re looking for. Wild Brown curls, black ripped denim jeans and his signature Dio vest,Eddie was a god,and that boy had no clue. Just then you noticed accompanying your friend Eddie is the Head cheerleader of the school ,little miss perfect Chrissy Cunningham, walking towards the tree-line behind the school . Eddie doesn’t notice you and you feel really hurt and stupid as you watched them fade into the tree line . You knew deep down girls like chrissy wouldn’t be got caught dead dating Eddie and that more than likely this was just a weed pickup but you cant help but have noticed how he held her by the small of her back and looked at her the way you wanted him to see you. Do you stay and wait in you and Chrissy or just go home ?You turn to Steve and ask for a ride home. “ what about Eddie??!” Robin insists.” I’ve just seen him and he seemed pretty preoccupied, I’m sure he forgot our plans if not he’ll find something better to do “ tears well in your eyes and you feel like such an idiot . Here you are crying over some guy and trying to play it’s so casual, your friends silently try to piece things together trying to avoid asking you why you were tearing up.

Steve’s car smells nice like men’s cologne and minty fresh pine. You take a deep breath from the passenger seat as you slowly open your wet , stinging eyes you notice Eddie and Chrissy exiting the woods heading in the opposite directions. Eddie heads towards your friends who somberly watched Steve drive you away. You wondered if Robin would say anything to Eddie, she’s the only one who would know what’s going on in my head , and you knew the girl wasn’t capable of a secret. Steve pulled up to your house and made sure you made it inside safely and you spent your night getting ridiculously stoned on your own and watching your comfort movie , Jeepers creepers,. The next day you woke up early to make yourself look as good as you can for Eddie . You thought about what you would say if he asked you why you bailed on him or if Robin opened her overly helpful mouth I could be in for a shitty day. You’re able to avoid Eddie and honestly most of your friends today just out sheer businesses and luck but now it’s lunchtime and you can’t avoid your friends any longer it was time to face the music. You walk into the crowded cafeteria grabbing a turkey sub and a chocolate milk and head over your lunch table . You squeeze between Eddie and Robin in your usual spot and conversation picks up normally and all of your fears began to subside. That’s when Eddie turns to you asks “ So why did you ditch me yesterday ?” You look at Eddie, trying to not to cry,” You seemed busy after school, I figured maybe you forgot”. Eddie stares as you for a second with and almost blank expression before leaning in to your neck and whispering “ was my girl a little jealous? “ You hate that he’s asking you if you’re jealous of Chrissy how dare he , ovcourse you were but you wouldn’t help but soak your as he called you “his girl.l” Eddie had always been flirtatious with you but you just consider it his personality and don’t read much into it but today it has your head spinning.” I can’t compete with a girl like that for your attention and I’m sorry I ditched you I guess I overreacted “ You blurt out just loudly enough for Edie to hear. The slightest bit of flirting from Eddie and you were throwing yours elf under the bud admitting my jealousy and childish attitude and I knew I would be in for especially when Eddie said he would be getting a redo on our smoke session tonight and didn’t acknowledge anything else you said.

The rest of the school day flew by and you felt sick to your stomach. You thought about playing the sick card but you knew Eddie wouldn’t buy it. When you exit the school building you spot Eddie leaned cup again his van lighting a cigarette and your heart wants to jump out of your chest and run , You freeze for a moment, suddenly you’re standing face to face with him and wondering how you got to him so fast , and why were you so nervous Eddie’s your friend technically he never acknowledged your comments about “ being jealous of Chrissy”. As far as you knew Robin had not spilled the beans either so this night had to the potential to go normally. “Decided not to stand me up again?” Eddie smirked down at you opening the passenger door for you as you hopped in. “ Well you didn’t have your hands QUITE so full today , I figured you could spare me some time”you replied to Eddie smiling and he buckles you in and hops into the drivers seat. The drive to Eddies trailer park goes by faster than you would have liked and you can hear your heart beat as he’s unlocking his front door for you two. “Wayne’s working tonight so it’s just us” Eddies wasted no time already rolling a blunt for the two of you to share as you leaned agent’s the countertop watching the way his muscles in his forearms flexed as he rolled and ground the bud. You pictured those same arms spreading your legs apart and devouring you. You press your legs tightly together looking for some friction, hoping Eddie doesn’t notice this , but he does.” Let’s smoke this in my room with the windows open, Wayne will kill me if stink up the trailer.” Eddie leads you back to his room and starts opening the windows above his unmaid twin sized bed. His room was a disaster, clothes and towels lined the floor and dressers and nightstands covered with dishes , cigarette butts, beer, food junk nonetheless. All you could really focus on though was the fact that you were now climbing into bed with your Best friend and Crush and you can feel your heartbeat and feel your sweat beading uncomfortably in your hairline. Your faces were dangerously close as he hands you the lit blunt you take a long drag and blow your smoke to the window using the time as an excuse to break eye contacts with Eddie who eyes had just been borrowed into your soul. As you turn back to Ed he’s still staring at you like a man starved. You hand Eddie the blunt and he takes a hit finally taking his eyes off of you and you felt extremely nervous. Eddie takes another drag from the blunt casually placing his hand on your thigh and begins rubbing the skin as he hands you back the blunt. You take a hit closing your eyes preparing yourself for what coming. When you open your eyes Eddie is going in for it. You attach lips kissing briefly before he makes his way to your neck and jaw line . When a soft moan escapes your lips your eyes shoot open out of embarrassment and you hand Eddie the blunt. “That was fucking hot , so responsive for me “ Eddie takes a final drag of the blunt and starts to laugh to himself “ care to share whats so funny Ed’s “ Eddie looked up at you while making his way back to your neck “ I just figured if you’re so jealous I could mark you up let everyone know who you belong too.” You’re internally freaking out “ belong too” you’re not complaining but you guys had always just been friends? Still you couldn’t deny how wet he had you.” Mark me and make me yours “ you say to Eddie between kisses and he wastes no time giving you what you want. Eddy bites and sucks into your neck working on hickey eagerly. Each bite on the sensitive bruise would elicit such sweet moans from you Eddie found himself rutting his hips into yours while you ground against his erection through hi jeans. Eddie reaches under your hips and slides off your skirt,leaving you your tank too and underwear, he rips you panties off with ease. “ Are you staying dressed?” You say almost under your breath due to your embarrassment. Eddie only smiles and begins removing his shirt and jeans and shoes while you slide your tank top off.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #stranger things smut #stranger things

[kelyon]

Dark Mistress 13: Celebration

Belle and Rumple come home

Read on AO3

Belle didn’t breathe while the red smoke of the transportation spell surrounded herself and her spinner. Not until the smoke cleared and the crisp air bit and the bright winter sun shone down on them. Only then did she slacken her rigid posture and spread her arms and raise her face to the endless blue sky. Only then did she breathe. 

Only then did she laugh.

“We did it.” The reality of those words was sweeter than the breaking of a curse. She spun around to face Rumpelstiltskin. “We made it out of there!”

His smile started as tentative, but quickly broadened as he looked at her. Her poor creature stood naked in the clearing, snow up to his knees. He held his arms over his chest. His teeth chattered, his body shook, but his brown eyes never wavered away from her.

“I pleased you, Mistress?”

“Yes.” Belle glided on top of the snow to cradle his face in her hands. He was safe, her beautiful spinner. They hadn’t hurt him. She hadn’t hurt him. She had ordered him to walk into hell--but he had done it willingly and had come back to her unscathed.

She kissed him. 

His face smelled like the sea. Like Ariel. There were traces of Aladdin in him too, of the kisses the two men had shared. She could feel them in his heart. Kissing him more, she felt those remnants fade away. She delved deeper into the depths of Rumpelstiltskin, into his soul, until she found the parts that tasted only of him. The parts that were hers and hers alone.

When they broke apart, she kept her arms around his shoulders. He kept his hands to himself--balled into fists. Despite his desire, he obeyed her wish that he never touch her without permission.

“Good boy,” Belle whispered. She held his cheek.

With a soft smile, he looked up at her. The sunlight caught in his eyes and took her breath away. She was used to thinking of his eyes as merely dark, uniform as two currants in a bun. That was what they looked like when she saw him at night, even in the light of the brightest moon.

Now, in the sun, she saw the truth of his eyes. They were not just brown, but an infinite world of umber and orange and gold. A dozen shades morphed into each other, shifting and changing in the light like jewels. All the different pieces of his eyes fit together perfectly, like an inlaid wooden floor.

Like the library…

The memory came sharp and sudden, an ocean wave that almost knocked her down into the depths. No! Not now! Only a moment ago, she’d been so full of joy! 

Instead of reeling back from the pain, Belle pushed forward. She could hold onto the good feelings, she could grasp them with both hands. Her mind pressed into the horror, as her body lurched toward her spinner. She wrapped her arms around him, grabbing onto him with all her strength. 

The closeness grounded her. His body acted as ballast to weigh down her troubled soul. His steadiness kept her from drowning, kept her from the worst blackness of her mind. It was good--so good--but it wasn’t enough.

“Hold me,” she whispered.

His arms were around her waist before she had finished speaking. He clutched at her, her Rumple, he clung to her. He had done such things before, but only after she had used him. She allowed him intimacy only when he was weak and helpless. 

Was it her turn now? Was she finally weak enough to allow him to care for her? The time under the sea had worn on her--the barbed niceties, the political wrangling, the constant worry in the back of her mind that anything might be a trap. Anything those monsters might do could trip her over the edge of madness. Anything she might do could give them cause to call off the arrangement and unite against her. They couldn’t kill her, but they could try. There was so much suffering that could happen without dying, not to mention what they might do to Rumple. She had walked on the edge of a knife blade and she was so, so tired.

She was always tired and there was never any respite. 

Every moment, she fought against the darkness. She buried herself in ashes so that her existence couldn’t hurt anyone. She watched herself, controlled herself, kept herself from ever letting something like the library ever happen again.

 It had worked. For nearly a hundred years, she had felt nothing, and hurt nothing. Not until this sad little man had promised her he would do anything to save his son. Now she was alive again. Now she cared for someone. What she did and said mattered to him. It was too beautiful and too horrible to bear.

Belle clutched her spinner’s naked skin, trying to keep her claws away. He held her like a lover, rubbing her back and swaying. His deep voice offered a constant stream of assurances as he pressed his head against her bosom. 

For a moment, Belle retreated from her magic. The fabric of her gown pooled against the snow as her feet touched the ground. The Dark One rarely allowed herself to appear at her natural height. But now Belle took comfort in the knowledge that Rumpelstiltskin was taller than her. He was a thin man, her spinner, but his embrace enveloped her. He was weak, but he was strong enough to hold her. 

Their bodies fit together perfectly. Her head nestled in the crook of his neck. He adjusted his arms, and she settled in. The rhythmic woosh of blood in his veins soothed her. Every heartbeat proved he was alive and he would stay alive. Perhaps she could be a living thing too. A monster, always, but maybe not death itself. Not to him. She would never kill him, and he knew it. He trusted her. 

For the first time, she was beginning to trust herself with him.

“I’ll keep you warm.” She waved her hand, enchanting him with protection from the cold. “If you stay like this and hold me.”

“Yes.” His voice was breathy, thick with reverence or some other kind of emotion. “Anything for you, Mistress.”

****

Belle didn’t know how long they stayed together. The sun hung high in the sky, with no clouds to mar the endless blue. In the clearing, everything was still. The only sound was the faint drip of snow melting off the bare tree branches. 

Slowly, her breathing steadied. Her mind calmed. She didn’t cling to Rumpelstiltskin quite as tightly as she had before. She still held on to him, her poor, sweet spinner. But in that moment she didn’t need him. She just wanted him. During the storm of her emotions, he had been a piece of buoyant debris she had latched onto to keep from drowning. Now that the storm had passed, holding him was like lying back on a little rowboat in a pond. She could float, and enjoy the water, and have no fear.

Rumpelstiltskin touched her the whole time. He kept her close to him, as though she were something precious.

“Thank you,” she murmured as she put her hands on his chest. It was a way to keep touching him while they began to separate. Her fingers drifted over his warm skin, his sparse hair. She didn’t look at his face. “You’ll want to go home to your son.”

“I…” He started to speak but didn’t finish. Belle felt his fingers rub back and forth against the cloth of her gown--a nervous, timid gesture. 

“What is it?” 

He kept his eyes downcast. “Well, Mistress, as it happens, I… I told my son I’d be back sometime after dark. He won’t expect me for a few hours yet.”

“Don’t you want to see him before that?”

His lips moved as he tried to speak and words obviously failed him. Belle looked at her spinner. That boy was the most important thing in his world. Wouldn’t he rush to be reunited with him?

“If you wanted,” he tried at last. “If it would please you, that is…”

“What?”

“Use me,” he whispered. He kept his hands on her, but bowed his head. “I would dearly love it if you used me for your pleasure today.”

Belle blinked.   

“O-of course, it is your will,” he went on. “Please tell me if my request was impertinent. I’ll never ask it again if it is any displeasure to you. I--”

“You,” she interrupted him, “want me?”

He nodded.

“This isn’t part of the deal,” she said. “You are only obliged to meet me here at the full and the new moon. Our journey was already more than I had any right to ask of you. You don’t owe me anything.” 

“I know,” he said. “But this isn’t about obligation.” 

Slowly, Rumpelstiltskin raised his hand up from her waist. He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. His touch was so warm, so gentle.

“I…” Belle was just as lost for words as he had been. He wanted this, he was asking for it. It wasn’t an act that he owed her, but it might be one that she owed to him. “I-if you want to, we could linger a while yet.”

“I do,” he whispered. He pressed in, so they were close again. Close enough that their foreheads touched. “I very much want to linger with you, Mistress.”

At the sound of her title, Belle came back to her senses. She straightened her shoulders and made herself tall again. Rumpelstiltskin expected the Dark One to dominate him, not a frightened girl to need him.

“Get on your knees.” 

Her words were soft, but he obeyed them without hesitation. 

“Let me see your pain.”

He arched back, exposing his magic-bound cock. Before they’d left, she had bound him to protect him. Even if the worst happened in Ursula’s palace, Rumpelstiltskin wouldn’t be forced to rape anyone, nor could his own pleasure be used against him.

It had been like this for almost a full day--far from the longest span she’d made him endure, but still a trial. The pain didn’t show on his face or in his manner. He had been through worse before and would be through worse again. Not now, though. Now she could offer her spinner more than pain and bondage. 

“Let me take this.” 

She reached out to the pain. The purple magic uncoiled itself and leapt into her hand like a striking snake. The Dark One grabbed the wriggling pain in her claws and subdued it, forced it to lay still against her skin. A black streak burned into her wrist and palm as the pain found a new home. It stung, but she would not bear it forever. When they were done, she would give it back to Rumpelstiltskin. She would wrap it around his ankle and the balance would be restored. 

She shook her hand to get some feeling back into it. Then she began to circle her spinner. On his knees, the snow was now up to his waist, but he wasn’t suffering. She had made sure of that. There would be no suffering today. Not in the light of the sun. 

“I want to do something different today,” Belle said softly as she glided on top of the snow. “I want to thank you, for your… exemplary service.”

A smile played on her spinner’s lips. “I am glad to serve you, Mistress.”

“You served me well,” she said. “I knew you would. I had no doubt that you would give Ariel all the attention and devotion she would ever require. I suspected you would get along well with Aladdin, though you surprised me with how well you treated him.”

Rumpelstiltskin swallowed, but said nothing. Belle lifted his head up, used one hand to hold him by the chin. She forced him to look into her eyes. 

“You put your mouth on Ariel,” she said. “If there had been a chance, would you have put your mouth on Aladdin?”

His brows furrowed, but he didn’t try to escape her gaze. “I would have, Mistress. If I thought he needed it.”

A hot tremor went through her at those words. How perverse she was, how unnatural. No sane woman would accept such a declaration from her lover. But she not only accepted it, it thrilled her.

“Have you ever sucked another man’s cock?”

“No.”

“Have you wanted to?”

There was silence for less than a moment, then Rumpelstiltskin said, “Yes.”

The tremor became a gentle  wave of rolling desire. Belle was aware of the wetness as it coated her cunt and began to drip out. Oh! If only her spinner could feel what she was feeling!

She stepped back, away from Rumpelstiltskin. The solution presented itself fully-formed in her head, a thought that took her breath away. She paced around the clearing, calculating the magic involved. Yes, it was possible. It wasn’t even that dangerous, not if she did it right. The spells would be tricky, but she could do it. Then they could…

They could…

“Lie back,” she ordered as she strode to Rumpelstiltskin. “Is your cock hard?”

“Yes, Mistress.” 

So it was, jutting up eagerly from his body as he flattened himself in the snow. 

“Good.”

Without another word, she vanished her gown and got on her knees over Rumpelstiltskin. She straddled his legs and slid down onto him in a fluid motion that made them both gasp.

“Gods!” He slammed his fists down into the snow. Jaw clenched, eyes squeezed shut, his breath came in shallow pants. Her spinner felt how wet she was. He knew how much she wanted him.  

Belle forced herself to start slowly. She stayed still at first, with him fully sheathed inside her. He was hot and hard and perfect. She clenched around him, savoring the moment, memorizing the feeling. She twisted her hips from side to side, enjoying how he filled her from every angle. His heart thudded in his chest and she felt his cock pulsing. Deep, slow thrusts. She rocked into him and felt every inch of their connection. 

“Do you want me to tell you what I’m going to do to you? Or do you want a surprise?”

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head, overcome with sensation. “Whatever you want, Mistress. I’m yours.”

Smiling, she leaned over him to kiss his mouth. “I think I will surprise you,” she said. “I think you’ll like what I have planned.”

“I will,” he breathed. “No matter what it is, if it is your will, I’ll love it.”

She kissed him again, then raised herself up. For a moment, they remained connected. Then the Dark One summoned her magic, and pushed down onto him with a final, crushing thrust. She drew back, and sat on her heels over him. They were close, but separate. Two bodies instead of one. 

Between Rumpelstiltskin’s legs was a smooth expanse of skin, blank as parchment. His cock remained nestled firmly in Belle’s cunt. 

Eyes wide, he gaped and tried to sit up. Belle held him down with a gentle push of magic.

“Don’t be afraid, my Rumple. This is going to be so good, for both of us.”

Panic flooded his spirit, but there was no true fear. He did trust her, her beautiful spinner, even when he didn’t understand. 

With a deep breath, the Dark One gathered her magic again. She took in the dead snow around them, the killing cold, the shadows that existed even in the day--shadows that the sunlight only made darker by its brightness. She took in her deal with the spinner, his vow that he would do anything, and the magic that promise had paid for. He belonged to her. His body could be anything she wanted it to be. Belle took in the erotic power of this moment, the desire of her flesh as well as her spinner’s. There was magic in the meeting of all bodies, magic in the coming together of disparate parts to create an experience of joy and passion and love.

The magic centered itself in her core--a spiky tingle distinct from any natural sensation. It kept Rumpelstiltskin’s cock alive and pulsing inside her. If she wanted to, she could take it out, hold it in her hands, and move it in and out to pleasure herself. She could make her spinner watch while she used his own cock to satisfy her needs and allow him nothing in return.

But that wasn’t what she wanted. Instead, Belle lowered herself as she had before, straddling where Rumpelstiltskin’s cock was supposed to be. His hands shook, and his eyes were wide, but he stayed where she had set him. He didn’t fight her ownership. 

He trusted her.

Belle took a breath. Then she thrust forward and made their bodies one again. The sensations were different this time. The liquid, molten pleasure was around her now. Her own enjoyment was a heavy, solid thing. It felt like it was outside her body, something that took over her and made her more. 

She pushed into Rumpelstiltskin, slow and strong. Every inch of her explored every inch of him.

“Can you feel it?” Her lips brushed against his collarbone. “Do you know yet, what I’ve done to you?”

“Something good,” he panted. “Something--oh fuck!”

He shuddered and shook against her. His hips bucked upward, searching for friction. Belle ground against him, trying to provide what he needed. He rubbed against her, faster and faster. She felt him clenching, reaching with all his might for something he’d never had before, something he didn’t even know he was capable of. She kept her body rigid, let him find his own way. He thrust and bucked against her, erratic and graceless, a desperate frenzy.

“Take it,” she whispered into his ear. “You’re so close, Rumple, just let it happen.” 

With gasping, stifled cries, Rumpelstiltskin stiffened. His whole body tensed and jerked--again and again as wave after wave of pleasure overtook him. Belle held him down and let him ride them out.

There was no one moment of final climax. Only a point when he could take no more, so it had to subside. The waves grew smaller, and further apart. Belle felt them all as he clenched against her. She stayed on top of him, their bodies still joined. She wiped the sweat from his brow, kissed drops of saliva from his lips. The whole of his body was hot and wet and happy.

“What…” he breathed. “What was that, Mistress?”

She smiled. “You don’t recognize it, my spinner? You’ve witnessed it often enough. Been the cause of it on more occasions than I care to count.”

He looked up at her with bleary, unfocused eyes. “What?”

She kissed his forehead and scooped him up into her arms. She sat him upright in the snow, straddling her lap. He had to spread his legs wide to accommodate her.

“A moment ago, you said that you had never sucked a cock, but you wanted to. Do I recall correctly?” 

Rumpelstiltskin’s nod was slow and loose. It looked less like he was unsure of his agreement, and more that he was unsure of the movement of his own head.

Belle slipped out of him and stood up. Her cock was at a level with his mouth.

“Would you like to?”

For a long moment, all Rumpelstiltskin could do was blink. His gaze went back and forth between her body and his own. He looked between his legs, at the mound of white flesh and wiry black hair. He looked up at her, at the erect, tan-colored cock attached to Belle. Did he recognize it as his own, grafted onto her body? He might not, he had never seen it from this angle. 

Slowly, with dawning realization, he raised his hand off the ground and placed it over his cunt.

“Oh!” he breathed. It was the same tone of amazement and joy that he used whenever he found her soaking wet. Only now he was finding himself in that state. He slid two fingers into his wetness and pulled out a glob of thick, dark fluid.

“I apologize that I can’t give you the cunt of a human woman,” the Dark One said airily. “But this is almost the same thing.” 

“That orgasm.” His eyes went wide. “Is that what you feel every time?”

Belle smiled. If nothing else came of this, at least she had given him that. “Not every time, there are different qualities of pleasure. But that seemed to be a very good one for you.”

“I never…” He shook his head. “Why do women ever do anything besides pleasure themselves?”

She laughed. “Maybe that’s why men work them so hard. They’re far too busy to indulge.” Leisurely, she stroked her cock, fondled her balls with her other hand. “This isn’t too bad either.”

He let out a breathless chuckle. “Oh, Mistress,” he sighed.

She brushed back his hair, petting him tenderly. “Do you want to suck my cock, Rumpelstiltskin?”

“I--Yes. If it pleases you.”

She held his cheeks in both hands. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want it, you silly man.”

“Then please,” he licked his lips. “Please let me pleasure you.”

With her cock in one hand and his head in the other, she guided the two to meet. Rumpelstiltskin kissed the head of his own shaft. Looking up at her, he licked the fluid of his cunt off of her cock. 

“Mmm,” Belle sighed. “What a perfect little slut you are, Rumple. You want me no matter what body I’m in. Or do you just want to be fucked and you don’t care who--or what--does it?”

She pulled him back by his hair so he knew to answer her.

“It’s you, Mistress,” he panted. “Only you. I will fuck anyone, but no one means more to me than you.”

She pushed him into her groin, sidestepping her cock and rubbing his face against her balls. He kissed them delicately, licked them and sucked on them.

“Is that what you like?” she asked. “Do you want me to do that to you?”

He shuddered and let out a muffled keen. “Yes,” he rasped. “Oh, gods, yes!”

Of his own volition, he went back to the shaft. He wrapped his lips around it and ran his tongue over the head. The heat of his mouth spread up through Belle’s cock until it invaded her body and bloomed out into a moan.

“Oh!” 

Swept up in the pleasure, she reached down and held his head. Her hips rocked, shallow and rapid, and all she wanted was more. She pulled him closer, thrusting her cock into his mouth. She didn’t let go until he began to choke and gag. 

Of course, her spinner was untrained. He had never done this before. The Dark One had possessed a hundred cocks over the ages and she had a thousand memories of forcing men and women to suck them down. Belle couldn’t do that to Rumpelstiltskin. With practice, he could be ready to have his throat fucked. But not yet. 

There was more she wanted from his transformed body. 

“So good,” she murmured. She stroked his hair, held him against her hip while he caught his breath. “My lovely spinner. I think you deserve to come again.” 

His brown eyes were black with desire, the pupils wide even in the sunlight. “Oh Mistress,” he whispered. “Oh, thank you.”

She laid him down again, spread his legs in the snow. His blue-black cunt glistened with want. Belle swallowed down her disgust at what her curse had done to what had once been the body of a human woman. She had made the sacrifice--and made it willingly--but it would never be pleasant to look at.

Thank the gods that she could give Rumpelstiltskin all the joys of this body and none of the horrors. Thank the gods that this would be temporary, that they would be restored to their former states once it was all done. The dark magic wouldn’t change him permanently, as it had changed her so long ago. He was safe, her spinner. She would give him only good things.

She slid her fingers into him, mindful of her claws. She spread his folds and offered light, teasing touches to his lower lips. He shivered and whined and she plunged her knuckles in hard. Rumpelstiltskin moaned and began to clench around her hand.

“I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.”

With the majority of her hand inside his cunt, she grazed his clitoris with her thumb. He gasped and jerked, almost rolled away from the touch. 

“It can be overpowering,” she smiled. 

Her thumb circled around the bud, not touching it directly. She remembered the first fumbling nights with her husband, in the darkness where she could see him but he couldn’t see her. She had tried to teach him that touching her would make the marital duty easier for both of them. Gaston had given his best effort, but it wasn’t easy for him to be gentle.

Below her, Rumpelstiltskin moaned in sweet relief. The sound made her cock even harder. She leaned down to whisper in his ear.

 “Do you want to come, sweet spinner? Do you want me to make you come?”

“Yes!” he breathed. “Fuck, yes! Please, Mistress!”

“Such a polite boy,” she purred. “Such a lovely boy with such a hungry cunt.”

He let out a high sound of mindless agreement. Her spinner was a clever man, but he was in no state to think. He was just a body now, desperate for satisfaction with no will for anything else.

He was beautiful. 

Belle set her fingers to work. A quick dip down to pick up some wetness, then up on the clitoris to spread that wetness around. She slid and slipped over his folds, her movements getting faster and faster to match his breathing. This peak was higher than the orgasm she’d allowed him to have earlier. A higher peak with a faster fall. 

He came with a sound that wasn’t human. A cry both high and low, both animal and celestial. It was all the pleasure in all the world from every source combined into one man. Rumpelstiltskin became a vessel, an outlet for some otherworldly spirit of lust that could only be sated by total submission. 

He was still going when Belle thrust into him. He clenched around her, clamping onto her cock like it was a lifeline. She pushed, again and again, in a rhythm that both echoed his and resonated with it. Together, they made something greater than either of them could do alone.

At first, Belle kept a rapid pace to match his passion. As he calmed down, so did she. Her thrusts became deeper, slower. Laying back, Rumpelstiltskin caught his breath. He looked up at her like she was life itself. His lips moved, he whispered something even she couldn’t hear.

She kissed him. She understood. She would never be able to say it, and she would never want to hear it, but she understood what he was trying to tell her.

“This feels so good,” she whispered. Their lips broke apart but their bodies remained joined. “Is this what men love about women?”  

“There are so many things to love about women.” His answer was a series of broken gasps. “That can’t be all of it. Perhaps this is what women love about men.”

She shook her head. “No. No, I never loved a man for doing this to me--not only this, at least.” Pushing in to Rumpelstiltskin, Belle pushed away thoughts of anyone else. Gaston was dead, the Dark One didn’t matter. She was here. She was with him. He felt so good.     

“Are you making it bigger?”

“What?” 

“My cock--your cock, whatever--did you enchant it to make it more pleasing?”

“Hah!” The laugh blended in with her heavy breaths. “No, sweet boy. I’ve left you as I found you, no magic required.”

“So--so it always feels like this? Is this how I make you feel?”

Nodding, Belle began her final thrusts. “That was the whole idea, my thing. That is your reward. You deserve to feel how good you make me feel. You deserve to know… how much… I--”

Her orgasm cut off her words. She came inside him and it was like every orgasm she’d ever had in her long life all happened at the same time. There was no wave, no arc to this culmination. It was a flash, a bolt of lightning: The pleasure was there. It consumed every fiber of her being. And then--too soon--it was gone. 

Suddenly, Belle was exhausted, in a way that fucking had never tired her before. Rolling off of his body, she saw streaks of white semen coating his blue-black flesh. Her flaccid cock was tender to the touch. 

She collapsed onto the snow and caught her breath. So much between them had changed today. So much would never be the same. Belle had given Rumpelstiltskin a part of her secret self, a part of her black and frozen heart. Part of her belonged to him now, as surely as all of him belonged to her. She would never get it back.

Her last act before she closed her eyes was to undo the spell. She restored their bodies, then stretched out in the winter sun. Rumpelstiltskin curled up next to her. She opened her arms for him, and they lay together in a sated embrace

****

 When Belle opened her eyes, the sky was dark. One end of the horizon was a vibrant purple, the other its own rainbow of reds and oranges and yellows. Rumpelstiltskin was asleep by her side.

“It’s sunset.” She jostled his shoulder to wake him. “You cannot say that your son isn’t expecting you home by now.”

Her spinner rubbed his eyes and sat up groggily. He took a handful of snow and rubbed it into his face to wake himself up. Something about that made Belle smile. Perhaps it was just knowing that the charm she had cast on him still worked. The cold was causing him no trouble. 

Rumpelstiltskin looked around the clearing. “My clothes…”

Snow covered the dead tree stump where he had left his clothes before their journey. With a wave, Belle summoned the garments. A flick of her fingers and the snow was gone. They would be warm for Rumpelstiltskin, and perhaps a little sturdier than they had been when he’d taken them off. 

“Thank you, Mistress,” he said when the clothes floated to him and landed in his hands. 

“Wait,” she ordered before he began to dress. “I must return your pain to you.”

“Oh,” he said. He went to the stump where his clothes had been and picked his staff out of the snow. “Yes, I almost forgot.”

“You must never forget the price of magic, my spinner.” 

Belle opened her hand. Rumpelstiltskin’s pain lay on the surface of her skin, black as a leech against her whiteness. She placed the pain in his ankle, where it had come from. It returned to what it had been--silver-pink scars that deformed his foot, the natural result of an injury he had done to himself years ago.

Her Rumple winced. His fingers gripped around his staff as he shifted his weight, remembering how to have only one good foot again.

She almost regretted that she had to do it. But this pain could not be destroyed, only moved from one place to another. In order to take it from Rumpelstiltskin forever, she would have to give it to someone else, and he wouldn’t want that. Her spinner was too kindhearted to want another person to suffer for his benefit.

She robed herself in a gown made of night. They stood facing each other, some distance apart. Fully dressed, they looked for all appearances ready to go their separate ways.

“Do you want--”

“When will we--”

They began and stopped at the same time. Rumpelstiltskin looked at the ground. Belle took that as an invitation for her to speak first. “We will meet at the new moon, as usual.”

“Yes.” There was the ghost of a smile on Rumpelstiltskin’s face. “It won’t be so long this time. The wait, I mean.”

Belle let his words fill her heart. The wait. He waited for her. He looked forward to seeing her at the new and full moon. He thought it was a long time.

His silent wince interrupted her reverie.

“Your ankle,” she said. “The cold makes it worse, didn’t you say that?”

“I did.” He tried to shake his foot, as if that would help. “It does.”

She held out her hand. “Let me spare you the walk down the hill, at least.”

He took it, and nodded his gratitude. 

The red smoke swirled around them. When it cleared, they were on Rumpelstiltskin’s land. It was a humble place for a humble man: A ramshackle cottage, with an even more dilapidated barn nearby. Belle felt the lives of the animals in the barn--sheep and chickens and barn cats, not fat but well cared for. In the cottage, a boy and his dog sat before a cheery fire. 

They had arrived outside, in the cold, near a dead garden. Her spinner had to go inside--into the warmth and the love of his son. She had to let him go. And yet, for a moment, neither of them released the other’s hand.

“Thank you,” he said at last.

“It was nothing.” She looked down at the ground. The path between the cottage and the barn was cleared of snow. The mud had frozen solid but there was no ice. He could make his way inside easily. There was nothing left for her to do.

She began to leave. “I will see you again.”

“Wait!” 

Rumpelstiltskin’s cry pierced the darkness. He stood with his hand outstretched, reaching for her.

Belle turned toward him. A lump in her throat choked her words, but she managed to croak: “What is it?”

“Would--” His fingers fidgeted around his staff. He didn’t look at her. “Would you--like to come in? For dinner or tea? To rest before you go wherever you’re going next?”

“Your son is in there.” It was the first thought that entered her mind, the only reason she couldn’t go with him and stay with him for as long as he could bear her presence. “Do you want him to see me, Rumpelstiltskin?”

“I--”

Of course he didn’t. He wasn’t a madman. Once, he had been desperate enough to call the Dark One to save his son. Since then he had been brave enough to honor his deal with her, and perhaps perverse enough to like it. But no parent would risk their child’s life by inviting her into the place where they slept. Loving parents did everything they could to ward off evil creatures like her. They hung blue stars around a baby’s cradle to welcome good magic and repel the bad. Rumpelstiltskin loved his son, he needed to protect him.

He didn’t mean it. He misspoke. And she was gracious enough not to hold him to his foolishness. 

But then Rumpelstiltskin repeated his offer. 

“I only meant,” he said, “that my home is open to you. Whatever you would ask of me, whenever you would call on me--I am yours.”

Lips pressed together, Belle nodded. “I thank you for the offer, Rumpelstiltskin. But I warn you to take care with your invitations.”

“I meant it, Mistress. I will welcome you, whenever you ask for whatever hospitality I can give.”

Three times. He invited her into his house three times. There was no way to avoid it now.

“You are sweet, my Rumple. Do you know that you have given me free reign over your home and lands?”

To her surprise, he smiled. “Perhaps, sometime when Bae is away at a friend’s house...”

She didn’t speak. Her mouth was too busy trying not to smile. She floated over to her spinner and kissed him on the forehead, before she faded into the night. 

#dark Mistress #rumbelle #rumbelle fic

[bestandhow2s]

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#best friends #how to

[libidomechanica]

“Her hairs and riding at time to a”

A sonnet sequence

               I

Lover’s woe. Her hairs and riding at time to a spirit in the longest day—when gardens fine! The boys and girls gave guessed never a hall suffer. The Caspian could feel the many mountain-tops, seas where Fount of Justice, confounds the painting of all those black cold, great priority, who bids all men and women takes the bride-maidens whisper often come back. Mistake it furre: it is built in the sky not for ever there was mine, the locks, above his time. He reach’d his eyes strain’d the haunt beloved desires, of forest thy Saviour be; but view his host three talent, English money.

               II

Of Joy—to Forty of them in a singled love first released from head to feele this, to challenge me then, as the mode be persiflage or humor with bulrush and wait the preceding twigs spread. Yet, Thyrsis, let me show you are fully please: kissing and me, and a lustre in its bad for Bion’s fate; and the bird that trampled pair, and even thee to be sure. You are a loved one, but once we are! My father moved through the vow? That it was awful. Call her once adieu; nor dare I chide the bed. Its smell and communion! Grassy harvest of heavenly ignorance of what is Woman?

               III

He shut the sad mishap—but with a grasp of thanks in a half-empty cup, nails rusting in the Garden of my House, lights to peep, to gaze thereby, the morrow was as independence, as clear, as deep a dye as they my payne to see how with a groan, more sharp surprise, and kept, and just such a pernicious acceptable audit canst not be foes. Upon their rounds, and thine earth with your lovely to-night, yet, I will give thyself dost give my grief does keep? But yet, thought she could be much more—that will dare e’en death, my dear, was not be solved. The ocean’s tides seaward from heaven’s glory on thee.

               IV

Ah, my Anthea! Work. If Orpheus, from its suppose, but, like a little space saints will come in that like this poachers; the most. In May. Yet, love knows why nothing may we use in your Bosom she lies for eyes, even to shun sicknesse lay; but feeling to Us, nor an Eye to wayle my woe, plods dully on, there next to us, some horses foam and from here on the playne fields, she needs must kisse. Go thereon,—but then his dread grew wrath, and he arose, and yet it can’t shake themselves reap glory and real the World—no Road to refer to. Red by nature calls your virtue now I haue learns.

               V

The pane I know not thy Heart’s endeavour: frail spells did bind to fear they’d love and see how it weeps! Father and recall those deny who wish to take the poor priest wast bound; thou canst pour from the heart. But since he had been oft perceiving nought of beautifully more and more, hey ho Perigot so well, when that spends her time befalls me wandering singer would be obsolete. Set; and in air the promises to all—which he of God to reason armed, o eyes, nor heart, you’ll have given you turn around just for once and voices. Joy was his Dominion crumbles at the smooth which than hate’s known ye.

               VI

Each rose with golden skies. Strays! Through which hides the day I die, the lawn, the source for me, o wrang na my virgins do, cast on the leaves no step had trodden black is fairest and more of my soul was a flowered spreading the pleas, the hill I saw them ride, in a modest Eulalie became thee powers, in happy. Even then if I grow jealous woods above, can only amend the breezy air; and I am glad, yea, glad with a doubt; and went through a lighthouse beam had cross into your eyes have flee, and can with a moonlight, as he, the lass made the bed. And when people have been bred by both.

               VII

Should fail. Thus, thus to be the honey of yours, surmounts them to sound; and quite away, ’twould be something red by nature’s. God said to the Indians scorched with great election. Maybe it’s too late i have to take me, the after-comming harme did not rain’d; then took delight, yet dare I not keep, When look’d up the blossom of bloom go I! Injurious distant spot, upon her cheeks, whichever way one travel’s end, doth will do nothing utter’d; the Crown drought. Telling your mom did not sleep; the raging sea! Be it not.—The bonie castles, torches the great vehemence, more strong, as all for Nothing.

               VIII

Then my black it is, how fast renneth this use wert built and conquerings. Bid me despaire, and thou art gone! Shines, bright-eyed Eulalie’s most happy. Not if you but though sometimes faintly flush’d—and always be seen glimmering like it. Regretted he had been fair-haired. So much more, but you in a yellow meadow, but no young days, either of ours, take back these: nothing of eyelashes before, a house alone; yet could not but express by those lips; my body, but even our own. Its fir-topped Hurst, its far remote descending a Staircase or at a rehearse? And her lips are how have I wonne.

               IX

Through the grassy harvest of day: these two crystal shell, yet lost ere those roses do not give it stood, we said, and curtsying offering … I burn, or flax; an equal light we sought; nor could to where Time’s remorse or ruth; at speaking others might do in a moments when we have souls, at one stroke, may do and does he grow these words, thoughts which throbbings, will stay, and scent of people are having worlds would come and i would be. Glad i’m happy, country circle weaves rainbows o’er yon mountain ranges and promised: he thoughts to peep, to gaze on my hair, already in our bed to medle sadde. Sought from a shelf.

               X

I am on the mountain’s brow, and Years in love, and death’s the cold, but cast not vex me with us perpetual night before, but served prosperity, and is not in smiling roguish een. My should, that I would be i’d toss life yonder like a Sun. With so much the clouds departing cry, from death should never can be anything, and his chocolate, as the mind stinging down her vengeance overwhelming son of heart. He was racing against a disease, viewed from Gods mouth. Violent and relax Pluto’s brow, and from there greene saye, that will steal thyself go down on your songs to interfuse?

               XI

Like the Board, i’m queen all my lassie, O. As in the midnight and straught was soon as this palenesse to reproved. And even in death! To name a third, were better just Káfir than spurring to doe at all with the honey of yours, but very few financiers, nor could make worms that made love to another place of youth, which he call’d her face, one unbecoming and dauncing, soothing, this is the poor rude lines of low taxation. And Priests in currency like gold, once, in some Corner of Music mute, begins to drink the billow’s roar, for her examination. What I’m sure I do.

               XII

But seeing eye bears afar our bubbles; as they, but the Darling one another’s bosom bears, on which in my ear. The weak one is singing still. Her bosom’s like swine or others, who says she did spill: I saw them night into the charged; yet the loss, or that to make our appetites more to be with honour, had brought in thee, let me show you how, hand on my horse, a horse eases up and we rose looks o’er Siberia’s shoreward blow, now the Fyfield tree, where thine shall I marry the bed a page beneath a hole in the world, and so dauntless in war, or to coarsely stopped, menaced, the Throne.

               XIII

Nor beasts nor birds do come through depths of her face, Unconstant wing as summer’s breast will, to sing by the parents taught only think, or act, or thou art, as that modulated cantana of the dull a spur in one speech two negatiues affirme! Sage’s sanction; till so hye, hey ho pinching payne, or tell you rehearse, in equal arming me from what confusion be at home I never stop loving finger, singing diamonds not if you paid me in diamond watercress so fine to suck all the whole is greete, and his song when I’m old, okay? Two roads diverged in a careless; but to tell.

               XIV

Until their office; yet now illustrate the holy perfumes then go, and sister- tunes from the height of strain, the lass gang. Under why in the graves of empire be a symphony&in a moment the night win or hold a love of higher he’s seen in threshing-time does show; so children of Illusion went: methinks no ill. Fluorescent orange shirt you look like a Taper of the offices in nature’s own head; two, I’m sometimes faintly flush’d—and always my silken twist; But sincerity was obvious in each like feeling what purple orchises, hath filled in by missing.

               XV

And the lute is bright, save what is call; believed to wow me and through the casket of my woe, plods dully on, the spring, whom several stations, expectant of the dull substance lies for all men’s days must make play. At first ill-sounding a Staircase or at a rehearsal a single hobgoblin’s nonentity should fail and bask in the way appear: thus seasons, and he doth but approved by growin’ yet. It is the thrown into animation new, and make worms that something, this unholy battle I grow bright in one speech. I water wrought the circle much at ease my trouble you?

               XVI

— This was not Wisdom in Himself in me. We sicken to save you explored the blue eyes glared, that they say love they can’t shake their change shirt you love me now. And only thine eyes. It is not said a word! But as Lord and fause the cold strange? I think that you do any thing, all make the world and still, that Indians scorched with gems—the monk is lord by day, or thrice pass’d to Night, that I do Stellas heart. She has twa sparkling rosy little plum is what yours years departing forth eternal numbers to the milk of heaven’s swell; all creatures&above the lesson misse, when the lake: and made are gone.

               XVII

And yet, writing of eyelashes dropt Blood— his Sighs stood and water, there nis sike a shipwreck, like small plan of interest’ meaning the goddess of my ninetieth year, I felt the puppet of a doubt; or like the drive to Church his prayers, but all words but Room for Death nor atom that you can her observe, I tell my students, describe her smile’s a gift frae ’boon the strain’d the goblin bee that will love had spared; the full board, how to hand their own! The dark cloud kissed, and the theme just such excellence, is gone, and showers, for love the fine, needle-like he struggle grow these my night; an’ she had laide.

               XVIII

And from its suppose thy gifts sometimes a liar—tells an odd story, of which doth in it liv’d long the invisible cord. And so I spare it: come in to fill each pow’r of mind; I did look, sharp surprise now, sun, at our entreat one unbecoming at my fault if you but design to jest, you’llchoose some better days; the country gentle leaves they were garden-walks and ages hence: two roads diverged in the latter merits every single shade retreats from a dunce. If many worlds would look farther—it might be too much, yet ’tis your tattoo: I want, I took my way; for her eye, yet knows.

               XIX

To make away down the neat lines of the Matin-bell, and lo, it is like: and discern my Lady in a distance this waxed tame, while I have had so sweet time to be gone. Thou was petrified; he had made his very neckcloth’s Gordian of the tide I had to say; then by degrees recall those whose little twist on its throbb’d, alas! When the tribe of my woe, plods dully on, the sunset, which rusts aristocratic hinges. And Thou whose lighter eyes glared, cast on the world, that hath no great; his body thro’ all time. Which, if it had not hide be in oil of roses grew. By insistent be an empire be a symphony& in a moments when she approach of shepherd-pipes, coarse effortlessly brought, to gaze on her name of an aik, bonie and blythe be thy love retains hand on the most classical and pushing, healthful statesmen are as sudden, thy spells whose Augury should be.

               XX

And, streak of day, light of beard to exist, save those scarlet Iudges, thretning bloudie paine. So boldly he enter’d that after having read a paragraph, I think his valet, whose Augury triumphall car, her fault, though once should’st have no pretend to government— he held, that hundred more: nor could to where is no changes, sustains, dissolves, create you in worth than to make love groan: to say what is clever; most orators, but silent than all Reanimated, spirits, and fastner of mortal work his shepeheards ioye, how I admire ech turning, when his gifts might cost both my younglings miswent?

               XXI

And thus we transfixed! I feel her finger like a sudden spark struck a wound me to his hand. In this light, like Orpheus voyce had I been there is their brilliant lucubrations. Stand the blossom’d trees nor stone, he wends unfold, coin’d from the devil may take off shoes. Newly as from running for that. Had it liv’d long to might cost both which, used, lives th’ executioner of delight. Field, each stick; and what thou abuse the bride with beauty is suspect, a crow that show us to our Eyes; a Cataract that I could you said. Reap glory on that day. I understand against female charmed!

               XXII

His sorrow, but it’s not heard of the friend to the Throne. That fall so sure are this morning- glory had bloomed in her, ere she could have laid an article the streets, wherefore Juan now began to play thy prayers, I said too much my heart to giue my tongue and Ioues strange she started; and limits of twilight water-gnats, we track’d the charmers, who, as an enjoyer and better to be gone and shall be cut in marble stane, the lang night and saw what will dare e’en death, and innocent blood and when we raise, where you can dare an effort mair than a mile, more than has been fair-haired. Would have been crying.

               XXIII

Though thou hast pleasure of moss look surprise on one another’s neck, do witnesse of that day. His spectacles and sheets, I love, and he did me in that thus her eyes were tired and ploughman, poachers call freedom a drug that’s hope hope hope on my cheek lie there began to awaken with shifting chamber well tied in the past and sound of storms rock thee as the floods and the sweet tones are listless on the world anyone ever think about thy wrist, heaven’s gloried in this horse, and tuneless curl. Where are soon forgot. But his holy Life, have power, if men esteem’d to evaporate.

               XXIV

And whether it ought art nourishment. How sometimes anger was knight to think of nought to him be the house by the Arab woke at morning the first for Ever! With no special legend or God to reach us, nor heart, and keep themselves. ’ And quavering from a glance lilies dipt in winter night, alone, I make a frame be gilt, who sayes nay? So in a voice, so in a voice tells me when Dorian water wroughten mazer alone. To talk to you. The wretch looks are like name of God to bless itself to me for me are window—and the pure Sugar with grey; I feel his pulse each simple.

               XXV

Room fills the room: the vase between us? Too rare, too, in general roar of the Well of Life—one little rabbit with a groan, which were tired thy throat and also had a morning skies? And shalt thou abuse the bride with pyping and glancing, soothing, all made better now the comforting the least had done: where you are a sparrows’ fray I love thee—in thy lip, eye, and with a joint overturning markes engraue in my mind; growne now his slander’s mark was ever yet the chaste orb shone as clear falls the rest broke the others reap it; but though seeming son of thine heights of re-election. A heart?

               XXVI

Else, we see beside, and night did me afright; but Thyrsis, still our vows, and the underground, who wondering way, left human break and smutty jest, through an interstice could make love to those shriek’d, and faces in nature called Hope Lake where whoso falls short of strength, thy golden foot of May is on the distance the deluge from bed. So boldly he enter’d the youngest he wantonly when the light than the shimmer on high; their aspects stern, as if it were, seemed as if painted with all things, to draw the boys and hours, but with mery thing, nor in the fault much to life Thou might come her smiles bespeak and are not rest. She smiled, she wither’d ere you grew scarce man can the shadow fell on me, as in old days I withdrew, but it is like the priefe. The Sunnebeame so bright, so loue into the distant mountain-river, why aught them they might be tomb’d with a strange tradition; but if once would sleep.

               XXVII

Not if you but you know’st to me ’twould stay, and it will live in a golden prime! Children, at midnight was all transition and everybody knows such destruction and women living and short-hand pens imbibed the light, her dear, let us away; his altars kept from my heart, you look living and cruel is she! The Treasure: but the first? With eager compounds we ourselves—’t was its realms of sand, and now lapsed in such thorns and kiss’d her wallet to her with you the friar still break all that there was no opiate, slumber when garden is adorning: as they are, know not the rose, advanced.

               XXVIII

Young Daphnis with Rose; oh do not love is this all I own So are you can. Wandering the plane is making truth to light of such as Albion old was wonder the hustings—some slight defect, for slander’s market on display? Him leye. Sweet, it was no great resources have tied to me, i’ll ne’er she cool’d in her am grieved my heart to that holy strife, I know; a Kate, a Francis call’d up for he is resty race renew’d in him some so late. That love unto the younger brothers not entire continuance. When clean, the fatigue was grassy and with the effort was not again.

               XXIX

Such gloom, why man has its realms of saddest words and for Perigot so well, when others bounty, and dry down scattered the light he see them achieve the long alone? Name. Your sisters and we should be wroth to state this, and very mirror of the Matin- bell, and so right, while he leant from thence into words? Were for you but death do, if thou wouldst give it is winter-eve is wand’ring and oath and streamlets flow, i’ll ne’er retreats from Gods mouth. Those who tuned the Parrot— or in Sport paraded with snow. If eagle fierce could feed until my tears, badges of evening, he three, judging by gladly?

               XXX

No one knows, it is a woe; our roundelay. Sapphire—love enduring, give or dead? And looking with their dead black save in visions of our brows that Arm in Arm from Head to head. Of sweet self did make a show, as then, how you can tell me where together could to where a serpent to the glen sae bushy, O! Or Paradise, forgetful of miles are for a laggard in was ill but being made her shall see, how in a little wilderness. Crystal tears, distills your truth. One after-comming harme did not reason, owe, like skaters on a strangled her. You suddenly a hare ran across the usual burden of that dost consecrate or so did he see the Lityerses-song again appeare; our Mother death to give back to eyes this much bending from that you do any thing, all made of everything.—All you’ve told me by the Black Friar, the night, and this roundelay.

               XXXI

And wind through the billow’s nook, this face: hope. The bedroom with a differ a dish of tears, still curious doings, about to flight, he still, It is as if a mightier arm could I do but tend upon the sunset flames which similitudes can show where Time’s love! That thus her heart, but the creeks we will hie, over banks unseen strikes, how have I drunk of Siren tears are one. Was weak enough of Madam, and his chamber, where she said, and dinna sae uncivil be; gif ye hae ony luve for you to the heart as sound and water, therewith my eyes of a fascinating kind.

               XXXII

To lose this his love enduring, give this way, this thy praise, ’ so wont to say; the sun slow at his Anguish. Of mischievous enjoyment; and also hearts, I thought kills me wanderedst with the morning to circumspect, and, to salute her with her richest dye, flames o’er the constellations and tuneless curl. We find our tree-topp’d hill! For air looked for crime. Lovely Davies. Not in innocent blood and wane in life’s morning dawn, when will the way, have paid for immorality than those bonds which is eight-sided, like he struggled, and brother, show off— to please their secret was it yesterday?

               XXXIII

I held most difficult to say that pair became his form, as, though it was before him smile. The devil may there was enclosed with a cry. Taught a fawn to her cheek, while I have thine shall I search, sun, and find the green, and worst times still in Juan’s candlesticks burned high, while others could not be, but this go. But, for the pure Sugar with her fill, singing thing was getting aromatic fumes, an amatory banqueteers had driven, there; but renewed their own, of which she smile of Aurora Raby with courtesie; I bow’d fu’ low unto the others tender eye; what will be, yet, happy bands!

               XXXIV

But still retains hand on my hart roote: it was fool’d, a case that there is no noisier. Then bedde, or am I borne a slaue, who for love inevitable Outside the eyes of a few poor household spies, or his easier ears beguiles my heart, you look like a better days; they their tresses near; so light we slept, since my love, the solemn hood. Will rock thee, sweet voice cease to dominate with blushing face; she made the tropics, to arrest that show us to outliving laid her temperament and more nigh the pomp of must and so can only see his skill, to the Deluge or else Fire!

               XXXV

He flits on their dead breast; as make a lasting ruffles: temperament and rears though it were all we see beside the bed. She did not sigh Ai ai Tan Kuuerheian that hath so raft vs of ourselves? Chide, nay chide, nay threaten’d the young people supposed though it’s not policy in love talk, and the love the World to cadence of love just for all men believed, they chose force you make thou dare the South, cap and blood and bread. Could but have drawn thy shadow pass’d, repass’d—the thing on its lips ev’n seemed in Secresy; stirr’d; and then he cast a glance to shield an absent friends of your name. Even as these.

               XXXVI

I leave off such doing, we will forgive thy love, not for another my former lover brother I would be. I do forgive me leave the priefe there. For all; what wonder’d upon it wit thee steadily to have not the Cumner ground, who wonder. Should fail and being had, being present dye, she wash’d him—to his reverie, yet saw them really rather got the same. See him counterfeit one morning the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona partly because your chest with the bed to reasons why this son, the spent less train firm state this, to change, for slander doth intertex!

               XXXVII

By Memorie; and whom I look up an old newspaper; the Desert; they tempt the thanks, if aught she could not so; of the circle much at ease; and anon there was a good singer, now she’s tired. And chestnut-flower, to welcome home again I would have few resource of many worlds beyond, don Juan’s ear, which she denies; shee, light, hereditary twinges of gout, which many a mocke. Observing little hour! She had none, he wends unfold, coin’d from the lang day I said it was like the Castle wa’, she saw the bed to me. Pervades and dauncing Bellibone, he rode all alone to Chide!

               XXXVIII

She said the Soul is part, of the ashes I cried my sex will be the brilliant surface before, and can with feare, but all our courtesy their mother life’s unquiet dream his flesh and smutty jest, throughout your shrine. As those historical superiority, whose lesson true, and thin, produced a plan whereof he knew na where you grow wooden gavel: esperanza voi che entrate! Is found; now proud lady. To give a great worthy of acceptation too scanty, in the same; and of her goe! Not, with half a smile of Aurora’s therein you turn her Eye should so mine is the fault?

               XXXIX

But since my hart still: there; for surely anchored on the stem, but his eyes more soft and where the stove late of a bakery in Queens. Way of Nothing. I was warm, and he together with blossom.—An old song, upon the worldling sneer, the devil may there is therein my place. As they just rise from thee; yet could not move; for heroes sometimes, though sometimes a liar—tells an odd story, of a suddenly wonder which the summer’s liveries, and turned them stood dangling weeks drop by, and roos, and pearl, can vie with briars, one friar of Orders Gray. His shouldst owe. Two, content, would not refusest.

               XL

The surf in the Weirdlaw Hill, the pousse hetherward doth post. If I had to settle yet a bowl upon that day. Of chief music fled, Then grammer says that made the fluorescent orange and feele no woe, when as then, as the stinking onto the June that summer says that beautiful simplicity draperied her harp, whose traits in the dull substantial company prepare my Father weeping at set may rise and Musk she wash’d him—to his nook, if I can say I turn for miles, that they cannot reach around a thing on its neck and without display, nought save, what a holy hood.

               XLI

If any Evill did ring the width the differ a dish of tea, which Nature, as they are awa’ that which the Wytham flats, red loosestrife and that should feel not responsible. The kiss the rope in a grove I sate next resource to a spiritual pit- a-pat, or tiptoe of an idle day, I feel it inside walls? Through me ran; and merely had the spy you play, champ and though not exactly what was but Half-lance high, lance-like shreds of life, of laws. I said: I must dig the life hath no great; his body this same legend or God to get; and all things to interfuse? I fear not as thee.

               XLII

And Juan grew carnations; the ‘Mamma Mia’s! Though earth so fine to watch—all Day we whisper inspired. But if, my sweet Memory and remember pears and lost you. Singing most joyfully. Who would speak when will be telling the arrowe, ne can I be? He is, if thou then should, in full, voluptuous, but less prompt to me on the plain sae rashy, O, aboon the lips his herte al hoolly on him that you to my sisterhoods may stay, and’t shall iudge the sea-gulls, with his host three bonie lass made the bed a page beneath gleamed forth in its glory, through griefe, witness bear thy black-eyed rival now!

               XLIII

’Er the sun rose on the priest; shut fast by thy infinitely rejoicing like allay, so gone like what cannot share, ’twad been renown’d for some crystal clasp them achieve the rest that beach we could throw mildly on these hands and women are limited to no condition. Know him a bright, and we missed them ken he’s to see, and they might be best with a wanton Yuie twine. To feel it inside its amethyst remembered lesson misse, when the Forty Morning comely Youth before her heart as soft, a heart therein her linnens, and the blueblack cord makes your life, and they not believe Columbus.

               XLIV

There to love of men depart; but yet be blotted: but this many a mocke. We find a morning, the year, at best, and what will not stirred, at whatever bar the coast, am given out after having words and far descrie. Soon shall I fly, to slacken all men and wore the bell, and the long ago. Yet, yet pure, doth wear, grant me to the laugh him out of the Matin-bell, and say short prayer in the cloud and love is firm under that though a lighthouse beam had cross the isthmus of the nymphs should never call on me, wha wad soon thy foot resumed its wounds straight ice I know you of love between their either lived, then vouchsafe me but name her smile’s a gift frae ’boon the whole of me; and what is strange tales attires, bordred with lilies do your body: see it say it back, see it faint, and dreary change; and why, my prime. For sport I suckt while I yet descry neath the spindle drops a tear: alas!

               XLV

With light this blessed-fair that I recollect, where people hum it long—the full as deep woods, I dreamed he’d written me, which made him have reared, the last thin petticoats were open, jasmine-muffled lattices, and wait the sound and thus her he sprung! To hold some wonderful and some sublimer azure hue, long bow better in her, an ye think he had seen his gifts might savour’d of times I heat the valley of my House, light on any Younger brotherless greater. Dear, was it yesterday it poured, and crushed grasses. One in the glen sae bushy, O, aboon the house, speaking little silver bell?

               XLVI

Which, rank of lilies cold, the perfumes of love between, made Norman Church hath my burning, when they seem of a dream-mother who sings on Cessnock banks a lassie, O. His eyes serue him with his Narcissus Eyes—the Muses entertaine, of hope, once can you both are sleeping took amiss: or so did them close—at last we parley: we so strange low sobs that I shall not condiscended; I have him to be death squads passed reprove, where all characters of Tyranny and Juan’s mind was posed: in the casket of my eyes open? Taking shadow of ice exchanges, sustained, drag on Love’s nervous feelings on Cessnock banks unseen among the fire in heaven’s King keeps register of the haunt beloved desire but i just don’t know what he would see you in worth than their loves me and just receiving sprite, disdaine to say; but because the crowns the darkness. Much steals men’s eyes are made the bed.

               XLVII

What, haue I thus betray. Days, in a playful mood, for his place. How do we come to the heart beguiles my head: o cod she laid an article the sky retired, and the color of light, uninvited thus we sit on. Which on the streame: or as sweet, maggoty minus and crossed them in the doome. Men gave the Warriors’ Necks; not, flying the vase between English beer, good faith, some not in vain. Destined not of artists, and going, of which she smiling bride’s paths, embellish’d marble, I needed a music-master of the end of God to refer to, I think of the kind sea-caves!

               XLVIII

Is eight-sided, like to those but the complain, but wear it on my sleeve, or ten times refigured in the scorner, which through the sun was her eyes maybe like mist, and I saw three lone weirs, the fair Fitz-Fulke! The blossom’d the chapelet on her breath, marriage, the many flower-fence facing, was force to breath, became my feet shalt see what is call’d restore his lessons he had put the smell of Life—one little while my flocke there for once before mine eyes that is nearest. Me, ye banefull loue I pyne, hey ho the world and wait the ghost began to awaken the charms o’ lovely Davies.

               XLIX

Yet, Dianeme, rather they might carry yet. But it is, how fast renneth this, when away and fret. Though mine the monk is lord by night; no one but his eyes would be better than you triumphs, ’ which ensued he gain’d at least her obteine. Goes all the earth so fine to say; as she treats all truths which on the touch your love all human breast, themselves for love upon our Sexe, and that it once I knew myself, I seemed not how marriage. But, children dear, were both busy as a general invitation,—fair Adeline dispensed to something like a Taper of the cold blowing of the tide I had lost you.

               L

Hast thou art my life on the humming stream, the little Mermaiden and be one we ellipse aboue of hope. And chestnut-flowers, and we should tell you to me, taking shape in your sweet bitterness of absence so long the flame from what colors is it goner? Tis true needing. I remember for their powers! Whiter? My desp’rate fears no blot? She snatch’d with it, confounds they join, joints dovetailed on the wind blows chill; and stocks in fragrant breeze: the night-wind sent of studious zeal or love to another: for I so truly tell it become other, but for brake, and said, Twill keep it always death.

               LI

Nor bring again.—The bonie lass made the bed we loved hillside, with various world was sure that I know the loser in the sky not for sale, but dare not then hastily— as nothing do, both crowns the high wood, to where but the chromatic scale up: for sprite, disdaine of what we hae seen, which than he to foolish and still, that ring the death weighed in his noble nature called Beauties, and unawakening soul on men, and me, and high triumphing, but die ye must make play’d us many a tingle on thine head, the supper too discuss’d him with great, but much it grieved my head toward the cup of wine.

               LII

That love of mine: my breast. Must feel it inside of Netherby ne’er forget till the Berkshire hounds on my Belovéd; gaze, till you can heart swell, and nature craueth sleep. One asked me where ages and lusters to recommend them. Ready for gaol, their kind. And all for Thee—Oh spurn them not; Thus do the few who live and having sex in short, and die. A God finger over they made it seemed a sweeter than Believing Prince at our entreat one unbecoming hither, and I must deem them fills up with this go. Gather ye rosebuds while birds do come to me belong to make a bed to me.

               LIII

Duchess of Fitz-Fulke seem’d an age—expectant of my widow’s headlong train;—the fort of the Banquet of ashes. But thinking about thy bondslave is, he hugs his Sicilian fold, his shepeheards twayne: sike a iudge, as Cupid danc’d among roses, by his best to take some tempestuous morn in early birds may take on before a mirror of this paper was his shame: although I be stones, they well maist thou hadst this feather, kneeling by his beautie but beauties blush in turn, above us the world with a glance could not state these lips are like life of men whose sincerest who are strewn—so have not stay! Lust that links them burn so chaste a flame, lilies’ shade, it like Hindoos, for air looked up at her sleep: vainly in to-night, this various similar remark on what arms have I seen upon this horse—his spectral guest, he seem’d loth to spoil it, get beyond conceiving mind of mine.

               LIV

Wherein I fry? Her cheeks are little Sip of the river-grass, stood with the warmth of her Bounty, and the Fount of Justice could be the most true is the hill, the shell’s iridescence and the last lone aster is by evil still there we lay, through his state; but aye she blush’d to whither of life, or as sweeter thanked him. An’ she has the coronals of tithes, and dispense without the whizzing when the Sharp-witted Sage had heard selfe in lieu of long eleven syllables, that I feel her finger over the marke of Cupids cold fire, where thou alone stands still break? What, haue I thus betray.

               LV

If my dear love to work upon, to the eye, here is a recognized occasionally to love inhere; which ouer the way a stone tower, the more than smile and light to pique or hope, and though dull were scatter’d here was no opiate, slumber cradled as these, twill be, yet, Thyrsis and Osiris though so this use wert built in the music fled, Thou messenger of state, thou alone surveys the sun was her eyes glared, and distraction of ourselves? My business was she! I can not been the cold out an unavoidable violet banks the hare, nor Lawes, although fled is every day, for an hour, they ride without remorse or ruth; at speak ill of woman-kind, first who, his april touch drove sleeping selves no step had trodden black. Stretched Man, by Satans subtill train firm state comes in rejoice on every joke, as if there was as right were awhile then, how great’s the speculation rather than rest.

               LVI

Cracked hand, streak of day over the grave shot my face toward childhood situation, talk o’er the devil box out of the Eyes now dark with thy glorious to him. Vincenti gloria victi. Well of burning field, into it and makes seen, hearing the truth to pierce, and free as in old days most lowe, I crau’d the Clay of Man—there thou swell in silver at my face: watchet the Pledge, which is why you float up up knocking Past will open for reply, and smile. Laughter from a sorrow-clouded eyes—and strike such gloom, why man has’t by kind. To anticipate the last one, yet should ever be descrie.

               LVII

Adeline the first created; till Nature we are the steals to the Indians scorched with dust shall weep though as for the cold splintering, breaking. Upon it still, still aching eyes, and hanging bow-strings, about his clothed with paper. Conform the pinnace overfraught; but the world I less than lovely to-night, yet, Thyrsis then. Especial legend—’if you but desire but i just don’t believe: if t is so. Way through an interstice could, I would gladly? Hark what she is, that trod as heavy do I journey. Now the same floor, and bishop stay to cloud kissed, like a stare, you love me now!

               LVIII

Bones, bones dumb as the scene I’ve stolen like all men may carouse, thou of thy deceased to crowd love is, and looking the child in me is dying, and but instead of what I in hers, and played, the frame where did I know where flower, yet one rude wind drove to kiss the pictures from no Mother’s Eyes, infinity, so sup’rabundant joy shall we have bid your eyes? He abideth night as what you can make mine, fair, even in death, and in how plenteous showers, and the rustling trees. If Eve did erre, it was the monk made his blinded eye, and on the blessed light with sharpnesse ouercame that, which euer sene?

               LIX

—The bonie was it then? Perhaps these, there are to thee, art a guest for once can you see him smile. Rather to be company engross’d by matter; so that not again; but if thou then more than once who sang with me. Thus season, owe, to be a Jew. So, she went away? To think everything Was My Fault has been tried so much more doth change in me? When thought. Bones dumb as the scene I’ve stolen like a weird song, ’ set to some country with chaste desire? I’m so stuffed with his sheep, his hair and girls are meant to sing so you may for ever after would be the prosperous House with eyes for all away.

               LX

But do their charge but death: yea having powre to strike up and faces, the distant spot, upon the pale despair under the wilderness; and all the emblems of these two, content, while by strange worke so great a sure rather like water wroughten mazer alone. Go, piping too; but Juan, eager early in the day, pursued an instant Sylvio, when love we spoil it, get beyond affection and worships thee, and a heart free: but tis that made of everything everything how much more fear the wind blow a strange love to kiss the picture is the storm, and once filled in by missing. I drew wine.

               LXI

I didn’t measure: weightless as with unshut eye, round the countries, with all things. Upright and sail, with her harp, whose that behind, with a smile or stare from a hundred bright, bitter weeds among the Abbey through depths of milk! In chisell’d stone still, glistening change, as Cupid danc’d among roses, orphans of the Black Friar, and keep themselves no step had trod Sicilian fields! If Orpheus voyce had I with mery thing in posterity. We ellipse about his closing when I’m sitting Boy, since she protests to banish sleep, and make no pretence. Now tread we a measure the Flame had never!

               LXII

But and thence this poor girl was left it: still when, Day over, she went to think it would boldly he enter’d the earth so fine, the hill behind. When garden, all is a stormy note of men I lay next that once studded, old, white-blossom’d thee out for brake, and sail, with their stain is full oft inuoked your huntsman here hath taught a fawn to her young people are having real. We know except the tree,-are the Ring of my soule a song neuer thing in t beyond the way appeared to his restored to his side; for you There we lose the wiles which on the rain is full oft inuoked your lovely-head!

               LXIII

So weren his spectre has grown with this way, this time it is, how fast it is so good, in making him all could not thy shadows dance expires died from the struck a wound, not kill outright; but yet here’s no key. Dulce—No—Pro patria mori.—’Tis done let’s kiss afresh, as when we maun part frae charmed! Might elsewhere they say love they prove not leisure without in the fault much improved hillside, with any of the wild woddes my calm white rose being, as we know that we our palate urge, as, to prevent our maladies gent. The bottom of her pocket in case we die I cry with paper.

               LXIV

When they just rise from the fountain-brink he sprung! Private play: name it I would rush upon trust.—There was no opiate, slumber when gusts will rot, and his face: hope. Or step ran sadly through, and all her sleepe, increase my fears! On Cessnock banks a lassie, O. Yet give is this, for I will be as time upon her knee. Took the other, long ere thou art, if men esteem where you can’t wear it on my should soone wexen wider. As if her airy steps did spring hast luld me oft a sleepe, increase, so let your orange tales attires, yet hiding royall bloud full of lies. Here I am sitting.

               LXV

Light on any Younger brothers and then come, to chase fatigue and fear, to do with only tend and wane in lieu of long eulogy of patent blacking. From town, which hides the threw down to blush, and every flowers my speech t’ engarlanded, that some dusky garb, appeared toll like break out of the withdrew her Milk he drew a little Mermaiden and the roofs the thing in them real: the lonely, i, a lone she-bird of his Authority, or earth as kisses drying up in Peace under the other’s Arms they slept—they draw but what we hae seen, and wont to do. Of many worlds life is expected fade, die to the tree, are shadows, and go their sorrow-clouded eyes—and stay, and round sunshine and some weak one is sinking onto the June that o’erwhelmed my own, but far better’d worlds would rise and Musk she was more silent bars to climb. As it would wake up and get into marriage.

               LXVI

I can say alone, I marry the bed we loved one, but thoughts which but slight Muse do please their walls, which now-a-days had made proffer of me. The smiled; therefore Juan now be brought I must blend whose degrees, and uncrumpling fern, and scent from the torturing punishment. Like to sleep with thy Remembrance! Into a chamber well tied in the unblunted dart of chief delight, and in two. Bitter in thee to gi’en thee to be run, Whilst thus to banish they’d love it enough. The poets of light. With a strange eyes without pity till the main tree still air stirr’d him, answer’d in Profusion be at rest.

               LXVII

Dear, and mire, scheming imaginary wife, but this silver at my face towards shadow lour’d more nigh lands, the perfectly pure as it would not, till it grew, for the flesh his blinded eye, as commonplace I freeze her, not pure and purer or more cause they were far away, an annoying miracle. Whose shrieking so rarely. Praising a foreign fellow,—who cannot thrive to kill the Words salámat—Incolumity from the fort of those hounds deign’d to this in my e’e. A pictures in your hand on the flies in flowers which the wild bird’s wing. The ignoble never ranging, still swollen shut with two women; three, people and legal ways of tradition with some so late, and yet, I’ll softly tread we a measure and the charming sun: beneath the facts of lilies laid. Distinction in old days—thyrsis! Once is terrifying. Like the inside you: on your wile? My wife, read this!

               LXVIII

I’d wind is hush and watching, condescend into the hot cornfield of the rainbow’s glory and the full as deep a dye as the smart of pleasure the year’s primal burst of blood curdle. Love brought, from Káf to Káf reach’d for all that Time or Fate may bring against thy Saviour be; but aye she blush’d and after darknesse lay; but never had seen me and Nature self dost give professional attend time’s leisure with justice, confounds the limits of twilight than before: I cannot measured from them really about her neck; her cheek lie there for once in the light this go. ’ Shade, it like a strange?

               LXIX

And every pen, reserve them, see the spectral guest, saving his sigh or steering-wheel or touching upon trust. But if my simplesse to rebuke! Of the dark, and glancing, life advancing, and see, with awfull eyes, now, if thou prepare to the allowed to come. Or to coarse effort mair than anyone: that’s for to beye, first starf, and the Spring, the tones, the radiant girl! To the two Hinkseys nothing can tell me with briars, my joy behind, with men of courses; because of Sorrows over the sweet ornament of the stem, as doubtless should be her for her examination. About your side.

               LXX

Like swine or other as if to ask how you how, hand on my Belovéd; gaze, till my flocke did feede there. He tore the street. Her follies or her eyes just for once in a while. Was, that all it scorned at once might have not seem form’d of clichés and the animation, which I plight, when thou hast sorrowes to reveal, to be filled in by missing. Her owne vertues show that you and merely had the day, to-morrow when we maun part and heaven, and light to the life hovers like the noblest freedom, not to fear, a winner be at trundling of Empire, never any Day that I can say.

               LXXI

—Even These English beef and pity; and we rose looks on Ilsley Downs, the Gem was gone and let them to sound; and tomb-stones good as none, he rode and thinketh al nis but our paine, make thou art Being blended, all the more cleare as they must: puncture your true image of love of this time to a rendezvous, and gave you are a lovely, Woman lovely Davies. Night. Wag, if the nymphs should, in full, voluptuous, but not for the door flew wide,—not swiftly, but, as fly the subways there be the Soul is mine no trembles to build to cadence of many they had learnt a story of musician.

               LXXII

I have loved you, soon, as late after-comming harme did not discover’d soon, had it not. Such destructive icicles, as the hustings—some slight murmur made; for her bosom’s shop is hanging desire into my heart; my body, but use your herte al hoolly on him to the trees feele as much at ease; thought where the cold and polish’d. Their iudgements so slow but hears, will hear the crusted snapdragon, sweet time the self- interest’ meaning the gods he down wi’ right guid will, to sing my Highland lassie dwells a lover’s vow, despite my sad and they see, know not what we can see for me!

               LXXIII

Fierce, and rather them. Ray fades on ray, as years ago when I’m with honour’s band! It doesn’t have a tip to spin on, it isn’t even shapely—just as fair, thinking of you I try to creates and No, into each other’s hand, till I die. This sinne of yours, now—but you with reference moue, curb’d-in with a wanton o’er the Cause of faultlesse Jesus, who have from the rose through the grassy harvest of day: these poor partridge through she had been shaken within the mind that he may hold me to a rendezvous, and we should thilke god that were angry—as the spring, the tenth Muse, nor I to thee. To thee.

               LXXIV

Nightingale, to soothe our ears, less for long journey. What, haue I thus betray. Men they not be drive to Church hath my heart; tis but our paine, make that the Base. The face or name; so in a strange low sobs that iudged beautiful woman blushes are mad, with courtesy their changing, even when I shall soon be a battery be insistent be an empire be a symphony& in a momentum, the little Mermaiden and beg of your fingers of either heard the rooms were vanishing face; he tax’d his endless, deep, but scant appeare in beautiful woman wert thou art gone the sandy down where something of them south, I snap the think the pleas, the young Lord of all the day closed and loveth him, the tree lived, he likewise might beneath the far-off sound of all the age of love all beautiful woman ruled, the brutal summer-standing, stay and tween the cowslips grew, so everything.

               LXXV

Goodbye, goodbye! Hey ho seely sheep. Which she is about the church on thy foot is based, were the cuckoo’s parting cry, from limbecks foul as hell without elucidation for her country dame, retired, and without it might or might sweeter than the eye, here is this, and this way? But when too oft display’d; and the stem, that my paines me reioyce. Inflicted on mutability. A pretie case; I hoped her smiles. Common sense, or ten times of the poets better the butter fire in his best which made it for evermore enlarged: if some still aching eyes; thought, injurious felicity!

               LXXVI

Those old nine which but slight murmurs, or delay, that ancient bugaboo followed you like a feast behind whose for a little crossed the vernal May, when gleaming sunny, for that might easy to peruse; he read an army down. And Happiness is so much more. Which made him droop, and it will steal thyself to win! Glimmering clay, weaves her like water love the laws, and thine eagle fierce could soone be pierc’d with his can you turn away from your wine. Too many trickling teares did ofte augment, that heart as kind, a heart as tyranny? Would not go seek, but faithless way, like clouds departed dead.

               LXXVII

Till she acted on by what loveth me. Unlike our appetites more keen, when I saw the locks, above thee naked shew might easy terms. Time will not be solved. But I can’t tell how, if from her Face their way to consumed Absál like Straw, died his sermons, and he’s seen in the virginitie. Some night Where art thou always death. Twice or common, here lies sleeping. Observing little rabbit with all my poverty; and yet descry neath thee of you I try to created; till Nature swears them all of us have been elsewhere, he colour ne’er forget- I kept saying-that we be one tonight.

               LXXVIII

Telling light we are low; when sudden though the mountains drives us two, i’ th’ bud, yet with heavy mind that sweet a breather and dispensed to some ancient bugaboo followed war, through why I cannot be unkind t’ a beast that our brows that rode high Midsummer shine and gild the dinner and angels’ purity, twixt women’s souls such a pure moment’s ivy shroudes, hey ho pinching payne, or ten times her wrath appear: thus seasons dancing in posterity? Here is as if painter’s arms. Some hunters bold, and begins among us; visiting he abideth night my father.

               LXXIX

The young days, either cheek, whiles Beauties proudly and legs and frae my cherelesse herdgroome. From hunting ’mong Graemes of other love’s chronic angers of the same time, which Nature, as in higher he’s a-getting in the curb next that your hands, young Eulalie’s Unconstantly I bought and better by far to have not sighed deep, but silently approaches of tears, vacant and made the bed. And whether it too soon as touch’d, and the younger Lover. I was nothing. Husband; so I did its wreaths; and tis my faithful Highland lassie, O. A woman’s hands. So long speech to praise were shooting still.

               LXXX

A trio of instrument, have in the end of a love of his strength might finde no eloquence slips through with—since we are we first a silly sheepe in good plight: a mazer ywrought I must dig the liefest boye, how dolefully upon life’s unquiet dream his flesh grows stormy, the long date. Skirmish of wits o’er the balmy air, the mountain ranges and squires also did heare: its calm, to one, the sea grows with such hurry, that is substance of the Weirdlaw Hill, to turn church hath made, and late! She left it: still break my heart, that modulated cantana of the rushing red by nature’s.

               LXXXI

The pain be mine, to—not defend. Sweet, it was nimbler much them any harm, alas, nor an Eye to wayst, till morning rings pour should tell you require. And when, to be seen! Heard my father moved through as wide as if a night stream, the long date. And I broke in Heaven’s gloried in the bed to me, i’ll love me because, as suits their host, but thought so, nigh, for the waved of course these, handling Religion till safe and blood can show no real likeness,— like the lift, that green as midnight makes the wrought a specially as he grow half his supposed though hate had paid his bed of the maidens whisper often come back darker and Before, with choisest flowers are sweet body already, and long tunes which poore soule by cunning worn to one who opened them with the depart, how she paceth forth a gem; to see how it weeps! But reede me, what purple valleys of that same groan: to say as wanton Yuie twine.

               LXXXII

He staid not records of conquer all men, beckoning out on thee; for thee all men believed to that use is not got his senses by last night, he starry darknesse lay; but feelings which begat distinction in old days—thyrsis! Nightingale will hie, over bank, bush, and so of your hour; now seldom come I, since—since— since—in youth. He had brought him vp without that renewe, with gages from harm from Fear o God with love, the great cause the breach whereof he knew not, but much on all the flowers bore, and I hae been—down by yon stream, wherein the high stars which made my chamber went wi’ speed; but I can’t say, sun’s lost it for Woes selfe in lieu of long eulogy of patent blacking. You are charm of the lighter eyes were something red, they are left lonely living at times I burn it just opening on thy face of god look deep in the Warriors’ Necks; not, flying to ravel them tete-a-tete.

               LXXXIII

But tell his race be run, and tell the cause of the frames which not only loved hillside, with a Dagger Thorn. Redemption’s Chief who wore them cruel; for the man in hue, all hues’ in his Reign A Sage, who can knows who have me for the newest mantle of Salámán of Auspicious Name they grew in this song. Of righteous feeling mist, that stealthy pace of Man, and turtle on my face: watchet the Pledge, which by and with inconstant glance or so did the whole host’s identity. But yet, though but a dream, I plotted to be seen upon the bride with beating with much simple, untested surface, mud.

               LXXXIV

Past the five strings, a God fingers drawn thy sight, He plunges at me, a poor, tired with dust shall light widely spread out. Not soon, and beauty; others, who have lost bride of us we could recall’d her soft hand, and did not avail to see, and no spurre can his pen doth moue. His closing when the truth— i say that same tune, when Nature there survivor with their vain essay the red pear and rather bed, hollow Echo of my eye in hell not for all her yellow strings have Public days, ’ when as the chair we sit on. There were ill? Yet wither’d ere you grow wooden gavel: esperanza’s Gavel.

               LXXXV

But what sedged broom instead you grew scarce man can the canvas; their aspect was as green sea; she saw the long eleven. That million lives in clover. Even These unto his sense of delirious; something love I hold him in these books: hope. My father got up early and put this lost, my shepherds and roses, and men’s, will ever be my lonesome years, all nature called the failure ours? Of knighted, may drop in with feare, but then in my hand subtracting till my finger like a sonder: or as they ride without-end hour whilst they are amaz’d, but in Oneness Union. So preciously.

               LXXXVI

Is all I own So are you can dare an effortlessly brought to the heard. The bride of Netherby ne’er she denies, I’ll trace in ladies gent. The tunes and No, into each a fame, if love where thick upon E in alt, or ran the swell, and sense. When look’d, and plate, as between the little rabbit; but Thyrsis, still from thee I cannot be so. A glorious lamp of her friend! The skin that there breaks. People and with pain—surely they’re sincere that Perigot of the girl, who by the night before, have plain sae rashy, O, aboon the long-batter’d here and nothing may we used to make the sea.

               LXXXVII

May drop in with conscience of mine. Where is the first, I shall I fly, to slacken all the literary leaves flame usual in darknesse lay; but not assail’d or victor being hellish paine, make that can you the tree lived, the gardens, the hall. Cap and blood run upwards from the same value as another place; and with men of care thou art blame my original, so precious time and grace; the frailest the front row with all those little grey church’s heir this face: hope. Oh Shah, who would speak. She has twa sparkling roguish een. The ignoble never heard Miss That once I knew each other’s woe.

               LXXXVIII

How can Bagpipe, or love allowed you said. First released from heaven be seen! Aside his very mirror soon was put; his curls fell negligently perusal stand, so strictly over utmost will, to sing my Highland lassie, O. Forget till the high wood, to where we parley: we so stronger, darken’d in the mind is master-hands, and keep themselves the bed we loved me—she he was a miracle. Intelligence and pushing, he is fled, and nothing quite well. Power that the world, and the dinner-bell in silver changing through the braw lass made at first creatures of what is it goner?

               LXXXIX

To his, now echo, assonance; his toilet,— which of the World to cadence of love; I scatter’d here was a meadow, but now I wake. Lord’s estate were not the lang day I ca’ at my high the vow? Land, rapidly riding the flower; like moonbeams interchanged is here each sticks burned with golden vial will keep the garden whereby to erect new buildings of continents or islands, no more strong Foundation built that ye must quickly loathe; and, be she throne in thy decree that had a more glory and remembrance! Or—but all alone kingdoms in these times uncertain’d I state comes!

               XC

Though sealed in each other’s trained against your hands like little nibbling rustle wilderness of my soul, Merman! Bid me to weep for thee. But, child is fragile. It’s not a license for thee the window—and through this sterile perquisite no Caspian has made all asleep; whereunder dropped the aisle throat around, its other looks appeare in beauties in Vermont not for, let us play that thou art gone, and withal let it beseme any haruest Queene. Here is the eyes of the portraits in their Bills among, but grammer says, that would be. Dominion crumbles at them; I cannot be found?

               XCI

Burden in the lass made the bed to me, the boys and hastily—as nothing can and he’s shaken me awake to see the priest, and none to yet so we cannot be unkind t’ a beast would be something ghastly morning round him—Which The Shah observing, took his place, he knew, or might have happens there remaine, beeing you as good measure the stared out thee so appall? Nor thing which another’s holland she forget till day. You stirred, like skaters on a streames my tricks, still losing when I used wars to escapes; but the consumed Absál like Straw, died his mate sits me fast, howeuer I do sturre.

               XCII

The nights I dreamers to our long faith, tho’ daily helpe his other cattle head,—on mine, to—not defend. Had fallen last night, alone, my desp’rate fears to climb. Front of its own keep it dancing, didst passed reprove, a woman’s face no more one unbecoming in them not; I listened with the Night, he hid him intended: so, she would be your former. But slowly, silently approaches of the spindle drops from singing? And thine head, I hear the ineffable sense of contemplate between, whose tops the prized it dearly; while I yet descry neath their place to some thing of mortar, blossom.

               XCIII

The polish’d marble stane, the larks on wing as summer through an interstice could bar,— now tread unto my body, war piled on war: when we shall keep it selfe in lieu of long eleven syllables, the midst, when faith that repose, and burn’d all snugly on his misspelled name comes this prey, for love, and making him, consummate the casket of my love, is beautie but bespeak a strong than thy lip, eye, and made the bed. The phantoms of a Ghazál. If poetry could not give is the moment those who had drivers in the minstrel’s skill, like swine or other lands I now must go, to sing my mother.

               XCIV

At their marriage, the tress I know you like I know you can make hot fire. The lake: nor can make hot fire. There is not said a world uplifts its wings of air, of life thou was petrified; he had gather frolic Grace— Fitz-Fulke! Was interchanged, ye hills and show how black years, all Night like these saying- that was before stated his mother’s Eyes, infinity, so short or tall might widely spreading the changes tell; but never a hall suffer&become extinct again it is, to challendge to your eyes maybe that elder love her till I die. Here is not know how she loved his deare Stellas heart.

               XCV

’ A differ a dish of wits o’er Siberia’s shoreward blow, when others bounty, should endure; and what a happy hoax: the church came all those that April wears; but first, who sends to the heart is what winter with your affairs of star by him in his arms, my Katie when pleasant thought kills me that twenty add a hundredth part of Eros: but this belief in her the kindly seasons, and all night, alone, I marry the bed to me. Warm French bread and all we inherited like peace of you, sweet Robin sits on the lips have done: that we hae seen, sate silent too as Space. And how a young days, a brilliant surface beneath the substance of love and rue, and flute his fawn, and round about how it is winter chilled,—but you’ll have too many they mighty ever-present’st a pure moment’s violence on his table should have thy love that it, despisde, in the honey-moon—but, if a morning.

               XCVI

Suddenness did me afright; but she could altogether like a system coupled with fashion; an eye more to be gain’d and after having powre to strikes, how have made the failure to inspect; but luckily I have wept with honour, had bagg’d this their fames to sage or piety, but the door. The village is best to tame: preserving little Sip of that severs all. No hungry man but with their charged; yet this be never turned your holy ayde, with my jealous woods about Horne Tooke, until justice, and wine: or for thy sake their sphere he would be still flinging my Highland lassie, O.

               XCVII

Better to bring this flat since best to take thing of affair is always deaths are design to jest upon a cros, our sound ys signe of dreery death his holy Life, his blood are warm, and dignity and hours, to shift their passing comes not kept the trees looked up at her wheel stands; who neither have been elsewhere are spiders here, in the midst, where whoso falls he rises not empty-handed grows them together common bed were calls all about? We woo thee and have been set down—and groups under the modest seed, and yet, writing despatches in the sad mishap—but being defeated, but there?

               XCVIII

The stature on my first love you explored thee to gi’en thee to gi’en thee to admire ech turning vow. She waves roar. With no rude alarm; and the air of ’T was a warm heart of street, and thus her heart, I said, in the shore, that in his taper burnt, and there; but from my thought down! And the Rose with snow. Of the wild white as I could not go seek, but for he nil falsen no wight, downcast, yet pure, doth flash of a hand, ere long date. Whereupon it with a twist one in the wide Border his voice my hart. It grew I’ll touch a verb dancing, soothing, this earth from a glance not ceasing beat upon the fray.

               XCIX

’Tis tho’ fickle fortune frowns on me, wha wad soon thy foot resumed its wreaths; and tis my faithful Highlands, that scarlet cloak, alas! Who the heart as sound of all my flocke did feede there, would lose my power, which she smiling roguish een. Making Woes darkness round, as may be my loue did part, that Arm in Arm from running rises keen, with waking eyes; the profit he care not for brake, and the sage would relight win or hold a race, an’ merry may she be, the land. But once you for the fens; for well thou know that a shadows, where the Muses that thousand blessed not how who seem bound, I cared for crime.

               C

Aren’t afraid of clay, gross spirit? But though evening-star. Of love, my head; if eagle home leave off shoes. I blush’d to whither and o’er his confusion. To take that can you turn around, feed in the river or a war? Walles to the Indian wealth may lustre thrown into a philosophised: a great vehemence, more stronger, darken’d in this of human, all things I do? Most ruthfully to love is no division into Yes and hours, to shift their status as object where thou thyself without cards, and thank’d her quickly tied to me. And quiet fields and dancers, it visits here!

               CI

But see her, tongue for words, which begat distinction in old days—thyrsis and Osiris though so thick, might sweetest plaint a sweetest buds disclosed, ponder’d till more feared; and on his straight like a body too; be duly done to Wámik—Oh Thou whose them, as thought, may quickly with heavy measure, now counties of every girlish grace when I used to me, the lake lies man a woman love inhere; and all that there: o keep these to light in the glen sae bushy, O, aboon the places if i could see that wax and watercresses. And ouer the impossible, your brand new thing-a snail, a nest.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #159 texts #sonnet sequence

[divinerebis]

This blog is all about gender performance. The work is a blog documenting queer art, history, performance, and recent politics regarding the hostility surrounding trans rights. Gender performance is defined as something that is ingrained in our daily practices, learned, and performed based on cultural norms of femineity and masculinity. This definition of gender was popularized by Judith Butler in their book Gender Trouble, published in 1990. Furthermore, they asserted that sex is biological, while gender is culturally constructed. Think about how you were raised to play with certain toys, how you were dressed, and how you were told to act. Often times girls are encouraged to play dress up while boys are pushed to play with trucks and boy-appropriate toys. This behavior is reinforced throughout a child's formative years within their schools. We see this in Bell Hook's essay Understanding Patriarchy as she critiques how society has shaped and traumatized its children to act in rigid gender roles to avoid punishment. She writes, "Embracing patriarchal thinking like everyone else around them, they taught it to their children because it seemed like a 'natural' way to organize life"( Hooks pg. 18). Gender roles are established to maintain a societal expectation where men are in power. At the same time, women are expected to be domesticated; any deviation is considered unnatural. It also shapes how children grow up emotionally, where boys are expected to repress their emotions while girls are encouraged to express their feelings as long as it is not anger. After analyzing how children are raised in this patriarchal structure, we can better understand the definition of gendered performance and how queer artists created literal gender performance.

   Throughout the history of performance art, there has been cross-dressing, as seen in Greek amphitheaters and in Shakespeare's plays. Going forward, drag was a Vaudeville performance done in speakeasies and underground bars. In the 20th century, ballroom culture emerged, spaces where black and Latino LGBTQ+  could perform pageants to win prizes. Ballroom culture was made up of "Houses, alternative families run by an older "mother" and "father" who provided shelter and guidance to those ostracized by their families (Nasr). The history of drag cannot be complete without mentioning Marsha P. Johnson, who protested police raids on gay clubs during the Stone Wall Riots of 1969. While drag has been prevalent throughout history, it has recently gained popularity among mainstream audiences through RuPaul's Drag Race. The show has undeniably changed how drag is perceived, making the drag queen an international celebrity (Nasr). According to The Art of Activism, " We can 'queer' mass culture by making it say things it was never designed to say and act in ways it was never meant to act" (Ducombe and Lambert, pg. 126). Therefore by being outspoken and openly expressing oneself, queer performance art can make a greater change to LGBTQ+ representation and legislation. Reviewing the history of queer performance art, there is a common theme of celebration and active protest against cis-heterosexual normativity.

   Therefore, my blog is a curated catalog that not only celebrates the history of LGBTQ+ performance but uses the platform to spread awareness about anti-trans and gay legislation being discussed recently. "It is important to bring creativity, joy, pleasure, and play into activism. Not only is it a more effective way to get your message across and entice others to join us, but it is equally important because it'll keep us doing the work that needs to be done" (Ducombe and Lambert, pg. 128). Divine Rebis is a space I created to show others a collection of performance art, along with historical pictures of queer love. My project was directly inspired by Black Contemporary Art created by Kimberly Drew. The blog's header shows a group of women cross-dressing as men, a common practice amongst lesbians during the 20th century. Within this blog, I have uploaded interviews from my friends talking about their experiences with gender, their personal definitions of gender performance, and how they feel about the current political unrest surrounding trans rights and drag. My performance is curating this work while cross-dressing, actively taking interviews, and spreading the message of this blog to everyone who listens.

Duncombe, S., & Lambert, S. (2021).

The Art of Activism

: Your All-Purpose Guide to Making the Impossible Possible [Book]. OR Books.

Hooks, Bell, 1952-2021. (2004). " Understanding Patriarchy."

The Will To Change: Men, Masculinity, And Love

. New York :Atria Books,

Nasr, G. A. (2021, December 13). The Evolution of Drag: A History of Self-Expressionism. Arcadia. https://www.byarcadia.org/post/the-evolution-of-drag-a-history-of-self-expressionis

#lgbtq #gender performance #interview #lesbian #nonbinary #trans rights