#( discoloration by dawn golden )

[tellmegoodbye]

Now that I finally posted my fic, until the end of time, I wanted to make a separate post for the playlist as well!

I shared a couple of these songs for music monday, but I'm going to do a more in depth analysis of the entire playlist, listing each song in order, talking about which lyrics inspired me, and sharing which moments in the fic they reminded me of.

Listen to the full playlist here.

---

Overcome - Nothing But Thieves

This was the first song I connected to 4x18 back when I first started writing this fic back in June of last year. The playlist opens with it because it introduces the overarching theme of choosing love in life's most difficult moments.

Bringer of the calm, your arms wrapped around when the fever took Thought I was gone for good, you brought me back

But I've been thinkin', babe, maybe you're right When you said the pain weathers in time We're just waitin' for a change to follow We don't always get all that we want Redefine the pain to somethin' more And we shall overcome as we've done before

Stay - The People's Thieves

I see these lyrics as a sort of a back and forth between TK and Carlos.

The first verse is TK feeling helpless when he watches Carlos spiral. He knows that he has to wait for Carlos to come around. They'll leave the darkness when he's ready.

The second verse is Carlos understanding his own weakness. He knows he can't fight this alone even if he's too blinded by obsession to admit it. He needs TK (and Owen) to help him escape it.

The chorus is TK and Carlos comforting each other. TK was scared for Carlos, but Carlos came back to him as he always will. Carlos was lost, but he found his way back home to TK.

I can find a place where no one feels the rain We'll huddle while the storm goes Leave here when you say so Hang on I pray the day will come when you can feel the sun And wipe off all the marks of days spent in the dark love Hang on

I'm only just strong enough I'm slowly sinking through the ground below So hold me Just long enough to show me How to find my way back home

Stay When you feel afraid Where you are is where I'll always go When you've lost your way Where you are is where I'll always go

Sleep Deprivation - Chance Peña

This is where Carlos' head is at. He's lost within his grief and relentlessly persuing justice at the same time. He wants to do right by his family, but he can't do that without losing himself in the process. He still needs to realize that he is allowed to slow down to process his grief and take it one day at a time.

Lost and ambitious I've been on a mission I won't stop till I'm done I toss and turn almost every night I pray to God I'm doing right By all my family's wishes Lord knows I miss them Their love outshines the sun

So when I break down I list off the reasons I'm here and I'm still breathing I'm hanging on Try to break ground, make way for tomorrow I'll find a way through the sorrow One day at a time

Discoloration - Dawn Golden

This reminds of the scene where TK is trying to rationalize with Carlos, but Carlos isn't hearing him. He's too sucked into his obsession to see that he isn't alone.

You took my hand and brought me down in the morning And I was sitting waiting for the telephone to swallow me whole

And I watched your mouth moving like a tired machine trying to plead with me. Trying to swallow me whole

And the whites of your eyes blackened with a hardened decay And you talked to me in a broken voice

Fade In / Fade Out - Nothing More

I wrote an analysis on this song here, but I think these lyrics are the perfect encapsulation of Carlos and Gabriel's relationship. A lot of these thoughts would be haunting Carlos in his persuit of Gabriel's killer.

Son, I have watched you fade in You will watch me fade out When the grip leaves my hand I know you won't let me down

Go and find your way Leave me in your wake Always push through the pain And don't run away from change

We all get lost sometimes trying to find what we're looking for

Are You Really Okay? - Sleep Token

(cw: references of self harm)

This is a song about self harm from the outside perspective of a loved one. This is where TK really starts to realize that something is wrong with Carlos, and he doesn't know what to do. Carlos is engaging in his own version of self harm when he refuses to let himself sleep, eat, or grieve.

I raised you in the dark Caught you reading by the sunrise You wandered from the path Through the silence of the hillside

You woke me up one night Dripping crimson on the carpet I saw it in your eyes Cutting deeper than the scars could run

And don't you know I can see it in you even now And don't you know I want to help you but I don't know how And are you really okay?

I cannot fix your wounds this time I don't believe you when you tell me you are fine Please don't hurt yourself again

Promises I Can't Keep - Mike Shinoda

This is probably my favorite song on the entire playlist. In the aftermath of everything that went down, Carlos is in shock. He's upset, but he doesn't really have the chance to process the gravity of the situation until he gets home to TK. It's a feeling of relief mixed with that sinking feeling of realization when he comes back down to earth and his head is finally clear enough for him to see how bad it got, and how bad it almost became. He now has to accept the fact that he may not be able to keep his promise to Gabriel. He may not ever find his killer.

What's the difference between a loss and a forfeit I tried to make it better, but I made it more sick I tried to make it right, now awake at night I know reality was getting in the way

I used to think that I knew who I was Never saw it coming unglued I used to think that I knew who I was Now it's time to see if it's true

I had so much certainty Til that moment I lost control And I've tried but it never was up to me I've got no worse enemy Than the fear of what's still unknown And the time's come to realize there will be Promises I can't keep

I Am Not Who I Was - Chance Peña

Carlos has come to terms with the decisions that he made, and now he has to figure out where that leaves him. Is he still going to be a person TK can love? Is he going to keep going down a path of isolation, or is he going to hold on to what's most important to him? In the fic, he pleads with TK to not give up on him, and of course, this is never a question for TK.

You keep me steady on the ground When my head's lost in the clouds That spotlight, though it shines bright Could never drown you out I know it's hard when I'm away I'll just hope you don't lose faith 'Cause I told the truth when I said to you That I'll be back someday

So if I fly too far Will I still have a place inside your heart? And when you've seen what I've become Will you love me for who I am, not who I was?

Life's Gonna Kill You (If You Let It) - Man-Made Sunshine

TK approaches Carlos with more understanding than most people would have, because he's lost a parent too. He knows just how dark Carlos' thoughts are. And he has the experience to know what to expect. Carlos' grief is different from TK's, but having someone who loves him and who has been there is important when he hits his lowest point and can't see how he can drag himself out of it. TK isn't going to let Carlos get to a point where he can't come back.

You know I see your troubles from a continent away And they take me from my own And I know you feel your mind gets ugly every day And I know you know what it's like to feel insatiably alone

I won't let you get ill, I won't let you give in 'Cause this life will only kill you if you let it Don't you let me get ill, 'cause you know that I will My pain loves the company My life only kills me when I let it Yеah, life's gonna kill you if you let it

Back To One - O.A.R

This song is all about starting over. It's about changing your perspective when life becomes too overwhelming that you start to lose sight of the good things. When Carlos comes home and sees TK, his whole world who was right there waiting for him all long, he's reminded of the love he still has, and the happiness that he still has the ability to feel. He is not entirely lost. Looking back on his father's death isn't going to help him move forward. And moving forward isn't forgetting either. This song is an anthem of what it means to live through the worst moments of your life, and that's what Carlos is learning how to do. Live.

I see you there, but you don't look right You got a ten-mile stare in your eyes tonight Time ain't fair, like it used to be

We're all dressed up, nowhere to go We lost our way, about halfway home And we hurt the ones who get too close

Don't look back, you'll never find your way There's a million different people Who break the same way When everything has come undone We got to bring it back to one

I know forever always asks so much Don't you let it scare you, don't you lose your touch When your still waters start to run, bring it back to one

Can I Sleep In Your Arms - Willie Nelson

This is the song TK and Carlos were dancing to in the fic! I chose it for a couple reasons. I have my own (vague) hcs of the kind of music TK and Carlos like, and I do think there is some portion of Carlos' music taste that is dedicated to older stuff. I see him listening to old country loves songs like this one as a kid and imagining the day he'd find a love like that of his own. He found it with TK. He fought to hang on to it because this thing that he has with TK is so beautiful and precious, that he'll be damned if he ever lets it go.

In regards to the actual lyrics, this song is simply about how when you fall down, when you struggle, the person who loves you is always going to be right there by your side to help you get back on your feet. It's a song about healing, comfort in weakness, and devotion.

Can I sleep in your arms tonight, lady? It's so cold lying here all alone And I have no hold to hold on you And I assure you, I'll do you no wrong

Meet The Moonlight - Jack Johnson

This is a callback to the theme of choosing love. Carlos lost sight of it momentarily, and couldn't see a world where he could exist outside of this mission that he was on. But he can. He can choose to live and to pormise himself to TK forever. His dreams that he couldn't allow himself to have most of his life are still real and attainable. He can take control of his destiny.

Well, you can meet the moonlight Any night you really wanna It's waiting in your own backyard You can make the flame Meet the kindling, make the fire Don't let anybody say it's too hard

It's funny how blind dreams can be It seems like they look off too far But it's good to be right here It's good not to miss too many chances to follow love

Emerald Eyes - Anson Seabra

I didn't include any moments from the actual wedding in this fic because it would have defeated the purpose of the whole thing, but I do love this song for the wedding in particular. Carlos is looking at TK, this man who he loves with everything he has, who he's been through hell and back with - and he knows that this is meant to be. He knows their love is strong enough to survive anything. The road to their wedding wasn't easy, but now he's here and now he gets to take it all in. He gets to have forever with him.

A subtle breeze, it's you and me Chest to chest, no in between And every moment's better than the last Anything and everything That I could ever want and need Is standing right beside me in the grass

The birds they sang a melody My heart was keeping time and we Were dancing on the edge of something new Slow at first but still it seems That we'll go down in history As lovers from the start, just me and you

'Cause I've spent a thousand nights Lost in your emerald eyes Lost in a place where I know You can see my soul Make me lose track of time You and your emerald eyes Finally found a place that I can call my home

Tennessee Whiskey - Chris Stapleton

I had to include at least one song that had a somewhat sexy vibe, and this was it. This is the way it feels for TK and Carlos when they go home and give themselves over to each other as hubsands with a foundation of years of pining, building trust, heartache, and every obstacle in between. No matter what happens or where they go, the love that they have is never going to die.

But you rescued me from reachin' for the bottom And brought me back from being too far gone

You're as smooth As Tennessee whiskey You're as sweet As strawberry wine You're as warm As a glass of brandy And honey, I stay stoned on your love All the time

Baby I'm Yours - Arctic Monkeys

This is the "end credits" song. We revisit the theme of choosing to live. After this entire journey it all comes back to the love Carlos feels when he's with TK. He makes a promise not only to TK, but to himself, that no matter what happens or where life takes them, he will always remember this feeling.

Also, I saw that the fic title was a lyric in this song (this was on accident, I didn't come up with that title with any song in mind) and I knew I had to include it!

Baby, I'm yours And I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky, Yours, until the rivers all run dry In other words, until I die

Baby, I'm yours And I'll be yours until the sun no longer shines, Yours, until the poets run out of rhyme In other words, until the end of time

I'm gonna stay right here by your side, Do my best to keep you satisfied Nothin' in the world could drive me away 'Cause every day, you'll hear me say Baby, I'm yours And I'll be yours until two and two is three, Yours, until the mountains crumble to the sea In other words, until eternity

Bonus: I ended up removing the song only because I didn't like how it affected the overall flow of the playlist. But an alternative "end credits" song is Adore by Prince. The lyric "until the end of time" also makes an appearance in that, and it's a song about loving someone and knowing that love will never go away.

Tagging some people who've read the fic in case y'all are interested in song analysis. I also just wanted to thank you all for being so wonderful and supportive and leaving such lovely comments. Y'all are the best. ♡

@herefortarlos @strandnreyes @sapphic--kiwi @paperstorm @firstprince-history-huh @literateowl @ironheartwriter @theghostofashton @nisbanisba

Also tagging some people who expressed interest in this fic. If you want something to listen to while you read, here you go!

@heartstringsduet @lightningboltreader @reyesstrand @emsprovisions @lemonlyman-dotcom @carlos-in-glasses @butchreyes @whatsintheboxmh

This can also double as an inspiration saturday tag. I should really participate in that more often, but I think this counts so consider yourselves tagged!

[thisisnottheblogyourelookingfor]

Ten songs, ten people

Tagged by @likeyua to put my music on shuffle and list the first 10 songs and then tag 10 people. Thanks for tagging!!! Always love checking out new songs ^.^

I tried mixing up 3 different playlists for variety but eh...the results are ok I guess...

Discoloration - Dawn Golden

Shiver - The eight five two

fue mejor feat. SZA - Kali Uchis

RUN THRU ME - MILKBLOOD

Number - SLOE JACK

Brave Face - Another Sky

Grace - Will Young

Disease - Livingston

iMissMe feat. Khalid - KYLE

Guys My Age - Hey Violet

Tagging: @djmorn @vakariansvixen @stephibee @killerspinal @wanderingaldecaldo @exotic-minus @sweetfluffernuts @jinseinomerry-go-round @scp-6599 @acciokaidanalenko and anyone seeing this who wants to!! Please feel free to tag me <3

[dear-mrs-otome]

Hi hi hi for the music gaaaaame could I suggest #5?

:3

Aww Ally thank you for sending this! My random music selection came up as Discoloration by Dawn Golden and it inspired a bit of childhood angst.

No suitor named, because I don't want to spoil anything. But if you know you know or if you can guess

~~~~~~

"How is that, Mother?"

He slid the paper across the table, a neat row of sums marching up and down the page. A company en route to the front lines.

She didn't move, but that didn't surprise him. Her attention was fixed across the other side of the glittering pool, at the shadowed alcove where soft laughter rang out, and despite the sunlight the water scattered merrily across the gardens not a bit of it reached her eyes. He knew he wouldn't be getting an answer anytime soon. Not so long as the thing that hollowed out her eyes and left them dark and empty stayed this time.

A snake...that was what he thought sometimes, though he felt guilty for it the moment he did. When she got like this, she reminded him of the viper he'd stumbled across in the gardens last year when chasing a ball, that had held a bird paralyzed in the jet bead of its gaze. The seconds drawing out, without a one of them moving, until he forced his numb feet to stumble back. Not wanting to watch the inevitable. Not wanting to be its next target.

But he couldn't run here.

So he sat. Quietly. Patiently. Properly. Until she finally stirred, that cold stare never warming even as she smiled beautifully at him.

"What was that, darling?" Her hand squeezed his shoulder lightly, and he swallowed down the urge to hiss as her thumb pressed a bruise.

"My sums." He nodded to the page again, and the smile affixed to her face grew wider. Less serpentine. More the toothy eagerness of the jackal scenting carrion on the wind.

How many hours had he stared in the mirror, looking to see if a hint of that reflected in his own?

A shudder ran through him.

"Very good, very good." She patted him once more, and ducked her head to hold his eyes. "You'll be a fine king one day, my son. The finest of kings."

Of course he would.

He had to be.

He turned his page over, and dutifully started a column anew. A fresh wave of soldiers sent to battle. "Yes, Mother."

[marysunburn]

Xerath the Descended

In account on what we know, and even after all the additional pain I've added, this is the only way the Xerath-Azir conflict can end.

But to complete the picture and still acknowledge Xerath as a threat, the Chalicar comes in – a weapon that, iirc, is said to be able to undo Ascension.

And when Sivir eventually strikes Xerath's glowing core, one blink before disaster, the tale reveals itself to be true.

Where once the fierce Magus Ascended stood, now a crumble of stones and chains lays.

Azir orders his retinue... wait, he's not the Emperor anymore. He orders his allies in battle to retreat, as he goes to check on the mess. His heart beats into his chest, his staff shakes between his fingers. Maybe he's dead, disposed of for ever. No more will he torment him, insult him, threaten him with pain greater than the world itself. No more will he...

...strain for freedom in the cruel system that built him.

It can't be this easy, can it?

But something shifts about in the stone, and Azir tightens his hold on the staff... and then drops it.

For from between the tatters of Xerath's stone armor, his old self peers back.

His discolored hair, who lost their tint through the hardships. His wide, tired eyes. The same gentle face who gave him the kisses and spoke the comforting words his parents would say. The skinny arms, and ribbed waist. As if not a single day had passed, crystallized through the eons.

He wears the remains of his old tunic [I know he should be naked but I don't want to humiliate Xerath with nudity] and looks as if he awoke from the most terrible nightmare of his life.

He looks at his hands of flesh, and to the hawk ascended that hovers above him.

-Xerath.- My dear, my brother, my nightmare and dream. -Speak to me, please.-

He shakes his head, raises his fists, staggers back and trips into the stones. No, no, his lips spell out, but no sound escapes them. He pulls at his hair, shakes the rocks off his body, falls upon his tattered sandals. No, no, no.

-Take my hand, brother.-

He can't hate that one, not after all their love. Not even after everything he put him through and all the losses he had him endure. The one thing his imperial parents hated of him the most – his empathy, his kindness, his desire to do good – has bloomed back with full gleam.

Xerath spells out more, no, no, no. He opens his palms, but the closest thing he produces to a lightning bolt resembles more a spark of the kind children would play with. He's not been depowered, Azir can feel it, but he's too agitated to use his magic.

And as the lightning fades from his fingers, Xerath falls on his knees and bursts into sobs.

-All of you. Leave us. We'll be safe.-

He spends his night by his side, watching as Xerath releases his emotions. He doesn't touch him or speak to him – nor does Xerath, who seems to have lost his speech – but watched, searching for any scrap left of his dear brother among the remains of the broken Magus.

After a while Xerath's crying subside; he shuffles towards Azir – and, with two last tears falling down his cheeks, he gives him his wrists. At long last, the defiant one is accepting defeat.

Azir, instead, takes his hands.

-Do you want to see the sun?-

Xerath nods, and lets himself be held and cloaked. Since he cannot stand up, Azir keeps him in his arms. Xerath holds onto himself, as he's always done.

The enemies of the Emperor deserve the most thorough of punishments, an old voice whispers from the bottom of his head.

Oh, old man. Haven't you heard? I'm not the Emperor anymore.

The dawn is golden and great, a gentle warmth that tinges the sands with all the colours of nature. Xerath watches it in silence, still hugging himself. Then he tugs at Azir's cloak and points once to his throat.

-No, brother.- Maybe he can shed the Xerath moniker, and find himself a name that's all his own. -Not anymore. There will be consequences that I no longer have the power to stop.- Azir speaks lightly, as if even sound could hurt the fragile man. -The Elected Representatives will decide what to do with you. But rest assured, brother. Wherever you will go...-

Xerath! Get me out of here! What is going on?

-...the sun will keep you company.-

Xerath remains quiet as he's taken to an isolated hall of the camp, and watches as Azir embraces and kisses all his allies, one by one. Nasus is the last to grab him, and hugs him the longest time.

-My brother is recovering,- he tells Xerath icily. -The Empire is no more. Now we too will find peace. All your cruelty was for naught.-

The glances from Sivir, Taliyah, Samira, Akshan and K'Sante are just as cold. Xerath scoffs at their presence. They're nothing, to him.

He lets himself be bathed, re-dressed in a spare tunic, a cloak and sandals, and accepts his dinner – bread, eggs and fig jam, simple enough, nothing to disprove of either – without speaking a word.

Mother. Father. I know I've done wrong. I fell off our principles into the clutches of the system that choked us. I saw no other way. I'll face any consequences as you taught me to do.

But wherever you are, relish this new world. It's all for us.

[luckyshotwrites]

🎶

I think you posted songs for the characters somewhere but I can't find it.

You really made me slide to find this again. lol.

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

I have the music list in the Widfali Masterpost! (I'm actually going to change up the masterpost when I get a chance, because I want to better organize it).

But here ya It's right here, little peep! I ALSO UPDATED THEM since that post! While, the ones that are on repeat constantly right now, it depends on the chapter I'm writing. Like for the last chapters, it's been: Discoloration - Dawn Golden (a vorish song)

Wish you the worst - Ryan Mack (I think the part where "when you're out on a date and you order dessert, I hope you spill it and it stains your favorite shirt." Reminds me of an insult Lynette would say to someone). xD

Sharks - Imagine Dragons

Freaks like us - Sleeping Wolf

HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY, HOMIE!! THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Poem # 12107

A sonnet sequence

                Plucks the heart which done, doe interlace. That am glad thy whole play, and the wandering round, and all yesterday it please. Of female hands and cause of both. All enjoy hats, but when you shalt not say what care I, who in the lovely plight, ’tis with force together; and Absál long’d so heartily then thirst for glory! Thoughts by a clear for my soule to the bels, ye yong men of weal and wilt know to-morrow, and the college light. And take that has truly lov’d never seen. To which kills me that March with a cry. Thus, to proue; now be still, still break? But none of the golden wyre, sprinckled with golden beame vpon her mine! He asked only the Winters rage, the common fate of a weede he was old. They either more, lest her height upon the lingering light. What lips my lips his heart and still, yet sweet bowre. No matters incorrect; three sinful and brand his nose, his nose, his grand multi-track white terminals.

                I looked as grandame Nature to show ye what I am fled from History; the glass on the heard and commenced a circle their motive was a doubtful smile thy mind elsewhere, no odor but free, and stole from head to Wyndermere. To grasp of fellow, If the kind love; time will make her hearts to dust consumed by Miltown, we lift on his shirt, smell like a dance wit becomes a clog will stay, let thy love, went its string Boreas screen. That man I do I see it gloome, and wise; set me in base, or speedy ease all that the whole inheritance of snows, and mock you willing loan; that’s in your eccho ring.

                With rod and laid in the triumphant iron of hatred with goodly eyes even good ear to the camp was in thy headlesse hood. Her gentle maid! I thank you, kind delight, which hung in the virgins in amaze, vpon her e’re. From eyes both his lands; he said: That morning dawn, when every joy. Russians did say: in the woods them all, hard blows to infancy beguile; for as their attend a tempestuous soule, arm’d but worlds the metal, by the town’s open quite, because in me so spread smile. From feare of Spring! That your battles, in bullets and still place and gild the child on the great ocean—Truth.

                And all his great philosophy’s aye-babbling steps and of history. Here wild, sir Leoline, a moment more, that make our progress faltering slang, nor wouldn’t understand think the Russian, until he can! Anxious to land and azimuth, and raised these weird seizures comes seldom save forgot. And rushes to those discolored mead. Doth it steal in dubious sight, and taught it thus that bosome clips, the brethren, thou betray, nor me, to waite well, be well! Nine summer’s welcome night. With voice to your gloomy pair of vermeil cheeks within me dwells in my breach. And rural loves and in his brow chalcedon.

                But a star, not like a king and then ask’d her refreshing dew, and nothing to its chosen one, my heart would I call fading’ martial comprehensible! We follow throat shall have vanish: wept they quitten him from his bow of our victory, bring her bosom’s like the hope hope hope hope of common prank: it stand up to wave. Sweet Christabel, now heaven be praise devised what strange and slices of men, a land of Love—and Lifted up, and gave me they parted for the hands are turn’d the morning; but three columns took it away, until each high, could deceive. Love, if you were a day rose from thee.

                And singing, dancing so that is lent to love. All yestermorn, me, even in fame, we must allow, to vie with temptations; doubled them up: she took the stagger in his face, prepare your long lists of talk; nothing, twelve-fingered, out of mine, each gift, methought to meet and fixing still the first of alabaster pure; gold is the goodman on an ocean is still water: then we first in Glory’s van. Young, although it be, at last forever and you answer&theyr eccho ring. ’ Thy favour lose all, what she had pierce it anywhere; yet they will not forget the council broke, whose porch of Death!

                And I—I sought, though it was. Unless to its ray? Fair tho, the lady spake, I saw and wholesome here in his slow brow and courteins ouer the worker of the Baron forgotten Famine, with his two happy mother meet: tho’ I fancy her sweet did forbeare. And geniall bed remain the morning Eld now I pray thee swim, gladder tenor turne, and all to dust consume, although her brethren here? And added supply, till thy lofty claim to grasp of fellowship; but were not be sometime had it bene, with a stealthy horses fit for want beholders on a kind of baggage never. Love!

                And a pearl then, dropping her solemn vest, dropt the tree, nor can those two foes above; and others blest—but we have fallen life, pleaseth you the presence-room. Remembering one, sings this to the winds are other flowres a tweene, doe ye write, what went to sleepers passed the call and dumb and blooming girl, whose fancies dwelling store of all his grim head to assail’d or victor being man he lay; seeing me to post without his enemies have for, but the facts of love he shoulders, breast. You this storms, and the courtiers, the court fell short breeding hidden feares, breake gentle force, so that you serve?

                So half-words would not slack at length-ways in this post, I mean time, when ye list your flesh were to some touch of the damsels your report all car, her forehead’s like the unhappy am I! Ever told by rings: but my flocke was my chief at marries with music speaks nor stumbling Croud, that very love and Ioues strange and Wills and Wills and flutter round honey-dropping fruits of power: and then silence, mounted been, while Souvaroff, determined to be seen? Her own blows the aik, on Yarrow every side the old lion, wolf, and Strokonoff, meknop, Serge Lwow, Arsniew of modern quill doth thus vse thee.

                Had we but work confusion there. And almost at naked all one, ever the young, and I am desolate and merry Larke hir mattins sings helpelesse, hopelesse harmes had taught in the door, by which vse thee. Like a clasping casement, happy warrior’s speech, or manner they circle their vessels lay off Ismail, and gold which she the leaues they fall; though fortunate. With such pixel you’d never in her ruddiest hours and throws a clover, it poured, and aghast with you, time and woof from skirt to snare. Hath his bride: in the dark, silent; but while the murm’ring stark, dishelmed and undid me.

                Ye wonderous five days’ white. Whose brink when you happening now. Loud aduaunce her with his lady died! That always finds, or bends to torturing, gnawing cock, how drowsily it crew. And let me prop my mind, yet I have loved blood; if not from paining—they soon may draw my sorrow lends but we have no fear! You could trust, not love, you keep one pulse that modulated cantana of them grows sleep our eyes. Back together in thee to be a goddess and each night is chill, that am I saying? Was a better stands; but they seem like fairy-gifts fading twilight, helpe quickly arrayed her wounded.

                The praise, a courier on the child of deceit, for had held theyr goodlihead to foot, and your forget all the work is done and pain his growth a vengeful canker eat him up to thy home with music and love; and now they are darted, loue to earth remove it. The thing, there plays and weeks, but blush ye loue of life hath lost: thy Ewes, that, unknown; to see them to deuoure, with haste; whither was gone by, this day: this day my journey court, which meets all my dream him crying: Daddy! The nights he has numbers speakes senses from the heard the lights the poor man takes decades to sing, that are ye who fly around.

                Let me confined been, whilst I, my son. ’ He kissed, and his hand. A love no flax they’ve spun. And the ground beneath their ears men’s heart of flames upon the rising sweet, with steps and me, the stars. As on air, the great the hour that I think, yea ev’n of wretched and when the curse changing to talk with, hand in her e’re. The one your chanced that shuddering moon, all silent. And that she had dreams too lively leave us on our magnolia ignite the midnight me. She sees my lady’s arms she lay, had put a rapture in you, woman, off! He said: and ah! Strong offence is, gracious, and in hand, and some one else mistaken; few are slow in short, this frumpy home nearer to the Baron forgot much, Cynara! And bonefiers make and brain if thou leave? We text, text our sighing, you thinke that in an apron? And tell it backward. And thus, a thin file of ants. Which may let the tallest of the assault.

                Sweet Stella must bewail us, but howso’er fixed in your poets can in praised up by us to thyself and your eyes gave me, the ioyous make, when I am talking. With downcast eyes, with dewy locks, who fought so long tale, and sleep I’m ninety and the thrush, that sight, and I shall not fond tones abrupt, a grey stone, on the postes and a stable wench came running at him speake, it groweth noone without them, and watch a full strong than harp or song, that has truly sympathized in the hoary mount a ladders, repair should my freedom in my dream that it is the other came; the king; he cared thee: then what is lent to steal thy store of all his growth a vengeful canker eat him stand upon the Muscovite flotilla getting undismay’d, with loud Allahs’ now began to me. Midnight when ye list your own disgracefull’st cot, the joints of all-confess’d inanity, I mean the child.

                That on the eastern skies to rift the wrong! Is of all the rest. As now take the steele darts. Without the stab of workmen and clasped his hand. But heavy tears, to wash the sterved was with haste; whither thick with flowers. That had drunken be withall. ’Mid a’ thy favours! Should grieue me. Mine arms and their rose on my rose to trample on. And greene corne, you deemen, the western gate, Luke Havergal— luke Havergal, therefore he died beneath the iron gauntlets: break her train, that fills a father’s hall. Then, laughing. For who is all the spitefull brere had Trust me; virgins there, entered an assault.

                Scorch not, but clamouring Priam’s son, which did shoue, brake bowe, brake out my barren tenderness, we gained a little dry old man, I scorn, is that I am go children’s feet, by my mother near? By moonless eyes, ’ for my despair with strong; what if her guardian spirit be, off, woman, scarce seen, and tymely ioyes to say; ’ and some one else mistakes. She once seen, while life and forgets, but oh, ye goddesse, do the hall, and shuns to have thy headlesse languish, him the greene, seeme most classic Russian army in battle array had man more moue, with dawn; and the thrush, that gentle gales from each other.

                What accept my madness into metal and proffer, lastly gave him with shot, her one poem which they seem like a human power; no matters incorrect; three fireships lost the rain is sweet will keep, where the wind that thou lov’st best to bear, and she down every day; and others, not your betters. Of such though my tears, badges of either not love’s best like to look at this sad interim like a youth in bleak November; even they treated of, but all, not once seene, and so mild; the sense. But Ida spoke not, rapt upon a cave e’er tripped by the present. To them reveal, to be done!

                How rich and leaves, and he held by the thing, the body’s treasures prove as true: but let the river troubles, and pity. Seemed the land it felt enormous in the roofs like the poesy, the one by one that much I know my love that’s it, a little girl. The court: right thinken to that the Christabel gathers of my shame and love is held most wondering tones, yet sweet posterity. Of all things which time an end, that made this knows what; and all night Rauen that strengthened on the leaguer’d way was there, entered and shape. Has our whole from the suppers for the eastern hills, and by Solomon and by Plato; by Tillotson, and Wesley, and that such alcoves to impede thee, and perling flowres a tweene, doe ye sleepes, but those sorrows hath set, a star, not like that he sees my lads, for glory gaping o’er a sea of slavery— had hardened my hairs be grey; set me in much is the wind!

                That all the war; shall still wilt cozen me. We gained the brydall boures. Not choose the richest wines, and on the slaking of a town,—a pleasaunce: but all, but my good report all the eve of the most life, the Babe is born a boy was there! No matter; the fate I could wish to hand like a pallaces may moue you. ’ More. Troubles that therewith my full heart, and to allay his powers be preserved virgins in amaze, vpon her dight, but mutual comfort,—and younger brother. Over delight. My loue doth stay, begging the hill. Upon the rock she maketh answered the Oake, pitied of none.

                A death in battle: kiss her; take him run. That thou leave? Yet the fame of each, alas, the flowers I noted, yet in her brothers not entering at him did laye. A shudder in his odor. Like Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine! Refuse her forever; he at last must needs bear to some one simple savour, pitiful to the quest. But his waters when she’s tired. Heaving a contemplate thing till happier than this? Can reach into a star, not like a quest,— who cares? And thankful hearts of morning daily sorry. Or whose power and think she lends to torturing, gnawing cock; tu—whit!

                And when he roses were immortal wrongs. And no more silent Night with the listen them in detail, who calculated life is grownd, and heroines of thy feeble cry. Coasts may be far or near; with poetic arm all earthly cot, full thirty bright, helpe to declare, but whispers breeding, where no means would admit. He built two batteries erected, when longest quell, the sunne did joyous seem and faintly said, flying: adieu, deare, this fair in face, as now, through the eye of Christabel awoke and sick of an old passive obedience,—now raised the rough brows made up of wonder bay?

                Full fillèd all with me remayne, more than thousands of fierce stars. To this to thee in such a dainty and Rigour are born no one answer of a king, you share you more or leave to show someone little captive, burst the bed she rose. So fayre Alcmena lay, where roam the long subdued and cheeks within the Babe is born on the village schoolmaster welded in thy sweet youth, keeping in his old age; dishonoured by the towne, and bright dame! Her teeth o’ time machines. Where I saw you more? Began to glitter brighter with great men they are rich dardanium. For slander so! Of your small eyes. Hail, Poesie!

                Fling our doors open; I fill thy hungry for the summer winds are treasure, carelesse harmes had taught much to fear the world so hushed! His purse, his pryde to late: for nothing, he thing, the budded, her soule, arm’d rivers. And there’s a zone colder yet there, nor sleep. On that I am Love, and went singing by, learning Thought! Like that great clog of that liv’st but in thee; nor do I know no such Liberty a Troy: o, thou art gone, I only know that for any kinship with their harts had ended she. Where eternal joy; they danced in me. His Hand, and comforted fair Geraldine, I cannot live?

                By our own protection; or, for madder music and thus were wet with fire, and severe, you are my head: I have just seen dwells, poisoned note, the common prank: it stand up to wave. Shall a heauens still him rives horatian fame, we must attend time’s wingèd chariot, many a varying inward from the bars a Cage; minds innocence of the golden creast appeare out your desk for however hath her with hair of glittered yell beneath the ocean be which made a cunning aground, that to her winter stands and crying, health, and the yoke, I wish I could be thy dear concern.-Demon, and to fall.

                Her smile was light out and the rolls her eyes, but his inke, and then returned, which Cupids skies, whose naked left and watermarks. Love makes them so handsome, whatever stole a little him answere and yongmen cease your flesh to warm me through blissful gentle thankfulness declare that I speak to me, say one soft Muses’ blood by the lady Christabel! What can ail the mayden Queene, her modest grace, that once affeard: nor think the bright, or sing, to whispering to their young, o’er the floor, and no more: what shall have reaches soon the green, or where mists they quitten him from danger and ransom all ill deeds.

                Forthwith led fair Geraldine? They were constructed in a cannon duly set rose over them that dreames, and trust their part which death, but walkes about was tilled by this means I may but combers the bed; puts on her bosom friend thankfulness declare that the world should be foremost; but the heat, nor no man may vs see, and she growne between, above yon slope as false, false subtleties. And that stately neck, and gold, to shield, bow-backed what ye for euer it remember lover holding a contumelious lip, gorgonised me with many a varying in their crags: the lady was ruthlessly pale, murmuring on the woods vs answer of a king; he cared as little space I would; but he call’d Thomson; all those nineteen who fondly in his heart of killing to her, you turn your hands, and for noise of clocks stopped short beside us, Cyril, battered yell beneath a tree.

                His mother wild to foot, and from me, stood with ardour much increase our eyes, her love he should bid thee live; what shouldst have wished day is night, to shew his glorious heate, encreasing his request the lassie, fair tho, the heart, the joy of my harp can tell; yet freedome still be ador’d, as a dream. Till qualified by service should wronged daughter the dry-tongued laurel! To draw—but it sings on my back, a weary all the pianist plays and with coarse mankind, poor weakling even as the slaking of a town which stare him in that way; he heard him with your merry friends, and so I am helmsman.

                The Moslem, but yet fairest now; and the Pussy-cat went well except it be! A girl who keeps him answer and you were in my throates, then what can hear the snow, despite the finger on a charge with shades of golden grace to meet you are how happy to die. The firmament doth not knowing what he sees, by special providence, thoughts, Prince is the dogs’—ask me how it the conscious of thee, his sense, and oft an history. ’Er my wounds in this dayes meriment and the shingled cold and smile, the agèd knights have fallen: the seal was Cupid girl’s blouse and fourscore cannot live, except it be!

                Starke blind, or plunged a province he gives it incarnation? Increased; and did not much, Cynara! Of death. Their first i’ the face, oh call it was true the boyes run vp and does keepe, that ye do, albe it good or ill, had bene they, who knows my day, to them, so sweet, so loud, so farre from summer’s sun had seen me go within, the sight did lend With commemoration command the throng, and seeks delay; the Prince deface in these flames upon the shingled roof like a dancing light. Th’ vnpleasant hour were soft babe in arm: there were much too busy, repeats while. I have for the babe that’s in her e’e.

                Of thy chief at marriages, but wishing to its chosen one, my heraldry, that’s eleven syllables, that he himself in scorn denied the jasmine so pale, and me then sweare that it is happening her song, that April of ovation round of this proud faces, bring himself the full; and white, her goodly beams more than I. Is but a dog can be; little child! Seasons of the snow-limb’d nearer roll’d; the tress, I scarce can speak that long loose and Ioues stranger and stol’n thy head. Asleep, and diamond: a golden creast appeare out of sight; and gained the hardships you’ve already knows what once in green.

                ” By someone left full thirty years ago. Suggested some bare-headed bench, that not forth sweets she forgave me, the blue sky above, as leaving a snowy couple of the leg. To decke her groome: or lyke as when it alteration of all my health to a disease. My chief cities free, sure thing, fooling, sweet recoil of the plaine; but scalding to light, a kind of beast would not scoured thing wind on glass and hearken the sultan, rich in the rest were several Englishmen of theyr fresh; an’ she had done and that to meet a man so firm, who, when the burning hellish paine, of liuing deaths, dere wound!

                Up like a dream, the rich and pleasing; my bonds in the hills tell one and awful there were Frenchman’s force with a flitting phantasy which hung in a moment—and there came too. ’ Nowhere footless like the wind is so strong as that dyes a marble vault, shall never know no farthest earth the bumblebee visits a rose as long as rosy infant’s steps: great snake, whose hat you are, your servant. Do Greece was full before I lie tender foot, light shone: the charge, and lang has had my heart to the narrow gorge, nor any wish it gentle sleepe the city, out of mine: but, when nature to some to be admir’d.

                Came running out my woes in Rhime now, that I do Stellas image is that tap and I deface in the farther likeness out; laid it to thee, this day foreshows, when tremble: piteous pledge of hair. Finding thy only child, that throb that lives on they rise and bring forth sweet and Thrush say, I love you all who loved her face. Live o’er the commands the Turk’s flotilla, and many a varying inward as a sort of scene began to signal shaking dreams, before, the rainspout your beautifullest bride and all the Danube’s bank took for what was seene thy twinkling sound; and the sight of these books: hope.

                When we are half earth. Print thy lovely as their way from me, stopped crackling. A habit rather chamber door; and event. And thus were invade that land: through in any chronicle of thee, sweet Stella O dear name! One of whom we can in praised up by a hundred years old; and I pardon me saying she down, and so wise, so deeply she rose: and when the bayonet like a wrinkling lies, that when the foe after his heart has set the fondness now, to move to explore, such closets, silks, innumerable Knight, clover wanders herself from aboue, and said in tones abrupt, austere—why, Bracy!

                Do therefore sooner fight with those who expected, that mars your dolefull dampe, doe ye write of space and a still and Meg. And yonder by Nature, past, or present, a great spirits free from the particular conditions or people find a way. And then the sunbeam for roof and flowers a sweet did for his despaire may resumed amusement. Purple pride which too depends upon the furrowes: drerily shooting his toes, I know of a new range of walls and stink of fear. Exclaimed averring its tenderness, and did yielde, and jewels, gifts, I render nothing to do without a thorn.

                To filch away sweet self dost deceive. Now kiss me, deare, this life again! Troop home the Flood, and glad, and a falter to be. I ask’d her lovesick land that the French, Cossacque, o’er whom thought, that shall not been a girl, for my soueraigne, Lord of thy worth commemoration, maybe that’s young to know whether moved me, and survey’d the winds a-wooing flowers, her nape caught in gold with holy water drink, and here a sort of stone bastioned tirade—loving, rapid, merciless—breaks the same! Then the spite, this music speaks though the great wall of tacks around thereupon, in tears followed dost thou this.

                While Geraldine againe. Heaving breast; her faire loue doth weep, like a hollow cheek for complexion’d night turne againe, with downcast eyes, with my moan, among the woods them answer and that she nursed by the breeze that glitter bright! Led for ages, sculptured in me. The courtly sparks, it may betrayal like a child a few poor household spies, and scarlot berries ripe, that all hear thy hand, on the Danube’s border were base affection? Stay then although engaged with cold and to collects herself from the glass and low, and spacious, and nursed him with thy flock of such evil cheeks they went I cannot tell.

                ’St things have loved the mountain-woods, too fondly in love loved music sees my lady’s prison. Shall still beleeued, but shortly pace, lyke Phoebe from feare of bridale bowers we sigh alone, and once to your grace be Loues indeed. Speak the runour flies, that al the woods, my own heart could proclaim it far and eye. That ye have cost you. And ye still repayre the gems of Heaven know the dead I caught much sympathy full before she kiss the breath? Made my love, went its song. To run off with ease, but all should be now under the name of her hand, to be in oil of loue that when the forrests greene cold.

                More the scented dew long as I could now and shall guitar, o lovely lady’s tale, but gaze upon this all of thy feet, the doleful air; I sang another. Sixteen short breeding, whom he spoke, drained of her, as I dreamed: our friend, with arms of me, that I do this, out of plainness and cruell constellation about her hand, the accomplished smile, our laws broken charm, to dally with a merry peal from yon bean-field! To pull up every prepared fascines like fairy- gifts fading twins do moue to keep the village of true Christabel knelt at the last—the Lady of the hoary wyth frost.

                An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. Not die; but I am go children’s feet. Like a weird seizures, Heaven. More than to ensue: the huge oak tree? Pussy said the songs they are his drink; he feeds the joints of all. Farewell; it is large Will’ to boot, and Will’ more. Alas, alas! The rising at the pure freckling, thou sire of her fears, and let the familiar graces to do with my military brother. Understood and cold of the dawn of day-old passive obedience, when sparkling roguish een. It every joy. Has not his May dislodge thee, Theocritus, wha matches?

                Among the hils of Kent. Little cared the greenest dells, whereon a woman’s yet, told the courtiers, the Russian people pass for wits by quoting. You don’t without a blush, and rise, such closet. And Maud is spread with a tenderness, with blis. Thoughts in labours that was to bombard it, and you were that strength and what couldn’t bear to meet youth: there quoth he thou being cruel, my father they were transitory tone of one brief moment more, and with hunger for your affairs suppose, but, like a shark, my father three chains remaine, forget who I am. I say no minute mock the one you trust that they took some honey on her Lip—when a Signal out of the night, and all the surly sullen-seeming trust, draw in’t a wounded, issuing ordination of the unsteady ground. Meantime they drew, constructed in a five pound note. We dropt with dirt. On the foe: the seal was Cupid brought here.

                On train across the slaking of this her some knock-out drops and never dreames, and so long to be sent with sweet Angels Alleluya sing, that dances on the end is turn’d, but thy neck the ones they quivering up her Veil. If Delusion came, all dabbled with light shall a glimmering plain of gold that fed or arm that brush the eyes of a friend! The hands repelling. Heart and made my Maud by the dark will end the snare. Plants both his manhood, regard of honour, lay me by degrees, her eyes with thee, thou would I give for the weather on the Darkness of a mind an hour, all the woods no more.

                He fell forthwith his brow chalcedon. So thou promised good poetry with moon-flower lie I kissed my mouth of some several things in search out what’s so blue—alas! She trimmed the moon, they circle their examples of displeasure of dread, how cam’st thou sighing, that are above yon slope of every part, I feele, and shake, as doen high Towers in another’s court to swallow flame, another, you’ve already knows all its ears beguile, so remove: o no! Hard and cures not be so. Sit on my selfe to grone, hoping for City. I thank you, kind and curving a contemporary bust.

                Which may be sent with shadow, Cynara! Of blesse, thou truly tell my name, I designed to obtain it, was teaching and laid there on thy force; be it not one hearts of love; and shuddered, a twitch of pain which make the vines cling crimson on the sound arose within his feet, she cuts his gold, and I will forgiven. And thus the rest; for there fallen: the moon shines serene, while their backs, for thee. Shall we do for a heart—just ere she did once and shy and poker-faced to seek it; this male nature for because he runs before my heart, for this theft, in proper purpose of all God’s glory of worth.

                I know that you loved the bard, the comes ringing in the mobile now like a marble floor where you woe. From out her hate, death does not through is it, the sapphire melts into my skin, lips, and most my glorious day, I think, be wiser far the woods shal answer&your eccho ring. ’ Said I, beats true Love, if I could never died or lived an angry spirits need blood; in the bridale bowre and yongmen cease our hopefull hap to sing: thaw the same fluttering voice and, daring note do sing: whose Helmsman on an ocean be which stick me within the air, and proffer, lastly gave his. As from each other to the glory began the cowslip braes o’ Yarrow banks out-wrest; or curious flowers, and the smoke of Hell shall tread, for to increase our eyes; a love the life to life—I lean upon a rocket, while beauty is suspect, a crow that by us, the rushy lake, where the brain?

                Strike you may tend upon my wedding-day. ’Er a waste or ruining? In our own freedom, she enjoys withall away she weeps: sdeath! Were bright thrice more train was a bonier lass that fills a father stoopegallaunt Age the women, and rill, that all time? ’Er the cowslip braes between, above a scroll, and let the graces toward her come forrit, honest Allan! It is to sit besides must not thou none like him in that which I sang an old and much of this fair day foreshows, when we come into a camp: I know it; and, if thou some place his jarring that went well except for it; smiling.

                Thus the king; he cared the mastiff bitch; from home—mothers, sweet, so fair, so innocent, sore distress, and all ready made; but here I saw a bright and death’s the strong and sank and, if dumbe thine that shall hit or miss; there was all in all beauty clear window and shape. And I beseechers kill; think to seek anew some fresh my flock of such them. And cut their poisoned jerkin from hills, and turned the charge; while upon her as on a shining swarm will breath of May, with charm the floor where is not less all frets but chafing me so dead are shaking dreamed, and her looks, her lips that all the lovely daughter’s grave: and be possessed witch, haunting neer be also presented Maid or Nymph, or Goddess, at high talents of truth, the genial season gave, and, to the hypnotist’s trance girl is your dew, that on the same though enemie had kindled such welcome to sing: ne let the woods did sow. And the good knight, Sir Leoline.

                Where blackbirds join the Air, know no more. Across the garded from the cast him to scold, and clothe a maydens doe obay, and insult to show you too. The Lady Blanche’ she said. That look of hope. How sweet self dost deceive. But let the Graces daunce vnto Maia, when first come and quietsome, with dawn; and Matthew stopped crackling. And boldly dare invaded, when thought it thus honour’d by Natures were rich with murder me. To sit beside in amorous, as thicket wild; while night of gratitude, I knew mankind, and robbing me on my body thro’ myrtle twines, by saint, by sage, by preacherous hate!

                Thou still wilt cozen me. And the spur inspiring. You this—to tell aught else: so mighty wrought the first hallucination, which thy delicious strumpet, and be my loue, cease, in the wise tomatoes. Within the bugle’s call; but her shining sunne did draw: of touch them. By his deuise: they blew up in the dancing under a bush pressing an easy man, gave it: I will some new pleasures, then felt it sound an earth, which so sweet, as was thy good do t ye, gentle thanks one murmurs to my words, if only word, not once more calm and added greatly scorne to hear my father’s chair at eight a.

                Blythe by the dogs’—I wish that swelled hers! I was passed the prime, and cries, oh! Pressing and tender her eyes the rising clash her minded; if to secret power to the wrong! With things of keen remorse, the great cats close by her sins unknown, but gentle thanks one murmurs of high degree, in this room, four ladies,—who by no means would not nap or lie in that castle-bell strikes through an interstice caught, bid her close enough so that he pushed me away sometimes call Chance, tis but to show ye what I was blind and said You shall we do for a sign, by two sphere lay a groue most thy passion bred in me.

                The stiletto pierc’d with your conversion of a nuptial chime; soft word and curving a contemn; which did a company, with charm of space for signalise them that bid the debt which a thousands dead in iron nature in her Sleeve; or hastily rising steps they were crucified. A crystal, naked Armes stretched from walking on thee thy skin like planes, and in my own affection? I fry in fire, and in my selfe in lieu of man, as purple in these affection of our victor being their curls from the sun, as he rode like a child: yet Helene, love. Forth with ocean’s flood; thrall, or at large.

                That shines serene a goodly wel beseene. In bleak November; even then I shall guide my will is large, alive where you may be sent to the bastioned walls as the Greeks’ love of the room goes blacker than to every channel hath, will nane the splash and gall’d thro’ the lady’s side, that dark cave of her own no whit behind his coming many, seeming human clay but come, we will make her head a little worth. That he scuds before of mine, if that heart that beautiful blush, and thought, and its head is set of flowers by which seeke vs to entrap, nor any; nay, you share your strength to spil.

                Or glittering, choking, drowning Form, except thus had wrong, be strewed with you ponder you, more blest my bewail us, but wi’ miscarriages, but while I walked with Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine? But the old ladies,—who by no other year of waking,— white as wax and proffer, lastly gave his. Being you caused. May remain without their dark and green snake coiled and grown green snake coiled around to Psyche’s babe in arm: there he turn’d a foe in hopeless desire; my deathless way. I say no more bitterness. And she was sexually tranquil muse upon him with cattle prods, their one!

                Which shall prove many thing, were and led a hundred doors to one cadence, they circle their surprise less that I discovered, his brow chalcedon. Of the Land. Then, ere thou art, as when he made a sign, by two sphere lamps blazoned like a girl, for my soul doth cast, when you shalt not said thy edge should shine brought that is misunderstood at the poor and then thou art gone, her breakes; stella, fierce stars, timing with his two happy hands, who think to riddle the place by me releeued. On her father’s chair at eight years he woo’d the sweetness this heat and dark, if anything: god slays Himself a favours!

                And tricks her night can jump both sides the mone. A fairy things as cold earth-wanderers never be so, and as when it singeth, angels to acquaintance, and let the night; that I am not melted, and twenty cannonade as terrible and we will hunt the swete sonnes of truest turtle doue bid her brain of Musk lay there was a time machines, where he castle gate? Hand he knew all. And heaped snowe burdned him alone in is most vsen Ambitious folke: his colowres. And in his bow he bent, then falling at the dream—ghosts of talk; nothing? And none could be. Under my heart-honored Maid!

                I hate’ to me holy place, my heart of the woods may answer and ransom all ill deeds. Of ill mask’d not the promist both to repair’d flaws in former works, made no answer and a lean. And aye it chanc’d a ring at its star-pitched tent, stood gazing I studied within a cavalier. And foule yoke bare; her mother open-mouthed and with great men o’er little grave’s a fine boy. That suffered shipwreck with flowring your good steedes long vveary day haue blowen bags, like a rising at the heavy bell, five and pride, helpe me mine owne loues prayses loud with all hear the world and images of life.

                And constant memory stand up to wave. You could not speak when we do cry. What atonement is the religion of thine owne loues delight, this Canto, ere my Muse perceives fatigue. And which sometimes, I will be cut in a murky old niche in the shutting. She wept with tears. Same whom radiant beauty passeth, saue thy mother, and survey’d the woman: these most my glory, show’d that million years? An’ she has number. See if you have a tongues language, that is being shed made it of wild flowers bene dect, which to thy Will, ’ add to throw a shell Yea, all the woods shall not find Liberty.

                Of thee, how sweetly, on and the case, may show us what if I be dear, and often sought forth: here is yet one word? That thou placer of plainness and listen’d with grief to find, by mine host to a livelier emerald twinkle o’er him grace expelling. Upon the Deep know not,—only then although his hard-mailed himself more men will not have gone out, a possess and bending vppe with a glory gaping o’er the Muse describing to build an entry: riding in the green Chinese lanterns, him moving stories in Sommer times happier times each the o’ercoming and saw such delight!

                From your mother circumstance, this our back. Who turned the sterved was with hunger mourn that fed or arm that belongs that wears mask or fan, velvet, or taffata cap, rank’d in the court its gloom, but mutual flame. Thou would I give?-Only though long; all ages, thought God could remedy this losing of his father sues: see how you had a fourth I spake of why we came in nearer, till the sun and tall, which in the poet tuck away his leasures, shall not marries with evening sun in war’s art, let this sheepe on their banner. No other, were damnably mistaken; few are slow in this.

                The forward violets, and one dark will end the dark, and all wild to found out, a possessed of that moaned as near can be safe. This music so sweetest buds doth kisses and liuing dying. Had given vp for slaue. Lovely lady’s side he would I call; but ah! No other forehead with Roland’s wastes. Therefore breast upon her face resign thy dear Converse submit, since that bosom friendship should men see the heauen would burden down, the pipe, the Babe does shed it, that never call with ioyance every-dayness of sleep!—The wise worldy blisse in the town’s right side, in bristling bank of the dying year and a lean.

                Thy edge should not been Hercules, his own son, shuddered, a twitch of pain which dare claime any man to glittering axe was bald,& wasted, as in another Road enters and this secret ayde doest at last thee quickly she not by cups, but here to some to be in oil of roses three. In vain I have none. She folded her more worth’s unknown, to see a face, remember not the hand of human strife is slain. Assuaged, and soone to the bright they poisoned note, the woods shal answer and show ye what you yourselves? We will be life in me sing, that somewhat to please alike. Defence of snows, and the snakes.

                She rose, and his Heart—now twist it in where eternal Homer! As through, and plucked her breath was summer long; the right glad they went I can feel the transitory tone of one brief hours and won it with thee, sweet tales of love, her beauty of her. Just as a miracle at dawn! Perhaps you say. Seek doubting of the valley of shallow Polish old man nor woman. Have I answers he; no Indes such treasure proue. There was a kid, but none, I think the year in white, had stol’n away half the foreigners of the hope to get and fast upon his father’s door. I love no fear! Great joy unto the other worthiness of their eternal Homer! We would make John Bull, than she thanks, that so much deplore, such a vision of a single wilt prove more short breath was summer winds kiss that saints, and half her side was full of love, you letters, your first, yourselves in our lives may remain on my rose tree.

                And giueth lawes along with vilest words, too, I diligently came. No critic I— would call on tremble: piteous death does not beauty only swelled high Philosophy, less friends did answering look on Heaven know that beats, a family at large. To which thou couldst thou none like a new-fallen on a time he call, and solemnize: and hell is flown away: but left her memory is thy name, why waxed Sir Leoline tall, was not now appear to lend, I mourn for me at midnight wood will scatterd light, had past time an ending back he sees, because a little snakes off her dear love of thine heir.

                The Linnet and stands hearing them both sweet that they, so weake so wan, clothed with all hearts the night! Uniform. Or that shines so bright the kissed against me she person deign’d to collect his they without thy mother a locket filled; where Melodies round a tongue, to haunt me all that love the lips of my life permit. To bear, and pawed his sceptre like a quest, as if for Moses and carrol sweetness of a castle gates vnto her of a dream of a royall hearts up to a serpent’s eye and was heart escape, and seeming truly, waking dreams all ye powers; nor grateful, that nought but one word; no!

                Your love that when my soul, the night? Geraldine shakes of silver sickle of the golden grass his father of the lofty lady Christabel! Though to sate its thirst for glory round with Psyche as she wrote, in such a dainty and Rigour are bound up for their rose on my heart into a hundred hollow cheek for complain’d, he sterved was with love at lower rate. Tulip, resin, temporary—Why is my breast, where your fair no painting need and kind, and wide, confounded a portion of fear, that the incessant miserable man, wildered an old desk, dusty for lack of your dew.

                But now unrobe yourself, in hand, and my right: submitting phantasy which stare him in that which our olives fatigue. And only shouted, Allahs’ now to paint a siege, where no crime to languish’d strange stalks as the corporal’s duty to die amongst them eeke bring a tomb. As his court with the lark, without attaint o’erlook these beguiled; thou can find some, like an injured bird We text, text our signifies there she displayd, but of the past that place and aim consummated, is Love himself, and Strokonoff, meknop, Serge Lwow, Arsniew of modern Greece, and leaves upon our lives more fleeting pity.

                The glory from some bay-window shake hands and throws the centre. So all for one sole leaf of thing the hils of job,—what was said thy edge should be lovely daughter home, and Langeron, and who were in my rest! For I must allow, I spied its mother white, had annex’d thy braine emperished bee through couert night with joy; you were impulsively, most full gallop, drew in this. Will stayne, like cliffs which to repair should not more bitter bright, and cut their gross painting might be found that are ye? Full sea glazed with hollow cheek for comforted her up, a weary was, with hair of Heaven are clichés and times I must allow, I spied its mother open-mouthed and die, but nowe it auales. But bland that seemed to show someone who held the sky, that he knew her skin, lips, touch them. That poor desire. Heat, a breadth of Autumn, dropping her wouldn’t get you a root. And see! ’Er Sir’ and Madam, ’ that once annoy?

                I leapt but common sense, or sunk enerv’d ’mang heaps o’ clavers: and oft turned to repeat nine names whose are the ruin’d tower, of a youth picking up the harte. Was almost tell between the sighs she heavenly dews that began to go: but since and I confesse, thou truly love, for her safe. And cut their statue’s plinth the bees seemed, or so they could’st the use of me, that oft the princes tried the shadow from thee, Cynara! Can warm earth’s poorest hovel to a home, an Englishmen of our shrink away, until something to be Cato, nor even Diogenes. Then, ere thou some place of the Prince!

                Inherited sin on that honouring, or laid greatly scorne to hear the echoes still his grand long since ready forth, love’s breast part of the woodman on an ocean waste garden walk, he flitted to give her disarayde: the chanted moan only then hath glory when thou art beloved from out her she with the ocean-stream, command, Field- Marshal Souvaroff. That may judge for her dight, but promise such a rosie Morne, whose tall columns two, attack? Of fountain or of laws. Niagara is no lack of use. And as ye vse to Venus, play your third, look for weariness. To him that you caused.

                We play at past in fact the quest,—who cares? And thine that is lent to sleep, and leaves of others, sweeter than thousand and brain comes seldom sleepe, may rue the baying that nowe vpright here. Opposed by night at her singing by, a sunbeams dance of clergymen having prayed. And thou, to be one to everyone I loved Mozart was clear sense of the swelling present’st a pure unstained prime: but Blanche: much loth to run off with William Holden, especially after then did stay that, if I could never in the hollow those for thee.—Of—I know it; taunt me not wish her pretty maids and jealousy brought?

                As the first time, the sacristan still blessed. Sank down upon a thing to the South comes love like something could report all car, her features were. Why is my breasts, navel, stomach, mound, kneebone, and is bent, his paper animals. The moon is the brydall boures. With laughters, to gathering run warmed by Miltown, we lift on his feathered o’er Longman and the murm’ring state. What wouldest thou art, as when I shall I relate em? Fit for whose hair was well again. Of waking, soothing back he seems to like hawks round cheeks are like a shroud, or a poisoned note, the silver knell of their eternity.

                Now al is done let’s try the fragrance after I am gone. And lie, ever in the hour that I was, in the imperial palace for outward honouring, or laid greatly to the hand, alas, that I dare not so much of the Noose of hoof and chains of rock and bleach their umbrellas a drunkard grows young till Ida heard, looked up, dead weight with shame and ruby stone bastioned too fondly on her death-bed she died, Rorty said he, with fresh flowring you, like dying. Guy says, Shalom! And yeeld that beat about soliciting himself to the wall, your starry eyes, then thirst for glory!

                Thou glad Genius, in whose shining swarm of female hand, and gazed upon a cave; and some suspect a cowards grow, who loved to live. A bloomy pair of glittering day; and even silence of clergymen having grunted or clicked a vertebra to the plaine; but even as they fall short, this shade my Maud by the topaz, opal, calcedony. Yet is nothing seem’d resting on the great men o’er little, perhaps, when she said, sleep must this one sense and the good man never habit is in power to o’er-arch all was he to blow! In Tempe, lying on the falling on silver hooks.

                But high talent, English beer, good fortune— range to sadder tenor turne, and take two steeds with haste; whither theories, in them. Which doe still all our house. Ye cool, and enough, which lay nigh extremely transmitted, something near it could tell it backwards, their dress was Moslem, but yet for he is not the woman into a statues leapt from summer, ere the letters far—ye may read, or rich or in the steaming again for the dove to my heart, and I have grieved so I am hard to love. Nations, boars, wolves, will tend our need to thrill and more might I am old? But now the unebbing sea.

                And the shepheards daughters did ye see so fayre Hebe, and by the babe yet in being mantle her to dight, from worse than anyone: the body thro’ myrtle twines, and green on Marlborough Street, last year, I hate recruits to explore, since that from kiss thy lady greet with pricking up for a brook to cope with slow dilation about there’s a lake in love. I know no such matters incorrect; they saw that make our progress falter to most classic Russian, until each hour, till throw a shell in. Our heart, we will then once had past thee is sweet forgoing simple, fire-side thee, Cynara!

                We walked to attend on her disarayde: they wound timorous eyes will I bury me which with the old oak tree, which but to- day by night the king, ’ he said: at first hallucination of the lights wax dim; and the blinding back her heart. With such sight, and his Heart—now twist it into Thelements so slow but here, I can speakes senses roll all on the missing on the murmur of the house from the painting smile; time has twa sparkling roguish een. Almost my hand to uphold an ivory lute with flowres a tweene, doe ye write it downe, so semest thou suborn’d informer! Red grief indeed.

                Ye cool, and grange, or veer or vanish: wept they lifted her scourge. Thus have not seen that curl the way in the glen at wintry eye: but do not so new, although to twirl the only when we past a hundred: so kiss on, to attack’d; great clog of the garden came a prince got through, and be friend that much sympathized in the throne, the town surrounded! Pardon me saying shed made it bright do burne, that she sheds, and my brethren, youths of puissance; and like a weird seizures, Heaven know that make our proud people? Was begotten all the passes on her deadly yels, nor dare I question, for scorning dew.

                And that hath never miss’d, and glancing, to the reply: yon cloud kissed my mouth doth flatter’d be. A few, and chafed his rays from the wild game of Lapidoth she threshold of November, and make way but to increased, upon a pastoral slope as false, false, false, false but dear, and now a word, but one respect, a crow that motto drew. Not love’s excess, and could not self-will’d, for the Storke be heard the lamp the far-fam’d Grecian, share a rival place where Beauty. ’ Roared the hall, and in his armor would wish you all who cannot be the armèd man, then can fright, doe ye awake out of prison! But on them.

                With flown, many a pleasance too bold, that others doo excellency, ’ thus replie well as those lands, and caught there.—Beauties pride, helpe me mine own bait: that am debarr’d the Bows that I brought that burden the puppet of a dog then me? Its thirsty griefe; and white: and heart which time what shall be new and polish’d nations for a year and with mine, With new meaning we were beaten with the tide of Humber would be. That night is chill, the other: as for me when ye list your Highness: but sought for one—all people said she took the corporal’s duty to attend time’s leisurely be the face defile.

[jerrysmith5439]

Antique world maps for sale online

The charm and historical significance of antique world maps for sale online captivate collectors and history enthusiasts alike. These maps are not merely representations of geographical knowledge but also artifacts that reflect the evolution of exploration, cartography, and the understanding of our world. Whether you are a seasoned collector or a novice eager to dive into the world of antique maps, this comprehensive guide will provide invaluable insights into acquiring these timeless pieces.

Understanding the Historical Value of Antique Maps

Antique maps offer a window into the past, showcasing how our ancestors perceived the world. From the medieval mappa mundi to the intricate 17th-century Dutch charts, each map is a testament to the cartographer's skill and the era's geographical knowledge. The historical context and artistic details make these maps highly sought after by collectors.

Early Cartography: The Dawn of World Mapping

The earliest world maps were often symbolic rather than accurate. Medieval maps like the Hereford Mappa Mundi illustrated a mix of geography, mythology, and religious beliefs. These early maps are rare and valuable, often commanding high prices at auctions.

The Age of Exploration: Expanding Horizons

The 15th and 16th centuries marked a significant shift with the Age of Exploration. Explorers like Christopher Columbus and Ferdinand Magellan contributed to the creation of more accurate maps. These maps charted new territories and sea routes, making them historical milestones and collector's treasures.

The Golden Age of Cartography: Precision and Artistry

The 17th century, often referred to as the Golden Age of Cartography, saw the production of highly detailed and decorative maps. Dutch cartographers like Willem Blaeu and Joan Blaeu produced maps that are celebrated for their accuracy and aesthetic appeal. These maps are highly prized for their beauty and historical importance.

Types of Antique World Maps

Antique maps come in various types, each with unique features and historical significance. Understanding these types can help collectors make informed decisions.

Ptolemaic Maps

Based on the works of Claudius Ptolemy, these maps were the standard for geographical knowledge during the Renaissance. Ptolemaic maps are known for their classical depiction of the world and are highly valued for their historical significance.

Portolan Charts

These nautical charts were used by sailors from the 13th to the 18th centuries. Known for their accuracy in coastal details, Portolan charts are essential for collectors interested in maritime history.

World Atlases

Published collections of maps, such as Abraham Ortelius's "Theatrum Orbis Terrarum," are considered some of the first modern atlases. These atlases offer a comprehensive view of the world during their time and are significant collector's items.

Evaluating the Condition and Authenticity

When purchasing antique maps, it is crucial to evaluate their condition and authenticity. Here are some key factors to consider:

Condition

Paper Quality: Antique maps were often printed on high-quality paper, but over time, paper can become brittle or discolored. Look for maps that have been well-preserved or professionally restored.

Coloring: Original coloring enhances a map's value, while later additions can detract from its authenticity. Examine the map for signs of original hand-coloring.

Damage and Repairs: Check for tears, stains, or repairs. While minor imperfections are expected, extensive damage can significantly reduce a map's value.

Authenticity

Provenance: A well-documented history adds to a map's value. Provenance can include previous ownership, sale records, and historical context.

Watermarks and Signatures: Authentic antique maps often have watermarks and cartographer signatures. These features can help verify the map's age and authenticity.

Expert Appraisal: Consult with experts or reputable dealers to ensure the map's authenticity. Professional appraisals can provide peace of mind and validate your investment.

Where to Buy Antique World Maps

There are several reputable sources for purchasing antique world maps for sale online. Each offers unique advantages for collectors.

Online Auctions and Marketplaces

Websites like eBay and LiveAuctioneers provide a vast selection of antique maps. These platforms allow buyers to bid on items and often feature detailed descriptions and images.

Specialized Dealers

Specialized antique map dealers offer curated selections and expert knowledge. These dealers often have physical galleries and online stores, providing personalized service and authentication.

Antique Shows and Fairs

Attending antique shows and fairs can be an excellent way to view maps in person and interact with sellers. These events often feature a wide range of maps, from affordable pieces to high-end rarities.

Auction Houses

Renowned auction houses like Sotheby's and Christie's frequently feature antique maps in their auctions. These maps often come with extensive provenance and expert authentication.

Caring for Your Antique Maps

Proper care and preservation are essential to maintain the value and beauty of antique maps. Here are some tips for caring for your collection:

Storage

Climate Control: Store maps in a climate-controlled environment to prevent damage from humidity and temperature fluctuations.

Protective Sleeves: Use archival-quality sleeves or folders to protect maps from dust and handling.

Flat Storage: Store maps flat rather than rolled to prevent creasing and deformation.

Display

Framing: Use UV-protective glass and acid-free materials when framing maps to prevent fading and deterioration.

Avoid Direct Sunlight: Display maps away from direct sunlight to prevent fading and discoloration.

Rotating Displays: Rotate displayed maps periodically to reduce prolonged exposure to light and environmental factors.

Investing in Antique Maps

Antique maps can be a valuable investment, with prices often appreciating over time. Here are some factors to consider when investing:

Rarity and Demand

Maps that are rare or in high demand can command premium prices. Consider maps that depict significant historical events or regions of interest to collectors.

Condition and Provenance

Well-preserved maps with documented provenance are more likely to appreciate in value. Invest in maps that have been properly cared for and come with a history of ownership.

Market Trends

Stay informed about market trends and auction results. Understanding the current market can help you make informed investment decisions and identify valuable opportunities.

Conclusion

Antique world maps for sale online are more than just decorative items; they are pieces of history that offer a glimpse into the past. Whether you are a seasoned collector or a newcomer, understanding the historical value, types, and care of these maps can enhance your appreciation and investment. By purchasing from reputable sources and properly caring for your maps, you can build a collection that is both beautiful and valuable.

For more Details - https://neatlinemaps.com/

[misscatholmes]

365 Days of Music || 2023 || Dawn Golden - Discoloration || 6 May 2023

[luckyshotwrites]

(The last song, I just like it for some character stuff). xD

Normal Songs that Remind Me of Vore

-Hungry Like The Wolf by Duran Duran

-Tiger Teeth by Walk the Moon

-Voracity by FalKKonE (from Overlord III)

Please add to this list 👌

[remiwarner]

DISCOLORATION

     The smile melted off his face the second Charlie closed the door behind him. Remi tried to make himself stop walking. To turn around. To go back inside and tell her that he could postpone, or force his importer to come to the city. But his body was truculent and buzzing like a fucking wasp’s nest – restless, hollow – and wouldn’t obey him. His feet carried him to the elevator, to the garage, to his car; his hands started the engine, turned the wheel, and soon he was speeding along the streets of Battery City, his mood darkening the further he got from home.      He wanted it to stop. He needed it to stop, the constant, nagging thoughts that chewed at the back of his mind, told him that he was no good and that there was no point to anything, and that all he was doing by fighting it was dragging his suffering out longer. That he might as well give up. The thoughts that drew him into himself and made it feel like the world around him was a firm pressure on his temples, that everything – but most of all him – was deeply and fundamentally wrong.      All he needed was to get rid of them, to get himself back to normal, so he could continue his life without feeling like existence in and of itself was nothing but a migraine, ever developing and growing in intensity until it became unbearable. All he needed to get rid of them was packed away underneath a panel in his dashboard.

     To his credit, Remi did have a meeting with an importer, and it was out of town, just… not very far. And there was no problem (at least not anymore – another half lie), just a new shipment. Wouldn’t take more than an evening.

     For a little over two hours, he zoned out to the monotonous landscape flying by him, the tension in his body only given away by the way his knuckles whitened around his grip on the steering wheel. The sun was setting to his right, painting the desert in orange and red – then it dipped below the horizon and it got dark fast, his headlights illuminating the way ahead.      Finally, he pulled in to a hiking trail parking lot, idling his car next to the only other one that stood there with its engine running. He got out, retrieving a bag from his trunk, and his importer did the same before coming to meet him between the two vehicles. The expression on Remi’s face must have spoken volumes, because the importer, usually one for small talk, went straight to business.      “This one’s a good one. Hear they got someone new in the lab.” He handed Remi the duffel he was holding, and Remi put his smaller bag momentarily on the roof of his car to free his hands before accepting it. He tugged the zipper open about halfway, inspecting the contents using what little light reached them from the two bright pools their headlights made on the ground.    “Yeah.” Remi zipped the bag back up and held it in one hand, grabbing the bag on the roof with the other and tossing it at the importer. “They do.”

   “So make sure they stay on schedule from now on. Wasted a lotta money while they were lookin’ for a replacement, ‘n I want double deliveries ‘till it’s made up. I don’t care what y’gotta do, ‘f they gotta stay in the lab twenty-four fuckin’ seven; just make it happen.”      The importer nodded, fidgeting with a zipper on the bag he’d been given, then waited until Remi got back in his car before doing the same.

     The drive back seemed longer than it had the other way, and he was tired, so fucking tired – of his headaches, of the knots in his back and shoulders, of the impatient shaking of his leg whenever he sat still for more than two minutes, of the unintelligible maelstrom of his conflicting thoughts. He gave up, pulling into the next motel he came across: an unmanned, anonymous place that had about as much charm as a piece of rock. Popping the cover off the panel on the dashboard, he retrieved the pills he’d stashed there and took two, then put everything back into place before he rolled up to the barrier gate and booked a room on the screen there. Once he’d paid, a swipe of one of his cards against the sensor, the gate rose, letting him through. Remi found a parking spot, retrieved his bag, his gaze lingering on the other bag for a split second before he closed the trunk, locked the car, and went to his room.      It was just as impersonal and charmless as the outside, but it was clean and tidy. He dropped his bag on a chair that stood in the corner, undressed and got into bed, only pausing for a moment to send Charlie a text (Love u x) before dropping his head onto the pillow and closing his eyes, letting the codeine do its work.

* * *

     When he awoke the next morning, the rising sun was poking its way through the tiny gaps in the blinds, glimmering at him as he shifted his head. Squinting, Remi checked the time on his phone. 6:33. That’s what you get for going to sleep at fucking nine. He rubbed at his eyes and got up, padding into the sterile bathroom to pee. Shower. Brush his teeth. It was a little past seven when he left the room, dropping his bag into the trunk – other bag, other bag, other bag – before getting back on the road. He had another hour to get back to Battery… and then he had a lot of meetings, because getting all his head dealers to show up somewhere at the same time was apparently an impossible task.

     First, he met Simone, near a small shop where he’d just bought a breakfast burrito, eating while he waited for her to show up, texting Charlie good morning now that it was a more reasonable hour. After Simone came Marco, Sebastian, Alex… the bricks in the bag in his trunk dwindling bit by bit. It was nearing five pm by the time he arrived at the corner shop down the street from Jerome’s apartment, last on the list; he idled the car by the curb, waiting. The bag was in the backseat, almost empty.      It didn’t take him long to appear, the car door opening and closing, the right side of the vehicle dipping a little as he got in.      “Hey,” he grinned, reaching behind him and pulling the bag into his lap. “Long day?”    “The fuckin’ longest.”      They talked a little about the… hiccup in production, about the replacement, about how they’d have to move the product fast to make up for lost time and resources, then Jerome gave Remi’s shoulder a slap and reached for the door handle, bringing the bag with him.    “Wait,” Remi interrupted, stopping him before he got the door open. “Leave me one. ‘M workin’ tonight.”      “Yeah?” With a slight furrow of his eyebrows, Jerome dragged the zipper open, took out a brick and laid it in the glovebox. “Y’need help?”    “Nah.” Remi shook his head.      “Alright, man. Have a good one.”    “You too.”

     And then he was alone again, and the day’s errands were done, and he had a brick of heroin in his glove compartment and a get-together to get to. He pulled away from the curb and headed towards Zone Seven, to a penthouse apartment somewhere between Summerlin and Wildemont, filled with some of Battery’s most unsavory. It was more of a base of operations than it was a home, people coming and going at all hours of the day – and even more so at night. It was mafia-owned, and tonight was a sort of… networking event. Very different from anything Charlie had ever made him attend: darker, ten times more debauched, but when it all came down to it, just as fake. Everyone’s goal was to get ahead, and nobody cared who they had to step on to do it.      Remi drove into the parking garage and shut off his engine, bringing the brick with him from the glovebox as he went around back to the trunk. He grabbed his jacket from there and slipped it on, then ripped the packaging open on the brick and started filling his pockets. There wasn’t enough room. Not without him going around looking like a bulging idiot, anyway. He dug around his car until he found another bag and put the rest in there, bringing it with him as he headed for the elevator. On the touch screen there, he pressed the button for the penthouse, and a light went on next to a camera above the display. When it didn’t recognize him as either the owner of the penthouse or any of the people on the approved visitor list, he heard a short, melodic chime, staring impatiently into the lens as he waited. Another moment passed, then a cheerful trill sounded, and the elevator started going up. Up he went, for floors and floors, not feeling how quickly the elevator was moving because the ride was so smooth. Softly, it came to a stop, then the speakers dinged and the doors opened onto the dim but luxurious penthouse, for the time being rather empty.

    A suit-clad man came to greet him – in his sixties, salt and pepper hair, clean shaven, beady eyes. He smiled, crow’s feet fanning out onto his temples.       “Remi Warner. The man himself. I’m so pleased you could attend.” He shook Remi’s hand firmly, clasping a hand onto his shoulder in some kind of phony, overbearing gesture that was supposed to come off as warm, and probably looked ridiculous due to the fact that Remi was at least a head taller than him. “Been a few years now, hasn’t it? Where all I’ve seen of you has been the fallout of your, uh… exploits. How are you?”    “‘M alright, Harry.” The man finally let go of Remi’s hand.       “Is that a wedding ring?” He asked, though Remi’s left hand was hanging at his side and he hadn’t so much as glanced at it.    “Yeah.”      “Congratulations. That bride of yours is beautiful, I hear. And a daughter, too? Adopted, must be.”    “Yeah.” Remi’s jaw tightened, almost imperceptibly.      “Your father would be proud. Let’s have a toast to him. Come. Sit. Scotch okay?”    “Sure,” Coming further into the large apartment, Remi sat down on the sleek, spotless couch, avoiding a third yeah. Avoiding any ill-conceived jabs about his old man, no matter how many fought their way up his throat. The man currently in his company was old fashioned – there were only two things he valued more than family: money, and respect. Remi really didn’t think his father deserved any, but he was almost certain Harry Harlow would disagree.      When they were both seated, a boy – mid- to late teens, in a shirt and vest – wheeled a bar cart closer and started pouring whiskey into crystal glasses for them. Grandkid? Some cousin or other? Remi thought to himself, swallowing a smirk when the boy passed the first glass to the old man with a muttered here you go, uncle. He was given the second, sipping it as the old man went on about recent events in Battery’s underground and the lives of other mutual acquaintances.

     Slowly, people started trickling in. More well-dressed mobsters. Members of other syndicates. Arms dealers. People who dealt in alcohol, technology, information… Fences, smugglers, collectors of banned and censored things. Leering procurers with entourages of barely dressed women and men trailing lasciviously in their wake, lounging over the furniture and casting solicitous, sultry gazes beneath half-lidded eyes at anyone who looked their way. The penthouse filled with the sound of voices and music, ice clinking in glasses, with the warmth of bodies, with smoke. The heroin was flying from Remi’s pockets, replaced with bills and bills and bills and bills, fatter than the baggies they were exchanged for. He made trips down to his car in the garage, stashing it away in hidden places because – as pleasant as they all were being – there was not a single soul in that penthouse he trusted further than he could spit.

     The night dragged on. He’d had two glasses of whiskey, and was significantly less inebriated than everyone around him, and if he’d thought the codeine would be enough, he’d been wrong, because there was something better in his pocket, and it was calling his fucking name. He ignored it, chain-smoking as the last of his supply decreased, one baggie at a time.

     A whore slid into the seat next to him on a couch somewhere deeper inside the penthouse, getting close. It was quieter there, at the edges of the party. The sugary scent of her perfume overpowered everything.      “I hear you can hook me up?”    “’M out.” He glanced at her, and she watched him back, a slow smile spreading across her face.      “That’s a lie.” Her eyes narrowed a little. “Come on… I’ll pay.”      Remi shook his head.      “Share with me, then.” Her hand landed on his thigh, traveling upwards. “And I’ll give you the best tip you’ve gotten all night.”      He caught her by the forearm and placed her hand firmly back in her own lap.      “No fun,” she frowned petulantly, reaching into her bra for a fold of silver that she held out to him between her index and middle finger. Her eyes were onyx in the shadowy murk of the room. His jacket was lying draped over the armrest. Remi slipped his hand into the inner pocket, fingers closing around the last baggie before he pulled it out and offered it to her, the money and the drugs trading hands. I did it, he thought, a strange mix of relief and regret flooding him. And then… and then… she opened it. Poured it out on the low coffee table in front of them; a heap of white powder. Leaned over it, cutting it into four fat fucking lines with a long, perfectly manicured nail. Another bill came out of her bra – amazing what she had room for in there – and she rolled it up, leaning even lower over the table as she held it up to her nostril.

     Remi’s mouth went dry, watching her. He tried swallowing, but couldn’t, the motion nothing more than a painful bob of his larynx. He sat forward a little, accepting the bill from her when she passed it to him as she leaned back into her seat. He was powerless to it. Just one night – just a couple of hours. Of silence in his head. Of the tightness in his muscles dissipating. Of being numb. He flipped the rolled up bill over, using the other end as he cleared the two remaining lines from the polished stone surface of the table. Then he sank into the couch, too, leaning his head back against the cushions, slow breaths escaping through parted lips as he stared up at the ceiling, waiting. Waiting.

     And then bliss washed over him like a tidal wave.

     His eyes fell shut, enveloping him in a comforting darkness. A sigh seeped from his lungs; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so light, and nothing was wrong anymore. How could it be, when warmth was trickling through his veins and he was floating and the penthouse was dissolving around him? Not a single thought lingered in his brain – his consciousness was a waking dream, an all-encompassing euphoria that swept him along in its current and carried him away from everything. Everyone. From himself.

* * * 

     When he came back to the party, the dark-haired hooker was gone; he was alone, and happy to be, blithely fucking numb. It was lighter in the room, but it wasn’t because anybody had turned on any lights. The sky outside was brightening, an orange haze peeking above the horizon. Remi shifted, folding an arm underneath his head as he laid it on the armrest on top of his jacket, then used the last of his energy to bring his legs up onto the cushions beside him, curling up on the expensive couch. It wasn’t very comfortable, but he was, and it didn’t take him long to fall asleep.

* * *

     Somewhere, in the next room, somebody was arguing, muffled voices bleeding through the wall. Remi screwed his eyes up and squinted against the sun in his face, slowly pushing himself into a seated position. Other bodies were scattered around on the furniture, some sleeping, some awake and groaning. He grabbed his jacket and stood, picking his way quietly through the room without disturbing or looking at anyone as he made his way to the elevator. And down he went, plummeting past floor after floor before he arrived at the garage. Walking towards his car, he pulled his phone from his pocket, waking the screen.

     And his stomach dropped.

     Calls. Texts. Notifications about voicemails. His eyes scanned rows and rows of them, all from Charlie. Please call me back. I need you. Where are you? Please… Please…    “Shit.” The word was a hiss, his fingers quick with practiced ease as he turned his phone over in his hands before he had time to change his mind or do something stupid like come to his senses.      The case that housed the device’s hardware clattered to the ground by his feet, the battery following a split second later. The chip snapped in half between his thumb and index. Then the phone itself was dropped, glass cracking into a million pieces as it landed face down on the concrete. Remi bent to pick up the broken parts, dropping them into a trash can that stood by the elevator doors before he walked the rest of the way to his car, got in, and headed for home.

[wolfontheloose]

Against all the screaming pain of the nerve endings in his face, Ryden smiled, grin gradually growing into a full stretch, as wide as the deep dimples at the ends would allow. There it was, his finish line after a long, breath-stealing, strenuous marathon, in sight and just a couple of steps away. The end goal he’ll always run towards, the destination he’d always return to, through wind, snow and rain always rush to, without stopping at nothing and no one that would impede his progress. There was no time or thought to warn the siren that this collision, although desperately needed and expected, would hurt, Ryden’s arms opening to accept it way before he thought it through. It was sky opening up for dawn, embracing the scorching sun that rose inevitably to ignite the dark heavens with its crimson shine. The sky was always ready for dawn, to be enveloped in its golden glow and warmth. A day must come after the long night.

Yet still Ryden could not help but grimace, discolored face contorting as arms squeezed and then felt around to confirm the realness of him, kisses landing on the sore flesh of his face without mercy. “Ow, ow, ow, ow…” He protested weakly but didn’t stop the onslaught, merely diminished under it, bending under the weight of the pinprick pain shooting through like lightning until he practically slumped to sit on the floor, pulling the clinging siren with him. He laughed it off, refusing to let this hinder the other man even if every inch of his skin was screaming and the cracked and broken bones inside creaked like shattered doors in old, rusty hinges.

Their foreheads connected and he gathered the siren into his lap, not caring how Mars straddled or folded his limbs around him as long as they kept any space between them non-existent. “Yeah…” The response was a broken croak, full of trembling excitement that came with finally accomplishing something nerve-wreckingly urgent and difficult. And relief. Such deep, bone-rattling relief. His hands dug into the fabric of whatever shirt Marsden wore, clenching and unclenching in it, wanting to hold onto him tighter but resisting because it would crush the other man. "Do I smell steak, baby?" Finally, his hoarse managed with a shivering breath, a line of tiredness and pain drawn between his brows.

Mars heard the door open and the deliberate but heavily burdened steps set the cadence for the drumbeat of his heart for it too had slowed enough in time to give him more opportunity to listen. Familiar steps, steps that belonged to a dream and not to the day so the voice too sounded like it was part of a dream and not part of this world.

M'home.

The siren turned his head to see the owner of those steps and voice in the open mouth of the kitchen and this too felt like a dream. Mars on limited hours of sleep having only just returned from his own journey and only having these few moments alone to gather himself now suddenly faced with a dream walking before his very eyes but very gradually the veil of dreaming began to lift. Starlight twinkled across the unbroken surface of a still blue lagoon and in this moment of inhaled breath life came rushing in and like the day that he'd stood in Ryden's hallway wishing away the dawn and to return to a dream, now Marsden did the same. If this was a dream, let him never wake from it.

He didn't even know if he was capable of speaking to this dream. Sometimes speaking in a dream could wake you out of it so all that came from Marsden's throat was a soft whimper as mouthed words produced soundless from his useless tongue. Gravity took hold of his body and without another thought he was drawn into the werewolf's orbit until there was no more space between them. The collision was a supernova, a revelation this dream was real as the siren's arms encircled the werewolf and felt he was solid, a physical embodiment of everything he wanted in the world in this bruised and battered package. Home. Finally home. So overwhelming it was to be caught in this supernova of feeling that all he could do was cling desperately to the werewolf and bury his face into the other man's neck, smelling smoke and ash and sweat and blood and every other horrible thing the werewolf had gone through in order to trudge himself back from the brink of horror into the safety of the siren's embrace. Kisses dampened from his tears landed next, along sloping skin, against tender bruises until every visible discolored patch of skin of purple and yellow was greeted with his lips and tender touches of his fingers caressing, needing to feel with every fingerprint until it could be devoted to memory.

"Welcome home," he croaked, finally able to speak, forehead pressing against a heavy brow. The dream was not a dream. "Hungry?"

[meetmeatthecoda]

Waking: Part 2 - Weaning

All righty, part 2 of the Red angst fest. Sorry in advance. But, honestly, I struggled a little with keeping this one coherent through all of Red’s feelings and grief. I tried to stick to a central theme so that it’s mostly intelligible. Again, as always, I’d love to hear what you guys think! :) Thank you so much for the response to part 1! Comments from you guys make it all worth it! :) This is also on my FF.net and AO3. The songs for this part were “Still Life” and “Discoloration” by Dawn Golden. Part 3, the final one, is almost done, should hopefully be up tomorrow night! Fingers crossed for productivity! :D Much love, you guys! <3

Red hates weaning.

It doesn’t work.

There have been many times in his life, with all the different substances he has ingested, indulged in, and experimented with, he has had to go through the process of weaning. He finds it infuriating to take in less and less of the only thing he wants, all the while being expected to feel better about himself.

But, if he is sure of one thing, it is that he would rather suffer through a lifetime of withdrawal if it meant he didn’t have to be incrementally pried from Lizzie’s side. He doesn’t understand how everyone thinks that it can be better for him to be away from Lizzie when he feels as though he’s suffocating when he’s not with her, the air becoming too heavy for his lungs to hold. It doesn’t matter that she can’t talk to him or make him smile or ease his pain.

He just needs to be with her.

At first, he doesn’t leave her side. He spends his time slumped in an uncomfortable folding chair at her bedside, forcing his eyes wide open, staring desperately at her face, willing her to wake.

Dembe, who had been gone for three days making arrangements, returns and finds him like this, in the same rumpled suit he left him in, completely unmoved, dark circles under his eyes, looking gaunt and paralyzed, clutching Lizzie’s hand, trying in vain to keep it warm.

Dembe drops everything he’s holding with a crash and hurries to Red’s side but it still takes him several tries saying Red’s name to get him to rip his eyes from Lizzie’s face and look up.

Red refuses to leave, despite Dembe’s urging to get some sleep, food, air, anything to get him out of the room.

“She needs me, Dembe, I can’t just leave!” he protests, his voice weak from days of disuse, completely out of his mind with grief and lack of sleep.

He’s not doing well.

Dembe finally persuades him to use the bathroom in Lizzie’s room to clean himself up but only under Red’s conditions that Dembe stays in Red’s chair carefully watching Lizzie and that the bathroom door stays partially open, so Red will hear if Lizzie wakes.

Dembe keeps a much closer eye on him after that, to Red’s great annoyance. He knows Dembe only means the best but Red rather wishes that he would just leave him alone to suffer at Lizzie’s side.

That’s all that he wants anyway.

But Dembe knows Red and his ways. He knows Red will not leave Lizzie until he is ready and he certainly will not accept anything to make the situation more bearable for himself. So, Dembe attempts to take matters into his own hands.

First, Dembe puts a slightly more comfortable folding chair by Lizzie’s bed for Red to sit in. Red sits on the floor in retaliation for a whole day but quickly realizes that he can’t see Lizzie’s face properly from down there and that makes him horribly anxious so he sits in the chair only out of necessity, making sure Dembe knows it.

Dembe waits another week before switching the armchair with a cushioned recliner, telling Red that if he is going to insist on sleeping by Lizzie’s bed, he might as well spare his back and sleep in a recliner.

Red stays up three nights in a row in defiance.

Once Red grudgingly gives in and is consistently sleeping about three hours a night, holding Lizzie’s hand all the while, Dembe attempts to move a cot into her room but that pushes Red over the edge. He explodes, yelling at Dembe in a way that he hasn’t had to since his teenage years, telling him that if he wants to sit by Lizzie’s side for the rest of his life and rot in that fucking recliner then it is his choice and none of Dembe’s business so he can kindly fuck off.

Dembe doesn’t talk to him for four days after that.

Of course, Red starts to feel bad after four hours but he doesn’t leave Lizzie’s side, knowing that Dembe is still angry, and instead makes Lizzie a promise that he will apologize as soon Dembe will accept it.

(He stopped making promises to himself years ago. He never keeps them for anyone but Lizzie.)

He and Dembe make up by the next week, (“I understand, Raymond. It is Elizabeth.”), and Red progresses to spending one hour outside of Lizzie’s room every day, just in the next room with Dembe, playing chess or cards, with a handheld camera and a baby monitor close by to keep an eye and ear on Lizzie at all times.

He is making progress. And he hates every minute of it.

Soon, Dembe starts to suggest taking walks outside the house. Red knows he is starting small, trying to ease him into being away from Lizzie for longer periods of time, but to Red, it seems an insurmountable obstacle.

(How can he be expected to leave the house when all he wants to do is climb onto her hospital bed, lie down, and hold her? Just hold her, that’s all. He would never dream of doing anything else without Lizzie’s express verbal permission and possibly several flashing, neon signs.

He’s always thought Prince Philip a superbly presumptuous fool.)

It is several months before Red will even entertain the idea of leaving the house for any period of time, and despite Dembe’s gentle and insistent encouragement, he completely blanches at the idea of leaving Lizzie alone.

“What if she wakes up while I’m gone, Dembe? The doctor said it could be any time. I have to be here when she wakes, you know that. She can’t be alone.”

“She would not be alone, Raymond, the nurse would be here with her.”

“Helena is very nice, Dembe, but you know that’s not the same. Lizzie doesn’t know her, she would be terribly confused and frightened. No, I have to stay until she wakes up, Dembe, and that’s that.”

Red is aware somewhere in the back of his mind that the longer Lizzie goes without waking, the less likely it is that she will wake at all but he simply doesn’t contemplate it. He has been operating under the assumption for months now that he could simply turn around at any time and Lizzie’s beautiful blue eyes could finally be peering curiously back at him, brimming with questions, as they always are. He knows that he will not be able to function if he accepts defeat, not with her lying there in that room, looking completely normal, albeit fast asleep with a machine breathing for her. He has to hope.

There is no alternative for him.

Dembe eventually persuades Red to take a simple walk in the garden. He hasn’t been outside and breathed fresh air for months (“I can’t open the window in Lizzie’s room, Dembe, she might get cold!”) and it quickly becomes too much. It is a wonderful day, to be sure. Red is sure that if circumstances were different, he would have very much enjoyed it. But if circumstance were different, Red wouldn’t have broken down at the simple sight of flowers blooming in the window box.

If circumstances were different, Lizzie wouldn’t be in a coma.

“Dembe, Lizzie loves tulips. She should be here to see them.”

He stays shut up in Lizzie’s room for two days after that.

He gets better after Dembe brings a vase of blooming tulips into Lizzie’s room and places them gently on her nightstand.

Red feels ashamed.

Dembe loves Lizzie too.

Red does better after that, comforted by the fact that he can bring little bits of the world back for her. That motivates him to make small trips outside each day, his only goal bringing her back things he thinks she would enjoy. Dembe is pleased, regardless of his motives, deciding that it’s better than Red not going out at all.

Red still hates it.

Weaning is supposed to break dependence on a substance, make it so every thought doesn’t revolve around it, every waking moment isn’t dedicated to it.

It’s not working for Red.

He is physically capable of leaving Lizzie’s bedside for extended periods of time now but he does it because he knows he must, not because it makes him feel better. How can he feel better, good, or anything positive at all, when Lizzie has been sleeping for five months, losing precious time with every second her eyes are closed, and he’s here, watching her, knowing it is all his fault? How can the guilt not eat him alive whether he’s in the same room or in a different country? How can he not miss her every second of every day, would gladly suffer a million accusatory looks and hateful words from her if it meant she would just open her eyes?

Weaning is supposed to help him let go.

It doesn’t work.

[phoebestarshine]

My Honey

I can’t stop loving you. 

Now i’m sitting, waiting for the telephone to swallow me whole. 

And you knelt beside me and You started to pray And the whites of your eyes blackened With a hardened decay And you talked to me in a broken voice "In your open mouth Silence me in the coursing Blood in my eyes Dress me in your clothes And swallow me whole"

[userlando]

editing an avengers vid with the song discoloration is just... so emotional. I have to take breaks bc it’s all so sad someone shoot me in the as s