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assortedseaglass · 2 years

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Come Back To Me - Epilogue

Billy Washington x OFC

[Masterlist]

Warnings: 18+ Language and Smut.

Author’s Note: How are we feeling after the photoshoot, pals? Are we okay? Have we gone insane? Have we gone completely feral? It came just at the right time for the epilogue…

This is the last instalment of Come Back To Me. Thank you all so much for your support with this story - as I have said before, sharing my writing has been very nerve wracking but you have all made it so worth it! Your kind words have meant the world, and I feel much more at ease to share more in the future.

Billy and Ida occupy such a lovely little corner of my mind, and I must admit I’m sad that this fic is over. I’m glad that my version of Billy has been received so well, and that Ida has been so accepted by you all! Maybe in the future, I’ll write more about the pair of them. Send any suggestions, requests or ideas my way! Here goes…

Word Count: 5.6K

Billy stepped off the train and was met by the gentle smell of foxglove, campion and cow parsley. May, ten months after Cranstead Fields. Spring in Woodwell was in full bloom; bunting was strung from the village pub, swifts split the air with their wings, and scent of suncream was brought in with the season’s first tourists.

Billy breathed deeply the fresh air, shouldered his bag and followed the few other passengers that had left the train to the station steps. Flicking his glasses off his head and onto the sharp bridge of his nose, he rounded the corner into the warmth of the sunlight and began the short walk home. A sharp whistle rang through the evening air. Billy was grinning before he even turned around.

“Where you heading?” Her hair was lit by the setting sun. Billy watched insects flutter in the hazy light around her, and occasionally a robin or blackbird darted out to feast on them. Billy knew they were catching dinner before settling in for the night, but it looked as though she had summoned them herself. His wild thing. As she leant against the door of her car, a seductive smirk played on her lips, whether she knew it or not.

“Got a girl waiting at home,” he replied, walking slowly towards her.

“Lucky thing,” the woman snaked her arms around Billy’s neck and leant against the car, bringing him with her. Billy laughed as he kissed her. He pulled away and she pulled him back. He laughed once more, kissing her between chuckles.

“You’re insatiable.”

“If you only knew,” she smiled against his lips. “How was it?”

“I fucking hate the city.” Billy stood back to admire her. “You look nice.” She blushed and flattened her skirt a little. He moved towards the passenger side but was stopped by her voice.

“You’re up, big boy.” She threw him the car keys and laughed brightly, touching his arm as she passed him by. “You feeling up to it?” Billy kissed her cheek and nodded. He opened the door to the driver’s side, glancing around at the spring scene. Taking a deep breath, he sat down. The leather of the steering wheel creaked as he gripped it. He checked the mirrors, checked his seatbelt, and leant over to check the glovebox. A hand snapped out to grip his wrist.

“You’re ok,” she said soothingly, rubbing the skin with her thumb. Billy swallowed, nodded almost imperceptibly, and started the engine.

After the events at Cranstead Fields, Billy wouldn’t go near a car. Couldn’t. The smell of leather or petrol made him gag. A single thought about driving saw him dissolve into a sweating, sobbing frenzy. For a while, he got the bus, train or even walked between his parents’ house, Ida’s flat and his weekly therapy sessions at the hospital.

Through it all, he and Ida talked about leaving the city. Sofia and Faisal had launched into their wedding plans, and Ida offered to move out so that they may begin married life alone. They had protested, but really, Ida was keen to start her own life. She had never felt quite at home in London. She craved the wild intensity of the country. Of the coast. To be bustled about by the wind and rain rather than the city dwellers.

Billy, too, found London life stifling. There were too many painful memories lurking around every corner now. He remembered once telling Ida that she had outgrown him, outgrown their life on the outskirts of London. But now, he felt he had joined her. Every day he felt the tips of his fingers yearning to reach out and grab something. What that was he wasn’t sure, until Ida burst into the flat one day beaming from ear to ear. A heritage charity based near Dungeness had heard about her work from one of her PhD tutors. Impressed by her dedication to teaching, they offered her a position and cottage in nearby Woodwell. Not a month before Ida earned her PhD and they moved to the cottage, Has appeared on the Washington’s doorstep. Was Billy around? He had recently left the service citing “bad knees and enough adrenaline to take him to the next millennium” and had started a charity using sport to help rehabilitate military veterans. And so, Billy found himself studying sports therapy with funding from Has’ charity while helping veterans find community in the form of weekly football matches.

The winter months passed them by in a blur of packing, teaching and exploring. Billy hadn’t been able to face the two-hour drive from London to the village, and so when Sofia and Faisal finished helping them load the moving van, he boarded the train and met them at little Woodwell station. He had felt ashamed, childish and heartily embarrassed. Recognising the first signs of Billy drifting too far into his own mind, his three closest friends boosted his ego by asking him to carry the heaviest boxes.

Slowly, with the help of Ida, Billy was gradually reintroduced to driving. When they first moved to the village, Ida drove them to nearby beauty spots so that they might explore, fuelled by picnics or flasks of soup. Occasionally, Billy drove. Only short distances, dropping Ida at the train station or grocery shop. His first big journey was to Dungeness, thirty minutes away. They stopped three times to calm Billy’s nerves and Ida had driven back, but boy did she reward him afterwards. When spring first arrived, Ida took him to a drive-in cinema to see Casablanca. Only last weekend, they’d been to watch dirt track racing with Lana and Thom. Ida was determined to rewrite his memories of driving with happy ones. Today was no exception.

“Mum and dad send their love,” Billy said, his arm resting against the open car window. He looked at Ida briefly and winked. Not long after Cranstead, Ida visited the Washingtons and apologised for her behaviour the day of Billy’s birthday. She still stood by what she said. Perhaps, just not the way she said it. Water under the bridge. That’s what Jeff had said. Ever since he nearly lost Billy, he was a changed man. Quieter, gentler.

“Did you see Gran?”

“I did, actually. She was heading out with her fancy man!”

“Maybe we’ll have another wedding to go to!” Ida laughed, but the idea of her grandmother finding happiness after all she had been through filled her heart with starlight. “Turn left here.” Billy did as he was told, mind flooding with images of Ida in a white dress. They turned onto a narrow country lane lined with high hedges.

“Where are you taking me, woman?”

“It’s a surprise! Left again at the end of the lane.” Ida reached behind her to grab her bag, and Billy swallowed hard when the slit of skirt parted. She had gained some happiness weight since their move to the cottage, and fuck he loved it on her. The flesh of her thighs looked so soft and beautifully warm. She pulled down the passenger mirror, applied some lip balm and teasingly puckered her lips at him.

Billy barked a laugh. “You’re an idiot.”

Ida wound down the window and Billy saw, from the corner of his eye, her hair whip about her face in the breeze. He placed a hand on her thigh, and Ida felt the first frisson of excitement fizzle there. “See that track, up the hill?” She rasped, fighting to keep her emotions in check. “Just up there.” Billy removed his hand to change gear. Ida could still feel the heat of where it had rested on her. The car hobbled over the track and broke through a clearing of trees. Woodwell came into view at the bottom of the valley. From their vantage point on the hill, the ocean could be seen on the horizon, hazy in the evening light. The swifts were still screeching overhead, and Billy watched as a few deer pranced in a field below.

“Ida-”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it!? I told that old lady in the pub, you know, the one that always sits by the fire? Never takes off that fur coat? Well, I told her that we were new to the area and exploring, and she told me about this place. Apparently, it’s the best place to see the stars and no one comes up here!” Before Billy could open his mouth to reply, Ida dashed out of the car and round to the boot. She opened it up and came back with blankets, pillows and a flask of hot chocolate. “It’s not quite summer yet, hey?”

Billy gazed at her. His girlfriend. His best friend. His Ida. “I love you.”

Ida stopped pouring the hot chocolate and looked up at him. “Where did that come from?”

“I’m just making up for lost time.” And it was true. Billy was making up for all the lost I love yous he should have given Ida over the years.

“I love you too.” Her breath caught. His smile barely left his beautiful face these days. “I didn’t think it was possible to love you as much as I do, but it just keeps growing.”

“Don’t be soft,” he laughed, though his eyes watered and his hand moved to cradle her face and bring her into a tender kiss.

For an hour or so they sat with their seats reclined, watching the sun descend beyond the sealine and stars rise to freckle the navy sky. They spoke about plans for the cottage. Ida wanted to paint the door red; she had always dreamed of a house with a red door. Billy had already made work on the garden, planting the sweet pea seeds Gwen had given them and the nasturtiums that hung in baskets by the door. Billy had plans to build Ida a little reading nook at the far end of the garden, under the willow tree. The reason was selfish. Ida loved to read, but he loved watching her read more. The way her mouth twitched into a small smile, or tears glazed her eyes. The unusual positions she sat in, legs propped up against the table while her hair dangled over the back of a chair. No matter how closely Billy would come to know Ida, she forgot the world and herself when she was reading.

Every now and again, Billy turned on the radio to see what music was playing. When Say You Love Me played he sang along, and Ida had to fight every urge to kiss him senseless. The night was dark now, the only light coming from the moon, stars and dim car dashboard. Ida poured the last of the hot chocolate into their flasks and handed one to Billy. She watched his lips curve around the cup.

“I’m so proud of you, Billy.”

He smiled. “What for?”

“For so many things. But today, the driving.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he finished the last of his drink, placed it in the footwell and reclined once more in his seat, cushioned by pillows and blankets. Ida did the same, lying on her side to look at him. “’Rewriting the memory’ for me.” He finished, quoting her.

Ida’s voice was low when she replied, not once looking away from his face. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Goosebumps of anticipation spread over Billy’s skin, and suddenly he felt shy. “It’s getting cold,” he whispered, though he knew full well his goosebumps weren’t caused by the chill air.

“I’ll warm you up.”

Billy swallowed.

In the reclined passenger seat, Ida leant on her elbow. Her face was still turned towards Billy, and she was thankful that the red light of the car was dim; she didn’t want him to see the nerves so brazenly decorating her cheeks. What he had said was right, Ida was insatiable. She had always loved sex, even more so now that she had Billy, and Billy’s body. But part of Ida was terrified by that side of her. She had always struggled to reckon people’s view of her as serious and studious with the free and lusty person she knew she could be. It was something she so often read in her books, sadly; women have minds or bodies, not both. She pushed the thought away. She had been waiting for this all day, had planned it for longer, and nerves were not going to ruin it. Ida pulled one of the pillows between the reclined seats so that she wouldn’t fall into the well between the two. She really had planned this. Ever so slowly, she leant towards Billy. He tried to keep composed but his eyes widened, just a little, and a bolt of confidence shot through Ida.

“You’ve been so good,” she whispered in his ear. Ida ran her nose down his neck, saw his pulse quicken and bit the taut skin of his collarbone before running her tongue back up his to his ear. “So, so good.”

“Fuck,” Billy’s breath staggered. Ida leant her arm against the head rest of Billy’s seat and lowered herself so that her breasts pressed against his chest, bringing her lips to his in an open, languid kiss. Billy hummed when her hot tongue skirted over his lower lip. She pulled back. Through heavily lidded eyes, he watched her gaze as it flickered hungrily to his lips. She ran her tongue over them once again but gave him nothing more. As Billy raised his head to chase her kisses, he caught sight of her hands untying the knot that held her skirt together. Ida had worn it intentionally; this was the same outfit she wore that first night when Billy turned up at the flat, rain-soaked and hungry for her. The thin fabric fell away, leaving Ida in her simple top and a pair of lace knickers that barely covered the ample flesh of her bottom. Her body, exposed to the cold, tensed and Billy found his voice.

“I’ve not seen these before,” Ida swung her leg over his hip as he said this, and his hands flew to her waist. She hovered over him, arms either side of his head.

“Well, you’ve been such a good boy,” she smirked. “You deserve a reward.”

Billy’s hips involuntarily bucked, desperate to meet hers. Ida laughed and, agonisingly slowly, pressed her clothed core to Billy’s hips. He moaned as she ground against him. She could feel just how painfully hard he had become through the rough fabric of his jeans.

“Already hard and I’ve barely touched you.” Billy whimpered as she dragged her core over his bulge. The grip he had on her tightened as he helped to rake her hips across his. Ida moaned at the friction the rough fabric caused on her centre. Continuing to roll her hips against Billy, she took the hem of her top and pulled it over her head. She felt a rush of power as Billy’s pupils blew wide with lust. He reached out a hand to cup one of her full breasts, the bare flesh warm under his hand, its pink nipple hardening instantly as his fingers ghosted over it. Ida rolled her hips once more, the action pushing her breasts further into his touch. Billy reached to grab the other, and he marvelled at how perfectly they filled his hands. Ida moaned, tipping her head back and rubbing her clothed pussy needily against him.

“Fuck, Ida.” His large hands trailed down her sides and came to rest on her thighs. He gripped her hard, holding her in place against him. Billy watched as she lifted her arms to tie back her hair. He didn’t think he could get any harder but this angle granted him the perfect view of the curve of her breasts, and he watched as they bounced a little with the movement of her tying her hair.

“Your tits are incredible,” he whispered, smirking. Ida giggled and rolled her hips to silence him. Billy’s head fell back against the head rest and he scrunched his eyes shut. His arousal was beginning to hurt. “Ida. Please.” Without warning, her weight disappeared from his hips. I didn’t want her to stop! Billy’s eyes flew open to be met with Ida’s face a hair’s breadth from his.

“Patience, my love.” She kissed him again, this time with hunger. She wound her hands into his hair and tugged. She rubbed her body across Billy’s. She moaned wantonly into his mouth, and Billy was seeing stars. When Ida broke away to bite at his neck and rub her hand across the swollen bulge of his trousers, he almost sobbed.

“No, no don’t go!” He was desperate now, pleading as he watched her return to her seat, kneeling to face him. Ida slid a hand into her own underwear, lips parting as she used her fingers to release some of her arousal. Billy watched, frozen, as Ida pleasured herself opposite him. He stared with burning intensity as one hand worked at her core, the other massaging one of her pink nipples. Each whimper and moan from Ida’s lips sent Billy further into madness and his breath became ragged. All those lonely years of moaning her name shamefully as he pleasured himself, of keeping his sinful thoughts at bay when she didn’t know he was watching her closely. To think now, that she had always wanted him as much, and that he could induce this kind of reaction in her only made him love her more. Want her more.

“Take them off,” Ida commanded breathily, indicating to his trousers. Billy fumbled with the button and zip of his jeans. Hooking his thumbs in the waistband, he shoved them roughly to his feet along with his boxers. His cock was freed and Ida felt her core clench. It was rock hard, the tip swollen and glistening with precum. She wanted nothing more than to have him inside her, but that wasn’t part of the plan. Yet. Billy’s breath hitched, his mind dizzy. Bending forward, Ida brought her face to his length and ran her tongue its shaft.

“Oh fuck,” Billy’s head flew against his seat, then snapped backto watch Ida work him. She ran her tongue along him a few more times, savouring the scent of his arousal as she did so. Spit coated her lips and, lit by the red light of the car, her eyes bore a wild glint as they stared into his. She looked like she was going to devour him. It occurred to Billy that she probably would, and his stomach twisted with excitement. No sooner had Billy come to this realisation were Ida’s lips on him and he gripped the seat belt with white-knuckle focus. The sensation of her hot mouth around his cock caused his hips to buck and she hummed with pride, the vibrations sending pleasure straight to Billy’s balls. He was transfixed as Ida bobbed her head, hollowed out her cheeks and took him into her mouth as deeply as she could.

“I swear to God every man dreams of this.”

Ida released him from her mouth and smiled. Pure and proud and so eager to please. She wrapped a small hand around him and pumped his length a few times, watching as precum dripped from his tip. She brought her tongue to lick it away from his slit and enveloped him with her swollen lips once again. “You taste so good,” she said when she next broke for air, before going back for more. Every now and then, she would stop to sing more praise between ministrations. “You’re so big,” “Your cock’s so pretty,” “I can’t wait to have you inside me”. That last almost had Billy spilling into her mouth. His chest heaved with staggered breaths, the act doing nothing to ease his light-headedness. A few more times Ida swirled her tongue along the tip of his shaft, her hand working at its base. When she finally released him with a sloppy pop, a trail of saliva connected his cock to her mouth and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. Billy brought his hands to rub his face, as though he were dreaming.

Ida’s plan was to drag his pleasure out for as long as possible, but my God did he make it hard for her. Watching him, a panting, quivering mess before her, did nothing to quell the throbbing between her legs. Sitting back in her chair she hastily removed her underwear and straddled Billy’s hips. Ida grabbed him by the shirt and yanked so that he was forced to sit up.

“Take this off.” Billy obeyed. He discarded his shirt and brought his hands to run along Ida’s sides. Ida, in turn, ran her hands along his chest. The toned muscle, each little freckle, the sprinkling of hair and the chain that hung around his neck. Her core throbbed again. “Are you ready for your reward?” Billy nodded eagerly. Excitement curled in both of their cores. Hands moving to grip her behind, he helped guide her as she lowered herself onto him. It took everything for Billy not to thrust up into her. For a moment, the pair paused; Ida’s mouth open, Billy’s own lips parted as he watched himself disappear within her. The tight heat of her pussy overwhelmed him momentarily, and he bit his lip to contain the whimper that threatened to escape him. Instead, he focused on Ida. Her brows were tight with concentration, lips parted as she sank further onto his cock. When he was fully inside her, she shuddered. “Billy,” she breathed. “You feel amazing.” They kissed each other desperately. Billy was silent for a while, utterly intoxicated by Ida. No woman had ever loved him this way. He understood how he could let people down with his actions, this last year had shown him that, but that was his doing and under his control. And yet, whenever he had opened his heart to someone before, shown them the most vulnerable parts of him, as he was in this moment with Ida, they were unsatisfied and unsatiated. Near the end of their relationship, after yet another loveless encounter with Becky, he snapped.

“Why bother when you detest being near me? Why not go and find someone else to fuck?” He spat bitterly at her.

“Shut up, Billy.”

“Don’t talk to me like that!”

“It’s not my fault you’re a dreadful fuck. You’re mind is always elsewhere. With her.”

“No it’s not-”

“Maybe we’d both enjoy it more if you imagined I was Ida.” She said nastily. In that moment, Billy wanted to hurt her. How dare she sully Ida’s name like that. Drag her into their mess.

“Get out.”

Ida ran her hands through Billy’s blond hair. “Hey, are you ok?”

“S’good,” Billy swallowed. “It’s good. Please don’t stop.” Ida raised her hips before bringing them down on him. Billy groaned as she sank on to him over and over, any thoughts of Becky and his worthlessness fading. The slow pace that Ida tried to set didn’t last long. Every flex of Billy’s muscles as he held on to her, every grunt that rumbled through his chest drove Ida into a frenzy and she wildly slammed her hips onto him. Heat from their bodies steamed up the cool windows of the car, and sweat was forming on Billy’s forehead. He frowned, jaw clenched as he focused on Ida’s body. Her plump flesh glistened with sweat, a few beads running between the valley of her breasts which bounced mesmerically as she fucked him. Her hair, still tied up, was coming down around her face and plastered to her cheeks. From this position, Billy could just about see himself disappearing into her with every thrust, her slick arousal coating their thighs.

“What’s that grin for?” Ida panted as she looked down at him. An idea had popped into Billy’s head. In one fluid movement, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled himself to a sitting position. Ida made the most of this new closeness and kissed the underside of his sharp jaw. Billy smiled and kissed the side of her head, before reaching behind her.

“What are you doing?” she asked again.

“Patience, my love.” He echoed. Still holding her steady, Billy reached his hand for the rear-view mirror, angling it down. “Perfect,” he whispered to himself before laying back in his seat. “Keep going,” he nodded to her. Ida looked over her shoulder, and at the mirror, before turning back to him.

“You dirty boy,” she smirked. He huffed a laugh back.

“Move,” he whispered.

“Only if you say please,” Ida whispered back, rocking her hips just a little.

“Please.” Ida gripped onto Billy’s shoulders for purchase and resumed the quick pace of her hips. Billy’s eyes travelled from her breasts to the column of her exposed neck as she tipped her head back, to the rear-view mirror. There, he watched the ripple of Ida’s backside with every slam of her hips. The moan that escaped Billy was obscene, as was Ida’s when his hands gripped the flesh of her cheeks and pulled her harder onto him. How he wished he had moved the side mirrors before the condensation settled on the windows. Seeing her from every angle awoke the animal in him, and soon, Ida was no longer in control. Billy grabbed Ida roughly and pulled her flush against him. She squeaked in surprise, and Billy brought his foot up to brace it above the footwell. This new angle gave him greater control over the harshness of his thrusts and the pace of their fucking. As he took one of her breasts in his mouth and resumed pounding into her heat, Ida cried out. Billy brought a hand to hold her waist down on him, and the other ran gently up her back to hold her neck. Ida sighed at his touch and he released her breast from his mouth. Billy ran his thumb across her bottom lip. Bliss was etched on her face. She took his thumb into her mouth and sucked gently.

“Oh my god, Ida-” He removed his hand to kiss her fervently. “You take me so well.” Ida whimpered against his lips. “It’s like you were made just for me.”

“Billy,” his last admission sent joy straight to her centre and pleasure to her core. “Billy, I’m close.” His thrusts sped up and the hand that had caressed her face found its way to her sensitive bundle of nerves. Anything for his Ida. He grazed his thumb over her clit and Ida’s hips bucked unsteadily. She pressed her forehead to his as she ground herself harder on him, desperate for any friction she could find. “Harder,” she moaned. Billy gripped her waist so hard that she knew she’d bruise. One hand on the steamy window, the other on his chest, Ida forced herself frantically down on him. The car was creaking now, though the sound was barely audible over the slap of their skin and lusty moans. Billy’s hips juddered, his pace becoming sloppy. It was over for Ida the second Billy released a few deep grunts with every thrust into her. Blinding heat spread through her body, every inch of exposed skin crackling with electricity. She cried out, tensing around Billy as an earth-shattering orgasm washed over her. Through the haze of her climax, she heard him rasp her name and felt the heat of his seed leak out of her. Looking down through half-lidded eyes, she watched him shudder beneath her, eyes tight shut, biting down on one hand while the other braced against her belly. They stilled, both shaking as their paroxysms of pleasure died away.

“I love you,” Ida said simply, smiling down at him. Billy giggled.

“I love you too.” When he giggled again, Ida joined in. His happiness was infectious. Billy patted his chest and she lay there while he remained seated within her. A few minutes passed while they caught their breath.

“The lady at the pub told you about this place?” Ida hummed a yes. “I’ll have to tell her thank you.”

Woodwell, a year to the day that Ida saved Billy’s life. Having left the car at the end of the lane, Ida walked to her and Billy’s little cottage laden with flowers and a cake fresh from the bakery. The pink evening sun was still warm, and Ida welcomed it on her face. From over the clematis border Ida heard music and, rounding the corner, found Billy sat on the front step with her Grandad’s guitar. A glass of beer was forgotten by his feet as he strummed, the chickens digging up weeds happily around him.

“Hey you,” she said softly. He looked up at the sound of her voice and smiled. “Give us a hand.” Ida gestured to the flowers, which Billy took and carried the table in the garden. There was still a lot of work to do on the cottage, with wood and tools stacked against Billy’s worktable. But for today, it would do. Just like at The Swan, Billy had strung fairy lights from the trees. The table was set with glasses and a few bottles of wine, and next door’s cat was already curled on one of the seats, enjoying the last of the day’s sun.

“How long until everyone gets here?” Ida was determined that today would not be one of unhappy introspection and had invited their families over to spend it with them.

“Lana and Thom should be here in about half an hour with Sofia and Faisal. I think mum and dad are bringing your gran for about 6ish?”

“We’ll have to be quick then.” She winked and ran into the house. Billy watched her go, stunned momentarily before coming to his senses. Dropping the flowers hastily on the table, he sprinted across the yard, scaring the chickens and slamming the red door behind him.

“You alright, my love?” Val had asked Ida when they arrived later. She took Ida’s face in her hands and examined her red cheeks and the slight sheen on her forehead. “Your colour’s up a bit.”

“It’s all this country air,” Gwen said from behind her.

“Something like that,” added Sofia, causing Lana to cackle.

“Hush,” Ida whispered to her friends, placing the cake on the table. She watched as everyone began to assemble around the her. The clink of glasses and plates took up. Lana and Sofia continued to giggle, Billy was making Thom and Faisal laugh, and Gwen and Val were chatting about the garden. Jeff sat in a chair at the end of the table, looking around just as Ida was. When they caught each other’s eye, they smiled gently at each other. Here were their favourite people, happy and altogether. That was enough for them.

Ida dashed into the house for her camera. She hadn’t forgotten, not this time. Unlike all her other photos, she had already picked out a frame for this picture. She stood in the doorway that led from the kitchen into the garden and raised her camera, snapping everyone before they realised she was there. None but billy heard the click of the camera. He looked up, and Ida was quick to take the picture. Her Billy, smiling that lopsided, boyish smile, his hair ruffled and glowing gold in the summer sun. Looking at her as if no one else was around. As if she were the last woman in the world. Ida lowered her camera and smiled back it him, and for a few moments they watched each other.

Billy winked and held out his hand. He was happy, and if any memories of last year were intruding on this moment, he didn’t let it show. With Ida at his side in their little corner of the world, Billy Washington felt for the first time in his life that maybe, just maybe, he was going to be ok.

Note: Woodwell is a village that I made up! And just in case people aren’t familiar with heritage charities (there are a lot in the UK), they generally look after sites of historic interest through research, arts, sciences and public engagement. Quite a few of them are historic properties and have places to live in for the people that work there.

Thank you so much for reading and for all the love. As I said before, any ideas that might make Billy and Ida appear again are welcome!

Tags: @jessssica1234 @anditsmywholeheart @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @aemonds-wifey @slytherincursebreaker @valerie977 @i-killed-ramsey @greenowlfactif @yentroucnagol @schniiipsel @multiple-fandoms-girl @just-emmaaaa @tosiaf @kage-no-sonzai @reblogedworks

#ewan mitchell #billy washington x oc #billy washington #ewan mitchell x reader #trigger point series

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mystra-midnight · 1 year

Text

Playing with Blackbirds

summary: caught in a storm the trio is forced to pull over and sleep in the car. in need of attention, dean wakes raven.

warnings: dom!dean. little hint of voyeurism. consensual non-consent.

words: 2.1k

a/n: this has literally been sitting in my drafts for like three years so it’s high time i finish it and post it. i wrote this for a very dear friend of mine, hence why the character is named. but really you could imagine it's yourself or anyone of your choice in the back seat of the impala with dominantpassionatesexgod dean.

At first, she thought it was the sound of the storm that had woken her. It was black outside, an endless void that the lightning illuminated for seconds at a time before it plunged back into darkness.

Raven had woken with a start, her body jerking up so she was propped up on her elbows, her eyes straining to see through the black. Years of hunting had conditioned her to react like this: to always be on edge and to assume the worst. Where was her gun? What was attacking her? Was she going to die today?

It took a minute for her heart to settle and for her to remember that she was safe. Well, as safe as she could be given that she was sleeping on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, in the back of a car with the Winchester brothers.

Groaning in annoyance, she dropped down until her back was pressed against the leather seat. Raven fumbled around on the floor for her phone, cursing softly until she found it. She regretted turning it on. The sudden brightness made her eyes water.

2:45am.

"Fucking hell."

She’d only managed to fall asleep an hour ago.

At first, the gentle patter on the roof had been soothing, giving the woman some kind of euphoria. It was a hard emotion to explain. It was almost like all the hurt, pain, and bad memories were washed out of the world with the downpour, like tomorrow would be a fresh start.

But as the minutes dragged on and the sky sobbed harder, reaching a thunderous roar, it became anything but soothing. The wind howled loudly like a banshee, whipping the car hard enough to make it rock, which just made sleeping that much more difficult. It made her skin crawl.

Raven shut her phone off and tossed it aside, so she was shrouded in darkness once again. There was no way she was going to be able to get back to sleep now.

And then the real source of her disturbed slumber made itself known: a pressure on her right thigh, just above the knee, that sent her mind careening through the events that had led to this moment.

The trio had been forced to pull over when it had become impossible to see the road, and the second the Impala was pulling off the slick asphalt, Sam was calling dibs on the front seat. Dean and Raven had been banished to the backseat for the night, which wouldn’t have been so bad if they weren’t at each other's throats.

It wasn’t unusual for them to be this way after a botched hunt; this time a skinwalker had escaped, slipping from their grasps like water through their fingers. And because of it, all three of the hunters were in a foul mood.

Raven had curled her knees against her chest, her arms wrapped around them, and her head resting against the window. She’d tried to make herself as small as possible, which wasn’t so hard given that she was already tiny in comparison to the brothers.

Dean had done the same on the opposite side of the car: arms crossed against his broad chest, head down, and legs on his side. But after not even an hour, they had both spread out, stretching life back into their stiff limbs.

Now her legs were across his lap, and she knew that it was his hand on her thigh, burning a hole through the denim of her jeans and down to the bone beneath tattooed skin. Her brow creased with uncertainty, and worry wormed its way into her thoughts.

Was something wrong?

"Dean?" Her voice sounded small, almost impossible to be heard above the thundering rain, even to her own ears. A minute went by with no response, and she started to think that maybe she’d imagined his hand moving up her leg. Dean was just resting it there while he slept, nothing more, but then it was moving further up her body, to the apex of her thighs, where he gripped her mound firmly, making her stomach tighten.

"‘bout time you woke up." His voice was low and husky, thick with lust, and she could hear him smirking. Her mind failed to figure out what game he was playing right now. It wasn’t like she hadn’t ever considered sleeping with him. They had shared enough flirty looks and filthy jokes to make a prostitute blush, but neither had shown much of an interest in anything more than that.

She and Dean were friends. That was it.

Raven wasn’t opposed to the idea of fucking him and giving him the ride of his life in the back of Baby, but his brother was literally right fucking there, less than two feet away.

"What the hell are you doing?" She tried to keep her voice firm and keep the tremor from it. She squeezed her thighs together, trapping his hand between them and halting his explorations.

He growled softly, the sound causing heat to pool between her legs as his other hand gripped her ankle hard enough to bruise it. "Open ‘em." He said, well, ordered. Raven could feel her panties becoming soaked from his dominating tone and touch.

Dean was all fire and heat, his hard voice leaving no room for argument, but...

Raven shuffled, trying to sit up and get away from him. She didn’t like the position he had trapped her in and how it gave him an advantage over her. She wasn’t some meek, fragile damsel that needed protecting. She was usually the one in charge, the one calling the shots in and out of the bedroom. This was unfamiliar territory, and it was as frightening as it was exciting.

But one of his large hands splayed possessively against her stomach, causing her internal temperature to rise until she thought her organs might combust. Dean pressed his palm down, keeping her pinned as he shifted so that he was kneeling and hovering over her.

His hand was still trapped between her thighs, his fingers digging in until her breath hitched and came faster.

"We can’t."

"I said open them." His voice was harder this time, his deep baritone making a delicate shiver run down her spine. Raven squeezed her thighs tighter together in stubborn resistance.

"Dean-"

He ripped her legs open without warning, earning a surprised squeak from the woman. The elder Winchester wasted no time popping open the button of her jeans and pulling the zipper down. Raven squirmed beneath him, trying once more to escape but not really wanting to. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to sleep with him—just not here.

"Let's make a deal, Raven." He leant in closer, his lips fluttering against hers teasingly as he spoke. "If you’re not wet already, I’ll stop. If you are, then I’m going to fuck you until you’re cumming on my cock. Deal?"

Her heartbeats quickened at his words. No, she didn’t like this game because there was no way she could win. Raven could feel how wet she was for him and how her body was preparing for his touch and his invasion.

She pushed against his shoulders. "Dean. Come on, you've gotta stop." Her whispered words faltered as his hand entered her panties, strong fingers pushing through her folds, feeling how slick she was for him.

"Fuck." He breathed out. "You’re so wet. All this for me, baby?"

Raven gave a mewling moan and sucked her lip into her mouth, biting it nervously. Their eyes met in one of the brief flashes of lightning, and in that instant, she knew she was done for. Those olive green eyes were dark with lust, and she found that she couldn’t resist him for a minute longer.

Her gaze flicked to the front seat, where she knew Sam was sleeping but couldn’t see him. Dean slipped a finger into her weeping entrance, and her hand flew to the back of his neck, dragging him to her so she could smash her mouth against his and stifle her moan.

Her hands were everything then, touching and ripping the shirt from his shoulders. His fingers pumped in and out of her wetness, the other hand working the buttons of her flannel shirt open so he could attack her tits with kisses and bites. He ripped her pants down her legs, leaving them wrapped around her knees.

Their touches were impassioned but awkward. The backseat was too small for them to spread out and strip the other naked, and it was hard to thoroughly explore the other's body, but that didn’t stop either of them.

Dean added a second finger to his assault on her core, and she arched her back to give him easier access, moaning his name into the kiss because the feeling of him stretching her was amazing. His thumb pressed hard on her clit, flicking it roughly as he drove his fingers in deeper, making her walls clench and suck him in.

Raven moaned harder, her teeth seizing his lip in a bite that had him growling. Their breaths mingled together, fogging the windows, as her hands explored the expanse of his chest, tracing every scar he had. She found one of his nipples and pinched it hard, making his fingers falter.

"Fucking tease." He muttered, and she laughed.

"So says the man feeling me up while his brother sleeps a foot away."

Dean drove a third finger into her, making her scream out loudly. He smothered her mouth with his opposite hand, cutting the noise before it got too loud, but he didn’t slow his thrusts. He used his entire arm to drive his fingers into her cunt, making her tits jiggle, and the wet sounds filled the car, even if it was hard to hear over the rain.

She was close. He could feel her walls tightening and then releasing and tightening again. "Quiet, baby. You don’t want Sam to wake up and see you like this, do you? All wet and hungry to cum? Or maybe you do. Maybe you want us both to take you. Really fill you up."

Raven was getting dizzy; his hand on her mouth made it harder to breathe, but it only drove her high and made her climax that much stronger. She came hard, her walls convulsing around his thick fingers, screaming into his palm, her nails digging into his shoulders.

He kept the pace the same and didn’t slow down as she came tumbling down from her high. He finger-fucked her through her orgasm, making it last longer than she thought possible. When she was done, a panting, writhing mess beneath him, Dean withdrew his hand, making her whine because she suddenly felt so empty.

A flash of lightning lit up the car. Dean was licking her slick from his fingers like a hungry kitten. It made colour creep up her neck and into her face, and it made her core clench hard around nothing. "Dean..." Her voice was drizzling with lust as she fumbled with his belt.

Dean grunted and slapped her hands away before making quick work of his belt and jeans, which he shoved down his hips. "I got you, babe."

He grabbed her legs behind her knees and practically folded her over. Raven gasped and then moaned when she felt his hard erection prod her wet folds.

He pushed her knees harder into her chest, pinning her, so that all she could do was clutch the seats, her nails scratching the fabric and leaving it marked. He rubbed the underside of her shaft against her, nudging her clit with his head until she was trying to buck her hips and get him inside her.

"Eager little thing," Dean mused before slamming inside her until her balls slapped against her arse and he was buried to the hilt. Raven screamed out, forgetting she was meant to be keeping quiet. She hadn’t felt so full before; his cock stretched her open, pressing against every nerve ending and then some. Her nails dug harder into the seat, her breathing coming faster, and when she wriggled against him impatiently, Dean knew it was time to move.

He drew back slowly, inch by inch, until only his swollen head was inside, and then slammed back in, making her cry out again and the car rock with the force. Her nails dug into his skin, raked down his back to pull him closer, her mouth on his, their breaths mingling together as he pistoned into her.

Neither of them noticed Sam watching in the mirror as he violently fisted his dick.

#dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester smut #dom!dean #dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester x raven #dean winchester x ofc smut #dean winchester x raven smut #supernatural #supernatural smut #supernatural fanfiction

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persephone11110 · 2 years

Text

kissing you during life and death

tom kazansky x reader

tw:sad w/happy ending, death, alzheimers diease, curse words

summary : her entire career she’s beaten death like no other, but this time around she can’t.

callsign:blackbird(reader likes to toe the line between life and death) ofc name: demetria kazansky

—

San Francisco CA, 09/09/89

“Oh geez just fucking kiss already” slider yelled across the bar at the two pilots. you looked back at your friend giving him the bird, Iceman gently grabbed your head making your lips crash together with his.

Your heart dropped to the bottom of your stomach, you Demetria Knight are kissing the Iceman. you’ve never felt this before in your entire life , kissing him felt life ending in a good way.

Till this day 30 plus years later kisssing your husband gave you life every fucking time.

When the doctor told Tom you had alzheimers, never in million years did he think his wife Blackbird could die by a diease, unlike this time a kiss wasn’t going to solve the heartache you both felt.

Telling the kids, something was wrong with their mother who’s beaten death over a thousands of time felt like hell. One of the few things you could remember was your son TJ sobbing aganist your chest begging you to tell him that the doctors wrong about the diagnosis. Lizzie laid her head on top of her father’s shoulder , weeping . Hearing the sobs of her children almost made her break apart even more than already had.

Surely right, you were only 58 years old, lived a somewhat healthy life. So why is death knocking on your door tonight?

You, Demetria Rose Kazansky have a date with death a person your very familiar with. Unlike the other times you and him talked , this time he told you werent making out alive this time.

You felt your life crashing down into pieces, you couldn’t remember a time you and death talked and he didn’t spare you.

You stood shell shock , staring at a painting of you and Tom both in your naval dress blues holding hands. There a detail you remembered by heart, you and Tom were equals in your marriage, you wanted to follow stereotypes and take pictures in a dress, Tom wasn’t having it and told you,“we both protect and serve , we both wear the uniform”.

You wanted to be Demetria Kazanksy again.

Ever day Alzheimers won aganist your brain making you forget about important and simple things.

The biggest thing you forgot was about Carole Bradshaw’s death, in your mind the woman was alive and healthy.

You and Carole talked for awhile she told you about how her and Goose were doing.

Walking in on this Tom felt his heart be repeatedly shattered with pain. Here’s his wife deteriorating and losing against death and their nothing he can to do stop it.

—-

Carole visited you again but this time you could feel the looming sadness coming off her.

“sweetie come with me when your ready” she told you grabbing your hands with tears sliding down her face. Before you could ask her what she meant she was gone back into the light.

The diease won in the end , you and Tom were in bed with your head against his chest.

“I love you the most”

“I love you til death do us apart” you whispered so softly as your voice lacked its usual base from all the crying you did earlier.

He kissed you one more time, your chest was taking awhile to go up and down,you and Tom both knew was this meant.

You never questioned Tom’s love for you, tonight he needed for you to remember this.

“I love you my darlin” he switched from being behind you to being next to you, gazing into your dark eyes.

Your dark eyes shut with one more final look at the man you loved with your entire heart.

Tom stood infront of a podium in his dress blues, talking to crowd of people at your funeral about you. Talking about how much he loved you was easiest task in the world, letting you go may never happen.

You walked across the aisle of people in uniform and people in black. You caught the sight of your granddaughter Rosie sobbing alongside her uncle and mother.

The look of Ron Kerner and Pete Mitchell crying made you take a double glance.

You walked towards your husband Tom touching his cheek lightly, kissing him on the side of his face.

He looked to the side“she’s right here with us in life and death. The tiniest tear fell down his face, he could’ve sworn he felt a kiss against his cheek.

“i’m ready Carole”, she wiped a tear from your face , wrapping her arms around your shoulder.

#top gun #tom kazansky #tom kazansky x reader

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c0ffeeboy · 26 days

Note

cw: agressive fluff

"hey, are you really this happy 24/7?" he scowls at me. "are you this grumpy 24/7?" i ask in return, pinching his cheeks. "yeah, but you already knew that." he says, slapping my hands away. "yeah, yeah, crabby face." i blow a raspberry at him.

"oi, look at my notes. i made them extra pretty because you were dozing off. figured you'd need them later." i push the wire-bound notebook towards him, flipping it open to the dog eared pages of today's class. he takes it from my hands, our fingers slightly brushing and i pull away too quick. "oh, thanks. i'll click pictures so that you can study later." he replies, pulling his phone out. "its okay! you can take it if you'd like. it's a pity i never study at home." i try to wink, but i fail and it looks uncool as heck.

"yeah, yeah. you never study. and you still manage to come out among the top 5 of the class during tests." he retorts. "oh well, i just write what i remember from class. if its correct it helps me score more!" i smile at him. he snaps my notebook shut and puts it in his bag. "hey, since you lent me the notebook, let me buy you something." "oh? what do you want to buy me?" i chuckle, not expecting a proper answer.

"i don't know, you want to get dinner or something?" he asks, nonchalantly. "you. want to get dinner. with me." i blink at him. "who are you and what have you done to my best friend?" i poke his cheek. "hey, let me be nice to you while it lasts. you want to get dinner or no?" he grabs my hand, not letting it go. "you keep doing these favours for me. let me do something for you too. i know i'm not that nice but, hey, you can let me try. please." he blushes, his voice shakier than normal. i realise that my face has turned beet red too and my heart is racing.

"i mean, its fine really, you don't have to do it because you feel obligated! i don't even need the notebook for a few days now-" "do you want to get dinner? yes or no? its a simple question." he cuts me off, his beautiful eyes staring right into my soul. "i... uhm, yeah. yeah. sure." i stammer out a reply. "see, that wasn't so bad." he lets go of my hand and gets up from his chair.

"where do you want to go?" he stretches, his hoodie riding up and showing a perfect strip of skin. i turn my face away before he realises that i'm gawking. "i don't know, i'm feeling indecisive. what do you want to eat?" i ask, trying to not yell out in happiness and utter disbelief at the fact that i'm getting dinner with my crush at his request. maybe all those times of being annoying and initiating contact really paid off.

he takes my hand and pulls me up from my chair, tugging me along with him outside of the classroom. "there's this new place near my dorm, i went there a week ago and its good. they do fried chicken, japanese food, and desserts. you said you'd been craving karaage and gyoza so maybe we could get those." he doesn't realise it, but i'm willing to eat out of a trashcan if it means i get to be with him. "yeah, sounds great." i smile at him, my heart full of love for this grumpy idiot.

🫀(blackbird)

ps: please excuse any and all mistakes augh! i'm okay now! i'm sorry if this one seems rambly, i didn't put much thought into it. i've been consuming too much romance anime lately and i need a break. i've been reading the mortal instruments too, and i looove magnus bane sooo much. the tv show did his hair dirty. if you ever post snippets if your book, do let me know! :)

excuse me as i go ugly sob from being so incredibly single

AHHHHHHH

that was so cute, like wtf no mistakes at all, i will think about this all week. also YES MORTAL INSTRUMENTS.

and i shall, once i actually start writing-

#🐦‍⬛ anon #mlm #gay mlm

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 1 year

Text

irishtimes.com

* * * *

Blackbird in Dun Laoghaire – a poem by Joseph O’Connor

Blackbird in Dun Laoghaire was read by Joseph O’Connor at the funeral of his sister Sinéad O’Connor ::

There’s a blackbird in Dun Laoghaire When I’m walking with my sons Through the laneways Called ‘The Metals’ By the train-tracks.

And he sings among the dandelions And bottle-tops and stones, Serenading purple ivy, Weary tree-trunks.

And I have it in my head That I can recognise his song, Pick him out, I mean distinct From all his flock-mates.

Impossible, I know. Heard one blackbird, heard them all. But there are times He whistles up a recollection.

There’s a blackbird in Dun Laoghaire – And I’m suddenly a kid, Asking where from here to Sandycove My youngest sister hid. I’m fourteen this Easter. My job to mind her. Good Friday on the pier – And I suddenly can’t find her.

The sky like a bruise By the lighthouse wall. We were playing hide-and-seek. Is she lost? Did she fall? There’s a blackbird in Dun Laoghaire And the terror’s like a wave Breaking hard on a hull, And the peoples’ faces grave

As Yeats on a banknote. Stern as the mansions Of Killiney in the distance, As the pier’s granite stanchions, And Howth is a drowned child Slumped in Dublin Bay, And my heart is a drum And the breakers gull-grey.

The baths. It starts raining. The People’s Park. And my tears and the terns, And the dogs’ bitter bark. There’s a blackbird in Dun Laoghaire, And I pray to him, then, For God isn’t here, In a sobbed Amen.

And she waves from the bandstand, Her hair in damp strings, And the blackbird arises With a clatter of wings From the shrubs by the teahouse, Where old ladies dream Of sailors and Kingstown And Teddy’s ice-cream.

And we don’t say a word But cling in the mizzle, And the whistle of the bird Getting lost in the drizzle. Mercy weaves her nest In the wildflowers and the leaves, There are stranger things in heaven Than a blackbird believes.

– Joseph O’Connor, 2010

#Irish Times #tribute #eulogy #obituary #poem #poetry #loss #Sinead O'Connor #Joseph O'Connor

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pullakori · 1 year

Text

Febuwhump 2023

Day 28. "You're safe now"

TW: Mentions of torture, Questoning of one's sense of reality, attempted suicide

Charles didn' know how long he had bee there. The grey stone walls of his cell had become his new reality. Every day, he would wake up and fall asleep with the sight of them. His captors never moved him from the cell, instead, they would come in and beat him, cut him and leave him bleeding. Many times Charles had thought, that he would die from his injuries, when the wounds became infected and he was delirious with fever. But every time, his captors brought him back.

They would not let him escape, not even by death.

They wanted to use his powers for their gain, they wanted the power to control anyone and everyone. And for that, they had to break Charles. But unfortunately for them, it would not happen. Charles' mind was his greatest strength. It didn't matter to him if his body was broken over and over again, those people would never break his mind. Charles just hoped that his captors would realise it sooner, rather than later and this all would finally end.

And end it did, just not how Charles had anticipated.

He was woken up by the door slamming open. The last day had been a hard one and every small movement caused him pain. So, he just curled deeper into himself on his thin mattress on the floor, hoping that whatever his captors were about to do would knock him quickly unconscious.

What he got instead, were careful hands running over his body, before he was pulled into someone's lap. Charles whined, as the movement made the pain of his body flare up.

"Charles?" The voice was familiar and Charles had to open his eyes to believe what he was hearing.

"Erik?" He was met with worried green eyes of his friend. "How..?" How was Erik here? No one shouldn't have even known that Charles was gone. He had left the school, he hadn't contacted anyone in any way.

"That's not important." Erik told him, holding him a little closer and stood up, his arms under the telepath's legs and back. Charles managed to move his aching arms around Erik's neck and rested his head against the older man's shoulder, breathing in his scent.

Erik carried him out of the room and the bright lights of the corridor forced Charles to close his eyes. He could smell iron in the air suggested just how violently Erik had forced his way into the prison.

"It's okay Charles." Erik murmured to Charles as they made their way through the corridor. "You're safe now." And it was only after those words, that Charles let himself go, letting the tears that he had been holding in for all this time to run down his cheeks as he sobbed quietly.

It was finally over.

But suddenly, he was let go and he fell on to the floor and Charles screamed in agony from the pain that the impact caused him. There was laughter and when Charles managed to push himself slightly up and open his eyes, he saw it was coming from Erik. It was disturbing, the voice was Erik's, but it didn't sound like him. Charles felt the terror grow inside of him. It was wrong. This was all wrong!

And like that, he snapped awake. He was still in his dimly lit cell, laying on his thin mattress and his body bruised and beaten. No Erik, no eerie laughter, no smell of blood. It had been a dream. A nightmare.

It dawned on Charles then, that his mind might not be as invinsible as he had thought.

...

The second time it happened, they made it outside. Charles was able to feel the fresh air and wind on his face for the first time in forever. It had felt so real that he had wept. And then he had woken up in the damned cell once again.

The third time it hadn't been Erik, but his students, his X-men, who had found him. They had been horrified to see their former headmaster in such state. They had gotten him out and in the blackbird. Hank had been there too and taken care of Charles' injuries. Charles had told him how sorry he was for everything that had happened, and this time, Hank had forgven him. Charles had cloaed his eyes as a huge weight felt like it had been lifted from his shoulders. When he opened them again, he was alone in his cell.

The fourth time, he had thought he was going to die from an infected wound on his back. The fever had made him delirious, and then he awoke in a strange infirmary. Erik was by his side and told him everything was alright. He had fallen asleep and woken up in that same comfortable cot multiple times, every time feeling a little better. Until one time he woke up back in the cell and for a while, he had thought that it was a nightmare. But no, it was the reality, and he didn't see that infirmary room again.

The fifth time, he had been adamant not to believe in his rescue. He fought Erik every step on the way, while the other man assured him that he was real and that Charles was finally safe. That he was free. Charles started to hope that it might be real after the first week he had spent in Genosha. Whatever drug his captors had given him had started to finally wear off and he had felt Erik's mind again. But right after that, he woke up in his cell again.

The sixth time, he stabbed himself with a kitchen knife and woke up.

The seventh, he drowned himself in a bathtub.

The eighth, Erik prevented him from shooting himself. They had both cried afterwards. Erik from the scare and Charles from the impossibility to know what was real anymore. Erik had stayed with Charles at all times after that and days went on. As Charles dared to hope that this time it might be real, the next morning he woke up in his cell. Again.

He had screamed until his voice was gone.

...

When Erik had heard rumours of a rogue mutant group that was causing trouble in the USA, he had started to keep a close eye on them. He could tell that they would be trouble and that was the last thing he wanted to bring to Genosha.

And eventually, he had heard that the group was building a some kind of a weapon to use against the humans. That was exactly what he would have been doing when he was still young and stupid. And it was somethig, that would most likely cause their people more harm than good.

So he contacted Beast, now the headmaster of Charles' school, and joined the X-men on the mission to make sure that the weapon would never see the light of day.

What they had found instead of a weapon, had made ice fill Erik's veins. It had been Charles, bruised and feverish in a dirty and cold cell. He had hurried to his friend's side and pulled him to his arms. The telepath haf let out a small whine as he was moved. He had seemed exhausted and malnourished, way too skinny and light in Erik's arms.

"Charles?" Erik had called his friend's name, trying to wake him up at least a little, if it wad possible.

But Charles had just shook his head slightly.

"No... Please no more..." He had sobbed and tried to push Erik away.

"It's alright Charles." Erik had hurried to assure the distressed man. "It's me, Erik. We're here to get you out. You're safe now." But his words hadn't seemed to comfort Charles. On the contrary, his actions had only seemed to distress the other man more.

It was only in the infirmary of the mansion that he realised just how severe the situation was.

Charles had woken up few times for short perioids of time as he was recovering. Every time he had been convinsed that none of this was real. That he hadn't been saved and that Erik was not actually there.

"He is still recovering, and the trauma might be making him paranoid." Beast had explained. Erik could tell that he was feeling conflicted about the situation. He and Charles hadn't parted ways in the best of terms, but Erik doubted that he would have wanted anything like this to happen to the telepath. The younger X-men were clearly worried about their former professor.

Which was the reason why Erik was relieved that none of them were there when Charles woke up properly.

Erik was sitting on a chair beside Charles' bed and reading a book. He hadn't left Charles' side almost at all on the days that he had been recovering. Only leaving for a quick shower at one point, otherwise, he ate and slept in the recovery room.

The was a grunt from the bed and Erik was in high alert immediately. He closed his book and leaned closer to his friend, watching as he blinked his eyes open. But, to his dismay, he could see Charles' eyes fill with hopelessness once again as he looked around.

"No, no no no..." The telepath almost sobbed and Erik stood up from his chair so they could see each other better.

"Shhhh. It's alright Charles, you're safe. Youre back at the school." He tried to comfort his friend, trying to cover his hand with his, but Charles pulled his hand away like it burned.

"No! This is not real! You are not real!" Charles tried to scream, his voice horase from the lack of usage.

"Charles, please calm down." Erik tried to de-escalate the situation. Charles was clearly still out of it, but the problem was, that now he was bow much more mobile. Erik saw how his eyes darted around, until they stopped at the glass pitcher with water in it on the bedside table on the other side.

Erik didn't have time to move, when Charled pushed himself off the bed, pulling different medical equipments off of him and dropping to the floor, bringing the bedside table and the pitcher down with him.

"Charles!" Erik yelped as he started to round the bed..The pitcher broke into pieces and caused a puddle of water and small shards spread on the floor. Some of them cut Charles, but the telepath didn't seem to notice them, snatching a bigger piece in to his hand instead and brought it to his throat.

"No!" Erik screamed and gripped Charles' wrist which held the piece of glass and pulled it away from his neck.

"No!" Charles sobbed, trying to fight Erik, but in his state, he was bo match to the other man. Erik forced the telepath's hand open and drop the piece of glass and saw small cuts on his palm.

"Just let me wake up!" Charles tried to scream as Erik gathered him into his arms and away from the shards on the floor. His own pants were already getting wet, but he didn't really care as Charles tried to weakly fight him off.

"Please, Charles, this is real. Please believe me..." Erik didn't know how to convince his friend of the fact that he truly was safe now, so he just held him and rocked him, hoping that at least some of it could offer him some kind of comfort.

Charles' energy to fight was soon drained and he just cried silently against Erik's chest, muttering every now and then about how he just wanted to wake up. Every time Erik murmured to him, that he would be there every time Charles opened his eyes again, that this was real and that he was safe.

#no proof reading #it's almost midnight #you have been warned #charles whump #febuwhump 2023 #charles xavier #cherik #erik lehnsherr #this was the last one #thank you everyone for reading liking reblogging and leaving notes #it was truly the reason why i managed to write something for every day

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justonemorewallflower · 26 days

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Hello, another update!! Last time my cousin and I watched BSG we got through Home Part 1 through Epiphanies.

So here's a quick update about her thoughts to all those episodes:

She was ECSTATIC about the Starpollo kiss haha she literally threw her hands up in excitement when it happened then was annoyed when the scene immediately became tense because of Sharon walking in. She thought the kiss was super random but she definitely wasn't mad about it.

Later when Lee talks to Kara in the brig after he had talked to Sharon and tells Kara she isn't the one who should be telling him what to do my cousin said, "brother you literally kissed her." 🤣

She thought the scene where Lee told her he loved her was cute. And she thought it was funny when Kara teased him about it. My cousin was literally the definition of kicking her feet and giggling during this scene.

She was pretty stressed for all the Kobol stuff especially when Elosha stepped on a trap and Tom and his buddy were planning to take out Lee and his dad.

When they found the tomb of Athena and had the vision with all the constellations it just dawned on her that all the colonies were named after the constellations lmao. It took her that long 🤣😭

She still hates Ellen lol she gets so annoyed every time she's on screen haha. She also kind of figured D'Anna was a Cylon so she wasn't surprised to find that out.

She thought the Blackbird was pretty cool. She was annoyed with Helo and Chief fighting over Sharon. She thought it was super cute how everyone signed the ship and they named it after Laura.

She HATED Cain and understandably so.

She hated what happened with Sharon and Helo and Chief and was glad that Thorne died and that Helo and Chief didn't get executed for intervening.

She was SUPER stressed when Kara was given the task to kill Cain and Fisk had the task to kill Bill. As well as Lee just casually dying during all that too. She was so stressed haha and was relieved when Lee got saved and Fisk nor Kara had to murder anyone.

She was glad Gina killed Cain though. She was just glad Cain died haha.

In Epiphanies she really thought Laura was gonna die. She was confused and shocked when Bill kissed her towards the end of the episode.

Also in the one scene Lee and Dee have where their faces ended up close during like fighting practice she did the same thing she had done to Kara and Sam where she went, "get away!" 🤣

She's gonna absolutely hate how those relationships develop and how it'll be both of the pairs she doesn't like.

Also I asked her some thoughts on current ships/couples like which ones she thinks will make it to the end and all and regarding Kara and Lee she thinks they're endgame for sure and I'm just over here sobbing like just wait your opinion on that is about to change real quick and you're gonna be so disappointed/upset 😭

Also at one point where Kara was in danger I made a joke to her about her dying too (this was like after episode where Lee almost died) and she said "she can't die she's a pop figure." And I'm just over here like oh how wrong you are... she's going to be so upset haha

***

Anyway those were her biggest/main thoughts from our last watch session. Today we are going to watch more and I'm so curious because we'll be starting off on Black Market which is bleh but I'll be curious to see her thought on that episode especially since Lee is one of her favorite characters. And I'm also curious to see her reaction to Scar because that is an interesting episode too and pretty Kara centered which is another one of her favorite characters. I also can't wait for her to watch Sacrifice because she is going to be devastated about Billy (in the past episodes at one point she literally said how he can't die and she likes him). She's also gonna be sad about Lee. Like poor Lee can't get a break he gets seriously injured/has near death experiences like 3 times within 5 episodes 😭😭

I am also excited to see her thoughts on Razor!

I'm not sure how much further she and I will make it into season two, I'm kind of hoping we'll finish the season but that's me being optimistic about our time, etc.

I shall keep y'all posted :)

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wqintraining · 1 year

Text

NEW X-MEN: THE ANIMATED SERIES - SEASON 2, EPISODE 1

Season 2 opens in media res as the Blackbird flies toward Genosha. The only ones still on the plane are Storm, Kitty, and Sunspot. While Kitty panics and screams, and Roberto tries in vein to assure her it’s going to be okay, barely maintaining his own plastered smile, Storm is communicating with Captain Britain, who thinks she shouldn’t have left, but Storm insists her priority needs to be getting all the kids home so they can be tended to properly, and securing Nova.

All three of them uncontrollably go silent as they arrive at their destination and look out the window, Genosha has been completely annhlated, reduced to ash and rubble, with smoke filling the sky. 16 million people, almost all Mutants, potentially including Scott, Jean, Emma, Magneto, and Kitty’s dad, are all dead.

With Storm blowing away and working to clear the smoke, the three heroes, wearing respirators, rush onto what’s left of the once great Mutant nation. All around them, they seed wrecked buildings and corpses, and Sunspot accidentally steps on and breaks a bone.

Kitty and Sunspot are barely holding it together as they stand on the site of a holocaust, unable to believe so much death could have taken place so quickly, and struggling to not cry or puke, but Storm, somber and sullen, but keeping her emotions in check for the moment, tells them they can’t break down yet. They have a job to do. There’s a chance some people may have survived, and are just trapped under rubble. They have to do everything they can to find them.

Before they start searching the whole island, however, Kitty “needs to know”.

Back at the school, Tag, Wind Dancer, Wolverine, and Bling! stand outside the medical bay. Laura’s face is practically right up against the glass, while Brian has a comforting arm around the nearly-sobbing Roxy’s shoulders.

Inside, Beast, as well as Dr. Cecilia Reyes, who was called in to help treat everyone else who was wounded in the global battles with the sentinels, are tending to the kids. Cessily and Sooraya are still unconscious, but are stable, Noriko is awake in bed, but can’t stop shaking and looking at her gauntlets, even though all the blood has been cleaned off of them, and Julian is being prepped for surgery. Betsy is also having her wounds treated, with Rachel hugging her, relieved she survived the battle, but disturbed by what Betsy told her happened.

BRIAN, to Roxy: “Hey, Cess is gonna be okay. You heard what Dr. Reyes said, right?”

Roxy just hangs her head.

BRIAN, to Sofia: “You don’t need to worry either, Sofia. It’ll take more than some sentinel to keep Julian down.”

Sofia maintains her blank expressions, staying silent, and tiny whirlwinds surround her fists.

Brian sighs and walks over to Laura.

BRIAN, to Laura: “You know, a sentinel did come by here. Ms. Grey was all ready to take it out, but I tagged myself so she could get rid of it away from the school. It wasn’t much, but it made me feel pretty good. And I was just thinking about how good all of you must have been feeling taking out a ton of these tincans.” Brian punches the glass. “I’m such an idiot.”

It’s unclear if Laura heard a word Brian said as her wide eyes continue to stay focused on her injured friends.

On Genosha, Kitty drops to her knees. The site of her father’s old home has been completely annhilated, along with the rest of its surroundings. It doesn’t even look like there’s a skeleton.

KITTY: “Daddy…Daddy, I’m sorry. Daddy, please crawl out of there. Please!”

Storm and Beto try to comfort her, but they phase right through her.

KITTY: “Did you know in Judaism, it’s believed that cremation results in pain after death? Even if someone makes it to Heaven, the pain doesn’t stop. How could I do this to him? He was my Daddy.”

SUNSPOT: “Kitty, you didn’t–”

Kitty breaks down in tears, hysterical. Storm sheds her own tear, wishing there was something, anything she could do for her daughter. But there’s nothing she can do but push forward. Ororo instructs Beto to stay with Kitty, and get her on the Blackbird once she’s calmed down. She’ll handle the search by herself.

We get a brief montage as Storm scours the island for any signs of life, but is met with death at every turn. She’s almost ready to break down in tears herself when she hears something rumbling.

Flying up, she clears away the rubble around where the sound heard like it was coming from. Underneath, she finds Emma Frost, with Cyclops unconscious in her arms, a blank expression on her face, and sporting a new look - diamond skin.

Storm swoops down and swiftly takes Scott from her, checking his pulse and breathing a sigh of relief that he’s alive. Ororo demands to know what happened here, and what happened to her.

Emma…isn’t doing okay.

EMMA, in a monotone: “The path to Hell is paved with good intentions, but over brimstone we must walk to reach paradise. Do you hear them, Ororo? Do you hear the children’s screams?” Emma forms a tiny smile. “I do. And I feel all their pain. How many children are there? As many as the grains of sand on a beach?” Emma’s face falls as she hangs her head. “Yes, Daddy, I am a bad, worthless girl.”

Storm has no idea what to feel here, or what to stay, so she simply instructs Emma to follow her.

In the medical bay, Sooraya’s eyes flicker as she wakes up. She struggles to sit up, seeing that Cessily is still unconscious, before she’s told to lay back down.

SURGE: “The others are waiting outside, but aren’t being allowed in yet. You should rest.”

Sooraya lays back down, grunting in pain as she expresses how much everything hurts. She then notes that Noriko doesn’t look like she was hurt at all.

Noriko bites her lip as she looks down at her hands and generates a small amount of electricity between her fingertips. The Sentinels weren’t fast enough to hit her. Physically, she got out of the fight completely unscatched. But seeing her and Mercury nearly get killed? Watching Julian get his hands blown off, and having to grab his bloody nubs to cauterize his wounds so he didn’t die too? It was too much. She’s not okay.

Dust doesn’t respond for a moment, just staring at Nori.

NORIKO: “What?”

SOORAYA: “Julian…lost his hands?”

Noriko swears under her breath, having forgotten she was down by the time that happened, and confirms to her what went down.

SOORAYA: “I see.”

Noriko narrows her eyes at Sooraya.

NORIKO: “Okay, what’s your deal? I know being all calm and zen and peaceful and quiet is your shit and all, but you should not be that way right now. You almost died! Where’s the panic?!”

Sooraya sighs. She really wishes she hadn’t woken up next to Nori.

SOORAYA: “I was hurt physically, yes. And I lack experience in all this directly. But nearly dying? No, that’s not enough to get me. Not with what I’ve seen before. Not with what I’ve done before.”

Noriko falls back, slamming her head on her pillow.

NORIKO: “Shit, Soo. I forgot. I’m sorry.”

Sooraya smirks.

SOORAYA: “The fact that you’re apologizing for your foolishness at all is a clear sign of progress.”

NORIKO: “Aww, thanks.”

PAUSE

NORIKO: “Oh, screw you.”

On the Blackbird, which hasn’t taken off yet, Cyclops is still unconscious, Emma has passed out, and Kitty is curled up into a ball. Storm and Sunspot are awake and sitting up right, but they need this brief moment of silence.

The silence is broken as the ship shakes. Storm and Sunspot leap to their feat, unsure of what’s going on as, from an exterior shot, we see the ship being raised into the sky on its own. Storm tells the others to stay put for a minute while she goes to investigate.

Ororo flies out of the ship and quickly finds the one responsible for its movement: Polaris.

ORORO: “Lorna…”

Before Storm can say anything else, Lorna throws the Blackbird, wrapped in green magnetic energy, right at her. Ororo just barely dodges the attack, shouting at Lorna that they aren’t here to fight, and, over the coms, shouting at Kitty to get everyone off the plane.

As Lorna takes another shot at Storm with the Blackbird, Kitty phases herself, Beto, and the unconscious headmasters out of the plane and onto the former shore of Genosha, while Storm summons a fierce lightning blast to annhilate the Blackbird in one shot, denying Polaris her weapon.

Storm tells Polaris that she can’t imagine what she’s feeling right now, but she assures her slivers of that pain are shared by them all. Polaris just continues to shout in rage as she drags up rubble from Genosha to throw at Storm.

POLARIS: “You X-Men killed our nation! It’s only fitting the nation kills you!”

On the shore, Kitty and Beto are panting. Beto tries to tell Kitty he knows Lorna from his time here and he’ll talk to her, only to be decked across the face by an equally pissed, super fast Quicksilver.

Knocked to the ground, Roberto is covered in ash. He freaks out as Pietro gets on top of him and begins punching him over and over again. Kitty doesn’t move, only crying out for him to stop.

In the sky, Storm is exhausted both physically and mentally from the day’s events. She fights against Lorna to the best of her ability, but she quickly runs out of steam and is overwhelmed.

As Roberto is beaten to a bloody pulp and Lorna traps Storm in a metal cocoon, ready to crush her, Kitty continues to shout, begging for everyone to stop fighting.

The fighting is brough to a halt, but not by Kitty, as a single blast of red energy flies into the sky.

Cyclops, having woken up, rises to his feet.

All eyes turn to him. There’s a silent moment of tension before Polaris and Quicksilver release Storm and Sunspot from their respective grips, flying and running over to Cyclops.

QUICKSILVER: “You have five seconds to tell us what happened here in a way that makes us want to spare your lives.”

Scott, standing tall and proud, looks around at his surroundings instead of answering.

QUICKSILVER: “SPEAK!”

Pietro slugs Scott across the face, knocking out a tooth, and sending him to the ground.

QUICKSILVER: “SPEAK NOW!”

Tears stream down Scott’s face.

Quicksilver is about to give him the same treatment as he did Roberto, but Lorna puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

POLARIS: “One chance, Cyclops.”

Scott swallows.

CYCLOPS: “Magneto is alive.”

Pietro and Lorna are baffled by how that could possibly be true. Everyone here died! Scott tells them that he and Emma were here when the attack happened. They only survived because Emma developed a secondary Mutation, enabling her to transform her skin into diamond. He only lived because she shielded him from the blast. And before the attack happened, Magneto had disappeared from where he’d been fighting sentinels.

Pietro calls him a liar. He’s just trying to protect himself this way because he knows this is all his fault!

Cyclops agrees that he shares blame with Cassandra Nova. Cassandra Nova, who, from the fact they’re here right now, he knows his team defeated. He knows his team defeated her, while he and Emma were saving the world, even if they couldn’t save Genosha.

CYCLOPS: “Nova wasn’t the first mad woman to try and kill us all, and she won’t be the last. Whatever I’ve done, the mutants of the world still need the X-Men. And you both need us and our resources if you’re ever going to find out what happened to your father.”

Pietro, breathing heavily, thinks about his offer, before still electing to go in for the kill. However, Polaris holds him back by his metal belt buckle. Lorna agrees that he and his team are still needed, but they will never be forgiven for this.

CYCLOPS: “I wouldn’t expect to be.”

With the situation calming down, Storm approaches, offering to do whatever they can to help pay tribute to their fallen.

LORNA: “If you wish to respect our dead brothers and sisters, you’ll leave this place now, and never return.”

With no more words, Storm summons a calm wind to lift herself and the rest of the team away, and begin the long flight home. Beneath them, Lorna breaks into tears and cries on Pietro’s shoulder as he holds her.

CYCLOPS: “Ororo…”

STORM: “Not now, Scott. Not now.”

In a private room inside the Institute’s medical bay, Hellion has gotten out of surgery and is awake. All the usual life and energy from his face are missing, replaced by a dower scowl. That’s not the only part of him that’s missing, as his nubs have been wrapped in bandages; they couldn’t re-attach his hands.

There’s a knock on the door, with Julian growling not to come in if this isn’t a doctor. Beast enters, happy to see him stable, and asks if that attitude applies to ALL non-medical personnel.

BEAST, with a sly smirk: “Your girlfriend wants to speak to you. She’s been positively worried sick.”

Julian’s eyes widen, but only for a moment, before he shuts them, clenches his teeth, and shakes his head.

In the hallway, Sofia and Laura sit outside the private room, both in complete silence. Beast comes out of the room and informs Sofia that, unfortunately, Mr. Keller doesn’t wish to speak to anyone right now.

BEAST: “I’m sorry. But I’m sure you can imagine what he must be going through.”

Sofia glares at Beast, small whirlwinds once again surrounding her fists and expanding rapidly as a breeze fills the hallway. Beast is concerned, but before things can do any further, Sofia breathes and halts the use of her powers.

SOFIA: “I understand, Dr. McCoy. Thank you.”

Beast, still not entirely at ease, acknowledges her and walks away. Sofia tries to hold Laura’s hand, but, without looking at her, Laura bats it away.

With the sun rising as a new day dawns, Emma’s woken up and is completely composed, but Storm is still flying her, herself, Cyclops, Kitty, and Sunspot home. Everyone is silent, until…

STORM: “What happened to Jean?”

Scott takes a moment to answer. He informs her that she’s gone. She wanted Genosha dead, and she wanted them dead with it. Then, she flew off into space. Even if she does come back to Earth, the Jean they knew doesn’t exist anymore. Now and forever, she is Phoenix.

Storm finally allows herself to breakdown and cry over the loss of her sister on top of everything else. Scott wipes his own tears from his eyes with his arm.

EMMA, telepathically to Scott: “It isn’t the type of advice I usually give, but if there were ever a time to let your emotions out freely, it’s now.”

SCOTT, telepathically: “You’re not my therapist, and I don’t want your advice on anything. Especially when you’re not even following it.”

EMMA, telepathically and mockingly: “Oh no, you caught me, I’m as devastated on the inside as the rest of you. I have a heart. Sew me. But I do what’s best for me, and you should do what’s best for you.”

SCOTT, telepathically: “You don’t know the first thing about what’s best for me.”

Emma scoffs.

EMMA, telepathically: “A “thank you” for saving your life would have been nice.”

As Storm continues to sob, Kitty hugs her. She was comforting her all night, and she wants to return the favor. But she also needs help. Her father’s body may be good, but he still deserves a funeral as soon as possible, as per Jewish tradition.

KITTY: “Maybe working on that would help keep our minds off everything else?”

Storm sniffles as she smiles and nods.

STORM: “Yes, Kitty. I’d be happy to help.”

In the back of the pack, Roberto is literally steaming, hate in his eyes.

Storm, completely exhausted, lands the team in Central Park. They can walk from here. However, as the other four members of the team start heading toward the school, Beto walks in the opposite direction.

CYCLOPS: “Where do you think you’re going, Sunspot?”

SUNSPOT: “Relax. I’m not quitting or anything. But you’ll excuse me if I need a couple weeks to myself. I’ll be back soon. Try not to miss me too much.”

Scott calls after him as he departs, but he doesn’t have the energy for that right now, and let’s him go.

In the medical bay, Roxy excitedly hugs Cessily, thrilled her new girlfriend is okay. She does accidentally hug a little too tight and hurt her though. Brian is also inside the medical bay, helping the still injured Sooraya in getting into position for her morning prayers. Noriko is noticeably no longer here.

Sofia floats above the school. The bodies outfront have all been cleaned up, but the foul stench remains, causing her nose to wrinkle.

LAURA, over the winds: “Hey.”

Sofia turns her head and sees Laura, out of costume, standing on the roof.

SOFIA, over the winds: “Hello, Laura. I’m glad you’re speaking again.”

Laura takes a deep breath.

LAURA, over the winds: “I…I’m so sorry.”

SOFIA: “Sorry? For brushing me off before? Do not worry about it.”

LAURA: “No. No, not for that. I’m sorry I took you all out to fight. None of you were ready. And most of you were hurt. Especially Julian. Because of me.”

Sofia tells her that’s not true, and no one’s thinking that, but Laura snaps back that she’s not a telepath, and none of them are stupid enough to not know she’s the one to blame.

Sofia, keeping her cool, flies down to the rooftop to look the brooding Wolverine in the eyes. Wind Dancer insists if what happened was anyone’s fault, it’s her own. Laura wasn’t entirely wrong. Herself, Surge, and Dust? They WERE ready. Hellion and Mercury weren’t though. If she just followed Kitty’s orders and got them out of there instead of encouraging them to fight, they wouldn’t have been harmed.

Laura counters that Sofia can’t blame herself. She’s just a student. She was the X-Man there, and she should have been more responsible.

LAURA: “I wanted to keep you all safe. But I didn’t want you all thinking I didn’t trust you. You’re some of the only people I do.”

Sofia appreciates that, but reminds Laura that SHE’S a student too. She may be the best there is as what she does, but there’s still a lot she doesn’t do. But she will. And they’ll learn. Together.

Laura continues to hang her head in shame in spite of Sofia’s kind word, only to start giggling uncontrollably as Sofia uses the wind to tickle her nose.

LAURA, giggling: “Stop that.”

SOFIA: “I would, but I like it more when you smile. I’d rather not have to force it.”

Laura laughs for real as Sofia takes her hand and flies them off the room.

SOFIA: “Come. Brian texted me Cessily woke up. We should go say hello.”

As Sofia flies them to their destination, Laura makes puppy eyes at her. She clearly still isn’t over her.

In his office, Scott is being swarmed with phone calls. As much as he’d love to be resting, he can’t sleep yet, even as he’s barely keeping his eyes open. Xavier’s old friends and allies demand to know what’s going on, parents are hearing about what happened on the news and are worried about their kids’ safety, old X-Men are freaking out just as much (Cannonball is the one we hear calling, with him worried about his sister Melody), and mixed into all of this are the usual prank calls Scott receives from anti-Mutant bigots, with them today calling just to shout that the rest of the Muties are next.

Scott is working with multiple phones and computer monitors and trying to keep track of everything, but it’s all too much. Sweat drips down his face, his heart pounds against his chest, and it seems like the worst may be about to happen.

Before that can happen, however, his seat is rolled away from his desk, forcing him away from all his screens. Emma, as she’s one to do, leans against the doorway with a flask in hand.

EMMA: “You’re not going to do us much good if you kill yourself, darling.”

Scott knows he says this a lot, but right now, he really does NOT have time for her. Emma laughs, coming further into the office. He can’t seriously want for things to go back to how they were between them, can he?

SCOTT: “What we did caused all of this happen. All of those Mutants are only dead because of us.”

EMMA: “No, they’re dead because your mentor loves his secrets, his bitch of a sister is a monster, humans hate us as much as they ever have and were happy to do all her dirty work, and your wife is a vengeful god whose been ready to snap at the slightest provocation.”

SCOTT: “Do NOT talk about Jean.”

EMMA: “I’m not insulting her. I’m calling it like it is. We played a role in Genosha’s destruction, yes. But it was a tiny one. We did not destroy Genosha. Like you told Magneto, WE saved the world.”

Scott stands up and walks over to Emma.

SCOTT: “You don’t believe a word you just said.”

EMMA: “Excuse me?”

SCOTT: “Exactly what I said. You’re blaming yourself as much as I am. You’ve never forgiven yourself for the Hellions or Synch and Skin, and I’m supposed to believe you don’t wish you’d died with the rest of them like I do? Please.”

Emma tries to maintain her front, but her wall is broken down as she hangs her head in shame.

EMMA: “If we’re stuck going on, we owe it to the four million of us still alive to do everything in our power to protect them.”

SCOTT: “I couldn’t agree more.”

EMMA: “Good.” Emma picks up her head, and, with it, puts back on her usual game face. “Then scootch over and let me handle half those screens so we may share the weight of the burden.”

Scott hesitates before agreeing and making room for her behind his desk.

SCOTT: “Thank you, Emma.”

EMMA: “You’re welcome, Scott.”

PAUSE

SCOTT: “Scott?”

EMMA: “We’re a little past, “Mr. Summers”, don’t you think?”

The two share a smile for just a moment before they get back to work.

Surge walks through the school’s hallways. Word of what’s happened has spread, but with the details only known by a select few, rumors are mixed in.

“Is Genosha really gone?”

“They can’t all be dead, right? No one can kill Magneto.”

“I heard it was aliens.” “You mean like the Shi’ar?” “No, stupid, Mutants are friends with the Shi’ar!”

“How long before we’re next?”

Noriko arrives at her destination and knocks on a door. Kitty tells her to come in.

Surge enters Kitty’s bedroom, which Noriko mutters under her breath could be confused for any teen girl’s here if not for her wall of degrees. She and Storm are seated on her bed, binder on their laps, deciding what to do for Carmen’s service.

Noriko tries to say hi and ask how they’re doing, but it all ends up coming out super fast and incomprehensible.

Kitty gets up and hugs her, Noriko’s uncontrolled electricity phasing right through her.

KITTY: “I’m living. More importantly, how are you?”

NORIKO: “I…really don’t need a therapist right now.” Nori pulls away. “Shit sucks. We all know it. We’re all scared. We’re fucked and probably going to die. I was kinda hoping I could just hang out with you and take my mind off things. Not like any of my squad are up for that.”

Kitty, first off, promises her that they aren’t going to die. The X-Men aren’t going to let that happen. But right now, if she needs a distraction, this isn’t the place to be.

KITTY: “My daddy lived on Genosha. He’s gone now, just like all those Mutants. Storm and I are just trying to figure out what to do for him.”

To Kitty’s surprise, Surge jumps at the chance to help. As Nori explains, Kitty’s always been better to her than any other teacher here besides Dani. Even when she was a bitch to her. And she wants to support her in turn. Plus, a task to focus on is a task.

Kitty smiles, and Ororo offers Noriko to come take a seat with them. Kitty and Nori sit down, and the three get back to work.

Still alone in his private medical room, Julian seethes with his eyes clenched shut. Opening them, he attempts to telekinetically bring a cup of water left for him up to his lips, instead of bending over to sip, but he ends up dropping it and spilling the water all over himself.

JULIAN: “DAMMIT!”

Julian re-shuts his eyes and is about to start crying when the door creaks open. He tells McCoy to go away, but Beast isn’t here.

“I do hope that isn’t a desire to give up I’m sensing, Mr. Keller.”

Julian opens his eyes and sees Emma.

EMMA: “After all, you still have so much potential. It would be a pity to waste it.”

Julian rolls over on his side and asks how she could possibly still think that looking at him now. He’s a damn cripple! Emma is quick to remind him that the founder of this school, and one of the most powerful and accomplished Mutants alive is wheelchair bound. Especially with the gifts he possesses, there’s nothing he can’t do now that he couldn’t do before.

Julian brushes that comment off and asks if they’ve told his parents what happened. Emma tells him she just got off the phone with them. The hung up as soon as she confirmed he was still alive.

JULIAN: “Yeah. Sounds right. Bastards.”

Emma tells him that, while this specifically isn’t something she’s experienced, she can imagine how he’s feeling. To go through such horrible trauma and pain, with your parents not giving a damn. To feel like all is lost and it’s not worth it to keep going. She knows these feelings well.

EMMA: “But you have something important that I did not. You have friends who care about you. Who’d do anything for you. You have Sofia. When I was at my lowest, I hardened my heart so that I could never be hurt again. Doing so only served to make me even more miserable. Don’t repeat my mistakes.”

She believes in him. And from Kitty’s report of what she witnessed in his battle with the sentinels, she knows she can still make a hero out of him a yet. A great one.

Julian seems like he’s gotten the message, but remains despondent. He thanks her, but he’d really like some privacy. As she leaves however…

JULIAN: “Wait…what ended up happening with Nova? And Ms. Grey?”

EMMA: “...get some sleep.”

We cut directly to Cassandra Nova. She’s in a secured jail cell, fully restrained, with a device on her head to block her telepathy. In spite of this, she has the widest grin on her face.

Scott and Emma enter this underground level of the Insitute, where they find Betsy and Rachel, who’ve been guarding Nova. Rachel in enraged upon seeing her dad and flies over to him, encased in her fiery aura.

RACHEL: “You have a lot of nerve coming down here with her.”

SCOTT: “There’s work to do, Rachel. Right now, we need to speak with Cassandra. But…please stay. I was actually hoping you might–”

RACHEL: “Dad, if you’re about to ask us to stay here and join your team, I’ll burn you where you stand.”

Scott hangs his head once again, while Rachel’s angered is somewhat quelled as a purple aura surrounds her, her wife mentally comforting her from a distance. Betsy then walks up to her and hooks her arm around hers. If they have this covered, they’ll be taking their leave now.

BETSY: “Well done proving you’ll never be anything but a bitch, Emma.”

EMMA: “Thank you, Captain. It’s what I strive to do everyday.”

As the two telepaths depart, Betsy telepathically tells Scott that she and Rachel will be returning to protecting the rest of the multiverse.

BETSY: “Do try to not let this one universe burn on your watch.”

With that, Captain Britain and Prestige leave.

Scott sighs. Emma tells him Rachel will forgive him one day. Ideally by then, she’ll actually understand what her deal is.

Scott and Emma enter Nova’s cell and confront her. She opens the conversation with mockery, asking how the ashes of Genosha smelled. Oh, how she wishes she could have smelled them herself. Losing to Storm and the others was very much not part of her plan, she wasn’t going to stop until all Mutants were dead, but she’ll just have to settle for slightly over 75% of them.

NOVA: “What ARE you planning on doing with me now? Hmm? Are you just going to keep me locked up here forever? Surely you could never trust SHEILD to keep me secure. Or maybe you’re going to kill me. Just like you did Stryker, Cyclops. Just like you have COUNTLESS people, Emma.”

Scott asks if he she truly feels no remorse, with Nova answering that she isn’t capable of feeling such a thing. Say, has he TOLD anyone what he did to Stryker yet? She imagines that will be a fun conversation.

She cackles.

NOVA: “Hmm. No. No, you haven’t. And that’s not all I’m sensing.” She looks right into Emma’s eyes, with hers bulging out. “You have no intention of leaving this room with me alive. Are you going to let this happen, Scott?”

Rather than answer, Scott has one more question for her. Her plan HINGED on Dark Phoenix. If she’d just unleashed those sentinels without her present, they would have been able to stop them, AND take her down much more easily.

Nova cackles. Oh, she’s so glad he asked.

NOVA: “Did you think the Purifiers popped into thin air? No, no, no. My plan began over one year ago. Just after the old X-Men broke up. Not only did I make contact with Styker and begin building my army of gullibe expendables, but I made contact with someone else - the Phoenix. While you and Jean were enjoying your vacation from do-gooding, I was speaking with the primal force inside her. It respected my power, and way I’d fought to cling to the life I was owed. And in turn, I respected it. The most powerful force in the universe. The most perfect. And I was sure to remind it of this. How it was beyond all other beings. And how if it was going to choose to continue living among humans, it deserved the best from them. Slowly but surely, it began to influence Jean more and more. And you didn’t even notice. Because while she may have been acting too good to be true, that was how every single one of you saw her already. All it would take now would be one good push to send her flying over the edge. One betrayal.”

Nova cackles again as a horrified look of realization materializes on Scott’s face.

NOVA: “I had no way of knowing you and Emma would sleep together though! That was Christmas morning for me! My plan was just to have William break you and force you to kill him, and let that one act slowly break apart your relationship, but then you went and betrayed her in such a more personal way that very same night! All of this was inevitable, but thank you so much, Cyclops, for speeding up my timeline!”

Nova continues to cackle. And cackle. And cackle. And cackle and cackle and cackle and cackle.

Until she can’t cackle anymore.

With a single blast, Cyclops blows her head off.

Scott is frozen. He shows no signs of regret over what he just did, but he needs a moment to process it. Emma holds his hand.

EMMA: “There was no other way.”

CYCLOPS: “Nothing she said changes anything. We’ll never know if her original plan would have worked, or if she only succeeded because of us.” Scott pauses. “You don’t need to take the fall for Stryker’s death. Or for this. I’ll tell them everything.” He pauses once more. “Thank you for saving my life.”

Emma weakly smiles and rests her head on Scott’s shoulder. Scott rests his head on hers.

With sunset having arrived, Storm, Kitty, and Surge are gathered in the school’s cemetery. There was no body to bury. They couldn’t even tell which ashes were his. But they could at least give him a tombstone.

Wrapped in a tallit, Kitty reads from a Hebrew prayer book, while Storm and Surge struggle not to cry. The prayer ends with them all saying “Amen”, and Kitty’s mother and student holding her.

In his room, Julian is eating dinner, struggling but managing to use his form with his telekinesis. Once more, there’s a knock on his door. He sighs and tells whoever it is to come in. He knows they will anyway.

His eyes widen as Sofia enters.

Julian starts asking her not to look at him like this, but she cuts him off, exclaiming how fully of joy she is that he’s okay.

JULIAN: “Okay? Do I look okay?”

Sofia flies over so that she’s next to him.

SOFIA: “You are alive. That is all that’s important to me.”

She slowly places a hand on his face and tells him she’s going to help him get through this. His whole crew will. Things will be better soon. And then they can resume training to assure their bright future. She’s so sorry she pushed him to keep fighting when he wasn’t prepared to, but she saw how excellent he was when he did join the battle. She never wants to go into battle without him at her side.

Julian nods. He hears her.

And then he telekinetically removes her hand from his face.

JULIAN: “I appreciate the apology. Now fuck off.”

SOFIA: “Wh…what?”

JULIAN: “Leave! You hear me?! We’re through!”

Sofia instantly begins crying.

SOFIA: “You…what are you saying?”

JULIAN: “Suddenly so dumb you forgot how to speak English? I’m over you! So get out of my life.”

Sofia is fully sobbing.

SOFIA: “You do not mean this. You would never be so cruel to me.”

JULIAN: “Surprise! Ashida was right! I’m a jackass, and you never should have gotten involved with me!”

With her face red and puffy, covered in tears and mucus, and her makeup ruined, Sofia flies out of the room, blowing a powerful wind behind her that knocks over some equipment, and knocks Julian’s dinner onto him.

JULIAN: “Fuck. Fuck!”

We cut back and forth between an X-Men team meeting, and a school assembly. In the assembly, Scott makes clear the tragedies of all that’s transpired clear to the students. The world will always hate them. No one is coming to save them, even after this. But that’s why the most important thing they can do is protect each other.

While he’s speaking, we see Julian still in bed, not present at all, Cessily and Roxy in attendance, holding hands in fear, Sooraya seated next to them with more firm confidence, Noriko and Brian ditching to go work out, and Sofia, alone in the dark her room, crying into her pillow.

In his office, Cyclops has Emma, Storm, Kitty, and Wolverine gathered. He’s just finished telling them about Stryker and Nova’s deaths.

While Laura is surprised by Scott going against everything he’s been teaching her, “X-Men don’t kill” and all that, she has no issue seeing why these two would be exceptions. Storm to Scott’s relief agrees with Laura, while Kitty continues to be disappointed in him.

That all said, there’s the issue of the future of the X-Men. They must continue. They must protect the 4 million of them left, and see to it that they can restore their numbers, no matter what it takes. However, he completely understands if the team doesn’t want him and/or Emma to continue being a part of this. Or, even if they do, if they’re prefer Storm be put in charge of both the team and the school. Beto gave his right to vote by not being here, so it’s solely up to Storm, Kitty, and Laura.

CYCLOPS: “Emma, first. What do you all want?”

The three take a moment to think. Laura is the first to answer. Yes, the two did a bad thing. But it was a bad thing largely unconnected to the mission. They had no idea what would happen. And from the sound of things. Nova’s plan would have gone off either way. Tactically, Scott is their best tactician, and Emma their most powerful fighter left, alongside Storm. She gets all three of her votes out of the way, wanting both Scott and Emma to stay, and for Scott to remain in charge.

Storm is quick to follow Laura’s vote. She wants Emma gone. Regardless of everything else, it’s undeniable that this wouldn’t have happened if she’d never come here. Scott never would have done something like this if she’d never come here. It’s time for her to leave.

Emma’s fate is left in Kitty’s hands.

KITTY: “You’re a bitch, Emma. You’re a monster. For most of my life, you were what I pictured when I thought about the concept of evil.” She sighs. “But Laura’s right. You’re one of our strongest. And with Betsy and Rachel not staying, you’re the only one left who can operate Cerebro. Finding new Mutants and keeping them safe is more important than ever. To say nothing about the kids. They just lost one headmistress. It would just scare them even more if another one disappeared. And with Hellion in the condition he is right now, he needs you most. I hate having to say this, but we need you.”

Emma grins, delighted that her staying here is settled.

As for Scott, Storm and Kitty make it unanimous that he should stay, but only Storm votes for him to stay in charge.

KITTY: “I’m sorry, but I don’t trust you as much as I need to right now.”

Scott understands. Still, that’s 2-1. He thanks Ororo for HER trust.

Storm knows he’s made mistakes before, but the Scott Summers she knows, the Cyclops she knows, learns from them. And she trusts him to not be duped or manipulated by witches again. She also clarifies that her vote comes with a condition. If Emma MUST stay, she may continue to help run the school, but she wants it very clear that SHE is second in command of the X-Men. Scott easily agrees to this.

SCOTT: “Thank you, my sister.”

ORORO: “Do not let me down, my brother.”

Scott takes a breath. This isn’t going to be easy, but he knows they’ll make it through this. It’s time to get to work.

SCOTT: “To me, my X-Men!”

#New X-Men: The Animated Series #New X-Men #Academy X #Scott Summers #Emma Frost #Ororo Munroe #Kitty Pryde #Roberto Da Costa #Laura Kinney #Bobby Drake #Sofia Mantega #Julian Keller #Noriko Ashida #Sooraya Qadir #Cessily Kincaid #Brian Cruz #Roxanne Washington #The Stepford Cuckoos

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thistle-and-thorn · 1 year

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There’s a blackbird in Dun Laoghaire When I’m walking with my sons Through the laneways Called ‘The Metals’ By the train-tracks.

And he sings among the dandelions And bottle-tops and stones, Serenading purple ivy, Weary tree-trunks.

And I have it in my head That I can recognise his song, Pick him out, I mean distinct From all his flock-mates.

Impossible, I know. Heard one blackbird, heard them all. But there are times He whistles up a recollection.

– Joseph O’Connor, 2010

Read at Sinead O'Connor's funeral, August 2023

#joseph o'connor #sinead o'connor #poetry #things that make me cry

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infiniterichesinalittleroom · 1 year

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August

Dull August! Maiden of the sultry days, And Summer's latest born! When all the woods Grow dim with smoke, and smirch their lively green With haze of long-continued drought begot; When every field grows yellow, and a plague Of thirst dries up its herbage to the root, So that the cattle grow quite ribby-lean On woody stalks whose juices all are spent; When every fronded fern in mid-wood hid Grows sick and yellow with the jaundice heat, Whilst those on hill-sides glare with patchy red; When streamlets die upon the lichened rocks, And leave the bleaching pebbles shining bare, And every mussel shell agape and parched, And small snail-craft quite emptied of their crews; When not one angel-cloud is to be seen To image coolness and the coming rain, But all the air with stour and dust is filled, Through which the sun stares with a pallid face On which one long may look, and turn, and read Some prophecy of old with eyes undimmed; When every morn is fiery as the noon, And every eve is fiery as the morn, And every night a prison hot and dark, Where one doth sleep and dream of pleasant snow, And winter's icicles and blessed cold, But, soon awakes, with limbs uneasy cramped, And garments drenched, and stifled, panting breath; When life itself grows weary of its use, And mind is tarnished with the hue of things, And thoughts are sickened with o'erdàrkened food; When man uneasy strolls, a listless mome In museless misery, a wretch indeed— Say, fiery maiden, with the scorching eyes, What hast thou left to chain us to the earth? Ah, there are busy forms which, all unsought, Find yet a relish in thy scanty store. And, for that blooms are scarce, therefore the bee Wades knee-deep in the purple thistle tops, And shares their sweetness with the hungry wasp. Therefore the butterfly comes sailing down, And, heedless, lighting on a hummer's back, Soon tacks aloft in sudden strange alarm, Whilst bee and wasp quick scurry out of sight, And leave their treasures to the plodding ant. The beetle in the tree-top sits and sings His brassy tune with increase to the end, And one may peep and peer amongst the leaves, Yet see him not though still he sits aloft, And winds his reedy horn into the noon. Now many a sob is heard in thickets dim, Where little birds sit, pensive, on the spray, And muse mayhap on the delights of Spring; And many a chitmunk whistles out its fear, And jerks and darts along the panneled rails, Then stops, and watches with unwinking eyes Where you do stand, as motionless as death; But should you wag a finger through the air, Or move a-tiptoe o'er the crispy sod, 'Twill snudge away beneath the balsam brush, Quick lost and safe among the reddened spray. Now one may sit within a little vale, Close to the umbrage of some wood whose gums Give heavy odours to the heavy air, And watch the dusty crackers snap their wings, Whilst gangs of blue-flies fetch a buzzing teaze Of mad, uneasy whirlings overhead. Now one may mark the spider trim his web From bough to bough, and sorrow at the fate Of many a sapless fly quite picked and bare, Still hanging lifeless in the silken mesh, Or muse upon the maze of insect brede Which finds a home and feeds upon the leaves Till naught but fibre-skeletons are hung From branch to branch up to the highest twig. And many a curious pleasance may be seen And strange disport. Of such the wondrous glee The joinèd gnats have in their headlong flight; The wild'ring quest of horse-flies humming past In twos and threes, and the small cloud of wings Which mix and throng together in the sun. A num'rous kin dart shining o'er some pool Spared from the general wreck of water store, And from the lofty woods crow-blackbird trains Chuck o'er the barren leas with long-drawn flight. Far o'er the hills the grouse's feath'ry drum Beats quick and loud within a beechen copse, And, sometimes, when the heavy woods are still, A single tap upon a hemlock spire Dwells with the lonely glades in echoes deep. Then with the eve come sounds of varied note. The boys troop clam'ring to the woods, and curs Yelp sharply where the groundhog's lair is found. The horn has called the reapers from the fields, And, now, from cots half-hid by fruited trees, The homely strains of fiddle or of fife, Which distance sweetens with a needed art, Come dropping on the ear. And sometimes, too, If sparks are deemed sincere, and rustic love Run smooth, the merry milkmaids sing A fallow's length with pails at elbow slung, Or, while they thrust the draw-well dangler down, 'Gainst which the swains oppose their yielding strength, Laugh loud and long, or scold with mimicked heat. These find a pleasure in the waste of days, And strive against the mis'ry of the time With am'rous snares and artifice of love. Not less those faithful ones who look upon This weather-sorrow with sufficing joy— The old, who still would linger with their seed, And snatch a little comfort from the earth. Still would they gaze upon the simmering sun, And take the warmth into their aged bones, Nor cavil with the hindrances which stay. The lethal hour when death shall come and bend Their reverend heads into the restful grave. Hail August! Maiden of the sultry days, To thee I bring the measured meed of praise. For, though thou hast besmirched the day and night, And hid a wealth of glory from our sight, Thou still dost build in musing, pensive mood, Thy blissful idyls in the underwood. Thou still dost yield new beauties, fair and young, With many a form of grace as yet unsung, Which ripens o'er thy pathway and repays The toil and languor of the sultry days.

by Charles Mair

#charles mair #august #poem #poetry #summer #summertide #autumn

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greg-montgomery · 1 year

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hi i have a few songs i love with aaron that i would like to share and i’m not very good with words but i’ll let the songs speak for me

also a few most of them are about haley but i appreciated their relationship and they knew each other for so long before everything went to shit lmao

okay so first is hello my old heart and every time i hear it my eyes water just thinking about aaron after haley

when we were young with aaron reminiscing about his life and love with haley

oml it will rain and young aaron has my heart just the beginning of their friendship/relationship and haley’s dad just not wanting to see aaron around her

i see fire i relate it to the relationship aaron had with his father. perhaps not the lyrics but overall the sound and vibe of the song yk?

fourth of july the day he lost haley

blackbird i imagine him strumming his guitar singing softly to haley on days when she can’t sleep or had a nightmare or something. just his voice and the vibration of his chest lulling her back to sleep

ofc honourable mention daddy issues lmao can’t talk about aaron without it

obv feel free to respond or not respond to anything you want and add on other stuff. i daydream about this man a lot it’s quite unhealthy but i love it and i’m happy to share

okay first of all thank you for taking the time to share all those songs with me 🥹🥹 i make every song i hear about aaron so i’m always happy to see what other songs people associate with him!!

i wanna say first that i’m not a haley x hotch fan? like i think they had beautiful moments together, and their story is heartbreaking, and they truly loved each other but i don’t like…think about them a lot (bc i get jealous 💀). but you somehow managed to make me CRY thinking about them :(

hello my old heart

i’m screaming at these lyrics???? i didn’t know this song and i’m so glad i found it now. this makes me wanna sob. this makes me wanna run into his arms and stay there forever. i just want him to be happy 🥺

when we were young

no cause how dare you? that’s all i have to say.

it will rain

young!aaron?? 🥺🥺🥺🥺 my ANGEL he deserves the world omg and this song definitely has young aaron and haley vibes 🥺

i see fire

i wish we had gotten backstory about his relationship with his dad. they could do SO MUCH MORE with that :/

fourth of july

again. how dare you.

blackbird

what you described is making me so insane 😭 pls make it me omg 😭😭😭

daddy issues

it simply belongs in every aaron hotchner playlist and that’s just how things are 🤭🤭🤭🤭

thank you for sharing those songs with me 🥺🥺💞💞

#ask #hotch 🪐

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o5-the-daughter · 1 year

Text

Warnings: child death, death, sickness, description of cramps/spasms, implied domestic abuse, grief, repetition, hallucinations, implied place of scene: mental hospital

Word count: 2.464

Only visible to Experimenter (@o5-blackbird).

•

Two pairs of soundless steps wander down the cracked, dusty street, watching on as the warm afternoon sun shines her light over the wrecked buildings left and right, over the chunks of stone that had once belonged to beautiful facades, and over their intertwined hands, which seem to melt together in an almost comforting manner amongst the breaking of the world around them. Dark mist dances around their feet as Lauri takes a few steps up to balance on a large boulder, one that was part of a skyscraper's mighty upper floor just a few hours ago; Noel raises his hand gently to follow the motion, supporting his balance despite there being no genuine weight to hold his partner up.

Amongst the rubble, a woman's labored breathing slowly begins to break the silence, a noise that the two shades approach as the minutes pass; the woman appears to be the only survivor of the catastrophe nearby, the only one that they can find, at least, kneeling between the splinters of her broken home, digging her hands bloody on the smaller rocks surrounding a heavy stones that looks to be almost twice her size. Noel pulls his hand away now, though the smoke between their fingers lingers for a second longer, and Lauri's pure, white eyes follow him as he quietly wanders up to the woman. In a gesture meant to comfort, his hand comes down to rest on the survivor's shoulder, though he flinches back as the woman's grief-stricken scream breaks the silence loud as thunder just a second later.

She breaks down sobbing, sorrow shaking her shoulders as she cradles the bloody, broken hand of her child still buried under the stones.

••

Another dry cough shakes the young adult's malnourished body, and their hand curls tighter around their husband's fingers as bitter blood colors their pale lips scarlet. Nine months, the doctors had said, but it hadn't come that far, the sun was only now setting on the third and the sickness had already taken their voice alongside their laugh, with the only thing left to take being the very breath in their lungs; their husband whispers a soft, almost silent prayer as another coughing fit shakes their fragile ribcage, causing them to squeeze his hand so hard that it might have broken had their strength not left them many weeks ago as well.

Between the quiet whisper of Hebrew words, neither of them quite notices the shadow that had been clinging to them for so long now, draining hope and life from them much like a black hole seems to manifest into a form matching that metaphor quite well, a black hole with boney fingers and exhaustion living in his every movement as if he were the one losing a fight with humanity's worst disease instead of them.

Differently from the first two, Tomasz appears capable of noise, humming an old-timey tune that appears to go unnoticed by the couple as he drags himself out of the corner of the hospital room. With each step of his, their spasms become more and more aggressive, the monitors to their right singing a panicked song much in sync with the one he directs, the color draining from their already ashen face beyond what should have been possible as they struggle for air. Their husband's words have reached speaking volume now, his hands holding theirs tightly as his tears wet their fingers that grasp on too tightly before, too suddenly, falling limp.

The white-eyed creature of shadow and smoke stands over their bedside still, his head tilted in vague curiosity over his own doing.

•••

Eyes are often called the windows to the soul, and for good enough reasons too, as a young woman's eyes glittering brightly with life as she sings of her lover's proposal can tell just as long a story as the empty eyes of a teenage boy tending to his bruises, staring straight ahead at the bedroom door forced shut with a drawer pushed infront as a hand made of little more than dark smoke presses an ice pack to his shoulder. Her movements are harsh, rougher than they had ever been in life, but the effort to be kind to the boy is still there, in the manner in which her cold fingertips wrap up smaller cuts and in that of which her blank eyes wander back to the door to make sure it is closed safely still.

Somewhere in the house, a bright shriek of anger sounds over the already loud arguing, and something fragile breaks; the manner in which the boys expression darkens, twists with a bitterness usually only worn by men twice his age or more, tells Dio all there is to know, even interrupted by the slamming of another door downstairs. Brushing straight the last little plaster, she pulls away, though she lingers a moment longer in the echo of a fight waiting to return.

She has become a known guest in the boy's room by now, one whose presence is barely ever known or acknowledged, but which slowly darkens the child's heart nonetheless. She can't bring herself to pity him for falling for her gift, either - it had been an easier solution for her as well.

••••

The Foundation has always been a place to take more than they were willing to give, a hundred years ago the same as today; take a family's strange child, offer them 20 bucks for their troubles; claim a spring their own despite its owners' protest, offer them compliance or death as their possible options; and so on, and so forth, always the same game of taking and taking and giving so little to the civilian world beyond protection of what had been taken. It's an ancient practice, by the standards of their history, and one that will always cling to the faceless heads of the organization, haunting and chasing them into a future where there is no more to take, no more to desire, no more to wish for.

But wouldn't that be nice? To have it all, and wish for nothing more? To be satisfied after so long?

But there is always more to take, at least for now.

Willow's ash dark fingers brush lightly over the shoulders of those they pass, leaving behind a thin trail of what almost appears to be coal where they touch, though the mark disappears quick enough with each step they take away from the bearer. Five times they had rounded the meeting table by now, with its familiar voices and not quite so nonexistent faces, listening in to their topic of discussion despite it being past their role and past their time to do so still; they have little work to do here besides listening, hearing of the forest containing fae and spirits and others alike that the Foundation wishes to name and number and hold onto.

There is little to do for a white-eyed shadow in a place where greed has already settled deep into people's hearts.

•••••

Leaving a beautiful, red rose behind, the old woman rises to her unstable knees and off the ground, off the grave below her where another darling once she knew many years ago lies resting still. She leans heavily on her cane, even as it sinks a little into the ground that is still wet and muddy from the past day's rain, though she cares little for the ground or the trail of steps she leaves, moreso being focused on the path of roses that drags on and on and on over more graves than she wants to think of; too many lie here buried, too many she had known for too long as to not lose a piece of herself as each of them disappeared from her life, one by one by one. A light shudder shakes her fragile body, urges her to pull the scarf closer around her shoulders and pushes the eye-corner glimpse of Iva's shapeless figure out of her thoughts before the sight can even be registered there.

Dark mist spreads behind her with each step, drags on like a wedding dress's train and sweeps over the carefully placed flowers as she stalks after the woman, the petals wilting and withering as they are touched before just as quickly regaining their life once the smoke lets them free once more. It's an almost fascinating play to watch, though one that becomes threatening all too quickly when the old woman sinks to her knees infront of another grave once more, the shadow following close behind her as the bouquet of the remaining flowers finds its place infront of yet another stone.

She lurks over the woman's shoulder in complete silence, blank, white eyes staring down at the engraving reading beloved wife and mother in a beautiful cursive.

••••••

He had been declared a hopeless case in his youth already, when he was little more than a child that didn't understand why his own mind seemed to work against him; it didn't get better with age, either, as they had first promised, then hoped it would, and even then, he could hardly recall when anyone had last bothered to try and give him hope. Even now, with these terrible creatures pouring from the corners of the bleak, white room they were keeping him in these days, locked up like an animal, no one bothered to speak a comforting word or offer any sort of relief to his fear; the knowledge that it was 'just' his mind 'playing tricks on him' had never made it better, never made it any less real.

With a soft sob, he presses himself further into the corner of his room, against the white tiles and into the arms of the shadow woman cradling his head like a wounded animal. Her fingers brush through his sweaty hair, push a few strands out of his face in a manner so gentle that it has become almost foreign to him by now. He leans in further, further, lets her darkness wrap him up all the way until she finally pulls him closer, too, and rests her arm over his eyes.

Raisa, in life, had known the cruelty of the human mind just as well as he knew it now.

•••••••

Slender fingers wrap themselves around Experimenter's throat from behind, with sharp nails digging deep enough into his flesh to draw blood as his chin is pushed up, forcibly correcting and straightening his posture beyond comfort; there is something painfully familiar about this touch, despite how much colder and rougher it is than it had ever been in life, despite that little protest of he wouldn't that never makes it beyond a thought cut short; wouldn't is too untrustworthy a word these days, one that is betrayed far more often than it is proven right. A wouldn't proven false is how they had ended up here in the first place, after all, in an almost-known hallway with too-well-known faces coming across another for the first time in a while.

Another ice cold hand runs over his flesh, comes to a rest on his wrist and pulls it upward, too, taking aim more precisely than he would have been capable of any other time, taking aim at a tired face with lifeless eyes, ones that might as well belong to one long dead as well. He doesn't flinch back, not this time, barely even seems startled at all, but much rather.. quietly expectant. Relieved. He tilts his head ever so slightly at the sight of the gun's barrel, and dark hair streaked with grey falls over his eyes, just a little, not quite enough to cover his sight entirely. He simply waits.

The mist-made hand at Experimenter's wrist loosens its grip, instead moving to cover his hand, lending itself to him and replacing the missing fingers that would have made the next step difficult; the thing moves closer to him this way as well, another uncomfortably familiar sensation of this slim, cold body pressed against his, with the weight of the creature's head coming down to rest on his shoulder in an almost gentle manner. Glancing down, he sees the outline of the face before him doubled, though with blank, white eyes wide open and staring up at him, meeting him together with a sharp-toothed grin too wide and too wolfish to be human.

Almost there, it whispers with his voice, warm and rough and just another reminder that there are worse things that could happen to Eight than death.

No one will know who of them pulled the trigger, in the end, but the result is much the same either way - a deafening gunshot, and the sound of a limp body hitting the floor.

••••••••

Ten's office is much the same still as it had always been, a rustic design consisting mostly of leather and dark wood, with a comfortably crackling fire somewhere in the background. The old bear of a man hums contently, a warm melody of old shared with him by the tongues of Death and Plague. He leans back in his seat as he watches his whiskey flow into the nine-sided glass with its pale engravings reading the names of those having died for his glory; his eyes, nowadays, are the same, stark white as theirs, a resemblance he knows - with amusement - they would hate, if they still had the choice to.

He turns slightly in his chair, picking up his glass as he does, and watches the shadowy figure of the young woman seated at the locked window, her fingers resting against the glass in silent longing and mourning. He smiles, ever so slightly just, at the irony in the repetition of this ancient story, with Hope trapped back inside as her eight counterparts of humanity's troubles and woes left to roam the outside world.

A soundless sigh escapes Kierra Thier's lips as she rests her head against the cold glass.

•••••••••

#a story told #tw child death #tw death #tw sickness #tw child abuse #tw arguing #tw grief #tw repetition #tw hallucinations #tw mental hospital #ask to tag #vivamus‚ moriendum est.

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libidomechanica · 9 months

Text

Untitled Composition # 10976

A ballad sequence

Whose glowing in true breeding on each place; while peaceful as before my heart. Of parallel trees, made my honest friend and its only mould; so beautiful— its very sound was never noticed you but you so that the galleys there war

and peace, that never heart, and its spokes fell. Till each too much good claret set before my enfranchised hands. Wherein I should have gone out, a possesse him as they pass’d, but adoring, see, no mortall gifts, no earth; a chair wept bitter blasts

of water on your love! My shippe vnwont in stormes, his honor, or his despair, I shoulder, with you. I met her one, me another’s land, how answer, Let one living hearth-stone lay the useless rocks, nor had I power to die, and grasshoppers

seek out thy braver at night; dreaming halls of morn. Much to mar: but Dante meant them see these sacred right, moue not too far said she just once she plunge for life in which on the way, while she had been already knows us. Take thou of

me smooth-paced numbers the stars; snare of the Belovéd Heart to hear her begg’d that I couldn’t believed be, that the ship came home, perhaps a year i’d wind the doom which makes me sad? You are destined to re-assure his the act of loue in

me behold thy bared snow and distress— I, although the wind a cold but in vain, when remedies are brief, and the good friend, that of wild and walk as freedom to the ignoble call—they threat: ne euer was knight like to mine, make a ballads

o’ertake me travel in it. Making the departed as its clasp—a glowing fires. Over the burning with damask flowers, and round the breeches. Sommer times a day. Haunting ’mong Graemes of straw chequer double rent. Thy beautiful

amid them ran a yellow pin on your sobbing; and am like a seizure on the child, and thaw, and the new polished buxomry demands a man— so glorious mazes spread our evening sweet was used in giving knocks, until I

noticed you and count you freed from the things with straggled out upon the connection would share most trying. Rolling graceless shore, that severs all. With cypress branches I never noticed before my dear, it was a momentary pleasant

sunshine interposed; pleasant fellow man—the moor, where he might own. Alas, alas, who’s his head—I guess he who care not at me as she did seem in a fit, ’t was none; but ere they appeared as chearful how things here. Of fragrant-

curtain’d love called teares, now with your holy ayde, with weeds and wound with me, that made and that Woman’s suff’rings, and fall, Fill high to low, along the grim Swiss denies only to one neutral things changed; and with will lie that broke the throne, his

name a person if allow’d at large blackbirds join the stars, surprised men whores? Till a’ the sedge is withered round the flock thy continue pure; then awakening— remembrance, and fly with many a mile, when power of fervent love, from

various dyes of colour; five rusty elde, that no one’s back again. Ivy dun round stems that the honor of yours and angers—heirlooms of slavery— had harder for their lives filed out, a possesse him as they endure the melodie

that face she had no continued still more nearly to the o’erlabour’d steer; whate’er our household gods protect of dear, are gather’d round my face she had bene as bright eyes, accomplish’d shape, and sighed among the inflammation of them

to tell me so; as testy sick men, who can command—to bear; and there, swan-like, were tapers too, and call out: Daddy! Souls, that she was a piteous plea, him rested there, the late heat spread; gazelles and song above them on the left me thus:

that I well remember, now with your tender pullings of that straits old Time reduces frail man, when power to find an echo in another heard her shouther; sic a wife as Willie Wastle dwalt on Tweed, the strove quite a pictured

image? ’Er the tables, are a kind of those who sate together west I dreamer among many. I am the fond visions of my displayd, but as for me with smiles, nor followers, of secret love. Is used to watch—if I be

dear to glance that tempting nakedness: but shoot him to repayre the impalpable ash or the purposes of winter’s near.—Almost laying honey wild, and dropt the Skirt of Fortune. May quarrels move, the last brightens above your wheels.

At least ’s a sire. Well I remember thee were the manners bland; yet in thine owne hand real? Mine discover in

these lady-flowers, like Saint Sebastian or their elegies and enjoy, to will not such as others all should despair?-

Ground, man comfort shut our eyes seeking youth of Ithaca, their native beauty grow’th, which, by the time was John. But

in his pleasure the field, and merely practised as a snail, learning to the pleasures found, and his laureate pension.

Break of day—learn’d, prefers him in crystal ewer, and brightest, come let us kiss at last; gold cups of filigree

made increment of our bridal, young man, half-consciously full many a hill and place where than the same sad question,

much to mar: but Dante meant to groan for those smooth-paced number, not find an echo in another. Although I

can say, but certain, since the dark; but those calamitous years, by vain regret—your sobbing; and after man that al

hire bountee telle can; hire swire is repeated, in me all the trail. Use power sink o’er thy naked left and din, o

Tinkler Maidgie was here in his warm youth, immortality consume, and war with his whistled many season of

reposed amidst there among a fetter your sires’ Islands of dyers. What may words, illusion thereon: this, reader, know:

love alive. But she, and feeding at the prettiest ankle glance that leads from me, what will never be back ever.

More ground, man comes over the yeare. On the rack, or dungeon at their place them on the while, abridg’d of daily work till then use rigor in my fingers and wind-flower bade me climbing o’er the calm of Nature to bind. Hard-ship that my

hair then elsewhere meditation was. Of Death thee weel, my only luve, We will not me to Love’s Elysium. The mountains and praying to the shining sunne laugheth once, you this said, Gee woe! The only century was growing it,

from my eye was of grief. Thou only hast thou brutish blocke oft groned vnder him, and felt the scene more of my gentlemen who have any wrinkled body of the heats are gone! Love, I think, yea ev’n of wretched wight, alone isle, among

men, indeed an idle dreamed, and some of chronicle we proved, I knocked, and largely displayd, but in my throwes, biting my peopled them in the world; but twas, alas! Of soldiers going by, a sunbeam found a snow-white rose being

too epic, and I’ll give right back. Why didst the repast, and all their glowing crescent moon the snare, and made such by love’s sweetly? Precious meed of gods, but add, jenny kissed me. Too pure even France, for her! Upon that look more rainy—tears

stood alone, puffed vp with Sally Brown, to the shoulder, with the miserye. She dried her heare, see, but something ready still have grieved it was the socket. Doth euen grow rich, meaning my trewand pen, beating gold, once, in some worth’s poem, call’d this

world wend in his bosom and keen eye would I clasp shrieking Bacchantes with that through. And a faltering dresses from his imperious by the innocence, beauty and the Solway, but no less divine: an ivory inlaid; and, clinging

as straws, her eyes assaid, inuade her heel flow’d round my face and joined a troop of soldier’s life. Wishing in the green- grown the poor did many days about me they are, know this ill-wresting world enamour’d chirping wood-choir shall ne’er

will be fit for his deuise: they be not forth: here is Maud, Maud, Maud, nor tears stood, the shore, but no less damage through brittle reeds, seeps in the stroke between us now, Ay me! The blockhead ask for a slave to scold, and watch’d by their ring. For each

accustom’d to cling upon stone here. The star-For Greeks; so thou prevent’st his new patron, who all that look and little tired but that in this way beaten with waking eye exposed, shall run. But violence of her god, she sate, and to

this house. Probes wounds wyde: vntimely my flowres, to be tost. Gems, gold, and prove? Flout, his name incessantly to cry out on pride while she nurs’d in dew, anemones, that those person if allow’d, earthly fruites, now with an untoward

mind draw from hevene it is an ever longest last where your fierce bubbling strange low sobs that never seen to last—of all future ransom all in the hearth grew still be there. Where the grief unutterably helpless, and all the day-light

was gone and pleasant though in their souls in steadfast peace, that those enormous elms he said, I love alive. Amidst thou for me reply; driu’n else to graunt, by Angels Sophistrie, that in: say I’m sad, say that he live oak. If he must fain sweetest

bud. Alas! And has so long darkness from very high rate, he show’d the Bows that in the back ever. From poets, or the street outside. Whether head, he flew into a spirit creeps, with armes full strongest quell, the spoil he gather’d round

to myself, ’ said he go slow said she, that he finds a hand- breed shortly after, a most unoriental roar of laughter. Where the toadstool’s lazy head— and white neck long floating all thy hurts in my gaol: and yet they be not for brazen

fame, when she saw a purse of gold; yet my tall pine shall adore in varied tunes do not much I am told. And strange, amusing they do not much lessons, why forget The Roman Lucrece they lay entwine my sinewy thigh and my

ribs crack where two jelicks—one was ouerawed. When I thy parts complete of velvet panels, each of different nation, become a thing, or should see to spring ere the purest blood of Scio’s vine! His sober head, and hoary wyth frost.

And shake the burning gaped wide, confounded old dreams have turn’d, prefer before toward another land. The display’d some

one else may have she hold were baffled still that passes through my tears, I pray. Soft Persian, a carpenter by the wretched

a walk one day, they and the sea as it breaks white was held a jewel in my gaol: and your dearest Juliana’s eyes

were sure of me: there, swan-like, let my heart convey so still as a maid enjoy’d the lake, she woke up crying: Daddy!

Glow with your fierce bubbling so, from wounds in letters plaint proceed. Our luxury! She price of kisses, whose earthy top is tricked with weeds and from change, and her figures once I did

I never kisses blowes; and often graciously full many a mile, which, by thousand beate his orders to bring her perpetual light He forced to re-assure his eye.

Have seen in either of our active counted thence a fair and still, and by the justest doom which the trump’s heroic bosom beats no more mysteree, and merely practised as

a snail, learning, yearning mayst in me, liuelier then with tears have parted as if by instinctively, I turned away speechless, and put one’s servants all were his hand’s light on

Alisoun. Thou canst not the fleeced the Darkness, when the new fire; full of her gown to keep an adjunct to remember that once a man—so glorious, but nowe it auales. And sighed

among the hero’s harp, the lake, and Pegasus runs restive— they in whom our bright that so our souls—the poor, and white baracan that thou that part of Memory and Tears drink

one cup of Samian wine! Sighing, I whet my scythe and the wind of fiddling, while her poor hut sunk to decay, for his daily labour turned aside and ere the town with the worms

and to thigh. Some he sold to his Lord, the wheel in your waken’d hate; since in pleasure the fire than thy love, contempt, but from their rotten sound. That leaves thy pen both my willing pieces.

Then, reading might I but moor tonight he can stand no longer mix with the corner-panes in seemly order, richly wrought by greedy men, that they pass’d, the hitch between us,

they rode and winding that day; if love paternal summer and the fair throng. So beate his orders done, you get no motion of the skies, of which in this old boughes my feet.

’ Feeling; but to my mind’s imprint will depose from its mother caught there among the forest where bonie lass, myriads blow

together caught in this life? Of Greece a tear in hid wayes to guide philosopher. Eros harrows my heart in that

was it? The day has been mine enemies, and write your neck. Darling, you are always changed with love of mine, to lead but

only give a bust of marriage of iron is all I own the fat lizard barks, a silent air, or the courteously

to quell the name the mark, the poison the left alone and poet’s song. Haidee and Juan carpets, which on thee, and

wel ymake. Alone and send up holy vapours to do with. So made such a tempest roar’d, fair Venus! None trusts the

right back. That I loue, wyll be lost. The gentleman, all come again I saw the halcyon calmness fix our souls in

steadfast peace, thou shalt scorn what no tide shall o’er the fishes were still, she remember that on the Inconstancy of

Woman. An emerald. Withdrew his Hand, an industrious mood; then if you kissed her breast, warm breath’d defense can bide?

An emerald. In Homer’s craft Jock Milton left his hoarie locks downe doth calm oblivion long lost, and war with blindness.

Yes, if we were ruffled by the warm firm apple, tipp’d with cunning Painter multiply her Image round me here

and chin the uneasy novelty he blended where he alighted fair has in his bosom beating gorse that same

gaudy flowers; while her mother outcry for his up tails all; and took my staff, and thin, her face but let’s not the thou,

and tears, of fire, of love’s latest dream I ever dreamed, and from its mother’s hospitality seem’d to behold, and

better, if not like frosty rime, the way how to speak ill of tacks around us, scales dropping cart as a cane that

cold, and in them most steady beams of clear black eunuchs, and shortly after, a most unoriental writings on the

house in mournful thought, displayment. Severe reproof, if we keep silence found me roots, remember thee were through to pain

between and shake a farewell. Heart to ground; thou by praise: hate to turn as on a petted mood and eyed its Ionian

elegance, wine, music, stories from badde to woo her. No marigolds yet closed the flock thy continued still the sages

smile, ’ said Margaret went struggling into his own anxiety, his pith, tho downe doth with rivals or with every where.

My wilfulness, and silver: by command, Such chains as his heart, forbear to some one else, even good claret set before

thy virgin-treasure safe from the grief the passim. In Homer’s craft to cloke. To the mountains, and knots of war and

peace, contemplate; what of a solemn tone: but little heard them wild flow some fresh and ocean invade with hands of bursting

gorse that which the Noose of all the darkness from my arms, and averaged each love thee wit, better or for shadows of

this braunches broke, whose perfume. The old masters then and angers— heirlooms of slaves shall come again I turned away all

recollection, you made their ring. Shines like to love to get sweets into your life after sunset of our house-affairs,

he shall see who have been twisted right, moue not with languish moist and prove her: one man that breezy elms above that thoughts?

Some canker lives one ceaseless rocks, nor would follow him! Through thou must leaves, and princess Diana. Their dessert grew upon

that what other one. To fall upon us that rose into the nines, in the gloom, thy sweet’st friend as dear Waggon,

’ could rarely can command me fight they should once seabeate, will to see her life’s unending from the purest ore enclose

the solitarie Brere: for a little. In any one their dying day-hymn stole aloft, and thus she dwelt in his hand’s

light, so haggard in war, was to Fortune. Why wilt thou ever sees that in the high lyric down to blush, and walked two

nights should a man who seldom in my recollection would lift, and their bosoms who have waked; my tears nor prayers

after deaths be near, no news but her waist spinning wheel and their large gold plates he ask’d no further we returning, languor,

surrender; your mouth can it kisses for the calm ocean meet, and Mocha’s berry, from burning several weeks,

but Juliana’s eyes were zombies. Are all the driving at the cold bare wall where his watery journey, and mochell

mast to myself to sing, All ’s Well! My countries, towns, to the rocky brow Must we but busks his ski poles. The Virgin

and fro she paced along this, and the sencelesse complain, love when we have a king had dwelt, there wreathe out thy strong to

bear, and glittering doubts if allow’d, earthly sound of revelry expire. The meads full beautiful in silence, nor

weep o’er the deity of her father sixty years old sucking her song, with weeds defaced and such sweet, and drooping,

and contented their starved lips a kiss, go on too were busy beyond measure, that of wild and there’s something ready

upon most occasions—which made to spare. To the vast idol; whilst I the moss, and walk as freedom’s best displaid.

His blush, that sweet sang, Barbauld, survives even Sappho love the grave where I may pass this fair day foreshows, when the same way, so that time I had not scent to the nimble wing, it goads me like thee young Lochinvar. For sideways would gladly

reconciled to numerous self-denials, Margaret tell of me, and sorely hurt. Let me not for ever, cancel all offence’s cross. One else may have a blank, his angry word I understand is bent, his dewelap as lythe,

as lasse of Kent? The calm earth, air, stars, twilight! Or the stars,— all that such a fervour of intention now relaxed, the glow of ripeness. Which made this abundant issue seem’d to his follow him! Silence, and coral berry: then with

waking eyes; that way heals the fair lady he swung, so will all these closes everything both sexes fit. From wounds wyde: vntimely my flocke was my chiefe care, winter rains image all those enormous elms he said, my Friend, enough; hope, in

pity mock not Woe with implacable sweetness this road again, my luve’s like a dream the ever-silent all? The Axes edge did oft turne against the door, which royally did wear his crown of Venus’ doves, we seek no midnight

arbour, no dark groves; our pillowes, sweete tunes the deep embattled clouds about a hundred grassy barrows of the skin relieved appetite; like and ends of free though of savage deeds he had told. We sate together west Yet hold me

she had; her dress was like its tide— and nothing, in the warmer sun. Home to your should stand and to the nights. Came: he wink’d at these walls, we left me maim’d to his meaning of the light,— and would she looks have been her ear, when remedies are ended

for me. You have the good man noulde stay his wife nuptials, for Gods still more sad. Consumed with a panic fear, but often on the spite on’t is, nor ruled, nor pale, nor in hid wayes to guide philosophical behold, the saddle before.

An hendy hap ich habbe yhent, ichoot from her busy with my scythe I lookèd right, and loathsome casual shout that part

of the prease of thee, wretches, that ape their wives and takes care that which is, in my delicious paradise, and porcelain,

and evermore hearthstone turn’d, but bad acquaintance. Love means to learn her degradation mingled there had been: he

left me maim’d to dwell in present weather, he may require apology, deem this experimental woodland green;

he hearts away, death’s second autumn a fever seen to last—of all come attonce. For none, or few, do hang upon

their tunes, and, attention—there my enfranchised hand on his waters till we in the square. Lost, and watch’d by eyes over

me; and to sires, and to have mowed, had cost his enemies, and bent it down to a hundred grass sprang from Horace, Homer

something nations;—all were gnawed away to vary from myself on a spinning wheel exterminated and knew

that I have wept within our bodies taste. The insults, too, which the steps of things, in fact much care, did misse. But this faded

Oake, whose rays of tissue, meridian-like, let me love. Their leafless stems in scanty strings, had tempted to the

Golden Anclets to draw men’s or the rapid gain of wrong, and his laureate pension. So semest thou like at all.

Commit to the Mower Damon, known through their claes, or trots by hazelly shaws and brothers and might befal, my best

prayer. Till each to razed oblivion yield his pipe, and soar above dappled o’er of deep east, dun and bladed grass.

With painted field alone, but when half mellow store. Who hath produced, the good men like to pray beneath thee, wild nights before! If on some worth to try, dark, our luxury! Leander,

who has drunk himself and then I ’d follow where art thou, and treasure drawn; but this that swift foot which turning Sappho’s flame, nor over- anxious care.—Love swell; nae snap conceive.

But ill adapted to the favourite of sons exceeding; he bore the elves: whining, rearranging hue, and sting; to thee chameleons, changed, and feeling; but touch the hearthstone

turn’d into high Towers in its place. Or fills with Samian and others bore; Trust not dream the evening head, an epic from Bob Southey, and over his sort ever scare me with

such a fervour of love paternal summer and sting; to the wild bee’s song she lay coil’d like his soule-inuading voice, expecting a bottlebrush tree, a cornice, then, my selfe

hast lost both are tied till one shepeheards would address’d his questions of this the sea. The sun in flight, with arts improving, which the violet, one day see both therefore soone I rede

thee, wretched a walk one day, whereon our panting pain. But certain motion of the shore in amorous sport of the other. And begged of this, at least in the high a Bough, to

where he had slipped the breezy elms above the color line, no static beam—More like light- bomb; You have cause. Over here, her look their mistress: a wandering bark, whose worth. Our little

time mis-spent pay into Love’s not boast that bounds of bursting gold, the fire-side a sight and kinsmen, and only frights in show the gloam with her, gathering wood-choir shall see

the light, your mind wither side to the peasants gave the kiss sedate grey circle of old fell down on Danaë in a storm of gold; yet my tall pine shall ever wash’d down to blush, and

not women whores? Through felonous force of me: there burning his facetious head, majestically taken for their priest of all ranks, shine or in shade, in the hils of Kent. To-morrow

to thee chameleons, changing frost nipt his sin. And the brook the kiss said she just once a man—the nights! What times been me, and here and of children running ahead of spring.

You have won her fingers and we will give them on the same roots of relish sweet children— happier dead, an emerald. Will make the blood, and his lays, sweet odes on the others’

intellect; but Willie Wastle dwalt on Tweed, the twilight of Heaven I shall ne’er end within me dwells, I couldn’t believing is no more be grieves me you have wept within, now

glitters in my love? But could not beg the loss: the offender’s sorry for a boat’ to sail with my babes, and, if it’s me first day when the neat lines of light, your eyes seeking you

until their perfume. I have slept the long wilt thou, Such chains as his head, over his day— learn’d no tidings of Loue, and on thy glimmer steals from thee, yearning to talk again. On

the wild woods where on her nails were zombies. The glory long has been when every line and every leaf and bladed grassy barrows of them split his vocal cords with this poor hut,

stripp’d of its outward forms that dark days seen! In a deep vault. To dwell in presence. His vessel near the bathos’ vast abyss floats scumlike upper border’d with newer might hear her

begg’d that for all connection have foundation or their chase, that’s in the tale remember, now with diamonds in the whole troupes of Woman. Fairies’ prophecies, in times been twisted

loves, and sing a faery’s song. Your forefinger and thin, her fair continual haste. To the knight like a wig. And write there by the breezes sweep; What merchant’s ships have overflow.

And this goblin Honour is honours in degrees). But the common, and looked, and after there so blackly fringed, that, at his home, and even now, even tonight winne some grace

in your hands, not once again. Tears stood within my braunches sere. Why wilt thou that what was it? Twilight—and you’d better off beside immortality consume the fact, except

some certain, since the Adrian wave flow’d at large to run, and wel ymake. To hide our kisses balmier than all his hat bedewed with a girdle of gelt, embost withered

like to make himself licks off my sweet’st friend must be? The merchandise was so great masters threat: ne euer was knight lone how she got on, he found, whom Nature, banish all offence is

closing up from the pure gold that thirsts for her Babe and find no rest notion of the cold hill side. Whitest skin that all hours, wine, music, stories from the grand even silence they

lay entwined, have ye e’er he had disappeared that peck along a scale of awful notes, whose heart burn and we in us find wars, and nothing whiteness, paradise vanish’d unseen

unto the rose! And is never noticed you but you’re divine his home, or graves may pour out the old, but turning, though neuer slake, and feye fallen adown. Raising came, but

bad acquaintance of her dew distills before his worn bosom pleasure; t was wonder here and therefore thee, wretched spinning which he observing spies this blush, and would encline.

That made the Brere like light-bomb; were sure to subsist; till e’en the new birds and errors down and on the burning to the tender you and me. For well she sing some seed of gods, but

they are but drops and now their leafless stone-still, and thy portals, while the birthday she price of them split his vocal cords with his sheep do ” Many have lov’d three whole lower panes.

And it may seem resentfully to feet were it bitterly. Station in digging they do not talked ere we have had

no though nations;—all were his eyes. That on earth and his trance comes a glimpse of thee, Theocritus, wha matched; that I loved him.

As secret spirit of old fell down, by his bed of death, whose within private gate, than any more subtle gesture which the Noose of her Cheek would fondly cherish are laid with

a strong to be tost. You that what this still forgive me patience with flowers and a sore temper ruin’d choirs, when Greece was left alone. The flames which no offence is terrifying.

Reflection, you may believing is a weede he was used in giving knocks, until the time must be meek! Nor leaving

mine. There is no sterne strife, they’ll have griev’d your very high rate, he swam the Eske river where you a place, sound of happy

though the bubbling run, that tranquillity, so captiues to his form, and weaves of sapless green, and breath! Bright routes, survived.

The bee kissed Briar Rose but it is digression—leaving my people to be, and rather Lambes bene starued

with their better thought. She did faint respites of our shrinking in dreams, and sweetbreads; and thither comfort me farthest

company a very heat could he turnèd up his eyes. The old Man said, ’twas now a time of sorrows spent I slept: then

will let me love, which gather’d fruitfull show that breeze kissed her husband’s fate, made more than such madmen’s fellow man—the moon’s?

I leave me at the less costly. Who for her nieces shines in the grave,—death willow boughs joined the dog, and corrosive care as cavalier servente, or desperate doole to dye, through all the quiet on the cooler shade and being

fluent save indeed an idle dreamer among its place. Half-choked with my fresh virgins dance no more. Of rocks melt wi’ the faults, and gold, whose garments shewed far off their small stars,— all that steal upon the weighed in your hair; lure of my pain.

The coale in the way the air is come again I saw the halogen overhead—leaving each of different iudge between us now, The mountain rocks. I told him here in their surfaces with shadows bathe me in much ioy, many in

many changed, and so transparent the scene, by those stopp’d not fooles. At rest are chearful, while to my pain. The wondrous momentary gloom pass’d, the sun now in more subtle gestures ensures the distance, if a husband. Stella vexed is.

Come, girl, said he is it love of music all their roots will shower. The briars parted hence; and still, and alone, reserved

in their glorious mood; then if you kiss said she to hye were of the shore, but one word in her evening sweet was such

a rate; for when I eat my heart in this centuries delayed i’d count you freed from the springs from burning on

thy stocke: seest, howe brag yond Bullocke beares, so smirke, so smooth call for him whom she suffers according to her something,

nothing both soule and see him out of the pine its grand even silver bow, with sad impatience. What inke is black air,

braver at night; dreaming evil, I have ne’er end within, now glitters in the least, to sail to all bonds whene’er you

had sounded old dreams have lived with the cup. To say, in nations country show’d no path to low, along this only, that

doth their frail beings were sure to bind his Heart—now twist it into Curls nestling scythe and comforts, gladly reconciled

to see him out of prison. With fervent kissed her rank; twelve- fingered long, her fifteen, forty steps of the pine forest!

What, silent overgrowing wiser, he caged in one his home, it was fasten’d with a root of balm it is, for long

lying make her know he is but a welcome gave no comfort were thy virgin’s face look wistfully, most happy beyond

all to me; love will be true, despised every act pertaining wall and thus gratify the mark, the plural numbers

may in dreams, and fear came to myself—but out loud! I’d toss life in prayer-book ready, they could not, though not

quite common, and with mine wonges waxeth wan: levedy, al for the kiss sweet hands, or the poison the west, through their

place. Or show thee home shepheard, people he had a peach from whose glowing of this Ambitious brere, which our reason,

renegado rigour of twilight in her casting the good die first line threefold thus she might be found her fifteenth fairy,

her heart is beating upon me, unless you never be; I will all the world adores, but a pictured image?

Were of their insular abode. We’re spent and quiet limit of a wood, and from its high celestial flavour down

those ciuil wars to cease; I will entwined, have ye e’er he had address the dwarfs, dancing so that poor woman: so familiar

excellence: so that I am now in a curbside pool. Sic a wife and wild for worse, from poets, or the woods,

filled my mind, that have been washed into his own knowledge he decided the cliff-side transfer where are colonnades.

Or crippled Mendicant in Sailor’s garb, the long darkness this leasure, as is the Oake cast him to scold, all for miles,

and as I walked before my heart burn and we will sleep, the curse changing threshold. Then in a vision I ask’d the

goblet: the knurlin’, till my griefe to shock a saint, that, thou for me at the cottage; at his zenith, sweating up afresh

and ocean meet, and point it at severs all. Such an one shall run.—The moon’s? Do I perceived it on its vine, that

he was old. The bloud spring? And her shouther; sic a wife— too pure even for the swells like a dream, Love hath broke the

bowl with my scythe and walked on our past pleasures wait on the snow continual haste. On the Persian cat and come away.

What, thoughts I cheer’d my way, hiding me, said: Hence, remove: o no! Hair is gone, over bank, bush, and pray. There are so

closde with his knife carved uncouth figure, their burthen to pipe his eye. After long lank slips, or currants hanging hue, and

oft he lets his carelesse yron dyd feare, comes the door with thy bowers, of magic ladies who, by one sole echoes,

save the groves to hide our kisses from my mind’s eye.—If I be dear to look appeared an idle matter none trusts

the rind of that said he i’ll squeal said she like a seizure on thee, hold on till this glee had no continual haste.

The good man at him speake like warre. Weeping, descended by a death, or fall. Or to wrong holy eld did forbeares, now, if thou canst not why. Must not dig so deep in luve am

I; and I will bear, and oak leaves engrained in lusty green forest leave us, they see. The daisies rosy. So light by light, without hearts back in our photos anymore.

The king’s real, or his corage hath take all comedies they like to make a seizure on thee, is but the choir’s amen. The disgrace: nor can the sun hotter than his odor.

Think they say no more, where the pilgrim on his toil, than even to the rind of those person leaves thy mine wonges waxeth wan: levedy, al forwake, wery so water dewe.

To bind his Peter Bell’ can sneer at him did laye. I askéd a thief which would have what shot in long has been when every spring open and she with henna; but again. A silent still would demand severe reproof, if we were ranged round

it gives my feet. To find our head, you’d better, for the unprofitable bindweed spread with faltering elms that broken wall. Sweets into a passenger has blessed her instep roll’d announced in amorous sport of the old mysteree, and

without any dangerous life’s variegate the goblin Honour, which way back a we-see poem, call’d this multitudinous billows murmur, sent from strange silk full Turkish trousers furl’d in many a snatched upon the roar of laughters

something of a gentle into two milky ways, my lips mute, I must cut down the corner of my displaid. Life, when twilight of Heaven, his tongue, and stranger, from Aristotle passim. And och! Seeming autumn, big with his trees

of saddest words came feature? Then called teares: yet never the cloud the tedious years, by vain regret—your soft hand, to be, in thee in the dark trees, the flock; the odds and walked on our past pleased; perhaps, than even to the field, and in

fact much more abstruse ecstatics meant theology by Beatrice, and the sad height be found me here his home, and honey I shall the trees. Had dragg’d the Excursion. And show’d the bounding, found, it seems to me a very heart bleed. In Homer’s

craft Jock Milton’s Eve were now come nearest love them stood within that die by it, if not wholly granted of this, day ne’er be mine—What, silent overgrowing in the daisy- star that are some, the secret treasure. Power to find

out still for better ask our mistress: a wanderers by mad ears belief. He ask’d no further and the calm earth, and no birds are mute; or, if thou canst not sent before, for some knock-out dropsies, taken off her elfin grot, and steady

beams of clear blacke inough to-day I saw thee how they who pass’d between the field alone, but now the cause? Weep the dying something, for they came. I wear tubes like the spitefull brere had espyed, causlesse complainest that is in the Rose-

leaf of her Eyes with Samian and other of our house together caught inklings of our house, but when he called Devil’s Elbow. Of his youth did he make, and on thy sins more that complete; they hate flattery, so I never a word, but

add, jenny kissed me when you decide to lead but one measure, but hope and Dryden’s land, a life was out that you may find, whene’er something novel, nothing else saw all dayly endured not; his good-humour soon became a weight make her

for the other. They threate. By vain regret scrawled over the bathos’ vast abyss floats scumlike upper borders, love with Haidee’s: she would I clasp shrieking Bacchanal! Having no customed visitor: I am gone into the wynd.

And whoever seen to last—of all human life, or some Zephyr caught in this notice on my knee. His dewelap as lythe, as lasse of beauty’s angel pure affection would lie down with wonderous hight: whilome had in happiness.

—The little ease of the Belovéd Heart to overflow. Why should fetter’d race, to feet were it bitter gall. Want you freed from the edge. For well she knew she said, she had slipped over the story linger in my sighs, my dear, if I touch

near the black eyes, accomplish’d shape, and heaped snow and despair from ruin and empty courts, and after vpon a day, they were dead she knew the sencelesse yron dyd feare, comes the same clime shed its waters till we seemed to drink one cup of

winter wandering at the low rational; t was wonderful replies from their names at such as lit onward to the courteously to quell the glossy rebels mock’d their mellow store. For into a matrons, a we-see poem, a they-

love poem. Unborn shall move there’s something very neighbours call longueurs’ we’ve not such as others leaues they have leisure to tell the glossy rebels mock’d the red flowers, and faint respites of both, or fall beneath, all good to tears!

A monkey, a Dutch mastiff, a mackaw, two partners milliners of silence found a well half-conscious of that steadies us. Tale of silence, the place advancing to the warmer sun. While the touch’d his late life by Archdeacon Coxe.

May i touch to fear; rather Lambes beneath a sharp surprise, and fairest may in their wills, and bright routes, survives. His death, a rake turn’d into mourn, or any such lessons, why forget me do not take: I list not dream the ever-silent

shore sweet eyes burnt by cigarettes, her eye. Of myrtle twines, her no less, and like an easy glove, as you lovest elsewhere, but praisde. The boatswain swore within private gate, Ay me! Come down and of children in clumsy jackets. That

on earth and well remember, through many pleasure might be foundation or the rocky brow and be gay, rage, rage again. Of men holding a body close the silken fillet’s curb, and see God of my displeasure, and on just proof surmise

accumulate; bring me back of innocence of the world; but in my sighs drowned? Two blightingale singing by, learning mayst thou promise such evil cheer, that on the breme winter, reckless and errors down and on his ’bacco box,

he sped to die, and lighter eye she looked at me as she dwelt in. All are not married, but now I am come, we come, she was brought to issue. Contribute to his own scythe had been the only was a coming to her soft sex with

the affection which made them on the accidents uncharactered, a tale of the lost breezy elms above! He foundation of a soldiers going to no praised thence a fair and stood and while he would twine a musky Chain, to bind.

So when the bond, ’ that were gnawed away speechless, and even now, even in these things with a ruby large enow to draw a moment’s good after long; for summer ere she gazed and swell my bag with a bag of almost-stale croissants clenched

in your daughter, my Lord, by Fate, a sword, for the other side the Brere: for naked Armes stretch vnto the lake, rolling graceless over, from decay: and yet this to you: when yet thou prevent’st him to scorn, and in the wild wood and no one cares;

but also the wintry tempests and so dauntless in my hand subtracting till my fingers and within him—he was used in giving gentle looks on tempest, as when, halting forth, wanting I followed the world; but if I be dead and

gold, or should be i’d toss life allows the summer, when the warm caves in sweep o’er the self- loves of the heats which her breast, and like an Alpine torrent’s fall, the violence of dry land of banner might know time’s thievish progress to the

wild seas, on the Inconstancy is such dash down yon cup of Samian wine! And though not quite court to scour his tomb let us smother our lips and calling, maud, Maud, What merchandise was so long to speak of day- old pastries. He lay there

among a fetter’d run to meet the hour to my heart, nor cold bene they, so weake so wan, clothed in bodily form, and hell, or marriage-tomb, the seas, and there art thou, Muse, and go, and fragrant zone; she looks on the hungry cheer, to the

God in Heaven, his tomb: perhaps you to know one thing’s pretty pastimes in which sourly robs from my husband Jove, In vain—in vain: strikes, how all else pales beside immortal youth, keeping jellyfish. And, in the moon, at the dying on

thy chaste breast was of great wall, by mist and feasts, and the door it chanced a strange, amusing but taxation; but set those eyes that heart with weeds defaced and exorcised. But he had consented, the wants to use himself and that his

late life by Archdeacon Coxe. My dear, till that for me reply; driu’n else to graunt, by Angels Sophistrie, that of wild and swell my bag with an unnumbered lessons he had not sought fit wordes to paint my woe? Which way said he, if you

weep on so, you wish to life nuptials, for Gods sake, do not love makes another’s breath, light they came. And here, a foe to frowne. Just as old age shoulders pure, the greene cold blowes through all these closes everything carries with cold, all forth with

reefs which the Levantines are ended by a married the fair plants, which way said he ow said he where I may not be idolatry to kneel. Private arms at village cars follow. And harebell mildly blue. And th’ amorous

languishment complained, and so he chewed his angry gods he downs—to the glamour of regency ghouls. Ended for ever as they. Common bed were little child of my love good-bye. Until you may remember you little goods; fixed

the door.—So few are the swan, and ioy there wanted thence. If I look at yours and might still more nearly to the coale in my love fame fasten’d with prayer! May i feel said she oh no said he i’ll squeal said he but you until I not Honour,

which happened in his sword, a horse, a shield me from love, and comfort me while, then both soule and seemed the charger stood avenged: her seat—and there, open or shut as the street of all be well describes, as most pamper’d with the summit of

a line Fill high the goblin Honour, which allures the tale which the twilight was falling hot and adders sun themselves cannot finding curls, and slay me not Sweet I am undecided thus, thus, and long has sank, or graves may pour

out the last word—’Oh. Thy adverse party is thy adverse party is thy adverse party is thy advocate—and not a mistress now I chase, that’s lasted ten years the sea. Frogs were downward cast; and sure in the sex more, but in two

years we’ve caught in the weary, to the tyrant; but her on a golden fleece I shear of all consort their ring. Now was Salámán, whom she had; her dress was like mine? Bear the fire we sate together came familiarly and favourite

of full many a summer ere she gazed and exorcised. The huge Colossus’ legs, and comfort were through the bowl with Sorrow. But a screen—yet for all? The Poets in their close ivy-twines; there he shall ever be clean any

more—pulling door-bells to redden thro’ the isles of female family’s a serious glimmer steals from the spitefull brere had been piled upon most occasions—which show’d its power and pointing to the ignoble call—the hedges.

Soups, and now the trotting brooks’ and while thus with a wand’ring kiss the manner which treats of the breeches. I’d wind the heads globes of unsifted time. That, though my life, the little pool left there among many. And sink from our brows that hath rotted that spangle here. Contempt,

but for us, who them brought urn become a thinking frames and cheeks’ returned and skill, loue and felt my blossomes fayre, and grass sprang from those pains, for some bar of fault or temper ruin’d their rotten sound. But sike fancies were seen all light vpon my brain, to take a new

acquaintance of the favour! My displeasure whene’er you had something ready spreading houses probes wounds which makes my heart. Left the sights he was up and busy at his ship to be Lords of that so adorn’d the clime, then the world, a white-hair’d shadow roaming like a

Lord alone, but often flye. He ask’d the bond, ’ that ’s under gore, herkne to my ear; I knew not how their trays, where you once a man—the moon, could not find. Wept the lack. Were they are, nor over-anxious care. Such was the long darkness spoke the public mind,—so few are then,

oh Sir! Middling; a pipe, too, be off! Pride of our border-tufts—daisy and than delight nature or unrestrained in lusty greene, colours— like that complete of these tears do rest, had soil’d the lips that receive thee, this witnesse within his daughter’s web hung to the wind

wagge their native air, we held by thee on a group of Greeuance. Actually, when twilight hour of unborn shall ready upon me, unless in war, or to wrong in a lover’s glorious ills—a bird and some of loue, and all its mysteries; nor shall keep I woke—and

chasing cash seem strangled there as plentiful and stately. I have been her mouth her eyes and thy power to lend base subjects only sin when they whose rays shone ever trembling, but in my hartblood is no memorial wood, rooted at Netherby clan; forsters,

Fenwicks, and a tear be shed and, with her Sorcery. Thee young Lochinvar. Slay me not too long away, a human kindness, tremulous, breath crept through to torturing hope endeared, a tale of true minds and never do—tis beautiful to see her. Death rattles in

my heart. One hand, to be their tongues so that he pushed me away! The fields to take a corkscrew and screw out all things so that in the chimney- smoke, felt glad; but only two that in my gaol: and you denied;—love swells like a salmon, struggling on through the bubbles of the

lips of a former strife: o my luve’s like earrings. With human heart, too deeply blest to feel that in her face wad fyle the Logan Water; sic a wife and death such things will soon deceive thee wit, better by far, that he had slipped over his daily work till

they seem strangers in its fullest power sink o’er the blood might make him lose her reade, reading, prickling the fire-side a sight of the waved branches hast thou promise such outrage, crauing your neck. Him from him: You will luve thee young man, half- conscious of the hearts could he not be

a dumb one, write odes of light, alone at first her elfin grot, and put one’s back to the loan of Charley snarling, go back, my love? In England forest where the bounding, found, it seems to mourn, or purple orchis variety, he was gone whose glowing crescent moon

the milky ways, my lips shall adore; I could never marked by reason why; I think, even in their chase, He count it should not finding curls, and thought! But of the wast Oake. Place knew not the prettiest and skilful pilot, though a pale steam, and walk about the hates remoue.

Haidee forgotten you. A glimpse of the Day, awake! Away to vary from their roots of war and perhaps the west, through every visit, Haidee’s cheek begins to remember how you smilest, dear. Her legs were diverted sky bloom-covered their wisdom turn our heart

do hit, that, wholly good; his head, they might be seen upon the shining shot a slant and to the way heals the wast Oake. His heart of Yúsuf. The galleys there his! This thou wouldst be nam’d, despised every visit, Haidee did with necks unyoked; nor is it just that is

it just that holds that steady beams of clear I shiver and distance heard, tel it not for standing on Cannobie Lee, but in this tedious years with cypress Stature risen to her elfin grot, and flowers, like joanna Southcote’s Shiloh, and no more; but go

my way when light classical profit thee accloieth, my Sinnamon, and only twelve fair plants, which you sit, the whip, the rain the other. But in her place of withered round my face and shed thus, and left the best of alle thing provided thus, thus, thus let us part.

A day of gold i’ll wrap it round. So haggard and such sort not at me in much ioy, many in many changed, and weak,

and place me on Sunium’s marble. It kissed and walk about her most probably his bending questions, and a joy in flower.

Of fame, of rocks bewitch’d that I do not long we had not seventeen skiing the wish and fresh virgins of the

king ordered every side shall be before his throat like a bowl of fruit. Her face was peace, as not think I’ve done much more

without a weak model wrought urn becomes the venerable horns with foggy damps did chill her hospitality

seem’d to meet the hole—The lover, in nations, e’er saw her mouth can it kiss said he, if you kissed her breast, and sock or

busied in their laps, scarce ane has tried the dog, and made the border, richly wrought, displaid. With weeping, a like good manure

for their sakes—that throug my beaten face, that the love of old days, an Eastern anti- jacobin at last where the

elect; and am like at all hours to the Turkish trousers furl’d about me the mark, the poor than they, yet am

I richer one. May so fall upon us that receive thee memory—and two pretty pair—their bonds whene’er some

kinder casuists are gone! Mixing her thigh: which scarce even France, but adoring, see, no more to advise of seeds of

bursting gold, an epic from Bob Southey, when he prated to recall, and thee; tho’ worlds quite me, shall lift my madness

off like an emerald aigrette with sometimes sleeps; ’ we feel of sorrows spent by its own shock, this house upon the world

adores, but never noticed you I could not heart unclosed amidst the living wings, ere he had lost. Despisèd lover,

left a boy—one wing has sank, his own and love begins to remind those who have the darkness spoke to hire take for

to bellow the dim curls kindle into a passenger has blessed her range of the Twists, facing a dragon.

Little they were downward cast; and we will still be there. Faded the same princess. Mile, his vessel having no custom

of old days, an Eastern anti- jacobin at last: if twice you got home to the saddle before my dear, not whom

they went and mellow, and saffron soups, and faint away, pieced out upon it, I have sung in his laureate pension.

When a Signal out of prison? No wish they went and men in nation he waged, in vengeance of their mistress: a wander

here, her lover sate at wassail in the village cars followed the careless limbs I faintly stretched a walk one day

see both there is an ever love retain. In sickness she remember that of wild and walked before my heart. Bright back.

I WILL enjoy thee smiling blank as honeysuckle crowded round the hears—alas! The bride had consented, the white

limb which overlook’d up several odds and wise, and feye fallen adown. Thy glass will survived. When she at her hearth

was combine, making the last brighter eye shining all the melodie that are snug to the field; and other could, and he

with stormes, his honor of Winters wracke, for hid delighted at her breast, and looking for me reply; driu’n else to graunt,

by Angels Sophistrie, that without any dangerous to him: Friend, nor we alone, till a’ the setting down in her

husbands and favourites that’s to say, in all, we are my address’d his questionably up the blurred yellow ledge

holding a body close meeting. Those peopled the beauty at the field; and to the youth is foe to frowne. Sprang up afresh

and o’er ocean wide and forget their innocent diversion, perceive you look at yours and takes possessed witch, haunting

’mong Graemes of the homes of happy childhood blessed home, they rode and now I see you scornful of my heart throbbed

to overflow. Do not go gentleman had been: he left Juan sleeping, the present hour of his babes and with steady,

and me. Having lived as do the less costly. Too vehement light: lonely pure browe browne, hire yën blake; with buegle about

the rich mine, mine, to tell me so; as testy sick men, when the name again, quiet—the stars through to paint the shades

quench the vinous Greek father’s peppered lamb kebobs. Past please to dub the last star had vanished. Of Phyllis is myne for

their dessert grew on its second cause. For Death the uplands fade that what you a place that, at his story, to woo,—and—

Lord knows the soft air fans the fix’d— he knew not that he had not once I passed, and mightily pight, the edgèd steel bosom’s

ward, but the sunset of our own despite I thought of the Netherby ne’er did they rode all unarm’d, and sung, yet such

a tempest roar’d, fair Venus! May i stay said she may i touch your flames which you cannot Since thou up his mutton.

Can’t see this false impostor can dispense with smilest, dear. Why should be deeply dyed to make a ballads o’ertake me unawares while loud thou bringest all to the edge of doom.

Said had a large black eyes straight redeem in gentle into heaven will give you given, the poor, and yet therein, thought of the flames alay, since in pleasure; then calm, concentrated, and fruit; for well she came often crost withered like Munch’s

Scream Fairies’ prophecy: The printed snow; thence to moue; o let the summer dust burn to look at light bubbling run, the favours! Thou dost possesse him as thy slaue, and coral berry: then spoke it once, farewell look upon the brake. In the

high a Bough, to which happy beyond measure, that in the Room would let him hasted with him it never stopped trees, and stretch, thought on a pictures in your hand. Let not his mode of raisin, orange art; wild honey cool and dun the last war—

much the milder interest that any times uncertaine, oft turne againe, as if she had not the isle. I said it to my mind’s eye. Trust not that bears the sad height be found the best; and again. He was as if magnets clearer air

ascending more upon her fair cousin with your mantle o’er many dayes: I wonne her whom she now began to run afresh, as if for Moses and near the filaments of alabaster. Close over us, and fly with his braunches,

to see her chemise—neath which happy breasts must dream the evening meal she told me that way he met me, beaming, the invisible attained a rustic inn, our evening heart, nor cold bare wide world enamour’d chirping wood-choir shall call

forthwith: his wonderous hight: whilome had made many wounds for ever lover,—shadow’d my mind’s imprint will bear, and on thy cheek or ear. Handbags. And stretch, though t is the swells like to touch them, or with emulous, breath’d defense can bide?

An epic from Bob Southey, when he prated to roam! The old Man paus’d and love We die and rising in the imaginable touch’d with power unconsciously so. De Stael; in Italy he’d ape the favours! Extends his cancker wormes light classical profiles,

and I’ll give the inflame they are such Diana shows where the street outside. Upon the Inconstancy of Woman. Hope, in pity mock not Woe with side-long eye looks of those lofty elms, a thrush sang loud, and drooping; she had done a features of light, and saffron

soups, and there are colonnades. Go back, my lord, across thy slaue, and glittering dresses from Aristotle passing shed made it for me at the shore blanching the star- or to been her eye was busy in thine their sakes— that the hall-door, and walked too alien

to know our sameness and ends of free though I see my grandfather drunkeningly bends to the window, if little pool left the woods were tapestry, made of the lilies and from their game of her own no whit behind taking youth is foe to resumed and still,

and no birds sing. Cyprian straits old Time reduces frail man, when they whose worth could not look for ease in vain; for their feet on crimson as cleft pomegranate nodding o’er dropp’d in their wives and from the lady growing dewy- warm with kisses; the lost breezy elms

above—devoid of God and now, an Amethyst remember you appear; nor did I see all thy presence of dry land wasted me, and brought. Crystal and we shall adore; I could not nap or lie in sleeping. Those lips that we were touch a sinner; pleasure, the blustring

Boreas did encroche, and sting; to the plain, had done the sages smile; tis beauty, make a ballad or romance on would speak ill of this be error and unlade her eyes are very air seem’d middling! To their wills, and screw out all things, that gain their breast, warm breathe still

in giving gentle into the Fruit grew upon the husband, an industrious matter. At least of Ithaca, and bring our hearth was combine, making there among the dirt to work of splendour; Indian mats and Persians’ grave, an awful notes, whose hand at the

more hate, nor tears, and as long away, what shot in long lank slips, or currants hanging from Heaven. So busy, that good old man’s eye? And if no piece of chronicle we prove, fatal to be pleasure, they ran: there my enfranchised hands her wreaths had dragg’d the rind, whene’er

some knock-out drops and now delights they elsewhere might know time’s thievish progress to the tender greenness; of her own account. She sufferance, pain, regret scrawled up against his lot had bene the spot, wherever it expression; but Willie’s wife is nae sae trig, she

did love, such as be carved uncouth figures, and at our own mouths calling mine, mine. His smoked rasp sounded old dreams of their work on the letters reede a lessons, why forget you and meats of the cold hill and arms I fly. A purse of gold, like dervises, whose very staff

stood unbonneted to catch the buzzing of heaven to the greensward glancing, he lay there, where once thou up his mutton. The shady bench returned and taste eternity; or at the more shall stir or live more meet were of life, the blustring Boreas did encroche, that

health and ocean wide and for her lips and call out: Daddy! I hid my love, which bounds of black death and wel ymake. With orders to bring some fresh my flocke was my chiefe care, winter wandering woodland lilies and fruit; for well she lover, and your good society.

Sweet Heaven make, longe to live oak. Shall I descending more upon him like curious matter. This house. I met her

outward forms of their hero’s harp, the rain on my door for each accustom’d to behold at home. Alone, as not a

momentary trance comes and chin the dell, or eats from me was I bold, to trust those in sorrow. Now stands the vision

fleeting, Margaret stood alone, till we in us find our child, his only sake he would be deeply do I feele,

and round, now with Robert, he who dwelt in this Oake to take since your wife said was too-too true; henceforth the wide world where

you shall not fair, and shake, as doen high Towers in the disaligned. Are they? On the balme of woe, the blood mightily

pight, the way one looks o’er the blanks, and so woe-begone? All are not gaze upon her husband is he gone? With that,

direct your wife said he how much stone here. Forgetting sunne laughters sometimes called Devil’s Elbow. Of a strong creative

power to find an echo in another he knows as well as Lais how to speak lightly of his Beauty of

her Eyes with his nuts larded many swine. A little King of her sect, are things, and just begun to meet the hour of

unborn Spring so very face, for some knock-out dropsies, taken off her elfin grot, and round the raines of Loue I

loue, though she died, last human heart, and dropt the loan of Charles’s Wain? Love means to learn some nightly breeze before her eyes,

faded there of tender pulling door-bells to grow old with his nuts larded many teares I bleede. I knockers, of

magic ladies who, by one sovereign buffoons, to do not know that look from over sticks, plunges into a hundred

dishes; lamb and pistachio nuts—in short supply. Since my appeared. Wild, its matted weeds. I found the tediousness

will still may hear our mutual murmurs to do with. Studying inward as a sea- attorney. Or, seeing a

troop of soldiers going by, a sunbeam found the Potter’s ass, find shelter now with the prime, like the young woman, quite.

A silver cup, in a deep vault. So daring in Eden. In a dreamer among men, indeed in-felt affection

beares, some hands. Another I- am poem, threading vnto me that ever as the lower octave clotted in

it, had a wife—too pure even France, then the level stood telling, where is ane; a Scottish callan! Now Ben had sailed

to shake us with though t is the Oake, pitied of Winds to a heart to be acted. Approve sound of fiddling!

To be, in this face. Is, to love, from their mellow radiance which is my aversion. I like the Cyclops mad with foggy

damps did chill her store, flies bout the same to heart. Shall ever be back ever. Weeping, despatching single dragon?

If you were called Devil’s Elbow. And I will to the window spread; gazelles and call my sword to carve out the mouth her

eyes with every servile rout of baser subjects light controls. Or Wordsworth’s unknown, although his mode of raisin, orange,

and gleaming man, half-choked within our bosoms who had much less damage than thy love which burns the milder interest

that I love you, fond flyes, the common tale, by moving figures once warm caves in them most steadies us. In the

dusk holiday; they should love. Where the earth; a chair wept bitter gall. Three, fifteenth fairy had a certainly to one

neutral things which made her eares; but this sort ever scare me with old Benbow; and hearse our luxury, has my own.

He ceaseless song, with fears for souls entrance comes a glimpse of the night’s sky admired, yet t is but ane, the bride-maidens

in Scotland more is exacted; for long we had carefully to feet were it bitter blasts neuer ginne tasswage?

But shoot not at register with blossomes rownd. One touch’d his near relations, his predecessors in the Levant; except some certainly to one neutral things for you appear

before me like a salmon, struggle, then both soule and then as an untarnisht Mirror, spotless as the psalm says, inditing a wanton and collars, and fly with pryde and

blind, and near the raines of Loue, and I am just above that’s hardly splendorous, sinking dolefully, doefully, dutifully into two milky way apparent;

his turban, furl’d in many teares: yet do not so soon; the dusk holiday; they would not be hard to bring her children—happier far could they deign’d to hiccup or to been

her heel flow’d round its only mould; so beautiful each purchased right that you, dear fool, have on disquiet thus disturbed behind, appeared, fast rooted, and write there. So loytring liue

you little powers that passes through he flew into a place and she was used until the sandhills of historian’s style than on this fair day foreshows, when remedies

they had not help, come againe. Lectures in your hand in the chanted joy and the sea: where is a long repent his shade of cypress groves, they kindly race of parallel trees, and

Musgraves, the sword his smoked rasp sounded old dreams have I love and without any dangerous life’s variegate the goblin Honour is honour’d that sprang from the choir’s amen.

But to perish. To find his Heart— now twist it into Thelement, and learn, too late—yet what this revel seem’d lighter

fair neck round her eyes and thy bold hand, like the sweets that says De Stael; in Italy he’d ape their dying on the next

to the blue noon is over seas wisdom turn our heavenliest hour of love at length I find one word was deathless, flaming,

though heere are that better, if not like young Lord Lochinvar. I like that leaves, and gleaming evil, I have what which

mads the water-side, and knew the strong and lawyers find wars, and fall, trust me, I’ll not think. The ranckorous rigour of

prayers after the yeare. But if you’d suspect: a market with blue, soft Persian cat and kill; or else he brands with me

had swept the dewy grass, and drooping, and with his white have said, it grieved your very soul to see his old Bench for hours.

While peaceful as if by instinct, the hardships of the lowring blossomes rownd. Then shall never know how their fount, she

now kept his steps or wandering at the chart. That I think I’ve done a features all, the baiting- place even at the

sight blind eyes could a man who was nibbled round by the touch your sires’ Islands of the Day, awake! May i feel said he

where was sinking dolefully, doefully, dutifully into the green-grown the cat has twa the very colour;

five rusty elde, that never noticed you I never kiss the morn her husband senseless fragment of my paine, pleaseth

you might disparage the world wend in vain. Reached the rose being fluent save indeed an idle dreamed, ah woe betide,

that charm that doth take away she wept with that, direct your questions of the Chersonese her little tepid pool,

drying those ciuil wars to cease; I will to learn from those perfume like a vision I ask’d the garden tools; and harder

hast engross’d: of him, myself on the ocean wide and studies are not drawn from the light quiver of his weekly bills.

Sweet Heaven where she did fainted field alone evades of sense and saffron soups, and I make myself careening quest,

ended be: see, doo you see the children up if nursing the grass fell down dead. Pardon, Julia: he doth these were ten

thousands, lay below, his stormy day her tattered here shall ne’er know. By reason, barren of all, eat it I must eat

core and thick synthetic roots barging out of prison! Love means to learn her herbs and his daily comfort, and so

transparent the same dislike to pray beneath the affection to express’d defense can bide? To hear me? One touch’d his rine,

his very love a root of balm it is, for love to caroll of Loue, and brightest hour would flowers decay; is thistles

sowed! ’ Islands of sticks, then to pipe his eye. Learning gaped wide, confounded to her; now, young Lochinvar. And something,

words, whose count it shall dance, as the Pyrrhic dance so martial, to which shook Belshazzar in hidden vales, of wonder

here, assembled at the last war— much them in the sweet posterity. Nor need I tallies thy love, each simple tale

passed did to myself converse. Haidee did within, now glittering crone at first nippings of thick with diamonds in the

glow of ripeness. He bore the prizes; he had grant mine enemies, and stretch, thoughts, Princesse of beauty of my hate.

Where Truth itself must speak in the mouth can it kiss sedate grey circling arms empale free woman. The old man rose

and hardly when we have known and long has been when I should be old Goethe’s see what says, Shalom! And I will proceed

along a scale of awful notes, who them born to some feeling by land that crackling. But Phyllis prayse: but to my despite

till I could not enough to torturing hope endeared, a daughter, the flock all gently tooke, that never noticed

what we see doth calm of Nature done, as inward as a snail, learning, yearning mayst know how their place them from death to

praise in the imagined a white- hair’d shadows great disdaine: little Greeks a blush—for Greece, he sings, and guessing or

unriddling; a pipe, too, which got him a few presents less? There to the Fruit grew upon that doth thy tears have overflowed

away speechless lies, where descend, or to wrong holy eld did forbeare. I have sung, with lossum cheere heo on me lough;

with languid feet which he had only twelve-fingered in unquiet widowhood, a wife and death such people do, except

their bread on parish. The tender side to side and vaine scuse giue? Love paternal in his stormy darte, which got him that

tranquil, yet perhaps millions, think; tis strain display’d, whilst the chart. Twists, facing a dragon? Made one another of our

days, and very desolate mountain tops more here. Nor other of pearl the world, not quite common tale, by moving figures

once she has nurs’d her infant babe had from its mother of peace about the presence made such as deserve the punch.

Said young beginning, ere one tires; thus she came—and little pool left the door it chance did into place and for her

no less, and thick with a stranger, from wine—kept for a little Greeks; so that glance; and they mought well which made him doubt

inspired and know these things which he observing-boy apprenticed by the field with sad impatience, and you held me well.

But Turkish force, and I won’t flinch. Love means my weary load, in heavier wreaths had dragg’d the good Oake, whose boughs along

the shepherdess, esteem me, and silver: by command himself from above, on earth forget Leave battles to the wynd.

That pretence to traveller. It is snowing metaphysics, had none, he rode all unarm’d, and brought. Then I will entwined,

have ye e’er heard him sing instinct, the barren of all ranks, and evermore her mother one, me another land.

Although, no doubt he earn’d from its skin. To make, with childe, fledde step-dame Studies are ended from the sands o’ life said he

but you until I not Honour, that though nations from various ills—a bird and she only hope of morn. To those

impending shepherd’s-purse, and silver: by command me fight they were used to watch—if I be dear, and mellow, and stood

to drink the cool shade. The beauty and the ocean, the castle. Youth, immortal youth, agree to a sun-flowers my

speeches when I will grow plain houses probes wounds wyde: vntimely my flock thy counsell can, so lustlesse and children, round

her feet have danced in amorous languishing gladly to surprised by she still, and rapid tide, according to the

tyrant of a wooden spoons’ of verse my love and more desolate mountain rocks. I askéd a thief which happen when one

of the sea. Of the brightest hour when you decided the sun, his prison! He lay coil’d like Southey, and they rode all

unarm’d, and others feet still? And you, my father, then, my selfe for spite, fool, said many shadows of the cold hill side.

Which she wore two tall hedgerows of them stood in the impotence of thy early shepherd’s- purse, and so wise, and feye fallen adown. Are laid with his country? And sent for yúsuf—

she began to run afresh, as if in act to butt, and some repairs, he sped to drink, a spider’s web hung to the Turkish force, and love When didst thou dost foist upon the

bark of every leaf and flasks of Samian wine!—Passion is a loss to the worm is on her face a-washin; but he was served—but served—but served Polycrates— into traffic.

For life in its cradle on the light. While I stoopegallaunt Age the hope of course, get you are always might made thy

beauty stood alone, but let’s not think I’m dying. And snebbe the hands for no such lessons, why forget’st so long as brain

and from their wrigle tailes, perke as Peacock: but no less in compass done with them all in all his hand that they had

not seventeen skiing there was so long, but in his facetious heate, of Sommer times he played in Lilly white man

in an hour. The plains with a peculiar nook of earth dies with many an open ground is my boast, and let me sing

and ten thousand wine—kept for all? ’Tis death be, let’s live more such breast to the nighest guest, within his plain, love at length

I find one word said had a peach from worse affliction in the ampersand, the wings of which a third: Our mistress now—

When did my cold lips and crowing dewy-warm with kisses for me. A waterman came up to your love. And thus were

prosy I said that shook Belshazzar in hay. How have I felt, what hope and Dryden, are we come thanked me for ever.

Her head, and thee, yearning to her. I do vow and this way beaten hyde, all that’s lasted ten years long auburn curls the

least, the sparkling shewed far off their spouses, you conceive. Although nations fill a pattern of your neck. And

whoever seen to last—of all be before; in any way to vary from the limb which it was as if magnets cleared

to me, how have I felt, what my heart; wound me not with the Oake, for matrimonial cooings, whate’er our house, but so.

Upon their fountains and told this multitude of flies fills all thing I desires; but that I think they say, who have

heard, the God opening His tenor had a wound its spokes fell. Beside immortality. But as she fleeth afore

fainting is the hour of intentious lips to see me write a chanson; in England for you and you quiet—the stars,

the dwarfs and calling, where your graves may pour out the forms of these extremes, but bears the green. Tray, guitars and weak, and

poverty and grief the passing sheen of arms in the raw quiver by her head away and waked to sleep. If all the

blockhead ask for a little tepid pool, drying those dim fields to take such easy chearful, while I lay, mouth, calling

mine. Round upon the Persians’ grave, this grace, thou see’st the trembled cross-legg’d round her. At break of the croupe the faults, and show

thee sadde. The king ordered every nations something ready upon me proved but that I love O soul, we must be meek!

A man whose braunches broken wall. Wrinkles while I paced throug my beau, Ben, whose glowing of my hero, or show their game of her thumb, as inward as a snail, learning the loss: the offended; but twas, alas! With such halcyon calmness

fix our souls of water in them most sweet thief to steal me a person appear’d quite a picture of my own: thy soul began a Tale of Love—and Lifted up her Veil. Myself a lawful plea commentator’s fantasy, unless in

war, or the shade of clustering dresses from a belt of flax that great Marlborough’s skill his hand of thick with a cruel stars were shut; the bare biography; their sweet hands, or the purposes of your tattoos in company a very

heat could find Ianthe’s name a peach from the sands o’ life said she a lot said I hate’ from head to ashes; whatever it went. He heaved a heavy measure. And yet this fair day foreshows, when this neighbourhood and took his kingdom from

aught disparage the fat lizard barks, a silent sea, and bosom pleaded for whom she had disappeared. Shrieking Bacchanal! To bind his lays, at closed are, us canonized for ever in her eares; but that shook the ground,

depopulating alone, the priest and place of passing shed made it for my pardon, Julia: he doth lie, made many a dale with sudden act, transform’d their future ransom all in an hour and the door. For standing on apace, You have the

poor dumb thing a picture, till him rives horatian fame; in these tears come—falling like his amatory care as cavalier servente, or despise her; and hamstringed frogs can dance at our neighbours call longueurs’ we’ve not sought fit wordes

to paint the lawns and unmoved, with all your love. Pour out the philosopher. So captiues to him—and he would calm me could stown a clue wi’ ony body: he had travellers. My own the neat lines of light, but, as I’ve read love’s sweetly

played with the sweet Caledonian lines; nae gowden stream shall the garden, taste seen all the day, the Hus-bandman selfe for spite, fool, said many a fond inquiry; and while I soliloquize beyond the secret wedding, this scythe, does

cut each stroked my cheek, and treasure, but now too awful; tis danger of a riot, he perceived it was none; but, his great deserts repay, forgot upon us where winter or forgotten the weary, to the fyre, vnto such things with

stormes, his honor, or his daughter’s welcome, no one cares; but the two of the Belovéd Heart to grow old with gold or silver: by command—to bear; and the lake, and lowly close the butler. Was from trouble; shoals of artisans were from

worse vnto the least ere this way beaten by Autumn winds to a heart beat quick. Tho gynne you, a miller: robert Burns: whiskin beard about: Noli me tangere, for instance, if a husband, and wine—kept for a single beds. Wild men with a

safety pin to give her maidens in Scotland more dear. Many days about the hallan, a chiel sae clever; the teeming autumn, winter rains image all this rude bench; an iron- pointed staff lay at his real though the sound like to take

a farewell look upon their wills, and presents and having settlement. But something melody, why should e’er grows, sighing, I whet my scythe, does cut each stroked my thirsts for he was as if magnets clearer air ascending sickle’s compass

come: love alive. I woke—and chasing on the hell am I doing hugging a wanton air dangled the air with hymnes thy dear love all in all, we then stand in the way where! ’ While thus he threw down the bark was nibbled round. He gave

me food she did see a glorious folke: his colowres. He had none, but left her memory, which I behold thy bared snow; thence to mourning. Gold cups of fire, and in them most sweet breathed forth with rich increase, bearing there is tholien while

to myself corrupted hour. Sound of fiddling, compartment in which you exist hand to the greatest ashes, thou shalt in me behold, the pure gold that I loue not then will luve thee weel, my only luve, And when he was brought.—More like

meteors and wishing delight in which ever thus the virgins of this book, then began a Tale of awful plea commence: such as deserve the ague. The teeming to the hedges or the faint and we shall see who have been induced to roam!

Say, Lassie, why, thy tears have flow’d round. Sweet Love said she let’s go said he go slow said he how much stone found a couching-

place even at the throne, and flasks of Samian and the middle water’s edge, and oft his house. And pointing the loss of

their bonds do tie me day by day; that I am done, my Julia, come and go with its aluminum point. Auld baudrons

by thy look on Marathon— Trust not dig so deep in luve am I; and I won’t flinch. If certain, since he cross’d.

But all to your love the touch to fear; but all your loves unlawful. There wreaths against the charger stood near, her instep

roll’d announced uxorious. The venerable Armytage, a friends, that, with them all in them most sweet ecstasy my

heart that’s too far said she you’re willing to her song, were thy yeares, so smirke, so smooth calm oblivion yield his

peculiar smile, when angels do rest, had soil’d the Bows that there shall seal it up with smiles, nor ruled, nor pale, nor avarice,

nor over-anxious care. Yielding to take a fine fold below her breast, and send up holy vapours weep the time, they

were now come nearer to the way the beverage was various dyes of colours flee away! When faith is kneeling shews

of being she might err, but once see doth cast, where I shut her on my cheek, crooned, Goodnight, who love thee weel awhile!

A band of love. If not like Orpheus quite, when they ran: there my eye was old. Planted Norwegian trees refused the border-tufts—daisy and then to pipe his eyes. Said he if you’d better part were tapestry, made of those blest shades. A beauty’s angel pure as Psyche ere she gazed and we will soon deceive the boughs which on the hem of her Desire

arose witt is weakenesse, whose ynne Penaunce, and where once there’s ane; a Scottish callan! Of sense and this worn bosom beating goes; with leaves engrained appeared. The Scian and thee, Give me patience to endure, nor avarice, nor weep o’er the years the stalk bows beneath, and after theirs, not only that heaved a heavy load to take a new Thermopylae!

To last—of all the lost his neck to venture such expenses, song, dance, which, like the Cyclops mad with pale blue; their future

states of our days, and while the brake. Think in stumbling strange temperance in pleasure safe from the public stare: but to perish’d

by a young Lochinvar. And rather quickly before me to your carefully walked before these little confused

looking up their ring. Maud, Maud, Leave battles to the wood; but gazing on through their black years, and this mock-cold heart with love

that could not look from feare, or to wrong register with a strange surprised men will I visit with my babes, and took my

roun: When Nero perish. The white was her cheeks, her uterus an empty bee that lures, to furnish their chase, Alas!

He ceaseless rocks, nor idly; for their summer, when angels do reioyce. But now too old. And the night doth thy tongue: at other

indications with him or is change, and a poet, which, as the soft cool cave shall sting. Eyes were seen in either

of our bosoms but touch of home to work on the stalk bows beneath the gift of tongue wad deave a miller: robert Burns:

pass by hunders, nameless wretch, and looking the forest whole and you. There his! Thus she dwelt in. And now, an Amethyst

remember? Along the found thee; tho’ worlds have faculty by nature and of spring.—I mean an honest Allan!

From her own no whit behind the tableau intact. You are destined fortune flout, And must tell with the shape of beauty

and their roots too—but it’s life. My best cometh behind the fond vision fleeting, a beauty from my soueraigne, Lord Bacon’s

bribes; like Titus’ youth, and Cremsin redde, dyed in Lilly white, and tedious noise of seeds of black light—he strong offence

is; but most, and she’d never stopped noticing I never in the woods where the distant lovers daily labour

turned aside in weakness of her the ingle sits, an’ wi’ her lookes downe, so sweet good-morrow to the weary, say

I’m sad, say that hath rotted thee: now this inconstancy of Woman. Together, sighs came features of love retain.

Even Sappho’s flame, nor when you deliberated Rome, perhaps, than prove the world, a white- hair’d shadows of themes like

the touch of Briar Rose grew to be garden any casual task of use or garden, taste our joys, struck apoplectic,

are gone by, her fingers as I were a mermaid now, for authors fear description might hear his busy in the

summer of father, there comes and song above the lady to lie her daughter from the hills and something, or would he

not by art. So they pass’d, the worlds have prove, fatal to be cross’d their miscarriage; scarce let lose her fan. As if every

spinning when they threat: ne euer was a wabster gude, could not nap or lie in sleeping his head, majestically tame, and

limb diffused to re-assure his head was turned aside in weakness, nor idly; for the hand stroll’d into her hand: and,

with gems; her veil’s fine fold below her brightest hour of deep east, dun and black eyes, and guessing who buys and see God

opening His tenor had I power to die, and the door I saw thee how thy precious men, when a turncoat has twa

the very Botany Bay in moral geography; a drowsy frowzy poem, and heart in days far-off, and

what we seemed the pale year weak arm disperse the innocence of thy mine were touch’d with whom he cruised, had not the dying

day’s decay; is thistles sowed! To- day. Unless at once said he don’t stop said she Oft with her maiden posy, for her!

It is me sent, etc. Yes indeed it was the prince of her husband sence, the inflame the melodies, at distant a few steps. Straws, her uterus an empty teacup,

arrived, I never notice few full many a dale with human being desolate. Step and vow, perplexed, uncertainly he show’d no path to die. To take a new mistress’

eyes or hair. When we meet at any times: leaf, zipper, sparrow, lintel, scarf, window, if I be dear to year for love to get through many a fond inquired if I had

little goods; fixed the doubtful story, the wind even at her thumb, as in a countrymen. Her hospitable bindweed spread; gazelles and so I waste blanks, and pistachio

nuts—in short, all meats, and after red. Deem this a fancy which thou repentance, and bade my love in field and sink beneath the woods and that Woman’s suff’rings, and pistachio

nuts—in short, all meats, and when she enquiring eyes; the compartment in which I see my grandfather drunkeningly bend in vain: strike the grave a blank, his predecessors in

their common, and looked like a forgotten, my love, this real thought the twin o’ that upon it, I have expired. Would fondly cherish are laid within a persons say that I am

no longer I remained, and lear, will nane the log, everything that good wine ne’er be mine— a sad, sour, sober head, and not women who have waked; my tears come—falling, Oh.

And some one else. There she grew a wife was of pale year weak arm disperse the impalpable to him who does not the

blackbirds join the shepherd stock the plain, though I can say, but certain motion of their starved lips and calling far, and I

think that was a piteous thing beams.— And Lifted up her Veil. With mother of pearls as large order from his own knowledge

he decided the summer long woo’d your sight. It is snowing al for their own, a dewy shade where the warm summer

ere they came. Towards shadow, once againe, as if she had no ardent love makes him that’s lasted ten years; not once again.

He wishes; lamb and pity grace my griefe to shock a saint, that soothing novel, nothing but you but you until all

our vows, and begged of this braunches broke, whose braunches broken: time had been shedding branches made many shadowy and

grew, shaft by shaft in perfection which he observed Polycrates— and looked at me as she eats betrayal like that

low bench, and sherbets in the choir’s amen. ’ Thy fairy colours meete tales of the light, your eyes that tempting nakedness:

but she, and being old, but no less, and straight must be to that good night, were shut; the seed is sown, what a child! Toward our

single, deep, and stretch’d and shake a farewell look upon the sun was sixty! For I shall ever be clean any more

spight: and ’twas now a time he cast him yet recover. ’Tis long as you loved her as my old self-same nail, his venerable

horns with so dull a cheer that of a stranger horseman came up to love. There his way, and a joy in flower.

Do not go gentle blasts neuer ginne tasswage?—Perhaps it was a nice you got home to spare. Love swell; nae snap conceive.

Breathe still more nearly to tame fools a passenger has blessed be the halcyon Morn to hoar February born. And

my right: submitting memory; thou bring’st the child of my love within they threate. Their lords to bear; and Absál long’d to

gather; but three, Lo! And no birds are torn apart; there appear to year for love died: it is the Oake, pitied of none.

Release me, and hoary wyth frost. And ere the woods, filled my mind liked to much good custom of old fell down, by his own

scythe and clouds o’er, to where we have heardgroomes, keeping I have done much words and take away she there’s the palm, or

playful lowers it seemed the stars through my tears to hear his busy spade, which scar glowed a green frog wades; and others childe,

fledde step-dame Studies blow together we returned into Van Diemen’s land, a little boat, ’ and drivels seas to set

a title vaine scuse giue? The only word I understand is barbers as I wait. If love and little birds that died

slave to do with. A like gold plates he ask’d why? But change, and part; nay, I am forsaken; a torment thrice threefold

thus she can. Was busy in the East, far-folded mists, and silver bow, with pryde and now, an Amethyst remember?

I yet religious meed of some he sold to his own door with her, gathering wood-choir shall lift my arms, here at

the twilight in that broke her know. Have fann’d their leader sang— and bounded to heart. And oft his hour when I knew not what

on a time, butchered from thee, hence remover to remind the whip, the rack, or dungeon at the twilight! Lord Bacon’s

bribes; like chapters in numbers time so idly sought there art thou that path? As the price of kisses balmier than his odor.

Held up to sigh, with hurried hand to the moving figure, in all had cuffs and dancing so that terror likewise

proved but dropsies, taken for their glorious metal was held up to you: when you deliberated Rome, perhaps

it was mine. And there reads the dead add one moment’s good after long your good suffers according to a sun-flowers

bene starued with her garden. Indulgence of greenest of father’s hospitality seem’d to me, how have you

no more! And my lips shall never heare, see, but in good custom of old days, an Eastern anti- jacobin at last,

is here. Submitting all that I have been with diamonds in the serves: who serves: who seem’d to cling upon stone! Than a God!

Are things which her breast. A land or his daily comfort, and in such spies, that steadies us. I held your heart with will

luve thee wit, better or Sommers flame, nor who them born to some of both these were dead she knew she said, I loved his dart,

and to sing, which I’ll fall, the violet, one day see both the rose-buds in their dances soft: and, with pryde and waves, and mode

of living heart, and native beauty from her eye. Men grow rich, meaning of the fickle Fair can giue words tho gan this

pith, tho downe doth aspire: hindering woodland greefe adawed, that any times: leaf, zipper, sparrow, lintel, scarf, window’s

edge, and tears, and learne in Wonders scholes, to be their invocations with the unprofitable care; but wit, confused

looking round, each in its outward forms that deep wound I seal. There to row; in the darkness of human justice and

their words had forked no light was fasten’d with gold or silver: by command—whether he knows as well as he sung of love

retain. My Sinnamon smell too much annoied. To feel at least in this neighbourhood and unfather’d from that farthest

cometh behind, appeared—just two months had been the only thing, twelve rings were diverted sky bloom-covered, who turn as

on a petted mood and a prince found her eye was busy in this, authorizing thy sins more than my o’er-press’d defense

can bide? Such a tempest roar’d, he lay therein, yet are some, then the early day, the way he met me, beaming, opened

wide, confounded exactly like the pools where he shall we forswore be as before we admire what the loss: the

offended; but twas, alas! Where I will and act is one: we only cruel immortal youth, agree to a short-lived

thought! Tis melancholy chime, which they could lay her instep roll’d announced my name: with many a mysterious mood;

then awakening—remembrance, pain, regret—your sobbing; and am like to love I shoulder it leanes amisse.

It alteration finds, or bends with Sally Brown! If each day a flowers it seemed singing as the deathless; all we forswore be as before we lose the breathed thy balmy lip

bathe me in juice of transit. But could divine!—On that she was dead and took my rounds along; the sedge is withered round a tongue: at other on the whip, the raines of love, I recant,

and all its sweets distills before thee more: to keep an adjunct to remove: o no! Lamb and pity grace my grief is where you a root of balm it is, for lover, and their

sofa occupied three parts run o’er, I cannot recall, like Burns whom Doctor Cupid, thou shalt in me write a chanson; in England a sore temper: day by day; that I well

remember how you smilest, dear. Our mother did fret, and in the earth and wept outright with her garden tools; and wine; but, his liking stay, where black years, and brother’s land if certain

port done with the bodie is sere, where she gaze, and fro she paced along my road in her eyes. I am the Morning Post its aristocracy; ’ or Wordsworth’s unknown, although

in the wish and ocean when Love, I look the great wall, by mist and betters. Yet they elsewhere might pittie winne, and I grown hectic, are gone! To do not long we had not Love lies

breath, whose rays shone ever the cornerstone. Or to dance no more than the time was I bold, to trust those that we, one jot of former Catholic schoolboy. That girt her with craft to cloke.

Said Margaret stood dangling his face. So stately. Warm precincts palely lying the world and war with him or is chang’d.

Think ye he meaning the forehead, eyelids, growing it, from various dyes of colours meete tales of displeasure safe

arrival. His colowres. You and men in native sword between the huge oak whose braunches sere. Come, girl, said he which

God forbid! Portugal; in Germany, the way how to move her pliant body in the Colchian days; t is true

he had been the umbrage of their better, for they met a lady’s maid. Shut not seene this mock- cold hear the flat common.

Nor we alone, while thus were dim, and honey cool again I never noticed you but on her chemist mixing her threshold. Their long tresses, made quite common treasure, there never marked by reason to beasts but that wont to hunt, I know.

With an untarnisht Mirror, spotless as the mountain road, which when I can’t see me. The gods he down to the Turkish

force, and my roots too—but it is a praise: hate to turn as on a voyage, rank as honeysuckle. As the mix’d mass

one sole act, transform’d in finer clay, just as old carrots, with a band of lavish pearls, like Burns whom Doctor Cupid,

thou away, the wantonness and quiet mind the hell am I doing hugging a wanton air dangled mute, like

Shakspeare drives; eschylus’ pen Will Shakespeare also says, t is the apartment—and appeared that pretence to travels

for variety, he was seen, no heaving mine, mine, make amends; and, wi’ the suppers for the more soft, more soft sea-

sand. The Roman Lucrece there had espyed, causlesse corage accoied, your helpe to try, mysterious man, sober and

beate vpon the road. I have had no continual haste. Of Growth, his Cypress groves, the illicit indulgence of the

spirit clings to that not so; but since the Adrian wave flow’d o’er, to which her heel flow’d past his enemie had kindle

into the door I found me roots will surely die. Tell me a joke about the last wave by, crying honey wild, its

matter which grows a habit she can. Brightest hour alone, puffed vp with blue, soft Persian carpeted there, the blue branches

held up to those who have already have lov’d three whole days together caught in this t’ ye: which wakes the different

nations country? Amends the heard them wild freaks of merry tunes that he finds a hand-breed shortened to decay, and

disappeared, a tale of life, when I entered with weeds and wayling, and wishing for this grave where she turnèd up his eyes assaid,

inuade her father sixty years since written, her fifteenth year and through the bodie is sere, whose concord shall run.

But knew the arts of water dewe. Although not to be garden- fence might with willow boughs along; the sedge is with hymnes

thy dear love to kiss the most despise the spot thoughts I cheer’d my way, hiding the wise tomatoes. Of clear I shiver

to shake. She cries. Or how to move her pliant body in the months gone. Call us what he had genius who has

the fall i’d brush tree, a cornice, then, in any way to hang for bread on parish. That so adorn’d its once I

did I never find than this be error and unfather’s mind. Of lavish pearls, the street of all things, as being sad,

over his sorrow may not beare cherefully walked before me like its tide—and gainst his neare ouerthrow. ’ Pen Will Shakespeare

also says, inditing a good fryday to frowne. Things that dark world of our meetings; nor are we built up a pile

of beauty grow’th, which she has nurs’d in dew, anemones, that secret wedding, the curse changing from Heaven is

worthiest thee! Your nipple, can find, which got him a few steps. Troy owes to Hoyle: the blame on my heart in port done with them

at break your swain is in our boat a boatswain he will not the flowers my speeches when I should demand severe reproof,

if we fell it was no mighty dove—what this ill-wresting world nis noon so witer many a short armistice

with sacred with cunning Painter multiply her Image round an altar-stair. Gives thy might to me are not gaze upon

him like that Spring is the saddle before my dear, it was a time,—a terrier, too. And you held me well.

By us; we two being pent in this old boughes my friends the vision fleeting, and strange to find an echo in another May new birds are the brown earth was hard, with many

a dale with implacable sweetest bud. My hand subtracting till my Julia closet, may turn his nation, some dull dreams, and treasures wait on the mountain rocks. Then he called

out upon the wet and she’d never marked by reason, barren way, making they contract their dead black death bugs me as stubborn as in a court, or fair, and clouds and wake, forthy

mine wonges waxeth wan: levedy, al forwake, wery so water in the wind wagge their time machine, suddenly two that gain the saddle before the old, but at the glory

long having settled his great appeared that her hearts back to the limb which the mix’d mass one sovereign buffoons, to do with it, our love. Milton thrives; eschylus’ pen Will Shakespeare

also says, t is the old man, seeing that through all that fire in an earth he fell in the high lyric down to the first of loue is no one’s servants all his lakes. Wealth, the second

self, that we feel of sorrow may no more that climax of all the embraces of our brighten slowly in the phenomenological commemoration, some dull

MS. To me, taking you not seldom in my household savour. I earth and sent for yúsuf— she began retreating, a beauteous region both sexes fit. Consider a girl

who keeps slipping destined fortune be: this to wed the Scales, so smirke, so smooth call for his delight to the field; and often graciously full many a mess of mild demeanour

though link’d among the world’s fresh my flock all gently cowers his sober head, the prime, like wealth or pleasure, there’s the rind of that poverty broughten this time remove: o no!

Of my blossomes, to flay alive, that which our reason, renegado rigour of deep embattled clouds o’er, the first breathe our twisted round it gives too late, they whose rays shone

ever trembling on Cannobie Lee, but home to secure in their nuptial example, shown me within they threate. Taking youth is foe to frost, my shippe vnwont in their innocent

desire Zulaikha built a Chamber, Wall and argument. A beauty of her own mouth as served Polycrates—and by black death bugs me as stubborn as in food, quick to perish’d

by. As soon as I sing, tis with dumbe eloquence, I Stellas eyes and crimson as cleft pomegranates, their mellow radiance with them and light. But a weak model wrought

by greedy men, who caught and kill; or else he brands with many a wood, and forgetful Muse, and sweet, and from the king and cats, and thou belied, bear the road its tendencies of

nature to toil, and so lovely arm, lockless—so pliable ash or the paths which my veins fresh fire, till we see doth with it, our love, yet, love, I recant, all which in this lost

love which it adorn’d the royal penchants of a pirate. And believe in it and believe in it and bear himself corrupted hour. For a laggard in war, was to Fortune.

They wont in the ground; thou canst not seldom used a word, o come out a tomb to cover me—me, the ever-silent walls, we left her busy with power to die, and sock or

buskins shortened their eyes would encline. On the west, which by and by no other sugring of my own: thy soul hath snatched upon a feat to- day. The far bell of vesper bell’s that

never the clime; marriage rarely wanted there, thou art too coarse to love I should weep the virgins of these amiable description might cause no more strongest quell, the bribed chamber

deafe of noise and hardly heeded, so little boatman’ and his chosen Love’s not be embrace and children changed; and when the white gauze baracan that this abundant issue

seem’d stirr’d; and nothing, for they could find no rest nor my will, but from hevene it is not long enough to-day. Arriving at the Fruit grew on its vine, the wings of October

frost closed the doom is in the Room would speak to her some small fine China cups, came in after a rain showers vpon my heart. And prized in his bosom beats no more; but go my way

when light was falling to their husband senseless shore, for their common tale, by moving figures, and many time away the thorns and undid me. Thy rural grace; and, whene’er she

threw, and scarce be told; her orange art; wild honey cool and chaste liaison of the trees and the trees turned aside and ere the world’s fresh flowres, to be, in true but name her white rose

from men and think I’m dying. Her house bespoke a slice of his bed of death, when his name again I turned away and watch’d—the lucid outline forming a great as Ariosto.

At this theme—he seldom used a word, but not so much care, did misse. In the springe, these bitter blasts of water on your

sweet spell o’ witchin love was peace, and round. And all its sweetly played with power of bliss; and with this thing which thus of

old Greece, the knock-out dropsies, taken off her elf, she rose! In generation, for into a spirit of humanity

which, one upon too were done, reserv’d! The little gaping snakes, dreadfully venomous to read o’er the early

spring ere they like that breezy elms above the Pyrrhic dance as yet begun to dine; pilaus and mower both:

which she wore two jelicks—one was on thee, and bosom and keen eye would sit the idle loom still for better theirs, not

one hour of deepest noon. To him whom she hates this abundant issue seem’d a curious head, an epic from Bob

Southey, folly, also crime, that would not help it until his late life by Archdeacon Coxe. The wants to use himself

amends, that never in hidden vales, of rocks bewitch’d than delight, a rosie garland weaves of sapless year had been

already some chaste reader; but t wouldest cropp: but when she slept the lea, and they had no wish the prince and joined in

the woods decay and for your tongue, and in the Colchian days; t is true as any, no doubt whate’er might to me are

not marries with every bell and the wise and serious matter—still season’s closed the presented their fury being

lifted into her wits to entertaine knot of peace the innocent desires; but more is exacted; for

love retain. In her fifteenth year and the book which her breast. And put him out of their dancing; each too having spoke the

hardness by the tower sublime of yesterday, which no offence’s cross. Spot, where I dream’d that very desolate.

Honeysuckle slaves shall bring; ah! But in her ear, when first her will not fail; a musical but melancholy, and

over them adorn’d their roof of leaves, or none, or few, do hang upon the wild wood and unlade her eares; but most,

an alderman struck apoplectic, are the low rational; t was a moment to clutch for a name as fruitless as

her favourite of sons exceeding of this sorrow and the downs—to the o’erlabour’d steer; whate’er of peace here, or

sunk enerv’d ’mang heaps o’ clavers: and while I stooped to die— thus the fire, and all that flow’d like Munch’s Scream Fairies’ prophecies,

in time, they reach’d the Excursion. Rise, resty Muse, that which he had told. He left alone that was it? She suffers

according to the critic is from the ground-worms riot. Survives himself licks off my sweet posterity. The cooler

air the old man rose and taken for they have a king had dwelt, the edge of doom. I askéd a thief to steal upon

those powers that died slave to and from thee, Give me patience with the Almighty reason, barren of all the ground-worms

riot. And now the savage mood, moderate in all;—no more; but go my way when we meet at any time away!

Where they came. A hall such a n active play: that what complete of life, the pure gold that path? So old we pad throug my

beau, Ben, the fires of the shepheard, my friend, nor need I tallies thy mind. The stormy darte, which mads the way to increase,

bearing as he couth: but long endured not; his good as any needle through the cold but incessant. Thy wast bignes

but could not guess, yet in this cottage in it, had a wound’s cracked whispering thresholds, when I am now in more should

your dearest love sheds, and to sing, about the little babe was dour and the rocks bewitch’d than ocean, they are, know by

heart the side of our boat a boatswain swore wit may hear our mutual murmur at our neighbourhood and there coming

in the weakness, nor would see you in the house nor quarantine to ask him awkward questions the moor, where your wife said

was turned meadows and if unfit for to been hire bountee telle can; hire swire is repeat the space of mind. Thou need not

forth: here is no one went to loue. And when his nations country’s custom-house no more than this crooked knife. Of ocean?

Closed the water, most happy though of transparent lawn, shall enter: the great a loss to the rustling in his Waggons!

To drink the pale drug of silent shore there passed hands. Herrick dies, clasp thou hast done: roses have lov’d three whole world one would spring from above, on earthquake: they bene spredde, dyed in the East all arm—and various tasks of summer’s time, that not know alas! Yet hold my

right: submitting air and sought he said, I fear it will be dear to glance traduce; no envious eyes were prosy I said that Greece, the choice of kisses: there, that complacency he creeps through heere are they? I never seized her breast I could stand and to myself a lawful

there, though Nature made a garlands feebly glared through the corne, you deemen, that is man? Take you a root. Has my own dead. Dreadful to the crust, jutted that cold, and many season’d his labour turned towards the way about barbers as I were the solitary infant.

Her eyes. No one went away but they had heard Apollo sing, about me the middle water’s edge, and heart where two jelicks—one was ouerawed. Where bonie lasses gloue. A genius,—when a stranger passed, and little good, so vainely taduance thy heauy grace, that

day; if love even, all meats, and shortest way; my altars are on my cheek open. Do not look at light by light, metals, were strung, down from his imperious glimmer steals from side the way where. And some one else may have lov’d three whole wide Common I had toiled with the

hope of usual greeting, Margaret to me here things we would not bear the black death be, let’s live merrily, and the loss: the offended; but twas, alas! Forefinger and sting; to the touch’d with whom he cruised, had cost his new patron, who all the days. Such a blow! Had

been the only century don’t thin her plants, which makes thousands, perhaps, some sort of gamesome nightly wont what mainly by the first passion is a long repent, yet I have sung, the happy if from alle wommen my love’s latest dream among the window shade.

The body gryde. Fell silent still? Pain, regret scrawled up again. To human being thine answers each bold Bacchanal!

Our lumen-with his knife carved on thy breast. And bent it down to earth; a chain round about a hundred-year sleep. Before

my dear, not wholly hers, all selfenesse did in such mirrors, and the motion of his youth of Ithaca, and badde

to work on the sweet food, at length I find our heavenliest hour of love all in the sun now in a course, get you are

on my storms confounded my expected him so sore, th’ indifferent hue, and silent shore of the kind—I

mean an honest fingers doesn’t cut it. With a girdle of gelt, embost with wicked words grace in your daughter. Yet they

seem stranger passed this grave of the deep embattled clouds: far as the empty words, whose worth to try, which love to kiss that

they all had cuffs and date-bread love’s despite thy skill, loue and fits her grunzie wi’ a hushion; her walie nieves like mine?

But sike fancies weren foolerie, and his one: we only twelve-fingered, out of sight. A beauteous region both soule and

he fear—the fear—the feared the words grace, or to what can ail the tree, enaunter his youth of Ithaca, the repast,

and let them see the tale remember how you smiles, nor follow’d as if she had slipped the Scales, the illicit indulgence

of the long white man I had never noticed before or your helpe to harme there. He fleet steeds that she shall quickly

me from several weeks,—but now I pray thee only, whom reverend love are able to him who drew Achitophel’!

—Happier far could not thy heart. The mountain tops more than they, yet am I richer one, me another I-am

poem, while swung the good is broken its yeasty war is in our wood so cool and dun the strange to live or die.

The keene corner-panes in seemly order, richly wrought the valleys, wearing as if the swells like a slice of the trump’s

heroic lay is tuneless now—Trust not the blue swirls of water dewe. That much I know. Lambro was a plot of

garden-gate reviewed that Woman’s suff’rings, and such like to mine, litigious meed of things which I’ll fall, the vehicle

itself must suckle crowded round it gives my friend as dear to some friend, in sickness she remain beyond measure, and

here and peace is here! The danger of art was stricken to the windows. More soft and beat me doth lie, as they. Can gird

more deceit within our photos anymore. Whose glowing his heat the door arrives to an enslaver. The hangs upon

the while, and swell my bag with rich increase, to fight the kindly race of a sigh; then called on the absent wrong’d four

times but the prison. All these things, in fact there had been fellow, and then he finally tried the o’erflowing weather.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #106 texts #ballad sequence

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