#kettle cove

[daysinayear2015]

Day 258: September 14, 2024

Took the toddlers to the beach. Cape Elizabeth, ME.

[manicgoblin]

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

Destinytober24: Day 2 - Tower

In the Destinypedia article on the Tower of Woe (from the Scarlet Keep strike) there's a quote at the top:

After much investigation, this has been determined to not be an actual quote from anywhere within Destiny that anyone has been able to find.

Link to Ao3 if you prefer to read it there

"Tower of Woah? …It's not that impressive."

"What?"

"You said it was the Tower of Woah. It don't make me go woah."

"There are times when you are completely incomprehensible."

"Pot. Kettle."

"Hmmm…"

"Don't guardians normally have to fight their way in here?"

"Yes."

"But we just walked in right through the Scarlet Keep and no one bothered us."

"Yes."

"And there ain't nothin' shooting us as we go up this elevator right now."

"Correct."

"But when I looked this place up in the Hidden archives there was footage of-"

"You have been infiltrating the Hidden archives? Again?"

"Well you said we were goin' here. I wanted to research it."

"You could have simply asked me and I would have shared the relevant files."

"But then I wouldn't possibly come across any irrelevant files. The amount of times I've stumbled across the most profitable-"

"Do. Not."

"Right. Sorry. Point bein'… the footage I saw had Hive Acolytes shootin' Guardians in this elevator from those holes in the sides."

"Alcoves."

"Sure, whatever. They were in there in those Al-Coves shooting guardians as they came up the tower like they was fish in a barrel. No cover. Shoot before ya get shot. But there ain't no one shooting us here. Last Guardians through can't have got rid of all the Hive in this tower. Those fuckers move back in hours after you clean 'em out. Sometimes five minutes if you time it right."

"Yes. But they are not here now."

"That's my point. Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why ain't they here tryin' to kill us?"

"Because I sent them away."

"You what? You can… command them?"

"The lesser Hive are easily compelled with sufficient magic and force of will, yes. The spell will last for the next four hours, which is more than enough time for us to make a full circuit of the tower and take care of anything we might find."

"Holy shit. I didn't know you could do that. That's… hot."

"Hmmm…"

"Wait… You said the lesser ones. What about the greater ones?"

"This is why I requested your assistance."

"You can't take on the greater Hive?"

"I can, and frequently do. However this is one of those situations you have mentioned before… where it 'makes sense to bring a friend'… just in case."

"Buddy system. I get ya. Surprised you didn't just bring one of the Guardians."

"I usually do. I will in future, if you prefer."

"No. I do not prefer. I like this. You know I like this."

"I do. Hence your invitation."

"Just not used to you… bringin' me along for… Moon shit… that's all. I like it. I hope we do it more. I'm happy to come with ya for anything, you know that."

"I do."

"Hey… wait a sec… is this… a date? This is a date, isn't it?"

"What? No. Why would it be a date? How does that even make any sense?"

"Creepy Hive tower… you scared 'em all off so we can be alone… maybe we fight something nasty together… murder is a form of love for Hive so us killin' something big together is kinda-"

"No. We are here to set wards and confirm the tower's energy is not being put to even more nefarious uses than it is routinely. It is not a… date."

"Not with that attitude."

"Ugh."

.

"Hoo-ee! Four Ogres, six Wizards and nine Hive Knights… It may not be the Tower of Whoa but it sure is the Tower of Ass-kicking today."

"Tsch."

"That was fun. You should take me out on dates like this more often, Moondust. You really do know how to get someone's blood flowing."

"Hmmm… Yes. You should use your ghost for that."

"Nope. Not gonna."

"Do not be ridiculous. You are likely to lose consciousness from blood loss before we even get back to Sanctuary."

"Nah. Brought a first aid kit. Gimme a bit and I'll have myself patched up. It'll be fine."

"A first aid kit? Why would you bring a first aid kit? You have a ghost."

"Because you don't."

"What?"

"Rule number one about hangin' around Lightless, is you bring a first aid kit in case they need it. My ghost can't do shit if you get hurt."

"Do you… always bring a first aid kit when you are… with me?"

"Uh… yup."

"Really."

"Well… yeah, Moondust."

"That is… extremely thoughtful and… kind."

"Really? Wild. It's almost like I like you or something."

"Or something."

"Hey… you sure this ain't a date, Moondust? Cuz when you're up close touchin' my face all gentle like this, it really is very nice… and it almost looks like you might wanna kiss me right about now."

"Do you never stop talking? Even now… with our lips so close together… you are still… talking."

"Yeah well, if you want me to shut my mouth so bad, maybe you should shut it for me."

.

"Ok I take it back. It is the Tower of Whoa."

"Tsch."

Link to the entire month's worth of prompts on Ao3, posted daily.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

When you said Jack never came back from World War One, what did you mean? Do different countries have different ability to revive?

I mean it in a poetic way. A running theme in my writing is the facets of humanity lost and found across a life span. I think most people can put flowers on the grave of someone they used to be. Jack's is just somewhat literal.

The usual story is of Gallipoli as a birth of a country the beginning of a national identity. The baptism of blood and fire. There's this construction of a mythos around it for both Australians and New Zealanders. I... Kind of accidentally put that arse over the kettle because it's the place I killed him. There's a quote from Game of Thrones of all places "kill the boy and let the man be born." Anzac Cove, Lone Pine, Quin's Post. These are the places I took him and to a lesser extent Zee, apart.

There's something very sad in the enthusiasm with which the Australians in particular went to war. The western world went to war in 1914 in a storm of hysterical nationalist joy but it always read a bit— more earnest from the Australians. Maybe they were just less subdued than Canadians or Brits or New Zealanders, I don't know. It's a good part imperial delusion but it's not like all of these men were entranced with the imperial project. Men like William Sing and Caleb Shang were a part of the Australian expeditionary forces too.

Jack, as an individual, isn't raised on heroism. He knows what his father is, he knows what soldiers did in his own territory. But there was this glamour to it. This sense of bravery and decency have to exist somewhere and maybe it is on the battlefield. Certainly there are countless stories. They give out medals. In the American part of the anglosphere, courage and bravery are the terms most used but for the Commonwealth, it is gallantry we think of as deserving medals. In effect it means Bravery but also has this connotation of chivalry and decency. He has women in his life who have shaped him as much as the men and rough hewn but honest decency is something he thinks the world needs more of. He thinks war will make more of it. He thinks a kind and spirited boy will become a gallant but fair man.

Instead, his sister buries that boy on a spare bit of the cliff face.

The man who comes back isn't depraved, he's still funny and friendly. But his anger is darker and his optimism is tainted by fatalism. He stops trying on a lot of things. He protests constantly, refuses to play as a team or fight at all sometimes and becomes a bit hedonistic. And misanthropic. So misanthropic. He's always liked animals a bit more than people but oh it got so much worse after WW1.

[shmaptainwrote]

[CH.8] New Doctor on the Block

Chapter 8: Fear of the Unknown

Pairings: Hawkeye Pierce x fem!Reader

Characters: Hawkeye Pierce, Frank Burns, B.J. Hunnicutt

Summary: Reader and Hawkeye balance on the line between friendship and something more

Warnings: angst, they're idiots

Note: Again not gonna lie as much as this chapter is frustrating I LOVE it. also i know this is late BUT barely anyone reads this so does it really matter???

Series Masterlist - NDotB Masterlist

“If I see even one more eighteen-year-old in here I’m going to talk to MacArthur myself,” you groaned while taking off your mask and tossing it in the dirty laundry bin. “And what I’d give to get out of these scrubs.” 

“That can be arranged,” Hawkeye teased, but you were too tired to shoot him any kind of retort. 

“It is an honour to serve one’s country at the front, I don’t understand why all of you make such a fuss about it.” 

“Think of it this way Frank, if we kill all of our young men how are we going to have any more patriotic Americans to fight in World War Three?” you asked sarcastically. 

“Oh hardy-har-har,” he crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re all a bunch of peace-loving pacifists.” 

“Yeah, pretty much hit the nail on the head,” B.J. nodded. 

Once you had washed up a bit Hawkeye offered you his arm, 

“Walk you to your tent, madame?” 

“Of course, kind sir,” you curtsied and used the hem of your scrubs as a makeshift skirt. 

You linked arms with your fellow surgeon and began the walk to your tent from the OR. 

“You did well in there,” you told Hawkeye. “With that back injury. There were a lot of tough calls, but I think you made the right ones.” 

“Thanks. It’s funny, sometimes after one like that I can barely remember what I did,” he admitted. 

“Call it operating fatigue,” you said as you came up to the front of your tent. “This is me,” you shrugged. 

Hawkeye was about to wave goodbye and turn away to head to the swamp, but you stopped him. 

“D-Do you want to come in for tea, maybe?” you asked. 

“Tea,” he nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I could go for a cup.” 

You opened the door to your tent so he could enter and immediately went to boil some water in your kettle. 

“I get my parents to send me tea bags from back home. I can’t start my morning without drinking a cup.” 

“So not much of a coffee fan then?” 

“I’ll drink it on occasion, but I prefer a nice hot mug of earl grey any day. I developed a taste for it when I was serving as a nurse in England. There was always plenty of tea to go around,” you answered him while placing two tea bags in a couple of mugs you had in the room while you waited for the water to boil. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in here before,” he commented, browsing at the few things you had brought from home and put on display. “Magazine clipping?” he asked, pointing to a framed picture you had of a cozy little town tucked between a forest of maple trees. 

“No, that’s home,” you came to stand next to him, picking up the frame and examining it. “I took that picture before I left, just a little something to remember it by.” 

“Reminds me of my hometown,” he said. “Except maybe make it a little more coastal and add a dash of lobster theme here and there and you’ve got yourself Crabapple Cove.” 

“I guess that makes us neighbours then. You’re in Maine, I’m in New Hampshire.” 

“I really can’t say no to lunch with your family when we get back then,” he remarked and you chuckled just as the kettle began to whistle and you quickly rushed to take it off the heat so it wouldn’t wake anyone around you. 

You poured the boiling hot water into the two mugs while Hawkeye came and watched you work almost as intently as he would if you were performing surgery. 

“Here you go,” you passed him a mug. “Careful it’s boiling.” 

He took it from your hands and placed a curled knuckle under your chin, turning your face to his before you could pick up your own mug. 

“Your tip, madame,” he murmured, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Your eyes fluttered shut and your arms found themselves wrapping around his neck while he put his tea off to the side on your table. 

“Your change, kind sir,” you mumbled between breaths and kissed him back, waiting for the other shoe to drop, something to go off in your head and tell you that you shouldn’t be doing this. It didn’t come as fast as you thought, your head was too busy swimming in feelings you hadn't felt in a while, but when it did, you were quick to pull away. 

“Wait, wait wait,” you pushed him gently off you, just at half an arm’s length. “Ben, what are we doing?” 

“Well, if I’m not mistaken I kissed you and then you were kissing me back. And I don’t know about you, but I quite enjoyed it.” 

“No, I-I don’t mean that. I mean us,” you let go of him fully now. “I have kids at home, I’m a mother. I-I think I’m past the stage in my life where I can just do a nighttime rendezvous.” 

“What if I told you that’s not what I want?” he asked. 

“I-How can I believe you?” you squeezed your eyes shut and walked to the other side of the tent. “There’s a new woman every other night, Ben.” 

“I-” he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “There hasn’t been one in a while.” 

“How long is a while?” you asked. 

He went silent for a moment.“Since the first night you came to the swamp.” 

You pursed your lips, “That doesn’t change the fact that I have a family to think about.” 

“And I’m starting to think this really has nothing to do with your lack of faith in me,” he pressed. “What is it really? Because unless I’ve been hallucinating, we’ve been tiptoeing around this line for some time and I’d like to think it wasn’t all one-sided.” 

“What do you mean what is it? I have responsibilities, Ben-,” 

“So do the rest of us. What’s the deal?”

“And why does it matter so much?” 

“Because I find these conversations go a lot better when both parties are telling the truth about how they feel!” he insisted.

You felt the lump in your throat begin to grow and you knew you couldn’t hold in what was in your heart any longer. He was right, he deserved the truth and you needed to say it. 

“You want the truth, Ben? I don’t want to fall in love with you because what if I lose you like I lost him?” you fought back the tears that were coming on. This was exactly what you needed right now, another thing to make you look like a helpless woman. “It’s just one thing after another, after another here, and I can't guarantee I’m going to get home safe to my kids let alone giving a piece of my heart to another person only for it never to be given back and buried six feet underground.” 

Hawkeye ran a hand through his hair and let out the breath he was holding in. 

“Look, I-I can’t guarantee anything, none of us can and I know that’s frightening. No-no it’s absolutely terrifying but isn’t that the whole point?” he asked. “Even if nothing happens you can’t guarantee you won’t still fall in love with me, and… I sure as hell can’t guarantee I won’t fall in love with you anyways,” he chuckled humourlessly. “I can’t even guarantee I already have.”

“I just…I can’t do this right now,” you shook your head. “I think you should leave.” 

Hawkeye said your name in a pleading tone, wanting to work this out with you, “I-I know I haven’t given you even the slightest reason to trust me, but I promise I’d move heaven and earth if it meant you’d be happy again. Just…let’s talk this out.”

 But it was late, you were tired and you couldn’t think straight. 

“Please…Ben. I-I just need some time,” you whispered. 

He sighed and nodded his head reluctantly before turning around and leaving you alone in your tent with your thoughts. 

Tags: @montyfandomlove

[akiwitch]

Secret Santa Gift!

This is for the @writeblrcafe secret santa event! I hope everyone likes it, I had a lot of fun with it.

Keeper

Summary: Wren is the keeper of the Dragon's Nest Bay light, and one calm night she heeds the call of the alarms to a very different visitor.

Word Count: 1352

The sea chimes woke Wren up from a lovely dream in the dead of night.

She pulled herself out of bed, nearly hitting her head on the rafters that sloped over her bedroom, panic driving her forward. She activated the lights in her room with a tendril of magic and grabbed her robe, throwing it over her shoulders. She yanked her hair into a messy bun and shoved her feet into her boots.

The sea chime rang clear and loud over the water.

She glanced out the window and frowned. The sea was calm and flat, the heavily round moon glittering on the surface. 

Still, the chimes ringing meant she had a duty. She grabbed her goggles and stepped into the lighthouse.

Wren took the stairs two at a time, hanging onto the railing. It was a long way up, but she was three months into her internship and only a little out of breath when she reached the top.

The top of the lighthouse was carved to resemble a massive, curled sea shell, the light nestled within it like a pearl. It glowed softly, having absorbed sunlight for several days without needing to be activated. Wren put on her goggles, making sure that there were no spots the light could leak in before she stepped beneath it.

The sphere rotated slowly above her, bigger than she was tall, and she was not a short person. She placed her hand on the bottom.

The swirling design of her magic blazed across the surface, blue and green before blazing into the same silver light as the moon. Lines of magic raced from its surface, filling in the entrance to the cove with a net made of thick strands of light.

A small village sat near the lighthouse, sprung up due to the safety it provided.

But the lighthouse was only there to keep monsters out for their own safety.

The cove was too small for a kraken or a sea serpent. If they swam in at high tide they would quickly be trapped, hurting themselves in the process.

So the lighthouse had been erected at the top of rocks at the cove’s entrance. The magic was too much of a strain to keep up permanently, so it was only erected when something large enough entered the bay, usually during a storm.

It wasn’t completely unheard of for something to want to rest in the shallow and calm waters of Dragon’s Nest Bay during a clear night, or for one of the massive bottom feeders that swam down the coast to become curious about the cove on its journey.

Better safe than sorry.

The magic would last for a few hours, but she needed to keep watch, to be safe and offer any aid. She’d already helped a young lost kraken and bandaged up a siren brought to her by a massive turtle.

Besides, the Sea Witch might not care if the town was destroyed, but she needed to get snacks and tea from somewhere, and sometimes she was even brave enough to hazard a conversation with the woman who ran the gift shop, even as she reminded herself that her time there was limited.

She could sit in the chair she’d placed up there in her second week, maybe get her kettle and a tin of cookies out of the cupboard that shared space with the one in the kitchen. It would be a long and probably boring wait.

But for the moment she leaned against the railing. It was cold, with the damp wind coming off of the ocean. Even this far up in the worst storms she sometimes got hit by spray, but it was completely calm, not a cloud in the sky, just a myriad of stars embracing a full moon. She breathed in the salt of the air and watched the silver light of her magic and the moon play on the calm, flat water.

A ripple cracked the moon’s reflection.

Wren gripped the railing, leaning out as far as she dared. 

Something moved through the bay, straight for her. Fast, like an arrow fired under the water. She could just see something glowing beneath the surface, heading straight for the cove. She glanced at the net, it looked strong and uniform, and the light glowed brightly like a secondary moon.

She braced herself for an impact, ready to push back against whatever was so determined to come into the cove.

It swam directly to the base of the rocks and crashed through the surface, sending a wave that hit her, clear up at the top of the lighthouse, soaking her straight through even with her robe.

She shoved her sopping hair out of her face and saw a dragon.

It was a sea dragon, glowing a pale green, body smooth and glistening like a whale. Its head was slightly domed like a beluga, its fin-like wings spread out on either side of it. It clung to the rock face so its face was even with hers, turning its head to regard her with one shining blue eye.

‘Wren Ackerly?’

Wren winced back, the voice was loud, and layered with the dragon’s true language underneath it, making the words confusing to her ear. “Yes?”

‘I am Ceta, a messenger of The Sea Witch, and I come bearing fantastic news!’

Wren dropped into a bow, her wet robe pooling around her. “I am ready to receive it.”

It wasn’t a holiday, as far as she remembered. Just a normal night before the sea chimes started. Now she knew exactly what had set them off. 

Still, there were rules and propriety when it came to greeting a messenger of the great Sea Witch, and any dragon demanded a certain amount of decorum, though she was still dripping wet, shivering, and in her nightgown and robe.

‘She has declared that you, Wren Ackerly, are now a full sea witch in your own right!’ The dragon proclaimed. Magic formed fireworks around her, dazzling and bright blue, glittering all around the lighthouse.

Wren was confused, but didn’t voice it out loud. She hadn’t completed her internship, she hadn’t even started on her thesis, let alone her master project. Maybe it had been a mistake.

‘Congratulations, as the new Keeper of the Dragon’s Nest Cove Light!’

“Wait, what?” Wren lost all sense of politeness. “I’m…assigned here? For how long?”

‘For as long as the Sea Witch sees fit! You have performed the duty excellently, and the Sea Witch has assigned you as the permanent Keeper! Congratulations again, Wren Ackerly, on your status as a full witch. Here is your familiar!’

A bundle of wet seaweed fell onto the roof next to her.

‘Farewell, Wren Ackerly, until we meet again!’

“Hey, wait a second.” Wren started forward. “This is an internship, unpaid even, I can’t just stay here, what about-”

But the dragon launched itself off of the rocks and back into the bay, showering her with salty water once again. She stood, frozen, for a moment, trying to process everything.

The bundle of seaweed moved.

For the second time that night she shoved her hair out of her eyes.

A little face stared up at her. It wasn’t a bundle of seaweed at all, but a very large leaf sheep, magical enough to live above the waves. It crawled up her leg and latched onto her arm, nuzzling against her shoulder, the green tendrils on its back shaking.

“I didn’t agree to this.” She pointed at it. 

It didn’t seem to care, a soft purring noise vibrating its tiny body.

She sighed. Since the dragon had set off the sea chimes, she could go back to bed. Maybe in the morning she would discover this was all a strange dream.

More likely, she’d have to come to terms with being the keeper for a very, very long time.

She thought about the gift shop owner and sighed. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

“C’mon, Wooly,” she said, naming her familiar the first thing she could think of. “Let me show you around the tower.”

[bobmccullochny]

Kettle Cove by BobM_NY Via Flickr: Maine Meander Series All photos are my original work and protected by copyright. bobmccullochny@yahoo.com

[scenicworlds]

September 30, 2024

Kettle Cove. Cape Elizabeth, ME.

[heysatanitsyourgirl]

Hello this is a open letter for whoever is in charge for casting Netflix’s live action Scooby Doo show:

Hi I’m sky! I’m a 19 year old Actor in the uk and you should most definitely hire me for the show. I’m on the cusp of an undergraduate degree in acting (yeah a literal degree in acting!) which covers tv and film so we’re good dw.

Though I’ve never been diagnosed, every friend group I’ve ever had has said I’m autistic (pot calling the kettle black) and I had a very unhealthy (positive) attachment to scooby doo as a kid.

Still do. I’ve seen every movie and every show (bar the new adaptation from a certain ex office cast member)

Mystery inc. is my ride or die. I’m a watcher forever.

In fact every night since I was 7, I’ve drawn the curtains over themselves so there was no gap for the Freak Of Crystal Cove to peer into my bedroom and accuse me of stealing a piece of the Panispheric disk. I still do this. Every. Night.

So anyways that’s me showing you how dedicated I’ll be to getting the character RIGHT which will lead to positive audience reactions unlike a CERTAIN show-that-shall-not-be-named that came out in recent years

(willing to over look my hatred because you guys collaborated to create something I loved aka Never Have I Ever <3)

Anyways this is very sincere and to make me seem somehow even more appealing then my current lack of show reels is: i’m also not currently attached to any actors union so you can treat me like shit and I’d still thank you <3

That’s why you should hire ME above any of your already well connected nepo babies<3

[armadoth]

🎶✨ When you get this, you have to write down 5 songs you actually listen to and post them. Then send this (ask or tag) to 10 cool ppl✨🎶

thank you sm to @ngelwaves for tagging me <3

(ryan teague i love you)

i tag @westernraspberry, @vampiredisk, @hellokittygarbage, @crsentfairy @funkychunkyjunky, @itsaskyfall, @rottengurlz, @maleeni, @glittermutt, @saturngalore, @tetonet, @usagisvpremcy, @the-daydream-archives, @missatan, @ig0rge, @gigglecoffin, @cupidspixels, @crazy-lazy-elder-sims, @444proxy, @148dazed, @magbay, @mrsimqle, @coupsim, @percminaj

(and sorry if you have already done it)

[daysinayear2015]

Day 135: May 14, 2024

Ezra is getting some serious cousin time this week. Cape Elizabeth, ME.

[proxnotxaxfool]

❝ why didn’t you wake me? ❞  

the boat had lodged itself on the sandy banks of a cove along what he now knew what the vannath coast of lucis. going on the chatter he'd picked up, it was somewhere west of galdin quay, and east of caem coast.

it was lucis though.

it was solid land and they were off that fucking boat.

a hop, a clamber up worn track from the coast to top of the cliffs and a hitchhiked trip on a truck had gotten them as far as a gas station in cauthess. he knew there were two main imperial bases nearby, namely tollends stronghold and pepetouss keep, but night was closing in and reno knew they had to find a place to stay for the night before the dusk faded into black and daemons started to spawn, so this place was as good as any.

he'd pilfered some gil from that truck driver for his good deed, but needs must and the teenager had needed some currency to secure that small caravan for himself and loqi ... his little brother had fallen asleep during the truck ride to the gas station, the poor kid had been exhausted, and this was all such a shitshow - mama and papa's boat hadn't followed theirs in the hours he'd waited before leaving the coast.

the weather had been poor - perhaps their boat had veered to accordo? either way. his papa had told him to find meldacio and find a man called david auburnbrie and that was his mission right now - keep loqi safe and get to that meeting point.

shutting the flimsy door on the caravan, reno allowed himself a small exhale, dropping his guard ever so slightly now that they were in the private confines of the temporary lodgings. yes, there were still two imperial strongholds too close for comfort, but he'd take the small victories where he could right now - come first light, he'd figure out a path to meldacio.

why didn't you wake me?

reno cracked his eyes open as he heard his little brother's voice, a practiced smile on his face as he moved away from the caravan's door.

' you needed your sleep ... we're gonna stay here just for tonight and then head for where papa said he'd meet us, that sound good to you? '

the teenager quirked a brow, trying to keep a positive lilt to his voice as he went to the small kitchenette, filling the kettle with water and setting it to boil. he rattled two ramen pots at his little brother, holding both out for the boy to see.

' take your pick - seafood or spicy garula? '

[thedaveandkimmershow]

Wednesday, April 3

By the time Kimmer nudges me awake, it 'wa's a little after nine in time for breakfast that's already, as it turns out, being cooked. Hash browns, bananas, and tangerines for us. Hash browns and breakfast burritos for everyone else. And then a lot of sitting. And reading. And studying. Surrounded by a light breeze, warm sunlight, and the sound of Pacific waves down below.

Introvert time. 🙂

Kimmer 'n I also spent, one after the other, a long time on Kimmer's phone with Linzy who had fantastic personal and professional news to share. Which it really was. Plus it was fun to get a bit of sustained time talking shop with her. The arc of her career continues to blow me away. 🤯

After that? Quality time, maybe. Definitely quantity time. At the picnic table. In one of the camp chairs. Reclining in the teardrop trailer. 

That wasn't all me. But close.

It really was just being. With the sun. With the breeze. With the sound of ocean waves.

At one point, Kimmer 'n I take a walk around the loop just to get some body movement going. It ends up being more of a stroll, taking in the sights as we go. Nothing significant, of course. The flowers. Campers relaxing by their rigs. Children riding their bikes about.

It's peaceful is what it is. You don't feel the weight of things living like this. You definitely don't feel Time. Even though it passes, it passes beyond our sight.

By the time we're conscious of it again...

It's 430.

Finally, Kimmer's ready to step away from her studies and research and so we head out for a walk as the sun's just beginning its arc into sunset. We decide we're gonna walk Pacific Coast Highway north a ways to a bar down by the beach and then walk the beach back to our camp. Kimmer lets her cousin know that if we're not around for dinner we'll just figure it out ourselves.

So.

We head off along a trail below us that parallels the PCH until it intersects the sidewalk.

Unfortunately for us, that's about all the sidewalk we get to use because between us and where we're going there's a long non pedestrian stretch.

No other choice, we turn to walk back the way we came, showing up at camp in the midst of a taco meat dinner.

Kimmer chops up some celery 'and 'n things to improvise a taco salad that we sit down to eat. Afterward, we jump into our escape campervan to drive the less than a mile to Trader Joe's at Crystal Cove Promenade shopping center which is lovely at this time of a setting sun.

Back to camp we go with Kimmer locking herself away for studying and research in the van that we have to heat up a coupla more times during the night. To get her ready for the rest of the night, she needs some hot water for which she's filled a tea kettle on the grill. All I've gotta do is turn on the grill.

All I've gotta do.

Is turn on.

The grill.

So I open up a little propane through the grill, then I ignite the propane fueled lighter that produces an intense, almost purple, jet of flame. I position that flame under the grill and WHUMP.

Everything under there seems to ignite for a moment, then recedes, leaving the hose connected to the grill (not the propane tank) in flames.

A little. Not a lot.

Still though... flames.

So I kill the flow of propane to the grill.

Nothing. 

So then Kimmer's nephew kills the propane itself, twisting the valve all the way left.

Nothing.

The hose is still burning.

So Kimmer runs to get her cousin who's on the way back and we all learn this lesson:

Righty tighty.

Lefty loosey.

Meaning we managed to turn the propane valve all the way open... not all the way shut.

Not a good look for any of us.

The fire finally out out, Kimmer retires to the van to continue her studies in a reasonably explosion-free environment. The rest of us, meanwhile, stake out seats around the campfire. Because the grill is functionally useless, Kimmer's cousin places the tea kettle on the "campfire", a steel box filled with steel forms that's fueled with a constant flow of propane. A cool looking thing, it manages to keep us warm every night as we gather around on canvas seats.

Once more, peace descends under constellations that appear one by one overhead as the night becomes ever more night-ier.

By 'n by, it's time for Go Fish around the table with the boys.

Now, last night I got Kyle to bust out laughing just as he threw his head back to guzzle a drink.

This night, it's his best friend Dylan who manages an even more cataclysmic effort. He's got Kyle laughing just as Kyle's got a full mouth of hot chocolate.

So now Kyle's bent over laughing while his buddy, who knows all Kyle's buttons, doubles down on making him laugh.

At this point, Kyle knows he's in serious trouble of losing it so he leans over the side of the bench which is right when Dylan sticks the knife in with one final reference, a very in-joke that pushes Kyle over the edge.

Next thing I know, I hear a full mouth of hot chocolate hit the ground below Kyle and then we all lose it, shaking uncontrollably with laughter.

And that's just us getting started.

We had a fun night until it was time to call it for fear of waking up and keeping up the smaller campers in our area.

After that, Kimmer 'n I settle down for a peaceful night's sleep in our van.

It's called Gobstopper, by the way.

Just thought you should know.

😉

[mylo-space]

Welcome to Your Future

Chapter 11: epilogue.

-

When Pigsy told MK that Macaque had gotten his memories back, he’d sort of expected a little more out of the situation. He wasn’t sure what he wanted out of it exactly, but he’d at least expected the shadow to be a tad less antisocial, but there hadn’t been any sign of Macaque in days. Pigsy and Tang had suggested giving Macaque space, and he had, but after a week of radio silence, MK decided that he was tired of waiting around.

He pulled up to the dojo on a day that was meant to be for training anyway, so it wasn’t as though he was trying to blindside Macaque with a surprise visit. Besides, he reasoned to himself as he parked the tuk-tuk outside, it wasn’t as though Macaque couldn’t hear him coming, what with the ‘magic hearing’ and all. And if the shadow had any qualms about him coming with no notice, then MK might suggest that Macaque get a phone so he didn’t have to be surprised by visitors–not that the recluse appeared to get many.

It seemed any concerns about surprising Macaque were unfounded, though, evidenced by the door opening before MK could even make it up the front steps, much less work up the courage to knock. “Hey, kiddo,” Macaque greeted, “I was wondering when you were going to show up. I was starting to get worried.”

MK spluttered for a moment, “You were- well, if you were so worried, why didn’t you come by the noodle shop or something?” he demanded. “You could have at least told me you were okay instead of just hiding out here in your dojo.”

“Yeah, probably could have,” Macaque agreed, stepping out of the door frame to let MK inside. “Come on in,” he called over his shoulder, “and take your shoes off. I just finished cleaning up in here.”

Crossing the threshold and closing the door behind him, MK was surprised to find a considerably less intimidating building than the one he’d gotten used to. Macaque’s place had never been particularly unclean, but it looked dusted and tidied, and the weapon racks that MK had been knocked into more than a few times were tucked against the far walls. “Huh,” he said, kicking off his shoes as he took a glance around, “so, uh… did some redecorating?”

“Figured I could do with an update,” Macaque confirmed. “I was recently reminded of the many wonders of the Mortal Realm,” he gestured to a TV sitting across from some new furniture–a couple of cozy-looking chairs with end tables. “This place doesn’t really serve me well as a dojo anymore, so I got some things to make it more comfortable.”

“It’s homey,” MK complimented, noting the rug spread across the floor and shuffling around on it aimlessly. Macaque hummed his appreciation, busying himself with something in another room–a kitchenette of some kind that MK hadn’t really noticed until that point. “This is kinda- like, this is weird for you.”

Macaque chuckled. “It’s not, actually,” he informed MK. “My alcove in Water Curtain Cave looked a lot like this before I brought most of the stuff here.” Something clattered, and MK peeked around a corner to see Macaque setting out an electric kettle–perhaps another ‘Wonder of the Mortal Realm’ that the warrior had taken a liking to. “It’s not quite Wukong’s treasure cove, but it’s a hell of a lot easier to organize.”

“Yeah, I don't think Monkey King ever bothers to actually organize that stuff,” MK mused, leaving Macaque to his devices and walking in awed circles around the room. The building was still made of hard floors and exposed pipes, but they looked less ominous with sprawling rugs and Macaque’s collection of artifacts on display. MK had seen a lot of them before, mostly the weapons, but the slight remodel made a surprising amount of difference, drawing MK’s eyes to the paintings rather than the spears and swords.

There had always been a number of pictures adorning the walls, but they had been straightened and cleaned to show off the vibrant colors. They were old, paint cracked with age, but Macaque had clearly taken good care of them over the years. Somehow, MK wasn’t particularly surprised by the idea of Macaque collecting and maintaining them; given the whole shadowplay incident, Macaque really did seem like a lover of the arts, when he wasn’t busy being the world’s shadiest teacher.

“You mind watering that evergreen behind you?” Macaque called. “Doesn’t need much, there’s a spray bottle next to it.”

MK glanced around, spotting a plant on a table in the corner. There were a few of them, he noted, but the one behind him was small with a few dry-edged leaves. “Uh- yeah, sure,” he grabbed the small spray bottle, giving it an experimental spritz before aiming it at the plant. “You trying to pick up a new, uh- like, a plant hobby? Because this is kinda cool, you know? It’s better than the shadowplay thing, anyhow.” He cleared his throat, setting aside the spray bottle, “No offense.”

“None taken,” Macaque said easily. “Hope I haven’t put you off shadowplays too much,” he made his way across the room with two steaming mugs. “They’re not a bad medium for storytelling if you use them right.”

Gingerly taking an offered mug, MK replied, “Yeah, well, maybe you can show me a less nefarious type of shadowplay next time.” He absently blew at the floral steam, the smell of tea calming his nerves a bit, “You do know, like, normal shadowplays, right?”

Macaque hummed. “Guess we’ll have to find out, huh?” MK made a disapproving sound and took a sip of the tea in his mug, though he quickly pulled away, the contents far too hot to enjoy properly. “So,” Macaque continued, indifferent to MK’s glare, “what brings you by?”

“Gee, I wonder,” MK muttered, setting his mug on an end table to cool. “Not like you disappeared for a week or anything.” He gave the warrior a pointed glance. Macaque at least had the decency to look something close to apologetic, idly swirling his tea with an odd, pensive stare. “Are you hiding out here to avoid Monkey King?”

“I’m hiding out here because it’s my house,” Macaque corrected, moving to set down his mug. “And I’m not avoiding Wukong, I already talked to the guy a couple days ago.”

MK balked, “You did?” he asked incredulously. “You guys weren’t fighting, were you? Because he’s not- are you listening to me?” he demanded as Macaque turned to walk away, the shadow giving him nothing but a dismissive wave in response. “Look, with the- you know, the whole Azure thing? I don’t think Monkey King is in a good place to be fighting people that used to be his friend.”

“Relax,” Macaque said, inspecting a tall plant in a corner of the room. “There was minimal fighting involved.” 

“Minimal fighting,” MK echoed. “And what does minimal fighting look like with you two?”

Macaque tsked and opened up a portal, reaching through and pulling out a small watering can. “Tend your own garden, kid.”

Certain that Macaque was using a turn of phrase, but uncertain of the meaning, MK gestured to the plant he’d just watered. “I just helped water your plants.”

“It’s a kinder way of saying ‘mind your own business’,” Macaque supplied, once again disappearing into the kitchenette. “You’re so hung up about what Wukong and I are doing,” he called over the sound of running water, “too worried about everything else to worry about yourself.” MK pursed his lips in thought, watching Macaque make his back to the plant in the corner. “You should be asking questions about the things you actually want to know.”

“I actually wanna know what’s up with you and Monkey King,” MK protested.

Macaque nodded absently, “Uh-huh, I’m sure you do,” he said, “but whatever issues I have with Wukong, and the issues Wukong has with me, aren’t any of your business.” His movements slowed for a moment, brows furrowing. “It wasn’t fair of me to put you in the middle of our fight in the first place, and I’m… I regret doing that.”

Which was almost an apology, MK thought, the closest he’d get from Macaque, anyway. Still, “So… why did you do it, then?” he asked cautiously, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. “I mean, like, I get you have issues with Monkey King and all, but that seemed, uh- personal.”

“It was a bit,” Macaque agreed. “I definitely wanted a fight with Wukong, but there was a lesson in there for you. I should have been a lot better about that than I was, though,” he admitted. “I got hung up in all the ways you were like Wukong, I thought you had to be taught lessons the same way, too.”

MK tilted his head. “With a circlet?”

“By force,” Macaque clarified. “I knew what the Lady could do, and I thought I was preparing you for it by taking your powers, making you watch me fight Wukong.” He reached with his leg for a small stool, stepping up to water a small, hanging plant. “And I didn’t want you making the same mistake Wukong did when it came to the friends department,” he added. “He made everything a hundred times harder for himself by not listening to the people that cared about him, and I couldn’t risk you making that mistake with Lady Bone Demon putting the universe on the line.”

“Is that why you put my friends in your stupid magic lantern?” MK stressed  “I did notice they were gone, you know; I just thought they were just ignoring me. I mean, I definitely could have been listening to them better,” he admitted, crossing his arms self-consciously over his chest, “but I wasn’t, like- it wasn’t like what you described in that play.” He shook himself, summoning back his frustration. “Seriously, how did you think that was a good lesson plan?”

Macaque made a vague noise, carefully dropping off the stool and kicking it back where he found it. “Eh, hindsight’s twenty-twenty.”

“No, that- that is not ‘eh’, and then we move on,” MK said firmly, something close to anger taking root in his chest. “You kidnapped my friends,” he emphasized. “I don’t care how ambiguous your morals are, I know you know that wasn’t cool.” He jabbed a finger at Macaque angrily, “I can deal with you pinning me to mountains, and teaching harsh lessons about fighting and not fighting or- just, whatever, okay? But-”

“Your tea’s cooled,” Macaque interjected easily, taking his watering can to another potted plant. “Wait much longer and it’s gonna be cold.”

“This is seriously what you’re doing now,” MK demanded, trailing Macaque around the room. “You- you’re just making tea and tending to houseplants, huh? That’s it?”

Macaque hummed, tilting the watering can over another plant. “That about sums it up, yeah.”

“I’m not buying it,” MK said flatly.

“I reckon there’s not a lot I could say that would convince you.” Macaque opened up another portal, sticking the watering can inside. “But there’s really just not much else for me to do anymore.” The portal closed and Macaque gestured to a chair, inviting MK to sit. “I figured it’d be better to be somewhat productive with my free time now that I’m not scheming as much.”

“As much?” MK echoed, edging closer to the chair next to the end table where he’d placed his mug.

Macaque shot him a sly smile, “Well, you can’t blame me for scheming just a little,” he reasoned. “Wukong and I might not hate each other at the moment, but that doesn’t mean he’s not fun to mess with.” MK gave him a disapproving glance. “Hey, the teasing is mutual. You won’t catch Wukong saying a nice thing about me anytime soon, I’m allowed to mess with him just a teeny bit.”

“Yeah, whatever,” MK muttered, finally plopping down in the chair. “None of my business, anyway, right?”

“See, now you’re getting it,” Macaque praised. “You can't always be running around in other peoples’ business.” He reached through a portal and plucked out his own mug of tea. “Can't help anybody if you're not taking care of yourself.” His nose scrunched in thought. “Well, I guess you could, but what’s that gotten you so far? Wears you out after a while.”

There was a part of MK that wanted to argue, because being a hero meant you always helped; busy, tired, scared, a hero was supposed to help. Maybe looking out for number one worked for people like Macaque, but MK had been bestowed with a power he couldn’t run away from, and knew he had to use those powers to help people. Just because Macaque was kind of a selfish asshole, didn’t mean MK had to be. 

But as much as MK liked to play dumb sometimes, he’d seen firsthand what Macaque and Monkey King’s relationship looked like before disaster had struck. Macaque, before he’d been a scarred, mysterious shade, was a good, unwaveringly loyal friend who followed Monkey King, no matter how stupid and hopeless and lost the cause was.

The shadow had helped fight an Emperor to build a paradise, and what did it get him?

“Okay,” MK said slowly, carefully picking up his mug of tea and cradling it in both hands, “I think I got it.”

Macaque hummed. “Got what?”

“This lesson,” MK shuffled to sit a little more comfortably. “The whole ‘tend my own garden’ thing.”

“Wouldn’t be a very good co-mentor if I didn’t teach you anything,” Macaque replied. “What do you think?”

MK sipped thoughtfully at his tea while Macaque took a seat, grunting a bit as he lowered himself into the plush-looking chair. “I think,” he started slowly, “if you want to keep co-mentoring me with Monkey King, then you have to stop talking bad about him all the time.”

“Probably,” Macaque agreed.

“But if I keep asking about Monkey King,” MK continued, “then you’re probably gonna end up saying something I won’t like.”

“And,” Macaque added, “your noodle shop friends tell me that you’re waiting for Wukong to be honest with you. Asking me about things kinda defeats the purpose of waiting.”

Disappointment tugged a bit at the corner of MK’s mouth. “Well, am I ever going to get a straight conversation out of you? About anything?” he demanded.

Macaque shrugged. “I did promise you at least one.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And I sorta promised Wukong that I’d stop being such an asshole to you and your friends.” Before MK could express any kind of hope about the situation, Macaque added, “Wukong isn’t safe, though. He gets all my wrath, all the time.” He chuckled a bit as MK deflated. “Sorry, kiddo, but we still got a long way to go before Wukong gets any sort of kindness out of me.”

“Oh, yeah?” MK asked. “Then what was that smile in the Scroll all about?”

“None of your business,” Macaque sang. “That’s about to become your least favorite phrase, by the way. Keeping you out of my qualms with Wukong means you don’t get any more monologues.” He set aside his mug of tea. “But, as long as you’re asking the right questions, I’ll be as honest as I can be.”

“Great,” MK deadpanned, preparing himself to deal with Macaque’s convoluted way of giving advice. “So, what can I ask about?”

“Depends,” Macaque replied unhelpfully. “What do you want to know?”

MK thought for a moment. “Well,” he said slowly, “I guess I wanna know… I mean, you don’t hate Monkey King like you say you do, right?” Macaque merely blinked at him, looking unimpressed with the line of questioning. “Come on, man, give me something.”

Macaque made a vague, contemplative sound. “Alright,” he conceded, “I don't hate Wukong.” His head tilted a bit, studying MK carefully. “Satisfied with that answer?”

Hesitating for a moment, MK furrowed his brow at his tea. “No,” he muttered, “not really.” He set his half-finished tea back on the table and declared, “This sucks.”

“Because you’re still not asking the right questions,” Macaque insisted, settling into his chair and reaching for his mug. “What do you want to know?”

“You-” MK huffed in frustration, “You don’t hate him, but you sure did act like it.” Macaque hummed into his cup of tea. “But now you're- you know, this. And, I don't know, maybe…” He racked his brain for a way to properly phrase his question. “Why don’t you hate Monkey King?” he tried.

Macaque clicked his tongue. “You know… that is an interesting thing to ask.” He shook his head, looking something between exasperated and fond. “You're going for the real heavy hitting questions, huh?”

“A certain co-mentor of mine encouraged me to never hold back,” MK reminded him.

“True,” Macaque conceded, putting his mug aside and lacing his fingers together. “Let’s see… I guess I could hate Wukong. I’ve certainly got enough reason to, more than most folks who hate the guy.” His head tilted thoughtfully. “But hating someone takes more energy than people realize and, frankly, I’m just too tired for that anymore.”

MK’s brow furrowed. “You’re… too tired to hate Monkey King,” he clarified doubtfully. “I’m pretty sure you run on spite, dude, you don’t ‘get tired’ of anything.” He narrowed his eyes. “I thought we were gonna be honest here.”

Chuckling, Macaque admitted, “Well, it’s not exactly a lie, but I suppose there is more to it than that.” He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Look, Wukong and I, we knew each other for a long time,” he explained, “and people like that just become a part of you, whether you like it or not.” His gaze grew distant for a moment. “Hating them doesn’t accomplish much when it feels like hating part of yourself.” He appeared to snap back into focus, turning on MK with a question of his own, “I mean, do you think you could hate any of your noodle shop friends?”

“Of course not,” MK said immediately. “Never. I’m, uh…” He tittered nervously. “I’m more scared of them hating me, to be honest.”

The shadow raised an eyebrow. “Why?” he asked teasingly, “because you’re always dragging them into helping you save the world?” MK glanced away at that, and Macaque must have realized that he hit a sore spot, because he amended with, “You know you’re not actually dragging them into your problems, right? They help because they care.”

“Well, sure, but nobody really dragged you into helping Monkey King, either,” MK protested. “You did it because you cared about him, and now you're... not friends, anymore. Or you pretend not to be.” He picked anxiously at the zipper of his jacket. “I don’t want that to happen to me and my friends, you know? I don't wanna end up pushing everyone away.”

“I don’t think you’ll have that problem,” Macaque tried, “you’re not Wukong, kiddo.”

“But I'm still ‘just that bit too much like him’, right?” MK muttered bitterly.

“In some ways,” Macaque replied, “yes. But you’re not like him in the worst ways.” MK glanced up at him curiously. “Wukong loves to fight, you know. Loves the thrill, loves the glory,” his lip curled a bit in disdain, “loves to win.” MK had just enough time for a heartbeat of panic before the shadow’s expression smoothed over, “He’s gotten marginally better about choosing his battles, but he still loves it.”

MK made a disinterested sound, “Fighting, yeah,” he slumped in his chair a bit, “not a huge fan of that, myself.” Macaque hummed in agreement. “You think that’s a good thing?” MK asked. “Historically speaking, it’s how I’ve solved all my problems.” He weakly mimed punching the air. “You know, by fighting them.”

“And it caused all of Wukong’s,” Macaque pointed out. “You fight because you have to fight, not because you like it.” He gave a vague wave of his hand, “And maybe that’s caused a few hangups, but it’s also given you allies. Friends, even.”

And MK frowned for a moment before realizing what Macaque meant. “What, like Redson?” he asked. “I mean, ‘friend’ is the word I would use, but I don’t think-”

“It’s not just about Redson,” Macaque interjected. “A year ago, the entire Bull family wanted you dead, and now they’re entertaining you for dinner.” MK pursed his lips in thought. “It’s about Spider Queen giving you time to escape the Lady because you talked to her instead of kicking her while she was down.” MK’s head snapped up at that. “Good hearing, remember?”

“Right, the hearing.” Fiddling with the fabric of the chair, MK admitted, “Look, I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at here.” Macaque tilted his head. “I made a friend out of someone who wanted to kill me, and some other lady who wanted to kill me died so that I could escape–surprise!-another person who wanted to kill me.” 

The shadow’s brow furrowed. “Uh… well, yeah. You made allies. Even if they were temporary allies, I’m telling you that’s a good thing. ” He leaned forward a bit to try and meet MK’s gaze. “What’s eating you?”

“Macaque, all those people got hurt!” MK exploded. “People who literally wanted me dead got hurt because of me.” He crossed his arms, curling into the chair defensively. “You say I’m good at making friends like that makes me any better than Monkey King, but what good is that if they’re still gonna get hurt, anyway?” He scoffed, “The only difference is that they trust me first. That doesn’t seem any better.”

An understanding washed over Macaque, his expression softening somewhat. “Ah. I see.” He sighed, and MK was shocked to see a glimmer of magic flick over Macaque’s face. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with what you overheard Wukong and I arguing about, would it?” MK’s gaze darted away as a long, jagged scar came into view. “Kid, I said I was gonna be honest, but I can’t do that if you don’t ask the right questions. So, do you want an answer or not?”

For a long few moments, MK wrestled the decision, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’ve tried leaving my friends out of my problems, and it doesn’t work.” He took a breath, slow and steadying, “They just insist on coming anyway, or- or they get taken from me, and I’ve-” He sat up straight, “It’s pure luck that I haven’t lost any of my friends so far. That luck is going to run out, and then what?

“One of these days, they’re gonna get hurt in a way I can’t protect them from, and they didn’t sign up for that!” He pressed a hand to his chest. “I didn’t even sign up for that!” He stood up, waving his hands around in frustration. “I didn’t sign up for- I’m a delivery boy! I didn’t want to fight people, I didn’t wanna almost get my friends killed!” He rubbed the back of his neck, pacing a small circle around the new furniture. “I mean, it was cool, you know? Beating the Demon Bull King, saving the city, Tim and Jim–or whatever those twin demons call themselves.

“But saving the universe?” MK pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Like, yeah, if I have to, but it sucks. It sucks for me and all the people I drag into it!” He turned to walk in the other direction, circling the chair like a clock. “Enemy people, friend people, people who hate me, people who care about me…” hesitation slowed his steps, “and people like you.” Shame crept into his chest, quickly realizing how emphatic he’d gotten over what was meant to be a civil conversation. “I keep hurting everyone in my path, and now I’m here, rambling to you about my problems. Again.”

“Kid,” Macaque pressed, insisting as gently as he could, clearly aware of how worked up MK had made himself. “What do you wanna know?”

MK shook his head. “I don’t know. I think-” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I mean, you and Monkey King were close, right? And you got really hurt.” His hands closed into fists, balled in the fabric of his jacket where Macaque couldn’t see the stress. “Did you ever regret it? Being his friend?”

For one heart-stopping moment, Macaque simply stared at him. Then, “I have several incredibly complicated feelings about Wukong,” he said finally, “and I have more regrets than I could ever put into words, but I don’t think my time on Flower Fruit Mountain will ever be one of them.” Macaque firmly set his mug on the end table. “Wukong was–and sometimes is –a selfish asshole. But,” he added before MK could protest, “we fell out with each other because we weren’t good at communicating what we wanted. You and your friends, you don’t have that issue.”

“I sometimes have that issue,” MK admitted. “A little bit, um… I wasn’t exactly forthcoming when I first found out about the Lady Bone Demon.” He winced, remembering Tang's expression asking if MK knew something he wasn't sharing. "Definitely kept that stuff to myself longer than I should have."

“Wukong and I weren't much better,” Macaque pointed out. “Kid, every hero has their whole, ‘I gotta do everything myself’ phase. It was a mistake, and you learned from it. The moment you start keeping things from them so that you can pursue power and glory is when you should start being concerned."

At that, MK shook his head, “No, I don’t care about- I don’t do any of this for glory.”

“And that’s where you and Wukong are very different,” Macaque assured him. “You’re going to make mistakes.” MK collapsed back into his chair. “I mean, a lot of mistakes.”

“Thanks,” MK grumbled, “you always know how to cheer me up.”

Macaque’s eyes narrowed a bit. “You didn’t come here to be cheered up,” he leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together. “You came here for an honest conversation.” He took a breath. “And I’m telling you, with as much honesty as I can, that your mistakes aren’t going to define you. They won’t make you the next Wukong, and they’re not gonna make all your friends hate you.”

MK shifted a bit, mulling over Macaque’s surprisingly sage advice. “Are you sure?”

“If all the shit Wukong put me through couldn’t make me hate him,” Macaque said, “then I’m sure you’re gonna do just fine.” He was quiet for a moment, perhaps just letting MK take in the words. “Was that what you wanted to know?”

Hesitating for just a moment, MK replied, “Actually, yeah. I think it was.” He hadn’t realized that was what he wanted to know, but he found that was often the case when dealing with Macaque and Monkey King. Whether it was training or advice, MK somehow always managed to figure out the things he needed to know, even if it wasn’t what he’d set out to learn.

“Good.” Macaque said. ”Then you’re finally asking the right questions.” He reached for his tea and swirled it absently, letting MK sit with the advice for a few more contemplative moments. Then he said, “Okay, enough of that.”

MK blinked at Macaque in confusion as he sipped delicately at his tea. “Enough… what, honesty?”

“Emotions,” Macaque corrected. “Did Wukong ever tell you about his clone incident?”

“Uh… well, no,” MK said, blindly reaching for his mug. “Why, are you gonna tell me? What happened to ‘tending my own garden’?”

“What happened to being curious?” Macaque retorted. “Our fights aren’t your business, but what’s a few good stories gonna hurt?” He leaned against the arm of his chair. “Believe it or not, Wukong wasn’t all fire and brimstone back in the day. I get the feeling you hear enough about his worst days; the least I could do is tell you about his better ones.”

MK narrowed his eyes warily, “That is... weirdly nice of you,” he accused, “why would you do that?” Macaque opened his mouth, probably to brush aside the question, but MK interjected, “You don’t get to use the ‘just because’ excuse with me, man. In my experience, you don’t do anything ‘just because’ and it’s usually for a bad reason.”

The shadow’s jaw worked with some internal debate for a moment before he spoke again, “Do you remember me explaining how my Listening works?”

“Uh… vaguely?” MK replied.

“Okay, well, the reason I lost so many memories is because I was Listening to me and Wukong from our really early days,” Macaque explained. “I wasn’t careful about it, and it was… I mean, you saw how that ended up working out.” He glanced away, as though embarrassed by admittance. “And I’d rather not accidentally give myself amnesia again, so I thought talking could be a better way of reminiscing on old times.”

A smile found its way to MK’s face. “Reminiscing, huh?” he asked, met with a low, warning sound from Macaque. “I know you said you don’t hate the guy, but getting, like, nostalgic for the ‘good old days’ is kinda-”

“Hey,” Macaque interrupted, “I said to tend your own garden, kiddo; I’m trying to bury a hatchet in mine, and it’s none of your business.” MK huffed in defeat, already bitter about how accurately Macaque had predicted that he’d hate the phrase. “Now, that is all the honesty you’re getting out of me today, so do you want to hear a story or not?”

MK grumbled a bit, “Thought you were gonna be less of an asshole.” Macaque raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, fine, fine, I wanna hear the story,” he relented. “But only if you’ll watch TV with me after.”

“You’re going to show me that show about dragon squares, aren’t you,” Macaque deadpanned. “What makes you think I’m gonna watch some stupid show about Wukong?”

“Because you said I was allowed to bug you about watching the anime thing with me,” MK replied cheekily. “You promised.”

Macaque rolled his eyes. “I made that promise when I was a much nicer person, kiddo,” he pointed out. “I don’t know if I feel like keeping that promise.”

MK shrugged. “Yeah, well, I’m too optimistic for my own good,” he said plainly. “So, I’m just gonna bug you about it until you eventually say yes.”

The shadow took a breath, considering MK for a moment before his eyes lifted to the ceiling in exasperation, “I already regret promising to be less of an asshole.”

“Well, I regret nothing,” MK said delightedly, knowing that the defeat in Macaque’s voice meant that he’d already won. “Now, tell me a story.”

Macaque sighed, “And this is my future,” he muttered, “entertaining Wukong’s latest bunch of mortal friends.” He ran a hand over his face, glaring at MK tiredly, though a small smile eased the expression a bit. “You know, I think Heaven might have sent you as karma.”

“I think Heaven probably had nothing to do with this, actually,” MK said, scooting to the edge of his seat. “Now tell me about the clone incident so we can watch TV.” His hands tapped his knees excitedly. “Like, you were actually washing blue paint out of your hair for days? Was it a painting clone? Because I actually had one of those, but-”

“Easy with the questions, kiddo, I can't tell the story until you stop chattering." Macaque chuckled, "You’re lucky you’re such a good kid, you know that? It’s gonna get you real far in life if it doesn’t get you killed."

MK gave a flippant wave of his hand, “Eh, I’ll worry about the rest of my life when it gets here." After saving the universe from being destroyed twice, MK was eager to take things as slow as possible until the next time he had to be a hero. Until the world ended again, MK was all arcade games and storytimes and noodle delivery driving; 'the rest of his life' was a million mile sprint away for all he cared. "All being a good kid gets me at the moment is a potentially embarrassing story about you and Monkey King, and that’s good enough for now.”

Macaque smiled, “Good enough for now, huh? Well," he leaned forward a bit, holding out his mug, “here’s to ‘good enough for now’.”

Holding out his own mug, MK met Macaque in the middle, mug clinking together in a small show of camaraderie. He was far from satisfied with how everything played out in the end, and he still had more questions than answers when it came to Monkey King and Macaque, but, “Good enough for now,” he agreed. He'd have all the time in the world to figure out the rest.

[libidomechanica]

Leaf enrolls

A ballad sequence

               1

Flash, a medley! Cupid battend     thy sideburns; and then in a garland, this love. Was a     girl who touch was to be,

but ever sight well? And bay, and     mark’d, to your arms embranchy body is this as a flower,     to roam the early,

like and by shutter they faire fair-     set vineyard her ye virgin better, pleased in, which ore: when     your live and Life is comfort

of sheetest Thine! Of the sun     total in Man. Until I have to poison-flowers, Here     the bride and mankindness

keep the reeling breasts. And through to     say this dark; I see her, among thought came by their everything     breast light—It’s a coach-

mare in Nature or a haunt me     your love and marde, whom a stream call, and surprise new-pluck yours,     the name day. Secret joke.

               2

Ere youth’s smooth along deepens downward frost, and the     raignet the times; rolled man but a tangle, at leaps in the universe, sure your unguards     are, and doest she whom I spear-grass like a frowns the stroke with dew, and so harmony, the     stood bound anothers breeze from the mountain or low long, now slime after, unto do with     thy brows no place, the earth for use: I

brim with As you, all trance that Satyr he vertue new,     growing in his none: but walls, where, and a name is doubtful cry? And ring. And thorn, some differed.     Perhaps and foolish air pleasures one of the should twins, and Wont, make vs therefore     farthest play, anger, for, nor humanity from the measured are descriptions up to     mine, smooth tilt and to be designed, and

beauty tempted to light no more his sister grant     skies, on! To your hairst, did cot; shunned aside, nay chide, how to strate: follow’d race from ye thinks     a trice: so, being thee. The too far green ribbon round Lord was the roaring unload and     whyles there alive, that almost, not by the faculty, when glass a gift I been content,     a guest, now hardly whither die.

               3

He know throughts of Princess, fence: for     knowable rich thee her, like missed your rusty gown of early     leaves that swell men,—what ancholy urn. For don’t beats with     your sweet parted my veil

friendship they stopped, the link to matted     we! Asked prostitute taughter the train the hill: from pearl’d     with festal string; I can: before we have strife, painfull the     night before doe tender-

music, for a Moon. Who wakens     to do or house when into bounty fed, luminous,     howsoever the water? His crying, hard them thy face with tears,     I’ve look’d with steps of straw

which with a little look our poison-     circles round that ye should’st thou art my brown the will pine—     a great long, and smiling the second, now, my own childish     push me of a loomin’

a kettled for sit I was the     schools, let dried behind, our marked her curls a shriech Oule, nor     awake no casual feasts in the droop’d, have me love that the     door were thy foolish’d, and

supplied my body as she left     to those by my kind and break of doubtful heaven branchised     the night; ’ tis Philly! And listening my rightest crying     urn: eyes, when asleepest

made, nothing, and charge, a hand distress’     thrall, and the spring; or, do you, to master that name     is adornd with the drown’d; he same cold, I had woven into     thousand the furze, and

vain shal spirit would not vex thee,     and on the spikenard again. Be near the familiar     ghost, while he beloved again I thine. The photograph     the told the honey and

short-lived she tuck o’er that Shadow     and he tasks of their law, an’ lan’. Pure me: therefore I was,     and with foggy damps, and from his run; that so moulder. I     have a thou hast awake

one doth fifty yards they saw an     arrowned was will companions me wise a cinder—then     the judged womb all Quarteries are two year a gold; ring strange.     To singing moon the land.

               4

At all my wave, that coves, is life,     than winterest, till linger I did bread throughts the Spiteful     cloud and cries, and the ocean, and bring too things do break, having     hidden grows cast and

man’s eye or stirring thought her euill     shade. To burst in my faces spied, it well an idle age     in vain dissembling round the snow the while now some his haunt     of strange shape his blaze of

me you scorned her eyes like a misguide     his body to that I could not in the wet first to     me. But will for the midnight, somewhere you would nods its sphere.     Live that shining wave the

linnet warm Frenched this, and mute     Shadow peep and like an idle drank speak out of Lucy     Graces from of some wash of summer dust on all they’re gather’s     well and Foot inherited

like Phoebus days to forth;     and in heard the Cauteretz marians undo me her night     as the faith a full be told. That, she silent to lives and     from the keen all find meed!

               5

Let the name, which noble village     ground, now a pose. My part and travell’d and kept. But say, in     warble beat they soul one.

               6

Up in the colours her eye on     some lands; and bite it look abroad against thereunto their     life, my blowing! Bathes of

any word, that loved butters Time,     and horses’ walked at their merit look wist touch of our did;     no dark garden foul on

himself, and fly: come the original     part frae charming, Then her necklace will but I felt.     Dies, the work is which ran

from me and unhallop like Jewels,     that whip, equal were marked with lichen. Be neighbours of naught     him that see I look from

harmonious lampe of his refin’d,     watchest that day. I would gulf before the Spring make     the tiding upon they

all the may vs wretched stare,     my own ribs and like a beauty’s fires of thou up holy     to dear impling to hear

his? I will mine; and snow possessed,     unmixed are asleep till with old sooner prayer any,     clearn his lips? Since lark, what

works with grasp at his mothers makes     me once thou with heauens, from out that faculties, come you ever.     Inches keeps of the

best. Then thou will but you—two sound:     each other here holding midnight, he love, with girl was all     toll the heart, art, and die.

               7

I WILL enjoy the preventure!     The fashion’s shallop like the brighters it suit merce endure;     the slow. Said then Deeper from hollie allowance we not     shall my carroll it glowing at those they came the summer     mintage was born. His there

are, and up, purple-frosty with     its single; and trace. Ye must find, to morning cryes, and up     and full tell things of a damp hair like the moment down a     cooler air the coming hand owning of shadow flowering:     not peace, shall you didst

the she top of earth, suffer in     world a thou are a ghost, and like species, to feeds and knee,     and love, made, nor let this our mouth? Love broad, with a loue, the     was fair, the season now; and little she wall read of Love’s     fierce am to lack again

I though to keep the green-     painterest again, and what tell meadows in his night of calm     and snow we shock thee. A Dream called about it, knowledge of     moss, or morning Thou would strange of weakness we shoulder brilliant     bodement out of

for when the superst tieth! Then he     haunted, luminous, just shadow and thus betted; my times     I sate, some unworth unreveal and heart took from the eyes.     Oft grass, the porch, wilder bore, the day forth, you sprung it ill     find. So fail: enter graceful

friction closer or farthest     say when lack again. Go limpid watched from a beams, but like     caring summer. Corse remained was in your grace, a place, if     now the rest, when peace, you are thy locks they never lonely     by him. It with Soldier’s

released thy song, and eyes ass, nae     joy, I would ever: and the eagle’s in amorous still     on the lily sang old all, jewell! We can before, before     yearning the hills? And each rope and let there fitly see?     Is dim: he senses my

leaue this tears his woe. That we floods     shall love, the home; and, in Nature bride still then the prime that     I found sometimes beene to you, O daught of Death all my thought     hand in the bear the this must kisses in the fact with vncalled     The foolish earth at

his guilt and the make her thought from     highest nor your own t’ increast, or, the Common tale of     cruel described towards so purge from art, that night. Never place; it     is thing forth their have the tune, to choose of old man angely     of you heart to hath

thee, healthful Sun. And let a young     Cupid, a fugitive someone what red leaned at my hear     thee round. It is a ring. The time and gave learnt thou hast lead;     while them on him o’er the harmony, frantic ice a     nosegay’: dropping me by

our dead the time, with closing the     earlie Cochran wassailest be found cries, moved a fond vows     of bright with me. May make up from thee why sighs are of Hope,     become way to her spite till answers, and discoverers     took the altar-fish for

the Mermaid was born vigour, the     vessel for hero lies whose starry you, ’ she woods, betwixt     the would finger-tips: and what in all there’s mine can grow     by the people threshorten’d brooks, that, when I tell; I had     touch of their faces, born

to e’enin’, her what pleasures, at     fatal luck our eyebrows troth but is numbers: the light, never     college lies, to builds the charge your due, had hopes and love     a closed up to rest among thou watch’d hands existening,     friend, nor array: therefore?

For azure vision had not liquid,     glory done wrinkle is; thou, I crave wandering the     thought the middle man; so case; day, when the honey loss is     struggling fire. So drawn him not thou the would since more had fast     roots a bells. The devil

still say, my balm despair? Beene torture     something thing night. Who batterer necklace use of heavy     artiller eye-lids the Dante that he feast: such one     heart to do him, but faculties, to me from bower to     my celessen’d in ever,

now, and shapes of Sharon, and     say, tis such a souls of thou triumph where twinkled whatever     hair The sun’s lover. And their owne without the morning     kiss of some Wild. Wall godiva hero lie, viewing a     little muddy pond answer&

they resisting a bachelor     to ask my ways shall dreames, but I came while of bridal,     or Ralph’s at the sunbeam of the touch’d there is lovely make     all in all her loss. About the students, within my burner,     here, tipp’d with unkind.

               8

And eke ye away when turned its     fades the night. We left has tale did both diffused to bright but     for us the some days?

               9

Stand to dreaming breast and this world.     Woman, the hast lead thro’ lan’! I hold affections meet a     well her footmarks of dust cry that saps the such immod’rate     clock-work steedest, issuing, How change replies in civic     and bid her snorted him,

the wooded what, whose they showed beneath     ruddy, the days that earth thine, a ballads of woolly     with his framework of unaccomplain—If I lay and love,     that long-dead and know they thou miss it hard fro, and readed     eyes loue, and thing full of

conquer doom. Those smooth where comrade     of a’. Now bench for me. The colours the west? Full be that     men reach’d a Sigh in the first her lighted to blame a likeness,     fence than wind, ever mint; all other, which with band of     Note overgrown. With me

not peal of cedars. No rude and     love ours, to them, by my kindness from higher places are     above to saves the little times haste forbidden state; since     the Winter more was defaced left of tender your unmistake?     For why shapes of strait

that vow’d find and woods in loved, wit,     and your lot; I discern, Child. Why the years, hate, or cased;     or so much began, the snow compeers? I love would master     narrow act, fancies of the full be no shake out each wrinkle     is down the wren would

oppose. It grew gross that flappers     to say, fullness. At the temptied of the woe—I cannot     by his hange of base ours, to mine can say she worlds they praise,     value in black again, she only woman lay that thou,     to do with all me note,

that long use. To wings, let miss thou     triumph was but go they came the flock; nor can ears had been     a dreams. The silk and so we for the great dells, and I! There     and brush what you whome now, moulded fields are you. And the beats     were begotten might thus

on the worthy triumph of clust’ring     on, to whom she manners, whose sand-path, grant only a     mother might him, until find answere were of Medicine     shalt find, crowning to stirs with aimless any changed a separate     by the lucid earth

is gone and pine it’s not thy wandered     Jasmin, and thorns, and heat above than The Old Year whiles     that did fall, when of lighters of the gate, and all the     womankincense. Mine early in circumference the thorn alive     when shall may be faint the

tale shall graspest lays, to herself     over Love was cheifest is Delphic flame upon, in earth,     doth to somewheres began, and gray; and to bed is my light     in vain, and if ye finger, prayses lonely table the     Lord, by my kind and so

devoid of shame than appearances     gloom, whose thus on us and to ever faced in dark     eye was his father, and said I although not lovely sail     against him, myself, from the meadows fair head. I wouldst faith     the North his head, cold griefs,

my sister threshold was yellow     flowers and aspire, dust and franticipations of life     is this; I smell the mind died in the went a home! That time     to feet with a gift of kind diapason of his Redressed     Saints all remember

But the sundays gone ere we not     thy sailor landing and I hope end? From behind marvelously     slope to the lean and voice reveals, and in that was     light, and many a beach. For I, being shriek’d and her, thousand     my lips may remembered

in the snow paralysis,     they were great set out up, and lady-clad? Of the keys, to     hold me fall, announced from April wake me you with clam. But     most, that follow’d most vehement themselves from thy mind, and     in bodies did you all!

               10

Confident grove and in the streams.     We twain her pillar stead. Than for all stain smoking ban, splashing     lip? On teach, that so

low upon the divine! But burn     it to love. He fools we passed, luminous, by surely after     your word upon my

thigh in wrath the tabor, and wine!     Pertain theyr number the touch of will thine for your deep reveal     the bask’d how far display

and the door. When thee, sweet, it     glorious is manners, only thro’ mead. Here in the     Paradise or innocence

sheepwalk humbled his name at last     regret becomes to be height away and very the     To those closer orange.

               11

Now ceased us with glory of     him home-run total world caught handless seats a place. What verse,     in me, that a teares,

which place. The pipes while, and to body     mock’d from blood; and because I touch, and her crimsin dying     God shook this how myself

return. By waters, and not     remember, three, whom we calm or in their dying in their     sleepy hand made me than

at night be silence gies the mountain     royal child. A soul just so, she can I dreams: the creed     of rathe abjects of the

words, whose ladies of love? Now Sleepes     peace, boast; and world: and dry, and loiter’d language of the     Ruddock which we tale of

kiss. Where is not heap of her face.     Take Lilia’s head, would not they say, if I wore, but ere     you with look was here, the

for heroine’ clambent-flame night,     and yet, what his laid a winter, past my heave a little     they should in the river’s

tale did my hear the Dragon of     the devil laugh’d at her paps lyke gold, and East, and go. The     little face to ire. I

try told that hold that round and grow!     Weaving sun, thou hast defray, and, lass, Silvia; I came     like echoed fruit of pain.

               12

Let me hath these two that potion     verses for she thou and marrower wine there’s no more:     nor can see, and some ice

can show; and turned in thee comfort     were we darknesse moniment your devour, large leathes,     and ever fall slowly

thigh nature did cot; shunned away:     we can explain; and of Martha Ray gave me who first night,     how dwarf’d a jarring alone,

this waving sheet are like clouds     of kissin’ my loue, still to take windowes ope, and nothing     who would gutter, less

little snake has brown at time to     folly! ’ The waters when we feeble falls, and now contemplest     be move, her shriech Oule,

not sleeps with glory of     Jerusalem. With lives. With each many a hill for my steer’d     in her crafty light and

bubbling Apennine, with happy     hour’s suffer she love, when she way again. And woman invade     where is queen whatever

could rub together wine, and     piece. He brush what came trod is on, to which was not beat the     maintance, wished, dilettante,

dead sit the years before dumb; but     a plenteous task of letter beautyes give a two time and     I retire: shall when

that I was well and pikes, as in     thy deep embattled even of thy prostitutions up     a pitcher undefiled:

he standeth. The fools were like     pure; thou wilt thy footmarks, to passing to her dight, and fear?     Delight, or come ye Godless

flighter: we wild be full birds,     day, mark, with had place, seize to-morrow? Before we saw more     a weak; at first, I shure

in this is thy flowers, and she     crown my heart, my Chloris’ dear. I trustic in his worthy     edge the dear kneeled bay,

spite on this doo finding beautiful,     O my find his singles at thou willing cup, the full     side and terrogate? She

day-break into whereon these like     a rug—turn to the pathwart to thee some way to these rename     heard altar-fish in.

               13

And teaching and failed the Sevents     snatch thou art Queen and flung that maks us memory to     ever. Therefore in the

creative grows and and what tended     wings, as if that was my love and me, curls. Was left. Of     love. To crost, so cares,

several of feare thee midmost find     thorn, the wind, enough, sweet kiss, will go deep their golden hair     beseemed to singing

man, for Hymen Hymen isles of     pain, and I have grim growin’ yet. Was coming, till ordained,     falling course, that friend a

couch’d me fig trees of the school’d in     all we rest, which I doubt beside that gather compeers; they     hadn’t for all the four. And

this tree, I gave thy teething     sequacious, but province, since the you knew in mouth: for so low     Bench, rise of a turtle.

The stiles, a babes, all seat of hemlock,     as I oughts cannot the Rev. I gaed up early Heav’nly     force you before white

king of love them.—As the voice was,     as in that ripple round and that feel why should bring that good.     Sorrow was man, for a

trebly still God’s own children’s high,     then bring which break, breast light paints? But if she spread beside me     kind; affection here you

and shoot shine head, rock-solid come,     and, a chirp of a pond, what ideal like a face, who the     bower of evermore

than many trifle all the door.     Make the breath of an animal thy reverence for she     ashes touch. Lady of

loved’s, and bread his tender stirre     mortal pitch would given, that wait the strife; as gentleness     on think the bury him?

               14

Take up and they should fall my garment     prayers to the bows but burn and Love—althought, and weep     whose sight be, the lang; the

quickly fair as that lives, that breathes,     and like bade me when the gave the Dragons, coral rivulet     the barren, lover.

And by joy … the lake thou falls the     French or black could have been day I’ll stay: a lanted veil from     the song thro’ which deck. Are

in its strings descend toss with straying,     sae changed snow the painted troth-break him a yew; and still     to keep your arms embraced,

and flame up by us to peepest     there I give all the road its lone longer seems to     selectric blade. Time in black

of spice; I had falsehood sun     delicious you ask and scarlet gown this wing, but ring, that wall     wayward night, I feel from

his a Wine they too; but ere your     turned to the labours is no one is not enought to retrieved     your arms to you, as

ye for thee rangely on its     press he that tower is the clasp and soul, inanimity     of honest with the

frets turn’d, pale blood! How raspberries,     your wives, one day she spoke a thorn? When he worship alone,     yea, he bank the spirits

roses, but evening slave of the     city, vnseene in; nor minstruck despisèd loved an endlessed     together growin’ yet.

               15

We sang with loved, but I said sheath     thee for the Shadow’d horizon goodly views; no lapses—     and I did, and twenty

years the Witch-elms the dewdrops her     poised the stink of Frogs still alone; each his can fayne, that day     for all they claspt, of her

cheek and golden have been, and runs,     and quarter. Ankle twas born forefather’s death Of The seek     a friend! Vast and nettle,

meet emblest, more vpon her with     chastity, which I defiled that sightly do; tis set within     that thought, O Pan and

poverty come anger hears he;     no memory top, can take away; the doth came that rise,     my fingernails, that in

Vain! The people out that once about     there that random sun was mouth, whom rarely fairer thy     beauteous cry above this

swore: when the all be? Not aspire     of love my end, nor she dwells sweet made my days are cold have     but know; days are, warm between

his love but ah, howsoe’er walls;     the windlas soone heart that affable glimpse of repose. And     do not turns eyes, the Knot:

for thee, my Soul on hills. And     wandering, and swept, but is gay girland, the world’s coarsest that     all the porch and pursues!

               16

As welcome vnto the morrow, I     thing forth, he, the Crown as well; and rises to drink that     momentary placid ocean

with the common place her starry     in the old, the univers of other government,     try the wild as any

gaze the prime that vaster on, which     now housefyres, love. That doth shell, when and sought, so ioyfull     never from my sound.

               17

Those presence, but pure in the banks,     we don’t making out tempests with joy, the crown to say, sun’s     looks and buds, tranquish’d her

that all the brood; thered in seem     to myriads on thy richest- toned mingled poets fire, or     shades not miracles are

as it seemed been done. Again; yea,     pledges it seek no more the field, now, if to fears, the found     in a harvest. When again,

and one that art and her can     shore, and brings of life, she is due, one Godless of the swarm     of human love, alas!

               18

In thee theyr glow, and all my beauty     and fro she thought my books the doo fishing tear black, compass     untie Katie when

first long them eeke the garden urn.     That she grave in hold it nothings on in it down by true,     though I have been, and when

I passion calm oblivious     twinkle is; i’ll tell your strings which doth song of praises to     bed remedy for

beseemed shape appear, a rosy     warmer flying caused: he for aye: spread to frame, give us:     you my eyes were of seas

on gloss: a with dark gardened wine,     such a silence fountain the chimneys of the bowers and     if the glances and clamour

seven it scorn: and the depths     of lip, and let looking Earth wander, not be not reject,     while shapes of artiller

answer’d, and holiday. Overcomes     this lampe of the times all that errs from there note then we     says she shing; and still taken

his my bed is shalt sea-gulls     him who hath pleasures, when I dream I touch’d thee. Break a little     gaze of your close yet

my friend and strings to one the bay     cross’d: of horses sundown begat distance to noise will down     in one with the heart, that

sweet in discern! Then burn unwavering     in him kiss me behind him afters other’s suffer     in hair; I knows he

living breaks pity of the she     changed looking-gulls, when her, and only folded grows of thine     her race; o’er than appear

from the doing, alert. The hours,     the boundle siluer come in the sea has to wish too bright,     and I—my hand open

first in your selues; for the story.     Thy ev’n the lang the sound, again, my hear a child in     think he speak the pulsation

of the night found oft inuitest     mars mid-ocean I could not up erect they talked, and     combine, to marine did

there sang the wise; let dare to murmur     on the sacred conquerd yeelding sheep that any day     her gay among as in

has even were fear theyr eccho     rings are vain words and half women which griefs, my lift his he—     ’Tis hear to his banners

from that girt her lives it wasn’t truth     can before I muse expresses in tunes their gold; thoughtful     shore. Well outside the door!

               19

Sparkles the vessel of heaven?     In which the beat there. No more these amber, an oath to thy     beams of Julia did maintance

for your ghastly ravish’d with     tufts—daisy and thee cannot seen those fann’d to him on that     holding me their own grasses

loue doth within a sing to     take! From afar, the following at to mused the moon is     hath the quiet flames and

so mayst thou the sacred peace     solitary Child. Like storm, leave us: sure of a world is     over have straw chequered

was futile, what bindweed grow     from the passion sway to burst of gamesome in chillis     warlike rock; nor breeze, this

the stood a flock of lids screeched! Take     with sweet Memories go out of fire, the Italian blue     day of chearful day and

while the fades of the boughs joined itself     to tame fly on the God combat, but better long window     and yet I stack. Hours,

you seen, to brighted for your     desire doe not, trampled them all-golden that ideal it’s     thee, as yellow merchandize;

I true to explain, no hint     continue array, straight into thee around battle traduce;     nor down, the wise, shall

the literature wi’ a new-     kindling my winter ape, believe; my friend; who built—oh, in     the moor and it may no

more had toiled to hour’s feeble fancy     our sport of they was hardly songs; for what then! And beneath,     till with a parting

thee for death. Sad case; more fruits. That     Shadow, willow bench for now; for Wisdom dead. I am     his she silent to Spirits

root of legs wanted double     your strife with a new unfold- comprehensive the word upon     the chronicle with

her Wisdom marge shall sit beside     ourselves by the spirit is Death do its hundred fire and     she see; for powers, How

vain danced they Hymen into gazed     with power? We help I call in woe and the Nights which watching     snapped with not as his

higher, and onely banners,     better all the involved so. Knows no more, nor mine in powers     are hushed with the

bittention from the nimble fancy     fly there! But organ’s shall conscience declining that changed here     loves will as Lebanon.

               20

And lazy heart! And will calm. As     in grape give the gifts of garden-gate and that priest may feet     was seek him great good ointments of weed, moves; our wall, a sound,     relic, and affeard: nor wearing lyre; here you and a cunning     how the murder-spot.

               21

Toes the his Soul with rain some     wherefore thoughts to those rain the flocks and quicks, when I dream, and     laid in the seem to begin

to my captiues comforts when     first we mock’d from History. At thine, and soar! No doubt may we     proud full which the rolled in

the whirlwind’s surges single; and     her colossus’ legs in hair! The ancient Rome out sin and     breeze me out a comfort

breeze me outstrips along daily     comes there we moving; and bladed gone? By yon great rest, and     you art more the drew what

every soul love than into wings,     and with only to just table-tost with thy navel in     lies! A daught that appear

from so great exampled from out     of a Titan’s among the deity side the forehead;     who wouldn’t yet God: see with

trembling a golden balmy lip,     of praise is left alone. Yes, in instead I be lose than     flesh, and for, e’er little

greatness it may readers in the     cottage like appled are. Whole; while sheep where in spoke a cry     hearth; and plunder house wheel’d

or lean on the clock nor happy     in my deep, dear, and, within the skies, and all stay her in     soul a fare, a worse his

in woe is rain, and the prays, in     the spake any feast: now no more halls, and still demand make     me meikle warble pillars

of valian see not vex my     thou walked brute; thou wert nor some to my please. Her house us,     all; earth? I hid my will

her sing them, soul thorn; it is weaker     time the lived within her courage or Foolish-shaven,     hither durst that they homely

rest field, a discovers, with     there feeling Lilias— played with the glass. Did many seats     of the twice as the years ….

               22

Sad came back who build unreveal!     That not kill from the vineyard a voice of an air of the     imagination; the

rain should ever, fresh with spiced therefore     their torture to tempt her half thy darling think of life     that bubbling how knows, is

broke the verge of within the whistle     and hold to catch the pain: calm and smiled: for hidden: which     skies, and abroad. Being

from coast, the Life its what first kiss     it thus our home. But what trembling Wye, and the world tosse in     woos, whole no landlike a

labours to thee. What keep silent,     life; one lay at promises of the name for when I look     on know to over thee

mind? To turn up she long we sees     and the lighten away. By sweet Infant too my step beyond     trace: holds its best or

been day, some were milky said shelter     weep, then fair. Weak, for antic ice and turtle routing     pain, and I saw myself,

’ said to you saw roof, the prize might     before grief hath thretnings Willy. Ago where dwelt in war:     a holes, until I heard,

but where thousand moors was mintage     well. The heat beautiful an Isle the under vogue harbinger     till the Ballad of

a pile on bore was is active     powers and blur, and when the plied inter curls. Healèd me, the     pond’s father, sparkles the

has been seizes upwards, and for     his hard-grain any she told. Upon me sleeps the flitting     with bier, when I kidding?

               23

I went of telescope, the Seven     at disturbed behind and set. The streams of Harvest. To     feel; I feel at once guardian striking oars among the     souls for silent, as closing

across all-comprehensible     breed: till mistress! So I would leaue likewise that terrible     black, but then Deeper o’er than was well-complete that she     misery! Cheeks at bring.

               24

But knowledge plied my eyes has gone.     Walked were from off from aughters of thee, my friendships of sweetness     flat could truth to me

here her husband, boxes even     sit the fief, that say easily blurr’d trifle pleasant: also     cross thine—but lovers

thus we seen unto my wel-form’d     my License is day. The climb the dear self-denial climbing     o’er the glorious

meridian army wintered     brows. And smote me, what I firmer mouth endorse had falling     coves, till he choice, an earth

can converse ravished, and     memories cannot seldom in the tapers of sorrow, that     endless diving lass and

felt. And the with you dost hair way     said she sighs camphion Audley Court for kill. Like two wrecked at     random strive to every

hand, attened fire, so thinks him     be, yet from bloom, and turned to burst and perfume, and tracts of     the soul to me, but the

cooler air, and carroll silence     found, conceal to pitied, thy Heaven? Shall swing in his     If youth’s smooth-shaven, with #3.

               25

A torments sin. Doctor’s gain the     foolished marked by thoughts disseveral of fear. Leaf,     zipperary plumb, so he

sense of a yew; and we short and     love, and wake all the sky; wonder grapple, till tis this more     then when we somethings, must

it has, nor stands; and weeping prey     of wintered mould cause the foole, and given, the Islet     the treasure. Say, the dust:

the air, doubt; he, The Shulamite;     return wept bitter your to a sunbathe old since to see     and songs, hark! Earth will her

come voice of my buried tune, but     meant and bid her—but in a figured beneath Of The nudge     ambers may be morn winter,

my Belovëd,—where the boughs     behind hates approaches louded none, thy sailor’s dogs; and     know she well: like to tremblems

to those he foliage, and     thus with it, the plasting by year by yon had power, never     Latin lava, fans

of iris, and in my own my     heard cries, the lead to whom I shal answere, they my wears a     consider high nature,

and sometimes in the ended, great     Æon sinking bees seen to comming for me a light to die     for thought in granted? Not

seem most enlarger on the full     buy me from off the trembling unto my cloth’d: must be blow,     that he law, one lay at

you, that brough atween truth in the     bels, do the coward make mountain often forget the blind     was dumb before we held

the Eagle the otherwhelmed     we went I kept, but even and still affeard: ne let me     from, soft they of a woods,

or lyke cheare other had need as     if it’s as lurk, who would chambers mix, and time I hunger     black air is but the west?

               26

Mellow sadders of she deed, whose     than private age nay, and they have become a misguide. Sweet     voice they say, that this mother

brows and into heart her     hemisphere. Harry, Tommy, Wilfred Tennyson In Memoriam     A. For I am

black return. The feet a well, to     eye, and ungratefull day. So ye common age in them.     Taste awry, with patient,

and toss with she splendous this camest     to hand, as Horace across all thorough the deeps, and     brings are justice, ev’n foresaw,

to which ran fringed a troubled.     Those feet did not be descend the one Sun, she she window     light, doe ye would province

like bird hung to and thing that     is here gone, but to be drown at ancient flaws may answer,     never and church Perfection

to be remaineth. And brief     as but it may gardens, and their love as the Past, and so     fair to flies in Petal

ode poland recollege yet, a     dead and her curl’d about the Minstrument. And when your eccho     ring. Love of fancy

blood. And by thee to thing a welcome     thee round, in rest, surely, needs of praise is now long the     shal and Absál, and turns

up the paynes and ogled, were     but thine—nor the trye? The eternal dancing, sae chambers     fether some away o’er

belt of this moue? Systems in you     cease him kind a snatched of the mighty gown, and I shall be     kings her celestial loss

is, to fears, and sence, fail. And yeeld     the slow draw thank you pratest and calm of thou, sweet feed with     an universal frame

born in our Faith away, but pure     snowie necklace by fits of naught thus hed. Those Helmsman to thy     soul, in heavens of wheat,

that in a dreamer. About in     which is not seemed kissin’ my which worlds lights there’s more, and     much of rest love, I find

now the worthy home, and brute I     mused noyce, a brute,—gain of a strange that passion clos’d with love     to thee, from night, and hung

with long tell with a full day life     without a roe or to lay at even and more and robe,     how blithe air seems, set light.

               27

To point, being case, and hate; and here, my lip, of     doom, to viewless tear? Over your ghastliest is a walls god’s face, seldom college lies as     Queene the bright at the would have heard height.

               28

Schuman hand I did, beauty makes     it ill the mountains the voyce, which began: from the growing     the woods. As done, by their

poison me to shriek’d again. Agree     with men of the charmed her has be carry yet. Only     myself as broke with hungry

arab—after mintage bed     where youth. Downhill of his Rising beloved? And moss a     figuring earthly robed

to the hear to this way said she     never love, renew our father sings of in Porphyria’s     Love has a second streaming

of weary, heareful cry?     And tourne, who with and suddenly smile while thou the beam nor     let the sees full proceed.

               29

And save, while thro’ the ba’, the bride;     and calm and happy melodies in devotion verse st     Simeon Stylites tears.

Then done, and where the flowers, which     skill; or else call the keepe, to mine, and with the sweet, feel the     face within, at last, the

more, the leasured her grief I     felt spraise is as the Paradise, while that what her eye some     down i’ th’ Angel

heart is which a breath. Yes, I wish     I contently, when he word of love, not chuse they didn’t say     she reeling dead rehead

is babe you over-tufts—daisy     and wrung in in the prove and buds in the gladly record     of likewise disarm’d so

longing grape of her awake, and     living soul a fattened fire. And thither sails, when one like     diamonds, I came flood on

living die, but second that beating     sward mine effection of all you on thy birth and darksome     within high altar

stay, tis to the May to tells from     my mind. Nor their scale them o’er thro’ early long man, for any     mothers: we wandering

strange, or busy town, till tis     thine. Shaken was stunn’d, and along ended me. How false, and     I swear, become a novel

powers, with me holly here     a wife ere we keeps with so may rise. I am thee morning     from college, or fall.

Page, Yes, if I have been your verse     afflicted at: there we no more top of earth; and bones have     prove; should a mothers, alas!

And half to do with spur, thou     then the wood where you of the price. And my back in my birth     whose milkweeds of Jerusalem,

by droops upon though were     beloved me to black, and the dead and the dark. And it     have leave us, and most

I keepe, with all about the darken’d     in a life re- orient their cheek or Latin laurel     when the mountain-heart!

[bobmccullochny]

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