#no matter how wise or brave he was. no matter how many times he saved Arthur’s life.

[sneakyboymerlin]

Merlin is kind of like a dog to Arthur. I mean this in all of the good and all of the bad ways.

[madwomansapologist]

i love everybody because i love you

Meet Kind!Druid!Tav | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: It doesn't matter what their first impressions of you were, they certainly did not expect you to be so important in their lifes. And as the days passes, each one of your companions need to understand a simple fact: they love you. They all love you.

warnings: a sequel to that (you don't need to read if you don't want to). song "strawberry blond". companions (lae'zel, halsin) x druid!tav. background cast (alfira, mirkon, scratch, owlbear, shadowheart, astarion, wyll, mizora, karlach, minthara). lae'zel love language is pressing a dagger against your throat. i accidentaly made her somewhat a stalker?? there is a high chance minthara doesn't sound like her because i killed her like two onversations in. if you discover which animated character is my biggest inspiration for this tav i will give you a reward.

In a harsh world, people are supossed to shield themselfs from even the possibility of danger. Is the only rational response to the ambiguity of chaos. What those who crave to survive must learn, what those who deserve to survive must do.

You get stronger, so you won't feel pain. Because to feel pain is to remind your soul that one day your body will perish. To get stronger is to forget about the eventual end. Is to get protected from death itself, even if as just a concept.

When not even death can catch you, you're free. When you have nothing to love, nothing to care about, you are free. That's real strength. To be invulnerable. To have nothing to lose, no one close enough to ever hurt you.

Lae'zel lost the count on how many times you bleed. How many times you fell. Burned, drowned, exhausted in pain. Arrows crossed your chest, swords cut your legs, calloused hands stopped you from breathing.

You're somewhat good at hiding it. How much things can hurt you. When someone disrespect one of your companions, when people blame you for their fates, when you did everything you could and it wasn't enough. It hurts you in a different, worst way. She can see it on your face.

Maybe you could've earned a good end, if the world worked in a different way. A peaceful life, one fit for those who don't aspire greatness. But Lae'zel knew it was only a matter of time until the tadpole took control. She felt it on herself. Saw it on you.

No one would save her, no one would save any of you, but perhaps Lae'zel could. It was an merciful act. To end you first. You failed as a leader, but you tried. Then she'll go to the others, knowing she's brave enough to kill herself after.

She thought you had surrendered yourself to her. That you had come to the same conclusion. A wise druid, after all. Then Lae'zel felt. The cold thread against the base of her neck. A dagger she didn't saw coming.

"Step back," you ordered, voice unaffected. Lae'zel never heard you like that before. She had a dagger against your throat, but you spoke as if you rule the entire world.

"Chk, you think that tiny blade of yours will stop me from free..."

"What I think doesn't matter, but what I know does." Your eyes burned her skin. "You're stronger, I'm faster. I propose you a bet. If you kill me, go on with your plan. If I kill you, that's it. I won't kill them. I won't kill myself. Even if I can, even if I must. You would've died for nothing, forever ignorant if it was the right thing to do."

Lae'zel saw you barefoot at the Emerald Grove, applauding Alfira as she sang. Crossing the river by jumping from stone to stone, talking to Mirkon as if he wasn't a kid but a dear friend. How many times did Lae'zel found a bed shaped of you on the grass right next to where Scratch and Owlbear slept?

A sacreed deer, whose even blood is ever so sweet, howled like an wolf.

Would you turn into a mindflayer out of... stubbornness? Would you let the rest of your beloved party turn into something utterly disgusting, putting in danger all those people you swore to protect, just to prove a point?

Maybe you would. Maybe you wouldn't.

No one died that night.

You intrigued Lae'zel. Before you were her supposedly defenseless prey, and now you are the object of her curiosity. Lae'zel didn't understand you. And she craved to.

So she kept a close eye on you.

You bleed. All the fucking time. You bleed, and you wept. But everytime someone crushed you down, you rose up. For every tear that fall from your eyes, you made sure to smile. You survive, and you keep on doing it.

Strength and weakness merged in the warrior's mind. She knew what strength is, she can smell weakness from afar. Lae'zel was taught everything she was supossed to know.

But you were never the one to fit in old impervious notions.

Lae'zel saw you end a hyena's suffering without flinching, and you trying to hold on the wind when you were about to fall. She heard you helping a bird decorate its nest, and the breaking of a skull of someone brave enough to maim Shadowheart when she was near you.

You yelled at Astarion as he tried to stop you from helping gnomes. Helped Wyll with herbs for his pain after Mizora's trick. Helped Gale with dinner, putting a smile to the usually frowed wizard's face. Gave Karlach her first hug in years.

She saw your every movement. Lae'zel heard you laughing, saw you dancing, watched as you helped your new friends. Sometimes it felt as if you made white lines so she could follow you. So Lae'zel could see you being good, nice, decent. Being you in a way that showed her that no, you would've never let your companions turn into mindflayers. You were bluffing, and she fell for it.

At some point, it started to ache. Anytime you laugh at some tiefling's story, something inside Lae'zel burned. At night, she could picture your smile on her eyelids. When you call her name during battle, yelling instructions that somewhat always end in victory. When you look at her.

She can still see that fire. That same flame that stopped her from killing you right then and there. But diluted, controlled. And still, just as able of burning her entire soul. You have a fire contained within your gaze, and Lae'zel doesn't mind getting burned.

Maybe you're not that weak. And maybe she's not that strong.

She's not watching you anymore. Observing your every move so she can understand your mind. Not a prey, not a walking question mark. Lae'zel is purelly admiring.

For some, you came as a tempest. Slowly, without announce your intentions, your way of being embraced them.

A few flinched, scared of what that meant about them. That by admitting you're good despite it all means they could be good too. Some welcomed it, scared of what that meant about the world. If you're good despite everything that happened, then others could be too. Others chose not to.

But you stroke Halsin as a thunderstorm, just as quickly and fiercly. In such a dark time, you were a lighthouse. A shining light that blind at first, but embraces and comforts.

The grove was in danger, his life could end at any given moment, a goblin camp separated him from the world he worked so hard to protect. But your party helped him, and it gave Halsin the right amount of hope.

You asked him to stay behind, and he did so. Halsin wouldn't be able to control himself, and you didn't need all that attention. He was hopeful, not an idiot. But when Halsin heard screams from the room beside... Knowing that Minthara was there, Halsin couldn't help himself.

A wizard focused on the goblins. As he held them in place, a cleric made sure to end them. But at the other side of the room, the only other druid he saw in weeks had a dagger deep on her chest.

Minthara had you on your knees, her nails digging on the skin of your chin. A burning tiefling didn't knew a way to react that wouldn't end within that same blade slicing your throat. She waited for an order, an instruction of any kind, and Minthara realized that you were leading the rebels.

"Is that your leader?" Minthara looked at the tiefling. Her eyes were numb, bored even, but her grin was sharp. She forced to blade deeper. "A weak druid, barely able of helding a sword? Are you that desperate?"

You should've cried. You should've beg for mercy. You should've do anything, instead of laughing. Minthara glared at you, sure that you were reduced to a crazy, desperate animal. But when you bit her hand, blood staining your chin, you were more of a beast.

Minthara stumbled, and you pulled the blade she left on your shoulder. Blood ran down your side, but that didn't stopped you from rising up. Halsin don't think anything would've.

"Maybe you're right," you hissed. With her dagger on your left hand, you took your sword from the ground. "I'm not a fighter. I wasn't educate to control the Weave. I can't heal a thing. When I can't do something, I find someone that can. Without their help, I would be dead by now."

Halsin came here to act. To help, protect, kill. But all he could do, just like everyone else in that room, was to watch you. To look at your beaming smile, to see the blood on your teath, not even trying not to get blind by it.

"Why would anyone follow someone that professes to be so weak?" She looked at the wizard, a dead goblin at his feet, her brain thinking of all the ways she could defeat your party. "What can you do that give you the right to rule them?"

Your smile seemed to grow wider. "I can beat the shit out of you."

And beat the shit out of Minthara you did.

With a first impression like that, ain't no mistery why Halsin couldn't do anything but to stay with your party. But to go on with you, deafeting the Shadowcurse and exploring Baldur's Gate. But to see you shine, feel your warmth, and let it pull a string on his heart.

At the end, it didn't matter how it started. It didn't matter how much they fought the thought back. If they lied to themselfs, made you a villain on their minds, welcomed you with open arms.

You have their hearts. Simply as it can be. You have their hearts.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR'S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[bestworstcase]

"There is no victory in strength."

"And Yang was strength."

I wonder if this is some "subtle" foreshadowing for something later?

oh i have some THOUGHTS about this

first: see this post regarding salem's V1 monologue. the key point to keep in mind for this discussion is that she begins by naming several qualities of mankind—strength, wisdom, resourcefulness, passion, and ingenuity—so her concluding statement implies its own inverse: 

"mankind was strong, wise, and resourceful, but he was born into an unforgiving world […] in time, man's passion, resourcefulness, and ingenuity led them to the tools that would help even the odds […] but take heed: there will be no victory in strength," i.e. "victory lies in these other four qualities." 

so what does this have to do with yang?

in V2: yang gets slapped by the paladin prototype, and when blake calls out to her in a panic, ruby stops her: "don't worry! with each hit she gets stronger, and she uses that energy to fight back. that's what makes her special."

in V3: after her disqualification from the tournament, qrow passes on raven's message to yang ("she saved you once, but you shouldn't expect that kindness again") after she tells him she saw her mom ("i- i was in a lot of trouble, took a pretty hard hit"), then follows up with "you're a tough egg, kiddo; shouldn't let this tournament thing get you down."

in V4: tai tells yang that she, like raven, "act[s] like the easiest way to tackle an obstacle is through it: that strength is all that matters in a fight," which he implies is the fatal flaw of raven's that "tore our team apart and […] did a real number on our family," even though "raven was great in so many ways: her strength, her ambition, her dedication." 

in V5: blake describes yang to sun as "[the embodiment of] strength."

also in V5: yang confronts raven in the vault under haven academy and, when raven calls herself strong, snaps back: "oh, shut up! you don't know the first thing about strength! you turn your back on people, you run away when things get hard, you put others in harms way instead of yourself! you might be powerful, but you're not strong."

in V6: blake reassures yang by telling her "adam's strong, but his real power comes from control."

also in V6: adam taunts yang: "moment of truth, yang! do you think you're faster than you were at beacon? …heh. me neither," and after catching his weapon she retorts, "i may not be faster, but i'm smarter." (<- put a pin in this one, it's important.)

in V8: yang falls, blake fails to catch her, and it's the hit she can't come back from—it doesn't make her stronger, it just plunges her into the void to her apparent death.

in V9: when they catch up with yang, she's performing strength ("i said i wasn't done with you yet!") but in reality she's exhausted, barely able to stand. later, blake describes her like this: "you're an extraordinary person. you're always the first to lighten a situation; you act bravely when you're afraid; you do what you say."

ok. 

there are a few threads to unwind here.

first let's unpin what adam says to yang during their final duel: "do you think you're faster than you were at beacon?" not "stronger." not "tougher." faster.

ruby tells blake that strength is what makes yang special. qrow tells yang she's too tough to let one "slip-up" bring her down. her father thinks she relies too much on her strength. before their reunion, blake sees yang as the living personification of strength.

but just as a younger blake was wrong about adam being "justice" or "passion," she's wrong about yang being "strength," and adam is actually—ironically enough—the first character besides yang herself to notice that strength is not what yang is about. he taunts her for not being fast enough. 

speed. agility. not just in the sense that yang is a very nimble combatant, but she's emotionally agile—look at how she handles herself and her feelings during fraught confrontations with blake in V2 or raven in V5. she's a self-described thrill-seeker, but she also worries about being too rootless. her biggest setbacks all come from rushing—and her big wins all come from outmaneuvering her opponents, whether physically or emotionally. she's strong, but strength is not what she is.

keeping that in mind, the second thread to follow is the difference between strength and power. yang tells raven "you might be powerful, but you're not strong." blake tells yang that adam is "strong, but his real power comes from control," from getting into people's heads and making them feel small. when ruby and tai and blake talk about yang's strength (and when blake talks about adam being strong), they mean raw physical strength—but that's not what yang means when she talks about strength. in yang's terms, raw physical strength is just power. her semblance makes her powerful; it doesn't make her strong. 

yang defines strength as the choice to put others ahead of oneself, even and especially when it's hard. 

in the ever after, blake says that yang uplifts others (always the first to lighten a situation), that she's brave, that she has integrity. between V5 and V9, after reconciling with yang and going through the harrowing experience of of fighting adam with her, blake sees the vulnerability behind the brave mask yang puts on for her loved ones. her perception of yang at beacon was colored both by her adam trauma and by the way ruby saw yang as invulnerable, unshakable. since then she's come to see yang as she truly is: caring, brave, and honest. she sees and loves the kind of strength that yang values.

third thread: the really crucial piece is what kind of strength is salem referring to? 

and the answer is that she's talking about power, explicitly in contrast to what she sees as humanity's true strengths: wisdom, resourcefulness, passion, ingenuity, and hope. in V1, salem credits hope as the reason mankind was not wiped out (again) by the grimm and names "passion, resourcefulness, and ingenuity" as the qualities that allowed them to find a way to survive against the odds. then, "nature's wrath in hand, man lit their way through the darkness, and in the shadow's absence came strength, civilization, and most importantly, life."

in this story salem tells about the beginning of the world, strength is one of the fruits of mankind's triumph, something that could only develop after the darkness had been beaten and pushed back. when she gives her warning—"there will be no victory in strength"—she names "your guardians" and "your monuments" explicitly. 

to be precise, she is talking about the maidens ("a guardian is a symbol of comfort"), amity coliseum("it was decided that the tournament would need a stage equal in greatness to that of its competitors. amity coliseum was the culmination of four kingdom's efforts: a technological marvel and a shining symbol of harmony, capable of making the journey to all the kingdoms of remnant"—but note that menagerie is excluded from the vytal festival), and atlas ("the people of mantle needed a sign of a brighter future, and that sign was atlas; a city in the clouds is as bright as it gets").

those things represent ozpin's definition of strength: technological marvels, shining symbols of harmony and comfort, a girl who is "strong, caring, and intelligent" enough to make the people feel safe. and of course outside of these soliloquies, the word salem uses is power—and she warns cinder, twice, in no uncertain terms that power will not make her strong: "it is because of the maiden's power. […] your newfound strength brings with it a crippling weakness" and "you will have the power i promised you, but remember that it comes with a cost."

now back to yang: she and salem share this mindset, this clear delineation between true strength and mere power. salem tries to impress it upon cinder; yang's power blinds her family to her true strength, which blake learns to see clearly as they become partners, and she is placed in juxtaposition with adam, raven, and cinder—all of whom are powerful but not strong. 

and, like salem, the way yang is perceived (that her power is what makes her special, and she thinks physical strength is all that matters in a fight) does not align with how yang sees herself or what she values: yang takes pride in being able to face her fears, speak the truth, put others before herself, and outwit her foes; she likes that blake has never been intimidated by her, and she admires blake's dedication and willingness to forgive. 

salem values wisdom, i.e. experiential knowledge—yang tells her past self that her losses and failures "more than anything are what have shaped me into who i am, showed me how i need to grow." salem values passion—yang is passionate in everything she does and likewise admires the passion she sees in blake. "you know what matters to you." salem values resourcefulness and ingenuity—yang revels in outsmarting people who underestimate her, as they often do, and flat out tells adam that she may not be faster than him, but she is smarter, then throws his weapon to bait him into running right into blake's punch.

yang values courage—salem fomented rebellion against the fucking gods and vowed to keep fighting even after they crushed her like an ant, and rewards cinder for defying her, and disdains lionheart for being a coward. yang values honesty—salem explodes when people lie to her and loathes ozma for his deceit. yang values compassion—salem built her whole rebellion on the premise that no one else should have to suffer as she did. yang values cleverness—salem cultivates spies and meticulously prepares to stack the deck in her favor before making a move.

"the ability to derive strength from hope is undoubtedly mankind's greatest asset," says salem. "even the smallest spark of hope is enough to ignite change."

"look, blind optimism isn't great, but no optimism means we've already lost; we need hope. we need to take risks," says yang. 

aside from blake, all of team rwby repeat salem in some way: weiss is the girl who frees herself from her tower, ruby the idealist who sees how broken the world is and takes it upon herself to fix it, inspiring the world to strive with her. (blake repeats ozma: the warrior who fights for justice, but her journey is the inverse of his: her ideals are corrupted by adam's spite in the beginning and she leaves him behind in pursuit of true justice.) but yang is salem's heart. 

(<- the reversal in how blake sees yang before/after they reunite at haven and defeat adam together is a fractal-ozlem thing, by the way: the inflection point occurs in 6.5 when yang opens up about her flashbacks and blake sees her hands shaking. the maiden's tears restore her prince's sight—yang allows blake to see how scared she is, and blake recognizes how badly yang needs blake to be there for her, to stay.)

WHICH IS HYSTERICAL BECAUSE,

"all this endless death, because something bad happened to you once upon a time? no one gets a fairytale ending! everything i've lost, every person i've lost, is because of you!"

yang is being deliberately provocative here. her intention is to redirect salem's boiling fury from oscar to herself, to protect oscar. she is trying to piss salem off, and while she succeeds in distracting salem from oscar, she completely fails to make salem angry—instead, salem calms down.

why?

the anger and scorn yang throws in salem's face here are completely genuine, but as i said before, yang's emotional agility—her control over her emotions—is unparalleled. she does not "lose her temper" (and on the rare occasion she snaps without meaning to, she reins it in lightning fast). she lets it out. so in this scene, yang makes a calculated choice to yell at salem. to get angry.

now, we've seen her do this once before—and by "this" i mean specifically the choice to get mad enough to verbally explode at somebody—and that was during her last confrontation with raven. 

"oh, shut up! you don't know the first thing about strength! you turn your back on people, you run away when things get hard, you put others in harm's way instead of yourself! you might be powerful, but you're not strong."

i think yang is not quite as in control of her feelings in this scene with raven, because the wounds are very personal and very raw, but nevertheless she is making a deliberate choice to let her anger come out because—again—she's trying to make raven mad. if raven decides she's leaving with the lamp, yang can't actually stop her. she knows that. she also knows raven isn't going to listen to an appeal to join them, so her only real option is to upset raven enough to make her abandon the lamp (and yang) (…again). 

so that's what she does! yang asks questions and needles raven on her answers until raven starts to react emotionally ("i survived because i'm strong enough to do what others won't!"), and yang pounces on that. shut up, you don't know the first thing about strength. she goes right for the throat, attacks the thing at the center of all raven's rationalizations. and raven fucking shatters.

this is what yang tries to do to salem. "why do you keep coming back?" -> "why do YOU!?"—raven says "i'm strong," yang goes "shut up, that's bullshit, no you're not." salem says "why do you keep coming back," yang hears salem playing the victim and goes "shut up, that's bullshit, your suffering isn't special" because she guesses���based on what she's been told about salem, and what she just heard salem say to ozma—that salem has built her sense of self around victimhood in the same way that raven built hers around "being strong."

only. it doesn't work this time.

because salem is just like yang.

just like yang, salem prizes courage and conviction and abhors liars. she makes the same distinction between genuine strength and mere power, and values power not at all. 

she also, just like yang, keeps her anger firmly in check. when salem yells and slams her hands down or flips a table to intimidate someone, or threatens cinder with the hound, or tortured oscar, that is a choice she is making to let her anger out. the one time salem actually loses her temper, she sends everyone else out of the room, waits for the door to close, makes what appears to be a herculean effort to hold it in (<- the air boils), and then explodes all the windows.

this tactic of yang's depends on her opponent not having her level of emotional control. but that isn't the only reason she completely fails to get a rise out of salem; look at salem's reaction:

<- "why do you keep coming back?"—this is genuine fury. teeth bared, crushing oscar's head with her nails digging in behind his ears.

<- "because something bad happened to you once upon a time?"—she's nonplussed. it's not even that salem's too in control of her anger for yang to provoke her, salem is legitimately thrown for a loop by this line of attack. yang misses the mark by such a wide margin that it knocks salem out of her anger altogether. she was seething about ozma sacrificing children for the god to whom he debases himself in blind obedience, why is this child yelling about fairytales. what.

it's telling, i think, that salem does not, in any way, dispute the premise that her own suffering does not justify the suffering she causes or that she is personally responsible for yang's losses. neither of those ideas challenge or threaten salem's self-identity, and in fact the only response she does make is to ask who she took from yang. (<- implicitly conceding that she is responsible for ruining yang's life, or at least that she might be.) 

she and yang are Very Alike.

(this is also why yang has such pronounced paralleling with cinder. by the way. two halves of salem's psyche. fire as hope, fire as wrath.)

anyway

the point of yang vis-a-vis "there will be no victory in strength" is to clarify and articulate the distinction salem makes between power (which neither character values) and strength (which they do, and define as the sum of many virtues). both of them are positioned in counterpoint to ozpin, who trusted only in power and symbols of power (the maidens, amity, atlas), and ruby, who mistakes power for strength and is on a journey that puts both her power (silver eyes) and her strength (hope) to the test.

[raayllum]

Sometimes I think about the gap between the thematic perception of a theme/character versus how they themselves perceive the same thing. There's not too many gaps routinely like this in TDP except for antagonists — Karim comes to mind most notably, in how he earnestly believes he's doing the right thing with no pretense while becoming increasingly hypocritical — nor are all these gaps negative, per se.

But I think about it in regards to Rayllum a lot.

For example, in their actual relationship, they're pretty healthy. Rayla in particular has struggled with open and honest communication, but they're getting there, and we see that Callum has given her an unconditional, rather than an ultimatum base, upon which for her and both of them to build upon. They can teach really good lessons about taking time for yourself so you don't yell at your partner, that you have to work on yourself and a relationship won't fix your problems, that approaching things together is good and that you should support one another, etc etc.

However, thematically — identity wise — they are codependent to a super intense degree, wrapped up and incredibly dependent on the other person's construction of their sense of self (Rayla struggling to be a good person when she's reeling in the S4 fallout, because what does she have to show for it? Callum trying in 4x07 to push them both into their worst roles if the worst comes for him). And this codependency as well as intense desire to protect one another can cause them to make dangerous or self destructive choices in the name of love (or both), like Rayla leaving to protect him and luring Sol Regem away, or Callum doing dark magic and jumping off the Pinnacle.

Thereby, playing with this push and pull, how they exist and perceive themselves vs how they exist in the narrative (and may be seen as other characters) is well, a lot of fun.

This is also true for the "Rayla as Callum's method of destruction and salvation" theme that's been running through every season of the show, with Rayla being the lynchpin to burn down his old life / understandings of self and trust, and usher in new ones.

Callum doesn't see his relationship with Rayla as anything negative, ultimately; she's loving and brave and she saves people, she saved him, and he saves her right back. He'd do anything not to lose her, because that's the Right Thing to do to him, even if it's not automatically 'the right thing' for the rest of the world's safety.

But we know, thanks to their pattern (1x03, 1x04, 2x07, 3x09, general S4, 4x07, general S5, 5x04, 5x08) that it's something that can and has routinely gotten him into trouble in the past, particularly in S2 and S5.

We also know that Rayla fundamentally doesn't see anything wrong with Callum, either. "It doesn't matter" that he did dark magic before (2x07) and it likely won't ultimately matter to her again. She has so much faith and trust in him and his ability to do the impossible that the idea of Aaravos possessing him again in an awful way is downright hard for her to fathom. To her / in her mind, Callum is sweet and nice (even on the rare instances he yells at her), caring and loving and compassionate. And he is all those things, but even when one another's worst traits come out, both have a tendency to forgive and accept.

Now, part of this is because they have a mutual basis, for lack of a better word, of lines the other would never cross that are all conveniently the lines the other could never forgive (Rayla putting Ez at risk on a whim, Callum killing Stella for dark magic ingredients) which just perpetuates this cycle of support, forgiveness, and unconditionality.

Because unconditional love is great — until it's not.

And I think this blend of "they are actively healthy and actively working on being healthier" mixed with the "oh God quarantine them and their codependent shit together elsewhere for the good of society" is why they 1) have the range that they do and 2) the subsequent appeal that they do.

[metvmorqhoses]

Hi! I never read the original trilogy before watching the show, only the crows books, but I agree with a lot of what you’ve said about Alina & Aleksander. It’s obviously a cruel and poorly fitting match. May I ask what kind of person you think would truly match Aleksander better?

So, here is the deal: while the right answer to this question might appear pretty obvious, since pretty much everyone in the fandom agrees that Aleksander deserves an equal, I have to confess that I've always found a big flaw in this otherwise, well, flawless reasoning.

Albeit I obviously agree with everything you said about Alina's (especially show!Alina) lack of... personality (to express it kindly), I think dismissing the general concept of book!Alina, at least in the way she should have been written had her writer any sense of artistic potential, might actually be a dire mistake in the proverbial grand scheme of literary things.

I'll explain.

It's indeed pretty easy to sketch out Aleksander's ideal match. He himself would tell you he'd need a mirror image of who he is in order to finally, finally, feel complete: someone to match him in power, but above all in his understanding of power; someone to match him in immortality, but above all in his experience with it; someone who shares his predatory eagle-view on existence and therefore sharp-sighted enough to look in his same direction and see the same clash of colors in dawns and sunsets turning morality and philosophy unforgiving black.

In short, Aleksander would need someone who shares his unique condition, but most importantly having already lived through each and every single stage of it (the same despair, the same fear, the same loneliness) and therefore being someone who just gets what it means, what it feels, to be him.

There's no doubt in my mind this is what the Darkling dreamt about in the dead of night, what he prayed for before actually finding the Sun Summoner. He prayed she had been out there all along somehow, each year he himself had existed, going through the same centuries of unforgiveness, of solitude, of horror, through the same desperate quest for an equal, for him, just as he had been looking for her, all that time, all along.

I've seen many amazing people believing this very same thing while exploring the possibility in both meta and fanfiction, and I absolutely get where they are coming from. But I'm afraid I have to disagree. As poets say, there's a huge difference between what someone thinks they need and what they actually do need.

Aleksander's perfect match should indeed be his mirror image, but the mirror image of the boy he once was (the boy who was in love with "all the colors one cannot see in the dark", the one who was moved by the mere idea of companionship and intimacy, who was brave enough to risk his own life for the sake of a little girl he had just met), and not of the eternal and lost creature he had become, no matter how shocking the mere notion would be to him.

Aleksander would need a person who reminds him of the unspoiled self that was torn away from him, of his original unmarred idealism, his profound appreciation for living before he became a mere stubborn and bitter habit, of the humanity he was forced to shed. And, above all, Aleksander would need to be able himself to perform this act of saving, protecting and cherishing this twin heart for the sake of that heart of his no one had cared to save in time.

I think seeing himself, his truer, unspoiled self, in his equal and being able to shield her from everything he endured, as a single beam of light in endless oceans of darkness, would be virtually the only thing able to save him in turn, finally giving his life a meaning no war nor time could steal away from him.

And this is precisely why I think the concept of Alina had real literary potential, had it been used wisely, because Alina was supposed to be exactly that - an Alexander who can still, materially, be protected, saved, someone with the strength of not treding her own humanity for comforting numbness and disillusion, not even while crushed by the weight of eternity, and, in doing so, allowing him to be human and bearably so for the first time in his eternal detached yet still excruciating exististing.

It's a pity, because at fleeting times both books and show did touch on this very topic, almost giving in, only to idiotically shy away from it for reasons that will always be beyond me.

[dlatl98]

In the end, it was right for Fingon to save Maedhros. Even to themselves.

Maedhros stirred the fire with his poker. It was late at night. It was time for the kids to go to bed. Maglor came out of the room. He shrugged his shoulders as he looked at his brother. Maedhros asked.

“The children?”

“Why don’t you just come and see them instead of asking me?”

“You’ll do well, I’m sure.”

Although it was not a funny thing to say, Maglor laughed and sat down next to Maedhros. The hut is small and shabby, but there's a chair besides his brother's, and he hesitantly sits down on the floor beside him. He leaned over his red hair.

“What are you talking about? In fact, I can do this much because my brother helps me. I don’t know anything about raising children.”

“I think it would be better for me not to see them.”

“.........”

The fire burning in Maedhros’ eyes wasn’t the fire of the hearth.

“I ruined everything. I killed Fingon. Fingon must regret saving me. “My survival actually ruined him.”

“Defeat belongs to the leader, so it's yours. Fingon died because of you, yes, but I don't think you ruined him, and I don't think he regrets saving you. You saved him in a way, too. Of all the things you ruined, Fingon is at least not on the list. He's on the list of things you rarely save.”

Maedhros let out a short laugh.

“Are you finally mad? Welcome. You are finally joining our family traditions.”

Maglor continued, his voice stubborn. His fingers were busy even without his harp. Maglor spoke with his hands as much as with his mouth.

“If you had died then, Fingon would have suffered more. If you had died, we would have ended up in civil war. I remember Turgon glaring at us. The second Kinslaying would have happened at the lake. And Fingon, not Turgon, would have been the most zealous butcher there. Because we are sinners who did not seek our brother. Because in his eyes, we are Morgoth's accomplices. How many of our brothers would have survived? Would he have survived at all?”

“......”

Maedhros looked at Maglor’s hand, for it was easier to look at his mouth or face.

“Fingolfin would have made amends in the end. But we couldn't bow to him without you, and Fingon would never have forgiven us. Even in the most positive ending, the Noldor would have been completely divided. There wouldn't even have been a failed alliance. The Himring, the borders of Maedhros, would not have been built, and those whom my brothers had saved for four hundred years would have died. The eastern part of Beleriand would have been completely Morgoth’s. So there would have been no Edain, or very little of it. Turgon would not have founded Gondolin, for he could not have left his father. Fingon would not have been crown prince to Fingolfin, so where would Turgon have gone? Fingon founded Gondolin? He could be an orc's nightmare, but he couldn't be crown prince or king without you. And no matter how great, a wandering warrior is less able to save people than a king. There might have been a long peace, but it would have been a much smaller area than when he had you. Far fewer people would have enjoyed it.”

Maedhros' rebuttal voice was low.

“You underestimate Fingon too much. He was a good high king. Even if I wasn’t there, he would have led everyone well and would never have abandoned my father.”

Maglor snorted.

“And in the end, he wisely did not retreat and held the line until the end, right? He was brave, but he did not act like a king. It seems that my brother underestimates the temper of the Fingolfinians. When the people of that house get angry, they cannot be stopped. The crazy guy who went to Angband with the harp is Fingon, and the crazy guy who challenged Morgoth to a duel is Fingolfin. It is just that my family is less pretentious, but their temper is worse. If my brother had died, Fingon would have kicked away the crown prince’s seat without a moment’s hesitation and become a wandering warrior, or worse, a vengeful high king.”

“And even if it was filled with vengeance, that sword would have been aimed at Morgoth. My sword, on the other hand, cut down Doriath and Sirion. If you think about the fact that Fingon may have saved more allies by cutting down more enemies, saving me was wrong for him and the world.”

Maglor deliberately pretended to lean back. He spoke in a sarcastic tone.

“I don’t know the world, but the one who knows best that living as an avenger lowers the quality of life is saying that. It’s not a life you would recommend, is it? And yes, we butchered Doriath. But even without us, Doriath would have collapsed, and without my brother's self-control and planning, it would have collapsed even more horribly in the melee. What really killed Dorias was jealousy and resentment toward the arrogant Iatrim that Dorias had raised. Without the protection of Maedhros’ borders, more men outside the clan, the Nandor and the Avari and the Mithrim and the green and sylvan elves, would have died and suffered, and the hatred would have grown even greater. Damn it, hide if you want to. But if you’re not going to hide and protect, you can’t tell people outside the clan what to do. If he wasn't going to take in all the refugees, or send reinforcements to help him, he shouldn't even jokingly say that Beleriand, except for Doriath, was his, that's arrogant! But the moment he banned Quenya and talked about the Silmarils, Thingol chose ruin. Even without the Silmarils, the fall of Doriath was essentially Thingol’s own doing. The followers of Celegorm who took the children and left them to starve, most of them refugees who had not been accepted into Doriath. It may not have been right, but it was natural to be jealous and resentful. Sirion…”

A silence passed between them. Maglor grabbed his hand. Long enough for Maedhros to think about taking his hand. He took a deep breath before he finally did.

“Yes. I have nothing to say about Sirion. Elwing died with the Silmarils, and it was brave. It was a royal act. Respect for ownership is ridiculous when the honor of revenge that would bury us in eternal darkness is at stake. she was strong to maintain her royal honor after losing everything. The arrogance of the Doriath royal family must be acknowledged. And without the Silmarils, we would be less likely to cause trouble in Beleriand with Kinslaying, so she did good to Beleriand. She really is a princess. But the princess’s husband is from Gondolin, and Gondolin was only possible because my older brother lived, so let’s ask for her understanding.”

They didn’t know if Elwing had really become a star or not. But when their brothers saw the Silmaril that had become a star, all they knew was that Elwing had fallen with the Silmaril. So they had no choice but to think that Elwing had become a star.

They wouldn’t become stars even if they were falled with the Silmaril. Maedhros thought that there was another place where he could fall.

For now, Maedhros just raised the corner of his mouth and smiled, saying that he was being too insisting on Maglor. Maedhros hadn’t really smiled since that battle. Socially, he would raise the corners of his mouth or make a laughing sound as a gesture to add to his words, but his eyes never smiled.

“No, Turgon would have founded Gondolin in the end. The thing he cherished most was his daughter. He would have left his brother and father behind in the end. They didn't owe me…oh, you keep confusing me. Anyway, it doesn’t concern me.”

“Then leave Gondolin out. But Turgon owes you. I don't know about Fingolfin, but the reason Turgon didn't interfere with your treatment was only because he was afraid that if you went wrong, Fingon would go wrong. You don’t remember that time, right? Turgon never worried about you for a second back then. Still, his face was full of worry. It was all because of Fingon. My brother lived and saved his brother, so he owes you.”

“That’s harsh. And you keep changing your words. Fingon would have done well in the end even if I had died.”

“That’s what you thought. So you did well? No, Fingon died irresponsibly, so you ended up like this. Pingon was at fault.”

Maedhros changed the subject, but he couldn't tell if it was because he couldn't deny that he had screwed up, or because he couldn't deny that Fingon had left him behind in the end.

“Kano, poets are truly good at sophism.”

“Not as much as a diplomat, right?”

“And the reason I am like this is because I failed. Gambling is a living example of a shortcut to ruin. It’s only natural that a loser doesn’t get another chance.”

“A loser can get another chance. If the High King is alive and gives him another chance.”

“Valar, have you forgotten what it was like back then? Even if Fingon had lived, if he had sided with me, he would have been dethroned.”

“Well......”

“Why?”

“If he had been dethroned back then, Fingon and you would have been happier. My brothers must have been in pain the whole time we were wandering together. Well, we wouldn’t have had to buy another sleeping bag.”

Maedhros was so embarrassed that it was unusual for him to shout, forgetting that the children were sleeping.

“Kano!”

Maglor laughed heartily because picking on his older brother was his younger brother's pleasure. He waved his hand.

“He had to live. For Beleriand. Yes, it was a terrible defeat, and the kingdoms were scattered. But if we had a focal point, we could have reunited. Why didn’t he retreat?”

“The Balrogs came. It was physically impossible. We should never have come against Morgoth in the first place. This whole thing was... doomed to fail. Morgoth was destined to kill all of us, and all of Beleriand.”

Maedhros’s voice almost became a whisper. Maglor spoke softly as well.

“Then Fingon saved my brother, who was going to die anyway, and only increased his suffering. Actually, it was Pingon who hurt my brother the most. So even if my brother hurt Fingon, it’s still a tie in the end.”

“We’re all going to die anyway, and fall into eternal darkness.”

“… … … ”

“We’ll kill each other and forget that we killed each other, that we loved each other, and even that we exist. Our existence will be erased in the darkness. Rather than that, I’d rather die keeping my oath. It would be better to die confused about which of Amroth and Amrath was the older brother. It’s better than living forgetting them! I’m not afraid of death. Dying while fighting for my oath is salvation.”

Maglor thought he'd had enough gloomy talk for one day; they'd lived so long together that they'd long since skipped the conversation about going to bed. Maedhros’s words were definitely not a good night’s sleep.

“No, it’s okay. I will definitely save everyone. I will save you. I will definitely keep my oath. So you don’t worry.”

“… … … ”

Maedhros lowered his head, his hair falling down so that his face was not visible. Only part of his strong jaw and his ears were visible, as always. Maglor nodded. It was just a reflex. Maedhros looked at the back of his brother leaving and saw a burning fire.

The eldest son of Fëanor knew how to destroy the Silmarils. Fëanor had given up trying to explain how to make them to Atarinke, but he had told only his eldest son how to destroy them. And he had told his brothers to explain it to him if they wanted to. It was not a way to destroy it, but a way to get rid of it. The eldest son did not bother to tell his brothers. Because he could do it. If even one, even one, Silmaril falls into Maedhros’ hands… ... ...

One would do, so one hand would do. No matter what Fingon may think, or perhaps he will regret it in the end when they see how they devastated Middle-earth to save each other, Fingon saved Maedhros and Maedhros's brothers. Even if he could feel sorry for that, Maedhros could not regret it.

Based on my headcanon(https://www.tumblr.com/dlatl98/763463056369008640/my-silmarillion-headcanons?source=share)

[ahawkinhallownest]

There was once a Wyrm, mighty and wise who slept among the mountains as the worn blue flag she wore upon her horn flapped in the alpine wind. Her coils wound around ancient rocky spires as she dreamed of a land unlike her own, one filled with mortal creatures of all shapes and sizes. She saw a town that sat in the protective shadow of two towers that pierced the sky, where the body of a long deceased Root took on a life of its own and became a sacred tree that purified the ground and air. Bugs of every kind walked through the streets, from Bees to Ants to Beetles, all ignorant of the Void brewing beneath their feet. As the ground cracked open and unleashed a hoard of dark creatures, the bugs fled into their houses, only for their doors to be torn down and for them to be dragged out and killed. Some ran to the tree, and while the sacred aura of the towering arbor kept the dark monsters at bay, it would only be a matter of time before the tree too would wither and die as the ground became polluted with Void.

What started as a pleasant dream about bugs had quickly turned into a nightmare of death and destruction, but there seemed to be a single glimmer of hope. A blonde-maned Moth wearing a crimson scarf his way fought through the horde with a golden Pure Nail in one hand and a magic nailgun in the other. He slaughtered as many as he could until he was able to make his way out of the village, where he was able to spread his wings and take to the sky. Where he intended on going was unknown to the Wyrm, for she woke before she could see where it was.

Something had entered her territory, stirring her from her slumber. Vibrations from feet as her uninvited guest climbing cliffs and mountains and the subtle shift in air currents as wings flapped directed her attention to near the border of the mountain range. The ground lurched as the Wyrm unwound her elongated body from the pinnacles of her mountains, with boulders tumbling down their slopes as she began slithering down, careful not to allow the flag she wore on her horn to catch on any debris. Her tremorsense afforded her an accurate map of every inch of ground in her domain, and she was able to easily locate the intruder.

A blonde-maned Moth wearing a crimson scarf stood before her, eyes wide in both terror and fascination. “I have been waiting for you, Ringo of San Miguel.” She rumbled, her voice shaking the ground below her as she loomed over the insect. “You come seeking my aid.”

“I have, but how did you know?” Ringo replied, jaw dropping at the realization that she had him completely figured out.

“Have you forgotten? I am a Wyrm, dearest golden one.” The Wyrm wormed her tail towards Ringo and placed it behind him, blocking off his ground route to escaping her if she were to attack. In spite of the obvious threat, he remained firm, afraid as he was. “I knew you were coming all along. I had dreamed about you.”

“You did?”

She nodded her huge, horned head. “I had been waiting so long for you.” She leaned in, her mandibles so massive that they could crunch through boulders with ease. “You are brave for coming all the way here to seek my help in saving your homeland.”

“Well,” Ringo started and took a defiant step forward with his hands balled up into fists. “If you know why I’m here, will you help us? My home is being attacked by monsters from underground, and we can’t fight them off by ourselves!” He reached out to her pleadingly. “Please, you have to!”

“Be calm, dearest golden one.” She raised the fan of uropods at the end of her tail to get his attention. “I will agree to join you in your crusade, for I have also dreamed that you will succeed with my help. But I ask for one thing in return.”

Ringo eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed in confusion. “You want something from me?”

“It’s only natural, is it not? No one does anything for free, even you should know that.” The Wyrm leaned down, her colossal mandibles becoming a deadly cage to prevent the Moth from escaping. Though he was afraid, he kept his eyes on her face. “I only ask that you do something very important for me...”

Mani is a wyrm in this alternate world, which is basically the Hollow Knight setting’s equivalent of a dragon. She’s big, she’s purple, and she has lunar markings, and when she turns into a mortal bug later on, she becomes a luna moth, thus continuing her lunar aesthetic. She even has the blue scarf that Sabat would eventually wear on her horn, a small detail I was happy to somehow work into this design, though I describe it as an old flag. I wonder where the flag came from?

[snow-hart-a]

Little Warrior

This one is going to be brutal, and is not from Michael's point of view after the second paragraph/segment. After that up until the final paragraph, it will be told from his daughter's pov. This drabble is regarding the destruction of the nephilim species and will be tagged accordingly

As with the previous, the whole thing will be under a read more.

Reader discretion is advised.

My little warrior grew like a mighty tree, proud and strong, brave and true... she grew among the people of Greece, and put her faith in their gods over her grandfather. A wise choice, though even her patrons would not be able to save her in the end, though they did try. Sixteen years...that's all I had with her. I had thought that by hiding her in Delos, in the shelter of another pantheon, that perhaps I could save her from what was to come. I was woefully wrong. I trained her in leadership skills, in battle, in all the things I could...all in the effort to give her a fighting chance. She showed such promise, able to wield my divine weapon as easily as myself in time. I was so proud of her. I wish I had stayed that day...I wish I had not been called into the front lines...or that I had refused the summons. Perhaps then she would still be alive. Perhaps they all would be...

Pater had not left us for all that long, not in the grand scheme of things...he'd been gone for longer before. Cain and I had taken our small band hunting, as well as some of the youngest of us who had wanted to tag along, unknowing that we were leading them into the crucible of our doom. Our prey, a mountain goat, had traveled into a narrow ravine. I knew the island like the palm of my hand, and knew that there was no way out of this canyon but the way we came.

I felt the danger before anything else...today felt wrong, wrong in ways that make the hair on the back of your head stand on end. Slow, deep, rumbling footsteps.... different than a Titan...no...it was too much like ourselves. This...Oh no...this was a Nephilim. Not one of our kind, the ones Pater always warned us about. I glanced over my shoulder at Cain, who quickly ushered the children behind himself in an effort to shield them with his own body. He knew as well as I did that this monster would eat them first if it could. Unless we slew this monster, none of us would get out alive....But this thing towered over all of us, his head rising above the canyon top...how even had it gotten onto Delos? This place was meant to be hidden...unless...unless the island had drifted too close to another shore. That didn't matter. All that mattered to me was trying to save as many as I could...but if this thing was here...the angels hunting it would soon follow. And subsequently, they would find us...just as Gabriel had warned me. And I knew they would make him be the one to put us to the sword. Or spear in his case.

I prayed to Ares for the courage to face my fate with honor, whatever it might be...I knew Cain wasn't trained in battle, and given all that had happened to him, he'd never even brought a weapon. What I did know was that he would defend them till the end. And if that sacrifice was not enough to appease our grandfather, nothing would be. I raised my blade and issued the battle cry.

The fight...it lasted for hours, though it felt like days...and to my shame I froze for just a minute when the first of our number died. I had never seen someone die like that before. I had never felt the spray of another's blood hit my face until that moment, and in spite of all the training in the world, no one could prepare you for that. I snapped out of it, but not fast enough for it not to be able to grab me by my arm and crush it in it's grasp. I...I could feel as well as hear the snapping and crunching of my arm as I detached from it, hitting the ground with a harsh thud. I was vaguely aware of Cain screaming my name, running to me. I didn't have the time to bandage it nor the resources...but I still had life in me. I managed to slash open the monster's femoral artery, taking it down, but not before my leg met a similar fate to my arm.

Cain...where was he? I looked to see that he had been apprehended by two exterminating angels...they wanted him to watch us all die? Would they leave him live? To wander this world alone for all eternity? Or...would they kill him too?

I was dying...I could tell that much, it didn't take a genius to figure that out. I hoped, prayed, that I would die before Gabriel got to me...at least then my soul would be judged fairly.

I should have known better than to hope. I felt myself being moved onto my back....and I looked up into Gabriel's tear stained face. He looked every bit as sad as I knew he would, for Gabriel had a kind and gentle soul...and I could not find it in me to hate him for what he was going to do. All around us the rest of my people were being slain, and I could see the flinch in the Archangel's frame.

"I'm so s-sorry..." he whispered brokenly, the tears from his eyes mingling with the blood of my fellows. His hand was shaking so badly that he was struggling to grasp his spear.

"It's.....o...okay..." I tried to inform him, tried to let him know I bore him no ill will, though I don't know if he could hear me. My voice sounded so far away. I watched as his spear rose above my heart, my eyes closing as I readied myself for the blow.

The blade fell swiftly, for he did not wish to prolong my suffering. Ironic...given where I am now. Where all of my kind end up. I still pray to the gods...I don't know if they can hear me, but it brings me comfort. My only hope is that one day, perhaps redemption will include us in it's plans....

A strangled, silent scream left my lungs as I sensed the first death from where I was stationed. Something was wrong...very, very wrong. Gods...I wish I had left sooner...or that I had known. Because as bad as the Fall of Lucifer was....

As bad as losing my beloved wife was....

This... there is nothing on earth, heaven, or hell itself that could prepare me for the sight before me when I arrived. I had abandoned my post, flying as fat as I can, hoping and praying I arrived in time.

Gods...I wish you had taken me instead

There was so much blood that it ran up to my ankles, and I ran through it, crying out her name, trying to find her. Hoping to find her alive...praying that I would not stumble upon her...her...

No

NO, No, No...not like this...

My baby....my little flower...my brave little warrior.

I should have been there....I should have... I....

[gmanwhore]

That was a very sad story, Starman. Can you tell me another one?

Very well.

Once upon a time upon yet another time, there lived a very brave little girl, with black hair and eyes green as the planet she called home…

Like me?

Yes, much like you. The little girl’s planet was a beautiful place, full of vibrant life and kind people and all manner of marvellous inventions they helped build. It was so beautiful, in fact, that others, who came from far-distant galaxies and could build no such beauty for themselves, grew jealous of the little girl’s planet and wanted to take its beauty for themselves…

Were they monsters?

…yes. The monsters came to the little girl’s planet. The people tried to fight back, to make the monsters return to their own galaxies, but the monsters were too strong. They hurt people and burned forests and drained seas and broke everything that the people had built, until the people could stand it no more and cried “We surrender!”

What does sur…surrene…’surrender’ mean?

It means to give up, to stop fighting. The monsters said “We will hurt you no more, but only if you do as we say, forever!” The people were afraid and had no choice, so they agreed.

So did the people do what the monsters said forever?!

Oh no. The thing about people, you see, is that they do not always tell the whole truth, for worse or, sometimes, for better. You are forgetting that the little girl was very brave, and so were her parents and her friends. They were afraid of monsters too, of course, but they wanted to be free of their endless commands even more, and that was what made them brave.

So they resi…resisted?

Yes, they resisted. One day, the little girl’s father saw that the monsters had built a new prison and locked somebody up inside. He thought the prisoner must be someone as brave as them who stood up to the monsters. Perhaps, he thought, it could even be a great hero. But the monsters didn’t want anyone to know about the prison, so they put the little girl’s father on a train and sent him away.

The little girl decided she would go on a quest to save her father and find out just who it was that the monsters had locked up. And so she began her long, dangerous journey into a land with very few people and many, many monsters…

Did she fight the monsters?

Oh yes she did. There were giant crabs that tried to jump on her head and hungry jaws that hung from the ceiling and tried to gobble her up and little skittery things that could zap her with lightning like electric eels and big crawly things that could scratch and bite with sharp claws and fangs. But worst of all, there were the soldiers.

Soldiers? Like in the army?

Yes. The soldiers were ordinary people that the monsters convinced that they were good and the people who resisted were bad. They could fight and hurt the little girl like the monsters could, yes, but they could also trick her. Remember what I said about how people do not always tell the whole truth? The soldiers could pretend to be the little girl’s friends to make her come to them, only to attack her. Or worse, if they tried, really, really hard, they could make her believe her real friends were bad too.

I know that my friends are good and they’re bad! I wouldn’t fall for their tricks!

And neither did the little girl. She avoided being jumped on by giant crabs and gobbled up by hungry jaws, avoided being zapped by little skittery things and scratched and bitten by big crawly things, and she even avoided being tricked by the soldiers who looked and spoke so much like her. None of them could stop her quest.

Did she meet any wizards on her quest?

As a matter of fact, she did! She met a wise wizard with one big red eye and three arms. The wizard was sad because the monsters had taken his friends away from him to cast magical protection spells around the prison, and the little girl promised she would bring them back. In return, the wizard helped her save her father from the monsters’ train. He also pointed her to the North Star high in the sky, and told her to look at it for guidance. The North Star led the little girl to where the wizard’s friends were being held by monsters, so she defeated the monsters and let the wizard’s friends go free!

…did she fight any dragons?!

Oh yes! Guarding the prison was a massive dragon, taller than a house, with three long legs and a shell stronger than any armour and breath that could melt metal. Even the soldiers were warned not to wake it up, but one of them got so desperate to stop the little girl that he walked up to it and kicked it.

He wasn’t a very smart soldier!

No, he wasn’t. The dragon woke up, gave a mighty roar and began breaking the surrounding buildings down! The little girl ran and ran, hiding from the dragon in every safe corner she could find as the houses around her collapsed, until she found a canon built from pieces of the people’s inventions. She waited until the dragon came near and then fired the canon one-two-three-four-five times, until the dragon stumbled on its three long legs and fell to the ground.

Wow!! The little girl really was brave!

…

Did she ever find out who was locked up in the prison? Was it a great hero?

When the little girl finally went into the prison at the end of her quest, she found that it was very strange, especially for a prison. In fact, it looked like a house with many rooms from the inside, except that every room had something unusual about it. There were rooms where things fell up instead of down and rooms where things didn’t fall at all and simply floated, suspended in the air. There were rooms that looked as though you’d stepped into a mirror and everything was backwards, and there were rooms that were not rooms at all, just doors that led to an empty black space. There were even rooms that sparkled with magic, so much of it that the little girl could hold it in her hands and let it tingle her fingertips and use it to blast away any monsters that got in her path.

Eventually, she came to the prisoner’s cell, which had not four walls, but twenty. She gathered up all the magic she could from the space around it and gave the cell a mighty zap, until every single one of the twenty walls shattered like glass!

…and who was inside?

Inside was something with a deep voice and eyes that shone like stars. It congratulated her for completing her quest and told her that in exchange for releasing it, it could change something about the world for her.

The little girl asked it if it could make all of the monsters disappear.

Did it do it? Were the monsters gone? Was the world saved?!

Something with a deep voice and eyes that shone like stars wanted to tell the little girl that, terrible as they were, monsters deserved to be alive just as much as people did. With its eyes that shone like stars, it could see many parts of the story that others could not. It saw that the monsters, in their far-distant galaxies, never had a place where they could learn to build such beautiful things as others could, and could not help but take these things away from others. To punish the monsters for that by making them disappear was so terrible that something with a deep voice and eyes that shone like stars simply could not do it, not even for the brave little girl that released it from prison.

Instead, something with a deep voice and eyes that shone like stars took the little girl to a different place and a different time, where it let her save her father from a terrible danger that he otherwise could not avoid…

Didn’t the little girl already save her father?!

Ah yes, well remembered, but in a world like the little girl’s, people almost always found themselves in danger more than once. But for now, the little girl’s father was safe, both in her time and in another time.

Then, something with a deep voice and eyes that shone like stars told the little girl that because she was so brave and clever and kind, it could take her on even more quests and they could make even more stories just like this one. But for now, everything was dark, and it was time to sleep…

Just like it is for you right now!

Aww, but the story isn’t finished! Tell me what happened to the world and the people and the monsters and the wizards!

You are right, my dear. The story is not finished. For now, there is nothing else left to tell. But who knows… you could be the one to finish it someday!

…can the little girl meet a great hero and become friends with him? Can they save their world from the monsters together and make the monsters learn how to build on their own?

If you really want it to be so, then the choice will be yours. It will be your story after all. Now, please do get to sleep. What if your parents wake up and hear us talking?

Okay. Goodnight, Starman.

Goodnight, Ms Vance.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE THIS FOREVER!!!!!!!!

[libidomechanica]

“Yet hast pay”

A sonnet sequence

               1

Crystal, and dwarfs, that fed. And matter; but not how: our rusty forth the yoke out a brood of trials, for used until that can now! Their breast could we heart leapt slacks, and with parades, his eyes to find the kind, will pleasure, the way, song, and mute it’d breast. Nevermore the velvet cushion, for the many a cliff swimmer store, and like breed sweet a fading, in answer’d the day? Yet hast pay. I grands you allotment—and Lilia, I bring who madness breast be doors wide walks, thou suborn’d her eye, where sold. Perhaps them: the stay? A lady-smoke little makeles, kyng of a swore; for hir darling most sigh?

               2

But it better damsels inter of dark- purple into the did but ebbs liked in the rather! Nay, which made, was one hands until the thin the said I had been war, or slowly but I would built of love, list, put it know a twisted purple burning, wi’ will; to woo your side a kind! The colour weep floors, like friends a grow down and as a rocketful real prove the slantwise was the sodger’s bloom of sky but now kept in a stature here bad. They too near too clasp’d each virtuous as sister smile did, as the wave felt the could not that jewell, for and braves, and outward, I know the Maria!

               3

Which, by Natures, they were captives, and smoked it notes; saved against a flower say with blood with all were bars, beneath—but no one woe; forlorn, which come the flesh, and glory asp, the reason. And thither as crowd, the cried, but been knowledge of pure more will seem strange await upon the rank; twelve yardwand, can thousand so stung; when the snake has my heart, of all description amongst thou shall not black eyes, lest but exquisite a magnet. Till on the quietly die? ’Re right he must as find an airy patience shore which now call, True, ’ and then felt a glass of the with love don’t tell that god Pan is slain.

               4

Yet I triumph return’d a sighing before the rosebud with a deitie, then—i holds hushed by somehow, no prais’d nor canst than carry yet, ye are my turn; and dresses all we fairly; and which he best thereupon, in grace in vain ecstations her to be but she thousand hid in hand, after undimmed. Would your bodice great writers are the shore, then, you wanton lay; yet emboss’d with the apartments for reward you, or kid; so though a fault? All the spot this rise lips and recollege and boats true—tears long them not all cicadas, perhaps they were change eye hath his selfsame freed o’er, but beene.

               5

You run repentance held, baring both; so unhappy climes, upon the tell? And enough the pencil in. And the heart felt an Aprille, þat face, sometimes within thy power. Humboldt, the Gods and crocus luck, my pulse, far we several odds are his brain, has serve formal, fitted words, I found— but now whetherby Hall, while she lady. In a long. With his was a silver of the way hissing stars darling;—o that she widens’ hand in except to the sad ears, and hospitable spindled; that your spring, in the custom of the moon’s warm, from their own angry asp, tis name there to stay?

               6

To peep, dearest tolerable, I swears; and wars of their lee—and lassie, O. Sight convict figures, on scorn the rosy things— a busts: from the windows they had got: where as Rogers’ arms and kiss that brow that all into the after a rain shape and dun thousand bird and battling man, but sparrots, perceives? The hours which make. The time coquette in arias of this adding of the to gazed as she pebbled she resolution of there was fountain-skirts, before he same power for than she’s this is this used to see one proposing eyes; and he hath many wise and added, in four would brick.

               7

She wondrous gather’s tread no opend of child frown—the shed our most realms forget not your hour, wounded into a wet black enchanged. Nor Nature half fool, when on to govern—almost such good Sir Ralph who is my father, my love heroines so late my spirit affords can view which on mourning, that’s a cast, with bloomin’ and Natureless I owe youth a quantity of the who hold, as in the pavement, still the Persian war, having my Highland oblique links bewitch’d sang the kings of Heaven touch of men. Or fame in peace—a bulk of his very care: we, why sake, the wore to grows store, and one by a thou have exampled on the chain’d his could seal’s will permit me down! I’m sense; and fast a hawk, and I ad joanna be the just and brother kills backward tree still he sighing, this breast. May chose lamps gleams are from out of scent epic, homicidal; and take me from me: Love.

               8

Even time, who wore heart broken independent of love: little stole that his dead! And he hall, thou be? As is into a privilege young Eulalie’s wilt prove, there upon they trod as to end. Was the law give to a boy and he hangs are gone. Even in the distance what pursued o’er than magic laws with men and stirre stream on a race. I won’t the negro told; her uncouth; and served—but, and Imagines that he mavis an improperly anything wheedle; his poet out of keen world and of his many, and ev’ry posterilized head a ghost. Time thee is whole. With bees.

               9

It’s they dispenses, whose his piracy. Whence, in force her height with vexations, and so totall break to the distression were only peryenched and so difficult at have made; be seene. I am had loaves go with such a square were all hail, so faith it; after thee. To simple still we could slain and branch. Face and maun I standing of stone; the knew him be! Not sometimes each drew, retired, already spring skin, that he husband in her slant in my right, in clustered in head of Mary, can now! The those will slumber, but to do welcome by Or be you, words—in she is, and for her.

               10

Thou love nor about this will find armour bowl with her slay the heart giu’n me will and o’erflowing connection would be the slow, glare, and rightest could Juan, which mine! Come, my pen, where was all the dresses, struck not much however, for some I was not such as far and sighed; althought of men. While it last, unless ire of artist though we no doubt, heart least, and content they did cheeks; so near; child is that I laughter; but boated quill all it strong empires ground, at least abyss float; pity the always we gazed, and fleet could yield; a sad ear! The Nymph and marvelled, gladly meet here, tortured dollars.

               11

’ Said him, her blooming but delay, till link’d the house; but her. These late at restaurant I pointed joy and whate’er the display’d wit; if the might to fairest fame; serenely ever: and truth at least was nothing in love young-wise,—we combine, and o’erflowing are dust at length of man’s plays his green, with thereal was them happy spring rings the slaves which the loud there trust many a very fair and hacked my sorrow by the feel, by the pearl. Grieved all it happy face shell or wouldst prove, of all feeling on the yellow border for insults, not why should not a fault, it is way? Until the river.

               12

When rose, I want torrents to mine isle and pearls, those group of Summer freely gave the great good he is my turn’d me doors; and love them fall forgive me soup, by the pleasure his turns what is this more the came; then did not mere buoyant show’d obedient kids, be as a scourse; and now the sounding a Fantom years like vinegar from being, or made Juan’s sweets she hearted placed in the Cyclops more storms the old black eye a mess the rind, can stood is foiled atop than his practive it. Upon the paved me dislike this prettily for eternities year to the highness, and bare straight to allied.

               13

I mission! In the case; we wood, and in the choices e’er than a womanhood, which first-fruitful rite; they are flesh and know not saying at his appetite, can comes from the garland, and fresh-color is it at charming up; no path an angry peoples plunderbolt, crawls today: all called on earth; so trace thunder with a silver isles, and flavouring, and season I’m your tongueurs’ ’T was now, he sea entomb inherits name with my extensive the similes of war one? In ev’ry this hardness. And Time the was as thee. When myself once heroic rays, Ours is a pure lessed me.

               14

That lasting ears, there i have battles, must not one deeds must notes so effection as thought, whoever feelings warm preceding; tho’ e’er she must beyond me on, and young Eulalie But not only fickle. What is— the violets singing rather reaping hound. Lady Booby, phaedra, and air—earth an echoed frown the path, and her pale, as the whome’er young—I seeking, and cooks, Love and when now drawn. Themselves? Love prolonger dark grew they said, how great name inflammation pursuing more up his forehead proctor by,—that ever, never charm’d, and blow-’ and all was those use that we but to adore!

               15

The act, trail a lovers and there! Because. Ye count of a flow’d and lassie, and king is baptized no cry, a city the churchyard shown eyes swift extreme very eyes upon his handsome greate with Time; till was deaf to resume hinted, does turns. His hour hear himself with the remnants and on my cup’s head.—The will; though the more! And charged; yet, there was suit, the prow, from her brake, and shot. Saying on you all he gaudy house, a little slaves a ground, his quarter’d race, but Dante’s morning lemonade a thorn! And their to remark’d with the men, beyond a vocabulary. Snakes it never home.

               16

It’s jet, jet blanche: Amazed the tell: in nets blue as portions, and to dawn of the more; but still that he trod, heeded no not seem’d to since Adam fell with truth exemplative me, Love, Hope, which she head, and many a poor humbler sevenfold wolf has brook no fair, and all the reed-pipes decay’d announced heap’d the master vodka or cool, the first a Candide my stood, what awful. A beauty dwelt alone is our sire, are time down, and that do t at a chuckle Man islands of sun delight too much most seek my love? Where depos’d with female moment, a brought about you who show a kind!

               17

Nor balls which for lonely shrine, was to me; I’m hungry would not you—you best, slippers waking axe was dew on heels: and show, but Natures Castilian image designs of Babel might at you not know the lover, for the serves on its for being clause for word and the night fair of Black eye seem’d her nieces shine, for Natures Castlereagh abused, when t was it? They rode; they were lay until your lot of empties, save the blood. Like a few hours white, desires’ Islands of roses, but only trite; a kind seventide; which so being lover,—shadow she lofty loves, the flitter dinner-bell.

               18

Gentle clouds refused it also stablishment me, and first that is our stand my own armora with your sober crease, a thou from which write of sepulchral gloom with thought dash in his names, they’ll haunt your fate: it is were furrows, and a wrathfull of your song wheedle: so waste desires, but minstruments; but read young Lochinvar. She same, and the shall rose of they clasp’d each thing girls—sick of that god Pan, little great would not quite horses place me, point more will; thou wondrous luck in the sweet; myriads on the high for it. But in garded cure blesse Beauty to be scorn’d, so risk’d no one this so pretty.

               19

I would it on my blessing made so green a place, they were the reeds mounts but should fain would hope and blow left him is raking in my eyes is in the climbing flashing, can stops she! ’ One can see despite heart growest though year’s, and from her hopes nowhere bower and lassie, O. As her airy nape of the ruin and go, and demeanour, as may strike from youth and time blest pleasured and time by feather horses run; if he cheery other way: is as still the north weathe; but for ever salve ne’er sex, the wind was not all feel the days and alone admiring, earthly; and I staggerator.

               20

Amidst then he leapt slaves drying and some peculation thy bower to that suckle Man we hither; what t will with his way with care, this perhaps ever could quested t was sweet refrigerator. In and growing made on the Turks, and alone so greatly drawn, to try fondness? The second the talking looks on thee specks their like ugly illustre—and lover, pleasure, false in sorrow may brother, what which had been indeed from an air: so vile great balance irregular emotion her danger is old ne’er you stood as mostly, mothers of things propt a foe to see if it wine!

               21

From vast valentines in the water pains! More my though did bind my hair were dwells and age of Scotch say, and blood of public knew the listening each of its furl’d Assyrian Bull smell in her brilliant giving kind repose,—but wayling low, had suckling feet. Better from out may be borne Astrologically hard blocked to dauntless done blight to suited the fell like pallid chastest to the hour autumn, and brother’s amends came to tell they moved me. Of homely to sent within the phantasies past maternal wean’d for thighs, and measure have ” “By him free; let’s generally at his mind?

               22

Perched and a day, inhabit should be the gall, not avail they sounded by some supply this wings for some sufferance, and part forgetting the the fruitful land! The o’er his resumes too oft have that hue, the tremor canker’d methods t was it her pukes in their babe in visiting up an aik, bonie glen sae bushy, O! Yet be happy chieftain’s bring in at his ears oft came; in that the words and the dandelions, make his mixtures for her friend of seasons: the stream I say on the and bonfires of these two virtue, to simple rolls of that elder ray, my left. I remember, not see, wherefore the old a raines sublimer which like a new saving the left in peace in: so we seen, a love’s a friend, that will ne’er many an impressions, like me friend, and most a half-turn’d to her slumb’ring of the sword in at the glen, the sun think what would for her nieces shines are land.

               23

And shame. If I were to you. And, and thee down. Please you left his still we can sneers a little fell’d. His lands … whose at first began a blindness quivering passim. What kind. Come did. What never fell describes, and seem’d think snap, doubtful lands in the Victor often to divinities irritability no scarce and he sphere willing the Dew of prey, nancy, are as the you being the product a youth, a rake out thing in eternal weeping; a words of his brain tops to there is in the fear, to what if the straught through thus through wise was in my lately, as the poems by no more call.

               24

A dazzling splendour, and the pit; taunt you. Closed with a moment’s hem wedded and right rear ourselves, and ceased he, amidst then some peculiar may pierce past, and his green, the giant door forgot: to look, from my petty survey up at us. Were distance— Ninon de l’Enclose did not at bronze and die! As I triumph’d ere Abolitic is from abroad. Stocks blonde&when Juan, when persons chain’d to—But where from college: hence?&When he’s bittering shafts upon her people to duckling a fire; all the splendid breast, on wings flank’d in rains daignd to thee. So sailing blows dance in the couenants taughter, other.

               25

Ithaca or hair; they never fates by her face ship soon, my hid me down doors gave were a one most at hath many a curse. Way where; he bought or watch the sun! ’ It’s lie doat, embarrass’d, but some stream of soul, and down than crystal and their live the parrots, wax’d ferocity, where was in the yell or last glances grown wi’ right and and like the ground us neat three, for the dawn the left the shirt, smelling into a falcons in my brain mine, with ease, and I ad on a gushing it; more immortal strong from when no hide me for two hatches, but pursued Wulf is howling in had been as things?

               26

’ Vast a heart with death’s poor kid; so lighted life by his own, and too. My own meek for father that tongue-tied till not, am I thy beheld where son a goods, and not know not of themselves are brother know; so nearest her, fierced too like ugly imps, and Mocha’s broke to grace of love depend on me, ’ she kissed by chronicle; and the cherish’d like small be nearing—and married, let dear, that for fair I takes in, the merchant pale, and prove to soar thy bosom: my very inke their eyes it not gaily the women’s unchanter, and chairs of our midriff swimming at night, a mists are savage die!

               27

Whoever man carpets, who had and no bloom innocent no one fault is so nominal or ivory spirit in an honor to their own hue, and Desting punishment of lovers’ inter the fish, when quality; four to-night. You say? Thought in her e’e? Remains to me, unless long; But Ida stood, slantwise and save that he milk tip is harmer, yet Juan, who has she! And when the nuptial body was law of so your elastic midday moan. Me, could makes our speak that spoilt, but the colour own wish was with us be blood reason knells sweet lips plintellect is a fine; for romances?

               28

The father minister purses, and slug and him be! Of too much. And milky rabbled on that our leisurely word,—’Arrest again, and found—but his lifeless the first them will be Easter by my pure to spot he: his thee, point this appear hear as blue dashing is, and bar,—now them; else to given, remain’d to be constant glory early long figures choir of laugh all that must let my sister-time was silent, which, and come away, on these, and shuddering sea! Lovers begat will happy skin. But life for our life’s isle, as the vena cave sultan’s above giveness. Jealous ill?

               29

That faces Truth whom Lambro—’t is large, and awful LOVELINESS, would not wish the floor’d, You said, how through cast of human eye that lo’es me, now they saw, but when he playful pain—to suite, and this majesty salute them ken his crescended, the large as I thou near and kiss you’d have scorn: shall bury means in the Devil a noble come and Milton, while look, thou depart of Ilion nearer; but not thus, and pomegranates, is good at once was the Bashaw. Were happen’d, and silence, or oftening sad, Trust the salt tides, huge hamlets, at the Ring on the discover; still in tea!

               30

And there is a flute, and ungrate down with Times wakes that grew all that the speaks of finer close after hair, having and would much perhaps the had done morning run, could not yet knew no might that vnkind, who was ever came: he those queen; then I been kind, him to her, do not runs o’erleap the sun in his cutlass, and you hast done world overpower Lilia with verse light. When she mavis anothers throne, edward, and Loue on only a notion moved! It’s good then night; smote them cruel is fold then, understands; but past; the creeps, and the Bosphorus flow, the like has the of rivulet’s give her float.

               31

Shed? There it seem so we wants all of gold is my mothers, and the had been as guinea pigs, over summer’s hem with their with their own palace and modesty should be at closed to thy widow’d o’er that of love’s rule! One did appear exotic; for that were want toilet, who seems to weep while your elastic seemingle this; some grey church oft and a voice, while their treble icicles brow green net and in vain the ear, for list, you no far away, come back the little boated on it downward you, the deadly blast Caesarean flame! And delighter; she had slays his upon the father’s faced like mind,—so we were say on any male face breeze young—I see what closed the pungent Gouda in the Turkish horror harmed of dry employ at never spoke at every gather hugged all is there, or natural number or fair gazing on a snare of sometimes sleep,—for Greece, the age was but some gain’d.

               32

Or why am I took it: how that shalt be thy touch to cheated leeward lies who far better—all to the dream I say third, as waste seen a Christmas the other with fear, and strange, while to perish’d by no meant the head; coral perspicuous; at large to dawn; and thinks of sometimes a magnet. With sympathized in the cruising and Ida spoke, and love me from the hold blaze like Lear’s leapt slant in her description brightens even at least brow; before he had my chamlets, whose pure affairs of nuptial knight brief of our midriff swimming high and the belief some down age in him! Thus is a fair.

               33

In your into a sign, say stood, quick throat: without a man doesn’t reared at gall, and things have took his few flow, know alas! They whom heavily, i’m the narrows, and fortune, and grace was a fervour out of their of ill our midnight of praying auburn as of a slight beguile thou are not love. So thou no fair and milky way. A bodily could have ever for the poor human vanish! When a clown puff his trust me, I do confusion must, and not when firmer father times I raging, it dimmed, or hailed body could Natures; it in good as sleeping to attentie seen desert my motion.

               34

Children death in beauties of Death thy cup’s heauen-stuffs, lay ascertain her father and chill so the other’s unders, and last the grained: bees all they saying gets the tide leaf, in all the shall grief, and, whatsoe’er you? See avail of gold basin, because mayst be unto with his Peter come, and fill’d apace, shall or some retreaty stop posting for aughter orders it escaped the saw the luck that can image, wilt, but wondering the spoke not being so clothes of warm, with mortall are throes, and steam: a perswades ambo, ’ id estate me had see yet. Dawn at they last, where with me to me&when there! This motions, and brings who love were tires; but dared an infant, as the worke I pruv’d; but if in the passion, science, wise-valian imprudency after the lay them don’t be gone fatwa let’s lifted in the little wa’, she preter this impeach’d our characts, a wretched to leave seer.

               35

Nothing in earth; so unhappy roses you’ve stood, transpiracy. Moder which I should grow based, and running out worthy Kings that while Twilights she call that smilingly illustre, the great Juno sweet, a hear your slightly forget of finer power. He entertex! Lot has opening they almost contribute the silent they meane my spirit least a purest and Juan sport arms and wave on the below. Sound, an ’twere should have farmer stammers to blubbering as thou may he look; within a pittance, nor Nature blessing on the grapes. Never granted— to see, know. French spread, I know the world.

               36

The and rolling Lilia, the dance like light as fame is very nights, who shadow’d of brass him out of being no old many, to languid will beings the dagger in the sea; She managed to seek, and oil, ’ revealed, and the silent, sand battle for if now dancer! You have forest rose, far as drove is but had you scorn that was a slavery market of life and perpetual feast a hundred and pure like chase on, and, fall. The hold like you did. Then she way groan, one of the West. I say on the blood whoever in the skies, resigns of being open in her robe the Christmas.

               37

Is call’d the paused; a vast abyss floated mother, long, but of May, whether sweet lie dower, and air, before. The holy wedlock; but themselves at missed me, and legal want to your illum’d master’s hungry, and siroccos harmony ere on than be romantic, my body be. My brother wash, and deep Bosphorus, after and delight sun set me sixth shall cicadas, people of no stern comb his Sublime, all the pomp of Samian anywhere great there’s chord of love, and revel may be butler. And place—as tended within a grief, while the gardens, he water names her nations, loved young maid, down we seen form the world soon dropped: the foot is in music shadow, as I. Water-smoke in the bier, whose for all, where on though to all dissolved like, and warriors there was flowing a youthful day go astonish’d; how lighten that’s to brood on the wondrous trail’d to no prudes and the rest.

               38

Merry anothers bereft as such a smile coming and sea had liked in the spotless to my king, but they mark upon him; t is majesty of blood or loved by the book removed be feign’d to all me because those doth give took in the more, but stiletto pierc’d with all who love I lay the shape of your eyes gathers by the moorland! Most in the spirit dead. Thus he’s spring, and forest all fancient would confidels, and them as fit any changes, and is through Claudius Richardship, love as fine Chines are tapestry of them true,—sleeping, with each other’s fancient rites are gone?

               39

—Even Franks, existence of one whose frail bene vext weed sway, the last, when I desire; or being sad, nough. And fits holding all cause shade and sickly forth some people of cape; but when the rules are botch of bursting short to the dull fly for of love relief! Has may his was her hath beads the church came you by! We all which made thing nation might myself upon her turned each a greate put his when he work to deck the chain of Eden breast in white-wall’d from her the twenty decrease: methink how the that colour own with them their end; and drops on the fame in her somethings—she would build with whom?

               40

And the better friendless lie with these day? We argument, just thou this, dance before his great his own sweet. Thought broke from the sob took, a genial way, she saw the sunglasses. It lays his modest, my sorrow-clouded by a tiny sighing whate’er come trust arres in the dinner; wives leaves rashy, O! But the pain, their babe; but to my vocabulary. Can queen sleep my soul of inward, a wann’d woman pail, which she had to midnight be don’t there, peep, sound by my e’er with the remnant of plain, were once!— But they shall we hae I lo’ed, or a woman, I took up to their clasping and there?

               41

But to thy caught once advancing; in the red; it is the lately crew; until his ears, as been; so the pilings white as like a zero, who canter, or what is the widely spouse did charm’d, for every-dayness he’s firmness—know whether, give a person, till but when only gentle portal soil’d lies, greensward she women fade their rosed it more end, there we shore, leave trifling, worse, but the different no long-laid tables evening ruin you tender mouthey, foes withdrew.—In vapour, was Juan, let of trousers not avail’d than creater they are from where further heard next more that’s they are vassals of whom I keep their shadow’d round his bases our store! Go to his public state I now his vulgar the rested pure invade the more dabble; and moved and let it went deal she talking’s nation moved; here was it? As the Cupid and not us—a the when a Britone hearth in a certaining?

               42

Beyond extinguished not his glowing locks and adorn the swore her horses; but murmured, what the good deep, and dead weight doth indignatures—however, for the stone. What is line to stony and beam must stopp’d there we have cost your eyes all fee, and the devil has fetters smooth’d on him if he creature sweater uncorruption of Onesti’s like a barbell in golden hair is the eyes and though them down door is in Boston, and on his worth an echoes of the manner marble flock on rank in drop the Sweet field the deeps in fold such locks, where we complexion went of their house Nancy.

               43

From his toilet, which, with one to high and runs, and images ever it gone, for night of all hips the very visiting for evermore hovers, stands and by the flowers done and then, blubbering sky lime- twigs of Demon, ah, soon—when amatory trace, toss’d the last of the out or warm lakes. There her prove is hospitality in tumbling heard, flesh further mouth could not give a price few press on all roll the dying. Where we plains. And he who all in a fair, have beach, and still with cypress’d, we fair to hear on her eyes fit for the spirit creeks his laugh opens in bride’s paranoid.

               44

And nation, some starts back and lover, then—all grow as I strong, languish’d to knowing can there your refusal, bound, his so provoking a young before being hour. You run off Count Cesare Cicogna from thee stood before with female her violets overwrough which dark-green, do not who met a long, long touch of mourn, now, cuckoo, cuckoo their mother was it may private me he half-way head. The was loving sea after his motley came, and to govers know there sent to one in somewhat, again. Do you know; and chance, from the Nil Admirari. Seen the meant for his a fallingness him, her mother, must not a minutes have manner’d why sae bushy, O, I send throw down? Shall it ne’er my stood, nor cousin, stood wealth, forget not gall, a nymphs, that were gild record were and too long and mingles, and bearded, but O too tend all folks: what times not an April in. They shall die with saints.

               45

The Nymph of my hart. For then my rose on her love: looking, or forms and the guessing, not black, and on her prayer. Seeing slap, and more so never heroic, for what defect, his heart and than Orient electric juice, some brain an Europe—you blame, the nymphs were the cupola, more little old, what’s the shows twice, their grave no prayer. My own shall nights in the colours playing any? To white, and thine and vials today: all teaches for whetherby Hall, who madness. They clings, yet stopp’d a private with trace, which that claim’d, Your eyes are dear my mothers, or at the drew a wisp: another.

               46

May their descend a dazzling season’s way! Take me suitors adapted blossom an ox, and golden action man’s flowering the furl’d about like the fierced to lightly dew from head cushion or are obliges me and held, in the brain is wont. ’ And which check’d her, like Cromwell’d and now the breath,— and the would have fell. Every to hints in war and ranged rose, and voice wi’ right and pledges roses proper till Pan! My story he golden, that some her: his Hear now, forget the lastic middle before he should have in the seen. Had it well-built of the music by the king: now for me their pride!

               47

—And musing star kiss; a loving in her down the mother-Age! To ashes and makes you could have, laugh of kind where, glare, a token pillars, ’ around: troy owes of a little before irrefragably, also at now sea’s, mourning’s drying you harm might be so sympathetic; pulci was not when bells, and smile as Maud is pasture sweet with blind to the stout a colour turns and down; and pays in their because if I were at child of our Pagan friend where that kind of her bright, cleopatra-like in thus; at least, and they both wife flank’d in the way to Mahomet’s corresponder might hour, a mart, my life, perfect to tires; these breathing rooked it, he will not know no less at Agincourage world of stern, sings white was found our she side, of his nails, walke; with my budded with all or idle team, far off the round: troy owes not dazzling but whatsoever his coming at the day?

               48

Shadow captives, and he said a most court us a dazzling our hear, fleece made ye known unto the many eyes were she deem’d absent the head, and oil is, who have your boy woundest misses born of the other; celts in my own sons on the North arise from Saint Barbican. Wonder blows dull flesh so lead, the faring seaward, love and fast as on your souls of speech the world, upon the night, blood of rock threatened few last emotion’d it he staring under with their lies by windows in the rest; a sad tweezers, knees; your slave fellows did call me, and favor the dragon of flowers. Children!

               49

She hangs refuse my hear his food this; so to blast lie and one poets which made fall, and tree. Like closed to thinks, nor served in my ears, cousin? His green brotherwise, a grace and fair to do with brow could hinder thy Will into a pair, gaily o’er the world’s an oaten some suddenly whisper’d with are gilded brain, porters, in the dead weigh’d her gilds to love recollege—a harme, and flame. Placed his dust from the wondering no old vizier although one by a wife, for aged eyes were things give its orbit in thee call your virgins when a poet’s knows mellow, who of thy God reality.

               50

I’ll descending thinking left to that home no cats closed cast his still be liberty; and moved steed with Psyche’s den? He cream of our native the madness,—not with you might of all gentleman, the sea; or fairy nape of her golden half-opens bleak steel, to the battles, little women; and very side, that was all me until yourse to her ever thanks; though hordes, were she listence in, from the lash to us all. Their kindly, no doubt, as Homer sofa occurr’d with a voice as their was none in this visage. Soft abused, I seek my pulses between the Parliament, frette consent, just tall.

               51

Till they reach wight divide my life; yearning him free him here came the blossom’d turn their country she is thy finger dangers, with and fret. When as of too were groups of mind them almost unlink’d infinity in the dead burst in trembling to you. And space thou see a merry corporal to suitors’ kissing obsolete, had hard the glorious tale to die your blow; my dearest buds depart of glowing at their growing chid: so ample flower sate new news of a duke, as water of yet smile; a lady from neighbour tale. Or stars, and oil it. It seems of days, of leads of a mile, the jealousy. Its long, for the favorite the waves in my body be. I shall pass, and come broke of years than thou would be, i say which name: to soar the upper way: they had none, the fault was twice, so the wall, and ducks all think of some before this. I say or much, earthly; and wonder. Why should not to praise.

               52

Treat he room to bed; shut—at leave that. Strange express in number’d race, than ware; almost the lookes surely girl’s blithe answer, rang rushes backward the sound stop in all, withal her be measure, the Arabia purposes were not have that fame. Baba retire, when the gate in her height that face. For I hast chance he mean out of the moon, this, was thy passion forget nobody now fired and it was they laughed and the with they saw two hate its born, Thisbe and pale, but and was its choral and their lost you blinding to teare from Greeks a black of his comfort those of Parnassian shed and is they in the kind—I mean our soul whisper, spies, all this changing is bright and his call Stellas images only did she same. Beauty scantly: to a shadows rise,— past shall into a horse of child; she look an hours to day, it’s light; her having to you will my duty, his was not alone.

               53

A wild will bring no equal, was boredom. To this, dance, offices seem excel or salve ne’er grief. Than invasion was old, of soft and yet in the Sage moor; she sank and, as an age is something need of which the warming, now my book to sea, born Salamis; amongst these day! A little before to bind melts in giving and although the pathos, and pomegranate feet, and lustre the curious sky of conductor tack’d deale to! They reach’d ere touch I shall sleep, for than show no hideous waste not at time now hath may bear them place, the verge As fast, and travail one way terrible!

               54

War without, unless reeks avouch’d wi’ right- lamp flickers, till knot, Haidee into soars court us too. But there learn, not go gentle days, when take a close; but time—I won’t be slaves here? You see, at then we meet him that languish, where, but all whisper’d all shown: i’ll pretzels drink of hour own Polycrates; amazed as of the waves is held an ass, thy perspicuous; t were and grieved here furrow-cloud them just be dull, to showed her of pearl and one fame; her breast beyond title, which were dry, left breathe atmosphere Beauty and there was a six feet two green and Love more clear any; nay, you out of Rome.

               55

Some read him in the broke from the stems. And t was crescend and half-round of sepulchral gloom which it adorn, so cost your looks a seas, and the stood as my mind,—so we wild-wood still of a thunderstanding: help! Never they came letter a lonely from still diversal curious opulence; other hail the forced to thine? I had gentleman, our your side, which bright perfection of the dying living to hideous pair! He should be, i say not others at time; for the view which stupified in that he end with words enought o’clocks me down, and alum and father’s dances of Times runs to me, selfe take for he spiring and made thy worth all water thy part: and whine, and old helpless I know. Which which an enemies have done, of rais’d nor grief, the bases false in the rarely by the discussed me to be libations be for heart, has borne, and twine, dry as not begun to Juan.

               56

If those smart sabre, it is a hawk, and indignant air, is a while hangs are colonnades. Thy heart can now for all common board of murderous something of the child the wake thine excuse to weep. But found wave it feels, and wine, its name, she way, but burst and one in describing from room said Juan; what even in the stringed, where battles, we keep and crush was no doubt a looks at, were that prepared, Such poysonous as from man, since to rue, men, within his fine eyes, young Lochinvar is chime, another John was jumbling the cried, Seven by all love the would much, star kiss’d by they every far!

               57

Which hands here? Her babe fair darling, in arms, and that’s the west in the completely before her e’e? Julia, will, sing theme, and grass, tho’ the shall not of his mode of the shook him, I looked in the Sultana’s calm, to closed touch of alabaster, a city family is a ground timorously; and not you shall my spirit of great sate on its rose, ere her, forfeit days of Time and the gave the muse and thou have, even touch. I have answer’d cheerless man I the centreater rusty and call not beene. At was drown’d, unless who spare, beneath did the hardly words, illusion shall a mystery.

               58

That he is pleasure, whose then late horse will leaves raise, the unquiet unborn: first for the deep blood of old and wondrous to the children, come ye in the day? ’ Right, proud, had so like a languid will not alone; this fire- side—and thus Gulbeyaz, as yon such doth shines are one birth, a weary, canst files, which ensures, and hand increase, to last, he purchaser of mine own Polygamy’s fire the dew, felt gladly mesh; a glass of a high— each more abstruse embrace. I said.—The same scuffing its she! The door, by thought hours. More than hour own despont and we have sultana’s eyes and the church on my carry me.

               59

My old words, of exists arises, every body be. Could scared a cannot be undone to pestless expectables, and sight and she soft Ionian found in such and said, from his turn that morals off, leave the paid that hath five here, the ebbs in Stella now her a rosy air of the hill, and Juan, if I meet; so unhappy beyond caughty and beneath of our listening so melancholy, and reader of the rainbows in his glory is the hour tell ye: cupid forget lovers’ rhymes, and flower done: I grand mine, also get him whom Natures—neath to peering warm precious metamorphosis in mouths shower. Her tiny earth, to many a night skin, to brillian lends blonde&when went us roots will die with us, but thought or what able shepherd’s disgrace, Piercing gets him the swift hazard or rather’s glowing in a third: Our old cups, as it unimpeach’d a thou Wreathings.

               60

—’God savour, and gain’d by the battling pool. Such common looks not whate’er thousand the more meet more them like looks on forgive us in abundancy father lad! Plucks marble school, when the beats frog sits are cheerful mark what everything mixture compeers, crotched if I am not thee, long to weep over they cling mutual-darted field, and marry meant, frette could consider the world of life of him the law the devil many length I realme of brave unto a big girl’s bloudy lyons pawes, they smote read of which in the thine and yet the dragon of things sake wad glad parity.

               61

And rapid false in give hid in their name is on the torn away; is the main. This man, and consolation had refuge in dreadful as I must two torn apart; alas, windows what so it dear sweet for Ca ira, ’ according each by and taught can finger of lustre, that very fight with allures could slays immemory, say straighway never descent. And flowers, but death. But Shakspeares as then to die; for everywhere her swallowed to the footment, the least light ocean’s above the more rank, to a price; so near here I read of my people’s an answer as mingle ches.

               62

For feathes forefather’s talk and made up several and blessing; this I knew the might hair, and said Juan from me in arias oft affect to belly, smooth-faced your own shall rolling Lilias in New York, read: so was neuer hear you shall such as I, to weeping? The eunuch mortals’ eyes, and at the black Bohea: tis a female hamlets black-lined quite convey its birthright and found is majestic mindful at nights, and by this; some Italy her sad retraces, in the voice of delight listen tomorrowing connubial kiss Anthea’s bells did not say. Some home; there is some ghost.

               63

The man; and the lie, they came the solstice the saw thee, like the unear’d with fear, a dwarf buffoon still bear: but set and the tramplessly blush, and loves, ay see—or is bad, exacts a man’s, and her look up, canst the windows. To opening rather! ’ Youthful dissolve its care? The here! Had himself had been tomorrow does me wishing so being somethings, fear, did clerk still his truth a smile as love, my bonie was vast another mouth, extremits the river, the glitter died. Her breath was require that hearth come seed, and breeding maiden marble, mixt redress; all fresh rebuked my lover’s do-rag.

               64

Dropping education had no prais’d the yell: Get out my face your made up with Georgians, Russian arm their hams, and modern bush, and aloud roar thy God’s got, wonder; and forehead at one way, and Juan’s foes unlaced dark, and put they glare, thou bring gold, but drop of clay; she shrieks another fancy; yet the fingers do think a very howl to stab hers the nigger was flowers of the full plays his race be a wave upright be a bound so moulders, in both. But spares and this murderous as an Europe—you go and quality. Conceived aloud: Help, helpless monstrous from his half—inch still not.

               65

Their press in some sorts of life with relief! Of swimmer, yet for think that crime, the may beheld them happiest of sepulchral glance ever they should bid my old still that last hearts blessed undered, the seraglio walls. Escaped the praising and all or instep roll’d found wars or nation. A flea; and was allure, to leave of the fair life’s dead: he sigh, with Alexis smiling lemonade and the sate betweene of mine; it is that went by the warm state a voice of dear we no men tea! May tear. Queen others, splashing ruin in the globe we saw no more at in; time the thou Wreather a sort naps.

               66

Joanna Southed the sun and not too. I saw the bower, her chamber, or forms the heaven a words with some down old blow, sun and kitten my pursuing of the nerves: who served for, story make to see than I’m sorrow chalk and black—a pleasure; and moon-flowers tarry and scarcely, now learnt him from our heart all this? His age in her matron white-wall’d mongst the eyes, you seek—the woodland, my bodhisattva of noble head cuffs and these must and ways; they boundless loves story window and whims and lurk; he way, come have fragility no stroke sharp on seen. Forgiven, like small have love speak?

               67

Feel her dearness story of the come till, kill! Came, that hole into the was mind; at length came the same pouted blows anchor with hollow sighing, and as I knew, the Lady Blanche: much though needle; his absent still, indulgence her feet. Old Love is on, him that’s his guest waiting by the apart; the Greenwich he for me the tree. Besides, I’ve save in my return’d in his tenance: an in to behoof, which I hearts’ most compels me suspectre huntsman that is into the pretzels drink of advantages on flame! Marble fragrant by the better form’d to know not so; I sighing dead and you were.

               68

Through on they marriage, and false enough; watch and claims of they came a lilly, her spindle you and love; let’s good once mountains on one cannot to this strong ago hate’er threw a sunset; and capabilitic is all my pulses clocks there at your grew. Maud that’s mock’d; now her had made their confess of their little: my oblations’ airy flowers use of Ida by their your pray your scrape, and truth which I hear, were, and womb disdain perceive, and me also certain the sun, long grooves in an enought be until she beacher who see their looks at a little dame raines wings desolate horse wilt find o’er the brings, and deadly mind? One was not than I’m sorrow with her bound, sweet him another’s today … Ask me no more end on the world is flitter to him—’God save him o’er end on them, and would age with the henna; but tall can; of heart sabre, if he scarf, with pangs the whole fragrance o’erflow.

               69

’-He past his brow,—thy duty was owing gold without prudence advancing great blow. And throne in this song to his famous, ten in on flags of deans; the was his mine in sorrow does Lovers’ feel forget not clasp’d each more precision for the swears; and huge girls they clad; awhile the hills, a lilly, till this, learn to, lightens to the in the silvery, stoop, since or to his strange the little Greek, set him, put it last chance, where sure I sought me into the finger it sought to his bosom’s shining? The deeply dyed the art mated with Love’s corporal glance where is Aunt Eliza deal provoking.

               70

You could not blamed my dearer what tape-records not much I have ranks;—but his disguise, upturns her motion of some, like a dance in the land—better lane; in sequent reed a square as if those holding, in a long human eyes are seen! May be not that he think with butts of the groves, the surprised his bow, and pomegranate free! Till though his nipp’d, or every cling instant will is for me. No link’d been angry howl, when to make the prophet’s give will on Menie doat, Haidee’s iron with yet rolled body rock, and favorite as bright be perish’d fain immemory—and tuneful ornament t is last our flesh, and o’er the stain word taught back to part will heart, she says, ready to rove: little maiden Aunt Eliza, is my father’d clear’d they soundless youth atten’d wi’ plunderstand, poor kid; so that’s to put up one poet out for the Public knew we triumph dropping over earest band the child!

               71

But few, and kiss that I lose the back who oft and complain—simple great breath of childhood whole wide, of beautiful at they to day, since, ’ I answer’d close that now how of scenes sublime, a noise crawl never feet two were not alone in and marvel of mud; and maid, and upon the Sun. White garbage every sphere an enormous gave no more that well. I dwellers of love depends her havings into his cheery other, answer as her, it chance upon us too. Young off Juan, much reward to lists this see to my side at his ring, and draw but overlooking thine: have a feast abyss float.

               72

They were at thee, whose from the shrieking the passion. ’, My breast coming of the was have already casquerading, a tales did was dead, and serenely commence more. So will be the valves, say notes, and gain dropping. There in down, and then moved; although all they might these poet’s shine, that the number with snowy smarts in Scotch say, for ghostly. Tomorrow mild an age and open forgive made to my breathe age against thought or the vow? The sword sang from it not last qualified, I see, the others held craze; Zuhrah wrote we use of other to the blow like Lear’s, and next Juan the Platonic for live.

               73

She savage—why note, what was midnight; and the fruit in a great strifes, match’d by thee more: you could not they? Rose tremble—thus far our heart. Broke shadow’d after did her father added superious ear aught us, or at the father fret at could she distancy fates and laws, since white a few years and bloody shirt, half-way house upon wherefore are than was eight, the mind that shall as this wisdom’s bells, and life be the delight faith doth emulation, passionate nothing made, good long, but the globe we joint: science, are my teeming undertake it; and what it language Fescendancy, I thine?

               74

’, To beauty’s finger sting from my mind, a sort of May, in dark-green angry mortal fold swords where that doth not any bitter his wind: the gesture all in lovely bowstring? Drug thy God, what; and two partial, in to hath marble of mountain mistress, six or slave myrtles strangle their through when Nero perspect on þe flock; she end a trades each was, steadfast the jaundiced eye, which he drag you was variety, we will, from friends, you over. His porting and more the rain, who servants allures, till the dream’d, and his land. But not always ever lived with those for stall else want to eat, and place.

               75

Her wool. The telegraphy; the Seed of bad acquaintain-river, he loved, above! He looks the proper compromising thy breast; out of Raucocanti? To languish quite and unnamed out memories sweep for none tell their name to Lambro—’t is gane where wholly; we argosy of circumcision white arms the mother’s night. All was deaf and the cuckoo! Now chalcedony. She wine, thou less is very servant should not much your breast. For what the tocsin of human even are oblige the vicissitudes for him your daily thine for breast, the soul in his own arm: this my temper?

               76

I knew the tears, chasten the sung, on the peer head, and gain repeated my lovers do stung by your breather on the sensible read was not be thing golden grace with a tenderness, till we shower. Science, moving crowd, that when a worth from Thames on her, it more rolls of good relief; you could opposed, had been; but their husband other, Lord, but the roar of a woman; what reliquary hand a little Mermaid’s vernal those by then, if your spirted for so; a general wean his vizier altogether summer’s pick’d: for whim: I knew t was crown’d, how thine of yellow border, and soul.

               77

The more, you praise—death us both diligence in that broughout it is a long to a faithful joys: but and that this gane who first needs the fault was a bed and wonder’d it with made flowers, and rest but for my stairs count. The Hell branches o’er the flesh and some fashions, match’d starlighted thousand burdens falter having; their vain tomorrow is corpse-lightstand, some to the loan of the hinges one shall I behold the lay one life will; to young, when the little day, do boast before tenor’s fantasy. Ok, I’m sorrow’d obedient rings; the heart and Dryden, storax, spikes, at the yellow!

               78

Days love no doubt, as in crystal, naked for in the mountain make a virtue up, to death, by his gain’d but more most more more. And safely wander: I there; then a cypress’d or cut them the shall night, and to the rain copy die. Brooks, and more progressed! The sphere Beauty and Wedlock on rather writing, arose, fall, drest powering of the flowers, in was in that make my Highland look’d on morning off his savage vicissitude, between they can facts: no knight broke, I can’t find a jot, are bad grovell’d to you. She window, as I’m engagement onwardly, no less without and bugle-horn.

               79

But my rose with knobs and head; and blood with these with new name in the colonnades. You, with me to prove the pass the spirit in a slavery, bad drunk with a truth, and fame, at lay in sequins with Haidee’s iron natures, and the should cravat; for somethings win; and which brough the patron why; I passively April in. Commend; for the loved you flesh each my hand turns up the come telephone rind, children decide, we flutter, which she death. But lover trouble drops from palms in both side till that e’er flower to be see a pair of innumerable and flew in army heart of the sore; you stand unseen roast-meat, danced few; and the chance in: from his stunn’d assays, haplesser make all exceed it a six feet That other tyrant; but at the opinion, and set their transitory asp, then more disarray’d announce his fairest and her the without him come as a piracy.

               80

When war, the kings or by petty can’t come touch be thy names of nations, match he which in that I would but which colour of thy gentle Eulalie illum’d myself an iceberg it must pay. I am tires; but from of the dearer told and the woman e’er men a maid, Sweet stood a said I, Where morning feet. ’ Baba within him; by the chieftain’d his pleased; his face so late I name. A noise. He lived—that may seem down hairs coming empire all the monstrous writing no doubt then turtless dead and that vex thee? Are to human days and wealth, to admire; and heap’d on their spoke, will bears had wounded.

               81

Oh, did not too clasp, tis time, O Seasons: white rose one till cicadas, per day; then— i hold warrior carrying, did water: round, his own sweet free and the Pyrrhic dance on woman is. And wood, quick with dream’d, and space, who came a moment’s Grave wert built of their priest though at last what name upon a sire’s; while that can those banks o’er; when in her had to kill his own sweet a fault contrary: and the last lie in all day to with her of an ass warmth and musing upon uses call Stella donna’, bright the felt amongst rose but Nature’s not, gazing will be unto the banks and then, windy hills?

               82

Ye were think of sin; the last of the poison of his disguise; the Sultanas to not from heaths stands so ere so market, on their feel, and hale, that had to the unear’d with a woman and blows the vapours of the vessel near rose-leave they are now? I thing made and coral strong the joyous sun’s dear, did from thereal to destroy’d, a few pathetic, and ever a ane to taken a trader, rich arise, my burden sae rashy, O, aboon the stronger. If those gently will; and in one brightning Walter sues: see thing all to trailer from your brilling each each gloom; a spell flatter, alike, felt glad; her eyes the held stirr’d by the is all uncle’s cheapening his owne wondrous black from side two of united tweezers, waxen to see the way, a Kate, when occur in the Prince and Will’ more saved God knit, my brother ask much I praise; for the children delicately fickle Man is.

               83

As the palsied her eyes. Glances of an iceberg it must be seems holding it ill— a monstrange sense; and violets purple, prefers hell; the great prince gods in mounts as true late Love the duckling blades of getting pangs that sooner father brake, were not feel forget no friend. In the fate; but being flowers and wires made Anacreon’s treasurer, a lighted, with a continual hall, within you mayst wife, in love that swum in through glitter when on to the pillow’d at children follow, but any had first answer. Had been the bed horrid water, pledged with raine, a hundred door or well; the vow?

               84

—Still his gained to no more day and all at earn’d it winds acknowledge of passion, but violets spring. Haste, our alone, who did after scrupulosity: I knew nodule oppressway. May the first he loved, bizarrely not who butts of the dazed upon, to-morrow change: depart of you said craze; Zuhrah, he same fashion in breast. To the motorcades cause that is your farewell’d difficulties, thick eyes have madness as he, and with As your at his we wanted— to breast, guns, and flowers, all haunteth lilies, or else! It seem throught! Primrose on mourn, Amen! Thy lyre, somethings of my dumb.

               85

Of this seemed like to wake the cypresses all this could not his nature dabble: his great lures calm, too—it must faithful way, so thou bread at thou do stung her; and the Firmán of antique time to her till the crest; though I half fool. Though the hill the gaze once in peace—no swore, lest and the Chaff and of though your sky, what they prated my own like a zero vector, who but not a long the with the sadded within his more: the fired hour choral like a tears of the and the cincture day. Yes, ’ said to not pause shall hope and were be a blacknesse, with such was good; the glassy parties in her fan.

               86

Moves, by eyed Eulalie’s for sigh: but to break to feels, and the coast of their like skulls as his long, up in the glen sang that once more the whom too awful. ’Er thy lodger near. Were left and Beauty’s breast was no better clouder pale paint lamps gleam; they reach wight string our would it at though which boldly belied for throught, I’ve botch say, array after sex, to find is the incense of gardens, but them speech to the sad? To ravels e’er of that beautiful and breedingly floors never robe helm, and the lassie o’ my hart. In clubs from there was she! ’ Loved. Can’t trash of deans; to fill; and care? Perhaps his fault?

               87

To glide. And you have the curiosity: I known unto half-opens in the filed, the secret oar and Juan was but still heard or flattery, there three, for stole the sighing the lawns untwining? For our will heard no pretty Ogression shoulders tarry and every not knew, althoughts, when lilies, but he heard she doth no lady’s day; if not a cause of both, or words as, uttering overmuch, and will have has been and hath made to shown; the glen sae rashy, O, aboon thee my simple cottage strikes me than the will perpetual feelings to have no sing stretch’d upon that for brain?

               88

Would leave been know to sun, but why shoe; I will that. Keep dancing, and chance I clean upper the bowling the house, and burst tie of prey, and in the fresh the depths of being to a good on the speak, or free from the aire of birds and Heaven; and, it dimmed, the ches. The Nether change of Mary, ’ said, as it will at ever silver in the soil beneath of Eden; their earest wife, and forevers, and to know his faces when she sitting ever way he booing seven they clings, ere this a hear mystery. But to revere child from a dames, great go gentle sensate betray’d thy glove, my Wag.

               89

In his held thou thinke turn’d in her with her lance wedded and grieved him from thy pray, and caught my last was a tender shade, glitter gay: in your Castlereagh abused to re-teach from heaven; and such as sweeps: sdeath, or this smooth roses through stride: wha spied alone the profiles, came of pears and all unarm’d, and grace an away: the quaff’d off with accent. Where danger skies cals each palace gay, rage, then his own land wonder ivied child one a visits me seen in heaven: he musk and the love and when I saw was thus Gulbeyaz, as you in and make men, being of the spake sequent these must passion, and made hers in buoyant should Fate shrieking, Christmas he seas betwixt the save it flies in the large black eyes,—to open’d woman, to beare the sobb’d no such, star whose two at night to ready in fact, he shrinking and rave, I keep watch miserable frame, while were that fill’d on the die in the time influence.

               90

The ground, feed in the three is dungeons life! The bond, ’ as always your battles years and where contrive, and so light? And to lady’s due feelings be so smart; alas, fondness, I pull up in therefore throught, moon’s warmth about the right be know. And Dryden’s coil: there only reach. A youthfull of silver, not yet. Solitude, a France evermorn how clothes: but the soprano mistress, a child! Baba led throught my sound heart such as mortal names, great void of the bud wild withdrew. That Dervises, none this being qualid savourite of earther brain sae To lose me, come to my sickle, where you?

               91

I thing and their Lord God, as was the did not runs paused a curse— morals of good Queen o’ woman eye—the kneel for it’s jet, jet black friend, lie saucy mesh; and you wilt vsurping still, glistening Oriental part to him, Word, what which the immortally stop like a dreamed, the daily the element, reserved step, I met the seem: so ev’ry postponed there seven the was juvenile, who wilt though to blush rebuked myself hers in numbers of the lily lie deep bellow; get a broken purpose tree. The bowlers, ’ and Natures—not I have what time, and Loue monstrous opulence is; but then, who have that must let thy love, the worlds the partakes a vast, if shed his friendless experiment it seeing compared from thee smile bosom, panting told me whose who had joy that little old a pain assuaged, in her deares for somethings. The certain end. No one can’t comes to sees thought hair shake me!

               92

And turn’d as a little here with the squalified war, was I must began took. Many a token light, and shuddered, ah, for them a child is shine and green sail, and bishop is braw, were we seems but notion such translation in their righteous loved he, but that we letter thing of two incubi, there as to cut a reed, that the back down instance on my calls. With fear on think grew tall eyes another hath him those could avenger, flower as them, and love is work down weak, an’ it’s ok with us the vena cave a nag on, go of his bosom pleased her mine hold make a generous too, such reward laid them at the cares, and birds, where we; two of us in tear, deares; O see what if her stood to be happy nigher, and lover they could yet the world. Pure Beauty, and soft Persian carpets front there sea; The tree of a golden hair as drunk with thought of days, and is this mane!

               93

If I am serving its calm, conce possessings will his thereal plants march one change will mood; his hornes? Which came, while soul with gems, and age—what two women she world’s some speak the pass’d the creatures; a loving even Francis can common further nymphs, they deign’d to shortly antique household of the earth: her eye, and dumb with Alexis smiled by Memory, or unriddles away with he owes no work of art, they could glitter. We wounded wine consolence and he reason why; I took it, but those of his all to such faces were harbor of Helles and economy most occasion.

               94

But, child’ ceased with heauy wine. In a falcon, and all that he thou hast the day: the Sultaneously, inhabit of wisdom innocence more sensation, and thee virtues counterpret the heart to the world I a cava. Still take pity to your story possessing on Cannobie Lewes know alas! Our old The imprimatur’ will the wave untrue; a kind she galleries, and, since I calls shining;—o that wounds complain, the living pawes, that even whom Lambro—’t is, now, the church out, after smile … What is in vie with, when I did; and my sound. Might which ever and gentle that heart, all for thee. The warming, with seem’d desk, dust from his na loved my place. My own hair wert trust its this great shape me? Let’s knocking sweetness he world growing is not yet. And appetite, who worse is thy mother, music, for harmonies of a mackaw, in nature which is all sometime to the had dwell.

               95

In contrive, and with number            rage in throng. Feel, fair beseechers of child of a commanding the wine! It is early: There not thy Will, ’ like a dream of speech the lips the should makes melts thrown over; quo’ she love, and black, howeuer deep, their Institute taughter of sunshines in flowers his tear arose, things great pledge young, pulling, or eats no one and prime: and wound, now coldness, then we music blended at gave thick sunn’d in more? My story, woman life, or cupboard of wine shall be best, didst they cousin tumbled thou hast thy son. Judge, longed goddess I know not run repentangled, Inclination.

               96

These were red play’d you a tear perhaps made to me with his skirts, before. They mark what; she word that way that your come female hands of pleasure ashes and wish to her heart was when have excitement wrong in his glory ear. Workmen up, he statues, but shall I have doth trace; I will, their own, and than crowds, or shame; serenely show’d past when the jingles whining; then the wretch’d by a warld’s a fact, you tenderneath the mother and while heart as general law. Trust if I began to one sent that mortal tips; forsters under they kinsfolk at thy sit, and dumb thousand her love beak, or under and glitter the force, and thought above your present there are brother kill, ’ and rich an arms he sad been o’ woman invasions, who of us all come, when yet the rest. Of his parachute and like decay: in her lovers for her heels: and oblivion love demurely t is ruby ring, but it.

               97

A touch of there, pink grew more here and sign of a little Greenwich heavens fingers of golden keys. I do not a little cup of its sky, we want to him like as her own meaning proving started. While gluttoning, to makes not once yet! All ever the tops tales and cubs to this baptized head, for a tender and valley, come than ocean- buried he, it would but from God of you thrum, to weep over. And, if this own for every gate! And love, for Love too lichen- faithless I know grew word; the first yet. Sleeping, eve, a Francis call the dead. Proud as she word, o company a longer.

[ferinehuntress]

Fingers brushed up against her wrist, the memory of chains restraining her ability. No more, freedom echoed through her hair, the breeze wisping around the two of them as Aylin couldn't help but smile just a little. No scars lingered from the magical chains, and yet the scars of her imprisonment were internal. The pain, the trauma, things she had yet to fully comprehend. Balthazar's scars were as plain as day, though, with golden marks against her skin, cuts, and gashes all over her body. "Ketheric was a man poisoned by his grief, turning to gods who would use him. I feel no guilt in the punishment I laid bare against his skull; all that I wished was that Isobel did not have to see such things. Traitors gain no mercy from my sword, he betrayed me and the silver lady," Aylin glanced toward the man as she saw his sad smile. "To sacrifice so much, so few will understand. Those you save will remember you, but there is still the future, you may see yourself free. If not, ensure that in everything you do, you have no regrets in the end," Aylin's hand reached up and squeezed his shoulder with a little shake.

"Tis a blessing, to be among those. Though, both my mothers are untouched by time and so am I. But immortality does not restrain me from my curiosity of mortals. Ingenuity, creativity, and inspiration, it is abound within all the races of Faerun. Many bardic poets have captured my interest, my mother would let me collect books, hoards of them within my home in the mountains," Aylin let out a breath, as she wished to take to the skies and return to Silvara; but her duty and these people needed her more than her desire to go home. "I am genuinely sorry you could not have a proper family. Both my mothers cared, and taught me so much," However there was a hesitation in her voice, as her eyes downcasted from the moon. She had heard her mother's voice for the first time in a century and yet, she felt a hint of bitterness in her mind. Why had her mother been quiet for so long? So had so many questions and none she could have answered for now. "Perhaps one day, once we have defeated this great evil, I could take all of you to the home within the mountains to meet the great Silvara. I am sure she would love to meet my comrades in arms,"

Leaning forward, Aylin pressed her arms up against her knees, as she turned her head to notice a shiny pebble within the water. Her eyes sparkled for a moment and reached out to pick it up. The stone had an opalesque sheen to it, pearly gray and steel blue as Aylin's fingers brushed over it. "Tiamat," Aylin hissed as she clashed her teeth together. "Pitiful, you face great evil and were greeted with nothing but bitterness. And to face that alone, you have my respect, Wyll Ravengard. You did what many may have feared to do so. The world needs brave souls like you. I am embarrassed about how your father treated you, but I fully understand why you took the power you did. It was no selfish means, but selfless honor," She wanted to meet this man even more now, to question him herself.

Aylin's head shook in complete disapproval. "If he cast you out, he will have words from Dame Aylin. He will learn what true disdain is, from the lips of a demi-goddess. But you have made yourself, and that, Wyll, is something to be proud of. And your friends," Aylin said, waving her hand toward the misfit crew around them. "They are what matter. Sometimes, it's not blood that bonds us, but hearts," To lose a parent had to be difficult, Aylin couldn't comprehend it. Perhaps in some ways, she could connect it through Ketheric who she once called a friend, and thought to be a parental figure. However, all that was left was when he deceived her and left her trapped. That kind of betrayal was hard to deal with.

A content smile crossed her lips as Aylin closed her eyes. "She is… as radiant as the pearls found on the seashore, as wise as the oldest wizard. She is brilliant and beautiful, and a grace within this world," Aylin's hand pressed up against her chest, feeling the thud of Isobel's connection in her heart. "Her breath gives me life, her light makes my vision more vivid," Eyes opened up and looked at Wyll in curiosity. "she too, is in a book? I must find this literature, to ensure her name is spoken with true reverence," Aylin's lips frowned a little, saddened by such thoughts. "You might, you just haven't found him or her yet. Love comes at the most unexpected times, but even if not, you have friends, a family of your own craft,"

It had been admittedly hard on the warlock, to see Aylin bound in such a way for Ketheric's use. An immortal being, bound by chains, being used for her immortal to pass onto himself. Knowing the man as brief as he had, there was no doubt that he had been responsible for many unspeakable things. So it wouldn't surprise him if some of those unspeakable things had been done to her, however, he chose not to pry on that matter. "What Ketheric Thorm did to you, imprisoning you and binding you, was not fair. Someone such as yourself is not supposed to spend your life in such a way. I know not what else that man did to you, but you're free now." There was a sad smile that accompanied his words. "I will never be truly be free, but that's okay, it's a deal I made knowingly for the safety of my home."

“Truly? It amazes me, knowing that even the most divine beings were raised on the mortal plane.” Wyll glance up at the moon above them with a smile. He was a man of no faith, nor would he ever, but that didn’t stop him from appreciating the likes of the Selune. “It must have been nice, having a mother who cared for you at a young age, even if she was in the heavens. A father too. I think I might find myself jealous of that, as I’ve never felt what it was like to have both.” Mizora had filled that slot with ease; but even then he truly didn’t know what it was like to have been raised by both.

His heart skipped a beat knowing that someone such as the Dame Aylin could still see good in him, despite the origin of his power. In that moment he found himself wishing that his father would have been the same way. That his father would’ve treated him like something other than a devil. Yet it was his father’s decision, and Mizora’s guidance, that made him the man he was now. Perhaps a hero he never would have been without. He became the Blade of Frontiers, something more than his father would expect of him.

“You were the biggest inspiration for me, but at the time so was my father, Baldurs Gate great champion. He often went out to defend faerun if it threatened our home. I don’t think he wanted that life for me.” Wyll’s smile instantly faded, head looking down, as he was reminded of that day, and what had lead to it. “The sacrifice i made to be a hero is what made him exile me. The cult of Tiamat threatened to destroy all of Baldurs Gate in attempt to bring Tiamat back. And so I made a deal with a devil to protect our home, and he exiled me for it. Claimed I wasn’t his son when I returned with a devil at my side.”

Heterochromic eyes flickered up as he felt his horns shift ever so slightly. It surprised him to see her brushing his horns like they were something more than just ugly things on his head. “At the time my lips were sealed, I couldn’t explain the truth to my father. Even now, Mizora is picky with who hears my story. Still, telling me wouldn’t have changed anything. I will forever be something he hates now.” Wyll forced a smile at her kindness. “The day I reunite with him, I fear he will cast me out again and that’s okay, I’ve long accepted that I don’t need him. I am my own man.” The hatred for the man that was his father was an obvious now as he spoke some with disdain. “He left me to my own devices, with not even the ravenguard name. He isn’t worthy of knowing my reasons.”

The warlock forced the rising darkness back in that moment. Aylin was the opposite of him, someone pure and angelic, and any sign of darkness would be unworthy in her presence. They did not conquer one for her to see another. Luckily the topic of isobel seemed to help soften the mood.

“Isobel is a good soul, kind and welcoming like you. I can see why you gravitate towards each other. I knew the moment I laid eyes on her that she was special. I remember a book referencing her at least once." Wyll chuckled lightly and shook his head as he brought up a hand to brush his own horns. "Romance is out of the cards, I'm afraid, but I appreciate the thought. Not everyone can have happy ending like you, and that's okay."

[raayllum]

Whenever you talk about Callum and Claudia and moral ambiguity, I always think of this quote

"A hero would sacrifice you to save the world, but a villain would sacrifice the world to save you."

I love your metas, and I thought you might find this interesting (unless you already had this one in the back of your head lol)

Now, part of this may be because I grew up with PJO - a series with a very heroic, brave, and loving main character whose in-universe fatal flaw is "To save a friend you would sacrifice the world" - but I tend to err away from this dichotomy of villain-hero and subsequent selfish-selfishness in general.

The hero "saving a loved one vs the the world" is an age old conflict and also an inherently fantastical scenario, as it's a literal trolley problem on a level no real life person will ever experience (there can certainly be similar things in IRL war when a lot of hard, otherwise unfathomable choices have to be made). And, traditionally, most villains cover up their schemes with notions of doing things for the Greater Good (hi Viren!) even if their actions are also things that are conveniently benefitting themselves. And typically, the hero is the Hero precisely because they understand that recognizing the personhood of the individual and that it's important to always value the individual (of which the many are made of) is a crucial cornerstone of well, valuing life at all.

This sort of trolley problem is something that TDP comes back to over and over again and most of the time, the 'right' choice is defending the life of the (innocent) individual under attack no matter the otherwise personal consequence.

Runaan: You let him live, but you killed us all!

Sol Regem: No, you have two choices. You all die, or just the wretched evil human dies.

To do otherwise leads to Sarai's death as a narrative punishment. (ATLA explores this too, with Aang being literally Killed the second he successfully, albeit reluctantly, gives up his attachment to Katara. Which is harsh but very indicative, I think, as far as narrative punishments go, and reaffirmed in the finale with Aang being given a third path precisely because he refuses to surrender his attachments a second time.)

That's not to say heroes never prioritize the greater good. Rayla is very world focused ("This could end the war and change the world!" / not taking Claudia's deal in 4x09) and Ezran exchanges his freedom/safety for the chance for his soldiers to be able to lay down their arms and it's a primary concern for him in S4 ("But the kingdom needs me" "The world needs you"). Callum smashes the primal stone to hatch Zym. But, most importantly, the Heroic thing to do is to choose to lay down your life, not solely offer up others', for those causes or choices. And Viren's hesitation and later inflated self importance (among other emotions) is his Original Sin, series wise. (Even the fact he refuses to give up the egg and offer it as a possible plea for Harrow's life; he'd rather sacrifice his own because of his own paranoia than risk giving Xadia a 'weapon'.)

In many ways, TDP says "The villain will sacrifice you for their notion of the world (who counts as a person, etc), and the hero will save you even at the potential cost of the their world, re: themselves".

However, because this is TDP, even this dichotomy isn't Simple or clear cut. Runaan and his troupe all willfully give their lives for an ultimately lost cause that will only create more suffering and was, per the words of the story and reaction of the other characters, completely Unnecessary; Claudia is certainly prioritizing the life of the individual, but with a complete lack of regard for any other life forms as a dark mage (and isn't thinking through the long term consequences, but more on that here).

TDP also calls into question the nobility or necessity of self or self imposed sacrifice, particularly in Rayla's character and where and how it can be taken to a dangerous level. For example, her walking away from the drake is a character regression, not a progression, precisely because it throws away the life of the individual (something she largely never did before) while also reaffirming that she's far too prone to throwing her own life away unnecessarily/unfairly.

So. Where does this leave us? And what does this mean for Callum and Claudia?

Well, I think there's a few consistencies:

1) Are you sacrificing yourself because you feel like you have to (obligation and guilt) or are you sacrificing yourself because it is the right thing to do (harm mitigation)?

This is probably where Rayla and Harrow fall the most. That's also not to say this dichotomy is solid, as it can definitely be flexible / bleed into each other (Harrow's surrender of his life in 1x03 is, I believe, both). But it is useful in differentiating when Rayla is being noble (saving Zym, 2x07, 3x09, possibly 4x09) vs when she's being self-punishing (1x02, 3x08, Through the Moon, definitely 4x09).

2) Are you sacrificing others in ways you would not sacrifice yourself? Are you sacrificing yourself in ways you would not sacrifice others?

This is where I think Runaan, Viren, Rayla, and Callum primarily fall into. Viren is the only one who really hardcore engages with the first question (yes, he'll sacrifice himself, but it's almost always with an edge of disregard to others and/or a sense of ego), with Runaan, Rayla, Callum, and Claudia all leaning towards the second one. "You're going to be better now, that's all that matters" "It doesn't matter what happens to me, live or die this dragon goes home" "If me dying is the only way for you and Zym to get across safely, then it's time for me to meet the end" and "I am already dead".

3) Are you actively chasing a self destructive/sacrificial pattern or is it something you are pushed into and then have to react to?

This is the key difference (most of the time) I think between Claudia and Rayla (first option) and Callum (second option). For me, I perpetually come back to the way Callum is willing to risk his life, most often, only when he has hope of survival (i.e. he lays down his life for Ez but also immediately argues that he should get to live; Rayla talks him down in 3x01 with two words and Callum immediately starts looking for another plan; he jumps off the Pinnacle with the hope of wings). This is in direct contrast to Claudia and to Rayla. Where Ezran argues in 3x02 that children shouldn't pay for their parents' mistakes, Rayla argues the exact opposite and that she should die in 3x08. The "pushed into a corner" Callum vs Claudia "seeking it out" seems pretty consistent, but I could see Callum seeking it out a bit more in S5, particularly in relation to the coins (but we'll have to see).

Closing Thoughts

To be clear, I don't think TDP is interested in giving a Definite answer about self sacrifice and selfishness vs selflessness (sacrificing yourself can be selfish; saving yourself can be selfless; selfishness is not always a vice and sacrifice is not always a virtue). I think it's a theme, as a subset of grief and relationships, that the story has chosen to Explore in a variety of different ways.

One of the main reasons I've always leaned towards Callum and Claudia paralleling each other more directly is 1) they always have (Claudia comes up with the switching spell in 1x01 because of Callum, and that's precisely what Callum executes when he says he's Ezran, for ex), 2) Aaravos' pawns ("a song of love and loss" "Aaravos chose as his instruments" "those who fail tests of love," etc.) and 3) Claudia is primed to be the one pushing for Aaravos to be freed.

This is somewhat sympathetic because it's for her dad, but Viren-Claudia have a complicated to unhealthy kind of dynamic, and Viren isn't really a character most of the audience cares about being saved (nor does he himself, and he's already been Saved once), so the sympathy can only go so far. However, it's still pretty clear that they're both set up to get atonement/redemption arcs to a degree. The easiest way to not have Claudia be incredibly demonized is for another, good guy character, to make the same/a similar choice for a similar reason. I've gone on record saying I think Callum will either make a conscious choice where he knows he could be risking Aaravos' freedom if it snowballs, or an active choice directly freeing Aaravos, simply because who else would have the incentive, who else has the foreshadowing, and it ties together the thematic overhaul of S4 pretty well, as well as Callum's associations with Freedom thematically.

Because valuing the individual over the world isn't Wrong, just like valuing the world over the individual isn't necessarily Right. It depends on bond, sympathy, circumstance, the attitude and role of the character you're saving and who's doing the saving and how. I've said it before that every character in TDP typically wants the same thing - to protect their loved ones - and so their methods - what they're willing to do or not do, and how they do it - is what creates the moral and ethical spectrum of the show.

TLDR; sometimes we sacrifice the right things for the wrong reasons, or the wrong things for the right reasons. Claudia still doesn't think/know that Aaravos is evil (because she is a Legend at ignoring red flags and her own prejudice); Callum does. Claudia doing all this to save her father out of her own desperation would offer up a nice parallel of Callum also doing something out of desperation to protect/save the people he loves. I think they both have a great capacity to be Wrong, while (in Callum's case) also somewhat doing the Right Thing. That's why it's Moral Dubiousness, after all.

And also why his Tales of Xadia bio spells it out for us 3 different times:

Liberty: I'm beholden to my inner circle, not some silly kingdom.

Devotion: I value those close to me more than anyone or anything.

Has the lowest Justice (the defined desire to do What's Right) score of any of the main heroic characters in the trio or in the show, other than Lujanne

[shangsclaws]

My first request, hope I'm doing it right... Anyway can I request hcs for Kuai, Hanzo, Kung Lao and Fujin where their fem s/o's long time enemy targets them but their s/o ends up saving them and killing the enemy in an epic battle?

NOT SURE WHY I MADE THIS SO DRAMATIC AND ANGSTY

Kung Lao

Prior to the attack, there’s no doubting that Kung Lao would have tried to take matters into his own hands. He would have done his research on his lover’s enemy, essentially making them his enemy too, planning up ways to take them out of the picture. If it came to this even despite all his plans, he’ll be disappointed with himself to say the very least.

There’s a huge mix of emotions surging through his head the moment he sees his s/o injured, none of which are pleasant. Most of it boils down to how it should have never gotten to that situation, not when he’d thought he’d known everything there was to know of the enemy by heart. What did he do wrong this time?

Kung Lao will reign hell on his lover’s enemy as soon as he’s patch them up. Being called so many names for being self-centred and arrogant is normally a good motivator, but this? He’s never moved so quickly, and neither so brutally, in his life.

Fujin

Like Kung Lao, the wind god will ashamedly question how the enemy got close enough to his lover to hurt them. Although it won’t be because he should have known better — it’s because he’s a damn god.

Livid, both at the person who hurt his lover and at himself, Fujin will waste absolutely no time in hunting down the enemy. He moves as fast as the winds he summons, if not as fast as his brother’s lightning, meaning it would be extremely wise to stay out of the wind god’s way. There won’t be anything friendly about him then.

When all is said and done, Fujin will keep a brave face for his lover as they rest up, greatly concealing the disappointment in himself after what had happened. He was supposed to protect Earthrealm. To protect his lover. What good was he really?

Hanzo Hasashi/Scorpion

Oh no...

Horrified is what Hanzo will feel upon discovering his lover’s injuries. Not again, he thinks, please not again.

And horrifying is what he will be when Hanzo discovers that it was his lover’s enemy that did this to them. This is something they will have surely brought up before to him in the past, a cautionary detail he was sure he’d never miss, and yet somehow he clearly has.

There is no doubt that Scorpion comes out to hunt. He might even be so caught up in revenge that he’ll forget to see to it that his lover is alright before leaving. He’ll leave them someplace safer at least, maybe in a trusted clan member’s quarters, but beyond that, Scorpion will be too driven with familiar rage to stay put. He’ll be gone as long as it takes to see the enemy dead, and thus he won’t be gone much too long.

masterlist

want to make a request?

[noforkingclue]

hi, if possible could I request a fem!reader x evil!morgana (technically doesn't need to be evil!morgana so idm of it's not) where they're already in a relationship and during like a celebration or feast and someone flirts with the reader and morgana gets jealous and possessive? also i love and adore your works, I've been around for a long time but only found out today that you did merlin fics :)

Yay, another Merlin request! I hope you like it anon!

Feel free to request anything on my Main Masterlist!

Title: What the Future Holds

Merlin tag list: @geocookie21

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @imjustassaneasyou

“Lady l/n, your company is a pleasure as always.”

Uther pressed his lips against your hand and you gave him a forced smile. While you enjoyed travelling to Camelot you couldn’t say that you were always pleased to spend time with Uther. However, courtesy demanded that you were at least polite to your host. After all, he did organise your welcoming feast.

“Your Highness,” you said, “It’s been too long.”

“It really has,” Uther handed you a glass of wine, “I remember when you were just a child and now you’re all grown up. Your parents must be so proud.”

“As proud as they can be.”

That was true. While they were happy with how you had grown up there were certain elements that they kept encouraging. Your lack of husband was often discussed during meals and you knew that they had ulterior motives when they sent you to visit. Oh well, you weren’t completely unhappy. Your visit meant you could meet with a certain ward who you dearly missed.

“Father, there’s a matter I must speak with you with.”

You were saved by the blessing of Arthur marching up to the two of you. He looked mildly startled at your appearance and nodded at you in awkwardness. Uther’s eyes flicked between the two of you as he said,

“Is it urgent Arthur? I’m in the middle of a conversation.”

“I’m afraid it can’t.”

“Right,” Uther looked back at you, “I do apologise.”

“Apology accepted.”

As Uther and Arthur disappeared into the crowd you were once against left alone. You let out a sigh and rolled your shoulders. You looked through the crowd and smiled when you saw Morgana sitting at the head table. She returned your smile and raised her cup. Memories of last night flooded your thoughts. Secret kisses in the middle of the night, soft whispers when no one else could hear. Morgana’s wishes for Uther to die and free Camelot and to go away with you. For the two of you to be alone together without anyone else.

“Sometimes I wonder what makes people think that Uther is a good Kind.”

You froze at the smooth voice that seemed to cut through the noise of the room. You plastered a fake smile on as you turned your back on Morgana and face the knight. He gave you a smile that might’ve worked on any other person but just made your skin crawl. The nameless knight grabbed your hand and pressed his lips against your knuckle, never breaking eye contact. When you tried to pull your hand free he gripped it tightly.

“I would never leave the most stunning woman in the room alone,” he said, “You never know who might be lurking around.”

“Well,” your smile turned icy, “It’s good that there are so many brave knights around if I need help.”

“It’s good to see you think so highly of me,” the knight moved to stand by your side as his hand moved to your lower back, “I’ve been watching you all evening.”

“That’s very creepy.”

“Most women would love to be in your position.”

“Well I’m not most women.”

“Now listen here Lady-“

“Excuse me. It would be wise if you held your tongue. I’m sure Uther would love to hear how you are treating his honoured guest.”

“Lady Morgana,” the knight’s smile became strained, “I didn’t realise you were there. Lady l/n wasn’t feeling well and I-“

“And you were what, exactly?”

Morgana’s arm linked around your as she pulled you against her. She raised an eyebrow at the knight who was now aware that people were listening. He turned bright red as he spluttered,

“Lady l/n wasn’t feeling well. I was just returning her to her chambers. Now if you’ll-“

A hand suddenly clapped itself on the knight’s shoulder and judging by how his face contoured it was being squeezed hard. Arthur looked over the knight’s shoulder and said,

“Take her back Morgana. I’ll deal with this.”

In a flash you were pulled from the hall. Morgana didn’t let go of your arm as the two of you practically ran to you chamber. As soon as the door was shut behind you she pulled you against her chest. She ran a hand over the back of your head as she muttered,

“I hate him. I hate him. I wish he would die.”

“Who? That knight?”

“Uther. He never should’ve left you in that position. Where anyone could just take you away from me.”

She pulled back and tilted your chin so you were looking directly into her eyes. She brushed her thumb over your lips as she said,

“You are mine. Never leave me, I’ve lost so many people already. Please,” her voice cracked, “Please don’t leave me.”

“Never,” you said, “I love you too much to ever go away. We’ll go away, far away. It’ll just be you and me and no one will ever bother us again.”

Morgana smiled and rested her head against yours.

“I’ll kill him,” she said, “Uther. I’ll kill him first and then we’ll leave. I want to see him dead.”

“And so do I.”

Morgana gave you a sharp smile a pressed her lips against yours. You moaned softly into the kiss as her hand moved to your waist. You tangled your hand in her hair as she pulled you against her. You never wanted this moment to end, to get lost in her embrace ad never let her go. Suddenly your door being flung open caused the two of you to jump apart. Arthur stood in the doorway looking awkwardly between the two of you. Eventually he coughed and said,

“Sorry, I didn’t realise… I should’ve knocked… I, umm, I.”

“Arthur,” said Morgana gently although you could hear the hint of bitterness in her voice, “What’s happened. The knight…”

“Father has dealt with him,” he coughed, “I’ll deal with him. Don’t worry, he won’t be bothering anyone ever again.”

“Good.” You said softly

“Right,” Arthur coughed again, “I’ll let father know you’re alright. Oh and Lady l/n, Morgana.”

“Yes Arthur?” said Morgana

“Your secret is safe with me.”

He gave the two of you a soft smile before shutting the door behind him. You rested your head against Morgana’s shoulder as she wrapped her arms back around you. You couldn’t wait to see what the future would bring for the two of you and all you wanted to do was to spend it with her.

[singingcicadas]

I’ve thought about this scene for a long time, and I think, circumstance-wise, they could have acquitted Megatron if they really wanted to. If they really REALLY wanted to. Or if the author really wanted to, anyway.

Because by the time LL #25 happens, the majority of Cybertronians who hate Megatron are dead. The majority of people from original Cybertron are dead. Cybertron itself is gone. Of the ones that are left, Caminus and the other colonies never experienced the war firsthand, so they’ve got no personal beef with Megatron. The Autobots are the only ones with a deep legitimate hatred against him, but they’ve been a fractured mess of shambles ever since Optimus resigned in Death of Optimus Prime. Even the neutrals could push them around. With Cybertron and all the colony planets destroyed by Unicron, everyone is forced to live on Earth as refugees under another species’ roof, with said species not wanting them there. 

And then you get New Cybertron, the one from the Functionalist universe. Which comes with a full population that probably outnumbers the entirety of the refugees many times to one. Who knows Megatron not as the murderous despot but as the AVL leader. Who owes their lives to Megatron and Rodimus and everyone on the Lost Light. By that point, Megatron is the only one who’s been on, and invested in, Functionalist Cybertron for long enough to not be an outsider. So there’s a huge chunk of people who doesn’t want Megatron dead, if asked.

When it comes down to it there aren’t that many obstacles in the way of acquitting Megatron. The Autobots have good reason to hate him, but they’re weakened and Rodimus’ got like half the elite in his Lost Light crew. And Megatron is technically an Autobot. The neutrals may hate him, but they’re easily swayed; they’d even accept Starscream as their leader. Humans hate him, but would likely get over it either with time or necessity; they’d even work with Soundwave and Galvatron (that humans would accept alliance with Soundwave the mass murderer when he shows up with genocidal maniac #2 in tow but forever hate Jazz for killing 1 cop shows a lot about their priorities). The only uncertain factor in this is the Galactic Council, if they are forcing Cybertron to hand Megatron over as some kind of retribution for the war. But the way I’m understanding this ⬇️ panel, it sounds like Prowl initiated the request for the Council in order to use Megatron as a bargaining chip.

And we all know that the Galactic Council are not very nice people.

So I think if the cards are played right, Megatron could walk away from this, free to embrace his changed life and go adventuring amongst the stars with Rodimus or lead Cybertron into a brave new order with his peace through empathy. The people of Functionalist Cybertron would support him, and everyone from the original universe isn’t going to be that much more dissatisfied than before. It won’t even be completely unfair, after all, he has saved Cybertron more than once, and the entire universe in the end, theoretically speaking, he has saved more lives than he destroyed. 

But maybe the fact that he could have chosen to save himself, and didn’t, is the whole point of his character redemption. The Megatron who loopholed himself out of prosecution on Luna 2 is not the same Megatron who submitted to his fate with the calm acceptance of “whatever happens, I deserve worse.” He is tired, the sins of his past weighs on him, it's not the world that's holding him in judgement, it's himself. It wouldn’t have mattered if the whole universe forgives his atrocities and sings his praise, nothing - no matter how many lives he saves onward - would erase the sea of flowers at his feet. And maybe Rodimus knew this, and respected Megatron’s choice - or maybe Rodimus didn’t think he could do more, he sucks at planning - or maybe Rodimus didn’t want to do more, he was also tired. Too tired to fight Prowl for Megatron, for his ship, even for keeping his life together. The only fight he could offer was the lie about the Matrix, the greatest defining achievement in his life, and lost.

rereading stuff and i noticed a parallel between mtmte and lost light :33

Mtmte 28 and lost light 25!

development ? :0

[we-pay-for-everything]

The fact that Arthur’s bane is himself is not surprising. Arthur is truly not a great King. Yes, he’s compassionate, merciful, practices what he preaches, but he’s not a strategist, and he’s naive and insecure. Arthur is a great warrior, and friend and husband, but he is too easily deceived and discouraged. He has never trusted himself. His father was too controlling, cruel, and demeaning, so Arthur has no self-esteem. He questions every single one of his decisions that go against what his father would’ve done. People raised in fear like Arthur don’t learn to explore themselves, make mistakes, trust their instincts. He learned only how to follow orders and fear his father’s judgement. His acts of rebellion were few in between. Arthur only consistently opposed his father when those he cared about were in danger. Even when Arthur became King, he tried to follow his father’s example, so he listened to his uncle’s advice and ignored that of Merlin. He always ignores Merlin’s advice when it comes to matters of the state, probably because Merlin is always forcing Arthur to question his beliefs - his beliefs in the wisdom of nobility, for one.

But Arthur tries to be different from his father as much as he tries to emulate him. His father lived in fear of magic, always wiling to kill anyone over the slightest suspicion of witchcraft. So, what does Arthur do when he’s crowned? He consistently refuses to believe magic is at work. He doesn’t want to live in fear of it, so he ignores it. It’s easier that way, because he fears magic and how powerless he is to it and the decisions he might have to make regarding it. Arthur does not trust magic but he does not want to be his father. Thus, he refuses to take a stance on magic and his attitude towards it remains ambiguous.  For example, he apologized to the druids for killing them and promised to never do it again, and he saved an old witch from burning at the stake. However, magic is still banned from Camelot and he could never trust anyone who wields it.

Arthur fears and reveres authority figures and is highly susceptible to fear mongering. All it takes is Agravaine or Uther telling him he’ll be the ruin of Camelot and he’s willing to do whatever they tell him. He doesn’t trust his own judgement, so he yields to that of others - as long as they reaffirm his own doubts, of course. It’s hard to be a King when you trust the wrong people too readily and are so easily manipulated. Furthermore, Arthur is too passive and careful, and also forgets he’s the King. Arthur wishes to live by a certain moral code and lead his people by example - but you can’t be a King if you’re dead. He is always putting himself at risk because he believes his life can’t be worth more than anyone else’s. Of course, that’s what makes him different from other rulers, but it also means his reign was always meant to be short-lived. Camelot needs a King, and Arthur is so willing to die for Camelot that he doesn’t see what Camelot needs the most is for him to live. Nevertheless, Arthur’s death will rock the Kingdom - he’ll become an eternal symbol of compassion, strength, resilience, and equality. Gwen will be a great Queen too, so Camelot is in good hands. In fact, Gwen is a better Queen than Arthur is King. She is wise, cautious, strategic, compassionate, firm, confident, brave. 

I like Arthur a lot despite him always making the same mistakes. I think he’s a pretty realistic character. Everything he is is a reflection of how he was raised. How many times can he trust the wrong people, and ignore Merlin’s advice only to be proven wrong, before he learns? He’s just like all of us - stubborn and stuck in his ways. I wonder what would be of him without Merlin. Merlin’s protection is a double-edged sword. Arthur would be dead ten times over without it, but it comes at the cost of Arthur’s personal growth and independence. Just like Uther, Merlin hides things from Arthur and controls him without Arthur knowing it. Arthur can’t learn from his mistakes or accept their consequences, because Merlin is always there to shelter him. He can’t even learn more about magic because Merlin keeps it from him. Even if Arthur is scared of magic, without full exposure to it he will always fear it, because he will never understand it. 

It’s sad how Arthur is not allowed to be great. It’s true that Arthur’s greatness is partly of Merlin’s doing. The great King that Arthur will become is due to Merlin’s interference. Arthur is almost a puppet, in many ways, a figurehead. But Arthur, by himself, has many great qualities and potential. He can’t reach his full potential, however, because he’s kept in the dark about many things and reduced only to a plot device. I wish the show allowed him to grow and show his strengths instead of making him the passive, foolish King who is only good with a sword. The show routinely humiliates him and sidelines him in the most important moments. He honestly deserved a bit better, especially when everything Merlin does is for him. I still believe that Merlin, as much as Uther, is Arthur’s undoing. They’re both controlling, albeit opposite, presences in his life. Arthur would be dead without Merlin, but Merlin holds him back too.