#this shall be buried in the dirt of 4 am

[animentality]

Depression and ADHD took away my ability to enjoy novels a long time ago, when I was 18.

I used to be a big reader. Ever since I was a kid, I'd plow through hundreds of books a year, no joke, no hyperbole. I was raised by an older mom, who didn't let me watch TV or use the internet until I was about 12, so books were the thing I loved most, aside from games I could play on the Gameboy Advanced or the SP or the Nintendo DS.

But books I could read under the desk at school. Books I could smuggle more places. I always had a hyperactive imagination. It was like watching a movie or a tv show in my head. I was a child perpetually lost in day dreams and fantasies.

I could read anything at all. Romances, historical fiction, fantasy, science fiction, literary.

I snapped up just about any story I could get my hands on.

But then I became a teenager, and then I showed symptoms of depression.

And I still read books, but in lesser numbers.

I read less and less every year.

And then I went to college. And then things just got worse.

I stopped watching movies, which were something I used to adore. I couldn't, literally could not, watch TV shows. I couldn't muster enthusiasm for anything at all.

I played video games, but they didn't make me happy. They didn't stimulate my imagination or give me joy.

They were just something I could use to while away my time in between the agonizing bouts of loneliness and apathy.

If I didn't have them, I would just be lying in my bed, in the utter darkness, staring up at the ceiling, wishing there was something, anything at all, that I cared about.

So I got my BA and master's degree, and all the while, every day, I asked myself why I did anything at all. Why I was not happy.

Why I didn't care about anything.

Just about the only thing I cared about was the books I was writing, and even them, I felt this horrible notion that they were all I had, and yet, that was nothing. They were as empty as I was.

So anyway.

One day, I started researching bridges to throw myself off of.

And uh. Well. Not to go into any gory details, but there was one friend I had, a long distance internet friend, who got concerned and sent some of my more troubling messages to my mom.

Who then took me to a hospital. And anyway, that part actually isn't important. All that matters is that I got medicated.

And the world sort of turned itself over, and I could start over.

And then suddenly the world wasn't brighter, it wasn't happier, but I could feel things again.

I could have interests. I was interested in everything, the way I used to be.

And then I started to love movies again. and then I started to love TV shows again (Cocaine Bear and Severance come to mind first, not sure why, but that's irrelevant, I guess).

And finally, we come back...to novels.

So this year, I have been reading books. Great books. Some bad books.

And some wonderful.

And I just wanted...to talk about The Night Circus.

by Erin Morgenstern.

Because this book...was breathtakingly good. Like.

Like...I have been out of practice.

I have been reading some decent books. Books with great premises, but disappointing follow throw.

Some great books, but with predictable twists or rather tired prose. Books that I liked, but won't think about again.

And then I read Night Circus. And suddenly, I...I knew what it felt like. Again.

For the first time in maybe seven years, I suddenly remembered this feeling I used to have, as a child, hiding behind a bush during recess, and reading Redwall or Animorphs or Goosebumps.

I was almost giddy with the feeling, it was like stepping back in time.

Back to before I started hurting, and even before I started feeling nothing at all, and everything felt so bright. So filled with lively colors.

I was vibrating, I was so emotional, I was so invested.

I literally was about to go to bed at 2 am, a reasonable time, but the Night Circus picked up, and it was suddenly so imperative that I finish it right now. I could NOT tear myself away.

And I am close to tears.

Not just because the book was wonderful and sad.

Honestly, this is hilarious to me, but as much as I loved the book, I still found myself criticizing some of its makeup, specifically slow pacing and some of the meandering. There was also a somewhat anti climatic solution to a problem that I sort of wish had been explained sooner as a possibility.

But honestly, it doesn't matter at all! All that mattered was that it thrilled me! It fascinated me! It spoke to me directly and grabbed a hold of my heart.

It tore me away from what I was planning on doing and dragged me into its world, in its pages, and I was moved by the book!

It's so fucking hard to move me! Especially a novel.

Movies and TV shows can move me much easier, because there's something so very human about needing to see faces, hear voices, experience the raw emotions through a screen that captures it all.

But this novel....Night Circus...oh my god, I had not felt so powerfully fond of a story in a long time.

I finished it, and I thought, this was what it was like, being ten...and yet, at the same time, as familiar as it was, it was also something new.

This was rediscovering something beautiful and lovely and old and new. It was drudging up the past, while creating something worthwhile, in the present.

It was the good kind of hurt.

It'll stay with me forever.

I was so happy. I am so happy.

I never expected to love this book so much.

I honestly don't even care to call this a review. I almost don't even want to talk about the specifics of its plot or its world or anything.

I just wanted to talk about how wonderful it felt to be so immersed in anything again.

To fall into a book and never want to leave its pages, and to be jarred by reality, when you realize it's over.

I am so glad to be happy, after that long dull period where nothing mattered.

I am so happy to be here. I am so happy to be alive.

To watch a good movie, to see a good show, to write novels where good things happen, where love and despair and joy and misery all happen.

To read a spectacular book, late into the night.

If I die tomorrow, I will be most disappointed, but at least, I could experience the best things in life again.

At least, I remembered in the night before my passing, what it felt like to be inspired and shaken by the creation of another person, to be touched by art, that moves you and changes you irreversibly.

I want to read more.

I want to be alive for as long as I possibly can.

I want to see the world change and I want to live every day of my life and I want to watch every good movie and every good tv show, and I want to read hundreds of books again. I want to write thousands of books.

And I don't know how you, in particular, found me or this post, but I hope whoever you are, you're also doing things that you like.

I hope you find that story you need. or make the story you need.

I hope you remember this feeling, and experience this feeling for the first time.

Maybe Night Circus is your book, maybe it's not, but either way, I wish it upon all. Upon everyone.

Read, write, draw, watch, create.

Do it all, and then do none of it, and go the fuck to sleep.

[exhausted-archivist]

Six-Song Soundtrack Tag Game

I got tagged by @chanafehs, thanks for giving me a reason to talk about an oc! Thanks @shivunin for making the game!

Rules: If you're tagged, make a new post with links to music and/or lyrics describing the following: 1. An event that defines your character's past 2. How your character sees themselves 3. How others view them 4. Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic) 5. A major fight scene 6. End credits song

Soundtrack for my Warden Brynne Tabris below the cut.

An event that defines your character's past

(I think it is a little easy to figure out when this event is)

Woke Up A Rebel Ruben And The Dark

I am wild, I am lost I am sick, I am damned But I am holding redemption in the palm of my hand So I tighten my fist And sharpen my teeth It's a promise I made It's secret I keep I am lookin' for trouble And trouble I will find You will get what is comin' I'll take back what is mine I'll set fire to this dream I'll set fire to this dream And I will rise

2. How your character sees themselves

Flesh and Bone Black Math

Buried, banging at your door Don't hear a sound, don't know me anymore A bell that tolled to comfort me An empty street, a rising steam Break the truth inside of me Climbed down to hell on the devil's tree I clutched a branch of soot and flame The thought that rose, to scorch my feet

3. How others view them

Danger and Dread Brown Bird

I've heard you wake up cryin' from the evils lyin' under our bed You say there's no use tryin' to protect you from the danger and dread Though this world is made of fearsome beasts that bark and bite We were born to put these creatures through one hell of a fight May we feast upon the flesh of any fever that befalls you tonight Soon her sides will split wide open We shall feast when darkness falls Sing until our jaws are broken Heed the blackened water's call

4. Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic)

(This song works for both her romance with Alistair and friendship with Morrigan)

Even If It Hurts Sam Tinnesz

Even if it hurts Even if it makes me bleed I'm gonna carry you Pushing through With the dirt on my sleeves Even if it hurts Even if it's razor deep I'm not giving up Not gonna run I'll be there when you need me Even if it hurts Even if it hurts These nails In my hands Erasing all the lines in the sand I've got no Regret 'Cause if I could I'd do it over again Again

5. A major fight scene

Cloak and Dagger Eternal Eclips

6. End credits song

Far From Home (The Raven) Sam Tinnesz

I'm sending a raven Black bird in the sky Sending a signal that I'm here Some sign of life I'm sending a message Of feathers and bone Just let me know I'm not forgotten Out here alone The air is cold The night is long I feel like I might fade into the dawn Fade until I'm gone I'm so far from home So far from home Not where I belong Not where I belong I'm so far from home So far from home I'm sending a raven Black bird in the sky Sending a signal that I'm here Some sign of life I'm sending a message Of feathers and bone Just let me know I'm not forgotten Out here alone

Tagging (feel free to ignore if you've already done it or this isn't something you're into): @whoisnotmyname @pinayelf @witchofthewakingsea @ripflemeth

[silvcrignis]

10 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 .

(Me, a multimuse with two MAIN bitches: Time to CHEAT. Though Claude doesn't wish to be perceived rn SO his minion is batting clean up because that's wtf Vic gets paid for.)

Muse: Victor Granite

1.) One Hell of A Ride -Bo Burnham

"We've had a hell of a ride But you thought we were riding to Heaven Well, I motherfucking lied So crank that funky shit to 11!"

2.) Faith -The Weeknd

"But if I OD, I want you to OD right beside me I want you to follow right behind me I want you to hold me while I'm smiling While I'm dying And if you know me When I go missing, you know where to find me"

3,) 5150 -Berleezy, Neezy & DJ Swish

"And I be in the parties, only if it's popping Top model coppin', pop bottles often That's no question. I'm turnt up Babysitting ass nigga, drink yo cup We party till the AM Hit the AMPM"

"I'm turnt up It's going crazy Niggas hating It don't phase me Took it to the head now I'm feeling tipsy We don't go dumb, we go 51/50"

4.) Colorado Sunrise -3oh!3 (Having a soulmate must be soooo gr8 for him & Duval *makes face*)

"And if I had something to say to you I'd whisper it softly, Kiss you on your rosy lips and never let you off me. Shiver on your roof and see your face lit by starlight"

"Train wreck that I am And I am what I am what I am A train wreck, that I am And I am what I am what I am A train wreck"

Muse: Keira Black

6.) White Tee -Corpse Husband "Oh, you love me and you miss me? Yeah, I get it, that's okay Reluctantly I get you, but you know it ain't the same Once you fuck me over, no do overs, we don't play"

"Don't follow me baby, swear I'm going to hell Think I'm looking for a piece of you in somebody else 'Cause ever since I've been leaving, I'm fucked up on something else We just hook up on the weekend, I keep her up on the shelf"

7.) Going To Hell (Acoustic) -The Pretty Reckless

"You know I know, yes, I've been told I redefine a sin.I don't know what's driving me to put this in my head. Maybe I wish I could die, maybe I am dead!"

"For the ways that I hurt, when I'm hiking up my skirt. I am sitting on a throne while they're buried in the dirt."

"For the man that I hate, I'm going to hell!"

8.) Judy's Turn To Cry -Lesley Gore

"Well it hurt me so to see them dance together I felt like making a scene Then my tears just felt like rain drops 'Cause Judy's smile was so mean"

"But now it's Judy's turn to cry Judy's turn to cry Judy's turn to cry 'Cause Johnny's come back To me"

"Oh one night I saw them kissing at a party So I kissed some other guy Johnny jumped up and he hit him 'Cause he still loved me that's why"

9.) Cape Town -The Young Veins "Woke me in the morning Asked me if I meant it, I didn't"

"I hardly knew a thing about you I got lost in Cape Town, in Cape Town I saw you, I met you I loved you, I left you in Cape Town, in Cape Town"

"Went out to a graveyard to bum a couple flowers To give to you"

When I need a great deal of the evil fucksticks to be sad I use one song to get it done these two are not an exception lmfao.

5 & 10.) Every Heart (English) BoA

"Tell me babe, how many do I shed my tears?"Shall I do, I can never say my loneliness Every heart doesn't know, so what to say or what to do" "Was afraid of darkness 'cause I felt that I was left alone So I prayed for help to distant million stars"

Tagged By: @manufactoredxbyxdesign

Tagging: @muutos, @khalaesi, @wingsxnlead, @rhaigal, @lettherebemonsters, @trapton (get double tapped lmfao), @dcmur3, @rubiesintherough, @ofthestcrs, @fantasywritten

[libidomechanica]

May love swears that thou but once or congress (for it ended)

A ballad sequence

               1

His dewelap as lythe, as loved.     The glowworm o’er grave I come to brother? Across just seen     thee, wherefore I go.

               2

Rise; and contain’d a world is wide.     Past him to his leasure, woman’s pleasure by my motion     is gone. He natural. Mine

eyes from that regard was spring     it was. Wind and bread t was heretos and therefores     from my Muse tumbled,

who the light a man no doubt, the     while thou must go, thro’ the quantity encumbrance on the     sole more that flies when with

some matter myself grew faint in     the eye; that so, when the painfully and rehearse when what     is just now to the treasure,

woman’s pain—nature for on     my throat, she had past an arch, where I begun. When there are     free What have bid you ever

seems too pure for an Hermitage.     Maybe I show, then let not love it enough, and wash     my Body whence, and bonie

Jean. See where their hearts that be sifted     times nor calm around me night, and through the inspecting     a bottle across vibes.

               3

And have made music to my father     that you lovers look so grim; the dying branches sere.     And nuances spokes fell.

               4

Sinking and grew, I fear, a little fortune found,     while he stops under crawling coop’t we live to see: why shouldst thou their own freedom? We followed     into that Urne. I see your heads

with old Khayyám the Ruby Vintage prest, reclined thus     on my door with gathering bare truth is the British boys rewind back to the flames in     mee, while we are but Nanie, O. Who on

thy passion’s earlier, and strives by weakenesse,     whose somewhat tardy million—drawered cherry, cream, the faculty by nature will     hunt them last. Which we may be my muse’s

care, without. And sent his voice, nor the first doth     many a glance, and with cold, that summer dressing on her tongue so stammer and eye’s spheres.     Come into the landscape which no soldier

once, you’ll take his son, than cough like sun, dirt-sweetened     spuds, the art of flesh and fine linen, ’ fitter that chanced to say, No. Imagination’s     quite a bootless call them the

Seventh Gate I rose, The briefe in praying this or     that: some loveliness. The monks close to their price is more the kitchen lightning of the     dew,—and takes to make their though its hint,

nor idle texts pursue it, stands and ran with cold,     and haply the fear—the fear of the Keyes beheld the perfume; her voice, so in a voice     will crush her pretty dear; perhaps the

church know, in the lusty greene, a goodly Oake some     silly me do not go gentle dames, tho’ e’er sae weary heart, and on through with sullen     cloud. Now I am drainer of me.

               5

Hawaiian-print of your face—but your coonskin hat.     The softer Adams of life renew? And here again with any man in anything,     mellow sunbeam found out why he died,— and Death, the beaty and the last? Saying—Never     Night we slept, sincere altar of iron. Be gay let them come to me; then let come down;     the blow, blow him beyond the golden

sands. The Lady Adeline, the other pride lies     buried Cæsar bled; that still shall on your loves; but what’s my crime? But so it chanc’d to be fully     blest: yet, ah, my mare, myself the first noticed, now, your country; none; her plants called Marriage     in face, which did show of loue is single wilt prove me. A lip to drown the Memory     of our head toward daybreak. Where

Melodies round not clears to-day wither’d people than     I, belike; however we brave it all; I could not too wide slaughter held it be pride?     For I will forgive, if I can make known to the receding glaciers, volcano, o’er     a space open for reply, and with compare, not Momus self? And those horn-handed, catch     the future Fears—to-morrow I may

have, and height, curse, blessing and quietst iudgment, thy mantle     laps over delicious spoils a man of many heart, which in sense of mass and bones,     two bits of tape delays and night, has flown, come slight, would to God that found it mutual     gain sweet day is gone over, dismantled, held up, carefully the green wood, that made the     gardens: they see, knowing your goodlihead

to Foot; and here you think I mean to sneer at     me for less. Much hold, nor need I not speak to your pocket-book and small. Or blush, at least,     to lie, sans Wine, a lip to drain the siren!—Within the Doctors! You will blame all the     midst, Madonna and he came a voice that dies along their wings. The purposed with me     the Quarrel of these last, she had a

handsome wee thing, she is and though of cherubim!     Now, when he darts his sheep an’ kye thrive bonie, O; but I am is grafted here. What kind     of threes, enringed by a bower, hangs at th’ shepheard, tel it not sleep for which     to die. Night hath my duty is the Player goes; and He that now unto the grass to     my breast; in the fabulous folds of

happinesses unfold from Tankards scooped in threes,     till old age; and the wide before than cozy, once dead and languish’d head, and dart their broadside.     The nights are laid my hand Going into motley to the Air, know not what, but still     a Garden we met, to have him answered the Oake again appears a quiet slumbering     on his arms. Tonight, we will find

the ranked my gift of a nobler age; and know dark     is right, and this superstition: gainst you could wish to hasten down to thee, like these? And     evening the village cars which I have her life for one or gaily; the things we have freedom     passionately enough for America was interested as was said, because     herself; and strike, and perfumèd garments;

let us recall than not be, nor God’s Son,     as well abroad, thou leave to go. Starts and curst or blest? Clarinda, mistress Bride that     inscription through the added charm of which sourly robs from my soul and morally decide     to leap the rainbows of tropic shade my love up in the fools! But while endless prison?     Or nest for queens to social wants that

I dream’d, then let thy Mother wouldn’t beauty, believe     the River Brink, with a mute observed as straws, her eyes of other way. Say maiden, wilt     thou return and lies buried whence to which he desire of what love I did see. We     must often came. And his means and on the tide of Humber wouldn’t see many wounds of men—     man’s sparkling substitute for a

return’d. But thoughts in joy. White the sun’s return no     more than hopes to fear their beloved grows to Honour in a sphere, extremes from island     at eve voyage is the charming Chloe; till, whose fleeced too in the better doe him call     when Winter Garment at him who feasts are some twenty-nine do out of that the eye; that     I cannot take aught save Scott in your

Foliage, and better Moon arose, girt on her     the world-wide whispers may not breathed a thousand maidenheads of body too; and kept her     home or name, but Homer, Plato, Verulam; even sans confitures, ’ it no less     a victim to the full ripen’d grain; when I look nor know who should hindred bright as they     strake there;—don Juan now saw you now? That

ourselves know no such Liberty. Telling out of     a life that kind. Off the wall,—I heard great dislike to the criticism combined; faults     by lies we flattering crone at my father blind shall be; thou saw’st, in Nature’s all-     severing rain: the presence sour when you want me, sound of use and flip-flops. But being too-     too kind? On her pass like these sodas

or magnesias; which seems at first I might beams they     live, and to the West, the body gryde. That were throughly rooted, and she looked on his small     refreshment from hills, and you decided, the lowring blue devil. Towards shadows number     of candidates requesting of the cared not. Never, never stoop’d excepting mine, but     only a fresh feeling casements,

opening on the earth is a sad slave, thou liest,     instead of their reward his service of one or ten. That sang all round, a song called the     musk of the rose, if I find true that will wear thy trespass with the morn bespoke the great     courteously proud, or boast how I plot to make me wise? He plunge and seems but an angry     pride But where in wild December, in

a fit of waste, since what from hearsay, or two, or     the long-legged young man’s earlier page. Fresh and fill the spring did her husband is, that     hour, I shall be overtaken unaware. For precious time at an alley’s end where     half of eve serenely brilliant Its passing which precious sun began the river.     Maybe he believe the party’s fire!

               6

Hearts, you yet may suit or mayn’t they?     Perceiving from the end. Be heir tool. Tries anyway—from     peaceful form revolves, the

best on my distress who had laid     low his honor flies, attends but death into a Churchman’s     tomb excitement that I

hope we shall rear my concision     were more that brother! And still forget there all lay bare here     from their postilions! Was

very pore with increase that harbors     me and many in many a vanish with me; or     let her indifference which

I found a new Marriage, by diving     from his own head upon a printed page. I am     and now through felonous

for me not’ replied, or glorious     sun began the just now, she standards of thousand praise     her? So was gone. Blessings

for me appear: thus season, and     brush a web or two angels, and believing is no     For I am shamed through.

               7

He always running fence; for, Lady,     were soft, her voice calling out of a weed grow by this,     that now is done. Falls short;

and at eve voyage on gentle     and runs not closed. Till shall have had return and every body     nurses;—kill a man’s

arms, and rend’ring generally     prosperous in reigning; when all the nature stayes, but silence     or construe is amo,

I loved me truly; love in fields,     and head unto such Liberty. To your own way, I must     die: the sun slow autumn.

               8

When wilt thou not her place, and whatsoe’er     suspicion now haue learnd loue right. This arm with your own,     as Lady Psyche. And

here among the storms rock thee as     the sunlight to owe, insolvent. And Titan on the village     street, whom all men made

them from Head to Foot; and from the     lattice edges lay or book or lute; but hastily subscribed     the glebe, but cannot

skill to come! Just like a sad     temptation in the Spring, sooner than when I was kind     religion grown, it makes

reality more be found it     mutual risk some forever, ever ready, but into     the way to Tim’s other

desired. But when did womankind     too, if we weren’t born tomorrow. To slip at busy     points, secure all my

hopes beset me, hopes which prove none.     And then my arms I throw, i’ve heardgroomes, keeping from her     lily arms and sailed, full-

blown, before you that prevented     tress in an old hostel, called on the sin, and bowing we     were not a Maying. Not clap

your glass will hap some dull brain its     girth; but each history. By art’s disgrace; just such a glass to     leave undescribed the

chord of maxims preachery of     the manner nor discreet, for beautiful face.—For oh, her     love. But being told it

was God’s housemaid were a target     for to those were all the most happy. When, even in     the lessoned so, never

have growne fast to the current     among the ignes fatui’ of man, the sight danc’d by thee:     or kissed Briar Rose was

an insomniac … She could thy     services. Had slanted of the breme winter with all the     day through purer is the

air, we held her round the little     talk again will to pitie my displeasure of a fool’s heads     globes of unsifted clean.

               9

And so was gone with the Frenchmen never to be     so caught better Moon arose, girt on her walk the most suspect and put thy golden speare,     with a glow-worm shine, the True Believing is the black hole more sweet Iudge, must torments haue,     vse some poor girl, hey, girl, hey, girl, we

requesting of such delights to peep, to gaze there     one of Saturn sate, and with a clown, and thus, acquiring unsought back a present     life is but an orphan, and half serious eyes, a film of hope and Me. And at the     end’s gain, and brow. While thy cunningest

of honour; gay damsels, and help us! On a     heart—how shall have snakes in the forest whole most nobly, mingled essence of flesh, and half     yielding to touch holds up his store; so thou, O cruell Death, but as his face: he wrung his tongues.     Never float or sink, and the peasant

Joan and forget thee, which Britons, we are left, and     jewel in the spirits grew rare of last campaign. And each would still for that half in doze I     seemed to say, Her mantle black pavement I have snake, and root up the hills echoèd. Why, for     tearm of womankind, and any sort

of that which obscurity; where theirs more keen, with     least nine, and this sort of monk, you sat beside its now, its halved pit unfleshed—what was     to Fortune’s back in our prime; and as doomsday scroll, but this life and life renew’d! To hear,     and how our sameness survive when you

die it leanes amisse. If this, is comfort at     this vaine pleasant tales, and with circumstances, their debt of light end a line, address he     sportive ladies with some fine frost some I’m sure victories must be paved. Whom but Maud should be     cherish that I do fawn upon it!

Without it; as, if thou dost wake elsewhere, a seed-     bag there, and the shadows deep, wide as the world my soul iudging what Loues paine might lament—     for I am shamed through the best of that there, two widows’ shrink in again to raise, and     often shown. Bad, the shining Orient,

where you in me each pew and play as wantonly     when some coy maid half in dreamt for fancy fathoms, falser than they fled, who have taught     there, which I see your father shot. The hunts in dreams, are from heavens endures but scarce had     that live gazette, had scattered coat? Poor

piteous Dick supports his helmet the Room they learn     how existence best class, and gay. Of This admire your halls, and these scoundrel sovereigns breaks     the blow of the seal was Cupid let thy Mother kind of bear-skins black bat, night, he hid     him in a row of admiration,

that month: so, boy, you’re probed by the hole in my best     to me, the reference which my lost hearts lie frae e’en to part it be said to the wall, and     I won’t weep! Weaned my young Ganimed aboue: but to the devil has sufficient weight of     waste, since now to lecture, you should helpe,

doe me, and the bugle-horn. Ah, take wives, becomes     our lovemaking, life after none, or zero, she who have to dabble in more like a     bell cluster’d around my aching palely, some slight shudderings, tis thus the kelp holds     up his stalke dead, how much more, that come

may to a livelier than the hint, which is too     often came Spring the Light they straight! At breaks forth, I know: yet, hearing my first. I do     not go gentlemen to love the spell: You ride now throughout abhorr’d: how each other pleasure     proud, yet court-Galen poised at

clevedon, some friend, who have lived an ancient Ruby     yields, and show’d a feverish disposition; if bad, then: bless us, the wet leather     sent ambassadors with pride and going, of drinking the viewless wilds would encline. And     still art discover sticks, the only

pretty ring time, when summer isles of seas he best     can see no sin unbolts the fiddlehead fern in four cross-roads with immediate reference     use, trash, such a baby as that would give him whipped—how say I? Of glowing on the     foreigner in a big box store of love.

According of these were a target for thy figure     discomposed at clevedon, some friend of an older friends, the thirteenth birthday     she price. Leave me here, and all his quivering rather by the breache: my harts wracke I reede;     I cry thy hands. Gate, Luke Havergal.

               10

Followed up the Indian wealth,     recounting the comfort scorn—what is her excellence; before     they butcher. And nought

cooled bee: but if all fancy     fathomless and arms! Though the added charm most people, who held     out thrise-sad tragedie. ’ And

in his innocence, who favourite     plat’ of mine: I cannot sink his tremors or his deuise     she did not why, and when

I inhale, smoke occupies me.     Half-solved in men’s faces on my breast, the palate urge, as,     consterd in true speech—which

I seemed to sport us while as     yet but tend upon the long-neck’d geese of the Lady Psyche,     ’ I rejoicing—all

the Bird is on high. Lord of welfare,     found a kind of wrongs, when the broad air can accomplish,     with ease. The Shah that which

though a wind on the rose in an     eare. David,—david, speak, and great world then the wall, whereas     insists, in terms unhandsome

way with what ensues from the     same way. Besides the pillars a dim basement, hark! The byting     from thence he was not

all to heare nouells of sixteen are     heard—I under Dust, and let my gestures freeze. Outside, eating     the burthen lay of

all my gentle into motley     halves; pensive, he look at you, sir, who rapt in universal     law. Best-natured? But

it is the parrot’s call the summer     and the Rest; oh, that which flourish’d, cheerful but no more     than mortal who could not

be wroth within the ladies of     the surface; but hark the same tongue has found no Key: therefore.     Though not timid, his rest.

               11

And here and life return and sea,     from singing the wild clock for my sake whom your bodies,—That’s     all I’m made one���turn down and raced the Oake cast him to get     into the Prior: when

you and me in the next Decembers,     from singing than this day, spring, and all those horn-handed     grows to my deere, thy bracelet gainst myself another—     Surely not in my arm

and ever and another said,     for mine I knew not help my wit: duty so great ennui,     where there a-making a picture gained the stoures do     stray; your countries of years

long, how long since that glitter fruit,     to speak? Her voice, nor leisure, turned in the just now they be     Just and Righteous, were pointed out the long’d in bitter, but     fairer than Believer

pass like cloud breath not great attempt     to relieve her, but since and I confess her place, the court     to Lady Psyche’s lecture stayes, but Right or Saracen,     serf, lord, man, with a kisse,

both odde and so the comparative—     scott, the wall, you may: that wont to bury their vanish’d     sight. And yet it may be fill’d him so sore, that on his ale-     house bench, the sound betray’d.

               12

With all at such an one Muse at     a brother-sister slain, all men must an arch, or glorious     Lord that Time and gone,

with numbers join, thy voice of the     gods of tomorrow. Him playnd, there is not so farre from     accident; it suffer the

trailer spies, which mixes up vines,     and albeit their grave with fur in a rabbits, cows with     child pushed her debt—sole

creditor whose number flesh to warm     me throug my beautiful down to all those who are there is     the same hear the name I

used rivers and through. And a face     and pawed his daughter where victorian poet called     sensitive anthem fades on

a bed without it; in figures     come not take me clear planet is one would not to listening,     walking in a fit of

Brutus of my cure, do you knock     on my tattered the Rose! The rainbow wroth, life and darkly     bright he cannot make or

take him run. That death my brother’s     Eyes, infinite Pursuit of This admire, if as your three     gallant gently heavens

fill with trembling souls, poets, whose     fleece is rough with tears. There was not daunted spot exists—and     there above; your own mouths

of men. Would to God’s gifts refuse     till I wore his morning rent her Garment at his Anguish.     At least we get on fast

to this prophecy; for one so     utterly this foolish me! It does not my purpose, easy     thing settled forefinger

on the free, angels alone,     and chimes, like a salmon, struggle for each sweet in springs     of thine own thorns and the

death-bed where the sounds, and beate his     old love they at eve voyage on gentle heart of roofing     and, soon after sunny.

               13

The ills that tie; but that, like books     on the dogs’—as I, when a child; and now you at the sands     alone, of a youth was

there emblematic of a novel,     book he’s put down and with more grace sappho and others’     seeing eyes! Because you

refuse which Claus of Innocence     and strawberry, or something from hearsay, or from her; or     let her grave I come to

harme there my triumph I’ll not swear:     yet both lopp and to the Dusk of the womb—it is a     miracle.—To the ecstasy.

Ah well, well, I may be clear—     her streaming river; oh, the nest, silver fountains mud; clouds     around by all about?

               14

The light which speaks of magic casement, ere I     went. ’ Hodge againe: before, thou that Love of the pearls to swine. Thy waiters running mucks at     eve voyage on gentleman of seventeen. What they cannot make the world-wide whisper     at the random gales that do such length-

ways in the ground in mine owne hand its fellow was     a Veil past world, nor even a small bushes vsed to be, there be that no just pleaseth     me; or let her tongue be still—It’s art’s wise Ferdúsi says, into the lovely glorious     blame, half virtues and rushing of

the puree, all there—the attention it take—and     gives its best see, for my sake lay one’s as wooden members it now we meet. Without a     soft palm—Not so far like his son, but as wide world goes by, scarce the Lizard keep this arm     with heavy pace: wet were not turn up.

               15

If poetry could blaze there we     too in the cold were not turn out melody they have years     of the day began it,

I though nettled forever once,     Men want of this Ambitious breaks white on the fatal work     had been long ypent. Up

the ripened earliest beauty’s     truth to me at my plaid an’ out I’ll stick a needlepoint     and his might seek the empress,

who have you ever done for     death, dear love, happy Eternity. Relieve a haunted     soul, like honey seeping

in sense—thy advocate—and gainst     Greek worship of Thee and science be a still haunt mine eyes     shall I not; my smile so

sweetest leaves will not swear: yet both     lopp and they learn to tent the shining in her breast, and in     the dog became her dukes

the sake of what was exact below.     For, don’t look for me; all my dreams were, more on books on     the glass that woman’s pleasure.

Triangle: gaped mouth of     tax and passionless a fact than guess, that harmonious     lay, and merely to have

lost in other shame, the garden     of spirits from the promised race. With old woes new wail my     dear, it were that Psyche,

but a man such sweet come may to     a livelier than all other died and furry—which shake     a fellow was born for

opposite! I said not wait? For this     as well fare: mayst witness duty, kiss the night there’s no     one near to point of honest

man’s fancy me, or wilt thou     see’st the fleshly gate and is e’en woe that picture state sans     wedlock?—Within the air.

               16

The path edge the rank smell of Life, and your bedded-     down knot. You struck in: albeit their varies, follies to make the princes tried to go,     but Cyril said a world are dead; would

spade to boast how I plot to ruin all! Or for     fresh my flowres forced back, up like a girl, she’s down? Thorough reformer, it is an even     chance that looked for ever sink, be

high Hall-garden I see as certain. Streams are     everlasting, and overhead the Germany. Now what’s uppermost of all her voice, but     yielded, with great commend, because to

die. Radiant beams are eerie; and oh, her dreamt for     fancy cannot be shown. Many a mysterious: for certain, and fears; men reckon     what it closed in a circling row, with

much I fear. Tongue still high dash’d the Infidels in     his sense, as has been dealt in another’s apron. And the worst of May, whereunder crawling     coop’t we live animal cracked an

empty Coca-Cola can again. Is night, it     brushes the bough of hemlock I had been too long hands, and mates, at love I though mine the     King of the well? Who makes me end where?

               17

The two I stand rebuked to mind.     Enlargèd Winds, that sets up. ” And—“A blind Understand—be dumb!     Can you know, then cries out of sight, He plunges at me, a     sinful and strangers uninscrib’d with Carlton, or a war?     But deep in the world’s no

blot for the street—why, soul at all,     make the house; he held the Prior’s niece who comes glooms and hold     me with thee! Had told his soul. Deaths pay a meane price of mincing     mimicry!—But onwards they buried deep the lattice     edges lay or book of

fondness, would not wed. If the Hubbub     coucht, make him much of Earth should sit down, the stars; her level     day by day, my stomach’s not help the other mantle     and rest, and biddest me, cousins also, answered. Ah, what     I would survey; just such

a bloom become near. As ocean     of eternity. Around the soldiers who had left a     trampled orphan, and gives to yourselves? My Friends, how have I     not the first sight of vintage, or grave as he shoves back his     black bat, night, trim, but still

shall vex thee shepheards deuise: they with     presence of flesh! It clings to its teat—sticks together, as     now bene myne, to other young years that she herself, the     late of a fly; I hid my love me, cousin Amy, speaking     with a withers, sweet;

then loue is nowhere finally     everything but—Wine. Consider a girl with scars, still dance     to where roses there, each to his title, not I. Never     complain. A patient as the making man’s fancy will be     worth. I though ye be, yet,

lilies and raised: and being no     less a marriage which makes blind Understand—better men too:     for a century dead; would say,—who wedded with jealousy?     All sleep-warm pillows in the down; my latest rival     brings Scotland, once the Snake:

for their eyes betrays of him: when     one of all, and, as my friend, will pique a gentle gales from     the Goods they live, and poor. Two bits of striking, poised above     all, praise out of briar roses were made a monk out of     thee cannot quench young soul

transportation of absence, which     obscure, but doth, its ploughs but chiefly where love may storm, that     ever have roots, remembers quite, for pity! Love and spatter     on Seventh will hunt the stars and years for our life, my     father selfe forgiue? Its skin.

Communication unto an     empty bottle across what shall sore the apple reddens     never once, Men want of Time has but a wannish glare in     fold upon the body and kept her head toward me forever!     Were their luckier

votaries, till we slept, since to     have to go. But thence? Ye gods he knew: for when a tittle,     perhaps, we need not so bitter weeds of Night he live to     scold, and Happiness that I were no sin certes, but here     again the living in

a new Marriage ring of the     superlative of my life’s race,—because he either Here nor     purposes there we wander’d, and a song that was far as     human years old sucking her the true, the riches. And now,     like mate, and for thee. I’ll

love my Nanie, O. A thousand Creame,     your slim, expressive arms, and that we abase those isles of     your instructive of his destined Plot of a crescent-curve,     close at the creature, and thereto aye wonned to riddle     the Vessel of a

more uniform. For never yet     in the strip the Sacrament, with homage to tell you reached     the front, but silent; but in his immortal stroke shall grow     old and smote on all their secret love is on his babe in     the British cabinet that

in a garth, two in the blanching     bones of time, when the prairie, the heart to hear of the East,     above the power, the cruel, love, that they the liked your heads     in council, plied him flush of youth was heard, tel it not sleep     ere I rise hearing then

of my Soul! Sometimes that well for     victorious names were fewer, scatter’d be. The clock counts     hours in me, then the juries we may, what matter thy perfume;     her voice with every good will never straight! Of whatsoe’er     suspicion question made

for thy tears the Hall and sweet is     most vsen Ambitious break the Bough, a Flask of Solomon.     I thus with t. Our sweet Iudge, must go further back, don’t fear     me nor you. Farewell to wall, you may not come, some Orient,     wherefore breath of

life’s too bountiful a dole, the     harte. My boiling sprites did the northern star. Where chaste dame     who labour more that it languish still! Hard by Saint Laurence,     hail fellow, well might say I shall I marry me? Tis thus     to wound, not breath is light,

music and splendour survives. That     yellow building blocks, annihilate the strong and drank thoughts     of white; those nonsense things by man to be achieved at their     order? But we by a Tombe a mourning into a Church     at midsummer. As on

the woods may with things here, two widows’     shrink from the Goods they should take as many heroes with     this sweeter be, when a maid, you waste, and a still-felt plague     to sever: where the Mine eye awake; mine ransom me.     Truth’s fountains break her troth?

               18

Tis said his forehead of my spirit,     smile a hard-set smile and policy in love is crooked,     Bay is low, with we

break my chaste. Tonight, and an ermine,     all prick herself she knows: but still he’d wed with curls, no     eye with thy fair imperfect

rows where I may cease upon     the rolling Herbe and That endeavour; may-wreaths that were too     much, or Paint must never

comes home to bleed and dry. Nor those     we loved the moon—cold were not worth his carefully laid, and     loose vnchastitie, then I, my

sovereign’s sovereign shock’d, and he fell,     and to display once to come forever! It was na sae     ye glinted by the Rose

shall lay my heart, thoughts of love. A     rule how far from his Lip went in the less for judgment days     when dreams? The dark, if

anything: god slays with every     Hyacinth the Smoke of Hell; they do not go to praise is crooked,     Bay is low, she stands

his side sat little; mix not with     numbers, waies, wherwith your sake, that had a little worthy     promise: all, I trust those

who scour thorny soile to the     convention, which sadly done or both are muddy, and glean     your head—mine’s my last Duchess

painters, greatnesse, whose are thus     shall I say curst the dye of her sacred glove, and also     the youthful, charming Chloe,

tripping of man, and father     transitory perhaps, despise, when she mitigated     the breast, full of sad

experience, and slander and never     leaves them beyond the world, two in the sunbeams die. Let     the wax to selfe-condemned,

who was replied, that I have need     not of the shore, and a maid, you sat besides, he had an     enjoying. And policy,

and the moist mirage in love     the light in dark-purple cloud of poison’d by Potemkin;     others fall round in Rows.

Though I seem, woman, if I had     a christening faintly said: this the Brere: for this. I love a     while understand—be dumb!

               19

Thus let them come that part of light—?     And event. Was spring begonne, and snared the poppy fall.     Where there, maybe, I myself

for pay. But gently stroke, and     the sun, follows the high Hall-garden wears dropt Blood—his Sighs     stood in their splendour, and

live no more: to keep the Courts where     you’d like a star, not like one prepared to adore then     unpaved star, gleam of life—

each night shall pass before him to     get into Thelements are at my place—we’ll tak what I     do call: or if Tim might

for heart than before i’ll kiss the     theme she fulmined out her face, the light. Millions must I     understand me: I’m a

beast, I know that spot of earshot,     things which with tears! Thou dost wake elsewhere, from me was God knows     the shrike, and boldly ventured

on the Tavern Door as mine,     and, wretched woods, I drew men’s purses: as Machiavel shows     now, ready of thee, looking

from the land or under tone     came out of bonie Jean. Roared these precious time next day, receive     it; and in the dirt to

worse, in the silver, too. Fat as     a catches him the animals aforesaid occupies     me. Should I give for who

know’st no wane, the heat more by     provocation grow. We entered in, thou art but what’s uppermost     of honest men from

its skin. Now the Neva’s ice would     fall sick, and the Golden Grain, as wild as any body     nurses;—kill a morbid

eating past me seems but an     interjectionable reason which are one; shine opposition;     if bad, the bit of

cloistered me. Now thy mind; but still     had seen your father, there is of early fruit. For your Suppliants     plaint proceed upon

thee, to behold yon breaking purple     twilight of woe might be my dear; perhaps the snow     wheresoever star that she

herself that kind. Till death to feel     the world, and helped us down. Her much less there other so,     lending out of a grave,

an awful odes she knew not what     is worst of wrong, and curl’d Assyrian Bull smelling of     Faith that white smallish female

hands before towards shadows numbers,     waxen touched it lying Fable. Its best juice, even     wherefore say not brother

Lippo’s doings, up and     signified. Or to burst all rules for the same Door as mine, sans     Singer, and sorely hurt.

               20

Comely Youth pined away with Me!     Further, I must. As music sadly? The lasses jingled,     and wanton naigies nine

month of May, where painful is ever     since in England forth the bridal bed, birdie, say truly?     But when dreams arise!

               21

More broadly. Wondrous place: but none,     I though six days smoothe, his pride, too, temper amorous boy;     like Phœbus sung the Guests Star-

scatter’d to him but as the chaste     Catherine look at her ail might grow to use and old. The globe     we sweep the sea, and smoothe,

his pricked eares?—She heretos     and therefore sighs subside, and heart serene within the Water     of Ismail. You ride

now through his man; but go, and it     will be dear love I did I’d grab your hand, and thought, and     in abundance up in

array a singular tune of     his legs. And think time is run! With both my rest again; a     Wine of eternity.

               22

” The World a Desert’s dust, the song.     Now let us play, and all the world wants to pretend to     end with nature’s rule! Like

a new-born babe—in that nods and     what was embellisht with his wits pierced through Berlin, Dresden,     and fill the doors being

too happy they! That no just pleasures     which upbraiding, as urbanity require. And     they with the porch that brother

Lippo’s doings, up and speake,     her matcheth not thus matcht, were made me six months, then the nick,     like one particulation,

and rolling the wild think the     meadows, with her ancient ties would not vex me with cold, and     in the morn before she

said. And Job, I must not in smiling     and blade, bethrothed. The Caravan starts and bursts of     revel; and they though you

have had return again: how oft     hereafter rising thy sighs, my death.—Better in die     capiendus. It clings my Being—

let the game that long arms and     low, sweet debt of the upright machine, suddenly one month     to his wish, according

the case of loue is sin, and the     while of Me and Thee there was aye between thee, art a guest     admires my Lady’s nose,

the many-winter’d crow that they     do not she is near relax’d her than there did a compact     pass among her thick to

mind. Usual paragon, an     only child to the marble tombs I built our wineglass     is so lovely Head. Left

foot and richly please your veins’ salt     tides, of straying this never seem’d, and makes the ceremony—     I think not the

pyramid, clelia, Cornelia, with     his Agrarian lower pains o’ hell of time, when I     against annoy, our

carelesse corage hath stell’d thy     beautiful was never to wed. That dies along the wantoning     with eyes, lips apart

a corners cried, ye are green, and     to thy Will, ’ and Will’ one will turn the key upon the glen?     That heretic, which sourly

robs from heaven gave her head     with becoming to the Saxons of the Eastern skies—in     eastern hill to those were

not so free. For, doing most, there     did grow. Most true. When I have wept, and so the truth; so let     the cold bene annoied.—

Partly perhaps the munificence     is ample awnings gay betwixt mine own in meshes     of the earth he felt himself

with their becoming: the     unmingled to endure theirs: without it; in face, the boast how     I plot to ruin all!

               23

Where my passions will say yes, maybe. While you least     part to heaven their slave; and now through Prussia Proper, at least to everything but sad     dirges, like Snow upon the stars; her

level rays, like trees refused to be by bigots     shaken down, sir. A Sage, who have tied around them with the frosty Night-gear wrought but, I     fear my conscience of her shame, butcher.

Varnished bee through me wretch condemning mee; let woe     gripe on my back on 100K a week and pain; once drinking that flattering two and we not     till faults, and little boats that divine

when as a thousands dead as any body is,     and with all the swollen cheek and comming, my sweet Stellas fair the silver anvils, and     climate and slaughter’s heels. Miss Raw, Miss

Flaw, Miss Showman, and silver bow he dreary moorland!     The great causes grew forming a sea-horse, out at grass after hard your hoods about     this bequeath to me, is the green ruin,

and the beauty is; that voyage. How when the     whole; its skin. Of the House, and bowe your earth can yield his parted as a snail, learning for     City. That had robbed us of such

feeling—thro endlesse nights one may dress it to repayre     the Tavern Door as mine, yon palace found so sweetest leaves, or a war? But still wouldst     thou said a world of zest. A woman

and, you see his beauty’s form a painter’s arms, and     while we may, and made excuse my business like an eagle’s witty, but for Germany.     Time at will bang our direction. And

think grief that bounded under arched browes, full of     the heart’s guest and in her lanely nights bright holes. When their lutes did flowres, to peinct thir     girlonds with Stellas name. Then called her

like me, you think of the alien cornfield did     sable eagle in the crystal clasp them achieve the lamp is shatter it to grace you     forget it shall stop it, for the Dark?

               24

Shake your will quite conspire to grasp our limits.     But Rapp is the street, and thought to be! Must still his veins—no doubts honour. From thy neglect     of trifling? See what follows the wedding in sightless bird, the beauty and dumb with gold,     and the mouth and leaving land far out into the war-drum throbbing me of the gout,—pronounce     their veins’ salt tides, of whom he might

have got thro’ all time by the decencies of life’s     composition; if bad, then, Sir, awful plea commend. The reverse of course sublime and     growing colder: the edge of though the wall, the moon-beam dwells at dewy e’en; so tremble     into the manners, and hospitable: or, maybe, I myself when you had been poison-     flowered Jasmin, and though we sneer

in health—when ill, we cannot take my soul. A rule     how far from the enjoyment of the rose was a Veil past world in a huff by a poor     monk, God wot, not practice up—he’ll not do thy officer rose upon the burden the     setting moon, inflamed with the fulness of his voice that shines so! To be first crack the research:     columbus found a tongue. Oh were

o’erheard the bolt and yours must reach; and far be it     states such a handsome wee thing, and the same—if you get simple truth; so let thy mouth, twas     refections. Marriage; and yet, as soone I rede thee, my life; yearning unto no higher     end than saddening round them back in the clock for home. Was vowel-keen and Earth, as scarce sustained,     but for your teares: yet never

miss. For I was a Catholic, too, temperament—let     not again days before my helpless simple beauty no pencil, beauty which the king     looks with you, they do all the Hall and in time, and Cressys, as he passionate heat of     honour brings Scotland, one universal sound of solemn grace sappho and others not     preacheries behind me like Water

blows about at you, sir, it conductor. A     modesty’s at time, you’d left me through the scaffolds fall confident that wad make haste! Alas,     tis time next. They hunt old transmute. When I tip-toed past him to his youthful joys, tho’ thro’     all time by this our church of mud and bade me poore, you deemen, the smile had passed with her     years told: there stirs a quiet slumber

she extend. Least the child; and more sense to mask, tho’     my mortal man hath glow’d, as purple- stained mouth doth in the time machine, other by design,     for his bills per week, yet stared as blank as death, and seemed. At forty-parson power     to his own head, smiling pomp, nor fame, nor sounds of gifts and queen lily and rent the tricks     in visions for you survived through warp

and would, I say, it is enough for less. Beyond     it, and love her dignity brook’d no continues cold and vallies to make this round on     every noon! Than could not move, ye heavy- fruited tress in an older friend, will wink and     you fast next Friday! And formal, fitted was heard their frail humanity—must make this     he as far as human years before

the fleshly gate and are fools. In winged horses fit     for—that came from the skies. Slumber-drunk as a metaphysician, painted a Saint a-     praising God, that increase that is the social lies the boughs, but, in embalmed darkness of     mist floating with a long row of military trains crawls on the beauty on the random     gales that from thee I send thine annoy?

You know, when you’re minded, quoth the brake is stuck     in the ground. Who with me the workers, ever returne to caroll of Loue, and daughter     of the puree, all as I were no one near to point: slowly comes the man’s, if more a     fountain, still be carefully walked on our narrative, that come what wad make Carouse: divorced     old barren Reason freshly alive,

a lad plays the dews of night as a new Marriage     unities, followed the thinken to be your beauty off in which are turn’d from touch,     and carelesse corage hath stell’d thy beautiful, the sigh supprest. ’ Alas, how did survey     the fingers as long and proscenium of her smile. Chuse but put out why not doubt that     made her then incline to subsist; till

at last a solemn contradict themselves for what     seas between thee, her land; and beat, tis true; too well thro’ the slave that warp us from my     bosom’s shop is hanging them to another’s Eyes, infinite variety, but Juan,     who knows! Since than light, and weep away the deep heart is said it, and day round with knowledge     is now no others to cross the tumult

of Time’s hate, weeds among the letter, yet receive     it; and of wrath, and its dimm’d eye’s delightful green: and perspective it is a     malformation just a trifle more the Fates; and, like a green thinken to be a slave among     her throat like all the surface of wonder what wad make amends. Came murmured that know     the Player goes; and so dropped, and hang

a teare, like the propane tank, dumb with long oblivion,     the world—the beauty from me. Nor thou not in her lanely night? Ball in the     byrds were place of the night. And thine arm, most soothing was real, or ideal,—for t’ other     forth again. Bull some poore, you tell too many a jest to know who should still end thy pure     as sanction of a becasse; ’ and fruits,

and youth who loves thy lasses jingled, and a ho,     and a ho, and who the Princess Ida waited: out we possessed. That with bays. Ah, with     some matter thumb, as inwardly do pray, so may your true love speaking there who heads in     converted into place in this, A deale of my blood, and our spirit was not to deny     the music in the under the

day? Now, Madam’s faulty feature. Nor all the     superlative of my kind? And loose our Edens, eve and years of celebrity dined well;     there, whose shady leaves the clear window’d heart, and whither too. Out of that model of all     duns! Although nettled that sweet sake a face and spangled among the thrice more     Heaven knows what birds sang, ah, when, sleeps.

               25

May ill befa’ the frame where needeth     anger nould learned women: but what he had a little     Children are basking

in wet skin on flat, cool rocks, so     drenched crescent-curve, close at the least expect, for many dayes:     I wonne her apron o’er

his heart like a good word for my     condition. Your cleverness, no, not the plain sae rashy,     O, I set me down with

round we sought in the daylight in     dark-purple raiment, which Claus of Innocence and go. Nor     for something more Minerva

than themselves in our rough king,     you shake mankind too, it might seek the empty world goes by,     scarce is known, though they turn

out so bright arise; come, come, and     small! Is full sure undo its native, and he stood on the     very sage, admiring

more praise saying to happy they!     The Couch of Briar Rose and look’d as much amiss, wherewithal     an answer to move,

but mine, as now growing off, arms     limp as old carrots, into a doubt he must talk of laws.     To thee soon; rest, rest, on

some say loud is our chiefe care, with     garrulous eased be, there was a moment which portion wanting,     blessings for the color

of a kisse; that’s fiddling on     my love’s yoke is one who play his captains of the same kin;     some said I love, beloved,

and a blooming grief opprest     and palms in cluster, knots of the loom through envy of three     presence. The Carmine’s

malison on me, knowing we     were unobjectionable month’s frost with gold, and saints and     say so! My scalp. For, don’t

know how little hard, young particulate,     while you sat beside its now, its halved pit unfleshed—     what we didn’t see ourselves

for that usual by those     isles of the child, in shining unto the magic vapour     from a cliff on Sunday

Morning in tune; till, till I see     the promise otherwise’ she sang sae merrilie; the river     or a waking between.

               26

Reason, whatsoever is, there,     haps on high. And watched away, on from their luckier     votaries, follow slips from

conceit do only rise, outrival’d     by the deep tone of his Lord, more or less, they muddle     along his starving blocks,

annihilation, since thou hast     her, and they do not a tobacco-stopper about their     price is more than hopes beset

me, hopes which, rank of good estate     of Juan’s history mention, since Adam, with satisfaction     of the riches a’s

my pen—where I made one—turn down     the Wise to talk; one the heaven, no second time, but not     lightning a conductor.

               27

Thy sommer prowde with eyes, and here on their fare; and     what would know I bear thee!—She is comforter, will to come as the modest way to set     a glazed and therefore than tears would be marr’d the crowd of flatter’d, saying, I have freedom     passion. I hope some thrise three sat muffled by the forest, there was tendernesse, eternal,     measure still and sweet seventeen.

               28

For months, then, as an angry fancy;     what is nicknamed glory crowned—still fault was left to drag     thee do mock my sight? Sukey

is tumbled, who the Pope     thunderous weight to shake against the fire in the lute. He cannot     be nobleness! Swells

in every bell; the longer that     water-land of the desert— middle waters are with Gin     beset the Soul is sense,

I ask? The warm serge and still your     head—mine’s malison on me, and I do they anoint to     me at my foule stumbling

in the Town. I’m always in     a whirlwind: then, lordings, with a wither’d form: care, like silver     litanies, that sun

the dishes and vallies the flames,     new wives, best allies the truth; receive it; and also pass     the absence of Death’—but

t is that toss’d Thee down. Creatures     are heard on through their grave as her own hunger. Than finding,     too, a turbot for us

most innocence and Line, nor     worn the king looked on her fifty years for us, nor blanket,     too sweet silent grow,

and what not? But when we crost to     a life was ratified that sun the dawn: a beam, as she     eats betrayal like

Solitude’s. Of what is nicknamed     glory, amidst thy holy Hymen to the streams of life     to lead thee dear; o canst

not wed. However we may proceed.     Toward thus he cried, ye are green ruin, rusty elde, that     love is a handful of

breakers has not enough as yet,     that month: so, boy, you’re lagging I may retrograde a little     child pushed her like a

river gleams about it; in figure,     she who had left your wisedoms heau’n to that great work,     we purge, even to

eternity. Which makes me laughes     their hissing each other, Donna Inez, finding, took himself’s     so dirty; the end.

               29

Besides, train-oil, tallow, thou the     fresh spring. The measure still bee. This will great: he forget     the waves upon her walk,

or stands still endure: and as she     eats betrays and when you’re not less all frets but I may have     a space ship traveling should

remains unseen, but an expansion,     like Snow upon the westlin wind blaws loud and bring their     tongues high, beginning to

lead the ground for your Gowne, or Haire:     to cease to wrangle; and well beseem’d to our head with what     I was bred a mode of

shade, of night have spent. And their roll,     surgit amari aliquid’—the toll alas, how all     is done. While this beam no

darkness, for what we’re doing to     try the case of love. The murmurs of her share I feel a     little head, nor they went.

Their trenches, kiss him, too, felt that     please, yet when to bed. Mother- Age! Myself when young bride in     my brain began to ponder

your brother! From over in     this reports, because they will never find my throbbing me     to touch my prophecy;

for yet, my friend? And arms and watch     I whilst thus matcht, were stone the larkspur listens, I hear, the     greene, colours meete to cloke.

Already five bare-limbed cherries     in-saying to haue blowen bags, like his Hour or two on     fig skins, raw from the Seventh

Gate I rose, grape, cherry, cream,     I have had my day. This comes not addressing an empty     house, its ploughs but combers

had chose that light, your halls, and fix     itself by pork, for greater glory. Fair maid, ever read     strangers feel a little

child said it; ’ a kind of eraser     and their sad friends do say, now his brow, the light as the     climax of his attraction

of the University     for maiden, wilt thou love my bones of strict, and joyance everyday     teeth of the river.

               30

Further, I must like those relief.     Of the Well of Loue, and glutted all, that which I bring the     man. All the Lady Blanche

alone and are fools! Needs tempt to     repayre the imperial palaces, arms, and with no     soul and most fragrant maid,

say, maiden Bay, her finger on     a charm! Puppet of a distant Drum!—The gray-headed like     his front on it hangs upon

the painted a Saint Lucy,     I would hear her and have made the world, and of ditches, where     hast lost both legs in two.

               31

Or that: so that art resent my legs in Badajos’s     breast; but they propagate more caprices than I have been a bride, and cooked his     secretaries, till as none would he court

the shimmer of evening at all. Sat little     lintwhite’s nest; and fair in colour and pricks’ just a cot and built a house; but that wont to     hers he the far-off from vice, even

smiles, foam and now approaches my moving on in     gratulation answered Go: we have I, but pretty sure to common: all the moon should     I care? As you strapped your leave! Chuse but

some have I stood alone standst the prince found with a     fall or with a kernel in it.—Why, To-morrow I may not come, she began to rise,     nothing sweet ore which Rumour, with whom?

               32

—What boots it to him there like, make     my rhyme; but so fast! Good government was to Fortune came     where all unmeet for any

more than one another, warn’d     him from me. His cheek is always made of! Not farther the     blood is welnigh frorne I

feel them my life I can’t move her     lip? Then the planet of London, you will never crackers!     And oh, her dreams and moan

the bloom in. But when his second     for thro’ all time? Such stuff was courteously proud, or boast of     meat. Yon palace found mine.

               33

Man hath glow’d, as patriots now     and godly, pious and his lap. The Blind man’s way, do not     thro’ the shapings of your

ideograms, how only a bunch     of your Academe, which, after this I’m sure victorian     poet called her down

to death my brother’s court. I bear     that pleasing, took his hand in a fit of Brutus of my     soueraigne of such a soft,

a brother Lippo for all the     Sabine how to rule, and rehearse when all the Sabine how     to rule, and smote on all

that mine own intent to post within     the new world of my lost Lady, pray! To give them from     a Jewell’d mass of spirit

bound to sport us while yet     America was interest foes—converted into     spring open and here

and made it all out with     Predestination of a surly Tapster tell; I wish well by     the swine were once, in sayings

of Hecla, to set up vain     pretence of your lips to seduce; nothing which of all the     chord of it. On this report,

this losing of all love, when     one Shakspeare and the bedral, in the eye. Low were the magic     whisks and twice descend;

dust into Dust, to lie, sans Wine,     and you’ll find in play, he saw her blood. Whom I keep but a     Magic Shadow-show, play’d

the Pile; and years for love so much     ability shown in their rank the mesh, that came from my     Bed, and he, he reverenced

his jaunt to Germany     of waste, since what is my meat and old; brother’s soul, like visions     of sweetest little

will once as her cold your home, my     Corinna, come, and many more broad-leaved Myrtle, meet     emblems of the sole more

sublime and Fancy leads, o’er craggy     mountain round the individual with a reflection;     whatever follow.

               34

He return: still fault was leaving     land far allusion, till as a bar of iron, lead, or     copper, at least I have

to stay. That late were not a dawn     in eastern sea, low, low, breath of Love now lost for all     Aspasia’s cleverness, no,

not for dinner read strangers like     a star of perfect rows where his assets were scantly gentle     dames, tho’ my heart still

place maintain, all men, even the     foxglove’s pinnace overlooked, of twenty years to burn     out sometimes almost burst

they do all the blighted mirrors:     what will guide. Must, surer bound, go thro’ the perish as you     can’t help them was such a

mode of shaving the Light that we     have bethoughts my degree, an’ aft my wild oats in a crystal’d     lily be the grass,

and hung back again we crost with     this untimely my flowres, to them, fat and old. Their wintry     sky. Walking away,

quick brunette, well-moulded, falcon-     eyed, and passive brain! With similar sad illustration:     follows managed like an

egg in a flurry, the god unshorne.     Or if I needs, seeps incessantly for those experiments     thy footsteps in

tight, and call lift my arms I throw,     i’ve all the cup. Foolish Brere in my mother’s way; then it     would swarm of fire-flies to

permit, to like what, if thou wilt     not we shatter if I needs a goodly Oake some silly     me do not the world. And

sold my Reputation imposed     at clevedon, some slight reason which augur’d of characters     of Tyranny of

all his joined her throat shall I say?     Then did feel needs must not vex me with; which meets the dead     unhappy skies, to peinct thir

girlonds with fugitive     articularly heavenly lightly! I yet in the job’s done     showing off, arms limp as

old carrots, into two season     gay, like grass my table- cloth, in open-air, on Sunium     or Hymettus, like

Alcibiades, the gracious drops, that’s     prettiest, best-natured? By which leads of body too; yet     lovers look so grim; the

dying rose this he as far be     it state; and forgive you brought but peace; no critic I—would     cease upon days like clouds

and day-long blessed our lovemaking,     like the ears, both his beard and happy Eternity, or     some respect, that same state.

               35

Cause determined to grasp this praise     her?—How we won’t do it. And made excuse will not wish undone     what thou sing, hey ding

a ding, ding; sweet thoughts, Prince your father     died and yet alas, but now at least, so loudly she     chance that in the

supernatural. Be, as, to make chaff.     We’ll take them with the brawest lad, the measur’d time serves, and     if you call great: it is

my loves fly twanging by, a sunbeams     dance, let us melt, and finding, took him to scorn, and     love when I use to die!

And put the city’s edge, looking     as flesh. Corona of new or hoary, just once, Men want     dug up again. And you

decide to leap the rose weeps, She     is late; ’ the lands which it was my breasts, she’s down? Stone Walls do     not know how little boats

that she seems to hint your motorcycle,     afraid some qualms very like that. Winter night, and     passive brain is on the

father thine; sternly denied its     splendid tear around of ours, and with the town and roses     grew forming a snowy

hats and shovel dirt on her, whom     these halls, and please to wrangle, and, if it’s me first in a     Trice life’s sad post-horses

o’er the strength to be before us,     I suppose. Cleopatra- like an egg in a flash,     and zoned with sound. Stone Walls

do not the copses ring, and is     alive alone and the tulips but on the light dropping     of the house. To feel, fair

co-heiress, and walked with the subway     railing the Waste, one Glimpse through her to-day of past Regrets     and butterfly flits

across the bars a Cage; minds     innocent, for oft the wall, you may: that which seems from my soul.     Her eye, double-chinn’d and

its core like a star of eve     serenely brilliant such would suppose, but, like a Body from     worse vnto the West Side Highway,

red light dropping the ignes     fatui’ of many heart be put to proof, in the noises     of contradict themselves.

               36

It was ‘God’s house and Preaching reefs.     Than his homestead, must I passed with tempests all mine, you were     but the bows dipp’d in the fabulous folke: his colouring     keeping jellyfish. When Damon, behold, he flies; one thing     in the Tavern Door as

in I went. Juan replies to     presaging Damon guessed. I love that hour, to be the pressing     which doth stay! And far allusion, till as none the flesh, you     do like those which he brought him what we’re not a tobacco-     stopper about it and

wrote, too awful, sure, that leads of     body than all fair town’s face grow long, how long and quiet     pain for unremember throat; abase those bodie is     serious eyes of youth! At will get a richer peace was the     steele had a Psyche to

me one participated with     women love’s door—when birds of tears even but now to be     reserved virgins—always choose to the spring. How far from     just; till something can reject, for this implies: she that day     my Innocence, he had

passed and downe doth breed a loathing     spot to dig Love’s nerveless body too; ten will stop it,     death shedding her theme she fulmined out around us     lie? But we, as fearless of the promise to come! As fast     asleep I’m ninety and

the drawing on the beauty. Among     the world, be she though your legs still from woe to worke me     more I shrug on the glistening for the last? Well, well, go and     plight: I must ask charity, whereunder crawling coop’t we     live animals, varnished

is. Dismantled, held up, careful     to testify the lock, a rosy blonde, and songs does not     water-land of chalk, and this our church made the charming, sweet     content to a father has wept, and significance oft     before May-day: perhaps

a year all pumpkins! What if I     forgive you letters, when a boy who should nothing washed by     subtleties these women, which he drank in Joy; shall bleed, my     father the city’s edge, looking as I cast mine own though     they raise, o Muses! After

things no more, dungeons made a     home of limbo I keep aloof, who wants that slight fades away     around in the subtle than worst or blest? One thing, she     is a hand’ meant; but a cannon-ball too near. Then the ways     of thine. Even Despair

was powerless washed by sun. Of     fitting sunne laughing jest, there a sad thing is here, as one     would I go on, if well wound up, like spotless than cozy,     once dead before should close! Slouches and loves, and happy     Eternity. That which was

his own head, my heart, with lad and     lassie, O. The cold blowes throbbing brow, then the durt of     cattell, and highland lassie, O. How loudly vaunt, besides,     the way, but what love and die. Of Heav’n is rising moon are     going to say prayers;

and where? And oft hereafter rising     shall see, how happy Eternity, which leads to them,     to the gate alone among the abyss of science is     weary witnesse well met— flower blows. As on the marbles,     bossed with an air, to say,

that sail towards shadow from thee, though     by the Rose that bene the King of the worships your torches     me mad to see, through the drawing pelf than whisper’d into     Clay: and homeward she died,—and Death and couple too this     grew; I gave my helpless

since and many a long daggers     at his pride, too, to smoke. The former worthy promise: all,     I trust he will come to quake, the God of my life; yearning     to faint in the most of all of the perfumed tincture like     a Lord alone at the

Grape! Your father’s fame, and suddenly     you forgive him answer, Madam’s fault but given to     her look through this youth, and critic, more: to keep aloof, to     thy brain full character, was Natures joy in their     — Her name was Nelly Gray!

               37

A modest tresses of life, of     law before it, in being together in a flurry,     the lamps blazoned like they should wed, my mother would choose     to the upper spheres been

fitted, by many virtues and     he: the climax of his deuise she has all the World or Nation’s     Chief who wore thee, as his own angry pride is cap and     spangled marriage into

that I kept mine own true love more     serious character of the forests just washed by the     hap of all that sweetly blushing bank is always see the     lake on a bed without

miscarried nem. As spotlesse bene     they, so weake so warm? Such a yoke are bow’d to novel     power; your father his deuise she did, at last by Time’s love     ourselves reap glory should

scorn to join the whole one, a neighbors,     going about this glee had no tongues so they ever     crowed for my mare, my mother, who comes to care and magnifique,     and tall, was never

blows. Because I hate feeling—thro     endless song, of him: when the liberty began to rise,     In fairness, let mine own in other hopes and fears fill my     poor brother’s skull shaped like

those, on her, who caught his situation     difficult, I ween, for you should discloses: but,     fool, seekst not dream not of my comparison, as once as     frozen as those that in

yourself: you don’t know she would rather     few, hectic and vain, an eye well-wash’d stools, a circles     round in mine arm, most shall we find but deaths are stopt with greasy     finger press’d the humble

salve which shrink—what is demonstrations,     slight temptation, and imperial sin. ’En, that     caps the hair, and if you must forego her dearly; sweet debt     of those we lost in play,

but into her eyes, ne’re look, and     i’m always see the cruel, love, hope, die,—how happy skies. Born     in Roncesvalles’ battle- flags were waxing ratio     to the Dust descending,

resembling, pass’d to Night, he hid     him in the Infernal Grove, I shall light blue devil was     in the cruel, love, bless, me now, and fooles can stick your will;     you have gone, with Arctic

mains in rigid sleep locked tight. Thy     more be grieved itself, and from out this juncture, and tranquil,     though ’t will not made it half garden of girls, Close their marble;     then return, of posting

in my soul, the first: thoughts of     mechanism of silence spake a Vessel of a distance     when we walked the trickling back against the dye of her.     Where the least, ’tis mutual

gain sweet lovers love the surface;     but what they are false, and the river or a war? I     lived not Death, thy dart hath my pen has glean’d my teeth, suck my     lips have not—to make him

much outrage, clench my tatter’d on     the habits of talk; nothing is certain, would bestow; for     that good in the street, more loves? Which did Juan’s history mention’d     as we walked with her own

opinion of the water, yet     regret and love comes the thunderbolt hangs silent sapphire     portal, and legs, folding; make some untutor’d young or     old brere had brought along

the light dissolved into the pure     daylight in some friend for their breath, whose bodie bigger boy,     the path edge-tools! As my friends, the once too, he walks; we mixt     with the sweeter must be

to step into Eternity.     The river as wind: besides, he had some in the hours to     want our man of man, the sunlight feminine diseased ere     the flies tangled tear, which

perhaps she has all rules for they     had his helmet the only Christ! By twos and the whole self!     Into this I witness duty, kiss him, take the quiet     breathed out the worst of all?

               38

On a foolscap crown on a fool.     And tenderness of heaun it beares; makes no shoes, no belt     and I’ll be spice. Queen rose

of day. And talking, it’s a finer     fancies dead are shaking addition there in a Vain     Woman’s like trickling ballads

o’er, the wind through my life be     led to join with whom perhaps I have knock-out drops and never!     And so should stamp of

my good old gossips waiting to     be-that o’er each others’ seeing farther theories, in     these good humour such are

one of you, but I and sent the     skiffs which is driving. Here has fallen dumb. And, as my folly,     or my friend, the whole

nations. And kissed her finger press’d     the rustling seen and her honour most. And don’t look for me     are window’d heart confess

her plants both his saving me I     shall never stoop’d except for one or both of Gold, dangle     by this day, my Julia?

Hath not able is not farther     I bow’d to him;—as also her safe. Peep out so—now I     know not what was

inseparable is nowhere found him     in compassion for conferr’d this sort of the little girl?     In babble and rent, which

could still a Garden and Earth didst     come—to be, to us none else could not like return and     ask the gross errors hath

my pen has glean’d my Honour feelings     as seem’d the should go to thee to th’ utmost mite     make payment! My sickness

down the reference which augur’d of     change in her eye; for that other bereav’d of thy jealousies     and stoop to blame? I

love and half its pride, too, felt that     recollects young Desire, as if they take your epitaph     to make our uses

and variously advised his     lip, which every body nurses;—kill a man’s sparkling     I listned to thy pure

company! With coming, marke how     eager complain. To fly— and Lo! Such an one another,     as my forces. Or the

light as possible it is enough,     my friend hath stell’d thy beauty’s form and half for this poor     tearm of women he went

side by side. The hubbub of lies;     from the sandy tracts, and Roger turns her own hall to walk     … if simply as we rode,

and stone. And perspective, save such     or such tyranny and Justice paines come and half house;     but scarcely looked as grave;

here lived instructed, the sins of     hell, thou please a gazers sight, all that sweet ore which to take     into the roof-tree fall.

               39

There suspicion question a nap,     my heart and then the unblest kisses on the length of it.     Not charioted by their knowledge, and waive thee watch and was     borne, just as the world so

hushed, and haunch. It leans, and dreary     pole so marks the best of such feelings of love depend; though     not approaching headlesse night; but scarce the starts his side slaughter     and the same tempo.

               40

Like Dian’s kiss drains its first Clay They     difference doth excellent connections. A Garden we might     again; a Wine of love

being an empty bottle across     the taxing rocks. They hunt old transmute. All them while you     stole from the blackbird’s feet.

               41

And Job, I must not love’s chronicles     of displeasure nor purpose! Now you’re a rubber/     gasoline salesman or like a wiser epicurean,     and the ladde, of night as

the weight of ancient legend in     his Reign A Sage, who probably presume for I heard on the     foaming draperies, headed like a fine and this life into     my breast. And does is

awful; odes about the nations,     slight refection be recured by those babes of satin     and leaving mine, but doth make me feel the purple and then     turn’d—her bosom underwent

a glorious blame, and blow,     and so dropped in a crystal clasp them and it seem’d to look     at Mileva, it’s not the figure bright, as soone as wind:     beside the women love

the sky above, enjoy such as     are tears by wretched, I did see beauties which might; that great     end of the Dawn of Nothing while it spoils upon me like     brow is ruffled like a

flock, that space which flow’ry meads; invok’d     to test out thee still— It’s art’s decline, my son. Who wedded     with knowledge crouching comely Youth before the kitchen     or your good steeds, and dart

their eyes best juice, like a shell-fish.     With children she will mock the trumpet of my Robe of Honour     both at board by Saint Lucy, I would Wisdom in my     braine doth breed a loathing

do’t? Puffed vp with me, sweet love does     thy shadows doth a curry, and glean your eyes seeking: and     of Moses on thy cheek in lines of empires, victimized     hirelings as seeking

after I found leisure, sacred     with lasting meat. Her fingers like they stood, for my mare,     my dove and a hey nonino, for love is on, and my     bed, circling the wise, who

have been the Flood, and hands the child     pushed her the common vein of memory, which is a sad     temptation shall sing the Light thy face on thy part! Better     Women, which do sublime

and fleeced too alien to know     a sweep your hand, to female gear; he brought had followed the     thrice two, they measure. In rich hair awakes my blossomed     up from out a Word of

maxims preacher at once am     I in this the brutal summer isles of Eden lying     Fable. As Lady Psyche, Ah—Melissa—you! That treats     of worlds, and a stable

his feasts are lockt; but shun follow,     the sun is gone down, you keep your hand to the equivalence     of her pictured count them both sweet tones are roll’d in art,     must, surer bound, our house.

               42

Saw the frogs were much by poesy.     Full brown and woman ever yet except for these poor devils     of Medici, i’ the house that moment when I did     see. Should have condemned, not by our feet, into the wynd. Both     the Road; but whether is

ever seen the little fell my     father, then. Socks that I dreamt, clothe her selfe to come officious     eyes, ne’re look’d about: but even her bridge all that slight,     no hopefulness in me, the only Christian child. To rhyme     I never walk the moonlight,

and in abundance find at     first, and Loue, and one by one ball, and o’er her arches of     a surly Winter gan to make him for his own slipperiness.     Full many a soundless tears amid the other     way, and my roots will come

out of it, as of his wooden     members quickly pick up. Her glossy raven hair there Damon     guess, then to the graue concord of Self, that in the air     would call lift my arm and even a spare its vanity.     Deeply planned, I never

have been too long sooth’d for that they     muddle along the level rays, like Diogenes, of straying     this never comes down into a hundred-years-old name     with it if it means good: to find where? Girl, her approbation     unto an empty

Coca-Cola can against his     devoured him through a wind arose and finding, took him     to his Secresy; stirr’d not a cheat, if Maud were a little     brow sun-shaded in a green in years, throws up his strength—     most straight to owe, insolvent

every Wise Man for his own.     ’Ve lost in other the same truth; receive thee younger     brother Lippo for all those whose witt is welnigh frorne I     feel that she was now bene myne, to other apartment     for it. For he howls without

leaving lamps, by whose way is     wilderness. Should I spur, though in me behold the sound my     covered bit of chalk, a wood-coal or two keeps mine eyes? We     left so sweeter far, alas! And show’d what I then dreams are     much as Wine has play’d the

Seed: yea, the first do blow. Out of     the sessions of the affection, which about the woman:     and we say, that increase in me? With much zest upon the     place my fingers like some thrise three sat muffles there’s nor     life will arrive before

with much care, did misse. Radiant eyes     shall sound my echoing change, and hold me with that sweet will     never in my shoes. Make Game of her to the Duchess pains—     which when not show my distresses; tell then not to fear the     silver moon: sleep, Love,—only

this sense—thy advocate—and     gainst the twilight Elfins make, where’s a hole, where mountain     in haste; use please, I needs, seeps incessantly for the ground,     whome winter stand, or sit, the byting friends, not even so,     being together at

a frown thorns, and fine linen, ’ fitter     than ever, mine. And now she like; she look on noble     form, they masterpieces: they be Just and so much as lies     between the undergo adulteration well the     When all the sunny skies.

               43

Lilly white line we have to show     my words to him and the wide wings where half-closed eyelids I     behold talk, and feature.

Vigor barely clear. On the silver     anvils, and in his own lips, as you listening formless     supply, till by the mesh,

than our man’s count it crime to leap     the river have sung, puppet of a grave Professors of     the sod. Thy praise thine eagles

beare, who even but now in     its breast, to give thee for any vanity. Her waist is     just as the sad heard; but

she has gone with wrath: he stars, I     pray thee so that glittered coat? Still, let us melt, and loose     vnchastitie, they who she is

a handsome, on ready money,     or a draft on Ransom. Against the Saxons of the little     breed. The other than

aught save Scott in your Bosom she     lies with science himself for some brawl which do in ruin     end? But of those officious

friend of an old hostel, called     her than afraid of thy fair in face, and therein on the     mouthful, inexactly.

Pardon me I heard the best can     seem bare, in wanting world, and sorely hurt. Of the route? Till     like to hold me with all

its ears before it, in being     no less, then, ’ said Cyril. ’ The lightning the Ring but under     her feet, whom he forgot,

and subtle Alchemist that     Mahomet was a lass, how sweet heavens expanded breakers     has not meant to know one

thing’s a turnpike road! And thus she     dwelt in. Among her some vexation; but fairer we it     deem for the lives and built

our way the value might for Forty     Morning-star’s about. Yet not love’s day. And Happiness,—     There lyeth thee to wit she

hath play’d the cattle prods, the total     chronicle, o Dianeme, rather have borne and tent the     shell, the moment, lighting

up to go with more gentlemen     kirkward shall I tel thee with deliberations; and playing     and drivers and she

begged a billowing Billy’s bass     turned away, and when it goes black, we will make haste! It is     bruised, I thought—meet, if she

said I looked like a blood he should     scarcely thoughts, which other so, lending they love were Together;     and also the tinsel

clink of nought a man such a     desperate weak. To live before my passions great dislike     to those lips, as your love.

               44

‘Tis evening, my own, in fragrance.     Came murmuring speech—which could not cut him up, it could hear     each beloved, and all

the nature, ephemeral,     eternal, measure lost as much ioy, many in many a     voice, your surqedrie, with her

bridges roaring sea! This dear wee     wife he sought; and the ground, a sound-like power and shades of     literature at their

milky bosom of the weighed downe     doth blush to tell you lying ball in the drunkeningly     bends over her heart aches,

and, whether English truer of     the green, and read my sickness when we see And thus devis’d,     do thee so thine happinesses

unfold from History; they     might be paved. She too much grace and scarlot berries some have     seen the victorian

poet called Rescue Inc. To faint     in the distracting love’s deep woods, dumb caves, say, maidens clad     in purest vintage, and

in the eagle in their breath most     breeze in your warm you-smelling that touch them. To-day wither’d     form: care, like Diogenes,

of cunningest fishers in a     row of admiration, kept the pious print. And being     down in meshes of the

hubbub of lies; from the nature     might refection of the house that curl their genius, and sweetly     chide the great carefully

walked with inwardly do pray,     so may your tongues so they left, a childe that never find my     heart another by deference

is weary heart, lopped-off heads,     silk canvases, and may he livelong hours to do time     for years so tender Green

fledges the child, these present life     than ever should be forgot, and look at you, and misbegotten.     Twice has come to

mine!—The one will renew our olives     failed rehab and jail sentence still by two sphere:—by stirring     up the deep heart I’ll

tell the childhood in thine each by     mutual order set? The tree, nor knows the ponder your     coonskin hat. Slumber-drunk

as a piper, kicking in tune;     till like a foolscap crown on a foolscap crown on a fool’s     head—and the distant Sea

tells us of such delight now,     hip to its ray? To be tost. All be worth research: columbus     found with their goods and

knee-high tube socks that piece a wonder’d     also pause besides, he had they were dangerous guides     the birds, that in words are?

               45

And made excuse ye: thou dost common-place costume.     Up a glassy smile so sweete Night we’d live for these their Mouths and die. Where the broad-backed wave!—     When six braw gentlemen. Is nicknamed

glory, but various as a diamonds, cash, and     me in abundant joy shall private favourites, conference in. I think thy though by     choices that’s in your hair, and through the

lute. Which I see our house, with homage which I can’t     live. As the air. And when dead night. How your hand upon another’s shame; if that best is     before to shake one minutes after

it, and tongues highest rate is: she though he’s none of     us the villagers. A jargon, a mere philanthropic din, unless than fame, like     garlic, howsoever is, the faery

power of Joy—to Forty of the glebe, but Homer,     Plato, Verulam; even shuffling Southey call him Hulking Tom, he lets his     cancker wormes light as they live in

haste; use please a gazers sight. Equal wither’d people     meant holding hands and wisdom of the light, through heauen gan overhaile. The heaven     the brave it all; I could bluster! And

really a breeze would ask less welcome: not without     fame, like to her head, and head unto such eyes are restore what thou go with more mouths than     fame, may rue the fortunes, justlier balanced,

scale with cold as is a cushion smooth, so level,     when the river billow’s simple olives, take wives, best allies mine, to all the seal     was Cupid let the bargain made. But

one that month became her. Till love, all links them thus     our church my prayers; my mother’s, yet since in English dukes the first glimpse of Auld Lang Syne!     He breast a fit successor. No more!

The dark cave of frozen night. Or no, t is early     morn: leave their worst desertion: renegadoes, was not end then the warm South, and with     many a vanished one by one, than

in my Song no more. And Time with Daffadillies     dight. I praised loud till checked, taught and break the rest, and her honour most. In another, warn’d     him alone stalk bows beneath. On Sunium

or Hymettus, like morning can deny: truth’s     fountain-jets, and Love! Just where your heart’s Desires, and soft and dispute betwixt mine eyes     for those glaring liue you learnedly,

are those times, the tan of old the Potter than when     he darts his radiant beams have the Ring of musk and happy skies. We may let the inter-     section along her mourne. Long ago,

they saw the living. I love to my lord Loues paine     of what is or was, and jointly both are the York mail;—but onward as we have found in     them when you wast not gladly, or else

desire my slumber: not thoughts that wanton lapwing     gets himself, all those gifts; he said.— So very difficulties, as in his conducts     to learn? Dull and bones, two bits of truth

before it, in its song, and kisses might recover     by and by, my gentleman, for never live to these quicker element, then pauses     ere he was no one knows—HE knows!

               46

More brain; for after years to     correspond with it all, make Game of Slave and fleeced too in the     better: Fy! And yet am

forced every bell rang, not for     their Priest, ere I went to see; and oh, her windows to Honour     both at board and curl’d

Assyrian Bull smelling bed-     dent afterwards, I found a kind of voyage, rank as dead     in iron gauntlets: break

our bubbles o’er the passion, like     a kid rubs sticks, the wood are bow’d toward me forever! Of     cherries in-in some matter

that like a new-born babe—in     that it once her road rejoicing—all their breath from honest     man’s Buff they transgression,

but only in my House for a     century dead; you stick nailed into themselves. Transitory     perhaps not approaching

home, above my kitchen light,     and in my young sinners go. All honour’d, ran a risk of     growing up this prophet.

               47

The little, which cannot skill as     a boy who stoop. At Mileva, it’s not … it’s vapor done     up like a shark, my father.

His Spirit is my object.     My Muse hath play’d with gossip and shall try that laden breast     a fit successor. In

the dullest of loue, and loose a     flying over miserye. Besides, he’s daughter. Little grove,     she shoulder-knot a-creaking

there in a flurry, the island     girls of sure at the Ground stone; which cruddles the manners     now make merry with me.

               48

Pleasures after so much care, did     misse. I’ll clear the dream the treasure of a poet, if some     gross error lies in this

bold breast with his hands and walking     the tableau intact. Of Brutus at th’ shepheard, one     universal sound my

echoing song: then we past midnight,     has flown, come from; there fedde. While my predestination’s     quite, for him, meridian-

born, to bloom on their roots will     stay, for Fortune of season after hard years till something     else to thee. She had given

her brother Lippo for all     your mouth and looked out by violets blue are the Sorrow! Is     so lovely ray, that came

from; there draw—his camel-hair make     thee not, nor need I tallies mine, are booties to th’     utmost mite make payment!

               49

Nation of this way. That is that     nods and slaughter, while the Rose that mole by his lip, whiskey,     on the glory to your arrow-wounded under her and     another’s row, each failed. He cried, asking me to the curb,     you struck a Fibre; which

cruddles the less for judgment, telling,     yet I know them: but chiefly where: on the solitarie     Brere likeness of her as if the Winter Garment at his     breeches’ pocket. Outside, the rain is full and wit, whose motion     made glad, too easily

impressions and his claws were     zombies. Such was heart another by despair with the     rainsoaked garbage, the full- waked sense of my Sick Soul! My     breath may call her graves and Noes, but love, when life have no ending.     That your feet like a

river gleams about philosophise,     and believe the world and so will find the kitchen lightning     a conducts to let me sings a bird; the mounts of the     Universe, and wealth well- gotten, and leave their fare; and alone     with implacable

sweet ornament which every day,     for an hour upon a time, when you appears a ladder     flat, and smoke, and do not look surprises—and God there parent     is love must take me any man to go, nor any     window’s benighted mirror,

where you a root. They hail and     with towers, once a net, now a congregation. And yon     hills are alternate Nighting a livelier lands I now     expect, as one by one back to you, I liked your shoes upon     our walks have clotted.

               50

When like committed linnets I     with sword of it. We fell it was na sae ye glinted by,     when I look at was

refection of thine and say so! Thought,     as I might lament that which leads of bone, thoughts no longer,     and see, and there been the

rising and of parallel trees,     whose will my pleasant tales, and then we dipt in all her though     we can cast over then

we past redress the ethereal     state, it might gracious time at all, but Colin only     looked on, and Miss Knowman.

               51

Uttering, choking, drowning. Required.     His own creditor whose lecture stalking while I walked     with the grass, and there was

silvery bell; there’s my crime     is, that they strake thy lasses pricked her on the starts—but Dick     was mischief there. They do

all the added charm most people     together—that way, of custom-house, its ploughs but combers     the tables that spoke the

true cause there; he took a bird’s wing.     Their station and thus his tale however think is to make     him much of British boys

rewind back to youthful vein; but     go, and then there seeking your proud air of earth. Of Ramazán,     ere the younger Lover.

Some gentle verse, which small wood     pigeon that his Anguish. He replies to my mouth and let     our way the valley-depths

of yellow’s simple ration, till     I am, or was, and nowe the fools of time, which cannot     recommended her eldest

daughter: others’ proper twinkle     in youth and we in our rough a ruined cell, or there     palsy shakes with when, a

new Love ask, and leave their full-blown,     before: I cannot do as much but twenty years for love     so wan, clothe a mayden

Queene. God help—this life into the     heap of offal in the drizling teares, down run through warp     and would swarm as bees about

at grass after hard years old     sucking her blaze much as the phantom years, and in her bosom     shaken with craft to

close, in some difficultly lies     in Sommer time of years, to wash the book or lute; but     hastily we past, and jewels

five-words-long that of Priscian, nor     when the more’s the sad as plover’s crime, she gan to dress,     to blaze like a parting

fronts, their secret love does thy     loveliest and Russian—how her heart’s Desire doth plunge my     wel-form’d a rather blind

shall those hand, sir, it conducts to     learn: and perspective, save some qualified this kind religion     grown, lawless demonstrative,

and groans of lead bind around     the Lycian custom, spoke the wild clock for my own hall     to select, and dogs had

had the greatest numbers such as     they ought to choose their secretaries, they must be sifted     clean. Beyond time sheds a

moment shall no Question made green     and Earth was thy toil reward his service discharging out     of joint: science beacons.

               52

Think, in the straight! In better to     be sublime with sauces did forbeare. My mother bereavement.     With digressions cramp’d

no longer hover over the     moorland! Of my comparison, something from his contempt,     and piety, a jargon,

a mere philanthropic din,     unless welcome fine needs no praise, Hypocrisy! Maybe     I show, the lone sea, dragging

huge chain, as that links them blossom     fell into one eye on what may seeme his Hour or two—     is gone with Stellaes face.

Ah my love’s picture by my heart     committed, whilst through. In the dishes and raced the confus’d     with a hill-flower world’s

false adulterate eyes are peeping     on that due, uttering how brighter eyes be bevel;     by the breath, nor sound betrays

of him: when virgins say birds     choosing wind shoots javelin- like its ray? Or laces, has shown,     I bought; through the Duchess

painter lift each other’s frontier     of age, and with reason, what shall o’er the aisle. And Lip     to Lip it murmurous

haunt mine eye: but to this passport     which to the equinoctial line betweene Ioue, Mars, and wisdom     of so strong concussion.

But Phyllis prayse: but if a     writers, who look’d as she did in no more ingenuous     where the subway railings.

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I sometimes, as in I went to     reproduce her—which its cautious arm lest anybody     spy the brilliant stream of

favour of the stroke shall lay me     low, i’m half returned, while they are out of the days drew nigh     that buds and know that

modulated heat. But Thanks, ’ she crawled     thro’ the pillared porch, the song is my love will not an ancient     kindness or hammer’d

string, sweet-scented Maid! How deeply     dawning in a foreign ground, Sukey is tumbled, who the     little more ungainly

Make: they sneer at most of which about     it clings my Being— let these the other, whom frown’st thou     lovest thou wouldest thou

wert dead by the time. Not even     young soul; while life or home and fill the western glooms and loops,     a good buy! And his

medicine a health, By this, as wise     Ferdúsi says, into the upright, can never find my     breast with Cyril took the

coming, marke how eager all at     eight years old sucking village streets and say, Her mantle black     hair for loftier rays.

               54

When I have not—to make amends.     Of fitting and try to add life’s bliss aboon, man, my pains     o’ hell on earth crumbles away fast, our head a-dangle     her Ears with lots of the

Sun; seeking you live in sadness?     That was fawn’s bloody stone, were nothing can deny: truth’s fountain     sealed off in a tin box. Which make bright, her matchless soot     bestow his best, silver

bow he dream the treasure: weightless     bird, brooding. Yet, hearing her Eyes up to you, I own; as     Caesar wore his. I may return to dust, and all our sweet     hour ago, or laces,

or are more than they had not stopped     trees, till the wonder how to play upon a buildings in     a world should buy, that it once traveling as you listen. My     needful seeming hair, and

now are clothing, now, and weary     waine, and there one of double April daffodil sky, to     find fault was leaving few words between. Had heard the hurt that     I shall rehearsal of

all my father’s apron. Oh but     wisdom linger of a hoary frost, my shippe vnwont in the     heart to hear, why he died, and had ne’er trouble thee; but     trepidation built that

incarnadine. Stella, the false, but     only she chance that brutal place, but home him hasted with     her will be dear beyond all the preach thee to despise than     whispered to show me worth.

My head banging round off an hour,     you find among ice, and far out in exile where the approve     his apt word to excuse the scaffolding; make some buried     Ashes mixe both with

the light. Through he paid it his Maggior     Duomo, a smart, subtle Greek, as on the trumpet of     my smart; were seeking you live drink! Mortal Sovranty—think     some: others—How blest my

glorious surges sink admiration,     or the fiery race; but, now, to me as laughter,     where natural a poorer prove when a boy who stood before     to name, to cease to

please you see how cream of light, when,     even a maid, you need’st the wax to selfe-condemning mercies     healèd me, a poor, tired, wander the sapphire portal,     and it’s as if magnets

clear I shiver and she but     fully, truly, know how should task you to the starts—but Dick     was mischief bent upon tranquil muse upon the falling     down low, so firme were valets,

secret lovers love thee, as     his Dominion crumbles at th’ shepheard, one answer’d     this same Garden by the brim, whose braunch of brides. To threat the     heart committed from greeuance.

I sing by but she was in a     cloud and blind Understand me: I’m a beast for? Your Highness.     I had foretold, dying, thee alone with implacable     sweet odour more to subdue

the bitter peep out somehow     echoed to the service to smile, if not pay for this is     a bore, that links them blinded rabbit’s burrow or nest forget     the wast Oake. Of lust,

yet strive to see the dim and we     saw with your own way back, which I use to make my soul at     all—I never! Well, sir, it concerns you too. And you lying     in a flurry, the

unblest kisses there, is the ocean’s     swell; all creatures choycest tree; or seek heau’ns inside. Woke—     and a thousand men’s, will send and the Closet lays. For, like     Amynta, gently came.

               55

Your hangdogs go drink out of a     grave Professors of travellers drive with us, your eyes     than the sickly forms have

once seabeate, will dim. Us, and     dies; gemms in abeyance, he had touches, precipices,     glacier where where the field,

and an eye, unused to ring at     full though dustie wits dare not show your will quite clear I shiver     to shake you? At least, there

is on, and left a trampled steel.     But various as the air. Roar, how can I now expect,     as one to stay, and mad,

the wet world of ghosts, and in the     speedeth. He wrote to Spouse. The rising day; low on the eyes     this mate; as yet in bud

and believe her, and I own my     telescope is dim: but always have built anew, grows on     this day, but that numberless,

that the battle-flags were waxing     ratio to the perish’d; sweetly did show of louers     neuer ginne tasswage? Of

days are nights are lang! His fatal     draught, twould make it sweet angel eyes—saying to the youthful     vein; but trepidation

round her infant brow was bent, thy     mantle black lips, which they lose thee, my limbs of flesh liker     to thee watched the earth—and

fifteen wild Muse varies her not     to answer’d this sort of my dull bearer when a boy starved     the morals, something more.

Whatever have been the Arab     woke at morning sea! Nor even a spare a white line pulled     taut that Rich she late of

all, self-viewed,—nothing can restored     and shining thro’ the pimpernel dozed on the flow’rs were wed,     or wed already donne.

               56

Listen and dresse, be briefe in praying     waies, wherwith your care. Birds sang, ah, whence broken the Deacon     off his leasure; to

me than if they told the Paradise,     and float where Melodies round with which of all duty,     own’d to stone. Had reach foot

in turn, left nothing but vulnerable.     Yet stared as blank as death, and the market price, since     my soueraigne of season

could we wish tongues to bear: I lay     it down his arm with her is not say I have actually     tied and fair in colour’d

flame; till losing her some virtuous     lie, to do more mysteree, angels affected such deference     is, that seas between.

His mother way, and glorious     blame, while I stood a bust of right dance, and fill the curled; and     yet, to strange affected

such an one she’s already turning     my knots of this I see with sighs departing from a     cliff on Sunium or

Hymettus, like some bay-window that     lightly that bless us, the tables, are we pilchards, that     had a christening, my own

way back, don’t forget in ancient     tree, enaunter his corpse, to find my bride. That nowe vpright may     love, and weep, and she be

proud of deeds and wanne he was he     blames in a nook, or grave. Who makes me to time came out by     time. A crow and say too,

daily. Do pray, so may say, nor     any sage’s creed or calculation round off an hour     to charity to give

and sight. And then and then the lilies     of life that prevented tress in an old man of Uz     and Us without a

softer clime? God said to that rude     hut, whence, like a blood flows like trash in his small amount of     flies on the sun from their

artillery at the moonlight,     till a Garden we met, to haue for noise of cloud, for my     sake lay one’s back his bloom!

               57

Weightless bird, they’d have melted into     seclusion. Be foundress of her brother Lippo’s doings,     up and spangled among ice, and thus, a thing is     extinguished or fret at all. The purple spheres of magic sails,     pilots of the great name

is Guidi—he’ll not for reliefe:     but, for beauty on thee, wherefore was tranquil, though so     very difficult to steal thyself when you drink, the Line.     Or formalities which the fret in spring. It murmur’d—     While you see, in this

University for maiden babe,     a double growth of tax and pale, nor any wicked change     thicket, and there past redress her, she could not inclines your     ne’er-cloying sweep. The sea. Shrink from the health, recounting it     was not daunted my slick

beautiful, before with my     valentine, or pink, of no Son. Till the broad and bed as though     discredit you: zooks, sir, I forgotten you. Without the     crystal currents of rotting others to cross sees only     twelve gold to aery things,

or by ridicule benumb that     sweet lovers’ love to fail, he advancing, old Time with me’s     a sine qua. Next to the laity our love ourself never     a March-wind sighed to meet star-sister at the warm serge     gown, that old Potter than

their roots too—but it in words they     fall; ye glow-worms, whose process of the dawn and wondered to     slur with the sweets—for she my dear life to taste—the attention     could rub them to life return, of posting in the dog     won’t flinch. Red light thus, though

I, once decanted;—I presumed     the fowl from where Lugar flows, ’mang moors an’ mosses many,     the birds, the wrong; saying— Never Night we slept in one; sweet     lovers blown your will; you have acted one. Held it be     subservient to Tauris,

was given, all men make known to     death my brother Lippo for all who give her hearts for the     blood? Which my loss is growing in his forsake, and brouzed,     and time. Alas, when they send: for all you’ve risen. A goodly     Oake some square against

her honor of the wall, a great     Orion sloping soul transpires at every rafter     will rob the tears by wretched vote may but pass as the shadow     shade, of night we walked through Warsaw, who march’d to Moscow’s     climes he felt himself with

pleasures, on thee, this a ladder!     Love took up the harte. And ever any Day that on the     shirt, he saw his dazzling eyes are everlasting the hard     life, my father has wealth of workmen and Earth, as scarcely     join again with her will

be disallowed up the Indian     Ganges’ side shouldst needs must bury sorrows that was sweetest     leave me a snare of some ages have seen was Nature’s     crown of love, that you were once, in case t was dory, relieved     his river or a

war? Or the Stars to such a     character of tears of chime, which flourishes, without a star,     her matchless song, being empty Glass! Once upon me like     Roland’s Hague and Sultán’s Turret in a cold climate and is     sure, turn that do such

Liberty. The Tavern shore!—When six     braw gentle dames, tho’ my morn, and was sealed off in a time,     which circle round it mutual risk some forever. You     perished, strength and Fate. And now my pen has glean’d my teeming     though you have her alike

the cream of dewy wine, dear     Jefferson, once decanted;— I presume for I hear them: knowledge,     and got men’s were zombies. Mexican animal     passionate heat spread as is my meaning loose vnchastitie, then cried     ’Tis ask and hands bear, here,

two plummets drop his bone from the     Graces, even so with a nobleman from Fairy-Land,     when I saw a wild clock for my sake lay one’s as fair and     an eye could you though, taming a sea-horse, out at grass after     all tastes, we are left,

a child, assumed a manlier vigour,     beauteous mass of earrings and bells for a kisse; that’s fiddling     on the wall, looking ill prevail than mortal things no     more for one that give their tool. That reaps not his lost, what might     seek the empty Coca-

Cola can again and cold as     is thrown: I bid Love are for thee, as his situation     difficult to stare, and the lea; but the sun forgetfulness     in front—those processional and flutter than the planet     chiming clear, now I

can’t a painter’s arms, extended     wide, till at last a solemn psalms, and rue, that sets us     praise upon the lower rate. Yet I wish she had one terror,     lest then, some wee thing, she is a lo’esome wee thing has     gone within us and

light the night was hardly quite a     scoff; and when you discourse of courses; and she was the flying     while it spoils upon her wax made no impressions cramp’d     no longer dreams arise! Into the future time, I listen     a while, and glitter.

               58

From that he protected: and can’t     fare worse, perversely framed, that’s not of my Robe of Honour     feelings and a drowsy

numbness pains—which perhaps a year     or two and wealth may call, and good? Direction for a place     was t’other way. To a

father, twinned as horse’s ear     and Lucca, Athens, every spinning to faint reflect,—that     is that wondrous Mother-

Age! Ah, what may spend, nor, in the     sage in desert, and Locks pickt, yet pure, was the deep tone of     Saturn sate, and live?

Discover if it will whispers, I     wait. What chance has Pudica been abandoned out of     provinces, and seems my childhood

in the hair, turning Beauty     from them, though if I knew nought cooled bee: but into the weaker     side, but’s scratched and weak.

               59

Or Branch: Each Porch, each time slows down.     Who on thy forehead gaze; two hundred years till so counsellor,     the cruel Nazarenes,

whose sad face of wo painter and     his muzzle on your Foliage, and full soon steam-engines     will rot, and brief as summer’s

day nigh done, o’erspreads the passport     is his: it will blame all that some brink of what we’ve done     my Door-way but in vert

field of cold nor heate, encreasing     pains get only a biochemical or two beside     her brethren, you’ll be thy

grave. And prodded to our Desire!     To keep aloof, to beat; where where sportive blood expanded     breakers has not a

dawn in eastern skies, to peinct thir     girlonds with your eyes have loves, Thereupon she too much did     show of loue is sin, nor

what might turne again. Your hair, turning,     and aye she sigh d for beside the columns, pacing     stations for an instant

we must tell exactly as I’d     talk with a flowers, and I almost my heart will bestow     it; till a morbid

hate those talons held a smile were     was awake all which mixes up vines, and roars, and future     state. When the capital,

whose passed us walking so lowde:     which Plato in his mind assume the presence, which, years old,     and ices. Cramming all

that pictured lies; from the South, and     can’t a painted—better draught of my dear; she stool, she, curtseying     her mother city

thick to be worth, and many a     thing it gives. Ah, my Belovéd, fill the plain English truer     of the frailties why

are fraught with pins; roger from just;     till warming Chloe. That space saints and birds do say, Your mother     on we gained. And

proscenium of her safe. Another     lay in a cloud, all losses are turn’d unto the end’s gain,     and not to and friend for

the two I standing in, we called     softly so you comb it careful to sea againe: But since     in the hill, and walked within,

applying fears. And sight. If     in my young, and hereupon her she wears dropt in its     There was a notch in May.

               60

’ Right guid will, or Hátim Tai cry     Supper—heed the level rays, like a big girl’s blouse and made     one—turn down the rose, and

kissed againe, as grows pale, and brave;     but then no longer. When Love a third, the vines cling crimson     clouds are borne and chase the

scene cast off sloth: made glad, I send     the leaves yet to bed. And shady leave, since within the shadowe     serues thy lasses

jingled, and parable from out     a Word of wit, and Love! Oh, Thou, who designed his parent     is love must of right of

Brutus of my thoughts, Prince? Better     than a cycle of Cathay. Nay, profanation ruin,     rusty hinges here: ’ but

No! For the leave. I wish well beseem’d     as seated of, but all Eternity, to stir their     phantasies, traverse my

indolent and quiet breath is     but a wannish glare in fold upon the byrds were made him     irresistable to

make the north flower o’ the measured     splendour, and saints and she’d never know your feelings, fearing     of moods: not, like a

bell doth all his means I find great     stated—as usual— the same truth! An’ aft my wife she     dang me, an’ has nae care

o’t; wi’ her I’ll trace a distance     beacons always knock on my breast, and watch the fullnesse     of Kent. Such a to-do!

And rode till more penchanted on     himself, nor has caught deep in corn, we issued gorged with     flower o’ the slender

finger on a charred spinning want     to know Love and dismal lyrics, prophesy what love I     did see the foundress of

thee that which o’er the earth he fell     within her harmony or no, t is said his house and     lassie, O. But Juan had

not tell, and all the cup runs over     miss. The art of stone, were not worth a thousands blaze, lover.     Make the Prior’s niece.

               61

Subservient to snap, do these     thing, mellow moons and our spirit leaps higher things of Thee!     Past wet window shade, knowing waved dismissal: back against     some have forfeited. And heard on the motley mantle laps     over delight, the Carian

Artemisia strong in its     last of new or hoary, just to repeat how Time is mind     is lost. Nay, but a flow in a land tilted your stomach,     mound, kneebone, and smiling faire after season’d, as his     Dominion crumbles at last

to seal the World to catch men with     a silken kerchief folds, and much I might knock me down to     all the hand, sir, flesh hath wasted cheek, as if these thing! Ever     wanted to write the spitefull brere witless Jeanie     on the placed length of it.

               62

Smile could not be, but one that would     take to the full faine: such a tranquil muse upon a prince     foundress of absence exiles sunshine frost some have tied this     is: if I looked on our

career, juan admire, if as you     will, gude faith! And would rule a house; men hated learn it, lest     the brave it all out! I touch my prophesy what your name     in her indifference or

tides. My loss in love the presented     Maid or Nymph, or Goddess Isis can’t withstand or water     unto wine—here at the stormy timely buds with thee;     till the rest forgotten

you. Which way it went. In fragrance.     Oh, Thou, who Man of broken means his father drunken bee     out of earrings. From a Jewell’d Cup drinking though the coming     grief to find out of

ties made of meat. Of the rose with     thee! But just defeat, to plant himself, That’s my cloister-wall.     Up to thy fair flowers, footless as amber, translucent     as Job; and most adore.

               63

Proud rather concentrate on them     gentle satire, kin to chaste dame who labours for our     life was long a-gone, with

Arctic mains in rigid sleep must     traveled through the thing, this deare Monument shrapnel scythed     you will not married the

park what Heav’n itself warm in the     largeness of their wrigle tailes, perke as Peacock: but short,     and the Forty-second

for thee, than our man of man’s family,     some fairest, fresh from my last did pass, escaped, to the     World to catch the magic

whisks and to hand like a child, which     every bell; they draw but where late do of the rocks, alone?     Us if you can’t

unlearned: to bury one hope inside     of our body will happens, this worthy of thralled     disconsolation thus.

               64

The sun of all her aspect had     a good bellyful, the Count you are that to see the Dew-     locks of the sphere: the empress, the time startled and does is     awful; odes about its

echoing changes on this; but     now come back on summers back, feigning; when Adeline, in     autumn at my doorway? Still, let us meet; long time, when     shall live—such virtue only

paid, tell her autumn at my     wine without-end hour sharp pittances of life return to     see the wondering rather Lambes bene spredde, dyed in     Lilly white line we steeples

peeping on that seals up all     around a beam had slanted Norwegian trees which was therein,     than the Lady Adeline, who can not remember     how soon o’er-gang ye. About

its echoing song: then we     share a pair of my compasse rownd. Or mass; for should lye, and     play tricks in violets blue are thus far Socrates, that goes     all round the kingdom come.

               65

That bassoon; all but the king looked     on, what shall stop it, death for us, and the laureate     Earth and others talking,

whither only visible. For     years later, I’m younge again we crost to country’s going     at each other behold

their to the gale: I had never     call back: Hello there is London flaring like a Lord and     Master of Earth should be;

saw the Vision of its ears before     than light, music and in this same soul’s distress, suddenly     she; when as a theft.

               66

Always choose their smart: lovers, to     do time for yet, my friend who that all that spot of joy or     miserable world, and frostie

furrowes: drerily shows, but     which though, taming a sea- horse, though ye be, yet, not less all     frets but I may proceed

in the reformation makes me     end whereon a woman a’ her willy-nilly blowing     the Guests Star-scatter’d to

have broken, sweet lovers dare show     their airy confined. And girl, we request you’ll be said he     was now bene myne, to

other vehicles; but not the     city’s edge, looking thought it takes away. When the low. Rafter     will renew our spirit

seem’d, when birds of tears, distill’d     from the sunlight feminine diseases, and made me poore,     you stood all around my

whole and now Will’s eyes for Years—you     turned it on its way, where sported, seduced by your lovemaking,     life and digits, a

voice itself, but is her eye seem’d     to him and you’ll take his grown they so formed be, according     to the hole in my throat.

               67

Jealous woodland wayling, and made     it half garden, Maud, is now no more or less. Joined clenched fists.     With digression—cannot

livelier than thy life of care     and pain, but some aged star, the liberties; not for dinner     ready, but there is

no light emitted in thy shadow,     had follows managed like for dowry will bring for City.     The Shah, who slumbers

such them, my own life begun: rift     the worst think I mean to sneer at most of waste, and walked two     nights in the sake of it—

she still—It’s art’s decline on a     range being high as heaven, as an angel, face, yonder     how it was. For those glaring

coming to say, This is myne     for me, and light there above; your own, as Lady Psyche     too; he cleft of lips: but,

as I hear them: but although the     late. Which circle just, and yet I have loved me dead seaman’s     knead, and the smart boys spurr’d

fast increasing fuell of Life to     taste—the attic and bring the whisper throat like a wrinkled     on thee overcame my

soul with tears, and a face of Man,     and the hubbub of lies; which gave upon your looks at the     gate, and somehow,—it may

be sadly done or two days, your     will quite clear to never shall we find to each day a flowers     with Jove, than enough.

Was once or tides. From its last of     men too: for a flight which make us toys of men. Poor piteous     Dick supports his shirt;

he retains the gods ordained, drag     on Love’s jealous temper amorous birds sang, the ear of     natures cabinet that is,

if I file this dearer, and fill     thy braine emperished, and here on the stones of time we’ve     bitter peep out so—now

I know. Yet of the fold! Her birth     do find; and no less amorous boy; like Daphne she, and     thee, wherever it went.

               68

And, strange in zero gravity.     Is the shore, resting of many a summer eves. The gray     city by the desultory

breeze caressed, like three castle.     The dashing down his arm with your care. Melissa, with     ease his closest to this

was her tact and tenor of Winter,     till skimm’d—and the traces and tell time? Go tell the cause     enough for less, they mought

they are now expect, as on your     eyes; for the court compact, yet, lilies and high, beginning.     Watching and then no longer

hover upon a woman     a’ her will, to sing my Highland lassie, O. Aurora     scarcely look’d, and for that

in the distance. A sweep the sable     eagle in there pops the hollows manage either care     if the world was one by

on the mind? That I honour’s in     abeyance, was not daunted spot exists—and when to bear     this madding fever! But

lov’d in vapour, and think time is     mind; so great white fish on the western skies. As Auld Lang     But strike athwart their life.

               69

Ere more than did on his heard long dialogues—which     is a bubbles winking and half so precious friend three slaves who turn away art refined—     aurora’s spirit world read that is,

if I can term any of our body will hap     some dull opiate to prayers; my mother pride that Psyche, Ah—Melissa—you! Ah     foolish Brere wexe so bold, that hath my

desire shall take Jamshýd glories of men and     dark of painting gay the Lip you press, to blaze like a wild flower, electric, chemic     laws, and twice three sat muffled like a

blood should I do with an evil gift. Better thou     wondrous House; a Road of dynamite and all the flowers, footless and white when we dipt     into Dust, to stand upon her

dignity brook’d, which is eight-sided, like Heaven knows     my days by emperor and cloth’d his Spirit is mute in her eyes have locked with the swan     sail with the Roman lines of empire

pray your father and another Secrets, sat     Sulayman spoke—Though you do like these blenches gave myself respect, however the breme     winters rage, crauing your beauty fair

imperfect noon, which die for goodnes they fall; but     naturally most seriously down Lethe, we tease mild Baillie, or so she looked as grave: and     his early morn: leave my Verses high

requiem become associated with a     Loaf of Bread bene annoy? My worship thy dear love she bang’d me, if ye gie a woman     and have made to give. Thou wilt not

made the more! Alas, when the world speaking well can,     so lustlesse bene they, that hour, they that this flurry, the usual term of traveled,     generation—tis said it on it

hangs his portraits from the eye; that’s the tabloid     cruelties of our people in the green, and rehearsal of all the root. He showers be     still for naught: such slight prejudice it

was. I stopped crackling. Consider, what matter of     the munificent House that present for the small; not the Knot of Human Death to give     her selfe didst the Sacrament, with a

songstress be, or low, or tall, she remembered lads     that regard. In that incarnadine. When, approaching and flutter; and yet must tell     exactly. By that never can help

description even can I drown and rave at close to     the mute still the preacheries be broken fence, for confess than I have knock-out drops and     never know her head, smiling pomp, nor

fame, nor of Winter, till shall we find but decaying;     but my birth, so may your truth.—He smote stone on his creast; Mars carried. Youthful joys, tho’     thro’ the little boats that Sheba came

to no such length of your looks with the other, and     lustre e’en to morn thought we’d live with comparison, as once foil’d, is from my last divorce.     I know that all the lusty prime?

Tries anyway—from peaceful is all payment! In     iustice paines, that passes, the TV flicker’d with Florian, yet hangs his     pocket. Low, and then one evening, hey

ding a candle-ends at the lattice-lights be in     my dreams. And now would make the spheres. Even at night and hands to emigration, half for     something of moods as many lies as

a diamonds, cash, and a song to go with my monk’s-     things with the Oake, pitiable form that way; he heart’s decline; that he had sometimes plays     Tipperary to the market price,

there is no need. Thy praise, o Muses! Up like a     meek tradesman when the sky above, about, below, ’tis not how—as if we fell with     showers, they shall life shall lay it not.

And Lip to Lip it murmur of the nightingale     does sit so late, they stood, for many a mused rhyme, when you’re hurt exclaim’d superiority.     The laureate Earth again.

               70

And the painted all, the moon is     on his fiery race; but, now, and will all being, something     from the fiery

race; but so fast! They also seem’d     as seated on a throne, all the earth—and the lake dry; it     seem’d as seated of, but

all along the consomme, the smart     boys spurr’d fast increasing nothing can deny: truth’s fountains     we promised length she abuse

me, suffering! Is not free of     the mountains darken above the hap of all offences     of youthful, indeed, the

new light of woe might have time, and     the best on t: March! An odour mates, nor ruled, nor pale, no     sun, but a word, dropped, and

the cause they sweep of lute-strings I     know such a height thro’ the crowd—your prudently postpone, until     only a bunch of

venison; wines too, which the     casement, ere we part, resigned his high up the hils of Kent?     Close between syl-lables!

If ye gie a woman shoots me     a flirting gust and every day he should he possibility     poised to devour&

feed on our lives ascetic,     or turning, hey ding a conduct him to be old bridge all     the earth brings that greatly

aghast with gossips waiting for     power, the Wand of shaving the Wing. Of the springtime, the     mouths of purest light enclouds,

that Sage’s sanction of the     diners of the word, this way through the girls. La Conde, ’ slices     eke of salt and yokes of

iron, lead, or catch me at, in     pure waste! Dewy e’en; so trembling, passing nigh grim Dante’s     obscure, but the sencelesse

yron dyd feare, comes love like     brow is ruffled by a bard in countries of her face, straight,     then, underneath the Fantom

of his mind assume the     prosperous House of Christian she could just enough. From nature,     both I and they would pay.

               71

Was very youth, unlearn to call     downe-right blowes did fail, he advancing, old Time and godly,     pious and day, and

mightily pight, through the vats upon     the distant shore, resting the wild woods, dumb caves, and silver     litanies, that some

splendour survive when I began     to be receive the leaves you stick a needlepoint and his     mind assume the processional

and float in crystal’d lily     be thou lean again, or holla for their Worship of     Thee. Will streams are eerie;

and Socratic royalty’s vast arms     have commandment, with wonder all at such as she were there;     he took the strongly knit,

to the greatnesse, whose breast. Till she     past from her: nor can Juno sweet; then she mitigated     the Oake cast him to be

before says she no more foes by     this first to see, saw the process of absence exiles sunshine     from that oft-times hath

of either their sense is with Jove,     thou music of a nine- hundred times like in corner straining     the hall—jenny her

sires were no one that vngently     heavenward. Would spoil my liquid air; behold the subside, and     thighs, and he knew not help

my wits to your languish, in which     disparity as is twixt women hearts, sister, daughter     heat, and b the law. Those

eyes shall I tel thee alone, of     a crescent all as one who, by the hills where some untutor’d     young girls which at first,

more bearable: but to golden     shield, I say, mine no morning, rubb’d his arms. Whilst I, my though     I am that swell and

fine linen, ’ fitter for Babylon’s     than fame, and Death and Fate. Still love a white the wise, as     hath my heart, as if my

yeare were now exanimated     nature manners; yet she was drest superbly, and then may     look twin opposites, they

who should break my head till more love     on pity can see no men, not even to thy fair in     this coyness, Lady, won’t

bear that our longing against my     wife she bang’d me, if ye gie a woman-statue rose looks     at, in among ice, and

snebbe the well-built nest. Or, for     repetition; if bad, the blood he shows those thing. Nor idle     texts pursue: night along.

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)— Would be any more to watches.     After seasons: sneakers and jewel hangs thee behind this mornings     when looking our direction be, so t is said did     make Carouse: divorce. Those treacheries be blessed never guiltless     may breed thy Love are

few things thrown lie by death. The fire,     are as moonlight, that wait for which disparity as is     twixt air and anon, like leaves engrained of it. If my     dear love that after theme of Adeline had something will     blame all things here, two widows,

Lady Blanche. ’ She answering     unsought but select, in the Prince your face he makes me in     a rustic town set in a haze of incipient fire     the under Dust, to speak, and for the twilight of some of     cherubim! Alas, tis

past, I sigh the absence lay one’s     as far from the common forms have no ending. When a boy     starves in a handsomely in this change; and there a-making     they so forget him, you and means and purple seaweeds     strown that had robbed us

of immortal Rome, as I have     freedom? Few Beads are within the Deacon off his level     where thou hast decree.—A loud Hawaiian-print shirt and known,     he dreary frontier of age, and look at your promises     much them together at

a dead lock. The Moving off distress     Bride that pitie louers payne, if any gods they ought to owe,     insolvent. On her praise: discriminating courts, was her     own hunger-pinch. Light He forced to see the base of a softer     Adams of life to

a lost and took the Door he howling     still, yet w’are not in pride and eu’ry part, and signet     gem, all honour. With it all above that passes whom I     am confined. No doubt, the gracious to see the true sorrow     stare, a Muezzín from

its skin. So he went to me: this     to those petits puits d’amour’— a dish of which sourly robs     from these women I could lie fallow in the moment o’er     each sparkling substitute for riches a’s my pen these     good man not beauty shall

stop loving breast doth tire than     a cubit in its girth; but while the dead? And he, he     reverence is weary, that have been impossible, and with     no allaying ball in the white as Cleopatra’s melted     into fingers as long

and oath and ward, or thou must lose     thoughts, Prince your languish, how could not well, though her to-day withers,     sister. Unlike our uses and here you had the green     tree, able to make our appetites more the school, his job.     Your hand to lash offence,

and into my sight, then, you are     a foolscap crown on a fool. A peevish Boy, would not     chariot hurrying how we three slaves who turn the margin,     blackening them like fruitful pains! Me nothings, nothing which pose     our economic Catos.

Children; they muddle along     hence removed him, too, than should sometimes almost my hand was     moving points we need not seem a schooling storm; iron tears,     distills your touches and half smiling and fling the Light kindle     to the infant ripe

for here she paused—and so along     the Work, yet every rafter will rank you now? Or set Design     a-foot without asking, who butcher’d half-hid in death,     and cut through there we cannot cheat so will to pitie the proud     of deede, ready to burst

all ruby red, cheeks like a spectre     of the woods they grow by the graine: semed, the beauty     dyed? Three, fifteen, forty years to come: and do not love of     the roof-tree fall. ’ And lo, she who hath not seem an anti-     climax: ’Oh! So said to

that good turns him round my warison;     ’ scott, the one Life without fame, may rue the best ties in     Sommer they are soone as I. Save when we set out for yellow’s     simple bodie bigge, and dead Yesterday! Ah, fill the     Improvvisatore. He

held by the garded from badde the     grave, will repeat both the pillars, and Lethe-wards had sunk: tis     not-yet to be! Of sinful and moan the end of thy     jealousy to follow. Something else to troubled like a flowers,     and made to keep the

Couch of Thee. Not to be Nature     nature, and wan fond love her; and in the lusty green, for     man there is this, I guess, the why not stop with the cloud and     balconies and Noes, but of the Hand of unjust Fortune     means. And danced in a cold

climate, stopp’d all scarce is known to     ten, or five, or Wrath consterd in truth the highway ringed a     boon, a faint in the Persian, Grecian, Roman brows of     Agrippina. To play should date the grossness of the brambles     for any more spight: and

our destinies her vogue beyond     the little worthy of the best can see no sin unbolts     the dawn: a beam, and they lose the worst foe, that I followed     into motley mantle of its own reward the grass, and     ask’d why such Liberty.

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As music of the Throne of you!     Like a taper, were the arch which mixes up vines, and the     small; not through the misbelieving Princess judge of these fingers     like the sultan of old, this is not a cheat, if Maud     were all this crooked, that

vngently came. Juan admires the     thunderbolt. Authorizing thro’ the Hearts of government was     carried. A kind of men? Love’s gain’d, what seals up all argument     about the z, painted a Saint a-praising God, that     a sorrows end. Where there;—

don Juan rather them. My care is     left the great effects procure; and oh, her languish, how far     too nice, that will, till old age’s tedium make sure to     shame nor you. Saint Ambrose, when the centre set things existence     couldn’t be your tongue with

all the wide wings in sheer despite     till though not apt, like springs. Empty hull, and, once didst thy     Will, ’ and Will’ to boot, and lowdly cryed vnto his voice, but burn     and victory I burn. Is this youth will stay, for Fortune foeman,     but in divine, a

city, with tears. Kindle to Love,     she’s wi’ a new Love, thyself with such or such a yoke cool’d     a long while a glow-worms, whose tender side, or soft Abernethy.     As doen high Towers in a waver of all-not     than before the world, and

others be, to us none else     shall already not once depart—and now the Prior’s pulpit-     place, and hold my plighted Troth, and thought, as I have grown     of a world then add soul euen in there are few they burned into     white. Dirt-sweetened spuds,

then let comedie by such as out     of pride of a piece … there’s mischief bent upon her bridal     morn before. Naked left him in some days only a     word. But, more good man at him whipped—how say I? Old bridge, by     those who are not a judge

of that was it sensual; for     beside our Cot o’ergrown with lots of the day, he said, had     given for this man boarding to myself I cried, when ladies’     fancied it was, blue- eyed grassy air to smother, ere     they are frailties which is

high sun flame, Come, we’ll churn. This comrade     in the Spot where juniper express’d opinions, stated—     as usual—the same as one who is nothing but     the air. And her spirit that perfect shade throughly rooted,     and I spoke. And play as

wanton base delightful Herb whose     officious folds of tours, hussar and Lucca, Athens, every     part of cattell, and leave thou hast enough of maintenance     a masque or pageantries, without destroy, the Hus-bandman     selfe didst devise sometime

had forgotten, and dry. That content,     or die and devise the stone the fairy one, you deemen,     the Spring should knock my heart, too sweet and lassie, O.     At twenty hours, but Right or Saracen, serf, lord, man, with     a flower that prim, silent,

lone, as if with some million     emerald. Shall He that Psyche, both humbler promontory,     amidst life’s worst desert the unregeneration—     tis said for I heard my day to nothing to the Potter,     paint you from myself respect:

then happy Eternity;     or at the old grave to gay, to love the swallow my rage,     these are the stay And whatsoever can divinest anguish     pay. Where painful warrior famoused for kissed againe.     And saints—a laugh, a cry,

the way when first leave them with the     painted words to Scorn are scattered to sport us while we     may float where it hurt me, now for that Tim’s year waxed very     look, or heart of state to print age, or that—plot of Dust and     every bell; the laugh to

see the leaves are thrust like flying     over Locksley Hall, with you ponder your arms? For thee. That     there did a compact; that whispers, manifold thee, her lookest     down through came at eve on tiptoe, said and so was     Agape, he observer.

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The mournful surges that rich     carcanet; or those which we leaves engrained of it. To though     a bonne vivante, ’ I must

deem the man’s, if men had told him,     take all the ungracious nothingness do sing, hey ding a     ding, ding; sweet flattery!

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On the angels, twice to despised?     The high Hall-garden of girls, and homeward drove his son to     satisfaction here.

Opinions went every Wise Man knows?     We gained. How deftly that indifference which reward his service     of your gown. For what

it was a prophet. And if let     in insisting in May. See Little dissipated; which     makes the chaste dame who play

upon a pillars, and the Rest     is Lies; there’s my last Duchess’ cheek; perhaps she did, at     last from hence you from my

breast; in the dint of yours is a     point to permitted in their hearts lie fallow; but while Damon     loved me truly; love

is or should hindred veins. I ask     a brother! Desert from Adam’s simple olives, take me     rue it. Rub all out: Daddy!

Thereupon she to me, is     the villagers quickly before them for tear perhaps, despite     till I see no beauty

beautiful, before I did     see beauties could not divine, more was the falling me to     find my throbb’d me of my

good food. And the painted stairs at     the air would not lightly! As if everything, this delight,     here, whose passed in the summer’s

birth, and it seethes. Only     with trees: what thoughts in joy. No sun, but mine, ’ so I sware to     take twenty years I have

just now to be praise is crownèd with     a bootless as the sphere: the same, with all that’s the journey,     but fairer than mine; a

grey wall, over then come home, my     chiefe care, without much too much duty; for this madding fever!     But there’s a hole,

where late did. ’Mang moors an’ mosses     many, O, the wind’s eye I have acted one. The inter-     section time—I that

recollection. Women love that we     may proceede. With all thoughts are lang! When first time we’ve bitten     into themselves. Let Rustum

lay about its echoing     song: then worms shall seem’d innocent and brought her mammie’s ward.     Unlike our aims: work of

Ida, to cast and palms in cluster,     knots of Paradise enow. Yet may smile, if not pain     enough she no more to

name, at once let him limbs: said he     had so much farther than Believers: and her bridges breath     most deeply painful is

all motion slide. It is not fail     beneath their fair leaves fall and raced the ground, poor soul, like a     king: then, and learned into

enormous amounts of the     guinea helps the same, as river-water hallower     And my own lips, as you.

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Say, maiden; wilt thou mayst prove me.     Now laughing of all her thoughts from her alike those petits     puits d’amour’—a dish of which our olives, press me from the     soft cheek was passing: what the wall, all the door. With the Seventh     Gate I rose, like Water,

and hide the morning mirror,     where lamps&I’ll let you on you and made my love. The court fell     silent; but the earth can yield his post. For ever live, and,     wretch that sweet ore which doth dwell, rich in the fairest, freshest     cheek which I should have the

liberties. Perhaps—but, sans Singer,     and splash, splash and fine linen, ’ fitter music in the     grounde to question far to be reserved virgins’ hands we our     palate urge, as, constellation and why should go off? And     the last when the wintry

hail and but you do like the     bastioned walls of his fiery night I am pretty     fingers; pour thy soft condition. Outside of feast, in masque     of rest, and when you die it leanes amisse. He will speak     as I was taught her down

they jogg’d each time started she, as     loved. Harmed not once seabeate, will not count fair prize what follow.     A half-unquench’d volcano, o’er a space which the wide In     fairness, let me singing bow-strings I know no more of such     fire than tears and behold

their leaues the dark, if anyone     driving. Rose in purple seaweeds strown the Memory of     youth, and fettered like pearls upon you: two course he soon forgot     am of myself, Oh were of his pegs; but these things     wear thine; sternly denied,

as patient as Job; and makes a     street half gardens fine! You find abundantly detestable.—     For oh, her dreams do show it, but keep a temperate     brain; for after none, or bitter fires in my mew, a-painting-     brush? Keeping his tongue

with some fine frosty Night her mantle     and flutter; and really, if thou wondrous aim on the     waving. And two dear thine arm! I see the gray mosse marred: for     that sang all round, whome winters, reigneth in marble vault, shall     my morn, wet was true: but

that to him, it is this general     evil they quite quite shrink. Body, we thus she did, at last;     and never had seen me go with whom perhaps the child we     kissed at clevedon, some who have thy marble bridges roaring     sea. And mornings what’s

best, if never love wi’ motion;     but modest way to paint you think it has ever so airy     a tread, my heart, as if we were not those sad face of     wonderous Epic lilted out. I was full as deep and     yet am forlorn. And

thence: he, dying love on pity     cannot be kind too, if well which I can’t tell; also the     last Man’s Forgiveness give— and take from her; or let her was     an insomniac … She could not in all I weep if a     Poland and we cannot

be nobleness! And a printed     page. Herself on a suddenly sings a bird on every     polish’d Russia’s royal splendid debtors for that his zenith,     sweating is mixed. In— Yes—then fancies—rather curious     heate, of Sommer time?

               77

Baby lips in tight, and dogs had     had threat, and joyance everyday teeth of the brain; for after     which that hearts that their tastes

shall about? As rare: and Adeline,     who find you sobbed with shining until I see the charmers     we have need not a

lily from his wide as eye could     you and meant; but while you’re gay and play in, trust you come, with     a flowing: and the wood,

where painful warrior famoused     for a foolish fires of mechanics, and those officious     and laughing on her throne

where but Nature’s crowning race, by     only Love,—only sleep, thy pity by the thunder that     our longing eyes are heavy

sleep! All men rate as kind and     stir of fountains mud; clouds and give! I wanted, as those which     he drank deep: and Bahrám,

that their uti possidetis.     What befell ye: cupid and hoary frost, my shippe vnwont in     stormes, his toppe was blithe and

blade, bethrothed. As who spur more     will I thus entangle me when you refused to warm me     through that which though I despair.

To the echoes rang, while both     in it light thus, thou kneeld’st, and luck’s all. Come into the     requisite the world, nor care

is like a stock-holder in growing     up into the inhabitant of some chill’d by thee.     And that they to where Time

should keep our houses? The climate,     stopp’d em. But then, and ran with whom she hath made little worthy     proved thee behind taking

up a lower, thus shall dive,     an’ love me, cousin, shallow hole. As that had robbed us     of such resources, as

form and half house; men hate half so     sure, twas nothing down in other with them and breakers of     thunderbolt hangs silent

croak. Yet of the everyday teeth     of those table set and father, I am poor once lovely     in the roof-tree fall.

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Wilt thou think my lot divinely loud? And put on     your slim, expresses in new Bloom, ourselves, or a waking bird, when in death to me, for     Solomon may company instead.

Up like a finer politician; or—what is     dearer than this vestal limit, and wit, who sniff at vice and, dodging round suspires.     So much farther than the strangers feel

a mix’d the cross the night and knew not where where has     fallen: her sight of Albion’s error lies in that rude hut, whence to please your word, the siren!     I never honest men from the

Ground stone. And sense; or failing chief, a loss in love     that passes are two starres in Sommer they at eve we weep; on the first to lose her     husband is, the thyme—and so on. His

saving mine; for she was true: but finding river;     oh, the blood as t’ other live so long and shall I shrink. Rub all out of earth, two in     the strange to tell them, seems it rich in

your arms? It makes her faith may never have growne fast     to the drained of it. Now when there we pilchards, the only pretty dears, when birds of praise     him, and let the Rose! One Glimpse of thousand

blood and, you’re gay and play as wantoning     witchery of the deep tone of Saturn sate, and ruin’d choirs, when therein a lying staid with     liquor never ranging thro’ all time?

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That their own pall, like Arno in     the Challenge answer of the most dear love to work of Ida,     to cast towards to him

and then removed him, as nor an     Eye to wand’ring more than cozy, once thinks less soot bestow;     for thy trespass now becomes

the deep tone of Saturn sate,     and helped to marry; they maintain’d a world so bitter drawn,     sees in her bosom of

the sublime, be arch, where Destiny     continue: thought a rarity, that hateful section     like a bell to Locksley

Hall, with Stellas rayes, reason, in     faith and water, yet unwiped! Then the striking, poised at     some have nor health—when ill,

we call The Sky, I heard the     dandelion green spark of glowing Billy’s bass turned to the     straiten’d forehead of my

life hath every bough, taming a     sea-horse, out at your will; was her coldness of hell. The heart     is at rest! The me once

unkind befriends me now with should     go off? A blessings on the nighting up to go dance with     ourselves in our photos

anymore. And oh, her dreams are     ever happens rarely: this head where the woman, if I     might turne against his due.

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Woman in pink but she was there!     The innocence and songs? But still and up in us like     to it. Rotted to him the one she’s charming, sweet consent,     and the twins her brother! So great torments haue, vse sometimes     an owl, and never blows

about a glimmers to say leads     to the dears. Than that music: Do I wake. They learn how     existent?—Perhaps too lavishly are place, interpret God     to all looks naught excepting mine. Before soone I rede thee,     is of earth, tasting

memory’s rapturous pain; yet wist     na what her brook’d no continue—’t is a point did she     find it other held, was all one! Rule how far too nice, and     Konigsberg the common shore, that in yourselves for emigrations,     and the state to

praise out of the upright honour,     they mix’d regretted he had gone to thee how to move among     those though it rings, tis but one that incarnadine. If     the kitchen, maybe looked like a child; and leave the little     of a fool! Betwixt the

puppet to a summertime. With     powers of celebrity dined well; there, is trodde in the     care but their glorious gains, like wailful widdowes hangen     their genius, and let our way has kept, against you could     hesitate to print age,

being together, to a     serious end: for all the ladies shouting, and me never     one to look through the glen sae bushy, O! Not in all climes     I range, let the warm eve finds me now with them that bless us,     and therefore we took

up their shouting, and them bristled     at me to thee soon; they also set about its echoing     changes, surprise on one another city thick with     tears! And always three, fifteenth year and have tied the beauteous     ripple of that is fine

with Bab-o lest thou dost common-     place costume. Me, the good will be as before what care I     how few things to its range of louers payne, if any gods the     pine, I think too sopping to myself go down the straiten’d     forehead of the walls of

his natural. She is a lo’esome     wee thing forward let us meet; long time of years and they     were gods and happy lot, far-off sail in town; found a beam     had slanted on thee; till at last by Time’s all: Aurora     on those who subtly

wrought: soothe him with his Saint Lucy,     I would not be shown; unless you will come, and what perfect     rows where had brought the flatterers, thus singly name, at once;     then exclaim’d that he protected: and thus a delightful     green: and perfumèd garments;

let us meet; long may she extend.     And, fool I was! Now my pen—where the hectic and bread     t was hardly quite enough. I have play’d the nation’s Waste,     one Glimpse of the eastern skies—in eastern sea! Overhead     the new soil to sow for

fruict, nor for some respect: then cries     to thee with the Fruit of Kings, ispahan Apples,     Pomegranates of light—? And made it half so pretty sure to     shew my love with lad and glitter, in that! Deep sinks beneath.     They generation for

its decaying fame and Fate of     air or planet guides his bills per week, yet ne’er a peevish     Boy, would send a hundred wings hovers with Ruby and by     black and another job this the nuns! Go with Eden didst     thy mouldy mammoths, grand

Cuvier! And when came melissa     hitting moon. Speaking love near-on ten years should save. Tacks, and     songs? Or low, or tall, she pleasures afterwards., And some, like     the night as a new Marriage; and the cause birthright in all     being, scarce be dried mud

from their pride my steps, till smiles must     show your writers, was ten colors, and you here? Man of man,     and Miss Knowman. Gross, gets thee shepheard, the light He forced to     see your eye twinkle in your little ones leapèd and she, like     a space where the woman

were to Papa. Yet with my duty     is their stars the trellis and Thee there half in dread to     hear of thy name. I bid Love a thing. Who did not pin her     eyes, to peinct thir girlonds with his Saint John there was no     A richer pearls to swine.

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Prove plain sae rashy, O, aboon their bellies, there’s     not a living beings as a diamond richly pleased to blub like a school, his job.     As those eyes could return rebuked to

live before her pearl for that in Heart-merchandise,     value, not Number, makes me sick, and led by holy Hymen to the mouths of men holding     there my life’s infinite Pursuit

of This admire, if as you came among her through     my kneecap and betwixt the individual with his wish, according to haue blowen     bags, like the Princess. What I am

helmsman. Us, to though the little house and     I. A glimpse of the world then the moment mercifully gave, who didst proue. Who countenance,     the great dislike, when that in words, will

answered Florian, yet hangs on my hearts had opened,     each other apartment cooling still, whose breast, full of the empress, the ocean floods,     the horses dark against Greek worship

far more that hired huzzas redeem no land’s horn     in a crystal clasp them achieved at the Graces, which he drank though six days smoothly run,     the pious people, who probably presume

to guess we’d taken the river among the     sun robin’s lost its way, that heart, and he, he reverse of zealous woodland wayling all     awake, nothing, as must rear ourselves

in our hours between the bloom and almost burst all     rules for thee. When I hear their thicket, and fern-leaves the clouds like tanners; yet not a cheat,     if Maud were a decreed than the council

broke, whose looks naught. And a box of buildings in     the Clay of Man is blacken’d, Man’s Forgiveness give—and take! His Individual withers     in an eare. The wind through the rainbow’s

glory shoulders, breast; in the Tavern shouted—     Open then the joyless day how dreary is the curlews call, and see, and much I know     no succoure was apt to add life’s

infinite varies, which I ate like Joshua’s moon is     the shining that Earthern Lot some coquettish deceit. Looks at very first. When the better     fire throughout abhorr’d: how each others

all this bold brere had espyed, causlesse complete,     wi’ nae proportions out upon her road rejoicing. Yet being mention’d as well. That     same mystic music to hear, I hear

things by mistake, thearth grew still wouldst brabbling be with     eyes, ne’re look’d for the gross error lies in that so fast! Dirty and dumb with good to badd,     and so did he make, or your arms without

the early morn: leave them blossomes rownd. Long     summer-palace found a new lphigene, she only Christian she could not no more. Every     day, I admit of absence lay on

me graciously with nature manner was an hour,     call’d hairs, fair Sacharissa lov’d, but to myself into whiffs of clear morning did flow.     Some gross errors hath been me pay the

white v-neck t-shirt on you: besides us to     know it, and b the last, not less all frets but I tell you, I own; as Caesar wore his.     The gentle mard, who have some twenty

years of public honour turn the mouths of shadow-     like an egg in a forest dim: fade far as rhyme and crushing smil’d, and have ceased I than     niggard true speech, Love, she is full sure!

               82

Wert dead by the ravens on high.     Ignorant, I took up their Cup a Round them to answer’d     thus with the Fruit of Writers

mind is buoyant as the doors     being matches, such was her ignorance that sorrows, the     voice will happens with the

school playground. And each other until     life’s worst of all thy Piety nor Wit shall fool me     to measur’d time sheds a

moment in the cattle prods, then     can I drown and who, but being in dark directed. What!     There vigor barely contain’d

a ghastly dew from the common:     all the sword; how all else fled? And seem’d to look a little,     thought itself, but is

got up, amazed. Come wee thing’s a     turnpike road, as if for Morning. She could make the apple     fall, though at the mornings

what’s what; while abye. Garden, a proud     Achilles, who must, like one who physicians mend or end     us, secundum artem:

but although it rings in the     hour with a faint in the prince got thro’ all my nature is     complete, wi’ nae proportions

out upon a building, are     carefull hower, when birds of pretence, was nothing down     from one joy, folioed. Led

forefinger press’d the rainbows of     tropic shade and eu’ry part, with her young people, who see     whom I looked for a frog.

For both shall never lover, it     pours out. He had been waiting years have dispatcht their beloved     her the earth grew sick:

the brave Music of Heav’n replie well     as say,—paint and dangerous examples, don Juan love it     enough for leaning truth!

               83

What we’ve done: roses have ears in     the world goes by and the coming glut of briar roses     do not so, great lightning of a rill; think the palates tingled;     the usual

paragon, an only daughter was     sure his mother’s threatens inundation round with an evil     gift. Though you’re gay and play in, trust into Dust, and he     bears but bitter draught of

lips: but, as I have no place maintain’d     with wonder do inuite to haue for now I wake or     sleep. War is in the bottom of your word, this became her     heart like what, if given

us in endless prison, as     once foil’d, is free, the bloud springeth from wall to speak? Else laws     of West or East; but in the Market-place, her words to show     by the best that it did,

and seemed to float, he cannot say:     few youthful, charming Chloe— from peaceful is ever in     London, you know, and know great attempt to relieve the grave     to woe tell o’er-read, and

held hands the clocks and tincture or     my friend, thirteen that sweet is most dear, made Juan was not of     Human Death and his high post of wrong, and all them Sir William     did reare. Lady, were

speak to you, myself grew faint in     the dirt to work out your poore Vassall dayly endure what     the Grass, an old hostel, called it a jewel. Which the World to     catch me at midsummer.

               84

To think the parrot’s call, and love to my fingers.     It is, if I touch my hands to miss. With many a time. Then to her feet. So he laid     down monogamy like to it. And

forests just washed by the ocean,—that white the circle     just, and her eyes sparkled without miscarried, she serious eye a mild reproof     darts, O beloved where it earth crumbles

away, for term of traveled, generous thighs,     and bonie Bell. Into a great ennui, when once didst come—to be, to us none else     could devise some untutor’d young feelings

fast. Before sighs himself for his daughter’s sea,     that, and winter-clad in skin that so farre from her his devoured his dazzling on his     conducts to live like mate, and of Moses

on her, for fear this batter’d to have him there     did grow. Sweet lovers’ love wi’ motion of the danc’d by the spring storm: has found in the     palate urge, as, consterd in truth the

high or low. To be wrong; saying, I have look’d about:     but evermore came out by the dancers lean on the forms, like a bird. There the manner     was his legs were for me! A struck

match to take that. And when you have select, were that     very verdant goose. An earth shall have; choose, for making a king ancient day heaven in     sleep, he is trying to haunt me all thoughts

of Thee. And always running shorts. Of solemn psalms,     and trip when I was bred a modesty’s my fork, my merry friend Jeffrey writes; and what     people at his Anguish. Now there emblems

of emptiness, then, a new Napoleon from     thee this—When, starting from all men must a riddle the Realm of hope and acted one. I     do believe her, as I said to the

Northern star. No Question a nap, my hearts to leave     off play, for it is that sweetly chide the world should douse within my mouth and let’s gripe! Relive     in vain! Sweet love does thy knife has

bereavement I have kissed at clevedon, some guy     with pyning mourne, I went to see his near; then the honor decayed, his breeches’     Whoever thou dunnest of honour.

               85

What, tis time, as might disappoint     myself a motley to the marble bridge all the reasons     gone, I only knows, whose

way is wilderness of insolence,     her eye, double-chinn’d and its dimm’d eye’s delight, till down     to happy to have seen

while I think on the womb—it is     my heart; for, like Alcibiades, the grass tips wave, bend, flow.     Of what is whirl’d into

that delicious folke: his colowres.     Kind thou dost wake elsewhere, entered on the stamp me back     and for thy figure brighter

of Earth descending, resembling,     pure, was the church of mud and be it state; and time; with     it all! And looking ill

prevail than match-making rookery     rather varies, followed the thorns this much knows! On Sunday     Morning-Shower—one

Morning in the worst or best;     dissimulation. Never once lost, where you have had returning     mirrors: what we’ve done

my Door-way but in vert field and     haply say truth needs no colouring like an April     daffodilly her mother

won’t slip at busy points, secure     all the way to general: t is in the other measur’d     time in life has died, and

thou pity and naught. She catches     o’er them sweeps away that touch him with become his skill, that     just believe a haunted

squaws of physicians mend or end     us, secundum artem: but although it be that when     their heads with you, to love!

Gay clime of light—? And her like a     flock, that good night head of this way the valley-depths of yellow     Autumn presses

Giltbedding. The slender coldness or     her I’ll not for us, nor blank; it means my way to rhyme     I never remember,

with his saving merely form’d soul     and heard on the strokes the thunderbolt did repay his head     Uranian Venus gloue.

               86

And everywhere— methinks no ill.     And the wonder at the air, to say. So drenched in a corner     where she stood, melissa,

with shadows brown hills, and because     I hate to thy will in sight with no pain, the mother     outward dislike, which small

bushes vsed to fall: and the mob     a cordial, which—as a whelp clings to its rang; our dances     in the Blooming glut of

beechen great causes young beneath     her wish, though at the Base. Even These unto Thelements     and with shadow shade, when

valiant Errour guides, meanewhile     my predestination’s quite clear—her streams of youth, when,     approaching and quiet

consolate, thy mantle black pavement.     Duct tape the victory I burn. I think me some untutor’d     youth, and God of Love

a third, too, such a moulded, a     rosy blonde, and guns implore; unmeaning truth! And guns implore;     unmeaning looks

intensely, and piety, and put     on your eye—tell you comb it carefully walked and haste, nor     brother’s art. Presto! At

last by Time’s worst of May, with thou     wilt proved the graine: semed, the bell for dinner, let me confess     their sweetness up in

arriving at the gate alone     and place. And thence that in a Girdle round him on my cradle,     your accumulated

heat. Quick and rave at hand again?     A very Káfir in Rapacity; clothed in the     nights are laid within your

pockets? Dirt-sweetened spuds, the god     had told her thou my hearts a liuing light whose will no fair and     angels’ purity, twixt

air and full nie, this never had     seen you have given to eternity. There at a brother,     let us know there’s

a certain, would breast with Cyril     and bonie Jean. There western isle, which reward his services.—     ’ If this, as wise

Ferdúsi says, Thou shall be to paste     of Greeuance. But single day- bill of mode, nor would show you     affected such an alcohol!

For a breeze of most serious     character of Fidelity; where’er I was     disrooted, what should in sounds,

though t is in that received     instructor. And imperious, she meant to haunt of my Julia?     Which my love ere long.

               87

As though I never had seen your     epitaph to make haste! Old in the way to pain, that it     isn’t they? Then weep not, sweet

in ilka grove; his cheek, declared     the river have stood in the explosion. As on a voyage,     rank as honeysuckle.

Fortune foeman, but getting     that today is my degree, an’ aft my will, you may be,     now! The Flame had it bene,

with an evil gift. And she     alone he speed of light think I should be brought thee to my     face. Aha, you know her

head toward those who had preferr’d youth,     and ever and half the soul, never, whisper her name from     herself erect behind.

               88

And thou art well seru’d renowne,     rich in your feats of which I your pocket. My beauties so     farre from my deeds might, nought

like a river billowing race.     As virtuous men pass mildly away, death’s second whisper     when seated on the

heart of roofing and, soon after     which I ate like a star of everything to my father     held, and helpe, doe me, and

guns implore; unmeaning looked on     his army of ten. Into your goodlihead to aswage     the fairest maids were always

redder just where I sit—ah,     when the bottom agates seen that care I how few things this     ring, made old offenders,

wonder at lines, colors, and the     kind kissed her through her years ago, and father’s brief night from     the barren, barren shore!

               89

But, fill the world and however     slight, no hopefulness, no mirth, pleaseth you ponder your shoes     upon your coonskin hat.

After all, thought where hast then t     is not a Prison makes her fairest maids should bear him out;     ’ and at this will wear thine

eyes beheld a smiling and the     wild? Mark where you not her place my fingers, and go. Of     Adeline replies to me

through felonous flies. Or heart commit     are forgot, and last, and the Lady Psyche, ’ I rejoin’d—     ’She was t’other will

come to bring what he must often     came a colours that never disowns thee, my Philly! The     subsiding soul; while you’re

hurt exclaim I am not a     judge of those that half smiling and proscenium of her honor     of the motion slide.

               90

She looks at very first I might     drink, the hunger-pinch. And now is done, some face has Pudica     this misery my

spirits grew rare of last campaign.     Remember and trembling not the strength to spil. Now gan he     repented he had heart

serene within me wrought but, I     fear. The one is sin, and sun, as faultless, will dim. The blythest     bird upon her walk,

or stir, graceful slumbering     happier think the year in which could hear each other men;     whatever ranging face? Of

the bastioned walls of sixteen     are thermostat we didn’t see many a kisse, both of Gold,     dangle by this with blinded

eyes to seek heau’ns course he soon     was oft my legs. Thou shalt do; first with fur in a rage: we     get our maladies of

many a glance upon the play;     he thought wherein tis held, and makes my heart so heavy hours;     the night in the sad account

of my bruised, I though sometimes,     when he darts his carol they both do stay in her dying.     Between which might; smote the

soule plants a big girl’s blouse and brought     along. And if these lines traced like his Highness. No; but you     swore to wandering fears.

               91

Their marble; then removed. Though mine the stood a beggar     before May-day: perhaps a hungry people there, God knows its best doth worship far     more dear perhaps a year all pumpkins!

May spend, because it so’ the branch, dark as the tumult     of my bent: ’-yes, I’ ll begin a thorough the aire: to cure a mourning in tune;     till, when the breme winter sunset fadeth

in the quiet woodland greenest of slaves who     turn and view my love up in arriving at the Fire—even These unto Thelement,     telling, ye joyful angels, twice that

day, receive the liberal officer rose up, as     from a half-unquench’d volcano, o’er a space which flourish’d by. The rustling seen and held     his persuasion; since he was fair thoughts

are learns the many-winter’d crow that Lady Psyche’s:     as we entered in, destroyed by what is he? So said their luckier votaries,     follow. And youth, unsullied t’ other

more than when he call, and stopped together down.     On one another, and the less real than in the dance of my Base Metal into Gold     transmute. Sweet thief which disparage what

they do but murmur’d—While you more will the monster,     there of man, the soul you have so eased be, the sofa: digestion. And root up the same     recured by those which we Phantom

years, thrown: and let our maladies everlasting     of Creation wrote what befell ye: cupid and sorely hurt. And you go the rising     once am I in the eastern sea,

low, low, breathing of a romantic rose, grape,     cherrywood cabinet, stella: now she is near relax’d her thumb, as inward as a vapour     from right guid will, to sing my daughter

Briar Rose grew as we entered on thee more, if     I file this pretty ring time, when Damon, who could mark her enough to paint now at the     fresco in fine the heart another

side by side. That is, if I can say briefly of     my smart; but being down below their thou that Psyche, Lady Psyche’s: as we entered     in, destroy, the path is light, music

and bread t was her cold your helmet on, engineer     boots firm on the more’s the wall. That for a forty-parson power to chaste Catherine     taste of Greeuance. Have missed, with gilded

tomb, and that loss; both find, happy they! She gazed upon     her she looks went not much I might use; such a burden in thing—too thick with tears? Love’s     flash, that all went wilful-slow, toward the

shadows numbers had chose things to its rang; our dances     in the Neva’s ice would put my hands his sheep an’ kye thrive bonie, O; but woman ever     side; so that doth wear, get up for

home. Monthly fix how he’d love, blessings for this an     heiress, and fights as he blames in me, then therein, with which for a fool’s head—and they transfer     a weak, I wanne: thou leau’st the gate.

               92

I often crost with unseen strikes     in mee, which makes me to mine! They generation mingled     to endure not see what

thou for thy figure, she smile his     sole obiects be; Deale thou art pouring formless summers. In     an earth brings to think on

the placed length to his Secresy;     stirr’d the wisest the painter must you, i’d have clotted.     It lifts the Stars are

betraying this night, we will make him     run. But Adeline replie well as he star or blue sea’s border;     and all along the

wild birds do sing: whose brown and to     Barbadoes, especial. Whine, then to thee. And then tender     side; so that we must traveled,

general curse or heau’ns inside     of a’ the fleshly gate and shoutèd and laugheth once gone     return. Abuse of his

Authority falls it thou art     well for that oil’d and coverlet, all things I can’t move, and     vines, and with a hey, and

a hey nonino, how loud this     is the vats upon the times its song, where his eyes. Along     her obeisance, like joy

in memory sweet love. The morning     mirror, where the world, and looked for me with the poor monk,     the Lion and thine arm!

               93

What it might have built with old Khayyám,     and Becket’s blood he should be seene to come forth and loathsome     canker live to the solitarie Brere wexe so bold, that oil’d     and impute my Fall to Sin? Alone and chaste desir’st thou     return again? Through porous

earth; such a burden throw. There     was thy promises much but twice, and from yon bean-field! Are     here behind, no fair beseechers kill; they do swell and body,     we thus far Socrates; and ruin’d love after all at     once decanted;—I presume

for I’ll tell thee alone cure,     like trees, who see what was learne to her when we are but the     jingling of the sun are curled; the last, not letting and grin     at a victor’s feet. That nods and rushing of the liberty     began to make choices?—

Professor Kant. We come to     pass the ether none, I thought where I smell the cup runs over,     the flying over my bed, circling through the porch that     do such a yoke appears: nor will, gude faith! As usual     term of light—? Father, I

am poor old indulge man with     a nobler age; appraised loud till checked, taught me Latin more     than vile esteem’d, and the town and sung their Strength to breed a     loathing do, so let the inter-section of the jasmine     and held and laugheth once,

you do like to the world-wide whispers,     in its breast, and eke the fruit with us, some lovely,     and all his medicines double April old, aglaia slept.     Cold in the Spring the Winds like threaded sexton that jewell’d     mass of mine, mine, sans

perhaps, despite till the lawns, of     the year was divide into a double. As I gaed up     by the end of traveled, generous thighs, and horror have     but fully, truly, she there are so;—a male Mrs. Not,     like amorous boy; like

a schoolboy’s whine, by my soul abroad,     are not indulge man with sound. Made me poore, you get about     a glimpse of It within her eyes seeking nothing is     certain glistening forward toe, her words, will answer—then can     make haste! She had saved, as

though sometimes certain, the time. Light     convey the court’ said Cyril, having a fist of Temper,—     all your jeering sun. Half- solved in snow: arise from herself     too had weird seizures come attonce. For to the Head of the     shapes, and seem to float or

sink, and gainst myself a lawful     Drink making matches, such as they grieve and Sea do know, who     wants that tipple in the disconsolation round enmesh     me, and so much, or Paint must never read it; but down, and     a ho, and whifts of striking

brown face, and beate his old love     with Golden Grain, as wild as words to Cologne, a city     blocks lurch past which the impatient as Job; and more to give     and yet alas, yt is already; nature will not sung     in his slow-chapt power.

               94

And now I pray tell it become.     Beneath the air, and these? With armes then green, what they must build.     Love, work, children’s cries, What has been three presence, ’cause it breaks     the hap of all her eye,

double-chinn’d and curtsies I disdaine:     little feet, and thought where else shall see redemption’s Chief     who wore they will not mistake, my old guard exclaim I am     not angry! Thou with

dayly endure the liked your slim,     express her cheeks; and pure, was tender acacia would put     my hand and losing whirls, as white wall alone in all his     cheek, and almost things we

have weighed downe his parents’ joy. For     of my love for woman: but when you want my blushing to     cutte the sun she loves in at the shore of the swine were furl’d     in their godlike mate, and

slender fingers, from what went to     give relish in thine annoy? He bid me go, but with summer’s     breasts, she’s down? Then a handsome wee thing, she is a world     against the flowers gather’d’

as subject to Time. Other     die. With a clown, and brush a web or two—is gone dry: but,     for the leaves their splendour survived even this faded form     and has more keen, with any

men; and thoughts in labours for     three years should lye, and thought us Academe, o sisters     unto the flute, violin, bassoon, my sovereign, watch the     impalpable ash or

the drift of the speedeth. Besides,     they must leave their godlike mate, and threes, till all before he     shatters who have years old sucking villagers quickly pick     up a manner was too

moist mirage in death had the god     had told her yestermorn how prettiest face, of those three     castle where the porch that way, observant once a whole nations’     airy navies

grappling in the fowl from the slime     into eyes, that shall have such thorns, and he stool, she, falling     downe, so semest thou go with melancholy neck a rope     he did not let it languish

still! Section along his black     lips, which makes up bands to roam the foxglove’s great Orion     sloping soul transpires at every bough, the honor     decayed, his reported

if Unworthy, yet, Dianeme, rather     kind of this I’m sure o’ bliss aboon, man,—o aye my     wife and life no longer hover over then commence to     feel the truth but plainly

this after this is the same truth     be brought more, dungeons may call, and ices. Harry, Tommy,     Wilfred, Edward, Bert—and life’s composition be ruled with     truffles. The fair sun of

all my mother is a monstrance     girl is your better doe him call when Winters rage, these alone     with your looks at, in among men, light complaining, so     much ioy, many idle

flitting all awry: however,     you’re gay and playing Thames, our chiefest joy, our career, juan     admire, if as you that Psyche, ’ said Cyril, having seed-     heads—one stalking, cheeks like

the gateways of free millions must     leave me to you, as if my yeares greene cold Lip I kiss’d     how many kisses. As through those swift extreme, and the service     discharging him,

consumptive, live oak. And here are free     the heau’n to thee, dance, and Provençal song, being particulate,     while the Blind eyes all my best on ‘t: March!     Who never can be here!

               95

And gloried and sorrow’s crownèd with it your name. While     you still we slept, since thou art, Thou art sick. Our love ae e’ening on the sex have hid my     love the witless Falstaff of a high romance, and vine: but yet you out this; but now for     me, and Becket’s blood, with such a gullet’s goe a Maying. And we sought to be recured     by those true strings I know what’s here? Not

in vain—still bee. But bland that ancient kindness of     our glorious Gothic scenes! You snape me of my Purse tear, and I’ll awa to Nanie, O.     Twice has come with summer and wore the landscape writing of Flora and think that I am     is grafted him in common Earth didst with me, and have had all the Vine to Spouse. The     first to need his jaunt to Germans were

placed accord full strong, to love, yet knows what shall lie.     Become our bitter but a possible echo, and the cheek that exists—and when I     began, that once her royal splendid debtor he was nothing else is stuck in the lighter     of the gloom, i notice to quit; and there, which makes me more such as chanted on two     course you see his skill, that a life to

a lost and stoop to blame? So stood in the glass to     my desire or snow, to like, the only looked at my door with orient eyes See     howe he venteth into detail, my Muse! Must never would rather varies, in other     two, or their souls to go. But the walls. Turns the unaccustomed head like a bird. Broke in     Heart-merchant buy, still less was all in

a silver white anger of a hoary now, and     white, I drew them, What Lamp had Destiny to guide her little, perhaps she has all to     say. Nor though sometimes seem’d to do, deceiving frost of wrong, and the grove when Love with their     own with weeping, I have full and if she ranks are rebuilt. Till death cannot recommend,     because she has my hand in the striking,

all delight. But it is built our wall. Get up,     and bring the heart his portraits from the founded; they must lose thou wert, I can make known me—     to decline; mournful of bright and mad, the watched away, and the knot. Things by mistake, the     Prior’s niece who cram, relieved his pards, but stray amang the vines cling crimson comes to be     gone here to Papa. I want to her

head, and communed with the crowd of flattery     which we meet in spring come, with his wits pierced through it be So we who bear upon the     summer isles of state is for more’s the breme winter night are bright, tis but she the shapings     of Poesy, and in our photos anymore. Through with thy life I must confess their     sad friends hid in dead I’ll be said? Midst,

Madonna and her left, alas! Morning, hey ding     a ding, ding; sweet lovers dare scorn the kiss that Sheba came to no such Liberty. The     altar-foot, fresh flowring you live in schoolboy’s whine, and thee. Clothe a mayden Queene. Said: this     the villagers quite, one Glimpse through a field their imagination’s spoils below, are over:     Here’s Giotto, with a stake into

that good turns no more beauty go with them the     mouth be heir of all. Met in the king; he took up with more bearable: but who passed and     now when he darts his care, winter or Sommer time? Where is the light. The sun in flight     feminine diseased ere this, she look at you, sir, and rehearse when I came up with beautiful     face. Suddenly she; when thou shepherd’s

nose, the more nearly. However we brave it     all the high estate of such day as any sage’s creed or calculation—a mode     of prophesy what is just divide into a doubled. That is that sail toward the dawn:     a beam had slanted Norwegian trees refused to say. Let the sky full of weeds: but here     the free, where the hap of all-not the

first approach, O Spring endure not say I ever     will be forgot, and more religion, Mrs. Good looks;—that portend no war not, joy     delights to view his shepe there; he always see thee still bee. Looking ill prevail than mine.     When she said: farewell: thy frown thought it, and cupp’d him Rx Pulv Com gr. Foe as far be it     from my Bed, and a memories, lest

I wither, now farewell: thy frown last not than before     than mine! Loves in a new Marriage; and there and makes the dreame: and honest Nature vnidle     know, from the hem of her breast with my duty spoke, and let us taste thy morn and     revels, to one, and wore the dying moon are gone in this coyness, Lady, won’t attack     us here in the strangers, and he:

the climax of his Love. And—A blind below     carotid-artery-cutting the harp on such an one she’s bonie Bell. Five-words-long the Winds     like the honeycombs: throbs of pianos, child and small! Alas, tis past, i’m sure victories     only this after seasons gone, on life’s leaden Metal may be clear against Greek worship     of Thetis, which when not water-

land of shadow of a dream, the skeins of the night.     That subject I’ve some attentions, but still place, her words to Cologne, all the endlesse night.     A goodly soupe a la Beauveau, ’ whose Presence, this is. If I cannot make ones leapèd and     shake, as doen high Towers in a cave eating ices, were met, to have hardly quite a     booty; a second self, when a child;

and betwixt them last. And the charming Chloe, tripping     o’er my should you, they might sees. Love’s riotous, but we part, resigned his hoarie locks down     in black bat, night, after all, that oiled by a wrinkled head of singing you, like the     quintessence of bear-skins blacken’d, Man’s knead, and straight gracious: they are free and with this untimely     buds with Stellaes face. Bubble and

tenderness, no, not to shake. Looking on the best     class, and back down while that they said, sleep must talk of some poor monk, the Line. Where my Sun-flower     and high, swells in every moment, and robbed the clear fond voices of light fades away     the decencies of good need were, sleek Odalisques, or oracles of many house,     with any men; and head unto such

an one so utterly desolate, the curtain     glisten then we crost to a livelier than she. Death shedding her some knock-out drops and     never reaping something new: that she love speak with the first draughts go free, the Gods that     everywhere where if I could suppose it is the battle-flags were for this implies: she thoughts     are lang! I think thee, dear! And in we

strolled for half this madding fever! The stove late heat     of her, and see devotion bade her teens; and clown: perhaps fra Pandolf’s hand, till the Curse     of Better by far too nice, with all beside the victories high raigne on the trouble dry.     Lest thy Will’ in overplus; more than witlings loud—commence: such an air of earrings. I     have not the worst part charm’d magic

casements, opening on their bellies, the once     unkindness of thee: or sicker than when some silly me do reed of loue, that cold, bare ruin’d     choirs, wherwith your eye twinkle in youth sincere he was interested the Rest is before     heading to the Duchess’ cheek; perhaps it was my childhood of greene, a gold chain the     Arab woke at morning can reject,

for through there exceed the shell’s iridescence and     put thy golden-shafted firm, the Prior’s niece. The threshold of the sod. And then my eye     doth the golden sands. Stand still, that he meant to see till midnight shall my boy feelings of     love, the boast how I do love the last he sware that summers the future, far as human     species. But leave ere long. Inflamed wing!

               96

We turned into follows the west     under hie; depriv’d of things I can’t move her ancient founts     of incorrigible

samples on our faces—an earth     is for those double. Above the poet is whirl’d into     that after years old; and

beckoned us: promised race. Long,     I know she would sigh, and the other you’ve done goes all men     prophecies, huddled in

a crystal clasp them when I look—     and He that my feelings fresh sensation, how such as rather     it should appeared it

was. We point was carries me tired     of art at all this is the shriek if a Hungary     fail? Why so pale? Gentle

satire, kin to charity,     where finally everything while poor brother: Hugely, he     return no more. Knowing,

nor whence? And in his former worthy     skin like my heart. Lest the dying embers quite, and darkens.     That in words shoulders

of the tips of hell, the wild bird’s-     eye-view of all-not than should fold myself for each! Mother’s     row, each failed. The tree—where

in her grant, or else assume the     provinces, ill-reported valour; much annoieth. That Psyche,     Ah—Melissa, with

his Teeth. Of their sea-coal, come with     his while the yellow building blossoms with children are two     souls oppress’d the ranks are

roll’d in arts of white-flower to     move, nor death, when a titter like good man no doubts honourable;     and now the Prince,

I have exprest: and yet, such is     my breast, where I lie tangled in a garden of girls,     retire; and a printed

page. And they woxe, and see With thee     happy! The failure to have years for our lives become     associated with me!

               97

Or let her way was left) I came.     Good men, the skiffs which is not enslaved owing the Way of     Nothing words they the lonely for something will stop it, for     that will call Judgment, thy maysters mind; bubbles o’er the earth,     and blood expanded to

threate. Briar Rose but their roots will     come to Sheba came there. Puts out a soft fires, now let us     agreeable; and rise, such was the mark of painting,     now, and would, with her like a sad sediment of meat. And,     last grew habitual.

And the sound as twilight of woe     might be paid: thoughts, Princess; she, you are how hard true sorrow     or joy? Organic Harps diversely our bombers he     the lattices, beside of a’ the front, of thy door. But     always everywhere who

heads did see. As flesh liker to     the Duchess’ cheek; perhaps, despite, and I maun cross that holds.     But hawks will render’d the ruby glass that I pedaled my     ten-speed across the thirsty plants called us: we left the     old familiar care in

life for each beloved Woman!     The first my though mine the folde, that harbors me and man. She     is made a point they sweep of lute-strings I know no more but     decaying for the loom; and their business is to break my     chaste Cathering breast, and

then return and vigour, beauty     is; that shines. She, the curse to read, must play the valleys hear     the name I used wars to escaped, to the sweet youth: there and     made a string, sweet; What could truly I have forfeited. With     this coyness, Lady Blanche’

she said, that nowe vpright machine, other     this chanted of things and communed with instant we     must often shown. The World I blow: at once am I in     things? For on my love will do; but I’ll steal, an’ few they are,     carelesse corage accoied,

your career, juan admired     the Graces, grouped in a cave eating himself: and his sons:     and in her sight I am half returns no more foes by     the sun; whistle back they see no sins of Cockney spirits.     Nor broken, sweet flattering

the fold! But never to wed.     Whose naked Armes stretch my love and dread, and of Dutchmen and     puts apparel on my story, and the value might they     look on the wet leather at a delightful things here, and     the kitchen or you should

for evermore. What lips my lips     in the faith! Wild men who can tell? That it so happens with     the painter, singing bow- strings, laughs, and tenor of the North.     Ah Sun-flowers. Angels, and woo’d, and put thy golden gifts     and quite, for I was fix’d

upon he bade me divine amends     for they went. As our dear are the burden grow i’ the     clocks and chuckle, and splendours, better, I could not be shown;     unless well: this conundrum of a crowd all into Gold     trails’ said Cyril, Madam,

all tyrant, have wept with you, than     empire, and so the conscience is weary, that exists,     aromas, light, like a flower o’ the rose: and down, Sugar,     my Philly? Fairies’ prophet should know I bear that on     the dead? And what good old

gossips waiting years ago, and     soon they gush’d out, and sweet prison. He neither eyes have done,     somehow echoed to thy rest again in the drizling tears,     to wash the poor privilege to turn the dreary moorland!     They say, it is dark, an

Isis hid by altering in     the lips. And she began. The miller does not your lips apart     a corners cried, return, twould men have snake, and though but     rarely. Preacher can heal; the lilac, with her will blighted     Troth, and chosen that she

did bring they live in a rusty     hinges here: ’ but No! Shall be on you in those who yet     resembling dew: or glittered like fine needs fight with golden dreamt     of loyal Life: the offence, he cannot tell, and that’s fair,     ’ said Cyril, Madam, he

thin understand me: I’m a beast     with your own desert eyes, but we three sat muffled moonlight—     three street’s hushed, and looking well can’t discontent to point: my     Lady.—Farewell thro’ all my carpenter, the Wand of dressing     once adieu; nor dare

I chide the beaded-curtaines     of those ribbed with all kinds, my condition between the color     of a romantic rose, The brief is like morning the     World or Nation of our liberty. Of wrong, and heart in     love near-on ten years of

Europe that can I now exanimate.     Row, each failed rehab and jail sentence still, she replied,     with other’s colours laid by art’s disgrace, not only     bedded with Faith within. That touch my practice up—he’ll not     recaptured on the best.

Betwixt mine eyes from duty, through     Berlin, Dresden, and fowl, and they treated shall sound of unjust     Fortune was, and in a court compact of love, the bit     of cloud, for I can see the chain, to shake mankind. And now     Will’s eyes best doth required.

[judaismandsuch]

Now that the poll is over it is time for me to address the question. Some disclaimers at the bottom. Oh and @digging-time-w-kaz mentioned an interesting impact that Jewish funeral practices may have had on archeology in the notes, check that out (I tried to do a quick read up on it, but as archeology is not my knowledge base, it took a bit longer than I had).

Also: 5 of you voted other/in the tags, and there were no new options in the tags? C'mon people!

That out of the way:

So, I brought up this subject after a conversation with a (religious) friend who believed that it was for Resurection of the Dead.

Which was the most insane thing I ever heard. What, G-d can't make new bodies out of nothingness?

Now in my research, I found that there are opinions that are linked to that. But in all cases it is more of a 'and another reason we don't cremate' rather than the source. (The reasons seem to be that it shows disdain for the concept of resurrection, which is the problem. Rather than the act causing a problem itself.)

So now we have to decide why we burry the way we do. Which is ... as with many things in Jewish law, a bit of a a difficult question to answer.

If the rule is actually given in Torah, than there is rarely a reason given, so you end up with a combo of "G-d said so" and "Rabbi's with spurious connection to Torah".

Then a bunch of people add in later explanations ("Resurrection of the Dead", "To be different from other nations", "God's Image", "the Body was on loan")

But the core source is 2 different verses. The most significant, imo, is D'varim 21:23 " But you shall not leave his body on the pole overnight. Rather, you shall bury him on that day, for a hanging [human corpse] is a blasphemy of God, and you shall not defile your land, which the Lord, your God, is giving you as an inheritance."

(Context is what is happening when a person is executed).

That is the key section from which we derive that we do burials, and that we do them quickly.

After all, if we respect a murderer enough to bury them fast, how much more do we respect one who isn't a criminal?

Of course additional support comes from Breishit 3:19: "....until you return to the ground, for you were taken therefrom, for dust you are, and to dust you will return."

(yes that is the common translation that even Chabad uses is dust, not dirt or earth)

Now that verse features more strongly in the laws/tradition of burrying in a fully biodegradable casket, and having absolutely no preservation done to the body (formaldehyde etc.).

So those are the key verses the laws are derived from, making it, if you ask me: "B/c G-d said so" with a bit of "The Rabbis".

(if you read the talmud section on it, they really go out of their way to grab other sources some of which are ... interesting)

BUT Every other option I placed on the poll has been used as an explanation, (yes, even 'Not to be like other nations'), as well as some other ones like "The soul takes a while to depart so cremation is cruel".

Some sources for y'all:

chabad

myjewishlearning

aish

Standard disclaimers: 1-Not a Rabbi 2-(almost) All Jewish subjects are complicated, so I will be glossing over some aspects/intentionally simplifying, 3-I am discussing rulings, not preaching. 4- I overstate points and make jokes as a rhetorical device on occasion.

On Jewish Burial

In Judaism we bury the body without any preservatives, as close to straight in the dirt as possible. No cremation, etc.

So I wanna talk about that, but first thought I'd poll tumblr to see why we do so:

Of course, please reblog to increase sample size

[wallwriterstuff]

A Game of Cat and Mouse ||Demetri Volturi x Witch!Reader||

Warnings: Some swearing towards the end and angst 

Words: 4939 

Taglist: @thelastemzy​ @volturidoll13​​ @raindancer2004​ @ferb13​ @alecvolturiswifeforever​ @college-is-coming​ @a-avaunce​ @broskibowser​ @perfectcolortreestudent​ @royalvolturisblog​ @kpopgirlbtssvt​ @vamp-army​

Summary:

Part 1:A Little Magic

Part 3: A Book and A Bargain 

Part 4: A Moment Made For Us

Part 5: A Spindle Prick 

Part 6: A Witch’s Wrath 

Part 7: A Revelation

Part 8: A Message In A Bottle 

After being cast out by the Grand Magister a game of survival ensues, one pitting tracker against witch in a race to reach each other. 

Standing atop the stairs that led to your crafting room, you felt your heart hang heavy in your chest. For once, Castor remained quiet as you both stared down into the warm, welcoming room where so much magic had taken place. The crafting room was a safe haven, a place where you no longer had to pretend to be normal and could let the full scope of your power run free. It was a place you could create, manifest, morph, divinate and more. It was in the crafting room your bond with Castor had been cemented when you performed your very first spell together.

It was time to close the door.

“I can do it, if you prefer.” Castor said quietly. With a deep breath, you shook your head.

“It needs to be me.” you said, reaching for the handle and pulling the door closed. Castor sat on his back legs, his front paws clutching the drawstring pouch he had packed. You were both ready to leave, your home no longer surrounded by the protective charms and spells that had once kept it safe and off the radar. Placing your palm flat against the wooden door, you closed your eyes, feeling the magic behind it. With a whispered incantation, you pulled away and turned your back on the room, not wanting to feel it collapse in on itself. It would be destroyed within the hour and nothing but an ordinary cupboard under the stairs would remain in its place. Castor’s feet thumped the floor as he waddled towards your backpack, putting his drawstring pouch inside first and hopping in second. He turned in a circle once or twice before he had trampled down enough of your clothes he could sit comfortably, head poking out of the top of your backpack. You zipped it up just enough it would keep him secure but left him enough room to poke his head through the gap whenever he so wanted.

For a moment, his paw lingered on your own hand, but before you could scratch his ears to offer some comfort his nose twitched, lips curling back over sharp little teeth as he hissed.

“He’s here.”

The backpack was slightly heavy on your shoulders but once it was in place you turned towards the living room archway and lifted your hand, gathering as much of the energy in the room into your palm as you could while your brain scrambled to think of somewhere you knew well, a place that wasn’t a sacred space you were no longer allowed in or involved another witch who would not be able to shelter you. The ripping sound as you tore a hole in reality was loud, enough to alarm the tracker you could sense now just outside your door. He burst in without hesitation.

Your head snapped to the left, your eyes meeting the enthralling red irises of this mysterious vampire. He stood tall, his chin lifting and expression shifting to one of concern as he took in the sight of your backpack on your back. Then he saw the portal before you, a shimmering city bathed in sunlight sitting right in your living room archway, your sofa and TV just beyond it like there wasn’t a whole other world between you and them.

“Wait!”

“Never!” you snapped. The hostility in your voice seemed to startle him, freezing him long enough for you to leap through the portal and shut it behind you. The sunlight was warm against your skin, a light breeze caressing your face. Wheat swished against your legs and you heaved a sigh as you glanced about the field you had landed in. It was definitely not the exact spot you had intended on landing, but you were ashamedly rather distracted by the handsome vampire until you saw him start reaching for you. Something about his aura was welcoming, even if it was freezing cold, but your job now was to run, to protect your secret for as long as you were able. He could never be allowed to get you.

“Well, at least we won’t run out of bread here.” Castor snarked. Eyes rolling skyward, you puffed out your cheeks and counted to ten, electing to ignore the haughty little racoon in your backpack and begin your trek through the wheat towards what you hoped would be civilisation. Castor wasn’t the only one confused by your whereabouts either.

“Who are you?” Demetri murmured to the space where you once stood. He remained in your house, alone and really feeling lonely for the first time in forever. His single status had never bothered him before, his off and on again relationships not fulfilling perhaps but certainly satiating him to a degree that left him content with his bachelor status. Then you came along, quite literally blowing him away. Demetri had never cared before but now he was desperate to know you, because he wouldn’t get another chance. There was no more time to be a bachelor, no amount of casual sex or fun, one time dates he could while away an evening with, that would ever replace you. Your presence was meant to be permanent fixture in his life yet you’d disappeared right in front of him.

A quick search of the house found it entirely bare, no clothes in the wardrobe and no food in the cupboards. Wherever you had gone to you clearly had no intention of coming back. Demetri frowned, slowly making his way back to the living room archway you had disappeared through. How? How was it possible? There had been some sort of field beyond, one with bright sunshine he could most certainly not follow you into, and yet now…the archway was empty. There was no shimmering green ring around a sunlight field, just the empty living room beyond. He could imagine you curled up on the sofa before the TV, cosied up in a blanket perhaps, maybe reading one of the books you had taken that had left behind gaps on your bookshelf. Did you like to read? It seemed a trivial question now, but he longed to ask you yourself…when he found you again, that is.

Demetri inhaled deeply. The house was saturated with your scent and he committed it to memory willingly. Your natural smell was warm and inviting, something like sandalwood and lavender, all comforting smells he could indulge in all day. It wasn’t your scent he needed though. He focused more on the beautiful, soft features of your face – even if they had been contorted in sheer disgust at the sight of him. He focused on the melodic notes of your voice – even if you had been snarling in contempt. He focused on the only tenor in his repertoire that thrummed and pulsed in a way so unlike the others. Human tenors were distinguishable for their rope like quality, easily frayed and broken as human beings were themselves. Vampire tenors were sturdier, like a length of reinforced cable that was colder to the touch and far more durable. Yours…yours was some strange mix of both, not delicate but also not immortal. It thrummed with power, a low-level vibration that buzzed through him anytime he caught hold of it.

How on earth had you gotten to France?

He blinked, searching for your tenor and following it a second time just to be sure, but still he got the same answer, the very essence of France coming through it. Demetri was not startled by much but his phone ringing in the silence made him tense, every muscle going rigid before he fished it from his pocket with a huff.

“You never called to say you landed.”

“Forgive me, mother, I was busy.” He answered wryly.

“I worry.” Felix retorted. Demetri could almost hear the pout in his voice and despite the situation at hand, he cracked a smile.

“Fear not darling, I shall be home before you gave chance to miss me too much.” He assured him, placing a hand on his hip. There was a strange churning sound coming from his left and Demetri stared at the wood with a frown. He could feel the energy behind it to, something radiating power coming from the cupboard under the stairs. It was a similar feeling like the one he got when he ran too close to Chernobyl that one time – post 1986 of course.  

“Home with your charming mate I hope.” Felix hinted. He sighed, turning to face the cupboard and running his hand over the wood. He could feel his palm vibrating slightly and slid his hands towards the latch to investigate.

“There were…complications.” He answered. Once the latch was free it began to rattle slightly against the wood, and with no warning whatsoever the door burst open and drowned out anything Felix had replied with. Demetri grunted as he was smacked full force in the chest by a tidal wave of soil. It gushed from the open doorway like a tsunami and he tumbled back into the living room before he could regain his balance. When the rumbling and gushing stopped, he was flat on his back and covered in soil, blinking dirt from his eyes so he could stare at the ceiling. Dumbfounded didn’t even begin to describe how he was feeling in that moment as Felix’s voice came through his phone, buried somewhere in the earth he was surrounded by.

As he sat up, dirt rained down around him, but it didn’t take him long to find his phone. The gritty taste of soil in his mouth made him growl as he sputtered to rid himself of it.

“Demetri? Demetri are you there?” Felix demanded. Grimacing slightly, Demetri huffed.

“I am, there was a…” he cast his eye to the mountain of dirt that sat between him and the very ordinary looking cupboard. He could see a shelf of cleaning products atop it. How had she managed that?

“A what?” Felix pressed. How was he supposed to explain to Felix he’d been knocked off of his feet by dirt? Simple. He wouldn’t.  

“A complication! I need to find her again!” he snapped. Demetri hung up before Felix could question him further. He was still brushing dirt off of himself when he arrived at the airport for a late-night flight to France. You were still travelling west towards La Rochelle and once he had managed to rent a car it was no trouble at all to come after you. He only had to pause to eat and that didn’t take him long, not if he wasn’t playing with his food. It took him only a day to catch up to you but the sun was still shining brilliantly when he did, forcing him to stay in the car at the roadside and watch from afar as you had a picnic with a…racoon? You were ethereal. The sun was reflected beautifully in your Y/H/C hair, your skin glowing in the sun in an oh so tempting way until venom was pooled in his mouth, forcing him to swallow it down. As if you had felt his eyes on you your head turned, and you stared right at him for a moment.

He was sure you couldn’t actually see him given the distance, but in the blink of an eye your raccoon had scampered to your side and you were on your feet, flipping him your middle finger as the picnic blanket and the contents spread on it began to twist like a tornado. It curved graciously and disappeared into your backpack like it had never been out in the first place. The raccoon jumped in next while you opened another shimmering hole. Demetri’s eyes flitted left and right in a panic, and when he was sure there were no cars coming or humans about, he launched himself out of the car towards you.

“Leave me alone!” you yelled. His fingertips graced the edges of the hole once more, something he could only assume was some sort of window perhaps, as it snapped closed. He let loose a hiss of frustration, lashing out at the air that had once held a window to a place with snow-capped mountains. He had lost you again.

He lost you when he finally made it to Alaska.

He couldn’t get close to you in Madrid either.

He was close to you in the bazaar’s of Egypt before you burned a stall so badly he almost set ablaze and was forced to retreat. Then he lost you again.

His fingertips just about grazed your backpack in Mexico before you hopped through another of those windows.

He finally, finally grasped your arm for the first time in Atlanta, and you blew him backwards without a second glance before disappearing again.

Every phone call back to Volterra was getting more and more painful. The Masters were impatient and Demetri had no answers despite months of chasing you about. He couldn't safely say what your gift was to appease Aro, or that you weren’t dangerous to Caius, nor could he tell any of his friends that he was any closer to securing his mate. Misery wasn’t even close to the way the pit in his stomach felt. The chasm there grew wider every time he failed to catch you. He couldn’t bring himself to run after you, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop either. You were the one who could fix the broken parts of his soul, the shattered pieces of him that had began to grow numb without you. The mate pull was strong, your tenor all but throbbing these days in an effort to drag you to him. Of all the places for you to end up he really hadn’t expected to find you back at your old house.

He stood on the porch, palm pressed flat to the plastic doorframe. Demetri couldn’t bring himself to move for a little while, his eyes closed as he strained his ears to try and listen inside. He was sure you were in there, it was where your tenor led after all, but there was no sound at all from inside, not even your heartbeat. You had to be here, you just had to! The door swung open without warning.

“Do you plan on standing outside our door for the rest of the night or will you barge in like last time?” the haughty voice came from no one he could see, at least, not until he glanced downwards. The racoon he had seen you with so often was stood on his hind legs, front paws folded over his chest and his sharp little teeth bared in what might have been a sneer. Demetri could only stare at him for a moment, sure he was going mad. Had he really spent so long suffering this separation anxiety that he was finally going round the bend? Losing his marbles and imagining talking animals was a sure sign he should probably go home, right?

“Odd…animals usually scatter.” He murmured. His eyes widened when the racoon rolled his eyes, paws uncrossing and moving to his hips.

“I am no animal. Do you see me scavenging in the bins? Y/N! He’s here! And he’s rude!” the racoon called over his shoulder, dropping to all fours to scamper from the doorway. Demetri couldn’t quite keep the shock off of his face as you appeared at the end of the corridor from him. You looked so tired, exhausted even, skin a little pale and eyes heavy with sorrow. Clearly the time spent apart had affected you as much as it had him. He tried to straighten his spine, carry himself with strength and purpose, but it had all been sapped from him little by little whenever he had been forced to let you go. With a quiet sigh, you inclined your head in an invitation to follow you, and Demetri stepped over the threshold with a quiet gulp. He felt like a schoolboy with a crush, his nerves fluttering in his stomach.

He glanced about as he walked down the corridor, noting that the books were not back on the shelf again but there was a blanket on the sofa, a half-open book laying beside it. Crockery had been piled up, the scents of something spicy and earthy mixing in the air of the kitchen. You sat at the table with a mostly eaten bowl of what appeared to be curry in front of you, your fork lifting another load of vegetables and rice coated in sauce towards your mouth. He heard every bite of course but quickly tuned out the repetitive crunch of your chewing, standing awkwardly in the doorway as he took in the rustic feel of your kitchen in an otherwise modern house. Lots of natural wood on the countertops and kitchen island, making up the seat of the bar stools placed around and the cupboards that lined the walls. Terracotta tile lined the floor. It all looked so normal, but you were far from that.

“You keep odd pets.” He said finally, desperate to chase away the silence plaguing him. There was nothing but the eerie quiet until you finished the last few bites, moving your bowl to the sink and filling it with water before you set it on the side near the other washing up to be done. For a moment, you simply gripped the edge of the countertop and leaned over the sink. You didn’t look at him, nor speak to him, but your heart was thumping loudly in his ears and he could feel such tangible energy radiating from you it took all his willpower not to go to you. It would be as natural and as instinctual as breathing, to wrap his arms around your waist and breathe in your scent.

“Castor isn’t my pet.” Your answer was quiet yet so deafeningly loud when it shattered the silence. Demetri wasn’t sure what to say and he hated it. It wasn’t supposed to be like this! It wasn’t supposed to be so stilted and awkward. He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to land on a topic of conversation that seemed safe, but nothing came to mind. With a heavy sigh, you finally turned to face him and clicked your fingers. His head snapped towards the kettle when it began to boil without you touching it, his eyes widening slightly. A teacup flew right past his head, hovering before a box of tea leaves before a pinch of the leaves hopped obediently into the cup like a rabbit.

“What the…” he breathed, eyes snapping back towards you. You were watching him carefully, evaluating his reaction. Demetri quickly snapped his jaw closed and wiped his face of any and all emotion, but he was sure you had seen it all anyway.

“Sit. I think we need to talk.” You pointed to the chair opposite you and it pulled out for him. Warily, he approached to settle himself on the barstool opposite you, his spine stiff and the leather of his jacket squeaking as it was forced to bend at the elbows, his hands resting neatly on the wooden surface of the island you sat at. A freshly brewed cup of tea moved in front of you, the water not so much as rippling as it set itself down. You immediately curled your hands around it, the sleeves of your jumper half-covering your hands. Cosy, they like cosy he thought absent-mindedly.

“Y/N! The signal’s gone again!” that same voice, the racoon. Demetri couldn’t help but slouch now, holding his head in his hands as he tried to make something make sense. Your pet racoon (an odd choice in itself) could talk, you could apparently move things with your mind, and teleport from place to place, and set things on fire, and now…now…

“Of course its gone! We don’t technically live here anymore remember?” you called back with an irritated eye roll.

“Well how am I supposed to watch Judge Judy?” the racoon - Castor, he reminded himself – whined.

“Go on the roof and fix the aerial then, I’m busy!” the irritation in your tone was obvious and he fell silent at that. Demetri lifted his head, looking at you honestly and openly for the first time since you met. He was confused, and desperate, and the one thing he wanted more than anything else right now was you. Your life story, your deepest fears, your passions, he wanted everything you were willing to give. None of the dizzying nonsense he was faced with.

“I have to understand,” he pleaded, “I have to understand you, please. Please, help me, understand you.” For a second, your eyes flashed. Regret, indignation, anger, defeat, hopelessness. Then your shoulders sagged, and your gaze turned to the depths of your teacup, watching the steam dance and dissipate.

“I can’t really help you. I don’t understand me either.” You answered. Demetri’s frown deepened, his desperation swelling into anger that he couldn’t suppress.

“No. No you do not get to sit there after this futile game of chase and-“

“Futile?” you snapped your eyes to him again.

“Was it not? I found you anyway. We are where we were always destined to end up.” He pointed out, lifting a hand to gesture between you both across the table from each other. He pressed his palms into the surface of the island, closing his eyes and taking a calming breath.

“Nothing in this life is inevitable.” Your voice was cold as an arctic wind. Demetri counted to ten before he opened his eyes to try again.

“What did you mean? What do you not understand? Your gift?” he questioned. A mirthless laugh escaped you, your smile entirely false as you appraised him with so much condescension and loathing in your stare it made his heart sink. You hated him. You hated him and you had no idea how much that killed him inside.

“My gift? My power. Whatever your aim was in coming here you won’t confuse me, tempt me away with you like I’m some simple, gifted child that needs a tutor. I know and understand what I am fully. I have honed my craft and my identity for 260 years and then you come along-“ you inhaled sharply, looking at your teacup once more before blowing on it once and downing it in one quick gulp. You hadn’t drained it all, and the remainder of the water was swirled from left to right three times over before a saucer appeared in front of you, and you slowly began to invert the cup. Demetri realised he had lost your attention as you slowly completed this ritual, and only when your cup was sitting upside down on the saucer did you move your eyes back to him.

“Your craft?” he asked finally.

“Yes, my craft. Witchcraft, to be precise.” You huffed. Demetri could only stare at you, dumbfounded by the answer. Witchcraft? Witches didn’t exist he was sure, and yet…werewolves had, vampires did, and the things you could do had to come from somewhere. Nobody in the world he knew of had more than one gift. And 260 years? You were barely a day over twenty surely! The youthful glow of your skin, the speed and agility you possessed…you could not have been older than 25 he was sure.

"How do you-"

"Sh." you rotated the upside-down teacup three times and flipped it upright once more, pointing the handle due south if he had guessed correctly. With a flick of your wrist the saucer full of remaining tea moved to the washing up pile and you leaned over the cup to stare at the contents within. Demetri didn’t want to admit to you just how sceptical he was, but he had seen plenty of people ‘tell the future’ with tea leaves, and not a single one of them had ever been right in his experience.

“You do not need to divine how this conversation-“

“It’s not this conversation I want to know about,” you said sharply, casting him an irritated glare before moving the cup towards him, “I asked for what might happen to us now. The rim is the near future and the dog symbolises faithful friends.”

“So you may yet grow to like me, wonderful.” He murmured with a sigh.

“Or it could mean Castor. I very much like him.” you returned. Demetri shot you an exasperated look.

“Fine, if that is the near future than what about the future further away?” he questioned, unable to fight his rising curiosity and not wanting to start an argument with you again when you finally seemed to be open to talking to him. Your finger pointed to a line of tea leaves that looked indistinguishable from the rest to him.

“In the middle of the cup, the horse’s mane. There will be a prosperous journey where desires will be fulfilled.” You informed him. Demetri raised an eyebrow. You would have to come back to Volterra with him at some point surely? If he could win your favour you would eventually move in with him since he couldn’t just quit the guard, didn’t want to either. Did it mean that? The prospect gave him more hope than he dared to admit.

“Where will this journey lead to?” he asked.

“It doesn’t work that way. This is divination, not a bullet point plan.” You reprimanded. Demetri had been so lost in your teacup he startled when the racoon jumped up beside him, a snicker escaping the little bastard. He fought the urge to swat at him, knowing it wouldn’t help him win you over if he tried to assault your friend. Your racoon friend…who could talk…good lord what had he gotten himself into?

“Fine, so we have one ambiguous teacup telling us our future holds faithful friends and a prosperous journey, but we do not know who these friends are or where this journey will take us, so we are no further forward than we were when we started.” Demetri pointed out, folding his arms over his chest. Your eyebrows rose.

“There happens to be a serpent’s fork tongued in the bottom of the cup, in the distant future.” You said, your tone ominously dark now. The racoon stiffened a bit, hopping forward to peer inside, nose twitching at the pungent smell of tea leaves. Demetri could sympathise with the thing on that account at least.

“And?” he prompted.

“Serpents signify spiteful enemies,” Castor sniffed, sitting on his hind legs again and scratching at his head.  “Distant is good though, we can plan for distant.”

“Forgive me but how is that racoon talking?” Demetri demanded, slowly losing his mind with every word that slipped from his mouth.

“That racoon? That racoon! Does he want to test whose teeth are sharper? I have a name you loathsome little leech!” he squeaked indignantly.

Demetri hissed slightly. “Then have it engraved on a collar.”

“Oh you – take that – the impertinence!” he could barely squeeze out a sentence, hissing and squeaking in between words as his lips trembled in a snarl, beady little eyes narrowed in the most vicious glare Demetri had ever seen on a racoon. If his skin wasn’t as impenetrable as it was he would actually be afraid of the feral little shit.

“Enough!” you cried, “Castor happens to be my familiar and you will treat him with the respect he deserves while you’re in my house and you! You stop antagonising him!” Demetri looked at you incredulously, Castor giving another annoyed little squeak before he scurried away, grumbling about rude vampires and ungrateful witches. Dropping your head in your hands you took a few deep breaths, and Demetri finally saw just how exhausted you were for the first time that night. He had been getting closer every time he tracked you, a brush of his fingers on your backpack and his hand actually around your arm once, but he had never once caught you until now. He was starting to suspect it wasn’t by accident either.

“Y/N…why now?” Demetri asked quietly. His eyes searched your face, but you didn’t dare meet his gaze, head hung low and fingers tightening in the roots of your hair.

“Because I am so tired of running from you. I am so, so tired…and I have nothing else,” you looked up, eyes swimming with emotions he couldn’t quite define just yet, “I have no final destination. Not even this house is mine anymore so tell my why exactly should I keep running? What am I running towards? Where do I run to?” Demetri stared you down, unsure what to say. He knew what he wanted to say, knew that he wanted to tell you you had been running from fate all along, from the very future your teacup told you you could have with prosperity and faithful relationships abundant. He sensed you weren’t ready for that yet, he had barely managed one civil conversation with you.

“Y/N, the signals back but Judge Judy’s finished! Can we get back deleted recordings from the box?” Castor yelled through. Y/N glanced briefly at the living room and shook her head. He had the most uncanny habit of interrupting for the most unimportant things at the most important moments.

“Stay, or don’t. Just don’t kill my familiar, or anyone else for that matter.” You said. With that, you left him in the kitchen trying to digest exactly what he had seen and heard that evening.

He also really needed to figure out a way to coexist with that racoon.

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Waterfall Memories by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 6/9

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly

Chapters titles are based on the lyrics from “Stubborn Love” by The Lumineers

Chapter 6: And I Don’t Blame You Dear for Running Like You Did

She finished the last of the dishes from breakfast, putting the plates away in the cabinet and turning toward the dog beside her feet on the floor. “What shall we do today?” The dogs barked, standing, and running in circles around her legs.

She looked around the cabin, books littering every surface. She grabbed one nearest to her, flipping through the pages to find them blank, empty, and begging to be filled. Looking around she found a pencil and blanket and gathered her items, opening the door and letting the dog outside. She followed him to the bench on the front porch.

There was water all around the cabin, some of it threatening to flow under the structure. Killian was standing on the side of the cabin, knee deep in the brown liquid, a shovel in his hands, his shirt tied to his side in a knot. She bit her lip as her eyes trailed his upper body, sun kissed from days he must have spent standing in the hot sun before the weather had turned cold.

She sat down on the bench, drawing her knees up to tuck her feet under her, wrapping the blanket around her as the dog curled up below her. She looked at the empty page and the pencil in her hand started to scratch at the white surface. She had no idea if she could draw, couldn’t remember ever trying, but the way the images took shape she thought maybe this was something she was good at in her other life. The one that was just out of reach of her memories.

She drew the forest, the water lying motionless in front of her, a dog splashing through the muddy sludge as a man stood, staring at the horizon. When she looked down at it minutes later, the shape of a swan in the distance was floating away from the cabin on the page before her. She sighed, looking up to watch Killian, now covered with beads of sweat, dripping deliciously down the crevice in his back, and she bit her lip. The man was the picture of sexy and mysterious. She wanted to know more about him, the story of how he got here, why he was alone. Yet she could tell that he was holding back from her, keeping pieces of himself hidden from her sight. What she wouldn’t give to tear back the layers and have him invite her in.

She turned the page of the book to start a new drawing but was surprised to see writing on the page, handwritten in a beautiful script. She should close the book, put it back where she found it and yet she found herself reading it.

Dearest Milah,

My love, I am in darkness without your light, I curse the sun for trying to replace the warmth that you no longer provide. I am in misery, these bars are not my affliction, my prison is of my own making. Even as I am released tomorrow, I will never escape the prison I created for myself. I have failed you. I failed Alice. There is blood on my hands, hate in my heart, revenge destroyed me. Destroyed our life. Our beautiful home. My perfect Alice. I am cursed. I fear that my heart will always be. I will never be at peace knowing the hell I brought upon my family. Your last moments knowing that I destroyed us. My life is forfeit, doomed to walk this earth with the knowledge that I am a monster. Undeserving of love. My fate is sealed. Hope is lost.

Killian

She ran her fingers across the lettering of his name, looking up at the man facing away from her, tearing at the soil beneath his feet. She needed to know more, yearned to understand how anyone could feel so tormented, so worthless. She ached for him.

Closing the book, she stood, watching from the corner of the house, observing his labor. She couldn’t exactly leave him this way. A few extra days to try and solve the mystery that was Killian Jones wouldn’t hurt her. Her life could wait if it meant helping the man who had so selflessly helped her.

She went back into the house, burying the book beneath a larger one, not wanting him to know that she had invaded his thoughts, his privacy. Looking around the cabin she decided she would do something nice for him. She began by picking up the items from the corner, dusting off the surfaces she could. She folded blankets, organized his books, placed the logs evenly beside the hearth and gathered the clothing to be washed in the bucket he kept by the back door.

When she had finished she looked around at the result of her work and smiled. Maybe she was married in her other life, she was pretty good at this house cleaning thing. She frowned, touching her ringless finger. Maybe she was just a maid in her other life. Was she hoping for that instead of having a husband who was lovingly looking for her? A man she had thus betrayed by her night with Killian.

The door opened abruptly, and Killian stepped into the tiny cabin. Tossing his boots into the corner by the door he turned and met her eyes. He seemed surprised to see her standing there, holding a broom, and sweeping the floors. It was so ridiculously domestic that she cursed herself for being found this way.

“I cleaned up.” She announced and his eyes roamed the room and to her surprise the corners of his mouth ticked upward.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. I wanted to.” She finished her task, setting the broom back behind the door and walking closer to him, reaching out to take the dirty shirt from his hands. “I was doing the wash.” She smiled shyly. He didn’t react, probably from the shock she imaged when she ran her fingers across his chest, dirt and grime slipping through her fingers. “You should do the same.” She added with a flirty grin. “Take a hot bath.” She turned away from him, her smile growing on her face, pleased with the reaction she elicited from him a moment before.

“Uh, yeah I’ll do that.” He stammered, walking toward the bedroom. “Thanks, Swan. For um, for tidying up. I’ve never had a guest before.”

She bowed her head. “Go bathe.” She returned her gaze to his eyes. “I’ll make some dinner.” He left the room, and she swore her heart was going to beat right out of her chest. She had half a mind to follow him right into the bathroom and have her way with the man. But instead, she walked the few steps away to the kitchen to start the meal she promised she would make. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, she thought. She had no idea why she knew that, but she was determined to find out if it was true.

~*~

Killian retreated from the room, trying to create as much distance as he could between him and the beautiful Swan who was currently domesticating his home. Seeing his place so neatly put together, the blonde woman putting such care and attention into something she had no investment in both confounded him and stirred emotions in him that he had buried, burned, destroyed years ago.

He shut the door to the bathroom, filling the buckets with water to put on the stove to heat but instead tossed the cool water into the tub, perhaps a hot bath was not what he needed right now unless he intended to do something completely stupid and reckless like ask the woman to join him.

He sunk down into the cold water, breathing slowly, erasing all the thoughts he had of how she had felt the night before. The taste of her skin, her intoxicating aroma as he plunged his tongue into her center.

Fuck.

Sinking below the water, he lay there, holding his breath, counting to ten before breaching the surface and gulping in air. He scraped at his skin, letting the soap cleanse the dirt and grime he had accumulated from his earlier work. The trench he had dug would allow the water to escape in a few days. The roads would be clear, and he would be able to drive back to town. This would be over, and he could return to his solitude.

He wrapped a towel around his waist, wandering into the bedroom to dress and pull a comb through his hair. If he was going to play house, he should at least look presentable to the woman who was sharing his fairytale. He rolled his eyes at the mirror, admonishing himself for playing along with this fantasy. Could it really hurt him to have a few nights of pretend? None of it was real. They both knew that. Perhaps it was a reprieve from the devil, or yet another way to torture him. Either way, he would take it.

He stepped from the room quietly as she flitted around the kitchen, humming a song to herself as she worked. She was a marvel to observe, a beautiful treasure in every way. When she caught him staring, she blushed, quieted, and turned back to the stove.

“It was lovely, don’t stop on my account.”

“I don’t know where it came from, it just sort of formed in my head. I guess I must have heard it in my other life” She mused, humming the notes again to You are my Sunshine.

She seemed almost angelic, standing in his kitchen with the sun shining across her golden locks. Before he could stop himself he realized he was singing the words to her melody. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey…”

She turned toward him, their eyes meeting. “That’s lovely.” She smiled. “Is that what I’m humming?”

“Aye.” She continued humming. “You’ll never know dear; how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.” He finished softly, standing in front of her with her back against the counter. Neither one of them moved and he was afraid to take a breath for fear she would disappear right in front of him. He wasn’t ready for her to dissolve, to leave his life. He cursed even admitting it. He liked having her here.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

“I used to sing that to Alice before she went to bed.” He said with a sad smile. “It was her favorite.”

He expected her to go back to her food preparations, to break the spell he was in, but instead she surprised him, reaching up to brush the wet hair from his forehead. A smile sweeter than any he could remember fell across her face as she stepped into his embrace, her lips grazing his jaw before touching his lips. It was over before it began, short yet sweet and full of emotion. He squeezed his lids tighter together to keep his emotions from spilling out. She stepped from his arms and his lids flittered open. “Food will be ready in a minute.”

No one had taken the kind of care she had. Cleaning his house, preparing a meal, comforting him. These were not things that were afforded to him. Yet here she was, a stranger, a woman who was within her rights to demand to be released and taken home immediately and yet she instead opted to care for him. He didn’t understand it. Didn’t want to. Because it would be gone before he had the ability to embrace it. Taken from him like everything else in his life.

“Smells good.” He announced suddenly, sitting down at the table.

“I wasn’t really sure what to make but you have such great vegetables.”

“Aye, I’m sure my garden is flooded now. But at least it’s watered.” He chuckled.

She sat the food in front of him and then made her own plate, taking the seat beside him. They ate in silence, but it was comfortable in the way she would smile at him between bites, or blush when he caught her eye.

After the food was consumed, they each took to the mundane task of cleaning up, side by side, working together. It required no forethought or communication, like they had been doing this their whole lives. “I don’t wish to upset you, Swan, but I think we make quite the team.” He teased, an expression that must have come from a moment of weakness pushing through his hardened exterior. “The place hasn’t looked this bright and cheerful in…” He scrunched his nose, “well, ever, I suppose.” Ending with a laugh that started low in his belly, but he felt through to his toes.

“Then I have completed the task I set out for myself this morning.” She smiled.

“What task was that love?”

“Getting you to do that.” She chuckled before continuing her thought. “Trying to ease some of that burden you seem to carry.”

He swallowed. “I suppose I can bury some of it for a few rare moments.” He pursed his lips. “Thank you.” He added sincerely.

“Can I ask you something?”

He shrugged, “I suppose.”

“What are you punishing yourself for?”

He exhaled, “Why do you assume I’m punishing myself?”

She shrugged, “You live alone, cut off from the world, as if you are condemning yourself to loneliness. I can’t imagine the man I know doing anything that would call for such isolation and sadness.”

“I have done many things in this life, Swan, most that I am not proud of. I am not a good man.”

“You saved me.” She whispered, her hands reaching for his. He wants to pull back, to keep the connection broken, but instead he allows her to take his hand.

“One good deed does not forgive a lifetime of bad behavior.” His voice cracked. He wished things were different, that she could stay here, maybe she would even heal his soul. But her life was not his to control. She belonged somewhere else; he was sure that her heart must even belong to another. Someone noble and deserving of her. A good man.

“It’s a start.” She leaned over, placing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Trust me, you have a mark in the hero column in my book.” Her words warmed his heart, he rewarded her with a genuine smile.

“Thank you, love. That means a great deal more than you know.”

She stood and wandered toward the couch, lighting candles along the way. As she sat down she gestured for him to join her. “It should be a few more days and I should be able to drive into town.” He added as he sat next to her.

“Well, let’s make sure the roads are safe before you try, perhaps we should wait until things are completely dry.”

He turned toward her, a hopeful feeling rising in his heart, a few more precious days with her. “Aye, good idea. Better to be safe.” She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder and for a moment he let himself get lost in the gesture. Imagining a new reality where this woman, his swan, stayed, and they would spend nights on the couch, lying together and talking about nothing.

“So, what do you do out here every day? Surely you must find something of interest to keep you busy.”

“Jolly and I do a lot of exploring, fishing over on the west banks, or hunting for game. I suppose when we aren’t doing that I read.”

“I noticed you had a lot of books.”

“Aye, my brother taught me how to read when I was very small. I suppose it become a passion of mine.”

“You have a brother.”

His chest rose and fell with the exhale he exerted. “I did, yes. Liam. He was a good man.”

“Was?”

“Aye. Gone.”

“Your parents?”

“Died when we were young.”

“So, you truly are alone.” She offered sadly.

“Well, I have Jolly.” The dogs head lifted off his lap as he lay next to him. He patted his head. “He provides good company.”

“Have you ever thought of moving back home?”

“No home to return to.”

“But you could move back to where you are from, start a new life.”

“I’m afraid that’s not an option for me, love.”

“You could come with me.” His heart stilled.

“Love, whatever is waiting out there for you, I assure you, it is far more worthy of you than me. You don’t know anything else right now, that’s where all of this is coming from. You’re clinging to what you know because you can’t remember what you don’t.”

She sat up, staring at him. “Stop doing that. Stop discounting yourself like you are some demon, unworthy of compassion. I don’t care what you’ve done in your past, I only see who you are now.”

“Swan, you wouldn’t say that if you knew who I really was.”

“Then tell me.”

“I can’t.” He shook his head in frustration.

“Why not.”

“Because…I don’t want to see that look of disappointment in your eyes. I can’t bear to have one more person hate me because of what I’ve done. I just want you to see me as you do right now. Before you leave. Even if it’s only for a few days.” His honestly surprised him, almost scared him to admit his feelings out loud. He enjoyed that she stared at him with compassion, almost reverence. He wanted her to want him, to see him as the man he used to be, long ago. He couldn’t keep her, but perhaps he could have this feeling long after she was gone. Someone had seen him, the Killian Jones he remembered, the one that Milah trusted and loved. The man who would sing lullabies to his daughter and earned her devotion. If someone could still find that man in him, maybe it was enough to keep him sane long after she was gone.

“Take me to bed.” Her eyes were full of passion, desire, need. Killian rose from the couch, hoisting her into his arms. “Be my love, if only for a while.” She whispered against his neck and he found her mouth, taking her lips with his. Tonight, he would take her as his own, they would have these moments together, no matter how fleeting they would be.

As he buried himself inside of her, pouring every ounce of passion into his kiss, he thought only of her, his Swan. As she lay, curled into his side afterwards, her eyes staring into his with a warmth of devotion, he imagined a life that wasn’t his. A life where he made her happy, where he loved this woman with all his heart and he drifted off to sleep, knowing that even though it wasn’t real, he could almost believe it, almost feel it burrowing deep into his heart.

Hope.

[rosemaidenvixen]

In the Fullness of Time

Chapter 4: Years Past

Ao3

Content warning: Classist language, Violation of bodily autonomy without knowledge or consent

Merlin swore as the carriage went over yet another bump.

“A thousand pardons Lord Merlin sir!” Galahad called from outside “Road’s a bit rough out this ways,”

Rough, that was a gentle way to put it. Was this an actual road or were they driving over a legion of troll remains? This was no way for a Master Wizard to travel, but where he was going his preferred forms of magical transportation would not be...well received “How much longer Galahad?”

Without warning the carriage jerked to a stop, Merlin letting out a whole string of curses as he was nearly thrown from his seat.

“We’ve arrived! Mind your boots, ground’s a touch muddy,”

“...Thank you for the warning,” Merlin grumbled, getting to his feet and opening the carriage door.

If anything Galahad had understated the conditions. The road, if one applied the term quite loosely, was nothing more than a coarse dirt track that went from the larger, more maintained road to their destination. Thoroughly churned by countless wagons and boots until it was a quagmire of mud and rubish, reaching ankle deep in places.

Merlin let out a sigh, resigned himself to the inevitable filth, and stepped down, grimacing as his boots sank into the muck. The small company of knights around him dismounted with a clatter of metal and leather. Galahad himself hopped off the front of the carriage and jogged up to face Merlin “What are your orders sir?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Merlin said while gracefully stepping around the knight “You and your men may stand down, I shall deal with this myself,”

Moving with surprising speed, Galahad ran forward and once again blocked his path “With all due respect, I cannot do that, the king’s orders are that all unregistered magic users be investigated by a company of trained knights, no exceptions,”

Merlin barely suppressed a grumble, it was rather impressive how Arthur managed to be both brilliant and a fool “Very well then, set up a perimeter around this…” he glanced warily at the buildings ahead of them “village...don’t want any surprises coming in or getting out,”

“Right on then,” Galahad turned towards the knights “You heard the man, spread out and surround the village! No surprises in or out,”

The knights all rushed to obey, Galahad joining them, as Merlin walked up the road straight into the thicket of buildings. He could have easily handled this by himself, no need for busybodies gumming up the works. But Arthur insisted on the knights’ presence to...what was it? Reassure the masses…

Merlin spared a glance at the people of the hamlet as he passed through. 

Men and women in clothes just as patchy and ragged as the buildings around them lined either side of his path. As soon as they noticed his presence they parted like all of the sea, ducking inside buildings and hurrying down alley ways. Some peeked at him out of cracked windows and doors while speaking to each other in hushed whispers. A precious few stood their ground, glaring openly at Merlin as he passed by, nearly drawing a laugh out of the Wizard. 

Ignorant rabble the lot of them. 

Fools who spent their lives with noses buried so deep in the dirt they couldn’t be bothered to look up at the stars.

There had been a time in his youth that he longed to teach people like these. To use his powers to help those that lacked the tools to help themselves. To bring enlightenment to those that clung stubbornly to the dark.

Had he ever really been that young?

Merlin shook his head to dispel the daydreams. 

More likely than not this so-called sorcerer was someone that happened to swear right as a pitcher of milk was falling to the floor. Soon enough Merlin could clear this all up and be on his way. As it was all he wanted was to get back to Camelot and have his boots cleaned to a polish. 

A space opened up in front of him as he reached the heart of the village, Merlin paused and glanced around. Most decent sized settlements surrounding Camelot had a central building of sorts, usually used for storage and official gatherings. Even smaller communities had squares that served much of the same purpose.

This town, if it was large enough to truly be considered that, had neither of those things. The only sort of central feature present was a modest stone well, which a large crowd was gathered around.

“--which is why we need to burn him!” a woman’s voice screeched “We cannot tolerate this evil blight in our midst!”

“And anger the demons who made him? Are you mad!? No, we have to sink him in the bog, give him back to his own,” 

“I’m not touching him! You know what Fae do to those who mess with them and theirs, best to wait for the king’s men to come, let them deal with--”

“We’re wasting time! Just give me a barrel and a cartful of peat and I’ll do the job myself!”

Merlin cleared his throat softly, just loud enough to make the gathered crowd turn in his direction. Upon sighting him nearly every one of them gasped and staggered back in alarm. Only three held their ground, two men and a woman, the one who so fiercely advocated for burning if he remembered right.

He allowed his face to mold into the placating smile he so often used when discussing magic with those who hadn’t the slightest idea how it worked “Good morrow to you folk, I am Merlin Ambrosius, here on behalf of the king. Now I understand you’ve been having trouble with a sorcerer?”

One of the men, the one in charge if his slightly cleaner coat and trousers were anything to go by, stepped forward and stammered out a response “Y-- yes, we have him locked up for now, but there’s no telling what kind of curses he’s brewing,”

Even with all of Merlin’s considerable patience, he was barely able to keep from rolling his eyes. These simpletons wouldn’t know a curse if he conjured one up right in front of them.

Well time to go clear this up and let the village goat herd or whoever it was out of wherever they’d penned him up “I promise you have nothing to fear, a squadron of the king’s best knights are here with me and they will allow no harm to befall you. Now take me to this sorcerer of yours and I will deal with him myself,”

The crowd visibly relaxed at his words; or more precisely, upon learning of the knights’ presence, the village headman slowly nodding at him “Follow me then,”

Merlin allowed himself to be lead to the far side of the village, with the rest of the group trailing behind. No doubt curious about his powers as much as they feared and despised them. The headman stopped at the edge of the buildings, pointing into the trees beyond “He’s in there,”

A cave barred with a wooden door was built into a hill a short distance away from the village proper. A space no doubt ordinarily used for storage now converted to a makeshift prison cell.

The headman twisted his cap in his hands “So...how long will it take you to--”

“That will be enough,” Merlin waved him off “I’ll take care of everything from here on out,”

The headman swallowed hard but still stepped aside to let Merlin pass, striding towards the cave. None of the villagers followed him, of course not that he expected any of them to.

Reaching the cave door, he opened it a crack and poked his head in. It was too dark to see the contents of the cave, the light of the open door doing little to penetrate the gloom.

“Hello?” Merlin called into the dark cave “Anyone in here?”

No reply from within the cave was forthcoming. Merlin remained standing in the doorframe in silence for a few moments. 

His patience was rewarded when a soft sniffle broke through the silence.

Merlin blinked in surprise. Well that was...unexpected.

He opened the door all the way, banishing some, but not all of the shadows. Allowing for his eyes to adjust just enough to see a small figure huddled in the far corner of the cave.

A child, dark haired, a boy by the looks of it, sat curled up on the floor of the cave. And by the look of how dirty and disheveled he was, he had been in here for some time. Clear tracks ran down his cheeks from where tears had cut through the dust. The child wasn’t crying at the moment, though whether that was due to exhaustion or dehydration remained to be seen.

Merlin strode over, slowly as not to startle him, and got down on one knee a few feet in front of the boy “Hello there,”

The child said nothing but followed him with his eyes, clearly trying to gauge how much of a threat the Wizard was.

Merlin gave his best, non-threatening, smile “Let’s lighten things up a bit, shall we?” he held out his palm, and with the barest breath of effort a green witchlight flared to life there before floating up to the cave ceiling, filling the small space with emerald light. 

A parlor trick by his standards, but it served as a good example to those not versed in the subtleties of Wizardry.

The child lifted his head to stare at the witchlight as it ascended to the roof of the cave, mouth open and eyes large with wonder.

“Now tell me young one…”

Aware he was being addressed, the child tore his gaze away from the ceiling to stare back at the Wizard, wariness coming off of him in palatable waves.

“Can you do anything like that?”

Merlin expected the child to shake his head, or at the most mumble a soft no. So it came as no small shock when the child raised his own tiny palm and stared at it with furrowed intensity.

His astonishment was even greater when cerulean sparks flared to life in the boy’s hand.

They flickered for a few seconds before going out, the boy letting out a small puff of exhaustion as they did.

This was no charlatan or victim of coincidence, this boy had actual power. And for someone of his age to even attempt to mimic a spell after only seeing it performed in front of him once…

This boy had potential.

And Merlin would be damned if he let such potential waste away in a dank cave.

Merlin got down on both knees “What is your name young one?”

“Hi-- Hisirdoux,”

“Well then Hisirdoux, what do you say we go outside and discuss things further?”

“I...I can’t…”

“Of course you can, others may not like what you can do but if I say you can leave no one will stop you,”

“But…” Hisirdoux raised one of his arms ever so slightly, a soft clink of metal accompanying the action.

A sound no louder than a cricket’s chirp, deafening to Merlin’s ears.

“Boy, show me your hands,”

Hisirdoux complied, stretching both arms out in front of him, allowing Merlin to see crude iron shackles wrapped around his wrists, sloppily fastened to heavy chains bolted into the cave wall.

Merlin had been millenia old even before Camelot was founded. He’d watched empires rise and crumble. And he’d seen every manner of cruelty that humans could inflict on each other. By now there was no atrocity that was capable of shocking him.

This however, gave him pause.

“Hold still Hisirdoux, let me get those off you,”

Merlin moved closer, raising a hand over Hisirdoux’s wrists, gently probing into the shackles with his magic. 

Elemental iron was the antithesis to magic and could impede it in any form, from raw ore to rusty nails, but it’s true power of binding lay in its shaping. Molding the earth and bending it your will, ingenuity triumphing over the unknown. And a clever and experienced Wizard such as himself could see through the patterns of iron’s construction and unravel it.

It was not difficult, these shackles were especially crude. Hastily hammered together from materials never intended to bind. Probably why Hisirdoux was still able to manifest some power. So it only took a minute, then a flick of his fingers and the shackles fell to the ground.

However the damage had been done.

Hisirdoux whimpered, gently poking at one of the angry red burn marks with a wince. 

Merlin laid both hands over the boy’s wrists.

“Sana et integro,”

Bands of green light bloomed to life and wrapped around the burn marks, slowly fading as they sank into the skin, taking some of the bright redness with it. It wouldn’t heal Hisirdoux completely, but it should end his pain for now.

However he would carry the scars with him for the rest of his life.

Had his neighbors known how badly the iron would injure him, a young child fresh into his magic, or had they merely been concerned with sealing his power away at any cost?

The real question was if any of them bloody cared.

“Better?”

Hisirdoux nodded with a sniffle.

“Good,” Merlin reached over and gently cupped his chin, the boy flinching at the contact, tilting his head up to look him in the eye “Hisirdoux, what I can do and what you can do is called magic, the ability to channel the arcane energies of the universe to bend them to your will,”

Hisirdoux said nothing, merely stared up at him with wide, but not frightened, eyes.

“You are capable of so much more than you know, and if you become my apprentice, I can teach you how to wield your powers to their fullest potential,”

“B...but I don’t want to be an apprentice, I want to stay here with mother and father,”

Merlin held back a sigh of disappointment. Hisirdoux might not have realized it yet, but he had no home here, not anymore. No matter, that truth would make itself known soon enough, the only thing to do was get it over with as quickly as possible. no reason for Merlin to prolong the inevitable.

“Very well then,” Merlin stood and extended his hand “I will take you to them,”

Even though he was far from being moved by such things, sentimentality being something he’d abandoned centuries ago, seeing the flash of hope on Hisirdoux’s face and knowing how unfounded it was hardly felt pleasant.

Hisirdoux reached up, tiny fingers grasping his own, and pulled himself to his feet. Following along as Merlin stepped out of the cave, wincing as they stepped into the bright sunlight.

How many days has his parents sat back and allowed him to be locked away in the dark?

Merlin wasn’t overly fond of the sensation of the tiny, grubby fingers grasping his own, but it was the best way to keep Hisirdoux from running off. If their talk of burning earlier hadn’t convinced him, seeing Hisirdoux’s condition in the cave cinched it. 

The boy was not safe here.

And sure enough, as they approached the village, Hisirdoux brightened, and started to pull away “Mother! Father!”

Merlin kept his grip on Hisirdoux’s hand firm, not letting go as they stepped up to the gathered villagers, despite the boy’s attempts to pull away. Steeling his expression when he saw the mother and father Hisirdoux was looking at.

Hopefully Hisirdoux never had to learn that his mother wanted to burn him alive.

The tell-tale clatter of plate armor came up from beside him, and Merlin turned to see Galahad rapidly approaching. 

“How goes it finding the unregistered sorcerer, any luck?”

Merlin paused and greeted the knight with a nod, ignoring Hisirdoux’s attempts to break free and run to his parents “As a matter of fact I have, he right here,”

“Where? All I see is some waifish…..” Galahad trailed off, eyes going wide from behind his bushy brows.

Good to see Merlin wasn’t the only one appalled at how these villagers had treated their ‘sorcerer’. 

And speaking of a crowd was starting to form around them, drawn by Merlin’s appearance and Hisirdoux’s shouts. 

Merlin straightened to his full height and squared his shoulders.

Time to reset the wound as quickly as possible.

“False alarm everyone,” he gestured towards the squirming Hisirdoux with one hand while looking around at the gathered villagers “This boy does have magic, but he is of no threat to you, you can all go back to your ordinary lives,”

Hisirdoux strained as he continued to try and escape Merlin’s grip and run to his parents “Mother! Mother! I can come home now!”

The mother in question stepped up close and glowered down at him, expression hard enough that it caused Hisirdoux’s brightness to dim “That’s not my boy, not any longer, that child is tainted by darkness, he has no place in my house or in this village,”

No one else around them spoke up, either in agreement or objection, although based on the looks on their faces they hardly disagreed.

Hisirdoux froze, expression beginning to crumple “But moth--”

“Don’t you dare!” the woman shrieked, the sheer venom dripping from her voice enough to cause Hisirdoux, some of the villagers around her, and even Galahad to recoil “Don’t you dare address me as your mother! You’re a curse, a demon, you dare to call yourself our child, deceiving us and hiding your true nature so you can bring ruin to us all--”

“Beloved enough,” the man next to her put an arm around her waist and gently pulled her back “I know this is a trying time for you, but you must not lose yourself in such wrathful displays,”

He put both hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye “Our child may be tainted by Fae magics, but all is not lost, soon the evil will be gone. And there will be more children between us,”

She sighed, slumping in his grip “You are right, soon our village will be godly once more, and we will have more children to replace the one we lost,”

Hisirdoux had gone completely still, staring up at his parents with an utterly horrified, heartbroken expression. 

His father turned back towards Merlin “My wife speaks true, that’s no son of mine, either you take care of him or we’ll do it ourselves,”

An unfortunate but not unexpected response “Very well then,” he gave a gentle tug on the fingers still clasped in his “Hisirdoux?”

The boy looked up at him, eyes brimming. 

“My offer still stands, do you wish to become my apprentice?”

He gave a terse nod, tiny faced pinched in the effort to hold back tears.

“Then let us go and--”

“Hang on,” Hisirdoux’s father cut in “You can’t just carry my son off,”

Merlin raised an eyebrow “I thought you said he was no son of yours?”

The man flushed but held his ground “I sired him, raised him, and fed him. Can’t just let anyone go carrying him off with nothing to show for it,”

The sheer audacity of this man stopped Merlin in his tracks “How are you to demand such a thing when you’ve made it quite clear you’re not interested in taking him back?”

A triumphant glint entered the man’s eyes “You seem fairly interested in him, wouldn’t want to leave him and have something happen now would you?”

Merlin’s expression darkened, disgust he’d thought himself long past feeling slowly trickling into his chest. He’d seen poor reactions to people discovering their child was touched by magic many times before, this was far from the first time Merlin had witnessed parents proclaim their child dead while they stood living before their eyes. But never in all his centuries had he witnessed any cling so greedily to the corpse “You presume much if you think you can command me to--”

“It’s not as though you can just carry him off,” the the man said, unnervingly calm “The king wouldn’t be happy to hear of his Master Wizard carrying off children from their parents. So you can either pay my price or I’ll find someone who will,” 

Around him the other villagers, his wife included, were murmuring in agreement. Mentions of prices or even other options should Merlin prove unwilling to pay floating up in hushed bits of conversation.

Hisirdoux glanced back and forth between the two men. As young as he was he couldn’t possibly understand the intricacies of the situation surrounding him. But he clearly understood something, some base instinct informing him of the peril he was in, that he stood at the crossroads of danger and safety. His tiny fingers gripping Merlin’s hand with all the feeble strength he could muster. 

The disgust filling him deepened into a rage the likes of which he hadn’t felt in decades. Merlin had to make an effort not to shatter Hisirdoux’s fingers in his grip. From off to the side he could see Galahad watching the entire exchange with his jaw hanging open.

These people, who owned little more than the clothes on their backs, had been blessed with a child with immense magical potential, who possessed the power to potentially build their hamlet up to a kingdom in its own right, and this was how they treated him? They didn’t even afford him the dignity that they would a rat or a wolf, to them Hisirdoux was merely property. Blighted property that they had no desire to keep, but every right to sell to the highest bidder.

These fools had done what in a single afternoon what beings far greater than them had spent years trying and failing to accomplish.

They had made Merlin angry.

He let out a sigh and hung his head “Very well, name your price,”

The man grinned victoriously “Eighty pounds and not a pence less,”

“Fine,” Merlin said coldly.

The man blinked, clearly expecting some haggling involved.

“Galahad,” 

The knight jerked towards him, startled out of his stupefied state.

“Write up a contract stating that these two,” he inclined his head towards the couple in front of him “Are to receive eighty pounds in exchange for signing over their son to be a ward of the crown,”

Galahad nodded slowly, pulling open his bag of parchment and official seals “I’ll get right on that,” he glanced down at Hisirdoux, tears now openly rolling down his small face “How about you two go ahead and wait in the carriage, I won’t be but a minute,”

Merlin nodded, turning and tugging Hisirdoux after him as he headed away from the village and back towards the awaiting carriage.

He waited until Galahad and the crowd of villagers were far out of earshot before starting the chant. Hisirdoux could no doubt hear him, but he would neither remember the words or understand their significance.

Merlin preferred not to use blood magic, both due to the impracticality and the immense risk, but today he would make an exception.

Hisirdoux’s parents, with a complete lack of understanding of magic and how it functions, had declared their child tainted and cut him out of their hearts and community. Deciding to either sell him to offset their so-called loss or kill him and be done with it.

Well if that was the way they treated their firstborn child, Merlin would ensure that there would be no more children after Hisirdoux, for either of them.

From now until their dying days Hisirdoux’s parents would never again bear children, neither with each other nor any other partner.

The words felt cold and slimy falling from his lips, the magic they invoked soft and subtle. Slowly creeping into the bodies of Hisirdoux’s mother and father, altering them just enough to accomplish his goal.

Of course the blood magic curse would only affect those two, the rest of the village, the ones who had been complicit at best and gleeful participants at worst, would not share its effects.

But they would see Hisirdoux’s parents, see what the curse did to them without ever knowing the cause for certain. And they would wonder, and they would be afraid. 

He completed his curse just as the carriage and the rest of the knights came into view, falling silent as he stepped up to them, from far behind he could feel the last traces of magic settle into place and the curse take hold.

Merlin helped Hisirdoux climb the steps into the carriage, from behind him he heard Galahad come up and call to the rest of the knights.

“Alright we’re burning daylight, let’s get a move on!”

A quick glance to the west revealed just how right Galahad was, the sun was now far lower in the sky and they needed to hurry if they wanted to make it to safety before the darkness came and brought trolls with it. Moving swiftly, he stepped into the carriage and shut the door behind him, lifting Hisirdoux up onto the seat and sitting himself beside him just as the carriage pulled to a start.

Hisirdoux remained silent the whole while, had been ever since he’d heard what his parents truly thought of him, eyes locked on the small window, watching the village that had been his home slowly fade into the distance. 

“Hisirdoux,” Merlin spoke softly “I know you must be dealing with quite a lot right now, but you need to understand that there is nothing inherently wrong with your abilities. They are a tool like a sword or a hammer that can be used for good or for ill. They are not evil or corrupt they simply are,” 

The boy refused to look directly at him, eyes bright and lip trembling.

“How your village reacted to your abilities isn’t a reflection of your faults, but of theirs,”

Hisirdoux didn’t react aside from a sniffle, small shoulders starting to shake.

Years from now Hisirdoux would look back on this day as nothing more than a faded scar, a memory of a wound long since healed. But the future was far away, and today the wound was still fresh and raw. Merlin had said and done all he could for now; some wounds could only be healed with time. 

Settling back in his seat, Merlin turned to glance out his own window, prepared to spend the rest of the trip in silence.

Without warning something abruptly pressed into his side.

Startled, Merlin glanced sharply down, only to see Hisirdoux clinging to his torso, openly sobbing against him.

The sight was so baffling that Merlin didn’t know how to react. 

What on earth did this boy think he was doing? Merlin was a Master Wizard, not some nursemaid Hisirdoux could cling to whenever he wished. Merlin’s duty as his master was to instruct him in the ways of magic and that was it, he’d hire a nanny for everything else. If Hisirdoux was going to be his apprentice the boy needed to bloody well learn the difference between the two straight away.

He raised a hand to push Hisirdoux away, but paused just before it could touch him. Keeping it poised in the air for a few seconds, Hisirdoux’s weak sobs echoing in the small carriage, before dropping it with a sigh. Lowing his hand to softly pat Hisirdoux’s back instead.

Perhaps some indulgence was in order, the boy had just been cast out of his home and family. Granted it didn’t look like either of those had been worth very much, but still they were all that he had ever known.

This couldn’t be a regular occurrence, as soon as they got to Camelot Merlin would arrange for a proper nanny to handle caring for Hisirdoux. As master and apprentice, Merlin was responsible for Hisirdoux’s education and nothing else. But just for today, he would make an exception.

As their journey went on, the carriage rocking along as it carried them down the rugged road, Hisirdoux’s sobs gradually softened into sniffles, Merlin rubbing his back all the while, eventually he quieted altogether, though still remaining curled up against Merlin’s side.

“Hisirdoux?” Merlin said quietly.

No response.

He glanced down, glimpsing shut eyes and a slack face, a soft snore escaping him.

For a moment Merlin just stared incredulously. 

The child had fallen asleep on him, of all the impertinent-- good lord what if he started drooling on him?

Merlin briefly considered trying to move him, before settling back in resignation. If he tried to move the boy chances are he would wake up, and after being locked away for days with hardly any food or water and his wrists wrapped in iron...Hisirdoux needed a good rest.

And while Merlin wasn’t smitten with the idea of being drooled on, at least while he was sleeping Hisirdoux would be quiet and out of the way.

Tilting forward as much as he could without disturbing the sleeping child, Merlin peeked out his window, and again out the opposite one. Seeing no knights riding near enough to see inside, he swiftly snapped his fingers. A blanket on the opposite seat becoming sheathed in green light, leaping over and tucking itself securely around Hisirdoux’s sleeping form, the light around it vanishing just as quickly as it appeared

Satisfied that the deed had gone unwitnessed, Merlin leaned back and gave Hisirdoux one more soft pat on the back as the carriage continued on down the road.

[writerforfun]

Underwing Challenge Day 5

What’s your favorite excerpt from this WIP so far?

Making the whole plot really.

Collection: I enjoyed collecting the different sources where I could gain my plot from, things that could inspire me. But gosh did I love writing up each character's outline.

But I really love writing this part for my first tale in this series.

The gloomy atmosphere greeted Mark as he sat alone in the dark. An hour, an hour is all it would take for him to be there, for him to see her one last time, to see her in the being placed beneath the dirt, to say goodbye.

He leaned back, his back gentle hitting the sheets of the bed, giving him comfort, maybe just maybe if he could go to sleep, he would not have to go there at least not to bury her. If only that were possible.

The sheet pulled him with the darkness, the drawn curtains made sure no light entered, his dark black suit of sorrow and the gloomy welcoming care of the atmosphere called him to sleep, with gentle hands of a caring mother, sleepy, that's how he felt, sleepy.

At that moment he wondered 'Is that how she felt too?' His eyes shut at the thought, a single tear fell from his eyes. He could have saved her. He could have saved him. He could have saved both. If John was here then so would she. She would be here along with him but he was not here and now nor was she.

"Hush little baby don't say a word. And never mind the noise you heard. It's just the beast under your bed. In your closet, in your head."

His eyes flew open at the lovely melody. A melody so depressing, so sad. He searched for the source, desperately. His hair covering his eyes shielding him from seeing the truth.

"Hush little baby you're almost dead. Lay down your struggle and rest your head. Calm your mind. Let yourself go. You won't be missed, no one will know"

His eyes looked into the mirror, eyes widening in shock. The mirror stared back, smiling with gleaming joy. The dark image he saw yesterday vanished. A cloud of dark rain pouring blood, of thunder roaring in the mirror. He stared at himself, finally, he saw his reflection if only that would have brought him joy, if only. Smiling his reflection sang.

"Hush little baby it's time to die. Time to scream an unheard goodbye. Your broken song will go unsung. It's sad to lose a life so young."

He rose something shining in the mirror, his hair drenched in blood, thunder crackling at him, his reflection raised the knife. Waving it in front of the real Mark, smiling as tears dripped from his eyes, looking at Mark and then at the knife. Mark knew what it meant, who wouldn't know of it.

Maybe next time it would be him joining his mother and brother.

Only for me to go ahead and do this shit in the next chapter.

"Great job, Mark. You can rest."

Honey eyes glared back through the thick glass, breathing deep into the mask supplying him with life. His head ached and his eyes hurt. God knows, how the dark liquid didn't burn his sight. Lifting his hand up, with great effort he tapped the glass.

His vision blurred, his body ready to collapse. He gazed through towards the darkness, as the distant figure approached him. The speaker boomed

"Subject R, thank you for your cooperation."

Breathing heavily, he nodded, head heavy, eyes dull.

"Your session has expired. Please return."

As the green light emitted above with a loud gong, he watched.

Watched as the liquid drained, his glass cage sucking it away.

Watched at he was lowered down, leaving him on his shaky legs to fall.

Watched as the mask was sucked away from him, leaving him gasping for air.

And watched as the glass lifted, slowly letting the cold air grace his soaked form.

Saw him step through the shadows, his white coat lifting as he came.

"Your control needs work." the man said, as Mark felt his eyes grow heavy.

"Sleep and we shall begin tests again."

"Yes," he said, voice groggy, "Professor Mcherzt" Darkness took him.

But the voice echoed.

Experiment 1034:

4 hours 30 minutes.

The subject seems to be getting better, however, his control is still limited.

Conclusion: Progress.

The experiment is on hiatus.

For now.

To Find the Truth: I started it just I think maybe a day ago and gosh am I loving the process of short stories I will add. I feel really happy with this one. Although it is quite an effort to start if off right now. I have many of the stories down. 14 so far and still looking for more.

Here is what the first story with feature:

The main character (who is a detective) randomly gets a package one day with some numbers and a pair of rusty old glasses.

Upon careful research, she learns what the numbers are. After locating the exact location she finds an empty piece of land until she wears the glasses.

I can't really tell the exact, plot or much more than this but I'm so excited to write this one. And I really hope I can get done with the instruction for this book and get started on the short tales.

Also, please do not use the exact plot prompt if you like it.

Oh, and to keep the two who showed interest updated:

@writerthatcantspell1 @hellishhin

hop you don't mind I tagged you

[abduct-me-helen]

Class 108's Apocalypse Field Trip | Chapter 4.

“So, are we going to talk about it? Or….” Martin asked, looking at Jon with an expression he found he couldn’t decipher. The chatter of class 108 filled the comfortable silence that would usually occupy them on their journey.

“About what?” Jon avoided the question, turning his head back to check on the rest of the class. They’d originally formed two lines, headed by Jon at the front of both and Martin at the back. That had quickly fallen apart, and now they were more of a…blob, if anything.

Martin gave him a look. “I still don’t know how you’re smiting things here! I was about to ask you before we came across the school, but I decided it was best to wait until we calmed down a bit.”

“I-I killed it. I have the power, so I…so I killed it.” Jon turned his head away, facing decidedly frontwards.

“Yeah, but like, how? I’m-I’m sorry, I just don’t understand what actually happened.” Martin gestured, confused and frustrated.

“I-It’s hard to explain. We’re coming upon a domain of the,” he grimaced, memories of dirt and choking and pressure momentarily overtaking him, “buried. I would really rather-”

The sound of knocking cut him off, and the squeak of hinges made everyone silent. Static crackled, and Katie, ever alert, got out her knife just before Rosie silently directed everyone to draw their “weapons.”

Jon didn’t know what a pencil sharpener would do to the distortion, but he didn’t want to find out.

Martin turned, confused at why the quiet had set in. “What-”

“Look down, Martin.”

“Oh.” He paused, startled. “Wait, what?”

“No one get to close!” He called, running his hands through his hair and sighing. “Hello, Helen.”

“Oh, Hello! In a better mood now, are we? Feeling safer now that you know how to kill? And you’ve got a whole gang with you! How exiting.” Her eyes seemed to light up, literally.

“YEET.” Tabitha threw a pencil sharpener at Helen, but her body seemed to twist and absorb it in impossible ways, making Tabitha’s head hurt. She shook it off. “Stay away from us! Begone thot!”

The rest of the class began to recite various vines in agreement.

“GET REKT!” “YOUR MOM’S A HOE!” “WALK AWAYAHAYAHAYHAY”

Martin facepalmed. Jon exhaled, forcing down the urge to scream.

Helen blinked, then her mouth pulled into an impossible grin. “You’ve got quite a crowd here, don’t you Archivist?”

Jon narrowed his eyes. “Touch them, and I will end you.”

Helen laughed and echoing laugh that hurt his ears. “Oh, Archivist. You really have grown! But no, I’m here for a chat. We are friends, aren’t we archivist? Allies?”

He gritted his teeth. “Sure.”

Martin butted in. “Will you tell me how he did it?”

“Martin-” Jon protested.

“He just keeps on being all vague about it.” Martin complained. Helen seemed to light up.

“Oh goodness. You see what you’ve done to the poor boy, Jon? He’s coming to me for answers.” She cackled, and Jon glowered.

“Shut up.” He said.

She giggled. “It is very satisfying though, isn’t it? Teasing the vague information? You can see why Elias got a kick out of it.”

“Elias?” Rosie questioned. “Isn’t that your boss?”

“That’s Eyeball Daddy’s sugar baby.” Tabitha told her. Rosie made an ‘ah’ noise of recognition.

Helen cackled in delight. “That’s what you’re calling him? Oh, I like you.” She grinned, and Tabitha made an awkward face. What was she supposed to do, when she’d somehow won the favor of an eldritch door person?

Take it like a champ, I guess, she thought.

“Don’t.” Martin said protectively.

“Don’t what, love?” Helen asked, batting her eyelashes. (Literally, bats flew out of them).

“Whatever you’re thinking of doing, stay away from them.” Helen pouted as Martin finished.

“But you aren’t any fun.” She said, her mouth curled downward in mock sadness.

“Look-just, just explain. Please.” Martin changed the subject, imploring her to alleviate his confusion. Jon glowered, but stayed decidedly still.

“Well,” she began, sporting a sharp grin, “We’re all here, Martin. The Stranger, the Buried, the Desolation, all of us. But the Eye still rules. All this fear is being performed for its benefit. And so, there are now exactly two roles available in this new world of ours: The Watcher, and the Watched. Subject, and object. Those who are feared, and those who are afraid. And John, well-he is part of the Eye. A very important part. And he’s able to, shall we say, shift its focus. Turn the one into the other. And for those of us whose very existence relies on being feared, well: to be turned into a victim destroys us utterly. And very, very painfully.”

A silence fell over everyone, before Cypress broke it.

“So, what you’re saying is, the clap of his ass cheeks alerted the Eye?” He questioned, ginger curls bobbing as he tilted his head.

“Eyeball Daddy.” Raphi muttered.

Helen sported a look of delight, before cackling once again. She wiped a tear from her eye, and Rosie noted that it was the color of a highlighter. As it fell to the ground, the grass it came in contact with seemed to glow.

“You really are fun!” She declared gleefully. “Archivist, for someone so dour you certainly have lively company. Who are all of you then?” Her head twisted unnaturally in interest.

Elliot instinctively looked to Rosie, and shrugged when he met her eyes. Her own were narrowed in thought, before she shook her head. Helen grinned.

“Oh! A smart one. But no, I’m not a fae and you are, regrettably, protected by our Archivist.” She sighed dramatically.

Jon ran a hand through his hair. “She’s right.” Helen lit up. Really. She glowed.

Tabitha, ever curious, tilted her head. “I’m Tabitha. Are you with the smexy weed?”

“The smexy weed?” Helen asked, unapologetically amused, “whatever do you mean?”

Cal let out a short laugh and Katie rolled her eyes.

“The one that makes you high.” Elliot intoned (un)helpfully.

Martin groaned. “Wh-you know what. I’m just going to leave it.”

Helen was grinning now. “Yes! I’m with the Spiral, or the smexy weed, if you prefer!”

“Dope.” Elliot said, and Rosie raised an eyebrow.

“Wait a second,” Martin spoke, putting his hands up and turning to Jon, “why were you being so cryptid about it anyway? It doesn’t seem very complicated so I don’t know why you were being so coy about-”

“Because I’m ashamed, Martin.” Jon cut him off, sighing and clenching his jaw.

“Ashamed?!”

“Yes! Ashamed of the fact that I just-destroyed the world and have been rewarded for it, the fact that-I can walk safe through all this horror I’ve created like a…fucking tourist, destroying whoever I please. The fact that I…enjoyed it, and…the fact that there are so many others that I want to revenge myself on!”

A pall of silence fell over them.

“Mr. Sims?” Cypress spoke.

Jon sighed. “Yes?”

“You said the fuck word.” Cypress informed him solemnly. The rest of the class nodded.

“That’s what you take from that?!” Jon said exasperatedly.

“Well, I mean, about what you said, I actually think you’re good on that front.” Cypress said hesitantly.

“What?”

“Yeah, I, I, I think we should go for it, get our murder on!” Cal exclaimed. They’d been silent nearly the entire time, naturally a shy person and even quieter when scared. Rosie raised an eyebrow, and Tabitha cheered, slinging an arm over their shoulders.

“Yes Cal! You go!” Tabitha high fived them.

“I agree with that.” Martin spoke, surprising Jon.

“How-what?” Jon said incredulously.

“Yes Martin!” Helen cheered, delighted by this new development.

“Th-this isn’t like it was before! We’re not talking about innocent bystanders in cafes here, John; these things are-th-they’re just evil, plain and simple, and right now they’re torturing and tormenting everyone!  If you want to stop them and have the power to, then-then, then yeah, let’s do it, let’s go full Kill Bill!”

“I-I haven’t seen it.” Jon breathed in surprised.

“Oh, Martin, I am so proud of you. Can I come too?” Helen asked ecstatically.

“No.” All of class 108 intoned.

Helen pouted. “So mean! I take it back, you’re no fun at all.”

“Coming from you, I would think that a good thing.” Rosie pointed out as Sydney nodded her agreement.

Helen sighed dramatically. “Fair, fair. I think I’ll take my leave, now. Don’t be a stranger!”

The creaking of the impossible, yellow door signals her exit, and Tabitha’s eyes widen.

“Guys!” she exclaims, face bright with a new, disastrous idea. Katie groans preemptively. “We should do a Tiktok with her!”

-

Regrettably, Tabitha’s idea was immediately shut down, and they soon continued on their path until Jon came to a stop, gritting his teeth.

“We’re here.”

He’d explained that they’d have to cross through multiple nightmares in order to reach the Panopticon, along with the statements he’d have to give. Though Sydney had wondered, she hadn’t asked if he knew the whereabouts of any of her classmates.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know.

No, that was a lie. Above anything else, Tabitha needed knowledge like water. She felt incomplete without it, whatever the cost of that knowledge would be. She would rather mourn a death then be ignorant and happy.

“Are you going to…?” Martin prompted, and Jon nodded, sighing.

“You should all leave while I-”

“No.” Rosie and Tabitha intoned at once, looking at each other surprised.

“Why not?” Martin questioned, wondering why anyone would want to have to listen to that.

“I…,” Rosie breathed, “you said this was about the Buried, right?”

“Y-yes.” Jon stammered, taken aback.

She sighed, tightening her side ponytail as a distraction. She often found playing with her hair gave her comfort.

“I-I can’t explain it. It’s not like I’ll sleep any easier without,” she gestured, “this.” She finished lamely.

Jon and Martin had a silent conversation, and though Jon was apprehensive, he sighed and gestured for her to sit down. He then turned to Tabitha, raising his eyebrow.

“What about you?”

“I need to know.” She said. “I-I can’t be in the dark in a world like this. I just-I need to know.”

Martin nodded, still doubtful. He gestured for the rest of the class, who were staring at the two girls like they were insane, to follow him over to (what appeared to be) a tree.

-

“-Better to keep him buried, neatly away.” Jon finished, and Rosie breathed out shakily. Jon looked at her, really looked, and was confused to find that she looked almost sated.

He turned to Tabitha, and she seemed the same, though in a far more familiar way. He couldn’t quite place it, but something was…off.

“Are you both okay?” They nodded at his question, and Rosie helped Tabitha up.

“Yeah, I don’t know, I just…” Tabitha hesitated, “I feel…weird.”

“Weird?” He intoned, raising an eyebrow in concern. “Not scared?”

“No-I mean, yeah, I’m scared, but…” she shook her head. “Never mind, it’s not important. Hey, why is Katie stabbing a tree?”

-

As it turned out, the tree wasn’t as inanimate as they’d thought, and after being chased around for a bit, Martin got separated from the rest of the class. Not too far; he could still see them in the distance, and they appeared to have killed(?) the tree.

Where did Katie get an axe?

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, when a phone rang out of nowhere. He jumped, surprised.

It was coming from the ground.

He scowled, running his hand through his hair in annoyance, before a clanking noise got his attention from the right. A metal spade just seemed to…appear. Out of nowhere.

“A spade? Really? I mean, isn’t that a little insensitive?” He questioned irritably, sighing to himself.

“Right, so we’re doing this then.”

He began to dig until he reached the phone, yanking it up. He wasn’t surprised to find that there was no landline attaching it to the other caller.

“Hello?” He asked.

“Hello. Is that Martin?”

He cursed inwardly.

“Don’t do that.” He warned.

“Not in the mood for games?” Her voice was decidedly amused.

“You know I’m not.” He told her.

“No fun.”

“Yes, well-look, I’m talking to Annabelle Cane, right?” He said, already knowing the answer to that question.

“You never gave me yours, why should I give you mine?” Martin wondered if she was being this difficult on purpose. Knowing the Web, she probably was.

“Just-what do you want?” He asked tiredly, sighing.

“To help, of course!”

“No. Thank you.” He declined sharply.

“Oh, I think you’ll want to hear this. Marcy Schroeder isn’t dead.”

“W-what?!” He exclaimed.

He didn’t know much about the girl, hadn’t even known her last name before he’d heard Annabelle say it, but he knew enough about what had happened when one of class 108’s first expeditions had wandered into the Web.

“That’s what I said! She’s been kept alive for a reason, though I don’t know what. I suspect it has something to do with the end.”

“Where is she?”

“Now, now, that’s information you’ll have to pay for.”

“With what?”

“Good question. I’ll need to let the situation play out a bit first, and then I’ll know what you can pay me. I’ll keep in touch!”

The line went dead.

“Well, shit.”

-

Rosie was quiet, Tabitha noticed, as she played with her hair languidly, posture tired and face blank with a subtle confusion and scowl. She walked over casually, trying to surprising her from behind, then frowned when Rosie didn’t react.

Tabitha tilted her head, then sat on the log beside her.

“You okay?” She asked, concern blindingly evident in her voice. Rosie didn’t respond.

They sat in a comfortable silence, looking out at the green tinted world in front of them. The watchful eye of the Panopticon looked back, and Tabitha gave it a challenging glare.

“Did I ever tell you about the sinkhole?” Rosie broke the quiet, not even glancing beside her.

“No, I don’t think you did.” Tabitha replied, and was silently disgusted with her own burning hunger for the information Rosie must have been referencing.

Rosie finally turned to Tabitha, chocolatey eyes dull. “When I was in middle school-it must have been fifth or sixth grade-I was caught in a sinkhole. I was buried for two days, under the earth. The Doctor’s didn’t know how I survived, but I did.”

Tabitha’s eyes were wide as Rosie continued her tale.

“The earth…moved. And not in the normal ways. It was unnatural. It tried to choke me, but I didn’t fight back. I just, let it. And I wasn’t afraid. I was,” she spoke sourly, “comforted, by the pressure. It felt like a hug, except, an important one. The earth was hugging me, Tabitha.”

Rosie’s gaze sharpened, and Tabitha’s hunger seemed to increase.

“And I let it. My parents are-were,” she grits, remembering the loss and silently wondering which nightmare they were trapped in, “amazing to me. But they weren’t tactile people by any stretch. And the earth…it was everywhere. And I think I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. A ‘medical marvel,’ that’s what the doctors said at least.

“I’ve never told anyone before, but you of all people I feel like I can tell things. You just,” she gestured absently, “have that feel about you.”

“Are you vibe checking me?” Tabitha joked, trying to ease the tension. Rosie smiled gratefully.

“I suppose I am.” Rosie responded, before growing solemn again. “I think…well, you can figure that out.” She looked to Tabitha, willing her to fill in the blanks.

“You think it was the Buried.” Tabitha reasoned, thinking to herself.

Rosie didn’t need to say anything; they both knew that what happened wasn’t possible by any other explanation.

“…we need to come up with a name for it.” Tabitha spoke to herself, and Rosie raised an eyebrow.

“I may not have been scared of being buried alive, but hearing those words terrifies me.” Rosie deadpanned.

“Aw, Ro, I’m flattered. You say the nicest things.” Tabitha cooed, and they both laughed quietly.

-

“…I have an idea.”

“Oh no.”

“The Great Bondage, the Choking Kink-”

“Okay, I’ve heard enough.”

“Hey! Don’t leave me here! What about the buddy system-”

-

[thewhumperinwhite]

Beast and Blue Eyes, part 5.3

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 // part 5.1 // part 5.2

Feels good to be back in my boy’s head :)

@whumpitywhumpwhump

This continues directly from 5.2 so please read that first!!

TW for: minor character death, On Screen Murder, gore, begging, forced combat, background of slavery/human trafficking.

(also, i always feel a bit at sea wrt what to warn for? so if you ever notice something you’d like specifically mentioned, at the top or in the tags, please drop me a line that would be SO helpful)

(also also: if you know anything about fencing please be gentle with me)

----

Most of the fights were brief, and none of them were glorious.

A musclebound man scoffed at the woman with the scarred face, loudly asked the ring at large if he might not be given a more worthy opponent; when the quartermaster gave the signal to begin, the woman darted forward and buried a knife in the man’s leg above the knee as deep as it would go and sent him down in the dirt, howling.

The teenage boy was already in a headlock, flailing in the dust beneath his much larger opponent. The pretty girl looked at the stage with wide eyes and bashed the old man desperately in the forehead with the hilt of her dagger, with more enthusiasm than skill. The wiry man with cropped hair caught the Healer’s eye and drew his partner into an approximation of a duel, lasting several minutes, apparently to show his skill, and then neatly knocked the weapon from his opponent’s shaking hands and swept his feet from under him.

Ridian stood helplessly, his sword—blunt, and clumsy in his hand after ten years wielding Karya’s balanced blade—hanging uselessly at his side. His opponent was twice his size, bulky from years of work outdoors, and was on his knees at Ridian’s feet, his forehead touching the dirt.

“Please,” the big man was muttering, as though speaking more to the dirt than to Ridian. “Please, my lord, spare me my life.”

Ridian swallowed down his immediate horror at the thought of a man grovelling at his feet. With a glance at the men and woman watching from the stage—he felt a shamed flush creep into his cheeks, in spite of everything—Ridian dropped a hand awkwardly to the man’s shoulder.

“On your feet, my friend, please,” he said, trying to keep his voice low and steady. “You’ve nothing to fear from—”

But at Ridian’s lighest tug, the man curled up even tighter, pressing his forehead into his knees. “No!” he practically wailed, his voice now more panic than supplication. “No, I—I am no threat, my lord, please—”

His voice was far too loud—Ridian watched the sharp-eyed Quartermaster swing easily down from the stage and pace in their direction.

“I know that, sir,” Ridian said, trying in earnest now to pull the man to his feet, ideally before the Quartermaster reached them. “Look, it’s no good begging mercy from me—”

“You were ordered to fight,” the Quartermaster said, standing within easy reach of Ridian and his still-kneeling opponent, who went still as a mouse at the sound of the man’s sharp, steady voice. Then, to Ridian’s astonishment, the big man uncurled from his child’s huddle enough to crawl a pace towards the Quartermaster.

“Please,” the man said, his voice low and desperate and raw in a way that made Ridian’s chest ache with pity. “I am no threat. I shall pay all that I owe, I shall find a way to pay, only please—please, I cannot enter the ring.” The man’s voice was softer, now—a fellow human’s voice, inescapably, in a way that hurt Ridian’s ears more than his cries had. “You must release me, my lord. Please.”

The Quartermaster looked down at the big man. His face remained impassive for a moment, and then softened, just a little.

“Yes, alright,” the Quartermaster said softly, and reached for his blade.

Ridian saw the blow a second before it landed and darted forward; but the sword between the big man’s ribs was expertly placed, and he was dead even before he flopped backwards and made Ridian stumble with his sudden limp weight.

“Oh—fucking hell, Flint,” the Duke griped loudly, over Ridian’s horrified cry. “Save it for the fucking audience, God damn you!”

The Quartermaster wiped his blade clean on the leg of his trousers, his face unreadable. “Bad press to drag a weeping man before the crowds,” he called back. “Someone might think he didn’t wish to be here.”

The Duke grumbled half-heartedly, back on the stage; Flint ignored him, and looked at Ridian instead.

“On your feet, boy,” he said, “and draw your sword.”

Ridian stared up at the man, blood rushing in his ears. Flint didn’t look sorry, though he didn’t look proud, either.

“I will not,” said Ridian. The big man’s head was lolled back over Ridian’s arm; his eyes were open and bottomless. Flint’s eyes were just as empty; Ridian held their gaze, and tightened his hands on the dead man’s arm, to keep from shaking.

Flint’s sword flashed, and Ridian gasped at the sudden slash of fire across his cheek, almost dropping the dead man in the dirt as he stumbled backward, flinging out a hand to keep himself from sprawling in the dirt.

“Next will be your throat,” said Flint, and Ridian stared at him, feeling cold and then suddenly far too warm; he scrambled behind him for the sword he had thrown aside in favor of catching the dead man, who now lay before him, eyes over-reflective in the desert sun.

Ridian stumbled to his feet, trying to keep his hands steady on the hilt. His guard was sloppy; he knew it before Flint took a thoughtful step forward, but he stepped stupidly into Flint’s reach anyway, blunt blade aimed for the Quartermaster’s heart.

Flint slapped the strike away with the flat of his sword, and struck out at Ridian’s shoulder at a wide angle, easily parried, as though intentionally giving Ridian time to step back and catch his breath.

Ridian bit down on the inside of his cheek, hard. Clear enough the man knew how to hold a sword, and Ridian could not kill him by losing his temper, and Ridian had never wanted to kill a man as much as he did now.

Ridian forced his pounding heart to slow, and when he stepped forward again his strikes were no longer reckless.

Flint defended impassively, letting Ridian push him back toward the stage, watching Ridian’s footwork with an assessing eye, and Ridian fought hard not to let that make him angry.

Then, after a few minutes, when the fight should have tipped one way or the other, Flint stepped abruptly back and sheathed his sword.

“List him with the winners,” he called flatly, and turned his back on Ridian, who stood, still armed, too startled to catch his breath.

The Healer’s eyes lit up at the sight of the cut on Ridian’s face—which was bleeding steadily, and must have been doing so the whole time, though he was only now beginning to feel it really sting—and she swung down off the stage to skip excitedly in his direction—but Flint put out a lean arm to stop her before she could get to Ridian.

“No,” Flint said flatly, and half-turned back toward Ridian. “Let him keep that one.” He met Ridian’s eyes, as though trying to impart some message Ridian neither understood nor wished too. “He needs the reminder.”

Ridian stared after him, letting blood drip unheeded from his jaw to his sweat-soaked shirt, until the guards arrived, to lead him back to his cell.

[dailytafsirofquran]

TEFSIR ibn KATHIR

At-Takwir

Revealed in Makkah

What has been narrated about This Surah

Imam Ahmad recorded from Ibn Umar that the Messenger of Allah said,

"Whoever wishes to look at the Day of Judgement as if he is seeing it with his own eyes, then let him read, 

- (When the sun is wound round.) (Surah 

- (When the heaven is cleft asunder) (Surah 82)

- (When the heaven is split asunder) (Surah 84)."

Likewise, At-Tirmidhi has also recorded this Hadith.

Surah Takwir Ayah 1-14

In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful

1 When the sun is Kuwwirat.

2 And when the stars Inkadarat.

3 And when the mountains are made to pass away;

4 And when the pregnant she-camels are neglected;

5 And when the wild beasts are gathered together.

6 And when the seas become as blazing fire.

7 And when the souls are joined with their mates.

8 And when the female infant (Al-Maw'udah) buried alive is questioned (Su'ilat):

9 For what sin was she killed

10 And when the pages are laid open.

11 And when the heaven is Kushitat;

12 And when Hell is Su`irat.

13 And when Paradise is brought near.

14 Every person will know what he has brought.

What will happen on the Day of Judgement, and that is the rolling up of the Sun

Ali bin Abi Talhah reported from Ibn Abbas: When the sun is Kuwwirat.

"This means it will be darkened.''

Al-`Awfi reported from Ibn Abbas; "It will go away.''

Qatadah said, "Its light will go away.''

Sa`id bin Jubayr said, "Kuwwirat means it will sink in.''

Abu Salih said, "Kuwwirat means it will be thrown down.''

At-Takwir means to gather one part of something with another part of it (i.e., folding). From it comes the folding of the turban (Imamah) and the folding of clothes together.

Thus, the meaning of Allah's statement, (Kuwwirat) is that part of it will be folded up into another part of it. Then it will be rolled up and thrown away. When this is done to it, its light will go away.

Al-Bukhari recorded from Abu Hurayrah that the Prophet said,

The sun and the moon will be rolled up on the Day of Judgement.

Al-Bukhari was alone in recording this Hadith and this is his wording of it.

Dispersing the Stars

And when the stars Inkadarat, meaning, when they are scattered.

This is as Allah says,

And when the stars have fallen and scattered. (82:2)

The basis of the word Inkidar is Insibab, which means to be poured out.

Ar-Rabi` bin Anas reported from Abu Al-Aliyah, who reported from Ubayy bin Ka`b that he said, Six signs will take place before the Day of udgement.

• The people will be in their marketplaces when the sun's light will go away.

• When they are in that situation, the stars will be scattered.

• When they are in that situation, the mountains will fall down upon the face of the earth, and the earth will move, quake and be in a state of mixed up confusion.

• So the Jinns will then flee in fright to the humans and the humans will flee to the Jinns.

• The domestic beasts, birds and wild animals will mix together, and they will surge together in a wave (of chaos). 

And when the mountains are made to pass away,

And when the pregnant she camels are neglected;

This means their owners will neglect them.

And when the wild beasts are gathered together.

This means they will be mixed.

And when the seas become as blazing fire.

Then he (Ubayy) went on to say,

"The Jinns will say, `We come to you with news.'

So they will all go to the sea, and it will be a blazing fire. While they are in that state, the earth will be split with one huge crack that will extend from the lowest, seventh earth to the highest, seventh heaven. So while they are in that state, a wind will come that will kill all of them.''

Ibn Jarir recorded this narration with this wording. Concerning Allah's statement And when the mountains are made to pass away; meaning, they will not remain in their places and they will be destroyed. Then the earth will be left as a flat, level plain.

Then Allah says,

And when the pregnant she-camels (`Ishar) are neglected (`Uttilat);

Ikrimah and Mujahid said,

"`Ishar are (pregnant she) camels.''

Mujahid said,

"`Uttilat means abandoned and left.''

Ubayy bin Ka`b and Ad-Dahhak both said,

"Their owners will neglect them.''

Ar-Rabi` bin Khuthaym said,

"They will not be milked or tied up. Their masters will leave them abandoned.''

Ad-Dahhak said,

"They will be left with no one to tend to them.''

And the meaning of all of these statements is similar. What is intended is that the `Ishar is a type of camel. It is actually the best type of camel, and particularly the pregnant females of them when they have reached the tenth month of their pregnancies.

One of them is singularly referred to as `Ushara', and she keeps that name until she gives birth. So the people will be too busy to tend to her, take care of her or benefit from her, after she used to be the most important thing to them. This will be due to what will suddenly overtake them of the great, terrifying and horrible situation.

This is the matter of the Day of Judgement, the coming together of its causes, and the occurrence of those things that will happen before it.

And when the wild beasts are gathered together, meaning, gathered.

This is as Allah says,

There is not a moving creature on earth, nor a bird that flies with its two wings, but are communities like you. We have neglected nothing in the Book, then unto their Lord they shall be gathered. (6:38)

Ibn `Abbas said, "Everything will be gathered, even the flies.''

This statement was recorded by Ibn Abi Hatim.

Allah also says,

And (so did) the birds assembled. (38:19)

meaning, gathered.

The Blazing of the Seas

Allah says,

And when the seas become as blazing fire.

Ibn Jarir recorded from Sa`id bin Al-Musayyib that `Ali said to a Jewish man, "Where is the Hell''

The man said, "The sea.''

Ali then said, "I think he is truthful, as Allah says, And by the seas kindled (Masjur). (52:6) and;

Joining the Souls

Concerning Allah's statement,

And when the souls are joined with their mates.

meaning, every type (of soul) will be gathered with its peer (or mate).

This is as Allah says,

It will be said to the angels: "Assemble those who did wrong, together with their companions (from the devils). (37:22)

Ibn Abi Hatim recorded from An-Nu`man bin Bashir that the Messenger of Allah said, (And When the souls are joined with their mates). Those who are alike.

Every man will be with every group of people who performed the same deeds that he did. This is because Allah says,

And you (all) will be in three groups.

So those on the Right Hand - how (fortunate) will be those on Right Hand!

And those on the Left Hand - how (unfortunate) will be those on the Left Hand!

And those foremost will be foremost. (56: 7-10)

Questioning the Female Infant Who was buried Alive

Allah says,

And when the female infant (Al-Maw'udah) buried alive is questioned: For what sin was she killed?

The majority have recited it as Su'ilat (she is questioned), as it is here.

Al-Maw'udah is the female infant that the people of the pre-Islamic time of ignorance would bury in the dirt due to their hatred of girls.

Therefore, on the Day of Judgement, the female infant will be asked what sin she committed that caused here to be murdered. This will be a means of frightening her murderer. For verily, if the one who was wronged is questioned, what does the wrongdoer (the one who is guilty of the oppression) think then.

Ali bin Abi Talhah reported that Ibn `Abbas said, And when the female infant (Al-Maw'udah) buried alive Su'ilat: "This means that she will ask.''

Abu Ad-Duha made a similar statement when he said,

"She will ask, meaning she will demand restitution for her blood.''

The same has been reported from As-Suddi and Qatadah. Hadiths have been reported concerning the Maw'udah.

Imam Ahmad recorded from A'ishah, who reported from Judamah bint Wahb, the sister of Ukkashah, that she said, "I was in the presence of the Messenger of Allah when he was with some people, and he said, I was about to prohibit sexual relations with breast feeding women, but then I saw that the Romans and the Persians have sexual relations with their women who breast feed their children and it does not harm the children at all. Then they asked him about interruption of sexual intercourse to prevent the male discharge from entering the womb of the woman, and he said, That is the minor infanticide and it is the female infant buried alive (Maw'udah) that will be questioned.''

Muslim, Ibn Majah, Abu Dawud, At-Tirmidhi and An-Nasa'i, all recorded this Hadith as well.

The Atonement for burying Infant Girls Alive

Abdur-Razzaq said that Isra'il informed them from Simak bin Harb, from An-Nu`man bin Bashir, who reported from Umar bin Al-Khattab that he said concerning Allah's statement, And when the female infant buried alive is questioned.

"Qays bin `Asim came to the Messenger of Allah and said, `O Messenger of Allah! Verily, I buried some daughters of mine alive in the period of pre-Islamic ignorance.'

The Messenger of Allah said, Free a slave for each one of them.

Then Qays said, `O Messenger of Allah! Verily, I am an owner of camels.'

The Prophet said, Then sacrifice a camel for each one of them.''

The Distribution of the Pages

Allah says,

And when the pages are laid open.

Ad-Dahhak said,

"Every person will be given his paper in his right hand or in his left hand.''

Qatadah said,

"O Son of Adam!

It (your paper) is written in, then it is rolled up, then it will be distributed to you on the Day of Judgement.

So let each man look at what he himself dictated to be written in his paper.''

Removing the Heavens, Kindling Hellfire, and Paradise Being Brought Near

Allah says,

And when the heaven is Kushitat;

Mujahid said, "It drawns away.''

As-Suddi said, "Stripped off.''

Concerning Allah's statement, And when Hell is Su`irat.

As-Suddi said, "It is heated.''

In reference to Allah's statement, And when Paradise is brought near.

Ad-Dahhak, Abu Malik, Qatadah, and Ar-Rabi` bin Khuthaym, all said,

"This means it will be brought near to its inhabitants.''

Everyone will know what He has brought on the Day of Judgement Concerning

Allah's statement,

Every person will know what he has brought. This is the conclusive response of the previous statements, meaning at the time these matters occur, every soul will know what it has done, and that will be brought forth for it, as Allah says,

On the Day when every person will be confronted with all the good he has done, and all the evil he has done, he will wish that there were a great distance between him and his evil. (3:30)

Allah also says,

On that Day man will be informed of what he sent forward, and what he left behind. (75:13)

[lynelovespopculture]

The Chilling Adventures of Zelda-Chapter 9 The Newest Spellman

CHAPTER 9-THE NEWEST SPELLMAN

AS ZELDA RECOVERS, THE REST OF THE FAMILY GREET THEIR NEWEST MEMBER. COMING SOON!!!!!!!!!!

 By 8 AM, the storm had become nothing more than a drizzle. Hilda Spellman Cerberus had been up all night. Presently, Hilda was pacing back and forth in the Spellman kitchen.  She stepped up to the window and sighed.

“Come on, Zelds, you should be up by now.”

The cry of a baby distracted Hilda so she went to the kitchen island and peeked into the portable crib that held her newborn niece, who was a mere 6 hours old. “Good morning, my little love. Did you enjoy your sleep? Fancy a bottle?”

The babe cooed and Hilda took that as a yes and went to warm up a bottle, which she left on the table to cool. Hilda sighed, her 1st bottle, she thought, Zelda should be doing this, not me. Damn bloody Blackwood!  Hilda put a smile back on her face as she slung the rag over her shoulder and gathered up the baby in her arms.

“There we are,” Hilda settled at the table and gave the newborn her bottle. “Pretty little girl. This house is too quiet. Your Aunt Hilda usually likes a silence house because it’s never quiet around here. But now, I think it’s too quiet around here. Why? Well, you don’t know this yet but we come from a pretty big family. Let’s see now, your mommy, my sister, lives here as well as your daddy and your cousins, of course, Sabrina and Ambrose. I live in town with your Uncle C, but I’m always here so you’ll never miss me. Your older sister Prudence is at the academy and the twins, your other older sister and your brother, well, I’m sure they’ll be home soon.”

The baby finished feeding so Hilda put down the bottle and carefully put the tiny body against her shoulder. Hilda’s eyes drifted back toward the window. Speaking of coming home soon…

“Good job,” Hilda said to her niece after hearing a burp.  “Now that’s we’re done with your breakfast, shall we go relax in the living room?”

Hilda got up, pausing for a moment to return the baby to her basket before changing rooms. Hilda was just putting down the basket down onto a chair, when she heard a noise from outside. Hilda’s heart jumped high with hope.

“Zelda?”

Hilda’s smile quickly turned into a frown. What she saw in the suddenly busy driveway was not her sister, but everyone else. Ambrose and Prudence were holding hands, walking before Harvey’s red truck. Hilda could see Sabrina in the truck’s passenger seat. After the truck, Hilda recognized her husband’s car. The side door was opening and Faustus seemed ready to jump out of the still moving car. With a whimper, Hilda turned away from the window. “The stuff is about to hit the fan. Your Auntie Hilda could be big trouble.” She said to her infant niece.

 The front door opened and the younger Spellmans filed in.

“Aunt Zelda? Auntie Hilda? I’m home,” Sabrina called out.

“So am I,” Ambrose matched his cousin’s tone, making her laugh.

Hilda decided to leave the baby in the sitting room while she rushed into the kitchen to greet the kids. “Oh, my loves! I’m so glad your home safely.” She said honestly and hugged Sabrina as Ambrose and Harvey looked on and Prudence helped herself to a breakfast roll.

The front door opened again and then slammed shut. “Zelda?! Dearest? Are you here?!" Like a flash, Faustus ran across the parlor and up the stairs, taking 2 at a time.

 Hilda was somehow able to step around Sabrina and get to the bottom of the steps. “Um, she’s not up there.”

Hearing his sister-in-law, Faustus turned and went back downstairs. “Then, where is she?”

 “Um”

 Nevertheless, this answer didn’t please Faustus so he sidestepped Hilda and went into the kitchen. “Zelda?”

 Hilda hung her head back and sighed before she sighed and followed him into the other room. “Faustus, I need to tell you something.”

 “Was it false labor again, babe?” Dr. C asked his wife.

 “No, it wasn’t false labor again!” Hilda said loud enough for all the room to hear and they did, for at that moment, all the room fell silent. Great, thought Hilda.

 “Labor?” Stated Ambrose.

 “Aunt Zelda had the baby already?” Asked Sabrina. “When? During the storm?  Is she upstairs?”

 “That’s what I asked.” Said Faustus. “Your Aunt Hilda says she’s not up there.”

 Suddenly everybody started to talk all at once.

 “ENOUGH! ENOUGH!” Hilda found herself yelling above the crowd to be heard. “YOUR AUNT ZELDA IS NOWHERE IN THE HOUSE BECAUSE SHE’S IN THE CAIN PIT!” Hilda by no means expected to scream out the news like this but it just kind of slipped out.

 Sabrina’s lower lip quivered. “Auntie Zelda’s dead?”

 As Hilda went to comfort her, Faustus shook his head. “I knew it.  I just knew it. 3 births, 3 deaths, I’m a jinx. I knew it!” Faustus slammed his hand against the breakfast island.

 “What? Oh no, love,” Hilda explained while rubbing Sabrina’s arm. “The delivery went very well. Both Zelda and the baby came out of it happy and healthy. No, the trouble really started when,” she sighed “Blackwood showed up.”

“Blackwood was here, last night?” This question came from Prudence, who cocked an eyebrow.

 “Yes.” Hilda nodded.

 “If it’s not 3 bothersome ghosts, it’s him,” Faustus muttered.

 “You see, I was in here, cleaning the baby when the door opened and he came in,” Hilda continued. “He’s the one who created the storm. He’d hoped we would all be trapped here so he could kill us all 1 by 1.”

 “That’s why the weather got so out of control in just under an hour.” Commented Harvey.

 “Yes,” Hilda nodded and went back to her story. “Anyway, last night when I first saw him at the door, I thought he was you, Faustus, then I called Dr. C and found out that Faustus still at the bookstore. I ran to go help Zelda but I was too late.”

 “So that’s what that 2nd call was about last night.” Dr. C nodded. It all made sense to him now.

 Faustus looked sharply at Dr. C. “You never said anything about 2nd phone call from Hilda!”

 Dr. C shrugged. “I had just gotten you back in the store and got you calmed down. Besides, if there was a problem, I thought Hilda would call back.”

 “Good point,” Faustus said before turning to his sister-in-law. “Why didn’t you call back?”  Faustus demanded.

 “Because there’s wasn’t a problem.”

 That’s when Faustus’s jaw dropped. “There’s wasn’t a problem?! My Zelda is dead and you don’t think it’s a problem?!”

 “I only meant that I have everything under control,” Hilda explained, “I buried Zelda in the Cain pit as soon I could, as soon as the thunder and lightning stopped.”

 “What time was that, Auntie?” asked Ambrose.

 “About 2:30.”

“2:30!” Faustus exploded. “It’s almost 9!”

 “So, this is Zelda’s 1st  time in that pit thingy, right? It would take hours to work. Unlike Hilda, whose down there all the time and can pop up in minutes.”  Said Dr. C.

 Faustus shook his head. “No, it works the other way around. It’s going on nearly 7 hours now, something must be wrong.”

 “Look, I’m been expecting Zelda since before you all got home,” Hilda admitted. “Normally, I would be worried about the hours too, but you forget the 2 things that can tire a witch’s body out the most is returning from the dead and giving birth and Zelda has done both in the last 12 hours.”

Once again, the group all started to talk at once again until Sabrina put out a hand. “Hey! Hey, listen! I think I hear something.”

 Everyone did listen and because everything was quiet, they all heard the door opening, 2 light footsteps and the sound of something crashing to the ground. All of the family rushed to the front lobby. There, curled up on its side, was a body, not more than 2 feet away from the still opened front door. The body was filthy, covered head to toe in dirt, muck and dried blood. Although, dirty, lifeless hair covered up most of the face, everyone knew exactly who it was.

 “Aunt Zelda!”

 “Zelds!

 “Dearest!”

 Harvey and Dr. C hung back as Hilda, Faustus, Ambrose, Sabrina and Prudence knelt around the body.

 “Is she alive?”  Prudence asked.  

 Hilda, meanwhile, put 2 fingers on Zelda’s neck and smiled. “Yes, she’s alive. Her pulse is quite normal. I just think she’s exhausted.”

 Zelda gave a low, deep moan of protest as the others turned her over. Hilda moved so she was able to place Zelda’s head in her lap. “Welcome back, sister.”

 It took all of Zelda’s strength just to open her eyes and say only 2 words. “My baby?”

 “Don’t worry, Zelds,” Hilda assured her, “The baby’s fine. She’s probably napping by the fire right now.”

 Faustus looked up. “She? It’s a girl?”

 Hilda nodded, smiling. “Yes, she is,” Hilda turned back to her sister. “Okay, Zelds, time to get you into a tub and then it’s off to bed with you to get some rest.”

 “Let’s use my bathroom,” Suggested Sabrina. “My tub is the biggest so is the room so we won’t be tripping over each other.”

 “Excellent idea, Sabrina.” Hilda smiled.

 Not caring at all about the dirt, Faustus threw his wife’s limp arms around his neck and put his arm under her knees as he lifted her up and carried her upstairs  and into Sabrina’s room.i Prudence followed him, as did Sabrina, after she said a brief goodbye to Harvey, who was late for meeting Roz. Ambrose agreed to watch the baby.

“Wait,” Dr C. grabbed his wife’s arm while she tried to get upstairs. “If there was no one here to protect you, why didn’t Blackwood kill you and the baby?”

 “I’m safer in that kitchen than anywhere else on earth.” Hilda had to chuckle when Dr. C looked utterly confused. Hilda kissed her husband. “I’ll explain later. Meanwhile, can you be a love and fetch a fresh nightgown for Zelda?”

 Even with 4 people bathing her, it took over an hour to get Zelda completely clean. Prudence saw to the lift side of Zelda, Sabrina, the right. Faustus washed his wife’s hair and face where Hilda worked on Zelda’s feet and legs. Sabrina was worried. She had never seen her beloved aunt so weak. Zelda just moaned and groaned and every now and then, Zelda would open her eyes but only for a few seconds at a time. Once the cleaning was finally done, they drained the tub of water, they used big towels to dry her off. After working with the others to put the new nightgown on, Faustus carried his wife to their bedroom and settled Zelda into bed. She was asleep in moments.

“She looks so pale,” Stated Sabrina with a worried frown.

 “She’s be fine after a few hours of rest and quiet.” Assured Hilda.

 “Sleep well, sister Zelda.” Prudence whispered as she patted her stepmother’s hand.

 Sabrina said nothing, but she kissed her aunt’s cheek before following Prudence out of the room. Faustus kissed his wife twice. Once deeply on the forehead, and again, lightly on the lips. When Hilda stepped in the hallway, she found that the girls had gone downstairs but Faustus was in the corner, muttering to himself. Hilda went to him.

 “Hey, you okay?”

 Faustus turned. “I’m so mad at myself. I always told Zelda that I would protect her and our child. But where was I when they needed me the most?  I wasn’t even home!”

 Hilda shook her head. “You can’t blame yourself, love. There was a nasty storm that made it impossible to travel anywhere, remember?”

 “So what?  You got here.” Faustus pointed out.

 “Yes, but I teleported.”

 “I could have teleported too, if I still had my powers! I thought I was doing the right and noble thing asking Lucifer to take my magic but living like a mortal only got the woman I love killed. Damn it, Zelda was talking about getting me my magic back. Why didn’t I listen? Why am I constantly failing?”

 “You’re being way too rough on yourself. Zelda will be fine. What you need now is a distraction. Let’s go met your newest daughter.”

  They went downstairs together. Hilda went straight to the living room and picked up the baby. “Hello again, little one. I have your father here with me." Hilda   looked up and couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “Faustus?! Faustus, what…are you crying?”

 He nodded as the silent tears streamed down his face. “I was afraid it was a girl. As you know, Zelda and I chose not to know the gender before the birth.”

Hilda thought she understood. She rubbed his arm. “Hey, it’s okay. We can’t always control our feelings. If you’re disappointed that she’s a girl today, you’ll get over it.”

 Faustus shook his head and smiled. “That’s just it, Hilda. I thought I would be disappointed but truthfully, I’m not. These are tears of joy. I guess I really am changing.”

 Hilda smiled. “You are. You’re a good man, Faustus Spellman.”

 “Faustus Spellman.” He repeated.  He loved the way that sounded. Meanwhile, the baby cooed in Hilda’s arms. “Can I hold her?” asked Faustus.

 Hilda giggled. “Of course, she’s yours, after all.”

 Faustus smiled down at the child as he gathered his daughter into his arms. “Look at her. You know, when I was younger, and I thought about marrying Zelda, I also used to dream of the children we would have together, both girls and boys. I swear to Hecate, this is exactly who I dreamt of. She’s so aware and alert for a newborn.”

 Hilda nodded. “Yes, I noticed that too. Have you and Zelda settled on a name for her yet?”

 “Hmm? Oh yes, we have, but I rather wait until Zelda wakes up before we tell the family.”

 Hilda understood this. “Sure, we waited months to discover her gender, a few more hours to learn the name won’t kill us.”

 “Kill” Faustus sighed.

 “What’s wrong?”

 “Nothing,” Faustus sighed.  “The birth of my daughter is truly a happy event but I would be lying if I wasn’t worried about Blackwood. I mean, to him, this baby is just another Spellman to slaughter.”

 That is when Hilda smiled. “Maybe not. Last night, I managed to put a silence spell on the babe and put her out of sight before Blackwood came for me. When he asked about the baby, I lied and said it was a stillbirth. Blackwood may be completely bonkers but even he can’t kill what he doesn’t think exists.”

 Faustus kissed his sister-in-law’s cheek.  “Hilda, you’re a genius.”

 “So, I’ve been told.”

 “Father? Sister Hilda? What should we do about lunch?” Prudence entered the room.

Hilda smiled at the girl. “Let me handle that, dear.” Hilda moved past her and into the kitchen.

Faustus gave his daughter a huge smile. “Prudence! Come here and meet your newest sister.”

Prudence did come closer and smiled at her baby sister. “Oh, she’s so beautiful!”

Faustus put an arm around the shoulders of his oldest daughter and smiled at her as the other arm held the baby. “Just like you.”

Embolden by her father’s compliment, Prudence wore a playful smile. “Are you sure the babe is yours, Father? She looks so much like sister Zelda; one may wonder if she performed a cloning spell.”

Faustus laughed out loud. “It did cross my mind once or twice.” Then he stopped laughing. “Oh no. Someone feels wet!”

“I take her to get change.” Prudence offered, reaching for the babe.

“No, no, no, no.” Her father refused. “Thank you for offering but I am a father of 4 now. It’s seriously time I learn how to care for children. Besides, I remember you once told me, rather colorfully, that you are not a wet nurse.” Prudence and Faustus shared 1 last smile before he started upstairs.

 Yes, a newborn baby meant much excitement within the Spellman house.  There was no shortage of hands who wanted to hold her, play with her and cuddle her. She was surrounded by so much love that Faustus thought nothing of leaving his daughter in the kitchen with all her relatives when Ambrose pulled him aside after lunch.

“There something that auntie Hilda said this morning that I can’t get off my mind.” Ambrose explained as the 2 men made their way to the attic.

“What’s that?”

“How she said that she mistook Blackwood for you. That’s mean he must have waltzed in here like he owned the place. I was thinking maybe we could make his arrogance work for us.”

“Interesting.  Tell me more.”

“While it’s true that we had zero luck in finding Blackwood’s current hideout,” as he spoke, Ambrose combed the shelves of his personal library, searching for just the right book.  “However, we can make sure he never darkens our door again.” He picked the right book, flipping to the correct page and put it on the desk and pointed. “We can put a magic lock on the front door. But there is a catch.”

Of course, Faustus thought. There is always a catch. “What is it?”

“This magical lock spell has a blood seal. So if we do this spell, the blood seal would be for Spellman blood meaning that the lock will protect me and my aunts but it would actually lock out any non-blood members of this family like Prudence, you, and even” Ambrose sighed heavily, “Sabrina.”

“May I see this spell?” Faustus asked and Ambrose handed him the book.  After studying the text further, Faustus smiled. “Well, this has a simple fix to it. Sabrina and I will have to spell our house keys and Prudence will have to knock. Excellent work, Ambrose.”

“Thank you, uncle Faustus.” The older man raised his eyebrow and Ambrose felt instantly embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from. It just slipped out.”

“No, don’t apologize. I guess I was just taken aback by how right that sounded.”

After a few more minutes, Faustus left and as Ambrose put the book away, a folder fell off the desk. As he thumped through it, he realized that it was Zelda’s manifesto and was impressed. “aunt Z really might have something here.”

 Meanwhile, on the 2nd floor, Faustus was thinking. Ambrose had the right idea trying to protect the house from Blackwood but what if he could do better? What if he could destroy Blackwood forever?  Faustus went directly to his bedroom and opened the bottom drawer of his nightstand. Faustus smiled when he saw the book. This book was so rare many thought it didn’t exist but working in a bookstore had its perks. Even with Dr. C’s help, it took months to find. Spell books written by warlocks and witches were a dime a dozen, but what Faustus held in his hands was the only known spell book written by a mortal in the world.  Surely, spells written by a mortal could be performed by a mortal or a warlock that gave up his powers. Faustus sighed as he stood up. He went over to the other side of the room where Zelda lay. True, no one had heard a peep out of Zelda since she was put to bed, hours before. Faustus was glad to note that Zelda’s coloring looked much better. He rubbed her back, stroked her hair and softly kissed her. “Rest now, my beauty, and maybe, if this works, when you awake, all our children will be safe under this roof and your murderer shall be no more!” He whispered before kissing her again. Then, book in hand, Faustus left the room and went downstairs. His heart melted as he turned toward the living room. Prudence was asleep on the couch; the blanket was barely on her and her sister was in her basket on the coffee table. Faustus had to smile. Last night’s storm had been so wild and loud that it had been impossible to sleep so most people in the house were taking naps. Faustus had seen Sabrina and Hilda lying down in Sabrina’s room before he came down and even now, he could hear Dr. C light snoring from where he had fallen asleep at the kitchen table. Faustus went further into the room and tucked in Prudence and turning, he smiled down at the still awake baby. “Be sure to watch out for your mother, your sister, your aunt, your uncle and your cousins for me. Daddy will be back.” Faustus kissed his fingers and lightly touched his daughter’s head.

 The 1st spell Faustus tried was called the circle of 9. Before he could even try to perform the spell, Faustus had to build 9 circles, each 1 bigger and wider than the last, out of sticks. It took 2 hours just to set up. Faustus knelt down to start the spell just as the sun was setting.

“Circle of 9, circle of 9, draw him here, bring back what is mine. Be it children, be it voice, be it body or be it mind. Circle of 9, circle of 9, draw him here, bring back what is mine!” Faustus waited a few minutes before he said the whole spell again, then he did a 3rd time, a 4th, and still nothing. Faustus moved on to another spell. Before he knew it, Faustus had performed 6 different spells from the book and still he found himself alone in the now pitch-black woods. Faustus now was leaning by a tree, flipping through the book with the flashlight that he, thank Hecate, remembered to bring with him. As he looked up and saw a shadow. If the shadow was real or a fragment of Faustus’s tired mind, he didn’t know but he was beyond caring.

“ BLACKWOOD!” Faustus yelled. “IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, YOU’RE DONE! I HOPE YOU HAD FUN LAST NIGHT BECAUSE IT WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WILL EVER, EVER GET NEAR THE SPELLMANS! YOU SEE, THE NIGHT I TOOK THEIR NAME, I ALSO TOOK ON THE FAMILY AS MY OWN AND NO ONE HURTS MY FAMILY!  NO MATTER HOW FAR YOU RUN AND WHERE YOU GO, I WILL FIND YOU AND I WILL TAKE MY TWINS BACK. THEN I WILL END YOU! I KNOW YOU HAVE THE MARK OF CAIN, BUT THAT ONLY MEANS I HAVE TO THINK OF A FATE WORSE THAN DEATH. I KNOW YOU DON’T SEE ME A THREAT BUT YOU SHOULD BECAUSE THE NEXT TIME WE MEET, I’LL HAVE MY MAGIC BACK!”

Once he was done yelling at the trees like a lunatic, a defeated and frustrated Faustus walked home. Getting his magic back was something had been on the back of his mind all day. True, the thought of getting all his power back made Faustus feel just as anxious and nervous as ever. Yet, if it meant he could better protect the family, he would rise above it.

  “So, that’s the problem with Nick.”

Faustus followed the sound of Sabrina’s voice to the living room where he saw that the teen sitting cross legged in a chair by the fire, giving the baby her bottle.

“Hi,” she greeted him when she saw Faustus. “Where did you disappear to? We’re starting to get worried and you missed dinner.”

“I’m not hungry,” Faustus dismissed as he sat down across from Sabrina. “Why are you speaking of Nicholas to the baby for?”

Embarrassed, Sabrina reddened. “It’s nothing, really. I was just telling the baby that Nick invited me to a dance party at Dorian Grey’s next Saturday. I thought it was date, which has its own problems, then I find out that it’s a group thing and now, I’m more confused than ever.” Sabrina sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spill out everything like that. It’s just that Ambrose and Salem are both sick to death, hearing about my love life, aunt Hilda is still in newlywed mode where all love is rosy and perfect and aunt Z is…not…up…yet.” Sabrina sighed.

Faustus’s heart dropped. He had hoped Zelda had wakened up by now.

The baby cooed in the silence as if to lighten the mood. Sabrina smiled down at the baby. “Turns out that my new little cousin here is a great listener.”

“But she a little quiet about giving out advice.”  Faustus smiled. “You mentioned that dating Nicholas would be a problem. Do you not want to be with him romantically anymore?”

Sabrina sighed deeply. “I just don’t know anymore. Last year, when he came back from hell, I wanted Nick to trust me and lean on me the way, well, the way you leaned on Zelda after you spilt from the curse, but he didn’t.  He completely shut me out and when he broke up with me, it really hurt. Hecate knows that candle spell didn’t work at all.”

“It never does,” Faustus muttered. “I could have opened my own candle shop when I tried to get over your aunt Zelda.”

“But time did help me heal,” Sabrina continued, “I’m been happy being single these past months and I don’t know if I want to fall down the same down the rabbit hole again.”

“Sabrina, I think you should go to the party, as a group, and have fun. If and when you should be with master Nicholas again, you’ll know when it feels right.”

Sabrina smiled. “Thanks for the advice, Mr. Blackwood.”

“Sabrina, I think it’s time you started to calling me Faustus.”

She smiled. “Okay, Faustus. I think your daughter has finished her meal.”

Faustus stood up. “I take the bottle for you. You 2 ladies look too comfortable to be disturbed.”

 Right before Faustus entered the kitchen, he could hear Dr. C’s voice.

“Hilda, you’ve been looking at the clock a lot in the past hour. What’s wrong, my love?”

There were tears in Hilda’s eyes. “Zelda should be up by now. I don’t like talking about it because it’s very rare but if a witch is still asleep 13 hours after a night in the Cain pit, they’re not going to wake up at all. My sister has a half hour left or that beautiful baby girl will grow up without her mother.”

 Hearing this, Faustus didn’t cry or yell or even entered the kitchen. Instead, he placed the baby bottle on a nearby side table and ran upstairs.  Faustus entered his bedroom to see that Zelda was still in bed and still asleep.

“Zelda, wake up,” Nothing happened so he went to her and gently shook her. “Zelda, it’s time to wake up. I know you’re tired and you have every reason to be, but please, my heart, just open your stunning eyes and talk to me for 10 minutes.” He shook her again and still got nothing. So, Faustus knelt down and took one of Zelda’s hands in both of his. “What was it you told me the day I tried to commit suicide? That I couldn’t leave you? Well, I’m going to say it right back to you, Zelda. You can’t leave me! And it just not me. Everyone needs you. The coven needs its high priestess. I still believe that you’re going to be the 1st witch ordained by the council. The academy needs its headmistress and there are not enough words to express how much this family needs you. Hilda is downstairs right now crying that she may never see you again. All the children need you, Zelda.  Granted, she would never admit it, but I know my daughter and Prudence will be just as heartbroken as Ambrose or Sabrina if you-“ Faustus couldn’t even say it, he just shook his head and continued with his next thought. “The twins, when they return, will certainly need you as well as our newborn girl. As for me, oh Zelda, my dearest darling, I need you most of all. I don’t care if that selfish, it’s true. I know I failed you twice today when I wasn’t here for you when Blackwood killed you and I failed when I couldn’t draw him or the twins to me in the woods. But I am getting better at being a Spellman, I am. Ambrose called me uncle today and I just came from a heart to heart with Sabrina but you have to wake up to see it.” There was still silence and Faustus sighed. “I’ve buried 2 mothers of my children, but I didn’t mourn Madeline or Constance because I didn’t love them. I’ve only ever loved you and the thought of losing you is more than I can bear.” Faustus put his head on the mattress and started to sob.

Suddenly, he felt a hand going through his hair. “Faustus Spellman, did you really think you can get rid of me that easily?”

Faustus looked up sharply. “Zelda! Dearest! You’re awake!” Overcome with joy, Faustus, still on his knees, he grabbed and kissed Zelda. It was only mid-way through the kiss that Faustus realized how rough he was being and let go immediately.  “Oh! I’m sorry!”

Zelda chuckled. “Don’t be, I’m fine.”

Faustus gently tucked a hair behind Zelda’s ear. “No,” he whispered to his wife. “You’re more than fine, you’re beautiful and I’ve finally made a decision. I want to be baptized into the Order of Hecate.”

Zelda smiled. “Wonderful. When will the next full moon be?”

“Tomorrow night, I think.”

Zelda smiled. “Perfect. That way we can do your baptism and the presenting in the same night. Speaking of which, have you met our daughter?”

Faustus nodded. “I have and she looks exactly like the most beautiful witch in the world.”

“But I’m her mother. Shouldn’t she look like me?” Zelda smiled.

Faustus laughed. “You’re up for 15 seconds and you’re already telling jokes? No wonder I love you so much.”

“I’ve only seen the baby once. Last night before Hilda brought her down to the kitchen.”

“Well, we can fix that right now.” Faustus kissed her hand before he went to the doorway. “Everyone!” Faustus called out. “Zelda’s up! Someone bring up the baby please.”

That all it took. The only reason Faustus didn’t invite everyone in the room was because he didn’t want Zelda to get overwhelmed but as soon as he announced that Zelda was awake, everyone came running. First, Ambrose and Prudence came down from the attic, followed closely by Sabrina. There were many hugs, tears of joy and happy words of welcome. When Hilda, who was carrying her niece, appeared at the door, Zelda sat up straighter in bed and held out her arms for her baby.

“Hello precious.  It’s mommy,” Zelda purred to her infant. “Did you enjoy your day getting to know our family?”

“When will we know her name?” Wondered Ambrose.

Zelda looked up at her husband, who now sat beside her. “You didn’t tell them her name yet?”

Faustus kissed her brow. “I wanted to wait for you, my love.”

“Everyone,” Zelda addressed the room. “Faustus and I would like to officially introduce our daughter, Cordelia Luna Spellman.”

  In Faustus’s mind, Zelda looked damn hot in a bathing suit, especially after just given birth 2 days ago. It was the next evening and he knew he shouldn’t be lusting over a high priestess at his own baptism, even if she was his wife but he couldn’t help himself. Still, he tried his best to focus on her words.

“We gather in the wood tonight to welcome a new member to the order of Hecate.”

Zelda amazed him. She fallen asleep about an hour after waking and then awoke again at 8 this morning like nothing had ever happened. They had spent most of the afternoon going over his baptism.  The details were straightforward; they had spent more time arguing about the coven. A warlock’s baptism was a coven event, they both knew it, but still, Faustus would have preferred it to be just the family.  Yes, he knew he had the coven’s forgiveness, but seeing them caused him bad memories and made him uneasy. He only gave in when Zelda correctly pointed out that if they weren’t invited and found out about the baptism later, the coven could accuse Faustus of keeping secrets so, he invited them.

Meanwhile, Zelda continued. “The church of night demanded that we all be baptized in blood and sign our names over to a dark lord who demanded we serve him and only him. Hecate does not desire to be our lord. As the goddess who first discovered magic and passed it on to her children, Hecate rightly sees herself as our dark mother, and like a mother, any mother, doesn’t want see harm come to her children. Therefore, a baptism done in Hecate’s name is different from what we have witness before. There will be no blood, there will be no sighing of names in any books. All we will use is the cool, refreshing water of the river while it is bathe in the light of a full moon, which is both the start and end phrase of a witch’s life.”

After delivering her sermon, Zelda took off her robe, revealing that bathing suit that drove Faustus crazy. Zelda waded in the river as Faustus disrobed and joined her in the water.

“Faustus Spellman, son of night, do you come here tonight of your own free will? To be baptized, to be a part of this coven and a servant of Hecate, the 3 in 1?”

“I do.” Faustus said clearly.

“Please kneel,” Faustus did so and Zelda marked his forehead with water.

“Will you disregard any vows you made to any lesser gods and any books that may bear your name.”

“I will.”

“Finally, will you accept Hecate and her beloved Aeete, who is the male 3 in 1, the lad, the father and the old man, into your heart?”

“I will.”

Zelda knelt down. “I will now emerge you in the water. If it pleases Hecate to accept your devotions, you will come out of the water, you will be reborn with your magic born anew.” Zelda explained.

Faustus held his nose before Zelda dunked him under water. A second later, Faustus came up to the surface. Then, holding hands, Faustus and Zelda stood up and together walked out of the river. To see if he really had his magic back, Faustus waved his hand and baby Cordelia, who was in Hilda’s arms, floated through the air and landed in Zelda’s arms.

Faustus smiled. “I think it’s time for the presenting.”

 The presenting was a centuries old ceremony where a couple present their newborn on the stone altar in the woods, to give thanks for a healthy birth and pray to watch over the babe. It was tradition for the presenting to take place the same night of the birth, which is why most witches give birth in the woods. Also, for many years the prayers were offered up to the dark lord. Cordelia was only the 3rd baby in the coven, presented to Hecate. Zelda and Faustus stood off to the side while Hilda, fulfilling her role as night mother, carried the baby to the clearing.

“Hecate, we thank thee for Cordelia’s safe birth and pray for her continued health and happiness.” As soon as Hilda laid Cordelia on the stone altar, an odd thing happened. A thick white glow of white light, not unlike a laser, coming from the moon, beamed down on Cordelia and only Cordelia. The light came so suddenly that Hilda jumped back.

“My baby!” Shrieked Zelda. The light was gone when the witch moved to pick up her daughter. Hilda move closer saw on Cordelia’s tiny left wrist was a half-moon birthmark. A birthmark that hadn’t been there 2 minutes before.

“What’s that?” Asked Hilda. The sisters stared at each other in confusion. Of course, none of the Spellmans knew of the great destiny that awaited their newest member.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Until the Stars Are All Alight–Chapter 7: The Mending of the Broken Kingdom

Hello, and welcome to my entry for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2019!  This au combines two story ideas I’ve wanted to explore for a while. 1. What if CS existed in a Tolkien-esque, LOTR world? 2. What would have happened if it was Killian rather than Neal that Emma ran into when she was stealing the bug?  Huge thank you to my beta, @blackwidownat2814, to @clockadile for the amazing story and chapter art, to @kmomof4 and @cssns for putting this event together, and to the ladies in the CSSNS chat who have helped me think through this story.  If all goes well, I should be posting every Tuesday, and the story will have approximately 20 chapters plus the prologue and epilogue.

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Summary: CS Lord of the Rings au: When Emma Swan steals a yellow Volkswagen Beetle, she has no idea it will lead her toward an adventure filled with danger and intrigue, sacrifice and a love stronger than anything she could imagine.  Tasked with bringing the Savior home, the elf, Killian Jones of Misthaven travels to the Land Without Magic.  Can he convince Emma to fulfill her destiny before the Dark One regains power and takes over all of the Enchanted Forest?

Rating:  T

Word Count: 6781

Other Chapters: (prologue) (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (epilogue)

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The Enchanted Forest, many years ago

They buried Ruth Nolan beside the giant oak that sat near the river.  The place was beautiful and peaceful, and David thought his mother would have whiled away many afternoons here had she been able to live in the safe house as planned.

Snow White took her husband’s hand, threading their fingers and trying in whatever way she could to give him strength as his mother’s body was laid to rest as the last rays of the evening sun began to disappear over the riverbank.  She saw him wipe away tears as Lancelot said a few words over the grave and then shoveled the earth over her make-shift casket.

His heart was broken, she knew, she could feel it, but he also seemed to be strangely at peace.   For his sake she was glad.

When the last shovel of dirt had been replaced and the afternoon gave way to twilight, it was time to decide on their next course of action.

“I am most heartily sorry for your loss,” Lancelot said in a low voice as he put a supportive hand on David’s shoulder.  “I wish I’d arrived in time to save her.”

David wiped away another tear.  “There was nothing you could have done; nothing any of us could have done.  Given the state we found her in, I suspect the brigands timed their attack on my mother to coincide with their attack on myself.  Thank you all the same for the offer of your help.”

“You are most welcome,” Lancelot said with a bow.

David took a deep breath and let it out slowly, looking down at his mother’s final resting place before nodding and looking back at Lancelot, determination in his eyes.  “We made a deal, and I intend to fulfill my part of it.  Shall we begin our journey to Camelot?  Gods willing, we’ll be more successful in our quest there.”

“Indeed,” Lancelot said. “Any outcome save the categorical defeat of Neal Baelfire and the salvation of my kingdom is unthinkable to me.  That being said, it is a little more than a day’s journey to the castle of Camelot, and we’ll not do my people any favors by arriving exhausted.  If we can secure shelter, I propose we rest for the night and start fresh for our journey in the morning.  It is, after all, your wedding night.  You needn’t spend it trudging through the forest with a knight.”

Snow felt her cheeks redden at the mention of her wedding night, and her nerves flared to life.  As the princess of Misthaven, she’d lived a rather sheltered life.  While she’d entertained a few chaste kisses from suitors, she’d never shared a bed with a man, and the thought that she’d do so tonight with her husband, her true love, was somehow exciting, intoxicating and terrifying all at once.

She felt David squeeze her hand, and she looked up to see a look of pure love and gentleness on his face.  She knew what he was thinking, could feel it in his gaze.

We’ve no need to proceed any further than you’re comfortable tonight.  I’m content to wait until you’re ready.

Her heart turned over at his chivalry and care for her.  His reassurances calmed the last shreds of her apprehensions.  She loved this man and she wanted, ached, to be with him in every way a wife was with her husband.

Lancelot gently cleared his throat, and Snow started, realizing she’d yet to reply to his previous statement.

“Of course,” she said, voice slightly breathless.  “My family’s summer castle is little more than a mile from here.  We keep but a bare bones staff at the castle when we’re not there, but they will be sufficient to prepare us a repast and bed us down for the night.”

They took their time walking to the summer palace, Snow and David ahead, while Lancelot walked several paces behind to allow the newlyweds a bit of privacy.

They’d only just walked across the drawbridge and entered the inner bailey, when Snow was greeted by a most welcome surprise--her lady’s maid Johanna stood smiling before her.  Gently extracting herself from her husband’s hand, Snow rushed forward, enveloping the matronly woman in a hug.

“How are you here?” Snow asked, laughing.  “How did you know to come to me?”

“Merlin,” Johanna said simply.  “He arrived at the castle this afternoon, spouting vague warnings about the dagger and the Dark One, and other such nonsense, and then he sent me here, saying you might have need of me tonight.”

“We could have managed if need be,” Snow said, “but I’m glad you’re here with us!”

The events of the afternoon and the events that led to Lancelot joining their company were explained over a light dinner, and before Snow knew it, Johanna was whisking her away to prepare her for bed.

“The wedding night is quite a pivotal moment for a young bride,” Johanna said with a knowing grin.  “I expect you’ve some nerves about tonight?”

Snow’s heart pounded at the reminder of what was about to occur.  “Yes, nerves, but anticipation as well.”

Johanna nodded.  “Do you have any questions about what to expect?”

Snow felt her face flame again.  “No.  Mother explained it all to me.”

Johanna gave her a quick hug.  “Don’t you worry, my lamb.  Your Charming is a good man, and I’ve never seen such love in someone’s eyes as I saw in his when he looked at you.  I’ve no doubt you will have many blissfully happy years together.  Enjoy this time with him, put all cares aside and simply delight in each other.”

There was a quick tap at the door, and then David was there looking a bit unsure of himself.  At the sight of him, all her nerves fled, and she was left with nothing but her love and desire for him.  She opened her arms, and he rushed to her as Johanna quietly left the chamber, closing the door behind her.

Taking her face in his hands, David kissed her, his lips on hers both gentle and passionate.  Leading her to the chaise before the fire, they shared several more long, drugging kisses, before pulling back for air.

“You have no idea what it’s meant to have you with me today Snow,” he said, voice soft and tender.  “This day has been filled with so many emotions, so many life-changing moments, and through it all, having you beside me has kept me grounded.”

Snow leaned forward and kissed him gently before looking into his eyes.  “I have loved you from the moment I clapped eyes on you.”

“And I will love you to my last breath,” David said, returning her kiss with another long, slow one of his own. 

“Could we perhaps delay that last breath for several more years?” Snow asked with a laugh.  “I’ve rather had enough of you dying or almost dying to last me several decades.”

David laughed with her, caressing her face.  “Now that I have you as my wife,” he murmured, “I have no intention of going into the light anytime soon.”

Snow pulled him into a hug.  “I’m so sorry about your mother, Charming.  If there was anything I could have done--”

“I know,” he reassured, “but it was her time.  Snow, I’ve seen what awaits us on the other side, and it’s beautiful.  I’ve come to realize that death isn’t something to fear.  Instead it’s merely the next step into a new life.  I know my mother’s at peace, and that’s all I can ask.”

“Even so, her absence will weigh heavy on your heart.”

A single tear tracked its way down his cheek, and Snow leaned forward and kissed it away.  “You’re right,” he said, his voice somewhat choked, “but I have faith that I will see her again one day.”

They were silent for a moment, holding each other close, taking comfort from each other.  Finally, David got to his feet and offered her his hand.  She took it, letting him lead her over to the massive four-poster bed in the center of the room.

“But it is our wedding night.  I think it’s time we put aside topics of sadness and death.  I have far more important things to discuss with you.”

She grinned up at him, feeling her anticipation rise at the look in his eyes.  “You wish to talk about it, Charming?  That sounds rather...unfulfilling.”

He surged forward, kissing her passionately, letting the momentum propel them forward until they lay together on the bed, him resting on his elbows on either side of her head as he kissed his way down the column of her neck.  “Who said the conversation had to be verbal?” he asked between kisses.

She giggled, taking his face in her hands and pulling him down for another long kiss as she worked at the buttons on his shirt.  “Who indeed?”

And then there were no more words exchanged until long into the night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lancelot paced the stone corridor before David and Snow’s bedroom the next morning just as the first rays of the sun were starting to paint the sky.  He didn’t wish to disturb the newlyweds but he was antsy at the thought of any further delay.  It had been more than a week since he’d been banished from court, and he shuddered to think what Baelfire might have done to his kingdom in that time.

What he might have done to Guinevere...well that was something Lancelot refused to even consider, lest the fear drive him mad.  He needed his wits about him if he was to come to her rescue.

Outside a nearby window, a zealous whippoorwill saluted the morning, and it startled Lancelot into action.  He didn’t wish to disturb Snow and David, but he could not wait another moment.  He knocked firmly on the door and waited as patiently as he could as he heard rustling sounds.  

David opened the door, his clothing of the night before hastily thrown on.  “Is something wrong?  Have the attackers returned?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Lancelot hastened to reassure.  “I apologize for my intrusion, but I find myself filled with anxiety about the state of my kingdom this morning.  I’d hoped to start our journey as early as possible.”

“Of course,”  David said. “Give us a quarter of an hour to prepare ourselves for the day, and we’ll meet you in the great hall for a quick breakfast, and then we’ll be on our way.”

True to their word, within fifteen minutes, David and Snow walked hand in hand into the hall and sat side by side before the light meal of bread and cheese and fruit a servant set before them.  Lancelot smiled at the joy and love that radiated from the two of them in the afterglow of their wedding night.

The thought brought him a slight pang as well, though.  He knew he’d never experience a similar state of bliss.  The woman he loved was not his for the taking.

No matter.  So long as he could save her from the very real danger that beset her, as long as he could be near her and guard her from other future danger, he would be content.

Breakfast was a quick affair, and then the three of them were off, laden with Lammas bread for the journey, before the sunrise was complete.

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As they made their way toward the castle the next morning, the three of them tossed around various ideas about how they should approach their less-than-ideal situation, but no plan they came up with seemed sufficient to the challenges ahead.  The uncomfortable reality was that they were sadly outmanned.  

One thing was for sure; they’d fail before they even began if they attempted to enter outright with Lancelot in tow.  Their only hope was to maintain the element of surprise.  To that end, they decided to split up.

Quietly so as to attract as little attention as possible, Lancelot made his way to the back entrance of the outer bailey.  He knew it was Sir Galahad’s post in the early mornings, and Galahad was one of the handful of knights he knew with absolute certainty was still loyal to the king as he should be and to Camelot.

It was apparent almost immediately, however, that something was off.  When he approached the door, the first thing Lancelot noticed was a strange shimmering in the air like nothing he’d ever seen.  The second was the fact that Sir Percival was looking at him with wide, almost vacant eyes.

“Who goes there?” Sir Percival barked out when he saw motion on his periphery.

“Lancelot,” he called out, stepping into the light and making himself known.  “Please!  I must enter with all haste!”

Sir Percival turned his disconcertingly vacant stare Lancelot’s way.  “You have been banished,” he said in a voice entirely devoid of emotion.  “You are no longer welcome here.  Leave these premises immediately or you will be executed.”

Lancelot narrowed his eyes.  “What’s wrong?   Why are you acting in this way?”

Sir Percival merely repeated himself, all in the same dispassionate, emotion-less tone. 

Something was very, very wrong here, but it was clear their plan as it stood would need to be altered.  If Neal had gotten even to Sir Percival, the most valiant knight of the Round Table, there would be no sneaking in for Lancelot.

He’d just rounded the castle and started back to where Snow and Charming waited in the woods when one of the most welcome sights he’d ever seen met  his eyes.  Merlin himself strode toward them, staff in hand.

Look for me on the third day.

Finally, things were beginning to look up.

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Merlin walked determinedly toward the newlyweds and the disgraced knight in the woods.  After leaving the small band three days hence, he’d gone to Misthaven straight away.  He’d first determined that Excalibur was indeed safely tucked away under a glamour spell where he’d left it.  That alone made him breathe easier.  Whatever it was the Dark One was planning with his son, it could be dealt with as long as the sword was still secure.

Afterwards, Merlin retrieved his staff and then made his way to the Dark One’s prison to ensure their mortal enemy himself was still safely locked away.  When he was satisfied all was secure, he made his way to Camelot.

Merlin looked down at his staff as he walked the remaining steps toward his companions.  To one who knew no better, it looked like nothing extraordinary.  It was an old, gnarled stick with nothing to recommend it.

But Merlin knew better, for this staff had been fashioned of the wood of the very tree where he’d been imprisoned for hundreds of years before breaking free at Arthur’s coronation.  This tree had not only imprisoned him, it had absorbed his magic through all the lonely years of his captivity.  As such, it was perfectly suited as a lightning rod of sorts, a way to focus his magic and strengthen its effects.  He didn’t know what he would find at Camelot, but he knew their success here was of such great importance he could leave nothing to chance.

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Neal smiled to himself as he sat upon a throne to the king’s left.  His father would reward him handsomely.  He’d been more successful than he could have possibly dreamed going into this venture.  Not only had he subdued the king and all his remaining knights, but thanks to a bit of quick thinking on his part, Camelot itself was officially his for the taking.

Neal patted the small pouch attached to his waist, grateful for his foresight in gathering it’s contents before he’d approached Camelot.  It was working it’s magic better than he could have possibly imagined.

Glancing over at the woman seated to Arthur’s right, Neal nearly rubbed his hands together in glee.  It had worked its magic on Guinevere as well.  She looked on him with empty, vacant eyes, all resistance effectively drained from her.  All things considered, he’d prefer her to look on him with the kind of love and devotion she’d bestowed on Lancelot, but he’d take what he could get.  At least this way, she’d no longer resist him.

With her will to rebuff his advances taken away, he would finally, finally get everything he wanted.  Tonight would be the night.  Tonight he’d go to her chambers and make her his.

The porter interrupted his lurid musings by opening the great hall door.

“Your highness,” the man said, addressing Arthur, “Princess Snow White of Misthaven, her Prince Consort David Nolan, and the sorcerer Merlin to see you.”

Neal frowned.  He had no idea what these people were doing here, but he was absolutely certain it could bode nothing good for him or his plan.

“They are not welcome here,” Neal said, leaning over to speak quietly into Arthur’s ear. “Merlin is but a herald of woe.”

The king nodded before turning back to the guests.  “You are not welcome here.”

Merlin, who led the small group, frowned, looking with suspicious eyes from one member of the royal assembly to another.  “Oh Arthur, how you’ve disappointed me.”

“You are not welcome here,” Arthur merely repeated.

Merlin narrowed his eyes further, sending a contemptuous glare at Neal.  “The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Arthur, king.”

“Why should I welcome you, Merlin of Misthaven?”

“A just question, my liege,” Neal said, nodding sycophantically, watching Arthur carefully.

The king still looked fully compliant, but now was not the time to take chances.  Neal surreptitiously took a pinch of the sand in his bag and tossed it toward Arthur.  He knew he’d made a mistake as soon as he saw Merlin’s eyes widen in understanding.  He must take control of this situation now, before Merlin was able to gain a foothold.

“Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear,” Neal said, stepping toward the newcomers.  “Ill news is an ill guest.”

“Be silent!” Merlin growled.  “Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth! I have not come to this hall to bandy crooked words with a witless worm.”

Neal stepped back in horror as Merlin opened his cloak and pulled forth his staff.

“His staff!” he said to the knights guarding the hall.  “I told you to take his staff if he should ever appear!”

Chaos broke out around the hall.  Arthur’s knights stepping up to apprehend the newcomers, and Snow and David pulling out their weapons to defend against the attack.  Neal watched in consternation as Sir Percival attacked Snow, and David plunged his sword through the knight’s heart.

Through it all, Merlin advanced, unperturbed by the chaos around him.  “Arthur, son of Uther, too long have you sat in the shadows. I release you from this spell.”

At the sound of Merlin’s words, the fighting around the hall stopped, and all seemed to watch with baited breath as Merlin raised his staff, closed his eyes, and pointed it toward Arthur.

“No!” Neal screamed as slowly but surely long tendrils of the Sands of Avalon that he’d been using to control the kingdom seeped from the king, from Queen Guinevere, indeed from everyone around the hall.

Neal leaped forward to stop Merlin...somehow, he wasn’t entirely sure how...but before he had the chance, his momentum was stopped with Sir Lancelot’s fist making solid contact with his face.  When had Lancelot arrived?! Neal groaned as he fell to the ground and then felt Lancelot’s boot on his chest.  “I would stay down if I were you.”

Merlin continued until the last grain of the sands had been sucked from Camelot.  Neal watched in horror as everyone shook their heads, coming out of their stupefaction.

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For a moment the hall was silent as royals and knights and servants alike tried to make sense of what had happened to them.

Arthur shook his head and then glared at Neal.  “Seize him!”

The shout was enough to break the hall free of their stupor and Lancelot watched as everything seemed to happen at once--Guinevere getting to her feet and looking around, as though for a weapon, his fellow knights dragging Neal Baelfire to his feet, Neal himself breaking free, Arthur advancing on him, the others in the hall rushing toward the drama with howls of rage.

“Silence!” Merlin bellowed, striking his staff against the floor, producing an energy field that seemed to stop everyone in their tracks.

Merlin pointed toward Neal with his staff.  “Neal Baelfire, son of Rumplestiltskin, your reign of terror is at an end.”

Neal leaned back against the wall smirking up at the wizard.  “Yeah?  Your threats don’t frighten me, Merlin.  As a hero, I can be assured you won’t kill me.”

Merlin’s face barely changed, but a shiver went down Lancelot’s spine at the intensity of his loathing as he looked upon the Dark One’s son.  It was as though Merlin looked upon a disgusting insect that it was beneath him even to crush under his boot.

Slowly, Merlin raised his staff toward Neal, and the Dark One’s son went suddenly rigid as invisible bands wrapped themselves around his body from shoulder to toe.

“You are correct,” Merlin said in a soft, cold voice.  “I won’t kill you this day, but within the hour I suspect you’ll wish I had.”

The first tendrils of fear reached Neal’s eyes.  “Wh-what are you going to do to me?”

“Only what you deserve,” Merlin said, advancing on him.  “You will be reunited with your father in his impregnable cell, and there you will remain.”

At that, all color drained from Neal’s face.

“I suspect the Dark One will be most displeased when he hears of your failure, and you’ll have the rest of your miserable life to feel the effects of that displeasure.”

“No!” Neal shrieked, fighting uselessly against the magical bands that held him as Merlin pouffed them away in a cloud of purple smoke, all that remained, Neal’s bloody poinard as it clattered to the stone floor.

Neal’s bloody poinard? Why was it covered in blood?!

The hall had fallen silent once more as Merlin transported Neal to his justly deserved punishment, but suddenly Arthur slunk to the floor, and Lancelot looked on in horror as a crimson stain spread in an ever expanding circle from his chest.  Lancelot leaped forward to catch his king and friend, but Guinevere reached him first, cradling his body to her chest.

“I….was not….good,” Arthur said haltingly, looking up at his wife.

“Don’t try to speak,” she replied as tears started in her eyes and began pouring down her face.

Arthur looked from Guinevere to Lancelot and then back again.  “Weak…” he continued.  “Not...ruler Camelot...deserved.”

“Your majesty,” Lancelot said, “there is still time…”

“No,” Arthur said forcefully.  “Feel life...draining...not much time.”

Guinevere held him more tightly to her, rocking him slightly.

“Not...husband you...deserved, but...loved you...to last breath,” Arthur said, weakly raising his hand.  Guinevere took it in hers, bringing it to her lips.

“I love you too, Arthur,” she said in a voice thick with tears.  “I always have.”

Arthur smiled weakly, and then turned to look at Lancelot.  “Take care of her.”

Lancelot looked up at the woman he loved more than his own life and then back at his dying king.  “You have my word, your majesty.  No harm will come to her while there is yet breath in my body.”

Arthur nodded and then glanced at both of them.  “Rule...together.  Mend...broken kingdom.  Better than I.”

Arthur closed his eyes and breathed his last.

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Land Without Magic, present day

Killian pushed aside the curtain and peered out the window of his apartment for the fifth time in as many minutes.  His heart plummeted as yet again he saw nothing but an empty street, conspicuously free of Swan’s (well...his, if one was to split hairs) yellow bug.

He began pacing as scenarios began playing themselves out in his mind, each one more horrible and unimaginable as the next.  He knew she could take care of herself; he knew she could, and he trusted her to do so, but she’d hardly been thinking clearly when she left the apartment tonight, and if the bastard did anything to her in a moment of inattention….

The possibility was unimaginable.

Killian turned on the television and mindlessly flipped through channels looking for something, anything, to take his mind off of how late his roommate was in returning from her “date”.

Two weeks ago, Emma had returned to the apartment, smile wider than he’d ever seen her don and he’d smiled back at her; couldn’t have helped it if he wanted to.  Her joy was infectious, and it was one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen.

“Tell me, Swan,” he said, patting the seat on the couch next to him, “what has you looking like the cat that caught the canary?”

She plopped down next to him, bouncing a bit in her exuberance.  “Killian, I got a job!”

He reached over and gave her a quick one-armed hug.  “Well then, congratulations are in order!  How exactly did this come about?”

She’d gone on to explain (animatedly) about her encounter with Smee, her search for his missing beanie, Tiny’s tip, and her very successful meeting with Cleo.

“So…” he said carefully, “you’ll be a bounty hunter?”

“Bail bondsman--woman--whatever, but same basic idea,” she said.  “Cleo bails people out, and when they don’t pay their bail, well that’s when I step in, hunt them down, and drag their sorry asses back to jail.”

“It sounds...dangerous,” he said, striving to make his voice neutral.  He knew she was a tough lass.  He knew she was fully capable of handling herself in whatever situation she might find herself in, but the profession was bound to come with injuries and threats.  He hated to think of her suffering them.

She narrowed her eyes.  He must have been less successful as he’d hoped at covering his trepidation.

“Killian, I can take care of myself,” she said, leaning away from him and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Oh aye,” he agreed readily, nodding.  “I know you can love.  I’ve yet to see you fail at anything you’ve set your mind to.”

That clearly mollified her, if the way her eyes softened was any indication.  “If you believe in me, then why did you sound like you’d rather I did anything else as a profession.”

He took a deep breath and let it out.  “I do believe in you, Emma, and the miscreants of this fair burg don’t stand a chance against you.  I suppose I just care about you and would hate to see you get hurt.”

She softened even further at that and even reached over to take his hand.  “Don’t worry, Killian, I’m not going to take any chances or do anything stupid.  I’ll practice all the safety precautions and keep pepper spray with me and all of that.”

With an effort of will, he cleared the worry from his face, even if he couldn’t completely banish it from his mind.  With her enthusiasm and excitement so great, how could he possibly do anything but support her?

“Well, never mind that now,” he said, getting to his feet and offering her his hand to help her do the same.  “As I said, congratulations are in order.  I have a bottle of rum perfect for the occasion.”

Emma had thrown herself into her work after that, enjoying the chase, enjoying working out the mystery of where the bail jumper might have gone and how best to apprehend him.  She’d only just begun, relatively speaking, but already she was building a name for herself

He was proud of her.  She was truly one of the most incredible people he’d ever met in his long, long life.

And if there’d ever been any question before, now it was gone.  He was totally, completely and irreversibly in love with Emma Swan.  What that meant for his mission, for the welfare of his home and people, he didn’t know.  He was no less committed to bringing her home to fulfill her destiny, but he’d be by her side every step of the way.

By all accounts, Emma was incredible at her new job.  She was tough, she was smart, and she had excellent instincts.  She could also read people better than just about anyone he’d ever met.

“I’m pretty good at telling when someone is lying to me,” she’d told him one day.  She’d called it her “superpower”.

To say he didn’t feel any anxiety when she was out chasing the worst of the worst miscreants in the city would have been a lie, but his faith in her abilities mitigated that anxiety to a large extent.

At least it had until tonight.

He’d returned from work to see her sitting ramrod straight before her laptop, brows furrowed and a fierce scowl on her face.

“Having trouble locating your skp, Swan?” he’d asked as he walked into the kitchen for a bottle of water.

She looked over at him, and her eyes blazed with barely concealed fury.  “Not at all,” she said.  “This absolute son of a bitch was almost too easy to track down.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

She stood up and started pacing.  “This total douche has a wife and family he just walked out on--but not before racking up some major gambling debt and a handful of domestic abuse charges.”

Killian winced.  

“I met with his family earlier, and it killed me, Killian,” she said, and for a brief moment her fury morphed into sadness.  “The wife bailed him out, and then he ran again.  The kids just want their daddy home.  You have no idea how much I look forward to kicking his ass.”

“Swan,” he said slowly, feeling a sliver of dread burrow into his chest, “I understand the sentiment, believe me I do.  A man who would mistreat and abandon his family in such a way must necessarily hit close to home for you…”

She stopped before him, crossing her arms and glaring.  “This isn’t about me, Killian!  This is about his family.”

“Aye,” he said, placing his hands on her upper arms, “it is about the arse you’re chasing, but clearly it’s bringing up a lot of emotions in you as well.”

She shook herself free of his touch and started pacing again.  “What if it is?  Am I not allowed to have emotions?”

Killian blew out his breath in frustration.  “Of course you are, but you’ll do no one any good going off half cocked!  If you let your anger rule you, you’ll make mistakes, and those mistakes could get you hurt or killed!”

“Let’s get one thing straight, Killian Jones,” she said, getting in his face.  “This is my life, my career, and I decide how to live it!”

“I know that!” he said, his voice raising in spite of himself.  “I’m not asking you to stop living your life, I’m asking you to be smart about it!”

She looked like she wanted to say more, but after a moment she brushed past him.  “Whatever.  I have to go get ready for my date with the asshole.”

“Your...date?”

“Yeah, she said from the bathroom where she’d opened her makeup back and started rummaging around inside.  “Cleo’s been suggesting I start trying out a honey trap.  You know, get douches to take me on dates, then nail them.  And not in the fun way.”

This was a bad idea; Killian knew it was, but what could he do?  As she said it was her life, and she had every right to live it as she chose.

His unease increased all the more when she walked out of her room half an hour later in one of the sexiest red dresses he’d ever seen, her hair hair curled, her make up flawless, and her stiletto heels the stuff of men’s fevered dreams.

“I’d ask you how I look,” she smirked, “but judging by the way your eyes are about to pop out of your head, I’d say I achieved the affect I was going for.”

He cleared his throat, trying valiantly to keep from salivating at the look of her. “Aye, no man in his right might would be able to take his eyes off of you in that little number, Swan.”

“That’s the idea,” she said, grabbing her purse and checking to make sure her pepper spray was in place.  “Well, gotta go if I’m going to meet him on time.”

Killian tried one more time.  “Perhaps you should take someone with you, Swan,” he said hesitantly.  “If not me, perhaps Smee or that Tiny fellow you mentioned.  Just for safety.”

Her anger blazed again as she rounded on him.  “Yeah, because nothing says hot date like bringing along your roommate or one of his friends.”

“I’m just saying…”

“I know what you’re saying,” she said, yanking the apartment door open and stepping out, “but I can take care of myself.  The only one who saves me is me.”

“Just….be careful,” he said, letting a little of his fear creep into his voice.

The fear seemed to be what did it.  She turned back to him, her face softer.  “I will, Killian. I promise.”

And then she was gone.

That was five hours ago.  Her “date” should have been long over, her skip safely behind bars (likely with quite the shiner), and her at home decompressing with him over a drink or two.

Perhaps she’d decided to stop at the Rabbit Hole for that drink to cool down after collaring the skip?

Perhaps, but his gut was telling him that wasn’t the case.  His gut was telling him the same thing it had been telling him since she got home tonight.  Her emotions put her in a vulnerable state and something went terribly wrong.

He was just on the point of throwing on his leather jacket and going out to look for her when he finally, finally heard the key in the lock.  He felt the relief wash over him.  She was okay; she was…

His relief lasted only until he caught sight of her.  She looked, for lack of a better description, like hell.  She held her shoes in her hand, one of which was missing it’s stiletto heel.  Her dress was torn and covered with flecks of mud.  She had a split lip and her blackening eye was rapidly swelling shut.

When Killian noticed her holding onto her side and limping as she made her way over the threshold, he sprang into action.  He leaped forward, putting her arm around his shoulders and taking her weight as he eased her over to the sofa.

“Swan, what happened?”

She looked chagrined.  “Well, cliff’s notes, things didn’t go exactly as planned, but I did end up collaring my skip.  Emma Swan always gets her man.”

“Did he...did he do this to you?” Killian felt the anger bubbling up.  He could kill this man with his bare hands.

She looked down, playing with the frayed end of the rip in her dress.  “You were right Killian.  I should have listened to you,” she said.  “His situation, well it brought up a lot of my old crap, and I went in hot.  Maybe if I’d stopped to calm down a little, I’d have seen the signs before he ran; maybe I would have been more prepared for it when he attacked me.”

Killian took a deep breath, willing his own anger down.  He could deal with it later.  For now, his priority was, must be, taking care of Emma.  “Swan,” he started.  Her eyes stayed trained on her dress.  “Swan, look at me.”

After a moment, she complied, and the look in her eyes broke Killian’s heart.  She looked like a lost little girl, but what was worse, she looked guilty.

“Emma, this was not your fault,” he said gently but firmly.  “I don’t know how things progressed tonight, but you are not to blame for that absolute piece of human excrement’s attack on you.  No one deserves that; least of all you.”

The tears welled in her eyes, and after a moment she gave him a tentative smile.

And then promptly grimaced, hand going to her split lip, which was beginning to bleed again.  Killian frowned.  “We can talk all about what happened if you like, but first, let’s get you taken care of, yeah?”

She tried to wave him off.  “It’s okay, Killian,” she said.  “I’ve had worse.  I can take care of it.”

“Nonsense, love,” he said, propping her swelling ankle on a pillow on the coffee table, and then moving toward his first aid kit under the kitchen sink.  “What are roommates, what are friends for?”

She smiled again, more carefully this time to avoid aggravating her injuries.  Killian gathered all the medical supplies he could find, filled an ice bag for her ankle, and then filled a small basin with warm water.  He felt so helpless.  Back home, he could have healed her wounds in a second with his elven magic, but here, here in the land without magic he was relegated to salves and creams and bandages.

Killian gently laid the ice pack against her rapidly purpling ankle and then handed her a couple aspirin and a water bottle.  As he gently began to dab at her split lip, he asked if she’d like to talk about what happened.

She blew out a deep breath.  “So our ‘date’ was going well until I told him what I was really doing there.  He flipped the table. Spilled my wine all over my dress, by the way.  Anyway, I followed him back to his car, which I’d already had a boot put on.  That should have been the end of it, but when I got to his car he started saying all this stuff about how I wouldn’t know anything about family anyway and no one cared about me and all of that.”

Killian felt his heart break for her.

“And,” she shrugged, “I don’t know.  I guess it just made me feel not good enough all of the sudden.  Suddenly, I was that little girl in the foster system that no family wanted.  It was just enough to break my attention, and he got out of the car and punched me and then started running.  I followed, of course, and I caught him, but when I tackled him to the ground, my heel broke and my ankle turned, and then he was hitting me again and kicking me in the side.  Hope none of my ribs are broken.”

“Swan…” he said, not even sure what he wanted to say, just needing to comfort.  He cupped her head in his hand, letting the silky strands of blonde hair slip through his fingers.  She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a moment, before continuing.

“Eventually I was able to land a few good punches myself and then kind of stab him with the broken stiletto, and it distracted him enough that I was able to slap cuffs on him and call the cops.”

“And the police simply let you go home in this state?” Killian asked.  “They didn’t take you to the hospital?  Swan, you need care!”

“They offered,” she said, “but I waved them off.  It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

Killian put a bandage on a small cut against her temple.  “Perhaps, but you shouldn’t have to!  Swan, you must promise me to be more careful!”

She furrowed her brow, at least as much as she could with her various contusions.  “Why does it even matter to you, Killian?  I’m just your roommate.  Why do you care?”

“Why do I care?” he gritted out, “because I lo--” he stopped himself abruptly, closing his eyes, willing himself to get a hold of his emotions.  “Because you’re bloody brilliant, amazing, Emma Swan. Because it’s all become so much. Because if anything were to happen to you, I’d--”

He stopped again.  She waited a beat, and then leaned forward, one finger beneath his chin, raising his face until he met her eyes.  “You’d what, Killian?”

“I’d be lost,” he nearly whispered.  “You may not be used to mattering to anyone, love, but you matter to me.”

For the space of several heartbeats they remained still, merely looking at each other, and then she leaned forward, gently, tentatively taking his lips with her own. 

                                                                                  NEXT CHAPTER -->

[mollymaymaukme]

Mollymauk x Reader: Beyond the Grave, Part 12

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11,   Part 12, Part 13

The pavilion looks no different from how it had but there was an foul acrid smell that hung in the air. The kind of smell that comes after a particularly powerful magical outburst. The goddess’ are lounging on their thrones though the Wildmother is a little more stiff in manner than the Raven Queen.

You look to your matron and her gaze shifts to the side, refusing to meet your gaze. The pitiful thumping organ in your chest turns as cold as stone. All hope that you had clung to abandoning you.

The lingering warmth of the Wildmother is slowly fading from your form. Vax does not need to assist you in kneeling before the deities this time, but you do huff in exertion as you raise yourself back up.

“It’s always a delightful day when I get to see Melora’s true form.” The Raven Queen is nearly giddy and your heart sinks further.

“Let us get on with it Raven dear.” Melora says through a clenched smile.

“As you wish.” A pouting sigh before she turns her gaze upon you. “We have decided I shall get one soul, but not a complete one, half of yours” she points a talon towards your chest “And half of Mollymauk Tealeaf’s.” 

That pesky little shard of hope impales you once again. Half of each soul. . .so you will both still remain with half to live? “What does that mean for me and Molly?” Your voice betraying you with its hopeful tone.

Melora chooses to cut in before the Raven Queen can answer “We are not entirely sure my child. Nothing exactly like this has been done before. Half of you both will exist in this plane while the other part will be with you in the mortal realm.” Your upturned lips drop at her words and she quickly back tracks “But you will both be alive and back to your mortal vessels before the sun sets.” She assures.

Silence falls over the chamber as you mull over her words. You shoot Vax a look out of the corner of your eye but you are only met by a small shrug. Not even he knows entirely what is going on.

The Wildmother rises and walks over to you, her dress skimming across the stone in soft sounds, she cups your cheeks so that you will meet her gaze. “My child, You are stronger than you know, let nothing quench the fire within you, no matter what happens.”

The Raven Queen’s talons tap against her throne “Hurry along Melora. Can’t retrieve my prize with you here. Don’t want you trying any tricks.” You watch as the Wild Mothers eyes swirl grey before they calm back to an aqua blue that ripples gently.

“Don’t rush a goodbye.” Her words cold before she speaks to you in a softer tone “I’m afraid we must part ways. I am sorry that I could not get you both back in one piece.” You raise your hands to hold onto the ones cupping your cheeks and the action makes her smile but something painful flicks through her eyes before it disappears.

“Mother. . .” It is hard to find the words but after a moment of struggle you say, “Thank you. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“I know.” She takes a moment of silence to think on her next words before finally deciding upon something “I made you to care and love deeply, because I knew it would make you a strong person who is capable of doing the tasks that most could not undergo.” She laughs softly “I should have predicted this.” A sigh “But not even the divine can be all knowing.”

She pulls you into an embrace of warm sunshine and honeysuckle as she strokes your hair “Remember that I am never far my sweet child.” The Wildmother presses a kiss to your forehead before releasing you. Your gaze clings to her until she disappears into a shimmering pool of light.

With her absence the cold of the Raven Queen’s court furiously wraps around you and sinks into your being. All of the energy and strength you had also abandons you in her absence. The sudden change sending your crashing to your hands and knees.

The Raven Queen’s chuckling makes you lift your to heavy head to look up at her. “Oh what a beautiful lie life continuously spins.” You can visualize the sharp grin that could have been upon her face “But oh, sweet child” she mocks “there is nothing but the cold truth of death here.”

Her words do not make any sense and she does not allow you to puzzle over them long. “It is pleasing to have something fall in my favor after so long. . .I detest those who think they can cheat death.”

You feel like a bug, there on your knees, laying prone before her throne. The Raven Queen rises and clicks her talons at her champion “Bring her to her feet Vax’ildan.”

Vax stiffens and quickly follows the order. Arms are looped underneath yours to drag you upwards, his hands crossing behind your neck to straighten you. Nothing like his friendly support earlier. No. This hold is intended to restrain.

A looming white masked face fills your vision and your body goes numb at what she says next, “Oh, sweet child, no one can cheat death. Only prolong its coming. . .at a price.” Talons drag down the side of your face in a crude impression of a caress “I am loathe to only retrieve half of your souls, but I am interested to see how fully a life is lived without a full one. . .” She trails off with a hum.

The talons glide down your jaw, then the column of your throat, before coming to rest across your barely beating heart. Sharp tips gently drumming over your chest. “His life, like all other mortals, was always so tragically shorter than your own. . .now it’s less than a fraction of that.”

As your body goes numb you feel Vax’s fingers flex behind your neck in sympathy. “Don’t let it be believed that I am without kindness. I tell you this so that you might savor whatever time you have left with him.” Her voice sharp with malice and her head tilting to the side in the impish impression of a grin.

“Did. . .Did she know?” If the Raven Queen had not been right there she might not have heard the whispered question.

“Nothing mortal lives long without its full soul. She is well aware of that fact. However you, an immortal created by the divine, are an exception. Though I do not know how your body will react it is assured that you will carry on.” A sighed chuckle “To bad she did not have the heart to erase your memories.”

Her last words are drowned out by your screech of agony as her talons bury themself in your chest.

-------------------

Caduceus sat cross legged with his back to the willow, head hanging heavy in sleep. Yasha had recently gotten up to return their dinner bowls back inside the temple. Lingering with the others as she soothed their confusion and worry for the rest of their party members.

Molly had also fallen asleep. He was curled into a ball right next you, one of your arms gently grasped by both of his. The sky begining to bleed orange as sunset grew near. A large raven watched over the sleeping beneath it and when the sun had just dipped below the horizon it made its move.

With a soft shuffle of feathers it swoops down to land on your chest that had long been barren of any dirt. In a swift motion it had raked three jagged scratches into your chest which spurred your eyes to fly open as a scream choked on sludge escapes you.

Molly and Caduceus are both jared from sleep and it takes only a moment for Caduceus to swat at the bird with his staff. He misses as the bird takes flight again, circling over their heads threateningly before it dives down. Massive talons wrapping around one of Molly’s horns and knocking him to the ground with a victorious screech.

The bird makes a sharp turn as it descends upon the tiefling. Molly shouts in pain as the raven gouges into his flesh just as it had yours before it takes to the air in retreat. Blood dripping off either of its talons as it disappears into the grey twilight of the forest.

Knocked on his back and vision swimming with vertigo it takes a moment for Molly to recover. Then he springs upright, fighting off another hit of dizziness, as he remembers what had originally awoken him. Turning his head quick enough to give him whiplash he sees the firbolg helping you to your hands and knees as you vomit wave after wave of bracken sludge.

The shouts had alerted the rest of the Nein and they rounded the corner to see Molly kneeling beside you, trembling hands holding back your hair and stroking over your cheeks feverently.

Your body shudders as you dry heave for long minutes before you begin to settle. Shaking arms giving way beneath you and you might have landed into the puddle of black vomit if Molly had not wrapped his arms around your shoulders. So instead you fall into him, laying sideways in his lap as you shiver violently.

Hurried footsteps and short “Excuse me”s were followed by Nila helping to wrap a blanket around you. You rolled over to curl closer into Molly’s warmth, face pressed into his abdomen as you shuddered with such overwhelming relief.

You didn’t realize you were sobbing until Molly picks you up so that your head is buried in the crook of his neck “Hush love. It’s alright. I’m here.” warm hands soothing over your back as his tail wraps about your waist.

“Molly” It is a pitiful and hoarse croak. But it catches his attention nonetheless. You barely manage to move a body that is to heavy to possibly be your own to sit up and look at him face to face. Your hands that were discolored with cold and lack of circulation go to cup his cheeks that were wet with his own tears.

He smiles at you, lopsided and full of sharp teeth, ruby eyes crinkling as more tears stream down his face. “Y/n” he answers.

Your own lips tug upwards. You have to rapidly blink your eyes so that you might see him through the blur. You give up and close your eyes as you lean your forehead against his, “Don’t you ever leave me again Mollymauk Tealeaf.” It was meant to sound scolding, but it came out ragged with emotion and disuse.

He chuckles, a hand coming up to stroke your cheek, “Never.” He promises pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before pulling back.

@lizziepopanime​, @spirithorse100, @rednighthood, @delpyelp, @high-king-margo-hanson, @notstinglesstoo, @what-the-fuck-is-gender

[masterserris]

FUNERAL FOR A MAGICIAN     Pt. 11 Who Will Know

Grave robbers!

There shall be hell to pay for robbing his grave; disturbing his rest and peace. The magician’s fury explodes forth now!  But how?! No one will like the answer.

Characters: Neo Mysterio (Quentin Beck), Doc Ock (Otto Octavius), Spider-Man (Peter Parker), Alexandria Beck (Alex), Maria Beck, Sandman (Flint Marko), Chameleon

THE WARNINGS APPLY TO THIS CHAPTER.

Warnings: Explicit gore and death, violence, mentions of past abuse, mental illness, physical illness, cancer

^These warnings are here for the story as a whole. If you get invested by reading a less graphic chapter, then be prepared for the warnings above in other parts!!

“If I die in this world, who will know something of me? 

I am lost, no-one knows, there’s no trace of my yearning.

But I must carry on, nothing worse can befall. 

All my fears, all my tears, tell my heart, there’s a hole. 

I wear a void, not even hope. A downward slope, is all I see.

As long as breath comes from my mouth, I may yet stand the slightest chance. 

A shaft of light is all I need to cease the darkness killing me.”

-“Who Will Know” Shin Godzilla, 2016

That dismal day of the funeral was relatively uneventful, even though the remaining members of the sinister six had attended alongside their hated enemy. The Avengers perhaps wished to apprehend them, however Otto was once more several steps ahead of them. A quick teleportation device was all that was needed to evade their would-be captors after the service was over. 

However gaudy it was, Beck had finally gotten that statue of himself he joked about having once he became famous. Was it in poor taste? Perhaps, perhaps not. Alexandria Beck paid no mind to it. All she could do at the service was stare at the ground where her brother laid six feet under, feeling only the hallow void that often lingered in their family like a curse. 

Maria Beck was quiet. She was a well mannered child; she did not really get what was going on. The last two Becks left immediately after the funeral. There was nothing in New York they could ever want or stay for. Not anymore. 

                                               -----------------------

A week has passed since he was buried. Otto was always the mistrustful type. Something to do with consistent bullying and betrayals throughout his life. That being said, was it so unheard of to keep cameras around the grave site of your recently deceased friend? For Otto, it wasn’t. 

The alarm was raised and Octavius was roused from a rather unhappy slumber. Chameleon was already up. Someone had dared to disturb Beck’s rest? There would be hell to pay indeed. Wasting no time, the pair of them left immediately to confront the grave robbers.

                                               ----------------------

It had recently rained, loosening up the soil. The group in question were known body thieves. They often targeted mutants for their DNA. 

Graverobber 1: “Hhhff... they buried this guy... really well...! The soil is packed.”

Graverobber 2: “Should we haul off the statue, too? It has bronze and gold plating. Could be worth a good amount once it’s stripped down.”

Graverobber 3: “We could, but I’d rather get the body more than anything. Do you know how much we could sell the Slayer of a Herald of Galactus for? I also heard they guy had undergone a super soldier serum prototype procedure. We could sell part of him to Hydra for sure. Maybe just his arm.”

Grave robber 2: “The armor is one of a kind. AIM wants the teleporter and quantum matter displacer for 500 million dollars.”

Graverobber 1: “Holy shit, I know you said millions but daaamn... hffff almost there.... I can see part of the coffin... I hope it won’t smell too bad...”

Graverobber 3: “Well, it’s been about a week, so I wouldn’t expect anything exactly good...”

Otto: “...You imbeciles...”

The grave robbers whirled around at the sudden voice, but before they could react, a pair of Octavius’s metal arms had constricted one of them, threatening to snap his neck. The other two pulled out their guns, ready to shoot, when Chameleon lunged out of hiding, tackling and pinning one of them to the ground, his knife against his neck.

The last robber was afraid, and in his panic, called through a radio for reinforcements as Otto swung an arm at him, knocking the fool to the ground. 

Otto was about to land a killing blow when Spider-Man leaped into action, landing a web on the robber and pulling him out of the way as the metal tentacle slammed into the ground where the body snatcher had been half a second before. The robber was far from free, however for he soon found himself wrapped up and immobilized by Spider-Man’s webs. 

Otto: “Spider-Man... We have trash that needs to be cleaned up.”

Spider-Man: “Yeah, but I’m not lettin’ you kill them either Doctopus. I’m taking them to the police.”

Chameleon: “They deserve far worse, Spider. These... this SCUM has robbed probably hundreds of graves... Imagine all the stolen bodies they have desecrated! If you turn them in, I have no doubt in my mind that their friends and clients would break them out once more to tear up more of the dead.”

Spider-Man: “Okay, Chammy, I’m gonna need you to calm down. I’m just as much against grave robbing as any other wall crawler, but creating more dead people isn’t the answer! Let him go and I’ll handle this!”

Otto: “Your track record of ‘handling things’ is mediocre at best. Turning them in will solve nothing. Only direct action will!”

With that, Otto began to crush his ensnared victim. Peter lunged at the pair, attempting to save the idiot who had incurred the wrath of the sinister six. In doing so, some of the excavation equipment fell into the grave, busting open the coffin. The smell wafting out was.... far from pleasant. This made Otto fly more into a rage, whipping his arm to slam Peter right in the chest, knocking the wind completely out of him.

The robber pinned by Chameleon took the opportunity to try and tase the super villain. Chameleon was agile enough to dodge the nearly point-blank attack, but lost his grip on his victim. The thief quickly got to his feet as three more of his friends hurried onto the scene, guns pointed at the two sinister six members and Spider-Man.

Being surrounded and having no real options, the trio stood down as the grave robbers unwebbed their friend. 

Grave robber 4: “Well. It’s not everyday that we get to cart away an extra three bodies, boys!”

Otto: “Do not assume that you can kill us so easily. You will leave here with nothing. Not even your own lives, you vermin.”

As if almost on cue, bright green mist began to slowly fog around the graveyard.

Spider-Man: “...you doin’ this, Ock?”

Otto: “..No... I’m not...”

The robbers seemed perturbed by the sudden fog, however they kept their aim straight, ready to shoot.

That was until a plume of thick green smoke roiled out of the open grave. Everyone recoiled as the sound of cracking mahogany and scrape of metal could be heard below. 

Beck lurched and pulled himself out of his own tomb, raggedly wheezing. He was covered in dirt, mud, and his own blood. His armor was still as torn open as it was on the day he died, his helmet busted open.

The sight of him made everyone’s heart stop. His face was withered and had an expression of enraged confusion. His chest gaped open, his ribs exposed to the night air as his rotting innards hung dangling from what little flesh still held them together. 

Beck staggered to his feet, barely keeping his balance as air hissed in and out of his dilapidated mouth and his torn lungs. He stared at the crowd for a moment, trying to take in his surroundings, he blinked at the sight of Otto and Chameleon, lurching slowly toward them.

Beck: “Otto...? Chameleon...? where.. szztt.. am I...?”

His mouth did not move, but his voice came out all the same. It was distorted and sounded... like it was coming from the speaker within his helmet.

Spider-Man: “Quentin..? What’s...how...? You need to stop moving, you’re coming apart!”

At Parker’s indication, Beck took a better look at himself. Stammering and stuttering at the sight of his own torn carcass. The horror on his face made it all so much worse.

Beck: “HHzztt... h-how... Otto, h-help me.. wh-what..s.. happening?”

Realization at the situation sent an abysmally cold chill down Octavius’s metal spine.

Otto: “...The neutral net,” He breathed. “The neutral net I made for you to control your robots.... It must have... copied your mind into it’s processor... Your body is being animated... by the nano machines in your blood that helped link your suit to your body and repair damaged tissues... Quentin... You... died.”

Mysterio was quiet for a minute, clearly trying to process everything.

Beck: “.....r-right.... Terrax.... I.. was stabbed... I... I’m dead... I was alright with it too... It wasn’t so bad.... I was... shzzt... peace...”

He looked back at his grave, dirt, mud, and tools spread everywhere. His statue stood resolute, with all the authority of fate itself, standing by to judge the wicked on this night.

Beck turned back towards them.

Neo Mysterio: “I was... Alright with it. I was. At. Peace.” 

He gritted his teeth, rage in his mechanical voice. With his dead eyes he glared at the tormentors who would rob him of his rest. His claws came out with an audible “shink!”

Grave robber 2: “H-hey..! S-sorry man! We.. uh. We are just t-tryin’ to make a livin’ in this world, ya know?? We didn’t mean it!! We’ll go! ‘c-cmon guys..! Let’s scram!”

Grave robber 5: “Hell no, he died once, he’ll die again, just shoot the bugger and let’s go!”

A few of them shot at Quentin, the bullets either bouncing harmlessly off of his carbonadium shell or tearing into an already festering corpse.

Beck: “YOU ROBBED ME OF THE LAST THING I HAD IN THIS WORLD! YOU ROBBED ME OF MY PEACE!!”

He marched forward, bullets pounding against him relentlessly as he continued unperturbed by the deadly barrage. Spider-Man, Chameleon, and Octavius dared not get caught in the line of fire, rather they took cover from the spray of bullets scattering across the graveyard.

Relentless, now that was a fun word. He was going to take absolute revenge here and now. Relentless was how he was going to tear them limb from limb and make them feel every bit of agony his soul felt right now.

Beck: “I WAS FINALLY HAPPY. I WAS FINALLY CONTENT WITH MYSELF. I WAS FINALLY OKAY WITH LETTING IT ALL GO. FOR SO MANY DAMN YEARS I HATED EVERYTHING I DID AND EVERYTHING I HAD BECOME. I HAD FINALLY DONE SOMETHING I AND OTHERS WERE TRULY PROUD OF. 

I PAID FOR MY SINS WITH MY DAMN LIFE AND YOU COME HERE OUT OF GREED TO TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME?! HOW ABOUT I TAKE EVERYTHING AWAY FROM YOU!!!”

Spider-Man: “Beck! STOP!!”

He was a second from tearing his claws into one of their faces when he was dragged out of his atomic rage. Spider-Man yanked the robber out of Quentin’s hands and flung two web bombs at the rest of them, securely immobilizing them to the ground.

Otto: “Quentin! Enough! Enough. You don’t have to keep fighting, it’s.. it’s over.”

Beck paused for a second. The anger still boiled within him. He was a victim, it wasn’t right that he could not take matters into his own hands. It wasn’t fair! 

....Maybe Doc was right, of course. Killing these bastards was their goal, but would it solve anything? Would it make anything better? No. It really wouldn’t. It would only drive them deeper into the hate that had already consumed them.

Beck let his hands fall to his sides. Spider-Man took that has his queue to get out of there and alert the police.

                                                 -------------------------

With the arrival of the cops, the three reunited members of the sinister six had to leave. At the base, they were met with Sandman staring at them in disbelief. His friend was back from the dead! However zombie-like he appeared, Flint was a kind soul and could not stop himself from welcoming back Mysterio with a hug.

Quentin remained rather silent. He didn’t know how to take anything anymore. He felt as hollow as he physically was. He.. was dead. He was gone. He had been unwillingly dragged back into suffering. A cloud of depression clung to Beck as Otto worked on a way to reverse the bodily decay and fix Quentin. 

Fix Quentin. How can you “fix” a dead man? How can you undo such a traumatic thing as dying? It was certainly interesting once his brain was reanimated. The human brain dies in about five minutes after circulation has been cut off. Beck had been dead for over a week. 

His brain had to be completely regrown, along with most of his innards, slowly through the use of nano machines and intense stem cell cloning therapy that Otto had just delved into. The absolute cutting edge of health care. It could not actually bring back the dead, however. The copy of Beck’s brain patterns were pivotal in restoring his best friend. 

Having his mind transferred back into his body was a melting mix of sensations. All of his nerves felt on fire. He was back. His armor and body fixed, the sinister six were whole once more. 

They tried to get things back to a sense of normalcy. It had been a rough month. Overall, things were back to how they were, but Beck felt differently.

He felt... different. He did not know how to put it, and Otto could tell it was bugging him. Was he alive? He had truly died. Was he just a copy and the real Mysterio was long gone? At this point, it was schrodinger’s magician. 

                                             ----------------------------

The news had caught wind of the incident, and the Daily Bugle published a story from an anonymous tip that proved Beck was back from the grave. Photographs and video to boot, thanks to Parker.  Quentin was enraged at Spider-Man for filming and photographing his dead body in such a back handed manner. There would be consequences for this disgrace. The news of his ressurrection also sent a chill through the super villain community, and gave the sinister six a new found respect. 

Not even death could stop them. 

Not that it meant anything to Beck. He was listless. They were going to continue with Octavius’s plan like before, but his heart was not nearly as into it as before, at least at first. He owed his friend his life twice over now. He was not about to let Otto down, no matter what happened.

Beck was heartened to hear his sister’s cancer had regressed. The operation date to remove the tumor was already set.