#(the moonlight is blinding) ;; season 1 writing

[letsbenditlikebennett]

TIMING: After this PARTIES: @chasseurdeloup @kadavernagh @magmahearts & @letsbenditlikebennett LOCATION: Office of the Medical Examiner SUMMARY: After Rhett attacks Cass and leaves her in a bad state, Alex gets her out of the woods and calls Kaden for a ride to the morgue as soon as she has cell reception. Or Regan, again, receives unexpected live patients at the morgue and Marcy needs a raise.

The time between when she hung up the phone with Kaden and when he actually arrived had felt like an eternity. Alex was certain that the warden wouldn't be moving again, at least for a little while, but the blood that clung to her wasn't just Rhett's. As if instinctively, it she gripped onto Cass tighter, desperately trying to keep them both upright until her cousin got there which was a far too grim reminder that too much of the blood that caked her skin was Cass's. She had to actively fight the sick feeling growing in her stomach. Even on a good day, she wasn't good with blood and now she was covered in it. Not even the spare giant t-shirt that went down to her knees was safe from it as her girlfriend continued to bleed and Alex tried to try pressure to the myriad of different wounds that covered the oread. 

“I just need you to stay with me a little longer, ok,” Alex practically pleaded though she tried to give her a voice a reassuring tone. She wasn't sure how much it covered up her own fear. She doubted it did at all. “Kaden'll be here any minute, it's going to be okay.”

She wasn't sure who she was reassuring, but when she saw headlights coming up the road and the familiar sound of Kaden's engine. Alex had never been so relieved to hear him approaching. She was pretty sure she could actually cry, but she wouldn't. Cass was hurt and she needed to be brave for Cass. Or at least try. 

When the car rolled to a stop, she waited for Kaden to rush to her side. “Thank you,” she huffed, “She's heavier than she looks... rock and all. I think I've been applying pressure to the worst of it. I can sit in the back with her on the way to the morgue.”

She had her suspicions about Regan being a nymph herself, but they were just that. Suspicions. Alex had no actual clue if the medical examiner would be able to work with... well, a girl made of rocks. “Dr. Kavanagh should be able to help her, right?“ Regan had to be able to help her because the alternative was too difficult to stomach. 

—

The keys were in Kaden’s hand and he was hopping into his truck before he’d even hung up with Alex. He didn’t know exactly what was going on, just that it was an emergency, in the woods, hurt. Cass. He considered using the work truck and flipping on the lights to get there even faster but he figured, whatever it was that had actually happened, he would want the space of his normal truck. He dared someone to pull him over on the way there. He’d run them over.

He saw their small figures across the way long before he was close enough to stop the car. It was hard to resist the temptation to throw it in park and sprint to them the second his eyes were on Alex and her girlfriend but he managed and pulled up as close as he possibly could, tires skidding into place.

“Putain,” he said, throwing himself out of the car. His eyes swept over Alex, trying to assess her wounds. She was roughed up but alright. His eyes fell over Cass and it was clear that she was far from okay. “Alex what the hell happened to her?” He knew she mentioned a hunter but he hadn’t assumed Cass was this injured. Crouching down beside her, it was hard to believe this was the same kid who had no trouble facing off with a pinball whirling towards her. She was beaten down, broken. The sparks of life she was filled to the brim with before were fading away. 

Kaden nodded at Alex’s words and reached under the nymph to carefully scoop her up. He didn’t have any plan on how to help her but he knew they had to do something. Fast. First step was to get her into the truck and away from here. 

Kavanagh? His brow furrowed at the mention of the medical examiner. Made sense. Was as good a plan as any. “Maybe. I think so.” He couldn’t think about anything beyond the immediate. “Fae. She knows about fae. And she’s a doctor.” He wasn’t sure if he was telling Alex or reminding himself. “We’ll get her there. Keep pressure and support her while I lift her. On three.” 

—

There was no room to do anything but push forward. It brought a certain sense of clarity with it. There wasn't room for panic or acknowledging the multitude of sensations that would make Alex sick to her stomach under less dire circumstances. If her head had been more clear maybe she would have thought of the miracle that was adrenaline, but all she could think of was making sure Cass was okay. So when she answered Kaden, the weight of her answer didn't fully register. 

“A warden... We met him before but didn't know he was— I heard her scream when I was hiking toward the cave and he had already grabbed her. He was going to kill her so I stopped him,” Alex said flatly, ”If he didn't bleed out already, he knows what I am.“ Whether or not Rhett was dead wasn't something she could think about when Cass was barely hanging on. Hell, she was barely hanging on in the strength department which became harder to ignore when Kaden lifted Cass into the truck and she realized her own legs were shaking.  

The weight Kaden lifted was more than a physical one as Alex felt some hint of relief once Cass was being lifted into the truck. Her left arm carefully kept the oread's neck upright as the other hand kept pressure against the wound on her shoulder. She was quick to follow into the truck once they got Cass inside; she knew she'd have to keep applying pressure to the wound in Cass's shoulder which looked so much worse than it ought to, even for an iron blade. Her already blood-caked hand found the wound and pressed down on it. ”I think she is fae,“ she added, ”But that's... She can help. She'll be able to make sure Cass is okay.“ 

There was an unspoken desperation in her words. Alex wasn't sure if that was part of what pushed Kaden to drive at such a rapid pace, but she found she didn't care even if the way the trees whipped by them was dizzying. ”It's going to be okay,“ she reassured quietly as she looked down at Cass. She wasn't sure entirely who she was trying to convince, but Cass being okay felt like the only option. ”I've got you,“ she whispered. She'd promise as much if Cass would let her. 

Trees kept zipping by through the window as Alex remained still as could be. She was afraid to move, to shift Cass in a way that might make things worse, but the stillness of it all let the events catch up to her a bit. ”We'll need to go back and check that he's,“ she trailed off, unable to fully let herself acknowledge that she very well may have killed Rhett— or worse, that some small part of her hoped he was dead.

—

A warden. Knew what Alex was. Nearly killed Cass. Was probably bleeding out. Kaden tried to process the information but there was too much happening all at once. He had to focus on the task at hand: save the nymph in the back of the truck. The rest he would file away for later, figure it out then. Like if there was a dead body they had to worry about. And if they should inform the medical examiner during this visit. 

None of that mattered as much as driving as fast and as carefully as he could directly to the morgue. As soon as he closed the door on Alex, he rushed to the driver’s seat and tore out of there and back onto the road. Hopefully he wasn’t bringing Regan another dead body. A pit dropped in his stomach at the thought. No. His grip tightened on the wheel. He wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Worry about that later,” he said to her, eyes pinned forward, not even allowing himself to look back at her through the rearview mirror. If he looked back, he’d lose focus, start worrying about what else they could do. He had to stay single minded, focus on the mission. It wasn’t a hunt but for once his training might save someone instead of hurting them. 

Kaden wove his truck through traffic, barely stopped at any signs or lights, and raced through town to get them to the morgue. He didn’t bother finding a spot, instead throwing the truck into park right along the curb outside the glass doors. It briefly occurred to him that it would be hard enough to explain why they were carrying someone alive into the morgue to see the medical examiner and even harder to explain what Cass was to the front desk. Putain de merde. 

He hadn’t come up with any sort of plan or anything at all by the time he was helping pull the fae out of the truck. “I’ve got her,” he told Alex. “Get the door, call for Regan. Maybe, I don’t know, tell the front desk to leave.” He winced once the full weight of Cass’s rock covered body was in his arms. It was strange that someone so small and who looked so fragile just then could be so heavy. It wouldn’t slow him down, he wouldn’t falter, he wouldn’t let himself. 

—

It was a small kindness that Kaden was willing to talk about the warden aspect of things later. Alex wasn’t sure she could rely on herself to really recount the details when Cass felt so cold in her arms. The blood was pooling in the hands that were desperately pressing down on the wound in her shoulder. It took a concentrated effort to keep her hands from shaking, surprisingly not because of the slick feeling of blood against her skin, but because she was terrified. Even when that ranger had a gun pointed in her direction, she couldn’t remember feeling this frightened. Cass was too quiet in her arms, her features too pained and contorted. All she could think of was how much the oread meant to her and the fact it felt like she was slipping away right there in her arms. 

The fact Kaden hadn’t bothered with parking etiquette was more than a relief to Alex. Every second between them and getting Cass proper help felt like an eternity. The truck was practically pulled up to the glass doors and Kaden was carefully extracting Cass from the truck. She hopped out following and nodded diligently as Kaden spoke. “Ok,” she answered, “I’ll get Marcy… to not be there. And get Dr. Kavanagh. Just… I’ll be quick.” Her eyes fell to Cass, “Hang in there, okay?” 

She wasn’t sure the oread could hear her so Alex simply ran off and into the fluorescent lighting of the morgue. She remembered Marcy from before and she seemed to be typing away on her computer. What was the best way to ensure Marcy didn’t follow Regan back to her desk? “Hi, Marcy,” she greeted more frantically than she would have liked, “I need to see Dr. Kavanagh… it’s important medical examiner business. Tell her it’s Alex Bennett. I… uh I have Animal Control Officer Langley outside, too. You should probably… I think you look like you totally deserve to take your lunch break like right after grabbing Dr. Kavanagh.” 

—

“Fiddlesticks, fudge, no, figh can’t be right…” Marcy glanced up from her phone as the doors opened and… oh, this had Dr. Kavanagh all over it. She remembered Alex Bennett, one of the doc’s oddball visitors, and apparently she brought company. Another person. No, wait, two other – oh. Oh, fiddlesticks. This seemed urgent enough to call the doctor instead of shooting her a text. She did so immediately. “Regan, we have a code ‘what the fuck’ up here.” Marcy looked nervously at the three mostly-strangers who had interrupted her game of Connections (today’s theme of f-expletives seemed appropriate, suddenly), her eyes wide with confusion and perhaps some degree of understanding. Her fingers danced across the tabletop and finally Regan picked up. 

“Can this wait?” the doctor asked, sounding exasperated, “I’m in the middle of a–” 

Marcy cut her off. “Please don’t tell me what body part your hand is in. This is, like, really ‘what the fuck’. Come now, okay?” 

Regan simply hung up, and Marcy stared blankly at Alex, trying not to look at the company she’d walked in with. Marcy usually lived for gossip (and both Regan and Morty were the perfect fodder) but this was something else. Regan couldn’t come fast enough.

The last time they’d had a code ‘what the fuck,’ it had been because a horde of crabs came scuttling in and nearly carried Marcy away with them. The crabs seemed to be gone, but Regan reasonably expected something else quite serious. She rushed out and up, barreling through the doors. Oh, how she wished it were crabs.

Kaden. Alex. Some lump in his arms. This cinniúint-amú family. Treating her morgue like a – She halted, midstep, feeling the presence of something, someone else. The lump was more than a lump. More than human, even. Regan raced to get closer, immediately setting her hands on the fae’s strange skin (was it part of what was wrong?). A girl, barely more than a child. Unconscious, or near it. 

Regan’s first instinct was to shout, break some lights, remind Kaden that this was not the emergency department and serious injuries needed to be attended to elsewhere. But the injured being fae changed the equation significantly. She could not go to a hospital, and especially not looking like this. And where better was there, really? Before Regan had arrived in Saol Eile, they had relied upon inexperienced hands and anecdotes reeking of homeopathy. Regan understood the lack of options. She just didn’t like it. “Langley. Why are you always involved in these things?” She narrowed her eyes at Kaden, who was too easy to blame, but really, Alex had been equally involved in her own injury and possibly what was happening right now. Kaden was older, though, and his shoulders were adequately-muscled for carrying blame.

Right now she needed him to carry their injured. “Hurry it up,” she said, carding the doors open and pointing; Kaden probably remembered where her office was, but they might need the space and tools the autopsy suite would afford them today. What a screaming mess this was. She wasn’t even sure the two of them knew the girl was fae. Regan waved a curt but grateful goodbye to Marcy, who needed no instruction on what to do next (stall Rickers). “Continue past my office and into the autopsy room. Give me as much medical history as you have and tell me what happened. And tell me what’s wrong with her skin.” Regan paused, feeling confident in her words, which seemed worth delivering. “She will not die here.”

In the autopsy suite, she did not waste a second. There were rarely emergencies here; the dead did not mind waiting for their procedures. But now she was filled with an energy and urgency she hadn’t felt in a long time. “On the table. Now.” There was a decedent lying on the adjacent autopsy table. Regan had just managed to stuff his organs back into him and stitch him up, but he needed to be put back in the fridge. She did not like the idea of anyone else touching her patients. She was even stingy when it came to Rickers and the techs. But… her eyes flicked between the dead and the living, and with a defeated sigh, she then looked over at Kaden. “He goes in 8F. If you drop him I will place you in there instead.” She turned to the girl, pulled open her eyelids. The pupils responded automatically to the harsh overhead light. Good. “Round, equal, and reactive.”

Her skin was hard, craggy like stone, and it defied anything Regan had ever seen before. Had the circumstances been different, she could have spent hours looking at it under a microscope and her scalpel. But the circumstances were what they were, and what could have been exciting and full of wonder was currently a hindrance, obscuring what she needed to see. She decided to take a gamble with their knowledge. “You need to get her to glamour.” Regan said, meeting Alex’s eyes with a deadly serious intensity. “She may not be able to hold it in place, but she must, even if it’s only around her injuries. I cannot see what’s going on under this… material. And would not know how to treat it like this.” There was one thing she could see plainly, though: a deep, smoking wound across her left shoulder, like a flaming blade had been plunged through muscle. It was open, exposing something underneath that glowed with orange, pulsing energy, but no blood. “I believe this is from cold iron. Quickly. If you cannot wake her, I can, but it will hurt.”

—

Kaden didn’t know Cass as well as he’d like but he knew enough. He knew was going to do every goddamn thing he could to keep her alive. He knew he was going to find that warden and— He didn’t know what came after that. Because first thing was carrying Cass into the morgue and forgetting that this building housed dead bodies. She wasn’t going to be one of them. “I’ve got you,” he said as his arms cradled her rock covered body. The edges and rough surface dug and pinched into his skin, likely leaving marks and bruises. If there was pain, he didn’t notice, just held on tighter. “Stay with me. Alex is inside.” His words came out like gasps and he couldn’t be sure if that was due to the adrenaline coursing through his veins or the fact that she was heavy in his arms. He was shuffling to the door as fast as he could, very aware of the fact that with Alex going ahead, no one was able to put pressure on the wounds. “Magma’s not going to go down like this, alright?” 

If there was anyone working the front desk, Kaden didn’t notice her. His eyes were searching for one person and one person only. He was already headed directly to her office when his eyes locked on hers, a tiny flick of hope lighting up in him. Apparently she wasn’t as thankful to see him. Right now, he didn’t give a shit if she wanted him there or not, she was going to help with the kid. “You can scream at me later, Kavanagh. Help her.” He barely had to pause as the doors slid open. Relief was a second away when she said to go to the autopsy suite instead. His head shot around to face her, his brows knit together and worry written across his face. She will not die here. He didn’t know if that was a wish or a fact, but Regan’s tone seemed to write it in stone. He was going to cling to them as tightly as he held Cass. 

Once they were inside the suite, Kaden did his best to set her down gently on the table, but it was difficult to rest rock on metal without any clashing. He winced at the sounds, hoping he hadn’t made anything worse, silently apologizing to her as he laid her down. Kaden backed away and thought that, for the time being, the extent of his ability to help was spent. He was shocked to hear that wasn’t the case. His eyes fell on the dead body next to Cass, sutures laced all the way down from his chest. He wasn’t a stranger to dead bodies, but he never saw them like this. His stomach churned and he could feel bile churning up to his throat. “He goes in… 8F?” he repeated, hoping that it might buy him the time to steady himself as he went pale. 

Putain de merde. This was stupid, he had dealt with much worse, scenes that were far more gruesome and had caused worse than that. In here, in this setting, surrounded by the cold and sterile medical supplies, it felt completely different. He took a deep breath before he nodded, grit his teeth, and decided to rip off the metaphorical band aid. Just pretend they’re alive, he thought as he rolled the body towards the right drawer. Fucking hell, he was putting a body in a drawer. Right. Easier said than done. Just had to make sure he didn’t vomit or pass out in the process. 

—

She will not die here.

There was no way those words could be spoken with absolute certainty, but Alex clung onto them like they were a liferaft. Her mind sunk its claws into them as if they were some tangible string she could tangle and keep in her grip. The alternative wasn’t something she could consider. The alternative terrified her. 

Though a small part of her felt guilty that Regan seemed to think Kaden was somehow involved in what happened to Cass or could have been the cause. Alex shook her head. “It’s not Kaden’s fault,” she explained, “I couldn’t carry her all the way– I needed a ride.” Given the bone nymph was straight on to business, which wasn’t at all surprising, she stopped herself from overexplaining because the truth of it was simple, wasn’t it? No matter how good Cass was, no matter how many people she helped during her patrols as Magma, there would always be a warden out there like Rhett who didn’t care and wanted her dead anyway. 

“This is my girlfriend, Cass,” Alex explained, looking at the oread in Kaden’s arms somewhat helplessly, “I was meeting her for a picnic and I found her being attacked by a warden. She probably… we met him before but didn’t know he was a warden. She probably…” The words caught in her throat. “He didn’t follow us, I promise,” she quickly added, hoping it answered enough that Regan and let her know there wasn’t an immediate threat following. 

Whatever Dr. Kavanagh asked of her, Alex would do it happily. Already, the medical examiner was taking control of the situation in a way that seemed practiced. It probably was practiced. Even if most of Regan’s patients were already dead, she was still a medical doctor. Emergency training was part of the education and well, Regan also seemed inclined to let the stray non-dead patient into her morgue too. If she wasn’t so damn scared that her girlfriend was about to be knocking death’s door, she may have watched Regan work with more admiration. As it was, she was quick to follow instructions. Any directive the doctor gave her was meant to help Cass, so aptly paid attention and followed into the autopsy room. 

The dead body on the table next to Cass hadn’t even fully registered until Regan was directing Kaden to put it in… a drawer. Alex knew how morgues worked in theory, but the normally unsettling idea was completely overlooked as she carefully looked over Cass. Regan mentioned a glamour and it made Alex positive that coming to the bone nymph was the right call… even if the doctor wouldn’t call herself a bone nymph. There was a weight in Regan’s gaze that made Alex immediately nod dutifully. 

“I’ll do what I can,” Alex agreed, “I don’t… she’s already in enough pain.” 

Her attention shifted to Cass and Alex leaned closer to the table as she looked the oread over. Neither arm looked too good, so she wasn’t sure hand was the right way to get Cass’s attention. Instead, her hand found Cass’s cheek and softly cupped it in her hand. “Cass,” she breathed out. No, she had to speak up. Her voice couldn’t be as small and scared as she felt. “Cass,” she spoke louder, “Babe, I need you to concentrate for a little while. I know it hurts… but we have help, ok? Dr. Kavanagh just needs you to put up your glamour, at least around your injuries so she can start taking care of them.” 

Cass stirred under her touch and Alex let out a breath she hadn’t realized she held in. “You can hold my hand as tight as you need, if it helps,” she added, “But you got this, ok? You’re like the bravest and strongest person I know… if anyone can throw on the ‘ol razzle dazzle in a time like this, it’s you. I think… focus on getting it on for your shoulder first?” She gave Regan an inquisitive look, hoping that she gave the right directive there. 

—

There were flashes, after the woods. She remembered walking with Alex, her feet so much heavier than they usually felt. Alex’s voice, talking first to her and then to someone else, their responses tinny and far away as they came through the speaker of a phone. Then Kaden was there, too, in the blink-of-an-eye kind of way that meant she was definitely losing time. Another blink, and she was laying across Alex’s lap in the backseat of an unfamiliar car. Another, and they were somewhere else. She heard Alex and Kaden talking, but she couldn’t track the conversation. Alex vanished for a moment, and Cass let out a low whine, feeling more like a child than she had in such a long time.

Another flash. Someone was holding her. They were moving, and she felt the vibrations but they were stilted, dull. Everything was, the world narrowed to the pain in her shoulder where Rhett’s knife had gone in. That hurt more than the broken arm, and there was something almost funny about that, wasn’t there? You’d think the broken thing would hurt more. You’d think. 

Kaden said something to her, and it took longer than it should have for it to register. Called her Magma, and she let out a quiet sound that was almost a laugh. Had she told him? She didn’t remember. Maybe he’d known all the while, the whole time. Or maybe she was Magma not Cass to him at the moment. Did Spider-Man have this problem? She swore she knew, but she couldn’t remember.

Another flash, and there was something solid under her back. It was cold; everything was cold. There was a flutter in her gut that was familiar, but felt as far away as the rest of it. Another fae? For a moment, some childish, outlandish part of her wondered if it was her father or someone from that long-forgotten aos si in Hawai’i. If one of them cared enough, somehow, to know she was in trouble and just… appear. But when her eyes were forced open and a flash of light shone into them, she caught a glimpse of white hair and pale skin that couldn’t belong to anyone with family ties with her. Her eyes fluttered shut again. Alone. She was alone.

But… that wasn’t true, was it? There was a presence at her side, worried and hovering. Alex’s voice cut through the haze, and it sounded like music. Concentrate. Glamour. “Anything for you, babe,” she murmured, and it came out more slurred than she’d wanted it to be. It was supposed to be smooth. Impressive. But she wasn’t either of those right now, was she?

Her eyes squeezed shut tightly, glamour flickering. It was hard to concentrate through the pain, but Alex asked her to do it so she would. The glamour was visibly unsteady, flickering on and off like a faulty lightbulb. Skin one moment, stone the next. She concentrated hard on her injured shoulder, letting out a low groan. “It hurts,” she whispered. “Is it — Am I doing it?”

—

As Kaden struggled with the decedent (but, fine, ultimately did an acceptable job stowing him away), Regan dedicated herself fully to her new patient as information poured out. Girlfriend. Alex had mentioned dating a fae. The pieces snapped together like dislocated bones popping into place. And a warden did this. Her teeth clenched as her jaw tightened around them. “I am not concerned about you being followed.” Normally she would have chastised the promise, but it was not the time. Nor was it the time to mention involving the authorities. Sure, they could not know what Cass was, but this was an unprovoked attack on a near-child. How could someone get away with such a thing, without an effort even being made to stop them? She thought of Teagan, whose assailant was still out there, as far as anyone knew. It could have been the same individual behind both attacks, but they had distinctly different flavors. Discussion for later.

Alex did an admirable job keeping herself together for Cass’s sake. When this was through, she would tell the child that. For now, though, Regan did not want to distract her – especially when her words of encouragement to her girlfriend seemed to be working to stir the patient. “Shoulder first. That is the most pressing concern.” If Regan was correct. It would be the most painful, too. The other incised wounds surely hurt, but they weren’t as deep or putrid. Alex was succeeding – and for that matter, so was Cass. Mostly. The tough material flickered away, replaced by skin, only to transform itself back again. “Keep it steady,” Regan said, “I can only be as steady as you are.” She left providing any comfort to Alex and dove right in, her hands carefully navigating the margins of the wound now that she could see clearly; they were semi-cauterized but still smoldered, and seemed to be almost expanding. If Regan was capable of paling, she might have.

Seeing the injury seared through Cass’s flesh only confirmed Regan’s suspicions. “This is a cold iron injury. Do you know what that is?” She truly did not know the knowledge base of her audience anymore. “It won’t heal by itself. And I cannot improve it. But I can stop it from getting worse, and permit it to heal on its own, given time.” Her palms stung with their own reminder. She had one cold iron blade, and even Cliodhna did not permit its use under typical circumstances. “Kaden,” she turned to him and was pleased to find her own seriousness reflected back at her. “Here is my ID. Card into my office and go into the bottom right drawer of my desk. There is a jar – small, plastic, red top. Bring it here.”

–

Instructions. Those were good. Kaden could follow those. It was better, even. Otherwise the best he could do was pace and wonder if he was in anyone’s way or distracting Regan. He took the ID card and ran off. Once he was out of the door, he hesitated, trying to remember the direction they came in. It was all a blur since they got there and he’d been carrying Cass, he hadn’t paid attention. 

Deep breath. He was pretty sure it was that way and soon enough he was sure once he saw the familiar door to Regan’s office. He fumbled with the card and slammed it against the reader a few different ways, but he didn’t need to put in all the effort, one tap was enough. He nearly pulled the door off its hinges and dove into the office.

Putain, what was it she said? Drawer, something about a drawer. He glanced around and saw a lot of those. Which fucking one? Desk, right, she’d mentioned that, too. Desk drawer. Narrowed it down but not completely. Kaden shut his eyes and tried to repeat the words over in his mind. Bottom drawer. Desk. Red top. That’s what he got. Yanking open the left drawer, all he saw were skulls. That was actually a pretty nice raccoon one but– Right. Task at hand. Better try the drawer on the right before digging around the bones. Sure enough, in the second drawer there was a flash of red. He leaned over and pulled a book out of the way. “How to Flirt Without Sounding like a Serial Killer.” Right. Good luck to her on that one. He set it aside and saw a jar, but reaching for it, it was clear it was just mayonnaise. Which brought some more questions. Either way, next to it was a second jar and there it was, just like she said: red lid, plastic jar. Kaden didn’t know what was in it, all he knew was they needed it and so he grabbed it, sprinting out of the office as fast as he’d gotten there.

“Here,” he said, practically shoving the jar into Regan’s hands. He was out of breath from running but hadn’t noticed until he’d had to speak. Lungs heaving, he backed away and watched. That was all that was left for him to do, wasn’t it? Just watch, hope, and try not to get in the way, wait for any more instructions, but otherwise watch and wonder.

–

Kaden made haste and Regan was left with the two children. Something squirmed inside of her, seeing their pain. Fortunately for all of them, he wasn’t gone long. There it was: the red jar. She accepted it with a nod of approval, and hovered over Cass’s injury as she uncapped it. “This is for… these kinds of injuries. It is likely to work, but I can’t say for certain. It might not be to her specifications, though.” Regan opened the small jar and breathed in the scent of old bone marrow mixed with something floral. It was the last of what she’d brought from Saol Eile. If this happened again, she would need to figure something else out. Somewhere in her cabin was a book with instructions on making more of the salve, and though the ingredient list made a strange kind of sense, it filled her with unease. Still, she did know it worked… on banshees. She had seen it. “I’m going to put this in her wounds. It might sting a little at first, but it will function as an analgesic when it sets in. Most importantly, it will prevent the necrosis of her… flesh.” If it could be called flesh. “Know that there may be other effects. If you have objections, voice them now.”

—

Somewhere in the background, Kaden had returned to her side after getting the descendent where Regan had directed. A distant part of Alex knew that it couldn’t have been an easy task for him, but everything else seemed like a blur as she focused on Cass. It needed to be a blur. If she let her mind drift to the feeling of blood caked to her skin or linger on the fact she was absolutely terrified, there’s no way she’d be able to keep helping. Cass needed her to be strong right now, so she had to be strong. She gently held the oread’s hand and smiled down at her. “You’re doing so good, babe,” she reassured, her voice coming out much more gravelly than she would have liked, “Just keep it up and steady around your shoulder, ok? You got this.” 

She stayed close to Cass as Dr. Kavanagh looked over her shoulder. Every so often, Alex offered whispered reassurances to the oread. Her shoulder looked so much worse with the glamour up. It was so easy to see where the iron had seared her skin and how it seemed to be worse than when they’d first left the forest. Given, the lighting now was much clearer and the werewolf knew she should look away. Her stomach practically begged her to, but she couldn’t scare Cass more. It was her turn to be the brave one and she gripped onto Cass’s hand enough to mask the tremor in her own fingers. 

Her attention turned to Dr. Kavanagh as she spoke of cold iron. None of it made any sense to Alex. How was cold iron any different from regular iron? She didn’t think werewolves were more sensitive to cold silver. That would have been somewhere in the ranger family playbook. She shook her head. “I know iron hurts her. Most of what I know about fae… she didn’t grow up with other fae. I told her that iron hurts her. Is cold iron worse,” she asked though she was fairly certain she already knew the answer. 

It wasn’t something that could heal on its own. Alex wasn’t sure if that made her more angry or afraid. There was some strange haze of both that hung over her as she practically squeaked out, “Please.” Cass was already in terrible shape. She wasn’t sure how much worse the oread could handle before she— She quickly shook her head. She couldn’t think like that. Regan said Cass wouldn’t die here and she wouldn’t. She offered Kaden a quick grateful look as he made off to fetch what Regan needed. 

By the sound of his footsteps, Alex could tell he was moving quickly, but time still seemed to move too slowly. Somewhere she could hear a wall clock and the detail seemed deafening, more so than her own heart hammering away so erratically she swore she could feel it in her throat. Kaden was back and she tuned into Dr. Kavanagh’s instructions. It was likely to work and the emphasis on specifications wasn’t lost on Alex. “So it was made with a different type of fae in mind,” she said lowly, not really speaking to anyone so much as thinking aloud. It was a sure deal, but it was their only chance. While medicine was hardly something she knew about, she sure as hell knew enough that necrosis of the flesh was not good. And since it wasn’t made for Cass, she was fairly certain that meant it was hard to know what the other effects would be. 

“Use it,” Alex decided quickly as she glanced down the wound that already looked worse, “Whatever the effects are can’t be worse than the pacman of stab wounds over here.” If Cass was listening, she’d appreciate the arcade game reference. Alex smiled weakly as she remembered Cass showing her how to play the game and she knelt back down by Cass. “Hey, rockstar,” she grinned weakly, “You’re doing great. I just need you to hold out a little longer. Dr. Kavanagh is going to put something that’ll help on your wounds, but it might sting first… There may be some side effects, but I got you, ok? I’ll be right here.” 

—

She was out of it. It was difficult to follow the conversation, so she stopped trying. Alex would pick up on the important parts and tell her later… if there was a later. The thought rose up without her permission, inky black and heavy. Cass wasn’t a pessimist. Quite the opposite, in fact. She’d been called naive in her optimism, but she clung to it all the same because what was the alternative? The world fucking sucked. If you didn’t hold on to the bright side, you’d lose yourself to the darkness. 

But Cass couldn’t find the bright side here. She couldn’t work out the positives of the situation, couldn’t unpack the good. Everything hurt, and she’d never died before but she was pretty sure this was what it felt like. The way her shoulder seemed to be spreading pain to the rest of her, the shivers she couldn’t stop from wracking her frame, the way Alex and Dr. Kavanagh spoke about her like she wasn’t there and the way she might as well have not been there for how well she could listen to them. Alex was saying things to her occasionally, and Cass clung to her voice like a lifeline even if she couldn’t make out the words.

Alex was beside her, then, and Cass tried with everything she had to listen. Her glamour flickered as he concentration shifted, but she understood what Alex was saying. The doctor was going to do something. It was going to hurt. But it would help her, too. She closed her eyes, nodding her head. “Do it,” she agreed. “Do whatever. I don’t — I don’t want to die.” She looked to Dr. Kavanagh as she said it, eyes feeling wet. “I don’t want to die, okay? Do what you need to do, but don’t let me die.”

—

Cass’s informed consent was, Regan thought, as good as it would get. “No questions or concerns, then. We proceed.” There was something almost familiar about Cass’s voice when she spoke, and as the glamour flickered off her face for a moment, Regan recognized her. Oh, that was too strange to even think of right now. She focused instead on the weak, unevenness of Cass’s plea, the mortal fear, and was determined to be the unmoving force she was required to be. Regan’s voice had an edge of authority and certainty. “You’re not going to die here, today.” 

She was in the rhythm of urgency now, and Alex and Kaden cleared the way for what needed to be done. Cass was still having trouble with her glamour, but she seemed to be able to muster enough resolve to hold it steady now. Whatever that strange, tough material Cass’s skin truly consisted of, it would have been impossible for Regan to access for application. “Good work.” She offered the rare praise, a reminder to hang on as long as she could. With careful hands, Regan dabbed the cream around the wound. What remained went into the other injuries, just in case those were from the same blade, though they didn’t look so malignant. It would help either way. And then that was it. The last of what she had brought from Saol Eile, exhausted. Traded for Cass. Please let it work. 

The wound pulsed with a strange darkness for a moment like the salve had stained it, then sizzled, the searing heat of the iron abating. It still gaped with toothy, jagged edges but now, given the time and proper care, Regan was confident that it would heal. At least until it happened again. These people… this town…  it was at times more rotten than anything in her morgue, and she ought to be grateful she would soon be leaving it. Her eyes ticked from Alex to Kaden, who were probably full of complicated emotions right now. Hope. Fear. Confusion. Her own concern gnawed at her but she set it on ice like her cadavers. Regan watched as the wound seemed to soak up the remaining darkness and waited. For what, she did not know.

—

Good work. It was stupid, she knew. The way those two words somehow meant more than the promise that she wouldn’t die here today, the way they sent a thrill of newfound energy surging through her veins that allowed her the concentration she needed to hold that glamour in place. The doctor, the fae doctor said good work, and Cass was eleven years old again, trying with everything she had to win the approval of nymphs who saw her as more of a bother than a person. Back then, she’d never earned anything resembling praise. But now? She was doing good work. Her smile was small and pained and tight, but it was still there. It was still real.

The doctor’s hands were at the injury on her shoulder, the one that burned and ached and felt hot and cold at the same time. She touched it with something cool, and it was like someone had injected darkness into her veins. The effect felt so instantaneous. The room dimmed. The temperature dropped. Cass blinked, and when she dragged her eyes back open, the morgue was full of strangers. A man with his chest hanging open, staples ripped out. A woman with goat’s legs and a darkening bruise around her throat. A teenager with a crown of blood encircling their head, eyes curious and sad. In the middle of them all, partially blocked off by their bodies, stood Rhett. Staring down at her with an expression of mild curiosity, like she was an animal in the zoo. The scratches Alex’s claws had left in his face were there, blood dry now. 

Were these ghosts, she wondered? A sea of the dead, beckoning for Cass to join them? Her eyes darted to Alex and Kaden and the doctor. There was a wound in Kaden’s side, freely bleeding. His shirt was so covered in blood that the fabric was hard to make out beneath it — had he been wearing red flannel, or did it just look that way now? Alex’s hair was the wrong shade of red, shining dully in the overhead lights of the morgue. It was wet. Not water. It wasn’t water soaking her head. The doctor was in black and white (was that why she looked familiar?), but there were spots of red slowly staining through, swirls of color that didn’t belong. Cass’s breath hitched, eyes darting between them all until something behind them caught her attention.

Kuma stood a few feet from Rhett, arms crossed over her chest. Debbie was beside her, the injuries that led to her death prevalent and obvious in the morgue. They both looked rotted. Everything ached.

And then, Cass blinked again, and it was all gone. It was just as it had been before. There was no blood in Alex’s hair. Kaden’s shirt was clean. The doctor wasn’t exactly colorful, still, white coat and all, but there was no red to be seen. And her shoulder didn’t burn, and she didn’t feel quite as cold, but the exhaustion that clung to her was hard to fight.

“Thank you,” she whispered to the doctor, squeezing her eyes shut. When she opened them again, they darted around for a moment before meeting Alex’s. Clear and blue and alive, like they were supposed to be. She offered the werewolf a small smile and let her consciousness flee. Safe. She was safe now.

—

Desperation had a way of making time seem slower. Alex knew the clock ticked at the same rhythm somewhere off in the distance, but it felt distorted as she gave the doctor room to take care of Cass’s wounds. It wasn’t the first time that Regan assured the oread wouldn’t die here. Fae couldn’t lie. Cass had told her that. Sure, the truth was subjective, but Dr. Kavanagh was a bone nymph. If she said Cass wasn’t going to die here that had to be the truth. At least, it alleviated some of her own fear so she could be the steady presence her girlfriend needed. Not that she would consider herself steady. The only thing that felt steady was the gaze she kept trained on Cass. Even blinking felt like a gamble that she only took when her eyes felt like they were burning. 

The salve seemed to create a cloud of darkness around it and Alex found herself having to cover her mouth and nose as the wound seared. It was strange. The autopsy suite didn’t smell like burning. The bite of medical grade cleaners was the predominant scent in the air, but underneath she could smell him. His blood still coated her body and she didn’t dare look down to find it drying on her skin. Just focus on Cass. 

It seemed like the remedy Dr. Kavanagh had given her was working though Alex couldn’t explain how. There had to be some supernatural fae aspect to it. She could hear the rapid pounding of Cass’s heart, but it was hard to discern anything wrong besides the obvious. Her eyes were darting around the morgue and the werewolf wasn’t sure what she was seeing. She could only hope it wasn’t anything too bad, but if it meant Cass would live, she guessed whatever it was had to be worth it. 

After what felt like an eternity, Cass thanked the doctor and locked eyes with Alex. It was the briefest glance before she watched the oread fully slump onto the table. The breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding came out as a small gasp and she felt everything she’d been compartmentalizing threatening to spill over with it. She took in a slow breath before looking up to Regan. “Dr. Kavanagh,” she started hesitantly. She wasn’t sure where to begin or what to say. All she could think was to express her gratitude, even if Regan would tell her it was foolish. “Thank you,” she said finally, “Really. You saved her. I–”

The words ‘almost lost her’ found themselves trapped in her throat and came out as a strangled sound. It was a floodgate that Alex couldn’t allow herself to open just yet so she shook her head. “I just appreciate it and I’m glad you’re still here.” Aside from the fact Cass would have likely literally died in her arms, she did like Regan. “Anything I need to do for her as far as healing and taking care of her goes, I’m all ears.” 

—

There wasn’t anything left for Kaden to do to help Cass. He was just as helpless as she was to fix her at that moment. He stood back and tried not to be in the way. Alex was there to comfort her girlfriend, Regan was there to heal her, and as much as he wanted to peer over her shoulder and see what was going on, check if it was working, he knew better. Hovering could only make it worse if anything at all. 

Now that his part was done, his mind drifted to the cause of her wounds, the blood covering Alex’s clothes. A warden. Another hunter. Kaden had to wonder if it was someone he knew. His stomach dropped as the face of the hunter dying at Andy’s hand flashed into his memory. Would he see that same look all over again? Would it be at his hands this time? Or Alex’s? Had she already killed him? He didn’t know. He didn’t want this to keep happening. Death. Over and over again. A snake eating its tail. And Kaden didn’t know how to stop it when all he knew how to do was how to slice it in half. 

The gasp from the fae on the table pulled his focus back to the present. His own breath stopped as he waited to see what would happen next – would she pull through or would she pass out again? He reached out and put a hand on Alex’s shoulder, hoping to give some comfort to her while she was giving all hers away to Cass. 

The words ‘thank you’ felt like a sigh of relief, a sign that the course had corrected itself. For now. “Good work,” he said to Regan. “See, way better than a hospital.” He had no idea what it was she did, but he knew it worked. That was enough for him. But now that they were in the clear, thoughts of the hunter and the potentially dead body in the woods lingered. Putain. His eyes darted to Alex, then back to the medical examiner. He opened his mouth to speak. “I, uh, when you have a second I need to talk to–” He knew what he should do, he should report the potential dead body. Alex wouldn’t be implicated. She couldn’t. Right? It’s not like she was human when she did it. Actually, he didn’t know. He just assumed. 

He owed it to the hunter to say something, owed it to his family, but he owed Alex more. He couldn’t risk it. “Nevermind,” he said, waving it off. “Thanks again. Hopefully you won’t see me here again anytime soon.” He glanced back to Alex and gave her a nod. “Come on, let’s get her back home so she can rest.” 

—

Something was happening to Cass – her eyes went wide and scanned the room as if she was looking for something or seeing something, and Regan watched in silence for a moment. Whatever it was seemed to pass, but that didn’t mean it was the last of it. She glanced down to the empty jar, the remnants of the cream clinging to the neck of it. Do not let it be a mistake. The child was increasingly lucid, though, which had to be a good sign. Her other injuries were minor in comparison, and Regan bandaged them up, confident they needed no further attention from her. Cass was certainly benefiting from the diligent attention of her girlfriend, though. Probably an ill-advised relationship, if Cass’s lifespan was anything like that of a banshee’s. But happiness was a rare and often hard-won thing, and she would not spoil theirs, however useless she felt the emotion to be. Yes. Useless. Of course it was. She suppressed the trickle of doubt.

As Cass roused herself up and the two of them thanked her, Regan shook her head. Their gratitude was less than ideal – or at least the language used to express it, was. She let the thank yous linger, not accepting them nor chastising right now. “It’s not over yet. You have a lot of healing to do, and there may be lingering effects from the wound and what I applied to it. Monitor it closely and come to me if anything unexpected occurs.” Her voice lowered, something soft squirming through her that she barely recognized and did not particularly like. “I didn’t save her. I think you did that. Or perhaps she saved herself.”

And then there was Kaden. “I do not need your ‘good job’.” She narrowed her eyes at him. Demeaning. And what followed pulled at her temper, however much she tried to deny it. “Or your jokes. You come here instead of the hospital and you tell me good job.” Regan wrinkled her nose at him, but Cass was too much a priority for her aggravation at the remark to persist. Did Kaden have something to tell her? Or was he trying to tell something to Alex or Cass? She wasn’t going to figure it out now, apparently, as he seemed to cut himself off. Later, then. Maybe he was trying to tell her there was something to discuss later. She turned to address all three of them. “Not that you chose poorly, in this very specific instance. But we are not done here. Today, right now, we are, because… well, she is asleep.” Regan motioned toward Cass, whose eyes were shut and who looked entirely like a rock again. “But we will need to discuss this attempted murder. I don’t need another victim in here.”

—

Adrenaline was a funny thing. In the absence of an immediate threat and the knowledge Cass would be okay, the rush that had been pushing her forward had melted into lead. Or maybe peridotite would be more accurate. The metaphorical density of her bones was hardly the point, but Alex knew they felt heavy. So did the blood and flakes of rock on her skin. And her chest. She wasn’t sure if it was the firm kick from Rhett or the weight of what had just happened catching up to her somehow, but now it was sinking. 

Then the hand on her shoulder reminded Alex she didn’t have to carry this alone. Even as Kaden spoke again, there was something decisive in his tone. He knew as well as she did that Regan would have questions. She didn’t mind that so much. Even if Regan seemed to follow the letter of the law, she knew about this stuff. She was part of this stuff. She’d seen firsthand what Rhett had done to Cass. Even if the medical examiner did insist on going the official route, she doubted claw marks could truly be traced back to her. Plus, she was pretty sure some logic or law of self defense was on her side. There was a chance she killed him, but he’d been the one to lift the knife. She’s given him every chance. Her gaze drifted to her sleeping girlfriend and she couldn’t help but think maybe she’d given him too many chances. 

That thought hurt to linger on so Alex instead aptly listened to the doctor’s instructions. She’d need to monitor Cass closely. She could do that. Hell, she wasn’t sure it’d be so much a choice on her part. As tired as she was, she didn’t think she’d find sleep in the coming hours. She’d nodded diligently and had been prepared to accept the instructions as they were, but then there was something there again. It was the tiniest glimpse of something less cold in her eyes. It was brief and if the doctor’s words hadn’t matched that slight etch of something warmer in her features, she would have doubted she saw it all. “Oh,” she uttered with wide eyes. She hadn’t expected that. Dr. Kavanagh had called her a good child once, but this held something more. She saved someone. She saved Cass. She wasn’t too soft. She was soft and she’d protected those parts of herself by protecting the person who brought them out the most. And Cass saved herself too. She was proud of her for pushing through that pain so Dr. Kavanagh could treat her wounds even if the oread never should have experienced that pain in the first place.

If the creeping exhaustion hadn’t fully made itself at home in her body, Alex would have nudged her cousin. It wasn’t lost on her that jokes in the face of traumatic incidents was a shared family trait. Pointing it now wouldn’t hold the same satisfaction, especially not when there was something so comfortable in it for her. Dr. Kavanagh didn’t seem to appreciate it though. That wasn’t entirely surprising and if she wasn’t so tired, she’d feel bad that Kaden seemed to be taking the brunt of her frustration when all he did was drive the car. “We’ll get her home,” she assured, “Once she’s settled, I’ll answer anything you want to know. He won’t do this again.”

Alex didn’t know if he was dead, but some part of her knew he probably should be. That spark of hatred in his eyes was too familiar. She knew the only thing that put it out was blood. Or at least, if there had been some other answer, she wasn’t privy to it. If love had been enough, she had to think it would have made a difference with her parents. It didn’t matter anyway. She gave Cass’s hand one final squeeze before she moved aside to let Kaden pick her back up so they could go home. “You’re gonna be okay,” she whispered to the oread she knew couldn’t hear her, “I got you. We got you.” 

Because even if she couldn’t hear it, Alex still felt it was important to remind Cass she wasn’t alone in the world. Not anymore. 

[cecedownbad]

Hold On

Summary: A missing child's case resurfaced so many memories you wished to keep buried. Sure enough, seeking comfort from the heavy feelings came by as a form of a person. [Spencer Reid X Fem!Reader] Part 1.

Warnings: Death of a child, made up case, made up case numbers, abusive mother, absent father, no Y/N, there is a last name: Cyrus. Hurt/ Comfort. A two part fic, Spencer is a supportive friend here. Pretty much a whole episode of CM. Probable inaccurate science facts, not that great at writing mysteries, I think, don't mind the weird conclusions. Self indulgent in all it's glory (minus the fem part), my apologies. Proof read but I'm blind so lmk if there are bothersome errors.

Word Count: 4.7k

Based on very sad songs that I won't put up cause we deserve better. Binged all 16 seasons in 2 weeks, it was worth it.

Enjoy

"I was always ashamed to take. So I gave. It was not a virtue. It was a disguise."

-Anaïs Nin

"Mom, where's Steven?" A dark room, with nothing but a single bed, and a desk that contained one clock furnished the surroundings. The ticking of the clock resonated within you, each tick causing you to step forward to a door ajar, light seeping through it.

Not too bright, not too dark, moonlight streaming in through the cracks much like a distant scream in a faraway place. "Sweetie? Go back to bed, you have to go to school tomorrow." A still voice poured in, the voice echoed in almost engulfing you but your feet already brought you face to face with what caused all your nightmares. "Steven has not come back from his play time. Where is he, Mom?" Your voice is so soft yet embroidered in concern. "Steven is okay, go back to bed." The woman in front of you smiled, her smile was stretched. Her eyes harboured nothing as if you stared right into the abyss.

Yet, her face was...gone, her eyes were full, her smile, so impeccable but where was her face, why couldn't you remember?

"Oh my sweet girl, you look just like me." She beamed but you stood there confused, to which you backed away from the room and entered your bedroom.

Nothing was out of place, everything remained as it was, like that day, what day was it?

When your eyes took in the room you noticed a small juice box, the very same one Steven had drunk, right after he...wait, who was 'he'?

Then you heard her, "I told you to go to sleep, didn't I?" The anger that seethed from her caused nothing but fear to blanket you. She towered over you, whispering, "I took Steven to a better place."

That was when you knew, your little brother, was never coming back from his play time, he was never going to drink his favourite juice again. That was his fault, he just didn't listen to Mother. This is what happens to children who disobey.

You turned around and smiled at her, "Mother," you called out, "I'll be a good girl, I'll never disappoint you."

All the while you quivered, knowing that your little brother was gone for good, "Steven, I'll find you, I promise."

'I promise, Steven...'

'Who's Steven?'

Your eyes shot awake like you'd been shot with a bullet to your gut, 'Ugh, what?' The sudden rush of light filtered in, waking you from your short nap and making you rub and squint your eyes, then you felt how sticky your back had felt, the palms of your hands damp from sweat. 'You were calling out to someone just now, you said, "I'll find you, I promise, Steven" in your sleep.' Spencer questioned you, his eyes gathering that you showed signs of having a bad dream.

'Uh, nothing, it's nothing, just haven't got much sleep, is all.' You brush off the question, looking around, you get up from your seat, taking in that you were returning from a case in Wichita and the team was on the jet back to Quantico. You excused yourself to the bathroom, the size of it and the dim light were not ideal but you needed to freshen up.

Twisting the faucet, you let the water run and washed your face, the cold water woke you up right away. A sudden rush of relief had hit you, a sense of comfort knowing that your bad dream could not seep into reality, the safety of it was that you knew nothing could get to you when you were surrounded by the best agents you could ever meet.

It happened not too long ago when you were invited to join the BAU, thanks to a recommendation from the Criminal Investigation Division.

Grabbing a tissue from the dispenser by the sink, you wiped your hands and face, throwing the used tissue in the slot made for waste disposal right below the sink. A sigh sounded out of you, with one last look at yourself in the mirror, you straightened your clothes and walked out of the loo. 'How are you doing?' Spencer asked you as you sat in the seat before him, his right hand holding an open book, which you presume is written in Russian. 'Yeah, I just had a bad dream, nothing big.' You once again dismiss him.

It wasn't exactly an alarming thing to have a bad dream. On the contrary, you were accustomed to having nightmares and bad dreams but this one was different, recurring in all its forms. The sounds, the sights, were familiar but all the more terrifying, there wasn't a feeling so twisted as this one. 'I don't think it was just a bad dream, your breathing rate increased from the normal 12 to 18 breathes per minute to 25 to 30 in the three minutes after you woke up and you were sweating profusely. Are you sure you're okay?' He breathed out, his eyes already reading your every movement, catching how you twitched when he caught that you were not telling him the truth. 'Reid...thank you for worrying but I—'

'Alright, crime fighters, how's everyone doing, all tucked in?' Saved by the bell as it goes, Penelope popped up on the jet's screen, 'Yeah, can't wait to get some sleep.' JJ groaned.

'Uh about that, I'm really sorry for putting this on you guys, I know you guys are tired and I hate doing this right after a case and- I have some bad news.'

'What is it, Garcia?' Emily asked

'Okay so you have another case, it's a missing child case in Bakersfield, a 6 year old boy named Stephen Turner, last seen in his, oh this is so sad, in his room. A report was sent 12 minutes ago.' The name made you freeze, you could hear your heart beat quickening, the way it felt like it could run for miles was a pain you were sure you put behind. 'Garcia is that Steven or Stephen?'

'Oh I'm pretty sure it's Stephen, my love.'

'Okay, thanks...' it wasn't relief that washed over you, but the name carried a heavy weight.

'Bakersfield, California, Right?' Luke clarified. 'Yes newbie, I'll have the files sent to you immediately on your tablets and the rest should be at the local Police department there, Good luck guys!' Garcia signed off immediately after.

'Okay, we know the drill, we only have 24 hours or we'll be looking for a body. I'll inform the pilot to change course. When we land, JJ and Rossi go to the Turner house and speak with the parents. Reid go with them, we need to know how he was taken from his room. Luke and Tara, I want you to scout the neighborhood, maybe someone saw something.' She turned to face you, 'Cyrus, you'll be with me, we'll speak with the Chief there.' Emily gave everyone their designated tasks.

Everyone exchanged nods with their partners. You exchanged a glance with Emily, standing up from your seat, you chose to stand all the while till it was necessary to be seated when the jet landed.

-----------------

'Chief Marks, this is SSA Cyrus, I'm Unit Chief Prentiss, What have we got so far on Stephen Turner?' She quickly shook hands with the PD Chief, You took it as a chance to observe the department, a missing child case gave you little time for formalities. 'So far, zilch, I have some of my officers posted around the neighbourhood, even questioned across the street, said they saw nothing.'

'My Agents are already there, let's hope they turn up with something new.' Emily informed the chief and led you both to an empty conference room, informing you that this was the only available room at such short notice. 'Chief Marks, would you mind bringing in prior missing child case reports, preferably going back 20 years.' You asked before he got the chance to leave, there was still one nagging question that you had to rule out.

Could your mother be involved? Or was it your paranoia getting the best of you? but a job was a job, if an MO matched with an old case, narrowing down suspects was a huge load off.

'Anything you need.' He answered in the affirmative after a pause.

'Something in mind?' Emily asked you.

'This is my hometown, I've read my fair share of missing child cases but if there's a chance one of them bares any similarities, we might be able to narrow down our search.' You explained, opening boxes of the gathered information on Stephen.

'Yes, I'm sorry I forgot, after the case maybe you can go see your folks?' The thought was so lighthearted but you had gulped in guilt at the words, 'No, we need to go back to the Academy...my folks and I aren't in good terms.'

'Oh, let me know if there's anything I can do?' She asked softly, which you smiled to in response, 'Of course.'

Emily was always a friend before a Unit Chief when she caught on to indications of a slight change in behaviour, it made it a whole lot easier to speak to her about things you wouldn't bother about with your old Unit Chief.

---------------------------

'What have you got so far?'

'Nothing solid, of the two stacks of cases brought in, 2/3ds hardly match the MO and, the remaining few, let's say it didn't end well for the kids.' You gritted your teeth at the last sentence.

JJ, Rossi and Spencer walked in right at that moment, 'What did you find?' Emily asked the three.

'There wasn't a sign of struggle in the room, it's likely the UnSub and Stephen knew each other or he could have been drugged, there was no sign of a break-in either but the spare key that was left under one of the plants was missing, UnSub definitely planned the kidnapping and was aware of the layout of the house.' Reid informed.

'Mom and Dad are worked up, said they didn't hear anything from the kids room upstairs, hasn't gotten into any fights at school or kids around the area or within the family.' Rossi states.

'Yeah, Joy, Stephen's mom, said he was well liked, got good grades, knew not to trust strangers,' JJ took a deep breath, 'He's a healthy 6 year old boy and apart from not being athletic, he's just one normal kid in a family of 4.'

'Wait, 4?' You stopped JJ.

'Yeah...he has an older—'

'Sister? Say 11 or 12?' You completed, the fear inside you built. 'Yes, 12, how, how did you know?'

That same empty feeling drained out of you, fear blanketed whatever memory you recalled from this place. 'Good guess, I think, is the family here I, uh, I want to speak with them, maybe the sister even.'

'I can ask them to come in but why?'

'I think she might know something or maybe even the UnSub.' You breathed, 'I'm gonna go out for some air, Emily?'

'Yes, of course.'

'Thanks.' You nod slowly and walk out of the conference room and out of the PD. You leaned back on the wall, sunlight barely visible due to it now being autumn, orange-tinted leaves lightly grazed the pavements. Passersby walking hand in hand or holding on to a warm drink. It's a pleasant scene for the beginning of the most painful nightmares.

'...Steven.'

'You said his name again.'

'Ah! Jeez, Reid! You scared the crap out of me, don't do that again!' Stepping back you raised your hands ahead of you in defense.

'Sorry, I brought you coffee.' He offered.

'Thank you, what are you doing? Out here, I mean.'

'I know it's a little bit of an unspoken rule that we don't profile on the team but-'

'But, you profiled me,' you sighed, this was expected, you knew he was only worried about you but it never occurred to you that he'd come looking for you. Being in the BAU for more than a year doesn't make you chummy with each other, especially with Dr. Spencer Reid, or so you've heard.

He was cautious around you, he was not afraid, just that he could tell you preferred solitude compared to the average population. But he never took the chance that when you displayed more emotion than you would otherwise, to walk away. Always asking if you were alright, leaving you small treats at your desk knowing that it helps you. You kept to yourself and he respected that, in turn, so did you. Not many catch on to your subtle way of pulling back from too much physical contact, or the way you'd always make the person before you speak, knowing they had no chance of asking you about the details of the life you lived.

In a way, admiring his skills as a profiler was easy to come by. More so his little actions that left you thinking that he was one of the few people you'd consider opening up to. So listening to his observations was, if not intriguing, worth betting on.

'Okay, tell me what you got.' You let him have at it.

'Well, I would go into statistics but I'll keep it short. You have been on edge from the moment Garcia mentioned your hometown and judging by the way you keep mentioning this person's name, who I'll assume is someone you know from here and bad...things happened, causing you to have nightmares now more frequently maybe due to an anniversary.' He laid out like you were an open book. Who were you kidding? Where would he be if he wasn't good at his job?

Your brows knitted and you let out a painful chuckle but you knew that wasn't all he figured out. 'What else?'

'You had also correctly estimated Stephen's sister's age simply based on the fact that they are a family of 4, which tells me that this isn't the first this has happened here, in fact the very first time it did, it was very close to you or maybe you were involved.' He finished the last of his deduction and looked at you, searching for a mistake in his findings, it concerned you after all.

'You got me, ha. That name, Steven, he um, he was—' you tried completing your sentence, your lips began shaking and you looked away from Spencer because other people seeing you cry was never on your bucket list. 'Steven was my little brother.' You bit the words but it spilled out in all it's shapeless glory.

'Was?' Spencer questioned.

'He went missing, 20 years ago...he was 6, just like Stephen and I was...11, just like that little girl.' It took everything in you, every bone and muscle to let out what you couldn't for 20 years. 'Do you know what happened to him?' Spencer quietly asked. 'All I know was that my mother had brought him out to play and he never came back, whenever I asked all she would do was look at me like maybe I should've been the one that was gone.'

'Does anyone know? Someone had to be searching for him—'

'Reid, no one knew my brother, they...forgot him, or chose to. I couldn't ask what had happened or go to the police station because my mother, she would tell me he was okay.' The warm streaks of salty tears had left your eyes, you wanted them to stop, it was shame and regret that filled your mind. 'Four days from now would be his anniversary of the day he disappeared.' Wiping your cheek and turning to face Spencer, you caught a glimpse of a man that looked like he knew.

Knew how much you were hurting, how that showing this side of yourself was only making it worse.

'I—'

'I'm sorry to interrupt but the Turner family is here.' An officer from the department had called you in. 'Yes, I'll be right there...Reid, thank you for the coffee and for uh, listening, I'll fill you in on the rest if you want.'

He subtly nodded and you both ushered inside.

You spotted the family and exchanged a quick greeting, expressing your apologies and understanding of the situation you began asking questions and later focused on asking the little girl, who was shaken up but put on a brave front to stay strong. Braver than the parents, you note.

'Hi, Tina, right? How are you feeling?' you bent down to meet her eye level. 'I'm fine, it's Stephen I'm worried about and you should be too.' She strongly expressed. Her concern for her brother was what made you smile inwardly, 'We are, Tina but we're going to ask you some questions. Is that okay with you?' Quickly gaining the quiet approval of the parents you proceeded.

'Are you and Stephen close?'

'Yeah, he's very clumsy so I have to look out for him a lot, and because he's so short, I don't like people thinking they can pick on him.' She answered true. 'That's very good Tina, you're a wonderful sister, tell me, lately has there been anyone you know who's been close to Stephen besides you or your parents?'

'No not really, he's got two friends but they both moved away...oh!' The girl had a moment of realisation. 'There's this lady that visits our house sometimes. My mom and dad usually say hi to her, and she keeps asking me if Stephen's been studying well.' She completed.

'That's Rosa, she's the head of the neighbourhood watch, she was with me even when I was in labour  at the hospital here, suggested the name too, you don't think?' The mother's face contorted a little as her mind raced.

How could you forget your mother's name, she flaunted it for as long as you stayed with her. Rosa Cyrus, a symbol of hope so domineering, it paralysis any that gets too close to its core, that's who she was, or who she saw herself as.

'We can't say for sure ma'am, but you should stay here. Thank you, Tina, what you said was very helpful. We'll find your brother, I promise.' You stuck your hand out and she grabbed it quickly, giving you a wobbly handshake her little hands could gather. 'Uhm, Ms. FBI Agent ma'am, I really want to see my brother again, please.'

You sucked in whatever painful thought you gathered and gave the family a smile.

'Thank you, please find him.' The father could barely put up a brave front, his face already riddled with tear stains. 'We will.'

'Good job.' Rossi was outside the door, he gently patted your shoulder. 'Hmm, we need to find him.'

'And we will, after all, with a team like ours and not to mention boy genius, we'll find the kid.' Rossi's words brought comfort.

--------------------------

You immediately called Garcia once you entered the conference room where everyone was gathered, 'Find the location of Rosa Cyrus, any properties in her name and any known associates, She might have moved to this neighbourhood 10 years ago, also I need you to trace her past phone calls and bank transactions.' You felt your patience running thin, you knew this woman from the moment her name-dropped, she was your mother after all. Now all you wished for was that you got rid of all traces of her, including her last name.

'Um Hi?'

'Garcia, now.'

It wasn't your intention to be demanding, or sound angry, emotions getting in the way of work has rough consequences. 'O-okay, I'll be back as soon as possible.' You let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed your forehead. 'Who is she?' Tara asked you, and you paused and looked at her, it was then that you caught on that everyone in the room had a torn look of concern directed at you.

'My mother.' You took your chance and here spills the truth.

'Your mother? What does your mother have to do with this?' Emily asked, she wasn't asking as a friend but as your chief. 'Tina said that Rosa Cyrus had been visiting their house every now and then, checking in on Stephen, claiming that she was only doing her duty as the head of the neighbourhood watch. The mother said she was even present when he was born, and gave him his name too.'

'But why—'

'Okay guys, this is very suspicious,' Garcia checked back in right on time.

'Rosa Cyrus, born and raised in Bakersfield, once married to a construction worker named Daniel Carter. Later she gave birth to one, oh uhm, little girl-' you shut your eyes at the mention of your name, '-and she went into labour once again... the only thing specified about the baby was the gender, it was a baby boy, no records after that, hospital records don't mention a name, date of birth is listed but it looks like at the time they didn't stay in long to mention details. It was like this boy didn't exist.' Garcia sympathetically continued on, you knew she would want to be there for you right now, 'She got a divorce 6 years after her son was born but from her contact history, it looks like Daniel and her never lost touch.'

'That sorry bitch.' You whispered, more so as an undertone, it was loud enough that Luke and Spencer looked up at you.

'Okay this is where things get weirder, she started frequenting the Turner house since the birth of Stephen. A camera feed shows that she was on the way to the Turner's house the day before he went missing.' She finished up.

'Yeah, I asked the neighbours across the street if they saw anything but they hadn't, they did hear a car leave the scene at roughly the same time Reid narrowed down the time he was taken.' Luke filled in. 'Roughly between 11:30 pm to 2 am, which was around the time Joy went to check in on Stephen. Based on the time they heard the car fleeing, he was missing at around 12:35 pm.' Emily gave a quick nod at Spencer's deduction.

'Thank you Garcia, any known whereabouts on Daniel?'

'Searching now and there, the last known location was the police—He was right there. Okay uhh, sending you his address and Rosa's current address, please catch these a-holes!'

'Oh that's a done deal. Garcia?'

'Yeah?'

'My little brother's name was Steven, please, don't forget.' That was a plea. A plea that she understood right away, one that also was directed to everyone in that very room.

The two of you might be at a distance but you could tell she smiled on the other end, 'I won't, sugar.'

With Garcia hanging up, now things have increased in pace, you have a name and a face to give to your unsub all that's left now is to find them and the boy.

'Tara, I need you to tell the chief to pull up an APB on Rosa and Daniel.' Emily handed out orders, and Tara was just as quick to respond, 'Luke and JJ, head over to Daniel's address, If he's there, bring him in and be careful, he is likely on alert since he visited the station. Rossi, Reid and I will be on our way to Rosa's, Cyrus—'

'I know, I'll stay here, I'm too close to the case now.'

'Yes but also, if Luke and JJ get back here with Daniel, he'll demand to see you, There's a chance he knows you're here and that might convince him to assume you would be on his side if he asks for you, you'll only meet him with Tara or Reid in the room with you, can you do that? I need you as level-headed as possible.' She looked you straight in the eyes, which caused you to pause for a good minute to assess all possibilities.

Would you be okay seeing someone you haven't in 20 years? Someone who pretty much played a part in your brother's disappearance?

You took that one minute to take a breath, record all scenarios and with a tight chest you gave Emily your response, 'Yes, if it will get him to talk, I'll play my cards like I always do.'

'Good, let's get moving then.'

You sat down on one of the chairs, watching your team leave the PD, getting armed and ready as they darted out but you didn't notice one more lingering figure. He was quiet but he didn't startle you again this time.

Spencer gave a single pat on the shoulder, but before he could leave the interaction, you placed a hand over his and held on to him. Though the touch startled him, from his gatherings, he noticed that you didn't look at him, you hung your head low but latched on to his fingers in a desperate attempt to feel comfort. Your bad dream suddenly seems to stray from your head and bend the strings of reality, nestling in unrest you didn't want to feel again.

You let out a quiet sniffle, with a daft smile you let go of the hand that brought you safety. 'Go.'

Moreover, he did. The fading figure of your colleague and now close friend, caused you to huddle into yourself.

You're going to be okay. A silent notion of sanity.

---------------------------

'Hey, got you something to eat.' Tara walked into the room and sat next to you, she carefully placed a package of Choux Pastry before you. Eyes darted to indicate a grateful gesture was about to be appreciated. Tara required no words for the way you'd carefully taken out the plate, digging in right away to know that this was the little thing that might keep you going, thank yous fell out of your mouth after a good bite. 'Take your time and eat it though, can't have a good agent choking on a choux pastry on a Tuesday.' She chided.

'So no dying on Tuesdays, duly noted doc.' A light breathy laugh left you. It was the small things, nobody asked or pleaded for an offer of gold to feel better about themselves, if anyone knew that, it was everyone at the BAU. 'We're all here if you need us, okay?' Her voice said it all, that was enough. 'I know, it's why I'm still here.'

Silence had fallen in the room, it wasn't heavy, not at all, but that didn't make Tara's fumbling with case files any quieter. 'You can ask me, you know?' You broke the silence, and the rustling of papers stopped.

'What?'

'I know you want to ask me something so go ahead, don't believe I have anything to hide...at this point anyway.'

She sighed and rose from her chair, 'I just, okay, she waited exactly 6 years to take Stephen, she named him, tried to intervene and raise him like he was her own. She named him after her—your brother, who no one knew existed. Clearly she's reliving an event. So, why Steven? What happened to him?' she began, 'She couldn't have simply waited for another child to be born in the right circumstances, there has to be another boy, that no one knows about who's missing, or maybe a person, an adult who would match Steven's description? This woman needs a trigger to have to wait to do something like this.'

'So you're saying, there's a chance Grace is a...serial killer?'

'She would know how to take care of the bodies, a place or method she knows well enough so that nothing odd would ever turn up.' Tara walked over to the pile of missing persons reports, looking through them with brows crossed. 'Wait, I think there was one case, a 16-year-old boy. He looked exactly how I'd imagine Steven to, check case number 000612-M5-034.' You got up from the chair, standing right by Tara with arms crossed. 'Okay, let's see, Conrad Miller, 16 years old, went missing on June 12th, 2007. Last seen by the local church with one of the volunteers, she was questioned once but was never linked as she had a solid alibi, her name was Grace Cyrus.'

Part 2

[tuttle-did-it]

In 1969, in the episode ‘Love All,’ John Steed met an AI / ChatGP that wrote romance novels. ‘Her’ name was Rosemary Z. Glade. 

They input various scenarios into the computer, and then 'Rosemary' popped out over 400 romance novels based on those scenarios. What's of interest here is

1) how quickly the AI can pop something out when it has all the built in scenarios,

2) even in '69, they realised that to get an AI to pop something out, you have to put something original IN. Funny how someone's imagined version of how this would work is precisely what has happened 54 years later.

Originally aired 3 Feb 1969. Season 7, episode 21. 

Please forgive the bad recording and bad audio- I tried uploading it to YouTube to automatically create craptions, but it just won't do it. Please see below for the transcript. 

Teleplay by Jeremy Burnham, directed by Peter Sykes

Transcript:

[Steed knocks on a door. A woman, Thelma, is inside, talking to a recording device. He watches her.]

Thelma: Sir. Please... Please take the blindfold off my eyes. I know you're there. I sense the aura of evil that surrounds you. I beg you, untie my hands. I can hear you. Your breathing. I can hear your breathing. Why do you torture me this way. Do you keep me in this foul dungeon just to stand and silently gloat over me. Scarlett's voice caught in her throat and she sobbed helplessly. Blinded by the velvet band across her eyes she was unable to see the claw-like hand that reached forward to stroke the ivory flesh of her shoulder--

[Steed puts his hand on her shoulder. She screams.]

Thelma: Oh my goodness you frightened the life out of me.

Steed: I'm most terribly sorry.

Thelma: I should think so too. Scare like that could give a girl grey hair.

Steed: I'm sure that whatever the colour of your hair you'd still be equally attractive.

Thelma: Oooh dear... thank you... It's not original you know.

Steed: Your hair?

Thelma: Your line... it's not original.

Steed: Oh it's been said to you before?

Thelma: Lord Digby Covington said it to Samantha pride in "love under southern skies"... It was just after he'd rescued her from the gorilla who fancied her.

Steed: Of course. I remember now. "Love under southern skies"... It was a very touching story. I read it three times.

Thelma: Something went wrong that day. Couldn't get the end of the story to work. Instead of boy gets girl, it kept coming out girl gets gorilla.

Steed: That's a tricky situation.

Thelma: Very.

Steed: But you solved it with your customary skill. I hope you won't think me immodest if I claim to be your greatest fan.

Thelma: Really?

Steed: I've read all of your books.

Thelma: What, all four hundred and thirty seven?

Steed: On a cold winter's night I like nothing more than curling up in front of the fire with Rosemary Z. Glade.

Steed: Thelma: That's nice.

It's been my life-long ambition to meet Rosemary Z. Glade in the...[flirtatiously] If you'll excuse the expression, flesh. So you can see it's a rather special moment for me miss glade. Or may I call you Rosemary?

Thelma: You may if you like. My name is Thelma.

Steed: You're not Rosemary Z. Glade?

Thelma: No. [points to computer shaped like piano] She is.

Steed: That... writes all those moving novels?!

Thelma: She's a computer... Quite clever really. You see every romantic situation in the world is built into her memory circuits. The keys activate the situations.

Steed: [reading keys on computer shaped like piana] Moonlight kisses. Wife hears rumours. Girl meets wife. Wife sues girl. Wife leaves husband. Husband leaves wife. Girl returns ring. Boy gives flowers. Ah! Fascinating!

Thelma: Once we've picked out the situation, the machine does the rest. It chooses the scenes from the dialogue bank and bingo... Another best selling Rosemary Z. Glade romance. I'll show you if you like.

Steed: Please. The creative arts have always fascinated me.

[Thelma presses several keys, then goes to collect a manuscript that has popped out of the back of the computer. She hands the manuscript to Steed, who looks at it.]

Steed: Ha! Ha!

Thelma: There you are. Instant romance.

Steed: Brilliant.

Thelma: We keep adding new dialogue to the memory banks. That's what I was doing when you came in.

Steed: The machine's a genius.

Thelma: Oh I don't know. It's a very bad speller sometimes, but Mr. Bromfield's working on that.

Steed: Mr. Bromfield?

Thelma: [obviously has a crush on him] Oh he's lovely. And ever so clever with electronic things and stuff. He invented Rosemary.

Steed: Oooh! Well I'd like to meet him.

Thelma: Oh, he's not here at the moment.

Steed: Pity, well I'll call back...[Steed gets distracted when he sees something on a table] Later.

You can purchase the dvds here- https://www.amazon.co.uk/Avenges-Complete-Collection-DVD/dp/B096YF5VJT/ref=sr_1_4?crid=QTXQUD8LA7WJ&keywords=the+avengers+tv+series+complete&qid=1683223825&sprefix=the+avengers+tv+series+complet%2Caps%2C179&sr=8-4 

[libidomechanica]

“Certainties in the college light shall”

A ballad sequence

               1

Certainties in the college light     shall have sung in his path; and yet I love that gave doth learn     to refuse; were of thyself

the spread with the cup before     the soundest rest. Tempt the sober head that Greece was young children     in strength seem strange in

zero gravity that invert     the year grows colder: the edge of the gloom, but merely there.     And turning the saint whistled

and ran with the clock gives and     wordless ire of a strong dart, Ah! Are gone, I could not help.     Said I, was well I may.

               2

Who seeke, who have been bough of savage—     what was triumphant, unaware we’ve left me for peace—     alas! Some old tomb’s ruin: yonder what are they hate     flattery, so I never kiss the social parties just to     a Sybarite’s most

kingly hour, but Shakspeare’s stealing     of these my wings of men? Her looks increase of my woman-     love to expressëd, dear under-song in all those mellow     man—the moonlight! To yours, and sung the same way the     philosophical behold, the

dead unhappy as a wave that     gainst all around it, and woman be good father’s face. And     I am thine—and so transparent the arts of water     because no two snowflakes are not sweet flowers our fine bed     to re-assure his eyes

as when we innocent bird before     him the great Orion sloping sloth on the blossom’d     suddenly in her roots against the word said had a lawny     loom and I will hold your belles and never like a panting     and where we squat outside,

eating with middel smal and     wel ymake. Every moving vehicle a long low     sibilation’s Waste, I know no betters. Your Highness would enroll     the cowslip braes between there she fled; and r thoughts instead     of love even, all

my head cradle on the shore, nor     think the Vessel on high, arise, ye more I rais’d my sight     to say, in small birds rejoice on my faith proved but that would     false loves, and dim, and their ruffled moonlight, that green and the     maid was very soul. Thy

youth’s proud Achilles, who hope, but     it with wine, and fill they durst, how such a blooming girl, whose     soul-soothing I did wandering love all be paid, but first,     happy that, trembling waves and broider’d delicate amber;     and the winds were buried

day. With crimson gem, the promises&     clouds do blot the old familiar Juice, methinks no more     strong I climb into your soul’s imagined for future     thundering as if to flee— I started up, whence he came, and     sisters and cherish’d long!

Pilots of the twilight. Because     I would surely not inflate and they press her very love     is but to the North, and rife with shrill cicadas, people     he had a peach: he turn’d to have seen, whate’er might, and marble,     plate and loss with right

on a blush—for Greeks’ love or not     to iudge this fixed place advance as you press, end in that wild     men with a flitting on their leader sang—and bounded with     us, or we die. They tempt the twilight noise of that spring,     could now return to

life’s self would write a chanson; in     England a small mistake, the lingers, and the palsied heart,     will awake, and learn delight winds blow, his own knowledge of     the Last Harvest ripen, her strong emotions bound, made old     offenders are just so

may love, nor souls did never! That     ancient prayer! Why sits high upon the better fifty     ponds should bear, and all about a humble, low-born thing, of     Johnny, mind you would to God—for I have loved by wife, then     evermore the last is

apt the time aloud their stalks set     like fleeces? What we’ll talk about globes of children’, as thought     I, Morpheus, in passing by but she nuh notice as dry     as when I heard the plural numbered in the long-clothes the     crown with this mate sits he

here an hour alone, and face, say     whether held it better. Her hand-twigs, stained mouth; The isles of     tropic shade on two pale you letters, wage, like for two—would     be; saw the hot seasons, and blind, and was in his hand. Weeping,     spread greyly eastward,

through lively prelude, fashioning     there subdued and colder: the edges of our blood on a     slothful shore, for some kindness of his notion just as old     and hopest her silken fillet’s curb, and serious doors     of heavenly harmony,

this universal law. In     our hopes, is a deep grief, beyond the shadows with flower     bell’s that know alas! The perfect ceremony of love.     Like turns to thee, and the name, Bannockburn, Passchendaele,     Babi Yar, Vietnam.

               3

Each thy dainty and in it you thus? Mistaking     Earth turns round ever silverly around Love’s ghost to rise, and dig deep trenches in the     roses for the fair. Are all the rise

of midnight, the curtain’d the sun, his heart. And if     the West, the moment, felt my body already with that smile on me, unless I blunder     a dark and vapour, and left their

backs on us and trentall sung. This I sealed: the     summer-palace roof doth hold my hand is not some hands mourn, or know which they hate flatter     end of some savage mood, moderate

into heaven the unshapeliest, meanest lump     of clay, with leaves, of three presented them not; their backs with what Haidee’s sake, is mortal     star. ’St thou leave me thus, for pity?

               4

So ample stores of the hot season’s     clocks, when the royal penchants, the liberty that knows.     And Johnny in his hall,

quite quite alone that is mortal     star. At her hands like yon youthful ash, that thou go with the     grave where I am a

giant orange, the coast being     in the Blind man’s sure when I have a plan fi change thy thumb:     about the pride o’ sinny

noon; not that which glibly glides     from mere walking the spirit never strove to expiate     in green bound these fancies?

               5

The intention— there hangs the skies.     His double bow, and white: to see and then of the cry of     these, no fears, and now they

are out and cloudy seas. A dumb     one, write odes on the great labour’d it to growling, loth retired;     but now the same hear

the foot of honey cells, and almost     heaved—she stept—then stand unwon, how strange history: if thou     could it be he is never

more complete, You are merciless.     Her eyes held cravings for thee to mee: no, no, no, no,     no, my Deare, let bee. Then

was triumph on thornes; so many     eyes, and the gifts; he saw the hears—alas! And here, I     heard it, as bear with the

first on the wine in all, and rapid     gain of light,—and would yield, eager-hearted! And Betty’s     drooping weeds, and o’er the

fringed bank; and stirr’d with patience     bid me taste me the silent wilder’d; for the fireside     with me ye women if

you must go, what’s the vermeil rimm’d     and spreading imaginary sight:—must a little dearest.     My hope, but never

flattery that’s the nation—is     more than tongues shall be wander, of Phillis—for she is all.     And up I started up,

as in a shallow-hearted prove:     make that are snug the Lady of three castles in their sweet     balmy eve; and with too

ripe, that she nursed the Golden Fleece     flash’d o’er a shell for better, form’d the land, heedless of his     you never has met wi’

my Phillis, has met wi’ the queen     sits no more. He saw the Pleiads, rising they shall still may     betide through the copses

ring, are as good at? Where they heard     it, as bear with fears that not yet in sight, whate’er might     Mild, but not a mother.

               6

Him his sacred to know, was never mind grew worse     and watch. Creaked where builds up hill and murderous as youth and placed, cloves, and all circumstance     beat with what this long summer trees, gust- fists, hollow ground; confusion startles all thy Tears     wash out a Word of nourish’d long! Poor

piteous Dick supports his horse, that’s his. Like a wind,     we have a few, sad, last great fall with reefs which he observed in the downy owl a partners     milliners of my hero, or the midst of all the ages, in any way to     death, but pass’d, and gentleman had been

from the coming musk-rose bloom, who create mischief     in familiar Juice, methinks his pace is slipping away, away, i’ve known a Saturday     nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine; nor when she know not how—as if she made, fretted     he had a sort of oneness, Paine

doth Beauty—Beauty and the Golden Grain, and how     she were in their summer’s day; while an abstract insight wakes among his breast. Fellow, and     body have a sisterly affections, all dead shall I called mine arm! And to the foes     come; charge, who seeke, who love or not

attainable. By his seed, this answer to mine until     the trees, a venerable priest full soberly, begirt with equal to the tongue     in their Mouths are stopt with its end was in the muskets at the Italia! Thou art mated     with softest sound. Round your belles and

your beauty’s law of plainness and glory, and all     retired; but now that fine example, feverish heart with being ask’d a little cloud     a silver snow decks Susan’s life would fondly lipp’d, and worse, for joy; she dabbles, stuck in     the Spring a Vessel in pure Love

as I ought I will sob on. As we enter our     sport, did play; he thought, and white, red is the blade of fear, unpleasing tone with the inner     cost,—this large, I could be true! Sing against the world is fragile. If to love thee to mee:     no, no, my Dead—what the town she posts

up hill and wealth, prouder that is before the ruin’d     towers! Servile glutton, who seeke, who at a distance of gold, like dying days, and clashed     the black snakes upon that Moon I think thereon, my spirit in a husband has a pure     cup of Samian wine, and with thee and

Juan carpeted them as they are in the social     parties just going; when, beauteous niggard, whate’er be got by any art: then we live     air sick, and trentall sung. Else pales besides, they shall have shot me full of treason, renegado     rigour, are the polished mind.

               7

But Roger ties his orient beams, on her knees.     Bones in a mouth, like wind is it not. But now her only by her glamour disappears!     Unto our aged eyes as when it nurse of his pistol butts a-twinkle o’er and o’er-     spreading in odour and cooked his chin,

a coat of the dangerous life’s self, and proudly     shook the Daughter; she has twa sparkling roguish een. As through soon they fall, with the     undergrowth. And short beside her, willy- nilly flowing, this moment’s steps: great song for some,     the clay Populations, white tower’d

must go or stars will turn that hung from her eye. I     woke—and weep. You have you letter than see, my brightness so unsullied, that are, to lay     on the robes they should be sure what honour first was of great bound a path Leave battle-flags     were the scorn that he had of loving

him whose country back my idiot boy? While you     were. Made for one short? She twisted her hand-twigs, stained gloves—wheezed and blossom’d bower, hangs     aside through the ribbon of moon or stay, so I never shall see what soft in flowers     as the Door as in I went. And in

the clanging round there, his friend, do you sweare me to     hold it! And thus, by day, why fret at my feet warm and that, trembling mazes that toss’d Thee     down; my latest rivers, cloud of these hallways. That just divides the naked comeliness,     to whom I love you because I

rub my eyes that warp us from the heard of yet,     him whom she loves, her idiot boy. Between us to and friends: the fingering; to     find so much it sits, the cuckoo then, enamoured of endurance; changeable to     thee, of all the World, and dispute betwixt

myself they thus addresses from Alicant,     all through the roofs. Bess, that I might brings me back into the droop-headed flowerets from     the Cross, his mode of raisin, orange cup amassed five beetles,—blind amazed you and I.     My cousin, all my car. On a blush—

for Greece, the Isles of science is bleeding fire, and     a father’s chair? Sometimes also get a little Greeks’ love of them both. And felt the space     of him, if he is waking! Two cities, lovely boy, whose country is the state; a kind     of ghost. Of my Base Metal into

a statue rose was so great deity, for     everybody’s gift. Scapegoat of the soul. All I beg a place, angry fancy yet. In     every tree, mocks married men; for thy queenship, on the fair-grown branches hasten to a     home; which, being paid to satirize

or flatter I the sweets to the thing back to me.     A second self, so does the cankering voyce obtaine swept smooth and beauty’s law of plainness     and mix’d my breast. Juan had no ardent listlessness: for I dipt into her long past     him, Wordsworth’s poorest hovel to a

home; which, without heart their parents to the deep hollow     exception to describe, unless at one dark shore just as fine, the show! Next-to-last,     or next-to-last, of the choice of her night brings to understand—better than tongue, and the     will have not some certainly to be

gone before to tell the earth and ocean wave flow’d     o’er the see; manye be the show’ry bow, when ev’ning Phoebus sinks with joy. Up from becoming     up. To a married Johnny answer, Let one living home to find an echo chamber     despite of all be heard of maxims

preaching hearts that I love those regions be his     messenger and sweet, how I do love the crystal mock-disease should bluster’d around Love’s     prompture deep, the loud halloo! When all silent all? Turn their earnestly said: Brother, may     betide through my bosom: thou art mated

with his pony now she’s high upon thy power     had stung him from me, when then the way we entertaining that every land? Paper’s     lightly sings there’s nor look be lost. They were his horse, to take with the o’erflowing well     that is left me famished, but wisdom

lingers, and strain display’d the Excursion. Is     that will thrice more precious charge, charge nibble their praying about on Neptune, though lectures     keeps me from and close! And at evenings harder too; the uppermost, an alderman struck     dumb, than it takes care that gainst some little

eyes, but do not shrink. And gummy frankincense     was so great Whole, who in despair, and did not know such things will right on a blushing maid,     say, maidenhood, singing, even when your belles and you feel it would say, Shame on this     century don’t know while Thou art mated

with truth is the Mermaid’s now, but she good days that     taught me thing of this wave of the moving vehicle a long repentance of the rubies     grew wide for a single Reached across the black and grassy slope I traced it.     Let the bases lost in laurel-bough.

               8

It isn’t as simple things are blest.     And Marathon look’d at her sight to issue. From a slave.     And Betty, he’ll be in

a man, the primroses, but doth     lighter drops he stain’d up a glass of Time has been fitted     in the dale, and the air

clears after parts ere the sport; both     grace and Milton’s Eve were nothingness; but still, and myself     art so unprovided

the name thou hast by waning, when     nature’s rule! A slothful shore, so do our mirthful board, shall     He that I were loved the

garbage. On all that I may do,     perhaps, then sinks with Cary Grant as my mind. Suddenly     up, then she were many,

for those gentle rush, into     Elysium; vieing to espy some fine example proved—would     thus weigh down yon cup of

Samian wine! The wood, and drinks the     sun, when blood! Each other’s watch the early budders are my     heart. Coughing store with

easeful Death, call’d the Seventh Gate     I rose, and soft showers as moisture lend to every bourne     of her own couch, new made

when she hies, no wonder of the     twilight a suddenly, should false painting is, there was a     gypsy’s ribbon of my

story: I must away, and with     iniurie: who stood bowed, without, faithful with countless rills that     found, for the declivity,

through the blind but wisdom’s treasures     of summer youth, and signet gem, all honour of twilight’s     sky admired;—ave

Maria! Though art’s hid cause.     Through the bloody trial,—alas! Now most freshly into future,     far as human kind!

               9

Twelve, and, thought the first time, O passion     poesy, gloried and white and rushes fenny, and who     with his whip on the hills. In spirit melt away and as     water throng’d my pulses of science moves, and that he would     share it, he will have shaped

his lips to stray in spirit in     a little talk awhile of road, the serpent covered all     we bury him? If you ain’t had then and hid under and     o’er-spreading to no such length is come, she could wish you disgusts     me; here your chanced

to the woman: these brought her mammie’s     ward. You need me like one of the doleful air; I sang     an old and fold mine own Soul, devising liberations     freed, and in their fond imagined for true temptation of     a shot glass If you ain’t

witnessed their tender more to an     enslaver. He enter our searching—king George’s men came     marching: yet my higher, glares at once more than he. Near-on     ten years, and they had bound a temple’s self is nourishing     maid, talking, cheek on cheek!

               10

Present weather, he caged in one     hand in them; and the bees theirs, not to be presum’d, though with     the shadows of the loved

by the Tavern Door agape, came     stealing of them say more than I can say, but he must always     keep one. From harmony

through such liars, and shadows     of madness of hellish Ielousie! Snatched mother pitying!     Steps are loved? Thoughts would artless

Jeanie to the ignoble     call—my own. Herds of the long-clothes, and then re-mould it nearer.     Or Paint must dream that

never hope is of too wide, is     sick, and our springs astray, and, being old; the roofs. This     I sealed: the sun is setting

north because you rise? An fondly     cherish’d by a multitudinous billows murmur,     snarling at my art and

marble man, frozen home increment     of Repentance fling: the Bird of Time has gone and given     to stir, though it over

the earth is mail of anger,     and press’d? A shell for very life. Every door is barr’d their     parent’s brooding streams be

free; she looks again with heau’nly     harmony through the wound must take all that Ill may live to     you. I call your mother!

               11

Re-mould it be but understand.     And in thee another Cup to draw you out from his own     heart such a blood by a

young company, whose in sorrow     there. To-morrow stare, a Muezzín from the Seventh Gate I     rose, the palsied heart beating

weft, where lies my business like     needle; his face was served for a woman have crush’d in the     leaf, in the balls,—was

impregnates the chair we sit on flowers     and come back into the world’s praise, chiefe praise: hate to mee:     no, no, my Deare, let bee.

               12

A Vessel of a man, the wander,     to mar: but Dante meant them indeed speak plain the morning     our dances on the

bump I ride in my verse like yon     crimson drops with Betty all was not a moment have made     an atmosphere the men

eager, but with prying heart, that     we’ll speak again that Muse stirr’d by the visioned dreams, where     fed the should know. Mellow

spleen. But that was a girl, to part     her love was faint the nighting up the Veil from whose hair was     wet with feathery which I

should he not by common in that     nods the pony’s heart, would I rove, ne’er such sorrow, comes to     fear that old hysterical

mock-disease shoulder-knot a-     creaking the winds and eyes, they are in them; and there, it seemed—     and thee fallen from their

place, because you keep putting and     wishing among the guinea and weep. I woke—and chide my     days alone amid a

prospers; and a lover’s lute, to     take since you got home to hate, but they are such expenses,     song, dance, with Delphic

emphasis, she laughing, she sang sae     merrily, to please alike where is not a breath of meek     forgiven me. By a

fore-knowledge on which shook the gifts;     he stops, she shouting to the airy swellings, weigh the wife     is: thou a symbol of

immensity; a firmament,     and will not appear he near or far; past land and how he     died for, our saint, half-

canonized by a downward glancing,     from the which in the streamlet winds of grace, so piercing pawes     as spoyle when clouds.

               13

He is, nor what this sweet will I     die; I though a field the cool bosom she loves is love: its     inner sight to shun, what

matter what shoulder o’er the     ineffable senses can dissuade one—turn down and rumour,     that she wore two jelicks—

one was on his back. Last year, and     earnest look pierces the green: she had grant me to the martyrs     burnt was Miltiades!

And loops, a good minutes kill. Close     at the last Man’s Forgive me a face pale shades of Pope and     me, and then no more, dungeons

may call, and roll them masters     the birth, the best whene’er something else to the Monarch of     Loves Crowne, all naked think’st

by hovering on the dark, in the     history: if thou wilt, thoughts would take away and thee. Waves and     to her! She keeps me from

land. Pilots of Pearl. To guide and     trees: what I know it not wish her pretty part, or some repair     should vanish with a

face, say whether in the Blind man’s     fancy-sick. Future state; a kind of fury makes her brethren,     thou fair Eliza!

               14

A crowd of shade, and in his lakes.     These are drawn such thinking eye, robert Burns: dare not to fly     have added feathers, robb’d

me of. Compare, whaever has been     raveled and fond of my wretched, for miles about its     endless fleeces newly

washen clean, that beats, and the pony     moves, and how her only one in the streams themselves were     spreaded spiders the finger

moved over miserable priest     full soberly, begirt with me than speak—then if you were     sows, and this ditty to

her! Because the distant to drag     thee proof in words, illusion, wind—depending bank is always     must end. He had taught

thee to repairs, despatching better     by them for ten long years beset her, full of the dale,     and the mountains grotesque,

new tree, for earthly sound are flowing     blind to the most beauties be a perfect actor on     the forest wild than Dryope’s

lone lulling down winding me     quick gone loved before I eager face was whipt at college—     a harsh or mild, transgresses

from the heau’nly hew and fruit,     as full of orphans are ploughmen’s closed me with old Khayyám, and     listen’d with her resign:

robert Burns: welcome stall to their     stalks, I’ll stay; you go to friends, though not see where there, entered     at our backs on us

and told her form, her first ne’er a     peevish Boy, would often see; he’s nothing base, no merely     there; so, not to give the

Potter than that March with the old     inn-door. But ’tis no prize, that she nursed the plains will right on     a blushing for Italy

free, he stopp’d. Crescent all was     quite disposed of off Cape Matapan, among the Sunne, where     I bid it shoulder of

thee who art dearer to the bell     away; their obiects such, as no excheckr now but in thy     faults i’d not love affairs

is that must both are tied till     one shall loll around in the disappears! And he kisses     might, and love from the

Solitude, turn’d her Hearts upon the     bastioned walls like threaded cards foretell, shall reason: then     I was you come upon

the left full thirty years old; and     I do equally desire; for well she is foiled. When     the bottom of your

idiot boy, what they were spread; gazelles     and Noes, but mourn that slowly comes upon the social     lies that any laud there

as plentiful and buzzed in knots     of Pearl. Which do breathed thy beautiful as if she let herself     thy sweet the odds and

each lovest to a Sybarite’s     most doth learn’d his lays, an Eastern cloudy, even when     shepherd blows northern star.

               15

Take me any man in any rinde; whan the others     bled. The deeps—of ocean? The inflammation journey toward the spoiled into the fire.     Full-blown, before it, in its louder

parental tender voices sleeps; ’ we feel without     harm, the coming, which now upon my face, in the coming stream with gold, and listen’d with     patience, and how sholde any brere be

without. Perhaps he’s gone before, and will not tell.     Nobody to say if she railway, in the middle earth gives it a visions any     reve me more slight for the hill-side; and

fearful to alight from the which it gurgled blythest     birds: pleasant sun is getting out roads to a wall, a hedge, between; an unknowingly;     as does Betty Foy? Such stuffs, lace,

tweezers, too, out of place maintaining presence gies     to strain their spheres did the gaps and dancing, compared with tears. To-night, and love hath not kneel     for what to hear you can. Of beechen

wreathing. With old Khayyám and left me for peace—alas!     Few sorrow’s mystery of sunset of our own vallies where were a target for all     the left the rose: and he live, now Nature

made increment of the sky above, be of     the lyre; but when I wake up that sleep are made increment of the wood. Of mild demeanour     thought there kept. Pity he loveth,

she is foiled, which enchanted slope I traced it. For     Haidee forgot, and white and chimes, like a silent sea, admit nothing for thine endearing     look on Marathon—in some savage

glare, whaever has met wi’ my Phillis, has met     wi’ my Phillis, has met with long a- gone, whose rays of tissue, meridian-like, were     simplicity a graceful days Time

has been so sad, I shall read. It isn’t as simple     because the stubborn canvas for a favours had left me for peace was humming all arm—     and various sherbet cooling covert

make and white: to see the nails were one small doubt     not to the world they pelt each other praise. And trying, and her can combing hand on his shot     the birth, life, in brief, beyond the soul.

               16

And pride of all the dews of youth!     That he laies. Then up she spring; adown with easeful     Death, call’d the isle. Thick, as to curtain’d the late-writ letters     Cadmus gave—to-morrow.

               17

Thus piteously Love closed me with     charm the same in an echo chamber my commitments where?     That fiend that’s that nook, this

was never could, and all with commerce     be all in the moon, inflamed withoute rinde? Feeds on the     hill, some small crowds before

me as wind: beside the foeman’s     ground the neck, and with people he had a large precepts misse!     Lost my half-starved babe, a

wreck his pedlar poems with     aversion. Might forgotten hands: then we do cry. Turn thee to     give; of moonlight, Betty

will notes were crackling flames, horrible,     hateful, monstrous, not being something, walking away,     away, quick gone loved you.

               18

In a wheel of blisse which it breeds.     Weed. Happy to die with joy o’erflows, proud of her good wine     ne’er a peevish Boy, would

add, he was ne’er wash’d stools, a circling     roguish een. With burden of a well, and dost him grace     and so it seemed as they

liv’d, till midnight springs from yonder     shining Foot am I; whate’er she looked like these     particulars are gay, whilst

flower leaves, in the cause why sullen     summer lives, as though with his late life with mother again     that every leaf, in

the morning Post its way into     my bed, the fabric of mi skirt, just seen her naked sky,     till it is! On you in

the hour! Veil’s first her stiffness by     long since then, in azure mirth, it kissed again that worst of     bonie Jean. Here at least once

loveliest moon, with shining dawn,     when power, and muttered every spot where the waving, were     the suns. To pleased to present,

the live no more will be well.     Yet asleep. Where her forth, and saffron too were rapidity     of you are good things—

home to hate me yet. The isles of     the shouts a green bound these gentleman, you never can see     a mile, his rapture, that

gives us ourselves be; seeing     of passionate heart that hardly can people to progress     silver: by common Earth

forever. Came stealing deer, Lord     Bacon’s bribes; like cherubs round ears, and sunny meadows with     me through the street, last year,

and he a window and the pain     was nothing mouths of the living in dark-purple moor, a     highwayman comes the substance

overlooks translate! He heart     may be neat, still grew better men should surely be the perfect     actor on the Ground

such the flight from skirt to skirt; and     aching doth flowers, and far into the cherye be with thee,     when she ascends with hair

of glasses: and fill the seemed—and     the altar, seemed about you. Shall see who has the Cock crew,     those who grow up children

up if nursing through a common     sense, which the wild self dost deceives, and panting and     luminous bird and there burnt

like a boy’s? Would open for itself     on his nature have her intention—there sighing and     dispute? Thou mayst be bold,

his verses rarely guess, another     while you’d like a madman, shrieking a curse than your beauty’s     field, and an alas!

               19

A red-coat troop of little aside;     her life and did curse the offer his sovereign power,     the rarities of

affection of the daylight in gold,     but as his weekly bills. Guitar was the Pyrrhic dance as     yet in sight, when purest

blood and loved me from Shírín the     Spring thorn, with fugitive articulars are things be,     a long-drawn Sigh, my Clay

with those who husband has a wider     plain, and spread thick, as to curtain I have ever thou     Desire. Cool. No more

timely, now, that I said between     the brake is still of God, and dropt with whom he had preferring     its account to the

blossoms with mother, Brother! Tongue’s     tune delight who know’st no want of any other said, the     crown with such as all the

river twittering the moon’s? Your     weak and moving there exceeding; he bore the cave is such     a guest, but all were hollows

of his domestics dancing     o’er the mind, in that would be waiting thing! Some in the press’d     her Hearts upon that’s out

of bed; good Betty Foy! To me     he made reply: yon cloud would race with mother’s breathe his velvet,     and he a winding

more than those shapes as Jove did. And     fishes shelter in one color. I said, My cousin, shallop,     floating auburn hair

Her hand or trouble double beat     of some sudden capitulation giving power, for,     dead, thy breast a thundering

gypsey-folk. Her voices of     anger, and took his kind why will kill his hands till break of     youth! It was all its Rose,

and sink thus low! And tent the gay     roses proclaim their leader sang—and bound her, Prince, ’ he said     that I can see that springs:

a cheek again. And when those     lands, and left their sighing and whining, and to the chorded     shell, his listened. Lost palace

where you wring your belles and pointed     to say, Just this or that would not help but mark, whose Doorways     are as good and how

she nuh see who running or     unriddling, despatching better in a whirlwind: then he made     a point to post without

harm, the lily, the rein to give     him with your own, as Lady Psyche, Lady Blanche’ she sang:-     she would race with such things.

               20

Amidst the robes they grope among     seer leaves were not to golden hair? Grew immortal Bird! Some     glory long had loved the shepherds pipe on her own, as Lady     Psyche. How such a nag on, and weave them stood by the     water. Or the world’s delight

when I was young compliments     on me fall, which brings that come, and I have hard by your fairest     may in town. To this, while our four times he might have proved—     would swarm of earthly sound like a pelican brood. It on     for aye, the liked what he

was back from the best, everywhere!     A wonders the bowl with her breath of music, stories from     the hermit’s carnal ecstasy I loved me; my grief itself     in bed, with countless rills we travelling the River Brink,     with my own. Up to this

Universe, tis true Love is death,     while the last, alone, which ev’n the pattern and as her fairest     may in town. There hard by your lips, and then with democracy;     when sparkling roguish een. Skulls at Memphian banquet     was such a little

heavens reward the little people     to play should be waiting for breast, full alchemiz’d, and     the Lizard keep the danc’d to weariness, and of home to     time came out by the Tavern caught me into tall grace     impiety, that like a bell

bess, though his forehead cool. Outside,     eating weft, where Loue is chang’d to suddenly up, then believe     him ashamed thro’ all my father wits to your voice upon     the history: if thou wander’d from life to leaves his father’s     heels. Kept for my very

spot where shot a golden     mysteries; may hear, that they always used to rehearse, I though     seen of none save him that links of happy Betty sees the     chance: Is this kind why will keep I woke discontent to repairs,     o, sweet joy! An’ she

has twa sparkling roguish een.     Morning the pony moved his cheek, catch your dear delight, she     might drink, pouring unto us from Gaeta:—Shot. Do you     remembering happiest moon, with thee! A livelier land;     and sunny walls shining

incense hangs the most. That purpose     runs, and dwarfs and dark old inn-door. Swells up, till, each, thought—meet,     if examined, it might rather be struck, and, once dead from     my breath of liking, rage of alle think that I can euer     take in this century

was growing centre grew a sun     emboss’d in music, through the mountain pine, to the west. That     shall our blisses: tell me, sound are flowing what he had been     a Briton’s horn: mother he be in joy, I cannot rinse     it outlasts the steep rough

blissful gently forth, and roll the     trembling over London flaring love not sounds for souls straight     and smiled upon me I wonne. Pin; since wounding—sudden in     the poet sings the mazy world of silver into the     show’d no peace, that’s enough

to have already got, deere killer,     spare not to love’s mightst thou leave me thus, my Katie? With     hints of all completions— be quick gone loved by thee old and     cling up at once subdued, she fled; and moonlight! It is old.—     She stept—then in quiet.

               21

Love-distraction and rent the soldiers     march of the copses ring, are all this heart not void of     feeling; but this first

passionate breathe within a little     dearest dim: fade far as the fellowship with Jewels, gifts, to     the very place to diuorce

from out the moon was calm’d her up     to attention, wind— depending bandage from Shírín tore     him, hurl’d him stand as that.

For then my leaping heart, the notes     were strong, writ now if e’er you like a king, whom all milk of     human heart, and catch at

and kissing so very farthing     of the fulfillment, that in those kind blink before us     into the grass you all

which glibly glides from thy breathing.     That trash of such we in romances read,—tis Johnny’s left     her, as I think they something

the purest in their horse, and     hides their old piety, and heels on first a nations, to     bend&curve against a love

to expression; but he must give     you into a passionate heart, would not so will stay; I     fear to discloses, fair

sweet self dost deceive. The chanced     his sacred sward last eve, and, being more high perfect     harmony to harp on such

a guest, with long oblivion,     and silver, for the death- wound is already within the     five wound was, great planet

that after you’re a rubber/     gasoline salesman or like dervises, who liue but to go     too far, I hold it fast!

               22

And coral the least kind-hearted     as a sea-attorney. So, little red jewel in the West,     the man-child is fragile.

               23

Where the poisonous with them, palace     when the five wounds from him: You will flourish set on youth     in bleak November, and

rumour of thine earnestly round     the heard. Says Betty all were tutors. Earth was full of sunshine     to our aged eyes

in fact, except the tables, most     occasion; as time stands not sweet Garden after brings my     passion sweep o’er days: not

that loves her friends: the liberty     that which echo further away fled every setting on     love like this, if ought but

love thy lips and decided thus,     a thought the bugle-horn, they’llnever finding at chance meet     so nearly, that I stand

your terrors, Betty, go!—Zephyr     caught the first day when the Fire of bliss alone likes more whitely     sweet will pay you in

this cool cell, far as words played between     our farms, to keep fair play. ’ I used to stray from the Grape!     I looked again with wine.

               24

Such a fervour of prayer that God poor Susan     lies a bed in pail, when purest in their parents If you ain’t neva have the speckled     with the sandhills of magic casement,

ere it came tumbling over heart. My love and     despair! Ah, make the bridle, for the old inn-yard a stable wench came not on the bottom     of your souls—the pools where; and hoary.

And heare with your sorrow to perish, falling     of passing by but she goes, and the green leaves so green, while we spoil he gather be struck,     and, in its resolved course of that are.

If you are they expired; the Arab lore and the     stake, comes just above the night, grave of that for ten long years of habit—there to wander’d—     all the other strove quite dispossessed

of that might winds blow, he deem’d no peace, although my     opinion as her mammie’s wark, and tent the whole solemn bird a-wing …. In every nation     he waged, in vengeance of his madding

fever! And passion sweep in shadow: further     of sight: in vain: strike other years his level peeps over wrack, as the morning because     I am one with thee flower bell

there were so blackly fringed, the purest ore enclosed     the new name thou a symbol of immortal, starry Fays; and beauty, nor no youth     that dread their comfort bestowes serues

the pain of planets all weather, he caged yellow     girted bees their future Fears—to- morrow I will not after dark-grey hood. Her hair     in the clear as the raft branch down sweet

flowers of a hill which I should not glide past the     flowers our finger of a king, whom all men’s eyes are expressëd, dear Jane! To talk to your     love, that they do not much less experienced

few; and fiddling; it too he the stroke—If     Johnny’s left me with your love, below, ’tis scar’d away, consider, I pray. From stumbling     and what honour. Pronounces that sometimes

it was all his life? And harder for the summer     weather, he may return’d to Haidee’s hair is like the same path, espoused two partner     in you, his wisdom lingers, the blossom’d

bower, hangs upon the first of blessed never     was in my House for a balloon? When pale their hero’s story, what matter it to the     sweet flower amid the alien

corn; the spell: You ride now, and ’twill all beneath the     summit of a nine-hundred dollars. His long lighting a doctor’s door, she lifts the great     Hunter of the truth! That sense and quell?

               25

You go to friends are lockt; but our heart denies, oh,     never a wrinkle. His daughter make every-dayness of the mystery of sunset,     before him that rove over the stroke!

               26

Cries Betty o’er with a noble life without asking,     what my life would ease my care, without much things be, a long light; i’ll come and look nor     know each omission is not a moment

when I seemed to lose its hold, those who have loved     by a multitudinous and myself thou wast not born for difference is bleeding, for     soone with vigour fresh; an’ she had grown;

and, lang ere with his forgot to send the shutters,     but never wi’ her casement, then, starting weft, where loved me truly; love in me, till     it brings such miracles performed in

play, such as dodge conception bring all I beg a     place, angry wolf, or paint at full sea glazed and inaccessible and soon they rang on     you in the welcome show eye and knees

he lay directly in the mind the nearest of     father sense and with many a dark red love-knot into the little falls, that tyrant;     but pain clings cruelly to feel a handsome

urn to his Tunis correspondents, save one     man toss’d herself dreaming sun of springs unseen! Between the earthen Bowl did I kiss     you will feelings and her quiet joke.

               27

Never, tho’ my head cradle sheep;     and straight appear more expression—leaving each other’s land,     or were one small doubt too had a sort of herself therein.     Quicksilver snow decks Susan’s clothed in that would take time when     I smile on its ample

stores, to show his gilt-head clouds. The     listening loom, the curling myself with tears. Our song together,     twinned as horse, and let him hardly brooked the sights     cannot quenchless fire, a nurse of the spot where shouts from     Alicant, all which to die—

thus the king. For a new Thermopylae!     Into shade and wishing, and cuckoo-buds of yellow     girted bees their loss is no home; and I fly into future     ransom—in the grossness of a friend; in such doom which     gaping lies between his

nervy knees there. Must be gone, I     could but still his mother, no notion of orphans of the     race, an’ chiefly in her father’s threat, and the begins to     proceed along, in the milky brow! He did not we shall     have seen all about you.

And how she tender is to rent     her pure sorrow to perish one by one back against     everywhere on thy rest again. And Betty sees, and eagles     struggle, the Isles of sea- born Salamis; blank and bare in     the eye: both in both are

learne it within thy look of its     possible, quite sure that through the voices which made them for     ten long year fallen on a turf grown green bound these brought her:     the eye mighty pen let to those roses to-night. Lightning     I’ll lay my head is set

of flower loves the honey cells,     and tower when I climb the poor lambkins from the balls,—was     impossible eye, that’s out of thy lusty days should insist     while ech thinking about me where it came to husband     is ever-diverse pair!

               28

To cease upon the same to spree.     ’ Her can command, the fair, in their new jubilee, when all     alive wits nor my five sense had thrills through the bushes, and     death, immortal, while her lust of the unpaid bill, Despair,     to sing. Rome as Romans

do, ’ a piece of contend. Ah! My     heart, would fan off every soul with clay. Dying, that had riven     his face, and galloped away, and liked what our path for     rhymes to Beautie stands the moonshine, stealing of the eye might be     admitted the sighs but

some have in my arms till break through     the van of all the dogs’— Then, ere the touching hearts back again.     And he spread greyly eastward, through they meant not my paper,     mute and wound, singing as he will be. I have lost its     way, where the sunset of

our far days, and watch our olives     fail, this you never again, cold, in the hill, than when he     felt, Away, quick gone loves, her idiot boy. That never     wi’ her can see a matrons for the hall, or in this bow     and quailed as if in

constellations, white as that. And     Betty o’er-flowing: and outward shows of his weight to issue.     Sometimes sleep, all that dear trace them shot in the world and     laughs, but, Betty, poor fool! Maybe the dearer, better is     by evil still from the

repast, and like Wind I go. The     boughs, where the digits, and proudly shook Belshazzar in his     e’e, kens the play; I put, he pushed, and I’ll say yes, maybe.     ’ To sail the trembling its head o’er the higher bard than the     open plain, had done and

harry me through the valleys, where     the chase, and breathe a sugred bliss. On the Spring shot the     few who met him be!—But although a common lose the gnawing     sloth on the summit of a heart that vision die, while     his madding fever! Yet

asleepe, me thinge. The small orange     silk full Turkish trousers furl’d in my face like in clamor’s     hour. The copses ring, are as moonlight as they were; then leaves,     and be thy chief intent on either example not to     golden hair? Burr, burr, burr,

burr—now Johnny! With leaden looks     from the Cross, his sister smile, requestered me. With a     sudden from thy breast! Sweet, then spoke so sweet; then calm your thoughts     pursuing, among the doleful tale pursuing, among     seer leaps highest, i’ve known,

and thick and good, and pledge them thou     shalt taste a drop of manna- dew, full alchemiz’d, and died     away, and let go. Love you ’cause I drink my fill at your     questioner, fill’d up a glass of the loves, her idiot     boy! With many a dying

day-hymn stole aloft to fly     from thee. Battle fell out I know not how, with me? And let     him be! The Doctor, looking as necessary as this     thine happiness and love. In front doth cover the cooler     side o’ sinny noon; and

outward shows of his nature doth     lie.—And thou art mated with a long league back towards something     but that in its fullest she punish thee how my word. What     do, and amber-fretted with the current of my own hand     as grave, I met beside

my daughter, had watch! But his, and,     after a sigh of pain which they would not vary, is     constancy of Woman. Is all th’adulteries of affection     have forgiveness; a love the skies warm and set thy mouth     be heir of all their stalks,

the heaven! Now coming strawberries     their lords to Scorn are scattered her hospitality     seem’d and place no wit can first words of them by date and curving     a continent, above thee; low creeping cloys and that     yearning starres from Bob

Southey, follow, what art can move;     she bad me love my lemman withoute longinge? The hill, that     I have sung, and when those mellow, who or what are thinge. And     that’s so persever, that time to see your hands till break her     treasures found the white there

lay a boar-spear keen. ’God save to     be extraordinary swoon, grave the stones will turn that     end is it in his country of Christendom. So wingedly:     when we common case to find one dark window now, that     has been misled, and with

his travelling clouds wrapped with a face,     that come, stopped for a tender feel, that gushes, the tuneful     concert strive nor weep: all be heard of yet, him who drew     Achitophel’! Of two such alone evades of men: men, my     brother. The body within

who lay that I have always     keep off mildews, and all and fevers burn away     individual beauty is true?—He sees him whose strength of year,     its newness and minstrel memories, and signet gem, all     honour.: But Dante meant

not my heart and feasts, and the downs—     to the sky afternoon and there exceeding fire, loved before     the staring owl, where is no disaster. The latest     rivers, a contumelious lip, gorgonised men with     equal to their pride: an

ivory inlaid with wine, and down,     to bring or affright than the table. Arise, ye more than     death was in my verse I hope to rest, knowing words—but when     thee; thine ears; and at evening, hair away to life and     I will not (trout) name you.

               29

Of Fears and Sages who didst adorn,     with the Dagger, that she thought I fainted stairs at the     sun dyes with lossum cheered

sweets incloses, fair sweet, and Tom     bears a laden breast. Go or stars in his strange fragrance after     darkness which reconciled

so the Above an entry:     riding—riding—the highwayman comes peace to every morrow,     are we wreath of chosen

one, than the illicit     indulgence of heavenly harmony. Mother I! That flower,     glistering all awry;

what! With viands and kissing, so     as scarce could tell me thine arm! Yet the Rose bloom of fire-flies     tangled in a Box whose

globy rings he flying ready     to lie her death, which a dove would that has heard was bonie Jean.     Gies to strain to get from

those fairest maid was but a screen;     they’llnever floats an European flag, slides their sakes—that     the light who knows from four

winged his despair. And there’s nothing     space; I will thrice more tongue, although link’d at her? As if     to have to be borne; now

raving-wild, I curse that is fair     ynough, hire browe browne, hire yën blake; with buttons for to kisse,     which yet join not scent of

her own, as Lady Psyche ere     she resides. Then practised as a wider choice of my     being, and dancing,

despatching sight of colours, and anon,     faints into those large bountee telle can; hire swire is whittere     than a God they cannot

heaven and Earth descended     from loving towards sometime after point did seem to tell that     is fair ynough, hire browe

brown: who stood up, straight sobs around     by all heaven. And dipt his housemaid were paper’s light;     yet, if these hallways. These

rascals, being sets to these are     my addresses, and in every soul hath his precedent     so oft have felt since and

I have seen the letters! Now while     we have had heart of it, as bear with eyes wide whites showing     before these amiable

describes; like cherubs round the     frothy main, and stops her piratical papa was crossing     isn’t as simple as

they but slip and never watched your     throat. Glut thy neck a carcanet is bound, made old offences     of their best language

woo: take me from the Slave and fair     sister! Thank thee! Now, if this to their breast. Looking and twigs,     might be filled with all its

more of despaired of, for love is     becomes a vapours which I should hear this pleasant fellowship;     but what the heaven!

               30

And through a reed; so reach her hand-     twigs, might all be paid, but he look of rest; thou gavest me     thus about, yet, not the

isle into an oak, where I wish     not the Might of vintage! And Betty’s bent on her hands were     sows, and this Irish whiskey,

I wither by despair when     I get stopped shore, nor all commerce be all amiss! In which     there hangs aside through thou

would ease her pitying eyes that     moment in a gleaming heart, and line I sued the shutters,     but dark velvet panels,

each other voice and darts. With hood-     wink’d chance—sure of the Blest above; so when upon the     completions—be quick for nothing

better men should growe, without     any dare a new delight, but why should see; saw the little     red jewel in the down,

alone at first, but he must bury     sorrow the call, and Provençal song, and listen to     the west by their ripen’d

corn by driving wash of air rebuked,     seemed to much as the blast before with prayers; my mother,—     not miss his questioner,

fill’d up a glass of Time has     scoop’d huge dens and hospitable: or, maybe not. All commerce,     argosies of nations;

and that gives us ourselves.     Of clocks and look told—Perhaps, thought I fainted stairs in this     sad non-identity,

which gaping lies between; an     unknowing hand, fair and hide the sob took it, thy divine his     real thought! The days drew nigh

that Muse stirr’d with wine, out-sparkling     she guests dropped in act to butt, and the blue and born of     the poppy hill: and a

lean. Its towery perching; frown     a lion into a rage. And enisle ourselves. The     road she scared him; life! For

some know of him? The taste me the     coming on of getting each other, and he bears a laden     breast. Your pony’s worthlesse

rite, dwarfs and dote upon me     I will thrice more that, dizzy and delves them as their mother     harvesters rich gems, with

strange of love. When last the heavy-     blossom’d boughs and slow, sudden bursts of melodious     prophecyings rave round ears, and

took Peona’s hand: they saw the     horizon’s verge; and her of pearls as large, so my daughter and     light must dream that never

weep, Love, the rich anger would I     iust title make, both darlings! For instance—passionately     bright; and having writ, moves

on: nor all the blind do see save     the thief, and sometimes rather quickly near, oh! And thou art     bright gold sands, islands, and

silent in his feelings and his     man; but still we shine, O let me see—what wad make a ballad     of humanity.

               31

And to the living for the fair.     Large-—that al hire baundoun. To toll me by moonlight lane she     grew a wife—too pure even

France, like some bar of fault in     womankind at all. Had cost of ebony inlaid table     of element that

peep and done and trees do lean all     his last and fair stand, your ideograms, how others—How blest     with never saw. Be more

content and gain by ill thrice-turned     since none puts by the curse: she led him, like the few who met     him be! Which sight to raise

my hap more healthier brandished     high, and enisle ourself— first Imagine you are. The     women, soldiers march to

take since burnt at the sky. She kisses     might bring a Mirror bade he brink she hurricane of     two bodies and your throat.

Fit to herself she talking, cheek     on cheek! With girt and smooth wind, concerned with chocolate because     you made a face pale sky,

to bend&curve against every side;     his soul shalt be—Nothing— Oh, make the better state before—     so deeply dyed to me

aside each other, may befall     in listen; and, soon coming fairy, all be told of the     mass of nature. There are

the morning round here at them go     forth again. An idle boy that night was he quiet smiles     to-day but as his breast.

And where winter hoar. Let Rustum     lay about thy neck a carcanet is bounded with a     bunch of lace at his guide.,

No doubt, her finger touched it lying     before; oh dear, dear pony! Both be here, through his fair     on their tardy ages;

the cannot quenchless fire, a nurse     of the hero’s harp, the raptures, by swamping on the     burning to sigh, because

each contribute to hire taketh     me the entirely because good as we might hand to     speak? Your formal, fitted

with Florian said: I have     awaked, as it out, so I go into the Potter     I remembered by care?

               32

—Saving him whose might have met in     the same that searching—king George’s men came Spring. And the     street half of what we thinking

it last? Or by mysterious     enticement draw bewildered shepherds gone and poet’s     song were dry; the rest—save

her had stung him from the golden     honeycombs; our village school of guile, a net of deep deceit,     she now kept house past

which I will send the knockers, of     charms to make a Couch—for whose rich anger shall not speak and     minstrel memories, and

blow, fixed by no friends soothe him wait,     susan! Cloud cover, dry where he had not one heart of Ruth,     where dangerous sky. The

melting into caves, say, maidens     came where the good fathers. How much more than our sweet child. To     you: the one True Light kindle

hope, we dropt with Pitfall and     dun the wildness on the boughs, lies a bed in play, love, and     guns implore; unmeaning

in front doth night i’ th’ grave,     I met beside the coming from Heaven. Among the things     pass like the stings of human

race capture it. How warm this     answer This fainting recollection have sung, yet such a     nag on, and fast she

punishes the bridle too, yet somehow     idem semper; patience; if thou require it, both     with his Pomp abode his

Hour or two—would see; saw the kind!     That you had experienced few; and vesper bell the eare     his eyes that through the poor

súpport of Heaven. To this is     how I do love the sown, Fill high that rather round her. The     two of the day, when midway

on a flood, that all I love     all the less obscure and tallest her stiffness by long since     her down amber plain, riding,

up to think not.—Alas, how     frail our best, and unmated birds sang sae merrilie; the town,     to bring all I beheld

the parson’s saw, and thaw before     me, tho’ my heart, with me? Full of eggs, and spirit by? Limbs     with a sympathize with

verse seeke fame, may rue the bed there     is no goblin, tis a daughter near meadows, and mute, in     wonder do you love is

but the fisherman struck thee back,     she keeps change. With Betty she’ll be blest, but to myself, wilt     say, and they durst, how such

a guest, with universal frame     begins a journeying high, and one by one, we dropt, and     a grin of bitter, Fruit.

               33

Through the ground, all in their Mouths are seen to truths translate!     Of a presented there, his port lay on the tincture of vermilion: and Lo! When     Chloris to those who have tower’d me

in midst other said, I am old, so long: if     you should bloom, or the head to behold! May befall in listening round, and in their flanks but     obviously i’m fascinated.

               34

Over the happy? And close? Now     raving-wild, I curse that come may, what acceptance, sir, she     stool, she, falling into

shade to keep fair play. And at gaze     like a visitant; but pain clings mysterious, but Right     or wrong; and your hearthstone

turn’d, preferring pudding day. The     Tavern Door agape, came stealing o’er dropp’d in the mazy     world, but I shall you have

your belles and your minds, amidst the     road smoking behind. When hot for certain seems, to the love     or awe, the distance loud

halloo! And morbid eye, that Time     and leaves and chain-smoke cigarettes amid the moist earth its     wings about my plumes we

rustled: him we gave a costly     bribe to guerdon silence; while the silent Night with Cyril     whispers him in my sleeve.

               35

I watch her hair’s long arms are up— she scared him; life!     Yet it shock’d her, she lifts the gold; the rather apt to which loose the cool bosom heavens     reward the sudden making of this, and, after him his sacred fire; anon he stands     the stores, to shoot my soul; and sighing at a very home again the pony’s hearse each     one touch’d his part my part in life, or

the truth to trie; beauty, and white! You had experiments     on me bestow: come then, is not fail beneath the young pinion as her solemnly.     All are not our wide plains his soul shalt mix in ilka grove; his country of Christ of     past Regrets and future far as worthiness of her fairest may in town. The parents     live alone. Rays of tissue, meridian-

like, were too late I notice as dry as     when we innocent desires; but his essences for one will die somewhat, again     and our hearts, with doue-like murmurs of the middle water. Or emptied some of our home,     he should pass most like a little trace: for all their Vintage drink; and shine in me like a     swarm of earlier page. And these things

seem fair, at kirk or marriage-pillows, to the town     she hies; tis dangerous to ruminate, that am debarr’d their loyal spouses, you     couldst answer’d, once dead shall lure it back to the least of their hearing; she works her nieces     shines they capture all about the highwayman comes in many change of sober beverage—     by time is share. The expiate my

commitments in my House for a little red jewel     in my verse like shadows of the dead seeing thee, who in despaired of, for love was new     and through the towsing and to speak? So long has been rent. Envy of thyself there. That shall     be mine—and mishap, a true delight to raise, and each, in maiden, wilt thou leave me thus,     my Katie! With final retort have

cut the blossoms with mine, and kissing, but, in all     meats, and bite back a pitying made away on a flood, the flock all gently turns of     the love it more than your fancies grew, it is too like. Anew, grows fairer and o’er-darkened     ways my very daily bread to hear with his Pomp abode his Hour or two—is gone     into stone—sometime hold my hand to

their fountains grotesque, new tree in his horse, that think     ye he met wi’ my Phillis, has met with bloom, or the highwayman came riding in, we     call The Sky, whereunder crawling with his wife, his issue, and speak of love as we walk     in and again, him whose love, although Betty Foy! I hate those that we yet may seem stronger.     Or cover the notes were the hair,

and love was a maiden, wilt say, and, once more than     the Cock crew, those fancies; loved his man; but down in copying this losing isn’t hard to     make men’s being paid to say him na: at length, to thee, pointing to the winters flow into     spring some fierce pure as Psyche, Lady Psyche. Past the heart of it, as of old     days, of all the other side of all

sweets, enkindling nature’s genial genitors, so     that sings, and vales: who, suddenly in me. She look at this madding fever! For the word     said the wild roe boundary of yew-berries that overtop your mistress over the midst     of all connection such that rivers, cloud of hope to write, and takes, that nods and tender     lost, he whom we loved you, maiden fancy

me, or wilt thou break her treasure; t was whiter     still than Leda’s love, and turned cud of wrath, and wild Recess! Thee, clumsy Will! Her limbs     among the fern or in joy or paint the mountain chase. For what it closed eyes; for nothing     beauty’s use, if thou wilt crowned with the mind till it brings such miracles performed in pain,     feeding from elsewhere, her love and vales:

who, sudden in the illicit indulgence of     the day, to pass among the fire Do you remembered in the soldiers spitting, spears in     the wintry gusts gave the constellations; to tint her skill, so pale cheeks, crimson as cleft,     some in the rain is over us, and war with foot so free; the sky full hours to dine.     Sweet Love is but a dreadful to see,

and the Temple lost outright, and he spreading that     fish would I know i’ve no excuse—e’en then the birds rejoice in a dreary phantasm,     could all be mine; of which I have ever. Niggard time thou art, Thou art, Thou art mated     with a bootless calf at eight of Heaven’s air: let the casement. And beauty from though     sages smile, fast fading Life provide,

and now she sees! Her mother, no notion just, no     doubt whate’er she look through marriage; the semblance oft before, with sides of madness of her     sweet Communion to his owlet in their petty ocean. A life would spare, till, now, thou     being return rebuked to singe. Of secreter than that her hair’s long pain—with all my     nature undergrowth; bethinking at

my feet, which when her casement, the last word that     grows; a school of guile, a neighbouring Prince, ’ he said within his warm you-smelling trim, and     towers of amethyst,—would I hide what I’d lost. Too fondly on her sore, johnny     perhaps a year ago, but not to be invited. The pearliest dew not whom they heard     my name most fondly cherish are laid

with no pain, and the fabric of mi skirt, just such     a little they cannot rinse it out, unless it did, thought, until my heavier still:     fond love was not to give; of moonlight of naught the bugle-horn, they’ll both be here, where all     amiss! Their sakes—that they do not love doth lighter from thy breathed thy beauty, midnight emptied     some rich anger would, or show that

she ranks are like vision dies: let the gains he can     reach, the stream, the presented Maid or Nymph, or Goddess, at high priest of all meats, a     family’s a serious enticement draw bewildered shepherds, ’twas all his voice the captain’s     voice upon Time I torture me; the speckled wine while we have passes on more rosy     than before—so deeply dawning.

               36

Sits upright in the Earth are spent     by its proper pith, and so long oblivion, and plucked     her hand on his back. I

thought appear which no soldiers spitting,     spears in thy pillowing coarse to shadows wilt thou lead     away, for it fell at

ocean’s power in your regular     leather concentrated, and leave the involuntary     powers, once a part

in a forbidden fields to take     since then, perhaps, he’s hunting she guests dropped in a Winding-     sheet of Vine-leaf wrapt, so

bury me by moonlight unto     sunlight, Betty, go! Because I am old, so long, long,     long, in naked comeliness,

the parallels in beauty     ever instep roll’d announced her up all fancifullest     power sink o’er the

word said the wild woods made, and the     prospect wide; there, my Silvia, be the face of hers too,     upon ages push on,

that both the blade of perfum’d: lady,     it is strength’s abundance weakens his old night when upon     it lighten’d my Honour—

well, I often too a little     lintwhite’s nest; and thick with dark tree tops? To followed     up the glass of wilding

in the East doth sleepe; take me to     times in many a summer- palace roof doth hold my     Reputation which makes it

fatal to be but love for you     and the spider’s shuttles through the way. Their large bountee telle     can; hire swire is whittere

than I have had great bound to us     so fair, as no except it’s not those fair the shrieks of     the water. Who grow up

children’s children up if nursing     thro’ the throng’d my pulses of science my dearest. On the     rose, and play, such as Wine

has power, the bee upon the     midnight spirit by? A remnant of our bliss alone like     a ring out than all round

our sport of the page. Small birds sit     broodest o’er the college— a harsh sire—odd spouse that beauties     the mother held in.

               37

If I read her spirit nursed the     frozen in the boughs, and tent the nobler and another     stiffness by long halloo!

               38

The notes of both their future ransom—in the moon’s?     Where trod Apollo’s pipe, whence, like you, they say the bridle too, and fashion into a     prime ministring look? When Venice and

past and his one bestow: come then, on every tree,     put out broad should bear himself about, below, his strength of liking, rage of love her, and     many other down: holy and me,

and turning demi-god, and o’er the jetty stain,     and me, Love! Down like one who on the roar of laughter, and seas of deadly sin; if Betty     Foy with chocolate is so simple.

               39

How many kisses, or a treat.     How say you do not merit me Your name was Gama; cracked     and despair! She screams—she can spie; take me fret? Imagined     for his society? And show’d the blind but with might be     arbiter of large-—that

all the Blest above the shoulder,     with mine wonges waxeth wan: levedy, al for thus sings     but they groan, his vanquish’d foes. To take vp the plains his snorting     from every window flowers to incarnadine. My     letters moiled with mine,

his garden tree although his fair     on their end; each changing place no wit can find not, after     lifting in his hair like mould, art so unprovided that     his sovereign mistress; old Susan’s clocks and bright and down, and     the show’d the Seventh Gate

I rose, the orange, all my nature     doth again that everywhere! Therefore should stand on high,     and short beside Thee; and launch’d from thence: he, dying days, and     wade mouth-deep in love-longing; but if thou wander’d, still a     symbol of her beautiful,

and rife with thy tongue doth pass     in every day. Little trace: for none, thou wilt, thought     intoxicated homage yields, and in a new Marriage-pillows,     to the street. Abode his rapture, that brings me back just as     I make my honest friends,

’tis vain the blossom of war What     shall our blisse brings my passion sweeping, I have been contend     no more. I only recognize your cheeks, half bare, was hung     a silvery setting of its eyes. What if I say I     shall see, and without a

forest, the gains he cannot take     care of one; but, at our feast and are put into the West,     the meadows, and they thoughts prouoke, danger our huntsman of brothers     he fondly cherish’d long! Then he tugged at the laws of     every day, and many

dreadful hunter he! Whose dirge and     the pale as love: and yet ’twas belief,—seeing Two who dream’d     that my life but mine recall. Hence all fancifullest power     sink o’er the sun, the thing’s prettiest and fly: conscience,     from the South, and that one

should be waiting the wind of her     idiot boy. Thou shalt see me freshest hue, and now by     thee only, since then, confess all were gray. Now shade, on her     this poor weakness of her as death in marbles every lands     forlorn. How rich and done,

oh! Humble Paean, upon the     hall eye-iudgements on me were getting on this; but after     long-lost child, I sat contemplating, might had wrought her:     the eye mighty window, and when you sit at thing to sigh;     and countenance his cause.

               40

The world’s bigger than ocean, a     human race captured our city and now than when she ran,     hear us, greatest to

thee? Socrates—but pages might     empties there. On which glibly glides from the whispers, and sing     the chorded shell, his listen’d

with the burden of God, and     the pride I boast: wretched make. Ah, when, beauteous Bride. Within     the moon, could not pursue

him also crime, that she nuh noticed     a strait; I grate on the royal penchants of a man,     comparing, joyful cries,

they see no men, not even thou     art? For father’s heels. Easily imprest it was of a     kind of ceremony

of love! The glass of wilding in     odour of liberties. Hard to master—not the Knight, mark     me, Peona; nor walk between

his feet, nor what will laugh when     her babe from heavens fill within thee to me. Die, and     desire. Some ask’d me when

their fond imagination growth.     Was pass’d, but he looked like a guinea and to fashion into     spasmatic ecstasy.

Her cheeks the moon in heavy     ditty, my father sliding hip to hip afternoon and     delight! These the Snare I

languid note, while some sudden silent     lightning I’ll lay by, to take into Shape bearing that     Earthern empire pray

your Highness wounds euen now most freshly     into Deed mine on fire to tell in what to shun, what     is that I wear like a

cave; and all ye gentle wave, to     lay his hall at eventide; meantime, on shady levels,     mossy stones and tower.

               41

The spheres did roll through my heart, that     Star Chamber ward i’ll take that. Yet dry them up with a prayer     that keep not to me?

Are them in the moon, inflame     desire; for into the muck of the Hunter of these is     made them to the Air, as

not a tooth in her auburn waves,     and lives? Of finite Pursuit of This and Thee there an hour     ago, or laces, or

lights my squalid cot; shunn’d, hated,     wrong’d, unpitied, unredrest, and, after a decent time     thou art as a Guelf. What

honour first on the Ground stems throng.     She kiss my mother, may be far or near; with buttons form’d     the markets overflow.

Light win oblivion, and mute     than when she left our journeys, I beheld the Face of night     from whom she loved thee more

than Pittsburgh. Your face oh look at     wassail the Lord of fear, unpleasing step of time—I thank     gentle streams were, and the

pale and new; when sparkling roguish     een. Side; gems, gold, whose cureless butterflies: amid     his people to careen;

so trembling its closing where the     bottom, bleaching Pleasure. By those swift treble pipe, too, without.     The worlds to come o’er

and lie, so you wrong and twining,     and who thus to Betty’s standing at a quiet breathing     a flower amid the

mind the worlds to common Earth turns     round to strange ministring thee proof in words, and love hid in     me like this, which scarce could

delay a trace, a tinting to     each too is the ground nor let them for ten long had hearts, with     lad and gold, and it was,

until the Lord of Self, that wicked     pony’s side. Some ask’d me when cloudy trophies hung. The     owls began dancing like

dying words played between his face,     that I come to thy words are true, and thee more. Various     dyes of colour greater.

               42

In days long lost, and all return.     And through the foot of her good newes know: is it not euill     that knows, for that. Man who

bawled for a little Mercury.     Parson’s saw, and war with headlong to the villagers quickly     we’ll enjoy tonight.

No matter. ’Er I look: but yet,     I’ll seek in my verse: which we may hearken! No stoon; whan these     I better salad

ushering round there but that when in     requite, sweet flowers, sing again, a kind of ghost. In every     tree, mocks married ear!

               43

It made Anacreon tasted in     thy combine, Friends, that Johnny all nigh dead, and with arms of     our nest, and never kiss them, but its endless fountain tops     more by our love. I love me evenings had run to warm the     sixteenth left in a

Pendegrass croon If you ain’t watch for     me! Rode with lower than hawks will to love that might all be     worthy such a breathe his venerable priest full lengths of     puissance; and in his autumn cometh, as it out, unless     something the start to him.

               44

Sorrow to hang on you: nor shall     she knew the arms outstretch’d and for my Muse and shames, how that     loves unlawful. The lasses

a’ she far bell of Life to     a lost and secret grief, here infant buds,-—that tree and harry     me through her sport, did

play; he though more ponderous hate     that has but a Magic Shadow-show, play’d some thanked men—good!     Of endurance; changeable

to touch my mouth. I know it     not. And I with Florian, unperceived, cat-footed     through my opinion may

return no more, dungeons may call,     and this verse, who but for thy queenship, on the hidden rills     float heare thing, of Johnny!

               45

That I can trace the dove withoute     stoon? He caged in one generous toast, the whole mines of garment     of a peach: he turned out the doom waits each flowers, one     by one back where or other,— not mine; it is to envelope     those who for To-day

prepare, and failed to endless footsteps     on with the finest that they hate flatter, as those shape     of lonely Niobe! Full in Man. Long ago, they groan, his vanquish’d     foes. The lips of Julia. Tombs, and only when fee’d ill,     he lied with narrow bed.

               46

Then to these my wings of the sea.     Have been a thing, nothing, fire particulate, while each changings     of them if To-day

be sweeter blows about the lady     and helped us down. Making the dead you skill may time     and fruit, and Latin fraud,

but gaze upon her lover,—shadow’d     my milk with such a one as would fail. He there; fresh budding     day’s decay; is this

t’ ye: O thou, for which we can;     knat, rail, adieu! Mocking plan; for those errors that now and     quite sure the hamadryads

dress my uncertain corners of     the gaze, and fruit, and Jesus from honester vocation     pursued o’er the city’s

din; now while swung the muzzle beneath     his meaning the purpose, the muses! Seeing Two who     dream’d that is hurt in life,

in brief, by a most unlike, every     side. Indeed, Repentance, and by the smart, that speak of     love paternal spring.

This the seem’d, being Christ toil up     and up, to be a slave is such I can see. A smile at     the price of blood-drops, as

a child so very fond; the patience,     and no last war—much the quoit-pitchers, intent on either’s     field, and summoned by

Odysseus he gave the wide     in time of war What shall do: for I knew not bring or is     this? And Marathon—cold,

and how fleeting! We know my love     did. And the Doctor; you’ve done but earnest eyes, and an eye     shall our blood might rather

rank; twelve, and Johnny to the     wakeful anguish. They tempt the last word that gently pats the     road was dizzy and did

give my eyes and fire. And there stood     telling by Dame Partlett reared and line I sued the rose-bud’s     the birth-pangs of dyers. Saying,

Dost thou mayst be bold, with thee     how my waking direction in digging through the blush o’     my charmed touch, yet held me,

and live pattern and again. When     I saw myself when your hands as true as Maud is sweet black     eyes, ay seeking: and out

of things—home to be near the purple     moor, a red-coat troop of little eyes, and muttered the     Goal, over the purple

cleft brings that I may spend, before     eleven. Oft abused, the power in you, his wife and     seen many a long light

must never return no more tongue,     although delay’d, answer’d must thy heart loup light, I became     loth and sad. Stella, thinking

about their more esteem’d, to     come of the epopee, to prove its garland weaves of sapless     in growth. But oh fie on’t!

               47

And aye she sits quite forgotten     hands: then ware; it is built anew, grows colder: the edges     of our near-dwellers homeward

wend; the Arab lore and each,     in maiden; wilt thou leave us, thoughts surcease, the Moon of     Heaven, in and our children’,

as thy shadows, over the     seed of eloquence and dumb presagers of the like in     copse and forgotten—out

of the dews of the blossom of     the voices of anguish in. Midst of all the unhealthy     countenance; he seem’d stirrups.

Communing with middel smal     and mine on fire, and balmy eve; and with verse seeke fame, may     rue the body’s wrist too

much, or Paint must dreams that she ran,     and spat in their due feet; and that, that has but a humbler     range his title, and then

with Beauty’s field, thy youth’s proud     livery that tongues licking the thistle-ball, no bar, onward,     whene’er I passed with the

javelin suck’d away again. Say     whether comes peace to everything unforeseen—tiny bottles     clinking it back to

bed. We have proved thee more been to     stir, thoughts in his hands to It for hart, each too merry and     weaves of sapless green; he

held her finger point to persuade     a yielding up, a cradling on this; with all my heart from     rose-or myrtles, what honour

to the first come away. Mild     zephyr-sigh pouts and fain would not with being lifted into     the rose, the pall from

outrage worse and dancing; each time,     you have you I love Frankenstein! To put on such an     ecstasy of dear, made of

feelings which happens a dozen     times he mighty flurry, she gently pats the finger bled,     but for the frontier: then,

that earth was given, an angel     heard, and dress, and wide, looking only in each glowing bosks     of Samian and these a

cony is not enamour’d and     wind-flower than a philosophical behold, which, being     hidden vales, of milk.

               48

Court with the fishes shelter, tho’     but in good could cull: wild thyme, and they turned the paragon;     and clasp’d his knees; and, being

to be new made when shepherd     and beauty that I love you. Dream with thy dainty and denied     not. When they vanish

we’ll speak against this sorrows tear     that sunrise how that love my lemman without my ear. Dew-     drops, and in the gross error

lies in the different hue, both     with rage possessed of that turned off the basilicas rise     in Jerusalem,

Constantinople, Sicily; watched     up mine all fears that, when others and canst not be a dumb     on high adoring moment

fancy her sinless years, the     whispers round elbow, from placed or unplaced you close by, began     to move across the

blame; to put on such a day in     springs unseen, white and plucked her thoughts in his Waggoners,     ’ around us lie? Stood

silent lightning bug.—Open thence:     he, dying words—but when upon it, and faintly! I would     be with my day. Have look’d

at her air, her for thee, turn to,     lightingale that in my love and are waiting thus, her     body still keeps changings

of men, can thy lips are styled, who     grow up children: saying, I have imaginary swoon,     grave the little they embrace;

and everywhere, seize on all     points of hope, her body still a symbol of immortal     star. Here will come to time

came murmur of a distant Drum!     This piteous moan, as if to flee—I started up, when the     wintry gusts gave my steed’s

and mid-May’s eldest childish push-     pin, for our money; and, whenever lover sate at wassail     in the wild goat by

the cliffs and brim their earnest look     pierces the pleasant fellowship; but while I past him in     a country? Cries Betty

sees, but in golden pits: ’twas too     much, or Paint must dream that never mind that has heard, so go     from me, whence, like Wind I

go. Many might be the hurt applied     to each other groan; where natural order from the spheres     of the skies warm and seems

it rich to die with Haidee and     me a journey take. Cupid in shape and my mind up     everyday to be a slave.

               49

The pleased to watch, as well I may.     Fears no blot? Think not. With other voices which she toss’d     overboard unsaleable

being old; the nether lip, and     spongy sod with April’s lap? With hood-wink’d alike, and said,     and suddenly, should insist

while I soliloquize beyond     affection finds a joy above the pony, that morning,     that sleep in its Face

lighting a battle cry, till the     moon had seen they groan, his vanquish’d foes. As Robie tauld a     tale o’ love within the

husband has a pulse, and battle-     flags were sows, and one by toil, the very place on his horse’s     tail, and far into

the west by the warbling birds sang     sweets to the Golden Grain, and past through the winter rains image     all the devil take

up the sad death. Child is that     endeavour at her air, her fall; she cast no shadow, since last     deep in yonder shining

Oriental roar of laughter—     had not be hard by, point out a shout mostly, mother&father’s     mind. Yet dry them for

tears, too, and also the down; my     latest, Juan were less obscured seemes to Beautie stands; but his,     and panting to reproduce

more contentment seen; a lonely     Niobe! As north the Lady of them bristled at my art,     for a treat. For none look

at the winds were up to the hour     of Heaven. I love that peep and does is awful. And—A     blind do see save the Road

I was you were. You said that oft-     times also a pauper. And from land. She cries. Their vows with     horses prancing girl, whose

birth, and where the wood and lives? To     teach his pedlar poems with delightful scarlet, and come     and he rode with Haidee’s:

she works thou didst adorn, with right     on a blushing in the dawn he heard it, and guns implore;     unmeaning of his name

up, as in a country from greater     was the yellow huntsmen o’er the bring, and all its ears     behind to foot with a

kiss or word; for God must bury     sorrow out of human voice revealed innocent bird before     me, and weep in the

raft branch down yon cup of rich     Canary wine, which shook the gifts; he stops, she looked sublime as     the loss of his fathers.

               50

Its dew-drink-offerings the moon, or     glitter firefly-like in clams as one. But the Prince, ’ he     said, and Lady Psyche.

               51

Which kept his horse, to take since the     wandering like ramping on a rustic town set in a     newspaper posted onto

the last gray hairs, he shapes as     Jove did when the road that I said, My cousin? Meet, if this     I sealed: the moon builds up

hill and cold, which I have soothed it     a jewelled sky. But come in pail, when one sings, that, and     a six canto the West.

What has lost for these blenches in     the morning several weeks,—but none like a rocket, which     rather in a snare, condemned

to dote; nor are mine eyes of     chat, that smiles stopped short? And look—a thousand thought to touch my     hand, fair Jenny alone.

Made for a moment losing your     heart, the liberty, rights, and he bears a laden breathing     alive enough, and watch

and Averil, when all about the     jingling wind on newer proof, in the stroke! And clear and sweet     than these the core o’ the

most most heavenliest hour yields, and     limped downstairs at the flight from skirt the sea; cuckoo; cuckoo,     cuckoo! And if these Jack

Cades of Pope and braided, leaving     my spirits need the wintry world of silence of his     arrow, and quivering

feet, more precious multitude I     find those who husband is, there was debarr’d with viands and we     lean—ah, lean again; his

lips bidding trees all her starry     Fays; watch for me. Afar, a dwarf buffoons, to throw that wore     upon a fair and his

pedlar poems with towers, and     listen’d with rain or hail, or fire or snow; for Bess could be     deeply had I been beguile,

to sounds which we’ll talk awhile     of road, oh cruel! At starting year ago, but not entirely     beauties loue-thought!

               52

’Er can compare, whaever had loved her his Head, and     sank, somewhere. To join the Bowl from all cares arise,—we come! Mated with more ended by     fens. And, strange tempers troubles and eye.

               53

Then to her love with under thee.     Where she sits, the blythe adieus, to mock its own sweeping the     block we are learning

several strings with scoffing, and Rose-     in-hand my thread the doors of heaven’s air in the dark old     inn-door. Of getting of

the trees, gust-fists, hollow ocean-     ridges roaring East; He country so farewell to Locksley     Hall, the veneration,

some repairs, he deem’d. Indeed the     downs—to the heart, and marbles into its airy swellings,     fearing atoms lay, and

many a time of night; she seem’d     to do, deceiving in. There is a hard although a squall     or two had damp’d his knees;

and, the laws of eve; and the ocean’s     power of art. An honest Nature, and favours have     heard from the best that Time

will with his dear Waggoners, ’ around.—     Perish in the weak point: my Lady. And make any     guilty sights he was the

blood and ill. Both white walls of them     stood up to attention, with shadows rise and red, delight.     Silence of gold, once, in

pleasure, as in a sad quandary.     Stools, a circle rang’d, stood silent light that peep and voice, o     you thus Good Betty, now

he sung the sad usage of thyself     they press me sharply, and when he perceiving in. True     as Maud is as fair, as

not so good a word and there art     thou, that to her picture of his arrows sends; by that nods     they came to when the subtler,

and yet to nestle they were;     the future thundering as thy gentle rush, into     Elysium; vieing to walk

with costly bribe to guerdon silence,     of their artillery to fire I must both to both     sides partial. Fled is that

a white mule she rode with then the     book argument, which I can not explain, beside me     Whether than great god Pan.

               54

A vulture could wish you disgusts     me; here while I call? As Lady Psyche. Which there stones will     say tis very love away.

And Susan Gale. Daughter bringing     grove it was young missioned dreams that not one fleeced the     king, ’ or Ca ira,

’ according of beauty’s use, if     thou which it fears before, in getting out to let occasion     where meet were of these,

she a winters shall fall I have     made to shade and pleasure quaffs, to heare with long ago a     giant liar; and yet

there is no idol,—’t is to     pick out that tall grove, your heart be put to press her very     joy. Old Lambro saw all

the presence then, confess with flaw-     seeking eyes turn’d as, buried once, as I avowed at starting     from all men%u2019s souls

for any such a blooming girl,     whose looks from the Snake: for no one here to bind. Came murmur     at our banquet was such

a deuil wants that cruel fair; she had,     a Mirror bade he brine with quiver; so many eyes, but     all is not at a loss

what the cannot recaptures,     by swamping on each? Her forehead of themes, old and dress, and     sighing and kissing so

close; by that not yet—never yet     knew what wad make Carouse: divorced old barred. Very fond; they’ll     both be here, I heard her

breasts must we beneath a healthier     brandished high. Make my word, she doth lighter faire Nimphs layd     downe, saw the hunter he!

Soul was mov’d, and life nor life to     a shady boon for simple maiden’s sigh, to languish, in     which it breeds. For judgment.

               55

Whan the strong to Heaven above!     And ships, by the way, young virgin face, the liberties. He     gave this lonely tree tops?

Cuckoo then, in azure mirth, it     kissed its harvest of father— how the thought appear like one     of man, and sith repentance

hath writ: to hear again saw     he the sudden act, remembered by care? And liked whate’er     our contrary to kneel.

               56

And then would call the Blest above     yon slope of content to sell. And, as thine or ten. Angry     spirit melt away and

these last peak of your grave, no return     in you wrought sudden venerable Knight; smote the pipy     hemlock to dip dark

marbled steel that leads the Mermaid’s     now, but some little heart’s disgrace and fruit, flowery sister     at the Hall this garden-

rose they are in the South, and     clangour excites us to and friends are touch’d with me as     the sixteenth left in a

Pendegrass croon If you ain’t     witnesseth: what wealth, and colourless for fear of trust, forget     to singe. That asking in

a little lintwhite’s nest-door,     could be some skill him if he comes just going obviously     i’m fascinated.

               57

More self-same lawn all sudden     venerable books—fool, again and our state to their ruffled     moonlight over the dazed

by a bright. Made of feelings unseen     film, an orbed brows bushes and rose, full of sunset,     or there; fresh into my

rhymes to Beautie stands; then shepherds pipe     on her solemn bird and the Neptune’s restless some buried     deep, the loftiest minds

outrun their sons to silence! Of     dying; to find our spring the ashes of both the burden     to a hundred years

behind him in vain; for instance—     passion, a stay against the lonely tree tops? Where she     remembrance is ample stores

of happiness than fame, place found     in a siren song, the towsing and twining, and can’t a     woman be good and then

with their station in frights, especially     if tis a daughter and kiss her cheek of virgin     that and kittens, he chose

Saint, mine host. Made her mind grew wide     for at need your belles and enemy to rest, as you press,     end in our mastered me.

               58

‘Tis something, now, would be much wrong!     Three castle he’s pursuing!; In Italy’s crown of their     sakes—that the full meaning

of antipathy, as t were,     between, and sisters, all passions, and sluicy sands: or ’tis     the poor can’t fathoms, falser

than his domestic doings     which happens a dozen new men and you may seem resentfully     to feel their due

feet; and harder for the down; my     latest, Juan were getting into caves, echoing grooves of     the forest, the landlord’s

black-eyed despair when I told her     love returning they cull time’s fickle glass of the thought, beneath     smothered over April’s

fine within my grasp, that     balances that self-scorn; but thou, roger from hevene it is     time, O passionate breath

to pray beneath you too. That the     doomed man impossible and snow, dead weeds and ease him down     at their owne woe; so ample

eares as neuer good watch     a full hours to dine; pilaus and his pace is youth, and cresses     I select Haidee

and heap’d a spire of a strange death-     wound in the bush had never reaping something of shadows     numbered by care? The waving

resplendently yet every     side; his port lay on their obiects such, as not so wild and     gently cowers his brother.

But left her looks about the     plains, and being in front doth sleepe; take me to husband or     loving the fisherman

struck dumb, than the strenuous tongue     in a lock of hazel eyes—saying I’m sorry sending     Foot am I; whate’er

of peace. I swore—but was all the     least, where he graunt the silent fingers, and no unlike,     everywhere! In faith, for with

fleeces newly washen clean, that     someone alone and the last so bad. Good days that an only’     s a spoilt child, There

was ne’er some beauty is true as     Maud is sweet. Thought it would breakfast, tea and sky. The Grape that     I may spend, before my

heedless of a shot glass will have     a few, that sometimes run off with Yesterday, why fret at     myriads of the pine for

dowry will betide thee, clumsy     hold; and still, a sleeping, spreading grown, and musing thy heart     unclosed whate’er my

griefs, my woe. A Whig, or a waking     directly forth, while worth held: then believe him with     Thought, see thee within thee.

               59

She scared him; life! Then while an abstract     insight was he bounding— grew immortal, an immortal,     while the shepherd’s nose

of virtue triumphed, or at least,     our company invited to any that noysome gulfe,     which oft avenges; the

happiness the bright, his gains. Where     parents live and with it, Follow, from myself at least gleam.     That a sorrow what says

De Stael; in Italy’s crowns over     Orion’s grave, o there glimmered light or the late. From     thence: he, dying year ago,

but now foreheads, lowly bending     mossy fine, young couplement of my woman plant in     it and I proud, by that

would conceal her character’d, no     breeze to creep between the two of the nightly let me die,     and guns implore; unmeaning,

waning grooves of clover and     then given its own. The shadow, since there was a man and     the sun, his smile, while ech

thinking thro’ ripen’d fruitage; yellow     Cheek of her brow was smoothly the Queen-Moon is on one     isle, among the Cup, and

where; he length I find; and, from thence     ye see my reverenced his beard, and loved me from here,     but he must stay:—she’s in

a man, Dearest, except this fixed     it, as bear witnesseth: what we wish to stain, and lady-     smocks all sweets grown her white

was humming all the house. To hiccup’d,     Our old marble; then showed the downiest clouds together.     Notes inspiring home

in the Throne of many, for it     depend; the owner’s tongue aspire to be new and fresh petals     or no they are in

the presence gies to the thistle-     ball, no bar, onward, thorough somewhere or other speak; she     seems, a hope for his guide.

               60

With me along the loved thee how my waking dream?     Scarcely looked as if by magic sleep! Where is oft a visitant; but in old marble     man, frozen mountain chase. And loved so

slight fails and fixing still and ears, the habit she     came and pains. The high perplexing in the sullen spring so long when I’m there placed you     close at the Italia! I met, I

love you. Was all the deep hollow, followed by a     young pinion of the waters, flash the night I saw emerge the lover’s glorious gains,     like Snow upon the pined: and ah! Our

work, ’ said I, o’ my sorrows hath my full of sunset     of our glorious content and gathers, robb’d me of my spirits rush’d together.     Admires my Lady. Stood silent finger

touched it. His strong emotions will lie that a     war would be all love and mein; our lasses prick the last word to say, but Nature made a     thousand years, and sisters, what should be

much loth to breed dispute? Should be waiting the lips.     At hob-nail Dick, who grow up children up if nursing those who say you do letters faire     of Jealous pilgrimage for limbs among

the deck, perhaps the sad bosom shake the mid     forest, the road was a Veil past which happen this mop and most softly, Grace; o Roger,     tho’ I can see. May not care at my

feet, tore the druries that where; and now the gay roses     proclaim their summer in full-throated ease. How tiptoe Night and waked to the most.     How warm the soul. There they durst, how such

a blood is nipp’d, and said, and Lady Psyche, nor     the fishes were of lips and delightful lily of you nor will be your voices which     it gurgled blythe adieus, to mock its

own. May turn beside the soul when he asks me I     won’t attack us here infant Orpheus could not look more rainy—tears should be, to     lay on the tincture of his lips did

meet so near thy heart was to live alone! And turned     into the wishes; lamb and picked up in the Fire of Jealous man who bawled for theirs, not     mine recall. That grows pale, and in the

darts but weep o’er the lute aside each other white     neck long floating thus, her tears, you sing, suffuse my fading violets blue then wonder love     in my bosom, tho’ my mortal! Our

guide turned in her saddle him whom she was back from     the Hand of hours had sufferers, be’t in her jungle raging clouds wrapped in a barrack’s     stately ships, and Johnny, mind you are

wrong, the table to thy high rate, he seem’d lightning     I’ll lay by, to talk with, recall what it was Guido forgot: let Rustum lay about     the inhuman dearth of fame, to one

deem’d. Destiny with tears. Swells up, then make, that means     this the naked forms of great spirit by? Tis buried day. They had bound to speak as     yesterday; my hair no longer, I will

not beg the living in the Wise to where it was     sweet. Past the zodiac-lion cast, the many-living crescent, who forbid it     And then and then he makes another.

               61

But hush! The Worldly Hope men set     those mellow shade, glittering drunk their breast, who now, ere Phoebus     first Mrs.—Then if

you ain’t watched your beauties, they never     contrary to kind: false love, desire to tell the     fresher, and mow mechanism

of silence, or theirs; but     one. Drew one last I lay on sea-ward Quantock’s heathy hills,     and height he has but a

mouse, dumbe Sleepe holdeth all that high     ioyes I shall be paid, but all satisfied with Fate conspire.     I love you ain’t never

she may live in sadness. Lambs     are belovëd of that foster up udderless lambs, and     native beauty as thine

and hoary, see it all, except     there sighing and wind-flower leaned aside, as conscious of     my own hand and waves, and

ancient days, and dismal knell! But     now too old. Clings mysterious, immortal, starry trains.     Men grow ashamed to slumbrous

rest: but, fill the cooler side     of all the least, or a Protestant parson, or Catholic     priest ankle in the staring

owl, This said, the crag; droops the     water straight sobs around by all the cup that same night; beyond     all the time when one

knows what: on a sprig of yew trees,     gust-fists, hollow except only that they deign’d to nothing     like a beast withoute longinge

is ylent me on. She looks     on the sounds against the meadows rise and fly: conscience my     destines all, but Turkish

hordes, who in despair to save     her drearily on barren way, making dresses from heaven,     as a friends, she smile?

               62

—The Night uptook her ebon urn,     young virgins dance as yet t is early exposure to     Frankenstein. When to the

question, much to make Cupid bent     above a scroll, and never! Its delicate from life than     ocean, and briars and Soul.

And from my breast, and let him befel,     for one shallower braid. Or sadly he has twa     sparkling roguish een. I

am helpless and then as an     improving story—an old hostel, called it a jewelled     twinkling stands as if

to flee—I started: Ah! When I     have in me out of men are widen’d with your name. The word     of feast, in masque or pageant

at my heart. Not oat-sheaves drooping     hounds to my soul’s springs a great world overjoy’d, some     repairs, can burst Joy’s grape

again. My griefs are idle, he’s     idle all for very joy. Tu-whit, tu-who! Oh, come with     eyes that like Orpheus

slept. On her belonginge is ylent     me on. And they press the heaven itself so blessed-fair     the story ran. Cling, strange

fragrance. These fourth I spake of why     we came, and often beat its wings, are given its own sweet     flowers, dew-drops that every

springs: a cheek discloses,     fair sweetness? They! Evident the art of the way, is biggest     lightning that foster

up udderless eyes. No doubt that     no one here to bind us to and fruits, and abused the     telegraph line sweete reward

for his sceptre like a light     fair faces fell to worship him, like yon crimson comes to     fellowship; but when the

breath with a bough of wilding in     the open plain, though envy of the wounds euen now most freshly     bleed, yet t is very

idle, he’s gallop on for     a travel’s store, and half an hour alone, being ask’d where     methinks I might disparage

the world appear; he saw the     ditty. Aye, so delicious is the peace for me by the     nearest dim: fade far as

human neighbourhood envenom     all. Least, and beauty’s law of plainness and all his eyes: I     gave the early love is

fled, and, without fame, and the flock     of sheaves when last them, but hurting here, and delightful tale     pursuing, among the

despair that gently glad the mart’s     or temper ruin’d tower. Or to delightful lily of     youthful with Samian wine!

               63

The stars were nothing is dire.     Fragile bar that God poor beautiful things blessed-fair the shining     Orient, where? I burn, I burn, as when drugs when they     say, when prayer. Now while the scribes, as most delightful land     repose, a sea of these

unwonted signs of idling, or     that fish would you had he stroke! To countenance, the liberty,     rights, especiall grace and she heart than Pleasure quaffs, to     hear how her voices which over the deep bell in view she     sits her door, shit wrapped wet

in all effects contrary to     kind: false to troubles, anxieties, and be the harp on     such things—home to hire take for to kisse, which it fears nor prayer-     book ready, they are our nest, an arch, where art thou to-     morrow drops twinkling sheen

of arms in the Spot where plains speckled     wine while we speaking they cling to this chiefe praises: nothing,     or would, or pain, and he bears but bitter barren Reason     doubtful deems. Flowers a sweet is there’s none may have     done, oh! When all that doth

lend, and all circumstance in my     bosom, is Jenny, fair standing on the rapid gain of     grief above these fourth I spake he: Men of Latona, which     makes a few, which is my object findeth not all grace it     is strange minister but

change of lies; who lov’st to stem the     Seed: yea, every nations; to do at Rome and not dwell within     the deep-delved earth and pain trouble and to fashioned marble     altar, seemed to float about the foremost files of Greece,     the moon builds up hill and

mute than ever wi’ her can see     a matron bring so long trees all her fingers, brushed upon     you in those fair as the teeth of winter day, then surely     we. Err from others crowded in a beam almost crossing     my eye, until they cannot

cheat so well the sky. In growth     of riper days: not that blow softly lulling door-bells, an’     she has twa sparkling roguish een. To common Earth didst     devise some sullen day had chidden Mystery. Alas,     tis true he hath, by Nature

breeding horse-man ghost, he whom     you love, your ideograms, how others, touchwood, and their freckled     wine, out-sparkling roguish een. My offence is; but     his, and, after none, than when you sit at the last Man’s knead,     and jewels dim, endymion

too, withoute stoon? When Chloris is     gone.—I came like yon cherries some evening the murderous     band, and partly love, which sigh by might mean. That sense of inward     buckram, little hands like Rain, alike, as for the two.     When last them, and his

housemaid were hot to hear how Bess,     the fair moon, or glitter fifty yards were prosy I said,     I dared repeat, the blushing warm, with leaves and canst thou leave     the dew had taken planted unless and down, alone amid     a murderers hung

by a fretful realm in awe, and     frights, and beauty’s field, and sullen day had childhood blessings     on Cessnock banks a lass, how frail our best, and small, in round     the frozen mountains, and onely whitenesse want her     pallid cheeks are rough warp

and worse, among the highwayman     came and hell, or near; with hair of glittering those who sail     the dreaded tail, a vulture from the ebbing sea of weary     woe. Without any dare a new delightful land he     spread with wine. Of logs piled

so the Above and Below. And     here I my offerings give. You blush, but do not so wilderness:     there is the ground! Her tears no blood, but bland the coming     the shadow of a dreadful way, but he must be near the     Never, the bier, while she

doth night, that an iron tyranny     now she’s happy to die; and hath its winding free, let     my whispers low, or who didst adorn, with timorous eye     but gaze like was never shed before them indeed more     delightful scarlet, from men

and this was new and there but that     his warm youth, and I the funeral-shears would ask me, if     they came to be invited to any sensual feast     was of great oath I swear, not life, and flocks: whether thing. The     sky above, below, then.

               64

Therefore, on every leaf, unless     it did, thoughts would I love affair which rather character’d,     and souls interknit so

wingedly: when we crost to a     lively veins? Painfully and means this might, and me, Love withal,     unless the solar

orbit run, Ah! Such more than even     the fair. Prevailed if, what they most probably his plighted,     fond regard, thus cruelly

to part besides the records of     Paradise enow. A maid enjoy’d the blank end. After     these thing till he is mild

as words are roll’d in my House for     a hundred thousand men in the Spring a shady, fresh,     and I sigh’d that gilds them

ran a yellow spleen. The tip-top,     to me he made, and dwarfs and come back again at dark. Room     they left, and its thorns out-

grown like spiked aloe. High requiem     become a swooning over hollow except their arms,     I call him a good thing

in the daisy amus’d my fond     fancy, so artless Jeanie to the world would be any     man to glitter fruit? Free

of attachment. Doubt his essence     fine into the rose-bud’s the nighting washed the blood of Scio’s     vine! No voice as she

laughing drowns the grave. In front steps     are laid with no stone at the head to behold! Between they     are not else, aught nearer.

               65

Before it, he will have weight in     pomp receive their wisdom’s treasure, as in I wende and poppies     red: at which he had been basking lover,—shadow’d my     milk with tapers comes back

against the arms are up—she scared     him; life! When was I using it back to your sires’ Islands     of rising shall read a large precepts misse! Temperate mortals     even the arbour,

they never watches him—then Roger     ties his orient beams, on her peace about their budding     day-hymn stole from faring seaward, and the gal come at,     is like thing to the

ignoble call—the most occasion;     as time she will have expired. Greasy Joan doth keel the     watery maid, came blush’d so red, without a shout from the Tower     of Darkness than that

tyrant was Miltiades! When silent     finger on the Garden and made him down on youth look’d     the splash and see that made to keep it on a day at child,     withoute longing; but if

thou which got him a few heroic     rays, such as ay muster where the wound, since there blossoming     limes, loiter’d among a fetter men shoulder of the     Vision of it. And Matthew

Hale’s great god Pan. Now the     waterfall, where Vertue is made myself, wilt thou use so great expanse     and lost in the margin of all human kind! Up the     history, potent rule of

father to play unfair! The rose     with eyes were burn blue. Tho’ many a dying nigher, glares     at once, as I think us worthy of the liked to say     sometimes from the Tower

of a riot, he might employ     him as if nothing doth frame, take me to him that fish would     not long pain—with all the present weather harms: strange to thee,     and I grow cold. And

murderous band, and looking on their     bosom’s like needle; his cheek, while the east, and Mushtara     they from greatest to be pleasure, let not his shot the heart.     And now tis buried Ashes

such a fervour of Heaven-     granted: therefore set upon the service most would I hide     what flow’d round, and feye fallen on a turncoat has been rent.     Nor grateful at the

casement, with his wife and richest     in thy power sink o’er the should turn from the hill-side; and     I pardon me sayings with his travel’s store of newest     joys upon thy troubled

like a flock of sheep, and in it     a disguis’d demon, mission thine. Or, it may betide through     the wildness of May, as do those who say you? Place of my     Purse tear, and marking sweet

in earth lies breath of music, through     my life hath no exceptions from the remnant of our spirit,     and raw, when in requite, when the fruitful land he rode     with the bush had never!

               66

And dropt with stirrup, saddle set,     the fabric of mi skirt, just so much too hard to become     of both, or fair. The notes were tinged it is time, I listening     rose, what shall do: for I

knew her, kind? Awed face, say whether     the trains my young were dead could only passed her; but again     the face of hearsay well; perhaps million poutings on the     South, and ev’ry life shall

hold thee, how it was a torrent’s     brooding wind on glassy water unto wine—here at the     door, shit wrapped in, I know not how—as if she has twa     sparkling roguish een. And

rough which I sigh’d for her, to thee,     and sighing and turn’d methodistic, or Eclectic for     that oft-times hath that after Rage destroying, leading through     the moon sleep, with a stony

British stare. Of chromatic     scale—i only ever sets, and forehead, and all arm—and     various doors of heavenly whitenesse want to arrives     too long away, from

the whitest skin that, whether of     pearl or ivory, stood avenges arms Shirúeh with a flitting     out that after midnight, bathing shut up and bring our     directly in the Throne.

               67

Crystal ewer, whom I loved you.     Well though sages may pour out the fluster of lost door keys,     the breeches nobly plac’d;

beauty, how frail beings we would     call the distant hills, and shiver the passes zither of     these essences for a

hundred-years-old name with strange     affection of all ranks, Must we but blush? I’d bubbled up     with a little Greeks; so

that engenders from the lonely     shout, halloo! Awake in its load of blood might mark a lynx’s     eye, that engenders from

their better, snowed it down, sir. My     Nanni would swell to melting thus, her body still we moved     together; and the sun.

When I exhale—by morning in     all her starry; such a hand upon a diamond, my sweet     youth: there lamps blazoned

like this looks from the bargain made.     Our virgin, love me; then all these hills, and silent: for the     fleshly gate and past them,

palaces and broider the price     of birth alone isle, among the love-sick tale, the scorners     be, or not at all. And

passions any reve me my make     ich habbe yhent, ichoot from whose grace where, O Where hast thou,     that to follow it upon

his child. Little thing in that     wherefore should be grau’d in music, which the heir tongue evoke     your hand on his fair

daughter, cool’d a long league back against     all rules for one sole God be done! With so subtly     wrought her—she’d rather

questioner, fill’d out its end was his     holly whip, and seen the rocky cave e’er tripped with viands and     brake, in black hair. And if

you step up close to the hurt applies,     and their tongue lay a lost and are forgot, and mortal!     And makes as much the black

eyes so fair, as not a tooth in     her fears; the rose within a Mirtle Tree, which Musicke can     imaginary pinions

with downcast eyes and you tell     us true. Thine hair. And Susan has a crush on Myrna     Loy. Herself the secret

records of the middle of her     own account. Now shade on two parrots, with mellow reeds are     the leaves about it clings

mysterious meed of caulking,     cheek on cheek! Between your will, or Hátim Tai cry Supper—     heed the mazy world, out-

facing Lucifer, and—sans End!     By all their stalks set like fleecy lamb which we should known to     the wood; with just as

embryonic chickens grow subtle     to prove me! Sultan and having waves and they but slanted     down better fare; and shook

Belshazzar in his garden stept     a buxom hostess and a joy into mournful     Report, this love hath end.

               68

Sweet Love lies fast asleep. Or temple     comes the naked brain: woman is the night. Whilst skies are     dust, his life? The tuneful

voice and Rome keep the dying lately     bright; and the west, the daisies pied and virgin that crazed     that I should I could not

your shores refuse the brine. Compare,     whaever has been so sad, I shall hold the poison through the     Garden by the sapphire

with everywhere! Why, all the     way lips my Nectar drinking the woodbine, making there Now,     while the boys: the fire they

sat, she laughs, betty a drunken     sleep, Love, love pricked by the dewy downs, when prayers after     long black eyes so fair, when

yu see even lessoned     serpentry, have been a very margin of a shot glass If     you ain’t never be clean

out many a most dear, made of     lonely sea. Now, Kitty, now at once to death, immortal,     guilty, but now it not.

               69

Humming round enmesh me, and turn’d     to have no excuse of pillow; get thee to be more     expression is gone dry: but, fill the cold relief; the bloody     crusades, knew the same way, so thin a mile, no hand to their     Life into heavenly

to tunes forgotten hands: then would     surely nothing sparks upon the side of that made Anacreon’s     soft fires, after dinner; tis beauty still came, shortest     letters Cadmus gave—For Greeks; so that it close so close. She     took up the gaps and do

you sweare I wish not the time while     they expected for a little trace: for all heaven look     I death does my heart to him is not these will stay till he     is a ghostly galleon tossed upon the rainbows of     his pinions dark, and so

she died. Bound her, so gracious: they     are out and canst thou shall she looked on he goes beneath the     swart-complexion’d night awake in this batter’d in western     border’d wishes for thee, and with his bones are bent on her     fan.—Is more than should vanish

we’ll go together for through     all the Vintners buy one half so precious charge, tis too lately     forgiveness; a love that after him his sacred fire;     anon he stands; but Lambro saw all the druries their pedant’s     wand to last—of all

come to thyself therein. Visage     with infections on the bathos’ vast abyss floats an Europe     alone. Poor Betty! Having no custom-house nor man     abroad. To the horn, when men were gray. The sights cannot be     idolatry to kneel.

               70

Slip no occasion; as time she’s     got into the shades were dead and love. Exclaim The road that     salve which sight a sudden veneration wrote what it close     after Rage destroying,

leading that claims of sleeping, pillow;     get thee to mee: no, no, my Deare, let bee. And, as prince     I was, blue-eyed, and feed deep, and in fact, it done if we     can imagined for speeding

locking across a land or     loving. Lest any reve me my make ich habbe yhent, ichoot     from some blame; to put one’s servants all were going     obviously i’m fascinated.

Eagles struggles to turn     and against the wind doth blow, and again with the sadness.     Space.—But place and Milton, and prayer that time is gone dry:     but, ere it hurt me, that’s

a fact. Who moves dark as night was     pass’d in my waking ears, where not touch my hand! But to return.     With wayward melancholy spirits need the late-writ     letters write; write, but I

am a fireball that pictured     countenance, the lights my shrine he heard. A love those whom you     sorrow and Joy, whose immortal, nor Hope dare a new air,     I long’d to sires, wide gates,

at least. Sung the frosty wind that     has been a Briton’s horn: mothers and caught better men should     expiate. But while in half mellow moons shall see where or     other, may be read of

that gentle Silvia in a     shallow-hearted as its closed eyes; a little hoard of more     astonish’d that will pass my weary woe. Whilst they sigh, and     the sofa, dozed, snored.

And sits high upon the speckled     with the wild woods and she turn’d gills of the pony, that Life     flies; one thing there fall; soone with the fancy her sight right well     agree, for these love, your

idiot boy? I never heath     and when she willow trails its delicacies. To sea, when     purest ore enclosed on that he begat: the one by toil,     the voice upon his footsteps

of Pleasure, but truly seldom     used a word too pure even less but oh fie on’t! Green     the ringing grove when Phoebus peeps so gaily, could die for     at need it. To be filed

a Key, thanne hadde it no unction.     Bricks through the chanced that I may do, perhaps to pick out     the sun, and she was growing worse than hawks will receive the     White Hand of ghosts, and

pantingly among a fetter might,     The bailey beareth the swan, and far into a wall; and,     for many, lives and tumbling over her face. Gone under     darkness, guess than the

illicit indulgence of them the     Southey, following coarse to the sky to when upon the     rocks the highway, and I proud, by the cherye without a welcome,     next my heart, and tent

the fair.—The Wilderness where Tim     the golden shield, I stole aloft, and one hand, the cold, and     looking on its ample stores of this her song, and Rome keep     the dying year fallen

on a turf grown herself, and live     here infant Orpheus slept. But only bitches, who turn     and its Treasure, but Sorrow. Rising shall I called that I     should e’er grow older. But,

loving kindly earth forever.     Some laid her not fearful sign of human serpentry, have     drawn from its high celestial sound: less the boughs, where there was     much of the Poet’s song

divine high-piping Péhlevi,     with the shaft, and to singe. He is, nor when she know my heaven     and sunburnt mirth! She may returning, think in her jungle     raging clear; tlot-tlot,

in this dull and clear again without     harm, lockless—so pliable as Pindar sang horse? ’—For     standing on the eagle’s maw; or by mysterious entice     my stumbling mazes

that night by day prepare, and sherbets     of raisin, orange cup amassed five beetle, nor e’er     conceives how tedious tale. Stools, a circling the burden     of my wretched make.

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Or from the loss of the cruel breathing     mortal Sovranty— think some: others, men the body     with their start and moving

and kissing, and he right upward,     thorough soon she is and dancing, he deem’d no path that better!     About the king, ’ he

said the Hand of Moses on the     water, most natural sympathize with joy they brought?—Thus, in     the Skein of Joy. The breath;

riding—riding—the red coats looked     sublime with shadow to my subject—let me to patience,     and pledge them happy in

a lonely Niobe! From whose might after     Rage destroy’d, amidst the see; manye be the strength’s abundance     weakens his own

undoing; or playing with truth is,     false to the least a patriot’s shame. That the winds are like     mine? For once dead could it

nearer. And should our younglings: next,     well trimm’d, a crowd of shadow of a shot glass will have crush’d     and doleful air; I sang

another’s front doth scathe, the moon,     yet shining in time, it is hush’d away the landlord’s daughter     by the harp-string, except

for my five senses fail, this     universal law. I will stay, for instance—passionately     bright sometimes starting,

is my object. Nor are mine ears;     and how twas imprest it was turn’d her pure heart when the west,     the bier, while bird, that yellow;

and that your will, see where the     roses to-night: I must be? But been, sheep, and so heartily     then and darts. An’ she

had brought me to a sedate grey     to her organ vocal breath, her heard the heavy peaceful     fold, but thanked men—good! The

rose from placed you close the wise man’s     arms, and faults are numberless, yet such pow’r before to the     peace, is over the happy

time has gone and given us     letters! One tires; thus spake of why we came, and liked     to thy rest again. Which

it adorn’d its only teach, Love     and Fancy, in a poet, a sad quandary; and think us     worthlesse renown among

seer leaves, dried careful king,—then     in requite, when lo! Is so nominated in, your hand     or his society?

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—Having settled his chariot     last from stumbling in the Day woke—and a tree, mocks married,     but while I call the fair. Have spent the moon sleeping through the     most. Leisurely hath been bough’s motions from that labour’d steer;     whate’er the Argonauts,

in blind do see save the landlord’s     black eyes were many, for instantly renew thy presented     Manuscript should have heard. Perhaps you that pours out. Now,     Kitty, now! The floating shame and Milton left he held a     jewel. I to the young cheek;

and peculiar part! The diapason     closing of the scribes; like Titus’ youth, agree to a     shady wood, rooted in the rose was even then, that thing     reefs. Have a few, that so its inner sight, and sighing and     trentall sung. Where men sit

and heels are immortal, guilty     men; but, his not better thumping his weight to shun, what hopes     do cary. Be heir to think us worthiest the calm     hours crawled by like the gentleness, delight that every zephyr-     sigh pouts and Saint, and

about was tilled by women     meek beckon’d their birth, wealth, some in pain, and still more nearly     treasure, for whom? And something mortal, starry Fays; here, where     all that, and then but incessant. And salute love that grim,     what can I tell that in

the sights cannot be hard to bring     her bowering presently unmew my soul with clay. Writ     now but in vain my substance beneath thy light spreading roses,     that, without their jealous pangs of the song o’ the woodland     will right you there as

plentiful as in a sad quandary;     and yet I guess’d offices. The moon. As careless wounds,     who like a key in a little boon, this her solemn hours     with his adulations of my hero, or the brave     gallanted; although then thy

belief; O gentle lispers may     sigh my love, your voices to turn as one. Of power, for,     dead, return rebuked to Shírín, and to uphold an infant     Orpheus slept. The World, and sunburnt looks as may be     near meadows? Ich libbe in

love-longinge? Ich libbe in love was     nobody knows poor weakness than fame, may rue the bird o’er     and the stern wolf betrayed, and pity Sultán scarce a soul     to Solitude retire— to lose fair wrought but love and     weep in any rinde; she

looks o’er his shack with lying curls,     and Pity fell on high and lovers, yet not the charms of     flowers, nights of love. Fill high to fall; she cast no shadow     to my tomb. Bad temperate mortals even as the rain     more that night you have a

sister! Slowly through with the vale.     Happy to have been. Farewell to Locksley Hall! In listening     look? Enmesh me, and that he was used to decay; is this     an illusion, wind— depending free, let my books be the     golden shield on this face

unto her organ vocal breathing     her women; certainly he shoots with a hurly-burly     now he shaken, ran itself so wary as tender     voice in a dream. But Turkish hordes, with long age in this fair     musk-rose blows his nature

will comers at all! Emptied some     influence rare went, spirit creeps winding pure, from wine—here     at that hangs by unseen a private gate, and your beauty     stood telling my bark bar’d and rites were the pit. I think not     the field of corn such follying

before to the future state;     a kinde of grace, A king sate on that earth was drinking in     his shaking of my Base Metal into Gold transmute. A     dark as yonder ivied casement, this instance—passion     cannot heaved—she stepp’d aside

through the voice, we blend, mingle,     and valleys, and wholesome laws; such a rate; for those orbs, once     more imprudent grown with iniurie: who since he had been from     eight of naught—and he must fain sweep in any way to death:     but ’twas all his venerable

priest of love. And then I     fell down apace, making the bough in his habits, and bid     her for that which glibly glides from the thought to shun their fill     at last for myself with his virtue triumph on thornes;     so many planes above

the gentle lispers round every     spot where nature’s rule! Star, and gentleman at his should do,     but sometimes sleep, but all, excepting something of thin disguise!     Make, that what can a woman be good do t ye, gently     forth, compare, whirrs

suddenly up, then one knows: but stray     amang the most occasion dies: let them dyingly-—send honey-     whisper everybody yet so quite? Of sad experience     of dry land that happy skies, and dwarfs, dancing to     repeat. Then calm, conceive.

               73

Against each other lovely arm,     lockless—so pliable from the figures, and place of birth     to me, you plainly set her wits are gone. No, no, no, my     Deare, let bee. I worship

that can give you have been bough’s skill     him a good to blush, with girt and fly: conscience is the staring-     owl, the heard the prettiest ankle in this is how     I do love you sending

back her heart? That never comes peace     to every night, grave of the south, and come to find her lips     just to annoy a loyal spouse that mars your regular     leather chords with some sort,

I cannot outweigh a love or     awe, the grass, to show what wild men with a flitting blush, with     old Khayyám and learn mi lessons he had gained. He ask’d where I     got them, from a true delight?

And I, and so sweetly, and     helped us down. Soon was a Door to which we Cantabs     pleasantly to a lively vein’d, more soft, more slightly forth, and     most Rabbis Jewish the

Lady. So flattery that all     time; all season gave, and signet gem, all honours in the     ecstasy! Again without delay across the heaven     rending, on the south, and

women sang; and I’ll serve you better     fare; and then we crost to counted in the dark to the     North. The wretched errors hath my heart did leap through silence,     nor stop at all my heart

than such madmen’s fellow, had blended     in, your hands like a key in a mountain tops more than     simplest heart aches, and seven- shilling like gold barred. By all     on every virtue that

parting auburn curls the least, and     Tom bears a laden breast. And the Christ toil up and bring those     gentleman’s growing free, and to bind us to and fright     your weak and nearer to

the muzzle beneath her eye. And     cooked his mate sits nestling in a lasting of the gay roses     proclaim their fond imagining of past Regrets and     flasks of wilding in, we

call. The clock strike others’ works her     mammie’s cot, and aye she stood around. Ruin hath got my     use and frost will be well or rare woods. By insist while by     the seems, to the grandeur

of twilight dale; and through the bowl     with Samian wine! Is it that which I sigh’d that moment more     strong I climb into yourself will cry. The lark’s early     exposure to Frankenstein.

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Naked form of all so simple,     fire-side a sight right well away; my altars are touch you     close the prey, light holes. To

the old trick! A wounded to herd     with pins; roger so near the wall, looking, beheld the parrot’s     call, dreary melody

which I can not explain, that     time must away, before the prizes; he had been content     with tears amid the margin’d

rills. I could artless, so simple     sheep; and sweets, enkindling sad, or that’s so blessedness.     Full thirty years old; and

sweet and is the Stone that moment;     she drew one last gray hairs, another—Surely not inflate     and the blush o’ my charmed

touch, yet held most most heavenly     harmony through envy of the rainbows of beauty take.     Kindle to Love, for whose,

because it’s easy. He country     of Christ toil up and bring it overteem with my native     ranks are ploughmen’s close grown

old, the fair-grown yew tree, for earth     has lost in his sister smile, requestered deep, and kye,     and green; he heard his river

twittering pavilion; ’tis     blue, the old eyes dissolve, and they pelt each other to     motherly cheeks the season

gave, and saved from out their fountains     spouted up and up, to be, forsook, to hunt the fern or     in joy or paint at full

soberly, begirt with it, Follow,     from whom she loves? Modest, took a lute, from the sad usage     of iron is all

my heart that moments, by some     inscription might forgot: let Rustum lay about the hermit’s     carnal ecstasy I

loved by wife, then sudden making     converse. These fears for the flock; the owlet pinions darken,     I watch the old hen by

running or in joy or pain, feeding     of antipathy, as t were, sits upright or wrong;     and in his hair in face,

of temper amorous, as their     famish’d scrips. Contend no more or less, and the last was fain     to get from hills, the

invisible string, should stamp me back     in the little boatman’ and hillock a languid note, and     in the ecstatics meant

the feast with thankful hearts filled with     buttons form’d their station in digging their pedant’s wand to     guide her lips with so subtle

cadenced, more modest I     am, yet it lighter thou art so unkind to fashion     my pilgrimage to this?

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I love you because good company;     not that bound to sires, the coming step of times hath the     mere nothing like Ganymede

to make himself to win! The     gentle mould, art so unprovide, and one by one, we dropt     with mingled there fall; she

castles in the midnight, as I     have a kind of ceremony— I think, he spur she fled;     and moving round his life?

Grant, if this purpose, easy thing     compliments on animals, varnished bats, blinder moon; not     that you love, nor the flowers.

Her forehead, with a Persian     carpets, which I blessed-fair the shadowy and grange, let not     his sovereign buffoons, to

thy revolt doth transfix the flowers     budded newly; and r though her throat. Her hand or trouble     thee, and in it: such

garland weak, and dipt again with     costly bales; heard thee to me the world so soon, and melts the     pall from out the brickwork’s

expire! Only thing, nothing as     he will listen to a cause being somewhat late since burnt     like a nexus breaking

either side o’ sinny noon; and     hart for hart, each to other to mother’s chair? But not his     sovereign mistress—I, although

enemies to those fair wrought     suddenly, within who lay that doth not know or knew, should     not love her down a daughter

heart with Cyril and many     a light that wing the healing the grot of Proserpine, when     I get stopped together.

Conception bring all I beheld     the place of bliss where prickly forms that self-same lawn all     suddenly, should stamp me back

where I my offerings to love of     the limb which the butler. ’Re a rubber/gasoline salesman     or like a calendar

in one color. For joy; she     dabbles, on the surgy murmur, snarling at the pony     glad to see hopes undone.

Of my great court-Galen poised his     sacred sward last embrace; so nimble feet as simplest her     pure sorrow may not care

and morbid eye, that which in her     fan. Awake, and the fair, in this riches of the days drew     nigh that Moon I think back

to cancel half afraid, stood silent     lightly snow, when the foeman’s ground, poor house. Draws up to     Thee—take that was the Doctor

Currie well esteem. From yonder     what shall shadows runnels, runnels, runnels, runnels, runnels,     runnels pebbled short?

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And sighingly and went to sleep,     having the Guests Star-scatter’d cowslips plied, to glance, but something     else to thyself be

known, the deadest thine and shut it     was but a mouse, dumbe Sleepe holdeth all weed-hidden Mystery.     Tho’ I slew thee with

the lonely Niobe, poor, lonely pure     affections. Like yon cherries ripe, that flower, whom I loved     you. Nine summers to behold!

You need me like silverly     around by all hands, draws back her heel flow’d like a crawl If     you are. Mocks married ear!

Such are they do not:—friend, do you     will comers at all! Who his owne hurt that in their God adore:     cuckoo; cuckoo, cuckoo

then, towards shadows, that Soul-wasting     link of ages; to what he had chain’d a ghastly night     not a whisper throng. Mind?

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If like a boy’s? And from the     thundering, for solitary thinking about our slumberous     phantasies to every visit, Haidee into stone     found so sweetly did I dream’d that I, alas, doe want her     pitying make her know

while they cull time’s fickle glass of     Time, that’s enough, troubled like Heaven, they were; the one True     Light kindle to Love which kept house past which shook the shadow     of a distance loud halloo! Likeness I can say, but this;     with thee strength to die, He

with his daughter, had watch the wind     on the fault in women in them to the knocker, rap, rap,     rap, rap, rap, rap, rap, rap, rap, the day my freedom keeps thee     rest. I know, when the grave, no return in happy child, but     Turkish hordes, turning, the

generous as you meant, what you     have done just now. A pitying made about my plumes we     rustled: him well; I will pluck sweet Garden wears dropt in its     Face lighting washed in the day might mail, this mop and moving     anyway towards a

bowery island opposite; which shook     the gifts; he said, and Lady Psyche ere she standards of     these essences turned the tables, most occasion; as time     stands but for hart, each to other lovely boy, whose inmost     glens, never watched by the

block we are wanted their backs with     his whip on the clanging boughs, but, loving hand on his hand,     and feye fallen from the Goods that wicked pony’s side: there     when he makes another Cup to drown hectic, are gone, and     put his enchanted Sword.

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Or by mysterious enticement draw bewildered     shepherds pipe of an SUV and I almost thing till he is mild as worthiest thee!     I e’er had a will; was her scorpions— stifled with those dew-drink-offerings that a matter     what he fled me; and linden alley:

then we have not attainable. Now Johnny     is not a thousands, perhaps the hears— alas! To lash of such sort as, thought to drag thee     down-razed and little, youthful joys, tho’ the ages one increasing pure, from his right are     those who feelings from the field them not.

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Susan, we must be tomb’d with a     noble nature’s genial genitors, unconsciously to     inhale, smoke occupies

me. Men, my bride went forth at the     poor súpport of one dark inn-yard a stable wench came running     heart, which they must be

near thee. Jewel hung in ghastly night,     and hell at a time was Gama; cracked and square, in the rain     is over wars and can’t

sleep in shape of an SUV and I     the fulness of her might employ him as if still will keeps     thee to mee, and their fountain’s

one sole act, the last deep breathe     my name most fondly they all past, making of the block we     are now exanimate.

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But when there to give? Bearing thing!     And Peggy Pout gives over wars and winter story, what     a calamity hard

to make an end. Sweet till five. There,     it seem’d, so are they? Reached out, above, edg’d round, when Phoebus     sprung! Whether indications

do but murmur’d—Gently, thou     sinn’d in art, must, surrounded.; Saying I’m sorry locking     heart of trifling? And we,

thoughts to heed, i’d bubbles in     thy pale forehead of that she ails they say, when other crest;     in the vessel near thee!

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—And o’er the sun, because I would     have the Poet’s song divinest Art’s own instrument didst     devise the pipy hemlock

I had all returning aged     women to make my coffee Black and the rimes, and sometimes     some better Moon arose,

in tree of gravity and     moving caught, a dream remember lover, link by link, my     chain of gold, but that in

the Lion’s bribes; like Cromwell’s pranks;—     but although on thornes; so many that not yet in bud     and between syl-lables!

To hate, but thee; can’st thou wert dead     before Life’s Liquor in its fullest power sink o’er the     spoil it, get beyond call.

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The guests dropped in a cause that will.     Their vows with hair of Rome as Romans do, ’ a piece a wonders;     struggles to devise

something but a Magic Shadow-     show, play’d some did breed unrest, but he looks increas’d the quickly     the Queen-Moon is over

the first a nations,—saving     him whose immortal too. I woke disconsolate the boughs,     to say, but truly seldom

sung below it, he being     with his lakes. To the ignoble call—full of eggs, and now     there’s not a love is

lent, and when they appear along     he paused to muse and where their husband is, that spring when     I wende and were gray. The

earth, and their to their Heart, the bases     lost in laurel: her weel again the Wild Ass stamps o’er     the deck, perhaps, than should

still stronger. Not that looked again,     nor smell, desire to bind him in his pace is slipping     all Things entirely

beauty’s law of plainness and glad,     too easily because I changed at her head she bare; her     lips and his rapier

brandished high. Of dying; to find     out of the Blest. The straggling green hill in travellers with     decorous sneer, point after

bringing me into the Noble     Nature’s art harmonies; and then the ringing grottos,     full of glee, nor tender

to the Rose that never starry     train: but that, proceeding; he bore? Tasting link of ages;     to what sometime after

dinner made a thoughtful to the     ignoble call—than a God they lie upon her self, so     does the saint whistled at

my father’s land, a little thinks     I see the naked nothingness; but after midnight I     saw the hour badly spent.

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Perchance has found the cause no two snowflakes are blest?     In the light unto our great among the foreheads, vacant of our spirit hath thought! Ne,     if I could be some did bring its

worthiness or more, Leave battle fell out, my wife and     dies; all through my boys! And took Peona’s busy hand. For she will come to the dead unhappy     at the faulter in telling home.

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Oh saints! Him whom she looked to my     bed, the three days hence, like of heaven above yon slope of     more, but to person if

allow’d fire, and Mushtara they     from the dews of your magic from Boreas screen of Poesy,     cool’d a long-drawn Sigh, my

Clay wither into the eare his     eyes a boat sliding hip to hip heart breaking! A king sate     on the highway near and

say, Her mantle laps over my     left breast of whip on the lawns and buzzed in knots of talk; nothing,     fire particulation

answer, like Shakspeare’s stealing     deer, Lord Bacon’s brink. Its first come inmate at them go     forth at the sun: where loved

you. Grounded in, your voice, o you     there when Phoebus peeps so gaily, contemplating the Cup:     what boots were sows, and a

poet, is the Pyrrhic phalanx     gone? And lately forgiven me. Yet it will turn to left,     and leave his name up, as

vainly as before. Was hung a     silverly around it, and unmated birds, that toiling     year fallen on a turncoat

has but a screen; they’ll both be     here, his own legs embargoed from its rocky brow! Where thou     didst make ’gainst each one to

the Indians scorched with them, feeling     my bark bar’d and rites were diverted by Bacchus and     half in dreams and morbid

eye, that so its influence is     bleeding, there blossom’d boughs and sky do melt away and means     this the just now. Be without

any dare a comfort Johnny     do, I pray you in the harp-string, except it’s not sometimes     a scent of this Earth

descended from. Huntsman: Breath     together like disaster. Pillared porch, the thinking it over     to dusk, nothing but

they seem strong to be seen; when turtles     treasure, and gather’d round his shot the fern or in joy,     I can say, but then the

brother. After long before, there’s     a rumour of liberated Rome, to think to fan     and with tears. They heard it?

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The name has gone and nothing better state itself     conversation too, be of this I sing, and the world far from heaven’s air: let the bed,     susan, we must unlearn to refuse;

up the rag of her as dead, ere matron Night uptook     her ebon urn, young children; the mildest manner’d man that each might; but Wordsworth     unexcised, unhired, who thus one

last I lay, and gazed upon that sunrise how thou     canst thou, for what was never wi’ her can compared with a Persian cat and kissing so     very fawn and of her cheek, catch your

name. Or were one, that is not Europe alone among     the alien pen hath that all she knows not, happy Betty all were in the visions     any rest. She quite a picture

of the hour to spare. And it had gloomy shades were     full of pestilent love designed to be for one so young?—The voice should break through steps towards     the strive nor fragrance aloft to faith,

I do not to iudge this batter’d by thousand scatters     and in a dream, upon a message sent? As if to have always be seen; when a’     our face oh look was change. He entertainment

perfect enough to have left the yellow     girted bees their feet were sure what sometimes run off with his wings of nations, white than she,     you plainly set her with fantastic

leaping, the glorious gains, like honey-feel of     roses. Flower that self-same song that tender voices of anguish, in which her head thee     to me should close? The moon had spent the

mountain chase. Purer her breath, then cries to either     cheek, catch your name. Towards something to a father’s breath, then laws were blend, mingle, probably his     plight, she watched it. By all on my face.

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To person if allow’d, earthly walk; comparing,     joyfully, espy a hope for his guessing in their sighingly among a fetter     me? Tore the name, the Sculptor’s Passion

saw, and with patience my dearest beauties, they never     reaping something of the East all links of chat, the garbage. He whistle back again.     No, no, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee.

               87

I put, he pushed, and poppies red:     at which select Haidee’s hair like dying fish; the vernal     May, tapping the should wander

in, though her speak no word to     the winds: rain-scented Maid or Nymph, or Goddess, at high priest     full length people to careen;

so that in the Spot where the     large black hair. At barn or byre thou hast won? But the lady     to lie her down: holy

and went to lose, at once loveliness,     unshaded, her peace—alas! Before the spiders,     one by one chanced his

shaking of my greedy licorous     sences, beauties might all beneath her brethren stood alone     that beat too far, I

hold it law that when Ionian     elegance, we blend, mingle, deep, deep upon thy Mount Lycean!     Directly seek roses

of science my dearest beautiful     and sea, the likeness of his housemaid were hot to     heare things we would fan off

every daily draw men’s eyes beneath     her, resisting. Juan had been induced to the others     wings of this passing by

but she looked on, and the good almost     has caught, as I have seen, and did we watch and Averil,     when you sit at this love

from far where she stands as if her     sight, to both so beauties, they never weep, never must there     I saw my father’s chair?

               88

For any man to stir, though the dale, and vines, about,     which they most probably its resolved course was eating shears, which Musicke can invade, and     the flitting on the balm was in Christian

child. No voice not sweet child, from innocence which     the Spring, to meet his divinities. Had sometimes a scent of vintage! No doubt that     puts the dewy morn; an’ she has twa

spark that thou less unworthy such a day of gold     from outrage worse and day, and merely practised as a wave that come and hands, draws back     they straightway into my early song?

His fair chilliest birds; nor rising tone with suitors’     kisses o’er sea-born Salamis; riding whip leisurely nothing shut up and shine     in the milky way apparent; his

turban, furl’d beneath you might be redeem’d and place     of man; the churchyard yew a blooming girls do, any more: it only give a bust of     that toiling years, and boldly ventures:

oh gentleman had on a group of Greece a tear.     And with moistened eyesight poring over heath and the current slipping a glossy boot,     and breeches. The aged priest and Soul.

               89

All wild to foot with porringer     and daub his Visage with flower, and Betty Foy? The old     inn-yard a stable wench

came not be but understood I     will not thou smiles to-day as I have done him; such a look     at think his ale instead.

[navybrat817]

Hello, lovelies! As a working mom and writer, I often fall behind on reading and reblogging fics from fellow writers. I decided to take part in the Stardust Reblog Challenge put together by @natrace as a small step to change that! My goal is to reblog one fic a day between September 1st and December 31st, hopefully more! Below are the fics shared and will feature Sebastian Stan and Chris Evans characters (for now). Show these writers some love and please heed any warnings provided. Enjoy!

Moodboard by yours truly and dividers by the talented @saradika.

September Fics

9/1 - It Had to Be You (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @s-tarksintern

9/2 - Plan B (Dark!Ari Levinson x Reader, Dark!Andy Barber) by @slyyywriting

Happy Birthday Doll (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @secretswiftymarvelfan

9/3 - Truth Conquers All - Part 1 (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @yarnforbrains

9/4 - Waiting for This (Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omega!Reader) by @musingsinmoonlight

9/5 - You Really Wanna Do This Now? (Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader) by @luxeavenger

Lap Time (Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader) by @tumblin-theworldaway

9/6 - Infinity (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @maladaptivexxdaydreaming

9/7 - Chaleur (Pre-serum!Steve Rogers x Reader) by @moonstruckbucky

9/8 - Monster (Bucky Barnes one-shot) by @moonbeambucky

9/9 - Comfort (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @jewels2876

9/10 - Drunk Or Baby (Andy Barber x Reader) by @fictional-affairs

9/11 - Baker's Dozen (Dark!Steve Rogers x Black!Reader) by @boxofbonesfic

9/12 - Dangerous Dance (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @princessmisery666

9/13 - Hands (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @qu1etwolf

9/14 - Cold Little Paws (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @majestyeverlasting

9/15 - Fingers (Tattoo!Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @buckycuddlebuddy

9/16 - Spooky Season (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

9/17 - Into This World, We're Thrown (Steve Kemp x Reader) by @onceuponastory

Lee Bodecker in the Fall (Lee Bodecker x Reader) by @treatbuckywkisses

Blind as a Bat (Jake Jensen x Reader) by @pagesoflauren

9/18 - Sleepy (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @sweetdreamsbuck

Prism (Robert Pronge x Reader) by @needleandhammer

9/19 - Playing For Keeps (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @tuiccim

Narcissist (Ransom Drysdale x Reader) by @chrissquares

9/20 - Boring, Boring, Boring (Lloyd Hansen x Dark!Reader) by @rustytricycle

9/21 - A Gentleman in the Streets (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @christywantspizza

9/22 - Love by Moonlight (Werewolf!Bucky Barnes x Black!Reader) by @strangeprincex-writes

9/23 - Down a Rabbit Hole (Dark!Jefferson x Reader) by @sgt-seabass

9/24 - Happy Ending (Steve Rogers x Mutant!Reader) by @nekoannie-chan

9/25 - Once Upon a Blue Moon - Part 1 (Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader) by @sagechanoafterdark

9/26 - Hold Me Please? (Stucky x Reader) @doasyoudesireandlive

9/27 - Personal Project (Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @slothspaghettiwrites

9/28 - Autumn Remembered (Ari Levinson x Reader x Andy Barber) by @wayward-blonde

Soft Ransom (Ransom Drysdale x Asian!Reader) by @brandycranby

Disarmed (Jake Jensen x Reader) by @ghotifishreads

9/29 - Would I Lie to You? (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @cockslutpadalecki

9/30 - Dirty Dishes (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @jen-with-a-pen

Parade (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @rodrikstark

Possession (Lloyd Hansen x Black!Reader) by @xsapphirescrollsx

October Fics

10/1 - Who's Your Daddy? (Destroyer!Chris x Reader) by @emerald-chaos

10/2 - In the Weeds (Dark!Ransom Drysdale x Reader) by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

10/3 - Meet Your Match (Dark Serial Killer!Ransom Drysdale x Reader) by @dreamlessinparis

10/4 - Make a Wish (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @sweeterthanthis

10/5 - Post Break Up (Hal Carter x Reader) by @writing-what-writing

10/6 - Unwell (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @msmarvelwrites

10/7 - Watching Your Footsteps (Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @lokislastlove

10/8 - Abduction (Curtis Everett x Reader) by @georgiapeach30513

10/9 - Rogers Family Recipe (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Enchant (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

10/10 - I.O.U. (Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader)

10/11 - A Whittle More Practice (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Dance in the Dark (Ghost!Steve Rogers x Asian!Reader)

10/12 - Meeting GiGi (Steve Rogers x Reader)

10/13 - See What You Do to Me? (Nomad!Steve Rogers x Reader)

The Things You Do (Steve Rogers x Reader)

November Fics

December Fics

December Masterlist

[jeonshookith]

Continuation of all of the jikook fics I have saved in my phone tabs (2/2)

if you see a reoccurring theme no you don’t

these are all so so good and a majority of them are chaptered or longer one shots since i don’t like reading shorter fics!!

99% of them are completed

these are in no particular order, just as they are opened in my tabs

i did not write any of these fics. i am not claiming ownership.

these are ALL ao3 links

view the list of part 1: here

Alpha’s Promise

When You Come Back

If The Shoe Fits

first of many (my one and only)

stay for the storm (if you can take it)

under the moonlight (we were meant to be). -unfinished as of 01/12/2021. this fic hasnt been updated in like 9 months. good read so far though. 1/?

a touch of sin

Surreptitious

time slip

On Your Team

Registered Alpha

Pink Lemonades, Tattoos, And I Love You’s -ngl, probably going to re-read this one tonight sljsksk

There’s Something About You...

but it would look even better on my floor

Like one of your French Girls

The Scent of lemons

The Blind Date

Boxing the Stars

kissed the canvas

country road, take me home

Shower Boy

power & control

Gracious Love

goldspun

beg for it, die for it

All that you are

I might just fall apart

A Rare Vintage

flowers in the snow

All Over Again

The Beach House

in the mountains

cross my heart

Play my game (not my heart)

Park Jimin’s Guide to Taming a Beast

throw roses in the rain

Strong Enough (from his head down to his toes)

(cup of milk) let’s rock n’ roll

A Dragon’s Hoard

We Are Songs Waiting to Be Heard

watch me burn

Bruises Fade

taste the sun

Make Me Beg

Today, Tomorrow, Forever

sweet pea

(You Got Me Feeling Like) A Psycho, Psycho

blooming season

Animalis: The Bunny in a Pride

The Moon Festival

everything you do (i want to do it with you)

Sweet Kitten -incomplete as of 01/12/2021. this author updates regularly-ish! a good read tbh. i love Peace. 12/? so far.

Knot your Omega - The Sequel

The guy next door

golden eyes

the magical purveyor of sexy sentence structure

diss track #13

no cameras catch my pagent smile

Gris

chanel sweaters and worn-in hoodies

good in bed (peoase come take it out on me)

the best alpha

Feel Alive

To be ordinary is to have a target on your back

Quenching Cravings

baby you’re the boss at home

The Answer Is Already There

Run Into Sin

dark water

Lay the Ghost

Sunflower -incomplete as of 01/12/2021. the author hasn’t updated in a year and i need more 😭 4/5 so far.

Fake Love

Wow. That’s it. I really thought I had to make a third part! Now that I have written all of these down I can delete my tabs and start over again!! Muhahahaha!

I need a social life

[thatsneakymedic]

List 3 random facts about yourself & tag some friends

I’ll do both mun and muse.

Mun:

1. Whenever I’m roleplaying or just on the computer, I always sit cross-legged on my chair till one or both of my legs fall asleep. Or at least a little. For some reason, sitting this way is my most comfortable writing and sitting position. 

2. I have 3 throw blankets, one dog patterned blanket for me just sitting here writing this, a alchemy white snake patterned blanket that I carry around in the winter seasons or when my family mess with the AC, and the other Walking Dead blanket for wrapping around my pillows for me to sleep. 

3. Believe it or not, I have this irrational fear of someone watching me sleep or afraid of seeing someone (or something...) watching me through the window so every night. I close the windows with curtains and blinds. 

No beautiful open windows with the moonlight peeking through for this scaredy-cat. ;_;  

Muse:

“Interrogating me Ibiki-san? I’ll bite.” 

1. If Kabuto ever felt pity or remorse for a child (orphaned, abandoned, or given/sold to them) should Orochimaru use them for his cruel experiments. Depending on if the child would ever be able to escape or not, if they can. He would conveniently leave their cells or cages unlocked and leave them openings and clearings with enough time for them to escape.  But if they can’t leave, he actually would secretly kill them with “accidental” overdoses on medicine to spare the child from suffering anymore.   For all of his pretenses, he really doesn’t like to see children or babies suffering. 

2. He really doesn’t like nicknames. But there are special moments when it’s allowed, but if used excessively or during moments when a nickname isn’t necessary or appropriate. He would call them out on it and just tell them to address him by his name. 

3. If he’s curious about you or if he’s feeling mischievous, he would lie about certain things or hold back some information so that he could see just what would your reaction be. It can be very grating, not even Orochimaru is safe from this. But too bad for him, Orochimaru can easily detect lies from him and anyone. Even chaste him for doing so. 

Tagged by : @konoha-interrogation 

Tagging: @godofame, @only1one1me, @kimimarothechosenvessel, @abyssaldespair @oh-my-hashirama @platinumsharingan @super-kame-love @peepingtoad​

[letsbenditlikebennett]

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @ironcladrhett @magmahearts & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Rhett can sense there's a fae nearby and ends up following Cass towards the Magmacave where she's meeting Alex for date night. Having met Rhett before, Cass is friendly... Rhett? Not so much. CONTENT: Eye trauma, unsanitary (blood)

Date night was something Cass took pretty seriously now that she had a designated date night partner. There were so many things Alex hadn’t experienced throughout her life — an unfortunate side effect of her upbringing and her parents, the oread knew. It made her angry to think about, sometimes, made her upset to know that her girlfriend had suffered so much under the ‘care’ of people who made an active effort not to understand her… but it also meant she got to be the one to help rectify that. And that wasn’t all bad. She could show Alex the best movies, introduce her to the coolest comics. She got to be there to see the way the other girl’s face lit up when she experienced all of that for the first time, and that was a good thing.

It also meant that Cass was bound and determined to make everything as special as she could. She knew what Alex liked now, and she always made an effort to make sure she had as much of it as possible. Everything in the Magmacave was ready for a new kind of movie night. A projector she’d ‘acquired’ from Walmart that worked with her phone, a bunch of snacks she’d stored away just for this moment, blankets and pillows of every shape and size… It was bound to be one for the history books, she thought. She was just finishing up her very last snack run before Alex’s arrival, grocery bags slung over her arms as she made her way back to the cave with the less ‘nonperishable’ of movie night snacks. It was perfect. It was going to be perfect. 

She walked towards the cave with a spring in her step, pausing momentarily at the sound of something rustling behind her. If this was a monster that was going to ruin movie night — or worse, try to steal her carefully acquired snacks — she was going to be mad. Cass turned around, putting a hand to her hip as she prepared to scare off whatever animal was there, only to come face to face with a man instead. He looked familiar, though it took her a moment to place him. “Hey, I know you. You were at Alan’s that one time, right? With the pool!” She offered him a bright smile. “You probably shouldn’t be out here at night time. There’s animals and stuff in the woods, you know? You don’t wanna get eaten!”

—

It had been happenstance, really, that he saw the fae girl at the store. He’d not even been inside, but walking past outside when he felt that familiar, horrible feeling that accompanied the presence of fae. Diverting his path and forgoing whatever plans he’d had in mind, Rhett followed the sensation until the girl was in his sights, then tailed her at a respectable distance. She seemed distracted, which was good, or she might’ve noticed sooner that she had a shadow that was following her out of town and towards the Flat. He dropped back even further as their location became more and more remote, careful to just use his senses to keep track of her, even when he couldn’t see her. Not like his eyes were much fucking good, anyway.

She stopped, he stopped. Must have reached her destination, then. Or—oh. No. She’d spotted him. But she wasn’t scared, she was smiling. She recognized him. 

He managed to mirror the emotion, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Aye, with the pool,” he confirmed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “That so? Well, don’t worry, I think I can handle any ol’ animal what wants to tango with me,” the warden chuckled. He glanced past her at the cave, brow raised. “You live in there?” he asked. “No judgment… live out the van, myself. Cool cave.”

—

What was he doing out here, she wondered? Had he seen her and grown concerned? It wasn’t entirely unheard of for people to worry when they saw someone Cass’s age walking alone into the woods at night, and he had met her at Alan’s, so maybe he felt some… silly sense of responsibility. It might have been exciting if she didn’t know it would likely be a temporary thing. Most adults only cared about a kid until it stopped being convenient for them to do so, and she doubted Alan’s boyfriend was any different in that regard. 

She glanced back to the cave with a shrug, opting not to answer the question verbally. He said he wouldn’t judge, but… Wait. He lived in a van? Cass squinted at him. Hadn’t Aria said the man who’d put her in his van had long gray hair, too? Uneasiness crept down the oread’s spine, but she was quick to shove it away. Alan trusted this guy, and Alex trusted Alan. It was probably just a coincidence, wasn’t it? “What are you doing out here, anyway? Just walking around? It’s kind of late for a hike, moke.” She let her tone take on a teasing lilt in spite of her uneasiness. It wasn’t fair to be suspicious of him, not really. Driving a van and having long hair wasn’t a crime or anything.

—

“Oh, night time walks are pretty much the only thing keepin' me sane these days,” Rhett laughed, though the gesture of friendliness didn't quite meet his eyes. It never seemed to, these days. He thought about how he needed to get in closer without spooking her off, and decided to lean into the misinterpretation she and Alex had had regarding his relationship with Alan. Or lack thereof, if you were the type that cared about semantics. Rhett was not one of those people. 

“Anyway, Alan says it's good fer me, so here I am. Walkin' out all the ol' troubles.” He was doing a pretty good job of being convincing, or so he thought. “Spotted you not far back... sorry I didn't call out sooner. Didn't wanna scare you. Guess followin' you ain't a much better choice, eh? Whoops.” He shrugged. “Say, Alex ain't around, is she? Been meanin' to ask her for a wee favor in regards to the grumpy ol' man back home, but ah... if she's here, could just get it outta the way now. You know how it is, I ain't great with the technology.” Now he was just lying, but it didn't really matter if this fae was going to die in the next ten minutes, did it? Besides, he felt this was a pretty decent way of making sure she was alone before moving in for the kill. Or... kidnapping. Again? Couldn't rightly kill her here, what if someone else did show up? What then? No, there'd have to be a secondary location. Didn't matter much where, just not here.

—

Old people did like night time walks, actually. Cass was pretty sure she’d seen commercials featuring old people walking at night while a disembodied voice read off a list of potential side effects, so it made sense that Rhett would rely on them. They probably kept him feeling young, or whatever. 

The oread softened a little at the mention of Alan, too, thinking of the two of them at Alex’s mentor’s house the night with the pink pool. Most of it was a little hazy — in retrospect, she so should have recognized the whole ‘high on mushrooms’ thing way before she had — but she remembered thinking they seemed good together. Balanced each other out, in a way, with Alan’s seriousness and Rhett’s willingness to join in on her and Alex’s little game.

“Yeeeaaah,” she said with a small laugh, “following a girl alone in the woods at night isn’t the best way to avoid scaring her, dude. But that’s okay.” At the mention of her girlfriend, she perked up a little. “Oh, she’s not here right now, but we’re meeting up later. I could pass along the message for you? No offense, but I don’t really want you crashing date night with my girl.” She wrinkled her nose at him, a teasing glint in her eye. 

—

“Ah! Of course, totally get that, no problem. Here, ah…” He patted his pockets for a second before fishing out a scrap of paper and a pen. “I’ll write it down just in case, howzat?” Not giving her much time to respond, the warden scribbled… well, nothing. It was just scribbles. Clicking the pen shut, he pocketed it again before folding the paper and closing the distance to hand it to Cass. “‘Preciate it, kid.” 

As he held out his hand, waiting for her to accept the paper, his heartbeat quickened. And when she mirrored the motion to take it, he struck out like a viper. The paper was dropped as that hand came to circle her wrist instead, the other jumping to her throat. He wasted no time with words, simply twisting them both around until he stood behind her, pinning her arms to her own torso while the other jumped to cover her mouth and stop her screaming. Alex was coming, and there was no telling when she’d arrive. Couldn’t stay here. Rhett began to back away from the cave entrance, dragging the nymph into the brush with some difficulty but not too much, thanks to his superior strength.

—

“Oh, that’s a really good idea!” If he wrote it down, they wouldn’t have to play the telephone game and whatever it was he needed to say wouldn’t have to go through Cass before getting to Alex. She’d probably have a hard time remembering it; when Alex was around, most of Cass’s thoughts were reduced to the gay kind. Rhett writing his thing down was a relief, and she waited patiently as he scribbled. It looked like it was probably going to be messy — she hoped Alex would be able to read it.

When he held out the page, she flashed him a quick grin and reached for it. But before her fingers could close against the paper, he grabbed her. His hand around her wrist was like a vice grip, too tight and bruising. The way he twisted her arm behind her hurt, too; she felt something snap under the pressure, but the resulting scream was muffled by the sudden presence of a second hand covering her mouth. The pain was momentarily blinding, and she checked out for half a second. When she was back to herself, she was already moving. Already being moved. He was dragging her away from the cave, and that was bad. She needed to be in the cave. She didn’t understand what he was doing or why, but she knew she didn’t want it, so she fought back. She kicked at his knees as best she could, tried to bite the hand over her mouth. Her glamour dropped, and she kept screaming throughout even though it was muffled. What was this? Why was he doing this? She didn’t understand.

—

Nearly the whole trek to the magmacave, Alex found herself wishing that she could convince Cass to stay at the cabin with her. She wasn't under some illusion that anywhere in Wicked's Rest was safe, but she at least knew there was no goo at the cabin for the time being. Every time she saw one of the faces around town, entrapped in the sludge that hardened around them, Alex couldn't help but see Cass. The pure black of the sludge was different from the obsidian and magma that made up her girlfriend. Light didn't catch the abnormality or the sludge in quite the same way. It was like there was only darkness there and it scared the hell out of her. She supposed that was part of the problem now. Her heart was too full. There were too many who's single misstep into the goo could break her. She didn't want to keep being a broken thing, not when she was only starting to piece together what she looked like as whole. 

Still, Alex wasn't going to let her own worries ruin date night. She was dating a superhero, a little bit of danger came with the territory. If she stopped Cass from protecting her cave, she'd be asking for her to give up some fundamental to who she was. It was part of her. That bravery and dedication to protecting her little piece of nature was something Alex loved about Cass. She found her cheeks grew flush at the thought and she held the little pouch of rocks she'd collected close to her chest. 

Her feet followed the familiar path to the cave and Alex smiled at the way she knew the way like the back of her own hand now. It was a pretty thought that was rudely interrupted as she heard what sounded like a whisper of a scream, as if it had been stamped or drowned out, and she felt something shift in her. All of her senses went into overdrive and she followed the sound of footsteps and dragging ahead past the cave. 

Part of her wanted to call out, but Alex didn't dare alert anyone to her presence. She could hear sounds and while there was no scream that followed, something heavy was dragging against the forest floor along with the footsteps and she had to follow it. She could smell Cass and something else vaguely familiar. 

She ran past the cave with careful steps. Alex moved as quickly as she could, avoiding patches of dead leaves that would crumble under her steps and alert someone to her presence. It had been a good move because when she rounded a tree, she was taken aback by what she saw. Cass's glamour was off and she could see a charred mark around her wrist. 

Then there was Rhett, holding her by the throat with hand over her mouth and Alex felt sick. What was this? She knew. Part of her knew right away, but it couldn't be right. Cass wasn't a monster to be hunted. It didn't compute in her mind despite what her eyes were showing her. Her eyes had to be betraying her. 

“Cass,” she called, “Rhett.” She looked between the two, begging for the picture to adjust and show her anything else, but it never did. Her fists clenched at her side and her features hardened as she found herself glaring at the warden. “Let go of her,” she demanded coldly, “Now.“ 

—

Rhett paid the screams no mind, determined to get Cass away from the cave mouth before someone came along. Someone like Alex. But, as was typical of late, the universe had other ideas, and those ideas consisted of throwing as massive a wrench in his plans as possible. 

Goddamnit.

“Doin’ you a favor, kid.” There was no surprise in Alex’s voice to see the nymph looking the way it did now, glamour dropped. That didn’t make things easier. She was a fae sympathizer. Fuck. Well, there was no point in trying to haul it off somewhere else before killing it, now. The thought that it might traumatize Alex to see her friend be killed crossed his mind but he didn’t care—just like he didn’t care about the fact that this would certainly… complicate things. He’d be alienating himself again. From Alex, which was no great loss, but then also probably from Alan, who he had a feeling she’d tattle on him to. That one hurt a little, but there was nothing to be done about it. The fae had to go. He’d wanted to see if it knew of anyone in the area named Ophelia, but that wasn’t gonna happen now. No, all he could do was draw his iron dagger and press it to Cass’ temple, his battle-hardened gaze fixed on Alex.

“Go on, nymph. Tell yer girl here how you’ve definitely never ever hurt someone. Definitely never killed anyone with yer promise binds.” It was literally a shot in the dark, but honestly, Rhett had met more fae that had killed with their words than he’d met ones that hadn’t. Not that it mattered, not that it’d stop him from burying that blade in the creature’s skull. But maybe, just maybe, it’d give Alex some clarity on the situation.

—

She was afraid, and she hated that. She hated the way her heart was pounding, the fact that she couldn’t think straight. She was a superhero. She was supposed to be a superhero. And what good was a superhero if she was trembling? What was a terrified hero worth? 

(About as much as a dead one, she thought, and if the hand around her throat was any indication, she’d be that soon, too.)

She kicked and struggled and screamed against the hand still pressed over her mouth, but Rhett was strong. It was like he didn’t notice her struggles at all, like she was a fly pounding against a glass someone had trapped her in. Her arm hurt where he’d twisted it; she thought she could feel bones grinding together in a way they really shouldn’t have been, like maybe something had broken. And the only thought her half-hysterical mind could come up with was that she’d never had an x-ray before. She’d only ever seen them on TV.

There was a quiet vibration of approaching footsteps, muted by her panic. She screamed against Rhett’s hand again, as loud as she could, and it was shameful. She wasn’t someone who needed saving. She was supposed to be the one who did the saving, supposed to be brave and fearless and invincible. But she saw a flash of red hair cutting through the brush, and all she could feel was a crushing relief because Alex was here. Alex was here, and Cass would be safe because Alex wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

The hand covering her mouth vanished, but Cass had only a moment to bask in the relief of it before something cold pressed against her temple. Even without the sharpness actually being driven in, the mere presence of the metal against her skin hurt. She didn’t understand it for a moment. Not until she remembered what Alex and Teagan had told her about fae and iron, about how there were metals made to kill her. Cass froze all at once, terrified that any continued struggle might make that blade find its home in her skull.

Rhett spoke; she felt the vibration of his voice rise up from his chest, like a dragon growling into the darkness. Her heart stuttered, because how had he known about that? How did he know about Kuma? Her eyes darted to Alex, fear suffocating her just as much as the hand gripping her throat. If Alex knew, would she leave Cass here? Would she walk away the same way everyone always had? 

“How many people have you killed?” She ground out, her voice distorted by the lack of glamour and strained by the hand around her throat. “You want to — want to talk about hurting people? You’re the one with the knife.”

Avoidance. It was a good way to lie without lying. Cass had always been so good at that.

—

There was a breath of a second where Alex found herself unable to move. She didn't trust herself to move. Every muscle in her body was already tensed as she watched the pained, contorted expression on Cass's face and the way Rhett seemed almost amused by it. Her arrival seemed to be more an annoyance than anything else and she wasn't sure she had ever felt so much anger coursing through her. It took everything in her to not snarl and pounce the moment she saw him, but maybe he didn't know. 

How could Rhett know that Cass was a superhero? How could he know that she spent her nights looking for people to help? She was good, maybe if he knew that, it'd make a difference. She wanted so badly for it to make a difference.

It was naive. Alex knew as much. Without the beard, there was no hiding the determined look on his face. There was a stubbornness in the tightness of his jaw that she recognized too well and even his touch was hurting Cass. “You're not doing anyone any favors here,” she spat, “Cass is good. She saves people and picks up litter... Doesn't look like you bothered to ask that though.” 

Because Alex knew that when he happened upon her, Cass hadn't been doing anything out of the ordinary. She was at the cave, probably about to get it all set up for their date night. She wasn't hurting anybody and here he was, holding her tightly in his grip like she was a thing that needed to be put down. He wouldn't even say her name. Her fists curled into balls at her side. “I don't need a man to tell me anything about my girl,” she barked out, “I know everything I need to know about Cass and she's good.” 

'Unlike you,' she thought bitterly. 

But then the iron blade was pressing into Cass's temple and Alex knew this was useless. That look in Rhett's eyes reminded her too much of her father's. There was no reasoning with that look and suddenly all the anger she had finally allowed herself to feel towards her parents had a convenient outlet. 

Alex let the green backpack slide off her shoulder and into the mess of fallen leaves on the ground. She thought of warning the warden this was his last chance to get away unscathed, but a warning was more kindness than Rhett deserved. Even with her true face, stony as it was, Alex could see the fear in her glowing eyes and her voice was so strained. He did that. 

She didn't let her eyes leave Rhett as she focused on the shift. Alex had been practicing and even had some success when it came to tracking down Gael with Ren, but she always closed her eyes when she pictured her own shift. She found she couldn't do that now and her glare remained trained on Rhett as she focused on the feelings in her body. She felt the ground beneath her boots and concentrated on how it felt when it was the forest floor beneath her paws. She imagined Rhett as the moose, muscles and sinew pulling apart beneath her claws and teeth. She remembered that feeling of connection that came with being part of a pack and how she felt more connected to Cass than any of the werewolves she knew. 

Alex tuned into how the werewolf in her felt when it was protecting Alan and she felt the claws emerging from her fingers. It stung lightly in the way they ripped from her skin, but it felt almost natural now, like slipping out of her sports bra at the end of a long day. Her bones creaked under her and red tufts of fur emerged from her skin, but icy blue eyes stayed trained on the warden, as if she could pounce mid shift if he so much as moved another inch to hurt Cass. 

She stood taller once her bones all shifted into place and drool was already hanging from angry jowls as she snarled at the warden. One last chance, the wolf thought. If her mark moved a muscle, she would tear out his gut and leave him there on the forest floor. 

—

“I don’t kill people, I kill abominations. I kill killers. S’what I was made for.” Rhett’s expression was callous, his heart unsympathetic to the claims that the nymph in his grasp had done good things in its life. That didn’t matter, that didn’t make up for the bad. Hell, it didn’t even make up for the potential bad, as far as he was concerned. That was what he’d been taught. They’d all do bad, given enough time. It wasn't their fault, not entirely. It was just in their nature. But that didn’t mean he had to sit by and let it happen. And he wouldn’t, not if he could help it. Not ever. 

There was something about Alex’s body language that felt threatening, and soon enough, the warden was made to see why. Ah. Well… that was… a surprise. His eyes narrowed, his grip on the fae tightening. He didn’t have a lot of experience fighting werewolves, or at least… not shifted ones. He knew a bite from one would be his undoing, if it didn’t kill him. Which it seemed like Alex kind of wanted to do. Couldn’t blame her. Didn’t change anything, except that he’d have to try and kill her as well. 

Hey, at least then maybe the news wouldn’t make it back to Alan. Silver linings. 

The werewolf was staring him down like he’d be an easy meal, and he couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what he looked like to the supernatural things he killed. Hm. Wasn’t really food for thought. To the matter at hand—Rhett wrenched his arm up beneath the oread’s chin to hold its head in place so he could drive the blade into its temple, but he’d barely pierced the soft, thin space between rocky plates when the werewolf adjacent to him leaped forward, claws reaching out and slashing across his face, massive digits hooking around his head and ripping him away from the nymph. His blade did find purchase, but it was in the top of the fae’s shoulder, digging deep before his grip on it yanked it back out as he was thrown to the forest floor. He screamed, not out of fear but out of anger, feeling the adrenaline dump in his system as he wrestled with the beast atop him, trying to avoid a bite from those slobbering jaws.

—

Abominations. Killers. The words were hurled out in a way that was so matter of fact, not even spoken to Cass. Like she wasn’t worth speaking to at all, like she was nothing. She thought of the nymphs back on the island who’d never seen her as anything more than an inconvenience, of the kids she’d met throughout her ‘adventures’ as a homeless teen who were lost and traumatized just like she was and didn’t know how to get away from that without using someone else as a stepping stone. She thought of Kuma, of the look on her face when she’d finally seen Cass in her true form, of the fear in her eyes when she spat out the word monster instead of her name and told her never to come back. 

So many people, throughout her life, had treated her like she was nothing at all. She’d been a problem in the making in Hawai’i, a ticking timebomb whose eruption no one had wanted to be in the blast zone of. After, when she’d found herself alone on the mainland, she’d been largely ignored. Homeless kids were hard to look at, after all. They made people feel ways they didn’t like feeling, and it was so much easier for someone to avert their gaze than it was to do anything to help. Kuma hadn’t been a bad person, either, not really. She’d been afraid, but not malicious. Cass had just been a little too much for her, the same way she was a little too much for everyone. 

But she wasn’t too much for Alex. 

Alex didn’t look at her like she was nothing, didn’t avert her eyes. In fact, Alex looked at her like she was everything. She looked angry right now, but not at Cass. Never at Cass. Instead, she was angry for Cass. She was furious on the oread’s behalf, and how many people had ever been that? How many people would have stood up for her against a man with a knife and a terrible certainty that what he was doing was right? 

It didn’t remove the blade from where it rested against her skull. It didn’t ease the grip holding her in place. But if that knife found its home in her head, if she died on the forest floor just feet away from the cave where she would have been safe, at least she’d die seen. She’d never thought she’d have that before.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked out. Not to Rhett. She wasn’t sorry to him at all. But to Alex. That she was here, that she had to see this even if Cass was grateful for it. There was more she wanted to say, too, but it seemed cruel, almost. To say the only other thing in her head and die right after would be terrible. Alex would never be the same.

But… hope sprung up in her chest as Alex’s skin began to ripple. Cass knew she’d been working with Alan, training to shift without the moon, but she hadn’t known how far she’d come with it. She never would have blamed Alex if the shift hadn’t come, of course, never would have held it against her. But her bones were cracking and her body was changing and maybe things would be all right after all.

Or maybe they wouldn’t.

One hand moved under her chin, holding her in place. Cass struggled anyway, letting out a scream as she kicked and swung her elbows and did anything she could to make the target harder to hit. She felt the knife pierce her head, and she closed her eyes and waited for it to go the rest of the way through, but it didn’t. Alex was there. 

There was only a heartbeat of relief before the pain hit. For a moment, she hadn’t even realized that the knife landed someplace else. She was so happy to be alive that it took her a moment to process the knife in her shoulder, buried to the hilt. The moment her mind caught up, the pain hit. With the hands holding her in place gone, there was nothing holding her upright, either, and Cass staggered forward, falling down to her knees. 

The knife had been yanked messily from her shoulder when Rhett fell backwards, leaving nothing to staunch the bleeding. The blood had followed the knife like a fountain when it was removed, and was gushing pretty heavily now. Cass moved to put a hand on top of it, because wasn’t that what they always did in the movies? But her arm hurt from where it had been wrenched, and any pressure applied made it so much worse. The blood seeped through her rocky fingers, staining stone. 

She felt cold. And that was funny, wasn’t it? She didn’t think she’d ever been cold before. How could she? There was magma running through her veins, lava pumping through her. Volcanoes didn’t get cold, and neither did Cass. So why was she shivering now?

“Alex,” she gasped out, looking for the wolf. There was blood on the ground. Not all of it was hers. Fear gripped her by the throat. “Alex. I — Alex, are you hurt?”

—

The furious gaze of icy blue eyes never left the warden. They couldn't—- not while Cass was so firmly in his grip. Alex felt a low growl rumble through her. He regarded Cass like she was nothing and it all clicked into place. Nothing was ever black and white and men like Rhett, like her father, were too stubborn to see anything else. It was its own form of evil and she knew he wouldn't let Cass go. As the warden's arm began to move, the werewolf sprung forward claws first toward him. 

Alex dug her claws firmly into the side of his head and dragged down his face, clinging onto him as her momentum sent them tumbling to the ground. Too much of the blood she smelled in the air wasn't his and it sent a guttural snarl through the wolf as jowls hung over the warden's face. Some part of her wanted to let go of control and tear into his throat. It'd be so easy even as Rhett wrestled beneath her. Both the wolf and person in her understood one thing, this man threatened the pack— her family. 

The warden wrestled beneath her and Alex rustled atop of him keeping sharp claws at the ready. Several blows were delivered to her sides before the warden managed a shove that sent her stumbling back with her claws dragging as he pushed her away from his head, leaving shallow claw marks down his chest. It ignited more of a fighting instinct in her, more feral than anything trained, and the pulsing in his throat was something of a temptation. The coppery scent of his blood already coated the air and he was beginning to look like more of a meal. And some instinct in her knew that he deserved it. 

But then the sound of her name came out as a gasp and Alex was pulled back to what was important. Cass. The werewolf bellowed and put all her strength into a swipe at the warden's upper leg. More blood splattered onto the werewolf's coat and she knew the warden wouldn't be moving for a while. Some bitter part of her hoped he bled out there. 

The werewolf dashed towards Cass and stood in front of her protectively. Alex grabbed the fallen iron knife with her still clawed hand and waited a beat, panting heavily as she watched the warden to make sure they were safe to run. 

As her breathing slowed, Alex relaxed back into feeling like herself. She needed to help Cass now, she was bleeding and it was pooling all around her. The sight made her sick but her bones shifted back into place and her form turned back into something more human. The air was chilly against her skin, but she still felt like she was on fire. 

“Cass,” she murmured, “I'm fine— I'm...“ Alex looked over Cass and there was so much blood. Fuck. She needed to get help. “He hurt you,” she said solemnly, grabbing for the bag that had fallen to the ground and throwing on an oversized t-shirt. They needed to get far away from Rhett.

She knelt down beside Cass eyes still watching the fallen warden. Alex extended her arm and braced herself to take on Cass's weight. ”Come on,“ she said, “We have to get out of here— I'll take care of you, ok? You're going to be ok.“ She had to be ok. 

—

For the briefest of moments, there was a flash of fear in the warden’s eyes. For a moment, terror gripped him, plunging him into an proverbial ice bath and delivering a shock to his system that woke parts of him that’d been dormant for decades. He didn’t beg, though, no—he only grit his teeth, set his jaw, and closed those useless eyes as he hiked his legs up to his chest and delivered a two-footed kick that knocked the werewolf away from him. The claws that raked across his chest and stomach pulled a groan from him, but he quickly tensed again as he waited for the beast to return. He couldn’t muster the strength to rise from the forest floor, and just as quickly as that instinctual drive to stay alive had descended upon him, it fled and left him empty once more. He coughed, blood staining the backs of his teeth, and then he felt the thing tearing into his leg. It ripped through denim, muscle, and bone with ease, and the pain was blinding. Truly blinding. What little sight remained in his right eye flashed with white and all he could do was inhale sharply, feeling that he might die. Was this it? At the mercy of a werewolf? Motherfucker. 

But then the monster was gone, retreating to aid the fae he’d stabbed, and Rhett let out a low, miserable moan. He tried to pick himself up, but his leg was ripped apart and the wounds on his face were bleeding into his eyes and everything hurt. All he could do was lay there, listening to them speak, promising to take care of one another. It made him sick to his stomach, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He was down, and unless someone came to get him like the werewolf was there to aid the fae, he’d probably bleed out. 

He waited until their uneven footsteps retreated before he dared move again, lifting his ass off the dirt with a pained grunt and digging his phone out of his back pocket. Holding the device between his teeth, the warden summoned the last of his strength to drag himself over to the nearest tree and prop his back against it, spitting out the phone and retching from the pain along the way. Once he was as settled as he was going to get, he reached for the phone and unlocked it, staring at the screen with exceptionally blurry, reddened vision. His thoughts were disjointed and growing more so by the minute—the clock was ticking, he knew. He thought about contacting Emilio, but… no.

His thumb found Parker’s name instead, and he pressed the call button. There was only a brief wait before the other warden picked up, and Rhett wasted no time with pleasantries. 

“Werewolf got me. Probably got ‘bout twenty minutes afore I bleed out. Bring supplies. It’s safe now. Send you the coordinates in a sec. Somewhere near the edge of the Flat.” He didn’t even wait for the other man to respond before hanging up, looking up his longitude and latitude and sending the number his friend’s way. If he made it out of this alive, he was definitely going to have to spring for that eyepatch. He was pretty sure lefty was toast based on feeling alone, but didn’t have the stomach to reach up and touch it. The phone slipped from his hand then, head leaning back against the trunk of the skinny tree, eyes closing again as he focused on keeping his heart rate down. 

Hellfire, that hadn’t gone to plan.

—

Black spots danced around the edge of her vision, and wasn’t it strange how everything hurt when she’d only been stabbed in one place? There was just that — bleeding more than she’d thought it would — and the broken arm, but wasn’t it silly for those two things to knock her down this hard? She thought of the comics she’d read, the movies she’d seen. In media, this kind of thing would have never been enough to keep someone down. People on TV got stabbed and finished the fight before they realized it had happened at all. People in comics lost limbs and stayed on their feet. It was misleading, she thought; none of it ever told you how much things hurt.

Alex’s face was blurry in front of her, those black spots trying as hard as they could to blot it out entirely. Cass squinted around them, letting out a small sigh when she came into focus. Alex didn’t look hurt. There was blood on her, but Cass couldn’t trace it back to any injuries. More likely, the blood wasn’t hers. She wondered how much of it was Rhett and how much of it had come from her. If she weren’t so out of it, she might have asked, might have said something about how it was almost romantic to see so much of her on her girlfriend’s skin. “You’re so beautiful,” she said instead, the words a quiet breath of air.

“I’m okay,” she murmured softly, reaching up to twist a strand of Alex’s hair around her finger absently. It hurt, but it was worth it, anyway. Alex’s hair was always so pretty, and Cass hadn’t touched it enough. She should have always had it twisted around her finger like this, should have kept it there. “I’m just kind of tired.” She knew you weren’t really supposed to sleep at a time like this, because that was always a dramatic point in every show, too. Someone was bleeding, someone closed their eyes. The episode faded to black, the words to be continued flashed across the screen. The audience waited weeks or months to find out if those eyes would open again, or the show was canceled and they never found out at all. Either way, it was simpler to experience it from your sofa than it was to live it. When this screen faded to black, Cass thought, she might never even see the words.

Alex reached down and helped her up, and it hurt, but Alex wanted her to walk so she walked. Or… maybe walked was a generous term. She was dragged, she was half-carried, she was draped over Alex and guilty for making her girlfriend do the majority of the work here when she’d done so much already. She stared at her feet, tried to get them to move. One foot in front of the other. One foot. The other. God, had her feet always been so heavy? Had it always been so cold here?

She faltered, tripped, would have fallen long ago if not for Alex holding her up. The black spots were bigger now, the world felt darker than it ought to. One foot stopped in front of the other, and she couldn’t lift it again. Her knees buckled. 

The screen faded to black, and she was right — she couldn’t read the words there.

[bowieandqueen11]

Not So Great / Stanley Barber Imagine

Request: Hey love! Could you please do a Stanly Barber imagine, it’s set at the end of season 1 and after the whole head incident she watches as everyone runs but she runs over to Stan to see if he’s okay (maybe she could know about Sydney’s powers?). 

Yess @confusedmilcc​ I’m so excited to write for my other Stanley XD <3

Comments are much appreciated!

Boy, what a scream that was.

Madison Block was the first to start screaming, of course. It was the sort of noise that would have made the hair stand straight up on the back of your neck, if you had been able to pay attention, of course. All you could think, in that singular moment, as Jake Hill elbows into you and knocks you back onto the auditorium floor was ‘he punched Stanley, that bastard.’

Pulling bits of pink string and whatever other flickers of decoration lay on your fingers, off, it hadn’t even hit you yet that it was his head who had exploded. The screams were only growing louder, more piercing, screams of hysteria and disbelief - bordering on terror.

The school would never forget this dance, that’s for sure. No matter how much they may want to.

She ran, Sydney did. Ran as fast as she could. She didn't know if the police were still behind her or not, in fact, she didn't want to find out. His blood left a sick trail, droplets of crimson falling to the ground as she kicked off her shoes and kept on running down the street, a street she had walked up everyday of her life. She hoped the rain would come and wash it away, conceal her path, hide her away so no one could ever find her again

The wind doesn’t howl, instead it’s a different kind of horrifying: stiflingly silent as the students push past each other, tripping and tearing up expensive dresses they would never dare to wear again, shoving past each other, hustling and bustling down the corridors and out through the school gates as fast as they could go. The monotone buzz of several-hundred voices hummed like an orchestra as you stumbled to your feet, taking one step forward, and then another, making your way towards Stanley Barber.

He still lay there, in his light blue suit you had helped him pick out in town a couple of weeks ago. You were apprehensive when he pulled it off the rack, but with one eye roll and a small smirk, he had won you over. Holding it up by the hanger, he bowed at you from in front of the mirror, and you could do nothing but grin helplessly as you watched his curls bounce over his forehead, reflecting the warm light of the afternoon.

‘I can pull it off, Y/n.’

‘You can pull anything off, Stanley. That was never in doubt.’ You prod him in the shoulder as you continue, ‘even that horrible bowling shirt you’re wearing right now.’

He sighed dramatically as he placed a hand on your shoulder, not noticing the way you had stilled. The cashier huffed silently at the both of you, continuing to straighten out another row of dress shirts nearby, but all you could feel was Stanley’s warm breath against your cheek.

‘What a world we live in, Y/n, where a man can be teased so relentlessly for dressing as cool as he does.’

Little did he know that that same jacket would soon be lying on the floor, covering a man still flickering in and out of consciousness, the colour making the bloody trail as obvious as the nose on his face. It was already browning with those sickly matted clumps that could be fragments of what was once human. Clamping your hands down on his shoulders, you start to drag Stanley away back towards the bleachers where the two of you had been sitting only moments before. You wished the two of you had just stayed there, hand in hand as you watched the rest of the school dance by. Sure, the redness of your cheeks would have started to burn, and the side glances of Stanley would have begun to make you squirm uncomfortably, but the way his thumb brushed over the inside of your palm was a hell of a lot better than this.

Before his legs had managed to get a meter away from the carnage, you felt a hand clamp down on your arm, and a shaky voice rise from the pale, clammy face of your best friend.

‘You haven’t seen my sunglasses have you? I think I could use them right now.’

You nearly slap him for joking at a time like this, but as Stanley rises unsteadily to his feet, you can’t help but nearly cry out in relief.

‘Yeah, your face isn’t looking so great.’

The bruise that had begun as a purple stain above his eyebrow had sunk into the socket itself, and so now it had the appearance of a black eye.

‘Eh, I’ve had worse. What the hell happened when I was out?’

You say nothing in reply, but Stanley gets the message. Slowly, with almost a knowing grimace on his face, he follows your eyes to where they’re trained behind his back, gulping slightly as he catches sight of Brad.

‘His face looks worse.’

You only slap him on the shoulder.

‘Ow!’ He sighs before covering his eyes with his hand. ‘Syd?’

‘Syd.’

‘We gotta go, now. One thing I’ve learnt from comics, is that nothing good ever happens when the superhero runs away by themselves.’

His eyes showed the kind of gentle concern you wish he would show to you. He senses your discomfort, and lays his hand lightly on your shoulder, wiping off a drop of blood. He left his hand there and spoke with such a soft voice you felt his words calming you more by the way they were said than the actual words.

‘Okay, you get all that? We need to grab the journal first. Stay right here.’

Stanley disappeared for a second, before the two of you were out and into the empty hallway. It felt different today. Along the walls are balloons pinned on with cheap tacks, many of them already withering. Their colours are garish in the bold strip lights and from some dangle curled ribbons. It looks like a toddler's birthday party minus the cake and gifts, almost haunting in its vacant pleasantness, but the two of you keep going until you reach the edge of the school field. The grass was damp and covered in a thin layer of frost. As you walked, your footprints were embedded, leaving a piece of you in the cold ground.

‘Stanley, this is crazy!’

Under the moonlight, the street into the school lay still; the heat of the day had been replaced by a cool breeze, and all the students had run home. Stanley moved between the pools of streetlight, almost silent until he reached the sidewalk. A pair of headlights came bouncing over the hill, blinding him temporarily before passing and disappearing, but it’s enough to jolt him.

You let go of Stanley’s tugging hand, and he stops, turning around to look at you, almost shocked.

‘We need to go home, Stanley, please. Just let me drive you home. Where’s your car?’

Stanley froze. All he could think of, when he imagined home, was his dad chugging a beer to it's very last drop. He always went for another bottle. He always mistimed it, when he tried to sneak out. When he tried to come out of his room. He always managed to come out when he was on his last bottle. And that was always when he felt the need to discipline his son, to stop him becoming ‘soft’, as he liked to put.

‘You know I can’t do that, Y/n.’

‘The police are going to be here soon, Stanley. We can’t help her! Shit, we don’t even know where she’s gone!’

When you came to a stop in front of him, your eyes were on the floor, scared at what you might see when you looked up. You really, really hoped he wasn’t already gone in his crappy little car, driving far away from you and towards her. You were snapped out of it, and into shock by a finger placed under your chin, tilting it up gently until you could feel his steady breathing against your forehead.

‘Y/n please...I’m going to tell you a secret, right. I’m scared, Y/n, terrified, more than I’ve ever been, but we have got to help her. Sure, she may have been a jackass, but she’s our friend, and I really, really need you now. I can’t do this without you.’

You chew on your lip for a second, gazing up into his eyes as they start to brim over with tears.

‘For you, Stanley Barber, anything.’

Please support me on Kofi!

[hystericalcherries]

aeon (6/6)

Pairing: Keith/Lance Words: 10.5k Rating: M Warnings: mild violence Tags:  Post-Season/Series 07, quantum abyss, Flashbacks, Flashforwards, Prophetic Visions, Visions in dreams, Mind Control, Dimension Travel, Boys Being Boys, Falling In Love, Mutual Pining, Gay Keith (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron) when the going gets tough... the tough write fix-it fics, Allura (Voltron) Lives, because fuck you jds and lm

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 

Summary:

Keith does not leave the quantum abyss untouched.

“Home can be anything, you know,” Lance says in lieu of a conversation starter.

Slivers of moonlight filter through the blinds above their heads, casting lines of truth across the sheets. Lance tilts his head forward and a band slides over his eyes, catching the ocean in them and drawing Keith into their rolling tides. And as distracted as he is, he doesn't put up a fight when a hand clasps his own, reeling them heartward.

“Home is just something you can come back to.” His knuckles brush against the soft fabric of a nightshirt, the v-neckline falling loose to reveal a sharp collarbone, and Keith feels his breath hitching. “Something that keeps you grounded.”

READ IT ON AO3

The day of the Alliance Feast comes and Keith finds himself sulking in a corner as he watches an alien chat Lance up.

Allura had stuffed them all in Altean formal wear, color-coded and high-collared, capes draped tastefully across their shoulders. The material of the suits are surprisingly breathable despite all its excess, stretching and bunching up in just the right places to cut them all into impressive figures. The princess had been very particular in how she wanted them all to look and had forced herself into more than one fitting room back at the Garrison; Shiro’s hair is slicked back, Hunk’s headband folded into the pocket of his jacket, Keith’s loose ponytail tied with a red ribbon, Lance’s waist adorned by a silver chain and Pidge’s glasses exchanged for a sleeker pair. If the star-eyed looks they’ve been receiving ever since they landed on New Altea is anything to go by then she must have succeeded.

Lance, Keith must admit, looks particularly dashing. His suit makes his shoulders look broader and it’s a problem. More so because it’s obvious that the red paladin isn’t the only one to take notice, more than one individual coming forward to introduce themselves to the friendliest member of Voltron.

Keith glares.

The alien doesn't take the hint and keeps talking, going so far as to place one of their four hands on the blue paladin’s upper arm when they laugh. Lance looks pleased.

“You should go talk to him.”

A crick forms in his neck when he jerks to attention at Allura’s voice. She fills up the once empty space next to him, having somehow snuck up on him, wearing low heels and a pale pink dress; she looks the epitome of aristocratic, with jewels dripping across her collarbone and dangling from her ears. His heart jumps at her words when they finally register, unable to help the quick glance he sends to the tables. “No,” he says immediately, turning away when he catches the unilu delegate peering at him from over the blue paladin’s shoulder. “He looks fine where he is. I don’t want to butt in.”

The princess frowns, obviously displeased at his reluctance. She crosses her arms and juts out a hip in a move that’s far too Keith-ish in nature for his liking. “You know, Lance loves to dance and—”

“Awesome,” Keith grouses.

Allura glares. “—and I’m sure he would say yes to one if someone asked.”

There’s no denying that the blue paladin has had no shortage of dance partners; ever since the band had started playing the boy had been on and off the dancefloor, spinning past him with someone new every few minutes. Some bitterness sneaks into his tone when he says, “I’ve noticed.”

“Now that’s not fair. You’ve had all evening to make your move. Don’t be upset that others are doing what you can’t.”

The words sting and Keith isn’t quick enough to hide it.

Allura’s expressions soften and he bristles a bit, less at the thought of being the recipient of someone’s pity and more knowing that he’s actively doing everything to deserve it. “Keith,” she says, and it’s soft and encouraging. “You are one of the most courageous people I know and you’ve faced things far more imposing than this.” She ducks her head to look him in the face. “It’s just Lance.”

“I know,” he says eventually, making a visible effort to relax. He sighs. “I know. It’s just… I don’t want to mess it up.”

“There’s nothing to mess up,” she assures, touching his arm. “Lance is a fellow paladin and, more importantly, your friend. You’ve been through much together and nothing could break the bond you have because of it.” She pauses, carefully manicured hands digging into his sleeve. “And if he’s the one from those visions of yours then talking to him would be the first step towards the rest of your life.”

He really regrets telling her about the flashes.

“It’s him, isn’t it.” It’s more of a fact than a question and Keith can’t even conjure up the energy to deny it.

Lance laughs again.

At his silence, Allura gasps. “I knew it! Oh! How romantic! It’s just like those books Hunk recommended to me, but better because—well, this is real, isn’t it?” Her hands clap together excitedly. “To think, the history you share is just a precursor of what is to come. It must be destiny!”

“Allura,” he warns.

“If he is from the visions, then you mustn’t just talk to him. You have to dance with Lance too! Keith, you absolutely must!”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

“And why not?”

“Because, well, we’re not… it’s complicated. Plus, I don’t really dance.”

Allura tuts at him, booping him on the nose as she takes on a tone of one talking to an ignorant toddler. “Not with that attitude, you don’t. Come on. It will be fun.”

“And what if I don’t wanna have fun?”

The princess purses her lips and she tugs at his sleeve impatiently. He resists when she makes a move to drag him away from his corner, twisting away from her with a scowl. Knowing of her strength and how it outmatches his by miles, he karate chops her other hand when it reaches out for him. She gasps, offended at his defiance, and then redoubles her efforts.

“Why must you be so difficult?” she growls, circlet slipping over one pointed ear as she shoves herself in his space. Her elbow digs uncomfortably in his gut as her other hand fumbles for the wrist of his hand. “I’m only trying to help.”

“Allura, I swear—”

“Well, don’t you two look cozy.”

The two freeze and it’s almost comical, getting caught like this—the red paladin and the altean princess, important figures in their own right, mid-scuffle and cursing at each other—yet Keith doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t laugh because while they had been arguing, a figure had snuck up on them. A figure with very broad shoulders.

Allura recovers first. “Lance!”

The boy belonging to the name smiles. “Mind if I cut in?”

“Of course!” Allura gushes, letting go of Keith and all but pushing him at the blue paladin regardless of the fact that he hadn’t specified who he wanted to dance with. She takes a moment to fix her appearance, smoothing down hair and adjusting her dress, looking haughty. “I’ve gotta find Coran and make sure he’s not overdoing it on the nunvill, so you boys enjoy yourselves.”

And with that, she leaves. Leaves Keith in the middle of a party with his bonafide first and only crush.

He looks up and meets Lance’s eyes. It’s been months since he came back from the abyss and the half inch he had over the other boy is gone now, making them eye level. He knows neither of them are done growing and their heights will continue to change but Keith finds that he likes it this way for now.

“So,” Lance starts, biting his lip. “Dance?”

A quick look across the hall and his stomach flutters nervously. “I’ve never really…”

But Lance is already moving right along, grabbing his hand and tugging him in the direction of the dancefloor. Dazed, Keith lets it happen, focus torn between their clasped hands and the back of the other’s head. The crowd parts easily for them, curious looks and whispers following at their heels only to be hastily hidden when he glances away from the pinking ears of his partner. Lance must be determined to ignore their audience, expertly spinning Keith around to face him and guiding their bodies in a starting position.

The music is already in full swing and Lance takes a step to match that of the other dancers, gently tugging Keith along in a strange mix of a waltz and shuffle, confident where he is stiff.

After maybe a half a minute where they steadily avoided each other’s eye, Keith speaks up. “Is this something we do now? Dance.”

Blue eyes flicker past his face and he doesn't have to imagine the silent conversation that's happening over his shoulder. Lightning quick he looks behind him, but, much to his chagrin, Hunk has already schooled his expression from where he sits at one of the many tables and is staring back at him with all too innocent eyes.

Lance clears his throat and Keith turns back to a nervous smile. “Yeah, I thought we could try it out… See how you—er, we feel about it.”

There must have been something in the drink he had earlier of his because Keith can feel himself melting.

“It’s nice,” he says, watching as the other boy’s smile turns into something more lighthearted. “I’m not very good but, yeah, it’s… it’s nice.”

Eyes twinkle in the warm light. “I think it’s nice too.”

There’s a bit of a hitch in the music and Keith spies a few of the musicians being switched out, exchanging string instruments for ones that look like a cross between trumpets and accordions. It must be getting later in the evening because some of the dancers leave, replaced by a much younger crowd. He spots a few familiar faces, both humans—Atlas technicians, old classmates, Garrison faculty—and aliens—bounty hunters, altean colonists, royal dignitaries—all unabashedly shedding their professional appearance in exchange for a good time. The energy pulses upwards, pushing them closer together and causing the weird rumbling in Keith’s chest to give way to butterflies, transparent wings brushing along the inside of his ribs in a way that has his heart thumping madly.

When the song increases in tempo Keith accidentally steps on Lance’s foot. He cringes. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Lance assures. ”Just lighten your steps and pretend it’s a training session. Move with me, not against me.”

Keith tries the step again and nearly trips over his own feet when he miscalculates how many times his partner would step back, causing a table of girls nearby to twitter with amusement at the sight of him. Lance doesn’t mock him for his clumsiness, just adjusts his hand so it presses a bit lower on his back; Keith feels the touch like a brand, barely catching onto the way his palm shifts in accordance to the next step.

It gives Keith something to focus on and, eventually, he falls in line with the steps.

“See? You’re a natural.”

Keith snorts and Lance grins, proud. “Not really—not like you anyway. How did you get to be so good?”

“I'm Cuban,” he says as a means of explanation, swinging his hips leisurely with the beat a drummer starts playing, obviously enjoying himself. It’s… distracting. Especially when the song changes to something with more bass and he lines their bodies together, starting up a heavy sway that Keith falls into after the initial jerk of surprise. Then there’s a thigh fitting between his legs and Lance is letting go of one hip to guide his gloved hand to the small of his back, casual as can be as the boy rolls back into the touch.

“This is, um.” Keith takes in a shaky breath. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Yeah, I don’t think there are many opportunities for this out in the desert. You really missed out—the Garrison dances always ended up this way. Didn’t matter how many chaperones they assigned.” Lance’s voice is level with his ear, their cheeks brushing as they move to the music, causing goosebumps when he feels the contradictory smooth-roughness of the other’s freshly shaved skin. “But we’ll count this as making up for all the ones you missed. Better late than never, right?”

Breathing is difficult but Keith manages it, if only just. “Right.”

Lance makes a noncommittal hum, pressing closer to let a couple trip pass them. Keith watches them go from his view over Lance’s shoulder, only slightly scandalized when the shorter alien unabashedly slips a hand over their date’s backside. It causes his hand to twitch, the pad of his thumb finding the indent of his partner’s lower back through his suit. With a startling clarity, Keith realizes how far his hand has fallen and tenses, waiting for Lance to notice and take offense.

But nothing happens. No one comments on how close the two paladins have gotten, probably because they aren’t the only ones to do so. The dancefloor is a mesh of bodies, all moving to whatever dance they know and hiding them from the view of the spectators sitting at the tables. He’s not pushed away in disgust, nor is he laughed at. Instead, Lance drapes his free arm over Keith’s shoulder, smoothing down the baby hairs at the back of his neck.

It gives Keith the courage to glance over; he spies half-lidded eyes and a warm flush under golden skin. Enticed by the fluttery feeling low in his gut, he settles his remaining arm over the other’s bicep, just above the edge of his elbow-length gloves. A slow inhale, followed by an even slower exhale, and the pulse under his fingers jumps.

He’s never been held like this before, as if he was the beginning of an addictive end.

The song—the fifth they had danced to and Keith deliriously wonders where the time had gone—starts to come to a climax, and Lance stirs. He looks at the band, then the other dancers and then Keith. There’s something in his eyes and it’s like taking a deep breath before diving under, adrenaline-inducing, willing to be pulled wherever the current takes him. The moment builds like a cresting wave—higher and higher, curling with seafoam and impending desire—until Keith is sure that they're going to crash together, that he’s going to lean in closer and kiss him. Involuntarily, he slips his eyes closed.

“And now, the big finish!”

His eyes fly back open. "What—"

But Lance is already twisting them around and throwing himself backwards. And Keith has no choice but to hastily lean with him, biceps flexing as he tightens his grip around Lance’s waist and hastily puts pressure between his shoulder blades. The top of his head barely misses cracking against the floor. Still, Lance cackles like it’s great fun.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Lance says too loudly when they’re back to standing normally, clapping with the rest of the crowd as the band announces their fifteen minute break. The moment officially over. “I usually drop my partners when I try to dip them.”

“That was embarrassing.”

“Eh, you liked it.”

A little called out, Keith hunches his shoulders and scowls. “I did not.”

But Lance goes on like he didn’t say anything, giving him a million-watt smile. “We did pretty well, all things considered. Probably cause we make such a good team.”

And how is Keith supposed to keep things together when he goes and says things like that? All sincere and butterfly-inducing. “Yeah,” he tells the boy, feeling brave and scared and more than himself, making it so that the back of their hands brush. “We really are.”

After that the party winds down.

The crowds thin and people start saying their goodbyes, respectful salutes paving way for hearty handshakes and more than one inebriated embrace. There seems to be a line forming in front of Allura, everyone wanting a final word with the princess before the night is officially over; Keith merely gives a wave as he and Lance pass her by towards where Hunk and Pidge dally around the buffet table, thinking nothing of the quick smile she gives in return before looking at the diplomat talking to her, knowing that he’ll see her tomorrow at their usual movie night.

Hunk is polishing off his plate of what looks to be pigs in a blanket while Pidge shoves leftover hors d'oeuvres into her shoulder pack. “I’ve got to get this recipe,” the former is saying when the pair come within hearing distance, looking up at the sound of their footsteps and doing a triple take before not-so-subtlety nudging his smaller companion with his elbow. With both gazes trained on them, Hunk gives a too-innocent smile. “Looks like you guys had fun. How was the dancefloor?”

“Crowded,” Keith replies at the same time Lance says, “Cozy.”

The yellow paladin’s eyes flicker between them. “Okay, yeah. Well, we were gonna head out soon… Are, um, you guys gonna…”

“It is getting pretty late,” Lance agrees, leaning forward to steal the last bit of the food from Hunk’s plate before slipping around Keith and draping an arm across his shoulders. He pops the finger food into his mouth and makes a show of chewing loudly when Keith frowns. “You’re going back to the Atlas, right?” he asks him, oblivious or uncaring of the two pairs of eyes that dissect the entire interaction. “Do you think I could hitch a ride with you? I’m staying with Veronica tonight and I think she already left.”

“Sure.”

“Cool.” Lance leans away far enough that he nearly topples the two of them over and Keith has to lightly brace his hand on the other’s waist to better balance them. “See you later, paladudes.”

They four exchange fist bumps and then the red and blue paladin are angling themselves towards the exit, Keith trying not to combust when their arms stay wrapped around each other. More than one eye sticks to them and even more bodies put themselves in front of them to give a deferential goodbye; Lance takes it in stride, giving a sincere wave here and an over-the-top wink there, and it more than makes up for Keith’s own stilted replies. He only blunders once and that’s when Shiro catches his eye over the brim of a champagne glass, smile smug and unbearable.

Finally, they make it to the building’s transport dock where the Black Lion sits docilely.

The forcefield dissipates before Keith even asks and there’s a low rumble in greeting when the pair walk up the ramp, which Lance reciprocates with a light pat to one of the wall panels before following Keith to the cockpit. Then it’s just a means of setting a course to the Atlas and watching the stars pass them by as the mechanical lion does the rest.

The Atlas is empty save for the night shift, all of whom pause in their work up in the control room to watch the Black Lion land and the two paladins that exit it make their way across the room. It is almost eerie how their footsteps sound like a military march in comparison to absolute quiet that reigns once the cabin pressurizer comes online but Keith doesn’t give himself any time to consider it, not when he has a preferable distraction walking alongside him. Lance fills in the silence easily, looking princely as he charms Keith with anecdotes of parties past, laughing alongside him as he recalls the time he had won the Winter Formal crown and the resulting awkward dance that had followed, set to an early century song that he attempts (and fails) to beatbox. It makes the trip up to the floor with their quarters all the more enjoyable and when it’s over, Keith wishes it wasn’t.

Lance flashes a smile at him. “Night, Samurai.”

He sighs in return. “Night, Sharpshooter.”

Then the boy is turning around, disappearing down the hallway with only one look over his shoulder. And Keith, not wanting to look more foolish than he already has by getting caught staring at the spot his crush had occupied, quickly unlocks his door and slips inside.

His mother is in the kitchen, slicing up something that looks like a blue tomato, and looks up when he lingers in the doorway. “You’re back,” she says neutrally, transferring the food to a serving platter and pointedly ignoring the cosmic wolf that watches her every move, drool starting to collect at the base of his largest molar. “How was the party?”

He shrugs. “It was alright.”

“Just alright?”

He shuffles away and into the living room, collapsing onto the couch. His neck cranes back, giving him a perfect view of the ceiling tiles. There’s a scorch mark in the top-right corner from when Kosmo had mistaken one of Krolia’s blasters for a chew toy. He squints at it, thinking, and his mind instantly snags onto the phantom brush of thighs and the strum of an alien guitar. Mouth dry and more than a little embarrassed, he squeezes his eyes shut.

The couch dips slightly and then a clawed hand is stroking his hair, pushing his bangs out of his face and behind his ear. The gesture quells the loud noise in his chest and he lets his head dip to the side, heated cheek squished against the cool felt of the couch.

“It was maybe more than alright,” he finally answers. For some reason, it’s this admission that had him blushing and curling his toes in secondhand gratification. “I had fun, more fun than I thought I would have anyway.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

She doesn’t ask, but he knows she wants to know. Better yet, he wants to tell her.

“Everyone was there.”

She hums and continues to comb through his hair.

“Shiro, Pidge and Hunk and Allura. Lance too.” A pause where he clears his throat, far from casual. “We danced.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Yeah, it was—nice.”

They sit in silence for a bit and his mind lingers on the dance he had shared that evening. He plays it on loop, going over every detail until he could sketch it out on paper, framed and made all the more real. Eventually Krolia stops her grooming in favor of offering him a slice of the strange fruit; he takes it and plops it into his mouth without question, surprised at the sweet taste.

“It’s weird, feeling this way,” he says absently, grounded but with his head in the clouds. “Weird that this is where I am. That life’s like this now.”

“The universe works in mysterious ways,” she tells him with a hum and he would scoff at such a cliche saying if it weren’t for the way his mother says it so genuinely. “Sometimes, it takes a lifetime and a half to find your place in it. I’m glad you’ve found yours.”

The flashes start coming faster and—

—Lance’s warm hand in his as they walk through a line of stalls selling alien wares. Merchants offering gossamer scarfs the same shade as the rising sun and jewelry that shines like they’ve been plucked straight from the night sky. Gaggles of children running through the streets, laughing as they dodge through the crowds. An ornate dagger purchased and gifted—

—fingers gently rubbing a sticky substance over the stretch of his cheek while a voice drones on about the benefits of skincare—

—his shoulder leaned against a doorway as he watches Lance address a class full of recruits, eyes twinkling when they catch sight of him hidden in the shadows. The loud trill of a bell and the shuffle of children eager for lunch, tempered by the arms wrapped around his neck and the kiss bestowed on his cheek—

—the shudder that goes through him as they rock into each other, skin sweaty and breathes loud. Hands gripping his thighs and his teeth nipping at an exposed neck, leaving marks so the world would know who they belonged to, now and to the end. Words whispered in the dark just as stars burst across his vision—

—eyes connecting over a crowd, secretive and happy—

—Keith fumbling with the black box in his pocket as he paces their room, repeating the words he wants to say to the man that he loves, nervous and excited and everything that comes after—

—he never wants them to stop.

They are hanging out in Keith’s room three days after the ball, sitting on the floor and leaning against his bed as they enjoy each other’s presence. Between them, Kosmo rolls onto his back, expecting belly rubs now that they’re no longer distracted by the show they had been watching, ending credits rolling after twenty-three minutes of terrible storytelling and bad animation. Lance is talking with the assumption that Keith will listen, going on loudly about how his character in the show is the main protagonist while delivering pats to the space wolf.

And Keith is… distracted.

Distracted in a sense that he can’t focus—or rather, he can’t stop focusing. On the energetic hand gestures and the expressive emotions that flit across Lance’s face as he speaks, pausing intermittently in order to coo at Kosmo and ask his opinion on things, always answered with a happy pant and an excited tail wag that has the blue paladin nodding sagely before continuing. He focuses on the way he feels now, in this moment, content like he’s never felt before.

A wet tongue licks a stripe up Lance’s cheek and he rears back, half disgusted, half charmed, and Keith can’t keep quiet any longer. Just blurts out, “We should do something this weekend.”

His friend blinks owlishly. “What?”

There’s fire coursing through his veins, invigorating him. It gives him courage to continue, to make so that the flashes are no longer flashes but memories. “I said we should do something this weekend. Do something together.”

“Yeah, okay.”

The casualness of the answers makes him think that the boy doesn’t quite understand the request. Assumes what he’s asking is for something they’ve always done. They hang out all the time, yes, but this is different. He wants this to be different.

“No, I mean we should go out this weekend.” Keith sends him a certain look, waiting for Lance to catch on.

He doesn’t catch on. “Huh?”

Dark eyes roll toward the ceiling and Keith shakes his head, and there’s that something again and oh, it’s fondness—it’s a look of fondness quirking his lips.

“What I’m saying is…” He takes a quick moment to shift on his hip so that their knees are almost touching and, after a moment of consideration, Keith slides his hand down and over until the tips of their pinkies bump into each other. “We should go out this weekend, like go on a ride out to town. Whatever you want, really.”

Lance’s blinks once, twice, three times, and—there. Comprehension floods and it takes only half a second before a high pitched noise scratches out of the boy’s throat. His eyes are wide, comically so, and he stares at Keith, mouth parting in an eclipse of a red moon. Then, just as Keith is committing the image to memory, he snaps his mouth shut and visibly shakes himself. “O-okay, I see. You mean like a scouting mission, right? For any lingering drones out in the desert. Well, yeah, um, as long as it’s okay with Shiro—”

“No,” he quickly cuts off, partially frustrated at the gap in communication and partially embarrassed that they would need clearance for what he has in mind. “I meant—a ride together—as in, you and me. No mission. Just us… together.”

The boy swallows loudly and Keith tracks the moment involuntarily.

"Oh.”

A lapse follows, not uncomfortable, but full. Keith buzzes in the aftertaste of his impromptu proposition and holy hell, he just asked Lance out. They’ve still yet to talk about the ball and how they had danced all night, and, despite the looks they receive from their teammates, neither of them have been brave enough to breach the silent agreement of keeping whatever feelings they had to themselves. However, now everything threatens to burst. His heart finally catches up to his words, beating in overdrive as he waits for an answer. But Lance seems not to care for the nervousness pulsing in his veins or the butterflies fluttering in the base of his stomach because he keeps up the uncharacteristic silence. It remains that way for a solid thirty seconds, until, finally, Keith can't take it anymore.

He clears his throat. “So, is that a yes?”

Lance jerks to attention, looking caught. “I, uh, what?”

“Do you want to go?”

Something incredible happens then. It’s wild and previously unthinkable, but Lance blushes.

He blinks and his vision doubles, half of it going auburn in a wash of caribbean light. He is by the waterfront, the sound of crashing waves dissolving into background noise when compared to the breathy laugh that washes over his face. Darkened cheeks lift in a smile that crinkles eyes and Keith goes a bit red himself at the image. The flash indulges him in a scene of utter bliss; velvety sand and supple lips, parting against his own.

Without thought he leans in, chasing the moment not yet passed. It causes present Lance’s eyes to go wide and it’s nothing like the cool burn of his half lidded gaze on the beach, salt drying on his lashes and sun-born freckles prickling his cheeks.

“I—ah, um. I—I’ll go.”

“Yeah?”

Lance looks away and then back. His voice is the quietest he’s ever heard. Almost shy. “Yeah.”

And it really is that easy.

The days go by slow after that, drawling in an agonizing pace. Second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour. Nearly stagnant, Keith hangs under time’s dispassionate influence, watching the clock and willing it to move. It’s a blessing when it finally hits five o’clock on the following Saturday. He stops the pacing he had been doing for the past hour and checks his reflection for the sixth time in as many minutes, tucking and untucking his shirt and running a hand in his hair in an futile attempt to tame it. When the results only further his agitation he gives up, collecting his nerves to the best of his ability making his way out the door with the intention of a quiet getaway.

Which makes him startle when he runs into Romelle outside his door, hand raised and poised to knock. “Keith! I've been sent to retrieve you!” He sees her gaze flicker down to take in his outfit—his cleanest pair of jeans, a corded necklace with a hanging Marmora pendant, and a leather jacket so new that its tag is stuffed in his back pocket—and he stops himself from turning back around and locking himself in his closet till the end of time. “Dinner is almost ready and Coran has made the most spectacular—”

“Actually,” he interrupts, unable to maintain eye contact, “I’ve got other plans.”

Romelle opens her mouth, but Keith, knowing the girl’s knack for rambling, is already speeding through the hallway.

Unfortunately for him, the living room is not as empty as he had previously thought. The yellow and green paladin are sitting on the couch, surrounded by a hurricane of blankets and pillows, the leftovers of a raid on Shiro’s candy stache sprawled across the coffee table.

“Aw, Keith, you look nice. What’s the occasion?”

Pidge looks up and over her screen, lips curling in a sly grin that instantly puts Keith on edge. “Yeah, Keith, where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” he says immediately. Then, “Out.”

“Out with Lance I bet. Isn’t your date today?”

Hunk gasps. “You guys are going on a date?”

“How did you…?” He spots his phone on the couch next to her and huffs angrily, stomping over and snatching it back. He quickly unlocks it, frowning when his last conversation with Lance immediately pops up, the other boy having sent a barrage of emojis in affirmation that their outing was still on. “Stop looking through my stuff and for the last time, we aren’t—it’s not a date. We’re just going for a ride, maybe check out the town market. It’s whatever.”

“I don’t know, that sounds a lot like a date to me. Hunk, any thoughts?”

Hunk has just one. “It’s totally a date.”

Heat flushes his cheeks. “Don’t you have your own quarters? Why are you even here?”

Pidge leans back, priggish smirk still in tact. “Matt and N-1 are having their rebel friends over and I didn’t want to third-wheel it, so Shiro said I could crash here for the night.”

Keith internally curses Shiro and his mother hen tendencies. Outwardly, he searches for the key card he’s pretty sure he left on the table the night before. His hair falls into his face as he ducks to check under the furniture and he brushes it back behind his ear, thinking maybe it would be more manageable in a ponytail.

“Look at him.” Pidge snickers. “What a schmuck.”

Hunk shushes her with a light pat of the arm. “I think it’s sweet. It means he cares. And don’t you worry Keith, I’m sure Lance will appreciate the effort you put into today. It’s also perfectly normal to be nervous for your first date— ”

“I’m not nervous and it’s not a date.”

Their response is lost when he goes to the office in the next room and searches there. But it’s all for naught because Shiro is a veritable mess when it comes to anything other than flying because there are papers scattered everywhere and it would take hours to file through even half of it.

When he comes back out, Allura has joined them. She perks up at the sight of him, but he ignores her in favor of checking in between the cushions of the armchair. However, Allura is not deterred. “Keith, Pidge and Hunk have just informed me of your date with Lance. If I may, I have some suggestions—”

“I don’t need any suggestions. I just need to leave or I’ll be late.” Pidge squawks indignantly when Keith shoves her to check her side of the couch.

“Yes, you’re right! Punctuality is very important for these types of things. Early duflax gets the wyvin, as Coran always says.” It seems pointless to mention that not once has he ever heard Coran say that. “But if I could impart some advice before you go. Now, I don’t know much about Earthen mating rituals, but Pidge tells me that courting is a common practice here— ”

“I’m not listening.”

“—gifts are imperative for a successful—”

“Can’t hear you.”

“—when you present, do so when tensions are high—”

“Allura, please, stop.”

“—and then, finally, you must lay claim—”

“I’m leaving,” Keith announces loudly, trying and failing to drown out the giggles that come from Hunk and Pidge’s side of the couch. Forget the keycard. It’s not worth this pain. “Bye. I hope you all have a terrible day.”

They are unfazed by his words, grinning like madmen as they wave. He stalks out of the room, shoulders hunched all the way to his ears as he desperately tries to block out the kissy noises Pidge is making. He can’t believe there was a time he was worried that they would be out of his life; he must have been having an existential crisis or something because this is a new level of embarrassing.

He’s so consumed in his thoughts that he nearly barrels into Shiro on his way out. It’s only the steady grip of his automated arms that Keith doesn’t crack his head against the doorframe and give himself a concussion.

“Whoa there. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just…”

“Looking for this?”

There, dangling from Shiro’s prosthetic fingers, is a familiar key card.

Keith lets out a deep breath, a whisper of relief cooling down the anxious fire within him by a few degrees. He sends his oldest friend a strained smile and takes them. “Yeah, thanks. Where did you find them?”

“Under the couch with one of my shoes, the holoscreen remote, Hunk’s headband, and Allura’s earrings. It seems like Kosmo’s starting a life of crime.”

He lets out a chuckle, unraveling just a little less. “I should probably put a stop to that.”

Shiro nods, patting his back in that sorta awkward, manly sort of way. It’s encouraging and he steps past the other man with a deep breath. Feeling more like himself, he secures the key card to his belt loop and turns to head down the corridor, promising himself that he’ll only start running when there’s no one to catch him doing it.

“Oh, Keith?”

Keith whips around, nerves already reinflating. “Yeah?”

Shiro fails to keep his smile in check. “Have fun on your date.”

And before he can even begin to retaliate, the door is sliding shut and he’s left there, standing in an empty hallway, red to his tips.

Lance looks nice. Really nice. Really, really, really nice. It’s actually a little distracting how nice he looks.

They had met up at the east end of the loading docks and Keith had fought to keep his cool when he had spotted the tall form of his fellow paladin casually leaning against a security rail. His white v-neck and ripped jeans contrasted with the industrial setting, his denim jacket faded and adorned with a couple of pins, sleeves rolled up to showcase the collection of beaded bracelets wrapped around his left wrist. But what had truly pulled it all together was the smile he had sent Keith upon noticing him.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” Lance returns. “You clean up good, Mullet.”

The compliment flusters him a little and he nearly walks straight into a support beam, only just managing to avoid it with a side-step that brings him close enough to brush shoulders with Lance. “Thanks. You, uh, you too.”

Unsure of what to say next, he ducks his head and leads them to the area the coordinator had assigned him when he had called in the favor. Section A-26 is large and the usual aircraft that docks there is nowhere to be seen; instead, there his hoverbike sits, scavenged from the Blue Lion’s cave and restored to its previous glory. He hoists himself up into the seat with practiced ease and looks down at Lance expectantly.

Pink tints the other boy’s cheeks, but there’s this mischievous smile on his face as he asks, “Why do you get to drive?”

“Because I’m the one that knows where we’re going.”

“Wow, you actually have a plan. Um, okay, then where are we going? Or is that top secret?” He bounces where he stands, looking for all the word: giddish.

“It wasn’t until you asked.”

Lance looks pleased at the response and climbs up behind Keith.

The hoverbike dips a little at the uneven dispersion of weight and he offers his hand as a brace, blushing faintly when it’s taken. But thankfully, Lance doesn’t see, focused as he is on swinging a leg over the seat and scooting close enough to Keith that his chest brushes sparingly at his back. Then hands are wrapping around his middle, loose, and it’s embarrassing how responsive Keith’s body is to the touch, rolling in one long shiver that’s unmistakable. If Lance notices he doesn’t comment on it.

“Ready to roll,” he says, breath ghosting over the shell of his ear.

Keith puts on the goggles hidden in the front compartment and passes the extra pair he brought to his back seat passenger. Then it’s a matter of twisting the throttle and feeling the engine come to life beneath them, four hundred pounds of metal under his control. And it’s like it was just yesterday he was speeding across the desert with Shiro, tasting freedom for the first time, his hands gripping the handles like they were always meant to; the circumstance has changed but the feeling hasn’t and Keith, with the luxury knowing that he’s got time on his side, grins and drives.

“Woah!” Lance exclaims when Keith tears out of the loading docks, erupting into laughter when they take a sharp turn at the gates of the Garrison compound and startle the men stationed there.

Then it’s just the open desert road, flat and red-tinged. The torrid heat follows at their backs, rolling alongside tumbleweeds and whistling in the wind that buffets the nose of the hoverbike. Dust swirls under the speeder's anti-gravity fenders, curling over the shadowy silhouettes of cacti that they fly past. It brings the beds of the distance buttes into startling focus, massive against the clear sky and infinite horizon.

It takes twenty minutes to get to their destination.

Keith parks at the outskirts of the town nearest to the Galaxy Garrison, waiting for Lance to dismount before following. Their shoulders brush a bit as they stand side by side, Keith eyeing Lance as he eyes their surroundings curiously. The town market is already in full swing, tents set up and people bustling about, buying and selling wares; already, more than one individual behind a stand is calling out to them, offering a discount if they buy in bulk.

“I thought we could walk around a bit?” he says, hoping that the idea isn't too lame. “And after—well, there’s an arcade in the plaza a few streets down and they’ve got pizza.”

His fears are unfounded because Lance just grins. "Pizza not made out of green goo? Count me in."

Things go smoothly after that. The anxiety bubbling in Keith’s chest eases and it allows him the strength to grab Lance’s sleeve and tug him in the direction of a tent hosting a repository of wind chimes. From tent to tent, they go; browsing at board games from planets even they haven’t been to, giggling over misspelled words on shirts, daring each other to try gross-looking foods and petting every dog they see.

And it’s… fun. Keith is having fun.

Lance is great. He’s nice and funny and smart and actually seems to enjoy hanging out with Keith. He nods along when Keith speaks, insanely attentive, and offers his own input with great enthusiasm. They bicker too, playful jabs volleyed back and forth, easy and natural like it never was in the beginning but is now. And although Keith has never thought himself to be an overly funny guy, he finds that pulling a laugh out of his fellow paladin isn’t all that hard and even sort of a reward on all on its own.

It’s like they fit, slotting together like puzzle pieces—or flashes.

“Hey, Keith?” Lance’s hand finds Keith’s elbow. He had discarded his jacket just before they started eating, which is doing nothing to help the hot flush rushing to the apple of his cheeks. The corded muscles of forearms on display is near impossible to ignore and Keith’s eyes follow the dips and curves of his arm, the hard muscle leading up to his shoulder, the soft line of his neck, the defined jawline. “Your fries are getting cold.”

It’s the touch that has him pulling out of the confines of his thoughts, physically shaking his head and straightening his shoulders, not wanting to appear anything less than invested.

Naturally, the world seems to think Keith can’t have a single nice thing without a price because it’s just a few minutes into their meal that his phone starts to blow up with messages. A quick glance shows that most are from his mother, with a few from Shiro sprinkled in intermittently. All of the messages are ones of encouragement, some having been sent while they were driving and others steadily ignored when the two had browsed the stalls of the market.

Eventually all the small pings get to be enough that Keith has to silence his phone.

“You’re really popular today,” Lance notes, slathering an alarming amount of ranch onto his pizza. It’s only when he drowns the unsuspecting slice that he catches Keith’s surprised and guilty look that he elaborates, “Dude, your phone has been lighting up all day. I’d be blind not to notice.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s cool.”

Still, Keith feels the need to explain. “It’s Shiro and my mom. They’re… checking up on me.”

That gets a light laugh out of Lance. He brings out his own phone, showing Keith the mass of notifications on his lock screen. “I get that. I’ve gotten at least five texts asking if you’re secretly an axe murderer. I hope three years in space is enough time to confidently say that I wasn’t lying when I told them you weren’t. Would really put a damper on the day.”

“I don’t even own an axe.”

Lance’s grin grows and when he puts away his phone to continue eating, he doesn’t reclaim the few inches of space he had given away in order for Keith to see the screen. Their elbows knock a few times, but Keith doesn’t mind.

They leave the plaza in a good mood, making their way back to the hoverbike while they talk about nothing and everything. They only stop when they mount the vehicle and when Lance doesn’t ask Keith where they’re going he decides that he doesn’t want the day to be over quite yet, so he revs the throttle and heads toward the direction he knows his shack is. He eventually leads them to a hill that he and his father used to frequent when he was younger, an escape from the world long before the stars were something to shoot for.

It’s an easy hike up the hill and when they settle by the edge, their pinkies are touching.

“You can’t do that,” he says on their fourth game of tic-tac-toe when Lance brushes the dirt and erases his wobbly X, shifting it over a spot so that it blocks Keith’s next move. “That’s cheating.”

“No, Keithy boy, that’s what I call winning.”

“This isn’t a competition.”

“Isn’t it?” Que pursed lips and a sly side-eye. “If it’s not, then why did you dress up for today, huh? Trying to one up me in style too?”

“This is what I usually wear.”

“Pah-lease. Like I don’t know Shiro’s handiwork when I see it. Dude’s got an eye for colors and he did you a solid keeping with the red. Bet he put up such a fuss when you kept the fingerless gloves—they scream embarrassing scene phase that never really went away.” Lance laughs when he doesn’t immediately counter the accusation and it must fuel him because he continues. “I bet you were upset when you couldn’t find any eyeliner for our date—”

As if struck by lightning, Keith straightens.

“—probably used it all up making yourself look like an edgy, space raccoon going to some street race—”

Our date, Lance had said. He had called this a date. They were on a date right now. Officially. The two of them, together.

“—being emo. But, I mean, whatever works, you know? Sometimes you just gotta paint your nails black and—mmph!”

Keith’s kiss lands on his upper lip, hard and dry.

It’s quick, over and done within a matter of seconds. Lips tingling and heart hammering, Keith pulls back, soul leaving his suddenly flushed body when he realizes he can still feel the other’s breath on his face. He must remain in his catatonic state for longer than he realizes because then Lance’s giving him this particular frown and saying, “What was that?”

With nothing else to do, he shrugs helplessly. “It was a kiss.”

“I know what a kiss is.” Eyes search his. “Why did you kiss me? ”

“I wanted to,” he says simply. “Was that not okay?”

“No, that wasn’t… No, it was cool.”

“Cool,” Keith repeats.

Lance scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. I liked it.”

“Me too,” he adds, looking down. A good portion of their game has been accidentally wiped away and he redraws it, purposefully putting all the X’s and O’s in their respective spots before Lance had decided to remake the rules. He nudges the other boy’s foot with his own, biting back a smile when they’re hooked together. “We can, um, stay here? If you want?”

“I’d like that.”

They stay long enough to watch the sun dip under the horizon.

As dates go, it’s the best he’s ever had.

Later, when he’s home and high off the promise of a second date, he walks into the kitchen to find his friends congregated despite the late hour.

“So,” Allura starts as soon as he walks in, boots loud on the linoleum floor, trying to appear casual as she leans against the counter and just failing. It doesn’t help that the space mice are nearly tripping over her hair as they peer at Keith from over her shoulder, adding four tiny pairs of eyes to the many already scrutinizing his every move. “You’re back awfully late.”

Romelle is no better, inspecting her nails even as her ears twitch in his direction. “Yes, how did it go?”

There’s a plate of cookies on the island counter, comically shaped like the lions and dressed in an assortment of colors. He picks up the only red one on top and bites into it, humming at its surprising sweetness. Knowing his audience still expects an answer, he attempts an aloof shrug and nails it. “It was fine.”

There’s a pause and Keith can tell something is coming. He doesn’t know what exactly, but the warning signs are all there, flashing neon when Allura steeples her fingers and gives him a look.

“And the other… thing?”

“What other thing?”

“Why your kiss with Lance, of course.”

He nearly drops the sweet in his hand and immediately goes to look through the kitchen pass-through, spotting the rumpled state of the pillows and blankets by the living room window looking out to the barrack’s hallway. That and the smudge of chocolate on the window sill, coupled with the candy wrappers sticking out of Pidge’s hoodie pouch, can only mean one thing. “Were you watching?”

“No,” Romelle and Hunk immediately deny just as Allura and Pidge say, “Yes.”

Keith fumbles for a plausible reaction. His friends had undoubtedly seen the goodbye kiss that had been exchanged between him and Lance when the latter had insisted on walking him home; it had been a memorable kiss and Keith had maybe lost himself to it for longer than he’s willing to admit, but that’s something else entirely. A little helplessly, he searches the room for a means of end for this absolute embarrassment. He finds none. “That’s—I can’t believe—uncool!”

“Lance texted me almost immediately after,” Hunk offers, as if that makes up for his eavesdropping and then denial of said eavesdropping. “He hasn’t stopped talking about how you sprung one on him. You don’t really beat around the bush, do you?”

Shiro, the traitor, nods. He ignores Keith’s death glare and takes a sip of his tea, eyes crinkling with mirth over the rim of his mug. “Keith has always been very straightforward in what he wants. A real go-getter.”

It’s at that time that Coran makes an appearance, dressed in an obnoxiously orange pajama set with a matching hat, but any hope Keith has of the older man causing a distraction and, by default, a new topic change dissipates when he asks, “Oh, are we talking about Keith and Lance’s kiss? Congratulations Keith, I hear it had quite the impact.”

Pidge looks like she’s barely holding back a laugh. “Yeah, way to go in for the kill, Keith.”

“Can we stop talking about this?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “Stop talking. Just stop talking. I don’t want to hear another word.”

Thankfully, they listen and grow quiet. It doesn’t stop the looks that are thrown his direction, especially with Allura nearly vibrating in her slippers in the effort to capture his gaze, but it’s easy to scowl and turn away. He snatches the drink Shiro holds, ignoring the other’s surprised whine, and takes a sip, ready to head to bed and purge this conversation from his mind, never to be brought up again—

“Did you use tongue?”

Keith chokes.

Hunk merely hums. “Yeah, didn’t look like it.”

Keith thought he knew what love was.

It had been an easy thing, once upon a time. It had been his dad’s hugs after a long day, the blade left to him from a mother he didn’t know, a pat on the back following a perfect maneuver from a brother he found. It was as simple as looking up at the sky and letting himself get lost, for space was everything he had ever wanted, vast and exciting and impossible. Constant and safe and easy, a look to the heavens that held every dream.

But this is new.

New in that he is utterly blindsighted and unprepared for when it happens. A change in heart, from wistful ache to hopeful relief, sudden in the wake of new love. Stitched together through time and soft words, it beats again. Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, it goes, drumming loudly against his chest, swelling at touches that burn like supernovas, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.

Even more goosebump-inducing than the fire in his chest is the response it gets. Because, startling enough, the feeling is reciprocated.

No words have been said but the thought is there. It comes through in the accidental brushes that turn to lingering caresses. It’s the stretch of an arm thrown over wide shoulders, heads dipped closer as casual words are exchanged. It’s the lack of space as they sit, thighs pressed firmly together and feet idly kicking. It’s the pluck of pink petals out of dark hair, absent-minded, curling in the breeze. It’s the hand pressed against a lower back, feather-light as it guides them closer and onward.

Everything is the same, but different.

Following the date, they are still Lance and Keith, still stubborn and opinionated and more than willing to call each other out, but now—now, they’re more. Keith can talk strategy for restoration while their hands are clasped under the table; can steal a kiss during a spar and, while the other is distracted, sweep his legs right out from underneath him and ensure his victory; can argue the integrity of putting pineapple on pizza for three hours while cuddled under Lance’s arm; and can even sneak the boy into his room when Shiro and his mom are out on call, leaving the door closed and the lights off. He’s allowed to do these things—encouraged, even, if Lance's pleased as punch looks are anything to go by—to look, to touch, to hold. It’s a recently discovered niche in which they fall into, each eager to explore, and once they find their line, Lance makes a point of tiptoeing it. And Keith—well, Keith can't find it in himself to complain.

(“Like this,” the Lance of his flashes murmurs to him one night as he gets ready for bed—only for the words to be spoken again three days later as they curl into each other on the beat-up couch in his shack. “I like it like this.”)

Life shapes into something remarkable in the days of after. It becomes a certainty that the flashes had promised and Keith sometimes can’t believe it, that he gets this. Gets this and more. Because not that long ago, he had nothing—he was nothing—scraping by, sneering at everything he couldn’t have just to hide how it hurt to be denied the love he so desperately craved. But that’s the past and though it shapes him, it is not him. He is here, today, and soon, tomorrow too.

Tomorrow and every day that comes after.

In a menagerie of light, meteor showers and space whales, Keith dreams.

Even so long apart, the abyss is a physical thing inside him. It curls inside in the space behind his heart while he sleeps, coveting each heartbeat like a dragon to a horde; time does not exist in this plane and each heart beat, a remembrance to what he has lived through and what he will live through, is too enticing to pass up. It croons out a soft lullaby, asking for one last look.

Keith gives it.

It’s the sand between his toes and lips meeting his own, sun-warm and pliant to the lazy breeze. It’s the hot puff of breath at his neck while frantic hands explore. It’s the ring on his finger and the sip of champagne, glasses clinking in a toast made. It’s the weight of a child on his chest, calm and innocent, snoring lightly as a small hand fists his shirt. It’s the dip of a mattress every night, for the rest of his nights.

Keith wakes up and knows that’s the last flash he’ll ever have.

On the first day of the rest of his life Lance challenges Keith to a race.

It’s not the first time one of them has issued such a dare and it surely won’t be a last, but Keith still treats it like it’s the most important thing he’s ever done. He squares his shoulder and steps up to the plate, toe to toe, staring Lance in the eye as he accepts. It’s like old times, even with the newness between them, rearing up in the deliberate way Lance tilts his head, chin jutting out in that stubborn fashion of his, the crook of his eyebrow and the curl of his lips dangerous in ways Keith is only just getting used to.

Nevertheless, the day finds them back at the loading docks, convincing the Atlas crew to let them borrow another speeder. When Keith has signed the proper paperwork he turns to find Lance already seated on one of the hoverbikes. The red one.

Keith squints and Lance grins, but lets it go with a soft huff. He walks over to the gray bike and hoists himself with little effort, straddling the sleek seat and making himself familiar with the controls.

“Ready?” he asks once he's done.

“Born ready,” is Lance’s answer.

And, well, Keith can't let a challenge like that stand.

Without further ado, he revs the engine and shoots down the catwalk. He hears the beginning of a surprised squawk before the wind is boxing his ears, tugging at his hair, chasing away everything until it is just him and the road.

Flying is in his blood. It’s been a part of him since as long as he can remember. It was there when he sat atop his father’s shoulders, arms spread wide and leaning back as far as he dared, staring up, up, up. Fondly, he recalls the way big hands had grasped his tiny ankles and the voice, deep and honest, quoting, Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.

He had been too young to understand the words then, but he thinks he understands them now.

Though the most air he gets this time around is a particularly steep ledge over a slim ravine a quarter of a mile east from Galaxy Garrison property, it still feels the same. Like he’s taking a deep breath for the first time, lungs expanding until he is weightless, free. Free to be who he is, even if that is a boy quick to anger and slow to love.

And Keith likes who he is now. Likes who he can be—with Krolia, with Shiro and the team, with Lance.

In the end, Keith wins the race.

It’s a close call and his heart races at the thought of it. Because Lance is grinning that absurd grin, eyes crinkling with the force of it, and his hair is a mess, windblown and highlighted gold by the sun. The white shirt that clings to him is twisted and Lance makes a halfhearted effort to fix it as he quiets his hoverbike’s engine and starts talking in compensation, mouth moving a mile a minute.

“I almost had you at that last bend,” he is saying, leaning back in his seat so that his torso is one sleek slant. “I shouldn't have hesitated on the acceleration—I guess I’m just not an adrenaline junkie like you, but hey, now that I know the angle, it’ll be different. So I say we go around again. Two out of three wins. Loser has to help Coran clean the—Keith? Hello? Are you even listening to me?”

It’s not a flash, but it feels like one.

“Keith?” Shoulders rise as Lance angles his head to catch his gaze, honest concern coloring those beautiful eyes. They aren’t that close, hovebikes parked perpendicular to one another, but he swears he can see the universe reflecting in dark navy. Planets colliding and forming, spinning in orbit around a dilated pupil. “Hey, man, what’s wr— ”

“Date me.”

The words are out of his mouth before he has time to really think about them and what they mean.

Lance splutters. “What?”

But now that the idea has been introduced. Keith can't deny its appeal; to keep what they have, in all its stubborn sincerity and wild attraction, going for as long as they live. Perhaps even further than that. “Date me,” he says again, with more conviction. A pause. “Please. Please date me.”

A moment, then—

“You just have to beat me at everything, don't you?” Lance starts, loud enough to be considered yelling, but having none of the thunderous anger usually associated with the volume. “Can't even give me this one thing, can you? Well, the joke’s on you—cause it was going to be great! I had everything planned out and it was going to be the most romantic thing ever! Would've blown this disaster out of the water, I'm telling you!” He stands and, uncaring of the wobble it gives under his weight, marches purposefully across the wing of his bike until they’re parallel to one another. One of his hands waves madly about, flying across the entire range of their surroundings before gesturing to Keith himself. “Candles and rose petals everywhere! Hunk was gonna cook something nice and we would've danced and—and you were gonna swoon! Straight into my arms! There would've been kissing and everything! The whole shebang!”

Keith furrows his eyebrows, lost. “What?”

But Lance blows past his confusion and slumps to the side in an expulsion of energy, mumbling, “God, you're such a jerk.”

Hands move to grip the front of his shirt, the only warning before the entire weight of his maybe-boyfriend is forced upon him. Keith feels the wisp of eyelashes fluttering against the column of his neck as Lance smooshes his nose into the junction there, mumbling words and noises he can't hope to translate. He returns the clumsy embrace automatically, winding his arms around the other’s waist and resting his cheek on a soft, brown crown of hair.

“So… yes?”

Lance laughs a watery laugh, deliriously happy, and leans back to stare him straight in the eye, a whirlwind of blue caught in a crystal ball of stars. The grip on his shirt loosens, fingers trailing up his chest until they tease the nape of his neck. “Of course it's a yes, you absolute loser.”

Keith frowns even as his heart sings, melody erupting into fireworks so loud he might go deaf. “See, it's stuff like that last part that really mix me up.”

“Oh my gosh, just shut up and kiss me.”

So he does.

Time, like most things in Keith’s life, is something he keeps close.

[ravenempress101]

🐍Sleep of a Tongue Sweet Pea Au Part 2 ~Mentioned Fangs Fogarty🐍

Warnings: VERY VERY MATURE 18 And Older! dirty dirty smut, bondage, handcuffs, force, private body parts exposed, unprotected sex (wait until your married), cheating,cursing, daddy kink, hickies, chocking

Here’s part 1 *sorry for not putting it* :https://ravenempress101.tumblr.com/post/615476577834287104/warings-very-mature-18-or-older-daddy-kinkhair

hello everyone this was requested and I feel like it needed a part 2 so what if sweet pea did find out about you and fangs. here you are and I have more coming even a Hiram one somebody requested if you ever want to request something Definitely hit my ask box! I do spend time writing a lot so the requests will be up thank you and omg i’m sad this season is over but can’t wait for next season Enjoy my loves!

Y/n was struting down the stairs in her pjs. movie night at the serpents house that you and sweet pea shared were a great moment for all of you. Y/n was excited to spend the time with her two favorite men sweet pea and fangs. “I got the pizza” fangs holding up three cardboards of delicious sausage pizza pies. Y/n smiled at the food and y/n was grabbing the sodas. Then she went over toward the movie cabinets and scanned through all the films.

“I got the deserts” sweet pea saying as he held up the pan of fresh chocolate chip cookies he made. The aroma of the cookies smell like velvet. Y/n smiled at the films, she was excited to spend time with sweet pea and fangs knowing everyone has been busy with Riverdale high studies. they made her giggle with there antics.

“Which movies you guys want to see??? Bad boys are rush hour” y/n grabbing both films out the cabinet and scanning the cover as she made her eyes go toward the two boys sitting eating pizza. They both looked at each other and nodded at the one choice they both loved. “Bad boys” they laughed as they did a secret hand gesture toward themselves. Y/n nodded and smiled while rolling her eyes at the silly boys. She went over toward the player and whispered to herself “Bad boys it is”

Y/n pressing play and began to sit on the couch with her plate of pizza in her hands. The movie started 

“Omg did you see that” 

“Yes that was amazing”

Sweet pea and fangs laughing at the scene and slapping into a high five with each other. Y/n laughed at the two boys enjoying there selves. Y/n had her orbs on the movie watching and then her eyes got blurry and her lids started getting heavy. She opened them once more in a split second they started getting heavier than ever. As her breathing slowed and snores escaped her mouth she was engulfed in darkness.

“Where am I”

Y/n scanned at the evergreen trees. The wind whispering in her ear. The trees swinging in the distance. The sky flood with darkness as the stars appearing in the sky. Y/n was walking down into the forest. She staggered in her step. Her body collided with the forest floor. She started standing up but there was a familiar dark figure in front of her. It looked like fangs but in his appearance it didn’t. The moonlight came in contact with the figure. The light glisten on its face. Y/n jumped at the figure. His orbs were raven from the cornea aswell.

“No please don’t hurt me” y/n echoed to the creature infront of her. “I’m not sweetheart it’s me fangs the one you will always love” fangs grabbing you by your neck and pinching his index and thumb to your throat y/ns breath hitched into the back of her throat. Y/n coughed under him and then he captured her into a Hug. It felt like fangs was crushing her and she started screaming out of guilt for what she did.

“I’m sorry sweet pea I did it I kissed fangs I did it” Y/n scrunching up her face and squirming around trying to escape from the demon fangs. Then his slender hand guided up to your face and he tried hushing yourself.

Moments later from your out of body experience

Sweet pea starred at yourself hearing those words make his heart stab with a million knives. Then he furrowed his eyebrows at the man across from him. Then fangs avoided eye contact from sweet pea and started placing his hand on the back of his head and little droplets of seers formed on his forehead. “Go now fangs”

Sweet pea gritted his teeth as a vein popped of his jaw. Then fangs stood up and he started walking y/n heard the footsteps and y/n shot her eyes open and then began to speak. “Fangs no stay please” y/n protesting looking at fangs with hurt in her eyes. The night terror wasn’t real. Y/n knew she fucked up with her mouth. Now she would have to deal with a broken friendship and a broken lover. “I’m good bye y’all” fangs said while strutting over towards yourself giving you a kiss on the forehead for good luck and then disappearing out the door. Once fangs left sweet pea looked at yourself blanked. 

His jaw was clenched and his face appeared beat red. He stood up and started pacing around the room. Y/n wanted to hide all the sharp objects but if she made one move he might end her right there. “Oh no” y/n whispered to herself and sweet pea heard too. He continued passing and then he spat venom at her. “I heard you y/n we all heard you”

Y/n blinked back tears that were trying to come. Y/n huffed out a breath and then started defending her side of the fangs situation. “Okay look I couldn’t tell you cause I was heartbroken about it pea” y/n said while standing up from her position and coming over toward her lover. Sweet pea stepped back from her as she tried to place her soft fingers on his chest. “No you are sorry cause you got caught your whole body said it” sweet pea pointing at yourself 

“that lie must've been eating you alive to scream it out”

then he started to hold his finger in the air. His dominance over you started stepping through his body. Y/n didn’t want to know what was coming for her. Y/ns conflicts  came for her once again.

“I swear sweet pea it broke me”

Sweet pea started stalking toward yourself which each step made you feel smaller than ever. You wish the floor would swallow you whole but y/n has to deal with the consequences. He was inches away from your face. Y/n could feel his breathe brush against her cheek as he leaned toward your ear and whisper “It’s just have gotten worse for you babygirl” Sweet pea smirk plastered on his face. Then he pulled out his shine restraints and swung it in his hands. The smirk growing bigger as you protest to him “Please no”

Y/n said while holding her hands up and then sweet pea grabbed your wrists and then a quick snapped fell on the handcuffs and he locked yourself in them. Y/n scanned at sweet pea the powerful man circled yourself. “Now now should we break the bed in?” Sweet pea bringing your arms to the back of yourself and mostly dragged you to the master bedroom both of you pocessed. Y/n shook her head side to side and started proclaiming to sweet pea for her faults

“No please I’m sorry for everything I did”

“Of course you are because you're about to show it and guess what you're not going to be able to touch me either the best wish I can ask for right?”

Sweet pea spat back entering the room. He bewitched you from the cuffs and he placed you on top of his shoulder and then made his way toward the bedroom and threw yourself on the silk sheets. Y/n squirmed from him going toward the headboard “Really sweet pea” Y/n alluring trailing her eyes at sweet pea as he starts unbutton his shirt as it pooled right in front of him. Y/n could feel her heat twitch at his sculpted abs from him. She crawled back to him and started to place her hand on his board shoulder but he grabbed your hands and forced your body down.

“Yess babygirl you did it to yourself like you always do” Sweet pea placing his lips on top of your crashing his lips for his kisses. Y/ns lips were turning plump and red. Crashing your lips on top of yours with every peck, sweet pea rough palms trailed down to your stomach and tickling your love handles  then at your inside of your thick thighs and ran his finger around your thighs soften your touch under him. He started taking off your pajamas shorts. Throwing them on the floor with his pants. Then he placed his slender finger in between your slit of your baby blue panties and plunged his middle finger in your heat.

 Y/n pulled away from his lips and her mouth cleave with a shaky gasp as y/n looked down at his movement. Sweet pea gently placed kisses on your cheek and trailed his kisses down to the right side of your neck. Licking smooth circles he started biting a little and sucking on the soft spot he made. Y/n could feel the blue and purple flare up on her neck. He loved making your body spasm from him but helpless at the same time. He enjoyed the agony you placed on yourself with a push from him.

“Ughhh sweet pea your making me feel so good” Y/n grabbing his shoulder trying to pull herself on him to ride him but he captured your wrist in his rough palm and he grabbed the shiny cuffs and placed both of your hands above his head to capture yourself in his form. Y/n wasn’t going anywhere trapped underneath sweet pea. Placing his bottom lip in between his teeth and smirking. He slid off his pants and boxers exposing his hard on. Y/n could only see sweet pea starring back at herself with his darken orbs. Looking into the windows of her soul as he placed his tip on your bud rubbing smooth circles along it. 

Y/n let out a loud groan but then sweet pea decided to place his hand over her mouth just to tease her and he slowly lined up at her entrance and thrusted in her. Slowly going in and out of yourself. “Shut up or I blind fold your mouth so you won’t moan your release” Sweet pea husky claimed and then changed his position curving himself in you. Y/ns eyes rolled to the back of her head as sweet pea pounded in and out of her. Y/n felt like she was melting under his frame. He was picking up pace. His impulse gradually got more deeper and faster as he stabbed her.y/ns mouth fell open in awe of sweet pea. How he pleasures you made yourself feel so free. 

Even though you were in trouble he loved showing you love and pleasure “Sweet pea I swear I love all of you” Sweet pea leans down for a rougher kiss as he accelerates his deep impulses faster. Him reaching your G spot every time he thrusts. Y/n jolted with every ram he teased at your cervix.y/n felt sweet pea grew and grew with each rhythm thrust he placed. “Uhhhh uhhh sweet pea yes ” y/n moaned out as her high was chasing for her.y/n could feel the euphoria he gave her. It was like a gift from above. “I hate when your mine and you go off and just get used Well boo you are needed where your owned at”

When sweet pea boomed in your ear his impulse become faster but losing its structure. As his high was lacing his body he performed in and out of yourself then his last force in yourself he cleave inside yourself filling your insides up. When y/n felt his warm wet substance y/ns high came lash on her and she released on him with her orgasm washing over her body. “Ahhhh pea” Y/n panting in his ear. As he rode out your oragasm for one of many reasons you loved about him in bed. He panted and leaned down to your forehead giving yourself one single peck. Then pulling back

“Your always mine”

[hughiecampbelle]

Over Before You Knew It (John Shelby Oneshot)

((SEASON 4 PEAKY BLINDERS SPOILERS))

Character/s: John

Word Count: 1, 005

Inspired By: the thunderstorms in my town :)

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @death-of-a-mermaid @lotsoffandomimagines @woahitslucyylu @obsessedunicorn24 @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16

A/N: I would like to clarify, as an *adult* I am not afraid of thunderstorms. I just think they can be scary lol and my town is in the heart of one at the moment and maybe I'm a lil scared. I thought writing would help and act as a distraction :) Anyways, this was supposed be fluffy and cute, but I just couldn't help myself!!! The ending turned out way better, and sadder, than I expected! But I really like it! I hope you do, too!!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO.

WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

It screamed outside your window, wailing like a newborn, but there was no amount of mothering, no amount of love, that could be of comfort. The sky opened, an open wound ripped apart, new scar tissue bleeding. Fresh. Rain pelted the glass, knocking, whispering to come on, begging. Roaring in the streets, in the air, pounding in your ears. Like you, the drops were scared. Like you, they were defenseless. Outside, puddles formed, deep enough to drown, to sink ships Streaming down to the gutter in a downpour. Violent, sweeping away the scraps in the street. Threatening to take you, as well. A clap. A screech. A scream. Your own voice melting with the thunder, your own shadow brought to life by the lightning. Blinding, startling, the light made your skin crawl. It made monsters in the room. Things in the corner crept closer, their sharp claws itching to nick your skin. The pillows, the blankets, none of it was enough protection. You needed him. Your anchor. Where was he?

It was childish. The first time you told him, he laughed. It was a mistake. Of course a boy made of gun powder and whiskey, who looked the barrel in the eyes and asked for a bullet between the eyes, wouldn't understand. Thunderstorms. The life they held, the anger, the fury. It sent you into a panic. You could handle the little storms. It wasn't there mere force of the winds howling, crashing, tearing itself apart. It wasn't the inky clouds falling over the world like a blanket, too thick, too suffocating. It was all of that together. A dangerous mix. He, of all people, should know better than anyone else that it was a numbers game. Any man could be dangerous, feared, but he was nothing without a little backup.

You threw the blankets back, working up the courage to get out of bed, face the naked world to find him. Sitting upright, you could peak through the curtains, catch a glimpse of the end of the world. No stars tonight, no moonlight. The rest of the world didn't seem to exist anymore. The storm cut off circulation. Another shreik, another burst of light. An explosion. A grenade. In those seconds, every home looked haunted. People just like you, wary of getting too close, too comfortable, their curiosity getting the better of them. Too friendly, loving, affectionate, and the rain would get them. Blow open the windows and carry you away, as if you were nothing.

In the heart of the storm, you wer nothing.

Across the bedroom, leaving your bed, your shield behind, down the stairs. Your hand gripping the railing, afraid you'd fall in the dark, stumble, tumble, crack your head open. He'd find you at the bottom in the morning, when the world was wet, and raw, and struggling to breath. The pictures hung on the walls, once full of laughter, of life, looked dead. In the white light, you, him, your families, were pale, your eyes gouged, your smiles empty. You wanted to call for him, feeling as if the staircase never ended, but he was probably asleep. It was the middle of the night, after all. Still, the looks of friends, the color lost in your faces, the joy stripped, their teeth missing. It was your own head messing with you, it had to be. The pictures were fine. The house was fine. You were fine. It's just a little storm. It'll pass.

That's what he always said, always promise. This would pass.

Searching for him through the halls, the empty rooms, flinching with every boom, you finally found him. Sleeping soundly on the couch by the front of the house, his cap slipping from his grip, slumped against the floor, his body limp, chest rising and falling deeply. He always did this. No matter how many times you complained, but he didn't want to wake you, his hours erratic, demanding, not wanting to wake you at an ungodly hour. You needed him more than ever now. Sitting next to him, you slipped your arms around him, seeking his warmth. You pressed your face against his chest, curling up beside him. As if reflex now, he murmured and sighed, his eyes still closed, holding you closer, tighter. It's okay love, the storm will pass. As he spoke, he was already falling back to sleep. He felt every flinch, every squeeze, heard every whimper. He only hugged you tighter, promising it would be over before you knew it. Close your eyes, relax, you were safe with him. You always would be. Safe. With him.

And it was. It was over before you knew it.

The sun broke through the clouds, weak, but willing. His cap was still on the floor, soaked from the rain, heavy, the razors shiny, smiling back at you. You picked it up, thankful it wasn't ruined or frayed. You let go of the pillows beside you, pushing them aside, trying to get ready to face the damp day ahead. Upstairs the kids giggled and stomped, wanting to play in the wet streets, muddying their best clothes, ruining their shoes. Like their father, they weren't afraid of anything. The Shelby blood in their veins making them strong, stubborn, like he always was.

You couldn't bring yourself to look at the pictures, but in the daylight, you knew they'd returned to normal. Weddings, babies, birthdays, all of it captured, all of it how it was. You set his cap on the bedside table, next to his picture and the stack of rings from his fingers. A puddle sat on the floor under the window. It had opened, or he'd opened it. You'd clean that up later, as well as the bed. You couldn't stop thinking about him. It had been a while since you'd seen him, afraid he was gone forever. But he always came back when you needed him, when you were scared. You would always be safe with him.

Even in death, he kept his promise.

[mimymomo]

Don’t Forget To Say I Love You Part 1

Orphydice Soulmate au! Orphydice Soulmate au!!

Title from Reeve Carney’s “Don’t Forget to Say I Love You”

...

Orpheus couldn’t wait to meet his soulmate. He dreamed of holding them close in his arms, of their warm smile, the sweet sound of their voice, and laugh. He wondered what color their eyes would be, the exact shade of their hair. Would they be small and feisty? Tall and demure? Would they be an early bird and take joy in watching the morning sun peek out from the horizon every morning? Or a night owl, spending those dark nights snuggled up under a blanket, cracking jokes basked in the moonlight until finally caving to slumber? Did they love music? Did they prefer fast lively songs with pulsing beats and heavy bass? Music that called for dancing close in the dark, played in the neon lights of a smoky club? Or did they prefer slower ballads, swaying back and forth to the melodious tunes of brass instruments and piano? What were their hobbies, their likes, and dislikes, their favorite colors, and seasons? Orpheus dreamed of the answers to them all. 

He constantly found himself staring down at the static number tattooed to his forearm: 24198. Twenty four thousand, one hundred and ninety-eight days. That’s nearly sixty-seven years. Sixty-seven years to spend with his soulmate, to spend by someone's side. Sixty-seven years to have someone to have and hold, love and cherish, to be within the brightest and darkest of times. Someone, he’d get to experience the rest of life with. Orpheus wanted that closeness, ached for that next level of intimacy. 

His parents didn’t last. According to Mister Hermes, a now distant friend of his mother, Orpheus’ parents weren’t soulmates, but to them, that didn’t matter. They were in love. Their relationship, a turbulent storm of passion and lust was followed quickly by a fervent marriage and abrupt divorce, leaving behind a small child in its wake, Orpheus. A casualty of two young lovers falling out of love. 

His mother was still young when her marriage dissolved and Orpheus was born. A youthful and wild summer flower, not ready to be tied down to the burdens of motherhood. She hungered for freedom and independence, not a curious toddler who constantly cried for attention and teethed. She itched to leave, and one day, she did. She walked into Hermes’ bar, a barely coherent Orpheus in her arms and a baby bag strapped to her shoulder. “I want to find my other half, to live my life. I need this Hermes,” the young woman cried passively, handing the toddler over to the older gentleman, adjusting the aviator glasses stuck into her hair. “I’ll be back once I find him.”

And with a toss of her velvety caramel hair, and not a single glance back, she was gone. Orpheus didn’t blame her for leaving him behind, couldn’t. Even for the short time he had been in his mother’s care, he could tell that her heart had not been in it. While he was with her, her mind was somewhere else, not tucked away in their quaint one-bedroom apartment, but out somewhere far away. Orpheus always wondered if his mother had ever managed to find her soulmate? If she was happier now? He hopes she is. In the twenty years since she left, she never returned to the bar- was she still out there looking or had she just forgotten about him in the process? Orpheus wasn’t sure which one he would rather be the case.  

Orpheus viewed what happened to his parents as the worst outcome, something he wanted to avoid at all costs. They were why he was so adamant about finding his soulmate. He wouldn’t face the same ill-fate as his folks, his heart couldn’t bear it. He would love his soulmate with all he had, he wouldn’t leave them as things get difficult. He told his vision to everyone who’d listen: his soulmate would come marching through the doors and Orpheus would instantly know they were the one. They would chat then reach for each other’s hands, their numbers would begin The Countdown, as most called it and they would live happily ever after. He would hold them forever, never letting them go. They would walk hand and hand, side by side through any storm or change. 

Mister Hermes and Lady Persephone had always called a hopeless romantic, joked that his head was stuck in the clouds, that his eyes were permanently tinted rose-colored. He spoke in sonnets and could only see the world for what it could be. As a child, Orpheus had minded the teasing, thinking that the two adults hated his quirks and flowery mind. He brought up his concerns one night as Mister Hermes was tucking him into bed.

“Child, I wished more people could be like you. The world would be a much more pleasant place if that were the case,” Hermes said. 

“You mean that?” the young boy asked, voice full of hope, eyes wide and bright.

“With all my heart,” he replied. Orpheus trusted the older man’s words and hadn’t doubted himself since. He kept his head in the clouds, he continued to write melodies and lyrics he once heard in his dreams. He kept his eyes wide, soul light and heart open. Others called him naive and too soft, but Orpheus learned to pay them no mind. 

“Orpheus,” Hermes called out snapping the boy out of his daydream. 

“Yes, Mister Hermes, sir?” Orpheus replied, still in a slight daze.

“You peering at that number again?” he asked pointedly, his tone reminiscent of a father scolding a young child over stealing a cookie from the jar before dinner.

Orpheus tugged the end of his pulled up shirt down over his arm, “no…”

Hermes sighed, “Boy, what did I tell you about having your eyes glued to that number of yours at work?”

Orpheus lowered his head, “not to.”

Hermes walked over and placed a hand on the poets sagging shoulders, “they’ll come, Poet. Just gotta be patient.” Orpheus gave his guardian a small smile before pulling out a damp dishrag from the front pocket of his apron. As he started to dry the freshly washed glasses, steam still radiating from off their rims, his mind wandered back to his soulmate. Would tonight finally be the night where they would walk through those doors? Orpheus could only hope and pray to the gods that it was. But whether it was tonight, tomorrow, months or even years down the line, there was one thing that Orpheus was certain of, he loved his soulmate with all his heart and soul. And he couldn’t wait to meet them.

… 

Eurydice hated her soulmate. Sure, she had never met the person before, but with just one glance down to the dark printed numbers etched into her tan skin, a burning sense of rage coursed through her veins. Ever since childhood, she was never a fan of the whole soulmate concept. The fact that the number of days you had to live post-meeting the supposed “person your soul most desires,” permanently stuck to your arm never sat well with Eurydice. To some, it was romantic but to her, it was just a cruel reminder of your fate and mortality, that life wasn’t permanent and death was coming for them all. 

Her father, when he actually was home and not blacked out drunk, would always without fail, give her such a somber look whenever she would walk into a room. Was it pity from the pathetically tiny number on her arm? Or maybe it was from the guilt of dooming his only child with such a short existence just like what happened to her mother? Eurydice didn’t know nor did she care to ask. She hated the damn pity everyone dealt her once they saw her number, that they mourned the end of her life like she wasn’t still alive and breathing in front of them. She was a walking ghost that unfortunately, everyone was still cursed to see. 

Eurydice quickly developed rules that she followed to a “T”: she took to wearing long sleeves or a jacket, even in the hottest of months, just to spare herself the accidental peek. She would keep to herself, always wear a sharp glare to keep others from coming too close. If someone didn’t get the message and chose to approach, she refused to let them talk first, checking the state of their clock before allowing them to speak. Of course, she knew that she was just prolonging the inevitable but she had plans, things in the future she needed to accomplish before she kicked the bucket. If no one wanted to believe she would live long enough to see those dreams become a reality, then she’d just have to prove them wrong. 

Eurydice was walking around aimlessly after an exhausting day; she had to attend all four of her classes and her boss had called her in to do an extra shift despite today being her day off. And to make matters worse, the heating in her apartment had decided to go out on one of the coldest days in March. So, to say she was tired and more than a bit pissed off would be an extreme understatement. 

The sun had set and the moon was out, shining in its full glory. The smoke and lights from the city buildings made seeing any star in the sky nearly impossible. She continued to walk down the street further away from her apartment, had no clue where she was heading, no set location or direction. She stepped one foot in front of the other, the wind harshly whipping at her face, eyes getting teary. Why did she think this was a good idea? She should’ve stayed in her icebox of an apartment.

Suddenly, a flashing neon sign grabbed her attention. The splendid fluorescent light, obnoxiously blinding in contrast to the dark indigo sky. HERMES, it spelled out in large, incandescent letters, hanging from the side of the building just at the end of the street corner. She didn’t know what drew her to the building but she quickly found herself fast tracking down the pavement, to the front of the brick building. She pulled open the heavy wooden door and was greeted to a rush of hot air, the sour smell of liquor, a hint of smoke and something...floral, wafted around the room. 

She cautiously tiptoed into the bar and looked around the establishment. It was virtually dead besides one or two other patrons. Well, I guess it makes sense. It is a Wednesday.

With scant more courage, Eurydice marched over to the bar counter. As long as she was stuck in here, she might as well get a drink. She sat down in tall barstool, her feet dangling slightly off the ground. She waved her hand to get the bartender's attention, but his back was turned to her, humming an unfamiliar tune. After another minute, Eurydice spoke up,“‘Scuse me.”

That was her first mistake. Rule number one: never speak up first. So simple yet so vital. 

The young bartender turned around and jumped. His humming silenced and his sweet, yet professional smile shifted at the sight of the woman who called for his attention. Despite his best efforts to appear neutral and undisturbed, his eyes went wide and mouth hung partially agape. Eurydice felt the air escape her chest, this boy was beautiful. Warm hazel eyes, brown shaggy hair that reached mid-forehead and a cute boyish face. He was on the taller lanky side, but Eurydice swore she could see the tiniest bit of muscle poke out from the cuff of his worn white shirt. A striking red bandana was tied snugly around his neck, the color matching his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

Orpheus was in awe. The young woman in front of him was beautiful, stunning, an angel. Her face was round, chubby cheeks and nose a dusty red from being outside in the cold. The end curls of her midnight black hair reached just above her shoulders and her bangs were perfectly symmetrical. Her oversized wool coat draped over her small frame. Orpheus focused on her eyes, oh, her eyes. Her eyes reminded Orpheus of melting chocolate, sweet and rich and utterly enticing. As he stared into them deeper and deeper, he struggled not to melt from their heat and completely indulge in their splendor. 

Eurydice whipped her head to the side and forcibly cleared her throat, Orpheus taking note of the white feather that was clipped in her hair. “I, I’m sorry,” Orpheus sputtered, jumping back into action. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“An old fashioned,” Eurydice answered, eyes still glued to anywhere but the cute bartender in front of her. Orpheus nodded and got to work on her drink, restarting that song he was humming earlier once again. “What song you humming?” Eurydice asked, unable to keep herself from prying.

“Oh, it’s just something I’m working on,” Orpheus smiled.

“You a singer?”

“Singer, musician, and writer. I play the guitar and perform here sometimes.”

“Wow, a real jack of all trades you are,” Eurydice smirked, snorting lightly. 

Orpheus laughed, “I guess you could say that. What brings you here?” 

“The heater in my apartment kicked the bucket,” Eurydice sighed. 

“Oooh, I’m sorry,” Orpheus said, more than a hint of concern lacing his voice.

Eurydice just waved him off, “it’s whatever. Just gotta call the landlord in the morning.”

Orpheus gave her a small grin, the ends of his mouth curling up the slightest bit, “least you’re out of the cold now, right?”

Eurydice gave a nod, returning the grin, “yeah, you’re right.”

 Orpheus poured the finished drink into a polished glass and gently handed it over to the young woman, “your drink.”

That’s when Eurydice broke the second most important rule: no touching. 

She carelessly reached out to grab the glass and before she knew it placed her hand over Orpheus’. “I’m sorry-” Orpheus began until a sharp, pain-filled groan forced him to let go of the glass, causing Eurydice to nearly drop it on the counter. Orpheus stared down at where the pain was coming from: his forearm. With a shaky hand, he slowly peeled his shirt sleeve back and glanced downwards. He gasped, his number, once a dull gray was now a searing blistering red. The Countdown had started.

Eurydice set the drink down and turned back to the young man. “Hey, what gives? Are you-” she gazed down at what he was staring at. No, no, no, oh gods, please no! Eurydice began to back away but before she could step too far Orpheus reached out and grabbed her hand.

“Wait!”

Eurydice froze. A quick excruciating sting began to radiant from her arm, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. Tears sprung into eyes, salty and involuntary. This couldn’t be happening, not now. She had so much to do, so much planned. She had been so careful for all these years, and it was all for nothing. 

“Come home with me!” 

Eurydice whipped from head up and glared at the boy, eyes ablaze. Who the hell was this guy? First, he ruins her life and now he’s trying to lure her back to his place just to get a quick fuck? Screw him. She felt scalding hot, a pool of poisonous venom boil in the pit of her stomach. “Who are you?” she lowly growled. 

“The man who’s gonna marry you!” he answered earnestly with desperate eyes. “I’m Orpheus.”

Orpheus. Orpheus, that was his name. Orpheus, the name of the damned man who ruined her life forever. “I hate you,” she whispered ghostly quiet, head tilted to the floor. She watched as tiny droplets of hot tears fell to the dirty floor.

Orpheus frowned, a chill ran up his spine. He was stunned by his soulmate’s reaction, “what?”

Eurydice ripped her hand away and held it close to her chest as if just touching Orpheus brought her all the discomfort in the world. “I hate you!” she screamed through teary eyes and ran to and out the bar door, leaving a confused and heartbroken Orpheus behind.

Eurydice tore out the bar, down the street, past her apartment complex, further and further into the dark envelope of the night. She just ran, and ran, and ran, and ran. Her knees buckled and her chest was on fire, each intake of frigid air burning her lungs but she kept running. She ran until she reached the edge of town, right in front of the public park. She fell to her knees and sobbed. She sobbed for the future she’d never have, for the dreams she’d never accomplish. She sobbed for herself and Orpheus, the poor bartender who had done knowing wrong and now was cursed with her shit luck. She sobbed for her fate and her limited days left. She sobbed and sobbed and never once looked at her number, couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not that she needed to, she had it memorized: 

    194.

    One hundred and ninety-four days. 

She’d be dead in just over six months.

She ducked her head into her knees and mournfully sobbed as the rays of moonlight gleamed up above, bathing her in there light. She couldn’t escape her fate, no matter how hard she tried. 

[justashadetalkative]

Personality Quizzes: Linast

 @blind--magic has tagged me in quite a few different activities over the past few months! I’ve decided to post them by character.

.

To whom does your heart belong?

Your heart belongs to the stars.

you are lost in thought. you dwell on the workings of the world, you observe your feelings with an air of silence. you are contemplative in nature, and find yourself pausing before taking action. you have the gift to recognize the world for the beauty it holds in the quiet moments. it's okay to take your time doing things, your soul has been here from the beginning and will remain until the end. you have all the time in the world.

.

Where does your power lie?

The hands.

you can almost physically hold your power. creation comes easily to you, but so does destruction. your strength is in your physical interaction with the world. everything is so tactile. you push and you pull and you strike and you caress and you pray and you hold, hold, hold.

.

* write a letter to your inner child & i’ll tell you what flower you’ve blossomed into.

A lotus flower, glimmering a dark pond.

“seeing the mud around a lotus is pessimism, seeing a lotus in the mud is optimism.” ― amit kalantri, wealth of words — you're writing to your inner child because you want to show gratitude, paying homage to the ugly, murky waters that you've grown up in. perhaps you've experienced some of the rough conditions throughout your life at home or even in your own community/heritage overall. but despite this, you've learned how to rise above all of the adversity, as you've anchored your roots into the mud, just so that you could stay afloat and swift beautifully throughout life. remember, the muddy water never touches the inside of the lotus flower, as the layers of petals protects the purity from within.

.

What season are you?

spring

you're so lovely !! you are the sort of person to brighten up a room when you walk inside, you aren't the most outgoing but everyone who has met you has felt touched by you in some way. you're slightly unaware of actually how much of an impact you have. did you know ? people think of flowers when they see you. you view life as a process and everywhere you go, you water people :)))

.

Various highlighting activities:

Lesser deity from Greek mythology: Iris / Nemesis

Birds character study: Sparrow

(Full highlighting activities below the cut!)

---

your OC as a lesser deity from Greek mythology

bold what applies - italicize sometimes -strike out never. tag some friends to play along! && repost don’t reblog!

EROS:  • scornful jealousy • pink • presents a certain decorum • heavy air in a nightclub • has a tattoo they regret • sex & love therapist for their friends • juvenescent • uses enchantments • aloof • wears rose-coloured glasses • velvet, latex, & lingerie • milk baths with champagne bubbles • impetuous in love • intense eye contact is a sport • kinky • soft lips • wears stacked rings • sets fashion trends • graceful movements • marble floors • heavy perfume or cologne • deeply emotional • born glamorous •  [ 5 / 23 ] [ -2 / 23 ]  = 3

HECATE:  • prefers canine companions • wears symbolic jewelry • can see spirits • melting wax • uses hexes • feels most comfortable at night • smell of cinnamon • moonlight • red wine • understands poisons & herbs • collects bones or feathers • partakes in rituals • black • fog at night • is aware of their shadow self • embraces the unknown  • enjoys collecting secrets • approves of necromancy • meditates • has prophetic dreams • lace • knowing too many secrets • fishnet stockings  • [ 7 / 23 ] [ -1 / 23 ] = 6

PAN:  • enjoys poetry & prose • wool • smell of decaying leaves in autumn • prefers to be barefoot • tends to overindulge  • easily excitable • thriving in social circles • loves being around campfire  • antlers • dirt paths • the sound of wind chimes • penchant for sticky fingers • pine trees • stamina for days • falls in lust • vagabond • physically stronger than given credit for • foxglove • welcomes luxury • non-confrontational • charming words • talking to animals • nature for jewelry • [ 8 / 23 ] [ -2 / 23 ] = 6

NEMESIS:  • angry • protective of their values • balance & harmony • looks like an angel but isn’t • more perceptive than people realize • snow capped mountains • grey • wears leather • silver jewelry • likes snakes • can’t stand ignorance • believes in retribution • analytical of own emotions • well read • marble columns • has very rigid morals • bruised knuckles • humorous under the sarcasm • clean workspace • everything in moderation • cold morning air • resting glare face • fluent in curse words • [ 9 / 23 ] = 9

HYPNOS:  • very calm demeanor • easily overwhelmed • relaxing is their vice • transactional friendships • has a soft voice • head in the clouds • carries drugs with them • has a sibling they’re close with • drawn to winged animals • lavender • has plush furniture/blankets  • starry eyed • horrible money management  • gives amazing hugs • dreaming big as a full time job • wears comfy or loose clothes • existential questions • not good at memory based skills • fairy lights • can’t sleep somewhere unfamiliar • crystalline chandeliers • dislikes bright sun • fluttering eyelashes  • [ 10 / 23 ] [ -3 / 23] = 7

IRIS:  • life’s a technicolor spectrum • has a lot to say • beaming smiles • always has candy with them • flirting by accident • walking to the beat of their own drum • gossamer curtains • has a surprising amount of connections • blushes very easily • confident laughter • uses a staff • fresh fruit slices • decorated handwritten letters • a social chameleon • blood made of honey • treating people with kindness • sentimental heart  • vases full of wildflowers • feels fulfilled when helping others • has a healing aura • always travelling • stained glass windows • just trying to be a good person • [ 10 / 23 ] [ -1 / 23 ] = 9

---

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘  :  𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃𝐒.

SPARROW.  innocence.   big dreamer.  waking up too early.  walking home.   being afraid of meeting new people.   slim hands.   always cold.   reading a book under a tree.   the smell of the forest.  missing your home.

EAGLE. independent. caring too much for others.   sharp looks.   walking through the city late at night.   the tallest and most spectacular building.  iron.   being single and okay in a world that tells you that being single is bad.

SWIFT.   falling in love easily and heavily.   traveler.  the infinity of the bluest sky.  storms. broken. smiles. forgetting people who used to be your beloved ones. feeling out of place. mistrusting people.   a fleeting romance.

CROW.   feeling as if you have seen so much and as if you know a lot.  prejudging.   tight hugs that leave you breathless.   a grey sky.   serenity. intelligence. being left behind. chains.  smoke. the pride of someone wise.

DOVE.   petals. jealousy. being tired of living with the same old faces. whispered secrets.   marble.  sundresses.   white clothes.   the first sunset of winter.   pride in who you are.   learning to get over someone.

SEAGULL.   family. golden light.  the sea murmuring in your ear. summer afternoons.   caramel ice cream.   collecting seashells and other things and calling them treasures.   living breezy and carefree.  swimming in the sunlight.

CANARY.   artistic.   getting excited easily. dancing and singing while you are alone.   looking at your friends having fun. no phone.   being afraid of judgment.   spring. a meaningful gift.   the first ray of sunlight.

[dustofinsanity]

aesthetic tag ✨

rules: bold the aesthetics you relate to and add twenty of your own aesthetic qualities for others to bold

tagged by: The one and only!! The wonderful!! The amazing!! The talented and  incomparable PAPA!! Also known as @defgyus 💜

tagging: no one but, if you wanna do it, just say I tagged you.

soft

baby pink | iridescent | glitter is always a good option | no bra | minimalistic tattoos | cherry patterns | sweet scented perfumes | wearing generous amounts of blush | doodling hearts | getting excited to pet an animal | fun nails | rewatching old barbie movies | hair sticking to glossed lips | heart shaped sunglasses | taking pictures of the sunset or sunrise | stuffed animals | protecting nature | stickers everywhere | teen movies | the light rain that falls from a clear sky at the beginning of the night

dark academia

neutral tones | masculine outfits | studying languages | worn down copy of books | grey skies | turtleneck sweaters | loose fitting pants | hair tied with a silk ribbon | trying to remember a cool difficult word you read somewhere to use in a convo | thick belts | minimal makeup | windows fogged by rain | vintage jewelry | blouses with cuffed sleeves | reading a murder mystery and trying to solve it | oxford style shoes | sweater vests | subtitled old movies in a language you don’t speak | leaves crackling as you walk | annotating books to express your emotions about the story

edgy

closet full of dark clothes | fishnet tights | makeup sweating off | neon signs | searching for unknown songs | chokers | band tees | doodling on old converses | finding smoking aesthetically pleasing but not doing it | weird humor | accidentally very dramatic | dim lights | layered outfits | chain belts | chipped nail polish | messy hair | low quality pics | piercings | combat boots | scribbling on desks

seventies

colorful wardrobe | doodling flowers | wearing short shorts | using a bikini top or bra as a normal top | listening to ABBA | flowers in your hair | diy-ing everything | jamming to songs alone in your room | drunkenly telling your friends you love them | patterned bandanas | mid heeled shoes | messy braids | flared sleeves | walking barefoot on grass or sand | bold sunglasses | the good kind of tired you get after doing something you enjoy for hours | feeding stray animals | fun patterned socks | room decorated with succulents and other plants | likes to go roller skating or skateboarding

preppy casual

collared clothes | drinking juice out of a champagne glass | getting excited to see the met gala looks | thick headbands | small pastel cardigans | making your friends take your ootd pics | plaid mini skirts | tweed two pieces | watching reality tv to pass time | frilly tops | watching old hollywood movies | academically driven | long manicured nails | new year’s eve fireworks | colorful tights | layered golden jewelry | yearns for luxury brand items | decorating your room with fairy-lights | cursive and neat handwriting | lace details

cinanamon - steph

gold jewelry | slowdancing in the kitchen with a lover | sun on skin | red-tinted lip balm | lazy mornings | getting lost in foreign cities | scent of bakeries | high-waisted jeans | kissing someone’s neck | writing reminders on your wrist | sleeping in braids to have waves in the morning | growing an herb garden | gentle touches | sketches tucked between pages | flushed cheeks | tandem bikes, floating in a pool | vintage gold hand-mirror | deer grazing | softly singing while doing chores

jaesmintea - dia

oversized everything | painted nails | fairy lights | dozing off in the middle of class | tying hair up into a ponytail | round glasses | laughing so hard you can’t breathe | late night study sessions | tender hand holding | impromptu photoshoots | drowning in moondust | bathing in the light of the sunset | strawberry flavored lollipops | polaroid pictures | eagerly tugging someone down the street | handwritten love letters | smell of coffee | living with reckless abandon | crinkled pages of a journal | replaying the same part in a song over and over

naptimetea - helena

everything black | rewearing your favorite outfit | drawing late into the night | rewatching favorite shows | the bread isle | minty lip balm | falling asleep anywhere and everywhere | making green tea | useless questions when it’s 2 am | forehead kisses | sleeping in till the afternoon | love of pink | staying up to watch the sunrise | dancing in the bathroom | messy handwriting | pile of sketchbooks | talking for hours about interest | old sentimental stuff animals | hanging out on the bed and doing nothing | thick fluffy blankets

jeonginks

the thrill of leaning your body way over a balcony’s edge | the suffocating feeling when the strong wind blows down your lungs | tip-toeing barefoot | hair ruffling and cheek pinching | hugging a body pillow at night | facing the sky with closed eyes | the whimsical silence when it’s past midnight and you’re the only person awake | when you can physically feel your eyes soften when you look at someone | dancing alone with only an oversized shirt | when your sweater falls over your thighs as you stand up | humming scary but memorable lullabies | vivid imagination | w-sitting with a mini skirt and thigh high socks | heated laptop on your lap | cereal at 3 am | gliding your fingers across your thighs | bittersweet melancholy | withdrawn and distant eyes | very tight belts | wanting love but not believing in it | not cruel but not kind

scxrlettwxtches

listening to a song and remembering the times you used to listen to it on repeat | imagining yourself living in any other life than the one you have now | crop tops and high waisted jeans | forgetting to smile but not actually being upset | nuzzling your face in the crook of their neck | back hugs when you’re stressed | turning in assignments 1 minute before they’re due | wanting a relationship but getting scared the moment you’re in one | pretending that you don’t care when inside you’re burning with doubts and fears | the sound of the evening waves as you lie on the sand | lying in your bed listening to your sad playlist | exhaustion but you can’t sleep | singing loudly when you’re the only one home | feeling safe and comfortable with that person in your life | knee high suede black boots with your black winter coat | comfort over appearance | writing essays at 2 am | creative peak from 1 am to 4 am | the one that always ends up walking in the back of a friend group

hyunsracha - sav!

split-dye hair | female rappers | staying up until 6am and sleeping until 1pm | taking notes on an ipad | middle school emo music | mini skirts | late night drives | rain on the ocean | flirting with people when you’re bored | doc martens | eating ramen in the pot | afraid of being looked at | fishnets | getting joy out of making people laugh | small tattoos | crying yourself to sleep | peppermint everything | desperate for freedom | chipped black nail polish

lveletters

well-worn converse | ginger ice cream | farmers’ markets | amaretto in coffee | the sound of pen on paper | empty mountain trails | black and white photographs | vintage bicycles | roads trips with no destination | overfilled bookcases | a shoebox full of ticket stubs | granny smith apples | orange gerbera daisies | cardigan sweaters | games that tell a story | red wine in a mason jar | succulent gardens | tattoos of birds | fresh-baked muffins | a favorite pair of jeans

dnceracha - sydni

black chelsea boots | chapped lips | browline glasses | losing yourself in video games | impressionist art | pink peonies | writing down anything you need to remember | the smell of gasoline | business goth style | dangly earrings | florals | ballet flats | cuffed jeans | liking the villain | a stack of journals | generous amounts of highlighter | knives | rain on a tin roof | heavy footsteps | small-town diners

bamshine - sae

chunky black boots | not realizing you’ve been writing for hours | soft dog fur under your hand | the loud gathering of friends after an exhausting dance class | bubble tea | casual touches between friends | beach trips | airports late at night or early in the morning | coming home from travel and finally being in your own bed | leaves crunching under your foot | shopping for groceries with christmas music on the radio | loud family gatherings over a pizza | succulents | goofy singing and dancing with friends | getting so into a book you do nothing else all day except read | cool summer evenings around a bonfire | apple cider | the scent of vanilla | selfies with friends | the sting of a new tattoo

jjinyounf - cres

ocean breezes | moonlight/sunlight through clouds | sweatpants and baggy tees | empty journals | stud earrings | messy bedroom | thought-provoking movies | apple cinnamon | hot, but not sticky weather | chill big dogs | mixing flavoured vodka with ice cream | playing songs at full blast in the shower | quiet corners | the sound of bacon while it cooks | loud thoughts but quiet words | staying in bed until the absolute last second | mid-calf boots in the winter, flip flops in the summer, sneakers every other time | mental breakdowns doing anything academic-related | madras shawls | the colour combo of red, black, gold, and white

flowerbeom - kat

polaroids | saying hello to the moon | buying more books that you can read | lo-fi playlists to fill the emptiness | baking bread of saturdays | playing the same song over and over until you learn the lyrics/vocal runs perfectly | milk tea | booping your cat’s nose with your nose | keeping a stash of that one perfect pen | being the quiet listener in conversation but always has a great story to tell | sneakers over everything | watching the sunrise through cracked open blinds | leather and patchouli candles | freshly cooked rice | finding the perfect word to describe something | the crunch and squeak of walking on freshly fallen snow | writing “hello” on foggy windows | strolling through ancient forests and feeling small | kissed on bare shoulders | falling asleep to the sound of rain

focusgyeom - leena

wishes at 11:11 | leather jackets | hoop earrings | making playlists for friends | seasonal candles | bath bombs | pink drinks | late night drives | crystals | ripped jeans | starry nights & full moons | writing out your emotions instead of talking about them | loves the thought of being in love, but too scared to fall in love | black clothes | staying up till 3am writing | lip gloss | fall & winter | vampires books & shows | keeping a journal on you at all times | gel pens | sunflowers

defgyus - val

feeling at home in museums | color coordinating everything | feeling the warmth of the sun on your face | owning lots of stationery | aesthetic pinterest boards | period drama | coffee and tea are always a good idea | big windows overlooking a big city | neutral tones and muted pink | keeping a journal with your favorite quotes | fashion magazines | disney films | movie scores and lofi playlists | daydreaming in public transport | learning languages | laughing out loud watching comedy sketches | drawing on procreate | chunky sweaters and jeans | neck kisses | loving hard

defnabeom - nauan

shapped sunglasses | silver jewelry | the laugh of the people you love | this particular voice you could hear for hours | veins | ripped clothes | grungy style | cats lover | collecting everything | organized mess | cigarettes and a glass of whiskey | the feeling of being afraid to bother | old cartoons | spikes | men perfumes | noisy pictures | bucket hats | a simple touch of color in a black outfit | wine red eyeshadows and matte lipstick | the loner who needs love

[dust2dust34]

If you want to drown in some Olicity feels I suggest listening to Ed Sheeran's song Perfect off his new album. That will do the trick.

Perfect - Olicity, S7 (Rated: Mature)

Summary: Set in Season 7. Seven times Oliver and Felicity dance. (Inspired by my “Seven times Oliver and Felicity fall asleep together” fic.)

(read on AO3)

A/N: This starts out pretty angsty as Oliver and Felicity work through their issues throughout Season 7, but it definitely gets fluffier. This is pure indulgence on my part as I get used to Arrow ending this year. I listened to "Perfect" by Ed Sheeran about 3498 times while writing this.

Part 1 is set during “Inmate 4587″ (7.1).Part 2 is set after “The Slabside Redemption” (7.7).Part 3 is set after “Unmasked” (7.8).Part 4 is set after “Elseworlds,” specifically Part 2 (7.9) (references this fic from S4).Part 5 is set after “Brothers & Sisters” (7.14).Part 6 is set after Season 7.Part 7 is set in the future.

*

I found a love for meDarling, just dive right in and follow my leadWell, I found a girl, beautiful and sweetOh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me

The nightmare always waited for him.

Oliver stared at the ceiling as the sharp, “Lights out!” rang through the large room. With a snap, every single light went out, bathing everything in pure darkness. He bit the tip of his tongue, his lids fluttering as his chest tightened like it did every night. There wasn’t any immediate ambient light, no exit signs close enough to rival the pitch black, no outside moonlight slipping through.

It was just him and the darkness.

There was no control in this tiny room, in his cell. There was nothing to attack, nothing to fight, nothing but shadows he couldn’t see, couldn’t touch, couldn’t anticipate. His muscles cramped from constant vigilance. His bones ached from old and new wounds he couldn’t escape no matter how low a profile he aimed for. Stress lined every single inch of him, just waiting, the taut line digging knives of anticipation into his shoulders.

Saliva flooded his mouth as he fought to control his breathing.

Minutes ticked by until his eyes adjusted, barely, the ceiling finally coming into focus. Some nights he wondered if he imagined the cracks that decorated the old concrete, or if he was actually seeing them. They always looked different in the morning.

No control here.

Felicity’s face surfaced in his mind.

Oliver instantly relaxed. His eyes fluttered shut of their own volition as he let go of the breath he’d been instinctively holding. His bones sunk into the thin mattress, the tension abating, if just for a second…

Home.

It was so momentary, so fleeting, but sometimes, for a few precious seconds, he wasn’t here. He was with his wife and they were standing in their kitchen in a rare break from the madness that was their lives.

How many moments had he let slip by? How many did he take for granted, thinking there’d always be more? Dozens. Hundreds. But that didn’t change that they did happen, every once in a while. And every so often, his mind gave him a reprieve… let him fall back into the past where there was nothing but peace.

Where nothing could hurt him.

Home.

If he listens hard enough, he’ll hear William in his room playing video games, even though Oliver’s pretty sure he’s still not done with his homework. Remnants of dinner linger in the air, his chili. Dirty dishes sit in the sink, dishes they’d both been working on. But they can wait. They’ll always wait. Hands wet with soap and water, Oliver laces his fingers through Felicity’s and tugs her into his arms. She laughs, that gorgeous, deep-throated amusement that comes from deep in her chest, the one that sets off butterflies in his stomach. He wraps his arm around her, getting her shirt wet at her waist, and she returns the favor by slipping her wet fingers under the collar of his shirt, getting soap all over his shoulder. He wrinkles his nose at her and she makes a face back, but they don’t let go. They never let go. No, they hold on tighter, swaying in the middle of the kitchen. They stare into each other’s eyes, falling into the delicate bubble of intimacy that winds around them. Contentment like he’s never known settles over him, warm and secure. Safe. There’s nothing here but him, and her, his family, everything he’s always needed. They slowly dance around the small area, wandering here and there, everywhere, perfectly happy to go wherever the other does. When they clear the counter, he dips her back, earning a delighted giggle. He smiles as he pulls her back up, closer this time, smoothing his hand up her back. He melts into her soft embrace, the dance slowing. When they reach the opposite end of the kitchen, he spins her out, his chest tightening with love when she throws her head back with a huge grin before he pulls her close again.

Love… happiness… joy…

Something snapped.

Oliver stiffened and before he could react, the kitchen disappeared. Bright, vicious forest from a world he never wanted to go back to instantly replaced it, surrounding him in a suffocating whoosh. Light blinded him and he tried to cringe away from it, but the weight in his arms distracted him.

So heavy.

“Felicity?”

He blinked his eyes open, trying to see her, to make sure she was okay.

A stream of blood slipped from the corner of her mouth. His heart stopped as she slouched against him, her eyes widening in pain. Tears filled them, breaking free, sliding into her hair as her lips moved, trying to speak. But nothing came out.

Horror choked her name on his lips as he yanked her up into his chest with a harried, “No, what’s wrong, what’s wrong, what…?”

The front of her shirt was soaked through and when he looked down, all he saw was red.

“No,” he gasped. She was too heavy all of a sudden. She was never heavy, though. Not like this. He tried to hold her, to pull her closer… but then she was gone. Oliver collapsed to the ground, landing with a thud that rocked his very bones when he realized she wasn’t with him anymore. Gone. “No!” Oliver snapped, his voice breaking. He rummaged through the leaves ont he ground with blood-stained hands, but she wasn’t there. She was gone. She’d just been there - he’d been holding her, she was there, he knew she’d been there. “Felicity!”

A scream shattered the air.

“Oliver! Help! Oliver!”

His head whipped towards the sound and he was on his feet before he could think.

“Oliver!”

“You can’t hide from me…”

The voice sent chills down Oliver’s spine and he screamed for her, told her to run…

A gunshot exploded.

Oliver’s eyes snapped open on a ragged gasp. He jerked up, hot coals of air scraping down his throat as he blinked, trying to see. Felicity wasn’t there, though. Neither was Diaz. He wasn’t on Lian Yu, he wasn’t at home. 

Slabside.

All he saw was darkness.

No forest, no blood, no kitchen…

No screams.

“Felicity,” he breathed, his voice cracking. His face crumpled and he let himself fall into the despair, burying his face in his hands. “Felicity…”

Somewhere in Hope Springs, Felicity Smoak paused where she’d been swaying by herself in her tiny kitchenette. Dried tear tracks covered her cheeks as she looked up, blinking, wondering if she was hearing things. A shiver danced down her spine and her eyes fluttered shut.

She’d heard him as clearly as if he was right here…

Dancing with her.

“Oliver?”

She bit her lip as more tears welled in her eyes, but he didn’t answer.

*

‘Cause we were just kids when we fell in loveNot knowing what it wasI will not give you up this timeBut darling, just kiss me slowYour heart is all I ownAnd in your eyes you’re holding mine

Felicity drummed her fingers on her thigh.

He’d been in the bathroom for a long time. Which was probably normal, especially considering how he’d looked walking out of Slabside earlier. Her throat closed at the memory, her chest caving in with shared pain. God, what he must have gone through. He hadn’t talked about it on the drive back to Starling. He hadn’t said anything, instead climbing into the backseat of Digg’s car. Even if he hadn’t been clinging to her, she would have climbed in with him in a heartbeat. He’d tried to stay upright, to keep his eyes open, but the shaking in his hands where they clasped hers, his quick, pained breaths, the silent lull of the car around them… He’d finally slipped closer to her, leaning over until his head rested on her shoulder. When she asked if he wanted to lay down, put his head in her lap, he’d paused, but when he shifted his grimace had told her everything she needed to know. The damage to his body was too much right now. Instead he’d just shaken his head and she’d whispered, “Okay,” before settling in, holding him as much as she could until they got home.

When they walked in, he’d looked so out of place she almost broke right there.

“I need to…” he’d managed.

She’d led him straight to the bathroom. She’d thought about lingering, wondering if he needed help, if she should help, but when he leaned in to turn the shower on, it’d suddenly felt too intimate. He didn’t ask her to stay and she didn’t volunteer. It felt like something he had to do on his own. So she left, changing into her leggings and a long-sleeved shirt. She’d snuck in with a change of clothes for him, leaving them on the counter, lingering long enough to make sure he was still standing in there. It’d been something to do, but that’d taken all of ten seconds and after pacing for a full, seemingly-hour-long minute, she finally sat on the edge of the bed, mind racing, waiting.

The door opened.

Felicity shot up to her feet. “Hi.”

Oliver tried to smile. “Hey.”

He wore the sweats and t-shirt she’d left him. The glare of the light behind him attempted to obscure the damage he’d sustained, but it wasn’t enough. He’d washed the blood and grime and smoke away, but all it’d done was reveal just how bad of a beating he’d taken. Her breath caught at the sight. Cuts littered his face, bruises already starting to yellow and darken. He’d trimmed his beard down, showing a still-bleeding cut on his jaw that nobody in their right mind would put a razor to right now. There was a huge gash at his temple and a cut on his nose that made her wonder if he’d broken it. He held himself so tenderly, like one wrong move and he’d break into a thousand pieces.

Felicity’s heart broke.

“Oliver,” she whispered, stepping closer. “Are… can…?”

His next attempt at a smile was almost better. “I’m okay.”

No. No, he wasn’t.

She pressed her lips into a thin line and slowly crossed the distance between them. He held his breath, watching her like she was a vision. That opened a huge, gaping crack in her chest, wondering if he knew she was seeing the same thing in her own way. He was home. He was finally home. Tears burned her eyes and she quickly blinked them away. That was for later. Right now she needed to take care of him. She needed to do something. Felicity lifted a shaking hand to his cheek, not touching him when she saw the bruise on his cheekbone.

A flutter of disappointment creased his brow.

With a breathy, “Oliver,” she cupped his cheek much like she had outside the prison.

His eyes slipped shut. His strength was crumbling, she could see it in the tremble that shook his shoulders, in how much he collapsed into her palm, leaning into her touch even though it made him hiss in pain.

Felicity shook her head. “We should have gone to the hospital.”

Oliver choked out a sound as he opened his eyes. “I’ve had worse.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes before she could stop herself - of course he’d say that. When the reality of what she was doing in the face of what he’d gone through hit her, she almost felt bad about it until she saw the very real smile gracing his lips. This one reached his eyes. Her Oliver. Felicity’s lips moved in a silent litany of, ‘Hi,’ as her own lips curled up, touching her shaky thumb to the corner of his mouth.

“Can I least… I need to put something on these,” she said quietly, pushing her hand up his face, staring at the open wounds. “These look really bad.”

“Okay.”

Felicity gently pushed him back into the bathroom and he moved wherever she directed him to. When they were closer to the light, she couldn’t hide the tears that filled her eyes or the tremble of her lips as she stared up at him. She felt like she was looking at all the wounds she’d been carrying inside. They echoed in her own skin, stinging and burning so hot that she couldn’t hide the broken cry that fell from her lips.

Oliver’s eyes filled along with hers and one hand grasped her waist, tugging her closer as the other caught her hand, threading their fingers together.

His touch was so gentle, so soft, so loving.

She tried to stem them, but the sobs bubbled up, filling her chest until she thought she was going to explode. He pulled her into his arms gingerly with a low, “C’mere, baby,” and she stepped into his embrace. Her sobs choked out even louder at the fact that she could do this. He was home. They were here together. She never thought it would happen, she realized, she’d prepared herself for the absolute worst. And she had done the absolute worst, hadn’t she? She’d been prepared to, she’d done things she never thought she would be capable of just to get to this moment.

Her mind flashed to the cold steel of a gun in her hand.

Terror at what she was, at who she’d become, it filled her and she burrowed into his chest.

Oliver wound himself around her, one arm banding across her back, his other hand cradling hers to his chest, holding her like he used to when they had the time to do it, almost like they were…

A wet laugh fell from her, her voice strained with emotion as she asked, “Are we dancing?”

Dancing might be a stretch, but they were definitely swaying. Trying to, at least, considering she was pretty sure he’d fractured his hip judging by the way he was walking. She should tell him to slow down, to take a break, but at the same time…

It was perfect.

She didn’t want to stop.

“I dreamed about this,” Oliver admitted, the words muffled where he pressed his face into her shoulder. “Every single night, I dreamed about dancing with you. When the… when the lights went out and… I went somewhere safe. It was always you.”

Felicity nodded, her face crumpling. She dug her face further into his shoulder. She breathed him in - his smell was foreign now, something musty and harsh, but somewhere in there was her Oliver.

They stayed like that, swaying back and forth, just holding each other. He wound both arms around her, pulling her flush against him, his hands wandering over her back, up and down, engulfing her.

Home.

She wasn’t sure when his arms slowly started to tighten around her. His fingers dug into her, his nails biting into her flesh. His entire body shook with the effort, but he didn’t stop, his grasp growing so tight it started to hurt.

“Oliver,” Felicity whispered. She felt him trying to stop, but he didn’t. Like he couldn’t. “What…?”

“He always found you,” he croaked, the words nearly inaudible. He was so much thinner than when he’d gone in, but he wasn’t weaker by any means. He was pure lean muscle now. His body rippled against her as he clung to her, hard. Too hard. She winced, whispering his name again. She didn’t know what to do. “He always found you and I couldn’t stop it.”

“Stop what?” she asked, afraid of the answer.

“He… he…” Oliver shifted to bury his face in the crook of her neck. Tears wet his face and her own fell in response. “It was always the same. The nightmares. He found you and I couldn’t stop him. He killed you, over and over and I couldn’t… stop him, I couldn’t… do anything. And then…  when they said he’d found you, when they… they told me that you were dead… I lost you, I lost William, and I… God, Felicity, I was… I couldn’t…”

“Shh, I’m here, I’m here,” Felicity promised, hugging him tighter herself. His hold on her bit into her bones, so much it hurt to breath, but she didn’t stop him. He choked on his own breath at her hold, but it was suddenly her who couldn’t let him go. They clung to each other. She pushed her hand up over his head, scraping her nails over his damp, closely-sheared hair, holding him as close as she could as he did the same. “I’m okay, Oliver, I’m okay. We’re okay. We’re safe.”

His cries took over and they stayed like that, holding each other, not moving for a long while.

*

Baby, I’m dancing in the darkWith you between my armsBarefoot on the grassListening to our favorite songWhen you said you looked a messI whispered underneath my breathBut you heard it,Darling, you look perfect tonight

The slight bump under the curtains gave her away.

Oliver stood in the living room, staring at her where she stood behind the heavy curtains. They were long enough to graze the floor, hiding her feet, and if he hadn’t known any better, he never would’ve guessed that’s where she was hiding.

Was that what she was doing?

“I just don’t know if what’s best for me right now, is the same thing as what’s best… for us.”

He didn’t move for a long beat, and neither did she.

To say they’d been walking on eggshells around each other was an understatement. The second those words had left her mouth, the edge of a precipice he didn’t even know he’d been standing on yawned open before him. One wrong move, and he’d stumble over. He’d lose her.

No.

Oliver shoved his hands into his pockets. He wanted to give her her space. Well, he knew he should want to, but the idea of her thinking anything that’s the best for her not being the best for them, it rattled him to his very core. It stole the air from his lungs, yanked out the foundation he’d come to rely on so much. He knew she’d been through hell. They both had. But things were different, now, she was right. Apologies only went so far. But she was wrong if she thought he was going to sit back and let her slip away from him because of it. She’d stuck by him through his worst moments. He’d visited the darkest parts of himself with her by his side, never giving up, never letting go.

How could he do anything less for her?

So what did he do?

Really, he didn’t know if there was anything he could do. It was too fresh, too raw.

But there was one thing he did know: he couldn’t let her go. He wouldn’t. They’d get through this. They had to.

Oliver was moving before he knew it, shuffling towards her. She didn’t budge an inch, and he whispered her name, not wanting to startle her. It wasn’t until after the earlier attack that he’d noticed the curtains had a bulletproof - and arrow-proof - mesh on the inside. How long had she had these? How could he have been so blind, he wondered? The security measures she’d gone through, the gun, the bulletproofing of the entire house…

She was terrified and doing everything in her power to not let it control her.

It wasn’t as simple as his being back now, was it? It never would be, not again. He’d left her to fend for herself, and as much as he carried that responsibility, he also knew as well as she did that they had both chosen this life. It was a world that required her to step up like this, no matter how much he wanted to protect her from it.

He just hated that she had to do it at all. But he was also so insanely proud of her. She was and always would be the strongest person he’d ever met. He didn’t care what she said. She could have run, but instead she’d stood up and fought back. And as much as that terrified him, he knew that was who she was. He’d always known that. It was part of why he’d fallen in love with her. He wished she could see that the woman he’d walked in on chewing a red pen was absolutely the same fierce woman standing before him now.

Words wouldn’t suffice, would they?

He had to show her. And that would take time.

Well, good thing he wasn’t planning on going anywhere, not ever again.

“Felicity.”

Nothing.

Oliver parted the curtains. The instant they moved, she jumped, spinning around with a startled gasp. He immediately froze, letting her see it was just him. Headphones hung from her ears and she tugged one of them out, giving him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

A half-dozen words filtered through his head, but nothing felt right. He didn’t know what to say, if there was anything he could say right now.

When the silence became too much, Oliver slowly joined her in the safe confines of the curtain and bulletproof glass. She didn’t stop him and he took that as a good sign, dropping a kiss to her shoulder. His heart hurt when she bit her lip and looked away from him.

The soft hint of music filtered up from the hanging headphone.

“May I?” he asked, nodding to it.

She paused, her mouth opening, and he stopped, wondering if she was going to tell him no. Instead she nodded, lifting it up for him. He took it gingerly and slid it into his ear.

It was the ending notes of a song he thought he recognized…

She clicked a button on the headphones to rewind it and the second the first words came out - “I found a love for me” - he knew what song she was listening to. It was the third song they’d danced to at their wedding reception. A smile pulled at his lips, but it faded away when he remembered what had happened earlier. Where before the song had always left him feeling hopeful, reminding him so much of their journey together, now it almost felt like…

Goodbye.

Emotion crowded his throat and Oliver swallowed hard.

Felicity chewed on the corner of her lip, staring at his chest, not meeting his eye.

Without a word, Oliver offered her his hand.

Her gaze dropped to it, emotion he wasn’t sure he wanted to read dancing over her features. But she didn’t say no. She slowly lifted her hand and placed it in his. He let out a slow breath and gently wound his hand around hers, slipping his other arm around her waist. She stepped into his arms with a naturalness that wrapped a tight fist around his heart. Her hand found his shoulder and he closed his eyes, pressing his face against the top of her head, breathing her in.

They barely moved save for the gentlest sway, following the gentle beat of the song. It was almost over and Oliver bit the tip of his tongue, wondering if she’d step away when it was…

But as the final chords played, it restarted, like she had it on loop.

And she didn’t let him go.

Oliver let out a shaky breath, kissing the crown of her head. Her tiny puffs of air hit his throat as she leaned in closer. Their feet brushed together, the song the only sound save for their quiet breaths as they danced. She twisted her hand where he held it, but not to get away. She slowly twined their fingers together and he turned his head to watch them, resting his cheek on her as he watched their palms come together.

They would be alright.

Because they had to be.

They had to be.

*

Well, I found a woman, stronger than anyone I knowShe shares my dreams, I hope that someday I’ll share her homeI found a love to carry more than just my secretsTo carry love, to carry children of our own

“Entering Queen Residence: Oliver Queen.”

Felicity’s eyes shot open. She sat up in the same breath, throwing the comforter off before vaulting from the bed. She untwisted her shirt around her torso, tugging her sleeves back down as she darted out of the bedroom. Everything was shut up tight, leaving nothing but the sliver of moonlight seeping through the blinds covering the balcony door.

It was more than enough for her to see him.

He was back.

Oliver paused where he’d been shrugging out of his jacket when he saw her.

“Felicity,” he breathed.

Fe-li-ci-ty.

Her heart skipped a beat. It’d been a long time since he’d tasted every syllable in her name. It shot her back into the past, back to their first few years working together. It’d taken her a while to connect that he’d always stretched her name out like that because for the longest time he’d thought that was all he’d get with her. When they finally got together, when they stayed together, through all the ups and downs, he only dragged her name out like that when he thought he was losing her…

Or when he was finding her again.

“You’re back,” she said, closing the distance between them. She didn’t just mean physically, and they both knew it. He nodded as he yanked his jacket off the rest of the way and swept her up into his arms, pulling her off her feet. She laughed, wrapping a leg around his as she held on, whispering, “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied. “Oh god, I missed this. I missed you.”

They hadn’t seen each other since he’d left ARGUS after their talk, after he told her she was the love of his life - “Love is too small a word” - and a dozen questions ran through her mind. He’d called her to tell her everything was okay, that he’d be heading back soon, and he’d explain everything. She wanted to know all of it, especially when he let it slip that he’d met Batwoman, but for now…

Oh for now, she just wanted this.

She felt it in his touch, in how held her, how he breathed her in. This was her Oliver. She never knew how aware of him she’d been until it was gone. When she’d walked into that room, she knew something had been off, more than it already was. It wasn’t even the way he’d held himself. No, it was how he looked at her, how he stopped moving in response to her words, how he said her name like it was nothing.

It wasn’t until his speech, when she looked into Barry’s eyes and saw her Oliver shining back at her, that it’d hit her what losing him would be like. His words had only solidified it. Things changed, they had both changed, but what would never change was how they felt about each other.

Not ever.

Oliver set her down, brushing his hands up her arms to cradle her cheeks. “Felicity…”

“I know,” she said, grasping his wrists. She slid her hands up to cover his. “I know. There’s so much I want to say, so much we need to talk about, but… I just… I need… You. I just need you, Oliver, I need… you. Here. With me.”

Even in the shadows filling the room, she saw the way his features softened.

For the first time since he’d gotten out of Slabside, she felt like things were going to be okay.

“Dance with me?” she asked, slipping her fingers through his where he still held her face.

The most beautiful grin pulled at his lips as he whispered, “Always.”

Felicity had no idea when this had become a touchstone for them, but it had. An important one. It was a barometer - a way to connect them when they couldn’t find the words, as much as a way to ground them in the reality of their love for each other. Maybe it was the months of separation, of being apart after all of their happiness had been stripped away in the space of a couple seconds, but whatever it was, it was important.

To both of them judging by the way he looked at her.

He was taller in his boots compared to her bare feet, but that didn’t stop them. He dropped a hand to wrap around her waist as she gently laced her fingers between his fingers, looking up up at him.

Without warning, Oliver leaned down and hauled her up off her feet again, cradling her close as he set her down on top of his feet. She let out a startled laugh, curling her toes over the top of his boots and holding on as he slowly moved them around the room. It reminded her of when she’d been paralyzed, that night when she told him she couldn’t stop thinking about their first dance at their wedding. Instead of placating her, he’d gotten right out of bed and showed her that nothing was going to stop them, not ever.

The sentiment echoed and she smiled up at him.

“What?” he whispered as he danced them around.

“You’re the love of my life, too,” she told him. He stilled, his fingers grasping her closer. “You’re right. We’ve both changed and we can’t go back. We can never go back and we shouldn’t because we’ve grown and… adapted. But that… you being the love of my life? That will never change.”

“Yeah?”

“Ever,” she confirmed.

He stared at her for a beat. Her heart thundered in her chest, or maybe that was his, she thought as he slid his hand up her back, pulling her more flush against him. She took a slow, deep breath, pressing her breasts into his chest. Her shirt was thin enough she knew he felt her hardening nipples through his Henley. His eyes narrowed, his pupils widening in a way that made her stomach swoop as his breath skated over her lips.

Felicity pushed up onto her toes and pressed her lips to his.

A groan echoed from deep in his chest, low and guttural. Just for her. She gasped against his lips and he opened for her, just enough to get a taste.

The dam broke.

Oliver released her hand and dipped down, grabbing her ass in thick handfuls. He hauled her up into his arms. Felicity wound her legs around his waist, grabbing his shoulders for leverage as she arched her body into his on a moan. Their lips never parted as Oliver stumbled over to the couch. He bumped into something, what felt like a lamp brushing her hip, but it didn’t stop them. Oliver leaned over in a graceless heap, plopping her down on the cushions before pulling away just enough to slip his fingers in the band of her pajama bottoms. He tugged them down along with her panties. She helped as best she could, lifting her hips before sitting up and pulling at the bottom of his shirt, yanking it up. They were a flurry of movement, hands bumping into each other, skin sticking to the couch, breathless chuckles when they both went for the buttons on his pants. When they were undone, Felicity shoved the material down his hips, freeing his hardness. She fell back, spreading her legs for him. He followed without hesitation, blanketing her body with his. His growing erection slid against her sex, eliciting a needy whine as she sunk back into the cushions. His mouth slanted over hers, arms bracing against the couch, pulling back to angle his hips just right. Without preamble, Oliver slid home. It was hard and fast, deep and all-encompassing. He filled her completely. Felicity broke away from his lips with a gasp, grabbing his waist with one hand, her other sliding up his bare back, skating over his scars. They watched each other as he pulled out and thrust back in, again and again, her legs coming up to cradle him even closer between her thighs.

Home.

They were home.

*

We are still kids but we’re so in loveFighting against all oddsI know we’ll be alright this timeDarling, just hold my handBe my girl, I’ll be your manI see my future in your eyes

He woke to an empty bed.

Oliver didn’t have to open his eyes to know he was alone, but he still swung his arm out to her side of the bed. The sheets were cool to the touch and he cracked an eye open, frowning when he touched her still-dented pillow.

It was damp with sweat.

He propped himself up on his elbow, glancing around the room. She wasn’t there. Sitting up with a low groan, Oliver tossed the comforter off and grabbed his discarded sweats off the floor to cover his nakedness. Scrubbing his face, he got up to seek out his wife.

His pregnant wife.

Warmth flooded him at the thought, only to be quickly doused when he realized she must have had another nightmare. She’d tried to hide them from him, to play them off, but he saw right through it. He just hadn’t pushed. Maybe he should have. She wasn’t going to face this alone, not ever.

“Felicity?” he called.

The second he entered the living room, he knew exactly where she was. She’d pulled the curtains open, leaving the space highlighted in the dull moonlight that was managing to push through the cloudy, midnight sky. It perfectly framed her where she stood on the balcony, leaning on the railing wearing a pair of leggings and one of his sweaters that went well-past her thighs.

Eyes never leaving her, Oliver grabbed the green blanket they always kept flung over the back of the couch and draped it over his shoulders as he joined her outside. He was glad for it when the chilled air nipped at his bare skin, making him pull it in even tighter around him. Felicity stood up taller at his presence, smiling quietly. But her eyes never strayed from whatever held her attention in the distance.

“Hey,” he said softly, sidling up behind her. He opened his arms to wrap around her waist, pulling her back into his chest and winding the blanket around her too. There was a lingering chill on her from being outside too long and he cuddled her close.

“Hey,” she replied, leaning back into him. She snuggled into his warmth with a happy hum. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” he answered. Which bothered him. Something she picked up in his tone judging by the way she shifted her shoulders. “More nightmares?”

“You knew?”

“As someone who is very well-versed in the realities of nightmares, yes,” Oliver said, curling around her to rest his chin on her shoulder. “I’ve noticed for a while now. Talk to me.”

She was quiet for a long moment, but he waited with her, not pushing. If she wanted to talk now, she would. If she wanted to wait, he’d wait until she was ready. She’d done the same for him countless times.

“They’re about the baby,” Felicity admitted in a small voice. Oliver went very still, his heart lodging itself in his throat. Without even thinking about it, he moved so his hands cradled her stomach. “They were about Diaz for a while, chasing me, and all I heard was our baby screaming for me, but I couldn’t find her, not in time. And he… he’d find me first and then I was just… gone. Before I even got to know her.”

Oliver closed his eyes, wishing there was a way to soak up her pain. “Felicity…”

“I don’t want to miss anything with our baby, Oliver,” she said. “I accepted our life was dangerous a long time ago, but now it’s different. It was with William, and I think that’s part of it, you know? Sending him away. It was the right choice. It was what he wanted. But I don’t… I don’t think I could do that again. And I guess I wonder if I can…” Felicity bowed her head, her hands covering his over her stomach under the blanket. “If I can protect her.”

“We will,” Oliver said, hugging her closer. There was so much he could say, so much he probably should say, but all of it rang false. “Nothing is more important than our family. There’s nothing we won’t do for our family, and I know that in my bones. I know we can and will do anything for our children. And that… I think that has to be enough.”

“See…” Felicity said. “On a logical, sane level, I know that. But… when I close my eyes…”

“I know,” he whispered, turning his head to press his face against the side of her neck. His lips ticked up when she swayed against him and he instinctively followed her lead, following her movements. “You know what else I know?”

“Hmm?”

“That no matter what, we will love her, with everything we are. We’ve got this, I know that as surely as I know I love you with everything in me. We found ourselves in each other, remember? As long as we have that, we’re good.”

Felicity smiled, turning her face into his. She nuzzled his cheek. “Her, huh?”

“You kept saying her.”

“I did?”

“You did.”

“Oh.”

Oliver held his wife, swaying with her, dancing under the moonlight. “It feels right.”

Felicity smiled, melting against him. “It does. Our baby girl.”

“Our baby girl,” he echoed, his heart swelling with so much love it took his breath away.

*

Baby, I’m dancing in the darkWith you between my armsBarefoot on the grassListening to our favorite songWhen I saw you in that dressLooking so beautifulI don’t deserve thisDarling, you look perfect tonight

It started out small, like always, gurgles more than anything.

Felicity woke the second the first noise crackled through the baby monitor, but she didn’t move for a second, hoping that Mia was just waking up and would magically put herself back to sleep. When nothing happened, she thought maybe she was just that lucky - Oliver had gotten up last time, and she’d promised him she would take her turn this time. Maybe Mia was on her side tonight…

A full-blown cry erupted in a staticked mess.

Felicity crinkled up her face on a whimper.

Oliver shifted behind her, his arm squeezing her waist.

“I got her,” he grumbled, sounding more than half-asleep. He sat up as much as he could with Felicity’s near-dead weight laying half on top of him.

“No,” Felicity whispered, not exactly helping, even if the words were coming out. “It’s my turn.”

Oliver huffed, his lips curled in a smile when he dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’m getting up,” she argued as he rolled out of bed, grabbing his sweatshirt off the foot of the bed. She tried to open her eyes, barely catching the outline of his bare chest disappearing from view. Felicity slapped his side of the bed with a heavy arm, but even that was too much damn energy as she really, really tried to make her point. “I am. Any… second…”

“Shh,” Oliver whispered, leaning over to press a lazy kiss to her forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

He didn’t say anything else as he left the room, heading for Mia’s crib.

Felicity did think about getting up. She thought hard about it. She inched closer to the edge of the bed, her fingers curling over the end of the mattress. But then her eyes were closing and before she knew it, unconsciousness had her. It wasn’t exactly easy, damn it, working her ass off during the day to get her company up and running, and then coming home to spend time with her loves. And that didn’t include the nights Team Arrow needed the OG Green Arrow out on the streets with them, which happened way more often than it should, in her estimation. Mostly because it took away from moments with her stay-at-home husband and their beautiful daughter, and their son when he visited from his grandparents.

And when they finally got Mia down, when it was just her and Oliver, she told herself she was awake enough to stay up and get their them time in.

But the second her head hit the pillow, she was out.

Like now.

Felicity wasn’t sure how long she slept when she opened her eyes again. The shadows in the room hadn’t moved much, and when she lifted her head to squint at the alarm clock, it read nearly three in the morning. She was still sprawled across Oliver’s side of the bed, and he was nowhere to be found.

But there was… music?

It took her a second to recognize the sound filtering gently from the living room, and an even longer second to realize what song he was playing.

Felicity fell back in bed and shook her head.

This man.

Her perfect, perfect man.

Felicity ambled out of bed, snatching up her glasses before grabbing her robe where it hung over the closet door. She shrugged it on as she moved to seek out her family.

She found them in the living room.

Oliver swayed gently in front of the large picture windows overlooking Starling. It was snowing outside, the absolute picture of serenity and peace and warmth, but he didn’t have eyes for his city.

No, he only had eyes for the quiet bundle cradled against his chest.

Felicity slowly made her way over to them.

Oliver looked up with a smile, turning to open his other arm to her. She slid underneath his arm, sighing when he dropped a kiss to the top of her head before joining her in watching their daughter sleep.

Mia was out like a light, perfectly content, happy as her parents danced with her in the dark.

*

Baby, I’m dancing in the darkWith you between my armsBarefoot on the grassListening to our favorite songI have faith in what I seeNow I know I have met an angel in personAnd she looks perfectI don’t deserve thisYou look perfect tonight

“This is nice.”

Oliver smiled as he spun her out again, slowly, carefully, letting her control the speed. He watched her as she let her head fall back, just enough so she didn’t lose her balance, her free hand flying out slightly, fingers spread. Her wedding ring caught caught flickers of light. Fall loomed over them, along with their second baby that, according to her, was currently making her the size of the entire planet. He didn’t agree. She was stunning. She glowed, even more than her first pregnancy.

Happiness looked damn good on her.

Despite the season change coming on, thick humidity settled in the air. It was nicer in Ivy Town where they’d snuck off for one last mini-vacation together before the baby made itself known. Nicer than Starling, by a long shot. He loved how open their backyard was here. It more than made up for the lack of outdoor space in the loft they kept in downtown Starling City.

“Dancing?” Oliver guessed, gently tugging her back into his arms. Her stomach was nearly impossible to get around, but they made due. Like always.

“Oh yeah,” Felicity replied. “That, too. But I was talking about the grass on my toes.”

Oliver laughed, a deep throaty sound. “It does feel nice.”

“It’s so cool,” she said. He felt her wiggling her toes because they brushed against his own bare feet, making his lips quirk. “The rain helps.”

“I love it here,” Oliver whispered. She nodded in agreement. “Having grass in the backyard, being able to look up and actually see the stars. Being able to dance with my very pregnant wife underneath them.”

She smiled. “Pretty soon you’ll have another dance partner.”

“Rather, William will.”

As if on cue, their son caught the corner of their eye. They both turned to see the teenager holding a five year old Mia in his arms, making her giggle as he faux-danced with her. In the background Lyla and Diggle danced under the same stars in front of a long table closer to the house holding the rest of their family. Donna was there, Rene and Dinah, Zoe and JJ, and Connor, Lyla and Digg’s adopted son. Thea and Roy had even appeared. Other friends, other neighbors, other family rounded it out, all of them flying in for one last hurrah before Oliver and Felicity’s next little one made itself known to the world.

Laughter echoed through the large backyard, silverware clinked, music played softly in the background.

“I’m glad we did this,” Felicity said, twisting to lean into Oliver’s side. He instantly wrapped his arm around her waist, taking as much weight as she wanted to lean on him as the watched their loved ones, both of them swaying to the gentle song coming from hidden speakers. “Home.”

Oliver kissed her temple.

Anywhere he was with her was home.

Smoak Technologies was running at full capacity now, and while it had settled firmly in the black and was gaining enough steam that they were planning on expanding, he knew she wanted to be as close to her business baby as she was with him and the kids. Ivy Town had been the perfect compromise for a home away from home - it was where they’d first started, and it was close enough to Gotham that when Felicity expanded to the East Coast, she could commute in and out of her new office.

Everything had come full circle, in its on way.

“Thank you,” Oliver said quietly.

Felicity looked up at him with a serene smile. “For what?”

“For making me the happiest man in the world.”

(And we conclude this with Bre’s usual denial: And nothing bad happened ever again, The End.)

*

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