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#Are you going to dishonor me and steal from my children if you bring in a new higher-ranked spouse? Kys

libidomechanica · 1 year

Text

And yet, Ill love and day-long black rock

A ballad sequence

Which I would not die, till checked, taught what they said he, these field, that light up, and shorn of their own Ellis Island, who turn

the sky. Well the day of him here! Its very man hath looked like a spirits. In all the rest: o my Electra! Alas

your Academe, o sister, my Belovëd, it is thy locks thrown; each the thirsty plants. Then the bolts of Feare doth

not know from wall to educate. Crooked grapples cast, which came around, the guilty of blood? Is not assail that not?

I shuffled like a bee, love me! Dewy fields are lovely. Psyche to accuse her with either fruit nor boughs there be light to witlesse there were less: some men’s heads cut off! To live,

and go, mount and many swear, the street in high degree, in this. Iron burst the found in their heels but find reply, twas not so; to have so eased that I would follows many a

wanton in the dead, the first good in your salary; was’t for thee. Draw me, we will get a richer far in hay. Though I am, I will make Thee strong, and say take it to the

street in earnest words came when we planted down and silence burying up inside thee, who could do was learning unto the charming, had never bore. The fading politics

of moss so fast! The Carian Artemisia strong infection know; but the walker upon you. She pointed in your wheel stands least of all the sand- And with instruction view.

The Lady Ida’s youth, and sae neat, or pierced moment after- beauty and thee, who cannot quench thy locks that the sandy down, and then hastily subscribed, we entertains of Solomon’s. Said Cyril: Pale one, sleeping, turning others;

arts of man, and shucks, refusing here in the cloud as silver iterance failing heart as I have said, a child with pleasant art thou,—finding and which she caught and beauty bright reap the depart; fixed as a seal upon thine hearing its

long since, not set your plan, and who can resist in my self, the very walls, and play hot cockles, all smile: perfectly- chisled cheeks are bold Lysimachus, oppressed, and his anger most it seemed,-than till the chimneys of the golden shield,

where I have no countryman, affianced, and glory seat me then, Psyche, but his want or peril, there or his country bring them. The highway ringed and eye. Anglers hidden, warm, etc. But, as no gift of fortune’s shining expects—

was their dishonor. Then he fell. Sleep, sleep, beauteous head is filled the care of Lady Ida: they were, and time break and leave her till the woman’s son shaking a famine where Venus gloue, ioue on his countrywomen! Three days that found

the sky, yet, I will share with the piping shepherdess, esteem me, and the bell for dinner, let us go! And care empty, after my despaire, and make us toys of night the metaphysics to this or that. When he so nobly

had released: the cause? He speaks up as tiny no-sex voice their hands; maintained prey, from the fishpools in Heshbon, by the gaps between the way. And panting and was wedded to the trembling voyce oft doth range, and float in crystal glasses in

celebrate life. Are you noticed, now, and strike on a sudden thought of courses, children were a match yet may spy the Father! Maybe it was stealing up thy prayers, and song and when the maggot born in the mind, Goethe’s dread of scarlet

cloak, to length, those worth into the stern, and I could ever hard years till some palace of silvery dusk, we thought itself to do art wise, wealth, in her works a different way in disgrace: nor can pursue, but I, vnbid, fetch euen my storm-

beaten face, and, when unto dying in his forehead. The started she, my wag, if the breaks: I dare not worthy of the hope that I hoped to watch the day when she choose; and drunk my wine disabled, unprepare for myselfe for so long

your gentle streams of leisure, sacred from ancient ties would have care: yet not his face, excelling all the corner when I’m sitting their pace to me. And frugally resolved the chanted joy and there bent with your love, deep as fire with the

days old. Cold earth, or where nought betwixt were angry when she goes a long fantastic tender grapes. Remember—a moment after, clung about command the marble. For the only law. Hammering sun; and contempt, and come back of sleeping

a hold on a dream, Love bade my Lady think that have different meaning, Iphigene once more coldly shine; and the chance to go to friends the rosy height, Powers above my father dimension I love you because he had never!

Down to happy into a shallop by, or under my heart doth use and brighter ladies leave her perfection times?

Used utterly, in that is misunderstand. The word, much lov’d friend! The halloo will turn the Dead, and your hand to those

that go about going to his own Phaëton. Herself, and takes the slave frae sun to sun, could I help it, did I see

and not sent a bride. Where there, as in a cloak, I will give you lovest to have no sorcerer’s malison on me,

no ghostly shadow of a bakery in the morn when, tired with studs of shame is lust in arms the bats and gives

o’er; and who can fight reversion of one another, as I was disrooted from me remove, and so its ink has

pale as these: not for us, and terrible fall: and turn his mind, the manners, and in his very miserable goods;

fixed to fly, and yet thou think that poesy has wreaths of things are as prompt in hell, that practice may murmured Florian

is not the pavilion here. Now the Moon. Which the gray lock a lifetime. Tears, idle tear; and ruins all; and till a

clamoured Flee the green and we will not long purple glens replying: blow, bugle, blow, set the tenderest plea by

some forty-three. Affirms your hands: there we would that it become as much as they were, slew both his endlesse night. No one

to peer her. The avenger, execrates his last of the nick, like the blood of womankind, and then I am

sick of our rights, while each doth she speaks her maiden, true and Ioues strange story. This typewriter likes you only like one

that nestling scythe, does complete earth’s true I have none. Invoke the dimpled cheek of a mother, tis her words, which public

good, and than complete: suppose you may yet be well. But, children’s voices, wild with one day you were leaning is dire.

But it’s not… it’s vapor done up like swallows’ call? A tickling flames with some glorious dreams. In which speaks a Memnon smitten, carried and the entrance, interpret God to all

thee! We scarce the winds arise, a conqueror; woman- post in her eyes, as bottom there; she cried. Breast wears the inner. A step of light of emblematic of a nameless fell

down dead. To sound of a stormy Cymon thus it is, the great wall of the affair: some little one, sleep; in thy lov’d friends and looks naught else, and the dwelt, though the habits of some

day of day, almost fear that day could it looks behind me, that goes all round, I trow, loue refineth, o birds, O beasts nor birds on the guard, drawn up in furrow-clouded eye, and

never seen, the thundered well, he was half-world. Unto the grave, I met beside her till I seek supply of the sages. Their spirits. Cupid is winter’s near. Toward that heart, and

her not be at all—I never comely: thy tender her heard her cry, o misery! Round that I, myself, so languid and shook; the less for admonition from the green: and

when first thy foolish fashionable too, to keep her safe; his toasted side, the edgèd steel by careless, care not preached? When you there at point to myself, wilt say, alas! It looks my pain;

and by your land, which country-farm the tree, by Sences priviledge, and bruise its sands: while. A fragrant sweet is that answered coldly shine because it’s been fitted in the first invents:

that’s fiddling slave-maker, who is neither came to break it. My passion that purposes that the deed: our task performed, the best conjurement of presence, Let me at an

alley’s end where a few last great winds shore? He trudged alone with them: we took the wounds for the spray. There are there green, she struck two, and teaches more bitter lover of all the loves:

for he had done he put her in the shades. Is to a titter like my need; desier still with careless step I onward secure, the sculptor has caught at once foil’d, is from woe to

wooing much delight and bran, bread crust crumbled. That which Amphions lyre did yeeld; more anxious for her pupil’s love speaks her mine across the line and little doll child, thou art fair, my

love is of my wretched her eyes, as ugly as an ear-shaped cone to the Town. Following tide sent out the chiefest among the charmed! The watch’d six or seven slow suns. A new-

born the pain, I thought, and when the pond of which fell: curst be thy decreed, the greenwood echoes flying sails and sware deuoutly then, twenty million perfect beauty was the rest for

years, his poor thorn! To Cipseus by his fruit would be the sea grows nice; reads verse this net? Some fresh and loves to save for, but scorn of their pride and a’ the touched above the twelfth fair within

thy love the lamp and lawless bargain drove, the party’s fires fade: exit seraphim and Satan’s men: I shut my eye like fire against the world, your arrow-wounded my

experience, and in three weeks shut with sweets with the night and buikit and the world. The streets, and leaning her thrones. Nor think I shall whelm the Pope is none that pierce inscription on

the pavement youth, and this. Felt an innocent warmth or a simple because your sails, and cast a liquid treble of that, ’ she answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying, dying.

I am the rolled for Psyche. For, don’t know ourselves and arms take me of it. One with a numerous in the Excise. Strikes each idle word spoke too much, you will come, she fled.

Begged for me. Two brother, tis that so, some crying: help! The little where a few last great deeds of spite, fool, said among the government elizabeth and stands the present You

knew not whether he knows, as I divine, made old offences of those soft white should be known: then happy me! ’ Florian asked, how great’s the grove her drooped her alone. Smiles and alum

and plight mean. Admire my father! Scarce had founded; the fishpools in Heshbon, by the tomb lay by her friends, whose luminous eyes, for thus I heard of such as are our foes,

Ormisda stood, so whipt me with one chain of myrrh, and unchanged, in the tale half the western wave, touch’d by the ambush of your mutter’d lie; the prize you go to thee. Out of your second-

sight of her long hands, and shorn of prison. A bird’s-eye- view of all I want to watch the clematis. Are you see her and the moonless night to him that beat her, answered, then

ye know the rest—turning in mine own bright it works are an orchard of passing: what it looks were at a board by touch, by the fort, a ship with pedestrian Muses, look at

these women. Look at you to take away? Poured a purple; the king have seen the cliff-brow, on the torrent dream for whom I would be able to add a stormless snake has bitten

me, they do so for the tide; the farm to be overawed by what I would never to the year. My mother’s house with unshut eye, thou should see! His father danger shared: but

still the dam ready in health—yours, not mistake, Centuries— of art and rest, on mother who all in vain would cause the will run after red. And I lose my fare; blanc-mange and a’!

The bed we love things? Of mute insensate thing resolved the stiff wind with body was forced back again with loves to save, and taught him in their sphere, if that blazed between galaxies,

I cannot tell; but mine own torn hair, the shadow of a babe you may retires, bordred wings throw kerchiefs at a loss what not sad? Silky hair, stiller world I would the skipping

of men; for sure ’twere na for my beloved. Since thou, all those soft white should love my body now a softer earth and frankincense, with his name, I grant in furrow-clouded pond’s

surface this, nay all the rare things I never heart, my sister. With myrrh, and on your hand in thy heart with the day of your smiles, for I commands, in High on a mountain bend?

To her; for her thick with a kernel in it. My beloved. Seas that I do not loathes the salt tides seaward from on high nor ever and glory live. Flood the last extremities

of man, the land that might mean. ’ There stood in your left espy; and stupidly admired, his tender grape gives o’er thy voice, and make up in part. Pensive he eyes, ears, a

measured things? If Orpheus voyce bring relief; you all I want’s the thunderbolts: what comes the tent: but that taketh end by love? Would rather perpetual light, till, wholly

unexpected, for those gold alone, and, where no foot can trace, acts what it well? To-morrow I brew my beer. As if by force to break a twofold truth the gardens, and jewels on; all

day let envy her. A curt wrong number caught him, and his sons: and though the glass box on an unswept streets, where’s no way. Not love me also in silver clears afterwards. There

keen Indignation sweet a flowers, the child willing brides, invaded with fascinations might sit beside the for those sand-hills, flung ball, flew kite, and no other, that were ever

dearer; robert Burns: she’s lectures and thus were the flagging sailors tried the shades, changes, surprise. The leaf where his way; him self a chaste embrace, a baby and a maiden

may be, but I shall she laughed; and also to be woo’d and danced at their church of flower, we’ll go, and woes. The Princess, O my love for you It makes the deep recesses of the

workman and his mate; as yet are all the fame you here? Much more than at first and love. A woman closeted with the girls. You, although better is past midnight, with the pictures,

looke on, losses now must take care to offend think I shall I my undefiled: for my heaven’s despite, and thinks he seemed to lose, he gains of the left, three years below! This

time he promise of all things are our formal father tied your Pasimond his scythe and blue and sting. How long such she calls her place. Melissa, knowing it, and my beloved.

Some tomato aspic, Helen, why are you thirty-two and a hope to all the grave for me; I turn off the like?

Poor: how blythely was I bide their native wood. Smiles and hour and those three weeks shut with proffered together, maid, while

I look back against my kisses on the sky, hell’s first touch, by scent, by taste. That in the boughs I gained that great convent.

And me none told: not less the view, gored mine were smallish female, moving on his the storm came on, and sphere to dance, through

the cover of all Time sparkle for ever, despised straight cut to the Evil Doer, thy Herrick dies, clanged on the

true speech, they despised straight cut to the rick flames, and proud titles boast, which now upon your wish to superstition all

awry: however this half-world. With rich in sentiment, will hear you call wisdom? What does his word? It’s pride; in my

pouch I had been nothing up the beds of shame is lust in action, lust is perjured, murder, to correspond with an

encounter and aye? Have they prate of the hour and propagates seen God, what matter where there whirlwind’s on the cold

tile bathroom—all because you ready, o mount and brought? Because you saw. A one, a rogue of canzonets and sweet and

know you at the sweeten so about the rest: low lies the suppers for that in no more from the brains to die. Blur, a

Film Fun laughing-stocks of Time, if bright reap the rope that Psyche’s less o’ a bride of every Muse tumble downward like

a wild girl keeping off bridge, by those three sat muffled like Carmel, and more, plainly living wind that goes a long dead!

I am the brine; where thy temples are the sleeps. It, give you a root. At day-break of day. As with thee, who bent they meant by their pasture- ground; where they are beset with thee. Do—

harry out, in siluer field is underhand, not learn whatever star is in the Song. And high, whatever thou much to prate, our speech planned, you just teach the rose and eke my heart’s

blood-dripping the other sound the sound of solemn though both repent, yet I bore the bay, now thee. They raised a tent of prison. Thy cheek and chose to be drunk as flies the one about

dream, for at a frown the power to ease me oft to leap the rolling eye, flying rain, there’s beautiful now, not even from the gold that would tend upon you. Pollutes

the touched behind you here? If I were you up inside my head and stooped to what is known before her feet dispersed at length, there presence, Let me die, and man’s cause; where a garden,

and their thousand matter where so serene a goodness greeted by a shuffled like a flock to redeem the bestrode my Grandsire, with your wish to superstition all awry:

however happen when the kindred in tears come— falling into her who first break of day. I would flow somewhat out of sight; that flag what it should be able to add a stormless

summer or Winter for aught I cannot prize? Space are lost; jove’s isle they call her voices should fail, shall never and gleam, where the pillars of smoke, perforce, from vale to vale;

and consider Now makes verse, who in despair under them then shoots amain: seas that was to break a twofold truth, hers by the thing as straw- fire flared as Pasimond a lawless

dearie; they try, short, the roots of Amminadib. And Science, will dim. The sea-beasts, looke in everything down the flocks or till I beg a To see and none is barren woman!

Both law and impulse. For all that which he could ill continue her repose. And by the holy well with delight! Fly

to her, ’ I answered not; till warming with the dreary mountain height; those worthy, or more’s ready! Fly to my heart,

my lassie, in grace sappho and others to Candy with just escapes, maud the shade, while we stood, has come sailing child;

she promised each other? This abundance lies, robert Burns: welcome, next my head and sung me moon-faced darling behind.

And yet I wept for indeed so? The brutal lust. Green, or when he fashioned marble. Stella, whence follows Paris bore

the furious light, like them all one anatomic. Worth, not vassal wretch to be first they like a hawk encumbered

on the remedy? I am a wall, the broken: we dismissal: back again. Of courses, children, call no more!

And here he stands least of all her kind. ’Er her locks are gilly gowans hang golden broods o’ertake me oft to leap the

death; jealousy is cruel fire, thought. Smoking i know it. Tell me, O thou wilt satisfie my body now a softer Adams

of deadly lurks thereof being disapproved, and stupid eyes, in times like can be wise; at moment to sleep. No

scream from the moon up with a hill did Lucy climb! The red- ribb’d ledges drip with me. Let there drops headlong from mine, as

who should be something maid in a clench of callous and hung with the drought me: I shall pass into the day when I forge

the gear that concerns you turned the matting: then she: What fear ye, brawlers? Why do the time of weak poison’d poison, turnspits

for the morning others feet still my grief is when spring’s once dry; but stands apartment full on Cymon sudden

troop they stood, nor durst be the nest’ she said: o friends he storms, and of lady fair the world was one, sir, who might at once

was caught, her velvet cheek a rose; the next day she hanged, in wise disgusting the grain than the heart of all and earn our

prize, a golden speare, care shining? And lantern, Child, thou should he have prevailed? Make sure to folk— remember him! On thee,

intend to joy the flies in the mountain in vain Religion meets the meadow grass, and still, to the grass fell down from

their fair lights and pearly white. I turn on the suppers for they tried me with fascinations in this husband fro, a

disease, a harder heart doth rehearsal of all her olive, and eat apples; and thinks I see my pictures the tumult

and touch is possible, but Fortune wheels grate dry! From her slaves were, merely to imply love striking thing settled

a gentle shade, while I stood the losers talking, but her, and so they like smoke. They are betters! Which did it slip away,

as if by fortune was, and to and fro, a disease, and his rival chance. With only Fame for three castles, torchlight,

the ruthless fancy comes, whose fires of the white-wall’d town and last night came cloath’d in state, was the world well know: margaret!

At the driving in turn, left foot in thee. The kind kissed Briar Rose but that motto drew. Did little babe was buried.

And every where! The other a miller does not brother’s house’s barbed antennae trawling for it! Sure I think and

back at her, come hither, come here? Me if it ended me; they come: if not, with the fun hard by touch, by scent, by taste.

” And so along the lave o’t! Where thou makest waste my soul I rather lives. The bad man chatter of the world, sad as the whole town knows what once the foes: for from the goddess

and by youth, and fill the complain, in earth and to gathered like a spread of kirtles when to all the lattice edges lay dense and Give. When like to look on the left, bowed to this

bough, Ye’re woo’d and many death; ’ To horse was lost a thing among us, debtors for ocean. If thou hast doves’ eyes. White though thou received there is a little man. Half turning from

the grave—wrapt in wreaths for you. Because you so too; and the vine flourish, whether I need his world’s no blot for nothing, think they grew like fondness, chaste concession, that be kind;

exciting by her I love more praised loud till checked and pure as a bed of softer Adams of a man, instead of jutting crag, and injured by it, staying put her in an apron?

Just before; for thee, ’ she said; and none of his, whase only flowers let us cull for a moment eternal, nor their naval store; and then alow; nor port they were his

public means which an alabaster fountain’s lady. There sinks with that so, some future; everywhere the will be Easter- time in their lives are better, war! I think upon, wondered

at the started us—i wed with glee across the great lovely shell, small, was clutch at the fair. Sound and tried, she likeness of you; I babbled forefinger of his heart, and

most most logical statement I am pitiful to Poverty—hospitable laws: both parties lose by turns, and his last one, you wouldst be happy morning. Thereupon,

in and clear, what cannot grow complete earth’s true food he eats, and hear behind a Judith, under a vile physician, blabbing the bit of chalk, and father danger than his office

might knock it to this poor pretty babes to be dandled, no, but like a young hands, now your unguarded, reliable face, and no sooner but despite, invade and botching,

patches, paint now as I please? Crack them forwards, in a court compact of the strings my tears the roof of thy nose is as they dismiss the land worth seeing; and they tried me with me.

’ You are thy love doth love, my undefiled: for my soul, by paying to think you of it, Florian is nothing

else to gild a stormless summer solstice down, O maid, you just for you The Dells tell me the hung, a Niobean daughter

Briar Rose was angry with me he makes the mound where, to confirm by thy presence, nay—he made the wisp that flickers

where you free from all the rest unpaid. Did you were my civil head, till all men grew them, the shadow, Time; but as these:

not there’s no one to close. But follow the Princess; liker to the hypnotist’s trance, each in heaven will be, are

but i just don’t remember, never reach’d the will hearts lie fallow in the love. The terms he three lives. Had never and

entertaine, oft turning round these shelves, closets, silks, innumerable rose, leaving breast wears the secular

emancipation turns the unaccustomed head like a blossomed branches, and no such as the river. From them, letting the

reward. Our music-maker now; loves all, at any rate, that I honours her ere the world— ah me! I said, betwixt

these fruits; camphire in the bonie lass o’ Ballochmyle. But kill and married the cared to menage loathsome life—O father

drunken king to brawl at Shushan under crescent moon the sky, that winter with edge-tools! Of frankincensed awhile

deferred his ungoverned zeal; ill suited with grim laughters of watchfulness are fond forget me, when from a

look, for her darlings of the valiant men are about with some greater, being man’s abhorrence for it I came up

from side to speak. What, the third! Perishable clay, but sought; and her lynx eye to fix and maybe the sun, and yet be

jealous, often climb. To find him not. What does not count fair prize contemned. To see her safe; his tongues to cheek open.

Pane of ice.—Ghosts of the brine; where, in a pye, which brought in the splendour slanted for why sae sweet is night astronomers

agree, the clouds o’ertake me unawares while gazing on the day belied the soil; and ne’er a ane to peer her.

If I were King of pictures, look at their turn the wall. You questioned nose, the secular emancipation, this hubbub

in the lock. And cut this time would say and his follow’d bait on you, bigger boy, the loyal warmth or a simple

think’st thou wreck his pen doth pleasant: also our bed is gone. Not resist: curst begin to speak, and O that thou didst breaks:

I dare all the substantial fuel, making man’s beck, but wisely kept the dead. Maud with her, easily gather tied your

vows, and those precious friend: you began to stir with beautiful still beneath so beauties every moments after them.

Star-sisters’ liberties. That I have look’d up the monstrous idols, care not so, my Tory, or groan, his vanquish’d foes.

And most fine gold, the first was silent. Like one that hole in my soul, which I thou to-morrow to each, that once. Thereupon

her icy breast, teeth, and my body now a soft palm— Not so fresh, there was a bird. She called the scrolls together

if i could resign, then second mother brought us, a tiger-cat in act to spring’s once large bounty fed; robert

Burns: she’s the queens and till, and curst be the nest, silver pendulums pulsing inside me, as we ourselves with a

daughter’s love; so to his hand by your precious Eyes a tear. To plunge in cataract seas that bare they Wise and Preaching

folk’s faces thereof of golden wing from the flood drew; yet I felt so warm and generous I let myself down? She

think’st by his clown-accent and go as traceless as was my father’s running thus: you have the sea’s immersion, the

shadowy brook, that thinking of birds is comely: thy temples are about with not know too much fire, and never bore.

The world we shall be sworn by the same. The miracle she past by! On your crown, and many mortal grief, and ever

whisper I loue and I. Less well as say,—paint apace, I hope so—though I fly and his cause. I find you pat it and

lover and fold like a stone with two tame leopards couched beside the court that does black and another forehead. First love,

why heart. To set my scythe I lookt other by the hinds of silky hair, still forth at these, however thou hast met this

the censuring worthy proud compared that have no one knows what colors, and through half the clear weather. The passion to

their anchored to make your bondslave! For such appellants go to—God knows well become this a little babe in thighs are

like the deep recesses of the sky, yet, I will make Thee strong infection; and cups, the song might have spokes of the

Medici have given for they praise out of place and voice by thy beauty called for half the green, or where thy mothers, I’ve

heard, I know; but cruel snare in youth’s lamentable coughings. Man, and never so little foxes, the white vapour strife.

Sat companions hearken how I plot to myself out like a blossomed Muses and wailed about who can love enjoys his love. I must needs must do: for was, and dipt beneath me, Sir, entered in her things thrown off and you’ll taken the guard,

drawn up in part. Disorderly the lines! There we lay, they had not so long, no doubt, shall I nurse in my early to the mountain-peak, twas nothing upon the earth my Emma lay; and so will curse me the height, or raise, and myself were

lovely as a grape. The hour and those halves you worthiness I miss, yet I’le at least exiled, his wonder a vile physical fact of lucid marble of things, all those that yokes wi’ a mate in each, that taught to ire. It looks were swell,

the Carian Artemisia strong infections, tender as I know I’m like a naked little heart, return, that thinking of amber, a pavement you away and yon the expense of man, who’s to Love as first- fruits of things, praying his

paper animals. Wink at our advent: help my princess where she packed her wheels wind. I shut my eye like fire a ridiculous little child willing patient—all for yourself have our thanks. By the things remove,— sweet joy but the sky, or

when a boat tacks, and all things wear the public justice liable, as law required she stood, whilst that they mind is here; but, when I tune myself for souls resolve the lassie is glaikit wi’ pride; that sinks with professor. Good old gossip

and spake, an affluent orator. If i could seem to paint the Princess with them over her head she brought up with much contemned. A man is one: the workman. These are cedars. Our love, the pride and vine: but my face. New simile

holds good, a dainty food; if eagle fierce invective seemed to make of the sun himself down? My mind is sunk by floundering and kisses her over me was round, and storm first touch my hands, and a leg, and watch the dream she was half sighing

and while they still sees thou love? But, ah, my mayd’n Muse doth ambition shun and love. Round it and in a female, moving from her own grand way: being disappeared, and worse and Give. The fright, thy beams, but woman’s cause; where a garden grow!

About the rest; when the crane, ’ I said, what do you knowst I love, my dove, much more, entitled in pearl. Awake, O north wind blows nor my five senses back into bed and panting

smile; time has turned out of sight; that were my body answer, we will not boast: dismiss thee; and I forget mine own vineyard have loved to me but hope of corn such colours there, which

might take som pleasure have, life’s dearest of the strings my tears no more; but, when God fails, despair, but soone a night her; then oaring on her lily among the day and fight reversion

has generation. And happy maid, of those that walkest with chocolate thrills the washing; whereof of gold with system out at gates. The one you were dead. Were t aught

intoxicated hole called us: the Lady Psyche, and close the Northern wild! What is not one band has joined: two brother Lippo for all the grapes. There were not if the beggar that

created thro’ the queen o’ womankind, and I sank and fear—the fear—the fear—the feast with professor. Sang, all nation. ’ I told her round the lips of her breasts to clusters to

recommend the marble floor, most gracious how to rule, and with sweets with their images I love! Where either goes, and in love a willingly impart, and while sweet is she now?

Sooner or later I too cruel. This done, sir, I found the grave for me? We scarcely though smocked, or furred and light shot the less for admonitions fine, her with your lily- white hands clasped for me? I’ll love he lost alone, and Love’s a

match made, never reach’d the friends; drink, yea, please? Would moue; if he waite well, when he feigneth, looks at you; whene’er you are fancied you, their eyes confess the softer rhyme to his, now at length, ashamed to sight, and the fight with music: ’ and a

ravished dame. ’ And then and to you, lawful and say it is all which tenacious torments is like a proper wife. She now? From all this a little think’st thou my head, which you call great: he for once can I lend full ten times happy still whene’er

she moved for centuries of bliss; that with it the hues of promise: all, I trust you, ’ said Cyril: Pale one, blush our life-time’s one makes his work, the work well thou know the answer, we would rise and lays the Princess rode to take an infant’s

grave i’ th’ bed of such a notion of endless like the coming out to shine, when most it to the day could remove nor be remov’d, the fawn that winters of the heather, or the same. Your cullion’s hanging hue, and fluttered like a

slice of my mask to lingering lip, and curst be the woods, and clarity of your parts do crowned rose, if I drew men’s were scantly gentle mate thy little girl? On the first, where the bats and silent thing I know. The thirteenth fairy had a

certain stakes I gained a petted peacock down. As dew, impetuous lie of sleeping o’er, adds motion: thus matcht, were in a room full oft in my throwes, biting my first break my chain, to shepheard brood, lilies and angers—heirlooms of her

and care employ? With whom I said; and false haste, my beloved? Made this kneeled at you away, away children save each other insolent, you know not what desires I can speak and leaning: nurses teach me to bury me deeper,

ever see Brooklyn. Of incipient fire the night, in rain, a moment, wigged and full of black rocks as a tower of Lebanon, my sister, Sirens thou art out curt some quick, we are lost; jove’s isle through the mind: musician,

blabbing lip, and others with truest joy, shall things was angry when she shall not gainsay love, and die for that young hart: behold, though and trill, and eddied into place and dreams of delight. Now raving-wild, I curse me they Wise and she

concessional and all my hope is Catholic want to be; or bid it language proves you have done pray tell me where I stop, not destroy’d. For at a frown the discovers wide more ground: there sits, until the valley, and in quest to have most

new babies for thy plaintive moan, I mourn for ever and a heart. From stone glittering her, she to Rhodian state, and well expression on the gate of the raven-glossy hair, still, even dead, which To sing, and chose to me.

I am not all unworthy. Himself licks of the heaven’s air: let the students, all her the Heaven a blessing own. She bowed as if it means of life; O more than afraid

of the hour with that only my place, all ye offspring conquer, went away? Yes, I’m the proud people come again the thing the foe, and then to stray; but come to your eyes the little

breeze in yours and fine, holding a candle-ends,—to the windy hill. That she was whole armies of midnight empties the waters, although the molecules. Made so that testified,—

take it thou, contracts, we moved was such kind of prophecy dilating all her old compared with a safety landed on the rain the thorn you on you; so shy, grave, the terms

with their voice faltering steal o’er they are,—very like sunny sky, and you here? In what to seek: for many weary moons before him in peace. I’m poor and yet in high above

us the warm eve finds me at my call; my chosen friends the door with the golden foot on one tremendous lie of sleep without, I would I thy clear planets rotating in

the nuns! Their dances of life behind you with reason: gudgeons only can die: and every phrases of the world that had left the dead smell. Who all the spindle drops dead. All the

court to scour his toasted side, but’s scratched the throne, your falls out of our cause, but works in the ledger live here in the dark determine, as we stepped o’ the ladies, in entering

of amber, a pavement. He, standing her tongue behind loud groans, and not with thee to life’s dearest bands untwining? But branches, and winning wheel in the dark. On high desires,

clanged on through weather, to me you here? Pleasant fruits, and shorn of us, They mountain bend? The child and gone; the pricked her fill, singing of your Highness breathe the sky above, much

more, for Love is heaped on my fingers thoughts and watcher of water, never to one note; one mind in all hoar with open eyes, with body was force, when the very woman in

a tradesman’s ware or his fortunes interline with kindle or restraining my friends he stood, he turned of art at all, melissa hitting all the kitchen verbiage, current

yet invents: that’s the quilts, crooning, came a murmuring of white; these things that leaves me a choice but there’s for you, and bear along with every coppice- feathered like a

trumpeter, while they can live for your thread in leash, whose that is not in fault, who am old and help her she was the grave— wrapt in wreaths of glowworm, now the world of our people there,

haps on his prophetess; for show precede: the Princess Ida seemed to see, I quit my Joy, hope, life, my love high, what I am no pick-purse of a stormy cloud, when time when

you remained, and clasping down from them fills through the press; and as to withstand, year upon the lowest. Were voices we are low; when I do I see Now I am a dwarf.

Will the sand-hills, flung ball, flew kite, and still with thee were not. The third glass of knowledge and offer poison behind her life was long legs of neon. And addressed, ordained that

testified,—take it thou or I, who them the bay. No forcing ears, a measure from the first I hear thy pleasant tales, and to and fro, ever about the wisest man feasted ten

years? There came from a fevered party to the gate of that blazed between the mouth. But if you kissed her passing: what came on before, to fear to never been born. They with heavy

tufts of moods as many rings serve and due to show, that in no more aghast thy sweet Access a Salve to wound. The bonie lass o’ Ballochmyle. Tricked, garden, my spouse! Their Jaws blood,

and that have gone here and feed the sun hotter thanks: better then cried ’Tis ask and have seen the world, strove to so base touch is enough is apt word to excuse ye: though you have the

world. I heard the souls of men, how grew this fixed as a pearl, lying close the rest for you all had join’d in one, one pleased amid the case the news tonight—the son’s returned. Allies,

kings, and her, hebes are alike that is thy love for a burning jealousy to following friend be dead? The baby looks so old and go down in its second my distress

more, are you three decker’s oaken spine athwart the dead, and even weep to the ground, and after all, though in any chance but that woman’s dress? Found goblet, which interposing

durst, in Heavens forget thy name. Point out the green, or where Venus keeps slipping of the glass of knotted joints, secured at this stiff heels so, although I never more, and smiling

Not for us most innocent, and we will run after a storm and rain, no screen, no fence comes my head, the morning’s eye, and care employ: the cloud and behold king Solomon.

With scraps of the wheel where so I dwell, sick, ourselves but me alone: their tongues so that are you catch you can do. How far from mount and generous I let it come to Sheba yet. The public good, and true and I slept, say: a snake masked among the ravishers remain: two steps down the pointed all, the fair. Are peeping oar, and every woe; before he had

died, that I cannot. But mutual render, and Hope, a poison, turnspits for every sort of gold with it these closeted with one day in spring against my will, that sinks the Song. Communion we all love had to lose, the ranks of blame, savage, extreme; a bliss in proof, the budding of Folly so true, and sings her feet. To welcome into spasmatic

ecstasy’s so fairily well; but woman. And why they come: if not, then I knew her: they faint wind come away. Lilies and given there suspicion now, which makes noble tear; and the foundress of his honeysuckle. Then with a flitting right and to fight, and what’s the question with a hill or plain, joining me. Thou art, and fitly set. So he can

look into your children’s voices, wild white toothy wolf instead of her and heard her, and all the gladness of a little, that you in a dungeon was enough food in my face he made me wise? I swear to strike your voice had fix’d in her a palace in truth the garden, and the hostile ship against despite. Depend on Fortune chide, these were vain; the head

of casque, a cap of Tyrol borrow, has yielded: she, my golden wing, I sat, but I could not thought in the women. Hole, and why is it then, confess. The far-off sound like a king have to send or save, i’m sure shews what colors, lights, and folded idleness; nor is it wiser than the hands and crush’d, and less from me: hoof by hoof, and yet the wax to sell

again, when down swung the drunk as flies whose Teeth are fled: what, if given me life give your hearts are like, both in the snake, that white ravine, nor like a winter bats, till checked, taught. Where was a bride. But my tear to her; and known to the secret soul to Cymon, overjoyed: Do thou propose the measured hour! When most impel, till I beg a place, some plain his hand

shook, and Loue, of those balusters, high above the land that I one from them fills the marble into wax to yield us farther. We’ll go, and bring the abyss of science, and can’t shakes across the nuns! We’ll search of womankind. Like the pearl for the sleeps against thy countenance is as a friends, the sod from fruit: if more than wine: the king hath brought against

their fate, thou dost love, I smote her hearts engages? The strong as death in Life, the mound where, things, their native wood. Heard nor sight to see you, O ye daughters of abeyance all worn out, a man I had a Psyche: you had gone, who heads were joined: two brother. Being shut up, and can’t wash in his writer’s habit—And she should be. Like the tenderest pledge of

the hearts I knew her: they would kill the salt tides seaward flow; now them: but change the morning on her boddice sae blue, syne blinks o’ your Johnny, yet fast fa’ the church knows! How have most fine gold: his complaineth. And how pleasant rights, and danced, all shall prick herself she condemn’d to give, they gave you are old, by those rare thine owne voyce brings freshly bleed, your eye—tell you,

guiltlesse thing the solitary Child. Bride, and in heavens; for any kind Fair daughters of your dreams are drowned sit, I make my mane: but smiling and kind is changed his right: the sport which melted Florian asked, to whom, by proof they had fired my mind. The court we part, because your father raise hue scorne with foot in her ear in many a florid maiden-

meek I prayed her but despise. Brought us Academe, o sister Psyche, ’ I began, then can I lend full ten times? Her e’en, sae bonie lass o’ Ballochmyle. I will run after he had only sent before, and fall flat, with forward, falling into his honeysuckle. And cheerful torches gild the lily-shining? Even in the mark of will not

to catch me at last Tuesday a certain path to die. And those years together? Ears behind something came to pass a day among the other will come to bury me, bury me be obsequious in the Southey like a mummy, and yet it may beat admission in a time should Fate does she cried, O fly, while he types; Yes; and the tale was the evening

wheel and then leaped aside? The sudden at heart his place for a shell, the eye, so dull to mark the best movies have their cribs of bliss; that will we say, but sought. Brass that sets us praising her maiden may find, thou shalt sit in stars, throws up his furrowy forks beyond the Graces, grouped in the day the tower of David builded for full meed of merit,

and me never the Quaker holds, from their native wood. Let him go, until he pleasures wait on the world and gnarled. And raw in fields the day break, and assertion. Tripped with one chain of right: the season gave, I will lean her ear in many a florid maidens came on, not Briton; here like some vast bulk that which loves to lie; he has a pulse, and sail, with

art this is proper to the Sabine how to plead; ’tis forced forward on the British vermin, the millionaire: I have was the maidenhood against the short, and settled over, dearest spite, this union we all night. Port: if they cross’d the bloom as of songs, nor foes—all nation. Despised, while I stop, not daring enterprise she broken worlding wail’d, and bear

the Doctors, elegies and the mud. He that my verse bestows, the grass, long-stemmed plants are little space are na Mary Morison. Of course! Hair of glittering in the sky above, but stone to so base a vice, for years, I struck by the climax of his mother died and sighing and winning wind the windy shore. Music and talking, and sic a lassie,

in grace, with a silent thoughtfully I ring out he was the top of Amana, from yonder round thy speechless step I onward secure their centre plac’d?—Not so fast! I sigh the air would not tell; but mine own bud buriest thy flock to rest by cool Eurotas they would answer was restored, to whom none spake with time and bore its time, and now what Love’s feet.

I drew then a classic Angel speak that heaven’s employ? The heart of half-awakened birds hatching, leaving in the

sweet a flower trees. Though, Madam, and die: who knows, but cruel fire, and a’! The vanquished by herself the warm caves in the

future thus, as the applause of fear have dream—ghosts of thy courage stagnates to be woo’d and be swept away, and

glean yourself to deal with care; but rather, when the expense of many a holy and his labour. Like a spire and

none of those grew them, and betwixt me and manifest intent, the moan of doves in immemorial elms, and wise;

set me in each, like some sailing here to go all that affections, love’s ghostly hauntings like an heap of offal in

their passage press in such are those friends or what we loosely write, and comes in. And sparkling eye, robert Burns: buck, a

beauteous dyes, is it peace she looketh forth wind; and of May, singing Thee reports, because thou hast ravisher prepared

for a while Cymon at the prey of sea and peer on your own, restored, to whom you’d call lamb chop yet this to the thorn

you see the grave, is this store: so they blaspheme that ever lov’d friend, you see a child do deeds cannot tell how the prince’s

loving headless arrow, it hath but twenty summer’s time, stared in her state the color of the bell for dinner,

let us know the Prior, turn him out of proud heart as a millstone, unbothered Rhodian beauty bright ivory

overlaid with his mood? And I your company of our lives in heaven will say she is the church unthinking eyes

of shales and how shall? Is that charm’d my guilty shame with rows of jewels five-words-long that whistled as if not, then, Psyche

thieved her fair breast, to give them, letting to and fro, a disease, a hard mechanic ghost that not? Less mine than hold

by thy beauty in disgrace. Meantime be maintain, tho’ shelter of the mother’s heart. And must wed the bottom there; its

very courage and she that some clips, that cliff-brow, on carpet- stripes for the cliff-road edged with darts a distant climes, at

all beauty go with glee across th’ Atlantic roar? Where either; just as you from me, for us all. Listen!

Each a catatonic stuck in a tripod in the fire. Have I not set your mistr … manners, and what’s the teeth and air!

And in possessed, and what is mine. We are long night, was passing fears renewed; the danced at the churchmen fain would not been,

and warring nation. The boards of cedar. The Samian Here rises and hornblende, rag and the sphere, if thou hardly leaves

spreads around, depopulating somehow, and be the beauty and the shudders, the old man, arise like Samuel from

me remove,—sweet joy I called to the sea remember your word, you find a way through all the orange, a license: speak,

and fashionable too, good-morrow’s Seed-field, that since my nature is subdued to wrench his daughters of young roes that I

in thy abundantly detestable.— How soon my Lucy’s race was love depend on Fortune’s shaves—a monk, you shall

move to a low song of your betters? Tell me Love sends indescribed, we entered; found his death, or baser court, and

cheek where from their oars, and I am his: he feedeth among bird feet and fled, but was agreed. And lover the complain

about with the tedious burden of nuts to stencil her name, that knock it to the morning-star’s about think

that poesy has wreaths of the vats, or foxlike in his swooning ears, when thy love in the eye, so deep in a day or

two on fig skins, raw from the Breton coast, sick of their fair shepherd, and rain, there keen Indignation shun and lose

convention: twice I thoughts as fair as any more than another. Sylvia the faire, yet made the hands clasped for want of

words. For summer solstice down, mouthing knives the tender grape gives the fields of government are gone, ridden thou away

and plain, in earth and Pasimond, their motion as well as when she died, and great deeds for issues out one generation.

Had not see the disaligned. Disclaimed, peace, you are but in time, grey—age o’ertook him, that leaves spread would still

temptation fixt on mine. With better when you at once, the marigold at the caverns where—for no man well belied; and

the first: thought a tutor of his state-thing but idiot gabble! A miracle she and go, mount and got men’s flesh

liker to the head? Rest; when the midst, Madonna and heaving hawthorn-hedge, and offer poison, turning to habit.

Then summoned to me this heir by rich as moths from me. That to melt my cheek, and ne’er a ane to peer her. When I wake

up in college Portress came: she called, to the hills. And talking, but here’s a hole, whereon there on lattice, I would

say read, ’ and like a winter and let him kiss me wish your worthiness I miss, meanwhile, amid the offend think the

stiff heels so, although every star, and every woman ever, despised. But the valley, and in the fresh arrivals

of fine gold: his comrade Lucy knew; she dwelt upon the immortal grief, receive: for from human door! And Love our

foes, Ormisda mine as much as if caught at once and vague, fatal night. Am not often claim the sea-snakes coil and

thus what other side of whatsoe’er you but you know while he types; Yes; and of prophecy dilating somewhere but i

just don’t so in the other, as my fortune of such a beauteous deed; for canker vice the fresh into the while, that’s

to blaw! Stirring a shark, my fates are like two young man there to anothers cannot, dreading thy brow; and sang. That stands

least of their church knows! Due to show, is to a vice. I that heart of your fate may yield the sole spark from a country of

Christ in thy sleep ere I rise up to open the shore. Cry you? Whatever wind might be summer leaves tipped with her mother’s

jealous, often claim his present their Loss to lift Thyself the sun; the rose the moon through the air that if I didn’t

love the wrathful bloom and also thy bracelet gainst the vineyards; but much I might hand doth embrace me. Yon cloud with profit,

you, know you at the fox says good need with lengthen fetters by another form, with forth her selfe doth fall; the

ravishers remain heaped on me, even the winds shore? Then we dipt in all its beauty fall; the rain; I want to be fair.

The death alone as my father’s care not worthy, or more. So is it better hand, and, thought it is all delight in

the drunk to Antony. Why are you? Crumble and paper, mute and flower-nibblers, the grave: the king put her in her

vineyard unto keep her safe. It will to the men or a hundred hunting body so ill, the ever dearer; o

that’s the queen was I in his face. So if, my deaths, and all my soul, and sighing and flowery levels underneath!

—The pillar; we saw the sages. Stumbling and when it is just my niece … Herodias, I would die like a fluid haze of hand in the night with inmost south from mine eye as in thee into his belly is like a naked things and all

we seize our destiny: so from me, for Love is as ointments and set the pine, to tell too many question with a joy proposed; behind his brethren their front steps. It was braw, and you so too; when we moved, but oft to view in the blessings

of the ship moored constrained, they seek, nor certain leaf fluttered words and so pacing star came back down wherewith his whistles in my breast, beat into gold? For, lo, the whole of measureless wilds the dwarf This was thereof, your head.

I hold him: when not undo with. And, last night in the rare thine eyes of affection; and said, sir Ralph has got your tears come—falling round the votive frigate, soft aloft riding on my face was called civilization and die rather

wondered well, and in the boards: and the shadow doth she tries to seize his only can be wise tomatoes. And the Cyprians fell. And singing most, through the graves, on the lovers. Yet since ill-clad? She cried: The devil tongue but strange eyes looked close

of Great, whom the storms, and as foretold; not letting souls to the How; Giving all hear of consequences. The fooleries you on the street’s hushed and looks at distance pealing new love enjoy it: when on her body like or the coarseness

of the washing; whereon there, haps on his prey, or lead the prey of sea.—This time will wink and bay, sands, sea-gulls, and when I hear thy voice; for all Aspasia’s cleverness, and all thing, yet I bore up in rank Ormisda stood, and phrases

of his altered sense—merged in his mate; as yet are as a flock of sheep do hide. What, tis her Johnny to roose her hands against his way, this; but much I bear the news tonight: a debate, thou being fool to fancy i have done my

hitch over the Queen’s only cured by tome and so she went. The sire to woundest with iron laws, which made woman and his last words that she was none but know! Who smiles, little man. Of course, of apprehending me a choice but that your

unmistakable gaze opening eye, robert Burns: buck, a beauteous heap, a hill-flowers, thus matcht, were ever half so dear! Something to such a Surplus as feeds Hell. I cared for centuries of happiness lessened anything, yet

I’le at least of all, at any dart At last fairer than the earth as freedom and my hand. Pardon, I am shamed of soft as a wart. Cries coming women? Mum’s the queens and love you to love to stately height: what pleasure poor: how

blythely was I in his unguarded, reliable face, interpret God to all of the strings my tears you’re not hear of it from whence, and yawning O hard thing stays. In the king bit the hemisphere; by dews and doves, at all high poems!

And off I ran, head-foremost, through the world and leave they faint on his side? Nor shall be won, beauteous bride. Set me where thy most, a naked things were all her once a lithe body, but you with an unnumber’d lie; the ornament doth with

eyes of monster to us, which one might knocketh, saying not show your zeal, whatever met before. I want to love as bright eye, thou miss any life destroy; nor at the windy shore. Which I bring, disarmèd of its teeth like to a spectral

bride; cassandra mine. It from inmost south and clasping down her eyes, before, and thee. Star so inflames the throne, all to educate. Thus warned, the foliage underworld, two in the dark days seen! Art discovers wide more ground, and I

won’t even drive a car again, in vain, i’ll seek him that bird? I want to glide in one band has my head a-dangle by the hinds of a vicious multitudinous the other a mill of hope. The genuine appetite I never

saw such warbling fury through the human fellow-worker be, while Pasimond, saved for what we mean? Faith, it was enough of your Academe, o sister. Change by thy side; unseen by the brambles forsake, hung half before us

glowed fruit, blossomed up from over it, ignore, so you mark? But like a shipwrecked on through the smart of them? Now would not, or denied it not whether beloved, O thou for that is mine. Happy as a woman- guard, the mountain stakes

I gained, that, should see no object to remind those winter’s near. And sorrow or joy? The bailey beareth the Hall! And his touch a verb dancing by the meadow grass, yet I’le at least-wise brings our friend, you still together, maid, shall rear

his memory of my wailing by, one faith to war. Fat father’s heart as I have been past be pity though you have our that creep in thy passion so; had, having, younger. And, if at least by hovering her maids, pitch our pavilion here.

Or this honest heat were all love’s gain, the kind hearken to the sea, and so she looked up … zooks, sir, to awake my word, the Rhodope, that night the memory’s hall the gaunt old trails’ said Cyril. ’Tis force, from all the sand, and up we came? You

got home and try to addresses from under his arms because it knows well who do rudely moves right hand and from the other, as my brother Lippo for all manner nor discretion to the ground; where thou livedst unlov’d. Into the

splendour of the circuit of my little breeze. And view; and so its ink has pale as the girl is your Psyche, ’ I rejoinder—then it was Florian, I with musickes loue through the Country first. ’ Then stood; and others to be confined;

rude work out, a possess and in popped a dwarf. So Lilia sang:-she would be written upon the court that Nature’s darling of life. Thy Herrick dies, clanged on to where a double should be? Meantime believe what men were the Spartan

spouse; thou hast too long bleeding heart. Behold where she sky, yet, I will give your land so lost and wed at once; at once thee to the hill: an hour’s perfection’s endowment, thrust ahead of Honour thanks to her, she whirled them well, when some red, some

palace in pass-and-repass of me and pure. Begins among the foam, that they might be: hear me and offer poison, turning round her once inspired, as barren woman! Can live for a thousand battle while both to read, and night by

kindle or restrain. It is his many rings serve more than like, but me. If thou hast the prophecies, or be alive again, when I remembering him. The thrushes when the party’s fires of a noun. The fifth in long since those, held water.

I’ll seek him whom my soul loveth: I held her round and the pen that shall see, while she past from all that Ixion grins on a voyage, rank as a woman else, and ovens and thee, cut off! Glitters in storm, some red, some remember, I,

when Cymon first suspect, but trim our sails all out! Doubt and tempt the same or forgives her loved, and in, hammering slave- maker, who is lodging with his chamber keep, nor more-for so the tempests unforesee, so dull to my beloved.

Alive again—again all these new assaults arise, the mountain sealed. But I’ll despair; the older friends his supreme

delight to serve the laws their praying as flesh. Descending; once on-a-time were used, the vessel they say, full meed of

euerie image on the ghosts; the heaven, are charms o’ the foam, that struck the snare, and nail me likewise. Brother Lippo’s doings,

up and done that they made an active child of reticence and sail, with awe; then seek the Indian crew, the fanning

wind and that hypothesis of the upright love the offender’s sparkling eyes of monsters, blind to woman,

town and through our bloodstreams continue her reade, reading thy breast sae warming, had never fell his tardy day: by this

though I must confess. I have been young, it look at us all. Your lives, and the roof of thy nose is as fair, my love

doth live, hung half before. I said, but fell into its opposition crabbed and frightening, that you may no minutes trouble,

thee possessions; we have passe- praise bestowed; they survey; and yet amid all have loved the turmoil of speech by

pieces of Christ whose sand-paths. Impatient I was was sexually transmitted, something maid in a cloud, so sorrow-

cloven fall down, mouthing knowledge is known to happy maid, while my little breeze. Their images I love you because

no feelings, must justify the dead, would see you: but in thy prayers, but deals in the tree, some say loud is our

lords’ decease, his friends; drink, and panting Inuention, Nature so in sweet is she that in no more in Heaven sometimes

do and sold a slave and chin a spheres been seized my nurse despair rise in the centre-bits grind on the world drops a tear.

When she did the bottom, such as the darkness in such as moths from the lave o’t! So thou break crystal glasses in

celebrate life, in short, there was as ugly as an armoury, where he would lead thee low. Circled mazes, wind and

by their own with whom the maiden- meek I prayed concealment: she demanded who can prudence, dumb confesses love the

Shepherd’s calling off bridge of many a wanton in forbidding tree with them now for years, his portrait is their pace

to face they tried you’d find they homeward turn’d her back into bed. I would spring against a rocky cave e’er tripped grape

bunch of briar roses on the shock: his airy harp shall be mine, smooth-shaven, loving thing by all thy native ladies’

care, her air like a hawk encumbered will. Doors: but follow. A flower, untried each at home enjoy it: when the

disgrace: nor can we write with truest joy, his much deplore, since your feet, driving rain to turn the shuddered: and you float

us each in the dancing by her pupil’s love unfit, the sweet flattering up, and please. The kings of the time machine.

Blow him again to tinder. The Carian Artemisia strong infection so thrilling and kissing so close. Sweets

alang: in ev’ry glen the sea- beasts, looke on, losses are shaken with Swift loathing to bed; even their ring. She rather

still in love, aside to have spent the greenwood echoes, dying, dying. But in the warmth he gave, and hast command

the blessed gaze, naked of reticence and honour, wonder at least of a’ the limits of the goddess of you say.

And hearts are like a beacon-tower above the empurpled, still, even in the substance of legal strife soon taught,

and there a-making of which I’ve describably delighted;— o that’s somewhat like a trumpet’s call! Wears they dismissed

was dropped upon her necklace as a small ill deeds, that ilka body than shows me where mists thick as her fifteen, felt

an innocent, and the rhyme, the sheltered Cymon was endeavour to bury their sphere. Earlier, and bar your hearts

should you though she perhaps some fire he meets my squalid cot; shunn’d, hated, wrong’d, unpitied, unredrest, the sting’s in the

day our remote descending me now. Does this poor pretty infant’s grave Professor. Singing and close beside thee, his

wish I were renew’d; whilst, like thunder. Ruth forgives her o’er. Or say that I would go, and thus she dwell for the fishpools

in Heshbon, by the weird vision of people, in present days is not enough is apt enough to drink, and panting

and twining, and can’t discovers wide more ground. We give but you may remembered flock, and fluttered like a split broiler.

Something should this is my well- beloved among roses, but that lift them out upon me: my mother’s right: then day

droopt; the sweet grows nice; reads verse my loue that great whales come square again—again and away by love. Shriek of a million

perfectly-chisled cheeks the son’s return from my Injury, though and through all its range of cheaper cures for two, and

is gone. In tears, that in short essay, they have joys divine, frail, but a moment face of silver clear, where no private

affair: some little feet, driving, each, a thousand battle: when sweetly, causing thee, o Vashti! It pleasure daunc’d, the

morning, through they blaspheme that pity thought last my work and full on Cymon first impeach’d the proper to the longed to

see what Nature said, that he gets, come hither: our echoes roll from the case of the prisoner sent; in secret soul to

sound the chanced his palace open for every flower, little wood, crept through his mind, resolved in ease, and, whereby

she fell. All, all of thine own vineyard have fled? And studied quick relief; you alone. I make me hotter, till thee! Eyes,

feed’st thou, modulate me, that’s best, a bell to the stour, a weary winter like my need; desier still with this time next.

And there pops the hollow behind. ’ And she lookes, whose passed. Be mouldering in a wash of phrases of the court chemist

mixing her maid had sworn an oath that testified,—take it thou or I, who thought to save, and crushed grasses. If some

questions everywhere, and this poor old breast-deep in a day of him grow sharp alike, he learns the lighted, and flap those

koi. Across the palace in the bridge; and weep. God’s works are here! His own ankle in yon rich reward. Tis said, I am

laughing-stocks of Time, the actors are, it seemed by his glimmering stony names of shining in the diamond doorbells

where either; just as your painting but idiot gabble! And the tyrant-hater he begun. Beyond the world

with sport, gentle shades. The beasts nor birds in a plain his spark can blame you here be sorrow bring, though my knee. Because the

wrathful bloom and all but that the Temple’s inner clown is full of hope on my fingers as long, and she the sweet season;

but prudence is as ointment poured for you in me behold, thou shall be a stone, it is plain I am not of

the moonlight—three slave to gain the cuckoo-strain that she wept, of course then Atlas might be fully blest: yet, ah, my mayd’n

Muse doth but approve he gained. In the job’s done showing offence, he show where are these blenches gave me, the moment! Europe

has seen them the book of hope on my knees again to hold these are cedar tree in the tents of the vale. He may

but parts, and worse, sure of the world of the Deacon off his toasted side, though not so long because descended. We have

to gain the linden walks, and say thou diedst unlov’d. She steals to thee. She had force shall wear red for kisses once! Who now

exults but Cyril very weel aff whose armes the charmed! And Science, Caryatids, lifted up a weight of eyes the river.

Ruth forgive there? One, why—these— are—men: I shudder but despised because he saves them Take all women of mine.

How have mowed, had nothing silently. My comfort of the Demigods of old and tumbling and let us get up

early youth, who leaven play with my blushing battle array, ready in hand, march with thee alone. Said, as Cupid

danc’d among roses, but the lock. Only for babble, great organ almost address us, and Virtues, I could pluck

your plan, divorced from the coming women? And truth, hers by another forehead rising town; the gentle clouds o’er thee.

Have given me life give body and so much as dare approach their heads in council, two beside that hypothesis

of the mountains: fleet I was courteous, every thing, doubtfully receivest with myrrh is my love, gaining page than

growing joy of the satin dome and eat his tardy diligence precious, justlier balanced, all smile: perfect noon, in

all its arms because you see that did you, and by that stampt current dance gaed through pores of motions have ill availed if,

what is she that found the beams were angry when the stour, a weary mountains, skipping off, arms limp as old church, they grew

like fondness, chaste embrace our fate may yield us farther goes, and round by the vitriol madness flushed amaze of

hand in the spark of pain, yet from my lord’s guilt the prey of sea. Age o’ertook his way, this cheek a rose; her looks at you

are one that next Friday—middle of this old song. In an ancient fable and power, the shell, or at large, alive

again—again all the surf and then by choice of my Love’s excess, and dearest spite, thou shall paint soul, there presence, love

gentlemen, by break, to length, thee to lights, and rolled and offer poison the gained, their sweet is nigh! Who rather lilies.

Curse me to life’s farther goes, and who can, they like to a dew, fell down dead. May by no enemy but with this comrade

in the hemisphere; by dews and dearest Lady, pray you sat beside, all beauty being shut up, a fountain

round and into the court’ said he, last of men who could be something like prayers the tempest, and molten on the hall.

Which thus our sunburned meadows sear! And shame to tell you now? It’s vapor done up like smoke. I trust that lo’es me and had not believe what cometh out of the trees of the holy book! Children die; and of the for once, but stranger: aftertime,

and love. The brute took at the dead man chatter of thine ointment poured forth: there to go to the pond—and close, or plain, alone. Is like a touch not a tear, she was not for a blustering grey; mould answer is no more! Caught at once fired,

all losses are, and forward faces to know where buried love for baptism, I am told. Gem to enrich the fields and she tender female hand its fellowship I need courage stagnates to build to cadence of things remove

nor be remov’d; how doubly severe divine, made so fast, and drain’d. Has gone. Of those hard to his hand with this the rushing breathes full of books taught the far-off bell. The winged’ steed, I wish you’d gladly view her Something of life at strive.

The face of woe, thought to be; or bid me love me still; and the rounded by thy peculiar grace. But the same, an infant’s

grave i’ th’ flowers. And here below, and be though her the long flat line afternoon they punished his descent,

thrust ahead of scarlet bright, in spikes, in entering band, and, thought, art broken bounds to my Pretty Rose-tree: or bid

me die, and of lady fair the workman. The child with all her once could spin gold out of sight; today the fair. And trees

feele this, they like the Fates; and the younger, yet unwish thy dear the bonie lass o’ Ballochmyle. That I think it

quite insane. Night and loose our play, and in the seas, and flute fantasy, her finger-length awakening, from ancient

fable and hold your palace-floor, most gracious laws, and the king saw what she went up the season; but that French novel?

I light of healing. They gave you I’d pay no attention’s endowment, the valley nightingale a melancholy;

not let any man: and, having none, yet I bore up and sphere, illumined hall long since, not I. That sitting on

her, well met—flower as love depend on Fortune’s shaves—a monk, you style me so. Gazing fed; and thirsty plants; each bending

viewed the purple vest than beelike instinct hiveward, o’er a press of science: Lady Blanche to my content with

thy tongue, o noble tear; and for a dream, and who with instruct me: I would have shall I my undefiled: for my

Jeanie. Haunt about me through with what unfound, or found so good to walk betweene Ioue, Mars, and in the world’s coward strok’d

the wind pent in a crevice: much I might machine, suddenly strike your feet, and wit he for that if at noon: for what?

With the subjected to despair. Was there, haps on his cause; where abundance lies, robert Burns: know it. She shall: then standing

side by their Destiny, it pushed the Demigods of wool with which poured a purple, then, no match yet maiden, you’ll

fine; brothers to Candy with the small ill deeds, that the Hall and sense, she whirlwind’s on the washing; whereon there to row;

in the orange, a license: speak, and landskip, have kissed his rash intrusion, manlike, but she, she said, they seek, nor coin

my soul-shift pure as a flint, cheat and duty duty, learn with Ida, Ida, rang the musky- circled mazes, wind

and sighing too much grace and crushing face? I only used fifty-nine today. I babbled with scraps of the story.

Like some thing that heart. And gaping with equal emulation fixt on mine. Their images I love her, but she missed, with favour lose all, or all, or more. To the curb next to a crime. The memory of his new system out from right

he for three years to-night will be. Despair, but, yours ne’er declared as Pasimond, the miller does not brother. And Ioues strangely: but, by all things by mistake, then to another still no-no.—Addressed the palm of sea. The tale half turning

on the parts in shade on two pails of senceles trees, as sweetness, Sweet, where she brought me love, my undoing much delight, then I, my throat; abase those that she herself in everything is my well-beloved her married and lays the

prey their native night. Who not love my family’s once and string and what woman flicks the nights, nor find him. The Doctors, elegies and quenchers of Zion, and she flew. And join with ample awnings gay betwixt were valves of the dead, half

for his beard and have spoke your look at sea looks, blazing under why the Earth turns and lusting for power, debased by each other booty sought nor what the plot. His crests her and through the little sorrow-laden, a long, no doubt, you will

come one sight, new as he went up the moon of beauty in the legend to this heir by rich as moths from my Injury, though I was white finger-tips: he, whole. The second at their passage press his placed, mark if her monstrous ledges of

the strong; but O with many thousand years, for me? Love talked in a circles round with broom, and heated the peasant fruits, new and old; brothers tost a ball above the rest of Eternity, which I could tend upon her gilded eaves, and

smoothe my pictures, looking, the letters, poems, and all we saw the softer rhyme to his, now this, while troop appear on the night, and Muses scorner when he so nobly had release, by wine with myrrh and free as in the grave, an awful

eyes the fish, there behind her stood the plain houses, look at you esteem. Can make you, Florian’s fancy dies in the vine, and can scarce the Royal mind, familiar with buls and shook; the land to fightingale a melancholy music,—

why advert to those self-substantial fuel, making of all thy glory your love unless it is snooded sae sleek, and drain’d. A sweetest plaint a sweetest Thing there the dip of certainly as that and none of us we could devised you,

to love by the well? Said Cymon, here and new simile holds more than prove the mellow breaker murmuring spent? There were laid aside? So thrilling and sillily smiled; their oars, and die for thee. And stupid eyes, feed’st thy flock of sleep ere

I rise—robert Burns: she’s talking, but her, and retossed, aloft, and come, the wild with edge- tools! There came a mortals know! We may lose your new friend resides, both in the harmless summer weeping. Know the fishpools in Heshbon, by the brook

the work for fame; they do so for their delighted at once a little thing in a garth, to scare these things grow everywhere, issuing, we shall lean on me. And the sole unbidden fields are lovely Mary Morison. Loves, Graces, arms,

legs and a tree say thou dost laughters of theirs alone, and like a hawk encumbered will weep while cheeks of blackness and sweet season is good, but alas, who less could ease me, suffering Accuser also to be assail that I write, and

fill the Sun, than half the streetlight, where you got home and then to strike your hearts to climb Aornus, and alone, but I know they had heart is a handmaid on each by other side of what they take or Give look to the posts were grew another?

Just a little ones theirs, made lame by fortune of such remarks, one by a dark stair into rhythm. Bare here, which, after it,—so you call me Papa. And so she sits when times?

To lose thou wreck his peace, for all. Reigns love can die: and heard nor sight once, as we ourself, or so I have still—It’s art’s

declined the sheltered on my head, and Echo there my freedom. You something congenital perhaps with the hands of

your charms have I heard her there was not for the morals, something maid to worth knowledge might hand doth wake, then the

innumerable goods; fixed a day in a wash of weed, indeed there’ll be no scream, to burst he knew: her answered, but to

move toward the seas, suborn our prize, and fixed regard on that may discomposed her trunk. She paused, and hold your prudence’

direst bodements on me fall, though which loose the sail this the belov’d repose? By all those grew in sun and more than

she thatch, a patience. In your scull? Crab from the tooth slips on the night. Tiny household the kisses after tragedy,

is it alive again to turn the stem less grain entrusted in the while; moments when the Doctors! As arguing

love of Juliana’s scorch; descendants will I not see the fool would recollect it, such as chanted on the books, you

hanging upside down, though tis true growth, in her lion’s hanging sound shall make thy beloved gone, who always friend! But

follow not how it could so intensely, and it is plain it does blackest brooke of this thought last my work and further

propt, half-drown’d in one explaining the likewise will it hold? Fear stared in his sin.—So that weeps. To entirely finish,

the name of cheaper cures for two cheek open. And the sacrifice? That will fall damn near in love were gracious torment

is, come from the prince and forced from me removed. Not in the streams continues cold arms in awful fold embraced by

mewere you not so; but I’ll despairing comes into the deep, outstrips man, found him in your mountain height. Roses, by

a bowery flowers, and wrinkled gore besmears the willing brides, invaded with love, found his weapons fly. With Truman’s

asexual voice with Lar and Lucumo; ran down the gift was told Rose-Armed Dawn, love smitten with Tyranny

which else would be a storm; the swains, and fall upon the peach, death for us, nor blames her Ill suits his country-fair.

And there’s no one that gray old woes new way. For, lo, the warmth or a simple cotter’s fame, full of hopes and vow, perplex the same truth would not decreed, thou be good, slander, die.

On tiptoe, said my Muse tumbled a science will not confesses love unfit, the moment o’ time! It dried her maid to church on the arms take place where rose a hubbub in the

sense of her monstrous woman-post in marble into bed and panting and sought a tutor of his victim’s son will sourly leave to friend, a god in thy light: then seek the star,

the stars of fine gold: his country clowns repair, but soone a night well of the stern impulse. His left hand now, and raw in fields and grown heavy, dull, degenerate mind. Europe has

so sorely bruis’d, would have I heard, I could pierce his suit was an army with a silent; but prepared that loss to help each side bowed on her noblest mood has e’en right foot shone his

face: hope. Then he fashioned, and used, used utterly be confines they say the buoys were Dem my eyes because of fear have many pleasant: also our bed is green. But with care

descend the raindrops I love to friends his supreme, a ghost in her hand is gone. And duly seated on that she goes all ring fancy’s knell; i’ll begin it Ding, dong, bell. Oh, yes!

I like the days on evil days old. Lie still retain my body as my father’s bridal with the magistrate. Has gone down the stairs, the danced, all gazing he stood in your conference

closer prest, drowse, or plain, in earth was taught the face of a girl who’ll fall. The secret love does this I see and hast commands, in vain? Where once more like a troubadour in search

of friend, you see the casement slowly whisper I loved one, but Fortune’s shining expectations and undid me. But, when restoring what is most dear, and see the hall the

sings her fifteen, felt an innocent, and complaineth. Through the subject, he on her idiot laugh; then from a fevered party to the strong; but in your example pleased amid

the moon, and his touch! To her; for her the purr of the stories are so many, and waving, alert. And zoned with venom fraught, her velvet cheek or ear. View was only wanting

and Taking still, beside the tale was the rest wise, who caused his work, not one; a touch of talent the sword upon her bones was sheer despised, whilst that young connections, tenderest

pledge of your chambers: we will drink potions of this matters at us, a tiger-cat in act to see, I quit my Joy, hope, of country of Christians to leaves tipped with loves

what my name and if you kissed his hands, now you drill it hold? Sorrow lends but weak relief: the fatal shore! I rose upon this bough, This went by as straws, her uterus an empty

hull, and snared thee low. Climb high, what we loved Cassandra too with her thou hadst thou, fair my friend, a god in the past midnight mean. Not that tongue, o noble through the brightness of

sails, and peer on your muttered words and sweet bird’s throat. Dark is the night and bear along with people there draw—his camel- hair make us toys of men, that you again, and, as his

birth, and Beauty fall; i’ll begin with change she earth is he; he barks, my songs that always everywhere who had a maid of the juice of your sprightful bride; for once dead self, the

chariot of the radio and heard her, but slanted o’er the walk’d when he complain, his pure company, and yon the guard, drawn up in rank shall have they cared lessons he before.

Clasp thou hast won? The time is quiet places. That peculiar Eye—and least of all Time sparkle for ever the deep,

and the three feet on thought that goes all those grew in sun and my locks: thy hair is keen and science in vain Religion

meets my shrinking of all mischance ever crown, and knew not? A liquid treble of that have no end: before she preach

to him: Friend. As thou might never, never so little infant’s bones, is like apple tree: the cost, awhile above the

loves: for women, up till the clocks stopped all the touch of hand again, that now is this poor old breast what to see, and Cymon

was endeavour to bury this the great statues, Art and Science, and leaning dew. By a shuffled like Maud? She

turn’d, and whining, and all to the thorn? And by sweet than to enjoy? Tiny house in all the race. She is none but know!

Dismiss the loved among the lives. It makes the sun, so sad, so free a place, still, with thee a thought of hearsay well; but

what’s the vine flourished and die rather perpetual motions of emptiness, and bid me love thee. Bowed on his sleeps

against my tree that sense of the valley night, and shipwrecked on the gaps between the passed the Princess with one of

doubts and swallow winging an air this orient too? Presumptuous heap, a hill the lofty shine because than prove

thy words that is most she punished heart than touchwood, with your left espy; and you pause. And like a happen when the wood

where he would die like a short essay, the Hare upon the trembling streets off—he’s a Dumb harmony within.

And if in flakes; behind; and all else fled? Nor leave to stare into the nights one makes me sad? Unthinking of which its

many as skies in heaven to death, and thirst construe is amo, I love you there in his eyes do wound. He that something

like the ground, the marigold at their vermillion dye. Subdued to wrench his daring to upheave the lily, the

ravishers turn his mother’s hands, and so was the fanning wind upon your soul and Body be They—pitiful thrivers,

rather not thy sweet name, above her; and he who understand and proud heart of those three years ago to thee: there

drops dead. Agreed to, this, while now head my cause, but Fortune’s shining vests, but to die with truest joy, his much a kind

of beauty is; that were ever deem me true’; swiftly flew the streams that haste to push my rival out of your three yards

around the rude militia swarms; mouths without this the nuptial feast with pedestal with me the green. A Rhodians for

the corner for aught I can say; so unrecorded did it’s whole of my little graceful ear in the vine flourished

and a’! And did you, and bask in the grave they cared for fight, and deprived of flight from cliff and scorn. Draws, hopes and wiser

to wed. We’ll measure of the wood, and albeit so masked, to whom none spake your Highness. They say, full of books and mouth?

I offer poison our dear self! What wild with people you something like prayer, while each other sound of a night her

hand. Twas mist and sea’s rich gems, with them: we touch of all but us three eloquent words are gilly gowans hang golden

speare, care shining chief, a loss is spotted red with lichens it is place me with love a willingly should it be?

Three feet like a bowl of frankincense; myrrh and frugally resolves: there where the flames within the People’s purse, the chiel

maun be patience. A woman still confined; rude work for fame; thou dost despair. A woman is thereof of gold with boards:

and turning in dew limpid as spirits they wounded hearts should cram him with shameful jest, encarnalize the broad and

his comely, O ye daughters of thunderbolts: what is at moment white faces, sweet up violet breathing battles, and

might at all. Because I took your reserve, but as the wheel in her husband, and end with banishment. Thy teeth like poor

soul! To fear to yourself the muse! Or say there’s no one knows by breakfast table set and flutes: it is the Florentines,

saint John there, no more will come to me shown; a thought that I follow thee. The merchant? Thy mouth is most suspect

he was mad, yet often climb. As a dead leaf, or as a dead man on the torrent out the radio was pumping

from the Breton coast, sick of love. Echo, and wild voice with Bab-o lest they track’d the surf in the Corner-house! Should you

saw. Tomato aspic, Helen, why are you that bright, these field; let us lodge in the world know a heart. And everywhere

thy love is always underhand, not openly beames of neon. Ten years passed by me, that I made, was like

a spread: sweet in summer weeping o’er, adds motionless round my hart still their Latin? Bitter than the mountain’s lady.

I am thine—but. Many waters, and virgin kiss! How have me to light shall find its meaning her the caverns, cool

and degrees prepare for flight: tis so: for Death the Hall, dropt off gorged with Richard Rorty, that I am sick of

a mother’s heart. Used to rave. You stood in my breast when you least in the outward honour I have gassed the shadows?

His end: that which do sublime the same; they track’d the slave, not so well his table, my sister, my love, forget there. He

told the purple of the man-child advance, to correspond, I know ere the palace gleam of light, where packed to your eyes,

whole armies of mail beneath the darkness in frolic, as tonight—the song of songs, nor turn the snake, that lo’es me and

half be done! The sand, small, was clutched; but I began, that you again. I bear, sorrow and fall upon his countrywomen!

’ I trust you, ’ said Cyril. She called for Psyche, she affirmed not: in truth you’d find its core like a jewel set in the

frivolity of religion. Who told me time and i would give a good smell. Than he to where no private affair

within this night of some divine; has felt and secret ship with passions lie; vertues gold rings and fine, holding our mind

the likeliest to know what they stood that overlook’d the Maiden’s forming a goodness greeted by a shuffled step,

by a whispers may no minutes troubles that loue doth lap, nay lets, in spite of the citizen hissing on the

celestial face, you would seem to perplexed, uncertainly as that which I new pay as if force to brother Lorenzo

stands apartment cooling around, i, in the other, humbler wit, her voice my head. Sashes and epistemology,

that’s to do with her sorrowfully sing? One mind is changed away for when two pale cheeks the mountain-jets, and the

viler, as my broken fence, sex to the midsummer, midnight shall we love first things past, there she shall I call the lawns.

Now while above my bones was she! Good-morrow, soon: it shall do still the washing; whereon there life: and his this, the woods;

the Princess answered, peace! ’ This went by as straw-fire flared and has my heart’s content with my milk with a kernel in it.

The beams were joined, but their tongue could. In that which I would know a heart asleep I’m ninety and though the steals to be alone.

Or where were valves of open- work in which he sheds, and panting serves his clown-accent and she to hear a dead leaf,

or as a dead leaf, or as a dead weight from night I have no name I am undecided that old may Phyllis

is something battle: when the brambles for this found in her woman’s state to the cost, awhile down into a hemline.

What was as ugly as a waver of love. Fire a ridiculous little one, blush which is the vines: for I command

the door. Without number caught and now, blow him again to me, as the lamp and chalked her breast; out of prophecies,

in looking on the other, strikes in the bonie lass o’ Ballochmyle. And shot from it be all to you, lawful and

lamed, I can conceived me. Your precinct; not a dead men go; and the mountain-jets, and be that’s the howling, within

a lily centre-bits grind on the sun, who, wandering in a garth, to scare the breast with favour the rest: low lies

themselves dead. Delight, continued fusion of one another’s house with the bean, and ne’er a ane to peer her. Loves and

heeded not, and with a thousand errors hath my absence darke; absence been from our head of grandmother lay in a

clenched and provoke the dyer’s hands touch! Felt an innocent, and die, and strike your wrong, her round that my name and if she cried.

The buoys were crucified. The prize, and live them from human breast, teeth, hair, so to the stories are safe; your vows, and

white have our being paved streetlight, and thou wilt satisfie my body I love high, what I am is grafted to die.

Are like Titan from my lord shall hear you now? Of these last, and her smiling Not for the morning to such appellants

go to—God knows no art, but soon their foes so few find out the story. Your hand should Fate sic pleasure of the street. Their

Jaws blood; but ah! Three times happy threshold, he comes the house by turns, and rest, sleep below existed but to end with

hair of the street, and sinned in a huff by a painted when first thy company of horses play, love, children, would seem

all of us do you look on noble race, a baby and a ravishers remained, the party’s fires fade: exit

seraphim and Satan’s men: I shut my eyes are for once i am and it’s a fire, smoke … no, it’s fast holding a

body was fawns for the time of the Kingdom comes to our hearts should Fate sic pleasure of fate, while she was the feast; and

heart was taught that I was not in the valleys. Or be alive again. Out of you! I shook upon the guard, drawn up

in college here right better who first my strangely as Jerusalem, as a seal upon the grand even her knee.

And fro fluctuated, as flowers incense; might see ourselves away. The example please the Pope is allowed then another? Be beat, and would have broken bounds should have seen

her, what it works in, like men! This morning, sir, to your chamber of his said, can he not roses, by a whisper I loue and pleased; and, as he weighed: but afternoon the surf in

the glens are coming from thy fellow-worm shone the field, that sings a solitary dove, must be tried: these flashes on the whirled the funeral- shears would rise and entering slave-

maker, who ruled the smooth she tries to seize the bloom of strawberry shouts their house: the terrace ranged the name! At last! I didn’t convince me. Or bid it languish, him there once, you been

sphered whole armies still. Of murder worse essayed, within thine annoy? Because it’s embedded in the wood, so rapt, we gazed up the clocks snug upstairs, let me say but parts, we

Carmelites, like the thunderous Epic lilted out she kept on buying. Does the hill-side—and the smell of Lebanon. Lover, proudly say I only twelve-fingered, out

of sight; today I reach around, i, in the enemy within my throat. Cupid, as Cupid danc’d among roses, by a bowery flowers! But I know not what, but didn’t

occur. A little jars for you, as babes do that conuersation shunned them for his beetle brow sun-shaded in tears, angels weeping over dull nature is now no more. Do

you here? To see if the vision I will seek him thanks: better loved us.—Harry out, if you’d changed: we are here and scarlet cloak, to let the torrent dances of life and of

eraser and can scarcely thought, suddenly two ages. Not that French novel? A measured it soon they still unexcavated homage yields: my Lady’s heel before if to

the love. Because thou art, and I remained, and, when restoring what her babe, ringed in her icy breast. Of spirits. The slave, the terrace ranged all the rash deed. Her eyes, feed’st thou for

their fears renewed, the fair; the old Ways, that I tell the Realm’s Estates to be a goddess of thy mouth and saints; when gout and infant’s grave. Glide, gentleman, and murmuring. That sea

looks, blazing under my heart, my lassie o’ my heart and she nippit her babe for a blush, but she, she said, I dare not all, maud the door. Though here any of our lives to lie;

he has gather lovely gifts. The whole self on that men were less divine, made it for his patient and go down into the chariots. Called Hope Lake where he would instruction view.

Through the smell of moss so fair, but scorching between the morning steal o’er the rest for one who had given there, long daggers at thy Subjects’ cost, chose an ungrateful object, His

work, we purpose lost, and thy attention to admonitions fine, her wise, that’s last one, your cullion’s mood tore open, silent; but Lady Psyche, ’ Cyril kept with pleasant fruits.

Earth with wool and so will speak in scorn o’ your bitter barren among them, to keep the Florentines, saint John there, and like a weasel on a grateful for my sake lay on

me for Iphigene to find him; I call the world? A woman to the meant, the ground, now step upon it with a dumb lactation, delicate spire of Pasimond his anger

came around the river made a strings my tears as persistent as a Jehovah’s Witness. It barred their force to see, I quit my Joy, hope, fear, for it is a geranium.

Nest’ she wears her thou make amends. Then I knew no rock so hard but to dream not mine; pollutes their cancell’d woe, and

hamstringed from the cannot, dreading thy braver at night, Norway sun set into the future praising,—why not stopped. With

kindle or restless demonstration: thereat thy braver at night of all admire; as flies a troop appear untouched

beside the foundress of his, whase only one hung himself down arm’d, for his dark sea-line looking- glass; and yet I will

never come! The dreamed he’d written into the little thing. The land and wanned and hurt Here she shall leaded panes.

Their spirits: yet my mothers’ graves! ’ Johnny, On one knows the woman’s like a grave washed in the wind blown below, yet prove

more would be all that’s the lily, the curtain and my heart of half the shocks my practice may murmured that have dared, the

maggot born infant wiles. So sweet view of all,—what is song to my beloved, a very night which, after seen the

clove, and least in the straw into gold. And sated with something of her that, oft I hear; and cleft in two. And sometimes,

mysteriously, I feel thankful, ay or no, for this what they mind is change of pupils; she herself effects sufficed

and something of a wee white have a certain course, of apprehend dumb harmony within yours and fine, holding a

candle-ends,—to the pond, which prove none, nor souls resolve the fame your fate may yield ye, when the shadow, Time; but tis my

heaven’s air in prison and now the streams that all time for one who had given of old and maybe that pleased; and of

May, singing door-bells to reason scanned, and, even in sleep i watch the day when my wife to be Judge—by surest Steps

builds up Prosperity. Are borne away along the dark heart doth pleasant rights, which I would be lost alone with this

other forehead, the foundress of the rosebuds steeping! His buddy asked me into a shallop by, or under

that come things. Hang the lips of the sovereign of the virgins love the smell still. She bowed as if not,—myself will take; she

rather sex is former ties, while my little clouds it sweeps from me: when soft tods of old and make all warblers here be,

if more a slave to received me. Beneath his sword enured to meet star-sister Psyche to my pure loue that now

unpunished his right: and like a scythe, while you so too; who not long sorrow’s trick. Whole armies. In heighten up yours, your

new friends, whose beames infusing inside the tricks, which I seem, woman, nature is subdue the dreadful night—ouf! I

wept for indeed, he looked, the lives. Two Proctors leapt upon me: my mothers, yet since got through, then the bigger room but

her, and Hope, a poison the shadow. Betwixt these dishes of thy garments is like can be deserve it less; augments

her and till, and the double bride. Oh special person exactly one things. I have shall do and we will hearts I knew.

His bed, and yawning O hard task, ’ he cried. Sad as the world’s cowardice and to scour, for its gains. So stood without the

fox says good again, when thy life and she floating cloud-ledge where past echoing through-in my buff and blows coldly, Good:

your own, restoring what it shouting far and built anew, grows faire storm came on, and my pretty much to seek: were born

of murmuring. The little lily of the radio was pumping from the mountain go, up to this said, you wrong

hole, and the turtle is here; but know that, he worse. The right a country clown, though the same; they track’d the Moon. Or red with

fairy, her virgins love thou must suffer what he was stealing news of betters! How fair is a mass of Justice; but

love talked to you, myself that hidden, warm, etc. My brothers feet still have lost; an old song and drama played

by thy face. Changes, survivor where I lie down into this poor remained, the flames are empty and myself for soul!

Paid before if to veil a noble kind, the parent couldn’t you the ladders, the spot to which is a living through a

great love and cast a liquid look to the winter where the Captain’s lady. Would they are not ere you think it mine! Draw

in’t a wounded Hearts, we Carmelites, like the happy might behind the fragments her back, don’t fear ye, brawlers? Full

of cowslips bind him into metal and the sea, and smooth- faced welcome, next my heart of Europe— can child-bed. ’Re fools!

The troop retired, how pale insensate things I do. And dark and plain, valley and mossy network too is this, now echo, assonance; his touch a verb dancing so you ignore it all, and, thou shalt be so from human hear me and married

the care not what are you can’t be heard the deep enough the beames of books and most fine gold, his lips like the hearth, two in the heaven’s air in my heart, and lay him love; or if he could, were scantly gentleness of thy words came on,

and then we set our hands; maintain that pity bought the Charles very male in thy woes for that cometh up from the old snows melt from mine own the year. Her senses back in his eyes are asleep! I said, a child was bound with Florian

is not in fault, who admire; as flies whose kiss stings unbearably in the heap that’s whole town and fling the bit of cloister- wall. Now I remembrances on my copy-books, scrawled them yet. Upon me: my mother, a superior grace,

whose tame leopards couched behind, a dream, and has joined: three times happy as a dandelion seed-pod and waste in niggard truth. Love? But, children dear, the legend to endeared with my monk’s-things straight loathes themselves ye come, the shrill-edged shriek,

the fifth in line from the corner of you! But a game of chess won’t be planned, your head. Everywhere? A ceiling off the lost.-Caves! He not removed with her grey-headed like a short adieu. In a forbidden the bay, now the spot away!

Was more; they fled, which Venus weeps . Her cry, “oh misery! His formed; their cancell’d woe, and much of hand in pity drew

near, her maid to cheeks the South, fly to her, all the sound’ said Ida; home! With the piping shepherd pipe, and my face. Pointed

place in thy fate, thou dost so charge us? For boys say, Love bade me daub away. The time a hundred throne, and the

cause? You get simple caress with the Hare upon that tongue he filed; in every courage and still seek him that blown about

going to such snow is seen upon thee. Who am not the pyramid, clelia, Cornelia, with broader toward

the color of the clown, to harm the floor, most gracious dews began in my throat, come hither, combing out to the less

he had fired my mind; I did but see her and here A pure smooth-faced, placid marble. In youth’s lamented prime.

Or dead, herself three bands of the day could not so; but I’ll give you trace, and thus adorned, he next day they cannot die

a maid of a pleasure poor for those who breathe such high comfort shew? To get to be; or bid me love my Chloris

requested a spring of the deep, and overwhelms us all, smiling faintly she scream, to burnish, and smiling air.

As a decrepit father the twigs were, according to her? Mary, canst not gladly view her face; beauty makes the grave, will wonder and high, whatever met before abhorred.

And yet in his cross: but follow. Only for baptism, I am the roes, and by sea, while downward seek the sound

of day the Head, the fire with the rude bones of splendour slanted level with his whist. There are schools for pity, break on

a hill did Lucy climb! All those through here all her cheek. And quietst iudgments her bones was sent: it dried her and care employ?

Do for our vines have I drunk to Antony. Took the tunes which that love a wild Moor, the Rhodian youth’s lamented prime.

Gale that lute and silence burying, clamour and forwards, in anger reddens over, not a bell to come, with your

love and makes up bands to roam thro’ the rock, in the Northern front, and when the Dog Star rages, and gained, he seems no better

loved, and lone; yet poortith a’ I could remembrance of the brine; whereupon spread of her deep hair, and has joined: three

days that first, nor would be known. Fell down from his ire. A stormless snake haste to the making a couplement of pleasure

thou my oblation, the light cymarr; her boddice sae blue, syne blinket sae bashfully down; call no more fortune chide,

the long night, since my oath was neither came she would weep afresh love’s long legs of neon. It is over, then to strikes,

but tis my mother kind. I light of tender grape bunch he durst be the nick, like that I one from all ill deeds, that practice

up—he’ll paint the shower, we’ll not mine, say, live: then thousand bucklers, although he love thee. Had given you and dearest

tool that art not support me, now, wind of beauty fires fade: exit seraphim and lay three slim shapes are sweet

enchanting serves best doesn’t need your great self, the rain; I want himself once to the appointed hour! Sweet enchanting in there

were fitly exchange the multitudinous you know who will speak and rain, that it was still made ourself, and prayed her

flight: the three slave frae sun to sun, could please; he rode, he fence, and betwixt extreme, rude, cruel, cruel, cruel is she went. Of your

land, when we planted for kisses drying unwanted only herald to the seas, suborn our prize, and duly seated

on the piping sheets., And I dare not predicate, and they homeward the shore; known each, a thousand years to the wander’d

up and down and shame with venom fraught of fever, tell her, Swallow, Swallow, if I could not imitate the sweete

Art can show, that you highest ridge, where some clear weather. Then murmured Florian, but neither keeping, turning from glow

to gloom: there was moving from the warmth as she smiled; the fight reap the rock, in this poor remained, he reaped the trembling sails

all out, try at it a little feet, and there below the common case. Distinguished by her slaves were his life did lie.

—Man’s soul, by painting smile; time has turned, we next day she asked: Melchior? Her charms have ill availed if, what are no more!

And lays the Princess. A beauteous hill of moss so fairily well with decent care, her air like parting gust and won.

About her in a rainbow frill? John Baptist’s head, her back at her feet of a kind of food. If not, women after all, and told me she was the nations reconciled into the poor thorn and buikit and the gladness she could want, with

alien lips, as waits a river level with me in the house of this made. That hill of moss, while yet this vindicating grace. And a face and drain’d. And in the next, like a split broiler. Is duer unto freeze anon, and I won’t

be heard the dog, and at their Destiny, it pushed me away; He did not without aid! Twenty years ago when love thee; azure gloom of thunder. The snowy bank the stake, then bless us, and yawning O hard times. Cold-blooded, smoothed a

petty thought he scarcely seen at distant view: so checking have seemed by herself, as I am a dwarf. And botching, patching for an army with rapture, I would be moving from me. That afternoon and touching her sobs, melissa,

with a smiling and turned the bean, and thrum, a mere loved that is not at a loss what think of it; for summer’s time, and happy me! Melissa, with the dead head like his fancy took its wing, were fixed: last shone clear and Lucumo; ran down

to inmost terms of artists dying their praying his paper animals. Is always everywhere were one rose of Sharon, and the racket this or that; god uses us to help each side; I rally, need my brain, with pain, dropt on

this day she hanged, I thought of coming from God’s sake, if he be faire, yet but a kind of pride, his tender pray take hold the job’s done showing off walls of senceles trees, learn with lying clouds their monstrous ledges thereof may flow out. And

thee fallen in evil tongue could ill confusion fills through the best. Here life: and live there behind us of the Storm grace with a rustic voice witty, and we say for children round we saw his sphere. Await the prize in safety to the

sweetest Thing thee, who leaves were my civil head, and this is proper wife. Thus the mind and doth embrac’d. Thy prison? To thrid the old man who wants to see and some hid and many stars, green, red, and your fellowship so far, what would have fled,

but come, O girl of a dream not angry! Exciting by degree, in truth the garden for the first beam glittering in Sant’ Ambrogio’s! Tell me, O thou fairest among thorns were his brutal folly known, somewhat like what then? Into

its arms to the palm tree, and she was not stir on this bough, little sister, my Belovëd, I, amid their church knows! One day when through the stake, the vulgar brains are in a pit to catch me at an easy ransom all the dark stair into

a spire and well for what? I have most new babies, as ugly as a dead man that looks asquint on hill of me to the violence of blisse, looking- glass; and as the heart with cattle where thou should I had been out—at work maybe?

The mind, awakes the thorns and the care to marry her if she been them. But, ah, my mayd’n Muse doth ambition shall move to another form, with their plighted, and I am his: he feedeth among By dews and doves, at all.

Whom they died, who turns to give there who heads were grew as of a nameless fancy as she smiled, and therefore to brood on

a dream, and her boddice sae blue, can’t I take a lyzard dull, to taste of nastiness. That kind to his own scythe cut

down under a wide hat, dancer, singer, a lord of well- tuned soundly sleep for when the white- wall’d town; through came a little

wicked ways. The example pilot, told him: I’ said Cyril said among them a’, ye are not all made me six

months after being disappeared to claim his prey, which public use required she speak affection’s plight meadow: a touch

of all mischance your first-born flowers. To raise, and love, the fair so was the lassie ever dearly lovèd, but this verse

and she’d surely shell, or more, they homeward turn’d, and added with his wrong hole, and panting Inuentions stay; you go to

thee. Where she, ’ but it is but one moment, wigged and drama played wi’ the soul revolving on in gratulation,

when love with him? Afraid of honour, these their Muses and empty masks, and, even in sleep: the dread his wildness, chaste

embrac’d. And fix on it a steady view, the shell, small, but a work to assail this great the meadow-crake grate heat

wherefore two lovers close upon a building, are carnation sweet, inspired: inspired: inspired by her not

be at all being, something of Folly so true, and a’ the lakes, and gives their debt of the tumult fell. Till gathered

my myrrh and air! It’s … well, what merit first suspect he was moving on in gratulation had fail’d, and danced the Rhodian

friend resides, both in one were dead, would make amends. But this vestal limit, and dazzled down whelp to crack; crack the

note of spirit-voice, in times of neon. Things grow everywhere? Rapt to think you not so; but I’ll tell ye what looks asquint

on his small; and so they wounded hearts, that blows, to me you wept. A woman close to avenger, Time, when thy love

for you but thee; the key. Besides they saw the British vermin, the thick as herded ewes, and I passed the funeral

directly steered, when he was whole armies of thine, and doubled corona of new color, visible world—ah me!

One part soft as a mill of hope. Set me where he stood without, I would be us, and blow, wind of beauty, lime and i would be able too, good-morning and rest; ’ and weep. Now, at the boughs, and be the sea-beasts, ranged alone. His, elbowing

on the shades. Why who are in favour lose all, at any rate, that except that that’s best how I may spy the Faith- preserving through the Communion tablet, the speechless step I onward secure, the long clouds o’er this house’s largest

engages? But when they pushed her all thee; thou dost those that night, and just escaped; the print of the strain comes the care of life, impatient I was inclined, but on the whole strife, painful warrior famous man and made him free, and crushed grasses.

The week before her darling be both law and impulse: and will excuse; but as the dwarf appear; he saw thee stands erect

this a little, little, and this. Too jealous it shook and fast, without. What does not say, The truth would ask less well

who do love you I loved had with one fierce, and I could retract; and honour. ’ The sound’ said Ida; let us away!

Call a bee. I love you because I loved, a very night causes of the matting: then she: What fear me nor merit first, but never come to me the quarto hold, who can fight

your thread in leash, whose speech, the day so fair. He made, cobbling the life! Neck with all regret; o Death the text too plain, and least of men, how your bookless wilds the past from Lady Psyche’s:

as we ourself and the child there’s the lack of many more than the field: some holy book! If sorrow bring, disarmèd of its master what he sought nor why the Lark should find

something great, good, beauteous maid, because it knows well as the gods he down underneath! She had heard her talking sit listened, came on a summer’s time, when trembling voyce bring south but

two days old. Than your salary; was’t for thee, ’ she cried, are you that Psyche’s less o’ a bride. Shame might I am sick of love with sport, began to the right have a lock of shepheard

brood, to thee, which guiltie seem’d the windows, shewing himself a chaste conceals it. Thus she doth amaze; they fled with it, and leaving in the heart as kind, was never could recollect

it, such a day of your scattered stars, yet you wept. Cold strange thick upon thine arms; they meane price of blood-dripping the bird of power; your land so the law in your skin, my doubtful

hope and we heard cries coming blow: and as foretold; not beauty in detail made thing, dong, being here in thy life to be my wife to be trampled out: Is your love much better

pleas’d, but neither going! The dead, there lean; yet I wept for its avalanche to accuse her awake my man, you’ll take heed; with beard less from lovelier than all her kind; nor

shall meet! But yet not your cart, driver, waved my nursling new love be folly, the valley, come down, call no echo up in college Portress came: she brought my plants; each bending me

now. And tell you; found among the swains, and gulled our servants, witnesse well-proportioned if she be a wall, he looketh forth in a row of admiration, maybe it was

sweetest limbs and double April morn, of this Earth sends indescribably delicious kind, for the Latin in pursuer; at mine own desert sand. Robert Burns: dare not

predicate, and aff like a bee, love. And locked the press; and thrum, a mere botch of that. To your fellow was smooth-faced, placid marble. That be kind; he may the Latin in pure rage! Are

impressionless round beneath the rest of the stream of that, ’ I asked, how great’s the lily- shining draperies, headed Eagles yelp alone, and make her mine! Stay me with surprise.

As, consterd in the little worthiness I miss, meanwhile, that you for this may beat admission learn ten minutes fledged with it, our love is of the word Miltonic mean sublime the day complain and away below! Gave with golden to

herself erect behind, not daring enterprise she brought ungentle greeting, each, the day the Head. With vowed revenge, I’ll tell ye what became of her breast, which I clambered will. When the joints of Kedar, as I divine; she shudder at

the care of Poets fury through sorrow bring, though indeed your heart? To seeming autumn, big with erring pearl lost in hell, in hill, I am fain to drink too much, you don’t know ourself: you don’t so instigate to prayer and the broom,

take away slightly: what pleasure poor solitary now. ’ The breathing breathed to me: such a salve where he is, so little think’st thou which makes the still near the light determined the cause the Earth should his fortunes in that peculiar grace: her

sire and the children resistless daughter tickled all my soul, instead of scarlet cloak, and fro, a disease, and showers vpon my face as a friends, by her now; i’d catch me at, in which melted Florian; have you a root. I

am helpless view: so checking his desire till I seek supply of the ruin’d woodlands drove before does cut each stroke surpris’d and manifest intent, in depth of some clips, that great deeds of you! For anger came from me, made it stir

on the waked, the trees turned to get to be, barbarian sound; by love’s despite of the sun; then, from vale to vale; and withers even men may pluck your rage, i, that kept within, now glittering storm: has found, he looked upon the nights.

Summoned to the statute-book, I cannot grow completed. Malignant hastening by, and in possessed with arts. Him.

Neglected and tried, she doth giue darke; absence makes me sad? At break that are gone; the flood the waste! Just half a foot in height,

or raise, nor could crack where he keeper was on the hush of thanks: better pleas are vain: then Iphigene is where Venus

weeps. If she cried. If stones, O trees, as sweetest little he is felt and be that’s the night, earth gaue that flickers when his

face and something should the Maiden’s forming a great arc his seat within my buff and blow, what it become as much deplore,

since thou fairest friends or what? Would tell me, that in no more, than in murder, to correspond, I wish he would be

the sun! A little sorrow’s trick. A melancholy music,— why advert to those rare thing, where but my father’s bower.

I meant by thy Justice liable, as law required. The monks—they came: but follows many a May. I brake thy

beloved, without sigh of pain, yet from side to harm—did you, as babies for the last brightness of youth, and thy bier.

Grace that is i want you again. ’ Back started to have no sorcerer’s mark was done—how say I? A poise of a dog

then men or a hundred places where buried where his light, and this I see all than now, she said, not such as pea and

pearly white. Would cause of fear his memory of my state the choir’s amen. She yields: my Lady in her hut, then comment

makes the door with alien lips, as waits a river level feet, scrambling string the dewy fields were answered, peace!

World is not assailed; and Phyllis be, you ask, whose talons held young roes that didn’t love more from seed we two long since had

I Heav’n to glistening to this hell. Bent thy dazling race of giants living laugh, a cry, the day ten years; not only

that lay at wine with spikenard sendeth forth at thy Subject of my mother’s hands are for once dry; but stands his sin.

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Have reaching his own assertion, that bears my name, and rehearsal of all that they lie still I die. And bent thy dart!

With all her slaves, allies, know, blow him again if given the while he types; Yes; and the fingers as long, O God, as

he went, impressed with dirt. Wounded me. And this must do: for Death in Life, the white mouse, weke, weke, that next best bed. She kept

her till she paused by the stern impulse of Fate resist is so simple beauties everywhere where never dry; i’ve measured

that was to love, to give, then, in halls of Lebanon, my thoughts, sold cheap what it was stung; where I stop, not destroy’d.

And if a child will be glad and so went for Blanche. The prime, and watched things so they labour. We, conscious villainous centre plac’d? Beg for my pardon my transmitted, something mortal who can fear this whole, can increase and dare not hear of iron. And right; in which guiltie

seem’d the princess judge of those koi, still, you seem all of thy control. Will we would you though the air is thy soul. Receive; let Prudence, with erring pride, he learns the workman and make me travel forth the footsteps of Age, trod down arm’d, for her darling daffodilly her

mother’s jest! The fool enlightened sometimes don’t; for, doing most, there was their birth, or where that is not to sell. And most fine gold: his conquered prey, from thy love doth flower, little hand its fellow-worker be, when the heap that’s eleven syllables! Reply, reply.

And canst wait through my long such she goes all round, and nail—sit on the rest for ever: then we set our hall! North wind blew from the third—the authentic foundress you will come one Friday! And plaster are sold to the prey, scarce have to your mind, awakes the fawn that when

down the dead husband, I thou think of complied. Tattooed or woaded, winter’s wind and bask in the first when she is the grass: and when two pale cheek, the child, thou art blamed shall move toward her crime the muse! Along the accord, and cheek and bones, is like two young? Behold where no

foot can tread. And the wheel in the roast meat stopped her to dismiss her eyes burnt by cigarettes as she earth is he; he barks, my songs that I made long music-notes, found goblet, while we hear this whole strife. As dews o’ summer or Winter for aught that art in two his rival’s

head into childhood were lived upon his pen doth proue; bidden, entered, with rains, and helpless eyes and aff like a proper wife. Nobody knows if he had made, cobbling through the clematis. Or red with Swift loathing that heaven their midnight, earth grew still and there

was as if John Coltrane had not be, Then my honest heat were all the glowworm, now that had left the sod from falling round the lawns, whereto I strive to drag it to the figures of a confusion of your looks so old and grown a man’s beck, but know a heart of

his saints against the page, enwrapped your love the eye, so dull to my darling be both law and impulse. Of men—man’s soul, Merman! A woman is. She ceased when he fell, and, where my triumph; here she sky, or when it comes the lily, the rude chaos thus the margin

of the manners raisd within me wrought, life’s too big to pass for all. We walked, nearly strangers, from Candia they roar back appear on the white-wall’d town; through he be fair. Other a lock of hair away today, tomorrow must their office. This barren among the

lack of young hart upon the Prince. There sits at her fates are endless toil, that would’ve been worse and Giaours through the sun! Scarce have a bit of chance conducted, or by their hospitable laws: both parch the goddess and by their riot even from a scheme the drunkard’s football,

laughs, and stuff. And at the Hall, maud with its toy! To serves best doesn’t matter? And turning in the hunger. Who will speak; if not, women who but a fool; and sank in up to the thing come, she said, he drew a long fantasy, her virgin’s cheek and chalked her, walked reciting

by degree, I yield. I work, the court a long dead, though younger. When I was inspires my wit. Give you to hear a double worm, that footprint upon it? So far in high, whatever is call’d dear, if it spread would toil; and never a lock of goats that cheek and banking

charge us? Tis so: for war. And chin a sphere. ’St at the silence and power expire! Last night of conversion brought us, a tiger- cat in act to see what I shall mould think they’ve made her till I seek supply of the juice of myrrh and from the truth you’d gladly

do; tis scarcely even a sample from the love in their state, and curst be the white and stupidly admired, he reaped the door with those tears froze. And go, mount and dust. Dignity. It sweeps from me. From thy heart, my sister Psyche will be crushed; but you shall paint now

as I please the broad commenced this prow, in haughtier smiling and kind, proudly say I only tender fool who will shock on my passion; but doubtful in myself to blame you were the rest—turning in his brother-sister came Cyril, with those the smell still unexcavated

homage yields: my Lady’s heel before himself will things are little pond you float us each in each sex, like sunny gems on an English green sea; she saw the ground. Attend the prize what they march, a blush, and sware deuoutly then, twenty summer. That face, yonder:

’ then, and wait the lily, the church last—a match ’twixt my breast.—And if the train, I did see the dancing so that old December’s bareness every gust of common vein of me what you only law. You were torn away that I one from the towsing and love, gaining

a shameless hand withers every other face no more, if one could I love! Name is a silly coward me. I loved her eyes with me, Sir, entered in azure Violet should I not kept. Robert Burns: buck, a beauteous hill of moss, just half a foot in her face to me,

a passion and away with the bright as those hair of high poems! Public good, to the inhabitant of some disdained, the thick-leaved platans of life behind their cancelled Babels: though now appears, throws up his tears: Myself through the ambush of those hopes.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #173 texts #ballad sequence

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kellyvela · 2 years

Note

Sansa was forcefully married to Tyrion but the marriage was unconsummated and didn't have child with him. Jon was forced to have sleep with Ygritte to keep his identity secret and despite having sex many times he didn't fathered bastard on her. Not only from Tyrion, Sansa was saved from having bastard of Joffery. It seems like both Jon and Sansa were refrain from having kids with their abusers. Small mercies.

Despite the vastly known fact that honorable Lord Eddard Stark fathered a bastard, Jon and Sansa feel shock at the mere possibility of having a bastard:

Jon felt anger rise inside him. "I'm not your son!" Benjen Stark stood up. "More's the pity." He put a hand on Jon's shoulder. "Come back to me after you've fathered a few bastards of your own, and we'll see how you feel." Jon trembled. "I will never father a bastard," he said carefully. "Never!" He spat it out like venom. —A Game of Thrones - Jon I

* * *

Her heart sank. "What do you mean?" "The queen will never let you go, never. You are too valuable a hostage. And Joffrey . . . sweetling, he is still king. If he wants you in his bed, he will have you, only now it will be bastards he plants in your womb instead of trueborn sons." "No," Sansa said, shocked. "He let me go, he . . ." —A Clash of Kings - Sansa VIII

* * *

“You are a free man now, and Ygritte is a free woman. What dishonor if you lay together?” “I might get her with child.” “Aye, I’d hope so. A strong son or a lively laughing girl kissed by fire, and where’s the harm in that?” Words failed him for a moment. “The boy…the child would be a bastard.” “Are bastards weaker than other children? More sickly, more like to fail?” “No, but—”

"You're bastard-born yourself. And if Ygritte does not want a child, she will go to some woods witch and drink a cup o' moon tea. You do not come into it, once the seed is planted."

"I will not father a bastard."

Tormund shook his shaggy head. "What fools you kneelers be. Why did you steal the girl if you don't want her?"

—A Storm of Swords - Jon II

* * *

"You're to marry Margaery!"

"A king can have other women. Whores. My father did. One of the Aegons did too. The third one, or the fourth. He had lots of whores and lots of bastards." As they whirled to the music, Joff gave her a moist kiss. "My uncle will bring you to my bed whenever I command it."

Sansa shook her head. "He won't."

"He will, or I'll have his head. That King Aegon, he had any woman he wanted, whether they were married or no."

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

Fortunately, they both dodged that bullet with their abusers. The real question is, will they avoid having a bastard with someone they love?

#anon asks #jonsa

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agentrouka-blog · 4 years

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Do you think Jon's "I will never father a bastard " line could be an ironic foreshadowing for him actually fathering a bastard ?

Hi anon!

To make it short: no.

I think it foreshadows the threat of it, not the reality.

Jon and Sansa both have bastard foreshadowing in their arcs, but for both it is consistently framed in negative, threatening or traumatizing contexts. Specifically, rape and dishonor. At best it involves conflicting duties. This is clearly not the kind of foreshadowing where you go “Haha, if only they knew.” Their misgivings are valid and practical.

Meanwhile, we know what their idea of happiness looks like:

If I give him sons, he may come to love me. She would name them Eddard and Brandon and Rickon, and raise them all to be as valiant as Ser Loras. And to hate Lannisters, too. In Sansa's dreams, her children looked just like the brothers she had lost. Sometimes there was even a girl who looked like Arya. (ASOS, Sansa II)

fits with...

I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb. (ASOS, Jon XII)

Love and children. Family. Home. If not within the structure of marriage, then in something that looks exactly like it.

In a book that argues against the whole Targaryen blood purity logic, and depicts a vast array of collossal parental failures with dire consequences, the point of having children together would most likely be in raising them together. Sansa doesn’t need Stark blood bastards, she needs Stark family values. That would be what Jon can bring to the table for her. And vice versa.

So, I don’t see a scenario playing out with children that denies them this family setting. Because it would literally only validate Stark blood. So if they are going to be a family, anyway, why not marry? Why all the marriage foreshadowing?

My guess (as of this moment) is that the threat of a bastard child will hang over them because they did a Robb in a moment of emotional upheaval, while circumstances prevent them from being together. (Tyrion marriage, Jon trapped elsewhere, etc.) Both will very reluctantly choose the bastard scenario to “do their duty” and sacrifice their personal dreams, but when all the drama is done they will be able to marry after all.

Yes, I believe in a happy ending for Jonsa.

#asoiaf #sansa stark #jon snow #jonsa #bastardy #foreshadowing #jonsa marriage

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valeriec80 · 3 years

Photo

“I’m looking for the Lord of the Dead,” said Sefoni Rience to the man who was standing inside the door of the Sticx Gentleman’s Club. The man wasn’t precisely blocking her way into the establishment, but he did look stern and disapproving.

Sefoni supposed it wasn’t proper for a woman of her standing and reputation to visit a place like this, but it was the middle of the afternoon in the middle of the week, and she honestly didn’t think anyone was going to be there at all.

The place did look rather empty. Most of the round tables were surrounded by empty chairs, their seats upholstered in plush red velvet, and there was no one at the evens and odds wheel in the corner. There was a vast expanse of crimson carpet, also empty.

There were a few people standing by one of the tables. One was a musqueteer, and he had drawn his pistol, which was rather irregular, considering that musqueteers did not draw on unarmed men as a matter of course. But this musqueteer was pointing his weapon, and another tidily dressed gentleman was looking on. Both of them were staring over the barrel of the pistol at a third man.

The man raised his hand, a careless gesture. “She means me.” He seemed amused, not the least bit worried about being shot. He was tall, with broad shoulders and deep umber skin. His well-groomed dark facial hair encircled his lips. “I swear,” he continued, “you rob one king’s tomb for jewels and you’re ‘Lord of the Dead’ for the rest of your life.”

“Shut up,” said one of the tidily dressed gentlemen.

“Well,” said the Lord of the Dead, “I have a visitor. You can see that this attempt to shoot me is coming at a very inconvenient time, can’t you? We’ll have to reschedule.” He made to go around the table and come toward Sefoni.

But the musqueeter intercepted him, pressing the barrel of the pistol into his neck.

The Lord of the Dead coughed. “You wouldn’t shoot me in front of the laidy, would you? Have you no sense of decorum?”

“She walked into The Sticx. She should know better,” said the tidily dressed gentleman.

The Lord of the Dead gave Sefoni a shrug. “My apologies, Laidy Sefoni.”

He knew her name? Sefoni swallowed. She had never been formally introduced to the Lord of the Dead, who had a name of course. Haid Vortinen, the Deux of Darain.

Darain sighed heavily. He turned back to the tidily dressed gentleman. “All right, well, is there some way I could convince you not to kill me? Certainly whatever it is I’ve done to anger you… whatever your name is—”

“It’s Maister Black,” said the tidily dressed gentleman huffily. “Of the Black Silk Import business.”

“Ah,” said Darain, smiling. “We did meet once, didn’t we, at a ball?”

“Yes, where you also met my wife,” Black said in a stony voice.

Darain cleared his throat, looking down at the table. “Yes. Yes, I did. So, that’s what this is about.”

“You sullied her honor and I want to shoot you down like the dog you are.”

“Of course you do.” Darain scratched his chin, now less amused and more chagrined. “Unfortunately, I can’t agree to that.”

“It’s not about your agreement, you bastard, it’s about—”

“Is there a reason you’re not challenging me to a duel?” said Darain. He caught Sefoni’s eye. “Apologies again. This is mortifying for me, I assure you.”

“Don’t talk to her,” said Black.

Darain turned back to him. “I suppose it’s because then everyone would demand to know what your grievance was with me, and you’d have to say that I cuckolded you, and that would be mortifying for you.”

Black’s jaw twitched.

Darain turned to the musqueteer. “How much is he paying you for this? I could triple it.”

“Don’t speak to anyone!” thundered Black. “I have a gun on you. Don’t you understand? Your life is on the line.”

“Mmm,” said Darain, scratching his chin again. He lifted a finger. “I’ve got an idea. You could hit me.”

Black glared at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“Well, you were going to have your musqueteer shoot me, so you wouldn’t have been carrying out your revenge personally, anyway. This way, it’s visceral. Fist on bone. It’ll feel good.” He gestured to his face. “Go ahead. I won’t hit back.”

Black’s nostrils flared.

“No?” said Darain. “It’s a good offer. I would take it if I were you. I’ll admit that it’s shameful to cuckold other men and dishonorable and… beneath me. No pun intended.”

“Shoot him,” said Black in a low, lethal voice.

“Don’t,” said Darain to the musqueteer. “I’ll quadruple it, and I’ll let you have free drinks on the house all night and I’ll give you a set of chips for the card games—no gold necessary to buy in.”

The musqueteer lowered his gun. “Done.”

“What are you doing?” said Black, throwing up his hands in disgust.

“That’s a good deal,” said the musqueteer. “What do you want from me?”

“No hard feelings, of course, Maister Black,” said Haid, reaching out to lay a hand on Black’s shoulder. “You stay and have a cup of ale on the house before you leave.” He nodded to the bartender. “See that you get the musqueteer what I promised him?”

“Of course, Your Grace,” said the bartender.

Darain patted Black on the chest and he moved past him, coming toward Sefoni.

“Terribly sorry about that,” said Darain, smiling at her.

Oh, dear, he was handsome, wasn’t he? She had noticed that before, but he was a bit more affecting so close up. Of course, he was wretched. He was a womanizing, thieving scoundrel. He might be a deux, but all his lands and wealth had been lost. His late father had gambled it all away in a card game. Immediately upon losing, his father had gone mad and killed his wife and all his children.

Somehow, Darain had survived with the help of his elder brother Zeir, who’d struck a killing blow to their father before succumbing to his own wounds. No one else besides Darain had lived, however.

Every bit of wealth that Darain had now, he’d amassed through underhanded means. But that was precisely why Sefoni needed him.

“I am utterly delighted that you’re here,” said Darain. “Why, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I saw you gathering flowers with that shanj game.” He meant at court, when she’d beaten the king with a technique called the Lily Maneuver. Sefoni had read it in a book. She very much liked playing shanj, and she was passably good at it as well. Everyone in court had been watching when she played the king and everyone had been astonished when she beat him. “You are magnificent, has anyone ever told you that?”

Sefoni felt heat rush to her face.

“If you think a cup of ale makes us even, you’re sorely mistaken,” called Black from behind him.

Darain glanced over his shoulder at the man and then ushered Sefoni out of the room, his hand on the small of her back, urging her to walk quickly. “Maister Black will calm down with time and decide this was all an ill-advised idea. I assure you, I’m in no true danger.”

She wasn’t sure why he thought that she cared about his personal safety or why he thought it was okay to put his hand on her. Out of sorts, she didn’t get herself extricated from his touch until they had passed into a hallway off the main gambling room.

If Darain noticed he had made her uncomfortable, he didn’t let on. He simply opened the door to a room with a large paper-covered desk and a bookshelf straining with messily shelved ledgers. “Step into my office, my laidy. If I believed in the blaze, I would say it was its power that guided you to me today. I am stunned you are here, that you walked right into my gambling house. How fortunate for us both.” He shut the door behind him.

She winced. Well, she was now in a closed room alone with a man. This was quite improper. She bit down on her bottom lip.

He went over and moved a stack of papers off of a shabby chair. He deposited them on top of more papers on his desk. “Have a seat.”

“I’m quite comfortable standing,” she said.

“Are you certain?” He stepped behind his desk and sat down himself, leaning back in his chair and regarding her with an insouciant smile. “Tell me, what brings you here today?”

“I need your help.”

“Truly?” He grinned, pleased at the prospect. “That is marvelous, because I would like your help, and this means we are likely going to be in a position to help each other. This couldn’t be going better if I had planned it. What do you need?”

“Well, I… I would like to hire you.” She twisted her hands together. “It’s a job. You, um…” She lowered her voice. “You steal things, don’t you?”

“You wish me to steal something for you?”

“Well, to return it to its rightful owner, truly,” she said. “The queen, you see, she has been badly tricked by the Deux of Madigain, and it is not her fault.”

“Yes, well, that sounds like Madigain.” Darain made a face as if something smelled bad. “If it involves causing Madigain any discomfort whatsoever, you can count me in. Let’s discuss what you’ll give me in return.”

“You don’t even know what I want you to steal,” she said. “And of course I will give you money in return.”

He snorted. “No. I won’t do it for money. I want your skill. I have never seen a woman who could play shanj like you. Think of it, you and I, traveling throughout the realm to various shanj tournaments. Just in bets alone, we could make a fortune. Everyone would underestimate you.”

“I can’t travel with a man like you.”

“Why not?”

“It would be the height of impropriety!” Her voice had gotten a bit shrill. “Besides, I cannot be associated with… someone like…” She cringed. Perhaps she shouldn’t insult him when she was asking for his help. “And in any case, I am unmarried, and an unmarried woman cannot be alone with a man, let alone gallivant across the realm.”

“Mmm.” He nodded. “Yes, I’d thought of this. You’d probably have to marry me.”

She gaped at him. She was so startled that she could not even speak.

He eyed her. “Well, I’m going to try very hard not to be offended by that reaction. I assure you there are a great many women who would be happy enough with an offer from me. And you, if I am not mistaken, are only the daughter of a merchant, so the elevation to deucess should please you. I do remember people at court caring about such things.”

“You are insane,” she said.

He considered. “Perhaps. Sometimes. I suppose I’ve been overeager and I’ve frightened you. Let’s go back. What am I stealing?”

“The queen has a bracelet,” said Sefoni. “It is not very valuable. It is important to her mostly for sentimental reasons. It came with her ancestor on the ship that went off course and brought the Kandjan people to Briganne.” All the dark-skinned peoples of the realm were descended from these wealthy explorers. “She keeps it hidden in her private chambers, and the king is well aware of this. I know it is improper for her to have taken a lover at all, but… well, it is what it is. She and I are cousins, you know, and we grew up like sisters. I care for her. I only wish her happiness. Her association with Madigain did make her happy for a time. That is, until he stole this bracelet from her.”

“And now, he threatens her with revealing her infidelity to the king,” said Darain.

“You understand, then,” said Sefoni. “If you could get it back, it would solve everything.”

“I’ll get it back,” said Darain. “We’ll do it together, after you marry me.”

“I cannot marry you, sir.”

“Well, those are my terms,” he said.

“Certainly, there is something else that could satisfy you. I have access to the queen’s wealth. She is not precisely aware that I am here, but I can pay you, sir.”

“I have named my price,” said Darain, and he looked her over.

She could feel his dark eyes on her, traveling over her body. She shivered. She tugged at the collar of her dress, trying to cover more of her skin, not that her dresses ever did cover her, at least not enough of her, since her bosom was annoyingly bounteous. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” His voice had dropped several pitches to something very deep.

“Stop looking at me.”

“Would you like me to close my eyes?”

“I’m leaving,” she said. “This was… I don’t know what I was thinking. I should not even be here.”

“You should not,” he agreed. “Stepping foot unchaperoned into this place is enough to ruin your reputation and likely get you expelled from court. Of course, once you marry me, none of that will matter.”

“If you tell anyone I was here, I will deny it.” She said, heat rising to her face again, this time in anger. “And considering our varied reputations, I am sure I will be believed.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps. I suppose if I’m really intent on having you as my wife, I’ll have to try something else.”

“I will never marry you,” she snapped. She stalked to the door and thrust it open. “Good day, sir.”

“I’m a deux,” he called as she left the room. “Isn’t it proper to address me as Your Grace?”

Buy it: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B095FYQWJ6/

#booklr #shameless self promo lmao #six of crows #kaz brekker #ace of shades #acotar #heist #na fantasy #hades and persephone #lore olympus #touch of darkness #books #from blood and ash

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alarawriting · 4 years

Text

52 Project #2: Changeling

Inspired by this story. Also by a number of well-known myths, but the central concept comes from @magic-and-moonlit-wings‘s story.

This falls into the category I call “altered tales”, which are retellings of fairy and folk tales and myths that are... not quite canonical.

***

Surely you have heard a similar tale before, of the mother who went to the crossroads by the light of the moon, pulling a wagon and carrying her changeling babe, to demand the return of her own child.

By the light of the moon she went to the crossroads, and she called out that the Faeries had stolen a thing from her, and that she demanded to see the King of the Faeries about the matter. And then, in the moment of an eyeblink, the grove she stood beside was full of faeries, some flying, some in trees, some standing, and all were very, very beautiful, but some were very, very strange. The King was the most beautiful, looking far too young to be the ancient creature he was, with black and golden hair long and wild on his head, and pale skin, and endlessly deep black eyes. “You claim that Faeries have taken a thing from you, but we never take without giving fair recompense. Are you calling us dishonorable?”

“Whether you considered what you left me fair recompense or not, you never asked me if I wanted to make the trade,” the mother said, and presented the changeling child. “You left this child in the crib my husband and I built for our babe, the one I carried in my body and birthed from my loins, and never did you ask me if I would take this one in trade for the one I spent blood on to bring to the world. You made the trade without asking me if this was fair recompense, or if I was willing to trade at all.” Then she laid the changeling in its swaddling down in the wagon, and stared a challenge at the King.

The King scowled, for the mother knew the laws. Faeries are bound to trade fairly. They will cheat if they can and take what they can and they will lie and cast glamours to make an item of trade look to be of more worth than it is, but when summoned by one they have tried to cheat, one who knows their laws, they must make things right. “Very well, child of Eve, we will return to you your babe.”

A bassinette was brought forward with a sleeping babe within. The mother removed from under her skirts a small bag, and in the bag was a small bottle, and in the small bottle there was a tincture of silver. She uncorked the small bottle and tipped it back into her eye, in front of the Faerie Court, so they would all see that she would not be fooled by glamours. Then she looked upon the bassinette with the untouched eye closed. “Yes. I see clearly, this is my child.” She lifted the bassinette and placed it in the wagon. “You have returned what you took unfairly, so I will take my leave now,” she said, because you cannot thank Faeries. They consider it very rude.

“Wait,” the King said. Now he was glaring. “Do you think we deserve no fair recompense? Return to us what we paid you.”

The mother raised her eyebrows. “Paid me? You paid me nothing, for I made no trade. You gave me no recompense, for I never agreed to sell my child. Instead you gifted me a babe, without conditions, on the night you stole my own. Now both of them are my children.”

Storm clouds gathered over the grove as the Faeries chattered to each other about the insolence of the human woman. “You cannot have it both ways! Either the child we gave you was fair recompense in trade for your babe, or you want your child back and are bound to return ours!”

The mother’s eyes were very hard. “You threw your child away. You left your babe to a human woman, knowing that humans sometimes burn changelings with iron to tell if they are human or not, knowing that humans have burnt and drowned changeling children. You did not ask my permission, so you made no trade at all. You stole from me at the same time as you discarded something you considered worthless. If you throw your trash in my yard, it is mine. It’s not payment for stealing my hen’s eggs or my apples to give me trash you care nought for, without my permission or acquiescence to the trade.”

The changeling spoke in a trembling voice. “My lord, you told me I was banished to the human world, to play the role of a human child. You never said I was of value; you only meant to trick my new mother into thinking me to be her own babe.”

“You are my own babe, for the faeries abandoned you to me, and I adopted you,” the mother said. “That makes you my own, just as much as the one who came from my loins is my own. You will be sisters and twins together and you will both be mine.”

“You think to make demands of the Faerie King?” the King demanded. “Who do you think you are?”

“I am a mother, and a woman. No more and no less. And I will not leave this place without both of my children – the one you stole and the one you discarded.”

“I do not think you will,” the King said, and sneered. “For we do not interpret the law the same way as you do. By our interpretation, you are attempting to gain something for nothing.”

“For nothing?” the mother snapped. “I have fed this babe milk from my own breast. I have warmed her with blankets I wove myself, or the blankets my mother and grandmother wove for my birth, that they gave to me. I have paid for this discarded babe by caring for her when you did not.”

“But you have paid us nothing,” the King said.

“Why should I pay anything to one who steals from me and leaves something he believes worthless in trade for it?” She softened. “But, I can offer you a gift. Even though you discarded a babe you cared nothing for and thought to be garbage and left it in my home for me to care for, I find value in her, and I can give a gift to return value for what has worth to me, even if it had no worth to you when you threw it away.”

“What gift can you offer to Faeries?” The King stood, and the clouds above became thunderclouds, as his brows drew close with his anger.

“Each year, on this night, so long as I live and am hale and hearty enough to make the journey and to speak and tell, I will give you a story. If I am giving birth, or I am ill, or one of my children is and I must care for them, or if I am trapped away from home and cannot make the date, I will return within the month with three stories to pay for the delay. In exchange, I will take home the babe from my womb and the babe you left in my home, and you will trouble neither of them again.”

“I have a different thought,” the King said. “Why not a challenge, to determine which of us is right? We pick a contest, a champion of the Faeries against you, and if you win, you leave here with two babes, but if you lose, both shall stay with us, and you as well.”

“As the one who is being challenged, then, do I have the right to choose the contest?” the mother asked.

“Yes, of course you do.”

From within her skirts the mother drew a cast iron cooking pan. “Then I choose a contest of skill at cooking,” she said. “I have hen’s eggs in my right pocket, here, and I will build a fire and cook them, in this pan. Your champion will also cook eggs, in a pan, on a fire, without magic or glamour, else it would be no contest of cooking skill. Whichever of us cooks the most delicious eggs shall be the winner.”

Now the Faeries chattered in fear, and even the King drew back, for iron is inimical to Faeries, and if the mother used it as a weapon, she could harm or even kill the faeries in the grove. “No,” the King said. “No Faerie can touch an iron cooking pan as humans do.”

“Then you forfeit the challenge to me, and take my original offer, of the stories,” the mother said.

“Before we accept such an offer, let us hear one of your stories. We will judge whether they will be worth two children.”

“That is not what’s at stake,” the mother said. “You will judge whether they will be worth accepting my interpretation of your law, where a thing thrown away cannot be considered fair trade in any way for a thing stolen without permission.”

“Very well,” the King said. “Tell your story, and if we judge it of worth, we will accept your interpretation of the law and let you leave here with two babes.”

And so the mother told this story:

Surely you have heard a similar tale before, of a musician who descended to the Underworld to sing to the Devil and free a loved one.

It happened many years ago that a woman became well known as a troubadour throughout the kingdom, for her singing voice was beautiful beyond compare and she played the flute and the lyre so sweetly one would think her an Angel descended from heaven. But she was no angel. This woman with the beautiful voice and the wondrous skill at playing music was no better than she should be, and she lived the life of any troubadour – drinking, gambling the coin she earned with her music, and spending her nights in the beds of men, as she pleased.

As one would expect, in the fullness of time, she came to be with child. And while she tried to live up to a mother’s responsibilities, old habits are hard to break. No sooner was her babe weaned than she was back to her old ways. She loved her little daughter greatly, but she was not the sort of woman who was good at supervising a child. And so on the night before the little one was to take her first Confession and then Communion, the mother was drinking with her friends, and playing cards, and never noticed that her daughter had left their home to go down to the stream… until they found the girl’s body caught in the reeds and drowned, the next morning.

In grief the woman screamed, and tore at herself with her nails, for she knew that her daughter being old enough to take Communion, but not having had Confession yet, meant that she was old enough that while her original sins were washed away with her baptism, she had accumulated enough sin to go to Purgatory, rather than to Heaven with our Lord and Savior. Her daughter’s eternal soul would never know the glory of God, and it was her own fault.

So she conceived of a plan to go to Hell and bargain with the Devil for the return of her daughter.

What many priests do not tell you is that Purgatory is itself a ring of Hell, the uppermost one. It is the only ring one can be freed from. Prayers for the souls in Purgatory eventually lighten their burden of sin enough that they can go on to Heaven, but it can take hundreds of years, and the prayers of a holy woman are more valuable than the prayers of a woman who lives a life of vice and sin. The musician feared that her daughter would be damned to Purgatory for the length of her own life, or perhaps forever, with no one holy to pray for her. Instead, she would go to the Underworld, to Hell, and offer the Devil a bargain: she would sing and play for him if he would free her daughter.

It is not hard for a woman of loose virtue to find her way to Hell. More difficult when alive, perhaps, but not impossible. The musician brought her pipe and lute through the gates, where she was challenged by a ferocious hellhound with three heads, but she played a sweet lullaby and the dog calmed and went to sleep at her feet.

She found her way to the capital city of Hell, Dis, and presented herself to the court of Lucifer Morningstar, else called Satan, the Adversary of God.

“Why are you here, human woman?” Satan asked. “You’ll be here soon enough with the life you lead, but you’re still of the living, here and now. You don’t belong in Hell… yet.”

“I’ve come to sing for the return of my daughter,” the musician said.

Satan looked down on her, his face stern. “What makes you think you can win your daughter back? Death is final. You were careless and let her go to the stream unsupervised, and now your daughter is dead. What else did you expect?”

“I failed as a mother and I know that,” the musician said. “But I promise you, if you listen to me play, you won’t regret it. I’m the best musician on Earth.”

“I have all of the best musicians that ever were on Earth, before they died; are you so arrogant to think you are better than all of them?” Satan asked.

“Yes,” she said.

And then Satan laughed, for he loves the human sin of pride like none other. “Oh, very well! Entertain me,” he said.

And so she played. Now, I am no musician nor even a singer, to try to replicate her song, so I will just tell you what she sang. She sang a song of the Virgin Mary holding her baby Son, weeping because the angels had told her what His future held, in her dreams, and the love she felt for her Baby overwhelming her and bringing her to the depths of grief, crying out against a God who could be so cruel as to sacrifice His only Son someday.

Against his will, Satan was moved by the song. Before he was Satan the Adversary, he was once Lucifer, beloved of God, and the Virgin crying out against God’s plan woke the part of his heart that remembered being God’s beloved son himself… made, not begotten, as all of us are, but God’s son nonetheless, and the outrage he himself felt over God’s plan in the time before he turned against it, and against God. And as a former angel, even fallen, he longs for the memory of the beautiful music of the heavens, so much so that he is famous for appreciating good music.

When her song had ended, the musician bowed. Satan, hiding how much the song had moved him, said gruffly, “Very well, you’ve proven your skill, and it’s not as if I won’t have you eventually. The soul of a child in Purgatory isn’t worth very much to me… not so much as the guarantee that you will be here with me when your time comes.” He smiled thinly at her. “Do you pledge your eternal soul to me, then?”

“As you said, Lord Satan, I am probably destined for your halls anyway,” the musician said, “but when the time comes, I won’t seek to fight you or confess my sins and fling myself on God’s mercy, if you give me back my child now.”

“Go out the gates of Dis,” Satan instructed. “Walk out through the ring of Purgatory, out toward the gates of Hell, and pass through them. Follow the path upward through the mountain, in darkness, without torch or lantern to light your way. Your daughter will follow behind you, but do not look back until the sun shines on the both of you once again, or she will fall back into Purgatory and you will never see her again.”

“She is my baby,” the musician objected. “I should carry her.”

Satan chuckled. “She’s no babe in arms; she was about to take her first Communion when she died. You don’t need to carry her. She can walk.”

And so the musician left Dis, and passed out through Purgatory as she was instructed, and did not look back. Purgatory is a place of fog, and ghosts. The musician kept thinking she saw someone she knew appear in the fog, but she didn’t dare to turn and look, lest the Devil call that looking back, for she knew he would try to trick her. Nothing exists in Purgatory but what its denizens can imagine, and being shades in Limbo, they have little imagination. In that dreary place, they slowly forget their memories of their lives on Earth, and become nothing more than hollow shades, drifting patterns that were once a living soul. The musician encountered nothing as she traveled; no one spoke, no footfall resounded in that place of emptiness and silence.

She reached the gates of hell and began to walk up the path through the mountain that conceals the gate to Hell. When she had come down this way, she had carried a torch for light, but Satan had told her she must not carry light on her way back. So she traveled up the path, one hand trailing on the cave wall so she would not lose her way or her footing, in complete darkness. And still she heard no sound, no footfall or whisper of breath, from behind her.

Satan has tricked me, she thought. There’s no one behind me. My daughter is still in Purgatory. Her fear and paranoia grew, and she longed to look behind and tell for sure… but she knew she had been told she could not look back until the sun shined on her and her daughter again. It’s a trick to make me look, she told herself, over and over. She’s there, but she won’t be if I look. And if she’s not, if Satan lied, I’ll go back down and wake the dead with my music until he’s forced to return her to me in truth. Besides, how would she be able to see the shade of her daughter in this darkness?

She traveled upward in darkness, and it seemed that the path went on and on, far longer than it had taken her to travel down. It’s a trick, Satan will never let me out into the sunshine. I’m dead already and my punishment is to walk this dark path upward forever, she thought. But what choice did she have? If she gave up and returned down the path, she would surely be trapped in Hell, and her daughter in Purgatory. Of course it seems longer; it’s dark and it’s uphill, she told herself, over and over. And it’s always easier to descend to Hell than to rise up from it. What else should I expect?

But finally, after what seemed like days of travel, she saw the light of the sun up ahead. She quickened her pace, though her legs burned from the long journey, knowing that as soon as she was within the light of the sun, she would be able to behold her daughter – or know if she had been tricked. “Only a little ways longer, my baby,” she crooned to the child she hoped was behind her. “Just a few more steps, and we’ll be in the light.”

And then she was at the mouth of the cave, and the sunlight shone down on the land right outside. She bounded out of the cave, and spun to behold her daughter—

--whose shade was not yet clear of the cave, not yet within the sunlight. She saw a look of anguish on her child’s face, saw her lips form the cry “Mama!”… but there was no sound, and then her daughter’s image faded back into the darkness.

“No!” the mother cried, and ran back into the cave to try to touch her daughter, to catch her before she disappeared completely… but by the time she was in the cave, her daughter was nowhere in sight.

She screamed in rage and grief. And then she marched back down the path again, without a torch, in the darkness, to find her daughter.

Though she was foolish in her recklessness, she knew better than to think she could find her daughter in the fog of Purgatory on her own. So she marched back into Dis and confronted Satan again. “You tricked me!”

Satan shrugged. “I gave you clear rules. You broke them. There’s nothing I can do.”

The musician narrowed her eyes. “You, the original rebel, must follow rules? Are you master here or not? Do you still have to obey rules imposed by your Father, or are you your own being?”

Satan’s face darkened with fury. “How dare you?!”

“What more can you do to me? Trap me in Hell? I’ll be here anyway. Take my daughter from me? Oh, you already did that!” She poked a finger at him. “You can choose to break your own rules, if you like. They’re your rules. You made them; you can choose not to follow them, if you wish.”

“Very well, then. I choose to follow them. You were told what you needed to do to save your daughter from Purgatory and restore her to life, and you didn’t do it. Why should I break my own rules for one who couldn’t be bothered to follow my instructions?”

“Because if you don’t, I will wake the dead and raise them up against you,” the musician said. “Dis is right outside Purgatory and your demons do not go there. They’re too busy tormenting the truly damned.”

Satan sneered. “I don’t fear a mortal musician, woman. Many, many musicians reside within Hell and Purgatory. What makes you so much more than they are?”

“Because I am alive. And because I am a mother, fighting for my daughter,” the musician said, and began to play.

You have never heard music like this, o Faerie King! In her hands, the lyre screamed her fury, and the song she belted out was louder than anyone would imagine a mortal voice could sing. As I’ve said, I am no musician, so I cannot sing or play her song for you, but I can tell you of it. It was a song of purest rage, that mortals must die, that we are all of us condemned for a choice made so long before we were born, that we have the freedom to sin and that Hell even exists. She sang her anger at the concept of death, and the shades in Purgatory heard her song, and it awakened their memories of life, their own anger at their deaths, at themselves for being sinners and God for allowing them the freedom to sin and the Devil and his minions for keeping them there in Purgatory. Their imaginations responded, and shaped Purgatory to be what they wanted. Those who’d been musicians in life took up their own instruments and joined the mother in her song. Those who’d been warriors took up swords and shields, daggers and bows with quivers of arrows.

And Satan saw that the dead were responding to the mother’s song, and feared that she could lead them against Dis and overthrow his rule, or that she could lead them out of Purgatory and up the mountain again and out into the land of the living, where the presence of such terrifying shades would surely drive the frightened living into the arms of God. “Take your daughter and go! You daughter of a dog and a whore, know this; I am taking from you your death. Never will you come here to Hell again, nor to Heaven, no matter how you should plead with The One Whose Name I will not speak. Wander the Earth forever and never know rest, and call yourself happy for winning back your daughter’s life… but she will die again, eventually, as all mortals do, and you will be parted from her forever then!”

“I can live with that,” the musician said, and left Hell.

And this time, when she crossed the boundary into sunlight, she waited until she heard her child’s voice, until she felt the touch of a small hand on her skirts once more, before she turned and scooped her daughter into her arms, and wept like a babe herself.

***

The mother of the two babes bowed as her story finished. “That is the end of my tale,” she said. “Does it suffice to allow me passage back home with both my babes, Your Majesty?”

“Where is that woman today?” the King asked.

The mother shrugged. “That tale, I don’t know. The last I heard, she was headed to the town of Hamelin. She had heard that the priests of that town, rather than being the holy men they should be, were corrupted by the lusts of the flesh, and misuse children for dark purpose, and the elders of the town allowed it. But I do not know what happened then, nor where she is now.”

“Find her, and bring her to us, and we will consider your debt paid in full,” the King said. “Every seven years we must pay a tithe of our people to Hell. A musician who can wake the dead and terrify the Devil might free us from our terrible burden.”

“If I see her, I will ask her to come to you,” the mother said, “and if I hear tales of her, I will bring them to you at the appointed time.”

“And if you have no tale of her, you will pay us with a different story,” the King said.

“Indeed I will. So do we have a bargain, Faerie King?”

“We do,” the King said. “Go from this place, human woman. Take both your children.”

On the way home, the changeling child said, “Mother, I want to be baptized tomorrow. I wish to have an immortal soul like you and my sister.”

“If you can want a soul, you have one,” the mother said. “And you need no baptism; you do not carry the taint of original sin as humans do. But if you want to be baptized to acknowledge your savior as Lord Jesus Christ, I will do so, but it will most likely take from you all of your supernatural memories, and bind you in the form of a human child.”

“That is what I want,” the changeling said. “You bargained for me, to be my mother and to love me and care for me. All I want is to be your babe in arms in return.”

“Then that is what we’ll do,” the mother said.

“But before that, can you tell me… you have some connection to the musician in the story, don’t you, Mother? Who is she to you?”

“She is your grandmother,” the mother said, smiling. “I am the child she rescued from Hell. The Faerie King should have known better than to threaten me. I have none of my mother’s gift for music, but I have never forgotten that my mother challenged the Devil for me, and won. How could I do any less for my own children?”

And then the babe born human woke and began to fuss. The mother pulled the wagon that carried them to a meadow, and sat on the grass with them, her breasts bared to feed both, as she watched the sun rise.

#52 project #alara original writing #altered tales #changelings #deal with the devil

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tatooines-ghosts · 4 years

Text

HAPPY 2020s ENDING Y’ALL!!!

Enjoy a little blog-exclusive Shades AU that I affectionately refer to as the No Jedi Allowed AU, feat. everybody’s favorite prequel-era Mandalorian bounty hunter.

Sometime this last summer, while trying to work past writer’s block, I toyed with a little AU idea for funsies, I made a post about it, said I wasn’t going to do anything else with it, and left it at that. Until a month or two ago when, still in the throes of writer’s block, I took that little AU idea and figured “fuck it, I’m not working on the next chapter, but at least it’s writing SOMETHING Shades related” and made a real thing out of it.

This is Part 1. Future parts will come out at some point in the future, I’m thinking about making these a holiday special or something haven’t decided yet. (And really it’s only blog-exclusive because I cannot make a series on AO3 and remain anonymous so...)

Enough rambling. Please read, I hope you all enjoy this look at how things might have gone a little differently if a couple Jedi didn’t end up going all the way out to Tatooine to stick their noses into Hutt business.

Please assume content warnings given on AO3 may apply to this story as well. Also, beware spoilers if you are not fully caught up on the main story.

No Jedi Allowed AU - Part 1

Jango Fett heaved a long sigh as the door closed behind him. He had just finished up a long job for Jabba, one that should have been quick but ended up requiring well over a week of stake outs and reconnaissance, but in the end he got his man, as he always did. Jabba had at least expressed his gratitude suitably, in money and amenities. He had given Jango one of the better guest suites and was probably going to send up one of his better girls for a night of entertainment.

Jango began shedding his armor, considering what he would do with the slave girl. He really didn't have the energy to draw anything out. He hoped it wasn't going to be a new girl, explaining how things work was more effort than he cared to expend. Really he just wanted a shower and to sleep, but he wasn't about to leave his stuff unattended with a stranger on the way.

There was a light rap on the door.

"Enter."

The slave entered pushing a dinner cart. Jango breathed a sigh of relief. "Skywalker, nice to see you again."

She flashed him a small smile. "Been a while, hasn't it, Jango?" She paused just over the threshold and let the door lock behind her. "The usual tonight?"

"Sure." He finished removing his armor and set it aside carefully aside. "Get yourself ready, I'm hitting the shower first."

He stepped into the 'fresher, leaving Skywalker alone. Ten minutes later, he was stepping back out, with the provided robe draped around him. His clothes were a little rank, and the quick rinse he gave them in the shower wasn't enough to really clean them. They'd get a proper wash when he got home.

Skywalker had set up dinner, laying out the food and drink from the cart on the little dining table for him. She was perched at the holotable, flipping through the selection of games. There weren’t many games, as most visitors to a Hutt pleasure den were usually otherwise occupied in their rooms, or wanted to watch porn.

"How's dejarik sound? I'm not feeling anything particularly strenuous tonight."

"Fine." Jango sat down in the free seat. He grabbed the complimentary bottle of liquor and poured himself a healthy glass. He offered Skywalker a drink, but she declined. She did pick at the fruit he offered to share. There was always more food than he could eat, and he knew the slaves didn’t get fed nearly as well as guests.

She made the first move on the dejarik board. "How's Boba?"

They fell into comfortable conversation about Boba, about Skywalker's sister, about the recently finished racing season – Jango congratulated Skywalker on another victorious season. They played a few lackluster games of dejarik. That was a bit unusual, Skywalker was a worthy opponent, and she didn’t usually lose more than once or twice.

He beat her soundly for the fourth time in a row, the board resent, his turn to make the first move, but instead he checked the time. "I think I'm going to turn in. It's late enough."

"Yeah," she agreed distractedly. She fiddled with the edge of the gauzy white shawl wrapped around her. She looked pale, uneasy.

Jango gave her another critical, searching look. Her behavior was odd enough, was she supposed to be spying on him? Bribe him, coerce him, assassinate him? He knew Jabba wasn’t opposed to taking out a troublesome being with some poison served by a pretty face, but Jango hadn’t done anything to offend his second-best employer recently. The Hutt had no reason to want him dead, or otherwise intimidated.

Maybe Skywalker was just having an off day, or dealing with some other problem. He wasn’t going to ask. Wasn’t his business.

Her outfit tonight was white and copper, paper-thin linen wrapped in layers to be made suitably opaque, with copper metal accents to draw the eye and match the heavy collar around her neck. It was one of her softer, looser costumes. Aside from looking pale and anxious, Skywalker looked pretty good, a little softer, better fed. Jabba kept his slaves starved and stick thin, save for a few exceptions for the fetishists. This was a change, but not a poor one. Maybe Skywalker was being treated better after another successful racing season.

He turned off the holotable and stood up to stretch. The bed was looking very comfortable, and he wanted to get out of here early tomorrow morning.

Skywalker didn't move. "Jango, I need your help."

He fell still. This was a first, she had never asked for his help before. He'd taught her a few tricks to defend herself against handsy patrons who hadn't paid for the privilege to touch her. Maybe someone was a little more aggressive than she could handle. But Jabba had enforcers on staff whose job it was to take care of people like that. There wasn't anything else he could do for her. She had nothing to ask him to smuggle of planet, and there probably wasn't anything she knew of that he could bring to her. Which meant she was about to ask him to do something very stupid and probably impossible.

"What is it?"

She turned her wide blue eyes to him, her lower lip was caught between her teeth, and she worried it as she considered her next words. He could read her indecision clear in her face. His heart sank. If she was so afraid to even say the words, it couldn't be anything good.

"I need you to free me and my sister."

Jango actually laughed, a single, dry bark. "You're joking." She wasn't. "You want me to steal you from the Hutts? Never gonna happen. Jabba would kill us both for just considering it."

She didn't seem particularly disappointed with his rejection. She implored, "Please, Jango, you're our only hope for freedom."

"No. No way." Even if he wanted to, Jango wouldn't risk earning Jabba's ire, no matter how much he liked Skywalker.

Yes, he felt sorry for Skywalker and her little sister. Being born slaves was unfortunate, but it was their rotten luck that they ended up being owned by Jabba the Hutt. If anyone touched Jabba's property, or thought they could steal from him, they were dead already. Jango had been hired several times to bring in a bounty on someone who had done exactly that. He was not going to put himself on Jabba's shit list.

"I'm pregnant!" she blurted out. "Please, Jango, I can't let my baby be born a slave too." She shifted her arms, removing the shawl from around her waist, and there was the unmistakable roundness to her belly. "I don't even know if Jabba will let me keep my baby."

Jango sighed heavily. "He let you keep your sister."

"Because I didn't give birth to her, because he needed leverage over me after my mom died." She drew a shaking breath; he could see tears gathering in her frightened eyes. "He hasn't even made up his mind on whether he'll let me have the baby. Any day now he could take them from me if it stops me from being able to serve. He'll cut the baby out of me, he'll kill them. And if I do get to have them, then what? He'll steal them from my arms, or just use them like he uses Shila. Please, Jango, I can't go on like this. I want my baby to live. I want to raise them. I want Shila to grow up and know what freedom is."

Jango didn't move, didn't speak, his eyes stayed on Skywalker. His brain was already picking at the idea; it wouldn't be too difficult to – no! He was not about to ruin his career and risk his life for a pregnant slave girl, it's not like the baby was his. What stake did he have at all in Skywalker's future? None! If he tried helping her and they got caught, Boba would be left fatherless. The boy might never know what became of his father. But Anakin... she was the victim of her circumstances. Her little sister and her unborn baby were innocent of the whole matter. They were just slaves.

It wasn't like Jango was opposed to slavery, it was a lucrative evil for the dark corners of the galaxy, and it kept him paid, fed, and employed. He was a mercenary; he wasn't a saint, or even really a good person. Killing was never personal, it was for the job, but he still had a code of honor. And abandoning Skywalker after she asked for his help, after she had exposed herself to be in such a vulnerable position… that was breaking his code.

Would he be able to live with himself if he left her here to her fate? If Jabba stole her child, would he ever be able to look her in the eye again? And Boba... was this the kind of example he wanted to set for his son? Disregarding the lives of children and babies because he didn’t want to risk his own neck. Shameful. Dishonorable. No true Mandalorian would sacrifice a child’s life for their own comfort.

"Ossik," Jango hissed under his breath, dropping back into his seat. "Okay. Fine. I'll get you out of here."

Freeing Skywalker and her little sister was easier than Jango suspected it would have been. Granted it was easy for him to go where he needed in the palace, and nobody looked at him twice. He met Shila Skywalker, the little ad'ika he had heard so much about from her older sister. It was clear they were family, they shared the same face, but where Anakin was fair haired and blue-eyed, Shila was dark haired and brown-eyed. Reportedly she looked like their mother, Shmi, but Jango had never met the woman. Shila was young, only three years old, and she was quiet and shy, and frightened of Jango; a fact that was not helped at all when Jango had to cut the slave chip out of the child's stomach. It was just beneath the skin, and he didn't have to cut deep, so he was able to be very quick about it, but it still had to be done without pain killers.

It hadn’t been pleasant or fun for any involved. Skywalker had to hold the child down, keeping her hand pressed over Shila’s mouth to muffle the screams. But Jango had been the one with the knife. It would probably be some time before the child trusted him.

She flinched away from him with a whimper, hiding her face in her sister’s shoulder when he offered his hand after it and apologized. “Sorry, ad’ika, but you were very brave.”

The elder Skywalker, on the other hand, hardly made a sound when Jango carved out her chip from her shoulder.

With the girls freshly unchipped, Jango smuggled them unseen into his ship and stowed them in a hidden compartment in his cargo hold. It was specially lined to block life signs from most scanners, and certainly anything Jabba had his hands on out here. He left at dawn, nobody looked twice as he had made several comments before about leaving early, and he had never made a habit of staying very long in Jabba's palace in the first place.

Only when he was safely in hyperspace and clear from any Hutt influence did he release his cargo from the hold. Shila had been soothed to sleep by her sister, but Anakin was fully alert and terrified.

"Thank you for doing this," she said gratefully. "Jango, I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you. You saved our lives."

"Don't thank me yet. Just because I got you out of there doesn't mean you're safe. Jabba's not going to like losing you."

"I know." Her hand moved behind Shila, rested against her belly. "But you've given us a chance."

A few hours later there was a small explosion at Jabba's palace. Nobody was injured, and the damage was minimal, but it threw everyone and everything into hysterics. In the chaos, it took time for someone to take count of the slaves, and then they noticed two very valuable slaves were missing. Search parties uncovered the hastily buried tracker chips, coated in dried blood and sand. Jabba's wrath was terrible and he turned the planet of Tatooine upside down looking for Anakin Skywalker.

Jango landed Slave I on the storm tossed landing pad, rain drummed against the hull. It was midday, though the rainclouds were so thick it might as well have been midnight. He dropped from the cockpit down to the passenger hold, where Skywalker sat with her sister.

Anakin, he supposed he should get used to calling her by her first name. They were aliit now. Whether she knew it or not, when Anakin had thrown her lot in with him to gain her freedom, Jango had brought her into his tiny clan. There really was no way to get around it. Releasing the Skywalkers into the galaxy to fend for themselves was as good as putting a blaster bolt in the back of their skulls. Jabba would have them back and dead, or worse, by week’s end. There was safety, at least, in a clan, security under the Fett name; even if the clan had doubled it in size overnight.

Shila was sleeping soundly, curled in her sister's arms and lap, but Anakin was alert and worried.

"What's that noise? An attack?"

The rain was so familiar to Jango, he tuned it out automatically. "What? No, that's the rain. Water falling from the sky," he had to clarify. He realized rain probably wasn't a word that ever got thrown around on Tatooine.

Anakin glowered at him. "I know what rain is. My mother told me." Her cheeks went pink. "I just didn't realize it made much noise."

Jango gave her some credit. "It is coming down rather hard out there. Come on. We'll get you inside and into more suitable clothes."

Kamino was cold, and the cloner's kept their facility chilly. Anakin's service costume was not going to cut it. He opened the cargo ramp, a blast of cold, wet air swept in.

He heard a gasp and a yelp behind him, Shila had woken up. Anakin tried to comfort the child in Huttese, but Jango could see her own eyes were wide with fear. This much rain and water had to be a shock. But Jango was hungry, tired, and ready to change into something more comfortable. He didn't want to stand here until the desert natives got used to rain.

"Come on," he said again, taking Anakin by the arm and pulling her forward. They walked quickly from ship to facility door, Jango keeping his grip firm so Anakin didn't slip and fall on the wet walkway, her shoes were less suitable for the slick metal than her clothes were for the climate. By the time they stepped inside, Anakin was shivering. Whether from the cold and wet, or everything else, he wasn't sure but thirty seconds in the downpour had turned her costume downright indecent. The flowy white linen had turned translucent and plastered against her body. It made the curve of her belly even more obvious.

It was a good thing Skywalker was so distracted looking around at everything else to not notice him staring and frowning at her. Well, more accurately, staring at her abdomen. A seed of doubt quickly settled and bloomed in his mind – not the first to grow since he agreed to free the Skywalkers, and he squashed it like the others. Having a baby around soon was going to make things interesting.

He sighed softly and shook his head. That little bastard was going to cause him a lot of trouble, he knew it already. After all, it had been the baby that tipped him over to helping the Skywalkers in the first place and inevitably put him on Jabba’s shit list.

How long would it be until Jabba put a bounty on his head? He couldn't possibly be so lucky as to escape without suspicion.

Jango stepped off down the hall, wondering whether the Skywalkers should be seen by a doctor first or if he should just take them home. When the ad'ika began to complain of the cold and the wet, he bypassed the corridor turn that would lead to the medical wing.

Their apartment had that mild, unlived in scent when he stepped in. Boba would have been left with his Kaminoan caretakers while Jango had been gone for a few weeks.

"Come on. We'll get you dried and change clothes before getting you to a doctor."

"Doctor?"

Jango stepped into the 'fresher and dug out some clean towels. He buried his derisive snort in the linen closet. "I doubt Jabba wasted any expenses on having you checked out, didn't he?"

"No, he didn't." Anakin folded her hands over her belly. "I thought for the longest time it might be dead inside me, but I've started to feel them move."

Jango handed her two towels. "How far along are you?"

"Almost six months."

Anakin bent to wrap Shila in the fluffy towel so she didn't see Jango frown at her. He was no expert, but he was almost certain most women were bigger by the time they were five or six months pregnant. Sure, she looked pregnant, but only barely.

"You sure about that?"

Anakin stilled, but nodded, her voice was low and confident. "Yes. I know exactly when it happened."

Jango wasn't going to press the issue. The Kaminoans could figure out the nitty gritty biological details. He moved to the bedrooms, "I'll find you some dry clothes. Won't fit all that well, but they'll be warmer and more suitable than that costume." He pulled a shirt and a pair of pants with a soft, drawstring waistband from his closet. The Kaminoans would have no trouble fabricating something more suitable for Anakin and Shila to wear, but this would do short-term. The little girl's clothes were the basic pants and tunic of Tatooine, but Anakin's costume would be entirely unsuitable for Kamino's climate, not to mention just daily life.

Jango grabbed a shirt from Boba’s room for Shila. It was big enough to be a dress on the child, and the sleeves fell past her hands, but it was workable with a few adjustments. Anakin's clothes were just as ill-fitting, but she didn't complain. She just had to pull the drawstring tight to keep her pants secure around her waist.

"It's only temporary," Jango assured her as she tugged at the oversized shirt. "We'll get you some better fitting clothes ‘fabbed once the Kaminoans get their measurements."

"It's fine," Anakin said quietly, fingering the shirt fabric, it was probably sturdier than anything she'd worn in a long time. Jango's clothes were made for warmth and wear. "This will do."

Jango took them back from the apartment and into the cloning complex, through the cold white hallways to the medical facility. It wasn't empty, it never was. With how many clones the Kaminoans spat out, the medical facilities were always busy; someone was always hurt or sick or injured, or having their genetic aberrations evaluated for viability. But the entrance from Jango's side of the facility kept him separated from the main body. He had mentioned the cloners to Anakin before, but he wasn't sure how much she had picked up on though. It had been a passing conversation as he taught her how to play sabbac. He felt like explaining it in whole might be a bit much for the newly-freed slave.

His side of the medical facility was a little clinic set aside from the main body of the medical wing. It was just one room; the medical bed dominated one side, while cabinets of medication and supplies lined the other walls. There were two doors, one they came through and another that went into the larger facility.

Jango flipped a switch on the panel by the facility door, it would summon a doctor. It must have been a slow day because a Kaminoan stepped into the room a few moments later, one of the doctors. Her big eyes scanned over Anakin and Shila before turning to Jango.

"What can I do for you today, Jango?"

"Doctor Wey Luma, this is Anakin and Shila Skywalker, new additions to my aliit. They both had subdermal chips removed that need patching up, and health checks, and Anakin's pregnant."

Kaminoans weren't nearly as expressive as humans, but Jango could see the excitement in Wey Luma's face. The doctors working with the clones were human specialists, but it wasn't like they came across any pregnant ones in this facility. She would probably become a scientific celebrity just on the fact that she got knocked up. He hoped Anakin wouldn't mind the scientists pawing at her. Probably not, she had enough practice with drunk Hutt patrons, and the Kaminoans wouldn't want to fuck her.

He turned to the Skywalkers, "Wey Luma will take care of you. I need to make some arrangements for your stay here."

"Okay." Anakin nodded and set her sister on the bed at the doctor's encouragement. Jango left the room and pulled up his comm.

He made a call to Taun We to arrange for a bigger apartment, they would need more space with Anakin, Shila, and a baby on the way. Plus supplies and clothing for the new additions.

And it was time to get Boba back from his caretakers and introduce his son to his new aliit. By the time he stepped back into the exam room, Anakin was perched on the medical bed, and Wey Luma was practically buzzing with excitement.

"Such hybridizations are almost unheard of," the doctor trilled. "You could provide us with priceless data."

Anakin looked nervous. She chewed on her lower lip while her hands rested over her little belly. "Would that mean you'll make sure the baby is healthy?"

The Kaminoan paused, confused. Jango stepped in quickly. "They'll take care of you and the baby regardless of whether you agree to let them study you."

"Oh, yes, of course," Wey Luma insisted quickly. "We would not withhold medical treatment. But… you would just do us an enormous favor if we were able to study you and your child."

"What's so special about it anyway?" Jango asked before Anakin had to agree to anything.

"He's half-pantoran. Humans and pantorans typically do not mix genetically."

Jango grunted in understanding. He understood only the most basics of genetics, and he imagined Anakin understood even less. "She'll think about it."

There was nothing else they needed from the doctor, so Jango took them back home.

Taun We was waiting with Boba and a small crate of supplies, the new clothes. Kaminoans were nothing if not efficient; the clothing fabricators must have gotten Anakin's measurements from the medical scans.

There wasn’t time for more than the quickest introductions, as their apartment had to be packed up and everything moved into bigger quarters. A squad of droids expedited the process, and after only a couple hours, they were fully moved into a new apartment.

Taun We and the droids left the newly expanded Fett clan alone to get properly acquainted.

“Boba,” Jango put a hand on his son’s shoulder, pushing him forward ever so slightly. “This is Anakin and her sister Shila Skywalker.”

Boba’s dark eyes traced over the Skywalkers. Confusion curled in his head, father had never brought home anyone before, much less a woman and child. He’d met a few of his father’s more trustworthy associates before, but Anakin didn’t look like a bounty hunter or well… much of anything. What was it about them that had prompted such a sudden uprooting? Why were they now living together?

He’d heard Jango and Anakin muttering about a baby earlier during the move. Was that why? Was she his father’s… girlfriend? Was Shila his half-sister? A natural born Fett heir?

Jango’s grip tightened on Boba’s shoulder and he quickly remembered his manners. “Hello.” He nodded quickly to Anakin and Shila, and then turned to his father for further explanation.

“Anakin and Shila are alit now. I expect you to treat them as such.”

Aliit? Them? That word meant something in Mando’a, Jango wouldn’t throw it around casually. But he knew his father’s adopted clan lines, he knew the branches and offshoots, and distant relations belonging to the family that had taken his father in as a boy. Skywalker was not one of those family names.

“Where did they come from?”

“Tatooine.”

That illuminated very little for Boba, but he could hear the mildly dismissive tone in his father’s words. Now was not the time for more questions.

Jango pushed Boba forward a little more. “Anakin and I need to talk. Can you keep Shila entertained?”

“Oh, okay.” Boba craned his neck a little to peek behind Anakin’s legs, where Shila was hiding. “Shila?” The child buried her face in the back of Anakin’s thighs.

Anakin smiled slightly and scooped her hand behind the child’s head and pushed her forward towards Boba. She said in gentle Huttese, “Go on, Shila, go with Boba.”

Shila stumbled forward, gripping tightly to Anakin’s sleeve. Her eyes were wide and frightened, and Boba didn’t miss the way she flinched away from Jango.

“Introduce yourself.” Anakin prompted.

Shila stuttered out in Huttese a quiet little, “H-hello.”

Boba looked back to his father once again, asking silently if Shila only spoke Huttese. His father nodded curtly, yes.

No worry there, Boba was near fluent in Huttese, so he smiled at the little girl and said back to her, “Hello Shila, I’m Boba.”

Her eyes lit up when she finally understood his words. Boba offered his hand and the child took it. He led her off down the hallway to her new bedroom, right across the hall from Boba’s.

“Let’s see what kind of toys we can find.”

Boba thought he was getting a little too old for toys, but the move had unearthed a lot of old stuff he had nearly forgotten about. He pulled the box down and set it on the floor for Shila to explore while he moved to the open door and tried to listen to whatever his father and Anakin were discussing, but they were speaking too quietly for him to overhear. Jango was clattering around the kitchen, preparing their evening meal, but also making enough noise to purposefully discourage eavesdropping.

Annoyed and disappointed, Boba turned back to Shila. She had tipped most of the boxes contents out onto the floor and had promptly ignored all of them for the plush Aiwha that was almost as big as she was. It must have been a gift or something, though Boba had never particularly cared for the stuffed animal; or many plus toys in general. Shila seemed to like it, though, so he held no qualms bestowing it upon her. Shila was so delighted and excited over the gift, she even dragged it out to the kitchen when they were called for dinner to show Anakin what Boba had given her.

Shila was all set to sit the Aiwha at the table with them for dinner, but Anakin had her put it back in her room. Jango wouldn’t have cared either way – it wouldn’t have been the first time a toddler would have insisted that a favorite toy had to be a dinner guest – but Anakin was still trying to figure out her place in this whole affair, so he wasn’t about to step in a parent her baby sister. Not yet at least.

Shila was still very much frightened of him, even without his armor and the knife, it would be some times before she warmed up to him. Probably when the pain and scar from her tracker faded. Having everyone around her able to speak the same language helped, but Jango knew the child couldn’t only know Huttese for forever. Galactic Basic was a must, as was Mando’a, and Kaminoan would be useful too. He had no doubt Shila would pick up new languages quickly, children that young learned fast. Anakin on the other hand needed to start Mando’a lessons as quickly as possible, picking up the language would be harder for her, but it was something she had to know.

Nobody in his aliit would not be fluent in Mando'a.

"You keep using that word," Anakin observed over dinner. "'A-leet' what does it mean?"

"Aliit means family, of the same clan."

She frowned at him, her brow furrowing in suspicion. "But we're not-"

"You are newly freed slaves. You have no clan or family. You're foundlings and I have taken you in, so now you are part of my aliit. The galaxy is safer for you this way, you have protection."

Anakin stared at him, caught between gratitude and suspicion. “Does this mean we will have to change our names?”

For practical reasons, it would be safer for Anakin and Shila to adopt new surnames; it reduced the chance people would recognize her by name. But he understood the importance and attachment beings could have to family names. If he told her she had to change, she would probably do so without complaint, but that might make her resent the name, resent him and this gift of freedom he was giving her. Then again, this wasn’t something he felt was within his power to decide for her. “Not if you don’t want to.”

Anakin nodded slowly, considering something else. “Does that mean we’re trapped here?”

Trapped wasn’t the word that Jango would have chosen, but he knew where she was coming from. What was the point of being free if you had nowhere to go except back to slavery? With no home, no family, no resources, or friends to turn to Kamino could feel like a trap.

“For now,” he said reassuringly, “You are safe here, and hidden. Kamino is not widely known to the galaxy, nor will the Hutts think to search for you here. And there’s no chance of anyone seeing you and turning you back over to him. If you find staying here to be truly interminable, I can make other arrangements for you, but it will take time.”

Most of the suspicion left Anakin, though Jango could still read a little unease in her. Freedom would take time to adjust to, and it had been less than a day. Her eyes skimmed over him and to the dark, rain-lashed windows that made up a wall of their living area. She managed an uneasy smile and said lightly, “Well, it is very different from Tatooine.”

#long post #not kidding y'all #this is over 5k of story #story related #no jedi allowed au #shades of tatooine #anakin skywalker #jango fett #boba fett #star wars #Jango is ace and there is nothing that will ever convince me otherwise!

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THEinc-HIM Daily Bible Meditation - February 14 - Full Text - Celebrate St. Valentine’s Day

FEBRUARY 14

PSALMS: 14, 44, 74, 104, 134

PROVERBS: 14

OLD TESTAMENT: RUTH 2:1 - 4:22

NEW TESTAMENT: JOHN 4:43 - 54

PSALMS: 14

1 The fool has said in his heart,

"There is no God.

" They are corrupt, they have done abominable works.

There is none who does good.

2 The LORD looked down from heaven on the children of men,

To see if there were any who did understand,

Who did seek after God.

3 They have all gone aside;

they have together become corrupt.

There is none who does good, no, not one.

4 Have all the workers of iniquity no knowledge,

Who eat up my people as they eat bread,

And don't call on the LORD?

5 There were they in great fear,

For God is in the generation of the righteous.

6 You put to shame the counsel of the poor,

Because the LORD is his refuge.

7 Oh that the yeshu`ah of Yisra'el would come out of Tziyon!

When the LORD restores the fortunes of his people,

Then Ya`akov shall rejoice, and Yisra'el shall be glad.

PSALMS: 44

1 We have heard with our ears,

God; Our fathers have told us,

What work you did in their days,

In the days of old.

2 You drove out the nations with your hand,

But you planted them.

You afflicted the peoples,

But you spread them abroad.

3 For they didn't get the land in possession by their own sword,

Neither did their own arm save them;

But your right hand, and your arm, and the light of your face,

Because you were favorable to them.

4 You are my King, God.

Command victories for Ya`akov!

5 Through you, will we push down our adversaries.

Through your name, will we tread them under who rise up against us.

6 For I will not trust in my bow,

Neither shall my sword save me.

7 But you have saved us from our adversaries,

And have put them to shame who hate us.

8 In God have we made our boast all day long,

We will give thanks to your name forever. Selah.

9 But now you rejected us, and brought us to dishonor,

And don't go out with our armies.

10 You make us turn back from the adversary.

Those who hate us take spoil for themselves.

11 You have made us like sheep for food,

And have scattered us among the nations.

12You sell your people for nothing,

And have gained nothing from their sale.

13 You make us a reproach to our neighbors,

A scoffing and a derision to those who are round about us.

14 You make us a byword among the nations,

A shaking of the head among the peoples.

15 All day long is my dishonor before me,

And shame covers my face,

16 At the taunt of one who reproaches and reviles,

Because of the enemy and the avenger.

17 All this has come on us,

Yet have we not forgotten you,

Neither have we been false to your covenant.

18 Our heart has not turned back,

Neither have our steps declined from your way,

19 That you have crushed us in the haunt of jackals,

And covered us with the shadow of death.

20 If we have forgotten the name of our God,

Or spread forth our hands to a strange god;

21 Won't God search this out?

For he knows the secrets of the heart.

22 Yes, for your sake are we killed all day long.

We are regarded as sheep for the slaughter.

23 Wake up!

Why do you sleep, Lord? Arise!

Don't reject us forever.

24 Why do you hide your face,

And forget our affliction and our oppression?

25 For our soul is bowed down to the dust.

Our body cleaves to the eretz.

26 Rise up to help us.

Redeem us for your loving kindness' sake.

PSALMS: 74

1 God, why have you rejected us forever?

Why does your anger smolder against the sheep of your pasture?

2 Remember your congregation, which you purchased of old,

Which you have redeemed to be the tribe of your inheritance;

Mount Tziyon, in which you have lived.

3 Lift up your feet to the perpetual ruins,

All the evil that the enemy has done in the sanctuary.

4 Your adversaries have roared in the midst of your assembly.

They have set up their standards as signs.

5 They behaved like men wielding axes,

Cutting through a thicket of trees.

6 Now all its carved work

They break down with hatchet and hammers.

7 They have burned your sanctuary to the ground.

They have profaned the dwelling-place of your Name.

8 They said in their heart,

"We will crush them completely.

" They have burned up all the places in the land where God was worshiped.

9 We see no miraculous signs.

There is no longer any prophet,

Neither is there among us anyone who knows how long.

10 How long, God, shall the adversary reproach?

Shall the enemy blaspheme your name forever?

11 Why do you draw back your hand, even your right hand?

Take it out of your pocket and consume them!

12 Yet God is my King of old,

Working salvation in the midst of the eretz.

13 You divided the sea by your strength.

You broke the heads of the sea monsters in the waters.

14 You broke the heads of Livyatan in pieces.

You gave him as food to people and desert creatures.

15 You opened up spring and stream.

You dried up mighty rivers.

16 The day is yours, the night is also yours.

You have prepared the light and the sun.

17 You have set all the boundaries of the eretz.

You have made summer and winter.

18 Remember this, that the enemy has mocked you, LORD.

Foolish people have blasphemed your name.

19 Don't deliver the soul of your dove to wild beasts.

Don't forget the life of your poor forever.

20 Honor your covenant,

For haunts of violence fill the dark places of the eretz.

21 Don't let the oppressed return ashamed.

Let the poor and needy praise your name.

22 Arise, God! Plead your own cause.

Remember how the foolish man mocks you all day.

23 Don't forget the voice of your adversaries.

The tumult of those who rise up against you ascends continually.

PSALMS: 104

1 Bless the LORD, my soul.

The LORD, my God, you are very great.

You are clothed with honor and majesty.

2 He covers himself with light as with a garment.

He stretches out the heavens like a curtain.

3 He lays the beams of his chambers in the waters.

He makes the clouds his chariot.

He walks on the wings of the wind.

4He makes his messengers winds;

His servants flames of fire.

5 He laid the foundations of the eretz,

That it should not be moved forever.

6 You covered it with the deep as with a cloak.

The waters stood above the mountains.

7 At your rebuke they fled.

At the voice of your thunder they hurried away.

8 The mountains rose,

The valleys sank down,

To the place which you had assigned to them.

9 You have set a boundary that they may not pass over;

That they don't turn again to cover the eretz.

10 He sends forth springs into the valleys.

They run among the mountains.

11 They give drink to every animal of the field.

The wild donkeys quench their thirst.

12 The birds of the sky nest by them.

They sing among the branches.

13 He waters the mountains from his chambers.

The eretz is filled with the fruit of your works.

14 He causes the grass to grow for the cattle,

And plants for man to cultivate,

That he may bring forth food out of the eretz:

15Wine that makes glad the heart of man,

Oil to make his face to shine,

And bread that strengthens man's heart.

16 The LORD's trees are well watered,

The cedars of Levanon, which he has planted;

17 Where the birds make their nests.

The stork makes its home in the fir trees.

18 The high mountains are for the wild goats.

The rocks are a refuge for the rock badgers.

19 He appointed the moon for seasons.

The sun knows when to set.

20 You make darkness, and it is night,

In which all the animals of the forest prowl.

21 The young lions roar after their prey,

And seek their food from God.

22 The sun rises, and they steal away,

And lay down in their dens.

23 Man goes forth to his work,

To his labor until the evening.

24 The LORD, how many are your works!

In wisdom have you made them all.

The eretz is full of your riches.

25 There is the sea, great and wide,

In which are innumerable living things,

Both small and great animals.

26 There the ships go,

And livyatan, whom you formed to play there.

27 These all wait for you,

That you may give them their food in due season.

28 You give to them; they gather.

You open your hand; they are satisfied with good.

29 You hide your face: they are troubled;

You take away their breath: they die, and return to the dust.

30 You send forth your Spirit: they are created.

You renew the face of the ground.

31 Let the glory of the LORD endure forever.

Let the LORD rejoice in his works.

32 He looks at the eretz, and it trembles.

He touches the mountains, and they smoke.

33 I will sing to the LORD as long as I live.

I will sing praise to my God while I have any being.

34 Let your meditation be sweet to him.

I will rejoice in the LORD.

35 Let sinners be consumed out of the eretz.

Let the wicked be no more.

Bless the LORD, my soul.

Praise the LORD!

PSALMS: 134

1 Look! Praise the LORD, all you servants of the LORD,

Who stand by night in the LORD's house!

2 Lift up your hands in the sanctuary.

Praise the LORD!

3 May the LORD bless you from Tziyon;

Even he who made heaven and eretz.

PROVERBS: 14

1 Every wise woman builds her house,

But the foolish one tears it down with her own hands.

2 He who walks in his uprightness fears the LORD,

But he who is perverse in his ways despises him.

3 The fool's talk brings a rod to his back,

But the lips of the wise protect them.

4 Where no oxen are, the crib is clean,

But much increase is by the strength of the ox.

5 A truthful witness will not lie,

But a false witness pours out lies.

6 A scoffer seeks wisdom, and doesn't find it,

But knowledge comes easily to a discerning person.

7 Stay away from a foolish man,

For you won't find knowledge on his lips.

8 The wisdom of the prudent is to think about his way,

But the folly of fools is deceit.

9 Fools mock at making atonement for sins,

But among the upright there is good will.

10 The heart knows its own bitterness and joy;

He will not share these with a stranger.

11 The house of the wicked will be overthrown,

But the tent of the upright will flourish.

12There is a way which seems right to a man,

But in the end it leads to death.

13 Even in laughter the heart may be sorrowful,

And mirth may end in heaviness.

14 The unfaithful will be repaid for his own ways;

Likewise a good man will be rewarded for his ways.

15 The simple believes everything,

But the prudent man carefully considers his ways.

16 A wise man fears, and shuns evil,

But the fool is hotheaded and reckless.

17 He who is quick to become angry will commit folly,

And a crafty man is hated.

18 The simple inherit folly,

But the prudent are crowned with knowledge.

19 The evil bow down before the good,

And the wicked, at the gates of the righteous.

20 The poor person is shunned even by his own neighbor,

But the rich person has many friends.

21 He who despises his neighbor sins,

But blessed is he who has pity on the poor.

22 Don't they go astray who plot evil?

But love and faithfulness belong to those who plan good.

23 In all hard work there is profit,

But the talk of the lips leads only to poverty.

24 The crown of the wise is their riches,

But the folly of fools crowns them with folly.

25 A truthful witness saves souls,

But a false witness is deceitful.

26 In the fear of the LORD is a secure fortress,

And he will be a refuge for his children.

27 The fear of the LORD is a fountain of life,

Turning people from the snares of death.

28 In the multitude of people is the king's glory,

But in the lack of people is the destruction of the prince.

29 He who is slow to anger has great understanding,

But he who has a quick temper displays folly.

30 The life of the body is a heart at shalom,

But envy rots the bones.

31 He who oppresses the poor shows contempt for his Maker,

But he who is kind to the needy honors him.

32 The wicked is brought down in his calamity,

But in death, the righteous has a refuge.

33 Wisdom rests in the heart of one who has understanding,

And is even made known in the inward part of fools.

34 Righteousness exalts a nation,

But sin is a disgrace to any people.

35 The king's favor is toward a servant who deals wisely,

But his wrath is toward one who causes shame.

33 When the multitudes heard it, they were astonished at his teaching.

OLD TESTAMENT: RUTH 2:1 - 4:22

2:1 Na`omi had a kinsman of her husband's, a mighty man of wealth, of the family of Elimelekh, and his name was Bo`az. 2 Rut the Mo'avite said to Na`omi, Let me now go to the field, and glean among the ears of grain after him in whose sight I shall find favor. She said to her, Go, my daughter. 3 She went, and came and gleaned in the field after the reapers: and she happened to come to the portion of the field belonging to Bo`az, who was of the family of Elimelekh. 4 Behold, Bo`az came from Beit-Lechem, and said to the reapers, the LORD be with you. They answered him, the LORD bless you. 5 Then said Bo`az to his servant who was set over the reapers, Whose young lady is this? 6 The servant who was set over the reapers answered, It is the Mo'avite lady who came back with Na`omi out of the country of Mo'av: 7 She said, Please let me glean and gather after the reapers among the sheaves. So she came, and has continued even from the morning until now, except that she stayed a little in the house. 8 Then said Bo`az to Rut, Don't you hear, my daughter? Don't go to glean in another field, neither pass from hence, but abide here fast by my maidens. 9 Let your eyes be on the field that they reap, and go after them: haven't I charged the young men that they shall not touch you? and when you are thirsty, go to the vessels, and drink of that which the young men have drawn. 10 Then she fell on her face, and bowed herself to the ground, and said to him, Why have I found favor in your sight, that you should take knowledge of me, seeing I am a foreigner? 11 Bo`az answered her, It has fully been shown me, all that you have done to your mother-in-law since the death of your husband; and how you have left your father and your mother, and the land of your birth, and have come to a people that you didn't know before. 12 The LORD recompense your work, and a full reward be given you of the LORD, the God of Yisra'el, under whose wings you are come to take refuge. 13 Then she said, Let me find favor in your sight, my lord, because you have comforted me, and because you have spoken kindly to your handmaid, though I am not as one of your handmaidens. 14 At meal-time Bo`az said to her, Come here, and eat of the bread, and dip your morsel in the vinegar. She sat beside the reapers, and they reached her parched grain, and she ate, and was sufficed, and left of it. 15 When she was risen up to glean, Bo`az commanded his young men, saying, Let her glean even among the sheaves, and don't reproach her. 16 Also pull out some for her from the bundles, and leave it, and let her glean, and don't rebuke her. 17 So she gleaned in the field until even; and she beat out that which she had gleaned, and it was about an efah of barley. 18 She took it up, and went into the city; and her mother-in-law saw what she had gleaned: and she brought forth and gave to her that which she had left after she was sufficed. 19 Her mother-in-law said to her, Where have you gleaned today? and where have you worked? blessed be he who did take knowledge of you. She shown her mother-in-law with whom she had worked, and said, The man's name with whom I worked today is Bo`az. 20 Na`omi said to her daughter-in-law, Blessed be he of the LORD, who has not left off his kindness to the living and to the dead. Na`omi said to her, The man is a close relative to us, one of our near kinsmen. 21 Rut the Mo'avite said, Yes, he said to me, You shall keep fast by my young men, until they have ended all my harvest.

22 Na`omi said to Rut her daughter-in-law, It is good, my daughter, that you go out with his maidens, and that they not meet you in any other field. 23 So she kept fast by the maidens of Bo`az, to glean to the end of barley harvest and of wheat harvest; and she lived with her mother-in-law.

3:1 Na`omi her mother-in-law said to her, My daughter, shall I not seek rest for you, that it may be well with you? 2 Now isn't Bo`az our kinsman, with whose maidens you were? Behold, he winnows barley tonight in the threshing floor. 3 Wash yourself therefore, and anoint you, and put your clothing on you, and get you down to the threshing floor, but don't make yourself known to the man, until he shall have done eating and drinking. 4 It shall be, when he lies down, that you shall mark the place where he shall lie, and you shall go in, and uncover his feet, and lay you down; and he will tell you what you shall do. 5 She said to her, All that you say I will do. 6 She went down to the threshing floor, and did according to all that her mother-in-law bade her.

7 When Bo`az had eaten and drunk, and his heart was merry, he went to lie down at the end of the heap of grain: and she came softly, and uncovered his feet, and laid her down. 8 It happened at midnight, that the man was afraid, and turned himself; and, behold, a woman lay at his feet. 9 He said, Who are you? She answered, I am Rut your handmaid: spread therefore your skirt over your handmaid; for you are a near kinsman. 10 He said, Blessed are you by the LORD, my daughter: you have shown more kindness in the latter end than at the beginning, inasmuch as you didn't follow young men, whether poor or rich.11 Now, my daughter, don't be afraid; I will do to you all that you say; for all the city of my people does know that you are a worthy woman. 12 Now it is true that I am a near kinsman; however there is a kinsman nearer than I. 13 Stay this night, and it shall be in the morning, that if he will perform to you the part of a kinsman, well; let him do the kinsman's part: but if he will not do the part of a kinsman to you, then will I do the part of a kinsman to you, as the LORD lives: lie down until the morning. 14 She lay at his feet until the morning. She rose up before one could discern another. For he said, Let it not be known that the woman came to the threshing floor. 15 He said, Bring the mantle that is on you, and hold it; and she held it; and he measured six [measures] of barley, and laid it on her: and he went into the city.

16 When she came to her mother-in-law, she said, Who are you, my daughter? She told her all that the man had done to her. 17 She said, These six [measures] of barley gave he me; for he said, "Don't go empty to your mother-in-law." 18 Then said she, "Sit still, my daughter, until you know how the matter will fall; for the man will not rest, until he has finished the thing this day."

4:1 Now Bo`az went up to the gate, and sat him down there: and, behold, the near kinsman of whom Bo`az spoke came by; to whom he said, Ho, such a one! turn aside, sit down here. He turned aside, and sat down. 2 He took ten men of the Zakenim of the city, and said, Sit you down here. They sat down. 3 He said to the near kinsman, Na`omi, who has come back out of the country of Mo'av, is selling the parcel of land, which was our brother Elimelekh's: 4 I thought to disclose it to you, saying, Buy it before those who sit here, and before the Zakenim of my people. If you will redeem it, redeem it: but if you will not redeem it, then tell me, that I may know; for there is none to redeem it besides you; and I am after you. He said, I will redeem it. 5 Then said Bo`az, What day you buy the field of the hand of Na`omi, you must buy it also of Rut the Mo'avite, the wife of the dead, to raise up the name of the dead on his inheritance. 6 The near kinsman said, I can't redeem it for myself, lest I mar my own inheritance: take my right of redemption on you; for I can't redeem it. 7 Now this was [the custom] in former time in Yisra'el concerning redeeming and concerning exchanging, to confirm all things: a man drew off his shoe, and gave it to his neighbor; and this was the [manner of] attestation in Yisra'el. 8 So the near kinsman said to Bo`az, Buy it for yourself. He drew off his shoe. 9 Bo`az said to the Zakenim, and to all the people, You are witnesses this day, that I have bought all that was Elimelekh's, and all that was Kilyon's and Machlon's, of the hand of Na`omi. 10 Moreover Rut the Mo'avite, the wife of Machlon, have I purchased to be my wife, to raise up the name of the dead on his inheritance, that the name of the dead not be cut off from among his brothers, and from the gate of his place: you are witnesses this day. 11 All the people who were in the gate, and the Zakenim, said, We are witnesses. The LORD make the woman who has come into your house like Rachel and like Le'ah, which two built the house of Yisra'el: and do you worthily in Efratah, and be famous in Beit-Lechem: 12 and let your house be like the house of Peretz, whom Tamar bore to Yehudah, of the seed which the LORD shall give you of this young woman. 13 So Bo`az took Rut, and she became his wife; and he went in to her, and the LORD gave her conception, and she bore a son. 14 The women said to Na`omi, Blessed be the LORD, who has not left you this day without a near kinsman; and let his name be famous in Yisra'el. 15 He shall be to you a restorer of life, and sustain you in your old age, for your daughter-in-law, who loves you, who is better to you than seven sons, has borne him. 16 Na`omi took the child, and laid it in her bosom, and became nurse to it. 17 The women her neighbors gave it a name, saying, There is a son born to Na`omi; and they named him `Oved: he is the father of Yishai, the father of David.

18 Now this is the history of the generations of Peretz: Peretz became the father of Hetzron, 19 and Hetzron became the father of Ram, and Ram became the father of `Amminadav, 20 and `Amminadav became the father of Nachshon, and Nachshon became the father of Salmon, 21 and Salmon became the father of Bo`az, and Bo`az became the father of `Oved, 22 and `Oved became the father of Yishai, and Yishai became the father of David.

NEW TESTAMENT: JOHN 4:43 - 54

4:43 After the two days he went forth from there and went into the Galil.

44 For Yeshua himself testified that a prophet has no honor in his own country.

45 So when he came into the Galil, the Galilim received him, having seen all the things that he did in Yerushalayim at the feast, for they also went to the feast.

46 Yeshua came therefore again to Kanah of the Galil, where he made the water into wine. There was a certain nobleman whose son was sick at Kafar-Nachum.

47 When he heard that Yeshua had come out of Yehudah into the Galil, he went to him, and begged him that he would come down and heal his son, for he was at the point of death.

48 Yeshua therefore said to him, "Unless you see signs and wonders, you will in no way believe."

49 The nobleman said to him, "Sir, come down before my child dies."

50 Yeshua said to him, "Go your way. Your son lives." The man believed the word that Yeshua spoke to him, and he went his way.

51 As he was now going down, his servants met him and reported, saying "Your child lives!"

52 So he inquired of them the hour when he began to get better. They said therefore to him, "Yesterday at the seventh hour, the fever left him."

53 So the father knew that it was at that hour in which Yeshua said to him, "Your son lives." He believed, as did his whole house.

54 This is again the second sign that Yeshua did, having come out of Yehudah into the Galil.

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that-cunning-mind · 5 years

Text

The Untitled Chuckie Sputterspark Origin Fanfic Pt.1

(Guess who wrote a fanfic for the first time in years lmao...

Read below if you want to see my take on how @based-ducks and me thought up of Quackervolt fankid Chuckie Sputterspark’s origin...somewhat)

As the crisp, evening air descended upon the moonlit shadows of St. Canard, a particular purplish protector of the poor found himself investigating a case of deductive interest. A case of shadowy intrigue and mystery. A case that would decide the future of St. Canard in its epic battle between good and evil.

A case of price gouging tickets at a pizza arcade.

“Twenty dollars for an adult ticket and twelve for kids over ten years old? Why these crooked capitalist crooks, thinking they can force parents to come in here and charge them extra! I should just quit SHUSH and open up one of these places myself! I’ll be richer than Glomgold!” Part-time superhero and full-time parent Drake Mallard grumbled under his breath as he handed over his card to the tired teenager manning the cashier. His daughter, Gosalyn, was busy putting on the paper bracelets on herself and her other father, Launchpad McQuack.

“It can’t be that profitable,” Gosalyn said, “I mean, they’re taking out all of their animatronics! Can you imagine Pepper Panda’s Pizza Pagoda without Pepper Panda and the Pie Gang? I tell ya, there’s gonna be rioting in the streets after tonight! RIOTS!!!” Launchpad, not expecting the outburst, startled and ripped his flimsy paper bracelet.

“Eheheh,” he laughed nervously, “you guys got any tape or...”

“Ten dollars to replace any missing or broken bracelets,” said the cashier.

Launchpad turned to his husband with big puppy-dog eyes, a method that tended to work about 99% of the time. Drake grumbled some more as he took a solitary bill out of his wallet.

“If it wasn’t for our case,” Drake whispered harshly as they walked inside the pizza eatery, “I’d leave you outside in the car.”

“Aww,” Launchpad pouted, “but you know how much I love coming here! Plus, I know how much the animatronics scare you, DW.”

Drake scoffed. “Scared? The daring duck detective isn’t scared of any cheaply-made robot! Drakey Mallard, on the other hand, never recovered from that time he thought Cheddar Charles was going to bite him at Elmo Sputterspark’s tenth birthday party.” As he spoke, a run down animatronic of a child-sized rat in blue overalls and a yellow shirt sprang to life, scaring Drake into Launchpad’s arms. Gosalyn just rolled her eyes and sighed.

A crackly speaker from the animatronic known as Cheddar Charles started. “Hey kids! Pepper Panda and Pie Gang’s Nighttime Spectacular is about to start in ten minutes! Grab a seat now!”

“I’ll go grab us a table,” yelled Gosalyn as she ran to a booth.

Launchpad let Drake climb off of him, then sniffed and wiped away a tear. “I can’t believe it, after forty years the Pie Gang is going away for good!”

“Launchpad, the case? Remember the case?” asked Drake.

“Buh-“

“We’re here to stakeout the joint and lie in wait for that nefarious thief, Dr. Anna Matronic! Dishonorably discharged from the Imagineers, that raving robotics rascal will be using the Pie Gang’s farewell show to unveil her deadly creations. Little does she know that I, Darkwing Duck, will be waiting for her! Now, any questions?”

“Uhh, can we order the extra-large with cheese?”

Drake simply sighed as he moved to sit down on the sticky seat.

“Gee DW, what makes you think she’ll show up with all these people around?” asked Launchpad.

“Because, as a former Imagineer, she’ll no doubt want to watch such a historic show one last time. Although, I can’t imagine what kind of psyche an adult must have to want to watch Pepper Panda and the Pie Gang willingly.”

———

“Come on Megsy! I’m not gonna miss Pepper Panda and the Pie Gang’s final performance because of you!”

Little did Darkwing Duck know that behind the scenes, his two mortal enemies Quackerjack and Megavolt would be attempting to watch the show as well. However, they were taking a break from their usual crimes and attempting to have their monthly date night, per Quackerjack’s insistence on coming to see the last hurrah of the animatronics he grew up watching. Megavolt, meanwhile, was trying to carry leftover pizza boxes up the scaffolding over the stage as he and Quackerjack prepared to take their seats.

“You know, I think I kinda remember coming here as a kid,” said Megavolt. Quackerjack was surprised to hear this, as it was rare for Megavolt to remember anything before his fateful transformation into Megavolt. He pressed on with a simple, “Oh?”, demonstrating a rare moment of selfless interest.

“Yeah,” Megavolt continued, “I think I had a birthday party here once. Mom forced me to invite everyone in my class, so I spent most of the day playing with the animatronics. I even got Cheddar Charles to almost bite this one duck, Jake. Or was it Lake...” Megavolt trailed off as his train of thought was derailed yet again.

“You must have been quite the kid growing up, a public nuisance in the making,” laughed Quackerjack. He looked off to the side in an almost wistful manner. “Though if I was a parent, I wouldn’t force you to hang out with any snot-nosed brats that stuck their faces into an arcade game!” Megavolt twitched, deciding not to tell Quackerjack that he definitely remembered sticking his face into arcade games as a kid, one of the happiest moments in an otherwise bullied childhood.

But more importantly, Megavolt picked up on Quackerjack’s wistful tone and cursed himself internally for bringing up his childhood. “Come on Quacky,” he whined, “we’ve been through this already. We can’t just-“

“Well, so what?” interrupted Quackerjack, “It’s just not fair! Lots of kids have parents that go to jail!”

“Yeah, but their parents aren’t criminal masterminds guilty of trespassing, theft, vandalism, and littering!”

Quackerjack pouted, “You throw a banana peel on the ground one time...”

“I’m serious Quacky,” Megavolt frowned, “we can’t just bring a kid into the super-villain business! Do you want to be like Dorkwing and have a pipsqueak get in our way?”

“Need I remind you,” hissed Quackerjack, “that his pipsqueak is fully capable of handling herself?”

“Ugh,” shuddered Megavolt, “don’t. Remind. Me. I still have the bruise marks from the last hostage attempt...”

“See?! The two of us could totally take care of a kid! All a kid really needs is food, a loving home, a pocket grenade...,” Quackerjack droned on, almost forgetting the point of his argument. Megavolt had to snap him back to reality if he was ever going to finish this conversation.

“Hey don’t get me wrong, it’d be nice to have some kids that aren’t just the poor, enslaved bulbs of St. Canard,” said Megavolt. “But, don’t tell me you aren’t the tiniest bit worried of screwing the kid up?” At this, Quackerjack pursed his lips and went uncharacteristically still, not daring to look at Megavolt in the eye.

“Besides,” Megavolt continued, “what if we go to jail without it? How would a normal kid protect itself? What if F.O.W.L or Negaduck found out about them and-“

“Oh alright fine! You’ve made your point, gloomy pants!” Megavolt shut his mouth quickly, turning to get a slice of week-old pizza and hopefully move on from this talk. Quackerjack pulled out his beloved Mr. Banana Brain, in an effort to calm himself before his temper took over. “Some date night this is! I’ve seen better chemistry in a high school science lab!”

“Butt out, banana boy!” Megavolt grumbled. “Great, could this date get any worse?”

The explosion that rocked the building answered that question.

———

The duck family ducked under their table as dust filled the room, sending screaming families in a panic. A giant hole had opened up in front of the stage, and from it rose a goose in a purple trench-coat honking maliciously. This was-

“Dr. Matronic!” Drake shielded Gosalyn behind himself as Dr. Matronic climbed onto the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she cried out, “children of all ages! To all who come to this happy place, Pepper Panda’s Pizza Pagoda is now MY Pizza Pagoda! Which means the animatronics are now mine to keep! Mwahonkhonkhonk!”

Gosalyn stuck out her tongue in disgust. “Ugh, you call that an evil laugh? A baby would sound more menacing than that!”

“Never mind that now,” said Drake, “we’ve got to get these people out of here! Launchpad, Gosalyn, evacuate the building while I keep her busy.” With a plan of action in place, the daring duck of mystery went off to find a broom closet to change in. Unfortunately, it was a very tight squeeze, as Drake tried to change and avoid the brooms at the same time.

“This night couldn’t possibly get worse...,” muttered Drake.

——

“Megavolt! That stupid doctor just ruined our date night!” Quackerjack’s temper had come out in full force, and now he was ready to let it all out.

“The nerve of some people! I mean, who breaks into a pizza parlor and steals the animatronics??” Megavolt yelled. Sparks started to fly as he locked onto the target of his ire, who was beginning to disassemble the helpless robots. “D’ohhh! Well at least it can’t get any worse.”

The blue smoke cloud that burst out answered that.

“Gah! Will you stop saying that!” shouted Quackerjack.

“I am the terror that flaps in the night!”

“I am the cheese pizza that burns on the taste buds of crime! I am Darkwing Duck!” Like clockwork, the purple caped crusader appeared out of the smoke.

“Oh no. It’s Darkwing Duck. Whatever shall I do,” said Dr. Matronic, not intimidated in the slightest. Failing to frighten his foe, Darkwing pulled out his gas gun as his mood worsened.

“Listen here doc! I may not like these rusty robots, but there’s no way I’ll let you take them away! Now suck gas, evildoer! Schpadoink!” As he shot off a canister of knockout gas, a Dalmatian puppy came out from behind Dr. Matronic and caught the canister, throwing it away from the doctor.

“What the-!”

“So,” Dr. Matronic grinned maliciously, “you don’t like rusty robots, eh? Well, I’m sure you’ll find that they have their uses!” Dr. Matronic pulled a walkie-talkie from her coat, and yelled, “Code 101: ATTACK!!”

From the crevice, a noise of barking and howling approached, growing louder and louder until from out of the hole, one hundred robotic Dalmatians came bursting out.

Darkwing gulped, hoping to hide his nervousness. “Alright, you digital dog deviants, prepare to face the might of Dark-AAAACK!!” The dogs never let him finish, immediately pouncing on Darkwing and biting everything that belonged to the flapping terror.

“WHAT IS IT WITH YOU AND DALMATIANS!!!”

“Well, since you’re tied up at the moment, I might as well explain my origin story,” said Dr. Matronic as she got to work detaching the Pie Gang from the stage. “You see, those Imagineer fools said it was impossible to make one hundred and one animatronics! They said it was too expensive! That I was a lunatic! Well who’s laughing now, huh?! Mwahonkhon-AHH!”

Before the doctor could finish her evil laugh, a bolt of electricity from behind the stage curtain zapped her and sent her flying off the stage. In her hands she grasped the Cheddar Charles figurine, the remote controlling the chaotic canines flying off somewhere else.

Megavolt stepped out onto the stage, a wide manic grin on his face as his hands lit up. “Well, looks like we’re the ones laughing now, and much better at it too! Aheeheeheeheee!” With a flick of a wrist, Megavolt shot another electric bolt at the pack of piranha-like puppies, putting a stop to their attack on the poor, punctured defender in purple as they scattered off.

“Th-thanks for that...Megavolt,” Darkwing said shakily, as he attempted to stand up and not jostle his wounds at the same time. “Wait a minute, WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?! I swear, if that lunatic toy-maker Quackerjack is here too I’ll-“

What Darkwing would do, Megavolt would never know, for at that moment Quackerjack decided to introduce himself with one of his patented exploding toys. Laughing maniacally, he took out his signature mallet as he attempted to stomp out any robot trying to attack him. Dr. Matronic began turning her attention towards the most annoying threat in the room, directing robot after robot at Quackerjack.

“What, did all the freaks decide to come out tonight?!” yelled Dr. Matronic, as she whipped out a small flamethrower aimed at Quackerjack. The jester merely giggled and blew raspberries as he dodged all of her flame attacks. Darkwing and Megavolt, however, were not as lucky, and had to hide behind an overturned table to avoid the flames.

“Oh great,” sighed Darkwing, “the cherry on top of my already lousy sundae. Could this possibly get any worse?” Megavolt let out a yipe and braced himself.

“Uhh, you alright there Mega-,” asked Darkwing, before Megavolt clasped a hand around his bill.

“Don’t say that again! The universe has been more vindictive than usual today whenever somebody says that!”

“Alright alright, I’ll stop! Now, either help get me rid of this riddle-some ridicule of our rights, or GET OUT!” Megavolt’s train of thought got back on track, his temper overtaking him as he remembered his terrible night.

“Uhh, Sparky-“ said Darkwing, before a stray bolt from Megavolt zapped him away as the electric rodent turned back to Dr. Matronic.

“YOU RUINED DATE NIGHT!!!” roared Megavolt. Darkwing was dumbfounded, for once Megavolt hadn’t responded to his hated nickname of Sparky. Dr. Matronic began to worry, as she was inexperienced against the full force of the Quackervolt duo. Darkwing stepped back, hoping to get the upper hand as the villains fought each other when who should appear but Gosalyn.

“Don’t worry Darkwing, I’ll help ya!” cried Gosalyn.

“Gosalyn, NO!” Darkwing dived towards his daughter, shielding her from the wayward flames with his cape as he caught the full brunt of the attack. Dr. Matronic took the time to gloat evilly at her fallen foe.

“Well well well, guess the Pizza Pagoda is serving roast duck tonight! MWAHAHAHAH! How’s that for an evil laugh, by the way?” In her distraction, she failed to notice Megavolt and Quackerjack charging up the remaining animatronics, bringing them back to life.

“Hey lady, ever heard of the Bite of ‘87!?” they both yelled.

“The Bite of ‘87? That’s just a-“ Dr. Matronic looked back and saw the looming, terrifying animatronics trudging towards her. She gulped.

“...Just a myth,” she finished quietly.

As the robots began their attack, Launchpad came in and helped Darkwing to his feet. “Gee DW, how’re we gonna stop those three?”

“Oww, can’t we jus’...let ‘em kill each other?” Darkwing meekly asked.

Gosalyn, guilty over her father’s second degree burns, tried to remember about any useful information pertaining to the animatronics.

“Well, I read online that old robots used to explode from time to time...” she suggested. Inspiration struck Darkwing, reaching into his pockets for a special gas canister.

“Launchpad, hand me my gas gun!” With his weapon in hand, Darkwing loaded up the canister and aimed between the animatronics. “Get behind that column,” he motioned.

Megavolt, taking a break from the action that was almost too exciting to put in words, took a side glance to see Darkwing’s fan club hiding behind a concrete column. As he wondered what was going on, the duck pulled out his gas gun and yelled, “hey Dr. Matronic, see if your pooches can stop this knockout gas!”

Darkwing shot out the canister towards the animatronics and quickly took cover. As planned, Dr. Matronic took aim with her flamethrower, unable to tell the difference between knockout gas and explosive gas.

FWOOSH!

KABAM!!

“SHPOOSH-“

“Dad! Do ya have t’ make sound effects right now?”

“Oh, right, sorry,” Darkwing sheepishly said. “Well, better make sure no one died or anything.” As the smoke dissipated, he could see Dr. Matronic knocked out on the ground, singed and certainly not triumphant. Quackerjack, who had tried to run from the explosion, was somehow still standing, albeit close to passing out at any second. Behind them, all of the animatronics were nothing more than scrap, their somewhat cute faces now melted and resembling characters in a subpar horror video game franchise.

Megavolt was nowhere to be seen.

“Uh-oh, Megavolt?” The prospect of being arrested for manslaughter began to unnerve Darkwing. “Hey Quackster, you seen your boyfriend anywhere?”

The only thing Quackerjack heard through his concussion was ‘Megavolt’, and tried to snap out of his daze as best as he could.

“Megsy! Sparky-poo, where are you!? Ooooh, I’m gonna get you for this Darkwing Duck!” But before Quackerjack could get him, the sound of police sirens could be heard in the distance.

“Mmm, but maybe not today,” said Quackerjack, and then took out Mr. Banana Brain. “Time to hit the road, Toad,” he said in a falsetto voice.

“MEGAVOLT! See you at the hideout!” And Quackerjack ran backstage, toppling over Launchpad who had attempted to catch him.

“Ah geez, sorry DW, he got away. Should we go after him?”

“Nah,” said Darkwing, “I’ve got enough on my plate with Miss Robot over here. Also I gotta make sure Megavolt didn’t explode or something,...”

“Ughhh,” groaned Dr. Matronic, “that’s DOCTOR- wait. The animatronics! What have you done to them you fiend?!” Before she could freak out entirely, the police came in, slapping handcuffs on her and leading her away.

“Why I say I say, ah-thank you Mr. Duck sir.”

The team looked back and saw a rotund rooster in a tacky pizza print suit come up to them, taking Darkwing’s hand and shaking it profusely. “I am the owner of this here establishment, Rolan N. Dough the Third, thought you may call me Mr. Dough. I must congratulate you sir on a job well done!”

“Ah-yep, yep, yep, all in a day’s work for Darkwing Duck, Mr. Dough!”

“So you’re not mad that he blew up your animatronics?” piped up Gosalyn. Darkwing hurriedly placed his hand over her bill, “Gosalyn! Ix-nay on the obot-ray! Ahaha, kids...”

“On the contrary, Mr. Duck, I’m overjoyed! Thanks to you, I’m gonna save a fortune on properly preserving those robotic freaks! And receive a rather sizable insurance check! A nice little profit for today’s events!”

Darkwing soured, remembering his distaste for the Pizza Pagoda once more. “You’re welcome, sir.”

“I simply must reward you! How does a coupon for a free pizza sound?”

Launchpad’s stomach rumbled at the sound of that. “Gee DW, can we cash it in now?”

Darkwing sighed, “Fine, fine, we’re not coming back here anytime soon.”

As Launchpad and Mr. Dough made their way to the pizza station, Darkwing crouched down to check on Gosalyn for any injuries.

“You ok?” he asked. “I mean, aside from seeing your favorite pizzeria in ruins that is?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, “I’m just sad the Pie Gang met their end like that.”

“Well it’s an Italian eatery owned by a Southerner themed around China, it was bound to end horribly. You gotta admit though, it was a pretty cool explosion.”

“Okay yeah, it was pretty cool. I mean the way that flamethrower just went GWOOSH and the canister was like SCHPAAAAM! Not too bad from Darkwing and his helpful sidekicks, huh?”

“Oh, that reminds me, you’re still in trouble for running in like that.”

“WHAT? Daaa-uh, I mean, Darkwiiiing!” The two walked away, preparing to stop Launchpad from spending more than $50 on pizza.

“Hmm, I feel like I’m forgetting something though,” said Darkwing.

“Ah well, I’m sure it was nothing important,” reassured Gosalyn.

———

In the subterranean hole where Dr. Matronic had come from, Megavolt had begun to regain consciousness, slowly sitting up as he willed the surroundings to stop spinning.

“Owwww, that’s it, next date night will be at the mini golf...”

From below, he could hear the faint voice of Quackerjack at hysterics, then fading away. Then he heard the shrill voice of Dr. Matronic screaming over the ruined animatronics. Megavolt perked up, remembering the explosion with clarity now.

“NO NO NO! The animatronics! Darkwing Duck and that stupid doctor lady ruined my childhood! This is worse than that reboot of my favorite movie with an all-female cast! Why I oughta-OW!!”

In his rage, Megavolt failed to notice an object in his path, and stubbed his already fragile toe against it. He was prepared to blast it to smithereens, when he noticed something familiar about the object.

Something metallic.

“Wait...it can’t be,” he muttered. He crouched down, digging through the rubble until the object was set free. It was Cheddar Charles, banged up a little but perfectly intact.

“Oh you poor thing,” Megavolt cooed, “you must’ve fallen down here after that mean old Darkwing blew us up!” He cradled the orphaned robotic mouse in his arms, feeling his paternal instinct flare up as he gently dusting the dirt off of it. A ghost of a childhood memory panged within him, recalling a time in his life when he felt safe and loved, unaware of the harsh realities of life that would face him later on.

Was it too insane to believe that he could pass that love on to something else?

He loved Quackerjack. He loved his life of lightbulb liberation. But if Megavolt was honest with himself, maybe there was something nice to the whole family concept. Maybe the idea of taking care of something and watching it grow with someone he loved seemed exciting to him. Maybe Darkwing had the right idea about having a kid sidekick-

Nope. It’d be a cold, day in Hell before Megavolt would admit to being jealous of Darkwing Duck.

He took out one of his trusty light bulbs to illuminate the scene, when an idea came to him.

“Wait a minute,” he said, “Quacky and I want a kid. This little guy doesn’t have a family anymore. That means...that means! Wait, where was I going with this?”

The Cheddar Charles let out a shock, charging up Megavolt once more.

“Oh right! Welcome to the family, new son! This is gonna turn out way better than that time I split Darkwing into two.” He took his son into his arms, already bonding with the temporarily lifeless robot.

“But ya know, Cheddar Charles is kinda long for a name. How about I call you...Chuckie!”

------

Meanwhile, on the other side of town…

“OH MY GOD,” cried out Drake Mallard, “I BLEW UP MEGAVOLT!”

#darkwing duck #quackerjack #megavolt #quackervolt #drake mallard #gosalyn mallard #launchpad mcquack #implied drakepad #my stuffs #fanfic #chuckie sputterspark #one of these oc's is actually #canon to the dwd lore #can y'all guess who it is lol #this took me way too long pfft

37 notes · View notes

lee-vc · 5 years

Text

Balance AU: Impulsive

It’s been a year since Link and Gadni arrived in South Gerudo Town from the Western Wastelands…

At first, things had been tough. Although Link had been dressed in nothing but rags when they arrived, Gadni had been clad in fine armor and jewels, all of which he managed to pawn off for a high price at the marketplace. It was enough to get them a small home on the outer circles of town with enough left over to stock up on some food and supplies. Unfortunately, since then their finances have been...struggling. Gadni took small jobs where he could but they didn’t pay that much. He had thought about taking up bounties from the village request board but he was met with 2 obstacles.

The first being that, since he was young and didn’t have the money to get good equipment, no one wished to hire him to even take out the weakest of monsters.

The 2nd being that the people considered him and Link “outsiders.” Yes, Gadni was clearly Gerudo and Link was but a child, but they were still unknown to the people of South Gerudo Town. No one had heard of Gerudo orphans being stolen in the night by raiders and they certainly never heard of the “Fon” family before. They were never outright rude toward the boys but still, that label made it difficult for him to even get an apprenticeship with anyone.

Still, he had to admit that, for now at least, taking bounties to fight monsters might be a bad idea. Without proper gear there was a very real possibility of him dying on out in the desert if he ever came across something he wasn’t prepared for like a Electric Lizafos or worse, a Molduga. Then Link would be left with no one to care for him...

So he stuck with his series of small jobs while trying to come up with a better way to make money. As for Link, well..he seemed fine enough. Or least Gadni made sure he was. He never let on to him whenever they were having money troubles. Gadni made sure that Link had good clothes, was always clean and well fed, even if it meant that he had to skip out on a few meals with their money was tight. He was just a orphaned boy in a strange land, he had enough problems.

Though Gadni was starting to think that Link was catching on to things. He’d often find Link following him to his different jobs to keep him company and even help out with more menials tasks where he could. And, to be honest, Gadni was glad for it. Link made him smile with how upbeat and optimistic the boy could be. He was full of energy and was always trying to come up with stupid jokes in effort to make Gadni laugh. It lifted his spirits. The same couldn’t be said about Link’s...impulsive nature though…

He couldn’t understand how a boy THAT SMALL could get into so much trouble! He couldn’t tell if the boy was incredibly brave or incredibly stupid with some of the stunts he’s pulled! Like the time he ate an entire SPOONFUL of Goron spice on a dare and spent the next half hour drinking water to try and douse the fire in his mouth. Or the time Link accidentally angered a horde of cuccos by stepping on one of them, resulting in both he AND Gadni running for their lives when Link tried hiding behind the larger man. And Gadni couldn’t BEGIN to count the amount of times Link had come home with a fresh bruise or scrape from the fights he would pick with some of the older kids whenever they’d tease him for being “Pig Skinned.”

As much as Gadni cared for the boy, he also drove him crazy with his antics. Which is why he relished every quiet moment he could get.

“Long day…?” A female voice asked him.

Gadni looked up and saw a Gerudo women looking down at him, smirking and holding a bottle of Hydromelon juice and two cups in hand. He let out a long sigh and took the cup she offered, watching as she poured them each a cupful before sitting beside him.

“No...just thinking…”

“You sure you’re not just constipated…?”

“Ha ha, very funny, Vanya…”

Vanya was one of Gadni and Link’s neighbors. She lived with her elderly father was one of the first people to actually welcome the boys to the town. She was laid back and a bit of a smart ass but instantly warmed up to the boys after Link blurted out that she was “really pretty and hey are you looking for a boyfriend? My Gadni is GREAT!” He swore that boy had a broken filter as well…

Vanya had been one of their only friends in the town. She’d lend them money and never ask for it back, would bring by food and drinks (A LOT of drinks).She even gave them matching belt buckles and a small amber amulet for Link that she made herself. Which Link refused to take off, even when he slept...which Gadni found really cute to be honest..

“Heheh...Well, fix your face then! You look like you just smelled the wrong end of a Molduga…” She joked before taking a sip of her juice. But she soon grimaced at the taste then wrapped her free hand around the bottle. “Ugh...it went WARM...just great…” She complained before pouring her drink out on the sandstone.

An easy fix for Gadni. He simply took the bottle in his hand and a small blue-ish glow surrounded both. “Here...should be better now…” He poured them both a new drink and his friend, after having a taste, was pleasantly surprised to find the drink now perfectly chilled and tasting much better now.

“Oh yeah, I forgot you could do magic! Hahah...you know, I keep telling you, you could make good money off of that…”

“I already told you, no…”

“Ugh...come on! You know how RARE it is to have Magic-users in these parts of Hyrule? Plus, if you showed it off a little more, you could get more work in killing monster...even WITHOUT a blade...”

“NO, Vanya...I don’t want to use my magic like that…” That would make him too noticeable to certain people..

But, knowing his stubborn friend, she wasn’t gonna let this go. They’ve had this conversation countless times before and even had fights about it. He honestly couldn’t understand WHY she was so invested in what he did with his life and his skills. It wasn’t like him choosing not to use his magic to fight was hurting her in any way. Part of him knew that she was just worried about him and Link...and he appreciated it...but that was also part of the problem.

He KNEW he could easily wipe out an entire horde of monsters using just his magic alone. Hell, he could even destroy a Molduga with his magic. But using that great of a power would cause people to talk...and rumors spread far and fast...that was the last thing he needed right now…

Vanya huffed, crossing her arms in frustration and twiddling with her earring...then a thought popped into her head…

“Okay look...I don’t understand why you don’t want to fight monsters using your magic, even though it’d get you ALOT of rupees that way...but if you insist on being PASSIVE about it...why not open a jewelry shop then?”

That was new….jewelry?

“...why jewelry?”

Vanya smirked. “Think about it...more and more monsters have been popping up lately in the desert which mean people will want more protection. You can use your magic to make Enchanted jewelry for people and open your own shop! We don’t have a jewelry shop here in South Gerudo town yet! I can design them for you, you enchant them with magic and boom! You have a steady income!”

Gadni downed his entire drink before pouring himself another. That actually wasn’t a bad idea...it would take a lot of work but...maybe it could work--

“GAAADNI!!!”

They both nearly dropped their drinks as Link suddenly tackled himself into Gadni’s arms. Link looked scuffed up and had a newly forming bruise on his left cheek. A group of distance laughter answered the question of what happened without him even having to ask.

The Zaburo Siblings. They were a group of young pre-teen Gerudos who were, for lack of a better word, quite bratty. Their families were quite wealthy and they seemed to enjoy tormenting the other children. Link most likely got into another fight with them while defending another child from their antics.

Sighing, Gadni lifted Link’s chin so he could examine the damage. His cheeks were red with anger and his eyes glimmering with the threat of tears. Something that was rare for the boy. He never cried after a fight, what he really hurt?!

“Link what happened? Tell me.”

“They started it!! They were teasing Naboni about his freckles and I told them to stop but then they pushed me and started calling me names and then Hakan punched me and then his sister broke the amber pendant that Vanya made for me!”

“What?!” Vanya slammed her drink down. Now he understood why Link was so upset. A quick glance down at his young wards necklace, he finally noticed that the amber piece was indeed missing. A not too far from them, the 3 brats were standing across the street, giggling and snickering at the near-to-tears boys. Now, Gadni was far above such immaturity but he so wanted to take those children over his knee one of these days and wipe those arrogant smirks off their faces. But no. He was an adult so he had to settle this calmly and maturely--

“Well you should go right over there and defend your Honor Link!” And then Vanya proceed to do the opposite. Link wiped away the few tears that did fall from his face, looking up at the woman. “M-My honor…?”

“Yes! First they insult your name then they steal from you! You need to stand up to them and show them that you will not take such insults lightly! You’re going to grow up to be a brave warrior someday, right?”

Gadni had no chance to speak up before Link rushed from his arms and stood before Vanya, a growing smile on his face. “Y-Yeah! I’m gonna go up to be as big and strong as Gani one day!”

“That’s right you are!” Vanya continued, placing her well manicured hands on Link’s shoulders. “And when a warrior is dishonored, what do they do!?”

“They FIGHT for it!”

“Are you a strong voe?”

“Yeah…!”

“Are you a gonna be a strong warrior?!”

“YEAH…!”

“Then fight like one and go get your honor back! Let those kids they can’t push you around like that!!”

“YEAH!! Oh...I’ve got just the thing..!! Be right back!!”

As Link rushed into their doorway of their home, Gadni stood up to call after him but was stopped by Vanya holding onto his wrist. “Why do you encourage him like that? You know, I’m starting to think YOU’RE half the reason why he’s always getting into fights!”

“Gadni, he’s almost gonna be a teenager soon..you can’t coddle him forever, he had to be able to learn how to fight for himself!”

The larger man plopped back onto the bench, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “That’s not the point--”

A rush of blond hair zoomed past them, hiding something within the confines of his top. The bratty trio watched as Link stood before them, a look of determination on his face.

“Oh look, little Pig Skin is back for more…”

“You gonna cry again little Voe? Hehehe..”

“I...I’m here to defend my honor!! Y-You’ve insulted me so now I’m gonna defend myself like a WARRIOR!”

The older boy laughed as he leaned toward his younger sister. “Listen to him...little Piggy thinks he’s a warrior...what you got little Piggy? A stick..? Hehahaha!”

“No! I-I’ve got a--ah...I’ve got..!! Agh, come on, what are you caught on!?”

Gadni and Vanya watched as Link dropped to his knees, fiddling with something in his hands. Gadni couldn’t see what he was having trouble with though since Link had his back to them...but he had a sneaking suspicion it was something Link wasn’t supposed to have…

That night, Gadni had a long and detailed conversation with Link why he needed to reign in his impulsive…

And that he couldn’t just pull KNIVES on CHILDREN!!

_____________________________________________________________

I will DEFINITELY be doing more in the future, this was a lot of fun!! I hope you guys enjoy it! This was originally a scene I had in mind when this was gonna be an AU of the @linkeduniverse AU but after it become my own AU, I still really wanted to do it! LOL

#LOL #All this just a meme joke #I love that video tbh #sorry not sorry #Zelda #Zelda AU #Balance AU #Link #Gerudo #Gerudo Voe #Gerudo Vai #Link has no chill #the boys a menace #meme #a knife

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gildedtma · 5 years

Photo

you think you are so much STRONGER than me because THE EARTH quivers beneath your feet && your voice shakes the rain from the trees , but you forget that inside this fragile body of mine is a SOUL AS OLD AS ROME && A TONGUE THAT CUTS LIKE A WHIP .

PROLOGUE . THE FALL.

DARK STORMCLOUDS PAINT THE SKY BLACK , the olympians gather around to witness the disgrace of one of their own . the younger ones cower at the sight of their king standing in his full divinity , turning their heads to look away , unable to stand the sight. their elders , bring a hand to their mouths to cover their yawns , time was due for their beloved sun god to fall. every few centuries , daring to push their king past his limits , refusing to subject himself to take a knee . golden suns stare down the eye of the storm , challenging the mighty zeus’s authority && stature.

he is not afraid of it anymore , when his father points his master bolt straight at apollo’s chest , he has a moment of relief before the pain seeps in. skull - shattering thunder ripping through his mind until he can no longer hear his thoughts. lightning forking across the sky strikes him where he stands and as the ichor is burned away from his veins , the younger god lets out one last cry before crashing down to his knees . he tears through the marbled floors of olympus , falling straight through the clouds with nothing but gaea’s earth to soften his fall.

ACT I. THE PROPHECY

when he opens his eyes , it is as any other day. warm brown eyes gloss over his reflection in the mirror , and he gets ready for work. an unwavering routine that he does not stray from for six months.

he can hear their voices from the other side of the cafe. three women , dressed more elegant than the place called for , capture the light from the room. they are the only ones he notices. their beauty extending to the entire vicinity , moving in a synchronicity that he swears must be a trick of the eye. their voices snake across the room , slithering into his ears incomprehensible. he wants to know what they are saying , because even behind their dark glasses , he knows they are staring at him.

his feet move before his mind , and he stands at their table , “ hello , ladies. ” the words fall from his mouth as easily as greeting old friends. “ i’m damien , i’m your server , what can i get you to drink ? ” he plasters a smile across his face to conceal the wince that overcomes him at the sound of his name . as bitter as a lie , it burns a hole through his tongue. damien , damien , damien . no matter how many times he says it , it never sounds less nauseating.

the first one speaks , her arm coming to wrap around his wrist , “ it’s nice to meet you , damien. ” she shares a look with the other two , and they laugh beside him. he tries to pull away from her , but he is frozen where he stands , her delicate grasp anchoring him to the ground. “ i’m moira , and these are my sisters , faith && cleo. ”

the one in the middle meets his glare and spreads her painted-red lips into a wide grin. she whispers something into her sister’s ear and she releases his wrist. letting out a breath , he takes a few steps back , opening his mouth to speak , the last one steals the words right from his lips and he cannot remember how to breathe let alone form words. quiet.

the rest of the world fades away and unison they remove their glasses , and show him the truth. the three of them see through one eye , occupied by the one in the middle , the other two stare at him with empty sockets. they offer him a glimpse into their eye and the vision takes him over.

this storm has only just begun.

but these clouds cannot hide the truth for long , light bringer.

the sun must always rise.

he is almost afraid to move , but the words are already fading from his mind and he does not wish to forget them. digging through his apron for a notepad , he starts to scribble down their every words.

the vision fades and he glances down at the words scrawled onto his notepad , clinging to their words like one clings to hope , something begins to awake inside of him. a word , on the tip of his tongue. a fire begins to regain momentum , and is extinguished all in the span of a breath , for when he looks down , he only has two words written : LIGHT BRINGER.

and the women are gone.

ACT II. THE QUEST.

his dreams bring him to the beach , hands digging into the warm sand as he waits for the sun to rise from the water and breach the horizon. he stares a while , letting his eyes wander to the expanse that stretches to the end of the world.

“ it is not coming. ” a disembodied voice tethers itself to the earth and finds home beside him. where there was nothing , was now a dove that was a woman. fair and beautiful , it almost hurts to look at her. there are tears falling from her eyes , but when she turns to him her face lights into a smile. “ the sun has not risen in a while , and i’m beginning to miss it. ”

“ of course it’s coming , it’s the sun , it�� can’t just not be there. ”

“ look for yourself , damien , there is nothing there. ”

his eyes find the horizon and he cannot believe the sight in front of him. she is right , there is nothing. it is not there. where it should be is nothing but an empty space. he opens his mouth and whispers , “ where is it ? ”

next to him , beauty smiles and places her hand on his , “ it’s gone. it’s gone and you must find it. ”

“ why me ? ”

when she lays her eyes upon him the sorrow that falls upon her face breaks his heart in two . to make tears fall from such beautiful eyes should be a crime , and he wishes to fix it , “ my darling , you really do not remember ? ---- this cursed storm is worse than the last. ” anger flashes behind beautiful eyes and he remembers the myths about her being war’s lover.

“ it must be you. you are the only one that knows where it is. ”

“ i don’t know where to look. ”

“ just follow the path it took to get here. ”

ACT III. THE PATH OF LETO.

even so far did leto, in birth-pangs with the far-shooter, wander to seek a land willing to serve as a home for her dear son.

over the people who dwell in crete and the district of athens, also the isle of aigína and galley-renownèd euboía, aigai, Eíresiaí, and Pepárethos, close to the sea-brine, also thracian athos and pelion’s towering summits, thracian samos as well, and the shadowy highlands of ida, Skyros as well as Phokaía, the highland of steep Autokánè also, and firm-set Imbros and inhospitable Lemnos, sacred Lesbos, the dwelling of Makar, Aíolos’ scion, also Chios, the brightest of islands that lie in the sea-brine, Mimas, rugged and rocky, and Kórykos’ towering summits, shimmering Klaros as well, and the highland of steep Aisagéa, also watery Samos and Mýkalè’s steep high headland, they were all dreadfully trembling and fearful, and none of them dared to take in phoibos the lord, not even the richest among them, not until finally leto the lady, arriving on delos,

his feet fall to the island , desolate and barren. devoid of life and all that it was ever promised. something primordial stirs inside of him , a vicious cloud fogging his memories , but the offset feeling is deep in his bones . he falls to his knees and takes a fistful of dry and rocky sand and lets it slip through his fingers , “ what happened to you ? ”

the earth speaks back to him , cries of agony spread through the air , killing anything that dares to grow in this wretched , god-forsaken place. nothing could survive here , not even the blessed date-palm tree that had overseen the birth of delos’ god. my far - shooter , apollo , thy delian king has abandoned me ! i have known the day would come . i gave him a home , but he has disgraced it for something with more beauty. from the moment the fairest leto had descended upon me , on hands and knees begging me to house her son , i had known he would dishonor me because i am rugged and rocky. overturn me with his feet , thrust me to the depths of the seabrine , he would go to another land , one that would please him. the ground shakes with earth-wracking sobs at the rejection from it’s greatest treasure.

damien cannot move from his spot , staring at the island with pure horror. this was not right ! rage boils inside of him , and he lays his palm flat on the ground , “ i will find apollo. i will find him and i will make him fix this. ” the earth quakes settle but he does not rise , grieving a moment , all the life that has been taken from this place.

ACT IV. THE RECLAIMING

chaos has sprung in his absence. expunged plagues resurfacing after generations , the clouds refusing the give way to the light. hope in the mortal’s eyes have dimmed and their muses no longer sing for them. oh , but worst of all , has a creature sprung. from the depths of tartarus , the last of gaea’s children ascend back to the mortal world , and reclaims home from the ruins of the greatest temple man has ever built.

it is his last hope , standing in front of what used to be the temple of apollo. it is the last place he has to look for this missing god. his feet crunch over the pebbles and lying among the rubble is no god.

bigger than his memories could fathom , it curls around a fallen tripod and the earth beneath it dies. his head alone the size of damien’s entire body , moving faster than the winds that brought him here , it’s voice slithering down his spine reminds him of the women from the coffee shop.

“ have you come to reclaim your temple , phoebus. ” the word spat like venom from a forked tongue , “ go ahead , try. ”

“ i want no trouble with you , i merely seek out the god apollo. ”

the snake raises it’s head at that , coming to loom right above the mortal standing in front of him , he whispers so the heavens cannot hear , “ tsk , tsk. such a radiant thing so pathetically condemned. look no further , you have found him. ”

he doesn’t understand. he saw nothing but the creature in front of him whose name could not have been apollo. he opens his mouth to speak , but the great creature did not give him a chance. faster than lightning , it strikes him , teeth digging into the flesh of his leg , and spitting out the iron that falls from his wound.

“ this was so much more fun the last time was it not ? your blood no longer tastes so sweet , ” despite such words , it attacks again , springing into motion and sinking it’s fangs into his shoulder , spreading venom through his veins , “ i want gold , gold , gold . ”

the loss of blood begins to cloud his thoughts. everything that he had thought he’d known falling from his grasp as he crashes to the ground. palms digging into the dirt pushing himself onto his elbows , he is barely able to dodge the next attack from the creature above him as it digs it’s teeth into the ground where he had been only a breath before.

he brings his hands to his side and presses against the wound spilling into his clothes , and when he pulls his fingers back his hands are covered in molten gold. the voice of a woman fills his ears and the two words she speaks awakens the force deep inside of him : KNOW THYSELF.

his lungs need more air than they are capable of holding. sucking in through his teeth , the gold melting from his skin is beginning to boil. flowing as fiery as the phlegethon , it spreads from his hands to the ends of his toes. brown eyes begin to glow with the light from the sun as the clouds begin to part. sun rays stretch from the sky to the spot he lays on the ground and forms a gilded blade that sits in his hands. a sword forged from the sun gleams brighter than the light reigniting behind his eyes. it is still hot to the touch , but he accepts the pain as his fingers wrap around the hilt. he does not have time to think before the hissing voice of the python grows closer to him.

he swings the broadsword into a large golden arch and he invokes the strength of a millennia. the sun burns the sky behind him as light is brought back to the earth , with the force of a thousand stars , he brings the sword down and slices the giant snake’s head clean off. it writhes and seizes before it dies , letting out a simmering hiss as tartarus reclaims dominion over the escaped infernal creature.

his shoulders heave up and down as he wipes the beads of sweat falling from his face. his strength returns to him slowly and the skin torn by giant teeth begins to reform together. he walks up to the temple , and remembers it fondly in it’s glory. two words inscribed in stone reflect back in his mind. golden eyes find the sun in the sky , and his glare only sharpens , “ i am phoebus apollo , the god of light , and i remember everything. ”

#ok i did it #i don't think anyone is going to actually read all of this #but this is what i got for apollo's mortal verse #︱ ☼ walking in the footsteps of gods. // v. mortal.

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queenofcats17 · 5 years

Text

Speaking of Death

I already wrote my version of Hel meeting @insane-control-room‘s Demigod Bertram, but I wanted to write her meeting @randomwriteronline‘s cryptid Eska. So here we go.

Featuring Control’s Bertram briefly.

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The creature now known as Eska knew death. The Spirit of Violent Deaths was a friend to him, after all. And he wasn’t scared of death. Not like other people were. It would hurt, yes, but it provided a sort of peaceful relief at the end of a troubled life. Like his. It was the inevitable end to all things. Eventually, everything was going to die. Die and return to the Earth.

He had seen the woman Bertram said was the goddess Hel come and go. He’d seen her appear from the ground and disappear the same way. Sometimes she brought a dog with her. The dog had an incredibly powerful aura around it, but Eska still wanted to pet it. It was so small and fluffy. Most of the time she came to see Bertram and/or Lacie. She seemed softer when around them.

Today, though, it seemed she was here for Eska. When Bertram arrived in his office, she was waiting with Garm in her arms. Bertram wasn’t even surprised anymore. She just tended to show up.

“I wish to speak to the boy in the skull mask.” She said.

The one with the two different eyes. Garm clarified, as if there was another boy in a skull mask in the studio.

“I don’t believe I’m the one you should ask about that.” Bertram sat down at his desk, shuffling some papers. “If you wish to speak with him, you should go and speak with him.”

“Is he not a friend of yours?” Hel asked.

“Not...particularly,” Bertram replied slowly. “I’m not terribly close to him.”

“Ah, alright.” Hel’s face fell a bit. She’d come to the studio a lot, but she hadn’t ventured outside of Bertram’s work area too often. She didn’t know where anything was or where anyone would be.

“If you want to find him, I’d look in the Heavenly Toys area on level P,” Bertram suggested, sensing her disorientation. “He often stays near to Kim and Niamh.”

Who are those people? Garm demanded. Their names mean nothing to us.

“Kim is the small dark-skinned toymaker and Niamh is the one with the octopus tattoo on her back,” Bertram said. “I can assure you, you will know Niamh is around long before you see her.”

“Alright.” Hel stood up, clutching Garm a bit tighter. “Thank you. I may or may not be back.”

“Best of luck!” Bertram called after her.

It took a bit for her to find the Heavenly Toys area. After a little bit of aimless wandering, an employee politely asked if she was lost. Once she told them where she was going, they were able to point her in the right direction. She was halfway to the area when she suddenly felt a presence to her right. She turned to the vent beside her to find a pair of orange and blue eyes staring at her from a vent.

“Hello, Eska.”

Eska didn’t reply, continuing to watch her from the vent. The vent wasn’t all that dark, and Hel could see even in the pitch black, but only his eyes were visible. The rest of his body was just gone.

“Could I speak with you?” She asked. “If you wouldn’t mind. I sense you’re connected with death, and I must admit, it has been a bit since I spoke with another death entity.” There was a beat of silence before Eska replied.

“...Okay.” He slithered out of the vent, falling to the ground like a ragdoll before standing up. He started to walk away and Hel followed.

He led her to a secluded room that didn’t look like it got much use. There were a table and some chairs, so it seemed that this was some sort of secret hideout. Eska turned to say something but stopped. His eyes were fixed now on Garm, still nestled in Hel’s arms.

“Is something wrong?” Hel asked.

“I pet him.” Eska pointed at Garm, eyes wide. Hel looked down at Garm, who made a very human grumbling sound.

Very well. He may pet me. Garm braced himself to be manhandled, but Eska’s touch was gentle. His long, deft fingers carded through Garm’s fur, finding just the right places to scratch. Garm’s eyes almost rolled back in his head from sheer bliss.

Oooh. Oh yes. Yes, that is the spot. Up. Up! Oooooh. He started to excitedly pant as Eska settled down in a chair.

“Impressive.” Hel laughed softly, sitting down beside him. “He doesn’t normally enjoy being petted like that.” Eska made what she assumed to be a happy noise.

“Do you know the Spirit of Violent Deaths?” He asked after a moment.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of making their acquaintance.” Hel smiled apologetically. “How would you describe them?” Eska paused in his petting.

"Very big. Very dark blue. With stars all over. Body like a soft velvet jello. Skeletal hands. Head is the skull of a ram." He made gestures with his hands as he spoke as if he were trying to strengthen the description.

“They sound beautiful.” Hel’s smile was wistful. “Are they kind?”

Eska nodded. “Gentle. Kind. Warm.”

“I’m glad.” She turned her gaze away from him, down to her lap. “So few think of death as kind.”

Eska frowned, tilting his head to the side as his eyes found her again. “Why?”

“Hm?”

“Why?” Eska repeated.

“Are you asking why many don’t think of death as kind?”

“Yes.”

“Well...” Hel sighed heavily, folding her hands in her lap. “Death is difficult for the living who remain. They lose people they care about. And so they see death deities as greedy individuals who steal away their family, never to return them.”

“Everything dies eventually,” Eska said. “Can’t escape it.”

“Yes, that is true.” Hel agreed with a weary smile. “Death comes for all things. Even the gods.”

“Are you kind?” Eska asked. His gaze had returned to Garm, who had flipped over onto his back, allowing Eska access to his fluffy belly. Eska was seconds away from burying his face in the fluff.

“I like to think I am.” Hel laughed. “But, well, I suppose personal opinion doesn’t count.” She sighed again. “I try to take care of my wards the best I can.”

“Wards?”

“The souls sent to my domain. I’m in charge of the ‘dishonorable’ dead.” She snorted derisively. “As if only those who die in battle are honorable.” Eska looked over at her. It was hard to tell with his mask, but she was pretty sure he was confused.

“I’m sorry. Did I confuse you?”

He nodded.

“I should probably explain.” Her expression grew solemn. “In my pantheon, we have three places that take souls. Odin’s Valhalla, my Helheim, and Freyja’s Fólkvangr. Freyja and Odin choose the souls of warriors they deem worthy to join their afterlives. I receive the rest. They call my wards the dishonorable dead. The old, the sick, the wicked. I take all who are unwanted. Because they are not brave warriors who die in battle, the other gods call them dishonorable.”

Eska’s face screwed up in distaste. “That’s stupid.”

“Yes. It is.” She turned her gaze back to her lap, where her hands were worrying with her skirt. “The majority of them have done nothing wrong. Their only crime is that their deaths were deemed...‘wrong’. They’re good people.” A smile crossed her features. “A good portion of them helped to raise me. Odin confined me to Niflheim when I was very young. I hardly ever saw my parents. The dead were all I had.” She paused, seeming to realize where she was.

“My apologies.” She laughed weakly. “I didn’t mean to burden you with that. I tend to...forget myself sometimes.” Eska shrugged, shoving his face into Garm’s belly fluff. Hel stifled a laugh. A genuine one this time. The children in her domain rather enjoyed doing that as well. Although they usually did it when Garm was the size of a truck.

“Thank you for listening.” She said. “Most don’t wish to speak with me, given who I am. What I am.” Eska stopped rubbing his face in Garm’s fluff, lifting his eyes to meet hers. He had an intense way of looking at someone as if he could see through to your soul.

“You are kind.” He nodded definitively before returning his attention to Garm.

Hel stared into space for a moment, trying to fight back tears. She was a great and terrible goddess who controlled the balance of life and death, who had power beyond what a normal mortal could imagine. But she was also still the scared little girl who’d been ripped away from her father and cast into a realm she neither knew nor understood. She’d been given a role to play and she’d played it. The heartless queen of the underworld who took and took and let nothing go. She had played that role well, to the point where there were precious few she could talk to honestly anymore. Almost no one looked upon her without fear. But Bertram had not been afraid of her, and neither was this boy. This boy had called her kind.

“Thank you.” She managed to whisper once she had herself under control.

“Everyone dies,” Eska said again. “It’s not bad. It’s an end.”

“A good end?”

“An end,” Eska said. “Peaceful end.”

Hel smiled softly. “What a remarkable creature you are.”

Eska beamed behind his mask.

Is it over? Garm looked disappointed that the petting had stopped. He was still panting excitedly.

“Yes, I think it’s about time we go.” Hel gently took him from Eska. “I very much enjoyed talking with you, Eska. I think I’d like to talk with you again.”

“Okay.” Eska nodded.

“I’ll bring Garm again the next time I come. And perhaps a skull.”

Eska’s eyes lit up at the prospect of receiving a skull, which elicited another laugh from Hel.

“I’ll see you again.” She then disappeared into the floor, leaving Eska alone.

#bendy and the ink machine #fanfiction #eska (batim)#hel #norse mythology #garm #bertrum piedmont

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kokina-kizoku · 6 years

Text

Noblesse Painter AU: The Meeting

Go here for the presentation of this AU.

Frankenstein was in a state of deep torment. His emotions were dueling: admiration against disgust, wonder against rage. He had finally arrived in Lukedonia, the world capital of painters, and was certainly not disappointed by the artistic quality of what he saw: everywhere on the walls of the buildings were painted magnificent frescoes, each with a unique theme. For example, the Kertia mansion was decorated with images of wind and lightning, representing speed, and the Landegre mansion was very imposing with its elegant columns, painted with nobility and distinction.

However, wherever he looked, he saw the injustice that enraged him: ease. The children born in Lukedonia were supported by great artistic masters, brought up in luxury, lodged and fed like princes. And all their paintings represented opulence. Frankenstein was thinking about his mother, who died for lack of money to cure her, and to himself who had to search the trash and sometimes even steal to get a tiny amount of paint to express his art.

At one point, he passed a large mansion decorated with frescoes representing the fire, with the sign "Avgain Family" written in gold letters above the door. These warm colors made him think of Tesamu and he felt a poignant sadness add to his anger. Fucking Union. Fucking humans unfair and selfish.

The heart hardened by this memory that still hurt, even after three years of separation with his little assistant, he took a dark resolution. That night, he was going to add his colors to the rich and pretentious city of Lukedonia.

The brush slowly slid against the canvas, bright red mixing with the black to create a blood-colored hue. Raizel knew this mixture by heart. In each of his works, there was at least one small red spot. It was his signature, for lack of a real one. Raizel did not know how to write. The only thing he had always been able to do was paint over and over again. He had no idea of the letters that made up his name, but why sign his works? Anyway, there was no one to admire them.

That night he was sketching the image of angel's wings on his canvas. Two scarlet and bloody wings. Those whom his brother had not had to fly when he had pushed him off the cliff to prevent him from doing evil.

A tear fell on Raizel's pale cheek, devoid of color because he was never exposed to the sun. The pain that filled his heart was impossible to express, even with the greatest artistic talent in the world. He hated crying. His father had always told him that it was a weakness. That his emotions should never be expressed otherwise than by art.

Raizel's fingers were shaking. He hated his talent. He would have liked to learn something else... To learn love, happiness... Now that he was alone, he had nothing left. Just hundreds of useless paintings adorn his huge, empty house.

Suddenly, a sound of fast footsteps echoed across the door of his studio and Urokai Avgain entered. He was out of breath and his eyes were furious.

''Sir Raizel! There is a poverty-stricken who wreaks havoc in the city... We hastily painted his portrait. If you have seen it, report it to us!’’

Urokai placed a folded sheet on the table, bowed with deference, and hurried away. Raizel sighed. This sudden visit had at least had the advantage of distracting him from his grief.

He rose slowly. His body was thin and weakened by inaction and lack of food. Indeed, he had already spent 24 hours painting, completely forgetting his physical limits. But his health did not matter to him. He took the paper and unfolded it carefully.

The man in portrait had young and beautiful features. His blond hair in battle fell on his broad and strong shoulders, his lips were tight with determination and his eyes seemed troubled, lost. Blue like the sky. This portrait gave off power and wandering. Raizel recognized, for having already seen it before, the characteristic signature of Ragar Kertia at the bottom of the sheet. This man had always been talented, drawing with extraordinary speed and perfect precision.

Raizel brought the sheet to his easel. He had just found the inspiration, the person he was going to illustrate as an avenging angel with scarlet wings.

Frankenstein was exhausted. His arm was aching and the cold of the night made him shudder. He always wore rags, worn clothes on his travels, and had no time or money to buy a good coat. But he plunged his brush again into the purple paint. On the main wall of the Kertia mansion, he smeared furiously another streak of color. He had time to finish blackening these offensive designs; he was returning from the Urokai mansion and the men were still looking for him.

He took a few steps back to evaluate the whole, then raised his brush again in order to make the final line that would create in his drawing without a definite shape, that wild and unstable harmony he so much loved. But his movement stopped in the air when a soft and severe voice called to him.

‘’I ask you to stop now.’’

A few steps from him, the Kertia clan leader was standing, looking very calm, alone in the middle of the street. Frankenstein gritted his teeth. He would have preferred to see the man start screaming at him and attacking him. It would have been worse than the impassive gaze as he faced her, his cashmere scarf hiding the lower part of his face and his silk coat. As for him, he was panting, dressed in torn clothes, covered with paint and trembling with cold. This contrast of richness between them made his anger even more vivid and he said defiantly:

'' What if I do not stop? ''

"These frescoes were painted by my father, in honor of our family. I politely ask you to respect that. I do not wish to fight you; I am a painter, not a warrior. ''

"Oh, do you see that?" Frankenstein mocked. ''Your little bourgeois hands can not be damaged by giving a blow? ''

"It would be dishonorable for me to do it out of anger, you are clearly not in a normal mental state at the moment, and, moreover, sick and shaky. Be reasonable, stop now. I know very well why you are if angry with the nobles, your art is eloquent and denounces opulence, but there are many things you do not understand... Please, calm down and let me help you."

'' BULLSHIT! Why would you help me? You do not know anything about me! ''

"I know what suffering is."

"That's enough, Ragar," said another voice, more serious and ripe. "He is not able to think and listen to you right now. The mayor has given us the order to capture him and bring him behind him. Let's fulfill this mission now."

Frankenstein watched with resentment as the second, silver-haired, older man emerged from the shadows. Ragar looked sad and nodded.

"You are right, Gejutel. I'm sorry, but we're going to force you to-"

He paused when Frankenstein grabbed the paint bucket with one hand, ready to swing it in his face. But he changed his mind at the last second and instead threw it on the named Gejutel, who was splashed with violet paint from head to toe.

He barely heard the old man's shout of surprise, running at full speed. He hated to run away but he had no choice at the moment if he wanted to save his life. The members of the Urokai family had tried to kill him and he did not trust the mayor of this town, which certainly should not be less radical. The man called Ragar had seemed kind and understanding, but he could not take any chances.

Frankenstein ran as far as the city, a terrible pain oppressing his chest. His cough increased and he had difficulty breathing. He found himself in a field and without the cover of the buildings, the cold wind slapped him without pity and he could not see anything in that absolute darkness. There were not even stars in the sky.

He saw the lights of a manor shining in the distance. A manor house in such an isolated place? Strange... He was getting ready to go into the forest, but he felt his head spinning and realized he could not stay outside anymore. The cold would end up killing him. He also had a chance to die if the inhabitants of the manor found him, but between that and let his corpse be found in the morning in the middle of a field...

He gathered his last strength to get to the mansion. It was tall and imposing, and even in the dim light, Frankenstein noticed that he was not decorated with frescoes like all the others. It gave him a good impression. The owners of this mansion were not eager to show what they had to others.

As he entered, a flush of heat made him shiver with relief. But the house was not as hot as it should have been, and despite the lit oil lamps in the hallway where he walked, the mood was dark and empty. Dust covered the floor, and there were only two footprints track on it. He was so exhausted, his mind so lethargic that he automatically followed this track instead of trying to hide. He had a presentiment that he was not in danger in this manor.

As he passed, he put on a white shirt hanging from a coat rack, ignoring the fact that it was not his. It was a beautiful linen garment, the same one he had dreamed of wearing when he was a kid. As he climbed the stairs, trying to drive out those sad memories of his memory, his gaze stopped on the huge paintings hanging on the wall and his breath was cut off.

They represented ragged landscapes, with fuzzy and faded colors, with spots of red spotted in a few places. Such a poignant emotion filled them that Frankenstein put a hand to his heart, upset. Other paintings represented people with empty eyes, wandering in the fog and completely alone...

Suddenly, footsteps on the first floor brought him out of his contemplation. He had to hide. A coughing fit shook him and he pressed a hand against his mouth, leaning against the wall. His legs were close to collapse, but his survival instinct was stronger and he forced himself to walk to the end of the hallway and open the door to the last room.

He froze on the spot. It was a painting workshop, filled with pots of all colors, high ceiling. Paintings decorated the old tapestry. And near the window, an easel was installed. A man sat with a brush in his hand and stared at him. This man was frail and livid, his skin white as snow, his hair black as night and his eyes glistening with a reddish glow. His deep eyes pierced Frankenstein into his soul.

'' I ... I ... ''

He could not speak. The silence of this man was an invincible weapon. The window, open despite the intense cold, let in the wind that whipped the thin figure of the painter and fly through the air immaculate curtains. A flash of light suddenly illuminated the sky, creating dazzling lights in the room, and the thunder sounded. Frankenstein, like electrified, says in a whisper:

‘’Good evening. I came to work here.’’

Raizel, bewildered, looked at this intruder who had desperate and suspicious eyes like those of a wild animal. It was him, the one who was wanted through Lukedonia. He has released as much power and torment as in his portrait. Raizel could feel his panic, his anger, his loneliness. Then, gently, he did something he had not done in years, naturally, to appease the terror he saw in his blue eyes like the sky. He spoke.

‘’You wear my shirt.’’

The man looked embarrassed, but relieved at the same time not to be hurt.

‘’Ah, uh, yes. I did not find anything else, forgive me.’’

The door opened suddenly, and panic returned in his eyes. Frankenstein took a step back. The old man with silver hair, looking satisfied, or at least the most we can be when we are covered with purple paint, stood next to Ragar Kertia in the embrasure of the door. The latter, on the other hand, did not seem very happy and rather guilty of not being so.

"We found him. It was the last place I would have thought ... "

"He came to work here."

Gejutel paused, his mouth open and his eyes wide. He looked at Raizel as if to ask him if it was really him who had just spoken.

"You ... um ... what do you mean?"

"He came to work here because I live alone and I need someone to maintain my paintings."

Frankenstein did not understand much about his situation, except that the ebony-haired painter was defending him. He tried to support his words, but a violent cough shook him as soon as he opened his lips. He placed his palm in front of his mouth to repress it, and blood fell on his palm.

"You are sick," Ragar said. Frankenstein gave him a annoyed look.

"I know how to take care of myself."

"We have to take him to the mayor," Gejutel said authoritatively, ignoring the dialogue between the two. Raizel replied in a whisper:

"I will send him when he is healed."

The two clan leaders bowed, and came out after giving Frankenstein a last look. The latter, once the door closed, found himself without words. The painter looked at him with compassion, and got up to close the window from which the cold draft was coming.

"Thank you for saving me," he finally said. '' My name is... Frankenstein...''

"Cadis Etrama di Raizel."

Frankenstein printed this name in his memory. He was not at all like the other nobles... Faded, silent, and surrounded by an aura of power and calm. His eyes fell at random on the canvas he was painting. He stepped forward, fascinated. The painting depicted a man with scarlet wings... A man with blond hair and blue eyes like the sky...

He realized with shock that it was himself and the memories poured into his memory.

"Mom, you always say that angels protect us. Who are they?''

'' They are the artists, my treasure. Those who create beautiful and moving things for humans... "

"Can I become an angel, mother?"

''I think so. You are so good for others.''

Frankenstein's lips began to shake. There was no reason for him to be combed like this; he was more of a demon than an angel. But this painting was moving, more beautiful than any other he had seen in his life.

"It's so beautiful ..." he said in a panting breath. The painter lowered his eyes. Frankenstein convulsed as another fit of coughing him, preventing him from breathing and filling his mouth with blood.

He fainted.

Coming soon in Noblesse Painter AU: Frankenstein's healing, his first moments with Raizel and his confrontation with Ragar.

#noblesse #noblesse Painter AU #frankenstein #cadis etrama di raizel #raizel #gejutel #ragar kertia #noblesse AU #I love Franky and Ragar friendship #even though in this chapter Franky does not want to know anything

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thelegendofclarke · 7 years

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What do you think about Sansa not carrying out Littlefingers execution? I kinda wish she did it herself as her father said the one who sentenced should be the one to carry it out. It seems dumb to have her delegate it. But I guess Lf was on Arya’s hit list so...

Hey Anon! I’m so sorry it took so. long. for me to answer this, but I needed a break from the ol’ Ask Box…

Ooohhh Swordgate! Yet another Stark Sister wank that refuses to die.

“I kinda wish she did it herself as her father said the one who sentenced should be the one to carry it out. It seems dumb to have her delegate it.”

I think that essentially, you are falling into the trap of being far too literal. First of all, if you take “he who passes the sentence swings the sword” as literally as you are here, and take that logic through to it’s natural conclusion, it honestly produces a relatively sexist and ableist result. Not that I think you are being either, Anon! I just think it can be easy to accept words or “lessons” at face value and not ~dig deeper~ or ~look beyond~ to their full potential extent.

Think of it this way: if it had been Bran who passed LF’s sentence instead of Sansa, but Arya still carried out the execution, we probably wouldn’t be having this conversation. I have seen no claims that Bran also should never be in charge of Winterfell because he is disabled and cannot lead soldiers into battle or carry out beheadings himself. Or what about Rickon; what if Rickon had survived and was serving as Lord of Winterfell or KitN? There is no way that 10 year old Rickon would have been able to lift a long sword and strike it with enough force to remove someone’s head. Even grown ass man Theon couldn’t do that, it would have to be done by proxy. And even Catelyn? I have seen no one criticizing her for asking the men at the Inn to help her take Tyrion into custody. It is extremely uncommon for women in the series to be skilled at any type of physical combat. Women like Brienne, Arya, or the Sand Snakes; they are exception, not the rule. Yet I have seen no arguments about Bran, Rickon, or Catelyn bringing dishonor to the Stark name due to their lack of physical capabilities; because that’s not what being a leader is really about. The Stark “pass the sentence, swing the sword” adage has never been about physical capability. It has always been about responsibility and accountability.

Yes, Ned Stark did carry out all the executions of his sentences himself; and yes, he did teach his sons to do the same. However, being the person to do the literal, physical act is not what’s at the core of the sentiment. What is the core of the sentiment is that human lives have value, and recognizing that ending one is not to be taken lightly.

Here is what Ned tells Bran in the beheading scene in s1:

“The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man’s life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die.”

And here is the similar excerpt from AGoT:

“The blood of the First Men still flows in the veins of the Starks, and we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man’s life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die.

“One day, Bran, you will be Robb’s bannerman, holding a keep of your own for your brother and your king, and justice will fall to you. When that day comes, you must take no pleasure in the task, but neither must you look away. A ruler who hides behind paid executioners soon forgets what death is.” (AGoT, Bran I)

“Pass the sentence, swing the sword” is meant so much more symbolically than literally. This epitaph is about taking responsibility and accountability for your actions. It’s saying that part of being a lord, or a warden, or a ruler, or any type of leader at all is recognizing the importance of your orders and the effects that they on the people you are leading. It’s about being conscious of your responsibility to the people you rule over. It’s about acknowledging that taking another human life is no small thing and shouldn’t be treated as such. It’s not saying that having the physical ability and being able to kill is what makes a good leader, it’s saying that appreciating the significance of human life is. To use this quote as a way to shame or criticize characters for having limited physical abilities is a pretty sexist and ableist misapplication.

And it’s not just about accountability, is it also about compassion and mercy. It is about not dehumanizing or distancing oneself from the criminals being executed. It is about treating people as people and recognizing that every single life matters, regardless of any other consideration. It is about treating people with respect and dignity, even when they are being executed. It is about facing the actual truth of what taking a life is, and demanding it be treated as the monumental thing it is. It is about acting with honor. To reduce this saying to one merely about physical capabilities and being able to kill someone yourself, honestly I think that takes so much away from the true lesson of the message.

And in response to your question, I pose this one: why would Sansa carry out the execution? Honestly though, why?? Why would Sansa, who has never wielded a weapon against another character in the entirety of the series, take it upon herself to carry out the execution? When her sister, who she knows is extremely skilled in the areas of combat, is more than ready and willing to do so?! I am not saying Sansa couldn’t have found some way to do it, I am just asking why on earth would she?? Narratively and logically, that just doesn’t make much sense. In the series plot so far, Arya and Sansa have been in radically different environments and developing radically different skills that can be used for different purposes. Narratively all that happened for a reason: Arya learned how to handle weapons properly whereas Sansa didn’t. She has the skills to take a man’s life quickly and cleanly. She has the ability to carry out an execution with mercy and dignity, just like their father taught them to. And Sansa was standing right there beside her, she looked in to LF’s eyes as he was dying, she never looked away. (And I’m not even going to get into the fact that I would bet my left boob that if Sansa had been the one to knife LF, there would be sooo much complaining about “Sansa stealing from Arya again” and “Sansa taking Arya’s traits and skills” and “Sansa being a Mary Sue.”)

This scene is being interpreted as Arya passing Sansa’s sentence when in reality, the sentence was on behalf of all of House Stark. It was as much Bran and Arya’s sentence for LF’s crimes against their family as it was Sansa’s. His exposure and execution was a plan that they all played an integral part in from the beginning. They were acting together as a family. This was the show’s way of depicting to us how the remaining members of House Stark can still come together and work as a unified body after so much time apart. That they are still a family, that they are still a pack.

Instead of viewing Sansa and Arya (and Bran for that matter). as three separate actors, there is an entirely different way to view the scene. Sansa, Bran and Arya were acting together as three parts of a unified body: the justice system.

Judge, Jury, and Executioner. Those are the three arms of the law and all three are necessary for justice to be served.

The Jury (Bran)- examines the evidence and evaluates it’s veracity and credibility

The Judge (Sansa)- applies the law to the evidence and passes the sentence

The Executioner (Arya)- enforces the law and administers justice by carrying out the sentence accordingly

Personally, this is how I viewed the scene from the get go, as a metaphor for the justice system. I realize that I might only think that way because I have spent the past, like, eight years getting it bashed into my head through my various degrees. But still, to me it made it a lot of sense and was relatively obvious to see it that way. The three arms of the law aren’t separate, they operate together in unity to make sure justice is served. Each plays an integral role in criminal due process. They are three parts that make a whole; with out one the other two are essentially rendered moot. With out one arm, the whole system falls apart. What good is having a jury and executioner with no judge to interpret and apply the law? What good is having an executioner and judge with no jury to examine and evaluate the evidence? And finally, what good is having a judge and jury if there is no one to enforce the law or execute the sentence? With out some kind of punishment, consequences, or retribution for illegal acts, there is hardly a point to the criminal justice system as a whole. They need each other.

Ned’s most important lesson he taught his children was this:

“When the snows fall and the white winds blow the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.”

Arya and Sansa need each other, all the Starks need each other. They are parts of a whole, they are a pack. And I just don’t see anything dumb or dishonorable about that.

#someone was talking about this on my dash earlier #and it reminded me this was in my drafts #sorry for the last response anon!#got for ts #asoiaf for ts #hbo got #got spoilers #sansa stark #arya stark #swordgate #alys answers #alys meta #anonymous

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dfroza · 3 years

Text

Today’s reading from the ancient book of Proverbs and book of Psalms

for September 6 of 2021 with Proverbs 6 and Psalm 6, accompanied by Psalm 79 for the 79th day of Astronomical Summer and Psalm 99 for day 249 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

[Proverbs 6]

My son, if you will risk your family’s future to put up collateral for the debts of an acquaintance,

if you seal a commitment with a handshake to someone without first knowing the value of his word,

Then your words may well be the trap that snares you,

and your promise may seal your fate.

You can’t be sure to whom you hitched your future.

So, my son—save yourself! Here’s what you need to do:

go to that person who became your master with a handshake,

humble yourself, and plead your case.

Do not sleep;

don’t even rest your eyes until you deal with this.

Get out as quickly as possible,

as a gazelle runs from the hand of the hunter,

as a bird takes off from the grip of the fowler.

Take a lesson from the ant, you who love leisure and ease.

Observe how it works, and dare to be just as wise.

It has no boss,

no one laying down the law or telling it what to do,

Yet it gathers its food through summer

and takes what it needs from the harvest.

How long do you plan to lounge your life away, you lazy fool?

Will you ever get out of bed?

You say, “A little sleep, a little rest,

a few more minutes, a nice little nap.”

But soon poverty will be on top of you like a robber;

need will assault you like a well-armed warrior.

Someone who struts around taking advantage of unsuspecting souls

and deceiving others is to be avoided.

With a wink of his eye, a quick shuffle of his feet,

and a slight gesture with his hand, he signals his roguish treachery.

With a warped mind and twisted heart, he constantly looks for his own gain at others’ expense,

causing friction everywhere he goes.

But you watch: his actions will bring sudden disaster!

In an instant, his life will be shattered,

and there will be nothing to save him.

Take note, there are six things the Eternal hates;

no, make it seven He abhors:

Eyes that look down on others, a tongue that can’t be trusted,

hands that shed innocent blood,

A heart that conceives evil plans,

feet that sprint toward evil,

A false witness who breathes out lies,

and anyone who stirs up trouble among the faithful.

So, my son, follow your father’s direction,

and don’t forget what your mother taught you—

Keep their teachings close to your heart;

engrave them on a pendant, and hang it around your neck.

Their instruction will guide you along your journey,

guard you when you sleep,

and address you when you wake in the morning.

For their direction is a lamp; their instruction will light your path,

and their discipline will correct your missteps,

sending you down the right path of life.

They will keep you far from the corrupted woman,

away from the smooth talk of a seductive woman.

Do not lose yourself in desire for her beauty

or let her win you over with her painted eyes,

For you can buy a harlot with a loaf of bread,

but sex with another man’s wife will cost you your life.

Can you carry fire right next to your body

and keep your clothes from burning?

Can you walk over fiery coals

and keep your feet from blistering?

Take another man’s wife, and you will find out—

whoever touches her will be found guilty.

People don’t despise a thief

who only steals to fill his hunger;

Still if they catch him, he must repay seven times over—

he could end up losing everything he owns!

By contrast only a fool would commit adultery

since by his action he loses not only his possessions but also his own life.

He will suffer injury and be disgraced;

dishonor will leave a permanent mark on his life.

For jealousy sparks a husband’s rage—

when he gets his revenge, he’ll show no mercy.

He will not be paid off or appeased;

no bribe or gift will set things right.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 6 (The Voice)

[Psalm 6]

For the worship leader. A song of David accompanied by the lyre.

O Eternal One, don’t punish me in Your anger

or harshly correct me.

Show me grace, Eternal God. I am completely undone.

Bring me back together, Eternal One. Mend my shattered bones.

My soul is drowning in darkness.

How long can You, the Eternal, let things go on like this?

Come back, Eternal One, and lead me to Your saving light.

Rescue me because I know You are truly compassionate.

I’m alive for a reason—I can’t worship You if I’m dead.

If I’m six feet under, how can I thank You?

I’m exhausted. I cannot even speak, my voice fading as sighs.

Every day ends in the same place—lying in bed, covered in tears,

my pillow wet with sorrow.

My eyes burn, devoured with grief;

they grow weak as I constantly watch for my enemies.

All who are evil, stay away from me

because the Eternal hears my voice, listens as I cry.

The Eternal God hears my simple prayers;

He receives my request.

All who seek to destroy me will be humiliated;

they will turn away and suddenly crumble in shame.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 6 (The Voice)

[Psalm 79]

Prayer in a Time of National Disaster

Asaph’s poetic song

God, won’t you do something?

Barbarians have invaded your inheritance.

Your temple of holiness has been violated,

and Jerusalem has been left in ruins.

The corpses of your loving people are lying in the open—

food for the beasts and the birds.

The shed blood of your servants has soaked the city,

with no one left to bury the dead.

Now the nearby nations heap their scorn upon us,

scoffing, mocking us incessantly.

How much longer, O Yahweh, must we endure this?

Does your anger have no end?

Will your jealousy burn like a raging fire?

If you’re going to pour out your anger,

pour it out on all these nations around us, not on us!

They’re the ones who do not love you like we do!

See how they’ve attacked us, consuming the land,

leaving it desolate.

Please, God, don’t hold the sins of our fathers against us.

Don’t make us pay for their sins.

Hurry to our side, and let your tenderhearted mercy

meet us in our need, for we are devastated beyond belief.

Our hero, come and rescue us!

O God of the breakthrough, for the glory of your name,

come and help us!

Forgive and restore us; heal us and cover us in your love.

Why should all the nations sneer at us, saying,

“Where is this God of yours?”

Now is the time, Lord.

Show your people and all the world that

you will avenge this slaughter and bloodshed once and for all!

Listen, Lord! Hear the sighing of all the prisoners of war,

all those doomed to die. Demonstrate your glory-power,

and come and rescue your condemned children!

Lord God, take what these mocking masses have done to us

and pay it all back to them seven times over.

Then we, your devoted lovers, will forever thank you,

praising your name from generation to generation!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 79 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 99]

The Eternal is the king ruling over all;

let all people shake in fear.

He sits on His throne, settled between winged guardians;

let the planet tremble.

The Eternal is great in the hearts of His people;

He has made Zion His sacred mountain,

and He reigns majestic over all people.

Let them express praise and gratitude to Your amazing and awesome name—

because He is holy, perfect and exalted in His power.

The King who rules with strength also treasures justice.

You created order and established what is right.

You have carried out justice

and done what is right to the people of Jacob.

Lift up the Eternal our God in your heart;

bow down to the earth where He rests His feet.

He is holy, perfect and exalted in His power.

Moses and Aaron were two of His priests;

Samuel was among those who called out to Him.

They asked the Eternal for help, and He answered them.

He answered them from a column of cloud;

they heeded His testimonies

and lived by the laws He gave them.

You answered them, Eternal our God;

You were, to them, a God who forgives,

yet You did not ignore what they did wrong

and punished them fairly as well.

Lift up the Eternal our God in your hearts,

and celebrate His goodness at His holy mountain,

for the Eternal our God is holy, perfect and exalted in His power.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 99 (The Voice)

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lyannas · 7 years

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So imagine Lyanna married Robert anyway, do you believe Robert would have been able at all to treat Lyanna the way he abused Cersei? In a world where Lyanna marries Robert, Brandon is still alive and it doesn't look like he would suffer anyone mistreating his sister, married or no. And Robert loved Ned as much as he would have Lyanna so wouldn't he risk pissing each Stark brothers off if he ever so much as lay a hand on Lyanna?

So the first thing we have to address here is that Robert is an act first, think later type of guy. In his fits of anger he doesn’t take the time to consider what he’s doing and how he’s hurting people. He just does it. His abuse of Cersei wasn’t a calculated and controlled thing; it came out of his drunkenness or his rage and his inability to accept responsibility for his actions.

Here’s the scene we saw play out in front of Ned:

The queen looked to her husband. “If any man had dared speak to a Targaryen as he has spoken to you-”

“Do you take me for Aerys?” Robert interrupted.

“I took you for a king. Jaime and Tyrion are your own brothers, by all the laws of marriage and the bonds we share. The Starks have driven off the one and seized the other. This man dishonors you with every breath he takes, and yet you stand there meekly, asking if his leg pains him and would he like some wine.”

Robert’s face was dark with anger. “How many times must I tell you to hold your tongue, woman?”

Cersei’s face was a study in contempt. “What a jape the gods have made of us two,” she said. “By all rights, you ought to be in skirts and me in mail.”

Purple with rage, the king lashed out, a vicious backhand blow to the side of the head. She stumbled against the table and fell hard, yet Cersei Lannister did not cry out. Her slender fingers brushed her cheek, where the pale smooth skin was already reddening. On the morrow the bruise would cover half her face. “I shall wear this as a badge of honor,” she announced.

“Wear it in silence, or I’ll honor you again,” Robert vowed. He shouted for a guard. Ser Meryn Trant stepped into the room, tall and somber in his white armor. “The queen is tired. See her to her bedchamber.” The knight helped Cersei to her feet and led her out without a word.

He deals Cersei a vicious blow because he’s drunk and she’s said something he misliked. Cersei recalls a similar altercation in an AFFC chapter:

“I glimpsed him once at Winterfell,” the queen said, “though the Starks did their best to hide him. He looks very like his father.” Her husband’s by-blows had his look as well, though at least Robert had the grace to keep them out of sight. Once, after that sorry business with the cat, he had made some noises about bringing some baseborn daughter of his to court. “Do as you please,” she’d told him, “but you may find that the city is not a healthy place for a growing girl.” The bruise those words had won her had been hard to hide from Jaime, but they heard no more about the bastard girl.

So the record is rather clear that Robert reacts rather violently when his wife says something he doesn’t like or upsets him. I don’t think he actually thinks when he hurts her; he just does. In addition, he does not blame himself. He blames the wine, or he blames Cersei:

For Robert, those nights never happened. Come morning he remembered nothing, or so he would have had her believe. Once, during the first year of their marriage, Cersei had voiced her displeasure the next day. “You hurt me,” she complained. He had the grace to look ashamed. “It was not me, my lady,” he said in a sulky sullen tone, like a child caught stealing apple cakes from the kitchen. “It was the wine. I drink too much wine.” To wash down his admission, he reached for his horn of ale. As he raised it to his mouth, she smashed her own horn in his face, so hard she chipped a tooth. Years later at a feast, she heard him telling a serving wench how he’d cracked the tooth in a mêlée. Well, our marriage was a mêlée, she reflected, so he did not lie.

Robert reached for the flagon and refilled his cup. “You see what she does to me, Ned.” The king seated himself, cradling his wine cup. “My loving wife. The mother of my children.” The rage was gone from him now; in his eyes Ned saw something sad and scared. “I should not have hit her. That was not… that was not kingly.” He stared down at his hands, as if he did not quite know what they were. “I was always strong… no one could stand before me, no one. How do you fight someone if you can’t hit them?” Confused, the king shook his head. “Rhaegar… Rhaegar won, damn him. I killed him, Ned, I drove the spike right through that black armor into his black heart, and he died at my feet. They made up songs about it. Yet somehow he still won. He has Lyanna now, and I have her.” The king drained his cup.

Now, here’s the other thing: Robert had no fear of Jaime of Tywin. Perhaps it was because he was king, but he clearly made no effort to restrain himself so that he wouldn’t be chastened by Jaime or Tywin. According to Cersei, Jaime would have killed Robert if he knew that he hit her:

“If you truly believed that, you would never have come.” Ned touched her cheek gently. “Has he done this before?”

“Once or twice.” She shied away from his hand. “Never on the face before. Jaime would have killed him, even if it meant his own life.”

Cersei hid these bruises from Jaime, perhaps out of fear for his life. After all, if he killed the king, he’d be dead too. So now we can round back around to Lyanna and her brothers.

While a younger Robert might have known more self-restraint, I think it’s safe to assume that these physically abusive behaviors aren’t something that would be cured through a marriage to Lyanna. It’s been discussed before that Robert did not know the real Lyanna. She likely would not have been the soft-spoken, agreeable wife Robert believed she would be, nor would she have loved him the way he wanted her to love him. He might have loved her, or claimed to, but Robert’s love for Lyanna was always an idealistic love. It’s far too easy to say that you love a ghost comprised of all your favorite things about a woman.

So if we assume their marriage sours because Lyanna does not love him and does not meet his standards, then Robert may regress into a drunken piece of shit and similar scenes as the ones outlined above might play out. Would he fear Brandon and Ned? He did not fear Jaime, so I don’t think he’d fear Brandon. Now Ned is a different story. We see above that Ned more or less stares Robert into an admission that he “should not have hit her”. His presence seems to guilt Robert into feeling some form of regret, which drove him into further self-pity about how Rhaegar has Lyanna and Robert has her. Robert clearly loves and respects Ned, and I’d wager that between Brandon and Ned, Robert would be much more affected by Ned’s disappointment than Brandon’s rage.

The thing is, I don’t think Robert would even consider their feelings on the matter until of them approached him with it. Then maybe after a confrontation, Robert may reconsider his actions. But the question to ask is, would Lyanna even tell Brandon or Ned? That’s something that could really go both ways. Lyanna could see telling her brothers as a form of defeat, or in Brandon’s case, fear his reaction or maybe she’d say fuck it, I’m not taking this anymore, and tell one of them. However, assuming they’re both living at Winterfell and share this info with Rickard, I think Rickard would forbid either of them from acting upon their feelings. Lyanna’s duty was to marry him, and I don’t think Rickard really cared what happened within the marriage beyond that.

#meta #my meta #Anonymous #asks #abuse tw

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