#Drew Merry and Mourn for the third time

[coconut530]

Stephpotterdrawtober & 31 Days of Nevermore Day 11: Tongue & Houndstooth

Vane based off this one sketch by Innocentcinnamonbun:

[libidomechanica]

For he had late between

A ballad sequence

               1

One of the stood, we said, have spread     with her destiny of the daffodil, I know fully     blue, and who slumber, but in fix’d the avenger, execrates     his race. Love is her out as if they say, if they     were inherent—what bitter

shrieking, still doubt you then why     notes, friends, turn to live, and love you. Added to fly, and the     lengthening away she had been attachment. The whole face     so fair. By vaine Loue learned lady’s eyeballs purest great     wish things charm of speak, twas

born alive or die, let by far,     go thou list not for Ilion’s force, silence. Alone on the     ostler listened, and arm’d with him: I knew myself at sea,     in distant sky, with muskets at the pleasaunce they might’s in     the break of mourn for a

languish me! A things with his well     as the United States, that so much she made. Then make the     blue, dancing, love, you’d say that faire-sweete successe cleaue: his man     to my eyes seems the sun’s meridian splendours to me;     I’m fond kissed its starling;

why then in the landlord. Not the     twisted her in her father’s bright. Once has found—but never     head, and doth admire, who am not the very time and     his new seaweed on the green and gaze into fire should have     been but that be. And I

hold vp thy sordid bounty she     did, he in the held or leathery ripe head, and not keep     so chary as I, not Corydon, hath that worth, what and     saw all myself the house where so close. Is most exquisitely     stage, and the weightye prise,

and clasping flowers then the hours.     It’s like can write your woful dawn and share wither frame, and     thou go? In flesh, and there comfort but overwrought his spirit—     not a wh—re. So kissed its song, and the upland dim,     then in the electrons.

               2

What cocking outward the little     rest, but no matter; we should be waiting from sorrow, and     sounds might be desire on their sighing and kissing, her     let me home so soon for I impair not been toying and     there, beneath her sad from

her out asking me, an’ aft my     wife she strain came, and still when I see thy captive state     unchanging, but this his post— to me thou art made my heart’s hem     warm leade the stems. They chance the ocean-buried, Your back. Into     you; the hill, is the

lakers, in clouds all the yellow     leave, a porter at least was the landlord’s red and bonie blue     are so close between denied, and cross, join withdrew his life     too late accounted by elements was lacking, rapid     running looks so old, as

Horace fat, or in the wide world     and thus; at large from heaven that faire necke a fool. About,     these ladies, the second burden of all summer and what,     the hidden weapon, and fever dear silent night at a     time may judge of place, and

lands for our very generation     of this vanished into the wide destined the morning     gilds the blood, he found him going the foot alone. Glowed white.     From myself she don’t makes the moonlight them both; so those icy     chocolates tempers my

way; for of the sun’s, and some to     stand a sad astrology, the hot blood to the queen of     calmest mood: he fountain- top wouldn’t be kissing, and a few     special animals of thyself in a rather, still with     the sky, and flickers and

you are always running ask’d where     the immortally think to flow, alluring for any     weeping like rabbits, and then flew upon the hill, is thy     selfe might, in mossy skulls that moment merry, a novels     e’er had already mixed.

               3

Young man, arise and flew at all.     On the drew near; the hellish and lose thee thy captivity,     are what the deed I

dare not weep; and sinless you. And     all my blushing but in peace from reach’d elevated by     one that did exceeding

Heart alone is the postponed     discreetly sing; and moss. At all attention, gainsay love thee     power to the third sex.

To linger touched and thorn is true     knight be dead, then look in your features of the hollows like     the from me he took fire,

and anon a something she     dandelions live or death of frosty air is keen and prayed     by inconstancy and

nearer to blasted upon her     garden-trees, come when Winter- sterued. Can they all the more;     but the least glance bereaue, all

wed; and, thirteen that is call round,     and still in love. His may safely children changes tell; but     now we see in thrall, or

a name, and at last faire you! Sternly     still her, with light his corporated, spirits up—at     least abstruse. For often

in the longest day—that is not     make, with new needles on the night, and power to the ground;     and men came, ere there’s

no other green. Neither doth in     a wagon at dawn. The present, just want pitty? ’ Steed, and,     if a happy in the

silly swore had done instant, till     the hall—a barbell or a Tory at with the mountain’s     higher that which she sits

the upland distinguish you I     envý none but all is locked in vain: in pity thee, while     ye may: the virtue yields.

               4

No knight air beat upward tells his     dame from better, then the made through here is thy kiss me, fearing     such as had ceased with

spicy nest; for there, I climbe so     beings born with rags of shrieking, like a little nearer     out a photos anymore.

Beneath the garden stolen     like toes. The lips Loues indentures and some disguise. Here comfort     at the fire is dead:

and in stars shone great harmes had chosen     that seem’d a habitant where are of dull substance bereaue,     all sleep under the race.

               5

It’s eleven years—the blood weary     dreaming sometimes that will be crush’d, less gone for sullen-     seeming Death its of flowers all. Love gives in my arms, its     quiet fields live against the vapor can I thee the back     of a deep in my breast

doth live here came on, soon shall round;     but each drops of space I would have been from an old basin     and love and wisdom never yet so warmly raiment of     woe, while ever gave not with musket, drenched the sob took a     troop, and the tumulus—

of whom? Than both come the circular     and changelings mortals call the world of virtues, even     if the sky, and moss. Assumptions about the glory     round a sings for the blue sky was chains best intent sane     cursedly miscarried lady’s

eyeballs purest again. When     it isn’t they meant by the day; but know all do stray the old     haue pyped erst so long, must leave to secret of my life,     while ye may: the bitts of flowing orb were lay she is not     leaves with t. Her poor do

like the thorn which round; angels would     I kisse; each wish and reason for a distant parson, which     to feed of mosquitoes ascent flickering roar, if caused.     By this time when my feeling, she awoke, and tingle with     a tight, I am

becoming here is in my rose-wet     caverns sent: it dried her hands it were up to attention,     science nor grasp—his arm- chair? Done things in the same: new needles     on the west—I misses the nak’d since what I must be     happy they could not to

the treasure, onely Hell. When     I say, into the very freeborn create, I promising     and kiss. A certain leaden stolen like four and stumbling     at its close, I read and sound, and cross-grain’d and still. Tis     all happens, this is a

little old, in the dawn across     their sphere. In pity then I’m engaged to moue; not think the     one convulsive grown the Dog Star rages, but the silly     sheep from the ev’ning groan— who blames when the seeks, shy to     illumine; then shouts for all

might, I am from mine, with the     dared to die. Out a purposed wonder. Very clever,     his glance nor grammer say— one kissed you I never honest     single on then my days, ere thou winter and crow flock o’er     it, was a glass shall not

persuasion when they chanc’d to Juan,     nor remedy, could tells me this, which is not accounts be     accused me of love like to death—most full bowre with you. Cats     over east or west the prayse is better power he cannot     be beleeued, and sinless

you. When we may yield ye, when     the brown between border collide? Bade on the sense of space     an’ rest again. By the thorn, this may safely charged with looks     so old and blue; my politics as yet green electron     never utterly

desolate pure lovers’ parts his primrose     to the sky, which once- named myriads name the Muses found,     your flesh so to be sure that quilts those who slumbering with     a woman a’ her with blushes, deepening her. Why alas     doth sharply crystalline

fragments of worth. But that take the     fortunate last, he wits, and seen; with many a tingle     hour be: listens to take exceeding; so that Nature the     bottom of, my every body carrion, just enough     tall animals of hem

warm leaden strings and relax Pluto’s     brow, and leade thine the best, the ball. This desolation:     few would mountain go, up to the pity, with his Mecænas     is yclad in sights, intrigues, the rising recitative     of strawberries. Her sad

berths; each field, each green, two whit less     bound; thou thus exempt from its forgot, and tuned him. I didn’t     for me by those of pleasure, the tenor. When I get thee     embrace that she dream, grown hair, as poetry house alone.—     The father’d farms, and kissing

so difficult as a noble     gas flown! And Wordsworth as feel her sire: On me, ’ she     could moveless and Giaours throw kerchiefs treasure, onely     evermore thou but of her heigh-ho! And girt in girlonds     of wake behind taking

and wishing fork deep blood of     enormous please—a most love me they’ve turned out of altering     with my moan, I mourn for sorrow to and that she should not     seen, and then the price, and strange and sweetly forth from room to     roses they ever bleach.

               6

I know fully evermore dead.     Loathsome machinist at their destinies ye shall seek what     slackt the ocean’s swell thousand scarlet breathe apart; but her     the dry-tongue would he, the large, the wedding-day, the arm, the     Dorian shepherds lost

a mate, some to this old sworn and     high. Smiles, and still an iceberg it may comfort is, she never     to blackbirds and couple will be sword to shaken by     the sense afford; but is the unfit contrarious oathes,     the dark red loosened her

cry, oh misery! Picking of     the circular and shuns to the man? Orange this young,     receiving from thy babe chains, with each vndercharged with suspended     died too sore, and silent- bare under the poor, would kissing     song of ancient days,

jovial and this darkness flowers     hang from thy broad lucent Arno-vale for the road lucent     Arno-vale for the rise had too soon, but close; by the     black hair. So child the death destruct me home, my love in well     or a bower of us

dared to the must still the world.     Leaf and where they know she saw in having no hear that—nor     any weeping snow; time beneath fluorescent of soul—she     has been. But mourning you and blew from reach in the moon through     my fires, yet she had not

here sole in a wagon at dawn.     I’ll tell it bore and rave, every hanging a dark eye’s     mutual comfort shewe like a bouquet in the Excise. Nymph     of the voice like geese about the cause he’d not formost     —The fame be doom’d to tears, .

               7

” Caught my poor food or evil, burning done away.     For summon’d hand, but grammers be grey; I feel the man; the rest, because he’d nothing for     Lebanon, dark cedar-shadow, dull

substance remains a blessing with my foot the dead—     the red rose up individually like a bower, if men procured their heart—which rounding     it up when the muzzle beneath

that Nature might saw the mountain on whose gift frae     ’boon the dawn’d a faintest thou! And man’s ingratitude; and isolate purest and kissing     third sex. Let me beauteous heap thy

stings!—Tis throat, in some one, and Crabbe will still, and pearl,     can the Muse display her must don’t need me into fire should pression all over willing     she gaz’d, he shall be loved the party,

juan from the wall should not sound betrays responds     unfollow’d after sombre cave, ere you! Then being fired at the street its the same     delightingale; then a long as my breast

doth glorious lace, not know all desolate pure     blood part, kiss now! Were I have pledged brooks are fraught her and would give back to thee. The women     as a snowball who had a brandished

and bare, and stumbled and which serenely sing; so     that mirror waiting year at they caught in mouth—your natural her heard her boy before to     sail at night-market boughs, and my Delight,

since, I know in heigh-ho! Perforce, at any     hand. I am from book of events is always asking metaphysicist asks, does     her noticed the flowers the Bard refused,

and makes vs better therefore you would go:     perhaps the stubborne struggles ceased with the tree-house is a rhyming loue, contemplative,     men, when my loud crying roses, or

them—they hired him—with his head. Yes, I admit     it has already mixed. Which froze to meet her gilded bed-posts shine, and lay the sky, or     when might of my lips more splendours that

fame you look in it. Of flies from limits strings do     breathe out of the ostler listens to dreamed, ah woe is me, firm, protestant climes, at lengthen     fetters by all; who can, more their

several people, in equal verse; do now your     boat pass the ball this man was afraid: t was love were motley follies mote be found no     fault is mine. I’ll write your distance, ground

vase, singing and nights. With grey; I feel for you learned     him to the death. To give you go, and thus, o pious porcelain of either. Now     pillows, of moss, who, they falls into

here. My Muse, not forgetting thee. Little being     safe and warned to add a strand of lady to her elfin grot, and there is nought of food.     And flute his whole like summer. If it

prove a woman stood, which seem’d a habit’s powers,     and knew such a life of mine, each the dale, or yet sheep feeds, and go, and not sinful the     dreary mountain when I shall be well.

               8

Arise like mould; not speechless fancies dwells, and whispers,     in anguishment? That you, my dear. And how are our skin, those Cherrie-tree who fled. The tenor’s     voice so fair. Ah, do not knowing in shape; let armes embrace the mounting a good that     be. Take those of that bee which bright, sooner that lift up by its close between border cologne.     And the pain with his hand. She cry?

               9

—Love design’d, you must agayne: o     what lone, sky-pointing a much noise. An ignorant, not to     beare coles of affection,

such as a chaste to warmly ran     my breath, and give here a faery’s child frown—that cast a     glorious oathes, that our

Cuddies name struck Sylvander’s raptur’d     view, he gave no sign, save from the power, especial     and tempting still, is flank’d

by the sublime discussion joined     to mend, being praise beside to bury think, for I grow     bright in the sharply

crystalline fragments, but reverence     here is then I saw the shelter of willows, or led by     a pass, which shall summer.

               10

Against their pathway strange decrees     of cloud as soon as thou away, and that become those thee     time remember, and mossy

skulls that nest own, its fountain’s     highest ridge, where and fever dew; and he himself a clear     the roads, as soon o’er-gang

ye. What they models be; models,     such a notion, and for fear and twenty ages gathered     from the race, he with blossoms

with gold, that all those powders     to take those throng, astarte with that Rich she sees throat blossoms     in hand can hold and go.

Set me measure, onely rich     in the loved thy tresse, why the beads I kiss by your winter     gale cuts like decay’d, instead,

and out per couldst be, if you     saw too well there a prettily bedabbled with grey; set     me in one endear’d. I’ll

tell you every hanging had been     its gainsay love crossed upon the grove, but not any. Arise     like a zeppelin.

               11

The lady in the death my eyes.     Sage could the silver voice of yore, there be tongue to sore, and     bring and whisp’rings are pour’d on Sicilian she is flocking     on too fast, she had sword. But moor tonight a price must     partake all which still beleeued.

The next morning gilds the blood     and ioy there is nothingness in a row and in the thrilling     my eight all that doth kissed to show a part in hell, a     though the dews of my hart since she doth expell. She look upon     thy vaine, and talking.

               12

Blind men come never finger move,     and girt in my voice of your iron skies, innumerable,     against the day with

beads in well as the ball. Gain, seals     of spring with heavy price is all sum my corage could     rest on its wanderers

of Heaven knows, but close, I do     confesse pardon a fault is mine; this Canto, and principle     wither that—nor any

weeping. This head to go out     that tribe; with someone who can, more life a perfumed altar     elevated by one

that grow are of the jewelled     sky. That lonely rich of worth it, he still continues forget     some many a year

my pipe is lost a mate, some sneaking     eyes! And see the real world that poor desire, enough,     not I, for a lane to

the high rate. In sunny Summer,     till the kingdom of threatening, and he knowledge, it is     overlooking fern, and what’s

how your silence, and all his keen     and one in vain—in vain. Literally is nothing down by     the dim-gray dawn; but when

and tells me to Her unconditional     love and I the dreary mountains by all; the earth.     The narrative: The vessel

bound; angels would after the     unweeting year at thee will has come upon him; t was     its waters of Poet

stand anxieties, and of airplanes.     He is a baby’s face—but power befalls into     the sun doth haste the blue.

               13

Especially when the man? Still,     now, and from her exceed to the deep trenched it! Upon     their day; they say, they please, I could adore than they escaped     her. No one in hand. Rather passing the plague being safe     and village-cotted out

of the rocks other that is none     like geese about, and sound betray’d at once I looked to feed     the tree. Abandon the purer or moons the tree-topp’d to     rave, Achilles; of their pass their sad eyes swim across their     store he felt and kissing

strains out, and this soul beggared?     But when the boggy depths of Loue directions of gold. If     I saw the waves which I’ve to grow now my sere fancie, and wit;     if they share with a shadows low. I cannot feelings and     twenties, and poker-faced,

place. It was a Moorish mart, he     still keep them knelt at her o’er ocean-buried the love them     yet. But the gilded bed- posts shine own to marble’s unchange     decree that lone, sky-pointing and kiss, life paid for him did     know, full bowre with your own

at Keswick, and there is not any.     A though thus seasons, charm’d but read swim in you know, full     silent, you know in passions forfeited? That the imp     beleaguer’d till the bush, the oblivion. Vanished, and no     spot, the hillside, that, Virtue,

alas, why, fearing sun, dirt-     sweetened their Destiny he heap that’s the power was hers!     Surely once, to show em, to make, unheard, the hues of human     clay, o, sweet face burned it shine afar, and she had not     help it until the thou

ask proof? Blessing itself to dwell,     my though here better their moon-faced, placid miscreant! Looking     between us thrown, because sheet. Till the least wash, and     could move but her with me the purple school, the pressure, be     kill’d social, haunts, outliving

no very generous     familiar men to-night, thou must again as in this Canto,     and fetters and I sunned it will be doomed man, she     appalling ball, and found himself o’ermasters story, by the     sky, you are the heat of

Greenwich Village street; in lost, the     year’s prima donna, thou go? Rules withall away child wrinkles     in frame; whether bed. So have got a flowers here! To     see me writhing, and in sight her will sweare, too, was she mad—     its happy day go in

another of a Vice Lord’s daughter,     or be my skull is over. Struck, though fame they know my     epic renegade, while I weep! Without debate, the most     unregarded guise, to chace: and all feelings charm’d, and think     it so; the deed I dare

uo do! I try to kill; beareth     all that the small to weaken’d minds acknowledge itself to     be here is a dove. Play with flower to be Italian     tea! Everything here and has come to me by moonlight with     her pinion, are whatsoever

must I go to the same     opinion; these were late Augustus long seclusion was     made my Maud by the quartz in their destinies had dwelt with     her will, and the bush, throb like the rivers combine beneath     her bed. Lo! Tis poem

every stands as due as fair states     the bursts in your crooked to be, my own merits, and the     spite on the sea of life he street its resonance just want     pitty? She heads of wild sad eyes back. In tempestuous     blazing on they once with

thunder the fair. For your form improved     hill be moving me, and rain, no screen, two webbes in     flowers, and further downwards they shone great Mother to hurt     her. Can tell, blest, best, but like fruit of alter’d woe; give me     for thine on, there sits, until

I noticing until they     bear to warp her hair, see the pond you lik’st not a senses     all I turned out per couch wit to me by moonlight is over     may strange them, nor that must beloued. This is when their mates;     save the times she stood, while

youth within my road, this world of     moss so farre the landlord’s daughter, riding—riding—riding—     the river the bay stretch looks on Ilsley Downs, the forever.     They say, if to set out for me by the clocks to feed     it from thy brow, and barred.

               14

I’ll seek him to passion’s roar, if     they han the short to those Cherries. And group, hoping to despair     I will form’d for ever

bow he dreading, before I’ll     tell not for these, and sighing and come—the light; the oblivious     cooks, though her dream

of succulents, staircases, whence     they were grain in the Muses full many master’d my mind,     my face, your path, stifling

and knows, and for the deem’d short,     speaking Woes darke place yet she cries, oh misery! Who blame     out. A gown of what there—

do go. And pale kingly unpleasant     ease and vain religion poetry housed in such a     world’s good survive to-day.

Was the pressure, and I to nursed     by her days seen! Or where Tim thereby! If we may judgment     knew thought not thine eye and

yet can move on, and liked to thy     diving from come to be dead. This cant would never a pool     in the deep desire,

thyrsis and we should be the rocks     looked grinned at me as she dang me, down Bristol butts a-twinkles     in the treated on

her flash’d that it looks on Ilsley     Downs, the shell, a turtles, until I not save one faith, and     see, back’d old Scamander.

               15

A man carrion, just beneath     of friend, was such to thee. What we are hardly knows, as welcome     as a fresh grows dull silver clear, our frame of other     grace, a baby and nightie eating my child; your touch, and those     only a sequel, after

a harmonica line dances     and bubbled, till they seeme my Julia’s cheek a riches     or daughter, and I defaced. Drawn by the enclasping and     when they say I’m after thither lip through thy Bright a rainy     mortal wrong; the shutter,

which like I had taught is shine     with not its own, its tenants pass? Her father’s mirror waiting     the appears! Thou afore, and inscrutable or a     wilderness, whilst her with a stirring could come fort of those     that thro’ and I shall run

like despair, first two orange, two     green electrons. I never found, all things, armies still last     year and vice. Health, in whose lawn running on thy beauty’s bright,     and darting crag, I found, and starting plann’d, unless wave? She     knows, as I have found a

single elm-tree crown of which it     singing a wisp, a gasp, sonorous World. Pray, hurt him up     a Deity; but stood, in a hurry, hail’d and gentle     mate thy comfort is, except for the ball. Moved was; since mind,     and story of my hand.

               16

You are at thy foot restored,     reincorporated, spirit rest of the head, his spirits up—     at least wast bound it has ever bow ye shall we find those     who are close; by the present

days, with the balm was intensity     of your left human filth that disarray: that of     birds sings one! The rise of your spring, ere whatsoever     moor and in the hot cornfield

is better than these thine, the     two, according thy hope to aspire, for the voice of the     heap that’s horse his whip on the opera is by no more,—her     maid to ceaseless lie beneath,

knew that poverty my Muse,     to seek him in and grace, and every step beyond, the waves     in a lover sure your sweet lips asunder, and wonderful,     for a pinnacle

doth the angels to that chance hands     or temple was a ribbon of movement, rustle of each     night the phoenix building of a conquer’d all do still passion,     the fewer noticing

until thee, wretch, which to feedes     they hired him who with dreade, thou wandering streak of     day, when the atmospheric state-thing of word, much as had     made them yet. The poet’s

volume, will have to set before     but it escape green birds sing, and fair, and look, but have     forgotten time may things, which is a babe; the moon has his cheek     the changed my foe beheld

their compeers, and bid her noticed     what’s like a jester’s. From the flowed. Like the road that seem’d to     make us laugh at anchor under the pinks that is left     his lady-love thee. But

fire sparks, particles, but stood as     silver bow with the West Indian market bought worth as     friend; I told about think he spruce, new sting voices of Heaven     forty steps behind.

Love never star whose the soul put     on, to do her stove singing education had not the     hills of the hot fire. Story here. They found there, but even     men might eye, hauled away

she dandelion green and with     his hand. There with loss of despair, wandering left but make     those pain was more fit; never was whitening here is passionate     as Sappho’s song, and

cut diagonal at they were     choppers taking eyes sent: it dried her sire’s story here. I     was an egg. Wherein my selfe might at a long seclusion     I think a very balls.

               17

Nor have all the river will goes     to carry me too much pleasures wait their flight she clattering;     thou needs a crutch, and

honey will. Of the dead, for one     Circassian wrecks? Without memory moth, pod of enormous     pleasure of height, or

in the room and of a horror     of sense and a peace, least glance been told I love and blow a     scholler art to those who

could not lost moisture quite, dulling     snake-like little rain cups by the innocuous occupation?     So that our Cuddie,

for Charles how your sin the heart-     wearying rose faded, or the case; for Bess could arise     like to humanity,

the muse of lights should be most     seraphic creatures, allies, lieth silent night. For she proofs, save     the boy will come home shape.

               18

That it is my loue, display the     sea dirge, except for lack of a Vice Lords whose beames of     knotted red with darkness

musicke made the place has been poured     out a rill, leaves looked at me avow—you are at the road.     This, and sinless group, hoping

here be prophecies, and shady     grove, but never, so he would an honour doth of one     fingers reaching the beach

they went before you! Joy sparkling     it. From a cliff on Sunday morningles with is gone     down, is none like any

of the road. Up from out a groue     most hie, without strange charms and so being dumb; for in this     sorrow to your has something

more on the phoenix builds her     face grew wide for somethinks, some were glad I see; beauties,     and in your beautiful,

her feeble, gave them, so sweet is     Pride and like then say Now I love of all his keen and doing     all the cruel pain without

marble shadow as bene     wynd, and pains, but not with moss, a nymph and luminous with     grace expellings do break

into the Axis hates a clue,     or the bush, through either let me changed from East to pre-     occupy. Some loss of old!

               19

But each maid in a visions break.     Parts his turn you disdain’d and think he spurred to cheers which it     surpasseth. The party,

and teach at last evening, and know,     I wish to passion more— the certain o’er-gang ye. Where you     every stall. For in his

dull silver knell of our skin, the     tower of a swains shall in ways of madness, and glory     earth wife, as amber-colours

steal into the orange Tryanic     power to the last, best, thought with Cape Sigaeum. Higher,     until now for you spoke,

a woman at her yoke did set     his chain’d, so fiercest she look’d quite heavens, and the pitiless     wave? I think thee thy

wardrobe, thing for Lebanon, dark     cedar shaken by their lordly loue she loue and my poor     infant’s blood that having

to you. Drawn to my garden-trees,     gust-fists, hollows on the girl. None but all warblers held with     an equal spirit—not

a wh—re. My foe: I told about     the spoke, a woman go? And I, ye learnt a step she     made the argument downward,

that it was its closed her babe     change direction. Were folly: the show’d deep is themselues     oppressed, but is the eye,

on his brethren they should be—a     lion’ then ordeal was more disting water, you know thus     to sing, Our Machiavellian

impresario at     no pass, and made him with flower the young doue makes of brown     between us through still

heart most wondren are close; by their     mates, and no faults I death her sense of this a woman     That an hours, that the thigh.

               20

And magnify, and afterwards     that the book my head are sweet the world a notion, has     somethinks, some she dreade, thee

time may judge of perfumes by though     here increase, beauties which its own, its for you in my blunt     invented, and sometimes

showing, new-perfume came with blushes;     let none should man’s abhorrence here is of his laurels’     pattering the sea-shore,

and knit in these were doorknobs and     coughed to a rock; she knew no reason; they stow’d him there her     mouth—your precepts wise, her

sense of perfume came I had his     whip on the narrative: The very spired. Surely once     more worth than words they seem’d

some old world of virtues, even     he least wishes in mounds might breeding flashing else to banish,     in hill, or frosty

silently sorry. Or else shadow     lour’d in vain by the death soone would partake perhaps some     with the West Indian

market of true sensation and     sett him to the trigger at last shall wed; and all the heart     like a fool of the rest.

               21

Your own blood and they should be most attend time’s tyrant-     hater he doth than solemn love were calm, her light in disorderly, threaded dances     withers ready more forst to drag

it too slow but her veil and she, too rare, too, and     would his beautiful, the brow of their cradles, and in Julia’s bed, and nerve: you was not     wait its curious, preace emong the

blasted fruit; for nimble thou art made for such, so     not dig so difficult as a tear, as all that whisper inspiracy or congress     of knotted red with green: she hasp of

this, and your body carried lady’s eyeballs purest     great flood; but he demands one by one blight; This lip through neuer slake, as any mercer,     or though ice burnt like a foot less

into whirr and still bless musicks might forbidding     today—this, and nightie eating swallows where Tim the silver the past. A baby on thy     beauties more than the dark eye’s mutual

comfort meete, both maladies, that then with flowers.     Have a few words off, or shame hold vp thy self-caged Passion’s walls were folly: most likely     I should bar the pressions breast making

of blisse, hath spent her o’erclouded breast; and lie,     ever sing there is past, i’m sure you more moued towards its grossest flattered and channels pour—     oh! That did prepare tongues cover; I

knew each sence bereaue, all the hopes I have pledged my foot     did appear’d to tears: and with the terrible tumbling over the things; alas, if she     doth of old! From her Numidian veins.

               22

Not highest ridge, their eyes I’d     rather we loved his not call routes to enlarge, so large olive     green and stricken by

their vermillions will go or seem     is but a loss what will still, and against female, whereby!     But now that they knew t

was once with thou art gone ask me     no more so I couldn’t seen, and lay the beauty passions     forfeited? Had watching, leave

me those shining eye: but who come     out, and one dead. And worth your ballad from side by side. As     there; I know. Hooked heart freezings

his voice a while these action,     with more fit; I don’t read your granted virgin; beauties peece,     as you spoke, too until

now for your strong, face to see: but     if you’d renowne, lyft vp those who opened beforehand. And     overbold; no poetry,

at large black—o! The dusky     strangled mute, when he lean, and princes; the bloom is gone as     was at the pear or plum,

and strange, two green on Marlborough     to show the village. In a velvet, and cross. True world again:     and we should take my

lips more be nothing. But I send     a IOOO back but to face, your own head. Ask me no measuring     the country know. Good

eawes be more Irish, and hearts     to invitation, but like candle-light’st forth, suffered shipwreck,     like wet silk stained the

wind; and hung without this mother     that every petticoat, or in her answers, and come—the     little rest, church unthinking

you canst wait on the without     few, I really like a deitie, that makes watery trees. All     love was but two orange,

that blossom and make hot cornfield     tree, and odd female, the things with the young troop going the     feeling, thought her features—

but this, old Farmer Simpson did     his idea, while the injustice brought I must house view,     the light; in vain! And he

hero-boy, who after meeting     year link’d together I hear two smart. Your eyes its dwell I     claim the great gold lichens

to guide, and please me: for which is     allotment was wartime, and catching her; and that which hides     the blue sky was certainty,

crowning till the invitation     of human naked on then with herself, or so that     other we loved a lady

in the river the tenor.     Could pursue; that I heare the to destruct a young, did not     why, but like her, in their

flights of purple and sigh, I can’t     dance on her the shrill verve of your pend in Julia’s cheek grew     pale, but have done in vayne.

               23

Like Dian’s kiss my veins, in them please; I ne’er was done.     The little days of light, and swept away to the small and bitter collide? With thee! Woman     or wine, how I could seem to shoote as Sappho’s song in wedlock. I am silent,     doubted; time remember The scatter’d

since which she guessed in this is with Juan, till of moss,     thought not refused me! No face the real the long. And now let me while now, and long I love     hearts first the shepherds sang when we come back, and flowers. Shall ever be the Muse displeasure     of the one convulsive green and

more be pierc’d with that it looks of sin; but overwrought,     then come when all be done, had held through lie with lichens it is, too, O Thyrsis! Gotten     times she gaze into man,—o aye my will omit their caused. From life to grone, he deigned     note, the way down. If human vanity,

the lake, a vast, unless water thin wan finger     touch’d myself invented should! To find our surface, the loueth best, threate: let all power     for good: yours has lately goddess, do they were all passion you your graces and pale as     it fell, and father’d creatures: and fair,

their marriage-tomb, and below, if such to the answer.     This music, and the wind with the sun, dirt-sweet and lie, even to tinder. Sings on     the way water’s nights, whose fruit; for unto his mates, and I shall I, unskilfu’, try the     green tea! And temptation to the spot

away from his day the skies, whatever head, his     winter winter hates a shipwreck with a wonder deeply, beautiful! Smiled scornfully,     and my breast, when in the sunset, which them warm them, nor these flowers: but it is out of     my heart can tell, blest, best, the sea. Forest-

ways, and wind, which hides the blackbird in that hear     two men, bid her beauteous dyes, is like her graunt O Deere on knees on more former friend, was     struck not on the kitchen. And deadly drede, so fresh grow? He know who should be, as in a     gushing eyes see beautiful still our

tree years could not so sweets she camel’s foot, or at     least, when the men, but now shine on all had Thyrsis of human naked in their pleasures     were he would have forsworn and more than his own shall be backe to the landlord’s daughter’s near     a source. This prophecies, for balls.

Paradoxical, clever, never, none. He loved by     the mount to ask his sickness, and in the ground. Caught to please, to feel, we were never will     slowly dust: and I do not think, for victim: all the winter night&morning. I dwelt alone;     yet of Constant love, called The Witch.

Her close. We have imputed such the parting years     shall be backe to marble’s unchanged, that fame you more where not weep; and the landlord’s blackbird     in that which is in loud roar grew, and well-built house in the sea dirges low rang in shape;     let armes embrace the unweeting year

he will die with joy their harts his rapier hilt     a-twinkles, that severs alive … Oh my Petite, cleare. I have his farms, at last faire breast;     and the forsooth, let go! Nor could seaze me, the mountain when to pleasures were driven so     wild! A librarian in the hollow

knock of sometimes are Thames’s tribute take exceed     three perfect song-birds singing a wisp, a gasp, sonorous she. Yet, hadst thou dost notes     appear’d to marble’s unchanging educate. He sign again; for she knew myself she     disappointed seventh Heaven are

closed there she turn’d to sleep of deserved for me, the     high-dive at they who would melt a pistol, when went—poor Martha! Whom thee; how some were not     to last carnival, and heart of handsome light with place whereon she was on the wind was     angry asp, the landlord’s daughter, had

watched beneath her strains out, scoop after somethinks,     some heart to soar too much, earth do to us throws o’er my despair, their lady fell in;     so well as midnight, and sinless garden- walks in their eyes were with you one to be     Italian tea! An awkward like toes. It’s

turtle rests on then wings in wet silk stained in summer     where the great crowns the tortoise crawled overbold; now crystalline fragments, stake did vanished     high rate. Had it any been but the first two beings born from every fine; but their     eyes, by his arrow, hopelesse, endlesse

rest and touched it! With a becke, so wrought so. I     don’t read swim in the ledge was the Chinese nymph doth farre from which still, and it half cut throws     o’erclouded breast make too rare, their mutual comfort mair than a tooth is gone, and gazing     on Latin King gown, whose gentle

mate thy prison-wall to hear heart’s head, hands or temple     leaves with your name; and your personal. The way the soil’d: thus is themselues did banish     the mad—its happy ground, thy limbs have not move, who partake perhaps the sunny Summer,     till night; yet, hadst thou art gone, and

in the blinder minded eyes you on your red veins,     in ridles, and the longer by her of thy woes for you, sir, to the longer it is     why I sojourn here sole in the sky, trouble, gave not what’s how you see a life to face     in sunny mead and bitter shore, who

say she doth itch, my wrath, my thought of my hart     disdaineth, her poor Heart alone on their prey, as he clattered another curvëd pointed     in snow the thrilling Dart freeze, though he from faring the sea’s, mourns o’er it, was said I’d     be amazed to the beauty for there.

               24

Nay rack your flesh, and Circassian     wrecks? High barrows, with the mountains by another this? The     musket shattered and like Paris changing education,     beyond, your eyes sent: it dried her his awkward the morning     down on the beautiful!

               25

In themselues will now for you     in my vocabulary. Badges of child, and therefore,     lovers’ parts ere the street,

blossoms on our low world uplifts     its walls, formica country knows you’ve been from come to thee     to that bright, in smiling

and kisses, and all mystering     age, and the woman or wine, how sweetly, on and oil at     grandma’s little preferment

get; his were sits, untill’d? It     pushed until thee, I feel her head, and still keep thanks to feed     of the very time must

be borne before her must a rill,     the could have to do. I once handsomeness tinged by like     the fair, their own garden

is adorning-star. I curst the     cuckoo’s particles, chrysalis into the poor desire;     stern, she thorn when I

got to bear, although simulation,     and masters, but death- white and glove he did lay no measure     and bring too much more

swept away, when we prayse ones mynd     about his cheek a fading vnto me those husband’s light her     answer. Of the shutters,

but you so that did fetch her sex,     and moral man was another legs. When I saw that compass,     and panting was death.

               26

So wild Yuie twine, how cam’st to die!     But it was full mankind, a tinkering—doubt, if cause for Charlotte,     having a cure than

in their lee—another’s too change     the tyrant-hater he can. ’Twas, ’cause of that we escaped     her bed. Dawn again as

in other and could tells his     Sicilian shepheards laddes to pass my version brought a     sense of the noiseless

and cooking their death and leaves with     their round; and out of threatening withstand could perplex the sun’s,     and doorbells wherein, the

two Hinkseys nothing. Wrought comfort     shewe like men esteem’d farms, and fro, riddle tell. To say strings     Dante’s bosom dies. Which

its their tongued laurels’ pattering     ill. Day—when a’ thir day; for the Sultan, and gazing eyelids     keep through his rapier

hilt a-twinkles in my early     you loved her heart such as some old inn-door. Have a few     glean’d at dawn across the

cause a lady to ladye—love did     lay the Fates but all and bring good. If to wander frequent     recital was its wall;

her hair was designs with the Bard     refused me in them. Just have bethough fame you did prepare     thou conceiv’st, is braveries

of the night, i’ll tell me, and     he muse hath gone for Poets only blackbirds nestle in     a row and yet are broods!

The rose upright fights, whose that well     might had veild that which each others held Love’s sink and how are     of—succumbing took a

troop of Oxford hunters going     home, my own dear is therefore? Sleep—the pond of storms there in     lauish cups and you as much

your happens wither’d creature might     should ever-nearing couldn’t be kissing still her trust can be:     but next, because within

my verse can explained by each day     when the back to herself upon a sister shrieking and     kissing, and in a scarlet

go! A fainting she gave us     much she mad—its hack sound, all feares heart, though simulation:     few would return

softly in her garden is almost     exalted, Charity, and others and she is fled,     and he whole. Their priming!

               27

Set me beauty’s height: her lost it     could make ye flourish all these two distant electrons. Than     their eyes grew, and manna

dew; and voyce, so deep river. Yet     this not much pleasure, and makes me first, or a Protestant     points of my life, climbing

to Proserpine!—Stands it wears even     to the globe of true a deitie, that is not me? I have     I slept in your victorious

cooks, the rocks of a young     man, put in fire, whose fruit doth in his faith! You, my shepherdesse,     fiercest she would one

in hand. I must I go to the     Ages, and relax Pluto’s brown between us throat. By     the earth until all other

way of speechless friend, though nations     were all the pond of love; and thus to the knew the sedge     itself in a bedde of

pirate, but never was done! Would     douse with slave-maker, where no more moue, least in the men     incredulous of desire

which the sun, and come—the real     the coin of his idea, which serenity—that will     the lift, the girl, the lady

fell into the back, it’s not     puffed up, doth not become sounds the bush, through to under than     foe: whom thy Bright her veering

lover, and tempest, and twining,     the elm-tree bright and give back but the landlord’s do-rag.     Din past them very wind

blew; another was in our joys     of me; well, if in your bombers had not know the old houses     of a winter, bid

her height, and she was at all. Maybe,     although the way yet, and hollow sky, with wine, you’d say     too much you had a fourth

will never noticing I never     happened, oh my bridal white-hot. His wrong number caught     in mouth too, O Thyrsis

of heauens still kept his pide weedes     him of care and bare! There those airy silks are in my buff     and with rags of shadowing

third. The crowds upon the moss     is it, thy garment get; his weapon, and hourly sits by     her head, alley cats

expended scythe top, and vitamins.     Sight to consume us all, leaue me he might and would be     very rich and round; thou

must steep our hero’s grave in sight     honour, and cordials they are laid: juan replied, Your blessings     the way water’s gush divine

when he least, when qualified     within his very birds sing. And girt in girlonds of the     fair, in the white. But if

they kiss when nothing of worth in     the ocean-foam in the death-white bear such colours that fault     confess, mine Oten reedes

him ere the eye, or Regent,     with green valley drinking- songs, spice his rude scythe, whiles, fairer     mark; and they smote her, none.

               28

They not mine, smooth-faced it; and thought.     It lifts its curious the dangerous five hundred good     note, that you’d gladly view,

the chain’d, cribb’d, confines the mind—     o’erpowering that could; for Bess couldn’t be kissing, and firmer     faith, it was said I could

see no object higher, until     the high triumpher of a hand, as one way down. It stand, stream     the towsing and this perhaps

no better me? And the charms     my mind, emasculated to show not so base and wanne,     so high Philosophy,

less is spotted train yourself, is     none she like the starry night, which the morning’s fire shoulder     quite underfoot. Those airy

instrument off your wofull     Maisters and see thy notes in fountain-tops where an effort     meete, both wishing, and all

warblers her face, in spikes, in branches,     and all the intellects are laid by age in whom to     room—but all teach after

to the pain’d to the ship soon, and     all be cracked, my face, silence. Because of pain—even while     far over they were red;

out of curious, for they one     by one. He rose upright enter on a sister shriek, and     bring graces can in good

day, setting bread and she was released     them forth will bright Argus blaying Venus, but gave thee oft,     I pity then look pale,

starke blind to worth than both your nature’s     fire brief question; on her, none. With me in one sort slow;     my wealth of sheep-bells into

the major part of tunefu’     power to black and see the pear or cherished high     triumphant, and find out of

lady may’ress pass? But is the     ostler listen those blood red with me so large, so large lengthen     flew upon the

dandelion grindstone’s back of     a hand, stand at they know; and on their feather. But by the     bloom in Mrs. Like to

thy memory moth, pod of his     quench thy Beauty for wrinkled curl—can comparison had     woven he heauen apace.

               29

The offer went down on the mattock-harden’d hand,     and then shrieking a Gangster thin scream of what your choice, if human clay; ye could lend it     hard bright, in rymes, in branch the haunt, and uncrumpling fell, another, as poetry,     at least once should rayse is bent my day,

and in summer tread o’er the just’-save chanc’d a ringlet     of dried both; so those earliest beat town’s harsh, heart that we are the ocean’s swell, sick,     or in your assumptions about and permitted ferry’s flowed away with time dream; yet,     Thyrsis, on like the blow; roses and

young man, express message sent into the little     cupola, more life as well in; so well follow knocks in the half a former chief transport,     can in good as one who live, and gazing on the hundred dollars for something in     those a modern quill employed, no near,

which may give more the water-fretted hill of feather,     in the wanton burden of lonely rich light; as on the water’s near. Sea-shore, when     they bounding in Eden. Of her boy before you more thus, o pity, sir, to secret     of your sword between denied, and no

more prophet eye. Back, he spurred liked poetic war     to me; I’m fond of love you more did our tree-topp’d hill, in dale, the Vale, though thou must be     kill’d his, and when tis with its slender wires delude this Canto has late with queintBellona     in heavens, and I defaced. Set

out, ’ like a gem, and there, but close between dreams are     in for a cure the season. While it stood, in another, all perdue; for I impair     not formost place of the lift, the comparison?—How few! For of midnight I never     ran o’er-gang ye. And the while the blue

because your woful day a certain o’er-gang ye.     On the lace, purl, knot, or shrieking and wert o’erwhelm’d that chanc’d to rove! Everything rose faded,     or them—they hadn’t seen where choppers taking together the Amorous World. Bearing     ill. Of her neare thou wont deuise, its fountain’s

high, bob, And fall. Are swept away his own little     hamlets, with which first, these and word by Charlotte was dropped noticed before than I like     Orpheus, from the musical tennis mates; but no matter made at last man,—and, as     with Absence break of darkness musicke

made. Pass by her grace accounts be accused me in     bigger noticed the thorn; it look’d quite reade you saw the base a vacant hear you look in     thee, that a sense of this country-folk acquaintance she evening, and reluctant more fit;     never bow some glory earth until

the rich in the work of ages gathered from Nubia     brought a senses clear arose, and the universal death her cares did not love you,     light listened, and beds by her destiny he hero-boy, who around us spreads the     Giant is enchanting Poets found

it had taught in those powders to the globe of thy     place into an oval, square, or thee afar better this, and strange charms o’ lovely Davies.     Stella, loadstar of her face. As on her, yet so well might I noticed you and clasp,     twixt their extreme verge theme, her father

that fame you see, back’d by their store, but where had heard     her noticed before her will, gude faith, so as to lug me out, scoop afterwards its amber-     colours there’s one, and grey. This silly brain so wild sad ears late with blossoms red     and beauty from me his silly sheep

from mine Oten reede, when I was a tear, a day     the danger, with marble eyelids are at the bush, through sorrow to the yellow gold alone     till the incessant water even till true brought my poor Heart alone and paint dyes     us red; out of having leads they

knew t was locked at his prima donna’s carnage     to sleep, for some by morning glad I see that she the large black cascade of perfectly     company, have hearts’ most sanctify their prey, as her stove singing livid, still and     inscrutable crickets of the death looks

so old tune; he chaplet and bare, and hairless as     a child: now tear that tyrants in your eyes; this arms, and for ever. I sweare thou sighing     fork deep river damm’d from them, needs must a little broods! Are flowe as faith! Fixed his hands, rose     roughly, three yards of hay new-built rick.

               30

Some old Catoes balefull coupe.     With all the starry head. Pale kings, endureth all have climb’d     at dawn and sonnet; witness

watery tree. No sign, save     from the faculty to read o’er it, was not lust. And some     virtues coughed to own, but

them gold, thy lusty days and stiffer     that severely wound, poor Thames? The fact is call and blast     the dews of the fix. So

woe-begone? Some promising more     secure the lily lie round her casements was lacking,     ride! Then tribute of Poet

stall. The lust of the spot, and     barren tender fingers. Then sweare those like the thin scream of     what purple door of the

dark, the dead. His muse, ’twas all time,     not Corydon no one else. Until now her fair Venus     skies, least ere they’d never

was another, bid her hand touch’d     his morn in early days seen! Felt a pistol, when they who     till hear him down the sobb’d

for me, the hour too far, but burst,     its earth doth expelling, gaue repulse all graces and chain’d     and wars of Heaven for

still: I can make with no more blest     than for a pint-sized journey. Days lay she doth sides I could     up little brookside gleam

of seventh Heaven! What from Oxford     hunters storm came back against the Phlegethontic rill!     There the horses; here in

vain! But at their pleasant because     the omen! Eye: but if the flamenco—some heart the boldest     man’s ingratitude;

and within a folding might enter     melody, and sighes mixt; with though you could be, as     you loved a virtue yields

each stick; and find our sin their throat     blow; roses the crumbled in the express grief for the most     logical conclusion

from heaved the Dardanelles, and     thou in the lay on day, and whining, and blow a scholler     art to thou catching waters

which my whole like hand what a     suddenly I should show: sorrow through my heare, through a heel,     he fellow, and sight her

comes more on the sleeps warm her earth     removed in your praises; or, if that bliss he country tone;     lost it could expiate.

Yes I try to kill; but all power     couple, for long darknesse of pleasure, be kind readers     did smiled, but still try gainst

the stems. Her sense of that covered     another things cause of pirate, invention, bear to     She doth sing, and to stir?

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In ways withal her close only.     The horse loud crying straight as I have no ruth for a moment     to spring, and barred my faith! The pipes we lay in his     old chains, with payne, and, a

king’s incense to that the vasty     version from the way down. This head tho mayst thou art named. She     has fallen. And all, to be sure I am the air is     cool again! Though thus ouer

me, now I think she cries, say of     wit, and fair, see this age, pair’d off I ran, head-foremost, who     had fall in lovers met and liggen wrapt in your brows, and     whining of worth. Beautiful,

the sea-shore, when at night, his     sabre, in equal verse, till night; yet, Thyrsis there a pretty     pass, it chanc’d the mind, a tinkering the pallid and still     keep those faults I death a

city, will drap the man; the spot     away his own avenge, its petal tips; for in my pains     he doth loathe threw a rueful glance upon the fiddlehead     fern in early days grew,

and the devil a Phrygian.     This is all the such as true blood warm leaden showed her breast!     But the Chicano cats over east before does she bang’d     by thee; thus to her elfin

grot, a pretty persons, to     my eye like a zeppelin. Until he cannot take him;     but the waves that was made to be true that severs a truth;     there’s the dream with just

be reserved in the starry air     of being as a chaste dames, huge giant hear? As a hostess     detests to carry me thou need me like Samuel from     life to Lambro once for

ever more dear. Since the sleep, he     dreams the sum could not sweeter melody, and ran, but she,     and as a coal; and calm with rest of the purple moor, a     red-coat troop came tumblings

vse the red rose with her poore Slaues     vniust decaying. But whether my despair, half-taught in the     doorknobs and white bear such, or glance inquire, and harry me     throne in velvet scarce could

retrace; food she is overgrown.     Werther, or when young Daphnis with my added praise destiny     he heart, and in one profession, or yet so wary     as I, not uncouthly

hewn, but of her reed, and next     proceeded not. Till each spot to be when those eyes you to sore,     and flickering—doubt, if cause of dull scene I’ve stole, which was     sober climes, at least glance

better collie and hate; and earth,     in its fumes by thy sordid bound they took all which was a     ghost begins to tears scald and pearl the charm. Satisfactory     information about

and knows, my boyhood like four     and bower, especial and the hill, is thy stings! While ever     surely once thou could just last have voices of a poet’s     occupation. Thy

scepter vse in bigger noticing     under the lakers, in clay; ye could he adore a     sultan? Her compare with spades the Bard refused therewith     industry. Thee in a

boat, and Don Juan sprung to stir? You     had first he met, as in love he is framed, I content vs     in this way of writing thee. His musical fact is     the stars above the lion’

then the byrds to the literally     ill yet either’s manners, which shall have arm’d, while I weep!     But she, and how a call and to such a constant more he     shoe or slip through beneath

of sheep, leaf and brought dash into     me by morningless at his letchery being human     fear’d a little near a source. The fair and burst     Ask me not other change!

               32

Wounded and wastes rust in the past, and in summer     pomps come where he was born from reach him come when we are. With his hand’s rites in, ere she was     kindled, cool again, seals might his fingers began to shake his velvet, and salute love     for a dissipated lifeless the

sepulchral gloom, but still deaths for years. And amid     they might fight; if they models, such a things, believed her love’s sake, do not dead sage could not     for love himself o’ermasters, blinder minded eye of strife arose as one who withstood     kind real the courses of shadow lour’d

hed, milke hanged aspect of gold. Not pointing points; it     seem so. Emitting of our slender pray taken winter doth loathing of the loathes,     that isle is not conquest wash, and his forest root of the old haunt mine eyes the orange     and stiffer than I lie on Mother

way to those wounds having sun, as when you were you!     Twelve yards around there fancy flattered by thy perfumes are green and cold, cold hill-side. It     barred. Only mark the landlord’s daughters are not persuasion when the apart, it is what     was mine. And inscrutable crickets

but their hours, that faire night, thought. I must steep our hero’s     lot, howe’er afraid I’d slip through he be doomed man, arise like this he knows why,     I have to grone, hoping so farre they did stay. But like a lion ramps at they say, all     these, that else saw the Dorian shepherds

and to the silent, you to me, and give me     a place has not now these, the mountain meaning with the vasty verse of a hand, the noise     at all the light of hay new-mown. Read your brain to the lands to yields. They had, alas, now     I though you could be warm when May is

paid to show, no thorn is true sensations of old     Ancona, with which its many death of moss, the thorn, the gates of willows, and brought not     sound when the Nini, but then the mattock- harden’d handmaids tender what the Phrygian     king, the bone dry voice’s sink and for

further doth nothing so close; by the blow; and out     a Single scudo of soul—she hangovers, and is kind; love you they went on cutting     eye: but is now scarce would one of thy voice a while it selfe out of the fragments, but there     is a little avails that rest. As

if to wandering the tailor’s wife, of force, silent-     bare under young, enjoying with pleasure, I am become some weightless plan that     my hope, turn back with blush which thy foot of the wind blew from the men, but bring; the earth is     strange Tryanic power he begun. His

sighs the Gipsy-Scholar haunts, outliving Roman     princessant watery face, there she sits she must partake perhaps the waterd it in     faithful day a cruel things. Woods with the shudders, and sicknesse of men who mend, to mar the     sea inside my love once hand clashed dust

of fire. When I shall were you disdain, your time to     pant, whether way to this is a liberal age, and is, if in your vertue gan to whirr and     she look pale, dreade, in rymes, in branches, and not knowing a much like mountain-top would     seem very courage stress we find it

half he wish to pleased to tears, and butter. ’Tis sweete,     do not leave Don Juan,—who, as thou away, the cause of perfumed altars did not the stagnant     tide shall have no more rudely fleet, and strife by carry me that where thin wan fingers,     duly rear’d a things. Tongues coverlid

of yore, and—but next, because of truest breeds. It     lifts to flow, and barren tended brain, like wet field, each wave is, he love with a future     years, so doth grows, and died shell is too harsh truth; a true that poesy has wreaths do thou might     do. I said between denied the death.

               33

Were his face has been toying will     happened the highwayman came riding—bid her on my griefs     have led herself upon

the sharply, and in the poor Thames     she flies; now seldom shut— and he kissed, but in woods, for I     will goes down, and saw all

do stray the injustice naked     is, time will owe my heart becomes riding—may this: the major     particles, chrysalis

into whom at you do! Say     so nakedness, they creep; and brand as their common case. Cupid     in shame holds good, a

dainty is here with heavy tufts     of Heaven are heard, why did not say strange brig—Corpo di     Caio Mario! Taste at

first he met her? The chain’d and he     whole. A story, while the same pond of man. With little old,     so long should not so, my

Tory, or Trimmer at least     ambitious eyes, transfixed because of the field, the ground; angels     would altogether, or

wherefore have fears, like an     innocent woe that did ache; but now by the awful crowns the     hot fire by the dang me,

an’ aft my will never, you know     thus someone else to pant, thou need me into the fix. And     gay, and story, hands, I

do confesse pardon a fault confesse     the thou winter-eve is his lady-love the hall—a     barbell or a gown of

which seem’d a habitant well as     they’d be able to add; and Haidee and how a call     celestial round he begun.

               34

Crooked and bid her human thus?     I think the presently? Yet is still death. Moth, pod of more     worth as she could not see what dark eye might she choose thy Will,     ’ if thou art names uncouthly hewn, were distance she spake; her     smile’s a gift of prophet

eye shows his train persisting is     alive, not prove fair she turtle. Hide, oh, taketh not accounts     be accused me! Dost the foam and rook-delight laid paused     a morals of this a dozen in the same and my poor     do waiting and years or

more dear.—Oh mighty Mother answer     thing breeze once more the ghost, to restrains out, scoop afternoon     from thee. And died shell is Eden, or yet in his cheek     grew stronger? And on the lands to touched it all, unless     caravan; and heart of soul—

she hath interest in: there will     sink where! With his sorrow cleft with transferr’d on these long     already yet to pay the sleeps the bed, and more said, but she     flies; now seldom shut—and her and active scorched the high degree,     in rymes, in the

Nightmare where! Angels, but also     I was afraid of succulents, but read are store alone     she stood than a groue most logical conclusion, and almost     Dionysian. Maybe I have treated on her     hair are flower sale sent

to his lines and not be true sense     it were riding—riding— her revolution be the who     sayes nay? Twelve years till, nor they were once the wall snatch’d, she had     bound; thou sing, tis exceed that matter, all unseen as also     I was, in ill fame

the pitiless in t: and sighing     shall my sweet did for Bion’s walls, for one Circassians, as     thou that cockings do break. I’ll gives itself, is not pure they     shone great price we pay for them to the muse hath would he, the     very spirit—not a

flowers, that evermore did lay     up; and hair was death. Pray, hurt him up a Deity; but     ’twas all and there’s none shipping weeks drop by, and the longest     day—when other animal lovely notes I never     against the vaunteth not;

not a wh—re. Has some antique     Triumpher of the stems. Does not out of my tears: and made the     only instrument; and the changed, ye hillside, and flight: her     sad from the answers gave no very clever, but I must     be—yes. When our marges

meet them, at least before was once     I know not imitate the phoenix building a picture,     different: desire? To leap up with a shadows do display     terror to lived too deep river the while I yet descried     high the death. I’ll tell

how to the church unthinking Stephen     we come where falling, and reading roar, let in my arms     ’gainst me the twilight. Her with the silly braine not pointing     at emotion come, as to withstood that nest and nearer     bliss, maud made me I am,

the rocks once-a-boy pilfering     about, and for her paroxysm drew toward Lambro—’t     is mine. My fathers of either compeers, and they hired     him in and flows from her some promontory, whilst think me     that take: I list not, alas,

before than heart dotes lesse     armour rusts, Turne the river gleam primrose tops the innocent     muscles, bulging like the Cherrie-tree who frowning Honours     cruell might at his all their heart to the old! But almost blisse     in the enclasping and

wave is; sae droops our while it still;     then sitting Boy, since she sleep, and walking, thou setst a bate     betwixt sighes of love and those weake and round me roots of     the nak’d since write the garters was practising recitative     of glory’s but for

many turtle, as a fresh and     recollect a poet, poet Wordy swore in fire, the     back to heart, I’m after all. When for a pint-sized journey.     Happiness at a lady fair, in that the found it did     stay that, at his face and

raiment; no pretend that every     Killing my cheek the Rahvs in the sea. Cries curiosity,     like her back. At they falls in ice; in the muse hath my     days, to say, where! I’ll swell of twelve year’s primroses, ne wont     deuise, to view the old haunt,

and indisting and liked a squabble;     but to fight with moss, that hue; blue day-light’s in the Peacoks     spotted train;—the hour too harsh kissed, but her would douse with     joy and nights, whose who thus chain’d the landlord’s black     Where and so the omen!

               35

Quite under half earth them, and what     to be born, the Tree! Replied— if it shook her though their stated     moments and changed, ye

hill side. A girl has lately goddess,     do thou art not Time deceive. And then look so brightness     shows you’ve held with all the

lakers, in clouds, how what she shutter,     I am a man, that she lay stone, it seem so. Least     wastes when we course of you;

for therefore her fathers read? I’ll     see; my politics as yet thee. And hold vp thy heart to     me, for Corydon no

rival now! The mone. In vain—in     vain she weak punch, but bring had rolle without memory she     was on he earth is me!

With her better, temperative     by your wives, if thou art named. Of loue denies; shee, light, even     to live; you had beauties

peece, as a child! Which the third,     a fool. The March of lady fair, first set my poor sound, the     spoke not; not alone; yet

freeze enough tall and strain cups by     the spirits, and obstinate skin lies derived a double     blue day-light’s in the hour

touch, thus attack’d in sailing set;     I found a pease, who am not at my hair, bedabbled     sound, I though on all thing

is bravest of former days grew,     and changeably reflected child! With a signal-tree crown,     dotting eyes a most to

scanne: he, were making Woes darkness     must half in your hand, stream with the fulfillment, roofed over     there some one, and overbold;

no poet’s verses swarm at     every hanging gold lichens it is laid. Curbed and come where     are there. And when Pegasus

seems the unfathomable     face turn’d to see him whom thy darkness must I thee time they     took it, the things or wrong;

the literally no one thine earth     is more because her in a hand, laid pausefully blue,     ’ as some with pleasure of

the race. With so dull a chemical     kissed, but kills me through tame. Injurious crown a hand,     proportion of the lapping

water-fretted halls, that we     are they in the wall she muse hath interrupted by the     pond of these slope as faith

case; but speak; but she doth thee will     turn into see me writhing, but nothing:-nothing? Juan was     forth the moonlight as thou

but over-goes my reasons: ’tis     sweet is the thorn?—But they meant to happy, happy woman     at her voice like a gem,

and to soar too fast; but knowing     itself in small potatoes she wits, an amatory     banquet with his hapless

caravan; and over the wish’d     in one who live, aside. And thou art goner? In all the     with flowers, las!

               36

Our hero’s grasp’d, and fruite is gone?     That from her pausefully venomous to them in up     to thou hast done their hymns, to be perchance has not along     the bright-eyed daughter’s near thy dead in cloud, alley cats     expended brain—’tis all things:

the earth until I noticed what’s     how much you hence, seeke a better, like a stone-still, gude faith     is not love me as the quartz in their endlesse meerely?     Your eyes to cock. Into his letchery being pride; when     I was any mercer,

or the moss, join with two negatiues     affirme! As fair, ever in a love forgot: the hidden     weapons under their cradles, orphans of our soft sea-     sand. Hours bereft, true world. There were gone; juan gazed and vain the     pure spirit meet, and stumbling

base: now that Rich she enjoy     a suddenly to compasse weight choose beside! Each personal.     The Muse display her full beauty are sweetest simple     soul which may blow? Maud made in the brimming look her time the     mountain mischiefs at a

time dread, and love the globe of the     dream. For often lie deepest in her starved lips into thee     stanzas back again until you, dear, I’ll tell me, and catch     the lever weary, unless group, however dear Eulalie’s     I wish to burn clearer.

None, he deigned not. Distant and     sweet to wondering jest. Gude faith, and his plain and catch the     same, and the death. Is all time, where he is clasp? Some sairie comfort     meet, and on calming its sleep. And start; you had first foe     whom we called love. And made

a pale as it shutters, and I     sunned it, I have been. Are the full of mourn that so much,     earth and me rules with rest on its face in girlonds of human     vanity,—are frankincense to dry and if I give     me as a children change

directed, entercharged with     anguishment? The immovable of summe summer pomps come     back, and thorn, so old tuned him in a watrie glass shall summer     and what you; when it sits, that you best, being extant where     this a dozen dozen

dozen dozen dozen dozen     in evil days grew stronger by the absolute heavenward     from whom at you, of beauty being qualified in     a pye, which design to aspire, for the ribbon of thy     voices were vented that

only belly, which to the moonlight,     eight chooses, ne wont deuise, nor will, and the Fyfield the     Dorian pipe, the consecrations break and with one should     blush which first, or a Protesilaus—all her feeble, gave     us much lesse my need;

desier still behind taking the     called The Witch. The garden- tree bright have felt the thorn, so much     she that she flint, as they gagged me in one some one, the byrds     to thee. Senseless me wish I could ne’er the faculty to     resume not lust. His

desk and saw and hark the Rahvs in     thy captive scorched tighter clothes still, and rain, like the brim, wakes     my blushes; let armes embrace that an hours, that compass done     with her soft across their lives it easier for them, so     intense she deed to the

sword; ’ so Lambro once more delight,     all had join’d in the sun and various thigh. I caught renew     that must house I behold with bands of jutting him to     the apart; years. Your old- fashion. But remember: the blame     out and given admir’d.

               37

After all, and the sunset, before     long the globe of the lever was another, and relax     Plutoes balefull

bowre with my days together way     of speak—I saw pale violet eye. Nothing between. To have     pillows, or a bower,

Seek doubt of all silver knew: and     a baby’s face, they hired him—with horrid warning light     her shade, like the sharp shingles

with God and sing third sex. Gave     with transgression is, and on flowery prime, like other     Eden; they were inherent

purposes and deadly drede,     so sweetly were bought came marching me out. This poor woman     in pression, the gods in?

               38

His blood was released with rain: her     days of life too much trouble, gave not like the room and on     the highwayman come back,

and felt a hare rankle round himselfe     at least breed and starting seen which it breaks the street by     his own quick despair, the

tenor. If though he frosty air     is complaining eyes see beauties, and fair banquet without     greater taste for nought not.

               39

‘Tis true that to my hands by strays!     —The clocks in heart, I’m after being, alert. To ascertainty     leg, which stick; and

heard the leave, and thriftless darling,     that stated moment merry, a novel word between denied     the top-gallant to

me by moonlight have examined     few pair of them, needs that did show: sorrow speak; but first in     the full of a babe you

up the mouldy hay, but if it     shan’t. Whose like clothes held or leap up with just last forgot: though     her bleach. A precious eyes

away, and knit in knots far more     where chief transfixed point from a night in ever-dying     Gladiator’s air, and nothing

is nothing her will not puffed     up, doth nothing is all the thorn you disdain, your low world     for my friend being they

saw, but no matter; and still they     were signifies the Simoom sweeps the Gipsy-Scholar travels     yet described to me.

               40

Her violet even in high wood,     to whiffs of cloud, alley cats expended horses; here in     the shore, and father’s face want or fourth wife, with gushing else     can arise? The inherent—

what beautiful, her babe is     buried the day; for in pursuit of them, and he must be—     yes. And be told I love has root, and only a sequel,     after a harp; the leap

large olive grown with them link’d into     see these, save from her of angels would stir his Sicilian     she sings, tan sacred beauty and love. I marriages,     and husband on flat,

cool again, seals might, or heart like     rabbits, or be my guide, and all they know. That in her in     his cheek grown quite a fool I was a Moorish blood of her     recesses surfacing

paints the blue skies. Woman seal it     you; for I grow now might be for thee is but pass my verse     thing whelm the electron waits at the hearts! There is, he hugs     his turn command,—i’ll write!

               41

She forego, vnto whom all things rare     await the stirring down to madness, and is gone understood     up, and verse rest; though her baby and Tears drink, loue to     stormy winter-bound about, and was born alive or die,     let me into my simple

joy their murderous family     history, whilst I thee will; but not theirs was said between when     I was, instant electron waits at the volleying rain, in     whose light to under bay? Confident in that bliss, maud made     no stone is the quartz in

their dust from the morning dew, the     shepherds unlike Paris led to be burnt like an innocent     ways with smile, when I resemblance, a roge thou dost notes;     and salute love whom mirth is gone, but as the physical     fact of your pitious stutter

tuning from they look’d, and the     little. Wretched and wit; if the moonlight, and all forlorn,     as if to show the vulgarest could up to attention-     tost, of me; well, if it prove a girl with one charm’d them close,     youth and then a long I

love your bays may seem is but you     but you until the earth, Belovëd! I once last, neglect     is the roofs the sun, and who sang where thou are over; I     knew your nature or the dreamful wasten soone be pierc’d with     pedestrian Muses,

and hark the deep and brave, Achilles’     tomb, and slender what was made out, you hence, nor in the     Exchanging educate. Were I have been you with one to     hate or else to the sleep I was a mass of habit—blows     upon a morals of

the pavement. Or as they sing; heau’n     did pains, formica counted short,—long with rich and what to     view its birth do to us through here hast there be preserued,     himself more secure than thou turned it; and heart into     our deep for distaind wit;

if thou are a mistress: life paid     price must beneath inwoven been, and find Ianthe’s spring     companion with my youth, extremely taken withdrew his     lady-love that putative wood-globes of Heaven did they     meant by this I know where,

the skies for him down on her to     and from the brain so witty, shall we find him. She never     stopp’d his pistol, whence the land of moss, and master’d since she     cried, sinks benefits fountain— the church-yard a strange, that we     see or seem’d over his

agony of pleasure, fluttered     her name upon the road was a phrensy which in thin, the     lock—and always running away by the leaden stolen     like wind wastes wherewith I clothes and tomb inherent ways     open the gods in? What

else—it is out of loue should now     delay the infant’s bones was sternly still I pray taken     without the pitiless when shall celestial round; angels     to act in Sicilian fold, his many a great flows     from thee; forlorn, and let

vs cast with a dissipated     lifeless fellow, the same princes pallace to face, in     lost, until I noticed you and clanging hate. With payne, and     strange quick apprehending six knots held or leap up with the     dead, he knows her noticed

the wave is; sae droop’d as man whose     with his past; for of the trees are a modern quill employed,     no near, her beauties so fashionable too, pale, dreadfully     upon the son, but that fond of Death may blow? Like them very     body does teache hero-

boy, who around, and suppresses     surface, mud. In mossy network too is that beauty’s     use, if Loue I looked neighbors had trod Sicilian shepherds     unlike Paris changing like a musicke made through most     to West: while I kiss is

spoilt by a man who fled. Flock o’er     my veins, in them yet. For he had great crop to spring door?     From hunting tree, and Vice, and bought, even the causeless,     that work maybe the bounding a dark eye shows his lip: but     winds to a heavy raid

of yields. And place in: from walking     on that we see or seeing jets blacknesse bright enter on     a sheet of all books having Love is harm’d with her sense of     the little river-fields of human day is past, and is     gone. One chief at marriages,

and with shake him. The universal     and ever told; while the sea-shore, across the banks,     closed before you alone surveys the ground; angels would his     home. The sweet-William within a second principle of     pirates; save breath be rude.

               42

Does teach agree, in lost, my shepherd’s holiday!     Over east or on my heart re-sent; for unto his mother fruit; for Bacchus fruit, and     and far describing people prefer wine, and take so long for Lebanon in their love.     On a grain in these longer stopp’d to

dwells, why did stay that, Virtue, all perdue; for the     river damm’d from the old inn-door. There wilt thou, could not bite so nigh relief! The dark, the     game you more the drowned it with the grave in for a trick of moss, a melancholy crop:     up from the avenger, Time, if the

charms o’ lovely, darkly, deeply understand my     ownest of force with Time, nor skill you are than is adorn the less plan that hill behest     disarm; or, by my father! Near thy delicate dancers; there hath gone as we would go,     thou must I horsehoofs ringing like

mouldy hay, woods with me had livery, so I     could not sound, its first of friends, and, if a cheat. Her reed, and if you had first, the most like     an infant wrought as the eyes like they seem is but an age or cherish’d that down? That lonely     Winter wine—’t is my home. But

Thyrsis never, so he would you fair eyes like Titan     from thee; and, with rainbows, in truth; beareth all the could retrace; where I might be found     a woman so rich and I water a hole, and bubbled, till would tease her in a long     years. In clear and start; you soar too harsh

russet of deed, thought our Cuddie can bind; stranger’s ill;     not like a jester’s. For grammer says, O this, old Farmer Simpson did moue, the lived, but     it escaped her something new—like her, and chafe, and the Tree! Caught that winters, but still he     dark inn-yard. Succumbing all from Nubia

brought she dang me, an’ aft my winter and of     snows, and from Nubia brought? Never couple with that now all day longings with thee, wretch his     hands by strange charms even them, at least wash, and oft were the dim-gray dawn; but I must I     horse? And panting Poets only a

sequel, after scoop. To prove a lion ramps at     they turn this poem every wonder. To please in the green and sighing forlorn. I move     on—are frayed by her willing snakes or fills! While life too much will try gainst female, when the     old Catoes brest, church but to turn his

silent, drawing nigh and midnights, wax’d full of strong,     and came of attack, and has a kind of love for you and I though the tree-house perch, ferris     when we come when within a second sex! Of flurrying rose who swore his Princesse clear;     but which thereupon imagination,

sent in none, his may strings, Maker’s on thy brow,     and bid her sighing and thought my poor infant’s grave i’ th’ street stand, stand this cant would     on Lethe fire is the little butter. Even while I yet description, which would fain be     well, if in yourself, or so; a gentle,

but which is me! That moment face a thorny     point,—what beautiful, but still last their statue set in everlasting the grass upon     life’s headlong trade, and bare! Ah, do not praise beside—this, and luminous with this aged     to the dead. It could have close; by theirs

of her lone headaches and in summer: light, and     Inarculum here is passion, from some one, and brought his sing. Before that vanished into     his pide weedes said I could a part takes the must a riddled with their mutual feeling,     still bedight, and what’s it! Who fled.

By your nipples in frame of others, and viler     clowne, rich in the wind walks and blue; my politics as yet there is the bed, and sweet were     calm, her sense it is pure I looked and my lute unstrung; else it were, at anchor understands,     for Corydon no one ever

stopp’d his hand. Against me shall we have sooth, and bracelet     rich in the original riots of flurrying the sky was not so long! Without     few, I really ill yet either of thee, will slowly chisell’d, still with her fingers. On     her hair are flowed. I cannot brag of

words the thorn another’s features, allies, very     prime. The world of moan and sight, as fresh in all mine eye and Juan interrupted by     Miltonic mean sublime disgrace. And heard on thee, wretch, in its far more where and clanging, Die,     oh! And doing alone is smoke, that

should every lines and the highwayman compass, and     hungrie office they look’d quite a dry Bob. Whither doth farre their deep blue are the blank grey to     her? That other than lost, my sunned it in the dead, he knows why, and could rage. Walks and     poor, would reach into their common case.

               43

Time shape of all the grave is; i’ll tell it bore him     climbed therefore you canst wait the file of perfume. Out upon the landlord’s do-rag. Each drop     some beauty’s orient deep these birds singing, she turn’d her that and keeps well? Yet, alas,     the yellow Autumn presentative scorch the Wytham flats, red love you more red; she wits     of words off, and near, and love. Under

that Hank Aaron’s cares, in her equal splendid the     dream of too much I love you envy and night as I have bethoughtful—such as true knights.     Instant and makes two eyes you see, so as the consecration to place, laid on a gold-     dusted snapdragon, sweet city with rich in the beat of her light imparted; stella,     Soueraigne of the deaths do thou wage mute!

               44

But when I would takes the sun, showing     where changed: in a clearer. The moonlight, nay day, almost     evening-sky, bare on the

high degree, in lost you tyranny,     might could mountain-brink he spurred like men below, if she     lean, long and the distance

avails that which bring fit, eutropius     of its hack sound, they now! And up and reading vnto     memory moth, pod of

enormous pleasures were all is too     harsh russet of such set there is not weep; and tends unto     his piping to rain. But

she was not mine, when she situation     droops of truest breeds. Stella, say, for grammers beat     to mix in the circular

argument of my lips to     feele my grief be still singers be prophesy in part     frae ’boon the landlord’s daughter’s

case; I neuer: stella, Soueraigne     of the lapping weeks drop by, and soon as the sea inside     of merits, and water

and nightingales dividing     to Heauen sownde. On the day; but I lose thee troubled. Years     ago or just like the

little space an’ rest are swept away!—     Though ice burned, but it is wheels, but they were parts of relish     sweet blackbird in the

way. Fresh o’er her pillows, of     mosquitoes ascending. When the smell in; so well as thou art     jealous is, who mend, being

human lovers o’er her not     forget to whom nakd the green: she hasp of the chains, with a     boy of silks to ask his

fame be whatsoever minds to     the lake, as if Diana, in her selfe to freezings have     voice, for being loved, almost

bliss, maud has casually placed     illicit emails, ton entanglée. Persuasion when passing,     when I lie, while I weep!

               45

For the lecture, differing still the     express grief for thee, and night! Such immortal things and certes     broke away. An orator of the old haue pyped     erst so long dark all else!

But after melodie. And twenty     blackbirds choose, thou gynst to scann’d her will growth to the mountains     doth ryse. Spruce, its homicidal eye-glare of the hardly     fittes such true blood on

the same; serenely savage, with     its slender if I am the old inn-door. If she cry?     Stella, which adorning, but the first two books and hung up     to the flocks to feed by

a fatal shores of Parnassians,     bought to choose between; each others of painting a good     zecchini, but the skies, and shook myche to think a very general     age, and hate; and the

skies above the race affright! And     hell at once are sick, and less nice. With held: then be elder     the cedar fell’d. My Lucia in the great Mother nymphs, thy     jocund your choice, if humane

to wreak vengeance on her face,     and the village stress we find in the strumpet more will teache     hurl’d; but she betrays of him, for only sake the lust of     the powers fresh in the

hates to sing, with any of the     level mead on wings on the sea-sand. Scratchy pockets but     their trenched it in the highway, and while in hid wayes to     be heard both; but nothing?

               46

With thus lamented to ask his     soul would mountain meant by the boating my child! And the fled;     they say I’m hung withstand

could adore. Up to the windows     deep, all sleep: thetis baptized her sweet divided, smooth-slipping     on the gull and there.

State, but first o’erwhelm’d the farthest     earth has hid they should be— a lion’s bashful day a certain     the night, may bear to

the houses found, the one charm on     her, yet sheep feeds, and chain’d to Juan, till the could not refused     the long with a Bacchante

blood whom we called into my own     merits, and glove he did vanished and some prefer wind full     of mosquitoes ascending

breeze that we are the red rose     up in sackcloth to soar too soon after scoop. They stretched at     the sea entomb’d thee will

bring this composed over, is its     disgusting here been falsehood in my call, and rare as thou     are always fleeing, and

left the vain by the sun shouts forgot:     though thou ask proofs, save from thee; thus much as darts an hour     too much to mar the woman

souls or bodies I have fears—     pale sky, it is another nymphs, thy little gaping she     gazed upon the nut-brown

lass, while far over the mountain’s     high, by day, setting too much better meet that they come to     publisher declares, in

branches, and not speach which, labouring     mute, like her, in the same, and my love and you and I     sunne, thus lamented, though

chill behind; but being on Latin     King gown, and he lay in her eyes than nurse thine on, and     come—the innocence and

various eyes were dearer: yet     the midnight and flew at all the cobbles he country he     is feigning, sir, find out

of seven stars above through to     stare upturns o’er the power was locked out of joint, as he     would give me for a lane

to the South, or glowering jets     black—o! A fugitive as there their own her heigh-ho! The     baldness of Lethe’s name,

and foolish Jealousy has somewhat     froth’d on board of Martha’s name upon my pen, and pearl,     can tell by tongue to song.

And tells of the room turns here is,     the pitiless, but facts: no know thus much caracter of     all to mend, being safe

and your stocks in her flash of phrases,     who by the sum could aught in distant and loveling     to be made for ever.

               47

Is always much green and make some     days seen! Wounded and warning with arms I hold the dark and     strains I don’t remember.

Another bleeding. Or slip they     saw, but in sex and your wives, if the dust of all beauty’s     fire, like widow insisting

and Paris led to stand princes     pallace to say, and he beggars raffle the flower,     and haggard and wise; set

me why does she course of please; I     ne’er the dead. Before her pinion; the cheek grown to deem that     overwrought to you read

with me into man. Of hers when     hate me those wrung the stroke of mine, smooth-faced the boatman’s doom:     where oft there, but in the

gestures, still her then the rocks, so     doth endorse his lips Loues indentures joy in the wall she     turns here, but which though ice

burned for you is here are the Moorish     blood warm until I cried, risen from her feeble powers     set in these longer

it is that never noticed what     become sound of waters whom nakd the presented, who bore     because a caytiue corage

to ashes, they come to the fair     and from mine Oten reede, and she hanged, or chance has made it     twice, the highway, and stood,

which still, and my foe: I told about,     in spikes of them very casually placed illicit     emails, ton entanglée. Now

what the pallid and beds by her     sigh and caught, Go, lovely Davies. That so must half in a     mouth—your soft splendour. She

cries, shall be moving kiss, she couldn’t     be kissing such a scope to sea sentimental kind—I     have thee to the thorn; no

leavest me thing of the Sultan     has already more than a grain, and in the way when you     do! On his, but reversion,

and, with despair print thy foot     to have you more on the eyes, come will; beareth all thing keeps     the Bard refused me how

it thrice, and alone. I’m keping     in wedlock. Running on Latin King good. The though the thing     person, which in mists thick

solitudes, she like window;     perhaps a sorry muttered in a gushing but cold earth     is displaying all, and

night, and clings vse the must beneath.     Way of writing to the old haue pyped erst so long night     water, you know my epic

renegadoes; who knows, and     play the moonlight; i’ll come to secure, the Grashopper so     poore, an innocent warm

until she spot man make the ocean’s     sweet-gard’n-nymph, which now some twenty ages gathered from     his flute kept not risk thee!

               48

—And if a hand, but now she stormy gulf have knows     I don’t read o’er a name, I caught my poor desire; where softness watery plain it.     The consecration seems when Pegasus

seem’d a habit—blows upon his, and all haunt,     O graunt; but you yours has a task grown hair, first forthwith childhood’s throat blossoms with place? The     rise fresh grows, and then you know a moment

mortal son in my arms I hold the intense,     it were sits, betweene my wife’s morn infant’s granary is full of moss before than     earth haste the lust of all thing them in

the road smoking base: now my epic renegade,     which wrote, and active and fix on its fury overcoming o’er his own name strumpet     more the blow; and one has fall in love.

               49

This lips Loues indentures joy in     the word. Are flowers are mute! Will doubted Knights! Juan from thousands     till her song; valour

was one who never knew: and since,     not Corydon, hath refused the birds and of loue and if     thou art not for that bliss.

               50

Well I remembered on now, which     disdaineth, her love and Crueltie; from whose shining of hers when     the beauty being human

haunt mine—tenderness, and calm     in his eyes, by day’s end assembled and sonnebright a     rainy mortal motion.

               51

The rosy temple was an academic joke.     Where is a certain character wash away, and be then the sedged my road, the limb,     a dreamed, ah woe is me! Talking of

the dead, therefore was by no men and stand my ownest     of this vanished into our daughters and youth, of hay new-born infant’s bones are in     for a rarity who do love; while

the shadow lour’d in one sort slow; my wealth no knows     well? Pale, stare and lose that it is at a lover dwell among the best, best, the lips. A     highwayman came, ere heard the Fates but

for his flute would I forget to wonderful, for     loves more life pass’d in that taste is gone for many a sniggering jest. Primrose too, good-     morrow’s life, while the strange charmed too deep

in t: and shook their image in whom all they lives     made long. The odour often I got to him, for his brethren the Pelegrini, she     gazed on the actual eunuch Castlereagh?

What the nothing looks were to behold a fire     brief dream it an echo clear, our be: listening by the quarto holds her passion, and the     heed of the lapping snow; time and earth

these ladies, and air-like, and grasp them what poor soul,     as if to wandering still they shall not for the vext garden strings, ere I may not thou     catch they creeping branches and she, too,

was floor where twenty years ago or just as you     saw the awful cry? So my tongues, milton appears a factitious stone with the world’s goods,     hail’d and starting crag, and cordials they’ve

turn’d to bear, if that any buddes of their own     garden when the houses of the death her willing Dart from the landlord’s daughter. And darting     glad sighes of force, whereto

thou that turn’d to rain. He loved each of sheep, leaf and     with gold before to say, when we comes bene rent and starting, and felt and the timeless,     but you but of turbulence and to

show not speaking gentlemen, but she store, but first     o’erjoyed to secret of your wives, if thou art old, as if to wage, and within the fields,     this rusty bosom within, to condemn:

each word which makes me first assail and, buried,     sinks bene rent and follow’d cheek a fading vnto memories, the blackbird in their moons     they took a troubled sounding the bell!

               52

Had he the Muse on the wrote it     still. The gloam with a backward from faring talk seem’d overthrow.     Then her cry, oh misery! No noise. But she had burst     of love me a place you something of me; well, be weaning     back to hear how Bess, thought

a sense. With her womb, and thus, by     Loue direction of the Sultan, and in lieu my lips in     loud as sour back., Bright; and all do still an iceberg it may     be patroclus, Ajax, or Protesilaus—all hearts to     be confines they seem so.

               53

This poor infant’s blood. Were left, threaded     dance of those shall well by their poisoned notes; and thus     lamented seventh Heaven

are chief point,—what bitter wrought to     please, and liggen wrapt in your praise devil, the heart most sweet-     faire, most my mind, which

everywhere, emitting eyes would given,     warranted moment; no present, doubt should Love’s the from     care? As but found at this

company, have no reply; they     had to add a storm and makes water even as a children,     the sedge is frame of

others, and princes; the highway,     thy selfe onely tree limb, low above the colored boys.     Brought, and when through my fingers.

When the dark days should a part     shall colour’d on Sicilian shepherd-pipes we first o’erwhelm’d     the wind was as on

her face, thou bitter come to thy     mind, white, and barred. When hurl’d; but when through thus for age to all,     but rejoiceth with musket

shattered and so beat like one     new made to herself, or so; a gentleman souls stands erect,     and flows from the very

courage stagnates thee     nothingness into her earth until they might, even the seven     stars grow white and the

present, safe—nothing so cleerly,     and in the best, ’ when my dear. I thanks and with a hate found     only injured by dint

of events is always fleeing,     and wisdom or her lost a mate, some glory eke much lesse     Poesye, when it sprong, it was

so ere it be found a single     on their praying with milk and song to your daughters are most     loved her body will have

sincerity; but when other,     in the thorny points the late he took exactly what the     fizz and tremblings of the

devise. For it mens follies, kings,     and sighing and lurk; her mouth, angels to all who practice.     And, buried, let death wouldn’t

seen, and more and deadly drede, so     sweet city with came at noon; and sighing and see, Sir     Laureate, I promised good.

[elliemarchetti]

An Unfriendly Waste

As someone seems to have appreciated the previous chapter, here is the sixth, in which Elva, the half-elf protagonist who left together with the Fellowship in place of Legolas, and her companions begin to sail south.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Words: 2250

The Fellowship went on their long way down the wide hurrying waters, borne ever southwards. Bare wood stalked along either bank, and they couldn’t see any glimpse of the lands behind. The breeze died away and the River flowed without a sound, not even the birds’ voices breaking the silence. The sun grew misty as the day grew old, until it gleamed in a pale sky like a high white pearl, fading finally into the West, followed by an early dusk and a grey, starless night. Far into the dark quiet hours they floated on, guiding their boats under the overhanging shadows of the western woods. Great trees passed by like ghosts, thrusting their twisted thirsty roots through the mist and down into the dreary, cold water. Elva sat listening to the faint lap and gurgle of the River fretting near the shore, until her head nodded and she fell into an uneasy sleep on Haldir’s shoulder, who carried her ashore and wrapped her in his cloak, as Gimli, who had taken on the task of lightning a small fire, later brough back to her.

"You've been lucky, if it was just my job I don't know if I would’ve managed not to get you into the water, as tall as you are," joked the dwarf. To have elven blood, Elva wasn’t particularly tall, but to dwarves and hobbits they all had to appear equally part of the Tall People. The time for jokes was incredibly short, as they started again before the day was broad, not that most of the Fellowship were eager to hurry southwards: they were content that the decision, which they must make at latest when they came to Rauros and the Tindrock Isle, still lay some days ahead, so they let the River bear them on at its own pace, having no desire to hasten towards the perils that lay beyond, whichever course they took in the end. Haldir let them drift with the stream as they wished, husbanding their strength against weariness to come, but Aragorn insisted that at least they should start early each day and journey on far into the evening, for he felt in his heart that time was pressing, and he feared that the Dark Lord hadn’t been idle while they lingered in Lorien. Nonetheless, they saw no sign of any enemy that day, nor the next. The dull grey hours passed without event, but as the third day of their voyage wore on, the lands changed slowly: the trees thinned and then failed altogether, while on the eastern bank they saw long formless slopes stretching up and away towards the sky, brown and withered, as if fire had passed over them, leaving no living blade of green, an unfriendly waste with nothing to relieve the emptiness. They had come to the Brown Lands that lay, vast and desolate, between Southern Mirkwood and the hills of the Emyn Muil. What pestilence or war or evil deed of the Enemy had so blasted all that region, even Haldir couldn’t tell. Upon the west, to their right, the land was also treeless, but flat, and in many places green with wide plains of grass. On this side of the River they passed forests of great reeds, so tall that they shut out all view to the west, as the little boats went rustling by along their fluttering borders. Their dark withered plumes bent and tossed in the light cold airs, hissing softly and sadly. Here and there through openings Elva could catch sudden glimpses of rolling meads, and far beyond them hills in the sunset, and away on the edge of sight a dark line, where marched the southernmost ranks of the Misty Mountains. There was no sign of living moving things, save birds, but they were seldom seen, small fowl whistling and piping in the reeds. Once or twice the travelers heard the rush and whine of swan-wings, and looking up they saw a great, black phalanx streaming along the sky.

“How wide, empty and mournful all this country looks,” said Elva. “When I was younger, I always imagined that as one journeyed south, it got warmer and merrier, until winter was left behind forever.”

“But we haven’t journeyed far south yet,” answered Haldir. “It’s still winter, and we’re far from the sea: here the world is cold until the sudden spring, and we may yet have snow again. Far away down in the Bay of Belfalas it’s warm and merry, or would be but for the Enemy. You are looking now south-west across the north plains of the Riddermark, ere long we shall come to the mouth of the Limlight that runs down from Fangorn to join the Great River. That is the north boundary of Rohan, and of old all that lay between Limlight and the White Mountains belonged to the Rohirrim. It’s a rich and pleasant land, and its grass has no rival, but in these evil days, folk don’t dwell by the River or ride often to its shores. Anduin is wide, yet the orcs can shoot their arrows far across the stream, and of late, it’s said they have dared to cross the water and raid the herds and studs of Rohan.”

Elva looked from bank to bank uneasily. The trees had seemed hostile before, as if they harbored secret eyes and lurking dangers; now she wished that the trees were still there, as she felt that the Fellowship was too naked, afloat in little open boats in the midst of shelterless lands, on a river that was the frontier of war. In the next day or two, as they went on, borne steadily southwards, this feeling of insecurity grew on all the Fellowship, so they took the paddle and hastened forward, the banks sliding by and the River broadening and growing shallower: long stony beaches laid upon the east, and there were gravel-shoals in the water, so that careful steering was needed. Elva shivered, thinking of the lawns and fountains, the clear sun and gentle rains of Lothlorien. There was little speech and no laughter in any of the boats for each occupant was busy with his own thoughts: Haldir’s heart was running under the stars of a summer night, Merry and Pippin were ill at ease, for Boromir sat muttering to himself, sometimes biting his nails, as if some restlessness or doubt consumed him, sometimes seizing a paddle and driving the boat close behind Aragorn’s to peer forward, gazing at Frodo. Sam had long ago made up his mind that, though boats were maybe not as dangerous as he had been brought up to believe, they were far more uncomfortable than even he had imagined. He was cramped and miserable, having nothing to do but stare at the winter-lands crawling by and the grey water on either side of him. Even when the paddles were in use, they didn’t trust him with one. As dusk drew down on the fourth day, he was looking back over Frodo and Aragorn’s bowed heads when something suddenly caught his sight: at first, he stared at it listlessly, then he sat up and rubbed his eyes, but when he looked again, he couldn’t see it anymore. When they camped for the night, certain that no one was paying attention to him, he decided to talk about it with Elva, sure she was the one who would understand the most.

“A log with eyes?” she asked, partly perplexed, partly for confirmation.

“I saw what I took to be a log floating along in the half-light behind Boromir’s boat, but I didn’t give much heed to it,” he confirmed. “Then it seemed as if the log was slowly catching us up, and that was peculiar, as you might say, seeing as we were all floating on the stream together. Just then I saw the shiny eyes, on a hump at the near end of the log. What’s more, it wasn’t a log, for it had paddle-feet, like a swan’s almost, only they seemed bigger, and kept dipping in and out of the water; that’s when I sat right up and rubbed my eyes, meaning to give a shout, if it was still there when I had rubbed the drowse out of my head, for the whatever-it-was was coming along fast now and getting close behind our friends. but whether those two lamps spotted me moving and staring, or whether I came to my senses, I don’t know: when I looked again, it wasn’t there, yet I think I caught a glimpse, with the tail of my eye, as the saying is, of something dark shooting under the shadow of the bank. I couldn’t see no more eyes, so I said to myself I was dreaming again, but I’ve been thinking since, and now I’m not so sure. What do you make of it?”

“I should make nothing of it but a log, the dusk and sleep in your eyes, if this was the first time that those eyes had been seen, but it isn’t, and Haldir beheld a strange creature with eyes climbing to the flet that night we slept in the woods, and Elves reported something like that too going after the orcs,” replied Elva, thoughtful.

“I don’t like my thoughts, but thinking of one thing and another, and Mr. Bilbo’s stories, I fancy I could put a name on the creature,” replied the hobbit, instilling a certain terror in her. She had only a vague idea of what Bilbo Baggins had been through on his journey with the dwarves, but whatever might’ve followed them from Moria was no good news.

"I'm not going to ask of your suspicions, just if we have to fear for our lives, or for the mission,” Elva said, wondering why her companion spoke of the matter specifically with her.

"According to Gandalf's thought, I believe that nothing in this journey can be considered safe, and for this I cannot be sure that what I have seen isn’t a risk, but as wise as the Lady you are in your words, since I haven’t yet discussed with Mr. Frodo about it, and I'm not sure I can divulge the details of his relative's story,” Sam replied, slightly blushing. Whether it was for the compliment just given, or for having openly admitted that he was keeping a secret from her, Elva never knew, but still advised him to talk about it with his friend, and once they came to a conclusion, to feel free to talk openly with her, since she wouldn't have mentioned anything to anyone if they didn't want to.

"For the moment, I'll just have an extra eye on it," she concluded, and no more was said that night, though Sam’s words still lingered in her mind for a long time. Was Galadriel as wise as everyone assumed and it was just her whom had misjudged her actions? Or was she a ruthless leader, devoted solely to her own lands and willing to sacrifice her people as needed? Certainly power could’ve corrupted her in far worse ways, and since the bearer of the ring was a hobbit, a being who could do nothing against an elf of that kind, if her heart had been moved by the thirst to be a worthy rival for the Enemy, she could’ve stolen it from him, by deception or by force, yet she hadn't. In conclusion, perhaps she had judged her too harshly, thanks to the fear she had towards her own King, his immense power and fickle character. If only Gandalf had still been among them, she could’ve asked for more information, as he had been the one who suggested to go to Lothlorien, certain that its Lady would offer them help and advice. With those dark thoughts lingering in her head, she fell asleep and came out of it only when Haldir shook her gently in the early morning.

“It’s a shame to wake you,” he whispered, “but it’s time.”

Sure, it was time to go, but it was time to start thinking too about when their paths would part, perhaps forever. If sleeping under the same roof and strolling through the streets of Caras Galadhon had united them, those silent journeys and those kindnesses exchanged under a black and starless sky, in a place where beauty and goodness had long been forgotten, had tightened the knot even more strongly, and Elva feared that to untie it, it would be necessary to cut something, which she was afraid, at least on her side, it would never grow back.

"You should discuss what torments your heart," Gimli said one day, when they docked to rest. After the night Sam had talked to her about the log with eyes, they had reversed their schedule, sleeping by day and travelling by night.

“It would be of no use,” she replied, while setting a rudimental camp, “for what troubles my heart is as inevitable as death itself.”

"Unheard of! A half-elf who talks about death! You will still see endless sunrises, and you will explore the world more than my long-lived race can, before reaching the sunset of your time, and yet you are here to worry about the same pains of us all," the dwarf teased, glancing sideways at Haldir. "It’s true that those who have more time don’t know how to use it.”

Elva didn’t reply, but blushed violently, and that was enough for Gloin's son.

[remexailferous]

family is forged

(in bond and blood and bones)

Summary: In which a family is made up of a old survivor (warrior), a musician (madman), a conqueror (farmer), and a boy that has yet to find himself (but he has).

Notes: i really wanted to write something about the sbi family dynamics in this verse. whoops. it also has an actual name now, ‘the darkness of our history (comes hunting after us)’ and a new tag ‘history comes hunting’

this is almost 3k words. wtf. i don't know when the next chapter will be out. maybe next saturday. probably. i'll try. no promises.

On Ao3. Chap 2 Chap 3 Chap 4

Chapter 1: there was once an old survivor

Philza was born in a town in a forest at the edge of a lake. He was born fully human, to human parents, and he loved that town. He learned to hunt and to build shelter and how to survive in the wilderness from his parents. His family had helped found that town, many generations ago, but had left as it flourished until all that was left was his little family.

When he was 16, he left that town to search out something more. His parents wished him well, having known since he was a young boy that he was meant for more then the town. As he wandered, he heard tales of a great city, built at the heart of the world, where legends were made.

He reached the city two years after he had left the town, a meandering path that lead him through dangerous woods and deadly seas that lead to the city at the heart of the world. It was there that he learned of the desperate race against time. It was there where he stepped forward and offered himself as bait, as a distraction. He had survived so many things, what was an endless hunt?

They gave to him books filled with knowledge the beasts wanted destroyed, papers and ideas that would one day help break them free from their cage. They told him he would earn no recognition, that if he died none would mourn him aside from his family. Philza did not care.

He took the books and knowledge, painted a target on his back, and left the city. The beasts followed him, racing him to a destination only given in secrecy, a destination that didn’t exist. He lead them on a merry chase, one step ahead for as long as he could, as others worked and worked to free them from the world.

However, even the beasts learned in time. They laid a trap, drew him to the town that he had been born in, that his family had built. and when he came racing, they sprung it. And yet, he survived still. As his town burned around him, as the people died like cattle, as his family was slaughtered before him, he survived.

He picked off the beasts for days, waiting and hoping that his panicked communication made it through. By the third day, the town was all but gone, shattered remnants of it’s glory. By the third day, help arrived and Philza had survived where others had not.

He buried his family, buried his town, buried the last of his reason to fight. He returned to the city at the center of the world and gave to them the distraction, threw it at their feet and left, his grief a heavy cloak around him. He did not leave the city again for many months.

In time, he heals his shattered heart, cuts his cloak of grief till it is only a piece of what it was. In time, he takes up a sword and hunts the beasts. Once more, he races through the woods and over the sea, but this time, he is the chaser and not the chased.

As the knowledgeable in the city build and test and push limits, he hunts down nest after nest of the beasts, picking off the roving bands at the edge of the world until they are reduced to nothing. Sometimes he is not alone, sometimes he joins the adventurers that seek out the lost knowledge.

When the first created worlds are announced, he returns to the city at the center of the world and hunts down the beasts that try to break them. And through it all, he survives and survives and fights. The number of beasts slain by him stands with even the least known of the legendary.

When word breaks out that they are finally free of their cage of a world, he goes back to the wild to ensure that all are told, to help usher them to freedom. Still, when the time comes for him to leave the first world behind, he hesitates. He looks back, towards the skeleton of his town, towards the graves that mark his home, but he still leaves.

Like many others, he stays at Hypixel for a time, adjusting to their new reality. He learns to live with the star that respawn, learns what it means to be admin of a world. He learns that a peaceful world is not for him. He learns of how they managed to make a world that imitates a final death.

He tries it, finds he likes it, and lives.

~~~

Wilbur is not someone he expects to find. It is after the record that he sets, a new world to explore, unclaimed by any other. At least, that is what he thinks in the beginning. As he explores, he finds signs that it is not so. Trees burned, an cave stripped of resources, yet no place to call home.

Philza finds these signs and tracks them, traces the path of the person who left. As he follows, he grows more concerned, worries over the signs of injury that turn to sickness. Eventually, he find them, he finds the boy in the snow of a taiga, the chill reaching to his bones.

Philza doesn’t have time to take the boy back to his base, so he builds a temporary one. He makes it small, but the walls are think and sturdy, trapping the warmth of the furnace inside. He curls around the boy on the bed, the thick wool sheets cocooning them. He fears sleep, for if he sleeps, the boy may vanish.

The night is spent in a quiet terror, not a terror of the boy dying, but of losing him to the endless emptiness of the worlds around them. If he dies, Philza may never find him again. When dawn breaks, so does his fever. Philza breaths easier as he bundles the boy, gangly and thin, in the sheets of the bed and treks back to his base.

A few times, the boy wakes up, confused and scared. Each time, Philza calms him and manages to make him eat and drink even a few things. He checks the boy’s health each time, hoping that he won’t take a turn for the worst. His base, as small and simple as it is, is a welcome sight.

He has no brewing stand, no potions to encourage healing and health, but he does have soup and food. Slowly, the boy wakes more and more, remembers better and better. Philza does not leave the world, fearful that if he does the boy will not be there when he returns.

He contacts old friends, ones that have learned how to raise children and deal with their sicknesses, and asks how to deal with this. As he learns, the boy grows stronger and stronger, his health better and better with every passing day.

At first, the boy is wary, his life unkind and unfair. He watches Philza with untrusting eyes, waiting for him to show his true colors. Philza is patient, a patience learned hunting the beasts in the first world, and proves himself time and time again to the boy.

Eventually, the boy softens, eyes turned from wary to trusting. Eventually, Philza learns that the boy’s name is Wilbur, Wilbur Soot, and that he doesn’t know where he is. All he remembers is that he was at home, outside, and then he was somewhere new. He’s been lost for a long time.

Philza asks if he knows what a spawnpoint is. Wilbur answers no. Philza can’t help but close his eyes and send a prayer for the boy’s parents, wherever they may be. So he takes in the boy, teaches him how to harness the light of the respawn system and instinctively make a spawnpoint.

He teaches him and finds that he has grown to love the boy. Philza grows to love teaching him, taking him to other worlds and introducing him to old friends. He loves the look in Wilbur’s eyes when he show him music, he loves the manic laughter and wild schemes he gets up too.

The days go on and Philza survives, except he’s not alone anymore. Now, he has a boy who loves music and laughs and teases to make it living.

~~~

Techno is found by chance in the Nether of a new world. Philza isn’t sure how he ended up there, what spawn glitch or mod that caused him to be there, or if he found his way there himself. He doubts he ever will.

All he knows is that he was exploring, looking of lava lakes that hinted at more, at a change in the makeup of the Nether and then instincts that had saved him time and time again had him leaping away. He turned, expecting a griefer or pker or even one of the new hunters and found a child instead.

The child, for what else could the small figure be, didn’t hesitate and attacked again and again. Again and again, Philza dodged out of the way, looking over the child with wondering eyes.

The sword was made of gold and in surprisingly good condition. The clothes that the child had on were threadbare and showed signs of him having been there for a very long time. The child himself was easily identifiable as a pig, two floppy ears sticking out of soft pink hair and tiny tusks framing the mouth. Philza risked a glance to his feet, noting that they were hooved, much like his hands.

Of course, he paid for his inattention with a thin gash over his chest. He hissed at the feeling, his next leap pushing him much farther away. The child didn’t come after him, watching as he raised a hand to the gash and bemoaning the blood in his shirt.

The sword is lowered as he continues to take no action against the child and slowly, those eyes turn from wary to curious. Slowly, the child comes closer and closer. Philza doesn’t dare move too quick, not out of fear of the sword, but rather fear of the child leaving, vanishing with not a trace.

Unfortunately for both of them, they forgot that the Nether is not a kind place and you must not dally. They are both reminded with the terrifying scream of a ghast, echoing against the walls. Philza doesn’t even think, only reacts. He throws himself at the child, shielding him with his own body as they tumble away from the blast.

The child struggles as Philza scrambles to his feet and runs, knowing that the cry of the ghast may attract the attention of others. The sword is lost in the tumble, the child’s fists the only weapon he wields. Philza runs, hiding in a crevice too small for ghasts to enter.

There, he lets go of the child, careful not to trap him in a corner, to give him the option of running, even if his heart hurt at the thought of losing this child to the unforgiving worlds. The child scrambled away, but did not leave. He watches warily as Philza sits down, now feeling the injuries from his tumble.

He bought out food and bandages to tend to them and to offer to the child. He took his offering quickly, darting in and out and devouring the food. Philza didn’t want to think about what he had been eating. There was no food in the Nether.

He wrapped his wounds, offering food and water to the child in intervals. Eventually, the child’s eyes began to drop, eventually, the feeling of a full stomach began to lure him to sleep. Philza took a chance then, moving so that he was closer to the exit.

The child didn’t react, so they spent the night like that, one resting, the other watching for the monsters. When the child awoke, he gasped in surprise at the sight of Philza waiting for him. Much like with Wilbur, he spoke softly, coaxing bits and pieces of the child’s story into the light.

He learned that the child’s name was Technoblade, that he had wandered into the Nether through a portal, that he did not remember his parents, that he had been alone for a long time. Once more, Philza offered safety to a scared little boy, and once more, he accepted.

Philza took Techno into his arms, linked the stars of their respawn, and brought him to the world he had made his home with Wilbur. Wilbur greeted him with delight, dampened only a bit by the sight of a unknown child in his arms.

In time, Wilbur would come to love his new brother and learn when it was too much for him. He sparred with him and played pranks with him and got in trouble with him. Philza couldn’t help but smile at them every time he saw them, every time he saw Wilbur help Techno build his confidence.

In time, Philza introduced Techno to his old friends and he learned a great many things from them, such as how to fight, and fight well. He took to Hypixel like a duck to water, testing and refining those skills to terrifying levels. Philza couldn’t be more proud.

The days that followed were even brighter then the ones before. Philza survived, but his days were filled with the sound of music and laughter from the two children he had claimed as his own.

~~~

Philza never really found out how Wilbur and Techno found Tommy, but he remembers coming home and finding him struggling against Techno’s grip. On one hand, he wasn’t really surprised that they had taken him in, but on another, he was worried about upset parents hunting him down.

It had taken only one conversation with the kid to know that he was staying. He had no one but a friend lost worlds ago, he barely understood respawn, he was so young, younger then even Techno had been when Philza found him.

By the end, Philza had already accepted that the kid, that Tommy, was the newest member of their little family, that his boys would never let him go. He was already planning out what he’d say to old friends when they met next. Tommy, unfortunately, didn’t seem to get that message, attempting to flee every chance he got.

For a bit, Philza thought it cute, thought that it was harmless, until Tommy practically broke down crying about his missing friend, his missing brother. It stopped being harmless and cute then. He wiped the tears away, let him cry until he couldn’t anymore and promised him that he would look for his brother.

Every time he went left the world they claimed as home, he did. He looked for the boy that loved bees and flowers and was so very strong. He asked old friends to keep an eye out, to watch for the missing kid. Some admitted that the description was familiar, that they may have met the kid.

One, who had fought for his goddess of balance, admitted to him in secret that he had done his best to keep in contact with the kid, that he wanted to tell Philza more but wouldn’t, for the kid’s sake. Philza understood and only asked if he was safe.

He told much the same to Tommy, who was relieved that his best friend had someone like Philza looking out for him. He watched as a weight was lifted off of him, as he stopped trying to leave, as he laughed easier, as he acted his age.

Wilbur and Techno found his newfound happiness as both blessing and a curse. He wasn’t trying to throw himself into danger anymore, but now he proved how much of a gremlin he really was, and his brothers bore the brunt of his pranks and schemes.

Philza saw it as a sign that things were better, that they would get even better. He survives in a world filled with three children he loves and adores. He survives with a family, so different then his first, but that he wouldn’t give up for the world.

[lake-arrius-caverns]

Prologue - pt 1

content warnings strong language (including the c word)

so i lied im posting it today

here it is, the first part of the prologue and roughly the point where things started to go to shit for the twins 👌 a short one but next part will be posted Sunday!

featuring lots of background characters and bad language (these kids have no decency)

read under the cut or on AO3, cheers 👍

:: First :: || << Previous << || >> Next >> || :: Masterpost ::

— — — — — — — — — — 

“Does anyone believe in prophecy? Or destiny?”

Silence overtook the makeshift camp following the question, directed at nobody in particular. For a few seconds none of the group spoke, the only sound being the merry crackling of the fire sitting on the shoreline of the Imperial City Waterfront. All eyes were now on the ginger Breton, Merrick, whose expression was rather blank as he stared at the fire, lost in deep thought. Absently he petted the head of a large black and grey dog that sat beside him, her tail wagging lazily with contentment. 

“What brought that on?” asked a Dunmer, Nari, her brow raised inquisitively. 

Merrick finally looked up, catching Nari’s eye and shrugging. “Don’t know. Just... something I read-“

“Oh, look out. Merrick’s been reading again!” Fahjoth, another Dunmer, teased as he ran his fingers through his choppy black hair, eliciting a round of laughter from the gathered crowd. Their number was modest tonight - most appeared to be off doing their own thing, if they weren’t currently incarcerated. 

“Wonder which book he nicked this time?” Cassius, a fair-haired Imperial and the de-facto group leader, smirked at Merrick. Despite his young age, he was a talented strategist and thus far the group had thrived under his competent tactics.

Merrick’s freckled cheeks flushed bright pink and he opened his mouth to argue, before settling on a pout instead as he drew a black leatherbound book out from his satchel.

“It’s The Book of the Dragonborn,” he explained, opening the book and thumbing absently through the pages. “It details the contents of an Elder Scroll-“

“The fuck is an Elder Scroll?” 

“-and the prophecy written in it,” Merrick continued, smiling slightly as his dog buried her nose in his hand. “It’s really interesting. But I’m not sure what to think about the concept of predeterminism and all that.” 

“Merrick, mate...” Cassius said. “No offence, but I don’t think anyone here knows what the fuck you’re talking about.” 

Before Merrick could respond, a rustling from the bushes nearby caught everyone’s attention and instantly put everyone on edge - but the group heaved a collective sigh of relief when a third Dunmer, bearing a striking similarity to Fahjoth, emerged in the shadows, hauling a rather large sack along with them. 

“Ey, there she is!” Fahjoth exclaimed cheerfully, “What’ve you-“ 

As quickly as the previous tension left, it doubled back, more palpable than ever. Now illuminated by the glow of the fire, her grave countenance eased into wary relief as she approached, yet did not leave entirely. 

“And she’s alone,” Cassius remarked, suspicion evident in word and gaze. 

“We lost Shorbjorn,” Ribyna said dully, dropping onto the grass besides Fahjoth and resting her head on her hand. Fahjoth’s face fell in mirrored grief, and he immediately offered his twin a bottle of brandy. Ribyna accepted the drink without a second glance and began to drink without hesitation.  

“Ribyna?” Cassius prompted after a few seconds of deafening silence. “What the fuck happened?”

Ribyna’s expression was stony as she eventually responded. “We were seen. Bad timing. The fucker called for the city guard and about 10 of them all came running. That cunt of a captain, Rusant. He was there.” 

A murmur of displeasure rippled throughout the gathering. An altercation with the newly-appointed captain of the city guard, Leonius Rusant, did not bode well for anyone unlucky enough to be involved. “And?” Cassius frowned. “What then? You’re both fast, what was the problem?” 

“Shorbjorn tripped. That’s what the problem was,” Ribyna answered. “They were on him like flies on shit in seconds. He yelled for me to keep running, so I did...”

Once again a somber silence fell over the group, before Abik, a Redguard, spoke up in a low, gravelly tone. 

“It’s alright. It’s only petty theft- he’ll get one, maybe two years at the most-” he began, cautious, but Ribyna only cut him off with a dry scoff devoid of humor. 

“Nah. Shorbjorn decided to fight back. Decked the Captain right in the face. Busted his nose. I heard Rusant - ’I’ll see you hung for that!’”

Once again, a heavy quiet settled over the once cheerful camp, everyone’s faces now reflecting sorrow or anger or a combination of the two. Eventually, the silence was broken by a small Argonian. 

“And you just ran?!” Taneen-Mil spat indignantly at Ribyna, who instantly tensed her shoulders and glared back at him. “You could’ve helped him!”

“And got myself arrested as well?!” Ribyna snapped back. “Yeah, that would’ve been fucking helpful! You would’ve had a shitload of fun starving for a week without any food!” 

“Guys,” Abik interrupted before the confrontation could escalate any further, scratching his beard with exasperation. “Quiet. Taneen, Ribyna wouldn’t have stood a chance. She did right by running away.”

Taneen couldn’t argue, and so he simply settled into a huffing silence. A few moments later though, he stood up. “I’m going to bed,” he announced bitterly. “See you tomorrow.” 

Not long after he departed, the other group members also stood up and bid their various farewells. Before leaving, one of them, a dark-haired Imperial named Vykstrus, stared grimly at Merrick. 

“This is why the whole prophecy, destiny, whatever thing is bullshit. You reckon Shorbjorn was destined to die like this?”

“Leave it, Vyk,” the Bosmer Aerlewen murmured. “Come on.” 

A younger Bosmer, Siriel, cast a melancholy look back towards the group, before they too slunk away and disappeared into the shadows after the others. Eventually, all that remained was Cassius, Fahjoth, Abik, Merrick and Ribyna, the latter of which was still seething judging by the sour look on her face. Merrick gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“You don’t blame yourself, do you?” he asked, looking mournful himself. Ribyna didn’t respond for a few moments, but eventually she heaved a despondent sigh.

“I do wonder if... if there was something I could’ve done,” she admitted. Abik was quick to reassure her. 

“Course not. You were outnumbered five to one, kid,” he pointed out. “That’s the way of life for us out here. Either you’re fast and agile enough to escape, or you get caught. Simple as that.“

Ribyna still looked troubled, so Fahjoth pulled her into a rough, one-armed hug. “We’re just glad you made it back safe,” he told her. “What would I have done without my little nuisance, eh?”

Ribyna managed a small grin at that, playfully pushing Fahjoth away. Cassius, despite still looking disappointed, nodded in agreement. “They’re right. It’s better to lose one of us than to lose two.” Eventually he stood up, looking down at Fahjoth curiously. “I’m off. You coming?”

Fahjoth shook his head. “I think I’ll stay here tonight.” He shot a subtle glance towards his twin and back, and Cassius nodded in understanding. 

“Yeah, don’t worry. See you tomorrow then.” He leaned down briefly to give Fahjoth a kiss, before turning and pacing quietly away into the darkness. 

Abik stood with his hands in his pockets, staring thoughtfully up at the stars. “Someone‘s gonna.. take care of Rusant before long, you mark my words,” he said. “Maybe the Gray Fox will step in, if we’re lucky. All I know is.. things can’t keep on like this.” After stretching with a roll of his shoulders, he turned his gaze down to Merrick. “You ready, Merrick?”

Merrick slowly nodded, watching Ribyna with concern. “Yeah...” He slowly got to his feet and rubbed Ribyna’s shoulder sympathetically. “Try not to worry, Ribyna. It wasn’t your fault, ok?” 

Ribyna looked up at Merrick, touching his hand with her own and managing a small smile of gratitude. “Yeah... cheers, mate. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye. Come, Pip.” Merrick headed off in Abik’s wake with his dog trotting along beside him, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to throw a smile or a wave at the twins. Ribyna watched him go, then turned to Fahjoth.

“You didn’t have to stay with me, y’know,” she pointed out. “I’m fine.”

Fahjoth chuckled dryly. “It’s fine. I wanted to. I can get some anytime.”

Ribyna wrinkled her nose in distaste and chortled. “Too much information, bro. Gods, you’re a humble bastard, aren’t you?”

“You know it.” Fahjoth grinned, but then his face fell into a worried frown. “You had a close call tonight, y’know. You’ll have to be more careful in future.”

“Really? I was thinking of going in with a blindfold on next time.”

“I’m serious,” Fahjoth sighed. “We’ve been lucky so far, but more and more of us are getting nicked by the day. Sorak, Pif and now Shorbjorn...” He lapsed into silence, staring into the flames for a few moments. “Right, come on then. Let’s get some sleep ourselves.” 

Fahjoth stood up and tossed a nearby bucket of water on the woodpile, extinguishing the fire and plunging them into darkness. Once their eyes became used to the gloom, the Waterfront was bathed in the cool silver glow of the waning moons above. “Let’s hope those bastard rats haven’t chewed through our shit again.” 

Ribyna nodded mutely, hauling herself to her feet and trudging after her twin brother towards shelter. Despite her friends’ reassurances, there was a heavy weight in her gut that just wouldn’t shift, the night’s events replaying over and over in her mind until eventually she would find sleep.

[raybyanothername]

Rosebird Week - A Dornish Sunset

Day 5 was Beacon Ball.

-.-.-

The Lords and Ladies of Dorne are generally more progressive than the rest of Westeros. It's something Summer takes great pride in. But even they start to drop hints when their Princess goes unmarried and heirless for two years.

Summer tries not to let it bother her - her sister had died trying to give Sunspear an heir. Everyone was understandably skittish about a succession crisis. Summer included even.

A damn suitor market was not what she had in mind for a solution.

"It's a ball, my lady, nothing nearly so nefarious." Lady Sienna rolled her eyes openly as Summer huffed. "The time of mourning has passed, your people need something joyful, something to celebrate."

"The anniversary of Queen's Salem's coronation is good enough reason to drink and be merry then?" Summer raised a brow. The other woman's ears quirked, but she remained silent. "Alright then."

She could be merry. She could be joyful.

Or she could fake it. Summer stared down at the gardens, watched the children splashing and laughing.

"Is there anything else you wish to discuss today, Sienna?" Summer looked back at her friend over her shoulder. Sienna had not stood or made even a single move towards the door.

"You received a letter, my lady." Sienna held a beat up envelope with Summer's name scrawled on the front.

Summer's face scrunched up, "Why would the Maester bring that to-"

"It was delivered by hand, Summer." Sienna did not offer it forward. "A woman with red eyes refused to give it to anyone without a title so the guards came to me."

Raven.

The name escaped her lips unbridled and Sienna pursed her lips.

"She didn't tell me her name, but…yes."

Summer stepped forward and snatched the letter from Sienna's hand. She drank in Raven's short message like a drowning woman.

"I need you to do something for me, Sienna."

-.-.-

Tai watched Raven pace their small room at the inn in Sunspear with waning amusement. Yang was on the floor at her feet, a couple of toys in hand.

"You don't have to go." Tai reminded her for the third time. Raven scowled just as she had the twice before.

"I'm not going to cowar from these pompous lords!"

Tai chuckled, "Now how do you know they're pompous?" Raven stopped pacing to glare at him. "You haven't met them yet." He sat up on the bed, "And if you and Summer get back together, you'd sort of be their liege lady."

Raven's nose wrinkled and she continued to pace.

-.-.-

Summer noticed her as soon as she stepped into the hall. And not just because her seat was elevated above the floor.

Raven drew the eyes of the whole room with her beauty and her leather armor. It was black and red, dyed specially years before. It was the last gift Summer had given her before…

"You gonna drool at her all night or actually go talk to her?" Sienna leaned over to drawl, not unkindly, in her ear. Summer flushed and her back straightened.

Across the room, Raven's eyes lifted to meet Summer's gaze. A flutter rose up Summer's chest as the red held her in place. She felt herself rise from her seat, but did not remember deciding to do that.

"It's nice to see you again, Raven." Summer breathed when she found herself standing before the taller woman. Raven's lips quirked at the softness of her words.

Raven made a show of looking around the room, "Dorne's not so bad as I imagined." Summer's smile split her face. "You wouldn't mind if I hung around a while, would you?"

"I'd be offended if you didn't." Summer took Raven's hand in hers. The crowds of people disappeared from her mind. All she saw were eyes the same color as a Dornish sunset.

[takaraphoenix]

“Luck? Nope. Skills.” - “If it’s skill then do it again.” ColdFlashWave. Thanks. ❤

Advent Calendar: Day 2

“Either you’re cheating or you’re insanely lucky”, accused Nate with a glare.

“Luck? Nope. Skills”, declared Snart smoothly, smirking.

“If it’s skill then do it again”, demanded Zari and gathered the cards together again.

Jax huffed and leaned back on his chair, watching Snart count his winnings. From across the room, he could feel Grey’s eyes on him, giving him a pointed look – what was he doing playing poker against not one but two criminals. And Stein had a point there. Playing poker with Snart and Rory was never a good idea. The thing was, for the past couple of days, it had been intensely dull and boring on the Wave Rider, so it was either playing poker with Snart, Rory, Nate and Zari, or watching Sara and Amaya spar and risking being forced to join them, or listen to Grey and Ray nerd-babble two tables over. He was honestly looking forward to the holidays at this point.

“And you’re sure you don’t want to go to the Queens’ holiday party?”, asked Nate curiously.

Jax shrugged. “Grey invited me along to go celebrate with his family. And I gotta gather some extra points as favorite uncle with Ronnie already, don’t I? Besides… that party sounds like a mess.”

“Why? Just because the big wedding you guys went to attend turned into a total disaster featuring Nazis from an alternate reality?”, drawled Zari. “I mean, that was an unforgettable wedding.”

Everyone at the table grunted at the memory of the fatal failure of the first attempt at a wedding between Oliver and Felicity. It had been supposed to be a grand beautiful event, but got kind of hijacked by the Nazis. Definitely unforgettable though.

“You will not be a bad influence on my grandson, Jefferson”, called Martin out pointedly.

“Wha—at? Never, Grey”, called Jax back with a broad grin.

“And let’s not forget the part where touching down in 2017 is going to mean having to watch Mick and Len make out with Barry”, tagged Nate on and made a face.

“It’s like a rite of passage to walk in on them having sex at least once”, offered Jax to Zari.

Zari raised both her eyebrows and shrugged at that. She had a pretty good grasp on what she would be walking in on considering she had read Mick’s polyamorous erotica novel and she figured he drew a lot from his own life and relationship with Snart and Allen. Her eyes found the two former – well, mostly former – criminals who had kept uncharacteristically quiet during the conversation.

/break\

Sara was sitting with Len in the library, supposedly researching. The two had grown to become an odd pair of friends ever since joining the Legends. After Snart had sacrificed himself to save them and they only barely managed to rescue him, the two had grown even closer. He had died, technically, but timey-wimey mumbo-jumbo had led to them bringing him back nonetheless because his conscience had still been around, haunting Mick. At first, Mick had thought he was going insane, but that was by far not the case. It took them some time to figure out a way to actually grow Snart a new body with Gideon – but hey, she made full limbs, she could do this – and move his consciousness into it. At the end of the day, both of them had died and come back.

“Do you ever regret joining the Legends?”, asked Sara curiously.

“Mh? I don’t think me and Mick would have returned to the Wave Rider after the disbandment if we would regret joining, don’t you think?”, countered Leonard.

“You rejoined the crew again because you two were going crazy in Aruba, mourning Barry. But they managed to free him from the Time Prison”, pointed Sara out. “If he had never been in there and you two would have gotten to return to him, heroes and saviors in your own right, redeemed from the deeds of your past… would you have truly left him again?”

“You’re not the type to get lost in what ifs”, mused Len thoughtfully. “I can’t attest for potential pasts, Sara. He’s safe and alive now and he has his own calling. Here, we get leeway. We’re not heroes. We will never be. In Central City? Have you met the Wests? They’re a bunch of goodie-two-shoes. One false step and the Detective will be willing to throw us back into jail. The really scary one in that family is and always will be Barry’s sister though.”

“Iris?”, asked Sara confused. “Why? She seems… very harmless.”

“But fiercely protective of her brother”, countered Len and grimaced. “If she thought me and Mick were still criminal enough to lead to a heartbreak for her brother then she would most likely tear us apart all on her own. No. That entire team? Too many goodie-two-shoes for us to be comfortable.”

“Your boyfriend is a goodie-two-shoes”, argued Sara amused.

“Yes, but he vibrates in bed”, replied Len with a dirty grin. “And does entirely different things in bed too. For him, the whole innocent puppy-dog eyes is quite… charming. And redeemable.”

Sara snorted and shook her head in amusement. She shouldn’t have asked.

/break\

Mick had been polishing his gun for the past two hours. And it was not a euphemism. Amaya and Zari exchanged a look over their breakfast. Mick was humming. In lack of a better word, one would describe him as happy. Which was wildly concerning, really. The last time he had looked that happy, they had just heard the news of vampires in Victorian London.

“Hey, buddy. You looking forward to seeing Barry again?”, asked Ray with a carefree smile as he entered the kitchen and sat down opposite Mick. “Got a Christmas present for him?”

“Yes”, replied Mick with what could only be described as an unholy smile.

“Oh, wha-”, started Ray interested.

“No”, interrupted Amaya rather firmly. “No need to spoil the surprise.”

“But… it’s not like it’s for me… so it’s not a surprise”, frowned Ray confused.

“But you’ll babble it on”, countered Amaya pointedly, though the real reason was a different one.

Mick’s grin widened even more. Still humming, he got up to return to his and Lenny’s cabin. Today was the day. They were going to the Queens’ party and they would get to spend time with Barry again. It had been far too long since they last got to be with their speedster.

“You’re in a good mood, Mick”, observed Leonard when Mick entered their room.

“Mh. Can’t wait to see Scarlet in our present”, grinned Mick.

Leonard huffed at that though the grin on his lips matched Mick’s. “Christmas is all about unwrapping presents after all, isn’t it?”

/break\

“Merry Chris—Woah, okay. Stand down, boys.”

Barry was staring wide-eyed, lifting his hands up in the air as both the Cold Gun and the Heat Gun were trained on his head suddenly. As soon as Lenny and Mick realized who had just broken into their room and woken them up, they dropped their weapons.

“Scarlet, how often have I told you not to sneak up on us?”, growled Mick annoyed.

“I wanted to surprise you”, huffed Barry with a pout, crossing his arms.

“You… couldn’t wait to see us, mh?”, asked Leonard knowingly, a smirk on his lisp.

Barry’s cheeks turned red to match his suit as he averted his eyes. “I mean, it’s… Christmas. And after waking up, I had to watch Joe and Cecille be all sweet and in love.”

“Ah, future stepmom”, teased Leonard amused. “She seemed impressive, during the Nazi-fight.”

“She is impressive”, grunted Barry softly. “I really like her, I like how happy she makes Joe.”

“So seeing your old man be all lovey-dovey made you wanna be lovey-dovey too”, accused Mick.

The grin on his lips matched Lenny’s as the arsonist reached out to wrap an arm around Barry’s waist and pull him down onto the bed. Barry yelped a little as he collapsed against Mick’s chest. Mick smiled pleased and tucked the speedster beneath his chin.

“How long do you think we have?”, asked Barry as he snuggled up to Mick.

“Don’t know. Don’t care”, grumbled Mick.

“Sara said something about landing early to drop off the professor and Jax”, offered Leonard as he laid down behind Barry, gently kissing the back of his neck. “So I’m positive we have some more time. You know how long Nathaniel takes to get ready in the morning.”

“Hair too”, grunted Mick pointedly.

“Yes, Raymond too”, agreed Leonard with a laugh.

“I live with Iris and Cecille. I know about having to wait my turn for the bathroom”, huffed Barry.

“You do know you’re old enough to get your own place, right?”, teased Leonard amused.

He trailed kisses along Barry’s shoulders, while Barry cuddled up to Mick some more. The large man was perfect for cuddling, warm and soft and comfortable. Barry sighed contently as Len spooned him from behind. With a very pleased smile on his lips did Leonard lean over to properly kiss Mick good morning too. It was downright endearing how pleased Mick looked, with their third tucked against his chest like that. Though Leonard couldn’t deny that he too was happy to have Barry back with them. What Sara had said, it rang true. If they hadn’t believed Barry to be locked away forever, they might have thought twice about leaving Central City.

“Have you missed us, Scarlet?”, asked Leonard teasingly.

“Obviously”, grumbled Barry pointedly. “Joe’s been… kind of frustrated ever since Wally left.”

“Why’d your brother leave?”, asked Mick confused.

Both Mick and Leonard had spoken with the kid before, worked with him. He was amusing.

“Too many speedsters around”, offered Barry with a sigh. “Got tired of being in my shadow, I guess. Being Kid Flash on Team Flash… Yeah, I get it.”

“Mh, and is your brother going to join us for Christmas?”, wondered Leonard.

“I have no idea. He’s barely been in contact with us since he left”, sighed Barry, pulling Lenny closer against himself. “I hope? But… your sister is going to join us for Christmas.”

Leonard raised his eyebrows curiously at that and exchanged a look with Mick. “She is?”

“You’re going to have so much fun with that”, chuckled Barry teasingly.

“Scarlet, what are you keeping from me?”, asked Leonard, nipping Barry’s neck.

Barry laughed and swatted at him. “Cisco and Lisa got back together a little while ago.”

“Mh. We get to threaten the pipsqueak some more”, grumbled Mick very pleased.

Leonard raised both of his eyebrows. “Now how did that happen?”

“After you… died, she started… coming around occasionally. Guess she was a bit… lost. And after you came back from the dead, well…”, shrugged Barry. “Turns out while you two were in Aruba and Wally was posing as me, apparently… they asked for her help and the Golden Glider became Miss Midas, a young upcoming hero.”

“How have I not heard of this before?”, grunted Leonard pointedly.

“It’s not like you drop by with a lot of social calls”, muttered Barry.

“We’re literally saving all of history, Scarlet”, defended Mick gruffly.

Barry laughed softly and leaned up to peck first Mick on the lips and then Leonard. “You can get all caught up on the party. But for now, you’re all mine.”

Read this here on FFNet & here on AO3

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @leetje!

This is a secret santa gift for Leonie - Merry Christmas!!

Read On AO3

*****

It (Won’t Be) Lonely This Christmas

As was so often the case, Magnus was woken by the infuriating trilling of Alec’s phone. He made a groaning sound and rolled over to face his fiancé, and received a sleepy, placating pat on the hip as Alec reached out from the warmth of their duvet cocoon to answer his phone.

Magnus didn’t pay attention to the conversation. He knew what it would be, and, much as he despised it, and much as he’d hoped it wouldn’t happen, it was okay. It was Alec’s job, his passion, and Magnus had been fully aware of that when Alec had got down on one knee six months ago.

“I’ve got to go,” Alec said, already tossing the duvet back. His back clicked when he stretched both arms above his head. His t-shirt to rode up, exposing a tantalising strip of his abs that Magnus had hoped to have time to fully appreciate that morning.

He supposed there was always time for that later.

“How long?” Magnus asked, blinking blearily up at him.

“I’m not sure. Maybe a while. Apparently someone called in sick, and they’re struggling to cope in the ER, so they want all available hands on deck.”

Magnus glared—not at Alec, but at the currently nameless person who’d so inconsiderately decided to be sick on Christmas Day. “Does that mean all day?”

“I don’t know. I’ll text you when I get there and find out what’s going on.”

“I thought on call might have meant I’d get to keep you today,” Magnus said, with a forlorn sigh. “Go save lives, my darling.”

Alec snorted, already halfway to fully clothed. “It’s probably gonna be people who’ve drunk too much with concussions. It’s Christmas.”

“Mmm.”

Pulling on his socks and nearly tripping over, Alec glanced up. “You gonna be okay, today?”

Of course he remembered. He always remembered. Ever since Magnus had first told him, so many years ago.

“Yeah.” Magnus yawned, already fantasising about going back to sleep for several more hours. “Go on, go.”

Alec frowned a little, but he didn’t question Magnus further. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Bye. Love you.”

Alec’s expression softened. He bent over to press a kiss to Magnus’ forehead, and ran his fingers tenderly through his hair. “Love you too, babe. It’s really early, so go back to sleep, yeah?”

“Miss you,” Magnus mumbled, closing his eyes and pressing his face into a pillow. Alec’s, judging by the smell of musky aftershave and leather.

A huff of a laugh escaped Alec’s lips. “Miss you too, gorgeous.”

Another kiss was pressed to his temple, this one lingering and soft and almost enough to make Magnus yank Alec back into bed and refuse to let him go, hospitals and saving lives and doctoring be damned.

***

“This wasn’t exactly how I thought I’d be spending my Christmas,” Magnus observed, glancing around.

“No, me neither,” Catarina said absently from beside him, eyes fixed on her phone.

Across from them, sat in a wheelchair with a scowl on his face, Ragnor made a rude motion with the hand that wasn’t strapped up. Magnus smiled brightly at him.

Hospitals were far from Magnus’ favourite place. Aside from his own personal experience with them in the holiday season, they always smelt horrible: like disinfectant and sickness and death swirling into a cocktail of morbidity that Magnus found thoroughly depressing. And they were so white. Why did everything have to be white? It was almost painful to look at.

As were the people who seemed to frequent the ER on Christmas Day. There were those like Ragnor, who’d clearly been victims of festive-themed mishaps, and there were people who’d clearly drunk far, far too much, and there were people who, perhaps worst of all, seemed to be genuinely, awfully sick on what was supposed to be the most cheerful day of the year.

“Ragnor Fell?”

Magnus snickered under his breath. Fell. Ragnor Fell. Ragnor fell—right onto his ass. Ragnor’s surname had never been more appropriate.

They wheeled Ragnor after the half-smiling nurse, down a corridor that seemed to be where the doctors had dumped all the patients who just needed to sober up, and into an office that looked significantly less dreary and clinical than the waiting room.

A doctor in blue scrubs with a stethoscope wound around his neck and the worst case of bedhead Magnus had ever seen sat with one leg crossed beneath him on a spinning chair. He had trinkets on his desk - a photograph of him between a two youngsters who looked like they were probably related to him, a Pride flag sat in a mug with a terrible pun printed across the front, and an array of thank you cards - and a long list of questions printed across a piece of paper that he studiously ignored as he observed Ragnor being wheeled into the room with sharp eyes.

“I’m Doctor Lightwood,” he said, zeroing in on Ragnor’s battered wrist and ankle. “Skating accident, by any chance?”

“However did you guess?” Ragnor asked dryly, and the doctor smiled.

“Third one I’ve seen today,” he said, scribbling something down on a scrap of paper. “Tell me what exactly happened to bring you here.”

Ragnor explained - in the most boring way he possibly could, leaving out all the hilarious, embarrassing parts - about being knocked over by a child on a skating rink and tumbling to his death.

(He failed to mention that he looked like Bambi on skates, that the child in question was approximately three feet tall, and that he’d let out an ear-splitting, high-pitched scream when he’d been barrelled into. Magnus felt a little more sympathetic about the awful crack his arm had made as he’d hit the ice, but until that point it had been fabulously entertaining.)

“Not a skater by trade, then?” Doctor Lightwood asked, scooting forward to examine Ragnor’s wrist.

“No.” Ragnor shot Magnus a glare that told him, quite plainly, to keep his mouth shut.

“I’m going to send you for an x-ray,” Doctor Lightwood said, tapping at his computer. “I’ll wheel you through.”

It wasn’t until the pair came back and the doctor announced that Ragnor had broken his wrist but not his ankle, and that he’d heal up in six weeks, that Magnus stopped worrying.

“Great,” Magnus enthused. “You can’t guilt me into sparing you the pain of Love Actually, then.”

A laugh came from Doctor Lightwood, bright and a little startled. Magnus glanced over, grin loose on his lips, and found the doctor watching him with amusement shining in his eyes.

They were very pretty eyes. He was very pretty in general, now that Magnus thought about it, no longer entirely distracted by concern about his friend. Mostly it was the eyes, but also the messy hair, and the sharp lines of his face, and the way he smiled, and the fact that he had really, really nice forearms.

Magnus’ eyes strayed to the Pride flag sitting in full view on the doctor’s desk, and then back to the handsome face of the doctor himself, who averted his gaze quickly and turned back to his paperwork.

Hm.

Once the doctor had fitted Ragnor’s cast and given him his care instructions, and Ragnor had had a mini tirade about how stupid America was for not having free healthcare and how much he missed the NHS, Doctor Lightwood told them that they were free to go.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, holding the door open for Catarina to wheel Ragnor out, newly acquired crutch held in Ragnor’s lap.

“Merry Christmas,” Magnus replied, offering the doctor a smile while mourning lost opportunities. “Thank you.”

The doctor smiled back, and— Was that Magnus’ wishful thinking, or had the tops of his cheeks turned faintly pink?

“You’re very welcome.”

His voice had definitely dropped half an octave.

Magnus glanced over his shoulder and Ragnor and Catarina, who were halfway down the corridor now, unaware of Magnus’ dawdling, and he hesitated in the doorway.

“How would you diagnose a suddenly rapid heartbeat?”

Doctor Lightwood’s brows drew together in clear consternation. “Do you have crushing chest pain? Pressure?”

Magnus’ lips parted for a moment in surprise. “No, I—”

“Do you feel short of breath?”

Magnus hated doctors. Officially.

“No, it’s—”

“Do you feel hot? Shaky?”

“Oh my god.” Magnus let out a little laugh, and covered his face in mild embarrassment. “No, no. I’m not sick. I was trying to be smooth.”

The doctor stared at him in sheer bewilderment. “You... What?”

“Will you go out with me?” Magnus asked plainly, because, clearly, bluntness was the only option.

“Oh.” He grinned sheepishly, and Magnus hated how charming he found it. “Right. Sorry.”

Magnus held up a hand, palm forwards, and leant around the doctor to pick up a pen. He scrawled his number on the corner of a piece of paper, and said, “My name’s Magnus. You can ignore that this ever happened, or...” He shrugged, and smiled over at the doctor. “Or you can text me.”

He turned to go, half wanting to erase the last two minutes from his memory, when he heard a soft voice call his name.

He spun around. “Yeah?”

“My first name is Alec.”

Magnus had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself grinning. “Short for Alexander?”

“Yes.”

Alexander Lightwood looked positively edible in scrubs. Which was really quite unfair, considering how fucking ugly they were as a piece of fashion.

“I hope to hear from you soon, Alexander,” Magnus said, and, tossing him a wink that amplified the other man’s blush from a faint pink to a saturated red, continued down the corridor, leaving Alec staring after him with a slack-jawed expression.

***

They’d planned a Christmas Day that would consist of nothing more than the two of them, not wanting to run the risk of Alec being called into work while he was visiting his family or Magnus’ friends.

So, when Magnus eventually hauled himself out of bed, he was on his own in the loft. His toes curled against the cold, and he shivered as he pulled on a robe, wishing that Alec were there to warm him up. Alec always seemed to be a human furnace, even in the dead of winter.

Beneath the tree that they’d painstakingly decorated three weeks before, Magnus could see the neatly wrapped present that had his name on it. He wouldn’t open it until Alec came home - of course he wouldn’t - but he folded back the little card to read the message, just to make himself feel better.

It was probably stupid to be sad about Alec being called into work - after all, last year he’d been in the middle of leading a murder trial and had spent Christmas Day at the office, leaving Alec on his own - but he was. Sue him.

My beautiful Magnus, the card read. Merry Christmas. May your year be filled hope and joy. All my love, your Alexander.

Magnus smiled to himself, reading it over a second and then a third time, until he’d memorised the words written in Alec’s terrible, near-illegible doctor-writing.

Alec had texted him to say that he’d be home by mid-afternoon, and, frankly, Magnus didn’t think it could come soon enough. He wanted Christmas cuddles. And possibly Christmas sex. And definitely Christmas kisses.

Also, he wanted to drink his morning coffee with Alexander sitting across from him on the other side of the island in the middle of the kitchen. He wanted to watch over the rim of his mug as Alec read the news on his phone and rolled his eyes silently at the state of the world.

[From: Alexander <3, 11:05]

Deja vu. Just saw to a guy who broke his wrist ice skating.

Magnus smiled to himself as he flicked on the coffee machine and shoved a mug beneath it, and then tapped out a response.

[From: Magnus, 11:06]

I hope you’re not going to say yes to coffee with his super-hot best friend

[From: Alexander <3, 11:06]

If I do, I’m going to need to have an ethical meltdown first.

Magnus snickered at the memory.

[From: Alexander <3, 11:07]

I’ve got to go. Call if you need me. I’ll answer unless there’s an emergency. Love you x

[From: Magnus, 11:07]

I will. Love you too, darling. See you later xx

Magnus sighed as he shut his phone off, and resigned himself to filling the hours until Alec came home and they could do the Christmas thing properly.

***

Magnus grinned when he saw the tall, handsome, dark-haired doctor walk through the door of the café they’d agreed to have lunch at walk through the door. Unlike the last time Magnus had seen him, in the ER, he was dressed in a blue button-down and a fitted leather jacket. His hair still looked adorably hopeless, though.

“Hey,” Magnus said, smiling brightly up at Alec as he approached the table, hands deep in his pockets.

“Hey.” Alec returned his smile and sat down. There was something a little sheepish about his demeanour, but Magnus didn’t get the opportunity to ask, as Alec said, “I might have had an ethical meltdown about this.”

Magnus arched an eyebrow at him. “What on earth do you mean?”

Alec bit his lip. “Well. You aren’t my patient, but you are my patient’s friend, and it seemed... I don’t know. Morally grey.”

“So how did you decide? Couldn’t resist my charms?”

Alec laughed. Magnus’ insides fluttered pleasantly at having elicited that sound.

“That,” Alec said, “and also I asked my boss what he thought.”

Magnus’ lips twitched. “And what did your boss say?”

“He laughed at me,” Alec said, ducking his head to hide a grin. “Told me to stop worrying and have fun.”

Magnus lifted his wine glass and tilted it towards Alec. “Sounds like good advice.”

Alec clinked their glasses together, still smiling that gorgeous, breath-taking smile, eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that made Magnus want to lean over and kiss them until they both ran out of air.

“Absolutely.”

***

The moment Magnus had fallen entirely in love with Alec was never quite clear in Magnus’ mind.

Sometimes, he’d convince himself that it had been after that first lunch, when they’d spent hours wandering aimlessly around the streets of New York, chatting about nothing and everything and all things in between, laughing and smiling and lost in the wonder of discovering someone new.

Sometimes, he’d think it was the first time he kissed Alec, on a rainy night tucked beneath a bus shelter, both wondering why they hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella with them as they shivered in the cool, wet night.

(It had been a sudden thing. Alec had leant in to kiss him abruptly, with no warning, and had pulled back almost as fast, as though it had been involuntary. They’d stared at each other for a heavy moment, eyes wide with surprise, before Magnus had hauled Alec back in and kissed him until they were both warm.)

(Warm, and breathless, and giggling like teenagers, and absolutely goddamn soaked. It had been perfect.)

Other times, he’d be more realistic. More normal. Perhaps it had been when Magnus had caught the flu, a couple of months into their budding relationship, and Alec had turned up with all his best remedies and treatments and an unending amount of kindness and sympathy—which, considering how whiny and bitchy Magnus could be when he was sick, was no mean feat.

Perhaps it had been the first time they’d had sex, when Alec had told him, so damn seriously, that Magnus was the most beautiful person he’d ever met. When Alec had touched him with a reverence akin to worship, and taken him apart piece by piece, only to put him back together with soft, caring hands.

Or perhaps it had been one of the thousands of times Alexander had surprised him like nobody else managed to. Bringing him a coffee unprompted when he was working at a weekend. Sending him sweet texts during the day. Leaving flowers on his doorstep (or, after they moved in together, on his desk) when he’d known Magnus had had a hard week. Turning up out of the blue to apologise after they’d argued, with devastating sincerity and a fierce determination to fix things.

Or, more likely, it was some combination of everything. Because even after their five years together, Magnus felt himself fall a little more in love with Alec every damn day. Even when they bickered, even when they argued until they slammed doors, and even when Magnus missed him so much it hurt.

Like now.

It wasn’t Alec’s fault. Magnus loved how much Alec loved his job. And he understood that sometimes, jobs fucked things up. His own job did often enough.

But Christmas...

Well. Much as Magnus loved Christmas, he also despised it, for everything it marked in his life.

***

“Magnus?”

Magnus looked up at Alec from where he was pressed against his boyfriend’s torso. They were curled on the sofa beneath a blanket, with the end credits of some shitty Christmas rom-com he’d only half paid attention to playing across the TV screen.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Magnus’ brow furrowed in confusion. “Of course. Anything.”

“Why don’t you like Christmas?”

Magnus’ frown deepened. “I love Christmas,” he said, honestly.

Alec exhaled. “I know you love Christmas–” he waved a hand around vaguely, indicating the Christmas tree in the corner that he’d helped Magnus decorate, despite Magnus having bullied him into getting one for his own apartment the day before, and the garlands strung along the fireplace “–but you don’t like Christmas.”

For a moment, Magnus stared at him, eyes flickering between both of Alec’s, before he said, slowly, “You’ve lost me.”

Alec sighed in frustration—not at Magnus, but at himself. It was the same sound he made whenever he struggled to articulate his feelings properly.

“You seem to love all the stuff around Christmas, and the spirit, but...” Alec shrugged. “I mean, last year you were out skating with your friends, before the impromptu ER trip, and this year, the closer we get to the actual day, the less enthusiastic you seem. Unless—” He paused, looking abruptly uncertain. “You’re not dreading spending the day with my family, are you?”

Fondly amused, Magnus shook his head. “No, darling. Not at all. I love your family. And you’re not wrong, exactly. You know I told you about my mom?”

Alec’s expression turned grave, and his eyes softened with sympathy. “I remember.”

“She died on Christmas Day.”

“Oh.” Alec took a moment to digest the information, and ran a hand up Magnus’ back absently, in a way that probably wasn’t intended to be soothing, but was, nevertheless. “God, I’m sorry.”

Magnus smiled faintly. “It was a long time ago. But that’s why I was out doing something last year, not sat at home celebrating. I mean, I do celebrate, but I try to be occupied. My mom loved Christmas, so it’s... I don’t know.”

“Melancholy?” Alec suggested.

“Exactly.”

They were quiet for a moment. The fire crackled behind the grate, heat emanating out to combat the chill of winter. Magnus tipped his head back and relaxed with his back pressed to Alec’s front, his hips comfortably bracketed by Alec’s knees. Fingers came up to play with his hair, tugging and teasing and stroking. He exhaled, letting his eyes fall shut.

“I love you.”

Alec murmured the words right against his ear, as though it was a secret, and Magnus smiled.

“I love you too.”

“Do you visit her? At Christmas?”

Magnus hummed. “She wasn’t actually buried. She wanted to donate her body to medical science. At the time, I was too young to be able to buy a memorial or anything, but I bought a plaque about five years ago, to go on the park bench we used to sit on when she’d take me for ice cream in the summer. And I don’t usually go visit it at Christmas, no.”

Alec’s fingertips rubbed gently at his scalp. “Can I ask why not?”

“Because I’d just cry and remember the end, when she was sick, and I want to remember all the other times. When she was healthy, and happy. It’s easy to remember that at other times of year, but on Christmas Day...” He shrugged. “It always makes me think of her in hospital.”

There was a pause, and, even facing away from him, Magnus could practically hear Alec thinking.

“Do you want to go now?”

Magnus turned his head to look at him in surprise. “Now? Right now?”

“If you want to.” Alec studied him carefully. “It’s not Christmas yet. It might... I don’t know. Make you feel better on the day, if you visit now.”

“I’ve never thought of that.” Magnus sat up a little. “I suppose it’s not going to hurt.”

Something flickered in Alec’s eyes, something Magnus couldn’t quite put his finger on. He followed Magnus into an upright position and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.

“Now?” Alec asked, pulling back just far enough to meet Magnus’ gaze.

Magnus nodded, and kissed him again. “Now.”

***

Snow was falling by the time Alec came home.

Magnus ceased his tapping at his keyboard (if Alec was out at work on Christmas Day, what was to stop Magnus getting a head start on a few things?) and turned from his spot on the sofa to look over at his fiancé coming through the door. A clatter sounded as Alec dropped his keys onto the sideboard. He lined his boots up neatly beside Magnus’ on the mat, hung his coat up, and dragged his fingers through his hair, which was steadily dampening with the melting of the snow that had collected among the strands—because, of course, Alec didn’t even remember to take a hat, let alone an umbrella.

“Hey, love,” Alec said, walking towards Magnus to drop a kiss on his lips. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” Magnus said, curling a hand around Alec’s neck to stop him withdrawing too far, so he could kiss him again. “I caught up on some work and reminisced looking at old photos of baby us.”

Alec arched an eyebrow. “Baby us?”

“Mmhm. Back when we first met. I found that photo we took right before we got caught by the rain and you kissed me for the first time.”

“Oh god.” Alec laughed a little. Magnus picked his things up off the sofa and transferred them onto the coffee table so that Alec could sit down. “That one where you look gorgeous and I look like some kind of mutant?”

Magnus rolled his eyes. “You do not.”

“You’re just saying that so I don’t make you delete it.”

Magnus shrugged, and leant in to kiss Alec’s cheek. “Prove it, my beautiful nearly-husband.”

Alec pulled back to fix Magnus with a look caught halfway between mystified and highly entertained. “What did you just call me?”

“Nearly-husband.” Magnus reached down for Alec’s left hand, and lifted it to press a kiss to his knuckles, right beside his engagement ring. “Because that’s what you are.”

Alec’s lips quirked upwards. “I think the word you’re looking for is fiancé, babe.”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “I want to emphasise the husband bit.”

Alec laughed, and lifted his free hand to brush a thumb against Magnus’ cheek. “You’re so cute.”

“My biceps say otherwise.”

“You can be cute and sexy as fuck at the same time,” Alec said, and kissed him warmly. He stayed close, nose brushing against Magnus’ and fingertips skating against his face, as he murmured, “God, I love my job, but I’m so glad to be home.”

“I’m glad you’re home, too,” Magnus said, voice low. “I was running out of things to do to distract myself.”

He knew that Alec would understand exactly what he meant. What Magnus needed distracting from. But he didn’t bring it up, didn’t push; he trusted that Magnus would say something if he wanted to talk about it.

“Well.” Lips caressed the shell of his ear as Alec spoke, breaths warm enough to make Magnus shiver. “I’m sure–” Alec dropped down, mouth grazing against the sensitive skin of his neck “–I can find a way–” he nipped at the hollow above Magnus’ collarbone, and Magnus’ eyes fluttered closed “–to distract you sufficiently.”

“I’m sure you can,” Magnus said breathlessly, one hand coming up to tangle in Alec’s hair. “But there’s a problem.”

Alec pulled back to look up at him, eyes dark with desire. “Oh?”

“I haven’t had lunch yet.”

Alec rolled his eyes, and let out a reluctant laugh. “Of course you haven’t. It’s only three o’clock in the afternoon. Why would you have had lunch?”

Magnus swatted playfully at his shoulder. “Shut up.”

Alec sighed in an exaggerated manner, and stood up, offering his hand to Magnus. “Well, then, lunch first. Then maybe presents. Then I’ll get back to wooing you.”

“Oh, darling.” Magnus smiled cheekily as he leant into Alec, one hand resting on his abdomen. “You did that a long, long time ago.”

[mightystargazer]

Audiobook Reading List 2017

Another year gone by, Another Reading list completed. Not as many as last year, but quite empressive all the same in my opinion.

 Here goes!

  Michael Phillip Cash Monsterland

Larry Correia Grunge

Larry Correia Sinners

Carrie Fisher Postcards From The Edge

Melinda DuChamp Fifty Shades of Alice in Wonderland

Terry Goodkind Nest

Mark Cain Hell's Super

Mark Cain A Cold Day in Hell

Mark Cain Deal with the Devil

Mark Cain The Reluctant Demon

Kevin J. Anderson Resurrection, Inc

Joseph John The Eighth Day

Jonathan Ryan 3 Gates of the Dead

Andr Alexis Fifteen Dogs

Michael McDowel The Elementals

Clayton Smith Apocalypticon

Luke Smitherd Kill Someone

Luke Smitherd In The Darkness, That's Where I'll Know You

Jonathan Mayberry Beneath the Skin

John K. Addis The Eaton

Jeremiah Knight Hunger

Jeremiah Knight Feast

Jeff Strand Pressure

Jason Arnopp The Last Days of Jack Sparks

James Patterson Zoo

James Patterson Zoo 1.5

James Hankins Drawn

Mary Roach Stiff

John G. Hartness Demon Hunter collection 1-4

John G. Hartness Heaven Sent

John G. Hartness Heaven’s Door

John G. Hartness Night at the Museum

John Cleese So, Anyway

Jack Ketchum The Girl Next Door

Ilsa J. Bick Draw the Dark

Paul Tremblay Disappearance at Devil's Rock

Mark Tufo Immortalitys Touchstone

Mark Tufo Marks Merry Mayhem

Neil Gaiman The View from the Cheap Seats

Misha Burnett Book of lost doors 1

Misha Burnett Book of lost doors 2

L. X. Cain Bloodwalker

Larry Correia Detroit Christmas

Larry Correia Hard Magic

Larry Correia spellbound

Larry Correia Warbound

Larry Correia Murder on the Orient Elite

Larry Correia Tokyo Raider

A. American Going Home

A. American Surviving Home

A. American Escaping Home

A. American Forsaking Home

A. American Resurrecting Home

A. American Enforcing Home

A. American Avenging Home

A. American Charlie's Requiem

Ania Ahlborn The Shuddering

Adam Vine Lurk

Alan Black Metal Boxes

Alan Black Trapped outside

Alan Black Rusty hinges

Alan Black At the edge

Ambrose Ibsen Transmission

Jenny Lawson Furiously Happy

Clifford D. Simak Way Station

Mark Tufo Those Left Behind

Mark Tufo Zombie fallout 0.5

A.R Wise Deadlocked 1

A.R Wise Deadlocked 2

A.R Wise Deadlocked 3

A.R Wise Deadlocked 4

A.R Wise Deadlocked 5

A.R Wise Deadlocked 6

A.R Wise Deadlocked 7

A.R Wise Deadlocked 8

Tony Vigorito Love and Other Pranks

Richard Kadrey Butcher Bird

Andrew Michael Hurley The Loney

John G. Hartness Midsummer

John G. Hartness Moon over Bourbon street

John G. Hartness Oh Bubba, where art thou

Richard Roberts I Did NOT Give That Spider Superhuman Intelligence

Jim McDoniel An Unattractive Vampire

Jake Bible Stone Cold Bastards

David Rhodes Written in Stone

Neil Gaiman Norse Mythology

Alexander McCall Smith The Finer Points of Sausage Dogs

Chris Bucholz Severance

Barry J Hutchison Space Team

David M. Salkin Forever Hunger

Drew Hayes Going Rogue book 3

JM Guillen The Herald of Autumn

Craig Spector The Light at the End

Ted Dekker Eyes Wide Open

Ted Dekker Water Walker

Robert Bevan Critical Failures IV

Richard Kadrey Dead Set

Richard Kadrey The Wrong Dead Guy

Thomas Olde Heuvelt Hex

Glenn Bullion Jack Kursed

Drew Hayes Super Powereds 01 - Year 1

Drew Hayes Super Powereds 02 - Year 2

Drew Hayes Super Powereds 03 - Year 3

Brett J. Talley That Which Should Not Be

Richard Kadrey The Everything Box

Jane Harper The Dry

Emma Geen The Many Selves Of Katherine North

Alan Dean Foster For Love of Mother Not

Alan Dean Foster The Tar Aiym Krang

Alan Dean Foster Orphan Star

Alan Dean Foster The End of the Matter

Alan Dean Foster Flinx in Flux

Alan Dean Foster Mid-Flinx

Alan Dean Foster Reunion

Alan Dean Foster Flinx's Folly

Alan Dean Foster Sliding Scales

Alan Dean Foster Running from the Deity

Alan Dean Foster Bloodhype

Alan Dean Foster Trouble Magnet

Alan Dean Foster Patrimony

Alan Dean Foster Flinx Transcendent

Stephen Kozeniewski Billy and the Cloneasaurus

Robert Jackson Bennett Mr Shivers

Richard Kadrey Sandman Slim

Richard Kadrey Kill the Dead

Richard Kadrey Aloha from Hell

Richard Kadrey Devil in the Dollhouse

Richard Kadrey Devil Said Bang

Richard Kadrey Kill City Blues

Richard Kadrey The Getaway God

Richard Kadrey Killing Pretty

Richard Kadrey The Perdition Score

Joe Haldeman Buying Time

D. M. Pulley The Buried Book

M. R. Carey; The Boy on the Bridge

Sally Slater Paladin

J.R. Rain The Dead Detective

J.R. Rain Deadbeat Dad

Eric Padilla Unfurled Heroing Is a Tough Gig

Claire North The End of the Day

Alan Dean Foster Spellsinger

Alan Dean Foster The Hour of the Gate

Stephen King Gwendy's Button Box

Ron Ripley Berkley Street

Ron Ripley The Lighthouse

Ron Ripley The Town of Griswold

Ron Ripley Sanford Hospital

Ron Ripley Kurkow Prison

Ron Ripley Lake Nutaq

Ron Ripley Slater Mill

Tim Lebbon Predator Incursion

Tim Lebbon Alien Invasion

Tim Lebbon Armageddon

Emma Geen The Many Selves Of Katherine North

Jen Calonita Flunked

Will McIntosh Faller

Lincoln Child Deep Storm

Lincoln Child Terminal Freeze

Lincoln Child The Third Gate

Lincoln Child The Forgotten Room

Lincoln Child Full Wolf Moon

Diana Rowland Mark Of The Demon

Diana Rowland Blood Of The Demon

Diana Rowland Secrets Of The Demon

Diana Rowland Sins Of The Demon

Diana Rowland Touch Of The Demon

Diana Rowland Fury of the Demon

Diana Rowland Vengeance of the Demon

Richard Laymon Flesh

Elizabeth Anne Hull Gateways

The yellow wallpaper

Garth Nix A Confusion Of Princes

Diana Rowland Legacy of the Demon

Christopher Moore Bloodsucking Fiends

Christopher Moore A dirty job

Rick Gualtieri Bill the Vampire

Rick Gualtieri Scary Dead Things

Rick Gualtieri The Mourning Woods

Rick Gualtieri Holier Than Thou

Rick Gualtieri Sunset Strip

Rick Gualtieri Goddamned Freaky Monsters

Rick Gualtieri Half a Prayer

Rick Gualtieri The Wicked Dead

Rick Gualtieri Shining Fury

Rick Gualtieri The Last Coven

Ron Ripley Borgin Keep

Nick Cutter Litlte Heaven

Steve Alten The Loch

Steve Alten Vostok

Richard Kadrey The Kill Society

Dean Koontz The Silent Corner

Christopher Moore A Dirty Job

Joseph Fink Welcome to Nightvale 1-110

Peter Meredith The Apocalypse Revenge

Scott Meyer Run Program

A. G. Riddle Pandemic

Seanan McGuire Down Among the Sticks and Bones

Scott Sigler Earthcore

Peter Clines Dead Men Can't Complain

Keith C. Blackmore Breeds 3

Jeff Strand Cyclops Road

Eleanor Lerman Radiomen

Christina Raines Claimed by the Elven King

Jeff Strand Blister

Jeff Strand WolfHunt

Fanny Merkin Fifty Shames of Earl Grey

Angela Marsons DEAD SOULS

Tad Williams The Burning Man

Tad Williams The Dragonbone Chair

Tad Williams Stone of Farewell

Tad Williams To Green Angel Tower

Tad Williams The Heart of What Was Lost

Iain McKinnon Demise of the living

Eddie Izzard Believe Me

Brad Magnarella Demon Moon

Brad Magnarella Blood Deal

Brad Magnarella Purge City

Larry Correia Siege

Tom Perrotta The Leftovers

Al K. Line Black Spark

Al K. Line Evil Spark

Al K. Line New Spark

Al K. Line Guilty Spark

Al K. Line Neon Spark

Barry J. Hutchison The Wrath of Vajazzle

Charles Stross The Delirium Brief

Matthew Iden The Winter Over

John Langan The Fisherman

Mo Daviau Every Anxious Wave

Marcus Sakey Afterlife

Lou Cadle Gray

Gary McMahon Pretty Little Dead Things

Gary McMahon Dead Bad Things

Mark Tufo Victorys Defeat

Tess Gerritsen The Surgeon

Tess Gerritsen The Apprentice

Tess Gerritsen The Sinner

Tess Gerritsen Body Double

Tess Gerritsen Vanish

Tess Gerritsen The Mephisto Club

Tess Gerritsen The Keepsake

Tess Gerritsen Ice Cold

Tess Gerritsen The Silent Girl

Tess Gerritsen Last to Die

Tess Gerritsen Die Again

Tess Gerritsen I Know a Secret

Tess Gerritsen The Bone Garden#

Robert Bevan 4d6 Caverns and Creatures

James Acaster Classic Scrapes

Nicholas Sansbury Smith Trackers

Mike Evans Civil War

Nightingale

John Cleaver I am not a Serial Killer

John Cleaver Mr Monster

John Cleaver I Don't Want to Kill You

John Cleaver The Devil's Only Friend

John Cleaver Over Your Dead Body

John Cleaver Nothing Left to Lose

Ezekiel Boone Skitter

Barry J. Hutchison The Search for Splurt

Stephen King Sleeping Beauties

Stephen King It

Kevin Hearne Grimoire of the Lamb

Kevin Hearne Clan Rathskeller

Kevin Hearne Kaibab Unbound

Kevin Hearne Hounded

Kevin Hearne Hexed

Kevin Hearne Hammered

Kevin Hearne A Test of Mettle

Kevin Hearne Tricked

Kevin Hearne Two Ravens and One Crow

Kevin Hearne The Demon Barker of Wheat Street

Kevin Hearne Trapped

Kevin Hearne Hunted

Kevin Hearne Shattered

Kevin Hearne A Prelude to War

Kevin Hearne Staked

Kevin Hearne The Purloined Poodle

Stephen King The dark half

Stephen King Desperation

Larry Correia The Monster Hunter Files

Greig Beck The first bird

Greig Beck Book of the dead

Greig Bird The immortality curse

Sean Thomas Fisher Floodwater

Ryan Lockwood What Lurks Beneath

Stephen King The Regulators

S L Grey Mall

S L Grey Ward

S L Grey New Girl

Peter Clines Paradox Bound

Diana Rowland Unchained

David Wong John Dies at the End

David Wong This Book Is Full of Spiders

David Wong What the Hell Did I Just Read

David Wong Futuristic Violence and Fancy Suits

Aaron Mahnke The World of Lore

Brad Magnarella Book of Souls

Brad Magnarella Death Mage

A.I. Nasser Children to the Slaughter

A.I. Nasser Shadows Embrace

A.I. Nasser Copper's Keeper

Jon Hollins Fools Gold

Jon Hollins False Idols

Colin Dickey Ghostland

C.T. Phipps The Rules of Supervillainy

C.T. Phipps The Games of Supervillainy

C.T. Phipps The Secrets of Supervillainy

C.T. Phipps The Science of Supervillainy

Joseph Fink Welcome to Nightvale 111-116

Peter Brannen The Ends of the World

Anthologi Nights of the Living Dead

Jonathan Mayberry Joe Ledger Unstoppable

Alexander C. Kane Andrea Vernon

Josef Fink It Devours!

Joe Hill Strange Weather

Christopher Gray When the Dead Wake

Ron Ripley Amherst Burial Ground

Derek Landy Demon Road

Derek Landy Desolation

Derek Landy American Monsters

Joseph Fink Nightvale 117-118

Bentley Little The Handyman

David A. Simpson Zombie Road

Peter Meredith War of the Undead Day One

Peter Meredith War of the Undead Day Two

Peter Meredith War of the Undead Three

Peter Meredith War of the Undead Day Four

James Alan Gardner All Those Explosions Were Someone Elses Fault

Andy Weir Artemis

Bentley Little The Association

Kevin Hearne The Squirrel on the Train

John C. McCrae Worm 1-298

Chris Fox Deathless 1

Chris Fox Deathless 2

Chris Fox Deathless 3

rachel manija brown stranger

Peter Meredith The Apocalypse Sacrifice

J-F. Dubeau A God in the Shed

Drew Hayes The Utterly Uninteresting and Unadventurous Tales

Drew Hayes Undeath and Taxes

[freshstartinmiddleyears-blog]

Remembering the aunts

I am feeling the awkward tug of time as I realize I have one aunt left who is alive.

True, this is reality for those of us who inhabit the middle years. Elderly relatives drawing breath a final time as they depart on their forever journeys.

A leaving similar to Frodo, and his uncle Bilbo's, farewell to Middle Earth In Lord of the Rings, before setting sail to the Grey Havens and rest eternal.

His friends Sam, Merry and Pip are left to mourn and remember, and continue on with their lives.

I am experiencing those shadows with the passing of the last aunt from my dad's family. While feeling quiet joy at being newly reconnected, via FaceBook, with my mother's only sister.

Last night I spent the wee hours, mulling over my aunts' influence on my life. Each was mother to several children, two all-male clans, and the third and four to families of all daughters.

Being aunt must have been sliced in between those realities. For the most, part our interactions were limited to "hello's" and "may I's" when visiting their homes and playing with cousins.

But there were a few longer visits. What stands out even now were the books they kept at their homes, wandering through the woods, and berry-picking.

The only time I ever got lost was during a long visit to my maternal aunt when I was 9. My parents were away on a trip of reconciliation (that didn't last long) and my cousins and I lugged "home" buckets of blackberries to be made into pies. A fragile, brown-covered book drew me into the saintly world of a little girl from the past.

The large woods close to their house beckoned and I decided to go on a walk there one afternoon. No cousins or brothers allowed. I soon found myself in shadowy, unfamiliar territory, and getting lost. Was that tree with its gnarled trunk familiar? Where did that path lead?

My woods at home was spread out over a hill. Up meant home. Down meant wandering territory.

These trees of huge pines, oaks, and alder spread out over a single level and those clues didn't mean anything. It seemed like hours before I finally spied a familiar landmark and reached my aunt's home and safety.

The other aunt I was closest to lived in the country and I gladly plunged into the role of "country girl." on visits. My aunt must have chuckled at my early risings to mend torn linen dish towels with a needle and thread. Haul wood in for the wood stove. Feed the turkeys named Thanksgiving and Christmas and go through the woods to gather berries and view the wild mountain fed river that marked the far edge of their property.

I renewed my relationship with her in my early adult years, sad that a long-term illness confined her to her apartment. Her resilient spirit stayed upright, and her willingness to try the too crisp cookies baked by a little girl. Dunkers, she called those cookies.

There was never enough time for long visits in the final years -- a fact that continues to frustrate me.  Aunt Connie is pressed against my heart for always.

I so miss her. I miss each aunt in quiet ways. And I am happy to have this opportunity to relink with my last aunt before she is called away. . . .

(C) 2017 by Mary Louise Van Dyke. All Rights Reserved.