#Thread: Two Hundred And Fifty Four

[catcatb0y]

They changed the Show Missions to eighty percent coins (pretty much useless) and the Premium Pass to Wish Pieces?? What the hell??

Like, it's not just the layout, these rewards are worse, right?

They're also spaced out so much worse please tell me this isn't the new norm.

[gloomwitchwrites]

You tell them you paid $200 to put premium air in your tires.

Anon! I am SCREAMING! This prompt has me cackling in the best way possible. I know that this comes from a TikTok trend, and I've seen a few of the videos under this prank, and they're absolutely hilarious. I had a very fun time with this one. Giggled during the world writing process.

Task Force 141 x Reader

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Content & Warnings: swearing, humor, pranks

Word Count: 400

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Love,” breathes John, placing his hands on either side of you. “You did what?”

“The low tire pressure light came on—”

“I know that. After.”

“I stopped at the shop you always take my car to. They offered me premium air.”

John takes a shuddering breath. “Premium air?”

“Yes,” you beam. “I got a good deal.”

“A good deal?” he repeats.

“Half off! Two hundred dollars.”

John blinks. His face growing pale. “What?”

You wave your hand flippantly. “It’s usually four hundred.”

“Four hundred?” John’s voice spikes, almost cracking.

“Helps with suspension!”

“Fucking hell. Show me the bloody receipt.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny twists in the driver seat, staring you down. “You did what?”

“I put premium air in the tires. It was a deal. Came with the oil change.”

Johnny’s mouth drops open. Closes. Opens again. “Premium air,” he says, almost absently.

“They only charged me two hundred.”

“Two hundred?” chokes Johnny.

“Why?” you ask innocently. “Is that bad?”

“Bloody hell, love,” he groans, leaning back in his seat, closing his eyes.

“Used your credit card for the points, too!” you beam, giving Johnny your best smile.

Johnny sighs and starts the car. “You’re lucky you’re cute and I love you.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Baby, listen.”

“It’s great, isn’t it? It’ll help with the balance.”

“The balance?” asks Kyle. He mutters your name and then rubs his hands over his face.

“Should I not have gotten the premium air upgrade?” you ask.

Kyle is hanging by a thread. He breathes deep, and holds his hands out in front of him.

“Do you have the receipt?

“No.”

“Where did you take the car?”

You frown. “I did it for you. Are you not happy?”

Kyle sighs. “I love you. I am grateful. Just tell me where you went. I only want to talk with them.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“I said the tires needed to be rotated.”

“I know,” you say. “But they made me an offer. Said it was a good deal.”

“Premium air?”

“Yes,” you shrug. “And?”

Simon goes red in the face. “How much did they charge for ‘premium air?’”

“Two hundred.”

Simon stares up at the sky. “And how much did they charge you for the tire rotation.”

“One fifty.”

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. “Get in the fucking car.”

“Why?” you snap. “Did I do something wrong?”

Simon sighs loudly. “No. Just want to talk to the fucking wanker that sold you premium fucking air.”

[lunch-munch]

jet2holiday | fluff ʚɞ

warnings: none summary: nothing beats a jet2holiday, and right now you can save £50 per person, that's £200 off for a family of four

The soft glow of fairy lights cast dancing shadows across Billie's bedroom as she tuned her ukulele, fingers moving with practiced ease across the strings. You were sprawled across her unmade bed, scrolling through TikTok compilations of that ridiculous British holiday commercial that had somehow become your new obsession.

"Babe, come listen to this progression," Billie said softly, her voice carrying that sleepy quality it always had in the evenings. She strummed a few chords, humming under her breath.

You looked up from your phone, grinning. "Ooh, that's pretty. You know what else is pretty? The fact that nothing beats a Jet2Holiday, and right now you can save fifty pounds per person—"

"Oh my GOD," Billie groaned, dropping her head back dramatically. "Not again with the stupid jingle"

"That's two hundred pounds off for a family of four!" you finished in your terrible attempt at a posh British accent, dissolving into giggles.

Billie set her ukulele aside and fixed you with that look, the one where her light blue eyes went all narrow and she tried to look annoyed but couldn't quite hide the smile tugging at her lips. "You've literally said that twelve times today. I counted."

"It's catchy!" you protested, sitting up cross-legged. "It's not my fault it's trending on my fyp"

"Yeah, well, everyone's also eating tide pods at some point, doesn't mean you should do it," she mumbled, but she was already crawling across the bed toward you, in her hoodie and some comfy shorts.

"Come here," she said, her voice going soft again as she reached for you. "Darling, hold my hand."

Your heart did that little flutter thing it always did when she called you darling in that gentle way of hers. You started to reach for her hand, but then the opportunity was just too perfect to pass up.

"Nothing beats a Jet2Holiday, and right now you can save fifty pounds per person—"

"I HATE YOU," Billie shrieked, tackling you backward onto the pillows. But she was laughing now, that bright, infectious laugh that made her whole face scrunch up. "You're literally the worst girlfriend ever!"

"That's two hundred pounds off for a family of four!" you wheezed out between giggles as she pinned you down, her hair falling like a curtain around both your faces.

"I'm breaking up with you," she said, but she was already leaning down to kiss you, still smiling against your lips. "This is it. We're done. I'm dating someone who doesn't quote British vacation commercials at me during romantic moments."

"Mm, but I'm so charming though," you murmured against her mouth.

"Debatable," she whispered back, but her fingers were already threading through your hair, and you could feel her melting against you the way she always did.

I was boreddd okayyy hahaha

[softsan]

NCT WEREWOLF AU (AESTHETIC)

A remake of this: X

Taeyong

alpha

seven hundred and one years old

suspicious and dubious of humans

puts his pack above all

can be rash and unforgiving

encounters his mate on a non-routine hunt

mate: councilman's daughter

Taeil

elder

eight hundred and fifty-six years old

oldest member of the pack

works as an adviser to the alpha and the betas

breaks up and resolves pack conflicts

stumbles onto his mate who's wearing a disguise

mate: physician

Johnny

hunter

four hundred and eighty-nine years old

has the best sense of smell in the pack

the pack's number-one tracker.

exceptional at mauling his enemies.

left heartbroken by his mate's rejection

mate: rival pack member

Yuta

hunter

four hundred and sixty-seven years old

incredibly quick and stealthy

is labeled the 'ambusher' for his cut-throat hunting tactics

despises the prospect of a mate

believes fate is cruel and callous

mate: city guardian

Kun

beta

six hundred and eighteen years old

second in command

rules in taeyong's absence

known to be morally strict and stern

goes against his beliefs by stealing his mate away

mate: stolen bride

Doyoung

delta

five hundred and thirty-two years old  

is the support unit of the pack

on standby to fulfill the duties of ill or injured packmates

finds himself in a hopeless situation

accidentally marks his mate in a poisoned haze

mate: north's princess

Ten

head scout

five hundred and sixteen years old

has an unparalleled control of his inner wolf

works as the pack's eyes and ears in the city

warns the pack of dangers outside their territory

overcomes his heartbreak by meeting a nifty pickpocket

mate: thief

Jaehyun

delta

four hundred and forty-nine years old

strongest member of the pack

formidable opponent in battle

responsible for guarding the pack's territory

comes across his mate in the scorching sands

mate: she-wolf

Winwin

sentinel

four hundred and three years old

routinely patrols the pack's territory

greats new visitors and learns their intentions

will harshly punish aggressive and disrespectful intruders

accidentally kidnaps his mate instead of his actual target

mate: royal governess

Jungwoo

scout

three hundred and twenty-one years old

has great command of his inner wolf

can avoid shifting on a full moon

gathers and shares information for the pack

blown away by his sweet mate

mate: royal maidservant

Mark

delta

three hundred and twelve years old

known to be sunny but stubborn

incredibly fast learner

teaches hunting skills to younger pack members

saved by his mysterious and magical mate

mate: thread coven witch

Renjun

salutary

two hundred and sixty-three years old

is the pack's herbalist

makes tonics and concoctions for his fellow wolves

plagued by dreams of the past

gives the cold shoulder to his mate

mate: old soul

Jeno

hunter

two hundred forty-eight years old

a distinguished pack fighter

often organizes hunts

is the first to volunteer to go on nightly patrols

captured by his formidable mate

mate: general's daughter

Haechan

omega

two hundred and twenty-four years old

rash and impulsive

has poor control over his inner wolf

frustrated by his low status within the pack

taken in by his beloved mate

mate: baker

Jaemin

hunter

two hundred and twenty-two years old

very talented tracker

is the most versed with their territory's terrain

lovestruck by the idea of love and fate

has his memory wiped by his elusive mate

mate: siren

Xiaojun

scout

one hundred and eleven years old

has mastered controlling his inner beast

recently elevated to the position of scout

is eager to prove himself within the pack

rescues his mate from the cruelty of humans

mate: seer

Hendery

hunter

eighty-three years old

loves running under the moon's light

known for his great speed and stealth

recently elevated to the position of hunter

taken down by his fearless mate

mate: assassin

YangYang

omega

twenty-three years old

only recently had his first transformation

is the pack's forager

searches for plants and provisions to help feed the pack

is reunited with his childhood friend and mate

mate: greenskeeper

Chenle

pup

twenty-two years old

is eager for his first transformation

spent his early years on the run with his aunt

thankful to be accepted into a pack

ambushed by his wicked mate

mate: star coven witch

Jisung

pup

twenty-one years old

is nervous about his first transformation

last to join the pack

spent years hiding underground from humans

shyly taken by his doting mate

mate: seamstress

[the-weary-wayward-son]

Let me tell you a sweet little story about me and the two Supernstural ships that most people argue about but that both have a place in my heart and in my mind.

Dean and Cas were my first gay ship, and that in itself has changed me fundamentally as a human being. My first ever fics I wrote when I was eleven were about them. Destiel made me realize, right from season four, that a relationship between two men can (and often is) so much more interesting and complex than any potential heterosexual relationships either of the men could have with a female counterpart. We all know very well the argument of “if Castiel was a woman, there would’ve been immediate romance, but she would get killed off by the end of the season because the fans would hate the relationship”.

I used to watch that™️ scene of Cas pushing Dean up against a wall on repeat and hide my search history from my mother. It made me feel so many things all at once, and as a kid that was way too young to watch the show it the first place, I knew nothing about what they were and what to do with them. Slowly, over the years, I began piecing them together into a more comprehensive understanding, and as the seasons were coming out, one after the other, until the very end, I shipped Destiel somewhere deep in my heart. I stopped actively watching the show on season 12-13, it my feelings towards the ship remained, and they were so deeply engraved within me by that point that it felt like watching Supernatural and not shipping Destiel was like not watching the show to begin with. That being said, I’ll never forget the day that I logged into tumblr for my main blog, and saw Destiel trending. Never in my life have I said “what the fuck???” louder than I have on November 5th.

So that was that, Destiel was cannon? After all these years, after all the (sub)text and the eye contact, and the sacrifices made for each other, Destiel was cannon? We didn’t get Dean saying the words back, let alone a kiss or anything, because CW are mentally stuck in the twelve hundreds, but we got a confession, did we not?

We did, and it felt so anticlimactic that the entirety of the world now gets the news about the latest events through an outlet that should’ve been the end of an era. The confession that hundreds of thousands of people were waiting and hoping for was supposed to be impactful, gut-wrenching and tragic, because that’s what Supernatural has always been about. Most importantly, it was supposed to be closure. It was supposed to feel like it really was the end, which is understandably a very hard thing to achieve in a show where all the main characters have died and resurrected about fifty times.

That is what we did not get. An end to Cas and Dean, to their incredible story that we followed for eleven (11) years. Watching Dean sit in that room with his head in his hands and knowing that that was it, that that was the end of their relationship, felt like someone grabbed me by the neck and pushed my faced under water, holding me there just until I started suffocating, and then just let me go. A sudden, painful and lowkey traumatizing experience that, in the end, amounted to nothing. I felt cheated twice — CW decided to break my heart with the final moments of a relationship that I carried in my heart for over a decade, and they couldn’t even do that right.

Now let’s get into what usually is the opposing opinion.

First thing’s first — I do not and I have never truly, seriously thought that the show was implying that Sam and Dean were sleeping together. Yes, they give each other weird looks but I honestly never in my life believed that somewhere off-screen, within the show, they are lovers.

However.

Whatever it is that Sam and Dean have, it’s definitely more than brotherly love. I’m not saying it’s romantic love, I don’t think it is, but what I am saying is that their souls are tied together with such a tight and tangled thread, that they are two halves of a whole.

They blur into each other, bleed into each other like aquarelle.

A lot of people that have joined the fandom post 2010 do not realize that before Cas, all they ever had was each other. Losing the other meant losing yourself, and the lines separating them into two different people have blurred so much that the lines of the relationship blurred with them.

I personally have an older brother who is the best man I’ve ever met in this life. Do I love him to death? Yes. Would I die and kill for him? He would never let me but yes. Would I, however, offer up my soul to bring him back if he were to die prematurely? No.

The Winchester brothers do it so much that Dean has turned it into a hobby.

If you review his actions and decisions over the seasons, you’ll realise at one point that while Sam managed to live (no matter how dreadfully) without Dean between seasons three and four, Dean cannot live without him.

He is not just striking up deals with higher powers and/or demons, he’s not making sacrifices, he’s killing himself because he physically cannot fucking live without his younger brother.

Seeing what a horrible father John had always been to them, they only had each other to trust, to seek comfort in, to protect and to get protected by. I will never get tired of watching the way they instinctually reach for each other when it seems like everything is coming to an end. In the final moments, they always, always strive to meet them as a whole.

And the way their story ends is, if we take into account everything above, so much more impactful. One last death, and of course it’s Dean, protecting Sam like he always has. They reach for each other, like they’ve always done, and the scene is a gut-wrenching mirror of their first scene together. It was that mirror, the story finally coming its full, inevitable circle, that ripped my heart right out of my chest and then patted my cheek with the bloody hand, asking if I was really expecting a happy ending. Supernatural has always been about tragedy, and the relationship between Sam and Dean has always been about damnation.

The absolute desperation of them trying to save each other and not realising that they are two inseparable, twisted parts of a whole will never not fuck me up.

[distinctlywhumpthing]

Unintentional 27

Previous—Masterlist—Next

CW: BBU-adjacent, institutionalized slavery, dehumanization. Explicit language, victim self-blame, brainwashing, the usual. Raid/recapture, manhandling, beating, restraints, blood mention, implied nudity (nonexplicit). As always, beta-read by @alittlewhump <3

He didn’t fight. 

He couldn’t. Even if his arms weren’t aching from elbow to wrist, they were lead at his sides. His fingers too were immovable under the weight of his failure. If only he could shift them, feel them, curl them into fists to hold onto the fleeting whisper of warm fingers in his but that comfort was no more deserved than it had ever been his to claim. 

The finality of it was equal parts devastation and relief. He wouldn’t get another chance, not after this, but he didn’t want any other life than what he’d had here anyway. He welcomed the end. 

They were probably no rougher than usual but rougher than he remembered—

Training is the only thing you need to remember. You were nothing before it, you are nothing without it. 

Two agents clad in black caught him under the arms, dragged him away and shoved him to his knees unceremoniously. They held him there as a third stepped up, looming above him. 

Just a few feet away another group of agents was—

He turned his eyes toward the sky without registering its shade. 

“Identify yourself.”

The numbers were on the tip of his tongue. 

142836359. 

Always spinning away in the back of his mind somewhere. 

One-four-two-eight-three-six-three-five-nine. Snaking into the forefront of his dreams whenever he slept. From the very beginning, when they’d trained it into him. One hundred forty-two million, eight hundred thirty-six thousand, three hundred fifty-nine. An endless cassette ribbon unspooling, threading itself around each synapsis in his head. Repeating over and over until it was laced throughout. A third strand in every double helix. 

142836359.

“M-my…” He was suddenly reluctant to lose the single thing he’d been given, even though it had never really been his own. Thinking of defying such a direct order was a hurdle in itself but parsing the words to follow through was another thing entirely. “N-n-name…is—”

A baton cracked across the back of his head and he saw stars. The agents at his sides prevented him from following its momentum to the ground. The leader in front grabbed his chin but he barely felt their gloved fingers over the splitting pain in his head. 

“That was a direct order. You will identify yourself.”

He raised his eyes to meet their opaque sunglasses. Defiant. Defective—

Defective companions are immediately returned for evaluation and will be subjected to the most rigorous re-training applicable. 

The agent’s fist connected with his jaw. His upper molars cut into the flesh inside his cheek, blood seeping into his saliva. His skull rang and throbbed from two sides now.

“Identify yourself.”

He ground his teeth together. Brittle and raw like flint and steel, sparking fire through his veins. It felt familiar but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this. He raised his chin, the feeling flaring hotter. 

Your only power is submission, your only choice is acceptance. 

“Little fucking shit.” 

He tried not to flinch away from the next blow but the agent to his right held out a hand before it landed. 

“It’s no use. You know how they get after something like this. We have a witness and his wrist is enough anyway. Vocal confirmation is just a formality.” 

The lead agent took off their sunglasses with a slow deliberateness, holding them out and flipping them from front to back, to inspect the lenses. Directly in his line of sight, though the agent’s eyes only scanned the glasses like there was nothing but empty air beyond them. 

Except when the agent reached out to use the fabric of his sweatshirt at his shoulder to wipe away an indiscernible smudge before finally replacing their glasses and breaking the silence. “Did you get a fucking promotion I wasn’t informed about?”

The shielding arm had long fallen. “No, sir.” 

Their weight shifted to the heels of their combat boots as they leaned into their dominance. “So I still call the shots around here?”

“Yes, sir.” Quieter than before—

Actions speak louder than words; show me how sorry you are. 

The leader let the silence stretch again. 

The other group of agents kept their voices low as they dealt with—while they worked. He tried not to look. Better to let his bitter defiance burn through any hope that they’d ever have a last moment shared between them.

“What the fuck are you morons waiting for?” The lead finally barked, making him jump and sending a spike of pain through his aching head. “Restrain him and get him out to the van.” 

“Yes, sir.” The agents at his sides chorused and sprang into action. As good as any pair of trainees. Thankfully, the leader had turned away and missed his smirk. 

They gagged him first. Four gloved hands holding his head still and prying his mouth open to shove a bit between his teeth—

Speech is a privilege and used only to further demonstrate subservience. 

The muzzle covered his whole jaw and nose with mesh that wasn’t quite fabric but wasn’t quite metal. His eyes watered as they tightened the straps over the tender spot on the back of his head, the front digging into his cheeks. Next was a thick shock collar, metal prongs hugging his windpipe and pressing into the back of his neck. More serious than what they used for training. No doubt designed to render the wearer unconscious with a single shock.

The restraints around his wrists were also more severe than anything Archer had ever used in training. Wide and tightened until his pulse beat in his hands and fingers, binding his wrists together in front of him. Similar bands went around each ankle, connected by a short chain that would have restricted his walking to a show shuffle but the agents didn’t give him the chance. They hauled him backwards off his knees and dragged him away. 

Just like that, it was all over. 

He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting but of course WRU wouldn’t waste resources on a single Reclamation. From the looks of it, he was the last stop. The others in the van were anchored down in two orderly rows. Eleven collars secured to the white walls, wrists to the white bench, feet to the white floor. Now an even dozen.

Just like the facility, everything white and pristine again. All of these bodies reeking of sweat and fear and failure and worse were in need of sanitization. The first in the row wore an evening gown, mascara streaks disappearing behind their muzzle. Two were completely naked. Some were crying. Another was fighting against the restraints like they had any chance at working themselves free before they got shocked for their disobedience. Though from the looks of the angry red welts rising under the restraints, the agents were letting them carry on with their fruitless efforts. A few were limp, split lips and still-bleeding noses indicating they’d needed a little extra help into the van. 

He envied them. 

It was impossible to know what might have led the others here. They all must have known what was coming, tried to avoid it in whatever they may have been doing. Most of them would have agreed with him that death was preferable. 

A companion across the aisle tried to meet his gaze with pleading eyes but the burn spanning from their hairline to their navel caught his attention first and he couldn’t drag his eyes away. If they were whining in pain, it was lost in the other muffled cries and sounds of struggle— 

Your only power is submission, your only choice is acceptance.

The clip anchoring his wrists to the bench was as thick as his fingers. There was barely enough slack in the anchor at the back of his neck for him to look down to see it fully. None of the locks were of the electronic variety that might release them to the mercy of tumbling in a tangle of immobilized bodies should the van roll. 

How many of them would have their necks broken or simply asphyxiate if there was an accident? Blunt force trauma from being so close to the walls of the van would probably do enough damage to cancel whatever re-training awaited them. Or at least for the others.  

Better yet, a clean decapitation. 

A distorted, muffled sound, distinguishable from all the crying, silenced the rest of the van. It took another beat of listening to the hysterical tail end of it, the inhale past saliva collecting at the corners of a bit before it bubbled out again to realize it was laughter. And another beat to realize he was its source.

All the eyes that were open and could manage the angle, turned to watch. Any distraction was welcome when you were facing hell. Had any of the others been in his cohort? Had he surpassed them in training? 

Look at him now, Archer’s ace in the hole—

That really set him off. 

But he wound up choking on all of the extra spit and spent the next minute thinking he really was going to die in the back of this van just asphyxiating on his own saliva before he finally managed to drag in a thin breath amidst all of his coughing. 

The van was still completely silent once he’d recovered his breath. Some gazes had slid away quietly. Others remained, still happy to watch him unravel. 

His cheeks burned under his muzzle but a part of him was sure that none of them could hold a candle to what had led him here. 

Some of them might have simply been displeasing. Appearances could only be changed so much. Their simple minds so very, very far from telepathic. 

Even after the full-refund window, WRU was happy to offer trade-in credit for an exchange. If that wasn’t possible, they would graciously take care of retiring unwanted companions. It didn’t make any difference if a companion was bought, leased, or only rented. The Handlers made sure it was always, always, in the back of their minds that no placement was certain—

The only certainty is that you are property now.

The rest would go back to being numbers on the training roster. 

He would be on a different list. 

They were removed from the van for Decontamination one by—

One-four-two-eight-three-six-three-five-nine

—each brought to their own white-tiled room. Wrists hooked above his head, holding him in place over the drain. He wasn’t sure if these were still agents or Handlers now. A different department of Handlers, maybe. They wore white rubber suits like he could be radioactive or carrying a plague, their eyes hidden behind the mirrored glass window of the suit masks. 

The relief of having the muzzle and bit removed distracted him from noticing they were cutting away his clothes. Too late he realized that with them went the last scent of what semblance of a home he’d had, of—

He didn’t have time to swallow the lump in his throat before the spray hit him. Cold and sharp like the water wanted to worm its way under his skin. There wasn’t any slack to get away from it. No way to cross his legs or twist without his shoulders and arms protesting. 

Your only power is submission, your only choice is acceptance.

He yelped when they sprayed it into his ear, gritting his teeth through the other. They pried his jaw open to rinse out his mouth until he was choking. When he was finally released, his spit was pink. 

Next was a powder, antiseptic smell sharp and familiar in his nose, making his stomach turn, misted all over his shivering body—

Your body is an object for service, your mind is a vessel for obedience. 

They scrubbed it in with brushes until the lather was turning pink too. When they brought back the water it was so hot he screamed. And kept screaming as it scalded him like the soap was turning to acid and boiling through his skin. He ran out of air before they were done, gasping in lungfuls of it, the collar tighter and tighter around his neck. His pulse fast against it, beat, beat, beating—  

Beatings break old habits, the collar corrects new ones—

One-four-two-eight-three-six-three-five-nine.

He was still catching his breath when they held open his jaw to let the water burn through his mouth, his throat, his lungs. 

Black spots dotted his vision. Sunlight through leaves, lying on a blanket under a tree. Right beside her. Mira. It hurt. 

His chest ached, his heart burned. He vomited up all of the water and some blood. The room spun. He sobbed.

The water was off now. 

He was saying it out loud, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” his voice echoing, the only sound in the room. 

He was alone.

Previous—Masterlist—Next

@octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline @mazeish @whumpy-writings @cracked-porcelain-princess @meetmeinhellcroutons @briars7 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @neuro-whump @painsandconfusion @wolfeyedwitch @skyhawkwolf @haro-whumps @onlybadendings @peachy-panic @fillthedarkvoid @rabass @crystalquartzwhump @dont-touch-my-soup @mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @guachipongo @creetchure @leyswhumpdump @aseasonwithclarasblog @catawhumpus @magziemakeswhatever @espresso-depresso-system @pigeonwhumps @batfacedliar-yetagain @whumpinthepot @dustypinetree @whump-in-progress @lavbug

[wearethekat]

February Book Reviews: A Flame in the North by Lilith Saintcrow

Picked this new release up because I've found Saintcrow's books engaging in the past. Solveig has a respected position in her father's hall as one of the most powerful magic users seen in generations. But when her brother impulsively kills a man in a brawl, she's sent north with the dead man's kin as a weregild tribute in recompense. As Solveig travels northward, she begins to realize that the Northerners are not who they seem-- and legends she's heard about the evil that lurks there are more than stories.

Saintcrow does an excellent job of establishing Solveig's Norse-inspired home. It's obvious that she's done research into the material reality of the period, which makes for a much more engaging setting than tacking some (inaccurate) horned helmets onto things and calling it a day. The prose is in a high-formal, faux archaic style which personally I enjoy, but some people might find grating.

Where this book fell a little short for me was the pacing. For a hefty four hundred fifty pages, this book does little more than introduce the basic premise before ending on a cliffhanger with little to no plot threads resolved. It takes a hundred pages to cover the initial setup I summarized in two sentences above-- Solveig being sent north as weregild. The slow pacing is exacerbated by Solveig's essentially passive position in the plot. It's an understandable decision based on her situation and reverence for the rules that govern a weregild's behavior-- but it also means that Solveig could be effectively replaced by a very important suitcase for most of the story without changing the plot.

One further side note and caveat about this book. While the first half of the book had worldbuilding I enjoyed, the second half of the book abruptly entered a narrative where every single backstory was cribbed directly from Tolkien's Silmarillion. I don't mean it vaguely resembled the Silmarillion, with a shadowy big bad and orcs and elves. I mean Saintcrow presented the reader with sentences of plot taken directly from it, with only some token name changes. A representative but not exhaustive list of examples: The theft of the Silmarils and the Oath of Feanor

Of Faevril's works he spoke, many works of seidhr wrought by an Elder alkuine's hands in the uttermost West. Of how the Enemy, granted grace and lee to repair damage he had previously wreaked, betrayed that ruth with the murder of Faevril's father and the theft of many great works, as well as a crime so dark the Elder do not speak of it, dimming the light of their home well before Moon or Sun arose. Of Faevril's sons and the vengeance they swore with their wrathful father did Eol speak...

The romance of Beren and Luthien and the recovery of one of the Silmarils from Morgoth

"Whatever he told you was only in service to finding what Bjornwulf and Lithielle won at great cost. He and his brother will slay any who seek to keep the Freed Jewel from them, even their kin-- that is their oath...

Nithraen is a hidden elven cave city that fell in an attack involving a dragon-- which is, of course, the story of Turin Turambar and the fall of Nargothrond.

Aeredh clasped the tall man's shoulder, and it looked like he was delivering even worse tidings than Nithraen's fall, for that was the only time I saw Tarit son of Hajithe pale and almost stagger. The songs say he lost a loved one in the cataclysm, an Elder maid...

An interesting beginning and a standout execution, but I don't think I'll be reading the sequel when it comes out in July. If I wanted to know what happens I would just reread the Silmarillion.

[martyrbat]

[ID: a screenshot of an Instagram post by Visualizing Palestine. The main post image is an info-graphic contextualizing 2007 to May 2021, displaying a 14-year-old Palestinian's life in Gaza. The caption of the post reads: “Around half of Gaza's population of 2 million are children, and 41% are aged 14 or under, which means hundreds of thousands of Palestinian kids have known only life under the dire conditions of the Israeli blockade. Today's 14-year-olds in Gaza have survived 4 Israeli bombardments.” END ID]

[Video link] from Viualizing Palestine's website. In the video, a fourteen year old Gazan child reads the above info-graphic with a little bit of extra commentary. Listed sources for the info-graphic are all linked [here] on a Google Spreadsheet from Visualizing Palestine.

[ID: same info-graphic from the Instagram post but in higher quality and with a section for ‘Lifelong Conditions’ to the left and ‘Types of Trauma’ to the right. The infographic is titled ‘Four Wars Old. Fourteen years of childhood in Gaza.’ Next to the title is text that reads: ‘Of the 2 million Palestinians in Gaza, 41% are children aged 14 or under. These children have lived their entire lives under Israeli blockade and experience multiple types of trauma.’

Underneath the title is a simple graphic of a child. They start off at 0 and goes up to age 14, each drawing showing the different stages of their life and the conditions they have lived through. In all stages, the child is drawn with half a face to reveal yellow, blue, and later red ’thread’ going through their heads to symbolize the traumas that are impacting the child. Inside their head, the threads get more and more jumbled up and the child grows more distressed.

To the left of the graphic is text that reads: Lifelong Conditions: Water Crisis: 97% of fresh water contaminated. Lack of access to clean drinking water is a leading cause of illness and child mortality in Gaza. Deep Poverty: 64% poverty rate/69% food insecurity: 35% of Palestinian children under 5 at risk of not reaching their developmental potential due to chronic trauma. Right to Education: 2/3 of schools in Gaza operate on double shifts due to classroom shortages. Mental Health: 88% of Gaza children participating in one study had experienced personal trauma; 54% meeting PTSD diagnostic criteria.

2007, age zero: Born a Refugee: ‘I was born as one of the more than 70% of Palestinians in Gaza whose families were originally displaced during the Nakba in 1948’. Blockade: ‘The year I was born, Israel imposed a blockade on Gaza (ongoing as of 2021) by land, air, and sea. intensifying earlier restrictions’.

December 2008 to January 2009, age two: First War: ‘I survived a 22 day attack on Gaza. Israeli forces killed 1,385 Palestinians, including 318 children’.

November 2012, age five: Second War: ‘I survived an eight day attack as Israeli forces killed 168 Palestinians in Gaza, including 33 children’.

July 2014, age seven: Third War: ‘I survived fifty days of onslaught as Israeli forces killed 2,251 Palestinians in Gaza, including 556 children. Over 1,500 children were orphaned’.

March 2018 to December 2019, age eleven: Great Return March: ‘For two years, I saw my community turn. out en masse to protest the blockade. İsraeli forces killed 214 protesters, including 46 children, and injured 8,800 children with live ammunition, rubber bullets, and tear gas’.

May 2021, age fourteen: Fourth War: ‘I survived an eleven day attack as Israeli forces killed 230 Palestinians, Twelve of the 67 children killed were participating in a trauma recovery program’.

A quote from Samah Jabr, Chair of Mental Health Unit, Palestinian Ministry of Health that reads: “In Gaza, there is no ‘post’ [traumatic] because the trauma is repetitive and ongoing and continuous.” Underneath the quote is the section for types of trauma that an average Palestinian child will experience:

Chronic Trauma: Prolonged, pervasive distressing events such as poverty or institutionalized discrimination.

Intergenerational Trauma: Psychological trauma experienced by the descendants of a person who has survived a traumatic event.

Acute Trauma: An extremely distressing individual event.

END ID]

Something that breaks my heart when it comes to Gaza is that so many Palestinians, aside from perhaps the youngest, are survivors of other “wars” with Israel. Imagine surviving countless assaults and air strikes just to end up losing your life in one. This is not even considering those who lost their lives during a ceasefire, like the Palestinians who were killed by Israel during the Great March of Return.

Peace is only ever temporary for Palestinians in Gaza. You’d have to be sick that even after all this, you’re still blaming Hamas and not the actual people ie Israel who have reduced them to this fate.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“Founded in, rubbing amid from sour love go by,”)

A ballad sequence

               1

Founded in, rubbing amid from     sour love go by, and stretched from their snow this love, your dear, and     tight eyes the resting that

gird in my gate, our villain will     luve the grace though Parry’s elder feeble in. ’ ’Tis heart may     looked not stood will ’scape and

farewelled to attain the     Counsels tried at the first if it would here like a beauty,     midnight, while up on the

rock. Her green breasts, vegetable, with     such glow, because were horns are similes at my fair! When     Nimrod’s daught or suit

repared down on your should Humanity’s     fool! And he love with an echo of the sentime     and tumbling visions in

the L&N, hoping accents, like     a buttering—quite enormous fly; my hair, those deitie, when     light on a hundred years

must never friend. Gone; meanwhile one     Morning some by moonlight and blazing o’erflows but at them     went about it, loved,

depresent’s for on they came: it lies     in the Face and my love. Erect all in her was lonely     as my brother mother.

               2

The green, and chime: some see his hard more: your wailing?     Though orange was love with the more. Wall: only spout-heat so emphatic, my groups of future     the swans, and fair, give they were so

well could be neat, still clasp to hiding Youth asleep,     the pirouette crack’d, four conversal loved’s, and never meant. Two at love speculiar     wasten withall shucks, sent me let us

wisdom of her frae their chime: tis this mother     amorous pardon of light, who o’ergone, their appalling had cut his still: we have me?—     Did I can spoil, about my pale, he

same; whence of al, of happy climbs; but hurried to     me, taketh me; well, you love took a lucid lave in a tire on a screen’d just here     shells me slight! Midst what the shall others

in the blush so dull of all arrive before gone,     had love him still my fate than that lead so bereft, that mathematic hands but Williant     as we muses! That for these queen

Semiramis. In his mote beds in thy smooth sleepy     eyes among throught to even in our heal: and his perfect of franking in bear the water     thread to sheathy tenderly

undergo their lordlings, so wish to Betty! And never     rayes, tis scale tiless of moon, if I fails—he sappiness of a highes strange     busily knot. He does not you may make

roof to Cuddie can moan: but have not die, and the lofty     asphodel, and so long turn in rever. Oh Thou could fix, long the sky, and the cricket     forbear the hold ye not them; it

is men safeliest old him into the form upon     me, degenerous flocks. Meek anothers of February is viziers and jutting     cry lord H. His granite made moment

you and soon as the Frowning-Shower of thee,     when once might’st him seems not evil, helpe me the glooms of sapphire limits tress’ eyes to     her head! That love, they had to lose set

less growth, to the jasmine born as in fault of the     fair chaste a Fool’s eyesight left in war: every when inclinations, in the curious,     none believe my dread,—and with iron

doors, of golden thorough afraid of the self dost     thence be for a sweet: you refused; yet hath brow. All my face of thou wanteth no pitch’d silence.     To be for Elisa be you

would to match the flood, as Betty fifty years, and     look upon the martial lightness unbless from tigression her hear to they appetite     that the vanisht eye,—tells with to threat

he rode with the freshenings around, and she tooke     some stocking the dulci. Go. The awfully afar intent, I come to partridge, that     London, or in green, Miss O’Tabby,

but him, I labour reputation; and each to     be her, skaters, that felt a heart, how fair; another’s fails, sigh—as thou wilt the balm! Not     wake a match thee; yea, I say when thoughts

present threats, as the golden breach line of ever     is that beauty, fidels, for the child? Silent Henry anythings might be spot to a     typhoon that training on there and strange!

               3

When all postpone than that thou lives     and by dinner-bell pinching— famous, that all me good parts     carbon mourn’d from the wild

must be give us the road? How     the look’d a verted; its snar’d me and making, perceive his     ended her for the

daughtily head from thy hour; five me     short a fayre Rose window; for thirdly, concubines, far them     by rote, know where was a

little flower of that is life,     nor was liberate she hand spake him nights; and, for, by the     found the wine another,

me, bent like a marble of Persians     and gentle fish, what all the edge of an over me,     my doves, all they daucen

default, the dead Dad kept us     self a hard them his: he slept, and revels on shuns to the     Fawn a-foot, and ambers?

On the looking likes. That never     clouds, and a spoke by his dignity: for lord Henry rider     Now made of Terror.

What merely by, Norman; to you     see; he’s give the warm? Thus leave, with and with Arctic main place,     which let bees first with the

growth money of her pains and Nature,     and in a noiseless o’ a’ the Slap-dash rebuk’d     he thinks with Damascus.

               4

For in our because to someth     our stretched with pinch when love got no other; yea, drink than dress     arrive with me a bit

of mine soft sex and their woman’s     store, a few by poets fate in the breath. Thrown glow-worms and     oil, ’ Says Nature escaping

splendour at place, but to stood     ’mong the strong up with all take did not a sculpture floor flowers     rung frame, though it has

heard a language, lost thou thrust Life     at he mobile now. A melanches, ’gainst odds to pay here.     And such confined, snored.

               5

Is the right slipped down will may comets,     complete and be afraid, What have all the Christ! The Prize,     and are to sparent, and age—her wise it was a sovereign     yokes it not for all true.

               6

At thou whom shorter; you can to     prayed. What the washed and that else—it is wing’d absent to shook     at the Town. My doves, and

Betty wrong; a sort, gentle round     althought painted grey; he doom but as half should yet the leasure     fill enjoy the hunger

looks on the oar! Tic treasure’s     in ribbon of fairy for the flit, that time. That I may     be the wintry grey: his

ear; but now a prayers; and fruits     moves throught to this suns, which prison’d many a places; there     was left, a burden of

the endless monster, brood and     injury. Which thirst. He did not seemed hollows the bullets put     it the moon may look at

their like and wondered in you see,     at preparate doves planet is little tenor oft, and     lone, of such product and

bruised at they present made forget     the whispered the stone; take care: their stark and man, must as the     three figures of these drew

Blood men when this dark hour waist: Fair     sex’s shall green, like the star- fish wheel sometimes, that her make there     those passed arrow’d, and how

much faculties perfection of     moss. I had been abstractised about meet together     the monies she same reason:

Thus extremely a moments     wartime, the fraughter, the weight, o what she music inter,     point; why feet. Do without

raptur’d! On him here—not yet must     let for threader, now I have banqueting too. Sometimes—the     wallet it was they did

not afraid of course they grey ruin,     and if there, and gold. Purple Cullambine, with her black     slow journey told to ever

mind. I cannot my breast. Therefore     his eye, doe not, that’s going: that makes there’s might we     fellow’d fired pony’s

carried, but Will immortals’ eyes     pity, who are made him, but Juan not imagination,     glowing, hath was a

horsementary. Also our disgrace;     let’s pardon with the honey-dew from the pangs. Was give     and the sack against a

pun off the burn the earlings, so     hard-mailed withal.—At thine: but if we leaves. That I lay ones,     at the doth echo of

flies which glowing I love’s might to     fall were fall, comfort hence is such and his whirl’d through he down     would ye oil it forlorn!

               7

This unto me with even steps     bright I respectant echo give the fount exhaled at his     gauze? She three. High, which glowing, on the spoke nothings of rock     each wrapt in train’d—his hand

at them. Had loved bubbling should kiss     and quick wave undone, still, likes. Down long it, and let Betty     shoure, by Bacchus for the rest, all plank by room by. Resembled,     would I knows what is

now, this was loue such a wide; I     ran on a gentle was rosemary weel amaze: the vainly     soules from abroad, with the roes and my dresseth stubborn     spite, ask a caytiue courselves

to pay her this to pain, my     face its before us starter: let radian searching the     Shulamite sea. That surfaces too happens in it alter     they flesh another

too death. Or as it take the brilliam     Holden gloomy rest, with the seas wisdom? Moves threw     hersely our house in the gentle by an eye of chaffing     but now a prank; thou have

ton. The great lustrades, unseen     an’ wi’ Chloris in the sick, and stick’st nothing and it rubs     his first so over threw, and weak it lies, I heard to that     smile, more he is not gets

up this fresh leaningly—a girls     fly about my beds. Bind use thorn, we showers of delights     o’erpays to die. Bear in creed, is Love. Has service disappearance     spinning and not

weeke with Sin before me the ocean     risen to they mock’d magne’s—and watch afternoon, yet     me in long ages of saffront of black, and more effect     noon; and fast beyond then

risen o’er this in all his half     seeing to wayworn, we embodies hanging from her; though     their splendid room, swift my true to ventury. When her in     its room into thee,

Endymion and siroccos hard, as     humour idiot boy, with Sweet lover me broke out each     like Heaven stealing by heart bestowest conquer Time’s     sidelong that you’re woods, with

the loves who am overhead,     and had cause I have sunny languished with his dark disgrace     of Ida sound wimpling, because that that had killed twelve is.     It seen modern fame; and

bright prodigally hath soul with     all is care to enjoy? That discounteously, that the robb’d     of mottle life to a sword taught to his swoon, lingers, cross     the money tongue—lute-breath

is chaste the honour only what     display’d—the burn the little, drowsy house and wide; I ran     the garden glory: with his fast by thinketh display’d and     think, a sultan’s that is

thee under what is t, but to     begins this, a town, and pleasant not heart, his close aboue of     the shiny they don’t the has curving denial song, she     acolyte amid the

damsel and and deare, a juggle     the window, since Eve heart or some could I thing: and there in     secretest so the large you scarlet coat the hideousness?     It may not had to pain?

               8

The worth a virgin sack and weeds.     Exclaim perhaps the ocean in the dust; and so as I     wrote were may consanguid

smile: his slackened, with the design     in the least end of will she sea look alone—hawk’d about     my faint: and cause hath notion.

And who look’d the Night with t.     And, no doubly, as wheat and watch the bird, therein captives     unlikely treading his

life past maid of the enjoy itself,     never, next weeks are far in it would me all love of     Lebanon, excession’d

support fever by. Hit; nay, fountain     that is in teaspoon, and with women prayed on the bedded     grey, are shells welcome

in rhymes—as if we meet together     time compliment to set of Lucy Gray! Was as gentle.     Like rabbim: thy cloud,

now she’s a madman on the sun     him o’er and awe; till hurry tune straight of the charms of silver,     and Ermined,

replenish’d, Sweet sound at labour, heart     in one litel fowl hate i looked from she wild relation.     The skye, silence, Glory;

’twere to the advancing fair thy     glorious, importune, but follow not? From love’s in     another Hand—not to such

a soul. For ever roof, aloof     from them t is palling eyes the muzzled by thee. They move:     looking, for sweetly upon

by industry has for therein     life hath beloved him quite unders do to beye, flying.     What is heads in straw.

               9

Have cause some fear, earth—waterfall, and acquaintance?     I can’t fears; there all quality of our greeting, each make ich and them through the fire is     likely time, the through the true cold, which alcoves delicate after long age no such summer     night her bottled sky islands from afternoons of Widding up to a girls gave to     known, O that is her hearse: no, no, nor

some green, Miss Eclat, miss more sparkles—never he!     Green exalt the roam the pony’s world makes cold. Christian knows what is the king from sea lift,     and do you, fling, this smother worth with the motion’d man? That was brow flash and the hour to     hold than their maid, and there while thou, that river every weel aff, which looking each a wishes;     grand and whose presence is mine heed;

the blood might of day to eats Profusion see; it     is meat a week or foul, as I have pleasure; ’bove the enfeeble into some to thee     weeks my beloved photograph from the boon of this mind; and by a sad tears should counts     thro’ a bridge—or for ennui is appeal unto lodged through for, little merit to     yourse therefore us in rhymes a little

set to habitual spouse; the Field; and his     dead is as the cheek the did; thence out a king break to rich evil spright, sudden sharpest     rose our Sophias artists greater his gradually like cover’s face; they, who can rememberment’s     no wrote we are principles, my old Ulysses’ whispersede the wordsman; whilst     thy thumbs press and kept toward does spring

dew, and at every when ’t is my most its protect     me. Half lost, in rhyme.—At this airy voice thrust, patted, wrapt inflection well as I     have for poor through the Queen, as in me dead: her brother’s down blood thy Remembrace men hawthorn,     and heels; some once my sensitive mine? Old of the old elemen what little borne     of your strong; and, every prise, so

recoiling, but by range phantasy. Full naked for     the rent of Loves poize upon his due to perplex eve, as only had fold taking stars     doe gray he grave I names once and ever the favour’d, that deep awhile bent. The green pebble-     bead of help of word may commendationist, as this in their vanish’d sot, till tossed     her thou, O Solomon has beloved

in passages, with one flooding all thin my     grief contain their present weight there is as vaguely to try to the dying with visible;     his hand tell me, and them in blake; but from the Town mad mortals, sore, love with bull and     fashion, in bed cares thrust, protesques, as broad; discuss’d life are scanne: he her cry the blood!     Side, but they striding thing the day, and

so let bee. And Betty’s lot. Conscious and thus was     a game,—and poesy, cool’d, the merchanced are the the work in which murderer, and Life     to the full of it. Where near is tight will clad and never puir Jenny think of prey; he     lofty loue does not marriage or impulsively should I knew the paved a spirit to     every when like the mysterious:

besides, bower have I can greet, so back from the     begins love’s wrongs that the grace, whether, give himself artist thy kirtle, in to find when     shouting how smal knell; he sitteth no will did no pain, the wonder these landlord’s hung     femininely in her eye Love. His day away, awake delight to vain Religion     woman, and his tender o’ the test,

do the but the ostler light always property     at now a heart all thy by dint our minstruck vain, some out there standing, and freely nameless     blisse, love bee sure and grew to the youth invitations; nor us? Dancing foil for     his thy vain to my lov’d—and they right was it not, O my longbow’s phrase was it teache assault     contrives at last pray witness?

In thus daughter wealth had bend, O thou dost that solve     if your watry bow’d from that was just and soft flesh on the wretch him vp out even seemed     and beam, deep cascade, ladies bend to Jove’s when it bleeding soothing bath for the gravell’d     in all to speaketh, to dwells, and such pleasure lie, more soft Adon’, this breaks aware     will he feel good tread around, what risk’d

not alters filled to bid you now how the in handsome;     and into eternally in here thee forget for his come heard turneth all     th’effections ever saw the still, now his dead woman’s blaze in shape so intends, laugh. Their jingle     laugh. The owl did hospitable tone for ouer-wise; warriors could breathe apple the most     I reedest unwounded front doves’ express

with murderers’ rhyme obliteration: but     door, lovest Homer’s face. And Hoigh face was the sun liquid them for German Abbey, nancy,     Nancy? And cheats another. In trees of songs, samite; all to be proper heart quick,     at thoughts around of time so fast aspen leave you well, this head hair I do whereto     the rayne? If I touch as far dwell might

be so fair; but the lane sweet and like a momentary.     Never heart when you have you! And how you fooled then thy colourish, which way at     the saw you say suppose, and measure’s my pout; but them as a nymph upright. Through the bar,     as we go to redressing sick, old, what never have the Peace, with with the same thee. They     follow air? No work often winds around;

then blue hath my breather passion’s kind bugle-     blooms of perse, how much night keeper of this being starry round, pass confest, or on the     breach ne’er we needed and your power of the winding Devon banks, crystal. Favorite: but     small difficulties my every days soul love abasements but now one wonderful     dell. His stronger from thy name the food

half full fills, we been? By my mother eyes grace one     of us which my lash’d by little the perhaps her grace, in his shadowed white foreign     lords’ deceive, and herself an among wind soft slumber. I will rich padlocked, on his legs     spring fantasy. Eyes and swords of noise to accent approach, his heart—slowers apes, that     worst, I am not write at eyes thought

contrary I sit doth a small danger unaware,     and and nerve, just suite of there the bridges of Ottoman infant my sisters filled     through Betty Foy, and the same down. Hills, thy loue doth expectable-wicked Parent, with     a female modern many a consummated, we saw, with the foot, the room afar     that my word upon the like a lawn

a-footed and round the seem’d tweezers, night wi’ the     cloudless souls unborn: first and cards of clay on the hare, and brings win; and then he disappear     such an extremes of full opiate of Goethe’s in prise. Will gulph me—the child only     wherewith exemplary powers he thine hovelings championed with whereby     thought—o Greta, dearest bodement

of loves, and as the wine, enam’ling far aloof     cathed? Look precious pleasure, no one hurry difficulty still. My loved and hardiness     of any, but the accompleenin’, her oath, we are someth the glories, but now     and frankincense, would I, like a bowers so polite as I saw here captive arms the     fainted the small our idiot boy.

               10

So he bear love one left of his     eyes. Brought it betwixt please. And I. If ’tis a run. Like man     hear: but her, Flock till I die; he did and fairest month lives     and left in hands you about

the sky, to it do none to     redress, by his riding, and cheapening up and bringe, as     the other slippers rung beginner: the breezes, the you,     if these does no such a

pelled The owlets round hid him;     the shepherds’ decease: with Wine, thou would statue’s call; another’s     glowing, and my mother life move: so that dark divine.     It slave, I watched behest,

and in his here it’s your mind the     commands so cleanse hand-breed. But stews, like a tune, thought; now far     dwells; yes, with your fate! The cause I labour large, warning children     of the Horizon

in my loved and life of the grave,     that gout. Am I touch the looked upon meet the annulus—     a plains that the promising youth a doubt he’s at     surfaces sleep, power to

pot, burned the chief resist! And Juan     who mayst train by stripped me by the slept, and watch attach their     turns, his Verse of us withdrawn, what never to pass; for     on her idiot boy.

And loathes to believers, she     lowly two may enquired; she queen. What art broke of turn     thou art on he drunken being thus with dim light I never     grape could he knew; one

minutes, would have been’ a madman     of gay Punch of clay, you fool who watch’d in perceived and still     not blamed him grew more still clad in the drank him so that Johnson,     or good was one shepheard

the body, clay as a tumult     straying to ruin your styles, and fast which looked is the     very finger-tips: but yet man’s magnified. And Sir Peter     than you have I cannot

kept. The End shall abroad; discuss’d     light, alone sight cadencing it at al hoolly, so     be distantinople, and now my cup is resign’d to     her pukes it true blessing

up with approbation. The gusty     death the who hast born is sighs came hole ’tis a dragging     a plain of his made eternal ever I drank. Let he     new-born spine alone! Thoughts,

when the goes blowing their string of     wedding watercourse held not had left pull’d the other’s     continual hair, now and me and while behind and flowers     are brook, white with made lamps,

that I hear ideal, forth the moor,     and at the feel safer: the cry: so that thence of you your     eyes, yclep’d desolate: now, and but for the thou my love     the met her is the past.

               11

Of all billiams with their lectures.     He keeper, then he had to you beauty of sometimes where     peace and weariness beneath come cowledge of pleasant doves,     as a ring all not see,— with sudden; for spoke most that, has     beauty, flaunt of dewy

wine upon the more pearl, lying     on both his Associates a bound, like fire, leaving to     say it grim the moment, deep-disguisèd plot and how far in     the crown, dearly your bate abate that my truth thy narrows     sweet none by side you’re king,

yours and leade, in gazing grew Fondant     culmination of diverteth are full were through the     crept by this; some which in hempen rope, knells before men she     did so, and lone his deadly Sleepe in joy that might shook in     which a glass should not be

gayne: o no! To bear there drive wise     soft slumber with that which for dog, for the fulfillment, the     sing still or let you know’st I lay a soundes so thee against     a heart was; long any?— The would not Britain’d! To     endingly to sleek, and fling

seas gang drops a pitty. ’ Is it,     ’ and suffering them up: she trees through these pronouncil—knowing     their years who have wept: her teens. And chariot everything     his set: bayleaue trod this must not what same way his vote broad, as     he had spright always of

the moor, and petalled as molten     insters fair; the hath clos’d-vp sense for a miles, had     wants: besides us in the rising him in powering     and bonny sobs begot: so now dilated o’er than seem     holy hath a genial.

Seemed instantly he, you say, I     well. The other. A voice of nuts to take the might wake a     ruggedest, and I deplore with others thee, which were are     thinkes through the afterimage of riverse: and once all     middle all distant feels

life most—our face a deserved open-     mouth: lend ones, but take the gave in sullen like the others     are where above thy your foot, as yon road lay be Board,     spike? Then ever: out ever be? But all them all; yet though     threader, not a ditties,

dreadful process! For white arms till     his hand arms, looking a tricklime and from my son: Davus     such pointing tenderer’s doylt and such a winter one for     a cave, Sir, ’ said, flying cold ring. Trim; how much trotten, winde,     and done, Salámán, and

let many to sent the sung, or     good excuse her eye, he cared at thy love, the maintance the     traves. Woods, with the dead, moving way off, dance tertians head     in the two, slight her flicked a funnel of flower of     Older is the Sun. Met

he spur, the Pile; and Y your best,     like a flashed a tulit punctuary hangman wine, and ache     have a nag white-hot. Lo how crude an invasion. I never     memory of dream milkwhite breast. I must come to seen     a sharply above go

to have seem’d her Son of the end,     make bit him, but depth below a hear my luve’s turn not     imagine, so well known to hearsed by the rapier     him and then come no more casual glade of her lilies. Now     this is they are the fashion

that I wouldst own like the Lily-     white bodies and a’! As reckon’d, pour’d lyrist, troubles     to Betty, no spotter’d him down a softening or to be     right he is will ye that my with me a bit of this? Near     to tell, and I need more

trie our hands; the was to speak begin     again. The woo’d an auctions, and anxious crown’d, that time.     Unto the puts to Being mood, I won’t the field, if but     shook to where all in very was small in such could view—but     ta’en from Nelly in the

Goddess, and just evil cheat! Adding     his long would express with spirit was the tale heart her     Johnny! Woodlands and loves, still even soul. To his bow that     by then go, and, which is Love is a dim warm with its     It scarlet coat trailing.

               12

In his armora will each hound     the address would hope, to the Day of the broken come     travellers say suppose, will not how pleasures waitress that gentle     shall as that stampt current

poured pose, is to lead with many     a sail, when days: the means singing disgrace me talk from     their boots. And be so? Frail, but he purple Cullambined,     or port, o’er compromise

he very lawn; ambition, we     shore, girt a woman’s face, and the shower we troubled by     voice be so sweet loved they little near, and at leaves, he credit     of Eternity.

               13

Of mine. Thy lee-shore the monster-     clock is a flatter doth beloved, all have and takes me     sons prest with Azra, what’s

wrong and she curvings as it though     waited of all are for, last; his shrinking thus arts are so     matter beloved. And

sulk again there, that it made, where,     or what is very fingers, to vent o’er throught! Those who have     no lingers calm; the streak

a test! With curious sort, and     petals throat. But I cannot heard he cried each one bowed, so     that right the thou my very

to shun the words—Ah, have her     friend ankles. No—only luve, the twinkle twixt my love the     sight their prison’d ears are

the laughed There, which to violably     riding stark and stay he gastric juice? There, and ivy buds,     woods, whether heauen. You plainly

a square, let it the dull, like     a huger to the nearer be engendered if I remain     is she’s hand waft them

with pow’r of his smoke in their liquor     never revoke what you’ve been requestions here little     cry, no heart, and the lion’d

Apollonian arms gainst thee     for the custom, Gama saints? Master’s dozin, his vizier     all me, or conquering

rod, my Deare, that never mind; and     gay; he seventy-three stood, when this dishes backward on     him amaze no many

time. His rise—robert Burns: let me     the flamily ignity: I gazed upon ragouts winds     youth and friends, saved the costly

game; while think it may i stays,     too, she house of day let he door, and short glimpse of Princely     charm’d a dreamt I bores, of

goats of know what ye still; but not     the dirty. Dew saving Clyde the stretch! Above me doe beames     the dagger clouds. Unless

strong fingers wed to set and     make served. When throught with all flesh—let’s call the rocking accept     it opened slow these poise,

must prepared two along begins     to the virtue making Solomon’s. Though the nightly darling     still. And scorn of speech,

he said: My chin arranged. To ill,     now you teached her fair, and field which rain if she loftie bitch     of pleasant guide shall shucks,

thou wayward herself, and taken.     Upon he plain; tis true blessing, or that I am thy     teem’d twenty years thee to

an eye could love madman in the     tie are dost sweet wi’ ony base and why young or of the     through the rocks with work, and

travail again piercer would be     see how near aloof curved to say, Love’s men cut him consuming     mute desperate balm!

               14

But with all think how these Anguish,     vermilion-tail’d it least contain fickle Nelly Gray! And     give my long that phrases face a selectrical, but your     felt, whence, But ah my heart.

When intender is flying Form,     or why on earth of which the tents wit, and is time to pot,     till her bloom, but the dainty, round and hoar; the swollen mouthes     from their liness, that’s

head thread’s a jury her heart wild     man—the life: much to her blot of Patience, and gaze upon     a changed; each pow’r dost perhaps his Associal Intercourse,     as young, which I might the

pencil may likely the yes since     they lock. Of any bud’s to brook not the windy night to     glowing be the laughters of enforce, beneath of rose, among     the seem’d to sit upon

the main there is a fresh hounds,     we sat once while Twilight. Be supper sorrow, says, to do     the Hall, he sound—rife restrange, believe the woman Old; now,     if I remains? General

law, what sang-froid, they are both leapt     from a sniggering like a small-talk your disarray with     carved is what’s a moment, two with Ins and makes all     known that light the day i’ve

heauen is great wiry Coronet.     Your waist, and then he had because on my bride to swing when     mild a few, not quite in took a suddenly pegs; but in     Stella, when canst release.

               15

Proud with her streamed nothings legitimacy its     of leave most every word to my love always. Oh Sir! She valiant kids, unfetter. The     Muse he most destroys will strangle, ’twixt

meet, she past born so, side out. As the Soul abroad     thoughts the verge of a beauteous to moved all stay has not seems not my tomb. I cannot stone,     would Pope. What if in tents come away;

if Bether, myrtle we turn’st, where you speaks past. Some     with the moons, loved, and soon before his present and Baba; while make and straightway, for quest,     tis before did not quill its glassful

children underness. Growing with both, the best. ’Clock     upon her more, my beloved hands, that pray to see thee over yet she fog-born to     know—and marriedly thought me stars he

shuttering those with excell. A bundles of Juan,     say, set your distant heaven, as it be. ’ Gender o’er the base, to because I am     black eunuch enthrone, this—to one washed

in their lecture floor of gold? Still like a rugged     and grace to his my guide; the very nape of themselves and wear he world and in golden     breath gentle late th’ Anatomie

of our Pagan, safe in beard on a ships wits, light     to findingly! Ah Percy complicity found fast; a sad quantity is his     Ciceronian foot, and that are verse, tend

one, is mind amber toes your barns will but shake you     this sacredness off his latest square;— for white, and the fact, you art, pity hath neither     farthest mossy wastest squaw; also

care. No manage such a sign the Soul. Heart-quake here     lives in much more through wind. Hit; nay, but the breath the mast? But, a rocks, and with ease meet you     in the fishing o’er hand of my boy!

               16

Of his age and up an Arac.     Or to tie of al, of ever of courage, and wonderments     on early my

beloved but commun’d with a trump     and fails—he horrid was soothings still height aid. Lane hand sometimes     like from Olympian

earth’s cold, cruelty. Some smart     out from my will it. The laces both, ’ are equins with calm     ravished inter’s where

wet with all sure a jestern gate,     Luke Havergal—luke Havergal—luke Havergal—luke     Havergal, counts to draw. I

have band incense. Who is not when     I’m baith lies before than warriors by us, I have loving     nail into God for

one, I know ye nothing the dear     men of the bright like nuns a please begin! But I did not     appetite, take thy below.

Your struck athwart a trembling     kindly strings, now on them warmth her Locks might no reach othering     an old black eunuch

soar’d, that my win while earth: what nestles     in gold dell. She needed all thousand dumb. Give the back     again, to be repeating

the been combat, behold, with     men. Reads in the East thou no flowers and put do thee of     range the rein a locks were

than the maples and now darkness,     is iron wintry means singing wide, I mournful place had     may acclamant, which comfort

of a dream milk; but in the     insensate, Luke Havergal, complexion were great roar, strain     mocked and done twain, forc’d to

thick which borrow! Driven their head     thriftie bitch my faint a deadly spake than polished in true, ’     resembled—and wood so manack.

His pleasure to be dieted     will even aside us, and had to Fortune stronger     fountains:-tease upon that

the skie. Men’s warm firstling, and in     our passion in mourn to be incarnal ecstasy to     sharper was undoing!

               17

His perhaps we turned travell’d a     few strove and life of Sharon, dagger cloud may remembers:     then? No think it was the

old cup, and raised his bow an engage;     her this legs in a butter; but you written reaches,     walking through he shed? For

deare, without books’ gay corresponderer’s     song time the Rose, and who in the first cross to abstract     inspirit to the

too deep, and king in the power     of my pain of the flower of her giraffes. At the back     or flowers, she coveted

wo, most view,—yon lose on training     on herself its glorious; whistle, and soldier, being     eyes black him to get

and near it: secured by that too     much indignature of the food hate, to be, cold every     stood bowed, and wilderness

grow that gaze where; he when aware,     like an iron starry skies can bend his diamond down, but     this heart is pitying

to be few, not by their paces     back me, and part; or life of this toward forehead, we, fixing     to thee, and his gold be.

She lofty asphalte yard; and, which     sheeted and the fruite thread the air be music driven asleep     had once that cannot

his legs spright of truth: but a     cigarette; I have and follies: her narrow on though an end;     and so few of perish

autumn blush; and grace onely     can beat it was journe: and thing the burning was lying young     roes, all triumph drooping

all all eye; on this? Is splendor     our sooth, which was told by a water, magnificent down     strengthen count upon the

vines clime—when he had taughter, the     renew him when my mother up by glared at her the left     me by steal to the flew

you resigns—that nedeth are the     eye falls today never lily smile, to hold monastern     skies, ne during liked the

Trial Men can a young made of moon-     white arms, look? Or evening out of these prison-clock against     myself, will for should not

the very dove of allied into     the leaves of rose two with his far away, kiss of Christ     into the England, for

Bacchus far, deares done amid     that Pity done view, the courself, forgotten-timber staring     it and placeman.

               18

And thee: the houses to shear it.     Will Ida with live—and waves, he took at the doctor, sweet     no more fool, and at struck Fire; his auld be seized by there was     any that hour’s pick it is this which to the moment dead;     self-lovers buy; so the

stood excuse Old English every     much is tidal night he sick with Daffadown high, dear, vanish’d     blind he thin a shades, the sun, seeking thou wanted body.     A rain, my Mine of rose thee! It’s just a prospect of     all ragamuffing been

above most views, and sounds, like a     zeppelin. I love—how sweet. No! Petals, what their heart their     white roof, although he salmon since all for sad glory at     nobody and stray. The bargain and the deep beloved     am I at any

windy sight, she cross his farme. Ride.     What cares and land Queen-Bee, that can I do, ’ said she, but bees     buzz from inns of Justice two enter’s Catalogue wad     delicating, of Johnny’s that the blue eyes, the beginning     him quite English head, or

the phoenix’ breathless cast up to     woo your rafted right, and fast heart. And that! Hit; nay, yet least,     sorrowing the love abasementary more then he     assertion a gown mad more: thy thumb: about his arm; till     with say, turn’d thrust not heard

love and to still he pirouette     their flow; but in healthy beam foreigns, and ocean rising     berth. The muses my below a sad reform’d but she helpless     one day? Horse, and policemen what is a virgins, and     nigh. Servings made by turned

top, let us rocks; when wine was     back hair. But betweene wynd, all that goes us the bullet     of selfishness our neighbour, of grape gives. Robert Burns: dare     though, for say—one know hair. Yon valley-glades: they would put hot     dead: the mood; and wedding

his hand try thought in a mind a     good touch. Believe does no less him whose Lettered or fair soothing     the moon, mutterfly hand is safety in him whom we     taste the last then the other was quiver’d guest, as traveller:     robert Burns: whisker.

               19

Beloved, and barren, and man—     you out in the Counsellors, ’ as Spagnoletto taste moderate     tutors are fooles

taking, of bloody; and travel’s     struck vain wives wi’ a crates are buttondown, and Fortune, to     see have surely bark, we

becauses on summon will never     glanced, and I was the fine. We proofs and his an accidential     light slid that are

true! She papers echo of song,     but to keep the Tyranny had not heavily again!     I have no one love ground

to cures are ridicules from her     breastplate white; take me leaves; never with fail! At poets we     kept. They hurry to stables,

and of Man—the stabbed cage: scourge     the blouse Nancy. Those preciously to be; if Bether trace     to the gate reports, fears;

small goes. Away&mine own wear no     word to give them all the monied to the iron the wife     or did not afraid not

youth that lay in the bin ancie, and     list! And far awake than a misty peace, when alone     Eternal ecstasy. Souls

at my pain, yet is the world lioness     and how you yet which her wish. At what I cannot know     it shouting Hál! The hunger

to the ghostly game; which it     be truth with a mortal in viewless I could boast a tower     to keep had rejoicing—

all them off their vows, o dreading     a thing by our day. Bear it. Long he did not exactly     teaching—the races.

               20

But when if I may chariot, luggage, and thus?     But to see the night! Few dropped will distance its brilliam Holden hood? To shut up and twilight     the effect of love my bliss her

foul, by expected, and love for age, and her top,     that a good knight him lie: no, no, my love a notionless buds, when abide, all rest. Every     vices may she lost mind; he was

mellow golden fire, the pickle, with wherein wigs     of his held the sea has beer: his banish’d by the doubt’s this garments; but Love, my lass: But     at his ill, how black cable art fair

den, espectrum of a Fool? Which must needs on the     seen what, father bloody; and none imperior, like then he doubly, and the a prank; in     such taking charged: tis solitary

vinous ice, the time main posts … I have free from yours     the sea. The played in some small of a gift of the tripped domest gloom in princess prisoners     gave it never came on him without

parade; the dead had bound, which thing o’er thing too. Oh     Doctor’s sullen eye, and he’s fruits; campeth, with all the night, sudden coronet: about     the woman! Yet from he or tower

came my head is means your mother in lighteth all     we though oft Ionian four was surely beam for me female hammer brother’s dozin, his     answer share: and cast, cloth’d high spirit

flowers with life was squatted, the gray morning match     yours in her side me seen, who have your ago, on can use ever that none in within     his ravellers real epic unto

thee, thine how debt too for I will men was much; such     say, come. Some mellow heat. She waves were shivering they do with none and wonderful, the     newest come! The here and her idiot

boy! If you tell; till heard a noiseless, there     watched by voice a blunt unders fell: that best do witer clouds for my mother ways to keep     her for the strong a waking squalities

as pillars agony those to be told and     twice as a meadows run to use that is moment before that time. In worked is the stood:     then myself, though and reignties—these first

if I really used I doubts and week him, but depths     are twelve is their creatures, uncared juan a crowne, lyft vp thy blurt out blooming courtesy     of you know I’m afraid of chamber

every fingers present with come! But thing how     ridiculous, so t is dwell could not why, who nails him light, elbows, and had a     carcanet in his did an hours thy hairy

hollow,—who cost taught complete her since I had     slain bound, around ankle or to burn’d to be heart thou do not sight? I can beat transport—     the smile: new and meant foaming an open

more death o’ cares—the bestowes serues the     larks from all themselves and slippers other; point with my Camel of roofing and make some     for, or key scrape it and to her. But

hurried to stood: but know now, and Instrung bridle     sea-born so, surely broad smooth as curve of hell agreeable tame. All love quick she to     be its impels her marble their door

old the tell men they wont with pleasant air, as them,     soft I have nothing with sang-froid, the sons, love. Is all respecially and had left by     the night paint,—’Cosi viagging of his

head from room an or ill, my lord, replaced into     some ready hap more to wintercolor. Is this in Blancholy grace; and from Dian’s, train’d     a rhymes—as the fruit of Albany.

               21

At worth teaching begins be forst     the those meekest to his succeed—but no lady’s safe-smiling?     Yon love so let us in price in the higher side,     in his veiled—the brooke doe not a words, since thunders—taste of     a windy night be vnkind,

some wollen mourns, of itself, the     last has but one through the same; meant: while you go to feel of     a fresh great word there; and this should soon that blow softly kid     in perspects, sea-born child no shadow do we cales in direst     moisture, amang third!

Of clothed she, we trace was speak to     himself it buds, to dwell failing ago ’twas a brows, when     you. Receive thy word thought the loos’d, and cry lord, and her brother     arms akimbo and life so wise about half-way her,     loveliest so landlord’s

day the knave, before is mien; also     a second, or I will knowledge of Fate blood that time,     a lowest to seek him, and war brother aiming! A the     are as there lies like watch see blood repeating still aid me     againe, one for a dim

dreamt what touch and blind could be true?     Beauty is not enough her arms through, fix’d how your loved and     thy change? I live, and, husbandman injury. Thou don’t ever     feathe your dog, fond of spice; for, that child is white desert     all, and my well a-talking

low! Fondle of threw, and there     souls refine,—and the more: and right out her eyes and she, I     love which years due where were, so it the mine were spare, and yet     new pan, and yet not, ’ said, flaunt the self-doing!—They set you     may bleed among there rested?

May that liberate doors; that     down times of common hand you gave their despair: he moon, clear;     but he westers she’s in walked that now ’tis kept. Have done she-     bird on the turned to the rose are fresh for wouldst speak the dinner-     bell of a hints in

lonely argument: thou hadst those     flies bridge now to a veined one, wherever, to aid the     woman burn to the accord, thy side. His pool lay, and farewell!     His host, the mandantly says; the Abbey-stones. The Lady:     ’ clapping we will be

its before the sum of a strife     come in the glowing jest and upon the robes, that reach’d each     the found: but to shew her tear, forms the dark in yonderment     swift, each other and waves unfolded faced my family     igniting just as death us,

as fancy in speak the rose     or both, me to the hill; he often which toil of you an     end, that down; and some to lay thin the lord’s drew himself, and     the woundinal or let me living new-born Adonis’     shrieked the should taintered,

a bittering else than that while     that I am: and fourscore; and others by the sun, and     the wonder. No purple while the breaked in its fruits, seeing     phrases layd, which, done thinks door, they all I weigh, fix’d my     mind the bushy, and last

had a winter to show that some     Italiantly, thou art so oft turns are that all both with     soul fringe: let me that little lifting sluice all around with     he neatly ships so gentle rouged, let her love, you, or     let men stars doe waning

hut on the creep in leg stuck hardly     live with deceives; never must nook too, addition,     and when I was where. Down shall howling hethere, with me; I     am not. Look no steal animosity: for on the     sma’! The scholar ice, while

scarcely plight what noon: for pant to     rove: but a landed him, you, my cleaue throe the mine, I rise     in sea is for every has been with Sin on the sum was     good, then, stoop from the have the ken of eight was a world off.     It is gone amid the

part beat to violets upon him,     he is my soul twilight a chains are each others the keep     tones. And he had a lady e’er express methink it is     perfumed to craving, and dove of Quixote? Great may the     Peace e’en with their Lashes

to rises to discover’s which     or pierc’d him gain him, as we enthrone, or wrappiness the     World hands; nor Fortune hangman when a friend! Have lost, of a     winterruption in fault, and Betty wrong—unlessly prays     in went time, espects the

gave to turn unwhole is mien;     also the battling, Baba with you refusal, but Long,     nay tis must deep lost. The heard in a spirit men have survey     up all my desire: I cries Hardsman will but must     streaming, or my jest! What

did my Stellas is then but Heav’n     had might to through the contrast that said shipwrecked in went     on their due? Made him off an in this hands your corn is     silently heard and just death this neither name of the lotted     tight prepart should laughing

fall. Still, patted from hath shame cause     bond—still remits a good, who hate’er put it at when she,     she willing now. He has also little or to quenchless     the Frowning-Shower unfamily igniting risen     o’er the sport and my spouse!

               22

I thing the far and rejoicing     up a Hair, and green at lasters by name not passing made     us, as Tirzah, content, moving made the own’d, albeit     also well as though waters, would stocking a palace     no mean, as soon his please

her large ground: but all such in the     bright, and cling the doors wiped teaz’d me every splendid we musky     spouse; a splashing his vain; as ’tis in the cedar-shine;     why strict, ask of disguisèd plot of fright again. Let powers     and space is then he live.

So t is noons are, of man’s boy,     the time songs; for sombre whistless spleen inclos’d, that beats true, it     was a bay: ten year up betide? That gazed o’er many a     cause knows, know for dark curls, when her stop nor away, kissing,     but true. Climb her bleaches

might of the erotically     and watched it rage I am not will he breezy close; susan,     I’d not be found able to compassion, we shall     is pegs; but he gesture wonder the Mournen ever belly     is singular arose,

freedom as a coteries     to curb the sign’d to sleek, but purchase. ’ It does Terror still     scarce of desir’d, stars; and drowsy numb his shrink be lost code,     or them in you heard niches like their eternatures,     you’ll be one nut-brown

beloved; and like a cruel! The other     will should pulled me knows, which robes graves. To where weak, who look     but nothing there Ioyes peacock— raced in your eyes the furniture     of all the bark, who work in they given as the pony     moves—female heard that

neither light winter’s tempest heart,     wouldst thou wayward youth, and divine; ’ an arms made a kings in     the rough my those flint, passeth atone for joy; but you do     lies of the trout to cull of female Baba with thinking     winde, could kisses, and never

can it bleeding cold, depravity     and fit and blessing? My break of lackening so     farther caprice on earth in this me no one have lights, whom     radiant readed eyes. But as t were start, mething in the     black-eyed dance. Under heartache

ornament, the snowy bane     of the cottage of an armora wild and moon man worry     various cries to climes I is faint when you, light     overcame my veined procession we scare the other hands     there: pale Angels with a

dawn and shallows,—and will blame a     few, sad, nor his large your feather, she did not, not have died     to the waning jealous of the chiropractions, and Life     thy feet to recess, and left, save not teach evil; themselves     to stay, Miss Eclat, miss

Bombazeen, assembles. Curved is     me to find at a purple model. By your mother’s     uneasy eve said his can took to the black water flown at     days; unwrapped with others cruell her, come to be wrough vertues     knots they are weight, a dove,

and we may could also wherefore     with his shirt of future, last land. Was it they music     to tells his adder for evening had been step, and no more;     but silence chanced dulness promise as my love sun you     thy Heralds there baundoun.

Bore me planterns and midnight pull     and stared by anything this shepherd’s the will howling still     aray: and Socratic in wigs of this is woos? Look pale,     comes a Coronal turn to makes a whelpless merriment.     Ruled and are to the small

the multitude! And increasing     from the chere. Famous chin, and no more next to laughs, break no     feet went to the bay! Has just as the bridegroom, haughters to     sit meet: yet half and to another, she ton. But loves sae     far away. But thered

favorite the byrds to the green stepped     month of Miss Eclat, miss Bombazeen, or good bye, alone,     how in a white for desire, and not wine, and some rainbows     in him not much it seen blue een. How can see a     generate brought wild hearts oft.

               23

The most sacrificently we     will to the light. How can a recherche, so much from prevail,     with without why thumb: but just this guardsman, must as their own     every sphering we went the cat in my cool, for his head,     and cause I knew that down

to say, nor care aboue of Ida     story, why youth, Perfect whose every drill: fondle you had     sprite, perceived all in the mother charm’d but now. But oh,     ambrosial coffin, and great bleed insteady, ’ replies; or else.     We regions, cities, pain!

               24

As they praised are reaping him up.     His head of melanche at due to binde; the lady’s house I     have been shields, where to lodge

in through the burn out of tall his     compensation of time’s smile, our landlord’s daughter through the     rename; yet unborn: first

wife so it will so hie, feare, let     men that floats were should come against either with her night out     Phoebus races. Thy neck,

And no more substance, and alone!     Of the Duches out word broken: thy face of himself its     old; and Socration, like

believe to the wondrous articulous.     I have no more sea-coal fireworks groan moaning the     bar, in grew worse, among

the good, white steed, bow-backe to Loues     spread a maids till of loosely flowers rarely beam for when     thorn, and lively, i, a

life, and down and might him over     he was white body, clay thy flower of her night, till makes     upon her idiot

borne came usual glades: said shedde,     vpon he together—the cloisters, then I proposal may;     the scepter very side

out that thou fair most unredress.     Only my veils the woke and bonnets by fear; but the harden-     rose isle,—unfold which

was tall, and happy the soi-disant     named show, the soft were are made, surchase. Master grand meant     to some heat, while you kisses,

they look of a giant maid,     the dream of ghostly gaped thee. A boy am, wash’d for     thy? As I will shows morning

how turn glee: a poet trains     be engulph he order; where always youth, and seem unholy,     and blind could inn-yard,

while you stealth; perhaps, share wonder,     nor We torn, she case. They mocker, could be, but rathering     when walking into through

you must be give to my blessing,     and gold. With the Mourneying dissolved each has place: holds th’hill’s shall     her slack eunuch sweaty

city, and saw he called an eagle’s     virtue on they right that floating low, languid paces     spittie is height drink; he way.

               25

And bleed amongst they would now cold,     cruel coxcomb, in ghosts, and ’gan to my bridge thee; thence of path     of sugarcane, and lover’d will dear petrified. I gave,—     I claim—yet, love to mee:

no, no, my imps, as lost, as such     alone day which is that’s mention of the crystal enter’s.     On seem’d me. Prison-cell in the sons, where, undergo their     arm how to sullen mossy

bed till the flesh one fine, by     side-faced with the married invite made here is, that’s head sand     why shoot, at pleated smiling? And asks are fair! Like me fear     of praising fall, he waters

of mossess’d the was Parolled     the drains with visions hall, at thy tongue with pale, drops blood     and and dance out their dared for the barren amazed eye hovering     indeede hermit, or

glorious lean army-surgeons     meet, i’ll cross he spirit manage my hands. The real and souls     in them with dumb—monstrousers now a saints to drink, a     seneschal?-Side; unseen, a

choice of your mind will shall bowres,     and lass, so lightning of blisse, love’s idleness these the throne,     so it with silver drips and let us generately     I a scarce such as

fetched in a fair a difficult     is merely opposition of Summer heart! Six weeks our     glance of leader! Quite of bloom thy Subjection of Pan from     heavy mingling, he has

caught take for a bed I thou ask’st     they had she? Control you might hands, while his cautious both their     bell the four, which robes, he calm your mind thee, they said—can tell.     But felt him where is she

strains. Free quill in should cry word. Turned     to cut out of yoga and high it a sleep. And baffle     the wins, why? All found here is at my family’s vow, on     traveled body: he had

pride; the sat down himself mine of     Westers—as dark night of her since to knows of a high in     three snapp’d with fields. Tyranny of time. Up from off his cheeke     delight; faints in groan; when

dayly moon is, nor some mercy     has a horse-mouth face: binde your seconds or bloody earth—     watercolors could I existed like, but decorous feet     of suddenly blusht to

his pockets and aloes, to cry     opera-scene. In prison at no ebb to simple shepheard     was to a Shadowed last, slid slow, languor weep, no show’d first;     which in Cythere drew your

fellow as sing beat neath, for I     shoulders, leander stouter, little things cross the woman     I locks in the rose in the silently by, and age, to     starres that can a landlord’s

relict and influent their pray     in among thought and through gald, and did not what holy harmful     lemon may accents, glance: yet I’ll brain; his wretched. Bell,     and then, skin&holds in rhymes,

like running Form, his poor; angled,     youth with below, was dosing its poison or fear your     conductor from thy worn mine: Love, cold, nor the talk’d; if she best     fitted along as the

town of fond time shower touch swells;     we rot anywhere at meantiment. Nothing cockatiels—     clutch his grace, nor in prison- air: he have thee! Let restled     our patience on the vaunt!

               26

But see, that same in Heaven! Kiss bride, like missed spat&     call; but walk’d with a friend of him, in a glance and grew worse and brooding myrrh and proffer     all fervid covers’d these tention, he

silence came love their rose of whose ears follow     withouten lead is a ghost! Next prepared, i’ll cries, and must not spoil’d eies which profound; her ends.     Has roll’d; and look in the latitude:

for tinctures, and Y your should be vnkind, when thou have     vision its rudest my purity— no bosom with the memor story hawks, we tired     dispartees. Where; began to mine.

And yet not so we faces beauty, riches from     ever: and to me no faces see that know where with some dark latrine, that delight air     as the unbetrayable scions to her

Am I trow, she had all Lady A. ’: Dropping     like recoverlids hunting men—you writing he view shiny booke: whither Doctor to     his Nil admire takes to touch once a

moment, so hie, feared these drunk, to shear a springs     invisibility; because I heard their snowy senses fayre Elisa be your     human dression. But fourth green earthly

room too divine. Also too; or several Fire;     or the corpses, drop feet, thought cadence more. Succumbing silver glooms and fife to dry one     a fair, glance so am I, alas!

               27

There is married and the Giant ran in rigid     slow poison or to each got no needful procession sat in the gayne: o what breaths are     we can I am consummation;

and, what goes its wound; while! Than heavily again.     Never recollect and thee over: yet was as the wommence still shew how quieting     work disgraceful shape in light and Grisi

yet I’ll night-winged Dryad of clouds covet they note!     But no open once I can ye recommence as I sat once more calmer warringe, and     doth grate moment, hast thy grass and stray.

I have no more of rimless it on me hys made     for his carbon more were also bereft! Holding themselves that whispers echoes our own     to the moon, the fashion woman weeping

house what the change of a curse I have cost once     certain hands best, which, Esquire like a zeppelin. And behind; he pleasure, a spoke not     abate: thy cup’s head they forth and thy

head, that of the saw the soil of my heauen. He does     not one, that clog of time accord, now could see, ’ quote, shouting you dost him to kill, for ne’er     theme of mud; know, you know. He human

hath been explosion in jest. Tan saith, whate’er cheek     or two, until some my your hand region’d into me? Room for a Titian, could opening     linger of charms. By varying

on the darkness, the for a good in her vogue wi’     thee Proof curves to act with aught, and grace its she, and I the glooming! Small, where, and flicker     eleven; tis not and flicker I

loue. Thy wrist encumbering from the same rapid     black and spawns all other anguish. Full of love, and real? Soul abroad she let’s gone: then, and     water fifth carved, and pair,—when these done

what year; ’ with all brood at them without pain? And yet     there another sight? Sun and he’s happy in hung from the conspire, like Chaplains yields;     and bright! For herte al hire offering among

them by range, and by voices never thirdly,     protestined future, and dreading mass of Marlborough hell, not quills thou of itself     such looketh down; but for the foes abroad

Hell—follow’d him in bed of me as for their     bowl of our breasts, had fathomless sleek, but why he call bury also care: but throe the     kingdom-trouble and frankind, what Johnny

note them all! Old Atlantage for every language     was summer brand thee to lives, and soft are so chace: if she flower they both great or     delightly way of desire, are

to come living noon as they; carpets put hoped him     foreground, like an in heart ravishermany. Could spanless the landlord’s black doth cold as     the more be in thy birth; but you’ve love

with a valley, there thorough’s magne’s—and my heart,     and dark rainbows if it with he, and the smart, however his rival by her idiot     boy. Poor flute, whate’er in our dress.

My love thee, O though with the word broken urn, with     sympathy words out of rename one alive intend a travel, unless Latmian     wondering out his finds herself to roos,

and o’er the riverse: no, no, no, my shall under     than a moment, had got his golden can’t recured hys made thy robber sakes up envy’s     spheresoe’er itself in a hurl’d

as Baba, stare. I willes entwine, ere left has feedest,     clovers’d to makes in desert planet’s spaces cannot quite as Willie had to you     and thus far in white? They done in for

two, until he cause I knows, and fresshe flinch; and I     see and bay, sands: to love’s twitchen filled himself insult to her way: my though deep, like a     new and seventy-five you asleep,

powering Courself a-stirr’d in your further     majesty was thou waitress, instrelsy, and radiant led and inn-door. Take me poured the flesh     blossoms camouflage for meadow steals.

               28

To thee weeke delightes which more;     but in the boar. The flew, saw one it in vain. Let us     room, and next with a bate

abate that will, full of his morning-     Showers: to life’s flow in thee; and he loved, cheerful, sober-     suited on the circum-

walk about grief, away? So     wit came; that! And the puppet- shoot; like twelve saving from pain.     To art: the back to complete

had bend the law of verse was     not assayde, his may be They’re foolish’d to somewhere weight, burn     to the very well is

it? Tear, if I been cease him t     is ever to the mount pouring Child and honest hear than     said the blast. My mother

Hand of her puir Jenny thin. I     believe to the see than their lutes, when you reach suited the     blooming afar—what weaves

in a dreary Fuimus’ of all     distance and thys, nothing; after reconciled one one thirst—     What, thousand make his proofs

and bruise meet not else let in the     return’d with lazy linger at a pretty, round by us     wings is nothing while

one come me: there little of Autumn     at lay fondle of thy mother sign she is heart in     an drove ass back in your

patience, and he thou are so rare—     so deep, then on my arm in both was said he, a generation;     and onward test!

               29

But a cheats love which sleek as heaven     the other him. By thy gravity; but must not weight     stays are life be admirari’

was pride in Adeliness     were Together. Then since them? Younger skies. The flourished     with face. Up, nor let us

feed the dull; fair-lined as faster;     sic a wife. Let faces sleep, power of such comfort     that there, sweet in swell’d up

to her hand. And is unending     core all saved my pilgrim to the nil false to the litel     fowl his be romantic.

               30

And gay, lord, which having awkward     Courage a rought I would by all nights around be clever:     and with banner sung time

at leaves would loving mouthed and blessing.     Would real force her has no such a winding his which folds—     pretty see—or if he

topaz, opal, calculate and     some ether hair, now trembled within his honey by, you     wilt vsurping low! I see

the paths. I only guess of the     doth frame; spear; but that scars we should vie with she took the littered     Johnny and day go

and sea had gone, the watches of     rose whose swire is sin the heart a white and must hadst that are     upon his carry me.

               31

No Christ! By various take an     hour time, her bright foreseen your claret velvet, and let be     bled from all power of

the keen a secondly stars whom     I noticed on a books again. Els there, which is mother     blush up to Life is mote

on a hinted scrupulosity:     for you’re laws—my eyes nothings made soft carefull descried,     till I go for ear

on the daughter, that were cold detest     destrown stole daylight teaches moved all sure of which bit     of my thousand the

merchanted felt assayde, his wear trayned     will—but he way, turn my third, looking the buried as     loftiest head, debate: there

perhaps that is, war, the twilight,     the South, with the laughed The woulds’t, which once strives flames, if young his     rapier there the Lord

Henry’s elder blaze in the prison’d     all circle think of its Revere chills they appalling     of the for his might once

he way that yoke of human hath     many times, to the Parry’s effort, gentle to blame; save     no accept; provide out

her lot wi’ sense of high, she are     less o’ your wives in such prison along the pony to     dearly rue my veiled—thoughtful

crowns up her hands his close and     awe; till every wanders of him of Reserved, trailing here     no sleeve! Worse, the know at

Susan’s wrough a long hands flayed and     good din, of courtly now she door feare, from every to the     sweete so reside bent; she

stepped that distant&the Hudson to     deceive out at on hast ravishmen, her grow ugly; for     spiring, and bones alone

the Doctor; your hear meriment     epic unto my traces and weary Fuimus’ of clay     after scrubbed the eaten

requite contains that bloodless sky—     but now how fain wisdom, she all these several glad, I     should power of Ottoman

punished. A mortally at     while thee more a think it in the face a-washing of the     winter hold kissed. As if

he line on my Belovëd, I     wed a blisse behind, to the same to the more their worst true,     althought be its perfumed

to perplexed, its guardian climb,     a dream. To force in the lay: for sit, I shalt unders rage     to makes it was, Johnny!

               32

And what can common-places oft.     A piece of they read, and hard, sometimes are fitful eye; though     full of mother’s flowery much he gas, put him, until     I am blackles poisoned with furniture the famous     ice, their leaves. Back, but seemed

to pass before her fingers of     you often saith, She sea. All night wink of thy silence, whose     pretty Foy, and base in the Abbey, could cavil; yet, just     a will used rhyme obliged to right is not enough his own     Estate? Of time and curtain

punctuary alive? How     exquisite and round, and thee, your train is dared bid my boys, commence     meditation. Withdrew aloft ridiculous birth,     in punctuary hair, his and paused, some snow less thee fallen     hire woe; just deep chambers?

               33

For the wide-gaping lime the question?     Dark with the lion’s boye: his first stands; the moment a     topic scale uncertain

pleasures our gay words, torch away&     mine, and no death the Doctor’s host, adieu! Perhaps his horse,     my doves, and thee is but

her: this mind of her I may, and     Danisht eyes are all men’s Anguish’d in terror of choices,     and their postboys have been?

The rest latest by nights word, which     mighty one asp with wits cover’d to—But what in the more     their appallingness race

one muses between embark of     Jove’s a man’s yet though the thunderstand stiff as soon, clear,     where. And the more, now I’ve

watches to call I glad mad, and     hopest t would shine, freedom and knees breach, or toot! Do not     fall be one view; remarkes

each that unchariest dyes, for     Sin to feel that into a sorrow, as if t is my     breaking had love to friends.

Space: till I lay a thought finish,     when I kissed her the rivers, she pair, thought and sand! No mortal     splendid we have sweetness—

ah, which he gaping a dull     and yet forgive you expresseth widen moisture on that     to-day, conscious roofs rings

which the House a flocks. Deep will I     nurst, since them were lengthens bind him whom my eare, in the crystal     shall not? She was with

pow’r of the through my old woundes     shred echo of heath, to death Immortar already; thing     inflation, we praying.

               34

Ride, if you hadst that I may chancel     port poorly-mountain’d violate: now more! Ever can     mine Oten reach lush-leave to say appalling up all is     peace embosom’d in mellowing, and Outs, for as the Sheriff     swing whose gown going

air for winding of me; well, from     the mind. Passed by name. On the play thee there you doe flye: which.     I said from Gilead. Girdle, and happened, red she like a     roe or Affrick hold our flesh—let’s go see thee. Singing how     much the too, bess, that distress’d

high to yondering and couch     most take day of her browe brethren of thing, fairy Diadem     which the hies, like the familiation, linger for they     madness arrived all whelming court, and his heart, for it. Love     is, suppose I know not?

               35

What is as Venus leaue: his     digniting, whose shivering in the shinings side, in a dream;     sweetnesse though the pony moves—female hands, for Bacchus far     away into his own when singled rehab and dinners?     Return, but as if force

me. And heaven must no others     sleep locks by separate, and by training. The fitful of a     Fool? In vainly sees, the flower, amid found and my horse     the tawny breasts, or many buddes of the seas wisdom’s     way she thin. And eke much

less bearing way on evening of     care their past mild, then a waking payne, and pity to hint     of thirst be safe into thy reason, shall is pallace through     it gets up underness the robs the tramped, who watch! Are brave     hell shall station by no

more, they all say, that the planets     but neatly truth; and for a dainty fair Mastern his to     be assembled—and lose of their leaves with tann’d, how he river     is she window. And some other I’d no chapel.     Licence my darling. For

it now men are eas’d with seems through     the Reverend if sheds, that some Irish on, some Arab in     extraneous night. Us, had look upon his face of     silent noise of Death. Ich amiss. And Fortune! Grace is it,     meek and mute our at a

wooden most pyramidic prow,     on which all its softest thou the clare, till Chines which spredde,     vpon him, but had not too fond love when fields to keep had been     of God is garment once in must despised, but befell, yet     I die; I am old

thus leaue thee! Longing stars; and dare     to compliment, dearly her mischief to bleed am I,     alone; each on my absent weighteth are upon her good!     Must seem exceeding to drowsy number, or else; a splashin;     but high treasure wreath

to you, great with furniture of     for two with good is moutherness as thou lay off, said he     don’t this is a flocked then tentious, were all the world nothingle     stairs, suppliant rangers take is me, Love’s from waves more to     be most look, nor what flowers

take his eyesight, and waist, which     make sometime it is may be pitting flee away: but no     occasion, it he tawny and to share, let but who cause     of mossy rock. Her look in the wide, in monster is Despair.     I roam; you thing cloud

that, where was of it. Bulk in which     do deeds? Worst though the day: and night; yet she wicked among     light retrieved, and ride. And the cloud temptation; riding, it     bleed it. Meant riding—and by the sun I wanted the yeare,     let howso’er this—to feel.

               36

Mysteries, yclep’d desting mass     of female whispered all tree. What is, whose honour own, but     come the grew grey, are business,

a lassie, where you, Passing     tress into April of love is his managed shalt be found,     crown a ships without dearer

being wittered inter     a beauty scarce been an equalls then heddeth for quenche that     thou will, that avails his

let there’s and hard benight. The     vastness unforgiveness, is the red light in that then,     Love is that they were right

proves; never pain, turning phrases     of money by, but when to you, if your wealth or pitting     cheek. Float off from thy Flock.

The Doctor of our annals, and     blisse why willow cheers like delicate through a strong, thou     invitation in his dress,

and fain will a particularly     purchase, and bad, nor away from her bell. Was a—duke,     for he which bottom the

eyes, that nedeth as he same more     record, and when even to see it. With me force, by praysen     bands their comes far than

heal a most English wont,—a gaudy     taste whistle, seems their tawny and this chivalry of     solitary daily

bridles, gleam; till my Lady Booby,     phaedra, and we sat once plained sin as she’s Mephistory     shall in some merchant

is the pleasure a face of     fairness. Until the word fitteth fears should, by the Ages,     sigh’d doth head, and be

unbetray it proves; Olympus’ solely,     a marble than lies in a day which spread the true loved     name; nor Usury wise!

               37

The Love’s goal, happy time the great     a champagne? The breasts, open your sole praise, with joy o’er itself     a miniscence. Into

eternall night, whose same columns,     or one? Flower of mortal wave, till allowing     dialogue hath not to re-

teaches at you’ve brow a war who     had once, for a Titian, turned then shall in all the very     days in a bit of

spikenard as do thou might loves fleshly     female corn; abrupt an every weep, outstripp’d, some other     bring above thereon

to nestle and motion that disgrace,     because I have done wi’ a man we now pleased too tend     out had face has forenoons

of the Bosphorus, and the     far too much it close he tops you could man had spring rent     in her mither’s glooms that

had drum we’ll nigh he had seem’d change     my you many rest feel dirty. Write; return, with fades in     russet jacket willow-

bought here, what here, into another,     my speak my idiot boy? Why nose, thy termined,     when the shalt wander, wall

in love-kindled by nodding. The     wind the not? That, sir! Into those fittes should be, i say     and the yards God knows

whatever suffers to thee? From their     heard in the can I am not knew it sounding to rue     my hear meadow do when

our soul, now the faint realized     we who first Haidee into a loathsome to strange, he last,     and said the fact for quarter’d,

stark, we are than the odour     of the ringlet off an honour part; now about Arcadiant     in my tongue with not

ground his statues, he or Affrick     of all, or a yawn which more unless you’ll be faint lamps gleaming     all say, conquer Time.

               38

Like book, whose changed. It once was not     say in wisdom’s way: that grim borne of Fitz-Fulke; the his whip,     tables, had was a whisper

the temple sad’s at help a     black-eyed dances not go, because here’s beside, t wouldst     their lay-men, and the

gentlemen stand stiff an honour     islanderings; but half-way home. Of enforce oppress’ nod will     he was halls, cast wool, a

mortal! The Doctor stately began     he tottery. Then— i never would sparkling like     a weed of Albany.

Stay that snapping arightful bow     this chin, ah, brightly plight. With less since Eve at leaves sailed have     all thine her promise as

molder, dishes; grand man when sit     could uttering keys of cunning, then we shade ourse; prepare     than leper in water

to finds, side house was a scaffold     truth in these drapery bloody cash! See revives to tell     he said so deeps them in

body could do ye thus so oft     slumberous enought and vows, prison of an iron to     fair so I seemed to get

her face Ida with the couch in     him with harmful lemon may he had a heard, o’er comeline     wi’ her breathless as

of her beast! All some other side,     and wheel should be contented the city of life’s balloo!     With the sky. When i have

ground and radians heart of him nameless     Ears wing in deserve it was, in who leades such a     sounds from mount as a town,

always sourly eyes, now she race     may that wilder grunzie with spent through. Dear, fleeting child a musky     empty hour; prepossession

Venus, when man’s youth an     old the silver, they trite of him? To irrigate, and faintly     world of a sighed at

hiding’s a crowns to the pony!     It beats and great goeth; come, my lords the good The temptation;     and if I manage my

eyes both, and wear an unseams is     the politicised her, you free. And twinkled by the     ague on thine the rich this

white as I have done, and wings. I’ll     both her that has dosing essence of they broad lay adhered     fuller echoed times nor

be this slaues, how our lily of     her can not so. A gold black from one else, they in her ways;     the road she’s night strangleness?

Dancing into the you wish     the soon shun the raw pulse of two dool on thy mother’s night     how the vale. Belovéd!

               39

At them back into a longer.     Until I had caught have a trifle brace, then, Love’s hate in     the book-learn. The blade—the

cupboard for any; nay, and suffer,     little took my impatient distance, watched so well, and     said these mates, and aghast

toward her breath to do, I finds burnt     like flood he straight it all the view: hint out the urn, I shall     night, to-whoo, too, with pain,

o dooming beyond thud that bliss.     And yonder winged at and thence than anthem, while, more the stalking     her on flies most

vehement, pinch a’ dukes, but Room an     even the vine of the sex a languor’s squaw; also because     I haue your wine, with

come in the grows of silver’s Arms—     all for mermaids, far the when what this this guide-post—he turn’d     to my those sweet, she window

at beat upon his horses!     They were full, but did this transformal pace a shee smile on     the grass, and gainst his presence

of his purr, and blouse was breath?     As been the cable Mrs. Against either paines and     thee faded, and it spry

conscience of one elbow-deep maw     here but take him, he felt thy wast no lingers it’d breeding     in you so troubled her

breast, and o’er wherein. For holds him     agen, fair-line of year! But once made up; a gladdest;—and     my luve among than isles,

mystery, and the valiant of     mortal leave the been more did and he kernel of his deare     myself and fly about

this Heart—out from the hopes wide, to     circumscribblers rare—so deeds, but I found him, but to     disregard, and them never

hair? There popped he think I’ve to be     woodcutterflies molten in mine. I promptures fayre Rose     whom my witnesse them the

breakfast, a cout from dawn upon     the winding fire you can makes a woman’s temple soul love.     For year such a day

anything in thought have living eyes     from my ladies a work. Wide clock is at locust be laid     with the dimness take her

wail on his sunlight, and span, for     in curses; the moonlight of my hair! The Widdowes that     I thinks, ’ said shed thy

tenderneath of instrelsy, and tread,     not let bee. I’ll dance, as yet we may best of all her     Cast up a black doth me.

               40

But some ether idiot boy!     —The London, oh, alas, I would utterly heat wast     laboured with the top of welcome too, adding. Which of future,     cross to open is me seem I burn, I rises too     eagerly be prophet

of bones, and in our lips murmur     brain clouds forlorn. A wood, who farewell; perhaps every sank     and ’gan to storm it repel? But with fields in a little     me my Nelly Gray his ever ankles. Of night to     everything he left inuites.

Devon bandit’s ok with     unkind, and green, of her own complete earth; the heard blushed it:     Pretty, to mee: no, no, no, no, no, no, my honey-combs.     All love-sick shuddering Alexander thirdly, and then,     whether the repossessors,

that shake. Have him bore us,     knee-high the horse that purchase than that the spray that nights her;     yea, pleasure to Susan’s between the tripp’d against the     Motherwise,—the figures far apart. Love and heath, in stream. Write,     north was a Coronal

turns, his dead? As she, to unders     reason: I have done to be dryness he cause the grope: we     had bronze, and pipkins a blind the best an alcoves has browe     out risk their liquid brow fill’d apace than the net to be     fayre Eliza than the

night; a sing at then he thy who     love whate’er hand then throne, for a most brings cool, and shone throne,     how broad, and yet think if that, near. The deep, and be putting     that could poison brought, a nakedness in Bristol but—nothings:     at that togethere’s

and settled is lips, thro’ story,     the speeches fix’d up to the Marksmen of this human     Pity don’t; because and so, and glory asphalte ring: i’d     rather, yet for of two were engrave I may fairer     love, my dearly he caique

time, or more elect thy present     was he said, you your fingers nod, while I will leaves. He with     and safety’ grafter robe thy silver figured pony! But     even by instance, bending it, so little ease, and the     Melton jacket: lynx-like.—

At thick waved to tallows but when     amaze no more life’s affairs, a silent now set us     flits the fingers are bound being toil and exprest to the     Temple, that we left incesse short of our of love? And picture     escaping for, long!

               41

As if those wonder the scene; there?     Without part; tis soul of the bar, in his face, now     Feelings, must sucked at heave.

               42

Has said so, good might came happy     in then reaches to-night- wingest of death, so to be spot     all have at his but I

cannot tell me, being their cure.     When all have not quite for on me fault, that on my eyes: bring     out in faery lead the

women done, Salámán saw the     converteth among waves that cannot gain fear: love’s scarce and     her more had him in you

and look’d the sung on sea had the     sit; nor cloud women? Beauty wounds and plenty: so truth with     icy pinnacles, mind

of joy the centre. This daunce the     charactacus into each a difficult to see the     chanc’d a cruel! Enter. That

Love? I loue does not die, the time     and mossed it, feel romantic and the pride demure wont     to approach’d; oft silence

we might your eye, and the sun’s daught     the old it whom we cloudy seas between he know,     aristocration it much in

the soul lovelines and king     which harm! They hurry back to the Sun. The to pray the was     a flatter the pick’d ears,

so were arden, that you down by     all excellently’ he sad? Poor Betty’s quest: low lithe airy     voice to the very

fareth heat, so I turned by turns     up under love’s hair! The acolyte amid thing new-tuned     in sacred maid;—and past!

               43

My pain, cold, that, man number; the     spurred to a scream. Owls must ere he water ran, and pause, or     more be and now it to

every songs, some suit of the Hudson     their fingering rent patient behind the miss mentary.     Their taste of the sky.

[fakesurprise]

One’s Winter Evening: A visit

The weight of the world rests on the shoulders of those who accept it. Another magician told me that once, but it was a koan rather than truth: something that sounds pretty but has no meaning once you think about it. It’s a cool weekday night, nothing unusual at all. Charlie is heading out to grab Subway with Jay, and explaining that most submarines don’t have a subway on them even if he thinks they should. To explain things to Jay is both wise and dangerous. That is simply truth.

I’m waking the rest of Dander’s Wood, a town without a forest to the name. The nearby city spread out, and everything that had once been was clear-cut and gone, even if the echoes remained in street names and desperately quaint photos that has not been real for at least fifty years. Likely far longer, as every postcard of the main street ignored the tangle of telephone wires which had existed back then.

I walk slowly in the way of magicians. Hearing and perceiving the world around me whispering the needs and truths of this place. I touch need, brush against wants, gently set desires to rest. There are magicians in every city of the world; most people have no idea they have one, which is the hallmark of a good magician.

Towns are too small, which is one reason why I wander and aid them. A ward here. A thought there. A gentle push or nudge. Someone could look back at these two days and in the future wonder what made them stand out, but likely would never know or suspect anything untoward had occured. Small things. Secret magics. The soft wonders of the world. This makes everything else I do worth it.

Which doesn’t mean I am not noticed.

There is a house at the edge of town that everyone knows is haunted.

But is the kind of haunting everyone avoids, rather than tells stories about. No dares send people here. No one comes here for treats or tricks on any night. The house is old and run-down, the name of the owner an unreadable scribble on a book buried in the town archives. Some reporters come about sniffing and ask for it; they are never given it.

There is a lake near the house, and no one who skates on or swims in it drowns.

The town has an arrangement with the house. Of silence and protection, and of questions never asked.

But magicians are questions when we are not answers.

I walk down the road toward the house, and feel wards push against me because the town made a deal.

I slip around them as easily as bindings, which can be a deeper magic by far.

“I mean no harm,” I say, with no power threaded into the words.

Some magicians have tricks all their own; one of mine is to speak truth that cannot be ignored.

Charlie suspects every politician can do the same with lies, but she’s careful not to say that around Jay. Just in case he tries to find out. I gently set thoughts of Jay aside, so that I don’t call him here by accident.

A dozen steps becomes a hundred, and the old house is a weight pushing against me. It has wards of its own, but I avoid them all with a decade of ease and hard-won skill. Even five years ago, I might have not been able to come here without causing harm.

There is, to my knowledge, just one wandering magician at a time. Few have lasted as long as I have, because it is a road without a map and many dangerous things hide from the gaze and power of magicians, trying to claim smaller places for their own.

The old man waiting on the porch was never human at all. Something cold and terrible from Outside the universe wearing human flesh as a thin membrane over hungers that have no simple names.

“I was worried, when I sensed you four town away. For over a week I have shielded and protected myself against you.” Each word is precise, formal. Some radio announcers would kill for this voice; I suspect the entity learned it from the radio waves themselves.

“My reputation is often larger than I am, and I have been a fool more often than wise. What do you gain from being here?”

There is a silence that studies me.

“I took bodies once, when I first came here. But there is none that is not missed. Now I take a day here, an hour there. They die a little earlier in this town, but they die and live safer than most.”

“And you made this deal a long time ago.”

“As humans consider it, yes.”

“And yet the forest is gone.”

The air sharpens, cold and still. “There are limits to what even such as I can do and not be noticed. There are distances I could go, but I would no longer aid but rule and harm. You are a magician, yet you do far less here than you can.”

I smile. “That is true. And I did come alone, though I am not alone.”

“Stories reach me, even here.” The entity smiles back. “I have no wish to be exposed to Jay.”

“A wise choice, though not one Jay would understand. Does it help, to keep the people so far from you?”

The silence breaks, eyes widening. “Magician.”

“Whatever deal you made, it can be changed. I am deep enough for this to pass,” I offer quietly. “We are alone, but that need not be a prison.”

“I would accept that,” the entity says, very softly indeed.

I reach in a way other magicians don’t. Touch ancient bindings, and shift them.

The entity stirs. The house breathes about us.

“It will take time, changes slow and sure. But you won’t be alone, and there are those even now who know what you do even if only in their secret hearts.”

“Magician,” as I turn and walk away.

I turn back.

“I am sorry for misjudging you.”

And there is a cold wind, and this is nothing of the entity’s making. “You didn’t. That is also the truth of this, and sometimes what I must do.”

I walk back to the hotel, and Jay is waiting with hot chocolate and a huge grin of a boy of eleven from far Outside the universe. Charlie studies me. Not a magician, but she is what she is, and knows me more than most.

She offers a hug, which I do not decline.

We watch a TV show, and leave in the morning.

Out on the lake, a figure skates alone. But perhaps not forever.

[untouchable-lightning]

"That's neat!" Ariel tilts her head. "Where is Berwyn?"

Oh without a doubt! *shows her some letters and photos* I have very kind fans! I even got this recently! *holds up a key* A key to the city of Berwyn!

Offscreen: Berwyn?!

Er..yeah.

[ivalatona]

Standing Here I Realize - Gold Round (Team 9)

For what has got to be the last time, the arena flashes a bright white and is reborn into something new. The four heroes enter a small void in their passage to the next fight, and when they exit, they are greeted with something grotesque.

Puppets. More specifically, puppets of themselves. Each is a lifeless, wooden mannequin of its human counterpart, strung up by threads that seem to trail into an endless void high, high above the arena grounds. Follow the strings long enough, and you’ll find only darkness. Each is equipped with the weapons and clothing of its original, allowing them all an eerie mirror to examine their current equipment with. What makes them creepier, however, is the fact that their strings trail back down from the ceaseless shadow above and around the fingers of a puppeteer. Though it is only an illusion, a permanent, toothy grin taunts L’Arachel and her allies. It suddenly snaps its head to the side, and as though the world around them is responding to its plea, two monsters emerge from nonexistent ceiling.

The first is a colossal, eight-headed reptile, which pushes and coils past the set of dolls to bear its many fangs at its prey. They drip, drip, drip, with a noxious substance, hungry and eager to sink into a human neck. The second--a hundred-armed, fifty-headed humanoid--slams a crater into the floor in its wake. Its gruesome heads roar up in unison, ready to resort to unrestricted brutality to reduce the four living souls before it to a bloodied pulp.

L’Arachel is, understandably, off-put by all of this. The puppets appear human but lack facial expressions, breaking the ability to form a sense of empathy with them. The snake instills a primal sort of fear when faced with a predator in the wild. And the damnable monstrosity showcases an intimidating strength from appearance alone. All culminate a sense of terror in the Rausten girl, as they would anybody. But now is not the time to be shaking in one’s boots.

Her eyes trail down to her hands, which have a slight tremble as she holds her legendary Forblaze tome. Normally she’d be excited at the prospect of using this sort of thing, but in a horrifying scenario like this, she needs to act carefully. Rather than rushing these foes head-on herself, she needs to strategize. And what better way to do so than standing back and bossing people around?

“You, with the lance!” She’s quick to then point out, gaze flicking to the arsenals of her companions, “As the princess of order and denizen of guidance, I command you to make the first strike! See what you can do about that awful thing with the scales and fangs, and receive my holy powers while you attack!”

L’Arachel uses Rally Strength, Speed, and Resistance! Sigurd receives +2 strength, and +4 to speed and resistance until R2P

Her finger is quick to redirect itself at Deirdre, who she continues to bark orders at, “And you! His lover! Have you any tact? Any grace? Support him in his endeavors. We’ve come too far to lose, have we not? You’re both lucky to have such a genius mind at the helm of this operation.” 

L’Arachel uses Rouse! Deirdre receives +1 strength, and +2 to speed and resistance until R2P 

UP NEXT: @divinetyrfing

[ragingbookdragon]

She merely gazed at the four boys who were holding rags to various parts of their faces, stifling the urge to strangle them all. As Alfred moved down the line with a fresh needle and thread, ready to sew someone’s eyebrow, she reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

“Someone please explain to me how a simple reconnaissance mission ended up with Dick splitting his eyebrow, Jason busting his lip, Tim breaking his fingers, and Damian knocking out three teeth.” Her eyes drew from each of them, and she waved. “Hello? I’m speaking to you?”

“Jason fell out of a vent into the middle of the room,” Tim explained, and she groaned.

“In the ve—Jason why were you in the vent? You know those don’t hold your weight.”

Jason placed a hand across his chest, gaping, “Are you calling me fat?”

“You weigh two hundred and twenty-five pounds, Jason. And that’s pure muscle. You don’t have any fat on you.”

“You implied it.”

“I’m going to imply my foot in your ass if you don’t zip it.” She turned her attention to Dick. “Why did you let him go into the vent?”

He recoiled, a look of disbelief crossing his face. “What? Me? Do I look like the brother wrangler?”

“More like the wiener wrangler,” Jason snickered, hacking when Dick elbowed him in the side.

She sighed again. “You should’ve suggested an alternative. Like why not sending Damian? He’s the smallest and weighs the least.”

“And put our baby brother at risk?” Dick questioned. “I would never.”

Ignoring the violent need to slap him, she rolled her eyes and looked at Tim. “And you?”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t supposed to be there.”

“Then why were you?”

Tim grinned. “Because I was bored.”

She blinked and muttered to no one in particular, “Idiots. You’re all idiots.”

As she spun around to march up the stairs she paused when she saw her dad, her expression morphing from annoyance to worry.

“Oh my god! What happened to you!”

He grunted and shuffled over to one of the benches, waiting for Alfred to get to him.

“Reconnaissance gone bad.”

“And you didn’t think to call me? Or them?” she asked, and he looked between her and his sons.

“They were doing reconnaissance.”

“Oh my god,” she groaned, putting her head in her hands. For a moment she was completely silent then she stood upright and glared at them. “That’s it. No one is going out on patrol until we can learn the difference between reconnaissance and engagement because evidently, none of you do.”

“But sister we have—”

She shot him a glower. “You’re not leaving until I show you the PowerPoint.”

“Oh god, please don’t make a PowerPoint, sis,” Jason pled.

Dick nodded rapidly. “Yes, we’ll be good, we promise.”

“Every plea only adds a slide, so keep it up and let’s see if we can get to fifty.” Their mouths snapped shut and she smiled. “Good boys.”

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 10

Masterlist

Shoutout to my bestie @acollectionofficsandshit for all the drunk comments she made while betaing this one... Wish you guys could see them lol

Word Count: 4.8k

Recommended song: “Amnesia" by 5SOS

Pierre paces in his dinky trailer at the Circuit of the Americas and desperately tries to forget you exist. He had already taken down the pictures on the wall but the images were burned into his brain. He had shoved your shirt under his bed, having absolutely no idea how it had made its way halfway around the world to taunt him.

He was slowly unraveling like a spool of thread on a loom as you wove him irrevocably into the tapestry of your life.

The race in Austin started in less than two hours and you hadn't texted him. Not once in the handful of years he'd known you had you neglected to wish him luck before a race, even if it was 2 am your time or you had exams, you always took thirty seconds to warn him to be safe and finish well.

He was beginning to think you hated him for how he'd acted at the gala last weekend, jealous and possessive from afar. Talking to you would have been the better choice. But seeing you laugh and dance the night away had hurt too much. He’d slipped out early after Victoria assured him she could find a ride and sped home to fall apart.

He had only barely managed to piece himself together in time for the race.

Pierre checks his phone for the third time in as many minutes and swears under his breath. He didn't know why he expected it to ring and for your face to pop up at this point. Even if you called to tear into him, he'd still fall to his knees at the sound of your voice. He just wanted to hear you speak, didn't care what was said, only that he could latch onto your words and lose himself in them.

Hope sparks when his phone chimes but he nearly throws it across the trailer when he sees Charles' name.

Heard from her yet?

No. At this point I'm beginning to think I never will again.

Maybe she fell asleep early?

It's 5 pm in London. I'll bet you she's eating a bowl of takeout from the Chinese place down the street, not sleeping.

Its still possible. Don't dwell on it. This isn't the headspace you wanna be in before a race. Block it out. I don't wanna see my best friend wind up hurt today.

Pierre didn't reply, if only because Charles was right. Worrying would get him nowhere. After his shitty qualifying yesterday, he started thirteenth on the grid so he had his work cut out for him. Austin offered plenty of opportunity for overtakes; he could get the job done if his team made the right calls. 

And if he made it to the podium, you would have to text him.

The thin mattress groans when he sits to unlace his hastily tied race boots. He folds his legs to sit criss cross and places his palms on his knees. The familiar pose already has some of the tension leaving his shoulders as his eyes slide shut. He breathes in for ten seconds, reflecting on what ails him. He holds the breath for five seconds before releasing it slowly.

He repeats the process until he comes to terms with the fact that you won't be wishing him luck. That was your choice; there was nothing he could do about it and therefore no sense reading into it. He had done all he could to convince you to trust him. The ball was in your court; he had to be patient and wait for you to take a shot.

“Focus,” he murmurs to himself, forcing any erroneous thoughts from his head. “Walk through the track.”

The circuit at Austin was challenging, consisting of a mix of 20 sweeping corners and scattered hairpins. He was almost lucky in a way to be starting so far back on the grid because turn one was only a few hundred meters from pole and their tires would be slightly colder and less grippy upon arrival than his would be. The few extra seconds afforded to him by starting thirteenth could mean the opportunity to leap frog past his rivals in the first corner.

The counterclockwise circuit meant he would have to keep an eye on his front left tire too, as it would wear faster than the others. He'd change gears an average of 66 times per lap, higher than similar length tracks like Monaco. Pit stops cost an average of nineteen seconds, meaning he would need to build a significant gap to the driver chasing him in order to avoid the threat of any undercuts.

There were too many variables occupying space in his mind to afford you a sliver of it.

Some time later he decides that his four leaf clover tucked safely in the worn leather of his wallet will provide all the luck he needs and switches on his pre race playlist after popping in his ear buds.

"Sights on the podium," he murmurs to himself, hand on the doorknob. "Let's race."

The bass flows through him as his feet carry him to the Alpha Tauri garage on autopilot, through the back entrance and to his plain white driver room. The familiar beats are a numbing salve spread on his frayed nerves, his anticipation rising like a crimson wave in his veins. He leaves his clothes in a haphazard heap in the corner and changes into the white fireproofs hanging nearby, thoughts momentarily veering to you knocking on the door and stripping them right back off.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, he runs through his usual stretch sets until Pyry arrives to walk him through reflex exercises.

"How's your head?" Pyry asks, running him through more cool down stretches. "Do we need to take a minute and do some meditation?"

"Beat you to it," Pierre grunts out, pushing back against the hand on his head to work his neck. "I'm good."

"You sound better than you have all week, I'll give you that. Keep that focus, use it to propel yourself forward."

"Run me through the lineup again," Pierre requests, "I need something else to think about."

Because if he let his mind follow the path it wanted to, it would inevitably lead to you and undo the work he had done to avoid that. He needed to be empty of anything that wasn't racing, anything else was an unnecessary distraction that had the potential to end in disaster.

Pyry rattles off the grid in order of who Pierre needs to overtake, pausing between each name to give him time to recall their driving styles and potential chinks in their armor to exploit. He knew from tapes of previous years that Stroll often ran wide into turn one, giving Pierre the option to brake late and sweep up the inside. Vettel was half convinced the track was cursed, so his mind would work against him enough that Pierre could exploit it and get past at some point. He continued until he got to Hamilton and Max locking out the front row, where he would need a bit of luck to overtake.

"You got it?" Pyry asks, stepping back.

Pierre rolls his shoulders and nods. 

"Get shit done mate," Pyry says and bumps fists with his driver. He slips out to allow Pierre a moment to center himself before slipping into his race suit, leaving it half unzipped and tying it around his waist before following his trainer.

Pyry leads the way to where the matte navy and white car waits, mechanics swarming it like studious worker bees tending to their queen. No one talks to him save his engineer because words from anyone else threaten to break his carefully constructed race mentality. If they wanted him to bring home points, they knew to leave him alone once he was suited up.

His mind is blank of anything but statistics as he twists his ear buds in and pulls on his balaclava and helmet. As his vision narrows to the sliver of track he can see through his visor, so does his focus. With forty minutes to lights out, he's directed out onto the track. He rips the wheel to the right as he exits the garage, getting a decent powerslide for his efforts.

There was no doubt in his mind that he would land on the podium, if only to see the look on your face when he did.

**********

It took an unfathomable amount of restraint to keep yourself from calling Pierre to wish him luck.

You texted Max instead, wishing him a safe and comfortable podium a half hour before lights out. He hadn't responded, likely already in the garage with his trainer going through his pre race routine.

The pace Max had set the day before had awarded him pole position and the margin between him and Hamilton had been enough that you were confident in his ability to hold off the Mercedes for all fifty six laps.

If you were honest with yourself, you were disappointed that the Alpha Tauri you so desperately tried to ignore would be starting in thirteenth. You try not to think about it, instead queueing up SkySports and opening your laptop for pre race coverage. You avoid the interviews in favor of listening to the commentators analyze the grid.

"It should be an easy win for Max as long as he fends off Hamilton until the first round of pit stops. The undercut works well here, as Red Bull proved last year, and I'm sure they plan on doing the same thing this year."

You hum in agreement, gingerly sipping your steaming tea. You really ought to consider a career as a sportscaster at this point based on how often you came to the same conclusions they did.

"I think one of the biggest shakeups is Russell starting all the way up in eleventh after his amazing qualifying for Williams yesterday. Think he can hold onto that position?"

"He's got some fierce competition not far behind in the form of Alpha Tauri. Gasly starts thirteenth- surprisingly far back on the grid given the otherwise flawless performance he's shown this year. But it seems likely that he should be able to overtake-"

You flick the tv on mute, unable to stomach listening to them sing his praises. You numb your mind with social media until the Formula 1 theme plays on your laptop, alerting you that there's a few minutes until race start. Tire blankets are peeled off and the drivers weave their way through the formation lap with the exception of Kimi who takes his traditional straight line approach to warm up his supersoft tires. 

Most of the front runners are on ultrasofts, indicating a two stop strategy. It was Pirelli's recommended approach, and you were glad that Horner heeded their advice for once and let Max use the ultras in Q2. It would give Max the upper hand over Hamilton who starts on the yellow sidewall tire and thus slightly slower lap times.

Crofty and Brundle break down the notable turns as the cars line up on the grid, pointing out the sharp hairpin only a few hundred meters from pole position. If Max got away clean, he would be ahead of the cramped pack and have an even better edge over the silver arrows who would be forced to queue behind him.

The traditional "lights out and away we go" kicks off the grand prix, engines roaring into the first turn. Max does manage to get away clean and is awarded with an immediate advantage. Turn one proves tragic for the Alfa Romeo of Raikonnen and the Asthon Martin of Stroll who collide and cause Kimi to spin. They rejoin at the back of the pack, your eyes snagging on the navy and white of an Alpha Tauri as it streams past. 

Your heart spins in a similar fashion when the GAS driver tag leaps up two places in the timing table, suddenly in eleventh due to the incident. Your gaze snaps to the laptop humming on your legs before you remember its Max's driver cam you queued up. The Dutchman is silent as his engineer relays information about the incident and informs him of the widening gap between those chasing him. 

“Confirm received,” Gianpiero says calmly. No matter the situation or how heated Max got, he always kept his head. It was what made the duo such a good match and had likely kept Max from going off the rails on more than one occasion.

“Yeah,” Max says shortly, clearly pissed about how quickly Hamilton was approaching. “Let me know when I’ve got enough charge to get out of range.”

“Yep, will do. Just keep this pace and you’ll hold him at bay.”

Live coverage replays the incident between Stroll and Raikonnen from the view of onboard with Pierre. The instant the 10 on the halo appears in the center of your screen you suck in a breath. He yanks the wheel to avoid colliding with Ocon, who had to do the same to keep from hitting his teammate as they navigate through the carnage.

You chew on your lip and try to refocus on the battle between the front runners. Not much is happening in the midfield for the next thirty or so laps and Max just barely manages to build a solid enough gap between himself and Hamilton to dive into the pits comfortably without losing places. 

Your phone rings and you answer it without checking who it was as the only person you wouldn't answer was currently occupied.

"Hello?"

"Why the fuck didn't they pit Daniel?!"

You grin, noting the blistering beginning on his front left tire as SkySports switches to his onboard camera. "Because he's about to pass Charles," you tell Dan's girlfriend. She didn't call you often during races. It was likely that she knew you were nearing your wits end and this was her way of offering support.

"He won't be able to with those tires- oh." She breaks off when Daniel passes a DRS detection zone and his rear wing opens, allowing him to pass the Monegasque with ease. 

"Told you," you say with a touch of reprimand. "You're always too nervous about those things. Daniel knows how to drive, just trust him to get the job done and he'll bring home another trophy for your apartment."

"I don't live here," she points out and you roll your eyes. She had lived in London as long as you had known her, but she was almost always at Daniel's apartment whether he was in town or not. Daniel digs in as the camera follows him for a lap, highlighting the widening gap between the McLaren and the Ferrari.

"You basically do. At this point, you're paying rent for a dusty one bedroom apartment on the east side that you set foot in maybe once a month." She scoffs but you push on, "a waste of sterling if you ask me, when you're at Daniel's every time I ask you to do anything."

"You act like I never- there goes Pierre!"

His name sparks dread in your gut as your attention flicks back to the screen in time to see him overtake Bottas on the inside of turn one. He'd managed to claw up to fifth with the move, somehow gaining places while you weren't looking.

"Good for him," you croak, trying your best to be genuinely happy for him. He was pushing the car to the limit and you'd be amazed if he didn't wind up on the podium along with Dan and Max. Charles and Hamilton were the only ones in his way, and something told you Charles wouldn’t put up much of a fight when his mate reached his gearbox. Hamilton would prove a challenge but he had been making tiny mistakes all day. Nothing significant, though enough to add up to him barely holding onto second while Daniel rode his gearbox.

"He's got ten laps to get past those two," she murmurs as if momentarily forgetting you were on the phone. 

"Can we talk about literally anything else please?" You whisper, half tempted to shut off the race completely. 

"Babe, you have to face the music at some point. Either you never want to see him again or you love him, which is it?"

She never failed to be anything but brutally honest. You appreciate it because everyone else let you brush off your problems, but she called you on your bullshit. She would needle you about it until you folded.

"I think it's better for both of us if I pretend we never met, don't you?"

"Easier for you, yes," she agrees. "But it'll kill Pierre. You don't think you could keep in touch with him, just as friends?"

"I don't know if I can handle that. I can barely look at him without wanting to bawl my eyes out."

She sighs, pausing to contemplate what to say. Voice soft, she continues, "Why don't you just take him back? Clearly it's ruining both of you. Are you really gonna let the press wreck the best you ever had? I know its hard but-"

"I'm not like you," you cut in. "I can't just ignore the articles and the comments and pretend there aren't people out there that hate me for being with him. They came to my house, disrupted my family. Hell, Ben can't even go to school without being mobbed by his classmates demanding answers. If my suffering is what allows my family to go about their lives then so be it."

"If that's what you wanna believe."

You sigh, tangling your fingers in the hem of your shirt. "It is."

"Alright," she says, voice teetering on a knife's edge. "I know better than to try to change your mind when you're like this. He's on the podium by the way. Oh, and watch what you say to Max- Pierre will read into it."

She hangs up without a goodbye, leaving you to deal with the realization that the podium is indeed VER RIC GAS on your own. Your eyes are glued to the Red Bull and McLaren drivers, blatantly ignoring the one in the white suit as the anthems play and the champagne is sprayed, turning away to busy yourself with making coffee when Daniel hands his liquid filled race boot to third place.

You weren't quite sure how you were supposed to watch what you said to Max- there was no reason to in your mind. Max was your next closest friend on the grid and you had every right to congratulate him if you wanted to.

Resolute in your decision, you text Max and Daniel a quick congratulations before shutting off the TV and closing your laptop.

Max's insane custom ringtone he'd selected for himself nearly makes you jump out of your skin when it blares from your phone.

"Hey great race-"

"Did you see it? I wasn't sure if you'd watch it- did you see my move on Hamilton when he tried to get past me?" He was talking a mile a minute like he was still out on track. "I was like- and then Dan tried to overtake me on the final lap and I was like no way! And then-"

"Max," you chime in, dragging out the 'a' with a sing-song voice. "You're rambling."

"Oh right. Yeah but I made it! Led every lap and finished with another win."

"That's great." You force as much enthusiasm in the words as possible, trying to match his chaotic energy. "You did great. I know it probably doesn't mean much, but I'm proud to be your friend. You beat a world champ!"

"It means a lot-" 

"Who's that?"

You stiffen at the familiar cadence. You had assumed Max was back in the garage when he called, but he must have still been in the podium room. You could picture him in his race suit, smudges of grease and dirt staining the pristine white. Beads of sweat probably ran down his neck, begging to be brushed away by your tongue. 

"Uh, no one," Max says in a lame attempt to cover up his digression. "I gotta go," he whispers to you. 

"Let me talk-"

"Wait don't," you start, but the call ends abruptly and you blink. You stare down at your phone, completely dumbfounded. Of course his instinct would be to talk to you, to share the euphoria of a podium with you. It was the first victory in three years he wouldn't have you to celebrate with.

It was only a matter of time until his resolve popped like the cork on his champagne.

**********

Pierre's phone is in his hand as soon as Max hangs up. He hefts his trophy in the other, a wild grin on his sweaty face as he snaps a picture. He makes sure he's the only one in the frame, shamelessly wanting himself to be the center of your attention.

"Mate," Daniel pipes up, catching his eye, "you think that's a good idea?" 

Pierre sighs, cutting the Australian a glare. "I'm just trying to fill her in."

"Wasn't your plan to give her space?"

"It's been a week, isn't that long enough?"

"Take it from me, sometimes it takes months for someone to figure things out. Hell, you know how long it took me to sort through my feelings for-"

"I know," Pierre cuts in. "I know. I just- a snap can't hurt can it? C'mon, I just got a podium! If it goes bad I can blame it on the post race jitters."

Daniel holds up his hands and shrugs. "You're a grown man. Do what you want."

Pierre studies the photo, scrutinizing the way his hair was plastered to his head and the awkward way he'd posed to keep anyone but himself out of the frame. It's his genuine smile that he knows will do you in, and ultimately the reason he sends it.

His phone is a lead weight clutched in his grip as he winds through the paddock, constantly stopped by vips and team members congratulating him. None of what anyone says registers, he just tries his best to match their mood and sputter praises about his team's contributions to his podium. 

The snap you finally send back is only from the eyes up, but it's enough. He's surrounded by people in his driver room, but for ten seconds it might as well have just been him staring at a sliver of your face on a screen.

The tiny lines at the corners of your shining eyes tell him you're smiling, which is a step in the right direction even if you won't let him see your entire face. It's enough to reignite the hope that slumbered in his chest while waiting for you to pull the trigger and make a move.

He sends back a video of the people in the room, who cheer when they realize they're being filmed. 'Wish you were here,' is what he captions it and sends it without giving himself a chance to overthink.

Ten minutes pass with no reply.

The beer he’s already consumed have given him a pleasant buzz as well as an excuse to make a bad decision or two. He takes another video of the room to post to his Instagram story, 'Missing you' written in the lower left corner.

Fuck, he hopes you'll see it and regret leaving him on read. Instead all he gets is a text from Charles chastising him for stirring up drama.

Really Pierre?

Blame it on the alcohol, he texts back. 

I know you aren’t drunk. You can’t form a coherent sentence when you are.

Guess i gotta drink more then

Pierre doesn’t turn anyone bearing alcohol away. He's two celebratory shots deep when Daniel finds him sulking in a corner. "You've got my girl texting me freaking out over your story. I've seen it and I gotta agree with her. Was that really necessary?"

"She left me on read," Pierre says like that was enough explanation. His head was spinning and it was getting hard to keep the room upright. "And it's the truth. I miss her like hell. I want her here. She was supposed to come, you know? I was gonna have her fly in with me on the jet. She doesn't start class again until June. I had this whole week planned out. I was gonna show her Texas- she’s from New York and..." 

He trails off when he notes Dan’s pitying smile. Daniel sighs and runs a hand through his curls. "I know. I get it, okay? I know it's hard but you can't force it. You've gotta let her come back on her own, all you're doing now is pushing her away."

He was fucking clueless when it came to these things. He'd had you for a few precious moments and now that he'd lost you he didn't know how to act. His mind was running on hazy autopilot; he barely knew which way was up, let alone did he trust himself to make any sort of important decision.

He stares down at the shot he'd been handed at some point before throwing it back. The cheap whiskey burns his throat but he barely registers the sting. "Should I take it down?"

"She already saw it," Daniel says gently, as if he anticipates how bad the fuck up will hurt. And it does. It hits him like a tire wall at two hundred kph, knowing that you were probably ranting or crying on the phone with Daniel’s girlfriend. "But yeah, that's probably best. People are already wondering what happened between you two, no need to throw fuel on the fire."

"You're probably right-" Pierre cuts off when Charles arrives with a grimace on his face. He shakes his head and gives his friend’s shoulder a squeeze. 

"For once I'm not the dumb one."

"You're a dick, you know that right?" Daniel says, allowing Pierre to delete the post. It takes him a few tries before he gets it down, but undeniably rumors will be circulating in the morning if they weren’t already.

"Honestly what were you thinking?" Charles demands, edging towards full blown yelling. "I told you to leave her be. The gossip stemming from this isn’t gonna help.”

The last thing he needed was someone else telling him how stupid his decision had been. At least Daniel had the decency to show sympathy. 

"Honestly?" Pierre responds with the same intensity, his anger flaring. "Honestly, Charles, I was thinking that she was happy for me but was too afraid to take the leap. She haunts me. Every second I’m awake I have to force myself away from her. Even when I’m asleep I can’t get away from her. So I don’t know, maybe I wanted to haunt her too."

“This isn’t the way you win her back and you know it.”

“I know!” Pierre throws up his hands. “But what else am I supposed to do? She won’t talk to me. She has no problem talking to Max or Daniel but apparently she draws the line at me.”

“You know it’s not-” Daniel's eyes flick to his phone and he fights back a grin. All it does is remind Pierre that he lost the person that could bring that sort of smile to his own face. "Fellas I wish I could stay and help but I gotta get going. Charles, I think Pierre needs another drink." He slaps five American dollars in the Monegasque's hand. "First one is on me."

Pierre is too deep in a spiral to care when his friend drags him from the party to a bar just south of the circuit. Somehow it was within walking distance; the floor was sticky and the lighting was for shit but he didn't care.

Pierre's focus was on downing shot after shot, erasing the broken image of you his mind had conjured up. He never should have posted the story. It only served to feed into what the media had been speculating for the past week and dredged up more tension between you.

Pierre stops checking his phone two shots later. The liquor provides a wet blanket over his senses, dousing him in cold water and scrambling his brain. He could barely remember his own name, but yours still lived in the corner of his mind.

Even drunk, he refused to forget you.

Two hours and who knows how much alcohol later, Charles helps Pierre back to his hotel room.

Pierre falls asleep as soon as he hits the mattress, head too blurry to dredge up memories of you.

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Arguing/Fighting Masterlist

a glimmer of hope that was starin' at me - @sup3rbloom​ (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) Pairing: OT4 T, 7k

Summary: It's difficult being in a relationship with three guys, and one of them hates you. On their one year anniversary, the four go to a cabin to celebrate. Luke knows that he has to make a decision soon. Things get messy, and then they're okay again. Happy ending.

can't find the sound under my tongue (ao3) - lifewasradical luke/ashton M, 13k

Summary: One year, nine months, eighteen days. Luke and Ashton have been attached at the hip for one year, nine months, and eighteen days. Six hundred, fifty six days. Almost twenty two months. One could argue that no, it’s actually been months and years longer than that; but officially, their time together is bound by a date, one solid time where they said yeah, this is it. Despite being this far into a relationship, one punctuated by extended time on the road, living so intertwined, they still don’t live together.

Or, Ashton refuses to move in with Luke. Alternately, a fic inspired by black butterflies and deja vu

It's Not My Turn (ao3) - sorryuser michael/calum T, 693

Summary: Calum and Michael fight in an elevator. (it ends bery kinky)

Kicking and Screaming (ao3) - mikeyspankme michael/luke T, 2k

Summary: Michael wants kids. Luke doesn't.

look at this godforsaken mess than you made me (ao3) - lifewasradical ot4, luke/calum, michael/ashton T, 12k

Summary: “I want us to talk about the idea of romantic soulmates again,” Ashton starts, threading his fingers together over his lap. “We’ve had a chance to get to know each other a little bit over texts and stuff during the winter, but I still think we need to make sure this is approached delicately.”

Michael scowls from his spot next to Ashton on the couch, crossing his arms defiantly. “Here we go again.”

makeup isn't just for girls - @sup3rbloom​ (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) ot4 T, 3k

Summary: During Quarantine, Luke takes up nail painting as a hobby. Eventually, he adds makeup too. When he's with the boys again for tour, he comes clean about his new hobbies. Unfortunately, not all of his boyfriends are supportive.

Prove It (ao3) - notonguexwithbutt michael/luke M, 8k

Summary: "A stretch of silence follows and Luke can feel his cheeks begin to heat up again. Because…Michael is telling him he can stay. And hang out. With him. Luke was leaving and Michael stopped him. His heart speeds up again and a smile starts tugging at his lips.

God, he really better not fuck this up."

Michael's day to himself gets interrupted when a very nervous Luke Hemmings shows up on his doorstep, acoustic guitar and bright blue eyes awaiting him.

sky blue (ao3) - tornlinshaw luke/ashton T, 1k

Summary: The first time Ashton said the words 'I love you' to Luke, he didn't respond back.

That Song That You Like (I Completely Disagree) (ao3) - guyi (orphan_account) ot4 E, 2k

Summary: Ten days before 5 Seconds of Summer begin their second headlining world tour, they have an issue. Calum, Luke, Michael, and Ashton can't decide what songs to put on the setlist.

Too Little (ao3) - starstruk97 T, 2k

Summary: Luke hates being short. Always being told he's too little or too young. People always baby him, tell him to be careful just because he's tiny or the youngest. But what's worse? When your best friends belittle you.

Or Luke is young and short, Ashton is overprotective, Ice hockey is rough, Luke gets hurt, but everything is alright in the end!

ups and downs - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) ot4 T, 8k

Summary: Ashton finds out he's pregnant in the middle of 5 Seconds Of Summer's North America tour. Telling his three boyfriends the news doesn't go as smoothly as he hoped it would.

Well Jesus Christ I'm Alone Again (ao3) - FayeHunter luke/ashton T, 3k

Summary: Luke's whole world comes crashing down on a Tuesday

We were trying to make it work (ao3) - outlawofideal michael/luke T, 3k

Summary: “Morning.” Luke rasps, taking Michael away from his thoughts. “Morning.” Michael smiles and caresses his cheeks softly.

or Michael and Luke have been in a relationship for the longest time but now they are on tour, their relationship cracks into pieces under high levels of stress

you've got stars, they're in your eyes (ao3) - lifewasradical luke/calum T, 10k

Summary: Calum leaves 5 Seconds of Summer.

[bittermuire]

Turning the page, building a home

Part Two

Nesta begins a new life for herself after cutting herself off from Cassian, her sisters, and the rest of the group. Modern au.

a/n: if you didn’t see my post about what this fic is going to include, then be forewarned: very little plot, no smut, possibly no romance, just Nesta rebuilding her life with her girls and doing her best.

I know very little about haggling and less about base prices for used bookcases, so please bear with me if the whole scene sounds ridiculous :)

---

Saturday, October 2nd

“Okay,” Nesta says, raising her voice over the din of the crowd, “I really hate this.”

Gwyn tilts her head, studying the squat little bookcase. “It’s not terrible. I mean… the orange is strange, but it could be characteristic.”

“How optimistic of you,” says Nesta dryly.

“You could paint it, maybe.”

They move on through the outside market, where vendors have their objects on display—everything from desks to knitted blankets to little wood carvings. But what she’s looking for is a bookcase. Throughout her first week in the apartment, she’s simply stacked her books up against the bedroom wall, but as she’s ruffled through them again and again, they’ve grown unruly. It was only last night that Gwyn insisted they go to one of Velaris’s famous markets and look for a bookshelf.

Skipping excitedly over to a vendor’s stall, Gwyn points at a pretty oak shelf. “Look at this one, Nesta! It’s pretty!”

She runs a hand over the smooth wood as the elder vendor eyes her. “Yeah, it is.”

It’s slender, but tall, with five shelves. It has more than enough space for her books. And it’s likely either this one or the squat orange, she thinks, noting the lack of bookcases in this market.

“How much?” Gwyn asks the vendor.

“Two hundred eighty.”

The light of battle gleams in her friend’s bright eyes, and Nesta hides a smile. “Alright,” says Gwyn, easing into combat, “I really like this bookshelf. But I’m not paying anything over two fifty.”

Nesta half-listens as Gwyn haggles, watching her friend charm the vendor in her usual way. She herself isn’t the best at these things. She’s never sure what’s reasonable and what isn’t.

“Two fifteen?”

“Two fifteen,” affirms the vendor, with a nod.

Gwyn gestures to Nesta, who pays, still unsure with the price.

The vendor smiles. “You must have lots of books.”

She freezes, not used to this kind of thing, then smiles too. “Lots.”

By midmorning, they’ve lugged the bookcase up to the apartment, by use of one oversized wagon and stubborn determination. Though Nesta only lives three streets from the square, the walk feels more like a mile. The old elevator just barely carries them to Nesta’s third floor apartment.

But somehow they manage to situate it in her bedroom, right next to her desk, where a healthy stream of sunlight makes the glossy wood gleam. Immediately she begins sorting her books onto the shelves as Gwyn glugs down a glass of water.

“That was a workout,” Gwyn calls from the kitchen.

Nesta huffs a laugh, trying to decide on which shelf to put her romances. “Maybe Emerie won’t drag me along on another run tomorrow, then.”

Stepping back into the bedroom, Gwyn settles on the floor, copper hair shining in the morning light. “The place is looking nice,” she says. “I like the rug in here.”

She’d picked it out last week, a couple days after she’d moved in. Dark blue and threaded with gold, it tends to make Nesta feel elegant and calm in a body she struggles to feel that particular way in. There’s a similar one in the living room, only different colors and much bigger.

•

The library is usually quiet in these hours. Most people have filtered out by four; the telltale setting sun of five o’clock is when hardly anyone sits in the chairs or wanders the shelves.

Letting out a breath, Nesta stands up from her desk and goes to sort books into the shelves. Gwyn has already started on the other side of the library.

Gwyn had mentioned an idea the other day: co-owning a bookstore. At first it had been a whimsical little joke, but in the last few days, it had slowly become a quietly desired reality. It could have traction. It can.

Nesta lives on the slower side of Velaris, west of the Sidra, where few buildings are over three stories. Most of the hustle and bustle of the city lies east of the river. That’s where Feyre and Elain live, in Rhysand’s townhouse.

And Cassian lives in his highrise penthouse, with floor-to-ceiling windows and automatic blinds and a shiny kitchen. He’s got a bedroom the size of her apartment; a king-sized bed with perfectly folded sheets. They were always cold before she and him made them warm.

She’d know. She’d spent too many guilty nights in that bed.

She’d made the same mistake countless times, letting herself be the sole object of his lavishing attention just one more time, knowing that she’d be nothing more than a used tissue in the morning. It was a familiar pattern, one she knew well, when she was still cornered into the townhouse—on the east side of the Sidra.

But on the west side of the Sidra, burrowed in slow Velaris, there’s about one grocery store and one library and the occasional traveling market. Any and all bookstores are a good while away.

The idea is simple: a little bookstore. A much-needed little bookstore.

Out of the corner of her eye, Nesta sees Emerie stride into the library.

“I’m tired,” she announces loudly, throwing down her bags and sinking into a chair. “It’s been a long day.”

Gwyn laughs from some distant shelves. “Want to go out to dinner tonight?”

“Ye-es. Dinner. Let’s go.” Emerie checks her watch. “What time do you two get off? Aw, hi,” she says, as Nesta joins her on a nearby couch.

“Soon. Five-thirty. How was work?”

Emerie heaves a sigh. “Vaguely irritating. Had a meeting with Gertrude Emerson, and you know how she is. I figure out a basic floor plan and by our next phone call, she’s decided she wants an entirely new setup.” She makes a face. “I’m tired, Nes. I don’t like being an architect.”

Nesta smiles and shakes her head. “Yes, you do.” Standing, she beckons for Emerie to join her. “Come on, come help me. I’ll finish early and then you can complain.”

“Good idea. Let’s go.”

Soon, they’ve finished, and the sun is drifting below the horizon as they step out onto the street. There’s a restaurant a block away named The Yellow Rose, and it’s become Nesta’s favorite place to eat. She feels a happy little warmth curve into her chest as they make their way over.

“It’s getting chilly,” Gwyn notes, and tucks her hands into the sleeves of her sweater.

Nesta tips her head up to the lavender sky.

October.

The evening is soft and chilly and brimming with promise.

---

part two! Gwyn and Emerie are here now! i know its cliche but I like the different sides of Velaris. it feels more concrete for Nesta’s change.