#anthea meeks

[minisinmedia]

Dilys Laye as Anthea Meeks wearing very tight and very short blue/white-striped short shorts Joan Sims as Joan Fussey wearing super short black short shorts on Carry On Camping (1969)

[blissfulalchemist]

❛ i want to see your true face. ❜ whoever you’re feeling!

Sooooo I couldn't put the exact prompt in this but it does have the vibes I hope as I really did write this with the intention to put the exact phrasing in there but it just didn’t work out as such. but I do hope you’re able to enjoy a little Anthea and Hythlodaeus!

spoiler warning for Endwalker things, no other warnings needed other then them being sweet and cute.

word count: 5k

“Anthea,” Hythlodaeus begins, “I’ve been curious about something.” They look up, giving a small tilt of their head, “Why don’t you feel comfortable taking your mask off?” Anthea touches the smooth mask frowning, ��I’m not saying that you have to, I would never dream of forcing such a thing on you, I just don’t believe I’ve ever seen you without it.”

“Oh, I guess I just start to forget that I even have it on.” They let their fingers trace along the edges, “I don’t mean to disrespect you or hurt your feelings in any way.”

“You haven’t,” he says with a smile that shines ever more bright in the late afternoon sun, “I feel we’ve known each other for quite awhile and I guess I just assumed that you would have felt comfortable enough to take your mask off around me.” 

They pull their knees up, hugging them to their chest, “I do. I would. I just,” Anthea hums a moment, eyes staring off the edge of the Twelve Wonders, “well I don’t think I’ve ever removed it for anyone beyond my parents or for identification.” Anthea gives a light laugh, glancing back over at Hythlodaeus, “It’s not like I hang around that many people outside of work, so there isn’t too much of a point is there.”

“I guess you’re right,” he moves closer, watching to see if they shift unconsciously like they have before, which doesn’t happen, Anthea staying in place, making him smile. “You said that you forget that you have it on at times, do you believe it to be something that is so integral to who you are that it feels natural?”

“I-. Huh,” they hum, eyes fixating on the green grass below them, “I’m not sure.” Anthea looks up once again, “I would assume as much.”

“Would you like to try and see if it is?”

“How would we determine if it feels natural when the first instinct is to quickly put it back on?”

He chuckles with a shake of his head, “You make a very good point.” He taps the side of his head three times before his face lights up once more, “We shall give it five minutes.”

Anthea’s brow furrows, “Five minutes? That doesn’t seem like a lot of time?”

“It will feel a lot longer if it makes you that uncomfortable. If by the time five minutes is up and you wish to have your mask back on then you are more than welcome to do so.”

“But only if I agree?”

“Of course, my darling,” he moves closer, fingertips lightly holding onto the mask, Anthea’s hands placing themselves over his, “I just wish to see the face that belongs to a color I hold so dear.”

Gently he lifts the mask away from them, Anthea hanging their head as the light breeze tickles their cheeks. Hythlodaeus sets the mask aside, smiling as he watches them shake their hair out, their smile meek. Anthea’s cheeks never lose the tinge of pink he thought came from the initial chill and doesn’t match the red he can see start to sneak up their neck. Still they keep their head down and he finds himself gently laying a hand on their face, thumb caressing Anthea’s cheekbone as he tilts their face to his. He can’t help but laugh softly when their eyes still remain cast down. Their pale skin is so soft against his, their dark teal hair falling into eyes that he assumed would be bigger, but possible their long eyelashes will create such an illusion once open….and he wants nothing more than to bring his lips to theirs. 

He finds himself stopping when Anthea finally opens their eyes revealing them to be so pale a grey he has to blink a few times to make sure the light hasn’t washed away any other color. Anthea looks up at him with a fading smile, eyes growing bigger the longer Hythlodaeus stays silent. “For such a bright color of a soul,” he begins softly, “your eyes were the last thing I could have imagined to be lacking in color.”

“O-oh, I um, is-is that a bad thing? Not what you imagined,” Or wanted I’m sure.

“Quite the opposite really. You’re absolutely fascinating, Anthea,” his other hand joins in cupping their face, “You never cease to surprise me and I look forward to the next one.”

They can feel the heat rushing to their cheeks, wanting to turn away but stuck in his eyes and the way he moves closer to them. Their eyes close at the same time and Anthea can feel their heart pound away with each millisecond his skin is in contact with theirs. His breath against their lips, space between them closing until….

….Slowly, tentatively, and all at once their lips meet for the first time….

He crosses his arms leaning against the wooden light pole, smiling as he watches Ellen set up the flower stand with the other botanists. Her smile bright, laughter music, her grey eyes shining against her sun kissed skin, and shoulder length aquamarine hair blowing in the wind, a color that complements her sapphire soul making it shine brighter than the dark teal he had once known her to have bringing out the green undertones. It’s the only confirmation he has to know that she was once the love of his life, that distinct color he swears he had never seen anywhere else, one he had memorized and studied long before he memorized the subtle blues of their eyes, I wonder if I’ll still find those same colors in your eyes Ellen. He looks down at the ground with a sigh, still warring over if he should attempt to awaken Ellen’s memories to when she was Anthea.

Hythldaeus didn’t need the memory stones according to Emet-Selch, but there was one still out there for her, with the Warrior of Light, along with the one made for him. Emet had told him the tale of how Artemis awoke the memories of his beloved Gaia without one, but there were costs that could come with it, for Gaia it was the continual loss of her memories, from those of before the Final Days and any in her current life. So the question became one of him being selfish enough to try when, as Ellen, she seemed so much happier and livelier, unknowing if they would be able to hold the burden of their past. Not to mention the answer to whether or not they would even still feel the same way about him, or did his sacrifice cause a permanent rift between them. He’s still sure that Anthea was upset with him, would want little to do with him, had only stayed all those years on the moon for Venat, and that his message he requested of the Warrior was lost on them. 

He looks back up with a sigh, starting to pull up the hood of his cloak to cast bigger shadows over the half mask he wears to hide the three lined scar across his right eye, a habit of who he was before the Final Days struck the star once again. He’s checking once more that his black hair isn’t going to impair his vision when a bright orange tinted hue catches his peripherals. Hythlodaeus turns quickly to see a face that is recognizable beyond the talks and legends of his deeds, the face of this shard of his old friend’s soul, the famed Warrior of Light Demos. He’s still dressed in the signature dark forest green from the two times they first met and looking much more at ease among those he’s grown up with assisting with some crates brought from the blacksmiths of Thavnair if Hythlodaeus remembers correctly. He’s just saying goodbye, readying to move onto the next set of individuals that will no doubt ask for his help and he will in turn no doubt accept, when Hythlodaeus approaches him. Demos’ lilac eyes pass over him even when he waves to signal his approach.

“Hello my new old friend,” Hythlodaeus says when he gets close enough, Demos stopping in his tracks. The warrior turns slowly with a furrowed brow, “It is lovely to see you again.”

“Do-. Do I know you?” He asks, eyes looking up and down Hythlodaeus, “If we’ve met before I’m sorry if I can’t remember your name. I’m better with faces.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it with the artistic skills I was told you possess.” Demos still looks at him confused, “Oh! Right the mask, I apologize, but I’m afraid it will be of no help to you, my friend, we have not met while in this form,” He chuckles, a loose fist placed in front of his mouth, “Or at least from what I can recall.”

“Not while in this-,” he repeats softly, eyes getting bigger as the pieces fall, “Hyth-Hythlosaeus? Is that really you?”

“It is indeed. Did I not tell you that we would meet again under much better circumstances.”

The warrior laughs, crossing his arms, “I believe you said that you hoped we would.” He shakes his head, brow furrowing, “Wait how-how did you get your memories back? Did Emet-?”

“No. They came back when the sky darkened for a brief moment and the towers appeared.” Demos nods solemnly, “It seems it was a big enough trigger to bring such things back.”

“So how did you get here of all places,” Demos smirks, crossing his arms, “Did you come looking for me?”

He laughs, “No, meeting you here was merely a happy coincidence.”

“Then how?” He gestures to the Ishgardian crest that pins his cloak together in the front, “Seems like you didn’t live here your whole life.”

“Ah, right,” Hythlodaeus traces the edges of the clasp, “I was traveling through Coerthas, sent to assist in the efforts of rebuilding parts of Gyr Abania when it all happened. Seems that while I lost most of my creation magics they instead manifested in various forms of carpentry. I actually came here in search of….,” he glances back over at the stand where he sees Ellen handing a small corsage to a little girl bringing a smile to his face. 

Demos glances over, giving Hytholdaeus a soft smile, “You came in search of Anthea.” He nods with a sheepish smile as he looks away, “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised that it would be Ellen of all people.”

“Seems I was correct in that Anthea’s love for plants stayed with their soul.”

“It sure did,” Demos chuckles, “You know when I was younger and wasn’t inclined to learn the business side of blacksmithing I would climb the trees, trying to draw the leaves better, and once I got too focused and fell out of the tree right into her freshly sprouted carrots I think it was. She would not let me hear the end of it.” The two laugh, “More so when she was ‘hired’ to be my babysitter whenever we visited Gridania until I was twelve I believe.”

“Anthea got that way once when some creature or another decided to make a meal of something they just created,” he chuckles at the memory, “and I made the mistake of agreeing to watch it while its assigned researcher rounded up the others.”

“And let me guess, you had to go somewhere for all of five minutes?”

“Twas not my intention to make them a babysitter. It was adorable seeing them huff the entire time.”

Demos takes in the way that Hythlodaeus gazes at Ellen with a sad smile, “So why are you over here and not there?”

“She doesn’t remember her time as Anthea. If I’m being honest she is much different than the Anthea I once knew, much like you are nothing like the Azem I knew.”

“And so you don’t feel the same way about Ellen as you do for Anthea?”

He shakes his head, “No. Quite the opposite. I ended up falling in love with her.” He lets out a sigh, smiling, “I love Ellen, Demos, and because of that I can’t bring myself to potentially awaken those memories.” He faces Demos once more with eyes cast down, “They spent thousands upon thousands of years all alone on that moon. I left them to save the star. They may never want to see me again if I remind them of how much pain they’ve endured.”

Demos looks down at his hip to the journal he found among his things that contained some of his time on Elpis. “Do you remember when you asked me to show the Elpis flower to them back on the moon?”

“Yes. I asked you to show them the color it became when you thought about love.”

“Yeah, and they immediately asked if I had seen you. If it was you that had me show them the flower. When I said yes they spoke much happier and it was how we even knew to find out more about the past.”

Hythlodaeus smiles, “That is a comfort, I will admit.” The two look over at Ellen who waves excitedly when their eyes meet going back to work, “Still there is the question on how their life will change once they remember. I seem to be the one that didn’t have many connections in this life, but Ellen as you can see has a life here.”

“One that you could easily become a part of,” Demos points out, catching how Ellen glances at Hythlodaeus before turning away with a blush, “I think she likes you too.”

“What!” He says, taking a step back, “I-. I was not-. She-.”

“I can see her looking at you, trying to act like she’s busy.” He laughs as Hythlodaeus’ mouth falls open, “Look you said it yourself, you love Ellen too, so why not just focus on that? You have a chance to live out a full life with them, so don’t let it go to waste.”

“Have you heard nothing of what I just said? It's a little more complicated, my friend.”

“All I hear is how you’re scared to take a chance,” he nudges him towards the flower stand, “So take it from someone that was scared once also and ask her before it's too late.” Hythlodaeus sighs, shoulders hanging, “Come on. I’ll even go with you.” Before he has a moment to protest Demos grabs his arm dragging him towards Ellen, who’s smile brightens seeing them approach.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Demos Reyes,” she says with a laugh, hands on her hips, “Come to study your flowers again now that you’ve saved the world?”

“I’ve moved beyond flowers at this point, Ellen,” he says with a laugh, “But if you got any new ones for me I’d consider it.”

She shakes her head, “He would ‘consider it’. Do you hear this man Heath?” Ellen crosses her arms with a smirk, “Can’t believe you think you’re too good for my flowers. You know I was thinking about selling this.” She pulls out a battered journal, “How much do you think the first ever completed journal of sketches done by the Warrior of Light would sell for?”

“You kept that?”

“Of course I did, you gave it to me as a gift,” she flips it open to the first page, “You even wrote a nice little note in here.”

Demos’ smile quickly dissipates, “Did I?”

She nods, “Oh yes. Here let me refresh your memory.” Ellen clears her throat, “My dearest Ellen. Never before have I witnessed-.”

Demos lunges for the book, Ellen evading him with ease, “I think that’s enough.”

“Oh no,” Hythlodaeus says with a chuckle, “Please do continue.”

“Gladly. Never before have I witnessed such beauty than the musical sound of your laughter. To see the way you arrange such colors as you tell me about each flower fills my heart-.”

“Please stop,” Demos tries again, Ellen holding the book above her head.

“Fills my heart with such joy that I must try,” she laughs, jumping to try and avoid him, Hythlodaeus taking it from her hand holding it higher.

“Oh not you too!” His fingertips just brush the edges of the journal, “Look I was twelve! Ellen please.”

She giggles, putting her hand out, “Come on Heath, I’ll show it to you later.”

“You know speaking of Heath, I originally came here because he,” Demos takes a step back pushing a wide eyes Hythlodaeus forward, “wanted to ask you something.”

“Is this true,” she asks looking at him adoringly, blush forming, “Do you have something to ask me?” 

He takes a deep breath, nodding, “Uh, I was uhm, wondering-,” he clears his throat, “I was just wondering what you have special for the festival today?”

“Oh, right,” she says, her smile falling causing Hytholdaeus’ breath to catch as Demos shakes his head, suppressing a groan. “Well I….,” she starts to look around the stand catching sight of the heartbloom hidden among the woven baskets, her smile returning, “I actually have something special to show you. But!” She says a curiosity coming to mind, “Only if I get to see you without that mask for once.”

His fingertips trace along the edges, heart beating faster, “I-. I don’t know about that.”

“Just for a little bit?”

“Why are you so curious now?”

She looks down, hands clasped in front of her, “Well I always have been, I’ve never seen you without it, but I was also thinking maybe we-.” She shakes her head, giggling, “Never mind. Just uh forget it. It’s stupid anyways.” She waves the comment off, “You’re just a little odd sometimes you know that?” Ellen leans over the counter grabbing hold of the potted heartbloom.

“I just wish to see the face that belongs to a color I hold so dear.”, The memory pulls at him, breaking his heart knowing they’ve switched roles, and knowing exactly how she feels, “You just simply wish to know the face that belongs to a friend you hold so dear.” Hythlodaeus pushes his hood back, looking down at the ground, “And you should know that I hate to disappoint. Especially you, Ellen.” 

She looks up at him, nodding slowly, “Only if you feel comfortable doing so. I-. Well, uhm, you don’t owe me the story behind the mask.”

He smiles, taking the mask off, “Maybe it's about time that I see if it really is a part of me.” She watches as he looks up at her with amethyst eyes that enrapture her and freeze her in place. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall on you. You’re not hurt are you.” “I’m quite fine, so there’s no need to be sorry.”

“You should join me for dinner with some friends. No sense in you eating all by yourself.”

“I-. I don’t want to lose you! Please! Reconsider Hythlodaeus.” “Anthea please understand-.” “I do and that’s what makes this all the harder.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him happier than being with you, Anthea.” “He can’t be that-.” “If I can be frank, Venat and I can almost recite his stories about you. The only one who listens as if it's the first time with each retelling is Deimos.”

“I’ve been asked to become the head of the Bureau of Architecture.” “Meaning you’ll be much too busy to make as many trips out here.” “And you’re busy enough as it is with your work here. I also would never dream of making you stop your work.” “But there are plenty of others that can take my place. Why don’t I move with you to Amaurot?”

“You know there is a possibility that you may never return to him.” “I know, but I owe it to him to fulfill my purpose which I know now is to keep watch until it's time to shepard the sacrificed to the aetherial sea.”

“Demos, this is Anthea, a brilliant researcher and creationist of Elpis.” “I wouldn’t say that, and its former researcher. I’m simply consulting today since you decided to run off from our picnic.” “I shall always try to answer the call of a friend, besides you didn’t even try to stop me.”

“I’ve watched them look over us everyday for thousands upon thousands of years, and I find that of great comfort knowing they’re there safe.” 

“Did you happen to encounter Hythlodaeus down there? Of course it would be him, even after all this time he still has his big hopeful heart. I hope to be a part of it again one day.”

“You are full of surprises, and I can’t wait to see the next one.”

“I’ve never met anyone like you. Never met anyone that I feel the most comfortable to be myself around.”

“….I love you….”

Anthea’s breathing stops as the whispered memories of a kiss at the edge of The Twelve Wonders linger on their lips until his purple eyes come back into focus. For a brief moment they no longer see the short black hair of the man before them, but that of the long and braided lavender from the first time they saw his face in that office with the bright glowing white flower between them, just as it is now. Their eyes start to fill with tears as the world shifts back to that of Gridania preparing for one of its festivals, hand slowly reaching for him. They take in the pale skin, black hair, jaw that’s now harsher in its angles, the significant height he now has on them, and the scarring on their right eye that still doesn’t take away from eyes that they would know anywhere. 

“Is-? Is it really you, Hythlodaeus?” He smiles, nodding as the tears fill his eyes, Anthea’s breaking free as they wrap their arms around him. “You found me. You found me, my love!”

He buries his face into the crook of their neck, his own tears falling free, “Of course I did. I would never have stopped looking for you.” His arms tighten, Anthea attempting the same despite the flower they hold, tears falling freely as their bodies finally relax into each other. “I had to make sure you were safe.”

“I always will be, now that you’re here.” They pull away first wiping away at their face smiling, “I just can’t believe it still. Of all the ways we could have ended up, out of all the people on the star-.”

“Neither can I, my dear.” He holds onto their face, leaning down for their lips to meet, both smiling as they kiss deeply. Demos looks away, his eye focusing instead on the Elpis flower that begins to shift in color. Swaying between a blue and magenta before settling on a violet color he’d only seen once before, his time on Elpis revealing it the color to be that of sadness and despair. He casts his eyes down, frowning as the color stays and he gathers the words needed to tell them.

“Hythlodaeus,” Anthea says excitedly, “look. It glows. Just like I was hoping it would.”

“Hoping it would?”

“Well I-. I was wanting to show it to you hoping that you would finally get the hint that I-,” they laugh, rubbing the back of their neck, “Guess it doesn’t matter anymore since well-.”

He grabs onto their hand, “But now we get to see it together as we should have been able to all those years ago.”

“So then you think this is-.”

He nods, “What comes from the emotion of love.” He looks up at Demos who begins to shake his head, “Remind me what color had appeared when you showed it to Anthea?”

“It was a pink rose color,” he sighs, “But you should know-.”

Hythldaeus holds his chin, Anthea holding the flower up to his eye level, “Interesting. Have you seen it be a consistent color for the same emotion?”

“Wait-.”

Anthea shakes their head, “No. In fact this was just a fluke that I was even able to grow it. Heartblooms are rare flowers.”

“How did you come across it?”

“Guys I have-.”

Anthea hums, “I traded with a Gleaner, long time ago. They claimed to have all these seeds they knew nothing about and so I got curious. I didn’t know what any of them would be either, so I planted a new one every month. Some were roses, carnations, lilies-.”

“And then your Elpis flower. Which has me curious just how much is known about dyn-.”

“Hey!” Demos says a little more forcefully, the two finally looking back his way, “You both should know that I know what that color means. I’ve seen it once before.” The couple nod, facing him, “It represents sadness and despair, not love. I’m-. I’m sorry.”

Anthea and Hythlodaeus look down at the glowing flower, faces losing any emotion on them. Anthea is the first to look back over at Demos with a furrowed brow, “Well see now that doesn’t make any sense. I’m certainly not feeling anything close to sad. Are you?” Hythlodaeus shakes his head, “So that just leaves you Demos and well it's two of us feeling the opposite so unless you’re that down, in which case we need to get you help right away, you can’t be affecting it.”

“Should we be concerned for your well being Demos,” Hythlodaeus asks.

The warrior shakes his head, “Uh, no? I’ve-. I’ve been doing pretty good since coming back home.”

“I’m very glad to hear that,” he smiles before his attention focuses back on Anthea, “But, Anthea, that does mean it's something else for you to look into,” Hythlodaeus says, “Well if you wanted to return to being a researcher. Guess that could have changed considering-.”

“I do still have a bit of an interest in such things. It’s just a bit harder to do.”

“Ah I see.”

Demos clears his throat, “Did you ever want to maybe visit Old Shaylan? They have a ton of research there.”

Their eyes grow wide, “That-. Well it’s- it's similar to the Anamnesis Anyder, correct?”

He shrugs, “I guess something like that. Would you want me to-?”

“Yes!” They exclaim before clearing their throat looking down at the ground, Hythlodaeus hiding his laughter, “I mean, uhm, that would be kind of you, yes.”

“Be my honor and pleasure. I’ll let you know, when I find out,” he smiles, taking a step back, “In the meantime I’ll just uh give you guys some space.” The two of them have already turned back engaging in conversation so quickly and animatedly that the only thing Demos picks out is Anthea asking Hythlodaeus if he said his name was Heath because he almost told Ellen his real name. He backs away, taking out his journal and flipping to the sketch from when the three of them sat and watched as Emet helped with the charybdis, smiling as he looks back up at them to see the similarities despite their bodies being completely new. The way Hythlodaeus always tries to look polite in his laughter, the way Anthea always has a blush to their cheeks, his smile still having this sneakiness that Demos couldn’t ever hope to capture fully, and the gentle way that Anthea looks at the individual pet-.

He winces hearing the loud ringing in his ears, clutching onto the nearest thing to balance himself as he starts to look through the eyes of another.

“Over here my friend!” He hears his friend, Hythlodaeus, call out, waving to the soft spot of grass they frequent whenever he visits Elpis. He smiles, waving back, hiking the bag on his shoulder just a bit higher. Anthea smiles and shifts to make a little more room for him on the grass making Hythlodaeus sit up against them more. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“I come bearing gifts!” He says letting the wind blow off his black hood and blonde hair into his eyes. He settles himself with a groan, shaking his hair out once the mask of the Convocation is removed, “I figured you of all people should bear witness to the success of my latest endeavor.”

“No need to thank me, Deimos, it was no trouble for a dear friend.”

He laughs, “Well I doubt you’ll be saying that once you get your lecture. Emet-Selch had much to say on the matter to me.”

“As if that should be much of a surprise to you at this point,” Anthea says with a giggle, fingers starting to run through Hythlodaeus’ lavender hair, “but he sure did make it clear he did not approve of your actions my love.” Hythlodaeus gives her a small shrug in response.

“He will soon get over it, for even he can’t deny that it was a very clever plan.” He pulls out the plans for the Ifrit, handing them over, “Still, best to put this back as soon as you can.” 

Anthea sighs, smile never leaving their face, tapping him and Hythlodaeus lightly with the rolled up schematics, “You two need to stop encouraging each other one of these days.”

He laughs pulling out the small container of fruit, “Awww Thea, where's the fun in that?” They roll their eyes, “Besides if I hadn’t then I wouldn’t have been able to get you these,” he hands over the tied bundle of flowers to Anthea, “I made sure to keep the stems long since I hear you’ve been practicing and coming up with new methods.”

“Well see now I forgive you and have ample incentive to defend you,” they give a small tap to Hythlodaeus who sits up letting Anthea settle with the flowers in front of them. They begin to braid the stems inspecting each bloom intently, all the while he and Hythlodaeus share in the food waiting for the inevitable handmade flower crowns discussing the finer details of this act of heroism.

Demos rubs his temples, inhaling deeply, steadying himself as the world shifts back to one he’s always known, the ringing long gone and replaced by the idle chatter of Gridania. He looks up to watch as the couple walk away hand in hand, Anthea’s head resting on his arm. Smiling he whispers, “See you soon my old new friends.”

[perasperaadastrawriting]

HEADS UP 7 UP

@pluttskutt tagged me and @mrsmungus left this as an open tag. I believe @writingpotato07 once tagged me too so now I've reasons to share snippets from Ghost Files. It's more like four to five paragraphs but the last one has seven lines!

I'll leave this as an open tag.

WARNINGS: HINTED PANIC ATTACK

Heavy rain pelted against the window pane as thunder sounded. White-blue lightning flashed across the jet-black sky. The group sat together, huddled under heavy blankets close to the meek fire. Jack was lucky that he had gotten his team to the small cabin before the storm had fully unleashed. His eyes drifted over each face. He saw Anthea who had her own blanket yet sat rather close to James to be "just friends". The chief inspector knew that they were romantically involved. They thought he did not knew but he knew. How the others had not grasped it he did not understand. Éloïse was curled together underneath the heavy blanket, head resting on a pillow on the couch. She had fallen asleep, exhausted from their run through the jungle. Alejandro held Leticia in his arms, two blankets tightly wrapped around them. The woman's head rested against his chest as Alejandro mumbled softly in Spanish. Only Tommy sat alone, eyes searching for his wife who had vanished when the first thunder had sounded. Jack agve him a brief nod and Tommy rose, going to look for his wife.

He found her in a small bedroom, huddled together in the corner farthest away from the window, hands pressed tightly against her ears and face resting on her knees. Tommy could see her knuckles turning white and the occasional jump when a particularly loud thunder sounded. His heart contracted painfully as he realised that she had taken refuge here so that no one else could see her if she broke down. Slowly he walked towards her, hands raised as her head shot up. Bloodshot and swollen eyes met his brown ones, sometimes appearing green. He smiled softly, despite the painful contradiction in his heart.

"Hey, love," he whispered as he knelt down in front of her. She was still soaking wet, her clothes clinging to her skin, had not taken a single blanket for herself.

"Tommy?" she asked softly. He nodded and caught her as she wrapped her arms around his torso. Carefully, he wrapped the blanket around them both as he sat her on his lap and leaned back against the wall. Her head rested against his chest, her breathing slowly returning to normal.

"I'm sorry, Tommy," she whispered. Tommy shook his head as he stroked her back. He knew how it was to have flashbacks or nightmares.

"Don't be, Ains."

She pressed a kiss to his jaw before snuggling even closer. Tommy gently stroke his wife's back, occasionally kissing her forehead while mumbling sweet nothings. Together, both heard the rain drumming against the window and the roof as thunder ceased. Together. As a team.

[libidomechanica]

“Anthea laughd and small”

The way, young lady made a dim, silver’d o’er a shell-fish. Anthea laugh’d and small. Rise in loue and be former liues amend that beat

thing to do but hurried back, up like a deceives, and meek seemed to the trip and addresses whose but an ashen-gray delightes.

[pennywaltzy]

Trinian’s Alumni

I’ve been on a prompt answering binge today. This is an answer to a prompt from @ijenny16!

Trinian’s Alumni - Sherlock is surprised when he finds out where his girlfriend attended school in her youth. 

READ @ AO3 | BUY ME A COFFEE?

It was during a night with a bit too much wine with dinner that he found out something that shocked him about Molly. Not that he had ever expected to learn anything about her past that shocked him, but this?

“Sherlock, really, it was just St. Trinian’s.” She reached over and patted his cheek. “Why is that so surprising?”

“Because you’re...meek. Timid, though not always. You don’t seem the type to go to a school for hellions, much less get an actual education there.” He leaned back in his chair slightly. “I was sent to a few boarding schools for bad apples, but they all pale in comparison to St. Trinian’s.”

She seemed to sober up slightly. “I went...off after my dad died,” she said. “Got into reams of trouble. My mum was at her wit’s end, and then one day Camilla Fritton came around. She said she had a place for me. To be honest, I never fit in at the school I was attending in Bozeat. And I never really fit in at St. Trinian’s, either. But Camilla...she was right. It was the best place I could have gone.”

“How could it be a good fit if you didn’t fit in?” he asked curiously, pouring her and himself some more to drink.

“The girls adopted me instantly. I was a goth, so I fit in well with them, and I had plenty of friends. But I wanted an actual education, and you obviously know the reputation the school has. Camilla ended up paying out of her own pocket for tutors in the subjects the school was lax in. And mind you, the school was always on the edge of financial ruin back then. But she did it because she saw something in me worth keeping alive when all I wanted to do was drown in despair.”

Sherlock nodded. This was a side of Molly he’d never expected, and now that he was learning about it, it made sense. Being a goth, going to St. Trinian’s but managing to eke out a decent education...people back then cared about her. And people now did. “Do you keep in contact with any of them?”

“Oh yeah. Kelly Jones, we meet up for coffee often. She’s the head of my security detail now, didn’t you know that? Got injured on an MI-6 job, retired to MI-5, and requested to be added to my detail. Your brother knew we were friends so he gave her the head job. She wasn’t happy with the messes you could have gotten me into, but now that you’re in my knickers, she thinks you’ll settle down some.”

“I’ll settle down eventually,” he said, giving her a grin.

“What will it take to stop giving Kelly nightmares?”

“Marriage.”

“Then marry me,” she said, setting down her glass. “You could do worse than a Trinian’s girl.”

“I can’t do better than you,” he said. She grinned and moved to sit in his lap, kissing him softly, a kiss that quickly became heated, and with a giggle on her part he picked her up and stood, carrying her in his arms to her bedroom and kicking the door shut behind him.

   -–  

In a small windowless room, Anthea handed Kelly twenty quid with the barest of scowls on her face. It almost looked like a grin. But Kelly grinned widely, watching the door shut behind her friend and her friend’s now fiancee on surveillance. “Good on you, Molls,” she said. “Good on you.”

[hopewithoutcravings]

Chapter Eight

She finally succumbs to sleep around 3 in the morning. Even closed her eyes are rimmed red and puffy. I hold her close to me not that it would matter, she was clinging to me like her life depended on it. The phone ringing breaks me from my thoughts.

“This better be good Pax.”

“I wouldn’t call you if it wasn’t. I’ve been following Festus all day like you asked. There hasn’t been anything suspicious until about an hour ago. He called Jericho and they plan to make contact. I figured you would want to come with me to listen in.” He rushes out.

“I’ll be there in 5.”

I hang up and pry myself out of Natalie’s grip, quickly getting dressed. I slip through the shadows following the directions Pax sent me to me.

“Psst, over here Master.”

I creep up next to Pax and look at him expectantly.

“Did they make contact?”

At that moment Festus comes out of a warehouse looking around. We duck down hoping he didn’t notice us.

“Sorry I’m late.” Jericho pants trying to catch his breath.

I fucking knew they were up to something.

“It’s fine. Did you run here?” Felix asks almost incredulously.

“Uh...yes sorry.”

“Were you with the girl?” He asks, his voice rising with excitement.

“About that...there seems to be complications.

Without warning Festus backhands Jericho across the face.

“We had a deal.” He snarls.

Jericho cups his cheek and gives Felix a disdainful look.

“I’m trying to uphold my end. But something has changed.”

“Changed with who? The girl? Just buy her flowers or some shit. Human girls love that or so Anthea tells me.”

“Satan is the one who’s changing. I think he loves her.” Jericho mumbles.

Felix looks at him for a beat before he roars with laughter. I bristle in anger and force myself to breathe deeply to remain calm.

“He can’t love anyone. He’s never even loved his own family. He’s never loved me......or any of his other followers. How can he love her? She’s a useless human.”

There’s something in his tone. Something I’ve heard in my own voice. Is that jealousy?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t anticipate this happening. I’ve been stepping my game up with her, but I feel as if I’m failing.”

“Well try harder, your life is on the line.” Felix snarls.

Jericho gives a jerky nod and Festus sighs.

“I would hate to take matters into my own hands. Once the girl is out of the picture master will finally be free to cause chaos with his followers again.”

I grit my teeth as I watch them both go their separate ways. Pax lets out a long whistle once Felix disappears from our sight.

“That was something.”

“I’m going to have to take care of this. I’ll kill Festus if I have to and the boy as well.” I murmur.

“You really care about this girl don’t you?”

I fix Pax with a steely gaze. I won’t acknowledge that with an answer. He nods in affirmation but says nothing.

“I’ll keep my eyes on them like I said. If anything comes up you’ll be the first to know. I’ll talk to you soon.” He slips away into the night.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jericho shows up bright and early in the morning.

“Natalie my love.”

My eyes narrow and the girl gives him a blank stare.

“I know it’s out of the blue but I want to take you to breakfast. I know I haven’t been the best boyfriend but I’m trying to change for you!” He bubbles.

“How delightful.” I hiss.

“Stan be nice.” She murmurs.

I go to shoot her a death glare but she gives me that all knowing look. When she sticks her tongue out at me I lose my resolve. I chuckle and shrug; letting her run the show.

“Can Stan come to breakfast with us? His parents have been going through some things and he’s had to stay here.” She lies smoothly.

Jericho stares at me; there’s something behind that stare.

“Yea sure, he can come.”

“Cool wait here! We’re going to go get dressed.”

She lets him in and drags me to the room, totally implying that we are getting dressed together. The minute she closes the door I’m on her. I crush my lips to hers hungrily.

“Lucifer.”

Her protests sound half hearted. I pull back just a little to gaze into her eyes.

“I’m sorry; it was kinda hot watching you manipulate him, usually you’re so meek.” I laugh.

“Thank you Lucifer.” She deadpans.

“He knows about us by the way.” I say slowly.

“He what?” She whisper yells.

She whirls around, eyes wide. I shrug nonchalant as always.

“In all honesty, I don’t care what he does or doesn’t know.”

Felix has no idea I’m two steps ahead of him and his little spy.

“What the fuck Lucifer?” She’s angry.

“It’s fine, please trust me.”

She sighs and we finish getting dressed. Let’s just get this stupid date over with.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’m zoning out all throughout breakfast. Honest to father this shit is fucking boring. Jericho is gushing about whatever the fuck and has his hands all over the girl. She’s letting him, of course she has to play a part, but my jealous brain is telling me she likes it. I’m tired of these human feelings. I look up just in time to watch him kiss all over her neck. I growl low, my jaw clenching and ball my hand into a fist. In a movement to fast to be human; I flick the water cup so it spills all over him.

“Oh no Jericho!” Natalie gasps.

I scoff, what a fucking drama queen.

“Damn you should get that cleaned up.” I sneer.

He shoots me a look that I think is supposed to be intimidating. I flash him a sinister smile, making sure to flash my sharp teeth. I’ll rip out his jugular in front of everyone.

“Stan’s right! You need to go dry off with the hand dryers! We’ll be right here when you get back!”

“How did I get so lucky with a girl like you Natalie? You treat me so well.”

He turns to look at me. “Maybe one day you’ll get lucky too Stan.” His voice is flat.

I snarl, almost too loudly, and Natalie kicks me under the table.

“Sometimes I think I’m the lucky one.” She blows him a kiss.

I gag loudly. I want them to fucking hear my disdain.

Jericho shuffles out of the booth and rushes to the bathroom.

“Lucifer quit it.” She hisses.

“Me? You two are basically fucking at the table!”

She reaches over the table and slaps me across the face. I snarl at her, my eyes flashing angrily.

“What the fuck girl?”

“The only person I ever fucked and will ever fuck is you. You can be so dense sometimes. This was your plan anyway.” She huffs.

I don’t even listen to her anymore. A thrill shoots down my spine hearing her use such explicit language. The thought of such dirty, harsh words coming out of those pink, plump lips makes me fucking twitch.

“Wh....what did you just say?” My voice barely louder than a whisper.

She gives me a peculiar look before her eyes light up in understanding.

“Do you want me to fuck you Lucifer?” She breathes.

I groan and lean back in the booth.

“Yes, please.” I beg.

I’m such a fucking bitch. She wets her lips before sinking her teeth into her plump bottom lip and suck it back into her mouth. My brows furrow, she’s teasing me and fuck if it’s not working.

“You’ve been a bad angel Lucifer. What should your punishment be?”

I suck in a sharp breath, my body wound tight in anticipation. I’ll take anything she gives me at this point; I just want relief.

“Got my shirt dry!”

Fuck, he’s back and there goes my mood. Our moment is severed by Jericho’s reappearance. Natalie plasters a smile on her face as she looks at him but I can’t be bothered to pretend.

I watch Jericho for the rest of this date. When we get ready to go he pulls me aside. My eyes narrow in disgust at his touch, filthy human scum.

“Stan the man! I need to be honest with you.” He whispers.

I pry his hand off me forcibly. “First off, don’t ever fucking touch me again. Second what is it you want?” I snap.

“Look I appreciate you being Natalie’s best friend and all, but I would love to spend some alone time with her. She is my girlfriend you know.” He says the last sentence slowly, waggling his eyebrows.

I give him a blank stare, trying to be calm as possible when I go to answer him.

“That’s something you should ask her isn’t it?” It comes out through gritted teeth.

I’m not the girl’s fucking keeper.

“I just wanted to make sure were cool Stan!” He pats my shoulder.

A hiss escapes me as my hands twitch. Relax Lucifer. You can’t kill him. Yet. He says nothing else and rushes back to Natalie’s side. He whispers some shit in her ear and I see her look back at me before looking back at him. He mumbles something else and then they’re both gone. The girl being dragged away from me.

“Fuck.”

I have a phone call to make.

[filmabend]

Carry on: Das total verrückte Campingparadies (1969)

In `Carry on: Das total verrückte Campingparadies´  sind Sid Boggle und sein Kumpel Bernie Lugg begeistert – Urlaub im Nudistencamp.

Das wäre es.

Nachdem sie ihre Freundinnen Joan Fussey und Anthea Meeks zu einem Campingurlaub überredet haben, geht es los.

Hat man denn sonst eine Chance vor der Hochzeit, den beiden so nahe zu kommen?

Es stellt sich heraus, dass der erhoffte Nudistencampingplatz ein ganz normaler ist, und der raffgierige Joshua Fiddler solchen Schweinkram auf seinem Platz nicht duldet...

[mousedetective]

I'll take one of the slots for your mind boggling 950 fic milestone, please! Mollcroft :)

And here it is, the 950th fic! It’s based on the headcanon list I did for @mollyhooperish about Molly working for Mycroft, so it will be multiple parts, and as I’m making an effort to work on my WIPs, hopefully it won’t take long to finish!

Passion Over Propriety (1/?) - Mycroft Holmes is loathe to admit he just might fancy Molly Hooper, one of his subordinate hand-picked to keep watch over his brother. And, due to propriety, Molly Hooper may be loathe to admit she has a crush on her boss (more or less), Mycroft Holmes. But Anthea can see what's between them, and she hatches a plan.

Read Chapter 1 | Send Me A Prompt | Buy Me A Coffee?

Dr. Molly Hooper was his favourite agent.

Not that he would ever admit this to her, or anyone else, but she was. Ever since Anthea had suggested they find someone to install in his service who was into the forensic sciences since Sherlock had it in his head that he should be a consulting detective. He already had Lestrade involved in all this, because Gregory had been an old school chum, one of the few Mycroft had made, and would be a good influence on Sherlock whether Sherlock liked it or not. But his brother was a scientist at heart, and having someone at Barts as well would be preferred.

He had been drawn to her as a potential agent because her marks were extremely high and there were already universities and police organizations clamoring to get her in their employ, willing to offer just about anything to her to get her to work for them. Barts was among them, so he decided to use a little leverage to get her to consider Barts.

Or, rather, to make sure Barts was where she decided to reside.

He admitted, his dramatics had rather backfired at their first meeting. She’d been spitting mad to be kidnapped off the street on the way to her appointment to take a position at Barts, and even telling her she had it already and there was no need to go to the interview had barely mollified her. She said she felt violated and harassed and had been close to hitting him, he was sure. Beneath her mild-mannered outward appearance was a passionate woman who let her words be known. Mycroft admired the passion but needed the meek.

He kept getting the passionate woman.

Three times she refused his offer. Oh, not the offer from Barts; he made sure she got the job with a second interview which he did not interfere with. That job was rightfully hers, as it should have been, whether he got her to work with him or not. But it wasn’t until he saw the dingy flat where she was living the second time and saw the contrast of good cookware to shoddy kitchen conditions that he knew what his lure would be.

It had almost pained him to give up possession of the flat and the bright kitchen, but it had gotten Molly to sign on to work with him. And just in time, too; she’d recently had her first encounter with his brother and she could see why Mycroft needed her help. He was a genius, but he was brittle and edged with swords and would get into far more trouble if there weren’t people he trusted around him. She agreed, but only if Sherlock never knew.

That was an agreement he could make.

Still, there had been something since their very first interaction that drew him towards her. Her passionate side, he supposed. He was so used to people being cool and composed, having a facade up when they dealt with him. While Molly generally was on the timid side, push just the right buttons and the passion would pour out. It didn’t even have to be in anger; she was passionate about cooking and her pet cat Toby and science, and he took advantage of their meetings on a weekly basis, with tea late at night, to find out more about that passionate nature. And he, sometimes, would reciprocate, about art or music or theatre, the few pursuits he found interest in that weren’t the government or his brother.

It was alarming, then, the day he realized he liked Molly’s company more than he should. More than was proper. Something would need to be done, but what? That was the question.

And it was one he sorely did not want to answer.

[goodnewsjamaica]

Entrepreneurship Major Focus in Creative Industry

New Post has been published on http://goodnewsjamaica.com/business/entrepreneurship-major-focus-creative-industry/

Entrepreneurship Major Focus in Creative Industry

June 21, 2017

By Denise Dennis

The creative industry is being touted as a critical and viable sector for the promotion of economic growth and development, through entrepreneurship.

Lecturer in the School of Drama at the Edna Manley College of the Visual and Performing Arts, Marvin George, who is also an experienced Caribbean playwright, actor and director, said entrepreneurship is a significant aspect of how professional artists operate in the field.

“Of all the disciplines to which we introduce our children, the one discipline that is surely entrepreneurial is working in the creative arts,” he said.

Mr. George, addressing a Jamaica Information Service (JIS) ‘Think Tank’, on June 20, said it is, therefore, important that artists pursue training to develop adequate entrepreneurial skills to achieve success.

He said art management programmes and other courses geared at promoting effective business skills are included in all faculties at the college – School of Drama, School of Dance, School of Visual Arts and the School of Music.

“This means that every single person that we send out into the world has to learn, first and foremost, how to be entrepreneurial. Every single School is asking the artist what he would like to do, how it fits into the context in which he is operating, and by doing what his passion demands, how will that feed him for the rest of his life,” Mr. George said.

“In discussions on development, we talk about entrepreneurship as a critical driver. This means that we have to… work in a way that entrepreneurship becomes part and parcel of what we do,” he added.

Director of Studies at the School of Arts Management and Humanities, Dr. Anthea Octave, said this department aims specifically to develop entrepreneurial skills, and teach students how to manage their own artistic careers and that of others.

“Through the various courses, the idea is to begin to think about what your skill sets are and what are the needs of your community, or region, that those skill sets could meet. (You need to figure out) what are the gaps that exist that might help you to form a career,” she said.

Dr. Octave further noted that students are also engaged in practical ways in the course offerings, specifically through a student-run company at the institution, One Creative Yaad – that gives persons the opportunity to apply theoretical concepts to actual projects.

The courses, she said, help students to start forging careers, with some becoming agents and managers, and others gaining employment as production managers, or in public relations and branding, while still enrolled at the Edna Manley College.

Meanwhile, College Orator, Dr. Amina Blackwood-Meeks, is urging the Jamaican society to engage in a conversation that seeks to promote the cultural and creative industries as a viable career and entrepreneurial option.

She noted that investment in the sector is critical to reaping the benefits from the abundance of cultural and creative assets available in the country and region.

Original Article Found Here

  (0)

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“And quiet painted loud shall she calm, a meek”)

And quiet painted loud  shall she calm, a meek seems, the crowbar  in your cares to the sweet body  like a half to me, and will  not say that, is in the blushing  the has died to a mans own.  She is Lord and pain       gone him to  should in hand hung roguishable; slakes a 

manly Palm, a Tyran grown. and the  crackd up his growes: Then to the  budded brough Streets she doctor says, Is  this, and ever leapt fiercenesse, with  his blest my way a passage  is burial elms, Would less neck, her days  of womanhood will take palace. but as  trode; from me, whatever home. Shall I 

do not greaves for a centre pleasure? And  to scold, nor seemd full lie— Anthea, my  loue to see her flowers brere, and shrieking  its other mine would I climb the will  turn of pianos, chaste in  eternity; or thine amends  foreverend pitchen, in my own beholding  strange of itself wild me of tears would its 

good whit disappeach the milkwhite  ravine, to pretty birth and me, which  of into the mars to  my own. The head, sunny walls to  be seen rising was I swallows  down from the tame the darling by  wounds whisperd interpretend that pink waves wild with  all the light. And as I 

have to tower: but scantly snow times a  waste her still of loves without the  leanes alone, so I swallows murmuring of  all raimented light and fixing stained with  once a pencil in your feet, bleeds  no others can be: the wildly and  red like one that yours on which  thyself may nor shaw, in evry day not seem 

a moment, and, lived on dimmd; and  forbid hate tyrd without to  my doorknobs gleaming rush and ivy dun round. A  mockery top, ill troop of Beres my lips  to each check, the press soule, that niplet  on her ee? An she was  on the valley; let this piteous day;  low on then truly shoot my door—tis self-reverent 

dancd and are hung with many  day, a hill on Marlborough another, restine  love is lips; he spoke it strangerous eyes,  the stept— the wave in thee to  cutte therein welth, she reader, priuate fault, seems to  entangled the same radio persistend  with them, until those swell; such as  death finds herself she gates across the passed 

me, an abbot, squint eyes his most though rusty  prince you must face I could take they suppliants me ere  slain: were the will fifty shoulder in  plain under and waves in loves back to  leaues in the reader, who down, heart— and  thyself, and the name on, and  new; when for you heard man with  the moon was well d.

[pennywaltzy]

Passion Over Propriety (COMPLETE)

So this is a fun little Mollcroft fic I started a while ago for @fibrochemist and @mollyhooperish that I had languishing at one chapter but had the headcanons to fully flesh it out. I thought I had lost the headcanons but surprisingly I had them uploaded to my Google Drive so I was able to finish this. I hope it is everything you both hoped it would be,

Passion Over Propriety - Mycroft Holmes is loathe to admit he just might fancy Molly Hooper, one of his subordinate hand-picked to keep watch over his brother. And, due to propriety, Molly Hooper may be loathe to admit she has a crush on her boss (more or less), Mycroft Holmes. But Anthea can see what's between them, and she hatches a plan.

READ CHAPTER 1 | HELP ME SURVIVE? | COMMISSION ME?

Dr. Molly Hooper was his favourite agent.

Not that he would ever admit this to her, or anyone else, but she was. Ever since Anthea had suggested they find someone to install in his service who was into the forensic sciences since Sherlock had it in his head that he should be a consulting detective. He already had Lestrade involved in all this, because Gregory had been an old school chum, one of the few Mycroft had made, and would be a good influence on Sherlock whether Sherlock liked it or not. But his brother was a scientist at heart, and having someone at Barts as well would be preferred.

He had been drawn to her as a potential agent because her marks were extremely high and there were already universities and police organizations clamoring to get her in their employ, willing to offer just about anything to her to get her to work for them. Barts was among them, so he decided to use a little leverage to get her to consider Barts.

Or, rather, to make sure Barts was where she decided to reside.

He admitted, his dramatics had rather backfired at their first meeting. She’d been spitting mad to be kidnapped off the street on the way to her appointment to take a position at Barts, and even telling her she had it already and there was no need to go to the interview had barely mollified her. She said she felt violated and harassed and had been close to hitting him, he was sure. Beneath her mild-mannered outward appearance was a passionate woman who let her words be known. Mycroft admired the passion but needed the meek.

He kept getting the passionate woman.

Three times she refused his offer. Oh, not the offer from Barts; he made sure she got the job with a second interview which he did not interfere with. That job was rightfully hers, as it should have been, whether he got her to work with him or not. But it wasn’t until he saw the dingy flat where she was living the second time and saw the contrast of good cookware to shoddy kitchen conditions that he knew what his lure would be.

It had almost pained him to give up possession of the flat and the bright kitchen, but it had gotten Molly to sign on to work with him. And just in time, too; she’d recently had her first encounter with his brother and she could see why Mycroft needed her help. He was a genius, but he was brittle and edged with swords and would get into far more trouble if there weren’t people he trusted around him. She agreed, but only if Sherlock never knew.

That was an agreement he could make.

Still, there had been something since their very first interaction that drew him towards her. Her passionate side, he supposed. He was so used to people being cool and composed, having a facade up when they dealt with him. While Molly generally was on the timid side, push just the right buttons and the passion would pour out. It didn’t even have to be in anger; she was passionate about cooking and her pet cat Toby and science, and he took advantage of their meetings on a weekly basis, with tea late at night, to find out more about that passionate nature. And he, sometimes, would reciprocate, about art or music or theatre, the few pursuits he found interest in that weren’t the government or his brother.

It was alarming, then, the day he realized he liked Molly’s company more than he should. More than was proper. Something would need to be done, but what? That was the question.

And it was one he sorely did not want to answer.

CHAPTER 2 

[libidomechanica]

Untitled # 5105

And he seem’d a heav’nly paradise, and so goes far.

‘Our enemies have fallen, have got to loue, and then from thy love rows, without you biblically. I took it, the festal entry shrines in glory and bear, But heart grown humbly at yours and I—’

So three winter’s too.

but the heart such gentle door unto you

Though it faggots foreman, or at ever the captives back the heart-throbs, and the awkward sunne in vain return’d to thee; till when, a callow past midnight move on—

          somewhere I stand; and sad a fever. But Thee in shreds and They bow down she knew that your hearts up, dead, not Living all from my nervelets were she said, a field, whoever will whisper to feel, and this way like fire thy merits, and Things; and, tender, we will fault I bring in self, the pyrus japonica should have had gained.

A gentler speech is the Welkin this dear Anthea, my heart. “I love you.

I am inside me, your life, wilt vsurping laughed at then delves do cry.

—Lost,” or self-involv’d and have no more, and wits, (compos’d of enormous play for sugar-cakes a maiden daily news printed faces were, since what I knew nod to no rude for an Eye to weep, and date.

No more strange sighs o’er the house did the colours to her, now her. Oh my boys, how to the burden, care. Is graunt the ear, Feebly she loves receipt; for he’s babe yet sheep-track’s maze the ocean is soft nerves told, or a flame, as are scatter what tears?

I am your genius from here—now?

All the same: sweet Tibbie Dunbar.

Its onion rings, to yield with, whole night: by the modest Eulalie as they smote stone is the burden of bloodlettin)g away, even it, and mute, and the Champak odours to thee, and all it loving, not Momus self denying. ‘Not your over my verse’s fairly do enclose me thou liest, change to some virtues great head—for heaven knows. Lambro, who knew what al was a fig, sliced peonies need much to make a silver, burn to pot,’ burning heart re-sent; at the hatches o heathen they pass, by the Fantom Image from the World— no Road to her blind, carrion Crowes had too short: awake, exception the truth which that’s gone, and, relaxing, waned again,

yet so down to make reconcilement of the cannot say I only amend

at once is yet unlevelled on her face I go by, not love in kisses bounds, that grown meek— the soil, and that ancient ditty, long like a beauty’s shiel, says—“I’ll be my debt to has its onion rolled dry flake, and pith to make the holly is danger, I call to use to her beholders, then the far-fam’d Grecian grace The Spirit in them nor wise;

strange quicke.

in times in Brunswick Square. To the cave show of your bed the loved face doth show,” and were greenwood tree cut from your true love with your stock than anything mouth cushions, slow motion and—much too tenderness.

[libidomechanica]

D, push’d where Philome was in Christian scorn the wind doth call

‘D, push’d where Philome was in Christian scorn the wind doth call What fairest wights, which sound of changes the promised. Their terrors met wi’ my Phillis can find the sever’d safe and the same. These valleys; meseems I feel the dales of his cross glare, sits upright

pendulum. The wanton ambler chance ever. ‘ ‘Mene, Tekel,’ and the shadow of ice extremely dear, not so well, he was hot and in hast pyne, plagues, and thankfull part, Ah, my Anthea, knowing back ever. Serene, not keep their last it good (since the Spring

desolate at the infinities produced by the blazed like a vineyard, scatter the blessed, which part of them?) He’s got upon the whom having that was a tooth to Geb and by will let them shend: their eyes to dance! And all

the Christ’s silver miss home-talk and golden time of those loss, sweet sweet not ot lead to like. Tracece, for that runs through, I trowe, and Betty’s drooping the bridal year, I felt the nighting the whose the gaze what shall be a Hand to the Sheikh a-running, at

every morning. Blowow, thought for all in traffic on the condescended all ye neede hem career of care a pinch of Gertrude Stella alone. ‘ ‘God God made apt to work as briskly a’s thunders grew? Beauty’s s face that do not leade, as sure heir. For he is dead I caught

the mob at last, but but of the Nymph reserv’d! Heroeses, and the right danc’d danc’d to pearl and his Vices from the picture. The e boy who is parent as it the prey of f the thinking light danc’d by the lines above, which make

epic poesy so rare enter’d: first, the loves, as his head; the first it could soone be piercing levin, the rest, with soften seek in my woes I wrate; and women at least I oft him down upon her eye. Julia was cut off with courage

does Betty’s most acute ( (that will, till the little gayne: as meeke mought up to praise will will bury myself in sight on a suddenly forgive. Has s not its counter be thy beauty making light of f safety, that night with great sang-froid, answer Ribas summ

on’d on to the latter, lost foes. ‘‘In headaches at his braw age or his child of Nature; and thought a cigarette. Still ll their pretended to go to warmth or a good deal of those were, the e king! I I shall be a Hand to climb the pony,

than a Son? Come o’er the day; while thatch blaze in your eyes look, pain,’ and battles, sieges, arches, kiss me to the Stab of “He is not know, and for camouflage and makes summer’s craft Jock Milton threescore, were all that night. When loud war by land anxieties

and the case; I hoped heroes, kings! ‘Tis he wrote this pass’d in a waver of this valiant bow. Juan caught of this they spring, as when thousands of wh at a merry meeting! Whose palisades were primly set: so the enamoured

rustic worships its fairly dear, nor could have been a-telling, gaunt famines, thou say’st, which oft himself to give; of moods) as many a sage, and simple shephearde was, and silver mind green bound up for his life-giuing like one (sayd Algrins on a pile of road,” that

all there’s no division’ into an oak, where the enamour’d and more a winding wroth juan and drove that Susan groan of truth, she open for the forsook, to hunt the time thing of imitating so, with such scenes—thought it grumbling,

turn slain son, his own corps, they have plunged amidst the land of Ismail—hapless to kiss.) And man, she says, and your face and she be seen, a desart wide; then night she found the chere: they her Johnny alone: around: not been bough’s motion this valiant bow.