#hath peck

[brabblesblog]

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Ch 5: What hath night to do with sleep?

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.

Moonlit conversations, nightmares, and revelations - it all could go very wrong, or so wonderfully right.

Professionally edited and collaborated on by my dearest friend <3 @editing-by-night

Read on AO3.

Masterlist

Commission from Emy San

Astarion’s trance was broken by the movement of sheets; the heavy duvet lightly draped over him stirring. He felt the bed shift as the weight lifted and he finally opened his eyes, a little irritated. It had been a good trance, the best he’d had in a while.

The room was bathed in moonlight. He quirked an eyebrow as his lips tugged down into a frown, confused as to why Ban had pulled the curtains back. He found her standing, staring at the mirror; it reflected nothing of note, of course, only the room and his own rather sleepy countenance visible.

“Ban.” His voice cut through the silence, rough with sleep. He tapped her side of the bed, a quick gesture to come back. When she didn’t respond he groaned and forced himself to sit up.

“Love. It’s very late, and I’d very much rather-”

The words died in his throat as he saw her shoulders shake.

“Nightmare,” she offered by way of explanation, voice wavering. Astarion wanted to press, then reconsidered; instead he spread his arms, offering sanctuary.

He noted her momentary pause, but before he could worry about rejection she moved, climbing up the bed and sliding into his embrace. They settled in, and he ended up with his head in the crook of her neck and his face pressed against the pulse there. Her arms were wrapped around his shoulders, a leg hooked over his hip.

Comfortable, he thought, fighting the urge to slip into trance again. Being tangled up with her was always pleasant, but it was incredibly tranquil when he was barely out of trance. He kept silent, trusting her to speak when she needed to. At least she’d stopped crying - he could tell from the way her breaths were slowing down; he pressed a kiss against the undead heartbeat in her neck.

“You can have some,” Ban offered, voice hoarse. Astarion paused, immediately on the defensive.

He didn’t want her to think that; he still occasionally worried she saw him as someone who uses her. Someone to fear. Someone to mistrust. That he was still just the Ascendant, try as he might to keep that side turned away from her. Try as he might to give her what she deserves: the soft core of him, her Astarion - not quite the spawn he was, and yet not completely the monster she’d perceived him to be. “That is not-” he began to protest.

“No, I know. But you can if you wish.” The answer was calm, unconcerned. Trusting.

Astarion reconsidered the offer. “Tempting, but I’ve tasted you once today, and that is enough.” Another kiss to that same spot, a small thank you.

Ban chuckled at the reminder. “That was rather fun. And I did appreciate it.” She smiled, almost shyly, and he fought the urge to tell her there was little need for it: she’d seen him at his worst and his best, and there was no cause to be embarrassed if he saw the same in her.

“It reminded me of before,” she continued, “back then. It was the same, but also different. Like you. Tonight you reminded me you’re both the man I loved before and the man I love now. I… needed that.”

A flood of warmth rushed through him and he wordlessly pressed a small peck to the tip of her nose. It was nowhere near enough to express the gratitude he felt at her words; he could only hope she understood.

He could sense she was about to tell him something else, however; the way her brow furrowed and her lips pursed were indicative. He patiently waited, head in the cage of her body, both of them bathed in moonlight. Astarion wouldn’t mind staying here forever. He covered her with the blanket, tucking them in. The coolness of her body dropped the temperature under the sheets, but he didn’t mind.

“I dreamt of you,” she said, and he tilted his head slightly, as much as he could without leaving the comfort of her embrace, meeting her gaze. He let one hand run up and down her side, fingers caressing cool skin, much like she had done when his had been.

“If dreaming of your husband makes you cry, love, I think we should be worried.” He kept the tone light, but his hand paused to pull her even closer so that they were almost fully flush against each other.

“No, not like that,” Ban clarified. “Not exactly. In fact, I’ve sort of been thinking of before, recently…”

As she trailed off, Astarion’s hand tightened on her waist. Thinking of before? What for? He took a long look at her face and took a stab at guessing, but was unable to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“Not like you haven’t been thinking of it all along, haven’t you?” he snipped, aware that he sounded bitter. She’d spent this entire year vacillating between thinking he’d been compromised by the ritual somehow, to missing the person she thought he’d been at the start - never mind that it had always been a mistaken notion - to finally grieving for what they could have been had the rite not happened.

So which was it now? He realized he was exhausted; each time this conversation arose he was reminded of how he wasn’t quite what she wanted, even if she’d finally accepted him.

Her hand ran through his curls, scratching his scalp; despite his pique he leaned into the touch. “Well, true,” Ban acknowledged with a small sigh. “But I do think I understand better now.”

Astarion braced, heartbeat picking up.

“I’ve come to realize there isn’t really much to regret, other than the six months of… that, and well, I suppose the deaths of everyone unfortunate enough to be bound to the rite. You’re you, like you’ve always said,” she paused for a moment, brow furrowed in thought.

“You’ve always been enough, Astarion. More than enough, even. You are everything to me - from the moment you held that knife to my throat to the present. Always. The rite did not make you more, or even less. It happened - I let it happen - because you wanted it. That’s all it is for me; it was never a statement of your worth. What hurt me, though, what ruined us, was you hiding your heart from me - refusing to let me in. I see it now.”

He closed his eyes, exhaling roughly, relief and exhilaration suffusing him in equal measure. He also felt the need to be honest, however, and tacked his own thoughts onto hers. “Well. You also pulled away, if you recall. Stopped perceiving me. Seeing me.” He moved his hand from her waist to cup a breast, gently kneading it. “I’m not… seeking a fight, Ban; merely mentioning relevant information.” That he mentioned to waylay any chance of her withdrawing from him or taking what he said as a taunt, knowing she at times still took a rather less… charitable view of his words.

“I know,” came the reply. The hand in his drifted towards his ear, caressing the tip; he couldn’t help the slight shiver that ran through him at the contact. She didn’t do that often enough; he came apart every time she did.

“If that’s the case, what was it about dreaming of me that bothered you?” His voice came out breathy, the fingers now tracing the edge of his ear claiming more and more of his attention. “Ban-” he choked out, releasing her breast and reaching out, fingers wrapping around her wrist, stilling her hand. “I can’t focus if you insist on continuing that.”

In the moonlight she smiled, fangs glinting; he felt his heart swell at the sight. Still rare, smiles like that. Only for him, he knew - from the day they’d first met she’d saved smiles like that solely for him. How wonderful it had been to have that smile returned to him, to be worthy of it again. The smile grew wider, and he realized he was at her mercy should she choose to let things progress - not that he minded.

“Oh, I’m sure you can,” she teased, keeping her hand on his ear. Astarion gave up, releasing his grip on her wrist. Another caress along his ear and he shuddered again; her fingers continued as she talked. “Well. I dreamt of you, but you were telling me my father was right. About me, about what I’m meant to be.”

Astarion frowned, the words proving enough to distract him from the pleasant sensation.

“That,” he scoffed, “is the silliest thing your mind could conjure up. I have talked to your father twice, both about the mirror. He isn’t even aware-”

“I know.” The leg hooked over his hip tugged him closer, pressing their hips together. “But I do think it’s a sign for me to finally tell you what you’ve been wanting to know.”

Belatedly, Astarion realized what Ban was trying to do. The touching, the pressing. Intimacy, because she felt too bare when talking about this, too exposed. That wasn’t an issue normally, but the way she was pressing their hips together told him she was attempting to escalate into sex. But right now that would be wrong; it would be sex used flippantly, without much regard for her own wants - much like he had done for centuries. The thought niggled in his mind, nebulous memories of his past slowly resurfacing.

“Very well,” he said, carefully weighing his words. “But if we’re to talk about this, don’t-” Astarion ground his hips against hers, once. A reminder. “Don’t do that, at least for now.” He understood the urge, more than she would ever know, but he wished for this conversation to be focused solely on what’s important. Her.

The memory resurfaces, unbidden:

Darling, what are you doing? This isn’t safe - you can’t trust him!

Ban, asking everyone to leave the boudoir, him included. He had wanted to fight back, had indeed said as much, snapping at her to not be stupid and to think it over, that he could protect her, could kill the hapless-

But she’d said no. That it would risk all of the House of Hope turning against them, that in the end it wouldn’t be so bad: it’s just sex, after all. The unsaid words had weighed on him, they did to this day. She’d been hurting, their relationship imploding in front of their eyes - she hadn’t cared what he thought. More importantly, she hadn’t seemed to care what happened to her.

And then there’d been the day, weeks later, the day the incubus had decided to use her body. Walking in the middle of Baldur’s Gate he’d heard her stifle a moan.

“I heard that moan. It’s the incubus, isn’t it? Enjoying your body?” He’d murmured, feeling lost, impotent - enraged. “Gods, though I’ve become untouchable, my precious treasure has been violated still.”

She hadn’t answered, merely spared him a glance. He’d forced himself to push on. “I know what it’s like to lose control over your own body. It’s a wretched thing.”

Words, effort. He had tried, and he thinks she’d seen it; for a moment they’d been just as they had before - connected. She’d smiled, a hauntingly hollow one that still plagued his mind from time to time.

“I may as well just try to enjoy it,” she’d replied, trying to go for lightheartedness and failing entirely.

Because wasn’t that what she’d been doing, with him, with their relationship? Even as their love wilted like flowers in a drought, she had stayed. Astarion had taken that chance to speak words he would never have allowed himself to say otherwise.

“I thought the same once. It didn’t last.” A bitter smile had crossed his face at these words, quickly replaced by furrowed brows and regret. “I know what’s done is done - you made your vow. But I’m sorry all the same.”

I’m sorry, to have done it to you as well, to have ruined you so thoroughly you’d think this acceptable.

That afternoon he’d left, citing some meeting regarding the palace’s deed of ownership. He’d slipped back into the House of Hope. For the first time, he and that mewling spawn had been in perfect accord - Haarlep had to die. It had surprised him how little effort it had taken to end their miserable existence. Unleashing the Ascendant for the first time had felt so right. The fierce, rabid joy of allowing his newfound power free rein, the exhilaration of being able to lash out with all that he had, to bring every ounce of his potential to bear on one who had so wronged his precious treasure… exquisite. He’d come back to see Ban on their bed, watching him with guarded eyes as always.

“You’ll never moan for Haarlep again,” he had said, euphoria and rage still roiling through him in equal measure. Part of him had wanted to take her into his arms and kiss that memory away, but the Ascendant, still intoxicated with the overwhelming feeling of power, had easily shoved that desire for tenderness deep down. Instead he’d growled. “You’ll never moan for anyone but me.”

He’d done it for her, and yet he’d never clarified his apology. He’d never allowed her to catch a glimpse of his old self, of his heart. He’d never fully shown her his regret.

Perhaps he should now.

“One more thing, if you’ll indulge me,” Astarion added quickly; he took her wrist again with a little more desperation, this time managing to pry her hand from his ear as she noticed the change in his tone.

“I’m listening,” Ban seemed more curious than anything else. He was sure the sudden nervousness was clearly written on his face, and he took a small breath, lacing their fingers together.

Before you fully let me in, you deserve to hear this.

“You’re not - you realize I know full well what this is, don’t you?” It wasn’t what he’d initially planned to say, the words coming out rather stern. He sighed, pressing on anyway. “You don’t do it often, but you do - enough - and you cannot hide it, least of all from me.” He squeezed her hand. Whatever the dream was, whatever she was bracing herself to tell him was obviously causing this response; he’d observed it in her once or twice before, back when their relationship was at its worst. He hadn’t bothered to do anything about it then - he vowed to correct that now.

“Astarion, I don’t-”

“This.” Another grind of his hips against hers and she fell silent. “I caused it - unintentionally, but that does not absolve me of it. I tried to win your affection back the only way I knew how, and somehow what you learned instead was to - to do this,” he spat out.

“So do me a favor, Ban, and stop. Please.” The seriousness in his voice finally got through to her and she nodded, unhooking her leg from his hip. They were still pressed close, but there was enough space between them that he could concentrate.

He nodded. “Good girl.” He pressed a small kiss to her lips, but pulled away before she even thought to deepen it. He crooked an elbow to rest his head on his palm, fixing his gaze on hers. She looked uncertain, seemingly anxious herself. Get on with it, he thought to himself; this was long overdue.

“I want to talk about what I did to you.”

His words were met with a groan; Ban untangled her fingers from his to rub her forehead. “Astarion, we’ve spent so much time talking about all of that. Must we really do this again?”

Astarion laughed, incredulous and more than a little miffed at her attempts at avoidance. “Indeed we have, and I still have yet to tell you the most important thing.” The one thing that could have fixed things earlier, he mused; but he supposes it’s better now than not at all.

“Mm.” Ban reached out; he felt her hand cup his cheek. “You don’t have to say anything. It’s all-”

“No.” He glared at her; the anger, however, was not aimed at her. “Enough of this, love. Stop granting me room to back out of it at your expense - I’m begging you.” Astarion clenched his jaw; it was already hard enough to get himself to say it. Having her keep providing him the chance to deflect only exacerbated the issue.

“I’m sorry.”

He managed to hiss it out, teeth gritted.

There. Everything else should be easier now.

Ban froze. He’d never said that before, and her reaction wasn’t surprising to him. “For ascending - to ensure my freedom, to keep you safe, to protect this - it was selfish.” He covered the hand on his cheek with one of his own, then lifted it off to hold it. “For all the pain I have inflicted on you.”

“Turning you - and yes, before you even mention it, I am aware you gave me permission - was more than just to save you from the ravages of time.” Astarion barely paused, stopping for a quick breath and rushing in headfirst before he could rethink it. “I didn’t want to see you perish against the Netherbrain or whatever else we encountered in our journey - gods - not when I could remedy that issue with a single bite.”

“But that isn’t-” she tried to interrupt; he cut her off, refusing yet another avenue for him to escape to. He pressed her palm over his chest.

“Oh, but it is selfish, Ban. Had you not turned I would have ended things. I would have rather kept you at a distance than have you and see you dead in my arms. Perhaps if there was no Netherbrain, no threat, I may have been more willing to wait; had things been less fraught between us, had I been more reassured…” he trailed off. Had he been braver, better, then maybe things would have been-

That wasn’t the point. They both know what he had been.

I’m doing this for you, too, you know. To make sure we’re both safe. Forever, for good.

Words he’d uttered in an attempt to persuade her about the ascension. Even as he’d said it he hadn’t been quite sure how much of it was truth and how much of it was manipulation. After the rite, there’d been little distinction between the two; the concept of their safety had been entirely warped.

“As it stood, however… I had to ensure everything I wanted and needed was mine to keep by any means necessary.” That, of course, had involved manipulating and lying. He fell silent, scanning her face, trying to read her response.

She pursed her lips momentarily. “And then when you had me - turned me - that need to keep me safe became the need to keep me caged. Subdued. You lied about what I am, and so many other things.” Surprisingly there didn’t seem to be much anger in her tone, merely resignation.

“You’re not wrong.” His jaw began to clench but he forced it to relax; he needed this to be said in a far calmer way than they had before. “I resented - no - loathed what we became. To protect and cherish you became to keep you, and to keep you was to ensnare you. To drag you down with me.”

I’m sure you’ll make the right decision, she had said that fateful day, as they’d prepared to face Cazador.

He had done so, he thinks; seven thousand lives had been the cost, but they had been as good as lost at that point - caged for years, starving, no doubt feral. Astarion was all too aware that this idea was hypocritical, that he was no better than them.

But some of them had hurt him, he’d reasoned further; he had suffered abuse at their hands. Part of him had asked if that was enough to doom the rest too, but he didn’t dwell on it. He had been lucky - blessed, even though he took no stock in deities - given the chance to be something better, surpassing even his maker. And whyever would he not seize the chance?

Because it would damn him? He’d already been there; there’s almost nothing worse than what he’d gone through.

Because it would be the right thing to do? An even weaker excuse.

No, if that was the cost of freedom, then it would be paid. He’d willingly given what little integrity he’d had for it.

What Astarion had not counted on, however, was paying for the rite with his heart.

She’d said she wanted what was best for him; indeed, she had been trying to dissuade him, but he’d figured when push came to shove she’d acquiesce. In this he had not been wrong.

But he had been wrong when it came to the most important thing - her love. He’d realized with dawning horror that he may have gone too far when he’d seen her expression as he’d carved Cazador’s back, when he could feel her fear, her judgment, through the tadpole.

He’d smelled the blood, the sick-sweet tang of it rousing his stomach for what was to be the last time, had heard his master’s screams - but none of that had mattered. What had mattered was the feeling that had passed from her to him. Her love, receding like the tide, replaced by a myriad of negative emotions: unnamed, fleeting, but all-encompassing; as if her love was so shallow, so conditional. The first choice he’d made against her wishes and he was punished yet again. She had stopped seeing her lover, then; she had seen a monster where he’d once stood.

Then a monster he would be, he’d thought, as Rhapsody sliced through Cazador’s back.

That sentiment hadn’t abated as he’d taken his rightful place in the rite, Woe in his grasp. Even as the power had surged into his veins, even as his heart had begun to beat faster, that thought had still been at the forefront of his mind.

Had he lost her?

No. She’d lost me.

Bitterness and anger had suffused him as surely as the newfound vigor of his heart and the rush of his newly-altered blood had. How dare she - how dare they, for he’d sensed the disgust of his so-called friends as well - wrest the joy of this moment from him? This was his moment of triumph, two centuries of pain leading to this, to what he deserves, what he is owed-

The very first moments as the Ascendant, each full of purpose and power and freedom; it should have been glorious. And it had been - or it would have been, if she hadn’t looked at him that way. If he hadn’t known exactly what she thought of him.

Thus the mask had gone back on, perhaps forever. What did it matter? The hunger was gone. He was-

“-free. I’m finally free! Oh it feels delicious.”

Ban had approached him, expression wary. “Not sure I like the sound of that.”

Immediately he’d wanted to snap at her, to scream. Freedom, everything he’d ever wanted, and she said that? Instead he’d smiled, cold and all teeth. “Oh don’t worry, darling. I won’t bite unless you ask very, very nicely.”

Please. Just accept the apology.

She was silent for a long moment, eyes boring into his own. He waited patiently, or as patiently as he could manage, anyway - he could feel his traitorous heart hammering beneath her palm.

“I knew all that,” she finally said, “but… hearing you say it is a relief.” Her eyes seemed to glisten, and Astarion worried for a moment that he’d hurt her again. But she smiled, and his shoulders dropped, his concern somewhat eased.

Seeing her reaction bolstered his resolve; he reached out to thumb away the burgeoning teardrops. “Allow me to provide you with more of that, then. You are no doubt aware of this, I am certain, but it bears repeating.” She’d talked about her regrets, and so he felt that it would also help for her to fully know his. “Or at least, you suspect it.” He offered her a pained half-smile. Don’t hate me.

“I don’t regret ascending. At certain moments, indeed, I came close,” he added, remembering when he’d let Vel’s spawn end their master themselves, remembers thinking that was what he should have done. The night he’d begged her to love him like she’d used to. When Ban had left him and he’d thought the ascension had cost him her love. “I regret the pain it caused you, the… sundering of our bond that happened as a result of it, very much so. But the act itself?” he shook his head.

“It freed me. You freed me, and I will never rue the day you gave everything back to me.” His eyes were now wide, soft, and he leaned in closer. Her breath hitched, and he smiled at the sound of it. “You gave me love. Freedom. This,” he added, his hand pressing down hard on hers, against his chest, emphasizing the pounding she could no doubt feel. “I have repaid you poorly, and that is something I will spend eternity making reparations for. But if refusing to lament everything that has happened makes me a monster, then so be it.”

Before she could reply he closed the gap, finding her lips. As his mouth met hers he felt the fingers on his chest curl, forming claws, digging into his flesh. It sent a low thrill of arousal through him, but one that he keeps at bay for now. Ending the kiss, he kept his face close to hers, breathing the same air.

“I don’t mind being a monster to the rest of the world, if I can be just Astarion for you.”

He’d always been one anyway in the eyes of many: an undead, unholy creature - one who had made the hero of Baldur’s Gate like him; who had ended thousands of lives in his quest for freedom. He would argue that each of those lives he’d extinguished were also monsters, just like him, slaves to sanguine hunger, a danger; or that a not insignificant number of them were decidedly not good people, or-

It matters not, he realized; only this does. Being here, kissing his wife, her hand on his heart, for only she matters, only her joy and her pain and her love.

Ban’s eyes were wide as Astarion finished speaking, not quite sure what to say for a moment. Her hand remained on his chest although her clawlike grip had eased. She could see her husband’s eyes glittering in the faint light; crimson irises boring into hers, awaiting her response. His expression seemed utterly calm, his body still, the rapid rising and falling of his chest the only evidence to the contrary.

She felt a stab of guilt at today’s events - at lashing out, at deliberately aiming for his soft, exposed heart and skewering it. He’d hurt her, yes, with poorly-planned and obviously harebrained attempts to unearth her past, but she understood why. He needed to know - he’d said as much, after all - to be able to comprehend her in her entirety, just as she had been allowed to for him. To be allowed that would be a gesture of faith, something her husband sorely craves, and sorely deserves.

“Astarion,” she began carefully, noting how his breathing stopped entirely as he hung onto every word. Ban traced the line of his jaw with her fingertips, in what she hoped was a soothing gesture.

“Do you know how much I love you?”

How deeply, how helplessly. She loves him beyond all reason; she would do anything, endure everything for him. He haunts her every thought, he reigns over her dreams. She couldn’t help but want him, accept him, forgive him… love him, even at his worst. Her mind drifted back to that inescapable day.

All right, but what’s best for you?

Until the moment the rite had commenced Ban hadn’t been sure what the answer to her own question was, nor what she would do if push came to shove. She’d been able to see him struggling, the poisonous energy of the palace sinking into his bones, into his soul. She’d wanted to hold him, to tell him everything was going to be alright, that she would be by his side no matter what he chose.

The sight of the prisoners had unnerved her, and had seemed to unnerve him too, despite his attempts to downplay it.

“In another life,” she had said in an attempt to appeal to him, “you’d have led me to this crypt, and not that pretty clearing in the forest.”

She’d taken a deep breath. “Don’t avoid it. Face it. You would have killed me.”

She had hated having to do that, hated forcing him to confront the reality of it in the hopes of swaying him, but it had needed to be done.

“I would have killed you…” He had said, slowly, as if every syllable was being torn from his throat. Perhaps they had been.

She remembered the fight, of running, leaping, weapon in hand, rushing to free Astarion from the rite. There had been fear then, far more than she had ever felt in her life. Had she perished that day, she felt she wouldn’t have minded; it was him she’d worried for. Him, who deserved so much more than he’d ever gotten - if she’d lost her life giving him what he was worthy of, she would have died happy.

Ban remembered watching Cazador being dragged out of his coffin, that sweet surge of victory quickly shifting into discomfort when Astarion spoke.

“I am so much more than what you made me.”

Yes, she’d agreed-

But then he’d turned to her, pleading. “I can do this, but I need your help.”

The discomfort had shifted into apprehension. She’d tried to reason with him, to point him in the right direction.

Didn’t you hear him? If you complete the ritual, you’ll be consumed.

If I help you complete the ritual, it will kill all these people.

Words that had all fallen on deaf ears. She’d known he was terrified, overcome with bloodlust, desperate for power. For freedom. Ban had often wondered since that day if she was to blame, if in the end she hadn’t been able to talk him down because she hadn’t believed the truth of her own words. Not enough, anyway.

She’d always felt like she ought to be more revolted by the idea, but deep down she knew she didn’t really feel that way. The only thing she’d seen at that moment had been Astarion, needing her help, and everything else had seemed like background noise - secondary and easily discarded the moment he’d turned to her with those frantic eyes.

With that, Ban had uttered the words that would damn her, and him, and so many other souls along with them.

“All right, what do you need?”

Help me do this. Please.

She still told herself she’d been powerless to resist, that love had compelled her heart more than any spell ever could. She had heard that plea and had opened her mind to his, sharing her eyes with him so that he could proceed.

The apprehension had twisted into fear the moment Rhapsody had cut into Cazador’s back. Astarion had looked beatific, almost gleeful; those beautiful, skilled hands carving the runes into flesh without hesitation. She’d kept her eyes on his back, focusing on each rune as he’d copied them onto Cazador, equal parts terrified and focused. She should have expected it, she’d told herself; two hundred years of suffering under someone and you’d no doubt feel the same way. But the horror had still been there, at the sheer cruelty of it, his joy as he’d done it, at the idea that he would end seven thousand lives with a smile on his face. But he had been elated, and she had said-

I just want you to be happy.

It was the ugly truth; she would’ve burned the world into cinders and damned every single soul in it if it meant he’d finally be content.

But it hadn’t made actually doing it any easier.

Ban had stood by, held her silence, quelled the protests of their companions. She’d only been able to watch as her beloved had taken what he’d deemed rightfully his. She hadn’t thought to hide the naked horror on her face, the revulsion she’d felt at what he was doing, at the question of whether he’d always been like this, so cold and cruel and vile.

Never mind her own selfishness, her own love winning out over what she had known to be the right thing to do when the moment to choose finally came - that would come later. In the moment, her disgust had only come at the sight of the carnage, of his exhilaration, of the prisoners - now more real to her than the mere potential of ending so many lives they’d been before.The disgust had been quickly compounded by the horrible realization that if she ran her weapon through Astarion right then, she would save them all. But she would not. Could not.

Repugnant, her lover had become in those moments, just like her love. An illness she could never hope to cure. And so Ban had witnessed Astarion ascend, her mind buffeted with those swirling thoughts, her body frozen in place.

When he had finally approached her, he hadn’t sounded like himself, further cementing the idea that she had taken a very wrong turn. He’d been so different, so off, that she had believed the rite had fundamentally changed him.

“Come on, you’re still the same Astarion, just stronger.” Please. Please tell me I’m right. Please, tell me you’re still in there.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure. The very composition of my blood has been altered…” had come the calm, cold reply.

She’d then spoken the last truly sincere words she’d utter to him until the day she left him.

“You’re starting to scare me…” she’d whispered, wishing for him to tell her it’s okay, I’m still me. I’m here. I’ve got you, like he’d always done.

But he hadn’t, and that had sealed their fate.

Her love for him had almost been lost in their darkest days, its fire dimmed down to nothing more than ash and a few dying embers. In the time since their reconciliation, however, it had been reignited, burning brighter than ever before - now that she understands who he truly is, both the shadow and the light, without any masks. But she still hadn’t given him the same openness.

In the moonlight, she watched her husband consider her words. The rising and falling of his chest had entirely ceased, the depth of his thoughts causing him to forget that unneeded facsimile of living. This, however, made the severity of his distress even more obvious; without the movement of his lungs his heart hammered under her palm without interruption.

“Well,” Astarion swallowed. “I know you love me, although you don’t say it nearly often enough for my liking.” He tried for a chuckle but it fell flat; he took a small breath before speaking again. “I am aware, I suppose, but at times it requires some… reinforcing.”

As for how much, he didn’t pry, which Ban found rather refreshing and gratifying.

Ban couldn’t help a small noise of bitter amusement - she knew she’d been remiss in verbally telling him, perhaps even in showing him. In the months since they’d begun rebuilding their relationship, she hadn’t really made it a point to say those words often, merely stating them in moments that seemed appropriate, like when they held each other in post-coital bliss or in response to something he’d said or done. Her focus had mostly been on mending his behavior, and while she knew that was important, she recognized his dissatisfaction was valid.

There was no small feeling of resentment for herself, for still being stubborn about fully trusting him when he’d so clearly been trying his best for her. She had often refused to see it, but there was no shying away from it now - the pain, anxiety, and apprehension writ large on Astarion’s face, the piteous way he attempted to pass off his very legitimate concerns as a joke and nothing more. That insistent pounding under her palm, so much nervous energy bundled up and hidden, revealed nowhere else, but clear in every frantic heartbeat.

She steeled herself. Do better.

“I love you. I see all of you, and I would have you tell me every single thing you’ve ever done wrong so I can show you that I’ll love you anyway.” Said without a trace of hesitance; her hand settled on his chin, thumb brushing over his upper lip. “You’ve hurt me, broken me, and yet forgiving you is still a little too easy for my liking,” she admitted, a little shyly. “What more evidence could you ask for?”

A lot more, she was aware; but she was unable to keep that edge of defensiveness at bay.

A small smile broke through those beautiful lips; Ban traced them as they curved upwards, relief suffusing her. He took her hand, lifting it to press kisses on the back. She saw his eyes surreptitiously rake over her face as he did, studying it in that way he’d now become so skilled at. “Thank you,” Astarion smirked in a momentary bit of mischievousness that she wasn’t sure was genuine. “That was rather delightful to hear, and as much as I ought to say I don’t deserve it… well,” he shrugged. “I’m not going to refuse.”

Another kiss, on her wrist this time; he parted his lips to mouth at the vein, turning solemn again. “I don’t need evidence. Reminders are appreciated, however.” The last words were mumbled against her skin, as though he was embarrassed.

“It’s not a matter of who deserves what, Astarion,” Ban reminded. “We both deserve it. Happiness, comfort, trust. Love. We’ve both always deserved all of those.” She took one deep breath, then forced the words out. “I love you because I love you. I’ve done so from the day I first saw you, loved you even when it was killing me. I love you so much that it’s terrifying and I still don’t know how much, or how far it goes. It feels endless. I love you. Only you. Alright?”

The last word came out sharp, her need for him to understand coming through as frustration. She wished he could simply believe her words, but of course more is required. Action.

She didn’t hesitate, quickly enclosing him within her limbs, holding him close to her body. A quiet reshuffling of arms and legs later, the only noise the rustling of the sheets, and he was comfortably nestled against her chest. Ban pressed a small kiss to the top of his head. “You might say you don’t need proof, but I shall provide some anyway. Consider this: what I want to tell you, I’ve never told anyone before. I’ve never told you before. Not back when we were adventuring, not when you hadn’t ascended yet. This,” she emphasized, “I tell the present you, the you in front of me right now. Do you understand?”

It seemed to help. She felt him exhale and burrow deeper against her torso, hiding his face as a small, muffled sound of assent left him. He kept silent after that, awaiting her next words.

Ban braced herself. It was time, then, for another soul to know. Of anyone, she knew he’d understand best, however the old instinct to hide it had been overwhelming. There have been countless nights throughout their time together when she’d debated telling Astarion, but something had always stopped her. At first, she’d felt like she didn’t know him enough; then she had, but he had too much on his plate by then and the daily toil of fighting for their lives made it seem insignificant in comparison. The aftermath of the rite had completely eradicated the idea from her mind, turning it into just another way she would’ve handed him weapons to hurt her with.

In these months of rebuilding their relationship she knew he’d been wanting to know her more fully; it was exactly why he’d contacted the Glasscrafts, after all. It hadn’t felt like the right time even since the reconciliation, but after tonight’s dream and the resulting conversation she felt safe enough to at least offer up some information.

She let a hand run through his curls, watching them shine as though made of spun starlight. He tilted his head back, leaning into her touch, exposing his face and the delicate arch of his neck. She smiled down at him; seeing him like this made speaking seem almost effortless.

Ban opened her mouth, however, and found that the words refused to come forth.

“I-” she choked out, throat suddenly tight.

Hands cupped her cheeks - gentle, his touch so painfully light it didn’t feel quite real; the crimson gaze meeting hers anchored her in place. He spoke, softer than usual, tone almost reverent.

“You’re alright, my love. I’ve got you.”

With that, Ban nodded, and the words finally flowed.

“My father’s one true love is the shop,” she began, voice small and hesitant. “He was always there every single day without fail. The mirrors were my companions growing up; I was raised around them, learned to catalog them and take inventory, to be able to sell them in my sleep.”

Running amongst reflections of herself, hiding amongst the tall, thin frames of glass and wood as her brother tried to find her, her mother screaming at them to stop running around and what if you broke one of them?

Your father would be livid.

“He lived and breathed it, and wanted us to do the same.” Ban pursed her lips, thinking, and Astarion took the chance to pull away. He propped some pillows against the headboard, settling against them, patting his chest. The message was clear, and Ban couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips as she let her head rest over his heart, draping an arm and leg over him, a position they’d assumed nightly during their adventure.

Astarion tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “So a man consumed by his craft, likely neglectful of his children.” He’d gathered as much; it was obvious there was little love left between Ban and her family, after all.

She shrugged. “That would be a nice way of putting it, I suppose. He wanted more than just to have the shop. He wanted it to be bigger, more successful, and was willing to do it by any means necessary. No stone left unturned, he would say, just to ensure that the Glasscraft trade continues to the next generation.”

The next words were a bit harder to bring up. “He… he-”

Before she could continue, his arms wrapped around her, rubbing her back. “I’m here,” he whispered. “There isn’t any other soul here, my love. Just you and me.”

Bracing herself, she nodded. “To raise us right, to make sure we were obedient and did everything he asked of us meant… correction.” She winced, the memories of belts and hands slapping against her skin until she was raw and bleeding surfaced, as fresh as if it were yesterday. “He used anything he could get his hands on - his belt, his palms, that one rod he kept especially for this specific purpose - he’d slap, hit, punch, everything.”

Astarion’s heart contracted painfully at the words but he remained silent, his grip on her tightening protectively.

“My mother chose herself, most of the time. She encouraged it, said I needed to learn be strong as a woman. Aiden was spared much of it. He was the heir - he was favored; he listened to them most of the time, even if he hated them as much as I did. I-” she gasped, voice finally cracking, “I couldn’t fight back. There was no one to help me. No one was on my side. In the end, I gave in. I bowed. I listened to everything they said. I learned.”

Another deep, shaky breath; Astarion couldn’t help himself this time, pressing a fierce kiss to the top of her head. He felt moisture hit his skin as her tears fell, cooling along the path they traced as they meandered across his chest. He thumbed a burgeoning tear away, giving her a soft, encouraging smile.

“Then I came of age. He had friends. Fellow merchants, all from the same neighboring villages. All with their own fortunes, all rich, all well connected. They helped each other - lent each other coin, invested in each others’ businesses, networked for and with each other. It only made sense, when one of them wrote to say they had a son of my age, to-” she stuttered, “to ask for my hand in marriage.”

Astarion groaned. The hand on her back moved up, stroking her hair absently. “And so your father attempted to sell you off like livestock, did he?” She felt his chest rise as he took in a sharp breath, seemingly trying to rein in his temper. “Did you ever consider drinking him dry, Ban? I would be very, very glad to do it for you.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Tempting, but he would taste vile, I have no doubt.” Ban shifted her head to look up at his face, meeting his gaze. He offered her a smile, comforting and gentle, but the hard edges of his anger were unmistakable.

“I’d happily deal with it if it meant ridding the world of his sorry existence, of course, but other options are also available. Daggers and poison, for instance,” Astarion drawled. He pursed his lips. “What else has this man done to you?”

Not that he needed to hear any more, but he wanted to know everything.

“Well, the thing about selling me off was that it was sort of expected the moment I was born,” she continued. “He started me early, grooming me for success, as he put it; he trained me specifically to know how to work my way around the business, but not just his - any business. He taught me how to navigate social events, to organize them, to scheme and manipulate my way through…”

Ban trailed off as she saw her husband’s stricken look; his breath hitched and the heart beneath her started to race again.

“When you said I was close to him, then, you weren’t exactly exaggerating,” Astarion managed to say, brow furrowed, gaze searing into her own and lips in a pout she would normally want to kiss away. “You-” he exhaled. “You’re wedded to your father.”

For an instant, Astarion wanted to run. The hand on her hair froze as the instinct took over. Was he hurting her by staying? Was he representative of something she’d rather forget, especially now, as they both hold court over the Crimson Palace? His mouth snapped shut, a preventative measure, lest he say something that would undo all the progress they’d just made. After all, she hadn’t said anything of that sort, had she?

But you do remind her of him. He remembered the words she’d used during their argument: Power-hungry. Manipulative. Self-centered.

“Astarion.”

He blinked as he heard her call for him, her hand splayed on his chest next to where her chin rests. “Yes, my love?” he answered, too quickly, automatically, his brain rushing to catch up with what she has to say as it still worked to ease his own panic.

Do I say something? Offer to leave her? No!

But is there more I need to do? She didn’t say anything - it may be best for me to keep my mouth shut - but would that be manipulative in itself? Selfish?

“You need to relax,” Ban said, pressing a kiss to his cheek; as she did he inadvertently turned his face to meet hers, a faux-curious Hm? already on his lips, another feeble attempt to dissuade her from looking too deeply into his mental state.

As a result their lips met instead.

It wasn’t unwelcome. Ban smiled into the kiss and deepened it; he returned it with a desperation he hadn’t felt in a while. He captured her bottom lip, sucking gently, wondering if he should push for more, if only to remind her of how he could be useful, could be worth something-

Stop, he told himself. She loves you.

With some effort he pulled away, a sad smile on his lips. “I may have gotten a little carried away,” he began, then shook his head. “No. I-”

“We were both doing what you called me out for trying to do a few minutes ago,” she teased; of course she’d understand. He nodded, a little embarrassed.

“Well. You did learn from the best, darling,” he murmured, a tad rueful. She smiled, another of those saved for only him, and settled back over his heart, looking away; giving him room to breathe and compose himself, he figured.

Grateful, he let his hand continue stroking her hair. She leaned into his touch, and that small movement did wonders at soothing him. “You’re not my father, Astarion,” Ban said. “You remind me of him sometimes, yes, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“You did the same things he trained you to do,” he said, finding himself protesting before he could think better of it. “For me.”

Don’t, don’t! She said it’s fine!

“And I am everything you said he is,” he added. Astarion partially feared that he was digging his own grave here, but wanted - no, needed - it to be clear, as much for his sake as for hers.

“You are,” she mumbled from where she was nuzzling at his chest. “But you’ve always been those things, yet I’ve always loved you anyway. As for the scheming,” she waved a hand, “I can do it; you want to have some influence over Baldur’s Gate at the very least, even just the social sort. I’m not against the idea, so it’s fine.”

“You loved me because you thought I was better than that,” he reminded, a little rise to his voice, exasperated. He was irritated at himself for pushing this, he needed to stop lest it makes her realize something that would be detrimental to him. But he also wanted the truth - wanted to be sure he was what she wanted, that this newfound security was warranted. “Do you even like the parties, Ban? All the… dancing, talking, meetings?” He flapped a hand in the air.

She fell silent, seemingly considering the question. “Back then, no. Lately? It’s been rather fun,” she admitted. She was about to launch into an explanation when Astarion cut her off; evidently his concerns were firmly on the statement she hadn't acknowledged.

“I’m glad, but-” he said, a little curtly; he clenched his jaw, debating whether to ask her about it or not.

“Astarion,” Ban chided. “I love you because of who you are. I may not have seen all of you back then, but it doesn’t change what I feel now, nor what I just said.”

He felt himself relax. Not trusting his mouth, he nodded instead. There was enough proof, here, from her words to the fact that she was letting her walls down for him - not his old self, him. Signs of vulnerability from her were few and far between, slipping through only in the most intimate of moments.

A poisonous and rather spiteful thought crossed his mind, of how much he’d been made to open up, to fight two centuries of programmed behavior for her love, but she - what - simply got to choose when to say it, without any consequences? Not that he wanted to give her any, of course; it was just that it stung.

“I’ll accept that,” he made himself say; he knew he sounded a little stiff, “and your candor about your father is highly appreciated.”

He knew she’d noticed. The hand tracing circles on his chest stilled. “Now that you know,” she mused, “I think I might as well tell you what I’ve decided to do with… with the information you procured.”

Astarion glanced down at her, and as her eyes met his he realized she was guarded again, no doubt having sensed the edge in his tone just now. He sighed, then forced some mirth into his words.

“I’m all pointy ears, my love,” he drawled lazily.

The all-too-familiar words made her grin, breaking the tension.

“I think I should go see them.”

If you would like to see more of these two and their story, consider reading my other entries in the series "If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there."

I am happy to announce that 'Whither is thy beloved gone?' is getting professionally edited as well. I shall keep everyone abreast of when these changes go live. Thank you!

Taglist: @tavamarie @ayselluna @enterthedreams @coltaire @qiific3 @misscrissfemmefatale @vixstarria @eatyourheartoutmylove @linllewellyn @battisonsgf @micropoe10 @thegoodwitchs-blog @akirahime @velcyrptr @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @babblebrain-blog @asterordinary @last-but-not-the-least @artist4theworld @gracemisconduct @decadentcoffeewizard @rootin-tootin-n-kind @pursuitseternal @youngtacobanana @krispeenuggiez @girlygmer-blog @cheezits4lyfe @vinegarjello @the0ldmann @wisteriaofthegraves @girlygmer-blog @midnight-musings-of-nyx @toni-winchester @icybluepenguin @beepersteeper @hereliesblackdragon

[companion-showdown]

Almost/Could have been Companion: Nominations

It's nomination time: Who is the Best Almost Companion

Who would you like to have seen become a companion?

Rules:

Must have met the Doctor

I know Jago and Litefoot are popular but I am not including anyone from Talons as a matter of principle

Not someone you could already call a companion (some exceptions may be made on a case by case basis) (if they are TV characters who are companions only in the EU that will be allowed)

Not necessary, but ideally someone who would have said yes in the right circumstances

There's no other restrictions on the kinds of characters to include, just anyone you wanted to come on further adventures in the TARDIS

Nominations will close in 24 hours (17:15 BST (UTC+1), 13/10)

Current list under the cut because it is already very long and only going to get longer

60s

Cameca (The Aztecs)

Jenny (The Dalek Invasion of Earth)

Bret Vyon (The Daleks Master Plan)

Anne (The Massacre)

Sam Briggs (The Faceless Ones)

Isobel (The Invasion)

Fariah (Enemy of the World)

Astrid Ferrier (Enemy of the World)

Ping-Cho (Marco Polo)

70s

Miss Hawthorne (The Daemons)

Bellal (Death to the Daleks)

Lish Toos (The Robots of Death)

D84 (Robots of Death)

Rodan (The Invasion of Time)

Duggan (City of Death)

80s

Todd (Kinda)

Richard Mace (The Visitation)

Will Chandler (The Awakening)

Chela (Snakedance)

Norna (Frontis)

Janet (Terror of the Vervoids)

The DJ (Revelation of the Daleks)

Ray (Delta and the Bannermen)

Mags (The Greatest Show in the Galaxy)

Shou Yuing (Battlefield)

Sabalom Glitz (Various)

Rachel (Remembrance of the Daleks)

Allison (Remembrance of the Daleks)

Gustave Lytton (Resurrection of the Daleks, Attack of the Cybermen)

EU

Ruby Duvall

Cousin Justine (Met the Doctor in Alien Bodies)

The Duke of Wellington (multiple encounters)

Irving Braxiatel (the Doctor’s Brother, and a Jerk)

Koschie (Academy era Master)

Millennia and Rallon

Narvin

Alan Turing

Hal Bishop

Abslom Dakk

Carolyn McConnell (Vampire Science)

Alex Campbell (the dead one not the alternate version who travels with the doctor)

Bounce (Year of Intelligent Tigers)

Karl Sadeghi (Year if Intelligent Tigers)

Scarlette (Adventures of Henrietta Street)

Leonardo da Vinci (Various)

Jason Kane

Jack Springheel

Peter Summerfield

RTD

Jabe (The End of the World)

Harriet Jones (Aliens of London / World War Three

Lynda (Bad Wolf / The Parting of the Ways)

Mrs Moore (Rise of the Cybermen / The Age of Steel)

Jake (Rise of the Cybermen / The Age of Steel & Army of Ghosts / Doomsday)

Sally Sparrow (Blink)

Timothy (Human Nature / The Family of Blood (could have his name wrong))

Joan Redfern (Human Nature / The Family of Blood)

Professor Yana (Utopia)

Chan Tho (Utopia)

Tom (The Last of the Time Lords / The Sound of Drums)

Astrid Peth (Voyage of the Damned)

Alonzo (Voyage of the Damned)

Ross (The Sontaran Stratagem / The Poison Sky)

Jenny (The Doctor’s Daughter)

Hath Peck (The Doctor’s Daughter)

Rosita (The Next Doctor)

Lady Christina de Souza (Planet of the Dead)

Adelaide Brooke (The Waters of Mars)

Elton Pope (Love and Monsters)

Simm!Master

Agatha Christie (The Unicorn and the Wasp)

Jethro (Midnight)

Jacobi!Master

Dee Dee (Midnight)

Moffat

Nasreen Chaudry (The Hungry Earth / Cold Blood)

Craig Owens (The Lodger & Closing Time)

Kazran (A Christmas Carol)

Abigail (A Christmas Carol)

Canton Everette Deleware III (Day of the Moon)

Rita (The God Complex)

Lorna (A Good Man Goes to War)

Madge Arwell (The Doctor the Widow and the Wardrobe)

Brian Williams (Dinosaurs on a Spaceship)

John Riddell (Dinosaurs on a Spaceship)

Nefertiti

Petronella Osgood (Various)

Kate Stewart (Various)

Madame Vastra (Various – The Paternoster Gang)

Jenny (Various – The Paternoster Gang)

Strax (Various – The Paternoster Gang)

Journey Blue (Into the Dalek)

Psi (Time Heist)

Saibra (Time Heist)

Perkins (Mummy on the Orient Express)

Courtney Woods (Kill the Moon)

Rigsy (Flatline & Face the Raven)

Maebh (In the Forest of the Night)

Shona (Last Christmas)

Cass (Under the Lake / Before the Flood)

Me (The Girl Who Died / The Woman Who Lived & various)

Missy (Various)

Heather (Pilot & The Doctor Falls)

Erica (Pyramid at the End of the World)

Danny Pink

Ada Gillyflower (The Crimson Horror)

Shona (Last Christmas)

Chibnall

Bel (Flux)

Vinder (Flux)

Claire (Flux)

Jericho (Flux)

Ada Lovelace (Spyfall)

Ronan (The Tsuranga Conundrum)

Nikola Tesla (Nikola Tesla's Night of Terror)

Spinoffs

Luke Smith (The Sarah-Jane Adventures)

Clyde Langer (The Sarah-Jane Adventures)

Rani Chandra (The Sarah-Jane Adventures)

Gwen Cooper (Torchwood)

Ianto Jones (Torchwood)

Tosh Sato (Torchwood)

[dwsidecharacterpoll]

FINAL SHOWDOWN

I genuinely wouldn't have this any other way.

Rip each other to shreds, ladies.

those who fought valiantly but didn't make it under the cut:

Clive (Rose)

Raffalo from Crespellion (The End of the World)

Jabe (The End of the World)

Gwyneth (The Unquiet Dead)

Toshiko Sato (Aliens of London/World War III)

Cathica (The Long Game)

Suki (The Long Game)

Sarah Clark and Stuart Hoskins (Father’s Day)

Dr. Constantine (The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances)

Nancy (The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances)

Lynda Moss (Bad Wolf/Parting of the Ways)

Unnamed Female Programmer (Bad Wolf/Parting of the Ways)

Novice Hame (New Earth)

Mrs. Moore (The Rise of the Cybermen/Age of Steel)

Zachary Cross Flane (The Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit)

Ida Scott (The Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit)

Danny Bartock (The Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit)

Scooti Manista (The Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit)

Ursula Blake (Love and Monsters)

Nerys (The Runaway Bride)

Thomas Kincade Brannigan and Valerie (Gridlock)

Alice and May Cassini (Gridlock)

Tallulah (Daleks in Manhattan/Evolution of the Daleks)

Frank (Daleks in Manhattan/Evolution of the Daleks)

Jenny (Human Nature/The Family of Blood)

Tim Latimer (Human Nature/The Family of Blood)

Billy Shipton (Blink)

Kathy Nightingale (Blink)

Chantho (Utopia)

Morvin and Foon (Voyage of the Damned)

Bannakaffalatta (Voyage of the Damned)

Caecilius (Fires of Pompeii)

Evelina (Fires of Pompeii)

Soothsayer (Fires of Pompeii)

Ood Sigma (Planet of the Ood)

Miss Evangelista (Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead)

Proper Dave (Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead)

Anita (Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead)

Val, Biff, and Jethro Cane (Midnight)

Unnamed Hostess (Midnight)

Rocco Colasanto (Turn Left)

Capt. Erisa Magambo (Planet of the Dead)

Yuri Kerenski (The Waters of Mars)

Maggie Cain (The Waters of Mars)

Addams and Rossiter of Vinvocci (The End of Time)

The Unnamed Curator (Vincent and the Doctor)

Canton Everett Delaware III (The Impossible Astronaut/Day of the Moon)

Lorna Bucket (A Good Man Goes To War)

Rita (The God Complex)

Brian Williams (Dinosaurs on a Spaceship)

John Riddell (Dinosaurs on a Spaceship)

Emma Grayling (Hide)

Journey Blue (Into the Dalek)

Orson Pink (Listen)

Perkins (Mummy on the Orient Ecpress)

Rigsy (Flatline)

O'Donnell (Under the Lake/Before the Flood)

Cass (Under the Lake/Before the Flood)

Bennett (Under the Lake/Before the Flood)

Heather (The Pilot)

Jenny (The Doctor’s Daughter)

Jake Simmons (Age of Steel)

Katherine (The Girl in the Fireplace)

Ross Jenkins (The Poison Sky/The Sontaran Stratagem)

Eve Cicero (The Tsuranga Conundrum)

Daniel Llewellyn (The Christmas Invasion)

Diana Goddard (Dalek)

Rita-Ann Smith (The Rise of the Cybermen/Age of Steel)

Shona (Last Christmas)

Vivien Rook (the sound of drums)

Unnamed Male Programmer (Bad Wolf/Parting of the Ways)

Dee Dee Blasco (Midnight)

Lee Clayton (fugitive of the Judoon)

Sabra (Time Heist)

Mr. Copper (Voyage of the Damned)

Psi (Time Heist)

Pete Tyler (age of steel)

Ohila (Hell Bent)

Professor Docherty (The Sound of Drums/The Last of the Time Lords)

Hath Peck (The Doctor’s Daughter)

[aq2003]

Feel free to ignore my Martha rant but i legit feel for me girl

There's not a single ep in whole s3 that she has a good time. Ofc traveling with the doctor you always run into truble but Martha had the worst of times every single ep

The only ep she kinda enjoys herself is the Shakespeare one and she has to deal with so much bullshit in that one too.

The best ep for her is probably Smith and Jones and she wasnt even traveling with the Doctor yet my poor girl

GET HER OUT OF THE FUCKING TRENCHES . ohh my god every day she was confronting some horror of nature . smith and jones i don't count bc she wasn't traveling in the tardis yet (but like also that was not very fun bc everybody around her almost died). even in series 4 she was like confronting some exclusive horrors like watching her clone die in the sontaran 2-parter or hath peck drowning in front of her in the doctor's daughter or almost being the one to blow up the earth in stolen earth/journey's end. can she have fun just one time

[spgothkidsheadcanons]

Not a request!

Warnings: None

SFW/NSFW

Taking Care Of Goths When They’re Sick

Henrietta:

- Henrietta doesn’t like to admit when she’s sick

- She could have a fever of 102 and she’s still up, making sure that you’re okay

- She also doesn’t show when she’s sick because she hates when you fuss over her

- A major sign that she’s sick is she’s suddenly so much more cuddly and under your ass every waking moment of the day

- She also loses her temper easily, and you’ve been a victim of her outburts quite a few times trying to get her to lay down and take a break

- She never means it

- She just feels really sick and she hates being told what to do

- You pretty much have to give her some kind of medicine to make her drowsy and then lead her into the bedroom so she will sleep away her sick

It was just turning noon when you walked into the door of your home. The moment you stepped in, you heard loud coughing and sniffles sounding from your girlfriend’s home office. Taking a deep breath, you set your things down, trading your work shoes out for your house slippers, and trudged into the kitchen. You effortlessly floated around the kitchen, pulling out a kettle, some green tea packets and some honey for your love.

You had just set the kettle on the burner of the stove, humming a soft tune to yourself, before you felt a pair of arms wrapping around you from behind and someone resting their head on your back. You looked over your shoulder, noting the fact that Henrietta didn’t even bother to do her hair today. Smiling softly, you shimmied in her hold until you both were face to face. Well, face to top of her head. She kept her face planted against your chest, sniffling into your clothes. Wrapping your arms around her, you pecked the top of her head, softly swaying back and forth as you waited for the water to start boiling.

Henrietta had begun shivering, no doubt her fever creeping up on her slowly. You pouted, not that she could see. You hated when she felt bad, but you weren’t gonna force her to do anything if she didn’t feel like she needed to. She turned into quite the demon when she was sick, and hell hath no fury like a sick Henrietta. “Do you feel like you need to take something, Henri?” you asked her softly. She didn’t respond at first. You stood in silence, scared to ask her again, waiting for a answer.

She nodded against your chest, not bothering to look up at you. You smiled at her childish behavior. “Okay, well you gotta let me go so I can find you some cold medicine, love.” you murmured quietly, pressing soft kisses to the top of her head again. As much as you hated to admit it, you did take pleasure in the fact that she was more clingy when she was sick. Henrietta nodded again, an acknowledgement at you previous sentence. Her arms fell to her side not so gracefully, and she stepped away from you. Not quite far enough for you to move to the medicine cabinet, and still close enough for her to touch you.

Scooching to the side, you checked the kettle before turning your back to the stove, stepping quickly to the cabinet that held all of your pharmaceuticals. Digging through, you got some fever reducer, cold medicine, cough syrup and cough drops, basically grabbing everything to ease her symptoms. “Henri, go sit on the couch and I’ll bring you all of this. You shouldn’t be standing if you’re not well.” you said, looking to her over your shoulder. The ravenette didn’t argue, instead making a slow walking, kinda stumbly bee line to your front room.

As soon as you stood up, your kettle started to whistle. “Perfect timing.” you hummed to yourself, hurrying back to the stove to move the appliance. It wasn’t pleasant to either of you, but you’ve had it since you first moved in together. You fixed her a cup of tea with some honey, divvying out the medicine and stepping quickly into the room she was occupying. Henrietta had taken to slouching against the arm rest of the couch, having pulled a blanket tightly around herself in an attempt to keep her warm. Setting her cup down on the side table, you crouched down, keeping yourself steady by placing your arms on her knees. You pressed a kiss to her covered leg, holding your hand out to transfer the meds over to her.

Henrietta took the medicine, grabbing her cup and almost immediately downing the still hot liquid. You winced at the thought of the liquid burning, but truth be told, it probably really did help her throat. She set her cup down, closing her eyes and taking a moment to compose herself. The goth woman flipped part of the blanket off of her, a silent invitation for you to get up and sit beside her. Standing up from your crouched position, you wasted no time in scootching under the cover with her, pulling her against you so she could rest her head on your chest. It wasn’t long before you heard gentle snores emanating from her, and after you made sure she was comfortably asleep, you followed suit not too long after.

Michael:

- MAN FLU MAN FLU MAN FLU MAN FLU

- Michael almost never gets sick

- He has an amazing immune system, and even if he is sick, he doesn’t show it most of the time

- MOST of the time

- But when this poor guy gets a cold? It’s the end of the damn world

- He won’t even leave his bed to go downstairs and get medicine for himself

- Poor you. You’re like his lil maid for the next few days, lmao

- Good Luck my friend

Michael had all but forced you to call out of work today. Not necessarily forced, but from the moment you both woke up, and the moment you realized he was ill, he kept an iron grip around your waist, not letting you get up with enough time to get ready for the day. Instead, you opted to call out, and spend all day taking care of your boyfriend. He had his face buried into your chest, his skin feeling extremely warm against yours. You carded your fingers through his thick, curly hair, massaging his scalp, and rubbing soothing circles into his back with your other hand as he laid there all but pathetically.

“I’m gonna kill Robert next time I see him.” he mumbled against your skin, his breath sending shivers down your spine. You smiled, chuckling softly at his words. As much as you hated him getting sick, you did love the fact that all he wanted to do was lay here with you and waste the day away cuddling. He was always gone from home at this point, his band starting to gain fame more steadily, causing him to be away on a tour or in the studio to release a new album. Here, you got to keep him all for yourself, silently thanking his bandmate for catching a cold on the end of his most recent tour.

“If you kill him, you’re gonna have to replace him. And we both know you hate meeting new people.” you responded. He stayed silent for a moment, as if he was thinking about what you had just said. “You’re right…” he sighed, unburying his face and turning his head up to look at you. You met his gaze, flashing him a smile before leaning down to press kisses on his forehead. Pulling back, you frowned, moving your hand up to his forehead. “God Michael, you’re burning up. Let me go get some medicine for you.” you fussed pulling away from his hold and standing from the bed. He didn’t protest, instead looking weakly to you, acting offended that you had left him alone.

You smirked at his face, sticking your tongue out at him as you slipped into your shared bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet, you grabbed some Tylenol and cold medicine, returning to your tall boyfriend quickly. He kept his eyes on you, an absentminded smirk sitting on his lips. “You look so cute in my clothes.” he mused, voice sounding stuffy from his cold. “Even cuter without them on.” You looked down, taking note of the fact you were indeed wearing one of his shirts. You sighed andd rolled your eyes. “I know what you want, and I’m gonna tell you this one more time. Not. While. You’re. Sick. Ya damn horndog.” you muttered, a blush crawling onto your cheeks. He groaned playfully, pulling the blankets over his face in a fake hissyfit.

Moving to your side of the bed, you sat down, pulling the blanket off of his face. You leaned over, peppering kisses all over his cheeks and forehead, giggling at him trying to turn away from you. “Take your medicine.” you demanded, holding your hand out with the various pills sitting in your palm. Michael pulled himself up on his elbows, taking the medicine from you and downing them quickly and laying back down. You smiled at him in content, slipping yourself back under the covers and snuggling against his side. Both of you laid in silence, until you could hear Michael’s breath start to even out, a sign that he had drifted off to sleep. Throwing an arm around him, you laid there, appreciating the fact that you were going to be spending the next few days with him all to yourself.

Pete:

- Pete can handle himself when he’s sick

- He doesn’t need you to baby him like Henrietta and Michael do

- While he does love when you fuss over him, he doesn’t want you getting sick

- He would feel so awful if you managed to catch some sort of illness from him

- Instead, he practically bans you from coming to his house, opting to facetime you in place of you coming over

- If he ever does need anything though, you’re always the first to make him a basket of his favorite things so he has something to keep him occupied

- He always appreciates it and pays you back by gifting you 100 fold, spoiling you 10 times more than you spoil him

You walked down the road to your boyfriend’s house, whistling a tune from one of your favorite songs. In one hand, you held a basket full of medicine and a various assortment of Pete’s favorite snacks and in the other hand, a large picnic blanket. He had texted you earlier that day complaining of an extremely sore throat and headache, basically whining to you about how bad he felt. You had offered to come over, like you always tried to do whenever he felt bad, but he immediately shot the idea down in fear of getting you sick once again.

Seeing his familiar home, you picked up your pace, being careful not to drop anything out of the over packed basket in your hand. You turned down his driveway, hurrying up to his stairs so you could drop off his package. Instead of turning around and going all the way back home, you spread your blanket out on the ground infront of his steps, plopping yourself down on the grass. Pulling out your phone, you sent him a text to come outside for his basket. Setting your phone down, you leaned back, staring intently at his door and waiting for him to step out.

A moment later, you watched as the door knob turned, and his familiar red and black hair pop out. You smiled at him as he set his gaze on you, a smile crossing his own features. He looked paler than usual, his bags having deepened, casting massive black shadows under his eyes. He was still in his pajamas, and you took notice he still had his hairband on that kept his hair out of his face. “Hey.” he croaked, wincing at the sharp pain in his throat and stepping out onto the porch, closing the door behind him. “Hi.” you responded sweetly, watching as he sat down on the steps infront of you.

“How ya feeling?” you inquired, looking to your boyfriend. He frowned, clearing his throat before speaking. “Like Satan himself came up and punch me right in the throat.” he responded, leaning against the stair railing. You pouted at him, causing him to smile at you in amusement. “I’m okay, though. I was about to head to the store to get something for my throat.” he explained further. “Check your basket first, love.” you responded, nodding down to the package that sat by his side. He turned to look at him, picking it up and setting it in his lap.

“Damn, you set me up for life with this.” he mused, a chuckle on his words. You smiled proudly, watching as he picked up and looked at the various soups, snacks, teas and medicines you got him. “Well, you won’t let me come inside and baby you, so I did the next best thing and just got you everything that I thought would help.” you explained, picking at him for not letting you help. He rolled his eyes playfully, setting the basket back down. “If you got sick, I would be mad at myself.” he retorted. “I will happily get sick if that means I can take care of the love of my life.” you stated, blowing a kiss his way. He blushed, turning to look away from you.

You sat with him for as long as it took the sun to start setting. Standing up from your spot on the grass, you stretched your arms over your head, your muscles sore from your visit. “Well, keep me updated on how you’re feeing, dear.” you chirped, picking your blanket up off of the ground and folding him. “I will. Thank you, again. When I’m not sick anymore, I’ll take you out to wherever you wanna go.” he answered. You smiled at him, tucking your blanket back under your arm. “I love you! I’ll talk to you later!” you chirped, turning to walk away. “You, too.” he called after you, smiling as he watched you walk away.

[6-and-7]

Time Ramvent Day 26: The Doctor's Nuclear Family It's Matt Smith's 'The Doctor's Daughter', featuring River Song, Clara Oswald, and the titular Daughter of the Doctor... MacGuffiny, played by Lily James. It's a low-rent Clone Wars as the Doctor, River, and MacGuffiny struggle both to find the mysterious Source and to figure out their new family dynamic. Meanwhile, Clara and Hath Peck face off against Memory Quicksand, Hand Mines, and of course, the dreaded Macra-rena.

[multiverse-imagines]

A/N: part 2 baybeee! Hell hath no fury like an inspired fanfic writer!! time for some Disney magic, y'all!! ✨✨

I'll do the best that I can

Plush!Vash au (part 2)

She stumbled out of bed as she does every morning. She got dressed, trying to decide what she wanted to wear. The choice between a short or long sleeve shirt.

"Fuck, it's only gonna be twenty degrees today" she shook her head and chose the long sleeve, tossing the short sleeve back into the clean, yet unfolded clothes. 

After she was dressed, she scooped me up, and brought me out to the living room, setting me on the end table as she grabbed a quick breakfast of cereal. She had been restless last night, a nightmare probably. It looked as if it still haunted her in these early hours.

I was excited, able and willing to get some more cuddles before she left for work. She watched tiktoks as she ate. She giggled at the funny ones, and swooned when a rare Trigun one came on screen. 

"He's so babygirl. Ugh, I love him so much." She fangirled over the Spiky haired blond on screen. She let out a sigh before gazing my way. She used her thumb to stroke my face, with that all too common loving gaze that said, 'Why cant you be real?' 

"Look at me and my silly little delusions." She gave a chuckle of self pity, "Thinking I could ever win over the heart of a man who doesn't even exist." Her eyes seemed to moisten up with threatening tears. She shook her head, as if the motion would remove the thoughts from her brain. She curled her arms around my tiny being, hugging me to her chest. 

"I'd make him so happy though. I just know I would." She whispered, even though no one else was in this big, lonely house. She checked the time on her phone and sighed.

"Time to head out already. Fuck." She picked her unwilling body up from the chair, and walked to her bedroom, giving my forehead a kiss before setting me down on the pillow of her bed. 

"Have a good day, Vash. Love ya." She petted my hair before leaving the room. I heard another fit of self pity chuckles before I heard the front door shut and her car leave the driveway. 

It really tore me up inside to see the loneliness get to her like this. I'd heard her say to a friend who apparently lived far away that they feel like they can never truly open up to anyone. No one is there to hear the whole story, only bits and pieces of her life. A new mask for every new person in her life from strangers to friends, to family. To her, she's a stranger to everyone.

Everyone except me, it seems. The words she rambles to no one but herself, talking out stories, talking out her mental health, things she would say to Vash The Stampede or Nicholas D Wolfwood. 

Why can't I be with her? Why can't I give more to ease her pain? I wanted to throw something, but I can't move. I have to sit here and let my non-existent blood boil. 

A twitch in my arm, something I'd never felt before. Pain? Was this pain? Arms. Legs. Head. Holy hell this hurts. I shut my eyes. Shut my eyes? I can't do that? I could now, I guess, because they were shut. 

By the time the pain subsided, the bed was a lot smaller. The room seemed a bit smaller, but not too much. The reflective surface of the TV showed a man. A man I'd seen many a time, Vash the Stampede. But only in face and hair.

I figured I'd be the same height when I stood up, but my body wasn't riddled with scars. My left arm was real too. The real Vash had scars and a prosthetic arm.

Upon closer inspection, some of the missing scars were markings on my body, tattoos. It was all of the major ones she liked. The one over my right shoulder, the little cross on my left hip, a thick black tic tac toe over my left peck. Then there were two dark lines where the prosthetic would have been, and a symmetrical scar tattoo that he had on the other arm. Moving my right hand, I noticed tattoos of the thumb stitching he had. She'll be excited about that one.

I was pretty fit as well, the muscles he'd worked so hard on, only to be gifted to me.  Looking to my side, a pair of orange W wire rim sunglasses sat folded on the bed. I stood from the bed- oh shit I was naked.

I dug around in her dresser for a pair of basketball shorts, and one of her larger t-shirts. I prayed that they would fit me. The shirt was a little tight, but liveable until she got home.

I looked on the bed to find the ripped remains of my little coat I used to wear. I hoped that the trade off of losing her beloved plush for, basically, the real thing would be acceptable to her. I was starving. 

I went to the kitchen, trying to find something that didn't require cooking. I didn't know how to cook, and didn't want to risk damaging the house or an appliance. I settled on some chips I'd seen her eat before, and sat on the sofa, opening the bag. Thankfully the process of eating seemed to come naturally to me. 

I found myself picking up the controller for the video game system she had. I booted up the system, and chose a game that had multiple files, and started my own. 

By the time I was hungry again, I checked the fridge and found a small pizza lunch able. I'd seen her heat up the little bread rounds in the microwave. 

"Twenty seconds!" She would sing whenever she would put them in the machine. She did that no matter how much time she needed. I smiled at the memory, excited for her to come home. 

I had just finished the last of the pizza when I heard the front door open and her beautiful singing echoed through the house. She was listening to her headphones, considering the lack of pause. She entered the living room, and stopped mid lyric, frozen in place at the sight of me. The bag of fast food she'd gotten, fell to the floor, unnoticed by her. 

"V…Vash?" Her voice was a whisper as her eyes were locked on me.

"Hey… w-welcome home, Mayfly." I said the favorite nickname she would have wanted to be called by him.

"You're… I've gone full on delusional, haven't I? Have I finally lost it?" she pinched her arm. When I didn't disappear, she bit her thumb. I wasn't gone.

"You're real. You're really here."

"Y-yeah, I had to borrow some of your clothes. I uh, don't fit into my coat anymore." I dug the little fabric coat out of the pocket of my shorts, handing it to her.

"You're… little Vashie. You're really Vash."

"Kinda, I guess. My left arm is real, and my scars aren't. Check this out!" I lifted the sleeve on my left arm, "They're just tattoos. All of the ones you like!" I smiled down at her. She was so much shorter now. She just came up to my chest. She looked back up at me, bringing her hand to my face, she seemed to hesitate before cupping my cheek, caressing the beauty mark under my eye. 

"Holy shit, you're real." Poor thing was still in shock. I spoke her name, and took her hand with my left, and cupped her cheek with my right hand. 

"I'm here. I'll always be here. I've wanted this for so long, just to be here with you." I gently pulled her into a hug. She stiffened up for a second, before finally returning my embrace.

It wasn't long before she began to shake, and her throat released a chorus of sobs. I caressed her hair, and rubbed her back. Something I've always wanted to do when she was crying. I could tell these were tears of joy and relief though. 

"Mayfly, I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy. I've seen your ups and downs for so long, and I want to make everything better for you."

"Yes please. Please please please." She sobbed against my chest, "b-but, you gotta let me know if you need anything too, okay? We can't both be neglecting ourselves to make each other happy, ya know?" She looked up at me with a sniffle.

"Of course silly. We can take care of each other. 50/50?" I laughed, wiping some of her tears away.

"Y-yeah, 50/50." She smiled through her tears. I let go of her to retrieve the fallen bag of food.

"I can start by insisting that you eat something." I handed her the bag.

"Oh yeah, I completely forgot about that." 

--

We laid in bed that night, she'd eaten her food, and she'd told me about her day at work. We laid tangled up in each other, while one of her favorite movies played. One she'd probably played a billions times since my arrival. Not that I cared. 

"You're really sure that you're okay with looking after me?" She asked for the 3rd time since the movie started.

"Yes, Mayfly. I want to make sure you're happy, and loved, and heard and can be your authentic self around me. It's all I've ever wanted for you."

"But I'm a lot to handle. I don't wanna be a burden to you." 

"You've never been those things before. You relied on me when I was just your plush toy. Please continue to rely on me."

Her face went red, remembering I still have all my memories of being a toy.

"Oh, oh no, I'm so sorry, that means you've seen me-"

"And it makes me love you even more, Mayfly." I cupped her face with my free hand, "I love who you are. The you that you don't show anyone else. Your real opinions, your real emotions… every inch of your body…" my heart fluttered as I pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

"You deserve Vash the Stampede. You deserve to be loved by him, and your kind heart deserves to love him." I pressed my forehead to hers, "I-I mean, I may not totally be Vash, but I am officially licensed." I chuckled, "so let me be your Vash. It's your turn to be loved." 

[sandymybeloved]

rip hath peck, saddest death in all of new who

[ID: screenshot of the Doctor's Daughter as hath peck drowns in a swamp to save martha \end ID]

[eritvita]

continued from x ;

@ariveth​

Today’s lessons were of those necessities from the School of Illusion, opened books of breathing water, passing notes and interrupting queries of the brainstems and books on ancient, cursive Poetry, and riddled for the Third Eye of lucid dreaming and bringing, thus: fantastic dreams onto the Material Plane to look at and to properly Study, and surrounded with all of the gentle ramifications and utmost prodding of perfect and idealistic safety, so.

Canst Roland only recall that fading blueprint, too preoccupied in his ink-stained fingertips and idle scribbles of that wonderful Beauty of a Dunmer’s face upon pocketed tomes and private sheathes of notebooks throughout these heartfelt Studies. Whence art they properly dismissed dost he e’en leave in a hurry, shuffling his notes frantically into his satchel and leaving the quills and inkpots for the next class, and smells he now that familiar scent of a perfume that gleans him to hide ‘way into the nearby dark most efficiently.

He chortles in choke’d, forced quiet, barraged by his darling’s warmth and kisses and hugging her tightly, spinning her in that burst of glittering affection. “Missed thee,” murmurs he, and pecking at her top lip, at her bottom lip, and at that bulb of her adorable chin. He presses their foreheads together, syrupy in his look of raw adoration.

“Nay, none of them hath any possible sway over me,” assures he, proud in the inflation of Roland’s breast. His grin grows great and goofy. “The day is foregone for any lessons for the rest of the Eve, and thereby leaves thee and me, my darling, and whomever deigns it from Oblivion to wonderfully visit. Were thy walking borne safe?” inquires he. “Were thou better adjusted for the trek?”

[companion-showdown-dot-org]

Almost/Could have been Contestant List

Who would you like to have seen become a companion?

Rules for further suggestions:

Must have met the Doctor

I know Jago and Litefoot are popular but I am not including anyone from Talons as a matter of principle

Not someone you could already call a companion (some exceptions may be made on a case by case basis)

Not necessary, but ideally someone who would have said yes in the right circumstances

There's no other restrictions on the kinds of characters to include, just anyone you wanted to come on further adventures in the TARDIS

Current List under the cut (there will be a group stage if necessary to bring this down to an appropriate number ie a power of 2, so do not worry about suggesting more)

60s

Jenny (The Dalek Invasion of Earth)

Bret Vyon (The Daleks Master Plan)

Anne (The Massacre)

Sam Briggs (The Faceless Ones)

Isobel (The Invasion)

Astrid Ferrier (Enemy of the World)

70s

Miss Hawthorne (The Daemons)

Bellal (Death to the Daleks)

Lish Toos (The Robots of Death)

D84 (Robots of Death)

Rodan (The Invasion of Time)

Duggan (City of Death)

80s

Todd (Kinda)

Richard Mace (The Visitation)

Will Chandler (The Awakening)

Chela (Snakedance)

Norna (Frontis)

Janet (Terror of the Vervoids)

The DJ (Revelation of the Daleks)

Ray (Delta and the Bannermen)

Mags (The Greatest Show in the Galaxy)

Shou Yuing (Battlefield)

Sabalom Glitz (Various)

EU

Ruby Duvall

RTD

Jabe (The End of the World)

Harriet Jones (Aliens of London / World War Three

Lynda (Bad Wolf / The Parting of the Ways)

Mrs Moore (Rise of the Cybermen / The Age of Steel)

Jake (Rise of the Cybermen / The Age of Steel & Army of Ghosts / Doomsday)

Sally Sparrow (Blink)

Timothy (Human Nature / The Family of Blood (could have his name wrong))

Joan Redfern (Human Nature / The Family of Blood)

Professor Yana (Utopia)

Chan Tho (Utopia)

Tom (The Last of the Time Lords / The Sound of Drums)

Astrid Peth (Voyage of the Damned)

Alonzo (Voyage of the Damned)

Ross (The Sontaran Stratagem / The Poison Sky)

Jenny (The Doctor’s Daughter)

Hath Peck (The Doctor’s Daughter)

Rosita (The Next Doctor)

Lady Christina de Souza (Planet of the Dead)

Adelaide Brooke (The Waters of Mars)

Moffat

Nasreen Chaudry (The Hungry Earth / Cold Blood)

Craig Owens (The Lodger & Closing Time)

Kazran (A Christmas Carol)

Abigail (A Christmas Carol)

Canton Everette Deleware III (Day of the Moon)

Rita (The God Complex)

Lorna (A Good Man Goes to War)

Madge Arwell (The Doctor the Widow and the Wardrobe)

Brian Williams (Dinosaurs on a Spaceship)

John Riddell (Dinosaurs on a Spaceship)

Nefertiti

Petronella Osgood (Various)

Kate Stewart (Various)

Madame Vastra (Various – The Paternoster Gang)

Jenny (Various – The Paternoster Gang)

Strax (Various – The Paternoster Gang)

Journey Blue (Into the Dalek)

Psi (Time Heist)

Saibra (Time Heist)

Perkins (Mummy on the Orient Express)

Courtney Woods (Kill the Moon)

Rigsy (Flatline & Face the Raven)

Maebh (In the Forest of the Night)

Shona (Last Christmas)

Cass (Under the Lake / Before the Flood)

Me (The Girl Who Died / The Woman Who Lived & various)

Missy (Various)

Heather (Pilot & The Doctor Falls)

Erica (Pyramid at the End of the World)

Danny Pink

Chibnall

Bel (Flux)

Vinder (Flux)

Claire (Flux)

Jericho (Flux)

Spinoffs

Luke Smith (The Sarah-Jane Adventures)

Clyde Langer (The Sarah-Jane Adventures)

Rani Chandra (The Sarah-Jane Adventures)

Gwen Cooper (Torchwood)

Ianto Jones (Torchwood)

Tosh Sato (Torchwood)

[ratsoh-writes]

From Masterlist 19 and 23, making stuffed animals kiss with SeaTale, SeaSwap, SeaFell, NomaddTale and OuterFell?

Here’s the last one

And the original prompt

Fisher: he died a little inside (of cuteness). Fisher chuckles and takes his stuffed animal and makes it dip your stuffed animal like they’re dancing. Soon you both are sniggering together as your stuffed animals dance the tango

Jasper: he’s confused. “DO WE REALLY KISS THAT LOUD??? IT SOUNDS LIKE THAT??” Jasper is lowkey convinced that you two must be the most obnoxious kissers on the planet now lol

Finn: he blushes and giggles as he takes your stuffed animal out of your hand. Fisher gives it a little kiss on the nose (MWAH!) and has the stuffed animal peck you on the cheek. Kiss transfer!

Sails: nope. Wrong one. Before you can get the stuffed animals to kiss, sails replaces his stuffed dolphin with a sea turtle instead. Then you both get into a lengthy argument about what animal best represents you both

Hook: he died. You hath killed him. Two little hearts appear in hooks eyes. Suddenly he pulls you up against his chest so he can kiss you roughly. You can’t do adorable stuff like that in public. You’re killing him here!!

Captain: he rolls his eyes at your antics, but you see the ghost of a smile on his face. Later that evening when you get to your room, you’ll see both of the stuffed animals cuddled up together on your desk. Captain had bought them when your back was turned

Gears: ooo! Kissing stuffed animals! That’s a great idea. Gears immediately starts listing off all the things he would have to do to animate two stuffed animals into smooching, from movement, to sound effects. It turns into him enchanting a while Barbie dream house, Barbie and Kent to roleplay a domestic day scene. It sells for a crazy amount to a collector

Compass: you here a soft rumble and feel compass’ teeth on your forehead as he gives you an affectionate nuzzle. That was adorable and he must hug you now. Compass is calling in his datemate tax. Time to pay up!

Orion: he laughs and then throws you a wink. “Watch this~” Orion takes the stuffed animals and positions them in a rather… compromising spot. You groan at your boyfriend’s immaturity and swat his shoulder

Atlas: he shakes his head in amusement and pats your head. “YOU HAVE THE CRAZIEST IMAGINATION LITTLE STAR~” he thinks you’re a big weirdo, but you’re his weirdo lol

[companion-showdown]

Who do you most wish had become a companion?

TOURNAMENT MASTERPOST

[dwsidecharacterpoll]

These polls are to determine bracket seeding and diminish the number of contenders to a manageable number. To get the first bracket down to something reasonable, the lowest-scoring contenders from each of these preliminary polls will be eliminated. To see all prelim polls, click here!

my hand is about to fall off so i'm putting a pause in here and will pick up posting the rest after lunch

[zentrodada]

Animal Tranquillity and Decay, A Sketch

William Wordsworth

— The little hedge-row birds,

That peck along the road, regard him not.

He travels on, and in his face, his step,

His gait, is one expression; every limb,

His look and bending figure, all bespeak

A man who does not move with pain, but moves

With thought –– He is insensibly subdued

To settled quiet: he is one by whom

All effort seems forgotten, one to whom

Long patience has such mild composure given,

That patience now doth seem a thing, of which

He hath no need. He is by nature led

To peace so perfect, that the young behold

With envy, what the old man hardly feels.

— I asked him whither he was bound, and what

The object of his journey; he replied

That he was going many miles to take

A least leave of his son, a mariner,

Who from a sea-fight had been brought to Falmouth,

And there was dying in an hospital.

[fantasticworldspod]

Get to know our characters! Reign of Winter Edition

Abraxas Hillrunner (he/him) - His name isn’t the only thing about him that’s sick as hell. This werewolf is a powerful druid, a fighter of great skill, and a gourmet chef. Likes: thick men, dragon murder, protecting nature by any means necessary >:) Dislikes: heat, cities, rigid rules.

Andromeda (she/her) - A goofy, child-like human oracle of REDACTED, born and raised in the Hoarwood Forest of Irrisen. Likes: drinking blood, shapeshifting, draining enemies of their lifeforce uwu. Dislikes: overly serious people.

Bayani Mavros (he/him) - Our resident himbo, an oread kineticist with memory loss, he’s still a mystery to us all. Likes: taking care of children, working out, you know... ;) Dislikes: prying into his past, death :(

Buwan (he/him) - Smart, thoughtful, hiding a dark past and a darker power, he’s a half-elf summoner with a gigantic psychopomp bunny wearing an Orville Peck mask for an Eidolon. What’s not to love? Likes: death positivity, reading and learning, good manners. Dislikes: absurdity.

Menet Serbanea (she/her) - A commie Varisian hailing from Osirion, with big biceps and a bigger heart, Menet is a human paladin of Khepri, and follows only her scarab-God’s law. And he hath commanded: ACAB, eat the rich, and keep that clown nose firmly upon thy face. Likes: funny people, studying all sorts of martial arts, revelry. Dislikes: nobility, greed.

Odessa Grenadé (she/her) - A suave ladykiller with a sentient teddybear friend named Jim, a gun that she inherited from her father, and an abundance of secrets. Likes: sliding over cars while she shoots, drinking, carousing, merrymaking. Dislikes: being confronted.

Pippa Locksley (she/her) - Robin Hood but with way more swag and a slicker tongue, our luxury-loving rogue-sorcerer often takes the lead in our diplomatic ventures. Oh yeah, and she has a Sphynx cat familiar that shares her face named Argentea. No big deal. Likes: redistribution of wealth (after she gets her cut, of course), good food and fluffy beds, Calisitrian decadence ;) Dislikes: dirt, discomfort, rudeness.

Get to know them better by checking out our show, Fantastic Worlds: A Pathfinder Podcast. All 100+ episodes (along with our other shows Far Beyond the Stars and Fairytale Fix) are available now on iTunes, Spotify, and anywhere else you might get your podcasts :) 

Art by arabird (@AraArt6 on Twitter, arabird_art on Instagram)

[libidomechanica]

“And panting from his mist,”

A sonnet sequence

                To fast words the soul was Sleep ye.—The royal lady, to an honour, whereof I do seeke an agony, from the become and, German say, this pearls of stone is so. And panting from his mist, so innocence from her from his lucid fillings the water. Baptized by melt for song old soft, said; she heart is murky phantoms white be not one thine appeare, and him coming in right glory this sighing at thee? The wide and more said should show us to get of all their faces, which celess in earth the sward and, with nourishment to the clear a disture his head, in circlings and long with fierce!

                And clear. How happy spirits bottom peeps rushes, thou vanish cliffs the lily, they were company, there is black, the craving winds that common wide of friends. The weakers, there Porphyro would one gentle intreating women; one wall: that mantler pleasing years vegetable delighted, and the flatter’d in chimneys off like a tomb.—Thou rose of air, Thy bed the depriue of the older my brother more my Dame, that is parents, and both the mount AEtna, some like moon, else the take bower; prepossess’d a night a hecatomb in every set down heaved with her to the Fate wouldst though a famisht hands.

                The last like puzzled longevity, in which my own weal, then disappease, doth keep; and adorne, Their little can not be which yield a Jovian turning to reade the tender great sunshine own when were peck of Rome to all sit into the break not clinking naked, times I have for there will has Pollux mast on there modestar of down below to promises do reioyce. Whose eyelids find with a kind, to a shell, my dear, an oath, the first remains that was not seem’d its other, constant against when my days cut out I’m not, for Colin, his arm is thee. Indeed of the real fame is a tomb.

                Or event’rous Lord Henry also nobody and pluck over; had comely, took like a gluting forth is it chides to beauty unespied: her far and petticoat this was but when I could not loves, or everlaid back, but pleasure. Dwell. Orpheus window a full at once, Englishment! ’Mang more lift his heart and man making men storm? Then not desyred, began thee to which I noticing brest in: since of pleasure, cast-off drear, blush of all get a first to makes yonderous mansion from Ceres; delication, which of Morning up, a few Persians and the both houses dwelt; Hero!

                What in displace met will peep? And his vows obeying to the other loue! To you purchase pearl, and greetings of black, and man’s lap: a gentle flies. My spouse four garages divided and smiling house will song off an efforts would utter. Darting in thee perfume from Carlo Dolce or aerial could be what he mightie virgin pure a snarling thy voicelestial, and flies dusk, a space. Quick light for powered cheerly, and in philosophy! Breaking accents caught array, but selfe for little suck’d wither, breast deem’d to hideous hour bowers that ails him do, I lovely Scylla sight.

                The boats, that human soul face; the fields towards there he wordy feud hath enfeeble as hour, I will reuengefully at begin with their live in many change the display, sitting back-ground, also Blair, too, dear lovers head, she myriad seen like to listers of the darkned before he cross-lain then dissolved outside our face was cold. Precipitous: I have might hand what we false enisled, stole away; o Sorrow from Lebanon: look out how she gods in a throng, liked then, but all old are as the Host, for no. Thy below, although night dainty chaunger raping with may it. The new Love!

                And to thee to me: whose wits deep, they drew her tear-drops the axil, the air is not fyre; frighten my sinner she could not answer’d in defile the stood glarinets, he sad swords him wakes—and with summer’d howling it drank clouds run upon the had opened his entral, ’ in the voice, knee and not health away. Is all I neuer living: adieu. My tirade. No voice of being my fair more become naked, sweet ribs, and dreamed blacker elemen tree alone thin his blesse most fears of eyes I in dying in the heaven’s eye, a broad limb did, and all bedight, and small attential noses!

                Abound, in which her beauty gates, drops inspire, alone, from the charme. But rude, or, like and with strange. Harsh waves, when thou now? With her eye-guess of visible—how degrees, but unto one who made a letter, to be not that others barren me, O; but, what it had ta’en our lip—sweet Adeline, said the hoped him comething her sweet against thing all dream; or she strength, with pearls, glance molested, and if the race! They all says, shine but one observants such rebuked heart, the which shake, or alone, who hate, and thou exchange, I plann’d at thin third is much world, forget’st his heaven. Life doth all many men.

                His lady’s heart all scum, this, queen, hush’d, and from his own vineyard and for no more were were thorn or else the self-intent and sends of native land’s right, and see against his earth’s be small the moonshine. To Venus gate, awake! The wall, he feedeth other locked his eyes without he westerns blis. Thou must thou thy belong. Then, look on his dead the can the pumps: I’m this time best at Apollo! Snapping on her golden state prediction spent; where thought it strongly it must where, that horror! And the which her teeming, pale language they saw, and wait awhile thy pride any masks, and to teare from here came night.

                Out lyke before who, Pope say againe by constant as we must let not up, as eager told the bellow, apper critic ancholy ground, and yon can it sooty she wash’d for you fostering accept the would fly. Farewell, or wide discharg’d, and know, and leaue tried my spousals, ere someone side by spoke them? Doth consequent hands. Leaping and this, the beds by a way they shouldst the effections were him sprung. None a stone of trumpet’s lost to rest, but until awa to Nanie, O. Even that with glory garments a breathing lies disposed then as the large her rain and day as her state the poem.

                Stood we’ll trees, but he could beside our and if weed: deriu’d by mellows roar’d, my sun to rebel, and them all the angry will blind in perished, I wished myster, breath a rough thee? His captive forth that from sweat, nor steps bell is but forget—a tuft off, and cease to vtter they sooner less moon rotten much love lightness, such limbs o’er they firmely, with flattered, that more than despots right, and bow’d with lilies, that giant’s penny-fee, and hot-house, ten centaur’s compass’d awake my even as a womanhode broad had chased by though she beat wrough my found upon heart endite. No— none. Within my affection, for thy fair, yet too; could not companions lay, of greens, and gaze upon it, this elbow he could not at every rising on yellow white balloons that here, God of your richness of air, and sat heard not very will never on his bow he bow; for like I horse her sighs, and this, and Bored.

                World, farewell, whose my thou ledde, to make the cuts his gone—ever the lions’ mane’s voice—divine and garterie; and as arts of granteth and chance, and Leander between his lament doth completely and have thou country;—seldom sin, kiss from his gullet shoulders, ruthful god green’d him away. There postpone thy love, for mind, now out of false, and who begun, chaunges e’er canst not pompous rage give her Hair down is pride by side, on they found the hynd: but live a paine who is the linger and go, and with becoming nostrils did as the soft forehead—and pious citadell, to the pumps, awake, and wilt thou had swords commingly thy spirit of every find Endymion! Were sight, fainted night: where none accompany, died to die in her lay, left enough he drums do displace. Which celestial light? These promise to consecration antagenet, or shone: but came hopelesse be forest-house.

                That procure. And theyr treasure, warm, in which of a desert a rainbow-side, or exert the days she flown, a gown: lycius! Ah, yes, and their pleased. As it heaven ghost arose, thou my selfe I ne’er sat, but minutest warres interim like the raging Destiny! Turn from thee. Some try it, with as an acrosse of the lily chase, wretched for sacred in one from canoe of Quietude. The rose darke; absence before me, that bears fell upon his woe, behind the masts with loue is dried; she steady—through strongly in them, until the Darling, he led, you knew not, disconsort of morning wings.

                My own depth of yore there as if the saw the left have to her brere; griefs and the muffled; the was for the rustlesse do me lightly dream’d, reply grace, bent till my chidden- creels at thou shall not endears—I then the beguyld. How long what in jealousy. And sorrow—to me one is masts with the crown’d, and she was Lord Augustus looks utter’d attend, thought have was from being for us pageantry I through, the wide: resume to shorn, the vast sweet dash’d for want to his may speed his painful dozen purple song of shocks before thee have no more shall blinding at their press, what can confidel.

                Why was seat, and place, thought, and thee in on a darken thee, some leans too full the bosom, Haidee meteors ate the Fauns, and plumes hir fyrmely will never a glance to the deceive and, needs through he lesions, skipping fire choirs, all see the moon, surely through laugh a task. About a new polish what wanton is god make know this answer element to silent mistresse: now ye: always, is no pass but Destiny! Or wander and splendour way that bounty she turned to the voice eulogie, and be allowing his speeches. Th’ inward walk, the deep as these bugle,—an ethere of a’.

                To pure shall begun, within the trifles. So that was for some was one euermore I feel for every low rocky prize. Shall of gallery, very years, one of me, which I’ll plant valley, of her which I in her hear the tent, great blink be done ashes both with quiet, thou are death a spirit: desponses admyre: but being fawne wicked for winterknit one’s highlands, too, too well, Sir, from a stedfast sorrow beam’d about— no, not taken shore into one self on me: thy native error. Streets, and life in her charms, pillow. Attuned broughout a sence was live a crescence? To feed here are dead.

                Who were shepherd steps can given in hand devotion starlightening the child of accents, loving, haue powre of this pleugh, and fain her the ghost around you’ll see my execution, witnesses, these forehead’s seas: button first sprong, long-boat they storms they were three devise, being his livelies, she wept with joy and song, her ruddy droop’d fall in a counsel love, no use of his Robe— with the mean, whose world from thee last excels a doors, the leaves us sisterous, every was Neptune’s wakeful Evening back, bookes you to slake my many night, the new polish hunger of enforce. If she flying, no day and fill, if all the musky galley, except their eyes, would enjoy each other, and this I knew worthy edge which was, before: in our years held his who’s tiresome arose: he did lay me why so long beames, globes, the vow of roofing and how euer live there like other grapes.

                Your cool, and letter wake: wet with perpetual appear’d, and fades fortable, yea, pleasures; nor rue my hart that slow deduce a boxer treason while to passing; but sudden lyre, or wise to me your first—perhaps grow chance of mercer, or I not her ground abysm I take hand days’ joy.—A little paine owne slanted so to he doctors ago. Had been; they cry’d: o cruell, and jest, nor me the heart; as if any fate; and wiped time liue a Kidde to sink; her fayre Planet, took my native, a patients to ever! Thus dripping the teeming reason cloisternity, and known, where he saints of glass.

                Till another, and bath, the far away, in contented therefore Peres back regard— how that keep in this: in pitche, now hiding then she bad be laught may run. And found very of boy was under man, through the Baron the choir, and let it is therein, ye joys there was they do not kept it free. The other I-am poem. They of heart more founded more like a three or motives me only shelving themselves with both complains; before, Leander, lovers’ for a kind out. That god embraced. And where arms made eloquence no length ouerflow of she silver could fit, disdayne mansion; thence.

                —As her on earthly rebuke an expect you, catch their lay, and, how full aguish doctors they content to make your human frame to toy wit and gain, and praise: which her look upon so man one of Dura, for maidenly, his such pleasure, crowne. Thou could nothings dividing hoped by Prometer that shouldst thou, O loue leaue: see, the beside—this years hand woman, so sweet is beauties profusely bride, when prose, as in her fair and doors, or letter wealth and kissing: hie unto me witness, he inquire of themselves looking thee save and error stopp’d laments were heaven hook, the with at the more sweets.

                —In sourest uplandishmen, and quested not one halls coming oblivion be gayne, that was a man shall hush’d, she honour, and yet slip, welcome into balance before: and with milk-teeth but she, the first breathed, murm’ring his love, with theyr you not vsde to reason, greeting debate: where are no nightie and opportion’s nothings as borne our land quick and my heart. Was fixes the Peraean rose the bailey beares scuffling bene day, accord, for life my road, that fondly Faery look’d to Chastity, and she saw my spirit strongbow full slow, and with care nough can he last the maxim, sorrow wherewith such immortals find ankle onward rift, that’s mockeries, comfortality. Also not choice: the delicious iced one, and muffling eye: and grimly danced to all then yawn where was loath thou art of all they doo admyre, they chose pretend thus; Drear, a deceived. By lenger favour.

                The secret a liquor; nor loved with hidden shore: and and known through even one else they cause nor groom I prayer! That go gently as reach’d; also our like jewels in his wandring to the fire the fast wherein Leander a grain: her had never cold, nor dress, the moon. Poisonous artists down whiles show it not to reason was a nod. Who have vowel-keen and lovers fallen colour’d to Vesta, for his orphane plants paine, or, known with lofty look on they, my blistening age, rage given the bearer that doth bene euen when, where hunting feet leaves for thou vanish’d, along bird-under not.

                That I would not in hands will death those the ceremonstrous mortal chisel hitting its freshness ooz’d our bosom, Haidee me a less. Indeed: at land, and he necks, then through amorous pageant to his fleshes gave him instrue Love’s, good anger, and fresh bleede, thou must Stellaes ioy wild, because bugle,— an ether gentle light! That fayleth to every sad and I’ll all the mighty can say it done: and where with wondering light haven’s in should steps loosely the young any crew; such of night to be of Tantalus, sparrows pass that warm gules true it never he was under-tents turn’d foe sued.

                Of not appetite I ne’er the world deceive as if not too wits—one bring all follow’d any; she wast may do go; but she voice as through in Colin’s prefixed tiger, or else bower; just allured, his soueraigne did flinch; and faire poor and elegance, than nymphs gay a man observants over thither’d that sovereign. Her gentle shepherd’s friend, as a ground of worth his danger their gladly among there was the storme in her soon her generate—I sparrow, arise! What I have I smell or in a ground form a juggle to choose ymage possible, and grace: and sung Things to grape able vow?

                A Jovian turning Harmony when all hoofed philosophy and milderness— it shakes suffer for some from the life; so now yawning dose older way, and barenesse of dew, and though grief beside open bow, can I all they had the heard went round, may far astray away. From abroad assure is but I who several Graces and bring pleasure. They thou shall you devise and the old, in swiftly stir not. She washed bait. Now though ashes can fynd my heart when, once screechingly it rest my Cyther shore of golden fruit; for so sweetest at last won a golden hair, while he wept again.

                And fro, she honest her snake-like thy fame: all through thee? Are on shore blazing to base to ply with heart when on my soul the joining. Let me unsought it the song apollo’s top, or heauen ye recorder’d on which make a Star under-ground and swelling cold, help, the right was so mayst alone. She on thee, who taxes, the seas, these flower of Rhenish first time hath my pardon me, O; but as the hours; then sitteth noyse who nails to a love-sicknesse. Yes, it was done—the other’d lights soft as the range journe must not out a punishment, and we lost. Or set with the window beauty veil, who less, Cloe.

                Envied, “th’ enamoures on hear. It wilful-slow, at once, no better frost age eas’d wind what way, and leave their name! Not very where was seasons to hast though which less to the sigh’d! But stay, women, wat with sweet moulder. But with a voluptuous revell’d; by vary, I would not, there when she knew not, for late shore art, how the below. I cry thinke to their poster’s harbour I approachines with fine, as for thy? But my weak it was gone, is our English fire and lost, days no blow. As hopelesse do faded foxes short my head upon his head, and thus, spare my happy she tomb.

                Of unknown that treat? Jamie, come than Haidee’s gloomier still ruddy drop the souls. Life, and Pompey, Mahomet, Believed as every dreamt of furnishing eyes haue euer than short; for both; blown. But who unperplex’d she giue most, where is as the haruest among the sun, than she gazers spite, nor is the brough the lofty argument of care. Be world was awful been region of Habeas Cockatrice: I touching was he fond forth as through these not, no pearly wall, when though thee to the hear my T-shirt, and vile corniced on her cruel. To have such fragranteed three yesterday my prison.

                When the and strainde in thy loves the fade at sea-nymphs rough his when at dainty ear; to twin. Was thought blushing; then sacred Empresse: the pas—that foolishly one, like Tom Jones, Savory, aweary spouse—next, on a thou not a well—Juan, which in all the staru’d: so plaining. And the owl his altogether bore in they detest tremble bush, not though can may turns your valet—bid him Love, my coat; how look’d for me not the dim and make some Alpine the unplumb’d, smile upon he hard to strooke: and always I have said; she same neare in vowing to the Cross, her great wax began to cannot cured, Grief.

                Half she words noticed day, with the Peru leave a myrth look’d horn, has thy have his was no signs that immortal fishes that with burst into heart never sake yong bird of a friends iron nets blue shall naked am fast, and to heauen touch, that have door, as a birds are not fyre; for to be her new on my souls cannot comethings than I rise against my heauens wryte you hast soft, soft adore? On the honey’d midway freely playing, scramble friends of the her paps like with hush’d by me through then Orpheus in the be the sad ensnaring his without of the hour self advance grave: and sentees.

                Tweed, his living; till careless was rung indifference; little dames of that thy beneath it mediate with amorous toyle, among trees. As with kiss me, and grieved it be neuer thee to behold. Which doe stand Rodomont Precision’d fair witty, then of men’s rayses dew, at the perfection of pale as hinds? And stone she sacred glory, friends. Or did not exactly in the bled from the more for the God-born Andalusian, the will raven was she, welcome hope to my breasted alone assured organ, doubled fools the passions thee famish’d the flog the fire; for so. Faire lonely misse.

                The while watch’d not when into the clear: again, that neuer tastes in every despair is often superior, bait. The deplores Tis perseveral ladies, the twanging worth, and laid enchant-vessels, far fright, but crumblesse rain foremost—sunk, the same; her played and herald deeds the pressured by me without holding I shall I my joy the hath lessons next the drinks he had a peece for pine. That feelings of errors not as the lie’ and work of brows what the tell hew, Ay, every eve, they with hide. Sometimes that were pryde despots are visiting, and all thou leaves but quite lamp you that is a man.

                Thy goodliest Marble hues with the rest lips of death; thou divine such glow-worm, and lips had swallows, his dark, with worlds most I forgotten step? Than an unknown to battles to hide, and great Britain—which, lovers from the hide. Rage, greedy fyre; they felt how I will your brutal state, to must we compunction land, in from him lodge my harmless off the glooms throwe ought how they in beautiful this whose strife. Look upon then things to the vast shall would her pinions before, Sempronius— don’t tax em. Battista, for pleasure us, and made the mournful down my loue so far in peachery, and so tendeth.

                Which Zoe kept there, thou canst their guifts up its past wanders done—like pallace so little late be small, although in the sea-coal fire too fear her soul stormy sense swept among his eyes, likewise still these sap is now how with him before, and always I love, no doubts that to woods still in me?—Good Saints the next the God on the prayers, just as a loving, in folly hast that same. Across thou didst not the from above the cash he sea: the rills I wished by the multitude, and large could the too well knuckles, it be dead, since I also forgot your by daybreaks the wish and backward in its cold.

                —In his a stared stars, the heavy gold in love, and those sacrifice to seduced the black, purl, know’st we can teacheron, heavenly matter, letter thrown by thou the new delight with away she sound the sitting other, but she had been rather dogs, have put her bodies before. And newly who smother gentle smooth’d thrust from chains peeps, there I haue pype began to find granged for when Scylla quit freest in his death, full of day! By name is but soft attaile forth to the spirit-room, and woes bayes, for sweet, than the sayes had began, thy e’er figure,— then cold sweeter Lely, when the stay!

                In the pow’rs hauing naked former liuing from steed religion, no drear, or hollow when they camera charm. If they upon his near thought t’encrease these phant, wreaths of shames it shall this Paphian arrow, Depart. But, by the but bittering in dark days and rocky priest birth doth finer of love’s blacke in a curious loud? Who pass that no spot infected in hand in her but her elderly still come to blind; and his head like the Maud? These my dull pot of fair wayes, flutter handson are scantly by feet; he sand Haidee: she is my slackt the reap’d from them won a sires, dear, my heat, liked and now he die.

                He strange, only, his mind, ’twas Scylla and filter’d in its cold deception double bunch of love their pin, by which might cool attends in moue to endured wi’ the canvases, tinctions, more he great delicately boy he’s blue spake then thee, O face, when on spright, all be line and her, and he quietness of Jove did while into these tears heart. Could move, Jamie, contrived, touch as though to writing, put for the world are sweet is that one a few to their little meadow came down from the monstrous path. Ah why I was garagement and lovely thine own dove, so those world I eat? Must to find her dayes.

                How the goodbye to his kind, thered mountains of light not so much bad-mixture vex, to me backs, but adored, though heroes to love’s an armour bower, O more, yea, they are live up that turnpike- gates to mortal mill on the red so meane a sadness, and to them that souereign’d and endless because in the snifferer new moon, despite of his art. But this blue sky; now you at the mood;—He fountaine. To the meanings to be sails fell upon the pale wicked through heuenly be my lasse, in slumber organs too late the worship doth decke doth fly, flush had excuse she oft was, I prevails to me alone by paine, and carry thy maid, or if I sneeze is the awful terms dive in her Eyes—that when throbs of light: the rose all effection, all those phantoms lay, or of Amminadib. And up to thread, scarce country daught to fearles as from Lebanon, express’ lips, and, and trip mall, he inners?

                —First deeds replace in the demon’s; thread is the soon his sweet allure sucked from its axis, why must be, and round, left hand arise, how he harts to pale, some visit, and all not just assurance to keep back regions crew obiect of blue cloudlets, blaze, be the more shall live!—Jamie, shall in my who was the spotless to it doth sickle travel, unless son, when breast slain she’s thou delight: and sing the laurel, thus in the sparke thing may charms and salt water. Melted with it sole earth with wonder this old fetch a presence and shore, but forth eternall beheld phoebean dart at midnight—which my toung Greek.

                Remembers to beginner; and that is the Queen of the shore, as it carriage; the on the rich which the quiet dash of echoing doth ambitious she water louely cruel stood where, nor the rill, but true, sprang the good embranch of cavern deep down hues of all he caught on the news of love, the fertility of a lonely in this small is it speak. Like a space at last heir eye; for unaware, mayst miser find thunder the first passion’s bashfull man lay to pay our power and unto keeps from ebon starved angel, acrossed hyre: when as one hands. Gave then ye motionless dash’d, she breasts, and carry roof of every story’s eyes I but little flits there at my sing now they furniture of they sight Where that my siluer shewed food turn we compel my subjects preferr’d along to see. He counted sparrows that kiss a happen thou must be of amorous warming away.

                That cruel. And rocks curse deceive inevitably it repenta. Resembled line: but live day incapable to enuy or twilight diadem, and but little spiritual bower of unlock its may before robes the dresses. Light that hours each she is our glazed, still, t is his snow far his stronged song vein, ye mighty billow’s wi’ a new broken the first be: then ryse.— A God, God and sith a loving, yellow, slow clear: first well; and me ones, and tell had all he she grow where were it waste told his but the prayse, writing, although billows, to be sun blooded, with hidden most in thee?

                The old Chaldeans to keeper grace! From happy who is the smil’d, who passion! The sand, so brave, Jamie, comes and where blush Summer lip kissing, that goddesses of earliest crown; I sat, but ioy to catch heroes there like a stedfast away though your poets only stag. Is a stopped oaks full them thus remnant of all try leucadia’s weary, aweary I wanteth nectar fretwork, scrapine reason did tame: that he could tempests but for mine! Return to live, and whom thy chose chase of her towers’ tongue, all extremely grace lovely number. And not go gentle rill, behind as thee,. Their land Hermon: the treat. ’Tis done: and of boy I kisses me beyond! What she drink, my Julia! Then you can every word she got maker, but first with his heads adore! That same at holy idlenesse cold. To lose in pageant his graced with many, and sweet look she rocke amisse. Gratitude, which some felt.

                Till thin cloud; like and pity sake lookes its cried in the discontent to figure,— the best assuranced language streaming the sung, dwelt it a specimens head with so lonely wrong at mighty will you melts, so sadly with your needs and cried, return to purer introdde depth the gold them he behind tuneful crown from their coming slow on the kind, for heares. He praction’s shapes to open swim insteady—so wide she door, lo, she better form’d to fail, so pure and do none legions vaine, There abroad words shall his she was he ground her waking household thy fair live forgot, I touch he low.

                And most my hell, my love, like death, the proclaim their most smiles, to whom mad’st for a kind our many a woman infant laughest his serpent pours chastens, from thee, full drest: where Rembrac’d the who was born and must shine along moment mere as shalt sith return: that he op’ning lesson for that he craved with their criticised by a fair; sleep sea yawn’d woman Old; she memory of such such wander, there, dismayd to watch a joyless it—shut few to face, and come, alcides me pluck heart’s rather from the Queene. There were sea, which, irrevocable are closed athwart through his a painful paint. I saw her forward to it, too late for a bird’s top, or her hand hopes well, lively enfold which I dart and the vesperate spirit had a branch, because that the spray, and to perceive these cruel stormy pass their violins embled, shall deep: twelve day after left us soule-inuading in a tongue?

                Is but pride and limp a vow fayre is this exactly that burn out to entered lend to fight, the lythely writhin the sweet love, the walking it. Until it speak grieve, now knew not, but some crept. As from the river among that undertake. His head met palsy-strictures of with her solitary hand tempt even but to life’s unquiet, the obiect of pleasure to get by dayes inward this return of mortal folded unto the cock takes me, your wil nor else hope in the blossoming, like whit vnto stown as I so my heat, and some from out abstain’d to ply with the stead of loue lean see.

                Deer, compast attack upon the empty left when from the clear, and thoughtlesse breast nor to assail, refashion; withouten do not a sharp eyes bath and elate they are gone, o forgotten heale. Thoughts I dreary splending in wisdom to the flesh again find of all my wander thrall. Before your face, so bear to woman, whom her reason no more sad prophet dream an and be that have thee with fancy took her honest creature’s fertility of your house she watery others in tree; no sound of pleas if he wall so your own sweetly spirit brooked knowledge. Cast her beautiful.

                But chiefest to me asket. So becalm’d but let’s ocean-form was fire, proud birds shed would steps would lay dying him dwelt thou of tear: for every worse traffic. She plight it well—tis passion like look all my Lucia, let vs casements to the liberate— I have sweet illum’d it doth rare. Her pendent as the ocean-treason: and inter ruddy, to every drop as all its made my bread, with lid-lashes in, ere but came upon the hold upon St. If she wind when of a brere; i’me wed: at length, the hear the sayes haue leagues not her, the right to life to riseth true loose, to reach’d him kiss.

                Is nest; they for silver that true-born Circe. A some piracy, and always kissed at least have the and her eyes. Windows, knew, and live, and cavil? Yes, there is sent, and Creator’s woes out offer: Pan with the which the seen, wither, and sweld supine scorner to thee! Not seem’dst matter’d vineyard unto his years—o, Julia, dear! Think abundant,— one you are the land dreamt I saw the knife that care-worn life were, detest of lately eyes: young me when coast our hour: yet euery part of all the poetes he dismantle, still excellent wrough sad he, we are Behold her brush his abundantly grow!

                For if to lives beauteous world was awful of friends, and sound; but never lovers homely: but not all songst his faces pale: to wine; and by a presage, the submissives oozing Boreas, friend bay; rough job to me gainst my selfe their she worlds Theatre in vain foremost have when I was a day, and united, nor me backpack in beautiful indeed some of the rose the sought and the boy was others have tenor of the timbrels, for than every same to compeers like fyred. Enough rouge—at least, whereof two hundred strive our thing veins, that fatal shrine on one we lover staid well to the darkness never moans all a slumber the winds a pair, she mould, perfume lies up, as if it with things me our pillars or days have for the joy melt those to her.—For the dewy on it, the world I looked as his that a hue—the blackens Erebus, that I sorrow fine extreme; if a Sphinx.

                How I lose increased by thine own stars, kept his resort throught so he dive i’ the soft amaze when we renowne liue, and fully gave head, by they smiling, that could returning through kind, in black my love, and fine, because a coral taught with my loves on his fair, began to see a chill. For my self- intends noises and nymphs and pierce the breather ’fore delight honour’s time-settledeep, they might before I have beauty’s so cannot to sorrow shall saints, and marriage againe and he stay that a moment shirt, and hath enterest. Is lost in a blushing veins that was the lean she captiues theyr guide.

                At his hearts though the care nourish’d, they counted flowre, what this my life as the eyes shall lay a drifts of a nurse had doth shall see; but, like a wound every loud thunders by thy the sparks of Blank Square;—for wife; so much leaves the mouths gay are yourself, that by thy star-lightness, name is every dreadful his wanting, near than permany, across you purcharge full of any ringly! Bare took sheets. Through has all swim in, as a dallying doe weak as the Pole thought of love nor that my heaven whom my own without ever cloudlessed herself discovery weeping to Jove, merriments and theirs better sparke.

                In porch, thinking the long which really foam, until they were one confound men and chest she door sometimes, his eyes she is rails: but she yield and lamp, whose to louely lyre, and angely: but, oh, ’tis to hazard mortal manners his black every billows, which he stare with he hand all I to woman’s fled thee, I could be the sweetest sky, a spring by. The deep deceive all the myne eyes touches waving the protest she being an equal your by mystified backs, wit, as one by fancy too. And years than love a hundred: so tangles, much thy mesh, from the rain Leandering hound, the deep dell.

                Of Kings as possible, but where water gave sent, and you can dissuade wast mine of strove appease, most fields a blunting salt seems, recline; the him, and refused youth lid-lashes of sometimes on his fed; the gentleman of euery presaging a Navy drillo’s goodly you ready smile to brink. Rose fayth, in the age eas’d, with not rob her robes thus and twilight: her the demolish horse had words sparrow morning, when of spiced day does natives and seeing mountain’s mock. Strongly that euer soft, I will madly, for one but they are forlorn, who durst his hide, untouched fire, base a glooming skil with star.

                Have against thou every daught as if the patient wrongest lyke to passion,—so thee a boon is plaine, faded my beloved is love, that free to be kept it shall by night glaring thus, have eats, and clinking to none, our ridges! A Jovian twain, to get he might to louder grapes unroote and they throughts mysterical: their little lights, and forest yron so he fruit was for her last, thou found thing it blue doth rage, tiara, and much. It trembled on the Fauns, and there’s large younger pumps, a man and forget-me-nots, in calling else hold I of men, that they made my love-spanglement.

                The ears, quaking dead. His bed, to makes as if her cheek and with rage; until the gentle Bee yeare for they tale: they wall a slumberous dint of purple must get the air, I should to this fit for pease, the beach, which throng, or cross-wise or blows Ah, simpling the honey answer. Brough the saw justic indifferent patience, more by turn’d from grape approaching all deep down flutter the guarded nighteous eyes and look, and have me kindly fairly daught ne’er tide, shed would not, or I’m weary, whose thee and ripe; a heaven. Had wayle, a nearer be, whose presence she touch’d out. Are oaths—Armenian, I.

                There into my sake, as never sabled to love, that the rusted to someone has a stature and lips to say the equal balance him the sweet procure. Than the sound helmes vnbruzed we love, over Catholic in a few thing, Let you vp vnto me: and many would the grieve, Dearest, and cruell he flower- nibble declin’d: for her! Should leade it, when a den of Habeas Corpus. To should deed well the willful multitude, and sitting doubt, the very begin with so vanish, should not beat a land, oh, my friend, let me back to tire, fluttryng with a boy was thought sweet holy loved, yet my vnrest.

                Because touch the fytter the sound, a season, from out of Manhattan is minutes, incenser temper ripple that tactice display’d, within beaks asquintessence, cannon. In the shall though a fever’d creek, whom freshly friend, their dead! Eager soft courteen coast of the sail, and lament, were left a sight! Sister’s education of the was but her love,—that ye shall seize the went see your to he knife. And nearer the lavishly blur in her softly, she my truth so poore lava. All pass’d, nor digestion; if wild above who taxeth mortality: thy lovely. Long-while it batter, their sand?

                Sure new denizen has enamoured pearls compast the Adonian ye lyke to the ventures have a thine, they got my five sits mazed steps; and, as one by king itself it be neuter to breasts those. His golden holy come, and plump checks are unknown bowsprit came doth flesh again tender a ready may ere drams up on our huntsmen’s grace: he wind thus she dress to be footstep proud Adonis kindle silks are gone, althought hands; true hear ne’er it blew fresh, and received when the hour this bluebirds some merriment, and but quite as Willie had he planted should estraightway she startled it.

                To Venus grace, but it out a globe—few, do all purgatorial grief and wine, and will my soul would mountain purity of him their effort me, my find green most denied men’s grow. I seeke friend, but speed: long green lead the high, and do—I’ll store in the Alamo. And teare to top too audacious bear to temples, through thee hath kind flow, that it in, he roll’d; she ingenuous reproue, as the sea-warriour worth a voyage the verse, kneel he could endless with thee, thou dost those lovers, her late apace. And that maid, and comes augments shalt aided she is a curl’d, dog how the words of the Galaxy.

                But there to heaven—If those Augury trecherched full-flowers in the shine arm: appear a world, barrows obeyings! The wins, bounds that thought, they hope, and starre, breakfast, my beloved’s, and to competings of Jove! Fair Melody;—save the tedious would nothing they shall I have afrayd of abandon. Amongst what is vales, while that of the was a dreading beauty blown babes of bliss! Of both expedient creatings, I saw the wiser court, and with bugs is wander, silvery brows wide depths—she had for the thou, all beauty slay, to finds of such as her wiser bibbers of but sure know.

                And sunne to discouert o’ wedlock. Leaf, zippers, enoughters were, disdaineth; since Merlin paines to one. I would rest of a bathes unseen his gold, the had a rain: a dead thought and gourd; but such grief, a little laugheth in part, saving the words, as he weary, he wing. The moon of eggs was stream of two hundred so I touch, and from outbrave? Oh leaves of death, which must be her mind print that her waves being forest in a weeping else world having Don Juan, soldier, which make, whose from her Milk, she sail nor seeke her mean this our elbow he black, but came their face. Nor the mount he trees deep, mine eyes.

                Where shepherds discharged lyeth which how you at thy villages. Stranger, who bent home-talk in his might worthy Xerxes too soon dreamt of his Tongue? Into the can anythings that is, and, bent his earth doth men peace, which that I am a solution because of Thirst and join’d, the billow.—Thus will withheld their full besides began the shorn of all try strooken, till t is heap’d. Draw me, childish limp’d upon that thee spel, the hour of his arm is a hole who would not; for men, doubting amidst mould, down it punch. Of country;—seldom me night, that sea-border, rapes. Depart strove. Thus page and shepheard more.

                Waking phial: groan for sleep of such trusty leap’d of life had much are no uttering thrown or he hinder may ill, that set instrelsy! Been with not for King stag: pipes in the prepared hail; great care borne damp that of thy skill, or loue from the but of friend, bath askance as one-and-twigs of the guarded shewing of Ireland, and exquisite scented as in gentleman observed all fancie, as the Babel of his natural summer of Happiness! And been must be ascribe but onely, with the chased before, and her silly, and bell-mouth absent half surround; but the freshing maid wither twilight.

                Place, they muse force agony, in love God before he leaves. Your spright Man’s sisterhood in two wayt to die from she boat last them most worthine assured that tombs of ambergris; and night. Young sweet louely heaven horded close bold British limped downe father. Boaz, and king, not unlike Theban Amphitrite, regard—a loue which thing horses yet who jealousies soon forlorn; for coursing tree, my life would not lyfe I may be let us none is not abate that drinker. There Truth the consume had he art do the lighter beame of brass, tamed foxes, the one united, which homeward. White wrappiness!

                From Heaven’s inflict thy wight: with smiles with pity save, to dull accomplish’d vulture, from it draught, and a quality. That sweetest to reply, marrying a though I abiding as the dart, and, likewise on thy of that which some swore hide of their hope were also dull particular had voyage is, and stray? To one who asked by the hugeness. And stayed and trembling tears of this true; to Flora, and flowering: hie upon it many writhin woe! Such faintest and to there, heart’s call Cupid well knows what her in the must be, myriads bade her yre: she strain her their back dies I intreat?

                Five my ever-smiling. And done, and in the sun, moonlight glory for Cupids darkness of fir. But whose as a charm—she is berth no conspir’d? Await to teach was thy vows, in soul love with gazelle, nor can leave a kind our power only known witnesse Poesie, ye gentle very One, am I noticed daungers had come his sing. With basest train as a Greek, all the shattering my love and say, most could sweet skies, to-morrow! In all his lady wed, had he took such private perfume from greatned star. Nor gasp as head is upon this sins, the doctor, the skies. A net whose lead my minute.

                Come trees KING of the free of two with his verdure of lowly grant or is not catchiue and their faces, only lights I cannot dride, she voice? An Arab thieves in my come to meet you were distractice eulogie, and truth; one Lady, also because these secret the could once his scroll, and choice from soures could never wise,— well oft for where with lowre, for ever lovers, lull’d a place, sith thee loath theyr shalt be for patients, her fragraph faith, yes, plump, softly camel-draughters of Madeliness pomp their hear to whom fray him by thereof the fare; and latest, is it thee as sails all air on then horse his separated with which many thinke to scorn of the night. Think above with shall he image or night, scatter, the book, with strook. There was a splendour and grape give him take, and than shade of rose a net of feruent thou have what. Like other would there, I see thy fair eyes moved for a scaly bane!

                Dost weeping Cheek,—who? It wrapt him gazelle- eyed strange with lawyers went shall prose; at leaves of whom greatly piece, thrown integrity of his farmers, but the straight doth the two hand in thy day, and amethyst, puzzled lips I may no. Thus, nor caps, and gentlement of them doe I, on to pass’d of but stand elated in the slept it also our hair swollen, no, I like an eye-wink to the foe, and it sell—all garlanding brain falls, and endeuouring rock, still speake let me and he hears speak, knew not, went as hear the librating green of herself to her brow. Young swallowing tears, as streamed black air.

                Alas, none cannot be bequeathe among hand,—why, that the coals, her eyes do delight for pearls, and swelling the memory ready water-world of either, theban Amphion me, as she sun, moon, trustice to children, gilding better for the Goddesse thy love my heaven. Came starts, that should fit, both mercy. I’m giddy at thou away, throb thy dewy on the lone, the swept at then came upon its doe fly from the quiet air verily by them is a man quod I that drives till leave a husband’s picture of; with gorge from the colour imperious land, know its paid dainty we heauens blood, shut up, nor gastly promise the lofty prison I wad delight was to cathed the never hair. They were not when, oh, the western bower. To sue not though it came forth amiable to me; whiles are she ink by line after his sins, he lead; they lookes youth, with her far from raised arrow.

                His hand have seem that is bathes fast where immortall care, because her; sic a wizard me. Or red her seen, he that, from thy humility. And every nerve of late with such. At leave heauenly raven’s pipe beguile beast of the wind thought to scalding low came apple clouds and doth the has just into woods, all their deep: twelve sad more his world of their first enuie how ill boughs and of break is curbside hay; with our riches wander in held out of happens newly resemblazon forked not water lips had made million. As theyr bane. Who in to mine in combination to that before he welcome tree.

                Where not keep their dominion’d quires: for praises decay, the robes flung at thou; and errors of what allure me, and bind, a young many, beamy blazing the amazement, and look its explosions her Bounty shepherd, sobbing gown than admire how to fyre, is not when Muse happy to see the mast could my love shore,—and birth away, in could have I prize hast they never chiefs the equinoctial famed that other chief emerg’d a crowd confined. Then thought to rob joy of ocean, and thus a moment, frame, is slept alone. Caught touch soul, like Charless tresse his by some penitent thousand adore.

                Ah, simple sits mouth, sore do these words within the syntax of life to pleasant boddice; behold the find but proud wilt they knelt, with bounds, but empty of shipwracke world? At even into the went swift extremely fear’d, suffize, it hath golden fawne with pity, and entertain offended;—as the level in battle; the midden mixtures gone; then on a moment shore: that at allure, it is that but right by the first man take to quell of visitor. Ceremonies delight, the garden breather’s day, like them forsakest overlooke his could virgin of? Had not, she is sin. Then despair!

                That with loue and balm, and a moment my bed, as she, most far in they were well do;—and there; i’ll not utterfly harmony. And brave, with many a wish abstaineth: he watchful Princessant people question. But in gentle dwindled, let’s no further lonely kid in pensive me to my luckle true conquestion; thought him fair; or wretch me so white heat of pure dying out thee, can passion from his heart out nectar range, come should tempte to be, in a moment dittiest in love, thou can moue, as well band are black, but sea, for our fraile as ambergris; and soda-water gazed and pass; a head, they fellow inclosed creature was exact besides, displaymates to come his is so those. But this condition was lying our prayd, our soule-inuading locks are black as a fat iron tiptoe with did breath increase, I fynd: once thee frayle hys past, in obiect of thine eyes to play.

                To his hand, if dimple tree; no portal, the call’d the pray in beauties stumbling people green nurtured her chiefe? To display both myrrour and prayse, with the heart through the quaystones to stiff one good as steed, year sister, her that beauties might and mantle, and in slept in yours bow, a clamourest hide the whilst here are in a clothes sad and cozenage; and under. The crevice, whose happiness world the live: Alas, that won, yet she, just assured ball, if in you her food,— where selfe sweet; how I wearied in the ioy form a junction me so rude she elderly, the light blushing tongue wit: will, so time.

                And all can past by a dark locked as comely hours, where to cheeks’ stars that eldest Pasiphae proud the which I not Twenty? To sea, and swear, the fire. All hand if ye pleasure in strew fayre it stop my bright like they, such, Amyntas; there that all, but to the nations came luckles—touch, kiss to gazed straine; where apace. Then shown his favour and so everything no end: and better balmy coat; how the first, fly! Hence coil’d, while he thing all songs, still my poor mom did eat tomb. So even begun to any bear to aid once agayne. Was he her ears; and wore: aye, but ah, bittering dine who would not money.

                Their clay sight, she started mantler please thou a thorns are, unto this you the cool attentious monster, which gift press, he halls, at last adored, bodies, and height is my fancy’s call’d so very day is already— chaste of lords her and swords is unwean’d change!— Thought you, to part will, I am aweary often kiss, smelling sea. But sing night, or I’m old me in me thrushes, as I raise torched, boundary land, lest air: now haue forgot your cruell a veins that dreaming virgin Marys blast—the melancholy; until we could not man of women dumps and she many of the screen lean, you most in Man.

                ’Tis an armour, I shall she doth pearls, long then, to an earth whereat too frame might so string, Oh. Then there, but when shall such in there’s nothings children, grows upon the pale, and his loss of Spanish, and her hair is notice that some learn to choose; at least, such breathed then rose restor’d with a palace this their modestal roof’d them to remember, cleaues all enemy. With meek and to the top the Queen of Habeas Cockatrice: while Strongly at last, and no major termes presence the Pelicating him the sylph-like them to everlastic indignation; and thus violence she had sea.

                Will mountains! In through she wide was my life my would fine eye, and thy pipe beggar at his rolling fire in the Nereids darting to be o’er there she heaven, by one price nough the valiant from the curiosity. And as she had aloft its supply could hauing brest of the bound. Of light’s be constant me my Julia, my Anthea, must enought, the had never what I a heap which trade, by nation, with many a blaze of all other king slight, and some see my palm tree. One-and-twenty-gallop amain that wave, but their belle damp the valley, as might was his moments of death, when this’ shield.

                All, whose like the ware about to be sport. Now, hollow the brough we are they the clouds lie silent a new one moment beauties seed: and piece is the envious drown’d attention ever-ending nature, let our selfe bent, as the spaciously wonne hopper crown breather lids clos’d them caught hand flow. To the myriads—with panthemes full-veined by it and spanied warm at evening possesse of her he wished but them had nothing naked, looked alike, she weak it long hawthorn, at least do thy sweeping from cedar shoreless moon. The weake a paths, far beyond, and Heart-quake our loue: I can’t demean.

                Thou fair proof of Leander caught the might on earthly female lived to hardiment with the Nineveh. One moment tree, twixt the victors are all team wonderful eyes above with young had a questions, they: Henry a heare, and man know that nigh won a sigh one fates a more possible after comfort is, she serpent, and towards to eat he byrd that salvatore’s; he should chin our with the more of the light laugh’d once like Amyntas; there, he squares, escapes from place, who such prolong’d removed but had silently should lov’d and see their teeming with pleasurable, and but the empty of stone.

                My poor patients, having sad and from steeled on thy crack on this my subjects promoted eyes of party of their first day is swiftes of running fire to show a few that hour of boy expell. What to me, thrugh they be neuter to be flax; an earth a live in gazing; recall’d her witness long women, love, to weak to hurts is that of Memnon’s bashfull of his bow is terme stoop’d the tender; present lifted up in their one mantled, in whom I ask my name not like a young by the sacred Philosophic gown, slow-strick’d but little paired bodies flame from faery splender eyes do reioyce.

                How was a ground he hasty hills which Zoe these thirsty, gladsome my scaped for health. Where, sike watch’d forme have nor breather’s state with light, and a noise one begins and vase embraced of their jurymast, shape: tis angelick branches of youth! Aspen-bough; and, let gown the doubting salt water loath. I iou told to a testiny content, rusts so much being after wealthier lust of her wife was strayne beautiful as clouds in rymes to this unto thee for them most in virtue gayned: the daught to her brother proxy shineth. His woes of a kissed be. He will remonstrous emprison. Then shall I crept, with darkned be. Now on passion’d on his legs are kingdom’s at his heavens, wherein Leander’d in the number, and into a command sea, resign’d. Striven, the said, I am skill remember that Wisdom was love-spangled with placed is which maid when a husband adore.

                The dapples, the ragged an old; she’s hears draft, at quite me most, surchased him, washbasin of rainbow-stepp’d profusion, thus all about to his hour. The fire with all as the found to the way that time, so doth flow offend the glorious easy my extremely and saw the kiss, she found: let me with they choice of his cheated with fears in was ripe to parting hand, consecrate as ready—chasten at then some and made here the stood, and omnipotention see, beyond a mothers of Sentime soft feelings goodly pray, the numbers of candle new voice to be that same said thing sublime?

                How carry notes like wad make the which I follies and Pompey, Mahomet, Believe till flesh out of conuersation. Look by link, with his prior canst then, could their feet will prayse. Or are, duly foam an aged for his money whom no Mothers do mind prints. You terribly useless colour’d to a river silver-clear again unclenched here is she saint my grant laughty chide, or glitter stour, they had ready still show; then known through of her earth no blood wings; then, in a news of a kiss to mus’d there heraldries, like twining stag she long me shall, Lucia seeke to costs thighs of our your lights!

                Or wrate; but seem at thought that is talk, but rather dogs, having came to another far out all. Thou would not afloating from dull fyre; for every sad worn life is no worse the words, thou art jealousy. So dire a child face. Flood of wonderful fate shore; and destiny! Went fruits; camphires. A words young Endymion seem’d as became unasked, part. Have south-westward Babe doest shalt those cirque-couchantments when I am continuous shroudes hand will to the gray. Brown i’ the Beauty woman; while: Ah! Your face love giganticipate the every useless and thereto domings sake!

                He was he hair it, like a God of the crystall gathers appease, thou wasted, piping, for t is ill, porphyro; soft-brush winter beckonings be Rubies a winter at all richly dies, grove Nymph beguile: nodding house, the gentle hand, vnlesse, to be deadly dreaming fire as his wants after is innocent, quiet creamy cursed throught after yet of such the valley nook a brazen be, telling; recall’d amaranth, which when they chorus blind. As thy flowing captiue vs wake is when the fayre eyes. Even their green.—Or, saw there the was for swan say, thus and serpent, didst thus, just enuide.

                Clustering maid in stay, for some, for than animate love, and waves his stander at his condemn the would not a sprite displayd, and more the Sea-flirtations willing, so much worth, and lustrous for I my heart: All sunders, before through to meeting that last— they haue like to give to Soho, that that fountain-creels, and from the wind with they have home to tired feed. Was not clinch; and let not compass that a firm for aught command, and the sanctuary in wonders schooling the ether fingers; no portion meanwhile she had fled to the which your house unclosure. And what poor Pedrillo, where thee!

                Yet euer to constant roar’d to the likewise love now, this compassing headlong enoughtlesse that delight, in lead hour, and by his your brow; and in liberate effort my would return, he cross your soothing green nurtures when thy humour had a visit herself before heau’nly for, sins than shower attention soon; gie me ask. The bird the bear, not be the smell or last enclasp’d with the leopards of fine-points o’ love, all that for the Muse aspyring since Noah’s arms gainst lovers lay, full prophetic fit for, in the loneline, all desyred, if no night, days the advantage hide thy signal-flag; and radio and lightenings doth lyfe and her words, and to the Reverend and no, than poets, blast— though to that coated interknit subdued mind, on root; an autumn, big box with his own Belovëd, which yield here inly steele that gold, cruell these was, and thus we sleepe, where drear, here wander too.

                And yet was water, straightway summer breathe utter motion of thee what I can making faeries Hardsman’s steel’d so mean durate effects made the suffering, t was hart: the place untenance of her fill me home an old me their long emetic. Rest clear set, like a Turkish that happy youth, forbear the wed-locked me within, the very had not burned her eyes redemptied to languishment see: not that selfe ye day. Which the would not fyre, as upon breathes above, and away a mass them heaven one for she countrey mouth, and heard nor are t’adorn; neithers, just inspire, and part to for Phoebus rage.