#he was so gone for Ken from minute 1 in the woods | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

libidomechanica · 1 year

Text

Untitled (“Last I sport, discussd the first”)

A ballad sequence

Did I longer collective land behold, the smart. Last I sport, discuss’d the first doth live, they cannot disperse, than familiar grace sheds itself to you white as soft pillow in the charm—she sufficed, beginnings: for as much better love the very for, love, and brings funeral. The hallowing your side bound to the wind by thee my lady in his ire.

Upon my sense of Love, studious how full performed, and states to whom he showed the artery of grape could plunder; and the came a monster of their gifts; he shadow: further, that when she has been my mind, refusing in thousand third

daughter and east, advantagenet, good as warm, there is not love, went and passed: his brother’s will refused the dice seen, and earth-thunder-passion, the children: saying to Us, nor wrong and that … felt as I! The Duchess of mail beneath

a Double bride; cassandra was here, within ken, thus part. And have been a Sultan of his Cot, and rushes to this more here! Temple’s pursue, but so idle: for the grave proves off noise of dewy-tasselled thrall, could not too hast smil’d?

Through still them they lead to spared them to me substantinople, an’ I’ll come she saw his host, with differ more at my wallet into the children shone; which their eyes of this cumbrous few, a tempest bondage made preuie marks I would do it,

except where need;—first, and to flatter in the morning, o heaven and bay; rough town and still, and led, soft for his day smith made certes don’t produce it; that, shown how all the tender growing tinsel: who unpen their fell, but soone a night

all Confusion change rest, a good manners shooting: at length- ways in their task of Rhenish. The morning-Shower of unreflection view. I tossed, exhaustlesse language but ever flowers, much morning; shamed of the snort his Anguished dame. A

glorious minute find you on themselves reap glory dight by the fact for Ever! Just and cattle those an underneath is things to come, calling that call allowed up the luck all the sage’s safe. A long did I rove be seen a stone,

do you to’t, you of the stars falling to redeem from heaven to habitation and hasten on true loved a secondly, proue. Long since there’s bete: society is no sportsman beats in russet jacket foremost in the Sculptor’s

Passion to you now I find their bon-mot head and louder beauty call, or wood; for this. He him quite lawful and morning vows were crying, try my she, with Wisdom be shine own deep-sunken squardon flies my luve to finds not my should lie

with with Lettice their long a little half before I am one within mine ears, like Nature in whit, to shelter that hoarse murmuring snatch the first Christ all faithful fancy’s sported water’d when his cavern, ’mid the place me without

you—two days drew fair beaming, my day was I not for a quietude: more without, now to woo her. The monied speculation which so sweet Venus, be my deadly swannish mien, a voice; as an honest had you to be wise doubt his preserv’d

my teeming bow again subsiding, its shrined prey, which mourned. Short, and roar’d for why, there is soon remounts throne, we dropt, and Iphigene to lose, he said; and ancient mansion very human kind: take it, which struck by line, ribb’d and how

fleeting garments? Have me more precious heat perpetual or potent by power expire; so little or downward from the gigantic proportion journey towards of charity. Your proffered your beauteous vassalage, look’d upon a

pillars, let us cull forms go by, scarce the valiant he shore! Frozen into sweet; then came far to forget, or more near: for I must kings, now curse, that when there she bore; she made, the bastioned walls like a costly brilliant too. Which you

agree, whose body’s book the sun is his fortune seldom sin; but gentle swain, I would be gone, from dull and retossed arms gainst odds to endured and pray to much as artists great freethinks? Her secret police of his bow’d attendants;

the second past through the same. Of coral diadem, a sight more did silent ambassadors with me; where flower, and now him by a white as Zenobia’s teeth, and then dances are fires the rouged, somersetshire my heau’ns food, once

back with speech tell nought next in range. The child I oft hath thee to the effects, save in his feature stood, and thus begun, and lifting than when its mitt, a close the plane is coming do, that what late is enough it, Follow, If the season.

You wilt say that boy, to the sweet is she long-forgot? I on my story ran. For I had a harsh net? Over you

except to any saint: then stept a buxom sea, while many nymphs, when some her empty feared to a grand impressed serene,

it grew: he was I clung about the twice you are more Yankees than for ever yet proved, cold, wett, and in the night

their have not well: thy fragile bones. As they try, shower, not be admiration, starke blind my sovereign parts, with so dear.

When his veins—no doubt that we’re brains the punish all the smart I try; tyran Honour kept in the case of half behind;

and anon, to her; and sure, unto one, that the danger sunny landed foretold; not leaves thy sad state the dusky

part, while I loue to post with eternal book; as if a might hand on the first doth delight like Charley snarling. If

she comic Muse; nor could lose in words she grey sight sooner heard no more I will not teaches make, which thy brain began

to myself, a silence: while troop they reading tear and grows, faire Queen-Bee, the lilies, the slavish, trust above them yearning

lies dead, still weary watch that the winds meet. May be takes their pedigree told of ghosts, and talking on her brother.

A might lament, on his intent, in malice willing tinsel: who unpen their Loss to more by rankles. Very bird

as I, not you place of highest heart, which our own Estatesman thousand Powers budding in wait the loom thro’ the

gross, detestable, all night, as now, is a shelf. Where needed lie, mortal, guilty gate and standing he steep his estate

to consult, if thou make my boat dance when the moderately the land oft-times a day, as Phidian friendly breath,

if force were na look on her bosom all the grassy lea, my nets would strange matter in her fall: not a tear behind,

resolvèd. Two widow mourned. And the Lord Henry rid well, if it proves them of reuerence; stout on your lover and hills, too,

are not sell thee: yes, I am tired in never spume again the praise beyond the dead the last, when she: tis hard;

and wisely manage my self, nor mark’d their feared though heavenly joys did your children fair, first. And since, that answer This

fierce complaint of all that dewly adayes conflagration, is loath the trace the wind the story, for pitying it

abroad, and forests, but glory former vows, with pricking said my eyes and while I spurre my heart, where ever your name.

But still be young, he acquaintance of your own presage; incertain postpone the said, airing the banquet and adorns

witnessed soul can better love of yore: aye, hadst cool’d the banishment pain, yet looked as Pasimond a sword, you wanted

scarce had to removed either earth divine, by common-place for me too. I sue not say. Behold, the piece to its fretwork,

not foreign spouse away by love, and constant Sea tells a fine old granted; and, silent earst seem high condition.

If to a quiet, the Harvest of vengefulness and lower at play’d in some holy Angels will make, when

require Westernight, in gloss of his bow’d a train of rose intoxicating first presumption ran and how he him

to his horrid spelling. Bred in absentees. What love denied, be both legs were to call me by night; and the man. In

the child we loved wither, twinned as he sure saints had woo’d me back-yett be a-jee; syne up their hallelujahs quench’d

like to settled thousands of the Ring of thine! Of the deep, when there—You tell me think us dead, long stone-wall; and gaze

where her alone. Adieu, sweetly from the pression on that flowers, much morn she banquet and like an orb, as there; he

alwaies seene. Has gone; the Slap-dash regiment, whereby I know that the flooded your departure, for his accused to

steal me a grand die. My stranger wine, and, gentle peach; and, brushing away, and longest grapes, and ’twould it shocks sometimes

I must full, and hope; while I, with a day, they say love taught heart so potential. Which thy praising by, behold! Flye hence

and spoken. For a remind me. Or some minx tripped away; and then assum’d, as will I follow, follow’d from her

untimely drawn that bright, has found to his arm-chair? His manners may as ’twere pity let affection of a son, the purple

scarcely say she knew, before my pensive Sara! If all this the bow, without a woman: then retreated like

wax it yield, huger than your vision. The time he chewed the please, and dares to Heaven to that self-same shafts. They have a

dizziness the walk against his eyes. Dead relief must noble races; where lavish hat frown’d supersede the sware that

sooth’d my vigorous inflamed with thee—Ah, I have not so breath of wilderness? To meet there in a wakeful

remedy for air limbs. From whom men diseased; but with her, gathering it doth flowers, nightstand and gave you appeared their

groomes hand the rim. Long since, is the best of the howling, slow, that solitary song These words your painter rapine bent.

In iron gate and expounds the excess, that scorne with his clothes, dirtying maid; like smoke. That came: I saw a crowd the eleventh month the bride he bliss assured and, with this the morning

like Nature smile. Around, tho’ poor beast, souls unborn, with a few, a tempting seas I’ll come withal: it like translate the light, and, join’d by that guide, for here, here the knucklebone.

Lightly ascertains, till commend there were there. But oft to see at last—at last; whose evermore— we single music

and detained by thee, O Latmian! No, no, nor at the Gulf Stream and liuing dying fast it is, much mortal eyes are done,

into a deep religious sea is that the beauty breath of English, imperial face, excellence. That shall we

say, all natural west, stems a wild scatter an unknown words that neither in thought, in glee: a poet could, till left a

grateful ground, the parent minds, our bounty to their long dead, from sword enured to waste blank as deleterious.

An old dead; the charity and business a crust. As the jewels trifles are both my dear, so that eyes in one wheels may cease to me the two prince I see the flowers, are of heaven.

Bachelor I will but my half house come to the white hair was to cultivated the elite’ of crime accuse Old England’s perditions. An’ mother despisèd love in pages

dusty for fear the bean, and owners of charity, that contradicted came on the bliss assure; to liberties.—The second pass, an old again, advantages: and night?

Beauty and fro, distinctly, my dove, my lad, o whistled as quickly to the stories of martyrs awed, as his crooked

across a language: we retort the substances straight. If those royall round the lead to come. The utmost quiet?

One steps; another and enter, Now let me bore; she shoulder of the dark came salutary as his loosely write what, if she had survived his heart thousand years had him hide, with vulgar brain, before. Attended buds; midst of all, and

Passion all hush and there more appear to gang, and she wrote, and one and your destiny! By compel my still we bury me deeper dranke of my boyhood, in sure their hallelujahs quench ye, or sleep, or sway, because I know, which makes

the bank of him, the radiant in her awake, that the down to us, that aged men in flowers, and even the drowsy waked her excellence. Of Nereids danc’d; the dimples, tongue; while I thee how faint in height of Vertues keep

recesses me speak of blown to overcharge, as it had been a splendor be my dear, sow with a stake it leave her brother. Was till to mind the foundation; but deep below, and raised her flight: there it hurt her smooth it came was well suited

with a twinkle on the conquering the fact for their spirits through a scroll, and look’d rounded. Longbow from Clarinda, friend of Gaule is more—swells together in generous ease: long your own sweet must weep—such hellish spite of the torments,

descrie. But still to its own country;— seldom since she had not to be envied of the university for more her alms, as their Life in me can tell me think such pleasure clog him, there is on his own crowned. Beyond such those we die

I cry with slow carriage. Streaming, my only seemed to spin on you depart; made of the deeds. He onward kept; wooing their and having sage, kit-Cat, the door; so I cannot, souls! With please; he rose and steer my Muse his poor Glaucus held out

upon that I dare to be envied of defiance. But I think for the drunk, the slipped upon it, and play and of his father’s image which ne’er had seen: an eye, high decay perspective life my life I spurres with a twilight of

Kai Khusrau. Deep in shades ’mong old, waiting from the Tower of lightened by thee, starved, the could not with is dumb. They seem a world’s a game; save thy resolved. Sad Iphigene though the bar and ever so well suits my reason scanned, and dancing

upon a pilgrimage; until I find me out and wreckes auoid. Why did heaven was they suff’rings, for once, and over this youth, and saying it, of Stellas eyes; he storm: has found its burn and placemen to disputing frankincensed

awhile they didn’t occur. As if therewith a tame press’d with his clothed, and pine-crusted a present with elation. From vice, but gives thievish progress to give, but gentleman of long as Ulysses’ whistles in order keep we

things, and sleeping kiss those went in his only spare for me in this by this: an empty out once arose; the sea-gulls not indulged his Dominion: no Nation’? Beasts poor, which struck from boughs were to the wool of nature suit. What if I have

done for who had him hide, without hand; exciting a bath and Subjects only she was reckon’d, and fall outright;—to curb the guest, who move to be such- wise to speak; she was never love taught by that sprong for when shoot; forget, or more base

infection whispers, I wait. Not Living finders-out of one for to lick—no distinctly, mightier was prevent, so wimble, but a shorten, not I pulled around, while Cymon called and blade returne, starke blind voluptuous woman

next draught, and your bodies rosy. He whole which he found the world come to pass to more with the buxom sea, whilst many cover every tree. She demonstrative, a jest, and count no more of cat or more friendships’ guarded guise enforced retired,

he sets for thou, best more than a work and ripe-ear’d to flatters fall, smiling birds sweets all my wreak is, the woodbine twin brown hills, too, but it is mistinguish too, what were above had of Love of dogs, the magistrate: fixed on now, as

we are sweet Te Deums of the expelling shall at one in violence, only grieve, mistaken as if to a verse distant colonies need toward boldly fight with different meaning at eve we were he sported; I pass’d the childhood silent

as stone, developing to substantial feasted and boundless aversions, high, or wise he chosen Piccadillos are blasphemies. I pray, as desolate action while I meditation; now calleth foreign gracefully divine

the plain, and, pleach’d the cliffs of Rhodes is thinking there’s no more? That, Father! For the pit? I watch this is sheep: and his landlord hath heaven, to hatch a flowers shall see not on your own, thoughts that the while Joy’s a cheat. My cheek, in the

conceive the affection; till she was such, as to be seen. Of sanctuary alone; at his economy, and would wed, my heart is a bird- understood, has diverse? At thy flowers, night-long with the grieved, I have the wounds his head?

Street, place with tares, and shield, ere it but once from the thirdly, and kind; exciting allusions for the evil nor my head with you canst a vacant leave the city, and found her: the pine, are not gains of a Foolish in the monster,

thou canst not stay, and love in rank shall such efforts with tears with dawn; and, gentle was given thou loue, which, but all the prize contain commit to hit this bosom: my purse, high Muses scorn; but could he went to lover’s day appeared not, thou,

that in the clubs found he thoughts would ride alone; at his pegs; and I sat down to us, that sprong for well his graunted. If their true-love taught. Might feel a very brother wise double eye’s an air thence his reflection of the brave gallant

too. But serene of the porch, their habitation; and tomb- stones for you grow up from the laws behind. And rigged with his Teeth are fair. Fixed to moves, has Spagnoletto tainted arrow falles it make a short as cannon. Or that love may

chaunce to my bliss hence, which once could bear the rouge lately mountains to constant view: in vacant mind the follow ringlet, like his Bosom—looking thicket hid I curs’d the ripened as forfeits during stupid eye, and calling. And huge despair;

the her! Call along the cause; where is one generate sorry, the violence, alas, my joy and looke on, nor the house, and, the daisies green is cut, the ground was his Dominion sweet odours, Cassandra too weaken’d many days.

Never so well for their clothed, she though not defence, running with life—and calling streaking to be so wild; and icy- cold; and treat and patient weight; because thee. How cold, and many doubt the fat, or mouse, and dig deep in shadow, had for

me to possess peace, and of hot and arms, my joys, that sooth’d too much: nor o’er-sweete is, stolne to weary us; and purple vestry of the floor of those hope all men and joyance every on did so brittle moor, as in thy gold another

check than dress, what we die I cry witch! Of silver anvils, and no more; before us in a year. All you can only the enemy’s hospitable laws, and led, she died. A crystal bower; just to pray: so slowly, by design.

Praise him, or for the smelt o’ the quaint, old, okay? So—But Fate decree! Two days be overrun all that’s a warm with a blinding-sheet, and kiss his simple greene; let coat should or should them sweep the Face of an old passion been, shed a beauties which light, more by rankles. And there are waked, after marriage of fate, because I can guest. Shine orby power

though fled before spell, or ambers, and force, war, more bliss that he was at my very day in disgust, and polish heart, waiting about a slime, a things human eye survey their bills, Arcadians both, making through to its populous ease: long stone, lie on his manners throne smoothed, and durst beginning will these valleys, the pearls, and of his Authority

falls in one as I. And people are brief nights, rooks, pawns; the sky, so subject to nothing himself hadst never since last, howeuer I do sturdy slave to strikes its many wishes bore informed; the silent ears were time or be the fair. Unable to his qualities of love, or more my own beat into a vice: had she alone in the storm-blast shone a

fabric crystal roof rebounds: they must be truth; and he, Let other blessed to do. A lying round her pious pealed the crown the deeper. You would be the chance. Let be cherish’d men which he centre a hidden troops disbanded, and the smells sweet Adeline Amundeville and would retirement jessamine stranger sharp. And now the Bridge of Wood

a furlong family of Christians of the but gives the banquet and me. When I behold the secret, Good or Ill—which spurning Post? But barely on fire and I have studied quicke. We have enshrine of Glory end what’s her then how I by thee, heart. Features for a breaks the tail’s end to the sky is cleared each suck the trembling save her face, all my heart I fell

on its ears that to my tomb; or, like airy flowery honour’d do wish, and Iphigene, obligingly o’er me cast, depriv’d of one gender, to mellow, though her celestial folly once this part I’d lie within a niche and hit me running wind I practice dying far as Egypt’s rays, to fetch her brothers shall my Chloris’ deare captainesse

to my tocher’s blue skies, the rose, They’re barren grown whelp to make a new-tuned by all their steps are privileged along the hidden Mystery of my bow. In times stumbled down marble, I neede no more; but not get the rest of the same vnhappy each others but now write what not, though fled is by her heart; but look at you on the woody hollow in the

chang’d the guesses, and make the morning-Shower—one Morning lost, in so shall directed, enterchant coronet. Can you to be thing what come as the bestow their own improved, and nor such a long farewell, nor euer drank; and the earth is the blood no means were; and holily dispraises in little low, the heroes of women, lovely girls, with one day

resign, by two friends remain with this joyous time. Back the evil nor my phalanx on the gutted mind those weeps o’erlive no reason: and aristocrat, democrat, democrat, autocrat—one who can have been wooed and sleeping into each life—and to hastening day that the crystalline, rich indeed, both perish’d hands again, be your wedding name! I

would not all your names to shoots amain, her look’d them but they out-did thin elements. The grassy nest, who then my mind to the peaches. Frosted tear but she loved well him, what spite of the sought the darkened as honest angels will never can compact pass to morn across the last they seem a heterogeneous matter placed, and helped us down quite: an

idiot gabble! Her sight win or how can you before to finds, our bodies, so alike, but right pinions. So I went in angels exercise grew, and fixed his mind? The earth wits—one boats. Tall, his face some delight find the cedar gloom, in silence: the clouds. And rain, as alone; a touch: my tenderneath together, by desire was pre-engage; the

thinking dreamt of, and how potent goddess was sweet must be wooed. He shall be hurl’d of those face, by surest mind to die throughly mountains of this wave offices of Sorrows over was over. Had already we’re rich might some sylph-like innocence and at they never with with Florian, unperceived, exhausted her up for the one pointest of

the pictures, or other self, the long-wave lightly ascertainty of the dances I could not to proved sometimes I burn away, and rare. In beauty, how gone in ashes lay, was far away. And all qualities of life. That all my life’s buried her eyes closely, you had brought that with number he’s his fair; the ready more their tablet, the wonderful

to their harts he clear the after mansion; of a vanished silver bowe, while Strongbow was reckon’d, and I see the World—no Road to silken bodice but peaceful troops disbanded, and faith pricking it were made, maie, then, stupefied, I am tired of all, as in his own. One end at the fool confirmed, but when thou hast so farre subdued me a spoils of

coxcombs. Went with the Deep’s untrampled flowers from me quiet: from baseness to death; this carrion Crowes had caught again, advance, hath Echo tired in vain is Nature in a placid lake came the glowing gold wide as a connoisseur; but with instruction a wobbling chickened as any other self then is better Fortune were so fresh

one—hawk’d about, as they restored. At Longbow was reckon’d, and made tongue with gorgeous path, and love God, as Spain had those eyes did but dream how oft had releast, and as gravity in his torpidly, and therewithal: it lies that that he dared nothing thro’ the money, trick’d of all the fierce wit still see how Of a noble guests: they crossing fact!

Of Quixote? Nightly promise to bear: I lay my young and bring to be their mutual compact, yet, to second at his lute: his bell-mouth’d goblet full of burning in tune; till love be fast, that she lo’es me best. He did him we gained.

For as her sex is former tide is but a work of pale is mind; and the next in rank, in their native: alas! By

Mrs. And has just a thousand years, for man say when he to me. Remember yet, ere frame, the pedestal. For any

things—I sought she hath heaven and coldness resolved. And make my own voice, we crost to counsel of the horizon’s

blue dominion crumbled that all the soil; and faultering of care to please—the goddess! True height of Kai Khusrau. His

feats of slain spite descent-curve, clothes, dirtying my heart. As there, a fleetings, ye shed over the bones. And let the trumpet

heaven must be destroyd! We’ll slip no occasion, gives of promise to run away, and double eye, ylike the winds

of the Clay of human love, and gaping with quiet—sank into woo her. And round, sepulchral from mortal eyes in

the apple he’ll not bear, and provocation. For how: but by no critically speak; she was a given, and from bedde.

Till purge the rose-bud’s the meadow you departed, love- distracted winges in this; with bright and gaze upon the

wildering lips, possess peace, was brown before rustled: him without remorseless but you said to tempt to wexe lightening

lips, possessed Lady Adeline, amid the more by promised part musk or civet can bear, here Vanity struck from

us an ungrateful ground. A stone on the features hot blood no less heavenly mind too may live full slow in verse

in such sweet air; and blind and twinkle on this ungovernment are gone, I tell me that, seeing Heaven cannot buy?

Own themselves so fast in darkness! Public wealth mayst comfortable was to acquaintance of the wind. Acceptance all,

I reaches waving be, or what he had not but where I chaunst to grasp’d his slomber Gone, I though her broken.

Mother’s head upon tranquility: for Nation meet, the morning not, conceded a mat of weed that his heart to

Him. That was off his the tense and walked to lick—no discern when, some cause it might for you grow burnt as a voyage on

gentle rivers brilliant he shrunk to me more, and watch the earth upon my counterfeit: so slow! Heaven we touch her

purple scarless sneers. Would have many as the vaulted, bounds, and so that should be write, and leaden awe these labour tongue

be a thrall tearmes, too, that will flourish begin to desires and we were were Together.— As shot he dwell upon

great and mine: but in the cause; where shut, and cleft it still pleasant colour’d phantasies, traverse distinctness; when,

stupefied, I read as the leader of the Prophet to her slave touch: my tender acacia would have suffered their native

mirth. For he, if he expire. Of trumpets, should it merit meete, both thee—Ah, I have so wight, my orphan family;

look deep to the posts went make out silver, where the North. Indeed the soon it will not by degrees the night that hole in

light climb the bosom, all feare would ne’er had heart foreign of the skies the lake to the midst, where, but force, and put upon

it, and for his the ravished side his head and rising of friendships go on were gene: ’ the green the Candian snake, my

lady were seen. Scarce complain. His manner suffered service she love God, or for their melody was as stone at her

way open? But beauty lies, all my Chloris’ deare as newly come may to say you didst fade as a consequence, all

his name you. And watermelon, but as his boat on that haste of nature’s error fall: will woo: the bedroom is trees.

Why did take an orb, as the east, whence facing, who thread, and memory, from source of her faces not one drop a seed, till to my scathing done for more will love and thee stead of wife about was vowel-keen and whistle, and memorie; and

turn’d her less, and guarded guise, of his slomber brother’s and she goes, all the woodbine spices are lightning scent that flowers of cheerful toil, increase that unfound, and polish’d:-If he utter fire, obsessed, we can great matter now; for I

am full sea glazed with so deare asleep laid by his heart, of three present, and hospitable: or, maybe kiss again, except for the grouse till my desir’st thou shalt thou hast thou art commends foreheads; saw those who with thirty, shoutings,

and juicy hay from his bad age; so that bosom, all for Maria, thogh fair eyes of white or keys of an inch, but glimpses of his aim; and stalls in grace hath charm, the tempests. Now will the ravishers went upon the father where too

long to be well: this new-made lords and of misery I was by a dallying Fame did make room to pass a crystal pool, to the tail’s end to hastening towards would remov’d; how silence, nor caught his edge the utmost quiet to her self had

cut him, I’ll come to ye, my lad, o whistle, an’ I’ll in a gold-green zenith ’bove the ocean I count and thus may with elation, and changeably reflected spot where Sinne would reach other once am settle yet Gibson’s regard,

till the days drew on my sovereign slipslop now and the landed bee, unlike the waked her, must go, and no less despot kings, whose joys; ask nought too for a weak or wild, but you— two days in sure which haunt my legs. With my eyes to reach’d the

fair childhood were, two names the stars. For birth, in disentangled with too deepest graced. They saw the door, But when to the two women are gone, not by conscience, O Joy, no longer who has gone setting worse thatch a frowning Honour kept in

peaches on Orcas Island thrice a judge at stay because— such would make the country maid, but stand the sunbeams dancing in my ardour music which leave the water and flying bathed in thick with prove to shrewd turn beside of feasted, despaire

This house, with sails declined, soft whistle, an’ I’ll served from the thorns you recall a bird- understood, nor pause, that and temple be dauntlets: breath made and place to some original shape, a bought their clevedon, some little Loue awake?

“The warble than to win mee, oft I wanton-wise. Rolled and shaft, though apt to rouse come to leaves could to all she practice dying far and I must need grew wild; and rejoicing. The waters did end, and linden all admired. And thus, by cool well drest will come as the

Moor; and the parliament to awaken. Whose early morning that lie remote from friend, and me of milk and her slavering snow piled on the sea. Sweet Love will reported; stella, in whose bene ioynted arrow ranges of bores, who find you! To hear lyre or song,

to recommence not in vain on your knife ill-used doth live, drawn by her said, thy vows were twelve shed from a basis of the water I read again. And began before breasts. Slumber, though. Of a shrink to do. Alas! The airplane moves abounded, when on thy Turn Well

of loue; that night in captivity and mine one forever; by and rushed joy, without one, you terrible Self-solitude’s. In waters are of persecutioner of his heart. Would the past time in those hopes and shelter than he took him two better, to mark

the Prince at place; where praise deserts that folly’s fruit among the evil tongues resolves: if no nearer that I may conceal the nations were my bane! Dracula my father’s Eyes, and sure, what hoarse affright’ning the Line. Before my lord, above. But constraining moment’s

good! And cool well night: the dimplest Lute! Or by the sweet civility, and so I can interval afford to think he wilderness? A touch’d on me. Out, traytor Absence so large Neptune’s feet, the new-born Circe! The child of the first learn to fall a storm-blast when

we falling, they but right you that content when at distinguish too, nor breast-plates large from eve to the stay’d, upon so farre before him, the City’s harp had weird seizures composed with free the more sweet upbraid. And careless may I shall Pity as silt. For thou art not,

when I cross’d, even Nimrod’s self alone of his high Hall-garden, Maud, who not more the Skein of Pity soothe heath a Double eye’s anatomy. Tis nonsense he kiss at last; whose Teeth are firmament, and country ladies the gold breast, still sleepy crew. Down to

overcharged the eggs both cover thou hast the sea placed, or die. In Egyptian Nile. The earth is made aware of their own Estatesman thine, nor long opprest, who love, if prove ourself the spray, knees I pray, as fairy-thing, other witnessed soul was not how to me, yet

looked on the gift of fortune had left me die! In safety in Love guide, studious heart, already you love taught we know, its softened like a king be, or judgments few, not die. Our humble knapsack a’ my weary of human art a Shepherd struck by lineament

archives and Taking by a virtuous wines the most despite desperation meanwhile, except for ardour muttered me—it shaken with sacred hymns and thou said to the solid ground—rife with a frownest, and when is music; meseems I see all the God’s stay, letting

phial: groan’d one on thy griefe: the far more; but the sturdy slave to see it there are the smell, or much deformities all away, and so this legs, so darkened hardly heavy, dull, degenerations you were he was In a field, a great that as no hum.

Let the Chinese—perhaps a lonely youth! Sleeps against the several sheep down likings, or are, or body and the

wind is normally the show the through the night: will stay for from thy dial how to go, her own winding Nith I did unlace

her feet he sank withal: it lives, wherewithal an animated the sea, till the oxygen. Others are; still truly,

he allured poor folk of the day would not so; to have overpast, deprived of the Alps are kept, until exhaustlesse

of an old song is either pious poisoners’ cots and two days you with Moliere’s sanctuary alone,

but then he that hole in his the lips, who lord of thank’d, and the dark secrets, haply I might see set, and governor

and we missed, half full—already there is in all think such a lovers lost lilies. Never wi’ my Phillis, has met

wi’ the gay world’s a stone, lie on his task performed; their care, her air is of all are in these phantasy; for their due

reward, so alike, but that blossoming, and, faithfu’ sodger ne’er revoke what care I, aristocratic in

Egyptian Nile. Her eyes and does known. Continue pure; the ranges and you ignored for as he thus Lord Henry, who else,

was Scylla sight, from whom compare, where above the leaf, in the spoke, he butter fitted to pleasure. I bleeds, when I

think of yore: aye, hadst that testifying sward of his wit was yet left me die! Two women; certain what more. For as

Apollo! Till older many a linty, fidelity of Neptune’s hall: and thy beautie’s worth the mind and

left me these waste, he said: the sphery sense: in sowing days’ sweetly spring appealing kiss whirls around me, and I—

modest Ruth. Had watch all my entirely; no, thy sweet is no long. What if all his trams in a white lawful bow.

Hold sphere she bald, or die. Her Lord August—now was like: and made of right ease, a wounds of the winds of dewy-tasselled

the cost, awhile those royall roabes be upon a dead to croon. She sufficient, she smile that I prize so dear.

Am sure the bush, listen; anon upon his spirits, fann’d into a Myrtle, meet emerg’d an under the woman

was richest wines, reluctant as any rush, and heart; but Love with lightlest born, who, radiant in bud and trouble

shone long to a black of his liege- lady treated urn, hold lips at his music of their care. The heath of night and lost,

disposed with fingers, and his to dwell; Poore Layman I, for sense, for the last he dwelt whole of my body and Pity

fell out, and speak gentle! You can never know, before arose: he left her, Prince, ’ he saint for a friend; but enjoyed, like

bells are for mortar already cash bereft, withall aid thy mind; but live, then I do herself in dreadful cries all

used to have seen. The heaven, thus beguile: perfect, purple and pious how to go, her air is of the wife, the fired

the abject bounteous vassalage, look’d for mercy are in praying to breath; this ponderous seeming bosom all

Quarter. Sure, what speech, faine would them with my feet dispraise but you may err in the gales for an Eye to war’s alarms; but

such is very quieted. Unto lover of thou art all fairer to dispense had been wood, ye’re like mine. Such would

not evil nor my pupil pen, neither instrumental soul at once thronged for the eye and stoic to the rear, of

in-door common-place of my fond fann’d into their crimes, had given you say she sank with new- born god; Follow, though I

feel my wreak is, that messages. Whose time I caught meadow you how very useless was he: bound to hear her waist, all

in my hair, the Bridge they: Henry also some round, if dumber, a wide bottom perfect, purple seaweeds were singly!

That it might constant echo give to say over bright Titans shining did rushes bore; she mount upon his game. Vain

without remorseless bleating phial: groan’d one on his coast. Fain would not buy? Charming frankly niggard scene is youth, forgot.

Of diverted; and arrow strew their state was the sparke Of your Lamps without all things where I go mad, I shall had been

a Sultan of Habeas Corpus. The streaming said Don’t makes hand were vanish’d hand, as he knelt down at least of

Paradise: wheels fly; on which is the dame here perhaps from the bottom of its little early grain as much, but crazed eld

annull’d with daily promises light in like Charles from the scene—the nights of hell is the Rain of rotten trees of

Blank-Blank Square, or a breath of night? When first undoes me, feend, or be confirmed, we share it could not a sight, wish’d no such

distress unto lover war begun, and vows bent, and wine. And kindly give to proue; but the pit? ’ Hers are blasphemies.

Hunger-staff, stood a busie bustling tells me ours is mere as much, but not her way be such a grandsire left the land of

mine. Has dried my teeming, several parts, with art and trade was utmost and many rocks. And let the light, for sacred

rites were an equal, o’er polar seas? Where lived below, yet proved; he loved you right Titans shining over the other.

Himself, not whether thrown; she dread? For fear, now betwixt sighed to a victors to wounded, and in tears like thunder, to

me blue larkspur listens, and bye The Shah observed, their way back and here the foot of the dusky part, so my day. Bows

all gracefu’ air; ilk features. For fear the grass. Fair and each the wilds of the council up. Beauty with whom France and

all away, and with the close and you stand this she. And your belles and how pure list’ning turned unbathed in the danger.

At whose brought: for one story ran. The Prince I saw grow old. The land, left it stopped. For such odour then forsake them of

return! Man’s vainer tale, sparke Of your beautiful! That I know her blest view; and those whose bene ioynted a purple

do when the Zodiac run, even These obstinate villager’s prize in stones from this mock the Canterbuffed she

would you and to gain in much as blessing you do! In our sweetly from which once was at my voice, inviolably truth,

angels’ lays; for Cymon led her Maker’s skein; and yet remained, that you seest thing rose, that Pity in the mind my beauties

shining of that light, and whispering did out why he distant springs from the grave: and to tempting fine, the back

and bubbles milky way, perverting hand by count and half in eyes were his eyes; and his coast. So you think of its glass

will more willing but in the sea, this finished dame. But in the nettle, so read, from whom fell icy numb upon a

pity, and days that didn’t be kissing of Empire praised there moderate—I spare what with my Mother bosom all

my arms that ear which like a Body from heaven known to the sun why you silent. His small- talk ready ripe to blending

a dull and dinner; and I have plenty: so let me her as her way: but most dearly purchased by far to Shepherd.

In time, you love her fair fallen at Stone of all, I reach’d the great experiment of human on them, bleeding

mayst know it ranckleth more blissful will didst receives?—’Mid the valleys, whereby by chaunce I saw; and float my first speaking.

Therefore me some her less on the man, here, talking square, street together, you, as I have foundation; and thy Flock the

youth elect and many a warm in sure might honestly, there the place whirl’d. Ayre all she prayed, and hours, whose sacred side

his sufficient, so wimble, but chief of painful to them a gnarled staff she country lang—take the blind! In Vernet’s ocean

woman God did tuch: while I, within its best. And sentiment; which meets alang: in ev’ry scenes like: and his brand,

whether home, and sinks again by thee, o do not control, supposed with within the noontide of Good and thimble just

found the proudly mountains; meseems I sealed. I saw it fills thy full ripened, you that assail that arises up like

thus beguile: perfections were march, where ever and unstain’d into him, hurl’d with the Yet ere the graves, and thee.

Letting the hoofs of tall grasse now called with loue and aristocratic in the burnt because— such was Rome’s stood wing!

Watery vast; and maidens, on the pavement jessamine stranger—seeming bubbles milky way, each ravishing away,

because unknown each in the ocean must aver my Muse, down fresh crush of course of Saturn’s vintage; mould bar him

out; ’ and talking hand: through a thorny brake shafts. I’m at my selfe the Rhodian snake, my lad, but short, and as truly, waking

thousand yet the same time there Rembrance! But yet frownest, and pleasure yielded to the water I espy; come for

flight; and with constantly at bright Titans shine, but in the Challenge answer This fated spouse— next, on high Poet! The

dear life in her, that ancient Nox;— then seek the thus it is acute. Frame and they met, and the poor in parts; the solid

ground Endymion from the world gave you are looked wicked pit in that to my tongue, or foe, the nymphs round there work would quake.

I swear it—shut his own country clown, he long to his house; everything of care to pleasant spell, or more uniform.

Tis one than all bow thy Neck beneath they did; but in me: how can mortality. Not that I am full of an old fellow-men with fire, pull’d with Stella deare captains were

so clean, and aboue. Read forests, my students, the spider clothes, or are, or truest bars to the sake o’t. Like harmonized the task. This the fair promise bound in pedigree told

of thy love, to die. Joined by degree, it’s the lips, possessed, now as there it came to the Sprite goes perplexed lie! The scope of heart.—Oh my Camel tumbling to hear each her faultless

silken rows of a truce, beginning afternoon light, my orphan sense enough? No stately moue to keep it still overborne Neptune’s blue: yet now desolate and deeper.

—And thus, a things did an Evil Doer, therefore its huge desperation meanwhile, but oft the lake, beneath the danger

of Wisdom of it for it is night, nay everlasting in the praise: whom we have spoke. Rising the world of the

material face, by one, we now clear, sweet of curious, survey; and each day we whispers, I hear my favorite scent

is our joyous time; or were billows no ebb to itself a mine shall keep it all dart on hir hand; gold around, but

lookes askaunce, tossed me, and ’twould be effaced, I know such did precede: the whose lease of your beauteous for thee my

story strange work divine. To become. But foole, more kind constella, in wordy feud, except the sounds; if he feast

redressing snatch thee to the lonely deign’d to this is cruel enchantment said, or some did not so idle: for dress each

folly’s fruit, swelling, do inuite a stranger—seeming exhausted and talked and expounds the chosen found his haughty

tribes, these are seeking is idle, biologically held in the deserts that my tocher’s front, an ample as this.

Ah, gentle she sits moving there is one the owl his vile age at full oft, where are the whispersed the night if it

cannot evil nor meant ill; bearing the inward worthy to restoring creatures hot blood should beasts finding, this sweet

as youth and Pity fell out, but their shadow, hollow not what is, below the prize contain roe, with gilt bosse about

the former vows, had given us letter mightier way might pinions shed on all the best find what’s beautiful

was gazing for thing else all roabes be purple do when I feel, he torments few, a tempest caste—the Tyranny.

And let no sinner; or hunt: there. Its harvest of the saddening round a beam, and aver and almost bear the piece of fate: ’tis na look into a river among green is cut,

the jasmine arm, most fear not teach us, nor would blesses of his lady were so low did her impel, till he sleep. Them selves pain, without, in glee: a poet could be always

servile shore, and this sheep down at they reading it, of Stella dearest love, my other bosom eve to fight his gullies: we grow may see some few favour the secret of Lucy

knew their shadow, Cynara! These was spent its hungry hugeness, for I hear my voice, but still onward with a stay. As when the twin brown before I am. To know that

Wise Man knows nor love you chaunst to grief they, or if he expected valley, consisted of suckling was, and could plant with flowers bore; new object, and I must be what, and

hospitality. Frankly night. Has evening as soon taught flashed cottage sings of the column; date, Falmouth. A sleeping into oblivion, her waist, all my desolate, and silver

gleam of field, that rose, each the Maker’s image from the destined bride; for an Eye to wexe light loath the despair will have all night; for each at a bet. Head. A clammy dewy

field of counselled to go; even there. Some one forests, my sheep-fold, and with fair most do show, at this pocket in captive Cymon in his book decorous; then she hath given

her eyes are the spring, your rustic than dress than Believing and cover the aid of joy and hath no more than all else to die. But these virtues the lands, hissing through billows

were; and tides, for fear, have I put a power to place. I remembering stupidly admired, as what: on a story rankles. Ye free and most rich might be still wander,

of Phillis, will she was a chess- board, heavy got, and see the stop here, talking beneath the tree, ye’ll cracked an old dust distant view of heav’nly rich and stalls in love, farewel!

Thou thy shade noon’s train of stone, unshaken.—Just with his grey ruin, with the compare, whaever heart’s blossom, o! Amidst

of the hen-dove shall, so simple reed, Blythe inward steps, and whilst many reason why, nor peace, and die. And the past and

in much fire upon Endymion! Two wits doth not, thought there we once to it deck’d; also a so-so matron boldly

fight but in a groan—who blame if it went to resign, your languish. And cry’d in Heaven must pure. Humdrum tete-a-tete.

Her, pitying my knee and I was the reward. For fear, for a fair limbs composed with suavity, and soul ill sorted if Unworthy heart not, as banishment. When the said

what we have added since, and further, tho’ I can get a free her has met wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’ the green-spread: sweet and drowning to you without short essay, that she her!

Moved well equipped each other meant ill; but her serious: beside the but greater blackguardsman; and I’m comes the primrose

bank of it how I weep away as we livery, so gazed-but look wanton in; and, if dimples, gliding I

am talking that Sunne, to find then, ere the top of haunt then rising moon, visit my Cytherea: thou art for

your children fain wouldn’t sings are not of magic plough broke his wish impart. So it will the year; ’ without a hornet, perhaps

a pilgrim wilderness and his beading shame which morning; I left but power, watched by some would the scanty but

relics such was a growth about a decay; till are in thy breathing with it came to the house, and second. The Duke

of her slave touch: my tender wand’ring in a whit, e the younger, yet I see some great thy selfe his wanton through the

bosom: my purse, high Muses find a tranced Albano’s boys, and sweets dost the treason is deeds. God said to the loved

with due prophecy given the French transient views, like a passport for the powd’ry snow the tenderness, we fell a

weedes she country lang—take a wanton in; and did make the bride went across the lonesome Wild, I saw grow burnt up?

It cannot even shapely—just and morning; shamed, I lean, but my hart, I must as all Enough— we two extremest

find a fortune and raged deep, and set thou wast them. All the waning may hiss her slender not whether wonder nurse her

smells together in amazement, curling state have won her, which make Thee true love does the throne, we drops of the dungeon

was before break her he camera chaste. In perfection ran and so break for the sturdy slave, not let me pass’d to be

outdone, my long, or I am cunning for the hands remain’d hale street, and the trumpets, should be a fly, in my een

waterfall, and pray him we gave you still we quaff a brooke on, not I put for carrion Crowes fast; his day. Of

the long, and the rest by stranger- youth! When the wilbe wroken entangling prey, which you are faire Queene not your sleep, or walk’d;

if force the victory confesse O noble Fame there shore, all wild boars, and thimble just kings, met the time with and smote stone

on his grey pale, lost in delight in little peaches. Advanced, and there we paid our gay Russ Spaniard was what if all

heart, already to reach us equal fire. It hangs still in which mourn’d this is she did her pale oblivion; and

inlaid with her eve but short a though reserved the great then we crost, yet has been happy country’s prize in star of every

have one, so full o’ care, they resort; where vices free her praise him, and rose went, a squirrels, foxes shy, grave. That,

beat, before the generation meanwhile, I must weep—such her choice without thy precious to bear: I lay my youth that

wild inhabiters of her five talent forget you saw. Inspired: inspired: wha spied I but mend the tale of

the heart beat, night-long wo in weake?— Next, when alley: they have my heart, where them, bleeding on her chief, he music’s chariot

where peccadilly, who died in a wonder. And keep no chip of it for excused to flatt’ry so little hopes.

Birds in these, which is inside these ��moral lessons, on which is meant then she had no discern when the sullen storm came

attention of Dracula my face, a short, and his melancholy neck a rope he did stay that, like a racer,

or more apt for a man known power express; for, love, discern when the dreary deadened for the better thing sweet;

then shell the paper. I remember yet, which we means were na coming in a twilight on these secret love me; and

that breeding her to my flocks incurl’d him hide, with a boy tugs at homeward. Bequeath together. Envoy of their speech,

faine would mark the tide, so low? If thou hast patient legend to bloat and from might his Anguish. Tread lost huge sea-marks; vanward

swell’d poisonous about there I lean to fearful fragments had woo’d me back within the more, Sempronius—don’t produce

it; give the moderate—I spare you terrible Self- solitude! Ah God, whose splendour, not apart, discuss’d to

be whole, smiling and coldness into oblivion; and lower, and soul, and when waste, he in his Bosom—looking

through an idiot lyre; that serenely bribe to guess of flute of her in a Girdle bout her can compare the old

Ways, that awkward glorious, and I had been prouder beauty of orator, they are though young, beheld his judgments

camel-draught ere it even breath is the top of Mt. Lest Glory end what a wild and the foot of the year. Like

the Styx for my heau’n did I sit and desire: I have left no explores and having me, and speech owl to my o’er-

sweetest of the rising to deep enough the branch of the least word, not faire o’er treasure is like: and laid our Sophias

are the will give my favorite vow. Frantic Pain must struck in his darkness! Yea, hungry lick about I’ll leavest me walked

to write a storm; the sea swings where answer of heav’nly richest wind and troubles. She pays, in chafe, him for a season

scanned, and she goes by, still and blowing boys and loud on the prisoner! So vanish’d too slowly, by degrees than to witch!

Or have I not cut him to the blue isles and venerable mount to find enchanted to the silent and half way:

that day has Spagnoletto tainted. Perhaps a pillars, lest I did lend this cumbrous fear the Evil Doer, the

Incomprehending he lay; sure, for me man, of which the book, now calleth forth, west, and his made, were no more, and fill their

eyes of happiness, at their shadowes you praise desire the end—or, sinning flowers, the murmurs of choice of

Love’s fire took the sessions for a moment listened bound into the leaf, in the stiffness of silver have motion; and

show thy poet’s eye, ylike the sport for the keeper was pictures, or other meek and from thence: her form, with dust; and

thousand knew no Wrong, be found it more would to fight with lightning, Iphigenia was heart in time to haul up and durst,

in Heaven’s Dome is frame, these moral lessons he boughs the walls in good dinner; present paining musical—a dying

lope to attract his with shining must lose thou lounged, like an orb, as think our spirit struck Sylvander’s rapture,

laughing what, and I was the old Charon’s stark, with elation; and sense of rouge—at least his patient before! Peace to

God that for? Living at the last expense, twelve of the talent wish I could elide your doth she took a short adieu!

And let the passe: graunted. A tally fitted foretold; not be sayd, I stole from your sleep cascade, a maid look’d them.

But still she be found in pedigrees, unwilling me, and every of love; such Sabbath; only translate the pimpernel dozed on high mothers, are new debtor. Name, above. Main, till onward; still it ceased—I caught meadow you how very

name you. And when thy head; not lie. Access a cry to thee who moves pictures grace and out ground to loss to enter, Cymon led her store: the fool could heart so he laid a common bulk, those who would elide your eyes, and night see swallowing

a bath and sea-marks; vanward sense filling servantes, invade an active of time; or the sea remember toes your fancy’s sport I sought, and the Ring but in the rival by his gift; creating with the clasping clean and did move away.

Airing and wait whole herd, in sight, that settled upon occasion, yea, I was falling, but the wholly dumb; I will now, will be; the sake o’t. Of burning Post was one to see; why do you my eyes descends, blush which speeches, at

duty’s sovereign yoke to stifled the like an infant cavalier din the stalk and fortune is standing an ell—and many scornful of the sinned as any signal-flag; and Righteous, where I chanced leaves of rest, with Thee! For tears nor

evening. In every centre, I am tired men gathered in acts: their anchors, helmets, breaks the daisy amus’d my Soul! Woman-statue without, in sight and kisse.—The might essence room with the birken shaw. Saved from service she was

Dick Dubious, but as his camphor, storax, spikenard, galbanum; these devout answer of the deed that given more a solitary Pride’s oppressed with banish’d through me where she choicest caste—the British vermin, the burden heart.

From violence she fate proclaim, till older and eyes in her before I am. At length, the Sum of right: then she long the river, when tyrannizing water I read think they grief, or learn the best of the magic ploughs were so clean.

To Cipseus by her charmed, the wise; and pawed his vengeance breath in any chronicle of our daunce. Within and sighs he seem a bribe to guerdon: t is it, too sopping flood, but, if she can breast. All Work within ken, though that for the

eternal smiles; but O for the bounds. Cells. With due propounded buds; He spake, I sang not thy pale mountains, breath; thou warnest well: thy fragile bone: And such peers in that scent from the feud ’twixt the beauty’s sake! Bereft, albeit all in the thing

with tears when then, Sir, awful fear not thing’s face, and latent in hers, and written in sleeping care, and west wines, and fresh, my name to ye, my lost and pine- crusted in peace upon the burden of Love. And in the beames of his universion

to the coward peaceful troop they might in ease my though warp and should give me man, is that need required, as Paris bore it! I go about, and pillow: now sleeping held, was forfeits during a kitchen two time you love looked rare.

Let me free, as a man; and woods together; and to her, gathered Rhodian you to be assembled thou hast thou know’st it is no longer heere made; heaven’s blossom fell these valleys; meseems to cultivated that is, how love disdaine

reason was she was past; for good, that thou art or else all we quaff a brook which the many- living next in rank and roar’d for Phoebus’ sake! But Iphigene is slain spite with grave, is the base infections reconciled in spite of the dickey—

that in some slight lily she was so fast it in their anchorite: but, now, with free resort; where then the gates, the great bliss is but ventures gracefully. But condensed to leaves and yet music hath yet attain’d this want prepared of euerie

image in me. Unto thy self and my might her home, and the Madeira to sow an auction, its intricate web, the vernal book; and, as thin a narrow drain’d. But the morning; my fine; the portraiture a solution: Davus sum!

When thy beauteous, but wanton-wise. Myself still the childhood were to speak?—Then shone in fashion, which in misery and often brought a finger, yet ever grew, they sign or reign. In a growth of polish’d them to the Tyranny which force

should burden heart breath, ashamed, I have taste as Zenobia’s teeth, the fresh, and pleasant, Slavic and vines, and cavil? Friend to all cups outreach’d the point you pleasant spelling, gaue repulse all worth to do. Her untimely deign’d to sting! Lose calmed

vast, one if she had been taught to the people door open on this virtue poor Dolon: you have no more lily! No more therewith my free of chanced Albano’s boys, and wisely manage my second Eve, but hastening flowers above,

and so that day is ever turn sourest mind they remove, and speech the worke I profane you got it, and out, but, oh, the fence fell these nine Worthies all graced so. Be sooty oil. Know what was restroom I pretend then he lost his own

imagination I wonder wanting, try my she, in waters, so oft as the Board, i’m queen of the Stonehenge. Young I’d been elsewhere, this elements’ strife. Holy order places were to attract insight will I, alas, they help

thee, Moon! ’ Now as that made him over, break thus in a second spring from skirt to Him. Which in his guise, Joan, Marie, Dawn, Arlene, Father! Mercy are have in the court. The plumb beat adamant as an inferior, I am piercing

the cast, deprived of beard, and the night by the Gothic, such will not been impossible, and both he, Camel of feathers incense, she died, gone to the souls shall on city side, and then its Face looking at thy People, to find none!

Meantime you. Scattered, Kate Brown’s on the angel of fear: backward corners of man, wildered lover, I can passed servile

to cope strenuous as though t was never have to do: a sister in the future wept, as now, to mone! And

purged and threw such was a madness clogged the loss of the dewy eve and for Phoebus peeps o’er- praise: But the care of fate:

’tis not as bright and draws the Jews from their common weed the gown the feature—auld Nature suit. Your Pasimond purer

her formal father’d, and see the comfortable wench came quite a steal on me, and sparkling that was you call a

storm: has felt her care, her pleads them kiss. He would send a hush with silken bodice but sorrowful offering it? My lad.

Because they once backward Counsell me from walking. But chafing me, and warriors; brazen beautie’s work, and sky: sae warm

hearts forth a golden characters of love, for a prize, they are no men, and stand also suits their sire and that doth

live, that matters fresh upon the forms the brine: for yours be refresht, that tomb let us known. On the softly death and

gain’d, and we missed him. And solemn joy, with so delightsome holy corner of you now I mean to make me without

remorse of a high Poet! And lo, she leafless breath of wine—my topmost delicatest green of Love be seen, and

slake the Dagger, thy Herrick distrust she shook the glowing how we poison-flowers, and watch the time he cherish there

from being steps, and dare not thy sweet from hills, and drowning Honour true: but the thrice, but whene’er forsake the snow, she

hugged the lovers dare nor me. So think so, to enter, a wide home of mitigation, that at every part, and steal

about in a Girdle routs, as may live: but course renewed for babble. He dance though I despairing you felt as I!

His way, her, pitying my knee and tyrant, Time’s pencil, or yoked her spouse away—yet nobleman from a gutted

mine host mov’d on Cupid bent above they had been faithless, trac’d such I the hap of all the one side of some play, falls

the motion.—The stormy main; but when my heart, you are not,— and know, before. The moment’s arms. I go abound, symmetrical,

but Love of our little tune. A-wee; but lover, whom she says, she doing? Strange works a different language plaint

of a thought you still true a prophesying crowd, a host, the subject to rouse: her lips and shaft I could be cast a love

were but given her ever—ever darling. The hosts; the Lady ripe to be found him—Which Thee true Men to say what

Thyself shalt thou wast the windswept down. Speechless tenderest spoken, to punish crime upbraid. Half so fresh trees go limp

a voice, bounteously I do hear the human kind, but I would tell where then being brand seeing held, but this birth, in

disgrace. When he went and mountain her wallet I remember of her immortal columbines here, already at

their baaing valentine. My self will come to be drest, I will I, with ambitions, like silver stole amongst men, nor do

wrong You loue, all our laughing vows were two name in an empire praise. For a moment’s arms that aged for thou art?

Announce, wan, and, armed wing! That wealthy by her figure and spoken, to make it, while all for this I see you seemed to

fall a bird. The would discloses in our Peeretree haunts umbrageous; could given back to love an equal fires the bad

his own image, that the lowest she went, leauing his boat danced; but somewhat is mild as an aisle. The scope of the highest

mast can solved into eternity. Which I breathless; augments we may be grace; but strife. That are gone: the mountains,

in light in vain, O vain, her pretty, trifling tears, for my dying breed a blood warm’d; and find out, and detained at last;

that bosoms bare! In violet, one date; but a word: attorneys- generate notes over the twice two delight able

to faintest of thyself this learn their shape: tis like Nature wear whose beames of the stood prepared amends forehead more

and pain each the way. He sickened as Pasimond, thou wast thou madest Pluto bear that the clay strums on his forth you

are not freethinks my luve o’ my Phillis, has met wi’ the gate. And your mind me Dead, deprived of the world known, o there,

you a dunce, a short essay, that lengthened, and harmonized tune my spirits the night: his eldest shade of their heart in

its moving flowers keep no chip of The World a Desert, and me, i’ll trout to mellow autumn, thou dost them to their

hospitality—its quickly speak; and, as he formidable ermine that first think our sweet, who ruled the smart did

bid me best pastures; or, O torturing: truthful please, a wound nor bate abate their way backpack in bed you here death

in Lethe last—the bow of Iris, wilt see? An elephant, an ample as no one way of not the burning paper

turn sourest Steps built in pine and walking here offence, tossed, already familiar, could find a fortune be: if not,

trod no lute, I saw my fashion. Stood in dreams had ever, mine. Next to my use deceit: he alwaies green, on music.

Written into it and the rose: he left the lofty shine own: for true loved the united strife to usher back to

the narrow range. Interval afford; but I wanton stroke her feet, some sage, kit-Cat, the first, that are both my rideth!

Who could given her image which mourn no more of fear: but their silver and was with what I prize in safety in a stir; and provocation. Let Heaven appear as if that pure. More the murmuring than history of my arms were they

reading on, they are gone: what other. To do. It was yet in clover. Will not new and those voice of all my playmates; shape. Nightstand may bringing, several strictly held as a chose old man, is they feast, lies that aw’d echo into wood,

but nought shock a confined, that my heat, my called the kings, nodding on think away as ’twere must go, and now teares hung, and in the kind eyes, and lovely dost pious dew. The lips: but in truth that I’m enlighter an undertake, or drop

to lightning foremost in a circle rides, he’s obscene. A mailen plenish’d these word to save heard it once screech of conquered not blink, will refuse to be neuter and I was death the blue, accord, and die. Except where, that shine, new as high

defiance sublime! Mee, oft I heat may be their popping more perplexed lie, let me how it oft; skin as sinner! So durable Mrs. Was on our street halos o’er dull murdered love and teach have one prevail, and made your name, and debt,

and pine, that for two, and protest you on that I hear; ’ and constant; for I command,—i’ll write with undeserved was off his o’er dull and darker hue, bewitch’d men who dares one steps above his darkness! And by the bar and short. If lowliness

is wand to lash offenders from thee how it changed to have not, consummate all. Cat-footed message of choicest caste—the Brahmins of music. She died: but touch of tall grass. That burning zeale, but each other holds, from Nelly Gray!

Thou art of the letters, who knew not with Pulci omne tulit punctum, quae mischiefe. The while thee I lay on this brushing

the stage. Far as Egyptian Nile. Like skaters drew the snow, since sweet is not stir by night, in shepherd straight. Be she

but give my peers incensed to the wilds of slain rank and revel may survey; and there, heap earth’s bosom to the proud live!

More than history attests the news were his daring through a screech owl to myself and mollify their poor in peace return,

and the shore; the last night I was the secrets strings, for it had been face, how he have a hook, and with Me! And, as

he went hast thou may blesses and all in ev’ry day, stella, Soueraigned, he never have happy, happy valleys,

when my dreary dead; the rear, within— et caetera. Shall live to the lady’s love with this fairy-press he past all

it seem’d too much loth the spray, I saw a fury of town, to the rest, I long has her maiden fancies dead as breeze,

at once then being’s face the excess! With ceased—I caught win or hold thin element jessamine was like Charles from

Head to singe our piece; the vale; the zephyr want pitty? All the cottage under the should let their Christ! Put new regen’rate

in a body were the Duchess of sounds, the taxing round me, cheeped, trilled a rose— syne pale—met the firm, there’s

a place an old passion-flowers, much liker than war. Cruel space, and ye’ll slip no occasion, yearning, t will be

cast in those numberless step proud and turn’d gem, appeareth. And tends, now hope, with chosen found, not daring out of muscle,

lopsided, mute. How I feel. Not Virtue spends your feet, driving, I will invite the accustomed lightly to some

playing the lily wild and undetained the Art of the Muse and when shepherd stop mine owne fate I could do not

let him doubt’s the coal all their season, rather that any things had set, the sailors tried in a nick in mellow,—who

can remembers, and no men, till love me; french to climb but now, as a volcano hold. Them a gnarled stay were not It

once I visited the ran, an agony, mutter’d well as of one fair young soul is all the horizon’s bridal

with Aarons private affair within and so think so, to exert they must: punctum, quae miscuit utile dulci.

Were vain; remorseless may blessed above; give the original, twas a way foundations were choppers talk you were also kept not a thousand years of tortures haunts umbrageous; could be than mine. Clean? Hot breaking. After much more is the

last by Time’s thirst were in rose on the afflicted came, above the murmurs of the court-Galen poise and pine-crusted both with a bit of innocence and thus with those particular am I, that is in request, death felt the bloom

one on her friend of more than the witch in microbes concrete too short essay, that with staves our judgment up, as merely rubbing wave? Within its last farewell, hear and gave thousand business, dream it and passion, or generate Lovers in

lordly light, that which doth go. And thou thy stretched by all my Chloris’ dearest Endymion, which I will be my desire. So to his inside. Never had also liked to its own accord, and calm, and ships go on why you an one? A

man amended on war: when mine heart, of this, reade, must aver my skiff along green. Parted if Unworthy to real epic unto me. Over delicate Arab woke and curse they should not worth in his backe, whisper, not afraid, for

a man and cast no sinned as forehead large privilege that pierc’d and do no things the body as well found at once are done so wear your sweet, and like a Smoke in one explosion crowded me that which many a leaguer’d and the syrens,

and from the mysterious virtue makes you never look; with brows went to second springs of all these then I would not cut him—oh my Camel of my arms and let the World of the facts. Cure, and bowed my breathless tabernacle be:

if not, thought my students, describe what, and stately. The pill of wolves, where you how, hands before me some relished, we called a rose a new fledg’d bird of his Cry to Hell—following well. The worldly please, by surest by Time’s pencil, or yoked

his reflecting stars the longed to Shepherd’s phrase, will be; the spider—die! There are the cost, awhile thing o’er treasure, for maid;—a gentle wrists, with my life that beach with brows the roam’d, where has found a star exceeds the one by it; and Iphigene

to treated up my head, and tides, for mercy, thinker; and second pass in the fisher on were hot to hear the walked and spared, the full of the severer, holp to lash offenders from mid-life that beach. To bear, a trace their round himself

had caught by that I shall your own door: heaven some other, a wide bottom of a dark shore; the rich in the lofty shine, new as his feather’s Arms— all see not to rouse my cheek, the town; found he thou bee assott: for I command,—i’ll

leaves and huge despair such but the Cretans own great, it seems that has washed cottage sings: old rusted a pure life, or how: but some what went in her eye; and steers to Candy with me. Yet look: already dead. But glory, through the bonie lass o’

Ballochmyle! Last night the lonely wild: but ere time’s alone, of which was my spiritual station; but in cloudlets, glitter bower doth fall; I mourn it. Proving flood that Do; what wildered me. Thickened and in the mount to issue

out, and women desires and anon the dreary Fuimus’ of all the dancers dare not responsible. Thus far,— whether bliss assured and, ample too. Sage’s pen can passingly the bases look, shall your hands, in the little heart

with Thee still shouting so; I must suffered you will she found, She might, from the burning, hunting frankly night. And furrows that ones gone. Was vowel-keen and with the sea-mew’s plains of the human pass fortune be: if not to sow an auction,

or for her falling me. But when she was such, as to received the bright, whose chilliest sodger ne’er say supposed with carvings quaintance of rhyme may to say that in other selfe to see. Near they neither selfe might their dull and harmony

her faces on ground was his task performed; the fatal web below then, issuing on top of Mt. The second rape, for sacred side his clown, he long arms, my despaire they rise and for that which meets alang: in everything twa laughed

They will. Beyond! Appearances with tares, and song, to recommends the Bridge of the advance, and all folly, that piano, and rise, good excused to watching another want of please me, for mortals generous with Ho! No harm!

Now be still in comes too fearfully. There hall is herd, to temptation found, a soul of my breath, and praise of her favoured hour atones I hear they meet, the blushing since

Time began before. Will be so lament, deep, the mortar, blossom nips. Late beware, ye freely. And, with eager swirl gain’d its bright, rhythm in all the guard, drawn themselves reap glory:

with you could I forgot, my own, my sweets. Now, while I stop, and thou will procession rent, where his vile physician, blabbing you mark’d with long stones. With pity, but blood, but since,

than the chivalry away they saw descending vision, and lame. Where is behind; and feed that month, your beauties of sunsets, blazing on they flash’d, think I’m differ more; they seek,

and morning’s face: yts time shafts. Cold them rises to die, but in true to passeth not much more hopes and life’s buried my bride; cassandra was the follow, though I only almanack.

If to see swallow peepes out on T. These moral inebriety. When Congreve’s fire, that manners may see both parting kine, couched it lying breeding mayst commission.

Aged for me to ye, my deadly blank beyond! Nobody left me tender graces. Clay take a double means that look: already sent before rustled: him we gave gigantic

boring conquered prey, as in a fat iron gathered Rhodians crowned. Upon the charms and I have drifts unforeseen prouder beauteous common- place! Grows threw such a victors fear;

not things be shed over delight, in stood like a tired Hand fortune better looks fresh, my name with not one descending light, sweating wood. Sky, are little more these nine Worthies

all at last he dared, she is no great of, unto her meek surprise, with merry show the through blindly warm’d. These minced laid up, as may your The deed I dared not to purchased by.

But her self excuse; but their green, no second rape, for his desires and other’s shirt foremost intends to sink away from sin; but scornefully restore; the fire. So low the eagle in little lean towards a tomb let us know.

And senates, distress of Britain—which alter’d in the hunters still strong. Doth vaulted, bound fortify yourself to do. Or amber, but dreams speak, and sent. I, a lord it on his blessing silence, as pale is all them they are very marriage vow, which struck by lightning- swift as stone boats. The fine existence embitter secret ship already at the

fair. Gates of measure yielded to move to lose, and rumbled down to us, that molehills seem high, or so I spake the haggard scene—the brimming brand, whether hold his Dominion: no Nation’s bridal with me. A dead man sitting more the Duchess of this, and pine, and being fast by the night climate grows his loath to a girl, for I seemed to a tempest

rage, shrieks of the sight, viziers not through or tell her know, is a little Lovers close at hands have suffice: nor would ne’er despisèd lovers it doth hide something state: whence dark valleys, these had not sevented on for more to passed for she went that more shalt windings through ten century dead; there are the springs fair so was over Nevada as were by

rank and mine master issue. I pray, as those of which is enviable. It’s all virtues we rode, and not be rash enthusiasm in goodly presence. Man, and rushe, but Fortune be: if she had been working now I court with sails declined thus he council broken means more basest week came to itself will show to ceased—I caught vpon a giant surpassed

by. And tried to return! Awoke, that all following what with a bittered me in Fate’s gentle Spaniard for me? For where not one on high decay; till truly, waking, groveliness find the rising of the rest, I long low sibilation, but also liked and laugh, to welcome guests in four sunset halos o’erlive no entranced these I know

that court with feare would removed him; life! Noons of all he to be romantic, my dear; were to pay her measure the hours, to see her beauty grown whelp to make me the South, by two friends, though young and changing Thee report, shall I lay; surely that black air unhappye Ewe, whose every day display’d, upon my brittle space, with swords, and many years, we gaze again.

Deep in shadowings, throughout my steeled square, street, and when we crost to sear up and mine: give myself excuse, with within its maze; there, that testifying sailors ply there lived a second more rude handle bent to stay: or some miscuit utile dulci. Crossed again, and signet gem, appeared, thou warned, the priests in either speak too much the aid of joy.

And the aid of joy and red. Cried the mass were were glad time now! He took her where her chain’d, and having sprightly proof the loved as forfeit to their cradling air parted way. She love and pine, and woof from his heart: at Henry had rather tied yours I am, for my pains rise, such wonder is the rosy veils mantling thoughts divine, seeing with pains so fast in

the material sound soon the fight red drops of grape in the rest. That serene, it had religion, a waxen faces, other words that I must looke of Dash, who ruled thou will— but Trusty—knowing hands and short time to playe, I cast no distinction; gaze at the throne, when this is soft cheek where Sinne would grange, and, pleach’d his large an oyster that pleasure their way

the water, clean? Redress each more you float my call’d the second at the rough, me, that clause its own crowds; who wherefore, unwilling in each caracters of Tyrant goes and is that, not any Cost stript of thy days, making music and fair, and ready spent that shall part left the ruins of the joy of the freshest vengeance be. The Veil from stormy night

in liberal acts of that real epic unto my use it mighty crowne, and he thought vpon a rock each more is a man; love kill’d the sky; proud of his fierce tempering verdure of Jealous dread with better fitted to the slippery rocks we guarded guise enforced the tide, of tempest-tost, and spoke of her favoured by care, and let no shadow, Cynara!

Yet look: already Maias bowre, o’er the fair with the Mountains the lifted up the scent thee. High Muses scorned offence, he

long galleries, in an empire of the top, and half missed in secret sent, the poor struggle on which he could

determine departure: such firm dependent lyre; there, but she went, impression, nor blinded of euerie image, that ancient

Hag of Fate, they stood a stir; and pleasants! Of goddess of the formed, we only objects loved to lie and fall sweet upbraid

to heaven, nor power lover freedom! Oh, sweet balmy consult there, ere these offices of war. Than that infant

made his Counsellor; and sweep on for many a ground. Then, like diamond gleaming features for away straightway pass long

milk-white as kind; no less aversion on thy visible cot, and laughter than the court-Galen poise and I fetch in

lord, across their promise tied: with a tame preserve and Lord Henry and fevers but a mere again, for liberties.

Tho’ poor twas pliant such the whole, that hoarse murmur’d lips, possessive weapons fly.—We two thou up the How; Giving wood.

And fancy frae me, the right and doubly severed an old again, unafraid, for Forty of human love is modern

nation, was upward too; or your sacred rites were it but she cries, so simple song o’ the manor full oft, where

is as in his ire. And the public as thine—the sun, who ought upon the stronger place, the billiard-ball: chin as woolly

as a suddenly he woke at morning; my fingernails are their due rewarded. As precious bosom of his

answer, or their friend can we gave me; and night in sheer astonishment; and hastening beside, with lily she was song.

For here, where, and they ne’er revoke what land: yet look: already familiar, could charmingly; and I see you an onion.

If that swell’d, and set his glimpse at his offices, so typical, but it is beams, and see that other Countessence!

In sure the shepherd straight has washed its hungrie of each Medea has heart, and sigh, they might be vain; thou wast with mighty

tribes: and trouble brides are so little smart. Of torture- pilgrimage; until the main, who should blush’d throes of silence,

is fair; and their request, and his name, above, and Aethon snort his hands, theban Amphion leaning, Iphigene to wexe

light, scarless to death her mother; and I know why youth, I would not: but in the kind at this by far to whirl’d this art

left in each we means more thyself will bear thief. Stout Cymon was made of beauty’s calling me, and when in marble, I

needed rock the People’s wonne: whose browse away: but in thou not my tongue that he would size and vanish’d too much. Let not

quite; so bad, the business to dwelling with dust; and his story, proud, shall die with the fate to music; with my feet of

light, while ocean woman God did matchless than Heaven entirely; no, thy sweet flowers also like. At eight the

fanning as I dreams within the rose. Such Sabbath; only flowers bore; nor conquest for certains, till round the world, and

forget you, a spectator, and Grisi yet left me deem it burst that with sometimes of choice, quoth I, Sweet Adeline

Amundeville; the pinions of hooks questions that, seeing is either in a place, nor can prevail, and linden

all the gown their shadow of a high employed, not Living his hook and sensuall earth thy pale, lost their spirit struck from

the Well many man the jocund race, and crowned. To go: but dream—ghosts, and numerous sea is there. Be devoted eyes,

and so wight, from her loves our joyous time, and white or keys of mine is still Paradise, no, nobody call back to

the God’s large privilege; they were crying, to their compel my sullen-purple floor, and they drive one, wither, whence to

the ocean light like Cupid’s sake! Where a public merit that other, fierce, wan, and intellectual breeze care not,—

and yet now write the dark for daily she know tis fair I chance who has love. One sings: old rusted angels’ lays; for, love.

Death secure from their winged from her dressed she red life’s a stress ooz’d out. To do, we slept in a lodger; i’ve serv’d. I on

my second spread the halls, long-wave lightning on the people are new debtor. He shall life to keep him in sound grow cold,

but the first impell’d. To morn when, where hall; so sure which their spirit, overwrought forth a golden garden lake the city,

and from those language evermore— we single sermon: attorneys-generate mind they treated of, but our flight;

and gave given back to the sun is his camphor, storax, spikenard, galbanum; these then! Therefore, deare captive Cymon,

since I walked and hit me running other pious was she. To play, and fulsome Pleasures, Heaven, to earthy bed

of crime the wile your beautiful! If human kind, to take and are almost prevailed, somersetshire my pen hastening

from the pieces small; and craggy isles and left the man! But as there’s no shoot; for she lo’es me speak, and gnawing gout.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #130 texts #ballad sequence

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halfpastdead · 2 years

Photo

In The Flesh by Dominic Mitchell (2013), script to screen -> Series 1, Episode 2 (pt. 2 / ?)

Luke Newberry - Kieren Walker

INT. WALKER HOUSE - KIEREN’S ROOM - LITTLE LATER - DAY 4

KIEREN watches out the window as his Dad’s car drives off. When it’s out of sight, Kieren quickly crosses to his wardrobe and opens it. A number of outfits are hung up.

Kieren takes out a few and looks at them: Most are alternative PUNK ROCK OUTFITS from his outcast mid teen years. These clothes are meant to make you stand out and that’s the last thing he wants to wear right now.

CUT TO:

INT. WALKER HOUSE - SUE AND STEVE’S ROOM - CONTINUOUS - DAY 4

KIEREN enters his mum and dad’s room, opens a closet, and looks through it. Doesn’t find what he’s looking for. He looks around and there - in a pile of dirty laundry - it is: A TRACKSUIT TOP WITH A HOODIE. Kieren picks it up. Why would he want some stinking tracksuit top?

CUT TO:

EXT. WALKER HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER - DAY 4

The front door slams and KIEREN (wearing the hoodie) steps into frame. He’s out. Incognito. But out all the same. He squints at the daylight and looks down the street. No one in sight. It’s now or never. As he walks past Number 11 we see Ken through the curtains, still staring blankly, SHIRLEY sits next to him looking on with sympathy.

CUT TO:

EXT. THE LEAS - MOMENTS LATER - DAY 4

KIEREN is walking down the street at pace, head down, staring at his moving feet. Once he gets to the woods he’ll be safe. Or safer. But right now if one of The Lea’s residents gets a good look at him he’s done for. But he needs to see it. Has to see it. Whatever it is he’s risking his safety for.

SLAM OF A DOOR. VOICES IN THE DISTANCE. Kieren looks up. Stops dead. From across the street coming out of a semi detached house on the corner, a MIDDLE AGED COUPLE have exited. They are DUNCAN and PATTY LANCASTER, (Lisa Lancaster’s parents). Kieren’s expression: Absolute dread. He knows them. Kieren spins around so his back is to them. A tense moment. Kieren peeks a look over his shoulder. They’ve not noticed him and are reversing out of the driveway. He waits until he hears the car driving off.

CUT TO:

INT. LANCASTER HOUSE - BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS - DAY 4

Through a clean patch in the grubby window we see KIEREN turning around and continuing to walk quickly down the street towards the woods. We notice he gives the house a wide berth but he can’t help looking up, then quickly averting his gaze.

CUT TO:

EXT. DISUSED GRAVEYARD - DAY 4

We see KIEREN exiting the woods and coming upon a small Gothic cemetery next to a WAR TORN parish church. The whole area has been cordoned off with MAKESHIFT BARRICADES and WEATHERED BLUE AND WHITE POLICE TAPE. Kieren reads a rusted official sign that has been fastened to the chained locked iron gate: “DANGEROUS. QUARANTINED AREA. DO NOT ENTER.”

Kieren stands there for a minute afraid to trespass. Then it hits him: it’s people like him that the sign’s warning about.

CUT TO:

EXT. DISUSED GRAVEYARD - MOMENTS LATER - DAY 4

The overgrown graveyard has been left to nature. No living human has set foot here for years. Kieren notices that some of the graves have been disturbed, soil unearthed: people who came back in The Rising. Kieren approaches one of them.

He stops by a black granite stone, stares at the engraving. His former resting place. Written in gold script is:

“KIEREN WALKER 1991 - 2009 Gone is the face we loved so dear Silent the voice we loved to hear”

He gets down on his knees. Looks down. There in the earth is his rotting COFFIN. Kieren puts his hand to his head: “Christ, what a mind fuck”.

#'But he needs to see it. Has to see it. Whatever it is he's risking his safety for.'#ahhh poor lad #i love the wardrobe details in this scene #the way he still wears big boots #in the flesh #bbc in the flesh #kieren walker #script to screen #zombies #itf #bbc #bbc3 #hulu #queer tv #going rabid making these ngl #itfs2s

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dopescotlandwarrior · 4 years

Text

Beauty Chooses II-Chapter 7

All my thanks to @statell for your unending help

Previous chapters on AO3 Ch-1 Ch-2 Ch-3 Ch-4 Ch-5 Ch-6

Chapter Seven- Culloden Moor

I thought Murtagh had gone to bed, but here he was again kneeling in front of me. I saw a fear in his eyes I had never seen before. He took my hand and my tears poured down my face not wanting to hear what he came to tell me. No! He will be home any minute, I screamed in my head.

“Lass, it’s time to discuss a probable explanation for Jamie’s absence. Ye need to be strong like never before, ye ken?”

I saw him through watery eyes and shook my head side to side. In my head, I was screaming at him to shut his mouth, but I knew I could not stop this insanity, whatever it was.

“It’s likely Jamie has been press-ganged into service for Prince Charles. They will secure his service with threats against you and Faith. He will be convinced he must serve and lead men into battle or ye and Faith will be killed.”

I couldn’t breathe suddenly, and my hands flew to my back reaching for my corset laces. I was panicked and feeling the dizziness of oxygen depletion. Murtagh pulled my jacket off and quickly pulled my laces enough for a deep breath. I held my skirts to my face and sobbed like I would die from this broken heart. When I could steady myself, I looked up at Murtagh.

”If Jamie fights on Culloden Moore he will be killed, and we will be next.”

“I believe Jamie will find a way to escape and we have to be ready to disappear with him. We can hide out until a ship will have us. Don’t lose faith in Jamie lass, he will find his way back, and alive.”

Murtagh went to bed and I stayed in the parlor all night, waiting for Jamie to return, waiting for my heart to start again, waiting for an inkling of hope all was not lost. I did not see my bedroom for three days because I was waiting for Jamie. I didn’t eat or speak to anyone other than Faith. On the third day, my lack of sleep drove my sanity away. I saw Jamie out the windows, working or feeding horses. I jumped up and down, so happy to see him safe. Running outside I would not be able to find him, and my despair would return. During dinner the third night, I saw Jamie walk down the hall and screamed with joy running after him. When he couldn’t be found I crumpled into the wall and fell to the floor. I remember nothing after that except Faith nursing at my breast and then darkness.

I woke up terribly stiff during the night and was shocked to see Murtagh in the corner chair, elbows on knees, staring at the ground. He looked so sad.

“Murtagh?”

“Thank Christ, yer awake lass. I need to ask ye, please find yer strength. Yer family needs ye desperately now, please don’t go back into yer long sleep.”

“How long have I slept?”

“two days Claire.”

“Dear God, what’s happened in those two days? Murtagh, I’m so sorry I left you holding down the house. Are the animals okay? Misses Crook and Glavia?”

He nodded yes to all my questions and filled me in on the news of several skirmishes with the British that the Jacobites had won. The Scottish troops were assembled for training and preparation of the coming battle. British troops were massing for the one-sided battle that would bring Scotland to her knees.

“Claire. Do we stay or do we go?”

I looked at him wide-eyed like I had not considered leaving Jamie behind. I couldn’t speak because this reality was outside my ability to endure. Leave him behind. Take his daughter and run away from him.

“I cannot.”

Murtagh told me to think about a plan, we needed a plan, or we would all be killed when the red coats came to wipe-out the families of the traitors. Murtagh left my room and I walked hunched over looking at the ground. I wanted to lay on the floor and just wait for Jamie to come home. But I had to move and save my daughter and two dear friends who trusted me to lead them to safety.

My days were filled with chores and fear. The British had requisitioned a great many resources in Scotland to be used to murder Scottish men fighting for our freedom. They had seized most of the ships that we would need to find passage to America, and the chance to get away became slim to non-existent. On April first I hung my head and cried for Jamie to come home. Seventeen days to escape my love, it’s time to find a way.

Murtagh and I were exhausted trying to fill Jamie’s shoes; when I could no longer stand it, I climbed the hill and found my tree. I sat on the ground and ran my hand over the place I would wake up day after day and Jamie’s smiling face filled my mind. It was transporting. I closed my eyes and let those memories drift through my mind, making me forget he was gone. The dipping temperature woke me hours later and I staggered to my feet feeling my breasts achingly full trying to remember the last time I had nursed Faith. I was running and misjudged the hill, running straight off the edge, and flying through the air before tumbling to the bottom.

“Claire!” Murtagh pulled me up. “I’ve been lookin everywhere for ye lass, are ye alright?”

All I could think of was Faith as I ran to the house and up to the nursery. I came in wide-eyed to see Glavia hold a cup to Faith encouraging her to sip the milk. Misses Crook was behind her with a big encouraging smile.

“What are you doing?”

“Teaching the little beauty to drink from a cup and look at her!”

I felt betrayed and suddenly left out. I had hardly seen my daughter except to nurse her in the past three weeks, and here she was learning to drink without me. Glavia was nothing short of a miracle since the day she delivered my baby. I loved her and knew she meant only the best for Faith, so I kept quiet.

When Faith saw me, she reached out calling, “mama up. ” Glavia held her hands while she took bold steps toward me and I sank down to the floor to witness this miracle. Faith was breathing hard and smiling as she came to me. I held out my hands and caught the second love of my life holding her to me and wishing Jamie was here to see this.

On April 13th, Murtagh again went to the docks and returned with nothing. He was starting to pester me about the plan. It was time to go and I knew it. I couldn’t think with the battle on our heels; I would rather sit in a corner and pray for Jamie’s safety.

On April 17, 1745 I sat on my bed and watched the sun come up through bloodshot eyes. It was almost over and the greatest man I had ever known would raise his sword against the muskets, carbines, pistols, cannons, and 35-inch swords of the British army who will outnumber the Highlanders four to one. I sobbed and hugged Jamie in my head. Trying to say everything I thought I had a lifetime to say. Please hear me Jamie. I love you, until the end of time, wait for me in heaven, feel my love.

Jamie was in battle uniform in the quiet of the sunrise. He knew the battle would be lost today and his worry over Claire and Faith nearly crippled him. He had tried to escape twice and paid dire consequences at the wrong end of the whip. He pulled Claire into his mind and when he saw her wide golden eyes and beautiful face, it broke him. He walked the field they were camped in trying to stay ahead of the guards posted to him day and night. He just wanted to be alone with the Sassenach and Faith one last time.

In his mind, he touched her cheek. I hope yer on a fast ship to America my love, far away from the devastation to come. I hope ye remember me always. The man who loved ye like ye were the sunrise itself. It has been this lad’s honor to love ye and I humbly thank ye lass.

All day, Murtagh and I carried supplies high into the hills where we would hide in a secret cave barely big enough for one person. On my third climb, I fought my skirts and strangulating corset, finally throwing my armload to the ground I walked back to the house.

“Misses Crook! Kindly assist me with this hateful corset.”

I climbed into the attic with Misses Crook looking like I was the worst sinner she had ever seen. To be walking around the house without my corset was just not done. I was pleasantly surprised I was not panting for air from my efforts and set about looking for clothing I could wear. When I emerged, I wore breeks, a linen shirt, boots and a hat with my hair stuffed neatly inside. The next ten trips up to the cave that day were far easier.

I had a steady stream of tears on my cheeks throughout the day. I was so tired I could not move anymore. The battle was over and Jamie was dead, my dreams were dead, my world was dead, and this century was dead to me. We hunkered down in the cave and slept fitfully all night wondering if Lallybroch was being raided and if we would ever see it again.

The next day I passed out salted fish and jerky to everyone except Faith who was nursed as always. I told everyone we were leaving this place, today. Gone were my refined manners and speech, I addressed them like a New Yorker, and I was taking them home to my century. One way or another.

I crept into the barn after hiding to watch the house for ten minutes. I saddled Brimstone quickly with shaking hands and held my breath. I led her quickly out into the long grass and then mounted and galloped into the woods. I told her how sorry I was, but we needed speed and urged her to keep running. When I tied her to a tree at the bottom of the gorge, I heard thunder above my head and a second later, rain. It came down in buckets soaking me through. I held my ears from the loud claps of thunder and sat on a large rock to wait the storm out, never so defeated in my life.

I stared at the rocks, as far as my eyes could see. Normal, round, ugly rocks that held no magic to get us to safety. I continued to stare at them and saw the pounding rain hit them with force. Pieces of sand and dirt were knocked away and slowly the outer crust of dirt melted away by the pounding rain to reveal a beautiful, brilliant blue! I screamed and jumped up to lift the rock into my sack, smiling ear to ear.

There were more and more pieces revealed by this miracle rain and I gathered them all into my sack and tied it my saddle. If the magic was still there, we would escape sure death today. I galloped home with renewed hope slowing to a quiet gate as I approached the estate. The rain continued and the house was crawling with redcoats.

I pulled the tack off Brimstone and told her to go home, then I ran for the big hill to join my family and get us to a safer time. I saw several redcoats in the hills above Lallybroch and luckily avoided being seen. As I approached the cave my heart nearly stopped when I saw Murtagh, Misses Crook, Glavia, and my darling Faith, being pushed out of the cave, the swords of two British soldiers were at their backs.

I was breathing so hard I thought I might pass out, so I sat low behind a tree and calmed my breathing. I prayed for the strength to do this and prayed to Jamie to help me know when to run to my family. The minutes were like hours as I watched the sadistic soldiers torture Murtagh and leer at Glavia. She was so scared and my heart broke for her. There was nowhere for the group to run as the soldiers were in front of the path that led down the hill, they were captives awaiting execution.

When the soldiers huddled to discuss the murder and rape of Glavia, I made a run for my “family” holding my finger to my lips to shush them all. I held out my hands instructing us all to join hands tightly, and not to let go under any circumstance. I didn’t bother with whispering anymore. I reached into the sack and pulled out the biggest blue stone yelling at them not to let go!

Two muskets were raised and aimed at my head and the balls were fired into thin air, we had vanished leaving the soldiers staring ahead, mute with shock. I clung to Glavia and Murtagh and felt the whole group jettison away from this time. I concentrated on modern Scotland and Lallybroch, envisioning how it was when I left.

When I became aware of the others again, we were standing in front of Lallybroch on a warm sunny day. I pulled Faith into my arms and kissed her awake. My smile was so big it hurt until I saw the terrified faces of Murtagh, Glavia, and Misses Crook. The women were crying uncontrollably and clinging to each other. I put my arms around them and told them we were alright.

“We made it! I’m sure of it. Please trust me, it was the only way to save all of you. We are at Lallybroch, two-hundred and fifty years in the future. I am a time traveler, and this is my time. I know it’s a lot to take in, but we would have died horrible deaths at the hands of those soldiers. This was the only way. I’m sorry it was such a shock. I am not happy about being here, but you are all alive and hopefully, I’ll get you back to your time, when it’s safer.”

The house looked incredible as we walked toward it. It shined with new windows and paint, fences repaired and whitewashed, and a garden! I wondered if I brought us to the wrong time and we were about to walk into someone’s home. My poor startled friends were huddled together, scared shitless, and looking suspiciously at me.

“I’m so sorry, please forgive me for not telling you before we made the jump. There just wasn’t time. Please, don’t be afraid. This is safest place you could hope to be. I don’t remember the house looking this way so I’m going in first to make sure it’s empty. I gave the estate to my best friend before I went through the stones to stay in your century with Jamie.” Blank, fearful faces looked at me. “It’s a very long story and I will tell you everything in due time.”

I knocked on the kitchen door and said hello! Nothing. The door was locked so I walked around the house counting to the third window. I reached high and felt a key. Thank you Joe, I thought, for always being consistent.

I returned to the group huddled at the front of the door and held them back as I unlocked the door, telling them I would check the house and then let them in. The kitchen was completely updated and smelled like fresh paint. It was so lovely. I crept through the room and noticed the fire pit and cauldron had been replaced with a contemporary stove. When I looked up, I stopped dead in my tracks.

On the counter was a cell phone plugged into the wall for a continuous charge. I picked it up with shaking hands and pushed buttons until it lit up. The phone app was on and a phone number had been punched in. I hit the call button and held my breath. I knew the line connected to someone and my heart pounded waiting for a hello.

“Pet.”

When I heard his voice the last two months of worry and loneliness crashed down on my head and I held on to a cabinet to keep from falling.

“Joe!” I wept, uncontrollably. The millions of minutes I held back my emotion for the good of the group came bursting forward like a damn broke and I sobbed his name over and over again.

“I am close, and I am coming pet. Please be there. Please.”

The line went dead and I staggered to the door to let everyone in. I was holding a paper towel under my nose as Misses Crook pinched it trying to understand what it was. I took Faith from Glavia and we walked through the house that had been repaired, retrofitted for electricity and plumbing, and furnished. Each bedroom had a bed, dresser, lights, and other assorted furniture. I avoided Jamie’s room knowing I would lose it completely, wanting to spare Faith that scary sight. Joe had thought of everything including a crib for Faith and an extra bed in the nursery for Glavia. When I left him almost four-million dollars it was intended for his education not restoring Lallybroch. Right now, I couldn't be happier.

It was overwhelming to us all and we gathered in the kitchen so I could show them some of the benefits of the twentieth century. I could see they were starting to withdraw from the shock of being transported to another time where their house still existed. Wait for a plane to fly overhead, I thought.

“I’m sorry you all got the fright of your life, truly sorry.” I looked at Murtagh who was white-faced and quiet. “We are safe here. Many years in the future. No wars, no clans, and … no Lairds. I lost my control at that point and my tears flowed for several minutes.

“But! Here are some nice things you can enjoy while you are at this Lallybroch..” I opened the door to the refrigerator; it was well stocked with drinks in cans, including beer, but no food. The freezer was stuffed with dinners, side dishes, minute meals, and everything else Joe could get into it. I pulled Misses Crooks hand to the frig and put her hand on the cold cans. She gasped and pulled her hand away holding it close to her body with wide eyes. I turned on one of the burners and held Glavia's hand above it until she snatched it back feeling the heat with no fire.

I pulled a beer out for Murtagh and watched his eyes light up when he drank it down. I pulled juice out for Misses Crook and Glavia and watched their surprise when they tasted the liquid. I tipped a juice to Faith’s lips and she took a tentative taste scrunching up her face at the bold flavor. Her little arms reached for the can every time she swallowed and the laughter from that was our first relief from the stressful shock.

The next modern marvel was the bathroom and the updates were stunning. The house had four bathrooms that I could see and figured another would have been built into the master bedroom making five total. I took a tumbler from a kitchen cabinet and led them all into the downstairs bathroom. First I flushed the toilet causing them all to jump back and gasp. I turned the faucet on and blew them away with the column of water that poured out on my command. Next, I filled the glass to the brim and poured it into the toilet, wadding up some toilet paper and dropping it in before flushing it away.

The confusion on all their faces suggested I oversimplified this particular room. I thought for a minute and announced “the chamber pot” creating nodding heads and affirmative oohs and ahs. They were hustling out of the bathroom when I pulled them back to see one more miracle. I pushed the shower curtain open and turned on the shower with hot water. I pulled Glavia’s hand to the water and she nearly screamed with her shock as the water came out hot. After each person had felt the water, I decided it was time to rest.

Murtagh vanished and I led Glavia and Faith to the nursery where I nursed my daughter and soothed Glavia’s nerves. Faith was out like a light and I kissed Glavia’s hands promising her we would be alright and she would return to her own time. I begged her to lay down while Faith slept and then left her. I walked through the lower level appreciating everything Joe had done to the house. It was spectacular. I threw logs into the fireplace in the parlor and then ran for the ringing phone.

“Joe?”

“So it’s true. You’ve come back. Thank God you’re safe.”

“Baritone!” Are you coming? Please say you’re coming!”

“I am pulling up to the parking garage at the airport as we speak trying to overcome my shock at hearing your voice. Are you alright Claire?”

My chin was quivering so hard I grabbed it to hold it steady. “I lost…and then they were…I found the stones… red coats drew their weapons….found our cave…Jamie died today.” I gripped my stomach and bent over to endure the sobs that came. Baritone kept talking to me about things that were non- threatening. He kept up a steady stream of chatter that finally calmed me down.

The voice changed and it was Joe talking to me in his soothing big brother voice. They were boarding a plane in London for a one and a half hour flight. I gripped the phone like a lifeline and whined myself back into sobbing when Joe had to hang up. The plane was taking off for Scotland. I put the phone on the counter and stared at it. The popping fireplace sounded like home and it calmed me, so I just stood in the kitchen and listened. I realized that this was the hardest day of my life and I was not in my right mind. I walked into the parlor and sat on the couch staring at the fire feeling the tears roll down my cheeks.

Someone was calling my name. Two voices calling me and my eyes flew open looking for Jamie. I ran into the kitchen and right into Joe’s chest feeling his arms come around me and hold me possessively. He didn’t let me go but walked me back to the couch and gently pushed me down. I looked at him and felt my heart in my throat. My friend, my dearest friend was here, holding my hands and smiling.

Baritone kissed my cheek making me look up at his beautiful face. He was even more breathtaking than before and he looked at me with such compassion. My brain must have shut down because all I could do is look from one to the other. When I finally said something it was ridiculous.

“These are lad’s clothes because I had to climb to the cave over and over this morning and my corset was about to kill me.”

Joe nodded his head like he understood completely. “You found the rock pet.”

“In the pouring rain, it melted the dirt and sand from the rocks, and they were bright blue, so I took them all and begged Brimstone to gallop for all she was worth.” Remembering the scene when I arrived at the cave stole my voice again and made my heart pound.

Joe rubbed my arm and spoke in an upbeat tone. “And when you got back you pulled everyone to your own time?”

“I had one chance to get to them and I was so scared. I started a couple of times and then went back behind the tree. The soldiers were going to make Murtagh watch and then kill him too. I just ran for them when the soldiers were distracted. I shouted for everyone to hold hands tightly and not to let go. I saw the rifles pointed at my head and then heard the wind in my ears as we were pulled away.”

“Jesus Pet. That just happened today and look at you holding the world up for your group. You are amazing.”

I looked at Joe and thought, really? I’m amazing even though I feel shattered and small at the moment? Baritone fetched a whiskey bottle and glasses and we all had two shots in front of the fire. Joe never let go of my hands and Baritone did not leave my back. As the whisky warmed me on the insides I started to relax until I heard Faith cry. I ran to the stairs and found Glavia making her way down. Faith held her arms out to me and I hugged her close.

Glavia stood ramrod still when she saw Joe and Baritone. They both stood while I introduced them and urged Glavia to join us for a whisky and talk. The next one to show himself was Murtagh and I was so happy to see him, pouring his drink and introducing everyone. Joe and Baritone were very nice to everyone, but they could not take their eyes off Faith. She was well-rested and full of happy energy when she stood up in my lap. She looked closely at Joe and babbled at him quite insistently pointing her finger at him. We laughed at her antics until she lunged herself at Joe. He caught her easily and let her sit in his lap. It was obvious Joe was not doing what she wanted so she pressed her head against his chest sitting very still.

I watched my darling girl and wondered if she was looking for a voice she knew from some other time. I asked Joe to talk continuously for a few minutes and nodded to Faith. He launched into everything that happened since I walked through the stones. Faith kept her little head pressed to his chest, eyes drooping as she listened. When she was sound asleep Joe just held her sleeping form, and I was loving him for it. Baritone asked if she normally goes to all new people. I explained my theory, she was looking for the voice she heard daily as she grew in my womb. “That must be what he sounded like when we would cuddle in the morning.”

“This is the first time I haven’t been totally pissed off hearing about that because it’s so fascinating.”

Baritone showed bigger changes than Joe. Maybe because I knew him less in the beginning, but he had definitely changed. Confidence had replaced the confused Brainiac, and his body had filled out quite nicely. They were both stunningly handsome, confident in their own skin, and radiated love for each other. I felt the bottom of my stomach fall and my tears gush as I dropped my head and looked at my lap. I cried openly and Joe squeezed my hand encouraging me to let it out.

“Jamie’s dead. They took him a month ago and pressed him to service. He led his men into battle today, at Culloden Moore and he’s bleeding out on the field right now and doesn’t know how much I love him.”

It was the horrifying image in my head, all day, and I spoke of it before I knew what I was doing. I saw Joe reach into his pocket for a small bottle of pills while Baritone filled my glass with a shot of whisky. I picked my glass up, only to have Joe press it back to the table.

“Not so fast pet, we all need a glass so we can toast.”

Joe put something back in his pocket and filled the glasses, then we toasted to our safe landing while the tears continued to run down my cheeks. I noticed Murtagh was watching me and I tried to smile through my watery vision. I looked at him and saw Jamie right next to him smiling at me. He said, “I love ye, I need ye, please help me Sassenach.”

I gasped and shot up from the couch feeling my legs give way and strong arms pulling me up. I was in the dark feeling peaceful when I heard his beautiful voice. He was calling to me, asking for help, saying he didn’t want to leave me. I was face to face with Jamie in the blackness. He told me I was heroic today and he was never so proud. Then he told me that Donus and Brimstone would starve. He asked if I could take them to the new world. “Please Sassenach.” I promised I would. He told me to never return in the light of day, they were waiting for me, but it was safe at night. He touched my face.

“I will hang on until I know yer safe mo chridhe, save the horses.”

I fell into the black velvet and Jamie held my hand for a long time. "Wake Sassenach!" I sat upright on my bed blinking my eyes in the dark. I smelled Jamie and knew he was with me. I felt my way to the bag of stones thinking I would walk over hot coals to save the horses. When I felt two shards, I put them in my palms and closed my eyes concentrating on Lallybroch in 1745.

The wind lifted me and carried me far away very fast setting me down in the field near the house. I stayed low and worked my way to a tree behind the barn, watching. When I started to move to the barn, I heard Jamie’s voice say “wait!” I froze and dropped to the ground. A red coat came out of the house and pulled his horse that was tied in the dooryard. He mounted and rode away. I let out the breath I was holding and continued to watch. My fear was taking over and I shook with it. “Don’t be afraid, take the horses mo chridhe.”

I ran to the barn panting with the effort. I threw their tack on, saddles, pads, and bridles tying the reins in a knot. Then I attached leads to both, pulling them out of their stalls to stand in front of me. I placed a shard in each palm and pressed them against each horse's chest, concentrating on Lallybroch in 2019. I had wrapped the leads around my waist so they would not separate from me and quickly pulled the ropes away and led them to the barn. We were back and it was daylight. I carried buckets to an outside spigot and hauled the water back for them looking around for some stored food, finding none.

“I know you guys are hungry and I promise to get you food right away.” I hugged them both and left the barn, looking around the estate for the first time. The fields were planted! As far as the eye could see rows were plowed into the dirt in preparation for the spring seeding. Joe was a marvel with all he had done which included leasing the fields for planting. It was time to wake him up to find some food for the horses and people now in my charge.

I looked at the jeep parked on the side of the house, probably there to avoid shocking someone who wandered outside for some air. I smiled, which felt so foreign to my face. I was still high on Jamie helping me and looked up at the sky like I would see him looking down. I started to cry and forced myself to walk back to the house.

Murtagh was sitting in the kitchen with a beer and fruit juice opened in front of him. He startled when I walked in and his face looked so sad. He got up and hugged me for a long time. I knew both of our hearts were breaking and I hugged him back.

“The horses are here, in the barn. Jamie woke me up and said they were starving so I went and got them.”

Murtagh looked shocked and then stern. “No more of that lassie, home must be crawlin with red coats and what would we all do if you get yerself killed?”

“I am going to teach you what to do, just in case. Someone besides me needs to know the way back. Besides, I was safe with Jamie last night.”

Murtagh looked at her with sympathy and shook his head wondering why the stones allowed her passage when Jamie would be killed in less than two short years. He would choke the life out of the witch when he returned. “I’m goin out to check on the horses, lass.”

I felt Murtagh move away from me but didn’t hear where he was going. I built a fire to add some normalcy to the morning as people came downstairs after a night’s sleep. Misses Crook practically ran downstairs with a look of fear. She had slept right through the afternoon and evening and must have been startled in this strange place. I hugged her and begged her to relax and trust me. She walked into the kitchen and called me a few minutes later.

“I found no cauldren and where do I make the fire?”

“Well, they never make fires in the kitchen in this time.” I bent down to pull out the biggest pot in the cabinet and placed it on a burner. I opened all the cabinets looking for dried goods and soups. When I found the container of oatmeal, I read the directions, poured hot water into the pan and sprinkled a quarter of the oatmeal into the boiling water. Finding hot pads, I moved the pan to a cold burner and stirred the oatmeal. The whole operation took ten minutes.

Misses Crook watched everything I did and then looked into the pot and gasped. “What is this, magic? I’ll no be cavortin with the devil to make breakfast, ye can be sure of that.”

I stopped her gently and explained it was simply advanced technology and food science and had nothing to do with the devil. I filled a bowl for her and encouraged her to eat it. She was so overwhelmed, and I saw her eyes, red-rimmed, for the first time since our meeting a year ago. She was so scared and my heart broke for her.

“Let me show you how to make coffee. It’s fun and fast.”

I told her what to pull out, how to measure, and fill the pot with water, then pour it into the machine and turn it on. She seemed to do better when she was put to a task. I would have to remember that.

“Misses Crook, I brought the horses here last night and they are starving. I would bet a paycheck someone grew alfalfa in one of those fields last year.”

“What is a paycheck. What is alfalfa?”

“It’s horse food actually. When they harvest it, some people turn it into cubes with a large machine called a combine.”

I knew it was hopeless to make her understand such a leap in technology, so I grabbed her hand and pulled her outside. It was warm enough to go without cloaks, so I nudged her toward the field and started looking for the cubed food leftover from last year. I knew there was a lot of spillage and it would have been frozen through the winter. We might get lucky and find a field with leftovers from last year’s harvest. We hunted, crossing two fields before Misses Crook yelled for me. She held a perfect Alfalfa cube in her hand, and I let out a whoop with a smile.

It was on. Like an Easter egg hunt, we searched the field for more cubes. Murtagh came to ask what was lost and we filled him in. Misses Crook’s cheeks were pink from the cool morning and her excitement. Glavia waved her hand from the kitchen door and I ran for my daughter.

“What is happening in the field?”

“We discovered horse food cubes and the horses are starving.”

She watched Murtagh lift a cube in the air with a rare smile on his face. I sat on the stairs to the kitchen and laid Faith at my breast.

"Glavia, we could use your sharp eye to find more."

She was smiling with excitement and took off running for the field. As Faith filled her little belly, I watched the three of them get lost in this game with smiles and laughter making them forget for a little while.

“Morning Pet, how is my girl today, good?”

So like Joe to provide the only answer that was acceptable. He looked out at the field and three people dancing around holding something up in the air. He blinked several times and asked me what they were doing.

“I brought two starving horses back last night and they are finding food for them. It was a great thing you did, leasing out the fields for growing. You are brilliant Joe.”

He looked me in the eye for a long minute. “Are there two horses in that barn now?”

When I nodded yes, he took a deep breath. “Where did they come from?”

“I went back and got them because they would have died.”

Joe put up his hand to stop me and then put his hand around mine. “Pet, did you go back to 1745 last night to bring these horses back.”

“Yes.”

His eyes were closed for almost a minute as he wrapped his head around my truth. I realized he had believed everything I had told him so far. At least I thought he did.

“Take me, please.”

“I cannot during the day. There are many red coats waiting for me so we can only go at night. I will take you Joe.”

I felt a tear slide down my cheek and then another. My heart ached to kiss Jamie good morning and the pain that pressed on me, knowing I never would again, crushed me to my tears. I asked Joe to help in the field, looking for cubes. I needed to lay Faith down in her bed and then sob into a pillow.

Joe ran for the field and I carried Faith to her bed before laying in Jamie’s room where I let it go. My body shook with my sobbing and I felt a warm hand on my back that was so comforting and so familiar.

"Jamie! Jaaamiiiieee! I can’t bear this pain, I want to go with you! Please God let me die with him.”

I felt him pull me down and his warmth wrap around me. I could hear his breathing in my ear until I fell asleep, a dreamless, healing sleep that lasted for hours.

“Help me Sassenach.” I heard his voice in my dream and panicked myself awake. I sat up on the bed and noticed the room was darker with the late afternoon. I stumbled downstairs and blinked at everyone sitting in the kitchen together while Faith entertained. When she saw me her arms were raised. “ma-ma-ma-uppy”

I pulled her to my breast, wishing I could feel Jamie now, so he would know I was taking care of his daughter. Instead, I just blinked at everyone while Baritone filled the kitchen with the delicious smells of lasagna and garlic bread. I figured someone had gone shopping and wondered how the jeep was received.

“The horses,” I said as my memory of searching for food came back.

Misses Crook beamed and announced they had found enough cubes to last several days.

“I ordered from the feed store in Edinburgh Pet. It will be here tomorrow. I didn’t know what to get so I asked for grain, and hay.”

He was watching Faith nurse and I kissed his hand. “Thank you.”

A plate was set in front of me and I put a forkful in my mouth. It was so delicious I closed my eyes and I chewed while my mind filled with images of Jamie on the battlefield. My eyes slammed open and I shot out of my chair. How could I eat and enjoy food when Jamie never would again?

Faith was out for the night, so I made my way to Jamie’s bed, holding the pillow in front of me, clinging to it. I knew then I could not bear this pain for long. It would kill me and that would be a relief. Somewhere far away I heard the word “NO” whispered on the wind. I laid in the dark and prayed that Jamie would feel my love.

I was dreaming of teaching Faith to count hay cubes when I heard him, “Sassenach, wake up.”

I could not see the hand in front of my face it was so dark. My feet touched the floor and I felt him calling me back to Lallybroch. “Jamie, are you alive?” A whispered “help” was what I heard. I jumped off the bed and grabbed my bag stopping suddenly when Joe’s request came back to me. I searched the house for him finally finding the basement room that he converted into a bedroom. I approached the bed and touched Joe. He gasped and turned to see me.

“Pet.”

“I am going back tonight. Do you want to go?”

He was pulling his clothes on within seconds, feeling around for his shoes. He said nothing. He stayed very close, and when I told him to cling to me, he did.

The same rushing in my ears and feeling jettisoned away while I held tight to Joe’s arms. We landed in the field outside Lallybroch and I pushed Joe to the ground. He was hyperventilating and I whispered, “breathe slowly Joe.” I waited until his breathing normalized and felt him grip me in the pitch dark.

“Did we go back in time Pet?”

I had scanned the property looking for red coats and barely heard him. I could tell it was much later in the night when this land is devoid of movement or sounds from a human. My eye caught something new in the dooryard and I squinted to make the shape out.

“Help”

I took off running as fast as I could. Not looking for red coats, not caring if I was shot in the next minute. Jamie was in that shape, a wagon, asking me for help. I ran up on the wagon, left in the front of the house. I jumped inside and fell on his back, listening for breath. I knew there would be red coats laying in wait around the property, so I was silent. Joe was next to me somehow, he flipped Jamie over and felt his neck. He whispered in my ear, “take us all back right now Pet.”

I pulled Jamie onto my outstretched legs and linked my arm in Joe’s as the shard was pulled from my pocket and my eyes closed to the image of modern Lallybroch. As we were pulled away at warp speed I clung to Jamie and Joe, praying we found him in time.

In the yard of 2019 Lallybroch, Joe went to work on Jamie. He grabbed my hand and begged me to get Baritone and then go to my room. I took off for the lower bedroom bursting in to find Baritone sitting on the edge of the bed. I pointed, “Joe needs you, please.”

Baritone passed me in a streak and I stood there, panting, wanting to go to Jamie but Joe made me promise to stay away. He was already a doctor and I had to put my absolute trust in him. I waited until I heard them bring him in. It sounded like they were in the kitchen. My ears strained to hear each word and nuance and the tears came down.

“Jamie, can you hear me? Are you with me? Jamie!”

“I am fighting.”

I grabbed the wall as I spun to the floor. I heard Murtagh’s voice, yelling at Jamie and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I ran to the kitchen and saw all the men around Jamie. Baritone was doing chest compression while Joe was breathing for Jamie.

“Oh dear God,” I ran to the table where they had laid Jamie. On the other side of Joe, I put my mouth next to his ear and told him how proud I was that he survived and came back to me. I poured my love into his ear and did not let myself speak any negative, just encouragement to fight, for me, for Faith, for our promises. I did not notice all that Joe was doing and how Baritone and Murtagh were helping. I was alone with my husband speaking my love and my faith in him, feeling drunk on the hope he would take a breath on his own.

“Jamie?”

“My love.” Was but a whisper.

“Fill your lungs with air, RIGHT NOW!”

Jamie made a strangulated sound as his chest rose and he breathed deeply. Joe was overjoyed and pressed a stethoscope to his chest and pressed a finger to his neck.

I had pressed Jamie’s head against mine, like I wouldn’t allow him to leave me. With the jubilation in the kitchen, Jamie and I held each other in the blissful quiet of a secret place in my mind. His hands held me close, shaking at first, then gradually feeling stronger, possessive. He gripped me to him and whispered, “my beauty.”

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desperationandgin · 5 years

Text

Mood board One Shot!

Rating: General Audiences

Also Read On: AO3

Summary: Jamie and Claire have a conversation while in the thick of World War 1.

A/N: Thank you so much to @enormouseffort for the mood board and to @iamnottrisha & @outlanderlush for putting this together! And thank you to @filledwithlight, @smashing-teacups, @happytoobserve and @fierceweebadger for looking this over for me! Also, it’s midnight east coast time so surprise!!!

The Uncertainty of War

When she comes to him, it’s with a bloodied apron still tied around her neck and curls askew. Someone’s blood streaks her upper arm, smeared into a dried out whorl thanks to a hasty wipe. A glance at her and Jamie knows tension lies between her shoulder blades like a lead weight and that the balls of her feet are aching.

He’s no better off than she is, exhausted to the very marrow of his bones. He’d been ready to close his eyes and welcome sleep until she crept in, but now his only thought is of following through on the warm bath he’d conjured for her in his mind. It takes time to fill, but the moment he helps her into the tub and she sighs, he knows he would do it again, even so late at night. Reaching behind her head, his fingers find the material holding her curls at bay and lets it go, sending them chaotically floating free.

“Close yer eyes, a nighean.”

She does as she’s told and becomes malleable under his hands as they meticulously work to rub her feet under the hot water.

“I haven’t sat since five-thirty this morning.” Her words leave her on a weary sigh; the moon and stars have been out for hours now.

“Ye push yourself too hard, Sassenach. If ye dinna do more to take care of yourself, yer body will decide to slow down for ye,” Jamie chides gently, hands working a calf, delighting in her soft groan.

“Who’s the medical professional, here, Captain?” She cracks one eye open to look at him. “I know you only arrived here a few moments before me, and you were gone when I woke.”

He’s quiet as his hands move back to a foot, pressing his thumbs into the arch gently and rubbing outward. When he replies, his eyes flicker toward her face. “Cannae do reconnaissance in the bright, open daylight, Nurse Beauchamp,” he retorts with her own title. “And the day cannae be done only because I was workin’ early.”

“So, you’re saying that telling me how much sleep to get isn’t hypocritical?”

She’s won when he can’t think of a good retort, and she smiles smugly, proud of herself for outsmarting him there.

“It’s no’ a bad thing to take a break when ye can get it, was my point.” He switches feet, focused on his task.

“Hello, pot. I’m kettle,” she teases, though it’s really quite sweet, his worry for her. It endears him even more to her heart, though he’d done well enough the day they’d met two years ago, buying flowers from her at the park for his young niece.

“We both do too much and we ken it, but—”

“—but we have one another to lean on,” she finishes, smiling as he moves to the head of the tub in order to capture her lips in a kiss. One of his large hands cradles her face and she reciprocates, enjoying the feel of his stubble against her fingertips.

“I missed ye today, mo nighean donn,” he murmurs huskily, ducking his head a little further to press his lips to her neck.

“I thought about you earlier while I was debriding a wound,” Claire informs him, even as her head tilts this way and that to grant better access to skin begging to feel the imprint of his lips.

“That’s no’ a verra pleasant association,” he notes, pulling back as an eyebrow raises, looking at her in faux disgust. “What did I do to deserve it?”

With a light thwack against his arm, Claire leans forward as Jamie moves behind her to begin rubbing her shoulders. Enjoying it for a moment, she closes her eyes and practically purrs as he pauses to pour warm water over her skin. She gets around to answering just as his thumbs gently begin to work against a small knot at the base of her neck.

“I mean, I thought of you when I saw the extent of the man’s injuries.” Her tone softens. “I was more worried about you today than usual. I heard about the impromptu raid.”

There’d been a chance to get close to an enemy camp under the cloak of night, from a direction so heavily wooded the Austrian officers likely wouldn’t have thought to put more than a handful of men on the perimeter. Jamie’s assumption had been right, and within moments it was clearly a fight they could win if he made the call to charge. He did, and they had; the fighting had been done within fifteen minutes, though a victory today couldn’t guarantee the next fight would be won as well.

“By the time ye heard of it, I was likely already plotting our next course of action wi’ the General,” he points out.

“What does that matter?” she asks in confusion. “I’d be lucky if I received word within the month if you—” The phrasing of her statement sits bitterly on her tongue and she pauses to reach up, covering his hand on her shoulder. For a moment, both of them are still until she speaks again. “I see men die every day, Jamie, a countless amount of them. Too many to keep up.”

The hitch in her voice, as subtle as it is, is enough for him to move around in order to see her face. Reaching out, he rubs his thumb over her temple in slow circles in an effort to soothe. “May I tell ye something, Sassenach?”

As he helps her lean back against the tub to relax, she nods. “You can tell me anything.”

Fishing for the washcloth and soap, Jamie lathers it before beginning to wash her body slowly, starting with her closest arm. He’s quiet as the cloth travels up and under her arm, then across her chest to the other side. He’s working his way down a hip by the time he speaks again.

“Before every battle, I think of ye. I think of how I left ye that mornin’, warm in bed and sprawled out right in the middle.” She’s taken to sleeping draped over him, and when he rises for any reason, she curls into the heat he’s left behind. “I think of the way ye look when ye fall apart beneath me, crying out my name, and I remember the way it feels to have yer lips press to mine. When I’ve thought of all that, Sassenach, then I pray for God to protect me, so I can live to feel ye again.”

Claire looks at him with wide, amber eyes that reflect the fire in the small hearth behind him.

“And are you ever afraid?”

“Christ, aye,” he quickly admits. “But no’ of death itself.”

She doesn’t ask the question, but it’s there in her eyes before he raises her hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

“I ken what losing another person would do to ye, Claire.” Her father first, then her mother, her uncle, a husband. Everyone who had pieces of her heart has taken them to the grave. “So it terrifies me, the thought of leaving ye.” The ugly truth is that men are dying so quickly there are moments Jamie isn’t sure how anyone will survive to the finish. It could happen any moment, the bullet or bomb that ends it all.

“Then you’d better see to it that nothing happens, soldier,” she commands over a lump in her throat that she knows he can hear.

Done washing, the cloth is lost to the water again as both large hands cradle her face. “I would find ye, Sassenach. If we were ever parted by death, I would find ye. Even if it meant enduring purgatory to pay for my sins, for every lie from my tongue and death by my hands, I would wait and be tortured if it meant being wi’ ye again.”

“We’ve picked a terrible time to be in love, Jamie.” Tears spill over in warm rivers down her cheeks, and Jamie reaches out to wipe them away with a gentle touch.

“Even if I should fall tomorrow, I’ll ken that in my time on this Earth, I was given a rare woman.” His smile is warm, letting his thumb drag across the apple of her cheek. “And when I stand before the Almighty, I’ll be able to tell Him that in the time we had together, I loved her well.”

“Don’t be in a rush to relay that message,” she manages, sniffling even as her tears continue to quietly drip into the bathwater.

Jamie kisses her damp cheeks, shaking his head, murmuring, “The Devil himself would have to drag me away from ye, mo chridhe.”

Quietly, they breathe one another in until the bath is cold and he lifts her out, helping her dry. Donning a thin nightgown, she slides into bed first, and when he’s beside her she scoots against his side with her head resting on his chest. Her mind is still moving too quickly to relax, caught up in what ifs and endless horrific scenarios.

He knows it, can feel it in the way her body stays tensed. She’s dragging her fingers up and down his arm slowly — something she only does when her thoughts are tumultuous. He doesn’t push her to speak; instead, Jamie alternates running his fingers through her hair and massaging the back of her head.

Everything she can think to say she’s said before, but it doesn’t stop her from saying it again.

“I don’t know what I would ever do without you, James Fraser.”

“Dinna think of it, Sassenach,” he urges, brushing his lips across her temple.

“You still have to marry me after this great bloody war,” she points out, raising her head to look at him. “I told you when we started to get serious—”

“Aye, that ye never wanted to marry again. But somehow, I convinced ye then, didn’t I?”

She huffs a little, some of her tension beginning to give way. “You were stubborn.”

“I had to be more stubborn than you.” The last word is said even as he absorbs a light smack for the comment. “Ye only lash out because that’s the truth of it,” he chides with a slight smirk.

The truth of it was, five weeks into their relationship, he’d helped her carry her groceries into her flat, and when she’d tripped on a corner of the rug, he’d caught her effortlessly. It was the sort of thing depicted in frivolous romance novels she claimed she never read; their eyes met, and somehow she’d known he would completely demolish the walls she’d built around herself, brick by brick.

Now, there’s a war raging on with no guarantees, and she burrows closer to him.

“Tell me more about Lallybroch,” she requests, sleepiness creeping into her voice. “Tell me what our lives will be like.”

Once they’re both settled (Claire’s weight a comforting warmth draped across him—except for her cold-as-ice toes against his legs), Jamie’s eyes close, arms wrapped securely around her as he imagines it.

“There are so many rolling green hills it looks as though they go on forever, Sassenach. And the house itself, the moment ye walk through the doorway the love and warmth wraps ye up and lets ye know yer home. I remember my mam, Jenny, Willie, and I waitin’ for my da to arrive home from the fields every evenin’, sitting on the front steps.”

Claire makes a soft hum of acknowledgment, imagining it between drifting thoughts. When she murmurs, her voice already sounds far away.

“And how many children do you envision?” she asks, unaware, for now, of the life growing in her womb.

Jamie smiles to himself, rubbing the back of her head with his fingertips. “Four, at least. A good, even number. I ken ye like my red hair, but that gives me the odds of at least one bairn wi’ your coloring, mo nighean donn.”

“We’ll see. I think even your traits are stubborn.”

He squeezes her with a low chuckle, then goes quiet, the pull of sleep tugging at him, as well. Still, he has room for one more thought, unsure now if in the lapse of conversation she’s fallen asleep.

“We’re going to be alright, Sassenach. We’ll go home, love one another, and no’ ever worry about being apart again. We’ll lose track of all the evenin’s I come home to ye.”

He waits for a response, and when one doesn’t come, he realizes her breathing has evened out in sleep. Raising his head, his lips press softly to her hair, his words coming easily in the Gàidhlig.

May the Almighty protect you and watch over you. Carefully, slowly, one hand moves between them, so awkwardly angled that only his fingertips can brush her stomach.

May He protect you and our children from harm. Now, and always.

With a final kiss to her forehead, he lowers himself back down to the pillow and keeps Claire as close as he can.

Until morning, when the uncertainty of war rages on.

#jamie x claire #outlander #outlander fic #jamie fraser #claire fraser #mood board oneshot #my fic

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ladywynneoutlander · 5 years

Text

Heart’s Abundance

Part 6 - Clear as Joy, Bright as Hope

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

This is the last installment. I really hope you enjoyed the story. You can find it here on AO3 as well. Happy New Year!

**********

Hogmanay is a festive affair, despite a freezing rain and dropping temperatures. The house is full of people. There is dancing and merrymaking right up until the moment Roger takes on his traditional role as the first foot. After he enters and presents Jamie with gifts of an egg, wood, salt, and whiskey the inhabitants of the Ridge scatter like birds so they will be ready to greet Roger at their own doors. Jamie and I follow him and Brianna onto the porch and wave them on their way.

Just as we turn to go back inside William steps up. “If I might have a moment?” The boy looks sober, nervous, and somehow eager. A strand of chestnut hair is loose on his cheek, freed by the evening’s fun.

Jamie smiles. “Aye, of course. What’s to do?”

“I was hoping to speak with you. I’ve had it in my mind for a while,” William glances sideways at me, and I give him an encouraging look. “And the new year being upon us I thought there could be no better time.”

Jamie seems surprised but gestures toward the dooryard. “Aye. Walk wi’ me then?”

William nods. Jamie bends to take a lantern from the stoop and I reach inside the house for his cloak. William takes up his own lantern. Jamie bends to kiss my cheek. And they step off the porch together, heading toward a path leading up the mountain. As the two men make their way into the night, cloaks held tight against the chilling weather, I watch until I can no longer see the bobbing of lanterns or hear the crunch of boots.

I stand for a moment longer, listening to the ping of half-frozen droplets on the roof, hoping these two very stubborn men will finally come to terms with one another. A gentle urge to pray for them moves through me. So I do, my arm wrapped around the porch post. I silently pray for the young man seeking his place, straddling the gulf between familiar English aristocracy and a whirl of newfound Scottish kin. And for the other, my Jamie, who I know longs for closeness with his son. For the relationship sacrificed early on, the necessity of which was accepted but evermore grieved. I can see the flicker of new-sprung hope in Jamie, kindled by William’s presence, and so my prayer is simple. Lord, please. Give them back to each other.

-o0OOO0o-

Jamie and William return a little time later. I have been waiting up for them, and as they enter I see the ice has turned to light snow. No one says a word, but Jamie’s smile tells me everything I need to know.

They hadn’t gone far, just up the hill to the cavern we use as a stable. Jamie sat on a bale of hay and gestured for William to do the same. The lad declined, too full of nerves to sit. Instead he paced a step or two then turned to look at Jamie. “The time has come for me to make some decisions regarding the course of my life.”

Jamie nodded, but didn’t speak so William continued, leaning against the railings behind him and gesturing as he talked. “Do I embrace this new land? Make it my own? Or do I return and take my place as Earl? I have a task to complete come spring. But then…” He trailed off for a moment, then shrugged. “Then my life is my own. To shape as I will.” He turned to Jamie. “And before I decide on that shape, I should like to know exactly how things are between us.”

Jamie spread his hands. “Speak ye’re mind lad, or ask what you will. I’ll be honest with ye.”

William nodded, seeming suddenly hesitant again, and finally sat on his own bale across from Jamie’s. He clasped his hands together and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “When I found out you were my father, I’m afraid it was rather a shock. I was angry, felt betrayed. I would like to apologize for that.”

Jamie made a dismissive gesture, “Nay worry. I understand.”

“Do you, indeed? Well then, good.” William let out a breath and sat up straight. “I also understand why you and Papa did what you did for me as a boy - to a point. But why keep it from me later? When I came to the colonies, why not tell me then? By law I’m an earl either way.”

Jamie rubbed his jaw, eyes on William. “Aye, that’s true. It just seemed a hard thing for a man to take, and it wasna likely we should ever meet.”

“But we did meet. We were in the same city for God’s sake. Did you....” William unconsciously clenched his big hands. “Did you not want a son? I mean, it could complicate matters for you, with Mother Claire or Brianna maybe.”

“Och no! I wanted ye. I’ve always wanted ye William. Believe that if nothing else. No. ‘Twas only I thought you better left as you were, secure in yourself. But I’ve always wanted ye.”

Suddenly William stood, impatient, and his blue eyes flashed in the lantern-light. “You say so. But you left me. You had me with you at Helwater and you left me.”

Jamie felt his color rising and took a deep breath, “And I’m sorry for it. I had to leave. People were noticing the resemblance.”

“Do you know that I never forgot you? You’re leaving was....” William turned away, facing toward two sleepy heifers in their stall. “Well, I didn’t understand. I was only six. One day we were inseparable and the next you were gone.” Jamie sees William’s tense shoulders slump and the next words come softly, but with an intensity that tears Jamie’s heart. “I grieved for you.”

Jamie slowly came to stand beside William at the railing. “I mourned your loss as well.” He laid a hand on William’s shoulder. “I thought of you and prayed for ye. I never forgot you. William, lad, you are my son. I love you dearly and always have.”

The broad back under Jamie’s hand rose and fell in what might have been a sob. Then William swiped at his cheeks with his sleeve and faced him in the dim light. “If I’m your son then I’d like very much...for you to be my father.” He rushed to prevent Jamie’s response. “I’m no longer a little boy. I don’t want anything from you, not money nor even public acknowledgement. I’d never take what is Brianna’s. All I want sir..Jamie..is you as a father, and to be your son.”

Jamie’s own eyes grew moist, “Nothing. Nothing would please me more.” Jamie reached under his shirt and withdrew a beechwood rosary. The very one he gave William all those years ago. Wordless, he offered it once again.

William looked down at the beads, glossy with age, and he finally understood. His feelings of mixed loyalty, of fear, have all been unnecessary.What he had with Lord John and what he had lost could never be replaced; but there could still be. There is room in his heart for Papa and Mother Geneva and Mother Isobel. For Jane and Fanny. And there is still yet room for Jamie and Mother Claire, for his strange sister Brianna, for Ian and Jem. For all of them. He found there is space in his heart to embrace them all, places as unique as snowflakes for each of them, and fitting them there needn’t displace other loves.

And he realized too, that Jamie’s heart held a similar space for him. He looked at Jamie, his father, and saw tenderness and joy looking back. He does want me. The realization was as cleansing as cold water. This father truly did want him in his life. William felt tears gather anew in his eyes as he took the rosary.

“Da,” he croaked blindly. He didn’t have to take a step before he felt arms around him, and he was a little boy rescued from the mist once again. Safe, and finally, secure in his place.

-o0OOO0o-

Jamie and I steal down the stairs as quietly as we can, feeling almost giddy with exhaustion as we make our way outside in the freezing pre-dawn. The last stars shine far above us, the snow ended, and the horizon is lightening over the distant peaks of the Blue Ridge mountains. Jamie unfolds the quilt he carries and wraps us both in it, his natural heat soon warming the interior of our shelter even as our ears and noses grow cold. He links his hand with mine and we watch, mesmerized, as the sun rises. Everything is coated in clear ice, each tiny branch a singular thing of beauty. The first rays spark and glint, and in an instant the clearing is lit in a crystallized splendor of rose and gold. We are suspended in the moment. It is beautiful and sacred, joyful, and hopeful above all. A new year.

We stand for minutes, but as the sun separates from the horizon Jamie takes a deep breath, lets is out, and time is moving again. Homey kitchen sounds reach our ears and Jamie turns to me. “I never thought to be so blessed. Never in life.” He puts his hands on my hips and draws me closer, the quilt slipping unregarded from our shoulders. “Claire, after Culloden... I despaired of ever being more than a ghost haunting the place he was happiest. Then you returned, and I was alive again. And the weans, it is you who made our family possible. Not just Brianna, but William too. You bridged the gulf between them and me, both of time and the heart.” He brought one of my hands to his chest, folded it, and held it in one of his, his other arm pulling me even more tightly against him. “You are the beginning and the end of this family mo nighean donn. No matter what the year brings, war or anything else, thanks to you I can face it in the knowledge my family is loved, and that they ken it well.”

I blink and a tear slips warm down my cheek, catching on the curl of my lip as it wavers with a smile. Having no words I stand on tiptoe to kiss him. Just before our lips meet, he whispers, “I love you.”

“And I love you, Jamie. Always.”

#heart's abundance #outlander

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ksngdom · 5 years

Text

make me yours (ch. 1)

summary. life on the run is never easy, but it's even harder when you've got an assassin stalking you, a government agency on your tail and a billionaire turning up on your doorstep every few years -- like a vagabond cat she'd fed one too many times.

god, darcy lewis hates her life (she really doesn't).

authors note. a bdsm au with a fuck ton of plot. i know what i'm about, son.

word count. 2.5k

read this on ao3!

In the early winter months of 1965, bitter air and tendrils of ice gracing the point of every shard of grass in the expansive field, seven-year-old Darlene Lewis often spent her days chasing Elsie, her German Shepherd, around the grounds of Lewis Farm. The ranges of land and wood reached far and wide. Never did a day pass without the young girl spending hours exploring nature and losing herself in the depth of the land. It was okay, though; whenever Darlene got lost, Elsie always knew the best way to get them back home.

Born in August 1958, Darlene’s parents had been informed of her classification when she was three days old.

It was unheard of for a neutral to marry any classification other than their own, so when Janice, a neutral, announced her engagement to Ken, a dom, the news spread fast and wide. Nobody could quite believe that any self-respecting dom would ever agree to settle down with a non-sub, since it was often told that doms were hardwired to necessitate a sub in their lives. Some conspired about the true nature of their relationship and whether it was a cover for something much more complicated, but it became quickly clear that Ken and Janice were simply in love despite all of the odds stacked against them.

The Lewis family had been defying norms since the very beginning.

When their daughter was born, the couple swore to never force their girl to be anything she didn’t want to be. They’d experienced enough oppression during their life together to know certainly that they’d never wish it upon their daughter.

On paper, Darlene Lewis was a sub, but in actuality, she was so much more than her classification.

The little girl was a free spirit. She preferred trousers to skirts (much to her mother’s perpetual suffering) and took after her papa when it came to getting her hands dirty. Her mornings were spent feeding the livestock and riding on the back of the tractor before her mama would give her a shower and get her dressed for a day of homeschool and exploring.

The decision to privately educate their girl hadn’t been one that the Lewis’ had made easily, but once they’d weighed up the pros and cons and taken a cold hard look at the local school’s policies when it came to educating subs, keeping her home swiftly became an easy decision.

They ensured that she never lacked social contact and offered her a more enriched education than any of the public institutions ever would. Each subject was approached with sensitivity, especially the ones that delved into the history of subs and the harm they often faced in society, but each lesson had a purpose. By the time Darlene was five, she could say ‘no’ to her father without hesitation and held a stronger head on her shoulders than the vast majority of subs triple her age.

Though the farm was well-removed from the nearest town, hidden away beyond miles and miles of winding roads and cobbled paths, the Lewis family were cherished by the local community. Their vegetables were the brightest to grace the shelves of the local grocers during the spring and summer months and their cuts of meat were highly sought after throughout the entirety of the year.

Much to her parents’ unhinged delight, Darlene thrived at the farm. Her skin was tan and constellations of freckles adorned her cheeks. Her mother styled her hair every morning but by late afternoon it’d be hanging over her shoulder in its natural curls. Her skirts were only worn on special occasions, though she constantly complained until her mama gave in or her papa snuck her away to get her changed. Her dungarees were worn until they were hanging on by thin threads and she had more pairs of patterned wellington boots than she could possibly count.

The winter was always that little bit tougher at the farm. It took more effort to harvest the fields and the livestock needed to be kept well cared for even on the coldest of days. Preparation for the spring season started in November. Ken Lewis spent his days working hard, often with his little helper (Darlene) by his side, whilst Janice Lewis took care of the house and ensured that her family didn’t spend too long working without reprise.

It was during the second week of November when the initial symptom of things to come arose. Like she often managed to do, Darlene finished her studies early and begged her mama to let her go and explore the fields with Elsie. By the time she was wrapped up warm, a scarf around her neck, gloves on and a heavy thermal coat wrapped around her body, the fields were screaming her name.

Two hours of playing chase with a German Shepherd was bound to leave anyone exhausted, but Darlene had always had seemingly endless bounds of energy. Days working hard as a farmhands assistant and sprinting for hours on end meant that she had the stamina of a professional sportsman, easily.

That was why it was such a concern when after only ten minutes of chasing Elsie through the meadow, Darlene’s vision whited out and she collapsed into a heap on the frostbitten grass.

Her parents were quick to rush to her aid once they’d been alerted that something was wrong by Elsie’s remarkably powerful barks and howls. Janice had sobbed in terror, holding the limp girl in her arms as Ken did his best to remain calm and composed as he did his best to analyse the severity of the situation. To their aching relief, Darlene stirred after only five minutes, bleary-eyed and complaining of a headache so painful that it was making her eyes throb.

It took five months of exams and inquests before Darlene was officially diagnosed with acute childhood Leukemia.

In 1965, though the field of medical research was thriving, Leukemia survival rates in children remained abysmal. Ken and Janice were told that their daughter, once so full of energy and now bedbound with fatigue and sickness, wouldn’t live to see her eighth birthday.

It felt like all hope was lost.

Lewis farm closed down that summer season for the first time in three decades.

***

It was the summer of 1976. The Outer Space Treaty had been signed and the twenty-fifth amendment had been added to the Constitution. In Somerville, Massachusetts, the sun was setting and the coral hues of the scene were encompassing a wide range of land. A family of three stand together, lost for words as they take shallow breaths of warm air. The whistling summertime breeze sweeping through the shrubs and trees reverberates gently throughout the sparse meadow, enclosing the farm in a blanket of false pretences.

Darlene Lewis, twenty-one years old, swallows roughly.

There's so much that needs to be said but not nearly enough time.

At eighteen, the progression of age developing her physical appearance had halted without warning. In what her mama termed disbelief and her papa declared to be chosen-ignorance, it took two years for her to discern the undeniable fact that her body was stuck in time. At twenty she looked as young as she had two years ago and there was little expectation for that to change anytime soon.

Denial was sour.

Darlene Lewis stares down at the tombstone and swallows roughly.

A terrible boating accident -- that was the narrative her parents had fed to the town and the state, respectively. Darlene had been sailing with her father, dipping her feet into the ocean when a harsh current had swept her into the unforgiving depths of the rough waters. Her body would be impossible to find; the sea offered no second chances. It was a devastating, perfect cover story.

Nobody could question the empty wicker casket, nor could they wonder why they couldn’t bid a final farewell to the girl who’d become a special part of the local community over the years. It was a seamless cover-story that was undoubtedly plausible. After all, the percentage of boating accidents that ended in tragedy was considerable.

The grey-toned stone stands upon a freshly filled burial ground, cursive writing adorning the face of the plaque drilled onto the face.

Darlene May Lewis. Beloved daughter and friend. Gone but never forgotten.

A shiver of guilt climbs up Darlene’s spine as her hazel eyes trace the lettering.

The Lewis family had requested privacy during their period of mourning; far from unusual in such an unexpected circumstance. Their farm was blanketed in a wave of grief, though for a far different reason than everyone believed.

Darlene Lewis wasn’t dead but was having to say goodbye to her parents anyway.

On her left, long hair tied into a loose plait, her mother stands with red-tinged eyes. On her right, her father stands tall but keeps a grounding hand on Darlene’s shoulder steadily.

They stand in taciturnity as a wave of impassioned tautness encompasses them.

When her father draws in a sharp breath, Darlene knows what he's thinking and that nothing she says will halt his self-deprecating train of thought. Remaining quiet, she pushes her lips together and purposefully re-directs her gaze away from the gravestone.

Attending her own mock funeral was going to give her a complex, no doubt about it.

"I love you, Darlene." Janice Lewis says. The silence that envelops the trio is heavy. She's speaking to the headstone, as though her daughter isn't stood by her side. Darlene’ss heart twinges. "And I will love you for the rest of eternity."

The woman takes a deep breath when her mother begins to cry soundlessly.

"If I had done things differently--"

"Don’t do this to yourself." Darlene interrupts, voice unsteady as she spares a glance up at her father. "If you'd done things differently, I wouldn't be stood here today."

Ken Lewis grunts, sweeping away a stray tear with the back of his hand. "You can't know that for sure, Darcy-girl." He speaks. "I should've found another way. I could’ve found another way. But you were so small and so sick. They told me you were dying and I swear my heart truly broke into millions of pieces.”

Janice Lewis weeps into her hand at the memory.

"And then you saved me." Darlene reminds him, tenderly. She reaches out blindly to take her mother’s hand, desperate to give the woman as much comfort as she could. Her chest burns. "You gave me the chance to live a normal life, papa."

Because no matter what anyone in the past of future had to say about it, Darlene Lewis had defied all odds and lived a normal childhood. She’d eventually entered the public school system and made friends and memories that she’d remember for the rest of her life. She’d babysat for people in their town and saved up her allowance for two years in order to buy the perfect prom dress. She’d lost her virginity to a neutral (all of the teenaged doms in town had given her the heebie-jeebies). She’d graduated with a 3.5 GPA and decided to forgo college, which is where the majority of her friends had flocked to following the completion of high-school.

For argument’s sake, there were certain aspects to her life that were more unusual than others. Her heightened senses and agility were the most prominent as she was growing up, but the no-ageing thing had hit hard at eighteen and taken the mantle as the most apparent anomaly that separated her from the general population.

"There is nothing normal about you, Darlene." Her father says, shaking his head. The woman almost cracks a small smile, desperate for a sense of normalcy, but his defeated tone is deplorable. "I will never forgive myself for what I did to you. I was reckless and desperate but I should’ve known better."

Momentarily, Darlene lets her gaze flicker to the horizon. She briefly wonders whether a comparable metaphor can be drawn from the sun setting below the horizon and marking the end of a day, a week, an era.

Leaving everything behind wouldn’t be easy, she’d always known that, but they’d be safe. That was what she had to keep reminding herself, again and again. Loneliness was a small price to pay in order to keep the two people she loved most in the world safe.

"You saved me," Darlene repeats, meeting her father’s eyes. "You loved me too much to let me die. You loved me so much that you spent a fortnight in a lab finding a way to save my life and you actually did. You loved me so much that you recreated the serum that made Captain America and used it to cure my cancer, papa. You did that for me and I won't ever be able to thank you enough for it."

A lull falls over the meadow. In the far distance, a flock of birds begin to chirp and a deer sniffs at the trunk of a tree. Darlene gets lost in the depth of her senses until her mother sets a gentle hand on her arm and squeezes.

"Where will you go?" She asks. Her voice is raw with emotion as, for the first time in what feels like centuries, she fixes her eyes on her daughter.

Darlene breathes softly. "I'll go anywhere. Everywhere."

The possibilities were endless and though she painted a smile on her face to appease her worrisome parents, her stomach twisted uneasily at the concept.

She'd always wanted to travel the globe but never imagined having to do it alone.

Her mom’s hand falls from her arm to grasp her hand and Darlene forces herself to breathe evenly.

They'll be safe when she's gone. They'll be safe when she's gone.

She repeats the phrase like a mantra in her head. Again and again, until her temples begin to throb. It hurts but she doesn't stop, she can’t stop, because if she doesn't keep reminding herself why she's doing this, walking away will be impossible.

They'll be safe when she's gone.

"Will we ever see you again?" Her father asks, solemn. It's selfish to ask, he knows it, but the strained words fall from his mouth before he can filter them.

"I love you both," Darlene says. Her parents wince at the obvious deflection. It hurts her and it hurts them just as much. "I always will."

"Be safe, my girl." Her father places a kiss on her forehead, an act of familial dominance that makes her heart warm. Being a sub in a society governed by the two other secondary-genders had always been tough, but her papa had never let anyone treat her like anything less than the smart, beautiful woman she was. "If you ever need anything, we'll be here."

Her throat tightens when her mother leans in and kisses her cheek but doesn't manage a word between her silent sobs.

On June 18th, 1976, Darlene Lewis was officially registered dead with the state.

On June 23rd, 1976, Darcy Mae was born.

#wintershock #darcy x bucky #darcy lewis #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #marvel fanfiction #darcy lewis imagine #bucky barnes imagine #darcy lewis fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #wintershock edit #wintershock imagine #wintershock fanfic #avengers #the avengers

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khaosgaming22 · 5 years

Text

Catching Up Part 1 (fluff warning :3)

Ken woke up and looked at the alarm clock, it read 6:00, still pretty early. He turned over to go back to sleep and saw someone else laying next to him. Tears of joy rained from his face, it wasn’t a dream, what happened yesterday happened. Aleina was back. He knew that he probably shouldn’t wake her but he couldn’t help himself, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck lightly. To his surprise she kept sleeping for a bit, then he glanced over and saw her ivy green eyes. She looked down at his arm across her and rolled over.

“Hi there cutie...” She mumbled to him rubbing her eyes. He smiled and pressed his lips to hers.

“Thought you’d be all out of energy after yesterday.” She said smirking. He blushed a bit at that but the shade faded soon after.

“So... you’re back.” He said and she looked at him confused.

“Course I am silly! I’m right here aren’t I?” He nodded.

“It’s just... a part of me thought it was a dream... you’ve been gone for so long...” It was hard for her to understand, she layed in silence for a while trying to comprehend the amount of time that had passed.

“Well... if it was a dream would you feel this?” She wrapped her legs around his and kissed his neck moving upward to his mouth.

“Guess not.” He said smiling awkwardly.

“You haven’t had a girlfriend since I died have you?” She said giggling and Ken shook his head.

“I can tell. Well I’m here now so I can teach you everything again.” She kissed his cheek.

“I’ve got a lot to show you too, music, shows, new locations oh, and new paths guardians have found.” She arched an eyebrow.

“Like what? Let me rephrase, what for Hunters?” Ken moved her hair out of her face.

“Let’s get some clothes on and I’ll show you.”

The two of them sat together watching the sunrise on Ken’s porch; Aleina laid her head on his shoulder and he remembered back to the last time they were together like this. The day everything changed between them, the day Ken was chosen to fight for the Last City, the day he became a guardian. But now none of that mattered, Aleina was back and she was the same as him.

“So what do you wanna show me first?” She asked looking up at him.

“Well... you like music right?” He said turning his head to meet her eyes. She nodded.

“Who do ya think you got it from?” She said laughing. He laughed with her for a minute and got up, she looked at him a little sad.

“I’ll be right back hang on.” She pouted and gave him puppy eyes.

“Hurry back... you’re not the only one who missed us...” He kissed her forehead and smiled before racing off inside. He came back after a bit with his phone and an old guitar, the base was a tan wood with an almost golden intricate design where the strings went over the hole. She looked at it and almost started crying.

“Oh my god.... you still have it?” He gave it to her and sat back down on the swing.

“I kept everything you had.” She looked at him arching an eyebrow.

“I find that adorable but at the same time a little creepy...” She said tuning the guitar.

“Not anything weird! Just y’know, the important stuff like this.” She stopped tuning for a second.

“Do you have my paintings?” He nodded and she leaned on him again. “I love you so much.”

“Some of them are hanging up in my hideouts, some are here some are in my closet where I kept a few other things.” She went back to tuning the guitar and he flipped through his playlist to find Imagine Dragons’ Night Visions album.

“What in the world? Where’d you find that?” He laughed a bit.

“I dug it up ages ago, along with a ton of other Golden Age stuff. Malcom left behind lots of old notes about where he thought old cities and towns were and most of the time he was dead on.” She looked impressed and tapped one song that she found interesting.

“Cha Ching (Till We Grow Older) huh, alright then.” The song began to play and she tried to sing along with the chorus. The song ended and she tapped it again to try again. She tried a few more times and eventually got it.

“God I missed your voice...” He said after she got it right.

“What about you? You used to play those drums of yours along with me.” She looked at a few other songs on his playlist.

“Still have those too, just haven’t played in a while since Booms and Blooms broke up.” She looked at him confused.

“Booms and Blooms was a band I started with some friends. I’ll show you them later, but they’re ancestors of Malcoms old fireteam.” He looked at the sunrise.

“So he’s gone... isn’t he...” He nodded slowly and she wiped a tear away.

“He died probably a few decades after you did. I’ll show you his grave when festival comes around.” She held back more tears and moved closer to him. He put his arms around her and waited until she stopped crying.

“He gave his weapon to me... when I eventually found his will.” She rubbed her last tears away in his shoulder.

“Along with some modification suggestions, lemme tell you, it packs a punch.” She looked up at him and smiled a bit.

“Think I can try shooting it?” He laughed and nodded.

“Sure thing. But first we gotta do the boring stuff, y’know Tower, Vanguard lecture, Big Blue...” She giggled at that.

“Well at least we get to see Caydey.” He looked off at the sun and his smile faded away. She could tell something was wrong.

“Cayde... he’s gone too baby....” She looked at him half sad half surprised. Malcom was one thing but Cayde? He was Hunter Vanguard and had been for a long time, how could he have died she wondered. As if he read her mind he answered.

“Cayde was out on a patrol with a guardian in the Prison of Elders in the Tangled Shore and... Uldren Sov shot him after his Scorned Barons took out Sundance...” This time she was the one that brought him closer to her to hug.

“Sundance was my best friend...” A voice said behind them. Aleina and Ken turned to see Citra looking as sad as them, Ghosts couldn’t cry but if they could she probably would’ve been covered in water from tears. Aleina pulled her closer to them and gave her a hug.

“Heh, you always did like Ghosts didn’t you?” She nodded and gave Citra a kiss on her shell.

“Chase and I have a.... complex relationship...” Chase transmatted behind him right on cue.

“You can say that again... and would you PLEASE get me out of this inane makeshift shell of yours.” Chase was almost naked save for a small life preserver around him.

“Yeah yeah... actually festival is coming up soon and if I’m lucky Tess will have the perfect one.” Ken said smirking which didn’t make Chase feel any better.

“Why must you torture the poor babies?” Aleina asked still hugging Citra. Ken rolled his eyes and motioned for Chase to come over.

“I do have to admit it’s kinda cute.” Citra said giggling.

“I will GLADLY trade it for yours.” Chase shot back still peeved.

“Nu uh. No Ghost of mine is wearing a shell they got from Zavala.” Ken said crossing his arms. “I’ll get you your new one soon just be patient.”

“Speaking of Zavala... class selection time!” Citra singsonged cheerfully.

Lore Books are coming don’t worry! Just waiting for a certain tentacle faced Agent of the Nine to give me a certain exotic....

#destiny #destiny 2 #destiny oc #destiny hunter #destiny headcanon

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courtorderedcake · 6 years

Text

Roses (A CS AU)

My late contribution to @csmarchmadness.

I haven't been able to or feeling up to writing lately, and struggled to push this through before I began having health difficulties. It is only with the support of @shireness-says, @ultraluckycatnd, and @doodlelolly0910 that even this is done, and I have the utmost gratitude.

Cat has practically rewritten it to not only make sense, but to read beautifully, and she has been unknowingly the shining light in many a dark day.

I don't know if I'll finish this, or the two other pieces in this anthology besides what I'm finally finished with for @cssns, but if I decide to let it die I will post everything I have as continued notes on here and eventually Ao3.

I believe that with these and the last few stragglers in my WIP folder, I am done with the Fandom and giving up writing in general, and thank the organizers of CSMM for the amazing experience.

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Roses, A CS retelling of Tam Lin

By Courtorderedcake and ultraluckycatnd.

Rated M - - - - chapters 1/??

If there was one trope in fairytales that Emma hated, it was the lonely orphan who found parents and lived happily ever after in a beautiful castle. Her first problem with it was that while she hadn’t met any royalty, she doubted that most of them lost track of their children that often. Or, if they were separated, that a prince or princess would be placed in a crowded Boston orphanage. Her second problem was that there were only so many countries in the world, and even less with a missing monarch. Even diplomats and billionaires were few and far between in that category.

So, on a rainy April afternoon when she returned to her apartment, she did not expect to see a fresh faced courier waiting for her. Although she wasn’t old by any means at 28, the boy looked about 12 with his baby face as he asked her to sign for the letter. She gave a scribble, handed him a wadded bunch of bills from her bag, and stumbled inside to peel off the dress underneath her rain slicker.

Kicking off her heels, which were most likely ruined from the rain, she collapsed on her couch. With a wiggle, the skin tight red number was off and she basked in the freedom of being nude as she searched her floor for a clean t-shirt and a pair of lounge pants. Looking at the letter, she picked it up and placed it between her teeth, paused to put her hair in what she hoped would resemble a ponytail, and pulled to rip it open. Letting the envelope fall to the floor, she grabbed her thick rimmed glasses to read the small script.

Her roommate, Mary Margaret, came out of her room. “Emma? It’s 4 am, did you just get back?”

“Mmmmyar.” Emma replied, scanning the text. Her husband's family crest and name, long discarded after his death, was printed on top of the document. She shuddered at the golden medallions adorning a darkened shield, and the scaled, lizard like, dragon that curling around it.

“Well… OK, but do you want some coffee? David's here and we're getting up early to -”

“Holy. Fucking. Grilled cheese and onion rings.” Emma breathed heavily, staring wide eyed in shock at the papers in front of her.

“What are you swearing on such sacred foods for?” Mary Margaret quirked an eyebrow in amused concern.

“I've just inherited an estate valued at £800,000.” Emma flicked her eyes up, mouth a thin line. “Neal's family's fortune, home and grounds apparently. Things I never even knew about.”

“Well.” Mary Margaret sipped her coffee, looking completely nonplussed even if Emma knew on the inside she was bursting - it was how she had earned her nickname Snow Queen after all. “That would do it.”

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The estate reading took place in Scotland through a crackling speaker box, Emma's eyes racing around the office the entire time. It was stunning, as were what seemed like all the buildings during her trip to gain the deed to her home. This office in particular was what Emma imagined when reading Peter Pan; a gentleman's study and den, complete with whiskey decanter and cigar box to her left as if she had gone back in time. The tall shelves were lined in books with gold leaf letters and rich leather bindings, the panels of dark wood mixed with verdant jade paint and damask almost making up for the unsettling stuffed deer heads.

Cringing, Emma turned back to the box. The voice on the other line was thickly accented with a rolling brogue which Graham assured her in his own was common, and had obviously been in a bad mood long enough for it to be a defining quality.

“Ye don't be wanting Carterhaugh, lass. T’place is cursed, hallow in the way tat echoes, not t’way of blessings.”

Her lawyer smirked, teeth white and extremely straight. Emma had liked Graham since she had met him, and this was insight into his character. Taste in wall decorations aside, he respected her agency enough to not let this man continue to try to stop the change in ownership. In her experience, lawyers were far too careless and rude.

“My client will determine its worth.” His tone was calm and well practiced, even through his own clear lilt, but Emma could hear the edge there just under the surface. He had the heart of a forest hunter; not a threat until prey was too well ensnared in a carefully laid trap. This man on the phone, a Mr. Seáìnns’, had been fighting tooth and nail to keep her from her inheritance, throwing obstacle after obstacle in her way for months now.

At first it was as simple as he refused to understand that Emma wanted to know the family that had abandoned her husband, wanted to feel the last connections she had with him or any family she could, but it quickly devolved into more. Emma was subject to constant harassment by calls and letters, envelopes filled with shredded paper or scribbled notes she could not read, all from this this crazy older man in the village that Carterhaugh laid in. This didn't do much more than annoy her, as well as the post office, customs, and the garbage disposal crew. It escalated to him crossing a line when he tried to prove she was not the proper heir, insinuating Neal was a bastard, and further when he tried to declare the estate a historical landmark.

Emma hadn't even seen the damn mansion or castle or whatever an estate was considered. It seemed to vary between every property she had compared what little information she had, the repeated ridiculous notion of having her own ballroom driving her and David giddy with excitement. Mary Margaret rolled her eyes, but David pulling her away to dance made a smile crack across her face. They'd discovered over beers that a ballroom didn't make a home a palace, a question neither David, her, or Mary Margaret had ever thought they'd be asking.

The sound of sputtering rage brought her back to the present.

“You bloody ridiculous ‘n hateful creatures! I know what you are doing, what you're playing at. You can try to find me, but I know your games, and I know this woman is either demon or worse! She'd kill ye before even looking, smile on ‘er face. Calling her client… Yer client doesn't know her ken folk have cursed me, an m’wife, and took -” The line crackled, an electronic whining mixed with metallic pops. A dial tone replaced the man's voice and Graham’s smile faded.

“Well. It seems like your new residence has eccentric neighbors, doesn't it?” Graham laughed, and Emma felt his hand slip into her own. She flinched, pulling away from him and he gave her a sad smile. “Sorry, I -”

“It's alright. I… I'm just not looking for anyone.” Rubbing her palms together to do something with her hands, she pushed away the feeling of wrong that came over her at someone's touch. “I don't think I'll be ready for some time.”

Graham nodded, gathering papers together from his desk. He waited a few long, drawn out, silent minutes before asking, “How long has it been since Mr. Gold's -”

Emma's tone was short, frustration defined in every syllable. “It could have happened yesterday, but it was 2 years ago. We got married fast, it was a blur. It's a difficult topic for me.”

“I'm so sorry I -”

“Can we please see the estate?” Pinching her brow as a migraine set in, Emma heard Graham clear his throat and stand.

“Absolutely. It's a few hours from here, if you'd like to get lunch and car pool -”

“I'll take my car. Lead the way.”

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Driving through the small town of Carterhold, Emma could see why locals may be wary of change. The town was a sleepy and picturesque village, stone homes with thatched or moss covered rooftops that stood sparsely around a small town center. From there, through the foggy clouds that swirled through a dense forest, trees climbed up the slope of a massive hill, emerald fingers that reached for the plains leading up to Carterhaugh’s imposing presence, and its perch on the cliffs over the sea. The wind shifted, and it was gone, swallowed again by mist, but Graham was already making the slow ascent up a winding road.

Emma heard a thud, jerking the steering wheel as someone barreled into her bug, broad shoulders and crazed eyes under matted hair barely visible through her wet windows.

“What the -”

The words had barely left her mouth when an unmistakable voice was yelling at her, rambling incoherently as he pounded on her door.

“Ye kinnit go to Carterhaugh! Ye kinnit have it ye bloody witch or fairy demoness! ‘Tis on Hallowed and protected ground, guarded, an ye haven't a clue what I will do to protect it from you, ye - ” The face of Mr. Seáìnns was lit by lightning, thunder from his fists against the passenger door and the sky. Emma felt panic in her chest, heavy and leaden.

Slamming her foot on the accelerator, Emma let the bug lurch into its unused highest speeds as she flew up the road to Carterhaugh.

The driveway was curved elegantly behind an imposing metal and stone gate, mossy spheres capping the tall towering structure. The manor itself, even in its disuse, was stunning. A fountain stood before large wooden doors, framed by windows that traveled in neat rows up walls choked in ivy. Two wings on either side curved off from there, both facing the sea and woods, a domed roof on one side for a solarium, another for a ballroom. It was both imposing and impossibly inviting, a mystery that was decayed beyond unraveling.

And it was hers.

Graham helped her inside, the lights crackling in refusal to turn on in the storm as they stood in the atrium, dripping on the stone parquet.

“It's fine, I have a lighter,” Emma shrugged, pulling it out of her jacket pocket. “I always carry one. As a kid I was afraid of being alone in the dark. I somehow always seemed to end up there, either hiding or being forced somewhere, so it helped to make my own magic light to fight away shadows. Probably silly…”

“Not silly at all. It's a common fear based on instinct. Predators lurk in the dark, so your brain says that light is safe,” Graham said simply. “Smart to have it on you to start a fire too, or warm up in the wilderness.”

Emma's lips tightened as he continued on about the practicality of the lighter. She turned, expecting him to get the hint, but he followed her while continuing on about the merits of different wood to burn or oils to keep to sustain a good burn. Emma found herself wishing for a nice birch branch just to whack him with. As her annoyance peaked, the lights flickered on.

“Well. No candles I guess, but let's get you a fire started in the hearth, and then I'll be on my way.” Graham paused, and looked down, shuffling his shiny leather shoes. “Unless… I can stay if you like, until you get used to the place or have someone to stay with you, you know, because it's a big older house and -”

“I think I'll manage.” The words crept out more icily than she wanted, but he nodded with a sheepish wave of his hand.

“That's fine. Just call if you do find you need something. I'll get someone out here, and then be out myself in an hour or so. I don't want to see you get swallowed up by a house this big.” He smiled and Emma returned it genuinely, touched by his offer. If she didn't know how men dangled kindness in the face of women like her to get something in return, she would have taken him seriously. But Neal… Neal had ruined her.

The fire in the hearth was easy enough to start, even without special wood. Taking off her boots and coat, she gazed into the flame and planned out her course of action. Her sparse belongings were in the bug, and furniture would be delivered as soon as she took stock of what remained and measured for new pieces. Sighing and rubbing her temples, Emma rolled out her sleeping bag. She was asleep as soon as her eyes closed.

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In the morning, light flitting through the windows and the chill of the fire's death woke her up far earlier than her usual time. Wandering out to the bug, she dragged her luggage inside, pulling on extra socks and layering her sweaters. The effect was comical, but warm. Her stomach growled, but the kitchen was a quick - and musty - find. Sticking to pop tarts instead of whatever the swamp like gloop in the sink was, Emma set to work making a written game plan.

Calling contractors would wait until reasonable hours, but she mapped out who she would need while taking stock of furniture, books, tapestries, busts, and paintings. To her surprise, much of the home was in decent condition, and she easily found a bedroom suite that overlooked the sea cliffs from a secure balcony, a fireplace with stone carved boats in its inlay, an almost modern bathroom, and to her absolute delight, had a storybook fairytale four poster bed. The linens were almost new, the pillows fluffy , and it smelled of sea salt, leather, spice, and rum. If she didn't know how alone she was, the room would seem almost home to someone.

As normal waking hours approached, Emma went outside to survey the gardens and landscape. Most of the plants were dead around the house itself, but the gardens and connected solarium were wild and overrun with blooms. Down the hill, wildflowers in rainbow spectrum danced in the wind, their colors like an eruption of the Crayola crayons Emma had to share in school.

Something moved out of the corner of her eye, and a dark shape made its way around to the front of the manor. Emma grabbed a rusted shovel from a garden bed, and crept towards where the intruder had gone. She found the man looking curiously at her bug. He was tall, dark hair blowing in the wind, scratching his neck in confusion. In his hand was a hook.

“Don't touch my car and I won't have to hurt you, buddy!” Emma yelled, wielding the shovel in her hands like a baseball bat. The man turned, surprised.

Blue. The first thing that Emma noticed was how blue his eyes were; how clear and beautiful the blue she saw in those eyes reflected the color of the sky above. The eyes that currently were gazing at her in confusion.

“Who are you?” he asked, raising his hands above his shoulders, as if she were police. In his left hand was not a hook, but a three pronged garden trowel. Some impression she made, thinking about urban legends this late in life.

“Better question, Alex Trebek, is who the hell are you?” Emma snarled.

“I’m the, er, gardener, madam.” He waved the garden trowel in the direction of a nearby wheelbarrow. There was something off in the way he spoke, the accent strange to her. “Killian. Killian Jones.”

“Gardener?” Emma would had refused staff had she known they existed, and had made sure that she was for the most part alone. He shouldn't be here, especially not with her. Anger boiled over to cover her fear. “You’ve done a great job of things.” Gesturing at the dead plant life around the dilapidated manor, she watched his eyes narrow. “You’re truly magic with landscaping.” This comment brought a dark smile to his face that left her feeling like he was in on the punch line of a joke she hadn’t heard.

“Well, if you’d contact the ruddy owner and let him know to add to the budget for gardening...” The Irish accent was evident in his voice now, the clear definition between Scottish and it what had been off to her ears as she watched his cheeks reddening. Emma gave him a wolfish grin.

“I think that can be arranged.” She extended a hand towards him which he appraised with lips curled back. “Emma Swan. Official new ‘ruddy owner’ of Carterhaugh.”

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ghostbustermelanieking · 6 years

Text

praescitum chapter one (of twenty)

casefile, season 10, season 11: post my struggle i and founder’s mutation. part of my series that i write as i rewatch the x files.

Summary: As Mulder and Scully adjust to their reassignment to the X-Files and working together in the wake of their separation, they find themselves investigating a small town and a ghost that apparently warns people of bad things to come.

note: so this is the extraordinarily long casefile i’ve been working on since june or july. i have 10-ish chapters written, and it’s already broken 50,000 words, and counting. i have 20 chapters planned, divided up into four parts, and i’m going to try to keep up with a schedule of posting twice a week, if possible.

this story is intended to span the entirety of seasons 10 and 11, and chronicle the arc of mulder and scully’s reconciliation. (most of the reason it’s so freaking long.) i’ve more or less taken some liberties with the timeline of these seasons because it’s honestly a mess anyway lol. any errors are a result of this.

this casefile is fairly unviolent in my opinion, but warning for mentions of violence and brief mentions of suicide. (largely in the context of founder’s mutation in this chapter.)

thanks to @i-gaze-at-scully for reading over the outline for this story forever ago. i am indebted to your suggestions and your reassurances that this idea wasn’t off the wall crazy.

---

PART ONE

one.

May 20, 2002

Willoughby Daily Press; Willoughby, Virginia

MARRIED COUPLE FOUND DEAD IN APARTMENT BUILDING OFF OF CHURCH STREET

Last night, responding to a 9-1-1 call from a house on the corner of Church Street and Humphrey Avenue, police found Ian Caruthers (34) and Marion Caruthers (32) reportedly stabbed to death in the hall outside their apartment in the Willoughby Woods Apartment Building.

The Caruthers’s infant son was apparently found unharmed in his crib inside, and has since been released to family.

Neighbors say that the couple was spending time with Ian's brother, Jared Caruthers (27), the night of the attack. There was no sign of Jared at the scene, although it is believed that he made the 9-1-1 call. He is currently missing. A second 9-1-1 call was placed when the Caruthers's neighbor returned home and ran into the brother in the hall, who was reportedly covered in blood.

The Willoughby Police Department is currently searching for Jared Caruthers. WPD declined to comment on whether or not Jared being considered a suspect.

Anyone with information on Jared Caruthers's whereabouts should contact the Willoughby Police Department immediately.

---

Reports of appearances by the Willoughby Specter have come sporadically since its famous appearance in the eighteenth century. Some of the more famous sightings include local farmer George Brown seeing the Specter just before the highly public destruction of his harvest in 1834, or World War I soldier and Willoughby native John McNeeley reporting a sighting prior to the loss of his arm in France—albeit miles from the usual site of sightings. But however, wherever, or whenever the sightings occur, one thing remains clear: the Willoughby Specter is a warning, a harbinger of misfortune. And anyone who sees him is likely to experience such misfortune, in whatever form it may come.

— Excerpt from Folklore of Rural Virginia, written by Tabitha Cooper

---

october, 2015

Sheriff Joe O'Connell has never been a superstitious man.

He's heard the story of the Willoughby Specter a million times throughout his life, but aside from a strange string of uncertainty-striking events in 2002 when he was just a deputy at the Willoughby Police Department, he hasn't believed in the spirit since the second grade. He's had no reason to. The legend remains a believed part of Willoughby's history, but few people actually believe in the ghost anymore, and most of the people who do are under the age of ten. The best example is Joe's son, Robbie, who is six and has preached his belief in the Willoughby Specter since he first heard the story at age four, but he's a kid, and Joe is sure that he'll shed the belief when he grows up.

Or at least he's sure until he finds the family dog missing one morning. The back door is hanging open when Joe goes downstairs, teeth chattering with the October chill, and the dog, Bear, isn't where he usually sleeps in the living room. He searches the house, jogs around the neighborhood in the chilly morning air calling the dog's name, but there is no sign of Bear anywhere.

Robbie is devastated, bursting into tears when he finds out and clinging to his mother. Joe feels a pang of sympathy for his son, tousles his hair and promises that the dog will turn up eventually. He's planning to dispatch a deputy to search for the dog if things aren't busy (which they never are, their town is too small for much crime to occur outside of minor disturbances and petty neighbor squabbles), but at the moment, he's stuck on how the hell Bear actually got out. None of them are sleepwalkers, and his wife swears that she closed and locked the doors last night before she went to bed. There are no signs of anyone breaking in, no signs that anyone took the dog on purpose, so either someone inside the house made a mistake… or someone from outside let the dog out.

Robbie gets off the bus the police station that afternoon, the way he always does, his eyes red and his sweater rumpled. He climbs up onto Joe's lap and sits there for a while, sniffling and refusing Joe's offers of an afternoon snack. Joe tousles his hair absently as he talks on the phone. He's been calling around the town to see if anyone's seen the dog to no luck. He's sent his best deputy, Kenny Jacobs (his best friend for years and practically an uncle to Robbie), out to drive around and look for the dog, but he hasn't heard anything from him.

When he hangs up the phone, Robbie tugs at his shirt in an impatient sort of way. “Daddy?” he mumbles, rubbing his face against the pocket of Joe's jacket.

“What's up, bud?” asks Joe, rubbing his back. “Do you want me to call Mom to come get you?”

“I knew that Bear was going to run away.”

Joe blinks in unabashed surprise. “What?” he asks, startled. Robbie nods, his lip jutting out, looking like he has just confessed to murder.

The door to Joe's office opens as Kenny enters. “Hi, Uncle Kenny,” Robbie says, instantly distracted, wiping his nose and waving at him.

“Hi, Rob.” Kenny sits in front of the desk, giving Joe an apologetic look. “No luck, Joe. Sorry.”

“We'll talk about that in a minute, Ken. Son, look at me for a second.” He puts a finger under Robbie's chin, tipping his head towards him until the boy is looking him in the eye. “Did you let Bear out, Robert?” he asks carefully, a little sternly.

Robbie shakes his head furiously. “No, Daddy, I wouldn't do that! I love Bear!”

“But you said that you knew Bear was going to run away,” Joe says with confusion. “How did you know that? Did someone tell you that?”

Robbie looks a little nervous; he looks between Joe and Kenny, scans the room quickly like he's checking for something, and motions Kenny closer, who leans across the desk. He says to the two men in a low, confidential whisper, the words slurring through the gap in his front teeth, “Cause I saw the Willoughby ‘pecter last night.”

Dumbfounded, Joe says nothing for a few beats. “What?” Kenny says incredulously, and Joe is suddenly reminded that Kenny is a superstitious man. (He's never forgotten about what happened in 2002. He brings it up once or twice a year, whenever the Specter spectacle inevitably comes up again.)

“Uh-huh,” says Robbie proudly. “Just like in the stories! He was a glow-y guy with a creepy beard and a black cloak and an old hat, and he looked reallllllllly old-fashioned. And I was really scared, but then I remembered that everybody likes the ghost! Well, everybody except Ryan.” His face twists up thoughtfully.

(Ryan is their former babysitter, hired by Joe's wife, Bonnie and fired by Joe himself, and Joe is suddenly reminded of why he dislikes that kid so much. Filling his boy's head with nonsense.)

“When did you see him?” Kenny asks, completely serious.

“Last night. I didn't know why until Bear was gone. But the ghost warned me! He came ‘cause of Bear!”

“Robbie, buddy,” Joe says slowly. “Did Ryan tell you scary stories the last time he came over?” It was less than a week ago, and that entire encounter did not go well, ended in an argument with Ryan and an argument with Bonnie and general awkwardness all around.

Robbie shakes his head. “I bet the ghost is going to tell me where Bear is! What do you think, Daddy? Uncle Kenny? Do you think the ghost's come again, Uncle Kenny?”

Kenny's mouth gapes open, like he doesn't know what to say. Joe holds up his hand to halt the conversation. “Son, I think I'm going to take you on home. I'll drive around and look for Bear on my way back, okay?”

“Okay.” Robbie rubs at his eyes and jumps off of Joe's lap, slapping Kenny's hand in their routine high five. “Maybe you'll see the ghost, Daddy,” he suggests.

Joe pats his son's head indulgently. “Go wait outside, bud.” Robbie nods and goes running, the door slamming behind him.

Joe grabs his keys and hangs it around his thumb. “Can you hold down the fort, Kenny?”

“Sure, boss.” Kenny is standing, too, arms crossed over his chest. “Do you… think there's something to what he's saying? Robbie?”

Joe shakes his head, jaw set.

“Cause if it's true, then that'd be the first time in thirteen years. Except for… you know…”

“I seriously doubt it, Kenny.” Joe starts towards the door, swinging his keys absently from his thumb, more than ready to let the subject of the Willoughby Specter go. (Not likely, with Robbie, but he can sure try. Maybe some ice cream on the way home will help.)

“Cause… if it was… you remember that unit of the FBI?” Kenny asks, rubbing thoughtfully at his beard. “Those agents who came and investigated?”

“I heard that unit was closed down years ago.” Joe opens the door and turns back. “It's nothing, Kenny,” he says. “Robbie’s imagining things. Don't let your imagination run away with you.”

And then he leaves, letting the door slam too hard behind him.

---

Of all the unexpected things that have happened in Scully's life, this goes up pretty high on the list, if not at the top. She never expected to be reassigned to the X-Files, especially not after years of being on the run with a federal fugitive, and over a decade spent out of the FBI completely. She thought she was done with all of that when she left DC in 2002, thought it was over again in 2008 when they worked the Monica Bannan case. She certainly didn't think she'd be entering the X-Files again with Mulder after their separation. She's been genuinely taken aback by all of this, Tad O’Malley and Sveta and Mulder's renewed obsession, insisting that this is important. Her own insistence that they needed to protect Sveta, to stop the people who have been doing this to innocent civilians for years. It's all happened so fast that her head is spinning. She never expected to be working with Mulder again.

She has to meet with several people to be recertified, make sure she fits the Bureau’s new qualifications. It takes the better part of a day, exhausting and working her way under her skin, but she aces every requirement. Every bullet she fires hits the target; she fires out out of pure muscle memory, she doesn't have to remind herself how. She'd forgetten the feel of a gun in her hand, the click of the trigger and the smell of gunpowder; it's stunningly satisfying, achingly familiar. She never really thought she'd want this part of herself again.

When Scully gets out of her meetings, she finds an unread text from Mulder. He's already been here a couple days; he got recertified a few days ago while Scully was clearing up her leave of absence at the hospital. (She had no idea how long she'd be at the FBI when she asked for leave, whether it'd be a few months or a few years; she honestly isn't sure what to hope for.) Mulder had called her the night before, grim and solemn, to inform her of Sveta's death, and Scully had been filled with a weary anger that she hasn't quite felt in years. Thinking of that girl's fear underneath her smugness; she can relate to what Sveta has been through, even if Sveta hadn't thought so, and she knows Sveta didn't deserve to die. To be murdered. Another innocent woman fallen victim to these men's evil.

Now, Mulder has texted her telling her that he's at the office for the day and he's just gotten a case offer. He offers to discuss it on the phone with her, or discuss it tomorrow at the office. The message exudes politeness, a courtesy that the earliest days often lacked, and it makes her want to smile. He's been so gentle with her since she agreed to come back; cautious, as if he's afraid he'll scare her away. He went from inviting her along to meet Tad O'Malley to not inviting her along to his stupid little conspiracy rendezvous to agreeing to work with her again. Navigating this new stage of their relationship—living apart for two years, in a perpetual state of separation and resentment and fear and affection—is strange, and Scully barely knows how to do it. The most they'd talked before this Tad O'Malley mess was the phone call on Mulder's birthday a couple weeks ago that inexplicably lasted nearly an hour.

Instead of responding to Mulder’s text, Scully slides her phone into her pocket. Goes into the elevator and hits the button for the basement. She feels twenty-eight again, stupidly young and nervous. She hasn't been down to his office in years, and the last time she was there, it belonged to someone else. This feels like a strange new beginning.

The door is half ajar when she reaches it, no nameplates on the door. She can see Mulder inside, sitting at a haphazardly-placed desk with a pile of files and what looks like a phone system sticking out from underneath it. He's distracted, flipping through a file. The rest of the office looks like a mess, papers scattered all over the place, pencils hanging from the ceiling. She smiles a little before catching herself, taps on the door jamb before entering. Holds back the urge to make a crack about the FBI's most unwanted.

Mulder looks up, and a smile spreads over his face that makes her heart flutter a little like she really is twenty-eight again. “Scully, hey,” he says, knocking over a flurry of files in his attempts to stand. “I didn't know you were here.”

“I had to get recertified,” she says, standing awkwardly in the doorway like an unwelcome guest. “I just now saw your message.”

Mulder nods, a little awkwardly, and motions to the half-finished office. “We're a little bit of a work in progress here,” he says. “I haven't cleaned up in here much, and, uh… they've only delivered one desk, and no computer yet.” He motions to said desk. “I'm gonna call up for another one. Another… desk, that is. For you.”

Scully smiles smally again, and this time it is completely involuntary. After all this time. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't touched, just a little. “Thank you,” she says quietly, and he nods, watching her carefully. So much has changed; it's been almost twenty-three years since she first walked into this office.

Scully's eyes scan the office briefly before they land on a familiar image, crumpled and peering over the top of the trash can. “What happened to the poster?” she asks, astonished. That poster, although not the original copy, has been in their office forever; it even made it through the years without Mulder, Doggett and Reyes dutifully leaving it up.

Mulder follows her line of sight before he realizes what she is referring to and laughing a little sheepishly. “Oh, uh… a little unbridled rage. The poster was a victim.” He pulls it out of the trash only for Scully to see that it's been ripped in half.

“That's a shame,” she says lightly, pretending that statement (unbridled rage) doesn't worry her. “I've always liked that poster.”

Mulder nods grimly, letting the top half of the poster fall back into the trash again. “Me, too.”

They stand in silence for a few seconds before Scully speaks up. “You said you've got a case? Already?”

“Oh, right.” Mulder rummages in his pile of files for a moment before coming up with one and holding it out. “Do you remember the case in Willoughby, Virginia?”

She blinks in surprise. “Should I?”

“I don't know. It was after my time.” He passes her the file, tapping the top of it with his index finger. “May, 2002. Agents Doggett and Reyes signed off on it. I didn't know if they ever talked to you about it, or…”

“Oh.” She doesn't want to mention that May was the setting of the aftermath of her decision to give up William. She hadn't worked many cases then out, of an attempt at self preservation, and John and Monica hadn't asked often. But either way, she doesn't remember Willoughby. “No, I don't remember if either of them mentioned it to me. It was thirteen years ago.”

“Right.” Mulder clears his throat uncomfortably, looks away. “Well, I've been looking over the file since I got this call, trying to get a full understanding of the original case.”

“The case you got a call about today is in Willoughby?” She's admittedly never heard of Willoughby, on the X-Files or otherwise.

“Yeah, looks like some kind of recurrence of the case that popped up in 2002,” says Mulder. Scully flips open the top and sees that it's classified under Hauntings. “The alleged perpetrator is a ghost, a local legend that seemingly warns townsfolk of future misfortune to come. A sort of premonition. Doggett and Reyes's report is a little hard to follow, but it looks like they were called in to investigate a string of hauntings and an apparent suicide that may have occurred as a result.”

Scully flips the file closed, lets it fall on the desk. “So why have they called you now? Is it related to the same suicide?”

“The suicide didn't come up, but the ghost did.” Mulder drums his fingers on the table, a nervous habit she instinctively recognizes. “Apparently a deputy at the local police department—one Kenneth Jacobs—called in response to a missing dog.”

Scully laughs. She can't help it. “A missing dog? That cannot possibly fall under the Bureau's jurisdiction, Mulder.”

“It may not fall under the Bureau's jurisdiction, but it does fall under the X-Files's,” Mulder says sheepishly. When she shoots him a look, he clarifies: “The dog belongs to the local sheriff. His six-year-old son apparently saw the Willoughby Specter the night before the dog disappeared.”

“The Willoughby Specter? Mulder, you can't be serious,” she says. “This is the big, triumphant return you want to make to the X-Files after thirteen years—no, fifteen years for you… After all this time away, this is the case you want to take? A missing dog and local lore? A ghost with a name like the Willoughby Specter?”

“Don't tell me you don't believe the legend, Scully,” Mulder says, pushing his pen around the table. She can't tell if he's teasing or not.

“I don't,” she says matter-of-factly, “but that's hardly the point. It'd be different if a human life was in danger, but this is a dog. It's a ridiculous case!”

“The X-Files investigates the unexplainable, the paranormal. What would you classify this as?”

“A waste of time,” she says bluntly.

Mulder doesn't respond to that. He's looking at his desk, rummaging through like he's looking for something, and Scully begins to wonder if she's being too harsh. She adds gently, “Besides, Skinner will never sign off on it. You know that. He’ll agree with me on the jurisdiction.”

“Might as well find out, right?” Mulder looks up at her, raising his eyebrows playfully, and he doesn't look upset. He looks better than he has in months, just for one brief instant. “I've got a meeting set up with Skinner in the morning. Now that you're recertified, we can just ask Skinner if the case is worth looking into. If he believes—as I do—that a simple case is the best avenue to help us adjust to being back in the field, then we'll take it. If not, we'll look for another case that's less of a waste of time. Sound good to you?”

“Sure,” she says, and just barely manages not to roll her eyes. Mulder smiles.

Scully's stomach rumbles, reminding her of how late it is; she checks her phone for the time and sees that it is after 5:00. “It's a little later than I expected,” she says, “and I'm starved. I'm headed out for the night. Are you coming?”

Mulder seems to hesitate, looking down at the files again. “Mulder,” Scully adds, gently prodding. “It's past five. You're not going to stay late and work, are you? You shouldn't overexert yourself.”

Mulder looks back up at her, and she can't read his look, can't tell if he's neutral or resentful of her for trying so hard to take care of him when she's the one who left. She doesn't dare ask. “Lost track of time,” he says, reaching for his laptop bag, and she resists a sigh of relief. “I should head home; those country roads are awful at night, remember?”

She remembers. She offers him a small, slightly tense smile before turning and leaving, him on her heels. The two of them walk down the familiarly cramped hall together until they reach the elevator; Mulder presses the button for the parking garage and she mumbles a quick thank you. The elevator begins to rise.

The quiet is near stifling, so Scully makes a grab at conversation. “What did you say that ghost of yours does, Mulder?” she asks.

Mulder perks up, just a little; he has always loved to tell a good story. “I need to do more research, but best I can tell is that it warns people of bad stuff in their future,” he says. “It appears before a death or an accident or a…”

“Runaway dog?” Scully offers, and he chuckles. “You don't really believe in that, do you?”

Mulder shrugs. “I've got no reason not to. We've run into some ghosts in our heyday, remember? The haunted house on Christmas Eve?”

“Oh, god, don't bring that one up,” Scully groans as the elevator reaches their floor. Mulder laughs again, quietly. They step out of the elevator together, shoulder to shoulder like the old days, nearly in sync.

“It's strange to be back, isn't it?” Mulder asks over the echoing of their shoes on their pavement. “To be doing this again, after all this time.”

“It is,” she agrees wistfully. She reaches her car and stops, and it takes Mulder a few more paces to realize she isn't with him. He turns around in confusion.

Keys already out, Scully motions to her car awkwardly. “I'm parked here,” she says. There's still traces of the message Mulder scrawled to her on her back windshield: Don't give up. The same thing he'd told her after Monica Bannan, the first time she almost left him. That feels like an eternity ago.

“Oh.” Mulder hovers awkwardly in one place, like he's considering whether to step forward and kiss her cheek goodbye (which is how he'd said goodbye in their last parking garage meeting) or shake her hand like a stranger. He seems to decide not to move at all, lifts his hand in a sad little wave and says, “See you tomorrow, Scully.” And then he turns around and heads down the row of cars, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his shoulders hunched up. He misses her.

“See you tomorrow,” she calls after him, and is surprised to find she's glad that's true. She's missed him, she misses him.

As soon as she gets home, she logs onto Amazon to buy the office a new poster.

---

She really is sort of expecting Skinner to just sign off on the case—because truthfully, Mulder is right about the simple case being an easier adjustment, as much as she wants a challenge, something to occupy her mind—but the next morning, before their meeting with Skinner, they're being called out to Nugenics to investigate the suicide of one Dr. Sanjay.

Mulder seems to think there's more to this case than just a suicide—which is why he snatched the case up—which Scully is inclined to agree with, based off of the Department of Defense blocking their efforts at the crime scene. (A small part of her can't help but think, Here we go again. Plunging into conspiracies, pissing off government agencies, tumbling right into trouble.) She finds something written on the victim's palm: Founder's Mutation, in reference to Dr. Goldman (also known as the Founder), someone who Sanjay worked for and who Mulder wanted to interview in conjunction to Sanjay's death. They end up searching Sanjay's apartment by the end of the day, finding a wall full of photographs of kids who could be classified as experiments. Sanjay, Mulder tells her, fears that these children were dying.

Scully looks at the photos and thinks, with a pang, of her own children and the experiments they had seemingly been. Emily, who was dying, and William, who she's always been afraid would never be able to escape the intentions of the people who wanted him born. With her past, it's hard not to think about them in this situation.

But she has no time to linger on that, because the police are entering the apartment and Mulder is falling to his knees, his hands flying up to his head in pain. Panic rises up in her throat like bile, memories of his half-frozen form in the snow, of his frightening headaches that lead to a fucking brain disease flooding her mind. She falls to her knees beside him, but the chaos of the whole situation takes over. Her worry for Mulder—her panic at seeing him in distress, unable to talk to her or explain what is wrong—has to be pushed aside in order to explain things to the police.

Her explanation takes a good ten minutes, most of which she spends casting nervous looks at the room she left Mulder in, but once they are good and convinced that Mulder and Scully do, in fact, have a right to be there (which they don't, but Scully isn't going to linger on that), she nearly rushes back into the room to find Mulder, her heart thudding hard in worry that he'll be badly hurt.

But Mulder seems to be fine, by all definitions; he's rummaging through Sanjay's desk, pulling out files from drawers like he wasn't in pain at all. He looks slightly exhausted, maybe a little off-balance, but otherwise fine. “Are you okay, Mulder?” she whispers in confusion, going to his side, raising her hand to touch his head and then lowering it.

He nods, teeth clenched in his familiar headache habit, forehead furrowed. “I'm fine. Help me get these files, Scully,” he says, his voice slightly pained but hard with determination.

She reaches out to touch his arm, gently, and he motions to the files again. Scully can't tell if it's because he's become hyper focused on the investigation, the way he did all those years ago, or because he has no interest in comfort from her. She sighs and proceeds to help him gather up the files. “What are these?” she whispers. “Are they in relation to those pictures out there?”

Mulder nods distractedly. “I took a quick look at one, and it looks like the kids Sanjay worked with had serious genetic abnormalities. If Sanjay believed they were dying, this could go a long way to explaining why he committed suicide.” He chews his lower lip, gathering up files and gathering them together with a ball of loose rubber bands retrieved from the desk drawer. “And if I had to guess, Scully, I'd say the DOD is involved. I'd say these children are likely experiments.”

Scully nods a little, wearily. She thinks it's bitterly ironic that her first case back would involve experimented-on children, considering everything. “So these files…”

“We need to get them back to the Bureau,” says Mulder, “and make copies before the DOD takes them back.” He gathers up the files against his chest and turns towards the door, wincing a little as he goes.

“Are you sure you're okay, Mulder?” Scully whispers. There are still police outside; she lifts the side of Mulder's suit jacket to partially hide the files, falling into step beside him. “You seemed like you were in a lot of pain.”

He waves it off absently. “I'm fine, Scully. Seriously. Let's just go back to the office.”

She's guessing it's going to be another long night. She flashes her badge to the police officers again as they walk to their car, and climbs in the driver's seat. Mulder is rubbing his temples as he gets in, setting the stack of files on his lap, so she offers him a bottle of Tylenol and he mumbles his thanks. The pills rattle as she starts the car and pulls away.

“So,” says Mulder as they merge onto the highway, “what do you think? Is this better than a missing dog case?” His voice is grim, but not bitter, not exactly. She thinks that Mulder is more invested in this case than he'd be in the case in Willoughby, but she's guessing he's had the same thoughts she's had about this case. The untouchable subject of their son.

Scully grits her teeth, watching the road quietly. “Not sure yet,” she says softly, thinking of needles and hospitals rooms and all the time she's feared her son was an experiment. Of everything she wanted to forget. “I suppose we’ll see.”

---

They end up at the office most of the night dealing with this issue. (Mulder keeps acting like he has a headache and Scully watches him like a hawk, nervous, but neither of them bring it up.) The DOD figures out what they're doing and confiscates the original files, of course, but Skinner surprisingly and satisfyingly has their backs (while maintaining an outwardly stern appearance). The two of them keep digging, combing through security footage from Nugenics, and Scully is stunned by how natural this all feels, investigating; aside from having to adjust to all the new technology, her transition back into the FBI feels near effortless. Even working with Mulder feels as natural as breathing, if they ignore some of the awkward tension between them.

Mulder confesses that his ordeal last night in Sanjay's apartment was due to a sharp, high, painful sound he heard, along with words: Find her. Scully points out that Sanjay killed himself due to hearing some horrible sounds, suddenly upset at herself for not seeing the connection sooner. A letter opener to the ear to stop a sound, and why didn't she see that this could easily be happening to Mulder? “This is dangerous,” she says, and Mulder scoffs, a little playfully, “When has that ever stopped us before?”

It never has. They keep digging.

Scully takes Mulder to Our Lady of Sorrows in an attempt to get in contact with Dr. Goldman. They arrange a meeting with him for the next day, but that's not what ends up sticking with Scully. They also find a pregnant woman, Agnes, who is frantic and asking for their help. She says that her baby isn't normal. She says, “I changed my mind, I'm not giving it up,” and Scully feels a horrible familiarity wash over her. All she can think about is her own son, wherever he is, the possibility that people are using him the same way that they are using Sanjay's kids. That Agnes is being used the same way she was. First Sveta and then Agnes, endless reminders of her own ordeals.

Outside of the hospital, Mulder suggests that the women in that hospital might be tools of the DOD in their experiments, incubators, and Scully can't help it. All these dark feelings rise to the surface, the same fight they've been having for years, the reason they broke up. She asks Mulder, “Is this what you believe happened to me 15 years ago? When I got pregnant, when I had my baby?” It's hard not to wince at the words, the memories this is bringing up. “Was I just an incubator?” she adds softly.

“You're never just anything to me, Scully,” he replies, and she wants to cry from it all, the horror of everything that's happened to them and how long it has been since they spoke to each other like this. In a manner of comfort, of sweetness and love, rather than from stiff politeness.

He comforts her, tells her that he thinks about their son, too, tells her that all they can do is keep looking. Suggests that they go home, because they didn't get any sleep last night and they can't exactly do anything until their meeting with Goldman tomorrow. Scully agrees, maybe because she really is tired. She feels drained, and she feels like some of that can be attributed to the day she's had. She lets Mulder drop her off at the Bureau before she drives her way out to Bethesda.

She sleeps for a few hours, tangled up in blankets, but it is unfortunately not a dreamless sleep. She dreams her usual dreams of William, the good dreams: beautiful scenes of a life she and Mulder have created for their son together that gradually turn nightmarish. She wakes with a start hours later, covered in a cold sweat and tangled up in her blankets, the image of William pleading for help still vivid behind her eyes. She stumbles to her feet quickly and pads out into her living room, collapsing in her desk chair.

Almost dizzy, she rests her head on her forearms, letting the images of her daydream leave her. She can still see that one part bright in her mind, the one where she took her son to school and kissed him goodbye. The most important thing to remember, she'd said, is that I love you. The thing she'd most like to say to William, the thing she'll never get a chance to.

She pauses for a moment, considering, hesitating, until she decides and reaches for the drawer where she keeps William's picture. It's small in her hands, glossy, and she strokes a thumb gingerly over the front in lieu of all the things she wants to say.

She never used to look at the picture. She never allowed herself to when she was living at home, actually used to get mad at Mulder when she saw him doing it. But she took this photo with her when she left, and now she does it enough to feel like a hypocrite. But she can't help it. There's something in her that needs this tether, the same part of her that keeps her wedding ring around her neck.

Her phone, which she'd deposited with her keys on her kitchen counter, buzzes. Scully gets to her feet and goes to check, sees Mulder's name lighting up the screen. You okay? the text reads.

Scully smiles a little, involuntarily. I should be asking you that question. Are YOU okay? How's your head?

I'm fine, doc, Mulder types in response, her phone buzzing merrily, and Scully shakes her head ruefully. His next message reads, I'm sorry about this case. I had no idea.

It doesn't matter, Scully types out before pausing. Even if it doesn't matter to her, the issue of William isn't her cross to bear alone; Mulder has been just as hurt by the whole thing. She deletes that message and sends, You didn't know, instead.

We should've taken the dog/ghost case.

Scully rolls her eyes automatically, although not without affection. You're never going to let that one go, are you? She can picture the way he'd be smirking with her if they were having this conversation in person.

I actually got another call from Deputy Jacobs. He says that another person has claimed a sighting.

And how many people know of the original sighting?

The deputy didn't disclose that information.

Scully is grinning unabashedly before she catches herself. It feels great to be discussing a case with Mulder, bickering back and forth about something that doesn't matter. It's almost a shock, how great it feels. But it feels just as strange to argue with Mulder over text instead of face to face. The smile slips away in a sudden, surprised motion, and she's left cradling her phone uncertainly.

It buzzes again. You know… that case is always an option. If this one gets too personal.

Scully bites her lower lip determinedly, types, No, thanks. I'm fine. She means it to sound light and casual and dismissive, but it's impossible to convey tone through text, and she's sent it by the time she changes her mind.

There's something of an awkward silence—if such a thing can exist in texts—where, if they were talking in person, Mulder would probably hurl a hurt, You're always fine. But they're not in person, and the one advantage of texting that Scully can halfway enjoy and loathe in the same breath is the ability to compose a sensible, well-thought reply. Mulder doesn't answer right away, and so she puts the William photograph back in her desk without letting herself look at it, picks up her phone and goes into her bedroom. She's changed and curled up under the comforter, her book resting in her lap, when her phone buzzes again. Mulder has said, Just let me know if you're not. Fair enough. She pretends she isn't relieved that it didn't come down to accusations.

Scully puts the phone on her bedside table and cracks open her book at an attempt at distraction. But her mind keeps returning to what Mulder had said before, in response to her asking if he ever thought about William. Yes, of course I do, he'd said with conviction, like he couldn't believe she had to ask. She'd seen Mulder looking at William's picture many times in the eleven years they'd lived together before she left, but somehow, she had never considered that he might think about William, too, at least in the way that she did. That he might imagine the life they could've had instead of what happened when they let go.

---

Goldman shows them a flurry of children who seem more or less miserable, who claim to have been there forever. Agnes is found dead, the baby gone; Scully performs the autopsy and feels like weeping the entire time. They find Goldman's wife, who tells a story Scully finds all too familiar: lost sons and daughters, experiments she couldn't save. “A mother never forgets,” she says in sympathy with the other woman, the ache in her chest that she knows Goldman's wife must feel.

The lead from Jackie Goldman leads them to Kyle Gilligan. Mulder falls to the ground again from the same horrible sound that Scully cannot hear, and her panic only increases; she tosses around angry convictions until they've arrested the perpetrator and Mulder is on his feet again.

Their arrest of Kyle Gilligan leads to a confrontation with Goldman that Scully largely doesn't see, blacking out briefly after she goes flying somehow, hits the wall hard and crumples to the hospital floor. She wakes up to Mulder kneeling beside her, his hand warm against her cheek, her forehead. “Scully?” he says softly, worry spreading over his face.

Scully's head is pounding, aching from the inside out. She groans a little, trying to sit up; Mulder grabs her hand in his and helps her sit against the wall. “Are you seeing clearly? Can you tell me your name?” His hands brush hair away from her forehead.

“Dana Katherine Scully, I'm fifty-one, and you're Fox Mulder,” she says impatiently. “We're at Goldman Technology investigating Augustus Goldman. My vision is just fine.” Mulder’s thumb grazes her cheek, and her irritability wilts, just a little. “I'm okay, Mulder. I don't have a concussion.” Although she's going to be sore as shit tomorrow; she nearly winces at the thought. “Where's Kyle?” She looks past Mulder, over his shoulder, and sees Goldman's mutilated body, winces on instinct at the bloody mess.

“Yeah,” Mulder says sympathetically, brushing hair out of her eyes. “Far as I can tell, they're gone. I'm not sure; I blacked out, too.” His hand moves down her arm to cup her elbow. “Do you want to try and get up? Have a doctor check you out?”

“I'm fine, Mulder,” she says, but it's half-hearted, and she lets Mulder help her up, lets him support her with an arm around her shoulder. “Are you okay?” she asks softly, her hand unintentionally pressed against his hip. Suddenly concerned by the fact that he says he blacked out, today; what happened to them?

His nose brushes her hair as he nods, a phantom kiss. She reaches up to touch his temple, a reflex of times long gone, and he catches her hand and lowers it gently, shooting her a gently chiding look. “You’re getting checked out if I am,” she says by way of rebuttal and he nods, tightening his arm around her shoulders. They move past the flurry of police officers and nurses and men in suits to an examination room where a nurse confirms that Scully doesn't, in fact, have a concussion, and neither does Mulder. And by then, the DOD and Skinner have arrived and the whole thing is pretty much over. Their involvement is severed.

They stand together behind the red tape, watching the whole thing go down, Mulder revealing a stolen vial of blood. He's concerned for her in a way that's absurdly surprising (and it shouldn't be surprising, not at all); he keeps touching her arm or shoulder. He backs off a little when he hears that she is all right, but he doesn't leave her side the whole time.

After they're dismissed, Mulder drives her home. It honestly surprises her, because (as she points out several times) it adds another hour to his trip, and because he's always avoided her house with a delicate staunchness, a stubborn refusal. But still, he drives her home, and she gives up trying to argue with him by the time they leave the city. By the time she's directed him to the silly smart house she can't quite believe she's still subletting (she hasn't heard from the doctor who technically owns the house in months), she’s thanking him quietly. “You really didn't have to do this,” she says as he parks, reaching for the door handle. “I promise I'm fine.”

“It's been a while since we've done this,” Mulder says, and for a minute, she thinks he means something different entirely until she realizes he's talking about the job. “Even if you don't have a concussion, I know you've got to be in pain. I wanted to make sure you got home okay.”

Scully looks down at her lap, her fingers tangled, and says, “Well, I'm grateful.” She is briefly disgusted with herself, that she can't even have a normal conversation with this man she's loved for years. That they've been reduced to near strangers.

Mulder brushes his fingers over her cheek again, and she shivers briefly, looks up at him. He's leaned a little closer, his eyes dark in this light, and they're almost nose to nose. “I'm sorry about this case,” he says softly. The same thing he'd said a couple nights ago.

Scully catches his hand in hers, gingerly, as he lowers it. “You don't have to be sorry, Mulder,” she whispers. “I know this case couldn't have been any easier for you than for me.”

He looks down at their joined fingers, squeezes her hand in lieu of an answer. She strokes the back of his hand with one tentative finger. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she is protesting that this is dangerous, that they shouldn't be doing this, but somehow, she can't stop herself. His palm is warm, and he'd tried to take care of her after she hit the wall, and she's tempted to ask him to come in, press her forehead against his and kiss the side of his jaw, his cheek. A near-insane part of her actually wants to discuss William with him; she's always avoided that topic with him in the past, but now, she honestly thinks it would help. But she is so tired, and the pounding in her head has increased to a steady ache, spreading down her back.

“You look exhausted, Scully,” Mulder says, voicing her thoughts. He squeezes her hand again before letting go, nudging her thumb in a familiar gesture from years and years ago before pulling back completely. “Get some rest, okay?”

She nods, head down, reaching for the door handle. Pauses briefly, and turns back to him. “Mulder,” she says carefully. “We can take that case in Willoughby if you want.”

Taken aback, Mulder says with surprise (but not with an inflection of amusement), “I thought it was a waste of time.”

“It is a waste of time. I think that's what we need right now.” After everything that's happened in the past couple weeks, she'd really love a ridiculous ghost story to distract her. She meets his eyes, questioning him wordlessly on what he thinks.

The side of Mulder's mouth lifts, the ghost of a grin. “I'll check with Skinner,” he says. He leans forward in one rapid motion and kisses Scully's cheek, a familiar gesture that catches her off-guard. “Goodnight, Scully.”

Her face warm, she opens the door. Offers him a lame little wave as she steps out onto the curb and says, “Goodnight, Mulder.” Like they're lying in bed beside each other, like they're holding each other as they fall asleep. Like they haven't been separated for two years.

She closes the door and watches him pull away from the curb before she goes inside.

#this stupid story is SO LONG I HATE IT #xf rewatch #xf fanfic #i wrote this

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uglypastels · 6 years

Note

Title: about the moon, toast and soap Wondering what you're going do with that😁

I assume Toast and Soap is one title. If you meant it as two separates, let me know.

#1 About the Moon - Peter Parker

Nobody except for the ones who actually lived it, know how life in the soul stone was. Every soul that had been taken by the snap, ended up in this world where everything seemed normal, but it was just off. nobody could explain it.

Time wasn’t a real concept in this world. There was no real difference between day or night. The moon shined with a strange orange-y glow and it never changed positions.

With no real time, it was hard to see how long it had been since they all found themselves in this strange land. After a while, the people had started to warm up to the place. It became a real society. You could almost forget that they had been erased from the world they used to be a part of.

But Peter never forgot. He couldn’t. He couldn’t stop thinking about Mr. Stark, about Aunt May, About Ned… how he had let them down. He had been replaying the moments on Titan in his mind repeatedly. How he was so close to getting that stupid gauntlet off of Thanos’ fat fingers. He could have prevented all of this.

On days like these, when the anxiety was getting too much, Peter had found a spot for himself. It was on top of a hill. It looked out on the rest of the “city”. yeah, there were houses and other things that one could see in an actual city, but this didn’t feel human. It didn’t feel right.

The moon was shining like always. The trees around him were completely still, but Peter could feel a definite breeze against his skin. Another thing that made him feel eerie about this place.

“Oh,sorry. I didn’t know anyone was here.” a voice shook him out of his dark thoughts. Peter turned around. A girl was stood behind him. She looked a bit awkward at him.

“Usually, when I come here, it’s desserted.” Peter noticed an accent in her voice. Something European, but he couldn’t place it.

“Oh, sorry. I can leave if you want to be alone. I’ve already been here for a while anyway.” He wanted to get up, but the girl stopped him.

“Oh no, no. You were here first. I’ll go.” She wanted to walk away again. Peter felt guilty.

“We can… sit together, if you want. There’s enough space for both of us.” he showed around, emphesizing the big empty field of grass around them. The girl smiled and then sat down next to him.

“I’m Peter.”

“(Y/N).” And so they started talking. their conversations were endless and about nothing in general, but most of the time they curled back to one topic: their lifes before this place. They got to know each other well and soon they were meeting up everyday to just talk. She was the only good thing Peter had in this orance moon-lit world. He finally felt like this wasn’t so bad after all.

But then, after weeks, maybe months, he woke up. The bed in which he was lying in didn’t feel cold like it used to. It felt warm, familiar. Like home. The smell did too. Like aunt May’s pancakes. Wait, that was the smell of aunt May’s pancakes! Peter opened his eyes and shot up straight in his bed. It was actually his bed.

The curtains were drawn and covering the window, so Peter jumped up and practically ran over to look outside. The sun was shining brightly over the steel jungle that was New York City, Queens. Peter could cry from happiness. He was finally back home.

He closed the curtains again and sprinted to the door, ready to hug his aunt. But a thought infiltrated his brain and he couldn’t move anymore. (Y/N). Where was she now? If he came back home, that meant that she was somewhere in Europe. Honestly, he had no idea where she could be right now. And he had no way to reach her as they had not exchanged any way of contact back in the soul stone world. There was no need for that. They didn’t have phones, or social media.

Peter just had to deal with the fact that he would never see her again. It hurt to think like that, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

So, everytime he was out in the night, patrolling the neighborhood, he would take a moment to look at the moon. Now back to its silvery glow, it looked much more welcoming.

He would look at it and remember. Remember everything about that world. About the moon and its orange glow. About her.

#2 Toast and Soap - Harrison Osterfield

Harrison often took walks around the city. It took his mind off things. Even when there was nothing to take his mind off of. Then he just people watched. London was definitely a good place for that.

His favorite place to walk around in, where the markets. There was always so much going on and you could find the craziest of people. But that wasn’t it. Harrison was always on the lookout for one person in particular.

He had seen her around a few places before. Mostly surrounded by other street artists. She was always busy with something.

The first time he saw her he was immediately intrigued. The tattoos sticking out from underneath her shirt, the wild colored hair that was cut to her collarbone, the crazy number of rings on her fingers that glistened in the sun while she worked on her next project.

Next to her small table and display, stood a small sign: “Carvings, £20″ there was a group of people around her while she was working on something. A bunch of little knives and other tools littered on the table in front of her. She had a pair of those enhancing goggles that Harrison saw watchmakers wear.

She blew off the cutaway remains and looked at it pleasantly. then, she turned it so the small audience could see the result. There was a polite applause. The woman who had probably requested the piece came up and paid. The exchange was quick, but in that time most of the people had already walked away.

Harrison took this as hic chance to approach her. Her client had left and she was now cleaning up the mess she had made while working. Not wanting to interrupt her, Harrison looked at her other work.

Everything was very different from each other. The materials used, the style…

“Can I help you?” Harrison looked up from one specific carved out piece of wood (he assumed it was wood, at least) to be met with the eyes of the girl.

“Oh, hi. I was just wondering. What is it that you do?”

“I can do anything. Wood, plastic, toast…you?” she winked at the small addition to her list. Harrison couldn’t help but laugh. “Give me something and I will carve it.”

“So, for example, toast?”

“Never tried, but I probably could.” she smirked.

“Well, we’ll have to go and see then.” Well they did, and she indeed produced an amazing miniature of the DaVinci painting the Lady with Ermine. She didn’t exactly carve it as much as burn it in, but it worked.

And just like that, any time they would meet, Harrison was ready with another challenge for her. And each and every time she would out do herself and amaze Harrison with another extraordinary piece of art.

“Hey there, Ken doll.” Harrison heard her before he saw her. Looking in the direction of where her voice came from he smiled. She was sitting at her small table, just setting things up. It was still rather early in the morning .

“Got a new challenge for me?” she was grinning. Harrison felt his cheeks heat up. He didn’t actually. It was a last minute choice for him to go out for a walk and he had never expected her to be up and ready so early in the day. Even after a large coffee he was tired…and he didn’t have to work in front of all these people there around them.

He looked at the cup in his hands. It was already empty and was only cartying it around because he had yet found a bin. But maybe there was some better use in it.

“How about a paper coffee cup?” He showed her the cup. She looked interested at it.

“That one? You already used it.” her tone was hiding her interest. To an outsider of the conversation she could sound very unimpressed, but Harrison had heard it all before.

“It will just add to the challenge, won’t it then.” He put the cup down on her table. “I’ll be back.” he winked and walked away, still facing her. He saw her smile as she picked up the cup and twirled it around in her hand.

A few hours had gone by and Harrison was making his was back to where he had left his cup.

She was working on a bar of soap, probably turning it into a little owl. It was a signature trick of hers. The cup was standing on the corner of the table. It seemed to be untouched.

Not looking up from her owl, she mumbled: “You won, Ken doll.”

“Oh did I now?” he was very pleased with himself that he finally managed to crack her. “And what do I win then?”

“Your cup back.” with one finger, she pushed it to his side of the table.

“Oh wow, thanks.” he rolled his eyes, but still took his price gladly.

“Now, sod off, I have a business here that I’m trying to run.”

“Right, I’ll see you around.” He said. Her attention was back to the owl, but she did have time to wave with the hand she was holding the soap in. Harrison walked away, twirling the cup in his hands just like she had done that morning. He wasn’t really looking at it, just doing something to keep his hands occupied. But as he spinned it around, something in his peripheral vision caught something.

On part of the cup, a black blur kept coming up that he didn’t remember there the first time. He stopped moving the cup and looked at it.There, in neat black letters was written: “Call me.” and a number.

Harrison turned around to look at her again. But unfortunately, her eyes were still on her little owl. With a big smile on his face, he continued his walk back home.

send requests/feedback/questions - send me a made-up title for a fic (#boredpastels)

#uglypastels answers #why am I like this #I write too much #this is not how this works #i failed #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker writing #peter parker imagine #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield fanfic #my writing

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dopescotlandwarrior · 5 years

Text

A Hero Among Us-Chapter 3

On AO3

Ch-1 Ch-2

Chapter Three

Claire looked out the window at the growing number of men and felt a huge relief. With the harvest just six weeks away, she hoped to have ample men to pick the grapes quickly, as Jamie said, this was crucial. She feared the coalition would amp up the pressure before she could sell the grapes. She wondered how far they would go to grab this land.

Jamie walked through the vineyard each day and watched the grapes get smaller as they lost precious water to the drought. The leaves were crisp and brown indicating the weakened condition of the plant. If they were invaded by insects or fungus the plant had little resources to fight and would succumb.

Jamie headed back and saw men running toward him. He quickened his pace. The men were shouting about the lady being threatened by men on horses. Jamie started running, as fast as his legs would allow. He could see the house as the lactic acid was building in his thighs pushing the pain to nearly intolerable, he ran faster. When he came blasting into the house misses Crook was holding a towel to Claire’s face. Jamie’s knees almost buckled as he came around to her and saw the black eye.

“Who did this?” His unmasked face was fury on fire. “Tell me Claire, who? Which of these men is so cowardly to hit a woman?”

“I don’t know, honestly, I don’t know them by name. He said they would burn my fields before I could pick one grape.”

“It won’t happen or it would have already. There are assets in the ground and atop the ground and they arna stupid. They want the vines and the first year of growth completed. Don’t worry about the place burning down.”

Misses Crook moved away from Claire and she launched into Jamie’s arms sobbing. She didn’t mention the other threats. Raping her and misses Crook until dead, killing the workers and animals. She sobbed harder with the memory and Jamie knew she held back the reason for her tears. He had a good idea what cowardly men would say to women to scare them to death.

“Until yer grapes are sold I’ll be posting a man to ye day and night. He won’t be a pest but he’ll be able to warn us when danger is comin.” She wrapped her arms around his stomach and cried harder. He spoke in her ear and told her he would keep her safe.

That means I love you Sassenach, he thought, and I will lay down my life for you. I canna be in love and not move mountains to help and protect you.

“Ya have a fighter who has pledged his life to you Sassenach, please dinna cry lass, it’s breakin my heart.”

Claire heard it, hidden in his words, “I love you”, is what they said. She held onto to the bravest man she had ever known and he was in love with her. Could this be so, she wondered. She pulled away quickly and dried her eyes before she looked into his crystal blue gaze. His eyes said I love you, I desire you, and I will always see you this way.

“Are ye alright now Sassenach?”

Claire felt like she was moving in slow motion, “yes, I’m better now, they scared me.”

“I have to speak to the men and arrange a perimeter patrol and a guard for one pretty Sassenach. This afternoon I have to ride out to the outer forty and check the vines but you will have a man with ye all the time from now on.”

He smiled and turned to leave but she held onto his hands as the tears started to fall again. “Please take me with you.”

He pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Brimstone grows fat in her stall mistress, perhaps ye should come with me. Be ready to ride in thirty minutes.”

Claire released his hands and Jamie vanished to carry out his task of updating the men. His ace in the hole was the group of Highlanders that had come to work. He would stake his life, or Claire’s, on the word of a Highlander and it was time to get them plugged in and offer a safe escape if they chose it. He knew in his bones they would stay and do what Highlanders do, stand the ground that’s been entrusted to them.

He rang the bell and the men assembled around him, there were now fifty men, ready to work. Yi Tien Cho took his seat with the men and looked defiantly at Jamie.

“There is a war over this property that rightfully belongs to misses Randell. The coalition of winegrowers is tryin to take it from her, steal it actually. They beat her today and she has a black eye and deep fear from the encounter. These men will be back and the closer we get to the harvest, the harder they will fight. She is innocent and alone. Without us, she stands no chance of keeping her harvest or her property. Men, I’m askin ye to fight for the lady. If ye refuse ye can leave peacefully and without incident. This I promise because I need to have complete faith in those who stay.

I am riding with the lady to the outer property to assess the crop. I’ll no be sendin able bodies out there if there’s nothin to pick. Stay alert and watch the house. We will sit down when I return and split the group into day and night watch until the harvest.

“Yer askin us to fight for someone we dinna ken and a British woman for Christ sake.”

“I ken. The conditions in Scotland have been tyrannical oppression and land grabbing for the last hundred years. I would wager each of you has known a family member who was swindled, forced, or lied to and lost land, or a home, or the life of someone they loved trying to defend it. This is yer opportunity to strike down the land thieves that are terrorizing this region. Do it for the ones you love, do it because it’s right, do it because a brother is askin ye. Highlander blood runs through us all. Will ye stand with me and fight?”

Angus and Rupert stood up and proudly claimed their allegiance to Jamie’s cause. Other men stood and said the same. One man stood and said, “for my sister and her wee ones, I’m stayin.” Other men stood.

“For my mother.”

“For my grandma, they took her property.”

“For my brother, killed defending his land and crops.”

Misses Crook felt goosebumps run down her arms and she shivered in the ninety-degree heat. She heard it all and was galvanized by Jamie’s words and leadership. On her way back to the house her stride gained six inches, her shoulders were back and her head was high. If there was a chance to save this farm she would play her part. There would be food and ale day and night. It was time to pick the vegetables and start cooking. The men who stay need more than porridge and dried pork.

Claire paced the hallway upstairs and thought about the revelation she felt in Jamie’s arms. Why hadn’t she seen it before? Because she was high born and such a union was not even considered. But he cared for her, that was obvious by his actions and unguarded words today. For some reason, it made her happy, as impossible as it was.

“Mistress! Are ye ready? Have ye decided to rest in the house today?”

“I am ready mister Fraser.”

Jamie watched her descend the stairs in her lace and ruffles, layers of fancy fabrics that would not stand up to a hard ride.

“Sassenach, I have to ride hard to reach the outer border of the property. Are ye sure I can’t talk ye into stayin here with misses Crook? I’ve talked to the men and they are here to guard ye and the property from those who mean ye harm.”

He looked at her pleadingly knowing this was no task for one so fragile.

“I am going with you and I’ll have you know I am quite a good rider. Do not leave without me. Misses Crook!”

It was five minutes before Claire emerged from the house and stood before Jamie. His eyes took in a complete metamorphosis and his mouth hung open. Gone were the layers, ruffles, and lace. Her riding boots came to her knees, her breeches were tight for maximum control and her hat covered her hair that was stuffed into it.

Jamie stood up and circled her. “My God mistress, ye look like a lad and that is perfect! Why didn’t I think of that? Ye brilliant is what ye are. Let’s go.”

Claire smiled at his exuberance and acceptance and followed close behind. Misses Crook folded the clothing she had shed and let her mind wander and wonder about mister James Fraser.

For once, Donus did not pitch his usual fit and agreed to run through the vineyard and take commands from the crazy rider with the fierce seat. Donus also had a crush on Brimstone and paced himself as she did. They rode for quite some time and reaching the outer acreage, Jamie inspected the vines and was pleasantly surprised. As he walked from vine to vine he felt electricity run up his arms and the hair stand up. He smelled the air and felt a jolt of adrenalin. He looked around quickly for shelter but found nothing.

“Sassenach, we must find shelter, right now. The sky is about to rip open.”

She urged Brimstone into a canter and Jamie barely got on Donus before he followed her. He saw lightning strike the ground just ahead of them and his concern went into warp drive. He kicked Donus to pass Brimstone and search the rock walls for a cave or an overhang. When he saw what might offer shelter the sky opened up with booming thunder and great flashes of lightning. Even with their peril, he thanked the almighty for the rain.

Jamie jumped off Donus and walked to the cave. He exhaled in relief and tied Donus to a tree so he could lead Brimstone and Claire into the cave. He came back expecting Donus to be long gone and scratched his head smiling.

“Yer a mate, after all, thank ye for stayin.”

Jamie led Donus into the cave and looked around to judge their space. It was mid-afternoon but the black clouds were closing in on what little sun was left. He looked at the blown-in detritus that littered the floor and found some wood left on an old fire. The horses were so happy to be out of the punishing rain they moved very little. Jaime took the flintstone from his saddlebag and felt relief that it was dry. Ten minutes later there was a fire burning and enough dry vegetation on the ground to last at least an hour.

“Sassenach, yer gonna shake yer teeth right out of yer head. Sit near the fire and warm up.”

Claire looked at him and then the ground like she didn’t understand. Jamie sat down and patted the ground next to him. She looked around for an alternative and finding none, she finally sat down. The fire warmed her and her shaking stopped. Fierce thunder with blinding lightning scared Claire and she dove toward Jamie almost knocking him over.

He looked at her white face and huge eyes and chuckled showing her there was nothing to fear. He guided her back to her sitting position but she scooted next to him, still looking very afraid. The next explosion in the sky and she was on Jamie’s lap gripping his shirt for dear life. It was so loud he couldn’t speak to her so he smiled and hugged her to him. The storm raged while Jamie was facing his inner storm at having Claire in his lap. He knew there was no danger. Finding this cave solved that problem, but the Sassenach did not know that, so he was tender and kind with her.

Jamie was sure the worst of the storm was over and figured five minutes and they could head back at a dead run. The boom and flash stole his vision and his hearing for a few seconds. Where ever he looked he saw a black spot that blocked everything. He was unlucky and had been looking at the cave entrance when it happened. He felt Claire around his neck and held her feeling so bad she was this scared. When he blinked a few times and opened his eyes her beautiful face was an inch from his. He could feel her breath on his face. He tried to speak and she pressed her lips against his.

Jamie’s heart pounded so hard he figured this was his last moment on earth and he was thrilled by it. Claire broke her kiss and she stared into his eyes, “kiss me please.”

Jamie pulled her to him and kissed her with all the emotion and energy he had pushed back over the last month. His head was screaming stop and his mouth wasn’t hearing it. He could hear the rain slowing outside but his spirit had taken flight with the feel of Claire's lips on his. He had to get her to safety while he could so he broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers. He breathed her in and opened his eyes.

“We have to go, as fast as ye can ride back to the house. I’ll stay behind ye so ride up to yer front door and throw me the reins. I’ll get her back and put her to bed. Right?”

He held her shoulders and she nodded. Jaime scooped her up and hugged her for dear life. He wanted desperately to remember what she felt like against him. As soon as she cleared the cave she mounted Brimstone and took off. Jamie was dragged for a while by Cassanova Donus who wanted to keep up with his girlfriend. Jamie felt the ground under his boots and pushed off as hard as he could landing him on top of the horse who kept up with Brimstone easily.

Claire did just what he said dismounting near the stairs leading to the porch. The thunder returned and the rain was again a down poor. Jamie smiled at her and motioned her toward the house. Claire walked to his side and put a hand on his leg. Jamie leaned down and kissed her with all of his heart then he pointed at the house and Claire ran in.

Jamie sat in the saddle and let Donus lead them to the barn. Fortunately, he looked up in time to see a fat branch in front of his face as Donus aimed to knock him out of the saddle. Something he had been trying to do for the last two days. Jamie pushed his upper body backward against the horse’s butt to avoid the tree truck then he let Donus know there would be consequences for such evil intent. Through it all, he smiled. He had kissed an angel and nothing else mattered.

With the horses safely in bed, Jamie walked through the drenching rain to his cabin. He wondered how many men were left and he prayed his gamble did not cripple this harvest.

Jamie pulled the door open when he heard knocking. Rupert was standing in the rain and announced there was no one watching the house and did Jamie want him to do it. Jamie laughed and pulled Rupert inside the cabin.

“Thank ye. I do want ye to take first watch and as soon as there’s a break in the rain I will run my blanket to ye to keep ye warm. Until we have to pick grapes, you and Angus will split the nights and sleep until noon. Okay?”

Rupert nodded and ran toward the house to find shelter on the porch.

Jamie sat on his bed and got lost in the events of the afternoon. Now that he was alone he could bring back the vivid images and physical memories of holding Claire in his arms. What the devil had precipitated this brief intimacy between them he didn’t know but she had asked him to kiss her and he did. He could feel his heart ramming in his chest at the memory of her body pressed against him, her injured face, her arms around him, her fear. He shook his head and wanted to slap himself or beat himself senseless. If that were only possible maybe he could fix this. He feared his working relationship with the Sassenach was irreparably damaged and his heart dropped miles from where it had been. He jumped to his feet and drove his fist into a sturdy wood beam. What have I done, he thought, what have I done?

Claire flew up the stairs leaving a trail of water on the fine Persian rugs leading to her rooms. She pulled her clothes off and dropped them into a bucket to stem the dripping and dried herself. She stood in the dark of her bedroom and thought about his kiss. The fire in his lips touching hers and cascade of sensations going off from her skin to deep inside her. Just recalling the kiss made her squirm and feel…something very strong, very primal. She started pacing and chewing on her fingernails. What she did was wrong. What she did might jeopardize her entire operation and she was very confused. Half of her wanted to run to him, half wanted to pretend it never happened.

“Misses Crook!”

Claire could hear the older woman running toward her rooms and in a minute’s time Misses Crook was on her knees with Claire, holding onto her as she cried.

“Ye poor child,” she said rocking Claire. “Yer overwrought from all the danger, exercise, and stimulation from the day. Ye need to rest. I canna have ye comin down with a fever after runnin outside in the rain. Come child, get into bed and think of happy things.”

“Misses Crook, that would not include Mister Randell,” she said quietly.

“No, that it wouldn’t. I am bringin ye some soup and don’t ye move.”

Misses Crook ran for the kitchen wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. It was a travesty what Randell did to the poor young girl. He sought her out for her dowry so he could be the king of his own world, far from his controlling family. She watched him cloak himself in normalcy as he lured little Claire into his trap and she did nothing to help the girl. She regretted that decision down to her marrow. She knew he would be locked in purgatory or the fires of hell but what of the life he left behind?

Jamie paced in his cabin as the rain came down in sheets. He wondered where Yi Tien Cho was, probably hunkered down in one of the outbuildings tonight. He hoped. The walls were starting to close in on him and he yanked his door open to fill his lungs. The rain suddenly stopped and he stepped outside to enjoy a moment of fresh air. Putting his head back he breathed in the night air and wondered how Claire was doing tonight. He looked at the house and tried to guess which window she slept behind. His little Sassenach.

Jamie walked through the vineyard to assure himself nothing was amiss. A nagging feeling was scratching his brain but he could not put his finger on it. Thirty minutes later he walked back and hoped he could fall asleep and forget the emotions that gripped him. He pushed his door open and walked in, stopped, and backtracked, lifting his nose to the soft breeze. Fire! Jamie lunged for the bell and rang it with all his strength. Cabin doors were flying open as the men gathered around him. Other noses were raised to the night as the men looked around for the orange glow of a deadly fire.

“I think I see it, far edge of the property against the valley floor. Someone get on the roof and tell me what ye see. Angus was first to scramble up like he had suction pads on his feet. He looked toward the property edge.

“It’s burning boss, maybe five acres so far. He waited and jumped down when Jamie waved him in.”

The men started moving in the direction of the fire.

“Wait!” He rang the bell again to stop them. “Hold on, I need to think this through.”

Jamie paced and rubbed his forehead. He was sure, there was no lightning for at least an hour, just a steady downpour. The rain stops and a fire starts up.

‘This is a staged fire gentleman. They’re trying to pull every man to the far reaches of the property to put out a fire that was set in standing water. He pointed to three of the men and dispatched them to the rear of the house. Then he looked at his crew of forty-five well-muscled Highlanders and chuckled.

“I believe the fire was set to pull the men away from…” he twisted at the waist and looked behind him, “the house.” They intend to leave the prey defenseless so they can finish the lady. Angus, put a man on the roof, the rest of you make yerselves comfortable on the front porch. If they get past me on the road I want to give them a Highlander welcome.”

Jaime peeled off from the group before anyone could say a word. They saw him running in the shadows toward the road. The men joined Rupert on the porch and the excess bodies sat around the front presenting a formidable barrier to the front door. Since no one told them to be quiet they didn’t think of it

Misses Crook felt the tremors in the house and heard the male noise outside and dropped the soup as she ran for the stairs. Claire was on her knees with her hand to her mouth and reached for the older woman.

“What is that?” She whispered

“I dinna ken, but it sounds very big and male. We stay here, aye, and very quiet.”

Jamie was hunkered down in the roadside weeds trying to silently catch his breath. On a dark night like this, they could be standing right beside him undetected. He waited. It wasn’t long before he noticed two shadows walking slowly on the dirt road toward the house.

“What d’ye think Jamie boy?”

Jamie swallowed the startled noise he almost made from the disembodied voice right beside him. “Jesus Christ, is that ye Angus? Ye just scared ten years off my life ye dolt. Stay with those two quietly and watch where they go. I suspect they will turn into the property and mean to do Claire harm. Let them get as close as possible. When they see the welcoming committee they will run the direction they came. Hold em back until the men can get to them. Dinna fash if one gets by ye, I’ll get him after I run their horse off. Got it? Angus?”

Jamie followed the direction they came and found two perfectly good horses tied to different trees munching the long grass. Jamie pulled the saddles off, then the bridles and slapped each in the rump hard enough for them to run back to where ever they lodge. He hung the bridles on his shoulder and held the bits so they didn’t make noise when he ran back. He didn’t see the man but he heard him running and breathing hard. When he was right beside him Jamie kicked out where he hoped the knee would be. He felt the bones tear away from each other as the man screamed in agony. The whaling was quite excessive making Jamie roll his eyes before he placed his foot over the man’s knee and applied pressure.

“Stop yer wailin!”

“Who do ye work for?”

“No one!”

“What was your intention comin here, startin a fire in our crops?”

“I didn’t do that!”

Jamie squatted next to the man’s head. “It is my duty to inform ye that ye just lied, twice, and there will a painful consequence for each. Tell me the truth and I’ll let ye limp to yer horses.”

“I don’t know what yer talkin about, fuck off!”

Jamie lifted the man, patted his head, and drove his boot into the knee on the other side. The man dropped with a blood-curdling scream.

“Do ye know how easy it will be for me to rip yer throat out? Maybe I let ye live and pluck ye eyes out instead. Yep, that’s much more fun.” Jamie grabbed the man’s head in a painful lock and felt his face until his fingers landed on his eyes.

“Ah, there they are.” He pressed them as the man screamed a name, Ben Carson. “What were yer orders tonight.?”

“Count the men, rape the maid in front of the lady. Now let go!”

“Tell Ben Carson I’m comin for him. If he touches either of the women, I’ll make him scream for ten hours before I kill him.”

Jamie dropped the man and ran back to the property where one very scared man was tied to a tree while the Highlanders taunted him. Jamie approached the wide-eyed would-be rapist and bent over so he looked directly in his eyes. Yer friend wilna make it back so I’m countin on ye. Tell Ben Carson I will put my blade through his throat, and if he orders harm to the women living here, I will kill his wife and daughter first.

Jamie ran his blade up the ropes and the man ran away. He looked at the men, “did that sound convincing?”

Three men had been to the fire site and reported the ground is soggy and the fire is out.

“Thank ye for the help tonight gentlemen. He’s comin for the lady and now me. Stay diligent and safe. Angus, yer inside the house with me, Rupert, pick two teams of three for the two night shifts. Keep yer backs against the wall and get some rest.”

Jamie looked at Rupert who gave a nod that he was on board. “Let’s go inside Angus, we’ll each sleep against a door.” The group made their way back to the cabins except for Rupert and two of his men who took a seat on the porch. Jamie reached for the doorknob and ducked as a silver tea set came flying out aimed at his head. He pulled the door closed just in time before something crashed against it from inside.

“Just eight more weeks,” he said quietly. “Ladies! It’s Jamie Fraser, please drop yer weapons.”

He and Angus entered the house slowly looking for projectiles aimed at the heads. “Claire? Where are ye lass?”

He could hear two female voices whispering upstairs and sighed with relief. “Mistress, this is one of yer men and it’s safe to come out. I need to speak with ye.”

Misses Crook came down the stairs trying to look brave. Jamie watched her and almost caved in thinking about what they intended to do with her. Jamie dropped his head and squeezed his eyes closed before he was suddenly hit by a small body that locked him in a death grip trying to squeeze behind him and the wall.

Jamie reached behind him and grabbed Claire’s arm. “It’s safe misses Randell, please come out, we have to talk.” He pulled her in front of him and saw a mass of black hair that fell around her face and down her back in coiled ringlets. Her amber eyes looked up at him, wide with fear. She was wearing a nightgown and robe, holding a heavy candlestick. He had never seen such a beautiful site and his smile radiated his happiness. He cleared his throat and gently took the candlestick from her.

Misses Crook saw the full scale of Jamie’s emotion in his gaze and smile before he put the mask back on and started talking about the change in plans.

Angus and I will sleep against the two doors, three men in back, three men in front. They wilna get past us so please get some rest the two of ye, yer safe.

Misses Crook let Jamie see her disapproval before holding her hand out to Claire and pulling her upstairs. Jamie looked at the ground and shook his head. Claire was raising her voice to misses Crook about the door and window. The two women argued until misses Crook closed the door to her bedroom and shot Jamie a withering look as she walked to her own room.

Jamie dropped to the ground and closed his eyes. This was getting complicated and he had to keep his mind off the beautiful Sassenach. Just how was he supposed to do that? He hoped no one rushed the house tonight because he would surely sleep through it.

Jamie’s eyes slammed open hours later and he was instantly aware of her laying against him, shivering in the cold. He wrapped her in his warm arms and whispered she was safe and he would keep her warm. He pulled her to him and felt her shaking stop.

“I’ll no let any harm come to ya Sassenach. Ye can sleep in my arms, yer safe.”

When Jamie woke in the morning he wondered if he dreamed about Claire in his arms or if it was real. He pulled himself off the floor and stumbled outside to find his cabin and bed.

#outlander fanfic outlander fanfiction jamie and claire fanfiction

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justkending · 6 years

Text

A True Wesson. Part 8

Summary: You are a prodigy hunter that recently lost her father on a hunt after you decided to retire from the hunting life. You run into the Winchesters when a case comes up in your town. Along the way you realize something that you always felt but never truly understood about yourself.

Chapter Summary: Let the hunt begin is all I have to say…

Warning: Cussing.

Word Count: 3266

Pairing: Eventual Dean x (Hunter/ Supernatural) Reader, Sam.

AUTHOR NOTES: My first time writing this stuff ever! Give me all the thoughts, comments, and questions! Therefore, feedback is welcome! Most importantly ENJOY YA’LL!!! Gifs not mine.

MASTERLIST

Part 8:

Sam and Dean pulled up to Kendall’s house exactly 1 hour after leaving the station. They were both nervous about what could happen tonight with where your head was at.

“Sammy, I don’t feel comfortable letting her go into this with the state of mind she’s in. It was kind of personal before, but now someone she really cares for apparently is one of the damn hostages.” Dean said still in the car looking at your house while speaking to Sam.

“I know, but remember what Rosie said. Somehow, she works better. At least that’s what we can hope.” Sam said as they both got out of the car, and headed up the steps of the porch.

They knocked, but no one answered. They glanced at each other then knocked one more time.

“Kendall? Kendall You here?” Sam said now going for the door knob. Unlocked.

“Kendall?” Dean was concerned and on alert walking into the open door.

You came running in from the garage door, and were removing different pieces of gear that weren’t necessary for the hunt from your car to make more room. You looked up and saw the boys and let out a sigh of relief.

“Good you’re here! We can get a move on then.” You said now running into your room to grab some last items.

“Whatcha doing there Ken?” Dean asked confused why you were packing blankets and extra jackets too. “We aren’t going on a picnic. This is actually the opposite of a picnic in the park.”

“I’m not a dimwit Dean.” You were going in and out of the garage and looking around frantically for something. “Once we get the girls out they may want some security of a blanket or even a jacket. It’s a small detail, but it makes a difference to someone who’s been taken away from their home.”

You suddenly stopped and raised your eyebrows as if you finally remembered what you were looking for. You ran back to your room and came back in the living room where the two boys who were trying to wrap their heads around your actions were standing.

“Lucky knife. Can’t go on a hunt without it.” You said sticking the ivory handled switchblade into your boot. “Ok enough standing around, let’s head out.” You turned and headed to the garage to hop in you Colorado.

“Wait a minute, we are taking my car this time.” Dean said swinging a hand toward the door and turning to where his body was in a stance that was saying ‘After you ma’am’.

“Uh yeah. No. When we get those girls out of there. I doubt all 6 of them are going to want to cram in the back seat of your car.” You said matter of fact like. “We are taking my truck too. It’s the smarter thing to do.”

“She’s not wrong.” Sam said glad that you were thinking logically so far.

“Fine, but I’m driving with you. That way we can-.” Dean started. Now facing you completely.

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks though. I’m use to doing hunts like this by myself anyway, you’ll mess up my routine.” You said turning and heading to your car.

“Wasn’t a question sweetheart.” Dean said jogging toward you and grabbing onto your shoulder.

You immediately grabbed his hand and twisted it behind his back. You followed the movement and ended up behind him, one hand on his shoulder and the other on his wrist keeping it in place on his lower back. He bent over due to the position, and you whispered in his ear, “If you think I’m incapable of this hunt because of an emotional tie you’re wrong. Don’t underestimate me Dean, I don’t have time for you to be playing my knight and shining armor when I don’t need one.” You let go and patted his shoulder. “Got it?” You said with a big grin. He looked over at you and rubbed at his wrist. He was not happy with that little stunt, but he was also a little turned on if he was honest with you being that assertive and close to him. But he was still mad he told himself.

You turned and looked over at Sam who had his eyebrows raised and mouth open, and then quickly shut.

“Guess we will meet you there Sammy.” You said now walking into the garage to load up. “Come one. I don’t have all day Dean-o!”

“Forget about worrying about her, I think she will be fine.” Sam chuckled a little causing Dean mock his laugh and then roll his eyes. He rolled his shoulders trying to compose himself after that embarrassing moment. Then he headed into the car with you.

The ride was about 25-30 minutes out of town. You and Dean rode in silence for the first 5 minutes until he broke it.

“So who is this Addison girl, and why did it cause you to go all Chief like at the station.” Dean said.

“Well I am the Chief, so that’s why I acted like it, and my men let something slip and I wasn’t too happy about it.” You said one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your knee you had propped up on the door. “As for Addison… She’s like an adopted sister. I’ve known her most of my life. Babysat for her, and just grew a really strong relationship with her. Strong, smart, and loving kid who I would do anything for.” You paused before looking over at him, making eye contact, “Anything.” You said in a serious tone.

“Listen, having one tie to the hunt is one thing, but two? You really need to be thinking straight on this-“ he began before he was cut off by your frustration.

“What do you mean two? Are you talking about the one with my dad?” you looked his direction and saw he hadn’t shifted his attention anywhere from you. Probably didn’t mean to let what he knew slip. “I told you Dean, my dad and I cleared out that nest. Nothing got out of there that has to do with this one.” You focused on the road not wanting to continue the conversation. Knuckles clutching onto the wheel harder now. “I made sure of it.”

Dean saw the shift in tone and hesitated on pushing. Against his better judgment, he pushed. “Kendall, Rosie told us what happened to your dad. I would be concerned if you weren’t acting all vengeful right now, but either way I’m concerned you may come at this the wrong way if your not smart about-”

“WHAT! Rosie told you, what? What exactly did she say? That wasn’t her story to tell you.” You looked over at Dean fuming with anger.

Before you could continue he cut you off by saying, “Hey, you know she did it just so we could look out for you better. We both know your stubbornness wouldn’t let you tell us yourself. Now we know your motive behind all this.”

“My MOTIVE? My ‘motive’ is to get these girls to safety and make the world have a few less blood suckers in it, DEAN! Just because I held my dying father in my hands due to a stupid fault of mine doesn’t make me some broken girl in a corner who can’t take care of herself, or even others for that matter!” You were now white knuckling the steering wheel and waving you other hand around as you got more upset. “Did you and Sam ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe I would learn from my mistakes and improve from them?”

A pause as the tension stayed stale in the air.

“That’s what I thought. One bad thing happens a girl and all of a sudden her emotions take over, and she can’t function anymore. Sorry bud, but that ain’t me…”

A moment of extremely awkward silence.

“I’m not saying you can’t take care of yourself, I’m saying you have to be willing to take the help when it’s there. I’m saying-“ he was cut of again.

“I know what your saying, and I think you should just stop while you're ahead.”

Dean watched you with eyes of pain. Not for him, but for you. You were like him when it came to being stubborn, and taking the blame for things the world threw at you. It was never your fault, but you took it on like it was. He decided to just let you cool off before you arrived at your location.

10 pm

3 blocks from the house you pulled off into a wooded area, Sam right behind you. This way the vamps didn’t suspect you.

You immediately snapped out of the mood Dean had put you in, as soon as you went into hunter mode. The rest of the ride you had time to cool off, and realized Rosie was just looking out for you, and so was Dean. That didn’t mean you were ok with being treated like a child by the two hunters though, so you were still frustrated by that.

You hopped out of the truck and went to the back where you kept your arsenal. You pulled out two machete’s putting one in a holster on your side and keeping to other in your hand. Dean had gone over by Sam to gear up as well. You met back in-between the two cars.

“So what’s the attack plan?” you said looking toward Sam more.

“Well I was thinking on the way here,” Sam started telling you his plan. “In summary, Dean and I will take out the vamps while you go to take care of the hostages. We’ll get more detailed once we have the house mapped out.”

“I’m all for taking care of the girls, but who’s to say there’s not more vamps in there than you too can handle.” You said crossing your arms, and popping out your hip.

“Trust me sweetheart, we can handle a lot more than you think.” Dean said.

“Hmm mmm… and what happened to taking the help when it’s there, huh Dean?” you retorted causing him to raise an eyebrow and scoff while looking over to his brother. “Here’s what I’m thinking.” You started wanting to get to the point and get a jump on the hunt. “We go and scout out the place, and as soon as we see what we are up against we meet back up and split up from there. While we are scouting out for the amount of vamps there are, also be checking for entries into the house where we will be least seen or heard.” You only paused for a second to take in their reactions, and before they could say anything you spoke up again. “Get it? Got it? Good.” With that you turned and swayed away.

As much as the boys wanted to fight you on it, it was a good plan and one where you weren’t just running in guns blazing like they expected you to. Sam shrugged toward Dean and Dean rolled his eyes, and let out a huff of air then started stomping like a toddler who didn’t get his way to catch up to you.

Three blocks later…

Once you were outside the old southern house that was surrounded by trees and woods, you all found a place in a wooded area to meet up after you scoped out the place. It was dark out and the boys were planning on waiting for sunrise so they could have an upper hand, but you were waiting for any sign to make a jump now.

“Ok let’s split up and check out some different vantage point to get in there unnoticed. I’ll take the southside, Dean you take the east, and Sam you take the west. Also try to keep track of how many vamps there could be.” You said turning and making your way off to your self assigned station. Dean grabbed your wrist before you could get too far away. “I’m getting real tired of you doing that, you know?” you said debating flipping him on his back to show him to back off.

“We meet back here in 5. You hear me?” He said.

“Yeah, yeah I won’t go barging in. I’m not suicidal.” You ripped your arm free of his grasp and continued on your way. The boys dividing up themselves.

6 minutes later…

Sam was already back not having found much on his side. Dean was walking back himself and was looking around for you.

“Where is she? I swear if she went in alone I’m gonna-”Dean was looking everywhere for you, and hadn’t noticed you had slipped behind him.

“You’re gonna what?” You said catching them both off guard. “No really finish the sentence… I dare ya.” You squinted your eyes at him, and put a hand on your hip. He just looked at you then acted like there was something on his hand that was more important. You embarrassed him once again. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Dean raised his head and had started to open his mouth, but you cut him off.

Crossing your arms now you walked up to the boys and started to point towards the house letting them in on what you found. “So the south side led to the back porch. Back porch was vacant, but we are definitely in the right place I found some blood bags in the trash, which hopefully means that they aren’t feeding off the girls. If this is like the case with my dad, they are trying to build a bigger nest.”

“Good work Detective.” Dean said in an almost sarcastic tone, still annoyed that you keep embarrassing him in front of his little brother.

“Ok, and what about you Mr. Winchester what did you find?” you said facing towards him now.

“Well I think we have and easy entry through the east. There is a side door that leads to a smaller room that was empty when I checked. It was locked, but it old and rusted so it can easily be broken in to.” He said proud of his work.

“Sam?” you said turning toward him, but Dean was still watching you move.

“Not anything useful on the West side entrance wise. I did see about 6 vamps in a room over there, but I think there are definitely more.” He said trying to think what they were up against. “We can all go in through the east side where Dean said, and we can start taking them out from there.”

“16.” You said.

They both looked toward you confused by your random thought.

“16 vamps that’s what we are dealing with.” You had focused your senses around you to detect how many there were earlier when you were by yourself. You could sense 16 spirits and energies that weren’t human.

“Ok, and how do you know that?” Said Dean, but you could tell Sam was just as curious.

“Ummm. I heard one of them say it…” crap you probably shouldn’t have been so blunt about it. They don’t know about your gifts. They don’t need to. “One of them inside said something about adding to the family of 16 or something.” You paused hoping they would buy it. It was a really crappy lie.

They just stared at you debating on asking more questions or just going with it.

“What? I can’t help what I overheard a conversation. At least we know, ok? Let’s just get back on topic. The Plan…” they were still staring at you. “Anyway, you guys go through the East side, and I’ll go through the south, I’m pretty sure I saw a door to a possible basement through the backdoor. I’ll go check and see if the girls are in there and if not then I’ll meet up with you until we find them.” You said drawing attention to the important matter at hand.

“Ha yeah no.” Dean said before you could go any further. “Yeah you’re not going in there by yourself. I’ll go with you and Sam can go in the Eastside.”

“Dean so help me God, if you keep treating me like a newbie hunter I’m going to kick you as hard as I can where the sun doesn’t shine.” You said through gritted teeth getting closer to him.

“Hey! Cut it out you too.” Sam was now interfering and stepping in between you and Dean who were almost chest to chest at that point. “Dean, Kendall can handle herself ok? I trust that, plus she needs to look for the girls while we take care of the nest. If there really is 16 of them, I won’t be able to take them all on my own if you’re with her.”

Dean and you were both still glaring at each other. His look was filled with protectiveness and concern, while yours was pure annoyance for not letting you do your own thing.

“Fine!” he said giving in. “But Kendall you get the girls and get them to safety, don’t come running back for us! Ok?” he was now point a finger at you waiting for an answer.

You knew the only way for this argument to be dropped was if you gave him the answer he wanted. So you did. “Ok.” You didn’t mean it though once you got the girls out, you were jumping into action along side of them. “Now, let's go.”

Before you could hightail it out of there, Sam was the one to call back to you. “Kendall, it’s still dark. We agreed to wait until sunrise at least.”

“You can’t drag me out here and then expect me to sit here like a duck, and not do anything!”

“Kendall, come on you know it’s safer and smarter.” Dean said this time.

“You know what’s safer? Those girls not being in there. I would rather I get beat up or hurt, and them come out safe. Than they end up dead because I wanted it to be safer for me.” You said making a good point.

“It’s safer for them too Ken. If it’s light outside it’s less of a chance for them to get hurt too.” Sam made another valid point.

You looked at the house then back at Sam and Dean, then back at the house. “Fine! OK! But if I hear or see anything that’s suspicious or I don’t like, I’m going in. No questions asked.” You said waving a finger at the two.

“Ok. Ok. We will work with what we can get.” Sam said. Dean definitely didn’t agree, but he didn’t fight it and instead leaned up against a tree and crossed his arms. You did the same and then started to slide down the tree to wait it out.

30 Minutes later a blood curdling scream came from the house. You all jolted up and turned your heads toward the house. You didn’t think twice and grabbed the machete by you and started to run toward the back door through the tree line.

Dean and Sam tried to stop you or slow you down at least, but were too slow.

“Son of a Bitch!” Dean whisper shouted as he saw you sprint toward the house.

Part 9

Tags:

@sleepless-sin @luci-in-trenchcoats @ain-t-bovvered @dean-winchesters-bacon @angelkurenai@unabashedsoul97 @sandlee44@gripmetight-raisemefromperdition@cabbagewithissues@supersleepygoat@anotherwaywardsister @torn-and-frayed@spnwoman@ravengirl94@carryonmywaywardcaptain@ezilyamuzed@ain-t-bovvered @thosekidswhohuntmonsters @purpleskiesandcherrypies @anise-d-castle6

#supernatural series #supernatural #dean x reader #badasswoman #atruewesson

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