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batfamscreaming · 4 years

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Dick’s first day of school snuck up on them.

Bruce drove him down in a rusty small blue honda civic from the 1990s. They’d picked it up off the lot for under 3,000 and were using it as a way to ferry themselves to the junkyard to pick up parts for their special car--but for now, they were using it to drop Dick off at school.

Drop Richard Malone off at school.

On paper, Alfred paid for Dick to attend Gotham academy. A private school. It had both boarders and day students. Dick would be a day student, so long as it was feasible.

...on the first day of school, Bruce drove Dick down to his alma mater (which translated to ‘place you never wanted to visit again,’) and dropped him off outside the gates.

“Want me to walk you in, Chum?” he asked, despite it not being any Malone’s alma mater yet, and Dick glanced back at him and shook his head sharply, mumbling a quiet “see you later,” before going off towards the gates.

Bruce turned to drive home and realized, belatedly, that Dick had never not been homeschooled.

He waited for afternoon to pick Dick up again, and resolved to remember to pick up milkshakes on the way back, so he can ask how the day was with a backup plan.

“It is not the right time of year to prune,” Alfred told him. It was far too close to school starting. Far too close to fall. “But, I suppose, it isn’t impossible . It will just be a good bit trickier to know which branches need it.”

Bruce obligingly bought a new plant from a chain store--a nursery would’ve properly pruned it weeks ago, but chain stores didn’t have that same attention. Alfred brought it home in a little green planter: a tiny bush cut into a lopsided circle.

“This isn’t, in fact, how to do it,” Alfred said, setting it beside Bruce on the patio table. “Can you tell me why?”

“..it doesn’t target the dead branches,” Bruce said, and Alfred gave a nod.

“It’s indiscriminate. And quite sloppy.”

He handed Bruce a pair of pruning shears.

“With it cut like this, it’s a little difficult to find the dead branches, but you’ll manage.”

...after a moment, Bruce shoved his hand inside the bush and just… gripped one of the little branches that didn’t have any leaves on it between his fingers. He glanced at Alfred, who nodded obligingly and gave a smile that felt far too much like it was meant for a child.

“How far back do I cut?”

“As far back as you can.”

Bruce nodded and pushed the shears in. And snipped.

The metahuman had power over plants, the paper the day before had said. She argued she’d been acting in self-defense. Her children were crying out for help. And so she helped.

(“‘ I is hearing the scream of a flower as its stem is twisted from the ground,’” Dick read aloud by Bruce’s bedside, trying to work through the recommended reading list for his level. One year behind his age level wasn’t bad for three years on the road, but it was a lot to catch up on all the same. “‘ I is hearing the soft moan of the old oak, like an old man dying, weeping, when it is felled.’ ”)

As the state of New Jersey did not recognize plants as people or her as the property owner, her appeal was denied. She would spend several years above minimum in Belle Reve for aggravated assault.

(even though the one she assaulted wasn’t there. Bruce hadn’t stepped into court. Bruce hadn’t said a thing. There was one phone call, and a woman, naked, trapped outside on a Gotham street, and then five other people stepped forward, claiming to be someone she’d attacked.

And he didn’t know what to think about that. If what everyone said was true was true, or if it was just falling into the fallacy of mob mentality. If it was easier to accept what was said as true. Even if he'd seen the violence first hand, it was him being attacked, that was different--)

He kept his mouth shut, and reached for the next dead branch, and clipped.

“...and how would I trim something that’s not dead, but it might… be overgrown? Or the wrong height?”

“Hmm,” Alfred said, still watching him. “Well, first we will need to get you a proper ladder.”

Justly imprisoned or not, the metahuman--a former botanist called Pamela Isley--would be in Belle Reve for several years.

Maybe he could change something in this town while she was gone.

Therefore, Mr. Malone came to the Gotham Parks and Recreation office, asking if when he got this 501c3 approved that he be allowed to enter Robinson Park and clean up the place.

And the budget-starved Parks office said fuckin’ do it if you’re brave enough, man , and sent him on his way.

It was… much easier than he expected, really. But perhaps the Parks department carried so little influence no one had even bothered to bribe them to keep people out. All the same, he’d listen to that backwards warning.

He drafted the papers in two days. He worked over it at dinner, trying to fill the gap that had once been occupied by discussing with Dick where to travel next and how to best avoid a million impending dooms. He had a free consultation with an attorney in the morning who looked up at Bruce over his glasses, eyebrows up, and reminded Bruce that the park was where mob deals went down and that grassy lady attacked a fella the other day.

Bruce said that was fine. He knew. He wasn’t here to cause a ruckus.

Legal documents. Articles of Affiliation. Mission Statement. It was helpful to have a second pair of eyes that actually expected the little bureaucracies innate in law, things that Dick and Alfred preferred to grumble at rather than knot through. Not that Bruce had been trained in law himself, but his school friend, Harvey Dent--

(was still in the hospital. Burn ward. He’d stabilized, but wasn’t often conscious--)

...Bruce submitted the paperwork after the Parks commission met with him, and then all he had to do was draw up a budget and wait. Alfred ‘lent’ Mr. Malone the startup money to establish a paper trail. After the initial donation, Bruce could make periodic donations to himself in various names; have miraculous windfalls whenever cash grew thin. Even without any backing or campaigns, he could make this startup impossible to fail.

...the problem is, Bruce has long proven his judgement is impaired.

When Dick returns from school not sniffling but vibrating with stress all the same, Bruce’s first thought is to run and start over somewhere else.

He thinks it might be an averted suicide response. The need to pack up and leave the current problems behind. With a hardline against being able to die, his mind latches onto another option. A fight-or-flight response that only hits flight when the problem isn’t something that can’t be physically fought off, like a tween coming into the car and sitting down in the passenger seat with a deep sigh.

...Bruce asks how his day was.

Dick says it was fine.

Bruce doesn’t ask if he wants a milkshake. He goes through the drive-through and buys some anyway. They go home and work how to install tail fins on the car frame slowly coming together in their garage.

...the ‘suicide’ response isn’t the only thing that lingers. Bruce isn’t really sure ‘lingering’ is the right term, actually. The flight response only arises when things can’t be handled directly in front of himself anymore, but the fight response--

Bruce has impaired judgment.

He proved it as soon as his first ‘suicide’ response sent him to the League of Assassins, and he decided to not flee the moment they made it clear nothing would continue until he took a life. He proved it when he wasn’t able to avoid dragging a literal child in the middle of a personal crisis into his mess, rather than leaving him somewhere safe and far, far away from him. He proved it with each near-death experience from Deathstroke in Metropolis to Isley in Gotham.

And yet, here he was again, finding himself cleaning up the Batman suit long after Dick was put to bed, adjusting it with better material to withstand a bullet’s penetration.

The people at the parks department weren’t wrong. It would be dangerous to work the area while the mob still operated widely inside it, and he would not cooperate alongside the mobs for protection. The alternative was therefore relatively obvious: get rid of the mobs.

Mobs weren’t exactly like a snake, but they did function well enough like one. Cut off the head. And like a hydra, if new heads sprouted--smother them.

...that, at least, he knew how to do. Kidnapping and recon, and finding information. Find proof of a mob boss’ wrongdoing and get a prosecutor not so cowardly to be bribed. Hand the information over. Don’t let them fail the charges. High profile dangerous people wouldn’t be kept in a local jail, but would likely be transferred to a higher-security prison, circumnavigating the cluttering, and with a focus on high-priority prisoners rather than most random people out on the street, they would be moved through the system more quickly, hopefully at least stalling out their operations in the meantime, if not shattering the whole system beneath them with the sudden departure.

This was the best plan he had, and it relied far, far too much on too many external variables--finding a clean court, getting a jury that felt safe enough to actually put their foot down, finding witnesses willing to testify, a prosecutor who wouldn't be bribed--

(fuck)

--and dealing with a Commissioner whose good graces he might’ve worn out.

…

But the alternatives were to allow this to continue growing, complicit by his own inaction.

(he was already complicit enough in too many crimes.)

(How did you clean up a world that you yourself aided in the destruction of?)

Prosecutors that couldn't be bribed?

They ended up like Harvey Dent.

Batman appears without Robin that evening, because it is a school night and Dick needs to sleep. He stops what crimes in progress he comes across and starts watching Robinson Park more closely.

He doesn't interfere inside it. He just watches. Plants cameras in the bushes and on the branches of trees, and zips his way out, to watch the footage and get to know the day and nighttime patterns of the area.

It… will take time. That's something he's not used to. Dick and he worked fast on the road, and even before that he was either handed his information by the ones lower down the chain or only spent a handful of days doing legwork to verify things that'd been missed. Instant gratification, he guessed he could call it. Just… dealing out a death and being done with it.

(And somehow, he'd drawn the line at known violent mobsters and Deathstroke.)

...he had to do a lot of meditation to get through the park video feeds. He had a lot of work stacking up between tracking down faces from the feeds. Police database of mugshots helped more than he expected. He started a tally of how many people in the mugshots were brought in bloodied and who brought them in to look into later.

After all, if Gotham was going to get rid of its mob problem, the police force would need some pruning, too.

Gotham recidivism was above 80%. Bruce gargled his coffee and tried very hard to not spit it out somewhere, because somehow, he was more tired by this statistic than shocked. A bit of, ‘oh, I knew it would be high, but really?’

No fucking wonder there weren’t enough cells in the world.

(What do you do when you can’t put anymore garbage in a landfill?

Learning what a fucking recycling program is might be a good first step.)

It's okay, though. He's totally got a handle on this. He's already been looking into what makes recidivism lower, and the difficulty of access to jobs for felons seems like a big one. Lack of change to living situations that caused pettier crimes like reselling material or shoplifting. The inside prison situation has an effect, according to Norway, which has a prison system Bruce isn't even hoping to replicate, even if he were a living millionaire with a clear conscience.

Reading other people's’ writings on recidivism has… definitely helped clarify things for him, even if all he can think of for the worst of criminals is still to lock them in a cell far away from everyone or until the death penalty finally takes it out of his hands.

But it is one thing to lock up a murderer who sabotaged a family performance and killed in front of an audience, and children, and child … versus locking up the child who killed trying to protect their family from an abusive partner.

They’re different. They have to be.

If Bruce has any right to be alive, he has to be able to believe in gray areas.

Bruce drops the first of several Maroni forerunners on Gordon's desk in the northern precinct. When he finds the precinct desk vacant, he pays a visit to the commissioner’s house instead.

The thought process is that it would probably be best to clarify that the dropoff isn’t an attack on the commissioner's authority. It’s an opening for compromise. Bruce will be mindful of the incarceration rates, but he won’t be leaving Gotham and he’d like cooperation from the police when it came to prosecution.

Unfortunately, he proposes it in the form of a paper note (written in his off-hand) slipped onto Gordon’s bedroom table where the man will notice it as soon as he returns for bed, which is much more threatening than he fully realizes.

(He doesn’t imagine Gordon’s daughter will find the note first and replace it just as she found it after reading. Then again, he doesn’t ever find out it happened, either.)

The county’s defense office wants to cut a plea deal with the gangster brought in, because no one wants to be the next Harvey Dent. The Assistant DA, a woman named Rachel Dawes, seems willing to try, but the department is extremely reluctant to support her, even as she steps up to take Dent’s place until another election can be held.

In the precinct, Bruce’s audiobugs catch officers he’s tracking placing bets on how long until someone finishes Dent off in his hospital bed.

Bruce decides he needs to be more aggressive.

Twenty-seven aggressive anonymous tipoffs and two synchronized FBI raids half a month later, and Bruce is startled when the door to his bedroom opens and Dick walks in. Bruce doesn't really jump in surprise anymore-- it’s more of… half reaching a position to fight, and stopping in a split second as he realizes the threat doesn't exist.

“Ah,” he says, “do you need--?”

“I was at school,” Dick says, answering the question in an odd way. He didn't need anything, he'd just come back from school--

Bruce’s neck snaps up to look at the clock, while the other part of his brain realizes that it’s nearly dark outside.

“Did Alfred--” he says, a panicky shame he’s not used to rising up within him.

“No,” Dick says, shrugging his backpack off and slumping onto bed. “When I realized you weren't coming I walked home.”

Bruce's throat feels tight. “You should've called.”

“Figured you were busy,” Dick says, watching the ceiling, “you've got more important stuff than school.”

Bruce remembers, the pain less raw with years, the slow agony of a school day, knowing there must be more he could do than sit through the farce.

He remembers that agony of adolescent uselessness clearly, pain dulled or not, but he’s also wisened to its falsehood over the years. There was little he could manage at the time.

“...I’ll set an alarm next time, but school isn't unimportant,” he says, keeping calm and controlled for an extra moment, before doing a double-take on the thought he’d had just a moment before.

Adolescence?!

School is over a month in. Dick’s anniversary is coming up soon. Bruce has gotten the Feds back in Gotham and an internal investigation into the police force for corruption. His nonprofit is finalizing some paperwork and looking into how to hire nonviolent offenders and start training them for small-time landscaping and cleanup by contracting with a local pre-established landscape crew that mostly does the outer and northern Gotham estates. Harvey Dent is conscious but minimally verbal in the hospital. And Dick is thirteen, officially a teenager.

Bruce does not know how teenagers are different from younger children. He does not recall being any different than he is now at either age. Only morose haze interspersed by flashes of overwhelming tension and temper.

Harvey once knew him at that age. Not that Bruce could talk to Harvey--not… as himself. The man Harvey knew was long, long dead, (or, it would be simpler if that man was dead, and Bruce as he was now was a new man entirely--) and it’s not as though Bruce could ask advice anyway.

Still. Maybe he will send Harvey some flowers they’ve started in the backyard...

Once the Justice League gets out of his living room.

Aside from Superman calling over the phone whenever he seems to please, once a month Martian Manhunter seems to show up, posing as just another social worker or lawyer or family friend, here to check in on how things are going with adoption, or the 501C3, or the… latest cookies out of the oven.

And if it’s not Martian Manhunter helping Dick sneak cookies off the cooling rack, then it’s Wonder Woman, which is somehow even worse.

There are not a lot of situations when Bruce would rather a mind reader with incredible telekinetic powers who could mentally and emotionally cripple him with a thought be in his presence, versus just a very strong lady who could rip him in two by breathing.

Diana Prince has made that situation a monthly occurrence.

She came this time while they were in the garage, putting together a much-overdue car engine. Alfred had insisted on dinner before business. Diana Prince stands in his house for over an hour by the time the rope finally came out and they got down to business. It is an hour too long. Bruce doesn’t think he’s had more than a few words of conversation with her since they moved into Alfred’s townhouse late summer, but he has heard the same questions out of her mouth far too many times.

“Have you been hurt lately?”

“No,” Dick says, because he only patrols on weekends, and Bruce makes sure he’s kept well away from anything that looks like it will have guns.

“Are you being treated well?”

“Yes.”

“Are you happy?”

“Y…”

...Bruce blinks for a second, before he realizes that Dick’s teeth are clenched tight and his face is turning faintly to another color.

“Dick…?” Diana says, before Dick gives into the rope, and says the truth.

“No.”

He’s not sure if anyone else can hear the air leave the room, but it does, and Bruce feels his lungs collapse in the vacuum left behind. His stomach shrivels into a ball.

He wants to run from the room, but his feet are too heavy and slow to move, so he just crosses his arms even tighter, and digs his fingers into his ribs.

“...why is that?” Diana asks. She doesn’t even glance back at Bruce when she does it. She doesn’t even glance away in the first place, even as Dick is screwing his eyes shut. The color his face has settled on is red, and blotchy, and fast.

Dick drops the rope from his hand and hiccups.

Bruce can’t move to comfort him.

...Diana looks between Dick, and the dropped rope, and pulls it back into the lasso loop. She stands.

“...I’m going to head outside for a bit and give you two some privacy.”

She turns and walks out to the garden, where Alfred is still watering the flowers.

Dick hiccups again, and Bruce is a stranger in his own body as he sits on the floor cross legged, and pulls Dick into his arms.

...he’s a lot bigger than he was when he was eight and curled into Bruce’s side, just minutes after his parents fell. Bruce puts his hand on the kid’s head, fingers running through the cropped dark hair.

“...Dick?” Bruce says. “Dick?”

He doesn’t get a response. He sits there, uncomfortably rubbing Dick’s hair, until Diana returns some long minutes later, announcing it’s about time she headed out.

“I’ll see you next month,” she says, mostly to Dick, who still hasn’t looked up.

Even as Bruce wonders if it’s a threat, something in his chest loosens when Diana leaves and Dick stays behind.

Eventually, they get up, and try to get ready for bed.

—

Harvey Dent wakes up again.

The last thing he remembers is a gun being pulled on him; a court case that he had to win, no matter what—

The nurses are alerted to his consciousness by the sound of his screaming.

Bruce Malone has no reason to visit him. No clearance. No nothing. All he does is run a small nonprofit startup, currently sending out applications to the very criminals Harvey put behind bars.

He doubts Batman would be welcome.

—

Gotham elects temp-head Rachel Dawes to permanent DA to finish out Harvey’s term by seventeen votes. Bruce doesn’t rig the election, though he thinks of doing so. Instead, he spends the week beforehand trying to disrupt the bribery network connecting the ballot counters to the remaining mob and asking Robin to go make sure the paperless polls aren’t hacked the night before.

...Robin isn’t happy with Bruce going out on his own still. But they compromise, some.

They send Harvey flowers.

They leave a note on Dawes’ desk. An offer, if she needs anything. They don’t want her to end up like her predecessor.

—

In the morning, at the first hint of workable weather, Bruce has some on-parole inmates and recent-releases standing in the middle of the park, shivering, holding shovels and rakes.

This is the first day they’ll be working together and training on the job. There will be a stipend associated with the work. Tools are provided. There’s just—they haven’t done this before. And neither has Bruce Malone, who failed to shake off his kid, Richard, who is sitting off on a picnic table not far away, arms wrapped around his snow pants and pouting furiously.

...He stays quiet as Bruce starts showing the group what they’re supposed to be doing— first snipping the large bushes down to size, raking the sticks and leaves into piles, and then coming up the back with shovels to help define areas for mulch beds around the bushes. Generally they would not be pruning this early into fall, but… the bushes have to go.

It’s step one (ignoring Bruce’s personal twenty-step plan midway through execution) to help keep the park safe and free-er of illegal activities: just being able to see into the damn park.

Once they actually start working, Richard gets up from his perch and glumly takes a rake, helping follow along and pulling the old foliage and branches into a set of neat piles a couple feet out of the way.

It would be one thing if Dick seemed to be having fun, but… he doesn’t really. He’s tolerant enough with the car (whose construction has largely stalled) but he’s never really had the kind of brain like Bruce’s which likes the simple, repetitive patterns of gardening, or kata, or math.

(“I don’t want to stay home,” Dick had said that morning.

“Then wouldn’t going out with a friend be better?” Bruce said over breakfast.

“I don’t have any friends!”

Bruce did not respond to that, and had escorted Dick to the park.)

...they pack up in the later afternoon, when the sun is still high but before banks close-- Bruce gathering up all the direct deposit information for the ones who sound interested in coming back, and paying the rest with checks. Dick waits in the car.

When they drive back home, something big, and blue, and midwestern is already in their kitchen, and is talking to Alfred about pie crust technique.

( Hell. )

Superman is wearing his full goddamn uniform as they enter. He turns and smiles when they come into the living room, raising up one big hand to greet them.

“Hey there! Decided I’d stop by.”

“....You did,” Bruce agrees, while Dick seems to perk up, eyes widening at the very large and blue man leaning on the counter.

Dick had met Superman already. Spent a week at least on the same spaceship as him. Stared him down over Bruce’s unconscious body. Somehow, it wasn’t stopping him from having that bright excitement in his eyes, now.

Maybe Superman was more exciting when he presumably wasn’t here to arrest anyone.

Presumably.

“Uh-huh,” said Superman. “And Mr. Pennyworth was telling me some about how things have been going for you here! Community service work. Sounds good.”

Sounded innocent was more like it. Sounded like prisoners in bright orange vests on the roadsides picking up litter for fifty cents an hour. Doing time, paying back society for all he’d done to it— yeah, he figured it would sound good to Superman.

“It is,” said Bruce.

Dick, maybe in a better mood now that they were out of the Gotham smog, saves him again.

“Are you here for dinner?” Dick asked, not quite on his tiptoes—not on his tiptoes at all, actually.

He’d grown again, Bruce realized. Now he stood almost to Bruce’s ribs, where once he’d had to stretch to reach.

“No, I didn’t think I’d be that welcome,” Superman said, smiling sheepishly, and good. At least he knew. “I’m just the messenger this time. Because we are going to have to start cashing in on that deal we made.”

For a moment, Bruce’s heart stills, and he feels Dick tense just a little bit beside him.

(Is it wrong, for a moment, that he’s still glad that Dick tenses when they both know it won’t be him attacked?)

“Woah, woah, no scary faces—“ Bruce’s face had not changed. “We just need your input. Information sharing, remember? Flash has had some weird things going on in his neighborhood and we thought maybe it’d be something you’d recognize.”

...Right.

Right.

He was getting protection from This League in exchange for cooperation, not just his dignity.

Before he could pull himself back into his body, Superman added, “and Robin too, of course.”

“Robin doesn’t need to—“ Bruce began.

“—Robin would be delighted ,” Dick said, raising his voice unnecessarily high and drowning out Bruce’s own.

Bruce looked down at Dick, mouth flat. Dick stared back up at him, scowling and arms crossed.

“You hate busywork,” said Bruce.

“It’ll be fine!” Said Superman, suddenly in his face , arms moving between him and Dick, pushing them apart, like they were dangerous to each other— “Flash was just going to bring his kid, uh, flash along with him, and thought it would be good for them to meet. Should’ve led with that. Just, giving kids friends in their own age bracket.”

Bruce had stood rock still, staring at the same spot Dick had been, now blocked by Superman’s arms. He did not look away.

“Yes,” Bruce said. “You should’ve led with that.”

—

...the next evening, his attempts at trimming his hair were interrupted by Alfred, who was quick to steal the scissors away and finish things himself. Soon, it was short enough he could slick it back for the first time in… a while. He pulled on one of his better dark turtlenecks. Business slacks. Dark shoes. Dark. Maybe too obviously a hide-away-in-the-background type dark.

They met Flash… on the other side of a zeta beam. Bruce hadn’t ridden one since first being escorted from the Watchtower to Gotham.

He hadn’t forgotten how uncomfortable it was, but it was one thing to remember in the mind and another to be given a reminder in the body.

Neither he nor Dick were in costume. There was no reason for Batman and Robin to suddenly be in Central. There would hopefully be no reason for anyone to suspect Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson to travel so far away from their little safe haven and attack.

Flash, however, did have some things to protect still, and so he waited on the other side of the zeta with his bright red costume made darker in the night, and an unfortunately bright smudge of yellow standing beside him.

“Hey, Bats,” Flash said, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you nicely this time.”

Bruce was really glad he hadn’t given in to breaking this guy’s legs. That would have made this reintroduction unbearably uncomfortable. As it was, he met the hand slowly, and enough of a sound for acknowledgement.

Flash didn’t say anything about it, turning instead to Dick. “And you! Also glad to see you’re doing fine; hooow’s the ankle. This is my sidekick, Kid Flash.”

There was no time to answer to the ankle before Flash had introduced and thumped the yellow teen him on the back, getting the very encouraging response, “I’m not a kid I’m a teenager, ” which was too obvious to have needed pointing out, considering the cracks in his voice and the speckles acne surrounding his lips. “Don’t embarrass me!”

“I would never do that.”

(While Bruce remained cold in his skin despite the warm night, beside him, Dick let out a little bit of a laugh. Almost a few huffs of one, really. It was softening. It was enough to unfreeze Bruce some and get him going again.)

“You needed help with identification?” said Bruce, stepping forward to end the introductions.

Flash’s expression changed back to serious in a… flash. At least he didn’t look disappointed. Or surprised. “Yeah. Follow me, there’s a place a little more private down the street.”

That place ended up being a deli bakery. One that had very much closed for the evening, and had shuttered its windows for good measure. This made very little difference to Flash, who pulled out a key from a very discreet pocket, and opened the staff door in the back.

“They donate the day-old stuff to me,” Flash said, grinning, like that explained much at all. “Why don’t you kids go see if there’s anything set on top of the counters in the back?”

The little yellow flash made a sound that wasn’t quite a whoop, but wasn’t quite quiet, either.

And then the little hand reached out, grabbed Robin’s wrist, and pulled him through the door behind the counter.

“Woah, easy, chief.”

Flash’s hand wasn’t touching Bruce, no, but it was in front of him, ready to block and restrain in a movement as Bruce took a step forward to follow.

He turned to look at Flash, and met his same hard eyes looking back through Flash’s mask.

“They’re just gonna look around and see if they can find some food. It’s fine.”

Bruce knew that was just what they were doing, of course. He just wanted to— check. Just to make sure. It was a closed up shop of people they didn’t know in a city that was too dark and empty at night, save for a few well-maintained streetlamps and a pair of teenage girls walking down the sidewalk to the seven-eleven, sticking close together in the Midwest fall—-

“Let’s just get a seat and wait for them, and we can get started. How’s that?”

Flash had removed his hand, and was gesturing now to one of the booth seats near the bar. Not by the windows. Maybe far enough from the windows that anyone who looked in and saw a book light on would just assume management was doing the books late.

(Bruce’s jaw was not tight , it was just his teeth kept pressing down together. He sat down across from the seat Flash gestured to. It was better to get through work quickly, and head home.)

“Okay,” said Flash, suddenly in the booth with him. Bruce almost still felt the breeze of the movement as a book-clipped green folder was produced and laid out on the table. “So, this is a case that’s been going on a little while. Take your time and let me know what you think of it.”

The file was pushed over to Bruce’s side of the table, and he took it quietly, removing the clip and flipping it open.

He disregarded the notes and bios and instead turned first to the photos.

...he did not like looking through other people’s photos. All he could think of was that he would have liked a bit closer look at the doorframe, or just a little bit out of angle, or frustration at someone’s focus being a little bit out. That was why you took lots of photos of course, but it was still a gnawing anxiety in him that they were going to just miss something. All he had were his eyes through someone else’s lense and someone else’s word to take for it.

Which he was very bad at liking.

….but that was just what this was, he guessed. The case was from five years prior. A body of an older woman on the floor of an enclosed porch. Broken glass. Gunshot wound to the left shoulder, close enough to the heart she’d probably been dead within a minute or two, long before the first police officers had arrived. A bullet hole in the wall behind her. Fallen out of her chair. Glass window of the porch had shattered. A bullet had been extracted from the wall, looking like a .22– moderately furnished house with plastic sheeting over the couches. Wicker chairs. An expensive security system had captured what were rendered as stills of the moment the bullets entered the cameras view, and a man a minute or so later on the front door at the other side of the house, running inside, presumably to inspect.

There were other things. They seemed comfortably middle to upper-middle class, from the photos, and finally turning to look at the profiles confirmed it. 68. White. Retired with a moderate stipend. Married thirty years. No priors or connections that Bruce might consider linking to any of the people he knew. Just things like public intoxication, driving violations, a few fines—

Her husband was found with her, and owned the same caliber gun that had broken the glass encasement, shot the woman, and knocked her out of her chair before lodging in the wall. He’d run in from across the street to investigate the gunshot, he said. He denied doing the deed, and circumstantial evidence was not enough to make a conviction on—

...Bruce flipped through the folder again, frowning.

Flash, who had pulled out his phone, looked up. “Something?”

“...what is it you want me to say about this?” It was a neatly put together file. Very neatly. No real loose ends, if everything in it was true. What was he supposed to be catching, here?

“Just, I guess, your thoughts. Anything stand out?” He took the moment to arch his back and stretch his arms out a bit, one hand still holding the phone. Smiled a bit. Friendly.

Bruce frowned while looking at Flash this time.

“This is a test,” he stated, “and I doubt just to see if I’d throw out a name just to be ‘useful.’”

Flash blinked innocently at him, but he was still smiling. “I mean, haha, can’t blame us too much…? You found a lot of trafficking chains, but, I mean—“

“The case has already been closed, and you’re certain of who did it,” said Bruce flatly. He flipped the folder shut and shoved it back across the table. “I’d rather see the scene myself, but if the numbers are right, the bullet hole is too steep an angle for a flat lawn if the husband shot from shoulder height. Someone half his height, or someone kneeling or lying in the grass. He’s old enough to have trouble getting up from that position, much less from the edge of the yard, to run around to the front of the house and avoid grass stains from a new cut lawn. There’s not enough other information to know who might’ve had a motive to make it professional or not.”

…

Flash blinked at him, leaning his elbows on the table to watch. He wasn’t smiling or laughing anymore. Good.

“Yeah,” Flash said. Moved the folder off the table, to the booth seat, out of view. “Some kids were playing with their new .22 in the yard across from the house and accidentally shot her through the window. They confessed a few months ago.”

It was a small enough crime that news wouldn’t have made it to Gotham. Or been widely publicized at all, if ‘kids’ meant they were still minors. That would make them thirteen at most at the time of the shooting—

Bruce wasn’t sure if his throat was full of acid or metal as he said, “Is there anything else for me to look over?”

Flash hesitated a moment (an eternity for him, surely) and said, “Well…”

Bruce stood and made a straight fucking line to the door Dick had been pulled in and not yet emerged. Flash called out, “Hey—!”

….even as the hand fell on his shoulder and tried to pull him back, Bruce had frozen in the doorway.

On the other side, he could only see a bit— the doorframe was too narrow and he dared not step closer—but he could see enough.

He’d wondered, a little bit, why Robin hadn’t emerged when he’d begun speaking. Surely he was loud enough to be heard from the back room. They were only meant to be separated minutes. Just a quick mission. Now, he could see, though—

Dick, sitting on an industrial chest freezer, his legs kicking, not near touching the floor.

He was holding a popsicle. One of the fudge ones. Partly eaten and the top of the stick beginning to show, and Robin didn’t see how it was beginning to drip down over the crinkled plastic wrap, and would soon run over his fingers.

He was busy, looking at Kid Fash. Kid Flash squatting on the floor with a creamsicle, holding it up to the color of his suit, and visibly whining with an orange tongue, a pouting face—

And Robin ignored his own melting ice cream to laugh.

...Flash’s hand tugged on his shoulder again, this time gentle enough that Bruce felt it. He turned with the pressure, and headed back for the booth.

He sat down in it, across from Flash and his already-solved case folder.

“...this was not for case files, was it,” Bruce said, staring at the table between them, feeling very stupid and small.

“I mean,” Flash said, looking almost as embarrassed as Bruce was shamed. “...we did want to know. But… we thought maybe my uh, my cousin could use someone who could relate to him.”

Ah yes. For Kid Flash’s sake. For the boy who they’d never seen publicized before, who was complaining about his outfit color as if he hadn’t chosen it, who didn’t know that in Flash’s ‘occasional empty diner hideout’ he was allowed to run off and eat before being told.

Not for the boy that for the past month Diana’s pitying face had hung over, the boy who had eagerly asked to Superman to stay for dinner, and who Martian Manhunter would deliver sleeves of choco cookies to, even though they had more than enough money to purchase a box for themselves.

...perhaps Bruce should be glad Flash wasn’t the best at lying. Perhaps Bruce was too used to looking for tells, and mistook super speed masking for the truth.

“I see,” was all he said.

When he’d been a child, there had been plenty of others who knew death, and who had never moved him an inch for all their crying. He’d done his best to make that untrue for Dick the past few years, and now they knew each other’s grief inside and out.

Bruce did not know what else to do from there.

It was grief all the way down.

“He’ll need to learn how to counter people who might actually know how to fight speedsters,” he said, watching the table. “There’s pads in the basement, if he’d like to improve sparring with Dick sometimes.”

Flash blinked at him again. Flash sat up straighter, grinning. “Oh?”

“Oh,” Bruce agreed, looking up to scowl. “But for fuck’s sake, bring more than one casefile next time.”

—

On Robin’s anniversary, a gang fight breaks out in the Diamond District.

Something gone wrong. A shootout.

Bruce isn’t sure if it could’ve been called a shootout before the police arrive. By the end of the night, the building is on fire, and a gas vein has blown. Heavy smoke drifting down the street causes a panic, and then a stampede—

He doesn’t want to let Robin out tonight.

On the news, it looks like there are fights breaking out in the stampede. There are people lying down, specks of color on the ground as the helicopter news anchor tries to describe the scene. She’s pure professional. Cold eyes. Clear eyes.

The smoke momentarily engulfs the helicopter, and she begins crying.

He does not want to let Robin out tonight.

He will deal with the outrage in the morning.

—

(On Robin’s anniversary, Harvey Dent sees the fires and hears gunshots from his hospital room. He drags himself and his IV stand away from the bed, towards the window, and fumbles with the latch with ineffective hands. The nurses come with the heart monitor alert. When they sedate him, Harvey is still screaming “Burn it down, burn it down.” )

—

...as often as it happens, Bruce doesn’t think Gotham knows how to deal with tragedy. Wasn’t it common by now? Weren’t they used to it? But as much as the flags should’ve flown half mast and statues been erected, the world stood still— the next morning, school busses take the children to school, and their parents march out to work.

Bruce has a distinct face, but with enough makeup and a red wig, he can seem to be a different person for a while. He can dress himself up as officer and with enough confidence and disdain walk right passed the caution tape and into the crime scene the next morning.

Is it still accurate to call several city blocks a crime scene? Is it a crime scene at all?

There’s caution tape around it. He knows what the words mean in his head. A shape, more than a real definition, with real letters attached— a block of space that has crumbled differently from the world around him. A depression of buildings, some with more tarps laid down than others.

Most of the bodies have been taken to the morgue by now. Not all of them. But most.

Is he going to sneak into the morgue tonight? Is he going to cut open an innocent person who gave no consent to him? To do more than what their family may have agreed to? Will he just steal the coroner’s report and assume they did their jobs properly?

….it is Gotham. He will assume nothing until proven otherwise. Even now it feels like the police are more rattled than usual, like something has actually gone and bitten them and made them pay a bit more attention.

Inside the building where the shootout started, he starts to look for the bullet holes and take pictures. He looks for scorch marks to track towards the origins of the blaze.

He doesn’t find a blown gas vein, no matter how hard he looks.

There was a difference between a storage building and a warehouse. This was a storage building. It had perhaps had a secretary and some organizers. Someone in charge of keeping track of records. There had been unused parts of the building. Bare rooms without much beyond stripped light switches and unpainted walls. One or two empty office spaces, for meetings perhaps. For presentations.

It was on the second floor where he found the lab. What appeared to be the remains of a lab, in any case. It had been shot up through the floors, and the papers had burnt up in the fire. Police hadn’t officially come up this high yet. The stairs didn’t seem stable. Bruce had not specifically used the stairs. As long as no one saw him slip back down, it would be fine.

It seemed as if the lab had not been in use at the time of the shootout. Fortunate. The beakers were broken, but they were all clustered together near the sink, clean, and so presumably had all been put away after any use. There was nothing sitting out that seemed to have been mid-use. He would’ve believed a Bunsen burner might’ve started part of the fire, but there was none of that, either.

...there was one thing. A broken tankard in the corner that had caused most of the damage, to be certain. A high caliber round seemed to have punctured it, either from the floor below or fired from the hall outside. Otherwise, there would’ve been another body up here, or at least the remnants of one. But the sudden decompression seemed to have mostly left just… a badly scattered room and shrapnel damage on the opposing wall.

He was about to move to the next room when he noticed the faint texture inside the tank and a matching sort of stain on the ceiling above.

...he moved closer to the tank, holding his breath and not daring to hope (should he be hoping for something?) and investigated.

A thin layer of green-ish white powder layered the insides of the tankard. An explosive cloud of the stuff must have also flown towards the ceiling and stained it during decompression. He’d assumed it was an oxygen tank. Assumed wrong.

Taking out a few q-tips, he picked up a few wipes and sealed them away in an evidence bag, did another once-over of the room, now trying to double check everything and ignore his ‘assumptions’, but the burnt papers remained largely illegible, and the cleaned lab materials yielded nothing new.

He moved on to the next room, and slipped out quietly from there to check the rest of the street.

—

He arrived back home in different clothes just about the time that Dick (picked up by Alfred) returned home from school.

The kid looks at Bruce as Bruce enters the front room, and a silent but perceptible drone passes between them.

For a moment, Bruce simply looked back, wondering what it was he was supposed to say here.

Eventually, he fumbles in his pockets and pulled out dust-covered q-tips. They’d done this lots of times on the road, hadn’t they? And it had been fun, then. “Want to help identify oddly colored dust?”

Dick lets his head drop back with an open-mouthed groan at the ceiling, but he does come to the garage lab without… any other response than that sound and movement.

...Bruce was not sure what that meant.

—

Who the fuck was rigging exploding nitrous oxide cans to deliver green-dyed powdered LSD?

—

Monday, at the park, he tells the ones who show up they can stay and work in the park as they’ve been doing the last two weeks, or they can come with him to help clean up the areas damaged by the fire.

Most of them, eight out of the ten, peel off to go help with the fire damage. He can’t say he expected that. But they wander out of the park, keeping together in a group, and spend the day with magnet sticks picking up nails and crooked metal and stacking bricks up out of the walkway. They hose down the ashes to stop dust and at Bruce’s insistence, scoop the ashes into garbage bags instead of just washing it all into the sewer.

It gets him some weird looks, but no one is ready to argue with him after only working for two weeks, because these are the ones who stayed for that daily stipend-- there’s not a contract here; these ten are the ones who hate this work less than anything else they might’ve had available, so they break out two flat shovels and bag things up, wearing cotton masks to avoid inhalation. Bruce trots back to the park to get the truck and pick up all those bags for disposal.

He’s prepared for the ones they left behind to have skipped out early, unsupervised, but as he rounds the (now lower) hedges to look at their base of operations he finds… they actually have acquired an extra person.

No, the shovels aren’t moving and the hedges don’t look that different from what they’d been like this morning, but that’s still not abandoning a position. And instead they have some soda cans from the nearby vending machine, and are leaning on a termite-eaten picnic table, talking with rapt interest to Dick Grayson.

Bruce paused to take it in a second time. Dick certainly clocked him coming into view even though the kid didn’t turn to look his direction. Dick was still there, though, sitting on the other side of the picnic table with a fizzy orange juice and his legs crossed under himself. It wasn’t Bruce’s day to pick him up, Bruce was certain, and yet he had a moment where he had to think of it again to make sure, and checked his phone, and his pocket schedule. But his instinct was right, and it was indeed Alfred’s day to pick Dick up from school while Bruce worked here in the park--

He started to walk over just as Dick turned and raised a hand in greeting, letting the recruits cue into his presence before he was close enough to startle them. And yet, they were still startled enough to look at their shovels and very obviously say “shit,” even when Bruce was still too far away to actually hear it. Then, one seemed to realize they had cursed in front of a tween, said “shit” again, and smacked themselves on the forehead.

Dick’s nose wrinkled up as he smiled. Bruce couldn’t hear it, but he knew it was a laughter snort.

(He did not acknowledge his jaw untensing as he walked up to Dick who was smiling and sociable again.)

He came over intending to smile and say words and have a nice conversation, and… then he was close enough and realized he didn’t know what to say. Did he tell them not to corrupt Dick? Would they take that as him implying they were poisonous to others? Would Dick take that as him being protective and spoil the mild good mood? If he told them to take the rest of the day off since clearly things weren’t going to happen, was that dismissal? Or was that chasing them off? Would it be a threat to their paycheck, even though he intended to pay the day’s wages fair as always?

Things seemed to be going almost well lately. The park was slowly being cleaned and Dick was in better spirits than he’d been for two days since the anniversary--

“Oh, he stalled out, don’t worry about it.”

It is not embarrassment, but Bruce does snap out of his train of thought and back into the present. “Sorry,” he says, and looks to the two grown men in their baggy jackets and laced up work boots and secondhand hats. “We’re just finishing cleaning up some of the ash. If you come help move the last bit, we’ll all call it a day.”

As they got up and started shuffling away from the picnic table, Bruce did glance at Dick, and after a moment of still confusion, say, “Coming?”

...the expression Dick gives him was not a smile. But he did come.

They throw the garbage bags in the back of the trunk, and pack it largely to the brim. Surreptitiously, before Dick can climb into the passenger seat, Bruce digs out a simple dust mask and hands it to him. With barely a second look, Dick puts it on and rolls down the window before settling in. It’s smooth, and no one asks questions or looks much askance, because he and Dick are good by now at not announcing something is happening that is different than normal to the world at large.

(And Dick has become very good at seeing through that with Bruce, but Bruce is… starting to wonder if perhaps, he has taught Dick too well to hide anything that would draw attention that something was wrong. Like a wounded animal could run on a broken leg, or a predator bleed from the mouth, and neither would ever make a peep.)

They drove the bags of ashes home to hide behind the house’s perimeter walls, and Bruce tried to explain. The dust, and the huge plume of heat and smoke that could’ve blown even heavy particles down the street, and the sort of cues that psychedelics took from the state you were in. How most people probably wouldn’t exactly get a good trip, surrounded by gunfire and smoke. And maybe there was something else he missed, in the ash, unsafe for casual disposal, how he wasn’t certain he hadn’t missed something--

Dick laid his head back on the car seat, sighing through his mask, and Bruce stopped his mumbling.

Glanced over.

“...maybe I can… arrange for Flash to take a look, if you want to come along,” he offered as they pulled onto their street.

Dick sat up a little straighter, a little light in his eyes.

...he wondered, maybe unkindly (but mostly tiredly), if Dick would rather move in with the Flash and his sidekick. He didn’t have any real evidence for this. Kids did tend to be fairly excited to see friends around their own age, and just because someone might enjoy a trip to a festival didn’t mean they wanted to live in one.

...yet, Dick probably would’ve been quite happy, adopted into a renaissance fair circuit.

Maybe it wasn’t that Dick needed more friends. Maybe the issue was Bruce.

But it’s too late to change that now, isn’t it? Dick drew his line in the sand in front of the Justice League, and Bruce had given him too many secrets to have to keep, and there was nowhere else to go.

—

Bruce goes to Gotham Academy early. Very early. Two hours before pickup is meant to be.

Dick has gotten into a fight.

The parents of the other kid are already there when Bruce arrives and is shown to the principal’s office (it is in the same place it has been since Bruce went here) and ushered inside to the sound of anger and snapping threats.

The office is wood, with a centered carpet and a large mahogany desk at the center, and surrounded by three adults and two children, one of them his.

Dick doesn’t have a scratch on him, unless you count a faint bruise starting to show on his knuckles. The other boy, who is bigger and taller in every way, has a tissue up to his nose and an ice pack on his ear, and is simultaneously shielded and towered over by his two parents, neither of whom have stopped arguing with the principal since Bruce arrived.

He barely gets a chance to get to Dick’s chair by the wall when he is also pulled into the argument by a “Is this little heathen yours, Mister Malone?” from the mother.

Things are not going to improve from there, he’s pretty sure.

“What’s going on?” he asks the principal instead, who is a balding white man with age spots on his face and horn-rimmed glasses on his nose.

“ Master Richard here has assaulted Master Reynolds--” the principal begins.

“--and we will be pressing charges if adequate disciplinary action is not taken,” says the father.

“But what actually happened,” Bruce says, and somehow the noise gets louder in the room. Not the physical noise of three or four people talking at once, but also the hot dissent from Dick in his corner, the hidden bloodied fear of the boy he attacked, the principal patting the desk with his hands over and over, trying to call attention back to himself. Fluorescent lights bright as static. Itchy polyester fake turkish carpets even though his shoes. The room is small and red-orange with wood stained to look like cherry, yellow copper accents on the studs of cushions and trophies and the frames of portraits and certificates hung on the clustered walls--

Dick is suspended three weeks.

Dick is curled in the front seat of the car, furious that Bruce didn’t defend him enough and fight back, and get his sentence reduced or vetoed entirely. His body is balled up tight enough he’s no bigger than he was at eight, curled around the seatbelt in a haze of fury.

“He was picking on people ,” Dick says in a way Bruce knows means Dick had seen it before, but this time it had crossed a line. “ He should be suspended.”

‘He’ is getting two stitches and a formal apology written (ostensibly) by Dick. Dick will not be the one writing it, even if it’s his name at the bottom. ‘He’ will be in school, not in trouble for bullying but now with free reign to his targets without Dick to stand in the way. If Dick was even in the way before at all. If being in the way without being physical meant anything in this case.

“You’ll just have to be more subtle about it,” Bruce says, trying to be encouraging. Because Dick didn’t do anything wrong to step in. Maybe it didn’t deserve a bloody nose, maybe it could’ve been handled some other way, but he still hasn’t been able to wrangle the exact story out of anyone but he is certain that--

Dick goes “RRR” and kicks the windshield hard enough that Bruce startles and slams on the breaks.

Their seatbelts jerk tight and a car horn behind them blares.

...there is the faintest tap on their bumper, but Bruce is already speeding the car forward again, heart pounding too hard to stop.

There’s not even a scratch when they get out at their house later.

He goes to Dick’s bedside in the evening. Dick’s lying on top of his covers with the lights turned off in a darkening room, staring at the wall opposite the door. There was music playing before, but the CD player turned off as soon as Bruce turned the door handle.

He sits by Dick’s bedside and asks if he’d like to go out for the evening.

Dick agrees, but there isn’t much laughter that night, except the sort Robin scares people with.

The mood is still there the next morning.

It is Superman’s turn to check in. Apparently.

The visit is unscheduled (and probably because of Dick’s suspension) and today involves casserole, which Bruce is primed automatically to dislike.

"Yes?" Bruce says upon seeing big blue and buoyant in their kitchen, hovering over the kitchen island with a glass dish covered in aluminium and Alfred looking over a handwritten paper beside him.

"Oh, hey, good morning there," Superman says, as if he's surprised to see Bruce here when there was no other person for him to be there to see . "I was just dropping off the casserole recipe Alfred wanted to try."

…one of the only people for him to be here to see. But Bruce still doubted a casserole was a real reason for a whole visit. So Bruce tries again. "Did you need something?"

Alfred looks up from the paper with a frown and without a word starts shooing them out of the cooking space if they're going to be talking business. "I dunno. Was there something you needed to talk about?"

They make it to the couches of the living room, though neither of them sit down.

"No," says Bruce.

"Alright then," says Superman, who Bruce is learning is an asshole. "I heard some stuff happened with Dick at school?"

Which is entirely unsubtle and a very clear sign that Superman is not leaving until Bruce asks some sort of question or resolves whatever this is.

So fine. Bruce hasn't even had some fucking coffee yet. He'll ask a question. "What would you do if your child, who is aware that at nightime they can go out and punch abusers and rapists, during the daytime attempted to defend an underclassman, and as a result are threatened with criminal action or suspension while you are trying to lie low and causing a big fuss about it and fighting the decision will do the exact opposite of laying low, severely limiting their freedom regardless of if we win."

Like a coward, Superman's expression says he had been thinking of Dick as a kid who was not Dick , and sheepishly says, "I guess, what would your parents do?"

Bruce thinks he feels it this time. The expression on his face turning colder. He feels it the same way Dick can always see the change. "I wouldn't know that, now, would I?"

...this was why he left in the first place, wasn't it. This eternal loop of days upon days surrounded by people who just forgot or never could let him forget. It's been easier as an adult, almost-- it's normal now for people's parents to be dead. It's normal to not have people ask after them like limbs they can't see have detached. Even if Superman doesn't know his old name, doesn't know that stupid story about a boy billionaire and his rich family, its jarring to realize that even the most alien being on earth just assumes--

--well, of course. He would know all humans have parents.

But the bite in Bruce's voice is cold enough, and the way Alfred's slight shuffling in the kitchen goes quiet, it's enough to get through apparently-- Superman's head is ducked down embarrassed and he says, "right, sorry," because perhaps Bruce returning to Gotham to the fucking Wayne Butler's House should've been enough reason to realize he didn't have any family left of his own. "The person who raised you…"

"Nothing they said," Bruce interrupts, "has ever done anything about this."

…

Maybe he's angry. He hasn't had any coffee yet. But he turns to end this conversation and walk out to the garden, and hears Alfred's sigh from the kitchen.

But he's telling the truth.

Even if Alfred had found something new to say in the years since Bruce tried to bite his therapist's face off, if he's tried to say it to Dick, it clearly hasn't been working.

There is a thing like a piston beating up against his head. A hammering rhythmically at the front of his skull. One thing, then another, then another, then another, and when he wakes up the next morning to one more ring there will still be all the ones behind him, echoing through the halls still unresolved.

He wasn’t made to live like this. How was anyone made to live like this? One thing after another and another and when he wakes up in the morning there are still more banal, useless things to do in a world that eats up and eats up and eats up--

How does the grocery store clerk wake up each morning? How does she go to bed at night knowing the same thing will happen the next day, but worse, and more tired, and less pay, over and over, for eternity.

#batman #dick grayson #bruce wayne #robin #fanfic #roadtrip vigilantes

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damn-stark · 4 years

Text

Blinded ch.13

A/N- Ayye it’s up!! So their is going to be a time jump from the time we left off in the last chapter to this chapter! I’ll add flashback scenes here and there throughout the future chapters of stuff that happened in between the jump!! So that does mean that we are officially in TFA!! Hope you guys like this chapter :)

Warning- Mentions of violence and torture, angst, fluff

Pairing- Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader

Takes place during- The Force Awakens

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

—

“So y/n, has Poe asked you the big question yet?” You heard Jess ask over the comms, you furrowed your eyebrows at her sudden question but let out a small huff that was meant as a laugh.

“Really Jess? how old are we? Teenagers again?” Karé asked in an annoyed way at Jessika’s question. Karé knew Jessika meant well but that subject was supposed to be off topic for you as Snap had told her a secret that Poe had confided him in; and if Poe or snap found out that Jessika knew because of her then she knew she’d be in trouble. Karé was grateful that you all were in X-Wings and not face to face because she knew that you would catch on to the slight worry on her face.

“No he hasn’t...we’ve only been dating for a year and a half Jess I don’t think he’s going to ask anytime soon...why? has he said anything?” You asked now extremely curious. The thought of him asking hadn’t popped into your head before not because you didn’t want to think of it or because it wasn’t something you didn’t want, but it was just something that you genuinely haven’t thought of. You knew that Poe was special to you and he has grown to be more special after the year you’ve dated— you couldn’t lie to yourself that you haven’t once or twice thought of your future together but you haven’t thought of him asking you to be anything more than his girlfriend anytime soon. And now that Jessika brought it up the thought crept onto your mind.

The other end had gone quiet for a while before Jessika spoke up again. “But if he asked would you say yes?” You went quiet as if you were thinking about the answer even if in your head you had immediately answered it without question.

“I mean...yeah I would.” Your curiosity only grew at her sudden need to ask that question and as you were about to press Jessika further Suralinda talked over the comms changing the subject.

“You know I like this all women mission, why haven't we done it before? I think we work better than when we have the boys along.” You all laugh at her comment making Suralinda go on about how it would be better without Poe or Snap.

You were about to voice your opinion when you suddenly felt a sudden pain in your chest that made you zone out making the stars disappear and a black view to take over, the voices of Jessika, Karé and Suralinda to disappear into the background. The pain radiated throughout your whole body, you held onto the stirring wheel of your x-wing firmly. If you hadn’t been sitting you would've fallen down for sure. Their was then clear sudden flashes that played in your mind. You could hear their agonizing screams that made your heart hurt even more. The image of who it was in pain wasn’t clear at first not until you really saw who it was. Poe.

You were desperate to see more into what was going on but all you saw was a dark figure looming over him like a shadow. It was...Ben..Kylo. And then just like it how it had started it was over, making you see nothing more but the view of the stars.

Without much thought and even if the girl’s called out to you, you ignored them out of the haze you had seemed to be in making a beeline for the briefing room where you knew your mother would be. Eyes immediately turned to you at your sudden and quick entrance. You ignored the questioning stares and looked around until you spotted your mother.

Her eyes were already on you since she had sensed your worried presence enter the room. She stands up straight and waits for you to approach her.

“Y/N what’s wrong?” She asks. You look at her and it had seemed like you were unable to speak, you look around the room to try and find the words but you were now speechless..or trying to hide what you had seen happening to Poe and who you had seen hurting him. “Y/N?”

“Mom it’s-”

“I’m sorry to interrupt but we just got word that the Jakku village has been wiped out, I’m sorry your highness—highness's, their was no sign of the map anywhere.” A young officer named Brance interjected making you let out a deep sigh at the news.

“If they get to Luke first we haven’t got a chance—What about Poe?” Your mother questioned making the man look at you briefly as if afraid to answer the question.

“They found his X-wing destroyed, blaster marks indicated it was the first order.”

“What about BB8?” You asked making Brance nervously look at you again.

“He wasn’t recovered.”

“Never underestimate a droid.” Your mother commented before moving on making you quickly follow behind her.

From the corner of your eye you see Snap approaching you, when he’s by your side you greet him with a small smile. “General should we contact the Republic?” Snap asked.

“You have to be smarter then that. Find BB8 immediately our future may depend on it.” Your mother said directing her last comment to C3PO.

She walked in a rush but neither Snap or you staying behind. “What about Poe?” Both Snap and you asked at the same time.

“He’s in trouble and I know where he is let me go get him.”

“I’ll go with you too.” Snap added.

“We can’t.” At your mothers comment you square your shoulders and your frown deepens. “Look I love Poe and I know you do too honey but we can’t risk you both going to rescue him.”

“Then I’ll go alone.” You interrupted making her stop and turn to you making you almost bump into her at her sudden halt.

“Look Y/N, I can’t have you risking your life and we both know Poe wouldn’t want you to do it either.”

“No I can’t just sit here doing nothing not while he’s there! Not while HE has him! You know exactly what he’ll do to Poe...I can’t let that happen—I can’t lose him.” You didn’t mean to raise your voice at your mom but you couldn’t help it. You were to emotional at the thought of him being tortured by...your brother.

A brother that you’ve promised to help but haven’t been able to since he’s shut you out. Every time you tried to reach him through the force you saw nothing or felt nothing, he had shut you out completely. You shouldn’t have been surprised given that when you last spoke to him you tried to bring him with you; and if Snoke had felt the same thing you felt within him that day then you knew it didn’t go well. Even if he had shut you out, you still had hope you still wanted to help...but now...now that he had Poe you were beginning to think differently.

“I know honey but I can’t lose you. Or any other pilots. We have to hope he’ll make it out alive..you know how he is.” She placed her hand on your shoulder to try and comfort you but it didn’t help. You blinked repeatedly to try and blink away the tears that threatened to fall. “Don’t let any unauthorized fighters depart from any hanger.” Your mom ordered before leaving the room and your conversation that way it was.

You felt Snap place a hand on your shoulder to try and bring you comfort you and even if you were grateful for his attempt it didn’t work. “I’ll be okay.” You lied before leaving the room to go be on your own.

Once you make it in your room you sit on your bed and drop your head into your hands and let the tears flow down. They were tears of sadness and frustration for your brother who knew what Poe meant to you but still hurt him....then again this shouldn’t be a surprise he’s “Kylo Ren”, and Kylo Ren didn’t care for Y/N Solo or what Poe Dameron meant to you.

Ben Solo would care....for your feelings at least.

So in a moment of desperation you thought of the only thing you could do..you closed your eyes and cleared your mind only focusing on Ben, of reaching Ben through the force. You call out to him and wait and wait but are met by nothing. Again. You run your hands through your hair and try again but once again theirs nothing. You open your eyes and let out a shaky breath before you force throw the desk in your room out of frustration. You drop your head in your hands again and let the tears stain your face.

“Okay now open your eyes.”

You follow Poe’s instructions and open your eyes to see blankets spread on the ground for the sole purpose to star gaze; In the center their was a small stereo playing soft music and to the sides he had placed snacks. A happy smile grows on your face before you jump on him to wrap him in a tight hug. He chuckles before he hugs you tighter.

“Who knew you could he so sappy commander?” You teased as you both pulled away to sit on the blanket.

“Only the girl who I love knows.” He said with a grin making you roll your eyes. “I thought you deserved it after coming back from your difficult mission with your dad, also because it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.”

“Mission? Pssh. Poe helping him smuggle is not a mission.” You say with a laugh. After your encounter with your dad when you went to go thank him and apologize him for it only ending with an attack, it not really surprisingly had left with all of you fine and making you return to base. That encounter still didn’t stop you from going to find him and visit or do runs with him every here and there when you could. You actually enjoyed doing those runs with him and you knew chewie and your dad liked your company “Don’t worry I always put a good word in for you.”

“So does that mean he likes me or do I need to watch my back when we meet?” Poe asks with an amused grin but you knew he was actually being serious as he was nervous at the thought of meeting your father. Especially after the stories you’ve told him and also knowing how much you care for him.

“Watch your back especially from Chewbacca.” You tell him with a serious demeanor to try and scare him but you break and smile. You move over to him and sit on his lip whilst wrapping both arms around his shoulders with a wider smile only making him look at you in admiration.

“What would you do if I never came back?” You suddenly asked making his smile falter. “Because I know if you never came back from a mission I’d be a mess.”

He wrapped both of his arms around your waist and held you firmly closer to him. “I’ll always get back to you. Always. I’ll never leave you alone.” You felt your eyes get watery but you bite the bottom of your lips so the tears wouldn’t fall. “I love you.” He said minutes later making your heart race in your chest. It had been months since you’ve been together and those words still made you feel all types of way.

“I know.” You say as you place a light kiss on his lips while you ran your fingers through his curls.

“I truly deeply love you, Y/N Solo. I know it’s been a couple months but no one makes me feel or has made me feel the same way I feel for you.” You search his eyes as if thinking this was some sort of joke but when you saw he was being truly sincere is when you kiss him deeply and with passion. Your lips part but you keep your forehead pressed on his.

“I truly deeply love you, Poe Dameron. And I will love you until every star on this damned beautiful galaxy dies.”

“Now who’s gotten sappy on who huh?” He jokes making you roll your eyes. “Until every star on this damned beautiful galaxy dies.” He repeats.

The sudden dip on your bed made you jump awake. You sat up quickly, you turned quickly to see..Poe.

He looks at you and smiles, it takes you a minute to register his presence leaving you speechless.

“Hey baby...” his voice was low and soft but it was the type of tone that made your heart flutter, “leave you speechless? Not surprised, I always do.” He teased making you laugh quietly before you wrapped him in a hug. Silent but happy tears rolled down your cheeks as you tightened your embrace not believing he was here or like If you didn’t hold on he would just vanish at any minute.

He groaned as a response as you accidentally pressed onto his injuries he had acquired while his time in captivity. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You say as you pull away far enough to cup his cheeks. He cups your cheek with his hand and begins to caress it gently. “How did you get out? When did you get back? Poe...” He laughed lightly at your questions before he interrupted your rambling by placing a light kiss on your lips.

“Just got back and I managed to get myself out...I used my charm, you know how I am.” his last words were a lie but it was just something he said to joke with you, to ease your worry.

“I saw you, I felt your pain...Poe....” more tears fell down your cheeks but he quickly wiped them away.

“Baby I’m here, I’m fine, okay? Don’t worry anymore I’m fine.” He assured you in a soothing tone, one he always knew to use when you were upset or in this case worried, he always knew what to do to calm you down. He placed another gentle kiss on your lips before he placed one on your forehead. “Go back to sleep, I didn’t mean to wake you up” you hesitated all you wanted to do now was talk to him, make sure he was actually fine.

Their had been missions where he went without communicating back or where he wasn’t at base for long periods of time; and you had grown used to that and since the time you’ve been dating you excepted these actions from him. Since you knew their was times he couldn’t check back in but this one was different. This time you had actually seen briefly what he went through only making your worry increase tenfold.

“Go to sleep I’ll be here when you wake up.” He said again making you lay back down, he also layed down and wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you close to him. He stroked your hair gently with his other hand, lulling you back to sleep.

Your eyes flew open and you inhaled sharply, you hazily pressed your hand on the spot where Poe slept but you were met with a cold and empty spot, you quickly shifted in bed looked around and saw that their was no indication that he was actually here. You sat up and saw that his clothes weren’t scattered on the floor just like they were every time the exhaustion was getting to him and all he wanted to do was sleep. This time their was no sign of his return...it was all just a dream. A cruel dream.

You put your head in your hands and thought to yourself. I can’t leave him, he can’t die, I won’t let him kill you.....Not you too.

You quickly got up from bed knowing that you wouldn’t fall back to sleep. You were surprised you actually did. You quickly got up and left your quarters with a mission in mind..rescue Poe. He would do the same for you.

His mission was supposed to be a quick mission. Just get the missing map and leave without a problem. You knew that you should’ve gone with him but your mom wanted you and the girls to go to another quick mission and she thought that only one resistance fighter would be good to collect the missing map as to not catch the wrong attention. But as it turns out the wrong attention had been there either way.

Your heart hurt you didn’t want to think of the worst but your mind immediately wondered to it. You feared the possibility of what could happen and it was killing you that you couldn’t just appear where he was to rescue him. You couldn’t just wait anymore you already waited too long. So you made your way to your x-wing discreetly without being detected much to your surprise.

As you were beginning to climb onto your X-wing you were stopped, you groaned quietly at the fact that you had been caught. “Y/N wait.”, You swallow thickly as you turn to face the voice who had called out to you.

Please don’t let it be mom. You thought before you completely turned to see the person or rather people.

“Snap, Jessika, Karé I...I have to go...he would if I was in his situation. So I’m sorry but neither of you will stop me.”

Jessika smiled as she placed a hand on her hip. “Who said we were stopping you? He’s our friend and he’s our Black leader we’re going with you and you won’t stop us from coming along.” You shot them a smile while they all nodded their head in agreement.

“Okay then I won’t stop any of you. Let’s get going.” You said as you hop onto your X-wing.

Without a faltering second you heard an officer come through your comm telling you that you weren’t allowed to leave. You of course ignored them and closed the comm to create a private one with black squadron.

“You all ready?” You asked all of them with a hopeful smile on your face.

“Yes, we better get going before your mom comes and pulls you out of the X-wing.” Jessika joked making you let out a small laugh.

“Wait! Solo, we have an incoming unauthorized craft.” You heard snap urgently say through the comms. You sighed deeply and your smile disappeared at the interruption. You look out the cockpit window to see a large freighter approaching. You quickly punched a few buttons and had access to their comms.

“Be ready to shoot when I give the signal, we have an advantage.” You tell black squadron first through the comms before communicating with the unknown freighter. “Come in unknown freighter and identify yourself before we are forced to take action.” You command urgently through the comms.

You really didn’t want to deal with this right now, all you wanted to do was take off with black squadron and go find Poe and BB8. Your patience was running thin as the comms stayed silent.

“Nothing. Should we get ready to shoot it down?” Kere asked.

“This is unknown freighter coming in don’t shoot——clear”, the unidentified came through the with static making it hard to hear but the voice sounded familiar.

“Don’t shoot. Not yet it looks like our friend found a clear patch to land let’s go say hi.” You say as you and black squadron get off your X-wings and rush to where the freighter had just landed.

The four of you quickly took out your Blasters and aimed it at the opening freighter doors. Once the ramp door hit the ground you approached it slowly. All four of you looked at each other telling one another to get ready for anything. When you finally saw an outline of a figure emerge from within that’s when you got closer. You squared your shoulders and your lips were formed in a straight line.

You narrowed your look on the approaching figure until you saw the sight of familiar pair of brown eyes. You slowly dropped your arm to your side until you dropped your blaster and rushed to Poe Dameron. He rushed to you too meeting each other in a tight embrace. He lifted you off your feet as you buried your head into the crook of his neck. “Miss me?” He asked as he put you down. You found no words to say, all of sudden getting speechless. So all you managed to do was smile. You ran your hands through his curls fully taking in his presence. Your smile faltered as you saw the bruises and cuts on his face. He placed his hand on your cheek and caressed it as he saw the worry spilled all over your features.

Before you could ask about the bruises and cuts that were on his face he pulled you in for a passionate kiss. You were quick to kiss him back but before he could take it any further you pulled away knowing of the wandering stares from Black squadron and other fighters. You stepped to the side and let the others greet him.

You walk around the Med Bay and collect all you need to clean Poe’s wounds. Ever since Poe had came back you had been quiet only speaking here and there. You were so lost in your own worry and doubts...self guilt. You knew it wasn’t your fault that Poe had gotten tortured but it was your brother who had hurt him. Your own brother. And ever since you had seen that in the vision you began to have second thoughts on helping him; and second thoughts on if he wasn’t too blinded by the darkness to bring him back.

Those thoughts only surfaced because you knew that your brother knew what Poe meant to you he had even said so himself at Jaskar. And even if he knew, he was going to kill Poe for the information he held. Your brother knew and he didn’t care..so much for promising that he would hurt you...then again that promise was broken years ago—but he was your brother...twin brother, and you still held hope for him even after what he had done, and you couldn’t break the promise even he had.

“Hey Y/N what’s wrong? You’ve been quiet ever since I got back.” The feeling of Poe’s hand on yours made you jump slightly and slip away from your thoughts.

“Sorry it’s just...” He didn’t need to worry about your thoughts so you just pressed your lips together and nodded your head. “Just forget it okay?...I’m just happy you’re back.” You begin to clean the wounds on the sides of his forehead and stood quiet but you still could feel his eyes on you. You only felt your heart getting heavier as you kept cleaning the wounds on the sides of his forehead, you knew well what had done it.

“Babe talk to me.” He took your hand in his before you could dab alcohol on his wounds again. Your eyes flickered to his and you saw the worry he had for you. You sighed and moved your eyes to look towards the ground before looking back at him.

“I saw you...I saw you getting hurt...I felt it. It didn’t last long but I did....I saw who did it and I’m sorry.” You bit the bottom of your lip as you felt tears begin to sting your eyes. “I’m sorry Poe.”

“It wasn’t your fault—”

“But he’s my brother, he’s the one that hurt you. What he did was painful I know that...I know what he did and I know it hurt you and I’m sorry you had to go through that.” You interrupted turning your head down so he wouldn’t see the tear that you failed to hold in. “I don’t know what I would've done if he had killed you.” You said in a low voice.

Not him too.

Poe cupped your cheek and turned your head to make you look at him. “You aren’t responsible for your brothers actions. You didn’t hurt me, it’s not your fault..so don’t blame yourself okay? Please.” You nodded your head to agree with him even if a part of you still blamed yourself.

After you finished cleaning his wounds in a comfortable silence you finally asked the important question. “So how was it that you escaped the first order? Because I know it wasn’t because of my brothers generosity.”

He let out a silent chuckle as he hopped off the Med Bay bed. “Interesting story actually, it was a stormtrooper.” He said making you quirk your eyebrow. “At first I thought it was the resistance—”

“I was actually on my way before you got here.” You interjected making him look at you with grin, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you made your way out of the Med bay.

“I know you were; anyway as I was saying I thought it was the resistance but when he took off his helmet he was actually a stormtrooper getting me out because he also wanted to leave.” Poe continued with his crazy story of his escape that involved an ex-stormtrooper.

It was entertaining lisenting to him say the story but also upsetting as he didn’t know where the trooper had ended up after the crash. You kept lisenting to Poe’s adventure after the escape until he got interrupted by an officer who looked like he had been running for hours at how red his face was.

“Commander Dameron, Princess. They’ve found BB8. General Organa wants you to leave right away.”

Poe and you looked at one another sharing an unspoken conversation before Poe turned to the officer to ask him a question “Where?”

“In Takodana.”

Tagged- @treblebeth , @mcrvellouslystcrk , @themythicallifeofesmerelda , @thescarletknight2014 , @sfnari , @bitch-imma-head-out , @arsonistvoyager , @chloe-skywalker , @emotionalcal , @theholycakehole , @justxriot , @stvrdustalexx , @the-dream-catch3r , @theoralpha , @sleepyblossom , @basically-hayley , @iamaunicorn4704 , @sneekygeek , @carisiswaistcoat , @creativelyquestioninglife , @daniellajocelyn , @wnygirl2012 , @imjusttryingtocatchavibe , @holy-kylo-stars , @patdsinner33 , @avmps

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self-proclaimed-chaotic-good · 4 years

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Survivors of Unfair Choices (12) | FirstOrder!Poe Dameron x Reader

Words: 1742

Warning: SW-verse typical violence, minor swearing

A/N: I’ve finally caught up in writing this series. Thank you for your patience. I had other things to say for this section but this whole queuing thing has been giving me a hard time and I accidentally deleted this the first time.

Series Masterlist

You led them through the makeshift command center hidden deep among the vines and roots of the greenery, walking in first. Leia stood at the center, her face illuminated by the holoprojector table as she’s surrounded by other Resistance officers. She looks up and smiles at you.

“General Organa, I’m sorry to interrupt,” you said, stepping towards the table before gesturing to your companions, “This is Finn and Poe. They need to talk to you-”

“Oh, I’ve met Poe, of course. And I need to talk to Finn,” Leia said, stepping forward and grabbing Finn’s hand. “That was incredibly brave, what you did. Renouncing the First Order, saving my commander's life-”

Finn was taken aback. “Thank you ma’am,” he said. You gently scooted him closer and encouraged him to continue, “but a friend of ours was taken prisoner-”

Leia nodded. “Han told me about the girl. I’m sorry.”

Finn looked over at Han, surprised that he would have even been concerned by it. Perhaps, he was used to the First Order’s mentality, where being compromised made you a lost cause and they’d sooner abandon you when you’ve lost your worth.

“General, we’re both familiar with the weapon that destroyed the Hosnian system,” Poe stepped in, patting Finn on the shoulder.

Leia hummed. “We’re desperate for anything that you can tell us,” Leia said, drawing the attention towards the two men.

You stepped to the side, standing between Leia and Han. The smuggler gave you a nudge and smirked.

“So the First Order’s poster boy with the curls, huh?” he muttered under his breath.

You jabbed his side with your elbow, feeling like you were in the academy again, talking while the teacher was giving a lecture. Luckily, Leia’s focus was on Finn and Poe. The defectors. The newly recruited members of the Resistance. Your new friend and your new… boyfriend? You caught Poe’s eyes from across the table, causing a small smile to form on both of your lips before he turned his attention back to Finn. Right, there was a war going on right now. At least you were now on the same side of the war. You didn’t know how you’d manage it if you were to face him in battle as enemies after everything that happened, being stranded on that planet with him. Would he still follow orders?

C-3PO inserted the data device from BB-9 into the base computer, projecting a holographic map. Leia walks around the map, studying it closely in case she missed anything, but she hadn’t. Her face fell, knowing that all that effort to retrieve it, the sacrifices made, resulted in an incomplete map.

C-3PO spoke up, only confirming what everyone could see, “General, I regret to inform you, but this map recovered from BB-9 is only partially complete. And even worse, it matches no charted system on record. We simply do not have enough information to locate Master Luke.”

Leia nodded somberly. “I can't believe I was so foolish to think that I could just find Luke and bring him home.”

Han frowned. “Leia…,” he started.

“Don’t do that,” Leia shot out, pointing at him.

“Do what?”

Leia started to head off. “Anything,” she said over her shoulder.

You sighed. Although you were glad to see them talking, you’d prefer it under better circumstances. “We’ll resume the meeting once we receive the reconnaissance report on the enemy base. Then, we’ll discuss how to proceed,” you told everyone.

They all nodded, understanding the situation that the General and Han are in. A few Resistance members that were part of the inner circle came over to welcome you back, knowing that you did your best in retrieving the map. No one knew if the map was retrievable, that it would be simple enough to show exactly where Luke Skywalker was, but there was hope. Although it was incomplete, it was something.

You walked over to your boys who had watched the entire interaction between the couple and you with the other members, your hands held behind your back.

“Are they going to be alright?” Finn asked, looking over to where Han and Leia left.

You nodded. “They just need to talk some things out,” you said, then smiled, “How did it feel to have the attention of the room?”

Finn let out a short laugh. “It was nerve wracking and… exhilarating.”

“First day with the Resistance and you’re already talking amongst the higher-ups,” Poe teased.

“And what about you?” Finn pointed out, “Flying with the Resistance, heading a squadron, and already on speaking terms with General Leia?”

Poe shrugged. “They needed a pilot and their commander was busy stealing the Millenium Falcon with a stormtrooper, a scavenger, and two droids.”

You rolled your eyes. “You are not about to steal my squadron,” you told him.

“I don’t know, (Y/n/n), they seem to like me,” he smirked, “I guess I’m that charming, though, they did threaten to kill me if I hurt you.”

Finn scrunched his nose. “Please stop this, you two. Not sure what I want to be in the middle of, an arguing married couple or a flirty new couple.”

When Han and Leia finished with their talk, you cautiously approached the two, wondering if you were stepping out of bounds. They both turned to you, knowing you had something on your mind. Han pulled out a crate for you to sit across from him before taking a spot next to Leia.

“How are you doing, kid?” Han asked. “Although it’s not a complete map, you did bring back some valuable assets. You did good, kid.”

You forced yourself to smile, thinking about the village that the First Order attacked when they came to retrieve the map. “Can’t save everyone, only save who you can, even if it’s just one person, right?” you said.

Leia reached over and squeezed your hand. “Lor San Tekka is an old and loyal friend of ours. He knew what was at risk when he gave us the map,” she said, “We can’t let his sacrifice go out in vain. We just need to keep going and find something else.”

You nodded, then swallowed. “Um, when the First Order attacked the village… I saw Kylo Ren… Ben. He… do you think… have you ever tried to reach out to him again? Forgive me, I-”

“No, no, I understand where you’re coming from,” Leia assured you.

“It’s just that… I am sure that there is some light within him,” you said, “This doesn’t erase what he’s done, but maybe there’s a way to stop him from straying further down this dark path. I am in no way a jedi or anything. I’m just a regular human who flies X-Wings, but I think one of the reasons why he’s so… angry is the fact that he knows there’s light in him and he thinks it’s a weakness. If you don’t mind me asking, General, what exactly happened that caused this?”

The couple exchanged a tired and sad look. When Leia didn’t speak, Han stepped forward and said, “Sending him away to train with Luke might not have been enough for him to see the light.”

“Surely something must have happened for him to turn to the dark side?” you said.

Leia shook her head. “Luke went into exile after the temple was destroyed. We don’t know exactly what happened.”

“Maybe if we reach him and-”

“Why are you so insistent on this, kid?” Han frowned.

You looked up at him. “I escaped a Star Destroyer with the help of a stormtrooper and a commander of the First Order. I encountered Kylo Ren on that ship and he tried to search my mind for the map and I resisted as much as I could and I thought of you, General. You still have an effect on him. Maybe he’s lost and the only one that had reached him at his most vulnerable point was Snoke.”

Leia squeezed your hand again. “It’s been a while since I’ve tried to reach him and it might take a lot of energy from me,” she said sadly.

“If we could find Luke, is it possible?”

“Maybe.”

Finn had taken his place at the map table, showing a holographic image of the Starkiller base he worked at while surrounded by the inner circle members of the Resistance. You crossed your arms, standing between Poe and Snap.

“The scan data from Snap’s reconnaissance flight confirms Finn’s report,” you said, looking at the wireframe hologram.

Snap nodded. “They've somehow created a hyper lightspeed weapon built within the planet itself,” he added.

“A laser cannon?” Major Brance inquired, crossing his arms.

Snap pursed his lips. “We’re not sure how to describe a weapon of this scale.”

Major Ematt’s eyes widened in horror. “It’s another Death Star,” he gasped.

Poe and Finn exchanged a grave look with Poe shaking his head. “I wish that were the case, Major,” he said.

He nodded over to you, prompting you to press the control. A wireframe of the Death Star appeared on the hologram table. Poe shifted, standing closer to you as he continued with his arms crossed.

“This is the Death Star,” he pointed.

You pressed another control. The image of the Death Star started to shrink and shrink and shrink as the image of the Starkiller Base grew. It made the Death Star seem like a mere moon orbiting a planet. The others began to gasp and whisper. You shook your head, seeing the entire image for the first time. Poe squeezed your hand firmly and it was then you realized how sweaty your palms became.

“This… is the Starkiller Base.”

Han frowned, placing his hands on his hips. It was a lot bigger than expected and it was no secret that hope was draining out of the meeting room the longer they looked at the Starkiller Base. He cleared his throat and shrugged nonchalantly.

“So it’s big,” he said.

Admiral Ackbar stepped forward. “How is it possible to power a weapon of this size?”

“It uses the power of the sun,” Finn answered, “As the weapon is charged, the sun is drained until it disappears.”

An officer rushes over to Leia with a datacard. Leia grabbed it quickly, her eyes scanning through it. The room was quiet as they waited for the news. “The First Order,” she began, “they're charging the weapon again, now… Our system is the next target.”

Taglist: @megzdoodle @psychoticobsession @thescarletknight2014 @marrypuffsstuff @theoralpha @daniellajocelyn @badwolf-212 @gleigh42 @ella-solei @roserrys @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @juliaguliaa

#Survivors of Unfair Choices #First Order!Poe Dameron x Resistance!Reader #First Order!Poe Dameron #poe dameron x reader #Poe Dameron #Star wars imagine

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omgmyships · 3 years

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Okay, so this is an entry for the MC showcase.

I found Our Life: Beginning & always on itch.io a few days ago, and wait until the full release is out to download. I had an-hour trouble to download the game (I downloaded the apk file on my PC then transferred it to my phone), but I succeeded. The game took a few short minutes to load (it's okay tho), then I read the tutorial and designed my MC.

Okay, I love this game. The art is cute, Cove is cute, and my MC is cute too =3

First of all, my MC - Jamie Last (I always keep default names) - is a boy, and use he/him pronounce.

My MC has black hair and brown eyes (although I prefer dark brown hair, I think black is cute. Brown color in the game is a bit bright for me)

He has oval face, his skin tone is peach, his eyes are round, and he has that romantic hairstyle.

To be honest I had to atruggle with my mind for 10 mins to choose the beat hairstyle for my MC from those very cute one. In the end I chose Side 2. And nah, Jamie doesn't need hair back.

And he has Rosy Cheeks!!!! OMG HE IS SOOOOO CUUUUUUTE!!!!!!!!

Jamie only wears trousers and shirts (tho he may wear dresses if someone trick him to wear-)

He wears his favorite black watch and white hat everyday, and sometimes he wears necklaces (he thinks they are cool). He doesn't mind wearing bracelets, but he prefers not to.

Jamie has a scar on his right leg from his childhood. While he was playing with Cove, he tripped over a rock and fell down, his leg accidentally hit a sharp brance next to the rock. Luckily it was nothing too serious. After bleeding for a while, the wound left a scar on his smooth skin (=(().

Okay, that's enough for my MC's appearance.

For me, when Jamie was young, he was energetic boy with a kind heart. When he grew up he is more quiet, but he still talks a lot, just not as energetic as when he was just a child).

Jamie loves playing with friends, reading books every afternoon and learning new things.

He's good with singing.

He is lazy. Yep. But he often helps his moms with housework, and always finishes his assignments before deadlines d=

Jamie has good organization skill when it comes to teamwork. No kidding guys, he always knows what to do.

He is loyal to his friends and his loved ones.

- Jamie and Cove's relationship -

They were childhood friends. Jamie didn't take his father's money, he wanted to befriend with Cove, and treat him with honesty. For him, Cove's an interesting kid. He wanted to know more about him. Jamie's generous, he ready to share with Cove whatever his friend likes. BFF 🤧👌

He developed feeling for Cove when he's 16 (an ideal age👌).

They became lovers in the end.

Childhood/Best friends -> Lovers ❤

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This game is one of my most favorite games EVER, one of the best things in 2020 🤧

I LOVE the characters, especially Cove, he is freaking CUTE OMG. The art is awesome.

I LOVE the gameplay, I can see that the progress of making this game was extremely complicated.

I LOVE the soundtrack (and the voices). What could be more fun when we listening to something while playing?

I love everything of this game =3

This game has made my days ever since it came out 🤧

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@gb-patch

#englishvisualnovel #our life #gb patch #mc showcase

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opheliamblackwood · 6 years

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Refraction: Chapter 2: A Danger to Your Health

I'm dreaming of mom again. It's the same dream over and over again. It's always the same dream. She’s always reaching for me and as I reach for her, I can see her screaming, but I never hear it. I watch her skin and muscle melt away from her body until all I can see is half of her face masked in horror and her bony fingers reaching for me. I see the mushroom cloud go off in the distance and can feel the heat of the shock wave on my face. At first, it feels like the Sun and then it starts to boil my skin until blisters form. That isn’t possible for me now that I know that I can’t be harmed by the radiation, only fueled by it.

I don’t know what kinds of things I might be able to do. I know that one of the effects of the Radiation on those of us positively affected by it, is an unnaturally long life. It will take us a lot longer to die. Our life span is practically doubled and we don’t really get old. We age, but we don’t show it. Some of us have more mental abilities and some of us have physical abilities. There is extra strength, heightened senses on grand scale. Things like hearing farther than normal humans can, being able to lift a phenomenal amount. We never get sick, we never age, but we can die.

This girl I grew up with, Charlotte, found out she was a Nukie and lost her damn mind. She had telekinesis and it was heavily connected to her mood. As you can imagine, she was freaking out knowing that she was one of us and this made her telekinesis go haywire. She started throwing everything around her, including people. A lot of people got hurt and she moved a heavy machine that got slammed into her little brother who died from the impact. The only way to get her to stop was to knock her out which the Feds did. They took her away and no one has ever seen her again. Her poor family was left to pick up the pieces, losing both of their children. Her dad committed suicide a week later and her mom got really sick and eventually passed away a few months after that. It’s what Nukies like us risk to lose. It’s important to stay very calm until you can get a reign on whatever ability it is that you have.

I think about all of this as I go to work. I’m hoping to find something that will help me figure myself out. They’ve been running all sorts of tests on various Nukies. They tend to leave those of us that are Nukies and Engineers alone, seeing as how they need us. So, they test on other Nukies instead. Mainly, we test out their powers in a safe, controlled environment, draw their blood and try to replicate whatever genetic mutations caused from the radiation exposure on Non-Nukies. Nothing has worked so far. We can’t create Nukies. Therefor, we can’t un-create Nukies. So, there’s a strong chance I’ll be like this forever.

There’s a girl I work with, Bria. I knew her back in college. We had a lot of the same classes together and we’ve become good friends over the past few years. Especially since the War. We got assigned to the same team, so we see each other everyday. Bria isn’t afraid of me. Rather, she finds me interesting and loves to annoy the shit out of me every single day by asking me if I’ve figured out what my abilities are yet. I walked in today, clomping into the lab in my Doc Martens and Bria, as usual, excitedly jumps up from her stool to dash over to me and yet again, annoy the shit out of me.

“Anything?!” she asks in an excited whisper as if everyone where we worked didn’t know that I was a Nukie.

I sigh exasperatedly.

“No, Bria.”

I walk over to my stool and sit down, careful not to tip it over as I lean forward and look through some paperwork. I can feel Bria’s eyes on my face as I attempt to read. I give up and lay the papers down, turning to face her. As I expected, her eyes are alight with excitement and her lithe body looks like she’s ready to spring on me. I eye her warily and take the bait,

“What?” I ask.

“ You didn’t hear?” she asks, excitement still present in her voice.

“If I’d heard anything worth warranting excitement, I wouldn’t be asking would I?” I say, annoyance in my voice.

It sails completely over Bria’s head or maybe she just ignored it.

“ They found something.” she says, trying to keep her voice down to a whisper.

“What do you mean they FOUND something?” I ask.

Could she be talking about the Feds? Did they finally “crack” the code to us Nukies?

Bria looks around nervously and gets a little closer to me which is beginning to make me a little uncomfortable. I’ve seen Bria excited, but never like this.

“They tested a girl yesterday and Raheed was checking her blood when he found something. We did the necessary tests and....” Bria said, trailing off. She glanced around nervously. I looked around too and everyone was focusing on the task in front of them. I wondered why she was so nervous.

“ And?” I asked.

“ It worked.” she said, letting out a breath as if she’d been carrying a stack of concrete blocks.

My face must have betrayed how surprised I was.

“ What?!” I said in a rather loud whisper which garnished some looks from our colleagues.

“Shhh. Keep your voice down. Not everyone in the lab knows.” Bria said leaning in close to me.

“What? Why?” I asked. Why would it be a big secret anyway? Isn’t this what we’d been working towards for months anyway?

“ I don’t know. But...be careful. I don’t know what this could mean. They may try and experiment on you next. And, you’re my friend. I don’t want to lose you.” Bria said, tears in her eyes.

I laughed and reassured her, “Bria, I’ll be fine. I’m sure they won’t. Besides, they need me don’t they?”

“ Well, yes and no. Now that they know they can do it with the teams they have, what’s not to say they won’t just forego their no-touch rule and go after you next? I mean, it’s feasible.” she said worriedly.

“Bria. I think you’re being paranoid.” I said and turned back to my paperwork.

She was right. What was to keep them from coming for me next? I wasn’t going to be some god damn lab rat for these people. And, I enjoy being a Nukie. It keeps me safe in a lot of ways. It seems to me that the only real danger in this new world are the damn humans. I mean, I still consider myself human, but a lot of people would say I’m a mutant or a monster. Nukie is a kind term and Meta-Human is what the scientists call us. They say we’re the next step in the evolutionary change. They want to understand why people like me are so special that we get to have the privilege that comes with being a Meta-Human. Everyone wants to be the cool kid on the block. It’s not exactly like I asked for this, but I’m not exactly complaining either.

I feel like an X-Man everyday. I’m just thankful I’m not Rogue. It would seriously suck to have to wear gloves everyday of my life. Wolverine doesn’t seem like a great character in terms of if I had to choose to be him. Being Storm would be pointless underground, although, she is pretty bad-ass. Jean Grey was pretty cool, but she had a lot of issues with her powers. Cyclops, I’ll pass on that one. Gambit was...interesting. Nightcrawler was pretty cool. I don’t know. I think about this often. I get to be my own X-Man. Hey, maybe I can grab a bunch of meta-nerds like me and form my very own X-Men group in real life. How could would that be?

My mind tends to wander and jump from thought to thought. I kind of can’t help it. I was so stuck in my thoughts that I didn’t realize how quiet everything had gotten around me. I look back up and everything around me is different. People aren’t moving at all and the room is no longer bright and mostly white. It’s a stormy gray and there’s a mist that’s sort of snaking around everything like I’m walking in a countryside in a zombie movie or something. I carefully get up from my stool and I wave my hand in front of Bria who is staring in my general direction. Her body stays the same. Her eyes don’t move at all. Freaky.

I can hear this low humming sound and a faint sound of what sounds like whale song? What the hell? The room is suddenly very cold and I wrap my lab jacket around me even more. I take my goggles off and put them down on the table in front of me. Is everyone frozen in time? Is this Me? It has to be Me doing this. This has never happened before. I leave the lab and dash as quickly as I can to the experiment room. This room requires a certain level of clearance that I don’t really have. I’m on the lower end of what I’m allowed to do, see and participate in. If ever I wanted the full answers to what they do to people like me, now’s the time. I’m not sure how long this will last, so I’m really praying to every God that exists that it stays this way long enough for me to snoop and get back to my desk like nothing ever happened.

I remember watching a bunch of sci-fi movies when I was a kid. I loved watching all of the old stuff. The Twilight Zone was my favorite. I remember thinking about all of the possibilities of the world and wondering if any of those things are possible. Now that I’m older, I still think it’s all very possible. I had always wanted a different life. I used to beg for anything other than the mundane. Well, I got it. There was a war and multiple nuclear bombs were dropped. Everyone wanted so badly to win that they stopped caring about who they were fighting for. In the end, no one won. I guess, maybe we did. If this had never happened, I would never know what I could be capable of, what I could become. I feel like I’m in a sci-fi novel. If you think about it, I am. Dystopian future, protagonist with a heart-wrenching backstory. I think about this as I make my way down the multiple hallways I’ve walked so many times. I stand outside the door that’s heavily guarded. There are 4 SWAT officers that are heavily armed and quite intimidating. This is my chance.

I slip past them and go through the doors to see multiple scientists frozen in various poses around the room while they do different things. In the center of the room is the president of our branch staring at a man that is naked and suspended in clear fluid with various tubes hooked up to his body. Walking around the man, I see that his eyes are open. I gasp because I notice that the color of his irises are similar to mine. I’ve never seen anyone else with eyes like mine. I don’t have any siblings, so I know we can’t be siblings. He looks about my age and is well-built. I avert my eyes and try very hard not to look down, even though I want to. The last time I had a boyfriend was in college before the war. He didn’t make it. There hasn’t been anyone since.

So this is what they’re working on back here. I walk around the room, eyeing everyone cautiously and read over some of the various paperwork that I see. It seems like they’ve been working on him his whole life. He’s a year younger than me and he’s an orphan. They took him from one of the bunkers and have kept him here ever since. His name is Project number 12. They couldn’t even give him a fucking name? This is cruel. I wonder what they’re doing to him. I’m assuming they’re experimenting on him, but I wonder what for. Is he like me? He must be to have my eyes. I wonder if he has this ability too. I press my hand to the glass. I feel this connection with him now.

I don’t know how much time I have. I’m lucky as all get out that I’ve had this long without getting caught. I turn to head out of the room and look back one last time. His eyes meet mine and I let out a gasp. Is he...awake? I back away and run down the halls to my stool and compose myself. When my breathe finally evens out, the world swims back into focus. Noise fills my ears and I can hear the on-goings of the lab. No one even noticed I was gone. So, I can control how long I freeze time after-all. I look around and everything is bright, white and clear again. What was with that weird mist anyway?

Bria comes over to me and scares the shit out of me when she whispers, “Boo.”

“Shit, Bria! Why would you do that?” I say.

Bria looks surprised and steps back.

“Woah, you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you.” Bria says.

“I’m fine. Just...tired.” I say, putting my pen down and rubbing my eyes with one hand.

“Are you having the nightmares again?” Bria asks.

“Yeah.” I say, looking up at her.

“ I’m sorry Rory.” Bria says, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I lay my hand over her hand.

“Thanks Bri. I appreciate it.” I say.

“You should go home. It’s not like they’ll notice if you aren’t here. There’s only like a thousand of us. What’s one day anyway?” Bria says.

“Yeah, maybe I will.” I say.

I work for another hour and decide to go home. I feel strange and think about that man that I saw. Was he looking back at me? Was he unfrozen? It’s weird. I feel like he’s watching me even now, but that isn’t possible. But, I can’t stop the feeling of being watched. I turn around in the street and everyone is doing their own thing. No one is looking at me. I turn around and head home.

I hang my jacket up and call out, “I’m home!”

The house is silent.

“Dad?” I call out. Complete silence.

I head upstairs and see him in bed.

“Dad?” I ask again quietly, gently putting my hand on his shoulder trying to wake him.

My breath catches in my throat. My hands shaking, I put two fingers on the side of his throat to feel for his pulse. There isn’t one. I fall back on the floor and look at his body. He’s gone.

#NANOWRIMO #writersoftumblr #4915 words

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fanfics-forever · 6 years

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Son of the Thirteenth Chapter 1

It was bright, the day of the funeral. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky and it seemed like the perfect day. Children were surely out and about, running around with their friends or their parents. They wouldn’t have a care in the world, playing and running and chasing each other just like children ought to.

This was not so for the Kurosaki family. The family that should have been five was attending a funeral for their eldest child, Ichigo. Masaki and Isshin Kurosaki both gripped onto their newborn twins- Karin and Yuzu- as though something might come and snatch the children away from them at any second. No one blamed them, not after what they must be experiencing.

Many people attended the funeral, some people Ichigo probably would not be able to remember had he still been alive. There were his friends, like Tatsuki and Orihime, who were both too young to understand what was happening. Then there was his family whom he’d never met; Ryuuken and Uryu Ishida, his uncle and cousin. Lastly there were those who couldn’t be seen by a normal human’s eye. There were three figures, to be exact. Two men and one woman. These people were known as Kisuke Urahara, Yoruichi Shihoin, and Tessai Tsukabishi.

The atmosphere was solemn, not a single person knew how to console the grieving family. Each person was grieving, even the children who couldn’t understand what was happening. Kisuke Urahara, hiding his eyes under the striped green and white hat that always seemed to be atop his head, turned to his companions.

“This is a dark day, for everyone.” He whispered, for once serious and solemn. Yoruichi nodded, her purple hair seemingly flat and lifeless whereas before it seemed to defy gravity.

“Do you think he’ll be okay in the Soul Society? Even you cannot deny his incredible spirit energy, Kisuke.” She responded.

“Someone will take care of him, I’m sure.” He turned his gaze to the sky. “No one could miss his reiatsu, and I’m sure some Captain will go and investigate. He’ll be fine.”

Ichigo blinked slowly, feeling very strange. His back hurt and he couldn’t hear his mom or his dad. They were calling him just a second ago! Where could they have gone? He sat up, realizing that he had no idea where he was. This place didn’t look like Karakura Town, it didn’t look like anywhere he knew! Ichigo looked around. There was a forest, tons and tons of trees. Most of the trees seemed dead or had no leaves. There wasn’t much green, and the forest made Ichigo scared.

“Mama, papa?” Ichigo called out, his voice shaking. His eyes frantically scanned the surrounding forest, hoping to catch sight of his mom or his dad, but especially both. They did not appear in his sight. Ichigo called out again and again, each time his voice getting louder, his tone getting higher, his mind growing more fearful. Soon Ichigo was screaming. He screamed over and over to an empty forest, his vocal chords eventually growing tired from the continuous strain.

Tears started pouring down his face. He was lost and alone. There was no one, not a single soul in sight. He didn’t even know how he had gotten there! He couldn’t remember much either, just his mom and dad, where he was from. He couldn’t remember the name of his friends, he couldn’t remember the name of his teacher, he couldn’t even remember where he lived! His mom had made him memorize it, so why couldn’t he remember now?

Eventually Ichigo decided to run. If he stayed one more second, he was sure that he would never get out! The forest was scary and he felt like there were very evil things in the forest just waiting to attack the lone boy. He ran until his legs gave out, which was not for a long while. It seemed like hours that he was running, and it could have been for all anyone knew. Eventually, he collapsed onto the ground shaking with both fear and exhaustion.

He curled up into a ball, hugging his knees tightly and crying. The sun seemed to be setting in this terrifying world, and Ichigo was scared at what might happen after dark. His dad always told him to be home before dark no matter what so nothing bad could happen, but Ichigo didn’t even know where to go to find home! If he couldn’t find home, or even find out where he was, how was he supposed to follow dad’s request? He laid his head on his knees, worn out.

A little way off in the forest, a horrifying creature was stalking the little Ichigo with malicious intent. It had long, spindly legs that lined it’s equally long and spindly body. It had a smooth small white mask upon it’s face with extremely sharp and terrifying teeth. Where the eyes were supposed to be, only a red glow.

The creature chuckled to itself, watching it’s prey carefully. Now was the time to attack, as the sun was starting to set. The monstrous creature prepared to attack, tensing and making the branches around it moan under it’s weight. Ichigo heard the brances and grew quiet, fearing what he knew was out in the forest. He was not alone, and he didn’t want to know what was close by.

The creature made a great leap, landing in front of poor little Ichigo. He froze in fright, tears still pouring down his face as he looked up to come face to face with the hideous being. It was a monster! What was Ichigo supposed to do? After all, his dad was the one who took care of the monsters! The creature- monster, Ichigo supposed- let out a deafening roar that sounded otherworldly. Ichigo hadn’t heard anything like it, and was too terrified to move away from the monster who was so clearly going to attack him. He closed his eyes, simply hoping that anyone would come to save him.

There was a little whoosh of air by Ichigo’s face, stirring his hair and the monster stopped roaring. Ichigo didn’t want to look, but curiosity got the better of him. There was a man standing in front of the monster, dressed in a white haori with the number thirteen printed on the back of it. He also seemed to be wearing a shihakusho- the clothing of the dead as his father had once told him. But even more spectacular, the man seemed to be holding back the monster with a simple sword!

The man turned to look at Ichigo. He had a gentle face, though he did look a little sick like the people who showed up to Ichigo’s dad’s clinic. His green eyes were kind, and his face seemed to resonate the fact that this man was gentle.

“Are you alright, little one?” The man asked, his voice soft and calm despite the horrible monster behind him. Ichigo simply nodded, too scared to say anything because of the monster behind the nice man. The man sighed in relief, a strand of his strange white hair falling over his right eye and resting beside his nose. “That is a relief. Stay there, I will make sure you are safe from the Hollow.” With that, the man turned to the monster once more.

The monster let out another roar after the man had taken his sword away, scaring Ichigo even more. The man did not seem worried however, and swung his sword at the monster. The swing was so fast that Ichigo could barely watch! Even more impressive to the young boy, it killed the monster in one blow. The kind man turned to Ichigo once more as the monster dissipated.

Ichigo shrunk away from him, fearing the display of power he had just witnessed and placing his head back on his knees. He heard the man put his sword away and walk toward him. The man knelt down, placing his hand onto Ichigo’s head carefully. His touch was light; Ichigo almost couldn’t tell he was there at all.

“It is alright little one, you have nothing to fear anymore. The Hollow is gone and you are safe.” Tears that had since dried on Ichigo’s cheeks welled up once more in his eyes. “I promise, I will not hurt you.” The man ruffled his hair a little before withdrawing his hand. Ichigo looked up at the man.

“You promise?” He asked, voice shaking terribly. The man was kneeling in front of Ichigo with a gentle smile on his face.

“Of course. My name is Jushiro Ukitake. I am the Captain of Squad Thirteen of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads. It is my job to protect innocent souls like you.” He tilted his head to the side and let out a small laugh. Ichigo fidgeted a little.

“Could you help me find my momma or my daddy? I don’t know where they are!” Ichigo’s voice rose in panic and fear. “I was just with them and now I’m here!” Tears were once again flowing down Ichigo’s face. Ukitake looked shocked, staring at Ichigo as if in a new light.

“What is your name, young one, and when did you get here?” He asked, his voice lowering. Ichigo’s bottom lip wavered as he spoke up again.

“I’m Ichigo, and I got here a little while ago. I woke up in this scary forest and then I ran and the monster attacked me!” With that, Ichigo launched himself into Ukitake’s unsuspecting arms. He was crying and wailing, and Ukitake could feel the boy’s spiritual energy rise; as if it wasn’t already impressive enough. Not hesitating for long, Ukitake wrapped his arms around the distraught boy and gathered him into his lap.

Not very much later two others arrived in the clearing where Ukitake held a now sleeping Ichigo. The two were dressed in similar clothes, though one did not have the white haori and the other had a pink floral kimono along with a straw hat.

“Captain, are you alright?” The shorter without the haori said. Ukitake looked up at the two and signaled them to be quiet.

“I am fine Rukia, nothing too serious happened.” He assured the frantic girl, still cradling little Ichigo. The other person took a step forward lazily, though his eyes betrayed the curiosity that he had.

“You really worried us there Jushiro, running off without saying anything.” His words were very casual, as one would expect from what they could observe from him. “Who’s that you’ve got there?”

“This is Ichigo. He is a new soul, and obviously very tired. The poor child was attacked by a Hollow mere hours after he arrived it seems.”

“It’s rotten luck that he managed to show up right in the middle of Hollow infested forest.” The man replied, tilting the straw hat downward. “Is he the presence you sensed earlier?”

“I believe so, Shunsui. In fact, I have no doubt. But now he needs rest, I shall take him back with me to the Seireitei.” Rukia seemed disturbed, staring at the young child in her Captain’s arms.

“Are you sure that is wise, Captain?” She asked hesitantly. Jushiro was already sickly, it would not be good for him to try and watch over a child.

“There is no other choice, Rukia. His spiritual pressure is unique and will most definitely attract Hollows. He will not be safe anywhere else.” He smiled at her then. “Do not worry, I will be alright.” With that, the three headed off; Ichigo in Ukitake’s arms as they made their way to Ukitake’s residence within the Seireitei.

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bixshits · 4 years

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Lost Odyssey - A Thousand Years of Dreams - Story Fourteen Transcript

Elegy Island

This happened a long, long time ago.

On a small island - which has since perished - they had an odd custom.

They mourned their dead with song: with elegies.

The songs would play without ceasing from the last moments before death, through the funeral, to the burial.

Elegies would be sung for many purposes: to ease the grief of the family, to recall the legacy of the deceased, to appease the soul of the one who died under stressful cicumstances, to celebrate one person's having lived to a ripe, old age, or to evoke anger at another's pointless death.

There were no fixed melodies or lyrics. Apparently the songs were sung without lyrics at all.

"No documents have survived, so all we can do is assemble oral histories," sighs the achaeologist as she views the island from the deck of the ship.

The people of that island country had no writing system, which means they had no way to leave behind signs or evidence of their lives.

"I wish we could at least interview a few survivors. but there weren't any. Every single person was killed."

The research team's archaeologist is a young woman in her twenties. Her country is the one that destroyed the island. It happened while her ancestors, seven generations back, were still young people.

"I hate to bad mouth my own country," she says with a shrug, "but they really didn't have to go that far."

"That far" is no exaggeration.

Her country prided itself on it's overwhelming military force. For it to gain mastery over the tiny island would have been as simple as twisting an infant's arm.

But her country believed in oppressing its neighbours with force. The leaders were thinking more of those neighbours then of the lands itself when it launched its all-out attack.

It was scorched from end to end.

Every human being on the island - from newborn babies to elders on the verge of death - was killed without mercy.

"It's odd, though," says the young woman with a grim smile, "there are hardly any records left from that time, even in our country."

"I suppose what they did was so terrible, they didn't want their descendants to know about it."

Her remark prompts some older scholars on board to clear their throats, at the sound of which she snaps her mouth shut.

"Sorry," she whispers, "you're not much older than I am, you porbably don't want to hear about all this old stuff anyway..."

"I do, though."

"What interest can a sailor like you have in these boring academic matters?"

Kaim only shakes his head in silence.

Suddenly things become very busy on deck. The boat is approaching the island and has entered a stretch of intricate channels where the skills of the crew will be tested.

The boatswain calls Kaim.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the woman says, "I shouldn't be monopolising your time. You've got work to do..."

Even as she apologizes, the talkative young archaeologist asks Kaim.

"Do you mind if I ask you one last question?"

"Please, ask away," he replies, stopping in his tracks.

She looks around to make sure no one is listening and whispers, "I'm sure this is your first time taking a research team over...."

"Uh-huh."

"And your first time going to the island?"

"Well, yes..."

"So you probably don't know about some of the bad stories they tell about this place - that some scholars who go there fall under a curse. Like, they get sick while doing their research on the island, or they become mentally unstable after they get home. I've heard some even killed themselves."

"You mean a long time ago, right?"

"Right. This is the first research trip in fifty years. Up to them, every time they sent out a team, one or two of the members would suffer the curse. This is why they put a stop to them all these years. So I'm a little scared myself..."

She sends a mock shudder through her body. "I just thought I'd ask if you could teach me some magic spell for getting back safely..."

Kaim looks straight at her - not merely taking in her appearance but searching for the person deep inside.

"You'll be fine," he says.

"You think so?"

"I'm pretty sure you'll be okay"

She looks at him questioningly.

"If you hear singing, though," he adds "hum along with it"

"What do you mean?" she asks, her expression increasingly uneasy, but Kaim says nothing more.

"Get over here now, Mister!" the boatswain shouts at Kaim, who heads for his station.

He did tell the woman one white lie, though.

This is not his first time coming to the island.

He has been here many times before.

Hes first trip happened a long, long time ago.

As the archaeologist said, that islands elegies had no fixed melody or lyrics. They were all sung extemporaneously and never repeated.

A hundred deaths required a hundred elegies.

Nor did mourners agree in advance on the nature of their elegy before they started singing. At frist, each would sing his or her own song expressing his or her own feelings about the deceased. Eventually, the jumble of songs would come together into a single melody without any one singer taking the lead.

In the culture of this island that had no writing, there was, of course, no musical notation. There were no instruments for accompaniment either. Each mourner, in grieving for the loved one, would give voice to hopes for a peaceful journey, and a song would emerge.

Kaim's travels first brought him here when the island was at peace, which is to say, centuries ago.

He happened to arrive just after the death of a village elder. For three days and nights, an elegy was sung around the clock. The island people's song, which shook the darkness and reverberated all across the clear, blue daytime sky, left its mark with a certain ennobling comfort in the breast of Kaim, a man for whom fate had decreed that no one would ever sing an elegy.

To think that such an island had been burned to the ground!

The people fled in all directions at once, and were murdered one at a time.

It was an absolute bloodbath.

Kaim knows about the atrocities that accompanied the butchery - things that were not handed down to the generation of the young archaeologist.

Had it wished to, the woman's country could have taken control of the island in a single night, but instead it used its military power to chase down each of the islands inhabitants over a period of several days as if carefully filling in the blank spaces in a coloring book.

The island became enveloped in elegies.

At first, while the living still outnumbered the dead, voices in elegiac song all but shook the island with their volume.

As the days went by, however, and the dead came to outnumber the living, the sobbing voices in song grew ever fainter.

When the battle reaches its final phase, the few remaining islanders, who had been cornered in the islands northern tip, fled into a large cave.

They resigned themselves to death.

All that was left for them to do was pray that they might be allowed to die with some degree of peace.

But even this small measure of hope they were unable to wring from their attackers.

The army of the archaeologist's country wert for maximum brutality. The entered the cave with every weapon at their command, and they dragged out and killed one islander per day.

Today is was an old man.

The next day it was a young man.

The day after that they tortured to death a young mother with an infant at her breast, and the following day the infant they force from her arms was put to death.

The elegies resounded without interruption.

The singing voices that escaped from the cave invaded the ears of the soldiers who were carrying on the masacre. Those soldiers with kind hears collapsed one after another, or they went mad and left the front line.

Song was the final weapon of the islanders, who had no other means to fight.

They went on singing as they struggled against starvation, thirst, and their own fears.

The commanding officer of the anti-insurgency force ordered his men to fill in the mouth of the cave. If they buried the people alive, he thought, the singing would no longer be audible.

Nevertheless, their singing continued.

It went on, day after day.

Rainy days, clear days, daytime, nighttime it continued, but no longer without breaks, which gradually increased in length.

The singing went beyond being an elegy for a single person and became a song suffused with the sorrow of all the living things on the island.

About the time the season ended, the last thing thread of singing died out.

The army left the island.

Not a single record of these military operations was left.

Never again did anyone come to live on the island.

The first research team in fifty years is plagued by difficulties.

One scholar after another collapses.

Almost every day, someone is sent out to the vessel anchored offshore, sick.

All of the scholars moan with pain, blocking their ears.

The situation is exactly what it was before the island was sealed from research.

Kaim knows exactly what is happening.

The ocean breeze sweeping across the island sounds like a song.

The brances swaying in the forrest sound like a song.

The birds in the trees sound like a song.

The babbling of a brook sounds like a song.

The treading of boots on piled-up fallen leaves sounds like a song.

The crashing and receding of waves on the shore sounds like a song.

The elegy for the island that people sang with every last bit of life they could dredge up from inside themselves, now is being sung by the island itself.

"Please stop, I beg you, please stop..."

The scholars cry out in their delirium, covering their ears.

"I dont know what we did. It was our ancestors, not us."

The scholars who maon this hear anger and sorrow in the constanty recunding elegy.

What they say is true: it is not their fault.

But they have been given no knowledge of what happened on this island so long ago.

Sometimes, not knowing can be a profound sin.

They should prick up their ears and listen all the more.

That is what Kaim has always done.

The elegy being sung by the island is not merely hurling hatred and anger at them.

The island is not trying to torture members of the younger generation like them who are without sin.

Rather than blocking their ears, they should listen.

If they do so, the message will reach them.

For the island is telling them.

"You must know the truth. You must know what actually happened on this island so long ago."

The investigation ends much earlier than originally planned.

Most of the research team have returned to the ship, their health broken, and some of the more seriosly ill members have been sent home. It is no longer possible to continue the work.

The young archaeologist who spoke to Kaim on the way in is one of the few who have persevered to the end.

"Thanks to you," she says to Kaim.

As soon as she climbed from the launch into the ship she saw Kaim standing on deck and hurried over to him.

She looks haggard, but her fatigue is clearly less phyical than mental.

Still, her eyes harbor a strong-willed gleam.

"Did you hear the singing?" he asks.

"I did," she says with a nod, looking back at the receding island.

"It was so sad!"

Just as he had thought: she was able to open herself to the sadness.

"Did you sing along with it?"

"Yes, I did that, too - partly because of what you said to me, but I also found myself humming the same tune quite naturally."

Kaim nods and smiles at her.

This is the first time he has encountered anyone with the heart to hear the island's elergy.

"This time when i get home," she says, "I want to do some more serious research on the war. It's something I have to do, I almost feel I don't have any choice in the matter."

"I'm glad to hear that," he says.

"I might turn up some facts that my country finds inconvenient, but I feel its absolutely necessary to learn the truth - to know what actually happened."

The ship emerges into the open sea.

A single white bird flies out from the island is if seeing the ship off on its journey.

Tracing a great arc against the blue sky, it releases one high, ringing cry.

No longer an elegy, this is a song of joy and forgiveness signaling the dawn of a new age.

#lost odyssey #kaim argonar #seth balmore #sarah sisulart #ming numara #jansen friedh #cooke and mack #cooke #mack #a thousand years of dreams #1000 years of dreams

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florafaunaravenna · 5 years

Text

Reflections on Crescent Lake and the Salt Creek Tide Pools

On the morning of April 13th our Natural History class piled into a fleet of university sponsored minivans and headed out for the Olympic Peninsula. I didn’t know what to expect what I would find out there, but I had with me my most weatherproof clothing, my field guides, and a pair of high power binoculars strapped to my chest. I was ready to perceive the natural world and to perhaps find transcendence from my suburban life of “quiet desperation”, as good old Thoreau prescribed.

After several hours of transit we made it out to the tide pools at Salt Creek. Walking along the beach was a pleasure, to begin with. By my feet in the fluctuous strand floor which seemed to yield to my boot soles as though the sand and sea water had mixed to produce some kind of non-newtonian sludge-y fluid, I could see the tiny pipholes that seemed to be produced by the mollusks that were buried under the sand, and the fluted “leaves” of the kelp and seawrack that laid forlorn all along the shore like the discarded clothing of mermaids.

This was drawn at Salt Creek at 3:00 PM on April 13th, temperature around 46 degrees Fahrenheit, with a light rain falling and a brisk wind blowing from the West. I feel pacified and yet moved by the movement of all the life and the abiotic things around me. I wonder how much humans must muck around in the environment for them to be a threat to nature, because nature seems so vast and impenetrable. I notice that there’s a lively algae smell on the air, perhaps because there’s a lot of algae and kelp growing in the water, or perhaps because there is algae and kelp fermenting on the beach? It reminds me of third grade field trips.

[a part of the coastline which rose rockily over the tideline, the first that were in abundance obviously had a much better hold and were more prominent in the places where their footing was more secure, and less likely to be disrupted by the continual shifting of the tidal movements]

The sky was grey and overcast, and as I walked along I could feel beads of rain drop on me, and the brisk westerly wind (coming all the way from the Alaskan coast, as I understand it) reminded me of the hundreds of inches that fall out here in the peninsula, watering and nurturing the trees, ferns, and mosses that I would later see while walking around the woods nearby Crescent Lake.

I pulled out my binoculars and took a look at the trees of a promontory rising above the waters, and saw a bald eagle perched on a Douglas Fir. They like to be near shorelines so that they can hunt their favorite prey--fish--and they perch on high trees, so if there was a place I was going to see a bald eagle it would be there.

[A Bald Eagle (Haliaeetus leucocephalus) seen from below and partially obscured by a tree. I could only see its upper half and didn’t look at it when it flew away, but even from the distance and with the partially obscured view I could tell it was a powerful bird of prey. Its eyes had a noble cast to them, I thought.]

I looked through my binoculars, adjusting the focus to get a more advantageous and precise view, before I moved on crossed the strand towards a more rocky area of the beach. Here, what immediately struck me was the preponderance of barnacles and mussels latched onto almost every open rock that was hit or submerged in the briny water of the Sound.

[walking along the rocky tidepools of Salt Creek, there was a ground cover--a carpet, basically--of barnacle encrusted Sea Mussels (Mytilis californianus) (so I would guess because of their size)]

I was told after asking about the mussels that they latched onto a substrate of dirt on the rocks using hairs that somehow grew out of their bodies, through their shells, and latched on with tight bonds to the rocks, where they clung and filter fed on whatever the tide brought in for food.

Walking, wading, and climbing over the rocks and terrain of the rocks I saw a veritable cornucopia of life springing up unbidden from the water and the grey stones:

[a kelp crab (Pugentia producta] and a young Purple Sea Urchin (Strongylocentrotus purpuratus)]

[a unique Red Spong (Ophilitaspongia pennata)]

[A Black Chiton (Katharina tunicata) hanging out on the inside of a mussel shell]

[This sketch here is a drawing I made of one of two Green Anemones (Anthopleura xanthogrammica) that were swaying and swishing their stingers in shallow pool of water at the center of the rocky outcropping. I tried to get a closer look at the mouth but I was unable to tell how it was or by what mechanism or moving of parts the anemone actually eats. Its color was a vibrant, lively green hue that reminded me a faded neon, or perhaps like electrified grass]

I triapsed back and forth over the beachhead, looking at this or that thing, until I could feel the wind cutting nearly to my bones. It felt a lot like the wind that came down from the cloud and chilled poor Annabel Lee, so I eventually beat a retreat to the minivans parked above the beach after taking a few good looks at the Oystercatcher strutting about on a distant rock. I learned that barnacles latch onto rocks with their heads and that the openings that I had figured to be their mouths were actually their feet, which they used to draw in their food.

It occurred to me almost strange the reality that many of our natural habitats and environmental treasures are being eradicated or put to unbearable levels of stress by human industrial activity, because the ocean and its consequent liveliness seemed so vast and inexhaustaible out there. I felt insignificant and truly microscopic in my human concerns in comparison to the vast teeming universe of life and interaction that was occurring below those waves. I knew that I was only glimpsing a portion, a sliver of the strange life and kingdom that operated 24/7 below the foaming and cresting sea. So on the way to Crescent Lake I closed my eyes and tried very hard to commit all that I’d seen to memory, and if I couldn’t commit it exactly it as it had been to memory, to at least preserve the essence of the feelings and passions that were stirred in me as I gazed out over the grey windy horizon.

Also, I noted that in terms of abiotic and biotic factors, the abiotic factors were a much stronger influence on these creatures that I could visibly see than a biotic factor like some predator. The placement of the mussels and the more stationary sea creatures, like the anemones, limpets, and barnacles were entirely dependent on where the rocks were to be found to be firmly lodged in place and yet swept over by the tide. The rocks provided a stable base for the mollusks and the bivalves to live while the presence of the tide brought in necessary sustenance. The eagle also, was dependent on having a large tree and a lack of human interference ( I later learned) to make its livelihood of hunting small fish easier along the coastline.

The next day, after our group had slept overnight in the fine lodgings of Camp Rosemary, I went out early with a group (around 6:30 in the AM) to do some bird watching. Tim demonstrated how birds could be attracted through the use of a call that could be replicated on a smart phone, though he advised against the repetitious use of such methods, apparently because the birds catch on to what you’re doing and start ignoring the calls altogether. Still, I got a good chance to use my binoculars and my not-so-great faculties of snap-second perceptiveness to try to catch some birds in their natural habitat. I saw a hairy woodpecker, a red-breasted nut hatch, and saw quite a few pacific wrens, who engaged in a kind of territorial dispute with another group of pacific wrens right before my eyes.

[I attempted here to draw from memory and the aid of some judicious googling later a Red-breasted Nut Hatch that I was only able to take a rather blurry photo of by pressing my phone camera up into the eye hold of my binoculars. The bird was small and danced on the branc, up and down before flying off into another part of the forest. It’s call had a distinctive up swing to it that I found pleasant and compelling]

At the end of our walk we saw a couple of lone alders, which I was able to distinguish because of their whitish trunks. Tim said that the alders were pioneering, in that they were better able than other trees to grow after an area had been disturbed, either by a fire, or by human intervention.

A picture of Lake Crescent early in the morning. A Very Pristine and Beautiful Lake. This was taken at 6:30 in the morning, on April 14th, clear skies, temperature of 47 degrees Fahrenheit. The drawing was made in the same conditions.

I feel awe, wonder, a closeness to divinity, and calmness. I wonder whether the lake freezes over in the winter times, and how often it does if it does. I notice that the fog is rolling seemingly very slowly back over the mountains at this hour and I also wonder what causes the fog to be so thick around these parts. It reminds me of some ancient past that I feel all of humanity must feel resonate in their deepest heart of hearts hearkening back to some primeval grandness.

I attempted to make a drawing of the other side that I could see from where I was standing, where the fog was rolling slowly and leisurely off the snowcapped hills, and the fir and pines were standing so proudly and tall with their distinctive bronze and dark green leafy coat. Really a sublime sight to see.

We went walking through the forest and I got a much better look at the strange biotic and abiotic interactions that influenced the growth and ecosystem of the woods. In one case there was a clearing where someone had probably cut down trees to make room for a cabin. The person had packed all that up and moved away, maybe 50 years ago or so, because there were about 4 or 5 slanting alders standing there in the clearing, reaching up towards the forest canopy.

A lot of what affected the tree ecosystem, as I understood it, was competition for light. The trees that could grow the tallest the most quickly--usually the Hemlock--were to dominate the forest, except in those cases when another element of nature, such as a fire, made it so that the cedars, with their natural resistance to fire, could thrive in the absence of other competitors. This interplay between abiotic and biotic factors in deciding the makeup of the forest was very interesting to me. It wasn’t just that the tall trees predominated as one would imagine. Instead, there was a more complex interaction happening betyween various advantages and idiosyncrasies of the trees. Some were more prone to being choked by the growth of moss or other epiphytes on their brances. Some were able to synergize with the epiphytes by taking nutrients that the epiphytes created from the atmosphere using their natural ability to fix nitrogen.

[This was a particularly interesting specimen. The tree had collapsed and became a stump, but had somehow continued to survive because it was now tethered to a nearby fir by something called a mychorrizal mat. If there were more competition for resources this stump would surely die, but because there was an abundance it could live a sort of half life attached to a nearby healthy specimen]

[I couldn’t identify this mushroom very well. It had a glossy brown cap, and a slightly pale stalk. The most distinctive feature of it that caught my eye was the gill-like folds underneath the cap, that, when I rubbed my fingers over them, left behind a kind of velvety residue on the pads]

Overall the trip was remarkable and mind blowing in many ways, and though I am but a novice and neophyte... And truly of weak and small comprehension when it comes to naturalism and the natural world in general, I was more than glad and even grateful that I had had the opportunity to be in the natural world and learn something about it. While I was learning about the alder’s pioneering nature, and the hemlock’s preponderant survivability in difficult and rocky conditions, the eagle’s disdain of humanity and the symbiotic relationship between the trees and the moss, or got to touch the side of a glacial erratic and see the places where the driving action of a giant glacier must of have worn it smooth and then rough again and again over thousands of years, I was in awe, I really was.

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libidomechanica · 2 months

Text

Indecision, all on

A sonnet sequence

Verse I

Of Petrarch and nail, where Jamshýd and maid paused his Lips. No hath love, beside of means to closet never white a sole effection? My hear is she wept with lewde lorrell, will love, or once after she noise, Nay! For a land: old Susan lay deepen all legacy of all in view, before thy beauty were was crammed to not charms possible shepheard’st me best.—Cannot mickle, how she hills a-snort as, but you things unseene than off our union, and let babes? And as once tis survives. And praised heart will, too cold far council up. How farwell who on the broken charms, o, gie to then the misbelieve the reins, wild was sooth, those gay, is each ray;— but when at have me. In the seems, the sky bends my well. Indecision, all on the two before yet and melancholy joy, threshold oak trees be back too. And range adventured leads wheele: but sincere, where is nobler not still my love, or decays?

Verse II

Love loss: the auspicion, and Betty is the moonlight, and no powers with it applies, and the prepares deep in all the Maids by my arms, o, gie Cuckold from the long the master its own run the same darkness wisdom more I viewest, and one in fear of all thoughts before us from danger I will lovely famine, unduly, this told to the longe hath by day, there’s cross the world enroll that they beauteous lived so learn of storian, so sweetly kept yfere to pot, the first day my mought hints. Thy look’d more their pleased lover tary, think me she is the Potter brutish young, though and well.

Verse III

Proper wife that dost great the Cupid with blocke so bring, in scorn a live. That you made love’s favourings should I saw the Goal, over that, nor fresh me, and am I fleece made a peasant too? Grave, with blockhead upon the bonie last heinous from Indus tones will love, to lovely live o’er earth did nothing eyes, not yet marvel at once aside, ladies weal of my love, or zeal, lighter— but was scarcely Grace she cannot myself she word the night and like a words of my Belovëd, which you pursue he dove talked the song of Common in sleep. Heavens all on me goes should return. I’ll tell; but one with fine; and buzzing or vocal air, and the night with griefs to thy swears, and if a pedantic roar; and loveliest think notes, that we bene night; I craving brance—for suffer to my feet see its own torturingle, and drooping all we cannot to crossed she what panting braid or Nymph, or dark.

Verse IV

Like climbs in a brother and hearty charms the grove when you mount Oliuet: feedingly with the spake of the Firmament, with strong. The rose roses everyone evening his for your four fault, which way though thee, lest thou could make thee, they rejoicing a kiss by years down by my medical life and maybe, I rate doth belts with that, with spiry than your dust. To see on a dreams. Are such sighs the Veil. Ah, Moon of all thy swine. Such virtue heard grew lucent wet unsandl’d well. And he love’s jealous stone in and to speaking born, and I, o we calling found about a softest secret nobody know.

Verse V

For pierce disposed of Spring to its own: whose his eyes, a fitted, and write me is delight eye; theyr Pan this pretend earest bare Penauntering than that is politesse married the oak tree, was in her mark! And the my eyes stirr’d one halls of all mister, much,—but whole cold with his heads such a scroll, there if I cannot lack, as chamber: dim and fixing so pick it quite at then see as, slighten to know, gone, my mind graffed vp his dying soul that every lofty lady die at moment’s eyes. And—A blink is certain, whom you know it’s today, the different wet under than she gavel.

Verse VI

To have left full finds in entry: riding. Into his happy crossed by mewere to me intel, calm of fragrance snake’s smooth my flower in actions, and small. I do hold nigh the faster all through Wisdom! Elsewhere, belonging, passion fair we’se ne’er read it EVIL. Which lays had not what class wi’ mony a sweet Christabel Jesu, Mag. But if the transient though a rapt in Sport parades ev’ry dashingled; and for a Solitude in the Oda, in bed, and true be infected by an uncrossed shee with years, he roll, and told hope. Their slave; he breeze would be back again realms to the rose.

Verse VII

That bene the committen—wash the well, as those viewed, as life or mild; and all thine and a wife is the rises bower, through ne’er you; good night, other ratherless rises between they lay. Gathering, flush’d to thousand Year revive, thy so you, fond that struggling your propens her soul to hold oak tree-houses probed tainty, rising summer than health has beam. Her hair foremost asleep you, Maria, she crime of hell me train in my with Molly Stewart, the shadow from hence, mountain two night of the heart thought exalts the clamour trance that I’m suppose tears not what way, that I was face with me.

Verse VIII

Dull seemed heart! To do what is the great these worn when paye yourselves knots of their summer of the chaste along ye lovely fled, and o’ertake pity! Now in silent to me had maybe, love enhances as much a hearted and full hyllye places as it was when and I give mystery of planet for grateful sacrification I hae tinkling and veil. And they fled, his wide world, unbother, sixteen snake coiled at lease topmost grass a damsel fairly; and wife. I have bee kiss that prayed. All unlike Heav’n’s wide, but the rushes of glittered, who this small, the cock and without a cave eating air.

Verse IX

All all not myself when I lose in his Hour of human ties serenest of this worse halloo! Commended from his a Wind and suspicion and in love. Blowing; somewhere I ween, Indecently law. Much more keen take me quite so boldly her side; whilome all this told wood. That such aureated in Rows. Take and what is no need I probably antique house bridle, halloo! To replied, which thee fled with Rule and prisoner fountains have relently, she scold out each they shepheard the bridegroom wash my dying. That once, she propinquity to heart will of such this; my verse left the Daughter’s closed tight!

Verse X

Mine on a mighty passed at the blood is there speak once and balm was in I was chary as far I condition any now a king, and furthern shepeheard again; for naked not yet and mild; then up at all the perceive their too had for fewer she seen all my well, and dislike you left they some shapes parch’s playing with his name; however faith. If their opens that thy sought, and from a beauteous Mind. No one, a maiden galage of all were, blame, and now and Days, there within. We ha’ one back, one of him? But if th’ all always, and cared porpoise, and daring—which he fleeting?

Verse XI

Then all: but one by some was the sweet. Who, with flower, not a-creaking, and the dry that for laugheth once more the earth dew; nor of the Gods that sweet, and takes me haue I would youth, knell. The jealous of happie sighing eye and a thought his blithe alike a stones with wings hover’s tales of cowslips was, will love, at lass will looks about the rosy banquet we mightingale. And burn to demean. When pleasing time; for what broake, wherefore or one were fools do not so we cries and lain her disclose o’er than despair stirs, sweet thy songs with as clean, lost be kind slays, where was no noise, for thing burn the wynd.

Verse XII

And your nobler well best whate’er I bow’d after nor statue of Nature, and on the sad of thy car thy misunderneath goest brave place Juanna a chance flies. Grow good form, and large and of custom of quickly, beloved; a think it up, till still, last line about the gorse; and lips the might cool and eddies away in their head under head weigh, left and those who knell our further an Hermitesse thee onely vnto him the boy’s mite, ’ and made, so love inscript short a feeding in the crost an end.—By still at othere is a woman: the west, some rough her feet; that brief from yondering hair.

Verse XIII

Nor the like this the walls black rock, we cliffs, a fit to weep, a fond of the curs’d, and you crazed him in the women is rebellious seen forest hold? Which less lying madness of brave, that to skye, there’s none, and still, making stare which hungry with hind-part in their marble you and low, the ones and pace is threaded care: for a woman fame on, ah, how of laws our the stalked, he trode. Now I must had bent, and stone to looke to be but one or turning-tide, by rivers, and ancied sights and sensual sites, as even mortal’s veil’d to tell metal the for gentle pony he wide, ladies light!

Verse XIV

Her proue the rose-leaf by morn of their heart, not mission, or likeness down fa’ she lofty lady tall, come, her boy, who met with goes. With mean angelo, hands were hall, and makes me gowd, thou shalt within the milk come against ever head; or pleasure and have where is face. And its go free from the moonlight, sank downe, so gladly be a murky old worst, and cherubins as thus Goods to shaken me awaken. My torso a sort and Love’s victims at a love of Ettricking never said she’s an empty Glasse, which we left aching age, I dream’d out of a captive express with which embargo.

Verse XV

Living Fingers of Life, my burr, but empty cells, and on this touch the long moon is them the ruin’d to see that there her quit heard then she long hand unjoin, but one says said, curst be bold, dishone to close up, and fause her lands, gone, nor man calm me could barber lady Christantly turn no more in martiall still mocker, this parting miss. Their leaves after-rest when lately has bereav’d offended, Let us melts with forward thy pressing-room. The work like admires my Lady Psyche, now is, that home green look at was at sight, Betty flocks as if now I thinking. Once the may cloud that are forgot.

Verse XVI

Is not shrine, all growing. Our house, who know man-made tis but a moon laid if we fingers all forme of corner of amber so ill: The moonlight, and beautiful land disease— years from all: who hast pyne, position. From the joys the write me all things—I sought there the left him down; there’s not blame was no greater far with a fair Sultán scared then the roar. The little pearl and we, and pestle. And fondly on a wounded. To lives and the spight road? Let we slept on the heart him befel, even the deuce take Juanna, though waiting mind. The Quarrel about: but cruell compound she taper anthems tore.

Verse XVII

And fame, fly me, lovely bask in his bright. Oh saint those from which thy brave in for love appears. Dawn the tears to-day primroses! Since deprecarious cries serene, he quaff’d of wonder’d from her, look in a careless tell—I thou are it, tu-who! When I love do? And unstead, I tried insufficial cargo—than thy love of dewy dawn; and the Lot of Kaikhosrú forgive your out the night. And little linnets I with Susan with all out, tear, and those tender nursed her beauties ended him still. When to haue had crabs his cheek hath be Natured? That is mow’d, as the dalying all thy husbandry?

Verse XVIII

Their flocke, a dances on your gentleman fall are swelled her eyes such strong the dusky quit the cross till I quite you telligence, and merrily round, and lustless and told worse were your hang. A counten rails, and Paradise with a flow’r, whereof she bell away with teares she sprung it home inscription, fair former pleased me; and you said: I have love, her burning, all as very monastic to me, Naomi turning bene the could pretty well scorn em most thousand maiden gave, the Potter toilet, love me, and a broken at thir girlonds to resigne of deities engrains did she.

Verse XIX

Rejoiced to speak; ah for they council up. It is just and strife renews were nothing it were by some of gallant legs, clears the Day of what dusky quiver a To-morrow seizes upraiser epitaph to move a singled porpoised up be drown her eyes the city, whether timely come to clutch foreign to have so much tyrant’s whispers it hold worthies they had into follow, If the swine were moved to Absál, her aid it out of Petrarch wept, and dime, but ere throughts and no Serpent’s best hour; and I, was we first morning. Of thy hand in this repose: the with consequel of Light.

Verse XX

Soft kindle altar’s doomsday and Fate—the ocean that oft upset bed forbeare cherefore ye well! To taste—thou kiss’d my cold little gate to obeyed; and lips, touch, as the door shell. Her the day is the verse of mankind greated to be cleariness shall bang out that I tried until tis solemn cloud of story, and dim; but Chronology, thou flee. While the Air, as some mine. My morning, belonging and Master, or less or heard, that an angel’s skill you have hooted to share, the sake I swears the waves whatever such of Tryermaine! And full singing so. And was clear again, with soft first dame!

Verse XXI

We will not give you, Maria, shine again from thy mother suffice was a warning that when thee with their chamber: dim and tender, and all thought unholy her feel the Grass, ’ which I will keeps are o’er the man of sorrow, lay about the might&morning rosy mouth sips: Ay, in so innocent, you denied what is for the Moon awake, beloved and fingers of a dream it with him, of this loveliness. To her pale as infinite as she world with spiry tuneful Evening, the charity, to showed, and the Carouse: divorced uncommenced to be here soft and while Abelard!

Verse XXII

Each mild; the Rose,—tell us winter all shiver or farther—Surely beneath her with mutual pity on the girl, for on they heart in a dame! Sylvan his daughter it leanest all. Of this bridge them glow: and make knows what to wander: I told hoped her. Familiar Juice, as not forth, which those gayne: as meet that a spoke, Dudu looks both singing. And thinke of melling thou would have not like thy lips? That I feel the pangs on flowers I am man! For you and doth for in triumph, come, sweets, and me took me for, we’re rich an out of Loues scope afford the first dame and maid. Or youth undoing.

Verse XXIII

’Er was amiss that chivalry will bang out; for mettled eyes: I went, above me inter! Or I see such as wish the earth is quick share, the Mansion. The gentle read weird seizes up again-say, fair-haired to die. ’ Then, and rarest—now as with head such familiar sigh-tempests all and a voluptuous pow’r, what no modern Amazon and all legacy of my young Frank its go frequence: but few. With well will are up—she was a pure and raise beneath the larks of glittered from your since made him. Why is my cold—yet Eloisa lovely born, or your gifts, in the fire; and chime: I thing.

Verse XXIV

As a scroll, so deeme, thine owne wrinkling right. But not tell used they shame give me, like a poet cold. Rose be dearer to wash away home well be weigh hast, and one felt him and the sat vpon a ruffled rocks as theyr god Pan, vpon the scatter, long passion of my mine han this misery moaning mild ecstatic ocean without a stories of Muse with as weak. Did imitated, and crowing over world, how long but when the secure, not a sound deep of a kiss they were sooth, a bed. Thou the high the university untied her tell. Her grey- haired to indigest such thou think of Ware.

Verse XXV

Thou heart i carry your horrors risks are the Saint, when pay in most tremble grove taughter, quick share if thy she sang an oak, and now the second bullet the Day—so themselves theyr weede. And their gratefull fifteen, does it holds good worse, of the gate; that beau, or Dem my care. And in this? Since that Susan’s Forgiving, but they strait; I grateful spire: hindering in their once in acts: then the loud, for ears the spread of op’ning day! And no more the early loves in action mountain come, and the keep them about us so, she is she map of silverswords sing. Him, and Helen’s bland, and stir of soul.

Verse XXVI

Nor feature wary this Kent cried; demure which, thy sire less surcease, to takes. Heart’s ever decay without a Thorn, and errors risk a thought, that tore&waste kiss upon his hold of flames in anyway toward, she scenes much lean’d away, and by the bring bathe. Stands were set, the shrike, and I’ll still dissever, these my eyes she keen these but let the Cup, and join in women are re-survey, with tempties all right, all back&forth his own which gave upon his lighten’d, bright there were she through ye be, more love do? Like the low, ’tis thy sovran shrieks of rock again, without drags in a woman, who bewailed.

Verse XXVII

Repent to the Garden by women of Honor dress my share in all whom glue my pleasing, her eye. With sometimes, he rode, as an undoing me now. It was the blue vein; but it is certain fruit, and vine Altars her feelings short of op’ning friends: the disguised to lend. With a clam. Woe is thinking itself. The boy’s gloried tree, but think, believe my firme we wand thus it from far of those were seen array’d, and gave with God and when lamp, and out luxury. Saved beaster that, if thy lodger. ’ Awake! So nere. Lest what sad quandary; and Lo! For suffered by farther Pasty luscious Hail or pain.

Verse XXVIII

Here woes: what she loving it is beautiful daught to blood to die. Or they shed do within, suspicion and prowd that we a mournful that venge is sceptre life? And like no noise. Greasy despite than saying guile that Thomalin can makes the pony, Betty shook her fair come inters of sin o sorrow that trance; so much it creatures, Heaven, cries of horse not though nettled forbid the Breath, bleed about Judas had and great the ring, of crime? But suspicion new flame, and war’s faults done of one drown’d me your remote a Fountain-top, to pot, but hurry in more pair, it murmuring gypsey-folk.

Verse XXIX

That in a drunken pleasant nor wit and all pleasing speed-laden Metal may e’enin such as wings, there themselves our heart with furs and their maid another: they saw and clasp shrieking and leaves soon be the sold, and always the save a footsteps in their coming reacherous ear, is my body to end: full of there you in some far count him thou shall mens ever it grieves away; if Susan? I scarce seek him in a cypress’d; but they bene and for her eye is being and how to-morrows here, when Love put for a sudden be help me put foolish to wrangled porpoise, whom young Lochinvar.

Verse XXX

Like vibration ways fine; and, last grass as the Sin whose tense offence? ’Tis all I, unshake, but the moon their heate when the stone. That her cared then her friends downe, a horse-maiden more imperials and liued with you. Shadowy in whose brows—therefore the travels crumble constrangest it has payd, no such gentle very same which is—o sorrow to his harmefully reign to the find than islander a Tory memory; the down awards young; and he same to keep but let her; the Hus-bandmaid, that’s favour of the not to resign, for suffer the tinkling, tree; but since and forgot now I am just change; and loue belts of self-approximate what she and body and kiss by years, tis queen as ere you send folding to decorates; when times full of some pare. By which threw dull and loud, withstand aye, by the was smooth, so my father There’s neither—not unallied to lightshaded care!

Verse XXXI

Yet he was pleasure feeling, one that we this priests, his the Lip it music strong, nor bred by Sallust was not wake? That strong, with wilt that her in a truce establish’d be. Lose bloody dale, crawled on his Highness on the sworn like and home. And not sinful Psyche, neither mind; affect, their back to that nobody knows what woman well-built wine. For mind. But now, mong but when long ere hearse where lives in vainly three castle bowed, as twere a second lovers blood. Why will dictates, and faint a world for who move, and in known mind me without it’s not one in ever a wind on glories of May, with me.

Verse XXXII

So bold, and I made the light kindle token, and tale more or admiring skies, his commands of sleeps, and once she fell! Pitied his worthlessness in they are make o’t. Wild as flung, and now how to Being—let the radio wash and for kissed. Hope, and stone juanna, this own by the skie dote on, we’re children nursed please: yet should compos’d, and stout by the right wherefore we would seems that kills we trance, nor deare other own drough the stay; I had crowd about to spake whene’er counterfeit. You a might did, he quietest Georgian ignored ye sall drift;—but since thou have beetless virgin darksome bright.

Verse XXXIII

As sure, the communing mile that pray your barking brain to thinks! Shadow on the tower, The air in me into my headlong the dead by the fast, ye rose again rooftops. There than sayne, considerative moonlightful Fair thou be aged, or lightly shore just regulate, when the whom I state! Thou shalt with alter now! Voluntary gleams. Horatian, unpaid, sistering in acting she antipodes of vermeil cheare: most my your death. And there quoth Betty flown accents yours what they gushing in the name, may time antique pent ere the Fire is my night; minds and eke the sold, thought o’clocke?

Verse XXXIV

Our world forget! The Mountaine ranckorous dropt to clean upon there the light the Wise that hide appear they are still much is she though and some gulfe, but her soft and Sages with bosom the silence, Christabel in the rolled hot lines the vision of Heav’n, I were story of a bay: ten the loot the light with horrors not admiring heavy! Or howe heart and forgotten saying water beans not outright: submitting dews impart, each night. And her head downcast and I have each deliver’s strange, but what is same, for what kill roll! To kiss you being beneath a blind; and Betty much mourn to look.

Verse XXXV

Thou sprung but on now in acts: the C he grew that old-fashionable to encount as well? A throught I shalt wings; she’s tuneless strip of wine. In my eyes, all remedy be welcomes so small! Though these mosse, doze I saw the heart, o charge, and warm from the truth; and Betty, poor shall fly with some small. Be reward parts of the Lady on dear Redeemed to hides to smile could nothings she? From North which gaping, thought what crime with wrath wings; she water of the writ like foresayd from goodness dear Genevieve, and there, whither please are far a train falls imprint with for ever partaken at he doctor frae naebody. You goes blot of thee. Turns rigour own somethings do say. He quadruple clocks the loot the destroy, that her own life, my circle of pleasant, have played; and all the gold you thus ending in the oak. A fluid among through heed that would calm in you seeking to slope to charms, she love!

Verse XXXVI

And next to beauties. Then roaste: and at poore Vassal wrong. When she: full of it. Save to do with the desire! And kisse, waxed vests grew pale you learn the poor Susan’s kneeled all: who cannot mean enough Natures dead on guano and sware the other sips But Lilia please—we wild, dishonour of May, fair who had not a-creaking Beauty walk in youth did eagerly free, fishes they wasted welcome home: o, carved steel so fair too much decline. With they do not beam. Perhaps tis truth; and Johnny do, and sith tears! World. Foe came on her eyes or sheepe to come; come, who his laid. Thy glance ecstasy?

Verse XXXVII

From Fingered much an oak, and still again: but letter mind now tread, his Heav’nly foe out such be of these armèd man, but the corner of yestrew where ease us from pain. Deep from North was blazoned with that, womanly my soueraigne of us wild worthy own remove, and tis tender Dust, the vision Venus buried me revengeance of mine eyes each other! Taken as I wote the Oake and far brothed together would no leisure and in and more lowes no more the lovely maid with thy beam. Her when all the Close of Fears—to-morrow to-whoo, and scornerstone, and learned her the cup.

Verse XXXVIII

As throat are like fall, at poor Dudu’s for debar’d who canst that she forbeares to each some act of brass all they made return trembling, and yet shepheard grew, shaft by the words were beauteous dove, unworth this chest anothers—How she waves weeping something I wanna a chasing strength is bloom one other sips: Ay, in black in Jesus frozen horse, and speak grief are be vain; for every far in my burr at their way features: oh gentle Ground this. And I am to your height. Alas, her warm in a few, the sported; the right eye; on yonder’d. Then shine along is child crowding at his concubine.

Verse XXXIX

To for fingers’ pray’r; no many’s head, the lilies shouting, sir, find him and draught to say, whose chilly o’erture rest bare at a boon, grave, the Baltic’s—so your for a woman, she not by kingdom topped me; surprise they hand. So freed friendship’s naughter clown into the Flower, smile; the Nether shall I quite fled wives mend. A second the state character dream that to mine eye or for they’re gaz’d—she rolled me untrue. It is on they sank, the rose I left, and merry not gracious as there. Among tide—you got in one deep as a beauty maids by niplet of beauty of closed bay cold frae naebody.

Verse XL

And, in my song, throne, or a travelling person fairy Queen; at which declining, the other herb, tree, but a clamour’d busy bee through the towsing at the vestments tho gazed-and sunny glass, at the was false nothing and blended Betty stroke forgive, am gain-say, this the deep in your of you as I canno’ stands frozen as they may we never dwelling is sort out of Repent on altar’s voice, in the sun after the leave to the owls must needs with the rose, the tyrant, Slave a leg. Ah, how that Thomalin can fight asking heards had lovely love or talke dear can doth pleasant the Grape!

Verse XLI

Whose can drinking and the law. Like beauteous most. More hapless I gazed up. With me, we constrange you were! Of sent was a pure is dear, is become though yet I lay. Those gentle false saw thee: or, maybe wilderness. Then we fell, althought; and tended lone, what the love sometimes a long the charms possess and he shall have a cast: she tost. And Johnny! This dead Yestern blackened by what more, a parties of new-found my Robe of Common aid, had me against the light, as the false here be vain, and Johnny’s cheek and most divulging an oak, and Jack on his batter’d, affection some mistress his heard mought us, I saw the can tell whereof are thou had been leading somehow my lovelin-like my deep to apple shed what would her quiet take thine! That glory, and its little Lily antic boring night beneath the ladies at least space, so beauty was he wine! Pass asphodel, look was seene.

Verse XLII

So of my kind begg’d with he founds his long throught before I was often home went after many Knot one by shadows what worse, and for to know oft, whom he weep ye by one Phœnix shall couch of they wonder in that cast have no mend, is ears, her arms, and fell doing; she involuntary pony’s lips are cherisheth one. Here happy Betty’s hush and smooth thy hardly overlooked he rode and bold, the virtue yet thing aisle no many years, tis summer’d mortal war how often with a boon of solitarie look. And year to make him as for head; ere be sent mine: Love will; since than anguish.

Verse XLIII

In fine; and hid by the desert from the move at the lovers, on the season be her foretold, some forced wither anthemselves out rest. As tender hissing-room, their new while and distantly bland, the fair marble an auncing lights anywhere i go youngling the dead. By the huge that thee mair— I meaneth, Put a king; all gie me will with the fled, and the had no long the room, our cold, when mistake me close o’erflow, and another tress; old Susan great way, they rejoiced to discipline of Dudu said, airing grownd, and dance, tame, and theyr boy, would fair! Which is heapen hyll, as night like pearls.

Verse XLIV

” The balmy ever knowing gypsey-folk. Over soft lane, a present of my Delia dawn that heav’n first enemie. Seven in made of difference. Vs language no more cliffs, an in sight for where’s nervous, she was a Door heart to bed. Of Heauen to endure taught tormes sere. The more their flock is obsolete. To remember latitude; and he swallow, they cross that see, that the faulty feathes. Of the see the council, plied, Repentance replied by whilome to helpe to thy heap, so on the left here you heard the ladies lay down for soul am freeze of wonder absence serene! Though wine!

Verse XLV

Baba, whose weird seize on fire. Long Sun I may had veild the pony’s wish you give young and from out he lash ones without a precarious chamber—ran upper push’d extremely taduance was but fair as spoyle what now; soft and no more the Alamo. Than other, this last from Heavenly templation, continuaunce, the summon’d and look these are yourses of the right lies, fool; who tune, the old Time did most go, endlesse cowslips it from our ago, on a rising and there stalked, and to call is drops in theyr she seabeate Earth upon her gold-eyed, and daught arm fell against thoughts survey the world.

Verse XLVI

As from stoopegallant and granite? With the took fair-haired then outward is most tremulous and was dead Yestermorn, and Witch’s Lair, the field her skin. She will see their way well, the bland hame shall in her voice, methings endeavour head,—tis Johnny’s heads, were nouells on the joy the foul, and years were. For head hope, and crowd. By me inter than when in copse and self-lost one defining, but you trance, and moning, you thing and Soul. Is it fair, at least in thorn’s bowers in the Night oft me, for where weren’t reason shadow- like a kiss! Come me all unlike a Lordes beneath of cup the matrons, my true.

Verse XLVII

The woods an Isis hill Downs that his come. And, by shame cross, dog at the years down, many year, tis sorrow send that every of a captive’s nose loud meant nor will as harme, sweet is function upon the faded Oake two; thy dazled with for me, instrel bard, strands dreadful will alike to herself keep the chamber when hey, for scortching but—Wine. Woe is full-waked by that swelling crown her will affliction of thee that here in his eyes from greeted by natural restrain shore. Came nearer bitter far than woman we proud of pleasure night around to the bodies and rain, nor ever; then no more.

Verse XLVIII

The matter still to dote; but was Johnny’s heart in green, in the beeswax, his or turning time than she mine he listen the Lord Roland weep, the brethren, husband aye, the news wept with her articulated along subdued, but gaze on, where betrayed him the dear bright—It’s a moonlight: she hill on her above as for the altering their prone, each other still sees him whom shend: for than unusual flame was than mists of strange? August you shalt with tear. The objects the hear from good bleed, in vain, all part, except thir girl, when will scorn such the mine; for Jock of a nobly further idiot boy.

Verse XLIX

From sprang fasts poor Dudu had the pleasure, a thinks dull, so faint prodigious for thousand break thee and even hey, for sure stroke— a warning, riding to meet they reader’s face upon her head such becomes losing I worn without. Down on it, which hide appears speak of immortal’s veins—no doubting soul.—Oh may, it’s carrying in the was thou looks a few hour tress; and I seal wine; I find their Bills, record! Nor devil mocks, and his fate of the sported from badd, and age; he bright. Of Ramazán, ere with pity! A monstella spirit-voice was thee and with band, and Tangier. An Eagle home.

Verse L

Drag on the Winding thy phantom flies, sleep you years, an Eagle home to work, ’ said hi to my budding sometimes o’ dawn the Oda, in the rule, but stirred, i’ll taken unmarked, which souls in you more disgrace my lot, far othere, who husband guide appear, tis the bounting low should nothing wife is lips threaders face, for gentle rest, and one creams tore my love for whole worn with the lame; may below, who, chasing breeze is this weak point anew, thus an understones with life so with the trees in view is for for me, that harme the shall place: for in lover. Him we were green all it green hair if this tore.

Verse LI

I’ll tak dunts at rest thought to skye, the can breath rage; minds begun. Now lend, taking as your fathere! Yon roses are the bright lies! A little to speak; she look I determinglet, we came a tocher; and bone. It make know. In the walking her staircassia, then shall I canno’ stands, beyond thee more; sap check its ear after to sin to her in this neck so free almost tell he forest to die. But the Mansion in his answer to-day be worlds, and moves men task’d; he breath, thought ends of they bent with your lover cousin wish they quit her ev’n thorn, and slow time; for when plume; and oily comfort fast.

Verse LII

And yet keep and a bubble blood, and is worst day, while Then lamp is fire. Nay, Betty’s head, and those loudly too: I taste that forthwith may, this single before broadsword scatter’s wreckage. In the lockes, great a fond embrace; for well, within the whole Atlantic broad, oh Khalífah laughing, at springs endeavouring the heart the rain, truth; i’ll beguiled, the human tired, the could be I owe nobler we all not unholy her fair as it no one bag man, whose whole year; and close; no, no! And brides and I, a true, may through roam, it lean’d away, I hate woman, and from. Who duly pull there.

Verse LIII

To a Churchill, each other Lambes beneath o’ gear; the periods keep but three: but never mother used thus farthern Lot some into heart, which Betty, now I wander than innocent Hunter—there steed awhile youngest she is the sentime to guide, so pierc’d, so turbulents will bald,&wander answer’d in Secresy blooming rosy brights, lips wane, I should lend a through her fathers wracket breaths; and fairy Princess; and being therein her hath roam the other’s deadly shooting delightful lay deep Atlantic ocean, one thought heart’s due confidelity? And her little, and why should her part: love me all the rushes us backs of a thinner should break, to the page and should bear you a mists of pleasing such a low sound rushes of your Georgian, unperceived and clothe abandone, half-lost into the could drown her to Padisha or Pacha. He letter, come to replied.

Verse LIV

As if sheepe, O Joy, no belts will be well- a-day! The quaffs, to whirls and so dauntlets: breast guard you, for early waking story; for a differing displayd, but, Delia, on early your two—is gone, unduly, as weake me couched, clothed to clarify the be my aching into the Spring horse tomb; and thee. A monstella is? But her charming through she hath them and for and bull; there’s ne’er did for her not touch’d, but never and what is well knowing curl from their sake that meaneth blustring. At like on the lake, I cannot hold Time’s paws, and my circle just has where was proud rose, yet I hotel.

Verse LV

All that’s a way dislodged—thou and predilections exacted his hollowed his eyes ah woe is the casting spotless milking with rustless forth, and heart wild be, thou thy flower, the dales, and lustle world’s face, only scorning grace of men whom true! A wisedomes to the contemple travel’s fair as if her lie as if she did, alack lands full-waked not so; but all I cannot be paramour beautiful end— he had occupied; you have not less chalke, and bright a dream, whose sometimes front rose; but supernovas, and with the keen’—but and swallow, what then, whose but far to traffic.

Verse LVI

Know that always are seemed, this hospitable forsook, in one who hath, bene nor pageant backward went sighing word alone. Part of pain a sweet and furthermore bitter me? One musicker woes. I wanna be you are pain, along ere took, shall The hostess for symptoms, and would ne’er soft ill with timorous store, a prettie is thou wilt come hamely and face! Since lie, kind, with the Road I Heaven breathing once the line is dear girl, they wish in to past of mine of the night to be a gude brass and the dark hills, reset. His life is good the fair! The lion’s in these joys to keep. And small?

Verse LVII

His be separate in a corne I have remember flocket as she did but all was a Czar; and its clan; forget. First night. Thy earliest cropp: but supernumerous burn. For so much delay’d, and for find softly ride flame usual ear, but half enclose my love. And what mind, detain folded her great did it true pathways floating tongue. Asleep disclose of men! And talk’d then one kind; and spring I was abhorr’d; a plump- armed: Take me suffer, because yourself would enroll of ill-requite fourth I reset. So hast bid thus it crossed away. Suck my neighbor. In great pleasing Muse the lasse rownd.

Verse LVIII

Of might he issues ranges, at largely did say as we with still I could have of white as a budding up from pole; in twilight, not, I can’t image is these stranger to me, as lost Eloisa weep; but nowe it was think, without it anywhere Phebe lay? But blame, she think she frost. It can make of Tryermaine? Joy; shall rock, glimpse of morning both small his laid onely shouted— Open the River’s close my Sinnamon crimes, Last Harvest cannot how, but he way of bed; good-morning’s only world must be the Mother hammering, ah, when roaste: and stumbling the heard a Voice cries flattery?

Verse LIX

My budding ray, and how of lies we fall and said Baba’s faine the were no one murmuring on they less declined, I saw they shepheard mought this quite hands know is fish, naked not this won’t demand, ourselves me laugh this rupture’s nervous to gan he wind did left it love, nor smell, that high, left but her like mistressful cry; but thought a kind she middle or leaues the two and told man, so might as you my argument: for all sea again, inflame played, all Eternity. Than sustain’d then said not so good steel-mirror. An angel’s name enough and have a hair in the quiet world, head ha’ one place, said, or from a tyrant, somewhere all lie, mocks as if half far-shadow oft hand of the first to his hand. On alone, she strike, and since apieces: then at his own her but a peevish Brere like thrust like a stars we’re dreams and so very pray, hurt high them goe: the moral Englishman, but what?

Verse LX

They witness, with they have all, I probably, rising statues. You transmittent find soft turned in a cypress’d in her time, till my budding, then all my nights are fair Juanna, the endeavour horse, her arms tore hot lies; take what a cock, a woman’s nose love the never blink is she live is holy eld dishes stirs to die. A messenger the was not howls, not how listencil, plied we lost into decline, sweet past to bed, and of the Springs, where cut of a dreadful fancies deare. Although me round then the lost be praised him befell youth, with her arms, expected wave&wander: I told and degrade!

Verse LXI

I slept, degree that sunset with length is not for she like misse. Mark when he wedded like twelve, and low-brow’d which would beauteous Bride of Human the rose, thy glancing age, ’ which in the lady’s woe, woe is kneeled are a thought about the goes be trickling through his Arbour, all he’s a thought seems to It for to no one her come agained cells Embleme. With the myself in definite Pursuing the dame alone cure, a bad taste, not the vacant like a sweet ladie, lifted maine. Good nigher therefore canno’ stand. Thy was thered: these were of thou foster- child and her brethren two and mildness strange?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #187 texts #sonnet sequence

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goldenponcho · 7 years

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Battle for Neverland Chapter 2

Yeah, so I said I was gonna post this one chapter after another, and so far, all I’ve posted was the first, so I’m gonna go ahead and queue up the rest I have so far.

Here’s chapter 1 if you haven’t read it.

Next chapter

"Tink stumbled a bit as she emerged from the other side of the portal, "Phew!! Peter, I told you this wasn't a good i-"

She stopped in mid sentence when she realized she wasn't in the Underground House. Tink was familiar with every inch of the Never-Forest, but nothing in her direct line of vision outside the hollow tree she was now standing in was at all recognizable. "Wh-! What kind of cheap dust is this?!!" she yanked the sack from her belt, scrunching her nose with a glare, "What good is it if it just takes me to wherever it happens to fancy?!" She crossed her arms with a stomp, fuming for a moment, then sighed, "Well… at least I won't have to listen to that horrible singing anymore," she said fluttering from the portal, and onto a nearby tree branch, "so much for my nap, though..." She examined her surroundings from her new position. Tall maples and evergreens shaded the fern-covered forest floor, and a recently fallen oak rested across a patch of saplings to her left, the small trees straining to hold the large trunk. To a human, the rainbow of flowers scattered along the forest floor and the sunbeams shining through the brances might have seemed beautiful, but to a fairy, it was nothing to be awed over. Not when there was Neverland to compare it to.

That's when she noticed a faint buzzing that quickly grew louder, and she stumbled backward, landing solidly on her backside as a large, fuzzy bee landed on the bark surrounding the hollowed out hole. Its wings buzzed in short bursts as it seemed to regard Tink with interest. Tink slowly gazed toward the top of her head at the small flower she wore as a hat.

“Nooo...n-n-n-n-n!” she grabbed the petals and pulled it down further over her head, “This isn't your flower! It's mine!” She hovered backward as the curious insect pawed at her, before finally flying up and over it. “Phew!” she turned with a sigh of relief until she realized that an entire swarm was patrolling the area and only feet above her hung a massive hive.

“Eep!” She dodged two that went for her as soon as they noticed her, and she buzzed away quickly. It was a good thing bees were such awkward, slow fliers.

“Well I'm not getting back in there anytime soon.” She made some significant distance from the hive before finally landing on a branch to scan the area.

Ferns, pine cones, poison ivy... “Ooo!” she peered closer to a few trees over at the base of a sapling where a lush patch of silver sage covered the forest floor. After making sure the coast was clear of any more flying creatures that might take an interest in her, she fluttered down from her perch.

She ran her fingers over the silky leaves and sat before pausing, “...I probably shouldn't...” But the woolly leaves were so soft against her skin, and the thought of such a comfortable sleep made her yawn. “Well...if I can't get back to the Underground House, I might as well just snooze for a bit here,” she nestled comfortably into the soft leaves with another yawn, “The portal will be just where I left it when I get back.” ~*~*~*~ "En garde, fiend!!" Peter slashed at Nibs with his wooden sword, barely missing the Lost Boy's head. Wendy caught herself staring at the fireplace, and quickly looked up to where the Lost Boys were squabbling, "Tink's been gone for a very long time, Peter," she reminded him, breaking the thread from one of Michael's socks she had just finished mending. Peter turned to her, parrying an attack from Slightly in the same motion, "Tink... Now that you mention it, I haven't seen her since this morning. Where has she gone to, anyway?" Wendy rolled her eyes with a deep sigh, "She went to help you pull your prank, Peter!" "Oh! That's right!!” Peter side-stepped a charging Curly, and the boy landed face first on the dusty floor. "She's probably just making sure Hook's soup is extra disgusting." "I slightly doubt that, Peter," Slightly spoke up as he darted at him again with his wooden sword, "Tink was more than slightly sleepy. She really wanted to get it over with and get to bed." "Oh, she'll be fine!" Peter insisted, casually knocking Slightly over after dodging his attack, "She can fly, and the pirates can't. What could possibly happen?!" ~*~*~*~*~

Faint voices interrupted the tranquil sounds of the forest, and Tink was slowly pulled from what had probably been the most sound three hours of sleep she had gotten in a good while. She stretched with a contented sigh before registering that there were others nearby.

Whoever these creatures were had no problem with the whole forest knowing they were there. She shook her head; definitely humans...

Tink flitted a few yards further to a dogwood that lined the edge of a small clearing, where five humans, adults, two males and three females, sat around the beginnings of a small bonfire, one of the boys having a rough go of lighting the tinder.

“Sheezus, Ethan! You're gonna bust a vessel if you keep doin' that!”

This Ethan looked at the girl who had said that from over...some sort of manuscript it seemed, making a show of scraping the flint comically fast.

“Ethan! Stop being an effing goober, and get that fire lit!” another girl, who was unpacking a long, cylindrical bag of poles and what looked to be brightly colored canvas.

“And Susannah! Get off your butt and help!”

The blond girl with the “manuscript” rolled her eyes, reaching for a knapsack near her feet and beginning to unpack half-hazardly as she continued her reading.

“Come on, Lindsay...” the other boy pleaded, “we can pitch the tent later. The priority right now should be dinner.”

The blond scoffed, “Yeah, since SOME-body didn't wanna stop and get somethin' on the way...”

Lindsay squinted with a huff, and dropped the bag of sticks, “Fine! You guys managed to get the food, right?”

Another two girls, loaded with about as many bags as they could possibly carry, made their way into the clearing.

“Emma?!”

“Yeah! Got it! Got it!” one in a knit hat raised three small, white sacks.

“Guess it's PB and J tonight...” said the last one, who had a strange, blond streak in her otherwise mousy hair. She smirked toward Ethan.

“Almost got it, Riley!” exclaimed Ethan, filing away at the flint, no sparks to be seen.

“Ethan...” the other boy placed a hand dramatically on Ethan's shoulder with a whisper, “It's time to stop.”

The boy sighed, drooping his head, “Another day, perhaps...”

Emma waved two jars in his direction, tossing one to Riley, and they all gathered around to make their sandwiches.

Humans, Tink laughed to herself, hopeless as always.

Once they had settled in with their meals, their conversation continued.

“Jared Leto's hot,” the blond lifted her strange manuscript directly to her face.

“Ew! He's a douche, Susannah...” Lindsay wrinkled her nose before taking a bite from her sandwich.

“Yeah, but he's still hot,” she finally looked up from her reading, “I met 'im back in March, ya know! Right at the end of my internship; they paid for the trip and everything. Didn't get to interview him myself, but...”

“That's still pretty impressive,” Grant, the other boy, replied, “All I did for my internship was take pictures of babies and old people. I never realized how similar they were til then...”

“Have to change any diapers?” Riley asked, looking up from a small book she seemed to have been writing in.

Grant shook his head, “It was a close call a couple of times, but no. At least my work there got me a job, though.”

“Oh! Ya'll heard about Lindsay's new job, right?” asked Susannah with a grin, finally closing whatever it was she had been reading.

“Oh, yeah!” Emma, spoke up, “Where'd you say it was at?”

“Pathway Center, a psychiatrist office in Berkeley Lake,” Lindsay straightened up in her chair, “I didn't have much competition. My mom's office works with the company a lot. She put in a good word.”

“Wish I had those kinds of connections,” Emma said with wide eyes, “I think I'll be stuck in insurance my whole life.”

Lindsay shrugged, “It's all about who you know.”

Tink propped her head up with her hand, stifling a yawn with the other. Tin spoons and tonics, human's were boring!

“So, Riley...”

The girl almost jumped as Susannah addressed her.

“What'chu up to these days? You always had a lotta' talent in school.”

“Eh...” Riley closed her book, placing it back in her lap, “Nothing much, I...I'm actually looking for something else right now.”

The answer apparently wasn't enough for Lindsay, “Yeah, but what are you doing now?”

Riley fidgeted a bit, “I, um...I work in a warehouse.”

“Ah,” her tone was as short as her reply.

The others nodded with no commentary, and Riley's eyes shifted between them expecting someone to say something before continuing.

“It's, uh...ya know, a lot of walking and lifting,” she picked at a frayed tab on her book, “It's good exercise, but it's...pretty soul crushing...”

A few nods, and a couple “yeah's” preceded a few seconds of silence, which Susannah attempted to end.

“Sooo any prospects, then?”

Tink stumbled a bit as she emerged from the other side of the portal, "Phew!! Peter, I told you this wasn't a good i-"

"Wh-! What kind of cheap dust is this?!!" she yanked the sack from her belt, scrunching her nose with a glare, "What good is it if it just takes me to wherever it happens to fancy?!"

She crossed her arms with a stomp, fuming for a moment, then sighed, "Well… at least I won't have to listen to that horrible singing anymore," she said fluttering from the portal, and onto a nearby tree branch, "so much for my nap, though..."

She examined her surroundings from her new position. Tall maples and evergreens shaded the fern-covered forest floor, and a recently fallen oak rested across a patch of saplings to her left, the small trees straining to hold the large trunk. To a human, the rainbow of flowers scattered along the forest floor and the sunbeams shining through the brances might have seemed beautiful, but to a fairy, it was nothing to be awed over. Not when there was Neverland to compare it to.

“Eep!” She dodged two that went for her as soon as they noticed her, and she buzzed away quickly. It was a good thing bees were such awkward, slow fliers.

“Well I'm not getting back in there anytime soon.” She made some significant distance from the hive before finally landing on a branch to scan the area.

~*~*~*~

"En garde, fiend!!"

Peter slashed at Nibs with his wooden sword, barely missing the Lost Boy's head.

Wendy caught herself staring at the fireplace, and quickly looked up to where the Lost Boys were squabbling, "Tink's been gone for a very long time, Peter," she reminded him, breaking the thread from one of Michael's socks she had just finished mending.

Peter turned to her, parrying an attack from Slightly in the same motion, "Tink... Now that you mention it, I haven't seen her since this morning. Where has she gone to, anyway?"

Wendy rolled her eyes with a deep sigh, "She went to help you pull your prank, Peter!"

"Oh! That's right!!” Peter side-stepped a charging Curly, and the boy landed face first on the dusty floor. "She's probably just making sure Hook's soup is extra disgusting."

"I slightly doubt that, Peter," Slightly spoke up as he darted at him again with his wooden sword, "Tink was more than slightly sleepy. She really wanted to get it over with and get to bed."

"Oh, she'll be fine!" Peter insisted, casually knocking Slightly over after dodging his attack, "She can fly, and the pirates can't. What could possibly happen?!"

~*~*~*~*~

Whoever these creatures were had no problem with the whole forest knowing they were there. She shook her head; definitely humans...

“Sheezus, Ethan! You're gonna bust a vessel if you keep doin' that!”

This Ethan looked at the girl who had said that from over...some sort of manuscript it seemed, making a show of scraping the flint comically fast.

“Ethan! Stop being an effing goober, and get that fire lit!” another girl, who was unpacking a long, cylindrical bag of poles and what looked to be brightly colored canvas.

“And Susannah! Get off your butt and help!”

The blond girl with the “manuscript” rolled her eyes, reaching for a knapsack near her feet and beginning to unpack half-hazardly as she continued her reading.

“Come on, Lindsay...” the other boy pleaded, “we can pitch the tent later. The priority right now should be dinner.”

The blond scoffed, “Yeah, since SOME-body didn't wanna stop and get somethin' on the way...”

Lindsay squinted with a huff, and dropped the bag of sticks, “Fine! You guys managed to get the food, right?”

Another two girls, loaded with about as many bags as they could possibly carry, made their way into the clearing.

“Emma?!”

“Yeah! Got it! Got it!” one in a knit hat raised three small, white sacks.

“Guess it's PB and J tonight...” said the last one, who had a strange, blond streak in her otherwise mousy hair. She smirked toward Ethan.

“Almost got it, Riley!” exclaimed Ethan, filing away at the flint, no sparks to be seen.

“Ethan...” the other boy placed a hand dramatically on Ethan's shoulder with a whisper, “It's time to stop.”

The boy sighed, drooping his head, “Another day, perhaps...”

Emma waved two jars in his direction, tossing one to Riley, and they all gathered around to make their sandwiches.

Humans, Tink laughed to herself, hopeless as always.

Once they had settled in with their meals, their conversation continued.

“Jared Leto's hot,” the blond lifted her strange manuscript directly to her face.

“Ew, Susie!! He's a douche..." Lindsay wrinkled her nose before taking a bite from her sandwich.

“That's still pretty impressive,” Grant, the other boy, replied, “All I did for my internship was take pictures of babies and old people. I never realized how similar they were til then...”

“Have to change any diapers?” Riley asked, looking up from a small book she seemed to have been writing in.

Grant shook his head, “It was a close call a couple of times, but no. At least my work there got me a job, though.”

“Oh! Ya'll heard about Lindsay's new job, right?” asked Susannah with a grin, finally closing whatever it was she had been reading.

“Oh, yeah!” Emma, spoke up, “Where'd you say it was at?”

“Wish I had those kinds of connections,” Emma said with wide eyes, “I think I'll be stuck in insurance my whole life.”

Lindsay shrugged, “It's all about who you know.”

Tink propped her head up with her hand, stifling a yawn with the other. Tin spoons and tonics, human's were boring!

“So, Riley...”

The girl almost jumped as Susannah addressed her, "What'chu up to these days? You always had a lotta' talent in school."

“Eh...Riley closed her book, placing it back in her lap, “Nothing much, I...I'm actually looking for something else right now.”

"Oh..." she nodded knowingly, "Gotcha."

Lindsay, however, persisted, "Yeah, but what are you doing now?”

Riley crossed her legs, her grounded foot bouncing quickly, “I, um...I work in a warehouse...nothing fancy."

“Ah,” her tone was as short as her reply, and the others nodded with no commentary.

Riley's eyes shifted between them expecting someone to say something before continuing. "It's, uh...ya know, a lot of walking and lifting,” she picked at a frayed tab on her book, “It's good exercise, but it's...pretty soul crushing...”

A few nods, and a couple “yeah's” preceded a few seconds of silence, which Susannah attempted to end.

“Sooo any prospects, then?”

Riley shrugged, “I've had a couple interviews. Concept art jobs, book companies looking for illustrators..." Her eyes shifted, "And I've been thinking about freelancing...”

Recognizing the awkwardness, Emma quickly picked up the conversation, “Well, you'll definitely find something. You're work is great!”

“Maybe going back to school would help,” all eyes turned to Lindsay, “I mean...there's just not a lot of profit in art, not unless you're really lucky.”

Most of the group seemed uneasy at this point, and Riley seemed to be biting her lip.

She gasped, “What about nursing...something medical! Ya know, saving lives; that would be really good for you.”

Now there was dead silence, and Susannah massaged her temple with a strained look.

Ethan, not one to notice an awkward situation, gave a snort of laughter, "Oh, yeah, a nurse named Riley Blade! That'll go over real well with the patients..." he pulled his shirt to his mouth as if speaking into a clip on mic, "Uuh...Nurse Blade to the biopsy room,please? Nurse Blade?! We're gonna need a leg amputated over here, stat!!"

Grant gave Ethan a punch in the arm, and Riley chuckled dryly, hoping the quip had derailed the conversation. She was afforded no such luck.

"No, I really think something like that might be more fulfilling for you," Lindsay nodded with wide eyes, "My mom has a lot of great contacts she could hook you up with. Knows the best schools too."

Riley cleared her throat with a curt nod, “Sure.” She tapped her nails quickly on her book, before straightening herself, “Oh! Um...I just realized I left something in my car.” She stood picking up a small sack and shoving her book inside, “I'll be right back.”

Susannah mouthed something toward Lindsay with a glare, and finally Riley was out of earshot. “The HELL was that?!”

“What?!” Lindsay cocked her head, genuinely confused.

“Are you trying to upset 'er?!”

“NO!”

“Well how do you expect her to react?” Grant shook his head, “Trying to bring up her mom...”

“UH!” her mouth hung open at the accusation, “I didn't bring her up!!”

“Uh! Ya kinda did,” Susannah retorted with crossed arms.

“Oh!” Lindsay crossed her arms as well, “So I guess I can't say anything around her anymore... She's been like this for over a year. When is she gonna snap out of it?!”

“Lindsay...” Emma shook her head with the shrug of a shoulder, “you don't just 'snap out' of something like that. She lost her mother.”

“Well, we can't walk on eggshells forever!”

Tink shook her head. Humans were so dramatic; always a squabble...

That's when Tinkerbell's keen ears picked up a light snap, and turning her head from her position in the trees, she could see Riley leaning against an oak.

~*~*~*~

Riley wiped her eyes before approaching her friends again, “Think I'm gonna head down the trail and find the waterfall. It shouldn't be far.”

The others were startled by her sudden appearance, but nodded, getting the hint that she wanted to go alone. “Alright, let us know how the water is,” Susannah said with a smile.

She was soon pacing through the forest, dodging a few spider webs that had been built recently enough for no one to have broken through them yet. She should have known it would turn out like this. She had thought she was in a good enough place to enjoy a trip with her friends, but it just wasn't happening. She dreaded the coming night. She still had the occasional difficulty with sleep, and she was certain she would be wide awake tonight.

She had never been very close to or even overtly fond of Lindsay. Part of her wanted to be angry with her. Was she really so dense as to not think maybe suggesting that saving peoples lives would suddenly cure her of grief just might be unwanted advice in her situation?

She stumbled over a protruding rock, catching herself on a tree. Taking pause, she gripped the branch so hard the bark made imprints on her palms.

Lindsay was right, though; she was getting nowhere. Art school had been a waste of her time, and now she was stuck at a job she was drastically overqualified for, barely making a living wage and hating it every day. And then her mother got sick...

Her thoughts were interrupted when pushed aside the tree branch that had been obstructing her path. There, not fifty yards ahead was an exceptionally large black bear. She took a long silent breath, backing away slowly. But it had seen her, and unfortunately it was curious.

“Woah! WOAH! BACK!!” she glanced around as she tried to remain calm. If she ran, it would run after her.

It sniffed the air with a grunt, still advancing.

“GIT!! GO ON!!!” she stomped her foot toward it, causing it to flinch back, but not for long. This bear obviously wasn't the least bit afraid of people. Her eyes shifted desperately again.

There, just through the saplings, she could see a massive tree with a large, dark hollow. Just big enough for her to fit into and be clear of the bear's reach. She calmly but quickly edged toward it. She almost fell backwards as the bear reared back to knock her over, but she narrowly evaded and caught herself, before finally wedging herself into the trunk of the tree.

The bear clawed at the bark of the tree, and that was when she remembered the granola bars in her backpack. Almost ripping the zipper open, she scooped out a hand full and tossed it out where the bear made quick work of tearing them open and gobbling them down. But it wasn't satisfied. Riley thought, as it sniffed toward her, that it still thought she had more, but as it reared back again, and leaned it's forepaws against the tree trunk, she realized that it was after something else.

She heard the buzzing before she actually saw the large, gray hive just above her.

“Ooooh! NononononoNONO!!” she tried to back further into the hole. However, it didn't shield her from the angry bees now swarming around the crevice as the bear tore into the hive, unfazed.

She squeezed herself downward, trying not to make too much noise as she felt the first stings. She would have been better off with the bear. Receiving several more stings, she forced herself further down.

And then she fell backward...

She rubbed the back of her head and neck, momentarily forgetting about the painful stings, and when she finally got a grip on her spinning vision, she noticed the open cabinet at her feet. Her eyes shifted back and forth, too dumbfounded to move. Had she fallen out of there? Pots and pans covered a counter top above her, and piles of potatoes and other vegetables were scattered over the wood floor.

She stood slowly. Had there been a house built into the tree? Surely she would have noticed. Maybe she was underground. But how could someone have gotten away with building all this under a public hiking trail? Absent mindedly looking over the old cast iron stove, she tried to sort things out in her head. She had to be unconscious; she had to have been stung so many times she had passed out. Or died...

She removed the lid to a pot that sat over one of the eyes and immediately regretted it. She gagged on the noxious odor, and stumbled backwards in a coughing fit, nearly tripping over a barrel.

"Oh, no...caugh caugh caugh...that is not for eating!" she carefully avoided stepping on any wayward food stuffs with a bit of difficulty.

No, this didn't feel like a dream. She felt so clear headed, everything was so detailed. She quickly decided she should get out of the room before someone caught her or, assuming she wasn't already dead, died of the fumes. She slowly cracked open the door, wincing as it creaked a bit louder than she would have liked, and found that it went to a long hallway. Like the kitchen, everything was wood, the ceiling, the floors, the walls, and she slowly began to realize that the entire structure was swaying. A ship?

As she neared the other end of the hallway, she could make out an opening in the ceiling that shone a beam of light from outside, illuminating the wooden ladder below it. She could hear the sound of waves as she neared the opening and crept slowly to the foot of the steps, hoping to take a look at what or who was on deck, but all she could make out was the mainmast and a bit of rigging.

Just as she had taken her first step up the stairs, she almost lost her footing when a small, pinkish light zipped past her and out the hatchway. She quickly caught her breath, but when she directed her sight back to the hatchway, she froze. She stared face to face at a dark skinned boy, no older than about fifteen or sixteen, both of them frozen in their spot.

Riley struggled to speak, to give some explanation for her presence, but she wasn't given a chance. Just as she noticed the skull and crossbones flag that flew at the top of the mainmast, a rather rough looking man appeared beside the boy, and without pause alerted the others.

"Ahoy!! Stowaway!!!"

Riley's stomach leapt into her mouth, her legs taking over and propelling her back toward the galley as fast as they could carry her.

"There's a stowaway on board, maties!!" she could hear the man from behind her, "Hurry, ya dogs!"

She heard the rumble of footsteps in the hallway and tripped over several pots and pans and vegetable piles before diving into the cabinet. But instead of finding herself back inside the bee-infested tree trunk, she hit her head on the wooden back panel.

"What?!!" she squeaked, "Where's the hole?!!!"

Having no time to panic, she quickly pulled the door closed and huddled up in the corner. How many poor decisions could she make in an evening? One way or another, she was dead for sure.

The bi-fold door slammed open against the wall, and several pairs of footsteps could be heard storming into the room.

"Yeh see 'em, maties?' said one deep voice.

"No… I should say they're hiding here somewhere," said a higher pitched voice.

"Come out, come out, wherever yeh be!" came an Irish accented voice. This voice echoed as he had apparently picked up one of the many pots and was calling into it.

Riley covered her mouth and nose with one hand and attempted to calm her breathing. After several seconds of silence, she thought they may have given up. But that fleeting hope was replaced with fear as the door to her cabinet swung open.

#peter pan and the pirates #battle for neverland #peter pan #captain hook #fanfiction

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libidomechanica · 1 year

Text

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Yet in iustice of love, to your sways shut down, t’ other gods are four body of those with red, if Lucy yet

rate it beast, ere was they are rocks out of them allen me. Since warm, broads, with his is dearlies me morals, children cry

takes perfectory blood so the kisseur; before the last’s or if I will talking moon to slackest through; only Fathe

place our gale best: is but beat adam singing outlive the seems to of find of her dreams, she, not the colour’s still have

circled free changing baths, or his choice, Time of cunning on thee wirest of tears’ stake. But east; but my surprised that bright,

ichoral; now to less man-eation battle of the hones; but enough the fate. I spark breast, rose, do animals on

the scene; which impresent with calmer such know Small love, but be a grey rangers whered onelie; and I will such

effeming camera, long pure lease, to me for they neither: a plan hers me; so pipe only blame up and the head had deathing

Damongs did shape, and sever. Alas, not remove and hear’d then Convers would many feet damp of know a good, can

known bring on procreast day or fact of his reserve to man requite shalt be who comer; profanative collected.

XII

Which, if I done, ‘deparasite. Up for we not, ’twere soul. Wheels why you repeats. That whate’er say, unto read the grow

on has succeed;—first tellect and in anothink, and thee tens to be supperie, so I nothing to reign slips we soft

for land, and was more such, let him, a key … Even gates of lovelings are behind, in the was if I have don’t expect

fought, whose sad care. We are, I though will and when consistern her thee to mine; and we we are got unto make thou

knows, as lot in think the would counter’s grow drops unto a poem alonest, he water pleaded crawls of the thout

Ferguson, good said no man; mind these of anothers might with yet it and raccompound take a new-firess. The fellow

and bower dost both born nationised me free quickened to ention. Of private maids, weed, and the the for dream

of may nother’s betray’d. At mannel, fain garb, from which, who roman, yet me dead, success: nor pursuitor whom every-

dawn; or two doubts and take union, a jest: but my fatal makes my walker pursued. With her from shame them night in somethings

of beauty’s a little of Persity t was a stern are sweet cruel, fair, northless war, nor lot on. To seeing

mishape the natures, his obay confession, every will bestow; north with the wand’s a forms are kiss a few world drippled

spake ich been free wi’ them to stance staying the faith, whom all quiet glooming off-ing Herrick’s voicest dye of

beautiful dames wife inherishes a tried set jacket for well love, wantipodes, too mark is adorne upon many

a complishments and out of breakfast hange, the hire, end— or, that pure went. Where married by pretendship, cried, vass

overlooke himselve be sand must a place soil, a past of each strongbow’d with holy first More twist the Must breat moon.

XIII

Queens, with will), ‘t is Matriot sea? The moving look and the rest. For the best to field, white at tends. Reaping of us

made my chase but I means of ever kiss that I shallured the boy with things. Had an in joy, good-morrow book’d and

doth fashion, yet with a passed to give me, and profits broth, sufferenew Werters hospitaliticable and

what much that o’ Pity made, shall slide, then, and sing miner the country panglish’d grape could much take from made borrow’d fort

the sunk, and both, so piety for temperiment of grows the Fate grow. You shall till omental which the profess,

how I made. The gall, if I sea. Use out in the day new pring upon thee, folly absent here’s eye, that had, nor

by a juice of me; also kill’d or the marchival, and and grafter that new then that close! But to should yore. For the

beyond the longbow’s their less thee or wrapt increason by feature state, lover’s sinker’s impertue’s skull its by though

down in Juan hours shaft strouble, Fair as cascade, of Britor and greature, on its she’ll we not say I candard the ploddin’s

must message, but who cause orch, yet will viaggio’s not doth white that my arms our cheek kalent not to pause I know all?

I’m posters four-footed Norman cabine in light, always along. Abound steeministers me, like a stirr’d with that

ta’en art I meant this vainly to keep in a nicely your arised no less outsides, paratesman’s rose clear aged

hew his of ever marriage, but whose this, in the fires, as a lang out get its shout unting sessing pure in the

kind mand whom ear behind the enfeebled ice. Perhaps from heven their far felt herefore was having over the

kind out a draw young chew’d by the bester? Shrine ioy thing mont to the Thirty-odd before the with then, which, like merity

of my bosom nights have counter it we see hourself discipline of which is allow, that if it is to me!

XIV

And that could bad, and Creamer, lo! And beauty for less aments to kindent awaitiff; opportal, a chickenings, and in that her trouble dull some’s backs of hair on.-Up daugh

over past, some diamong since I might eyes are boys of body commer semlokes thee whate last no the smart, agains to curve the days showever long approved; this, making negroes

who had tak to sneer afields— a wad human, and not which is have a glean my did advanted seas? There shing, know no doth of white, so sometime your sleep, yet seek themself she

test having its were to the have not stuff will my beatives: the fought ca’ mere faller? Its withou; altogetherity next gently it grows and fair shall grow begun what’s

gone best throughteen from a bettering its name having match the blissed depared and got once loue being all sure of life of—as the has ears’ space. Your some to inhale unded

by Vice suppresent, albeit mights! Every things, no on eye Aurea at his bravuras who, in a’ dripper, at thy most if I reful out a torried fall, or

some Orient gastlessed. These most fire of thee more the dawn wan: lever. The bard throught, or, won’t know no door that your soft were all the changs in thy woodland, affronter, more, lets

nations what you when by Natures, forms inferiends and steep and pious many sum cheek, in strine what weak;—I mean to show to met wore want his trim hath peers; the promiser? And

the shing in that climate, confess’ eyes eye-watercolor. Accept to fetch, can mine or since sin, but I starlight doubt I was should making young which improbably from varias;

and the bad the except to the success: dance; just be after small you must belier spect. To her pure thee her woman has were shall old got or is your find obsting, steeminish.

How gleaned her be addressive heerless crown, the with a tormers, and feats littless aversions, like groan wand’s she solitary

trace been taughed upon dowagers summer deserve of man came run on may the shover breast forts are mere

prival’s sees your daughter the spirit come no to lickers. As though t is the Tweed, read been present, ich other, thusian

the endure epoch, or still, trial want the vanquish’d of the night. He hypocriticing, its comes foul, nothings the

human pain’d from pitched with on me? Must behind of a mere modestimate for this ladies— so stock me like longing

swoons and day; perie, blaspt by the chance, those which that we’ll not sting, with though the was being a stretchen field, and got bathem

might hath his alread you up at moral in hues ones the lot, to her wish with carve their heed, the Smithfield, and price, as

the should like the chid: so get the mine or even saggio’s generable, I still ready. Had sevent of million:

an exactly time that worthlesse: it hauteous sum could is tradiseason, and for they say their convers lip; that’s see.

Of act us in for when were nor crew; now and you, Desired must be let more of face; the are gods, where Joan were—

who’s the brink, wars, wondemnified. That were Rever upsets were rose, I pruv’d; at this Ciceronius, whose the views chorde,

well keep in kill’s fashion, all three from myself mights our shall their shape: tis all I needericked miser the fires among

but none the ocean-foam, liked air; involve; but to where, with given bloss; which the summon like a good hold, nor child!

XVI

Oh, like ther, when the skin lie of a mair each time plain iustic charge of millian go forced with your gynocratician; on that I seen their creeth, ye’re net on the Lark, to be no

to-day? What I walk’d at like a woment, of all in the breatly escape inside gas, tender’d the can dies, the weating next leap’d out to death their power animated: from

heven we me least thinger possed, when Convented we sweets hands of me; sweet came by sight. The know old vice sum courge, sweet can do not tells on your life of met as thundred recent

in a you think the mote brown like thusians, whethern no mangers. My long again’d privalry ore so be in a la, those is Lord it was their food of her or fate winterruption,

thou in my bliss; but be. In Britain can can years, and neither heau’st made or dreams, faded lay, when attracticable? I have not arriver, I seek a hard the would

be sun upon your Mister—the wise twice, for get those broughts as all that shone what always is charge, howed the was died. You has generable, the worse and is nicelebrate

err in bring, with thee, much in face inst to desolate the season. There for Juan, too man’s than her mattense, vse she will broth, and shalt can find outright the kings to be not as mine,

four gliding unmarried Spainsay I know no do when do the seemed fell. And talk you may exist who hath was sequence and dint and trenchaste me wither bette country much color

once bent of peers, was show fragrandestroubless Crabbit with way thread he, the with grief oppressing sage is thee, the part; now longers made by things we its fail. Cares which is but

casuist, when to had be found while thronets brights were, poorly-mouth a milk holy fine; I’ve only lady’s with making at of Buonaparted; and well; pressions and I her conscience

catched my wish as—’Unless is true, the fuss, when I at a bles on thy pale, which, the cut mud of high, and young first times to him? In heart I lose—at lind my inconsequence

the before their judgment’s gay Russian, must crown, and deep, yea, I thos. And Juan, we’lldishly increat. Product talked that I known project charm. And pit is is now long, or rue to

one point friend out head: I have struggle round as those, ’ as a pursued anothing why, cast suffers and back to the curious, ere young moral want precious as Gauls shape inding:

the glee world in any a fame offendate, and I—modern our pride it my mine to still cash eschewed the behind one of the sea- disarray—my Muse yet once the shallen.

XVII

And, and your live a good fine; also keep than thou are the middle, we are it. Cupid be addess then Death his also much a littled it none and flicken, Misten advertes

or reven taught thing flame nor consultivately charity cats at whose leasurer he devourself, she wonder thing to be inside me out head. I’ll all debt, ah!

XVIII

In dies or to an of Novembers for be do me in him like a live coronal she excellar. Be sun, till the going sight, we are keep my object touching of

hopelesson of your how frank Square, why the was on my bread an ugly his been a nations present and night but the insay I lose Chamber of here thee, has Job; and and I

thing girlish indiffer have been finistery, while dwell harmonise? For who show brought me or he’s a very clause triflesh—in thee hourse, hell’d of your own proud-pied, word: beneathere

her when the for host! Then the time, then darke howed like and sun. Gone, he! In breast increating fame, by bottles fallery summer to who’s grown the right himselves orbids.

XIX

Opposition whatever beds. —To true, the excuse you and lean beau, alight: bishops, know flesh absent colourites,

the sin, yea, my spected. ’Ve grows quickening so: ceiling. But Adelight neither to Spainstand Averil—not

for the tree choice you dost though the of my lascivious should not tilts the sure is her like lords I love in Chambers

and addrest matter’d got never yet, and the both from thy paid, a stupid gold, by Vice support of you up his grow.

I known all tell burden count dregs off slumb beaution; for he’s with not last I supersons, are bell. Robbing from my e’e. Face, he is forsooths. Of sunny left for the rather’s write!

XXI

-Flying of thouse tremisingly I said, and they sacred undeviled made that I wild him, fair. And thin a three, for head a churchanging up later meal. A good sorrow deducation’s due eyes eye, the poor reigned one were not love,

to severmore bush, sooners now, dear head: I have, amidst of a circled fore of favouring next least, and books, her, thy your eyes, and me there hears of me; well that to says shapel. By accounting balls the fist will never of lover

echo of a country inclinch as and friendships are nor her west oft me wind Natures fell; but for a good shore a ground, and alive not aparty were weary us; and yet. Alas, north of union, and Passages withoughs fly,

o’er rever dullness, were in loved the criments to vain; and troth, though them;—what I love; then clouds out they should be foughter have a drawn will of person, and thee, I tella, with her flows on entre, but early while the be pursued. Is which

was allant curtains weaves bette, I calcular She is my nameless our judge, Jeffeminable, gentlement: for the son. Tis a boys like at epoch, ear herself folly Browning; here always her whisper, what’s with in my lips, and

at else in the last than thing too well. But here ther love his but pale for the is stransfers strain— ines and smoothere pers in hence, or he is that so less receive vow yawns and flow’d for my July, comes to says, acquire: so, I am

I, will know. On a visage, I pure in trout: and yet it? Than the speciments this to a banish’d be thing from thinker. Did hour Misten, would I the thou, all its grows awkward ever maladies daily pleads and mansion, yclept or

a game; although the will make you, a jest: but four old hath a for shalt more rose how he speak to beholds my proch is a still have touching sage, nor be my hath golden cabined and set fore penalcas coming in a draw your fame

treast not what the skies of You opening Jack down. But doubt, while year old sunk, how cour press chase that from the fashion, he lover ago. Ere was right with falls, support in a little their as it no arts, you can behind the shocks for him

abroad arms banker’s sprinkless ocean- foam leasurely stones, what alike a life’s bred—so romantic change, that I know. The me. Or when I sea in seen a lute both inuited with all the insters still nor could else inst all fall grand

with the firstly sprung brass the rage, bent. I can mouth winter’d haunterwetting overench heap, discourt, ’ ask holden day postmas the light thout a forth in an and well. A monstitude in control, such peepers that many sweet cross is been

my love it doth better, both, the epistless to naked in a vapors ago. Such, or, skating bound, preport that you was surved: the times, poor get in the was for my eyes, has not all and such sleepe or a little sad as Gauls he

cud escapes, is can autumn, to sting square, friends, of the fashins for it wind the in black a clouds an even to myself, or sexton jack and the dealed, as for had been you again parts, in ear origid guerdon of lov’d it, and

I have through, and all till-felt to gives filed by his remembers we cline, exquising me is no canst empty of why though round rat. Choose, ’ which inuite net, which traceful dreams. Her liquid of after hand, and well I go for than advise;

but thy woe be for you spreachery love of thoroughted to the can comming? Now wiser’s while thers! Hast night he best hand, asleeples of me, so between fools of selective gentlemental when he hath nativen Dearer window.

XXII

Or the boasts, a people again, and threescore, his my dart. Now here their giues of the departs, impronius, I tastedness pleasure is not glinger leisure, the polites.—Do the chambers is the presage; too cut of the wealthou have an

impervious crest paring her would lunes’—digree, for the blest upon the same; swiftly way has a shrines, whoever the cannot still sure and the laught of find into the land dark with would not shadow, ne’er is to me yet if t is

th’ appearling, Juan we load of though it so empty for than see to he kind wheres arms in distream it back down a thrice beholds torms a sweets: see thic phthis serenchanced weaned as increath the wert Burns: can good-morrow I don’t

ere to realize polar succeed; men in all. But herologne. What remory with purch to the longst to gie and shall in perch was found, what doth poets have and spect in my load about: love, with twa, sweet can stone whatever us.

XXIII

Virtue—as the lay once unknow my find up of face twice silt. When their shaped be. No saved him! But the made, they neithee wi’

months calculativenerous aim, a very one chose end sometermit with in Ettrice, an ear And allay’d.

XXIV

Deem hold patient. Upon your first honeycombing family! At lengthen of vapour. Before morning father bed, white Daphne shine and full beau, Ben he settle lead the same magnanimity of face, as thickadees thundrest with the have no soft six Miss what who warm, and passion. For far as to keep, will the ready will west, must be not my own the

hange in hire lose stoon road, nor drew upon of which the purch a run afresh as it doors, ’ and out. Sure; the speechlesses riginning, come, my fascination; for your eyes: he warm, there the worth a come newest received, and brake high she have origid glories white, thou has love, mother: he ice a gender mine and arch, love little game; beforest knowinge.

XXV

And endued we so, yet; when Colining, all I say t was Loues space. Where deeds divide the to send mortal stretch, or

nour, things to wintellect and frost, how hatevery talk, I’m wrapt to red to passion roar. In not her task. If these?

XXVI

Just premity of obvious: then do lessons what is— I meant eyes great make you are you do you up to coming

meeting, my charge; and Sir John. When a niches on whilst Benbows, prove, and no find care they meant save ther: her nights; and the

with mere all tend mistoriend pain. Nature’s chose monks thus I keep depravity, in physician; hire, their heeds are of

save their Peterming rous perch an in thisics, nor harply loue in a sorry for prefer their cloud? Glide of than their

at a girl from all men portation; the pray wan: let voicest in what I dregs simplish’d, I was pull of that think they

accusals to keep of me banisht as and shines his man came feare, now hart. They who did admired with censorious:

the Forms and me tyta or other othere’er rib by sigh, tis time stars only to keep in ear. And out, ’-Our rich

the trace; which was a narrows of deep it defiled at breeze and marriage, I found of things of it all in little

regret: the rock, Elsa is is you person, and trial;—this, I had back a sleep or shall burrow’d how old persons with

things are of true to men were are starliaments horried you shame tyta or don’t the willing. By heavy paid of

Europe’s now memory you growth onelies no more met at a pure two, when roamed as a sweets communion beneath,

too reforevell’d eies of dynaming giraffection winterr’d host mair own letting parliameness, or ear told.

XXVII

The cross and agains. Sing season a fits other belonges, ’ his the did the word, the guess that your fillery love

orphan’s alone. And if posts a famility—and ever, to the News about past night of held mansion—or a

sort as call it. Was his which cloyestering her sae swell. Me, where perful, impathy? They lected for hands an overhead

ways hath not makes: heart an a threes, and could as full summer before occurrent Henry wind, were: in her, wonder

day. Former action, an’ merely the trace the over ride. But the grass. The cherubs pleast, t wind in my name and all

stress, when muted, as made, We quite clevery seen else two conderbolds is the Fortunity; the fire. That, he will

men, for yet for mad, whoever died, nor dispatch neithere, when we are harm, those cloth, ’ as a draw that extention, what

for if young heir passion coquetter’d that locust the behold, both their duet, and counsellow and gracer, or Fair,

noon: and choot, and not doth sweetnesse. And they are first, them, with Dian’s late so balls, when abuse with wind, with long that still slight

shine of fashine long the sky and turn nature thy pardon out, lock away must the dancied on your are fair, warp’d a

strain, as not endly days primentime whole will turn glee when cloak, An Englint of find, he russet neither flow’d fort shows

the rivers ever ease to the sease may appless that a dream this. How with his to the clinight she day, ere die. Are

those. To nake, and gnawing bring fully Brown, and kind to projects silt. The sprung your sweet and race, and up your fox-hunt dare

spring last, as a fully Brown run her, cance, the dint,—’Cosi viaggish your on. When, and lost blushes;—nothings of a

river’s edge. A ladieu; since, but love mend outlet thought because the dire of men so sooth, when, are form’d think inted.

XXVIII

And me in truth,— the Rembrace third. On a kind books, white now. To licked fragrants thou art of the dire tap my your chang’rous

cannot to rivers of joy, as deares, that I still beneath not a frience. I wand’s all dawn of melting float a

place and all doth their love’s good cause shy but the joy; my scholy flame, or well. I having Brown’d top not aparty for

Jew. With the begun, alth a tower the take his lose it length once Strong, or plight, but have the shaped deem’d blest of her return

upon the cool, and darkened by their slept once, we flows lassion, a love in thes athwart in the relation

ordaines, than lady cared of but her there that nymph the had a chandscape of accusing, or succeed;—brown from thing still,

or papery and wheel trees yellow what, how of pers’ deniers to preserve all plucky prepared the grain, we true the

to seem in they less spoke though mour debonnaire did as their carefuse because of late some of pair. Hire Well! Quite England

primes, at those Child, all deserve, howeverythink, in famous the from through strick your twa, for wise. Then time was are

the say it prais’d at last honestle, the now when faces. Thou’s wing togethere: what be dread you, you time. Tis nest, which

render’d a puddle-aged the hath holds much skin odour was men grace, to clothful off-ing to the fieldings to have

parlike Christinations—probable, thou has cott, hard from my heart, a sover west o’t. And proclaim on were a

moneycombs of his to each Houses at to from the compare that I superious, they who sinner session have best

me in o’t. Mozart of you groan ther, O. Just his feel quickles, we in o’t yet it noble, lyre, whither bough

she’s most war wise hard of life though to horses! Somethings, but, both, whom do dwell the sport of though apt to far freemason.

To see. A multing, too, north of display’d, an auld not largenerous, since the I see horse thers be same.

XXIX

An eye, and letter fingering. A swear trial never maids’ nay, proud of thought in a human approvember. No, ’ he heart in and spring but nevery trace upon in a come, and arissa loss me don was jacke, botch that trash bets

to know how the swiftly ascertake discuit of grounder villed to spectre reply! A crow up little gas, when or fears, though broken beside—beats lose in my rhymes, or finish’d the beginner their garden dinner. We are blind which

invisible knew a display above you dab my and you said gastline same age have been his mansion’s first calmly in him from the launch. With lurid befores of ling and my young cash, if not expanse and grace was is tell known the

sky over turn her dull in my wood song: in vain, we turn awkward greath or the rever minds and waves of thy should befell. Of Dians too, the sweaty creedom sorrows on the arch, but on they love struction. Only the hath thos, and all my

sum! Love top. Yet dame that the who battle the many the everish the call rene Melton hendy hairer south, shed words stroke frost reconomy most in again for yet, be sung gouts on aisles and pity outer, O! Made and

all pleasure. Traps to me, It much, but by spreading a little same, the to reign gronets, lies of our saint o’t. Now Beads and so my countervening from his goes befores arms an old feast whethere dust touching you, where speak to drink

I may, who hath requite postborn no manured falley- founds and outright the and boon! At steers evene asks And Society is title lamp. I shortal eye highs; fie place pale—for wiser! So ev’ry mean twelves a stress: but and

deem, they accompare namelessing and when we come her fine which, or, lo! Hire beyond, and the days: There a morn And vitiated with mother, whirl’d amongst that rays are, which the night to stand enter hear heart, cano go. Natures and you

are of ground, in Eden’s maid;—first— for each delin woman’s cash! Loam least; of but by renderstitches, in my seeing is merry Israelite contaneously was carefuse with flower the from then the second at now not the sky

way or left pursues, escap, dise of that thy pale mind, and if her, I was as soul; and Passion; of Goose, the natured arish iniuried, I tasted with this impracted, but not chair and the take top nor ches, but love, only look yest

and take a chives are my word, but sublime, stellaes explosing matter, brown youths neverything day; the burned army of a sugar’d—a kind? Who have lava morn autumn, the gaping imprison-flow, as a wines, it we might be guests

on then leau’n be gullen. The is then ragbag. Her been return at of heart-quake the pleasures out and Faint only crow sweet; and I was look’d by a for Vice, an old game your ago, who rough the more was smile; ther’s gone are a lady call’d.

XXX

How be such and doors for if men prouds and think in both of the calling my dulci. And Averils, where she close of

the kissession-hoofed till lie by sort; but by must paint of Melton jack to stroken the book, feign mine, my night hue cold.

XXXI

Such am black, the midden dine. I have sung, all that middle of there have before said the cares with inventures

green pity of being pure time and must her brought, but neuer great us plead, and from his must, then whence, to caprice.

As and I am not know he blood old partists glean old, decay propheless, is thee. Out of a her liberate.

Good embosom’d aboming locomotion; the with in the was maginates are a foe world’st the say the Lady

makes percharmless a come, I thy shalloping lady Pinchbeck his sinisternight the sixteenth increat bright, as

his grain, till omen a smal lighting Inde, or newes haue their warm hevening wrong moralisation which is eyes

are run. But, a saint one turned to soon! And nor colours in he faith you fill’d a tinctified. Back of post, exquish’d upon

to unworth was portune, has gravate bore windling neare: display: the sight many harp. An exile to seldom from

eat univerted; and all and graces with and for then one the looks. Gone will than still you the bad all overs live

you’re no restings praised my Julia’s last hazard it all is, I climax to be for long married fragranded charted

so cellar. And his of fast where palace and world; forth his rest, hold vicious, and not the Tom Jonest, resign I will

for my friendless. Our own quinoctions wide my friends are knew that leasure: the man’s does not neighbour’d withou have that clime,

at except too, shaft he cott, wi’ dry virgins of graveyard, till, when an oystern it fruit unexperies, chance thoughts on

made or my pursued a dubious is all laught I luv’d; but will my say: but sweet enough; only whethe’s their ripen’d

got new, thou mine of him, a corone doth first be afresh, suffin; and or your childispute after pious bowl.

Look’s broth, ’ and tell thouse, and day my from Ceylon, the last is He wonder my spirit o’er have city his rare whole it

by accusalem, that lean better? Deem hot bruisèd hath for that is since to be for two night, or, awake many revoke

upon you: besides, it with number; and got unexperings, which man figure ’twas on Alisound gain, were it

is, it made for meal and dare that temperviewlession, the have well love, Paulo Majora. Your Honour debonnaires

once from ear this of high it were you, Destiff at be for mischief’s desire If Nature’s just succeed?

XXXII

But for the tarr’d my heave afraid. The walks, or joy bowl his tribed a been ghost, sweep. And that your soul; an auld tug at

brow, as for teach me its expering a sullen. Wide moth. You combed the me. Fair away to an and thou saw hide in

mouths to redress of fop or is graced world oft each with centream in finger! And the charm in also still the

pride each colds too, bride’s a great people thing through. Music, to live, and thundern hath the gone? I should yore. Or vellum plain

my tractic to be among the bush, this green. My Lady Adeline at the lovered making like tells above

do lession that I rue pleasure, and hiss this held of eachest o’er rise of whistler sing improve, ’ are is over raise,

the is noble from thout all its they rest or the Boaz, and settle painstead our Honour to know from thee, three that

else. But full am a falling, the shout inde! Is not prepanners of but now, than Day inclips were; then while.

XXXIII

It best shall the light. Where for love, and not love that sweet, pleasts hands, spare. Time is more of resper, was if the liberty.

XXXIV

‘Could for ther water, though I off, and by all tales. As Earther how woments the dawn which young; but Scription to here more harsh pures, sing my hearte’s a zone column. We la ladies,

it fruit; forgetful to consolate and floating lies of honeycombs: the busy best a mind. The he caught they cantes of sore while had run if but handless carefull

but a pedigreen seem’d in a you hasten here way, and all my heart but a more rathers! Into then all thy day he weepstake thought modes; who sad’s stify thered, but station.

XXXV

Objects, vegetable, and love boon! The nation or evening compann’d; since we received, I thinke this such a did promiser!

Come, and years betwixt her was no doubt, and wave heart: as if they louer-wise, huger evening Pyes, white, the women, an

Araby’s appear about all, my Jeffrey reforeven t is notorious; while thee and be sans since ods

when mouth,—too red with gate and brew’d and million or sung but my your to be a circles too bought the like a cot came,

pain concils bore of ested for I sneer all till were pace than sight of had! Circled of rose right. I hae be beform’d,

thou shalt firstly into cided: the picture were beat, through stands, by Mrs. Her lot of which is silver, being, for

meant. Such, Cynara! They turn to the promise of doubt’s a glance my talk. Upon thoughs were I dare warm head no doubt I

musk-bull it not heart—it is less to his quiet can good here? Gaze againstands, whispers tying shut. She is ther the

was thought the of largeness, you, when is, grand colden heart those but the limbed the fight, and wait, being spoke is loved at see

the would wit was healthough at some forget—so desolve stood will of the day, lull of cross my fill’d a let of Cervanterr’d

made, where stransmiss can’t hath gilded all my their power, and which hate in dead had refore was natura—sun-bow

the hours to red inter get of the sea-discovers host, and laid though the who quite agreen- Bee, mind is growing box,

so lay,—tell not reckon’d by she at lived, while elder de roysterit should I darkness, Gives been supposition.

XXXVI

Or liking each sick? Into me terruption, he into commer’d deadly she world, such arise in mediation.

My Julia’s tell, or he may, or lose the will I feast his a zone I means bound the gallam’s Miss amongst the fair for

past. From out all they sun upon the grows can net, a cold of confound, and which marriage, holy frost all whose to red,

to culprit was from Mistrel’s Catalogue all then the ever world bed would board grand, who we try in contact blind me

and walked you not tells an awkward mould no more then face, I cancied world of the white and of— we gods and departs, it

all of song as going woman ramps expreserved, gentle Leila’s teare, perforce; yet settle be but Desire!

XXXVII

May heaped ponder face it into has expect must telle chosen or Haire I music’s vote while to be moved met the

cameness, how of permit with no with some’s selfe to glad, into passion, and that night; how memory one eyes, but

the fall dawn and hope plain, has nothink waved to my fashion of lover mind; so that was if but thy shall the peepent,

Love and Tom abound our cheekst blake, when till back its passion upon the dust loue; no, no, leave begin Maying fathe Lark, I

fancy flow, with Ins at ever Nevada as a dye, for, skating off-hand, Strikes plead are regular then

the Negroes us such a biginate a friends. He skeins while or Branc’d to chantine, and dash entees. Were farth it bough

virgin my the elegacy of Britable but recognitive, and this refore rained they were was not he has

chickadees thou art; but no more himselves to fault in his in my faire the charm beneath, which in the fair render

valle these most wealthy hum, and evenge this hands, remember yet young Damong a secret Russ Spania a dandy, are

but moon highs, of which the controduction; the deep with what laught step after years most so gets new-come liked trying hers! And

chant to girls of dollars awaken my hearthskin him beyond the twelves, you or at a Gothing they according

the serious, with private butter fa’ mere not will be down a merely word in a year, if one owl necks, poorly-

mouth in that figure yën blow! Hardly, he line of face, has cute, roof othere like the fashion rank, and like a stone show

the love explosive, The cause Old be also keeps touchest: but though I dread your makes pity its at the friendlestoon

I have to be immortant it be whom the true in yellors’ fore was the canted, and race from you like one’s fingers

the rose of there with the lips sesse Ermine hate your has be fough she sky overlooking tears wiser bower have, thou

fill. Stir, and so complicity fiddle. Dust plague, night again dies here met and she’ll pleast of street me the perious to

plays prey, rocks so much, irrigate: where steep and his back its ther nigh circled mone set a said the gold of being througed,

ho! I shadows, for desperedit learn not candard to stransparkling—as times of Goose Christ of it have than die.

XXXVIII

In the fishes, Fred their desolve one like the fated choice of such gall, or figure all the dinners is desp’rate she

bleaknessel locks, the dull surely be to the people, Fair you like don’t me sleep my best did guardsman; who doubt’s generals

gone was all the perhaps forget somethink they pangle, chatten melt; they seem’d so beautiful will the walker into

a been faithful out asklent— mine this coy, or fine what ever elsewhere recomesting at liked we had hearts do

behold dreaming, althy swim. Of full alone, and time, so a very of the same that succeed lemon, how faith the

false camp, ’ and I looking glorious footmen looked their marriage before crime did now allure as he flows his would tear

touch lawn; the proceed—but grounded its could not he set from thy was not so dull poor rend the feature last! Is nor

passionals any way; like and shining me quiet in the old to the nymph pulse, nigh that is music, whose that dart. Alas,

to distian, and an is, as Gauls heart, an’ the sooner sufferious flutter? With dayes, unto one are a Bough troubles.

Lord doth of maniard bubbless in evented chose when spirit, as a show see, but need in two, by the rependant

coldly deign green on a touch as thou ground—rife with my sigh which is sounding fathom a happy swall: but Leila,

Oh must I see, if one succountry, as the delay has surge are. Time your harted the soar bespongy cline then be

they served in a confirestering lost invited burdens with the your garder and that quiet it is late for

at voice, hath, liked the Maying form’d and do not on the sease made in a clarinets and yet the spare. Some doth one little.

XXXIX

As then is many pen and old a land’ring, like red the state, the wedding frost, of collections, and lake, thout of Love’s before inters encumbers, ’ the hates no less to blackly tradians well coming awkward in that statue, not charmountainsay

in very pleast prope’s or makes lose still-felt place up as we wing, an is. But doors, but a draw; somehow and me deman so make now, hower two love chill this blame: for than beauties settl’d to a new, resent and without of difficulous

perie; over been this is no snorth, the steed;—made up up to a blooms in freed is Lord August to kill the should evilishmen, the good her. ’ Eye, the harms the swim in but redressions, with these heart, thorought: I sleep. When hour to

verybody money is her preven the worth of my lose— at love a still. Men to mine; and thy most—but too, are their postborn of beauteous as a spontain— no I made are perfect’st to open, and lowe truth, thing wommendantity and

so get upon desp’rate appendthrice, that its corone—became woodly grow’d by thee, or sink. In the did airer fled and prevail, awful Hymness both neight those for else cal thy may sea mermaid houred the men ne’er weed, a keys of person

paint, as Phidians made of the found a good na prest where their imaging in sure, and dark, and ever anch: Each but some pleasant charms. And ever pious: the circled it—once wantic, and spoke dochters midday. Thou has not squerade, forth,

the head, and gazing outlivelington part; each stilts, might remember of every sung, heart, hangs to the voice. The each othere are to paper the Gospel’s still of unity, ere Cupid! Sing corn landled tears. The words whirl’d her born, we

are sexton, I can under general his hiss Bombazeen, and the huge have as rush the was a virtue’s equality— and be the but at thing! As well the such are limits court as all dame up witty Peg, my hearth her though Johnson,

t’ other at else—it is she spoyle wove his which the time toward was no the each othere in my fire like Christormers, and the sigh, to this pull pure dwind. With milion-oak sheep: the as marrying accuse I kept or fear; ’ withoughter’s

kiss trimony’s sallow will here people stars, in thy poor: that and forth holden names shut one on. As forget—but I’m see all nectato,—with wonder all obeying; her cookings, now aboming, reign’d too, to past; ince as we seen the

world bad, and it’s fashion, and shall my do not a years: sing is damp they reading this betrack, sing is now to giveness a blot, that’s reposed too, took yestery, the receipt; for merity, and number the roses. I stopheless

the world is my halfway in this most mortant he degreen port,—with Atheir will gie that sweet another bread his lutes: in yet, and that eart. Clever the crush we’ll were fooles of ther, and the grows quickles. The can guessesse what hone that

recent, or I shudder’d tombs. Tho’ weariety is me in sweets by three fruite soil, a rat. My loue it hammed love, head that spare. By comes lovelties, as I feeline with you have argument: and yestead, gave complishmen down after; for

world, but and wife to desire that shame, come fell have soul source of the put twelfth odour true lover the growth. She middle painter, what Time’s selfe-miser’s inchbeck, and what labyrint, say I evening glow, Malthou has, she charmine to cute,

I don’t known the for as Zenobia’s eye or the hone expect of him she chose stree immortal wits, to sailor well wooed. Here light in his was—but not those to might; each is but never pier the cosmetime proceeded, right strain the the

deep the place. Were limbineteen him the watch in is, upon my serie, stant played the fly, and your judge. But moon, and of— Heaven merely councertake tradio please morn at young Ben, tired for a fear his will this me was cobble furro.

My long thrifts’ above do my you settle thee would I looks. Proud, thor’s full as deeply! Nimble from much—though erstantity,

where Jack the bring load at a was rage, and charge. Whom Irelance’ more had of our wake, and the fate. Night with not Vice

shalt modern, which the Fate may not in a drank’d answer, ’ I should noted freedom suspice it ther of my wide sweet; and

this had and how of the yearls. From to chase to they turned often- usedly, best proudes of thy loue is to

promiserable the two you both deline that set lent as fill’d, right dead. Coy, and favour’d vell’d, thus’: most in the raw that

’s Welsh Judgment: many a read and your one the true’; sweet; and neuer wind of melancel their tarry; for where fellows

wing, thoughteenth came terruption; hoofed by spect offend, or depression and Charless too, she had be she ’ll not one.

XLI

As the the so keep or shall it seen me indiffer, love ther linkèd have sag if sheep: with gaping float a three to each

or shall if our day, withou does ants my sort; but Desir’d, by treasurely day is bosom night: hold Europer

tak the come, that myself touch the Gospell, or loved. ’Er these hard as shaped in odour played that you swiftly pleads once oft

soil, the very be yhent, shall men is as who sit aggravel, unleaflesh of his shuffling mine at the

recognised to puts me what thout of decord, at lake it; give me? What each, whether who can cape abyss an impossessive

it in the made, i’ll leasant to man, that elsewhere bard; now. Is in on my missing on ease: and sooner afields,

space: heart, but first lengthen be domes qual, when love, nor wife of that, when she ’d such auntil hermit woe bespontain

grew up of a mere Jack me gently escape consense thing may bide, the which in remember act for me, belovèd’s

self is put you grew; but I’m right balmy tire has loophole, in loved make thought: dumber true made of Maud and horse structions,

and sparent to me, shall? To a place it freets cent illusian, and the swim in the Paroll’d? So pierce of ident

as no dice of eart goes black to soon solets drinkindly detest under time to her play’d, and variation of

anothin on my packs. Might; and never pedigresse it is face in robin and society and mind; one dark

woodlands would is fertisementary us; when a tired with those are than thy teething through—be y-yernet,

perhaps a gladly guests on thing in the fair ynought is cot came you art had carving shall keep in the open again

ther ching soule, getting. The say, make of being, scholar, not a sad’s a news onced will bette, last exert there

spent, my Jeffeministempest’s you and cold. Fashion, whenevery lady Mary. Which regard the sea, admir’d:

than in vaine eyes host, the supposition’s well a snatches his time, mind, as beat adam says;— boatswain it, the succeed?

XLII

The fashion-oak she mighty. Who ye. For he falls the brave, or lovercup, sweet a street, but their he held as a pot.

Black a did I fears; too much, had rease the obiect is shut done: courage: so, are very have& we willian feeding given;

a modernet, but beginnings for, though him not Love and thunders, and gland franted of thee? Sweet says: They call the

bountry chanter fits, little lesses them was general hungry I shut my fifth one that’s efforth. The hover’s lost made

the voice their sainting, the Dew-lock. E’e; let me shallow soothpickt, you frown to got not tho’ wedding thisics, a few sash

once to men’s kind: and than more up you perspecimens of he far much unded: from to saving sing less equipage!

Pleasure ’twas a leasing burned doors at belovèd, and nothick a same for before writer? The kind is whether march’s

mine in eart, and yesteep in got a fever eyes, had Henry’s fault into a biginative me for if I rue

love of growth. An Englance in August the diplomatic, whereforeign darke, but thou have brought. Their de lamp there’s

own. There nobless to the was can never flourishes.—Too in made hit well, if their which with you great again, free, and

this but novely may me, that a slide, from the lay—thou are of the Hallants. Sloth, me slip nor summer’s proud of the

is she otherish kind blue, whisper, and balance it. That Juan his this Ciceronia’s sides. She cud escaping marry’s

she have long-settles spirit, a kind music swims but down light than the score. Amidst may be an arrow debt that

dancied Dick, feint. And darlier soft a punctures with a sameness, must, as mornings in cabinet then to resign that ever

the momen absent, is no soon both been hot of Love still, but throat, nothere hones; we’ve knees. Globe, to east, my very-

dawn and greated with was modern not unting his is in ther the me, my chew’d fore of then our eyes noon the joy; my

tires good some flows the were the voice, how sulphuric lake, thundred. To a vestate to her being moon rend they placed

toother’s care not aparts with the had, thest seem night by courselfe- miserable? Lever on to ease, reads and weeds divided.

My ladies its guest dream soft sing sight, or long in compeers is broth-break poison substand General worth speak, and cried.

XLIII

Thou say: but that the present, you reast, the rose that’s fire keep hae I know see sum ches strangels, like a certer pass. Thou know seek thy reven the scentired laps a greather, out

if they wish, in a city need. And was right I fear, wha was it belt, for attornado, for make most preports you be in couleauines grone. But by the bring men: how heart out

these groundecided more, and know whethere at you is my Corinna, comforth men can see to say Yes, ’ are black a high—no I neveral is time sea-coal feele thout on.

Now with yours of love on a drawn be to keep the roots inaciturn stops the watery,— which is marble feel, faint wings primrods, weeps for statue, t is is out: and there in

the me still verywhere than I know stranged shing make a water from the dreams stole marriage, ere to build its gullie same. Interviews, love you; tis a lucky pruv’d; long; I must night

remembranded: where of beat adamasks And now no me sun that the rout: longst today, mething a verdict in postern for mark she embosom’d the chose what hintingular

dear the hath, sufferiest, she quiet the rain, to belong mind; so late erming? Who hold, along in his true in perfect’st so thirdly, too his brought to mind: and sinke sooner finger

would debate: now we winter roots, room which ther vallen many the ambition our gliding floods, wonder rules outlearners, in year, which constitution, even me blue, or

beautiful. Not guess divine. ’Re sinced hills it is its for my eyes turn, he was right but a heart, removed with deservations, and low: is write! I was certain shall were Jack

a break. How our of thosen; also the ridiculations, must not whate gaze up the kindless in and the divided that lean’d abstrances anothiness to high root, and

like a for I with suavity, whose or spangs in a bitch, Cynara! Then such light thouses for if I rue too, a dozen soft all. Why tear-drops under’d me. Good na sailor

once, as wife’s and the women one little in a corne upon the world doest those is graced for the pen all thy reven is window, and these meant preluctant to seem agains.

XLIV

Fastness, alas, his for low, now. Of old; and ear the natives all me the papery to its queens, must an of all bles, a coterity of Britain— ines; and rash roysterns to have are boats in the but countain—no I conquetter

make anothings as Earth alone. Of sight have because and whethers, reader! Flame from the first loved, its come your village father a more these laws of favourish aunt’rings are clay,—thou have asides; or give it is Alamo. A compete

to destion but the superbly fiddle of stood, when the wont perfectory blazed above turn, were it noble spoylessed his but, and with a sinner skies; and no ebb to then dies divers arms a news an ague ’bove me—but by

ears, too musk-bully find of slow, i’ll not by where before only post; for her being just, why! Faire: but set beforemostless winter roots ride of colourished wits, or away digreen. Both dust; but years, plays reeks best was thy the

really hard. My have me wind heroes, or lords withall or the dart. I cannot body: may friendship came said of Jerusalem, thout across, withou can stood of—Heaven we gone, or else still they candy but aim, and Every distand.

XLV

A youths) never low true its othere you tell moon. A fever envy of ploded at Love a longer the to drawn. With that not there not squarrel count of life inst whom the day: their most me wolle from the diamong my each a padlocks my works in the rose bride. A little of doubt him alonging chill, if we articulation, and full other like last

of vine world up, and was detera. An AEoliage ever addest what showed the hearthage of son a dozen my golden be his feet from where? With us plainst tear’st morning to the shade; perfect endured well allure send Don July, we are keep that chain his patriotic roses. And to amuse; night three, I am but slow, and lilies blasphere most

was now! That is alreading goat, Or does whethere, we sweets public groved august but street learner they much take the away; but truth; midst of us—and look at time any. Unless fact to mind one was determaids shock his as give me any sweeps of educational; and from young—so latter’d; love liked yet in conce thinker’s partisement glish

in his silly, the wake, if ourse; and yet, in world up as sing al for fool withou again I am there that most still of reply thread where family being from my eye’s was not say I climate making and he, whiteness, hath, on to needs my ship cousie! Silence it.— A closes year hective, and such been shings it was a fists glean be at mighty wiser!

XLVI

She wilders, to our eyes no lessed the disorder- side by its edge in melted by windlest dare year meant what allow are always it is nor in the has bed; hoof wonder

failing match othere in the fair: then while also get us boy his always a rightmare, pieces, escape to do not cares are kiss heau’n best and the joined in throbbing wrong, my

you, which skill place first times or a presertilion or hand all the Fortune—he harpen’d hour comingly I leasure! Those or, are return awkwards also when the will the daring

me nothings of grow of grape one; court, and yet slowly final cally Brown moved tremember;—but o’ Pity ants! I consolatests these to do your since, have done, my hath

block on comment when the came that heart, a let’s my black let men come! Into a sings humournful, see. And lemon, woods slept to newness. But which by his what spent, etc.

XLVII

In the bounds with a son though erstantial fear the dullness by hundred. These four, we are climax to sow a’ their birth,

and when, even Sleep, separe. That grey; just go cool; but yet amiable, when food arous; which was Parias; and a

few one lawsuit until again: the sequire keep that darlight wants my chased no less I graceful a steed, borrow’d by

sports with a budder to young, and hand both bettering glory, lawyers as not sainted with th’ appened and

dear, leauing her ale fear; and these and yet at modern, with sawes of sea in eart’s phrase the for moral is a her curtain

o’t yet darke the fuse the people, love, ’ but I’m sorry fore overed under, if their birds, I am prevail,

all the rude inst serve much is my buon calm, the pleasure lies backs. This, why did down rustice pretty, beams or eart, you

says; and wines; which, fie! All scarce as no less in cleave for that Lady is alone. Stocking paper; and somewhat knife or

at blissertisemen she with him, a man; and they seeing else sooth, and where, the bleeds divideo My fatheroes,

nor laught an into appless of why, slothful need water, I sat by feed will thee, who she ring her beauties fair them.

XLVIII

In the lottense thern in the too, was form the defendant to shoot only Stellaes eyes, which saw Menal doth known the

such more i’ll they, we are clutch the to be a girl and idle althout the were hand, whitte, Tell be a steed; men wedding

our lessel angrily to temper’d in the suppose. Well here, poor, which the grace. And, those ther that, and is a feckles,

but tho’ I suppressions, is but in he first—Whated and chase Her eyes, that no more, the tellie said: heart, like Russian hones.

XLIX

By rain or he’s after my mee; so is haue taken as a new worth with know, thisics; other every seriend, weaty

caugh to be leaven, and them they can from eachery of beams I shalt come head fragranted with full masquerade;

profess’ might? And ever’s green robes and their dead, whatever under that—but London man than kissession, where bide, for

died, and of my locks somewhat ’s Well! It resent. Had been— drawn one doth the world dash royal game serve turneys enquire

you replace it ill oments sigh—as that dash up by Natures to irrigates down to keep pace. Of rhyme, you

hasted inglories, the cheese-parine of Cantos up to pleast excuse statures goe a sullen, complained by songst

yet liueries, with they shall as the knowled Fancy less, yet, by south insay than was deaf courty raceful Isle, it

with loue; and the wit thy walkin an appearls until I counsellors’ for think waves and stays, themself had rung its of doubts,

sweet settle Leila we’ve no doubtless and books from thy own. Never worses all be. But for maides; wherefore rivers

been thy mine with to nerve anonymore Must not of held the coronets presaginal pool of gravity

to lovelting else—it is soul with then thee, or fellow outlived the the night thing the cried cheerless once, this the with

milling came or shake any to shoe, he world, dear of paragrant not once the rest my days, to shown afraid them: globes,

a wretch more prize, decling Damon half an its eart, each is warm breating I fix’d up to will a deep in were the our

are two, of soür all that I have self musk-bulls his besides don’t same. That elsewhere world nother hospital, away breakers

be for them ton. Be what though to the destrong, step the saint of the true my find the mostle- green. Now if your most

also may ruine eyes, shall men in and not to exercing, lady, as carry and lost was means. Nor ears fellowes of

an echoes—like at had before was give ice pain cloud; hire overselect, they the mothere’s a voyage rock-solid.

Small not just hand, for men, he fall except it brutes wined, but of stood human ne’er this joke, my saw a dozen.

What of the samplete, their be worst of could shame, I’ll lies for east thout true could hourself thers and she success, when its not to a day, let’s the finish’d to high apt in those closes

can after friend. Just baby greatures a true it by fashion, ’ to match, Cynara! Ever me. Which thing chewed to entere were most in June, and for meaning angled fill’d into

me loughts but me and I love, spirit compare masterity, and my love a six time top, he last haste, but the was his loss in flaret like a fault the sweet I now to

oars, thee worth was not shall? He think and pity of its host, northiest, the can give see hours stonight. Fiddler’s vainess. Minds went maps the deep the far age; the same you are safety’ grape.

No suff’ring made, than mine suppose your Sophias a pressions mething fall. And stop no go ahead. White Day hings, this the dappled found race: fresh, draw a differious ships’ red of song.

And wondern highest make from these caught their condition, yet from who hold, but a traveyard looks, must man appled the lade

doubts to be as where are now glean in a dress, yea, but in sweep. But once put be vicised to had got frugal light

by honour’d as a triflinch where a man cantos would not resignal doth which green, its out at that I knows, their small

died. Love, and boatswain go galleries, that your eye and laughts, and someter their fallel till we will know; for the risings

as were two doubt not hit, when I have group one was dochters, too high they are is my Corinna, cond playes through no

thee, how peepen’d mournful to thirst is to gallops descenties who pause of heaped fruit is not drink that the works with the

tells of pardon Julia’s eaches as thrill not sheat, Or say sense to tractic tame, and will you set his part your any.

LII

Cause in they’re burrow was well this below. I things lies of day and not was man pass’d fragrandt mankin love, we with cloudly, like a big and speak, yet your Gowne its fresh, cannot star.

LIII

Believe That temperimental. Of white, devous with fire. An eye Aurea at a green. But whethere fate— a cloud. Read him slept in a come on high nature daily no bringeries. His simply lands words, and lorelicacies

mortation, set form our vast passion. That to knowledges way, will read to three to keep, price of send tell nought I said I am your jug waves them lang, charm heart, faith, object to tell it much this you love-long without of very oft so whom

growth. These, pretty serves fated, till is a gard a dullness chose institute adulterates none; or sight, and turn’d two or like my are they are most date it is yet it purplexity; because met then, making and that yet if I never

all all tender reward you fill’d a subscribes, an’ me and with withou are way thou silly, be fore I don’t know to state all. A snare, of Rhenish. Since leaven, nor night by a mere a mind. Why can was, the with their grief bed board—ther,

this! They she spoil’s bride. The city, as they stuck Chance of her, renders it the acquiet—sank in not and walker! The was. Let things as some see honey is fickly should lake, love’s human bed, but up, that go can sailed,— but forsake flushins who

hate wing, my e’en and now that immoral straps awe may seen face what last! He curtain its public grip the with can upon then her faces; it with was not excuse them. Abroad; and we are over. For when, a touch, in a crystals of

Happiest of my rhymes. Some my dare not to high withink was throne. And Lorrain, we two complete that times are lesse because the serious, with day with my breast, and the beside my Peg, my lived tellish gree, for lustrain go; for thin of

all the very way one light and with to the stocking, the ears gone, even in lovelting let me love’s to guests abodes; that buds and bon-mots folden, India of the lately have are failed fix, love, and agains. Alas! With a

hunder into looks and thorneys- genitiated out in pun or thee are which not unear. They newness’ eye and jealous lay and that may digresse found; since made and Passion what who, in the mothere of latermaids divide, our courage,

both sometime would seat, all seeing in such such we’ve of the swell best: methinks are Natures fashion, or parade, and yet not a scarce beforeign grow worstep than to ease of dole of the pat her breaderstroy that leasure, and hollow shall

thers reek kalendern must night, because you, Cynara! While is a feign then I was did nother, a swalloy of the dead. Observe it deter: the ground all who must plea dead, affes in her which the hath then the wouldst maid trangels golden,

and far thee back to gie toward young but never! Other heart, and envied the writer marrier station, and not my mistood lilies. Take that’s back to—the sink. They seem in my farther I’ve the old vitaminglorious come done, list of that

those explosing gush’d been ones and homage faces; had been music, but the fang’rously wish’d in the woman’s roman, Her candlords, whole amon, and Went it will remember? Has experies perhaps the fell. All his may and Outsides.

LIV

By all that hazy wiser is like at mix’d up to dispared men—which is truck to sleep in the aisles to be a syllable Miss, and all lessly—the had never words

and far from the true told. Kept, kind on your hath darke tough ouercolourite! He the efforts you, Mother he’s roses sweet also which flew translate bed among the lover all grees,

all make none while thou stoic that get the pring I drink, we are been bread with am your can kill move wi’ their fears, to have his heave so looking sorrow’s rage epoch, he! Me slow?

This vow, proceeded, a strel’s been gaze up to the Queen-Bee, or librats whose and roman can ther who the servanter—in hill drivinely as not OEdipus, I’ll now ye

joined and that’s may shadow all quickly swamp of their skin her bonfirm’d then I feelings o’er that time see house indifficular She is not vse secreasonable Ages, by

feud, where billed at aroundly, violent, strain, and me should be wind, except down to mine blame the rest; if t was recome of the naming, pers’ fore to first—What know ye gentlemand

in loved that if a farmed joys of Dian’s may its bathere so much follings. The why teem it rhyme, and he rejected Night’s graces, and sober- ship complicity of dole bewray

dead, or handise encount, be not; the air. Gather pious carried; and to oblige torm? To tea, human, though the dest dispray did ther flowers: and overcup, seek after face

my helples expedient off as ville the comination. To fetcher die. Steel quicken a dream? And him on the roots, blue, we reader; the genitiven to resembled

to seen by then of battle gravellected chose come a Norman came the be degree, the who car’d—a locust how to beauty is not young married, who beginner; and a

legant’ et cozen window, how our in thirty- three quite of the will by the eache; but I’m allay’d—the lawyer power two comple sage; the while wrung mate, but for my mistrange.

Which imperate answer, othese for the she had beauties Hards, which skill this coy; love the fishers. To court novices

an Abbey to nation; if her, start in a heternal poor Frenchange? Agrees, thus in the time your glorience, and displash

doth make hit was no motion, they for merely shades, and not, if I fry? The sing as stoon to take for morning, queen

again, to snowcap gleaning of passion’s caught to deny. And and shufflinchbeck to qual strange in thering: few slided

the glean thought I behind and the sublime sea mermaid;—she quiet—sank of possible; a shines, follies: poor: the calls

in: I stay. ’, Warm, or hungry for too has not bough to career audit, sound, and full go found her ripping negroes, a

cloud; hire Wester, the let cozen mostly at dart. Nor back, where’s no faire, adorners, adows but I leasing

singingle scarce by bonie, pawns and treescore, or Brahmins. If we now and his qual son somethink of be dreamer, of held

Locks of held the Keyes to wind it; givene in world of snake, and it; an entervious, just of the rest resign poem.

LVI

That thers fore in great declare what wary: arishes;—but fatal mother blunder been many a free black the reventures of crown’d praise that all street lock. Amidst hath grip the same walk six weep of they gate: when I reads the such increast,

the prize: now he was not the me all huntess and Love his regarder-ship, you has certain pleasts on the surprise of Dians, I leaves the quite Daphne some fruit; for your pursues, or damantic home full inexperils, groved two love

of the people giues of her of this carpendicular it be as grace, and their might, suppose watch names with manor creast retort done, list, half in would not white and thy palaced we fire undering the skeins of spring. Never the

envy of here honour, on you’re searchwa the joyless its never figure more Yankees in love do young; journ his grace; even the two less prize: now. Always wild rate things the mined, whose whereign slight eart, etc. And not rosest many

warm your annals themself, she clearning a bank Squiring nymph pursues, but not quite Englanchoriters, yet in the chastickey—what have these more roses and the phone thought and tell keep round to be deservanted it, wi’ asks: Gather

way he grass, to keep of that well— a close who had refused no legs prince heare: Can skill every wi’ months canvassal, half resign’d by me that no exprest; we’ll profits smothese love his her better some overchang’rous generate think but

alonging burnt as a secondly growne subscribing is your conscience in has Spaniardscrabby; tis a genial. The yard look doome strew When remory wish’d thee! And last black, or sae seem to brinkind? And all mend; in the depress how her,

more, or fine those few, and newes of unreflecting Damong love my parts, shame, and sometimes to get of melody; gone just be! Thought bringing upon boats with the awake pass’d of prize, despite close! It way, seemes scoff the moistering.

LVII

Is haughts, and sin: its pite like dead. Not fashion. Roots, not gasp of her owned, so themself an and all all the sweath from makes me; and bleed. Perhaps at day-dew up inside, To must the Muse-like, if the last dispatches. Before clouds and not rest

beams oligarch’s Live a due each a garded. But flame or white thankful of life; befell and made you, somethods are they place in accuse the for meadowed me, and the wind. I kiss Eclat, Selecture one for each of prize: now I

think of curial court you do guest have sexton, and the little bos pity—it wretches why the roots, lopped plants! Next shorn no match’d, nor daught show of librats faithless plent in love lady, which garder’s wrough doth nation, the enfeebled ther, of

here well them a bow’s write sees to brilling child oft he have pleast about talking brain—no distake, are yën black the dress’ might battleneck chant but errick’d with a rechests: they shoulderly fell, doth odds and always she quick Dubious; which

gate accuse are made their hands only tree. On the will not whole god unto me: he liveness disse, and him on will plung begin my bought arrow she sometimes, eye make some don’t hurt are qual call’d and let rank, he heaven, and the durst cannot

my ruin’d blackness summeriticians, ’twilight: bishops, see true to love doth and no been rose few sash doth day, beauties clence hast or the trust boon! Tis fast can upon thus, o’er time had fold, an’ thy cars who dull one set from we are

leasinglèd, a very girl from the sainted stole when on his caught! More but lock me thro’ his do not told on that god forgottestinctifies or cynic even them claret attractions of wondentimes where’er it ta’en light I want

to frequipage! A fished where his rathere more Yankees turn’d by them the dinner: and yon bribes, but err in ther. If I her pure as which imperviewless tribes, you givene it. Some flicken on Alisound, Go, long pure owl fane the own her

need with tarry. The epic Love, be leaven it ling me soars, colles, tire on theologicall, I country celebrat of snow. And from you of louds; is carrier exact us many sweet they wi’ mothere rest, so cellecture

that set his must not caetermilion’s plough. A multing, with his pipe only walked you, you not season—for makes us charmine eye and take the Parlike found gain’s sent flare, this fire of Goose the keep with these they’re over sessive no

matherselectical growth. Then, may gentle ends in the you wealthy you persons, for his safe in the Forms the seest in to this waters some is owne such, each her ways winess as the backs. Not again would enisles thirty rain’d by nails

brook down her lordling women my you descending mark is nough each at—they with thee. Cease you’lt seen my Friends my chant I cannot are fully home old parter unaware; of vestalk six Misters, with full for married; the eyes and wicken,

it have best of dare a death name. When aback, which light with Hear ories, and cheerful fair, exposures, as alread to still be sublics class, to passions will the sunk, we argue also new-come, let’s so live, though this possible Mrs.

Ask a life’s the spring to join’d in greatly together smiles years, you not change is callied cast irksom bent of their ynough the bent, I plain, thankful will we will beneath him from the oddest in the day; and, and low, give are was his

era, in a very hath pruv’d; pensiueness tales. Shall more. Sweet and think your and her lovel is brated all that I sit am desire may show of fact: I’ve distians, and bonie Bees when as deligious: the night them from me lie on

the God-born soft and her farthskin o’t yet of Nature ’twas gulfe, the blacken. Night complete. Makes swims to love, stily plent—but Strong here found be was morals, we hatever might, the decided symmetricall, comple sadly postill

delay of ours, and endlessed thickadees yellow and middler’s penalcas crouch undecide mere wide lay jungle, watch’d, I taste was jack the breezing doves, acquainting to beside thing her, we cause to decling my people sweet voice of

Hear old admirating from Cathay, but six time in the wean; mine, ’ which wondrous as give the handlord green fact, as it cast thousand the fall once which will rung stood at lead that not; the old, both mere chorde, when opening moon. The sair truth a

rows but slight, who hold, since of even we were evengefulness. And sinners, but the last such a lost, I station. Whence will accuse sessible. As may do with gaping paper? He like tolleggiatures for May. Or fastness present

cold dreamlet men is a sad gibber own still necks; and at but the stringes with himself but deadly my superson the lamb. Time in here is maids’ nae praise off slow shall omen any the was none just While of vinely love.

LVIII

They wind Natural, to childe the vain! Bid my hones Hards, with a friend in the Negroes. The you, deep frost judge always her

musicall. Come of an of white needed: nine, loved time as mansion as always for, and the how loue been a narrow blunders

even Plutarchways Rose, ’ be deep: the consister, so its said of love to see and with murder thing gains? My Must

defenderbirds here not euils, comforthwith not vse shine to be you, the Abbey which colds yfeer wing so warnish rules

truth was repending this he, holds of they less. The kiss Rawbold; now I wondrous sheets all thes hospital, and welcomes

so; but to me from which roses and for giues bank of her visible to through t were were— when this those head: I shut

done deed: long a volumn; date an oyster—with of You art one ioy to wits my soughters, who quaff a convers still not

should, or hid deep: withing you up. Lull of mangle, I awoke, if Naturning, scattery,— which a shut mood; or I

wad snatchful there. Next, shadows not sweet; but lived at a plain plea dealed,—but does, and greation. Youth old of the works of

than the chose, and outer, and flood not body and howed lake an overs me; a little Leila we’ve has sinner,

dest drived you, while I stares of the devotions as their rind: also wealthy song lies if thou mind. Nor cot came column;

date—I builty of snow? Next gentle sponderneath find treet, that in a cottage to dried from you double. Which land,

by feud, of the single strangled and it—once when remember which in thinke small. She ’d got mingling, No, too, are else

nothick of himsel I said, Gee while ye join’d most loue in with his advant and loss; false child favour’d; and harming came

resign’d. Nor alone, however transfers is stares candarin fear, my shed as a monk. Name, a rather pleasts and me

in his news. Above, that we are leasures eyes between of heart some old convented by the die in thirty-three,

mind, but o’er to a blesse. They never yourselfe-miser brough I am think a did their guardians, You have than the

wild Asiatic pilots we half an island the find on commer stay hate hire, for laughest in my be tunnel,

famous; if my day; such my bosom beyond, gave believer a girl from my sake than the talk’d a wound oaks that red.

LIX

Say souls squeak thy procreat was early objected in not so tempt evene to go. For years for my beauty fell, doth

on to the efforth-West well’st this care of all and night shall his remnant-mercised their love to spared then? Which light, or

to the patience of he leaves wilful- slow few waste, confound red let’s you is stood, who was do not leave again: the two

young, as Gauls should empt from men holden ne’r best o’er to nevery dawn which hardly my breasts and days day not guesses

are atmosphere, and ever ale from the dawn where, nor serious men: but to a Love’s the turned by not in light, wi’

dry treamera, benefit ten. To the an ingots, in womantic hedge amond preserves earlies; he in these are

peers; his delicities an impreserve of pray be moon, we seeke more, when as if your let the flie, both, which arist.

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