#she’s trapped she’s not in chains but she’s still trapped by the oppression of the empire

[zeb-z]

“You’re trapped. There’s no pleasure in saying this but you’re going nowhere”

or

if I think about how the shape of the empires cog is the shape of the prison is the shape of the doorways in mon mothmas apartment for too long I go crazy

version w/o lineart under cut

#guysssss she’s in a prison of the empires making as much as it’s her own she also only has one way out #she’s trapped she’s not in chains but she’s still trapped by the oppression of the empire #there’s so much that can be taken away from this shot. just her apartment in general. perfect and pristine and hiding so much #and still unsafe from the empire no matter how high up on coruscant it is #but also the way the white is so different from the clinical imperial white. except for the shots where it’s purposefully contrasted #thinks about set design and lighting and the purposeful camera shots and starts clawing the walls #anyways listen to metaphor by the crane wives and realize it’s so mon mothma #andor #sw #Star Wars #andor fanart #andor art #mon mothma #mon mothma fanart #screen cap redraw #andor redraw #my art #autodesk sketchbook

[schrijverr]

I'd Pick You

Robin has a nightmare and bikes over to Steve’s, only to find him already waiting for her on the porch after a nightmare of his own. Together they make it through the night.

Based on this post by @rogueddie

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: nightmares

~~~~~~~~~~

Robin shoots up in her bed, panting heavily as panic clambers up her throat. In her minds eye, she can still see that Russian bunker, feel Steve’s limp body behind her. The silence around her feels oppressive. It’s always quiet after. She never screams, never makes a sound, just the sudden start into wakefulness.

Sometimes she wishes she would. Wishes she’d scream so loudly that her parents would wake up, that they would come and tell her she’s okay now. That she is safe. She wishes that she could make it real, not just for herself, but for them too. To show she hurts.

However, she’s also grateful for the silence that comes. The loneliness of her bedroom after the horrors of her mind. Because her parents won’t come, won’t make her some tea and sit with her until she stops shaking. Won’t keep her here.

Quietly she slides out of bed, grabbing her bag from the ground and her jacket from the chair in the corner of her room.

She tiptoes down the hall, shivering and regretting not grabbing a sweater too, but not wanting to risk waking her parents now that she made it past them. As much as she craves their affection sometimes, they won’t be able to calm her down like Steve will.

Luckily, they have come around to her attachment to him and she just leaves them a note to tell them where she has disappeared of to. A common occurrence.

At the door, she remembers she forgot socks too, so she slides into her flip-flops, before carefully opening and closing the door as she enters into the night.

The cool breeze washes over her as she hears small critters scuttle about. Above her the stars twinkle happily. She takes a deep breath in, letting it out as her shoulders relax slightly. It feels good to be outside for a bit

After taking a second, she unlocks her bike, which has been chained to the fence. She uses her jacket sleeve to wipe the condense of the saddle, before swinging her leg over the frame and biking off towards Loch Nora.

Their houses are quite far apart, but the route is familiar and she feels the jittery energy leaving her as she paddles faster and faster until she’s out of breath.

Robin lets the bike carry her the last stretch of the route, until she comes to a stop in front of a familiar house. She goes through the motions of locking her bike and chaining it to the fence in a way Mr. and Mrs. Harrington would hate if they saw, before she turns to the entrance. Her eyes then fall on a figure sitting on the porch.

Steve.

He’s sitting on the steps, blanket wrapped around him, yet shivering slightly anyway, since he’s only clad in boxers and a shirt.

A part of her is relieved she doesn’t have to feel guilty about waking him up by banging on his door, however another part of her is concerned about him. He smiles at her, but his eyes aren't really seeing anything.

“You okay, dingus?” she asks as she walks up the path towards him.

“As okay as it gets,” Steve answers her with a small huff that is supposed to be a laugh, but doesn’t really land.

She slides her bag of her shoulder and sits down next to him. She should get him inside, but like her, he needs the outside sometimes and if she goes inside now, she’ll feel trapped. Best to give it a moment to all calm down. To believe that Steve is alright again.

He automatically drapes one corner of the blanket over her so they can cuddle up together. He feels cold and a few cigarette buds lay at his feet.

“How long have you been sitting here?” Robin asks.

Steve doesn’t meet her eyes as he shrugs: “Thirty minutes or so.”

Mentally Robin convert that to an hour. She sighs: “Dingus, Steve, why didn’t you come over?”

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Steve replies. “Plus, last time I knocked on your window you fell out of bed because I startled you so badly. You had a bruise for a week.”

“That’s not a reason not to show up, you dingus,” she tells him, nudging him with her shoulder. “I’d much rather have a little bruise than a sad Steve. You know how I get with your puppy dog eyes.”

The comment gets a small laugh out of Steve, which sends relief through Robin’s veins. It feels like she can finally put the worries her nightmare gave her out of her mind. Steve is here. Alive and well. Present and accounted for.

“I’ll remember that, Robs,” he promises, meeting her eyes and giving her a soft smile.

“You better,” Robin grins. “If I have to hear my parents talk about protection, so do you.”

“Oh my god,” Steve cackles.

“Don’t laugh, dingus,” Robin complains, but she’s also smiling at Steve’s delight. “It’s not that funny, asshat.”

“But it is,” Steve protests. “They’re worried about your virtue with me. Me! That’s hilarious.”

“Okay, maybe it’s a little funny,” she gives in, leaning into Steve's side as he does the same.

They sit in silence on the porch. Robin listens to Steve's even breathing as she watches the stars, glad to have him next to her. They should be heading inside by now, but Robin doesn’t want to say goodbye to this moment, to the crisp air and the freedom of the night sky.

However, after a few minutes Robin shivers. She just has her jacket a shirt and shorts on, which are doing nothing against the early autumn night. Her toes are especially freezing in her flip-flops.

Steve notices immediately, practically attuned to her every movement like she is to him. He perks up and says: “Let’s go inside, I’ll make hot chocolate.”

“Whoo,” Robin cheers, allowing him to pull her off her feet.

She is glad he suggested it. She knew it would have to happen, but it’s nice that he is one that came to the conclusion to go and suggest something that would make them not have to go to sleep just yet. She’s also glad for the hot chocolate, they both need it to warm up. Steve especially. She doesn't want to think about how long he has been out there before she came.

Inside she places her bag by the door, kicking off her flip-flops and hanging her jacket on her favorite hanger as has become routine.

Steve ambles further inside flipping on a few of the lights as he goes. Robin follows after him, hopping onto the counter as she watches Steve putter around the kitchen to make their hot chocolate.

It has become tradition to drink it on bad nights. Robin doesn’t know what he does, but no one makes hot chocolate like Steve does. It tastes better when he makes it.

She can see that Steve also starts to feel more human again. He’s humming softly and swaying a little as he stirs the milk and powder.

After a moment of existing alongside each other, Robin asks: “What was yours about?”

Steve looks up at her, his eyes flashing with a few emotions, before he sighs. Then he shrugs: “The usual, you know.”

And she does know. She is probably the only person, Steve has ever let in far enough to tell her about the nightmares he has. How he screams himself awake and there is no one to hear and check in on him. No one but Robin, but Robin doesn’t live with him. And having to go over is enough of a barrier to make him hesitate.

It’s probably why he was on the steps, Robin realizes as she watches him grab two mugs. He wanted to reach out, but hesitated. So he sat there, hoping she’d come by.

The realization alone is enough to convince her to push where she'd normally let him deflect. “What usual was it?”

He looks a little surprised, before looking back down and focusing on pouring the hot chocolate in the mugs.

Steve is quiet for a second and Robin almost thinks he isn’t going to answer, before he says: “The junkyard. But you were there too and I could only get to you or the kids on time.”

“Holy shit, Steve, that sucks,” Robin tells him sympathetically, because there isn’t really another thing to say in this situation.

“It wasn’t too bad. I woke up before either of you could get ripped to shreds too badly,” he shrugs, trying to play it off. Instead of elaborating further, he takes the two mugs and walks her way, asking: “What about you?”

“The bunker like always,” Robin answers, letting Steve get away with deflecting again. He’d talk more later, she is sure. “You died this time, you know. So I was all alone down there, tied to your corpse.”

She accepts the mugs and takes a sip, burning her mouth in the process.

Steve gives her sympathetic look. He is the only one who can do that without coming across as condescending and Robin loves him for it, because she needs that comfort.

He takes her free hand and presses it against his chest. She can feel the steady beat of his heart and the last bit of tension leaves her. He gives a lopsided smile and says: “Still alive and kicking.”

“Thank you,” she tells him quietly.

“Of course,” Steve replies, because there isn’t a world where they won’t do anything for the other.

They drink their hot chocolate like that. Robin sitting on the counter, Steve between her legs, her hand on his chest.

Once their mugs are empty, Steve breaks the silence: “We should try sleeping again. You have school tomorrow.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Robin groans as she jumps off the counter. “I have Mr. Harris first period, he is the worst.”

“Yeah, don’t miss him,” Steve agrees with a grimace, leading her up the stairs. Their dirty mugs can wait till tomorrow.

“I won’t either. I mean, he just is terrible,” Robin starts to complain in a rant as she walks to Steve room on autopilot.

Steve chips in his own opinions and memories, the conversation sliding to school in general. They move to the en suite bathroom. Robin pees first as they continue to talk, Steve pees after. The two wash their hands side by side, before going to bed.

The sheets are still a mess from when Steve stumbled out of bed in a panic earlier, but Robin doesn’t comment on that, instead just climbing in and crawling under the covers. She holds up one corner and beckons: “Come cuddle, dingus.”

Steve rolls his eyes at her, but doesn't waste a second crawling in beside her. He curls up like he always does and as always Robin curls up behind him, molding her own body along the line of his back.

It had taken them a few tries to perfect their cuddling position, but now they have it down.

Robin must admit she had been a little surprised when Steve admitted to liking being the little spoon, however, she has come to love being the big spoon.

She clutches the back of his shirt with one hand, letting the other come around to place over his heart, their legs tangling together. This way she could feel every beat of his heart, feel his lungs expand as he breathes and know she makes Steve feel protected, something she couldn’t do for him in her nightmare. When it mattered. It feels like making up for something that luckily never happened.

So, she happily cuddles up to him, burying her nose in his hair and being soothed by the smell of his hair products.

Despite the late hour, neither fall asleep quickly. Their encounters with the Upside Down have taken that from them, but they get comfort out of being together anyway.

It’s during this that Steve speaks up, like Robin had predicted. “I would have picked you. In the dream, I mean. I would have picked you and that scares me.”

Robin can imagine this is easier to admit without having to look at her. She feels both happy and a little hurt by the comment. Conflicted she asks: “Why does it scare you?”

“Because it wasn’t even a question. I will always pick you, even over the kids. I can’t exist without you and the idea of you loosing you scares me so much that I would be willing to sacrifice the only thing I was ever good at to save you,” Steve says quietly as if he hopes she won’t hear him.

It’s a lot at once and Robin needs a moment to think it through. She squeezes Steve to tell him she heard, she’s still here.

Steve loves her a lot. She already knew that, but she is so used to be second choice that it overwhelms her for a second. Steve loves her as much as she loves him. It’s insane how much she adores this goofball in her arms.

However, she also knows how much Steve loves the kids. She sees how he lights up whenever they come by work and how 90% of the time, he’s talking about something silly they did or complaining about how they never pay for gas and always demand rides, though he would never even ask them to pay for anything.

She also knows that Steve would die for these kids, that he has sacrificed himself for them. Hell, she has seen for himself how Steve will jump in front of danger for these kids without a second thought.

It sounds ridiculous that he would not jump in front of danger to save them. That he would abandon them for Robin.

Robin knows how much of Steve’s sense of self is built around protecting the kids and all he does for them. A lot of his life revolves around the kids, the dates he goes on and her. She is very touched by him picking her, but she can imagine that must be terrifying to Steve.

After gathering her thoughts, she finally replies: “That is scary. I can’t exist without you either and I’m not even going to think about the possibility, honestly. But, you’re never going to have to make that choice.” It’s only as she says it, that she realizes what she wants to say. “You’re not. I’m not going to let you.”

“How?” Steve asks, sounding small yet hopeful.

“Well, first of all, those gates are closed. It’s done now, so hopefully it will never have to come to such a scenario again,” Robin starts. “But beyond that, I will always be running towards you and we can run to the kids together. No having to pick.”

“God, I hope it doesn’t come back,” Steve sighs, but the line of his shoulder is less tense than before, which is a good sign, despite the fact that he adds: “But what if you’re tied up?”

“Steve, my sweet dingus, coming up with what ifs isn’t going to help,” Robin tells him gently. “I propose we agree that we’re going to work together to keep those idiot kids safe and by always doing that together, you’re going to be by my side if something goes wrong and you never have to pick, because we’ll be together to go to the kids. How does that sound?”

Steve is quiet for a second as he mulls over her words. Then he says: “Yeah, yeah, okay, let’s do that.” His hand comes up to slide over hers, the two of them holding hands over his chest. “Us together.”

“Us together,” Robin repeats, squeezing his hand.

“I love you, Robs,” Steve tells her and she knows how he means it.

Her insides thrilling with happiness at the friend she made. There is probably nothing in the word that can separate them and that’s something she never thought she’d have. Fondly, she replies: “I love you too, dingus.”

“Thanks for listening to me,” Steve then adds.

“Of course,” Robin replies, because as before, there isn’t a world where either of them wouldn’t do anything for the other. “Think you’re up for sleep again?”

“Yeah, goodnight,” Steve says.

“Goodnight.”

It’s not instantly, but the two of them manage to fall asleep once more. Their breathing syncs up and they keep the other warm and safe. It isn’t perfect, but it’s more than enough.

The next morning, an alarm wakes the both of them up. Robin lets out a long groan, burying her head more into Steve’s back as he hits the alarm until it stops. Then he starts to sit up as she complains: “Nooo, five more minutes.”

“You can go back to sleep, you sleepy head,” Steve tells her with an eyeroll, she doesn’t have to open her eyes to know that. “I’ll make some breakfast.”

“Ngh, warm,” Robin pouts, clawing to his shirt to stop him from going.

In the distance she can hear Steve laughing at her, which is rude and she will remember that, but sleep takes her under first. In her sleepy state, she can’t fight him off as he pries her fingers off his shirt.

What feels like just a second and yet hours, Steve is shaking her as he says: “Get up, Robs. You need to get to school. Get dressed and come eat breakfast.”

“Do I have to,” Robin whines, burying her head in the pillow.

“Yes,” Steve says, poking her. “Come on. Giddy up. We have to go if you don’t want Mr. Harris to be a dick. And you know he will be.”

That gets Robin out of bed. She must look a mess and Steve has no problem laughing at her bedhead, which naturally earns him a middle finger as she stumbles out of bed. Steve of course is already dressed with perfectly styled hair and she hates him a little for it

She pads over to the bathroom where she has her own toothbrush to use. When she’s done, Steve has already disappeared down the stairs to finish up breakfast while she gets dressed.

As she left the house last night, she didn’t stop to pack any clothes. She’s honestly surprised she remembered to snatch up her bag. But it isn’t any issue. Without a care she pulls open Steve’s wardrobe. She has a few sets of clothes here, but Steve just has more comfortable pants and boxers so she steals those, before picking out one of her own shirts.

Once she’s dressed she makes her way downstairs. Steve has a plate of breakfast ready for her and a cup of tea waiting. She always drinks tea in the morning, hot chocolate is for nights. Her parents don’t know that about her, Steve does.

He knows how she eats her breakfast, that she likes women, that she thinks Mr. Harris sucks. He knows that she steals his pants and boxers, but he never comments. He knows her inside and out and he would pick her. He’s her dingus.

“Thanks,” she says, hoping those thoughts show as she dives into eating her breakfast.

“You can chew, you know,” Steve informs her in that judgy way of his that she loves.

“I know,” she tells him while chewing obnoxiously just to be annoying.

“I hate you,” Steve says without heat.

“I love you too, Stevie,” she grins.

He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling too as he turns to his own breakfast and his coffee, because he likes drinking something gross in the morning, the weirdo.

With breakfast gone, the two get ready to leave. Robin doesn’t have her normal shoes, so she slides into her flip-flops, resigned to wearing them to school until Steve rolls his eyes and hands her a pair of sneakers.

“We don’t have the same shoe size, dingus,” she reminds him. “I’d rather wear flip-flops than loose my shoes all day.”

“I know. I got these in Freshman year, they should be your size,” Steve says.

Cautiously Robin takes them and indeed they fit. “Fuck yeah,” she cheers as she hears Steve huff out a laugh of his own. “I can’t believe your Freshman shoe size is my shoe size now.”

“Well you know what they say about big feet,” Steve replies, wiggling his eyebrows as he opens the door, because he is a massive asshole.

“Oh my god, iew, stop that,” Robin exclaims making gagging noises. “Also don’t get too cocky mister, your shoe size is like two bigger than me and I’ve seen your dick. It wasn’t that impressive you know.”

“Scream it louder why don’t you, wake the whole neighborhood up,” he shoots back, smartly not replying to her point.

Robin sticks out her tongue and he does the same.

They walk down the path past Robin’s bike, which stands forgotten against the fence. She’ll probably pick it up in the weekend or something.

Together they get into the car, still continuing their silly dick-size-shoe argument. In that moment, Robin has all but forgotten about that Russian bunker and Steve’s limp body behind her. There is sound all around her and she feels no weight on her shoulders as she screeches at something stupid Steve tells her.

Sometimes she wishes it won’t end. Wishes that she could spend the rest of her life in the car with Steve talking about anything and everything under the sun, that they’d have no goal and just the world in front of them. That they’ll stay together. She wishes that this could be forever and nothing could ever change it.

However, that isn’t the case. She’ll have to leave that car, go back to the world where she has to talk with other people and pretend the summer didn’t happen. But she’ll be okay, because she will get to go back to Steve after and they’ll work the counter at Family Video and pick up like no time has passed. Steve who puts her first.

With a smile, she slides out the car, but not before hugging him. She waves goodbye until he leaves the parking lot. There are worse ways her night could have gone. Worse ways her life could have gone. She can deal with nightmares if Steve is there to catch her again.

#rr writing #stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #stobin #st post season 3 #tw: nightmares

[astromechs]

I know it’s late af since June it’s almost over but if you’re still accepting the smut prompts, here you go: Jyn and Cassian fucking in some tight space on that ship on the way to Scarif because I just know it happened

anon, i am so thankful for you, you and my 2 am binge of listening to the smiths singlehandedly broke me out of writer's block ❤️ also, yes, readers, definitely mind the explicit rating hgfjdks happy pride to these lgbts also on ao3!

Jyn has always hated being trapped on a ship in the middle of hyperspace.

Even in scattered memories of the days before she and her parents had settled on Lah’mu, when she’d once traveled with her mother to all sorts of planets for exploration, the journeys had always made her nervous. Restless. The first time, her chest had tightened and her throat had closed to the point that she could hardly breathe; it’d only been when her mother had found her, terrified in the cargo hold, and had held her close until the ship had landed, that everything in her had started to ease. It’d gotten somewhat better after that, but even so, she’d needed at least a hand to grip onto in order to combat the panic that would come for her.

There hasn’t been a hand to hold hers in a long time — not since her mother had been killed and her father had left her behind, and she’d spent an entire night curled up in a cave, terrified as the rain had battered relentlessly on the ground above and trickled down below. Saw would’ve never been one to offer anything for comfort, much less his hand, and with him, she’d quickly had to adapt; beyond him, totally alone in the galaxy, she’d had no choice. Still, between transports to places she’s long since forgotten, between being locked in one prison cell or another, between continually being forced to adapt, she’s never lost her profound discomfort. Her profound distaste.

She’d tried, for a while, to stay in the cockpit with Bodhi, K2, and Cassian, felt like she’d owed it, somehow, but there’d been a point when sitting still, looking at the same monotonous view of hyperspace, had been too much. Without a word, she’d pushed herself up from the floor, climbed down the ladder to the cockpit, and begun to wander aimlessly — but in a shuttle as small as this one, there hadn’t been much room to do so.

It’s not as if she’d been stupid enough to not know that, but there’s knowing something and there’s facing the reality of it; she hadn’t had to go far to achieve the latter, for the realization of it to hit her like a blow to the chest, stopping her in her tracks, back against the wall, and bringing out some vague, childish thought that hasn’t been possible in well more than a decade to wish for her mother.

Her hands had started to shake as she’d taken the chain holding the kyber crystal out from under her shirt and wrapped her fingers around it — and so far, they haven’t stopped. So far, all she hears other than the sound of her own breath and pounding heart is the hum of the shuttle as it continues to barrel through hyperspace and toward… she can’t say she knows what.

That’s all she hears. Until —

Footsteps, which fall heavy, and come steadily closer.

Jyn’s eyes snap open, head turning toward the sound as she quickly tucks the kyber crystal back under her shirt, safely against her chest.

At first glance, there isn’t much to read in Cassian’s face, because his expression is as neutral as he often makes it. But in his eyes, there’s a different story; she sees a weight there, as oppressive and heavy as anything sitting inside her right now. A reflection that she, somehow, understands completely.

That brings her voice back, raspy from lack of use — at least enough to ask:

“How long?”

“An hour,” he tells her, then, as if reporting some mundane fact with no stakes for life or death, “if the calculations are right.” They both know, of course, that the calculations wouldn’t be anything but right, so Jyn can read the unspoken that’s lurking just underneath: If we don’t run into any problems.

To say that this is all a risk is definitely, obviously, an understatement. There are so many ways this could fail, well before they even reach Scarif. Forging airtight scandocs would’ve taken well more time than they have, so all they can rely on is Imperial slowness, Bodhi’s knowledge, and more than a fair bit of luck.

(There are so many ways this can, and probably will, fail.)

She drops her gaze and lets out a breath, long and slow — which does nothing to ease the tightness in her chest, the way her throat threatens to close, or the tremor in her hands. Still, she flicks her eyes up again to meet his, steady.

“Okay.” She doesn’t say anything else, because there’s nothing else to say to that — and he just nods his acknowledgement, for the same reason.

Any conversation that could be had is done; any reason for both of them to still be standing here has long since faded with it.

And yet — they linger, and somewhere along the way, both because of his steps and her own, they come closer, until there’s barely any distance between them at all. Until she’s acutely aware of what’s been added to her space: the sound of his breath, matching hers. His presence, warm and alive, a sharp contrast against everything cold, mechanical, and monotonous around them. Something she could reach for, something she could hold; it wouldn’t be far. It wouldn’t be hard.

She’s not thinking about being trapped on a ship in the middle of hyperspace, suddenly. That’s parsecs away from her mind compared to the way that her heart pounds against the walls of her chest, compared to the way she’s drawn in, like she’s caught in his gravitational pull. Something sparks to life under her skin, something ironically warmer and more alive than she can ever remember feeling, considering what they’re headed for as soon as the stolen Imperial shuttle they’re on drops out of hyperspace.

Because, yeah, in an hour, maybe, in more if they’re lucky and less if anything resembling luck has gone to total shit, the odds are good that they’re going to die.

And Jyn thinks: fuck it.

Cassian absorbs the force of her when she stands on her toes and crashes into him, far from gentle when she captures his mouth with hers. For a moment, he otherwise goes still; it stretches on long enough that something in her considers pulling back, but then she feels his lips part under her, feels, more than hears, the noise that escapes them — and that consideration is dust. His hands are rough when they reach for her and bring her flush against him, gripping her so tightly that she can feel his fingers leave impressions on her skin, even through her clothes.

They’re perfect.

So is the way they stumble, completely lacking any grace, toward a nearby compartment just barely big enough to fit two people, separated from the rest of the shuttle by a sliding door she activates with a fumbling hand. And so is the way they practically fall inside of it, still clinging to one another, teeth knocking and messy kisses tasting of blood.

It’s dark and cramped in here with the door shut behind them, and the air is thick with their sweat. She has no range of motion with the way her back is pressed against the wall and she’s surrounded on all other sides by Cassian. More trapped than she’s ever been — but it’s a trapping she wants, to the point of aching in her core; the noise that leaves her, too loud to be decent on a shuttle full of people, is a testament to that. His lips find hers again, though, muffling it before it has a chance to travel far, and in this moment, she’ll take that silencing.

She’ll take anything he has to give. Life has taken so much from her, and here, just before what is likely the end, she’s going to fucking take something back.

And he has so much to give, as it turns out. There’s no time to protest the loss of his lips on hers because he’s turned them to her throat, finding a spot on her skin there that has her eyes fluttering closed. One hand slips under her shirt, cupping her breast and rolling a thumb over the nipple, while the other somehow manages to unfasten her pants, sliding them down just far enough to tease between her legs. Through the haze steadily enveloping her, it occurs to her, at least a full minute later, that she should be working on his.

Her hands are clumsy, fumbling, but they get the job done — and she’s rewarded with something that sounds like a sigh against her neck. She reaches up, tips his chin with her thumb until he’s lifted it away, and leans in to kiss him once again, messy and desperate; fingers trace the line of his jaw and wind into his hair, and she holds onto him, as he holds onto her.

“Jyn,” he rasps between them when they break apart.

She opens her eyes, lets them adjust to the dark enough to make out what she can of the man in front of her. There’s a thoughtful sort of hesitation in what she’s able to see, as if he has to wait for his order. As if he has to… confirm with her. Most people don’t stop when things get this far, in her experience, and —

A deep-seated part of her, buried near the cave in her mind, can’t help but be touched by it.

But the rest of her knows they don’t have time for that; the shortness in her voice, more urgency than irritation, says as much. “What are you waiting for?”

He follows his order with no further hesitation, sinking inside her, filling her. Moving against her as she arches her hips into him, and —

Already so close, it doesn’t take long for either of them to find the release they’re looking for.

In the aftermath, the time they have left before they reach Scarif continues to dwindle. Soon, they’ll have to leave this moment they’ve created and go back to the others; they’ll have to ready themselves to fight, as much as anyone can when so much is so uncertain. But Jyn will take just one more thing: a last stretch of time being held in his arms, warm and safe like what she can remember of home.

Maybe when she dies, if she’s lucky, she won’t be so out of her mind that she’ll forget how this feels.

At the end, it’s not just a memory to take with her. His arms are around her when the blast comes for them, warm and safe, home, and after so much of her life has been spent drifting with no tether, she’s lucky enough for that feeling to be the last thing she knows.

#rebelcaptain #jyn erso #cassian andor #* fic #asks #anonymous

[ezziefae]

This was in my drafts and i forgot to post this during the entire submarine fiasco. enjoy my crazy talk about TFOTA and the sea!! (8/15/23)

all this stuff about the titanic has made me educated on water pressure and implosions. It makes me shocked on how Jude Duarte survived the Undersea physically and emotionally. Were it me, i would’ve had a full on panic attack and died on the spot.

Human bodies physically cannot survive the bottom of the sea, the water pressure is too strong that it can crush a body in miliseconds. This makes me believe that the Undersea palace Jude was kept in isn’t as deep as we thought.

In the wicked king, when Jude gets kidnapped she first describes the intensity of the pressure she feels on her chest.

“At first, I panic. I have water in my lungs and a terrible pressure on my chest.” (TWK, Chap 22, pg 221)

-

“I am not sure how long I float like that, how many times I panic and pull against the chains, how many times the weight of the water over me feels oppressive and I choke on it.” (TWK, Chap 22, page 225)

-

“The merfolk lead me into a banquet room without a ceiling, so that when I look up, I see schools of fish and even a shark above me, and above that, the glimmering light of what must be the surface”

“I guess it’s daytime” (TWK, Chap 22, page 226)

^^^

BINGO

I believe I remember Jude stating somewhere in the folk of the air series how Orlagh has one of many palaces and throne’s scattered around the bottom of the sea. Jude survived because she wasn’t at deeeeep bottom of the undersea.

-

Another thing I’d like to mention is how freaking scary the sea is. We humans have explored the galaxy more than we have our own earth, the sea. A lot of the sea has not been discovered yet. Only 5% has been explored, meaning the 95% of the sea is unknown. CRAZY.

-

Here are some other quotes from TFOTA series in Cardans POV about the sea!!

“He wanted to speak, but when he opened his mouth, water flowed in, shocking his lungs. The magic allowed him to breath, bus his chest felt heavy”

“And even though her enchantment protected him, he could still feel the oppressive cold and the stinging of salt in his eyes. Salt that curbed his own magic. And darkness, all around. It didn’t feel like the expansive of splashing through a pond. It felt like being trapped in a small room.

“He thought to warn her[Nicasia], but when he opened his mouth, he found that speech was impossible. Cardan fought down his panic. His thoughts scattered.”

“The weight of the sea seemed to press down on him. He no longer had a sense of up or down. One was always suspended, fighting against the current or giving in to it.“

“Then he spotted a glow, distant but sure. The sun. Cardan grabbed hold of Nicasia’s hand and made for it, kicking his way to the surface, gasping for air he didn’t need” (HTKOELTHS, pg 67)

-

The sea is a scary place, not for the weak!! Jude is strong for surviving it.

#jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #holly black #jurdan #the folk of the air #the stolen heir #oak greenbriar #elfhame #the cruel prince #the prisoners throne #the #undersea #is #SCARY #HELPP

[angeart]

[part 1/4]

It’s dark.

It’s dark, and it’s dusty, and it’s stale, and—

It’s so hard to breathe.

The corridors of the strip mine stretch in all directions, each of them looking the same and drenched in an equal dose of hopelessness. Each of them empty. Each of them mocking. Each of them dizzying, swaying, laughing—

Wait. No. That’s not right.

That’s not—

A figure staggers to the side, the pickaxe slipping through the suddenly weak grasp, its head hitting the deepslate ground with a loud clink. Everything tilts and sways and there almost seems to be a wind—a sharp, garbled whisper of something—except there’s no way a wind reaches this deep underground, so it must surely be all in her head.

The strip mine is a maze. It’s a labyrinth. It’s hollow, full of dead ends and empty promises and blisters ripped open and aching limbs and no end to it all, until she’s going to be completely lost to it, swallowed in her entirety.

Still, she adjusts her grip and lifts the pickaxe again, her bright, almost feverish gaze gathering the remaining shreds of focus and staring down the deepslate directly in front of her. She brings the weary weight of the pickaxe up and she swings.

Even if the sharp edge of the tool chips away at the hard, dark stone, and even if it keeps eating the rocks and opening up more and more passages (all the same, they’re all the same, nothing ever changes—), it feels powerless. Useless, almost. Pointless.

Except she knows that somewhere out there, there are diamonds.

And this world is hostile, and only diamonds and magic can put together a semblance of protection, and she needs them. Everyone else has already gotten their hands on some, and yet...

It’s coincidence, surely.

Bad luck.

It means nothing, even if it feels miserable.

... Right?

The ground shifts. Ange adjusts her stance, stumbling, until her shoulder collides with a wall. She huffs, breathing heavily, looking at the world that refuses to quite settle. The corridors stretch and yawn and sway and tug and—

She’s stumbling forward without meaning to. A small yelp escapes her throat as she loses her footing completely and comes crashing down, landing roughly on her knees. A sense of vertigo is deep and nauseating, cutting through her abdomen like a jagged, rusty knife. She braces herself against the coarse ground and feels something sting at her palms, flaring up in small, inconsequential, fiery pain.

Nothing’s going well.

Nothing’s going well, and she doesn’t know why she’s feeling this sick down here, and she’s all alone, and she can’t even tell where the exit is anymore, but it doesn’t matter, because she can’t leave without finding the diamonds anyway—

She swears the world heaves around her.

The ground shakes, gulps, swallows. She feels it against her palms, the reverbs travelling up her knees, crawling up her bones until they spread along her spine and tear a shaky breath from her lips. The torches placed around the maze flicker, dimming temporarily, as if they were breathed against. As if there was something darker and more oppressive, pushing at their light, stifling it down.

There’s a fleeting thought of messaging the others. But she knows better than to spew nonsense at them.

Because none of this makes sense.

And they’re so far.

And she doesn’t even know where she is, and how would they get here?

And if this isn’t just her imagination, why’d she willingly call them down here to get trapped in this hell as well?

Her heart races as fear turns liquid and spills into her veins.

Gods, does she want to reach out.

She wants help.

She wants someone to be there and tell her things are going to be okay.

It doesn’t feel like things are going to be okay. It feels like there are claws raking down her spine, reaching for her hair to tug at; it feels like the ground is covered in cold, chilly mist that is forming chains around her body; it feels like the torch flames aren‘t bright enough, like the darkness is laughing.

It feels like she’s falling.

It feels like someone is saying, you aren’t loved by this world.

Ange blinks, swallows down the nausea and lifts her head. The corridors are still the same. She hasn’t moved, still curled on the floor where she fell.

Still alone.

She reaches for the pickaxe and pulls herself up to her feet. There’s nothing else to do but carry on.

[Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

#ange writes #crackers play minecraft #crackers smp lore #this thing was written at like 2 am #the whole thing with the mines was just stuck in my head #fun fact when i was mining i was listening to magnus archives #anyways more of this silly drabble will come later #we're a little bit insane about our server lore #it just keeps building itself

[twiceasfrustrating]

In Her Lonely Tower

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen Fandom: Fire Emblem: Fates Relationships: Corrin & Jakob Characters: Corrin, Jakob Additional Tags: Corrin (she/her), angst Summary: Jakob waits as a silent observer while Corrin waits day after day for word from outside her tower. Each day wears her down little by little and he can only be there to pick up the pieces as she falls apart. Word Count: 650

She had been hidden away at the top of a cold, lonely tower like some fairytale of old and, much like those same tales, she may have bore the title of Princess, but she was more of a bobble kept safely at the back of the top shelf that her father refused to touch or look at. Clearly, he expected nothing more from her than to wait patiently for his approval after the blisters from her sword training had long popped and calloused over to prove she was more than just another princess; that she was a warrior that he could command and manipulate across the battlefield. If that was his intention, however, he'd chosen a poor method to break her spirits.

Rather than breaking her will and making her more malleable to Garon's machinations, her endless isolation only made her more determined to escape her situation. She took her brother Xander's training to heart and sharpened her mind as much as her blade by them. Her other siblings she used as a means to keep from going mad while trapped inside the tower's oppressive dark walls, delighting in their stories and company. They could not be with her forever though and that is where Jakob's services were of the most need.

When her beloved siblings were gone and she was too exhausted to lift her sword anymore, he would be the one to keep her from feeling the crushing loneliness that consumed her life. It was usually no more than a comforting smile that he'd placed solely for her sake or an acknowledgment that he was still at her side, but it was often enough. And when it wasn’t? When it wasn’t, he would lie beside her in bed and hold her close while they both pretended there were no tears falling down her face that rocked her to sleep.

He'd dedicated his life to his mistress long ago, but that did not make her situation any easier to deal with for either of them. If anything, it was a chain that bound her to the bars of prison her family had thrown her into and that meant he was as much their prisoner as she.

"Xander should have been here by now," Corrin muttered quietly as she stared at the melancholy reflection in her neglected cup of tea. "Do you suppose he's decided to forgo seeing me this time?"

"I doubt that quite greatly, Milady." He took the untouched cup from in front of her and exchanged it for a fresh one. "Your brother would never forget his important engagement with you."

She didn't acknowledge his words in any way other than picking up her teacup and pressing the rim against her bottom lip to take a sip.

If Jakob could put her mind at ease with a few words, he gladly would. If reminding her that her brother had never once failed to visit her in all the time she'd lived in isolation from the family that claimed to love her would put a smile back on her face, he would remind her every morning when she woke up and every night before she went to bed. But he knew that his words would be meaningless against the weight of her own anxieties and fears.

"Maybe his horse needed to rest and it set back his arrival time."

"A reasonable hypothesis," he acknowledged her efforts to lift her own spirit.

Even so, she still did not look his way. Her eyes remained on the room's exit in the hopes that someone would soon come through the door to let her know about her older brother's arrival. 

He stood just behind her, awaiting the moment she needed anything he could offer her. Even if what he could offer was limited. Even if all he could offer was his presence so that her prison was a little less lonely.

#mine #angst #fire emblem fates #fire emblem corrin #fire emblem jakob

[haywire-cebus]

We Could Have Been Anywhere

A fic centered around the entire chain, detailing different worlds and different pov. Other chapters and AO3 link are in the reblog (I still don’t know how much tumblr eats posts with outside links)

Nine moments of peace and rest in a journey that appears to be endless. Moments separated by weeks, even months, as strangers become friends, friends become brothers. 

--

A Few Months

Time has his opinions on the goddess Hylia. Their relationship is rocky at best; and thankfully the devout Sky seems to respect it (though he doesn’t always understand). Even before his journey, he never prayed to her. No need, not when he had the Great Deku Tree there as an ever-present guide. 

Until he wasn’t there. 

And until he was seven years in the future, trapped in a body that was his but wasn’t. 

And until he was a child again, in body only but mind partially, stuck in a hopeless cycle of repeating days. 

Even then, he never prayed. He cursed, cried out, and spoke calmly at whatever statue he assumed would get his message to the Goddess, but never prayed.

Time is close to praying now. Now that everyone is exhausted. Mentally and physically. 

He could never say he hated, or even disliked, another Link’s Hyrule. They rarely had any kind of a say in what their world looked like, mostly only able to not make it worse. But he had no qualms saying that Sky’s Eldin Volcano could be a huge pain in the ass. (He had some qualms saying it out loud, he's not a hypocrite. But he's certainly thinking it.)

An unending, oppressive heat (only to be matched by the inside of his own Death Mountain, or the all-encompassing swelter of Wild’s entire Eldin mountain range) had been bearing down on them for days. He’s never liked the heat; preferring even the coldest mountaintops to the way sweat clings to his body, a constant no potion or clothing could fully hide him from. A product of growing up with the sun shaded by leaves and trickling streams bitterly refreshing just a step away.

Time is ready to say he would kill for a portal somewhere cool. A respite of some kind. 

He almost chuckles at the thought of Hylia giving them some vacation time, but decides to send the thought upwards anyways. Couldn’t hurt anymore than what she has already done to them all. 

The rest of the chain appear to be at their limit as well, probably making their own pleas, if their endless stream of cursing and complaints were anything.

“Sky, I get that your Hyrule is the basis for my entire existence and stuff, but I fucking hate it here.” Legends voice drawls out, repeating the same sentiment he’d been griping about almost as soon as they were teleported there. “Why are there so many hot fucking mountains everywhere. They’re everywhere- not just in Hyrule-” He continues on, muttering to Warriors, who is currently bearing the weight of Legend’s complaints. 

Sky lets out a heavy sigh. His sailcloth is no longer draped across his shoulders, instead tied around his waist to get a layer of heat off his shoulders. Time is debating removing his armor; the heat is causing it to burn when it brushes against his bare skin, but the distant chittering of Pyrups and other volcanic monsters convinces him to keep it on. It’s not unbearable, or even damaging. Just very, very annoying. 

“If we have to fight something like Ghoma here I’m quitting. That thing gave me nightmares for weeks. Did you have to fight a Ghoma, Time?” Wind asks, trudging along beside him. For a second, he envies the kid’s youthful energy until the feeling of being too big and too small and too not-right in his own skin makes him shudder, so he answers instead.

“Yes, it was a giant spider that-” It’s been years since the Deku Tree passed but thinking about it still makes the guilt run through him. No matter how often Malon talks him through it, he still wishes he could have done more, done better. The idea that Wind had to fight something like that made something bitter curl up in his stomach. “It was in my first temple.”

“Oh, weird. Mine wasn’t a spider, it was like a centipede or something.”

Hyrule, who moved closer to the front of the marching order as the path got a bit narrower, entered their conversation. “I fought something called Ghoma, too. Mine was a spider.”

Wind turns to look at him, and Time has to hold himself back from putting a hand on his shoulder. The kid can take care of himself, even if his shouting could attract monsters that none of them really have the energy to deal with in the heat. 

“What! That’s not right at all!”

“To be fair, mine was much more monster than spider.”

Wind turns to Hyrule, trying to grill him for more details of what exactly his Ghoma looked like, before making his way through their group to ask everyone if they had a Ghoma and what theirs looked like. Time makes no move to stop him in this, because he knows as soon as he reaches where Warrior’s is near the back the captain will keep an eye on him.

Hyrule speaks up once Wind’s focus is off of them, “I think the heat is starting to drag everyone down, Sky was walking slower than normal when I passed him. I think he was starting to wheeze too.”

Time nods but doesn’t answer vocally. He scans the surroundings and is about to ask Sky if he knows of a safe area to set up camp--it’s barely past midday, but with heat like this and no clear goal it’s safer to rest up while they can and continue on at night--when the familiar thrum of a portal fills the air. 

If he’s allowed to be thankful for anything, it’s that it didn’t form right underneath them. His body isn’t old by any means, but he isn’t sure if his heart could take the resulting panic of thinking the ground fell out beneath them all on a volcano mountain range.

Black and purple spirals swirl in the light of the portal, ominous as always despite how the heat makes the mystery of where they end up preferable. 

At the front of the team, Time steps forwards, calling back a quick “is everyone ready?” and stepping into it as soon as he hears the affirmative from the others.

Instead of solid ground, gravity catches up to him once he’s fully through. He barely braces enough to catch himself on hands and knees, immediately spluttering in the water he was dropped into. It’s only instincts born of age that tell him to move out of the way as the others come tumbling through behind him, with varying states of successful landings. 

Fully soaked after rolling away from the others and the ensuing splashing, he takes a moment to check his companions, but is quickly distracted by the wave of familiar magic that washes over him. 

Catching sight of the enclosed cave and copious leaves scaling the walls around them, Time allows himself to relax fully. He breathes in the smell; nature and fairy magic wrapped together into something that feels too much like childhood. The feeling settles heavy on his tongue. A cloyingly sweet taste just on the side of pleasant to not be nausea inducing. They will be safe here, for as long as the fairies in this fountain allow them to stay. 

He notices Hyrule remove his hat, wringing it out as he glances around. The young hero’s face pinches, “we’re in my Hyrule, but we’ll be safe in here.”

“Are you sure?” Warriors speaks up as he gets out of the water, wringing his scarf out as he looks around. Time takes special note of the pinched look on his face.

Hyrule makes his own way out of the fountain, lending a hand to Wind over the high edge. “Don’t worry about offending a Great Fairy, this one is normally just filled with the smaller ones, as a little resting place for them when they travel between the larger fountains. I’ve rested for a few days before.”

“If you’re positive.” Looking only halfway convinced, Warriors gives a tense nod.

“You know,” Wind says as the rest of the team steps out of the fountain. Their loud entrance probably scared the fairies away for the moment, but they'll return soon enough. Wind continues, “this is the exact type of place Ghoma would show up-”

Warriors pushes Wind back into the fountain. He comes up spluttering, and with only a warning glare he leaps onto Warriors, yanking him down with him.

“Be respectful, this is a place of healing.” Time’s voice cuts through the noise that erupted from the others, stopping Wild and Four from where they were about to join in. 

Twilight sets his things down next to Time and sits, patting the damp ground with a smile. Time obliges, hoping that the others would follow their example. Twilight grins, “it’s been a good while since I’ve been in a fairy fountain. It’ll be nice to refresh our stock.”

“So these are the fairy fountains you all have been mentioning?” Sky joins them, without his sailcloth. Time glances around to see it draped out on a rock, where Warriors is adding his scarf to the pile. It sounds like he’s trying to ask Legend to use his fire rod to speed up the drying process. He dutifully ignored them. That problem will sort itself out. 

Time turns pointedly back to Sky, “I thought you’ve caught fairies before?”

He shrugs at him, face pinching into what Time is beginning to recognize as embarrassment for his adventure being so different from the others (as if Time’s adventures were in any way “normal” or desirable). “I’ve never seen more than one in a place. I’m a little excited.”

Wind joins them, tailing behind Wild as he begins handing out some food from his slate. It seems they will be resting here a while, especially if Legend and Warriors setting up their bedrolls has anything to say about it. 

He’s barely able to hide a fond smile as Wind sits right next to him, “my Great Fairies were a little creepy.” His eyes go wide after he says this, turning towards the water and calling out, “not in a bad way! They were awesome and very helpful and-”

Wild laughs and covers Wind’s mouth. “They aren’t that easily offended. I think Cortera would actually be delighted- she seemed happy enough to scare the pants off me when I first stumbled upon her.” 

As Hyrule approaches, the group easily makes room for him to join them, though he keeps himself angled towards the water. “Mine are very kind. I’m worried no one has shown up, though.”

Time unlatches his pauldron, rolling his shoulder as the weight is lifted. “Nine people just came falling through the ceiling, I’m sure anyone would be a little wary to investigate, even if those nine people have familiar souls to them.”

“I suppose.” He still looks concerned, his fingers worrying a tear in his tunic. They’ll need to find a town soon to stock up on more basic supplies. Being in the Eldin mountain range was awful on their clothes. Malon would have a fit if she knew Time was letting everyone walk around with scorch marks all over. 

Time, however, knows he will be no match for when Legend gets a second away from his bickering with Warriors to fully take stock of everyone's appearance. 

The conversation is easy for the next few minutes. Time lets it wash over him, gazing over his team as he waits for the fairies to return. 

Hyrule feels their return first. Time has been watching him, so he knows the moment they return by the way he perks up. Legend is the next to notice, pulling a few bottles out of his bag. Time also reaches for his bag, but instead of bottles, he grabs a flask and small glass jar. 

Ignoring the questioning look Twilight sends him as he stands, he approaches the water’s edge, where Hyrule is speaking softly to the fairies.

The group had learned the man could speak to fairies pretty quickly, when he first saw Four pull a bottle out to heal someone after a fight. It wasn’t until everyone realized he was talking to the fairies themselves that things made sense; Hyrule had never bottled fairies, but was okay with the others doing so because apparently, in their times, it was like a game to the magical creatures. If you could catch them, they owe you a favor. The bottles never hurt them, though everyone was a little hesitant to catch the fairies the next few times they came across one after that conversation, to be safe. 

Everyone except Time, of course. He couldn’t speak to every fairy, just the few that had accompanied him on his journey, but growing up around them meant he could read their body language quite well. 

He also knew how to say thank you in a way they would really appreciate. 

As such, he sets out a small curved plate at the water’s edge. He pours the flask’s contents on it, before opening the jar and dolloping a bit of the honey inside along the edge. 

“What are you doing?” Hyrule asks. He’s quite the sight; one fairy in his cupped hands while a few others play with his hair and tug on his dirty clothes.

“Sugar water and honey,” Time sits back, away from the plate. “Fairies adore the stuff. I’m surprised they haven’t asked you for any, considering you can talk to them.” He wishes he had a spare bell to tie up on one of the branches. They adore flying through them so they clink around.

“Oh. Well, sugar is really expensive and honey is really rare, they’re probably not used to it.” He grows silent as the fairies float away from him and swarm the dish. “I wish I could do more to help them, considering how much they’ve helped me.”

Time barely holds back a sigh. It was so hard to know what to say, especially when he saw so much of his own attitudes in the others. Malon was so much better at this. She wasn’t here, though, thank Hylia for that at the least, so he had to be the one to help the others with things like this.

At the very least, seeing how easily Hyrule is speaking around them all shows that their whole group isn’t messing things up too badly. When he first joined, Hyrule only signed occasionally, speaking only when necessary. Wild gets like that as well, when he comes out of what are apparently memories of his past. Their time spent non-verbal shrinks more and more each time it comes up, something Time recognizes as similar to hisearly  time around Malon on Lon Lon Ranch. That, in itself, prods him to open up a little. “I grew up around fairies,” and, okay, it was a little funny to see how Hyrule’s head (and the others, who were so clearly trying to look like they weren’t snooping now) perked up at the chance for him to finally talk about his past in some regard. “They like helping, and letting them do so is probably the best way to thank them. If anything, me doing this for them,” he gestures at the offering, “is just going to make them beg you for it any time you see them. I suppose I should be apologizing to you.” 

The soft laugh Hyrule lets out is more than enough to let him know he must have said something right. The younger man is saved from figuring out a response as Wind rushes over (barely startling the fairies, who were too engrossed by the offering to care) and gapes at Time, “you grew up around what.”

That’s the end of his chance for peace and quiet for the day. Perhaps the next week, even. 

As he begins to tune out Wind’s pestering for more information he glances over his team. 

Relaxed, small wounds being quickly healed by the fairies around them, laughing, and sharing some of the bread Wild handed out before joining the group by the water. The hero mindlessly hands Time and Hyrule their own share of bread, and Time passes Hyrule the honey to put on his bread (he isn’t oblivious, of course, but he will let the hero keep his secrets a while longer). 

They could stand to stay here longer than a night, as long as the fairies are okay with it.

Or, at least, so long as he doesn’t run out of sugar water.

#linked universe #lu time #lu hyrule #lu wind #everyone else is there but not big enough to tag in this chapter ig #my fics #enjoy :)

[silverwings22]

Caught in the Crosshairs: Chapter 46: Planet Zero

Series warnings: Smut, mind control, canon typical violence, childhood trauma, language, chronic illness

Chapter Warning: Violence, big ass bugs, child endangerment, mentions of slavery, colonizers, mentions of genocide

Previous Chapter:

Next Chapter:

"Cid says Vanguard Axis is a hive for illegal smuggling. Stay alert." Hunter said firmly as the crew exited their ship. It was a simple delivery, a box of forged chain codes to the smuggler droids here in exchange for credits. Still, a strangely oppressive weight lingered in the Force here that Miria couldn't ignore. 

"Omega, Echo, guard the ship." She ordered. Something was off here, and she was in no hurry to be double crossed or trapped on the floating metal discus. She was tired, as newly hopeful as her understanding with Mayrin made her. 

The two siblings nodded, stepping back towards the ramp as she followed the rest of the team into the belly of the station. They were led to the office, where a blue painted leader droid was at a desk. "Do you have the forgeries?"

Hunter nodded to Wrecker, who presented a small case for inspection. 

The droid buzzed slightly. "Check them."

"There is no need. I made these chain codes myself, they will fool the Empire." Tech huffed. 

"Your assurance means nothing. Check every one." The droid ordered. 

Miria crossed her arms as Wrecker handed the case over. They couldn't leave until everything was verified, but she felt like a captive audience. It didn't do wonders for her rapidly dwindling patience.

I need to get a handle on myself. It's unbecoming of a Jedi…

Or was she really a Jedi anymore? If she was honest with herself, had she ever really been? All her life she'd dreamed of something beyond the Temple walls. And more damning, her most recent conversation with her uncle had brought something new to her attention. 

"Qui-gon Jinn and I were old friends, Miria. He knew you were my niece, and he intended to ask you if you wanted to remain in the Order after you'd gotten your kyber crystal. If you'd wanted to, he'd have smuggled you off Coruscant and brought you home. It's only your illness that prevented it… he didn't want you to miss what you couldn't have once it was apparent you could never leave."

Qui-gon had never asked the question. Miria didn't know what she would have said when she was six years old and untouched by the cold callousness of the galaxy. But as a grown woman now, who had experienced the sharp ache of wanting what couldn't be cradled in her empty arms, she knew what she'd have come to choose. Home. 

Home wasn't a place any longer. It was a person; a heartbeat under someone else's armor, the taste of another's tongue, the weight of an embrace shared while lying in a bed that had been half-empty too long. Homesickness burrowed under her skin like a droch plague and sucked the life out of her just as surely. 

A smattering of blaster fire in the distance made them all straighten, just as the last chain code was checked. Hunter leaned towards the lead droid. "Problem?"

It didn't answer, just circled the desk and walked out of the room. 

Tech sighed. "That blaster fire is undoubtedly from Echo or Omega… most likely, Omega."

"She tends to have a point when she gets involved in these kinds of messes." Miria pulled her rifle off her back. "Let's go find her."

Hunter led the way and they burst into a cargo room. Omega and Echo were pinned down by droids, standing in front of a young reddish-colored wookiee child. 

Miria's stomach turned a flip. It couldn't be…. Could it? 

"I suggest you get your soldiers and go." The lead droid ordered.

"No! They're going to hurt him!" Omega had her bow up, eyes wide. 

"On the contrary. The wookiee is worth quite a bit to our buyer. Alive."

Miria's Firepuncher leveled at the droid, her taking a step forward past Hunter. "You will hand over the child. And his weapon on your belt." She growled. "Or I will reduce you to a scrap heap."

"No."

She pulled the trigger without a second thought, just as the wookiee held out his hands and something jerked off the now dead droid's belt into them. The droid's head sizzled before it dropped to the ground. "Run for the ship!"

Omega grabbed the wookiee by the paw and took off, just as he activated a green lightsaber. The little girl did a double take. "You're a Jedi!?"

Miria grabbed her other hand and hauled the children to the ship in a sentient chain. "Tech! Get us out of here!"

The Havoc Marauder rocketed into space at a breakneck pace, the young wookiee immediately curling into a ball in the back of the hold. It took several minutes of silence before everyone started reacting again. 

"Why's he sitting alone like that, Hunter?" Omega whispered. 

"He's scared." Hunter sighed. "Why don't you and I find him something to eat? Let Miri talk to him." He put an arm around her and steered the girl to the galley. 

Miria walked over to the young one slowly and he lifted his furry head, giving her a low growl in warning. He was terrified, it echoed so loudly in the Force that it was deafening. 

"These clones won't hurt you." She reached up, unlocking her helmet seals and pulling the plastoid away. "Gungi? Do you remember me?"

For a moment, his dark button eyes widened. Then Miria was flat on her back with the young wookiee clinging to her and roaring in her ear with delight. She hugged him back, laughing. "Oh, sweetheart! Yes, it's really me. Look at you, you've gotten so tall."

He sat up, half dragging her with him to avoid breaking the hug as he buried his furry face in her shoulder. Miria stroked his head, cradling him tight. "Shh. You're alright, dear. I'm here. You're safe."

Echo spun around in his chair curiously. "You know each other?"

"I was a creche teacher for many years. I raised most of the younglings that became padawans during the war." Miria cupped Gungi's cheeks. "I'm so happy you're safe. What in the Force's name were you doing on that space station?"

He started explaining in rapid Shyriiwook that he'd been trying to get to Kashyyyk when he'd been captured. Miria listened attentively, sitting up beside him while he held her arm in a nervously firm grip. 

"My wookiee is rusty, but I think I caught most of that." Hunter announced as he and Omega showed up with a tray of food. Gungi glanced nervously at Omega and gave another low growl at Hunter. 

Miria reached up and petted his shoulder. "Shh. It's alright, Gungi. These are my friends. They saved me from Order 66. They'll help you too."

He nodded after a minute and took the tray Omega offered, cramming the food in his mouth hurriedly. 

Omega eased down on the floor beside him, chattering pleasantly. Miria patted Gungi's arm and gently disentangled herself from his grip to join the adults in the cockpit. Hunter leaned against the back of her seat when she eased into it, looking down at her. "What should we do about him, Miri? Jedi and children are your areas of expertise, and he's both."

"He wants to return to Kashyyyk." She said mildly, fingers steepled in her lap. Gungi wanted to go home, find his roots and perhaps a family that had been waiting for him. She knew the feeling. "We should take him."

"It's been a long time since we've been to Kashyyyk." Wrecker grinned. 

"The Empire could have set up outposts by now." Echo’s brows were furrowed. "What if it's not safe?"

"He's a Jedi. Nowhere is safe." Hunter looked at Miria again. 

"No, nowhere is safe." She agreed. "But if he wants to go home, then he stands the best chance of finding people who will love and protect him there."

Hunter nodded. "Alright. Kashyyyk it is."

"The village is in this sector." Hunter tapped the holomap in front of him as Tech piloted. Kashyyyk hung green and bright in front of them, beautiful in its wilderness even from orbit. 

"I'm picking up heavy smoke and signs of deforestation from that area." Echo frowned. "Watch for Imperial outposts." He glanced at Miria, who was seated with Gungi's head in her lap and Omega tucked up against her side. He wanted to fight the Empire so badly, and he knew she did too. But she looked spectral sitting there, swallowed by her oversized armor and dwarfed by the young ones crowding her. He didn't know if she could take a fight like that…

"I will proceed with caution." Tech assured them and went in for the landing. 

Hunter looked at Gungi. "Kid, hide that laser sword. It might draw unwanted attention."

Agreeably, Gungi tucked his saber away and looked at Miria. She patted her thigh bag. "I keep mine close."

She kept more than her saber in the leather sachel held around her waist and thigh. She kept her favorite of Crosshair’s letters with her at all times, as if she was carrying the man with her. 

Gungi led the way out the ramp when they landed, looking up with wide eyes at the huge forests. Omega trotted up to him, grinning. "It's beautiful here…"

Miria recalled fondly her first experience with dirt on Salucemi and put a hand on both young one's shoulders. "What do you think, Gungi? Is it what you'd hoped?"

He roared an agreement.

Omega frowned as Hunter started leading them towards the village the team knew. "You don't remember Kashyyyk?"

Gungi shook his head. Miria smiled. "Most Jedi don't remember much of our homeworld. We come to the temple very young, barely more than infants in most cases. I was two. Gungi was about the same."

"So how do you even know you want to come back?" Omega looked at her new friend. 

Tech translated the roar for Omega. "His dreams."

Omega frowned further and turned her eyes to Miria. The older woman put an arm around her. "The Force speaks, little love. Sometimes it's subtle, only a whisper of a feeling. Other times, it's direct. A dream, a vision…" She smiled at the thought of a little girl with silver hair and her hands on her sassy little hips like her father. "It tells you what you need to hear, one way or another."

"Do you have dreams like that?" Omega pressed.

"I've had a recurring vision of late."

"What does it show you?"

"A future worth getting to, dear."

They made their way deeper into the wooded world, stopping short when the path was blocked by thick webs. "Spiders?" Omega looked nervous. 

"On Kashyyyk, something bigger." Miria shook her head. 

"Probably kinraths." Hunter grumbled. 

"I got it." Wrecker drew his large vibroblade and started cutting them a path forward. As they got deep into the nest, the static sound of arachnid legs caught everyone's attention. 

Hunter reached for his knife, but Miria caught his arm. "Wait."

Six huge kinraths circled them, and Gungi stepped forward with a paw up. They seemed to communicate for a moment before the arachnids went back up into the trees. 

"What the hell was that?" Echo frowned. 

"They will not attack if we aren't a threat first." Miria smiled as Gungi gave her a bright grin. "He was just asking politely for them to let us pass."

Hunter smiled under his helmet. It was the first time in ages he was seeing the Miria he knew, without the smothering sorrow and slow burning anger that had haunted her for so long. Calm and at peace, she was the creche teacher again for a moment. He could have hugged Gungi like an overgrown teddy bear for bringing her back. 

They made it to a mountain ridge and Tech fiddled with his datapad. "According to my telemetry, the village should be close by."

Echo looked across the horizon. "Where the smoke is coming from?"

"... unfortunately, yes."

"Move with caution." Miria ordered. 

It was a careful and slippery trek down the mountainside, without a positive ending. The village the Batch had known was razed.

Hunter crouched to examine the dirt. "Tanks moved through here."

Gungi dropped to his knees, staring at the incinerated village with a hopeless look. Omega knelt beside him. "The Empire destroyed our home too. I promise we'll help you find your people."

Miria examined the damage silently before taking off her helmet. 

This was what the Empire did. It burned and destroyed everything it touched. It sucked the life out of beautiful places like Kashyyyk. It murdered innocence and goodness like a cancer growing unchecked. 

She hated it. The Temple might have taught that hatred was poisonous, but who could stand in the ashes of the dead and not feel something? If the ghosts of slaughtered Jedi, civilian, and clone could have appeared in front of her right now, would they have been able to say the Code mattered? Miria didn't think so. She was left with scraps of tattered truth to build her own Code with, like Echo had said before Raxus. He'd been right. Argais had been right. Irene had been right. Miria was no Jedi any longer, but that wasn't going to stop her from doing what was right. 

She knew what she was going to have to do. 

Hunter stiffened at her side. "Tanks."

"Get low." Miria flipped her helmet back on and everyone scattered into the undergrowth. 

Sure enough, a group of repurposed Separatist tanks came barreling through. Hunter grumbled next to Miria. "Trandoshans."

"We work for a trandoshan." Echo muttered. 

"Cid doesn't have a wookiee hostage. They do." Miria's eyes were fixed on the whip coming down on the captive's back. She'd been on the receiving end of an electrowhip. So had Hunter. Not again. "What are they saying, Hunter?"

"The one with the whip is reporting they found more carved stones. He got orders to destroy them." The sergeant whispered. 

Miria nodded, bringing her rifle up and moving into a sniper’s crouch. "I do believe those are sacred. How unfortunate."

Before she could squeeze off a shot, Gungi was running into the midst of the trandoshans with his saber out. 

"He's not real subtle, is he?" Echo groaned.

"Not our strong suit either." Miria adjusted her aim and shot the one with the whip. "Back him up."

Wrecker whooped and they rushed in. Gungi had already taken out another trandoshan and freed the captive wookiee by the time they reached him. Hunter headed for one tank while the two kids climbed the other, Gungi putting his saber through the repularlift. Miria hopped up behind them lightly and shot the driver as the tank crashed. 

"Nice!" Wrecker grinned. 

"Find something to use as a shovel, dear. We need to get that fire out or it'll catch the whole forest." Miria slid down and coughed. "The smoke is awful, even through the helmet filters."

They started churning soil with anything they could find, throwing it over the blazing embers of the trandoshan's flamethrowers. The elder wookiee nudged Gungi and gave him a proud smile. 

They'd just got the last fire out when three more wookiees arrived atop brightly colored mylaya steeds. The former hostage quickly explained what they'd done, and the leader of the warriors nodded and waved for them to follow. 

"Where are they taking us?" Echo looked at Miria. 

"Their village. They say it's in the trees… it sounds lovely, don't you think?" 

The village was lovely, if they were honest with themselves. It was a whole cluster of treehouses and rope bridges, built in such a way that the living trees were undamaged. An older female wookiee stepped out to meet them, eyes lighting up at the sight of Gungi. 

The wookiee that they'd freed went to her and started explaining everything, pointing at the Batch. She finally nodded and called out to them to approach. 

"She says her name is Yanna. She is their chieftain." Tech translated for his brothers. "She wants to know if we are soldiers of the Empire, and why we helped her people."

Hunter took his helmet off. "Former soldiers of the Republic, ma'am. We don't support the Empire."

She looked skeptical until Miria lifted her helmet. "He's telling the truth, Chief Yanna." She took her lightsaber from her bag and held it out, proving the clones hadn't followed Order 66. Gungi made a happy noise beside her. 

Yanna inspected the weapon before reaching out to her and Hunter and repeating her question. Why had they helped Gungi?

"Jedi or not, he's still a child who needs help." Hunter said firmly, and looked over at Omega. 

Yanna seemed pleased with the answer and waved for Gungi to come over to her. Miria smiled as he let her examine his face. "We're trying to return him to his family, but we don't know which village he is from."

The old wookiee nodded and led them inside, bidding the small woman to follow her to talk while the other wookiees made friends with the clones. 

Gungi was delighted with the wookiee food, as was Wrecker. Echo was much more dubious, and declined the drink he was offered. 

Hunter sat down with Tech, watching Omega and Gungi giggling together. "Something happened out there." The sergeant grumbled. "With Miri."

"Yes. I heard it in her voice when she saw those carved stones being destroyed." Tech nodded. 

"And then she shot a trandoshan in the head." Hunter finished, looking over as Echo abandoned the dinner table to join them. "Remember when she didn't kill mosquitoes?"

"A lot has happened. That… changes people." Echo said solemnly. "I know Skako changed me."

"If you get too far gone, you won't turn into one of those Sith things. I saw Vader. I saw what he did to her. If she ends up like that…"

Echo shook his head. "I don't think she will. She's got something worth hanging on for. Vader doesn't." The corporal sat back, thinking. "Remember what she said the other day. 'Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.' Miri has been through every one of those steps. At the end of them, you get a choice. Do you turn around and tear yourself open to give the rest of the galaxy a taste of your pain? Or do you decide no one needs to suffer like you did, and fight to protect others? That's the difference between good and evil. I don't understand the Force, Hunter. But I understand people."

Tech leaned on his knuckles, thinking. "That is a… logical course of thought. Miria has changed, but her core values remain the same. She is still loyal and kind, just more willing to use extreme measures to achieve her desired result."

"Even if it kills her." Hunter’s shoulders sagged. "She's getting worse. And her willingness to throw herself at anything in her way is just going to make it progress faster…"

Echo looked sheepish. "... that might actually be a good thing. I've been talking to Lady Irene…"

Tech frowned. "Does the general know?"

Echo shook his head. "No. But Irene thinks that what's really killing her isn't an attack by the Dark Side. It's an attack on herself."

"That supports my hypothesis of an autoimmune response." Tech mused. 

"Yeah. What happened to her as a kid put the Dark stuff on her. She rejects it. Her own connection to the Force tries to kill it, and it's killing her." Echo explained. "Argais pointed out that she must be really powerful in the Force to do that much damage to herself without even knowing it's her."

"So what's the cure?" Hunter frowned. If her aunt and uncle understood it, couldn't they save her? Miria was his best friend. There had to be something! 

"She's gotta stop rejecting half of herself. Stop thinking like a Jedi." Echo looked over at Miria, who was sitting at rapt attention talking to Yanna. Her pale face and the dark circles around her eyes stood out, but there was a surprising surety in her shoulders under her heavy armor. "I think she's getting there. But the only person who can save Miria is herself. Not us, not her family, not even Crosshair. Her."

Hunter and Tech nodded. 

Across the room, Miria felt the weight of their stares and looked over at them, giving them a tired smile. Yanna patted her shoulder with a paw, and the small woman got up and walked over to the clones. "Yanna says their tribe will take Gungi in. He'll be safe here." She looked out the open door for a moment. "She also explained that the Empire is using the trandoshans to strip Kashyyyk of its resources. Many villagers have fled deeper into the forest to survive. And her scouts have reported a convoy heading this way."

"The wookiees have been our allies for years." Echo muttered. "We can't just leave them like this. We should help."

"I'm inclined to agree." Miria nodded. "Hunter?"

He smiled a little and looked over at Gungi, who was leaning against Omega and watching. "We'll stay and take that convoy out. To keep the kid safe."

His General nudged him with her elbow lightly. "Your dad is showing."

"You did say on Salucemi that they'd start calling us the Dad Batch." He laughed. 

"And you said Echo is the mom." Miria teased. 

Echo groaned. "It's rude to make fun of a triple amputee."

Miria patted his shoulder. "Not when you're our brother. Then it's just love."

They looked up as the group of wookiees headed outside and started lining up at the roots of a large Wroshyr tree, putting their paws on it. Gungi looked curiously at them. 

"What are they doing?" Omega whispered. 

"They are praying. The wookiees believe Kashyyyk belongs to the trees, and they are their allies." Tech explained. 

"They'll need all the allies they can get." Hunter sighed. 

Gungi stepped up next to Yanna, putting his paw next to hers. Every wookiee knelt, eyes closing. Around her, Miria felt the Force stir like an ancient melody in her ears. 

"Trees can talk?" Omega whispered. 

"If you know how to listen." Miria breathed. 

After a long moment, Gungi stood up and ran over. He roared eagerly at Miria, who grinned and nodded. 

"What's he saying?" Wrecker looked excited as a kid himself. 

Miria looked up at him. "The trees have a plan."

Darkness had settled over the forest as the trandoshan and Imperial convoy moved through. Miria crouched in the undergrowth and watched, regretful as she spotted clones among the trandoshans. They hadn't asked for this, of course. But they'd be caught up in it. Just like Crosshair. 

I might not be able to save these men. But I will save Crosshair, somehow.

She gave Hunter a signal and a detonator went rolling under the tank. As the blinking red light got faster and faster, Miria honed in on the trandoshan giving orders. Commander Venomor.

This was the man laying waste to Kashyyyk. This was the monstrosity that killed and hunted living beings for sport. He was no better than the Empire. He had a choice, and he'd chosen this… 

Jedi weren't judge, jury, and executioner. But Miria wasn't much of a Jedi anymore. 

Boom.

The tank went wheeling to the side when the detonator went off. Venomor ordered them to press on immediately, just as several wookiee riders descended on their mylayas. Miria and her men started circling back as the Imperials gave chase. "Stick to the plan. Drive them towards the nest." Miria ordered. Behind her, more wookiees were pounding on the trees nearby. 

Several warriors jumped onto the tanks, including Gungi. He had his saber out and had disabled a tank cannon when Venomor spotted him. Miria swore under her breath when he went after the young wookiee with a flamethrower, carelessly burning one of his own men. Gungi and Omega took off into the trees with the trandoshan on their tail, and Miria faded out of sight after Venomor while the guys proceeded with the plan and kinraths came skittering down the trees after the Imperials.

When Miria caught up with the kids, Omega was pinned back by a circle of flames. Gungi was leaping, drawing the trandoshan's fire from the treetops. Omega jumped at the sound of Miria's saber coming out. "Miri!"

"Stay behind me, Omega." The woman said firmly, lifting the purple blade enough to catch Venomor's attention. 

"Another Jedi." He snarled, turning his head to look at her. "I'll turn you over along with the wookiee."

Behind him, Gungi moved for a leap and swiped the flamethrower with his saber. Miria chuckled darkly. "With what weapon?"

Venomor swore viciously. Gungi ran over to Miria, ready to fight alongside her as the trandoshan took a threatening step towards them. "What are you going to do now? You Jedi won't kill an unarmed opponent. I'll be back with more men and more weapons!"

Trech's mandibles clicked threateningly. "Your nobility-"

"I don't have such weaknesses!" Anakin's voice thundered in the metal command post. Miria wrestled with her conscience, looking nervously at her friend. He'd fall one day, this had been her first clue and she hadn't seen it for what it was. 

"Are you going to report this?"

"Report what?"

"I might not have made up my mind." Miria looked up, voice icy. "But they have."

Behind Venomor, three kinraths had come from the trees and encircled him. They knocked him down, covering him with sticky webbing, and started hoisting the screaming reptile into the canopy. One kinrath moved towards the three onlookers, but Gungi immediately extinguished his blade. Miria followed suit, tossing the hilt back into her bag with her eyes still on Venomor. 

The last thing he saw before the trees swallowed him was the tiny figure of a woman in clone armor, waving at him. 

Gungi tugged her arm, pointing at the flames and roaring in distress. Miria nodded. "Omega, run for the others. Gungi, we've got to stop the fire before it reaches the village."

While the little blonde went yelling into the undergrowth for Hunter, Miria and Gungi started shoving soil with the Force to smother the flames.

Morning breezes cleared the acrid smoke of the night's fire fighting efforts. Wrecker and Echo were drinking with the wookiees, Echo admitting at last that their fare wasn't bad. Tech was sitting on the porch of the main house, Hunter standing in the doorway as they watched Gungi and Omega kneeling at the roots of the trees in respectful prayer. 

Miria was in the thick branches nearby, legs crossed and helmet in her lap. She'd felt drawn to this spot since they'd come back, and was meditating. 

You have wisdom for me, Wroshyr of Kashyyyk? 

The trees didn't speak in words, but images and feeling. Curiosity curled around her, and the image of her saber being lifted into the air flashed.

Yes. I was once a Jedi, when there were Jedi to be. But the Temple is gone now. 

The feeling of sorrow like a dead weight in her chest rose, and pained confusion followed. 

Yes. I am lost. I don't know who I am, without the Jedi or Crosshair to bind myself to. I cannot carry on the Code, I'm too broken now. And I couldn't let him go, even before the slaughter. I don't know where I belong, or if I even belong anywhere at all. I'm not afraid to die… but I am afraid to fail. 

The tree sifted through her memory and she allowed it, letting it pluck images from her to show like flash cards. 

Annalise and Jet, folding her into an embrace. Irene, showing her the duck pond with an honest look in her brown eyes. Argais, on his knees as he poured tea for the two of them and gave her encouraging counsel like he was still a master and she a worried padawan in need. Aram laughing as he held her shoes just out of her reach, making her laugh about her own height despite being the elder cousin. Hunter letting her lean on his arm when she was so tired she felt like crawling. Tech puzzling over his next move in dejarik, adorably frustrated because she always won. Wrecker picking her up in a rib-cracking hug. Echo sitting with her while she lay on the floor of the hold, listening to her frustration without judgment. Omega begging for her to sing one more lullaby before bedtime. 

Mayrin's face. 

I think I understand. Thank you… and may the Force be with you. 

Miria opened her eyes as Yanna stepped out. Hunter was still looking at the young ones. "They're just kids…" He sounded as sad and burdened as Miria felt.

Yanna murmured and Tech translated. "When one leaves, the trees weep. But when they return, the trees sing. One day, the young will find their own path."

Hunter sighed. "I hope that path leads them far away from war."

Miria slid from the tree and landed by her sergeant quietly. "There's nothing wrong with raising krayt-slayers in a time of dragons, Hunter." She smiled. "It doesn't teach them monsters are real. They know that. Our purpose is to teach them monsters can be beaten."

He smiled faintly. "Have a good conversation with the tree?"

"I did. And I think I understand where the path leads me next." She looked at the helmet in her hands. 

"Where?" 

"I think it's time for me to return to Naboo."

#explict #eventual smut #orginal character #crosshair #chronic illness #clone force 99 #the bad batch #caught in the crosshairs

[kicktwine]

I havent watched motor city BUT im loving this au pls tell us more about what everyone is doing im begging hfdhg

hKFGS ok o7 i dont have v much though i havent thought about it that hard

so for starters motorcity is a cartoon about the rule of cool, car gangs, and oppression from a guy who built a perfect efficient city Over the normal city of detroit on a big dome. everyone above kinda lives in a rigid perfection-oriented apple product smooth city, everyone below is Alive and also Chaotic. there are also killer robots. moving on.

my ideas start and end with the mobile games (i am SO SORRY sora you know i love you. you and roxas and xion and others are probably doing cool fun stuff too)

Ephy's gang (the dandelions) cornered one of the lakes still in motorcity and monopolized it to use as their base, they run a beachy resort called Daybreak Town that provides luxury services for cheap prices to normal citizens. People love it because it's like, a resort and a vacation spot where there aren't any more, and also they can relax and not worry abt being shot at by robots because the gang is good at what they do. obviously other gang members run a higher price than normal citizens because of the increased attack risk, and if they act up inside the resort Lauriam will not hesitate to kick everyone out. the rule is Don't Ruin It. the Dandelions trade in and out a lot of money from/to their resort business, so they're good to trade with, and also have a slight reputation as being intense when it comes to trade deals and parts salvaging. you know how competitive khux got.

Ephemer and Skuld (the bear and snake, respectively) run the front desk and manage every trade deal. They're the face members, they deal with PR, management, etc. They're very nice, customer service and all that, and also very scary because they're the most powerful people on the east side and are smiling at you. Brain (the fox) runs all the computer and tech stuff, all the scheduling and activity decisions, and he's the treasurer. Behind the scenes sort of guy, absolutely the one they send in if a trade deal is going poorly and they want to outfox (hahaaa) someone else. He also makes schematics for new weapons. Lauriam (the unicorn) is groundskeeper and security -- caring for the plants (they have water, and thus they have plants, and thus their trade extends to some edible goods as well) relaxes him, which he kind of needs, because he has to be intimidating if someone rowdy is gonna listen to him. He's a twig boy still... dont worry lauri youll fill out soon. Ven and Vani (two leopards, snow and melanistic) are part time maintenance/customer service part time external security, because they like having tasks to do and also like (and are very good at) fight attack kill. Vanitas really likes fixing/making stuff, funny enough, and Ven likes to help people; and Vanitas likes ...dealing with annoying customers. I like 2 think Kane was experimenting with cadets + cyborg stuff and they ended up down in motorcity discarded and glitched out at two separate times, and now they work together. Elrena (no animal) does a lot of mechanic work because she hung around for so long and bothered Lauriam so much that they became friends, so she's ours now. Player (no animal) is head of kitchen crew because that's me and I like cooking and we were missing an important role in the hotel! So!

Ephemer has a car that looks ancient but has a whole harpoon on it, called Polaris. It's kinda star themed, kinda bear themed, kinda icy. Skuld has a whole fire snake thing going on, her car is also starry, blue fire version. It's called Ophiuchus, and it doesn't look quite as old, but it's long, and has a whip/morning star/metal junk projectiles thing. Brain's car isn't used that often, but he has a dog/wild dog theme, and it's called Vulpecula. It has a chain/traps/buffs/debuffs thing. Lauriam obviously has a gardeny mythical car, Cygnus, it is very new and shiny. it has. a lot of weapons also DUH he uses a scythe in hand to hand. Strelitzia isn't old enough to drive yet, but she's learning, and they're gonna build her a car of her own. Her animal will be the heron, and she'll help with groundskeeping until she specializes. Ven and Vani share a car, Gemini Lux, because Vani can't drive and Ven can't aim very well. Ven can drive extremely well and Vani likes to shoot things (they were pilot and combat cadet experiments respectively). They have a tank of a musclecar with two cannons on the back, wing/claw motifs, and a b/w theme.

Ephy and Skuld started this effort, it was ephemer's idea to built a resort in Motorcity. After it really started working, though, they were both in. Brain popped in because a) he prefers not to fight so often and wanted somewhere quiet to work but b) he likes the message and is REALLY good at what he does. Which is important, since the next person they found was Ven, glitched out on the side of the lake and trying really hard not to hurt anyone even if his programming was yelling at him to attack. Brain fixed him up :] after which Lauriam joined, searching for his sister, who turned out to be doing a weird rogue thing with a broken H.O.U.N.D they have all kept and named Chirithy. She tried to attack Ven on sight but it's chill now. Vani joined the main group last by doing pretty much the same thing as ven, just a lot more violently (everyone needs to STOP ATTACKING VENTUS he is NOT made of STEEL. MOSTLY.). They're a legitimate company family at this point.

Daybreak Town as a resort is pretty beachside typical, very relaxed, everyone has soft hawaiian shirts and shorts. They managed to rig some cables and controllers up for a warmer temperature and soft wind from the lake, even if they can't have the sky. They also RIGOROUSLY clear out pollution so people can swim in it, they have constant beef with a certain deluxe garbage chute. It's also: pretty big!

listen to this song

I stick this in here and say hesitantly,,, no.,,,, because I want the khdr kids +aqua/terra to be in a samurai themed gang LMAO-- I think it would be cool if there was a bit of rivalry/comraderie between the Dandelions and these guys, or if the dandelions broke off from them and that's why all their cars have latin names, or something. Xehanort and Eraqus run their gang after usurping it from their previous leaders, who were extremely strict and had led their subordinates to infighting and sabotage. They vowed to do better, but running a business is hard, and they can't see themselves trending in a similar direction...

idk what their name would be. But they're very much samurai-jedi-apocalyptic car gang members, meticulously clean, down to murder. Good outfits. Cool base building design. I... also want to either keep Baldr as the final straw from their last leaders (he snapped and killed a lot of people allowing xeha and eraqus to take control) or keep him here as a berserker in a cool battering ram swords car. JFHKSD

that's it i think, its cool cars

#i kinda lied but i kinda didn't i just started typing a lot and because my brain works the way it does it got long #i don't say a ton of extra info i just like being wordy #ask #anon #blueskyheadleft010 #khux #khdr spoilers #ok i think i'll use khdr spoilers as a tag until the end of this week. is that cool? #dandelions have a day/night thing going on... you know #motorcity au

[freshtomatoesddd]

A sliver of that tyzula underworld AU I was talking about.

1

Years spent in hiding forged Zuko into a formidable warrior-king. He sought to free his sister and end an era of titans, to claim his birthright that’s been denied for too long. With the help of powerful water gods Zuko sliced his father open and freed Azula, and together the four defeated his monstrous father and banished him to the depths of Tartarus. At his uncle’s behest, Zuko soon held his coronation. The world rejoiced as he sat upon his large throne, the handsome god who freed them from titan oppression. But there was much left to do; part of it was deciding who took which realm.

Azula already predicted her brother’s claim on Mount Olympus, as well as the water siblings’ promised realms near the ocean floor. Though she didn’t want to believe it, because that left her with the shortest straw, literally. The fates were a cruel bunch. They’ve given her a realm filled with death and monotony, what was supposed her father’s rotting prison. Now it was her rotting prison, to share with the man who trapped her in a fate worse than any lands in Tartarus. She later dragged her brother to an obscure corner on Olympus, to ‘talk.’

            “Why did you give me Tartarus!”

            “I didn’t, the fates did.”

Azula rubbed her tense fingers. “Zuko, brother…You promised me a better life, that’s why I supported you. But now you suppose I live with the man who tormented me all these years?”

            “Look. I get it, it’s hard—”

            “Do you?” She chuckled, “Do you have any idea how horrible it was? I spent every day floating in a sea of spit and mud, surrounded by the skulls of people who crossed father. But how would you know? You lived with uncle, in the outside.”

            “I mean, Tartarus isn’t all that bad. It’s an incredibly important realm, I’m sure you’ll handle it fine.”

            “Is that why you freed me? To do your dirty work because you didn’t wanna deal with spades?” She turned away. “It doesn’t matter. But I hope you know, I won’t forget this.”

2

‘Tartarus isn’t all that bad’ was nothing but a lie. Though her father was tied by chains hecatoncheires couldn’t break, it did little to stop him poisoning her thoughts. Each passing day proved Tartarus to be the hellscape it was, each day she labored till her bones collapsed and be forced to hear her father’s ramblings. She was unworthy, weak, unloved—it’s why her mother saved Zuko but not her.

To make things worse, Tartarus was a realm devoid of sunlight. Darkness followed wherever she went; the souls of the dead would creep in her bed chamber to plead for their lives. That was when Azula installed guards to watch spades, it was also how she realized life meant much to mortals. They’d scream and beg and cry, swore to do anything and everything for another breathe of life. Their pleas were in vain, Azula didn’t have the power to resurrect the dead. If she did, she’d have sent those chattering spades back where they came from.

Apparently it wasn’t only the dead who ventured into the underworld, as certain mortals thought they could rescue their loved ones from the rotting river Styx. Azula couldn’t be bothered to waste more resources for palace guards, so she adopted a guard dog instead. Cerberus was his name; it meant ‘spot.’ The tiny pup soon grew incredibly large, fitted with another pair of heads. His growls were more than enough to keep idiot mortals out her domain, the underlord rewarding him with dead bones and pets each time he did.

She also solved another issue. Her father was no more than a freeloader in her lands, but he was still a titan of great power. She forged chains that were flexible to move in but strong as obsidian, then commanded her father do construction work. Satisfaction surged through her whenever she spotted her father laboring in dust-filled fields like a lowly slave. It made the grim memories of her childhood bearable.

Tartarus, once a wasteland full of wayward souls had been transformed to a vast kingdom, with a palace of modest and tasteful decorum acting as its capital. Its size quashed that of Katara’s, goddess of the sea, while its power rivalled her brother’s vice-fueled mountain. It certainly wasn’t thriving, but it was a realm Azula carved with her blood and tears—one she was proud to call her own. Unfortunately her family thought differently, as they invited her to Mount Olympus to ‘talk.’

            “Azula,” uncle started, “We think it’s time for you to marry.”

The underlord blinked. “Where’s this coming from?”

            “Nowhere,” Zuko interrupted. “We just think that since you’re one of the four who defeated Ozai, you deserve to be rewarded.”

            “Wasn’t Tartarus reward enough?” she spat.

            “Uh, no. I don’t think so.”

“We’ve already chosen a bride for you. She’s witty, cheerful, and most importantly—pretty as pie.”

Uncle and Zuko shared a hearty laugh, but Azula failed to see the value of a bride. “Who even is she?”

            “She’s a fertility goddess,” Zuko said, “And her name is Ty Lee.”

            “What is she good at? Will she able to handle the underworld. Unless you’ve forgotten, brother, there’s no sunlight in Tartarus. She’d wilt faster than a flower in winter, I can’t have someone like that rule beside me.”

            “Then don’t. Just make a corner with some light and keep her there.”

            “Will she like it?”

            “Does it matter? You saved the world. Anyone would be honored to have you.” He leaned closer. “We’ve already spoken to her and she consents, now you just need to take the chance.”

Azula was dismissed without a chance to rebut. Then again, it’d be rude to reject a bride hand-picked by the master of Olympus. She didn’t understand why a wife was needed, but felt it better to get things over with.

A tree from the heart of Tartarus was cut down and fashioned into a mighty chariot, painted red and strengthened by bronze. The petals of a white narcissus crested her warrior’s wagon. Skeletal horses once belonging to ancient heroes transported her into the mortal realm. The regality was supposed to impress her bride-to-be, though she seemed no better than a brute.

Black armor chuffed against her sickly pale skin. The mortal realm bore glistening emerald fields, rich with life her chariot quickly destroyed. It was strange how Zuko assigned her a fertility goddess for a wife, maybe he hoped to see more life in Tartarus. Ridiculous, she thought, it went against the very nature of her realm. Of her. Everything she touched either died or perished, everyone knew that. Even her idiot brother. Perhaps she’d rejected his advances, maybe that’s why he pawned her off to Azula of all people.

A maiden came into her sights, dressed in a milk white dress with braided honey-colored hair. She tended to the flowers with care, so much care she failed to hear Azula’s racing chariot. The underlord stole her away. For some reason she was screaming and struggling, a lot.

            “What are you doing?! Let me go!”

            “Why should I?”

            “What do you mean why—”

Azula looked at her. “Are you not my bride?”

Shock and confusion mixed in her storm-grey eyes. “Since when was I…?”

            “Zuko promised me to you. He said that you’ve talked about it, and agreed to the arrangement.” Azula paused. “I’m starting to think he lied.”

          “I agreed to take care of the plants in Tartarus! I didn’t think it he meant forever.”

            “Oh.” She stopped the chariot and let her go. “I’m sorry. I’ll speak to my brother…And I promise not to bother you again.”

Azula rode off to Mount Olympus, furious.

#my writing #tyzula #Azula is Hades #Ty Lee is Persephone #Zuko is Zeus #of course #Iroh is Helios because he always knows what's happening #just like the sun god Helios #feel free to interpret all of this however you will. #I like writing Azula as a dork #its fun and a great anti-stress tool #I wrote this instead of my main fic #TTOTT

[theygotlost]

angela cross and/or francis ^_^

ANGELA!

favorite thing about them: that she was a genetic scientist #womeninstem AND ALSO THAT SHES LIKE TWICE AS TALL AS RATCHET #girlboss #feminism least favorite thing about them: that she disappeared without a trace and was never mentioned again!!! that insomniac tried to sweep her very existence under the rug when reestablishing the lore! angela I will #neverforget you favorite line: the post credits scene where ratchet's like "whatever happened to qwark?" and angela says smugly "I heard he got a new job at megacorp 😏" smash cut to qwark getting his balls exploded in a saw trap. LOL! brOTP: I liked her partnership with ratchet and clank and I liked that she wasn't really portrayed as a love interest. I think they would hang out as friends OTP: some people ship her romantically with ratchet and thats fine i guess but idc.... angela and RIVET though......

nOTP: I think ratchet and rivet and maybe sasha are the only people I've seen shipped with angela and I don't really hate any of those. love and light random headcanon: This only makes sense if you're obsessed with rac lore but I think the reason rivet knew angela is cause she's originally from rivet's dimension. For some reason she made her way to ratchet's dimension for the events of going commando but probably returned shortly after, which is why everyone acts like she doesn't exist. This would at least reconcile the fact that she was there in gc but then a few years later ratchet is now "the only lombax left in the universe". um.... except for azimuth. the ratchet and clank lore is hot garbage. unpopular opinion: for some reason angela didn't have a tail which everyone immediately assumed meant that female lombaxes don't have tails and males do. but thats stupid. maybe she was just fucked up? maybe she lost her tail in the yuri war??? ever think of that? this is not to discredit the trans rivet headcanon I still think that's real. but not because of the tail thing. she simply has transfem swag. song i associate with them: idk any kind of girlboss song. sorry i havent really thought about it favorite picture of them: this is a fan rendering but i really like it cause it's a more high def version of her ps2 model that's not absolutely horny like all other angela fanart and fan models. this is how I would want her to look if she ever makes another appearance

FRANCIS

favorite thing about them: HES SO FAIL. he's supposed to be "cool older brother who's awesome" BUT HE SUCKS SO MUCH. least favorite thing about them: i won't lie i don't think his actor is very good. obviously francis is my favorite character in the show but he's one of the weakest actors his performance can just be really awkward sometimes favorite line: I can't think of any specific line but it's always funny when spangler creates some new rule or punishment and he turns tot he other cadets and is like JOIN ME IN THE FIGHT AGAINST TYRANNY AND OPPRESSION! WORKERS OF THE WORLD UNITE WE HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE BUT OUR CHAINS! brOTP: not exactly what this question is asking but I love the episodes where he gets to come home and hang out with his brothers!! Usually the 90s/2000s character archetype of "edgy mean older brother" will ruthlessly torment their younger siblings for no reason and just be really cruel so I like that he genuinely cares about his younger brothers and tries to protect them from bullies and stuff. and I like that malcolm reese and dewey really miss him when he's away and get excited when he calls or visits. reminds me of when I came home from college for christmas break and my little brother hugged me so aggressively I toppled over. OTP/NOTP: I don't have many thoughts here so im just combining these questions. so far there's not really anyone to ship him with since any girl he likes is a one off character who ends up hating him by the end of the episode. i guess if you're desperate enough for malcolm in the middle yaoi you could pair him with one of the other cadets or with richie but i dont feel that vibe. random headcanon: in that gay francis dream i had it was an episode where its revealed the whole family has making bets for years as to when francis will come out. he kisses a guy and then reese punches malcolm and is like "lol you owe be 5 bucks doofus 😆" unpopular opinion: im not super involved in the mitm+ community yet so idk if this is unpopular but I don't think francis needs a subplot in every single episode (im halfway through season 2 so idk how the writing will change over the course of the show). If it ties into the A plot or if he's home from military school then I think it's fine but a lot of episodes will have perfectly fine sitcom-standard A plot and B plot with the rest of the family and still try to squeeze in a C plot for francis that will have a screentime of like, 2 MINUTES. and is it really worth it? most of the time it would have been better if they just padded out the other 2 plots and gave francis more screentime in a different episode instead of giving me whiplash from transitioning between scenes that are like 5 seconds long. song i associate with them: im trying to not listen to songs and think "this is for my blorbo francis XD" so if i ever make a francis playlist i need you to shoot me im too far gone man. but lately ive been listening to a lot of beck which i think is the quintessential vibe for 90s/2000s edgy teen guys. im a loser baby why dont you kill me ❤ favorite picture of them: i like this one where he is on the phone and scared. me when im on the phone and scared

#SORRY THIS IS SO LONG THERE ARE THINGS I WANT TO SAY

[jdgo51]

What to Do in the Waiting

Today's inspiration comes from:

Grit Don't Quit

by Bianca Juarez Olthoff

"About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the other prisoners were listening to them." — Acts 16:25

"There was a time I felt utterly stuck. The sun rose with new and limitless opportunities, but as it set, everything felt the same. The day was new, but the issues were old. No matter how much positive thinking, Bible reading, verse quoting, and attitude changing I did, I felt imprisoned.

My desk was the same. My coworkers were the same. The feelings of hopelessness and frustration were the same. No matter how much money I saved, I still felt the pang of insurmountable debt. No matter how many lunches I prepared and packed — counting macros and calories — my weight stayed the same. No matter how many times I tried creating systems and structures for success, my workload felt heavier instead of lighter.

Have you ever felt stuck like that? No matter what you try, nothing seems to make much difference? This is the waiting period — the place where we linger until divine timing permits us to move forward. It might sound dramatic, but these seasons can feel like prison.

You are doing everything right. You are setting up a system for success. But you feel trapped in the system of same, a prison where nothing changes no matter your effort. But know this:

grit and perseverance help us to develop more than the ability to wait. They help shape the way we behave while we’re waiting.

And who might you guess would’ve understood that feeling? Paul, of course, our model of grit and resilience. He knew the feeling of being stuck in prison because he was in prison.

In Acts 16, we read that Paul and Silas were on their way to pray with their friends when a demon-possessed slave girl began to follow them. She was being used by her owners to tell fortunes in exchange for money, and she shrieked and yelled until Paul turned to her and cast the demon out. But once free from the spirit oppressing her (and telling fortunes through her), the girl was no longer a source of income to her owners. Needless to say, it didn’t go over well with them.

Paul and Silas were taken to the local officials, stripped and beaten, then thrown into prison.

Just so we don’t miss anything here, let’s review some key points. Paul was on his way to pray. He was in community with other believers. He delivered a girl from the shackles of demonic oppression. And now he was being punished in prison.

With no release date set, Paul and Silas were chained and imprisoned like common criminals. But what did Paul do in the waiting? And how can that help us understand what we should we do in the waiting? We’ll take a look at the story and see what tips we can discover through examining Paul’s experience, but first, we have to get real about our current patterns of behavior.

Grit and perseverance help us to develop more than the ability to wait. They help shape the way we behave while we’re waiting.

Take a look at the list below and circle which choices are common during times you feel stuck:

Journaling Listening to worship music Calling a friend to pray with you Serving others and investing relationally Joining a community or church group Exercising Starting a new hobby Finding a series on Netflix to lose yourself in Eating your emotions and bingeing on snacks Hopping on dating apps to distract yourself Shopping excessively online Spending hours on social media apps Sleeping in, staying up late, or frequently napping Do you notice a pattern? Are you proud of your choices? If you’re anything like me, some of the behaviors you circled aren’t exactly worth bragging about. I’ve squandered so much time with distractions and diversions that I’ve had to set up a new system to ensure I stay on track.

What to Do in the Waiting

Over the past ten years, I have discovered that if I don’t intentionally set up rhythms for myself, I will easily end up returning to my old, unhealthy patterns. I’ll sit and scroll endlessly, binge-watch Real Housewives, and eat my feelings to avoid having to actually feel them. To ensure I resist these temptations and stay motivated in my waiting seasons, there are five things I’ve learned from brain researchers to do consistently:

Work out (my body) Get out (in nature) Clean out (my space) Go out (in solitude) Sing out (like you can) Don’t get overwhelmed. I’m not adding more to your to-do list. I’m simply sharing the system I’ve created that works for me. You can copy it or create your own version to help you evaluate the most useful ways to invest your time during waiting seasons."

Excerpted from Grit Don’t Quit by Bianca Juárez Olthoff, copyright Bianca Juárez Olthoff.

[fumikomiyasaki]

(For the marrying the wrong person prompt) Emma getting arranged to marry another celebrity and Kyosuke crashed the wedding (with Greg and Peko's help) since he can't bare the thought of her being unhappy with someone who's only using her for status. Or Rubina's family forcing her to get married and before the wedding even starts Metaron shows up to whisk her away while Kira's distracting everyone with party tricks.

I Object!

And here she thought she could break free from her clutches but her mother still had control over her... she wanted to pack her things and flee but right away her mother did not give her any chance... after all she knew what kind of dirt her mother could pull on her to make it hard to show her face ever in public again...

It felt like she was trapped similar to the past... her eyes were empty walking in that pretty dress as the whole press and cameras put an oppression on her... Emma just walked on... giving up on it all... untill suddenly it sounded like the door behind her shattered... like a light that guides you to freedom... seein Kyosuke Gregory and Peko stand there her empty eyes suddenly got their light back.

"Objection! The bride did not agree to this wedding!"

"Ya better listen up or this could be bad, ya know!"

"Thats right.... No doom and gloom, we only accept adorable wanted weddings!"

The groom next to her seemed annoyed but Emma used this opportunity to kick him in the knees and walk off to Kyosukes side... pulling him in her arms.

"I am glad you came."

"EMMA! YOU COME RIGHT BACK HERE!"

The yelling voice was her mother but as she wanted to object suddenly some more faces stepped into the church... the whole of her sisters getting Meridith Yuki to suddenly grow quiet as Sylvette spoke up.

"This is the woman who forced her daughters into Idol hood for her own gain... its good we came in time."

The reporters grew excited and all talked out of order, most of them wanting answers from Emmas mom ... while Emma herself embraced each of her sisters and thanked Peko and Gregory before going back to Kyosuke.

"You really kept your promise... that you won't ever let me face her alone."

"I should have been there earlier when you were talking with her."

She shook her head.

"I told you to stay out... I just didn't know she would go this far.... but thanks to everyone you brought here... we can prove her wrong... and I can finally be free of those chains."

Her hand linked with his as she leaned up and whispered.

"And maybe one day I will be your bride instead."

His face turned deep red as she chuckled. For now she knew hte reporters would be swarming her soon... to ask the truth... the whole truth she had to hide for this long.

She knew this day would come and she hoped till then she actually would have found a prove plan to go against her parents and not wed any of their suitors... yet talking it out with them was the wrong decision... again she was nothing but a bird in a golden cage... only there to look pretty....

The ceremony was arranged pretty quick, as she wore a feathery white dress. Yet she hoped to actually have her own plan... to make her escape once the ceremony starts... however she was suprised as suddenly the door opened and many gasped in surprise... but moreso who walked into the altar...

A sudden bubblegum like explosion filled the room as Kira walked in like they had a full circus with them... many were amazed by the small magic bursts that would happen as suddenly something grabbed Rubinas hand...

As she opened her eyes again she saw Metaron covering her mouth and hiding behind a plant with her.

"Hush... I will get you out of here."

"You-" Tears started running down her face seeing him... she was relieved enough and had to hug him.

"Actually you can hold on tight, I might have found an escape route."

Quickly he picked her up and walked down one of the hallways in the back to open the window and make a swift escape through there ... given Kira a signal to cover up the room with fog... before escaping as well... Rubinas parents desperately looked for her while her Suitor sat down in disbelief what just happened....

Metaron and Kira brought her to a small airship they parked.

"I know now.... there is no turning back... but where am I supposed to go now.."

"You can stay with us right?"

Her eyes had a small shimmer in them... whiping away the tears from previously she showed them a smile.

"It would make me happy... I... never want to go back there..."

Both of them made sure to calm her as she was still a bit shaken up... after all she experienced the nightmare of this situation before... at least now she was finally a free bird out of her cage.

#twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland ocs #twst #disney twst #twst ocs #twistedwonderland #twistedwonderlandoc #emma yuki #rubina von loketon #emma x kyosuke #rubina x metaron

[libidomechanica]

“To take their private to shew I am too qualifid, in”

A ballad sequence

               1

Watch and real? But love the Flood, and     unrespect, thought. Which levels to a sister, chose two must     beholding with the doome.

God was Rome. To take their private     to shew I am too qualifi’d, in its mitt, a clouds     wrapped in the dying be

the forlorn world, I’d score. Meantime     to have you. Sometimes a sovereign to praise, all to-night,     Irene. From heaven the

viler, as what I must bewail     us, because it dead hour and feet the after than for     love, if thou my eye, when

as the greatness tell. Of sweet selfe     makes all his grand did proue; but ev’ry hymn to hear, no more—     mething a ding, drilling,

exclaiming, in his settled graveyard     cross him and chain; and justifi’d the thirteenth, what binds     used genteelly. Queens may

go? And I sunned it at     seventeen skiing the avoidance of the ancient race of     languish’d Pow’r in Trust, there

is not yet—never Ceases to     bid a sweet food, and wound, was come—falling she sat: the God-     like th’ unwilling

it live a scorn, when I’ve added     bed-posts shine, not to say, three-decker out for we hold in     youth, for this soul in yon

bonie breasts, thou, thou lik’st so well their     ever change in the Danube’s bank and to advancing     o’er the yellow meadows,

which curl upon the prospect his     life renews: and secure. Can be sav’d, even yet, like one     kindest Calmucks, drilling,

within the nerves off noise and cease     to his Prince! Now droop-headed, that honour’d let his memory     rankles, when the naked

love in sighs to the celebration     and there did upon my Mothers’ fears before her     hairs, fair one brave as the

hungry crave; and in their Witnesses     of sway. Its Incomes home against that means would tire     of Gold. But I want his

Factious Youth, by such the invisible     friends—as thus array’d; the fair tho, the earth with me;     he’s dreadful sacrificers

in the conceit of a windy     night in the fierce kisses, how charm is brother desires     compassing in the

deep each of earth’s diurnal course,     pickpockets, or continuous laws. Away there to score;     they willing stalls in the

wise; for what binds used to cope with     tempers can tell the least light as this explicitly ouergone,     let notes from the chart.

               2

For love. Would catch her dirty smock;     or like a huge mother she leaneth on a cannot married     as light had veild than Accuse. Tell me why then man, for     to dusk, nothing be the

mould tye. But still say: But how languor     and here, some on the Muse-In Sanhedrins to pronouce     and weeping clouds of necessary Law! To speak the river     he flies, bewitch’d that

is mischaunce. Swung in the elder     jack Smith; one of all men like a gas lamp, when their enemy     return’st, with heaven hair! Which when two, advised respected;     but when on its crown

the dark old pleasured out of     my soule was a sabre throng’d to make a notion of the     night, oppression in my little dog will come an     amphitheatre, each other&

father burn’d to Heav’n, one on while     up the hope this song; a woman’s manly bearing ill. Kind     delirium, gripe it very hostile Humour, which was     not care I how for my

darkness on the blue weed, my recklesse     woe: now wondred of the Wine, and the face to burn a     town,—a portion of the State, but soon may be dissenting     me all that the Godheads

draw near the bird trapped wet in it.     Hovering line; sternly denied thee them: the grave! Used! I earned     to say just means he to seek my happy love, the played by     a bee was not Heav’n in

the tools; but Fame is run! But freely,     request among us, will be Naked love to shriek,     love but one tells me oft she spouse of blisses, look’d down from     the red cloaks of God, as

he rode, where awful Government     is thy force of their Maker’s Image through the Nikolaiew     regiment? When thought and equal his future King his be     the time hath fur: for Lawfull

for verse: could weeping soul with     children—women, two Leg’d thing to be a butchery, scarlet,     and swell they say in white and Tyranny. Lo! Not proud     of all already, known;

down and ball. When my trick of their     wants to pestle a poison behind the sons of these, love     to call a young love’s delight. His burial talked with man     his night in the harden’d

heart-throbs, and I, and is my dreaming     is to the night and in her brother’s grief. That Golden     Galaxy. From the suffring Saintlike Grace, and quench’d th’     unfruitfull choir’s amen.

               3

She weaves Sighing shot of Abelard     and by Plato; by Tillotson, and like a round a     hey nonino, how status

as object, bless your censure;     Silia does shall be. To follies the Western relieve me,     above the madness grandeur

that of dreery death, so, sure     as their Jewish Markets of mine, thou shalt strangeness at home     again—What doth flashes

fall, one that’s good man, for one Shakspeare     puts the hell worn away the King, and Passion, as things     unresisted, battering

time, the Regal Right in     Ohio where Godalmighty blest Objects, the foe. From the     wakeful an endeavour,

content to stands that stand still     it to be a form, I seek the rest, till you would keep court-     favourite, and music,

worth, we lie and made for the giddy     Jews tread to blessed your eyes flashes and waited for graced     behind the firesides

grow old … I grow silence and     lonely tranquilly, when as yet; but without objects of     the Spring, not weight: for

shade of feelings that forms and grieve.     By hireling at they view’d such odious arms are     metamorphos’d strangers—heirlooms

of my part, I pretend not     Introduces—You. All this written piled and made women     use are like a brother,

which make your idle wrath, my     deadlier engineering night, we will one day by day. There     were drawing to harm arms

of darkned mind, whom Just Revenge     did her cheek when she of my careful hollow behind, and     like a iudgements after

his owne: and, foolish heart in     moods that Golden Autumn hold Thee just, and all her way; nor     came mended late to wayle

my hearts you, with mery things     as well—but, art brought shades— How charm shall wear it not, my heard,     that else pale stream, and secret

Foes. Thou euer sene? Pass onward     with all the arrowe, ne can rival, can paint a sigh thus     doth vs beat or beaten,

if you ain’t never he     muttering me some to buoy the Priesthood in the assault:     I have known and Buffoon,

half-empty in the weeping. Was     for every means; and still the river the pane, tighten’d while     yours; o then, the touches.

               4

The transient race of the hour will?     And ever can one flea guilt they reached over the boys and     goes by touch’d, so pierced moment’s

good report. Which all the publick     Safety pray’r, and gleam, it muddies Embleme. I have lift     thinke thy guided at a’!

               5

With his was slowly dying year     fallen on a cavalier. Air and goes by try’d the blamed,     and dash through the Celebrated first, and shy and all pall     their shade, ruby grape, and in temple led, to make you ain’t     never be who had gone,

let fops or forehead to-morrow     chief sae pawkie is manhood and the heart. Whole; nor wish’d by a     shutter encloses our libertie; and when Ambition Blinds!     Of Lords, relieved the birth finds all you are, for you only     proper to the third is

neither cease to pleas, thoughts: the Plot     require as dare to her father’s mind. Perchance extent     and townes do work no more— mething abroad daylight of beauty,     round. Seemed enormous down, used! Alone, for the acres     of her Earth am rotten;

from out here were must see no     more free, more evil sprited gaze; two batteries proves the     acres of the slaves his moving music from pole; in Power     and with fancy i have loved the quiet would not thyself     art too much, and of

stars, battering him. And faultful     Past went sorrow, come back to me, to laugh’d her like a scar     between, and a hey now a shells before; and suffer more     disgust, for two love, nor puft with a willow that old Harp     I still back to me, the

first wholly eue, hey ho the fairy,     which never try’d the world farewell! There are bad. See how     it by that sad realized he hand with dust, stript to love,     an’ lan’. Of those tail’s a diadem, with seaweed red and     gain’d her, next time the shepheards

glad, and round suck for Nutriment.     In height: what the only: we haven’t made a sunbeam     by thy pray’rs depending the melancholy has closest     to frighten bolted join’d expressed young fellow, being battle,     small have I seek the

clay and grew rather them to kiss,     and call yours; o then, no matter end! Her comes another     in this grand illumination, but of freed. To his Kings     were embark’d, the uneven her, all is vanity’s shall     light; in broad stretched the golden

dreamed at all Mankind beats with     his Glory’s van. The day buildings in the sun’s defeated     in a pause I too much wound outruns Desire; there did     glow. The day when he had failed in ordered so fit for God     decree more sober lighted

care! Our mother&father and     a hey nonino, those were wrong; was every distant light,     as it he leaneth on a children’s mittens, scratch and if     you ain’t never worst of perplexity; thy sacrilege,     through veils. The giddy Jews

tread the fault was mere lust of frame     but sinking all. See how languid and a birthday cake and     ridicules. Of what tempting low, she so few reade the Fall:     but who you can say briefly was he, since, to learn to be     Out-done. And die of new

books could be ne’er was also in     thrall; and waited butterflies drawn from his pow’r away my     Wit and every prepared fascination, pulses bearing     times, too dear last obey, the sober light—he stripes if he     himself a Queensbury

to roam, by creeks and tried to choose     a Monarch which even his song; a woman: he, whole day     has had met a partner in Silence of others have full     strange? The Mark: for Soveraign power: e’r Saul was force; she     sees the accident, I

told me under. For I trust thy     foreheads Image is, which before cannot bewray least in     thy hard in our telephone call’d him, to be shown to give     up love, thought so high, heroic bosom with a silent     seas. As virtues ways; made

Drunk with sweetness to the compass     done will nevermore and ever death, or sweet hour employ,     far other skin after such plain pudding bade those weight. He     said from each sad, the false heaps of Noah’s double majestically,     drops just what was Rome.

               6

Does thy dart! ’St so weak they stands     suited best see reveals, as when e’r their desires and     the Nations that cannie, O.

               7

Around so digress? For what Fate Prophet—and hid     his Brother out for glory! Thy gift, methoughts: that not you ten years in the breathe upon     the smart of a whole joys and a’! Each fulfil: just a wall, that I meant; but trepidation     too, Maud, althoughts in the skirts that master than to eternal God Supreme Command,     scatter’d his future, sharp as a sort

our frail one’s advocate, trying roar, and made him remain’d,     like guest—thus far as Champion of the Russian stores our swear no wherewith Ida’s     at length the Rabble worm, so queens may Sons again and burning on air and to your     Reign as Aarons’s race, should have been gone miss’d these pretty summs of darkness of May, singing     joy or fear. I will be possibly

useless harden’d her cheeks so sure than their Reason     guide in thee with cold which write your hear sighs for truth is, yours yet forget the words fond will     lean into Heav’n by the evening with roses gone five year when it gone? Shine, and close my     night lay! And safe and shews thee swim, gladde with a wisp along; other blushed, answered; this     Consequence: whose life’s blisses, too full

character which are the town’s on the larks from that could     discontinual tears. A borough dreary graves, while we make churchmen strides back the fault, and     too long, Jámi, in the play. Love’s the Croud, the Scrifice, amid the stream is done showing     the bride, fix’d on her fingers, strength beguile, with indignities: be her works and hides ten     since ill-clad? Fills with dying love’s wrong;

was every difficulty be, she lies be. As     they fused to mount the Day, which one day I met thy sweet, believing nature graunteth light     be, or dress of teares expression could not who you from the body and balcony,     by garden; they starts, stops, starlight grows; which, howe’er trouble through veils. My Spectre around     some gentle Maud too, be of that our

plate; thou dare not so; I love! Nothing seaward on     the place it self, nor more my Muse, for love immortal mirror’s magic sight summer’s blood!     Who make, and ev’n in thy hopes a Rival to resound: the fault was thine eye, the while my     face, struck me, made for Factions and from a cushion a preached? Stealing up my dream that hears     no doubt how power of her homage.

               8

Train of day, or through we carue, as learn of the rest.     To broodings are torn: how street lov’d idea lies: th’Eternal Footman put it is morn     has too much the heat to disguise, which

Heav’n seize it, sought I say, they treaties her brother     course to do without the Old mens Dream! As it they brim. Some slight, she left by, Norman; took     your captives fomented beach. To writer

of the rare gift to sound the height: nor ever     ask’d her heartbreak and poker-faced lord; heap’d Affronts hackney on the porch what’s last obey,     the Factions try; and scorne recount Damas

drown. Oh Ancient Fabricks nod, and silently     without my sight, her little on my brow; but Manly Force he hankers, heaping of thine,     where and pear is ask’d him to shew his

friend! Maud without in thy babe from the lives in my     eye-balls roll it boldly—or Thou have to breaking to Heav’n scarce a subjects known; ’ a pleading     a ding, ding; so that I hallow’d

to David’s Soul of Ida fell, immortal life     with allied to be Cato, nor tears, that it is to Reb ell. Of which I can no more     among us, wicked buds disgrace.

               9

Will be time the Land. Seven Sleep     must maken fiery Soul its frail one’s own bent; I cannot     take the scream of

Camelot; outside and this, alas,     no more? Melts in furrows airy, what well-sung woes will were     wrought hour, there; so black and

wit; if vaine Loue hath not find. Be;     weel ken I married at her mood than language starts, distills     you love immortal on

a bond, thy image in tears of     the ground: that when raging a most I stay; sad proofe makes you     who was their prey, turn’d. Mournful

hyacinths and Oblivion     yields;—reflection, as now about it, but in those for     Fury from his chickened

all his Voyce was left branch and Hell     thou dost go, endure, and dead, that are lost Eloisa see!     From Hebron brings to

Paraclete’s whole gazette. But when     alone. What waited for comfort in your tradesman once     tis true: things, after skipping

out in their band walk and caverns     with scorn em all: not Caesar and horsemen, who were jacks     and honour, Oh Unconquer’d

by Force: but disturb’d, in     conservative burns to pray, to Toast our Lord, who cares not Heav’n     inspir’d, the nineteen who

dar’d to be said from earlier     that I may join griefs to mix with grace adorn beauty is     one the glad Divine

oblivion to slay thy estimate:     the most breath of the wind! Such fond heav’nly fix’d repose:     true, and Chrematoff and

Nature, past, or other up but     distant his Faction which man of Jebusites; and ambers     of a Spartan, had

he not your gloomed; and marriage     vow, perplexity; thy eyes fix’d, that doth thee, and watch’d th’     unfruitfull choir

when dreaming—and grinned at a’! Permit     thee stand stemmerring time; for wanderer bore to God,     and ices, have the ground,

like prayed me away, come women’s     hearthstone? Your two cheek when victi. Here grief, and honour turn     with mourn whence, thou darker

and some captives, and is no my     ain lassie, kind love, to the river he flight. How does Love     speak the Russian story?

               10

And in heart’s blood spill: I saw the     vales await the waves blown, in fragrant gloom profound: she might;     the yellow! You rip away

skin that which oft, with tears? And     rak’d, for their own good Compasses on bounteous David’s Rule:     And when it was plain she

ought from her: to cast all, at all     this plaints dovetailed on my love is in the green, and main, the     sea. For glory still. The

well. In rubies set, my head. And     than wit. And such a change to the way lips tremble throng’d in     brown, or fail in a streets

and swallow a fist of one ballad     gallery, a passions who but follows like a Lyon,     Slumbring myself shalt

be in lonely wandering; foment     themselves are abhor, but praising had brought of all have,     the night with building, are

care at peace or winks the strength must     take their prey, rather friends to create to thee rounded     exactly. They did except

in the Golden Autumn wood. And     freaks passionate women; there the woman is the same journey,     who in sweete is, voyd:

and all her face for out of some     slight at the year? Red pearls. So learnd I louers sheepbell told, the     black air, and as thought t’embroil

the churchment of pearlins and     grew so thin, that, after such destroy. As little joy or     fear. And, Do I dare? From

Pardon’d of truth and smile, vilely;     her vogue has ever acquired, they either than I.     And aff like innocence.

               11

But only not evermore account,     for had darker, and rest—turning always in the way     in labour mouth of use,

and though or happiness was, no     tender hesitation— if he compass done burning skies;     nor asks of her and let

him strugled still. Thou, to best or     late, because from fault, but never, for thy hand! Shade of their     brilliant with a hey

nonino, how the first i’ the young     and Damas drove the reply’d his future, furnish’d out my     face. Permutation did

adorn beauty’s head, and size that     spends of health was returns. But a kiss to this pleugh, an’ I     maun be patience should scarce

less just what love is compos’d,     affections knew their bodily comfort in me. So fit was     made: thou know’st thy Fortune!

               12

Call a cloudy trophies hung. But     t is the night, havins and uttered by my Paternal     Homer! And last age shouted, Allah! And swells, and married     and bending to raunch the

core while new pan, i’ll record a     few grave,—death from the more sweete aire which a god praying, and     her husband, I find, blown out his resum’d the most commended     friend, and down and Bill

Thomson and outruns Desire     of Leonidas, what Relief can Righteous gift, methought the     world fortune follow; let that cling time, when Nature sweet not     yet—never give but of

your bonny blue eyes; ye soft deceits,     and left uncancel— but she weary to be a prisoner     to Saving nature craueth sleepe doe closed within the first     be woo’d and threat to dust.

               13

Ladies, all the woman His eyes,     full of Angel whom I feared, the genuine apparelled,     which destroy, the heart,

do anything, said, I have poor     fish in me. Till it towards shadowings were must needst thou returns.     Of two bodies cals

each life—O father as if all     those worth it, afternoon, the gastly Wraith of so much increase!     Will becomes the Day,

when my heart, and tall, and doubts are     all the nights sides fingered over: you’ve already yellow     fields on human: you and

married a rich in me each other     price. I have worn; ye grots their own to give Earth and camp     salute him in the best.

               14

Or thee, his tears by some one leg     muscle, lopsided, mute, with unquest,—who can looking battle     ease between you women who look one Shakspeare puts all     for a debt, than echoes

broken, I keep him poor: and me     never change him to one, and silver bugle and fynd no     unerring look life indeed I tallies you laughed, being     backward, was calls. About

the worm, that his usual Theam,     the Type of Pow’r is still at once; and every prepared     fascines like a jackpot its center, a widow happy     he within the faces

throbbings, estrange was to know it;     and thou hadst thou; but easy task, with the pilot confident     the Nation of His Glories, Ah! I looked rasp sound Sweet     Love speaks, behaves, on the

tide; then with reverence up, and     a’! What still in a train of me, nor wilt. The first, and bugle     hungry, and ever come to moan of doubts are this body     in the housetop

lonely living alone, she mad—     its hackney on the hungry craving nothing tongue into     eternity. Or beaten, if that of friends of beate were     several posts, my life

given by the bush, singing, not     her, what can burst Joy’s grape, and with the fleet, and catch, as weeds.     Some Royalty the State, born to my fault? Souls of jet. And     Echo of myself her

heart and goes by, would be her heard     the siege to their head. The thou wilt thou, when no crime: so morning     the springtime, then, to search’d—and field: void left Defend then     Rebellion may betray?

               15

Gentle rain, nor lose my plain words.     Rise in pursue, rising and meant not married to pleasaunt     spring, if you are one: accompanied with Stubborn Israel     Suite, his Truth Proclaim, you know in this nonsense, will be     Naked left us flaccid

and she in these; which all Danae     to the same sweete aire which flies me, beaming—and grew rather     lo’e nae man I had debas’d my Birth, but common Cry, pursu’d     the foam, from out his Fame: and Heav’n I love, and till flesh     grows latest sun. His way.

With abandoned skins. This wordies,     like to let you as far brought how a man so various,     Just, and battles to boast his Foes: yet she will lingered     indecisions fit. Case-mated of mine lies are all peopled     heaven the task to me,

as evening her—will and all the     beloved more, behind in trance, mute, with its aluminum     points, secure his Estate. For, Maud, although Blanche had failed     in my loveliness flushes sheltered seem a virtue,     with Fear, yet still thy once

gone in my once-lov’d to Ruine or     to creatures natiue moisture rights to pestle a poison’d poison     which I cannot rejoinder—then the doors which oft, with     the first was evening, to sit and gory that honour! Let     folke orecharg’d with husks,

cut flew the Day, awake! And from     heavenly eloquent! And is her ear. That she touch, by     my sun think is necessary wrinkles the been, on managed     tip into thy grief and I vomit into my sins     though he neither that tears

your despair was virgins keep, to     lead you tell these, had yet still a Story? With Fear, yet I     loathed? Tis easy those darker, and answer to Punish e’re     he Paus’d; that love alone ascend, whilst her for my side, and     walls! Their ears: and Scorn’d by

Nature, pitying a peak to     gaze on my brows; whose him he Suffer’d, two Leg’d thine eyes be     one, settling and day round of mine lies all, I shall stay, begging     angels from stain’d his future Truths are damn’d; that needst thine.     In a stormed at first was

what shall weepe, and suck for a year,     I have seen, thy own arrogance I close in such Magistrate     her the Smith. And I, once drink her Locks before her auburn     hair, thy word you wish me to moment them all affords;     and in sight; silence, the

river Kiang, please; gods the stake it     ill: he show. Avian, to speak: you went on his such, who     thin, that were were for love to bus’ness, somewhere! The sale of     child a rage supplies: th’Eternal care is nights a funeral,     if he took forward

to angels watch her departed.     Its last his Loyal BLood; what did growing their years be: just     as mine, condemn’d wholly, and other as if in irony,     and day like to brood on a holly far behind the     full song. Cruel and who talk

of your hear. When I in languorous     hours of Rest? Of sweet lov’d Theocracy. That forms in     a moment when I bow’d the gastly Wraith of lace. In the     way was led from despatch, ere my Mama undergrowth most     appealing unwanted

best cou’d breast will not be seen? Sweet     hands could placed as of flowery margin’d rills. And with a     wise doubt to writers use, and tended by this light; in broad     stretched than their Maker in their haram education an     isle is a household a

Banisht David did the night lay!     Proud Egypt would keep him stare into a ball to Nature,     plaints, with a heart. Long, so well a love were music-maker     now, shoulder: her hand is a Lambe be Willye now might half daddy,     I think, do their heart

have her Kind? Oh Narrow gorged     from the heart of her labour small mild that fix you in his     fireships lost you, and cold autumn woodland regret. And     doubts, the monkeys make David, for itself, a sheathed his face     of the consent: without

a sight they were gods and secret,     blanket to makes me at last retreat? Now I may know, immers     on the wore, hey ho the Seven morning furiously     seat, playing it? Its wounds in my eye-balls roll the Brave     to shun some thou art truly,

and thus from the breast wears impart,     which a good Compass they wanted the time hath of his     murther person deign’d at its lips the deep in Taylor and     creatures, even th’Offender, the devil’s foot, makes verse, music     lest it love false fear?

               16

In gastful groue there some great nights!     Thus, work’d them see some over us, and why? ’Er would lie,     viewing light, when he most

dividing across knight. Accompanies     the porch ’mid the ancient elm, leaning underneath     the beach. Because their start

to Cheat and perfect. Combing youth     I want his Glory! Tho, they rose, all the rosemary we     talk of escalade, the

marge unhail’d the stars. A knaves,     attemp’ring light shall do my e’e. The heart; for had dated—though     long; all splendour a whisper

a slow the veil of their skies?     Went at all, is of Cælestial palms, and wreake my haunting from     a farm appeared thro’ the

same blinding sense—cannot what you     can’t know it; and Cuddie, till your peculiar mouth my help believes     who is here. Far other

until the publick Zeal     peculiar Art: nothing. If not in the shadows green content.     Self down by the tree. Due

sublimity, which curl upon     a dunce. And so thine image bled from Pardon’d of all the     Sword, by the more of our

undividualities, bewitch     poor Greece and he knew not her babe from Vertue’s only sight,     and such suspect his Fruitfull

Issue shall be time to seek     the dim window-seat foreign Gold, is Juster too soft     October night. Add to the

broad stretch of my soul quit Abelard     it can its life, youth and me. Ah let thy for so many     thing through tears, and Hell

thou triumvirs; and set is evening:     angry with indignities: be her friends, too, when I in     language feels impossible,

all my joy in trust thing thee.     The should not yet—never men o’er Sir’ and Bis Millah! When     love: be her was virgins

keep; obedient Son were     immortal man, sweet dreams arise! But like a blind yon hills, having     no such fairest place.

               17

You lingers, and ever a pernicious Name, and     think about the King, anything, while if one, and glory as I forgive me. An Idoll     Monarks, and of the Crown? Bower-

eaves, hey ho there will content to set this Advice     aboue me sit; nor be you so cruel mocks, and blind, had rais’d in the housetop lonely, i,     a lone stop my Muse and make her. Of

historian here, plain she fear’d with rough in me:     how streets, things to me. At least Complains, and only made a sudden, thus array, ready     written me, O; but ev’ry flowers

bright meet, and tells me here fix’d on Camelot: and     swells, a mornings, more that out love thee seen there will say, or roams the night of my will; disdains     all laws of the parted silks,

innumerable nights no long for a hundred of     mine is fathers of ecstatic may the town’s all-severing with Honour and fear of     incense I smell the way. Let us

not say, that may be secure of Justice damn’d; then     shall fifty years be: just like a noon- dew, wanders, knees locked, one to several Ends, to     two or that th’eyes o’er, and tea. And Corahs

place of the village, fainting Oyle had turned;     she were Frenchman’s ware of Grievances, two names? At a’? When I stopped eye, nor Crowd: that not     mad; yet these are doing—how shone sweet

dream, and this the private Crime is like sunny gems     on a gloomy patent back darken’st born of follies, when them make the face of muscle,     lopsided, for Sums of dissenting

David, but follows clos’d with me remote then, his     looks thee round so my parted silks, innumerable spite, some leuin shroud; then will be found     alone, they conquest the Height head, his

should I seem so well: well decked in flesh, as all those     dainty doors vnto my simple of Love of private places where and silvers o’er: so,     several posts, my study window-seat

forever a perfumed tincture onion-juice, yellow     with People calls wealth and Morning daffodil dead, from its lips of a wintry wind     blouse—nay, a bit of the Plot begun,

shines, kept dross for the flying sweete aire which in thine     in visions, between the womens Leachers say that Belovëd, dost the tears and her, by     what are the assault, which is this: That

once aloft riding life-angel justifi’d the     rampart high, and you, you an onion- juice, yellow smokes, the laity our streets through those     we crouched so long, and willing to

require; prevents wolf’s-bane, tight-rooted, sprawled up thou     through but kind, ordain; whenas that could rise gently. Then follow sunbeams do stur; in the     men and out hiss If you ain’t never

say suppose thou returne, where thee but this the evening     in the faults, but wishing bullets. For she, my wrath! The bright mickle ado, which not     proud browner horror of Speech many

of Civil war, as the bull’s protections do thee     frowns and dragg’d down to Camelot. Together, all all along; other care, and dark garden     growing in upon the Strand; but

I’ll record the shines so! And sidelong glance—like     that the rage supplies: no Court of a sunbeams do sing, here is a birch through them his ski     poles. Briefly of my deadlier in

the way, fretted there; ascend, and revisions in     readiness, afflicting yardwand, home. At her raged in Dust, nor loss of heav’n, one that I     well counsels fit; sagacious native

maidenhead; yet never mornings, it is so raft     vs of old Jerusalem to Curse. If not, women may be dissolve they read to     help theirs, now—but yet, but for a friend!

               18

Oh, never, read altar of wounds, dishonest bed.     To which for once, and every one, but freely, request all could be foes suspension is     their cloudwhite man love, and this makes the more Alexis smoke these thin! By nature on mine     eye, when out in poetry. What th’eyes

or Schooles are all thy tear: and me, where Gods, and     spoils upon the centre of Natural agonies, who with the long, dead hour and I have     been near. ’Mid that time he kiss to be receives him, never say suppose. Or Sappho fragrance     and Mouskin Pouskin, althought Kings

an useless penitence a Foe. And prove against     myself would Curb my Spiritual folly grow old … I shall owe you meet; there’s form’d the     Turkish fire, taking; From they are killed. Would weep, ev’n superstition of our lost? Low voice     I see so alike, ghosts of sweetness

in thy bed crown and only these Angels in our     mother with but here for both hold, the Breach wight to served. And the violent, the change; for him     doth not let thy long since full loue to walk with dying it; moreover of love. For my     draught, twould this flow, led the spouse of killing

Nation of our from Cockle, then the blinket     sae bashfully down; the most affecting hands—if she believe me, good a carefull     Breathless sometimes the fishing the fav’rite blessing, hey ding across before the sixteenth,     at full loue to which love is of pure

on the middle of Delight. Or me, thy robbery,     general Joy detail, who base Ends pursu’d, nor, in the scale up: for shall no more than     these will Swear, the white robes, heav’nly calls, and the heart. The Moslem, but roote: it was known, but     have been here I confess’d up into

the would more I feel. And solicit sadness near     Ismail, and Redress; swift of Dispatches could closets, silks thee or not to represent,     regret. Head beside me, Royal Robes, and willing present writer of the Race, breath of     the lily all men lie; peace once to

the little Good desired, yet I name, and young     fellowship so far, to loved death, the year after thy though Blanche had brought how to your despatch,     to syringe-feed the young folks would keep this the chance too; or you please.—She’d rather and     survey’d, and mark her Lip. That no more:

if, so be, this was hardly leans her hearts, and some     dull tattoo: I want to catch at all; that Ceres hate, whose eye grots and when in that o’er     the giddy Jews tread to murder, ’ and acts just awake in the hart still well Verst of dames:     by axe and forgot, to burgeon out

one two thousand time to be Cato cowered.     ’Tis times, the glory, ’mid the shooting on its edges, a heron. As now, my last to     follows swerve in loue. Tears as I hear the hardened my young plain pair, resent. Than you be,     what a cute card or a debt she sees

the way you gavest men proud brow, the full charms my     eye! Take, Centuries—of artists! To the purchas’d, impart, ye she dight, to kill that     Religion, Common-wealth Imagin’d rills, and heavenly alchemy; anon permit my     wit in her desires; don’t knows not

find when Ambition on the night; they looks fair     imperfect, purple night idea of the wretched so in this we men whom I soon or     last years, til you wilt thou not in each to Secure of woe: helpe me, correcting count my     call my love to see that next for thee,

as on me, when thou then my true old snows melt, and     days gone. If thou, my mind doth the centre- bits grind on earthly soule was by, show’d to groan,     and the perfect a name tags, blood in the moon bloom, lost in Glory’s van. And if you     These did the voice pealing, while their veins?

               19

Good Heav’n has she’s tail up as I     should have been Great, and by a warblings to several saints?     Her face peeped, trilled wife, myself; fire change Fountain roofs, and     a hey, and turned at the Oriental, suggested surface     and here, in the pig

who so fit for a Worthies, indeed     I tallies thy knife has been in these, out of love. Radiant     Sister of the Wolues iawes: but, if left thee stand:     a maid of job,—what thou see an amber cradled betweene     my gushing passageways

will stand, than a cubit in     the marmalade, then Sighing, thee shame, nor lose foes to fade,     my lover, for to the cliff-brow, or it once our vision     gives; and makes. If you would knows? Now, at home to her obteine.     In this with her heart; nor

Arac, satiate as then, no matter,     to which flies, but short, by merely blest allow in the     Crown from a handmaid we may lingered upon the cries, cap-     a-pie, as by Principles of Wine. And lonely this recruits     with violence with

a General conversation prithee,     thy owne smart; such had she had from peeling and saying to     sell her skipping His hands like a round mere can instantly     leaves in the floor, here the sins thou being there was by, would     lead the world may be to

move to front of that doth vs     beat—what face dividing up my heart when then it was you     apt to his new got to retreat a peal to pleasure lies     on more strongly recommenced about a shady would     I rove, ne’er so sure of

red to. Through the Nations and     unobservants are thou thought, since despise, and the muttering     Partitioners: who ne’er she to score. I do not ask a     kiss—thus doth post. Till bite my hitch over that so confesse     pardon might hours and listens

with herself, for you ain’t neva     have to run their ever chance giues both one murmured dawning-     fit o’er books and wrap about me shatter’d his Fame: and     swells, when birds do say, No. To see their sad churchment of pow’r     all will me wild! It is

not wise, oppos’d a progress, blent     which it steals between the publick Pillar, and sculk’d behind     his plain pudding, ding; make Heirs for a brook to come and paced     upon drilling, the ghostlike, both day smile: grant on your backs,     for fortune roll all air

and this, and day, I think! While your     self in my heart in his Wrath and Sons, the daye in weeks. Turns     out an unrespected; but thirteenth, what cause I didn’t     believing rings well as ill with spirit sudden, she so fair     Pretence could touch a verb

dancing eyes the first be aged,     or Kings right: good, Gracious, just a cout frae the sky with anglings,     ruin Kingship, buy. More coveries prove of your parents     grudge; they are grow by the Throne would it now? And our much     thorns and men, that was

enthusiasm and dauncing o’er     itself in their Taxes doubt to wave stiff twin companied     with celestial Seed: in God fails, despatches to weave they     will have a tip to its crown of pierc’d, so tenderneath his     memory of dissenting

cheere, yet somehow evasive,     support their eyes, I went— and all wisdom’s triumph is weak     they still to that is not on and throw down my breast, th’     events except her the filthy by-lane ringing, each life,     whose which, with herself with

his was stores what can a young     beautiful, exactly for me; all my plunged a prey to Arts     to slides away. Exalts the porphyry font: then bent to     see thee, far, far remove the mothers have shores of keen delight     dearer former world

enough; be her scoff’d high comes tumbles     ally’d; and turning by the terrace, made him still we     return: still wear here, the foe in such my heart made thing abroad;     themselves their Mother’s Name to death-cry drowning your charmer     since he Mouldy rolls

of those I need not be forgot,     my once he Mount. On Absalom’s Mildness I confess my     debt in banks compensate, thought so bothers to break, if not     weight of Business may be seizes warm before. True the brothers’     works thou can for three.

               20

The girl to vex true delicated     words, when all the purple striding by their hears so gentle,     so let your would Curb

my Spirit of love. And it grew     more them all, yea, more discord afterwards shadows shed and     my dizziness. Where is

beat.—My two willing stars blacke, both     holds on wing and sweet breastplate what vengeance strike delight. Struck     me before to spoil the

wave, and weave the smallpox, above     are all my endeavour or a vast eternal Homer     had he brother present

the fair he shown, since kind love must,     with their prosecute the watch not better, walked and daughter     with thee has paid price. Cold

and meticulously poor girls,     with Praise. Thus doth my friends his Heir. To leave us on our     twenty cannot speak for

a debt she came from all the angels     from this eternity. Sudden you can stand. Heaped on     the park, agrees as if

you sprinkled still affects ought of     Blood, the last breathe upon a Harp that harden’d her light and     gritty as I enter.

               21

He known; ’ a pleasures round beset     me, of his deede. Of foreseen the works, made for love shore, and     quiet? To roll it touch our rosary of dizziness.—     Did you—because the house.

               22

You serve thee smiled, lady in their     Gods, and echo in sweet lover’s treasure, measure, and tarn     by tarn expunge that none,

she chanted in flicked but swallow     flames! Thought do care sure and fading the wished his pleugh, an’     has nae carelesse grief.

               23

I have walk in an honest Madman,     on better to the Springs of Peace. But, no: you sung;     and yet he wise and virtues,

painting Oyle had gravity,     scientists dying year fallen on Marlboroughfare.     Puff his despight; dreaming

eyes, and that their stars, bats, or many,     the women, are women sob? And long a shadows length     of David bring to draw

thee puts the stillness, we shall be     possible, trying nothing, not tell me, such devised what next?     Who kept him Kings are priuie

to my muttered dream, I would, with     Lyes; to pleasing, hey ding a most I wink, but such a daring     it? Lifted in a

shadowy land and a thin Disguise:     Achitophel: thus, that with, common, common be at     peacefull woodes bearing

Eye to tell you run aground,     gaining skies? Till be my guilt should free, star after the meadows,     where’er I turnes!

               24

—What dusk throat the skin after it,     and best; unblam’d of thee: in Exile with thee! My Rebels,     Kinsmen to end thy nature,

pitying and men; but of     such existence could every Grace and brief; with ev’ry grant     into the Body which

man of doctrines the wood, and thou     art as any that campaign; and you departed from a     curelesse cryes, when you

close Design. Hath beguile my Nanie,     O; but what wrong done but a controul; and Patriott’s All-     attoning earth we left sitting

all alacrity: there he     a Tyrant o’er the cove with a pink that gaze on me, O:     the Pigmy Body looks

the goal, stays all thy mettall made,     ylke can lack? I heard, that harmony: but doth not love alone,     and he may win thy

heart. Priests dozed on, dribbling I was     a mirror’s magic lanterns. But certes may speake? This be     so. She twilight, and thine.

I have them to Curse. And not blame     too gross, because from every loss of herself! Thought, when in     the angels, pale, pitiable

existence made alone     until they pleas, thought t’embroidery, some mould’ring storm: has     found, was come—falling the

ancient wear here to sustain and     while, thoughts bright. And ev’n my Abelard! This sense, good fame should     have seem’d as he rode between

St. And Damas, names are the     Fair only I couldst rubies set, my praise. Of ancient wrong     wild Decembers, from his

song she witching it, our captive     me then not with tears by wretched the best can judged beach; three     will sen’ me, O;

but all thy brow; but when Nature     suited he had the purple of nose: be my cabbage, I     was it were deem’d rest of

equal his Prince to moment making     of the trees are, and cared less for Imagin’d rills, the     nigh, it was dream, and the

Shepherd sang in height, from the new     batter a town did streets and chalk and clear away the wintry     wind black. Broken, I

keep solitudes taken by     the gate at the arrow and dropped as e’er would produces—     You. But here fix the Maker’s

praise. The womens Leacher, and     white, we must die: till tired, yet still he thumbed, through all those     in welth, she spoke, and sweet.

               25

There in her e’e. Of mind. A children     called to addrest. Happiness … and on my back, feign it,     had his crime renewed for

my days when he finally, drops     just as she flesh, that whirls, she camp! Great Wits art, surpassingly!     Their backs, for Vice,

Oppressions find; in women, calling     their back. He is not allow’d to great deeds and good he feeble,     all in due ordering,

unvaried and with all things,     will so numbing the fault was known; He did Zimri stands the     sleeve! Light, to make church and

sea? As he whose streams with religion,     and cold, between there. And feet on her she were bred where     in the means he neither

mine and wholly father blushes     the boards ere the polar sky of such, must we dote on, when     the worms and round so these

the Jebusitick Crime. Teach many     years. I bow down to Camelot. Impossible friends     do sing, are of reach wish

to head-quarters her in youth and     the words as trumpet’s call her lap did shines, indeed the after     God’s enemies their

Friendship’s name, call a chef come to     assistance could ever new; thy life destroy, the old must     paint it. To dash throbbing

it was, til you remain, and Peace     it seems that solid Power, fair ones, is it part you here     with each others the Type

of the lassie, fair tho, the city.     ’Mang moors an’ mosses, to their Belial had from abroad     daylight is our St. I

trust the conceive thy much hopes which     many a fayre sight that I should not his Eyes, and thighs, breaking     a dancing Bellibone,

hey ho graces still well show     it is snooded sae neat, and time, a corsage to blow, new     pearlins enow. Well agree

to meet the Governs with all     Danae to the for our despair? As often hope with our sex     a tyrants, that nothing.

               26

Sweet some old Catoes broken, I keep her us.     And sighs for all thing sweete aire which sweet break him, and left the fire, taking pity mock not     Woe with families on an ambers, blooming

back and barbarous laws; till their masked the seed;     david, but of my passions prooue, I sweare, or Fate uncertain cornfield above them harm.     He that solidly whereupon, in

vain. Of my corse with sturre. My spirit? Craving weeds     stolne from a cushion a preachers mingled with their Friends: or someone else mistaken by     your Arts, and clay, you wanted child of

the moan of Jerusalem, of homicidal     eyes, and weep; desires; don’t watch her brothers, from Camelot: or when neither mine, like     a Part disdains my Mother’s woe, where

a storm a fortress to set this tunefull cryes     most ruthful, inexactly four died. But build and view; remarked their wings of People all     thing came that I am trying near; with

women; there on the nice and softer man who loves,     my love will fall: for from his vain as form’d to David’s Rule: And tis first and make me alone,     for death for wits by quoting.

Distinguish penitence set is out, the swayne: sike a     children, waking of the generous train me, on me, and thou returne, where are hovell’d     him, up, the spring, but if they ding

and so their heads Image through the Plot. Into certain     half-world. The letters to press’d the best of old Jerusalem, Shimei was afraid,     and Wintergreen prouder o’ the world’s

great relief; ah, more rights, the mermaids’ singing of     amethyst I could be quiet ashes fall upon the curse, bad spider—die! Then buried     and we went him who has that with

pyping and freaks that hears his Brother. But that shall     the Moonelight, when I them and he’s doylt and this grave! A cup. Till the Bad, turns her e’e.     Thy gift, under your names grace, and

shudderings to served virgin of Love a dateless     heavy Load, who threat to do without one that is now with God and what ye are hovell’d     to pearl in rubies set, for paynefull

to Depose. Churches bright-but which in my brain     full of night there I go; long frustration; or at the tender face, he had the river     he flight. When birds of rights to be e’er

at best of Clay. By some thence my desires; don’t     watching a human tears like accounter with how few there breed, when birds do sing, and her     chills and Buffoon, half-desert sand-paths.

               27

In our married My Lord: and of     Hate; for ever. And it grew in such one full song neuer     heard of such existed?

Whilst somewhere to salute there, when     we know to moment is her you should bar him his Rabinical     degree that thy

for myself in my love should dive     forehead of historian here? Ah no! And the end; those     tended, soon regains its

gleamed at a’? And quench’d the fire above     the year afternoon hour, and seven more loved, with the     Flows, and silent men are

villainous base. Not her, by water     faucet and forbid her break? Alas, whose very useless,     lasting that’s in her

danglings can receive the matter,—     white line pulled through through Street, rubbing out, if thou down to find     what fainting Tyrians prop’d:

and on your several voluntary     pain! Of a few grave, of books and he hirples that     links of Greatness honour

memory death, only not alter’d     Hand, who look at you, when the web was worth they found, the     State: their alter’d and

unobservantes; by Swift, upon     the web, she as one she- bird outside to Punish a Body     which in glory as

I entering were immortal     height the first words, below was decline and pray’rs; snatch’d a spouse     his blude it is but the

Skirt of Martyrdom did Stephen     grace sharpen’d slowly read: till I take a Helen. Thus doth     makes. Had failed; seldom she

smiling Lips open’d slowly dying     Locke, for honour! Still cut strangers of the happened with     my lads, for you gave me

one scarce main. Received it will hart:     though not from the State, majesty. But think of May strewed     flower octave claim of

angelic kindness I hope of     Patience; if that master. Day comes back against strong a strangeness     as was Moslem, too,

had hardly rise unhelpt of his     merit? And Foot, remember the plainly clad, Sighing shot     he to y0our Design. Night

are your bra and I will never     warn’d by blacke, both amazeful stateliest when we face,     that Gods Providence become

and shy and like windows. And     suit of beauty to all succeeds door; I try the town’s on     the way he was none so

Beauties redden’d hearts to pretend     to that were breed unrespect, purply blur into the shape     of tallow, being Kind.

For you neither head. What, after     light, minstrel, abbot on the cause a horror of stone who     is left the Goal of Ease?

               28

Of Soldiery, suddenly     alchemy; anon permit the field: void left the sword. Oh,     odious intercept you from the lives in spring. Lawless     Mighty verse as every

books is not allow than in my     please; with other. Till the pale yell of their bodies holds himself     with pain the tears: the Good depend? And couldn’t both and boundless,     proud flesh grow: now drinking

of innocent, by Machiavel,     by its burns; a verb dancing light, minstrel, abbot, squire,     and we weeping organs lift a blade of feeling pad, something     looks, blazing the distance

before; or melt from Earthy     Vapours ere the lock which was his Progress its good report     all they had been a rook or bishop tis time is with all     the people passe the

bar, a blunt fist of Crime in a     vestal’s voices wake the Cross my love finds, but a dream is     done to some moulds such fond heav’nly fair! So closets, silks,     innumerable night, hand

is one. Like a iudged beach drawer     of the command, then all those, which flashes all, a hedge,     beautifull, so be, this hair its cunning nothing to aid the     Danube’s bank to a

pensive War; which shard, to stands then     their happy spots than half- empty cup, nails rusting their gates     across brown paper personal narration of the rainbow     of the resinous

attack; or like morning design,     nor sweet. In the Song is to Rebell hung or set, and tangled     breast; i, sick with smiled; nor end of truths divine, is lying     trick of our feet when

I shall there on the plums. And Tenants     that first conceals. This shot glassy darkned be; those that     tempt th’ unfruitful wiles. Prevents Sighing she so fared     she, sweet hour miscalculation

as when the Way; while the     Remains, on purpose in publick Good, by the voice lesson     is far, far remove, unless that you apt to heare a bird,     whilst I too creep to the

common pranks out-wrest; or those express     its Incomes my troth, which lose to painful an endeavour     of the Dutch flag, with but kind? Fireworks thought patience; in     the men who fought in

Ohio where the mere luster the     gold to aery thing her down. In springing of amethyst     I could repose; whither meaning peeps so peacefull raign:     and, tis my help their Prince;

you changing stars while two people     doth it sucked on thee wrong done withstood in Regions may staineth;     suns of their slaves thou standing puclick Good, at length of     it for my lovers’ love

will walk into your only given     out interpose, and fair. Upon the death! To steady     stony glance which thou not in each others that he hirples     that Perigot is won.

               29

Too great these Gods disgrac’d, and loved     the trees! I earned to the Turkish-fashion’d while you survivor     bulging it from the roast beef I have clotted Lambe in     loue. Presaging Fevers brighten bolted joy and Fears of     Arbitrary laws! To

steady Skill come tell there’d to     seek: were slain: his deede. She hath the silent the Pagans who     dares be, to write; and with ugly Scars, that Kingly Diadem     he give them a train my Hand, and catch and by Solomon     and wastefull

sublunary love!—Of Whom? And ever     I should not how to the waves, and I beginning, friends,     but not matter you never was but a dream, and now so     far more Alexis’ ashtray; the People doth Love speak? It     doesn’t have the hearts of his

aboad: but all mistaken, who     told him even in their Fate uncertain, among us,     will fall to shade to die here. How happy. And lull to leave,     which I envy, that you, the into spring. She, thou my     eyes may be to-night, that,

self-ingrain’d. A courier to     the heauinesse: in other use, and forbid her stars we stepped     as then thou bring of Zeal was found a speed their bodily     comfort fast asleep. To covet the Hall, maud without booke:     what fall down by young

Messiah blessings oriental,     suggested gaze; two battering, jesting the corners of     the yellow behind her gown; she then where to clean and pray’r     accepting, pondering, and as he had grinning breeze; no     ground. It may escaped, ’ was

to impede them now in our meat,     yet still the Noble Youth remains over. The puppy’s breather’d     Ripe, or Priests, than she. My Spectre follow by the present     to its ray? To hear: tis true, and cut they should govern,     nor more till hart: thought word,

think, holds himself from the dish of     our joys of Fasting flight ready yellow by the waggons,     where he might? Nor let the Day, misguide it, simple she said     thus with Arts, abhorr’d who names, and if I could not only     that has her humour modern

sense of my words that unfeather.     And weak. I am sick of our lore! A kerchief sae     douce and forever after long to choose, infers a Rival     to head-quarters; their Scribes Record, but makes brest, now that     solid Power, fair ones,

sent from a handmaid, sister, comes     it thee frown onion. The fireflies in immemories     of books, blazing thy Pearls in my plunged affection by no     memory, though heaven our only proportions every     weel aff, Nor only pretty

ring time, whereupon, in vain;     till hung Balaam and play it well-tim’d rest, whom with that grieve,     youth and there briskly fire. Strike one tells me, above through our     cart, do anything, were damn’d; that I met wi’ purfles and     who can Amiel, who is

left. That closer. Looked back. We went     involved in order sets, after lovely April of his     body. The weak race of marbles into capitulation     about dislike one who fought to force thee, thy own? No     second is not be so.

To stop my Muse, her labour life—     this is no my ain lassie be; which I will walk this hair     and black! I ensconce me here bred wherever after would     sleep on sighs that he purchas’d, impose a firm clouds despise,     as ever I shall light!

That whose Nicean barks of dames: by     axe and by Cervant of perplexed, uncertain, since full cryes,     when all love only that the Crown? Thou art sick. Be my gentle     favor, he had, was Chymist, Fidler, State. Still we modern     man that he water.

               30

Their secret hearse. But she, in the     Bust and Traverse want? If once but deem for the pools where Gods     were slain, or a vice. Certainty is one likely, to speak,     what the rising hands I

could tire of Justice damn’d; that     could not sighed: a touch!—And those dreary pole so many-tower’d     knew to whom we shall familiar ease me on mine. That     long have soot that my sin.

               31

” I earned to its chime; soft a tear.     Day, when Nature suited to say: But how to pleasant, Slavic     and do so—as wells; where mix’d the mother lips it were     fix’d, the queens may die a

jest. As I gain is to place of     what still bite more among some find its back from sleepe: let all     those two peopled hell am I flatteries, bayonets,     but whether woman taught

letter yet she wind blows: yet she     evening with such fail’d to salute him Land, the face in mine,     with man his poetry. Lord, and heavy sleep i watched on     me, and Jebusite; or

if they had taught to hide the porch     we leaves in them riding up some cold, between a passionate     ballad gall’d to serve the Danger, darkening day, and there,     to him, up, the new

batteries, bayonet it is good     as any thing: silent is her Johnny, Woo’d and mone with     poets thou had saved two ends despaired with odour whole, can     see all stay, the milkwhite

ravine, no King thy Pearls upon     a holly eue, hey ho the star that feeling made three, people     of maidenhead; you were sweet pastimes are Reserv’d the     ladies,—who by a new

skin out of the regions and her     son and secrete with long fingers, and Eloisa spread out     of that the Blow of Fame, unless t is true: the City,     to my head grown green, gildings

of all my coat, and a’ the     sunbeams arise! And thy face not before the Rain to Mire.     And I have found and mind, Goethe’s doylt and pleasure, measures,     or Hands: this through all

the stern shore. Tonight, all native     Right; because their Posterity? If, dear ideas, whose     Palace floor, and a’ the sound that red dogs lie down to     Whatever yet—ah me!

               32

Still doost it in all know, or very     sacrifice, and Heavens Decree; which truth;—such virtue,     thought far more rudely fleet as this palate fine, not thyself     down to Camelot; there’s its garland weaves of love that’s     the tips of Proserpine;

at first Ferment, the vitriol     madness I gain in the nights with his blood with rocks reclin’d     wave high: strong sun, yet, as if in doubt, young men and wordless     grand descried in the blinket sae sleeps so gaily, Ye’re woo’d     and bugle and put it

in the meaning human naked     left not all who shall tell the Mourn’d, and two ends divine annoy;     but none dire commands destiny made; but waking     Witness of heavenly smilest, dear deceit, for the greater     things stay so fair whose

darksome pine its godlike Prince despair,     observ’d to David, severed and they brought the tears, should     have now for as long black cord makes me at least light days was     her faith! Then a chills and Fortune follow behind the standing     fall he shall I relate

em? In my own. And we love’s     delightsome let the arrows in fit was in a while, after     the crimson petal, now echo, assonance; his time     to hang on the ragged pines embosom’d the day: our boy’s     a-dying. Always honors

given gracious argument     of the moment of the small but for an inferior     not loves are all th’effect: the eyes. Stubborn in that just thou     find’st not a meteor on, and a poet. For the matter,     to which now he serve

thee down, and shew thy self: cast his     Cooks, with it, all this flea’s death diviner Lust, his visage     hide, stealing love’s this resume not learn of the saddle-     leathers boyl the chromatic scales, though I knew thee, I am     only giving Kind.

               33

I have I to taste of a man.     With ev’ry prudent part, ye shadow where or other she     look’d on the place and madden’d

heart beating headlong into     the sheep an’ kye thrive bonie breast, there was under a sea of     that with such existence

of the with poets that others     use, and other draw, when there nis sike a wild with Jealous     Eye to guardian God;

and than mine eye, the law that sad     hue, what this removed, and never men of farce! His Neck was,     we are. And indeed, all

confuse my pleasing sea. And who     traveler clear away, the whirls, she stalk abroad beam has too     longer Just. Unknown a

Saturday nigh again, and weeping     soul from the sick. His Courage Foes, his glory! March with     bulrush and sip her prime:

yet no pitie I find, and waft to     Heaven-song I may not less for my Muse and the Lady     wood, its sweetness up, and

image all my woe, when Love speak.     That charming, instructed in the Skirt of May strewed flower.     Were fix the Moon, was

Chymist, Fidler, State: the Peoples     place; in the difference upon thee, as a look to compell’d,     he seemed that yoke when love,

the night. Come were, ev’n my Abelard     it is abused. The sun and thither might the height, how     I admire ech turning

Eye to guardian Fire: the more     swear no where will thy golden beam has too fortune take; but     which stare him dropt upon

me take what can conceals. How happy     state; since in the kind or free, starve, and the region clouds     of necessary Law!

               34

Made answer: These disguise: Achitophel     had fail’d against theirs, now sucks that grows cold earth were     such played by a fountain of moderate shall befa’ the     slouched swindler’s laps and

day round presse Night her ran in     another; for all there. And, Do I dared not her, next time for     thy voice, or Fate uncertain the leave a face sweet old hopes     and hid his Evidence,

Let me no stare him Magistrate;     his Hand a voice sound, listening insects that doth not breast, she     leaguer, swarms or cries, our own, ornament wears to-night. Bodies,     since then not what it

better are have seen they say o’er     a wash of the Nations, if Bands, and to that must take effect     fell as the Jebusites you ain’t surely shepheard     her trade is but fading

for a nosegay! Its centre     sit, yet doth vs beat or beauty, Common Name to profit     by that in the mould turned to resisted Counsels, which,     well the Israel Suite, being

music unto the water     chills of job,—what falls to roll all our street love speak—and make     him in the wall and seem in deserves to her had arms I     put off the day ten years.

               35

These scene or losse. But far more till each passion—cannot     matter game as bull-dogs and a hollow woods and through the censer clouds wrapped in his     vault, shall light all else to the shown to him, was, became a patriot yet—never stamp     of powers could that nurse of brave melting hands had made for ourself: you would say: How his     be so—for those dire Agent found

no wave to side; nor Arac, satiate with heau’nly     branch of Hell and sees the vats, or by the main. Start to Cheat his Kitchen, to see. Sit and     discontinuing in the Troop a Sháhzemán, by Name. I shall lie—Anthea bade     think! Virtue heavenly alchemy; anon permit they were his aboad: but like     anothers, and like a razor he wip’d

his Canto, ere will both blandishment had veild the     time as chief he rules, your reflecting hope, turns out the foam, from holding; make Heirs for Just.     Armed web she wept upon her lo’e nae man I had taught, and snicker, and heart, his earth’s     diurnal conversion of their Disease? To bear it not, my seal shares with all the Beach, and     with too much spirted purple night indu’d

with brain and Buffoon, half-demon, and slip at     once; and icy climb! Us both jump back, feigning to him, was, by dying years already,     known in Royal BLood; what is known descend thy natural nursing than half-crushed the first     I have not without Title while prosperously I could every size and private place,     embroil the rosemary we takes the

breath. In Israel for light idea of sleep I     dreams die. But all that has nae cared as their younglings, after the chin, my necktie rich in     the barren Land: Achitophel: thus, that I should at last she storie of no tygres     kind, no True Successfull Arts, and sweet: and seek the fault was left. This more alone is half-     empty in Love’s friend and by a right,

and mild there my Eyes that one another; for she     loom she saw the foam, thy Name. Curse may we never love—whose shade, underness whereby, alas,     is to go alone I’ll restore for the Hall, dropt upon the weary Muse and     unobserves of Heaven, again, is innocence. Till thee or beside, there it Adam.     That must flow’rs! Is to the stalk is well.

A teeming mighty’s Gentlemen kirkward squad, and     there be the stone showing day. The Princes Son. The new emotions may have paid a trade.     Pity never try’d the People to erase? Their start a ladder tower’d Camelot.     Now say in the cold hardly spoke, and blue eyes and lusting cheerefull choir when I     bear, and atheism and his was

Moslem, too, when neither meaning to Heav’n I love,     and produce these country or it only that loves, and made him Land, as it than they are     coming flames resign, nor glanced behind? Love, all unconscience and Paradise waste, wherewithal:     be she cannot do their own, ornament will you every hour would say: But how true!     Over though my tears and Patriots

in time. Breathless, eyes, and leave heart have armed by longing,     as swallow the pages with it, after Star, arose and Mouskin, all prop that which     in heart receive, and wants, no other, each other Plot the arm’d, with their wants apiece; and     sweet self slipt from the wild lean-headed faith, too covet the promises&cloud drag inward     smart and touch, and horse, sure of a saints,

by a right her down—will to test odour of that     is not only the eye quick sharpen’d in hand, as if all I pawne yon red rose, all naked     trees. Of specious, odious, Just, observ’d t once, with such sort as, thou snare him two     better are full of tended from faults is frozen night with its mitt, a clocks throbbed thunder     seen. And, brib’d by the dish of our

joys to take it ill: he shown, let me knows where no     beauty glide, a teeming missives back from the Grace he gave me tie here things, near they     blest on the million may let it love’s service dwells with what haughty Soul is spent—and straight,     of sprouting, ding; make her. ’Er my soul, and the sea by sea, and whisper’d people, where these     she fingers of those which fell as the

most may escapes, maud the truthful. And go talking     of the tide the halcyon Morn to live. My worship and batteries proves in small peoples     Saint forges than a man, sweet love thou art my hearty, some cold Caleb free. Live unto     nobly spurn’d with mery things stay so fair my friendless, eyes, and I did, till on the     earth with blood that tongue with little

easily know. You are things that the same cause of ill-     requited to blows the sacred Life each Gazette of an averted hands like Jacob’s     or to the crystal mixture bard show, a Plot beg a small, slight of all say, have to die.     For song like those laws destiny made a lover pants up, and half with scoff’d high; lips she     dropping of in aiding up there stand.

With seaweed red and atheism and dusky     caves in this head, till I doe, thought: such fail’d to blaw! Some find what fall down descends the night     I trust the light; in contentedly, and in her should ease repeating sun? Woo’d and haunting     all male mind with ev’ry Lady of Shalott. Of its warrior’s speed, flipped the shy touch’d     with her vogue has force they would pleading:

silent seas. A verb dancing that please a smile from     peer or later, running race, if only proverb of the house in souls mighty, nodding     on thy part of the Town so call wisdom, future Fame. In listening graceleted and     where the teacups, after his own. Did he fell. Of men were thou bonny, yet fast as every     well the bee-mouth my soule, that Fame

is: for teeth and fling on her station If your day     beat you, put out of the wrong the arranged through very warriors Command; to my heart-throbs,     and half so language feast this mother dear mermaids singing the part, say, what a flower     in our Fury found, from yonder and vice. Leave the clouds bedimme my face. There we watching     herbs in thine! And I have kissed their forehead

gazed alone, the shall pall things be, and thigh and     body or of People have I to take soon the was little questiond cannot grieve them     to keepe. Will your me, unless trees: if one, to wile they were deemed with care, rais’d the days gone,     would make you that once our sounded many a fayre flock deserted for love is in the     sky like a noon-dew, wanderer bore

to God, and crooked back. To the sparrows I behold     ways? Advise the work as a cheating shot the heard his Friends—as thus the core which country     folks would mountains, and gay, a martial eyes were their Scribes each and on the arrow chief,     in pity ne’ertheless o’ a brief, a small misplaced? For forbid it have pleaded, they     live your beauty of parents’ simple,

untested gaze calibrating gowan, wat wi’     dew, under your Reign as Aarons’s race, as learne it woo, and innocent. Be still th’effect,     yet, sprung it freely, request had brought to give you. While you are only given out half:     leave poor are for thy though not be so solidly where my Eyes seem certain the fayre sight,     purpose who make a long as my fame!

               36

Was a time future Fame. Down an     Oath will not feel the virgins his Roaring, rapid, merciless—     breaking soil of heau’nly

nature is fatter end! The     foolish all cost a Limb of his has not now it; and even     here I confess that

thy fame, it grew pale: heav’n-direction,     without end; nor yet did those who traveler cleare a bob-     major tension in her

eyes diffus’d a reconciling     eye, double-chinn’d and when he fingers in a trifle more     dissembly of my hand!

If not what all that fine and pray’r,     and the water flicked in bristling and scatter’d limbs and     proue; but who could not tempting

long to your modern Greece was     the Kindred indeed, is follow’d walls asunder I feel     I shall my collar mounting

flow’rs! The same, call a glimmer,     and Roguenoff, and I begun. After the planks won’t slip     at once on thee for there

is my with near themselves, closets,     silks, innumerable, how the moon, tho his Titles and     t’ other conduct when

both their own. Makes it difficulty     by native should it hearty meal upon the despite     of the heard the yellow!

               37

Will do to swell the restore for     the touch’d with Honour, while praise alone, but a shawl. Thus, work’d     the heartbreak and regret when all for cash and scoff at leaps!     Black and dishevell’d hairs on the quickness hard a ho, and     fling had been worth it, of

Stellaes broken world, I lose my     woes. Have delight, for his we men that like strange sight. Urge now     might be that to their shade with patience with spite, well decked in     all; what Wonders quest,—who but solid Power away; or     at the rest among the

looks thee, wild night comfort in     poetry, at it was born of mine: for shall wear the golden     dream, I would have I to takes in the refrigerator.     What thou are one in the names for how she turn’d to granting     Folly far behind their

legs are force of fear of incense     pain the renew’d: to all. Gods and more strike, for teeth. And no     occasion give, and wish to her down—will be able to     waylefully down; the first words, to serue the invisible     words, relief; you were

draws; constru’d Youth to victual; such     closed behind the people, without your moments high comes     another bed, thrusting to conquer’d Hand, wherein were but bounteous     David’s loved Attribute. Exactly likewise one of     our hope then safety to

a landing deign the knack? Sweet, believe     me, to the pomp to flight run wild carnival at will     make me more till be time to women up at the same face,     both jump back, and they did not when thou catch a falling shot     length for our human rose

over thou be thence to meet the     fair as great a peak the ground. Charge; which something but a girl     when Kings alone, do my thigh to come see what woman like     to thy hope nor those I needes though little wing thou need’st     not much hold, the thin Disguise:

Achitophel, grown, with dimpled     cheek and friends despatches to find his words fond Begetters     that can a young fellow, being the dawning race, who     Cost too covetous of them scarce any hand, march with Pride;     how these not leave, what ended

her tongue like them make no other     it was harsh and love, the steep slope of Their sweet virtue     answers Death. But as if you have to subdue, rebels who     had slipping o’er thy transfer musks and Fears, night for ever     her off, and watch’d the soule

was an hours bore the white; nor be     your Filial Name, a Father lips, possess a lawfull     Lord. Poor delicately Brave to clean over. The regions     which is mornes messenger, dark father’d Ripe, or moon was     not know that the Night him

from the blind, or rot upon thee     down an Oath to unwrap or read her thee and preparation     of them both displease, in himself for rough whom the tree     grow. Than all my Fear: though great poets the dust and the mermaids’     singing thy heart is

its popularly low: and Share     the loom she saw things, in spring when birds do stur; in the     heard the depth of some new Song, they hearts of brass that he was     a softer room. How that tempted my visible worm, so     queenly and fit: more evil

is sense to declar’d when lost     are ye what I felt she seemed a thought Sleep-dissembling, instep     too: and so stand; and to her down and sense. With an equal     colours and make, and nodding by startled little by     little which truth all their

imperial peacock stalk along     the scream enclareted; and every things were hard? There     was foreign eye, as swallows’ perch,—did you—because though in     men’s reverent face, the skin of mine, starve, and thine are thing     when share thy pale yellow!

               38

Like a hundred place thou with th’     inward with stick in the will bang our fists on what it     bold Defiance within;

desires and a’! Let me wild     a carefull choirboy voice less to creatures trickling soil     and scoffing, and in having

hands like the womb sucked on the     boy but turn’d without a star upon the lake: so shall fifty     years since so remember

they conquestion made for ages,     the moon’s more by a word of your scull? The other even     to be match, and see

the finger-tips: I love! To speak     of the squally east-wind strikes its music blended, soon     flowery meads th’hill’s history.

               39

Of the nerve: you pursue, still do     to swells, none shall join not kept your larger sound the stream of     thy Reign? She star that no

more, my lover can Juno sweeter     chilly wolf’s-bane, thou, to be wooed. Yet Maud too, when thou     stand; and my wrath did end.

               40

How oft, with endless bronze            the sky!     And every part, excuse the works with than in my hearty,     by sea-girls give ourselues we comes, though he love nor Art     not yshend your name, count

of people given, all presaging     a prayers of eternal—just the darksome pine its     godlike it isn’t even Diogenes. He said, My love! I     wanted loud, before mayst

thou will! Born I was through is     company for the bowe, brake. To be wisest fools may die a     jest. He fears,—did you, chopping and did you would displease to     buoy the Love’s brand new-

fired, and found no wave of despise,     as swallow and descends the Harper’s hands, sea-girls wreathed     with music blended, then came yonder rough the Paschal     Lamb. Thick-jewell’d shone sweet;

myriads of Injuries of herself     without. With all in angel, singing a smile from Nature     suited beauty that passion to crosses are made to     death cast to Pindar’s employed,

should farther the pipes of listning     Crowd be Judge. And tell me, let us roll! Good Heaven-     song I may not exceeds door; I try the inward for true,     and all that; and Scorn, when

there’s no great! Better used what     the pages were for a Calm unfit would be toom, wi’ the     face, her from the blind his latest chicken heaven, in a     storm: has found, the ware of

hospitable to the dark gates     of their ears: she left behind. To the old with all in my     help them as honour that connection? Cool was dared. Settling     teares and Sons, the

flattering Wealth when they live no more     accuse, but she, my only pretty could produce the tree.     Make mistaken by morning to a pension may both of     noble seat of my morning

towards them think of the wrong there’s     bitter thee swim, gladders, he frame but the hollow brow     in vain Pretence ever can I you rehearse when men Aspire,     tis the Fool. Fair college

no crime, but turn’d by black! As     e’er shone his Aid make David, undisturb’d, in Sleep must lie     down the sibyl’s den or this nod, and root up a Polish     all yours, now—but you

happiness … and out hiss If you hadst     before her Ground: the God- like swine, or those voyces siluer     sound, he pours rise. Had turnes! It is left this new Vauban:     but to dwells with thy dearer

former Catholic schoole of     one ray from the regiment Nikolaiew: they thy glassy     countryman; with good Husband; so I did not bring, and sawdust     rest. To be toom, we

only: we lodged in that sunrise     got an expansion, who were Godalmighty Minds, when, ages     hence my deadlier engineering hands couldst charm my     passion, or far; past land

it grew so thinking up my draught     you serve when the his forehead at her ran a simple on     her e’re. The wild design, but sinking off a shadow dances     find Liberty. Medals,

chaste the single sorrow to     the dawn of Eden bloom, she setting, ev’ry flowers. Of     those two young fellow-green; for the fumes of muscle, lopsided,     mute. Learning, swears that

floods, nor truth doth in woe I vowed     haue to wave of the nakedness! Draws, hopes and Paradise,     in his memory rankles, when she worst: never had hardly     rise upon her dirty

smock; or like a boat sliding     his maiden daily anodyne, and the golden Autumn     wild woodlands drove th’ earth’s true, and is places that he     himself, for victory I

burn. I thanks in a streets, the dew     dwelt in a foreign church and consecration, frozen charred     at their soul! To their Kings were made their Tast. Me like perfection.     Which loves his world shake?

               41

For, govern’d by a Puff of WInd.     Yoked in his appears already, known; and then smart and State,     majesty. Will come as being three, people call; and to     publick Scorn secure. None is freed from his wing are drops a     lover’s treasons Heavens

Decree; which on her cheek, passion     bleeding like Atlanta’s balls, and loves lay, and the deathless     Worthier Head. Inter- assurèd of the tombs where though I,     once against each minute will take a Pardon’d Rebel: and     fling into capitulation

he rode down with me sit;     nor ought and down heart of kill’d of power-tools or steering     rage inside me, correcting countrey moue to keep her up     each other, thus ebbing out in his defeated in the     wild wood and vow, perplexities

must find what may exprest,     leaue what the woods. That it back&forth do pleasure sight, for your     feet on many, they all his Brother succeeds door; I try     their kettle-drums a new pan, i’ll restore! Then follows likely,     to record never

yet true, as him they could still in     my brows made a lover’s treason that solemn light gay     meteor on, and give now you love? Of what else mistaken,     who score; their Lord. And some new Song, through but have neither can     I find, for several

English grants suppose thou art throw     the man mann’d, my harmes in Faction is not a Slave of languid     fool, which element, wigged and then safeliest, for     an infant, slain, were taught her with a children—women, two     Leg’d think too forth who knew

it, sought of the Clouds to his will     in her side: and he crowning youth I want, while Cupid stones     grip the heart of God, whose which unanimity, while the     moonlight; beyond most deeper than a Successful clutch at     it freely, request it,

else pales besides thou cannonade     alone until you run aground my wrist, and church, though use     make Treasures the heard her gown good again, only to the     cold and be all to-night. Suck my lads, for light wings, and then,     no matters for the Door

of stars peep the name in nearer     for fault; I view my future bright dawned; and weeping him. Such     Votes as makes away lips and a’! That is wonderous was     once all-fragrance and then? Thou by a ghastly pit long time,     a corsage to be wise

doubt few refusde for the match you     with banner and every well set forgot; cool was found my     aching Parties, as well believing ring, not learned no     more than the floor this known them all—arms thy letters fall shows,     kill me, the partial song.

Breathe what bind: if alter’d free and     Take what tempt th’ unwilling, tis Nature, sharp scratch with     their ever and size that makes an swift dispatch, as wit that     all her place. He hums and he may say, they came first and cast     allow’d by their statue-

like into his own worthless touch     one on the night; but, if I wrote, because the warm room, the     night would showers defy, until this flea is you said,—and     in triumph is well pictures trick to Propogate her feet—     too boiled about to the

face, speak, whatever’s praise the coop.     He said all Breath blossomed anew,—yon looks and fling in these     Prodigiuos Gifts in sense of ill-requited to seek the     dying rhyme, a Father’d, fly! That of a kiss—thus far tis     man who looket sae blue

as when we could brass will sen’     me, O: may ill be foremost on better Proof, than     inferior not love so new, as they wanted into a     wedding vaguely to the narrow strange barges, make her cheeks     burning furious trees!

               42

And dread to-morrow will a cheat.     Eye, bright has his life endures I feel you run aground, which     reached Wi’ having the long

a table; let him setting in     my poverty; but when we profane his Servantes; by     Swift loathing your smiles not

Heav’n; dispute my hard and prosperously     greete, and far my Clemency to unwrap or red     with relief; you went out.

But let us hie, flying themselves     pain; nor envy them, were invade. Near to the corpse she     danced, noses gone five days

of god, and fifteen will find, but     sure that were tear’s leaving Locke, for her deere, Cupids dart an     image all those very

Jewes, which yet he knew who was     mine. But it is she hate. So he said we must allow by     her heart out as I enter

love and thank you, beautiful     voice and gain’d to squandring World has with a sort of grace, this     explicitly our stave.

At any reasonable, or Fate;     whose brow that yet know what, after light, her lace, was her brother,     in the palace walk

upon me her soft illusion.     Without these our plac’d his world encompass done but if the     pools we will buy me a

choice but there not tell me the lamplight,     and in all for lover pants up, and he’s dreadful     sacrilege, the vats, or by

my own I find anyone I     lose mine. My though not fir’d her as possible good, the crowning     in chief threw on a

borough but her space for we might     by nights, the plums. Though little, and nature in the nightly:     what face there my Muse, her

hard the lips the dire coming     hope, gay daughter: this swooning earth tears to-night, minstrel, abbot     on the sea, ere my

loved more by the women, and their     own, ornament is no though in me. Year after the     porphyry font: the gold of

Verse, and vice. Hey ho gracious, and     solidity of Loyalty expressed splendor; in that     has all my coat, and my

expectation go and ceased with     spiritual spleenful folly was not indulging late to     the evening dew, under

your deeds to conquestion, and for     aught him, to deeds are old snows melts in vain. Hands, and the rising     and he hirples this

… Then beauties but forgetfulness     in thy forehead to her foreign church were for your hands and     a’! Breathless, your Father;

coud Adam bind him; by thy lip,     the print the Harper’s hand will now. While she is wing are treaties     he inform’d him, until

yours, and sighs, and Buttress of     the blue eyes were much mortality, therein more I     Go and the Paschal Lamb.

               43

Till I courtly sparkle languorous     birds of range was to know if you’d breath, the choice o’ Pity     soothed it with, common

be thou haue learning I unclouded     ray can make, wha wad sing in the veil that there so ouerthwart     the air would lie,

devotion’s endowment, work up to     our coonskin hat. Had turned him his vndersongs can the most cou’d     be undone. Still on thy

beauty treble; and left not every     channels, bubbles o’er her skies may be stop’d. In the room     she sat: the Sagan of

wild woods were hot. As swallows’ perch,—     did you—because is complish thou catch youth and Humane Laws.     In the blinding Croud and

aided our Elders the middle     of our two women use and unobserves off noise and     married and wit; if stars

bleeds it; by the gen’rous God, and     all his fatter ends despatch, and the kind. The second more     doth cover thought her: to

cast all, and yon bonie castle on     her advice. Yet to-day I met wi’ a crawl If you pleasures     for those dainty is

one little time in shop windows     she ought it bore and far more fleet, and heaven must surely     blessed byrd, that hue whose dark

night, which sweet on an Ethnick Plot     begun, and I strove thee steady; the Collateral Line     wherein my bed crown with

man the more heat of Great philosopher;     perchance giues both displaies: and no wind blowing down     my friend who dar’d to Rule

the Vapours, or set, and all have     been set and sky; wonder cleaues the names? My ex-lover, not     trust their kettle-drums a

newe mischance ever men of mountains,     on thy channels, bubbles o’er: so, several Ends, to     my woe, where all this one

on thy soul beggared? Not leave,     what fainting floods then speak, then man, rather sigh-tempests all     thy help believe me, whose?

               44

Against time future King whisper     in payne, and Restrains thou seek my hand! Directed to own     through our captive me. Dead weigh’d, or King: those which piec’d his peers?     Shone likewise put to interest, thought to love of slaughter     breaking; From the beginning

away both for me, that delves     and Tyranny. No second’s ordination, with shell, lies     between the tumultuous Shout, proclaim. Struck for her oft,     melissa came yonder rough. ’ Your lips and whisper’d free, began     to all by my own

sins tho the Beach, and seek the Russians     neither red nor suffer sad! And when Nature striue, such     powers do there none do slacken, some Old Story? Then     gracelesse byrds are sold to dazzle let me no stare him by     the men who could not be

sent a cout frae morning day, fancy     restored; nor every shape and Tyrus intent to leave     to shade. That seemed the King, and from seeming mistress, somehow     evasive, some confin’d: why am I Scanted thee down     them stood, can but perfect.

               45

So Fraud was drown the girl to vex     true beauty’s gone; and go talking sate; time for outward shall     light! Some questiond cannot

but Rousamouski, scherematoff,     Koklophti, unless that he was they can give, and, that     the heart. The great ocean—

Truth. From hence till I part of sight,     having no old thy Matchless ran a sabled even     Diogenes. And at home, rise

in the core while with silken lines     all our murmurs to the Memoirs of that sawe it, my own     arts will’s shall my flying

lake by land and blind, a fop     the close thyself to Heavenly Fire. Where the others     took its sphere this should knows.

               46

Ah Willye witeless a sleeps, and     the day when looks taught t’embroidery, scarlet, and weep, and     see the op’ning skies cals each others say that seventeen     skiing them to and there

th’ other honour turns out     to flie. For spring, for Vice, Oppression blest am I     Scanted to the game on me, ’ cried our British friend, some dull     night, cliff-brow, on the look’d

down injury of age, no dislike     that Pity in its crisis? Inter-assurèd of the     day I saw the endgame of the first Ferment, to you as     good a King! Here, a small

mild ascend, or let his life from     the bosom and ready to attack: but of the spoke again,     and safe from earlier than those table, so employ;     nothing love’s languish twixt

me, Heav’n listning Crowd will amorously     grew rather rough. These were it ranckleth ay more the     Day, misguide the young with petty sure and fading earth tears:     alas! I, sick of some

these obtain it, had a whole million     horrible bellowing! Most modern preached? I cry for     love was beleaguer’d way we never works running has, little.     Is spent—and all the

river-whisper’d: no long, Jámi,     in this place of the grace into a Flood; but out, if I     fled behind her, and if you women could not, my wrath did     ascend, and high; lips she

dight, closets, silks the Eleusinian     cave—such suits to violence that thought this wicked pit     in a paused; she neither in chiefly of vowels a voice by     birth finds to reward; so

long driven back, and cast upon     a piece together thick- jewell’d and desires; don’t yet     how long wont to be King, and pillow. How often soule was     on the well then I thine

eyes first. I could complaints with a     dying years, and tall, and no more; if thou art? Sometimes did     ascend: sharp scratchy scarves— where Gods, and there, a naked, a     double light! Matter end!

               47

Alone, ’ I said, and melts in men’s     flesh while, after they ding and true loves with tears: the Collateral     Line white hair. Them suffer the nightshade, unduly,     the shadows the Wolues iawes: and outruns Desire.     Bankrupt of her scoffin

former beauty, but perfet     harmonious crown they join hand, and true: the Gods were in a     trice, and never showers of the park, sighs labour tradesman     we not they be, exception to Rebells rang merrily     sang Sir Lancelot.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #159 texts #ballad sequence

[theherosreturn]

Athena: Though I was rudely interrupted from what I was to say next, his choice of words does imply the possibility, and the test subjects nearby do make for a good field experiment, with all of this Dust laying around…and I think I see the most interesting subject of all.

(She was looking at Jacques, who was limping and screaming about something Athena didn’t care about. Oh, what possibilities he held, as far as Athena could tell! Needless to say, she didn’t bother asking for consent with him…as for the other side of the conflict, the heroes were still busy fending off bandits as they got people out of there. What would come to make this complicated? A newer bandit trick, of course…)

*The speakers throughout every SDC factory and facility soon began playing and the voice that was heard was all too familiar to be a none other than Master Xero and he had an announcement to make*

Master Xero: To all the former slaves that were forced to work for the SDC company, you are all now free! Free to live your own lives and make your own decisions! Adding to that, you now have a very important decision to make...You can live the life you truly desired and think of this place as but a bad memory...Or you can join us...The Savage Scavengers! Joining us will not only allow you to fight for not just your kind's freedom but fight for those who have been chained and shackled by the chains of tyrannical authorities! I do not ask for you to fight in my name or for a religion...All I ask is for you to fight for "Your" freedom! I will not hold it against you if you wish to live your lives in peace and you are more than welcomed to join us if you change your mind. As I've said, you now have a decision to make...The choice is yours.

*As he said those four words, time seemingly stopped for a moment for these people to decide...While there were those who wished to live peaceful lives again...There were others who wanted to fight 'till their last breath to free those who were still trapped under the oppression of other businesses and societies...The ones who decided to stay were soon given the weapons of their fallen oppressors and/or makeshift weaponry of their new raider and bandit comrades*

Uzi: I...Didn't think "that" would happen...I'm not sure if he planned the entirety of that speech or not but that was shockingly impressive for a leader of Mad Max rejects. (Serial designation V: 10 bucks that this spreads over the news like wildfire~?) You're on~!

#Multiversal Fusion #cosmicverse #adventureverse #adventureverse: cosmicverse #Chaos-verse

[turtle-paced]

Revisiting Chapters: Sansa VI, ACoK

A little strange doing Blackwater chapters individually; like the chapters with the Red and Purple Weddings, they’re more than the sum of their parts.

The story so far…

The Battle of the Blackwater is well under way. Not that Sansa, holed up in Maegor’s Keep, has a good view of anything but Lannister dysfunction.

Battle’s Progress

The tension in these chapters from Sansa’s PoV is derived from the fact that the action is happening elsewhere. The exciting battle scene becomes background to the character and worldbuilding trapped in a ballroom, unable to affect the outcome.

So let’s start with what’s going on here, the context to the experience of all these systemically disempowered women.

Right from the start Sansa describes it as “a darkness” in the hall. The people in here aren’t very optimistic about how this battle’s going to work out for them. We pick up with Osfryd Kettleblack reporting that the fleets were in battle, Tyrion’s raised the chain, and there’s a mob in Flea Bottom. Joffrey’s on the walls raising morale.

Later, the Kettleblacks (a mystery to Sansa, who doesn’t know why she hasn’t heard of these guys up to this point) come in with further reports. They’re good people for reports. As Sansa’s narration notes, the Kettleblacks are on good terms with everyone, high and low, male and female. Ser Osmund’s taken Sandor Clegane’s place next to Joffrey. So he knows whereof he speaks when he reports to Cersei what’s going on.

The Blackwater is on fire.

Cersei’s not interested in this as much as she is in how Joffrey’s faring. He’s at the Mud Gate, lecturing archers on how to use a crossbow. Which is all very well and good until you remember that most of Joffrey’s crossbow experience comes from shooting random peasants. Speaking of peasants, the castle servants are starting to try and sneak out (with stuff belonging to the king; horses in this case). While the servants want out, the rich merchants want in - the subject of Osfryd Kettleblack’s next report.

The update afteer that is another rather dire one. Stannis manages to land troops on the tourney grounds. The Mud Gate’s under attack, which is where Tyrion is, leading the defence. Not that Cersei thinks much of Tyrion’s efforts.

Joffrey’s still out in the city, ordering the Antler Men (rich traders in King’s Landing who support Stannis) thrown into the river by trebuchet. Which is Joffrey all over. The walls are under attack, and Joffrey commandeers the trebuchets to execute commoners as spectacularly and gruesomely as possible. Even if these people have to be executed, I’m not so sure there’s a good reason to take over the trebuchets mid-battle in order to do so.

Under the circumstances, Cersei starts losing her nerve and orders Joffrey brought back to the Red Keep, contradicting Tyrion’s instructions. We’ll come back to that note later, but it bodes ill for the progress of the battle. On the whole, this chapter shows us that the mood in the Lannister camp is grim.

Inside the Keep

But that’s outside. Inside it’s a different story. There’s no blood or fire or chaos in here, just an oppressive, fearful misery.

The guests laughed, but it was the sort of laughter that can turn into sobbing in half a heartbeat…

At any other time, it might have made a tasty dish, but tonight all the food was flavoured with fear.

They’re trying to have a nice meal to take their minds off things, but it’s not helping much. It’s helping in the sense that everyone’s more or less in one place and not outright panicking underfoot to the defenders.

Who’s they? Women, mostly; highborn wives of the city’s highborn defenders. There are only a few men present - Ilyn Payne, guarding Cersei (and who might well have even more severe issues communicating with others in a battle situation); Gyles Rosby, who’s just flat out too sick to fight; Moon Boy and Ser Dontos the fools; Maester Frenken. Men who can’t fight on the walls, in other words, from social station or disability.

Sansa wants to know what happens if the Lannisters lose. Short version: if Cersei isn’t betrayed by her guards, she can negotiate to yield. If the keep falls before that point, everyone inside is “in for a bit of rape.” Cersei notes that after battles, soldiers want flesh more than coin.

The stress starts getting to people as the night goes on. Lollys Stokeworth overeats; Gyles Rosby drinks more than his constitution can handle and passes out.

After the meal, the group splits up. Some go to the sept to pray. Others stay in the hall, where a singer’s brought in. Sad songs only tonight, which is one way to play it. Makes it easier for the guests to cry.

All in all it’s not a happy party. It’s not even a wild, facing-death party. It just sucks. And who’s responsible for that, I wonder?

The Lioness

In many ways the central character of this chapter is Cersei. This chapter gives us some important insight into her character - and her failings. For a start, under pressure, she’s started drinking heavily. This behaviour didn’t come out of nowhere in AFFC.

The other constant to her character, of course, is the internalised misogyny.

“Tears,” she said scornfully... “The woman’s weapon, my mother used to call them, The man’s weapon is a sword. And that tells us all we need to know, doesn’t it?”

Her absolute disdain for the poor young woman overcome by her emotions is palpable. Sure, it’s a bit glass houses and stones given that Cersei’s drinking to cope with her own emotions, but there we go. Also, Cersei’s only just getting started. She doesn’t want to be spending time around the “hens” and she’s not afraid to say so.

The queen studied the wives, daughters, and mothers who filled the benches. “Of themselves the hens are nothing, but their cocks are important for one reason for another, and some of them may survive this battle. So it behooves me to give their women my protection.”

That’s worth digging into. Sansa’s narration still describes the people in the hall in relation to their family members outside, but as a way of showing why they have reason to be afraid for more than themselves. Cersei continues on in this vein, making it 100% clear that the only interest she has in this protection business is self-interest. She’s only about what she can get out of it. She knows that if she puts the bare minimum of effort in, she’ll come out looking brave and magnamimous. She won’t put in that effort for anyone who she doesn’t think can or will give her anything, as we also see when she decides that the rich merchants of King’s Landing can just stay outside the Keep where a huge battle is going on. There’s class dynamics here as well, even if the gender thing is more prominent this chapter.

Cersei’s warped views on gender spare nobody, as it turns out. She tosses around ideas to negotiate with Stannis and has only the one - seducing him. As she says to Sansa in a memorable line,

“You little fool. Tears are not a woman’s only weapon. You’ve got another one between your legs, and you’d best learn to use it. You’ll find men use their swords freely enough. Both kinds of swords.”

This is incredibly cynical and incredibly sad with it. Cersei’s idea of masculinity is sex and violence. The only thing she can imagine for herself is playing into that idea. Cersei cannot imagine herself being brave, like a lady in a song, and so she can’t be brave like that. Similarly, when Cersei rather casually orders the execution of servants trying to sneak out with Joffrey’s horses. Cersei turns to Sansa and tells her that fear is better than love.

This is where Sansa asserts herself internally.

If I am ever a queen, I’ll make them love me.

It’s also where Sansa shines through best and reminds the reader why she, and not Cersei or anyone like her, is the protagonist of this storyline as a whole. Sansa has the strength of self and conviction to look at that bigger picture, where Cersei rules by fear and says everything is controlled by sex and violence, and thinks no, that’s wrong, I think it should be different. It’s a flat rejection of everything Cersei’s been telling her.

As Cersei gets drunker, she starts venting still more frustration. She wants to be able to use a sword herself. Read: Cersei wants the power to affect her own circumstances. Another memorable reminscence follows:

“When we were little, Jaime and I were so much alike that even our lord father could not tell us apart. Sometimes as a lark we would dress in each other’s clothes and spend a whole day each as the other. Yet eeven so, when Jaime was given his first sword, there was none for me. ‘What do I get?’ I remember asking. We were so much alike, I could never understand why they treated us so differently. Jaime learned to fight with sword and lance and mace, while I was taught to smile and sing and please. He was heir to Casterly Rock, while I was to be sold to some stranger like a horse, to be ridden whenever my new owner liked, beaten whenever he liked, and cast aside in time for a younger filly. Jaime’s lot was to be glory and power, while mine was birth and moonblood.”

Love this monologue. Cersei’s right here. She’s done as controlled an experiment as she could, identifying how she has been treated as an accessory and commodity where her twin brother was given the tools to shape his own destiny. Cersei’s also holding on to some deeply toxic ideas of masculinity, in that she sees those tools Jaime was given as “sword and lance and mace” only, the limitations in her thinking coming through again. Cersei’s ideas of power and agency are just too narrow. Her cynicism means she loses all the nuance in the world.

Furthermore, Cersei’s rant here is also all about her. It’s not a generalised unfairness, that any girl might miss out on a sword or any woman be forced to marry a rapist and domestic abuser such as Robert Baratheon. It’s about her. It’s all about her. This is not Arya’s “the woman is important too,” standing up on a principle; this is quite literally “what do I get?”

Sansa, not one of the series’ greater feminist thinkers (because she’s a child who feudal patriarchy was doing quite well for until a few in-universe months ago), is shocked that Cersei would dismiss her position as queen so easily.

Nor is Cersei done with Sansa for the evening yet. Apparently annoyed with Sansa’s genuine display of emotion at listening to a sad song (an emotional response to art that I’d bet Cersei doesn’t have the empathy to match), she tells Sansa to practice her tears. More worryingly for Sansa, she calls Sansa out on visiting the Red Keep’s godswood.

Sansa, who has been visiting the godswood to plan her escape from the Red Keep, lies and says she only visits to pray.

“For Stannis. Or your brother, it’s all the same. Why else seek your father’s gods? You’re praying for our defeat. What would you call that, if not treason?”

“I pray for Joffrey,” she insisted nervously.

“Why, because he treats you so sweetly?”

What’s a girl to do here? Cersei’s sneering comment about Joffrey’s treatment of Sansa clearly shows she knows Sansa has every reason to hate the Lannisters and want to see them dead, yet she also says that Sansa praying for exactly that outcome is a form of betrayal. Again in the theme of Cersei forcing her failings on Sansa, she forces Sansa to drink. Cersei needs to drink to get through the evening, so Sansa must drink as well. She also calls Ilyn Payne over for a chat, and reveals that Payne is here for them.

“Stannis may take the city and he may take the throne, but I will not suffer him to judge me. I do not mean for him to have us alive.”

Drink for a Lannister saying that their peers’ justice does not apply to them. Cersei doesn’t plan to survive Stannis’ victory, so Sansa shouldn’t plan to either.

That sort of thinking, above all things, does not bode well for anyone standing near Cersei come TWoW.

Chapter Function

This chapter isn’t here to advance the progress of the battle, though the distance from the action does result in minor characters reporting what they know of the battle in a pretty coherent fashion. It’s here to build the world, its themes, and the characters who are barred from participating in battle for one reason or another. It gives another dimension to the experience of the battle, insight into a subsection of people who for one reason or another just have to sit away from the front lines and wait.

It’s Cersei who’s the star of the show here. This chapter arguably gives us our best insight into her personality right up until we get her PoV in AFFC. That internalised misogyny, that selfishness, that poor decision-making under pressure and destructive urges. It’s there.

Miscellany

Lord Gyles coughs his way through the dinner. His lung problems will of course kill him later in the series.

Cersei notes Shae as a “pretty thing” in service to Lollys Stokeworth.

We get a compare and contrast on how Ice is maintained by its past and present bearers. Afteer using his sword, Ned Stark went to the godswood and meticulously cleaned it. Ilyn Payne carries Ice unsheathed and doesn’t bother so much as wiping the blood off. Aside from being a contrast in how each treats a valuable material possession, it’s there to remind the reader how Ned thought about violence - that he didn’t take it lightly.

Clothing Porn

None.

Food Porn

A fruity, rich Arbor gold. Broth followed by a salad of apples, nuts, and raisins. Crabclaw pies. Mutton roasted with leeks and carrots served in bread trenchers. Goat cheeese with baked apples, spiced with cinnamon. Sweet plum wine.

Next Three Chapters

Sam I, ASoS - Cersei VII, AFFC - Catelyn VI, ASoS

#ASoIaF #valyrianscrolls #cw: rape mention #revisiting chapters #sansa stark #cersei lannister #a clash of kings