Claire is based on the many babies my mam childminded over the years. Some of this made it in Bound in her Bones - where it actually went much worse for Lizzy.
Lol none - I do have a norribeth play list but those are all angsty songs so not really fitting for this fic where they get a HEA I never listen music while writing. This is giving me way more credit for the amount of thought I put into writing than I deserve. That it would be easier to write the ending if I did an outline. A lesson that does not seem to sink in apparently :.
Ashwinder :: To bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses
I love meeting fellow Tomlinshaw fans, the fic is so good. I wish we had more :. Log in Sign up. An Ever-Fixed Mark. Title taken from Sonnet cracked-kyber-crystal Padme grinned. Djskhdsjn I… I am not sure if the correct tools for that existed in the Regency era. Ask amarguerite a question an ever fixed mark that looks on tempests a dalliance with the duke.
Ask amarguerite a question my fic that looks on tempests an ever fixed mark a dalliance with the duke. He sees his love, and nothing else he sees, Nor nothing else with his proud sight agrees.
Look, when a painter would surpass the life, In limning out a well-proportion'd steed, His art with nature's workmanship at strife, As if the dead the living should exceed; So did this horse excel a common one, In shape, in courage, colour, pace and bone Round-hoof'd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long, Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostril wide, High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong, Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide: Look, what a horse should have he did not lack, Save a proud rider on so proud a back.
Sometimes he scuds far off, and there he stares; Anon he starts at stirring of a feather; To bid the wind a race he now prepares, And whe'r he run or fly they know not whether; For through his mane and tail the high wind sings, Fanning the hairs, who wave like feather'd wings. He looks upon his love, and neighs unto her; She answers him as if she knew his mind; Being proud, as females are, to see him woo her, She puts on outward strangeness, seems unkind, Spurns at his love and scorns the heat he feels, Beating his kind embracements with her heels.
Then, like a melancholy malcontent, He vails his tail that, like a falling plume Cool shadow to his melting buttock lent: He stamps, and bites the poor flies in his fume. His love, perceiving how he is enrag'd, Grew kinder, and his fury was assuag'd. His testy master goeth about to take him; When lo!
As they were mad, unto the wood they hie them, Out-stripping crows that strive to over-fly them. I prophesy they death, my living sorrow, If thou encounter with the boar to-morrow. William Shakespeare Three Songs Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands: Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd,-- The wild waves whist-- Foot it featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear. Hark, hark! Bow, wow, The watch-dogs bark: Bow, wow.
I hear The strain of strutting chanticleer Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow! This life is most jolly. Academy of American Poets Educator Newsletter.
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Teach This Poem. She was suddenly grateful that even though she was fated to have a criminal for a soulmate, she ended up with one more likely to save her life than end it. She shook herself and tried to focus on the conversation happening around her, one that she was supposed to be an active participant in if her mind would just stop wandering. She'd been poked and prodded and given a clean bill of health. I thought he was going to eat Lorca if he didn't tell us how to contact Kornish. Whatever he plans to use you for, Keen, good luck.
It must be pretty goddamn important to him. He was waiting for her when they released her a half hour later.
He looked cold, but he wouldn't ask for his jacket back and she certainly wouldn't offer it until she was far away from anyone who was there the day he spoke the words it covered. I can't go home. Not now.
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Tom's gonna to want an explanation and I can't handle going from one interrogation to another. I need to just… be. You've come a long way from attempted murder. A side effect of repeatedly saving my life, who would have guessed? That's what I need right now. Tom isn't safe anymore.
She wouldn't tell him any of that. He held a mug out to her and waited for her to wrap her hands around the heated ceramic before he sat down next to her and did the same with his own. He shrugged. At this point, I think I get more comfort from the nostalgia of it than anything in the milk itself, but if it works, it works.
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What a strange turn her life had taken in the last day or so. She went from being kidnapped, tortured, and nearly dissolved in a vat of chemicals, to sitting in a hotel room next to The Concierge of Crime, sipping warm milk. Her thoughts ran a mile a minute, her emotions both familiar and foreign.