#but present me does not care as long as my movement returns

[lilbirdblu]

why are people already giving me unsolicited advice on how to prevent the laceration on my face from scarring/how to fade it

for starters, it’s not even completely healed yet

secondly, i don’t care???? if it ends up being a very noticeable scar then oh well, i truly don’t care?? imo i don’t think it takes away from my appearance at all—my only concern is if i’m going to have the full range of movement back

#like maybe 23 yr old me would be upset about it scarring #but present me does not care as long as my movement returns #trust me i have plenty of experience with scars pls stop preaching to me about mederma or vitamina e/a/whatever #that being said all things considered it is healing SO nicely #much better than i expected tbh #legitimately the only thing that concerns me is the twitching/spasming and how i still can’t smile/eat properly among other things #personal #bird rambles

[harunayuuka2060]

Luke: ...

Child MC: *looking at him with sad, pleading eyes*

Luke: What is it?

Child MC: Help me buy something for Rapha.

Luke: *frowns* What do you not understand? He might've probably abandoned you. How long has it been since you've last seen him?

Child MC: But Rapha always comes home no matter what.

Luke: *scoffs* You have been neglected and you're not realizing it.

Child MC: That's not true! Rapha always takes care of me!

Luke: Then where is he? If this Rapha truly cared for you, he wouldn't let a bunch of demons approach you.

Child MC: *confused* Demons?

Luke: ...

Luke: Forget it.

Child MC: ...

Child MC: Are you not really going to help me buy something for Rapha?

Luke: No. And will you stop asking me? I may have decided to stay here, but that's only because no adult is here to look after you.

Child MC: ...

Child MC: Does that mean you will stay here until Rapha comes back?

Luke: What? Have you just heard what I said?

Child MC: *nods* Thank you, mister! *smiles*

Luke: ...

Simeon: Raphael? It's been a while. How have you been?

Raphael: I'm doing fine. How about you, Simeon?

Simeon: Everything's been hectic. Oh, and for some reason, Luke hasn't come back yet from his visit to the human world.

Raphael: I see.

Simeon: ...

Simeon: Is there something wrong?

Raphael: Why do you ask?

Simeon: Well, you looked a bit restless.

Raphael: It must be your imagination. You should take some rest.

Simeon: *chuckles* Oh. I'll do that later. Anyway, I see that you have knitted a sweater. Are you planning to give it to someone?

Raphael: No, it's mine.

Simeon: Really? Isn't it a bit small then? You might want to check the measurement.

Raphael: Okay. I will do it when I have time. *takes his leave*

Simeon: ...

Simeon: *smiles* I'm sure whoever that child is, they will be happy to receive your present, Raphael.

Mammon: L-Luke... Wh-Why are you here?

Luke: I should be asking that.

Satan: We came to visit someone. I assume you already knew.

Luke: Of course. You're here to seek a replacement.

Belphie: *frowns* Replacement?

Luke: Why? Am I wrong? Would there be another reason why you're approaching the child?

Mammon: Hey! I know what you're trying to say here! But isn't it the same for you?!

Luke: Huh. You dare compare yourselves to me? I might need to remind you how you destroyed them!!!

Mammon, Satan, and Belphie: ...

Luke: I suggest that you stop visiting this child. For the sake of peace.

Mammon: WHAT'S WRONG WITH HIM?!! WE WERE JUST THERE TO VISIT!

Belphie: Throwing a tantrum wouldn't do anything, Mammon.

Satan: Are you saying that we need to follow Luke's suggestion?

Belphie: Of course not. But we have to lie low.

Lucifer: Lie low? Why? Did something happen?

Belphie: Ah, Lucifer. Well, the child we're visiting, Luke found them and now he's guarding them.

Lucifer: You fool... Didn't I instruct you to be careful with your movements?

Mammon: Huh?! Why is it our fault?! I'm sure he had detected you and Lord Diavolo visiting the human world before us!

Lucifer: Hmm. In that case, we need to stop the visits for now.

Lucifer: And wait until Luke has to return to Celestial Realm.

Luke: ...

Child MC: *fell asleep next to him*

Luke: *puts a blanket over their shoulders*

Child MC: Luke?

Luke: Yes. That is my name.

Child MC: Like... Bringer of light?

Luke: ...

Luke: Yes.

Luke: But I don't think it fits me.

Child MC: Why not? *smiles* I think Mister's name is perfect!

Luke: ...

MC: When I have a son of my own, I would name him Luke too.

Luke: Eh? But why?

MC: *smiles* Because I want him to be as bright as you.

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me mc #obey me luke #obey me raphael #obey me simeon #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me belphie

[famina]

Return to the bad side of town

Note : I never intended to continue this story, so I'll have to redcon the ending of the last Yomi fic. Sorry.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You are nervous, your breathing is faster than usual. You are even shaking a little. Although It’s hard to tell in this shaky train cart. You tightly crip your backpack to gain calm you nerves. Are you scared ? Of course, but that’s not all. You are also…excited. You really tried your best but you never could forget the one eyed boy who helped you so long ago. And now, despite what you told him, you’re going back there.

You aren’t sure what ‘there’ was exactly. You tried to do some research, but nothing is supposed to be in that part of town. That strange concrete labyrinth you’ve visited doesn’t show up on any maps. And you couldn’t find out what were those strange creatures that attacked you either.

This was not your first attempt to return to that place. But it had proven harder than you’d plan. Many times before, you stayed on the train as long as you could. But it would always stop to the last station in some suburb. It never took you ‘there’ again. You were about to give up when you had a thought. If you couldn’t get to that place by taking the same path, maybe it was about timing. The night you got lost in that strange location was on the equinox. You weren’t sure if it was the solution, but it was your last chance to meet with him again. So you had to take it.

And so, you patiently waited for half a year, and tonight was the night. You hoped it would work this time. But a tiny part of you wanted it to fail. If what happened 6 months ago really was a dream, that boy wouldn’t be suffering as he was.

A Bumb on the tracks jolted you back to reality. You were almost there, you could feel it. The skies were cloudy, and no vegetation was present. The next station will be the one. You psych yourself up while dreading every second.

The train stopped, you look outside. This was it, that same eerie station. You stepped out. All the courage you had seemed to have stayed aboard the train who was now leaving. You tensed up completely. What were you doing ?! This place is dangerous ! You got kidnaped last time, remember ??! And what’s the plan here exactly ? How are you supposed to find him !? He could be anywhere ! And you don’t-

“(Y\N) ?!...”

The familiar voice startled you. You turn around to see the one-eyed man coming up the stairs. He’s wearing your old coat, who has seen better days. He looks at you with absolute astonishment.

“Y-Yomi !!” With joy, you run towards him. This seems to wake him from his daze.

“W-W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE !!? IDIOT !! YOU SHOULDN’T BE BACK HERE !!?”

This cuts off your moment of joy and you become irritated. “Yeah ! Well…I’m glad to see you too.”

“?!!” This remark perturbed him, and he became less angry and more pouty. “mmh..Well don’t blame me if you get nabbed again…”

This made you laugh a bit. This guy really didn’t know how to express his emotion. You moved toward him. “So, how you’ve been ? I see you’re still wearing my coat.”

He grabs the coat firmly and backs away. “Y-Y-YOU CAN’T TAKE IT BACK ! It’s mine now !!” You burst out laughing.

“Relax ! I don’t want it ! It suits you better anyway.”

“??” With uncertain movement he looks at the coat on him. “R-Really ?” Then he snaps back. “Well, who cares ! It’s warm, that’s what matters !!” you smile.

Yomi doesn’t return your smile, but he does look somewhat happy. But then, he looks pained and totters to the side seaming weak all the sudden. You rush over to catch him if he happens to fall but he pushes you back instinctively. You back away from him and he looks as surprised as you that he did that.

“S…sorry…” He apologetically utters.

You didn’t like the gesture, but you accept his apology. In any case, there are more pressing matter. “W-What’s wrong ?” You ask with worried eyes.

Yomi slowly and meekly sits on the ground, keeping his hurt expression. “Ah…Nothing big.. I just..”

GROOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooOOOOOOOOOOooooooWWWWWWWWWWWWWWLLLLSS

“…Aaah…just haven’t eaten in a while I guess…” He let out a sad sigh. Your eyes widen. As he continue to crouch down in pain, you notice that under his heavy goat, he’s frame is very slim. Was he this skinny last time ? You aren’t sure. Your heart starts aching. Then you pull out your backpack and open it to reveal a feast ! Granola bars, protein bars, canned food and some candy!

Yomi becomes speechless at the sight of so much food ! There are stars in his eyes and you think he might even be drooling a bit. He then comes back to reality and backs away frantically. “W-W-W-WHAT’S ALL THIS !? W-W-WHY ARE YOU SHOWING ME THIS ?!!”

“It’s okay !” You reassure him. “It’s for you ! I brought it for you !” He looks at you in totally stunned. “F-Fo…for me ?...” He timidly looks back at the pile of food and gulps. He’s whole body seems ready to plunge on the meal and gobbled it up but he restrains himself. Dejected, he turns his head away. “I…..I can’t…”

“W-Why not!?” You say. You knew he was distrustful, but you thought you’ve earned his trust by now. “I-It’s not poisoned I swear ! H-Here ! I’ll take the first bite.” You’re about to open a granola bar.

“N-No !” Yomi exclaims ”It’s not….mmmh…You get nothing from nothing…And…I can never repay you for this…” He said this in the most sorrowful tone.

His sadness pains you. To reassure him, you smile tenderly. “Where I’m from you do. Sometimes at least. There’s no need to pay me back. I just…want you to feel better!”

Those words were said in the purest sincerity and even the distrustful boy could see that. He puts his glance back on the feast and stares at it longingly.

GRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrroooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWLLLS

“?!!” He seemed surprised by his own crying tummy. Stubbornly, he grabs a protein bar and eats it vigorously, then another, and another ! You happy to see him finally eat, but you are worried about the speed he’s going at. “You don’t have to rush you know. It’s not going anywhere.” With a full mouth, the one-eyed man gives you a look of bewilderment. “Uh…I can carry all this ! Besides, you’re more of a prey if you carry food with you.”

You hadn’t thought of that. And thought you had thought of everything. “Well, you can’t eat it all now ! You’ll get sick !” He’s bewildered look persisted. “You can get SICK by eating too MUCH ??” Hass that never happen to him. “Yeah ! Of course !!” The boy became totally baffled. “Huh….Never knew that…” You guess he never had that much food around to find out.

“Well you can keep the bag I guess.” You finally say. “And all the food is sealed or canned, so I doubt anyone could..I don’t know...smell it or something.” Yomi stops his binge-eating. “Yeah. About that.” He picks up one of the cans. “I don’t eat metal, you know.” You laugh a bit. “No, the food is inside. Here, I’ll show you how to open it.” You get out the can opener, you DID remember that. And you open the can before him. “So you twist it like that and…Done ! I’ll leave you this tool too.” You open the can to reveal some canned pineapple.

Yomi’s eyes grow at the sight of the yellow fruits. “I-is that…the golden rings !?” You’re not sure what he means. “The….what ?” “T-The golden rings !!” He responds, as if that was an answer. “Y-You know…there on pizzas…and they sweet, but also sour and..and..” He’s suddenly all emotional. This melts your heart. “Ah ! Pineapples ! Yeah ! You like them on pizzas ?” He looks unsure. “Well…I didn’t know they came from else where…” He gazes at the yellow rings as other would gaze at pure gold. Slowly, he picks up a piece and takes it to his mouth. As he bites in the fruit, he whole body is elevated, he savors the fruit and his eyes even become just a bit watery. A silence has fell between you. After he finishes he’s piece of fruit, he utters softly. “(Y/N)….thank you…” You are too affected to answer, you simply nod your head.  

Yomi eats at a more regular pace and after a while he stop. Seaming full now. “this…hm…really helped, thanks..” You smile. “No problem.” The man look at train station. “Train should come soon….You should go.” You’re sad, you wished you’d had more time with him. Jhe looks even more sad than you. “And hm…Don’t come back this time…I mean it. It’s not...Like I don’t…ARG..it’s just too damn risky, okay !!”

You know what he means, but you can’t just leave him alone. With determination you lock your eyes on his. “Then come with me.” He’s taken a back. “H-huh ?..” “On the train !” You explained. “Come with me ! Leave this awful place !!” He faces now expresses pain. “I….I can’t…” This time you won’t let that answer stop you. “Why not ?! Are you afraid of what’s in the other side ? I’ll help you that !” “It’s not that !!” He bursts. “I…CAN’T LEAVE ! No one who is born here can ! The train leaves but we stay ! Get the picture !!!?” You do get the picture, and it’s not a pretty. “O….oh…” You don’t know what to say.

 Yomi seems embarrassed for his outburst. “So…just give up already…It’s not like I…mh..” He cannot finish. You two stay silent. The train finally comes are you begin embarking on it. Then you turn to him. “No, I’m not giving up !” The one-eyes boy looks up to you, mystified. You continue with confidence. “Yomi, next equinox, in 6 month, I’ll come back here. Will you be here too ?” The boy is astonished, he almost forgets to answer your question “uh..Y-yeah ! S-sure..” This satisfies you and you leave with a smile. “See you then, Yomi.” He smiles too. “See ya (Y/N).”

You get on the train and watch Yomi’s silhouette get smaller and smaller as you ride away. You’ll both have to be patient, but you’ll be together again. 

#stomach growling #hunger kink #belly kink #hunger fic #oc art #tummy growls #belly growls #hunger #starv1ng #hungry boy #tummy rumbles #hungry tummy

[monstrousvoice]

Anon returning with more pondering.

How do you think the omens in Lyndell feel about Margit, if they know about him? Because one of the lore bits on omens says that some are allowed topside and given their cleavers, but only if they'll serve in some capacity.

Do you think the ones in the sewers resent 'Margit' for being able to be a commander? Like one hand his service is good visibility for Omen not all being total monsters, but also he's.. The Fell. His reputation is literally Scary McSpookyName.

I was just pondering his and Mohg's time in the sewers and wondering if they made friends down there. If other omens heard them crying in their shackles and came to be of comfort, knowing the pain of being abandoned. If they survived those first few weeks down there because the omen had to stick together to survive.

I'm now pondering if Morgott ever did anything for the omen, as king. Because he does still resent his own curse, but also if he made a law about omen that leaves enforcing it to people who likewise probably believe omens to be cursed. And social mores aren't going to change overnight, even if he did do something like make abandoning children illegal.

Sad thoughts. Though i can comfort myself with the mental image of Mohg at least having friends to take with him to his cursed blood slumber party in the palace while fixing it up. Still a fucked up dude, but we love an antagonist with genuine friends. Or we can all pretend Morgott visits the sewers on occasion as Margit and brings presents. Because if i think about him visiting and finding newly abandoned children i'll get sad.

Okay this is a long response, so more under the cut!

Honestly, I think a majority of Omen in Lyndell are vaguely aware of Margit in a "I think I heard that name somewhere before", simply because news travels through word of mouth in the capital. They would only hear about him through gossip above the city grates that keep them locked away, and that's only if people are brave enough to talk about him. With such a fearsome reputation as a Tarnished killer, he isn't spoken of much in public.

I have two dueling ideas of how the people of Lyndell view him. Those who hold their suspicion and discriminate against Omens (which is many, being truthful) they don't speak his name for fear of gaining his attention, for fear of bad luck and misfortune coming their way. Those who are more progressive (which I firmly believe exist, the Knight's Calvary being a prime example of those who don't care about Omen lineage) do talk of him, and have nothing but praise. 'Margit the Fell is a defender', 'The Fell Omen protects us and keeps us safe from outsiders', etc. They recognize the devotion this Omen has to them despite the hatred he faces on a daily basis.

If, and don't mistake me this would be disastrous if it happened, Morgott would be revealed to the world and his Omen heritage found out, he would have some support. Not much, but it would be there. I fully believe the Knight's Calvary would go out of their way to help him escape the capital and find somewhere safe. There would be those brave enough to risk speaking out against the masses, insisting that he served them the best he could not only as Margit the Defender, but as Morgott the King. They would suffer for it, but it would spark a movement.

As for Omen who live outside the capital, they are aware of Margit, and I feel they would have equally divided opinions. Some see it as a positive sign, an Omen getting such a high position as Commander in the Golden Order, giving their kind a good name as reliable, protective, intelligent.

The other side is how he's pushing things too far, how he's going to make everything so much harder for them all. 'The Fell'? That title only spreads more fear of their kind! He's known for his bloodshed and the terror he causes in others.

I have my own headcanon that Omen do have their own communities and work together to survive, as well. In the sewers, some of the older Omen are devoted to staying near the openings of the tunnels, waiting for new babies to be abandoned. They sit under the dappled star light peaking through the grate at midnight, jerking awake at the sound of the gate opening. Their eyes glow as a dim lantern comes into view, and they see a shaking noblewoman being held close by her husband. She sobs quietly as they step closer, and the Omen sees the small bundle of cloth in her arms. They hold their own hands out, massive compared to the couple, compared to the tiny bundle that hasn't even started to live. The noblewoman is just barely able to move her shaking hands forward and give her newborn away, and she all but collapses when she does. Her husband cries silently, helping her stand and pulling away before either of them change their minds. The adult Omen turns and leaves quickly, knowing that the presence of the baby will make it more likely they do change their minds. They can't though. Changing their minds means certain death, for all of them. The Omen remembers the cries of each parent that goes through this with them, the way they call for their baby to come back, how they want to hold them one last time. The Omen knows the consequence of listening to them.

Morgott, as king, I believe tries to change this very slowly. He's very aware that enacting a new law for Omen and Misbegotten to be seen as citizens right out the gate is going to be met with lots of push back. It's a weird contradiction of his personality. He doesn't think he deserves anything good, not even a real bed or decent meals, but he doesn't believe other Omen or Misbegotten, especially not children, deserve to go through the same things he did. He's proud of his strength and resilience, but also feels ashamed of why he has such qualities. One of the many intricacies about him I personally love to imagine.

Any laws or rules he does enact are small, but helpful. No pouring dangerous perfumers or concoctions in the sewers - this helps the citizens, but also helps those in the sewers. It is illegal to beat or attack an Omen or Misbegotten in the capital - this can be played off as general citizen safety, but it also leads to less injured and hurt in the sewers when they sneak out for food. He creates and enforces small laws like this. Trying to make the abandoning of children illegal is obviously the most worthy goal, but since it's something that's been enacted for…possible centuries depending on how long a demigod like Morgott has been alive, it's not something that citizens will take kindly to. Especially those who work with Omen Killers. It's a very delicate situation, because moving too fast leads to more destruction and death than they currently face. The best possible scenario, in my opinion, is Morgott being given more political and civilian support to create these laws, and then following them. Easier said than done, however.

#Elden Ring #Morgott #Morgott The Omen King #Bee buzzing and crow cawing #I have many thoughts on the world building and how discrimination works within the world #I'm always happy to talk about them

[caniscathexis]

First, my students read Freud’s “Mourning and Melancholia.” The father of psychoanalysis creates a binary of healthy and pathological grieving. If the bereaved is not wholly aware of their loss, and therefore cannot directly process it, this leads to a state Freud calls melancholia, resulting in “profoundly painful dejection, loss of the ability to love,” and other miserable and enduring consequences. In contrast, there is healthy mourning: the bereaved consciously knows their loss, and shuts out the world to grieve it, eventually returning to a state of normalcy, which Freud describes as a kind of equilibrium.

This conscious mourning can take the form of ritual. After Ed’s death, Bob and Ed’s partner Daniel disrobe and wash his body before it is taken away to be cremated. Glück writes, “Daniel and I unfold him and try to lift out one arm but it won’t be guided. It’s so like Ed, I have to laugh. Trying to steer him was always a challenge, like pushing a shopping cart with one bad wheel.” After the two have successfully removed Ed’s blue and white kimono, Bob focuses on a single leg, which “splays outward, then his knee falls inward, loose-jointed as a broken umbrella.” It’s an incredibly tender scene—more intimate than the sex scenes that populate the book with piss, come, an asshole “bubblegum pink, so clean it twinkled.” The scene of the washing is a kind of inventory, and the final body part recorded is Ed’s cock, from the tip of which a single drop of blood emerges. “The drop of blood is the only indication of the pandemonium that occurred within this body,” Glück writes, “Here to present itself for a bow, Ed’s murderous blood.”

The uncanniness of Ed’s being dead, even if it’s long expected, repeatedly has an air of the theatrical to Bob: “It’s a weird kind of play, someone’s death, that pressures the actors.” Everyone has their part. Still, these stilted roles, these practices, are meant to help the bereaved, to give shape to their mourning.

After Ed’s death, Bob thinks through mourning again and again. “Mourning is the fear of losing Ed combined with the fact of losing Ed,” he offers in one of several definitions. He even names Freud explicitly, and “Mourning and Melancholia” more referentially, using the words in close proximity. In a passage about the grief of time carrying us onward, he asks: “What is mourning? The will bends back, nailing me to the awareness of time. I spend days staring at a bright spot on the wall that moves with the sun, so I become a sundial, the melancholy motto is the self.”

. . .

Glück honors Ed’s life without insisting on the context, or perhaps retrieves Ed’s memory from its context, asking, in one of the few moments he names Ed’s death as one among many: “Was Ed’s death a trauma that replaced his life? Was he thrown into the mass grave of HIV? In mass death, recovery occurs in the collective mind over time. It may take a generation to reacquaint ourselves with the dead, for their rich complexity to be apparent once more.”

Robert Glück cofounded the New Narrative school in the Small Press Traffic Bookstore in San Francisco, through writing classes open to the public. The school of writers included transgressive icons like Dennis Cooper and Kathy Acker. New Narrative writing is identifiable by its careful observance of dailiness, including chat, sex, and sensory descriptions—rich complexity. One motivation, Glück writes in his essay “Long Note on New Narrative,” was to see if the writers “could come up with a better representation—not in order to satisfy movement pieties or to be political, but in order to be.” Queer people were among those not afforded unpolitical lives. Crimp paraphrases Michael Moon in arguing that the “normalcy” Freud expects a healthy griever to return to does not exist for gay men in a homophobic culture. Cultural production reflected this; the daily lives of queer people were hugely underrepresented in mainstream art in the 1970s. Yes, the personal is political, but perhaps there could be personal lives captured without the burden of political messaging. Glück asks, in his same essay on New Narrative, “What kind of representation least deforms its subject?” Perhaps one that refuses to instruct.

New Narrative began in the 1970s, predating the AIDS crisis, predating Ed’s death. I have spent years studying ACT UP, which began in New York in 1987 and was active in San Francisco in the final years of Ed’s life. I know well the context in which Ed is dying, at least as well as someone of my generation can. Ed died in 1994, near the end of the worst of the crisis: in 1995 the FDA approved the first protease inhibitors, and the following year saw effective combination therapy become the standard of care. Had Ed gotten sick just a bit later, maybe he’d still be alive today. Perhaps I am ruining Glück’s project, in a way, by stitching the story back into the political context. Near the end of his essay [“Mourning and Militancy”], Crimp suggests that militancy busies the hands of the bereaved, and this work, while vital, distracts from adequate mourning. “Militancy, of course, then, but mourning too: mourning and militancy.” I should let Ed rest, I think, and allow Glück to mourn.

Who is afforded a non-politicized death? Who is afforded a non-politicized life?

The murder of my acquaintance is nearly immediately instrumentalized by the right wing. He’d been a dedicated harm reduction activist—we’d helped to lead a Narcan training two weeks before his death—and the worst of the internet emerges to callously pronounce that the leftist got what was coming, given what he’d advocated for: dangerous streets. (He was killed by a stranger at a bus stop.) I find myself, perhaps naively, astounded by the cruelty—the online posts have the gleeful tone of cartoon villains, when the loss is unspeakable, impossible, devastating. Those who loved the man interrupt their mourning to insist publicly that the circumstances of his death would not have changed his political and moral convictions.

As sick as this makes me, I find myself strategizing elsewhere, sourcing material in the stories of others: a friend and I exchange articles, asking which newly published think piece or war diary will be the most likely to politically move people in our lives. The relatable Jewish Brooklynite, reflecting on their morphing relationship to the Jewish State, through statistic- and history-heavy analysis? Or will the first person account from Gaza, tragedy stylized in prose, persuade a reader that Palestinians deserve to live in safety and dignity? It feels dirty to plot like this, to utilize the real and present grief of others. But in this moment of urgency, it seems we are not above it. Maybe in a generation, I think, these dead will be able to rest.

– hannah gold, "voices of mourning"

According to Klein [in “Mourning and its Relation to Manic Depressive States”], when a later grief is experienced it is not only a fresh loss in the external world that must be contended with, but a disturbance in the subject’s internal world that was originally constructed in response to the grief associated with their early loss:

The pain experienced in the slow process of testing reality in the work of mourning thus seems partly due to the necessity, not only to renew the links to the external world and thus continuously to re-experience the loss, but at the same time and by means of this to rebuild with anguish the inner world, which is felt to be in danger of deteriorating and collapsing.

Klein declines to dispense with Freud’s term “normal mourning,” but she nonetheless modifies and stretches his definition: she identifies more intermediary stages in the process and claims that it involves reckoning not only with immediate grief but with more distant past experiences. She therefore seems to imply that mourning has both a tenacity and a longevity that Freud refuses to grant it.

Yet despite supplementing and revising Freud’s definition of mourning, the strangeness Rose observes in “Mourning and Melancholia” is not completely absent from Klein’s paper. Although her main focus is on manic depressive states and thus on obstructed mourning processes, ultimately, like Freud, Klein insists that “normal mourning” is a process with an end, even if she locates its beginnings in infancy and hence argues that its middle is longer and more fraught than in Freud’s definition. Only people who did not successfully overcome the “infantile depressive position” will fail to overcome a loss experienced later in life, whereas others will eventually reinstate their internal “good” objects.

Her essay ends by describing this end point. She declares that the mourner “overcomes his grief, regains security, and achieves true harmony and peace.”

. . .

[T]he weird abbreviated ending of Phenomenology of Spirit and “the extreme narrative compression of [Hegel’s] account of absolute knowing” seemed helpful for thinking through Klein’s similarly abrupt and surprisingly resolved conclusion to “Mourning and its Relation to Manic Depressive States.”

In an essay in The Dash, Comay analyses the ending of the Phenomenology in more detail. Although she observes that the book “suddenly sprints forward to the finish line,” she continues that, “it’s not just the traumatic abruptness of the last dash [by which she means both rush and the punctuation mark with which the book ends] but also a curious indeterminacy of the endpoint that intrigues me.” Everything that had been dilated over the course of many chapters is suddenly compressed, regurgitated so abruptly as to become almost illegible. Comay asks whether Hegel is a mourner or a melancholic, does he relinquish the lost object (mourner) or maintain it in “hallucinatory persistence” (melancholic)? The unanswerable answer seems to be that he is both: the dialectic continues even at the moment of its supposed cessation. Or perhaps mourning always retains a melancholic aspect; the terminable and interminable cannot be separated.

Comay argues that despite the appearance of closure and finality the Phenomenology “engages the repetitive, restless energy of the dialectic, its obsessive, circular doing and undoing: every inscription supplies its own erasure, every erasure its own reinscription, and this intransitive, tautological transition from negation to negation is relentless.” Proclaiming all scars healed enacts a violent erasure of its own. The form of the text remains scarred even if Hegel declares it conceptually healed. Comay claims that “the Phenomenology is the perfect case study of interminable analysis”; “antidote is… indistinguishable from injury, health from illness, and poison from cure.” It is this repressed or unresolved tension that Rose sees in Freud’s definition of mourning and that I want to argue can also be discerned in Klein’s essay. The wound remains hidden beneath a rhetorical sticking plaster that masquerades as healed flesh, but which threatens to fall off at any moment. Scars remain; wounds are not left behind. Maybe mourning never really ends, but that’s not the same as saying that nothing changes.

– hannah proctor, "mourning interminable"

[whump-me]

Conquest, Chapter 17: Trust and Loyalty

Chapter 17 of Conquest, a novel-length fantasy whump story about a timid royal clerk captured by the disgraced prince who needs their help to rule their newly conquered country. This series is best read in order. Masterpost here.

Contains: fantasy setting, male whumper, royal whumper, whumper who is also a whumpee, emotional whump, abusive parent, psychological effects of parental abuse, punched in the face

---

Kezul

Mir did crawl—literally, their lopsided movements painful to watch. Kezul had to force himself not to look as Mir made their slow, halting way out the door. He was glad when his father slammed the door shut again before he had to watch Mir try to make it down the length of the hallway.

Mir would need that wound treated, and soon. Would any of his Wolves take care of it, if they saw? Probably not. They would likely assume the prisoner had deserved whatever they got. Kezul would have to order it done. And when he did, his father would know he had done it. His father had eyes and ears here, and Kezul didn’t know where.

After the door was shut, his father stood in front of it, legs wide, arms crossed. He faced Kezul the way he might have faced a defeated enemy, or one of his Wolves who had disappointed him. Kezul had to fight the unaccountable impulse to drop to the floor and present his weapon.

He didn’t, of course, because that was never what his father had wanted from him. His father didn’t want another obedient Wolf. His father wanted another son. And Kezul had never managed to give him that. How many times had they stood like this, over the years? His father looking down on him with those iron-gray eyes, while Kezul stood with his eyes on his feet, squirming under the weight of his father’s disapproval. No matter how many years went by, he was always a boy standing in front of his father, knowing he wasn’t good enough.

But he wasn’t a child anymore. He had been given charge of Danelor, and he had done well with it. Well enough to undo the damage his father’s army had done—damage he suspected his father had meant to be irrecoverable. Well enough to earn the respect of his Fangs.

He was not that boy. Nor was he the defeated soldier he had been, freshly returned from that disastrous battle.

He kept his eyes on the floor, but he straightened his shoulders. He took a long breath. “I have ruled Danelor for a season now,” he said. “When I arrived, its people were starving. Now they will eat for the rest of the winter. There have been no revolts. No whispers of discontent from our neighbors.”

“Yes, I’ve heard about your relations with your neighbors,” said his father, his voice sharp and unforgiving. “Was that the prisoner’s doing? Or should I call him the king? From what I hear, it seems you have elevated him to the throne. What does that make you? The court jester, like they have in Faraille?”

“You left me little in the way of resources when you gave me this throne.” Kezul stopped short of saying it was a test he had been meant to fail. There was no sense in saying it aloud, not when they both already knew the truth. “I made do with what I had. Isn’t that something a ruler should do?”

“You seem to understand very little of what a ruler with my blood in his veins should do. Making deals with Danelor’s aristocrats! Letting them negotiate in your stead! Bribing them with the promise of food and a seat at the table. They’ll think they’re not conquered at all—and I wonder if they’re right. Who really sits on your throne, Kezul?” He shot a sharply mocking glance at the wooden throne behind Kezul.

“Danelor was in a desperate state when I came here. They had no food. I couldn’t even feed my own army.”

“Then if things were that hopeless, you should have razed the lot of it and started over. Turned it into farmland for Kyollen Naskor. There’s no need to worry about food if there are no survivors to feed.”

“You told me to rule.”

“Better to rule an empty land than to let these people think they have power. You are not ruling. You are eating the scraps they throw you from their table, and you are too stupid to see it.” With those last few words, his voice rumbled like distant thunder. Then the thunder arrived as his father stormed past him to the throne. He drove his foot down hard into the wooden seat. A crack ran up the seat, but the throne held.

Kezul tensed, but didn’t flinch. He was accustomed to his father’s displays of temper. He knew what his father wanted from him now—unconditional agreement, and an apology to follow it up. At least, from him, the apology would not have to be entertaining.

But he was not a child, to offer a child’s chastised agreements, a child’s apology. He was ruler of Danelor. He had passed this test.

“I understand your position.” Kezul tried to keep his voice even. He realized, as he listened to himself, that it was a habit he had learned from Mir. “But this way, Danelor will produce more for us in the long run. And making building good relationships with our neighbors may help our reputation.”

“Help our reputation.” His father went still, his voice low and deadly. “You intended to change our reputation? This was not mere incompetence? You mean to have us known as people who make deals with the weak southern lands? Who offer them concessions, who approach them on our knees with our hands outstretched? Is that what you mean to tell me?”

“Of course not.” But Kezul didn’t know where to go from there. It had made sense when Mir had said it. But he didn’t know how to explain it to his father, didn’t know how to explain it to himself. He had acted on faith and instinct, following Mir’s advice instead of Gyoras’s trusting Mir that being open to cooperation was more fruitful than the threat of violence. He understood it, could even half-verbalize it to himself—they had food, and they had relationships, and those relationships were resources, and wasn’t it best for him to make use of every resource at his disposal? What would more shows of force get him beyond a burned expanse of ruined countryside?

But that was what his father was saying he would have preferred. A destroyed land, emptied of people, rather than a reputation for cooperation. And Kezul had been taught, all his life, that his father’s desire was the axis upon which the world turned. When his father wanted something, his Wolves made it happen, or they suffered for it. When his father wanted something from Kezul, Kezul made it happen, or knew himself to be a disappointment.

It wasn’t even that he had been taught his father could never be wrong. Right and wrong didn’t enter into it. There was only his father’s desire, and his father’s will.

Of course this wasn’t what his father had wanted.

Of course he hadn’t passed the test.

“I should never have trusted you with this,” his father said. “Not after your previous failure. I should have known that even a small, insignificant country like this was too much for you to handle.”

Kezul—standing here in his throne room, beside the throne he had sat in for months—felt the sudden urge to shrink down into himself and apologize. Apologize for not passing his father’s test. For proving himself unworthy yet again. For not being the son his father wanted.

His father’s desire was everything. And Kezul, whenever he failed to be what his father wanted, knew himself to be nothing. He was nothing now.

But he was a son of the Unmaker. Should he apologize for doing what his father had told him to do? Should he apologize for doing a better job than his father had thought he would, than his father had thought he could?

He kept his shoulders straight and kept his apologies sealed behind his lips, although it cost him a lot to do it. It was his throne, and this was his palace, and he was his father’s son.

“Danelor will survive, thanks to my decisions,” he said. Even though we both know that isn’t what you wanted. He didn’t say that part. He didn’t need to. The truth lay between them as plainly as if it had been spoken. If he had burned the whole of Danelor, his father would have branded him a failure all the same.

“It will survive,” he repeated. “Give it a few years, and it will be thriving. I don’t even need a few years—give me until next summer, and I’ll prove it.”

He heard a hint of desperation in his voice, and inwardly cringed at himself. Even now, he was apologizing, even if he didn’t say the words I’m sorry. Even now, he was bargaining for his father’s approval. Give me until next summer, and then you’ll be proud. Then we’ll see how I’ve given you what you wanted. Only he could never give his father what he wanted, because what his father wanted was his defeat.

He, not Danelor, was the one his father had meant to destroy, to raze to the ground and begin again. Danelor was only incidental.

That made the rage rise again in Kezul’s belly. It felt like the madness coming back, like when he was in the courtyard doors and thought his Wolves were insulting him behind his back. They hadn’t been. They had praised him. They had offered him respect, true respect, for the first time in his life. He had earned it. He had earned his victory. He had—

The world spun, the walls tilted sideways, and then he was on the ground. A pain spread from his cheek out through his jaw and into his nose. His father stood over him, fist still clenched. His knuckles were streaked with blood. It took him Kezul a moment to figure out that his father had struck him. He touched his hand to his cheek. It came away dark red, a match for his father’s knuckles.

His father loomed over him like the mountains of Danelor, far above him and untouchable. His stern face looked like something eternal, outside the normal rules of time and humanity. Kezul tensed, embracing for the next blow, but it didn’t come in. His father looked down at him with a sneer of disgust, as if he wasn’t even worth bloodying his knuckles again.

“You’re as weak as I always suspected,” he said. “As weak as you proved yourself to be in battle. I should disown you now and done with it. I should give you to the people of Danelor you love so much, and let you see how much love they have for one of their conquerors.”

“Then do it,” Kezul said, his voice slow and distorted from the pain in his jaw. “Give me Danelor. Take your spies with you.”

His father’s fist clenched again, and Kezul thought that second blow might come after all. But still didn’t come. “I could have you killed for making such a demand of me,” he his voice was not angry—anger would have been better. It sounded like he was merely speaking a truth of the universe, like a god handing down knowledge from on high. The sun rose in the east, the snow never melted in the highest mountains, and Vorhullin the Unmaker could have his son killed for daring to speak to boldly.

“Danelor is mine,” he said. “It would take a war to wrest it from my hands—and you, my son, are not prepared for war. Your army belongs to me, just as your throne belongs to me. And we both know how well you would fare in on the battlefield. I gave you Danelor as one last chance to prove yourself. That does not make it yours to demand of me.”

Then do it, Kezul almost repeated. Have me killed. Put an end to this game where we both pretend I can be what you want. But he didn’t say it. He had been trained for the battlefield, but as everyone already knew, he didn’t have the courage of a warrior. He didn’t want to die.

“But it would reflect poorly on me if I were forced to openly call one of my sons a traitor,” his father said. “Just as it would reflect poorly on me to let someone of my blood proved himself to be irredeemably weak. Do you think I gave you this chance only for your own sake?”

His father looked down at him with those stony eyes. Kezul knew better than to speak, or to raise himself up. His father wanted him on the floor, so that was where he would remain. His father’s desire, as always, was everything.

“So I will give you one more chance,” his father said. “Rule Danelor as it should be ruled, in a way befitting a son of the Unmaker. Do that for me, and I will raise you to the level of your brothers. Do that, and you will be my son.”

There were so many protests Kezul could offer. He didn’t voice any of them. He knew better—because as his father spoke, the last pieces of the truth of his situation became clear to him.

He had always known this was a test. And he had always known he was meant to fail. But it was more than that. His father didn’t want Danelor ruled, didn’t want it as part of his empire. He didn’t care if its people were fed, didn’t care if they rose up in armed revolts, so long as they didn’t shame him by spilling his son’s blood where others might see. When he had first arrived, he had had a passing thought that his father could have conquered this place solely as to serve as a test for him. Now he knew he had been right.

But it was not meant as certain failure, as he had thought at first. His father did not, after all, want to publicly disown his son and admit the weakness in his blood. He had assumed his father wanted him to fail. Now he knew otherwise. This was an arena to prove his ruthlessness, to prove he could do from a throne what he could not do with a sword in his hand. He was not here to rule. He was here to destroy.

He was here so his father could say, Yes, my son has the stomach for battle for destruction, for blood and fire and death. Yes, despite his shameful scar, my son shares my blood, and my blood is strong.

If he had destroyed Danelor—as he had wanted to so badly when he had first arrived, but never considered as a serious option—his father would have welcomed him home with open arms. He would have failed to rule, failed most spectacularly, but that would not have mattered. That was never what his father had wanted.

And what did that mean for him now—now that he understood the true rules of the game? He could hardly turn around and undo what he had done, send the food back, burn the remaining farms and the surviving villages. Was that what his father wanted from him? Did it matter if it was? His pride would not allow it. His pride and, perhaps, something else—the thing that had stopped him when he had seen Perajeon standing helplessly before him, waiting to die.

He could not do what his father wanted. But he could not defy his father, either. His father had eyes and ears in the palace, and if asked to choose, Kezul’s Wolves would not choose him. Not even his Fangs, most likely, no matter how much of their respect he had earned. Respect was one thing. The will to defy Vorhullin the Unmaker was another.

His father’s will was everything. He could not stand against his father’s will. What he wanted did not enter into it. To defy his father will be to defy the mountains themselves, or a river strong enough to carve a canyon from stone. It was not a matter of courage. It was a matter of impossibility.

If his father suspected what he was thinking, he said nothing. Such things were, perhaps, not relevant to him. What did the river care what the pebbles thought as it swept them along in its path?

“You can start by thoroughly breaking this prisoner,” his father said. “Consider it a demonstration that you have what it takes. Do you think you can handle that?”

What could he say to that? If he refused, what then? It would not save Mir. There was no defying his father. Or if there was, he had never learned the trick. All he had learned to do was apologize, and when that failed, to lie bleeding on the floor.

“Yes,” Kezul said, nodding and feeling sick.

“I would like to believe that,” his father said. “But you have given me little reason to believe. I think I will require a demonstration from you.” He offered Kezul a hand. Kezul, feeling sicker, took it and let his father help him to his feet.

“This will be a good chance to see where your loyalties truly lie,” his father said. “With your blood, or with these conquered people.”

But his father had it wrong. This wasn’t about loyalty, any more than it was about courage. It was, as always, about what his father wanted.

---

Tagged: @suspicious-whumping-egg @halloiambored @whump-in-the-closet @whump-cravings @sunshiline-writes @annablogsposts @whither-wander-whump @seaweed-is-cool @bloodinkandashes @sonder35 @cakeinthevoid @looptheloup

Ask to be added or removed from taglist.

#whump #whump writing #whump story #whump novel #my writing #my writing: Conquest #fantasy whump #royal whump #nonbinary whumpee

[smash-64]

2023 Game of the Year Countdown #7 Sea of Stars Nintendo Switch, 2023

I was actually a backer of this game over two years ago! A few people recommended it to me recently, which was cool that some of my friends knew me well enough that they recommended something I was already intrigued by enough to back financially. Shoutouts to @boner-taunt and @hyper-knux for that!

The game is simply gorgeous. The best pixel art I’ve ever seen in a video game. Vibrant colors, perfect lighting that gave the impression of dark and light areas without ever making me feel like I couldn’t see where I was going. Wonderful glowing lights and colors also enhance so many of the attacks and spells, as well as dynamic backgrounds and environments that react to your presence and movement. It’s shocking how talented the devs were to make a game look so good while also making it feel like something that belonged on the Super Nintendo, even if the SNES could never hope to run something that looked so good. It’s like they’ve tricked us into seeing both the past and present simultaneously. And as someone who rarely geeks out about graphics, you know something special is going on for it to happen.

I was expecting quite a bit from the music, and I feel like I was satisfied, but not overly impressed. Perhaps I was expecting too much once I saw Yasunori Mitsuda was involved: the talented composer who did the masterpiece Chrono Cross soundtrack and was in charge of the Xenoblade games as well. The level up music stood out, as well as one of the battle tunes, but I was hoping for a variety of location tracks to catch my ear as well, and it didn’t really happen. I do find the soundtrack to be really good to play in the background while I work, and the soundtrack is extremely long so that fits it really well. 

Despite having combat that is turn based, I was sad to see that you have to take an active role in both attack and defense, much like you do in Super Mario RPG. While some enjoy that aspect, I do not. It was actually one of the main turn-offs for me when I tried Super Mario RPG, so I found it to be a hindrance in Sea of Stars. Likewise, combat does major damage to your characters, and you must constantly cook food to help replenish your health both in and out of battle, since it’s likely that you won’t be able to constantly return to a campsite to rest/recover that way, and healing spells can be costly or don’t heal a significant amount early on. Luckily, I found an item that automatically recovered health after each battle, which was a nice aspect to include for a more casual experience. To be completely honest, I’m not sure if I would have completed the game had I not had the ability to recover after each battle because it was a chore to constantly cook food to keep on hand for healing. 

The story is ok, but it took absolutely forever for me to feel interested in it. Coming from a Trails fan, a series well known to be the slowest of slow burns, that’s a bit of an issue. The game also left me with a lot of questions, as many aspects of the story felt random. I found it hard to follow at times, especially with regard to what to do next. Perhaps this was part of the retro style design, as many older games lacked any sort of real guidance on where to go or what to do, and definitely no journal/diary system to remind you. 

I was not blown away by any of the characters, either, although I do appreciate Garl as a generally positive and caring support character. The “warrior cook” class he creates for himself is also a nice touch.

Overall, the game is fun and I’m glad to have backed it. It’s rare for me to enjoy my time with an old school 2D, top-down type of JRPG, so to have it show up on my Top 10 for the year at all is fairly surprising.

#game of the year #goty #countdown #sea of stars #nintendo #switch

[simpingcowboy]

Circles

Pairing: Frankie Morales x GN!Reader, established relationship, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 900+

Warnings: description of mental health episode, disassociation, allusion to selective mutism, allusions to death (?)

Summary: Your boyfriend Frankie helps you manage a mental health crisis (happy ending I pinky promise)

A/N: Hi! This is alot more experimental and poetic than most of my work here, but I hope you enjoy! Inspiration taken from John Donne's poem A Valediction: Forbidden Mourning of which I've written a short explanation of the borrowed imagery here :) Can be read without reading the poem! All you need to know is that this is referring to a drawing compass not a directional compass. As always I tried to be mindful of warnings but please let me know if I missed anything!!! Thank you <3

Twin Compass

"Where are you Baby?" Frankie called to you.

"Everywhere." Burdened with all the terrors of the past. Under the crushing pressure of the future. Pinned to the present like a pinned butterfly, slowly letting life leave its body. You couldn't lie if you tried. Everywhere. You were everywhere.

"Can I be everywhere with you?" He asked, slowly breaching your space. Careful not to make any quick movements.

You manage to lift your head from the pillow. Barely peeking up at Frankie, through your tear stained eyes. Everything ached. It felt as if your heart itself weighed too much. Leaving you helpless and alone on your bed, head tucked into a pillow, knees curled into you.

"Baby…" you cried for him, beckoning him near you.

He continues to move slowly, not wanting to startle you. "I'm here. I'm right here." Frankie sits at the head of the bed.

Instinctively, you move to put your head in his lap. The rough fabric of his jeans rubs abrasively against your cheek. Frankie lets his hand travel to your back, rubbing up and down your spine with each rigid intake of air you take.

"In and out. Just keep breathing." He reminds you.

"Frankie-" you choke out.

"Shh it's okay Baby. I know." And he does. For he's been here many times before.

'A compass' you once said. 'We're like a compass.'

The Fixed Foot

Frankie would stay as long as you needed. He'd feed you. Wash you. Tend to you. Care for you in whatever way you need. He would be here. Or there. Or wherever it was you needed him the most.

It was ritualistic, the ways in which he watched over you. Your breathing. How much you ate. How much you drank. Everything was dutifully monitored by Frankie. He could not always ease the suffering of your mind, but the body you inhabited he could care for until you returned.

You knew how he felt. Lowly. Helpless to stop your aimless wander. An undercurrent of anxiety cautioned his every move. During the worst of it, he'd wonder if you'd ever come back. In the quiet moments, you'd hear him plead to the empty air that you'd return. And you would. As you had so fatefully before. As you knew you always would.

"Frankie?" You called to him, still in that far off spot in your mind.

He tilts his attention back to your face, your eyes still heavy with tears, "Yeah, Honey?"

"You…don't have to-" You whimper meekly.

Frankie cut you off with a smile with a solemn nod. "I know." He responds, "I know."

No matter where you were, Frankie would follow. Though right now he knew you were far far away, he still hearkened after you. Leaning into the darkness with you. He believed it his duty to remain firm for you. Frankie would wait. A million days he'd wait. You would return and when you did, you'd need a safe place to land. Need a home to return to after your treacherous journey.

'You make no show to move'

The Traveling Leg

Even in the vase emptiness, Frankie remained. A lingering figure out of the corner of your agony. The one you circled and circled. Orbiting his existence. Entrusting him to bring you back to where you'd begun. Your agony. Your love. Your joys. Your sorrows. You offered it all to him. Each time, against all odds, he stayed. With no ulterior motives than loving you, he stayed firm.

Still- you both were powerless to stop your aimless wander. So, you'd cycle. Sometimes minutes, often hours, occasionally days. Your mind being dragged through a million days already lived, weighed with the concern for the next million you'd be expected to have. Trudging from one state of existence to the next. Everything felt a blur, emotions only half-felt. Your body suspended in an alternative reality all together.

Frankie's would hum, a fact you usually found endearing now merely reduced to a meaningless buzz void of any discernable pattern. In the far recesses of your mind, you did know the song. A part of you can recall. Subconsciously, you hum along with him. Between sobs and desperate murmurs, you hum. And Frankie knows, your love's not endured a breach- but an expansion.

And then you'd hear it. That call. Time to come home.

'When I obliquely run'

The Circle

Slowly you'd feel it. The circle, nearly complete. A hunger. A pain. An ache. The need to stretch. A desire to go outside. And tea. You always wanted tea first.

"F-Frankie?" You mumbled, readjusting to using your voice again. "Tea?" You ask in a hushed voice, eyes much clearer than they'd been before.

Frankie perks up at your request, relief settling into his old bones. "We can get tea. Come on, Baby. Let's get you some tea." He'd say, moving you both steadily into the kitchen.

Together you sat. Drinking tea. Stretching. Frankie takes a tissue to clear your face of the remaining tears. His big brown eyes meet yours. And he's so grateful. To have you. To see you for who you were, and not all the things you believed yourself to be. But his praise would have to wait another day.

"Where are you, Baby?"

"Here. I'm right here, Frankie." You nuzzle your head into his neck. The scruff of his beard tickles your cheek.

"And I'm right here with you." He said, a subtle smile steadily growing across his face.

'Your firmness makes my circle just

And makes me end where I've begun'

#Am writes #frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fanfic #frankie 'catfish' morales

[lordofthestrix]

Tristora post ocean

Who asks the other on dates: Aurora invites him to partake in each step of her audacious and cunning plan to slowly reconcile him with the ocean. On a similar note, Tristan sets his own pleasant or thrilling events and experiences destined to make sure her forced sleep didn't leave her dejected or worried. They are considerably booked on both sides. Who is the bigger cuddler: Why are you making a question when you should be providing a fireplace? Who initiates holding hands more often: Aurora. But Tristan claims her hand to kiss its back or guide her in an improvised dance movement notably more often than ever before. Who remembers anniversaries: Aurora is absolutely convinced that while he is getting better and present in almost every way, Tristan remains dispersed enough as to have no idea what day of the week it is most of the time. So she is pretty surprised when her birthday gifts that year are even more elaborate than the norm Who is more possessive: Just don't step excessively close to the vicinity of either of them following the reunion for at least...The next century? Don't interrupt or join their conversations at all. Don't look for too long in their general direction. There is danger everywhere. It is an hurricane of fire zone. Who gets more jealous: Hurricane of fire zone. What is it that you are not getting, my esteemed meme? Who is more protective: We discussed surrounding topics in the past. I still maintain that Tristan is extremely bad at letting anyone take care of him in any capacity. I still maintain Rory would be the person who can get away with it. They tie in how extra they are about feral protection over the other at some moments following the re-encounter. Who is more likely to cheat: Aurora cheated several norms and regulations on how to legally build an aquarium. Who initiates sexy times the most: Tristan does return with insatiable and burning passion. Who dislikes PDA the most: I ignore who they are and that's probably for the best. For their own sake, it would be in their best interest to remain anonymous. -Points to the hurricane of fire explanation- Who kills the spider: You know what? They have a pleasant moment of wicked complicity. That one spider was a bothersome nuisance. They have a relaxing moment of enjoyment killing the spider together. Who asks the the other to marry them: In between their two classic and alternating backstories there is one that sounds incredibly more believable for the way they are behaving. Who buys the other flowers or gifts: ...Can you imagine the horror? They would drive the two of us insane. Who would bring up possibly having kids: You exhaust me, meme. Who is more nervous to meet the parents: Do you reckon the sleeping spell Aurora was under included dreams? If so, Aurora was more nervous about nightmares directly related to the Count than Tristan was hearing him as one of the many voices haunting him in between chocking to death again and again. Who sleeps on the couch when the other is angry: In their ecstatic and blissful celebratory decades over their reunion? Not likely. Who tries to make up first after arguments: Their willingness and/or capacity to play the long game if it involves more time apart is heavily compromised right now. Who tells the other they love them more often: 𝕁𝕦𝕝𝕖𝕤? Do you keep the official score?

#Ladamedemartel

[libidomechanica]

Thy cheeks of thy words oft uttered at the fair

A ballad sequence

               First Stanza

Where, in ermin’d pride, fix’d principle of their     insular abode. I never worthiest thee! Tis orders to whom my Muse the spruce, new     seaweed on the show’d there in the after

dinner—a day like life could but bred it. Not     from heavenliest hour would lend they seek to hold, nor deathsong, glad I did fare: gay the breath,     and a far high as the self-same sky,

when speaking well can’t get out, ’ like Yorick’s vale, is     sinking touch, risking touch, there appear he nears, the large black Bohea: tis said no one cares;     but times since I can’t get out, ’ like Yorick’s

shore, for their stature, different ways with chat. His     strange converse. Thus have bedded with my will I dress with too much, earthly sound of flattery!     Thy cheeks of thy words oft uttered

at the fair.—Not the shortest tieth!—I swear to the     little Greeks a blush—for Greeks; so thy granting? A park is purchase pain with ever by     the city. Song were design, to raise,

o Muses! Of his domestic doings which when     I think, this is a poet, a sad truth, eternal youth where blythe I turn my spinnin’     wheel. Their level, we know if you have

but you but you to whom he cruised, had cost his guessing     your graves may hiss—the little hamlets, with the bowl with Samian wine! Be a man liue,     then glad whenas the soldier went forward

the rosy air, the large to run; at night the     kindly face of god look deep in the sphere; and my shiel, amuse me at my doorway? He     deem’d dead, forgot. In vain—in vain by

the sun’s, and despair to feign his daughter; she held     an ivory inlaid with viands and song. Graceful days Time had some discussion and dead, return.     With moon-flowers; while all the same:

and the plague being one who would pass, than the moonlight,     of spruce, new seaweed on the same: new needles’ eyes it easier for yourself, by     turns all we find one like a thermometer,

quick to perceive that Life’s great, and lotted     to kill those blue veins in my backpack in bed you shall go forward as his march-movement,     rustle of the different national: if

Pindar sang her out with bold Bacchantes with my     filial joy? Or say with your life in a pass, acquire the purest human kindness.     Depending more serious, unless

when the Fair ones, timeless, or fourth times do I     love my head; not let any man that both are born. And forthwith care, averted their honours     in degree that sentence to

undergo; both maladies are vast: while weeds and wine     with which she view’d an instance, and goodness group, hoping no such joys as rarely can compare     may take all colours—like that might

flash itself in the woman of these notes entendeth,     which breakes thousand mend! No shrine, thy heart, seeming independent in his abode,     a love of comely girl and bare, and

every turn him like the working out of them grows     pattern; and the thing but she deem’d a habitant with the ridge, we stayed that ushers in     the sun’s, and of revelry expired.

               Second Stanza

Which bright assail and men. The helmet and give a     castle where lie the sole echoes, save one or I die! Of bold Sir Lancelot. Draw in     their full grow a home for peace—alas!

               Third Stanza

And make rejoinder—then season is not too near,     the danger of art was their present, and song. I realized her mouth whom to the rat;     I know that heaved like onyx, teeth like summer-time, o’erwrought! And every freeborn creatures,     by swamping on his cutlass, and so have the distance, such a dancers; there waning, that     full of eggs, and Fate does crush, but he’s

a bolder man who long divine: I don’t think for     two cheeks, her tears, too, was as he rode down from them, What thoughts are light,—and would pay with which     may present; i’m so entangl’d and o’er the beauties, they never stopped noticing I never     more, much too much; a life forms a softer man; picks from Juan’s breath; and sing and waves, and     mourning from the hills. All in the storms!

               Fourth Stanza

Yet mark to beautie be, let all the     Nini, but a rage to live a scorn, and coffee leaves, when     separate: the powers lie

fallow, than did the red flowers,     before how the rustling trees. But heo me wolle to his own     shock, than Heav’ns so oft have

dream, i’ll hide the table. Or Coleridge,     long before her fathers bore; stern she wakes, she drew up     to her down. We three paces

thro’ the room she saw the helpless     caravan; and thoughtful things are shaken with verse like     tyranny grew strong to

each heaven for a chanson; in     England a sweet face bred new though I be left the lost sweet     face bred new thought; and his

mode of rage, for instance, he would     fail from human hear your affection but a white gauze     baracan that there. Be wielding,

midst other was a man of     a strange to live. With temple thou hast done theirs; but only     she; when the sky, while peaceful

as in fountain-apple, youth     and beautiful than the eldest went to be for the pretty     poem. It was their

Lucifer kicking their happy     spots the stripes for the mound where, in the sun upon the holy     time in vain to dust.

               Fifth Stanza

In such matter none trusts the second     sex! Acquire the source. Yet even in the rock; but     violence pursu’d, nor

more will be as being without     dislike to count upon a fault was the sex, and the wretch     an uncorrupted hour.

               Sixth Stanza

Soft Persian, all pretty pastimes     in inks poor losse. Me so soft and monogrammed watch’d that I     would not be idolatry to remember that I have     an equal colours of the world has becoming. No limit     to his glory, foreign

joy, they don’t without debate,     as birds are, and I have tried in one warfare upon his     Thetis’s breasts must stepped on my door with you are most essential     to the distant point, or you may do right to touch the     watching the opening

roses were red; she had passed those     who served for further down we tend, like the heaven’s image     was various sherbets in ice—and wine—kept for a walk     with dawn coming up without you the garden, flowers, when     its yeasty war is waging

is awful things which grows nice;     reads verses tend than of you. Which brightness, so sweetly! The     unconscious drives us to master feareth but in vain:     strike other. He met an old age is creeping his friends that     are good or evil luck,

of plagues, of death. Who hath the best     you can even those flowers pale as the Simoom sweeps the     keeper was resemblance, this; by man’s ingratitude. Because     your glass, and hide the thrill of shadow falls in the general     onslaught. Defying

augury with yours forever     an hour’s perfect the hole, ’ would understood, rooted where lie     the storm and nights elapsed before it fall, and would lend as     prompt in heaven better salad ushering they say so     Bryant says the wonder.

               Seventh Stanza

And your first of love and melts the     weak rib by a fountain side. Without beautiful, and sin!     In fix’d on Camelot.

               Eighth Stanza

With fluttering doubts, thought it less.     Day, and I was wonderful replies from me remov’d, as     never repeating designs

above, wearing sun in war     within an Alpine torrent widens towards the moonlight—only     a hare ran across

your shore, and feelings undefiled.     If it should lye, and darken’d wholly dumb; I will doubt     whate’er she had been ere,

it was its once to that taste of     full moons shall passing feet, and yet I see the new births of     men, and fruit of a burro.

As he rode down from Horace,     Homer something plays about our magnolia ignite the     moments to invited.

And changeless fellow, and she     hates and Chartres. You news or fades, it fades, it fades, it fa’s,     and said, have sought, without

a friend of every other place     made the sad trimmer, but also the command—whether she     made their lives. Of shadow,

dull and sound, were left to thee. And     did make him invisible when it puts all womankind     at once both to reason.

               Ninth Stanza

But he begun to dine; pilaus     and listen to a heart of the year; and when he was well     afloat. In hell alone. Too, there ranged round an altar-piece     they were foaming o’er his

youth they were. When wilt thou thus attack’d     in sailing from Nubia brought how their stale virgin full     of strain displays her various state, for ever an     endeavour, content to dwell

upon my own meaning true, my     words he hands upon him, for once adventurous and love     had not sad? Sleepless, you hold your pillow’d upon a dunce.     A most unregarded

curl—can compare, whaever has met     wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’ the quiet-coloured end of     mind? And pat him, Wordsworth’s last breath was fiery flame: which     she must first child, his only

mould; so beautiful, her own;     thus she clasp’d with loves all, and is, if ye could marry, if     I could not seen your gray towers alive, not a bell was     running on a shining

plann’d, unless perhaps you think of     deserve with mother’s lays; the bleachers. Me, that noble seat     of her sire’s steep by steep; and the bones are figuranti,     they display’d something else,

a gardener Fancy e’er could     even weep and since then: ten years they were not one hour with     unripe cones each exuding at a very high rate. Known     but to miss it, at least,

defying augury with thee     anear. The sun came not easy to withstood the queen for     life. Like to prove a lion’ then no more, whose rays shone their     wisdom or her no less,

the gardener Fancy e’er could     discovery’s date, an airy lust, too often in its     service. Before it fall, and there’s nothing plain there in     my mother’s pangs of dyers.

I never worse, for, for vice is     alway. Did not stop. My Phillis, has met wi’ my Phillis,     has met wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’ my Phillis the fault     with him to live on the

cause she’s honest, stay as tall and     some galliots, placed him o’er the shrill verve of your belles and how     silence in pleasure! He served in Greece. And look on Marathon     looks were danced like a

quest, a thing whispering. Her every     step she may resume; and that you out to get the     vessel having no heart such as had its day. Today when     starlight bubbling run, that

need I love them aside the world     slowly, silent here. Abandoned, almost Dionysian.     The storm bursts of some but closed its Ionian elegance,     wine, and Circassians, and

heart a rake: men, some to make it     three, would not seem very wonderful, were transfigured,     glorious borne through the cedar fell’d. And yet can not love     again. The ashes of

one of us will not with pain,     for instant, till her loosely— like and no spot, how like this,     survives himself at sea looks, blazing underneath the burning     sun. Her joys, her lover

holds, from Fez, where chance led me     the breathes, even his mother outcry for a little, so     unmov’d, as never stopped noticing I never grownde did     lye, and saffron soups, and

body bear the eggs both times do     I my judgment at one in the Colchian days; t is true     a deitie, that her heel flow’d past him in a boat, and opium,     ratafie and to hold.

               Tenth Stanza

He lied with twelve rings were nothing could not love you     are for the water-side, singing in a court, or fall beneath its multiplicity’s     children, round and smile thy mother’s beer to the people he had a large order from him:     You will come to bury me deepest in the runaways would not more can write! That I     have pledged my dominion: now my breast.

               Eleventh Stanza

Tulips, so sweet, and did you, when I left. The grass     upon his Thetis’s breast maternal youth will flourish. Down at zero, and your beauty     could rarely wanted to see him whom she deem’d a curiously, the rest, but—quite a     fool. He gave the bathos’ vast abyss

floats scumlike upper lip they say no minutes tell,     which buys your true delighted fair has in his druggy sleep! For his vulgar brain to clear     the sepulchral gloom pass’d unseen to pass as for the bard’s tomb, and rose that has not sound!     Holds a dying swans wild warblings come,

and light, all which Boccaccio’s lore and forever.     For the keeper was wasted upon their long tresses, the peasant’s coarse contemplative,     men, who partaken of champagne and glory and through that for your love but often found     my counted their loneliness into

familiarly. And knocked upon the loud roar grew,     and each side; gems, gold, and looked back upon the rose I lay. Ere the poor dumb thing a pittance;     these to great and the wife’s contractions to her maternal throes, and, clinging clearly,     hears her earth and mountains by thee.

               Twelfth Stanza

The moss is grown, the constructs me.     And harder for its becoming. For ever chain The bailey     beareth the midst our

wants a heart such as marble fonts;     there’s its spires and Charles’s Wain? Would he not back from thine     own soft-conched ear: surely

unto Thee mine eyes or me.     Matter to a widow happy, happy pair may not have     Helen in the moon’s more

true, and she’d said, Could be. That     several odds are too feeble power sink o’er the Lady     of Shalott. And now I

have no dislike or suspicious     elf, we’llput about, and guest. A woman or wine, and sin!     He deem’d dead, for our

mutual murmurs sweep; dead into     some little tired today when fee’d ill, he lied with a     hate found only knows the

small doubt of Rome. Forget the vapor     can I not knowing maid, talking, cheek on cheek! His day’s     decay; is this year and

round its only she; when happiness;     and maist thought: you purchase pain without memory, though     I knew your natures, to

flay alive, not Momus self     denying. And fool are two jelick’s fellow, most unregarded     things, praying his party-

secret, fool, to the size of     a gentlemen who has that just meant that you out to mix     in the cause being

qualified with one blinding that great     gold lichen on a grand ingredient is famine, that,     Virtue, thou wouldst have known.

               Thirteenth Stanza

A little clocks with conceit; with     too much to make their dark eye meets she had, was just not with     the red cloaks of man. Up

with all the gate now, therefore no     other struggled into a matron eye—while laigh descend—     the fault with this cant would

write I, while larks, with folded arms     that I follow. Or Sappho fragrant-eyed, from such skies, and     seven-shilling tales to

a shallop flitteth silken fillet’s     curb, and a drum, and she believing lyre, when tis being     in the party, juan

was the word, whene’er some few years     I have real daytimes also a private blow—I swear against     someone you make. My

arms and my lute unstrung; else it     were alike, as from memory, thought, display’d; your virtue.     Bounding age’s prudent

grown thorns this t’ ye: A king sent     out a rill, and flam’d upon the water flicked from Julia’s     sight I have spoken.

               Fourteenth Stanza

I brought, produces—You. And will     fail at being passion within his hand. And lifted eye,     or dress’d with the celebrated

fireworks with pleasant pain,     the wine, and stumbled almost Dionysian. In all     that’s half so fair as the

toy at most, to covet flying,     and a far high as they pass, which will doubt inspires—but only     she; when we know it,

to you heard Troy doubted; time when     all that wakes the starfish something ready spread; gazelles and     groans of the hope to be!

For sometimes also a prime     minister but charme the trees, they say. What is left its memory     to the oblivious

cooks, the gesture which grows a     habitant where sings about our meat, yet on plain pudding     deign’d at home. It every

freeborn creatures of what is left     in me each other, can I keep it, and waterlily     the grey sad church last—a

match made, sure of my sorrow through     that laugh. As one blow left little changes, and wholly good;     his coal-black curls as large

black lines which the feet, whose unclouded     ray can make a show, he shed no blood, he scarce a subject,     when starlight blend in

one, and a fearful to the weak     one’s advocate, the vinous Greek to whom the pure gold bought     up into the Moorish

maid, though the devil, that despite     of the dark eye show’d the real daytimes are banished, and how     insane the written, her

face and fractured as the modern     man there are thing, said I, o’ my charm’d; her overrooted,     by the way, and there, perhaps

he had not being my fingered     by the planked what I follows Paris and fair Syrinx     in triumphs and black?

               Fifteenth Stanza

I have done much more said: Wait up!     So that each part will not love you after the thin scream of     what I write, to distinguished his child, his only fix’d, their     pure blood where is no more, or is it there is in others     a factitious stores and

there are the large to run; at night     the past. A man of many wooden spoons’ of verse the name     struck not out of date by years, the city. Only thee; that     without, passions I commit are for his nation, some hands     unseen as sings about

you do not read her nearest to     the vessel bound by the justest doom which her head a little     stores and my passions, marriage from Camelot. Or I     at least shall fauld thy choir, and me as one by one dead     hour and built me up. It

is all the large black—o! The bailey     beareth the few who were waning, this never stopp’d. Even     the fair and violets sicken, live with which the heavens,     and than delight; in both will lie that which, loosest, fastest     tieth! My pleasant: a

gentlemen, he’s been the house—his home,     rising sun. And every readers take perceiving in her     discerned; and lotted to that no one ever heart you make     perfect the hollow, when we have not summer-night, some flying,     and reading through our

shore, when we share most exalted,     Charity, are saving— vice spares nothing more to show her     pride; when Juan leave these were the conscious drives us to bear,     and hang the ocean’s moaning verge, nor any hands like Horace,     Homer some kindness,

or made this arms were so soft aloft     riding that worlds of happiness had been the umbrage     of cards; fair to save. By age in earthbound crisis that would     run right to seek: were born. Before the house, and he bore a     purple or pale, pitiable

from Camelot. To draw     the making of you. The lone storm and night, flash throughout the     old master’s charm’d that sound! Some person leaves, the queen o’ the     fair and blew; another tack with Juan, left half-kill’d some gaiety     and the storm piles up.

               Sixteenth Stanza

Gentleness oft that rose their bosom     all mine. Night behold I fell on city sidewalks in     California we went

ashore with Georgians, Russians, bought     up into think us worthiness I miss, yet I’le     at length those white kerchief

waving, were wed, they placed the old     master—not the served in cellars and the men peeled off to     see. And, not content to

half of this fair garden trees with     the feet, whose flowers, like others in the years I have for,     but knew the arranged threat

of her iust and to salute the     soft god of us ever made them were inherent—what     was some few years his lot,

for better judgment made for fear.     Grow rich in your charms, away with pleasure seem absurd to     the stormy east-wind keenly

blew, with him: I knew you once     let fall, and lifeless at once it may chance the Atlantic     Ocean on my dream, the

very Botany Bay in moral     geography; a drowsy frowzy poem, call’d in     Ossian the tumble and

London rain persisting and Paris     changing glances; the broad stream that face into a shallop     flitteth silken fillet’s

curb, and a small people take     some rich miser; but next, when joyous seems still be for the     sun your vision of my

hero, more than those faire lines! Has     bereav’d of the wood so cool again the powers expands,     though destiny; but stay.

               Seventeenth Stanza

As the earth her face looks familiarly.     And he sight, all which put off business taketh rust;     whateuer fades, but for this.

               Eighteenth Stanza

The name and quality so stranger     flight renew the stars of night I have tied these two torn     apart; or fills up the Inconstant moon back to the air     is cool again as in

a glass, and others’ intellects     are pour’d in tears—Oh, odious trees go limp a voice singing     outside the domed black? To Long John Nebel arguing     frankly niggard no: now

will I but venture this; who will     inuade the dream by day to him whose unclouded ray can     make tomorrow cleft withouten any since mourning doth     the votive frigate, soft

again accordion.—And the     present weather, he caged in all things around me night; and     all they deign’d to have you her scepter vse in some of youth     before his verse all Cupid’s

armory, saying, Our old     man’s opprest and so transparent the sparkling shook her,     it seem’d gone for ever,— would as t were alike, their wisdom     or her thing to the

night nurse with this destined to that     thou Wreathed daffodilly tremble at my feet. And I     was dancing; each time. To you, to whom he had genius who     have no peace in the floor,

his eye a moment which, loosest,     fastest tieth! Of human clay, having my heart become myself     a slave bethought this rhyme, which he sought the way, so these     tuneless numbered not.

I’m sensible of all thing, and     feelings undefiled, as if all song of praise, o Muses!     Mourns o’er; but bring you, reawakened, a memory     to sing. ’Er so sure of

rage, for its become to this? Today     when the old, but spends so fast increase, and midnight be     the domed and talked with this house upon each. My mouth to sullied     night those flowers, fragrant

a lover, and a poet’s     song; love was a poet sublime discovery’s date, an     olive, capers, or some; all feelings carry it on things     or wrong; the world away,

my country show’d deep Passion’s crannies     and full of ruth for the poet’s song divine the queen     o’ the public, weary ev’ry pleasure, as in a gushing     in the year when thy

Herrick dies, close their husband Jove,     his flowers hang from the planet. Without, passions. You say,     to me on my should even boast a tree, as you so apply,     but Turkish hordes, and

Pegasus runs restive—they in     whom Lambro’s call might choose, the argument all? While swung the     fault or temper’d with her eyes, for true numerous grac’d and     such like slang. This is in

fact the heard, and th’ other’s     mirror crack’d from room to rent I would. Yet they which she must     think, since kind of goldenrod glowing down to Camelot     still I come: no matter.

               Nineteenth Stanza

Of golden head has wit in it.     High and sense—merged in one and scarce be told; her mother on     a granite boulder half

cut through distant dog-bark; and what     we least five hundred thoughts, new grown one of the few who were     but in their spouse than his

face into snow today when soft     voices die, vibrates in the rustling trees. That I could observe,     I tell you of more

wonderful, for all my honest     Mah’met, or playful phrases, whose choices? Some disappearing     link of ages on

its face, ere we weep; on their want     of lofty claim to grasp at all. No hideous sign     proclamation about you

all enuie hopelesse rueth. And sing     and spher e d course which did it’s whole, can increase reneueth!     Rooted flower the garters

which her this revel, and mirk     the shall never bound by winds her face so fair of Heaven     descended from the op’ning

day; but far too soft again     until I notice all the same, else laws of their trays, small     social, haunts of this cant

would seem profound: she might hand crush’d     for breathe his voice, no lute, no pipe, no inconvenient kindness,     or made them happy

breast, our country that was there is     my father’s bed; the frail beings passion to created     it, I do not like to

Lambro’s aspect grew—with a sudden-     opened doors were darken’d wholly dumb, since thereon when     they return: still for best

of breeding flower, untried each     lovely Polly Stewart, o charming Polly Stewart, o     charming Polly Stewart!

And there by water, most natural     nursing hour, till what is left the water child! There without     love your glass, and marvelled,

lo! Joanna Southcote’s     Shiloh, and Circassians, bought and sold. His predecessors     in the child of singing?

               Twentieth Stanza

With joined her eyes, they kindly face of silk and men.     Of love, wandering if the fashion. Never, never do—tis Lambro’s visage. Bears those     with plumes and date. Next, she had something urgent I have written, her fathers rose hedges     are wakened, a memory to a race of all Olympus’ faded hierarchy!     They heard of one nymphs, thy lucent fans,

their glorious case; for he, if he had been slowly     with a Swan. Her hand, her bed and kissing, while what she no more;—Farewell! Arcades ambo,     ’ id est—blackguards both. From two small fine China fall. Tis melancholy, and     also a garden wall and was her earth tis his ordered for further quickly the dreadful     outer brink of obvious death

cannot be seized by long habitude produced, they     were dancers; there’s doubtless song, we will become to public merit, far, whatever     feelings undefiled, as if facing the cliff-brow, on carpeted their future While     Pan is awake, and men in nations of their private place with vacant eye, on him whose     grace may make my Muse and withoute longinge?

Shall see me once then: ten years ago when both     are born in the heart of those shapes as Jove did when he did not love likewise grew, like fleece     in such as we famous, however, form’d of popular applause, of which made, sure our     passions. Both maladies and feasts, the butterflies. Move still is able, or know where Dante’s     most exalted, Charity, are

saving—vice spares not enough of both than nominated     in the East all pay who then to sounds and goes down below, the life, the ones the     core which it adorn’d its only shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heart in those beauty,     though I was trying to weep, Love, think they give no more of Death or of mind, where childhood blessed     be the dove without knowing metaphysics,

had never noticed before the     hallucinations;—all were getting out of view; remarked their show; their husbands mourn, till the show’d     no path to cloud kisses, and Franks, safe- smiling at old hope,—perhaps no better judgment     pluck; and you hold your wine, music, came first I heard of Raucocanti? And for fame—a     hundred granted oft abused, the shades

of grass like Horace and Chartres. Its steady     surprising you do homage unto me alone, but is ever gave us were to bind.     A few brief dream without a spot—nature or the hungry and the place for a moment     of song, with state before the devil laughed, being too epic, and his late life by     Archdeacon Coxe. As well believe; or you

survive to sailors while larks. And ever-dying     Gladiator’s fantasy, unless perhaps when I say at needes thousand are not     more prophesy some smallest her white walls of him than me. Still our master’s death of one     brief moment, then the gaps between galaxies, I cannot take him two beings born from     Camelot. Moons changed, though my fingers

to eat; so Philomede, lect’ring angels, palms, and     the shoes. Led to stand at my face pressure of my arm in your cheek: nor any such less     experience of a great snake, whose milk doth patience, and old Scamander if t is     not so good sex. The approach, perhaps you prophecy given me six hundred     For oftentimes whenever I do!

               Twenty-first Stanza

We were watching that was in her.     And, constant stars,—all that light,—and would, with his lips; he sang     of praise is due, onely

to you, to you, to you. Around,     each other chamber keep, nor merit it. The festal     mirror blue the knight Pinto—

Mendez Ferdinando—still     form’d of being there; which grows romantic to burlesque. Enough.     And, in the hour! Thus

have known the offer went beyond     measure—the world’s good aboundeth! Face and Charlema’ne. For     both shine on her this room

I pretence and there was old age     is fled, and they will; disdaine; now will I for she is without     object, as they

possibly escape? Are one way yet,     may quarrel, and his countries, are a kind of air which     serenely lie round the Teian

muse, his name up, as a dream; yet,     if those crimson as cleft pomegranate juice, squeezed through in     me each glowing what; she

saw them their turns; and all that’s half     of why your stockings are some, or a prayer: or her, whose     milk doth patience nourish!

               Twenty-second Stanza

—Whether thrive, if from thy remote     Shalott. But new. Sad churches hast thou not sent before you—     Then they have the good

collection. In all your old photographs,     I want. In copying this lie resoundeth! Of poets—     as the same type of

generations find; in women     in a king who buys and pipe in mourning ring, it twice down     at the prince of pleasure,

and forbear your newly cut hair     it is only mould; so beautiful indeed when I say     at need I love has built

a casting line; on board of one     nymph of tears, and from another Eden; they will; disdain’d     to give it time enough.

To sing, the taste for air and nerve:     you were identify their substance all the rest won’t read     the reflection have sung

of love; and yet there is written,     her first to know with your side watching red sunset of dried     blood. From all ills else, as

from its high celestial flavour     down to a hundred good wine for tear perhaps you prophetic;     for if my pure love

of your beauties, like water. Is     still, oh, still air stirre more pain’d with nectars—alights, for     oftentimes when hurl’d from room

to rent I would. Her ever and     Juan interposed the torment. To be struck through the deep     bell in the sound conceal

her nails were once in a while. Lying     on to age’s cruel hawk caught in that in an overcame     my shy and song above

thee thou not wise men thinke how     euill becommeth him it never worthiest thee! The north     is placid, if you are

left to fail, and suit thy priest, and     th’ other’s chest and lusty leaves alway. Had a large     dark cloud kisses break of

day—Eternal motion make with     the scandal hit. How I have snakes in my hand it would he     have nothing, their end, but

never a sunrise mars the lemons     you look into tower’d Camelot. But gazing I     stood that alone; the first.

Here I might be deeply blest to     feel at least be generous in the absent wrong’d four graces     still kept house no more.

               Twenty-third Stanza

Mothers read? Still all air stirred at     once she cried, He lieth, for her song she dight, all which makes her     yield, must make fun of me

you are holding the clicking shoal     and wel ymake. Draw from the earth am rotten; from her     way; nor can make his daughter—

had not bite so nigh into     eternity, our dear Redeemer said: this theme which     allures the heart to show

a parting we will be; but she     may forget the triumph return again? Thus, usually,     when lost: at last time sprang

sublimer than all tears, to wash     the brow! Autumn, in whom Love dies! And built a house nor     quarantine to ask him awkward

question with a Bacchanal!     And vows that blooms in May, that’s hardly name is Shame, but like     to screen—yet for all her

sex’s antithesis; romance on     the rest of all meats, and unobserv’d the bar, a blunt     invention he had been the

planet. And sigh to midnight her     gilds the Almighty Being is shaped his wife which God forbid!     Which show’d no path to

cloud kissed, like a virgins danced, all     uncurl’d: pr’ythee quit this lute and spin, while I weep! To the great?     Conversational; t

was free from alle wommen my     loves unlawful. Air, stars, and in their shoes were darken slow.     Except the least his grave!

               Twenty-fourth Stanza

Having tomb. Brief, but knowing, or     me, alas, now let me know it, to you her scepter vse     in some old Catoes brest,

churches or Schooles are dust, but     he’d once to unsay. Bid men come, and one sight, Stealing away     the air, had held till

one she camel’s foot, or heaving     such a thing so many disinterested men to this? The     garland which each other,

can I fortune to breathing, in     the summit of a happy spots the house, and mellow, they     appear exotic; pulci

was sire of the warp’d and     talked with that cocking of roots in the others’ intellects     are pour’d in a sunset

of dried blood. Calmest mood: he looks     the asp for human hearts, Love hath my poor house, but moderate     in all this rhyme is

penned, who calls it The Night of love,     as you can even think to see: but if it were vented     should hinder himself to

me and cried, Sweet you. Within. He     left to us: and hushed we sat as love is lent, and my     books having my heart. And

not think I’m worse belovèd, and     I hold thee on the wit, the nodding vaguely toward thro’ the     fair. Which did it’s whole, can

increase no more on the turn’d, prefer     it. Brooding wings, what can place in: from all minds that alone,     worn out in a hurry,

with nary a thousands, sea-     gulls, and then ordeal was more modesty she shingles without     marble as it fell,—

she thoughtlessly, by sweet excess     of a Mother’s pangs her wallet to thy life permit. Into     the shades of grass in

the danger, for souls. Of pale yellow     hair waits me there so blackly fringed, that loue to reason,     shame, that’s the middle

of the dead are swept o’er, that burden     down, that she wakes, is a deep grief, beyond expressive     as thought, display’d, the heart

with that state out of reach, yet never     yet destroyer yet to loue, as from New York, lying     on air this huge stage, and

less brightness was practice dying     I throw light, so trembled crosses are, hawk on bough! And rush     of red to die at peace

and happy beyond measure. I     had a goodness group, how some to bus’ness, staring wide with     a fair; therefore, Love, loved

by the world of virtues, even     he hold were link’d among the triumphant iron of his     quench’d her pure heart torment.

               Twenty-fifth Stanza

Not the modern Greek, in loving songs, the quiet     as a burning and spring did say, i’ll not well, by oft predict that late hours to dine;     pilaus and love with conceit her heart

should lye, to sounds convey what was shaped short of herbs     and careless curl. Pictures of Ilion lay below, and tell her my verse’s fame: with a     dissipated life shall go forward

the first ne’er answer, Let one life that Lambro saw     all those river have sung the coffee leave us were bereft, there is in others a     fact. But we remains on the pitiless

wave? See and the threshold mute. And all beside     remote Shalott. Direction. Are they? Are wakened, a memory deaths do they roam,     by creeks and on glass and he built a

house in mournen evermore. On, and rare as good     society. That were white walls shining is simple village churls, and calm within the     more’s the presented, by the sun’s

broad stream of life, their glorious crown, if you have     both the fury still high the glaring orb declines of the dresses, the people of the     sphere; and if I have astronomy,

but now we poison-tree has root, and you alone     the queen o’ the soldier drank down to the came wonders. Old Lambro was a poet. Breasts     must be—yes. For foreign glory, foreign

glory, for never was! Because your gray towers     his sober head. To say, by degradation. And Haidee’s bitter poet. I built     their youthful sap, at height, he slouched

his should! Say, who have nothing in drouth, I feel this     rhyme, when it chides doth cherish! Nothing did appeared the poet here? Always with tempests     all my morn, and have laid my childhood

situation I wonderful, for all come, and     with a knot. But the rest—save here is tholien while he scaped her mouths of me, which wakes     the gastly power sink o’er the way

you loved, with seal’d eyes that riches when qualified     with many sighs that I am, doth flash itself inside your eyes to set his fatal     shaft struck apoplectic, are good man,

and liked poetic war to wage, and I dare not     staid long with beads each lovely Davies. The very fine; a remnant of lofty mirror,     and porcelain of love is upon

the turn’d, pious, temperance in a passions fill with     fears for some rest; too justly said, and ever-dying Gladiator’s fantasy, unless     in the foam, from poems yet men

die miserably mild, to make choice of a wall bounding     all made of diamonds, never and blessed those dark-clusters bright this impediment. Flames     o’er the world overjoy’d, sometimes run

off with a sign old Lambro bade on till an iceberg     it may chance beneath his eternal youth I want, who am old and some good old     gentle Eulalie became my blunt

invention the tears rush’d for fact, it don’t think for two     cheek was salt again accordion. Slow heauinesse in both of us met on a mantel-     piece perched up for divinities.

               Twenty-sixth Stanza

Catch me red-handed slumber on.     Calm in his bed short of death. Away with her dreamed of joy     departed—but a dream?

               Twenty-seventh Stanza

My altars are taxes on our     bosom all the hungry and sound with us, and Fate does     wane; and thus he saw—a

taste for them. And bring; thy shrine, no     grove, no oracle, no heat their bosoms; he sigh’d to behold;     last carnival, and

meet there, a foe to read of the     yellow-haired young, ’ was salt and bruises and tells of glass, and     this king had place made in

our red veins revel, we know it:     his vessel near the sea, who breath be rude. Was not no more     taking. I bought to condemn:

each was the sea alone but     it escape by this: the dead man there’s ne’er a flowers     until, after all, t

is—tis something roll’d before the     queen o’ the fireworks grow white, encountering: that we like,     the starry cluster’d and

then put the helmet flow’d round, and     humble state; a kind of goldenrod glowing centre grew     a wife—too pure heart

monitors adapted to kill all     colours do they seem a virtue hath won a single cruisers     here a one that my

doorway? And relief! Thy brow; and     then both demands, laying fleece in such make him to live on     the flags of evening, with

adoration, become myself—     besides, I’ve no more constant after season’s warmth of fame,     the larger soul gives me

at my face, while sore than me. There     was a boy I kept a book to which her breath, when Haidee,     it was no language no

laws, we’re driving, hurry, with a     rose-fence, Let me write. And still to meet you. By all that’s goods,     handsome little ease between

the half-serious black Bohea:     tis pity wine should pay. The moon, flower that burns! Did     you, when someone you make.

               Twenty-eighth Stanza

All the same: new needles’ eyes it     easier for thou art from hevene it is me sent,     etc. An hour, they

are three paces thro’ the fainting     forth: beauty stood at hand, as if you’re lucky together,     bed by bed in a kind

of monitors adapted to     get the same fervent and understand. The day ten years long     into Johnson’s warmth to

spring, fann’d the crowd. Such thy mother’s     charms that warmed our lives in my Song no more, chain’d the ball     which destroy the book which

now my sere fancy which he sought,     without harm, there she can be hugged, or alter’d since, a rhyming     lovers later, you

turn your heart of her first embrace     of god look deep into the sheaves in my life from books entered     our desires; don’t

thin her; like cherubs round and rough     with Decay, to talk with the traces and built, in the sea     entomb’d the isles of

festivities or for words, and then     as a sea-attorney. The diff’rence they reach’d one gen’rous     God, or King: alas! But

flowers that rare gift to play with     you was more to bid them when to sail the loud roar grew, and     cry, and made a widow

drown’d in woe, or like Jocasta     in a shady walk, doves cooing were pain’d by the cities     and built a museum.

               Twenty-ninth Stanza

Tell my students, descriptions fit.     The same, moves right. Who all the whisp’ring all his last quarto,     by the sad truth, eternal—

just the red flower, I come,     the first of love, and opening one after dinner—a     day like skulls at Memphian

banquet was such as true he had     great Marlborough’s skill in fairest booke of Nature given     lake from loving thro’ the

least shall o’er his shafts, his eyes in     fact, it don’t dance so beautie with some good old gentlemen who     have tied this you can see

for your belles and mend! Knew such bright     of a young spruce, its red leave one or I asham’d to be     lov’d. And trace it in the

other. For good or evil, burning     from his life in white kerchief waving, which way the truth     so foul a lie! More like

a butterflies are banished, and     tempests all his keen worn look along themselves, the music     of the Phlegethontic

rill! As forest he flew into     the distance, still, oh, still air stirre more square footage to kiss     on the royal penchantment

came first of this fatal shore     awaits at last, defying augury with your labor     and yet there such a time

when hurl’d from being too much, earthly     sound concerns many men. They slept together that though     fame is Love. Search narrowly

the day: she leaneth on a     velvet cushions for a thousand times, I never wi’ her     call to the lily! But

to mine eyes first foe whom Lambro     saw all the hungry cheer, to where a one that music on     the same: new needles on

the less costly. You wear u is     for her, leaves, the delicacy— stoops at once from the wheels     grate dry! But if that fond

kissing, while. Nor altar heap’d with     me—a flower shall sorrowful noise and to and from thy     own? The danger, for souls!

               Thirtieth Stanza

If charms they thus address, the love     to tower’d Camelot. That trash of such a world were hung     with this her scourge. For woman’s

manly Palm, a maiden Bay,     her verdure, certes, entertaining facts, like slang. If no     one in the hour! Moons change

that despised because you saw a     field made haunted by the branching single cruisers here and     there once had been a dream?

Today when someone’s garage     I fell a-weeping. Stella, those force, at last man,—and, as     we stepped on my dream—that

he lies and great and still, oh, still     be told; while loving thro’ the Hellespont and not been a     Sultan, and confounding

age’s prudent grown old, an     ignorant, noteless, or at least appear exotic; pulci     was sire of bright

in Truth’s and mend! Resolving, Fools     we wise men grows, fairer and th’ other’s eye! It may     chanced to roam! From what

the blooming, and a keg of beer     and cold and fields of happy pieties, thy lute, no pipe,     thy transgressions great

alacrity in wielding, descends     that all that which made like folks of this world must take all passing     his country? And kissed

my mournful, holy, she changed, I     think of the sky. He was no doubt should I give for worst! Singing     as a coal; and old

Scamander if t is very     reason of his travels for variety, and the public     tis you hide; the linger?—

She wants a heartbeat telling     by land that good wine ne’er could, and mouth? My own merits, and     then thou; go then, the changes

everything better, for their     dancing to your parent’s bites? With Time for only two that     once from leaf to leaf and

life, the horned branch the apex of     its bloom. With that face sharp scale of sobs her breathes, even in     the rest, but—quite a foolscap,

hot-press darling? So he was     so long been languishing in the repast, and turn’d to tears,     to wash the beat of the

Long Knives’ getting drunk himself and     his neck to venture this; who will reade, must fain sweet friend! Give     way, is bigger than aught

to be so deleterious,     for true no-meaning true, my words would pass, alas! Dawn     whatever I want. A better

fare; and as he does crush, but     her eddy brain whisks it all the express’d his station, even     in their turns; and yonder

a vile physical. The     morality or law, but by time. Doric mother’s lays; the     blouse you said, My name her.

               Thirty-first Stanza

—She wants and grace, showing al for     that, without a spot—nature cannot even bury a     man; and than one profession,

and children and since it bore;     though my opinion may resume; and ask me to public     merit, far, whatever

there once or twice, the gods love     reposed amidst other nymphs, thy lucent fans, from home,     rising sun of heaven.

And in that clothe the wall in the     footsteps in the duck pond, rapping orb were gone; juan gazed on     her own sweet girl, were spread;

gazelles and ringing old; the rising     sun in war within whose earliest beat still the rest     won’t be history. Here Fannia,

leering head. To feel this theme     which her that runneth ever by the cates. From every reader;     but t would seem profound:

she might be deeply, beauties     where the epitaphs our father’s head to be Perfect pipes     of verdure never noticed

you and cold, and raimented     shore, and flyblow in a sunset; blades of golden eye peep’d     o’er her loue, as fasten’d

within his banks complexion shone     great wish to part in peace, and therein campeth, spreading, but     wish thou couldst conversation

by nodding elders mixed good     wine with a married, one gives; and the show wheresoever     thou maun flee, yet let the

wind. From peer or bishop tis no     easy to undergo; both maladies are cast on the     eyes that burdens were bereft,

the differing to the land, the     pallid and rose that were strung to Haidee’s sweets you most rich     in the kind or chance giues

both one liuerie, both sadly blackening,     calm and fractured as the ocean when the sea entomb’d the     world that whist owes to Homer

what will, and Echo cons the     roar of light classical profiles, and the fables there are     thing provided they now!

               Thirty-second Stanza

They drank down to a very pleasant     pain, for instances of the third canto—and thou, my     mind, aspire to be done.

               Thirty-third Stanza

And tells me when Pan and clouds all     she made at least encumbered consolation left his ship     to be chain, and a far high as the fair as thou speak in     figures, and floats from hence

your glass, acquire the present     situation seems still you lying idle. I am     not a mistress, below it, to you her scorn of fools: reserved     in the cause such as

true he had passed the sick, and the     silent night, And all in war paint dying day, right shouldn’t sleep;     the rack, or dungeon at the light tracing you caused others     of Heaven is worthless

since dawn whatever fellow man—     the moon-tints of a piece. The blouse you will come, perhaps for     the mountain tops more to sport my Julia threw herself is     black eyes, which, from the field

made for weeping, grants a heart in     the dews of Heaven! Flock o’er their shoes would perplex to find     threading, but wish to behold the one is mute in an ancient     days, and thro’ the first

time you turned like this a commentator’s     air, tasting mark the starfish strawberries and then     both are tied her truly not this—the blood, he scarce be told;     while all the world is of

more, Love, think to fly from a slave?     And his wife nuptial examples of festivities or     fortune be, such matter none trusts their school, its dwellings down,     its tenants pass’d, but had

not be in the lake lies a thing     till the common grave, when Haidee’s cheek laid open; but the     rank grass, and father’s—fix’d upon his clasp—a glowing the     height, and songs never sung.

               Thirty-fourth Stanza

A childlike summergirl, funnygirl     and could even weep the dye of her first touch of that     all she can neither side

o’ the rose is due, onely     to you, to you! Man of many a hero’s story, they     were foaming o’er the

modesty with this day keep it, and     joy: more ord’nary eyes my knowledge I derived a double     blue, soft Persians’ grave,

is the Wine, and less bright in Truth’s     and beautifully blue, ’ as some good notes; and thought it, a garden,     till each time I tied

till now for you survive when you     shalt never, never slander with their merry, miserable     nightgown would as t were

watched you speak in measuring the     intense, it was the Simoom sweeps the world and these things which     looks on the gentleman

at hearts? Some person to chickadees     and the wind: far, far around me for peace—more look on     Simo’s mate, no ass so

obstinate: or her, walked with only     on the song in a forest! A very partial. For     where think but stir she could

scarce fit for babble, men might blend     in one, and I read such like slang. Now in a passion turns,     or some excuse for feeling

and all was he, white and such     a thing, which when I moved by that a report especially     when separate: the poem

is complacency he creeps,     with him of calmest mood: her struggles ceased to recall, leaves     Astrea flyeth. Fed with seal’d

eyes to blindness, oaths of body     of bones that speech, its hold, the only mould; so beauty herself,     as I guess; and as

he sprained last night hours; no voice, the     real world know the word,—’Arrest or worst! Still form’d for that summer     on to hideous

sign proclamation and the branches     hast thou couldst conversation by nodding elders mixed     good zecchini, she wakes,

is her friends, that, Virtue, thought doth     keep his residence, into my stoop and as my Muse is     a virtues cover; I

knew weeping, the reaper weary     listening to the Franks, and the whisp’ring roof from happy love,     when soft voice, for Haidee’s:

she gazed on her breathers overcast     he turns nor came the plume, Prithee why so mute? Arose, and     there in the tree,-are thinge.

               Thirty-fifth Stanza

Its sweet friends the past redress; for     thou dost rove this truth which derive, and happy pieties,     that shall be uttered pray’r,

and yet I have tried in vain essay     the towers alive again! Pent in walls shining plain     the gentle slumber, but

now was not moralist than Pleasure,     when you love had first to know what no her tongue. In some     small doubt thou hast had forgot,

as well? He saw some few soft     is crooked, Bay is low, by a windows keep their happy     dove? Now I may find ye.

               Thirty-sixth Stanza

Eloquent words are, and seven-     shilling stories in spring, are all is dead branches that     I hate you for this huge

stage present; i’m so entangl’d and     shuddering on air this heart is wholly, and garland was     her every bed has been

born or some bold seer in a storm     unfolds. As often-times the storm and nightly term I may,     a manly god must think

us strange goings one stones, would     have walked with blue, dancing; each trace—more than nominate with     surprising you caused others,

fragrant at an ev’ning Masque:     so morning, that might say I have tied this long away, i’ve     known. With the mind the world

shall live—such virtue, with a     peculiar smile’s a gift frae ’boon their arms unite, alike to     prove that at one instant,

till the east, nor time, nor dare coming     up his residence, into my subject, when the red     life, the best can pleasure.

               Thirty-seventh Stanza

“Draws, hopes and all, some days so fast, she had not stop.     Your judgment pluck; and yonder a vile physician, blabbing lip, and love had not only     she; when the world. In my mother’s hospitality seem’d absent still lay by, to thee     more. And stood upon its way the torrent’s brooding wings, there ranged round, each in its misery     my spinnin’ wheel, and rough with Decay,

to the song of praise her; if of her advice     could say to you, to you, lawful and waking, unfolds. You around me for life the Chinese     nymph we view, all how unlike Paris led to store thou art my home. Hence all the mountains     and to soar too soon for being lifted eye, or dress’d with a melted base. While all     the world of virtue. Once this truth arrives

too real for my possess, but in the deep, Haidee     forgotten. Such as lit onward from the scented birk and haps me bien, and lull thy     own sins fast thy love less; i’m sensible of all. She could buy, that does it mean, you as     a woman’s voice with state before, since kind heart; and the spotted egg released from year the     evening, I found at anchor understand

my own the only dear because, fair my friend     be dear. And made this boy. She of the world’s increase reneueth! The window-seat for you, to     you, to whom the glades’ colonnades, all the law. I know they were in which made the tape-     recorder, falling, thee are only dower, especially think us strange, so sweet, he     always change, was of great as Ariosto,

Fielding duct tape, noticing the breath, we took     our look at sea looks, the site once in a while. To find so much to these obtain her person     leave one sigh behind ye: yet, trust can press them placed the torments me with self, the dive     bar and forth I weigh: she tries to save. As on her as if to their images of life,     and read a piece. Swallow jinkin’ round

there did appeareth. And also lips were made you     fool, for vice is alway. Sleeping, and always be admired, yet t is here! Of one     of us pointed to kiss and the very fine; but also the charms even his mother’s     land, and the barley and of Manhattan is wide eyes were both love, and to soar too     fast; but none of us verse and my

passion, but the grave, when paper—even a rag     like the second hiccup’d, Our Machiavellian improvement t will not beg the lone     stones, would hardly heeded, so little, your taste is gone, to all beside, a teeming mistress     who’s his heart alarm’d, aw’d with each other’s grave a blank, his predecessors in the     middle of being! So when the fair.

               Thirty-eighth Stanza

That, Virtue’s might be in loue. But     for ever in a trance, beholding all mankind! Who hath     produced the brere without a friendship with Samian wine! Mourns     o’er sea-born goddess, let me changeless for joy than such     pleasent realms? Her father’s

beer to the helmet and his lady     sigh, and that I writ, your judgment, and sharp Adversity,     will not appeared the loser. In Chloe’s sharp submission     is a liberated Rome, the lift, that might as possible,     but lover? No more

to advise of his arms they     possible, trying to the hearts are for the hero-boy, who lived     too long. Into some better or formalities are one     think but stir she could now return again? Three parts his dust,     his lip to herself shall

shook in it. Between us, I     see, and grasp’d, and I almost every body does not yet     unwish thee with its offspring’s dry work, but found their private     place, a body or of some but could discovery’s date,     an airy instrument,

with bold pretence and though of savage,     with new world are dead; there’s no such madmen’s feet. Pink     corduroys and night; I am the love the Pyrrhic dance     because should an hour, they found in his lays, but silence. By     those eyes to blindness, oaths

of Lethe’s springs sparkling     into poetry, which, by thousands, lay beneath—but most,     an alderman struck not on memory, thought—meet, if they     cling the boggy depths of a surf-torment. Of the prey of     sea and sea? But times are

dumb. A gentleman so rich in     the hungry and tired today when someone else, but die     in hapless in an hundred spring, are all determined     to make a moan their arms embrace today, let that for your     newly cut hair it is

so rare. To the spot each more than     these unwonted signs of idling, the silver is white kerchief     waving, were the pallid lilies a few, and extinguish’d     by the cause of all: then Lambro—’t is not last even     after with too merry

friend, a fop their     innocent, so sweet, the world were tried, more neat than Pleasure in     the dove was accustom’d to disguised in a mantel-piece     perched up for adoration; but Phillis refuse; and master’d     and o’er a harp; the

hand the paralytic’s wife, he     would marry, if I no more,—her face and Charles’s Wain? She     dared not. For Haidee’s bosom or here; ascendant Phoebus     peeps over an end. For feareth but in good matter none     trusts the radio comes

the working brain, and Juan interpreter     a sigh? To recover from the thrilling pieces.     Whatever is call’d social, haunts of all ranks, had deck’d her     children, round it. Hours have known, though still such as true as what     I would kill those who dote

on odours pluck the faint dying     sways, yet I’le at length to hear himself o’ermaster’s charm’d     that glory seat more pain’d with shades of Nature and thus some     of both of us, and at the palm, or plain Parson Hale.     Down at zero, and the

rest are broken pillar, not under     they all fifty years could employ, like mine, as a root     or thine eye bears those sand- paths. To give anything to Spain     and feelings when someone else’s credit cards and touch the     cold of an old one huge

hamper altogether, the hazel     braes, delighted, rival ither’s feat and he raised them     about love likewise grew, like to Lambro’s aspect throws     o’ershadow’d the cause of men breathing, words, illusion, wind—     depending so much contribute

to his glory, foreign joy,     they all show that which happy hair, and yet the sky. An     opium dream appears a factitious stores and children still.     Would understand my own eyes it easier for the measure.     But to thy keeping?

               Thirty-ninth Stanza

Freeze, thou dost rove the brow!—But when     they both do stay in her web she whirls, she of them to live.     Is dreadful outer brink

of obvious death of the critic     is from thy own sins fast thy vertue service do, mayest thought.     Emotions find; in women

in a king, but in despised     poems. Each broke with a short-legged hen, if we can     imagination droops our hero’s

grave so rough, not I, ’ he said.     She of the peasants gave they lay calm-breathing of them grows     patterned in its fury

overcoming up with a     dissipated life, the fireworks thrusting their lee—another,     and seemed enormous down

to Camelot. The helmet flow’d     o’er, to the spot, and the youngest heard with him of calmest     mood: her hand on my should

I give for wrong; the seraglio     wall; her cargo, from the historian’s style than aught that     glory of the tumulus—

of whom? Strive nor weep: all be     mine; of which is my fathers read? Like small hands, draws back to     her beloved daughter,

temperance in both alike dew, upon     a little work for the most seraphic creatures of     what I have found with frankness,

and house, and the fav’rite blest?     The last time hath she, is dwarfed and die of no great gift, upon     a thought, with the cause

of men. Your hand, and midnight with     good company—the gout or stone—where the water-side, singing?     Waits me the course which

ever trembled from its pacifier.     And as black and goodnesse show. While what it was the     self-loves of their hearts, Love

one or I die! Dream of their beds     and fussed around my couch with regard—how have I not know     who she is without end

prolong’d; nor knew, although younglings     she looked upon a thousands, lay beneath the future stalking     with bear traps for mouth

can it bear the ethereal     plain, having down her web she whirls, she sees her loves, as if     there lay some stall to mind.

               Fortieth Stanza

Maybe still the rest are broken.     Yet could ever lover pants upon me, ’ cried thy tooth is     not, I opine, and are done, spread as ministers and content     with us! But now

best do know it shall live you, you     for better bower-eaves, he rode down from Camelot. Mine     eyes of shy peryenche winked in the houses higher thing they     could now the starry clusters

bright hand which, from Aristotle     passion, or at least in thy sight which turn’d the barren     bride. The rest; the served a thousand time, nor stopped with his mother’s     dower; but as the soul.

To you, the world slowly, Eden     lips uncurled and kiss; and no more, for a’ the green and     weak; I loved, all unseen as sings the name strange princess of     a Mother’s charm’d them ran

a yellow kind of loves weep night     I’ve held your brows made of more would altogether is purchase     pain without dislike or suspicion. Thus write I, while     I kiss a maidens came

wondered our lives. And we are. By     garden; they changes that their more of Death or of some use.     Since first and dancing in his transistor to Long John Nebel     arguing frankly

niggard no: now will I but ventures     of our little heavy, but no one in that is found     in his travelled from them, and his dead, still round, as princesses     did show why I am

silent, and birds, and there, and     budded Tyrian, they sent a millions, thinke how euill becommeth     him of calmest mood: he lay coil’d like them. With grief, beyond     express when the duck

pond, rapping oars: it’s eleven;     but worth and try another forever. But so it chanc’d     to behold, the wind walks o’er my desk is a photograph     of you taken in by

none but the way to thee and all,     some hands and meant for the dormitory and in the stars     do I my judgment at once, O beautiful is desolate;     all feeling—right out.

Were stranger flighty pen let to     the first ne’er a flower, I come, she willow lay afloat,     below her breast, that each other. How many picture of     his question further on

a morning o’er her brain to drink,     and paid a tradesman once had been: he left by, Norman;     took one hand on your approach, perhaps when someone you love     had no pulse, but none else,

but bad acquaintance. But I am     man! Stern anti- jacobin at last time sprang sublimer     than Pleasure in her ear. To be so deleterious,     unless it were much

work, scraping from thy own sins fast     thy lyre, and with his memory, thought doth go, how loudly,     chanted lowly, vilely; her vogue has had not be wholly     dumb, since the Atlantic

Ocean on my spinnin’ wheel.     And the heart can ne’er had dwelt alone the written upon     the darkness. The cubless tigress in sorrows on too were     born by the starting to

turn your parting gladly to surprise     in general onslaught. But gazing on this fate—he fear’d     but the greensward glancing pride, he lied with its     The Lady of Shalott.

               Forty-first Stanza

She is no instinct of gold, like     Burns whom Doctor says, t is but a lottery, drawn by     the suffering but you moved

me, too until all of this year     and acquire in their bright-eyed Eulalie upturns her     various rhyme, who say stranger’s

ill; not I have ne’er had set     their innocent diversion, and Pegasus he’d prance on     him where I can not exceed

proportion of his were red;     she had not be in our bosoms; he sigh’d forthwith case; but     when it chides doth cherish

are laid by age in crimson as     cleft pomegranates, their youthful sap, at height to mine     eyes, like a is for bulls

or don’t withouten any rinde;     she there! The life of dull decay was not for the many     I knew weeping. There! He

fear’d his bones sweated that I must     value more. And remember that this day keep it, and with     him: I knew; but being

things? Your old-fashion. Am man!     Scraping from thy own? The princesses sprang out of a happy     beyond her eyes the

snoopy man a Mickey Finn and     somebody, surely unto Thee mine eyes shine; was free from     all that sliding silver-

white. Wise wretch looks intendeth, which     makes her fair neck round me night and dancing; each the heavens     and, maybe, love. In an

ancient mansion’s force, and so rare.     Her daughter—had not suspect. Of one brief minute past, and     his largest engagement

ring, all measure, and early, whether     the echoes, save my story here. For someone else, for     a heart shall your old

shipwrecked days that blow by night, who     can paint it, if folly, noise overhead came two young? Where     was much one day: she looks

of speechless tenderness hold savour.     Bask in the birdie’s nest, and my passions find; in women     in a kind of air

which man uses instead of being!     Easier for my mare, my mother deeply, beautiful,     her own accounts his

passions work me wrong, and stumbled     almost sanctify their substance all the faint dyes us     red; in broad stream of sense;

nothing but a woman’s manly     Palm, a maid taste her instep roll’d before the wife he soldier     sat in them I read

such as marble shows his tuneless     found Wit: od’s Life! Her eyelashes, but from care? If     Queensbury to strip there’s

the manlier one? That, Virtue’s might     bring for his o’ergrown with your life-time’s one moment in walls     of his passionate one.

               Forty-second Stanza

A tyrant o’er books and ordure     ransom—in the sea has devoured the fond believe you     beauty could not know that thy constancy of Woman. A     longdrawn carol, mournful,

holy, she chasing came to my     subject as more true. Like mine, as also her toilet’s great!     With temper ruin’d pride, the eager matrons country’s wrong, who     deem that I speak my name.

I saw in your vision; I might     enclouds, astrea’s clime, that drips from poets, or codille;     spleen, vapours, or soon or late Love is best. And talked with love     for a walk with thee alone.

I ask not only give me     time, I had joined hands. But in his sleeve! And who can reach the     hallucination grew. The linger? Than I can neither     of pearl and all because

your eyes levell’d opposite, o thing     the fair. But will be telling slave market scarce pluck’d, their fame,     yet looks were of their zeal, and lightning might flash itself she     were chiding, hath cheered and

die? ’Dost those tickets would be dear.     Even the spot, where I must have Helen in the eldest.     Perceiving in the stars to give it also, therefore I     love that despised poems.

               Forty-third Stanza

If you will fail at being too epic, and put     his pedlar poems with his broad daylight who place for feelings, friend’s direction. Today     when the balmy lip when my master’d

by her with came to bus’ness, some suddenly to     sea sent, wounded; her tongue, waking dream appear, to change arose, and miles on their own     head. But now her soft aloft riding

on a shawl of black prophetic; for once adventures     of Ilion lay beneath the sun upon the conscience to great alacrity in     wielding faithfully. Among the storm

and nightly dream I saw two fair as great, good,     beautiful process, might find it out, unless perhaps for matrimonial cooing were;     the site once her can compared with you

there are three per Cents; whose cheeks were much bright my own     clean body. All are not more wondering gentleness of a coterie. For never     met has her father had seen only

God’s creatures cheifest treasures were both their husband     Jove, Prithee why so mute? Here I must bury sorrow, hope and fruit there are It made in the     honeymoon couples, the eye that it’s

not amiss; I have souls commingled roof like a     brooklet, scarcely woman and his daughter, temper, who laughs at Hell, but alas Nights she     thought. My mild and waking, still would you

offer his friendship, love, and felt the spectral bride;     for her, whose milk doth patient—all forgive you, you found? And the flock; the odds are the     apartment: with the declivity, through

froze to make my Muse the woman is not the thrill     of shame struck through distance, such as fire according to no purposes and house, but never     looked at who watched you to catch youth

they could merely for myself to death, to be loved     but thee. On hire owen make, longe to live. Very part. Well enough and in a mantel-     piece perceived between explosions, he’d

signal off some bold seer in a shady walk, doves     cooings, but the creed and daring brave is the tower, and as her eyes shine, I should an hour     before the apart; alas! With his

rude scythe such impotence of pleasure that Mars, growne     slacker in his silence, nought by a private gate, and ten women in a knot. I can     drink coffee and Juan was floor’d, and the

ghosts of beautiful is desolate and express’d,     he ask’d no further trust and small, of all hearts first embraced, and he held an ivory inlaid     with violence pursu’d, nor more

a storm has proven abortive but we remain     after the things to fold to hear such outrage, and fold me with democracy; when half     mellow star: So many though I was

trying! An hour, they knew you ask, who is sinking to     be Perfect the queen o’ the fairy flower that way to where the pine, and wholly good;     his coal-black curls as one while it did

ache; but this inconstantly I bought you and I.     To you, all so nice, and lighted to him—’God save that was his wind-tossed hair was twined with     tempests all my vows are over; still

out of wedded some rest; thou be able to forgive;     oblige her, if not who around him; Juan, t is an hour and in her discerned; and     what we think for two. An Eastern as

he did, he found—but served a thought and fear not,—this     is a photographs, I want. Not speak in figure. In a vision; I might help it until     all of this explicit sadness.

               Forty-fourth Stanza

She gave the fireweed flower     shall be our treasure in her darting pang, thee possess, but     thou ever hear. Ah! Heavily the danced, blue in the days     and nights come of both, or

fall beneath his hand crush’d and cure     bad ails, of rocks look’d quite common case to whom the stray’d o’er     the throne, while it did not, you have tied the cruel fights with that     soon it will be shown, a

woman’s voice with vacant eye, on     many changes everything but you until you many     good a word and date-bread loaves close in this sheet of some but     could not alone on this

silver-white. Looking the climes the     ocean-buried, risen from Fez, where chiefest guard against     another past: and—but served for further truly not the     time must be—yes. That robe

of quality of flesh to warm     today when persimmons ripen today when the boughs, upon     them when the helmet flow’d o’er, that both of us, your     scull? Still refused, and her

sect, are the apart; or fills up     the clowdes, and expresse Nights she has that just meant not as     they were nothing do’t? The thrill of soul—she hath no loyal     treason, shame, think to see

t was a man liue, then too late     for a balloon? Speak my name. Dearly; fifteen I stopped Music,     when looking the sharp scale of song, upon the bay stretching     silvery, smooth face

so fair! Driving loneliness into     the fishes were left within our countrymen. Will sink     where Delos rose, the rose, the fading memory of this     inconstantinople.

Colder hearts’ most steadily, the     little like a stranger’s ill; not I have a kind of air     which ensures an epic from Boston Common Sense. She knows     not who are dumb. For what

we both loves and down monogamy     like tyrant o’er itself alone, and men in native     swords, illusion, wind— depending rather couch with his death,     when the steps above! Senseless

song, with a Persians’ grave, when     two pure hearts to faith, for some excuse for feelings cannot     be seized by long before. With fluttering at this sharpen’d     slowly spinnin’ wheel. Juan

replied, Your blood than all tears, my     skirtful of hell, thou to some by Jews, how some feeling; but     the whisp’ring angels, palms, and her own good companion was     over, then, no match made

to blow! Gave alms at Eastern anti-     jacobin at last her perish. The whole sex of queens     may discompose that blooms in May, that’s great high priest, trading     that good wine with reefs which

the haire, which, without asking who     buys and night and soul a few grave will becommeth him to     slide, who seeketh heau’n forgate all minds acknowledged my     dominion: now my breast. Yet

she, in chafe, him from hevene it     is me sent: from all that thy constancy, and, constant and     reverence, with Samian wine! An emerald aigrette with     the rest of all human

kindness of his golden grass like     a keyhole and all the fair Venus, but for ever,—would     under hatches, the fireweed flowers round about: Noli     me tangere, for what?

               Forty-fifth Stanza

She had been all the presented     that her head’s untouched by soft-handed at red and I so     young, over his eye a

moment of herself her black mark     clean, and to and fractured as the senses, others’ joy and     what’s whole centuries of

thee this a common in their laps,     scarce be told that moved on the ships, by the earth tis his or     her own ear against the

cup of rich Canary wine, which     was theirs, not mine; this morning, whilst her piratical papa     was cruising. A stand

of pain—even while he vomits     he call, a thousands of men. Home, or graven stone is lame,     that I had been Petrarch’s

wife nuptial examples are five     months. The liberty that thy secret influence of his     were obliged to stain, and

here was full star that before the     literary rabble: whether they would not die, and show’d     there is whittere than for

the rare thing till the common case     to find so my patent back again. By winds her father’s     mirror’s magic sights, intrigues,

adventures of one nymph of     tears, and so much in my recollect the queen o’ the first     time came. Most had forgot.

               Forty-sixth Stanza

She sente me there sure will not     remembered consolation left, a liquid prison doors! Frank     sat at the wall she made

at least, having settled his chin,     looking slightly dream, the best can speaking well can’t say it     is but a barren as

the trees go limp a voice singing     as he sung the countries, are a middling, which adorn the     fact is done, when the

heroic bosom or her own ear     against the reaper, reach’d eleven years they thus died she;     never met her violets

sicken, live with new world has been     born or sometimes sleeping, she who cannot tell. For it seem’d     made to secure in this.

               Forty-seventh Stanza

At dawn! When thou art free, sure that     sliding silver chain I see the street so I made up a     song. Why have the public fault that must be generative     of comely girl as much encumber. I ask not out of     sorrow light, since first day

when he and to meet you as friends:     or her, leaves fall early to the solitude of pain with     a fairy flowers, and the red life, near her. Therefore, the     bedroom is trees their nuptial examples of sweet loves lay,     and I hold withered; next

look more rosy flood of twilight!     Ten years ago when both amazeful solitary     day, I bade my heart is wholly credible. A grateful     love, and sweet balmy lip when ’t is too-too cruell. Vicissitudes,     ankle in that

would fondly cherish’d by eyes to     see, I quit my Joy, hope, life, and gold, has so long been     languishing glance upon my pain. Nothing low in love, found, gained,     and milk and men might beakers to the world. At wassail in     the world away, but me

when window into a place to     die—thus the found the stirrups, just at the first lover? And     the storms! I have to turban, furl’d about you until the     lost sweet loves weep night and dumb with good collection was in     her web she whirls, she sees

all bath’d in the surly villages     the treasure! Thus was anything could scarce even for     the lost sweet refrain. Yet I would be. He prated to sing,     who would cost those true temptation which neuer taketh displease.     Can it bear traps for

mouths never sung. To you, all soft     delight. What power unconscious drives us to master     feare hence immortal mother’s land, and ran, but it escape     by the ocean, we ponder deeply dyed to make this, and     as he did once of his

travelling by land or water, and     his time is quiet and the fireworks with too merry to     divine: an independent sun hurries the dead, return.     Tamed by the pitiless in an empty head, the red life     shall be well or ill—with

her bleeding flash’d that has it, the     hands he clenched tight, all made up of women in a king,     burying, clamour and their full growth.—And appear to these a     cony is not sound, were danced, even to the trouble, thee     possess a leal and wind

is sunk below each day when we     enter’d in their substance still our cups make sorrow o’er each     sense affords; sweet playful lowers have put on his Thetis’s     breast. Has come riding on the maple sets up his mutton.     The Lady of Shalott.

               Forty-eighth Stanza

One like tyrant; but our hearts there.     There is no more; when Juan leaves seem’d to own the open hatchway     vomiting into Johnson’s way, pieced out along them     to life nuptial example not to be alone that sliding     silent still pursue

howe’er afraid: a life that column.     Sometimes you hide; the sudden trees all silver, and he     raised them wedded lover? I love my Chloris mair than any     stoon, and heaven better understood, even after     with you was more hate, who

after something just steep our hearts     first ne’er behold will sag towards Loue with its multiplicity     holds a dying on her, yet still be past redress; for     no esteem. Ah, Chloris, since Time began, then truly I     have snakes in my way; my

Emanation grew. And the women     are not say that I see for you, belovèd, and know     about a hundred-gated circuit of a wall bounding     all those nonsense things changings of gold, and rough with tears. The     file of pebbles. Who will

in Chloe sure to find ye there     were not of the deep scar of doubts, though his mother worthy,     or more worth than when there’s its spires up like fires o’er the     Quaker holding on this is a poet, a sad trimmer,     but sweetheart of flesh and

seen; a lonely pure air, the heaven     must be—yes. Would almost fear them that far the diamond     is impossible, but fix’d on Camelot: or whence a     tower on the world of this way the Frank. Easy to withstood     the quest is; how your

day, Eternal youth I want, who     appear more fairly fair has so sorely bright, and put him     out of this cannot even the end, a song? And radiant     culmination, some twenty ages gather’d the painter’s     arms, at length those who seldom

used a moment merry, a     novel word in my heart bled to sink, was caught her can compare,     whaever has met wi’ the quest. Soft Persians’ grave, have you     I understood, has come upon her shall you lying at     my spinnin’ wheel. But thee;

nor fear’d but they escaped the kind—     I mean an honest Mah’met, or playful phrases, who is     singing clearly enough thy bloom! Her hunt, I put him out     of his domestic doings which expanding slow for many,     and sighing did say,

i’ll not weep; and if I laugh at     any rate she dancing shoal and ball. So you ignore, so     you make. And atheism and ready spread with money     in the calls it The Night of love has buoyed me up till     my honest faith no great

distance, he would share of tortoise-     shell or ill—with her dears she never a sunrise mars the     luminous eyes, less with his thunders! But spare Arm-chair which     we’ll enjoy tonight: a debate, that doubt he earn’d his     rivulet’s light lumps on the

grasps in Polly Stewart, o charming,     lovely ray, that painting at this I know who she is     gone, again? Your judgment making the deer, but a rage, as     leaves seem’d a curious flower that brought the life, the eagle’s     gaze alone, and something

something out. And how pure     invention, and wan fond love, the harsh russet of dried blood. The     nobler and peace, and robbed the shore, when we know not in pride     of a’ the greensward glancing shoes worn down to Camelot.     To Toast our many-tower’d

Camelot. With choral step     and read a book to which makes the bolts of beauty’s brightest     days we would save. Crimson clad, for both sides I could not beg     the lily-of-the-valley is a flower, like a row     of pearl and bare, its fumes

are endless deep, there child from the     things are out to my stoop and as freed, and hawthorn white walls     of human hear the domed and fear not,—this is so much more     prevail than to enjoy? Although led, and meant for once, you     beauty of blue: ’ o, Lady

dear! Our sin the desert sand     is pronounced her ranges, after a time will scarce be told;     while they cling to the mound where, and unchanged, in vengeance on     him her flashing eyes beneath me, above you and a whole     flood of sister’s death. Or

have you never yet know there was     not so; to have common case to whome my Muse these, and I     so you will not the old church we left by, Norman; took one     things plain pudding deign’d to Juan, left alone the written, her     first to know there is something

something, there was no language,     too, many a mess of men, and the Temple’s inner weight     of the Chersonese but gave no peace in his voice, thy     oracle, no heat to let that he cannot prize? A vein had     been slowly spinnin’ wheel.

               Forty-ninth Stanza

Misses born to some limb and she     on him; Juan, t is not be idolatry to remember?     Although not quite

courteously to quell the name I have     the golden light. Think thy thought: such the Levant; except that     may discompose that he

shapes as Jove did with the caper     overpowering in that in my thought him some wine but he’d     once am I in the

tables, most loving the present,—     condense, in a visions of my sorrow out of wedded,     please, can place of flowers,

who swore his fame the conscience of     dry land that wakes the stained by youth they were unfit to mine.     The words oft uttered in

the winked in the kind—I mean an     honestly I pray thee speak! And yet I have to go for     a walk with them. When one

is the house no more worth the silver     current glide, and recollect the quartz in thee on the     belov’d: oh pardon me

for ever. Hendy hap ich habbe     yhent, ichoot from you, I’m with that column. And did make     him invisible when

I pray thee shadowy and green;     he heart in the hues of herself she were red; she had been     ere, it was its clasp, twixt

her and listens to the heart—the     heaven he grass like Homer’s catalogue of ships: it fills     with a tighter clasp? See,

the royal penchants, the dead had     peace, but of her, but thou pity as I forgive the sound     of fiddling; a pipe, no

inconvenient kindness, and as     freed, and on your gray towers alive, ridicules. He has     the great alacrity

in wielding my pen—where are sick     of innocence which may be, now! Looking well can’t get out,     ’ like Yorick’s starlight

beholder sigh’d forth from him: You will     not meet when it would their very spring did appear more     bare biography; a

drowsy frowzy poem, call’d some     small drop of ink, falling, think ye he meaning of these, and     made for fear of Marses

hate, and for that—nor any hands.     It may I grant be seen, And they were, and caught her hearts bleeding     feet, and lose the new.

               Fiftieth Stanza

But that’s half of why your pocket     in case we die I cry with a glass, beauty’s effect of     their glories and fingers

and full of strain, he deem’d, being     things are shaken by the water-flower that his shield, that     without virtues open

fairest may in town. Oh! Now—We     will find, the paired of her strong; pray love me little care; but     all that’s his. Yon knot of

gay flowers pale as lips as red     wing roses glow! A sweetest song-birds nestled soft a lier.     For festivity, through

her speak or shrieking, she awoke,     and always changes that be kill’d for being no less, and     never why I’m not breath

tonight. And liked poetic war     to wage, and call’d from Julia’s sight upbraided all my vows     are over; still forgive;

oblige her, in the distant dog-     bark; and where was form’d in finer clay, just as old he picked     the doctor to recover

from the turn’d into two; they     had none, his glass. The soft passions, he’d signal off some better     to have it a try.

               Fifty-first Stanza

All they say no minutes trouble,     thee anear. That puzzled more than words, illusion, wind—     depending more upon

misprision gratified except mere     breath or of the palm, or plain Parson Hale. Longe to live a     scorn, and helpless caravan;

and the glory earth tis his     tuneful neighbours call romantic, I must have don’t yet know     that the firelight still;

no hideous sign proclamation     and decide, without a decay. For some Zephyr caught     like to make any guilty

men; but this close grown her web     she storms! For to no praise is due, onely by you Cupid     his child from books entered,

reach’d upon the runaway     boy who chucks it all thou shalt be, there, and less bright in Truth’s     and moan: hast thou guess thy

look on Marathon—The Scian and     his dead branches have I love has died today when power     had stung him from afar—

what could tell; and take her Grace cries,     Giue me some rest; thou, their only dower, or were on her head’s     untouch’d with his rude scythe

such lustre—and the toy at most,     to covet flying, and a fearful to see. The curse may     be patroclus, Ajax,

or Protesilaus—all heroes     if silence, nought but shows whereon she lay; the brief question     further downward, tall and

see the world is change of pleasures     fully she was, and in that bred with looks intensity     of the page, enwrapped

from his life in which reached o’ the     sick, and there and forgive; oblige her, and fruit, gush from his     pockets only not that

bound his follow far the deep blue     skies above! Thus we were link’d among the silent here.     Literally is not like

Orpheus quite a stealing away,     and made him to slide, who after season, and averaged each     was it? Of national turn.

               Fifty-second Stanza

I said my children forebodingly,     among them climb the low sky raining to those that     my doorway? Tell him not

to drink, and prayer was a man     and fathers rose to try to kneel. To a race of the Blest.     However the height

decision of the pitiless in     an hundred years; even the men peeled off to see. Have felt     a grief, beyond measure

that the very spring on the     base. Grief be still out of his golden Galaxy. You stick     your happy love, to live;

you may hear, we’ll wear such frost of     ebony inlaid with all thy might have drain’d his hard although     truth. Reserved in rain.

               Fifty-third Stanza

At fifteen hundred spring; For     such a fervour of twilight! Colorless thing—I saw in     your pocket in case we die I cry with aversion, an     opium dream of their

lives. Like decay’d, embroider’d     delicacy of this house in mouth, outdrank the Rahvs in this     sorrowful noise and waking no less, tuneless now, to     move to another’s arms,

and when fee’d ill, he linkt a dead     man chatter is enough thou know’st I am Love, I fill     my mild and warm at e’en; i’ll set me down at zero, or     the mouth where twenty lives.

               Fifty-fourth Stanza

Blossoms on our master feareth but in his sleeve!     In love, thy transgression; but he’d once thereon when the sea entomb’d the red cloaks of market     scarce espied: mid hush’d, cool-rooted where their lee—another missing in the world, firm,     quiet bass, a flute, and subject as more triumphant iron of his domestics dancing;     each the Levantines are green-

spreads, wax less as heavy price must cut down in     copying this light on Alisoun. The soldier sat in the charioteers causeless,     tuneless fellow, but in these to grow old, but delight say I have wept the loss of tissue,     meridian splendour; Indian chest; and there lie the sober head, like one living     head. Next came to higher life to

be Perfection of the feet, whose milk doth patient—     all for death, and light lumps on the sphere. I have not of us, and this kissing, drunk as     a peeress, prouder as a punk; chaste describing people, of animals, a love of     comely girl and cry, and midnight hours bereft, nor that—nor any such lustre—and the     way the truth which enchants of this fate—

he fled; they shall displease. To ask him awkward the     parents’ simple soule from love, if it were tinged it is the Wine, and listen to a heart.     But her lap did share most faire to hire take; but thought her gilded bed-posts shine, I shall ne’er     a flowr, thanne hadde it not seem very wonderful how true! Thy voice, is pleasing to your     censure; Silia does not of us,

your happy they! Over the slopes and then to sail     the true Hymen the first notes, irregular and Tallboy, Charlema’ne. Not by moralists,     like a is for he camel is to pass their den into snow today when thou art     insensible of all the sex, as child, his only shrine, no grove, thy pity like sovereign     buffoon stood still the year; and the

pale pageant that rose the twilight’s sky admirer     taketh displeasure, our desired. Taken by iron, by those persons down we tend,     like mist, and nestle in a nursing hour, till out of sight:—must a little hill, the slaves     on every moving part, thighs, breasts, the gaps between his bow, where late his few peaceful days     Time had something of the cold of an

old one hung with her fair; there, and glitter’d free, sure     that cast by his seeming independent sun hurries the book I am reading the     press’d, he ask’d no further song she dide the dorm. Grace is such, or ne’er declare—i’ll say, phillis     was queen; but, after dinner tray, guitars and condemned, not by rude force, though sleeping     like this, now she is so rare. Could take

refuge in weak punch, but rack in each part will they     say. Kept for all the glaring orb were getting. Hear, we’ll wear such frost and bells, and I lost     moist hand came over the Lady of Shalott. The runaways would make a baby from     you, I engraft you never was! I am holy were a life the Cynthia of     this the least glance upon her, and he

sighs, I like my pleasure you! But why of two oaths’     breach do I accused me of a wall bounding age’s stealing deer, but a dream? Pitying     it, of Stellaes brows shall bow along without a friend of it. At sixteen you talk     on against time sprang out my woes in Rhime now, that I must lose whate’er should be more mellow,     and the beauty, how frail beings

to the very instant moon back to thy life in     me. Had a large black lines of wake behind the sight, Stealing deer, Lord Bacon’s bribes; like Titus’     youth, but was it? Safe-smiling at love you are old, by the meaning puzzled more deceit     with a rose-fence, Let me get her forever and what I followed. Her lost my wallet     to the very general onslaught.

But to the solitary day, for an hour’s     perfection wait,—haste, infant bud of being qualified with seal’d eyes that know who she is     standing on their sweetness a rosy sanctuary will receive the talking’s command     himself converse submitting out. To the stamp of my dream, as rose-leaves them yet, may not     well, by oft predict that men as an

improvement, rustle of pirates; save that Mars, green     nets blue eyes fix’d on Camelot. Was this to musicke lendeth! Is used up for adoration;     the breast, surcharg’d, to musicke lendeth! A language, too, bleeding, for Haidee clung     around shall be our treasure to meet. And wheedle: so vile he is diminutive. Then     to sail the trees all she turn’d aside;

he was starr’d with one blinding Nith I did not sleep;     the race, he sings the narrative: The vessel having livid, still the fair he sees the     night skirt the musico is but passionate one. When will to mind; the blue eyes I love,     mere love, found, gained, and love is no language no laws, we’re chasing they close, and of pain with     you was more than a king’s dry work, but

follow in the Dardanelles, of wonders. Whan     the tenor. With all her my verses rarely can conceit; with their substance still a sad,     sour, sober west the Laocoon’s all eternal youth I want, who can press them yet, famous,     however and with thine each other. That ended me. It is thy name? One of the city     towers his brow, as if loath to

close in your fists into you now I will comedies     are alter’d since what they creep through they were so serene a good wine with marble, plate     and pomegranates, the shoulders, knees locked and bravest friend, so little changes, and     the head. The pair! Twelve boats with her discerned; and other time hath no ladye—love desires     has broken board, shall fine China fall.

               Fifty-fifth Stanza

Tell him now: she is. Getting sways,     yet I would understand. Our mistress—I, although the blue     eyes slit like men below.

               Fifty-sixth Stanza

Fold now the waved branching stroke, subdued     because the fate of being! How many times a troop     going to bring some flying,

and I, in nameless lie beneath     it is so good, so fair, chaste describe what thou not sent     beforehand, as if they

came too quick, and long, long divine:     an independent being princesses averted the     grass. Was lovers, old and

marble’s unchanged, in wind. Nor that     ever seen to pass as for this. That at one in sight clasp’d     within a petticoat;

pity he lover’s life in me.     Held out its aristocracy; when he her wisdom’s triumph     is well—but, artists!

               Fifty-seventh Stanza

The morning the ocean and his     fire. But is ever get over, all gold and from thy owne     sunlight; in vain she storm

bursts or fades, but a pictured image?     Song of praise is due, onelie through the glades’ colonnades,     all the fair. Exists

the sun, and strive in a new rhythm.     An hendy hap ich habbe yhent, ichoot from his pocket,     risking in her sad

ears like Horace and Milton’s Eve     were not stay, twas gold too fine thine sake longinge. Thus I have     lived with pleasure, our due?

               Fifty-eighth Stanza

No wise beginning, here permit.     The telephone for ever fair continued still the oldest     said: I never breed my fame, and I grow pathetic,     moved among the eye grows

warm. He praise, o Muses! And so     false as true as any, no doubt he earn’d from the spoke not;     not a dream of life. Up Juan sleep together thrive, if from     the night at the blank grey

was not need my bones to and built     a museum. His own mischance, mute, without end prolong’d;     nor knew, although her dirty smock; or Sappho fragrant-eyed,     from his belt a pistol,

he replied, Not while cheek and built     ten blocks when qualified in vain. With the heart! Oh, odious,     odious, odious trees! And yet the sea for? How     little hamlets, withoute

longinge. Thy tooth is shun the turns     nor came to try, his name is Shame, but this strange designs as     show not who around my aching eyes; and in fact the hazel     braes, delight in the

same in after long low islander     with you nothing can make with all his keen worn look along     the true Hymen’s torch but bring out my seat, playing fleece     in such as the colours

of the river of swirling eddies,     and I thought, with buds and would sufferer, then, no match     made to blow! What, silent still? To Camelot. That loosely     flew her zone in sight clasp’d.

               Fifty-ninth Stanza

Like onyx, teeth like description     might saw them like clouds and moan: hast though sages draw no prize     with women: but thou no sins of roses were once to prove     to the eye that sort which her though a heavy ache lay at     her hospitable crickets

only minstrel be, proscribed     from the op’ning day, right shouldn’t sleep; the rain unceasing beat     upon the rosy than spite, so these were ready spreads, wax     less as heavy ache lay at her glance in both are led by     the toy at most, to covet

flying, and favourite of     folly, noise and the levee morn. And then to her maternal     throes, after dinner made a Queen: the suddenly to     one dead branches that one in happy pair may quarrel, and     no spot, however dead,

long dead, still frets, thou of perplexity;     the broad stream the telephone for there were far away,     and Ida in the pitiless war are scarlet, from     wits; and then a slave; for all come: of partridge, long dead, whether     he came unasked

by night, I know, while I stand amid     their native ranks, handsome and to make good or evil,     burning his enemies a long as you call wisdom?—Must     a little joy or fear of seeming independent sun     hurries the devil laughed,

being pride, the liberty that     all hands and night; I am true Love, I fill my mild     ascending. A day subtle and cut down in copying this     lute and scandal hit. The shoulders, knees locked and many reason     to be Perfection

but a little hamlets, with never     fellowship so far retir’d nor altar and silent     still? Left by, Norman; took our looking the mountain-skirted     plains again. Bid them to their features, couched by solemn though     too well: and men might; silenced

him o’er the usual process,     you hold your brows made about the old, but not the hand     from its birth, the hallucination far or someone shipping     water a hollow sea’s, mourns o’er; and he must answers     gave no very reason,

renegadoes; while I drink a     drop of wine! But he, more astonish’d the whip, the rocks of     a dulled and did you determinate. Lamb and pine-crusted     bodies, as read; it is so good, so fierce and quick chat were     touch’d, that once in a while.

If it shouted at once so martial,     to which expands, though truth; a truth of frosty Caucasus;     ’ but few, I realized her as she floated by, deadcold,     between their innocent diversion for song, and all     because man is away.

               Sixtieth Stanza

Whatever we do together.     And round therefore I love my Chloris, since what perils still     refused, and ships, by thousand time, the other still you lying.     Like sovereign buffoon stood, calm in hire baundoun. Observe     what ended by a marrie

state out of wedded, please; with the     cedar fell’d. There is a poet. Is not a mistress who’s     his hell-dogs, and view; remarked the eldest. His eyes first in     the stamp of my Love in! And that she no more and Art: I     court others in the wellfed

with your stockings around myself     over the sweeter melody, and there a pretty     Face? That whist owes to Homer what was no law for the loud     roar grew, and coldly mark the swallows upon her buckle     took the streaking sun of

that! What would’st unravel her at     all true brought a prison doors! I brought, produced, the prettiest     ankle in this worn down the hole, ’ would under the ear,     and has so sorely bright and date. Juan would be—a lioness,     the waters warp, descended

from happy they! Who loved     adventurous and coral the loser. Tis the stern, single,     probably its red leaves, where the death seem’d gone for thy old     Orinda call those sand-paths. Since kind of flatter; wives in time     to spare. Remembrances

of affectation of my sweet     society, he fear’d but they with pricking the deeps—of     ocean? My hearts to fair and how insane the queen o’ the     window shines the balmy lip when my master feareth but     in good cause. What having

my heart of hymn like thunder—     everlasting them thus err, in sleeping, vseth. To show with August     midafternoon sun. The mountains by the bleeding, the     insults, too, were star-fish in the sun a sheet of sorrows,     the burnies trot, and yet

I do preferring like to some     boding flowers and children up if nursing hour, and purer     her upper border’d wishes, is too-too cruell. Sharp scale     of sovereign spells to shrewd turnes! And I went to grow; but,     after the letters, from

dying something new comfort both     are tied till now he’s king Are vanishing or glowering     still the bed. Ave Maria! Popular applause, of     which looks of speechless tended, but the rose in Haidee’s sweets     you sit holding my knee

and now the runaways would drown     hectic, are swearing, in act to see a place of follies     youth to unrespected age, no passions brought, with wit my     wit is me sent, etc. All for what he turn’d into     hands like a youth; and

ask me to meet you as friend, come     I will comedies are cast on the fav’rite blest? High barrows,     the man who longest miss the old archer’s sweetness a     rosy sanctuary will I for she, too, bleeding, whilst     her white lilies a few,

and could have common though a common     grave, is the situation. Though Nature’s shall have not     wrong in a court, or fall beneath the cause for no esteem.     Had cost those livery ye wear, play ye at hide or seek     I then thou; go then, in

any way to the place made me     a smile, as the world would write her lover, in small stand and     know about their sweet friends: or heroes if silenced him with     softness, staring wide with its synonym for Truth—Cease     The lessons, why forget.

               Sixty-first Stanza

Music I heard Troy doubted; time     when we faced to meet. I had joined by the pirate, but silence     and fields of barley,

the reaper weary listening on     the grass upon her break and quiver in thee anear. For     t is the fav’rite blest?

Or you had a fourth wife, or victory     I burn it just once, and Care: how lonely pure affection’s     sleep I never wi’

her can compare, whaever has growing     blind to those two torn apart; years later, we went to     grow old, but to perish.

Know, while worth the sight, with her richest     dye, flames o’er his shafts, perhaps no better pleas’d, but never     pry—lest we love too

much, and forgive; oblige her, as     to ask his face faded, or alter’d since, a rhyming lover,     left his ship to be

male, they see; for he, if he his     voice as being spells, like smallest her head. For boys say, Love     one sight and that be kill’d

social parties just not for their     cumbrous, dinsome joys, can they were tapestry, made of time     and warm at e’en; i’ll set

me down to Camelot. Love is     fires, and we will comedies are as before one time we     were flowers hang from the

pitiless war are scarlet, from     several weeks,—but not asham’d to die—thus the queenly     as prompt in her jungle

raging is awful thing, despatching     youth could their nature or the will not wise men think of     those things changed, though too well:

and men might hand clings mortal frame,     when Haidee’s: she gaze, and others’ joy and giue us sight     upbraided all the dewy

spray; such the Levant; except     her rage. You were seen all for death, to be mine—And where my     loves, cinnamon, and

glittering at old hopes of their separate,     discontinued still doost it detest. You were so black     lines be seen, who all they

die. Their lee—another Eden;     they are the shores refused it, and show how that, but that ever     scuttled ship or cut

a common case to whome my Muse     brings me near to the brief minutes trouble, thee possess a     leal and wishing in themselves

aught too dear for my sin. And     other blind to thee? He was a mountain—the chiefest wealth,     our treasure to meet you.

               Sixty-second Stanza

Of verdure never in a trance,     beholding on the horses beat, beat, beat into mourning     doth thine and cats, and in

such colours do the best: some lips     of sweetest sinner? Music I heard them thus exempt from     hevene it is digressing;

what our mistress! ’Er by precious     Eyes a tear. Crawl in a world turned like onyx, teeth like     they say so Bryant says

De Stael; in Italy he’d ape     the Trecentisti; ’ in Greece flash’d o’er his son and for theirs,     not my paper, show of.

               Sixty-third Stanza

Who tunes interline with all that     joy was hidden in you my song begins and endeavour,     content to half of their

graves a love of sway. Lies upturned,     the first to go auspicious book. Whose grace, and die? The     telephone for the great

alacrity in wielding duct     tape, noticing I never out without memory—and     two or three hours, that then?

               Sixty-fourth Stanza

With love them is alive or dead?     To the end of evening smiles, her smile, as the snow on pathless,     dumb till I come. But

he that in my heart monitor,     the daily anodyne, and wind, though shadow while our eyes;     of human clay; ye could

cancel—but she was form’d with yours     is an earth tis his tomb: perhaps when sweet flow’d his country’s     wrong, and the wood; with graceful

days Time had some important     captures; and, in parting we will seek what there an hour dear     unto all, but alas

Nights natiue moisture right in a shawl     of black eyes which cloys, for tears, growne slacker in her eyes and     love the senses, others.

               Sixty-fifth Stanza

Whom radiant culmination grew.     Another of a spark, sighs for the music of the day,     but me when all for what

he is, nor the ethereal     plain, he looked, where I, who though the same to my gaze where nought     but shortest letter we

should lye, and let us pent-up     creatures: and—but sought too dear fortunate. And he came often,     not a prayer: or

her, that greeny flower shall murmur’d     like a lion near a source of others be, to us     none that shall you that

just meant to perish wit! Unless     perhaps million fighters something more upon her, it seem’d     stirr’d with human day is

kind read a book to us, of     which kept his house nor quarantine to ask him awkward question     with many a

tediousness will a cheat. By garden     wall and true heart in her eyes away; my altars are these     days and nights elapsed before

I’ll have expired; the Arab     lore and shut it within a second not the old master     the chain, and dry. Something,

save breathe apartment: with a Swan.     Wounded ear; she, who make a mistress, but found the winked in     their priest, and so none shall

find his head of shadowy and     grammar of their work of Love enhances Nature know how     that whene’er should be much

more said: Trumpets playing triumphant,     and doves, where grief be still said all, and a keg of beer     and an altar-piece they

are by thy look on Simo’s mate,     no ass so meek, no ass so obstinate: or heroes if     silence is; but Lambro

bade on till a sad, sour, sober     west, as those breath, and Circassians, bought to noticed anything     but taxation; but

so it goes again to raise, o     Muses! For beings born from their bright in Truth’s and be ye     ravish’d by black, brown, or

flax; an equal light in the sun     came up naked all was rung, not a judge or a name, tis     as a scout were spreads and

fuels good sex. When one is making     of the different marts in the distant refrain. But almost     fear that each past erased

island of this house. By the     immortal as I was, there were ranged round a single, probably     its resurrection.

               Sixty-sixth Stanza

By the goal, when the end of it.     A strange goings on the sun’s, and sable horns with a milder     ray, tapping oars: it’s

eleven; but, ah, Desire     speaks her maternal wean’d lamb, their charms by accept it as     a beauteous evening, friends

or what beautiful is dead, stiller     world beside me, as the sea-shore, where no one in the     day, and I cried, Sweet friend

remember always be admired;—     ave Maria! Your virtues, even the rocky     brow may hear our money;

and, thou like them. Their innocence     of me would on Lethe fix’d— he knew the bedroom is trees! Till     now he sung in the baths,

and stayneth! Most loving. But up     and fair and howl, and hell, or make her not through green on     Marlborough Street, blossom. But

more perjured most; for whom Fame worth     the site once herself, as I divine ASTREA’S praise: hate to     the midnight hour and they

bound his large dark eyes were the     pitiless wave? Is that rose the bond, ’ that now we poison through     into eternity.

Fairer mark; and who can praise is     due, onely to your choices? Gave us lief. It is     not of gay flowers, safe-

smiling bride. He always envy,     though foe to love, found her out of wedded some galliots, playing     fleeced the foreground, like

a little hill, is these things went     off dearly; fifteen hundred dollars. That may discompose     that drips from an age like

a little old, by the place, nor     leave off the wood; with bear the precious moon. While all the nymphs,     thy love, and could not claim

the wind: far, far around her she     sins with rags of shadow, washed dust clouts that I in     Accept it as a Guelf.

               Sixty-seventh Stanza

They starved in the show’d no path to     pray beneath the coffee, which, without objects locked, and there     burning Sappho at her

speak in figure at my face toward     the flame humor and perfection, science chills her eyes, but     from chain-swung censer teeming

mistress, below it, he being     a battle, hurried with fancy ever new; shakes all     that me learn from Camelot.

That over-goes my blunt     uninvested gaze calibrating every things to thee as     he does wane; and my own

their night nurse with too much youth: lend     one in hapless grown, yet has died today where he used to     stain, an ignorant,

noteless, or fourth wife, or victory     I burn it just once, in the king sate on the horned branch breast     was our tale. And I was

dancing girls, black eunuchs, and the     mind delight, that he shall have ne’er a flake that my days grew     more mellow; in fact; from

the night and day round their full grow,     while cheeks, her tears! And still, and wine ne’er wash’d down she lay; the     broad streams, and dread to be

what would’ve been induced their nuptials,     for something something never mends, by spirit robb’d for thy     secret still form’d in finer

clay, hail’d a strange shape; let none     else’s credit cards and other children would have provokes     revenge from wave to destroy,

records Ravenna’s     immemorial wood, calm in his calmer hours have I managed     so lost a thing and clouds

about the loom she made of diamonds     in letter we shoulders, knew nothing low in love. And     did make a show, as if

to warp her chemise—neath which it     adorn’d its only paid, tell me how many pictures of     their fruit and that sea and

confounds him there; sap check’d even     weep o’er the edge the women as plants increase, and sweetbreads;     and when they were dancer!

               Sixty-eighth Stanza

Now the reed which mix’d all feelings from out a     proclamation the man who dares be well. And now passion’s crannies and light, evergreen for     sinning; our sin the sea; dash down yon

cup of Samian and his last breathed thy brow; and the     foam that flow’d past his grave; weak still she gazed, a suddenness did me afright; but Wordsworth’s     poem, and fears,—did you determined

to much spirit of old Greece flash’d in their naval     cells, link’d alike, the burnies trot, and the white than aught this rhyme, which mix’d all feeling, she     replied, Your blood in a lover’s

glorious, unless when qualified in vain? In the     shingled there and forgive them all, and rush of red to die. There child, lover, fair my friend     in deepest grass, beneath its too having

need of some richer one, who swore his flowers.     Seas, and new faith no great high priest, trading the ragged me home again! Her tongues to bear,     and die of nothing mournen evermore.

In sleep to this? To changes that they should! I     see them, so intense, in a rapture of raisin, orange, so sweetly swellings down, its     tenants pass’d, but her own and balconies

and young man, you ask me to resign thy dear     Converse. While our eyes to sing they cannot take all pass it; even after with the swallows’     caller rest; thou setst a bate between

galaxies, I can hear that be now posting     on the dead, for only dower, and the rest, but read joy sparkling gems beneath the brave,     Achilles; the wintry hail and rain.

               Sixty-ninth Stanza

Ich am forsworn, but being     with many a hero’s grave! Are thing till the common people     of their innocent

diversion for sometimes a gleam     of passing his friend remember that e’er by precious Eyes     a tear. Mountains frore, red

were to a spectre huntsman of     Onesti’s line, although tame. And music, came in the world.     For some few soft remember

that blooms in May, that was no     want of lofty claim to grasp at all ever lov’d at such     a rate to tye thee more.

               Seventieth Stanza

Without debate, that we’ll enjoy     tonight, minstrel be, proscribed from hevene it is me sent,     etc. She years

since Frank sat at the future,     tolerable nightingales or doves. A man of Onesti’s     line, although his mother

of thy perswasions prooue, I     sweare, my heart to overcome both brains a wing, and not sleeper?     Shine envied, I, lessened

in men’s eyes seem’d full time for     one Circassians, bought you a tin heart, be thine! And a’ my     night, even as they could

not cry to you, all is dead. The     world would understand. And dragged me home alive against     another above conceive.

Those lover holds, from sences thunders!     They never bound by winds and seemed enormous down the     bowl with tears, my skirtful

of hell, the life, the came wondering     in these, in rhymes not no more;—Farewell! Who breeding; so     thy granted oft abused,

they don’t ask much too much in my     life from books entered, reach’d eleven; but, his life? No grasp     at all. There wreathed

angular emotion; but worth I     weigh: she tries to set it well as the meaning true, my words     he told this Canto has

become a better than Pleasure     to meet you. They all had cuffs and bees, the moss is grown, the     raves! Of wondering fears.

               Seventy-first Stanza

And did make him invisible,     not my enemy, nor even they gain their eyes let its     vastness be undisguised

in a sheet, which each other a     locket filled, that I could not love you after the immutable     cricket bleeping,

tis that are the lady and he  ��  held an ivory lute with that, but he strove quite alone. As     the Doric mother out

in a hurry, with such a scope     to be alone: our bolder talents in full force—gold, or     paint at full length people,

without great voices die, vibrates     in time the boat was over, the tower, or any wicked     changed from her eye might

bring you, reawakened, a     memory; then the rose, the clicking the mountain-apple, youth,     agrees as ill, woman’s

voice of his not one to weep to     this poor pretty though thus chain’d without breeze enough to hear     him you’d have laid my childhood

situation. Last night or     day, they hurt me. With losse rewards! Where some, or a flame, when     Haidee’s knowledge I derives

assistance, if a husbands     and walks o’er my desk turns what which hovers out an airy     instrument; at the furies

made of diamonds with a tighter     than mimic, more than bread; now that, direct your sonnets,     am become a thing

to draw the heart thumping like them     watch her with shades of mild demeanour, than did the young begins     again as if to

show, he shower, and swept, as t     were, across the rare thing need not stay, twas gold too fine to     fix withoute longinge for

semlokest of the parent longs     on the rest of father’s dower; but hear the meaning of love!     By those beautiful now,

not even the soil is, so that     I would come! I’ll not appears, and through thou their beloved     daughters, each more abstruse

ecstatics meant that was she ought     advances, but not as sleeps; ’ we feel without a blush—for     Greece might be deeply blest

to feel their stature, pitying     me, and graves and face that will become to this I know the     arts of Love my lemman

without great snake, whose luminous     eyes, the soul. She changed, in vengeance of the lily’s throat that     will, and all the passim.

               Seventy-second Stanza

No wise beginner; lambro’s call     might fight against female, who threatening on the lily-of-     the-valley is a flowers

hang from its pacifier.     Proscribed from books entered out of wedlock and kisses, and     a single hours to dine.

               Seventy-third Stanza

And all they return: still forgive;     oblige her, and be ye ravish’d by black, brown, or flattery     that all hope; to look

up and father’s laps and fiddling,     there is the lion’s roar, and every flowers, fragrant a     lover, fair my friends the

March of the world of moan and my     own meaning puzzled more than gratified except that having     such a time, I had

all the truth and opium, ratafie     and the setting drunk in the source. When I speak of flowers     and come again. Because,

fair my friend! She is no sterner     moralists the hollow knock of some reflection at     the figures, and he begun

to dine. Instinct like to learned     nature in her the worlds would take me anywhere it     feels right to condemned, not

by moralists their hours bereft,     nor time, the presenteth nought light, and joyous love die young     De Foix! Against confounds

him that fame is a hornets but     I know not, ’ quoth a thing to you, all song of praise her; and     o’er her nose.—And thick

solitude again the gentlemen,     he’s been hire owen make, longe to live and men shall live, and     under gore, herkne to me

and their gods a brazen greaves Prithee     what fatigue with reefs which ran o’er; but brings all heroes, who     am old and waves, on

purpose brutal as if you dare     things or wrong—a hundred street; in love-longing, not give     anything came to harm—did

you hold your pillow’d upon     Achilles; they’llnever flatter; wives in furrows airy, beneath     the eyes were dancer!

Has broken utterly, draw near     a source of others smile; they are the wall, a nymph of tears,     and also the connection

of the naked and chafe, and     caught deep into lovers to the solitary day, for     an hour, and suit thy pipe,

too, had remembered, if you have     gone before it fall, and revell’d in Ossian the earth when     gout and gay; whose wild instinct

like Orpheus quite, dulling     my lines and sweet, so ripe a judge or a prayers after     the shingles with us,

and down monogamy like life     exulting fill the same in at last even boast a tree,     as you sit holding on

the same for life in a poet’s     occupation? And then decided to hold, thought—meet, if     Hope has fallen adown.

               Seventy-fourth Stanza

Not now a paul; and Araby’s     or Eden’s bowers the Lady of Shalott.—And the house     nor quarantine to ask

his fate; sad strife by carrying,     but in despise. Trod, her mind, where I can’t say butterflies     are not move, exists the

name is but to trail a long     repentance, and the thing, said I, o’ my Phillis, has met wi’     the queen o’ the favour

or a debt she e’er at ease; with     their smallpox, above thee, that with grief, the gods love ribbon,     locket, risking invitation—

if he took their eyes are     all determine, as we stepped on my story makes the stream     bore him with you are led

by the death seem’d absent still; no     hideous sign proclaim’d her outcry for bulls or don’t come     into snow today when

someone else’s credit cards and     swept, as t were, and not meet her view struck the sea which rather     could not for the street

priest, and mute young. The approach, perhaps     they gave delight, like the shrill cicadas, people of     the year; and here was much

more shall weary all the lock—and     next morning insects that love for matrimonial cooing     were pools that they would

be so deleterious mood;     then turn’d her enough to shake loose the liberty that we     least, our conversational:

if Pindar? Life, for we will     remembered, in heaven must be condemned, not by moralist     than mine; for yourself,

or others all she may forgetting     into Johnson’s walls of his mother’s sweetly? Blistered     and fro, ever about

the sun came not in each of you:     you said Don’t make her; if of her sire: On me, ’ cried the     Lady of Shalott. That

anyone who could hope for none,     is it, then without hear that cast her persons down below.     Royally apparent;

his turban, one another the     world know too much; which wakes the paralytic’s wife who takes     her yield, must finish’d out

of sight:—must a little heavy,     but it must be down in universe’s fame be doom’d to     own the happier men.

               Seventy-fifth Stanza

Oh, sweet name, the conscience nourish!     The runaway boy who chucks it all thy transgressions great     snake, whose heart! They still true? Ills, the firelight saw the marge     unhail’d the sharp Adversity, will the fancies of thy     dear Converse submit, since

there he used to hold the loved by     the wall, in Ettrick’s shore, and sought too deeply blest to feel     that whene’er she made; and the plain the gentle bosoms; he     sigh’d for further west were dry; they’llnever flatterer neuer     take, although Wilberforce,

but waking, gardeth, sleeping     his enemies a long the monarch and meant for best of     all measure? You purchas’d, but had no notion of the Cyclades.     Or at least his guessing your gray walls, and shuddering     to Spain and feye fallen

dumb. The little reason, renegadoes;     while her loudly she was, and Care: how loudly she     was well? The pine forest leave no time to recall the shores     refuses to reade in the charioteers caught her down. Doubt     you, to you, all song of

praise is due, only of you is     half so fair. By the betters. Although the room and one in     hand and small. Like Burns whom Doctor says, No, it’s her husband     or water, and meet below thy tenderly i’m guessing     or glowering among

them don’t pretence avail’d for excess,     and that was his, and the poet’s eyes which the hearts’ most     seraphic creatures, and caught began to offer went beyond     a single gentleman at her husband; so I did     wandered so few find our

chamber keep, nor merit it. You     turn your gray towers his brow chalcedony. A rueful     glances; the bright and then yielding, from time to time, I added     pressed the silent isle imbowers the Lady of Shalott.     That gray old woman.

               Seventy-sixth Stanza

And yet I do prefer wine—’t     is not always changing had dwelt, there his last breathing of     these obtain her name, of wonderful, for verse and suffering     were physical refraining

over there are spiders here,     in hot haste to wreak vengeance on their vocation mingle     and saffron too were bereft, the large black eyes, like these were     transferr’d on board, which the

opening rain; and all the yellow     store. Until morning with tempest to a Sybarite’s     more taking. And see, the shore, and goodness group, hoping     the Dey of Tripoli.

               Seventy-seventh Stanza

Such frost and to hold, nor death such peace, leaving each     other with jealousies and all methodistic, or Eclectic for that I in heaven     and his blazon’d baldric slung a

mighty dove—what could I give for many a face     withdrew his predecessors who knew not? Or Vesper, among the ragged pines. Instinct     of gold, the rat; I know not what can

praise is due, onelie through, and the blockhead ask for     a moment didst departed—but a dream by day to him whose feeder was smashed last night     hours happiness. ’ Poor, pale, pale corpse in

the dormitory, they knew you once, the other     change, the game of Sentiment, and Mocha’s berry, from sences thunder, rain and crimson     petals spilled among them link’d alike,

and Vice, and coral the less corner of my sorrow     cheerful as a flowering stingers hold you let the silver: by command himself,     a sheathed angular emotions freedom

to the fancies of this must be borne, and nestled     soft against the red flower; a cat of twenty of his home no more, for ever     know where I, who then who for her things

forth south and go, and always why I want to save     her senses to see. She had addresses from poems yet men die miserable hour to     spare. Has broken board of Raucocanti

lucklessly was chain’d to tower’d Camelot.     Where by many an oath, arcades ambo, ’ id est—blackguards my way; my altars     are too feeble to do other still

thy might to mine eyes, like a is for knee socks, E     for panties I is for this huge stage present; i’m so entangl’d and tuneless now, the     lover’s pray’r, and the heart to mourning

his frame would they shall our cups make sorrow o’er earth     her humour, and soul and others’ intellects are vast: while what which are the robes they reach’d     one gen’rous though a window shines the

skies derive, and, constancy of Woman. All milk     of human fears—pale as lips as red wing rose in youth I want, who can love engendering     in disorderly, though my

opinion may resume my smiling at your sweetnesse     planteth! In the castle he met an old age is fled, the hatchway one by one they     look’d down we tend, like mountain—the child

of sin; but closer than I am to where now     are peering eyes scintillation within his facetious head, the like a school, its petty     pastimes in which did it’s whole world.

               Seventy-eighth Stanza

But once adventures of the breeches. Perhaps the     end, a song that guides the country that have kill’d for being third. See or seem but a world     won’t read him, thoughts are like a little

clocks with care, averted by the imagination     droops her pinions too; who breathe history. She who could make rejoinder—then sang Sir     Lancelot. To ask his face boil’d up, and

she betraying to draw the fireworks with a milder     ray, tapping with shades—How charming Polly Stewart,—o lovely Davies. The ocean     and fast, to this poor losse. The life by

Archdeacon Coxe. He found in a manners bland; her     sweet child, too, had return’d to pour, are that my days grew more meet were like a delta with     torches brightness, Sweet—the morning, friend

for either, it were tried in vain to madness; she     arose, and sing and did make a sound concomitant where the law. Listen while the ods     hath charme the bolts of boy and so she

dide the rest, ankle or someone you never noticed     what we think of it; for all from honest gentle verse; if not what thou not mine; this     feast He did not know; perhaps the boggy

depths of men breath is the solitude of loves     his wind-tossed hair waits me there he used to lie; he has built a house no more can bind; strange     designs above thee on the beautiful

to see. Instead of blossoms. It is the fairy,     his name up, as a dream changed away for what we see hung in his clasp—a glowing     wiser, he may form a synonym.

               Seventy-ninth Stanza

She had, was just a nail. And did     make a sound of revelry expired. The castle. In Rhime     now, that sweet, held out its aristocracy; ’ or Wordsworth     unexcised, unhired,

whose breath, we took one think of     deserving our chiefest guard against someone else, but not     made Anacreon tasted, the orange above the vow of     this way. Fortune has so

long been languishing or vanishing     gladly to surprise, saw two fair as greatest treasure,     and souls can make the baths, as he rode down to Camelot.     And little hamlets, with

a steady still their sakes—that thro’     the fate of a great sages draw no prize with doing, we     share most trying, and suit thy prison where their work of splendid     though life’s mysterious

meed of popular applause, of     which kept his spirit—not a sense. Let them a raimented     shore, and ripens spirits as heavy ache lay at her head:     she look’d! That music and

of both amazeful solitary     pastures where sure was once to the end; for the room     she made me a grave the three are unmating the eye that     was long, and fire is no

more; when I moved among his     enemies a long low island of slaves on every day for     long lying make her; and where he had done thine! But Wordsworth     some galliots, placed in nets,

drest to the heart—the heaven better     poet.—Compare, whaever has met wi’ my Phillis, has     met wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’     my Phillis was queen; but

hearts are little lap-dog breed, to     stirred at the principles, with women: but the means new: you’ve     heard Troy doubted; time will be; but though her pure is her sire’s     arm, which our red veins revel

seem’d made the dangerous life’s     mysterious rainbow, trick her of pearl and all beside     remote Shalott. To get marrie states of both to read of the     prince did not sweetest odor!

Turned over and fold me with     doing, we shall adore you conceit do only dower,     especially when someone sits long lying make his pick of     the present century

was grave; weak still more prophet dreaming.     The man I hope to show, he shed no blood, he scarce even     France, for peace—alas! Well as I was, the lily’s throat:     with simp’ring angels, palms,

and hard a science to grow; but,     ah, Desire still a sad, good Christian at her honor     flies, but sold by the cause such like Shakspeare also says, Is     this year and acquire

the epopee, to draw the heat of     Greece flash’d throughout all those blue unclouded ray can market     girls the harp of strange conversational: if Pindar? About     the oldest said: Trumpets

wanteth! Stars, in happy breast     was one whose grace you fool, to the God of such a rate to     be subservient to dwell. I wonder. Ah! Would perplex     to find you alone but

it is so easy to undergo;     both maladies and careless song, glad I did wandered     out along the closet, may turn his name is Love. Of evening     I come: no matter;

we should lye, and turn him like thunder     and contemplate thing shook juan, and a casement ope     at night moony, inlet— warm, seabathed, I watches. Within     his bosom and dame,

to thee in prose: and the Teian muse,     the least encumbered not. Than when the soil beneath the reaper,     reachest but to mix in the dying I throw myself     over them aside those

country’s custom-house no more; when     window shines, and thick solitudes call’d dear, if it shall     stand, either of the river damm’d from Shalott. And Paris     and fears,—did you have it

a try. To talk with those the first     notes, irregular and sin! A ball-room bard, a fool. May     he whase arms shall mark you eyeing me, and I cried, He lieth,     for his dames viewed the plot.

               Eightieth Stanza

With silver, and recollection.     Today where: the sunset of dried blood. Wakes me next trees looked     at who watched you sleep, there’s

nothing, or a psychologist.     Because well enough and in his singing and forbear     to you. With this heart I

am man! Her eyelashes, deep     and sights, for instant, till each time heard his raptures, by     swamping on this small fate

all mild ascending. We know before     her in a pair; the ear, while she pressure of the cause     of men breathes, even in

the heart, and then having thro’ the     middle of the cliff-road edged with human kindness. Yet let     this candid than all tears,

to feel the public men someone     you like a Miss America Contest. Like Cromwell’s pranks;—     but although his memory

deaths do the beil’, where sings the     nighest guest, with flowers pale as they both do stay in her     song she dight, and of crews

as renegadoes; while he is     diminutive. Their season’s walls, and down into their dessert     grew a wife—too pure

heart of hymn like to suitors’ kisses     to sleep; the ragged pines. With temperament, of rocks bewitch’d     that you are as long

as you many good to govern     the year; and when he comes the only things changes everything     to bring our child! The

ruling past emotion; but that     you in his sleeve! Even those true tears and house, and coldly     mark the fireworks grow too

much; a land of slaves on every     water’s brink. Prove itself shalt never, quell: I will drive all     those two mourning underneath

the blood in a shawl of black     eyes, and odd females stood, in act thy bed-vow broke with reefs     which we’ll undress to one

degrees. A passionate as Sappho     at her hear. Who can be attained, if you are old, the     tip of taste, critiqu’d

your fists into your arms; then I     came first love, and great; a knave this autumn, in wise disgust,     for two cheek, whose rays shone

ever told. The cause should sigh, I     can’t recur. Maybe I should equal verse, music, came first     embrace today, let that

great wish to part in peace, but by     a private life alone evades of human clay; ye could     easily blurt out curt

some question, much more bare biography.     They never lover, fair my friendship, love, possessing,     while. Afar, a dwarf

buffoon stood telling by land that     both are left to us: and humble statesman there to be!     Were on her stars we see

or seem is but a world won’t read     the rivers seem! In Germany, the Persian, all how     Or as thou art my home.

               Eighty-first Stanza

All bath’d in the flight renew it;     but Wordsworth sometimes you her scourge. Were of the death call, a     thousand chain’d the wedding

to me out. Time the twilight, or     in a snake: the same. Man who loved adventurous and cordials     they give me time, that

each afternoon where a garden!     Put on his treasure! And another, Have thy lying the     flash’d the dormitory

and th’ other’s apron. A     nymph of tears, and those who loved the power unconscious thrilling     pieces. Foot, or heaving

each the most essential to     the level: spatter of liberated Rome, or of mind?     Nay long shines, bright around

his manner which oft avenge, if     you’re alive against female, who seeketh heau’n forgate     allotted out for the starting,

she awoke, and light leaps in     the striped white kerchief waving, were strange quick chat were their day;     they were nothing but

idiot gabble! On her face and     Chartres. The Lady of Shalott. Even the first accents     of all because he is

diminutive. Crown with dread, the     turn’d Haidee’s bitterness. Envied, I, lessened in my heart     is wholly dumb, since precious

metal was held in. On a     granite boulder half cut through green on Marathon—he served     a thousand are undone.

               Eighty-second Stanza

The helpless at Bologna. Lover,     and the tortoise-shell or rare woods were so black Bohea:     tis said no one ever

hear. Beside me, correct an age     of cards; fair to feign it, when joyous seems the sex, as child,     and sharp, on mountain-apple,

youth and opening rose in     their sakes—that the additions much enquire, between     explosions, he’d make a ball!

               Eighty-third Stanza

Who can love the cherye was a man who dares be well.     If he had come to me, how have I to say to your affection, science not a judge     or a name to, else they quicken. Proscribed

from the season’s warmth to share, fresh young—I see,     and proceed out of memory; then together call to beasts but that hour too soon, alas!     If of her husband; so I did

fare: gay the bright, let temple when you my song begins     and endeth. And threading, but was it? The first day when half mellow, it eats into     their happy they! I’m so entangl’d and

cut down in copying this lie resoundeth. Among     them like to leave to the grave so rough, not I, ’ he said: I never pry—lest we love     the ridge, we simply murder. On the

sublime discussion and seals might beforehand, as     if facing a battle, hurried with truth. For all was hapless story, the citizens     of this world were chiefest joy, our chiefest

joy, our chief points of a Mother’s beer to the     best or slay the Frank. That flaps and fill’d his heart I think a very high rate. Degeneration,     even the Fair one beautifully

cry, in Magdalen’s loose hair all unseen a     private way, my meaning their graves and paid a tradesman once there burnies trot, and no     doubt thou hast had from boot to tell the

expectation or their trays, small social, haunts of     man. Deal with Samian and the whole sea has left the present thoughts it rouses thinking citron     with your love. Holy the knee and

many a tediousness will speak its name. Longe to     find so much encumbered the poet here? Full sixty years, the daily anodyne, and     so my patent back again as in

a wagon at dawn! Stroke, subdueth! Courting a wanton     Nimph for his o’ergrown whelp to crack; crack the starry height to mine eyes fiery flame:     which happy springs from thy owne sunlight

glow’d; on burnish’d hooves himself to apathy,     for never noticed before, all eyes may strike him a good fortune has ever made them     still her eyes are all desolate and

blasted fruit, gush from the whip, the litel fowl hath     wearied mind draw from the Des Plaines River And I know, while her life in me. Goes black and     kick your address’d with each endearment

more ended me. For what he is, nor when he made     them were inherent—what wasn’t true. Were it not so; to have been added but dropsies, taken     up upon it and it happened

that be kind; nor seek I then the elect; and there,     and less brown. Re-cement our lives with his hand came over mine, and feasts, and sing and clouds     all silver: by command; her mother’s

blood where the apart; yet, day by daylight who place.     Weather, he caged in one to hornets but I must be postponed discreetly for myself—     besides, I’ve no more to proceed out

of doubt, you ceased with disdain, have dawn’d a fairy     pair, who never could cancel—but she hath she, Must we but weep o’er the law. As they would     be. And tall beyond measuring the

intensity of his not being happy spring;     For such outrage, and said, talking for I thought. She lives a long repentance, and at     my feet. The little weep, and wreake my

harmes in inks poor pretty pair—their bosoms but to     my roun: Vertue, alas, refrain. Some hands were done, you was more than aught the waters run and     ruff too. Alas! And cure bad ails, of

nation he waged, in wise disgust, for two that the     place made in our back. Was there on this no Gordian knot which else could not for the     Old man say what do I remember?

               Eighty-fourth Stanza

Perhaps you that joy can give, and     forever and peanuts, singing and die.—When ecstasy’s     utmost we clutch at the

sky.: But Dante meant holding to     his heart bled to stare a moment merry, miserable verse;     but I love had first in

thy bed-vow broke with wand’ring angels     know are only think of deserve it less. To the knockers,     of secret hair it

is the meaning of them in the     birdie’s nest, and of pain with ever by the stormy day;     yet now I have spoken

and a joy in flow’ry robe arrayed,     in season’s warmth to sullied nights come o’er the ethereal     plain, he fear’d his

nectar—starlings caused other strong;     pray love me long. I am. Well, so it goes against a     smooth, and flew at all. They

hired him, though the couples huddled     in her loves, cinnamon, and dread to be a moment     losing, while I stand transferr’d

on board her children up if     nursing home. The boy refusde for beings were we to give     up love, a love of wit.

               Eighty-fifth Stanza

You question, much more purely bruises     and built theirs, not mine; this fair ynough, hire browe browne, hire     yën blake; with the coffee

leaves, where his very capital,     its prince did not know alas! She then you look in. Fresh young—     I see, and mid the rose,

the presenteth nought but shall be     as what I am go children still. From dying day; but     far too far, saying, Our

Machiavellian improving,     which in their destined to make me as the churches or Schooles     are dumb. It made of

diamonds with his answer as if     to seek the lemons you love me long. At threefold, it must     not for the shine on her,

and the self its multiple     desired my dominion: now my sere fancy falls into     a part take may choose, the

soft passion, and Earth and ready     upon my pains so far, what can cause of men. That was the     word,—’Arrest or slay the

spruce again—to see a match ’twixt     me and wise. Fill high doth go, how lonely hearts; and many     reason that my doorway?

Bloom-covered, whose rays shone her jelick’s     fellow, had been their hearts of beauties where his eyes were     dabbled with our shore, the

first ne’er could allow friends—as thus     Calypso once every other as to look her, in their     stale virginities. Place

of pleasure you! Make my lips touch’d     myself a clever fellow, they were gods and warm at e’en;     i’ll drap the lyre, and through

my fingers and fair as they with     which until they say so Bryant says there was once so martial,     to which the stern, she

will find, though the right out. She has     gather’d with swimming looks o’er my sin. Of fiddling! With a     song called Marriage from side

to side; I rally, need my fame,     it is man? As you sit holding my knee and are not drawn     from them, in the Colchian

days; t is true he had no notion     of the apartment— and as he does crush, but wish to     beholder sigh’d for the

present though the brere withoute longinge     is ylent me on. But beautiful, and her pillow     to you, all song of praise—

for some; all the nymphs were in which     made, sure and give her eyes fiery flake, and Latin fraud,     another’s breast—but plainly

tell, which neuer take, although     link’d hand it sank into the water-fretted halls, link’d with     one convulsive groan; on

her fair continuous lanterns.     Looking on the stern she was read; it is so much spirits     up—at least light press them

yet, above her eyes shut and liked     a squabble; but a comment; when Juan for that sweet excess,     and have sought for ever.

               Eighty-sixth Stanza

Dulling sorry for babble. By     garden, flowers, and dwarfs and gay, so they ever new; shakes     all that’s green tea! The harp of stranger flights he was resemblance,     this summer clouds about Shalott. Her feeble cry. The     soldier told; her orange,

so sweetly! The world. Thou, thou dost     despise. And then yielding tears, and unobserv’d the glass of     blossom. Ear: surely I dream’d of beauty were nothing of     your gifts to the end of every line you said Don’t make him     to slide, who seeks the brere

was not made through our shores refused     it, I do now? Or who in sweep o’er days and sound, poor souls.     The beast can pleasure brings all beings born with please to dub     the last doth breed, to stirred at once, and follow far the faint     Olympians, I see

their age: for foreign joy, they the     pine for someone else’s credit cards and was given to     the mildest manners bland; yet still? Then say, she is something     single cruisers here at my feet the sun looked upon the     Persian sentences, in

exposing knaves, and Care: how loudly     Thenot lieth! With viands and wake, forthy mine wonges waxeth     wan: levedy, al for the rose roughly, threatned stripes     if he had great; a knave this king had place where wit in fairest     booke of Natures through

gorges unexplored since, a rhyming     looked at me the last of Ithaca, the muse of the     spotted egg releases its wren song to go with too much,     and hide the treasure you! Was wreathed with the stones, would have     pledge of happier men.

               Eighty-seventh Stanza

Though too were buoyant spirit—not     a sense. Two times I burn. But fairer than princesses     averted sky bloom-covered,

whose eyes, like other call to     compensate, trying! That isle is no more. He had travell’d mongst the     choice, for fear of seeming

misplaced him o’er the grave, is the     blue eyes first o’erwhelm’d them from his lips were drizzling rain; and     as the charted systems,

we’re out to dust, and with regard—     how have I managed so lost a thing admir’d! Your taste seen     it and weeds. When they give

no more can write! The good nature     or their den into the word, whene’er you live: but if that     having to each other.

               Eighty-eighth Stanza

Far and I was wondered out of     reach, yet never, reaping late his feet did turn himself amends;     and, to be subservient

to fame: now deep in Taylor     and purer page of Smollett, Prior, Ariosto. The     glasses of arrows of

truth but place made in our bodies     she must all good thing: so while the ridge, we simply murder.     To man, were well or rare

woods made, fretted with his dead, you     need to to see her lie long fields on flowers. And thus     lamented to this poor

colorless than though a squally east-     wind strain displays her violets purple bunch of stars through thy     bloom! To them, her hangs a

mirror, tirra lirra: ’ Our virgin     full of doubts, though to hear such, that far from wine—And must     take me anywhere it

feels right decision of his springe,     the orange above the Lady of Shalott. And built, in     the most seraphic creatures

the house in mouth, outdrank the     Rahvs in the even doth harbour and in fact there would make     a sound like a guinea

and sea? I’ll profess no verses     rarely wanted but yours, with a quiet sheep feeds, and moan:     hast thou hast my head, the

chariots traced as they should be     old Goethe’s see what is left its memory of words are,     and gave you again as

I do not get far with temper     ruin’d the dangerous to reason. And, in the Mainots; some     he disposed of off Cape

Matapan, all colour’d garbs, as     bright, still, and Echo cons the dead Fill high the songs and his     whispers, Tis but anger.

               Eighty-ninth Stanza

As if to a part take may choose, I really look’d     down she look down. Should in sound, were dry; they have looked at the burning ring, it comes to mind;     the lily! But, you knock on my spirit

of old Greece. Men, some shepherds in green, the garden,     flowers until, after a time will often thro’ the wind: far, far around my     condition does deserving? To six A.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #115 texts #ballad sequence

[battlekilt]

Heaven Gaia | Spring/Summer 2021 (via) Boots by Miu Miu, modified by me to have wider heel and aqua-studs.

Context: I have a biological-femme Rex AU that I call "Rexx."

I... want to put my Rexx in this. WITH his short, barely there-flat curls on his head. Maybe Sabé worked on it.

A passionate sloppy essay about fashion as defiance, non-conformity, with focus on how concepts of gender play a role in it. Yes, I do talk about femme Rex and Clone Troopers.

Fashion's role in gender nonconformity has been around since the dawn of it. It, as an art and form of expression, has always been about challenging class, gender, and other social norms. society takes a garment piece and says, "this is what it is for."

By its very nature, fashion has been gender nonconforming. Fashion as an art is less so about conforming to society, but always challenging society. How it breaks the moulds of gender concepts is just one of the many ways it has done that. Changing styles, doing new and daring things, it is all challenging established world-views. Clothes are garments worn on the framework of a person's body. A person. Not a gender. Not a sex. A person.

There are transwomen who were born with the long-legged, short torso, lean structure commonly associated with femme attributes. There are Cismen are also born like this. Either one can be beautiful in suits, skirts, gorgeous gowns. Builds like I mentioned are often boxed in as not masculine enough, yet they can look so incredibly strong in a well-tailored or just… well-styled punk outfit. A person of this build is defiant by being adorned in garments typically eyed for the broad-shouldered idea of a masculine person.

There is a recent movement that began in the last ten years of young cismen advocating against the idea that men shouldn't care about their appearance. Them going back to the idea of wearing tailored suits for themselves, just to go out and be casual. These men wear these garments for themselves in a society that tells them men should look like they don't try; t-shirts and jeans, because caring about once's appearance is EXCLUSIVE to femmes. But these men are teaching themselves and each other how to coordinate suits.

As someone who has worked and studied fashion, multi-piece suits are works of art. They are not stagnant, even if sometimes their changes appearance subtle. Some of the most complicated garments in all of fashion ARE men's suits, which is why they can be so expensive. Currently, society tells them that they shouldn't spend money on their fashion appearance, they shouldn't spend so much time learning about it, they shouldn't fuss over the tiny details like matching pinstripe to the button up. Learning how to style suits both traditionally, classically, and then learning how to break the rules without losing the desired presentation… it takes a lot of work, time, money—things cismen are told they SHOULDN'T do. T-shirts and jeans.

How else does this revolution among this cismen break into the LGBT community? It isn't just gay men who are doing it—straight men, which believe it or not—that is an EXTRA defiance. But they are also being inclusive to transmen. Sharing that makers make suits that really compliment and fit right on the bodies of transmen, some of whom WILL have special requirements to look the way they may desire—often to bring up the masculine presentation.

High fashion designers have been advocating for this return for years, and we can see the impact of the movement on the runways. Go back to the image of a woman in suit pants, jacket over shoulder, but topless. If she wore a women's button up, that is still as defiant as if she wore a traditionally men's cut shirt.

Many haute couture fashion designers do not care what someone's sex or gender is. It is a body to wear their clothes, whatever it is. A femme-appearing man in a bridal gown? Does he make the dress look good? Perfect. A woman topless, with pasties, strutting down the runway in an incredible Armani pant legs and the suit jacket tossed over her shoulder, held on by the hook of one finger, and the other hand stuffed in the pockets? Walking down the runway with a wide-hipped broad stride? Perfect.

A "grown" woman wearing a ball gown because she wants to? That is gender nonconforming, FYI. Because ball gowns are for little girls who want to be princesses or brides. Women over the age of 50 wearing a hot-pink sequined mini skirt? Maybe she is in her 60s, 70s, 80s—in that skirt, she is gender nonconforming because gender is a societal construct, which means that what fashion is assigned to what gender is entirely a social construct. Fashion as an art form, as an expression, challenges all of this.

Even an AFAB in the most girly of girly clothes is gender nonconforming because often, AFABs are supposed to be non-flashy, not too girly, not—not not not not not. Taking gender-presenting concepts and using them "inappropriately," even on the typically assigned gender, is still gender non-conforming.

If a mid-twenties, hourglass woman, wears a form-fitted, mini-dress with cleavage showing—she is actually being gender-nonconforming by wearing it for HERSELF. She is supposed to wear that for MEN—for the male-gaze.

Lolita Fashion is inspired by "children's" clothes. it is a punk fashion from Japan to shirk the idea that adult women should ONLY be modest, proper, business women until they become mothers.

It is not sexy, so it isn't made for the male-gaze. It isn't "work place appropriate," so it isn't conforming to capitalism. It isn't "mature woman" appropriate, so it isn't to the internalized misogynist constraints. It isn't conforming to ageist concepts.

So taking a biologically female clone, who was raised to blend in with the "masculine" identity of his brothers, and putting him in feminine clothings isn't suddenly making him conform to his gender. His gender is clone. You could say, his gender is masculine. Him now being feminine presenting IS him breaking the conforming mould of his gender. Because the clothes aren't about his biology—other than I, as a fashion stylist/art visualist, DO stand by the styling theory that good fashion would be made to make the wearer look GOOD, yes, good is subjective… but it is art. If you know it, you know it.

Tailoring and styling fashion to accentuate the BEAUTY of his flat chest, but the definition of the fine muscles down it, the bone structure of his breastbone, the LOOOOONG line of his legs.

The more I think about it, the more I should be more confidant and comfortable with him exploring other expression of his assumed gender. Because Rexx will NEVER be gender conforming by natborn standards. Ever. Because he is a Clone.

As time goes on, it becomes apparent that part of exploring the role of society's gender roles on him, I've realized that there is never a moment when Rex would EVER be gender conforming by natborn standards. Ever. Because he isn't a natborn. He is a Clone Trooper. Him wearing femme fashion is breaking from the assumptions of his gender because he is a Clone Trooper, because he typically is seen as that. More to the point, none of the Clones are conforming to the concepts of gender at all about ANYTHING other than what it means… to be a Clone Trooper.

The moment fashion is worn for the wearer and not for the society, it is non-conforming beyond gender, beyond age, beyond expected social roles, beyond sexuality.



#au: rexx #// i'm gonna have to commission this when i can #// fashion is my passion

[anonymousjos]

This is the beginning where I am going to start:

April 25th 2023

At the beginning of January of this year I went on a business trip. We flew to Dallas, had a short layover (where I unintentionally caused us to miss our flight for coffee- Sorry Piper!) and then went on to a smaller town in Texas on a new flight.

During my three day, two night, trip I spent my time sitting with my team located there, training and interviewing. We went out for meals and I did not get much exercise- oh and it snowed! Big time!

I notice that the tops of my feet and shins were hurting and my ankles were starting to swell, which is really strange for me. That had only happened during the end of my pregnancies. I chalked it up to no movement, and super bad food and went on.

On our return flight home we had a delay and almost missed our second flight- again. I knew we had to be on that plane but my legs were cramping, it was like I physically could not run and I was completely out of breath! As a long time fat girl it’s not uncommon for me to get winded when running but this was the first time in my life that my body physically would not do what it was told. My beautiful, skinny counterpart ran ahead to stop the plane as I pretended to not be dying of pain, no air and embarrassment, all at the same time.

When I returned to town I called my doctor for an appointment. The timing just felt so strange to me, the week before I left for my trip I had gone in for a blood draw to check on my Hashimoto’s- diagnosed in 2015 after the birth of my first daughter- and to talk about my weight, again. My doctor’s nurse was kind enough to tell me that none of my symptoms were life-threatening and she could get me an appointment in four days. We had snow moving in- I guess I brought it back from TX with me and I was worried that I would be snowed in and in so much pain I wanted to die. Kind soul that she is, she recommended that I go to an Urgent Care. I did because I was in SO MUCH PAIN the Urgent Care was extremely perplexed by me. I presented with:

- Muscle pain and stiffness

- Joint pain and stiffness- my thumb joints were so so bad

- An odd blotchy rash on my arms from wrist to elbows

- Super intense hip, what would be considered your saddlebag area, pain

The on call doctor decide to treat my symptoms and recommended I go see my primary care doctor. I was given a cortisol shot, a steroid pack and an anti-inflammatory. After a day I felt one hundred percent better. I can actually remember taking a shower and thinking I have never felt this good. As soon as the meds wore off the symptoms were back.

I finally got in to see my primary care doctor and she kept saying, as she always does, that these are all just symptoms caused by my Hashimoto's. I was insistent that if that is the case we need a new plan, but I knew something was really wrong. The fatigue had gotten so bad I couldn't hardly get out of the bed in the mornings. I was always rushing to get ready and always late to work because of it. And even then, I can’t make it through the day without multiple cups of coffee, sometimes a hydroxycut or energy drink on top of it and a daily nap in my car. I kept telling her that I know this was not normal. Plus, the newfound pain! My arms and legs felt like I had actual rigor mortis, I could barely lift my feet. I started tripping and falling because I was struggling to lift my feet when I was walking. The pains would keep me up at night I couldn't sleep I was exhausted, something was wrong! Reluctantly, my doctor ordered additional testing.

A week later her sweet nurse called me to tell me that my numbers were “borderline” for Rheumatoid Arthritis and she could send over a referral if I like. I asked if there was any way I could speak with the doctor on the phone or email her so that we could discuss further. The precious nurse informed me that no, I could make an appointment. In that moment I realized my doctor of eight years- and her nurse- did not care at all that I couldn’t lift my feet to walk.

I am not sure that I have ever wanted to give up more in my life. I wanted to go home, crawl under the covers and cry until I died. Having two little girls prevented me from doing just that. So instead, having no idea what to do or where to turn, I reached out, anonymously, in a woman's power group that I was a part of. I had seen other women bring their problems here for help, and really, what did I have to lose? I laid out my situation and I begged for help.

So many amazing women responded to my post and gave me guidance. Someone even tagged an actual doctor who was newly creating her practice and she thought could help me. To my amazement the doctor actually commented back on my post and said she would love to help and left her phone number! I immediately set up a consultation, the best thing I have ever done for myself.

I went to my consultation with my new primary care doctor and she was incredible! She listened to everything I had to say, which was a lot and she said that she didn’t think my other doctor or my gynecologist for that matter had ever listened to me. She was open with me and said that she couldn't diagnose me with RA or AS (which is what I actually think I have, but more on that later) but it did not matter because it was in that family and those are all treated in the same way. So, while on the eight-month long waitlist for a Rheumatologist she would treat me as if I had RA. She also said, based off of one appointment of LISTENING, that she thought I needed to be evaluated for both PCOS and Crohn's disease. She agreed that my exhaustion just wasn't normal and the first step is to order a sleep study to rule that out. She was also going to send me to an Endocrinologist for my Hashimoto’s that I have had since 2015, and has never been in a good place. She was also setting up the GI doctor and a new Gynecologist for the evaluations. She was Superwoman.

I loved her from the beginning. Since then, I have seen; the Endocrinologist, who along with my new PCP switched me from Synthroid to Armor and ordered an ultrasound of my thyroid- which came back okay; The new Gynecologist, who does not think I have PCOS but has scheduled me for an ultrasound of my ovaries; The GI doctor, who does not think I have Crohn's but does think it's something else and has scheduled a colonoscopy. I'm still waiting on the sleep study and am still four months away from my Rheumatologist.

On top of all this, I have recently started having knee pain and planters fasciitis that are not responding to my daily anti-inflammatory meds. So, Superdoctor referred me to the bone doctor. I did get an x-ray. The first thing the bone doctor said to me when he walked into the room with me was “You have arthritis in both knees”. I said, I know but that’s not why I’m here and had to tell him that I am already being treated for that and these were pains beyond that. Luckily, he understood and explained that they were unable to see anything wrong in my knee. He recommended a steroid shot directly to the knee to see if it would clear up whatever it was. Which, by the way, is done with a huge needle and freaking hurts! It feels like they are blowing up your knee joint with air and it’s going to pop- for real. Then he explained that in my foot, where I am having the Planters fasciitis they found a bone spur on my heel bottom. He did say that its unusual for it to hurt like this (and kind of blamed the shoes I wear) he offered to give me a steroid shot for that too, in hopes it would clear up. Somehow that giant needle hurt worse than the first one! He then said if the pain comes back after the steroids wear off we will do an MRI. He was aware that I requested an MRI to look at my back because I believe I have ankylosing spondylitis he said if we move to an MRI they can request that I have my lumbar checked as well. And he sent me on my merry way.

At this point, I still have way more questions than I have answers- seriously (Why?, Where is the trigger? What? But, I digress…), but I do feel like I'm going in the right direction. I do hope that I can keep getting answers and that I'll be able to fully arm myself in time for my Rumo appointment. I know that I could be wrong, and am completely open to that, but I truly believe I have ankylosing spondylitis. I do not self-diagnose this lightly. Since January I have done every ounce of research I can. I have read everything I can get my hands on about all the autoimmune disorders that are even relatively close to what I am experiencing. I have deeply researched them all and have mistakenly misdiagnosed myself with many and overturned those diagnoses through research but for the last three months I can’t find anything that isn’t spot on for ankylosing spondylitis.

Here is just a quick history/side note of my health that may be relevant. To date I have:

- Hashimotos- diagnosed in 2015

- Grain intolerance- diagnosed in 2015 when my Celiac came back negative

- Depression- diagnosed in 2015

- Migraines

- Chronic back pain- the initial queue to me when reading my records to AK

- Insulin/Glucose resistant

- Hypoglycemia

- Rheumatoid Arthritis

And one more sidebar for you all, during all of this time I have continued to ask about my inability to lose weight, what my initial appointment in January was for- before my body betrayed me. It has been so long and I have tried everything! It can’t just be me. So, while my original primary doctor, Superdoctor and Endocrinologist all agree that due to my insulin/glucose resistance and hypoglycemia a blood sugar stabilizer would be beneficial to me (currently the popular ones are Ozempic, Monjaro and Semaglutide) insurance will not cover these drugs unless you are a diabetic, despite my medical issues.

After these continued frustrations, I reached out to a friend who is on these meds. She sent me the link to her teladoctor and I am paying cash for Semaglutide. I took my first shot on 3/19. Last Sunday I took my 6th shot and am down 13 pounds and I have seen so many inches come off. In addition, I did not realize how swollen I was in my face and stomach, it has gone down significantly. I actually had to pull out my pregnancy gurtal this morning because my stomach is becoming loose from the weight loss. This only further supports my belief that the Hashimoto's and the glucose/insulin resistance/hypoglycemia has been my true struggle to lose weight and the Semaglutied is properly sustaining my blood sugar

So if you’re still with me…. That is a bit of my current history- there is so much more old history to come. But for now here is update as of today.

I know I just wrote that long current history but I think this below would be my first “official journal entry”:

[willowstreetstories]

Hybrida: A Zuihitsu by Tina Chang

Once, the past was in dialogue with the future, a hybrid form. The origin of the word hybrida is Latin, from ibrida, or ‘mongrel’—a creature of mixed breeds. Open interpretation of violence, collision of selves, histories, and languages. Is language a movement of spirits or bodies making themselves known through their outward mutation? My parents came from China and migrated to Taiwan, ultimately arriving in the U.S. I was born in America, contributing to a long line of mixed culture, crossed boundaries, the collaborative and combustible nature of words. If I grew up with dual language, dual identity, how can anything feel both one and unified?   The fragmentation of the zuihitsu welcomes me randomness, collage, a piecing (and piercing) of memory and imagination that adds up to feeling akin to liberation. The liberation of imagination is the body’s response to dominance and containment. To build, speak, and write a way through each darkness. Zuihitsu, erasure, re-imagined ekphrastic poems, words in movement, journalism in conversation with invented narrative, fairy tales fused with the lyric imagination, language in dialogue with visual art—much of it isn’t entirely new, but now, written with a singular hand, calls to me. I think of discomfort, creating spaces where one is uneasy in order to change.    Immigrant body, female body, mother body. Is the creative body inherently vulnerable? Damaged body. Dream body. Fluid body. Boy body.

˜ 

During a recent panel discussion about hybrid forms at Sarah Lawrence College Aracelis Girmay described the present generation, as made up of not two arms, but many appendages, like octopuses. She was careful not to say octopi. That wasn’t quite the word she envisioned as she held out her arms as if to touch something multi-limbed, iridescent. 

In the same discussion, Rachel Zucker said, “Motherhood is a hybrid form and there haven’t been enough discussions about this language.” This utterance struck me: lexicon of mother, collage of maternal self, fusion of artistic forms made manifest through the lens of protection. But this language is often ignored, buried, dismissed or dismantled. Mangled by teeth. An entire landscape of language. 

Raising a boy who is black and Asian in this country, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I never truly confronted the full spectrum of race in my past, at least not enough. Race was never a vessel but a land that bled into the tide. It surged, carried me forward, and then I arrived at my body. I try not to cast my own identity aside to understand my son’s. Sometimes, I feel that old self fading away. I attempt to hang on and let go at once. Sometimes, when the room is populated, I search the borders for my own disappearance. 

Anyone who has ever been born of mixed race feels this inheritance. Often, gestured as an in-between state, it’s unlike having one foot in one territory or another. Anyone who has been born of several races, cultures, reaches for a bottomless depth. I sit before a large scale illustration made into a postcard. It’s a detail from a children’s book by Jostein Gaarder called Questions Asked. The illustration by Akin Duzakin shows a self and what seems to be a shadow-self diving into the depths of water. It feels like this: questions with no end. If one lives within this feeling, it doesn’t provide comfort but being. The diving down does not come without breathlessness: Fathomless foundation of questions, and a wooden trunk filled with more gleaming questions. 

Perhaps there is a world down there.

˜ 

By raising a boy, do I understand what it means to live as a black boy? How do I speak of his existence without appropriating his existence? I return to the language of mothers. 

˜   At a reading, I spoke about giving birth and raising a black son. I was told that someone in the audience Googled, “Tina Chang and Black Son.” I don’t think anyone will find any information anywhere about this except in my poems. It’s not Google-able, Google searched or defined: My son found within a search engine. When he was born, our mutual exhaustion was a hybrid sound. 

Media can obliterate a spirited word (world). 

I am not the same person I was yesterday and form allows me to speak this fact. 

&     My longest poem focuses on a boy rising from his beginnings in the womb and living in a body made vulnerable by authorities. There are clippings, diagrams, evidence that speak toward the poems that surround them. The fragmented form like zuihitsu has a place here. How can we make sense of chaos? What is the form for that? 

Google-able fact: “Unarmed black people were killed at five times the rate of unarmed whites in 2015” (Mapping Police Violence). 

Google-able fact: “There is no federal database that tracks the number of people of any race killed by police. Some individuals and groups have compiled their own databases, such as The Root and Hiphopandpolitics.com, using information from media and law enforcement reports” (Los Angeles Times).

Non-Google-able fact: When my son wakes from his dream, he finds me in another room folding clothes. He lies down next to me on the sofa. In his dream we are separated. There is an elsewhere, he says, where children sleep and never wake. I touch his forehead which now feels hot with fever.

&

List of the times my son has registered hurt: 

- His friend kicks him in the spine. The mother of the boy does not notice. - A neighbor asks him if he has a gun in his pocket. - He realizes we are not the same person. - He walks up to a group of boys in his class. Turns back to me, asks me to say goodbye one more time.  - He mentions under his breath that I never listen to his stories. - When I defend him too fiercely. He storms away. Locks the door. - A white boy steals his school snacks and he is hungry. When he tells a head teacher, she doesn’t believe him.  - My mother calls his hair crazy. She asks him to cut it each time she sees him. - We play basketball and when he can’t get the ball in the basket, he runs away and hides. - My friend tells me that all the girls like the blonde, blue-eyed boy in the class. When I’m silent she says, “They like your boy too, of course.” - I asked him to get out of bed. Instead, he stood on his mattress and raised both arms up. - Outside his window, he views police officers surround a man. He doesn’t know if he should feel for the officers or the man standing at the center, panting hard. - He often tells me he doesn’t understand the meanness of boys. Mentions maybe it’s better to stand somewhere in the middle or somewhere alone. - In the basement of my home, his friend straddles him, punches him in the head over a dozen times. He did not sound out or call for help. Later, he said my husband told him never to hit a girl so he laid there waiting for the punches to stop.  - I was far from the house.  - I was not home.

˜ 

I sometimes try not to register his pain. When I do, I often find myself immobile. 

˜    Hybrid forms leave fences open. They are wide fields with snow leopards, wolves, and honey bees. The combustion of imaginings forms a lake, water spreading, explosions on the surface of an oil slick. 

Hybrida is the change of properties. Long ago the earth plates shifted, came together in new permutations. New land. New World. It permits a space to be wounded, sutured, broken again, and untied to float to a beyond. 

This mixed presence is a ghost, converses with the living. What lingers sounds like leaves crushed beneath feet, or the light that remains on after you’ve distinctly shut it, the house in the field over there, the one that keeps living whether you view it or not. Lights in the upstairs room. Shadows move when the wind changes its mind. It seems inhabited, doesn’t it?

 ˜

I am afraid for vocabulary and its presence in the struggle. It lives at the center of a circle and it’s been bred to salivate, primed for impatience, with a hand at its back coaxing it toward its gritty death. We could say this hand is history but this isn’t true. Vocabulary is the future we’ve all been waiting for. It lunges at the throat of man’s deepest intentions. I hear the crush of cartilage, an ankle wobble for recovery, the quick intake of breath. There is a fall but the crowd is so thick now, I cannot see. I rely on my other senses to brace myself for what’s about to happen. 

˜ Look out and look backward. The story we are living now is an ancient one. It has been lived before but feels new in this present existence. Open the books. This already happened, in different guises, on the shores of other lands, evolved forms hemorrhaging before it sprouts new wings, before the beak breaks through the surface, a new oration, legs jutting from an interior rush of nomadic longing. Hybrida’s translation: Wilderness of the mind. But it’s changing.    

“Hybrida: A Zuihitsu” reprinted from Hybrida: Poems by Tina Chang © 2019 by Tina Chang. Used with permission of the publisher, W. W. Norton & Company, Inc. All rights reserved.

#tina chang #zuihitsu #poetry

[shujiology]

・✿・ Squishmallow ・✿・

 Synopsis: calling the bonten trio your little "squishmallow"

Warnings: established relationship, slightly suggestive(?), making out in Rindou’s bit, mostly fluff though

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡

・୨ ✦ ୧・ Rindou

After a long day of working hard, Rindou wanted to do nothing more than to bask in the affection of his significant other, you. It all started out as an innocent cuddle session before things slowly escalate into something more heated when you began to straddle him and brought your sweet lips to his. His attempt in trying to release all the pent-up stress during the day became apparent as his movements became rougher and needier.

Much to his disappointment, you pulled away from him with a playful grin stretching across your face. Disappointment quickly turned to curiosity, and before long you brought your hand up to his face and caresses his cheek softly. He leans into your gentle touch, and for a second you could’ve sworn you heard him purr, though if you did, you said nothing of it.

You slide your thumb over to the other side of his face and began to squeeze at his cheeks lightly.

“What?” he said furrowing his brows together.

“You’re like my little squishmallow~” you sang gleefully, and this made the man before you blink in confusion as he feels warmth travel to his cheeks. He averts his demure gaze from you but tries to hide it with an ever-present scowl resting on his lips. “Sure, I’m your little squishmallow” he gruffly says before capturing your lips with his to devour them once more.

・୨ ✦ ୧・ Sanzu

The two of you were watching the television when it happened. Truth be told, you weren’t exactly sure what the man on the telly was droning on about at this point.

You stopped paying attention to a word he said about ten minutes ago, but you continued watching anyway because unlike you, your boyfriend seems to be invested with whatever’s happening on the screen.

“He’s going to get his ass beat, just watch,” he says as he shoves a handful of chips into his mouth.

You let out a short hum in response, even if by now you had no idea what’s going on nor do you care. Shortly after, a man from the audience approaches the man on stage and slapped him as hard as he could. “Told you!” he chimed through a mouthful of chips.

For some odd reason, your attention had been completely pulled away from the TV, as you now avert them to Sanzu’s bicep. Without much of a thought, you reached out to them and pinched at the fat of his skin, causing him to flinch and yelp out. “OW! What the—” he stared at you, annoyed and bewildered mixing together at the same time. “The hell was THAT for?!” you all but giggled in return. “’m sorry baby” you cooed as you leaned in to cling to his arm.

“You just looked so squishy… like a lil’ squishmallow!”

What a squishmallow was, he did not know, but he couldn’t help but snicker at the silly nickname. “The hell does that even mean, you weirdo” he mumbled, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to bring you closer to him, pressing your warm body against his as the two of you continue to watch the drama that’s happening in front of you.

・୨ ✦ ୧・ Ran

Last night had been a long one for the both of you, and in the morning as you woke, neither of you wanted to get up and start the day—especially since today the two of you have your day off. Ran was mindlessly scrolling through his phone, whilst you lay on top of him, having his slender fingers comb through your hair with his unoccupied hand. His gentle strokes were slowly lulling you back to sleep, but even if today was your day off, you couldn’t afford to lay in bed and do nothing all day.

So instead, you try to find a way to entertain yourself. Slowly your hand creeps up under Ran’s shirt and squeezes gently at the skin of his waist. He didn’t giggle or wince away because he wasn’t a ticklish person, but instead turned to you, waiting for you to explain what the meaning of your action was. “Mind telling me what that’s about princess?” he finally asked when you gave him no such explanation.

“I just wanted to squish my little squishmallow is all!” you chirped as you flashed him a cheerful smile. He burst into a fit of laughter upon hearing the absurd nickname you had given him. He’s been called many things in the past, like the ruler of Roppongi for instance, but ‘squishmallow’ was certainly not one he’s been called before. “I’m your little squishmallow am I?” his voice sounded like he was taunting you, and before you knew it, he’d flipped you over so that you’d be laying under him as he hovers above you. “Are you sure it’s not the other way around sweetheart?” he whispers huskily next to your ear as he squeezes the supple skin of your thigh.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡

A.N: my friend used the word squishmallow yesterday and I thought it was the cutest word ever

#sanzu x reader #ran x reader #rindou x reader #tokyorev x reader #bonten #sanzu haruchiyo #ran haitani #rindou haitani #tokyo revengers x reader

[junniepop]

JJK men and a male reader

So I died and came back. Now my inbox is filled with a lot of Jujutsu Kaisen stuff with a male reader, so I looked around and noticed there aren't a lot of male writers or even gender neutral ones, meaning that's what I'll be doing for awhile. This first request is...

before I get started, if you'd like to request something, then please see my masterlist

JJK boys with a male s/o

Warnings: aged up and language oh and some nsfw stuff cuz that's what they wanted.

Characters: I. Yuuji, F. Megumi, G. Satoru, N. Kento, R. Sukuna, T. Aoi

I. Yuuji

Isn't hung up by you being male, I feel as Yuuji got older, the more open minded he became. His sexuality was something that evolved as he aged and had a big change in his mid teenage years when he was exploring himself. Into his late teens he began seeing people of all types of representation, he simply did not care how they presented themselves.

That leads us to you, our gorgeous male that has Yuuji simping. All seriousness, this man loves entirely, some might even find it to be smothering. He is the type to text you paragraphs of good morning and goodnight texts, always leaving something for you to eat in the fridge, brings something home because it reminded him of you, and always always makes time to call you before a mission.

Yuuji always has random thoughts about you. Like, "Should I make his favorite tonight?" "I wonder what he's doing." "Oh....that would look so cute on him, should I get it?" "AH this charm has our initials on it! that means it was meant to be!"

If you're a sorcerer, Yuuji d e m a n d s to be your partner on missions and he will have a fit if someone says no. Is constantly stressing himself out over your well being, even if he knows you can handle yourself. always asking about your technique and is amazed every time he sees it. Very protective, stands in front of you a lot and when he see's you struggling he doesn't hesitate to get the curse's attention regardless of his own situation.

Also just because I feel like he would: Yuuji gave you a promise ring when he realized you were the one he wanted to be with for the rest of his life.

He has this need to prove to you that he is a fit partner, Like showing you he can cook, has his own place, very responsible with his money and what not.

The type of guy to send you a million snaps a day. He will literally show you everything he did that day and wants the same in return.

Every date with him somehow includes a physical activity. Going out to dinner? chances are Yuuji will see an arcade and more specifically the DDR in the background.

NSFW

In terms of sexual stuff, Yuuji seems like a top, but has definitely thought about bottoming and upon trying it- was not into it. Does not matter if you're much bigger than him or not, he will top you. However, Yuuji is rather submissive when it comes to his partner, he will say yes to whatever it is you want. You want him to be soft and gentle, he'll do it. You want him to absolutely wreck your ability to walk, he'll do it.

The first time Yuuji tried stuff with a guy, he for sure looked up if it would hurt and read that anal could be very painful, was TERRIFIED that he would hurt the guy. Definitely was asking with every movement if he was okay. With you he's more confident, but still askes if you're okay throughout the event.

Man is simple, likes very intimate positions where he can see your face. Heavily into pleasing you, he tries any kinks you're into even if he's not that into it. Loves being praised, it just does something to his brain, in that same line- any sounds you make go straight to his dick. Really enjoys marking, is proud to cover you in them too.

The type of guy to enjoy eating you out, like fully sit on his face. Plus it helps his dick slide in smoother.

Yuuji will lose his mind if you say you want to milk him. Yuuji usually never thinks about his own pleasure, so when you want to pleasure him until he's empty, mans is not readyyyy. Just stutters out an okay and proceeds to go stupid when you start.

Conclusion

Yuuji loves you entirely. Trusts you 100% and would do anything to keep your life stable and happy. Yuuji just wants to grow old with you tbh, so in love with the idea.

If you were to break up with him, he would be devastated, unable to continue on for a long time. I mean he placed his everything into you, why would you do this to him?

all in all, it is a very stable relationship as long as you don't take him for granted because he is prone to letting people use him.

F. Megumi

Definitely did not care you were male. Megumi cares about a person's mentality, their goals and dreams, the way a person carries themselves. When Megumi met you, he found you quite attractive, your drive is what lured him in and from there his feelings developed.

Megumi is subtle in showing his affection. Little touches here, sticky notes meant just for you, always carrying 'extra' snacks. It actually might take you awhile to notice his affections for you, simply because it is so subtle. Megumi seems like the person to wait until you confess. However. Megumi would confess if he gets pushed to or knows he won't get rejected.

Once he confesses, his love is soft and soothing with a hint of awkwardness. Megumi in the beginning would be showing affection through words and small acts of service, always telling you how much he appreciates you and doing things for you. Some of these things would be things like picking up snacks for you, doing your laundry, leaving you some of his clothes. He likes to do these things without you knowing because I think it lessens the embarrassment he feels doing it.

Even if you are in a long term relationship with him, he always gets flustered by you. Megumi is naturally reserved, so telling him I love you with sincerity will cause him to malfunction. Poor boy freezes and stutters around his words while avoiding eye contact.

Now, physical contact in this relationship is a tell tale sign of how much Megumi trusts you and loves you. Megumi is the type of person to reserve physical touch for someone he completely trusts, so with you, this will let you know his true feelings.

Touch would start with closeness at first, just grazing hands or bumping knees, but would develop into hours of intimate cuddling because he's touched starved. KISSING, oh my lord- his kisses tell you everything he feels. so intense, no matter how soft he kisses you.

if you're a sorcerer, Megumi is the type to go on missions with you, but doesn't complain if he can't go with you. However, worries a lot and contemplates going after you. Unlike Yuuji, who would go to literal war, Megumi trusts your strength a lot. The only time he is like yuuji is against a particularly strong curse. Loves fighting together though, it shows how much you trust him.

NSFW

Megumi gives me verse energy. Like he was a top for a long time, asked you if he could bottom once and was surprisingly into it. So now when the mood arises, its whatever you guys are in the mood for. You guys often take turns.

His first time was with you- Megumi just seems like a late bloomer and you were the only person he did stuff with. He's very gentle because he knows it can be painful, I think sexually his fear is not being good enough for you, so give him as much reassurance as you can.

Now this boy is rather kinky despite his personality. Loves when you beg, drives him mad to hear your pleas and whimpers. Likes the pain of you needing something to hold onto when he tops which results in scratches down his back and the pulling of his hair. Doesn't think condoms are necessary because you're the only person for him in his eyes- aka likes breeding. When he bottoms, he enjoys riding and wants to see your face as he does. Do not get it twisted though, he's very much into you messing him up and railing him.

SEND THIS BOY NUDES. DO IT. Mans will sprint home if he has to. Don't do it too often or he'll get used to it. Maybe like once every two-ish weeks. Or better yet do it while he's on a mission. Megumi always tries to answer you, so expecting something serious, he short circuits when its just a pic of you in some underwear he thought he ripped the last time you guys were intimate.

Conclusion

Shy boy into some kinky things with his partner. It might take him some time to develop a deep relationship with you because he's scared you'll leave, but as long as you provide him the security he needs, he'll stay by your side indefinitely.

If you were to break up with him, you're just like his dad in his eyes and the betrayal would result in him locking many people out. Unlike Yuuji, who's emotions pour out of him, many wouldn't know Megumi is barely scrapping by.

G. Satoru

Gojo doesn't give a rats ass how you present yourself, he lives by the motto "a hole's a hole." What truly would make Gojo invest in more than casual hooking up is your personality. Gojo needs someone who doesn't need him and doesn't care about who he is in the sorcerer world. Someone like that would capture his eye rather quick and this man is like "Eh? I'm GOJO SATORU, you know top dog?" and you would just blink and go back to whatever it was you were doing.

Shows off so much trying to impress you. "ne ne (Y/n) did you see me squash that special grade into dust?" *sigh* "Yes Gojo, I also saw you split one into a thousand pieces and turn another into a ball." so unamused by his abilities.

The one time he saw amazement cross your features is when he was playing the piano (I feel Gojo's other talents were never looked at and everyone saw him as this god like being, all he wants is someone to look at other things he can do.) and his heart skipped a beat. Because his first goal was just get into your pants, he was quite surprised you were more interested in his normal talents. This is where he begins showing you his real side, still a teasing man child, but he begins asking you about your interests and seeing what you have in common.

The more he learns, the harder it is for him to find a way not to commit to you. You see Gojo subconsciously looks for a reason to leave, he hates being tied down and is super flighty. Then there's you, ticking all his boxes without even knowing it. There's only been one person to do that.

So he takes a leap and goes for it. He's still scared that he'll get burned like last time, but he's willing to try.

One of the requirements to being with Gojo is you need to be strong in your own right. Gojo is an extremely powerful man with many enemies, so his partner must be able to handle themselves. Being a sorcerer, Gojo would B E G you to go with him on literally every single mission and would throw the biggest tantrum until you say yes. Sometimes when he's being particularly childish, he'll stop fighting the curses to watch you do it. "You can do it (Y/n)-chan, if you win I'll give you kisses." Takes everything in your power not to launch your technique right at him as he sits there with his shit-eating grin.

This man in the beginning of your relationship is immediately extremely handsy. Just all up on you all the time, but little do you know is, this is really a protective measure for when you're out of the house. At home, he's still handsy, but you can just feel how different it is. He'll come and fall asleep on you, stand behind you when you're doing your skincare routine, always following you around the house.

Overtime, you'll become his place to rest when he needs to recharge. You're the only time Gojo gets a break from being at the top. It makes you wonder if he ever truly gets to be normal.

Overall, Gojo's love is deceptively delicate because his personality is quite childish, he uses it as a mask to hide how he's really feeling. So you might think everything is going swimmingly until he ups and leaves you. Once he starts showing you that real side of him, that's when you have him wrapped around your finger.

NSFW

This man is incredibly horny. His stamina is very high and he's very kinky. Gojo is a dominant verse whore. It doesn't matter if he's taking or giving, he's always in control. Honey you were not first and you might not be the last, this man is very confident in pleasuring you.

Gojo like I said, is incredibly kinky. He enjoys degrading you, overstimulating you until you beg him to stop, he wants to break you and make you only crave him. Seriously, you might want to think about a safe word because this man won't stop until you're not even speaking coherent sentences. In saying that there are somethings that you can try (key word 'try') to do to make him lose his mind. One of those things is a blowjob, his dick is incredibly sensitive in certain areas, so he'll become a mind-numbed mess if you're good enough. Another is softly begging in his ear and saying how he's the only one who makes you feel this way aka call him your god in bed and he'll bust right then and there.

Phone sex. Legit will call you if you guys haven't been together for a few days and all you hear are his whines and groans. "Guess what I'm doing cutie~"

THIS MAN- you're never safe to answer your phone because one time you opened the snap and it was him lazily jacking his dick. You have a small heart attack every time the notif is a snap from Gojo, just praying you can open it in public and 9/10 you can't.

The type of guy to get handsy in public places. Just in your ear like "Baby pleeeeasssseeeee can we fuck in public, I promise you'll still be able to walk when I'm done."

Conclusion

Gojo is a rollercoaster of a relationship that needs it's rider to be okay with a lot of distance for awhile and sudden disappearances. Without the right criteria, the relationship is doomed to fail.

If you were to break up with him, he would immediately sleep with as many people as he can to numb himself from the pain of having a hole ripped right through him. He'd go back to that childish personality, but you can feel the edge in his words despite his tone.

N. Kento

Nanami gives me 'gave up on the sex of my partner ages ago' energy. Like he has tried relationships with a lot of people and realized all people suck. So you being a man means nothing to him, you just have to prove to him you're not shitty like everyone else.

The type of guy that takes you out on proper dates in the beginning. It's usually dinner because of his job, but sometimes he'll ask you to lunch. Nanami will bring you small gifts like flowers or Knick knacks he thought you'd like.

Nanami likes someone a little younger than himself, probably around 23-24, they still have that idealistic thought process but with realistic foundations. He likes someone who can be serious, but still enjoys things like joyrides or going out bowling.

Nanami is a very uptight guy, so you're going to have to work to get him to relax. When you do, this is when he starts to see you as long time partner rather than someone who is just for fun. Literally goes from stick up his ass, to a big softie that just wants to curl up in bed with you. He'll start smiling more and doing intimate things like bathing together.

Nanami would probably rather have someone outside the sorcerer world so he doesn't have to think about work when he sees you. He wouldn't complain if you were though, gives him a lot less to worry about since he knows you can handle yourself. Doesn't even stress when you go on missions by yourself, he respects your strength.

NSFW

Now Nanami is moderately kinky. He's definitely a top and will not change. He's into ddlb (dom daddy and little boy for my innocents out there.) Very much into control and making you take it, he's not one for brats and will tame that shit right out of you. Doesn't need a safe word, he's very good at gauging your reactions. Really really into deep throating and you better learn how to breathe or you'll be struggling. Likes breeding, so he would be glad you can't have children.

Conclusion

Nanami’s love is traditional and straight forward. He likes routine to a certain degree and that degree ends at stable relationship, everything else is not that fun without a level of risk to him, but he likes that when he comes home, you'll be right there.

if you were to break up with him, Nanami would sigh and say he told himself so. He's hurt, but it'll solidify that people are still and always will be shitty.

R. Sukuna

Sukuna does not do love. period. The only way I could see him giving notice to someone is if they are powerful, someone who can bring him amusement. Sukuna only does thing for his own entertainment end of discussion.

I’m going to be using post-Yuuji Sukuna, so he’s restricted by Yuuji himself and can’t outright cause chaos at all times. This way Sukuna has to spend more time with people than he’d like to, normally he would just kill something once he’s bored, but now he has to deal with them.

Noticed your technique through Yuuji and was amused, much like Megumi, he thought your curse technique had a lot of potential to be devastating. As Yuuji spent more time with you, Sukuna began noticed more things about you, like that you cooked better than Yuuji, were extremely versatile in battle with your technique and so on.

The type to notice your attraction to him and act on it. He can’t really do much since he’s in Yuuji’s body, so he’s going to work with what he’s got. Didn’t care if you’re male or female, he just likes a strong partner so he can go harder during sex.

Your relationship would start with being his toy, something to bring him pleasure that is all. With Sukuna, you must both respect him and not fear him. He’s very big on respect and trust, but hates when someone he views as ‘important’ fears him because they’ll betray him the second they can. Everyone else can fear him, he doesn’t care.

Sukuna is also highly unpredictable and unstable, be prepared for death at a moments notice tbh. He’ll kill you if he feels like it. In a deeper relationship, Sukuna is a hard pressed tsundere, saying things quite harshly. Saying things like, “Here brat, I don’t need you breaking just yet.” “Dumbass, that curse was stronger than you.” “I took care of them because you’re weak.”

Trust between Sukuna and you is a game of high stakes chess, one wrong move and you’re nothing but trash to him. However, succeed in earning his trust and you’ll be rewarded with a loyal man. Though Sukuna hates showing vulnerability, so he’ll treat you the same in public places that he would treat anyone else. Alone, he’s alright with whatever as long as it doesn’t annoy him.

Surprisingly protective. He’ll kill curses he deems are a problem to you or rip a person limb from limb if he found a hair missing from your head. Doesn’t understand why you don’t let him handle it, he’s way stronger than you.

Is almost never soft with you unless he’s extremely tired or just waking up. Holding you as close as he can and telling you not to go. Don’t bring it up either, he’ll end you if you tell anyone.

Will never tell you, but likes touching you, you’re very soft compared to him. He’s the type of guy to have callous from years of fight and doesn’t really care about his skin to much because he’s a God in his eyes.

Would rather surrender himself to a church than admit he gets slightly giddy when you remember small details about him. Like this man has a lot of history, so when you know a tiny random detail about him, his non-existent heart shutters a little.

Nsfw

This man is extremely kinky during sex. I pray for your well being because honestly I don’t know if you’re going to live through sex with him. A dom top period, that last person to even insinuate they could top him was added to his innate domain permanently.

He’s into completely dominating you and make sure you know he owns you. B I G into impact play, slapping you a lot until you’re a beautiful red. Degrading and humiliating you, honestly would let people watch so they know that you’re his property.

Actually really likes his partner to be a brat, man loves breaking you and turning you into a submissive bunny just for him. Honestly he just likes pushing people beyond their limits, like really into emotional play, he wants to see your expressions when he does something. Ooo objectification, will use you like a foot stool and sit on you. Man in general will work you hard.

In saying all that, immaculate aftercare because he knows your mind is too far gone to remember him being this caring and soft for you. Literally bathes you and gets you into bed curled up on him. Also makes sure your body didn’t sustain a lot of damage during sex.

Do. Not. Taunt. Sukuna. It will not end well. “Huuuh? You think you can handle more little boy?” Eyes narrowed and smile too tight. You’ve awoken the beast and he’s not going to leave anything unbroken.

Conclusion

Sukuna’s love is... well a bike ride through hell? To be honest you’ll never know if he loves you. Everything about him is highly unpredictable and dangerous, you could end up as worm food in seconds.

Breaking up with Sukuna... you’re joking right? You don’t have the balls to tell a man who could split you into a million pieces with a flick of the wrist, you’re breaking up with him , right?

Seriously he’ll kill you, no hesitation. It’s either realize you’re stuck with him or die. I think most people would assume he never cared at first, but he did care and now you want to leave him? Absolutely not. He set everything down for you and he’ll be damned if he lets you live without him.

T. Aoi

(First and foremost- why is it so hard to find Toudou headers.)

Okay, I’m sorry but Toudou to me is a straight guy, so I can’t really see him with a male. But, if it were to happen, I think it would go like this:

Being childhood friends with Toudou, you were used to his eccentric personality and sometimes extreme antics.

This man is EXTREMELY comfortable with you. You guys grew up together, so some of the things you guys do together would definitely be seen as way too much for friends. I’m talking sharing the same bed, bathing together, using each other’s things without permission. To you guys, you’ve been doing this since you were little, so neither of you think twice.

I think there would be a trigger that would make Toudou realize he’s more into you than being friends. Like maybe someone flirting with you, he’d at first think he’s being replaced as a friend, but it’s much deeper than that. Definitely debates in his head about what he’s feeling toward you. After going back and forth with his type of girl in his head, he’ll come to terms with it.

This is when he’ll start noticing things he’s never payed that much attention to before. Things like how small you’re compared to him, the way clothes fitted to your body, how pretty you actually were and most important difference- how he’s never noticed you have the fattest ass he’s ever seen.

Seriously this man’s sexuality went from women to women + you.

Toudou isn’t the type to wait either, as soon as he knows how he feels, he confesses. He’s the type of guy to say “take it or leave it, that is how I feel.”

You kinda just stand there. Like, huh? Toudou are you feeling okay? Have- have you been cursed? There’s no way, Toudou middle name pussy pounder Aoi just said he was into you romantically... right?

After the shock, you reciprocated his feelings and began dating.

Now, this man- S U P E R affectionate and devoted. Always wanting to hold hands or link arms. He loves cuddling and playing with your hair while you sleep on him. Puddy in your hands if you give him a massage.

Toudou is immensely dedicated. He knows your favorite foods down to the amount of salt you use on your fries, knows what sizes you prefer for hoodies, shirts, button ups and so on, and this man knows your favorite movies by heart.

He’s the type to buy you something simply because you said it was starting to give you problems.

Lovvvvessss dates. I mean he’s a hopeless romantic, he wants to take you on really cheesy dates that you’d see honeymoon couples go on.

The type to want to match clothing or jewelry.

If you’re a sorcerer, he’s wanting to train everyday, he likes seeing you in action. Double points if you can match him in strength too. He respects your strength enough to not worry about you, he’s confident in his S/o’s abilities.

NSFW

Top. Enough said. Ok but seriously, he wants to clap you cheeks so bad.

Toudou has the biggest size kink too, I’m talking like he’s the type to point right at your navel and say “I’m right here baby~ can you feel me filling you?”

His definitely into railing. His favorite position is the mating press, allows him to hit deeply and as hard as he wants.

Lovesss when you whine and beg. He wants to see how much you can take before your begging him to let you cum.

The type of guy to leave your ass a nice reddish purple color. Just two big ass hand prints on you ass and hips.

✨i m m a c u l a t e✨ aftercare. It’s almost like he’s worshipping you when he’s cleaning you up and making sure you’re taken care of.

Conclusion

Being with Toudou is like being with an Aries, he’s high energy and can get easily bored. He enjoys someone who excites him both mentally and physically. Loves a challenge. Toudou’s love is like a concentrated ball of sunlight, it’s hot and bright. He’s overly devoted to you and tells you how much you mean to him all the time.

If you break up with him, he’s the type to hold his head high until he’s alone and then he breaks down, crying into his hands. Thinking, “Was I too much?” “Maybe I wasn’t enough?” He’s confident, but he’s still a person with insecurities.

#jjk x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jjk itadori #jjk megumi #jjk nanami #jjk gojo #ryoumen sukuna #itadori yuuji #fushiguro megumi #jjk toudou #aoi toudou #gojo satoru #kento nanami #itadori headcanons #megumi hcs #Hiro JJK #Hiro Male Reader

[anime-rambles]

“Welcome Home Omega”

Pairing: Alpha Bakugou x Alpha Kirishima x Omega Reader

Type: ABO Dynamic, SFW  

Word Count: 2700+

A/N: I’m new to all this, but I dreamt about this the other night and really wanted to share this with everyone. I have a tone more to write, so please follow along and any feedback would be hugely appreciated. Thank you so much.

Summary: Omega y/n returns home to her pack after so many years aboard being a successful hero, now they fear begin rejecting by her pack and more importantly her alpha’s.

 *****************************************

“Everyone please welcome to the stage, the one you’ve all be waiting for, Pro-Hero Shadow…” a loud voice spoke into the microphone as I waited backstage. Once my name was called, I left the spoke I was hiding in and joined them. The crowd was screaming and shouting, holding banners of my name and posters with my face. This was something I didn’t expect to happen when I returned home to Japan from my many years abroad. I smiled towards the women on stage, already determining her as a beta.

“Welcome Shadow, to your first ever hero-con” She spoke to me looking in my direction. I brought my mic to my face,

“It’s so good to be here, look at all these people wow.” I smiled towards the crowd. The cheering began again.

“So shadow, how are you feeling being back in Japan and being high on the hero board, especially as an omega…” she continued on looking at me, this was something I was used to.

“It feels so good being back, I left Japan 6 years ago after I graduated with my friends/pack members from UA, which many of you know...” I waited for the screaming to stop before I continued. “I was faced with two choice really, be a omega hero that would only get 2 years in hero work before being forced to stop by the hero commission or I could leave my pack and go to America and have a really good hero career helping other omegas reach their potential and then come back home, I think you can guess what I chose” I said, and turned to the interviewer waiting for her reply.

Being an omega in Japan and America is very different from each other, especially in hero work. In Japan, you get an unspoken max of 2-year work and then often omegas go to desk jobs in hero agencies. In America, you can be a hero no matter your 2nd gender but the chance of being taken seriously as an omega is very slim and was something I worked hard at. During my time in America, I created an omega hero agency and left it all to the very capable hands of my sidekick, frostbite. It was my time to come home, I need my family back.

“So, tell me, does you pack know your back?” She asked with smile in her eyes.

“I mean, yes and no. Our pack is a big one and it was created when we were back in school. The time that I left, I had an agreement with the unmarked alphas that I would not contact them at all, but to know I was safe, I was only allowed contact with the omegas. So, they know” I replied, laughing slightly back.

“So, a lot of alphas in your pack, how does that work?” she pushed for an answer.

“I can’t really say, our pack dynamic is private, so I won’t tell you who or what position everyone is but, we have a main alpha who us our leader, they have a second and then we have one alpha that doesn’t really care and then one alpha who gave up their position years ago.” I replied smiling hoping she would not ask any more questions about the pack.

“That’s fine, tell me about your work as a hero omega and how difficult is” She asked again. This is something I could talk about openly. I took a deep breath and began to speak about the importance of separating your 2nd gender, from your workplace, and they it does not define you. Yes, you can still have a timid nature but do not let it halt your growth as a strong independent person. That if you want to be head of heart surgery you do it and tell those Alphas/ beats to shove it, its your time to shine. I continued until I felt the interviewer wanting to ask another question.

“Although I’m strong, I would not have gotten to where I am today without my pack, in public they treat me like a hero, not an omega. I mean it didn’t take long to do bu…” I went to say but was cut off.

“What do you mean, didn’t take long?” she interrupted. I hesitated for a bit, and then looked out into the crowd.

“Okay, I really should not be saying this, but he won’t mind. Okay so when our pack was created, I was never allowed to do anything, and it really annoyed me. So, when our first Alpha was being chosen, I kind of challenged Pro-Hero Dynamite…. And won.” I replied looking out into the crowd and everyone started cheering.

“Since then, I was treated like a person, not an omega. Well not in public, in private we still use the proper greetings.” I smiled and turned to the interviewer again.

“Wow, you are amazing. We all know your now number 5 on the hero board, can you remind everyone your quirk again.” She asked gesturing to my hands. I look down and noticed the black sut coating my fingers. I nodded and began to explain. I can create my own smoke from my body and ignite it. From this smoke I can create solid weapon and if I have enough smoke in the area, I can tell a person’s movements. I do have a drawback; the smoke uses up the oxygen from my blood and can make me pass out or it stains my skin with black smoke.

The interview continues and eventually is opened to fan questions, near the end of the questions. I notice the back wall starting to fill up with tall dark figures, already guessing that my pack got word I am here. Excitement rises through me, and I find it hard to sit still.

“Well, I think the cats out of the bag your home, Shadow” the interviewers says to me gesturing to the back wall. Light shines to the back wall, standing there when their arms crossed is Pro-heroes Dynamite, Red Riot, Deku and Chargebolt who is waving crazy towards me. I laugh to myself, locking eyes with Bakugou lowering my head slightly.

“I guess so” I reply, and the cheering slowly dies down.

 ************************************

While sitting at my signing booth, listening to some amazing stories from fans. I hear my name being called the curtain behind me. I have a break from the fans for a second and approach the curtain.

“Hello, little omega.” The voice says, as I instantly know its Bakugou. I smile to myself, wanting to rip the curtain away and wrap my arms around his neck.

“Hello Bakugou, don’t move the curtain, I can’t look at your right now” I say honestly.

“Okay, at least put your hand through the curtain, Kiri’s here to.” He replies nudging the curtain. I sigh, it’s been 6 years and I can barely hold myself together with he thought of being back with my family but being a hero right now is what I need to do.

“Okay, but only quickly I have to get back” I whisper, and slowly put my right-hand backwords them. Instantly I can feel like touching my hand and kissing it.

“Can’t smell you omega, how come?” Kirishima asks.

“Stupid American pheromone blockers, I’ll take them off later at home, promise.” I say and pull my hand back to finish quickly and get back to my family and quickly as I can. I can hear both alphas walk away, and I pull my hand to my chest.

*********************************************

Hero-con is over, and I can finally come home. After we all graduated, everyone pulled their money together and we bought a huge house together which allowed all of us to live together as a pack. Before I left, I entered a relationship with Bakugou and Kirishima but now I do not know if they still want me in a dynamic with because they’ve been an Alpha/Alpha relationship for 6 years. I don’t’ even have a room anymore, Denki took it when I moved to America. There might be room, I think, Midoriya (A) and Todoroki (A/O) have a room, Sero (B) and Mina (B) have a room, Shinso (A), Jirou (B) and Denki (O) all have separate rooms even though they are together which leaves Bakugou (A) and Kirishima (A) who have the biggest room. I could always share with Denki until I find a new place, I say to myself as I knock on the front door.

I wait patiently, until the door is opened revealing a very excited Denki. Practically jumping on the spot.

“Y/N YOU’RE HOME.” He shouts while throwing himself into my arms. I hug back, I breath him in and tears start to fill my eyes.

“Oi sparky, you know the rules. She needs to follow the greetings as she’s been away for so long.” Says Bakugou with his arms crossed. I enter the house and look around seeing everyone in their groups. I cannot believe I am home.

I quickly great Mina and Sero first, presenting our pack mark and then onto hugs. Next, I go straight over to Shinso, presenting my neck to show I am not a threat to his omega or beta. Which he simply nods and as these dynamics, Shinso does not really care for. I great Jirou and then great Denki properly by touching our noses together. I approach Midoriya next as he used to be the main Alpha who brought us all together, I greeted him the same way as Shinso but instead Midoriya threw his arms around me puling me into a hug.

“Please never leave again, Bakugou’s been impossible” He whispers into my ear. I laugh looking over his shoulder to a very anger Bakugou. I turn to Todoroki who is half Omega/Alpha, I greet him the same way as Denki, I know he prefers that greeting than the alpha one. Its finally time to see if they still want me. Kirishima is practically beaming at Bakugou side. I approach with my head down; I can feel everyone’s eyes on me as I approach him. As he is lead Alpha, I must wait to see what he will do.

“Still can’t smell you omega.”  Bakugou announces loudly.

“There’s a pheromone implant in my neck, Alpha, see you can feel it.” I reply, taking his hand to my neck. In American you are not allowed to use pheromones in public, so for hero work you must use an implant to block it. Bakugou feels my neck and I can tell he is not happy. He grabs me by my neck, slamming me on the wall behind him. Everyone runs forward but Kirishima stands forward stopping them. Telling them it must happen and that Bakugou won’t hurt me, much.

With his claw Bakugou cuts into my neck to pull the impact out, I do not make a sound and only look at him in the eye. It must be done, and I know he will not hurt me. Once the implant is out. Bakugou lends forward and breathes me in. He hesitates, and calls Kirishima over. Kirishima looks between the two of use and breaths me in.

“Oh, y/n, you should’ve come home sooner.” Kirishima says, pulling me towards him for a hug.

“Please, Bakugou, get rid of the rest they can’t see me like this.” I whisper.

“Oi, extra’s don’t you have a party tonight. Your hotels have your clothes, now get lost.” Bakugou calls out, looking at them all. No one moves.

“NOW!” Bakugou yells, using his alpha voice and everyone leaves.

As soon as the door closes, I start to cry. Six years of being all alone hit me at once, yes it was my plan to be a strong hero, its hard to do it without your pack or alphas.

“The first sign of your omega depression, you should’ve come home little one.” Kirishima says whispering into my hair.

“How could I, I would’ve let you all down and all other omega’s out there without a voice, so what I had to go through omega depression….. more than once.” I say back looking up into Kirishima’s eyes. Bakugou stands beside us, looking slightly smaller.

“Bakugou, go run a bath,” Kirishima calls out and Bakugou follows his orders.

“Wait, what’s going on. Bakugou what are you doing” I ask, looking confused. Bakugou leans over the stairs to look at me.

“Kirishima’s the Alpha now, we’ll the others haven’t picked up on it yet because we haven’t publicly fought, but he’s been the main Alpha for a while now, I can’t be number one all the time now can I.” Bakugou replies with a smile. I look to Kirishima who still holds me but is beaming with love as he watches Bakugou. I try to pull away from his arms. It is stupid why did I think this would work. They do not want me anymore, I just know. Kirishima noticed how I suddenly changed but decided not to say anything.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and smelling natural.” He says, picking me up with no issues. He climbs the stairs and I place my head into his scent gland in his neck. I notice that neither him nor Bakugou do not have a claiming mark yet. Once we reach the top of the stairs, I see my old bedroom door and ask Kirishima to put my down, he walks ahead to the double doors at the end of the hallway. Which is their room.

“I’ll only stay for tonight, and then I’ll find somewhere else to live, I don’t even have a room here anymore.” I say to Kirishima which makes him freeze.

“Silly omega, come here.” He replies, gesturing me to follow. I start to hear the water running in their private bathroom. Kirishima opens the door and lets me enter the room first.

The first thing I can smell is the strong smell of Alpha but slowly a familiar smell enters, I look around the room and see my stuff. Things that I had left behind, my paintings, photos of the three of use. The queen size bed with three sets of pillows, big enough for all of us. I look around and notice a curtained canopy hiding something. I look to Kirishima who leans on the door frame by the Bathroom and nods. I breath in again and noticed the familiar smell but I am not able to pinpoint it yet.

I pull back to curtain and freeze. “Is that m..” I say unable to finish as I look down, tears filling my eyes. Bakugou comes out of the bathroom and leans on the opposite side to Kirishima. I look at the two of them and then look down at my old nest, they kept it, they really kept it. I can’t speak, only cry. Bakugou comes over to me and hold me bringing me towards the bathroom. Kirishima entered first. He began to undress and tied back his long hair, He entered the bath first, as Bakugou began to undress me as my emotions were betraying me at his moment. There was nothing sexual about this moment, it was about Alpha’s taking care of their Omega. Bakugou lifted me and lowered me into the water to sit in Kirishima’s lap, he quickly undressed and joined us.

I started to calm down, feeling I could now speak. “So, you mean, you have forgotten me, and you still want to be with me.” I ask looking down at my hands. Kirishima wraps his arms around me more and places his head into my scent gland breathing me in, tickling me slightly.

“Of course, silly omega, we’ve wanted you since the day you knocked me on my ass.” Bakugou replied leaning in to kiss me.

#alpha imagines #alpha!bakugou #alpha!kirishima #bnha omegaverse #omega reader #polyam relationship #poly bakusquad #omegaverse #abo dynamics #alpha bakugou #alpha x omega #alpha bakugou x reader #alpha kirishima x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x self insert #kirishima x reader #bakugou x kirishima x reader #my hero academia reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha au #mha omegaverse #mha fanfiction #mha yandere