#i would draw him so he could look at his vain self

[yo-yo-yoshiko]

Oh, for a skeleton key…

Plus a digital mockup to simulate a red ink pass that i discovered could not be achieved well enough with the materials available to me, and the original pencils.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #fan art #ink drawing #inktober #(i guess eehehe) #i drew him for funsies and sent him on his merry way to lands unknown(the postal system) #i expressed my initial anxiety about drawing his face properly to a friend who rightfuly observed that his head IS yoshiko shaped #wonderful shape. 10/10. the jacket…. #was a labor and a half lol #worth it for the bestie though lol #i would draw him so he could look at his vain self #i wanna see if i can get that artist guy in game to paint him lol #i’m only in act two at the time of typing #still one of my fave interactions with him: #‘i dont want a freaking poem #just tell me i’m hot’ #astarion… buddy… look at me…. i’m a god damn bard how could you say these things to me? #my craft!! #Pointy bastard mean girl hungry boy crime time murder elf.

[revehae]

hurts so good (2)

pairing ↠ mark x you x jeno

genre .. warnings ↠ unprotected sex, degradation, slapping, impact play, cheating, cuckolding without the marriage, brief mention of nonconsented recording

summary ↠ jeno proves to be the perfect remedy to your bedroom problems with mark, but not without cost. the longer you lie to your perfect boyfriend, the more guilt builds like a plaque in your chest. but is it enough to make you set aside your pleasure?

wc ↠ 3.9k

a/n ↠ this the second and final part of a repost. part one here! happy readings lovelies!

don’t like it, don’t read.

“fuck,” you moaned.

“don’t talk.”

you bit your bleeding lip, trying hard to comply in spite of knowing your attempts would be in vain and you would ultimately earn yourself a smack. later you would have to explain to mark why you had a bruise on your bottom lip, and likely the rest of you, but you were of no mind to be worried about that right now. 

not when jeno was currently pounding you out against a wall.

you met his heavy stare. even his gaze made you feel small and dainty, like you could break if he just looked at you for too long. looking at you, jeno thought the same thing. you were such a pretty, fragile little thing, but you liked being broken just as much as he liked breaking you.

you wanted to loathe how good jeno made you feel in spite of hurting you all the while, but your body couldn’t lie and you were clenching around his thick cock, fighting back the most pathetic of whimpers. he was dangerously deep inside you, borderline fucking you into the wall as he tried to coax himself even deeper.

“jeno,” you cried out at a particular thrust, your back roughly hitting the wall. like he was of a mind to force you through it. 

your legs tightly coiled around his waist, drawing him into you like you were afraid of letting go, gave jeno the perfect opportunity to wrap his hands around your throat, hissing, “i said shut up. i’m not afraid of choking you unconscious if it means you’ll shut that big mouth.”

one of your arms dangled from his neck, and you used one to weakly try to pry his hands off your throat, though to no avail. jeno was stronger than you could ever dream to be. “i can’t… jeno, i…,” you choked out, struggling to speak and breathe.

jeno chuckled darkly, tightening his grip. “you can’t what, baby? say it. i fucking dare you.”

though you tried, it was difficult given that jeno had you pinned to the wall by your throat. you loved how effortlessly cruel he could get, firmening his hold because he knew damn well what you were trying to say.

he knew that you were struggling to breathe, and he didn’t care, cruel enough to choke you out even harder. you adored his cruelness because it was everything you wanted and everything you knew you could never have in the long run. he was your biggest, most tantalizing temptation. when you left his apartment that day, you told yourself over and over that it couldn’t happen again, but you knew when you looked jeno in the eye after he came inside you that this couldn’t be a one-time thing.

and so it happened again. a few more times.

you were beginning to lose count of how many times you had made the poor decision of getting into bed with him again (or, in this case, onto a wall), but you tried to fight off the urge and ultimately succumbed to your need for twisted pleasure. a kind you could only find in jeno.

it made you feel bad when you lied to mark, a gut-wrenching feeling that made you bristle with self-disgust. don’t lie to me. that’s the worst thing you can do, said his sweet voice, replaying on repeat like a mantra in your head. you could see the look on his face when he found out, the sting of betrayal. with his best friend, no less. but you were too far gone to stop now.

the most sickening part was that you had a terrible feeling that mark wouldn’t even want to break up with you, he wouldn’t fault you. he would beat himself over it and find fault in himself, which was even worse because he had done nothing wrong. 

so why were you letting jeno have what you swore to mark was only his - why did you keep running back?

you had tried to break things with jeno off, to restrain yourself and be a good girlfriend, but it never lasted for very long. it got to the point where whenever you told jeno that it had to be the last time, he would merely laugh in your face and scoff that you weren’t going anywhere.

he knew you too well. much like mark. it made you contemplate.

jeno let you breathe when you tapped his fist with your fingers and you sucked in a large breath like it was the last time you would ever inhale again. you never really knew with him.

“know a girl like you can’t keep quiet,” jeno said snidely. “feels too good, doesn’t it? you like being fucked like a whore too much to shut up.”

you tried to say no, to save what was left of your pride, but only a squeaky noise rose from the back of your throat. 

jeno asked teasingly, “do you get this noisy with mark too, or just me?”

you didn’t want to answer, face hot with shame because you knew the answer and it didn’t in any way make you look good. jeno, of course, already knew the answer. he had heard enough about you and mark’s sexcapades from both sides. he just wanted to hear it from your own mouth.

jeno grabbed your hair, not in any way gentle, and growled, “that was a question. don’t act all shy now.”

“no,” you whispered. 

jeno scrunched his brows as if he couldn’t hear you, pulling your hair even rougher. “what was that, baby?”

“no,” you cried out, partially from how forceful he was. “just you, jeno.”

jeno merely laughed and released his hold again. you swore it gave him some kind of ego boost to know he fucked you better than mark. you wondered if he cared, given that he was just as guilty as you for sleeping with his best friend’s girlfriend on more than one occasion, but he never seemed to give a damn. part of you envied his carefree nature, but another part of you wondered how he could be so shameless.

not that it mattered. you knew as well as he did that it wouldn’t stop you from crawling back.

“you’re the prettiest like this, you know,” jeno whispered, though not necessarily meaning it affectionately. “when you look like you’re falling apart, all these marks all over your body.”

you were so close to orgasm it was mind-numbing. and jeno was unintentionally going to be what brought you to the end, dangling over the edge.

“you’re close,” jeno stated, not even needing to ask. it was both awful and astonishing that he learned to recognize the signs. once upon a time, only mark knew your body that intimately. 

you nodded. then, begged, “can i please cum?”

“cum around my dick, princess. just moan my name when you do,” was all he had to say in retort.

and a couple of moments later, you were doing as told, arms looped around his neck as you clang to him and your legs tightening just below his ribs. you sang jeno’s name, and the cry was so sweet it brought about his own climax, an even sweeter sound leaving you when you felt his load inside you.

then, jeno carried you over to his bed in his brawny arms and threw you on top of his mattress to fuck those sounds out of you again. and likely all of your sense.

“we really need to stop,” you told jeno after a couple of rounds.

jeno groaned, half-tempted to duck tape your lips. “you keep saying that. then, you hit my phone when you need a fuck and you’re on my dick again. make up your damn mind.”

“but i like it too much,” you whined. 

“i could have told you that.”

you gave him a look.

“listen, it’s not my fault you keep spreading your legs for me. what the fuck do you want me to do when you’re the one begging me to fuck the shit out of you? tell you no?”

yes, because someone needs to control me. i can’t do it myself, you mused, having no rein on yourself whatsoever. your urges had a mind of their own. you couldn’t be the one to make yourself stop, and if he didn’t, then nobody would.

“don’t you feel the least bit guilty?” you asked, sorrow in your eyes. post-nut clarity was a bitch.

jeno shrugged. no, was the simple answer, but he didn’t feel like explaining himself right now. “is guilt stopping you from lying in my bed right now?”

“this isn’t about me,” you groaned. 

jeno laughed at that. “please. this is all about you,” he said. “i’m the middleman here. i’ve only been doing what you wanted.”

“you should stop doing that.”

“then, leave,” jeno said nonchalantly, picking up his phone as he pretended not to care. “you act like i’m making you stay here. you have free will. but i bet you’ll be back in no time at all.”

and you were.

it was maddening that he was always right. what the hell were you thinking? you couldn’t give something as good him up for another girl to fuck, because you knew you could be replaced in no time. you couldn’t even convince yourself that you didn’t want him. 

god, you had only been fucking him for a week and you were already addicted.

one night, you crawled into bed with mark after a hot shower, washing away jeno’s scent. you were facing mark, just staring at each other with complete awe, but a tear fell from your eyes.

mark immediately fretted, kissing your cheek chastely like he knew to and asked, “why are you crying?”

you shook your head. you couldn’t tell him. it would break you. “no reason,” you lied, whispering. “i love you.”

“i love you too,” mark said without a second of hesitation. he knew in his soul that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. “i love you more than anything.”

don’t make this harder on me, you whispered to yourself, falling apart as you let your hand touch his pretty face. mark smiled at your touch, and you gave him a smile back. on nights like this, you could pretend everything was alright.

on the other end, mark didn’t know how to feel. you really thought he was a fool. and maybe he was. maybe he was foolishly in love with you, and that was why he pretended to not know. it was almost better that way. 

he was still thinking about last friday. 

how’d it go?

how do you think? 

she’s glowing. what did you do? 

it’s not that hard, mark. all you gotta do is slap her around a little. 

i’ll keep that in mind.

still on for friday?

you bet. 

wanna see? 

mark furrowed his brows. what is there to see?

[jeno sent one attachment] when you jack off to that later, don’t let her see. 

mark’s jaw slacked when he realized what the video was. you recorded it? what the fuck, dude? 

you’re welcome. 

you never noticed the far from perfectly hidden red flashing light, especially not bent over, too absorbed in how perfect jeno had been making you feel. mark had been reluctant to open it at first, but ultimately caved in to temptation, and he had gotten off to it countless times since then.

it made no sense how beautiful you looked being fucked into oblivion by a man that wasn’t him. 

on friday when mark left to run errands, you were back at jeno’s door. he gave you a scan. he could feel your anxiety from a mile away. 

“don’t say a goddamn word,” you hissed, walking past him and into his house. 

jeno closed the door behind you, chuckling in amusement. and as if he didn’t hear you, said, “i gotta give you some credit. it’s been like, what, five days? you lasted a lot longer than i thought you would.”

you narrowed your eyes at him and snarled, “didn’t i just say…”

jeno cut you off with a kiss, backing you into a wall. it was intense and greedy, and you could barely keep up, letting him take the lead while his hands roamed all over your body. the more you moaned into jeno’s mouth, the rougher he kissed you. if you didn’t know any better, you would say he had been impatient himself. 

you were both shirtless by the time he had pulled away from you, and your bra was thrown across his sofa in the heat of the kiss. you could see the arousal in his eyes, feel it in his touch, and it was driving you mad. 

“i’m tired of listening to you,” jeno growled into your ear, breath against your neck. “you’re gonna do what i want.”

all you could do was nod. jeno crashed his lips against yours again and kissed you the whole way to his bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in your wake.

you were so engrossed in the way his lips felt on yours that you didn’t even notice the other man in the room.

“breathe,” jeno told you when he pulled back, chuckling. 

you giggled, trying to catch your breath, but when you caught a glance of the bed through the corner of your eye, you nearly leapt out of your skin, shrieking, “mark?”

mark was silently sitting on jeno’s bed, eyes fixed to you. the look on his face was so unreadable that you couldn’t tell what kind of thoughts were running through his mind and you were borderline afraid to. your heart was racing quicker than you thought healthy. you glanced at jeno, baffled, but he merely gazed back at you with a smirk.

you stiffened. “mark, i... i thought you were… what are you…”

“i overestimated you. i thought you were smarter than this,” jeno teased, shaking his head.

you were frozen in your skin, scared to speak. 

“well, i technically was running an errand because i was talking to jeno about something, but you got here earlier than expected,” mark mumbled. 

jeno chipped in, “in other words, you’re so needy you did all the heavy lifting for us.”

“i… don’t understand?”

jeno threw his head back. “how much more do i have to dumb it down for you? mark knew about us this whole time. he set you up.”

you paralyzed with cold realization. it was all beginning to add up now. jeno’s nonchalance and detachment in contrast to your nerves. he’ll be glad it’s just me instead of somebody else, jeno had once told you. to which you replied, you say that like mark himself told you that.

because he did. 

you covered your tits, throwing mark a fretful glance. 

mark knew you better than anyone and spoke up before you could, “i’m not mad.”

“why?” you asked. he should have been furious. he should have ended things with you then and there, if not a long time ago. 

mark met your eyes tenderly and whispered, “because i just want you to be happy.”

this fucking loser, jeno scoffed to himself. “because he gets off to knowing somebody else is getting you off,” jeno added. “you know he asks me every detail of every fuck we have? he’s just as freaky as you.”

mark flustered. and so did you. maybe you were a match made in heaven.

“you both annoy the shit out of me,” jeno said, deadpan. then, he leaned into you and asked quietly, “wanna give your boyfriend a show?”

it was jeno touching you, but your eyes were fixed to mark. at those words, you noticed the slightest bit of excitement become visible in your boyfriend. what he couldn’t conceal, you saw glimmer in his eyes. so, without breaking eye contact with mark, you nodded.

“good girl,” jeno praised, before switching on a dime and growling, “bed.”

you knew what that meant. with no hesitation at all, you climbed into bed and mark gawked in astonishment at how quickly you presented yourself in a perfect arch at jeno’s command. he had you completely trained to bend to his will as if you were some sort of pet.

jeno was right behind you, grinning with unadulterated pride. he knew you belonged to mark, but you were also his now in some sick, twisted way. and he wasn’t about to give you back up. “good. you’re already watching each other,” jeno commented, amused. “don’t take your eyes off of him.”

“or else what?” 

jeno grabbed you by the throat, but it wasn’t harsh at all, much more like a warning. “fuck around and find out,” he replied darkly.

that sent a shiver down your spine. 

mark watched jeno position himself behind you, silent as could be. jeno slipped your panties to the side, not bothering to prepare you in spite of his size. he couldn’t imagine it. to mark, you were like some deity than deserved absolute worship. you moaned when jeno pushed inside you, tempted to tip your head, but fought it for now.

mark could feel his heart racing and arousal gripping him by the throat. he couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something about this that made him mad with lust.

your lips parted, tears making your eyes burn. you could still feel the lingering bruises jeno had left on your body that you desperately tried to hide from mark, because not only were they proof of your trysts, but mark would probably kill anybody that hurt you. except for jeno, apparently.

“she’s so tight, mark,” jeno groaned like you weren’t even there. “it’s like she gets tighter every time she runs back to me. do you ever fuck her?”

“it’s been a while,” mark said, sucking in a breath. he was getting hard. 

“clearly,” jeno mumbled. 

you whimpered, nails digging into the sheets to anchor yourself when jeno picked up his pace. which wasn’t after long. he was fucking you into the mattress before you even knew it yourself, making it all too difficult to hold eye contact with mark, and you broke it, glancing downwards. it was an impossible challenge from the start, that all three of you knew.

“jeno,” you whined, trying to pry his fingers from your hips.

jeno glanced down at you, seeing what you were doing, and asked, “where does it hurt? here?”

you bobbed your head. 

instead of making an effort to be more careful, jeno pressed his fingers down on the bruise, chuckling to himself when you cried out in a mixture of pain and shock. “eyes up, princess,” he whispered icily.

you brought your eyes back to your boyfriend’s, silently observing each other with a kind of telepathic communication. you had mastered that art in the past couple of years. there was no need for words. 

it was lewd and taboo. never had you done anything that felt as wrong as this; letting your boyfriend’s best friend fuck you right in front of his face, watching each other the whole time. but he made no move to stop either of you, merely standing there like a complete fool.

ironically, you were starting to understand each other better that way.

you looked pathetic as ever right now, tears rolling down your eyes in a stream. you made the wise choice not to wear makeup today, but jeno wished you would have. he always loved the look of streaks of black mascara running down your cheeks. it made you look even more ruined. but you never got like this for mark; most of the time, it was you ruining him. you liked making mark fall apart without doing much at all.

though to be far, you had never seen this side of mark either. had you known he liked it that much, that would have made everything a hell of a lot easier.

maybe this new situation could mutually benefit the three of you. you loved the grunts jeno made when he was pressed deep inside you, dragging his cock against your velvet walls. you liked when he put his hands on you and you could feel the sting for days. and you knew jeno loved fucking you, almost as if he couldn’t get enough of your body. 

“harder,” you cried. 

jeno cocked a brow. “you want it harder? you look like you’re about to break, princess.”

all you had to say to that was a hoarse, “break me.”

that jeno had every intention of, with or without your blessing.

mark was painfully hard at this point and made a move to take his clothes off, but jeno interrupted, “don’t touch yourself.”

mark shot him a look, flabbergasted and unsure if he should have listened or not. 

jeno beckoned him to approach the two of you. it was as if he had taken control of your relationship now. he flipped you onto your back, resulting in you emitting a loud sound of surprise. “hit her, mark,” jeno commanded, watching your face tense. “do it.”

mark stammered, “i… i can’t.”

“oh, for fuck’s sake. must i do everything for you?” jeno groaned, irritated. “it’s easy. i’ll show you.”

the pleasure of knowing he was about to hit you fused with the pain of his palm on your cheek and blended into something inexplicably erotic.

“see, the freaky little bitch likes it,” jeno commented, pointing out the dazed look on your face. “your turn.”

mark hesitated. he never wanted to hurt you, that was why he had gotten jeno to do the job. well, part of the reason. inwardly uttering a couple of motivational words to himself, mark gave you a weak smack to your cheek.

“lame,” jeno deadpanned. “but progress is progress.”

“harder, mark,” you whimpered, smiling up at him. “please? for me?”

mark could never tell you no when you looked at him like that, begging him with that sweet voice. so he gave in, hitting you again, even harder. you made a noise, face turning to the other side, which worried mark before he ultimately realized it was a sound of pleasure.

jeno laughed, on the verge of applause. “would you look at that.”

“did you like it?” mark asked bashfully. curse his need for validation. 

“mm-hm,” you hummed, sighing out in content.

mark smiled a tiny bit and his eyes fell down the rest of your body, spotting bruise after bruise. he had to give you credit; you had done an amazing job at concealing them, though the lack of sex definitely helped. now that you were naked, they were everywhere. apparently, jeno only put them in areas where they wouldn’t be immediately visible. he started to kiss them, one after the other, and much to your surprise, his tenderness somehow brought you even closer to finish. 

“i’m so close,” you told no one in particular, merely putting it out there. 

“come on, baby. show mark what it’s really like when you cum,” jeno said, grabbing a handful of your hair. “gonna let me fill you up with your boyfriend right there?”

you could do nothing but nod. you were chasing relief, chasing satiation. 

then, the thread snapped, and you came hard as ever. jeno was whispering mean words in your ear and all the while, mark was showing your body in affections, the contrast strong enough to give you whiplash. you moaned when you felt jeno finally cum inside you, and he pulled out to watch it drip from your stuffed cunt.

jeno glanced to mark and asked tauntingly, “need another tutorial or do you got it this time?”

you tried to catch your breath. maybe you could get used to this.

#lee jeno smut #mark lee smut #nct dream smut #nct dream hard hours #nct smut #jeno smut #nct dream scenarios #revehae fics

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Supporting them - Amanda, John, Mark and Lawrence

warning : angst, hurt/comfort, cuddling, kissing, mentioning of self-harm

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Amanda : The sweet but addicted Amanda is punished by life and resurrected by Jigsaw to start a new life. But this is easier said than done since she tasted the metal and the blood, something has broken inside her and has come together in the form of emotionality and emotional outbursts, all under the cover of fear that she will not be able to live up to John or be left alone by him. Which is why, especially after Mexico and the first game, she seemed all the more nervous, but her partner was there to help her. Whether it was just words of praise or reassurance when the black-haired girl was too nervous. A hand on her shoulder or on her, ,,Just breathe it will be fine" she heard the voice of her lover when she felt her emotions boiling over. A hug behind closed doors and the encouraging gestures. A small snack or just a look was enough to tell her that everything would be alright. They are small things but they help her immensely.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John : Jigsaw himself, as strong and effective as his actions are, is vulnerable when reduced to a human being. An elderly man who has terminal cancer and is dying of it. gets robbed of life for changing other people. And yet. But he had his favorite. His partner who helped him with everything Amanda couldn't help with. Sitting together on the couch in his house in the evenings, one hand resting on his in his lap. Showering him with stories of better times and telling him how good he was. That everything was going to be fine, making him warm tea and getting his medication ready. Maybe even try to force him to sleep and continue the drawings. Do everything so that he didn't overexert himself, he had suffered enough. ,,Don't worry John, we'll manage...your work will go on until the end" he heard the words and a small smile came to his lips as he looked at the person with love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mark : The policeman, scarred by the life of the bear trap and the death of his sister, had lost everything for a time in his life. Alcohol was his best and only friend until he met not only John but also his lover. The thoughts of the darkness that surrounded him were not only tinged with brutality and a slight arrogance, but also with devotion. He loved the little gestures you did for him. A coffee in the evening, a little note, a hug when he came home and a cuddle when his mornings were hard. ,,My strong policeman... you are everything Mark, understand? I will always help you," said his favorite and hugged the older one. The older one replied that he was glad to have someone still worth loving but for everything that had happened he was grateful to have his partner. Someone he could kiss, someone who was there for him, someone he could trust after everything that had happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lawrence: The divorce from his wife, the loss of his daughter, the death of his friend Adams and the loss of his mentor and his failure with Jill. It was a time when he needed help, help to deal with his body and the loss of his leg. But it was also a time when he met his angel, his partner who not only helped him cope with his prosthesis but also with the process of his daughter. The nights were usually longer and he was afraid that the plans would not turn out right. But when he felt the reassuring hand of his darling on his shoulder, smelled coffee and felt a warm blanket around him. ,,Don't get cold, sweetie... go to sleep, I'll stay with you okay," he heard the voice and smiled slightly. They were small cares and yet they were gestures that showed him that nothing was in vain. He still had hope and love by his side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@callmeklarise

#saw movies #saw franchise #amanda young #john kramer #mark hoffman #lawrence gordon #amanda young x reader #john kramer x reader #mark hoffman x reader #lawrence gordon x reader

[kwillow]

Ambroys basking in his cache of gifts and sweet words from secret admirers. Gotta be careful, though. If his ego is inflated any more, he'll pop.

(I wanted to doodle something to accompany a post answering some messages regarding this candy-colored cad but got a bit carried away. :P Well regardless, asks under the cut!)

Why thank you! He would drunkenly insult people, though he tends to be more passive-aggressive and backhanded rather than outright insulting - well, most of the time, anyway. He thinks he's a lot more subtle in his derogatory comments than he actually is.

Aaaw, this is too sweet!

Older Ambroys is much more reserved about seeking and accepting physical affection than his younger self, for myriad reasons (that one day I will expound upon in more detail, fate willing). He still enjoys it, though.

He's still proud of the stars on his cheeks and the gold in his hair and all that, but the signs of age are something he is not at peace with. For some, like the wrinkles, they're a sign that his time on this earth is finite - and death terrifies him. For others, like his paunch, it's more just embarrassing to him in a more mundane and vain "I was voted Prom King in high school and I was on the Varsity track team now look at me I'm an old man boo hoo hoo" type of way (though he's actually more physically adept in his older age than he was when he was younger for Magical Heritage Bullshit reasons, the sentiment remains).

As for your question, it's totally fine with me for Ambroys to be portrayed as non-heterosexual in fanfic or fanart or one's secret imaginings. Even though all of his "canon" love interests are women, I wouldn't rule out of the possibility of him developing affections for someone who isn't a woman. Chase your bliss!

Haha well both furry and aasimar Ambroys would bask in the attention, though poor aasimar Ambroys' jealousy is not going to be helped!

No shame on being a furry though. I didn't consider myself one either but I feel like it's harder to make the argument that I'm not given the sheer number of ponies I've drawn by now...

He would accept this, so long as you don't mess up his hair.

He would say: "good!" I would say "don't waste your life on him!"

Oh he would be pleased to be so distracting, I'm sure.

And sometimes we can't help but to have a type... I know I seem to have a thing for rich effete douchebags with buck teeth and big pointy noses... not quite sure what's up with that.

Yessss... yesssssssss... or perhaps I should say "I'm sorry."

I didn't mean to make him this way... I guess I underestimated the power of a brushable mane.

Ambroys DOES like being worshipped (way too much and way too literally, as you might be able to tell) but he wants to have his imperfections hidden if he can!

He's just horribly, horribly vain and unwilling to let go of his youth... even though he got to enjoy being youthful for three times as long as a mortal would.

YES that song is on his playlist (which I have for all my main characters because I'm a dork). It's just too perfect. One of the many ideas on my miles-long to do list has to do with depicting a scene from that song. The trouble is that it has to do with dancing, and boy am I not very good at drawing dancing poses. xD Oh well, gotta try for the boy!

Heh well I think we could agree that a normal horse probably couldn't pull off the breeches he wears quite so well... I'm flattered that you think of him when you see horsies in the flesh! Huzzah, I've ruined one of the Earth's beautiful creatures for you! >:)

Oh wow, my guy is stepping out of my brain and into other people's subconsciouses... I need to put a leash on him. :P But this was a fun read!

It's very in character Ambroys to try to undercut a rival's self-esteem by framing it as something OTHER people say, but oh no, he'd NEVER say something like that, of course. Mean girl behavior. He does have friends that don't actually like him - and he doesn't like them either. But one needs to have friends for appearance's sake - just one more accessory, really!

OKAY, I think that's everything! Or at least enough for this post, ahah.

Thanks to everyone for your kind words on my not-so-kind character.

Unlike him, I'm really humbled and grateful by the positive reception he's received. I deeply appreciate your kind messages... even when it takes me eons to reply to them, gah.

#my draws #ambroys #amaranthine #asks #technically? #furry #unicorn #some of these are months old i'm so sorry Dx #my excuse this time is that I have what I fear is an RSI developing in my wrist/arm #so I'm trying to limit drawing/typing #alas... just can't catch a break between work and the limits of my weak human form

[prismaticpichu]

What if Sephiroth saw Genesis again as his evil self. what do you think would happen? What if Genesis knew of his sins. Causing one of his friends to die. And the other one to go insane. And then die. But come back?

What if Genesis asks Sephiroth for forgiveness?

Ohohohohoho….. that is some GOOD STUFF, buddy >:3c

Genesis can’t even fathom the sight before him. It chills him to the very bone, smothers every bit of satisfaction and smugness and pride that had been curling his lips into a smirk. The smirk is no longer there. Neither is the desire to bring it back. Genesis can’t find the strength to, regardless. Not now. Not anymore.

Not after seeing the look in Sephiroth’s eyes

“Sephiroth….” Genesis vaguely shakes his head, a certain nausea coming to brew in his head as he tries to digest the sight. A certain numbness. “What… what happened to you?”

The question is a ghost to the other’s ears; his response is nothing but a cold ripple of chuckles, and those reptilian slits narrow eerily against the wintry dusk of the wasteland, jade daggers cleaving through air as they scan him up and down.

“SOLDIER….” Sephiroth finally purrs. “You’re a SOLDIER.”

The comment breathes its own brand of ice into Genesis’s veins. It’s not the way he says it that chills him—the sludgelike molasses on his tongue, the way the syllables viscously rolled off and into the air. It’s what he said. The coil of incredulity tightens in his chest, and he responds dubiously that he was one—not anymore—and that Sephiroth was one once upon a time as well. He asks how Sephiroth could possibly say such a thing….. could forget such a thing, only to be returned with nothing but another round of chuckles. Chuckles that soon bubble out into a full, dark, humorless laugh.

Genesis takes several steps backwards as the man continues on with the detached laughter, unnerved. Icy. He swallows.

“Sephiroth…. what is… what is the matter with you?”

He hadn’t known what he was expecting when he came across the black-cladded man. Perhaps it was that he wanted him to be broken. Crippled. Be the way he had made him in the Reactor. Show that he was healed without him. Show how he hadn’t rotted.

But this…?

This is not what he….

Eventually, Sephiroth calms down again. The laughter dwindles away and he shakes his head—shakes his bangs, having grown so far beyond their original length. He again turns to look at the auburn, leer at him, and goes on to monologue to that he is something far greater than the mindless drones at SOLDIER. That within his veins flowed the blood of the ancients, that he was the rightful ruler of this planet and it was his place to cleanse it. Cleanse it of every human clinging to Her world like a parasite. Purge them. Destroy them. Eradicate them.

Each and every one.

And it flashes then, the deadly glints of silver scintillating against the night as Masamune is summoned.

Genesis will never be able to describe the vice that clasps heart then. His rattled eyes trace the katana from the very tip of its blade to the glove clenching its hilt—trace its fatal gleam, its famished intent, traces the sword to Sephiroth’s side as the man brings it into a readying stance.

Genesis doesn’t draw his own.

He can’t. He won’t. Not… not like this.

“Sephiroth….” The man hardly realizes the words leaving his mouth—omits the cold taste of hypocrisy that lapped at his tongue, taking another step back. “I don’t want to fight you.”

Please…—

For the third time, however, only cold laughter is his response.

And Sephiroth lunges.

Genesis is forced to draw Rapier as he obstructs the sword blazing towards his chest. Forced to engage in the fight. Through their clanging blades he continues to plead that he doesn’t want to fight—dodging, parrying, countering, leaping, landing. But all his shouts are in vain. Sephiroth just continues to attack him, trap him. There’s no choice. No escape. Their swings are fierce, violent, lethal. Flaming and crazy. Unbridled and relentless. Deadly beats to a deadly song.

And there, playing along to the fatal rhythm, Genesis realizes the song is one he has heard before.

It’s the training room. He is back in the training room. Back on that day when their friendly, passionate spar had been warped and whetted and twisted into a venomous battle of glory. When it had all started.

When his shoulder was wounded.

When it never healed.

When he had decided he would leave.

And when he had decided he would leave him behind.

Leave him behind to rot.

Thorns prick at Genesis’s eyes.

The misty veil—the hesitation—it’s enough to leave Sephiroth enough of an opening to strike. Rapier flies out of Genesis hands and with a painful cry he’s sent plunging towards the earth, falling and crumpling, rolling and tumbling, only coming to a an abrupt stop upon colliding with a stone jutting out of the ground. Thin rivers trickle down his temple as Sephiroth’s shadow comes to loom over him, drenching him in tar. Genesis coughs, moans. Shakily manages to lift his gaze and stare.

Stare right into those eyes.

It’s there, against the moonless night, that Genesis sees it: the pure insanity in those jade daggers. The complete lack of recognition. Eyes that didn’t remember their laughs, or their spars, or any of the games they played. Eyes that raged with barbarity. With bitterness. With hatred. With malice. A green inferno set ablaze by pain and loss and betrayal, and famished flames having swallowed those emotions whole.

The eyes of a monster.

No such luck…. you are a monster.

The words ring cruelly in Genesis’s head as the cold bite of Masamune is brought his throat.

No such luck.

No suck luck….

No suck luck….

You are…

A monster.

What…. had he done….? What on GAIA had he done…? He had fed that poison. He had set that intern ablaze. He had started it. He was the catalyst. Angeal was gone, destroyed by his own twisted ideals he had infected him with—things he had believed under degradation’s influence and his own desperate attempts to make sense of the world. He had driven Angeal to his death. And now he had done it again.

He had killed Sephiroth.

The blade shifts against his neck; he tucks his head down, and a choke bursts from Genesis’s lips. The thorns had pricked deeper into his eyes, now bleeding with tears. And he doesn’t fight them.

He is going to die here, by his own friend’s blade. He knows he is. His life is going to end by the hands of someone he had once trusted with his life. There aren’t enough words in the dictionary to express what he is feeling, against the bitter chill of Masamune; words are insufficient, they always would be, when death’s door is rattling open for you.

There is only one thing left to say. Only only thing that mattered. Two words. Two simple words. Too little. Too late.

“I’m sorry….”

The words hang in the air like a leech. Clinging. Lingering. Genesis chokes, trying to meet with those amnesic eyes as he snaps his head up again.

“I’m sorry, Sephiroth…. do you hear me? I’m sorry…. oh Shiva I’m so sorry….” He again lowers his head quavering and trembling. Shuddering. He lets it all bleed out, every thread of dormant guilt and pain that had been tied up, all spilling out into the cold wintry air where his dead best friend stood before him.

Sephiroth narrows his eyes.

“I should I have never left you. Never. I should have never said those things to you—not like I did. It’s my fault… everything. Everything.”

Genesis gulps on his breath, his voice shivering down into a near whisper. “

“Please, my friend. If you can hear me…. forgive me.”

And he waits.

Encompassed in darkness, he waits for it to come. The finishing blow. The end. The karma. He waits for it for Gaia knows how long, time splintering into an irrelevant void. He waits. And waits. And waits.

Only it doesn’t come.

Instead, in an unreal haze, he feels the weight being lifted from his throat.

….

….

….

What….?

Quavering, heart thundering in his chest, Genesis glances up.

Sephiroth had retreated a handful of feet away, Masamune now pointed harmlessly towards the ground at his side. The blade still glints, still being clenched with ferocious might…… but now the man has a hand to his forehead….. his visage crumpled…. pained.

And then, amid the lifesaving silence that had fallen, he tries to speak.

“Wings… stripped away….” Sephiroth bites out. “The end is nigh…”

Genesis’s heart goes numb.

It is incredible how much weight could be lifted from a heart in such a short amount of time. With so little said. With so little needed. The man almost laughs, breaking into a hopeful smile.

“You��. remember…” Genesis smiles tearfully.

“……..How can I not……” Sephiroth continues to struggle, creaking one of his eyes open. It looks like he’s about to say more before a blood-curdling hiss pries his voice from his throat, and he crumples to his knees.

“Sephiroth!” Genesis pulls himself to his feet—his heart jolted, hope ignited—and rushes towards his wincing friend.

He isn’t leaving him. Not now. Not again. Not again

Before he can make it, however, a black wing explodes from Sephiroth’s shoulder.

“Not… safe…”

“Sephiroth, wait—“

And he shoots into the sky, off onto the clouds, leaving Genesis to run right through him.

#sephiroth #ffvii #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 #asks #ty!! #pichu writing #one of our good ol fic-analysis hybrids! #final fantasy vii #crisis core #I’m sorry Genesis really doesn’t have personality here- I rarely write him and when I do it’s purely under a comical light so #y’know #but I tried xD

[gabessquishytum]

I hope you are feeling better!

I'm blaming this one on nail polish fumes.

Hob gets Dream to allow him to paint Dream's nails. Sure, Dream could change them with a thought, but Hob wants Dream to spend some time on himself, as a form of self care or even just self-indulgence. Of all the ideas Hob reels off getting his nails painted is one of the more favorable options to Dream. It means Dream gets Hob's hands on him after all.

Hob goes all out with the idea. He might not have known how to do a manicure before, but he's had a week to plan and access to YouTube. When its time for the manicure to start, he massages Dream’s hands gently and makes sure everything is as relaxed as possible. Dream doesn't have anything as mundane as cuticles or nail ridges, but Hob still pays each flawless nail close attention.

Dream is already fighting off the need to squirm, and Hob hasn't gotten to the actual painting yet. The color that he pulls out is the deepest black Hob could find, of course. Hob is oh so careful when he pulls the brush from the bottle, making sure there is not too much lacquer on the bristles. Dream can't help but draw the parallels between Hob's movements and the care an artist takes with their masterpiece.

Hob, not unaware of how this is affecting Dream, holds each finger rock steady as he applies the fist coat.

Dream had not considered until he sees the wet lacquer that the nail polish would mean that he would not be able to get his hands on Hob in return until it dried.

When Hob finishes up with the last nail, he smirks at Dream and tells him to keep his hands still and not smudge anything as he goes from sitting across from him to kneeling between Dream's legs. Hob quickly unbuttons Dream's pants and gets to work on the feast presented to him.

Dream's first instinct is to grab at Hob's hair and direct him to exactly where Dream wants him, but that would certainly smudge to lacquer. Dream could make his nails dry instantly, but he promised to do this the human way, and he is a creature of his word. So all he can do is keep his hands spread to the side while he uses the little bit of leverage his spread legs can manage to try and buck until Hob's tongue is exactly where he wants it.

Hob manages to orchestrate it so that Dream cums about the same time his nails are ready for the next coat, only taking the time to clean off his hands before starting on the next layer. When he finishes up with the lacquer, his mouth right back on Dream. He starts up the third layer after he has made Dream cum for a second time.

Hob has been told that the trick to a smooth, long-lasting manicure is many thin layers, and Hob intends to give Dream only the best.

When Hob finally decides he is on the last layer Dream has cum enough times that he is floating on pure endorphins. He doesn't even notice that the top coat Hob has chosen is embedded with tiny holographic glitter leaving the black struck through with a rainbow sheen.

Hob is definitely looking forward to being made to pay for that choice when it is noticed in the morning.

-💥

Ajsjdbfhs!!!! Make Dream do self care!!!! I love it, I love it so much. Particularly with added blowjobs.

Oh the torture of having to let Hob totally do all the work and dedicate himself to Dream’s pleasure! Dream just has to sit there and enjoy himself! It's genuinely A Task for him to just. Have a nice thing without thinking that he's doing something wrong. Hob is starting to think that nail polish is the most effective type of restraint ever. Dream is too vain to risk fucking up all those perfectly painted layers, so he has to sit still!

Hob also happens to be pretty fucking excellent at sucking cock. Like, Dream is acquainted with actual Sex Gods who don't give head as good as Hob. So that's. A lot.

Hob also ramps up the "torture" by spending the entire time he's painting Dream’s nails, telling him how wonderful he is. How he's beautiful and lovely and amazing and so loved, and how Hob would do anything for him, and how he deserves the world.

Dream is a total mess by the time Hob is done with him. All that praise, plus the fact that he's cum five or six times in pretty quick succession, means that he's a bit tearful and floppy. Hob carries him carefully off to bed and tucks him in, with one final check to be sure his shiny nails are perfect. Each finger gets a kiss, and by the time Hob has done all that? Dream has passed out. Bless him.

#💥 anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft

[boundinparchment]

Dream a Little Dream of Me - XLIII

Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student. But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky? He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use. People were nothing but disappointments. He had no use for you. Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance. Soulmate AU; Il Dottore/Female reader w/ established personality and backstory. Slow burn. Lore and world speculation and interpretation within; follows canon story where possible. Rated Mature. Rating subject to change. Mind the tags. On AO3 here. (Yes, this is a re-post; this chapter was heavily reworked and warrants it.)

"This needs to stop, Zandik."

He was quiet as his eyes fell from you to the Segment in your lap. Dark circles sat heavy, made all the worse by the poor lighting in the room. Sleep eluded him, too, and it was made all the worse by his natural work habits.

You knew so little about him in this role, as the Second Harbinger. However, you understood how easily he lost himself in his own thoughts and ideas; after all, you did it yourself when composing. Only one who comprehended exactly how deep the waters ran would know how far to go and where to draw the boundary.

Pantalone’s words still sat heavy in your mind but he mistook your patience for complacency. He was hardly the first. No one had pulled your from the icy depths of your own hell in Fontaine; you’d clawed and crawled your way out, one application and interview at a time, and you hadn’t looked back when you were out.

Patience alone would do nothing. Your soulmate had duties to tend to. Those would always come first; it was the nature of such positions.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the man in front of you said flatly.

“This has continued on long enough. I’m not letting you do this to yourself, Zandik.”

A bare hand hesitated before it reached out and brushed the boy’s cheek. Despite the state of the other Segments, this one was entirely untouched, unharmed. Whatever Zandik felt towards himself did not extend as far back as Omega made it seem and you clutched the Segment tighter, pulling him towards you.

You wished you hugged him in that dream after playing until the sun went down. It would have made no difference for Zandik. In another life, perhaps.

This wasn’t fair to him, to either of you. No one deserved for the past to hang over their head, especially so literally. Your lungs tightened and you tried to keep your breathing even, your shaking fists now clutching the fabric of the young Segment’s shirt.

“Mourning looks different for everyone,” you began. “They might be machines in need of disposal but they’re also you.”

“As they loved to remind me every chance they had,” he muttered.

“And you’re human, Zandik.”

He didn’t skip a beat. “I am closer to Omega, to that monster, than I am a human. If I had been selfish enough in my insatiable curiosity about our bond, I would woven our existences together as Omega did and you would be none the wiser that I did so.”

Your words came more freely, less a plea and more a passionate argument. “The man I love deserves more than to be torn to scrap and thrown into the incinerator, like mere refuse. You know that, otherwise there would be nothing left by now.”

The trouble with fated bonds was, in addition to their potentially poor timing, the lack of control over them, specifically their dynamic. Omega alluded to it and before, it hadn’t been entirely clear was laid between you two. Although you reminded yourself that not all bonds were romantic, your fingers ached to touch him just as much as they ached for the fret board; his company was as necessary as pulling notes together and weaving music from them. No pair chose. Even those that fought it did so in vain when suppressing it only resulted in a stronger pull, a more volatile life change.

Neither of you was a fan of predestination but Zandik had agreed to finding a solution. Part of that process meant embracing what connected the two of you together. To do anything else would be folly.

You counted the seconds between when his hand pulled away from the young Segment’s cheek and when he looked at you through his lashes. The recent hollowness you were familiar with was gone, instead replaced with an echo of skepticism; he believed your words, but not their authenticity, and a knife drove itself deeper into your chest.

“What I said stands, regardless of...my own emotions,” you amended. “Whatever you feel must be done, whatever you wish to do, just respect yourself, your humanity, in the process. They’re your past, Zandik. Make peace with them.”

He nodded and his gaze dropped to the child in your lap again before he looked around the room. For a moment, he looked haunted by ghosts long gone, echoes of existences.

“Ashes would be efficient enough all the same.” Zandik said at last, his hands finding yours and prying one from the linen shirt to hold it. “One place comes to mind. Would you accompany me?”

“Of course, mon rêve.”

As he raised your hand to his lips, you caught the slightest whisper against your skin. You swore you caught a twitch at the corner of his mouth as shadows of doubt eased from his expression, leaving only Zandik, your Zandik, in their place.

#dottore #il dottore #il dottore x reader #dottore x reader #dottore x female reader #il dottore x female reader #genshin impact reader insert #soulmate au

[blorbologist]

Wanted

[TLOVM season 2 spoilers up to episode 3!]

[Perc’ahlia / G / 1.4k / Cross-posted to AO3]

“So.” Percy leans as he walks, to better spy her reaction when he asks, “a rebellious phase?”

Vex, fiddling still with her retrieved feathers, quirks a brow. Undecided, apparently, as to if she wants to smirk or frown. “Something like that. Though I’m not sure poaching a monster qualifies.”

“Call it cunning, instead? But no, I was not referring to that.”

She really does wield those eyebrows like weapons. Aimed so precisely, arched with deadly intent. This one, nocked, wonders what he’s getting at. 

(A part of him laments that, caught in her sights, he could never deny her an answer. The rest of him wonders where the hells that came from. Put it back. It’s wiggling in his chest uncomfortably.)

“The wanted poster,” Percy explains. “The whole -” He waggles a finger over his right eye, ears, mimes twirling a chain around his wrist. It takes a gulp to draw a line around his neck. Hidden well, he hopes. (Probably in vain, knowing her, but she could always blame it on the cold.)

Her eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh, that! You forgot one part, darling.” 

When he hums an inquiry, Vex flips him off with a smirk. Percy snorts a laugh, drowned by the crunch of snow beneath their boots. Unclear, if he’s thankful for that or not - the sound was unbecoming his station. Gods, Cass would have a field day. But Vex catches it, and it draws that smirk into a more genuine smile, and. Well. He can live with the indignity. 

(What, and this is thought with heated emphasis, the fuck.)

“How could I forget?” he teases. 

Vex’s face pinches in thought as she picks around a log, stepping in Grog’s tracks. Percy is left to gangle over it lest he miss her reaction. 

“Forget, hm? Why did you bother to remember?” She waits for him. “Looking for a bounty of your own? You know, Whitestone’s coffers could probably cover our debt.”

He frankly hadn’t thought of that. “Maybe - probably not the best use of our funds, what with the rebuilding, the refugees, and the…” 

Dragons, yes. The dragons. 

The airy snowfall is heavy with the reminder. 

Vex sobers immediately. “That wasn’t - I’m sorry, that was in poor taste.”

“You were only joking, Vex,” he assures her. “I know.”

They fall silent. Vex might be listening in to the conversation up ahead - Grog describing with great reluctance the old man who apparently made a fool of him, Pike and Vax pressing him for details. Percy might want to, but he can’t, not quite. 

There’s still a voice, in the back of his mind, where the smoke used to be. It’s his voice, his own, a nagging little conscience that had been even smaller still when engulfed by the demon’s might. Chilling, still, to remember that. 

No: he’s listening to recent memory. 

(“Why would I listen to the cursed heir, who wallows in self-pity, begging to be trusted again?”)

He wants to fix things, badly. Somehow. Can’t: not Emon, not Vasselheim’s indifference, he can’t even pay off a bounty. 

A stray flake lands on his glasses. For a moment, Vox Machina ahead are framed and fractured by icy architecture smaller than he can fathom. Then it melts, and they’re a blur. 

Percy scowls to himself, huffing as he pulls his glasses off, fusses around for his kerchief in his coatpocket. There’s a tell-tale crackle of rucked paper, and oh, he can salvage this!

“Besides,” he tries. It comes out weaker than he’d like, so he gives it another shot: “Besides: I was not exactly memorizing the bulletin board.”

Vex gives him a little oh, curiosity clearly piqued. So he unfurls his prize with a grin. Her next oh is much more dramatic. He takes it as praise and warms appropriately - Vex is not one to dole that out lightly. 

He holds out the wanted poster with no small amount of pride. It’s torn at the top, from where it had been nailed in, still bearing a clean cut through its heart courtesy of Kashaw’s magic. 

“Percy, dear!” Vex gasps. She almost sounds impressed - or maybe indulgent. The thought should rankle him, but he takes it gladly. “Since when are you a thief?”

“Figured you could use a souvenir,” he says. As he’s talking, he realizes that’s a flimsy excuse for the uncharacteristic behavior, and adds: “Maybe they will lose track of the exact bounty without the reminder handy? Though I doubt they’ll forget your face.”

“So I’m unforgettable, hm?” She’s fishing for compliments: he sees the hook in her smile. (He’s very tempted to bite.) 

“Maybe.”

(Are they flirting? Is this what’s happening? What is happening?!) 

Vex gestures lazily with her hand. “Give that here.” 

Percy obliges, peering over her shoulder as she scrutinizes her likeness. It’s a touch difficult, with the angle, to compare her to the sketch. The mugshot has no trace of baby fat - how old were the twins when they went through this phase? He casts a furtive glance at her ears - the divots where piercings could go exist still. He’s also close enough to see that. Shit. 

“They didn’t get my nose right,” Vex complains, thwacking the parchment with the back of her hand. 

“I’m sure we can go back and leave a scathing review of their portraitist.” She giggles. “Is the rest accurate?”

Percy, loathe to admit it, wants to know. Very badly. 

Vex, oblivious to how he’s schooling his features, nods. “Oh, mostly. I don’t think I had any tops showing that little cleavage, though.”

Percy sputters. “What-”

She elbows him in the side. “Kidding.” A wink. “Mostly.” 

While Percy wrestles with his vivid imagination (he was perfectly willing to believe he’d imagined the smoke demon offering very detailed inspiration - this mind is a wretchedly creative thing), she continues: “It’s pretty much as I remember it. Very punk - it was fun, but not helpful for finding work. Catch more flies with honey than vinegar and all. Though Vax never really grew out of it.”

Percy squints at the dark shape ahead, arguing now with Scanlan about which way to go. “You don’t say.”

There’s a smile in her voice: satisfied, and perhaps smarting still. “We weren’t exactly the sort mommy dearest would approve of. Still aren’t, really.”

“I’d beg to differ.” Except he can’t, because his - Percy swallows so hard he feels it in his teeth. “Heroes of Emon, and Whitestone. Soon Tal’Dorei itself.”

Vex goes quiet. Not the easy lull of breaths and walking - striving for silence, to hide. Percy pauses, confused, and gives her time to unfreeze. 

“It’s strange,” she says, more to herself than him. It almost feels like a private moment, despite their ongoing conversation; Percy scrutinizes his boots. “Not used to being wanted, you know? You saw how it was, back there. Vax and I have rarely been popular, especially not as little punks.”

When he next looks back to her, Vex is whittling at him with her eyes. “Why the interest, darling? Want to give the look a try?”

He thinks of smoke and a hot gunbarrel and black powder. Shivers. “Not really, no.“

The truth of the matter is: he swiped the poster on a whim. No carefully considered advantage was to be gained, justification found only in hindsight. Because there was something about Vex with the piercings and the teardrop tattoo and the choker (the choker) that made him incredibly stupid in the moment. 

He’s Percival de Rolo. He’s never stupid. He can’t be stupid. Why is this whole thing making him stupid?

(Like he said - not stupid. He knows damn well why and hopes it will pass him by and quickly, before he does anything idiotic.)

(He just… wanted it.)

(Wanted her?)

(Oh, dear.)

“The tattoo.” He almost blurts it out - barely, barely it comes out casual. “Does Vax still have the gods-awful thing?”

“I think so,” Vex says. She grimaces. “That really was a look, huh? Too much eyeliner, made him look perpetually sad.”

“So sad,” Percy agrees as Vax hollers, “What about my look?!”

Falling snow slowly speckles the parchment with weak moisture as they heckle Vax, until a brief game of keep-away ends with it skidding over the snow by behest of the wind, lapping melt as it goes. By the time Percy catches it, half the twins’ faces are bleeding smears of black ink. 

(He’ll think of that image, later.)

(Later.)

(For now, they laugh and brush off the snow and continue on. Percy, warm despite the snow up his shirt. And trying very, very hard not to think about that choker.)

#tlovm #the legend of vox machina #tlovm spoilers #tlovm fanfic #tlovm fic #critical role #perc'ahlia #percahlia #percival de rolo #vex'ahlia #tlovm s2 #Look Percy was 100% flirting with her in the tomb!! he WAS!! and I think they deserve a little more flirting. as a treat. for me. #my writing

[teejaystumbles]

I wrote this after I drew the picture with Hob in a corset earlier. 👀 I needed more background to that scene. I also needed 1789 Hob taken down a peg. ( I usually don't write smut AND I USUALLY DON'T WRITE SO. please be gentle, I don't even know how to tag this) (also on AO3)

1789

The Lord of the Dreaming returns to his castle and to his rooms. He didn't want to end the evening with Hob so early, but for his safety it is the wiser choice. He acknowledges his feelings grudgingly. Talking, nay, bantering with Hob...it has been amusing, pleasant... and he did not wish to leave. He hopes the man did get home safely.

Dream steps up to a mirror in his room and with a flick of his finger the mirror is showing him Hob Gadling. He is alone in a bedroom. So he did get home safely. Dream sighs.

Hob seems to be getting ready for bed, he is currently disrobing, hands untying the lace ribbon from his hair. He has already shed his coat, vest and trousers and is standing in tights, shirt and...corset. Dream raises an eyebrow. It is a common enough fashion choice of men this century, but Dream has never considered Hob would be so vain to choose fashion over comfort.

For you he would, a dark, knowing voice in his head whispers. He watches as Hob slowly untangles his hair. He looks dejected, troubled. Have Dream's words reached him? Or is he only sorry for their evening being cut short?

Is this what you would have shown me, Hob? The way you have forged your new self out of the blood and bones of less fortunate beings? What would you have me do to make you see?

Hob sighs and stretches, cracking the bones of his back and groaning. Dream appreciates the way the corset shapes his waist and silhouette.

Maybe you require...a personal nightmare...

Dream delicately places the tips of his fingers on the glass of the mirror. He imagines laying his hand on the flat expanse of soft fabric above Hob's pelvis, imagines gripping his hips hard and pulling the ribbons at his back tighter.

On the other side of the mirror, Hob gasps and reaches out for something to steady himself. His other hand grapples for the corset's ribbon but Dream blows softly on the glass and Hob shivers and falls to his knees with a broken cry, his hand flying instead to the back of his neck. He looks around wildly, fear and confusion in his eyes as the lights flicker out and he is left in darkness. Dream pulls the ribbons again.

Hob squeezes his eyes shut and moans. The pain is the tightness of ropes digging into flesh, rubbing it raw, drawing blood. It is a hand around his neck, choking him. It is a lash against his back. Another puff of breath from Dream is a gust of stale, rancid air full of the choking smell of sickness and human waste.

Hob sobs and claws at his throat and back. He can't get the ribbon open. His ribs are creaking under the strain. Dream pulls tighter.

"Please..." Hob whines, blind in the darkness, packed in with a hundred other bodies, the floor under his feet rolling, swaying him back and forth against others, inciting new pain on old wounds.

Dream hums and Hob hears a sound like nothing before, the sound of a being larger than the ship, a deep sonorous tone rising higher and higher until it is a shriek of pain, a cracking of bones and Hob sinks to the floor with another cry of anguish as his ribs crack under the whalebone corset.

"Please...mercy..." he begs, voice hoarse and broken, barely being able to breathe. His eyes search the darkness, tears streaming down his face.

"My friend...mercy... I'll change... I'll stop it, I swear! Please..."

Dream's eyebrows rise. Hob...means him, he's fairly sure. He has seemingly connected the dots, that only a being such as him could be responsible for these illusions.

Well.

"Don't forget this feeling, Hob. Never forget." he murmurs against the glass, his lips leaving no trace on it. Hob's eyes widen as a well-known voice whispers in his ear, the phantom brush of lips making him shiver and jerk. He tries looking behind him but Dream quickly pushes him down with a strong hand on his neck. Dream, overtaken by a feeling of desire and fondness he's been holding at bay this whole evening, let's his hand on Hob's stomach drift lower, finding his already stiff cock pressing up against his shirt. Dream curls his fingers delicately around it, squeezing him through the cotton fabric. Then he releases the ribbon and let's Hob breathe.

The man lets out a long groan and gasps, drawing in air desperately. He is coming, a whine escaping from behind clenched teeth, face pressed against the floor boards. He gasps and heaves afterwards, short on breath, and stays where Dream has put him. It makes something soft unfurl in Dream's chest. He withdraws quietly and the lights in the room flicker back on.

Against his mirror, the Dream Lord places his lips in a kiss and Hob gives a full-body shudder at the feel of them against his lower back, between the laces of the corset.

"Goodnight, Hob." he bids him the second time tonight, but he is stepping away - Hob can't hear it. The mirror goes dark.

In his room, Hob slowly pulls himself to his knees and just sits for a minute, heaving. He closes his eyes and wipes over his face. He knows what he has to do come morning. With a sniffle he whispers hoarsely: "Thank you..."

#no i dont think Dream has to be aroused atter this I think he can choose not to be #this was a lesson and a pat on the head for Hob #he shouldn't read too much into it #dreamling #own writing #dream of the endless #hob gadling #corset #bit of s/m #breathplay

[freddieslater]

Ok first of all, the name change confused me sm I thought I lost your user. Second of all, I hate you so much. You gave me a taste and now I’m addicted, but can’t get my fix because the drug is discounted, I’m going insane why did you do this to me

(Drug = stHudson|jesse/finn)

It has taken me about 9 months to answer this, so I'm sorry about that, first of all. However, your dealer is back in business and good to supply you with another hit of the good stuff, free of charge as extra apology. This is a continuation of the original St. Hudson drabble I wrote, set after Rachel did "Run, Joey, Run". <3

It's probably common knowledge to just about everyone that Finn doesn't really understand a lot of things that other people do. However, he thought he at least knew some things. Like, when someone suggests having lunch together, it's usually followed by an agreement to make an arrangement of some sort.

The other person doesn't usually just slide onto the bench across from them the next day and start taking food off of their tray like it's some sort of routine. Do they?

This is what has been going on in Finn's mind for the last ten minutes. Or has it been longer? He's lost track of just about anything, including his thoughts, from the second that Jesse joined his table in the cafeteria.

It occurs to him that he hasn't caught a single thing that he's been saying, either. Something about that strikes him as familiar, but that thought leads to thinking about Rachel, and he doesn't really feel like doing that right now when the whole "Run, Joey, Run" thing is still so fresh.

A quick, sharp snap brings him back. He focuses on Jesse, his eyes widening slightly as he tries to figure out how to ask him to repeat his entire rant without making it obvious he just zoned out. Or if he even wants him to repeat himself at all. Chances are, he won't understand it any better the second time around.

Before he can say anything more than, "Um--" Jesse takes the reins.

"So, you are still in there," he says, but the remark isn't as scathing as it might have once been. His head tilts to one side, fingers steepling under his chin as he observes Finn with furrowed brows. "So, what do you think?"

Finn blinks. "Um. What do I think?"

"Mhm." He's fearful momentarily that that's all he's going to get, and wonders again how he's going to lie his way through this interaction, only for Jesse to thankfully continue, "I mean, if we're going to do a duet to truly show Rachel that her pathetic little triple-act casting was the last straw for both of us, then it's going to have to be a song that really means something. I would choose it myself from my revenge playlist, but we should really draw on both of our emotions towards her, so what song would you say really captures your resentment, and your anguish, your deep-seated pain and loathing for Rachel?"

Finn blinks again. "Wait, we're doing a duet? When?"

If Jesse hadn't already figured out that he was not paying attention before, he's tipped off now. "On Wednesday? Mr Schue's next assignment for the week is going to be about moving on, and healing from past traumas. It's the perfect time to show Rachel that she hurt us and we will not let her walk all over us again."

"Past traumas?" Finn repeats. His mind goes briefly to his dad. "Are you sure singing about Rachel is really the best way to... show her you're over her? I mean, no offence, dude, but it might just make her think that we're still, like, hung up on her or something."

Jesse frowns. He takes a beat before quietly saying, "Maybe you're right." He leans back, his expression thoughtful now. "She's so vain and self-centered, of course she'd misinterpret the entire thing." He looks up at him so suddenly that Finn startles slightly. "We could sing 'She's So Vain', it's a classic."

Sighing, Finn says, "Look, Jesse, I get it. You're hurt. I was a bit, too. But maybe the best way to show her that you're not just gonna forgive her and get back with her is to -- to just... move on. You know, like Mr Schue wants us to do? You gotta let it go, dude."

"If that was your way of suggesting we sing that atrocious number from 'Frozen' then I am calling for a veto. My vocal talents will not be going to waste for a single second on that movie."

"I don't even know what that is," Finn say truthfully, and a little confused, as he always seems to be when Jesse's the one talking to him. "But, no. I'm saying to just... stop. Stop obsessing over what she did, and just forget about it. You broke up with her. It's over."

He shrugs, finally picking up his slice of soggy pizza to take a bit of it. After all, it's about the only thing left on his tray after Jesse somehow managed to pinch more or less everything else whilst talking at the speed of a bullet train.

Jesse continues to stare at him. It's a little bit unnerving. Finn just looks away and tries to ignore him, chewing self-consciously. Finally, he catches movement in his peripheral and looks back up to find Jesse once again leaning back, but this time with a look about him as if he's been stunned by something.

"You know, Finn," he says softly, "people really don't give you enough credit. You're smart. For someone who just seems to be stumbling his way through each day with those... large limbs and tall frame, and that amazingly, beautiful stereotypical jock body of yours... you're probably actually right."

He nods to himself like he's just had wisdom imparted on him by Yoda. Meanwhile, Finn's still slowly chewing in confusion, trying to work out if he was just complimented and insulted at the same time. Jesse's way of speaking is like one big riddle. There's a reason that Finn prefers the Joker as a villain, and it's not just because he really likes Heath Ledger. Though, that does have a big part in it, too.

"So," Jesse says, and he smiles, "what do you suggest we sing instead? I think we can still conform to Mr Schue's assignment about healing and moving on by singing something like 'I Want To Break Free' but if we wanted to do something more out there, there is always 'The Reason' by Hoobastank. I would prefer something a touch more classic over rock but it's a good song nonetheless. I just don't know if it's right for us."

Jesse steeples his fingers under his chin once more, looking pensive as he ponders it to himself. Finn watches him, pondering the fact that yesterday, they could barely stand to be seated next to each other in the choir room, and now today they're an "us" and trying to figure out what to sing for a duet. He's not even actually sure when he agreed to do a duet.

But, the more he thinks about it, the less opposed to the idea he becomes. Sure, it'll be a bit weird. Okay, a lot weird, but the dude's not a bad singer, an at the very least, he won't have to do too much worrying over what to sing as Jesse seems to be taking the lead on that so far. Unless he picks something way too embarrassing.

When he asks again what Finn thinks, he shrugs an says, "I don't know. I guess it's hard to pick something because... well, we don't really know each other. How are we supposed to sing something together about, you know, moving on and stuff when we... haven't really moved on from anything? At least, not together, you know, you and me."

Jesse almost looks affronted at that. "What do you mean? I thought after our conversation yesterday at your locker about Rachel that we were friends."

"Well..." Finn chuckles. "Dude, it's not that easy. Sure, I don't hate you and I guess you don't hate me but, like, we're not... really... friends." Seeing the look on his face, almost crestfallen, he for some reason finds himself hastening to backtrack. "Look, I don't mean that I don't want to be. It's just that, to be friends with someone, you've gotta do a lot more than just have one conversation where you agree to have lunch."

Frowning, Jesse uncertainly asks, "Like what? Surely singing together is the best way to get to know someone. It usually works for me."

"I'm sure it does. But you just gotta know more. You gotta hang out more, do things together, tell each other stuff, you know. Like, what's your favourite colour?"

"My favourite colour? How does knowing that make us friends?" he asks doubtfully, but at Finn's insistence, he rolls his eyes. "Orange."

"Mine is red," Finn replies and grins. "See, a normal conversation isn't that hard, dude, you just gotta be willing to try. Open up a bit."

Nodding slowly, Jesse seems to mull this over as Finn finishes off his pizza and downs half of his water. When he's done, Jesse has finally come to some kind of conclusion on the concept of friendship.

"So, what kind of things do you like to do other than Glee?" he asks.

"Well, I mostly do football. I'm pretty tired by the time I get home from practice most weekdays, so I don't get a chance to do a lot else, but sometimes I'll watch TV. I really like game shows."

"Game shows," Jesse repeats, but it isn't to mock him. He actually brightens up the more they talk, and begins asking more questions. Does he like arcades? Shopping? Malls? Road trips?

Finn has just finished telling him that he would love to go on a road trip someday but he and his mom just haven't really had the time or money to do it in the past when the bell goes.

"I could take you on one," Jesse says quickly when it stops. "I have a car. We could go this weekend. It would give us a chance to think some more on a song for our duet and... get to know each other more."

For some reason, the suggestion stuns him. Probably because, once again, they couldn't stand each other yesterday. How does something like that change so much in just twenty-four hours?

Even now, he's hesitant to agree to it. A weekend with only Jesse for company? Sure, this had been kinda nice, and he's actually not the worst company, but lunch is only forty minutes. A weekend is more like forty hours.

Yet he can't bring himself to say no. Something about the way Jesse's looking at him. Turning him down feels like he would be denying a puppy a treat for doing a trick. After all, he did just tell him that to be a friend, you have to put in a little effort. The guy's trying.

"Uh... sure," he finally says, standing from the bench. A smile spreads across his face at the way Jesse positively lights up. "Yeah, why not? Where do you wanna go?"

They still haven't actually answered that question when the weekend comes around. Finn hops into Jesse's car and waves goodbye to his mom, who is probably just glad to have the house to herself for once. He then turns to Jesse as he starts up the engine.

Once again, he asks where they're going. Jesse begins on what is sure to be a twenty-minute run-down of a fully itemized plan for the following two days. Finn hears "Nashville" and decides that's all he really needs to know. He reaches forward and turns on the radio while Jesse pulls away from his house.

A few songs later, "Fast Car" by Tracy Chapman starts playing. His fingers drum along to it on his thigh and Jesse interrupts his tangent to gush over the vocals before diving into the song himself. Finn joins him, caught up in his own soft spot for the song after hearing his mom play it for hours. They're both singing as they speed down the motorway. Together. The weekend has barely started but already something else has. A duet, of sorts.

#spicy-cannoli #ask away earthlings #glee #st. hudson #finn hudson #jesse st. james #finn x jesse #jesse x finn #rowing the rarepair rowboat #spicy 🌶️ 🔥 ❤️

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

A Beautiful Mind

Title: A Beautiful Mind

Summary: You had begged Kol not to put you to sleep. You had told him of the sights that haunted your nightmares - red lights and black water. He never could have guessed that the safest place for you would turn out to be the most dangerous. Three Doors Down - Part Three || Kol x Disabled!reader || Here are parts one and two || Here lies my Masterlist

Word Count: 10,000

Warnings: Fear of drowning, talk about death, violence, blood. Oh, also a weird as all frick dream sequence - it's not supposed to make sense, just keep that in mind.

A/N: Fun Fact, this fic originally started as a self-insert because I actually live with hearing loss and speech aphasia. So to everyone who has been supportive of this mini-series, I just wanted to say thank you. Enjoy this finale, I hope it lives up to expectations.

Checking his watch for what was surely the millionth time that day, Kol tore his hands through his hair, cursing under his breath as he leaned his head back against the wall of his broom-closet prison. Waiting was torture; each minute felt like an eternity and the space wasn't even big enough for him to stretch his legs out all the way. He was so hungry. Bloody hell! He was starving! There were so many warm bodies in the rooms surrounding him. Oh, what he wouldn't give to sink his teeth into just one - any of them would do, yet there was a certain one he couldn't seem to take his mind off of. Try as he might, she was all Kol could think about. Y/N. Her dry wit, her dazzling smile, her quiet strength, her captivating eyes, her perfect lips, her soft skin… her blood. 

Warm and thick and-

No! 

Stop. Don't go there.

Kol groaned, drawing his knees up to his chest in a vain effort to relieve just a fraction of the excruciating pain in his stomach. He couldn't stop thinking about her, no matter what he tried. Where was Y/N by now? Probably in Mystic Falls already. The thought pained him - she shouldn't be anywhere near that wretched town. She should have been with him. 

He didn't care if it made him weak, Kol wanted her back. He just wanted her back, safe and sound. He just wanted to have her back so he could make her laugh and smile in that adorable way that made him want to smile too. He wanted to hold her, and kiss her, and feel her, and… and… He wanted to listen to her heart race and he wanted to bury his teeth into her tender flesh. She'd been so good the first time, she hadn't fought him and she'd tasted divine. The memory made his mouth water. Her blood - hot and thick and sweet like candy. He'd stopped too soon, far too soon. He should have had more when he had the chance. Bloody hell, he could still taste her on his tongue. Sweet. So sweet. Sweet like candy…

NO! 

STOP IT! 

STOP!

NOT HER!

He didn't want that, he didn't want to think about her that way. Kol didn't want to hurt her! Because that girl was a lot like him - she had lost parts of herself, things she could never get back. Just like him. Except Kol hadn't had anyone to take comfort in. So for Y/N, he wanted to be the person he'd never had - his way of flipping off the cosmos, perhaps. 

And why shouldn't he? After all that had been stolen from him, after all the injustices and pointless suffering, the universe owed him this much. Cliche as it sounded, Y/N was a light in the dark, radiating joy and enthusiasm like a fire gives off heat. She didn't care about his looks or his charm. He didn't have to do anything to be of worth - just being himself was enough for her. The attention she gave him was free of ulterior motives, and like a starved child, he wanted it all to himself. He didn't mean to be possessive and he would never do anything to harm or disrespect that girl, or keep her from happiness. He adored her! But that was the problem. Kol just didn't know how to let go. One thousand years had been so long, and he'd been so alone. He deserved someone like Y/N. Yet the universe in its infinite cruelty still sought to take her away.

It wasn't fair!

That was why he'd bitten her. 

He hadn't wanted to hurt her, but the alternative was worse. If he hadn't done something drastic, she would have gone back to her life in Denver. The thought of Y/N living her life without him? The chance she might one day fall in love with someone else? He couldn't stand it. He hadn't even known her that long - hardly a week but every day of that week, she had knocked on his door and greeted him with a smile and a hug to say good morning. How could he give that up?

Kol had fed on her because he wanted to keep her. He thought about her because he was worried and he missed her. But the monster under his skin couldn't tell the difference, and it didn't really care to. It just kept torturing him with memories of her blood on his tongue. 

Kol checked his watch and cursed.

All that for eight bloody minutes.

He had to give it to the Gilbert siblings, they were nothing if not persistent and, unfortunately, they weren't entirely brainless. According to the elder Salvatore's gloating, they had gotten their Bennet witch to temporarily deactivate his daylight ring - a feat he would have been impressed by had he not already spent nine and a half hours trapped in a closet because of it. (For all that witch lacked in skill and knowledge, she made up for it in raw power.) Eight floors worth of windowed hallways stood between him and the building's exit. He could get out if he tried and he would survive the journey, but it would be excruciating and ultimately pointless as his car did not have specially treated windows and attempting to drive whilst he burned alive wasn't exactly feasible.

Now, Kol was well aware that despite appearances, Y/N was far from helpless - she'd proven that much. However, she wouldn't be able to hold her own against Niklaus. By taking their cousin to Mystic Falls, the Gilberts might as well simply hand-deliver Y/N right into Klaus' hands. If Kol's brother realized how he could use that girl… Kol didn't even want to imagine what the hybrid would do.

Klaus would hurt her.

Kol didn't want to see Y/N hurt.

Bloody hell, he felt awful. He'd promised to protect her and he'd failed spectacularly. Y/N was probably terrified. Kol wished he could help her. He wished he could just see her, but he couldn't!

Unless he could…

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, resting his head against the wall. Calming his mind was difficult, it always had been for him; thoughts tended to race through his mind like gale-force winds and that was on a good day. Now his psyche was plagued with images he'd rather not see, predictions of a future he could only pray he had the power to stop - that frail, bubbly girl sprawled on the ground, drained of the life she gave so freely, and the ground around her stained red, red, red. The worst part was knowing he might be the one to make her that way. He was so hungry.

Kol dragged his hands through his hair and let loose a string of curses. He needed to find her, but to do so required him to focus on the present and at the moment he could do anything but. Perhaps this was how Y/N often felt, reaching for something she knew she possessed, yet always coming up short. That was when she'd start doing all those adorable nervous ticks he loved so much. Kol pictured her - the way she'd snap her fingers and bounce on her toes, biting her lip just right and every time she did so it made him want to kiss her senseless. That thought made him smile and he caught hold of it. Pushing away the fear and hunger, he leaned his head back and reached out, letting that radiant vision guide him to the girl he'd come to adore.

"Alright, darling," He muttered. "Where are you?"

Y/N was dreaming. Her magnificent light was easy to distinguish; the way her cognizance flickered and danced, out of sync with the other mortal minds populating the world, was beautiful. It was something he'd never seen before, yet more familiar to him somehow than he'd thought possible. Kol focused on that light, let it envelop him in an embrace that felt as warm and genuine as the girl it came from, and then he was falling backward into a dream that wasn't his. 

He saw black at first and started walking, his hand soon meeting a wall which he used to guide himself down what he quickly discovered to be a hallway of some kind. The gentle notes of piano chords could be heard playing from somewhere ahead of him and he moved along the hall towards the sound. A dim light flickered to life over his head, barely illuminating the few feet in front of him - the rest of the hall remained black as pitch. Kol glanced up to watch as the light wavered and changed, the dull glow began to oscillate between colors. 

Red to blue. 

Then white.

To red.

To blue.

To red.

To blue.

Then white.

Then red.

The colors continued to shift and Kol frowned. He remembered Y/N had said something about lights as he'd compelled her to sleep. She'd begged him not to, mumbling some gibberish about red lights and black water. What had she meant by that? What made it important enough to mention in her last moments of wakefulness? Kol didn't know, and he hated not knowing. 

Although, now that there was some light to be had, Kol noticed that there were doorways lining each side of the corridor - a mental maze of sorts - except this one was different than any he'd traversed before. In Y/N's mind, the doors did not stay put. He watched as these gateways to her memories faded in and out of existence, seemingly at random.

He grimaced. Whatever happened next was bound to be interesting.

"Y/N!" He raised his voice and shouted down the corridor. "YN, it's me - it's Kol! Can you hear me?" 

There was no response - just more piano notes sounding from the dark expanse ahead of him. It seemed forward was the only stable direction he could go, so he started moving and the light moved with him, maintaining its position over his head. 

After what seemed like hours of walking, Kol arrived at the hallway's end. A simple dark green door, the same as the one she'd resided behind in Denver - three doors down from his - stood in front of him. The chords of a piano drifted from beyond it, louder and stronger now that he was so close. 

Kol paused. Should he knock? Before he could decide, he was stopped by the sound of an unfamiliar voice intertwining with the music emanating from behind the door. 

"Y/N, dinner's ready!"

The warmth was what startled him. The warmth and the love that he could feel radiating from the memory just beyond that door was baffling. It was something entirely mundane - as ordinary and as common as grass - but the sound made Kol smile because it was something he'd never really had. 

"Y/N/N? You gonna come down? It's time to eat, sweetheart!"

That voice could only belong to a mother - one who loved her child with all her heart and soul - and just for a moment, Kol let himself bask in the sound.

He moved to touch the door's handle and a blinding light erupted in front of him, engulfing his senses in white. The next moment, Kol stumbled forward into what must have been a teenage Y/N's bedroom.

The setup was nothing extraordinary. There was a bed, a dresser, a nightstand - just the basics. The only feature truly of note was the antique piano and the girl sitting in front of it. Once again, her beauty stunned him. Those perfectly sweet, kissable lips, that small but tempting figure, and those wide, vulnerable eyes - so open and genuine - that made him want to hold her tight and never let go. Especially now, when those eyes were filled with sorrow and tears. 

Her fingers expertly stroked the piano's old yet well-kept keys, turning out a blissful, dream-like melody, though her face displayed an altogether different set of emotions. Kol could read the desperate frustration in her clenched and grinding teeth and the dreadful sorrow in the line of her brow and the glistening in her eyes.

"Y/N? Are you alright up there?" 

The piano music stopped and Y/N began to cry. The sight tugged at Kol's heart - to see someone he knew was so much stronger than she looked break down in tears was heart wrenching. He wanted to comfort her, but he didn't know how. Emotions were messy things and he'd never been very good at handling his own, let alone anyone else's, but for Y/N he was willing to try. He moved with a certain degree of caution over to the piano and sat down on the bench beside her. The girl's tears were quiet little things - not the kind she would want to share much about but he could try anyway. He tapped his fingers against his knees, unsure of what to say.

"Why are you crying?" He asked gently, hoping his mere presence wouldn't frighten her. The girl straightened and wiped her tears but didn't turn to him.

"Had a… had-had a, um… a bad day." She shrugged. Her voice held little emotion. "Lots of yesterday-ays ago. O-okay now… all g-one."

Reliving an old memory wasn't uncommon, he supposed. Although, most people he'd dream walked with weren't aware they were dreaming until they woke up. Perhaps lucid dreams were another side effect of Y/N's strange mind. 

"I see." He nodded. "Hello, Y/N."

She smiled slightly and hummed in return. She didn't seem to be in the talking mood and that only made this harder. Kol tentatively touched her hand - he just wanted her to look at him but she didn't. She just tugged on his hand and placed it on her thigh so she could play with his rings, slipping them off to examine each one. It was almost painful to watch her, not knowing what she was thinking and she wouldn't talk to him - for the love of Thor - she wouldn't even look at him! He had a thousand things he wanted to say but none of them were helpful.

"So… what about now? Are you alright?" It was pathetic, but it was the best he could come up with.

She shook her head.

Kol's eyes darkened. "Did they hurt you?" He forced the words out through clenched teeth.

She shook her head again and he relaxed a little.

"Do you…" He hesitated. "- want to talk about it? Believe it or not, I actually have some experience with being rendered unconscious by members of my family." That actually got a reaction out of her.

Y/N's hands stilled and she turned her head slowly to stare at him. "What the hell?" She mouthed silently. Her expression was a perfect picture of baffled confusion and it took quite a bit of willpower on his part not to laugh. Though he couldn't refrain from cracking a smile. 

He shrugged. "I have weird siblings. What can I say?" He would tell her the disturbing truth later. For now, he made light of it. The corners of Y/N's lips twitched up, trying to smile while the rest of her expression turned even more bewildered. 

"That-that's not-" She stammered, at a loss for words. Kol placed a hand on his chest, feigning offense.

"This isn't a laughing matter, darling. My family takes the game of croquet very seriously!" Humor as medicine was an excellent strategy and his appeared to be working. Y/N snickered, rolling her eyes. "Ah, ah! What did I say about laughing?" He playfully chastised.

"Mm-mm -" She hummed, shaking her head as she fought to keep the grin off her face. "- I-I-I not… I'm not laugh-aughing."

"Really?" He smirked. "What's this then?" Kol poked her in the ribs and Y/N jumped, letting go of a little squeal. "What was that?" He poked her again in a slightly different spot and she twisted, grinning. "What was that, Y/N? Was that a giggle?"

Upon realizing his new plan, her eyes flew wide and she slapped his hand away. "Uh, uh! Nope!" She held up a finger as if as a warning.

"Are you sure?" He drawled, squeezing her thigh. She pushed that hand away too and shifted away from him.

"Uh, huh. Yeah." She nodded. Kol sighed, shrugging - letting her believe she'd won. 

"Nah, I don't believe you."

He poked at her again and Y/N giggled as she jumped back in an attempt to dodge his assault. She very nearly fell off the bench, but caught herself at the last second and stood, backing away from him with a smile on her face. Kol grinned and followed, shifting into a predatory stance. Y/N tried to out maneuver him but it wasn't long before he had her backing into a corner.

"Don-don't tickle!" She said, matching his steps. 

"Surrender and I won't have to," He replied, smirking down at her. He had her fully backed into the corner, trapping her there with an arm on either side of her head. 

"Mmm-mm!" She shook her head, keeping her lips sealed to stay her laughter.

Kol sighed, overdramatic. "Then you leave me no choice but to force you." Y/N snickered and ducked under his arm but he turned swiftly and caught her by the waist, picking her up as if she weighed little more than a feather. In a blink, he'd tossed her onto the bed and climbed over her, attacking her sides without mercy. Y/N squealed with laughter as he found her sweet-spot, she giggled and squirmed but couldn't escape. The sound of her laughter was the most joyful thing Kol had ever heard. "Being adorable won't save you, darling. You have to say it!" He declared.

"I-I sur-sur- ACK! No! No, wait! I sur-ur-en… surred-der!" She cried.

Kol grinned and moved off her, making himself comfortable on the bed as he watched her catch her breath.

"Uh, F- uh… F- you," She grumbled.

"Please," He hummed, grinning cheekily. The girl rolled her eyes and smacked his chest. He laughed, catching her hand before she could pull it back and tangling their fingers together.

"In- in your d-dreaming," She chuckled.

"Yours, actually," He pointed out.

Y/N sent him a look. "No."

"I'm just saying-"

"Kol…"

"Why not? It'll pass the time! I've still got another six hours till the sun goes down and I can get out of this closet, and who knows how long it will be until you wake up," He reasoned. Y/N just snorted, shaking her head. "You really should be more open to new experiences, darling. Didn't your parents ever teach you that?" 

He turned to watch her with a proud grin, his obnoxious attitude having won a full-on laugh from the girl. She closed her eyes and shifted closer. Her cheeks were tinged with pink and it was then that he remembered just how hungry he was. It wasn't his fault. Her flushed cheeks just looked so appetizing, even in a dream, and her heartbeat pounded deliciously in his ears. His smile faded and his eyes drifted to the artery pulsing in her neck.

"Ko-l?" 

"Hmm?" He forced himself to tear his eyes away - to look at her. 

Y/N was watching him with caution, one brow raised. "You okay-ay?" She asked. She was an observant girl. He really needed to learn how to keep his hunger in check. Before now, he'd never had a reason to.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" He replied, forcing a smile. 

She saw right through him, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Hungry?" 

Kol nodded, unable to meet her eyes. He wasn't ashamed of what he was - not anymore. He was ashamed that he allowed her blood to tempt him. He was 1,000 years old, he should have been better than this. "I'm sorry. It's just been a while since I… Well, since I had anything to eat, and let's just say I've never been the best at curbing my appetite," He admitted. She deserved the truth. His truth wasn't pretty.

Y/N blinked. "O-oh…" She cleared her throat and shifted her gaze to the ceiling.

And now he'd freaked her out, good on him.

"B-but this is a dream," He quickly added, trying to reassure Y/N somewhat. "I can't hurt you in here, not really. You're safe."

The girl nodded slowly but her lips remained pressed together and her eyes stayed fixed overhead. 

He sat up a little, looking over her with concern. "Darling?" He tried. She turned her head, refusing to look at him. A flash of something painful ripped through his heart and he touched her arm. "Wait, Y/N/N. Please don't do that. I didn't mean to scare you. I promise you're safe, I promise I won't do anything… I-I'm not a monster. I-I promise."

She turned back, looking up at him with those stunning E/C eyes. "Ca-an you?" She whispered. 

"Can I… what?"

"Pr-prom-omise that," She said. "Keep it?" 

He wanted to answer yes, immediately and without a doubt, but the truth was he didn't really know. All Kol knew was that he needed her in his life and that he'd be willing to do almost anything to keep her in it. This sensation he felt when he looked at her wasn't something he knew how to deal with - it felt a little bit like the hunger he was so familiar with, but it wasn't painful. She looked so beautiful from this angle, with her hair all spread out around her head, like a haloed angel. He couldn't help but think back to two nights before - the life in her eyes, how she had felt beneath him, so soft and warm. He craved her presence in every moment and he knew that it was selfish, selfish, selfish. Kol had never tried to control himself before and it was a lot harder than he'd thought anything could be. It was selfish of him to put her in that sort of danger, but he just couldn't help it. He needed her. So he would try his best to keep her safe, especially from himself.

"Anything for you," He murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. He couldn't resist leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. He loved the way she smiled. 

Her eyes left his and she reached up to play with his necklace - nothing special, just a stone with a few sigils carved into it attached to a black cord. He'd made the thing when he was human… so maybe it was a little special. 

"Does it… being, uh… being… being here? No, not-not that one… Um… being, um…" She snapped her fingers. Kol had no idea what she was trying to say so he stayed silent, watching her bite her lip and wishing she would let him do that for her. "Does… Does being, uh… close! Yeah, close! Does being close… close t-to me  w-when, uh, when you're hun-hungry… does it hur-rt?"

The girl had been kidnapped twice in thirty six hours and she was still worried about him. What an angel. He smiled softly, stroking her cheek.

"A little bit," Kol admitted. "But you're worth it, and I'll be okay." He laid back down - looking down on her like that was just too tempting. "What about you?" He wondered, changing the subject. "You have been handling all this remarkably well."

The girl nodded, shrugging. "S-scared and lot-lots of wor-ords," She said. "But okay."

He raised a brow. "You mean questions?"

"Uh, huh. Yeah."

"Well, go ahead and ask, darling. We've got plenty of time." He grinned.

"Quest-estion one-" She started. "What the hell?"

Kol barked a laugh. "Understandable. Would you like to hear what the hell from the beginning or just the reader's digest?"

"A-all the hell," She deadpanned.

"Are you sure? That's quite the long story, love," He warned, grimacing slightly.

Y/N raised a brow. "How, uh… how-how many y-years?"

"How old am I?" He clarified. She nodded. "I'm nearly one thousand years old." Her eyes flew wide. "Although, physically I'm eighteen," He added quickly.

"Huh…" That was all she had to say.

"That doesn't upset you, does it?" He asked hopefully, taking her hand in his and stroking his thumb over the back of it to calm her.

She swallowed thickly and blinked, shaking her head. "I'm-I'm good."

"Still want to hear the whole story?"

She nodded. "Lis-listen-ening."

Kol sighed. "Better get comfy then, this'll take awhile."

The girl snickered and sat up, reaching over him to grab something - a stuffed Y/F/A plush - before settling with her head resting on his chest. She never ceased to surprise him.

Kol couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. Hesitantly, he slipped his arm around her back. "Is this alright?" 

She huffed a laugh and grabbed his other hand, placing it on her waist. Well, if she was okay with it… He tugged her closer and shifted her body so she was practically on top of him. She was warm. He missed being warm.

"Get-get on with, uh, with it," She joked, smiling.

"Alright, alright! Someone's pushy," He grumbled playfully. "I will warn you though, the Chronicles of Baby-Kol are, uh… well, they're a bit of a tear-jerker, so be ready."

"Okay."

Kol took a deep breath, and then he told her everything.

***

Alright, so 'what the hell' from beginning to end turned out to be a lot more than you had thought, but you listened to every word and tried your best to understand. First, he decided to tell you about the curse on his brother. He told you of your cousin Elena's magical blood which was needed to break that curse. Kol made it rather clear that he would not be involved in all the drama if not for the threat on his life. He also made sure to tell you about Stefan and Damon Salvatore - two vampire brothers competing for Elena's favor - as the latter of whom had aided in your abduction.

"I'll kill them both if you want me to, darling. Just say the word and they're dead," He offered, only half joking which was frightening though you'd never admit it.

You shook your head. "No. No dead-ed-ing," You said. "Who can I tri-ick? Which-which one?"

Kol groaned. "Y/N, love, I say this because I care about you… But, for the love of Odin, please don't do anything stupid?" You opened your mouth to protest but he beat you to it. "They are ten times stronger and faster than you. Don't provoke them."

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. "Trick them," You insisted. "Tr-trick! Use it, um, use pity!"

"I thought you said you hate it when people pity you?" Kol said, raising a brow. 

You shrugged. "Gets things."

Kol grinned. "You, darling, are a little two faced devil and I love it." He laughed and pressed a kiss to your hair. "The younger of the two - the one who looks like he's the main character - he'll be the easiest to fool."

You nodded and bit your lip. All this information was great, but not what you truly wanted to know. So you asked the question that had been weighing on your mind since Kol had buried his fangs in your neck. You tapped his chest gently. "How?" You whispered. "How did this, um… br-ring? No, no…"

Kol sighed heavily. "You want to know how I became this, don't you?" You nodded. "I'd hoped you'd give up on that."

"Have to," You said, somewhat apologetic. "Have to know." 

You had to know his past - his reasons. You needed to know why you were here and why he was here with you. You were important to him, even though you weren't sure why, but you could tell that he was trying very hard not to scare you off. Why was he so determined? What did you mean to him?

"I know you do." He cradled you closer and sighed again.

You were good at reading people, you always had been because you had needed to be. So you knew that Kol wasn't being entirely honest with you - he was holding something back. He was lying. Kol was manipulating you to keep you around… and you decided, for the time being, to let him. You knew it was the only way to figure out the truth. People told you more when they didn't think they were telling you anything, and Kol thought he had you in the palm of his hand. It wasn't intentional or malicious, but that was the truth and you needed to figure out the reason behind it.

So you kept your head on his chest, and as he began to speak, you listened. 

"I was born of two worlds. The world of men from my father, and from my mother, the world of magic. My father's people were what yours now call the Vikings, but I, like my mother, was a witch."

Your eyes remained closed as you took note of his heartbeat, his breathing, and the vibrations of his voice. You kept track of each as he spoke, noting every change - every increase in rhythm, every struggle for breath, every fluctuation in tamber. More importantly, however, you paid attention to his hands. 

As he talked, Kol's hands began hesitantly roaming your body. He was gentle with you, and his touches were nothing short of loving. Even though you weren't entirely sure whether or not you were comfortable with being felt up, you chose not to reprimand him for it. It was pretty clear that Kol had been touch starved for most of his life, so he didn't realize everything he was telling you. Trying to figure out his past was too difficult with only the pieces he gave you verbally - he was trying to keep things from you, so you had to use every advantage. Every touch was a clue, a piece of the puzzle and you were rather good at puzzles. 

For the most part, Kol's right hand stayed in the vicinity of your head, neck and shoulders. He took to twisting and tangling your hair around the fingers of his right hand as he told you about his childhood. His early days of mayhem and magic were clearly some of his favorite memories, but you weren't sure how they related to you. Oddly enough, it was his left hand that told you more as he was right hand dominant and thus paid less attention to his other hand.

"Don't laugh, but we had werewolves for neighbors. Everything would have been fine if Niklaus hadn't taken Henrick out to watch them turn."

Kol trailed his hand from your waist over your hip and then down to your thigh. 

"When they came back, Henrick wasn't alive anymore."

His hands stilled and his voice turned distant. He wasn't over the death of his younger brother.

"My parents were devastated. So they elected to do the unthinkable. My mother cast a spell to make us immortal and bound it within us using wine laced with blood."

You found it strange that his voice was so apathetic and devoid of emotion. It was hard to tell whether he was angry or hurting just from his tone because it didn't change much, he kept his voice carefully controlled.

"I didn't realize what my mother had done to us until it was too late," He said. Kol slipped his hand beneath your shirt and you tried not to flinch, just let him caress the skin of your waist. "And I-I tried to run, I tried to warn them - I promise I did - but I-I just wasn't fast enough." He shifted uncomfortably and his right arm tugged you closer to him. "My father caught me. I thought I could outrun him. I ran as fast as I could. 'Kept trying to go faster. But I couldn't and-and then I…" He stopped and you gently pulled yourself away from him, opening your eyes.

You weren't lying on your bed anymore, the ground was dirt and the walls of your room were no longer standing. Instead you were surrounded by shadows and trees. You looked down at Kol and his eyes were far away, his expression drawn tight with fear. He was terrified.

"Wh-what seen n-next?" You asked quietly, hesitantly. You wanted to ask what had happened, but it seemed your brain was no more cooperative than usual. You weren't entirely sure you wanted to know.

Kol shook his head, eyes unfocused. "I-I didn't even know he was there until I felt it…" He whispered. He sounded so young. So scared. "I couldn't hear him behind me. I-I didn't know! If I had, I would have done something, but I didn't, and then… Then he…" The boy trailed off.

"K-ol?"

He closed his eyes and laughed. The sound came from deep in his chest and it wasn't happy at all. When he opened his eyes they were black as pitch. He looked right at you, his right hand moving to cup your cheek. He watched you for a moment, a faint smile gracing his face. Then he leaned up and captured your lips with his and you let him. His kiss was harsh and rough and needy. Kol slid his tongue over your bottom lip, asking you for permission. You denied him because he simply wasn't thinking straight, something was wrong. Kol pulled away, breathing heavily as he rested his forehead against yours. 

"Please, Y/N?" He whispered pleadingly. "I-I need you." He tugged on your shirt. "I need you right now."

"N-no." You shook your head. "I-I can't… You're n-not o-okay… you're not-."

"Not good enough? Is that what you mean?" His voice sounded so pained. "Or is it because I'm not human?"

"No! No, no… Kol I-" You sighed. "Not that. Like you, um, I-I like you… but-but I…" 

"What's so wrong with me?" His lips ghosted over yours as he shook his head. "Why am I more broken than you?"

"Not, Kol! You-you're not!" You wanted to tell him that he was scaring you. You wanted to ask him why he was behaving this way, but you couldn't get the words to come out. "You're sca-ring me."

"Good," Kol said, petting your side. His eyes weren't black, you realized. They were blood red. "You should be scared of me." 

Then his lips were on yours, kissing you so ferociously that you knew he had no intention of stopping. He squeezed your waist and you let out a gasp of pain as his fingers dug into your flesh. But he didn't care. It was like he couldn't even hear you. He sat up with you on his lap but that wasn't enough for him. Suddenly, you were the one one the ground and Kol was hovering over you. There was something wild and desperate in those blood red eyes. Something mad.

"You want to know what happened next, Y/N?" He spoke, his voice like matted silk. "Just look around. This is the spot where it happened - a recreation of it anyway because I'll never forget." He glanced around, admiring the place. Why was his voice so emotionless?! Then his eyes snapped back to you. They were cold. His voice was soft. 

"He murdered us, Y/N," Kol said, stroking your cheek in a way that would have been loving had it not been so frigid. Even when he'd been standing with his arms around you in a crushing grip, greedily draining mouthful after mouthful of your blood, you had never been truly scared of Kol. But now, laying beneath him, completely at his mercy - now you were terrified. "He murdered us, and we all died. Finn slit his wrists because mother told him to. Elijah tried to stop our father from beating Niklaus to death, but he failed and they bled out together. Rebekah died in her sleep, her throat slit by our father's hunting knife. In some twisted way I think he was proud of me. See, I died on my feet. Alone. Here in these woods. My father drove his sword through my heart." Beneath your shirt, Kol moved his hand. He rested it over your heart, tapping lightly. "Right here… and it hurt." He drew his finger in a circle, just grazing your skin. Kol's hands were as cold as death. You knew because you remembered what death had felt like. You tried not to move.

"He killed me!" The boy choked. "He killed me, Y/N! I'm dead!" His voice quieted. He blinked. "Yes, I'm quite dead…" 

Both of you were dead. 

The cold of his hands sank into your bones and took you away. It was so cold. You shivered. Kol grinned and his fangs slid out, ready to tear into your throat. 

You hardly noticed when someone threw him off you.

A familiar voice cried your name.

"Y/N, RUN!"

But you didn't.

You were already drowning.

You were all alone and all you could see was black water and red lights. You were sinking, deeper and deeper beneath the surface. Water filled your lungs and you couldn't breathe! The black water froze your skin and burned your lungs as you desperately tried to claw your way to the surface. The red lights only drew further away from you. All you could do was sink lower, and lower. You couldn't breathe.

You closed your eyes and you were-

Back in your room?

You were back where you had begun. Standing in your room. Across from you stood Kol. His eyes were back to normal - that sweet as chocolate brown - but they were fixed on his feet and he played with his fingers nervously.

"I'm sorry about that," He said quietly. "I-I didn't realize your mind would be so excitable - so reactive to traumatic memories…" 

All the fear crashed in on you then. You screamed, backing away from the boy you'd thought you could trust. "W-hy?! Why did-did you do that to m-me?!" You didn't understand anything that was happening. 

Kol lifted his hands, trying to calm you. "No, no! Y/N/N, that wasn't me!" He claimed. "I promise that wasn't me!"

"Wh-what?!" Nothing made sense and you could still feel the water's chill. You didn't want to die again. You didn't want to drown.

"Darling, listen to me." Kol's voice drew your attention. "Your mind is playing tricks on you - on both of us. It's reacting to our fears and manifesting our nightmares."

You raised a brow, still trying to process what you had just experienced. "Wh-what's ha-happen-ening? I-I don't get! I feel cracking!" You felt shaken, out of control. It was as if there was something else moving in your mind, another force entirely. It was roiling and frothing and angry. 

The water. 

You were going to drown. You were going to die.

"Y/N, I need you to calm down!" He ordered, gritting his teeth. "Your mind is highly encourageable; it's a bit like quicksand really, the more either of us struggles, the deeper we sink," He explained. 

"So how cl-imb out?!" You demanded. Something was pulling at you. You felt light headed. 

"I'm not sure," Kol said. "But I think my worst fear is out to get you, and if that's true, then yours is only minutes behind me. We'll be in more danger the longer we remain entangled like this." 

You froze, looking up at him curiously. "You-you… fear?" You wondered. "You're afr-a-aid?" 

"Yes." Kol nodded. "Yes, that's right, I'm afraid of things too. It's alright to be afraid, love."

"What-what, uh…" You shook your head, blinking. How could he be afraid? What did he have to fear?  "What, um, sca-scares you?"

"I think you've already met it." The boy bit his lip, playing with his fingers. 

Only then did you make the connection. "Bla-lack eyes?" Kol sighed.

"It's just that I-I've, um…" He trailed off, watching you with dark eyes that had never looked so soft. "I've got this real nasty habit of breaking things…" Kol's voice was barely a whisper and you could see the tears in his eyes. "...beautiful things, things that I love - things that make me happy. I bring to desolation everything that I touch. I've done it over and over, countless times, and I'm terrified that I'll do it again." 

He looked up, meeting your eyes and you understood. Kol's worst fear was hurting you in a way you wouldn't forgive - that's what that corrupted version of him had been trying to do. Something slammed against your bedroom door - a fist pounding on wood - and you flinched. Kol's nightmare was trying to get in.

"I've seen your fears too, Y/N," The boy continued. "I've seen the red lights you told me about - the lights of the bridge you saw overhead as the current pulled you under and then the lights of emergency vehicles on your way to the hospital. I saw them."

He'd seen them. 

You were going to drown. You were going to die.

The wall behind Kol transformed into a swirling wave, rushing to flood the room. You screamed, but the impact you were bracing for never came and you felt the boy's hands on your shoulders. You glanced up. The room was as it had been - no water. "Y/N, look at me! You need to calm your mind. If you don't, then once I leave you'll be lost to horror after horror. You need to calm your mind."

But you couldn't. All you could think of was his monster's cold hands, and cold water, and red lights.

"I can't!" You cried. "I-I-I-I can-n't! I can't!"

Kol wrapped his arms around you. He was warm and you clung to him. "Shhhhhh," He whispered. "It's alright, sweet-thing. I won't let you drown."

"C-old!" You choked out. "So cold!"

"I know," He said. "I know it's cold. But I'm right here and I promise you're going to be okay."

You shook your head. You would never be okay - you were far too broken to ever be okay. "Can't f-fix my-my-mysel-f…"

Kol just held you tighter. "You don't need to fix anything, Y/N. I love you just the way you are." He combed his fingers through your hair and pulled you into his lap, pressing against you lovingly. He took your face in his hands and kissed your lips slow and soft, relishing every second of it. Then he stooped low to whisper in your ear, cradling you in his warm gentle arms. "You have a beautiful mind, darling - a powerful, extraordinary, unparalleled mind that is capable of powerful, extraordinary, and unparalleled things. You are the master of its potential, and I promise that one day these nightmares that plague you will fade. There is nothing that you are not capable of overcoming and I think I'm going to enjoy watching you rise." He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead and you hugged him tighter as that lightheaded feeling increased. Your vision flooded with white and Kol's arms disappeared.

When you came around, everything was ringing. Except this time, you were pretty sure that only half of the noise could be attributed to your tinnitus. The rest you blamed on the drugs. 

You groaned. What in the Sam hill had your cousins injected you with? And how on earth had they gotten their hands on hospital grade sedatives?! They don't just sell that sort of stuff at Wal-Mart! Your cousin's extracurricular activities were becoming more and more worrisome the longer you thought about them. 

However, there was a time and a place to worry about such things and neither of those were here and now. For the moment, you needed a plan. 

Step one: Achieve mobility. (This was going to be challenging as your entire body felt like one giant block of lead.)

Step two: Ascertain your whereabouts. (You didn't think your cousins would've taken you someplace dangerous, but then again, they had kidnapped you so there was no telling what they might decide to do next.)

Step three: Negotiate your freedom. (If their willingness to jump to extreme methods was anything to go by, then any attempt to convince your cousins that Kol had merely been trying to protect you might not go over too well. So perhaps it would just be best to convince them that you were free from his wacky mind control whatever-that's-called. )

Step Four: Expect negotiations to go sour. (Elena and Jeremy didn't seem very open-minded about whatever was happening here and words had never been your strength. Hope for the best, expect the worst, right?)

Step Five: Escape via any means necessary. (While peaceful methods would be the prefered option, family or not, use of violent force would also be tolerable. Kol had said that the vampire with the hero hair was the most likely to grossly underestimate you, so you figured he was your ticket.)

Step Six: Find Kol and run. (Kol wanted to keep you safe, that you were sure of. While it was true that he wasn't exactly stable, you were important to him and for now that seemed to be your best advantage. Elena and Jeremy had other priorities and common sense dictated that you side with the possibly ancient vampire over your teenage cousins.)

The surface you were sprawled out on was luxuriously soft - softer than a cloud -  thus your will to get moving was rather illusive. With more difficulty than you thought reasonable, you sat up, scrubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands. You had to blink rapidly for a few moments so your eyes could adjust to the bright sunlight streaming into the room from the window on your right, but once you could see, you found yourself in an extravagant albeit entirely unfamiliar bedroom. You had visited your cousins before and this was not their house. Such knowledge was somewhat unnerving, but you kept yourself calm regardless.

Step one and two down. Time for three and four. 

First, however, you needed to find a weapon. Hope for the best, expect the worst, and you didn't actually expect negotiating your way out of this to work, but it was worth a shot. Managing to clamber to your feet without making any sort of noise was a bit of a challenge but it didn't take you too long. Kol had informed you of the enhanced senses vampires possessed; lucky for you, you had spent your whole life perfecting the art of going unnoticed. 

Shuffling forward, you carefully made your way over to the dresser that sat pushed against the far wall. Upon it, rested a large, bronze candlestick. You weren't sure why anyone in the twenty-first century would still have a candlestick in their room, but for the moment you simply thanked heaven for people with weird decoration preferences. Grinning, you swiped the candlestick from the dresser and weighed it in your hands. It was frickin' heavy. Your grin stretched wider.

Unfortunately, the candlestick was too long for you to successfully conceal it beneath your clothing. So, sliding back to the bed, you sat down and slipped the thing underneath your leg and then pulled the covers over yourself. You rubbed at your eyes and ruffled your hair a bit in an effort to look a tad bit more distraught, then you took a deep breath…

And screamed your ever loving lungs out.

If your cousins thought you were going to be a good little prisoner then they had another thing coming.

It wasn't long before some guy with dirty blond hair came rushing into the room, waving his hands in a placating gesture while he said a bunch of words you couldn't discern in an attempt to get you to stop screaming. Faking absolute terror wasn't too hard as you were actually rather unsettled by the situation as a whole, however, you did feel a little bad because the dude in front of you seemed pretty close to hysterics himself. You decided to take it easy on him and snap your mouth shut abruptly, staring at him with eyes as wide as quarters. He let out a nearly comical sigh of relief and took a step closer.

Naturally, you started screaming again.

The poor man jumped and scrambled back, putting his finger to his lips and again trying to calm you. He kept apologizing over and over but you figured that acting like a total wreck would benefit you most so you continued your mindless shrieking. His expression turned pleading and he clasped his hands together in earnest.

You took pity on him and shut up again, looking him over. You knew instantly that this must have been Stefan Salvatore. Kol had been absolutely right - the guy really did look like a main character of something.

He opened his mouth to talk. "I'm not going to hurt you," He said slowly. He over pronounced his words so you could read them off his lips. Then he pointed at the bedside table. "We charged those for you."

You blinked, watching him with distrustful eyes before sparing the briefest glance to where he was pointing. Resting in a charging port, were your hearing aids and you silently thanked every deity you knew of that they had survived through two kidnappings. You snatched them up and put them on, keeping your eyes on Stefan the whole time. 

When your hearing aids beeped to life, sound returned to your world and escape seemed that much more possible.

"Uh, hi." Stefan waved awkwardly. "Can you, um… can you hear me?"

"Y-yeah," You said, letting your voice shake.

"Good! Great! That's, uh, that's really… great…" He nodded, scratching the back of his neck. "Well, um, I'm Stefan and, uh… this is, uh, my-my house… and… I really hoped your cousins would be back by now." He kept talking really slowly and offered you a sheepish smile. Bless his soul, he was trying so hard. You almost felt bad for him.

"W-where is-is Jer-r-emy? El-en-en-na? Where gone?!" You demanded, hugging yourself for extra pity points. 

"I'm a friend of Elena's," Stefan said, trying to reassure you. "She asked me to watch out for you while she and Jeremy went to go put their stuff back at their place. They're really worried about you, uh… Y/N… It is Y/N, right?" He asked quickly. You nodded. 

"Don't, uh, don't under-s-stan-and!" You hiccuped.

"I know you're scared, but you're safe here. I promise," He said. You looked up at him with curious, vulnerable eyes. He continued, "Elena told me what happened. You're safe now. Kol is never gonna hurt you again." 

To hell with steps three and four; now was the perfect time to throw yourself a pity party.

You froze at the mention of Kol's name, letting your breaths turn shallow and your eyes open wide. You shook your head. "No," You whispered. "No, no, no! N-ot him! He-he was i-in my-my head! No! Ma-ake lea-ve. Can't… don't want to! Make me do things! Did-didn't want to!" Tearing your fingers through your hair and sobbing, you proceed to stutter out some incomprehensible gibberish about being scared out of your wits.

It seemed to do the trick.

Stefan's eyes flew wide and he did that thing with his hands again, looking as if he were trying to calm a spooked horse. "Hey, hey! Shhhhhh. Y/N, shhhhhh. It's okay! I'll call Elena, yeah? I'll-I'll call Elena and-and you can, uh, you can talk to her about all this. Alright? Does that sound good?"

You just nodded, pretending to cry. This was going to be much easier than you'd thought.

Stefan paced around the room, holding his phone to his ear. "Hey, Elena. Uh, your cousin is up and, uh, I-" He glanced back at you. "-I can't understand a word she's trying to say. You think you could get back here? Soon?" He paused, listening. "Well 'cause she's so… different! I don't know how to deal with this!" He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

You waited until his back was turned, tightening your grip on the candlestick still hidden under your leg. Soundlessly, you slipped out of the bed and crept up behind him, raising the candlestick high over your head. 

"Thanks," He said into the phone. He moved to hang up. This was your chance.

Without giving any sort of warning, you brought the heavy bronze down on Stefan's skull as hard as you could.

A sickening crack echoed through the air and he grunted, swaying for a moment before he collapsed to his knees. The phone slipped from his fingers but you caught it and hung up before it too could hit the floor. Stefan groaned and lifted his head, squinting up at you, his face a picture of confusion.

"How…" 

You just shrugged, brushing some hair from your face before Spartan kicking Stefan in the chest. The force of the impact sent him toppling over onto his back. Feeling no remorse whatsoever, you stepped on both his hands to keep him pinned. Blood from your first blow dripped down the candlestick, slickening the shaft. You adjusted your grip and raised the weapon over your head again. With a scream of effort, you bashed the candlestick over his head four more times, until you were satisfied that he wouldn't be getting up any time soon.

Pushing the hair from your face with a bloodied hand, you stood, patting Stefan on the knee. It was nothing personal - he had just made the same mistake as far too many others. You were damaged, it was true; where people went wrong was thinking that damaged meant the same thing as helpless. It didn't. 

Wiping Stefan's blood on your pants, you left the room. You were no stranger to blood - the sight of it had stopped making you queasy a long time ago. Moving down a dimly lit hallway decorated with wood and red carpet, you found your way to a stairwell which you took. At the end of another long and dim hallway, you spotted a window large enough to crawl through. You dashed towards it. Because attempting to find the front door in this maze of a house would take forever and you didn't have the time to waste. You forced the latch and threw the window open. 

The stupid thing hardly budged.

You groaned. Throwing your weight against it a few more times, you managed to shove it open a little more - just enough for you to fit through. You made sure to chuck the candlestick out first because there was no way you were leaving that thing behind, then you steeled your nerves and dove through. You went head first, wriggling your way out while simultaneously tossing away any shred of dignity you'd ever possessed. All that time spent immobile in various hospital beds had finally paid off! For the first time in your life, you were actually grateful to be so extraordinarily frail. 

After tumbling to the ground in a heap that lacked any grace whatsoever, you took a brief moment to curse your cousins for kidnapping you. Once that was taken care of, you stood, brushed yourself off, and grabbed your candlestick out of the dirt. It was pretty gross, seeing as all the leaves and moss and dirt had gotten stuck to the congealed blood glossing the thing, but you simply could not find the will to care. You had only ever visited your cousins once and thus had absolutely no clue where anything in their little town was. However, as long as you weren't with Elena, anywhere would be better than that creepy old house. So, you took a deep breath and hightailed it into the trees.

You ran as far and as fast as your short, under-used legs would carry you and you were pretty sure you tripped over every root there was to be had along the way. You only paused when you heard the snap of a branch. It was a little too close for comfort and you were almost positive there were no deer nearby. Flinching as you turned up the volume on your hearing aids, you listened for other sounds of a pursuer. 

You turned to face her as she stepped out from behind a tree on your left, swiftly and casually tucking the candlestick out of her view. The girl was blonde and looked to be around Elena's age. She was rather tall too, and she watched you with an appraising gleam in her sharp, preparatory, blue eyes. Those eyes reminded you of Kol's - you smiled wryly. 

"What's that buzzing sound?" She asked first, glancing around. Her voice blared in your ears, your hearing aids dramatically enhancing the annoyed tone of it. You flinched. Turning your head, you pointed out your hearing aids to her, proceeding to lower the volume on them. She tilted her head curiously. "Are those little devices how you heard me coming?" The girl wondered. You nodded. "Huh… Are you Y/N?" You nodded again. "Do you know who I am?" You shook your head. Her eyes flicked down to your semi subtle attempt at hiding the candlestick and she smirked, gesturing vaguely at it. "Concealing your weapon, are we? I can see why Kol likes you so much. Come now love, what is it? Is it the revolver or the lead pipe?"

You chuckled softly at the sheer irony as you showed her the bronze candlestick. The girl's eyes widened and she smirked in amusement. Then she strode forward and stuck out her hand for you to shake, which is exactly what you did.

"My name's Rebekah," She said. "Kol's my older brother; he called me and asked me to keep an eye out for you." 

"Why-why go? Why d-did, uh, it?" You asked skeptically.

Rebekah shrugged. "I owe him," She replied easily. "Besides, us girls need to stick together." She smiled and you returned it. "Also, did you whack Stefan Salvatore over the head with that thing?" The girl pointed to the candlestick in your hand and you just nodded vigorously. Her grin grew wider. "Oh, darling, I like you! Let's go get you cleaned up before Kol gets back, yeah? He's real anxious to see you." 

Rebekah threw an arm around your shoulders and you followed her lead out of the woods. 

Turns out, Kol and the rest of his family were loaded, so you spent the rest of your evening in comfort at their enormous mansion. Rebekah gave you some fresh clothes for you to change into, which you appreciated despite them being a bit too big. She also introduced you to her other brother, Elijah who you helped solve a crossword puzzle. You also helped Rebekah with her homework because the poor girl was seriously struggling in algebra. 

Five hours after you had arrived, the door to the kitchen opened behind you and someone threw their keys on the counter. You sat at the bar, checking the last problem on Bekah's homework while she watched over your shoulder. Elijah sat behind you, reading a really thick book. When you heard the door open, you smirked and turned around. Standing in the doorway was Kol. His hair was tousled and his chocolate eyes were an innocent kind of tired. You thought he looked soft.

"Hello, K-ol!" You chirped.

The grin that spread across his face could have lit up the whole world but it was only meant for you. "Hello, Y/N/N." He waved.

You hopped off your stool and ran to him, jumping up so you could throw your arms around his shoulders. Kol caught you and held on tight, burying his face in your neck. His whole body curled around yours and neither of you said a word because no words needed to be said. You gasped as he turned his head to press a few heated kisses along your jaw, but he made no move to take it anywhere further. Not at the moment. Kol wasn't done holding you yet.

Your cheeks flared with heat as someone behind you cleared their throat and you were abruptly reminded that you weren't alone. 

"I know Elijah," Kol mumbled into your neck. "I owe you for keeping Klaus away, I've got it."

Rebekah just huffed and stalked out of the room. You turned your head a bit to watch as Elijah closed his book. 

"No, actually I was going to say that for this one-" He gestured to you. "-I'd be more than happy to do it again."

Kol merely sent his brother a thumbs up and went back to kissing your neck. That wasn't very nice of him so you smacked his arm and he sighed, glancing up at Elijah. "Thank you for the offer, I'll keep it in mind. Now bugger off!" You smacked his arm again. "Alright, bugger off please?" He added. 

Elijah huffed a laugh and left the room. When he was gone, Kol turned back to you. His eyes turned a little more sad now that you were alone.

"Y/N…  I just want to say-" 

You slapped your hand over his mouth, effectively shutting him up so you could talk. But you didn't. You signed instead.

You pointed to yourself. 

Then crossed your arms over your chest.

Then you pointed at him.

"I love you."

Kol grinned and smoothed his hands over your arms. You pulled him close again for another hug but this time Kol's hands gripped your thighs, prompting you to hook your legs around him. A breeze skipped over your skin and your surroundings changed in an instant. Kol placed you down on his bed and moved to shut the door before returning. You blushed deeply, shying away from him as he climbed over you. 

"S-slow?" You asked quietly. He smiled and cupped your cheek, brushing the loose strands of hair away from your face. Kol left a lingering kiss to your forehead. Then he moved, ghosting his lips along your bright pink cheeks. Your eyes fluttered closed and he kissed those next. His feather-soft lips trailed along your jaw and then finally met yours for a kiss that lit a fire in your lungs that spread through your whole body. You felt warm. Kol was warm.

"You're beautiful," He whispered, urging you to lie back. Kol kissed you gently, tucking stay wisps of hair behind your ears as you shifted. "I'd do anything for you." That boy deepened his kiss, drawing a soft moan out of you that turned his breaths shallow. Kol pulled back and those chocolate eyes of his burned into yours. "Broken or not-" He said. "-I love every part of you."

Tagging: @yn-ymn-yln @r13mar @rootbeerfaygo @iiskittles16ii @fandomrulesall-blog @dark-night-sky-99 @railingsofsorrow @musically-ambiguous @apolloroid

#kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson fanfiction #the originals #canon compliant #the originals fanfiction #the originals fan fiction #tvdu #tvd fanfic #vampire diaries fan fiction #fan fiction #fanfic #the vampire diaries #my name is cas and i write stuff #angst and fluff #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #kol x reader #disabled reader #reader has a disability #elijah x reader #kol mikaelson fan fiction #klaus x reader #jeremy gilbert #gilbert cousin #fluff #fluffy fluff #cuddles #a weird as all frick dream sequence #reader insert

[heartheaded]

It was Osysa the androsphinx who sent them here--to the Axiom caverns, and ultimately it was also Osysa's mention that saved Vox Machina from an eternity of freefalling the infinite void. To prove their worth and venture forward, a test was established by Kamaljiori--the estranged husband of this encounter--to wound him.

In all his years, as was explained, he'd never felt the sting of pain.

If one of them managed, they would all be let go and perhaps awarded with a vestige if all pans out. And all would pan out, if their plucky group had anything to say about it.

Given Kami's incredible and striking nature as a monstrosity, most of them were quickly bested, tossed over the edge of the pocket dimension's arena to fall infinitely unless one of them were to succeed.

With everyone quickly dropping like literal flies around him, Scanlan options waned. If Grog couldn't draw blood, how could he? If there were no visible--eh hem, externals... how was he supposed to get the cheap shot?... and then, Kami spoke his end, that he didn't understand why Osysa sent such weak tokens and all at once Scanlan pulled forward his lute. Fingers poised, the bard played an awe-inspiring, melancholic anthem based on the lovers' separation, being so close to touch and yet...

Well, no one would ever quite believe him--and even in the few moments he has to talk with Kami, he doesn't think it'll be enough even when time and space are set right. For now, the brilliant concert lights settle and Scanlan finds himself in a comfortable statis, sitting on a plush cloud and leaning against the soft fur of the androsphinx.

❝Wise, old Rosemary...❞ he begins, and it hits like poppy dust, the realization of abrupt stillness and drowse.

❝It is nice to meet again. The time of ages is etched into your bones, allowing you to see clearly the heartbreak that lies within the realms... and sworn your infinite lives to solve it.❞

Scanlan tilts his head up in question to find a strand of long, brown hair tickling his nose--his hair is out, his chest is glowing a calm lilac, and everything feels heavy & hazy, like the best high-induced dream he's ever had. No idea what the pretty words quite mean, but they sound as exquisite as the finest instrument. Lulling violet eyes drift upwards, giving a sleepy cheshire smile.

❝... but kindness without limits is self-destruction.❞

He frowns, and there's a sudden heat to his face, the sole discomfort. Kami sounds heartbroken for him, and pulls him closer with a delightfully weighted paw.

❝Oh, little leaf... Strong and wise, you seek to bring peace with your presence, and I'd be wrong to say you fail at this effort. In fact, you burn so brightly I fear you may continue to set yourself on fire to keep others warm. In this, you believe to be protecting everyone... but if you shield the saplings from the sunlight, they will never grow.❞

Scanlan can't help but instinctively disagree, In his own mind, what sort of protecting is he desperately trying to do--? What sort of protecting can he do? And to what vain is it going too far?...

... maybe this is a prediction of the future?

❝--and you one day will wither.❞ Yikes. ❝Protect yourself, as you know best there are no happy heroes... so do not exhaust in being one. Be a friend, Scanlan Shorthalt. Before you slay others' demons, you must first slay your own.❞

He deflates slightly, looks disheartened by this conclusion--so he is at fault, huh? A fucking andro-guardian is telling him that to his face and everything. Almost like Kami reads his mind though, he's placed on top of the sphinx's head with a careful clawed grip.

❝Oh, true-hearted paladin--you are brave, you are good enough. One cannot do anything saintly if they do not tend to their own wounds first.❞

And it's with this last realization that the scenery changes for the final time, fading white back to that dingy cave entrance from before. In their final moments before the others crash in, Scanlan finally gets the ability to talk and immediately leans into writing a song with the possibly the only being in existence that could see into Scanlan Shorthalt's soul.

He saw where the music box was carefully tucked away and hidden, and brought it out. Cleaned it up. Tuned the abandoned prongs. Gave him back to the found family that nearly lost him.

... but who knows if it'll stay clean, really.

#//ive been so emo about this it took me almost an hour to write #//i took the scent quiz and got rosemary and it struck a cord so please #//have a little extension on the aftermath of the androsphinx <3 #DO YOU SPICE? ; scanlan shorthalt #CALLIGRAPHER'S KIT {drabbles}

[shoto-brainrot]

Hate

Pairings: Shoto Todoroki x reader

Tags: Angst, Traitor AU

A/N: It’s a one-shot but there is possiblity of expanding it to a couple parts if there’s demand

+ + +

Even llike this he was still so beautiful... You shook your head, tearing your eyes away from his red and white hair.

You sighed. He hadn’t spoken to you in weeks. You’ve resigned yourself to just giving him space but you still hoped he would reach out. You found yourself jumping every time your phone buzzed or whenever anyone mentioned him. You strained to hear if he ever spoke but he didn’t even seem to be talking to Midoriya either. It’s been hell.

One night after dinner, he aslked you to follow him and you obliged.

It seemed different somehow and you felt your mind race as you followed his rigid form. Your brain whirled with errant thoughts, skirting to avoid the irrefutable fact that something was very wrong. You fought to not think about it but something deep inside of Shoto changed after his kidnapping.

He stopped, turning to meet your gaze. A moment passes.

...

"I hate you."

…

What..?

You were taken aback. The words didn't make sense and your mind took a moment to process. Your lips cracked open, inhaling sharply as comprehension settled in.

"You h..." Your voice was barely audible, unable to finish the sentence. 

You eyes dropped, voice cracking.

"Wha.. Did I do something?" Your voice trailed off and you muster the courage to look back up at him.

You blinked, looking into his eyes, searching. They were cold, gaze unflinching as he held yours. The surface was icy, a hint of molten lava underneath belied some sort of annoyance or restless impatience.

You felt your heartbeat rising to your throat, your legs trembled and your foot took a weak step backwards. 

He looked away, "Stop wasting my time and focus on your own path…”

His words blurred together as your head pounded,

“Don't you feel embarrassed that you've had to rely on me for this long?..."

Sho…

“I didn’t think I had to be this direct…”

+ + +

Shoto’s POV

Shoto didn't want to. Not like this... But he couldn't think of any other way. He stopped, turning to face you and the words fell from his lips.

He felt a pang of guilt as he saw it register in your eyes. He kept his expression empty, second nature to him now, but even that was difficult. As much as Shoto didn't want to, he still noticed every little thing about you. The sharp intake of breath.. the near-invisible trembling of your lips.. He felt his eyes prick with tears.

He could see it. You believed him. A part of him was relieved that he didn���t have to spend time convincing you, but it was still painful that you believed him so quickly. It hurt him to see that you were blaming yourself, again.

Your voice shook as you looked up at him, barely able to ask if you did anything. As if you could've done anything that could've made him hate you.

How many times did he tell you that not everything was your fault?

He scowled and your hands trembled in response. He looked away, frustration pulling at his lips. He steeled himself, drawing on every ounce of self-control to complete this... damn near impossible task.

He told you to focus on yourself, that he only allowed you to be near him out of pity. He winced internally. Not only was he able to parrot Endeavor's harsh tone, but he was able to capture the disdain as well.

Shoto was merciful, doing the bare minimum to ensure that the bond between you two was completely severed. He cut away at your ties with precision, expressing disgust for all the things you were insecure about. He hated every second of it, sickened to his core at how his words hurt you. His composure broke once but your eyes were too teary to see. He bit the inside of his cheek in a vain effort to keep focused. Not that it mattered, you couldn’t bear to look at him.

Shoto had no doubt that you would hate him after this, although he was certain it would be nowhere near the amount of hate he felt towards himself in that moment..

As he walked away, he wondered if this had been necessary.

Did the timing matter once it was revealed that he was the traitor? You would've felt betrayed and hated him regardless.

Wasn't it more merciful to do it now rather than later? It would be less of a shock when they eventually find out... He reasoned.

He wasn't sure, but he knew he needed to do a better job as he headed to Midoriya's dorm. He would be much harder to deceive. 

Once he was inside the stairwell, he braced himself against the wall. He finally let himself shed the tears he had been holding back. His tears froze and evaporated, cracking and sizzling as his body temperature reflected the grief raging inside of  him.

It's okay,

Shoto told himself. He wouldn't be here much longer. He wouldn't have to hurt his friends, or you, anymore.

#shoto todoroki #todoroki shoto #villain au #traitor au #angst #shoto x reader #shouto todoroki #todoroki shouto #shoto todoroki x y/n #shouto todoroki x y/n #fic #bnha #my hero fanfic #my hero academia #bnha fanfic #truth writes #shoto x y/n #shouto x reader #shouto #shouto x y/n #todoroki #mha todoroki #shoto torodoki #todoroki fanfic #todoroki angst #shoto angst #todoroki imagine #bnha imagines #mha imagines #shoto x you

[tiny-tigers]

✨ Oh that is a good point! They must feel so familiar but then in person you realise they are in fact strangers - that must feel quite jarring. Papa Chessum seems adorable! As do all the families tbh? I think they've been so involved in their sons careers that meeting so many people along the way & revelling in the whole experience must just be so exciting - whereas the partners of the players haven't been around for all that so probably feel more uncomfortable with it...

I always remember Chloe Madeley (James Haskell's wife) saying on his podcast that the wive's and gf's always felt so much pressure to dress up for games & to look a certain way as people would constantly look them up and down & judge them ☹️ She also said they would be always freezing at six nations games because of their 'dress to impress' outfits and that Eddie Jones understood and was incredibly sweet by getting them heated blankets to keep them warm 😭💕

Omg you climbed over Bevan?? 😂😆 [I would stay well clear of that boy after watching that calorie vid of his - jesussss 😂👀]

Guarantee the ones who looked older had faces full of filler...? 😞

Also culture shock is such a real thing omg, one of my siblings has a foreign partner and as lovely as they are, we have just never gelled? Not through lack of trying of course but yeh...culture is so interesting no?

Seen a super cool documentary about fillers it really stopped my ideas to get some ever ! Also everyone is starting to look the same just see the hairstyles as well... It is getting scary. I think it is too much efforts for something that will fade away plus when you stop cultivating what is inside yourself it is when it gets bad... I mean I may not be the prettiest but I do know for sure I can be captivating.

Papa chess always call everyone buddy or mate or something along those lines to men and women it is funny. Families are all very closed, the vP are more discreet than the stews... You can be fooled by Jeff in a crowd and not recognize him but not Sarah , he is her carbon copy it is insane and she is so pretty????? He was alone anyways. He was not seated with anyone family and wasn't Seated with freddy's friends he came with he was on his own in a seat near staircases so he could moove easily with his boot.

Completely amazed each time I see them in 3D I am never completely used to it.

Also used to be over the moon and find that he was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in 29 years of life and believedme I have seen a lot of museums. Lies Lies Lies... You know when you see in a glimpse someone true self without any barriers, his personality but it is rotten inside that it turns the person uggly instantly ?? This happened. Like a repulsive instinctive movement of being take aback.

So different than watching the Tv. I have seen tons and tons of images of Jack over the year that I can do galaxy maps out of his moles and yet... He looked smaller sweaty and vain that day. He was just a boy. Some boy. But a boy. It vacillated in front of me in a fraction of a second my brain didn't compute and was there like why am I inflicting this situation to myself. It hurts. Go.

I recall his clumsy movements, the cotton of his t-shirt , the heavy bracelet of his watch , his eyes being glazed and very wide, and his hair going greasy on his forehead, for a reason he is always warm his body always radiates like a heater. I could write chapters just to describe him.

So you have at least the end of the story and I get a closure perhaps.

____________

I thought he would care but maybe someone still does.

♪ I got everything I wanted

Not what you'd think

And if I'm bein' honest

It might've been a nightmare ♫

__

As soon as the second half started I ran out in the stairs and even took the wrong way before noticing, I was shaking like a leaf my ancestors must have felt it.

Like I said I asked Max Malins where Jack was by showing him my drawing to him, his girlfriend, and Josie, Ben Earl's girlfriend who was very sweet was complimenting it so I was slightly reinforced I wasn't totally off in my intentions.

I tried again to run through the stairs and one of the stewards noticed me this time. Asking me a bit with disdain if I had finally found him, she said she would ask another steward close to the staff if he was there. The other one came and didn't recognize him from the drawing, I gave him his name and he told me he wasn't playing (no kidding sir... I know that) . I told them both that the players and families assured me he was there, I knew I did not have a lot of time before they would ask me to go back ASAP to my seat so I scanned for one last time the crowd and there he was. In a *SNAP* I just saw him and didn't let them finish telling me anything I just said mostly for me: THERE, SEE HE IS THERE!! TOLD YOU!! and instantly, instinctively moved forward.

To reach him I had to do some acrobatics and climb rows of seats I asked nicely to pass to someone who indeed was Bevan Rodd but I couldn't care less I had the aim to reach Jack before he could go away so I had to pass between Bevan and his family to land on the hole to hope seeing Jack, doing so I hit hard my knee to the forward row of seats.

A few steps with a muted pain in my right knee is what was separating me from my encounter with the backside of Jack in his black t-shirt finishing to discuss with people around. Lewis Ludlam was on his phone occupied on the next row to my right. I took my chances and it was after a light tap on his back that I was finally facing Jack.

He seemed surprised , glazed eyes who seemed twitching : oh it's you ! You found me !

He said : heeeyy ! I just had the drawing in front of me he laughed and he said You alright? and engulfing me in a hug, I whispered in his ear that it had been difficult to find him. I asked him if he would be ok just to take a selfie . A selfie ! Right! no problem, he was letting me to open my phone ready to take one but then Lewis said to me if you want I can take the pictures for me so I gave him my phone and Jack was abandoning me already talking to someone else. I said to Lewis I was running the fanpage of Jack a bit excusing myself for intruding and explaining why I was exactly there. He absolutely didn't cared a flying fuck but said oh alright. Jack... The selfie.. Jack ? JACK ! JVP !!!

He was so embarrassed for me that JvP was totally elsewhere.

oh yes yes ! He grabbed me close and while Lewis was taking the pictures I was asking Jack if we could have one less formal more "quirky" and he didn't understand and kept on repeating what ? uuhmWhat? laughing. and I said in my balbuting English you know doing faces pull the tongue. Quirky.! He seemed horrified and moved away so I asked him right after that why he was not following the fanpage and he started to be vague and telling me that he would never follow it and started an embarrassed because... and I asked him if it was because of the club he said no but that he wanted to keep a low profile. The amount of profiles he follows doesn't really sound low profile to me but I will not start to argue.

I think he saw my look because he instantly defended himself with reinforcement of gestures with his hands: but I go watch it tho you know!!!! And he promised he would continue to do so. He then proceeded to tell me he had to go because the match would be back on soon and it was when I tried to let him pass that my hand landed on his abs because he literally escaped, exchanged an intended look with Bevan and I followed him to his seat because I still had his drawing in hand and it couldn't end like this, it was the worst interaction we ever had.

I called him back and gave him the drawing and he said: no.

no , no-no

I said why ??? I was completely shocked to be entirely honest. Because he could have trashed it right after it I wouldn't have cared but for me, to refuse that simple piece of paper it was like crucifying me, crushing my efforts, with his simple no that he repeated in loop after, I pictured instantly all the previous giftbags I gave him in the bin. Don't you like it ? It's badly drawn? ♫*bad blood by Taylor Swift in my head*♫

No no it's not that you are talented it's really well done, you should keep it. He was a bit showing himself not having a bag and his empty pocket and then.

So disappointed, I had my ego replying to him instantly: sign it then at least!

He said ok , I asked him if he would be in Leicester on the 3rd of December because I had more pleasant gifts than a drawing to give him and he smiled nodding. While signing my drawing one woman went in the way while regaining her seat, and proceeded to completely empty on the floor the full beer cup he had left next to his seat to be empty-handed. She recognized him and was super flustered while he was SO PISSED OFF. He was giving me back the pen and drawing completely distraught and afflicted. He had enough.

I just thanked him again for the video before leaving and he said he was again very sorry that it had taken so long for him to reply ...

I remember I remember, his eyes flickering a silent but kind: I know who you are I haven't forgotten you now go you can go

I left.

I wished to cry but couldn't, like I couldn't explain to my father the bruise forming on my knee huge as a potato, or the bruise even bigger to my ego. I cried a lot after that. He kept his promises and came back on his own a lot of times on the page just the day after like an excuse but it's me seeing things. It was too late anyway.

I left my childhood and illusions in that stadium.

Life went on.

It doesn't seem like a lot because after all he didn't owe me anything but it hit hard, usually my job = me, so knowing I was doing the page in vain and that he absolutely doesn't care about anything was a huge blow. I felt like I was embarrassing him, felt embarrassed by the whole situation and talking about cultural differences: I think I may just be a lot, he is cuddly and tactile but it's not the same as being warm and close. Obviously, it's normal to put distances but then don't grab me, the ambivalence was part of the problem and it always was from day one. He should have put distances from day one and not broken them from himself by DM me , it is how it started and then he just kept on giving on and on. His family and friends following... all the hugs and then some likes , the views, I can count all

I have received and that I have entertained as well and that we in a way both entertained as he could have stopped coming he could have deleted the page ....So yeah thing is it was weird and not satisfying interaction, I felt it like a broken heart and collected the pieces of it back home. I think it wasn't the right time for sure and I should have known but it was so unexpected for him to show up and I had bought those RWC tickets to see him... I don't know maybe

it was all a fever dream as I was alone to experience it when usually someone is there with me to relate the same story with a different point of view...

That was the story of the downfall of my love for Jack.

Cute point it is how close I was to second babey

#I know english people are not used a lot to effusion of love and he is maybe not used to such dedication

[a-tsurugi-simp]

Is it ok if I request a fic of Teruya x Ultimate writer S/O? (Btw ur skills on drawing and writing are amazing)

C-Compliments... My weakness, I am dying inside. I am dead, no thoughts, no brain, just happiness.

It is more than okay for you to request. I am more than glad to provide Teruya Content!

Teruya Otori x Ultimate Writer!Reader

aka: Reader being a fucking disaster for almost 1200 words. Ultimate Writer? More like Ultimate Idiot.

DRA Setting.

Warning: Some self-deprecation.

Word Count: +1400

Reader has no pronouns defined.

Writing came naturally to you.

You weren't a Prodigy like Toko Fukawa, whose novels charmed all the people in general, but you were not a Hifumi Yamada either. You... You were just you. Just a student who wrote about everything and nothing at the same time. Poems, songs, fables, fairytales, even reports, all of them were just stuff that you loved to do. Your mind was a beautiful chest full of ideas and thoughts and putting it all in paper was a way to not let none of them be left behind.

To think that had earned you a place in Hope's Peak Academy had been a blessing, and then a curse.

Of course you couldn't be the only Ultimate with a talent tied with writting, of fucking course you weren't special in anyway. At least that's what the worst part of you said, the one who only resided in the negative part of your brain.

You held the pencil tightly, the words stuck between your fingers, unable to write.

What kind of Ultimate Writer were you, having a mental block? You groaned, head going straight to the desk. You felt your forehead made contact with the paper in wich you had been trying uselessly to write, and you couldn't help but feel pathetic the moment you remembered that there was absolutely nothing in there.

Nothing. Empty.

God, it was just a love letter! How hard could it be? You had won so many prices with your reports about love and the cause of those feelings. Yes, maybe they were not Fukawa's romance novels, but they helped you so many times in how to recognize crushes and fucking act on them.

Did they matter at the end of the day? There you were, being a pathetic chicken that couldn't even escape a simple writter's block.

Well, maybe you had been rejected too many times to be finally scared to act. The excuse came to your mind, instantly remembering how in every attempt something always went wrong, how in all the times you tried your best to charm your way into your crush's heart with pretty words you had always ended in a failure, your desired person denying you with either a uncomfortable expression or a smile full of pity.

You hated it, you hated it so much and you would hate it more if Teruya ever looked at you that way.

"For the sweet love of jesus, just fucking kill me already..." You mumbled, head still buried in the piece of paper. If Kinji had heard that you would had been subjeted to a harsh lecture about never saying the Lord's name in vain, but god, you were too tired to care.

Maybe... Maybe you could just simply be blunt. Maybe this time you could leave the pretty words behind, and just use what it needed to be done. An average confession-

No. Just no.

Teruya deserved the best! Being average with a confession would just be just stupid! No, no. The Ultimate Merchant deserved to be praised, he needed to know that his green eyes were the reason you got up everyday even though you hated Hope's Peak with all of your entire being, he needed to know that you loved how soft his hair was when your fingers managed to brush againt it, and that you would literally kill to be able to play with it all the time.

-Tsuguri had heard that from your mouth once, when you thought you were alone, trying your best to gain courage to confess and he walked into your open room because he needed help with homework. You spent the rest of the evening trying to convince him that you wouldn't murder anyone, it was just an exageration, and to please put the handcuffs away jesus christ.-

With newfound confidence you raised your head, snorting when the white paper stayed glued to one of your cheeks. You used your dominant hand to put it again on the desk, finally ready to spill out your most honest feelings.

"My dearest Teruya." You said loudly as you wrote. Then paused. "Sounds too... ugh." A frown, then a pensive expresion.

You used to do that a lot when you wrote. Your mouth would open up, and everything that you put in paper would be criticized and said out loud, like you were testing if it sounded right, if it was something that could belong in a convertation.

"It sounds cheesy... but I would said that. My dearest Teruya..." You tested the words, tasting the sugar and the love in every single one, and you swore the moment you felt your face burn. Yeah, those three words would stay. You continued writting, trying to get your feelings expresed. "I am writting this because I like you. No, no. That sounds too simple, it wouldn't work."

You erased those faulty words.

"I want to tell you that I have a crush on you." Your voice was gaining confidence as you wrote, becoming louder and more assured. It was as if you were slowly becoming a different person, your eyes gaining a glow that almost made them look of a different color.

"I have been spending months trying to gain the courage to confess what I feel to you. I've been trying to get you to understand that I absolutely adore everything that makes you.. well, you. I like you a lot, Teruya. I like how bubbly and kind, and how gentle you have been with me since we met. I find you undeniable handsome, and I... want you to know that you would make me the most lucky Ultimate if you liked me back and accepted a date with me! Any place would be fine, please just date me!"

You finished writting, your dominant hand slapping the piece of paper while you stood up in your seat. A proud smile was on your lips. The last part sounded a little bit too desesperate for your taste, but it was decent enough for you.

"... Would it be fine if I picked you up next Sunday then?"

What the fuck.

You screamed, jumping in place so high you would make the even the Ultimate Jumper jealous. Was there an Ultimate Jumper, though? You didn't think so, but who cared about that! Your brain just stopped working the moment your head turned right, and your eyes saw Teruya Otori on the door, the short man red in the face.

Of fucking course. Of course he would come to the Library even thought he usually did not come by his own.

His green eyes were watching you intensely, and if you had bothered to notice, you would have seen his hands shaking.

"Teruya! What? How-... When? Holy fucking god don't do this to my poor heart! Why the heck are you in the Library?"

The green haired boy shrugged, still blushing furiously. God, he was so cute, the tips of his ear were red too! He never broke eye contact with you though, and your nerves were rising.

Up, up, up.

"Haruhiko asked me to go grab a notebook he left in a hurry."

You instantly scowled. "That fucking dumbass couldn't go for it himself...? I'm gonna murder that-"

Teruya instantly cut you off saying your name. "He's with Satsuki." Oh. That inmediately made your angry expression melt. You knew the Pilot, and how he had been struggling with his feelings for the clown girl. You even had confided on him with your own problem, and gave him advice.

You sighed tiredly. You were still red, a hand going to your head, your fingers playing with your hair. It was a quirk of yours, something that usually told that you were feeling shy at the moment. Lord knows how many times Mitch had teased you for that.

"Well... I... suppose you have questions."

Seconds passed. Then, the boy grinned, hands going to the back of his head. Much to your confusion, the boy shook his head, still having that beautiful smile that always your heart sing. "I have, but I could ask them in the date."

What. What the fuck.

You felt your head combust into flames, your mouth opening to let out the most pitiful squeak that you ever did in your liife. Holy moly, that was too smooth to have been uttered by the short guy, and the effect was mind shattering.

"Sunday sounds good?" He asked, and if you hadn't been busy wishing to dig a hole be buried under it, you would had seen that Otori was nervous too.

It took you almost half a minute to answer, and by that time The Ultimate Merchant had already went to collect Haruhiko's notebook, and it was now secure under the young boy's hands.

"S-Sunday sounds perfect."

"Alright. See ya then!"

The boy left, his steps quick, and you groaned all the profanities on all of the languajes you knew, feeling disconected from what just happened. You just had secured a date with the boy you liked.

On the other side, Teruya was going back to his friends muttering to himself, repeating what just happened in his mind with a face so red it would make a tomato jealous.

He just had secured a date with the person he liked.

#danganronpa another #dra #danganronpa #reader insert #request #teruya otori #teruya otori x reader

[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.

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