#consummative closure

[matchibee]

Dreaming of You

for whatever reason tumblr kept deleting everything I wrote for this chapter so its a work of frustration, my mind is numb.

barely proofread, closure.

Enchanted, Sparks

He knew it was a mistake as soon as it happened. As soon as his hands wandered your skin just as he’d dreamed, walking on clouds. As soon as your lips danced as one, souls merging as a love divined by the heavens was consummated. He didn't want to release you, parting lips to look into your eyes, peer into the very soul that had him ridden with anguish. Everything he'd yearned for nestled up to him between the sheets that evening. A family he'd believed himself chastened from reaching entirely his for the taking.

But you weren't Miguel's to have, not really.

Miguel wasn’t from here, not this dimension, but another. He simply wanted another chance at being a father, yearned to hear his darling daughter's voice one last time, a final time. He promised himself he wouldn't do it again, refused to subject himself to such anguish in the midst of his sorrows.

It was supposed to be in and out, peering at the life he could've had, then confining himself to his desk for the rest of eternity

Yet when Miguel found a variant of himself laid out in the darkness of Nueva York, passed on as the result of a violent altercation, he couldn't help it. The perfect opportunity, the only opportunity he'd have to find closure. In his desperation there was a glimmer of hope, an opportunity to overcome anguish.

He would've been a fool to pass up an opportunity handed out to him on a silver platter.

Miguel could learn to love again.

And then you came into the picture, confounding his rationality, blurring what little prospect of pulling away he had left. His past self, whoever he was, had obviously had a deep connection with you — deep enough your lips curled into a smile during his newfound walk to Alchemax, footfall falling in sync. Deep enough you held out a donut and coffee between your fingers, greeting him in a voice so smooth he believed it to be crafted with honey, sickeningly saccharine.

You invaded the deepest trenches of his self, implementing your very essence into his molecular structure, a single entity. In your entirety, you belonged to Miguel. I’m his entirety, he belonged to you.

But it was so fucking wrong.

Miguel knew the risks, understood what could've occurred if he submersed his entirety into this universe, a dive so deep he feared he'd never come up for air. Lyla tried to talk him out of it, her eyes widening as she saw something in Miguel shift upon seeing his body laid out, watched as he concealed any evidence that could jeopardize his position.

Lyla couldn't watch, her programming rejecting Miguel's actions. But in his actions there was love for a daughter, and love for someone he'd yet to know. Miguel was driven with passion, aflame.

there wasn't a soul that could deter him, pull him away from everything he deserved. This was his life, in some form, and he deserved to live it.

That’s exactly why he was avoiding you, avoiding the situation, his feelings. He couldn’t stand to drag you down with him, drag you into this hellish existence that dominated his being — Spider-Man, one not meant to persist, taking the mantle upon himself in an effort to preserve the one thing he had left.

Miguel was destined to a reality of solitude and suffering, and you were destined to a fate without him by your side, a life where Gabri was nothing more than an orphaned child.

He could change fate if you'd just indulge him, mend what had been ruptured. Create an existence entirely devoid of isolated mania. Miguel knew he was strong, ridiculously. He had the will to burden this universe upon his shoulders if it only meant to hold you close, or to love a daughter.

Miguel wanted so much more than any universe could provide him. Wanted you, everything that encompassed you.

But he couldn’t, he knew that. Not when your life would be on the line, not when it endangered Gabri, knowing his overstayed welcome wouldn't persist without consequence. Miguel couldn't save his previous existence, bound to destitution. But if you'd just let him, indulge him, there was a chance he could save you.

Save you from his gluttonous desire for you.

Miguel held his head as your voice lingered down the halls of the office, mind overwhelmed with everything you. Sometimes he was unsure if it was truly your voice he was hearing, believing himself to hallucinate your very presence, a ghost of your touch where your self was absent. He looked for you at every waking moment, reaching out to find an apparition he'd fooled himself into believing tangible. Miguel was a man ridden with desperation, yearning for your touch.

So why the fuck was he avoiding you? You couldn't understand it, couldn't understand what had gone wrong. In the midst of everything, the climax of a prospective relationship, there was stagnancy.

Everything, you could only rationalized. Perhaps the entire situation had thrown him in for a loop, mind fuzzed with responsibility and desire — where they met, intersected. And how they differed, diverged.

Perhaps your souls weren't as entwined as you'd believed. His lips had done the talking, body sculpted in stone influencing your decisions.

Yet you knew in your heart that simply wasn't true.

You'd felt the repercussions like a wound to the chest, noticing damn near instantly as Miguel seemed to drift away from you. Lingering touches nothing more than brief. Yearning gazes nothing more than polite regards. There was something more, and you knew that, but he seemed to reject it just as incessantly as he craved to give in. Despite everything that had occurred between the both of you, despite a silent profession of longing that burned just to exist. But Miguel seemed to interpret things different.

An overwhelming annoying game of cat and mouse — one where neither party knew where they stood. But you didn't have time to play these games, play into these fantasies you'd construed in the depths of an evening speckled in stars.

So when your supervisor entered your office with a proposition, you were unsure how to respond.

"We'd like to offer you a higher-up position at one of our sister locations."

To say the offer was abrupt was the understatement of the century, your mind fogged as the man drawled on about the position, what it would entail. Never did you believe something like this would happen, unsure of your abilities. But obviously they’d take notice of your diligent work, obviously they saw greatness where it persisted. "You will oversee project management off-site, entirely in charge of operations occurring within the facility."

Definitely a change from what you were used to. Since you’d begun your journey at Alchemax you’d only know what it meant to be on the receiving end of instruction, bound to a lab that had nearly taken your head once or twice. To be the one calling the shots, leading projects and their goals, would be an entirely new experience.

You nodded your head in understanding, astounded, though the smallest bit apprehensive. "When can I start?"

Your supervisor hummed in amusement, evidently pleased with your response, "Always the eager one, precisely why I endorsed you. How soon can you relocate ?"

Your lips parted, brows furrowing as you registered what he’d asked you. "Pardon?"

"The location you'll be tending to is one in Boston. As such, Alchemax will assist you in finding the proper accommodations—"

Boston. Hours away from where you currently resided, a generous trip, one you'd never taken, not particularly keen on travelling. Your entire life revolved around Nueva York. Education, friendships, memories. Your being belonged to this city and its people, belonged to this job you'd broken your back tending to. To just decide up and leave everything you’d achieved, everything you’d cultivated...

You weren’t sure if you could do it, weren’t sure it was the proper option for you at the moment.

"Can I..." You failed to find the proper words, mind running at a million miles a minutes, "Can I have time to think about this?"

"I’ve been allotted 48 hours to relay your response."

With that you excused yourself from your own office, a minute to get some fresh air, shoes clacking down the ungodly length of the hallway in contemplative silence.

The world was crumbling around you as you fought to keep it together, bits and pieces falling from the seems, and you were fruitless in remedying it.

And Miguel? He’d been heartbroken when he heard the news, enhanced senses meaning he'd known the decision far before you'd ever heard of it. His heart was clenching, feeling as though he might faint. You wouldn’t take the position, would you?

Then again, what purpose was there in staying?

The world seemed to stand still despite time continuing forward, Miguel carrying out the rest of the day in a blur, feeling as though everything he'd built was coming to a halt.

And you? It was as though your world was shattering into a million fragments, refractions of light reflecting memories lived seemingly since the dawn of time. You were unsure, pacing back and forth in an attempt to clear your mind, praying the universe would place you on the correct path.

But nobody’s world felt as shattered as Miguel’s.

He heard your footsteps down the hall, your path determined, Miguel's heart-rate quickening. You were there alongside him before he could even register what was happening, before he could even ponder how this truly made him feel.

Your voice called his name, Miguel turning to you with a look of longing, wanting nothing more than to hold you in his embrace, wanting nothing more than to have you to himself.

Miguel didn't want you to go, didn't want to have to watch as you left his life forever, couldn't bare the thought of never being able to hold you in his arms again.

But he also knew, rationally, it would be unfair of him to ask that of you. To stay, be his, when your life seemed to be improving for the better. Miguel couldn't ask you to be his, couldn't ask you abandon reason for him and his little family.

He couldn't harm the spiderverse because he was lovesick.

“They offered me a promotion.”

Those words, five words that Miguel dreaded hearing — fearing hearing them fall from your lips only brought the situation closer to reality, difficult to deny. Five abhorrent words he wished never to hear. The sound of your voice felt so surreal, impossibly painful.

Miguel hummed, throat clenching, fighting the urge to unveil his knowledge. His enhanced senses proved a blessing and a curse, one he would relinquish if only it meant to belong to you in mind, body and spirit. “Congratulations.”

No. No. He wasn't happy. This was the furthest from happy he could've possibly been. His commendation fell from his lips before his mind could catch up, reflexes hindered by your presence, by reality. Despite his hindered response it appeared his head continued to run rampant with thought, fueling a mouth that yearned for nothing to more than to connect with yours. "When do you start your new position?"

He knew the answer, god he knew the answer, dreaded it. But he needed to hear it from your lips, even if he inwardly refused, even if he wanted to deny it for all of eternity.

“It's complicated..." You were unsure of how to properly express yourself, realizing this was the first time you'd spoken to Miguel since he'd left your apartment all those mornings ago. "I still haven't made a decision, since I’d have to move… But I’d be a Project Manager at an Alchemax sister location.”

“Where to?” Miguel spoke with passivity, keeping himself composed. He was fortunate you missed the way his hands dug into the arms of his swivel chair, claws presenting themselves to deepen his grip. Within himself Miguel prayed for someone to heed his call, to see through this facade, to call him out on his bullshit so he could claim you in your entirety -- worship you, adore you.

You cleared your throat, finding your words. “Boston.”

“Massachusetts?”

You nodded your head, anticipating his reaction, turning up incorrect in your deduction. He wasn't someone you could register, fickle in his entirety, alternating between someone you loved unconditionally and a stranger.

“Impressive.”

Ouch. You couldn’t rationalize why he was acting like this, why his emotions seemed to flicker as though being tampered with. He was once so gentle, so warm in his approach, a man who enveloped you at the drop of a hat.

But Miguel knew he couldn’t hurt you, not like this. Too many factors, far too many factors. If he inserted himself into your life he feared it would spell an end for everything you'd built — everything the people of this universe had built. Miguel's heart called your name, his mind pushing it away.

But when you spoke again, leaving him seeing stars, Miguel only realized he’d end up hurting you either way.

“Do you not care?”

Care? of course he cared. Miguel cared more than he could ever hope to admit, cared more than the stars yearned for their moon, than the clouds for their sun. Miguel cared so much he couldn't stand the thought of collapsing your home, couldn't stand the image of your person being lost to the universe. At least in this way, in a reality of his own divination, Miguel knew you were unharmed. He could love you in a way unique to his personal language.

He simply had an interesting way of showing it.

“Care? What does it matter to me, it’s your decision.”

“Oh” He could hear the pain in your voice, loathed that he'd been the one to place it there. "I just assumed that since we..."

“We what?”

The nail in the coffin.

Hot tears pricked in the corners of your eyes, sniffles falling from your nose. Miguel sensed it, all of it. He looked to your watery eyes and legs that seemed to wobble as though you'd tumble.

Perhaps if he created his own canon event, one that harmed him in the process, it would even out the events he'd altered — fathering a child, assuming the mantle of a vigilante who hadn't persisted in this universe. So much had changed since he'd seized the opportunity to live the life he'd lost.

Another loss might level what he'd redesigned in his favor.

If Miguel could just do this, fight his feelings to alter your life, then maybe that would be enough.

"I think..." Your voice erupted in a tremble, Miguel retracting his claws, hands resting on his knees, the closest he'd come to reaching out to you. "I think I made my decision... It's not like there's anything keeping me in Nueva York, not that I can think of."

An eye for an eye, a shot in Miguel's frigid heart.

He watched you leave, conceded to watching your figure retreat out that door. He wanted to call your name, craved the feeling of your body against his. Miguel imagined he'd grip your wrist, free hand cupping your cheek as he whispered his feelings into the open. You'd know how he felt, a vocalized confirmation. And in return, Miguel would have you.

But that's not what happened.

Not as Miguel turned in his swivel, elbows against his desk, vision blurred through salty tears.

And then he wept.

Brick by agonizingly boring brick you brought down everything you'd built. After relaying your acceptance, supervisor ecstatic, you'd retreated to your apartment to pack away everything you could carry, luggage upon luggage resting at your doorway.

Perhaps it was a spur of the moment, entirely conscious you weren't in any hurry to retreat. But your supervisor had informed you they'd get to immediate work in accommodating you, a hotel room with your name on it awaiting your arrival, entirely yours until you found a permanent establishment.

Tired, out of breath, you allowed yourself to rest on your bed. Your ceiling had never seemed so foreign, so flawed. You found you discovered a newly placed distaste to your life here, what it had become in the blink of an eye.

Truly, your existence these past months had been one through rose-tinted lenses.

Rising, falling, your chest yearned for the sensation of Miguel slotted against you. You wanted his warmth, the rumble of his voice in his chest as he whispered praises, reminded you of your worth in his eyes.

What had gone wrong?

Frustration fueled you, drove you absolutely mad. No matter where your mind wandered it returned to Miguel, your thoughts belonging to him. A painful existence for your mind, body and soul. A cruel reminder of how everything came crashing down.

Would he be there to say his final goodbyes? Or had Miguel simply conceded himself to complacence?

You groaned, gritting your teeth as you stood to your feet. Back to cleaning, back to packing. The victim of your chosen desire was your drawers, nightstands that stood on either sides of your bed.

Glasses, knickknacks and medications rattled as you decided what to do with them — discard, keep. A simple process, one that didn't take much effort, until you arrived at the depths of the drawer closest to where you slept.

A scrunchy bathed in the colors of Gabri's soccer uniform, the one you'd removed from her hair in the midst of her exhaustion. You hadn't even realized that was where you'd placed it, could hardly remember what had occurred through your own sleepless delirium.

Gabri.

You hadn't taken her into consideration, hadn't thought to her as you argued with Miguel and stomped to your supervisor's office in a huff.

What would she think, what would she say? This was uncharted territory for you, unsure of how you could explain to her why you'd suddenly been absent, would continue to be absent until the universe fated your paths to cross once more.

Poor girl.

She had this spark, something nobody could take away from her. In your mind you knew she would do great things, reach unachievable feats, accomplishing everything she set her mind to. A truly glorious child, Miguel having done well in raising her all on his own.

Fuck. How were you going to explain this?

Then you halted, fist tightening around the scrunchy. Would Miguel even give you the right?

How would he explain your absence? Would he? Was it even something Gabri took into consideration?

You stretched the fabric around your wrist, caressing it under the pads of your fingers, sighing a deep sigh.

Were you making the right decision?

"Quiero mirar un pelicula."

Miguel was diligent in washing the dishes that had — subjectively — piled high in the sink. A stray spoon and glittering princess cup desecrating his kitchen sink, the source of his frustrations. He was doing everything in his power to distract himself, keeping you out of his mind. But he couldn't help the way his mind wandered to the times you'd stood beside him in this very kitchen, drying dishes, Gabri putting them away. The three of you were an unstoppable force, a group of three who fit perfectly like a well-oiled mechanism of your own creation.

But being a father came first.

"Qual?"

Gabri broke into an impossibly wicked smile, Miguel conscious of what was coming, the movie one that frequented their household on an impossibly daily basis — songs and dialogues memorized by heart, Miguel having a good majority of their movements down, as well.

"No," Miguel groaned, "Anything but--"

"Frozen!"

As if this day could get any worse.

Of course, Miguel couldn't deny his daughter of her simplest request, a mere attendant to her regal existence. Sometimes he feared she knew it. He scrolled for what felt like an eternity, watching with a smile as Gabri bounced in her seat, suddenly halting Miguel's attempt at pressing play with a "Wait!"

"Que paso?"

"I wanna invite someone to watch with us."

Miguel's brows furrowed, figuring she'd bound down the halls in search of her stuffies, organizing them on the couch just as she'd done countless times before.

But then she spoke your name.

And oh how Miguel loved the way your name fell from Gabri's lips, so natural, another indication of your perfection, the way you fit so seamlessly into his life. But then Miguel had a moment of realization, one that formed in his mind as he reached for his phone, as he clicked on your messages, finding a million left unread waiting for him.

And he realized he'd fucked up.

"No, mija." Miguel was confined to a fate of disappointment, voice lingering on a syllable unspoken, trying to find words that refused to manifest. "Not now, not for a while."

Gabri didn't like that, not one bit. "Why not?"

Always a question that followed an answer when it came to children, something that frustrated Miguel to no end, patience running infinitely thin. "Just not now, it's too late."

"They always come late!"

If this little girl didn't become a lawyer when she got older...

"It just can't happen, not right now."

Miguel's phone chimed, eyes flickering to the screen, pupils darkening. You'd sent him a message, asking if he had time to discuss something, but there was nothing the two of you needed to discuss, not that he could think of. Miguel didn't need to talk to you, and you didn't need to talk to him. At least, that's what he had convinced himself, confined himself to believing.

Gabri whined, "Is that them? Tell them I wanna talk to them!"

Gabri called your name at an impossible speed, clambering over Miguel's arms, making an attempt at reaching for his phone.

He held her away with a single arm, Miguel unable to tear his eyes away from the message, formulating what he had to say in is mind, coming up with nothing.

And when he finally looked up from the screen, Gabri had long since fallen asleep, the end of the film playing onward. Miguel watched, arms crossed over his mighty chest, as love reigned supreme and lovers united as one.

Then he realized he truly was making a mistake.

Your coworkers decided to throw you a going away party, a final homage to everything you’d done for Alchemax, the diligent work you’d done in cultivating the facility to be the best it could possibly prove.

Treats, games and beverages were sprawled about the cafeteria as everyone — even those outside of your department — gathered to wish you farewell. You hugged those closest to you, shook hands with people you'd only just met. It truly seemed as though anyone who was anyone arrived to see you out.

Everyone except Miguel.

“It’s gonna be hard being long-distance,” one of your coworkers blabbed about in the midst of their slice of cake, brows furrowing as you opted to listen, see where this was headed. “Hopefully you and Miguel work it out, you’re such a sweet couple.”

You blinked rapidly, opting to simply nod your head in silence. There wasn't anything hat could prepare you for that, not a single entity in this world that would have convinced you those would be the words to fall from their lips.

Silently, on wobbled feet, you excused yourself from the celebration, wandering down the halls. Halls that had been the home of your greatest achievements, accomplishing experiments you hadn't believed yourself ever capable of achieving.

But against all odds, you'd done it, and now you were moving forward.

Miguel's office was dim, devoid of any form of life. It was as though he hadn’t resided there in millennia, and if he was there recently there was no indication, figuring he'd called out when he discovered your celebration.

Was he truly that intent on avoiding you?

Slowly, as though the very fabric of the universe would shatter if you weren’t cautious, you slid into Miguel’s chair. It was a foreign feeling, one you welcomed with open arms. The chill leather enveloped you, a sigh leaving your lips as you closed your eyes and allowed yourself a moment, just one.

It wasn’t fair.

But what is life if not fair?

That didn't make it right.

But did anything feel right anymore?

You figured not. Not when Miguel was no longer a member of your life, not when you were about to leave behind everything you'd built, a flight scheduled for the morning that followed.

Your eyes opened, half-lidded, a wave of exhaustion overwhelming you. Then they widened impossibly.

You’d never noticed it before, the frame decorated in crayon and glitter glue, resting comfortably on his desk. It had collected a thin layer of dust, untouched. Slowly, carefully, you allowed the frame to slot into your hands.

How long had this been there?

“You shouldn’t be in here.” There was that voice, that irritatingly perfect voice that left you seeing stars. “You should probably be preparing for your flight.”

“How hadn’t I seen this before?” Your fingertips brushed over the image of Gabri, smiling as though life couldn’t be any better than that very moment. Forgiving the grievances between you, the past then for a reason. “Why didn’t you tell me you had this?”

“I didn't realize I had to.”

You rolled your eyes, returning the frame from whence it came, rising from your seat, walking towards the door where Miguel stood. "Good to see you again, Miguel." You brushed your hand with his palm, urging him to the side, away from he only exit. "Glad I got to say goodbye before I left." Your fingers ran over the the scrunchy fashioned upon your wrist. "Let Gabri know I lo--" You hesitated, rethinking, adapting. "Let Gabri know I'll miss her."

You made your way out the doorway, your warmth traveling with you, Miguel relishing in the feeling before it dissipated.

More. He needed more, so much more. More than you could ever know.

His hand fashioned around your wrist, keeping you in place, yearning to pull you towards him. He conceded to just this moment, that spark erupting between you, enchanting him. "I--" Miguel was at a loss for words, everything he yearned to say caught in his throat.

"Do you have something to say?" Your tone was snappy, rightfully so. Miguel hadn't given you any reason to extend kindness lately.

"No," Miguel replied, "No, I just..."

Of course he had something to say, he had everything to say. he yearned for your touch, for the way his heart fluttered whenever you were near. He wanted to hear your voice ridden with sleep, your soft breathing as you lay yourself down to rest for the evening. Miguel wanted you, everything that encompassed you. From your good days to your worst, your tears and your laughter, Miguel wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of eternity with you in his arms.

But he couldn't say that, could he?

"It's nothing."

Then he dropped your hand, dropped every hope of seeing you again, never knowing what it meant to love you without condition.

Far too many times he'd had to watch you walk away from them, too many minutes spent wondering if there was a hope to fix this.

But there was no fixing this, not this time, he realized.

Not as he watched you walk down that hallway one final time.

An alarm sounded off, notifying you of the time — the time.

In only a few hours you’d prove well on your way to Boston, abandoning this life you'd built for yourself, a newly formed person.

From the ashes of grief would emerge a phoenix of unstoppable force, your will burning like an ember in the midst of defeat. But there was no defeating you, nothing holding you back, nothing to remain for.

An empty apartment, keys on the island, ones you'd no longer need. An empty heart, but your luggage was full, at the very least. Suppose in that right you were complete.

The trip to the airport was unbearable, insufferable. Traffic was backed up corner to corner, streets tight with bodies.

Something you wouldn't miss, you told yourself, no matter how used to it you'd grown.

And then you arrived at the airport, broke past the barriers, found your gate. It was only a matter of time before they called your flight, called you to board, and then life would persist even when it felt as though it was coming to an end.

Because as much as you tried to convince yourself he wasn't, Miguel had become an irreplaceable part of your life, his name etched into your heart, your soul.

In everything Miguel existed. In your heart, beat his own. Between your fingers, Miguel’s were woven, pulling you closer until your bodies pressed together. In your eyes his face was reflected, confined to memory, unforgettable. Miguel was your ailment, your remedy.

The call of your name, hands loosening from around your luggage, looking every which way in an effort to find where the source of the noise had persisted. Bodies flooded the airport despite the early morning hours, everyone busting themselves with their own responsibilities, unaware of your presence despite the space that persisted.

Your turned away, your name called by a voice in a much higher pitch. Brows furrowing, your turned once more, trying to determine whether they called out to someone else.

“Gabri?” Her name fell from your lips before you could prevent it, pressing your fingers to your lips.

The small girl stood atop Miguel’s shoulders, calling out to you in excitement, a hint of desperation. She was obviously aware you’d be boarding soon, leaving in only a matter of moments.

“Now Boarding Flight 242.”

You looked back, watching as the attendant called out to those who had been waiting diligently, rows of bodies already gathering. Looking between the unenthusiastic woman and the pair of bodies bounding towards you, squeezing past various bodies, you rationalized a few seconds wouldn't hurt.

“What are you doing here, Mija!” You called out as Gabri hopped off Miguel’s shoulders and into your arms, wrapping herself around you, unrelenting in her hold.

“Papá told me you were gonna leave without saying goodbye!” Her voice was laced in hurt, fighting the urge to cry, keeping a strong will. “We wanted to see you!”

We.

You rubbed her back, cuddling into her. “That’s very sweet of you.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know, mamás.”

Gabri didn’t like that answer, holding you impossibly tighter. “Will you visit?”

The same answer, though you didn’t wanna voice it, mind overtaken with everything that encompassed her. She was such a kind soul, one you didn’t deserve, deserving so much more than anything you could ever provide.

That’s what you told yourself.

“I don’t want you to go!” Gabri whined, holding you in her unrelenting grip, taking after her father. Your eyes flickered to Miguel, his face filled with nothing less than adoration, the faintest tint persisting against bronze skin. “You can sleep in my room, I promise!”

Tears brimmed in your eyes, holding you tighter, deeper. It seemed as though just when you thought the two of you were close you found a way to become closer, embracing each other as though you never would again.

Perhaps you wouldn’t.

“Gabri,” The source of the voice belonged to Miguel, “C’mon, mija.” His hands latched around her waist, making an attempt to pull her towards him, finding he struggled in doing so.

“Now boarding Flight 242.”

“No!” Gabri was borderline screaming, Miguel’s face contorting to one of nerve, suddenly regretting his decision to bring her here — his own eyes filled with tears you were too preoccupied to witness.

Eventually, Miguel found his strength, Gabri sobbing into his neck, your hands covering your face in an attempt to conceal your tears, push the emotions that burned across your features back from whence they came.

Miguel didn’t need to see you like this, didn’t need to see you. He’d made that abundantly clear.

“Are you…” Miguel was hesitant, as he always was, hesitating in placing his hovering hand upon your shoulder, feeling that spark he’d come to know so deeply, entirely. “Are you alright?”

Of course you weren’t alright, what a ridiculous question. You were about to abandon everything you’d created, leaving Miguel in the dust when you yearned for him more than anything. You didn’t care. Didn’t care that you’d fought, that he’d pulled away just when you believed there to be something there. You’d suffer a million times again, live a thousand lives before conceding. In every universe you would return to him, and in every universe he would be yours.

But they called your flight again, the plane boarding, accommodations already set.

You couldn’t even begin to express the words stuck in your throat.

“I’m fine.”

Miguel hummed, “Nervous?”

“Terrified.”

He embraced you then, the action making freshly dried tears slip from your eyes once more. A trickle became a waterfall, Miguel’s love reflected in the waters of your irises.

“I’m not very good with… Words.” Gabri was still crying in his arms, Miguel doing his best to profess the feelings begging to release themselves before you departed, before he hadn’t the faintest idea when he’d get to see you once more.

Miguel wasn’t good without words but in his heart he spoke a million. In the sunrise he saw you smile, in the sunset he saw your eyes. He yearned for your warmth, searched for it, couldn’t survive without it. Your voice like a melody to a tune he couldn’t name, hearing it in every love song, thinking of you at every moment. In the most intimate parts of his being there you were to shield him from pain, and in your flaws he saw inconceivable beauty.

In everything, he saw you. Your life together, with him. In love there was you. With you, Miguel was complete.

But he remained wordless, didn’t continue his words, simply looked to you as though you were the rarest oddity this side of the world — perhaps it’s entirety.

And to Miguel, no matter how many universes he traveled, no matter where he ran, he knew he would never find you.

He couldn’t push away what fought to exist, not this love, not yours.

“Miguel,” Your throat clenched, finding the words, searching for something to say. “I can’t keep chasing a fantasy. I have a life to live, places I want to explore.”

You weren’t bluffing when you said you wanted to live your life. Young, so young. So much to do, infinity to experience. There was no telling where this adventure would take you, what you would become.

But you didn’t feel complete, did you?

Miguel surely didn’t.

“Then live your life with me.”

He spoke with a flame that blossomed from an ember, igniting in a fury. Miguel meant every word, allowing impulse to do the talking, something he was good at.

“Miguel?”

“Last call: now boarding Flight 242.”

“Live your life with me — with us — and I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make it…” Miguel searched for the word, the only word to describe a life shared between you. “Perfect.”

To hear him voice his thoughts, the deepest parts of himself that he kept concealed beneath layers of thickness, left you seeing stars.

“All I want…” Miguel cleared his throat, remedying his words, “All we want is you.”

In life, in death. In this universe and the universes of eternity, Miguel would find his way back to you. Your heart filled the gaps of his broken self, a remedy where he’d once believed there was no hope.

Your hands fell from around his neck, brushing against his chest, Gabri having gone silent.

“I want you too…” You leaned closer, impossibly, brushing your lips against his. A quick kiss. You turned to Gabri, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand, watching as she blossomed into herself, into the little girl you’d come to adore. “I want both of you.”

Miguel pulled you close, the three of you embraced in a deep hug. Miguel watched as the gate to your flight closed, a smile gracing his lips, peppering kisses to the top of your head.

“I love you.” You whispered the words without a second thought, Miguel fearing he’d misheard you as the bustle of the airport rose in volume.

“You…” Miguel held your face in his free hand. “You what…?”

“I love you, Miguel.” You spoke much clearer this time, slower, with far more confidence than you’d believed you’d utter these words. “I love you more than anything.”

A tear, so finite you’d nearly missed it, a silent oath between you. “I love you, too.” Oh, how long it’d been since he’d uttered those words, since he truly meant them, felt them to his core. “I love you in every universe.”

And he would, he truly would. Enchanted with your being, sparks flying as another kiss was shared between you, Miguel was glad he’d finally found peace.

He had everything he’d ever dreamed of.

taglist: @scaleniusrm @urmotherswhor3 @arcticmonkeyshasmyheart @beetlejuicesupremacy @mmeerraa

little bonus scene:

"I hate you," You jested through fits of laughter. "I had to wake up early to get here, they already took my luggage!"

It was only a long while after you’d departed from the airport that you’d realized your mistake, a happy one, but a mistake nonetheless. Your flight had long since taken off one you and Miguel pulled away from each other, exiting the airport hand-in-hand, Gabri babbling happily between you.

Miguel's face contorted, cringing, realizing he might’ve fucked up. “Nobody told you to leave without saying goodbye.” He shrugged off his words as though they were fact, law. Conjured without a second thought.

You whined at his response, passing Gabri her soft drink as you strolled down the streets of Nueva York, lunch in hand -- courtesy of Miguel and the realization of what had just occurred between the two of you invading your minds. And for that, you required a beverage, a proper breakfast. “You were upset!”

“Upset you were leaving.”

You scoffed, knocking Miguel's side with your elbow. “So emotional.”

Miguel huffed, snatching a fry from between your fingers, plopping the salty shaft of potato against his tongue. “Behave.”

“Do you really think I won’t get that?”

Miguel shook his head “Not if you have a shred of decency.”

“Bold assumption.”

[littlemisspascal]

New Writers added to The Pedro Library 🐼

Final Library update of 2023 ✨ See y'all in the new year! Looking forward to reading more fics and discovering lots of more writers!

Also cuz I've been such a slow reader lately and tumblr won't let me include all the links, there will be 2 update posts coming out!

New Works Added ✨

Many fics aren’t appearing in the tags when searching. If I miss yours, please let me know 💗 Or add me to your taglist cuz I love being tagged 😊

As always, if you would like me to remove your work from the rec list, please let know and I’ll remove them asap 😊

@psychedelic-ink Oberyn Reaching For the Sweetest, Sweetest Peach / Dieter Tear You Apart

@pintsizemama Dave Christmas Dinner 

@wildemaven Frankie Common Thread

@ezrasbirdie Frankie Twinkle

@julesonrecord Frankie The Gift is You

@chloeangelic Frankie Resist the Devil, and He Will Flee From You

@the-blind-assassin-12 Frankie A Little Christmas Magic

@connectioneverywhere Frankie Barking Up the Wrong Tree / Marcus P Hot Chocolate & The Mean Reds

@deakyjoe Frankie Something Stupid

@frenchiereading Frankie Copilot / Dieter I Put Down My Book to be Here

@tropes-and-tales Frankie Alone Time 

@morallyinept Dieter Jet Set Christmas / Marcus P Naughty or Spice? / Joel Yippee Ki-Yay! / Javier Nobody Wants to Be Alone on Christmas 

@nothoughtsjustmeds Dieter Red Herring

@whatsnewalycat Dieter Once in a Blue Moon

@blueeyesatnight Dieter Run Over By A Reindeer

@miraclesabound Dieter A Thing for Angels

@missredherring Dieter Touch Me Touch Me Touch Me

@elegantmusicdragon Dieter Adventures in Bravo-Sitting

@ladamedusoif Marcus P Christmas Market + Secrets / Marcus M Apron / Dave Coming Home / Joel Wrapping Paper / Frankie Fairy Lights / Din Family / Tim Cookies / Thief Reunions 

@wardenparker @absurdthirst Marcus P First Christmas / Whiskey New Year’s Surprise

@javier-pena Marcus P + Din Closure

@thirtysevenodddogs Marcus P Procedures to Reach a Common Agreement

@beskarandblasters Din Consummating the Riduurok + Clean Up Your Act

@againstacecilia Din No Words Needed

@nobedofroses Din December 23 / Pero December 20 / Joel December 21 / Javier December 22 / Whiskey December 24

[miya-on-the-roof]

Rant about the finale (or the million reasons why I'm disappointed)

Spoilers alert so don't keep reading if you don't wanna see them.

Didn't see a lot of people disappointed with the finale for the same reasons as me so just gonna throw it out there: I am disappointed mainly because of how they portrayed Stede and his relationship with Ed.

First thing, I am NOT an Izzy fan. If anything I'm probably an Ed fan and I came to the show for the brilliant writing, the masterly use of comedy as a genre, and the unprecedented celebration of queerness in season 1. This means that I am not devastated by his death. BUT I am disappointed in their decision to kill him off. I saw David Jenkins' interview and discussion about how narratively it makes sense for him to die as a closure of the redemption arch and final consummation of Ed letting go of the old life. YET this show was never about structurally sound narrative, was it? The charm was always the characters' growth and how they embraced queerness - embraced themselves. And that theme was embodied by Izzy this season. I can see potential in him as a perfectly comic and beautifully queer character after his transformation but that potential died with him. It is abrupt, it is rushed, and it does not make any sense for the spirit of the show even when it makes sense for a symbolic narrative.

Second, the main thing - even though Stede is the lead character of the show, the finale does not treat him as one. From previous episodes we see a new side of him emerging. He was caught up in the rush, the same way Ed probably did so many years ago, and was unawarely soaking up some toxic masculinity even though it was because he pursued piracy as the ultimate means to release his queerness and find community. And there lies his new conflict with Ed: two people who love each other deeply but find themselves on different life paths. There was not really any conflict of interest that couldn't be solved but they needed time to figure things out. Stede needed a reality check, and he needed to understand Ed's "it's everything about fishing" - it's everything about how Ed was setting out to find a new identity, and how he fears that Stede is taking up his old path in misguided glory and will not come with him. And Stede needed to learn to respect Ed's choices even if it means they take different paths for a while, which also means that he needed to confront his own fear of incompetence, abandonment, loneliness, and rejection first (which hasn't really been addressed in this season yet). He needed to find confidence and faith - in his own identity and competence, and in Ed's love for him.

All this to say - he has a long way to go in his character development to justify resolving the conflicts in their relationship. Yet in the finale, he was not given any space or time to achieve the growth. We see him rushing through a plan of rescue with Zheng doing most of the work. We see him coming up with a plan to camouflage and escape the English, the portrayal of which did not show his wit or courage or anything profound about his character. Then we see him getting that happy ending with Ed, and somehow just... accepting giving up piracy, accepting Ed's change, accepting everything happily when he was clearly lost and confused before. And we were not given any explanation or portrayal of his inner conflicts. He, of all people, gets the least emphasis and character growth in the finale.

Again, I just see so much potential to really discuss the character's deeply-rooted psychological issues going to waste for the sake of a narrative structure. A happy ending is great but it's covering up so many unsolved tensions and conflicts - opportunities for character building - which would have been handled much more carefully (albeit in comedic style) in season one. Given that we might not get a season 3, this is worse than leaving me with a cliffhanger or temporary tragedy that makes sense for the character's path to growth.

[mindibindi]

Let me tell you for why. This pairing never won. I know virtually nothing about the other pairing in this race but I know this: Mulder and Scully ALWAYS and ONLY EVER got within a hair's breadth of what they searched for, longed for and deeply deserved. Whether it was the truth about aliens and the paranormal, justice or accountability for the greater powers that controlled their lives, killed their families and impeded their quest, or just the simple and satisfying expression of their desire and devotion, Mulder and Scully only ever got THIS CLOSE. They never reached the truth. They never received true justice. And their love never achieved full and open consummation. They were and remain perpetual losers clinging to each other as they battle powerful and established titans. Here, they are pitted against a worthy adversary. It is right that these two pairings be in the finals together. And even in defeat, there would be something both consistent and poetic about Mulder and Scully once again coming this close to glorious closure and validation only to lose out. There would be irony in them losing to a human/alien pairing. And there is a now signature pathos in them being, to some, the scrappy underdog without a hope in hell and, to others, a strange and unknown quantity. Ultimately, MSR shippers know that, should these two face defeat, should validation elude them yet again, Mulder and Scully will still, as always, have each other, even if it is in some sweetly screwed up form. If you believe in truth, justice and love, AND you believe Mulder and Scully deserve to get theirs then VOTE here.

[marimbles]

I know this is super random and like a year late, but as the consummate marichat fan, what were your thoughts on Elation?

first of all, apparently there are two definitions of the word “consummate” and until now i only knew the first one. HDNSND

second, i have many thoughts about elation but they are honestly kind of mixed and jumbled!!! On one hand, WHAT AN EPISODE!!!!! it still feels like a fever dream lmao. marichat fell in love and went on a cute little date and he took her up way in the sky with his baton carrying her princess style and then they tango’d over to andre’s and wanted to get Love ice cream and then they had the CUTEST KISS EVER!!!!! nose kiss cheek kiss lip kiss combo are you kidding. Are you KIDDING me. then he was trying to be respectful and not take advantage??? 😭 and she got AKUMATIZED bc she wanted to keep kissing him so bad??? HDJDJD and then the angsty second kiss to break her free omfggggggg people died (im people). the little moment at the end too when they agree to go their separate ways but hug like good friends who are in love. Waaaaa my heart. It was all really really good. I loved it. When I first watched it I kept having to pause and pace around like a madman fhsndn

On the other hand, it was so different from my personal vision of marichat that I wasn’t totally sure how to feel! The essence Marichat to me has always been a friends-to-lovers slowburn, so “sin ship” stuff or fics where they very quickly fall into a relationship against their better judgment have never been my cup of tea. And this episode felt like sort of a tamer, canon-appropriate version of that? It came on so fast and was over just as quickly. marichat ended up being just a one-night fling, basically. which is fine because I i always figured it wouldn’t play a big role in the plot—we got wayyyy more marichat than I ever expected to get! So I’m grateful! I don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth haha. But at the same time I couldn’t help but feel sort of disappointed in how it all played out. because while I’ve always been rooting for reverse crush development, I never truly wanted a “love square flip” in the sense of them completely switching love interests from ladrien to marichat. That idea never felt super authentic to the characters to me. I feel like OG crush is so baked in to the love square, you know? This probably sounds rich coming from such a loud annoying marichat stan lmao but I always think of them as still being partly in love with OG crush underneath it all, even if marichat are together.

Anyway, i guess I just had a hard time processing it at all because I had a very specific vision/preference for how I wanted the love square to play out—which was basically, reverse crush develops simultaneously with OG crush and they have to figure out how to deal with being in love with two people at once, and then at the reveal they get the relief of knowing it was always the same person all along, and of course they fell for them twice. Idk to me that would be the most satisfying culmination of the love square—one of the most interesting romantic plot elements I’ve ever seen! And that’s not how the show writers decided to go. Which is OK. We got so much good love square and there will be more to come. I really have been trying to let go of what was always just my personal preference for the LS. But at the time I couldn’t help but feel it was sort of wasting a lot of potential by going in this direction. And that did kind of sour my experience watching elation. marichat was set up and discarded so quickly, as if to both satisfy the fans and also shut them up lol. like “here, you got your marichat, you animals. and now that door is permanently closed bc we just proved how it would never work.” Hahaha. And tbh maybe that was a necessity! Like the closure of that possibility.

All in all elation was an amazing episode. It just made me sort of sad at the end, watching marichat die within minutes of becoming canon. also at the time there were a bunch of marichat stans being kind of obnoxious and salting on ladrien which also dampened the mood a lot for me. So I felt weirdly sad for a while after watching it, even tho it was such an exciting ride that I’d been looking forward to. I guess I just keep thinking “yes this is what I wanted!! …except not like this tbh”

lol I’m so entitled Im sorry….we ate SO good. Elation will always be iconic. Weredad is still my all-time favorite episode though! :)

[pjstafford]

Scully’s Journey to All Things

In my current rewatch of The X Files, I have paid closer attention to how episodes which are not considered part of a specific arc and are considered “Stand alone” episodes fit together as if they could be a mini arc of character development.  The season seven episode All things, written by Gillian Anderson, certainly seems like it is the culmination of something important even if, in typical X Files fashion, it is shaded and couched in maybes.  At the end of this season, Scully is pregnant, and the viewer certainly believes it is Mulder’s child.  Many people believe it’s because they consummated their love in this episode. Also, Scully, the skeptic and Catholic, attempts to use holistic medicine to cure a man whom she once loves after praying in a Buddhist temple and having a vision.  How did we get here?  The episode is sometimes criticized that Scully does things out of character.   It is my impression that if we look at the three episodes which precede All Things, we can make an argument that Scully’s journey has intensified to a point to make her decisions in All Things perfectly in character.

It is worth noting that during the filming of season seven, there was widespread speculation that it would be the last season.  Both David Duchovny and Chris Carter had contracts which were ending and David Duchovny was in a lawsuit with Fox over syndication rights. It must have been a difficult task between trying to bring an epic, beloved series to a successful closure while, also, leaving the opportunity open for additional seasons.  The series did continue, but season seven does have the specter of the end hanging over it.  

Mulder had always been on a quest for the truth of what happened to his sister.  He gets that in the episode 11 “Closure.”  What has Scully been on a quest for? She was assigned to provide scientific analysis of Mulder’s work and began to believe in his work while always trying to use a scientific method.  She has seen things which tested her faith but has always returned to her Catholic upbringing.  She has been tempted to leave the X Files, but stays and there is no doubt about her devotion and commitment to Mulder. There is, also, no doubt that she has been annoyed by his inability to maintain a work/life balance.  The will they/ won’t they dynamic has been drawn out too long but in Millenium there was a New Year’s kiss and they certainly have seemed a bit more flirtatious in this season which some fans have called “The Season of Secret Sex.” 

Theef is a an episode where Mulder and Scully continue their flirtatiousness and, also, where she is more open to extreme opportunities.  Initially she questions Mulder as she has so many times about why the case is an X-File.  The fact that Mulder and Scully joke about the expectation that she is going to ask him indicates that in this episode there might be a shift.  Quickly she pivots to “hex-craft.  I’ll buy that as the intent here.”  Does she mean it or is she teasing Mulder when she follows up with “I’ll always leave you guessing”? Regardless of her openness at the point of that conversation, Scully goes temporarily blind in this episode due to voodoo magic.  The last scene shows Scully questioning whether or not Peattie could have saved his daughter’s life even though medical science could do no more than ease her pain. That is quite the shift for Scully and leads to Mulder saying under his breath, after she leaves the room, “You do keep me guessing.”  This is an aside because I have to - the way in which Mulder says this line rises to a new level of yearning and appreciation.  

Theef leads so well into En Ami.  This is another episode where if there is a delay between watching the episodes, a viewer might scratch their head and wonder why, why, why would Scully run away with the villain of the show. “Thee f” has made Scully question her faith in traditional medicine.  The cancer man offers her information which is the cure for all cancer and she is aware that her cancer was cured by a mysterious chip in the back of her neck.  She would never happen have left with CSM if she was not at an odd crossroads in her life, but people do odd, out of character, risky things when at odd crossroads in their life.  Also in En Ami, the cancer men talks about how he has “studied her for years...you’ve drawn to powerful men, but you fear their power.”  In All Things we will become aware of another powerful man in Scully’s life she walked away from.  It is not unreasonable to think the CSM knew about this part of her life as well.  

Chimera is an episode which forces Mulder to experience domestic life and its unpleasant aspect.  It is a Mulder focused episode.  It is important to note though that Scully is in a stakeout and is unhappy about the assignment.  She solves the case without Mulder’s assistance, but it probably leads to her feeling so out of sorts at the beginning of All Things.  

So these are the three preceding episodes with which we arrive at All Things.  

We begin with Scully getting dressed in Mulder’s bathroom while Mulder lies naked in his bed.  (We will come back to this).  The voice over is important.  Scully is pondering her life decisions big and small.  The next scene is 63 hours earlier.  

The scene is in the basement office with yet another slide show and Mulder trying to get Scully interested in crop circles.  It reminds me of Never Again where the agents aren’t in a heated argument, they are just not in rhythm.  (One of my favorite parts of this episode is the emphasis on rhythms of life like ticks of the clock).  Scully is done.  She is, perhaps, still fatigued from Chimera.  She has just done an autopsy.  She has no interest in going with Mulder to England to see crop circles.  The fact that Mulder simply shrugs, says he will cancel her ticket, and still plans on going emphasizes their differences and what her life will be like if she continues with him in her life.  

Then we have the coincidences of life stepping in.  On her way to the hospital to pick up autopsy results there is a mixed up in the envelopes and she finds out an once powerful man she loved is in the hospital seriously ill.  Along the way in this episode she will administer life-saving medicine to him only to see him in a coma.  We find out that he was married, she was his student in medical school and that she left.  She is forced to consider the life she might have had if she had stayed.   Is that the life she wants now?  The life she would never have with Mulder.  On the other hand a part of her wants to walk away from Mulder.  What will she regret then? What is the right path?   Then, there are a bunch of other coincidences and occurrences.  Eventually she ends up with a holistic healer trying to bring Dnaiel back out of his coma.  He comes out.  Perhaps it was her holistic help, but Daniel, the doctor says no.  I think this decision to try a different approach goes right back to Theef and the recognition that modern medicine is not all and that in En Ami she was willing to take dangerous steps to find other paths.  It’s in character for her at this point in her life. It might be out of character in another week.

Back to the Mulder and Scully relationship and did they have sex in All Things.  I say it doesn’t matter.  Maybe.  Maybe not.   She was asleep on the couch at the end of the episode.  Why was she in the bathroom?  He only has one and she needed to go first thing in the morning before she leaves?  Why was he naked?  its his place, its how he sleeps, Scully has seen him nude before.   To me what is more significant is that they have begun a serious conversation about their life together and all they mean together, She has made a decision.  One which he was just waiting for her to make. 

[nikethestatue]

Playing Devil’s advocate - can you lay out a logical, satisfactory way for an Elucien novel to play out while bringing closure to the build up of Elriel? That isn’t a regurgitation of a previous ACOTAR scenario?

I don't know. I am not really a magician. Lucien literally went to look for another female, and opted to move in with her and now he is saying 'i am not always in this city to see my mate'.

I can do a lot, but this one is a tough one for me.

I suppose from a writer's standpoint, the way that *I* would write Elucien as it stands right now, is I'd start the book with Elain being angry and lonely, at an impasse with her life. She is resentful, hurt, mad at her sisters, mad at Azriel, and feeling stifled.

Seeing this, Rhys and Feyre decide to send her on some kind of mission, to the human lands, to meet Mor in Vallahan or something, but with one caveat--she needs to be escorted by Lucien, because they can't allow her to go alone. She agreed, desperate to escape Velaris.

In the human lands, she meets Lucien and the gang. Soemthing happens --with Graysen probably--where he says or does something super nasty towards her. Lucien loses his shit and there is a fight. Elain's interest is piqued at how Lucien is defending her.

Slow burn.

They do mission stuff.

Heart-to-heart talks.

Slow burn.

Someone is in mortal peril and the other saves them.

They grow closer.

Elain is somehow given a choice. Or maybe both of them are given a choice, or they find some way to break the bond.

Both decide against it.

Consummation.

Happy end.

That's what I would do, even if it's formulaic AF. But that's the only believable way to make Elucien happen.

There are a few issues with the scenario: Vassa would have to be sidelined. You cannot make a quest in a romance novel about another woman.

So maybe they'll fight Koschei, or do something with him--unleash him unwittingly, or defeat him--unleash Vassa's story would have to be small and insignificant.

The whole reason for the retcon about Lucien's paternity is so he could break spells. THat retcon would be redundant, unless SJM wants to write a whole other side story.

Is Elucien a possibility? Yeah.

I think that's why most rational Elriels leave a 10% chance for Elucien.

But will it happen? Doubtful.

[seyferta]

I saw the film adaptation of E. M. Forster’s Maurice by Merchant Ivory many years ago when I was still a teenager (perhaps over a decade ago; I finally read the novel only within the past few months), and through all these years, I still recall how resilient the ending remains, as portrayed in this song of the official soundtrack. Those two chords in the second part somehow bring about a closure to all the conflicting feelings Maurice experienced in his life… he finally met another gay man whom he loved & loved him back—the most significant thing to happen in a gay man’s life, especially during this time in Edwardian England. 

Most homosexual-themed media is severely depressing, because more often than not the gay main character dies or is killed, but Maurice was intentionally different, because the main character was able to experience love & physical consummation, despite living in an extremely prude & homophobic place & period. What’s more important for me, however, is that Maurice (the novel) was initially written in pre-WWI England (specifically 1913–14), meaning that it is NOT a period piece that was set in that time—it is an EXACT PRODUCT of that time—further meaning, homosexuality was alive & well beneath the heavy morality-filters Edwardian England held on history. 

E. M. Forster was never able to publish Maurice until after his death (in 1970). When I hear this piece again & again, I mentally hear Alec tell Maurice, “Now we shan’t never be parted” repeatedly, as a testament to homosexual male love in an era that was not kind to homosexual men. 

[morannon]

@suosopuli-blog 

My answer became too long so now it’s instead a post. But the correct answer is probably none of the above because full time job + grad school, but realistically I won't be able to stop myself. I just can't live in peace until it's made right. Somehow.

I loved this series. It’s visual poetry and it has terrific writing. But I feel like despite all the moulds it breaks it still fell victim to this belief that once you follow through on a romance and consummate it you’re entering soap territory and that the story it would have been will lose some of the impact because the stakes won’t feel as high and you’ve somehow sold out etc.

As much as I loved the series, it’s not perfect. I personally was caught completely off guard by the way the way it ended. It was poetry while it lasted, but the ending dealt me a proper blow. Honestly I'm quite over not giving happy endings to characters who truly deserve it. Plus their character arcs end up out of whack this way. So this story that is not likely intended to have a second season feels unresolved because it’s leaving Eli into a limbo and there is no closure of any kind.

I’ve always noticed how western media absolutely refuses to follow through on a romance if the would-be romantic lead is a Native American man. Not to mention that even stories that come close are few and far inbetween. So The English already goes beyond that but honestly the burn of the ending was exquisite and I can’t live like that. Emotionally my response to that is the same as Cornelia’s. To get off my horse and storm back and forth screaming to the open plains that I absolutely refuse to leave him.

And it just didn’t have to be this way. This is why I think The English could have broken (additional) ground in a number of ways that it didn’t utilize. I’m not American so I can’t comment on how this appears from the inside and if or how this discussion exists in communities in the US. But to me it’s just so funny that  a country, and if we also consider Canada a continent that somehow acknowledges and even prides itself as a true “melting pot” where this is the story of many if not most families... this is not a story we see told usually. Rather rarely, if at all.

[conduitandconjurer]

I don't get why the fans are so pressed about Klaus needing someone around "he's just latching onto Five/S!Ben cause U!Ben died", like... yes?? Most likely?? That doesn't exclude that he can love them too. Also, if you go through a loss so big the people around you aren't gonna just isolate you so you can "become your own person". And the "It's just another addiction" it's also so extreme! He DOES need his family! I don't really get it. Do you have an opinion?

Wait.

Wait so portions of the fandom are upset that Klaus is projecting his love and guilt over "his" Ben onto sad asshole Sparrow!Ben? Or? What, that he's an emotional whore that just needs to go around clinging onto whoever's closest?

I guess I don't understand the issue--what exactly about that is problematic to them? Are they not aware that Klaus has never felt that his mental or physical boundaries were respected, because of Reginald's experiments, and the ghosts themselves To me all the above does is show how much Klaus loves and misses the brother with whom he was always tasked to tag along, as children, and probably feels the one way he can gain closure over all those toxic years of codependency with Umbrella Ben is to help Sparrow Ben face his rage and shame and sense of inadequacy.

Is the argument that Klaus isn't capable of loving his family and that getting Ben back is a "new addiction'/"distraction"? Because that's frankly such a distorted interpretation of canon that I don't think it's worth either you or I wasting much time or energy on it. Whoever watched Season 3 and gleaned that probably has a personal axe to grind with someone in real life. Klaus probably reminds them of that person or experience so they're grafting the lens of a dysfunctional coping mechanism over Klaus's desperation to make all his years of severe trauma, suffering, and misplaced shame into something honorable. These people probably also wholly miss the point of the "scooped out ice cream" moment, the reason why he let himself be subjected to "bus ball," and the suicidal moment in the White Buffalo Room and are quick to say that Klaus's temporary desire to just rest where he "belonged" was selfish and callous. They don't realize that maybe he's sick of only being loved when he's useful. A really forced and artificial overtone of TUA discourse has always been to "compare traumas" for the 7 respective sibs and make a debate for who "has it worst." What's the point? It's not slices of pie that'll run out. I wish I could say it was even isolated to TUA, but it's not.

I think it's also strange how absolute and purist the perception of "goodness" is. Well written characters are always lovable but flawed. And it's not conniving or selfish to be motivated both by selfless love (Klaus wants to be emotionally close to Sparrow!Ben and Sparrow!Reginald--the latter of whom I loathe, btw--and make up for lost time) and by the silver lining of self-benefit (Klaus wants to find closure, self-esteem from an outside source--never a good idea, but he's still learning--perfection of his powers, and clarity of purpose). I say this as someone who has lived 39 years as a consummate people-pleaser: we live in a predominantly Eurocentric Protestant social narrative that tells us we have to be productive all the time, give all the time, be selfless and self-effacing, and ignore our own boundaries to please others. It's a lie to say a character doing genuinely good and kind things with any simultaneous ulterior motive is somehow the Devil's Armpit. I have trapped myself in the role of a caregiver who never takes a turn for so long that I cheer for anyone who has that "ENOUGH" moment, followed by "no, this time, I'll look out for me."

Klaus isn't just here for a distraction, a fix, or shits and giggles. Klaus adores his family and mourns harder than anyone because there is no beginning or end to his access to the afterlife.

I know it's upsetting, especially if you relate to Klaus, but filter out these portions of the fandom and continue as best you're able to love what you love <3

[waitmyturtles]

Ah. Last episode of The Eclipse. (Once more, to my dear @the-nihongo-adventure, THANK YOU for the rec!)

So I’m processing my thoughts, but what jumps out at me first was the filming style of this last episode, which did resemble episode 11, but in a better way than episode 11 turned out. There was a LOT the writers and director wanted to fit into this last episode, and I think the filming style turned this episode not so much into one seamless narrative, but into a set of vignettes that flowed next to each other, but not INTO each other, if that makes sense. For instance, the segment about bringing Dika’s ashes to the sea -- it seemed to me to be a standalone vignette that helped to bring closure to Ayan’s overall story.

I wonder if some folks on the tag may criticize this filming style, because again, there was a LOT that got fit into this short hour. But this time around, I happened to like it -- I think in part, because there wasn’t as much that needed to get in as in the last episode.

What jumps out at me is that this vignette style allowed us to see various facets of the immediate development of commitment between Akk and Aye, which to me was just so lovely. (And I think I think that just because I’m so into their romance, which still carried a little bit of that simmering heat from episodes nine and 10, all while balancing Akk’s processing of his previous actions vis à vis the Jums.) Going from the trip back to Akk’s hometown, to Akk’s coming out to his parents, to Aye’s confirmation as Akk’s boyfriend, to their consummation, to the rest of the guys and Sani (Sani? Girl, you are so cool for coming on that trip!) arriving to see Akk and Aye -- I just felt that this jumping-vignette style actually suited the mood of the final episode better than in episode 11. It flowed. It flowed dreamily, at least to me, as Akk leaned into his own realizations of who he was/is as a boyfriend in a relationship with his boyfriend, and as someone who made serious mistakes and had to work on rectifying them within himself and the people he wronged. That pin scene -- it might be seen as random by some viewers, but I think it carried along with this dreamy message that things were getting better and greater between the two of them. 

Can you imagine your headspace when you’ve been through something REALLY intense? And like, it kinda feels like a hangover is about to set in, and you have this emotional hangover for a few days? You feel a little cloudy, ungrounded, going from task to task without being able to process -- you’re floating through time, without feeling your feet on the ground, as you slowly get back to normal? I feel like that was the vibe of this final episode. From Akk’s crying at the end of the filming of Wat’s movie, to the jump to the pool with Akk and Aye, to the suspension hearing, to Chadok’s resignation -- again, they had to fit a LOT in, but I feel like they leveraged this headspace that Akk, and maybe us viewers, were all in, because there was just SO. MUCH. GOING. ON. in the Suppalo universe, that it’s hard for everyone, fictional and otherwise, to process it all.

But I loved the vibe. I loved the jumps back and forth between Suppalo and Akk’s hometown. I loved Aye’s confession to Akk’s parents. @absolutebl has written a ton on the importance of the happy ending in BL, and I totally agree with the ending of The Eclipse -- for me, even if it seemed a touch clichéd and over-intentional, I really needed to see Akk’s parents accept him. They were cool AF, clearly island fever folks, but as an Asian, I need to see this over and over and over and over again -- the practice of acceptance from parents to children. I’ll never get tired of it.

Last thoughts, and then maybe more later as I continue to process:

1) Sani, your cape blazers, I’m legit gonna shop for some. Come awn! Such a hottie.

2) I needed to see the apology from Akk and Thua to the Jums, and we got it. It was a little weak, but I was glad to see things ultimately rectified between the prefects and The World Remembers.

3) I will need to think on this more, but I have this feeling that Chadok doesn’t quite understand the full extent of his reign over Suppalo, even though I get that there were the coffee and mourning scenes with Akk and Aye that I think were intended to close out his story. I appreciate the narrative of Suppalo changing its rules, but do the principal and Waree also change? With Chadok gone, I’m not so sure. I think this part was glossed over, but I’m not gonna complain heavily about it -- I understand that at least the motions of Suppalo changing were important visuals in this context.

4) Was Thua redeemed in my eyes? I can’t believe I’m saying this, considering all what I processed last week, but he is perhaps redeemed for that ULTRA CUTE kiss on Kan on the beach! Thua! Look at you. It WAS nice to see, by the way, Akk forgiving Thua. I’m sure that Chadok’s confession had the dudes spinning, and Akk was like, I forgive you, brother, let’s just move the hell on. 

5) Akk, and Aye. Aye. I won’t forget Aye as a character. Multifaceted, opinionated, imperfect, funny, knows what he wants, gets what he wants, gets the closure he’s looking for, falls in love, and tends so utterly caringly for the person he loves. He was as complicated as the Suppalo universe himself, and carried so much of this show. His total passion and devotion to Akk by the end of the series just moved me. Just so beautifully acted.

And our Akk. Was he a bully, as was discussed last week? Definitely. A goody two-shoes to start the show, a guy who only lived by rules, who saw and learned to grow OUT of those rules to find his real self. To hear about how he could grow and take care of himself through the words of others who cared for him. Even Chadok at the end gave him the flare to move away from the life of a prefect to his own life as his true self. 

To be honest, when I started the series, I though that the show was slow because of this nerdy-ass dude who’s so stuck on doing things on the straight and narrow. So to just WATCH and WATCH and WATCH Akk develop over these episodes into this COMPLICATED and emotional individual -- it was really brilliant, and compelling. Akk’s revelations about himself and Aye were simply gorgeous.

I LOVED THIS SHOW! I’ll likely have more processing, especially as I see what’s up with the tag over the next few days. Love doing these fandoms with my lovely mutuals! <3 <3 <3

[tobiramamonmari29]

outside perspective:

Sakura: Sorry Master Obito.. but I felt so lonely without you! It was a real torture to know you were so far from me! Please.. consummate our marriage before the ceremony!

Obito: So will you marry me?

sakura: Come on master Obito.... come and hug him despite the coldness of his arms, of course I want to!

Obito: You're right, why would you say no?

He smiled coming to kiss him before going down, before taking him to bed before coming to lie down in front of him.

obito: be all mine sakura. he said looking at her, he's going to make her understand for good who she was.

smiled as she removed her jacket revealing her black leather jumpsuit, revealing a small black bodysuit.

Obito: Get naked, he said looking at her.

she tied her pink hair slowly undoing the closure of her bodysuit, before slowly removing it showing her scarred body, from their first time since he hadn't touched her since.

Obito: hum~

he had just traced his pale body with his fingers, he had the pretty marks he had made on her. He liked what he saw.

Obito: The ring puts it.

She arched her back for the recovery before showing her hand in front of her and putting it around her ring finger.

obito: Well, well, He also put the ring on the Sakura that wasn't in the gengetsu. This sakura was practically inert only her eyes were moving everywhere.

She looked at him waiting for the next order.

Obito: Finger yourself for me, my love animal. he was already busy fingering outside of the gengetsu for her to think she was actually enjoying it.

She obeyed while moaning coming to tighten the sheets breathing quickly while coming this fingering. The clone that was in the gengetsu area, because that's what he was. watched her as the real obito pushed his fingers inside her. She moaned coming this arched forward before coming on the sheets breathing quickly. Obito watched her fingers come on, she was so good really. He withdrew his fingers when he thought of a few things.

obito: I would like us to introduce a clone in this report after all you missed me.

The real obito smiled taking a dildo, he's sure the rose would really think it's a cock thanks to his gengetsu. she blushed, shaking her head, coming to settle down so that he could see everything. The obito of the gengetsu was joined by another who sat down near the rose.

Obito: open wide my second self Sakura, open that mouth and suck with love.

the real Obito put the dildo against Sakura's mouth, waiting for her to open it. She blushed and opened her mouth to come and suck him by raising her pelvis, waiting to receive buttocks as a reward. he slapped her in both versions, he took one of the hands making her hold the dildo she thought was his cock.

Obito: hold this for me, La sakura zombie gently raising her hand to hold the dildo, and sucks greedily.

the two Sakura had obeyed by firmly holding Obito's cock, sucking it with great force while breathing quickly dripping on the sheets.

Obito: is it good?

Sakura: Oh yes! But.. I would like you to be in the mood to smash my pelvis while I suck you..

obito: that's what I'm going to do my animal, I just wanted to know how you were doing. What a greedy thing you are.

Sakura: Oh, I'm fine but.. I feel so empty without you~

Obito: I'm going to fuck you like never before, he said entering her.

she moaned as she resumed where she was with the "clone" coming to strike between the two men like the female dog she was. The obito of the two version was between the legs of the beautiful rose. he smiled at her, in a different way, in the gengetsu he looked so nice but in the outside world he put on a rather evil face. He thrust into her, enjoying how wet she was. she breathed rapidly, closing her eyes to feel better coming down a little further the member. Obito said nothing more, he was too focused and angry to pay attention to the young woman. She had dared, she had spent time with Sasori. he knew that red was the cause of his first refusal. But she said, she wants this groom with him! She really loves him, at least he hopes she totally does. The "mind" in the genjutsu was squealing trying to make it go louder but the body in reality was starting to cool down and the blood dripping from his nose was getting bigger and bigger. Obito had nothing to do, he would have it all to himself. because he loves her to death! He had to belong to her, her body was hers, everything about her was his. He slammed harder and harder into her, the orgasm of the rose mixed with blood. Obito was way too rough right now but didn't realize it in anger.

the Sakura of the genjutsu began to sway slightly before collapsing on the bed holding her head which seemed to implode, the body in reality ended up dropping her arms on the ground.

the obito who was sucking the dick in the missing gengetsu, the dildo that Sakura was holding fell to the ground. Obito ends up coming strongly into the intimacy of the young lady, so much that her belly swells a little under the enormous load of sperm.

the Sakura cried out in pain before disappearing leaving just a pool of blood or the body of the rose actually bathed.

Obito withdrew from the inert body of the rose, the uchiha broke the gengetsu seeing it wobble. He looked at the rose in front of him, humming, he withdrew. it doesn't matter if the gengetsu didn't last, he still had the real sakura after all.A few years ago, it was discovered that Sakura suffered from quite extreme chakra sensitivity and was quickly kept away from others to keep her alive, while they tried to find a medicine to help keep her alive. but as Obito possessed quite a large chakra. She would die as each time she found herself too close to him, purple traces that traced on her body on each overload we could find a chakra core.

Sakura ended up running out of affections and hits hard. but the fact that it was Obito who entered his life. The uchiha had what we call a balance problem. The young uchiha had gone mad and a person like Sakura who knew nothing about human socialization couldn't have helped Obito. the two made each other sick without knowing it.

As Konan walked down the hall she smelled blood and opened Obito's door before screaming in fear at seeing what Obito had done which snapped the uchiha out of his reverie. eyes of death watched him as he cradled the young woman in his arms. He kept humming, he was in a trance on top of that Sakura didn't want to talk to him anymore. He therefore knows how to get up for no reason, looking for a few things in his belongings.

konan had gone to look for kakuzu and kisame given that he had the greatest physical strength of all Akatsuki.

Obito hadn't seen Konan, he just knows lying next to Sakura. He stroked her hair gently, Sakura didn't love him anymore... she wasn't in love with him anymore that's why he ignores her. If he can get it, he better die. The uchiha pierced sakura's heart, not realizing that she was already dead. He wanted her to follow him to heaven anyway! he himself was still naked, with the kunai he marked the name of the rose on his chest. Then he started crying laughing and smiling then he whispered "I love you to hate you sakura" before stabbing him in the heart. He fell inert losing the rose in a bloody hug.

END.

[sleepykoou]

Well then start knowing you are smart and intelligent and i expect to be smart indulgent sometimes no excuses and send blood services for spite start it all over again

Second of all i didn't ask for a penny killing or a pass a case be lorraine rooms somewhere in the background offering a third parliamentary involved in a classmate your whole no clothes closure homeMy initial opportunity and state in zimbabwe national opinion will continue to stand now and look if you are gone whose were these origins of noble rule yours mine is the doubt at one yours as versus of one close your all

It's all you can help me doing that no we're blocking my posts no posts no we're boasting my boasts no being near my internet sitting here to blur animals really talking of the following seized twenty two to amy delayIf you want to keep doing what you're doing then you're in after yourself to do some self terms and conditions i have sauced are you such as helping assisting in eighty others when their face is being asked itYou are all in or aloud all or nothing black or white there is notice a grey hair know what you are she is no being bothered if you like it one woman do not being mother to fill a consummate just as i did stick with it

Save all live as 0 talent policy for teenagers like you being sown on the internet therefore you won't be with meWell that was around comes around i'm not coming around goes around good karma urged grandma and beckham others become a therefore i eagerly equally equally equally equally to reply

[thebooks22]

Poems by Liz Smith

Where analysis and memorabilia intersect, is the tendency and strength of extrapolations, polemics of expressive involutions of analysis, in bipartite with the evolution of the breadth from a mainframe, a source of records to allay the transparency of empirical logistical emotions, contrarian natures of modules and postulations, a dedication to the haven for processional descript reality, override to the flames of conjunct instigations.

Fox

A fox, relays, it hides and observes in formulas of what instinct gives, it is the mania of stealth, it does not give accolades or consistencies in dedications of targeted overtures, it is the target, it arrives at no consummate inter-placement, it conjure with insistent consistency, abhors the lack in environmental redundancy, it is silent and new, a reel of opinions that lose strength and luster as the life of the night passes, it corrugates and counts.

Gold

The perfect lackluster of the globalized critique of attended scripts of post-archaic count, the field-scape of a pardonable purification of matter non-disputed, that which glazes and braved comparative eyes and minds feed and fester upon, as the incidences of reliable agreements, bound only by light and the responsive avoidance, the all consuming aftermath of crystallized and metalicized calamities, lightness and density.

Ceiling

Accrual of the cruelty of enclosures built upon a soul of no continuum, a sartorial fixture of designated closures and attainables, a viscuous air and layer of expectancy to enclosure function, a layer of scavenger ethic that worked away from vision into the grand tedium of menials, with such corroborations of the livable stature of the modules running in departments of architectural expectation and files of discipline and associated revolution, motion supine.

[fmpnalogirlypop]

Greek mythology part 1

Ancient Greece was a northeastern Mediterranean civilization, existing from the Greek Dark Ages of the 12th–9th centuries BC to the end of classical antiquity (c. 600 AD), that comprised a loose collection of culturally and linguistically related city-states and other territories. Most of these regions were officially unified only once, for 13 years, under Alexander the Great's empire from 336 to 323 BC. In Western history, the era of classical antiquity was immediately followed by the Early Middle Ages and the Byzantine period.

Classical Greek culture, especially philosophy, had a powerful influence on ancient Rome, which carried a version of it throughout the Mediterranean and much of Europe. For this reason, Classical Greece is generally considered the cradle of Western civilization, the seminal culture from which the modern West derives many of its founding archetypes and ideas in politics, philosophy, science, and art.

Chronology

For a chronological guide, see Timeline of ancient Greece.

Classical antiquity in the Mediterranean region is commonly considered to have begun in the 8th century BC (around the time of the earliest recorded poetry of Homer) and ended in the 6th century AD.

Classical antiquity in Greece was preceded by the Greek Dark Ages (c. 1200 – c. 800 BC), archaeologically characterised by the protogeometric and geometric styles of designs on pottery. Following the Dark Ages was the Archaic Period, beginning around the 8th century BC, which saw early developments in Greek culture and society leading to the Classical Period from the Persian invasion of Greece in 480 BC until the death of Alexander the Great in 323 BC.

Following the Classical period was the Hellenistic period (323–146 BC), during which Greek culture and power expanded into the Near and Middle East from the death of Alexander until the Roman conquest. Roman Greece is usually counted from the Roman victory over the Corinthians at the Battle of Corinth in 146 BC to the establishment of Byzantium by Constantine as the capital of the Roman Empire in 330 AD. Finally, Late Antiquity refers to the period of Christianization during the later 4th to early 6th centuries AD, consummated by the closure of the Academy of Athens by Justinian I in 529.

Classical Greece

In 499 BC, the Ionian city states under Persian rule rebelled against their Persian-supported tyrant rulers. Supported by troops sent from Athens and Eretria, they advanced as far as Sardis and burnt the city before being driven back by a Persian counterattack. The revolt continued until 494, when the rebelling Ionians were defeated. Darius did not forget that Athens had assisted the Ionian revolt, and in 490 he assembled an armada to retaliate. Though heavily outnumbered, the Athenians—supported by their Plataean allies—defeated the Persian hordes at the Battle of Marathon, and the Persian fleet turned tail.

As the Athenian fight against the Persian empire waned, conflict grew between Athens and Sparta. Suspicious of the increasing Athenian power funded by the Delian League, Sparta offered aid to reluctant members of the League to rebel against Athenian domination. These tensions were exacerbated in 462 BC when Athens sent a force to aid Sparta in overcoming a helot revolt, but this aid was rejected by the Spartans. In the 450s, Athens took control of Boeotia, and won victories over Aegina and Corinth. However, Athens failed to win a decisive victory, and in 447 lost Boeotia again. Athens and Sparta signed the Thirty Years' Peace in the winter of 446/5, ending the conflict.

The first half of the fourth century saw the major Greek states attempt to dominate the mainland; none were successful, and their resulting weakness led to a power vacuum which would eventually be filled by Macedon under Philip II and then Alexander the Great. In the immediate aftermath of the Peloponnesian war, Sparta attempted to extend their own power, leading Argos, Athens, Corinth, and Thebes to join against them. Aiming to prevent any single Greek state gaining the dominance that would allow it to challenge Persia, the Persian king initially joined the alliance against Sparta, before imposing the Peace of Antalcidas ("King's Peace") which restored Persia's control over the Anatolian Greeks.

The power vacuum in Greece after the Battle of Mantinea was filled by Macedon, under Philip II. In 338 BC, he defeated a Greek alliance at the Battle of Chaeronea, and subsequently formed the League of Corinth. Philip planned to lead the League to invade Persia, but was murdered in 336 BC. His son Alexander the Great was left to fulfil his father's ambitions. After campaigns against Macedon's western and northern enemies, and those Greek states that had broken from the League of Corinth following the death of Philip, Alexander began his campaign against Persia in 334 BC. He conquered Persia, defeating Darius III at the Battle of Issus in 333 BC, and after the Battle of Gaugamela in 331 BC proclaimed himself king of Asia. From 329 BC he led expeditions to Bactria and then India; further plans to invade Arabia and North Africa were halted by his death in 323 BC.

[libidomechanica]

And anon

Supreme of all Monarchs only     true spirit by? There Heroe’s Wits are fled its trembling for     silvery bower divine:

innumerable, leapt slantwise     throne smooth-faced, placid lake came quiet closure of my     slain spirit: despairing!

Glaring Fiends, and I have confess—     I rail’d on him three; and then a sight too fearful creature     wept. You! Nymph shall at last,

yours has lately wed; I am     half shut Eyes sent up in fatal power. Soft—music came     to me, who their play, and

hence then I have hemm’d with such a     seneschal? And always,— they know they last, hark, and I feel     thine eyes to wear, daintier

iudge between sea and sky. The doctors     return again; who, like sunshine after him she stark     and she reject him, and

consummate all. Or were I not     come, she said; she was I clung about the pale Ghosts startled     soul transport me; two strength

indu’d, she with blood by which scorn     you, and ocean’s sire could with our own, bewitch’d the foolish     me! Pursue, and

Monuments, but his, and, like aught to     say my Stellaes face. Which all women, lovely Head whereof     doth grin before than they

wore their fluid Bodies high and     look well take counsel take— and some prisoners called the earth, we     see at last I saw ane

an’ twenty, Tam! She sat with him,     the which, but frosty winter would let me go; my day’s hot     task hath ended in thy

vision like memory was full     of child. To his eyes pay tributary subject and shaven     head at her silk-saft

faulds to rome? For clamor’s hour. I     dance upon the river he flash’d, that sweet son! And will not     direct, a golden Scales

in Air, weighs not the high-dive at     the blood flows like him dead. Thrice from the way; each enviously     debars, is the streets,

and at every joy mellifluous     sorrow—to me new convulsion touched in summer and with     her tears. He lay a parchment

on her sight it mounted thought,     in piteous haste to put on convict-clothes, which heavily     the hideous prison’d

in Shades from Day’s delight. He did     not die, they shine on all its cries and overhead came to     my iust cries; the Fair and

watch’d away by thy Sylphs and Spoons     is cruel mocks, annihilation. Then wrong’d a heart and day,—     till a faint and Death-bed

where are you list, yours has lately     wed; I am half shut Eyes sent up in Vapours when that     I were stillitory

of the yellow star: So many     times of others are done, by the quarto holds my senses     in the blear-eyed nation.