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libidomechanica · 11 months ago

Text

Though rarely

A sonnet sequence

Stanza I

Why was Cupid a boy, and you got it, rubbing you catch men vainly decimate the true poet here? Though rarely. He trudged along, unknown, some haycock, or sing it? Of both are borne, Our life in each! But words. As soon eclipsed as briskly as the Christian trim, and he must needs destroying. Now that I promise of a parting is yearning. But that’s sure to find the monsoon we shall see what fatigues the street a Parke grew dumb, for you shalt be in your Foliage, are dante and greene; When I see their leader sang—and bounded by darkness, art with Wellesley’s gloriously—when he dies!

Stanza II

His part, say, what matter whether with such as the luckiest sinner it, or fall away fled every bones are cast on the gradations to my pains? Mean as I am, for lady’s wrist too many lies and more deceit within your master of his less please, can pleasure, our destines are figures, we are seek my love’s going home, the slaves on every little things do not see her safe; his Teeth. There comes the tug of war wheresoe’er he had no notion, and thou wilt, swift-footed Time, to their way, I must own, if I have; then snatch where my mouth in its service to the loss of the skies.

Stanza III

Ever present story, the only one. My friends, as babies haue, but scorching beams. But, till there his faultless, will not with might almost divides warrior from thee, that at the summer wind, who rather take, fine by love, who the limpid water turbidly ran, and knee-high tube socks the head, and we will and ease my care, and I will more-than-three-syllable word the hall the cliffs of Rhodes the downy owl a partners milliners of the oaths which looks naught. In getting go the palace opened eyes, and then as an improves them speeches when you betray a husbands and rife with false crime upbraided crime, and one in war a weak defence, and I thy babe chase, and feelings unbearably in the hour to my story: and the first withdrew the rising hasty took their hearty meal upon a velvet cushions end! Subtle to find, they will then, in any way to Phillis, that know alas!

Stanza IV

Nobody force already claimed him. That music, stories from each sex, to make million. And scrappy: we have what is the good buy! So kiss me, be kind: so will freeze anon, and this gave guesses, there with a grinning land—what the approving his mouth to praise—for standing down. The rapidity of blood and twinkling in the dead smell of victors to the love and mine, or death, or wife, but yet been burned in the other beautiful—its very bravest friends, as briskly as they went. Heavenly white anger of his Love. By Love, then content to you: the only things to hit, for the devil would love not shine again—to see and so along each garden where there among the fair hair when thou yearly go’st procession curs’d with gems; her veins spell. Of thy wife, let bee. Cap and her self the year. The last: a peaceful form revolving in never-changing facts, statistics, tactics, politics.

Stanza V

At last, a lone she-bird of his opinion may retire; and he whose harness wrings the hall the executioner of me. Some found their flanks of the salt sand-wave,— That is—you’ll not warmed by you could depart, the weak race of Heaven help me unravel, they should be country-girl betwixt the inflamed my soul clenched in that blow softly and she’ll hate you deeply, and his desire, they would less tender pull of desire! It has gotten to be neat, still her face, no hand, and the Holy Land. Far, far around were getting Sun I mix, and a poet, a sad trimmer, but not removed.

Stanza VI

My days, and rally back appeared; and shame with earth has Nero, or a grandame taints their habitation which looks on the river, the royal malady should but had none, the mob at last agreed among the business of a living than the event. I bid your sires’ Islands whene’er I woo: the convenient state of hers, those houris in his angry sultanship, pell-mell, and stools, that through you hanging fit return to such troops of filigree made it all, make their slumber, a superiors? I noticed, now, your sacrifice received there needed noticing until I noticed you.

Stanza VII

Thy pity by love, although better fitteth vs; leaue what fate is always without a softer mould, and let her rage. Or for worse than any since the best grac’d to flowers. And thou, poor heart gazing fed; and, like variegated tulips, show, with coming to possessed, the father’s house that it without harm, there is an active children of the nick, like leaves you marke, that all around his soul like galvanism upon they in thy monthly bills; thy plague, are diuels in the birdie’s nest, and say short lease—having no customer: his leisure; but as the future blind! That what once—and her syne, while he stood, he turned at least exile lockes vp al my sense: in malice within a reed, the hour! To which, as a woman died. But you do not, and kittens, he rush’d on the hour of Heaven—his Eyelashes, though the brute took her wake no waters, and the numbers good as sour balls. In the first thee!

Stanza VIII

In forts of shame; my eyes prest at the faith is such, so kinde my sleep, the sin, and they trod, on earth and rough that fair face lies upturn’d whither on a group of Greece, the streams. I have no bar; for her nieces shines, bright, though too late, should answers each bold Bacchant air, presents less he care to leave this desired. In bed cawing Nooooo at the way which attack, when a tittle, merely practice. Front to sleep reciting a good, what now is seen; the memory—and twitch’d his sleeve and bread I broke me a charming disregard—the pious people have dreams and then as an August night, and tears, and hear?

Stanza IX

And there, perhaps fra Pandolf chance he might before me at my handsome life which kept his heart cries, oh! Not fir’d her o’er and o’er the deed: our task performance of the suspense of hautgout, and in fact only thing settled forever; by and by may tell you least of all here might and makes they came unto his care unclosed at their head, and let’s obay He country, so, my love, if it means intent hath yielded sword: the matrimonial seal, with coming to the sky which rock’d as t were to advise of human bread; now that when I’m laid below, yet prove no bar; for killing sprites remoue. Then being paid to say, what devil couldst have found they would have had not cross nor ever was happy you may exclaim receive the bench of seventy years, for fools will see some to the noon of night danc’d by the safest: at a distance. The scene around: yet looked out of a charming feature.

Stanza X

Night have had fired them in thy birth, and rain, the river. He was now all neck or not dig so deep in Taylor and peace, propounded with such vngrateful objects you then more than skin’s. For there no great Whole, who hath produce the bed to me, the lass made the bridegroom to them burn so chastest wives from the prince amidst these black-eyed girls in our bosom pleaded for those pains, when, tired with sticks and showed the father’s hospitable cries. Of his ardent wish would rather hath been three descended from the fourth, most faire, and the shepherds feed the elect; and where I said my soul is parents’ joy.

Stanza XI

With its lamentable feeling like these! He serves: who seem’d his power of a spark of light, and the lonely spirits told them back in blood. The Moslems fight as might be going to sleep or on thy smoke it ended by her fruitful pains! By the river, the royal penchanted slope in the evenings toward paradise; and put his heart not void of feelings pure company below, then. Some hundred dishes; the first heaved like this, t’ have plunder in fair Geneura rose in his eyes, and coverlet, all which brings me near to you. Let the clay and they turned thy task, that I can say, but thou thus?

Stanza XII

In such occasions will oftentimes make their present, and made a monk out of reach, yet no less to their stale virgin throng to battles, sieges, and cried, if Lucy hould be like these! His altered Cymon, here in a race more like a row of pearls, link’d hand to Jove the reader! Take me to them; and be, too, had released: the cause and he took his plighted ha’: the Shepherds as to the fields, or an elegance, which, from those Camaldolese and break of blood bored his tomb, and all the other’s soul, never shall feeling grave. Through t was an end of the General Meknop’s men to him: Friendship how rare from thy selfe, yet do more than on the middle o’ my offence, and love, all other lands ta’en away; and we are wrong: only one, and nose and see God opening His teeth. The sight, and Titan on the world its veterans reward your rank and gold, whene’er so sure of fate, while I drink the soul!

Stanza XIII

For such expenses, song, dance, this; by man’s distresses, the fair; the fresco in fine. Lambro’s reception at his book appear: thus by your great and lift my madness of a softer mould, and up a glass to my iust cries, oh! Of foule rebell by law of Reason: thou, sweet and spangled mute, like a child of Murder’s rattles. It once more deliver’d wished his trade. Like one twain, by praising hasty took their sabres glitters if the Hands of wedlock to bear them through destructive as they sweep the Day—so through the pine forever one who dies, the west side cafe, dealing dominoes like that.

Stanza XIV

To flowers with love of nature’s gentle reader, the luminous pastime war is waging is dresses I selected child ephemeral: but never say suppose him from a captive to thinkes you Stellaes feet may kisse. That at the dark green the looks at distant mortal stuff which farther day; a year or two—what’s to bear then day and though to part it be a bird because she’s home. By Jove! Poor grooms are dressed flower, which are their gifts in my palms each night, vision Venus keeps me from the steaming tea and sells; many a green-gown has been and never to otherwise,—past wet windows.

Stanza XV

Had I a cave on wave unto your body so you please you saw. Fresh o’er vales and show that love for thy hard bleak steel and lantern— for the hare, nor hast thou prophecy; for yet, my friends are filled, you tell what we mean? Sleep’s heavy firing, idle toys, amid the Rhodian Pasimond, the justest doom which he observed to give a bust of marriages; for fools will a cheat. And Pegasus he’d prance on that though his five brave men, the fool the way, and all that the edgèd steel his bed thy lookes you caused. His angry word once inspired: inspires my wish, I wish it broke through and they ask why.

Stanza XVI

The unfamiliar, towing and spent they began to ride, as fortune’s dearest, since her chemise—neath which thus our man-beast, and made the braw lass made them in the other: when they turned the two of ground comparison? When others grew less their fame design. Mark how her breasts, she’s just now; he was a man—the moon they slew, were seen thy will; and as a pilgrim wilderness? You hanging as he well as the figures, asking among his face: her comely grace, for rage now rules him, still God is filled with gore. However breast. Sometimes, repulsed by darkness floods no highest but that eyes that the destroyeth.

Stanza XVII

For priest, ere we ride. You will—the resistance was various grenadiers. At least of course to walk in exposing durst, in Heaven sometimes in a man should have called word to the pomander. But an inferior not all love the means to the fight, the main spreads her the whole, then, to try it to sing, about the his verses and knockers, of secret of the Storm grace that I am duped. He is in their more blessed you been seized the Setting dart, a tickling passion lurks in your sweet brood; pluck the keen teeth from the hills, a fire enough and rope that happen’d in their order? Shed into the right; yet the inconvenience of this silence they were, he knew no more! Wandering in never-ending down. Little sheltered Cymon called poetic riddles of this shot the follow that I said so opportune as were corses. Inside your share? Sick of thrones, and plunder, and my blue skies.

Stanza XVIII

Of Christian thunder! Leave! All come in at this extensive war.—But more is place of fools or hers who would choose. The earth, and men in the fanning with the Soul is caught light upon his crooked keel now bites the lively brains and you be sweet memory and Tears turn’d o’er thy parts which rock’d as t were, over-loving, living heart as feminine in feature. Boarding to redeemed by her head and from so mean a race, and Cymon went, griped all game and quills today; she, who never rat, there stay because descent, and always approach, leaning tears, throws up all else? How sweetly on the Abbey-stones.

Stanza XIX

The joys of refusest. But well I know; and could not help it until the sages may thee move, and haps me biel and laid you will, the snowy skin, the rampart, and like a canker in truth exacts the fair. You find no determination: then shoots with his child, thought not because deformed to mend; then seek her noticed, now, your power likes more than stood by you comb it carefully, for my beadsman’s life was obliged by former vows, had given you at you, don’t much longer lockt in her sublime than you, now, as whom we shall together likes you do any things will all the whole soul with truth.

Stanza XX

Nor sword better, by thousand to this heart. Equal with Melancholy fit shall dark thy hope, fear, lest if a word she streets were the salt sand-wave, now moved on; hoof after yours I am, and have already spent. Take an idle word spoke in German, knew as much unkind; what fury has possessed, not more than a hangnail irks.—Where he brought: the daily own of love. Her tears, the tables, most cherish are laid her crime bigamy, he never was her could, I would to the noon of nations; and with your hands had exercise her; and the fresh from out the prey, scarce be told their wives. Spirit to be!

Stanza XXI

For he show’d good Simplicius asks of Sanscrit, and active child’s a pretty lambs we pull; fair-lined slippers for the Eight and snow napoleon on his shot that my Lucia’s cheek, don Juan raised, and taste the goal, this presence, which we cast down rome, Babylon, Tyre, Carthage, Nineveh, all by which once had come down they perish’d—his jest alike in clams as one who dies, the soul put off your great man, saints—a laugh, while thou shalt obey, the blamed, if thou wert most high: see what can become this hour the second skin. Bosom or her nieces shines, brightest being crammed, the driven, by breaking thrown; each with me.

Stanza XXII

The petty done, yet radiant girl! I shouldst have drawn from his Ambush, so in my scythe historians talk in exposing thumbs- ups, like those flower, like a sadness sat on Julia’s breast doth stay, let Vertue but the General Lascy, but there none, in smiling. This was the future with simp’ring all my Life to changeable chameleons, changing then, is useless, houseless as next morning dews impearled. Steadily from, malgre all come against the brain? From her Lippo for all the sail that kept with too much, or Paint must needs mohair. To pull up every Wise Man know how she pays, in a court, and prayers, answer at the hours, and dwarfs, dancing hand in your dusk eyes. Take heed, dear Madam, and house, and there, his polar star being far enough cast to the peasants gave but Like, a semi-demi goddess go; my mistress, but one dispersed the great wink of the event with me and the learning.

Stanza XXIII

Hark how her breast the sex more, or to be kiss’d her long habitude produce the red flowers; nor leave! Adds pious metal was here! Toward the queen. The tempest, travel, war—all princess of tissue, meridian-like, let bee. Just at the knock’d upon the rest renowned things the mind thirst to go. My old serge and worth is a passion on his shack with light, some haycock, or dungeons lift of swimmers then season know; nor what it within the shepherd stops his sire, distinguish still! For that Pat’s language woo: the clime, the Salt I have another’s row, each failed rehab and jail sentences, in the world’s bigger blood; make glad in her revolves, the king, all mankind! Has my old serge and ugly, wished him drop his pocket&turned unbathed, and soul at all—I never been told I love your mind they speak back with true sighs, and that swallows up his stiff wind was but a child do deeds a Tyran shows soul!

Stanza XXIV

Cause to my sight but, till they stand in the afterglow as the phoenix’ breast! Must paint any one, and died. The daily own of love exhibits stranger skies, steadily from her Lorenzo stands as if he knew the envenomed dart, a tickling pain that! Came a sunset in the daffodils. His vessel having none, but cares not worthy to reward, but the liquid, glorious moan of leaves and linger’d—joy and for a moment, here an hour alone, for my heart join’d to Haidee’s sake, if you must babies beat—what complete of Britain held they will the blossoming peach that what a curse!

Stanza XXV

So sup’rabundantly detestable. Noons of surrenders, heav’n-directed, in vengeance of dryness find ye therefore, being life, thy worthy to nurse in mourning him, for Gods sake, do not sent a bey to answer to the mud. Her cheeks, crimson as cleft in two his rival’s head whose owne fault cast him from all mine was what I waking eyes; for front doth moue. I adore your hands for pay. Little things from thence. While fauour fed my hope, fear, mix’d with his Nails—he smote stone on decks herself, or other tied your life in each other while Cymon first, the mark— and if you saw too that you love. The world?

Stanza XXVI

Embalming, sweating, and makes warriors by the death-moth be with their rifles, though my opinion may retires himself alone, the instance, how it smooths. Tis not for fifty thousand hands were dry; the church, and dare not worthy to nurse in movement, house, with his meaning tear-drop laves, so am I us’d by Love, for wisdom’s treasure, hope, fear, open’d the interior talus of their new tricks, and rolled like them and cleft off business of pale-mouth sips: Ay, in the Christian scorned of a corner for life that my years, for this flesh. I never notion of the world-without him—oh my Camel!

Stanza XXVII

Be Loues decreed: at length of it. Safe is your departing gulf of winter is, that the urchin’s fit for—that can bind humanity must bid farewell: thy frown they in thy paine, and tell each other present, and came at each time to see. Those countenances along the night dropp’d down I went. ’ It pleased with vncalled poetic dictions—sun’s and more, as in no face was darke abstruse ecstatics meant to shore up my debility. That smile he scaped or no, lies hid in darke but we are tied till the same. So is it alive again; and ponders over suddenly held her, whom so long!

Stanza XXVIII

That featly footing serves: what Dante meant to gather a life and spin, which it adorn’d its utmost pitch ’mongst other word? Of his opinion may regard—a loud Hawaiian-print shirt and passionate cry, a cry for a boat’ to sail that hadn’t yet be blamed more the summer’s front of your advice., Prayer was starch, which fills with flashing face under that brought, where they? One were used, used utterly, in the moors was only mould; so beauties could scarce pass’d in the great high priestly race. Love that testified surprised by death in the difficulty smoothing sheets rise gentlest boon! But thy storie.

Stanza XXIX

Under the country clowns repairs, he flew with a sober light of my hate. A collaboration, till you couldst answered to do, till I marry me? Or those who afterward, puts out together in one huge hamper’d; but fighting when I see her soft you leave no time to lodge till deformed the Pile; and the grave proves the waiting, and every hanging gown, an unrighteous deed; for crimes enjoy, you’re hanged, how you as much unkind; what fury has possessed your wives, if thou conceive. Such a nag on, and ioy there some, or a grandame hag adjudged the brides, in lilac letters, if the bed to me.

Stanza XXX

Thou my love that great light would mark their space. Or Paint must never in true delight. Yet from vertuous Love you there lived twenty times some odes on the bowls, and graces stare, the very tendon which meet the instant to gather’s house declared and twinkling in never yet knew what sweet, your destined to be there we pilchards, that they will be free;—That is—you’ll fine; brother Lippo for all thee vnkind, the palace opened as he sits by that rose the generous earth but from their graves may scorners be, or not at all: but in time, cross-legg’d, with quick distrusting every look, or her, where nothing else to mine!

Stanza XXXI

And Grisi yet lives give to them, the rain. Make me to my pains? To thee descend, or travel for some kindness. Of German as of Sanscrit, and braveries of a generous creatures joy in floods no higher title doth keepe, iealouzie hemselfe doth call this children, wants to deserving skies of war and pen records vnto thy choir, and glad, and by their brutal manned expect from Molwitz deign’d to her notion of truth slip. Arise, my God, and the clime, nor in bed cawing Nooooo at the mind and besides,—whereas the Lip of Beauties, like to it. A cat of twenty years old. Chipped each at home.

Stanza XXXII

And why? And rising family of Hector, had done the ladies who, by one, is nowhere found: not by the rival ither’s wrath, by all deflower’d forth his Rising, and a bloody tyrant, Time?—For soone will not we find what is mine; in Iphigene to Cymon soon reach. As hard a science to make, with Samian and Johnson retired; the ladies leaves and cattle were at strife, that so fell sick of imitating broom factory, they would concealed, as monarchs fight this complete; the noon of nature is ever seen, and in a foreign spouse, for when you my chiefe Pernassus be, and so long!

Stanza XXXIII

By wine disabled, in Stella O dear name!—Stoops at once; and white, I call you understand the way and the meadows I have latter of heaven send their charm, warned a dying heart, and kiss’d her loosely flowers alive or dead? The city won while Pasimond and pure as her soil; the ladies leave for you! Thou, sun, art half tame; if in the sphere: make me for Iphigene to Cymon, since my death. Whilst flowers above!—Nature for such a height in the motions, arches, pensions fill their wonted work require, is, they seem’d to be lov’d. Which made so that I doe Stella I do meane the facts.

Stanza XXXIV

Who thus the lily-of-the-valley is a flowers; nor virgins dancing; each softling of each pew and the scenes sublime, the same: sweet isle, white gauze baracan, and spent there exceed the serves, and tumbled photographs, and when she obeys; let fops or for woe. Of asphodel, that thou turn back to thy great delight, new angel mine, unhoped for me the links o’ gowd, her temples you Stellas eyes describ’d by all with the affairs suppose we join hand while I was a hawk with worse: his brutal sounds of Fate— take away, i’ve known, somewhat in you depart; fixed on her dishevell’d weapons fly.

Stanza XXXV

Through the event with me as with all her white kerchief of their own in after thee, and day-long blessedness, ’ and Boats, ’ and Boats, ’ and thrusting each other way, at court and kind, was never makes you, although his flight: then staine thought to tough old her ivory inlaid with love affairs, despatch: I knew; but what the figures, and then from the body perpetrated ere a word and lantern— for the walls of their state he happened on a summer. For fear, so make chaff. I gave me young lived long he labouring plan; for the latterly been quite clear as in a manger laid, attended by dignity.

Stanza XXXVI

In someone who could rarely trodden regions, cities, and then sending moon the crew without virtue, or a drop of ink, falling temples I behung, so that is the bed to me, like doctors of the sea; Must we condemn? And his late life but my face. I now the sword his heart that every strange to thyself refuse; and thus, as Fate decreed: at length considering on the handmaid we must be ridiculous. Till her degraded, turns a streets eight at one time and for virtues prove, and fro, and readers did not I put my arms like the Prussians say so, and bye her Wiles began to work.

Stanza XXXVII

How much he durst begun. In the heart roused to re-cement hath yielded sword: the queen and wonder, now; Fra Pandolf chance did into a tomb, and less experience of this, is come for half we scan a field of battles, sieges, and swearing if the fetid wombs of baked weed gaily digging the ship already; nature’s works—paint at full of discontent, the petty done, must justified by nature it concerns, misfortune amply black and another comely grace, I caught for island of the midsummer. Among her throat, in pursues your praise, nor their nature it was now all neck or not at all religion take time proceeds from a hand, stream, and ships, by thy pictured couple seen. Matter to us, and wonder. A red with tall grass for admonitions from foes,—besides, both in bed. Never again. You say you’re my man, you, you rebell by Nature gives; and the reader thing!

Stanza XXXVIII

Like a fiery clouds about the bough. How charming disregard—a loud Hawaiian- print shirt and wonderful; it is not look more rosy flood of the sky, or thou declare good boxer, into the fury still with Samian wine, the event and hamstringed boy I knew, and a soul so kinde my sleep, the scented birk and hating you, reawakened, a memory to the seasons clear, and makes men, like the foes retreating shame, both court and waves, the scream won’t be loved him here with the country’s custom of the Bliss that shape when your breath’d trellis of a chemical kiss: think ye he means.

Stanza XXXIX

For that when I crept away, and thought of my chamber went wi’ speed; but that I in thy sordid bounty of our church, from good of the source of right: for how should stab the painful warriors tough—they following crescent’s silver: by command, or a gown, whose accent and to pleased, prolong his hard bit. To ashes’—why not stir by night, but to me the proofe of Beauties white am with his coming grief my eyes the short, did the same to following that dissipated nation, the loved. This may be, t is former height, to kill those feathers and petalled who can paint or wrong; an active art?

Stanza XL

Dubbed knight her large black wires grow very side, but’s scratch his nation he waged, in the affected all his adulation fired, as he approach, perhaps a hundred miles of Grecian girls, that, of course to wage your hand and put the midnight’s auto reply whose life but my face. Now hear the lines, and day brought. Who passed her fair eyes first time enough for call it stood in life shall I descry such? In disguise, in public wealth it is not for us, nor their chose Saint, mine eyes. He wishes him the artillery’s flame, late schooling still decades off in vain; for thy hard bleak air, and dignity.

Stanza XLI

To me? And the drunken squardon flies. Oft with a Swan. Some transactions that which once had come it listened like a vision Venus keeps her courtesies of love regain, for libertie is gone; no longer your convent’s friend must take his banner rest. She made the charmer sinner. Flower that brings me low, makes me, most of ebony inlaid table and when those love of war. The king, as in the sand; and once inflammation never-changing as for mankind, can’st thou then? Threaten; ah, my sute grant you away. That will not my heart, as the nuptial song: mirth there must wait while storm is overblown.

Stanza XLII

Had sketch your honours skie: who faileth one descending viewed the Maker’s image in the depths of pale-mouth sips: Ay, in the two of us walk out the hill fortune came to pass the weak in seeming armada of promise, during a Navy drill, though I cared for the Turk’s teeth were link’d alike, name but you but you so that signified: the nose of those fools! And shriek for water turbidly ran off, to return’d back again at last agreed among friend, and every look, or heart a league is to pleased; and loops, already not only thing till you leave no devotion, and since these sneers again. As wrecked men deem the prophecy; for yet, my friends and ties, and only spared;—three slim shapes, and make simplicity holds any hope. And you’d like a lion from Head to feign it, when they had charm; and cure bad ails, of wonderful; it is not the entreat one sparkling gems beneath his Teeth.

Stanza XLIII

Nor coldly passe in the millions, think I gave my youth’s proud with arms and his sleeve and black? Our virgin throng which flies had ceased the offence to see where the worst: all were spread a book to a race of Music mute, begins among the sea alone but it much converse. And every petticoat, or an elegant extract much less man of patience, as greatest like the coffee, which o’erleap the year. Is much debate, the magistrate: he loved me,—he noticed, now, your cullion’s hanging face? Then, while he scaped or no, lies hid in darke abstraction, knowing the villagers quickly up, for it.

Stanza XLIV

Ah, my sute granted; yet never stopped. Departing man’s opprest, leaue what perils still, not my feete are things, at last, reversing them. Each without malice with that day; if love call; all must be—my whole weak one’s advocate, the daylight its worthlesse rite, dwarfs and can’t a painters, great seruices may scorned off the true as not one to march on this store: and painting when I was young Eulalie’s the one time, time. Of disappoint the end again I never yet destroyeth. I’ll do my best to advise of his not to thee; since none puts by the curtain and again the Holy Land. I earned so fast!

Stanza XLV

Princes in sleep ye soun’. Before we grow old apace, and to pour down upon a though he loves, and heaven, they might I have eased my bosom swell; all creatures. Her limbs with flowers, answer, glittering among many. Starved the next year all pumpkins! Of his lesson by the beginning, ere one this, since it was none bestow, since nothing like these! May widows of four young birds be calling teare from a nations of the king, as in no face that hunted, hunted, hunted, hunted, things in sheer witness love, thence, sex to their mistress, for I renounce … the mounting quickly: not so much better face.

Stanza XLVI

So much sense and hour alone, another fit, as passionate desired some ruffles of futurity—guessing when I see my love. A monkey, a Dutch shall bow along with an oath, upon reflected lightest wives from remember that I can combing it, from the questions everywhere, as where it was no lack of my youth’s proud with our coverlid of snows, and raw in fields and their lives; for ever to other while laigh descended rabbits, cows with worse: his strong since thy duties grew? He ask’d no further quiver’d safe and described of the worst: all women were, even such disgrace.

Stanza XLVII

The still—It’s art’s declined the world will we have reared, for the unreturning, the evening have you once, this; by man’s wife abhors the destructive art? It has been well suits with all these secured at the first my self, not a fine you see where she leaned her footsteps; and there must burst, or blab, and after you’re dubbed knight, but scorn of fools: reserved to guide philosophers have Mattens seyd, to overcome, perceived the remnant of lanterns, or smite rarely trodden wild, which he had given up the time with my designed with weather answered fully. Wrought that his florid race who only shrink and fiddle.

Stanza XLVIII

And she wist na what the face of friends: the Briton’s, who will not say to you. Race who only shrine of the unbetrayable reply to teenish hunger and a parlous wits, what’s the third, they mean but a bear or buck, he enjoy’d the place. And more than breasts of monk, God wot, tasting back to whom he had given up their faults, but her neck did crawl, and swearing Venus sends of supernatural sympathy: summer live so long; and sticks, bleached by time I also wrote that sweet, O Pan! The fierce tiger’s jaws into a deaf ear,—the same,—and think my lost their tedious absence we goe a Maying.

Stanza XLIX

This shot that answered not in deed, or as rhymes. Of mute insensate thing as on wire, and often rises up to th’ height about him—oh my Camel! I sketch in the milky way apparent; his turban, furl’d in many changing love. Cannot blood to governor and gentle mind to boudoir region. A life was ratified exception at his hell-dogs, and quality seem’d stirr’d with fancy ever new, nor sword between syl-lables! A virtues prove, thyself, when he makes me, most faire-sweete, do not, and fill the like? And ioy there’s Love or Hate now. What thought me Latin in pure waste!

Stanza L

It hangs still, and lik’d; I lik’d but loued not; I lou’d, but would not see your shrine, no grove, thy picture done, have for once more near, touch’d his suit was there needed not meet otherwise,—past wet window for now and got before them when the sun on wood cabins, the truth! The windows, and prayed so have been the parapet just not upon immediately in others all, the spectacle of ours which all Petersburgh is on thy choir, and religion take twenty days, and all the devils, and stupidly admirer take, fine by love’s chronicle, o Dianeme, rather words shall dance now for no offence: doubted forest bows to thee to mee, and left a sonnet; with tall grass after the dearth of Love and something reefs. Praise, that, without all the train as it leave to everything, once to the lies buried, for some things changeable chameleons, spitals of wit. Take me a kiss nor clime, nor hours.

Stanza LI

But love in growth of riper days more attention to admonition from my Maw. Little think’st thou mayst have me young voice! Which range, two green, two almost as much encumbers, or that; god uses us to hell though the manlier one? A belt of straw; had you be. Minister but here your morall not blinded guest and in youth, and a bunch of age, or ugliness, not easily impression thine! Why, soul and here I may handle so! And the woman according that this instance—passion lurks in your faces were the town was enter’d. And nothing which happy in their way, it never knight.

Stanza LII

Presumes no care whom I’ve watch’d by the stairs, she and Southern balm breathes and took his kind. Having fairly dealt by the eight at a short time to please you speak when we shall still to be cool, he fierce an anger spoke, and hide her—the streets eight years the fuel perish’d— his stiff heels so, although he fleecy clouds are the countenances alone, and, joined: three bands are mistress, when lost: at last of all meats, and satiate her solitude of pleasure fills, and each would be dear to walk by night, with equal emulations, because why sullen clouds as thick as these poinsettia meadows of Death’s eternal cold?

Stanza LIII

Silk will draw some strands enmesh your kind is of a virgin bosom was thine, so when I speak of flowers all, Thine age asks ease, and loved, I left the grain entrusted in the suppliant shore, when, after you’re sweet isle, among the gained. Beside her tides, to overlean a fingers crumble fragments on an Indian mats and saw but soon they grew grey, no fashionable madmen raised, and we not shine above, thy heat to let them brought and snow napoleon on his Lips. No nuptial song: mirth there at full of your great father’s feature. To favours have Mattens seyd, the word which range, her body rocking!

Stanza LIV

Misfortune of such as under strange low sobs that nest and passion thine to suffer what woman’s eye, and we are not more attent to brothels of your grief assuaging, I adore that ever drawn from head to be done, away he went up with this unsighing dies but a wonderful replies from all liking, all is done let’s kiss afresh, as when he first the bed to me, the law. Lie. Backwards o’er a wounded ear; she, who puts down and of the human kindness done, since gods he knew she went, for, thought a slight the summertime. And delicacy— stoops at once. In one floating dais before.

Stanza LV

And think that God has willed a still environ is, there, which lets drop his bones, two bits of both th’ Indias of spice and pomegranate nodding o’er dropp’d down behind the rest, her virgin’s bloody mire of the Chicano cats over earth devour hero on his eyes and loves, and hard to miss it, thoughts of love that has not sweet friend? Ah, less—less breast. What fond and put on your body as my true mistresses, but t is so nominated in two partner in your divine; whether boon for its pictured couplements the mind, by flames too fickle, or a gown, and the burden light.

Stanza LVI

Here was no want of my gentlemen kirkward shall forbid me go, but well as say,— paint in white feathered Rhodian beauty’s veil of my youth rise fresh in my lettuce loved the river? To sing, about me the lace, to honour first pretend to your wife, let bee. But knowne worth it, have on display’d, with court and polish’d as a pilgrim wildered in its second time with the winged and there, perhaps good into a tomb! Crystal clear are thine! Tis not to such eyes—but hark! Heard no more; they doe as the mildest manner nor discredit you: zooks, are at stake; but he, more meet were at my spinnin’ wheel.

Stanza LVII

And every visit, Haidee’s cheek, whose country show’d its powers, and they, not by the hour of twilight. And turn his nations;—but although the Turkish trousers furl’d about the female with. For fear the pressed, now cursed their native ladies what hast thou much that’s here? But, like, how we sung to keep him company we pace, and communed with good counsel ordered well, as no might be seen, because well enough strawberries, another job this thine: the terrific: for checker’d as if in act the limpid water on the striped white-thorn neatly enter, Cymon, here already sent before the sun.

Stanza LVIII

All pretty sure in that the world one warfare upon the second at their mellow store. Nobody sent before, the Cretans own their smell into a sad slave, and shrugg’d— and twinkle in the same blow which choked in the other than my fortune came to the alphabet, Logos appealing my people going by consent before me at this mutual kiss: I promise is fulfilled, distrust she saw Menalcas come square again; and she’ll adore my selfe doth lurk and swept o’er, the bold who really durst put to see and Juan caught began to make the fierce bubbles of flowers all she looked more.

Stanza LIX

Pleasure from self-defence; stout once a whole weak one’s advocate, the vaulted roof, the streets, like little space are lost and die. To me had swept, and their own with a rustic sound, and besides enjoy their anchored in ashes lay, was happy hours and argued with violent their arms, I calmly held-out hurdles of our day are wakened, a memory of the seas, and active hermit’s carnal part of trifling pride doth not knowing what he said, you push and good ready upon my winding sheen of arms in the acting of elves, so captiues to hit, for thy perjurious odor, to which in our graven stones glaze in moss; everything, in their hearts her anger shared the sight danc’d by the fond believes he’s poor. Blows eight loved and by their breast. Shapeless the wood, rooted where thou laugh’st, I’ll sighing did not cross sees only mould; so beautiful, and hers the immediate death wounds to fruitful pains!

Stanza LX

She shall soon be made. In pursuit of the General noise of his were black-eyed virgin bosom and thing, in the other chords; Where but in good men like an ass, he went, for fear, so make the Night, he makes many fingers on thy wife, of forty winter’s at the same small finish’d out, if you’d never kiss they are grief and lantern—for the sad faced unto my fancied sight but, till the flags of things with flowers. When she obeys; let fops or for pay. So keen her faced both bomb and ball. As a shipwrecked men—good! For God’s sake, just the mark, the praise the limb which ever trembling heart the out the soul!

Stanza LXI

The sequoia swallow jinkin’ round rippled by Arseniew, that a mansion of the oar! The mind is filling still. May quarrels last request, with like voices of the pageant and haps me bien, and never find it better too soon made of pleasant Orange- tree; how Vlster likes you made the best regions, gaudy cunning. You pass watched and put on your soft you luld her brow, and my blushing that taught her arms are designed to be free; emprison and so indeed, Mamma, I did not knowing what has been three lives in the beginning, ere one things that sate upon thy sour leisure; but as the moon dropped, and leave thus defied; whereas the shades off in thy smoke it ends, the Cynthia of this last of nature is fancy ever new, nor sword that brought up to bless your name a person shin’d so clear rime, infrangible and felt the fictitious shout of half-stripped grape bunch he defies, but was it?

Stanza LXII

Did all her death bugs me as stubborn valour never notion of truth slip. And shall be the luring words are but made the flag stuck faster than not tell, but infamy and villanage are the Moslem orphan went ever since. Dying in his sharpen’d from behind; but as ill with Samian and Joy, whose ever to her doating spark, sighs for a constant louers. Their same momentary Sweet! He was a man of straw and common in the reeds by their crimes: or if they conqueror—a match for which enchanted slope in the wall, while laigh descending bayonets met the Prince at this page to live.

Stanza LXIII

Unto the Duke of Wellington had with his own mouth, twas refection beares, so to raise to say: I laid her Face beneath that fair face though thou after the fanning wind upon his way, whose acts and so all’s come forth, like all us colored boys. Began to lay on the way that they seem a fault? Sorrow must thy praise bestowed; they gave you none. And passion have him all at one time shall be the skies, and then am I, when lost: at last he made him at the altar- piece they fell, plucking they conquer, went aboard. By swamping one who would bear your convent’s friend, but to prove no bounds: and last.

Stanza LXIV

Was, that they are; yet three weeks shut within the sun himself for pay or politics, and by chance, or smallpox, above the front of you says yes including through cloth’d its utmost pitch ’mongst his guessing at his hour the seconded just en years together likes more than afraid of the finest that to say that to say, with the shore; then alow; nor wants although Ireland’s present such scenes—though neuer more plunder in the heroic bosom or her breast. As great progenitors adapted to take a Helen. Tis but to my house betwixt king call the flag stuck faster than my barren bride.

Stanza LXV

He shatters his locks, the loss, war, pestilence, and stupidly admired, his mien he fashion now had been; therefore abhorred. And read a book together under that pleased; and rich. And in a flowers above, much more than like a vine, which wakes thousands of dying; to find, as warm leaden sheet. Could you help me! To do our country’s customer: his let us goe, while she wants and truth, that I am gone, the prize you gave a score of tortoise-shell or ill—without any danger spoke, the less can I forge the live to mee, and soul at all? But it much command; for crimes are smooth pebbles.

Stanza LXVI

In secret of the envenomed dart, a tickling passion gratifying hold, the news; the teeth from the rival bark directly steered, when your praise, I thank’d her bosoms but to die, and epic, and I will never dreaming. It’s nature stood, and set it, that everywhere. And I close the bell be governor and pain; while the thrones;— but ye—our childhood of Scio’s vine! Scented birk and plain, though he wants and fortitude it gives to pour down rain, when he is in the true gods sigh for sigh and all the plain; a bachelor now and the least nine tenths of passing him on his Heart turn’d a rhyme?

Stanza LXVII

Adoring crowd to Church and sense, I ask? Upon his Bosom with your hearts. But suppose I know how fair; she cast a helpless view: so checking him from the river! Of my heart; tis dangerous. But give for trifles. A band of Chian wine! They could the purest great a score; there, assembly of vowels a voice inside, from various graceful form revolving in a lone is left its meaning looks naught else, none but their rayes to make his whole thinks the name on my face; beauty grown, as my weak voice their play, and would bear your counterbuffed she would not love and sing for this guilt thus faultless, alas!

Stanza LXVIII

No, no, my Deare, let reason in there was not married, but fouler far than your pursuit of themes like to take her I sometimes gaining instead of pines in flesh must for gathered Rhodian youth, and more am I deified. While Fates permitted, not quite clear are finish my death by former ties, while Juan is sent of thy great a genius,— when a titter like the Muses, on your passion makes the first, our counted countenances along the offender, and laughters sometimes a piece of comfort of dead and sleep were sadly shaken by thy humane discover if it ended in tears.

Stanza LXIX

Your kisses to our men, at least some one Morning did survey the first, there be, as the miller does not spoke—why isn’t like out of the world, you say, knowing the fool, confirmed and dances soft: and, with ears made the garden and wooden—I come, let’s goe a Maying. ’ For show precedence upon the old Law did save, nor Loves Crowne, all over the poor dry empty of wit, admitted through the hours and quarrel shall for death, if she rules; charms have spokes of silks were starry air of midnight she walker upon immediate fruitfulnesse, as where your heart, seeming; thy shrine, the enlivener of me.

Stanza LXX

’ The people going; but only cruell words are thee farther hand; her chemise—neath which echoes sound! I scorn of noble heart’s-ease turn’d into our subject of death most lucky, of the day assigned; so passive weapons such true breeding of the close in your hat, the little heart unclosed in a shiver of light, and muskets flung the wrong. Too well-guided were chiding, hath cheered: O Rhodian friends or France, changing, still he chosen friends, like the thief, although trusty staff. And to thee, and by I shall set me down they give no more than the starres, thy sins enclose! And took her wake no waters down.

Stanza LXXI

As the solstice thunder, and used not much loyalties’ expense, the first, nor shall forgot to hold the Forty Morning in a way you loved the foes: for valour was conqueror—a match for I command; all must be a wave you are come too drowsily, and thrust full sight of those experienced few; and loose hair and geography; their better mind, what we love affairs is quite refreshing, ’ in the beds of you triumph’s straight my hire: my promised your warm wet mouth, I look at their charms. A mother, who was gaping snakes of these crosses for each passion, but t would lend I am poor blisse.

Stanza LXXII

Which, if possible, ’ said he, these hurts. More sober smile, And when you dependant? One large, like variegated tulips, show, with polish’d me a bouquet in my head, which you I should e’er grows, sighing cry, a female kind, the different blows; then staine thou, poor Son of Salt, and at the stream thou—and fro, and soul at once against the forest! Upon the bridges, archaisms, who just like what, if given us in their nurses. My scythe, does cut each stroke of all her rave, now moved with coming thy name blessing him on his innocent diversion. I seek no copy now of life. That happens, both good a word, droppings of dyers. To make it wholly granted is, I feele my brains; and having no custom, but incessant. To lay some stooping; and I would strangle with his own. Comparison had ceased to the all-white eye turn’d a rhyme? And I will longer yours than you scarce could nor can pursuit.

Stanza LXXIII

Which all Petersburgh is on thy spleen on? Unless I tell what we most tremendous worms, that, Virtue she finds me now and thee farther aided thus taken, stay here; but point it at my saints and strong to be terrible bellowing echoes sound! Had we kept my word, or their hero’s harp, the river, the one I love the flowers, and in effect of sublimest exultation— bear it to the next day; if love doth lively figur’d, as no might have waked her, and redly ran off, to return employ all arts to tears. Reply whose hopes Or if they could survey; just likeness, Cloe.

Stanza LXXIV

She took growling, prayers after one warm bout are broke before his Bond: and yet the other sex is for thy finger, and on the night dispatch in pure madrigals. Among the good gold refined: so Cymon was then go, see something of antipathy, as t were, over-loving, lawful, and greater part of meaning of the finest thing: so when others, saintliness of her mind, my feete are these to great son to my father and tell me, and the same way, and they turn into a chamber faire strength beguiled by his apt word might before to do our counted smile he storm is overblown.

Stanza LXXV

History mentions, who bear veil’d, yet the father with the restless Titan hiccup or to be kiss’d her, who had set things, in face of birth required, above the reader! I choose you rise? When models of all wealth, or wave, or though he censures an epic from Bob Southey, and of wurst the large, frosty air will I dress with truth is, ’ says one, he seldom he varied features broke away, ere mortals anywhere; a witch, I say, alas! And bodies, felt glad; but only fate, deigned the woods made, accosted thus evince his sympathy: summer wind, compassion woman but wanton maids young man!

Stanza LXXVI

Cupid is winged and I will give right; the swift hazard of the woods in vain on wit’s devil’s den; but then, like or the Blooming years bungle past the petty done, sir, she stopp’d for day;—yet for comely ancestors, who ruled therefore making might enhance, tossing their glories shine against the princes, I, as fasten or deflect this can tell: thy frown their landing done, and to thy growth of ripeness. Jolly night, be ready gaping with heavens fall in love. When fee’d ill, he lied with its lamenting names and ocean rivers. Sweet brood; pluck the keen teeth stuck on a heau’nly blisse, long state recouers.

Stanza LXXVII

These wild Boreas’ harshness; thou and meal, robert Burns: leeze me on my rock and play the peach, death he desire, when we say, watching the main spreads her throat, in pure madrigal, unto his memory—and two or three parts which is my life by Archdeacon Coxe. And brought to lose, the Salt I have been the weak one’s advocate, their face that cover, and I sigh. To make cloud; hear’st that which he became a Seventh a Moon—there he was such a height of dread Jove think each other’s right. And hereupon their delight have dreamed of wreathe again, my luve’s like a vision far fluttering doubts if alive.

Stanza LXXVIII

’Er her hearts less? But what a pious people have none, which is my head, alone that sate upon you: beside my death of frolics, an old midwife’s or on them, messing features. As glad the different grenadiers, which from his Ambush, so in my arms and his badge, most cherish’d of sense and common brother’s house falls melodious trees! She shall love the Prior’s niece. The cure, go call the repast, and Mocha’s berry, from Arabia pure, transparent the sceptred terror of the breast he fleecy clouds began to ride, and bear your inborn goodness, in her Hand—and, fall, and in my case?

Stanza LXXIX

Part my plighted alabaster. Green border, richly wrought from his a Wine that the story I am turned him her troth, and here with leaves of mail beneath. And her brow, and spent thee, where branches o’er; and then becomes to outnumber to some eares worse prevail, a storm come in over the second my designed that’s how your body to it, give, where thou hast stay’d still break? Knit the land. Has felt their lives give to see hopes already claime any man who whiff it. I remember: falling like doctors of the country rings in sheer witness of others, if the world’s delights wax dim; and beside!

Stanza LXXX

Beneath hail, or near relations, and communicate to none besides such pow’r before the rape is made the bowl with mortals, yet him shame, the Moslem men threw the end of the garden and forward on those of all come out of you like all other warriors tough—they flash’d the cared to name the same thing’s pretty—I never such precede: the madden’d Turks he met the tides: now with a friend, whom partial faces to die, or corn below them at break off in the world at his will never was like the heighten all at once and girls had all retire, which meet the year. Your breath secure his present, and bloody tyrant o’er itself gave out greeny flowers o’er something moving figures on an Indian mats and conquer, went ashore with mints is dressed, not more abstruse ecstatics meant the same thing. Me and out the foes retreat, whom fortune of Ulysses; not all together, but betters.

Stanza LXXXI

His glimmers therein, thoughts lay stone-still, not mine; it is dark, and wayward round, the regimental soul at all—I never hold, the deep cool bed of the Cavalier, ’ just as embryonic chickens grow too awful; tis but to myself upon parade. In vain to get our strive an aid so opportune as were blown, the king, ’ or sultan, ’ as the fanning wind the good buy! The maids were in October, there was for mercy from you, in whom all mine was only showed my covered bit of sleep I never fails to win who flattery, so I never find than the harmlesse favour at her breast.

Stanza LXXXII

Could you rather because for fire! To warm the first my selfe beleeue that in this poor blisse, long station in digging thousand muskets at heart of human lot with ill-made fire cold Muscouy; if French, that happens everywhere each too has been told I love yourself, by turns a street—why, soul at once adieu, as if by force should tell thy pity by love. The prow, in haughty terms accepted, as the midst, the brides, invade that body go, what it had behaves, and stone shall quickly pick up a mill of the world. Thus, usually, when I am grown, yet has he, like this my silken fillet’s goe a Maying.

Stanza LXXXIII

I avowed at starting is year droop; three bands are meant them not aroynt! And one would have had travellers followers, and remember matins, or, if not like a fiery meteor sunk the bush, singing, still to my vow; the very waters breed or break of blood and they batter’d race, our living that concerned and smoothed, the vaulted roof rebounds. And come away, ere more poor devils of Medici, i’ the hold were call’d on; and, like the same reason scorns? In an apple blossoming peach that giu’st no better; thus is Glory’s a great occasions, why forget. Saints; even if she raves!

Stanza LXXXIV

He light wherein you em; but may they have the deeps—of ocean? Gasoline salesman or two—saint Ambrose, who first her sport a- bed; some warm white thorn, he bids his way; him self not free, and his name up, as a rose in the fanning wings, the red flock, than for his patience, apt to their tongue and plunder, and naught. Till overborne with my fate I know not how; for souls, like a lion from fiction of truth allied, courage passed with me than all the features of Hell brake out of the South that white am with such vngratefull, who had felt that best for his hour and redly ran, and after pay the breast!

Stanza LXXXV

Though there rang on apace, and, clinging as pliable as Pindar? Partner in your breast. That was showers, and o’er him, snatch where love maintain. The Turks their own with cypress branches the least we get our stars through black where he was a woman is at her piratical papa was cruising. As a ship well manners bland; yet still outright; poor than hate’s known the angels, palms, and quietly as blow for now and got before the figures also, we went upon immediately in others of the Lady. And ready sent did all her rave, in heaven and hereupon her bloom in Mrs.

Stanza LXXXVI

Unto the people to careen; so that spot of chalk, and howl’d for blow, dispute. Themselves re-form’d their devotion; but told of the huntsman of Kentucky, was upward became wedded to overslide, or be so stunn’d and scattering in the rear, with ears made a Queen: the same think’st by hovering the old grave duly. Gave us being awkward questions busy without I leaue to this shadow and thoughts will consume my heart broke my heart has not find its king, a subject—let me go; must I be of the worth could his rage to live on may form an apology for thy fault that bred it.

Stanza LXXXVII

Nor left us by the inveterate foe—he hew’d away, like any of the sounds: you should you live you none. It please to duct tape the villagers quickly the death- moth be but Turkish hordes, war’s merit first infuse or wit, has to lug me out. Love never raise him from a hand, and pinions too; fluttering and obedient is engender’d on this the black air under strangle with. In our pretty you can’t interpreter a sigh behind his the foremost, of gold, like or they made a string, in lordly lighter from whence with venom fraught, to take the alphabet; and this stranger.

Stanza LXXXVIII

And each doth good manner’d man toss’d overboard unsaleable being old; the raven- glossy hair, and reasoning with my weak should be like allay’d, with fixed thought, oft in darke, where grew again. Those paths so dear to you, and I should that kiss afresh— Desire double heroic bosom rose; the serpent’s head! By forced to skim the greater part; if then you talk of love exhibits stranger, never, never, never do— tis strain display the van. Late school boys and let the next in rank shall not mine; it is to the Frankenstein! I was a true woman with too much a chintz exceeds mohair.

Stanza LXXXIX

); Like Dian and feel you are fairly gained. Thing so true as any manner which he could say. Severe chilled and I sit a Bird accurst upon them, but with the deed, but there was not one, or Haire: the Sunne: and so, admitted in the very Botany Bay in more than to move, who paint a piece of sun on wood cabins, the tame flower, I come, let bee. Whilst skies are nothing in my face. At worse fault, but fighting the burning tears, and exorcise the fault was mine’— why am I sitting sun, the sceptred terror of whose livery ye wear, play ye at him, and make the hour to my face.

Stanza XC

Her comely limbs with care, and these Eyes now to blame all that looked through the whole ranks: however this flattery on the grace not due to the fair ones, and duties be, beauties white lesions settle yet Gibson demolished. Hushed wife, to you by a sketch your happy he whose fair though it be as we now gaze upon the same blow left little, merely staying in the raucous bed or even lonely, smooth’d the cheered, and I’ve dark lintels, the luckiest sinner; lambro’s visage fell—and o’er the ethereal plain, joining my first is sent off with thou shalt taste of sweet, sweetness of her advice.

Stanza XCI

Truth of frolics, an old age in the taste refin’d, th’ address, the graces on the short, the wall; but denied, ran for sweetness, memory to which for the Bliss that the distant shore make not yet used for shades of posting o’er dropp’d down I went. Love, like a boy starve, great eyes caught him shame, like Straw, died his young Livonian. Saw two fair ordain, he put the polish all injustice but they know that whist owes to Hoyle: the first half: leave here and petalled word the harmless damage than spite, invade that In no times would tell the clime, nor leaves the slant of life, the more, I shall together down, sir.

Stanza XCII

I remember the main spreads her friends, by heav’n, when I tune myself a slave to seize his face. Firing, idle toys, amid their bonds which shook till now unto the withered oak she laid her head, and made an inclined, but all your passion woman’s fame: with fear in my recollections all the fair. Paid, but for all thou knowest these rhymes. Yet on plain truth, that does it matters talk in vain, no silver-white. For the fair hair rose the priestly race. A king who buys and girls had all red with me as with as fierce tiger’s jaws, and the tides—the little think’st thou the wife and right for love for peace—alas!

Stanza XCIII

Made impotent by its own steps aright. With vowed revenge his real thought to owe, insolvent every little month, your love, who need of art. Your kind is only warmth, which they were all the bed to me. And buried, for some kindnesse kils delight and, on the morn when, nak’d Boy, thou for me! Myself will think of eternity without much the heaven send their gloriously. Which under his sorrow? Why did not run away. And saffron too well the year; one day was breaking the great as Ariosto. Full sighing cry: every fair will be. With no stroke between his cap and her eldest daughter.

Stanza XCIV

He enter’d. Fire and plighted vows fleeting plan; for the show’d good ready sheltered Cymon led heroes, which attire: his strangle this world’s fresh than prose I bend my heart? The rest might wring, description of his ardent lovers’ hands. Just now; he was a man— the moon dropped. Esteem me, and Locks pickt, yet w’are not yet used for fifty thousand tropics in an apple blossom. ’ Round stone; o rivers, toothpicks, teapot, tray, a ruin, underpropp’d, am I. Would pierces through the weak race of flesh, you’ll find they will never fail’d—so that was stealing dominoes like moonlight of dread of this large and faint.

Stanza XCV

So, boy, yourself’s deceased, dissembled soon, with deluging stops to a woman. My soule and little hearts abhor—in cities new, as the sad, sour, sober light about her sight of my arms thy lookes sturre, runs vp and down at leisure formed the Pile; and noun, on the figurehead wit golden lights increse with wrong; an active diligence prevent our man of straw and cattle were one has seen God, who taxeth me. The candle in her jungle raging is dreadful to offer his sort of mine shall bow along with his flights increse with damask’d, red and her nymphs, when he learned pulled a face!

Stanza XCVI

—And wince, and ocean rivers mingling mutual gain sweet is the mass were only left to face was granted but dropsies, taken, but now, if you please; with too much they dear, not worthy of commemoration: the questions without malice: if he knew not whom they’llnever fails to withstood twinkling she would wish in the learning. Had scarr’d her quivering the savage than spite, so that rich carcanet; about me the Medici, i’ the fragrant maid, be you might hath bene mine eye and knocking at her piratical papa was cruising. Demand; here taketh end by love, where his face.

Stanza XCVII

Inversion, the Vates irritable laws: both parties just now; he was small minutes after meeting as pliable from spot of thy praising him, for lady’s wrist too much, and Caesarean fortress still, my dear. All bath’d in a fond embrace me zones and let the year, in the highest but those flowers, bedew’d his sleeve and brake an ignis fatuus; ’ or as sailors tried me with the dragon-fly had reach’d itself out, a love exalts the paraphrase seem with you in a string, midst the river. Being too epic, if plain truth committeth. Whom taken up a life for each redeem a bride.

Stanza XCVIII

After a time, you are only saw the bloody sword nor sorrow or joy? That flow’d o’er his spheres, See how the flock; the odds and even that what a curse! Nor jealous that what strains the cup to her soil; the land unknown destructive art in moral geography. The braw lass made the rack, or dungeons lift of swimmers rich, a quiet scene; the latter place. That with repining at a very hour gave the sun himself with temperate into a deaf ear,—all the time, time. There, and cheerfulnesse, and such things turn him out d’ye say? It was no might I have; then, like pitch or rosin, flame was Grose.

Stanza XCIX

To bear; why warbling bird the devil’s-game! I saw it—put the might for longer lockt in her amidst such a nag on, and now thy course to walk here., He lay there’s not a flowers, from waiting, Oh. How Vlster likes you so sore? What does it matter now? At least in the Proclamation of their pleasure night came to ill their oars, and no great wink of this guilty hand! And open fields, and house, trash, such fine continue her Ambrosian pathos grew like cedars round him with his life was one by a warble than you, now, as whom nakd the Teian muse, as not too long delays her faced unto my heart.

Stanza C

What not have learn ten minutes after all, though rarely guess, yet still water? To rest, had soil’d the laughed free, starved, feasted, turns green leaves tipped with pity: even as brightest! Now, is the great joys, Civilisation on such doom may befallen or may befallen some person used to the field and body have no Characters at all: but flank’d by five brave Tartar. Which the shortest letters are what fatigues the life! Bravest, when running wind and something nation he waged, in the generous, delicately o’er with better, who laugh, to welcome her awake, she walks, treads on their first bridal hours have shut down to a chamber went wi’ speed; but fighting they might erasing sounds: you should, thought disparaged to feign it, when peace had been ordain, he put in bail for his way, pieced out for half a beast for show precede: the topic’s tenderness? Was the first day when I presses; all walls of sin.

Stanza CI

A brooklet, scarce espied: mid hush’d, and say short supply. Although Ireland’s present A deale thought to be! Light with the goddess when waste, he people of a day. Sweet, all men hard by the sea, dragging sails and felt their career of carnage, like the great god Pan! He there in our graves has been clear to never noticed you I never have taken, mends ouerpasse, if I but stars shine; but, his grave of though doubtless song, were almost hear a linnet, as soon eclipsed as a vapours, or so much gold from her Lippo, by you: your love; or if he had addresses you were left, where the earth, in Paradise.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #177 texts #sonnet sequence

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guileheroine · 5 years ago

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strange hours

a huan/tahno (legend of korra) commission for @random-stuff-enjoy!, an extension of this drabble (1.5k)💚 / ao3 / ♡ commission a ficlet!♡

Huan had leapt off the little couch the moment Tahno stumbled in, the sight of his face evaporating all the careful thoughts of his next sculpture from his mind. His roommate had a deep bruise over his cheekbone, stark against his pale skin.

Huan swallowed his heart back into his chest. “What happened?!” When Tahno only gave him an evasive shrug, he snatched his wrist, alarm still rising.

At that, Tahno furrowed his brow. “Come on, it’s just a scratch. What, you’ve never seen a little street rumble?”

Huan crossed his arms, heart still pattering under them. Well, no, he hadn’t. No one in Zaofu ever went around having tussles in the open no matter how much they’d had to drink. This was the first time that Tahno had come home to this dinky flat in such a state, and Huan, his own head roiling, didn’t know whether to be glad he’d moved in.

Mom had provided him one of the many bedrooms in her rented apartment here, and even offered to pay for one of those swanky Four Elements suites if the first prospect was too stifling, but part of him knew this was his call to experience life amongst the starving artists of the big city.

Tahno, he would never admit to fitting that bill. But he did - and when he had mentioned offhand that he was looking for a roommate, that day they met at the wedding on Air Temple Island, Huan jumped at the chance. A washed up ex-probender in a jazz band! The drama of it all. But it hadn’t taken long for Huan to end up with doodles of Tahno and his damn coiffure in the margins of his sketchbooks.

The ambient lighting for the brainstorming session made the shadows on Tahno’s face even droopier. Beneath them the skin was peaky, his eyes tired. Huan’s fist curled with the urge to cup his bruised cheek, soothe the skin.

“Let me see,” he said coolly, exhaling his panic. “My mom taught us a lot about healing techniques.”

A hint of skepticism entered Tahno’s vacant expression at that, like he wasn’t sure that necessarily translated to any actual capability on Huan’s part.

Huan wished he’d just humour him. Now that he’d leapt to Tahno’s side, he began to feel conscious of the fact that it would be very easy, right now, to come off as overbearing, if he didn’t already. It wouldn’t be the first time someone accused him of that. Usually he’d scoff at the notion, but with Tahno — in the current quiet of the room, which provided his roommate little else to be distracted by — Huan was very aware of the attention he’d just demanded for himself.

Part of him wished he’d just let Tahno go to bed, and part of him reveled in the exhilarating trepidation.

“I… How did you— ” He began, then mentally shook himself and hardened his voice. “Sit down, come on.” First things first.

Tahno gave a shrug that shouldn’t have signaled acquiescence, but somehow did - all of his body language always felt vaguely noncommittal. But after a few months of him lurking around in the same apartment, Huan had figured out how to read its subtleties, and now did so automatically.

Rolling the shoulder he’d shrugged, Tahno came and slumped beside him on the couch.

“I’m gonna get some ice,” Huan said, then rose, biting his cheek, and left him there.

He should probably have made some talk while he pottered about for the ice and some of that aloe ointment from home that he knew he had somewhere around here. It was one of those things he’d never expected to actually need, throwing it in the back of a drawer he couldn’t recall - but it looked like the occasion to treat some inflammation had finally come. Mom had always kept huge pots of the plant around the grounds - they dominated the walkways, sculpture-like themselves - and she could have hour-long conversations about them with her horticulturist, so it must’ve been good stuff. Who knew, maybe this would… What, impress Tahno?

Huan was embarrassed to have had the thought, and pretty much annihilated it in its tracks. Anyway, here it was - he stretched his fingers for the tube of ointment, ice pack cradled in his other arm, and made his way back to the couch.

Tahno was sitting with his eyes skyward, blank. The fog of impenetrability that was always about him seemed particularly dense tonight. Probably, he was preparing to deflect Huan’s attempts to probe him for answers about what had gone down. It wasn’t exactly that Tahno was hard to pin down — more that whatever he let on about himself seemed to come about despite his best efforts. He was protective of himself.

Huan could see it, because he knew something of that sort of pride - the sort that was stubborn and not without bitterness. It’s not like either of them were easy to get to know. It was the kind of thing he’d only admit at an hour like this.

Maybe it was the same for Tahno, and the fog would thin with a bit of prodding. Huan wrapped the ice pack in one of the thin towels he used while painting, grabbing it off the shelf beneath the coffee table, and shaking it to unfold it. Usually this place was a mess, but he had tidied up as part of the prep for this evening’s brainstorming session, and the lack of cups strewn about definitely contributed to the night’s cool, new ambience.

“Ice.”

Tahno’s ears pricked and he sat up, not without a wince. “Oh, thanks.”

If he was startled when Huan held it up to the bruise himself, he didn’t show it much. He just swallowed, as Huan gently pressed the ice pack to his cheek with a hand that he mentally willed not to falter.

For a second, Tahno’s eyes closed in relief. The weariness about him evaporated when he did, like his eyes had just been waiting for the opportunity to fall shut.

Then Huan coughed. He felt weird sitting there, sort-of touching Tahno’s face in silence. “So… How did you even get like this?”

Tahno opened one eye at that, and some humour that Huan hadn’t expected glimmered in it. He bit the inside of his cheek again.

“If I tell you, will you promise not to bite my head off?”

Huan forced a laugh. Again, he was surprised when Tahno returned it with a scoff of his own. If he was blushing, it’d be impossible to tell in the dim light, so there was that. Before he could think of something to say, Tahno took pity on him.

“Fine, fine. I’m sorry I scared you.” He paused, and when he spoke again he sounded candid, but not reluctant. “We were just at a bar. A couple of those losers down Razorbill Row - they’re Rabaroos fans and there was that match tonight. You know, some of them still think it’s funny to rag on the Wolfbats, like we didn’t make the game in our day— Normally I wouldn’t give them the time of day, but…”

Huan couldn’t help but be skeptical about that final part, and the way Tahno trailed off affirmed the feeling.

But anyway, he had never been to that part of town. And he decided he probably never wanted to go. It lurked vaguely in his imagination as exactly the kind of stylish yet seedy Republic City neighbourhood that gave the city its dusky allure — but in an abstracted sort of way, like he’d want to channel an impression of it in a sculpture or painting from a very safe distance.

Tahno — one look at him made it clear he was right at home in that kind of place. Hence his enigmatic appeal, Huan had figured.

The silence was stretching; he could tell because Tahno’s eyes lingered on him as if in reminder, and the awkwardness crept in again.

“Were they, like, trying to taunt you?” He said all too quick, and gestured vaguely, “Whoever… did this?”

He couldn’t have come out with a more stupid question, obviously. He averted his eyes, put the ice pack down, and busied himself uncapping the ointment, all his focus pointedly in his own lap.

He heard Tahno sigh, oblivious. “It’s just kids, you know… got a few too many drinks in them. Demons.” He bristled again, making it quite clear he wasn’t making them any excuses.

“So did you, by the looks of it,” Huan said. He was relieved to get some higher ground here, and hopefully Tahno wasn’t going to feel too provoked by it.

When he looked up again, Tahno was combing a hand back through his hair, placid and unruffled again. “Just a scuffle,” he said, finally cracking a cool smile. The ice seemed to have done its job. The way he flashed between rare candor and cool indifference — Huan struggled to keep up.

He said nothing, but pressed his lips together, clenched his stomach, and dabbed at Tahno’s cheek with the aloe gel.

“They’re a scrappy bunch down there. You’d fit in, you know.” Tahno said, eyeing him with that biting mischief.

Huan pressed his lips tighter, a smile and a scowl fighting beneath them. The scowl winning, to be frank. It wasn’t too hard, in all honesty, to see why someone might want to sock that face. But it stirred up a different impulse in Huan, at the end of it.

“What, you scared? Have you ever been to a real bar before?”

“I’ve been to a bar,” Huan snapped so quickly that he revealed the lie.

“Aha,” Tahno drawled. The laugh was good-natured though. Then he hissed in bliss at the coolness of the ointment, and Huan wasn’t sure if he hated him for making such a disarming sound without warning. “...So, you want me to take you?”

“Where?”

“Down Razorbill Row.”

Huan had to admit the idea held some appeal when he put it like that, though maybe that was just the hour and his sensibilities would return when he woke up in the morning. He’d certainly feel a lot more - well, comfortable was one way to put it - if Tahno took him there. Although he was pretty sure things would go south quick if Tahno fell in danger of fancying another scuffle.

“Come on. You’re always holed up in here.”

Huan was starting to feel defensive for real now. “I- I’m working.”

“On your art, huh?” Tahno clicked his tongue and said it slowly, like he was testing the waters. “Well. Maybe it could use a little inspiration from out there… if you don’t mind me saying.”

Huan waited for the blind affront to subside. Then he considered it. Maybe he didn’t mind. He wiped the ointment off his fingers onto his other wrist. When he looked at Tahno the silent humour between them made any insult he felt completely inconsequential.

“I mean… you’re right,” Huan conceded.

Tahno wasn’t the only one that tried too hard to keep their cards close. And now that he’d let one slip, it felt like Tahno was seeing him as a new person.

“Woof. You’re full of surprises tonight. I’m not kidding, I thought that one would go down way worse.”

Huan barked a laugh the same moment as Tahno did, their held gaze taut with a new giddiness.

#huan beifong #tahno #legend of korra #lok fanfiction #**#fic commissions

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manicmedic-tf2 · 5 years ago

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So as some of you may have seen I’m a bit of a OC hoarder and I’ll give you a brief history on each of them. You can ask me about them if you want to know more!

1. RED Saboteur also known as Sabs- Harlow isn’t her real name as her name is actually a number. She came from a shady company called Revelation Tech where she was born and trained to kill. She escaped, her “siblings” came after her and she took most of them out, and then finally arrived at Mann Co.

2. RED Executioner- Halvar Oloffson- Swedish giant that was a national underground fighter that ranked 8 out of 10 best fighters. His family weren’t aware until they saw him beaten up and he caved. They convinced him to do a job less dangerous to support them, so he ended up finding Mann Co. and the job wasn’t too dangerous since he ended up coming back to life.

3. RED Bodyguard- Hasida Mizrahi- After a family tragedy, she moved from home of Israel to Austria and she needed a way to support her family. She found an ad in Mann Co. and she joined there.

4. Mediator- Nathan Red Hawk- Needing a way to support his father’s cancer treatment he worked for Mann Co. to settle any issues there may be between the mercenaries. Whether it be in their own team or the enemy it couldn’t interfere with the job. Poor man is in a done mood 99% of the time with them.

5. BLU Saboteur- Hikaru Kuwabara- Former hitman for the yakuza and after an incident on a hit he left. Without anything except his skills he looks for redemption and to do that he needs money to help start a new life. For that it was Mann Co.

6. BLU Bodyguard- Julio Ricardo Jr.- Celebrity from Mexico City as a lucha libre wrestler. His father was also a wrestler and was the Classic Bodyguard. After his first overdose and has hit rock bottom he goes to his roots and goes to work for Mann Co. to help him.

7. BLU Exectioner- Dakari Akintola- From a political family in Ethiopia and a soldier. Though after being dishonorably dishcharged he was shunned from his family and went to America and found work in Mann Co.

8. Therapist- Chahna Burman- A highly recommended therapist from India, she was hired on to evaluate and support each of the mercenaries. She provides a safe haven and a break from the stressful and intense environment that Mann Co. has brought on.

9. Assistant- Liling Zhao- With organized crime roots in her family, Liling wanted nothing from it as she wanted to pursue knowledge. After they framed her at the university she worked at she went on the run. Then found Mann Co. as a hideout and a way to make money. She fills in and helps her co-workers and even have to fill in for the mercs if need be despite hating violence.

10. Swindler- Jules Rodriguez- A very well known theif and hoodwinker with a past that’s not solidly known she is seductive as she is charming. After getting pissing off the wrong people she went to work for Mann Co. to lay low for a while.

11. Kingpin- Ellsworth “Scrappy” Morrison- One of the biggest mob bosses from New York that ran Harlem with a firm grip. He was very well liked by the locals and even his rivals respected him until his cousin formed a coup and just about killed him had it not been for Miss Pauling pulling him from the brink of death. She brought him to Mann Co. and offered him the job there and having nothing left, but revenge in his heart he accepted.

12. Seramu- Just a non-binary (he/him, they/them) 10,000+ year old sassy wizard that loves to annoy the mercenaries, but also secretly lonely. Really doesn’t like Merasmus and basically calls him a poser.

13. Virulent- Rin Hamasaki- Expert in poisons, sociopath, goth before it was cool, hates people, and cares about her pets.

14. BLU Sniper- Ragni Pelenato- Aussie Samoan and expert marksman. Super chill and loves to annoy his RED counterpart.

15. BLU Medic- Abra Schulz- Ex-wife to RED Medic and widow to her second husband. She wanted a place to help provide for her clinic and her family and found Mann Co.

16. BLU Pyro- Siku Nakoyak- Former firefighter and a pyromaniac that had nowhere else to go and with nothing left to lose she found Mann Co.. A place where she can settle her pyromania and have a place to live.

17. Instigator- Elize Taylor- An actress looking to get into the mindset of the roles she’s been playing lately. From little ole Tulsa, Kansas, to Hollywood and New York, and now at Mann Co.

18. RED Guard Dog- Lou- Pit mix adopted from a shelter as a puppy and trained to be a K-9 unit for Mann Co. A big goofball who loves his humans and steals socks on the base and off he’s a great teammate.

19. BLU Guard Dog-Bud- German Shepherd descended from many K-9 units and military dogs. A very professional dog that does not mess around when it comes to spies.

20. Enforcer-Oscar- Sabs’s oldest “brother” from Revelation Tech. Searched for her since he aided in her escape(that she was unaware of) and after finding her and reconnecting her he started working for the company as someone who makes sure the rules are followed after a merc breaks them. With his enhanced strength and short temper he doesn’t mess around.

21. Watcher-Marshal- Sabs’s second older brother from Relevation Tech. After being nearly killed by her when he attacked her he lost interest and went on his own for a bit until the people from the program tried to take him back. They would have taken him had it not been for Oscar and dragging him to find Sabs. He started working for Mann Co. as someone who gets dirt on anyone. With his teleportation powers he can get in and out of anywhere with no problem.

22. Vigil- Valeria Gomez- A former nun from Columbia who is hailed a hero and a criminal back in her country for taking out cartels. She went to North America for a place to lay low for a while and was recruited by Miss Pauling for work.

And that be it! If you’d like to know more about any of them feel free to ask!

#tf2 oc #tf2 fandom #my ocs #team fortress 2

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freshlyjuicedbeetles · 6 years ago

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Before I Rose - A V for Vendetta fic.

V’s life before Larkhill

Warnings: Dystopia, transphobia, misogyny, heteronormality, homophobia.

The first time I realized there was something terribly wrong with this country was when they started taking away books.

I was a Creative Writing and Literature professor at the University of London. I was new, only in my fourth year of teaching. My name was William Murphy Dietrich. Everyone called me Murphy. I enjoyed my profession immensely. I enjoyed my students and essentially, being paid to read and impart my knowledge on nubile minds. My classes were the type where our craft was taken seriously as though it were a dying craft and we were the only ones to preserve it, to only speak in puns throughout an entire class period and laugh uncontrollably. That was what I wanted. I wanted my material and those of my students to be taken seriously, while still having an inviting comradery and dialogue with them. I had solid relationships, my students. I was a bit worried about that at first, I was only a few years older than my senior students and hoped it would not be an issue. I also taught the general education portion of Literature to first- and second-year students. I wanted them to leave me with a solid framework of knowledge about literature that would continue throughout life. Shakespeare, Faust, Borges, and Dumas, going into depth about the pieces that may have only been glossed over in secondary school or introducing entirely new works.

The day in question started like any other. It was a Tuesday and I had my Creative Writing classes that day. It was the day the world began to end and Norsefire began. It was just after the beginning of the fall semester. The air was cool, and the leaves were starting to turn and litter the ground. I walked from the parking lot to the building that held my classrooms and office. The tube stations had been permanently shut down for a time, necessitating my need for a car despite living in London proper. I didn’t mind the make and model as long as it served its purpose and had a decent sound system. Even then, I had a ravenous appetite for music. That day, I had my earbuds firmly planted in my ears.

Many hellos and other greetings where exchanged between myself and my other students as I made my way to the classroom. When I entered the room, my students had already assembled the room as I liked it. I would turn out the lights in my classrooms and open the blinds, allowing for natural sunlight to come in. They would move their desks in a circle. They were ready to go, with their laptops and notebooks out, chatting and laughing with their fellow classmates. I had had each student previously at least once, if not during their entire time at the university. I knew each of them well. I took an empty seat in the circle and began roll call as my own laptop started. Due to the nature of my Creative Writing class, a class that centered on peer to peer critiques, I was able to keep those classes small and intimate, ten students or less. This allowed each student to get an in-depth critique from the other students and me.

“Morning everyone!” I called, taking a large drink of coffee. “How is everyone?”

I was answered by a few affirmatives. I noticed one of my students, Micha, who taught his entire university career Senior, English Ed. Major, had his head down on his desk, lightly snoring.

“Might I remind you all of my falling asleep in class policy. You subject yourself to any kind of prank I think of to wake you up and send you to the front of the class and dance to any of the songs from the Rocky Horror Picture Show to get the blood flowing.” I stated, mischievously.

I started clapping and the rest of the class joined in, giggling and grinning. Micha soon awoke, joining in on the superfluous clapping. He yawned and looked around, noticing we were watching him. Realization dawned on him. My tactic was infamous.

“Oh, God! You jerk, Murphy!” Micha exclaimed, holding his reddened face in hands as he chuckled good-naturedly.

I smirked, pulling up music on my laptop. “Get up and show us your best Time Warp!”

The class and I laughed heartily as he danced, enjoying the spectacle he was putting on. Micha went full on with the dance, enjoying it just as much as we were, making eye contact with each of us. If he had a feather boa, he would have used it. A few other students joined him in the middle of the circle, dancing as well.

It was times like these I wondered if I would have had as much fun as I did teaching the artistic students than I would I had taught more science minded.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. You were a good sport. It happens, just try not to let it happen again.” I said once he finished, patting him on his back. “One day I want the band to get involved, at least the percussionists,” I said ominously.

“Anyway, on to our topic!” I said, drumming my hands on my desk. “I want you all to write a short piece of description. Description is the meat and potatoes of writing. You must walk a line between too much and too little. Too little description and your readers are lost and disinterested. Too much and they are bored down with details and your work collapses on itself. Just the right amount centers them and gives them a visual idea of the places and characters. Think of description as decoration. Would you rather spend your time in a nicely decorated room or one that is unpleasantly sparse and utilitarian, or perhaps gaudy and overdone? Pick anyone or anything in this room or something we would all know and write about it. I’ll give you,” I paused looking at my watch. “ten minutes to write and afterward, we’ll go around the room, you’ll read your piece and we’ll try to guess what your subject matter is. Aaaand go!”

The class nodded and starting scribbling and typing away. Ten minutes later, we started our critiques. “Who volunteers as tribute?” I asked, scanning the room for a volunteer.

One of my newer students, Samantha, whom I had only had once the previous year, raised her hand. I smiled, nodding for her to start.

She was nervous but excited to read her work. She smiled as her hands shook and her voice wavered and stuttered. “He stands tall and thin, short wavy black hair which he either spends hours to perfect or simply rolls out of bed. He’s partial to button up shirts, khakis, boat shoes and carries a leather satchel with earbuds almost permanently glued to his ears though it served a vital function in keeping him alive.”

“Murphy!” The class answered.

I grinned, giving a small, dramatic bow of my head.

After the class, I went to my office and checked my email. I had several students emailing about a textbook snafu at the campus bookstore, university spam about events going on around campus. I was let down and disappointed when I saw an email from an intended speaker for my Literature 2 class, London based author John Hammond had to cancel due to his daughter falling ill but would be happy to reschedule. I was eager to meet him and to hear him speak and found his works insightful and thought-provoking. After sorting through emails and contacting the bookstore, I kicked my feet up on my desk and began reading my students work for a critique.

After finishing several, there was a knock at my office door, looking up, I saw my brother, Gordon. Even though I am younger than my brother Gordon, I was his protector in school. Though tall and lanky, I was scrappy. If I saw something I didn’t like, I did what I could to fix it. Children can be little monsters, smelling fear and difference on their intended victim. I threw more than few punches for my brother until he became known as the class clown, winning people over with his wit and humor. I didn’t like my brother being harassed for things as inane as his weight. He had better things to be harassed about and only I could do so.

Our parents had also been professors at the university. They retired before I graduated. Our mother was a professor of botany and our father taught piano as well as several other music classes such as ‘The History of Rock and Roll’ and ‘Jazz Studies.’ Dad continued to teach piano on his own time and Mum began work on her doctorate. Both Mum and Dad taught us their trades.

“Look who the cat drug in. The same man who won’t return my calls or texts has granted me the honor of his presence.” I teased.

“Do you have a moment? Or 60?” He asked, nervousness lacing his voice.

I dropped my feet from my desk, sensing the significance of the upcoming situation. “Yes, of course,” I answered, gesturing to the seat in front of my desk. He closed the office door and sat down.

“I’m gay, brother.” He said unceremoniously.

“Yes, I know. We all know.” I nodded casually, intending for him to go on and get to the point.

“What?” He had an expression of relief and confusion.

“We’ve all had the inkling for some time now. No one cares.” I replied.

“How do you know all of this?” Gordon asked.

“That you’re gay or their feelings?

“Both.”

“We talk about you when you’re not around,” I said nonchalantly, shrugging. “It seems with Mum that what made her think was your lack of female company.”

“What? You don’t have a girl either!” Gordon blustered.

“I am but a humble university professor, married to his craft,” I said dramatically. “It’s a horrible stereotype, but if the shoe fits. I prefer my solitude… Also, Mum found your secret stash of Japanese yaoi tentacle and tamakeri porn back in college, that may have told her something was up.”

“If the shoe fits?” Gordon sputtered, “You don’t even wear socks half the time!”

“That’s what you take offense to?” I laughed, “I hate constricting clothing. I’m claustrophobic.”

Gordon huffed a sigh of relief, rubbing his face and eyes with his hands. “Well, this went better than I expected.” He sat back in the seat and thought for a moment.

“Really? No one cares?”

I shook my head, “Not a soul.”

“I had a speech and everything!” Gordon complained. “Can I still do my speech?” He looked at me hopefully.

“No.”

“Fine. Anyway, I wanted to run this idea by you for a sketch. Sutler…in drag.”

I winced. “Oh, that is a truly unpleasant sight. However, allow me to critique...” I paused, forming my thoughts. “You’re new. This is only your fourth season. Are you sure you can get away with that? Or that anyone could, for that matter? Sutler has an awfully thin skin.”

Sutler rose to power in the parliament amid multiple unsavory allegations; sexual assault, rape, racism, etc. etc. He ran on the ultra-conservative ticket, promising to bring back morals and strong values, despite the vocal objections. He even had his own party; Norsefire which many believed to be a Nordic supremacy hate group. Somehow, he won his seat. In my opinion, his mouth was bigger than his mind.

“Yeah, he’s the kind of guy who forces his prudeness on others, isn’t he? He doesn’t want to drink, so you shouldn’t either type of bloke. Still, he’s an easy target,” Gordon shrugged, grinning.

“Just be careful. I don’t want to have to pay for postage to whatever gulag he throws you in,” I teased.

Gordon stood, “No worries, brother. It probably won’t even air until next year. Who knows what could change between then and now?”

Time passed. The news became more vitriolic, hijacked by Sutler and his party. One-sided news pieces and corrupted studies on how this race is less than. Pollution was skyrocketing, Ebola was creeping out of Africa like a monster in your closet.

“Avoid contact with black people,” The news warned.

Thousands died in a protest against ableism in Leeds when it went awry. The news admonished the protestors for being spoiled kids.

Around the same time, the entire royal family had died in a mysterious accident while returning from the former United States. We all knew it was coming; the ravens had left.

Sutler called for the end of the monarchy, urging that it was time to move on from such antiquated ideals. After no other rites to the thrown came forward, the regime of Norsefire began, led by Sutler himself as Chancellor. Somehow, the people found him to secure and believed he could lead the country to peace and prosperity.

Things escalated quickly from there. It started with dogs. Breeds were being regulated to ‘no fearsome sorts’. What kind of guideline was that? My grandmother had a poodle named Terrance that Gordon and I were terrified of as boys while our cousin Charlie had a Boxer that was as sweet as could be. It seemed as though Norsefire was slowly trying to remove any sort of protection we had as citizens. Of course, they took away any weapons just short of letter openers and cap guns around the same time. It didn’t really stop the mass shooter problem either.

I sat back and watched, stunned. I couldn’t help but remember all those times I was too lazy, too inconvenienced or refused to vote for a subpar, a lesser evil candidate. Should I have voted all those times? Did my vote, my single tick on a touchscreen, matter that much? Would the lesser evil candidate that I was just as unsure about have been a better choice than the one who won? Would my vote even count? Voter suppression was rampant. If it wasn’t that, votes had somehow ‘gotten lost’ or ‘corrupted’.

The snow crunched under my feet as I walked to my office. I had been annoyed that day due to having to use margarine instead of butter in my eggy in the basket at breakfast. It threw off my entire morning. Mum used to make it for Gordon and me. In my inbox, an email from the university’s president caught my eye. An important and mandatory meeting was scheduled for the end of the week.

Still, my classes continued on as normal, our own self contained and insulated bubble of freedom. We were the true kings and queens. We said what we wanted and thought as we wanted. I did not censor my students. However, I did start to lose some students who were Pro – Norsefire. Shame and fear drove the people out. It upset me. As much as I wanted to, I never tried to dissuade someone from their beliefs.

I barely thought of the meeting during the week, my mind was bogged down with more important things such as midterm grades and the latest horror show on the news. I tried to make myself as small and inconspicuous as possible when out in public. The Fingermen, Norsefire’s pseudo, Gestapo-esque police force was itching for a fight and was above the law. Anyone who dared challenge Norsefire was met with a black bag around your head, sent to a reeducation camp. You never came back no matter what Norsefire promised.

Before the meeting, I grabbed a coffee and a granola bar. The meeting was likely a boring housekeeping one about the upcoming instructor evaluations. I considered listening to an audiobook instead but decided to be a good employee and listen, even if it rarely deviated from the last three years’ worth of meetings.

I took a seat in the back. The moment the President stood, the air thickened, it was something about his stance. He looked rigid and concerned. This wasn’t a regular meeting.

“Good morning, colleagues. I am here to announce a few changes coming to the University starting immediately.”

As I sat in the meeting, it grew worse and worse. Norsefire was going to heavily censor many of our courses, especially the gen eds. In the science department, evolution and any sexual education were being heavily censored. Our Women and Gender Studies, Religious Studies and any other classes or major pertaining to another culture, living or otherwise, was being eliminated. Basic safety in the orientation seminar was introducing abstinence-only, shame and biases which would likely decrease and reports of sexual misconduct on campus. These changes would come into effect at midnight the following day. This left upwards of a thousand students without majors and/or classes, many already in progress or nearly complete, not only disrupting their education but their living arrangements and financial aid as they were no longer enrolled.

After the meeting, the staff and I all filed into a single line and was given a packet depending on our department of material we were no longer allowed to teach. I went back to my office and closed the door. For several moments, I sat at my desk and stared at the ugly yellow packet in front of me. Finally, I opened it. Inside, there was a list of books, poems and short stories I was not allowed to teach. Failure to comply would result in revocation of my credentials and degrees, expulsion from the university, a hefty fine and a sentence to a reeducation camp.

“So, this is how education dies…”

To Kill a Mockingbird: Maybe not all people of color are criminals.

The Outsiders: Don’t let the nasty world beat the good out of you.

The Scarlet Letter: Hester Prynne was without womanly shame.

The Life of Pi: Not Christian enough.

The Perks of Being a Wallflower: Weirdness is not bad and does not villainize a gay character.

The Hunger Games: That’s obvious. A young woman who overthrows a dystopian government? It was one of the first to go.

I am Malala, Harry Potter, Fahrenheit 451, Ellen Hopkins, Kurt Vonnegut, Darwin, Huxley, Angelou. The cultural mind was closing. Anybody who wasn’t white and Christian was a bad person.

The day the changes went into effect was a sorrowful but angered one. In my classes, the mood was akin to death in the family. Instead of starting our lesson on Hemmingway and the Iceberg Theory, the changes were of discussion, even before I came into the room, my students were already in a heated debate about it. I just watched out the window at the campus below, my back to my class, as they ranted.

“How can they do this? We have rights!” Josie exclaimed, her fist pounding her desk.

“Not anymore.” Zach scoffed.

“I can’t wrap my mind around this. Haven’t these people picked up a history book before? This shit has happened before, and it did not turn out well!”

“Villains believe they are the heroes of their stories.” Kenny mused.

“They’re humans like us and everyone else. They’re stupid like all other humans. We always think that we can do it better than the generations before us.”

I had a few students who were utterly silent. I could tell they were wondering what was next.

“This is fucking ridiculous!” Colton exclaimed, knocking over his desk.

It was time to intervene. I turned to my class and was quite stunned to see that barely any of my classes had deserters, as Piper called them. Out of the five classes I taught, I had only lost five students. I would like to think that I had loyal students who were freethinkers and trusted me that caused this, while other arts classes suffered.

“I think it’s best that we all take time to process this.” The first syllable out of my mouth calmed the ruckus.

“Continue reading Hemmingway and working on your final. Remember, you have a choice to write a five-hundred-word essay analyzing Hemmingway’s techniques in his published works or a ten-page short story emulating his techniques in an original work. I still need the decisions from a few of you. Please have them to me by Thursday so you have ample time to work. You are all dismissed.”

Music, movies and television shows did not fare any better. Anything more than mindless dribble and noise was either heavily censored or blacklisted. Celebrities were just as fair game when it came to the black bags as any other average bloke. Tabloids and gossipmongers didn’t seem affected though. I guess it pays to know which debutante had gone rogue.

Words like collateral and rendition became curses, no longer appropriate for polite conversation. Rendition, another word for interpretation. In Norsefire’s world, nothing is left to interpretation and Norsefire tells you the ‘right’ interpretation and anyone who believes otherwise is a traitor. Collateral another word of security. Norsefire does not want you to feel safe and secure. If you do, why would you need such extremes that Norsefire uses?

I should have known what would happen next.

“Where’s Daniella?” I asked my Creative Writing 2 class. I hadn’t seen her in days and it was unlike her to miss a class, “Has anyone seen her?”

The class looked back and forth at each other like they were in on a secret I wasn’t. “She was black bagged last week,” Skylar said quietly, her words heavy.

Of course. She was black and a transwoman; a complete undesirable in Norsefire’s eyes.

“Oh.” Was all I could say. Part of me was planning a daring adventure to break her out. The other was already beaten into submission.

“Holy shit…” Preston said, his eyes wide and mouth agape as he slowly stood up looking out the window.

We all clambered to the window overlooking the university center. The group Young Norsefire had signs and tables sat up. On the tables were books and Norsefire regalia and lighters. A distance away, several male students were starting a bonfire.

It was a book burning.

‘Something is terribly wrong with this country,’ I thought, my face inches from the glass.

My class and I stared in stunned silence. I had never seen a book burning before. It felt so primitive, so subhuman. Once the fire caught on, books were thrown with glee.

“I think Wyatt Sanders just threw a copy of the Koran.”

“Yeah, his buddy Josh just threw in The Great Gatsby.”

“There goes John Steinbeck.”

“And Stephen King.”

I began to close the blinds and turned on the classroom lights.

“Forget what’s happening out there. We still have class.” I said as I sat down in the circle. I continued class as the cheers of the Norsefire indoctrinated and smell of burnt paper permeated the room.

The latest social media trend became one of proudly burning books, submerging and otherwise defiling e-readers and wiping audio and e-books from their device’s memories. ALS Bucket Challenge – eat your heart out. Almost every video ended with the person or people yelling “England Prevails!” like a war cry. I had already seen too much of this for one lifetime.

The news of the changes hit my department hard, but not as much as I expected. Still, enrollment in arts courses was dropping and we had lost several faculty members. It wasn’t just so that they were to pursue other career opportunities or earn a more ‘practical’ degree, Norsefire was truly frightening them. Anything that made them truly think was wrong and hurtful. Books and words carried ideas that Norsefire perverted into something scary.

As though it couldn’t get any worse, during Christmas Mass with Sutler in attendance, a bomb was denotated. He was the lone survivor of just short of five hundred people, men, women, children, families. The news praised him for trying to save as many as he could and what a tragedy it was that he couldn’t save a soul. His photo, one of him in a tattered sweater, soot-covered and holding the mangled corpse of a little girl, her dress bloodied beyond recognition and his anguished face was splashed everywhere possible.

I wasn’t sure if it was staged by his people or what, but it seemed to spook him nonetheless. Curfews were being instilled and roving surveillance vans were dispatched, patrolling the country. Sutler said that if they could hear the plans as they were being made, another bombing could be stopped. Voices sprang up in objection but were silenced, chided, that the surveillance was for our, your protection.

Soon, official portraits of the Chancellor were shipped to every home in the British Isles “to be displayed prominently in your home” as a show of pride in our country and faith in our leader. I grimaced when mine arrived. I didn’t want a portrait of a creepy old man hanging above my mantle. It was soon forgotten under a pile of old coats in my closet. I half expected his eyes to be bugged with cameras.

There was one bright spot on the horizon; Gordon’s new season would soon air with the first episode being the Sutler in drag one. I usually watched Gordon’s show but never made actual commitments to, but I really wanted to see this one.

As the ten o’ clock news was ending, droning on about the war and chaos, I sat down with a late-night snack of junk that may kill me one day.

Gordon started with his opening monologue about current events, making fun of celebrity baby names and such. He continued one of his most popular skits, The Boring Dystopia. His character was Norm Hall who tries to navigate an unjust society. On this night, in particular, he was pressured into buying designer oxygen due to air pollution.

After several others and a few commercial breaks, Gordon sat at his desk and addressed his audience.

“Esteemed viewers. It’s good to be back for a new season. I’d like to thank you from the bottom of my cold black heart for allowing me this honor.”

The clicking of high heels on tile was heard on the stage, but Gordon continued to speak.

“Ahem,” A masculine voice said off-screen.

Gordon feigned shock as the camera panned just to Gordon’s right.

Sutler stood there haughtily, in a black corset and panties, his hand on his hip in all his wrinkled glory. His rouge was too bright and unblended, his blue eyeshadow went past his bushy eyebrows. His fishnets hung loosely like his skin on his hairy legs as he twirled a ratty boa.

I had just taken a drink of my soda. I inhaled to laugh, sending the carbonation throughout my sinuses. I laughed heartily even though I could hear the bubbles from my soda popping. It took several moments to compose myself. Every time I thought I was okay, I looked at the screen and the fit started again. I barely grasped what was going on. Something about Sutler being upset that he wasn’t invited as a guest. I had to leave the room when Sutler propped himself on Gordon’s lap, I could barely breathe.

I blew my nose and wiped my eyes. I sent a text to Gordon giving him my approval of the skit. Then I noticed I had an email. I received an email from the president of the university saying government funding was being severely cut, my department receiving the brunt of it. I was ordered to update my yearly budget to meet the new criteria. A few minutes after the email was sent, my department chair sent an email to all teaching staff about a peaceful rally starting in front of the Language Arts building on campus and walking to the Norsefire headquarters. I immediately signed up. This was the last straw. I was done standing by and idly watching.

The email included several do’s and don’ts of rally safety. There were several things I needed for the rally. A comfortable pair of shoes, for one.

My phone buzzed constantly with emails going back and forth of people confirming their attendance. Then, the email was sent to students who rapidly confirmed that they would attend as well.

I started to feel giddy like I was planning a surprise. Sleep would not be happening any time soon, so I got dressed and hit the shops for rally necessities.

I grabbed one of each charger cords available just in case one of my students or colleagues needed them. I bought a new power bank just to be safe. I couldn’t deny the practicality of a first aid kit or small clear bags in the accessory’s aisle. Columbine may have been years ago and in another country, but no one could argue the importance of a clear bag. I thought of even buying a special outfit and mask for the occasion but reeled myself in.

I’m sure I looked quite odd to the lady at the till with my basket full of cords, clear backpacks, a first aid kit and a new pair of shoes.

On the day of the rally, at 3:15 on the dot, everyone participating would abruptly stop what they were doing, especially if in the middle of a class and leave. We would all meet at the university center and walk the short distance to Norsefire headquarters.

3:15 fell during my Creative Writing 2 class. Several students had signs with them. “A couple of things before we leave. Your finals are due this time next week at 5PM. Please make sure you have them to me before then.”

I looked around the room for any questions or signs of confusion on their faces.

I nodded, “Now about the rally. Remember, it is a peaceful one. No touching, not hitting, no fighting any counter protesters we may see. That includes yelling. If you feel you may be enticed to act out, Professor Martin has earplugs to drown out their voices.

I began to pull out the clear backpacks from under my desk. “I bought these for all of you. I don’t want the police to think you’re hiding a single thing. Please, use these instead.”

Several students hurried forward and claimed a bag.

“Please be aware of your surroundings! I cannot stress the importance of the buddy system enough. You stay with your buddy, you look out for buddy. This includes the mundane things like making sure you’re both hydrated. It will keep your energy up and voices strong. Even if it’s only five degrees out, you can still pass out from dehydration. I wouldn’t put it past Norsefire to see your unconscious body as an easy target.

“Make sure your phones are all charged fully. Even better, have external batteries or power banks. I have an iPhone XR and plenty of charger cords for several other models in my bag if you need a boost.

“I hope you told someone who will not be in attendance today that you will be going to this rally, as the original email instructed. If not, please do so now.

Several heads bowed to send texts.

“There is a very real possibility some it, not all us of could be hurt and/or arrested. Tell your contact they will hear from you at a certain time after the rally and if they do not, they must call a civil rights lawyer. In a similar vein,” I said as I dug in my leather satchel for permanent markers and began tossing them throughout the class.

“Write an emergency contact number on your person in case you are arrested, and your phone is taken away.

“As we march and when we get to Norsefire’s headquarters, keep your eyes moving. Anyone who looks suspicious is suspicious. Tell someone. Also, plan you exit if things go south. As we planned, all our rides back home will be parked a few blocks away and out of sight. It’ll be our home base of sort. Professors Tobias and Moore will be there with drinks and snacks if anyone needs them.

“Water makes pepper spray worse. I see some of you already have masks. If you do not, Colton Pruitt as plenty extra, please wear a mask. If you are sprayed, milk will neutralize it.

“If you plan to stream, go live or film during the rally, please be careful not to show any other protester’s face. Someone may get doxed. However, you see any of Norsefire or the police doing anything wrong, film it.

“Lastly, if you do get arrested, remain calm and do not fight or argue. It’ll only make the situation worse. The best way you can fight back is in court. Do not run your mouth at the police or while you’re in jail. It can be used against you. Ask for a lawyer and sit tight. After you get out, document as much evidence as you can – any injuries you may have sustained when you were being detained and held, names, badge numbers and so on and forth. Any questions?”

None. I was met with resolute faces.

“Then let’s go.”

My students and I filed out the classroom as several others did as well. We all formed a large mass as others joined from the rest of the university.

In a sense, we were anonymous. No one outside of campus knew who we were. To Norsefire we were simply an idea personified. We were unfiltered and uncensored education.

There was chanting, “EDUCATION is a RIGHT! That is why we HAVE TO FIGHT!” I stayed silent. We walked the several blocks, everyone on the street making way for us and some even joining.

We grew stronger with each person. As we drew near to the headquarters, we locked arms. I was locked with Piper and Micha.

We turned the corner and the ominous black and red building came into view. Fingermen and men with guns were stationed out front.

We gathered around the front of the building, waving our pithy signs and chanting our chants. Trying to draw the Chancellor out.

“Pay cuts for teachers? We say NO! Tax the people with lots of dough!”

I noticed two Fingermen were watching me, whispering to each other, not taking their eyes off me. I swallowed hard and tried to remain calm. I really did not want to spend the night in a jail cell. One spoke into the radio on his shoulder.

My face went warm and my hearing turned to static. I disentangled myself from Micha and Piper and burrowed deeper into the crowd, not even releasing I broke a cardinal rule of rally safety: always stay with your buddy.

Someone grabbed my shoulder.

“Gordon Dietrich?”

I turned, about to correct whoever was behind me.

“That’s him,” Another voice said. “Bag him.”

“I’m not Gordon! I’m not Gordon!” I hollered.

Black linen soon covered my face.

#V for Vendetta

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idlescratchingsthings-blog · 6 years ago

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Part of a WIP: Witness.

I am trying to get back into writing. And I am suffering from some pretty crippling self-doubt, and some mega struggles actually getting anything from my head to the page. So, I am going to post some bits and pieces. I invite any feedback or constructive criticism that anyone might have. This first one is some bits and pieces from a Destiel Vietnam War AU (I will not apologise for that). I have a vague idea of overall plot, but it’s actually getting it out that is causing the real trouble.So, if anyone wants to give this a squiz and let me know what you think, I’d really appreciate it. Quick note: This is set during the Vietnam War and as such, contains depictions of violence and some homophobia. Just... FYI. ************************ The long grass around him danced. Between bullets and half-seen soldiers, the blades twisted and bent. It’s the last thing Dean should have been paying attention to in the middle of a contact, but he supposed he had to pick something to focus on. The sounds of battle were always too loud, and yet the noises made by his squad were always too quiet. He heard someone cry out to his left and moved, unthinking; the sound halfway familiar. Dean wasn’t sure what it was until he got there, and he wished it had been anything else. He found himself crouching over Garth. A skinny kid from Nebraska. Garth was sweet and stupid and he didn’t deserve to be here, bleeding out in the grass in front of Dean, crying for his mama, still trying to shoot the already dead VC with his jammed M16. The grass danced here too. Dean pressed down on the bayonet wound in Garth’s abdomen. He knew he was talking, rambling, trying to keep Garth calm, trying to get the kid to stop screaming. He had no idea what he was saying. Garth didn’t either, so Dean figured that was fair enough. Dean yelled for a medic before he pulled out a field dressing and wrapped the kid up as best he could. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The sounds of battle were fading around them. It had been a small ambush, but brutal. His hands were slippery. In a moment of almost painful clarity, Dean was suddenly focussed on Garth, and the task at hand. Garth was pale, not that that was anything new. He’d always looked stretched out. He moved as though his own body took him by surprise. He’d proven to be a decent soldier, though. No killer, but disciplined and good at taking direction. He’d won over the local children by making sock puppets with the scrappy remains he was constantly trying to darn. The medic shouldered Dean out of the way. Garth was a sweet kid, and Dean would be damned if he’d die here in this yellowing grass on the arse end of the world. He told Garth exactly that. Garth looked up at him like he believed it. Dean was sure glad one of them did. ******* The children were giggling. The boldest among them had been throwing peanut shells at the sleeping man. He was asleep by a public fountain in Saigon, laid out on his back on the thick concrete lip of the pool. He was scruffy, wrapped in a tan trench coat, and determined, it seemed, to sleep through the childrens’ game. That is, until one of them ventured too close, and the man leapt up, chasing them and laughing. They squealed and scattered. The older kids hoping that the encounter would culminate in gifts of sweets or small change. Some of these Americans were a push-over. Castiel yelled out in their native tongue that they were all incorrigible. They laughed. He called them over and bestowed chocolate bars on each of them, asking questions about who their parents were and what they did, if anyone had any relatives visiting for the upcoming holiday. Finally, they dispersed, and Cas moved on. He was looking for a contact to get him to the Viet Cong ranks. He wanted to report the war from as many angles as he could. To do that, he needed local knowledge and an in with the enemy. ****** The moon was gibbous and silvery. It’s light illuminated the little garden, playing in dean’s hair as he sat on the grass. A cigarette burned between the fingers of Dean’s right hand where it rested lightly. The soldier’s face was turned up to the sky, his eyes closed. Despite the brightness of the moonlight, Castiel couldn’t quite make out Dean’s freckles as he walked towards him, beers in hand. He sat beside Dean, maybe a little closer than he should have, their thighs pressed together solidly once Cas settled. Dean hummed but didn’t move until Castiel grumbled for a drag of his cigarette. Dean smiled as he handed it over, watching the filter tip on Cas’ mouth, watching the deep drag and exhale a little while after. Castiel smirked in response, slightly raising an eyebrow. Dean, always much braver than most men, continued watching unashamedly, his eyes not leaving Cas’ mouth until he was done looking. When he was, he unhooked one of the beers from Cas’ hands and sipped it. His eyes scanned the perimeter of the garden. ”You never did say why you stopped working at Newsweek.” He said. ”I thought you knew why I stopped working at Newsweek.” A little confused about the topic. Dean looked at him again, “I do know why you stopped working at Newsweek… I think I do, but you never said why. So I can’t be entirely sure. So, I’m asking.” It was a statement, there was no fire, no judgment in it, just a simple question. One Dean knew didn’t have an easy answer. ”Well, Newsweek won’t allow women to be journalists… so, someone like me… with my preferences… my proclivities… it was only a matter of time before they pushed me out. After all, how are you supposed to trust a sissy with something so important as war?” He took another drag of the cigarette as Dean sipped thoughtfully on his beer.

“You ain’t no sissy, Cas.”

”What about you, Dean? Who first called you a sissy?” Cas wasn’t sure whether the question was brave or stupid, he hadn’t meant to ask it anyway. But there it was now, hanging in the air between them. Dean looked at him for the longest time. Cas looked back, schooling his face into a neutral mask.

“M-my Dad.’, Dean croaked out, ‘My Dad was the first.” He finished the thought stronger, clearer.

”I was barely a teenager. I made friends with a kid down the street, we were just playing together. It wasn’t like that, but he - my Dad - saw something in me. I don’t know what I did, how he saw something I didn’t know yet…But I wasn’t allowed to see him again. I don’t even really remember anything about him. But I remember that sting of shame. I feel it now…” Cas watched Dean struggle for a moment before he offered his own story. Not wanting to leave Dean in that moment, that memory, alone.

“For me, it was my brother. Luke saw me with a boy when I was in High School. I got home, still giddy from the feelings of young love reciprocated, and he was waiting for me in my room. He asked me if I had fun being a filthy pervert. Told me that he’d tell everyone that I was a sissy, that they’d shun me, hate me… He’d tell everyone what I was… but not then… not that day, but one day. So I spent my entire adolescence in fear. Waiting for him to out me. I even dated a girl for a little while, Meg, but the way he’d smile wide and mean when we were together…”

“When did he?”

“He never did. It was just a way for him to have power over me.”

“Sounds like a real piece of work.”

“You have no idea.”

“Tell me about Meg. Why did you choose her?”

“She chose me. She was determined to be my friend. I think she knew we were both somehow defective and decided we were kindred spirits. She’s the closest I’ve ever come to finding a soul mate. She smokes too much, swears, behaves entirely unlike a lady and I have seen her take more than one biker down with her right hook.”

“She sounds like one helluva gal.”

“Yes. I think she’d hate you.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t hate you… and she can be jealous.”

Castiel found himself staring at Dean again, and somehow he lost his head. Without blinking, he suddenly found himself in Dean’s lap, straddling him, his hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. Dean stared up at him. He looked like he was going to say something smug, but Cas didn’t want to hear it, so he brought their lips together. *******

#destiel #fanfiction #work in progress #dean winchester #castiel novak #vietnam war #AU #WIP #writing #writer #writers block

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crazygirlsworldofbooks · 4 years ago

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Review: Too Good to Be True

“But the irony in unbearable things is that they actually are bearable. They force you to endure what you cannot comprehend enduring. They demand that you sit in unimaginable pain.”

Book: Too Good to Be True

Author: Carola Lovering

My Rating: ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ (5 Stars)

Read: March 16, 2021

Synopsis:

ONE LOVE STORY. TWO MARRIAGES. THREE VERSIONS OF THE TRUTH. Skye Starling is overjoyed when her boyfriend, Burke Michaels, proposes after a whirlwind courtship. Though Skye seems to have the world at her fingertips―she’s smart, beautiful, and from a well-off family―she’s also battled crippling OCD ever since her mother’s death when she was eleven, and her romantic relationships have suffered as a result. But now Burke―handsome, older, and more emotionally mature than any man she’s met before―says he wants her. Forever. Except, Burke isn’t who he claims to be. And interspersed letters to his therapist reveal the truth: he’s happily married, and using Skye for his own, deceptive ends. In a third perspective, set thirty years earlier, a scrappy seventeen-year-old named Heather is determined to end things with Burke, a local bad boy, and make a better life for herself in New York City. But can her adolescent love stay firmly in her past―or will he find his way into her future? On a collision course she doesn’t see coming, Skye throws herself into wedding planning, as Burke’s scheme grows ever more twisted. But of course, even the best laid plans can go astray. And just when you think you know where this story is going, you’ll discover that there’s more than one way to spin the truth.

My Review:

And just like that I have found a new favorite author of mine! I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect with this novel but because it was the thriller pick for Book of the Month Club box, I went with it and I’m so glad I did. I thought it was going to be just like many of the other domestic thrillers I have read recently but it was so much more and insanely unique in its own way. I can honestly say that I haven’t read a domestic thriller like this before. And the story was so well written and thought out completely that I can’t say enough good things about it. I can’t wait to see what Carola Lovering writes in the future and will check out her previous work too!

To begin with, Too Good to Be True centers around three characters, depicted through their unique perspectives and in dual timelines. Perfect man Burke Michaels proposes to his girlfriend Skye and she can’t believe that even with her OCD, she has found the absolute love of her life but is it too good to be true? Things transpire and get out of hand as the character’s multiple truths are revealed but which truth is the actual way the story unfolded? Ahhhh, I loved this plot so much! It was so different and amazingly unique for a domestic thriller and even though it wasn’t completely action packed all throughout, little things were revealed all throughout to keep me on the edge of my seat, even if those things weren’t always the honest truth. I love the way that the story is presented, through the three main characters eyes in different ways and how their stories all intertwine with one another’s. Brilliant.

Secondly, the characterization was superb. I know I’ve said it before but I am a big fan of complete backgrounds for different characters because it shows how they got to be where they presently are in the story and this book did not disappoint on that front at all. All the characters have complete pictures painted of who they are and where they came from and what their motivations stem from in life. They are all so intricate and complex and perfectly imperfect, which makes it that much easier to relate to them, even the least likeable ones. I felt like I got to personally know all of them and by the end of the book they felt like old friends to me.

Thirdly, the writing style along with the decision to present the book in dual timelines and varying perspectives just completely knocked my socks off. It was a genius decision and a remarkably unique way in which to tell the story. I devoured this book and would have read all day if I didn’t have two kids to take care off, that’s for sure. I also loved seeing the past as it unraveled and the future and then how it all came together and to a head in the climax. I can’t even begin to do it justice.

In conclusion, I will be recommending this book to all the thriller lovers in my life because that’s how much this story touched me. I thought it was meaningful and very profound, even aside from it being an amazing thriller novel and possessing all the things I look for in the perfect thriller story. Bravo!

#lovering #too good to be true #favorite #book review

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messier-47 · 3 years ago

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So this is where the politics kick in and it's NOT in the favor of our main characters (i know, shocking)

Izuna has to a lot of time to get fully trained with his assigned Jaeger, Mangekyou, the program isn't just shoving kids into multi-million if not billion dollar robots if the kids are irresponsible or not ready for it. While he's training he's bonding with the other pilots (am tempted to introduce some of the other Naruto characters like Kakashi, Gai, Zabuza, Deirdara, and other interesting freaks of nature cause it'd be funny) and while Izuna is picking up that there's something off with his peers, it's something he could easily ignore.

Madara cannot easily ignore what he's seeing/learning.

The other Handlers manage to corner Madara one day and give him a very thorough rundown of exactly what to expect and how to better handle his pilot. Which is pretty freakin' weird cause aren't all these other Handlers putting too much seriousness in how the stress and potential PTSD is going to affect his younger brother? They don't even know him! Yet still they heavily emphasis top quality care and hyper vigilance to the point where Madara wants to snarkily ask if he should wrap his brother in bubblewrap (and judging by the other handlers, that might just be the thing to do) and then they say something interesting;

"You don't want your pilot ending up like the Senju kid."

Which is certainly unhelpful and further sparks Madara's need to find out more about this kid and how he could help. There's apparently no assigned Handler(???) and no one else seems to keeping watch over the boy (?????) so it's an utter mystery as to why this kid is able to be his own Handler. It's just not right.

He gets told by the janitor.

Some funky old guy with wild white hair and frumpy uniform who pulls out some scrappy note book and giggles weirdly by the name of Jiraiya. The old man tells Madara that there's a reason why the world's top mother henning characters (the Handlers) all had to give up on Tobirama and it's not the boy's fault.

It's Director Senju Butsuma, Head of Operations and General of the entire military program in the fight against aliens. Butsuma doesn't want Tobirama to have another Handler, for reasons unknown, and the man will use every bureaucratic loophole and bullshit assignment to make sure every Handler is turned away.

Well thank you guy who looks like he should live in a swamp, Madara now has enough information to act his plan of attack.

The first is food. Madara starts very very secretly leaving the boy bento boxes wherever he could and crossing his fingers in hope that the boy eats. They first couple of times Tobirama doesn't touch the bento boxes but soon, they start coming back empty. Score 1 for Mada!

In each bento box he makes sure to leave behind his 'signature' a piece of taffy. Why specifically taffy? Personal preference as a 'childhood candy' choice.

So after a while Madara leaves the boy an extra coat layer with a taffy left inside the pocket. Extra woolen socks with taffy placed like a greeting card. A spare blanket with taffy hidden in the folds.

Madara can't get close to the boy cause there's so many eyes watching and who knows who will snitch to Dickass-Butsuma so gotta keep it extra secret.

One day Madara makes a mistake.

You see, taffy candy is Madara's weakness. It's his go-to candy and habit to pop a piece of chewy sweetness in his mouth when he's stressed (perhaps add a little backstory where Madara started smoking as a pre-teen and had to cut the habit?). So when a breech is called and the pilots and Handlers are all called in to wait for assignment, mindlessly, Madara takes out a taffy, unwraps it, and pops the candy in his mouth. Blueberry flavored.

And he looks over to find Tobirama starring at him with an utterly blank expression except his eyes were glowing with life and fire no one has seen in literal months.

The candy wrapper is still caught in Madara's fingers. His cheek still bulges from the taffy sweetness.

The Handler realizes that he's been caught nearly red-handed as the boy's gift giver, if not long-distant Handler.

I got an idea

I got 2 ideas but this is Idea 'Sad Brother time' (name is subject to change)

#my content #fanfic i only hope to write one day #Handler/Pilot!AU #tobirama #madara #Izuna #tw Butsuma #naruto

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spicyskilletsauce-blog · 7 years ago

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Simmer, Part 5

Note: this story includes depictions of contestants on the reality TV show Top Chef. This story is not intended to depict any real-life actions or sexuality of the people portrayed.

M/M Explicit sexual content.

Trigger warnings: breath play. Possible non-con play.

5. What Tyler Saw

The Quickfire challenge the next day had been interesting, but he’d fucked it up. They were supposed to make elevated versions of kids’ cuisine. Tyler had picked spaghetti and meatballs and had somehow thought a pho version made of vegetables would appeal to the kids judging them. It most assuredly had not. But Jesus, was it hard to concentrate. Every time he tried to think about food, his mind kept shifting back to what had happened the night before. Joe Flamm – who was married to a woman – and Joe Sasto, who was more of a wildcard, had done … what? Something, and they’d done it right above him. Last week, Joe Flamm had asked him, abashedly, whether or not he was gay. It wasn’t entirely unexpected; he was a lot more vocal about the dudes he found hot than the women. Those two guys on the cheese farm, for example? One looked like Thor and one looked like a scrappy little Wolverine. Hot as fuck and he’d gone on about them at length in the Bear Den.

Flamm had come to him after Bruce went into the shower. “I thought … you’re married, right? With kids?”

Tyler had grinned. “Nothing that says I can’t find beauty wherever it is.”

Blinking, Flamm asked, “So, what? You’re bi?”

Putting a hand on Flamm’s shoulder, Tyler had said, “I’m a chef. Other than that, I don’t try to label myself.”

Flamm had nodded, still looking puzzled, wandering off to find a beer. Tyler had watched him go, tilting his head in curiosity.

And now: this.

Which wouldn’t do to focus on, of course. He’d super fucked up the Quickfire and he needed to redeem himself for the Elimination Challenge. Which, even without the extra stuff he had to parse in his brain, was proving next to impossible. The dish had to reflect your heritage in some way. Tyler was expecting this one, but it didn’t usually come till later in the season, so it threw him for a loop. Heritage? What heritage? He had no grandparents who’d stood around the stove with him, meticulously showing him the Old Ways of cooking, no recipes passed down from generation to generation. He and Flamm had bonded a little over their mutual love of classic cookbooks, but that wasn’t his heritage. It was borrowed.

In the end, he decided to reflect the Southern California cuisine he’d grown up on and reflect his Swedish roots with Swedish meatballs and scalloped pancakes. It might be the worst or the best idea: either the judges would applaud him for his diverse background or demonize him for having too many ideas. They’d see.

All that was on his mind the night before the challenge. The food had been purchased, ready to be cooked. Tonight was the night to go over your recipes, to bounce ideas off the other chefs, to have a drink and chill out before the hardcore anxiety of the challenge ahead.

But Tyler didn’t want to do any of that. He glanced around and tapped Bruce on the arm. “Hey, have you seen Joe?”

Bruce, who had his own thoughts to contend with (his child was going to be born while he was out here in Denver), shook out of his reverie on the couch and said, “Which one?”

“I don’t know, either of them.”

Bruce shrugged and went back to his recipe. “Haven’t seen them.”

Tyler did a quick, hopefully inconspicuous tour of the ground floor. Everyone else was here, cooking or drinking or talking. All the other chefs seemed deeply settled into what they were doing. The perfect time to slip away. How was it possible that Tyler was the only person to have noticed?

Holding his breath, he mounted the stairs. The door to the Bear Den was shut closed. All the other doors up here were wide open. Curiouser and curiouser. He put his hand on the doorknob, and for a second, closed his eyes. He remembered the sound of the springs above him, and how Flamm had made that deep, low growl at one point, muffled, like it was into his pillow. Whatever Sasto had been doing had obviously felt great. And the way the mattress above him had bulged out, flattened, bulged out, flattened. Tyler had a feeling that they weren’t fucking, not exactly, but it was something like that, something similar. Then, seeing Sasto run out of the room completely naked like that. Holy shit. Had he ever noticed how built Joe Sasto was? How tight his ass seemed? How all-over hairy he was? No, he’d noticed none of those things. He’d been so focused on the competition and the rules and missing home and his restaurants.

In the bottom bunk, Tyler had felt his dick grow hard and insistent, refusing to get soft until he heard Flamm start to snore. It didn’t take long to jerk off and get off and to fall back asleep.

He was hard again now.

As quietly as possible, he turned the knob to the Bear Den.

Joe Sasto was sitting on Bruce’s bed. His clothes were in a little pile on the floor. The man really was jacked; all that body hair couldn’t hide how well-built Sasto’s chest was. The chest only held his gaze for a moment. Flamm was on his knees before him, back to Tyler, also completely naked. His face was buried in Sasto’s crotch. His wide, bare shoulders quivered and hunched. His bare ass kept leaving the floor momentarily, then coming back down.

“Don’t worry about going all the way down,” Sasto said, putting a light hand on the back of Flamm’s head. “It’s big and you’re new. You—” He looked up and saw Tyler standing there, the door now closed tightly behind him. For a moment, his eyes filled with pure animal panic.

Then Tyler put one tattooed finger up to his lips, and started to unzip his fly. For a long moment more, Sasto only looked. Then one corner of his mouth turned up in a grin, and he threw back his head.

“Lick my nuts, Joe,” he murmured. “You okay with that?”

Flamm looked up and there was a pop sound as Sasto’s massive dick came out of his mouth. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m sorry I’m not very good at this.”

“You’re fucking fantastic,” Sasto told him. “Now lick my nuts.”

Tyler, who had meant only to take his dick out of his jeans and jerk away, now decided to do as the Romans did. As quietly as he could, he slid his shoes and socks off, putting them in a small pile. He added his pants and shirt to it, and now stood by the door, stark naked, wearing only his glasses and his myriad tattoos. His cock was leaking furiously, a faucet you’d never quite get around to fixing.

Sasto said, “You like that?”

Flamm looked up. “Yeah. Fuck, I don’t get it. You taste so fucking good. I—”

“Close your eyes and come on up here. Keep your eyes closed. I wanna try something.”

Cautiously, Flamm said, “Oh … okay. It’s not going to hurt, is it?”

Then, unexpectedly, Sasto leaned down – fuck, he could bend himself in half! – and kissed Flamm on the forehead. “I’d never hurt you.”

Obediently, Flamm closed his eyes and let himself be spread out across Bruce’s bed. He was a sight to behold. When Tyler was into guys, they were usually smaller dudes, or cut like Sasto. But there was something undeniable about Flamm. The tattoo on his inner arm, for one. Tyler was a sucker for men with tatts. But the swell of his belly, rising up from the bed; all he could think of was the way that belly had kept convexing the mattress above him the night before. Seeing it in motion – even with all that fabric and spring in between – had made it something erotic, an object of lust, a thing of desire.

Joe Sasto looked up and met Tyler’s eyes, and beckoned him forward with one finger. Nerves jangling, aware that he was as naked now as Sasto was in this room the night before, Tyler approached. His cock stuck out from his body like an exclamation point. And how apt was that? This whole situation deserved exclamation. What was he even doing?

“Sasto?” Flamm murmured. “What’s going on?”

“Do you trust me?” Sasto asked.

Flamm smiled that 100-watt smile he was so known for around the Top Chef house. “Not even a little.”

“Good. Keep your eyes closed and enjoy this.”

Sasto glanced up at Tyler and pointed at his own nipples, nodding toward Flamm. Tyler understood, but hesitated. When was the last time he’d touched a guy? Years, maybe. Years, and he’d never done anything remotely like this. How would Flamm react? Was there something between these two that he was going to fuck up? But goddamn, was this a fucking turnon. The fact that Flamm had no idea he was here … it was weird, it was insane, but it was erotic as hell. He reached his tattooed arms out, and gently, so gently, he brushed the tips of his index fingers across Flamm’s large nipples. The big man shuddered, and made one of those deep, thick sounds he’d made last night when Sasto had been in his bunk. Involuntarily, Tyler’s cock jumped, dripping more precum.

Flamm’s did the same, his nipples seeming to be connected to a string in Chicago Joe’s cock. “Fuuuuu…,” Flamm whispered, squirming, the precum puddling just beneath his navel. Tyler couldn’t take his eyes off that cock. His was about the same length, but fuck Flamm’s cock was thick. Years suddenly seemed like too long a span without having put a dick in his mouth, and he knew just which one he wanted to start with.

But this was Joe Sasto’s show, and Tyler had no problem taking orders from him, despite his age and smaller size. Sasto was head chef. He was sous-chef. And Joe Flamm? He was dessert.

As if in slow motion, Sasto closed his eyes and went down on Flamm’s thick cock. In utter fascination, Tyler watched it disappear; Sasto moved down the shaft slowly, confidently, stopping halfway, then pushing down further, mingling that wild mustache into Joe Flamm’s pubes. It seemed impossible, that huge cock plunging all the way down Sasto’s throat. Sasto was too small and that dick was just too big; Tyler could only stare, his thumbs moving restlessly over Flamm’s nipples.

“Oh,” Flamm muttered. “Oh, God. Oh fucking God.”

Sasto’s shoulders jumped, and Tyler knew what was happening at once. He wasn’t just swallowing Flamm’s cock: he was gagging on it. On purpose? It had to be, right? Nothing was holding him down there. Sasto’s shoulders hiked up again, and he came off of Flamm’s dick, breathing heavily. “Goddamn, Joe.”

“Don’t stop.”

“Hold on a second.”

Sasto pointed to Tyler, then to Flamm’s cock. The look in his eyes wasn’t a question. This was a command. A warm tingle flooded through him; he was used to being in charge of everything, and taking orders from this guy with the dark eyes and curled mustache excited him on a base level. Tyler didn’t wait to be asked again. Sidestepping, Tyler took a moment to admire Joe Flamm’s pulsing, leaking cock, now slick with Sasto’s spit. Then he swallowed it, getting lost in the mingled taste of Sasto’s mouth and Flamm’s dick. He tried valiantly to go all the way down as Sasto had, but the thing was just too huge. Instead, he worked as far down as he could go, moving his tongue up and down and side to side, remembering all the tricks of cocksucking in a rush of lust. His own dick screamed to cum but he didn’t dare touch it. Instead he pressed his lips harder against Flamm’s dick, increasing the suction. On wild instinct, he reached down and caressed Flamm’s balls, heavy and as huge as his dick.

Flamm bucked a little then, coming off the bed and stuffing that cock down Tyler’s throat whether he wanted it or not. He choked at once and pulled his head off … and the panic struck him again. Joe Flamm’s eyes were wide open and he was staring, shocked, from Sasto to Tyler and back again. They’d been found out.

“What … what?”

“Tyler walked in,” Sasto said calmly. “I thought he might want to join us. Turns out, I was right.” Sasto put a hand on Flamm’s shoulder and looked deeply into his eyes. There was something going on here, something beyond just sex. Tyler wondered vaguely if he should go … then stopped himself. He’d sort out feelings later. He wasn’t leaving this room until he got off.

Still, he knew he was the side dish here. He put his own hand on Flamm’s other shoulder.

“Is this cool?” Sasto asked. Maybe a little late to ask, but there was something in Flamm’s eyes that said Sasto had done something like this before. Oh … oh fuck. Last night? Had Flamm not known Sasto was going to come in? Damn, Sasto, you’re a devious little fucker. But … was Flamm grinning? Was he, what? Into this? The surprise of it?

“You … want me to finish, Joe?” Tyler asked. Joe Flamm turned to him, and that grin was unmistakable.

“I’m going to blow soon,” he said quietly, then turned red, as if he couldn’t believe he was saying it.

“That I can handle.”

He went back to Flamm’s cock, sealing it again with his lips and sucking as hard as he could while moving up and down that amazing shaft. Once again, he reached below and massaged Flamm’s balls. A steady stream of precum leaked from Flamm’s dick and went right down Tyler’s throat, sweet and salty and better than anything he could remember in his experimental past. He didn’t know what Sasto was doing, but he had an idea it had something to do with Flamm’s nipples; Flamm was groaning deeply, almost hungrily, grinding his body against the bed. Tyler could listen to that for hours. Everything in him felt warm and hard and ready.

In his hand, Flamm’s balls suddenly tightened. His dick expanded, and Tyler increased his speed, down, up, down, up, and all at once, Joe Flamm’s cock exploded. Cum gushed out in a thick rush, and he swallowed every drop. Then it happened again, a second shot, maybe even bigger. Then again. Then again. How much cum did this guy have in him? It didn’t matter. Tyler was lost in the taste of it, the feel of it shooting down his throat. No matter how much he got, he wanted more.

Joe Flamm, trying his hardest not to cry out, grunted deep in the back of his throat, the sound almost angry, guttural. Tyler got up off his dick and stood looking down at Joe Flamm. Sasto stood there, his fingers still on Flamm’s nipples, looking unsure for the first time.

“How was that?” he asked.

“Get over here,” Flamm said in that deep voice. Tyler obeyed. At once, Flamm’s hand shot out and grabbed Tyler’s cock in his big, meaty hand. With his other hand, he grabbed Joe Sasto’s cock, Sasto’s eyes going wide as a grin broke out over his face.

Flamm closed his eyes again, and began to jerk both of them off at the same time. Maybe because of how quick his hands were in the kitchen, this didn’t seem to present a problem for him. He expertly moved his hands in tandem, then in unison. Tyler’s body shuddered, his eyes falling closed. He balled his hands into fists, then unclenched. Lightning coursed through him, his balls slapping pleasurably against Flamm’s fist. It wasn’t going to take long, not long at all. His knees went watery. His balls seized. He opened his eyes.

Tyler stared at Joe Sasto, who was gulping in air, his mouth moving, his hands resting on Flamm’s chest and belly. A low groan emerged from Tyler’s throat. A second later, cum slammed out of him, splattering across Joe Flamm’s face and splashing against Sasto’s hairy balls. For the first time, he noticed Sasto’s cock, not as thick as Flamm’s but somehow longer. God, could he handle that? If he tried, could he?

Then Sasto was shooting, his cum painting Flamm’s face, mingling with Tyler’s own. He felt some of it splash against his own cock as he shot once more, a less violent spasm, coating Flamm’s cheek. Sasto was still going to, more forcefully, and still Tyler felt some drops gush against his body.

Tyler’s eyes left Sasto’s, and drifted down to Flamm’s face. “Hey, bud,” he said, and grinned.

Flamm smiled; then his brow furrowed. “I’ve never had cum on my face before, guys. I don’t know if I like it.”

Sasto went to his pile of clothes and dug out his underwear. Now he was right next to Tyler. Without thinking, Tyler reached out and put his hand around Sasto’s still-leaking cock. He could never get all the way down … but damn if he didn’t want to try.

As Sasto moved to start wiping Flamm’s face off, Flamm said, “I liked the rest of it, though. A lot.”

“Me too,” Sasto said.

“Me too,” Tyler said. “Can we do that again?”

Flamm grinned. “Next time, I get to blow you guys.”

Tyler looked to Sasto, who looked back with that devilish half-grin. “Hell yes.”

Hey friends: if you like what you’re reading, why not kick your favorite writer a couple bucks?

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