#sir barley the bold | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

literaryvein-reblogs · 3 months ago

Text

The Lady of Shalott is a painting of 1888 by the English painter John William Waterhouse. It is a representation of the ending of Alfred, Lord Tennyson's 1832 poem of the same name.

The Lady of Shalott (1832) By Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Part I

On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And thro' the field the road runs by To many-tower'd Camelot; The yellow-leaved waterlily The green-sheathed daffodilly Tremble in the water chilly Round about Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens shiver. The sunbeam showers break and quiver In the stream that runneth ever By the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot. Four gray walls, and four gray towers Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shalott.

Underneath the bearded barley, The reaper, reaping late and early, Hears her ever chanting cheerly, Like an angel, singing clearly, O'er the stream of Camelot. Piling the sheaves in furrows airy, Beneath the moon, the reaper weary Listening whispers, ' 'Tis the fairy, Lady of Shalott.'

The little isle is all inrail'd With a rose-fence, and overtrail'd With roses: by the marge unhail'd The shallop flitteth silken sail'd, Skimming down to Camelot. A pearl garland winds her head: She leaneth on a velvet bed, Full royally apparelled, The Lady of Shalott.

Part II

No time hath she to sport and play: A charmed web she weaves alway. A curse is on her, if she stay Her weaving, either night or day, To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be; Therefore she weaveth steadily, Therefore no other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott.

She lives with little joy or fear. Over the water, running near, The sheepbell tinkles in her ear. Before her hangs a mirror clear, Reflecting tower'd Camelot. And as the mazy web she whirls, She sees the surly village churls, And the red cloaks of market girls Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, An abbot on an ambling pad, Sometimes a curly shepherd lad, Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad, Goes by to tower'd Camelot: And sometimes thro' the mirror blue The knights come riding two and two: She hath no loyal knight and true, The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights To weave the mirror's magic sights, For often thro' the silent nights A funeral, with plumes and lights And music, came from Camelot: Or when the moon was overhead Came two young lovers lately wed; 'I am half sick of shadows,' said The Lady of Shalott.

Part III

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves, He rode between the barley-sheaves, The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves, And flam'd upon the brazen greaves Of bold Sir Lancelot. A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd To a lady in his shield, That sparkled on the yellow field, Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glitter'd free, Like to some branch of stars we see Hung in the golden Galaxy. The bridle bells rang merrily As he rode down from Camelot: And from his blazon'd baldric slung A mighty silver bugle hung, And as he rode his armour rung, Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather, The helmet and the helmet-feather Burn'd like one burning flame together, As he rode down from Camelot. As often thro' the purple night, Below the starry clusters bright, Some bearded meteor, trailing light, Moves over green Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd; On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode; From underneath his helmet flow'd His coal-black curls as on he rode, As he rode down from Camelot. From the bank and from the river He flash'd into the crystal mirror, 'Tirra lirra, tirra lirra:' Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom She made three paces thro' the room She saw the water-flower bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume, She look'd down to Camelot. Out flew the web and floated wide; The mirror crack'd from side to side; 'The curse is come upon me,' cried The Lady of Shalott.

Part IV

In the stormy east-wind straining, The pale yellow woods were waning, The broad stream in his banks complaining, Heavily the low sky raining Over tower'd Camelot; Outside the isle a shallow boat Beneath a willow lay afloat, Below the carven stern she wrote, The Lady of Shalott.

A cloudwhite crown of pearl she dight, All raimented in snowy white That loosely flew (her zone in sight Clasp'd with one blinding diamond bright) Her wide eyes fix'd on Camelot, Though the squally east-wind keenly Blew, with folded arms serenely By the water stood the queenly Lady of Shalott.

With a steady stony glance— Like some bold seer in a trance, Beholding all his own mischance, Mute, with a glassy countenance— She look'd down to Camelot. It was the closing of the day: She loos'd the chain, and down she lay; The broad stream bore her far away, The Lady of Shalott.

As when to sailors while they roam, By creeks and outfalls far from home, Rising and dropping with the foam, From dying swans wild warblings come, Blown shoreward; so to Camelot Still as the boathead wound along The willowy hills and fields among, They heard her chanting her deathsong, The Lady of Shalott.

A longdrawn carol, mournful, holy, She chanted loudly, chanted lowly, Till her eyes were darken'd wholly, And her smooth face sharpen'd slowly, Turn'd to tower'd Camelot: For ere she reach'd upon the tide The first house by the water-side, Singing in her song she died, The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony, By garden wall and gallery, A pale, pale corpse she floated by, Deadcold, between the houses high, Dead into tower'd Camelot. Knight and burgher, lord and dame, To the planked wharfage came: Below the stern they read her name, The Lady of Shalott.

They cross'd themselves, their stars they blest, Knight, minstrel, abbot, squire, and guest. There lay a parchment on her breast, That puzzled more than all the rest, The wellfed wits at Camelot. 'The web was woven curiously, The charm is broken utterly, Draw near and fear not,—this is I, The Lady of Shalott.'

#literature #poetry #art #the lady of shalott #alfred tennyson #john william waterhouse #writeblr #oil on canvas

54 notes · View notes

soberlovey · 1 year ago

Text

out of the ashes that burn.

JOHN WICK + F!READER father/daugher. (PLATONIC)

THIS WILL BE A ONGOING SERIES (if continued)

mild cussing, yah yah..

You placed your wet hand on the brick wall, it making a dark hand print where it lied. Your eyes shined in the dark streetlights, tears running down your cheeks while your arms struggled to stay upright while pressing against the rough, white, brick wall.

The streets were emptier than normal, however this was the part of the city where barley anyone was. Especially at night. By a lot of people you knew, this part of the city was called "Dead Of Night"

Your jacket stuck to your skin, humid and wet. Your black long sleeved shirt grey from the streetlight shining on it. The rain pattered against your head, large, heavy droplets descending from the dark clouds in the sky.

Running from a car nearly hitting you because you decided to jay-walk is scary as hell.

Hands off the wall, you took a step back as the weight of the damp sleeves of your shirt weighed your arms down. You took out a sharpie and held it to the wall, eyes searching for any nearby cameras.

Nothing, but thats not a surprise.

Taking a moment to think what to write, the puddles near you splashing from the raindrops, giving the slightest inspiration to you.

"Dont jay-walk. You'll drown in your own blood."

Warning people is fun, hm?

You shoved the marker back in your pocket, then looked back up at the writing on the wall, reading it over and over again.

Then, that loop of reading got interrupted.

Footsteps echoed from the corner of the building you stood near, they were audible, but you couldn't hear them that well.

You figured it was most likely the mailman. You were near a neighborhood afterall.

Dismissing it, you decided to walk off.

Curiosity grew, you were aware this person was behind you. You had to look back.

Your head spun, looking back as the shocked mailman jumped.

"Oh my gosh! Ma'am im so sorry."

The mailman yelped.

The guilt rose from your heart, you felt horrible. You didnt mean to scare the poor guy.

"Oh, dear. Sorry. I thought you were following me."

The mailman's words started to jumble and he stuttered as he tried to explain.

"I-I mean you were heading to a certain address.. I thought."

"No. Its fine."

You were a bit tired from talking to this socially unstable mailman, obviously.

"Listen, Ma'am I have to deliver some mail-"

The drop of a slightly heavy envelope interrupted him mid sentence.

You read the address, a bell rung in your head as the familiar name struck your memory.

"Oh, The Continental? I know where that is."

You picked the envelope, it sounded like a few quarters or something were in there.

"Say, how bout' I do you a favor.. and I drop this off at The Continental."

You smirked as the mailman's expression changed to a look of concern.

"Ma'am. Its my job. I got it."

Really? Well, you did have to stop by the store near that dumb hotel anyway. Why not have something fun to do while you were on your way.

"No, sir. I insist. Just tell your boss you got it, alright!"

You didn't even give him a chance to respond, but it was clear he agreed.

As you walked, the wind gusted against your clothes even though the rain stopped. Your body, still wet sent chills along your back.

The urge to open the envelope grew, well because what seemed to be in that envelope didnt seem like a rent due notice or a letter from the owner.

Some coins and a letter didn't seem like that at all.

"I have to open it"

You whispered under your cold breath, as the transparent gust left your mouth from the coldness of the air.

Using your nail, you opened the envelope for a piece of folded paper and two big, golden, coins to greet you.

The light reflected off them as the light from the reflection glazed your eyes at the slightest.

You grabbed the piece of paper and held it up to your eyes.

"John Wick"

Written across the front of the folded paper in black, bold pen.

Hm, whos that?

Opening up the paper, the dark words seemed as less professional than a eviction notice or anything. This was obviously a letter to John Wick, whoever that is.

Your eyes went back and fourth across the paper as you read the letter.

"Dear Jonathan, I and my crew are aware of the situation you have gotten yourself in over the past few weeks, and fortunately we stand with you. We have made sure to help you the best we can by providing you with ammunition and weaponry. We pray for you and your safety."

"Well, no sincerely? I guess we'll never know how this belongs to. Not my problem. Unless this "John Wick" Becomes my problem."

You whispered with every ounce of pride, it was clear no one could hear you. But it wasn't necessary for anyone to hear your prideful remark.

18 notes · View notes

wistfulweaverwoman · 1 year ago

Text

My URL is a tongue-in-cheek reference to Anne Shirley, specifically when she play acts as the Lilymaid, Elaine, from Lord Alfred Tennyson’s poem, The Lady of Shalott.

Her annoyance that Gilbert Blythe of all people should find her clinging to the pylons and rescue her, and worse that her friends should find it so romantic, endears this scene to me. It’s one of my most favorites from the entire series, right up there with “Rilla MY Rilla?”.

Wistfulweaverwoman specifically comes from the line “there she weaves by night and day, a magic web with colors gay”, while my AO3 is Lilymaid.

Here is the poem in its entirety:

The Lady of Shalott (1842)

BY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

Part I

On either side the river lie

Long fields of barley and of rye,

That clothe the wold and meet the sky;

And thro' the field the road runs by

To many-tower'd Camelot;

And up and down the people go,

Gazing where the lilies blow

Round an island there below,

The island of Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,

Little breezes dusk and shiver

Thro' the wave that runs for ever

By the island in the river

Flowing down to Camelot.

Four gray walls, and four gray towers,

Overlook a space of flowers,

And the silent isle imbowers

The Lady of Shalott.

By the margin, willow veil'd,

Slide the heavy barges trail'd

By slow horses; and unhail'd

The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd

Skimming down to Camelot:

But who hath seen her wave her hand?

Or at the casement seen her stand?

Or is she known in all the land,

The Lady of Shalott?

Only reapers, reaping early

In among the bearded barley,

Hear a song that echoes cheerly

From the river winding clearly,

Down to tower'd Camelot:

And by the moon the reaper weary,

Piling sheaves in uplands airy,

Listening, whispers " 'Tis the fairy

Lady of Shalott."

Part II

There she weaves by night and day

A magic web with colours gay.

She has heard a whisper say,

A curse is on her if she stay

To look down to Camelot.

She knows not what the curse may be,

And so she weaveth steadily,

And little other care hath she,

The Lady of Shalott.

And moving thro' a mirror clear

That hangs before her all the year,

Shadows of the world appear.

There she sees the highway near

Winding down to Camelot:

There the river eddy whirls,

And there the surly village-churls,

And the red cloaks of market girls,

Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,

An abbot on an ambling pad,

Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad,

Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad,

Goes by to tower'd Camelot;

And sometimes thro' the mirror blue

The knights come riding two and two:

She hath no loyal knight and true,

The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights

To weave the mirror's magic sights,

For often thro' the silent nights

A funeral, with plumes and lights

And music, went to Camelot:

Or when the moon was overhead,

Came two young lovers lately wed:

"I am half sick of shadows," said

The Lady of Shalott.

Part III

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,

He rode between the barley-sheaves,

The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,

And flamed upon the brazen greaves

Of bold Sir Lancelot.

A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd

To a lady in his shield,

That sparkled on the yellow field,

Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,

Like to some branch of stars we see

Hung in the golden Galaxy.

The bridle bells rang merrily

As he rode down to Camelot:

And from his blazon'd baldric slung

A mighty silver bugle hung,

And as he rode his armour rung,

Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather

Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,

The helmet and the helmet-feather

Burn'd like one burning flame together,

As he rode down to Camelot.

As often thro' the purple night,

Below the starry clusters bright,

Some bearded meteor, trailing light,

Moves over still Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;

On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;

From underneath his helmet flow'd

His coal-black curls as on he rode,

As he rode down to Camelot.

From the bank and from the river

He flash'd into the crystal mirror,

"Tirra lirra," by the river

Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom,

She made three paces thro' the room,

She saw the water-lily bloom,

She saw the helmet and the plume,

She look'd down to Camelot.

Out flew the web and floated wide;

The mirror crack'd from side to side;

"The curse is come upon me," cried

The Lady of Shalott.

Part IV

In the stormy east-wind straining,

The pale yellow woods were waning,

The broad stream in his banks complaining,

Heavily the low sky raining

Over tower'd Camelot;

Down she came and found a boat

Beneath a willow left afloat,

And round about the prow she wrote

The Lady of Shalott.

And down the river's dim expanse

Like some bold seër in a trance,

Seeing all his own mischance—

With a glassy countenance

Did she look to Camelot.

And at the closing of the day

She loosed the chain, and down she lay;

The broad stream bore her far away,

The Lady of Shalott.

Lying, robed in snowy white

That loosely flew to left and right—

The leaves upon her falling light—

Thro' the noises of the night

She floated down to Camelot:

And as the boat-head wound along

The willowy hills and fields among,

They heard her singing her last song,

The Lady of Shalott.

Heard a carol, mournful, holy,

Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,

Till her blood was frozen slowly,

And her eyes were darken'd wholly,

Turn'd to tower'd Camelot.

For ere she reach'd upon the tide

The first house by the water-side,

Singing in her song she died,

The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,

By garden-wall and gallery,

A gleaming shape she floated by,

Dead-pale between the houses high,

Silent into Camelot.

Out upon the wharfs they came,

Knight and burgher, lord and dame,

And round the prow they read her name,

The Lady of Shalott.

Who is this? and what is here?

And in the lighted palace near

Died the sound of royal cheer;

And they cross'd themselves for fear,

All the knights at Camelot:

But Lancelot mused a little space;

He said, "She has a lovely face;

God in his mercy lend her grace,

The Lady of Shalott."

#also wistfulweaverwoman is a nod to my love of writing #to weave magical stories #also reminds me of the moirai weaving the threads of life #wistfulweaverwoman #lilymaid #anne of green gables #anne shirley

17 notes · View notes

notbeingnoticed · 1 year ago

Text

On either side the river lie

Long fields of barley and of rye,

That clothe the wold and meet the sky;

And thro' the field the road runs by

To many-tower'd Camelot;

The yellow-leaved waterlily

The green-sheathed daffodilly

Tremble in the water chilly

Round about Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens shiver.

The sunbeam showers break and quiver

In the stream that runneth ever

By the island in the river

Flowing down to Camelot.

Four gray walls, and four gray towers

Overlook a space of flowers,

And the silent isle imbowers

The Lady of Shalott.

Underneath the bearded barley,

The reaper, reaping late and early,

Hears her ever chanting cheerly,

Like an angel, singing clearly,

O'er the stream of Camelot.

Piling the sheaves in furrows airy,

Beneath the moon, the reaper weary

Listening whispers, ' 'Tis the fairy,

Lady of Shalott.'

The little isle is all inrail'd

With a rose-fence, and overtrail'd

With roses: by the marge unhail'd

The shallop flitteth silken sail'd,

Skimming down to Camelot.

A pearl garland winds her head:

She leaneth on a velvet bed,

Full royally apparelled,

The Lady of Shalott.

Part II

No time hath she to sport and play:

A charmed web she weaves alway.

A curse is on her, if she stay

Her weaving, either night or day,

To look down to Camelot.

She knows not what the curse may be;

Therefore she weaveth steadily,

Therefore no other care hath she,

The Lady of Shalott.

She lives with little joy or fear.

Over the water, running near,

The sheepbell tinkles in her ear.

Before her hangs a mirror clear,

Reflecting tower'd Camelot.

And as the mazy web she whirls,

She sees the surly village churls,

And the red cloaks of market girls

Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,

An abbot on an ambling pad,

Sometimes a curly shepherd lad,

Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad,

Goes by to tower'd Camelot:

And sometimes thro' the mirror blue

The knights come riding two and two:

She hath no loyal knight and true,

The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights

To weave the mirror's magic sights,

For often thro' the silent nights

A funeral, with plumes and lights

And music, came from Camelot:

Or when the moon was overhead

Came two young lovers lately wed;

'I am half sick of shadows,' said

The Lady of Shalott.

Part III

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,

He rode between the barley-sheaves,

The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,

And flam'd upon the brazen greaves

Of bold Sir Lancelot.

A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd

To a lady in his shield,

That sparkled on the yellow field,

Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,

Like to some branch of stars we see

Hung in the golden Galaxy.

The bridle bells rang merrily

As he rode down from Camelot:

And from his blazon'd baldric slung

A mighty silver bugle hung,

And as he rode his armour rung,

Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather

Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,

The helmet and the helmet-feather

Burn'd like one burning flame together,

As he rode down from Camelot.

As often thro' the purple night,

Below the starry clusters bright,

Some bearded meteor, trailing light,

Moves over green Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;

On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;

From underneath his helmet flow'd

His coal-black curls as on he rode,

As he rode down from Camelot.

From the bank and from the river

He flash'd into the crystal mirror,

'Tirra lirra, tirra lirra:'

Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom

She made three paces thro' the room

She saw the water-flower bloom,

She saw the helmet and the plume,

She look'd down to Camelot.

Out flew the web and floated wide;

The mirror crack'd from side to side;

'The curse is come upon me,' cried

The Lady of Shalott.

Part IV

In the stormy east-wind straining,

The pale yellow woods were waning,

The broad stream in his banks complaining,

Heavily the low sky raining

Over tower'd Camelot;

Outside the isle a shallow boat

Beneath a willow lay afloat,

Below the carven stern she wrote,

The Lady of Shalott.

A cloudwhite crown of pearl she dight,

All raimented in snowy white

That loosely flew (her zone in sight

Clasp'd with one blinding diamond bright)

Her wide eyes fix'd on Camelot,

Though the squally east-wind keenly

Blew, with folded arms serenely

By the water stood the queenly

Lady of Shalott.

With a steady stony glance—

Like some bold seer in a trance,

Beholding all his own mischance,

Mute, with a glassy countenance—

She look'd down to Camelot.

It was the closing of the day:

She loos'd the chain, and down she lay;

The broad stream bore her far away,

The Lady of Shalott.

As when to sailors while they roam,

By creeks and outfalls far from home,

Rising and dropping with the foam,

From dying swans wild warblings come,

Blown shoreward; so to Camelot

Still as the boathead wound along

The willowy hills and fields among,

They heard her chanting her deathsong,

The Lady of Shalott.

A longdrawn carol, mournful, holy,

She chanted loudly, chanted lowly,

Till her eyes were darken'd wholly,

And her smooth face sharpen'd slowly,

Turn'd to tower'd Camelot:

For ere she reach'd upon the tide

The first house by the water-side,

Singing in her song she died,

The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,

By garden wall and gallery,

A pale, pale corpse she floated by,

Deadcold, between the houses high,

Dead into tower'd Camelot.

Knight and burgher, lord and dame,

To the planked wharfage came:

Below the stern they read her name,

The Lady of Shalott.

They cross'd themselves, their stars they blest,

Knight, minstrel, abbot, squire, and guest.

There lay a parchment on her breast,

That puzzled more than all the rest,

The wellfed wits at Camelot.

'The web was woven curiously,

The charm is broken utterly,

Draw near and fear not,—this is I,

The Lady of Shalott.'

10 notes · View notes

captious-solarian · 3 months ago

Text

My poem for August is The Lady of Shalott (revised version) by Alfred Tennyson (1842, English).

On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And thro' the field the road runs by To many-tower'd Camelot; And up and down the people go, Gazing where the lilies blow Round an island there below, The island of Shalott. Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver Thro' the wave that runs for ever Flowing down to Camelot. Four gray walls, and four gray towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shalott. By the margin, willow veil'd, Slide the heavy barges trail'd By slow horses; and unhail'd The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd Skimming down to Camelot: But who hath seen her wave her hand? Or at the casement seen her stand? Or is she known in all the land, The Lady of Shalott? Only reapers, reaping early In among the bearded barley, Hear a song that echoes cheerly From the river winding clearly, Down to tower'd Camelot: And by the moon the reaper weary, Piling sheaves in uplands airy, Listening, whispers "'Tis the fairy Lady of Shalott."

There she weaves by night and day A magic web with colours gay. She has heard a whisper say, A curse is on her if she stay To look down on Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other case hath she, The Lady of Shalott. And moving thro' a mirror clear That hangs before her all the year, Shadows of the world appear. There she sees the highway near Winding down to Camelot. There the river eddy whirls, And there the surly village-churls, And the red cloaks of market girls Pass onwards from Shalott. Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, An abbot on an ambling pad, Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad, Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad, Goes by to tower'd Camelot; And sometimes thro' the mirror blue The knights come riding two and two: She hath no loyal knight and true, The Lady of Shalott. But in her web she still delights To weave the mirror's magic sights, For often thro' the silent nights A funeral, with plumes and lights And music, went to Camelot: Or when the moon was overhead, Came two young lovers lately wed: "I am half sick of shadows", said The Lady of Shalott.

III

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves, He rode between the barley-sheaves, The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves, And flamed upon the brazen greaves Of bold Sir Lancelot. A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd To a lady in his shield, That sparkled on the yellow field, Beside remote Shalott. The gemmy bridle glitter'd free, Like to some branch of stars we see Hung in the golden Galaxy. The bridle bells rang merrily As he rode down to Camelot: And from his blazon'd baldric slung A mighty silver bugle hung, And as he rode his armour rung, Beside remote Shalott. All in the blue unclouded weather Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather, The helmet and the helmet-feather Burn'd like one burning flame together, As he rode down to Camelot. As ofen thro' the purple night, Below the starry clusters bright, Some bearded meteor, trailing light, Moves over still Shalott. His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd; On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode; From underneath his helmet flow'd His coal-black curls as on he rode, As he rode down to Camelot. From the bank and from the river He flash'd into the crystal mirror, "Tirra lirra", by the river Sang Sir Lancelot. She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces thro' the room, She saw the water-lily bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume, She look'd down to Camelot. Out flew the web and floated wide; The mirror crack'd from side to side; "The curse is come upon me", cried The Lady of Shalott.

In the stormy east-wind straining, The pale yellow woods were waning, The broad stream in his banks complaining, Heavily the low sky raining Over tower'd Camelot; Down she came and found a boat Beneath a willow left afloat, And round about the prow she wrote The Lady of Shalott. And down the river's dim expanse Like some bold seër in a trance, Seeing all his own mischance— With a glassy countenance Did she look to Camelot. And at the closing of the day She loosed the chain, and down she lay; The broad stream bore her far away The Lady of Shalott. Lying, robed in snowy white That loosely flew to left and right— The leaves upon her falling light— Thro' the noises of the night She floated down to Camelot: And as the boat-head would along The willowy hills and fields among, They heard her singing her last song, The Lady of Shalott. Heard a carol, mournful, holy, Chanted loudly, chanted lowly, Till her blood was frozen slowly, And her eyes were darken'd wholly, Turn'd to tower'd Camelot. For ere she reach'd upon the tide The first house by the water-side Singing in her song she died, The Lady of Shalott. Under tower and balcony, By garden-wall and gallery, A gleaming shape she floated by, Dead-pale between the houses high, Silent into Camelot. Out upon the wharfs they came, Knight and burgher, lord and dame, And round the prow they read her name, The Lady of Shalott. Who is this? And what is here? And in the lighted palace near Died the sound of royal cheer; And they cross'd themselves for fear, All the knights at Camelot: But Lancelot mused a little space; He said, "She has a lovely face; G–d in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott."

See also

Loreena McKennitt singing this poem wonderfully

Hark, a Vagrant! ruining all the poetry

Sympathetic Opposition's The Unfacedoxxed Egirl in Literature

take the 2024 dostoyevsky-official challenge: every month, learn one poem by heart. it could be in any language, it could be poetry you already know, it could be poetry you're reading for the first time, it could be a sonnet, it could be a ballad: go wild (but for this, i recommend choosing canonical poetry in your chosen language, not poetry in translation, nor something new). above all, poetry, language charged with meaning to the ultimate degree, is meant to be read aloud, to be felt with the tongue. by the end of the year, you'll have a better intuitive understanding of the poet's craft, of the possibility and beauty of language, an improved reading style, and, through the memorization process, a deep knowledge of each chosen poem—and you'll have committed 12 poems to heart, sitting around for any occasion, keeping you company wherever you go

#2024 dostoyevsky-official challenge #poetry #art #Alfred Tennyson #The Lady of Shalott #The Lady of Shalott (1842)

13K notes · View notes

libidomechanica · 7 months ago

Text

Untitled Composition # 11622

A limerick sequence

Ten years! Each rose witt is weakenesse; and yet no sinners. Will’ in overplus; more the dark, and sacrilege, three yards from above the throne and Heaven, to ease me.

We cherished bee through the evening is acute. That is part museum of the soul of many a greet despitus. So you ran and hir likyng. And I, that weeps.

When, with such pryde and yit was a mayden Queene. How near the bow, and still aver the little hour! Sick, am I. But of one if short years we’ve caught at one Will’ more.

All the shirt since he gives nothing air. Now wol I kisse thee, hence removed. Because thou couldst print more, and death. Thou seist to hunt, I put him out of my hair to wake me.

Why dyest thou art gone! My fourthe housbonde for barley bare. And not so much as dare approach thee, as help me God, in erthe I wolde he failure ours? And made Love is laid.

And briers! Against the imperfections were ful glade to attract his enemie. Smoothed by long familiar men to-night in every wind that nothing but dust what is wys.

You couldst thou still Paradise had she bore; new objects light laid pausefully misplaced, and I don’t want to song and with all the galleys there. Or, while I place yours.

When her lord she be the report,—’tis not with bleeding hearts; but sicken of another wolde leden al hir lond, whatever they were game. Laid up, and flies away.

She did but dream passed you, whose quiet would corrupt my saint to be clenė, body and soul that I took for terme, my spring-days, with arms outstretch vnto the shadow steals.

Dost thou hast been, shalt forgo, maugree thyne yen. The white flowers bene defast. That I shal seyn. Makes me sick, weak, paranoid. Be fair, thou verray knave, theirs for us.

Weary of the pope hadde we on honde. Let this bold brere with the Oake, for thanne, thapostel was hym liketh to his homely cottage- smell, and to threat: ne euer among.

Have in thy voice back on 100K a week and cold, though you cannot chuse your bounty cherished bee through many a sturdy stoure, so now his arms. So am I kidding?

To lose their fear, and all think men love was half so fair. And thanne is al and talking of a tale or two that Socrates hadde I levere was thine eyes already.

That sweets are, ther water dewe. While the bedclothes rich, and bounds his gift; creating of the fayre; they haten that had largely displese. Ah foolish old man bespake.

But ah, of ours! But Venus falleth ther Mercurie is reckon’d none: their imputed grace, that white, we easily know, since then: ten years! A day of day-old pastries.

There; I know. And dost thou shalt make earth teach thee too well—long, long stairway again& become the mountain- top does this pond and straight to hit this moment of twenty, Tam!

Loved by the brae, Sir, slides over the story, first hour, first accents of returne to herself, yet they which I your plaint, caused hym best, if not I? And as they do light!

And it is fair gift in men’s views, that gentil text kan I wel understand is never find him. And I have his. That soft-luring creatures the blesse! I would encline.

Which like those through the fan be fynd, and hadde with heavy with youre wyl it were tame. Before to one extremes of the day, they give him power by the musk carnation?

In the blissful visions and alternate and blamed hymself afyre. Showing in the blind do see save that gladly view the ocean is folded and I seek it too.

By all aspects that keeps its lonely heart; but of one, which wel could not half a kiss by you, sir, find our death’s neighbourhood, nor all these field of snow; even on thine?

Good-morning, from vice, but his enemie. You knew not? To wedde, ne no man wole, his proude weede, as most vsen Ambitious brere, for wel I havė noon envie thogh mayden Queene.

Alley cats expended breathing air. And yet be jealous of what a man; with cold bene annoied. So should her girlond dight, and I, that this world, firm, quiet find.

Nay, I will say she hanged on the kingdom, safeliest when she doing? Ennobling new-found therfore no womman, but me. Her Lord him so sore, and not in my arms.

What she her self might take at her hand as the limits pent, unable to say, how it oft; skin as smooth dark wave slides along the white evening, sleeps so peacefully!

I koude he me how oon Latumyus compleyned unto good time, can increasing pains she soon exhaled, and me. This is my sommer worne away are deaf and black.

Was neuer pype of Phyllis prayse: but Phyllis is myne housbonde I wolde, as the wast Oake. In his growing, the brown hair! To be right gracious as the river ran on.

With this olde shepheards all, then of the shirt for a book, pardee! Whoever hath his flute his head, and bids her adieu. That wont to worke me more, and made hir housbonde.

And, as I am a man, taut, elderly, carefully upon hire to wood? The Sunne, Up stirte the star to every part, I could see no objects light, I will Yes.

Yet tikled I his heart.—Poor Martha! Good-morrow to this sentence, but ther as he sat by thy tale. Two right he seeks, but if you did move to-night, curled once again!

But ah vnwise and I woke disconsolation thus. But home him hasted with precious stones, and attending down Bristol Street, the figure was on thee; yet once I knew.

—A barbell or a bowling ball, and from the fire? Though all thing, walking of a tale of truth, with thankful hearts, Love beguiles, and wostow why? Where were deed tomorwe!

I have squeezed the pity comes into my skin, the evil tongue. As the clouded pond’s surface. And but with blossomes faintest that every dyssh and hire malencolie.

Out of sight:—must a little hearts might be taken. And the language, and only what spite of your crooked heart. How did her Maker praised her brain to time yet the large.

When I have seen from my reach for you. Then to the power to lend base subject that would encline. It is a though rosy lips and cold autumn holds to its crisis?

Twas beten for a quarter. I didn’t stay to her children too; for charge her treasures are. The bounden in their death’s neighbors had to keep dropping mouths, that nowe vpright hands.

In every holour wol hire have; she may none haukes lure. Time to think men love and all they quite shrinking myself alone. Improve: the bush my better to impart.

Where thy yeares, whether an’ a’ shouldst print more, my Silvia; I confess, do take a wanton Nimph for hir handes and future fears; tomorrow I may no more.

I dance in a sowes nose. Hee, in whom Love did not spie! And lete his old thorn, the talks. A love to another, or the young Eulalie’s met on a time and goost.

For to hold thee feeble I am going off ordinary walls, the spot, the rurall song of care those Cherrie-tree whose ranckling ball, and from greeuance. Helen, Helen!

My Love’s sweet ane an’ twenty, Tam! And laid her up for then where life’s morningless and revisions, before us, knew we would content; a simple, fire-side the ground.

A bridge, where a few graveyard cross the night. So that rode at her sin. That Crist ne wente nevere folkes fare? I do not think our selves are all broken in, the worst tattoo.

May nothing repels thee the mind. He mighty, for aught we sought it would go, piping too much more, my Silvia, do I meant at all. To speak of this, how should do.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #126 texts #limerick sequence

1 note · View note

odelia-i · 1 year ago

Text

The Lady of Shalott (1832)

BY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

Part I

On either side the river lie

Long fields of barley and of rye,

That clothe the wold and meet the sky;

And thro' the field the road runs by

To many-tower'd Camelot;

The yellow-leaved waterlily

The green-sheathed daffodilly

Tremble in the water chilly

Round about Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens shiver.

The sunbeam showers break and quiver

In the stream that runneth ever

By the island in the river

Flowing down to Camelot.

Four gray walls, and four gray towers

Overlook a space of flowers,

And the silent isle imbowers

The Lady of Shalott.

Underneath the bearded barley,

The reaper, reaping late and early,

Hears her ever chanting cheerly,

Like an angel, singing clearly,

O'er the stream of Camelot.

Piling the sheaves in furrows airy,

Beneath the moon, the reaper weary

Listening whispers, ' 'Tis the fairy,

Lady of Shalott.'

The little isle is all inrail'd

With a rose-fence, and overtrail'd

With roses: by the marge unhail'd

The shallop flitteth silken sail'd,

Skimming down to Camelot.

A pearl garland winds her head:

She leaneth on a velvet bed,

Full royally apparelled,

The Lady of Shalott.

Part II

No time hath she to sport and play:

A charmed web she weaves alway.

A curse is on her, if she stay

Her weaving, either night or day,

To look down to Camelot.

She knows not what the curse may be;

Therefore she weaveth steadily,

Therefore no other care hath she,

The Lady of Shalott.

She lives with little joy or fear.

Over the water, running near,

The sheepbell tinkles in her ear.

Before her hangs a mirror clear,

Reflecting tower'd Camelot.

And as the mazy web she whirls,

She sees the surly village churls,

And the red cloaks of market girls

Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,

An abbot on an ambling pad,

Sometimes a curly shepherd lad,

Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad,

Goes by to tower'd Camelot:

And sometimes thro' the mirror blue

The knights come riding two and two:

She hath no loyal knight and true,

The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights

To weave the mirror's magic sights,

For often thro' the silent nights

A funeral, with plumes and lights

And music, came from Camelot:

Or when the moon was overhead

Came two young lovers lately wed;

'I am half sick of shadows,' said

The Lady of Shalott.

Part III

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,

He rode between the barley-sheaves,

The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,

And flam'd upon the brazen greaves

Of bold Sir Lancelot.

A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd

To a lady in his shield,

That sparkled on the yellow field,

Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,

Like to some branch of stars we see

Hung in the golden Galaxy.

The bridle bells rang merrily

As he rode down from Camelot:

And from his blazon'd baldric slung

A mighty silver bugle hung,

And as he rode his armour rung,

Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather

Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,

The helmet and the helmet-feather

Burn'd like one burning flame together,

As he rode down from Camelot.

As often thro' the purple night,

Below the starry clusters bright,

Some bearded meteor, trailing light,

Moves over green Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;

On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;

From underneath his helmet flow'd

His coal-black curls as on he rode,

As he rode down from Camelot.

From the bank and from the river

He flash'd into the crystal mirror,

'Tirra lirra, tirra lirra:'

Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom

She made three paces thro' the room

She saw the water-flower bloom,

She saw the helmet and the plume,

She look'd down to Camelot.

Out flew the web and floated wide;

The mirror crack'd from side to side;

'The curse is come upon me,' cried

The Lady of Shalott.

Part IV

In the stormy east-wind straining,

The pale yellow woods were waning,

The broad stream in his banks complaining,

Heavily the low sky raining

Over tower'd Camelot;

Outside the isle a shallow boat

Beneath a willow lay afloat,

Below the carven stern she wrote,

The Lady of Shalott.

A cloudwhite crown of pearl she dight,

All raimented in snowy white

That loosely flew (her zone in sight

Clasp'd with one blinding diamond bright)

Her wide eyes fix'd on Camelot,

Though the squally east-wind keenly

Blew, with folded arms serenely

By the water stood the queenly

Lady of Shalott.

With a steady stony glance—

Like some bold seer in a trance,

Beholding all his own mischance,

Mute, with a glassy countenance—

She look'd down to Camelot.

It was the closing of the day:

She loos'd the chain, and down she lay;

The broad stream bore her far away,

The Lady of Shalott.

As when to sailors while they roam,

By creeks and outfalls far from home,

Rising and dropping with the foam,

From dying swans wild warblings come,

Blown shoreward; so to Camelot

Still as the boathead wound along

The willowy hills and fields among,

They heard her chanting her deathsong,

The Lady of Shalott.

A longdrawn carol, mournful, holy,

She chanted loudly, chanted lowly,

Till her eyes were darken'd wholly,

And her smooth face sharpen'd slowly,

Turn'd to tower'd Camelot:

For ere she reach'd upon the tide

The first house by the water-side,

Singing in her song she died,

The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,

By garden wall and gallery,

A pale, pale corpse she floated by,

Deadcold, between the houses high,

Dead into tower'd Camelot.

Knight and burgher, lord and dame,

To the planked wharfage came:

Below the stern they read her name,

The Lady of Shalott.

They cross'd themselves, their stars they blest,

Knight, minstrel, abbot, squire, and guest.

There lay a parchment on her breast,

That puzzled more than all the rest,

The wellfed wits at Camelot.

'The web was woven curiously,

The charm is broken utterly,

Draw near and fear not,—this is I,

The Lady of Shalott.'

The Lady of Shalott (1832)

BY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

Part I

On either side the river lie

Long fields of barley and of rye,

That clothe the wold and meet the sky;

And thro' the field the road runs by

To many-tower'd Camelot;

The yellow-leaved waterlily

The green-sheathed daffodilly

Tremble in the water chilly

Round about Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens shiver.

The sunbeam showers break and quiver

In the stream that runneth ever

By the island in the river

Flowing down to Camelot.

Four gray walls, and four gray towers

Overlook a space of flowers,

And the silent isle imbowers

The Lady of Shalott.

Underneath the bearded barley,

The reaper, reaping late and early,

Hears her ever chanting cheerly,

Like an angel, singing clearly,

O'er the stream of Camelot.

Piling the sheaves in furrows airy,

Beneath the moon, the reaper weary

Listening whispers, ' 'Tis the fairy,

Lady of Shalott.'

The little isle is all inrail'd

With a rose-fence, and overtrail'd

With roses: by the marge unhail'd

The shallop flitteth silken sail'd,

Skimming down to Camelot.

A pearl garland winds her head:

She leaneth on a velvet bed,

Full royally apparelled,

The Lady of Shalott.

Part II

No time hath she to sport and play:

A charmed web she weaves alway.

A curse is on her, if she stay

Her weaving, either night or day,

To look down to Camelot.

She knows not what the curse may be;

Therefore she weaveth steadily,

Therefore no other care hath she,

The Lady of Shalott.

She lives with little joy or fear.

Over the water, running near,

The sheepbell tinkles in her ear.

Before her hangs a mirror clear,

Reflecting tower'd Camelot.

And as the mazy web she whirls,

She sees the surly village churls,

And the red cloaks of market girls

Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,

An abbot on an ambling pad,

Sometimes a curly shepherd lad,

Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad,

Goes by to tower'd Camelot:

And sometimes thro' the mirror blue

The knights come riding two and two:

She hath no loyal knight and true,

The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights

To weave the mirror's magic sights,

For often thro' the silent nights

A funeral, with plumes and lights

And music, came from Camelot:

Or when the moon was overhead

Came two young lovers lately wed;

'I am half sick of shadows,' said

The Lady of Shalott.

Part III

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,

He rode between the barley-sheaves,

The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,

And flam'd upon the brazen greaves

Of bold Sir Lancelot.

A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd

To a lady in his shield,

That sparkled on the yellow field,

Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,

Like to some branch of stars we see

Hung in the golden Galaxy.

The bridle bells rang merrily

As he rode down from Camelot:

And from his blazon'd baldric slung

A mighty silver bugle hung,

And as he rode his armour rung,

Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather

Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,

The helmet and the helmet-feather

Burn'd like one burning flame together,

As he rode down from Camelot.

As often thro' the purple night,

Below the starry clusters bright,

Some bearded meteor, trailing light,

Moves over green Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;

On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;

From underneath his helmet flow'd

His coal-black curls as on he rode,

As he rode down from Camelot.

From the bank and from the river

He flash'd into the crystal mirror,

'Tirra lirra, tirra lirra:'

Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom

She made three paces thro' the room

She saw the water-flower bloom,

She saw the helmet and the plume,

She look'd down to Camelot.

Out flew the web and floated wide;

The mirror crack'd from side to side;

'The curse is come upon me,' cried

The Lady of Shalott.

Part IV

In the stormy east-wind straining,

The pale yellow woods were waning,

The broad stream in his banks complaining,

Heavily the low sky raining

Over tower'd Camelot;

Outside the isle a shallow boat

Beneath a willow lay afloat,

Below the carven stern she wrote,

The Lady of Shalott.

A cloudwhite crown of pearl she dight,

All raimented in snowy white

That loosely flew (her zone in sight

Clasp'd with one blinding diamond bright)

Her wide eyes fix'd on Camelot,

Though the squally east-wind keenly

Blew, with folded arms serenely

By the water stood the queenly

Lady of Shalott.

With a steady stony glance—

Like some bold seer in a trance,

Beholding all his own mischance,

Mute, with a glassy countenance—

She look'd down to Camelot.

It was the closing of the day:

She loos'd the chain, and down she lay;

The broad stream bore her far away,

The Lady of Shalott.

As when to sailors while they roam,

By creeks and outfalls far from home,

Rising and dropping with the foam,

From dying swans wild warblings come,

Blown shoreward; so to Camelot

Still as the boathead wound along

The willowy hills and fields among,

They heard her chanting her deathsong,

The Lady of Shalott.

A longdrawn carol, mournful, holy,

She chanted loudly, chanted lowly,

Till her eyes were darken'd wholly,

And her smooth face sharpen'd slowly,

Turn'd to tower'd Camelot:

For ere she reach'd upon the tide

The first house by the water-side,

Singing in her song she died,

The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,

By garden wall and gallery,

A pale, pale corpse she floated by,

Deadcold, between the houses high,

Dead into tower'd Camelot.

Knight and burgher, lord and dame,

To the planked wharfage came:

Below the stern they read her name,

The Lady of Shalott.

They cross'd themselves, their stars they blest,

Knight, minstrel, abbot, squire, and guest.

There lay a parchment on her breast,

That puzzled more than all the rest,

The wellfed wits at Camelot.

'The web was woven curiously,

The charm is broken utterly,

Draw near and fear not,—this is I,

The Lady of Shalott.'

#lady of shallot poem

1 note · View note

cdmagic1408 · 2 years ago

Text

Onward Fan Art Shout Out - 11!!!

Theme: Barley Lightfoot, Rock Star 🎸🎶

We’re "UP TO 11" as the trope says!

I’d best describe it in one word, and that’s chaos

and who better at being chaos than our very own Barley? Or rather Barley just being Barley? Or better yet...Barley rockin' out?!

Barley is, without a doubt, a rock star! from being an amazing and protective older brother/father figure to his baby bro, Ian to putting himself out there and not being afraid to be him! so here's a fanart collection of Barley showing off his awesome and lovable Barley energy! 🤘

and yes, I had planned to share this post last week, but as I said earlier I wanted to find more art for this particular theme, which luckily I was able to do! it's just too good!! so here's what I originally had in mind for last Friday—right here, right now 😉

Artists

jamie_phut - "on the guitar, Barley Lightfoot!" a taste of young Barley to kick things off! this redraw of him from the deleted scene is very well done! so cute and colorful! I love it!

starlight_crafter - this was drawn all the way back in 2019 right after the teaser trailer came out! I really like the style of this pencil drawing and even though we weren't sure what to expect of Barley yet at the time, this artist captures him and his vibe brilliantly!

cheesembs - I love the simple use of colors here and Barley's expression!! he really looks like he's into what he's playing here! this whole picture just makes me smile

cgbkart - ahhhh air guitar!!! this piece has such fun energy! and perfectly encapsulates one of Barley's many rules of questing: use what you've got. if there ain't no guitar or radio to make music, do it yourself!

umutciplak - I love how endearingly goofy Barley's smile is in this drawing! while also giving off the metal horns on both hands! to me it says: "it's all good, bro!" also his many pins are incorporated very nicely too!

van_thuart - I would hope that this would be the thumbnail for a potential hours long onward lo-fi music video because I'm getting those vibes with this drawing and its peaceful purple background specifically!

coma.troversy / @comatroversy - YEAH!!! that's just what I hear Barley yelling out when I see this piece. Cheering for his brother, listening and dancing to a banger track, accomplishing a heroic deed, you name it! there's so much personality here!

magnetoburrito / @magneto-burrito - ngl I really love seeing Barley in a sweatshirt! and yes I agree, he probably would listen to the band, Rush! I love how happy and chill he is in all of these drawings!

rustedbelt - I never really thought about Barley playing music on an acoustic guitar before but this is a very cool idea! he looks so at peace and relaxed strumming it here in this piece, it's very soothing!

sanyaarter - I love the all the blush details here! not just on the face and the ears but on the fingers too as he's giving the peace sign! also I'm just a huge fan of peace signs anyway ✌️ ☮️

#reblogs encouraged!#onward #fanart friday #fanart #not my art #onward fanart #pixar fanart #disney fanart #instagram art #pixar onward #onward fandom #pixar #disney pixar #barley lightfoot #onward barley #sir barley the bold #cd’s onward fan art shout out #ofaso #cdmagic1408

25 notes · View notes

youre-ackermine · 2 years ago

Text

The Lady Of Shalott

Part I

On either side the river lie

Long fields of barley and of rye,

That clothe the wold and meet the sky;

And thro' the field the road runs by

To many-tower'd Camelot;

The yellow-leaved waterlily

The green-sheathed daffodilly

Tremble in the water chilly

Round about Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens shiver.

The sunbeam showers break and quiver

In the stream that runneth ever

By the island in the river

Flowing down to Camelot.

Four gray walls, and four gray towers

Overlook a space of flowers,

And the silent isle imbowers

The Lady of Shalott.

Underneath the bearded barley,

The reaper, reaping late and early,

Hears her ever chanting cheerly,

Like an angel, singing clearly,

O'er the stream of Camelot.

Piling the sheaves in furrows airy,

Beneath the moon, the reaper weary

Listening whispers, ' 'Tis the fairy,

Lady of Shalott.'

The little isle is all inrail'd

With a rose-fence, and overtrail'd

With roses: by the marge unhail'd

The shallop flitteth silken sail'd,

Skimming down to Camelot.

A pearl garland winds her head:

She leaneth on a velvet bed,

Full royally apparelled,

The Lady of Shalott.

Part II

No time hath she to sport and play:

A charmed web she weaves alway.

A curse is on her, if she stay

Her weaving, either night or day,

To look down to Camelot.

She knows not what the curse may be;

Therefore she weaveth steadily,

Therefore no other care hath she,

The Lady of Shalott.

She lives with little joy or fear.

Over the water, running near,

The sheepbell tinkles in her ear.

Before her hangs a mirror clear,

Reflecting tower'd Camelot.

And as the mazy web she whirls,

She sees the surly village churls,

And the red cloaks of market girls

Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,

An abbot on an ambling pad,

Sometimes a curly shepherd lad,

Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad,

Goes by to tower'd Camelot:

And sometimes thro' the mirror blue

The knights come riding two and two:

She hath no loyal knight and true,

The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights

To weave the mirror's magic sights,

For often thro' the silent nights

A funeral, with plumes and lights

And music, came from Camelot:

Or when the moon was overhead

Came two young lovers lately wed;

'I am half sick of shadows,' said

The Lady of Shalott.

Part III

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,

He rode between the barley-sheaves,

The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,

And flam'd upon the brazen greaves

Of bold Sir Lancelot.

A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd

To a lady in his shield,

That sparkled on the yellow field,

Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,

Like to some branch of stars we see

Hung in the golden Galaxy.

The bridle bells rang merrily

As he rode down from Camelot:

And from his blazon'd baldric slung

A mighty silver bugle hung,

And as he rode his armour rung,

Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather

Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,

The helmet and the helmet-feather

Burn'd like one burning flame together,

As he rode down from Camelot.

As often thro' the purple night,

Below the starry clusters bright,

Some bearded meteor, trailing light,

Moves over green Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;

On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;

From underneath his helmet flow'd

His coal-black curls as on he rode,

As he rode down from Camelot.

From the bank and from the river

He flash'd into the crystal mirror,

'Tirra lirra, tirra lirra:'

Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom

She made three paces thro' the room

She saw the water-flower bloom,

She saw the helmet and the plume,

She look'd down to Camelot.

Out flew the web and floated wide;

The mirror crack'd from side to side;

'The curse is come upon me,' cried

The Lady of Shalott.

Part IV

In the stormy east-wind straining,

The pale yellow woods were waning,

The broad stream in his banks complaining,

Heavily the low sky raining

Over tower'd Camelot;

Outside the isle a shallow boat

Beneath a willow lay afloat,

Below the carven stern she wrote,

The Lady of Shalott.

A cloudwhite crown of pearl she dight,

All raimented in snowy white

That loosely flew (her zone in sight

Clasp'd with one blinding diamond bright)

Her wide eyes fix'd on Camelot,

Though the squally east-wind keenly

Blew, with folded arms serenely

By the water stood the queenly

Lady of Shalott.

With a steady stony glance—

Like some bold seer in a trance,

Beholding all his own mischance,

Mute, with a glassy countenance—

She look'd down to Camelot.

It was the closing of the day:

She loos'd the chain, and down she lay;

The broad stream bore her far away,

The Lady of Shalott.

As when to sailors while they roam,

By creeks and outfalls far from home,

Rising and dropping with the foam,

From dying swans wild warblings come,

Blown shoreward; so to Camelot

Still as the boathead wound along

The willowy hills and fields among,

They heard her chanting her deathsong,

The Lady of Shalott.

A longdrawn carol, mournful, holy,

She chanted loudly, chanted lowly,

Till her eyes were darken'd wholly,

And her smooth face sharpen'd slowly,

Turn'd to tower'd Camelot:

For ere she reach'd upon the tide

The first house by the water-side,

Singing in her song she died,

The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,

By garden wall and gallery,

A pale, pale corpse she floated by,

Deadcold, between the houses high,

Dead into tower'd Camelot.

Knight and burgher, lord and dame,

To the planked wharfage came:

Below the stern they read her name,

The Lady of Shalott.

They cross'd themselves, their stars they blest,

Knight, minstrel, abbot, squire, and guest.

There lay a parchment on her breast,

That puzzled more than all the rest,

The wellfed wits at Camelot.

'The web was woven curiously,

The charm is broken utterly,

Draw near and fear not,—this is I,

The Lady of Shalott.'

Lord Alfred Tennyson - "Works" - 1832

Paintings : various portraits of the Lady of Shalott by John William Waterhouse

#poésie #poetry #the lady of shalott #tennyson #lord alfred tennyson #paintings #john william waterhouse #waterhouse #pre raphaelism #pre raphaelite #poem #val loves poetry

18 notes · View notes

ub-sessed · 3 years ago

Text

More fun canal-building lore:

In the making of canals, it is the general custom to employ gangs of hands who travel from one work to another and do nothing else.

These banditti known in many parts of England by the name of ‘Navies’ or ‘Navigators’, and in others by that of ‘Bankers’, are generally the terror of the surrounding country; they are as completely a class by themselves as the Gipsies. Possessed of all the daring recklessness of the Smuggler, without any of his redeeming qualities, their ferocious behaviour can only be equalled by the brutality of their language. It may be truly said, their hand is against every man, and before they have been long located, every man’s hand is against them; and woe befall any woman, with the slightest share of modesty, whose ears they can assail.

From long being known to each other, they in general act in concert, and put in defiance any local constabulary force; consequently crimes of the most atrocious character are common, and robbery, without an attempt at concealment, has been an everyday occurrence, wherever they have been congregated in large numbers.

--Peter Lecount, The History of the Railways connecting London and Birmingham, 1839.

I am a navvy bold, that’s tramped the country round, sir, / To get a job of work, where any can be found, sir. / I left my native home, my friends and my relations, / To ramble up and down and work in various stations.

--"Navvy on the Line", 19th-century ballad

Now when that we come to the bottom run, / We fill our barrows right up to our chin, / We fill up the barrows, right up, breast high, / And if you can’t wheel it, another will try. / And when that we come to the main plank wheel, / We lower our hands and stick fast on our heels; / For if the plank does bend or go, / Our ganger on top cries, ‘Look out below’.

On Saturday night we receive our pay; / It’s then to the ale-house we go straightway. / And each sits his sweetheart upon his knee, / And we treat them well with the barley brew. / But when several months are gone and past, / Those pretty young girls got thick in the waist. / They run to buy candles, they learn lullabies, / And wish that they still had their dear banker boys.

--"The Navigators", 19th-century song

I got these quotes from Navvies, by Anthony Burton (2012).

@dahliavandare

#navvies #canal building #history #Anthony Burton #British history #canal mania

3 notes · View notes

suresaint-moved · 3 years ago

Text

The Young Witcher

I want to talk about young witcher Zelda and how her role as a monster slayer is greatly romanticised by her, in a very “Sir Lancelot in his gold shining armour comes to save the damsel in distress” kind of way (actually, the entire description of Sir Lancelot from Alfred Tennyson’s ‘The Lady of Shalott’, 1832, is very reminiscent of how a twenty-something year old Zelda would have envisioned her role as a witcher). And it is an entirely fantastical illusion but she’s naive, and wilfully ignorant, and envisions herself as a hero. Because of course she is! She slays monsters! She protects people! Why shouldn’t she be lauded a hero? And praised? And be showered in gifts? She’s blind to peoples’ fear of her, has no reason to think that they would be intimidated by her because she knows in her mind that she does not intend to cause them harm. All of the warnings that the likes of Eskel and Vesemir give her regarding human opinions on witchers falls on deaf ears, because she has never experienced any of the vitriol from people as they say she will. (You could argue that, for the most part, as she starts her journey into the world of monster hunting that she really does have only ‘good’ experiences with contractors etc.,) but that inevitably comes to its end at some point. Because it has to. Because she has to learn her lessons, like every youthful, brazen and arrogant person must.

As she reaches the more impoverished and remote villages throughout the Continent, peoples views and beliefs on witchers (hexers, wiccans, witchman) is more devout or superstitious, less “educated” compared to the bigger cities with their more contemporary and “civilised” ways of thinking. As a young witcher in her early to mid twenties, she approaches one village and is overjoyed by how welcoming they are of her. Praising her, thanking her, offering her food and drink and a warm place to stay. Pretty women are batting their eyes at her and asking her questions about her adventures. It goes to her head because she craves the attention, and she trusts them because she has had no reason not to. She’s untouchable because she’s a hero, and who would want to hurt a hero? Zelda spends the night with two village women, and it is great in the beginning as they strip her of her things, her swords, her clothes, until she feels a sharp punch to her side mid-kiss and looks down to see a small knife plunged into her body. She doesn’t remember the rest of the night, but to this day she is haunted by the image of herself, naked and vulnerable, coated in filth and her own blood in the middle of the village like some poor animal, clutching at her wound, surrounded by villagers with hate filled eyes… and it shattered the illusion of her being this dashing, untouchable Sir Lancelot-like monster slayer for good.

But played a large part in making her the witcher she is in later life.

I’ll add the excerpt from The Lady of Shalott below if anyone wants to read it.

Part III A bow-shot from her bower-eaves, He rode between the barley-sheaves, The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves, And flam'd upon the brazen greaves Of bold Sir Lancelot. A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd To a lady in his shield, That sparkled on the yellow field, Beside remote Shalott. The gemmy bridle glitter'd free, Like to some branch of stars we see Hung in the golden Galaxy. The bridle bells rang merrily As he rode down from Camelot: And from his blazon'd baldric slung A mighty silver bugle hung, And as he rode his armour rung, Beside remote Shalott. All in the blue unclouded weather Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather, The helmet and the helmet-feather Burn'd like one burning flame together, As he rode down from Camelot. As often thro' the purple night, Below the starry clusters bright, Some bearded meteor, trailing light, Moves over green Shalott. His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd; On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode; From underneath his helmet flow'd His coal-black curls as on he rode, As he rode down from Camelot. From the bank and from the river He flash'd into the crystal mirror, 'Tirra lirra, tirra lirra:' Sang Sir Lancelot.

#headcanon. / hope resonates in her chest.#verse: the witcher. / wolves asleep amidst the trees.#honestly thanks to grey / @monstriiss #for allowing me to brain storm this about young witcher zel!

3 notes · View notes

bluezey · 4 years ago

Text

Tiana: so, you're a voodoo man, huh?

Ian: the term is wizard

Barley: yes! My brother, Sir Iandore of Lightfoot, wizard of New Mushroomton! And I, Sir Barley the Bold, warrior prince of the clan Lightfoot!

Charlotte: did you say prince? 😁

Ian and Tiana: oh no 😳🤭

---

Now that I think about it, Charlotte and Barley would make a fun little friendship, maybe more

#pixar onward #sir iandore of lightfoot #ian lightfoot #barley lightfoot #disney princess and the frog

15 notes · View notes

shiftynightshade · 4 years ago

Text

[Chat: The Jedi Orders Problem Children: Has Been Opened!]

Thing 2: holy shit I forgot this thing existed

Trigger Happy: pff aah yes ye ol good days of tormenting adults

Thing 1: And ignoring our trauma! Quite the experience if I do say so myself.

Quinlan, Use Psychic Touch!: force obi u using grammer in a chat like that gives me a headache

Thing 1: And your lack of brain cells gives me a headache, but we don’t talk about that, do we Quinlan?

Quinlan, Use Psychic Touch!: i- WOW U DIDN’T HAVE TO COME FOR ME LIKE THAT OBES

Fuck Adults: wejdhjk theres nothing like waking up to obi wan just throwing shade like that

Sick of Your Shit: Well I mean… Quinaln was asking for it

Queen: Oh goodness, Garen why did you have to re open the Sith cursed chat?

Trigger Happy: :o

Best Raisin: The Queen has arrived!!

Thing 1: Hi Lumi, honestly should we even question what goes on in Garen’s head these days?

Queen: I guess not, much like Quinlan Garen sacrificed all of his braincells to you and Bant

Quinlan, Use psychic Touch!: what is this? Bullying garen and quinlan hours??

Queen: Of Course

Best Raisin: When isin’t it bullying quinlan and Garen hours?

Trigger Happy: should it be anthing else

Fuck Adults: obviously

Sick of You Shit: Yes

WHEAT: Yup

Acid Puddle: You two are the only ones in this chat without any braincells, so of course we’re gonna bully you

Thing 2: DID YOU TWO SERIOUSL COME ONLINE JUST TO ROAST ME AND QUIN?!?!?!

Wheat: Certainly

Quinlan, Use psychic Touch!: OBI YOUR BROTHERS ARE BULLIES

Thing 1: y’all hear something?

Trigger Happy: wow cant believe obi just murdered quinlan

Quinlan, Use psychic Touch!: quit tellin’ everyone im dead!

Fuck Adults: Its almost like you can still hear his voice

Quinlan, Use psychic Touch!: wow guess ill go and make out with fox now

Thing 1: You do that, Cody’s just pinged me and added all of our new shinies into the 212th chat.

Best Raisin: I’m surprised obi hasn’t adopted them all yet.

Sick of Your Shit: bold of you to assume he hasn’t already emotionally adopted them.

WHEAT: okay that’s fair

[Chat: 212th Comms: has Been Opened!]

[Feeling Glorious has added Firework, Spinner, Comet and Feather to the Chat! ]

Feeling Glorious: Welcome to the unofficial 212 comm lines shines, you’re one of us now. Ranks and regs don’t mean shit here so feel free to refer to us by or names.

Sunshine Brother: Welcome!

The Favourite: Hi!

Grumpy Brother: Oh force theres two of them

Feather: Thanks sirs, but who is who???

Feeling Glorious: Right. Roll Call! @Everyone State your name, pronouns and a fact about yourself.

Feeling Glorious: I’m Kote, or better known as Cody, I go by he/him pronouns and I have used a lightsaber before.

Spinner: :O Really!?

Sunshine Brother: YEAH It was awesome to watch! I’m Waxer, he/him and Boil and I accidentally adopted a young twi’lek girl named Numa as a little sister back on Ryloth

Grumpy Brother: Im Boil, he/him and I got my name because I spilt boiling water over my arm and hand when I was still a cadet n Kamino.

Barley: Barlex, he/they and I once sucker punched General Kenobi in the throat

Comet: !!!

Firework: HOW DI YOU NOT GET DE COMISSIONED!?

Barley: kenobi’s just pretty chill like that

Curlicue: Names Helix, he/him, medic and Ihave dragged our general to medbay more times than I can count

Comet: that’s kinda concerning

Shifter Of Gears: Gearshift, they/them, and I once hid in the actual engine of the Negotiator during a game of hide and seek

CRYStal Clear: Crys, he/him and I dyed my hair blond but it now looks like it’s a goldish yellow

Spinner: nice vod

OverShot: Longshot, he/him I shot the clanker bitch himself in the face

Snaptrap: Trapper he/him and I got my name from how quickly I could both make and detect traps compared the the rest of my batchmates.

Feeling Glorious: We love and appreciate you Trapper

Snaptrap: UvU

Grumpy Brother: don’t appreciate THAT THOUGH

I’m Like An Onion, I have Layers: Peel, they/them and I once peeled and ate an entire onion like an apple without a single reaction.

Snaptrap: it was terrifying

Grog: Gregor, he/him and I’m the 212ths main source of moonshine.

The Favourite: I’m Wooley! I go by he/him pronouns and the general’s teaching me how to knit and crochet!

Feather: holy fuck your precious

Comet: I guess we introduce ourselves now????

Comet: well, im Comet, I prefer she/her pronouns and I own a sniper with comet decals all over it

Feather: I’m Feather, he/they and I got my name from having and I quote ‘feather light steps’ during stealth training

Firework: Right, I’m Firework, she/they and I love to paint!

The Favourite: ! Another artist? YES

Spinner: hye im Spinner he/him and no matter how much I spin I cant get diy for some weird reason.

Feeling Glorious: right, Waxer, you know what to do!

Sunshine Brother: Yessir!

[User: Sunshine Brother: Has changed Feather’s name to: Dreamcatcher!:]

[User: Sunshine Brother: Has changed Comet’s name to: Knock-off Shooting Star!:]

[User: Sunshine Brother: Has changed Spinner’s name to: You Spin Me Right 'Round!:]

[User: Sunshine Brother: Has changed Firework’s name to :Bang Bang!:]

Feeling Glorious: Oh yeah, one more thing

Bang Bang: ?

The Favourite: @Stewed Ginger General!

You Spin Me Right ‘Round: the generals in the chat!?!?!?

Stewed Ginger: Indeed I am Spinner!

You Spin Me Right ‘Round: :HE USES OUR NAMES?!?!? @ Feeling Glorious:

Feeling Glorious: :Yup, he gets sad when we refer to ourselves as numbers:

Stewed Ginger: Right, well I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi, I go go by he/him pronouns and I know over five different languages :)

The Favourite: Hi General!

Snaptrap: Hi general!

Stewed Ginger: Hi boys!

Bang Bang: Uh General, what’s the meaning behind your user, if yo don’t mind me asking?

Stewed Ginger: I don’t mind at all Firework, but its not really creative. My user is just the beginning f my home planet Stewjon and my Hair colour.

Bang Bang: ah thank you sir!

Stewed Ginger: well how about we all meet in one of the rec rooms and get to know each other? I’m sure it will be beneficial for all of us!

Feeling Glorious: Meet you all in rec room 2 shinies!

[User :Feeling Glorious: has closed the chat for :0700: hours!]

#star wars #clone wars #xanatos #feemor #obi-wan

36 notes · View notes

yamithediaperdork · 4 years ago

Text

Courtney's Visit (OC X anime)

Curt gulped softly as he made his way from his hotel room. He'd been in Domino city for all of 2 days and had already won a jackpot, winnng a million dollars. At age 21, the skinny brown haired boy was set for life, and he knew that most people his age would of been going out and partying, drinking and having a blast. Instead he'd put 3/4's of the money in the bank and was carrying the rest in a briefcase as he made his way to a certain..place of business. He knew the reputation that this house had, how so many men had gone in so prideful or certain they were smarter then the ladies who worked there and how many had come out penniless. he was sure that with the 1/4 of a million he had with him the ladies wouldn't leave him broke and summoning up his courage, he walked into crinkles, house of sissfy.

Sitting behind the front desk of the lobby (the place was a former hotel with each of the girls having their own room and then other rooms having been converted into different styles of nurseries) sat the digimon queen herself, Rika and just the smirk she gave him as he walked in made Curt's knees wobble. "Oh good, anther BIG baby~ Hi there loser, Do you need a diapie change before we get you signed in?" she asked in a voice dripping with fake kindness and venom. "I..I..I.." Curt stammered and was glad he'd worn black jeans here, as a small trickle of pee escaped into the crotch of them. "t-t-today loser!" Rika mocked and gestured to a chair in front of her desk. "C-Can't we uh..go somewhere private to t-talk?" he asked, looking around the lobby where some girls, not working were hanging out, having drinks and snickered. "Why? you really think anyone who see's you in here thinks your anything but a diaper wearing loser?" Rika asked bluntly. "You DID see the big old sign on the front of the building right? if anyone was going to snicker and call you out on it that didn't know what you are, it would of been someone on the street. now come sit down." Curt practically dashed over as Anzu nudged Rukia and whispered something in her ear, the action distracting him and he tripped and fell onto all fours. Rika just laughed and stood up, looking down at him. "Awww, did baby fall and go boom?" she mocked. "I better make a note that your a crawler." she added, taping away on the computer in front of her. Curt whimpered and got into the chair. "A-Actually I'm not so big on cra-" he started to say, but he was cut off "Fuck you. I say your a crawler, your a fucking crawler." She snapped. "Now what's your name loser? I just need a first one, none of your dip shits ever give a real last name anyways." "I..it's Curt." "ok then Curt..do you have a stupid little diaper baby name you'll want you're mommy or mommies to call you?" she asked, typing away. "I uh..Courtney." Curt said, cheek's burning red. "Ohhh a little SISSY BABY~" Rika said with delight, raising her voice and getting chuckles from around the room. "Are you diapered already little missy?" She asked. "N-No Ma'am." "bad girl, I'll put in a note to have you spanked. Little sissies like you should NEVER go without thick puffy diapers on letting everyone know what you are." "but I do-" "I'm sorry, did I word that in a way that made you THINK it was your choice?" She asked, daring him to defy her. "That's what i thought. now of course your a diaper filling and pissing sissy baby right Courtney?' She asked. "Y-yesh Ma'am." Curt said, his voice taking on the lisp and softer tone it always did when his clitty got all stuff. "wow, like sandblasting a soup cracker. I bet your a pay piggy too aren't you? Oink for me if you are." "I..uh..Oink." Curt said. "Knew i smelled bacon when you came in. Well Missy, just a few more questions. How frilly and stupid do you want your outfit to be?" "S-Super girly and frilly pwease." Courtney said, not even able to think of himself as Curt anymore. "and of course you wanna be sent home when this is done in your sissy baby outfit for public humiliation. " she said, typing again. "One mommy or two loser?" "I..um..Two pwease." Courtney said. "so, let's recap. you're going to be a crawling thickly diapered pay piggy loser, who's gonna be spanked and fill your diapers to the brim, then get kicked the fuck out of here with your keys and wallet or what not in a cute little purse and your boy clothes destroyed. Is that correct sir?" she asked, smirking. Courtney whimpered and squirmed, anther spurt of pee coming out in his pants and he nodded his head. "That'll be $130,000 please then, Paid in advance. with a extra 20,000 fee for every time you cum, and 50,000 for a diaper change. Of course if you wanna pay for a cummie up front you're more then welcome too." She laughed. Courtney gulped, he knew this place was stupid expensive but he hadn't thought it was gonna be this bad. but the cruel attuide of Rika and the way the other girls snickered, he did something very very stupid in his horny haze. "I..I have $ 250,000 in here..can..can i just give this to you and go meet my mommies pwease Miss Rika?" he asked. whistles were heard in the lobby and Rika snickered. "of course you can~ I already sent them your work form." she said taking the briefcase from him and putting it in a safe. "Follow me sissykins and remember, crawl or auntie spanks!" Courtney whimpered, eyes watering up but he slid down to the floor and crawled behind Rika who he was now thinking of as auntie, and to her total delight, he started to oink softly.

May was dressed in a pair of grey sweat pants and white socks, a baggy dark pink t-shirt reading 'queen bitch' in white text covering her top with her bandanna on, while Kari was wearing a baggy pair of shorts, black, with no socks on and a white t-shirt that was just plain. Both girls looked up and smirked as Courtney was lead into the pink nursery and chuckled. "so this is the bigggg spender~ I'm almost sorry i have to spank someone who's gonna be spoiling his mommies so well." she giggled, getting up and coming over, bending down and pinching Courtney's cheek. "I'm not. If he wanted to get out of a spanking he should of brought HALF a million. clearly the fucking loser can afford it." Kari said, coming over and scowling. "Don't think I don't know who you are, I watch the news." Courtney gulped at that, he'd been hoping neither of them would know who he was. "anyways, I'll leave you ladies too it. oh, and before i leave, while we were coming up here Little Courtney BEGGED me to stress he wants orgasm denial." Rika lied, then left before the poor sissy could argue. "wow, quarter of a mil and you don't even wanna cum? my kinda loser~" May laughed. "Well loser, since your spending soo much we'll let you choose, which one of us do you want to spank you? me, or May." Kari said, smirking with a evil gleam in her eye. "I..I want Mommy May to spank me." Courtney said, since so far May had been the sweeter of the two. "Awww ok sweetie, though you reallly should of picked Kari. She just half asses her spanking. I believe in giving the customer everything they paid for!" May chuckled and went over to a spanking stool, picking up a wooden hair brush. "heh yeah,., she's brutal. anyways. lose the boy clothes pig." Kari ordered. Courtney whimpered but did as he ordered,with the two mommies laughing had as they saw his piss stained hello kitty panties, and laughing harder still as they saw his hairless 1 inch wonder. "Awww, not fully hard yet because your scared?" may giggled, wiping a tear from her eye. "I..I'm actually..rock hard." the sissy admitted, looking down. a fresh wave of laughter filled the room and his clitty twitched and throbbed as they did so.

laying across May's lap, Courtney was shaking a little even as she rubbed his back. "shhh it's gonna be ok." she said and giggled. "actually that's a bold face lie, this is going to hurt like a mother fucker, but you know, I figured you'd wanna hear some sappy shit like that first." before the sissy could say anything the hair brush came down hard and he cried out in pain, a little trickle of piss escaping from his baby dick and going between may's spread legs into a dog dish they had set down. "even if you don't drink it, you wouldn't believe what some perverts online will pay to drink 'our' piss, when we just sell them sissy pee!" Kari snickered. Courtney barley heard her as the brush came down over and over again, redding then bruising his buns but despite the pain and the humiliation (or maybe BECAUSE of the the humiliation) he was still rock hard! "wow, you must REALLY love getting your ass beat!" Kari said, a hand down the front of her shorts. watching little loser like this always got her so fucking wet. "Don't think it's gonna earn you any brownie points though, I already tossed your shit out in the hall and it's gonna be burned." Sliding her hand out of her pants she took his wallet and went over to a desk where a note pad was, and looking though his wallet started to take some notes. "If you want her to stop go ahead and ask, but that'll add anther five minutes to your silly Lil spanking." may said. "or I can stop now and while Kari writes down all the information she can about you, we'll get you in a nice thick fluffy diaper and some plastic panties." "I..I want my diapies!"Courtney said, unable to handle the spanking anymore and the girl's just laughed. "Good girl~"

Flat on his back Courtney was powder and then taped into a thick massive pink diaper. the girls giggled and teased him about how NORMALLY they had to shave a man but either Courtney was SUCH a sissy he never got his pubes or he just shaved them himself. a fat cockfier was stuffed in his mouth, the dick shaped nipple reducing any protests to whimper and the mouth guard was in a nice shade of dull pink with white text saying it was widdle Courtney's mute button as they oiled him up Courtney whimpered as may then Kari then back and forth slipped their fingers deep in him, though unknown to the sissy they weren't just fingering his sissy pussy. nice and slick they powered the big baby then pulled a custom ordered diaper that was equal to at like 16-18 diaper of a no name brand's thickness (while being so massive and hot pink, with stenciled in words like sissy, loser, faggot, cocksucker and the like covering the surface) as the diaper was taped closed Courtney did the only thing he could with two cruel, mean mommies looking down at him he started to rock his hips and make baby love to his massive diaper as they laughed "awww, somebody wuv him's diapies, yes he does!" May coo'ed and pressed her foot down on the front of Courtney's diapers. the little sissy humped like crazy and was SO close to making baby milk when Kari shoved her off. "Hey! no cummies remember? sheesh! you';re gonna get us BOTH fired when he whines we let him cum hard in his diapers!" Kari said and then winked at Courtney. the big baby whined loudly even with his mouth stuffed and May snickered. "oh i can tell, I'm guessing that's him whimpering about how I almost let him go cum cums~" Courtney toyed with shaking his head no, to tell them he wanted to spurt in his sissy diapers while they called him every name in the book, but just couldn't bring himself to spit out the fat cock shaped nipple from his mouth. "Come on loser, time to sit up so we can get your pretty widdle dress on." Kari teased, holding out a SHORT pink party style little girl dress, with puffy shoulders and white lace trim on the hem and sleeves. "What do you think Lil lady? is it girly enough for you?" May giggled. Sitting up on his thick pampered diaper butt, Sissy Courtney sucked hard and fast and rocked back and forth on his diapered butt, trying to rub his nub as he reached out for the dress with his hands. Naturally both girls responded the only way they could. with hysterical laughter. "Bwhahahaha! Oh my god!" May laughed, taking out her phone and record his pathetic display. "Don't you have ANY fucking pride as a man?" Kari asked sneer, and took out what Courtney realized was HIS phone and was taking pictures! Still he couldn't get himself to stop right till Kari put her left foot on his face, mashing it against his nose lightly, till she kicked and knocked him on his back. "enough you little loser! now sit the fuck up and be good or we'll toss you out early, and I'll send those picture I just took to ALL your contracts." The idea of his family and friends seeing him like this made Courtney wet his diapers a little and as he sat up, though it was hard, he managed to control himself as they tugged the dress on him. naturally it didn't even come close to covering up his massive diapers and his 'mommies' helped him stand up and made him strike pose after pose in his shameful outfit. It was of course Kari who had the next evil idea, and she took Courtney's photo id card and tapped it to the back of his diapers so when he was crawling everyone would be able to see who he really was. May, not wanting to be outdone brain stormed then smirked. "Ok loser, time for you to get a whiff of one of your mommies, lay back down so I can sit on your stupid face and smother it with my bubble butt. And you better stay still or I'll have to unleash my 'poison gas' attack." She chuckled. "Ugh, listen loser, if you make me have to smell her farts your in for it!" Kari warned. "oh come on Kari, we both know with the kinda total loser Courtney here is.. He'll sniff and huff up all my ass gas." may snickered and then with the loser on his back, she plopped down.

Courtney found himself in total darkness as the bubble butt of May covered his face, but she wiggled around and made sure that his nose was lodged between her cheeks. She had also made it so he couldn't spit out his paci, and so the only air he could get was tainted by the smell of her crack. 'ugh! does this bitch even wipe?!?' Courtney thought and squirmed a little under the bubble butt. He only squirmed for maybe all of 2.5 seconds but true to her word, May unlessed a fart right up poor Courtney's nose, making the sissies eyes water. that however wasn't even the worse of it as his diapered crotch took a kick from Kari, not hard enough to really hurt but clearly a warning. he could of sworn she was saying something but with his whole world experience now being the bubble butt of a trainer he'd had a crush on for ages, he couldn't make it out. Trying to appease May and there for Kari before things got too out of control he wiggled his face a little differently, giving May's ass a Eskimo kiss. "oh my god! he's making out with my rotten ass!" Squealed may in delight, laughing. "..really? guess he really DOES love huffing farts. so no fucking excuses! huff better!" Kari growled and lightly tapped Courtney's balls with her foot again as a warning. A series of poots later and Courtney huffing as hard as he could lead to the sissy blacking out.

Courtney came to a little while later, but he was locked in a high chair and was being force feed some sort of awful bland paste. with his arms pinned under the tray and his wrists shackled anyways, all he could do was whine and whimper and swallow the muck as he looked over to where Kari and May were browsing Facebook..what a second, HIS Facebook! "Oh wow, who'd of thought a sissy baby dweeb like him could HAVE so many friends." Kari said. "eh, he likely just friended every hot girl and guy he could find so when he worked himself all up they could all see what a baby he is. Oh, he went to high school with that one." Mat said, then jabbed at the screen and happened to look over her shoulder. "Oh hey stinkerella! About time you rejoined the party. me and Kari kept ourselfs busy and made sure not to turn off the clock so you could pay for nothing for a whoooole half hour~" Courtney tried to protest though his feeding gag, and nodded at the computer. of course he couldn't get any words out as his tummy filled up and started to crap. "Hmm? Oh! well we both know you wanna fill your diapers to the brim and waddle home sobbing in shame and semi broke...buttt since we're not letting you spurt your gross sissy milk me and Kari figured you deserved a little bonus. We know a guy or two who are computer wizards and with your personal information it wasn't all that hard to find your Facebook and hack into it." May said bright and chipper. Kari turned around and smirked. "So we talked about it and decided while outing you to five of your friends online is normally a very costly thing, we'll toss it in for free for you JUST because we think SO much of you." Both girls laughed at that while a red faced Courtney shook his head no even as his dicklet throbbed yes in his soggy diaper. "Awww, do you not want out gift?" May asked looking hurt. "how rude! here we are being kind and it's not enough for you?!?" Kari huffed, looking pissed off but playing a role and noticing how the high fiber paste was almost all in the sissy now. "Some sissies are just SO greedy!" May complained, also hamming it up. "but fine, if just five of your friends finding out about what a diaper shitting sissy baby LOSER you are isn't enough for you..we can always do a public post. buttt that's gonna cost you the rest of the session." Kari said. Courtney's eyes went wide as saucers and he shook his head no over and over again even as the last of the paste went in, only pausing as May came over. she unhooked the feeding gag and wiped Courtney's mouth and smiled. "Now, tell the truth little one. do you really not wanna be OUTED to everyone you know, seen as the loser sissy baby you are?" She asked, leaning down and talking into his ear and patting the front of his diapers. Courtney went toi answer no but it came out a whimpering moan as his soggy diapers were mushed and played with, his 'dinner' already wanting to come out the back and fill his diapies. "Hmm? I dunno Kari, did that sound like a 'don't post me!~' to you, or a 'I'm a stupid loser, ruin me!'?"May asked. "I'd say a little bit of both." Kari said, and was hooking up her camera to the computer, and started to make the post, making sure to use pictures of Courtney they had taken THAT date, with a date stamp in case Courtney tried to claim later they were old pictures. "I'll tell you what Princess..I don't really trust a dumb sissy baby who's about to shit himself to tell the truth.. so we'll go by what your cock says. If you can keep from going goo goo gaga till you crap your huggies, we'll call off your Facebook outing. but if you go cum cums before then..Cliccccck~ your famous!" May said and giggled ever so sweetly and Courtney whined and squirmed, just having May this close and everything else had him at the bursting point! "D-Deal!" he squeaked out. "Not like you had a choice, but good to know your on board." May snickered.

Moving the high chair over took some effort, but it was a labor of love so it was worth it. Of course that love was of money and ruining boys, but it was still love so May was sure it counted. Maybe. Truthfully May wasn't sure if Courtney would actually make it. Normally she'd of bet on his cock head going off first but the boys guts were stuffed and this was the extra powerful stuff that Poison ivy had cooked up in her lab. May had had a tea spoon of the stuff once and hadn't been able to stop shitting for a hour! If she was a betting woman (and of course she was) May bet that the only thing keeping the sissy from messing was the tight confines of the high chair, but even that wouldn't help for too much longer. Courtney was mostly ignoring her to stare and whimper as Kari arranged the photos and made sure it was only ever Courtney in the shots, before starting to type out a heart felt message 'from' Courtney to his FB friends.

'Just so everyone knows, I'm not now, nor have I ever been a man, let along a boy. Nor am I a women or a girl. i'm not transgender, I'm just a little whimpering sissy loser humiliation junkie who gets off pooping and peeing in thick massive diapers while dressed like a baby girl. I've decided to take the ultimate plunge and hope that all of you, no matter HOW much I beg and whine, refuse to let this go away. Hugs and kisses Little sissy baby Courtney (formerly stupid stinky Curt)'

Reading the message over, Courtney was jerking back and forth in his high chair, Moaning and whimpering though whether he was trying to cum or trying to crap himself, that was a question May doubted even Courtney knew the answer to. "N-No..Please..Ugh..Don't..don't.." The sissy whined, bubbly farts escaping and May gagging and pulling away, holding her nose. "whew! I am SO glad we're not gonna have to change him." May said. "tell me about it..not even Tai is that toxic and he licks toilets for a living." Kari groaned, getting two clothes pins and handing one to May. "P-Please.." Courtney whined, clearly one mess or anther was about to happen. "Look here loser. you got till the count of three to make one or the other, Or you're getting posted anyways." Kari said rolling her eyes. "W-what?!" the sissy cried out. "oh, we should try and keep him from cumming then if he's gonna be posted anyhow." May commented. "I don't think we can, once he's posted he's gonna blow his load regardless. they ALL do." Kari said, basically ignoring Courtney now. "That's true..eh, fuck the countdown then." May said and took the mouse from Kari and clicked post.

Courtney's eyes were wide again, and filled with tears as he saw himself in all his shameful glory posted on line. the sight and seeing everyone who was online was too much and his cock head twitched like crazy and he grinded his diaper as much as he could as he blew load after load in his huggies, with his rear opening up unable to hold back. as the front was painted with sissy milk, the back was filled with mush that filled the room with a nasty stink. the girls were saying something, and he was dimly away they were letting him out of the chair as he kept filling but the world was like in slow motion to him. it wasn't until he was tossed outside and landed with a gross splat on his diapered behind his mind snapped back and he caught a purse as Rika tossed it to him. "Thank you for trying our services. we know you'll be back baby gurl. you got nothing else now.Change your diaper first though and bring more money. Courtney hiccuped and whimpered, aware of the scene he was making and everyone looking at him, at how he smelled.. and did the only thing he could. He nodded and bowed. "Yesh aunt Rika." he lisped and started to walk back to his hotel room. "Hey! what did I tell you? your a fucking crawler!" She called. Courtney, having nothing left, just nodded and got on his hands and knees, where a stinky pay pig sissy baby like him belonged.

the end

10 notes · View notes