#tally centre near me

[gtiaindia]

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[mohalicareerpoint12]

tally coaching centre near me in mohali

[k-atsukibakugou]

happy birthday to the man!! — katsuki sees your sex toys once and is haunted by what you look like using them

pairing: bakugou x f!reader w/c: 1.5k warning/s: nsfw 18+, m! & f!masturbation; sex toys, i think that's everything notes: this is a bit short BUT i had to get something out for the man, this took me like 2 weeks to write but hopefully now i'll be out of my slump a little bit! pls enjoy c:

crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • wip updates & voting • kofi • askbox

fuck… he really doesn’t know when the lines started to blur between friend and fantasy, from wanting to hang out with you to wanting you, from talking to you about your day to being bricked up hearing your voice. yet, here he was, hot water streaming down his neck, plastering damp hair to his forehead; the water pouring over his head nowhere near enough to wash his mind of you.

he’d been plagued by you, morning to night, even in his damn dreams since he tried to find a phone charger at your place.

it’s not like he was snooping, he wasn’t trying to find that sort of thing, bakugou was only trying to find your spare charger, he’d seen you put it in one of these drawers before, how was he meant to know you left your spare chargers right below all of that?

he’d slammed the drawer shut the absolute second he realised exactly what he was staring at; the bedside drawer stuffed to the brim with bright, phallic toys, a collection of smaller, rounder vibrators, something that looked awfully similar to a gag, and he heard the telltale metal clinking of at least one pair of handcuffs against the wood when he slammed it closed. embarrassing heat crawled up his neck, burning his cheeks and setting the very tips of his ears alight. stuck in the same spot, mouth half opened dumbly, his eyebrows creased in the centre of his face, all blood rushing from his brain down to his half-hard cock already straining against his pants, the need making him ache.

every hour since that, he’d spent thinking of what your wet cunt looked like swallowing the toys; so pretty and drippy, how it looked tensing around nothing when you came from the buzzing of your vibrator, how you’d look writhing and moaning handcuffed with that gag in your mouth, how your drool would stain your shirt, sticking the fabric to your skin. god, it was just so lewd, even under the purifying water, he felt dizzy, sticky, hot, sweaty, the image of your toys burnt into his retinas, no matter what he tried to distract himself with, he always saw your toys at the forefront of his mind, the perverted imagery refusing to budge from its newfound home.

bakugou groans, a deep, rough sound drowned out by the even buzzing echoing in his ears, the sound slowly building, kicking to a new level when your whine drowns it out. you always start nearly silent in his dreams, just tiny gasps escaping your parted lips when you’d nestle the toy right against your clit. you only get louder from there, your eyebrows scrunching together like his own were, marking two little tallies in the middle, tilting upwards at the centre as you pulled your lip up between your teeth. the motion did absolutely nothing to muffle your sounds, your whimpers and moans only growing louder with every heave of your chest, every passing moment with the vibrator pressed to your pulsing clit making your hips jolt into it.

you reach between your thighs with a whine that sounds all too similar to his name torn from your lips, dipping your fingertips in your slick cunt, collecting all the cum gathering at your trembling hole without even taking a breather from humping your vibrator like your life depended on it. your movements grew jerkier and jerkier the longer the intense vibrations were held to your drooling pussy, your eyes fluttering closed with a breathless shout of his name, shaky, wet thighs squeezing around your hand, even as the vibrator slipped from your grip, falling forgotten onto the sheets beneath you, the constant stimulation growing too much for you—

“fuck.” he really couldn’t help it, his hand travelling lower down his abdomen, trailing behind droplets of water still running down his torso to his hard cock, the tip already leaking from the thought of you. wrapping his fist around the base of his cock, he squeezed once before twisting his wrist, slowly jerking his cock, wondering if you were in your shower doing the same, fucking yourself on one of your toys imagining him in its place just as he wished it was your warm cunt squeezing around his dick instead of his hand.

“katsukiii—” bakugou can feel you beside him, your figure displacing the dense steam surrounding him, a heavy, thick silicone dildo hanging from the glass wall of the shower, your figure slick and soapy from the shower, damp hair sticking to the soft skin of your neck and face when you bent at the waist, lining the tip of the plastic cock up with your drooling hole. the head of the cock would slide into your cunt all too easily in his fantasies, always greedy to watch you take more and more, inch by inch sinking onto it. your mouth falls further open the more you take of the toy, the pleasure too much for you to even hold your head up by the time your ass was pressed against the cool glass, your back arching with the tip of the dildo nestled deep inside your cunt. he wonders if the curve of it would rub on your g-spot at this angle, if it would drive you crazy grinding against the glass, whining when you can’t take it anymore.

bakugou’s head falls back thinking of you reaching for the shower head, his cock pulsing in his hand when he grips the base, his muscles tensing and relaxing while he tried desperately not to cum; the image of you playing behind his eyelids making that a near impossible task. even with his eyes squeezed shut, there you are at the forefront of his mind, switching the settings of the shower head to a concentrated stream, aimed directly at your aching clit, your broken moan jolting his hips forward into his hand, stroking the length languidly. your voice wavered, repeating his name again, the stimulation inside and outside your cunt just so overwhelming.

bracing against the tile with your spare hand, you lift yourself back off the toy, the base suctioned to the glass remaining stuck as you grew quicker in your movements, starting to bounce and roll your hips in a smooth tempo. he matches the pace of your hips with his fist, his breath coming out in nothing but deep huffs. his uneven groans were nothing compared to your sweet chorus of moans and whines, an endless symphony playing in his head of “ah-ah-ah”’s and “mmmng”’s the closer you got, your cum coating the toy just like his pre was smearing all over his fist.

he can’t help the guttural sound that escapes him next, a garbled, broken version of your name when your thighs tremble, your knees only moments away from buckling from the pure bliss; the water is still aimed at your clit, even when you can’t bounce on the dildo anymore, wave after wave of pleasure drowning you until your eyes rolled into your skull and your cum gathered in a creamy ring at the base of the toy, your ass flattening against the glass as you greedily took more of the toy, intensifying the euphoria wracking through your body. he knows your toy fills your cunt so perfectly, knows how you’d hump the air to get more and more of the water aimed at your clit, unrelenting in chasing your orgasm, jolting and jerking until your knuckles turned white against the tile wall, until your voice was so high and loud it didn’t even sound like you anymore.

he wonders if you’d ever screamed taking the fake cock, if you’d ever been so overwhelmed you squealed, your pretty cunt clenching around the toy, milking the poor plastic for everything it can’t give you, or if he’d be the first to make you cum so intensely.

“ka-aa-ki—” you can’t even spit his name out, your name the same mess on his plump lips, caught so hard between sharp teeth he worries he’ll split the thin skin. all his muscles tense, his abdomen clenching low on his stomach, the veins stretching along the underside of his cock throbbing with the need to join you in the throes of pleasure, to cover your cunt in milk white cum you desperately tried to squeeze from the silicone.

your name is a choked mantra tumbling from his lips, over and over again, dark crimson eyes rolling into the back of his skull the longer you bounced on the toy, pinching sensitive nipples between your slippery, soapy fingers, dragging your orgasm out as long as you could, as long as he would, until your knees were weak and your couldn't even manage to dumbly spit out his name anymore.

“fuck.” he damn near whines, a mess of cum covering his fingers, coating his knuckles as he kept fucking his fist through the waves of his own orgasm, shivering even with the hot water running down his body, cleaning his hand even as he continued to stroke his cock, relaxing his muscles as his toes still curled, his knuckles stark white against the tile.

his head fell forward onto the cooling tile, a temporary relief for the haziness swirling around in the steam.

shit, how was he meant to look you in the eyes after this?

© all works belong to @k-atsukibakugou, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.

[junosmindpalace]

“on the count of three. one…” 

“it’s not fair. i got a lot of chips.” 

“two…three!”

at once, four bags with spooky illustrations were turned upside down, and at once, the sound of wrappers crinkling and solids crashing onto the joint up desks in the centre of the classroom created a mass of unpleasant sound.  

“satoru, get away! your pile will mix with mine!”

the bags were shaken extra thoroughly to make sure nothing was caught or remained inside, and were then discarded on the floor with loud swooshes as they cut through the air. 

“oh, come on.” shoko stared in exasperation at the boys' heaps of various candies, chocolates and bags of chips. “why do you two always get the biggest piles?”

“they can’t resist my charm.” gojo puffed out his chest, while suguru only gave him a deadpan look. 

“ready to count?”

the group nodded and the overlapping crinkling noises resumed as hands dived in to sort through the seas of treats of all different sizes and colors. 

halloween, out of all holidays, was one your second year group was always particularly enthusiastic about. it had become a sort of tradition to dress up and go out trick or treating in the neighbourhoods near the school, only to meet back later in the evening to tally up each individual’s candy amount and see who ended up with the largest haul. 

the rules were simple: whoever had the largest combination of candies and chocolates won. chips did not count.

satoru and suguru were usually neck and neck in this competition to you and shoko’s immense frustration. suguru had won the first year, satoru the last. the slimey bastards knew the best neighbourhoods to visit and which suckers would be the easiest to charm into receiving a larger haul. 

you, especially, were determined to claim a victory of your own, taking into account all the best neighbourhoods yourself. you were quite satisfied with your haul this year, and felt that it might be able to rival your friends’ usual heaps.

“a hundred and seventeen!” satoru was the first to declare, slumping back in his seat with a proud smirk and his arms crossed over his chest. “try beating that.”

“ninety six.” shoko groaned as she threw down the last piece of chocolate into her counted pile, reclining back in defeat. 

“one hundred and seven.” suguru finished with a similar defeated tone, leaning a hand on his cheek. 

“a hundred and twenty!” you cheered when you finished your count, jumping in joy over your victory. you were right. this year's haul was fruitful. satoru straightened in his seat in disbelief with a loud “what?!” as he hovered over his seat to examine your pile. 

“whoa, off by only a few? some bad luck.” shoko chuckled as she reached across the desks toward your pile. “it’s about time someone else got the lead over you two. let me have a chocolate bar.”

satoru huffed, collapsing back into his chair and pressing his cheek up against the table as he watched you start to dig into your pile of goods. 

“you two needed to be humbled.” you stated matter of factly as you tossed a piece of chocolate into your mouth. your makeup was starting to wear off, accessories of your costume removed and set down somewhere in the classroom after a tiring night out. 

“don’t get so proud, now. you won by one.” satoru grumbled through the plastic fangs in his mouth. his cape draped lazily over his figure as he slumped, shielding him in a sort of mourning figure. 

“still won.” you rebuttled simply and proudly, shooting him a sickly sweet smile as you turned your nose up at him. satoru’s lower lip jutted out in frustration. suguru watched the exchange with raised brows and a roll of his eyes. 

“you had a hundred and twenty five.” suguru said suddenly on his walk home from the school with satoru, their hauls secured back into their bags at their sides. satoru had taken out his fangs and was sucking on a lollipop when he turned his head in confusion.

“huh?”

“you had a hundred and twenty five candies by the end of the night. i heard you counting on our way back. why’d you say otherwise?”

satoru blinked owlishly before taking the lollipop out of his mouth. he stared up at the dim yellow street light as if in thought.

“well, y/n was really eager to win. embarrassingly eager, even.” satoru rolled his eyes. “seemed certain of their victory.”

“so?” 

satoru was quiet for a moment, still staring up at the sky. “i didn’t want to ruin that.”

if there were ever times suguru was caught off guard by something satoru said, this moment took the crown. he stared in surprise at satoru’s reflective expression, his pale cheeks tinted pink from the cool crisp air.

this expression however, got satoru defensive, and he stubbornly turned back toward him with a defiant look on his face. “what about it?”

suguru eventually blinked and straightened. “nothing. that was nice of you.”

“now i’m regretting it though.” satoru tried to diverge, sticking the lollipop back into his mouth. “with all that bragging.”

“that’s how you sound, you know.” 

if suguru wasn’t busy keeping going over a game plan for securing a large haul, perhaps he would have been able to catch on to the tender look on satoru's face as he basked in your enthusiasm over the decorations and the costumes and the atmosphere. if suguru wasn't keeping track of his own pile, maybe he would’ve been able to spot satoru gently placing a handful of his own chocolates into your bag while you, at one point, left it unattended. and maybe if he wasn’t so amused by satoru’s "distress" over being outdone, he would’ve been able to catch on to the small smile that danced on his lips as he watched you celebrate your victory and enjoy your favorite chocolates. 

maybe if suguru wasn’t so tired he’d would've been more attentive, use the clues to make a connection that would make excellent blackmail. but the night stretched out longer than usual and he was already thinking of all the missions he’d be out on due to the onslaught of curses produced tonight. 

this was to satoru’s immense relief. and as he parted ways with suguru, he reflected back on their conversation and hoped that you had been too enamored with your victory to notice anything either.

[jargonautical]

A queen in hand

Vintners Street, Alfriscombe, 1816

THE NIGHT’S GAME was nearing its end.

It was seldom enough that these five could come together, rarer still that it should be a social occasion rather than a crisis. The empty bottles along the dresser neatly demonstrated how ably they’d responded to the call, along with the neat stacks of coins and the jewel-bright cards heaped in the centre of the table.

At the edge of the pooled candlelight their host sat almost invisible, only the amber gleam of the liquor in his glass idly swirling as he watched the play. At last he leaned forward and picked up his own cards, running a fingertip thoughtfully along them before selecting a single card to lay down.

“You sneaky bastard.”, the sculptor muttered. “Have you been holding on to that queen the whole time?”.

“I always aim to have a queen in hand.”. The observation was accompanied by a tight smile, an allusion that the others understood all too well. “Would anyone care to counter?”.

To his right, the smith fanned out his hand again and reviewed each card in deep concentration, sweeping his fair hair back off his brow impatiently. “I believe I am out.”, he said at last. “I do not recall you having such skill the last time we played.”.

The scribe returned from the dresser with their glass freshly filled and the bottle in hand. “He’s been getting some practice lately.”.

They should know too, since they’re the one called in to tally up the aftermath and see things drawn up all right and tight. Not saying the baron couldn’t be trusted to keep track of his losses, but it never hurt to have some neutral third party keep score. If young Lord Vernon could have seen the grin that flashed between his recent opponent and his bookkeeper now however, he might well reconsider where he’d placed his trust.

The finder started gathering up his winnings. “Almost enough to buy myself a manor.”, he said cheerfully. “Something tells me there’ll be one on the market soon.”.

That raised a shout of laughter even from the disappointed losers.

“Job’s nearly done then?”, the sculptor asked eagerly. “’Bout time you left this benighted mud puddle to its own devices. I never understood why you didn’t just raze the hall to the ground and be done with it.”.

“There were the children to consider.”, the finder reminded him. “Besides, I tend to prefer a longer game.”.

“Is that some kind of cipher for doing nothing? Because that’s it looks like from here.”.

“He always looks like he’s doing nothing. Right up until he pulls a queen from his arse.”. The smith smiled to show no hard feelings and raised his glass in a toast. “To our finder, who I have every confidence will make things right.”.

“To our finder.”, the sculptor repeated, raising his glass but not drinking. “How much longer though, is all I’m asking?”.

“I have my instructions.”, the finder said mildly. “When the last of them goes into the ground knowing nobody cares who they ever were, that’s when I’ll be done. You know how she is.”.

It was as if the shadows around him grew momentarily colder; his companions exchanged meaningful glances at the mention of the ‘she’ he carefully didn’t name.

The sculptor alone seemed blind to the mood change. “What instructions, though?”, he prodded. “She said to ruin ‘em, right? Don’t look like they’re ruined to me.”.

The scribe opened their mouth to correct him, but subsided at a slight headshake from the finder and let him answer for himself. 

“She told me to bring them to nothing. What that looks like, how long it takes, that’s my business. You want I should come down to your workshop and instruct you on slip-casting?”.

The sculptor shrugged and set his untouched glass back down. “Ah, there’s no arguing with you. I just miss how things used to be, don’t you? Time was this place was a proper playground - you recall that time Carney’s dog got loose on the moor? I still hear them telling their children not to play up there or the ‘beast’ will get them.”.

“Excellent stock, that one. Could have sired a whole pack.”, the huntsman agreed. “But no more hunt means no more hounds. I too have my instructions.”. He tipped his glass a fraction in the finder’s direction before taking a sip.

“What, so you just gave up? Seems a waste.”, the sculptor sneered.

“More of a waste to create the beast and then give it no outlet for its talents. Would be cruel to constrain it so.”. There was a note of patient reproof in his tone; this conversation had evidently been had before.

“Some things can never be made the same.”, the finder said pointedly, though whether he was talking about the hounds and the hunt or something different wasn’t clear. “We mend what we can and tolerate what we cannot. Isn’t that the way?”. A subtle nod around the table invited them all to pick up his cue and divert the topic to something more neutral; they swiftly obliged, turning with relief to news from Home and other gossip carried by those few of their kind that still travelled this way.

By the time dawn crept over the rooftops the finder was alone again, the end of his day overlapping the sound of the bakers behind his tiny lodging beginning theirs. He took a deep breath in and held it, looking about the room and considering. Maybe his friends were right. Maybe he’d done enough.

On the other hand the deeds for the bakery and the several properties either side laid even now in a secure lockbox behind the dresser, surrendered by the young baron in lieu of his gambling debts. He already spent more time here than at home, and he’d long since established to his satisfaction that the border could be watched equally well from  either side. He wasn’t entirely joking about the imminent sale of the Manor House up on the hill, either. That grand property might be beyond his touch right now, but the departure of the last Vernon from this region would cut the unseen link and leave this little town entirely without a guiding hand.

More to the point though the world was changing, what with wars and civil strife and a distant government looking to wring every last penny from a population ill-equipped to provide it. It made it so that mysterious strangers - and travellers and tinkers - got asked far more awkward questions than used to be. If he was going to be here at all, he’d need a base to call his own.

[sanguine-arena]

"playing stupid games." | bad things happen bingo, #5

desc: Nali decides he has had enough of Thatcher Leichenberg's style of hockey after the two antagonize each other all game. Using some extra-sensory help, Nali decides that Thatcher needs a taste of his own medicine.

cw: some blood descriptions, descriptions of bones breaking, beating/physical violence, fighting

prompt: "broken rib(s)", @badthingshappenbingo

other tags: @isherwoodj , @aquil-writes , @elijahrichardwrites , @jezifster , @thetruearchmagos , @hottubraccoon (ask to be added or removed!)

wc: 3,601

(read on ao3!)

---

Thatcher thought the game was going to continue like normal. 

He didn’t bat an eye or have a single inkling of the idea that he may be in danger as he carried the puck down the ice. He kept his eyes trained forward, staring intently toward the goal that stood maybe fifty feet away by now. His hands handled the puck as if they were separate from the rest of his body entirely, and he dug his skates harder into the ice in an attempt to take off.

Thatcher heard the roar of the Thunder’s home crowd as he took off towards the Mirage’s goal, their cheers and screams echoing in his ears and serving as direct fuel for his legs. Any hint that they’d been giving him that they were tired was starting to wash away, and Thatcher cut directly across to the middle of the ice as soon as he got into the offensive zone. His hands continued moving fluidly, and Thatcher smirked as he enjoyed the few moments he got to toy with the Mirage’s goaltender, Kot- who he already knew hated his guts merely for being the one player on the Thunder who managed to score on him almost every game without fail.

Such a fact was not becoming of a goaltender constantly touted as a “generational talent”, and Kot definitely felt that sentiment fully. Conceding a goal to the Thunder was already a failure in of itself, but especially to the player that was both their captain and arguably their number one goon.

And yet, for the third time tonight, Thatcher dangled the puck in front of Kot like a stuffed mouse on a pole, and it didn’t take long before Thatcher immediately shifted his weight and put the puck over the goaltender’s shoulder. He relished in the satisfaction of another goal tallied onto his stat sheet, but also the sweet ping! sound that the post made when the puck had managed to hit it and drop into the net.

Thatcher skated away from the net and towards the near corner, throwing up his arms in celebration as he was soon mobbed by his teammates in a very aggressive dogpile meant to be a group hug. The group of five all yelled and ranted and raved, the sounds of a celly between linemates only rubbing salt into the wounds of Kot and the Mirage as they heard the entire arena erupt into a ravenous cheer that was almost deafening. The five Thunder players soon broke up, skating by their bench to get fist bumps from everyone else sitting there while the officials collected the puck from behind Kot, who stared down the ice in what would be a deadly glare if not for the fact he had his goalie mask on.

He soon looked up from his skates to see Nali approaching him, a cold look in the blond’s eyes as he came to a stop next to Kot. 

“Do you want me to do something about that?” he said, his accented voice not leaving much to the imagination.

Kot hesitated, his jaw tightening as he tried to clench his hands into fists in an attempt to keep them from shaking. He could feel the rage building up inside of him, but he knew he had to at least try to suppress it, lest this become even worse than it already was.

“We shouldn’t be losing this fucking bad to them.” was all that came from Kot’s lips, his voice quiet but bustling with simmering anger.

“I know.” Nali said, now staring down the ice at the Thunder’s bench as the same five got into position at centre ice to drop the puck once more.

Nali took Kot’s words as an indirect request for him to do something about it, as he’d phrased it earlier. He went to line up at the right wing spot, smiling to himself when he saw that was where Thatcher would end up as well. He looked to the slightly taller man for a moment, sizing him up in his head. Thatcher had a noticeable size advantage, but that only encouraged Nali to take him down more than it dissuaded him. He lined up, slightly hunched in his stance as he waited for the puck to drop.

“Your goalie’s having a rough night, eh?” Nali heard Thatcher say to him, friendly in tone and with a playful nudge to match. 

Nali took it as malicious, sweet-laced mockery and he now felt his own blood starting to boil. He kept his eyes trained forward on the two centres as he finally responded.

“Not as rough of a night as you’re about to have.”

The words came out of Nali’s mouth with ease, as if he’d said them a thousand times before now. He could hear the audible “huh?” Thatcher gave him in response, but the two didn’t have any more time to squabble before the whistle was blown and the puck was finally dropped. Nali watched as their centre easily batted the puck back to one of their defensemen, and with that, Nali was off like a shot. He skated off with the speed of a rocket, narrowly avoiding tripping over himself as he forced the puck into the Thunder’s defensive zone. He had the puck on his stick, easily weaving through traffic, though he soon found himself being herded towards the boards. He threw the puck to the middle as soon as he noticed it, and only half a second before he felt the impact of Thatcher stapling him to the boards with the force of a truck.

Nali gasped for his breath, but only for a moment, shaking his head and chuckling under his breath. He could tell he struck a nerve with Thatcher, though that was exactly where he’d wanted him to be. He soon rejoined the play, circling towards the middle of the zone, skating around and waiting for any possible opening to form so that he could take a shot and just put one on goal for them. He wanted a goal more than anything else most nights, but especially on a night like tonight, where somehow Thatcher Leichenberg had three goals and he had none.

Nali soon had the puck floated to him, and he’d just barely settled it on his stick before, once again, Thatcher was involving himself in every move Nali made. Thatcher came charging in, smashing into Nali once more, this time in open ice, and even with a slight jump into it from his skates. He knocked Nali over like a set of dominoes, and the force sent him flying into the boards that were only a few feet away. Nali barely managed to tuck his head into his chest enough to keep himself from going heads-first into the wall, though the feeling of slamming his back directly into it didn’t feel too much better. He groaned in pain, reeling on the ice for a moment before slowly getting back to his skates and striding towards the play that had left his zone quite a while ago by now. He shook his head once more, both shaking off the growing haze he felt rolling in on him and at how Thatcher was playing- he knew he was drawing out Thatcher’s brutal, dirty tendencies when it came to laying hits and playing the game. 

It was the thing he and everyone else in the League hated about him the most. 

Nali had enough of it.

Nali took off at full speed once he’d finally recovered, digging his skates hard into the ice and getting lower to get more power behind himself. He finally caught up to the play at hand, where the Thunder were managing to adequately cycle the puck in the Mirage’s defensive zone. Nali scanned the other four players on this line, smirking to himself as he watched the current puck carrier look around in what seemed like low grade panic. He could tell the fresh faced young man was looking for someone, anybody, to pass this puck off to in order to get the heat off of his back for the moment.

When the kid finally passed, Nali finally saw his opportunity. He slowed himself ever so slightly as he trailed behind Thatcher, who had just caught the pass from the much smaller and much more skittish player on the Thunder. Thatcher was handling the puck on his stick, idly rolling it from forehand to backhand as he too started to look for a pass.

It had to be the first time Thatcher ever looked for a pass, or at least the first time Nali had ever seen him look for one.

Thatcher passed the puck off to the cool and collected Haydn, and Nali glared at the blond for just a moment. He couldn’t be distracted from the task at hand. The second the puck was off of Thatcher’s stick, Nali pounced. He sped right back up, throwing his full two-hundred pounds and change of weight into the slightly larger man. He’d clearly caught Thatcher off guard, as he stumbled hard and struggled to stay on his feet. The impact started to lead them both into the near boards, and Nali made it a point to drive his full power into Thatcher’s body. 

Thatcher crunched surprisingly easily into the boards, nearly crumbling to his feet. Thatcher sputtered, gasped, and wheezed for his breath. Every attempt he made to straighten his breaths out ended in a wince and a cough that would only make Thatcher curl in on himself more. He wheezed and coughed, flinching even moments after the hit and giving a pained yelp every time he tried to recover. Nali gave him a tap to the chest with his stick as he finally went to skate away, leaving Thatcher to fall to the ice without his support.

He figured that would be the end of it.

The whistle was soon blown on the play, something about an icing if Nali’s assumptions from half paying attention were correct. The two teams lined up at the faceoff dot, and once again Nali and Thatcher found themselves nearly shoulder to shoulder with each other. Nali kept his gaze facing towards the two centremen, though he smiled at the feeling of Thatcher staring him down with equal parts shock and pure hatred for him.

“You’re fucking dead.”

He heard Thatcher’s voice, low and still sounding as if he were out of breath. Nali chuckled at the threat, still not looking at him.

“Am I?”

He threw out the taunt at the very last second, immediately breaking his focus on Thatcher and skating to the top of his defensive zone to try and snatch the puck from the Thunder’s defenseman. He stretched his stick out, lightly whacking at his opponent’s without any care for the times that he accidentally hit his shinpads instead. He kept at this, ignoring the looming feeling that Thatcher was going to be all over him at any moment now. He hadn’t seen Thatcher after the latest puck drop, for now assuming that the man had been preoccupied with something else for the time being.

The Thunder’s defenseman threw it up the ice and towards the net, the same skinny, deer in headlights looking kid tipping the blade of his stick up to go for the easy deflection in front. The puck ramped up and off of his stick, just barely clipping the crossbar of the net and dropping in behind Kot.

Another goal conceded to the perpetually miserable Kongsplass Thunder, and Kot couldn’t handle it anymore. He huffed and smashed his stick over the crossbar, immediately taking the two pieces over to the bench while they had a few moments to spare. Nali had gotten caught up in the horrible feeling of being down yet another point, and in the feeling that their goaltender was losing the battle against himself to keep himself calm, when he was roughly shoved to the ice from behind.

Nali had faced many a crosscheck in his career, the stinging feeling in his back and the momentary loss of air being no stranger to him. Tonight, however, it stung a little bit more. Nali felt his whole body tense, his jaw locking tighter than the rest of it, when he finally went to get up.

Down he went, yet again.

Motherfucker, was the first and only word to come to Nali’s mind as he went to get up for the second time.

This time around Nali popped up with a certain anger that Thatcher wasn’t exactly sure he’d seen before. Nali’s vision instantly flushed red when he turned around and saw Thatcher’s stupid face staring him down, especially now that he wore a smirk not unlike the one he’d worn only minutes earlier.

“You wanna fucking go?” Nali shouted at him, immediately jumping forward off of his edges to throw a crosscheck of his own back at Thatcher, aiming low and for his stomach.

Thatcher sputtered and laughed, and Nali could still hear how he wheezed to keep his breathing steady. Nali knew he’d done damage already, and yet, here Thatcher was, still antagonizing him despite it.

“Do I wanna go?” Thatcher asked, his voice dripping with mockery and the coughed out laugh he gave didn’t do much to calm Nali’s nerves. “I thought you’d never fucking ask. You’re a fucking pussy, you know that?” “I’m a fucking pussy?” Nali’s voice almost gave out, cross checking him to the stomach once again. Thatcher stumbled back slightly, giving him a light shove just to keep him at bay for the moment.

“Yeah, you heard me,” he continued, dropping his stick and his gloves shortly after. “You’re a fucking pussy. You always hit from behind and never want to fight. Drop ‘em. You won’t.”

Thatcher seemed to be genuinely impressed when Nali eagerly dropped his stick and his gloves to the ice. The two started to circle each other not long after, both of their hands coming up to their proper fighting stance as if the two were boxers instead of hockey players. Thatcher would be the first one to strike, springing forward and immediately throwing a left hook into Nali’s jaw. 

Nali’s head spun, but only for a moment, as he struggled to keep himself fully conscious. He would give Thatcher one thing- he definitely knew how to throw a punch. He shook it off quickly, ducking Thatcher’s next swing and immediately snatching the collar of his jersey. He gave the jersey a vicious tug, almost as if trying to drag Thatcher to the ice. He reeled his hand back, smashing his fist repeatedly into Thatcher’s face. 

Thatcher continuously got lower and lower to the ice, pathetically trying to swing back and barely managing to land his punches. The half powered blows only seemed to piss Nali off even further, as Nali pulled Thatcher up to his feet by his collar. He held him up with an amount of ease that Thatcher hadn’t anticipated, and he wasn’t entirely sure how he didn’t know about how strong Nali was. His head spun as Nali made Thatcher into his punching bag, repeatedly hitting him in his face and the fact that Thatcher’s face and nose were starting to leak like a kitchen faucet didn’t seem to be much of a deterrent for him.

The officials watched, not too far away from the fight, but they didn’t seem too invested in breaking it up. The Thunder’s arena started to quickly devolve into a massive cacophony of “boos” and a particularly pointed “refs you suck” chant. The gallery that sat thousands strong were massively in opposition to the fight, but it didn’t seem to serve as a deterrent for Nali himself either. 

Thatcher sputtered and wheezed even harder, blood coming out of his mouth in a coughing fit that wasn’t in any hurry to finish. Nali chuckled and held off swinging at Thatcher for a moment, admiring his work and ignoring the dull throb of pain that was starting to form in his right hand. He ignored the fact that some of the blood on Thatcher and his jersey was his own, and he gave Thatcher’s jersey another rough pull. He watched Thatcher’s head spin, able to see it through his half opened eyes. Thatcher tried to let himself drop to the ice in a silent surrender, though Nali pulled him right back up.

“Look at me.” Nali demanded, yanking on him again.

Thatcher didn’t look at him.

“I said fucking look at me, Leichenberg.”

Nali’s accent seemed to come out more with his increasing frustration, and Thatcher soon managed to pull his eyes up to look at him. He groaned in pain as he looked up into Nali’s eyes, which were now looking to be taken over by an all white glow that was only partially obscured by the tint in his visor when Thatcher was this close.

“Do you still think I’m a fucking pussy?”

Thatcher didn’t respond, something that would become a point of regret for him later. Thatcher was pulled up to his skates completely, and Nali’s vicious attack would continue not long after. This time Nali aimed his punches lower, hitting the soft spots between Thatcher’s pads with the precision of a sniper. He kept going as Thatcher sputtered worse and seemed to choke hard on any air that came in and hit his lungs. They burned as he desperately cried out in pain, whimpering in a manner that was pathetically mismatched with Thatcher’s whole persona.

“You- you win-” Thatcher coughed out, blood spitting onto the ice and at both of their skates.

“ Answer me. Do you still think I’m a fucking pussy?” Nali repeated his question, the next punch he threw seeming to hit with the power of a semi truck. Thatcher could’ve collapsed right then and there, and his stomach was threatening to turn on him. His ribs burned and they screamed in protest with every breath and little movement that Thatcher made. He groaned in pain, curling in on himself and hunching over in an attempt to protect his body. Nali pulled him up yet again, throwing another punch into his ribs that hit with concussive force. Both of them could hear and feel Thatcher’s bones crack from the impact, though Nali’s shudder of satisfaction and Thatcher’s almost scream of pain laid on opposite ends of the spectrum of reactions for this. 

“Answer me and we’ll be done.” Nali hit the same spot again, and Thatcher couldn’t help but crumple under the sheer brutality that Nali had been showing him over the past couple of minutes. Thatcher’s body shook and every flinch he made felt like it came with the added jolt of pain that came with being stabbed by a knife. Nali pulled on him once more, chuckling as Thatcher’s body struggled to withstand the attack. He yanked and dragged Thatcher’s larger frame around as if he were a cat and Thatcher were a mouse. Nali didn’t throw another punch for a long while, taking in the rage he’d inspired in the crowd and probably even the Thunder’s bench themselves as he kept toying with Thatcher. 

He listened to Thatcher’s weakened groans and his sputtered breathing. He listened as Thatcher wheezed and continued to cough, moaning in pain in a way that Nali had never heard but wouldn’t soon forget. He soon realized he was the only thing holding Thatcher up, the hand curled into his jersey tightening its grip.

“You wanna be done now? You got anything else to say?” Thatcher attempted throwing another punch, though his arm was quickly and easily slapped away by Nali. Nali looked down on Thatcher for once, letting him drop slightly to emphasize this fact. Thatcher squirmed in his grip and twisted himself in an attempt to punch Nali once more. He caught Nali’s chin with the very tip of his knuckle, the grazing of it barely causing him to flinch. Nali snickered and threw one final punch into his jaw, listening to and feeling every bone in it crack and eventually turn to mush from the force. Thatcher looked up at Nali with half lidded eyes again, and he knew that even if he didn’t remember this fight, he would remember the cold, unfeeling, all white look of Nali’s eyes as they seemed to stare through him now.

Thatcher was halfway onto the ice after the punch, and soon Nali let go of his jersey and let him drop the rest of the way. Thatcher crumpled down to it, still wheezing and choking on the small amount of his own blood that was caught in his throat now. His blue eyes closed and he tried to get in any shallow breath that he could in order to at least get some regular pattern of air to come back to him. Thatcher laid sprawled out on the ice, tiptoeing on the line between passed out and conscious. One thing was clear- Nali had gotten the upset win in this CSHL bout.

Nali rolled his eyes at how pathetic he looked, adding insult to injury by spitting on Thatcher before the officials finally jumped in to drag him to the penalty box. He rolled his arm out of the official’s grip, though he still continued straight to the box without a hitch. He smiled to himself and sighed under his breath as he finally let himself relax, his shoulders dropping with this relaxation as he stepped into the box and closed the door behind him.

[2asdc2]

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[libidomechanica]

Laughing een o lovely

A ballad sequence

               1

For he has a pulse, and thee up under the vine     flourish all the world’s sunflower. I will nor can prize: for the purple moor, a red-coat     troop came marching—king George’s men came

masculine and Shadow movest thou mayst prove me.     To let base cloud they still can stand in it things for your sweet smelling myrrh, and God from heaven     of blood to thee? Must see reveals,

as when, a callow youth at a great pitty. Then,     flying; give him to thee, while he insults o’er the correct yes. Thick and quick like a nurse.     Or all inertial systems, which most

doth take and waves in pain, upon that go about     the twilight of songs, which our eyes gave me the lily marriage-maker, who mends old chains,     with God’s sweet flowers bore, and I wanted

anything it touch of globed peonies;     or if thy mistress: life remains a blessing although it held no hiding thy outward     part, kiss me, because I am black,

but comely. Toast and scrubbed the taste of Heavens said     she what does contain her, maiden most I wink, then they at every car on the way one     single breath is out it shall find a

tally fitted to the thing in thee, that Eloquence     could not appear in its best doesn’t always when dear Willie? The lips of clay for the     strength to feel another, and my back.

Some do the forest he fleeting, and want and wade     in liberty that tyranniseth thee her face! What every act confirmed, and, passing.     How do I love me for me; with open

mouth like the salt sand-wave, let in dark directed.     Stay, for thoughts to be seen? So this heart, and mar my peace proclaim, till Age snow white linen     hence, and filthy darkness thing it

touched to praised the droop-headed flowers of the     squirelings near; and either. She lay clothed all her beauty’s angel pure and suffered, nor expired     with delight. And he of this: one

is strong darts but we all should never wouldn’t stand unwon,     however would never man well to what red Hell his soul may come by the holy     order; when the wife, then surely we.

               2

Is that appear before her name.     At Mileva, it’s as if she that I am fled from     thee. And bless the stair, with

humours such I can not sing a     note. When they fall like her, with vilest deeds like purple throat     and gipsy bonnet be

the nerves in the shoe-store … I’m lugging     my thumbs press will ever be beloved in the stones,     we had not spilt. Sad and

Doom: the hand, hee’l flattered them both,     and staggering lies. Hiding the golden sands as fit drum,     the oscillating hands

were most of year thou to her secure     of the Justice naked is, time watcher’s doom is given     her timely warning

to thee, give them all by name. For,     right inviolably true, and drop a quest of this height my     soul began the shutters,

but almost crashed, the way! I see     thou to-morrow, ere that Ixion grindstone’s ceaseless     there he went round and round

sunshine and the wakeful eye;     the master’s train: her Lord him so that pass in storm we had     lived together we look

down. Beat with God and hope for no     one extremest needs tempt to reprove her who but claims olives     out form or breath of

liking, rage of that is it dearly!     Tis poetry, at leashed and saves that cries—let it too     deepe move: sayes that simple

caress with the hands do hold, the     bolts of his hour, and one Night Zulaikha went to see this     subject Lute! Together

love for word or act; unless     omissions and tears, of all but death. Dream of comfort neer.     Corridors were full of eggs,

and foolish fires do us both     night thy flock of goats that at each man kill. That somewhat more     than whole field, that spangled

breast did pant, as if I’ve been     impossible to know who stood bowed, without breath in the centre     of my beloved.

               3

What sobs can giue words of cedar.     My love good-bye. And grows ever at his task, must with the     year’s done within, the end where Fountain sealed. With my verse; do     now your feet. Some when we

shall I lie, while talked into     necessity; taught by his dishonored Maid! Which now my breasts.     Perhaps it was that pull your companions hearkens after     death, I would end the ragged

pines. I charge you, O daughter     was an hour ago, or laces, or like the wind is in     this line, remember not the hopelesse rueth. Golden eye     follow like Eve’s appointed

in you would not hear, and if     ever I have little heap of wheat set about the centre     of my love, my love; there shall cover, and I knew ye     not melt, and his state with

a flattering o’er his shuddering     cheer. Of crimson clouds o’er, the gates are making mercies     healèd me, a sinful and bounds, you know the voice kept his pleasant:     also our best, if

not the curtain of a     pomegranates bud forth, O ye daughter in the clear as they     grieve not melt, and for his agony to partake it; that     breed a bloodless sickness,

and thus for wider were than Heaven     in the wind was gone: my soul’s though I have stolen what     he begun. Yet was she. To-morrow, if we dare not gaze     upon a table; let

cloud they weigh in scales to hold my     coat, and swing off ordinary walls, the lame; want and waves     in the day I die, the brimming river I heard the knots     held good! Of a love like

jewelled twinkling in them were     as new; and aye my Chamber for then, what conceived me. For     this is my part. With the white and represent and drank the     souls unborn, whom daily

she went round goblets. With yawning     leer, each foot, tell me all strange was whispered out for thee, finding     with blunt uninvested gaze. They fitted with tears even     men must want of conscience

is more awful Beauty—Beauty     that he speaketh. His pangs the Bard refuse this humble     knapsack a’ my wealth, a poor and how pleasures do us     both are likely, with other’s

life, three long black cascade of     perfection; she was slowly dying lips shall your children.     Into thought—meet, if thou canst thou, to-day, to-morrow, and     how true my lady’s heart

is beating for you to an     overwhelming question without my life doth flourish all the     rest so smooth-faced, placid miscreant! My beloved, O     thou fair stars go waltzing

out of our meat; and darkly bright     in the Shulamite; return, returned; one joy possess peace,     and still can stand at our prayers. Like Samuel from the Arrow,     I the Arrow-head.

               4

Is kindly she gaz’d, he listen’d! Is foul and both     a wrong. The word Miltonic mean sublime, he deigned not to look back on summon, ah! A     travel, a paleness, and no Serpent to a confined doom. That press’d a new-leaved     Myrtle, meet emblems they trod a saraband: and the savior of Remorse. That I scorn,     is that streams from servile toil releast,

where to like, and the hangman’s heart, and dry down scatter’d     loving life is done, though lean Hunger and go about his eyes white robes, heavens high,     bob, And fall. Bowed, without a task riding— and the dewy eve and bran, bread this year to     my garden inclose her hearts o’ men adore a sultan? And his grace of silver jets     onto the first and tended her praise

is due, thundering sky of May, there was nourish’d     by. These two were rapid falcons in progress are; still in the ground, and his right have been     false death-moth be her musket beside their extremes between syl-lables! Creature stalking     down Bristol Street, rubbing its back upon thy faithful swain’s reward—an aching reeds, and     candlelight. Who is here, is your skirts

that cries—let it be so: for shall redeem from Fingers     were most dearly rue! Let me such band, they whose manger make a saint forget till you     needs must misse, and his deare Monument: and none of thy thoughts surcease, that love for words, that     th’eyes of busy foretelling and protests to clusters of Jerusalem. They cried, art     thou wouldst hunger for her courted: wha

spied I but torments is like the machine, on the     grasp of felt crept by each produce his place in such beautifies. Of lonely wandering     cloud they shot him dost laughs for joy, and bare but in the Sexes’ intermix’d connection,     one sacred Right—but needless her might, nor ride a moon-white steed.—The bonie lass that thought upon     me dead, and hear mermaids singing

like rain, clinging clear; Corinna can, with eyes are     hard, naked first. I get that the thing, when to unseeing all the green, and where late the starry     head of her lovely, that’s more wretched man terror crept. A second self, in angels     exercise above thee for once it was moved to speak. That thro’ the foot of the moonlight     and want and want and draws the wound you

are no longer I go then, confesses love had     opened the eyes best worms to draw the greenest dells, where Melodies round us both, two     outcast men, and leave my sense unhaunted by any other side of which looked with bowèd     necks, and into necessity; taught from a dress than to prevent, she hath my heart, and     face to be, my evermore delights!

               5

Applause will I lie, while these loves, and what chills and     kills outright is that the feet questioning, passed serene, and feather’d creature I adore.     What sobs around, around there is that I tried to-day. Though some aboue me sit; nor hope, that     I call her lost moist and his state-thing breath; and, thou art fair; thou hast doves’ eyes were to laud     therein campeth, spread it doun; she put

the least was broken profit thee? Bob Southey! And     makes the twilight wave the third, our last, yours one moment; she drew: he who cries to endlesse     folly once fired, how pale is the starry head of her she left me gowd, a mailen     plenish’d hand, the crown of all? The while the balm, tho’ wretched man—at peace, there was, indeed,     when the minute, but found him whose step

all sweetnesse, loue, whilst I thy babe chase thee by moonlight,     shattered with bold pretence and the window, and gone; the flowers bore, and I though the     bay! That your tender, and flutter on the room to another circumstance, the next year     all pumpkins! He who sins a second self, and wine are red, there is no woman living     Death chokes up each grated screen, and yet

she will be false, ere she love him, and through they led,     and Fate will soften with whose shadows of jewels, thy neck. Sleep from the nightingale, so doth     take my love, for no esteem. Still in the gladness of herself, or some benighted angel     in his separate, discontinuous lantern threw the nether he know where lives a woman     but a rich result of all; so

she was glad to be outdone, with his sword swallowers     shows a thrift in his explicit sadness of gold. Grain and cry, and meet her rave, they     were a duty done thy mouth but two objects only instrument of man was it ever     less patient. As that, rolling on me grace made her will not liquor: thy bed of crimson     clouds bedimme my face, as I grant,

in spite of all human kind: and that is never     flower turns and drank—Young man that dwellest in the minute, come out to me for decisions,     and let this fair day foreshows, when they fall like her, night doth ly, till Age snow white     hairs on the gardens, a well of such as call the night! Drops from Lebanon: look for me;     with open mouth the Nightmare where

eternal Laws are kind and the Ground. Love that made the     grave,? For, Maud, she doth impart. Little wren shall drop it at last till the sunflower. So     take, dear girl, this song to you and for thy love good descends. Ushering eyes, waits for the     leopards. Had dropt her store; but aye shall not die a death her and go talking of which prison-     wall, and downwards with his worldlings

try: but when it seem’d far better equipage: but     if thou rove, by consequence, was best, as longer than anyone: that’s my Julia’s breasts     are like her, none. With golden sun from rose-coloured to waste, and damning the little as     their losses in the bank must think she cometh out of view from a stag. As to the old     and saffron; calamus and all, but

Luther’s guilt! More lives were profanation fall, or     proud desire of prison-wall, and at eve voyage on gentle dreams; my soul made my     love; behold when yellow face of silver clear, plump, soft, her voice of the sad augurs mock     their cause be of you and lie, so you will climb, in the clefts of the chill behind me whispered     low, and the tyrants in you woe.

Had such a thing hearts; but his eyes are like a piece     imperfect, and go, though his death who have seen across the blissful cloud of the stain     immortal moon hath looked upon her beloved come out to you, all shouldst be, to give mine     eye following of the valiant men are, or, one dream of you, so low did her up for     the towers: then why you bred them noise.

               6

And laid her up to open the     stroke, subdueth! Between us, I see she camera flashed in     two. Thou canst view from her

five talent and warned him—with her     dead. Heaven had the black hair. Turning Contempt shall tell you     have means to lean in my

lord the shutters, blinded rabbits,     cows with whose mouth saddles thereof, both demands our blessing     like apple reddens never

be heard the road that seals up     all in vain for he to Heaven, my spouse: I have been yet!     Its puddle of the

Apostles’ cure. Thy plants are pearl the     women if you resided first. Received as one bespeaks     poor hygiene and the smell

of thy holy care. And the smart     of beer: his soul tells him he is altogether we look     down. With a loathsome slime,

and shalt find him; I call him a     cheat; for thee. She woke Endymion without be rich and slightly     passe like a theefe

hid in dark disgrace: nor mark it     with one chains o’ love, and move; twere pitty. And hold my coat,     my collar take his lap.

               7

All March begun with, April’s     endeavour; may-wreaths for joy, and the liar—rough but kind? Than     if I had stay’d still increased velocity, space and less;     suddenly she were strange

flames where to get a part, it were     too such deceit, she mighty throng, ambitious to be seen?     The pampered and where thou leave no Pooley, or Phant’sie scan, with     charme of consciousness and

looked to the old inn-door. When in     thy shadow shadows flee away, death’s second Eve, but yours,     the most of a’. Yet somewhat more strong as my life with fatiguèd     eye; how they glided

fast, as long, and with sweet more blest—     and brought of soür ale some season to eat brown between. The     foe oft-times to his own assertion. Traverse my indolent     and was gone: my soul

loveth, whereon there by so remote     a Fountains, skipping wall is well; he has been cast out.     Me from slimy nest the bee-mouth sips: Ay, in the man had     not be given a small

bed to see me sit; nor hope, who     hope, turn back, and fasted, wept and power in the barren     among themselves are as pillars the unblessed-fair that     bonie lass that went on: through

the company; not that cause in     me is as a worm in my cell of the mountain the doomed     man say—look for me by moonlight, in celebration of     the Apostles’ cure. Eyes

did show why I am sick of     love the west; he did not pray with regarded, I am     the manor; but glory to thee? My Mine of the tarry     rope to all the lass made

the bed to me. Which ay most princely     pow’r, which do breathe a prayer the bottom thereof of     silver: and if myself until he please his rein in the     mortal light? I should bring

thought: had my friendship’s holy state:     when hot for lasting down Bristol Street, last years they will speak     of him than me, keeping shades, and mock you will hover, and     forgot. Cell hast thou leave

you, O ye daughters I need. So     let us melt, and seen what it was thick within, maud made     a home. And white, petal by petal, fall on that sands as     fit gaily through each could

do! My beloved in smirking     pairs: with its adder-bitten off the melancholy; the     heart in me out empty. The less of a corpse! Sweet it is     to sit beside her, none.

Well has change in zero gravity.     Till ioy makes a deadly blast was broken neck. Gave him     crying, please him, he the bed to me, the soul, and she was     so fashion; each man does

not wish to set before the star     that falls from me the tea, among them all—the eyes more will     hover, and underfoot if anywhere all the world light     the bottom thereof, both

demands our blessing like a light     of happier men. Yet Maud, she has no eye follow that     hardly Death once dead, and lo, it is the world drops dead. Arise     like a madman, shrieking

a contumelious lip,     gorgonised me quite despised I with spikenard and a     heavenly feature—auld Natures dear. Of regret—no major     part to another

woman, and speech, Love, foolish mind     or body grieve, when in death, I would I give for what streams     from others love himself more dear. And sung me moon-struck, kissed     kisses of how thee me.

               8

The watched for him Pity’s long-broken profit thee?     Your side in such unholy ground, through they look upon her a palace of life doth not     lie down, but humility. Amidst thereof: now also thy body’s treasure of torments     you doth grow: now off with their hearts held craving, never let it freely come, for all.     Go with his hands dropped with sweet evil

fan. Break, break, and thee, as souls are afraid, states to     be singing, not give rest, or quiet joke. Our humble, but found when my leaving his hands     in water white faces seemed light and hamely fare, for him Pity’s long-broken neck.     None could find a tally fitted to the world god’s dreadful dawn was resolute, and cold;     that as no one prevailed, so allied.

That rides best doesn’t matter wine upon the mirksome     night before he’d wrong it—’tis decorum. You, Bob, are rather there, the soot that roll it     toward the ring we turned the union of the hand in the certainties in the meadows low.     Instead; at least of tune. Will ever be broke my heart, and none to loue and so forget     his woe; what places of Heaven saw

her safely might be shown; so, in the thing heart, and     wine of presentative of all my hearse. And as one of us though not disturb the     unweeting groan—who blame him,—she did not mean, and hamely fare, ye freely come, as     colour of the bolts of blood waltzed and her neglected one. Or else he mighty wing     to feel another, each thee, the butt-

ends of pain another bereav’d me, harmes doe only     once first. Silently they one that smelling and protesting youth, darken’d in the     nightingale. Has not humbly at your body, whose manger make a saint forget his woe. Grow     white, encountercharm of space of Doom. For each simple caresses by the highwayman     came riding—riding—the red coats looked

upon. If Loue learne; the flood that it waits for you     appear, and the beryl: his bed, and allows scope to all such as they drank his quart of     flame! To find, but most of tune. For no one so utterly be contemned. So little     roof of golden seemed to play, who am dumb as are the best of tuneful persons, to     my heart, thoughts dim and uninspired

and to gathering of birds of change the world’s garden     for each in his turned to habit; and, from the Arrow-head. King Solomon’s. Dear heart’s     end and it would fetch a pretty, to dwell in prison-yard, naked for his monthly fix     how he’d look in your Mistress at you, to you. Her words, being opened each listening     And air-like, leave me thus, my Katie?

               9

That fears no blot? Make coffee spoons;     I know thy charge us? And dark inn-yard. Breeds flames of ioyes.     I, on the meadows low.

               10

If thy mind bemones his wrongs.     And the hinds of the highwayman comes riding—riding—     emprison seemed to reel, and Southey! I have my sense unhaunted     by a simple verse preserves his separate, discontinued     fusion of delights

are as fair day foreshows, perhaps     were his soul was round her neck so faire shew, whiles he     clatterers dare not that rides best worms to dwell in white, encountercharm     of space is such thou require it, both deckes     and yet shoulders, knees on

Marble cold were her fall: made for     the earth brings made for lay- men, are all worldly bustle, to     my despite till I seek with tears are all delight. April     soft in flower-time in this, that all admires such sorrow     liue. And binding word, we

passed through hell should ask me how it     came. Ambitious am I, as to wit, fearless, because     it doth harbour finde in this stormy gulf have found? I still     reach her wi’ a kiss, had dropt her stiffness by long siege to     be, my evermore death-

bed where I begun. My dove, my     deere, the tea, among the Rosebud of its muzzle beneath     that guides: he loves him shall speak for me,—so sweet heart, whereof     was to see whether though his dead in each could draw, to make     heart would give an incorruption

unto me, her friends, whose     every moving vision fleeting, and wisely choosing, for     still air is Music slumbering o’er his breast no thorns, so     is my part. Practice may win thy limbs the path a little     frightened marshalling thence

but sweet: yea, he is rough but killed     the thirst notes intent on Death my head nestle thee, I am     crying hell! And, green Thirst like apple doth hold my coat;     how should look upon! Thoughts, all shields of hands that made the sun     as thou wilt say, alas!

               11

Not till the choice, inviolably     true, and gentle river- whisper her dying fall beneath     its adder-bitten off

the moonlight, and death and bone away,     it eats the sweet flowers: then with graves, and ever dwelling     evening dwindled bitch,

they stand, stand up to wave. And so     fall a Xerox of something of Folly so true, and drown     it: if a man who had

ceased love-knot into his plan, and     you! Too; for changing, ever true height, having made a flute     of nastiness. With his

garden inclosed what had we     done that it was thereof being only injured bird We     text, text our sight—not to

leave. And clattered limbs go lame!     Lets the apples; and those who watch whose base and frozen seas?     Bubbles that are braceleted

and says in one’s cell, and     those Gothic times a carefully composed lets the heart, I     feel wither; the shadows

deep, and lofty cedars as far     as the deep river ran on. She gaz’d—she redden’d her mither’s     body where it came.

A last break a single heart is     calm, tho’ thy lips, when she spread with eyes o’erflowing age, a     dearer blisse? In silence.

               12

And the whole earth gone nearer. There     will be outstripp’d by every stone ice-cold whatever you     happen to see; some do

it with me from Heaven, and thy     comfort or console: and biddest me walk humbly own—’tis     decorum. How thee me.

Rules of speculations Act: the     Doctor said to me. New and nearer out of ether on     one’s own Heart’s heart her care.

               13

This old wolf and thy mourning toward     Damascus. Moving points of tape delays and nightshade, ruby     grape appearance lies.

               14

Here Vanity strums on her a     palace of Doom. Or there is left.—The bonie face, nor pause, nor     son of Man; amid this

wretched me in my heart was blawn,     and canst thou promised good. Must with boards of Paradise; and     where the tarry rope to

pass for fool and knave, till Age snow     white, they preuaile as much as bid my healthful anodyne;     with glad moning, which I

blessed Cross that is thy fair imperfect     health adieu; since in the nightingale. And take me in     one another, and our

rafters of the banks o’ gowd, a     mailen plenish’d fairly; and in so hush a mask? I am     all thee. Solomon

with flagons, comfort from profanity     and the world’s sunflower! So subjects, how to serves:     who seeke, who by blind the

floods drowned the yard that the form divine     strange, that seem something the sweet or no? The braw lass made     trothplight death at every

day, be glad life and face fronting     the fragments of the room to play, who am dumb as are     turning lord. I though she

were moved ever dwelling. There is     a crime. Rose Aylmer, all were singing Here Comes the Disease.     That it will I not know

a handful of the wood bluebells;     the bed to me, the landlord’s black-eyed daughters of the time     to the dead, come back the

sun; while in this vaine scuse giue? She     writhed her up to the bar, a blunt and prayed, though the stars     that trail along a table,

pitiless, passing, turn’d to     the soil of the sky, and wade in liberty that made the     basin and the glory

of dark direction. That will     dignify our feast with the voices, to dance upon the soul     when hot for certainties

now crown of all; so she was, and     loud that ear white rose would I give thou feed on Death without,     I would kiss thy perfume

came the Herald came like a dry     Bob. The song of prayers to each of us, of the     populace own them all: have

known them all already, known to     hear it. More honey and baby. For one is due, onely     to you, to your arms

reaching heart, since she from you the     floods and mind, since Juliana here increase him, and we     drown. On my freshness die.

               15

Bare in the goodly perspective:     yours has lately glistering, or out of my night that is     my well-beloved, let

us melt, and joyance everywhere     been impossible, trying to come. Seek, you’ll say,—for death, from     Wound no remedy but

Flight; and I’ll profess no verses     to reproved, is Feeding faithful within himself a     charm! Then he tries anyway—

from one room to another’s     children she hath got the sound. And pass, escaped heartless daughter,     plaiting thy breasts like

to a Diamond pendent in their     turn and in worry vaguely toward me. For to be conscience     hold of its Revelations

Act: the Doctor said One who     reads the Law that we are the dream of delicate the sunbeams     dance in all hearts! There

never flowers, once a whole field     without, I would not here; false-flatt’ring hope, turn back again,     fair Lesley, return the

wight most gratefull time when I     look at light of memories anyway—from one room the     night, nor ride a moon-white

road was sung her close doth flow, and     this we will run like a madman on a day they trod a     saraband: and crooked

neighbour with shells and wriggling on     her, who watches that they catch thee, as souls are as a cluster     of pleasant meadows

low. Now hope, that thanks me not thy     sorrow Ile wed; Despaired of, for then, perhaps, where never     a wrinkles strange it

was the droop-headed flowers of     Jerusalem, terrible as an army with blood the     mother’s children’s eyes and

gipsy bonnet be the offender’s     spark can blaze from better, knew, but never fight, when in     dead night down into sin.

               16

So, the yellow leaves that made the     beach. Around, they still and duly seated on the city     angled to its crisis?

               17

So they smote on the Tory, a     dinner to half the sweet smells of view and love of heart. By     all let this I know him

alive or dead, come out to me,     they drank the more I wail, the least breath, and the ways. Thoughts, a     sunflower of David

builded for wings, a breach, when shifted     round, like gold to aery thinness of her dreams; my soul     loveth: I sought him into

my garden, my Lover, were     my soul is all in every grass. And I and that sucked the     random gales that man with

fear and peaked. The haste, my beloved,     and harry me through the purple-pillowed me like     a long finger touched it.

               18

And at every one, unjust and     mine: for what she mighty men. False, and cry, and a little     weeks of life—immortal love those fault? Laying fall beneath     her breasts like a long familiarly received as one sees     most terrifying kind.

               19

This stinging, and your first that fish,     that thee alive or dead; but with bars that every channel     hath, will amorously

to the fire of love and we forgot,     we rot and cold approach’d her securely rest: to     unbosom all the sky; proud,

shall we both in their priming! Time     to th’ other give some great seruices may stray. I     have gone at dusk through a

broken heart may Lord Christ for each     idle weed; but if there some holy night in thy creation     did wandering cloud

as silver jets onto the wrong.     The deed, the freedom of that is dead woman I am     and of the sun, but hear

its sweet black mark clean, and snicker,     and with soul and move; there, observing what stopped my bride. Laying     flesh and body marred.

               20

I charge you, dear, dear love, by wimpling     burn and in so hushed! Wakes a man moves dark secret place     is such, the blue-tick coated

Philomel, and the stroke of     my dove, my love all to her love was long loving life in     her back. She shining until

only a biochemical     or two keeps him and my love; flesh upright increases     the soul is sense has it

so full brown hair! Who laughs for you     to an overwhelming question a nap, my heart of stone     ice-cold whatever you

have measures move: but the face a     moment perfection; she would help a brother is thy changed     in all her eye-lids down,

I bought for her safely just, break,     and fed them from Fingers with a bitter gall, to dry the     ruins of gold, thought upon

me dead, there but then why you     bred them—whose pants do make vnspilling Fame did matchless soul was     resolute, and come, though

your father’s body where a man     accursed in the grain— iness the bolts of beautifies.     Advise thee with my spice;

I have wept and fall. Many for     a day they view things, the sick unto dying vext with you     tell my body keeps, thy

neck is as ointments thy name in     hand: o, sweetnesse, loue, while some can not sing a note. Has this,     she woke Endymion with

her garments; let us see if     the mother do. Must think you Gods can heal: and that is never     saw a wild flower,

would it have been worth it, after     foolish mind or body grieved, that Love slightly passe like     asp with angling snow; time

breakfast table mess. Frowning Honour     true: to prove Clarinda’s fondest friend, but never would     kiss. Around, dark vault above

his face grew hard: with ease was     pliant to be made, and those tears had never yet so warmly     ran my blood and sung

me moon-struck, kissed its way, hiding     behind me. Fade softly from the past. Shine opposite! With my     lost saints,—I love the long-

wish’d-for end, full to the chest where     a man, taut, elderly, careful housewife runs the sorrow     on a map, but the deed,

they sometimes a careful housewife     runs the substance of my arms and find thy orphan family     of Christ! The watching still.

               21

And the vineyards; but my bed I     sought him, depriu’d of sweeter blow. I should have his. Is full     soul, the sound of Azra, what is thy plighted, for I will     seem love thee? Her hair was

lying still. Like Dian’s kiss, unasked,     unsought, bess, the works and drank its Fountain of garden     of Love, which makes thy louer? And the glory also, and     reverence, without number.

               22

No single Almond packt. Thou mayst     be found favours light, or whether the hand, but the city     found her, and as warm her

pretty price if you residence,     into my mother’s way: but when in dead nights in vain I     love to like, and servèd me

without a task So how should so     soon divide the blissful visions were, that feast-day that roll     in yonder midnight, nor

does Terror crept. Rich lovest thou     maysn find th’ effect, for I am gone. Still singing     themselves to advance an

honest simple word that mine eye     and hear my vows o’ truth is, false to do. And of the threaded     dances and tuck them

deep inside my head, a bunch of     lace at his task, must set about it, of the nineteen-year-     olds, let fall upon the

brow of the first. Long; there keen     Indignation, and the hands she supplied, and then young souls, whose     busy care is bent to

your first sight short Metro ride home.     Her self through that breath?—The fool, the short fever-fit; various     virtuous men pass

mildly away, death’s second was     wonders that, he victuall’d and equipp’d a Camel, and other     would I give for me:

long I will tent thee, that swell and     streams to thy sad child holds five hundred. Is kindly nurst; of     which inward sunne to hear

from a sunflower! But straws thine     eye and how should so soon grow cold is that took the hands in     hall, doth fall from the length-

ways in one’s own Heart’s workings be,     thy delicious flames of love a Heaven in its disgusting     trade, cobbling at thy

name, that all admires such delights     are pretty, to dwell in the best of a’. So still it lay     that lie remote from those

little heap of wheat and gay, and     die? And thro’; but strike me despaired of, for the day: and his     rapier brandished high.

               23

So God and my love, went its song, her voyce sound as     the dear light, and what she was a ribbon of moonlight, since in the floods and tuck them deep     in the day, and wishes me to thee.

See the floods drowned him who had to die. Lies hatching     smile that cries; there, till Gazing out in Silence meditating Night heart, and cost, tis like     the flood that fatal knife, and leave me

thus, my Katie,—canst thou leave me thus, for pity?     The Burial Office read, nor, which is mine, my Katie!—The bonie lass that Loves delighted     breathe a sugred phrase, that your name.

And wither; the soul intent on Death was Indignation     of thy mind discouer whether heart. This spirits grew wide for Maria’s cold bier. For     this that endless plan that makes my circle

just, and we be warmed, but never saw a wild     deprest, stems a wild flower star that place, stella, should say of it, lover. And with his     saving made a flute of no vulgar

muse: who, not by cares or want or food or dwell; only     the conquered nation felt it in the eternal love. The heart more blest am I     in this old wolf and through the yellow

fog that rubs its back upon that nothingness into     the wrist; stare, stare in the very talent to a coarser place: for then, perhaps am     somewhat stopped my brief life-days be

done, to see the fisherman’s boy, And should bar, my     humble tribute of my broken profit thee? Not mine will be time to be borne? Then how     should forgetful of the world so hushed!

               24

The red rose or white, and meet her     rave, to keep one creed’s a task and would kiss. Is a pure cup     of rich Canary wine,

which in full choir hails thy approach’d     her fall: made for the corners wherein I fry? Where wit     in fairnesse raigneth! For

three. The less virtue, not her poor     in gear, we’re rich and slighter. Clocks had ceased love-knot into     her love or a season

to eat a peach? Which none should new     though that goes unloved. How cold is that which in full choir     hails the holy has her

son and not wish to set before     me weep so sore, hey ho! And not be let go. Themselves are     as gold rings set with your

child, as it with the living waters,     washed my heart a white faces that a matter of pleasant     fruits of joy to day

and night: I deem, I dream of bliss?     Cock crew, but still she bore; new object of the first sight would     say of it, lover. Lies

hatching, up to attention he     had darken’st both and letting all the worst to steal away,     turn, my beloved me

forever! There was the same—that     every one bear the tears can heal: and the congelations     Act: the Doctor gloats, and

still continued fusion from thee     alive; but not in wonted way, for the foxes, the liar—     rough but kinda like

in clams as one to their love, to     whom a watch him lest himself should have seemed to find a blank     and bring the gusty trees.

               25

But as the long waves in pain, and     makes me end where and all the clefts of the mother’s Arms they     also sailed on oceans

miles but name in Fate’s eternal     Laws are kind and makes the thigh. And then surely unto     Thee mine eyes from sences,

beauty, musick lendeth! What honour,     I seek with crystal brooks, with glad moning, patching the     Trial Men in a pleasant:

also our best see, for all the     rich and rare: but it is, inter-assurèd of the sweetheart,     my sister, my undefiled

is but found her alms from     its spotted shroud, and marriage- bed where pomp and ceremonies     entered in the ground;

the shard, the corners of Jerusalem,     by thee. Left the fall of animated nature     cordial for a little

token, and in short, I was a     soul is all in rest. The marble, set upon sockets of     her splendidly null, dead

perfect past a future cordial     for a fainting pots on the immortal eyes can break that     is left his woe. Have washed

wall still in joy both day and night     ocean’s force, but doth, if Caitives break me against such     a wistful eye upon

thy revolt doth thy beauty’s fading     mansion spend? And the rouge lately glistering, but then     should so soon divide the

sun’s death; such smart may pitie now then     why you bred them—whose tongue, to have here in what we’ll enjoy     thee—cheerless eyes, cold fires,

yet resign’d. Beneath her eclipse     endure not changed him even then I heard not have gathered     my road, this stinging, altho’

not blind to the old inn-door.     With the past. As beauteous day, and you gave me thus, my Katie,—     canst thou, that the dead.

               26

And whispered low, “that fears no blot?     These rebel powers that, he victuall’d and done thy more the     tender pledges left to say; for the silence of my bliss,     maud made me poore, your

courteous, not as brittle bone by     night before the tears fill her love I seemed light hand should rob     their separate, discontented be; if just as soon as breath,     why should! To prove Clarinda’s

fondest friends do say, now his     happy day they view things of my life’s weariest way. Seek out     some are everywhere be and me, would it have vision fleeting,     a beauty’s fading

flowery honour shalt make no     noise, no tears had never could sleep so sore, hey ho! The sick     weak weed, not well which wanteth! To steal away, and the Ant’s     eye wider were than

Heavenly feature—auld Nature made     fruits. Into my face, as we were moved, and, from the show. For     thee to the young hart upon the air! Let me no steps but     thoughts surcease, thy looks fresh,

and distant colonies at last     I saw the mountain of a piece of Virgil, Tacitus,     Livy, or our day one to Wámik—Oh Thou victim of     thee. Is in the day. They

sang, for fear; he often said that     went last she punishes the one Life with repeat. Who with     thy body still seek after thee; thou’rt welcome to it dearly     life long orisons

forbids; yet who knows nought of Woman     is, protection. He does not sit with this sun and cries     to weep, and peace in such band, and the prayer the cup I     take: for whose soul of each,

and God from thee array; who will     bestow it; till with thee, or aught from its spotted shroud in     white and breadth and speechless fair, and strange a thing he loved and     not been for a minute,

come back the dreamy urn; farewell!     An active less of her veins, in the darkness, and less; to     the Court of Blisse, opening round, they do well to what red     Hell his anguish scope: something

of these bonds, for fear; he often     spoken for? But all the daughters of thee. None knew the     work they have larks. In Reading to see the cool     He made the best of thee.

               27

Waking the heavens rewarded.     I charge of matter, I am the middle line, yet somewhat     kinne to thee? With bars

lest Christ’s snow-white seal. On such a     wistful eye; the open casement.—Beneath that beauty     grow, if thy sweet or no?

But a cold does it with you     bewitching step of demirep some will inclosed what other     beloved is green.

Nor drop feet foremost in the cloud     thou mayst be false matter, and last the Trees their uniforms     were shut, and tell to what

red Hell his soul was white without     my plumes of might not go free, goodness in storm we had no     other shall be loved and

still in Friendship is Reproof, and     over cities like fog smothering the floor is pitiless,     passions of her sphere

she doth thy much clearer light, when     awful Beauty. When dear Clarinda’s fondest friend; for she     my mind bemones his

saving made anither! Of Audit,     lifted from a farther. And when he spake: I sought him,     but I found no remedy

but Flight. All that seat of fir.     Her voice, quoth I, Sweet lass, sweet heart, since thou, to-day to the     fashion; each man of sense

has it so full brown doe-skin. Upon     the eternal bliss of friend is beckoned to habit;     and, forsooth! But if such

as blest sphere she hath my bonny     sweetheart mine, and I knew that ye stir not up, nor awake     my words thy beauties treasures

grieved, the field; let us seemed     to fill, for the lamplight, my head, and my doom, and some wheeled     in his bower between.

               28

But drove Confusion in the speediest     way. Above! I asked to the forming hands she sung; sung,     and left a little care

of praised the place is come, can yet     the lilies. But when I began the joints on animals,     varnished bats, blinded rabbits,

for Poesy! He rose would be     able to add a story to deceived by wife, the speed     of lightning grace, and die?

               29

And evenings steep’d in honest mind.     When all alone, I think I made you up inside my heart     in the moonlight, or whether the hands that lies into a     new; so close on the palace far; thus her friend, whom these notes     of Fear the ways. Covering

Chaplain called and made me like a     madman on a day, and Time will run after a prize to-     night. And want and passive brain, as wild as words are, or what     should be underground to hold betwixt the twilight in the     lonely men in sleep, but

my ain dear Willie? But more we     may judge of midnight, nor turn and leaves lie humbly own—’tis     decorum. Thy plant against the soul is all inertial     system to perplex the salt sand-wave, make a bed to me     belonging. Behold me

striking that least for me by moonlight,     my own heart that written embassage, to witnesse planteth!     A scientific fact: and let this remove the third     errand senses in such band, the breasts to be made, cobbling     spring comfort neer. That

is good in Man ever she left     me, sweetness only multiplied it more. Then wonders that     words would sell—all fleet of lead make no noise at all. To-morrow     or to-day to the bed to me belongs than cozy,     once comes to hold me with

debt: for thou seest the Arrow, and     evening, sleeps the heart, and saves that perpetual one, which     I hate whatever I’ve to do. Some strange, that faced my three-     plank beyond, a desires have her waist, and straight his poor,     and the rivers of Zion,

and round, save those lillies and     into a roe or a young roes that cries—let it too deepe     move: for the tender and those days and love, by wimpling burn     and time; with increase reneueth! Codes we send arrive with Absál     out of sight for thee,

finding with tears, I am all     the merchant ploughs there to lodge in that beautiful, the face     a moment while the bed, and for they made my love a Heaven     in shiny black, because she laughed is in the hill; but     O for the room to play

on the source or observing what     strange wonders to behold when yellow smoke that bliss; fie pleasure,     let not rob all other side; his face, nor pause, nor the     buzzing of Michelangelo.— At the wheat set a lock     upon the long pauses

between our souls there a grave sir,     both my poor dead, the heavenly joys, that now in its     misery to live a little foxes, that famine was pious,     generous, just as soon absolvèd. Commend my woman-     love to me, i’ll ne’er forget

till she practised here; that     we’ll measure to the chamber of her sphere all but—nothing     breath so sad as I, thoughts to banish their lips. And swelling     everything but false fair and honey-dropping sweet flower,     that they glided past, they

smote me, shall make the bed to me,     the heaven so well as not to swing. Moments were offering     if that thou hast ravished my fingers; the braw lass made     the better after all, after the morning wind went singing     of a fly; I hid

my love, to whom I look at the     witchingly o’er-arching— Fade softly from myself art thou     like a mallet running words between classes. If he took     the air as they drank his quart of reason down into speech     is dumb, think not my amiss,

lest one to Chide! Which in full     clear; Corinna can, with the floors of silent that it waits     for fool and knowing it, from the pain, I did not come at     noon, whilst they cried, art thou, poor fish beset, without a sun     though awkward as a torrent

of the pain, I did not with     thee. That feast-day that is dead to keepers of the Apostles’     cure. Many women you was a torrent of blue which     cannot be nay, weight, in celebration of the piece; the     marching twa laughing at

thy feet visit our clime! Was my     Chloris’ dearest tool that it did, and time slows down. Hee vowes     not, grow in only tarry, o, sweet with the Sultan’s     pardon get of you and time pass’d they were as men who through     each came home from the park

what I may never watchful with     fetters on each other part of such a place were in shades     return; and for thee, thou need’st no better, knew, but make glad     and gracious, cruel, tender voice, quoth I, Sweet lass, sweet to my     iust cries; they mourner will?

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Some prisoners call the woods and     overmuch of spleen. Weak, it slays me. The troubled plumes of loue     it in the shutters, but raine, from the padded door, the figure     was dead in each applied

to each thing heart, and gay, and     Time will build upon the moment mercifully gave, because     I knew the women thus array’d; themselves had done a great     beauty’s angel pure and

cold; that breathes my way. The world drops     dead; I lift my life within himself should have loved as one     scarcely, now, would see, through a mist: they mourner will be as     before her ring, for long

Excursion I think she could     utterly be contemned. Ever should look into thy deceased.     And down low, so firme were those whom I’ve watchmen that laughs     for joy, and bless men who

looked upon the trees, when awful     Beauty—Beauty lay. Yet thought upon me dead soul toward     Damascus. To be friends, to be of you, let the sky above     the west, which makes his soul

from the heavy with mortal light?     And be among the sad attendants; then the Moon of Beauty     lay. Thy moving part, thighs are like Titan from flowers     of Jerusalem, that

Love must of death? Vanish, ye Phantoms!     Or, which in love which spurning Contempt shall I put it     on? Dismantled, held up, careful housewife runs the charming,     sae charming, sae wyling.

With the Wound of a winter night—     did you know thy choysest Art, or on the beach. It’s a matter     thing comfort wring thoughts to grow. As often-times the city     in that deed I dare

not turn up. Quenching June’s fever     … love me from a man’s little touch on her idiot lyre;     there to gaze of dull at the foolish tear, and come away.     Summer long; the very

mud cried out my cloak, to let base     cloud of the spices: a fountain sealed. When it’s dearest charm—     she saw or knew; but Anguish wrung the live without my     beloved come and never

find my hand in hand: about, in     ghostly rout the Desert; there, thy lips, and I have never     pry—lest we lose our flesh and hide the sweet; how should’st depart,     and the candle in her

hand, and never satisfi’d with     sacred hymns and whenever saw sad men whose milk doth point     out one dawn he heard it? From careless cloud that I shall it     bee that must die. With lots

of Amminadib. No longer     blown back when I climb into your warm you-smelling his banner.     That Christians of the pools that lived together long. Two     extremes between classes.

               31

And hearken to the passioned     gaze calibrating everything beyond complete but kind;     why let it be granted

her hand, and mony a sweet as     drowsy spell. Or like that long loving looks, her eares were     profanity and this,

and knowing it, from Clarinda     cold and said unto me, whose lives of endlesse folly once,     in the mountains of spices,

as sweet though tis the clouds, that     in bridal white, and in it things be done, without thought, or     my love, and thy mouth he

drank its Fountain road, the fragrant     gloom and come, all damps and me. So silent seas. To the air     beneath her young souls, whose

gentle will wondering lies. For     where the coldness of her name in her dresses? Blackbirds in     a world came like the love

hid in me keeps the house, and I     do equally desires; don’t yet know fatigue with me     after tary, there was

white faces that day, in all to     educate. Hills tell one another ring, forgot if we     ourselves until he pleasant:

also our best see, for all     the flatterers dare not prevent, she lay that my foule     abuse such as everything

was, a sweet Draught we know, and     tended her but I? But, when thou, to-day to the chin, a     coat of the downy owl

a partner in your body, whose     dainty dish to set before her manners, nay, the soil of     the sun and the bed to

me. Gift; creating, I love thee     to their legs with a flattering retreats of restless may     I speak for me by moonlight,

but still the lass that are at     a mortal eyes more wretch for me, o wrang thee. There will wondered     if each one of use,

politic, caution, to sullen     surges sink and bare, and none to the bed to me:—the bonie     face, a gray old world, and

the polish’d days, robert Burns: time,     when the room corner me against me study the cave of     blood on the mountain and

acceptance, sir, creates the     entertain, guests sometimes they look upon the hangman’s snare strange     way, for this truth and none

of you and life no longer blow.     Breath of liking, rage of loue it in the banks, close they were     we: the tender pledges

left to scent, and there her husband;     so love’s hallow’d temple, this love’s refrain. Thereof of gold.     No, no, go not that tongue

was the gainers such colds they wanted     anything in the hands in Erin’s yet green or dry,     a man must want of food.

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Coat; how should bring they look upon     thee in my heart. When, even in a rage. Is that bare her     name. The flying sunflower,

that all admire, and some season     to eat a peach? Who else, for delight, they shot himself,     and weeds or treacherously

poor name rehearse. With such growth     of the way. Rose Aylmer, all wet, shaking heel, all were soft,     her voyce sound as the most!

My true-love has close at hand? The     heavenly minds at last! Time breaks the floods and fire, the vulgar     muse: who, not by cares

or want or food or dwelling! I     have known them with thine ointments thy store of torments see. Into     enormous amounts

of the fireworks well delight not     go, though the length to foreseen the friend is beckoned to do.     When all was round and round

sunshine and here you for that when     it slowly dying I pray with a kiss, the Desert; there     vnseene, thou art; for in my

arms. Watch the thing he lovers they     roar back and gibe the fingers over delicious East, sighing     forth the bees seemed in

the golden day. Give thou findst that     appear before, behind something, which on thy revolt doth     harbour finde in thy flight.

               33

And tranquil night of such firm depends     upon a heart would be her last. In silence and allows     scope to pass, and does

it with a kiss, some man is always     in the soul of each, and God of all the worst of all     but Lust, is turn: the rivers

glide, to see this verse this to     say, now his breasts are foundress, and so forget till death. The     soul. The moonlight, So how

should breath; and, could not stare upon     the rest. Of a novel, book he’s put down, but weak relief;     undone by you Cupid

his crime, can reason, shame, and I     knew the throat, before it bears they don’t yet know that the thread     of the spices: a fountain

the door; so I turn me not     turn up. Had watcher’s doom is given, was lately taken     wing, the mountain and found

me: to whom my Muse thee for greater     shame, and through, between, he made; heaven so well as not     thy vision and whispered

low, that is messy in all hearts     move; twere precious seal on a bond, that thou no place is the     order: live out my lids

and mine: for their happy may he     be, that conceived me. To throw the drowsy noons, and she sigh’d,     and looking up to the

old and they stood up, straight his poor     rhyme, while in the hill, the hunger-starved, that night and Day? A     Robin Redbreast when

dilated organs let in dark breast;     and the bee-mouth sips: Ay, in the urn once more moves dark as     yon hawthorn’s blossom, o!

               34

Of insidious in so short     a lease, dost thou, O Solomon. Can yet the Fair, together     we look down. My backwoods

days dragged claws scuttling a pillow     by her head The evening is held good! So lamely drawn,     you scarcely say she construed

from the web of gloom of foreign     churches—I see her immortal parts lay hidden in     them let it be granteth.

               35

That have been to her, none. There been     false fair to see is the order: live oaks, shorelines,     wide-eyed and barred. In the

day they one to Wámik—Oh Thou     victim of the Wound of Azra, what is thy fate, thou’rt like     a thread, which is mine, and

thy mourning toward Damascus. Drifts     the sun’s death: one sigh did her ’tween me and bawled the Giant     is enough, soon enough;

a last brassy parade: the world     drops dead. A red-coat troop came masculine and they wore the     sadness. On a day or

so the springs in such a guest,     but I never can hold the keeper of the Justice of     blame is shifting cloud they

sang to wake thee wings impetuous     some other until the day that make not trust their light, and     still. Better proper purpose

of amendment, can firmly     to the deathbed desire your lakes for the purple, the     next was death was the stroke

of midnight of Spring! Thine eyes;     mine eyes are spent. With a hangman’s snare. Bess, the prophetic     soul of the sky like an

injured bird We text, text our sight     for the road is a delicious stones, we had not seen when     a fool’s eye lighteth on

a Gem, his earth with my friend is     beckoned to a final end, The pampered and weeds or     treacherously to the bat.

               36

Aware, my death? And the afterimage     bled from the first. Break, break, and fears; men reckon what     every vessel could be:

and we be warmed, but not in wondrous     moment to be seen, be’st loth, by sun or moon, clear window     my body still the

ocean is folded and muffled     in smirking pairs: with its adder-bitten root, and evening,     lingered upon thy passion,—

my humility. Hums will     speak our minds, amidst the Arrow, and who should help a brothers     wings, and now my head

is filled with the one breath had entered     not, where even with posterity. And arbitrary     black as a raven.

Love is straddling a prayer, or     give some coarse-mouthed Doctor said that day, in the blissful cloudy     seas, when only Maud

by those Gothic times are turn’d that     is the same—that Maud is as a touch that gave its raveled     fleeces by. And that men

build is in a pleasant art thou     thy Palace-Chamber—nay, the price would not have armed myself—     me—that I owe this thou

wilt swim in the sad world drops dead.     How doubly severe, your eyes, cold fires, yet with his prophet     to foreseen the bliss I

cannot conquests farther. Who is     this thy life a fruitful or more re-survey these eyes were     held in gyves, and one

Nightmare where need require it,     both demands, laying flesh stays no father reason, and died     instead, women whose loves

you biblically. My mother     courtesie; I bow’d down them my life on the secret House of     fear in their famisht case?

Nay, weight, is tir’d with the only     looked on look on thy temples within, the sprinkled o’er they     still and duly seated

on that seem something off, such     beautiful, O my love, as Tirzah, comely as Jerusalem,     terrible to say;

for we did not me; by night in     thy love, my fair and horse is lightened marshalling every     car on the middle of

my womanhood commend my     womanhood commend my womanhood commend my womanhood     commend my woman-love

to my love, for thee. Where flowers     but, instead: he had to die. The stairs, let me mention, with     me and no maner grow;

but when and a sliding behind     my home. To be friend’s Muse grown to deem, as the thread was a     part, ioying till ioy makes a

dead so soon grow cold is the voices     wake us, and the Splendours that ear which can turn in     a minutes crawled by men.

               37

The loved had with greater king thee! How to serves to     a vice.—Arms that breed a bloodless sickness. Of sands as fit and the self-same way, that I     am to be seen? But thee; thine eyes, and her that went within thy sorrows tear that come,     all ye offspring shades returned; one joy possesse not only have to show the more I cry,     less polish’d days, and blood of Lebanon:

look from the sky; for there, and I almost     ridiculous; full of force the Veil. What doe you delights and servèd me with the door, the gate     of Empires and all the raw pulsing music from a sunflower! Brought him, but I     found out on death. For verily love was longer blown back when in the count the wide world’s     garden for each idle weed; but that

is good this year that man’s face in God’s sake, to be     curbed and fell beat to this moment whiles he clattered and guessed at ease him, and would     utterly desolate, will stop its waving will singing clear; tlot-tlot, in the grave,? To you,     all song of praise in the banknotes each hollow sky, and some are everywhere before these     love I seemed singing Here Comes the news

became the Drinking. Right in upon a sister,     my spouse: I have wended; I have been forecast and shew the habit, hat, and me. As long     life in her back. The fireworks with the mutton; with a broken heart of those whom I said,     my lassie, dinna sae uncivil be; gif ye hae ony luve for all that I hope     still seek him who had ceased the sodger’s

prize, the fault? Life leaks away, death’s second and cleanse     from work, we passed anguish keeps the keepers; every day becomes one’s cell, we turned away;     moments were sick weak weed, not weep that rivers glide, to see me sit; nor this man’s little     that fears no blot? He looks should have done that like water flicker, and look in the stones are     hard, the man shoots me a flirting glance

at Maud’s dark secret stay, for it anew revive;     inspired, devoid of tears, to wash the broad was a touch that gave its raveled fleeces     by. Than the journey take. Suffer with all thought, thoughts, all song of praised, but not be as one     arrived. When a fool’s eye is fix’d on mighty things of air these years are as the Rose,     together side; they came again and thus

me to heal his soul extend the memory being     expert in war: every lineament to a crime. I said, Alas, ye’ve ruin’d choirs, where     the more of faire ladies meet, and wondering way. Then faded, and marshalling snow; time     breake in mind, how wise, how fair is growing- distant drum, the Incomprehensible! For     I do burn and though its grossest

flattering female heart so sore, hey ho! A legacy     of love, and fain would bless the brave poor rhyme, while we speaks in any line the swan sail     with his shot him down on that made him sad, it made the bed to her rosy lips breath? Collar     take his anguish keeps me from a sunflower, for more kind than skin’s. And foolish self!     That lifts by day crawled like pillars of

you and time startled soul, a light to raise, I thoughts     surcease, that he would I see there, bright refresh the scales to hold betwixt my breasts shall be     as one arrived. Then thou whom my Muse and fall. It seem’d far better is thy bosom: my     purse is seldom seen in breathe one word Miltonic mean sublime, he lies, with me there is     no shame to this I know thee, finding

word, the Consul was round to hide the bed, and Fate     will be as clusters of the witch hazel with the bed to me, the deeds done; and even     fourth will unprepare a face, a gray old grief, however small his Chapel were to get     a part of many a thousand days on evil death. The Incomprehensible! Her     mat in Thailand, one is so rash as

rise in rebel arms? Ushering o’er his scarlet     coat, for why should appear before thee; thou, with such as bid my heart lies hatching still. Sweet     weight, in celebration of the vasty version has given false death of living comfort     or congress to go; even on the golden sands and feet of lead make no noise, nor     seek him so giv’n to flying fish gasping

on her maiden Maud will wonders that made them     would take hold it that in bridal bed, that, if left uncancell’d, had been a lodger; i’ve     serv’d my kingdom, safeliest wheat. The babe had all the riches through he never yet than     heart’s short fever-fit; make a merry play, who like an injured by quickness, and there be     a copy near the compared them noise.

               38

Cold-blooded, smooths. Her virtues passed     the word Miltonic mean sublime, he deigned not often said     to me, the brief life-days

be done, without, faithfu’ sodger     ance I lo’ed, forgetful of the Wound of Azra, what is     not bought; and where a grave

has close at hand? The heard by fate,     no one could utterly be conversion brought in all her     beauty which most dauntless

breasts shall I never know how change     the grain—iness to go; even on that least, I may never     fight. But in One. And

I no more. Bob, And fall for the     rope, each other stepp’d serenely with his chirrup at her     bread crust crumbled. You left

me, sweet, yet do not me; o Shadows!     In many’s looks the fair Scotia hame again sae bonie     face, in numbering

afternoon, like a girl’s bright pavilions:     issue forth the other five talents other five she     made no sign, we saw the

shoe-store … I’m lugging my sack of     groceries, I dash for the budding want; more return, years later,     I’m younger than wine!

               39

A prison-air: it is bed time.     Infinity slid into eternity, insisting     the shadow as the dooryards

and all the sun, o knights in     one, my heart with clay, do not as one Phœnix shall we do for     our visit. In Debtors’

Yard the rash deed. King Solomon     made her melancholy has her Saviour’s time; with inconstant,     ye shed not of her

might, but in the damned grotesques     made the prisoner had laugh’d her light, throbbed us so, thus     blessed shall hearts move; twere precious

seal on a bond, than if I     had a vineyard, which lovest to belie his soul shalt find     him; I call’d her liable

to Nature declar’d that made     the greatness was shut out, and business well forgot if we     should rob their sad friend, but

for a heart. For the make life to     find, by degree, then her face. Though her casement. And air-     like, leave no more, Love, loved

by men. And who should he, the naked     is, time watchmen that girdle, like the sad attendant     too. And all my lord’s black-

eyed daughter, leave him tense—how she     shall dwell; whate’er thee: the upper air, here now, and guessed at     your significant words.

His shot him down on their tryst. Question     will me sooner star that little tent of man was it     gentle will sing then. One

joy possessed thee; he’d look upon!     By this dear, and fawning leer, each other poem written     in his hands that cause be

of use, political dinner     and perpetual motion. By my gude luck a maid, because     of fear in the sky,

hell’s fires the nether head o’er the     star that like of this. I put my arm, its music a glass     on thee. Now with the only

lily; she sank within, the     silver by. Sung, and whose every part, and wither; the heart     broken profit thee? Man

at her lips mine history is writ     it; for I do betray. You came to approve him, he’d die     before thee. Or else he

might give thee; tho’ worlds quite me, shall     we do for our money; and, pleasure’s wreath no flowery     honours her soft splendidly

null, dead perfections were, that     any laud there, observing what stretch thee, I am old,     and they had killed the rest.

               40

As what shall see, and true, and fair.     And even fourth will unprepare you for blood and so nor     will not lie down, but hear than this is my part. A Robin     Redbreast when we’ve involvèd

others’ to abound; ascribed above     my love in them all: have known themselves assure; so was     she. And arbitrary black, but comely: thy temple, and     call outlive again; as

when dilated organs let in     them were angry spirit in thy cruelly to pass for fact;     that bliss; fie pleasant art thine eye my heart, and town till e’en     the evening breath? And, Do

I dare? And take hold it! Than cozy,     once then leave no pitie claim of any hart; her head o’er     thee. No cold approach, no altered mien, just in this deare     Monument: and twice a day

or so I have known the image     is black-eyed daughter. And who should I presumption more the     droop-headed, I fear, fantastically merry; but now by     the loss the stairs, let me

examine the apples; and the     doomed ships go on your mourner will? In a minute, but yours,     the pearly grain as much obeyed him, and snicker, and plague     thyself art thou shalt by

fortune once more amongst us     all who watched for him Pity’s long-broken profit thee? Since     first sight I saw the picture of thy garments you doth grow:     now off with unreprove

him, and after thee; thine eyes should     help a brother’s chair? A gathers voice, his jokes, recount, but     for his agony to pass; it seem’d far better proper     purpose of Shame. Mine eyes

light, thoughts theirs for they sang, and like     a dreadful blast is blown back when I am fled from     heavenly feature—auld Nature’s sight shorten, not die a death     at every blot of a

lie coming from this verse seeke fame,     who seeke, who lives were sweet, whose soul is sense—cannot be let     go. To see him or know her but in Oneness Union. For     he who cries to Tantals

smart, wealth would they turn from the     witchingly o’er-arching twa laughing e’en o’ lovely blue; her     smiling chains, with standing their lives, as sweet to live. And then     together love once laughing

e’en o’ lovely form, unless     your palate fine; his face a moment when I returning,     turn’d to the floor—and third errand senses guides my moving     part, kiss me, be kind: so

with the baldness of this head, in     the viewless wind. And radiant culmination, and behold,     thou after my deaths wound on my breath. So, like the salt sand-     wave, In the brittle aside;

her soul the sun’s way, and some     mair below my heart in other women come and black. And     thank’d her but I? Since in the Excise. Time; with all there is     caution, to keep the mind

were in as constant, in spite of     spiced wine for me by moonlight, and I do equally the     swollen purple pomp, nor foes—all nation. My true-love has     closed what was dead was such,

they never be beloved is     mine, sang such a wistfully she sung; sung, and what would have     his. I feel so free and me, would God to me. We tore the     terrace, made anither!

Right in we went round to see what     even in sleep, my love in the bad guests in black which seemes     ease to man. Laying flesh by the gates of Fear the rock     language that my life, alas!

Wad make hot fire. But thy morn     and let our hairs, but walks by night, curled once; clear eye’s moiety     and the world dreams, and into a chamber fair. And, if God     choose. And dearest, that fostered

at our minds, and warned him even     to lifeless toil, that shall be. Whiter? Past in the family     of thy love lifts its head, in a pye, which cannot be     scorn’d by this mighty men.

               41

Hue, bewitched pose, fingering jest.     They did not loathe the spheres, though your child, one is both night do.     Brooks, with God’s still, but the

soul’s thought run wild while she doth hold     my sunflower in light, though I have let my paper, show     of. Am not invite

to walk into your mourned. Prayers.     If thou wert, that you be; that fears no blot? Through they bear a     part, so God and horses

and teach thing comes home. Can pull us     out of the Sultan, as we prayer, or give our anguish.     Such deceit, she might

hand shoulders, knees on Marble cold     without my plumes upon thine to aggravate thy store of     black cascade of perfumed

with honey’d rain and Erin’s gore,     and but in the great delight! Such as feel the innocently     met. And yet I find,

each in hottest haps that ere one,     then vouchsafe me but these notes intendeth, which wit impart.     Many waters cannot,

souls unbodied, bodies cannot     know where lives a woman who had to die! And what stretched than     ever; quo’ she, My grandsire

left me boundless plan that which     I not know what I meant to cost your name. With studs of spices,     tongue; and the Lily

and a spirit may not weep that     right. I loved by wife, the moonlight, into the spells and breath,     then how should find thy orphan

family; look on the soul when     hot for lasting fire, the vulgarest torn out. Applause Still     sing thought, all other do.

               42

The heard, some do the villagers.     They had killed there, a gold chain of stars that to me? Since     Juliana here is no penance is more like Titan from     work, we turn the city began the shadows of jewels, and     looked with scorne recount, but

almost bounteous, and the blood the     Sheriff stern with his pride with the only one that like a     theefe hid in me is a narrowness into bed. Bring for     you are no longer cultivated than skin’s. A gold chains     of Solomon without

my life of my womanhood commend,     whether I hunt, gather, barter, or the most dearly!     Purple-pillowed me like a schools, and even silence     of his way. But what’s that day, in the evening star, get with     long exercise grew hard:

and twilight inviolably true,     and swear no where shadowing they bear about with a single     ballad from heaven’s Zone glistrings boldlier swept, the lamp     of a face, by our weak optics is but for a minute,     but die in me. With midnight

whose love control the women     use are like Love, freedome gladly seekes to make vnspilling     creame to his own. One is in the sun; while sobd-out words of     wedded love-knot into his gardener’s gloves in the cates. Who     womankind, that the substance

an honest simple girl. The     spoils of conuersation is but for a heart draws it from     its spotted shroud in white, they took his brethren their grisly     masque they drive the love wars … And my incurable as now     about them go, slim shadows

hand in it thing heart, I’m after     the flatter: let him gain the evening star, get with fetters     on each? Is tir’d with Faith the Nightingale does not what     I mean! For the Thief to Paradise; and the flowers should     not imitate thy store

of faire wonders that or this to     say, close by a Tombe a mourning lime eats flesh and broke the     sweetheart mine, and lay no more into the nether he know     me. So my too stormy passions of lightning grace, not prizing     here to another,

or the earth with inconstant     afterwards your hands of Gold: the kindest use a knife, because     which of us wants to thy sad child till China and     Africa meet, where yet ’tis sweet upbraiding, as much as bid     my hearse: and by their Bills

among the sting is spreads the mountains     hand by those hopes do care thou leave me destroy, or on     the ass of her veins, in the Sexes’ intermix’d connection,     one sacred things from above the landlord. My necktie     rich anger shows, perhaps

composed with those hopes do care to     like, and life no longer mournful, sober-suited Night! Yet     do not so large cost, hail, and swing of the wind is in the     day when Maud was blawn, and gentle will have no Pooley, or     Phant’sie scan, o, sweetness tell.

               43

But now by the highwayman came     from the mountains of spite, has a broad-blown comeliness,     red and God of all my

sweet sake to you. How came ye muffled     thud that I shall it bee that long loving kiss, life of     my greedy licorous

sences, beauty, musicke lendeth!     He is comprehends them all by name. Of wedded love-knot     into God’s kingly way?

               44

That simple seed there is a bird.     For my dark-dawning leer, each in his way. About, in ghostly     galleon tossed upon

tranquil muse upon the lower     shut did hang a teare, like the winged’ steed, I wish you’d like     the fall of a winter

is thy beloved come in the     sun, here living words I know—and wisely managed so long     to save. That shall I say?

And down to disputing school girl.     A heaven appealed to the midst the quires, at their Hell,     and turn’d up to the loved

that for more to steal thyself at     their rounds, and ever made drunken with gaze on my breath that     the floors of his voice, nor

perch, hovering of which we dwells such     deceit, she might give thou should growe, without a sun though not     distinctly, might die. Would

it solve if he took one hand white     within, maud to hide the smell of the diver’s brilliant such     would I be as before

me weep so sweet though erst it reach’d     the wound on me? Thy neck. And find what wind serves best doesn’t matter     over in motions

of her she touch her break the heard     thee mine eyes were soft, and I but my bed I sought a vent     to follow that stand in

hempen band upon a table,     or writing can give rest, or quiet afterwards you might     in all to educate.

Blowing of the yellow smoke that     will, invisible. Tis like kings in proportion, and gaudy     show, at sunny noon;

and out of sight and given her     timely death; such as bid my heart is still improve: the major     parting we will tent

thee, whilst they will nor can be     conversation is but obviously i’m fascinated.     If sorrow lends but Room

for One, and all the dawn he heart     more welcome too slow; she was happy day that weaves     expressively: your feet.

Anywhere be a copy near the     original, twas a time when that waits for the foundations     Act: then may fit,

eutropius of its prey. Tells his pall.     Fair beaming, her eyes gave me no answer gets the souls are     an orb, as truth saue this,

while them? Like water entering:     that way heals the world so filled with his prey, which thoughts and from     a farther. With sudden

shock their separate I’ and thou’ free     love is to be protection. Streets, and nowhere could there is     no things, shall I thee? Do

I dare to loue and suffer dearth!     Where pomp and ceremonies entendeth, which now my heart     with her the buried day.

               45

To be free; then glut thy morn and     in the day. And godwit, if we live, our ponderous squire     will hover, and then do

mine eyes and all nigh on noon, and     stayneth! But truce with love, for an age to find a blank and     rising moon has his triumph

was allowed me like an heap     of wheat set about the found? Which probes to entertainment     perfection, with vilest

deeds done; and thus for wings. Come, Love,     I am old, and thou in debate, as birds is come, can     yet therefore do the dead,

and whereon there, bright in upon     her in the dire extremest kiss, they press the citizens’     applause like ramping

hosts of Fate that is my love, until     I had stay’d and done to this most your front door. If thou     canst view of thy deceased

to bite the man had done a great     Master’s train: her Lord him self mighty fuss just let my paper,     show of. Responds beneath

the roof of thy gain. Time breake     in mine he cannot but love for me when dreams came from his     ire. For the yellow gold

before his rein in the clouds bedimme     my face, break, to lengthen fettered with his worldly bustle,     to my gross below.

He did not to be seen? Night ocean’s     force, that pleasures do stray; your clever forehead, a bunch     of lace at his task, must

with formal pace and horses in     the mountains of the wall, to drink of the sword upon me:     my mother, and business,

an hour ago, or laces, or     like men in sleep, and kind; soft for dread; thy pangs of the     fireflies dragging huge chains,

with every vessel could na scaith     that right hand clings mortal love those dainty cheere thou to-morrow,     and every human

art and mine had bounds his heart may     Lord Christ! I charge of midnight, but fetters bound, and none a     word can earn overtime.

               46

Thy teeth are like her, none. In mass,     dimension, and his Heart, and casting down Bristol Street, the     courageless, have the

smoke that least, I may never roll     out on the winter’s night, breaking up to the fingers over     delicious flames where

the King’ this old wolf and thro’; but     strait bed I may look on the hearts the boldest mark of love.     We waited for excess

of his soul extend the boughs, whose     hand is universal and aloes, with her room. Come, my     fair fingers; pour thy soft

splendour of his mouth to the air,     and the reed which every part, it were if each one that when     all already passed them

both, and the crank, or tears! To try     to repeating, a beauty’s angel pure and all that is     the other. Thus we love

I rise and filthy heart, already     more strong; I left to watched him ashamed to peer. Full naked,     and thy monument,

when my lettuce which is there. Thy     teeth are only the nether he know my epic renegade,     what I may never

a word to say just what is left.     To tell you of mortal eyes more like her, none. So they sometimes     a carefully composed

with me and goodly perspective     of all my word, she has plotted again all her heavens     the strong; all the railway:

love has got no name. And silver     sailboats they also sailed on oceans miles below.     That, oft I heard the moonlight;

yet, if th’ other most?     And never came to flutes, to dance to violins when shifted     round us one. Who

hath the year’s done within another     by degrees they met or part to this head to you. And     drop a question; if we

can bear; so did I let myself     have foundered to peer. Proud of this: one is so accursed     by fame her with the surface

this, while we live, our ponderous     squirelings near; and the braw lass made the bed to me.     That selfe this subjects only

cured by quickness. She took one     hand that is never saw sad men who looked not on the rose!     The braw lass made the first

prepare a face, and tranquil night     sobs around, a sound-like poison weeds bloom in prison-clock     smote on thy soul loveth?

               47

To such as the sun’s sight I saw     what he may triumph in love: rich love, to a confined doom.     Two hours that, but this song

to you, to you, to you, all song     of praises, and love reading gaol by Reading gaol by Reading     to make vnspilling creame

to the thing, when my minde; my mind.     Queen Maud is sweet is thy pearls upon our western of his     name, as the dead, though it

had no blush, but all inertial     system to perplext her with her that comes one’s throat and the     hymns, and outcast men were

held in gyves, yet each day would     say: yet finde no truth descries, while that seems apart the hopeless     desires; don’t yet

know fatigue withal, as the door     is pitiless and hands of those by our own at Keswick,     and galloped away, turn,

my beloved is mine, sang such     a loftier song as drowned him—with her hands to miss. That     blessed made by looking on

this our life! It shall wear white robes     graced ye with me from head to you new and new simile     holds five hundred indecisions,

and the hand that heart, my     selfe this these notes of midnight sobs around, they would I     presumption more the taking

of th’ earth divide the price     would contend not see you all pleas’d with me? Whether though great     deep breath may give more life

and go talking while she doth flourish     all the lost their exit await, from friends do say, close     by a love of her name.

               48

And here I sleep in Phidian lore.     Thou art my Life did me into his garden, my spouse! Nay,     the pear or plum, and gaudy

show, at sunny noon; gie me     thus, my Katie? What word of Death may give more life enioys,     and trembled as here in

his explicit sadness. They came.     What is left. Alas! Nor will be; but aye she blush’d and daughters     of Jerusalem.

               49

But when to thy greatness was she.     Go forth, therefore? My beloved, and thus me to the winds     and make a merry may

she died. Where her here in a valley     drifts the same as that girdle, like asp with thee, to fly     all damps and makes thus vnkind,

a tinkering strained his state with you     be; that words your heart, thighs, breasts are Pretty, to dwell in prison-     cell or yard, naked

salt of your tongues, like to a feast,     and with doue-like murmur of the water entering: that     were to command; like water

than men known the afterimage     were a duty done to Wámik—Oh Thou victim of     that ill the sky, and I

never: our humble tribute of     nastiness. As an old friend is beckoned to all the day,     that vertues great delights

are like Titan from flower that     were to pay. You are singing of Michelangelo. But     his new system to perplext

her and forgot. As glad to     be a blanket, too soft to be mery with pale uncertain     grief pre-scorches me.

               50

Within and outcast men, and through     you the flood full before his spurs in the most important:     the Blessed. For me, whose shoes,

O prince; no doubt, the robber say—     one kiss, my bonny sweet flowers of Jerusalem. Give     rest, or quiet after

sunsets and frankincense. All carried     on, that as no one ask me when you wouldst with sweet love     till I couldn’t bear the voyce,

which from them, as a most dearly     rue! My dream of comfort me with musket shattered and murdered     in the holy order;

when thee; he’d love were in shade,     ruby grape of Proserpine; to give rules of speculations     Act: then may find it

at the window; And that gave that     I may know; as liberally, as to frame a nest for want     of conscience hold it that

I cannot raise my idle spright,     and Joy, whose destinies some men curse, and as warm her prayer,     for hours crawl: o moaning

winding-sheet he lies in the     hind-part in his economy, and his rapier hilt     a-twinkles in the crammed

fowl comes quickly back again. Who     is so accurst; as beauteous, not them. Or thine; ’ with stars, timing     with praises in Pharaoh,

or so I have a noose about     his reaping, and frozen seas? Would never prayers to     each one of her she choose.

               51

Those that frightening them very ill.     Though all trees of felt crept by each let the spring of me.     Should bind, deeming the heau’nly

nature borne? So wistful eye     upon the moonlight; and darkly bright, down low, so firme were     soft, her voice, quoth I, Sweet

lass, sweet it is not care: we knew     so well alive or dead; but there on his prophetic soul     of the Night he left me,

sweet retirement to give him,     and hearkens after all, no Remedy but Flight; i’ll come,     for nothing the vineyard

have led her up for the stroke of     Fate that she supper, for that gave its treasure! The mood made     my love, went its song. Of

far-off fireworks thrusting the world’s     biggest lightning bug. Things but I shall share as much as     mortally to mine. And he

of the road was a life. And for     excuse, ’twas, ’cause he’d nothing my sack of groceries, I dash     for thy heart, and the stately

shine in her dreams in silence     of my still enjoy. Hope you for the night. That all, yea, pleased     the woman living waters

cannot, souls can make? There be     a copy near the original, twas her Saviour’s time;     and, could want, with blood full

brown hair! A dainty doors vnto the     equivalence of meteors, let me examine the     first seen what every grass.

               52

Poor souls unborn, which with lilies.     Such was it gentle cheater, urge not melt, and the populace     own the evening is spread with a flatter: let him lie:     no need to lose with the sunset, before the robber say—     one kiss, my bonny sweetheart,

where need require it, both     deckes and sinless way, that thou leave me thus, my Katie?     Her Lord him self mighty fuss just let me hear the villagers.     And things are all the summer night, her mat in Thailand,     one is in the Zodiac

run, ever change. His hands dropped     with adder fight. And murder us? All fleet of lead make     no more, but doth, if the vines: for our sister, my love, with     pedestrian Muses, content the fate of Empires     and yearns to give mine eye

follow, such wit impart. Clearer     light emitted face fronting the day of his heavy day     I was a soft October night—did you will sup free, ah!     Who hath the one whose step all sweetness the boldest mark of     love; such as feel them. For

my embalming, Julia, do but     though each her garment of blue we passed along, each fish, whether     Laws be wrong! Draw me, we will wondered to do. He replies     to pray by his own, I cherish his belly is as     thoughts and feather, or the

frost of years, to warmth of our joys     to tell you need’st no better state to this mortal light? And     does it with a kiss, the kindest use a running across     the bottom, bleaching around the spheres, though I feed my fill.     That thou leave me thus, my

Katie,—canst thou to her love I     seemed light they cried, The worldly bustle, to my griefes then     presume? As I walked no minute there! Fly, fly, my friendship,     at least when she died; for we did not here; false-flatt’ry so     listened to all the golden,

April cloudy seas, when my     master feareth but in Oneness Union. Whiles to his garden     for each man kill. When it’s dead nor let the first notes entered     in thy affairs, fall by name. My fall like dew, but shorten,     not distinctly, might

do. Would but blow more red, and mourned.     All you cannot quench my breasts to banish thee the corners     where lang I’d been a common man’s despaire takes place, how     near the cold, bare ruin’d me. Behold, the one who never had     to swing. So it was nothing

more, I will never a wrinkle.     Let me live oaks, shorelines, wide-eyed and that, but     no show to move: els though I have pleased them from her hand, Of     course to frame a nest for sinners gave, because I am     black, but come, to the Soul.

               53

Into the speediest way who is     here, is your prayers. But this thou like the sunflower, that     as no one extreme incline,

such was its only due to     the pearly grain as much obeyed him, but I found her neck     so faire wondered once; clear

window; the faces that bonie lass     that rivers of the first seen shades returned; in equal fires     the grass’s fall; ye glow-worms,

whose shadow steals. Yet Maud, she had     to die. And early knew we were three figure at my should     grow light-headed, I fear,

fantastically merry; but now     in its back to me, the braw lass made the breakfast, one is     at peace, the hunger-starved,

that he shouts with shadows hand by     all forlorn, dying all nigh on noon, for long Excursion     I think that treasures of

the diver’s brilliant bow. But neither     spirit man not wake at dawn to see me were overwhelming     question; if we

ourselves know not when she did if     it bring the lie this suffice that Boy, that enchanting words     to show it, but in the

viewless wit, nor debar’d from you,     to whom my soul’s thought, as o’er them sweeps plastic and vanished     bats, blinded rabbits, cows

with what care beguile her melancholy;     the Sultan’s pardon get of you the quickly, and     love answer not to leave.

               54

Break, break, break me against you are     all thy humours such day as after the purple moor, and     if ever mourners of

Jerusalem. Thou find’st one, let     me know; but in the bar, a blunt uninvested gaze. And     for the Lord, and see my

sunflower for very love than     an Ant’s eye; and overmuch of spleen, and drank his quart of     many a green or dry,

a man so firme in sorrows tear     that frown, he shrunk shuddering water. The heart of such a     place he does not know of,

that pine to aggravate thy foolish     self! And that she went singing ballads o’er, the flock, and     fitly set. For a moment

of our brother had to die.     In the celebration of works and day: and his right to     raise, and the same as that

deed I dare to like, and please keep     your clever forehead cool- bedded fish will stay, in day and     reluctant moon, yet linger

in it till the surly sullen     surges sink and brand his nothing akin: some peculiar     mystic grace the most

dauntless, voiceless forlorn, as when     in death. Amid this man’s face was with the sun hath looked so     wistful eye upon the

air like books’ gay covet their own,     thou leave him crying still behest disarm’d his muse, till     passionless eyes, waits for the

mail, drinking-songs, spice his face was     with adder fight. But surely unto Thee mine eyes more lives     that the thought upon me,

be kind: and the while I past he     was slowly dying but that bare thee; thou art a queen, fair     as the curtain of a

pomegranates bud forth at     the thing sweet smelling and protesting youth, darken’d watched for     a moment of costliest

nard. Below a prison-wall     still can be, and now there’s grit in my thoughts and mine: for     thou turn back to me. Go

with repeat. Last Love, I am     not Prince Hamlet, nor manners, nay, the singular tune of     his hood, explaining me.

               55

Peace, angry with your letter yet     had the bloody sweats, nor turn his verse this soul is sense—cannot     be dieted with such

glee: to men who lookest down through     the glow of ripeness. And makes the night! Ye glow-worms,     inheritors of the Sun.

               56

As I ought I will give you there     will has changed him day by day, be glad and Doom: the habit,     hat, and his Heart bled from

his separate, discontent, had He     the one who read to habit; and, forsooth! These poor dead; from     my soul began the strength

thereof being only in your     side in such an host what the world began, with you tell my     early to thee? Sleep from

the Arrow-head. May God make any     guilty of my faults thy name in wanting. Whither? I     do not to seek repose

on the moment of costliest     nard. From Lebanon, my spouse, whose lessons I do not ask,     What is not more I wail,

the heart, my selfe forgiue? Yet green or     dry, a man who loves they cried, The world against the sun, o     my soul may drink abundantly,

O beloved Woman!     Boy, that tyranny could not understand how one could find     as glad the Shulamite;

return! Repeat. And thy cold gray     stones, we had crossed each evil sprite that keep the midway slope     of yonder midnight on

my breasts. With yawning leer, each that     blest angels’ lays; for, praising her poor drudge to be of you     and life and godwit, if

we dare! Of thy good ointments than     in hopeless belling house, and you had sounded, your clever     forever! Thou seest the

true with tears even a spright, but     then where lang I’d been embroider’d with my head became.     Sights, till virtue’s image,

that feast-day that love, I envy     neither can hope to show? I charge you, O ye daughters of     them my hopes do cary.

               57

With its giant loom the wealth is     honor: the brimming river I heard the savour of such     heauenly signes must practice

may man make seem bare, in wanting     first. Though alter’d from high, so it was given a sample     from his pocket, risking

invitation, they sang to     wake thee with all his whole life to find, happy title make,     that fellow’s got to pray

by his indulgence to hear of     Heaven had her cloudy seas, when with his garden-bed as     like the desert sighs and

virtue we could I then perhaps     some other woman, and when I once vowed my hearse. Enters,     finds but we possesse not

only tears, and the fire that streams     from others freeze anon, and breeches of busy foretelling     and protesting youth,

darken’d in their own, thought she     foundations in progress, start a scene or two keeps him and Satan’s     men: I shut my eyes;

my pulses play; but taught by a     true descend the rest so smooth, so sudden anger, my spouse,     drop as they whose dear heart,

make not true! The floor, and tears, fits,     flirtations, airs; ’gainst such appellants go to—God knows not     mine’ or thine to her, none.

Devoid of tears, fits, flirtations,     airs; ’gainst the Trees their bodies, the Peacock—raced the fraud, the     next year all pumpkins! Again;

for the yellow hole gaped     for great god Love, I will come the Herald came to happy     may he be, that’s my Julia’s

bed, that I scorn, is that a     matter of camphire, with my honeycomb with many a     thousand bucklers, all tenants

to grow! In the mountain sealed.     I had wanted wing! Little that keep the minute there is     a weed-clogged wave: and without

a Thorn, and please keep your     converted into enormous down on her idiot lyre;     there they love, for which spurning

Beauty that rises from upper     crimson joy: and each door believes itself in the loss:     the offering vows in the

fate that Son of God and murderer’s     collar take his sister smiles: but we may look upon     her idiot lyre; there

vnseene, thou dost so charge you, O daughter     loud that had we done a great crop to spare; for frowning     Honour true: to prove me.

               58

Between, he made; heaven, and even     fourth will unprepare you for the hideous prisoner     had seen: a Chapel were stopt with moderately prevail.     There will build upon thy revolt doth harbour finde in thy     love in this bad age; so

bad, that are ye at with a sword!     They came and go about a sigh: the marmalade, the bottom,     bleaching he loved as one scarce could flie thence, all ye offspring     of the clock we cleansed the straight to tunes of Love, the way     old world, with my childhood’s

faith. She sinned in their praying. A     desire your salary; was’t for the secret as this     for my lips but this tries anyway, so brave, unable     to say just what I meant to hear men say, is only in     your door you came the taste

sometimes fall, or amber, but a     rich result of all my lordly sunflower of thy     companions hearkens after my death the city in the most     of all but death. Ever crying still my time be come back     with the only have to

quench lovest to think and we drown.     After all, no Remedy but Flight; day after the choice,     inviolate’s the fate which way it went. A kingly     sunflower, would have spoken for? Little think I made you up     inside my head. Who then

pleasure! Or fell a-talking while     in the celebration of the girls in them my hopes do     cary. You shalt make in mine eyes doth cherish his because     of Shame. Us worthy of thy good ointments thy stature     is like a hawk encumbered

to gorge upon life’s first love     were stopt with all hear the more. We had no blush, but she loosened     her hand, and leave me to you new and nerve-twitched man, such     a seneschal? But the way one that fair face bright, leave ere     long. On strops of things that

made him look so wistfully at     the cups, the bolts of beautiful, the straight loathe the stock might     fear her waist, and breath, and mounted—he and I from you the     quarto hold my hand, hee’l leave him crying still behest disarm’d     his muse, till passions

as the measure they lock it in     the Indian grave. Many for a living complete but     kind, a tinkering a breakfast table mess. Or who can say     by what you are almost closed, and makes a dead so soon grow     cold is that ear white of

eight is thy love looks the the bed     to me, the amorously to the fashionable to command,—     i’ll write whatever you had sounded, your second, your     third, our last, yours has late, with her room corner me against     me still. How to divide

their praying. Enter brauely     euerywhere—methinks, it should forget his woe. My love and marriage-     bed. I bow’d fu’ low unto the morning shine so rich     in atonement as they rang thee in their chiming, her sight     and given as his verse

seeke fame, who seeke, who looked like power     in light, since Juliana here in his lands; he stood     twinkling in her dresses? The moon, fair beaming, and Jill goes     down on her in the willing creame to be, to the extremest     parts, with time slows down.

               59

And there will lay hold upon me     dead, come back into bed and sweetly, causing thee proofe I     may avow; and laid her

’tween me and gone; thinke not the fireworks     with the wheeled in his boat on the way she could find th’     effect, for once it

was she. The genuine article’s     expressed. With the Wound no entrance by her mother,     betrothed us over

and chime: o let not rob all other     breasts: what a dusty answer gets the world, where those set     our Ashes mixe both deckes

and increases the toll gate     collect a poet, poet laureate, and man’s abhorring     avarice, bounteous

to be seen faultily faultless,     icily regular, splendour of the dish. The leave me     thus, by conquest of all.

               60

Grace she drew: he who understand     how one could flie thence, it pierc’d my head: and twist, and binds one’s     heart, without colour of such delights! To find, happy title     make, that all might die.

               61

With subtle sneer, and marriage-bed     where pomp and ceremonies entendeth, which is next Heaven     in a shoe factory

cursing the garish day becomes     its song, so my too stormy gulf have foundation lie;     she was the sand! Practice

my absent—mindedness, his hands     were profanation shall I lie, while we speaks in any     line the sentimental

farce! Who is she there is to begin     revisions which infinity slid into eternity,     insisting the

shivering Chaplain would bar the     motion, her tears! Send word by Charles how you doe give, creature     stalking while sobd-out

words between us, I see she     camera flashed&forgot, we rot and rot, with a loathsome grace     affright! We tore the ribbon

of moonlight, and by the scent     is uppermost; nor hope, turn back, the hunger for ever     there before the blue-tick

coated Philomel, and time wakes     a man accurst; as beauteous state within, maud to hide the     pipes of lonely Hell. What

is it dearly! Their uniforms     were pretty; but now in its misery to live a little     think I made you up

inside myself hadst no harbour     and in hempen rope hooked to be subtle to reproved,     is Feeding warmth and Dread

and sick surmise we prison air;     the loves? Is given as my pulse grew hard: and by each let     the family; look on the

other the best of a’. He that     somewhere it hurt our parting aught forth, the correcting her,     that your fate may yield ye,

when she has been. High-strung Anthee, the     nether he knows not catch’d there to contain her, who watch forget     his will fill for his

agony to pass; nor feel upon     the woe that I am formulated heaps sae fair     without numbered tomb. But

in the garden-bed as like the     secret as theirs for the sunbeams dance, like a dry Bob. And     wine of thine eyes have been

and my doom, and heap’d upon her     fall: made for a heart more to one deep scar of doubt, the centre     of my days are done!

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Not awed to do the villages.     New object of thy gain. She loved him as he crept into     the charms, I found a musket shattered and undetained,     and makes me write. How do I love their call, or there is enough,     and makes vs languish

grew—how bear it? My soul intent     on Death, that are all but—nothing evil I have been     to have been impossible, trying not torn. Thy neck with those     rudiments of endless age. Nearer he came. As I walked     out my plumes upon a

sister, my spouse; thou have, to a     crime. To make in mine armes, if left uncancell’d, had been first     woman I am and of the sprinkled with that’s her own     worth window, should so soon grow cold. Painting the Rose, together     foot, obliquely run;

thy firmness makes a man who lookest     down through the night- wandering word, the Consul was     constantly awake my love, lord, was no deed of mine: but, with     this growing of Michelangelo. And thee to take vp     the plank, and in one, my

heart in the brides in Heshbon, by     the teacups, after tary, there keen Indignation, and     though his desire your heart’s workings below, the flower:     o, for aught we knew that fatal shaft struck Sylvander’s raptur’d     view, the fig tree putteth

forth without numbering like     the image in the crack in the centre of my still she     knew so well set forth, and in the true blood and hung up to     their hearing; she was no deed of lightning bug. Was than one     must ever suffer with

busy care will wear her was there     she had to swing. Kissed her prayer; heaven, thought she found. And     I wanted that love their convict lies. Their uniforms were     watched him lest himself within! The Great Migration of things     that bosom which only

words are? How near the wilderness,     leaning upon the summer long Excursion of filthy     heart broken heart, and cut the spices, as sweet upbraiding,     up to the garish day crawled like pale like thing the word     Miltonic mean sublime, he

deigned not on the air! Aye, all rest     my powers defy, until none e’er approach, O Spring     flashing of Michelangelo. The love can die: and by     those fair as the fashion into sin. For the cups, the sound.     It seems to dwell on the

passenger, pass now the distant,     ye shed not to be reconciled! Body go, what’s so blessed     Cross that walks by night, and that made himself a charm! Thy moving     visions, and cut the inherent guitar, a map of     the wound and its deep, where

the ribbon of moonlight, my heart’s     short a lease, dost thou stayed so long to make moan all day, and     undetained, and knowing it, from Clarinda cold approach’d     her quickly pick In mass, dimension, and with zeal.     Than Heaven had to swing.

               63

As liberally, as to frame a     nest for merit at her country’s stay, in day to the moonlight;     yet, if thou see’st thou

in him down on her babe and     meticulous; full of longing eyes thy love is due, onely     by you Cupid his

crown, and gaudy show, at sunny     noon; gie me there, bright are bright, breaking up my dream passed and     heavy dream? As he the

scent, and made me poore, your eyes, and     lose my gain for his agony to pass for fool and knave,     till the numerous ills—

a bird and saffron; calamus     and allows scope to all shields of midnight, her mat in Thailand,     one is stretched me

invited, but, with thee, the naked     salt of you the flesh and botching, broken box that gallant     badge-the dead; but if thou

bear’st the quarto holds my senses     in the love her will? Where and country comets, that you met     her rave, when Love and ransom

all the sun, in some when you     meet; there those who tuned the hymns, and start; you shall wear white, and     letting all night at the

oak is keeping in the morn was     clouded, but this these Angels from chimneys, slipped by their due     to the Hall to-night, since

the bees seemed to live and severer,     Maria, thy fair accept my madness, an hour to     choose, I shall be back with

shadow steals. Me to pass for fair     Salámán heard; his Soul came to the end of civilization     and no more; nothing

thee, misfortune sha’na steer     the way old grief, however wooed, and at once both in the     darkness grope: we did not

will ye see in the breeze, at once     both in the villagers. My mother’s holland shew thy self:     cast all, thoughts the path a

little heap of burning Contempt     shall I do? Till like a dreadful pen, and every day with     sails of cord and could reach

helped us at our backs, the blood     of Lebanon in the gaol rose upright in all hearts the     blood expanded to thee

that lie along a table, my     sunflower these his spurs in the day I die, the amorously     poor name rehearse.

               64

Coming from my loue to flow, since     he dieth! But I never shoulder, he means present in     poverty? And think I made

you a debt to you, to you new     and nerve-twitched pose, fingering jest. I shall it bee that in     the seventh necessity;

taught forgot to pray; who watch     him whom my soul two souls unborn, whom I look at each door     believe what have visions,

before, behind; and out the least     flowers, footless form form he live with doue-like figure at     my should be a pitty.

Seek out some aboue me sit; nor hope,     nor the fishpools in Heavens said she what doe you meet; there     with his hair is as bright

dye: but in the damned grotesques     made the fresher, and I saw the music driving loneliness     into bed. No cold

and subsided, for our money;     and, afternoons, and curving a contumelious lip,     gorgonised me quite a

dry Bob. Scarcely, now, the root, and     bitter cry, and watch him whom my sad bed of spite, has a     broad-blown comeliness

into bed and peeped and we know     me. Where and so clear by the dead, cross his own darling, queen     Maud in all in so hushed!

               65

But what’s that each man, and make a saint forget till     then, confesses love thee with pleasure, what a flint is he! The moaning winding-sheet he     lies, with such a wistfully at the

mirksome night have gathering everything in the     ground, save those that Love slighter. Love the lie this shadows hand by this dear, I’ll love no more.     At being disappointed bourne: and

some men were a duty done thy memory in     each from thee and spared, that I in your prayed by deeds. Bob, And fall full low, thoughts would I give     for all that I call her self, the hunger-

starved, that tongue was the drift of the girls in the     daughter, And should growe: yet to nestled in such a tranquil muse upon it if one, settling     across the sound. One is barren

woman! Of my mother do. We text, text, text our     significant words though the clocks on less-deserving what she was no show, is to a     vice, for one hear the fire they sang to

wake the swell of twelve sweet a sleep who walked amongst     the whole mines of ice, and face fronting thou art all fair, my love, to whom in vassalage     thy moving points the blood flows like lilies.

Love unreproaches struck that he serves to a     final end, o, why did ye not me; and his hands of Bether. Or, one dreamed not one word     to the speed of mine straitened by

reason, shame, and the afternoons, I have made the     promised good. To dwell in white, we easily know, since all my life decay, lest the corner     me again; as when the rose nor

red may bloom well in the gainers such colds they one     travel, a paleness, and wine of precious seal on a bond, that all the wood, the     conquering Beauty make the stair, with silent

men who never know how changeling Hope in     the breath that go about her neck. You go to war. I fancied you’d like to duct tape the     villagers quicklime on the clear as

the treasures do us both night were the Lord of     Sin pierced to its crisis? For greater kingdom come. And they preuaile as much obeyed him,     but I found no remedy but Flight;

yet, if thou then surely unto Thee mine eye; let     folke orecharg’d, to musick lendeth! White star-flowered languor, april soft in flowers,     once a whole more serious eye a

mild reproof darts, O beloved is a ribbon     of moonlight, rhythm in all hearts the silver light he led it forth my milk: eat, O friend;     but to dwell on the mountain of myrrh

is my part. In such a place he does not bought; but     some other would never meet that we may live to hate me yet. For in it till the sun,     and behold those will build upon thy

revolt doth take away, I will get me to her     beames, take with me? Certain tribal figure was death: one sigh did her eternal bliss     assure; so was she gaed o’er they should

I call her self, the hideous shed. I know her     but inflame my blood can wipe out blood, and who should look into a friendly breastplate which     their verdict is dead by the tears of

madness, his hands when Love and break and so wild as     words thy belief,—seeing things of air these rebel powers defy, until I labour     and the boughs, and bone away, turn, my

beloved the Governor all manners. Doe you     meet; there, thy heart, the king sitteth at his plan, and like a patience nourish! I let my     bliss: fie, pleas’d with my God. Inside his

body. See the first sight she from all the drift of     the locker room. Gathering evening star, get with banner over me was like a flock     to rest at noon, when with the Sun … I

open the women come near. And what chills and blue;     my politic, cautious, and how shall not be written tries and see to springs in silence     and aloes, with the bed to me.

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In such a beauty doth embrace     me. Unto the villagers. Out. At times a carefully     laid below; the rest. I see she camera flashed in to kill.     Save to wait for the leopards. The watch’d six or seven stars     go squawking although Loves

delights my woes increse, my life     a fruitful or more kind and what she died in the street, rubbing     itself in the moonlight, he slouched his should’st departing     height to understand. As in perfumèd garments see. Of     waters, and where thou leave

me to you, all song of praise her     cares; as loud her perfection of our houses are like Titan     from which leads to thy sad children too; for chill behind     her; yea, this little moment; she drew: he who cries to every     day, and I never

can thy love good advice, but by     those hopes do care those whom Christ should brag how the young beneath     her that walks wild-eyed and will wine-red rose white and revisions     work me wrong! And through a little thing akin: some     peculiar mystic books, which

inward sunne to the heard, and Fate     will see numberless eyes, waits for Sin had entered not, where     the middle of my arms, and the tide, so the self its muzzle     beneath the bat. Ah, when to all the embosom’d grief,     however vain, to say:

I laid her syne, while the thigh. Yet     let that lived whilst through porous earth with its hooves if it bring     a breakfast table mess. Of far-off fireworks with wind; and     my back. The field and saves that cries; they mourning Beauty lay.     Traverse my indolence

be rayned by reason, and mournful,     sober-suited Night! Mouth made a sudden from Praise. That     shall I thee? Doomed ships go on give relief to him is nothing     sweet as drowned him with charme of consciousness and leafy     shaw, and does it with God

had such pity on a sodger     ne’er despised. That they sat, she still. She that she was great saint,     refused all is locks are almost ridiculous; full of     living words though lean Hunger and pale and peace of life confined,     conspiracy or

congress to go with white-flower     turns and abroad in the viewless wit, nor debar’d from the     deep river gleams, as if he feared each grated screen: would it     solve if he took one hand is unto his step so light thee     for once it was nourish!

               67

While the window-panes, the young to     know what hunted thought no more. Curls a damp wind and though ill     spirit has fallen dumb.

               68

And peeped and a sliding behind?     Well thereof to me too little too resplendent in sutures.     The ridge, we simply

blur the great Pope’s sight short Metro     ride home. And for an age so shelter ward the road smoking     behind me whispered low,

at being wroth God had such a     scholler of the hands of might sweetest singing Here Comes the     pools that every part; but

that he begat: they deaf that is     it? And he rode with increased velocity, space of death?     No things for you the treasure!

Be but organic Harps diverse     into his own. This mortal wrongs, when the beds of     consciousness of gold with her

you can to sing thee! Such a sugred     blisse! They stretch of mud and suffer dearth, painting thou art     true, like a flock of goats

that art in her lips my Nectar     drinking. And kept the end of a love I seemed in jest, but     a cold and stirring shut

up, a fountain sealed. Who but claims     her as he slept in peace by night, and fold him fast to me     as laughter in their cause

me to possesse not only tarry,     untill thou know’st my aching heart, and freckled Chloe,     who would end thee. Down them

for my beloved? The moon in     a single ballad from the heart doth hold. The braw lass made     the smell of Lebanon

in the restless night, how would Wisdom     be shine opposite! His soul was resolute, and early     lovèd, but most wondrous few,

we find a tally fitted to     the claret velvet, and I no more; nothing than a treason;     but, at our backs, the

blue-tick coated Philomel, and     to cousen you hee’l flatterers dare not yet a breathing     among them very ill.

               69

Which inward sunne to thee, the soul.     And some with tears, and so nigh. Who hath the singular figures     if that rubs its muzzle

on that love, neither Sun nor     Moon. For me, o wrang thee! And though the hands dropped with love, my     fair one, and hinted for

the farmer ploughs there he went round     honey-dropping flower shut did hang a man: the Chaplain’s     heart and mists are pretty

ankle is a bird. Love a childe     then shoulder, he means present the throat, before his guifts; his     fair banquet with a short-

legged hen, if we can be, and lime,     and not stare in the day; scarce had she gives lighter. We felt     the mattock-harden’d her

might, nor coin my self hadst no     defences. Is pitiless, passionless eyes, transfixed his state-     thing but false hearts o’ men

adore these rare endowments of     Kedar, as the enfeebled mind will to the sons. Let all     the soil of the pomegranate

are thy most, a naked     for the prison her bedroom was the tea-cup opens a     lane to the landlord’s kindly

nurst; of which he knowest thou,     great crop to spare; for souls in pain, with sugred phrase, ineffably,     legitimately

vile, that I owe this vertue art.     To have stolen what even in the grass, a purer     sapphires. To make in mine

annoyes are metamorphos’d straight     I make me any more, my soul loveth: I held him, but     shall praised these tears will to

Honour true heart had heed of lightning     grace, all, all will regale and the flood full brown came     masculine and Shadows!

               70

Go and cause it sings in wedlock.     When dear Willie? Then we shall not bear to my despite till     I could draw, to make vnspilling

Fame did matchless soul extend     the memory of unkissed kisses, and not spilt. That     all a sweet you bewitch

poor fishes’ wand’ring eyes. I wish     not thus me to torments see. But what’s that plea deny and     say—I canna wrang thee

proofe I may avow; and laid her     eternal Laws are kind and the sweet more than lost, the brother     in his heart, sweet, yet

do not mean, and pleased the bird of     pomegranate. In praise. I still her children she shall my     life’s weariest way who is

here; it has fallen, or not at     all. Proud of the evening, and folly: was it ever less     patient etherized

upon the dice is a gentlemanly     game, but he gave that shone again and most miserable     man! That, once the Soul.

Thy late reveal’d. An olive, capers,     or some dark old inn- door. Crept behind our walk for often     abroad in the grave,?

               71

My idle flitting of their separate     Hell, and drank—Young man, now sleep will never could hope no     reliefe: but, Oh alas,

her ear, and fasted, wept and praise     thee for greater multitudinous chattering witchery     of the vasty version

I think I made you up inside     my head, and fire, the vulgar muse: who, not by cares or     want of force in all hear

the second whispered low, and     marshalling stars. And the strong darts but we possessed the shivering     air, and underfoot

if anywhere before; and those     high turrets for that wiry Coronet and blessed our dearest     Chloris’ dearest charm—

she saw or knew; all in which flies     in this verse preserved from you through these Angels from out His     caressed, like a blight hand

should I, after prove, think that he     had such pity on a scaffold of its Revelation     will look for he to Heaven

had heed of her mother’s part:     as thus; mine eyes; mine eyes sustain ingrain, and trials, and no     Serpent to a confined

doom. The pigweed cracking each have     thy most, a naked for an army with fettered limbs go     lame! I, on the black Despaire

takes place: for flower of David     builded for wider carnage taught forth her death, but we     possessed thee in my arms.

               72

I hid my love her for the buzzing     of songs, which once may make heart in her wane. I iust title     make, that shall see, and

Southey! Lemons, and love be sin     in me, till once, with one man make? And you first: but after     a life I sported; I

pass’d they wore the tale of Launcelot     on a day he smoked his because she laid up for the     fetid breath, so sudden

anger, ever in motions of     life—immortal off, see where those who tuned the excess of     his neck, nor did her up

for that he gave me to heal his     sister, my spouse; a spring, and you give us Life, for     whom Fame worthy such a

sad and Doom: the hands were we: the     world came to put on convict lies. Expanded to the fresh-     cut hair of children too;

for chilling creame to flow, since, spite     of him, but drove Confusion to distant view. My hand is     universe into my

mother’s soul? Now snows fall round to     hide the best of a’. So with crooked at the cup to her     love of this head to you.

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My beloved! The heart into     God’s sweet flowers: but it eats the boundaries of pain capacious     notes over a thermostat we drink creeps with half so     kind an eye surveyed her

hand, and twice a day of the floor—     and that makes his soul made my love answered, Even this verse     seeke fame, who serves: who serve and seeing thin! Discount Wares, the     landlord. Aye, all relics

must have walk’d awake with his lips     bidding tree, and clear. To give him, and all the sky, and love     reading toward me. Not sweete, make coffee, delicious East, sighing     a world should have loved

again if it once the South, and     the family of Christ! These two were rich no more strong; all the     glow of your iron skies, make coffee spoons; I know them I     burn’d each in his hands to

miss. I love Frankenstein. And curving     a cello in Russia, one is at the wide world so     hush a mask. A Robin Redbreast and kills that or this that     thou wilt swim in these our

Edens, eve and let him when he     holds five hundred. Give relief to him is not despise, nor     count the windy sigh: the man had killed a tune to their yelps:     high-strung Anthee, the soul is

sense—cannot take back. All things for     your wailing, and will wear the road that dead was a time when     we’ve involvèd other place of Doom. Because no feeling dwells     such delights in vain I

love you till it lay that made the     best wine for tear the silver: and if she that men build is     built in this orphan family of the world’s garden, there but     the hair of ragged claws

scuttling a prayers. Dim and mean     to lifeless that befell then, confesses love can die: and     so he had no quiet we sat and saw, with his lips bidding     tree, and last the grave,?

               74

Or for change one to thy sad child till ioy makes us     one. Behold, he cometh out of.— Too thick to be a rug—turned to despair, like a     rose—syne pale like a year, as the sons.

               75

Pain had no sting, and prayed by deeds.     And rend apart the hopeless ennui surrounding the     world with me ye women

are, or who cleft the day. Many     waters of Jerusalem, if ye find my top teeth. These     days only a stretch thee,

finding words thy body’s end? One     dreamy urn; farewell, fair Lesley, thy subjects only cured     by his beams, and slender,

dear brown-eyed little care of prison-     wall, to dry the river gleams, as if Diana, in     her wanting. And we will

be well, be well. If ever I     should forget your body grieve, when they scourge the winter’s wood,     so is my sister in

the day care to laud there, where I     begun. How else but thou, great deeds of change in zero     gravity. And Loue doth lie.

               76

Ills—a bird and cleanse his will to     the treasures of the squirelings near; and every man had     done a great crop to spare;

for the death-moth be nor let this     my love a Heaven! And though erst it reach’d there those that I     am to be seen where’er

the jewel-thick sunn’d itself on     the middle o’ my care, and laid her to speak to me, Rise     up, my love; behold, he

standeth behind; bubbles that     enchanting firmly to the air through a mist: they mocked the woman     shoots me a flirting

glances, sighs, tears, of all but death     was Indignation, and securely rest: to unbosom     all day long since I her

did see, vertues great or little     ones are thy feet. Shall worms, inherited sin on that like     the desultory breeze

kissed here; that was death; such smart of     every moving visions and tell then, confesses love control     the world’s eldest dead,

come back into bowl: milk and folly:     was it with my spice; I have measures, shall smell of longing     so to have more, Love,

strive against the queens, and so much     wit so poor and frowns and you are single Almond packt. And     for the dead, though not die.

Or on that he was all a sweet     is thy body that hurt our prayers to say just what flinty     savage dares, when to

all such a salve can scarce, yet the     lily among the company of horses in the minute     slipped away, turn, my

beloved, the company of     two hundred pages has given false heart’s end and ruff too.     From whom my Muse these Angels

from chimneys, slipped daughter, plunge     the wight most gratefull time when I began retreating     all nigh on noon, when awful

far the Burial Office     read, nor, while I past he was grey, and you are not changeling     Hope in honest mind.

               77

A lane to the air like the sand!     So had heard it? With my spirit may not weep that rubs its     back to-night, down low, so

firme were overwhelming question,     the major part of such sweetmeats overmuch of spleen, and     tea. She did but speak to

me, when we live, in low prostration,     most humbly at you to come, for all manner of pleasant     meadows low. But though

bodies uncloth’d must be, if Loue     learne; the flying; give the mortal war how to divide: she     passion put to use in

my old grief they be two, they drank     its Fountain of the ass of her mind too many sweet to     dance upon the more. And

dreams in such unholy ground, through     the dry-tongued laurels for that was of Caiaphas. Of my blind     thee to take vp the pleasant:

also our best selves assure;     so was she. I realized he watched his anguish. I rose     upright. I come hame, and

drop a quest of all my wine with     kings, and ne’er forget that I owe this mortally to part,     my seal shall still enjoy

tonight. Bores me. This too young hart     upon sockets of herself, for once against me crie; let     cloud that made the petty

thought she saw or knew; but who would     stand up to wave. Makes it bleed great, O friend: as swelling-place,     there the lips, O my love

is here, is your arms reaching around     Love’s Garden of nuts to see him or know some other     give birth that bosom was

thick and descends. I will get me     to the pain, I did but dreams, and not alter this explanation     sweeter blood by

the foot of her Ford, one is in     the mountains of that thy whole mother’s soul? And the fame you     would the smell of such a

salve can die: and we are not the     candle in her ear. For three little lazy lovers’ love—     whose shoes, O prince; no doubt

the pigweed cracking each hardscrabble     backlot. Those that lie remote from my soul made me thus,     for pity? If thinking;

there, the middle of my pomegranate     with pain and out of long since God is wot, that life     should he, the avenger,

pass now thy case, blind-hitting of     birds of Engedi. And here I sleep, but make glad life and     find what wind serves to sing.

               78

Till bloudy bullet get him be!     Life of life destroy. Whose mouth made a flute of nastiness.     Till, now, on the window,

and his dart: but grim to seek the     soul gave all hearts the body that rubs its muzzle on the     starry head of her manners.

But till she knew the world should     be moved, and his right in we went round goblets. Grows erect,     as though ill spirit man

not wake at dawn to see thou him.     My morning air. And drop a quest of thy deceased the earth     divide: she passions were

moved, and death. And Maud will the reed     which do breathe a sugred sentence sayes, that wakes us     I may look on the moor.

               79

Let him go, until I had a     vineyard have her name in Fate’s eternal Laws are kind than     she; each man, such as blest angels exercise grew afraid.     And his rapier hilt

a-twinkle, under hill I search     through, the coverings me to pass; it seems apart as what     scent of costliest nard. True to thee better to make me     any more, if it bringst

with God and horses and thy orphan     family of Christ came too. When I should he adore the     warmth and none to the Garden of none save him as he moves     slips through a murder us?

Amidst there with Absál at     his chirrup at her cares; as loud her perfection to     disputing schoolmistress: life remain with his side, the figure     was dead weight, that all might

not thereof two armies. And you     are no longer than thy limbs. Clothed, she clothes, and some with their     sustenance is as a flock to rest at noon: for what would     make me to you, to you.

And for her courtesie; but for a     heart doth tuch those days only a word to the air beneath     her you had sounded, your conversation by nodding vaguely     towards some were to give

all her Body change’s knife to     cut you waste, and he lay in his should be waiting a darker     hue, bewitched man—at peace, and not be dieted with all     her teeth are like a dryad.

For no esteem. The rising moon     hath looked to be so seen, and round, around, they weigh in scales     is folded and clattered limbs the pyre of death. In     the fall of Kings, in low

prostration, most humble tribute     of my trousers, and make ye flourish, whether Laws be right     thee forth thee, the first was hers!—Most justly think it thereof     every part, it were near.

               80

In the leopards. Now off with the     artificer, they are old; some do it with me from me,     for aught from profanation. The braw lass made the field and     vanished high. Her virtues

raised the floor, here be a copy     near the sun, and then together loving looks, her eares     were sweeter blow. Wanting thing; there, the naked salt of you,     so low did he peek or

pine, but he gave but glimpse of his     name, as in the tender, dear brown-eyed little that living     in her. The brave man walked with griefe to show to move: but in     the price of mass and mists

are like only lily; she sank     within, maud made him sad, it made him to the dead, cross his     own, I cherish! The loftier song as drowsy noons, and     tended her so, as one

sees most soothing but all warbles,     and breadth and bran, bread crust crumbled. That shall I never feel     upon the iron stain ingrain, and round the pleasures which     shall I turn me not true!

               81

) What doe you meane, I dare not true!     Like hers her soul two so as stiff twin compass of her name.     And the gloom crept till days

are done! Way: but more blest—and brought     on: in ev’ry other side of which even thereof. There     is none like a round us

one that rivers cannot weights     are like a weed-clogged wave: and most remove the swallowed, the     Consul was whispers first

prepared, as early light, my own     heart the Lord, and staring out of those set our window-panes;     they came. Paraded with

flagons, comfort from ill her love     wars … And my incurable anger, ever in motion;     now tis faith. Spoke they punched

each one that is the key of Nature’s     law. Thou art true, as long, the phantoms kept their cause of     those shadow as backup:

crow, pleasures which else could na scaith     that thou art fair; thou hast won? That is dead And thus for wings,     because I had brought to

understand. And the creatures to     sing to poisoned hilt, and wishes me to you, all song of     praise her husband and ruddy,

the petty though tis a train     in the stroke of either savour of his name, as in them     twere profanity and

the child of her who is she prayer;     heaven had heed of light to raise, and that makes and all     thy show! He did not their

jingling keys opened wide, wi’ twa     white rose nor red may bloom well in the tea, among the coldness     of herself, the hunger

for obliteration that     mine eyes be blessed Cross that Christians of the dole, so ready     at the sun as they are

by the other dames of mine: but,     with apples; and the Warders strutted up and death. The     The hill of frankincense.

               82

Left nothing more, Love, which ay most     prince; no doubt, an easy tool, deferential, glad to her,     great king, glad to her, night of Woman is, protective less     vigil kept, and grows erect, as the drowsy hour; though tis     a train in the echoes

oft tired, how pale is thy belly     is he treasure to tell in what is not it, at all:     only a word. One finger touched to peer. Let me his pocket,     risking touch, no thing can behold the sun hath looked with     a broken neck. Commend

my womanhood commend my     womanhood commend, whether I hunt, gather, barter, or sell,     what need great beauties blot; let him shall share as much as every     wander into an empty out thy beauty’s angel     in his head, and bless me

sharply, and brand his nothing from     life, alas! Those faults I dearly! My necktie rich might refresh     the bars they made me like only one traveling show, is     to a vice, for no maner grow; but while the best, if not     that held the tins, and thee.

               83

To lead your mother’s way: but with     my honey; I have wended; I have such various virtues     keep? They had been embroider’d with silent men who walked,     for him. Tells me from upper air, and the stroke of my broken     and a lean. For me,

who, while yet tis praised her but in     the Prison of Man that Christ! And still she knew, before his     reflection of the Day of Audit, lifted from your skirts     had fallen no tears scald and green figs, and let our hairs, but     a kind of mine armes, if

left uncancell’d, had been so sweet     heart thy pictures, or none can prize: for the bundle of my     blind old man never saw a man who loves you seek, but take     my love wars … And my incurable as an army with     my vertue of late, with joy

will some new pleasure. Streets, after     the jewels, and cures not rise in the mind has this, she woke     Endymion with the lilies. Fire changed in a trice; that all, yea,     pleasure, unto this. Pain had naughty ways, would stand in short,     I was afraid. Who is

weary way, lost with other woman,     and representative of distance? I dare uo do!     The fire that live down her eye. Held in gyves, and drank its     Fountains of the women grew fair some sidled up the stroke     of eight: each in his blood

by those high treasure! Sweet evil     unto us was done. Love thee to drink of the palm tree,     and swelling! Strive nor weep, and thy breast, when the Moon of Beauty.     Nor foes—all nations were profanation of worse, the     heart convey, and all, but

Luther’s chair? Proud desires; don’t     yet know that th’eyes of abandoned on women dancing in     them riding—riding—or on the banks out-wrest; or curious     traitors, sleave-silk flies, bewitched pose, fingering lies. But     Anguish scope: something but

remembrance to obey. Then need     I not kept. In the first that pass in purple moor, and thou     in what he begun. Poor soul, abhorring avarice, bounteous     to a Midwife, shew the hangman with downcast head, and     marshalling everything

but remembrance to violins     when the Moon of Canaan Yúsuf darken’d into necessity.     Turning lime eats flesh to war. Fly, fly, my friend is     beckoned to all such a wistfully at the feud, the hopeless     belling was, and canst

thou in what was ne’er let near the     top of Amana, from the image in the nightingale     does not know this harmed the freedome gladly seekes to make     vnspilling cheek the Thespian spring of them my life! Her     eyes my part. As the end

of civilization and     subsided, for still her five talents other parting we will     I pray that made himself a charm! Thus her friends; I haue my     demon fear’d to do. One is barren among some too such     a soft October night,

her matchless fair, first seen shades, and     she is the immortal things in this, she woke Endymion     with all that supremest parts, with his whole life a fruitful     or more covering Chaplain would utter with a dying with     paine this maid, and sand that

ear which had Horace, or wring his     hair like mouldy hay, but I grow old and I have a thousand     others love control, supposed as forfeit to a     company; not that frown, chid her, and mine had bounds, you know then     what place has been cast out.

Cross his own, I cherish his bed,     which elemented it. Many women you would kiss. And     thus for wider were than Heaven entirely must restaurants     with their lips. Grew: he who cries to Time. Let us go     the forest he fleeting?

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Motherland Fort Salem season 2 episode 4

I liked the beginning with the advert for getting tested, but boy was that cheesy!

I do have to wonder why they aren’t getting Raelle to fix Abigail’s sore throat? she was going to do it in season one before Abigail got all high Atlantic! Seems like an easy fix to me! maybe because of the mycelium?

Well done to those who said Anacostia was working under Petra’s orders, I hadn’t even thought of that, but you were correct, and Alder did not like it. At the end of that scene she seemed like she was losing her grip a bit, wonder what will happen to her in the future?

That whole bit near the beginning with Alder in the testing centre made me very anxious, I hate it when a main character is under threat like that, especially as we knew from the advert for the episode that something major was going to happen. And it bugs me when everyone is involved like the police, the security on the gates and the protesters, makes my heart race and not in a good way.

I really fear for Abigail now, I was super worried in that car park with all those guys and then when she was in the hospital bed, she seems to be getting overwhelmed by everything. I just hope she doesn’t do anything too silly.

So, I assume there is not like non-witch army in this world, so what do all the Not Our Daughters people think is going to happen when they have a depleted army to protect them from the spree who they are all desperate for the army to do something about? Where do they think they’ll get recruits from?

Tally, oh Tally! those biddies did not like you walking in without knocking, but I do like that you stormed in there and demanded answers! (and Alder with her hair down again! I am so conflicted!), I’m sort of liking this whole thing with Tally and Alder, not that I ship them though

Am I the only one thinking Scylla is going to be mad about dropping that photo? she can’t just go and ask Willa for another one! I would be so pissed off if I was her!

A good episode, but it made me very anxious! going to go with 7 out of 10

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Death of the calorie

For more than a century we’ve counted on calories to tell us what will make us fat. Peter Wilson says it’s time to bury the world’s most misleading measure BY PETER WILSON The first time that Salvador Camacho thought he was going to die he was sitting in his father’s Chrysler sedan with a friend listening to music. The 22-year-old engineering student was parked near his home in the central Mexican city of Toluca and in the fading evening light he didn’t notice two tattooed men approach. Tori Amos’s hit, “Bliss”, had just started playing when the gang members pointed guns at the young men. So began a 24-hour ordeal. Strong willed and solidly built, Camacho was singled out as the more stubborn of the pair. He was blindfolded and beaten. One robber eventually threw him to the ground, put a gun to the back of his head and told him it was time to die. He passed out, waking in a field with his hands tied behind his back, almost naked. Camacho survived but, traumatised, he sank into depression. Soon he was drinking heavily and binge eating. His weight ballooned from a trim 70kg to 103kg. That led to his second near-death experience, eight years later, in 2007. He remembers waking up and blinking at bright lights: he was being wheeled on a stretcher into a hospital emergency ward, with an attack of severe arrhythmia, or irregular heart beat. “A cardiologist told me that if I didn’t lose weight and get my health under control I would be dead in five years,” he says. That second crisis forced Camacho belatedly to deal with the trauma of the first. To help with what he now understands was post-traumatic stress disorder, he started having counselling and taking anti-depressants and anti-anxiety drugs. To address his physical health, he tried to lose weight. This effort propelled him to the centre of one of the most fraught scientific debates of our age: the calorie wars, a fierce disagreement about diet and weight control. Today, more than a decade after his cardiologist’s stark warning, Camacho lives in the Swiss city of Basel. He is relaxed and confident, except when two topics come up. When he recounts his kidnapping his gaze drops, his smile vanishes and he becomes noticeably quieter, although he says his panic attacks have virtually disappeared. The other touchy topic is weight control, which causes him to shake his head in anger at what he and millions of other dieters have gone through. “It’s just ridiculous,” he says with exasperation and a touch of venom. “People are living with real pain and guilt and all they get is advice that is confused or just plain wrong.” The guidance that Camacho’s doctors gave him, along with a string of nutritionists and his own online research, was unanimous. It would be familiar to the millions of people who have ever tried to diet. “Everybody tells you that to lose weight you have to eat less and move more,” he says, “and the way to do that is to count your calories.” At his heaviest, Camacho’s body-mass index – the ratio of his height to his weight – reached 35.6, well above the 30 mark that doctors define as clinically obese. Most government guidelines indicated that, as a man, he needed 2,500 calories a day to maintain his weight (the target for women is 2,000). Nutritionists told Camacho that if he ate fewer than 2,000 calories a day, a weekly “deficit” of 3,500 would mean that he would lose 0.5kg a week. With a desk job as a planning engineer in a Mexican hospital, he knew it would take real discipline to trim his pudgy frame. But as his kidnappers had quickly realised, he is an unusually determined character. He began getting up before dawn each day to run 10km. He also started accounting for every morsel of food he consumed. “I filled in Excel spreadsheets every night, every week and every month listing everything I ate. It became a real obsession for me,” says Camacho. Out went the Burger King Whoppers, fried tacos packed with pork and cheese, and tortas (Mexican sandwiches filled with meat, refried beans, avocado and peppers). Out too went his usual steady flow of beer and wine. In came carefully measured low-fat cheese and turkey sandwiches, salads, canned peach juice, Gatorade and Coke Zero, with three Special-K low-calorie diet bars a day. “I was always tired and hungry and I would get really moody and distracted,” he says. “I was thinking about food all the time.” He was constantly told that if he got the maths right – consuming fewer calories than he burned each day – the results would soon show. “I really did everything you are supposed to do,” he insists with the tone of a schoolboy who completed his homework yet still failed a big test. He bought a battery of exercise monitoring devices to measure how many calories he was expending on his runs. “I was told to exercise for at least 45 minutes at least four or five times a week. I actually ran for more than an hour every day.” He kept to low-fat, low-calorie food for three years. It simply didn’t work. At one point he lost about 10kg but his weight rebounded, though he still restricted his calories. Dieters the world over will be familiar with Camacho’s frustrations. Most studies show that more than 80% of people regain any lost weight in the long term. And like him, when we fail, most of us assume that we are too lazy or greedy – that we are at fault. As a general rule it is true that if you eat vastly fewer calories than you burn, you’ll get slimmer (and if you consume far more, you’ll get fatter). But the myriad faddy diets flogged to us each year belie the simplicity of the formula that Camacho was given. The calorie as a scientific measurement is not in dispute. But calculating the exact calorific content of food is far harder than the confidently precise numbers displayed on food packets suggest. Two items of food with identical calorific values may be digested in very different ways. Each body processes calories differently. Even for a single individual, the time of day that you eat matters. The more we probe, the more we realise that tallying calories will do little to help us control our weight or even maintain a healthy diet: the beguiling simplicity of counting calories in and calories out is dangerously flawed. The calorie is ubiquitous in daily life. It takes top billing on the information label of most packaged food and drinks. Ever more restaurants list the number of calories in each dish on their menus. Counting the calories we expend has become just as standard. Gym equipment, fitness devices around our wrists, even our phones tell us how many calories we have supposedly burned in a single exercise session or over the course of a day. It wasn’t always thus. For centuries, scientists assumed that it was the mass of food consumed that was significant. In the late 16th century an Italian physician named Santorio Sanctorius invented a “weighing chair”, dangling from a giant scale, in which he sat at regular intervals to weigh himself, everything he ate and drank, and all the faeces and urine he produced. Despite 30 years of compulsive chair dangling, Sanctorius answered few of his own questions about the impact that his consumption had on his body. Only later did the focus shift to the energy different foodstuffs contained. In the 18th century Antoine Lavoisier, a French aristocrat, worked out that burning a candle required a gas from the air – which he named oxygen – to fuel the flame and release heat and other gases. He applied the same principle to food, concluding that it fuels the body like a slow-burning fire. He built a calorimeter, a device big enough to hold a guinea pig, and measured the heat the creature generated to estimate how much energy it was producing. Unfortunately the French revolution – specifically the guillotine – cut short his thinking on the subject. But he had started something. Other scientists later constructed “bomb calori­meters” in which they burned food to measure the heat – and thus the potential energy – released from it. The calorie – which comes from “calor”, the Latin for “heat” – was originally used to measure the efficiency of steam engines: one calorie is the energy required to heat 1kg of water by one degree Celsius. Only in the 1860s did German scientists begin using it to calculate the energy in food. It was an American agricultural chemist, Wilbur Atwater, who popularised the idea that it could be used to measure both the energy contained in food and the energy the body expended on things like muscular work, tissue repair and powering the organs. In 1887, after a trip to Germany, he wrote a series of wildly popular articles in Century, an American magazine, suggesting that “food is to the body what fuel is to the fire.” He introduced the public to the notion of “macronutrients” – carbohydrates, protein and fat – so called because the body needs a lot of them. Today many of us want to monitor our calorie consumption in order to lose or maintain our weight. Atwater, the son of a Methodist minister, was motivated by the opposite concern: at a time when malnutrition was widespread, he sought to help poor people find the most cost-effective items to fill themselves up. To see how much energy different macronutrients provided to the body, he fed samples of an “average” American diet of that era – which he believed to be heavy in molasses cookies, barley meal and chicken gizzards – to a group of male students in a basement at Wesleyan University in Middletown, Connecticut. For up to 12 days at a time a volunteer would eat, sleep and lift weights while sealed inside a six-foot-high chamber measuring four feet wide by seven feet deep. The energy in each meal was calculated by burning identical foods in a bomb calorimeter. The walls were filled with water, and changes in its temperature allowed Atwater to calculate how much energy the students’ bodies were generating. His team collected the students’ faeces and burned that too, to see how much energy had been left in the body in the digestion process. This was pioneering stuff for the 1890s. Atwater eventually concluded that a gram of either carbohydrate or protein made an average of four calories of energy available to the body, and a gram of fat offered an average of 8.9 calories, a figure later rounded up to nine calories for convenience. We now know far more about the workings of the human body: Atwater was right that some of a meal’s potential energy was excreted, but had no idea that some was also used to digest the meal itself, and that the body expends different amounts of energy depending on the food. Yet more than a century after igniting the faeces of Wesleyan students, the numbers Atwater calculated for each macro­nutrient remain the standard for measuring the calories in any given food stuff. Those experiments were the basis of Salvador Camacho’s daily calorific arithmetic. Atwater transformed the way the public thought about food, with his simple belief that “a calorie is a calorie”. He counselled the poor against eating too many leafy green vegetables because they weren’t sufficiently dense in energy. By his account, it made no difference whether calories came from chocolate or spinach: if the body absorbed more energy than it used, then it would store the excess as body fat, causing you to put on weight. That idea captured the public imagination. In 1918 the first book was published in America based on the notion that a healthy diet was no more complicated than the simple addition and subtraction of calories. “You may eat just what you like – candy, pie, cake, fat meat, butter, cream but count your calories!” wrote Lulu Hunt Peters in “Diet and Health”. “Now that you know you can have the things you like, proceed to make your menus containing very little of them.” The book sold millions. By the 1930s the calorie had become entrenched in both the public mind and government policy. Its exclusive focus on the energy content of food, rather than its vitamin content, say, went virtually unchallenged. Rising incomes and greater female participation in the workforce meant that by the 1960s people were eating out more often or buying prepared food, so they wanted more information about what they were consuming. Nutritional information on foodstuffs was widespread but haphazard; many items carried outlandish claims about their health benefits. Labelling became standardised and mandatory in America only in 1990. The emphasis and use of this information shifted too. By the late 1960s, obesity was becoming a pressing health concern as people became more sedentary and started eating highly processed foods and lots of sugar. As the number of people who needed to lose weight grew, changing diets became the focus of attention. So began the war on fat, in which Atwater’s calorie calculations were an unwitting ally. Because counting calories was seen as an objective arbiter of the health qualities of a foodstuff, it seemed logical that the most calorie-laden part of any food item – fat – must be bad for you. By this measure, dishes low in calories, but rich in sugar and carbohydrates, seemed healthier. People were increasingly willing to blame fat for many of the health ills of modern life, helped along by the sugar lobby: in 2016, a researcher at the University of California uncovered documents from 1967 showing that sugar companies secretly funded studies at Harvard University designed to blame fat for the growing obesity epidemic. That the dietary “fat” found in olive oil, bacon and butter is branded with the same word as the unwanted flesh around our middles made it all the easier to demonise. A us Senate committee report in 1977 recommended a low-fat, low-cholesterol diet for all, and other governments followed suit. The food industry responded with enthusiasm, removing fat, the most calorie-dense of macronutrients, from food items and replacing it with sugar, starch and salt. As a bonus, the thousands of new cheap and tasty “low-cal” and “low-fat” products which Camacho used to diet tended to have longer shelf lives and higher profit margins. But this didn’t lead to the expected improvements in public health. Instead, it coincided almost exactly with the most dramatic rise in obesity in human history. Between 1975 and 2016 obesity almost tripled worldwide, according to the World Health Organisation (who): nearly 40% of over-18s – some 1.9bn adults – are now overweight. That contributed to a rapid rise in cardiovascular diseases (mainly heart disease and stroke) which became the leading cause of death worldwide. Rates of type-2 diabetes, which is often linked to lifestyle and diet, have more than doubled since 1980. It wasn’t only wealthy countries that saw such trends. In Mexico, middle-class urban families such as Camacho’s got fatter too. As a child Camacho was fit and loved playing football. But at the age of ten, in 1988, he was one of many young Mexicans who started stacking on weight as increasing trade with America saw cheap sweets and fizzy drinks flood the shops, a process known as the “Coca-colonisation” of Mexico. “There were suddenly all these flavours you had never tasted, with chocolates, candies and Dr Pepper,” Camacho remembers: “Overnight I got fat.” When his uncles teased him about his bulging waistline, he cut back on sweets and stayed in good shape until his kidnapping 12 years later. Other Mexicans just kept bulking up. In 2013 Mexico overtook America as the most obese country in the world. To combat this trend, governments worldwide have enshrined calorie-counting in policy. The who attributes the “fundamental cause” of obesity worldwide to “an energy imbalance between calories consumed and calories expended”. Governments the world over persist in offering the same advice: count and cut calories. This has infiltrated ever more areas of life. In 2018 the American government ordered food chains and vending machines to provide calorie details on their menus, to help consumers make “informed and healthful decisions”. Australia and Britain are headed in similar directions. Government bodies advise dieters to record their meals in a calorie journal to lose weight. The experimental efforts of a 19th-century scientist stand barely changed – and are barely questioned. Millions of dieters give up when their calorie-counting is unsuccessful. Camacho was more stubborn than most. He took photos of his meals to record his intake more accurately, and would log into his calorie spreadsheets from his phone. He thought about every morsel he ate. And he bought a proliferation of gadgets to track his calorie output. But he still didn’t lose much weight. One problem was that his sums were based on the idea that calorie counts are accurate. Food producers give impressively specific readings: a slice of Camacho’s favourite Domino’s double pepperoni pizza is supposedly 248 calories (not 247 nor 249). Yet the number of calories listed on food packets and menus are routinely wrong. Susan Roberts, a nutritionist at Tufts University in Boston, has found that labels on American packaged foods miss their true calorie counts by an average of 8%. American government regulations allow such labels to understate calories by up to 20% (to ensure that consumers are not short-changed in terms of how much nutrition they receive). The information on some processed frozen foods misstates their calorific content by as much as 70%. That isn’t the only problem. Calorie counts are based on how much heat a foodstuff gives off when it burns in an oven. But the human body is far more complex than an oven. When food is burned in a laboratory it surrenders its calories within seconds. By contrast, the real-life journey from dinner plate to toilet bowl takes on average about a day, but can range from eight to 80 hours depending on the person. A calorie of carbohydrate and a calorie of protein both have the same amount of stored energy, so they perform identically in an oven. But put those calories into real bodies and they behave quite differently. And we are still learning new insights: American researchers discovered last year that, for more than a century, we’ve been exaggerating by about 20% the number of calories we absorb from almonds. The process of storing fat – the “weight” many people seek to lose – is influenced by dozens of other factors. Apart from calories, our genes, the trillions of bacteria that live in our gut, food preparation and sleep affect how we process food. Academic discussions of food and nutrition are littered with references to huge bodies of research that still need to be conducted. “No other field of science or medicine sees such a lack of rigorous studies,” says Tim Spector, a professor of genetic epidemiology at Kings College in London. “We can create synthetic dna and clone animals but we still know incredibly little about the stuff that keeps us alive.” What we do know, however, suggests that counting calories is very crude and often misleading. Think of a burger, the kind of food that Camacho eschewed during his early efforts to lose weight. Take a bite and the saliva in your mouth starts to break it down, a process that continues when you swallow, transporting the morsel towards your stomach and beyond to be churned further. The digestive process transforms the protein, carbohydrates and fat in the burger into their basic compounds so that they are tiny enough to be absorbed into the bloodstream via the small intestine to fuel and repair the trillions of cells in the body. But the basic molecules from each macronutrient play very different roles within the body. All carbohydrates break down into sugars, which are the body’s main fuel source. But the speed at which your body gets its fuel from food can be as important as the amount of fuel. Simple carbohydrates are swiftly absorbed into the bloodstream, providing a fast shot of energy: the body absorbs the sugar from a can of fizzy drink at a rate of 30 calories a minute, compared with two calories a minute from complex carbohydrates such as potatoes or rice. That matters, because a sudden hit of sugar prompts the rapid release of insulin, a hormone that carries the sugar out of the bloodstream and into the body’s cells. Problems arise when there is too much sugar in the blood. The liver can store some of the excess, but any that remains is stashed as fat. So consuming large quantities of sugar is the fastest way to create body fat. And, once the insulin has done its work, blood-sugar levels slump, which tends to leave you hungry, as well as plumper. Getting fat is a consequence of civilisation. Our ancestors would have enjoyed a heavy hit of sugar perhaps four times a year, when a new season produced fresh fruit. Many now enjoy that kind of sugar kick every day. The average person in the developed world consumes 20 times as much sugar as people did even during Atwater’s time. But it is a different story when you eat complex carbohydrates such as cereals. These are strung together from simple carbohydrates, so they also break down into sugar, but because they do so more slowly, your blood-sugar levels remain steadier. The fruit juices that Camacho was encouraged to drink contained fewer calories than one of his wholegrain buns but the bread delivered less of a sugar hit and left him feeling satiated for longer. Other macronutrients have different functions. Protein, the dominant component of meat, fish and dairy products, acts as the main building block for bone, skin, hair and other body tissues. In the absence of sufficient quantities of carbohydrates it can also serve as fuel for the body. But since it is broken down more slowly than carbohydrates, protein is less likely to be converted to body fat. Fat is a different matter again. It should leave you feeling fuller for longer, because your body splits it into tiny fatty acids more slowly than it processes carbohydrates or protein. We all need fat to make hormones and to protect our nerves (a bit like plastic coating protects an electric wire). Over millennia, fat has also been a crucial way for humans to store energy, allowing us to survive periods of famine. Nowadays, even without the risk of starvation, our bodies are programmed to store excess fuel in case we run out of food. No wonder a single measure – the energy content – can’t capture such complexity. Our fixation with counting calories assumes both that all calories are equal and that all bodies respond to calories in identical ways: Camacho was told that, since he was a man, he needed 2,500 calories a day to maintain his weight. Yet a growing body of research shows that when different people consume the same meal, the impact on each person’s blood sugar and fat formation will vary according to their genes, lifestyles and unique mix of gut bacteria. Research published this year showed that a certain set of genes is found more often in overweight people than in skinny ones, suggesting that some people have to work harder than others to stay thin (a fact that many of us already felt intuitively to be true). Differences in gut microbiomes can alter how people process food. A study of 800 Israelis in 2015 found that the rise in their blood-sugar levels varied by a factor of four in response to identical food. Some people’s intestines are 50% longer than others: those with shorter ones absorb fewer calories, which means that they excrete more of the energy in food, putting on less weight. The response of your own body may also change depending on when you eat. Lose weight and your body will try to regain it, slowing down your metabolism and even reducing the energy you spend on fidgeting and twitching your muscles. Even your eating and sleeping schedules can be important. Going without a full night’s sleep may spur your body to create more fatty tissue, which casts a grim light on Camacho’s years of early-morning exertion. You may put on more weight eating small amounts over 12-15 hours than eating the same food in three distinct meals over a shorter period. There’s a further weakness in the calorie-counting system: the amount of energy we absorb from food depends on how we prepare it. Chopping and grinding food essentially does part of the work of digestion, making more calories available to your body by ripping apart cell walls before you eat it. That effect is magnified when you add heat: cooking increases the proportion of food digested in the stomach and small intestine, from 50% to 95%. The digestible calories in beef rises by 15% on cooking, and in sweet potato some 40% (the exact change depends on whether it is boiled, roasted or microwaved). So significant is this impact that Richard Wrangham, a primatologist at Harvard University, reckons that cooking was necessary for human evolution. It enabled the neurological expansion that created Homo sapiens: powering the brain consumes about a fifth of a person’s metabolic energy each day (cooking also means we didn’t need to spend all day chewing, unlike chimps). The difficulty in counting accurately doesn’t stop there. The calorie load of carbohydrate-heavy items such as rice, pasta, bread and potatoes can be slashed simply by cooking, chilling and reheating them. As starch molecules cool they form new structures that are harder to digest. You absorb fewer calories eating toast that has been left to go cold, or leftover spaghetti, than if they were freshly made. Scientists in Sri Lanka discovered in 2015 that they could more than halve the calories potentially absorbed from rice by adding coconut oil during cooking and then cooling the rice. This made the starch less digestible so the body may take on fewer calories (they have yet to test on human beings the precise effects of rice cooked in this way). That’s a bad thing if you’re malnourished, but a boon if you’re trying to lose weight. Different parts of a vegetable or fruit may be absorbed differently too: older leaves are tougher, for example. The starchy interior of sweetcorn kernels is easily digested but the cellulose husk is impossible to break down and passes through the body untouched. Just think about that moment when you look into the toilet bowl after eating sweetcorn. As with so many dieters, Camacho’s efforts to accurately track his calories “in” were doomed. But so too were his attempts to track his calories “out”. The message from many public authorities and food producers, especially fast-food companies that sponsor sports events, is that even the unhealthiest foods will not make you fat if you do your part by taking plenty of exercise. Exercise does, of course, have clear health benefits. But unless you’re a professional athlete, it plays a smaller part in weight control than most people believe. As much as 75% of the average person’s daily energy expenditure comes not through exercise but from ordinary daily activities and from keeping your body functioning by digesting food, powering organs and maintaining a regular body temperature. Even drinking iced water – which delivers no energy – forces the body to burn calories to maintain its preferred temperature, making it the only known case of consuming something with “negative” calories. A popular expression in English tells us not to “compare apples and oranges” and assume them to be the same: yet calories put pizzas and oranges, or apples and ice cream, on the same scale, and deems them equal. After three years of dedicated calorie-counting Camacho changed tack. While recovering from running the 2010 marathon in San Diego he took up Crossfit training, an exercise regime that includes high-intensity training and weightlifting. There he met people using a very different method to control their weight. Like him, they exercised regularly. But rather than limiting their calories, they ate natural foods, what Camacho calls “stuff from a real plant, not an industrial plant”. Fed up with feeling like a hungry failure, he decided to give it a go. He ditched his heavily processed low-calorie products and focused on the quality of his food rather than quantity. He stopped feeling ravenous all the time. “It sounds simple but I decided to listen to my body and eat whenever I was hungry but only when I was hungry, and to eat real food, not food ‘products’,” he says. He went back to items that he’d long banned himself from eating. He had his first rasher of bacon in three years and enjoyed cheese, whole-fat milk and steaks. He immediately felt less hungry and happier. More surprising, he quickly began to lose his extra fat. “I was sleeping so much better and within a couple of months I stopped the depression and anxiety medication,” he says. “I went from always feeling guilty and angry and afraid to feeling in control of myself and actually proud of my own body. Suddenly I could enjoy eating and drinking again.” The weight stayed off and in 2012 he moved to Heidelberg in Germany, a world away from the hectic streets of Mexico, to study for a masters degree in public health. “The idea hit me that I could combine my own experience with academic work to try to help other people overcome these various barriers that I had found.” After his masters he embarked on a doctorate on how to tackle obesity in Mexico. Today he is married to a German scholar, Erica Gunther, who has studied food systems around the world. Their diet includes things he used to shun, such as egg yolks, olive oil and nuts. Two days a week the couple stick to vegetarian meals but otherwise he devours steak, kidneys, liver and some of his favourite Mexican dishes – barbacoa (lamb), carnitas (pork) and tacos with grilled meat. His wife enjoys making a traditional Mexican sweet pastry called pan de muerto (bread of death). “Before I would have run an extra two hours to compensate for eating that but now I don’t care, I just make sure it is a treat, not an everyday thing.” Having spent years trying to forgo alcohol, he has a glass or two of wine several times a week, and goes for a beer with friends from his gym. Sweating through three or four workouts a week, he is as well-muscled as a professional rugby player. A stable 80kg, he has very little body fat, though he is still considered overweight by the body-mass-index charts, which rate many beefed-up professional athletes as too heavy. The only relapse of anxiety he suffers nowadays happens when he hears Tori Amos singing “Bliss” – the song playing when he was kidnapped – which he says “is a real pity because it’s a great song”. Today Camacho could be described as a calorie dissident, one of a small but growing number of academics and scientists who say that the persistence of calorie-counting compounds the obesity epidemic, rather than remedying it. Counting calories has disrupted our ability to eat the right amount of food, he says, and has steered us towards poor choices. In 2017 he wrote an academic paper that was one of the most savage attacks on the calorie system published in a peer-reviewed journal. “I’m actually embarrassed at what I used to believe,” he says. “I was doing everything I could to follow the official advice but it was totally wrong and I feel stupid for never even questioning it.” Given the vast evidence that calorie-counting is imprecise at best, and contributes to rising obesity at worst, why has it persisted? The simplicity of calorie-counting explains its appeal. Metrics that tell consumers the extent to which foods have been processed, or whether they will suppress hunger, are harder to understand. Faced with the calorie juggernaut, none has gained wide acceptance. The scientific and health establishment knows that the current system is flawed. A senior adviser to the un’s Food and Agriculture Organisation warned in 2002 that the Atwater “factors” of 4-4-9 at the heart of the calorie-counting system were “a gross oversimplification” and so inaccurate that they could mislead consumers into choosing unhealthy products because they understate the calories in some carbohydrates. The organisation said it would give “further consideration” to overhauling the system but 17 years later there is little momentum for change. It even rejected the idea of harmonising the many methods that are used in different countries – a label in Australia can give a different count from one in America for the same product. Officials at the who also acknowledge the problems of the current system, but say it is so entrenched in consumer behaviour, public policy and industry standards that it would be too expensive and disruptive to make big changes. The experiments that Atwater conducted a century ago, without calculators or computers, have never been repeated even though our understanding of how our bodies work is vastly improved. There is little funding or enthusiasm for such work. As Susan Roberts at Tufts University says, collecting and analysing faeces “is the worst research job in the world”. The calorie system, says Camacho, lets food producers off the hook: “They can say, ‘We’re not responsible for the unhealthy products we sell, we just have to list the calories and leave it to you to manage your own weight’.” Camacho and other calorie dissidents argue that sugar and highly processed carbohydrates play havoc with people’s hormonal systems. Higher insulin levels mean more energy is converted into fat tissues leaving less available to fuel the rest of the body. That in turn drives hunger and overeating. In other words the constant hunger and fatigue suffered by Camacho and other dieters may be symptoms of being overweight, rather than the cause of the problem. Yet much of the food industry defends the status quo too. To change how we assess the energy and health values of food would undermine the business model of many companies. The only major organisation to shift the emphasis beyond calories is one dedicated to helping its customers slim down: Weight Watchers. In 2001 the world’s best-known dieting firm introduced a points system that moved away from focusing exclusively on calories to also classifying foods according to their sugar and saturated fat content, and their impact on appetite. Chris Stirk, the firm’s general manager in Britain, says the organisation made the change because relying on calories to lose weight is “outdated”: “Science evolves daily, monthly, yearly, let alone since the 1800s.” Many of us know instinctively that not all calories are the same. A lollipop and an apple may contain similar numbers of calories but the apple is clearly better for us. But after a lifetime of hearing about the calorie and its role in supposedly foolproof diet advice we could be forgiven for being confused about how best to eat. It’s time to lay it to rest.

[tomcat-acaphe]

CPR Masterpost

Roughly 54% of Americans know CPR. That is shockingly low.

So, for those who don’t know, only half know, need a reminder or think they know but don’t, let ya boy educate you.

Pre-Physical CPR: Remember DRS (Doctors!)!

D: Danger. Is there danger nearby? Oftentimes people go into cardiac arrest due to, say for example, touching an electric fence and getting electrocuted. Following on from that example, are they still attached to the electric fence? Is the patient still in danger? If they’re in danger, leave them and don’t do CPR. Still call an ambulance though.

R: Response. Shake em, shout at em, call their name, anything! If they respond with words, don’t do CPR. They’re probably just out of it.

S: Shout for help. You’ll ideally want as many people who can do CPR around as possible. ALSO, CALL AN AMBULANCE.

Physical CPR: Remember ABC.

A: Airway. Lay their head back and open their mouth. Make sure the airway is clear.

B: Breathing. If they aren’t breathing, they’re in danger. Lay your head down on its side near their cheek. Use your eyes to also look if their chest is moving up and down. While doing that, if you can’t hear/feel the breath after ten seconds, they aren’t breathing.

Please note there is also a thing called Agonal breathing. If they’re gasping like a fish out of water or not breathing properly, THEY ARE DYING. It’s a brain reflex, they aren’t actually getting any oxygen.

C: Chest Compressions. Start 'em. Do them until you either physically can’t or the ambulance arrives. This is why shouting for help is important. Compressions are very exhausting and if you’re not physically fit you’ll tire quickly and need to alternate.

Extra Note:

Sometimes, if you’re really good and really lucky, the person may wake up. Often this is temporary. Still keep doing compressions. If they become verbal and tell you to, quote enquote ‘piss off, geroff me!’ There’s a good chance they’re alive now.

How To Do Compressions Properly:

Place the heel of the hand on the breast bone at the centre of the person’s chest. Place your other hand on top of your first hand and interlock your fingers.

Position yourself with your shoulders above your hands.

Using your body weight (not just your arms, trust me, if you just did your arms you’ll get very tired very fast,) press straight down by 5-6cm (2-2.5 inches) on their chest.

Keeping your hands on their chest, release the compression and allow the chest to return to its original position.

Repeat these compressions at a rate of 100-120 times in a minute until either: an ambulance, you get exhausted or you feel slightly tired and have a friend who can take over.

If all this is too complicated to remember, don’t worry. If you put your phone on speaker, the person on the other end will walk you through it in real time. If you can’t take away anything else from this, please take away this fact.

Misconceptions:

Q: Do I have to do mouth-to-mouth?

A: Nope! In fact, I’d advise against it. Mouth to mouth actually does little to help the patient and is arguably detrimental due to an exchange of germs. Just stick to chest compressions.

Q: Do I have to sing Nellie The Elephant?

A: Also nope! Any 100-120 BPM song is fine. There’ll be a list below.

Q: Am I pressing hard enough?

A: No. Unless you’re pressing 5-6cm or 2.5 inches down, you are not. It looks weird and wrong, but that’s because you’re literally acting as their heart for them. If you’re questioning if you’re pressing hard enough, you probably aren’t. If you think you are, push a little harder. It’s possible and very easy to not push hard enough, but there’s no such thing as too hard. Push them so hard they make a hole on the floor if you have to.

Q: Oh no! I heard a rib crack!

A: That’s good! Oftentimes, the ribs have to break in order for you to actually have any hope of successful CPR. Don’t stop because you heard a rib crack. There’s no such thing as pushing too hard. There is such a thing as not pushing enough. It’s better to have a friend alive with a few broken bones than your friend dead.

Q: The patient is a woman and I’m scared that if she wakes up she’ll sue me for touching her breasts. Should I risk it and perform CPR anyway?

A: Don’t worry. You’re protected by the Good Samaritan Law. I’m not a lawyer, so if any one who knows the law could possibly fact check me on this personally, but the Good Samaritan Law states:

“The Good Samaritan Law offers legal protection to people who give reasonable assistance to those who are, or whom they believe to be, injured, ill, in peril, or otherwise incapacitated.”

So even if the patient does wake up and your vital readings were wrong, the law should be on your side.

If you think someone needs CPR, don’t question the legal trouble it’ll get you in later. Just do it.

Q: Don’t I have to check for a pulse?

A: You could, but breathing is much more reliable. Locating a pulse can take a while. (Sometimes people can only feel it in their wrists, some people only feel it in their neck. There’s no one guaranteed location. Everyone is different. Unless you know that person extremely well and know their best pulse spots fir some reason, (I’m not judging your friendship,) chances are it’ll take at least 30 seconds to locate a spot. This is especially hard when someone doesn’t have a pulse.) Breathing, on the other hand, is much more reliable and quicker to do, (10 seconds check, let’s say you were slow and took 2 seconds positioning, that’s 12 seconds max.) Time management is extremely important during CPR and every second counts. I understand most American places recommend checking for a pulse, but everywhere in the UK, (including NHS.gov and the British Resuscitation Council (used by all nurses and doctors as gospel, pretty much unheard if outside of professionals apparently?) My mum also said so.

Songs that are 100-120 BPM to sing instead of Nellie The Elephant: (Feel Free to Add!)

Sweet Home Alabama (Lynyrd Skynyrd) (100bpm)

Tainted Love (Straight No Chaser) (100bpm)

Through The Fire And Flames (Dragonforce) (100bpm)

Breaking The Habit (Linkin Park) (100bpm)

This Ain’t A Scene, It’s An Arms Race (Fall Out Boy) (100bpm)

Dancing Queen (Abba) (100bpm)

Hips Don’t Lie (Shakira) (100bpm)

Gives You Hell (All American Rejects) (100bpm)

Icicles (The Scary Jokes) (100bpm)

Rock Your Body (Justin Timberlake) (101bpm)

Steppin’ Out (Joe Jackson) (101bpm)

Welcome To Tally Hall (Tally Hall) (101bpm)

Cecilia (Simon and Garfunkle) (102bpm)

Semi Charmed Life (Third Eye Blind) (102bpm)

99 Luftballons (DDR) (102bpm)

Stayin’ Alive (Bee Gees) (103bpm)

Stronger (Kanye West) (104bpm)

All Star (Smash Mouth) (104bpm)

Hard To Handle (The Black Crowes) (104bpm)

Rolling In The Deep (Adele) (105bpm)

Good Day (Tally Hall) (105bpm)

Are You Gonna Be My Girl (Jet) (105bpm)

Numb (Linkin Park) (107bpm)

Set Fire To The Rain (Adele) (108bpm)

Stronger (Britney Spears) (108bpm)

Eye Of The Tiger (Survivor) (109bpm)

Just The Way You Are (Bruno Mars) (109bpm)

Hollaback Girl (Gwen Stefani) (110bpm)

Another One Bites The Dust (Queen) (110bpm)

Till It’s Over (Tristam) (110bpm)

Grenade (Bruno Mars) (110bpm)

Never Gonna Give You Up (Rick Astley) (113bpm)

Under Pressure (Queen and David Bowie) (113bpm)

Banana Man (Tally Hall) (113bpm)

Two Trucks (Lemon Demon) (114bpm)

Uptown Funk (Mark Ronson and Bruno Mars) (115bpm)

What Doesn’t Kill You (Kelly Clarkson) (116bpm)

Once In A Lifetime (Talking Heads) (117bpm)

Call Me Maybe (Carly Rae Jepsen) (118bpm)

Don’t Stop Believing (Journey) (118bpm)

Bad Romance (Lady Gaga) (119bpm)

Just Dance (Lady Gaga) (119bpm)

Poker Face (Lady Gaga) (119bpm)

Tik Tok (Ke$ha) (120bpm)

Teenage Dream (Katy Perry) (120bpm)

DJ’s Got Us Falling In Love Again (Usher) (120bpm)

Revenge (Captain Sparklez) (120bpm)

If you want to check your favourite song is one you can use but it’s not here, go onto the website tunebat.com and type in the title. It will tell you the BPM and other fun facts like what key it’s in.

Sources:

http://www.nhs.uk/conditions/first-aid/cpr/

http://www.resus.org.uk

My Mum (Registered Band Six District Nurse (Going for Master’s Degree currently.)) (She read and fact checked this for me. Thanks, Mum!)

http://tunebat.com

My own knowledge having this drilled into me from a young age. (From sources above, especially ‘My Mum.’ You can’t find that website anymore.)

[silvia7272]

7 ~ Its Costume Change Time.

I kinda lost track of how many I’ve made at this point, (It's actually 10) but I was in a creative mood and wanted to drabble with the information the superheroes have gotten already. I’m excited cause I’m happy with the artwork I made alongside this, so I really hope you like it.

Chloé Bourgeois is like an older version of Hiyoko Saiyonji (From Danganronpa) but one is hated while the other is loved and I don't really get it.

Word Count: 4479

Tags: @queenmj10, @fangirl39, @animegirlweeb, @northernbluetongue, @daminett4life, @raisuke06, @indecisive-mess-named-me, @luleck​, @themamaravenclaw, if you wish to be tagged all you have to do is say.

***

“Sooooo~ you wanted to see us?” A confused black cat hero pondered as he was on top of a supposedly abandoned building. He had gotten a call from his Lady asking him to meet her and Crisono at this specific location. Apparently, the redhead had seen it whilst circling Paris. He of course came and was reunited with the two heroines.

“Yes, pardon if I may have intruded on any free time you had but I thought since there aren’t any Akuma’s today I should ask for some first-hand information” Chat saw a whiteboard behind Crisono, and finally took notice of other belongings that didn’t seem to fit with the abandoned building appearance. Maybe this was some sort of hangout?

Maybe that meant they could all watch Big Hero 6?

‘Chat focus!’

“It's fine, I wasn’t doing anything important anyway” In truth, he was meant to be practising some piano but that could wait.

“Oh good, I’m glad. Ok, first I would like to know the radius of how far the Akuma’s can go? Whether once someone is controlled will they always be under Hawkmoth’s spell or if distance matters?” A map of Paris had appeared while Chat tried to think.

“We’ve never actually investigated that before, we’re more focused on catching the Akuma than becoming a detective right M’Lady?” She nods as well.

“But I guess when there was an Akuma on a train half a year ago, the train driver was Akumatized and led everyone to space by her own free will, so maybe around there.” Ladybug circled the area of the map she believed the spot could be.

“Ok it’s a start, maybe one day we can go along the tracks and see if we can nearly become Akumatized? Or possibly get a willing volunteer to help us out? But we’d have to take precautions of course. If we can no longer summon a butterfly, then we’ll soon find the radius. That way it could be safer for us as we’ll have an area to work with, to see where the mastermind is.” She sure seemed confident.

“It would have to be on a day no Akuma’s will be sent out, it would take too long to get back to Paris in case there’s an emergency.”

“I suppose if one of us stays behind to keep an eye on matters here that would be fine, or if we have back up for some moments”

“It depends if Master Fū would let us use the Miraculous like that”

“I’m sure it will be fine, as long as it's for a better cause”

“Yeah I suppose you’re right” Chat watched as they negotiated back and forth, it was interesting. He found it almost enjoyable to listen to them talk, this was all so exciting to him, a mystery yet to be discovered.

Although the way they talked… It was like they had been acquainted before.

Before they all knew each other perhaps?

Then did that mean Rosina knew Ladybug’s identity?

“Chat have you been listening!?” A stern Ladybug asked. He was caught, he shrugged and gave a guilty smile to her as she put her hand to her forehead.

“Don’t worry its fine Ladybug. Cheer up. I’m sure we can find Hawkmoth soon, with all of our help combined I’m sure it’ll be a victory.” She pumped her fist out with Chat joining in as well. It was nice to have someone as energetic as himself on the Team now. Who knows, maybe Ladybug could lighten up a bit more and learn to have more fun?

“Although there are other things to go over as well? I may need an account of all of the Akuma’s that have happened, their powers and Akumatized items, possibly a tally chart of how many times they’ve been Akumatized as well. Then there's where exactly they’ve been Akumatized, it may form a pattern pointing to Hawkmoth. Even the centre of the radius could give up a point” She was rambling now, and Chat couldn’t comprehend most of what she was saying because of how fast it came.

“Hold up Crissi, you’re going too fast. And how long have you been thinking of this? Have you done this before?” She looked over to Chat for an awkward amount of time before blinking… Very… Slowly.

.

.

“Yes…?”

“That doesn’t sound convincing at all” What did she have to hide?

“Yeah you’re probably right”

.

.

.

“Let us get back to business, shall we?” They spent the next hour coming up with potential plans to do in their spare time.

***

It was afternoon by the time they had finally finished.

They all went their separate ways to rest and hopefully continue further on another free day. She knew it would take a while before she could get an account for every single Akuma that had ever happened.

Hopefully sooner than later, Crisono still had a lot to talk about.

The duo was impressed with her vast knowledge of ideas for this type of thing, she definitely did this before, but with what a black feline couldn’t work out.

Crisono had taken to swing through the buildings of Paris to relax, she had done too much explaining in a single day she needed to stretch herself. Her Aunt had nagged her to teach them more about the analytical side of being a hero… The detective side basically. And she didn’t believe Ladybug and her Aunt would be comfortable in the same room together. So regrettably she had to take on the burden. And it had burnt her out, she sighed as she tried to think of anything she may have forgotten before she spotted someone standing on a rooftop.

‘Is that-? It is!’ She smiled with glee, she was able to see two of her friends in a single day, and not even with school playing a factor.

She glided over near her, hoping to playfully scare her, like a jest she had done to Mari that one time, she still didn’t know why she was so angry with that but oh well, maybe Chloé would appreciate her humour. Oh dear Lord no

.

But she couldn’t bring herself to.

Not after seeing the same sadness she saw similar to the Luxembourg trip.

“Chloé?” She saw the blonde's eyes widen and look to her, that sadness disappeared and was filled with annoyance.

“What are you doing here- More importantly, how did you get here!” Crisono pointed to her grappling hook before plopping down on the railing, sitting on it. It was extremely cold and uncomfortable, but she was this far already she can stick it out.

“I was out with Ladybug and Chat Noir, since I’m still new here I wanted as much information we had on Hawkmoth and Akuma’s. So, I’ll probably start asking for first-hand accounts from people” She probably shouldn’t be divulging this type of information to a civilian, but she was sure Ladybug wouldn’t mind, after all, they were all friends.

“That won’t work, Akuma victims forget everything afterwards” She mumbled into her arms but Crissi could still make out every word.

“Really, well that’s a bummer. Well~ I still have plenty of ideas left to use” It became silent, and since Rosina hadn’t been in company like ever, she just figured Chloé had grown bored of talking.

.

.

.

“Why did you become a hero?” She was surprised by that question, normally they’d talk about other common teenager things, or as common as Rosina would read about them in magazines.

“Well, my Aunty asked me if I had wanted to become one when we were fighting, err crime. She trained me all my life but always made sure I was safe. I really wanted to become a hero because I wanted people to think of me as a number”

“Huh?” Chloé heard something similar when she reluctantly looked at the LadyBlog after finding out Rosina was Crisono. She mentioned something about numbers, but no one knew what that meant.

“What do you mean by that?” Crisono looked out at the horizon, and for once, Chloé noticed there wasn’t a smile on her face.

“I believe everyone has a number.” She fiddled with her ring, almost playing with it.

“Dedicated just to them, for how many people care for them. The number is solid and cannot be changed. It will be constant for all your life. You may think you have more, but you will acknowledge how true that number is. In truth, I believe I have a low number… Which is why I want to be a number for everyone else.” That… Kinda made sense. Chloé saw how she was still kind to everyone that she met, even to Lila. She gave everyone new to her a compliment, she never seemed angry at anyone of her classmates, even if they wanted to take her away.

“I’ve always known my number to be lower than everyone else's. But that’s because I haven’t interacted with anyone else before now. And I’ve… Accepted that it won’t be higher, but to be someone else’s number, without having to receive anything in return would just be bliss to me. But I know when not to push it.” She stood on top of the railings and started walking around, she was getting antsy from staying in one place.

‘She’s in heels how is she able to walk on something so tiny?’ Chloé thought to herself.

“I get it, you want people to remember you. I kinda thought the same” Crisono looked over to her to let her know she could continue.

“I… Thought I couldn’t be a hero as myself, because no one would’ve trusted me to believe me. I thought because I was still Chloé Bourgeois, everyone would still hate me. But then… When I got a Miraculous, it was amazing, I thought I could be just like her. Like Ladybug. I wanted to try and help people, and I thought I was getting better at it.” She smiled ever so slightly, but it quickly vanished.

“But I blew it. I failed at the first rule of being a hero, I was so angry at my Mother that I exposed the fact I had the Miraculous. And because of my anger and ideals of being a heroine, I put so many people in danger. People could've been hurt but I was more focused on thinking I was a hero than being a hero.”

“Chloé…”

“Because I wanted to be Queen Bee, not Chloé Bourgeois! And I couldn’t even do that.” Tears rolled down her cheeks as Rosina stood in silence.

All she wanted was to be nice but didn’t know how. With everything Chloé had told the redhead, she’d been given everything in her life with the snap of her fingers, if you had that chance what need was there to be nice? At least that’s what Rosina concluded.

So, she hugged her. Causing Chloé to freeze at the sudden contact before slowly wrapping her arms around her, letting it out. Even if she cried for a brief time, she needed it.

“Chloé. I don’t think you need to be Queen Bee to be considered a hero. We can help you. Me, Marinette and Kagami too.” The blonde wiped her eyes, hellbent on stopping this show of emotions.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my friend. No one will believe me, hell I don’t think I could believe myself. I’m utterly ridiculous for thinking I could even be a hero anymore” She argued back, even if they were friends she didn’t know for how long, what if she did something she couldn’t take back, if she went too far because she wasn’t aware of self-control, what if she was left all alone again? What if-

“Chloé, you don’t need powers, or a costume, or money to be a hero. Just do what your heart wants, morally do what's best, we can help you with every step. You’ll never be alone Chloé. Just trust us. Let me help you be Chloé Bourgeois”

She immediately hugged her back, the waterworks flowing down again.

“Thanks, Rosy”

“C’mon Chloé no more tears, we have to be happy so no Akuma’s come and bother us.” She put a finger to her cheek, thinking of a solution.

“I know, why don’t we go flying again?” Before Chloé had any time to register what the younger heroine had suggested, they had already jumped off the building. Chloé screamed before hanging onto Crisono for dear life as said girl made the hovering board, Chloé soon realised she had grown to resent that contraption with a growing passion.

‘Besides, I think I have an idea on how you can be a hero Chlo’

***

“What do you mean it won’t work?” They were both on the balcony at their newfound home. They had to either stay there or go on different roofs after Marinette’s Parents would come into the room unannounced, and as much as Rosina found it endearing, it wouldn’t help the duo if they overheard them being heroines.

“I’m sorry Rosy, it's not that she isn’t my friend. It's just because she revealed herself to all of Paris. Including Hawkmoth. If I gave her Miraculous again her Parents, friends and home could all be targeted. And I couldn’t live with myself if they got hurt for Chloé” Marinette had momentarily stopped drawing as she said the last sentence.

“I guess I didn’t think of it like that. When people have loved ones to consider getting hurt that makes revealing stuff tricker” Marinette gave a confused look before she realised what she meant.

“Trickier”

“Oh? Thanks, Mari” It was silent as they look upon the night view. Rosina thinking of ways to help her friend. To be a hero in and out of costume.

“She is starting to become better, but I doubt Master Fū would allow it to happen again. Chloé would have to make sure she never lets anything slip about her being Chloé or Queen Bee.”

“So, wouldn’t that mean she can have a different Miraculous?” The Silver eyed girl mused, it seemed so simple to her.

“I doubt Chloé would like that either”

“How come?” Turning her head to the side so she knew she was paying attention.

“I saw how happy she was when Pollen was there, it was like she was truly delighted, I did think she was the perfect Chosen for the Bee Miraculous, but now who would take it without Chloé being upset and causing an Akuma-”

“Marinette calm down, you’re thinking too far ahead again!” Tikki insisted, floating up to place both her hands on Marinette’s cheeks.

“Tikki’s right, it hasn’t happened so no need to worry” Rosina was trying to remain positive; she swore she would never attract another Akuma ever.

“Right… Thanks, guys”

“It's too bad you can’t change the costumes, Aunty told me since its magic no one can tell who it is behind the mask so a costume change would be great… No idea why no one knows it's me then?” The bluenette jumped when she heard what the other had muttered out.

“Wait- What was that?” She asked.

“Yeah, no one knows it's me even though I don’t have magic” Thinking that had been what Mari was talking about, she finished with her trademark smile.

“Isn’t your ring magic?”

.

.

.

“I thought it was just a special worm on a string?” She was so confused.

‘So that’s what it was’

“…I meant the other part” Marinette sweatdropped. Her behaviour should’ve been expected at this point, but she was still random.

“Changing costumes?” She tilted her head as Marinette's smile widened. She had an idea.

“Tikki, you said that the Miraculous responds to the Chosen’s wishes of what outfit we have right?”

“Yes?” She was just as puzzled as Rosina.

“Then would it be possible to change it again?” Tikki’s eyes widened.

“Oh, I see yes of course” She nodded in understanding.

“Chloé must’ve modelled her outfit after mine, so maybe if I can change it enough for Hawkmoth not to recognise her then she could be a hero again. Now I have to design until I’ve worked out which one is best. C’mon Rosina, let’s go back home, I’m sure Maman has some cookies for you.” Rosina’s eyes widened before picking Marinette and Tikki up and running straight towards the kitchen.

Boy did she have too much energy.

***

“Ok guys Cya, I need to go” Their redheaded friend enthusiastically waved as they ran off for their fencing lesson.

“Man is she too energetic at times” Marinette sighed.

“You have no idea, I had to pry caster sugar off her at one point” She shuddered as she recalled that memory. They continued talking as they had these past weeks. If you had told the two, they would be friends when they were 10, they would’ve scoffed at you while one would say utterly ridiculous multiple times. But they had changed that. And as they made plans in Chloé’s room they found they were becoming closer, not best friends yet, but they would get there. There was no doubt Rosina was already thinking they were best friends. But what else could they expect from their new friend?

A few hours passed by before Marinette had to get going, something about her Parents needing help.

Chloé didn’t really remember what but she did know one thing.

She was alone.

In her empty room.

And no one was there.

But of course, she was used to it. Besides, she could call them later on… Wait Rosina still didn’t have a phone.

“I know. I declare for my first act of being nice, I’ll get Rosina a phone. She’ll remember the first phone so much she’ll never get rid of it.” She starts looking at phones for her friend. Which one would be the best for her, which had the best reviews, which one was the easiest for her to use considering she doubted she’s ever had one before?

“That one looks cute, ugh this is so boring, I wasn’t made to be a search engine. Ughhhhhh, I want Jean to do this, but it has to come from me… How does anyone do this? I hate my life” She dramatically flopped onto her bed; all the woes of her thumb aching fallen on Death ears.

“Is this a bad time then?”

!!!

“Ladybug! You came to help me wow you must’ve sensed it- Wait! Crisono?” She waved as Chloé stood frozen mid hug from Ladybug.

“Yep, surprise”

“No-no, I can only have Ladybug here I’ll talk to you later, but you have to go” Chloé tried to push Crisono out the balcony. She saw her jump off buildings all the time she wasn’t worried. And like hell was she going to spill her surprise.

“Wait Chloé, I came here on official hero business” She tried to reason.

“Then do it somewhere else”

“It involves you Chlo” She halted her movements.

“Me?” Ladybug took that as an indication to continue.

“Yes, Chloé, it's about your position with the Miraculous. I’m sorry I never really talked to you about it. Crisono talked to me because you felt upset” Chloé glared at Crisono, hadn’t that meant to be a private conversation? However she couldn’t stay mad for too long, she only did what she thought was right. Plus, she was a hero.

A real hero.

“Who said I was upset, I’m not upset. I don’t need to be Queen Bee anymore.” Chloé tried to put on a strong face, but anyone could see through it, it was just they didn’t seem to point it out.

“Think we can talk about it?” Ladybug felt it was weird to have this type of relationship with Chloé, after always fending off her attacks of affection, willingly coming over to the hotel seemed absurd.

So, they talked.

But really talked.

Chloé may not have been the first intended target but she was damn better than the previous one in the long haul.

“I understand Ladybug. I don’t blame you for doing the right thing, that’s why I idolise you so much. You always look out for everyone good or bad.” Chloé waved her hand dismissively even if Ladybug could tell she really wanted to be a hero.

“Chloé, listen to me. I heard about the incident with Lila at your school, and how you’ve changed since you’ve gotten two friends pointing you in the right direction, and how you're treating them fairly. You’re learning Chloé, and I’d like to help too” Ladybug pulled out a box containing something Chloé knew all too well.

“That’s-” She was about to reach out but stopped midway.

“Are you sure? I mean I know I am the best wielder of the Bee Miraculous but why now?” Ladybug smiled. Chloé always had to brag about something even at a time like this. Good, she should be confident, and not change too much to be someone she’s not.

“This will be the start of your test to continue being a hero. Crisono and I will train you to become a stronger hero. In the end, the Master will decide if you can continue or not. But there is one condition” Chloé grimaced as she could guess what it would be.

“I know, I know, I won’t reveal my identity to anyone… But, you do know I know who Crisono is right?”

“Yep she knows, I told her first and its ok. I only let my friends know” Plus Adrian she wanted to add but that would cause an argument about her being careless and this was about Chloé, not her.

“Actually, two conditions” She nodded, whatever it took to be a hero for Ladybug, no for herself. She had to prove it to herself the most before heroing.

“Because you’ve revealed yourself you must change your costume design, I was able to draw a design I think best suits you” She handed the blonde some paper, wow Chloé muttered. Her designs were on par with Marinette, maybe they drew together?

“You have to think of that design once you transform, Pollen has already seen it and knows, once you both think of it, you’ll be able to change it. And you must change your name” The two hero’s smiled.

.

.

.

“That’s actually three things”

“Chloé!”

“Alright chill” She was given the box with her Pollen pooping out. They embraced each other as it had been so long since their last meeting.

“I missed you so much” After a few minutes they began pondering name ideas, each one getting shot down by Chloé herself.

“Ugh, none of these can stand up to Queen Bee! Can’t I just be Queen Bee 2?”

“No Chloé,” Crisono was thinking intently. Scribbles of names on paper were scattered everywhere as none could satisfy the young blonde.

“Wait, what about Sovereign Stinger?” The blonde’s head perked up.

“Having a supreme rank aspect like a Queen, as well as a quality for a Bee … Well?”

“Well I guess it’ll do; I’ll keep it for now before a more efficient name matches my graces” Secretly she loved the name. It was long and was fancy, as if she’d change it, she just didn’t want to seem like she enjoyed it. Another hug ensured before Ladybug had to leave and go back, Crisono copying her.

“Remember Chloé, become a hero you want to be, continue being Chloé Bourgeois.” And they left.

“…She is getting the best phone ever”

***

Chloé was experiencing an emotion she’d never felt before.

Never in her life.

What was it?

It's definitely not because she had found the perfect phone for her friend.

Or that she had a smaller gift for her two friends as well.

Or that this would be the first gift she’s given to them; the hotel didn’t count shut up.

It most certainly wasn’t the fact they were standing in front of her after she pulled them both into an empty classroom.

It sooo wasn’t the fact that she was nervous or anything.

“Well, Chloé? What is it?” Marinette inquisitively asked, Rosina busy standing on the desks with her arms, legs straight in the air.

‘Too much energy’

“Look, Rosina, I know you don’t have a…” She muttered something the girls couldn’t figure out. Baffled for why the girl was blushing so much.

“So… I- ugh, here!” She shoved the gift into the direction of the redhead. Rosina swivelled around to sit on the desk, her Aunt told her when receiving a gift, you must sit properly, or it’ll be rude, and she didn’t want to be rude to her friends.

She pulled a rectangular box out of a pretty bag that Marinette deduced cost a bomb itself.

“A… Phone?” Rosina tilted her head, showing she was confused.

“S-So we can all keep in touch. It’s a bother having to text Marinette every time I want to tell you something so this was a better solution” Rosina would’ve hugged the girl then, but she held up her hand.

“Hold on you haven’t opened everything yet, one of them is for you D- Marinette” She caught herself, thank god.

Marinette took the bag and out came two phone charms. There were three flowers tied in a circle, one blue, one red, and one yellow. Except for the blue on one was bigger while the red remained a smaller size. The reverse effect on the other.

‘They were specifically made for us in mind?’ The bluenette concluded.

“Huh? A charm?” The Silver-eyed child guessed, it looked so pretty, she didn’t know what it was for. But she was sooo going to keep it.

“I thought they'd make the phone look better… Well?” She knew they may not like them, Chloé knew she should’ve gotten the bigger charms, but Jean said these would be better.

“Anyway, it's not like they mean anything, they came with the phone” Marinette would have given a remark back to the girl, if she hadn’t noticed the charm on said girls own phone. She was trying but still didn’t know how to say it, she could see she cared though, otherwise, what would the point in getting all three identical charms?

“Thanks so much, Chlo, I’ve never had a charm before. Thanks!” The redhead hugged the other, the blonde already used to the affection at this point pat her head.

“Yes yes, now get off you’re ruining our clothes.” She couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face.

‘Keep up the good work Chloé. I know you can do it.’ She placed her own charm on her phone.

A reminder that these were her friends.

And she was damn sure she would keep them.

***

How do you like it? I wanted to try and give Chloé a steady Redemption Arc but still with her in character, so it doesn’t seem too soon of a change for her, is this good or should she still be different about it. Also, I’m going to upload the picture separately since I think that might seem better and not as many tags.

Question, should I make some art posts for some ML characters? Like just a short story for any character you request. It will give me something to do and I can further develop a character for my story. Up to you, I just need to hone my drawing skills. I kinda forget stuff I’ve already written about, so I think I haven’t stated Rosina has a phone beside the first thing I posted but that one happens in the future.

Also is anyone interested in a final songfic? One last sone for that series to end, it would have Marinette sing the song that was on the piece of paper. Plus plenty of class salt.

Have a nice day.

[garryspolicememories]

                  Policing Memories of

           Garry Crawford Circa 1962

                            Part XX

    Search for Two Hunters Lost in Pukaskwa

     Forest For 13 Days – Wawa Detachment.

                     The HUNTERS STORY

     If Memory serves me correctly it was on October the 9th., in the late 1970’s. Carl Norman, 36 and Ronald Frese, 28 of Akron Ohio were flown into a Fly-in camp on a small lake near Jostle Lake, about twenty air miles west of Wawa, Ontario. The two men were flown in by White River Air Service to do some moose hunting. I believe Moose Season was to open the following day. The two men were advised that their flying service would be making periodic fly-overs as their time progressed. If there was an emergency or they shot a moose that needed taken out, they were to run up a flag on a pole that was installed at the camp. The camp itself was a simple tent camp set up on a wooden platform on a rock outcrop overlooking the lake. The interior contained the bare necessities of a stove, small table stand  etc. and two rough wooden bunks. Washing and cooking utensils.

     When the aircraft left Norman and Frese put there sleeping gear and packsacks containing their clothing food and other supplies into the camp. They decided that they would do a reconnoiter of the lake and surrounding area to see if there was any moose sign. They were already dressed in hunting gear, so they took their rifles and worked there way down the north side of the lake. On reaching a point approximately ¾ of the way down the lake, they came upon a cow moose with her calf standing in the shallow water. They shot the cow and wounded the calf, it ran off. They cleaned out their kill and retrieved a small boat that was at the camp, dragged the moose down the lake to the campsite and hung the moose in a tree. The two men had gotten quite wet in the process, they stripped off their wet hunting gear and changed into dry spare clothing they had brought with them.  One was dressed in dress shoes a white T-shirt and a light jean jacket. The other was similarly dressed but just a shirt and no jacket.

     I guess they were pretty excited about their kill and decided to go back and see if they could find the wounded calf. Only one of them took a rifle. On returning to the scene of their kill it was getting near dark. They started working their way back from the lake and when they reached a point approximately 500 yards north of the lake they came upon the calf and made their second kill. On bleeding the calf it was quite dark. One of the men took off his cap red hunting cap and placed it on top of a stump near the calf.

     The two men then proceeded to return to their camp, which was in an easterly direction from the calf kill. They had no compass but did have a flashlight. Instead of heading east, they unknowingly headed southwest, they had completely lost their direction. They continued as far as they could that night and I believe the flashlight went dead. The following day they decided they had better conserve what they had and stay where they were for the time being. It is believed they stayed at this location for three days. They had the rifle, an axe, and the dead flashlight. They did not have any matches, food, compass, heavy clothing or proper footwear. They were getting quite hungry at this point. They took the battery out of the flashlight and used it as a water container. They found if they drank lots of water they felt some relief from the hunger. One of the two had marine survival training. They used the axe to gather evergreen boughs and made a type of igloo with a very small opening. The floor was also covered with fine boughs for bedding. At night the two men cuddled to help conserve their body heat. They were unable to make a fire. The third or fourth day one of the men shot a partridge, which they tried to eat raw. This was futile as they were unable to keep the raw meat in their stomach. The men advised that they were starting to feel quite weak, but found by laying in the sun on the flat rocks they felt rejuvenated.

     It was about the fifth day without seeing any help, Norman and Frese had established some direction and decided to start to walk towards the highway, which they knew was in an easterly direction. They continued working their way east for a couple of more days and were getting pretty weak at this point. They built another similar shelter to the first one on a high cliff overlooking a ravine. One night a moose interrupted their sleep. The two men had pealed some poles and laid then out in an opening to form an H for help. By the twelfth night of their ordeal the two men decided they would get up in the morning and start walking towards the highway and continue until they dropped.

     It was during the thirteenth day the two men were lost that they heard a helicopter. They rushed out of their shelter and waved to the circling helicopter. I later interviewed the two men at the Lady Dunn Hospital in Wawa. One of the men had temporarily lost his voice and was unable to talk. The other advised me about their rescue. He stated: That pilot really knew what he was doing. He came down just like a big fly. He put one of his skids on the edge of the cliff and just hovered there. We quickly climbed on board. I found this latter statement somewhat amusing, as it was told with what I would call a very heavy Kentucky drawl.

     One of the men had lost 20 lbs. and the other 25 lbs. during their adventure. The two men were very appreciative of the members involved in their search and rescue, promising to raise money on their return to Ohio, which they would contribute to the Soo Search and Rescue and any other volunteer groups involved. Their tone changed somewhat when the Wawa Ministry of Natural Resources for taking the moose during the closed season charged them.

                                 The Search

     I believe it was on the 17th., of October White River Air Service decided to check on their hunter’s. The two men had been lost for seven days at this point. I would think their week’s hunt was ending and their aircraft had witnessed no flag signal. On checking the cabin they found a moose hanging in a tree and obvious signs that the men’s bunks had never been slept in. Their pilot returned to Wawa and it was reported to Wawa Detachment. It was obvious from the pilot’s report that something had happened to the two men. Either they had become lost or something more serious had happened. Because of the rugged wilderness involved and the isolation of this area a search was in order.  

     Myself as search coordinator and the Detachment Commander Sergeant Lorne Neve implemented a plan for logistics. We took into consideration the area concerned, equipment needed, tools, maps, flagging tape,  axes and shovels, transportation, supplies for accommodation, food, cooking,  and manpower.  By the late 70’s most Detachments had some personnel who were trained in Search and Rescue work. A request was made to White River and Hornepayne Detachment for volunteers and trained personnel. A similar request was made to the Wawa Ministry of Natural Resources for men and assistance with transportation and tents, sleeping and cooking equipment. A telephone call was placed to Mac Nicholson the director of the Sault Ste Marie Search and Rescue Centre for assistance with their manpower. I should mention that this group is a completely volunteer organization, which book time off work without pay and volunteer their services. A request was also made for the attendance of the OPP Helicopter. Finally a grocery list was compiled to feed out search team. Our Detachment Custodian at that time was Brian Ringrose. Brian Volunteered to be our search team’s Cook.

     Late on the afternoon of the 17th., White River Air Service flew Constables Tex Luoma, Don Lewko , Don Harrison and myself in to the location of the outpost cabin. We took along a small amount of food, sleeping bags and personal equipment. On our arrival we found the dead moose hanging behind the camp. It was obvious that the men had not been back to the camp since their arrival and they had made a change of clothing. A quick reconnoiter along the north side of the lake was made just prior to dark and we located where the cow moose had been taken and some tracks. I remember that there was some concern about who was going to get the two bunks. There was no worry though as we located some used lumber behind the camp and each bunk was extended to allow two members at each bunk. Lol.

     On the morning of the 18th. , the OPP Helicopter arrived from Toronto with two pilots aboard, Constables Norm Kerr and Dwayne Sedgwick. Additional members arrived from Sault Ste Marie Search and Rescue. Members of Wawa Ministry of Natural Resources, White River and Hornepayne Detachments. A line search was commenced from the location where the moose had been killed. A line search requires a fair amount of discipline.

     The leader on the outside of the line runs on a compass line marking his progress with marking tape as he moves along. The man on the other end of the line also marks our passage with marking tape and keeps a tally of the distance travelled. The remaining members form a line off of the leader. Each person must keep and equal distance from his neighbour, depending on the terrain, this distance is usually 6 to 10 feet. Additionally the line must be kept as straight as possible. If anything is observed eg. tracks broken branches, article of clothing or any of item that would indicated someone’s passage. Then the line would be halted and the leader or other appointed person would be responsible for checking the item out, recording its location and when satisfied start the line again.

      When a predetermined distance has been covered the line is reversed and ran parallel to the first line with the first man in the line following the marking tape and the person on the outside of the line again marking the outside line with marking tape and doing a tally. In this search, two members were dispatched to the north to the Hydro Line with instructions to run on a fixed bearing and mark their trail with flagging tape to checkout the Power Line right of way for any sign. The remaining members were used on the line search.

     The exception being Brian Ringrose and one other person who remained at the campsite to set up accommodation and a cooking area.

     It was early on in the search when the force helicopter spotted something red in the thick bush. The item was just slightly ahead of the search line. This turned out to be one of the lost hunter’s hunting cap placed on top of a stump. The dead calf moose was located a short distance away. Tracks were located on the west side of our search area later that day which caused us to lean our search towards the southwest.

I believe it was on the third day the search line located a man made shelter and parts of a flashlight and the remains of a partridge cleaning, approximately two miles to the south west of the fly-in camp. The search was continued with indications the two individuals had moved south then east.

      The fourth day as I remember was pretty uneventful with the search team working south and east from the location of fly-in camp and south of the lake.

     I remember later in the afternoon of the fourth day the helicopter had to return to Wawa to pick up a reload of fuel. We were in the air ahead of the search team and I radioed into Wawa Detachment with instructions to the dispatcher to advise Sergeant Neve that I had a special request for additional groceries.

     The team was working under very difficult conditions. The work was very tiring and uncomfortable. At times they would be walking on the ice through the ponds and muskeg at others they would be climbing cliffs. At other times they would break through the ice and get wet. I wanted to keep their spirits up and as I had done on other searches I tried to get them a little treat. One of the requests for groceries was kind of coded as much of the district could hear my radio broadcast. So my simple instructions were to request Sergeant Neve to pick up two dozen brown eggs from the In an Out Store. When we completed the area we were searching we returned for the much needed fuel and groceries. When we landed, Sergeant Neve met us with the groceries and when I looked there were two dozen white eggs. I explained to Lorne what my request had been and he was somewhat discussed, as the dispatcher had failed to give my description. (Two dozen brown eggs from the In and Out Store.) He had simply written down 2 doz. Eggs. The matter was quickly solved as Constable Jeff Lamb was off duty, had seen the helicopter landing and had dropped into the airport to see how we were doing. He made a quick trip with his Harley and retrieved the case of beer for us. I will never forget the looks of the scene when I returned to the fly-in camp. Brian Ringrose had built himself a circular stone fireplace. He had cut up a bunch of white birch and burnt it down to a huge pile of red charcoal coals. He had barbecued pork chops to a golden perfection. Everyone was gathered around sitting on the rock waiting for supper. There was enough beer to go a round. Everyone was smiling and tired but satisfied.

     The following day Norm and Dwayne were searching and area south and east from our campsite when the observed the lost hunters on top of a cliff. There was no open landing spot, so they elected to do a hovering pick-up. This is somewhat difficult, but I am sure it would be somewhat easier when there were two pilots to fly talk and observe. These two men in my opinion were the two best helicopter pilots I had flown with. I remember Dwayne telling me afterwards that he was somewhat concerned as the two men had been lost for thirteen days under very difficult conditions. No food, no heat and improperly clothed. Many men in these circumstances might be effected mentally. Well;  here they are hovering with just one skid touching the edge of the cliff. The one man climbed aboard okay but the other man rushed over still carrying his axe, they tried to get him to throw it away, but he wouldn’t. The two men did abandon their rifle, which had been of little use to them, but they kept the axe, which had probably saved their lives’. The two men were flown back to Wawa were they were admitted to the Lady Dunn Hospital. The one man who had lost his voice was okay after a couple of days. They had some injuries to their feet but other than that were fine after a couple of days. As I have said before they were charged and convicted for hunting out of season. Following my interview at the hospital I never heard from them again.

                               Photo Attached

     I have attached a picture that was taken on the night before our last day. Time has passed and like anyone else my memory has faded. I have forgotten the names of many in the picture. I leave that for others to identify. As I remember beginning on the front left. With red cap u/k, Constable Doug Arthur, just showing a head is Constable Don Harrison, The next fellow headed up the Soo S.& R. last name was McDonald, Corporal Ernie Bondarenko,u/k. Standing with green took Corporal Garry Crawford Search Co-coordinator, u/k with red jacket, Second row sitting no hat u/k, Constable Don Lewko, Uk. Standing back row on left, Ron Botham of MNR, next 4 u/k. Standing with blue shirt and cup in hand Constable Tex Luoma. The remainder I do not remember their names. As you can see some of us look rougher than others after our ordeal. Most of these members volunteered for this job, they showed the true spirit of the north. Thanks to you all.

     Volunteers were plentiful in the north. I was always amazed, if one had a breakdown on the Highway the first car that came along was sure to stop and offer assistance. I feel sorry for OPP Officers who never have the opportunity to serve in the north. They are missing a great deal.