#when in fact he flung open the door to his heart the minute he turned around and saw her standing there

[paranorahjones]

Lockwood: Nothing good comes from letting people in.

Also Lockwood: *gives Lucy his childhood room* *tells Lucy he wants her to be a part of his dreams for the agency like 4 hours after meeting her* *fights for her to have a place in the agency* *intentionally tries to share the spotlight with her (unfortunately against her wishes)* *gives Lucy a necklace that clearly means a lot to him* *brags to everyone who will listen about how amazing she is* *prepares and gives her toast unprompted* *looks at her like he never wants to look at anything BUT her* *checks in with her to make sure she's okay in the middle of cases and suggests they step back if she needs a minute* *holds Lucy's hand* *holds Lucy's hand* *holds Lucy's hand* *holds Lucy's hand* *hol-

[rosequarzo]

whiskers of change.

૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა • ! boyfriend! rafayel + fem! reader established relationship not related to the plotline rafayel being jealous over a cat yes ☆ warning not proofread . . . !? & 806 — catalogue

notes. i still hate this man i swear with my entire heart. but when i got to the chapter when he made a fuss about a cat got me laughing tbh... tagging @rninies, here you go.

When you mentioned that you were running late as you had encountered something, Rafayel didn’t think much about it. He had assumed you were held back by someone; much to his annoyance and continued touching up on his painting.

The artist was almost done when his ears picked up the familiar pair of approaching footsteps, followed by his door swung open from outside. The man dropped whatever he was holding, turning with a bright grin on his face, only for it to drop when his eyes landed on his worst nightmare. 

“Rafayel, hello? Are you still there?” You called out to him, one hand closing the door while the other was cradling a cat in your arms. 

Huffing, Rafayel got off his stool and approached you. He scowled and his eyes narrowed as he glared down at the annoying feline creature. His fingers twitched; the temptation of kicking the cat out of his home getting more tempting by the second. But he restrained himself. The last thing he wants is for you to be disappointed with him and he doesn’t like to see you sad, not when the cause was him. 

“You…” His voice trailed off, eyes focused on the cat as he watched it purring in content when it leans into your touch, its tail swaying side to side.

“Me?” You echoed, bemused. 

“You didn’t tell me you had adopted a… c… cat,” he forced himself to finish speaking, using his entire strength to tear his eyes away from the creature. 

You hummed, eyes flickering up to his face before returning to the purring cat. “It was abandoned and I couldn’t bear to leave it alone. Plus, it looked like it was going to rain soon and it didn’t have any home, so I brought it with me.” 

“And you didn’t think of dropping it off at the nearest animal shelter?” He arched an eyebrow. 

“They were already closed. I’ll drop it off tomorrow morning, before I head for work. So just for tonight-” 

“No.” 

You sighed, knowing your partner will react like this. You were fully aware of his unspoken dislike for cats and until now, you didn’t know the reason why. But you were patient, choosing to wait for him to spill the beans. A part of you finds his current self rather adorable, with how he was fuming over how the cat was stealing your attention from him. And who were you to not tease him? 

“Rafayel, don’t tell me you’re jealous,” you teased, lips curling upwards in a mischievous grin. 

“Jealous? Me?” He shots you a bewildered look and barks out a laugh, turning away from you. “Who says I’m jealous? Why would I be jealous over a cat?” 

You chuckled, deciding to drop the subject and let him be. “Sure, Rafayel. Whatever makes you happy.” 

~ 

Currently, you were in the kitchen preparing dinner for the two of you. You had left the cat in the living room, hoping your partner could get to know the cat and hopefully, it might change his opinion on cats as well. Rafayel sat in the corner of the couch, purposely stretching his long legs out so his entire body was occupying the couch, not giving any space for the cat.

But the creature wasn’t bothered. In fact, it merely jumped up and made itself comfortable on his stomach. 

Thankfully, you weren’t there to witness him visibly flinching when he felt a weight on his stomach. Rafayel had nearly flung the cat to the nearest wall but managed to catch himself at the last minute. He remained as still as a statue, watching warily as the cat curled folded its paws to hide it underneath its body, turning into a cute loaf.

He slowly reached out his hand, unsure of what he should do, only for the cat to make the choice for him. 

It leans into his palm, eyes closing in content and he swore he can hear faint purring from its small body. Rafayel was speechless, taken aback by how the cat had readily shown its affection to him; a complete stranger. He tried to copy your movement from before, awkwardly stroking its head and he knew he had got it right when the purring didn’t stop. 

Huh, perhaps cats aren’t so bad. 

~

“Dinner’s ready,” you called out once you finished setting the table. 

You headed to the living room when you were greeted with nothing but silence. The sight before you made you paused and it took all of your might to not squeal in delight. You quickly whipped out your phone, ensuring it was on silent mode and took multiple pictures of the heart-melting sight before you.

Satisfied with the pictures, you leave, not wanting to interrupt the peaceful moment of your partner sleeping with the cat resting on his stomach. 

[cheriiyaya]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ In all the time you've know dazai, he's just never let himself near you...

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ Contents: dazai x fem!reader, NOT PROOFREAD, touch starved and emotionally constipated dazai my beloved, hurt/comfort, descriptions of blood and injuries, dazai can't take care of himself for shit, established relationship, use of pet names, lil angst, dazai gets injured, reader and dazai aren't to far in their relationship, slight religious imagery near the end, just yeah

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ W/C: ~2k

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ A/N: yeah this DEF probably lost the poll but i had such a good idea for it so im doin' it >~&lt; @chuuyrr and @ruanais my lovelies here u go <3

When you heard dazai had gotten injured, you were sent into a worried frenzy. Yosano tried her best to reassure you, consoling you with the fact that his condition was stable as you clung onto her. Thankfully his wounds weren't that bad as to warrant a hospital visit, so he was sent home right on time.

It didn't matter to you that you technically didn't live with him yet- you'd only been with him for a month or so-you stuck next to him and went to his dorm that day with him, even as he told you it was no worry.

"It's really nothing, I'm fine." The way he chuckled out the words sounded strained, like it was a plea of sorts. You shook your head, holding out your hands for the keys. He glanced at your outstretched palm and chuckled. "Why, it seems you doesn't even trust me to open my own door." He pouted but placed the key to his dorm door in your hand.

"I do, I just wanna take care of you." You slid the key into the lock, twisted it, and opened the door and stepped inside. Dazai followed in quietly.

"...You really don-" You shot him a look and he quickly stopped himself from saying more, a sheepish smile on his face. As he entered his dorm you went behind him and pulled off his tan coat and flung it on a chair. As you did so, you noticed...

"Is that blood? oh my god osamu-" he cut you off with a short kiss to the lips, chuckling a bit as he pulls back.

"Love, it's old blood I'll be fine. Just lemme clean up, 'kay?" Those reassurances did nothing to soothe your worries. There was ruby-red stains of blood on his shirt right by his left shoulder blade and the visible bandages on his neck and wrists had a smattering of blood on them. Noticing your worried look dazai curled a finger under your chin, pressing his lips softly to your forehead as he smoothed down fly-aways in your hair. "don't worry." And with the lingering words of that whisper against your ear he went into the washroom, closing the door with a soft click behind him.

You don't know how long he took in the washroom, but either way you found yourself standing in front of the door, listening carefully at the shuffle of shoes scuffling on the floor and light sighs that dazai would emit. It sounded like he was fine, but you couldn't escape that lingering feeling in the back of your mind.

So you knocked, very gently against the wooden door.

"...osamu? You alright? You've been in there awhile." Silence, the a voice from the other side responded.

"Yes, I'm fine, don't worry about it." there was an edge in his voice, one that caused you to tense in worry.

"are you sure?" more silence followed you slightly panicked voice.

"yes, love I'm fine so plea-" a muffled hiss of pain was heard, then a sharp intake of breath. "...please don't worry." his voice was quiet, as if he knew you wouldn't listen.

"Do you want me to come it?" You couldn't hide the shake in your voice. after a minute or two of no response, you debated in your head whether or not you should just go in and check on him.

the door creaked open and you carefully stepped inside, gently calling out his name. dazai turned and looked at you, leaning against the counter shirtless and the bandages that usually serve as almost a protective skin loosely wrapped around him. Your heart dropped when you saw the open gash on his left shoulder blade, dripping sticky mahogany down his back. He smiled crookedly, a smile that made your heart throb in fear and worry.

"...I swear, it's not as bad as it looks. It just opened a little..." He trailed off, taking in a shaky breath as he saw your expression. "Don't look at me like that." You took careful steps before him, prying your eyes off the wound on his back.

"that needs to be stitched up. Let me do it."

"do you even know how to?" He chuckled a bit.

"Yosano taught me how to stitch up a wound once." You opened the cabinet under the sink. "Do you have a suturing kit?" dazai shook his head. you sighed, reaching in and moving around some rolls of bandages and such until you found a small container with needles and a roll of dental floss. you bent the needle into an arch-like shape, carefully emptying out the container of needles-far enough out on the counter that you knew none of the needles would fall onto the floor- and filled it with steaming water before dropping the arched needle into the water.

"Dental floss? You're gonna stitch me up with dental floss?" dazai chuckled.

"Mhm. It has less of a chance of breaking than regular thread." You washed your hands and fished out the needle, threaded the floss through it's eye before looking back up at dazai. "Can I...?" You motioned to the loose bandages on his torso and he slowly nodded.

You went behind him, pulling away and unravelling the sullied bandages and letting them drop onto the floor. Now that his entire torso was bare, you saw not only the gash, but multiple scars that ranged from tiny cuts to gunshot wound scars to long gashes. Swallowing, you wetted a towel and cleaned the blood off the wound and his back.

"Okay, I'm gonna stitch it up now..." Dazai hummed and offered a small smile.

"Oh yeah? be gentle if you're gonna kill me-you know I hate pain." You pierced the needle through his skin, feeling dazai's back tense and hearing him release a pained hiss. "Ow! Bella' that hurts!" He whined and you clicked your tongue, pulling out the needle and pushing it back it.

"stop whining." You couldn't help but smile even as you scolded him. You stitched up his wound and somewhere along the way his whines died into short grunts and hisses of pain whenever the needle pieced flesh and tissue and whenever it left.

"Stay here, alright?" You didn't wait for a response before leaving the bathroom and returning with a clean white button up. When you came back, dazai was trying to bandage himself up but you could tell that with an injury like that, it wasn't easy to. You set the button up down on the counter and gently pried the roll of cotton from him, looking up at him. "Let me. Please osamu." He hesitated before sighing, reaching out to cup your cheek in his hand.

"Alright..." He let his thumb brush against your cheekbone before letting it drop to his side. "After all, how could I deny my lovely girl when she asks so nicely for something?" He joked and you felt your lips curl into a smile.

"...there's that pretty smile." He said softly as you began to unfurl the roll. You wrapped it around his arms, probing him by asking if it was too tight-to which he always responded that it was "perfect". As you wrapped him up in spools of cotton you noticed how he unwillingly shivered each time your fingers grazed his skin, how he'd tense as your knuckles pressed against raised, scarred skin.

"Do you not like it when I touch you?" You murmured, pausing as you awaited a response.

"Why would you think that?' He smiles at you, cocking his head to the side.

"Just...nevermind." You began to wrap him again, but his voice stopped you.

"C'mon, what's wrong?" He turns around to face you, smiling a bit. "I wanna know what's going on in my darling's pretty little head." He poked you in between your eyebrow and you whined in response.

"It's just...You always flinch or just find some way to stop me whenever I touch you." It's true-dazai would always find some way to escape even the most innocent of your touches yet he was always fine with showering you with his sweet affection.

He chuckled, cupping your face up and he kissed the area he poked.

"I dunno what you're talking about, love." You rolled your eyes, poking his shoulder, and huffing out a soft "turn around", which he complied to and you continued wrapping his up as you spoke.

"Don't lie to me, you know damn well you do." You stopped bandaging him when you reached a particular scar on his shoulder. "Why do you do it?" You lightly traced the tip of your finger down the scar, causing him to tense up and try to move away. You squeezed his bicep as he tried to escape your touch. "Stay, please." He chuckled, turning his head to face you to say something before you cut him off with pressing your lips softly against the scar.

"Darling please-"

"I've been saying the same thing over and over again, and you haven't listen to me. Now you will listen to me." You pressed another kiss to the nape of his neck, rubbing comforting circles into his shoulder with your thumb.

"Please tell me why you keep hiding yourself from me." You whispered against his neck, the warm air of your breath raising goosebumps along his skin.

"I just...bella'." He sighed, looking at you through the mirror. Once he saw your expression, that pained expression on his darling girl's face he just had to say it, the words couldn't stay in.

"...I don't deserve you." That was it. The answer was simple and curt, yet it left a gaping hole in your heart and thousands of questions.

You were silent as you finished wrapping him up.

You wanted to make him happy, you really did.

So why did he feel undeserving of you?

You thought of it as you watched dazai lay on his futon, staring blankly at the ceiling after refusing to eat. You crouched beside him and sat on the floor, brushing his messy, dark bangs out of his eyes.

"Osamu? Can...can I stay the night with you?" You swallowed, your voice quieter than you would've liked. He nodded and you hesitated before laying beside him. "Move a bit."

You curled up beside him, feeling him tense up again before tentatively putting a hand a hand on your back. Dazai's eyes widen as he watched you sit up, hovering over him with a pained expression.

"...'donna?"

"Why don't you think you deserve me?" You trailed your fingers down his face, tracing every single one of his beautiful features as they contort into a sad smile.

"You want to know? It's because you're a delicate, pure thing and such things do not suit a blackened heart like mine."

"why not?"

"Because, my dear. You're an angel."

"And you're not?" You brushed your fingers through his hair. "Even if you weren't, the devil himself was once god's most favored angel."

He chuckled softly, leaning his head further into the pillow. "Ah, love, you have such a way with words; I don't suppose you could find a way to poison me with them?" You sighed and cupped his face, tilting it up before brushing your lips and fingers over every place and every curve of his features.

"Don't. Relax. Let me give you what you deserve." You whispered against his skin that had taken a pink-hue under your care. You kissed every part of his face and neck you could reach, peppering his skin with traces of love. Once there was no more room to fill with love, you moved to kiss every crease and scar of his calloused, blood-drenched hands as if to cleanse them of sin. His lips caught yours in a tender kiss, lithe fingers sliding into your hair and pulling you down to him. You left multitudes of promises with him, burying deep into his heart with every breath that the two of you took.

Dazai Osamu was yours, he'd always been. You were dazai osamu's, you'd always been.

Just like adam, you'd pluck the forbidden fruit if he asked you to simply because of the foolish thing called love. Even if you'd get cast away into hell you knew that he was the sought-after paradise-

Even if he didn't believe so.

©Cheriiyaya 2024

[night-dazai]

The Demon Never Died - 3

Dazai  X Reader 

Synopsis: You were rescued and now both you and Dazai are scared thinking that the other person hates the other only to find the truth and for Dazai to realise another fact about his pretty sweet soft gf. When she said she had her won share of madness and trauma she was not kidding . 

Word count : 2008

It has been how long you had no idea but all you knew was that your hands hurt very badly and you are sure they would leave a mark “Finally “ you said removing the rope from your feet. The fear in you has not left but since no one has come into that room you were brave enough to remove the rope and look around. “Thank god I was not cuffed to bed or something .” you mumbled, the room was tiny the moment anyone opened the door they could see one big white bed one nightstand with a heart-shaped lamp on it and a door to the right “bathroom, “ you said closing it . The tiny screen near the door was now black and no voices were also heard so with nothing to listen you opened the nightstand near the bed the only other furniture in the room “ wh-” you turned to the sound of the door throwing open. “ This is kinda nice why not sell her?” one said coming in while the other man closed the door . The black-haired man walked towards you as you fell back on the bed and chuckled seeing the fear in your eyes “ we did not even tell him much he surrendered, why does he love you so much ?” he asked grabbing your chin in a harsh pull . His nasty breath was close to your nose “wha..” you mumbled thinking about what he could mean . “ what else Dazai said he will surrender and we let you go “ the other red hair said opening the door “ we said we will send her back intact and we should “ .The man holding your chin opened your mouth with force and popped a pill in as he dragged you out “ Dazai …why .why would he” you mumbled feeling tired and soon slumped as they dragged you . 

Dazai stood in the warehouse for the past 20 minutes tapping his feet impaitinetly “ what is taking them so long “ he mumbled as his mind raced a million of things they could do to you . The sweet , innocent flower you were and he knew you had never faced anything like this ever . Naomi placed a hand on his shoulder “calm down we are just early “ . As she finished talking a car pulled up at the opening, Dazai and Naomi both turned to see 6 men come out of 2 cars and one held you mouth tied hands cuffed and red . Dazai’s blood boiled “ come here “ one of the man with black hair said looking like the leader he stood in the middle as the red hair behind him was removing the cloth from your mouth “DAZAI GET OUT !” you shouting making everyone look at you suprised. Dazai’s eyes widened “ get out and dont you dare surrender “ you shouted struggling from the man grasp. Before Dazai could get a word out SLAP! the leader-looking guy spoke “ shut up before it goes south “ he grabbed your hair and made you kneel putting a knife to your neck “ come here Dazai before this thing is dead “. You were still crying, you could not see much due to the tears and your head felt dizzy . You were sure your lips were bleeding. “No” was all you hear Dazai say , you looked up with hazy eyes and now saw many people dressed in black.

The men around you struggled to understand the situation. Taking their guns out the were ready , the guy tugged your hair harder making it hurt a lot more “ She is de-” A bullet hit his leg and hand making him fall to the said limp and scream. All you do was be still and shake in fear as bullets rained making all the men near you fall dead . Your taers was running like a river. Feeling a hand on your eyes you flinched “ y/n ..its me “ you opened your eyes to see you lover kneeling in front of you . You flung yourself on him “ whyy..whyyy” you shouted and kept crying as Dazai held you tightly running small circles on your back “ i am sorry y/n “ was the last thing you heard before fainting. 

Jun'ichirō snapped his fingers and all the illusions of the military men was gone, Kunikida showed up with a sniper gun with Kenji next to him “The majority are injured very much “ he said giving his sunshine smile but the moment he saw you his face went blank . “can i take-” Dazai stopped him “ thanks but i would like to have alone time with them while the government comes here“ he said handing you gently to his partner whom he trusts with all his heart. Dazai pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear “Make sure she is alright i will be joining you people soon after Ango comes here” his voice was falt with no emotion other than his trembling hand on your face he watched as Kenji, Jun'ichirō and Kunikida walked out . “Now … i told you i would surrender without any problem and was honestly thinking about letting you guys to get your revenge on me “ he cracked his knuckles and neck.

Anger was visible in his face and his voice was strong and scary the 6 men trembled “ i left this all back years go i did but i nerve said i will not do it “ his head titled to the side looking like a psycho Dazai smiled at his prey he removed his brown trench coat , walking towards the corner in the warehouse he came back wearing a thick black coat “ Please allow me to show you my old tricks “ he said bowing dramatically smiling sending chills down the men on the floor already bleeding. 

Ango stood outside the warehouse with his men for the past 40 mins mostly cause after 5 mins of his arrival he could hear horrified screams form the other side and knew “lets wait here “ he told his men and waited . Dazai opened the door after a few more mins “ Ya!! Ango , you are here early “ Dazai said back to his cheery voice and goofy aura but this appearance did not match them. A black coat replaced the brown coat he stood blood splashed all over him , pure white bandages soaked in blood “ yeah now you just gave me more work of treating them “ he said adjusting his specs.

Giggling Dazai patted Ango’s shoulder “ well you are good at it right , this is off record “ his voice suddenly went cold saying the last part . Before he got a reply Dazai’s phone rang “ y/n woke up and said she wanted to go back to your shared house she is treated but refused to stay the agency “ Dazai hummed in response hanging up walked back home , a place he thought he could never have . 

It has been 2 hours since you woke up and cried for sold 30 mins on the agency couch you said you wanted to go home. Kunikida against it let you go with Athushi when Ranpo told it would be better for you that way. The moment you came back in you dropped to the floor crying hard your mind revolving all horrible images, “why Dazai was not next to you when you woke up , did he think they did something to you ? was his disgusted or was he hurt ? his hands were tied ….yet crying you walked into the room and practically pulled a bunch of his shirts and made a pile of out it to sit and cry till your lover came in . Soon it turned into little sobs while you thought about other things " what happened to those men ? is it alright for me to imagine them being hurt ? " and that's when your brain hit it . Dazai might do it but "his hands were tied and they might be high profile criminals what if samu gets hurt ?" and the thought just made you sob more  

Dazai stood outside the apt door wondering in what stay would he find you , what can he say , will you wan to break up , will you hate him. His still opened the door uttering your name softly but found that all random lights were on but you were not in the hall or kitchen he walked worried and scared to the bedroom you both share. The sight in front of him made his heart and whole body clench in pain and guilt seeing your plight wearing one of his shirts and lying on the rest crying your heart out. “Y/n ?” his soft voice made you look at him in fear, more than anything else he hurt at the way you reacted  “Any can just kill or torture me “ he thought and walked towards you seeing how you got up and opened your arms like a 5 years old asking for a hug but with bandaged wrists . “Sorry dear ..please…dont cryyy” he said hugging you while soothing your hair “pleasee you are making me cry too” he mumbled with wet eyes “Dazai…dont cry” you still mumbled hiding your face in his chest and there you both sat crying on each other for a while before both of you calm down and soon your rational minds started functioning.

“Here “ he said handing you a cup of white tea “Thank you “ you mumbled and pulled closer ot him as he sat down next to you . “Why would you shout something like that y/n ?” Dazai got right to point starting at you with dark eyes filled with nothing but worry “Cause its true “ you said pouting and sipping your tea “ dont ever i mean ever sacrifice yourself for me you never know i might be worth it “ you said sipping your tea and turned the tv for distcartion. “Why..” his voice broken making you turn to see his eyes getting wet again “ Osamu..” you mumbled and held his hand “Just like how you hate to see me hurt i also do not want to see you hurt i will say this again and again but please i want to be with you if you allow me . If you still like me..” your last sentence facing make the brunette look at you with the question “ why would i not like you ?” you fumbled with your hands “ well..i was kidnapped ..for a while you might know what they did ..” you said softly but panicked feeling his hand go hard “no..i mean they did not do anything to me please trust me!” you also said most begging him .

Dazai could not take anymore his heart and body felt tired “ why ..why in the world would i doubt you love, i know and even if they did something they would be dead and “ he held both your hands tightly getting down on his knees “ i am sorry sorry that you had to go through something like that “ sincerity filled his voice and eyes looking at you his hands trembled yet he held yours tightly. Smiling you bumped your foreheads “ Samu you recall what i told you when you asked why i chose you ?” your voice now normal and cheery, he nodded without blinking you “ you took the coat off ok but your shirt ? , you jaw “ you said tracing the staring and sharp bone “ see blood “ you said showing you finers. Embrassed he looked away but you forced his chin back to you “ i know they are off the hook “ your eyes dug deep into his smiling “ did they beg ?” you asked. Confused for a min Dazai looked at you and blinked understanding the meaning he giggled kissing your hands “ yes dear, they begged a lot to die “You kissed his forehead “ good , see this is why dont be sorry and get up i feel cold “ you said pulling him up .

You snuggled into his arms and that's when he realised you were not some innocent little flower who knew nothing about the world, he never took it seriously when Ranpo said the way you watched gore was different now he knew, you might be naive and foolish and sweet and kind but under them hid something and he also realised that you could see right into his soul from the first time he saw you he realised “ you saw that the demon never died right ?” he asked. You poped your head from his chest and smiled back the sweetest smile “ yes “ 

Thank you for reading this i was supposed to write a smut scene but will do it separately. 

If you have any specific requests do send them to me.

If there are any mistakes please do mention them for me to correct them in the future.

[batwynn]

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

    While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—

            Only this and nothing more.”

    Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

    Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

    From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

            Nameless here for evermore.

    And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

    So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

    “’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—

            This it is and nothing more.”

    Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

    But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

    And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—

            Darkness there and nothing more.

    Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

    But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

    And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—

            Merely this and nothing more.

    Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

    “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

      Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

            ’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

    Open here I flung the door, when, with many a huff and grunting,

In there stepped a stoutly walrus of the saintly days of yore;

    Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

    But, with mien of lord or lady, flopped at my chamber door—

Lay upon the floor at my chamber door—

            Loaf, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this briny creature beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

“Though thy form be fat and tubular, thou,” I said, “art sure no insular,

Ghastly grim and random walrus wandering from the Nightly shore—

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

            Quoth the Walrus “Nevermore.”

    Much I marvelled this ungainly mammal to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

    For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

    Ever yet was blessed with seeing walrus at his chamber door—

Fish or beast upon the floor situated at his chamber door,

            With such name as “Nevermore.”

    But the Walrus, sitting lonely on the cold floor, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

    Nothing farther then he uttered—not a flipper then he flapped—

    Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have swam before—

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have swam before.”

            Then the Walrus said “Nevermore.”

    Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store

    Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

    Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

            Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

    But the Walrus still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of creature, and floor and door;

    Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

    Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous mammal of yore—

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, fat, and ominous creature of yore

            Meant in roaring “Nevermore.”

    This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the beast whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

    This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

    On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

            She shall press, ah, nevermore!

    Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

    “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

    Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”

            Quoth the Walrus “Nevermore.”

    “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if beast or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

    Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

    On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”

            Quoth the Walrus “Nevermore.”

    “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if beast or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—

    Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

    It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”

            Quoth the Walrus “Nevermore.”

    “Be that word our sign of parting, beast or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

    Leave no yellow tusk as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

    Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the floor at my door!

Take thy tusks from out my heart, and take thy form from out my door!”

            Quoth the Walrus “Nevermore.”

    And the Walrus, never flipping, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the dark and dusty stretch just before my chamber door;

    And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

    And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

            Shall be lifted—nevermore!

[cannibalcaprine]

The Raven

Edgar Allan Poe

January 1845

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—

Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—

This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—

Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”

Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted—nevermore!

oh yay Poe night in the inbox

[multifandomfanfic]

can you write something for hector bellerin ? plss !!

like a angst with reader being insecure about her body ? thanks already.

Stretch Marks

Héctor Bellerín x reader

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Thanks for the request! It was nice to get one that wasn’t for Messi or Ronaldo! :))))

Your torso twisted and turned, trying to make itself as attractive as possible. You contorted every which way, but the mirror never reflected what you wanted. You slid the jacket on your shoulders again. It made no difference; it still fell just short of the slits in your dress. You ripped it off and flung it to who-knows-where. 

You had tried on the same dress three times in the span of ten minutes; each time you threw it onto the floor to wrinkle, only to begrudgingly try it on again. No matter what you did to the dress, no matter what bit of fabric you readjusted or pins you used, your stretchmarks refused to be hidden.

At this point, it was like they had always been there. You had gone through a massive growth spurt as a teen. It was no big deal at the time; in fact, you had been ecstatic that you were becoming like the women who graced the covers of magazines and ads you saw at the store.  Now you weren’t as thrilled.

The growth spurt left permanent pink and white marks on your stomach and thighs. Permanent proof that it had happened.

When Hector had bought you the dress, you thought nothing of it, not seeing the low slits on each side. It was an issue now. He would be heartbroken if you did not wear it, but he would understand. He would have to understand.

The alarm clock on your bedside table suddenly caught your attention. 7:23pm. 

“Shit,” you mumbled. Hector and you had to leave at 7:30 on the dot. The restaurant had been hesitant to reserve you a table with hardly a week’s notice; it was only Hector’s fame that made them change their mind.

You tugged the fabric of your dress down one more time. The cut-outs were both just low enough to reveal the discoloration on your skin. It was so obvious, so... embarrassing. The marks were glaringly different from everything else. It was as if there was a sign next to them saying “Look at me!” You groaned. You couldn’t let anyone see them. This dress would not do.

Within seconds you had pulled the dress over your head for the fourth time and thrown it on the bed. It was gorgeous even crumpled on your unmade bed. But, paparazzi would be hounding you from the moment you stepped out of the car. They would be pointing their cameras in your face. Each flash and click would mean one more picture of the imperfections on your sides. 

If there was any way you could prevent them from seeing your stretch marks, you would do it.

You checked the clock. 7:26pm. You cast the doors to your closet wide open, ignoring them as they hit the wall with a thud. Rows and rows of beautiful clothes greeted you, but none of them were what you wanted. 

A knock came from the door of your shared bedroom. You had kicked Hector out, wanting to surprise him when you donned the dress for the first time. His disappointment was a small price to pay.

“Mi amor,” his voice sounded through the room, “May I come in?”

“One moment, please!”

You could sense him checking his watch and sighing. There was not a moment to spare, but you had to find another perfect dress. Even if it was impossible. Other futball players’ girlfriends’ didn’t show their stretchmarks (if they even had any)--why should you?

“We don’t have much time! I already know you look gorgeous in that dress.”

You groaned in frustration, a silk blouse scrunched in your hand. None of the clothes in your closet would do. None of them were good enough, none of them were nice enough, none of them were what Hector picked out. If only the other dress didn’t have those stupid slits.

“One more m-,” you began as you walked back into the bedroom, but were quickly interrupted from beyond the door. “Honey, considering what we put him through to get these reservations, the manager might have a heart attack if we’re not there on time! Besides, I want to show off my beautiful girlfriend.”

It rolled off of Hector’s tongue like a compliment, but it carried the pain of an insult. You weren’t beautiful. The most perfect dress in the world didn’t even look good on you.

“Well, what if I don’t want to go anymore?”

You huffed and fell back onto your shared bed. That was it. You rubbed your eyes, the tears already starting to form. Hector would understand. He had never said anything about your stretch marks before, but he had to find them as hideous as you did. The door squeaked as it opened. Hector’s steps creaked on the floor of your bedroom until he was right next to you, standing on the rug. You turned and buried your face into a pillow. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

The soft fabric absorbed your tears, “I don’t want to go out anymore.”

Hector’s laid his palm on your upper back, “I know that’s not true… but, you don’t have to tell me the truth if you don’t want to.”

A sob erupted from deep within your chest. Months of doubt came flooding out in the form of tears. You weren’t good enough for Hector Bellerin. You never would be. He was a world-class athlete, someone millions of men want to be and millions of women want to be with. You were a girl with an ugly body without your own claim to fame.

But none of those feelings properly came out into words.

Instead, Hector made his way to the bathroom and returned with a new tissue box. He placed one into your hand.

“Thank you,” you sniffled. You sat up straight and wiped your eyes.

“Of course.”

The room was quiet. The clock on your bedside table flashed 7:39, but neither of you made any move to leave. Hector wrapped his arm around your shoulders; your head instinctively rested on his.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

You opened your mouth to speak. How were you to word this?

“Do you… do you like being seen with me?” you finally spat out. You kept your head down and fiddled with the tissue in your hand.

Hector turned to face you, “Is that why you don’t want to go to dinner? Y/N, I love you from the bottom of my heart. Why wouldn’t I like being seen with you?” “But my stretch marks, Hector! This dress shows them!” you exclaimed, lifting your head off of his shoulder and meeting his gaze, “And don’t forget the extra weight I can’t get rid of and–!”

Hector grabbed your hand, “Y/N, stop it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Stop it, please,” Hector repeated, “That all means nothing to me.”

You rolled your eyes and sighed, “Yeah, right.”

“They don’t, Y/N. If I was embarrassed to go out with you, I wouldn’t have begged that poor manager to get us a reservation!” he said, “I love you for many reasons, Y/N, and the fact that you are absolutely gorgeous is only a part of it.”

You looked down at the slits. The marks were still there, but they did not look as bad as they had before. They were just marks on your skin–everyone has them.

“You really don’t mind them?” you said.

“I don’t,” he replied, an all-to-familiar smirk growing on his face, “In fact, they mark exactly where I hold on to you when w–”

“Stop!” you exclaimed, giggling as he pulled you closer and peppered kisses down your jaw and neck, “We have to go!”

“I thought you said you didn’t want to.” “I’ve changed my mind,” you replied, sliding off the bed onto your feet and running your fingers through your hair, “but I would be happy to continue this afterward.”

[final-girl96]

My Boyfriend's Back Chapter Thirteen

I heard the attic door open and I held my breath when he walked past me. "Baby, I know you're up here. Come out. I'm not going to hurt you." Once I saw he was at the other side by the windows I bolted up and ran back down the steps and slammed the door shut. "Fucking bitch!" I yelped when he slammed into the door. I was trying to reach for the chair in the corner so I could put it under the doorknob but he was stronger than me.

I couldn't hold the door closed so I just ran. I ran out of his room and down the stairs. I could hear Billy taunting Sidney in the kitchen. I paused only for a second debating on trying to help her but the sound of Stu's footsteps running down the stairs pushed me to run again. I flung the door open and ran outside, down the steps, and across the lawn. "You can't run forever, babe!" I looked behind me to see Stu was gaining on me and fast. I made a last minute decision and cut to the left towards the old barn. It could see it only a few feet away when I was tackled to the ground.

I screamed trying to get away only to be flipped onto my back. "Gotta say, I love the fucking chase. Look how hard you've got me, baby." The look in his eyes scared me more than the fact he had killed people. It was the same way a predator looks at its prey. My heart was pounding hard against my ribcage as fear coursed through me. Tears pricked at the corner of my eyes, my body started to shake. "Please…don't hurt me," I choked out. He must have seen the fear and how terrified of him in my eyes.

His hand came up to cup my face, thumb softly brushing across the apple of my cheek. "I would never hurt you, baby. I'm trying to save you but you're making it a little hard." He went to kiss me but I turned my head. I heard the low rumble of frustration in his chest when he let out a growl of a sigh. "You're lucky I need to get you back to the house. Because otherwise…" he leaned closer so his lips brushed my ear. "I'd fuck that cunt so hard you wouldn't be able to run from me again."

He stood, pulling me with him and then threw me over his shoulder. When we got back into the house he went back to the kitchen. "About fucking time!" Stu dropped me onto my feet and I rushed to Sidney. Her arms wrapped around me as I clung to her. "Now, let's get back to where we were," Billy said, holding the knife up. I was assuming it was all the adrenaline that had to be coursing through Stu for the reason he didn't seem to be in pain. Billy stabbed him again as he went on another rant.

"Get the gun and I'll get him, okay?" He said to Stu, gesturing to dad. Stu turned around to grab the gun only for it to be gone. "Uh… we have a problem…" he said, tapping on the counter. "The gun's missing." Billy shoved past him, "Where's it at?!" He growled. "I don't know. I put it right there." Billy looked over at me like I was the one that took it. I should have but I didn't even think about that. "Where is it?" He yelled at me. "Right here, asshole."

He turned around and Gale stood there with the gun pointed at him. "I thought she was dead," he said, looking at Stu. "She looked dead. Still does." Gale holds the gun firm in her hand. "I've got an ending for you. The reporter left for dead in the news van comes to, stumbles upon you two dipshits, finds the gun, fumbles your plan, and saves the day," she says. Sidney stepped forward. "I like that ending." Gale went to pull the trigger but the dumb bitch forgot to take the safety off. Billy lunges at her, taking the gun. When they were both distracted Sidney and I helped dad up and went to hide in the hall closet.

Sidney took the phone and voice distorter out of our dad's jacket pocket. We could hear Billy throwing a fit. Sidney held the phone out to me, "dial Stu's number." I looked at the phone and shook my head. I was too terrified at what would happen. She nodded and dialed it herself and talked to Billy with the voice distorter. We could hear him yelling and throwing more of a fit. Then I heard Stu on the phone. Sidney leaned closer to me so I could hear.

"Hello?" He answered. "So Stu, what's your motive? Billy's got one. The police are on their way. What are you going to tell them?" Sidney asked. "Peer pressure. I'm far too sensitive." There was a rustling on the other end. "I'm gonna rip you up bitch. Just like your slut whore mother!" Billy screamed. "Gotta find me first, you pansy-assed mama's boy!" That only pissed him off more. We could hear him screaming, calling us bitches and throwing things.

"Did you really call the police?" Stu asked. "You bet your sorry ass I did," she told him. "My mom and dad are going to be so mad at me," Stu whined and I had to stop myself from laughing. "Is she there with you? Is yn with you?" Sidney handed me the phone and nodded. I brought it to my ear. "Baby? I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please just come out. I won't hurt you I promise." I didn't say anything for a minute. "Get fucked." I hung up and looked at Sidney. She had a plan. She knew Billy would come looking once his temper tantrum was over.

She grabbed the costume that was left in the closet and put it on. Then she grabbed an umbrella and pushed me behind her. We waited for a few minutes until we heard footsteps outside the door. She raised the umbrella up and waited. The footsteps walked past but then walked back a few seconds later. The door knob twisted and the door opened. The second it opened it wide enough Sidney pushed through and jammed the tip of the umbrella into Billy's shoulder.

He screamed out in pain and fell back. Sidney pulled the costume off. I walked out behind her and looked down at Billy. "Bitch!" We looked over to see Stu charging towards us. He tackled Sideny to the ground and flipped so she was on top. Her knee came down on his side where Billy had stabbed him. He punched her then they flipped over the couch. I ran towards them jumping on his back as he tried to choke Sidney.

He let go of her and flipped me off of him so he could straddle my waist. "I didn't want to hurt you, babe, but you're in my fucking way!" His hands came to rest on either side of my head and lifted it up. Before he could slam my head down Sidney smashed a vase over his head. I rolled out from under him and scrambled to get to my feet. Sideny reached down to try and help me when she was slammed into the wall by Billy and Stu's hand wrapped around my ankle to pull me back towards him.

[alphabetcompletionist]

on a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door—

"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door—

Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,

"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—

This it is and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you"—here I opened wide the door;—

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"—

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

'Tis the wind and nothing more!"

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door—

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as "Nevermore."

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing further then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—

Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before—

On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."

Then the bird said "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

Of 'Never—nevermore.'"

But the Raven still beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,

But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite—respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!"

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil—prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting—

"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted—nevermore!

ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXY

25/26

literally on Wikipedia for lipograms, my dgo

[the-gnomish-bastard]

The Bastard

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of my grimoire—

While I rhyme cast, nearly rapping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my orb room door.

“’Tis some apprentice,” I muttered, “tapping at my orb room door—

Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the mid September;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Seymour—

For the rare and radiant wizard whom the council name Seymour—

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each magic curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

“’Tis some apprentice entreating entrance at my orb room door—

Some late apprentice entreating entrance at my orb room door;—

This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my will grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

“Witch,” said I, “or Wizard, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was rapping, and so gently you came snapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my orb room door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, conjured dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Seymour?”

This I whispered, and a goblin murmured back the word, “Seymour!”—

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the orb room turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a speed and scutter,

In there climbed a stately Gnome of the cursed days of yore;

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—

Perched upon a bust of Dallas just above my orb room door—

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this bastard gnome beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no lizard,

Ghastly grim and bastard wizard wandering from the Nightly shore—

Tell me what thy cursed name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

Quoth the Bastard “Check your floor.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing gnome above his orb room door—

Gnome or beast upon the sculptured bust above his orb room door,

With such name as “Check your floor.”

But the Bastard, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

Those three words, as if his soul in those three words he did outpour.

Nothing farther then he uttered—not a spell then he muttered—

Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have come before—

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have gone before.”

Then the gnome said “Check your floor.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

Of ‘Check—check your floor’.”

But the bastard still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of gnome, and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous gnome of yore—

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous gnome of yore

Meant in croaking “Check your floor.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion’s velvet lining that the torch-light gloated o’er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the torch-light gloating o’er,

He shall weave, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these magos he hath sent thee

Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Seymour;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Seymour!”

Quoth the Bastard “Check your floor.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if gnome or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether magos tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—are there elves in Felnorad?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”

Quoth the Bastard “Check your floor.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if gnome or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us—by the Gods we both adore—

Tell this soul with sorrow atire if, within the distant spire,

It shall clasp a sainted squire whom the magos name Seymour—

Clasp a rare and radiant squire whom the magos name Seymour.”

Quoth the Bastard “Check your floor.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, gnome or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

Leave no gnome hat as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!

Take thy sword from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”

Quoth the Bastard “Check your floor.”

And the bastard, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Dallas just above my orb room door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of an eldritch’s that is dreaming,

And the torch-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted—nevermore!

[junjiie]

리키 ✶ ⠀ LOVE, LOVE, LOVE! ⠀ SHEN QUANRUI

장 4 ⠀ . . . . ⠀ (honourary) independent woman

⠀⠀ ᶻᶻᶻ ⠀ ( ⠀ part written! ⠀ wc 1.1k ★ ⠀ )

ricky was woken up by the incessant buzzing of his phone, the sound only amplified due to its position face-down on his bedside table. he flung an arm out and fumbled around with it for a few moments, fiddling with the charger to pull it out from its place and rolled over to blink blearily at the name flashing repeatedly on the screen.

he came to his senses a little more when he realised it was your contact being displayed, and he absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair in a half-hearted attempt to make himself look a little more presentable before he pressed the accept button. you came into view immediately, an expression on your face that looked like you couldn’t decide whether to be annoyed or amused, and launched into conversation the second you saw him staring back at you.

“finally, ricky, you really know how to keep a boy waiting. i’ve been calling you for the last ten minutes.”

quanrui huffed a laugh, voice rough from the lack of use when he replied. once he had cleared his eyes from sleep and his vision was clearer, he saw that you had moved to prop your phone onto your desk and was standing in front of it, one foot tapping a beat onto your carpet.

“i just woke up, n/n, can’t you cut me some slack? what did you need, anyway?”

you huffed and crossed your arms, leaning closer and furrowing your brow at him.

“you shouldn’t be, it’s one in the afternoon! and i have a date, if you must know. wanted to see if you could give me an idea of what to wear.”

a date. his stomach felt like it’d dropped through the floor for some reason, a feeling he didn’t know well enough to put a name to sparking in his chest. since when?

despite his lack of reply, you carried on regardless, turning on your heel to fling open your wardrobe door and start slowly rifling through the many choices it had to offer.

“i’m going to that cute café near our practice room, with jinsik—the one that answered my phone for me that one time, you remember?”

ricky managed to snap out of his momentary stupor long enough to nod, shuffling to sit up a little straighter.

“yeah, i remember. what, you just want me to tell you what to wear?”

you nodded from where you were still turned around, now rising up on your toes to reach a hoodie folded neatly and sitting on the top shelf of your closest. the movement made the shirt you were wearing drag up your back, exposing a sliver of skin that he focused on almost immediately, before he forced himself to look away and internally scolded himself. why was he feeling so weird?

a yawn assaulted him before he could take the time to think over the answer and he raised his hand to cover it. he relaxed into the pillows behind him and watched you dig through your collection of clothes for a few moments more before he decided he could probably get away with closing his eyes and drifting off for just a little while longer, and got comfortable in his place.

he was wrong.

“ricky. i can see you. wake up!”

your voice was tinny through the speakers of his phone, muffled due to the duvet the device was half-buried in, but the unimpressed tone was clear as day. he groaned and reopened his eyes, stretching wide in his spot and trying to wake himself up properly.

“fine, i’m up. what were you thinking, anyway? narrowed it down yet?”

you turned back around to face him, arms full of hoodies and shorts and a few stray pairs of socks scattered on top. “to these, at least.” a frown flitted down over your face as you glared down at the offending items in your hands, before you perked up again with an idea. “what if i tried them all on and you told me what looks best?”

ricky agreed easily, happy with the fact that he didn’t have to put much coherent thought into it other than nodding or shaking his head at its most basic. you shot him a thumbs up and dumped all the clothes you were holding onto your desk chair, leaning forward once your hands were free to nudge your phone so that it fell face-down onto the wooden surface of your desk.

he sat quietly in the darkness of his bedroom while you pottered around your room to change, the only sound coming from either of you being your absent humming as you did so—a destiny’s child song, ricky recognised it to be. one he’d probably first heard while sitting in the backseat of jiwoong’s car and zhang hao had the aux.

the silence was something he took the time in to try and figure out why he still felt so borderline nauseous, an unsettling sensation in the pit of his stomach. maybe it was something he ate? he was at jiwoong’s the night before with all the others, and despite how questionable the food he’d cooked seemed to look, he—against what, in retrospect, was definitely his better judgement—went ahead and ate it anyway.

but it didn’t feel like the result of a bad meal. he thought back to your earlier words. i have a date, if you must know. that’s what kicked it off. ricky couldn’t understand why the sentence had bothered him so much. the same thing had happened when the boy he hadn’t bothered to remember the name of (despite you mentioning it not five minutes earlier) had answered your phone in your place the other day, a sharp twist in his gut that he couldn't really explain at the thought of you with someone else, someone you liked, someone you were going on a date with—

oh. fuck.

as if on cue, you lifted your phone up again and gave ricky a spin in the clothes you’d chosen. they looked good on you, as everything did, and when you asked for his opinion it was all he could do to offer up all the compliments he could manage and send you off with a smile, a reassurance that it would go fine.

when you hung up he was left with nothing but the call ended screen and the crumbling avalanche that was quickly becoming the state of his emotions. in his opinion, the only thing to do was to make a panic twitter account in response and hope someone would help him in his time of desperate, dire need.

Q: What do you do when you’ve just realised you’re in love with your best friend, whom you’ve known for most of your life, and he’s going on a date with someone else? And probably has whole lines of people waiting for a chance to talk to him?

A: ???????

m.list⠀ ★ ⠀previous⠀ ☆ ⠀next

jj 👻 ˚⊹ .ᐟ ⠀ Hii gang i hope the written section isnt like crazyy full of mistakes i didnt read it over LOL. i also hope it isnt like. just #Bad in general.. lmk though

taglist ˚⊹ .ᐟ ⠀ @mangowonyo @wave2love @rickyvinn @deafeningtyrantmilkshake @i-yeseo @mins-fins @so2uv (ENHA GANG NOW .. im jay)

💬 — Signing Off . . . ⠀ junjiie!

[mxssingmemories]

Not a Girl.

Pairing: Tom Holland x teen trans male reader

Summary: Y/N is trans male, and after a fight with his mom, he goes straight to the person who knows him the best-Tom. They've been best friends for years, and Tom's happy to help his favorite person however he can.

Warnings: Transphobia, dyphoria, hurt/comfort, lots of love from Tom.

Word Count: 1,000 ish!

A/N: this is kind of a vent fic, and I'm sending love to everyone who's ever gone through this. So much love for y'all <3

The familiar feeling washed over you as you heard your mother talking to your grandmother. they were in the middle of an argument again-to you, it seemed like they'd been arguing every single day. Your grandmother was a very religious woman, and your mother just..couldn't accept the fact that you were trans. This was not news to you-your mother had supported you during your early transition, but her support had wavered and eventually almost died out.

You didn't mean to, but you ended up accidentally overhearing part of the conversation.

"Jesus, I mean you never fucking know with Y/N! She- I mean he- God, I don't even know what to call her anymore!"

At this comment, your eyes filled with tears. You chose to ignore the rest off the conversation, throwing on a jacket and tank top over your binder and putting your shoes on. You flung open your door, barely bothering to say bye to your mother.

"Where are you going?"

"Out." You said, walking out the door and slamming it behind you, starting up the car. It was cold for an Autumn day, so you turned the heater on full blast, locked the doors, and let yourself cry. All the thoughts about you not really being trans, not being good enough, wanting to be a "real man" came at you like a hurricane, overwhelming the hell out of you.

It wasn't fair. You were pretty sure of who you are, hell, you've been out for almost two years! Sure, you didn't really present all that masculine but you knew in your heart you weren't a girl. Every time you looked at your bare chest, you felt nothing for it-you didn't feel attached to them at all, and never once have you imagined yourself without a flat chest. You hated the way your voice sounded. You hated almost everything about yourself, especially the "feminine" traits your mom constantly said she saw in you. Normally you would confront your mom about this. Today, though, it was just too much-and for once, you let it be.

Through your tears, you let your brain run on memory to take you where you needed to go. You ended up at Tom's cozy cabin in the woods-the place where the two of you would hang out the most often. You were there so much he even had your own room, the "Tom Holland best friend special", in his words. It had started pouring rain in the time you got there, just getting out of the car had you soaked.

When Tom heard the frantic knock on the door, he opened it with a smile on his face. That smile quickly vanished when he saw his best friend soaked and with tears running down his face, he quickly ushered you inside.

"Hey, hey, easy there. Why don't we get you a pair of dry clothes, yeah?" He sat you down gently on the soft brown couch, Tessa immediately jumping up on you and letting you hold onto her for dear life. The minute Tom disappeared, your sobs got louder, Tessa's concerned eyes finding your face and licking it. You buried your face in her fur, waiting for your bestfriend to come back anxiously.

Tom emerged from the stairs about a minute later, clean clothes in hand.

"Where do you wanna change, bug?" he asked you, voice softer than usual.

"Here's fine.."

"Alright, I'm gonna go into the kitchen and make us some hot chocolate, okay? Call me when you're ready for me to come back in." he said, heading back into the kitchen.

You got changed as quickly as you could, hoping your body could just disappear. The sounds of mugs clinking and things being made distracted your mind a little bit, and soon enough you called Tom back in.

Mugs of hot chocolate in hand, Tom sat down beside you. Now that you were more comfortable, he decided it was time to start the conversation.

"What happened, lovie?" he asked, concern finding its way back into his eyes.

"Nothing," you mumbled, "I'm fine."

"Bullshit. I'm not an idiot, Y/N. You showed up here in tears and shaking like a leaf..what's wrong?" his tone went from angry to tender in a flash, and tears sprung to your eyes for what seemed like the fiftieth time today. You sighed, deciding to come clean.

"Me and mom got into a fight. Afterwards, I heard her saying some stuff about me being trans. It really hurts Tom. I know I can't expect everyone to be okay with it, but I really thought she was on my side. I just..can't keep doing this. It's fucking awful." you whimpered.

"Oh, lovie," Tom cooed, putting you on his chest to where you could hear his heartbeat.

You let the tears fall once again, more desperately. The smell of the fireplace burning and the sound of the rain on the big glass windows eventually pulled you back to reality. Staring outside into the forest, you let your mind quiet down for the first time in a while, feeling safe in your best friend's arms.

"You know I'll always support you, right? Whatever happens, I'm here. You have a room at the cabin for a reason, bug. You're the best man I know by far, and nothing can change that. You're even better than Sebastian and Chris," he teased, making you smile.

"That's not a hard mark to beat," you giggled, rolling your eyes when Tom ruffled your hair.

"Wanna go take a nap? I'm sure you're positively exhausted. I'll carry you upstairs, if that's easier."

"Yes please," you mumbled, allowing Tom to hold you in his arms to carry you up the stairs. Finally opening the door to your room, he sat you on the bed after pulling the covers back.

"Want the fairy lights on?" he asked, and at your nod, the room was dimly lit once again. The atmosphere was perfect-the rain outside, the room lit by only the lights, and the comfort that washed over you was the best thing you'd experience in a while. As Tom went to leave, you grabbed his arm.

"Stay?" you practically begged, your puppy dog eyes at work.

"Of course, Y/N. That's what best friends are for." he smiled, tucking you back into bed. You curled up next to him, Tessa snuggling up with you both.

"G'night, lovie." he mumbled, letting his eyes shut. You were both content in each other's arms as you two finally let sleep take you.

[affricative-collective]

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door—

"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door—

Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,

"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—

This it is and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you"—here I opened wide the door;—

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"—

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

'Tis the wind and nothing more!"

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door—

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as "Nevermore."

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing further then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—

Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before—

On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."

Then the bird said "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

Of 'Never—nevermore.'"

But the Raven still beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,

But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite—respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!"

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil—prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting—

"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted—nevermore!

…what

[staffs-secret-blog]

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—

Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—

This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—

Darkness there and nothing more.Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—

Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”

Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

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The Raven

BY EDGAR ALLAN POE

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—

Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—

This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—

Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”

Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted—nevermore!

That's nice

[whatthecrowtold]

"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

    While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—

            Only this and nothing more.”

    Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

    Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

    From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

            Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

    So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

    “’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—

            This it is and nothing more.”

    Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

    But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

    And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—

            Darkness there and nothing more.

    Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

    But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

    And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—

            Darkness there and nothing more.

    Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

    But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

    And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—

            Merely this and nothing more.

    Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

    “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

      Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

            ’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

    Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

    But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—

            Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

    For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

    Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

            With such name as “Nevermore.”

    But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

    Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—

    Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”

            Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store

    Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

    Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

            Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

    But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;

    Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

    Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

            Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

    This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

    On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

    Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

    “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

    Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”

            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

    Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

    On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”

            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

    “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—

    Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

    It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”

            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

    Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

    Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”

            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

    And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

    And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

    And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

            Shall be lifted—nevermore!"

All artworks above are from James Carling’s series of illustrations for Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven” from the early 1870s. Carling, then 23, started his career as a pavement artist in Liverpool, went to America and entered a “Harper’s Magazine” illustration competition for Poe’s poem. Without success, alas, but he left us with some of the most fancifully dark and weird and almost timeless takes on an icon of dark poetry.

Richmond’s Virginian Edgar Allan Poe Museum preserved and currently exhibits the whole series of Carling’s illustrations – and can be acquired below, along with highly engaging background information on Poe, the poem and the artist.

[saulgoodmanofficial]

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—

Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—

This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—

Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”

Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted—nevermore!