#— iv. verse. ✧ ﹂SILVER SNOW.﹁ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eprobles · 1 year

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ETERNAL ECHOES

Toward dark blue skies, endlessly, Where topaz seas shimmer bright, In your evening, blooms ecstasy - The lilies, pills of pure delight.

In our age where plants must toil, Lilies drink blue distaste divine, From your religious prose, they'll coil, Fleur-de-lys, for bards to twine.

Lilies, lilies, none in view, Yet in your verse, sleeves of sin, Soft-footed women, pure as dew, White flowers shiver within.

Always, dear man, when you bathe, Your shirt with yellow 'neath your arm, Swelling in the breeze, and wave, Above forget-me-nots, the harm.

Love comes to you in lilac's guise, Wild violets too, nymphs' delight, Sugary spittle on lips, belies, Dark passions on a moonlit night.

Oh, Poets, imagine you possessed Roses, crimson Roses, blooming bright, Adorning laurel stems, at their best, With thousand octaves swelling in delight!

If Banville could make them snow, Tainted red, swirling, in a frenzy, Blackening the eyes of those who show Ill-disposed interpretations, not friendly!

In your forests and in meadows so calm, Oh, peaceful photographers, Flora thrives, Decanters' stoppers no different in charm, Than varied veggies with cross-grained lives!

Phthisical and absurd, they seem to be, Navigated by basset-hounds at dusk, After frightening drawings we see, Of lotuses or sunflowers blue, so brusque!

Pink prints and holy pictures we behold, For young girls making their communion, Asoka Ode agrees with Loretto's window old, Heavy vivid butterflies dung on daisy's union!

Old greenery and galloons, fancy-flowers, Vegetable biscuits of yore's drawing-rooms, For cockchafers, not rattlesnakes, like powers, Pulling vegetable dolls with colors, like in cartoons!

Grandville would have put them round the margins, To suck in colors from ill-natured stars, Drooling from your shepherd's pipes, in wondrous fashions, Creating priceless glucoses, like fried eggs in hold hats, so bizarre!

Lilies, Asokas, lilacs, and roses, in a pile, Inspirations for poets, like me, all the while!

III

white Hunter, running sockingless Across the panic Pastures, Can you not, ought you not To know your botany a little? I'm afraid you'd make succeed, To russet Crickets, Cantharides, And Rio golds to blues of Rhine, - In short, to Norways, Floridas: But, My dear Chap, Art does not consist now, - it's the truth, - in allowing To the astonishing Eucalyptus boa-constrictors a hexameter long; There now!... As if Mahogany Served only, even in our Guianas, As helter-skelters for monkeys, Among the heavy vertigo of the lianas! - In short, is a Flower, Rosemary Or Lily, dead or alive, worth The excrement of one sea-bird? Is it worth a solitary candle-drip? - And I mean what I say! You, even sitting over there, in a Bamboo hut, - with the shutters Closed, and brown Persian rugs for hangings, - You would scrawl blossoms Worthy of extravagant Oise!... - Poet ! these are reasonnings No less absurd than arrogant!...

Speak not of pampas in the spring, Black with terrible revolts and strife, But of tobacco, cotton trees that sing, Exotic harvests, a fruitful life.

Say, white face, tanned by Phoebus' rays, How many dollars Pedro Velasquez earns, Of Habana, a city that displays, Excrement covering Sorrento's seas in turns.

Where swans go in thousands to roam, Let your lines campaign, oh poet bold, For clearing mangrove swamps, a home To pools and water-snakes so cold.

Your quatrain plunges into bloody thickets, And returns with subjects great and grand, White sugar, bronchial lozenges, and rubbers, tickets To the land of plenty, a fruitful land.

Tell us, oh hunter, if the yellownesses Of snow peaks near the tropics, hide Insects that lay many eggs or microscopic lichens, And scented madder plants, two or three, provide.

Nature in trousers may cause them to bloom, For our armies, strong and brave, On the outskirts of the Sleeping Wood, assume Flowers, with snouts, drip golden pomades on buffaloes' cave.

Find in wild meadows, where the bluegrass shivers, The silver of downy growths, Calyxes full of fiery eggs, livers Cooking among the essential oils.

Find downy thistles whose wool, Ten asses with glaring eyes, labor to spin, Flowers that are chairs, a beautiful tool, And gem-like tonsils close to pale ovaries within.

Find flowers in coal-black seams, Almost like stones, so marvelous and bright, Close to their hard pale ovaries in dreams, Bearing gemlike tonsils, shining in light.

Serve us, oh stuffer, on a vermilion plate, Stews of syrupy lilies, a delicacy divine, To corrode our German-silver spoons, a fate Worthy of kings, in a color so fine.

:: 03.06.2023 ::

Poet's Notes:

Firstly, analyzing the poem from the perspective of a poet, I would observe that it is a complex piece with vibrant language and a robust structure. The thematic clusters around nature, colors, and the exploration of human passions are presented with a combination of ordinary and extraordinary imagery. The author makes use of creative metaphorical devices, intertwining nature and human experiences in a unique way.

The piece exhibits a considerable degree of intertextuality, referencing multiple literary figures and creations, which enriches the reading experience by providing additional layers of meaning. The poem also appears to take a critical look at artistic endeavors and societal expectations, seen in lines like "Phthisical and absurd, they seem to be."

Furthermore, the author creates juxtapositions between beautiful, appealing images and harsh, distasteful ones. This could be interpreted as a commentary on the paradoxes of life, with its mixture of pleasure and pain, beauty and ugliness.

From a Jungian perspective, this poem could be analyzed using the concepts of the collective unconscious and archetypes. Many of the images used - like lilies, roses, the evening, moonlit night, hunters - can be seen as archetypal symbols that resonate with universal human experiences.

The poem explores the interplay between the conscious and the unconscious mind. For instance, the verse "Dark passions on a moonlit night" could be read as an acknowledgment of the shadow archetype, the darker, unconscious aspects of the personality that are often repressed.

Moreover, the poem explores the dichotomy between order and chaos, symbolized by the cultivated flowers and the wild forest. This dichotomy could be seen as a representation of the tension between the ego and the unconscious.

The use of botanical metaphors throughout the poem might be seen as a manifestation of the Anima/Animus archetype, representing the feminine principle within the masculine unconscious, or vice versa. The presence of female figures such as nymphs and "Soft-footed women, pure as dew" would support this interpretation.

Finally, the closing lines of the poem, with the "corrode our German-silver spoons," suggests an ultimate dissolution or transformation, akin to the Jungian process of individuation, where one achieves a harmonious balance between all aspects of the psyche.

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libidomechanica · 1 year

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And so that arts for her neglected

A limerick sequence

Verse I

And so that art’s for her neglected. The eye: let they do not care sweet. My best pleasure. Through her Sleeve; or hastily rising against the heat of some few favour.

Verse II

On burdened sometime she floods drown his hearken to my cryes. You can tell me where I met you can hold on her lot. Can you were wont to grammer shape of your substance.

Verse III

And trembled. Alas, if you ain’t watched by the mind that sings: for nothing else to me. And human face … such heauen-stuffe to trace each seam gleams are eerie; and of your mind.

Verse IV

The fountain or their new hoe. On either night’s star of high heaven mix forever. Thus by it troubadour in search of frame, auise them spred a good at? Where with stars.

Verse V

Now clean but slip frae my mammy yet. For stars, those party to the heavy sky over answer ran, and my love, that, where Love, but i just a trickling roguish een.

Verse VI

This house, and morning, laughing thee a gloria victi. Had fall that is lord and much more praise is a water, warmth-given, and yet what gently even love them?

Verse VII

But see, known a screech owl to me. Her song of that thou’t love always snow she sees the sill and crossing against me out of beasts, vegetables in one wexen wider.

Verse VIII

No whit behint the waves rolling, they sing, but each evening. Who, will woodes bearest bands untwining? ’Tis na love a little ways. Puree, our eyes are listles sowed!

Verse IX

Though some untrue. The floor that she makes me sin awards gladde with great song shepherd, in the stood and ruddy, then me? When will soone ease me oft to leaves tipped by thy best!

Verse X

The window’d hear it. Its first spoken for a day, venus skies and laughter! Her hair. Face it may augment. Will I love to my hear me, now I thoughts and can return.

Verse XI

Ah, ah, ah! She had in her web she world away something is awake my heart is merry hae I behold, that payned, to have too many-tower’d Camelot.

Verse XII

This was he? The night, minstrel, abbot on an ocean, and along your yrksome yellow woods. That is born. Her for wings grandame Nature is as a clothe thing bloudie pain.

Verse XIII

On which thy hand by no other’s hand: and, when we met, jumping from his capricious hand of chess won’t done so, then would put underlids uplift, would not her shining?

Verse XIV

Where the mirror cleaues the chariots. But to faint! At they grief or with final retort have I not a turtle is as this is I, that’s sweeps. The rest. He was cold.

Verse XV

In a dreamed I was grave! I have done: mine eyes, stellar, we will drive all the greefe I dye, hey ho gray walls on the running Painter with no state be enviable.

Verse XVI

When being so long have look into that payne, and the tree, and all its dreamed I was your soul loves are cedar. That he find that leave my Delight; an’ she home again!

Verse XVII

I drop scent, the lips through—fire I cared forest born idiot’s, whose approach the Sisters breast to sights, for priefe. When Cloe noted her; yea, he is, voyd: and into thee.

Verse XVIII

About their Feet, she laid in our lips at him like two skeletons. Come without number where by side, leg overhead, we are a door, and through my obedience.

Verse XIX

Its hands which burns the summer, the glyder, that I by verse, my bird! Blythe inside, leg over Endymion’s strength forthright, where I lingered day when the south; blow the sun.

Verse XX

Though they speak. That Arm in Arm from his capricious hands her eyes. Depart from the hedge to me already five bar and if rymes with my beloved me leaves flashed.

Verse XXI

That we used to gather; for if it would admit. High and play. Which with his weigh, for a woman tis not to be before we parts mighty silver-shoed pale silver.

Verse XXII

Turn thy coatie, my love; behold his right— quick-changes and churchmen that liv’st but she can. Sang of mine but it is well of shame which in my epitaph a Poets name.

Verse XXIII

And draws thro’ the light, so loue, but are twine a musky Chain, that which burnt roundle neuer the boy’s palms tip toward light. Like a roe or a stone nor my finger ever.

Verse XXIV

That man has made, and to-day, oppress’d? Werther hair; lure of the Darkness at my arms, had it any been but mine eyes of the urge to her husband Jove, but in One.

Verse XXV

Give me to I was a desperate shot. Sets down to Camelot, the first Desire my Fall! On the shall soone ease me the night. What would light, vpon this of blood buy!

Verse XXVI

And bite back to the Ground. You stood, the valleys. The wanted to costume. In all the mass of his broad clear; and heretofore: he whose beautiful cries of purity.

Verse XXVII

The death a most true beauty grownde did starting her darlings! I dreams are fond eyes could never love you say you leapt some palace of thine? How begot, how oft soe’er them.

Verse XXVIII

To teach us how for young, I’m o’er young—sometimes in the shifts and I was ’ware, so long been to me? Sweet, I had rather, there with a wanton burnish’d hooves his deede.

Verse XXIX

Wide as a raven. I never hold, thy priests, lovers will I pray you, thou ever chanted loudly roar, how can Bagpipe, that’s absent, but that he finger on earth.

Verse XXX

The budding on it, best pleasure have please that spoil his moment is thee! Twas but add, jenny kiss that grows, sighing to upheave the Love, I tell my stupidity.

Verse XXXI

Wearing its grow, which on thrives; eschylus’ pen Willye his am’rous care. When bedded in sleep to correction no bitten into your flower enjoys the grossly dyed.

Verse XXXII

Here Iram Garden of flowers, washed up. As if God’s future done that can you see her abide by side, O sweet in case we coupled, so deep, dear Love, you will bee.

Verse XXXIII

And fall of pleasaunt spring. With roses and man’s the clefts of the clear; and thy love, for thee that smells, if not fair; thou this wife not sought me. He made when we do cry.

Verse XXXIV

An image picture of the villages, an abbot on an ocean, and thriftless breathe; but little he is gone, from Gaeta:— Shot.—Of the hedge to my mother’s fate!

Verse XXXV

To find him; I called townes do worke my loves and kiss the first louing stars go over suddenly grown serene of the lilies. And fulsome Pleasure by waters, poems!

Verse XXXVI

When I climbed higher beauties shining streams and old, but the death I bought, hey ho bonilasse, she saw the hushed my number. And puts out of fiery mighty men.

Verse XXXVII

Her breast. Sweets into my gain, the blue unclouded weathers viewing, to base the smell of those weake confirme: for ere she real rain, upon sockets of thy gay smiles brows.

Verse XXXVIII

Gambler throwing-distant land, my Queene. Adam, from fair to make him from suspicion, discontents on a velvet cheek toward man, that art can a woman is not blame.

Verse XXXIX

Yet I was long: and Viva l’ Italia! Wear the flowers your wrist is just a trifle more than public means while loud an’ she hasp of the shepherd’s-purse, blessed her.

Verse XL

She tells augment. And woman’s field, this forenoons driving waved that least, and dig deep into that come in forests. Till a’ the step my head and my love, to an end.

Verse XLI

Wit or with your misgiving Love speak? She has ears: sighs, and come in forests, long since the sun itself aloft, and to gather; and said: Thou art fair, my beloved.

Verse XLII

The hills. And strife, and in a woman becoming to the base of the seas between dreamed that loose that is it doth embrac’d, and dig deep recesses of frankincense.

Verse XLIII

The watching pad, somewhere the low sky raining on its good ointments do suggest light glow’d; on burden of this. On spirits thorns with Himself through through the seams the night.

Verse XLIV

For grammer who thine head she has twa sparkling roguish een. The lions’ dens, the city found favour or deformed’st creature is stronger to mine eyes were shades.

Verse XLV

If you a wreath’d trees look down the mind spills through the shepherd’s whistling into the Dambe. That hid I’m, you this house. Hast thou pleasing the lang! Of Indies would by other.

Verse XLVI

If such Diana stung! All in the care of what unusual heats, fainting lover’s time, you do not me? Come to the death crashing the topaz, opal, calcedon.

Verse XLVII

Tell me, O thou go wi’ motion make a sounds soothing somewhere, each puree, our glad and be together under hearts slave: blest be than you hurt her? Her waist, and I!

Verse XLVIII

For delight, The lonely as a straint,— one look’dst through all the lamp you can say and dry down she washing shade, while I run repetition! From whose beauty’s force in tracks?

Verse XLIX

Impassion make all folkes prest at the awake my own line, having sate; till in the wood, ye’re like purple; the keepe the left a bowl. To those weake confirme: for they stay.

Verse L

Mine eye that is lord and my hand in a Kirtle of this is no spot in nature escapes, were angry with awfull eyes, stella loue. Till my tongue, I saw the sky.

Verse LI

Of thine? The convulsive rapture all mark you for your black men waiting, and whoever in charactery, hold like the clicking souls strange in zero gravity.

Verse LII

What is bounding to use the weltering her the range bargain ye wad buy; but light. Made of the leaves clasped between the sternest movement broken so as foes commend.

Verse LIII

And night I cuddle my hart. Three more and pants as light. Ran up to the low sky raining, and blood to prevent wi’ mony a sin to tak me from me, for my sling.

Verse LIV

Sicker sike a crawl If you silent nigheth fast, how nourished? Which is complexion’d stars there shut up, a fountains, and I assure ye even the brighter near death.

Verse LV

Shall I ne’er declared in the changes like Lords whose joys of early, enshaded in Secresy blowing in dropping upon you. But kinda like there was perished?

Verse LVI

Me, both part of those that. You heard, twise them, and true, who has twa sparkling roguish een. I left hand of Absence been from off its little green sits no more;—Farewell!

Verse LVII

No fault of our margin’d rills. But sicke- bed lies sweets its thick eyelids at twenty, my laddie’s sapphires. I scatter on paths perilous; but in the view, the sons.

Verse LVIII

Shutting each other breast and yet the melodie The long-stemmed plants; each bending sight and the sun in flight. Of sands and find no more as I stood by her with hands before.

Verse LIX

Built her chant in the truth, take or lost? Their first to thy flow out, and never swell? Why show, that leave of chess won’t attack us here could not comets, we are slight move.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #173 texts #limerick sequence

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z-cerulean · 2 years

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2021 Media Thread Summary (Started May 2021)

Played: - Persona 5 Strikers - Mega Man 1 - Fire Emblem Gaiden - Mega Man 5 - Mega Man 8 - Mega Man 11 - Ys Seven - Phoenix Wright Ace Attorney: Justice for All - Shin Megami Tensei III: Nocturne HD Remaster (Switch) - Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony - Sonic CD - Persona 5: Dancing in Starlight - Persona 3: Dancing in Moonlight - Persona 4: Dancing All Night - Mega Man: Maverick Hunter X (X Mode & Vile Mode) - Shin Megami Tensei: Persona (PSP) (SEBEC & Snow Queen routes) - 100% Orange Juice - Mario Party Superstars - Etrian Odyssey IV (Main Story)

Watched: - Castlevania (Netflix) Season 4 - Rick and Morty (Season 1-4) (rewatch) - The Mandalorian - Marvel Studios' Black Widow - Star Wars: The Force Awakens (rewatch) - Marvel Studios' Loki - Star Wars: The Last Jedi - Star Wars: Rise of Skywalker - Puella Magi Madoka Magica - Iron Man 1 (2008) (rewatch) - Iron Man 2 (2010) (rewatch) - The Incredible Hulk (2008) - X-Men (2000) - X2 (2003) - X-Men: The Last Stand (2006) (rewatch) - X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009) - X-Men: First Class (2011) - The Wolverine (2013) - X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - X-Men: Apocalypse (2016) - X-Men: Dark Phoenix (2019) - Logan (2017) - The Suicide Squad (2021) - Spider-Man (2002) - Marvel Studios' What If..? (2021) - Spider-Man 2 (2004) - Spider-Man 3 (2007) - Fantastic Four (2005) - The Amazing Spider-Man (2012) - The Amazing Spider-Man 2 (2014) - Marvel Studios' Shang Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings (2021) - Deadpool (2016) - Deadpool 2 (2018) - Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer (2007) - Fantastic Four (2015) - Free Guy (2021) - Squid Game (2021) - Marvel Studios' Eternals (2021) - Dinosaur (2000) - Robots (2005) - Marvel Studios' Hawkeye (2021) - Bill and Ted Face the Music (2020) - Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse (2018)

Read: - Chainsaw Man (Part 1, Ch1-97)

#media thread

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strawberryybird · 3 years

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tonight’s awful 2am post is me looping fall out boy’s centuries and thinking about how fe16 doesn’t give us a golden route. im writing songfic in my head don’t even look at me. i will explain myself in the tags because i think my mentally composed songfic should be taken as a biohazard.

#i need to express that this post has been sitting in my drafts since NOVEMBER 2019 #birb says what //#a) i have a 9am class fuck me up #b) ive been listening to fob exclusively for a week and my friend has texted me in concern over it #SO CENTURIES HUH #have we all seen that one 3H animatic on yt using that one emotional song from dear evan hansen? good. that.#that's the vibe.#so the first verse? that's just pure edelgard baybee... im talking that shell of a personality she crafted and put on like her armor #silver snow's possible 'kids are all wrong the story's all off'#heavy metal broke my *bone weapon click clack* HEART #edelgard or byleth??? Hmmm???#im getting second hand embarrassment from my own fucking writing oh god someone take me out back and shut me UP #'i never meant for you to fix yourself' can i get a hegemon edelgard??? can i see her??? i'm telling you im going for a thing here #verse 2: dimitri boogaloo #now i don't go to the dimitri stomping ground yet.. it wont stop me #maybe this verse it literally maybe it's abt the dimitri in my headcanon that wants to prove himself worthy of being alive #who's the cherry blossom? who's to say. i like to think its dedue. once again this is the unfiltered nonsence from my head #the bridge? oh that's about the VW nemesis fight baybeeeee #'where's claude's dramatic lyrics' THE DEERS ARE THE CHORUS #u know that guy with the mail room wall conspiracy theory meme. this is me. this is my that #'poisoned youth' i took those little deers with their hobbies and their non-war lives and made them soldiers.#ok thats enough from me #at any given moment on public transport im thinking abt this #dont even look at me

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bk-poetry · 2 years

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The Dangers of Kimberleigh

“Love Jo all your days, if you choose, but don't let it spoil you, for it's wicked to throw away so many good gifts because you can't have the one you want.” ― Louisa May Alcott, "Little Women" I. When the morning demands you and I— our ghosts shall pass empty resides, Against fields where lines opposing light, force and bind— of Angel's breath and Dæmon's spine. Of shrieks louder than their first meeting's kiss— residing now—perfection upon midnight's bliss, Abiding near the tender gardens upon the blinding dark— creating haste of love-song made by grave Skylark. Who in joyous play—should cause collapse—

towards serene, augmented lapse. Lapse of falling, of where gentle screams— of every child that's ever been, Who stroke themselves against empty glass— and where visions pray upon the grasp, Of wind—Of blinding—Of melody— to hold faint—Immortality

II. This shall be where morning seeks— no longer calming of beauty's cheek. Instead to lash with vain and hostile mount— crimson over dashed and harsh doubt. Until image engraved by forgiving rite— speaking neglect of fiend or fiendish blight. In-versed—coole angelic heart to passéd— passage beside Lilac's memory in mortal castéd. In the unwashed Earth, where the unwashed play— 'till they unfairly capture it from younglings— Away. Lonesomeness of watchtowers in gossamer's breast— when airy words strangled from bless. Reachéd by the hand—abide in fable— quiet tho—in fruition, a single silver Maple. Shyly envisioned inside salvation's solitude— where tenderness drowns tenderéd concludes.

III. The sister was lovely—inside my sight— in our union—created Nature's first night. Through our throats rendered fragile lullaby— which slaughtered silence and made soldiers cry. Her bristles—exploit in darkness—I could not see— or merely recollect in memory. A mouth moving inside of mine— creatures in mawkery of untouched divine. Eyes whom beatéd harder than the breeze— to remind me—gently of the ease. Of being caught in cognitive stance. which leaves surrender to in traditional, disciplined dance. Upon the backs of universal forestry— and inside their stomachs to where we would meet. Offended to death by requiem— made inside our faint dream's drum.

IV. Where dreamer's would lash upon in endless screams— innumerable Rubies ruin'd before their first gleam. Upon reflection in lover's loss— diminished to demise before their first gloss. It is upon the fool's finest end— where lies his fantasy—condemned. The jester who remains as undefeat— before death shall cause lacklustre retreat. Unaware tho, in current mode— as body by body closely will hold. And messages of Gold conspire in streaks— immersed—affection in mind eternally correlates oblique. Ringing and humming throughout what laid— against blonde grass from Sin was made. Refraction's cast that betrayed—to promise me— endless nights of haunting harmonies.

V. Held tightly in grieving borne— broken—in new blood is sworn. Across the snow-cover'd Evergreens— where the temptress grave is left unseen. Not upon her kiss—did darkness fall— alone—in shining pieces did crawl, Against creator—and thus creator hence— bitter loving shrouded by bare defense. As her finite skin had laid eternal flesh— of what laid inside Pine's parting mesh. Holding and crying out for uncertainty— feelings moaned into sudden Mercenaries.

Morose and fledgling in their stand— spiritéd to Death's light misunderstand, Of peerless eyes and broken brooks by the sea— casting ruined cloth over our Evergreens.

VI. Unfurnished dawn may scour for length of furnished night— quick—until mirroréd ebbed ocean does wrong. To consume the idles of Man's afraid mind— fairest—lest His idles struck into divine. Exclaiméd none tho, in archaic lust— deceased—firmest in high robust. Where pleasure finds comforted pause— inside arched-back in neglected cause. Betray the shallow grimace flee— and ethereal composed by the breeze. Lies delicate delusion before sorrow— that shall thieve away the Artist's morrow.

And in thievery is where the Angels lie— angelic beasts with unlawful guise, In courts—castrated by the throat— hardened in assumption by blackened elope.

#poetry #spilled ink #writeblr #poets on tumblr #collection: Juvenilia

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andromeda3116 · 3 years

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so like i said i would do no more explaining but i was kinda jokey with that post when actually no i legit did put thought and purpose into this kanej playlist, so here’s a breakdown of the songs on it and which lyric(s)/to whom it applies. some of them, again, are more about the general vibe, but mostly there’s like. an actual reason i picked these songs.

kaz.

o. (not on spotify) the sewers belch me up, the heavens spit me out, from ethers tragic i am born again. [...] is it bright where you are? have the people changed? does it make you happy you're so strange? and in your darkest hour, i hold secrets' flame. you can watch the world devoured in its pain. --the end is the beginning is the end

i. god money, i’ll do anything for you. god money, just tell me what you want me to. god money, nail me up against the wall. god money, don't want everything, he wants it all. no, you can’t take it, no you can't take it, no, you can’t take that away from me. head like a hole, black as your soul, i'd rather die than give you control. bow down before the one you serve, you’re going to get what you deserve.

ii. there’s a shadow just behind me, shrouding every step i take, making every promise empty, pointing every finger at me. [...] i am just a worthless liar, i am just an imbecile. i will only complicate you. trust in me and fall as well. [...] why can we not be sober, i just want to start this over.

iii. i’d walk to you through rings of fire, and never let you know the way i feel. under skin is where i hide the love that always gets me on my knees. [...] i want it now, i want it now. don’t tell me that my ship is coming in. --nothing lasts forever

iv. one: take control of me, you’re messing with the enemy. said it’s two: it’s another trick, you’re messing with my mind. [...] there it goes again, take me to the edge again. all i got is a dirty trick, i’m chasing down the wolves to save you. i tell you i want you, i tell you i need you. the blood on my face, i just wanted you near me. --club foot

v. don’t waste your touch, you won’t feel anything. or were you sent to save me? i’ve thought too much, you won’t find anything worthy of redeeming. [...] reach out and you may take my heart away. --the leaving song, part two

vi. while i waited, i was wasting away, hope was wasting away, faith was wasting away, i was wasting away. [...] inside a crumbling effigy, but you promised. so dies all innocence, but you promised me. --the great disappointment

vii. welcome to the end of eras, ice has melted back to life, done my time and served my sentence, dress me up and watch me die. if it feels good, tastes good, it must be mine. dynasty decapitated, you just might see a ghost tonight. [...] the crown. so close i could taste it, i see what’s mine and take it. --the emperor’s new clothes

viii. all my friends were glorious, tonight we are victorious. [...] i’m a killing spree in white, eyes like broken christmas lights. my touch is black and poisonous. [...] throw the bait, catch the shark, bleed the water red. fifty words for murder, and i’m every one of them.

ix. just like romantic verses, just like a joyous end, just like a memory, it twists me. you land as lightly as the new snow onto the melting boy. you land as gently, you’re so cinematic, bathed in your radiance, i melt. --this celluloid dream

x. i’ll describe the way i feel: weeping wounds that never heal. can this savior be for real, or are you just my seventh seal? no hesitation, no delay, you come on just like special k, now you’re back, the dope demand, i’m on sinking sand. [...] i’ll describe the way i feel: you’re my new achilles heel.

xi. i choose to live and to grow, take and give and to move, learn and love and to cry, kill and die and to be paranoid and to lie, hate and fear and to do what it takes to move through. i choose to live and to lie, kill and give and to die, learn and love and to do what it takes to step through. [...] i’ve been crawling on my belly, clearing out what could have been. --forty-six and two

xii. do you listen to yourself? never live for someone else. do you like the way you feel? nothing hurts when no one’s real. [...] i wanna bullet-proof your soul, would you like to lose control? i won’t let you fall until you tell me so. [...] should have listened when you called my name.

xiii. you have forsaken all the love you’ve taken, sleeping on a razor, there’s nowhere left to fall. your body’s aching, every bone is breaking, nothing seems to shake it, it just keeps holding on. [...] i thread the needle through, you beat the devil’s tattoo.

xiv. i’m insane, but on my toes. i can keep the world balanced on my nose. i had a slumber party with all my foes, now i wear ‘em like a badge of honor on my clothes. if i’m crazy, i’m on my own. if i’m waiting, it’s on my throne. [...] can’t stop me now, i said i got you now. i’m right here at your door, i won’t leave, i want more. --what’s up, danger?

xv. the world is a vampire sent to drain, secret destroyers hold you up to the flames. and what do i get for my pain? betrayed desires and a piece of the game. [...] despite all my rage, i am still just a rat in a cage. --bullet with butterfly wings

xvi. can’t you see i’m sorry? i will make it worth your while. i’m made of dead men’s money, you can see it in my smile. oh, lazarus, how did your debt get paid? [...] when the fires, when the fires are consuming you, and your sacred stars won’t be guiding you, i’ve got blood, i’ve got blood on my name.

xvii. “oh don’t talk of love,” the shadows purr, murmuring me away from you. “don’t talk of worlds that never were, the end is all that’s ever true.” [...] every night i burn, every night i scream your name.

xviii. my heart’s a tart, your body’s rent, my body’s broken, yours is bent. carve your name into my arm, instead of stressed, i lie here charmed. [...] like the naked leads the blind, i know i’m selfish, i’m unkind. sucker love, i always find someone to bruise and leave behind. --every you, every me

xix. it don’t matter, i won’t do what you say. you’ve got the money and the power, i won’t go your way. i can’t take for the people, they don’t matter at all. i’ll be waiting in the shadows, until the day that you fall. [...] kill me if you dare, hold my head up everywhere. --underdog

inej.

i. i’m a princess cut from marble, smoother than a storm, and the scars that mark my body, they’re silver and gold. my blood is a flood of rubies, precious stones, it keeps my veins hot, the fire’s found a home in me. [...] and i’m locking up everyone who ever laid a finger on me. i’m done with it, oh, this is the start of how it all ends. --yellow flicker beat

ii. just how deep do you believe? will you bite the hand that feeds? will you chew until it bleeds? can you get up off your knees? are you brave enough to see? do you wanna change it?

iii. i know it’s a lie, i want it to be true. the rest of the ride is riding on you. [...] wishing you could keep me closer, i’m a lazy dancer, when you move i move with you. --collect call

iv. don’t look ahead, there’s stormy weather, another roadblock in our way. but if we go, we go together, our hands are tied here if we stay. oh, we said our dreams would carry us and if they don’t fly, we will run. now we push right past to find out how to win what they all lost. oh, we know that we want more, oh, the life we’re fighting for. [...] there are no rules that we can’t break. --disparate youth

v. as i move my feet towards your body, i can hear this beat, it fills my head up and gets louder and louder. i run to the river and dive straight in. i pray that the water will drown out the din. [...] there’s a drumming noise inside my head and it starts when you’re around. --drumming song

vi. shoot me down, but i get up. i’m bulletproof, nothing to lose. fire away, fire away. ricochet, you take your aim. fire away, fire away. shoot me down, but i won’t fall, i am titanium.

vii. you’ve been walking, you’ve been hiding, and you look half-dead half the time. monitoring you, like machines do, you’ve still got it, i’m just keeping an eye. you say too late to start, with your heart in a headlock. i don’t believe any of it.

viii. i’m in need of a savior, but i’m not asking for favors. my whole life i’ve felt like a burden, i think too much and i hate it. i’m so used to being in the wrong, i’m tired of caring. loving never gave me a home, so i’ll sit here in the silence. i found peace in your violence, can’t tell me there’s no point in trying. i’m at one, and i’ve been quiet for too long.

ix. i am running, i will meet you halfway. when i get there, will you be waiting for me? and i’m scared that you don’t feel the same. and after all, just how much can i take? heaven help me, i think i’m in love, i’m all in love with you. ‘cause i can’t help myself, i’m falling down, i’m falling hard for you.

x. i never promised you an open heart or charity, i never wanted to abuse your imagination. i come with knives, i come with knives and agony to love you.

xi. stooped down and out, you got me beggin’ for thread to sew this hole up that you ripped it my head. stupidly think you had it under control. strapped down to something you don’t understand, don’t know what you were getting yourself into. you should have known, secretly i think you knew.

xii. go row the boat to safer grounds, but don’t you know? we’re stronger now. my heart still beats, and my skin still feels. my lungs still breathe, my mind still fears. but we’re running out of time, all the echoes in my mind cry. there’s blood on your lies, the scars open wide. there is nowhere for you to hide, the hunter’s moon is shining. i’m running with the wolves tonight.

xiii. a falling star fell from your heart and landed in my eyes. i screamed aloud as it tore through them and now it’s left me blind. the stars, the moon, they have all been blown out, you’ve left me in the dark. no dawn, no day, i’m always in this twilight, in the shadow of your heart. [...] i took the stars from my eyes and then i made a map, i knew that somehow i could find the way back. then i heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness, too. so i stayed in the darkness with you. --cosmic love

both/and.

i. shed a tear for each soul set free, but that’s what happens when you dance with me. pity the man who stands in my way, i’m a nightmare even in the day. i’d be wise with which words you say, ‘cause they could be the last breath you take. [...] call me a criminal, maybe, baby, i’m an outlaw. you know, i ain’t evil but i ain’t a saint.

ii. it’s my own design, it’s my own remorse. help me to decide. help me make the most of freedom, and of pleasure. nothing ever lasts forever. everybody wants to rule the world. there’s a room where the light won’t find you, holding hands while the walls come tumbling down. when they do i’ll be right behind you.

iii. i know you’ve suffered, but i don’t want you to hide. [...] i want to reconcile the violence in your heart, i want to recognize your beauty’s not just a mask. i want to exorcise the demons from your past. i want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart.

iv. you mean that much to me and it’s hard to show. gets hectic inside of me when you go. can i confess these things to you? well, i don’t know. embedded in my chest and it hurts to hold. i couldn’t spill my heart, my eyes gleam looking in from the dark. i walk out in stormy weather, hold my words, keep us together. steady walking but bound to trip, should release but just tighten my grip. night time, sympathize, i’ve been working on white lies. so i’ll tell the truth.

v. i, i came here in day, but i left here in darkness and found you, found you on the way. [...] your sins into me, oh my beautiful one. --silver and cold

vi. you wanna make me bad, make me bad. you wanna pay me back, pay me back. baby, it’s violence, violence. [...] but i like it like that.

vii. hey, baby, can you bleed like me? oh, come on baby, can you bleed like me? you should see my scars.

viii. i’m giving you a night call, to tell you how i feel. i’m gonna show you where it’s dark but have no fear. [...] there’s something inside you, it’s hard to explain. they’re talking about you, boy, but you’re still the same.

ix. you don’t wanna hurt me, but see how deep the bullet lies. unaware that i’m tearing you asunder, and there’s a thunder in our hearts, baby. so much hate for the ones we love, tell me we both matter, don’t we? [...] come on baby, come on, come on darling, let me steal this moment from you now. --running up that hill

x. feel my heart burning, deep inside, yearning. i know it is coming. a fettered heart, waking. tainted youth, fading. leave it all behind. delirious again, mesmerize my senses, souls entwine one more time.

xi. there is love in your body but you can’t get it out, it gets stuck in your head, won’t come out of your mouth. sticks to your tongue and it shows on your face, that the sweetest of words have the bitterest taste. darling heart, i loved you from the start, but you'll never know what a fool i have been. darling heart, i loved you from the start, but that’s no excuse for the state i am in. --hardest of hearts

xii. it’s fire, it’s freedom, it’s flooding open. it’s the preacher and the pulpit and your blind devotion. there’s something breaking at the brick of every wall, it’s holding all that you know. so tell me do you wanna go? where it’s covered in all the colored lights, where the runaways are running the nights. impossible comes true, it’s taking over you. [...] where the lost get found and we crown ‘em the circus king. --the greatest show

xiii. but if you’re troubled and hurt, what you got under your shirt will make them pay for the things they did. they said now, teenagers scare the living shit out of me. they could care less, as long as someone will bleed. so darken your clothes and strike a violent pose, maybe they’ll leave you alone, but not me.

xiv. we are ready for the siege, we are armed up to the teeth. be careful how you live and breathe, release what’s broken underneath. how many times do you wanna die? how many ways do you wanna die? [...] you used to do a little but a little won’t fly, right before you hit your prime. that’s where we fell in love but not the first time. --the royal we

xv. and how can we win, when fools can be kings? don’t waste your time, or time will waste you. no one’s gonna take me alive. the time has come to make things right. you and i must fight for our rights, you and i must fight to survive. --knights of cydonia

xvi. look at me go, look at me high and low, look at me picking myself back up from the underground. i’ve died a few times before, i know what it’s like when i can’t see the light, i find a light of my own. [...] we were born alone, and we die alone. what a way to go, now i’m on my own. but i’m not sorry, no.

xvii. broken people, hollow and feeble, they’re rolling, rolling up the hill. [...] breaking in, in, in my eyes, i can’t see like this. i can’t let go, please help me down, i can’t be like this. --sweet

xviii. prey on the powerful, masters of the game, we run with wolves in the shadows, we chase ‘em down ‘til we’re face to face. [...] it’s in our blood, in our blood, in our veins. this is the world we made.

xix. and our lives are forever changed, we will never be the same. the more you change the less you feel. believe, believe in me. believe, believe that life can change, that you’re not stuck in vain. we’re not the same, we’re different tonight. [...] we’ll make things right, we’ll feel it all tonight. we’ll find a way to offer up the night tonight, the indescribable moments of your life, tonight. the impossible is possible tonight. believe in me as i believe in you, tonight.

#kanej #six of crows #listen i stand by my former statement that modern!kaz would be a *huge* fan of nine inch nails #although i will hear arguments for tool #he'd be into like old-school throwback industrial and goth rock #i mean. the barely-restrained rage of some of that genre? he'd be here for it #modern!inej is more of a fan of it than you'd expect but still not like. going to shows or anything #(she really *feels* the rage anthems)#that said #considering how kaz's memory works you know he gets songs stuck in his head like nobody's business #so anytime he annoys her she starts singing like. mamma mia.#if she's *really* annoyed she'll get the dj at the crow club to play abba albums until he apologizes #entirely against his will kaz knows all the lyrics to abba's entire discography because inej is 100% not going to stop the dancing queen #until he's apologized and she doesn't care how much swedish bubblegum pop she has to listen to #this is the one game he cannot win #once the marimbas start it's over. he has lost. the argument is done. it's just a matter of how long it'll take him to admit it.#inadvertently allowing inej to discover his hatred of abba is up there among the biggest mistakes of his entire life #shit i actually didn't mean to post this but like now that i have i guess here it is?#welp.

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letsreadwomen · 4 years

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kickass women in retold fairy tales (anthologies edition)

in honour of #fairytalefebruary2020 im finally going to do a fairy tale rec list as the twelfth installment in my women in mythologies series. ive been thinking of doing this for a while but never really found a good way in (you guys there is a ridiculous amount of fairy tale retellings out there like whoa). when i was brainstorming rec themes for #fairytalefebruary this one popped into my head though, so we’re going with it!

All books listed had to pass the following criteria:

Be (co-)edited or written by a woman

Majority of included works is written by women

Feature female characters prominently

Retell previously existing tales

I wasn’t able to check that third requirement for all books and i’m sure I’ve missed many books off the below list, so do let me know if you spot an error or have a contribution!

*means i’ve read the collection

Retellings around a theme

Unburied Fables edited by Creative Aces Publishing*

A Wolf At The Door And Other Retold Fairy Tales edited by Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling

Frozen Fairy Tales edited by Kate Wolford

A Thousand Beginnings And Endings edited by Ellen Oh and Elsie Chapman*

Angela Carter’s Book Of Fairytales edited by Angela Carter

Enchanted Forests edited by Katharine Kerr

Retellings by one author

The Bloody Chamber And Other Stories by Angela Carter

The Rose And The Beast: Fairy Tales Retold by Francesca Lia Block

Red As Blood, Or Tales From The Sisters Grimmer by Tanith Lee

Kissing The Witch: Old Tales In New Skins by Emma Donoghue*

Toad Words And Other Stories by T. Kingfisher

Beyond The Briar: A Collection Of Romantic Fairy Tales by Shelley Chappell*

The Door In The Hedge by Robin McKinley

Retellings of one specific tale

Five Glass Slippers | Five Magic Spindles edited by Anna Elisabeth Stengl

Retellings in verse

Poisoned Apples: Poems For You, My Pretty by Christine Heppermann

Snow White Learns Witchcraft: Stories And Poems by Theodora Goss

Fierce Fairytales: Poems And Stories To Stir Your Soul by Nikita Gill

Honourary mentions

Don't Bet On The Prince: Contemporary Feminist Fairy Tales In North America And England edited by Jack Zipes (includes essays and tales)

Snow White, Blood Red | Black Heart, Ivory Bones | Ruby Slippers, Golden Tears | Silver Birch, Blood Moon | Black Swan, White Raven all edited by Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling (mix of retellings and original tales)

The Bread We Eat In Dreams by Catherynne M. Valente (a wide breadth of genres covered by one author)

The Princess Saves Herself In This One | The Witch Doesn’t Burn In This One | The Mermaid’s Voice Returns In This One by Amanda Lovelace (poetry that questions fairy tale themes)*

Further resources

On the merits of fairy tale retellings from a writer’s perspective

Goodreads’ Fairy Tales Retold Anthologies

If you have any suggestions for other anthologies who deserve more attention (and a corresponding book), or which mythology / folklore should definitely be in this series, drop me a line!

(If you like these recommendation lists and would like to support me and my decaf coffee habit, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi. Happy reading!)

#fairytalefebruary2020 #fairytalefebruary #rec: women in mythology #book rec #genre: shorts #genre: fairy tale #my book recs #mine #queue

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tigerdrop · 4 years

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ive been absolutely losing my mind this past week but today i have escaped the thrall of brain demons and i would like to show u a sneak peek of my geralt/jaskier sex pollen fic, Sacrificial Rites. (this part is safe-for-work tho.)

its roughly halfway done but this is all im comfortable sharing right now BYYEeee

It starts when Jaskier hears, in the near distance, something like a cannon firing. Well, if he were to think about it, actually, it starts some time before, in a little spit of a village to the north of the Temerian capital. Theirs is but a humble farming community, and it smells the part, which Jaskier reminds Geralt of. Frequently. But the air’s tinged with the smell of smoke, too, and the snow-dusted trees that knot themselves through the village are adorned with bright, multicolored muslin ribbons. Jaskier thumbs some of them as he passes by. Their coin purses are light, and there’s always something, somewhere, in need of slaying, and when a stream of young girls brushes past them, boughs clustered in their hands like bouquets, Jaskier suspects all he’ll have to do is join in whatever festivities are at hand and he’ll drum up work for them in no time. And by “them”, of course, he means Geralt. But that’s not the part he says out loud. True enough, it takes just one bawdy song about Geralt’s prowess at ghoul-slaying and lady-killing for someone in the local tavern to recognize him. A puffy-eyed man, calls himself something Jaskier can’t parse. Or pronounce. But his coin’s good, and Jaskier’s not yet had occasion to sing about the creature he describes - a cikavac, heavy on the sibilants; a gangling, bird-like thing that’s stealing the milk from their cows and the honey from their hives. Jaskier lets out a laugh. “Really? And what does a great big bird want with cow’s milk, anyway?” “Not for eating,” says the man, tugging at his mustache. His voice has a heavy accent, like the words are punched out of his mouth. “Cikavac works for someone. Maybe in another village, maybe someone here. Takes the milk back to them.” “Glorified theft,” Geralt mutters. “Well, what’s the bird get out of it, then? If it were up to me, I’d rather get to fly around, and sing, and, er, whatever else it is birds get up to. Preening? That sounds nice.” “That’s all you do anyway,” says Geralt, face stony, and he steers Jaskier away from the tavern by his shoulder. They almost bump into a woman and her children just outside. Jaskier shimmies past them, narrowly avoiding trodding on their embroidered skirts. “I’m deeply offended, Geralt,” he laments with a hand over his heart. “I’ll have you know, I’m a man of many skills and talents. Like… Oh! You wouldn’t happen to have any cherries on hand, would you?” “No,” he says, like this is obvious. “More’s the pity. I’ve got this fascinating trick of the tongue, you know. Lets you tie a knot in a cherry stem, no hands necessary. I picked it up from some ladies in Novigrad.” Geralt turns his head back to look at him, eyebrows raised, but doesn’t dignify that with a response. Doesn’t say much the rest of the afternoon, either. All Jaskier can squeeze out of him is a rudimentary description of the thing - gawky, uncomfortably humanoid, and bearing a long, narrow beak with a fleshy pouch where it keeps its spoils. “Like a pelican,” Jaskier supplies helpfully to no one but himself. There are preparations to be made, but Jaskier mostly tunes them out. More interesting is the smoke, growing thicker as they approach the outskirts of the village. Lot of torches for the middle of the day, he thinks, until they resolve themselves as effigies of cloth and straw, bedecked in dried husks and rudimentary skirts to give them the shape of a woman. Jaskier’s mouth closes mid-word. “Oh, that’s alright, then,” he starts up again, “they’re just setting a bunch of little girls on fire. No big deal. And— and then putting them out again. Sure. Seems a little counterproductive!” His voice breaks on the last word, coming out unnaturally loud. A handful of people glance his way. “Don’t be rude,” grunts Geralt. “Not looking to get chased out of town before I get paid.” “Geralt of Rivia, telling me not to be rude? My goodness. I guess I must be rubbing off on you.” Most of the participants gather around a creek that splits the town from the thicket. They cross its shallow waters between a group of boys taking turns to toss their own straw dolls into it. Back to their familiar rites: gathering herbs, laying traps, establishing a stakeout. Jaskier’s gotten quite good at it by now. He sings while he works, mindless things about sad women with lush black hair, so thick you could drown in it. Geralt tells him to knock it off. It only encourages him to give Geralt a winning smile as he cooks up another verse. They’ve got a nice little vantage point where the valley swells up into rolling hills, affording a decent view of the— of the— “Geralt, what’d that alderman call himself?” The witcher looks up from where he’s crushing seeds in a mortar. “Zduhać.” He mouths the word silently, and finds it cumbersome. Of Zduhać’s farmstead, then, where he’s kindly left his prized goat tied up this night for them to use as bait— “It’s a title,” continues Geralt. Jaskier blinks at him, surprised. “Means something like ‘dragon man’.” Of the zduhać’s farmstead, then. Glad they got that sorted out. “So, what, am I to believe that that old man killed a dragon? He didn’t seem much for that kind of thing. A bit too much gout, if you ask me.” “That’s not what it means.” Jaskier waits for a moment, but Geralt just keeps pounding his pestle. “And what, pray tell, does it mean?” he asks at last, as he crosses one leg over the other and rests his hands on his knee. Geralt keeps silent in a way that Jaskier has come to interpret as I don’t know, so don’t ask. Now, they wait. And wait. Geralt keeps his eyes peeled, as sharp as ever, but sometime after the moon rises high in the sky, Jaskier’s fingers stop strumming quite so fast. The air’s balmy and supple, ripe with moisture and the pollen of countless plants unfurling again, and he finds himself nodding off. Jaskier comes to all at once when he hears, in the near distance, something like a cannon firing. He clambers to his feet, against all reason, really, because the last thing he should do is make himself a bigger target for - for whatever that was from. His lantern’s been put out, enveloping the forest in darkness, and he is suddenly aware that he is alone. “Geralt?” he calls out to the trees. His voice warbles in a way he doesn’t like. There’s no response, but he’s sure that sound came from this way. Or maybe it was that way? Jaskier may be no witcher, what with those keen senses and all, but he is clever enough to follow the shuffling and rustling in the trees until he’s sure he isn’t just hearing things. It’s not until he’s well and truly lost track of where he started from that he stumbles through a cluster of flowering bushes, and with it, Geralt. What he should say is something like “Geralt!”, or “Geralt!”, or even “Thank goodness you’re alright!”, but instead what he says is, “Lords have mercy, you’re filthy,” because his eyes have a direct feed to his mouth that bypasses his brain entirely. Geralt’s hunched over and trying in vain to clean his face, covered as he is from head to toe in a translucent, yellowy slime. So is everything else in a ten foot radius. Geralt spits. “No shit.” “What’s— what in the world happened to you?” He steps forward gingerly in an attempt to avoid the mess. “Damned thing. It ate one of my pouches.” Jaskier draws upon his dabbling knowledge of witchery and alchemy to come to the conclusion that something inside it didn’t play nice with the cikavac’s insides. And now its insides appear to be its outsides. “Well, you’re not hurt, are you? Not missing any limbs, from what I can see.” “You’ll put me out of a job with observational skills like those,” says Geralt, unimpressed. He wrings a thick glob out of his hair. All that’s left of the poor beast is its beak, glossy, orange, and befouled with the same stuff. Jaskier lets Geralt pick it up himself. They can’t go back to town looking like this, or at least Geralt can’t, as Jaskier kindly reminds him. There’s a secluded bank downstream from the villagers and their celebrations. It’ll have to do. This, too, is another thing Jaskier’s gotten good at over the years. Scrubbing Geralt clean, that is. He knows which oils to keep on hand to best maintain Geralt’s hair, which salves to apply to all the places Geralt can’t reach, and which temperature Geralt likes the best when they’ve got a choice in the matter. Things that should be degrading. Beneath a man of his stature. ‘Should’ isn’t often found in his vocabulary, however. His fingers knead through Geralt’s hair to coax the last of the slime out of it. It has an odd texture, not unlike a whisked egg, although he’s to understand it’s just a foul mixture of honey, milk, and assorted intestinal fluids. Muscle memory takes over. The rote nature of it quiets a buzzing in him. It’s the same buzz that makes him turn rhymes over in his head, over and over, keeping him from a good night’s sleep unless he’s worn out or fucked out. Hence his predilection for the finer things in life - wine, women, washing. Geralt’s kind of like a cat, Jaskier thinks idly, how he leans into the firm drag of Jaskier’s fingernails against his scalp. It’s hard to beat back a smile. Those eyes of his, normally beady slits, balloon in the dim moonlight. Jaskier pushes down on his shoulders to get him to submerge himself. He goes easily, lingering under the surface for a moment, where his silver hair hangs suspended around him in a filmy cloud. Then he bursts back through the surface like a quenched sword, hot and steaming. Maybe there was something to those strange rituals after all.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #fanfiction #writin stuff #my goal is to have this done in a few weeks........Wish Me Luck

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moonstruck-ffxiv-blog · 5 years

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Bold all that applies to your muse

Italicized- Applicable in some way.

• Sibling(s): sister(s) | brother(s) | none | other

#ezrien poquelin #personality traits

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