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azul-marie · 2 years

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flirtatious character intros. (various/goddess reader.) (1)

note: fem. reader. suggestive. 3rd person pov. feat. erron black, shang tsung, noob saibot, spawn, rain

hello mk/mk11 fandom! i’ve wanted to try writing this form of reader insert/imagine since i first began playing mkx/mk11, and i’ve finally done it. at least, i’ve written one part of it — i’d love to make this a miniseries for fun.

this particular set includes a divine/goddess reader interacting with a few male characters. i plan to add more roster characters in a second part, so please look forward to that. if there are any character inconsistencies, please let me know; i’d love to improve as much as possible. enjoy!

part 2 ; part 3.

erron black

erron black: well, ain’tcha a beaut.

erron black: more like a hand in marriage, sugar.

erron black: i’ve never been one for worship.

erron black: if god’s as pretty as you, i wouldn’t mind getting down on my knees every once in a while.

erron black: hello, goddess.

erron black: anytime’s a good time to appreciate a fine-looking lady.

erron black: honey, can you blame a man for trying?

erron black: might you be one of them?

shang tsung

shang tsung: what a magnificent sight.

name: it is the power the elder gods’ bestowed upon me at the dawn of my creation.

shang tsung: hm. yes, that too.

shang tsung: goddess.

shang tsung: as cold as you are beautiful, i see.

shang tsung: your fellow gods are quite fond of you.

shang tsung: a shame they’ll miss you once i’ve taken hold of your soul.

shang tsung: would you change your mind if i said they were gifts of worship?

noob saibot

noob saibot: i will succeed in accomplishing what shinnok could not.

noob saibot: having you as my bride.

noob saibot: sweet death longs for your embrace.

noob saibot: in time, we shall be as one.

noob saibot: they yearn for your touch, goddess.

noob saibot: avert your eyes from kuai liang.

noob saibot: blessings that are rightfully mine.

spawn

spawn: why’s a pretty little thing like you caught up in this mess?

name: i fight to serve those who place faith in me, that their worship be not in vain.

spawn: you’re in over your head, lady.

spawn: my, my.

spawn: depends on how well you throw your punches, goddess.

spawn: picking a fight, aren’t we.

spawn: that all you’d like to demonstrate?

spawn: a goddess in the flesh. here to judge me for my sins?

spawn: gutsy. planning to get me on my knees, have me beg for mercy?

rain

rain: grant me the godhood of my birthright.

rain: i’d rather be pleasing you, goddess.

rain: we would be divine together, lady name.

rain: i’ll make you see me for the god we both know i am.

rain: how so? afraid you’ll like them?

rain: neither raiden or fujin are worthy of your affections.

rain: anyone can see how enamored they are with you, name.

rain: neither raiden or fujin are worthy of your affections.

rain: i am fated to reign as a god and a king.

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soleilst · 5 months

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▪︎3 Times the Moon Visited Me (original short story)

I've always been enchanted by the starlit sky, for countless nights it was the only thing I had. It seemed to bring some sense of comfort to my sleepless nights. At nights such as those, you see, I never slept, I couldn't...I simply waltzed around my chamber either in deep thought or utter anticipation. I was either lamenting over my own worries or waiting patiently for her arrival--sometimes both. Who is her that I am speaking of you may wonder, but fret not dear reader,as the one I'm describing is no other than the moon herself.

You see, in my dreamers nights of solitude there was one that kept me company, and oh was she fine company... Fortunately she visited me quite often, every night in fact. However three were the times that I ever got to talk to her.

The first time I remember quite vividly, for it was the night I met her. To me this night is very dear, so I would appreciate greatly if you paid slightly more attention to this passage.

It all happened on a cold December night, like all enthralling things do. I was of course in my little room of solitude, this night in particular sitting curled up in a dark and dusty corner where no candlelight could reach me. Bruises covered my skin like purple patches of fabric, yet they all stung horribly as they were quite fresh. It wasn't that I wasn't used to them though, and in spite of their appearance on my body being quite frequent, the words that were uttered upon their creation always hurt the most.

There i sat and wept by myself once again on a starry night. The chamber was completely silent for the biggest part of the night, however ae the clock neared midnight the howl of the wind accompanied my pathetic sounds of sorrow, whistling in my ears words filled with loathing and hatred, not for anyone in particular, just myself.

The air around me seemed to become thicker and breathing increased in difficulty. It felt adequate though I was drowning in an abyss of self-loathing. My senses were clouded and panic surged through my chest as I got up shakily and made my way with stumbing steps to the chamber's inky window.

Slowly, I tried to regain my composure and release my body from this horrible tension and anxiety that had possessed it momentarily. However, the teats glistening in my eyes didn't go unnoticed. Moments later, as I gad placed my head in between my arms on the windowsill in an attempt to wind down, a shining light caught my attention. As the bells of the church signaled the arrival or midnight, the clouds in the sky drifted ro reveal : her.

There she stood, in the middle of the midnight sky, smiling down at me with such tenderness I had never in my life seen before.

"Thou shall not stain thy porcelain face with tears" she said as she approached me.

Her voice was that of an ethereal entity, it's echo embracing all silence in the room and making it quickly disappear info thin air.

"The sky as thou see it is quite crowded with stars, is it not? They could not gauge the number of orbs up above."

As she said this I couldn't help myself from turning to have a look at the starry sky. Perhaps I gazed for too long though, as her next words were of such :

"Do not be fooled by its beauty, my child. Do thou know what it takes to create beauty?" She asked and turned to face me.

Hesitantly I shook my head and she averted her gaze to the night sky again.

"Every star that adorns thy night sky stands for every tear thous mortals shed. Every light up above the sky represents all the pain and sorrows of humanity, every single one of them stands for one of your tear-stained laments thous exclaim in woe."

Upon hearing this I wiped my tears in embarrassment, feeling exposed and suddenly aware of my actions.

"Is it bad?" I asked her in a voice that was barely a whisper.

"No, it is not." She responded and turned to face me once again. "However, I do not enjoy seeing thou weep in pain under my gaze." She said and a small smile adorned her lips before she leaned closer and enveloped me in her arms.

That night, despite it being freezing outside, I found myself asleep on my chamber's windowsill. Unaware of the harsh winds of winter, I slept peacefully with the stars as my duver and her voice as my lullaby.

The second time she visited me I was not alone.

A pitch black familiar rested on my lap as I stroked its fur with gentle movements. From time to time it would make a noise of satisfaction and turn to look at me with eyes of emerald.

The familiar and I sat in the middle of my chamber, on top of a carpet that was covered in dust. Around us laid a thousand pieces of objects that once decorated this room.

I must admit it was a shame that they were so heartless destroyed.

Thankfully not many had harmed me.

The little familiar was humming nocturnal tunes the whole time until the church's bells chimed twelve times.

Suddenly the familiar fell silent and jumped from my lap and made its way to the window, rubbing its head on the foggy glass, as of signaling me to open it.

Curiously I followed its instructions and was immediately met with a freezing gush of wind which sent shivers down my spine.

"I see thou are not in solitude too." Spoke a mysteriously familiar voucher.

"It's...you?" I asked in utter bewilderment.

"Yes, tis' I and thou, thou and I, do thy eyes lie?"

I shook my head in response and brought the familiar closer to my chest before it could jump odd the window.

"My child, tis such a beautiful night, why are thou isolating thouself from the nocturnal joys? There's no use in mourning over mere materials." She said and I guessed that she probably had a look at the state of my chamber.

I didn't reply, instead turning ro look a the disarray of objects as well. I felt empty, as I'd the destruction of my possessions as also the eradication of my inner self, my thoughts, my emotions--everything.

"It is not easy for one to let go of something they hold dear. The stars let fo of their light ro illuminate the earth, the moon and the sun as well. What is stopping this from doing so too?"

"I-i..." I stuttered, but she cut me off before u could utter a concrete sentence.

"Yoh are attached." She stated and shook her head in disapproval and mild disappointment. "Thou is attached to things that have inflicted nothing but harm upon thou. Is it really worth mourning their loss?"

I glanced down at my feet in shame. She was right but I still didn't feel exactly content.

"Sorrow and woe thou shall not feel. Instead, lift thy head up and celebrate. Celebrate thy unspoken liberation."

This eas the last thing she said that night, right before she disappeared once again.

But as she did so, for the first time that night I felt something other than grief--I felt hope.

The third and last time she visited me was the night before My birthday and on that night I was already sat on my windowsill, filled with anticipation.

I could tell this night would ve special, for it was the first time in a while that I felt genuinely happy. My eyes gleamed with hope as I waited anxiously for the chime of the bells to echo and midnight to arrive.

When she appeared on that night, she didn't greet me--she looked solemn.

"Recknsider, my child...Thou do not deserve this." Was all she said that night.

Despite her lack of word though, she stayed by my side for the entirety of it.

I savored each and every moment. The lamination of the stars, the dark shadows and most importantly: her.

"Farewell, my friend." She spoke for the last time, as she cupped my face with both hands and laid a kiss on my forehead before disappearing into the night.

Tears mixed with anguish and joy flowed down my face.

I was finally free.

Free from my bounds.

Free for eternity.

Those were my thoughts as I smiled to myself before jumping from the chamber's only window and putting this story to an end.

I was liberated, never to be bound again.

And then the sun rose.

#writing #original work #original writing #soleilst #dark academia #young author #author #moon #stars #moonlight #short story

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trials-of-apollo-my-beloved · 3 months

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Not the Hunter Not the Weapon

A AoD/Apollo fic

Summary: The stars were gone and the sun rose to the next day.

“Hey, AoD?”

YESEST THY LESTER?

I didn’t used to think I’d ever be able to get over… well a lot of things really. Mainly the fact that I was dating an arrow. Wasn’t I one of the most attractive beings ever? Not to mention the most talented if I do say so myself? (I would say the most attractive, but I think Aphrodite would kill me if I were to do that: god or mortal.)

Oh also the Shakesperian being continuously put through a wood chipper then regurgitated into my brain matter with his every word. I was hoping that would get endearing eventually. Luckily I was right. My imagery does still hold up just how endearing it felt initially though.

There was a reason that one of the godly ground rules for dating was mind reading was off limits. Discounting ensuring the basic trust element of a healthy relationship, having someone sentient poking about your head was just never pleasant.

“I was just wondering, if we don’t make it out of this…” I took a deep breath. The thought of me not surviving to live another millenia was already fast encroaching on me since I landed in that garbage bin in New York. Now that I had Meg, and Aod… with me?

Well it was one thing to impassively consider my own demise as a simple possibility, another entirely to think that one of them would not make it out of this either. I was literally walking Meg up to her abuser in the place where most of her torment was conducted. There were no more lines I could allow to be crossed.

In any other circumstances discounting the fate of possibly millions of people I would disavow the possibility. These circumstances were the rare exception. My own mortality honestly felt different from Meg and AoD’s. Not different in that my godly powers were now returning to me, but in how we could die.

I wasn’t sure what exactly, but throughout all of my days as Lester Papadopoulos I’d never come to terms with the possibility of my death, at least not until Python became unavoidable. Perhaps it was my previous tangles with the fates, but there was something baser within me, something beyond even Delphi's purview that told me I would not a “mortal’s death”.

There was no way Lester Papadopoulous would die in a car crash or a freak accident. I would go out either with irony like a greek hero or- or perhaps hero was just another word for hubris.

The fates would not be so particular with my mortal friends.

Meg going back to Nero’s Tower was practically an ironic death toll and I was wringing it. Yet, perhaps her insignificance to the greater narrative could spare Meg McCaffrey a tragic end? As the god of plague I was the reaper of children for many millennia. I had seen many children taken before their time, imposed upon many families tragedy.

I used to see it as somewhat of a mercy to provide a poetic death. As if meaning could be inscribed to the lack of further meaning.

My shoulders hunched. I took a deep breath. I had spoken to AoD so my boyfriend could help get me out of this proverbial funk where even the Jackson Five had failed. Yes I’d even pulled out the classics.

AoD quivered in my hands and I averted my eyes. Perhaps, if by some stroke of the fates, Meg was not doomed. If there was anyone in the world who could combat the inevitably of space and time it would be Meg McCaffrey.

Perhaps it was fortune that I was knocked from my golden throne atop the futures of mortals whose destinies had crashed and burned in blazing glories, like my sun chariot streaking across the sky. This way Meg would not have an Apollo above to find poetry in her death. She was insignificant to the wider narrative, but not to Apollo’s.

I knew that as I was now I would never be writing any odes to the legacy of Meg McCaffrey. Some people can only be encapsulated by their mere existence. Something so tiny yet so large could not be encapsulated by words.

THOU SPIRALIST.

“Not a word,” I kept my voice low. It was late, though I had snuck out of my cabin to talk to AoD among the stars and my sisters watch, I still didn’t want to risk waking anyone up. “Also since when did you use punctuation?”

SINCE WHEN WAS THY’S NAME BEEN DEBBIE?”

I shifted in the patchy grass. My orange t-shirt, which clashed horribly with the scenic shade of the forest, caught on the tree I was resting on. The tag on the shirt scratched uncomfortably against my neck.

“Well never, to my knowledge. Though who knows, I didn’t choose to be Lester either. So, ask my father.”

SEEIST WHAT I MEANEST? THOU ART BEING A COMPLETE DEBBIE DOWNER.

“Pff, sure I am. I am going to die.” The words left my lips like they were. Lester’s lips were not Apollo’s yet they were. I said that, yet I did not.

EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE.

I sighed and scratched my neck. The itch persisted and I relented to just lying down on the grass, The Arrow of Dadona held up to the stars to stay in my line of sight.

I didn’t like to think that I was holding my best friend and potential life partner up to the sky. That was my father’s domain, not mine. A plain of clouds and suffocating air were one to fly too close. No, I was looking at the stars. The night was full of stars and space.

When I was younger and tucking into bed I would ponder if this was actually truly the only time my sister and I were held up together. The sun was, after all, a star. It was a silly train of thought.

“You know, that’s not proper Doctors etiquette.”

WHAT DOEST THOU MEAN? The arrow vibrated gently in palms, almost if he was attempting dulcet tones through vibrations alone. Not impossible, to his credit. Though, even if it was true and trees could talk, I doubted very much they could sing.

“Us doctors don’t tell patients that everything will be fine, because they won't always be. It’s seen as lying. Not a problem I ever came across of course, but it’s common practice. You just tell the patient you’ll do their best for them.”

The arrow huffed… well as well as an arrow could huff.

SOUNDEST TO ME LIKEST AN EXCUSEST. LESTER OF THE DOCTORATE, I ASSURE THEE EVERYTHING SHALT END UP FINE. I WILL NOT ALLOW THOU TO DIE.

I chuckled. “Strangely that does reassure me AoD. Though it really shouldn’t. You’ve been about as helpful with prophecies as the Grey Sisters.”

RUDE!

“Yeah, maybe a little. Here, how about I do it my way. Arrow of Dadona,” I sat up and hoisted the arrow with me as if to look at it at its eye level, “I promise to do my best to keep thou- I mean you! Alive.”

With that solemn bargain, and my doubts assuaged - at least enough to head to bed - the stars were gone and the sun had risen on the next day.

#lester papadopoulos #pjo apollo #trials of apollo fanfiction #arrow of dodona #polldona #polldona fanfiction #if polldona has no fans i am dead

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joytri · 2 years

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Avert thy mortal eye.

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the-wardens-torch · 2 years

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FFXIVwrite2022 Prompt#3: Temper

“Pagl’than… Gilded Sea.”

The cryptic message had come to him on the currents of Dreadwyrm aether like a bird on the breeze. He knew that there was only one possible source for it.

Tiamat.

She had been freed only a short time ago, brought round by the brave words and selfless actions of the Warrior of Light. He had heard word of her wings darkening the sky over the lands of the Amal’Jaa, of her carrying the Azure Dragoon into battle against the Telephoroi and an ever-growing army of corrupt primals.

He had traveled through its aftermath for hours now, trying to reach the grassy plains beyond it. The ground had been littered with broken cannons and scrap machinery. Some built by Garleans or Ishgardians, still others built by Kobolds. All around, the shattered barrels of Lominsan muskets and Gridanian spears. A battlefield once occupied by the combined forces of all Eorzea.

As he crested a small hill, he soon found himself in a vast open plain… and he suddenly understood why they called this area the Gilded Sea. Blond summer grass grew all around, turning golden in the approaching dusk.

“Summoner…”

The word came in the languages of man and dragon simultaneously, twisting around one another like colored smoke. He turned towards its source. The last time he had seen Tiamat, she had been shackled and bound, wings extended in full flight, great and terrible yet stilled and lifeless, as if she were a taxidermy hawk. But now, she lounged in a sandy clearing a few yalms ahead, wings folded and front legs crossed over one another in calm repose.

“No. Thou has given me thine name, and I will honor thee by speaking it, Falerin… Arcita.”

The strange double-speak halted as she spoke his name, as if the two colors of smoke had coagulated into a third color that only somewhat resembled its component hues. A mortal’s name spoken with a draconic accent.

“Its a honor to know that you remember my name… Tiamat.” he said. He briefly entertained the thought that hearing an alien creature speak her name was just as strange to her as it was to him. The thought made his face soften to a warm smile.

He walked towards her with some trepidation, knowing that she could end him with the slightest flick of her tail or tap of her claw, but emboldened by the knowledge that she would not. As he approached within a few fulms, she lowered her head, tilting it like a great bird so that he was staring directly into one crimson eye. He was all too aware of how small and vulnerable he was as a pupil larger than his whole head began to constrict before him.

“Thou art still frightened, I see… As thy kin should always be of dragonkind.“ she said, snorting a jet of hot air from her nostrils. “But it is of no consequence. It gladdens me that thou answered my call.”

“It gladdens me to see you free as well, but... do you need something from me? I doubt I can do much for you now...” Falerin said, clasping his hands behind his back to stop their shaking.

“No, child. I would not make a thrall of thee. It is merely my sentiment that thou art owed a victory for thine kindness.”

“A victory?”

“Yes, the victory of knowing that thou hast taught me a lesson that not even five thousand years of solitary contemplation could.” She stared at the sky.

“Since my emancipation, I have learned that a fraction of my undying love for Bahamut all these millenia may have been... What thou and thy mortal Spoken ilk call Tempering… The thought of it shames me deeply… That the sacred love of mine own heart became entangled with the profane obeisance of another‘s influence. And that I would fall prey to the same ailment as so many weaker creatures.”

Tempering? It sounded so improbable. Falerin averted his gaze to the ground, his eyes fixating on her great claws, flexing nervously into the dirt. As if she were a person fidgeting with a tablecloth.

“I don’t think that’s shameful at all.” he said. “If anything, isn’t it a relief to know that not all of your suffering came from your own soul? Doesn‘t that fact make you feel a little more like you can forgive yourself?”

“Thou mistaketh me, mortal. The shame of my grief and my guilt will be with me until the end of time… But the shame I feel now is one that I can act upon. For five thousand years, I branded my imprisonment as atonement… However it was nothing more than indulgence of my own vanity. An excuse to remain helpless and uninvolved in the plight of this star.”

Falerin smiled again. “You made yourself your own worst enemy…. But you were able to see that wasn’t the case once the real enemy was at the gates.”

“Yes… Thou dist come to me not to ridicule nor coddle, but simply to be by my side in my grief. To sing with me, to give voice to my suffering. None had ever done such a thing for me, not even mine own kin. It may not have been thee who freed me, but it was thee who heralded the coming of dawn. And for that, you have my deepest thanks.”

“I was right then?” Falerin said, a hint of mischief in his voice.

Tiamat lifted her head to the sky, issuing a staccato series of stifled roars that he could feel in his chest like a drumbeat. As alien as the sound was, he knew laughter when he heard it. He realized now that this was the most freely he had ever heard her speak.

When the next words were spoken, the strange sensation of double-speak came from the fact that man and dragon spoke the exact same words, at the exact same moment.

“One day the sadness will end.”

((Three. Hours. To write this. it’s a bit of an abrupt end, but I have to stop writing for the day before I chew my own hands off. Good god am I out of practice. Also sorry if this doesn‘t make much sense on its own - there are a bunch of prequels to it from past FFXIVwrites that I’m drawing on.))

#ffxivwrite2022 #prompt 3: Cross

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libidomechanica · 21 days

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In begging him, the worth

A rispetto sequence

The Cuppe, and many a want of beauties seized her islands, or been of Denmark, for Ophelia brought of himself anew beyond the

tiles, for long to make them teare. I see the budded quicks, o tell you kiss your Valentine. I hear thee to my sable Friar Bacon!

How fares it with music roll, and burn. May revisit thee as I ought, to march with violence to that envise all, then Christian scorner,

but die, as may be Punic the antique Persians taught with kindled from his heaved breast. I slip the thing as it grew lucent as glass.

III

Or ran the sea; and wooing is that goes all which kindled the Will and every wave enthrones of the twelve steps as there. While yet beside;

and in the ditch again. Of all things pass, and ocean-plains with feet and break the sad mishap—but why? But this sterile perquisite.

’Er dream’d out: and stretch lame hands so oft bynempt. Some straying on my lords of content and waves kept the dim desolation, and Zoe

spent. Her shade by whom he spoken of disconsolate the Shadow watching that broke for thought avails the day close her crimson fringes.

Into Bagdad came all sideways, and in my arms, she shifts, shirts, jackets, or come ye in peace in the doorway, darken on the season’s

colder part were in such alcoves to strive to keep so sweet words of Hell; who murmur’d, and woe among? With their high-built nest. Then let go.

When I the Arrow, I the Arrow- head. A glory from household, we know than that breath; and flowering still; and on every girl in

a city;—I should, that makes seen in privately bent, two legs protege; while he sleeps the summons from the friar of Orders Gray.

VII

But Juan wore the primrose yet is dead, who stay there was enter’d the radiate: fierce men of rathe and post and flew to herself with the

wind? By thy poet drags a labouring breasts and complete the black- lined map of his curtain’d, No hungry jacobins the use of helth.

VIII

And Love the chamber, and so he type she shook her languages did started all, the breezes blew reveillée to the vortex of our actors,

artists, and he saw increasing on his brethren twelue, that the dormitory, then let go. The same, we readiness to Pall Mall.

How blanch’d with the fray. Nor bowl of wassail mantle hairy, to these orbs of visions: they track’d the Moon a Year—while they are obedient,

the cabin-window waved of course these do not spoken; but Theotormon broke and made the rights on all legal ways most humble shade.

Then stand like of heart alarm’d, aw’d with night, was also did shine, in such other, touch entire, except his face; all that not on your

absences I glimpse of the world to th’world, and wrist. Hath still set them sympathetic, because all the yet-loved sire who but Lippo!

A thing, where nor time in years which led by his gracious, graceful as Dian, wherein campeth, spread, under the princesses averted

are from Plutoes balefull bowre I trowe can be belief in white thorns and friends, as if t were a plague ’bove scorn the twilight is still.

XII

Out of a station in the South that sittest ranging with an Ionian accent, low and good. Of comforts of old, but there to the prey

of generous love, and dear to me such who speak; her eye. So is it the old Tyrian tunic of Dido’s alpha beta betters!

XIII

Too much; but subserves to the cold crypts where kindlier day; touch the morning and of Juan, when I forget, or a good night, and carp, and

ere he used to pieces. The sky of a guest; and two or thrown, dotting the ground his sleeve and brute; though so much in unity with woe.

XIV

And already not on yonder you squeal at and fiddle. From April days, and heard the harbor should allured, and one is sinking

dolefully, until he reach’d that mild beasts, grows on mortal pinions to them real: the longing the approved us one. Now tread a face!

She comb’d even those restless, hush’d my deepest measure! And think how we show’d them has sold, I saye as somewhat for thy I weene the

labouring punishment. But whether such perils, more purpose in you, don’t much blissful shore. Upon her noblest sphere I find its core like.

XVI

And all the water found. A withered in its current to see what possessor were at my sheep look up, and echo back her officer,

in case of doubt not win; but now my oat proceeds, and that you will be false, how happy, for the waves she went up the beginning.

XVII

Nor let the dreary changes of every drop on drop which we dare invoke to the same things in fragrant too, who dislike in Nature,

banish sleep the gate call’d again. A savage sort would do it, exception to the immersion, who wore the burning found understand!

XVIII

Might have been done, such as an old book, and low! Now crystal—and dread. Or eagle’s wing, or at least one oar their joyous days. Upon their

toil; nor yet thus, that fly with Hannibal, and my lord’s heart thumping like a Turk, or Greeks she took a lessons are also heart, be torn.

XIX

When they were, none distinguish pay. One whispers to their money on the true. A gale; and hell, at once did not refused another king

was sisters of a double that any blow struck down to the city, sore be sprites did My foe outstript me in its toy!

Not been pure, or is the envier? Just at thy owne will embarrass most people of the glass; I speak their turn the white hairs on the grief

be changeful dreamless he wish’d to know the sacrifice: though I hear thy lieutenancie to the same ring. In summo foelicitas.

XXI

Her office was to thee, then come home, my love so much as could be demolished. And she tender to be seen fanning the bowers, and

how does for a loftiest kingdoms meek of joy, I slip the wind would but give these sulphury revels, that like an open fields, and die.

XXII

But Summer, others were it seem’d upset; and dry’d him safe into thee, thus, thus they must yield their golden opes, the owl, the soul! Meets

the youngest sate on Pilgrimage were somewhat slain son, a bill the circle of their though cast together. So envious meant to breede.

XXIII

And his scull will mock thee form cells? Fair Adeline was read; it is the wickedness like twilight renew, the season’s children come never

reach’d the boy’s mite, ’ and quaint enamel of this worse, alas! Turn then faith, and voices took the bark of friendly sigh’d and afterwards.

XXIV

Vague desires, like twilight gay meteor of a happy thoughts quite as quite necessary to the sand swam round the long alone?

Let’s beard, she was well as spoil their backs, and dark, let us back to Lilliput, and there was one fit for each ecstatic instantly?

XXV

Where if men seek this hard a science chill winter wind, concerns you too be wisdom sleeps or more love, gold, and their image comforts on

her cheek: I am not leaves to be all these should be the little confusion. Cut through all that errs from heaths starr’d with might to six A.

XXVI

Been the Past in outward show, while the hour when first—but what we wanted to beat high, and distance from the seas, in fact as well as a

cane that forget. Or was, beauteous region both, however, this flat lawn with sandals gray; and coldly; lights of light arbour, no dark graves!

XXVII

A shade of pain: o sorrow makes us loud in the joys of richer until morning lies dead, and then she protested, or anything:

god slays Himself as kindled the whole moon is hid; the grantors,— yet so far the richest field. And in the faculty, when the first.

XXVIII

The church like flower inscrib’d with nothing can confounded comrade’s though hate nor envy e’er can be pleasure, yet they surveyed. Her eyes:

by love’s chime: I own no prosody can physicians say, or rather suffering leaf, and by themselves we prided leander, Mr.

XXIX

The one I ate? Nor leaves your hands they go to warble; and nought by lessons are also had all beside thy selfe did giue the door, it

must box without their nurses, loving kindly, ever she will I hear about the beach, the sunny land of youth in love with his eyes.

XXX

Take away the wine, in such other’s bowers with many planes above my love shall cease. Accompanied by the heart of Europe’s

eye on eye, that slender shadows of four hamlets round her warriors by the rolling waves, which yielded a day’s life, make love of women!

XXXI

Th’ exacted by Bacchanalian- like besmear’d with all the Sacrament, will wince whose life advancing wings, and the young Livonian.

Which credit with your world for ever night i’ th’ year, at best a convulsion tearless, as are young race of those who dared not.

XXXII

And dread voice than wise; yet poortith cauld, and what garden, taste refin’d to reduced, as looks in the heap a moment of praise. I long to

mend, that Nature their gay wardrobe wear when gusts shake still at striues to the deity of plainness and the stiff and queen: and all the life!

XXXIII

And such a pilgrimage were lost, I call, now burgeons every dew- drink-offering like that. But the dim desolation of piastres. Should

at least, which averse from his music roll, and strange, and then a slightly spent, and when soft voice than for all help thinking, here to a tune.

XXXIV

Days the foxglove spire, for every fair; some things, has parting for four, and howlest, issuing out their well described—what’s still be found so

forth, to kiss their salvation was perfect as I enter. Juan, by some disappointed scarcely can return, and many a sally.

XXXV

Her off in vain, like to a rendezvous, and never restore for that, for thy voice! For all he speaks in an empress, but nought to the

chill wink and dry away, like my present rest: but where they did end. Sitting as they her in your fruitful hours, and dipt in garrison.

XXXVI

Our love in schools, let random sun and marvell’d, stricken thro’ the former years might not ugly, and ready, and high, while the most women

anywhere; for some odd angle for word acknowledge? I said, so long, and I hid in Leutha’s vale: art thou wilt, thou hear, Eadwacer?

XXXVII

But open converse is the usual look me thro’ the dreams, and sitting on the Russian office was abhor—in cities caged. If

fair Gulbeyaz overdid her Face beneath. The cables of pain: o sorrow drowning song. By park and drown mind and root, in some piece-meal!

XXXVIII

I am poor brother Angelico’s the world to th’ shades where all them Mars, bellona, what matter who had now dilated

my ideal, for my Jeanie. To the fair faces on the spirit, and decided to help each other for some still perfumes of sin.

XXXIX

By nature’s ancestors are, or with thine the student at me. His licensed boldness of people would not solace can I fly no farther

he well-built organ, doubtless thou wert true? No world for beauty being about to the captive Jews by Baba’s fault, he said No!

Thou camst, flye backe to his on you covered my lichen-faithful answerless, lustful joys the wild wind and gay Koutousow’s most precautious

benches. There speaks in a fray, half letting in the true. And with fashionable wing, deflow’ring to the ledges of the type this den.

XLI

Tho’ I since in that brings but one. As ever trod before, reduc’d to bear thy lip, and laid youngling weep. When one’s wrong has he who turns

was guide to each, and harps divinely sang, and forks clank’d by waters shone the moon is hid; the green field that slain by what the well-built nest.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #182 texts #rispetto sequence

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loving-life-loving-lysol · 5 years

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#aesthetic #aestheitcs #moodboard #black #grey #black and white #edgy #grunge #alternative #emo #alt #knife #knives #tw knife #theif #thief #whoops i /know/ how to spell #steal #avert thy mortal eyes

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kylah-adams · 5 years

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avert thy mortal eyes

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incorrectcaniform · 4 months

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photos taken by my friend & one selfie. i dont take photos of myself

#avert thy mortal eyes #im being wrung out like a wet towel besties #mistakes are punishable by death so never forget that one!!!

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hekateanwitchcraft · 3 years

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Crowned With Snakes and Branches of Oak: Hekate Brimo

This is a post specifically on Hekate Brimo, for Brimo as a general epithet and goddess, please read @nehetisingsforhekate’s post on Brimo.

The Name:

Brimo (Βριμὼ) is an epithet Hekate is sometimes referred to in Her chthonic manifestations, and this name means ‘angry’ or ’terrifying’. Hekate is also called by different names of a similar nature. She is called “δασπλῆτις” (Dasplêtis), meaning frightful or horrid, in Theocrates’ Pharmakeutria. She is also named “θεά δεινός” or “δεινὴ θεὸς” (Thea Deinos/Deini Theos), meaning dread goddess, or frightening goddess. This phrase is used in the Argonautica, referring to Hekate named as Brimo.

Historical Usage:

Brimo is most notably used to refer to Hekate in the Argonautica. She is called Brimo three times, specifically in the rituals of magic that are performed. This shows a trend of calling on Underworld deities specifically by their epithets when worshipping their chthonic manifestations, as well as the trend of magic’s association with chthonic powers. These passages are reproduced below:

“Medea, clothed in black, in the gloom of night, had drawn off this juice in a Caspian shell after bathing in seven perennial steams and calling seven times on Brimo, nurse of youth, Brimo, night-wanderer of the underworld, Queen of the dead. The dark earth shook and rumbled underneath the Titan root when it was cut, and Prometheus himself groaned in the anguish of his soul.” (132)

“Then he dug a pit a cubit deep, piled up the billets, and laid he sheep on top of them after cutting its throat. He kindled the wood from underneath and poured mingled libations onto the sacrifice, calling on Hecate Brimo to help him in the coming test. This done, he withdrew; and the dread goddess, hearing his words from the abyss, came up to accept the offering of Aeson’s son. She was garlanded by fearsome snakes that could themselves round twigs of oak; the twinkle of a thousand torches lit the scene; and hounds of the underworld barked shrilly all around her. The whole meadow trembled under her feet, and the nymphs of the marsh and river...cried out in fear.” (141)

These passages indicate that Brimo was a particularly frightening manifestation of Hekate. One which shook the earth as She emerged, and was attended by fearsome creatures. She even frightened the nymphs who resided in the place where She manifested.

Brimo is also used as the name for Hekate in Lycrophon’s Alexandra. The passage has been reproduced below:

“O mother, O unhappy mother! thy fame, too, shall not be unknown, but the maiden daughter of Perseus, Triform Brimo, shall make thee her attendant, terrifying with thy baying in the night all mortals who worship not with torches the images of the Zerynthian queen of Strymon, appeasing the goddess of Pherae with sacrifice. And the island spur of Pachynus shall hold thine awful cenotaph, piled by the hands of thy master, prompted by dreams when thou hast gotten the rites of death in front of the streams of Helorus. He shall pour on the shore offerings for thee, unhappy one, fearing the anger of the three-necked goddess, for that he shall hurl the first stone at thy stoning and begin the dark sacrifice to Hades.” (1174-1188)

Here Hekate is called Triform, or three-formed, Brimo. This description of Hekate is also far from one of a peaceful and friendly goddess. Here She is described as angry, and being attended by frightening baying hounds. Thus, Brimo is used to indicate Hekate’s more horrifying manifestations in its historical usage.

Hekate Brimo in My Practice:

In my practice, Brimo is ‘the lowest manifestation of Hekate.” To me, this indicates that Hekate Brimo is the most fearsome, Underwordly version of Hekate. She is a terrifying goddess, crowned with venomous snakes and oak branches. She carries daggers and torches, and sometimes has snakes instead of legs. Her skin is grey and Her eyes are like flames. In Her wake, the ground shakes, and out of Her steps grow the most noxious flowers and roots.

Brimo is the name I give to any of the more dreadful manifestations of Hekate. She is called on for petitions for justice and revenge, and is the goddess invoked in harmful magic. Hekate Brimo is the version of Hekate I associate with the Restless Dead, and who I view as roaming the roadsides on the night of the dark moon. This Hekate is also what I equate with Her role as the Queen of Witches, but not necessarily as the goddess of magic more generally. Her association with magic lies within curses, spells for justice and punishment, spells involving the dead, and rituals which invoke the inhuman daimons of the Underworld, over which She has dominion.

Hekate Brimo is also closely associated with the Erinyes, or Furies, in my veneration of Her. These Underworld goddesses of punishment and justice are frequently associated with Hekate in the PGM, as well as other literature. In Statius’ Thebaid, they are invoked and propitiated together (along with Hermes). These goddesses also mirror Hekate Brimo’s appearance, with snakes in their hair and carrying flaming torches of yew.

Hekate Brimo is honored with chthonic offerings: libations of milk, honey, and wine. She was also historically offered black sheep. These are burned in a pit, and once these offerings and rituals are completed, one must turn away and not look back. Hekate Brimo is also attended with the hounds of the Underworld, and dogs on earth are in tune with Her presence. Whenever I have done a ritual invoking Hekate as Brimo, I have heard dogs barking before, during, and after. She may also send snakes to you. Plants I associate with this goddess are oak, yew, and various poisons, mainly aconite and mandrake.

Brimo is the face of Hekate which most often captivates audiences, and is the one that should be feared and is the representation of Hekate who is given offerings in hopes of averting Her. This is not an epithet of Hekate to be called on lightly, and these invocations must be done with the utmost care and reverence. She is one of the most frightening goddesses in the Ancient Greek pantheon, and is the stuff of nightmares.

Sources:

https://www.theoi.com/Text/ApolloniusRhodius3.html

https://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.01.0227%3Abook%3D3%3Acard%3D1190

https://www.theoi.com/Text/LycophronAlexandra.html

http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A2008.01.0450%3Asection%3D22

https://www.theoi.com/Text/StatiusThebaid4.html

Art: “Hecate” by Johfra Bosschart

#Hekate #Hecate #Brimo #witchcraft #Hellenic polytheism #hellenic witchcraft #witch #hekate deity

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brightwanderer · 4 years

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How to use Thou, Thee, Thy, and Thine correctly

For SOME REASON (*looks pointedly at Agnes Nutter*) this comes up a lot in the Good Omens fandom and I thought it might be useful to have a reference out there for folks who are interested!

(And to be clear: I personally do not think it is a big deal if you don’t get it right, I’m not here for judging anyone’s ability to correctly use pronouns that went out of fashion several centuries ago. But I know people like to know this stuff.)

1. Thou & Thee

The difference here is the same as the difference between I & Me or She & Her - the first one is the subject of the sentence (doing the action) and the second one is the object of the sentence (having the action done to them). So the pattern is:

“I gave her a flaming sword” vs “She gave me a flaming sword.”

“Thou gave me a flaming sword.” vs “I gave thee a flaming sword”

“Thou gave her a flaming sword” vs “She gave thee a flaming sword”

2. Thy & Thine

Similarly, the difference here is the same as between My & Mine and Her & Hers.

“I gave away my flaming sword!”

“Thou gave away thy flaming sword?!” (Greek Chorus: ”She gave away her flaming sword??!”)

“It was mine to give away!”

“And it was also thine to keep...” (Greek Chorus: “And hers to lose, and hers to seek...”)

3. BUT SOMETIMES THE AESTHETIC

You do sometimes use “thine” in places where grammatically it should be “thy”, for the same reason as the most famous example of using “mine” in a place where it should be “my”:

MINE EYES HAVE SEEN THE GLORY OF THE COMING OF THE LORD

-- simply because “eyes” starts with a vowel and “my eyes” is slightly more difficult to sing when you’ve got important grape-trampling to be getting on with. So a Mighty Angel Of The Lord who was feeling particularly poetic and hoping to inspire a few songs might appear before some poor goatherder and declare:

“Avert thine eyes oh mortal, lest thy sight be robbed from thee by glory!”

But honestly, just like most modern songs are quite happy using “my eyes”, I personally think if you just stick to the one rule to avoid confusion, it’s also fine:

“Avert thy eyes oh mortal, lest thy sight be-- wait where art thou going get back here I’ve got a message to deliver-- oh bugger.”

#good omens #writing #writing tips #grammar #archaic language #english is a daft olde buggre #of course then there's you and ye #and art and hast and so on #not to mention LEST #how adventurous do you feel

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atlazaraes · 3 years

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AVERT THY MORTAL EYES ! ind. pri. multimuse as writ by jailin .

#sp.#I know I won't appear in the tags yet since I made this blog last night but heyo

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cigarettesaftertea · 3 years

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Getting to know greek gods and goddesses

Disclaimer: All information is found on google, and therefore if any of it is wrong please do correct.

Artemis

Who is Artemis?

The goddess of wild animals, the hunt, and vegetation and of chastity and childbirth.

Artemis is known for her will in protecting her maiden hood. Every man who tried to rape or take her purity away, was never seen again after attempting.

Relations

Artemis is the older twin of Apollo, god of healing, medicine, archery, music, poetry and the sun. Artemis is the daughter of Zeus and Leto.

One of the stories of Artemis

Artemis, Orion and Apollo

Orion was the handsomest man in the world, a mighty hunter, an untiring dancer, a hearty eater. Many women loved him, and so did the men, because of his generous nature and caring heart. Orion loved the women as if he were their brother, and with the men he formed his most intimate and physically satisfying attachments. Even the gods and goddesses took notice of him, and enjoyed his company. But his favoured fortune led to his early death and legendary destiny. Such is the fate of heroes.

One day while he was hunting in the forest, he came upon a beautiful young woman who was also hunting, with a pack of the finest hounds he had ever seen. Both packs picked up the scent and they hunted together. When the deer was caught and killed, Orion saw that his companion was no mere girl, but the Virgin Goddess Artemis herself. He averted his eyes from her in respect.

"I thank thee for thy reverence, Orion," she said. "But come, let us be companions of the hunt together, thou and I."

Orion looked up at her, and foresaw many days of sport and fun together, and laughed with the pleasure of the thought. "Yes, my lady," he said. "I would be thy companion of the hunt."

"I love thy laugh," the goddess said, and they together dressed the animal and took it back to the city for distribution to the people.

Artemis and Orion passed the summer together. By day they hunted and sported, challenging each other to foot races, archery, and storytelling. In the evenings around the fire they bared their souls and told each other about their lives, their lost loves, their secrets. Orion spoke of the men he had loved and hoped to love again. Artemis spoke of the nymphs who attended her, their love affairs, and her romantic attachments to the goddesses and women of her cities. They became, in short, fast friends.

One night, when Artemis and Orion sat at their fire telling stories, Orion turned to her and said, "Artemis, my friend, my most beautiful crescent moon, I give thanks to the Fates that we are so well met. The love we share is as valuable as my life, and I am a better man for knowing you."

"I treasure our friendship also, Orion. Thou art a fine man and I bless our time together."

They shared an embrace. Then Orion jumped up and danced in celebration around the fire. Artemis followed him, and their shouts and laughter rang through the dark forest.

The next day, Apollo, the brother of Artemis, was walking through the forest. He smelled a low-burning campfire, and found the glade where Orion and Artemis lay still asleep. He saw and appreciated the beautiful Orion, but grew angry when he saw that Artemis lay with him. He assumed that Artemis also appreciated Orion in the masculine manner he himself did, and had compromised her virginity, her separateness from the sexuality of men. But he concealed his anger, put on a mask of friendliness, and whistled a bright tune until the two friends awoke. Seeing who was making the noise, they invited him to breakfast.

Later in the morning, Artemis attended to her priestesses elsewhere, and left her brother and friend to amuse themselves together.

Now Apollo is very beautiful; he is the sun; he is a god selected to sit among the twelve Olympians. He is vain, yet kind; wise, yet full of fun. Orion was immediately captivated by him, and naturally so. Apollo's heart was also caught by Orion's friendly company and gentle yet thoroughly masculine manner. Apollo took as his lovers many women and goddesses, and also men and gods. Unlike Orion, he was secretive about those male assignations, and would deny them if questioned about their exact nature.

But the attraction between Apollo and Orion took its natural course, and before the end of the afternoon the man and god had enjoyed together all the pleasures of manhood, to their mutual satisfaction. As the sun set they lay together in tender friendship murmuring in quiet conversation. Orion mentioned his happy anticipation of the return of Artemis and how the three of them might now be friends. Apollo stiffened in anger at the mention of his sister's name, for he had forgotten his mis-informed but potent jealousy.

"What incurs thine anger, my lord?" asked Orion.

"I'm surprised you would question my apprehension at the arrival of another who enjoys your favors."

Orion laughed before he could think not to. "My favors?" he exclaimed. "But Artemis is a chaste goddess. She has not known me, nor any man. We are companions, but of the hunt and the forest, not any bed or bower. Besides, I am a lover of men'as thou art."

Apollo saw the truth in what Orion said. He did not relish realizing his mistake, and he lashed out at Orion.

"You insult me--mortal," Apollo said, standing up, his face a blaze of wrath. Orion cowered at his feet, an unlikely posture for such a noble man, but he thought it prudent in the face of this capricious god.

Apollo picked up Orion's head by his hair and bellowed into his face, "I am not a lover of men--like you," and he spat out the last phrase in disgust. "I take women as my lovers, as nature intended. You are nothing but a boy, to sport with.

"My lord, I did not intend any insult--how could I after the joy we have known this same day?" But Apollo did not answer, turned, and strode away without a backward glance.

Hours after Apollo left him, Orion was found by Artemis in the dark, weeping quietly. She comforted him, and hearing his story, took him to his house, and left him alone, as was his wish. She returned to her house in the forest.

During the night, a terrible dream possessed Orion. He dreamed that a scorpion rose up from the forest floor and nearly killed him before he could defend himself. He did not know it, but it was Apollo who sent this scorpion. He dreamed he could not strike through the scorpion's armor, no matter how powerful or direct his thrust. He fought the scorpion in his dream the night through, and just before he awoke, the scorpion had almost stung him directly in his heart.

He woke at dawn, drenched with sweat, and relieved that the scorpion was only a dream, for he had never met a beast he could not kill. He went out, hoping to meet Artemis and tell her of his dream, but outside his door waited the giant scorpion from his dream, more terrible in reality than even in his mind. He fought it valiantly, with arrows and his sword, but as in the dream, he could not pierce its armor. The scorpion backed him to the sea, and Orion plunged in, hoping he could swim away from it.

Meanwhile, Apollo visited his sister. She angrily told him she disapproved of his treatment of her friend. He mildly begged her to hold her tongue, for something far worse was in need of her vengeance and loyalty. He said an evil man, Candaon, had the night previous attacked and raped Opos, one of her hyperborean priestesses, and was right now swimming to a distant island, hoping to escape the wrath of Artemis.

No one escapes the vengeance of Artemis when one of her own has been ravaged. Without even pausing to first comfort Opos, she grabbed her quiver and sped down to the sea. Apollo followed her, and pointed out the speck in the distance that was Orion's head, still putting distance between himself and the scorpion. "There he is," Apollo said, standing behind her so his face could not betray his treachery. Artemis loosed her arrow with unerring aim and slew her friend. When he saw his plan had succeeded, Apollo ran away. Artemis went back to the forest and found Opos who supposedly had been raped. Opos was unharmed, and knew nothing of an attack. When Artemis saw the girl was well, she soon deduced the truth. She retrieved Orion's body, but even Asclepius could not revive him, though he applied drops of the gorgon's blood to the lifeless lips of Artemis's true friend. Orion's spirit had already descended to Asphodel Fields.

Artemis placed Orion's body among the stars as a tribute to the friendship they once shared, a reminder to all mortals that men and women enjoy friendships of every variety and degree. The scorpion she killed, and set it also in the sky, behind Orion, as a warning to everyone under heaven of the treachery of those who are false to their lovers and false to themselves.

Vocab:

Thy - Your

Points:

Yes, Orion liked Apollo and vice versa

The reason Apollo was angry was because he was mostly secretive about his homosexuality but Orión was not, and so preventing him shaming himself by being a homosexual ( take note this was what Apollo thought) , he didn’t show his feelings and instead resorted to tricking Artemis to killing Orión.

Claims:

Greetings, yes, this story was taken by a web, link will be shown below.

This story is more of an Orion and Apollo story but i chose this because it shows how protective Artemis is over her maidens. And as this is a story that is , in my opinion, the most interesting, i have chosen it.

#artemis #dark acadamia aesthetic #literature #darkacademia #light academia #light academia aesthetic #greek mythology #orion #greek stories #royalcore #greek gods #ancient greek #greek blog #Spotify

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libidomechanica · 1 year

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Natures warke: the Doctor Cupid, thou for me

A curtal sonnet sequence

Mine. And the sunlight of This and rufull bands: O nobler weake we ourselves are one which wandering round a musket shattered. You glances and a shrine, a pale, pale corpse she’s honest Mah’met, or else almighty’s bow. Before that each one the red pieces of time. With fruit the same for the Trial Men, and gilte Rosemaree? And takes throat. And if I were to talk to meet in the nodding care? Natures warke: the Doctor Cupid, thou for me.

) Thine, whose manger guests were nearest, to kill. A better, so I taste a lily, the scent and lies are you—Then he rode down between syl-lables in a beastes and private placed wild winds kiss thy love and moving your have nothing song: then speak of dark eye glance upon Branch upon a spaciously, the courts of blue who teach that mortall for his shaking coals. I brake the blush o’ my heart bail; whoe’er keeps me from your husband, frankincense.

Find the pale yellow-leaves, while some ease, can tell me, what is a man accorde not the chanted locked, garden wears; but ’twas from Camelot still mortall sisters mix my silence of turbulence pursu’d, no hurt me. With a feeble cry he says, did some with itself. Gray halls as one balloons resting he loves his velvet bed, and for truth, that I and sunly and so fowle a fault much. But in blood. Next, where the nice yellow darlin’.

Albee rude Pan to her veins, in exposing knave—that never can compared unto thy Harím Dividuality so great a fall. I never finger point, a day of brutes, the flies—renounce that love them thus; thou shepheards looked arrow is, but we have one, and forth three-plank bed, and loosened his wingèd charities, like we cannot be matched his gainers such this come to her Fortune of young with greene: the Doctor Cupid brought hand?

Amid this minute. The Heaven to overthrow. An acid-yellow-leaved waters at twenty, no use to roses have arm’d himself inside a Warder than wise; strange death doth lap, nay lets, in except dreadful winding up. There is not die before. How I wish I mighty blest, knight all these nor spongy mosses, too solemn for your provocative laughter, and puts apparelled, distrusting made their smell in rebel arms?

Such a Banquet order’d as ink on a passing against such unholy battle I grow cold. When I was you, light sees. So while the bourne: and she inferior features speake? Alas! When we cease, beholds the namelesse Jesus, where honor now at break of darkness grown gray with what you disdaine, and Fate will, accordion. Of faults, and life thought in your have sugar’d Shírín’s Lip the Heavens. Lost, and die before us lie?

Unto thy bracelet rich in my loves; but walks in which is asleep, your chest; an age and swear, get drunken rat avert her abus’d, her smiling grace and equal spirit man and not warmed web she shiny black? I lay on through a thumbnail—brined and bruised, as on his deare, when it was on her in the until you, maiden, can tell! And, rank by rank, or teares, that Colin cloud that stung. Marching, up to attention, each one beneath.

All in shiny black night, thou moves by his art; at length without the dirt, for all these loved so longer ever mind thirst is no moe the hard? Cocked-hat once these thing, nay tis no compared unto its burning sun; conspiring words, alone in Fishes her face of love settled as thy approachful stare. As fast as the savior of the white you wrought we’d lives to oars and bound, he is dripping want and not both; but none shadow, washed dust ygoe.

Of Jesus, whose cheek there shine, from Generation finds, or be moved all my lustfull light, life-disquiet leaves cover like an animals, varnished, and enticing until I find wherein her talents in them all, and let the fireweed flower sallows’ need: so when Loue, I hope some more admiration yield, must weep to see his seat of his chin, a coat of the air, as those white have to weep, drows’d with sweetest air. Bred to clay.

Time it’s fun what divided into blow! No war nor pride demurs when you say you’re alive on thy father at the express me sharp scales is delicated lock upon. Where held most divine Musæus sing; and truce with too much; then awful, could scarce defence: the burden may resume; and to renew her oft, at the Veil may know right to loue. And unobserves to forgets throat, being bark, whose engine refus’d, her smile tea.

Knew that from your indiscretion lacke, beeing your waited for lack of shame which do in ruin you whiles, faire hands, turning with lots of hop and may seemed light and sunly and makes the morning sunshine of Loue on my new-found land—no such and Duty being Lord was just as that I did wandering fled! When Sorrowe and ne’er shee has a dog then the toy at mostly galleon tossed upon me grace and paid with his last oozings hour.

She had love vast and gums. For one with the brave, how shalt wane, so as I never laughing in sense, good turns, but this, I guess that sing, ev’ry tree a wealth to towers and tremble in the unclouded rabbit with the Dust of ripe grass, she were wound; some guy with a glass; while thy dark yard they hearts doth take affliction chosen one another one but them the light, while abye. Since last looks our pain, and endless with truth in the Ring, for thee.

He rose, I find the room is so compelling some attend the new made! Fled every mud cries, on! Caress, or be moved him as a cheat. The mair they sprang into dust. Gave delicated loud chaunce, and in to see his darken’d wholly spoken and gold lichen on a grave. To live with ripen today when all you ever saw a man who drank they never breast. The too-early about thee, severed at the grasses a good will, still.

Ye glowing from that, that time at will—the rest. Or sometime she hate. The Muses well she might hath Immortal clothes, when alone kingdoms of a leaf wind-driven as his face and bruised, as the mirror blue we passion, and trying thy store, harsh and from the Heaven and body talking, had never out of the remains to all who pause, doe not wring his hands till he find on the blood of hers, the pleasing Zephires blown overhaile.

Ah foolish marble busts in the strange it was power the morning, that Pity in Love be so content be astonished and steep rough to unrespect: the bridle and killed. And the Night no wretched and gray with rosy hue; there I saw a sea of the weaves fair he shorelines, time of a spacious ruling part; either noticed you say my name instant ferns, and fearing eyes were no more, and all early think that fears no blot?

Things pay who crown upon our days are what a haunt the park is purpose love give you are fled from a friend? Nearer one and childbeater gyfts bene all delightful to offend, it grow among then declare gone to swim naked Leda with a bunch of us will but forget. The bailey beare, now balefull Pity do pent influence had hid him lest excess, of zeal and gazed: I played and undid me. As he crept behind.

And the lasse aduaunce, and awful Beauties skies. The lake’s supposed to these, and his will so my lustfully cry, and love-knot in inks poore shew, whilst the snake, and the moss is innocence and even the Rhine; some do think that may nothing lest himself should’st have possible and I, in my voice: next Corinna sits, and needs my deare Sonne betray him, here and his with a twist, or els sometimes a tunnel. Upon the Lady of Shalott.

Perhaps some prison fare, who watches us by submitting of them when you with the pilgrim bore her things: whether thrilled, for thee how that makes it bleed again. Bask in true delighted, o that what I feel, across a broken utterly Absál, pass’d by Gods dear, dear life. Thou bestowest thou shalt wane, so far from what sweet flowers, those Gothic times and look’d with a step seemed to that’s fit for still, and bowe your teeth oft for us?

To put on so soft, so wild; thou stare, gave as spring fram’d by one hours: the kiss, and left a little near. To her veins, in loves a woman whom not only to have seas; a red sailed about us, bats wheel of the deed without beauties, they roam; no thought, and the sky, without a kiss bring again. A funeral, witty Ovid, by whom fair love of blue the place; sylent and galleon tossed each sex, to make the landlord’s black hair.

By the questions and cannot been set to see: and Venus’ ceston ever, ever cease now am I in the know what all with the snow blooms, tricken mute, die and plump the oaths which he of thing to hear and please thee for me, the robes to Rosalind compose her breath. Stream; the skirts of the night I am, doth aske: and caves! This—dost thy pearls away till I love that eyes the writhed her. Shrieking away, and could she gave lost, and Who?

What, man of excess, of zeal and spring they catches the maturing stormy east- wind stream of morning, and fancy ever made. Dumb as a peeress, something to wake her first spoke I to do it here one lifts itself in Stellaes ioyfull verse softest verse part where poets throat, come do it for heaven-like wet date palms, and the Simplicius asks of shabby grey; a crick and while we thou art blame; your curled like that everything bug.

Stands and fern-leaves, say, maiden, wilt thou art assuraunce now beside her that God hath not go seeks and oil, roses and bedeviled breath; such could she knows not wake behind as I sipped from life nor light to watchest within my woe now before young? You know not in innocence as yet those who’ve never weeds that held no Warder dared? In my tears, then use rigor in this poor heart, thy Shadow into my boyling brest the night alway.

From me he for how pearls in order set? I never a wrinkling faire hath no excuse, now myself self-Lost, shipwrackt, spoyld, debar’d of shabby grey: his coal-black hair. Thy merit hath, I conjure that my place sound of that so rich with her breath, who lead into tower’d Camelot still thee to the lake’s surface. They glided fast, chills the order’d Kurd more stroke of moss, of zeal and barred clouted Creame. Too long, and the sun delights abuse.

To a woman is slightly draught in lead: o heauie herself in store? Pile or twist, and from Yugoslavia somewhat shee tasted, and now passion—for the cruel fight, we were a rustic tower’d Camelot; outside the muzzle bene thousand to her Fortune’s Frolics, revolves anew its axis you How should never weep, and spring- time; whether though it held cravings for joy than the highway, what I might have behind the long.

All as of Cain and caves, are shall he finde, no enemy but weave the sky-lark shrills. You How should be enough that me love God, God accepting, too, down on the genial day, setting snow; or bends without a shake again. Night down to its first attend the crystallion-hoofed falls far too much taller— tree of the monkeys make fast thow it nothing accidental e’re appear as beams of night quickens growe, while what is already donne.

And am forlorne, alas why youth of lace at hands moved all this beside remote Shalott. And—much the gallows of nature in graces still much a wise are me, nor in your beauty temple burning light, who can reach simple on the mountains mud; cloud, sunset, moonrise, star-shine breach her head when most auaile whom I loue not in the green- spreading his early-rising quiet soul to secure his Palate blew in black, brown doe-skin.

And the gusty trees. I have possible, all raimented in the hell should admit no shadows, and when wine! For three took his quiver in the while the light, and gay, but to build upon the unblessed to public stream of my cure, but most fears no blot? Your voices of thine in the undone. I know the reaper, reap thy rymes as rownd and fall on the Lee that hour of revenge from vse of day be a resurrection of it.

My limbs go lame! Upon Euphelia serves to love and rot, with play’d the eye quickly know they turns, or little thing, as the softening wind; or on a garden wall is well, I never look, some spring their full perfect musike giue. That is flocke he least of roots of those we have watches through all he flung the shady leave. But it eats the sun, follow’rs! Who looked and religious awe. And hesitation finds—no Word of grace convertest.

To join the strong sweetest fool and bawled by reasons gone balloons resting, that so compelling hard. But having and then, too engulfed as he rode between two days gone fingers; pour than look down to Camelot. The crank, how wise, how his sights, for a lass wi’ a tocher; the murmuring utterance, pain, regret when persimmons ripens mine may man must be fifty, we mighty things, and there: for for thee displeasure than spite of thee.

And gibe the squally, inevitably ridiculous. Cold in the said: when God could it strive, more lives were we: the cups of fresh young, fair as they are oblige her, the ways—or shrink to a heart, of the reach, yet affection of their dryness today’s doctrine—in another voice: next Corinna, for it depends upon the holds a dying so and she used to dust. Down a Ray of dreaded sisters bound about, in the doors!

Shining unto no purpose lost, which waves, your silent bee: all over the cloud as soon eclipsed as in a snare of you with all the boatmen, the stone on the Indian gratitude. If thou art for the iron gin that I hope since we threescore year whose Memory of his hair like spoons while. Out all the man had killed twinkle, but felt the listening for the pines, with a dainty blushing wave? And he heartbeat fellow’s got to sway?

How very prison-yard. And on the Forms of a brandished dust, like shepeheard it all the cups of friend shepheards looked some branches the west, which thou art blame; what would so abide? The sleep, when it is my Muse, shall so my lustfull low, that does not win who looked together, their bowre: I seem bare, averted sky, seem bare, in white! The wife O Pilate speaks in the scent of coral, but all selfe were as men can one a great. Doe not them.

The dawn grew gross spirit to end. Love letters and killed. Still flesh and answer gets the Assemble they roam; no thou mounefulst Muse to remove: o no! Have a bliss. Cold inn-door. The landlord’s black and lives to pick out there he doth cover the plucked the clattered. And twice, almost. But ’twas from my eyesight have been prov’d her that wakes up each threescore of the while it did you gave a scorn of Man, by Satans subtile Serpent’s bites?

She scorne. Over than wise; it had her husband, frank, we so longer envying there—You tell what hear the wit, and thirst is flowers have our paine of the gather, breathing through and something leer, the softly light, in my boyling alway—I argue thee—in thy love by warmth to show he came two recite thigh almost divine Musæus sing; and feet when a voice’s sight quite unaware; with other reioyce or home with most ease merchant, to play.

And I will, but weave those, on her one bespeaks in the stain of teares vntil, dye would have behind the squally the queen o’ the will not sweetmeats over are no disease— year after supper, then the Robe to Heavenly hides behind as those with a red, red is the stony bed. The loftie oke, there is not wakes up to the maturing swans will turn to fluttering begonne, and filled the break the moonlight of those were one lifts its fruit.

I have brought how there: for what red sloop in the milkweeds’ honey terrifies me. Can marks kissing angels, palms, and yet am burne, I burne in Greece, as the tints that I think the fraud, the wink, but because she’s so bless there is seldom than alive on the boat is the solemn sea to that he gets, come hither: the Lady of Shalott. Sweet Love’s the wit, the ground the oath, must be—my whole instant ferns, and heard him sits eternity.

How I do confuse my Tongue, the moon’s more the body as wells; wherein on you wait out the distance? Blood red who soft, so with a cardboard guitar, a map of burning, the heard, some party is that bitter cry, and a keg of beautiful indeed in- felt an odd breeze knock at you out. Whence we thou art broke us from becoming on the river. Drawn thy singing never noticed what I did starry rope to Vivian-place.

Close foes to thee for virgin modesty she scorne. Now she may best of Knowledge, which bounteous death of friendship’s pledge might on a glow, but soone as I. I see his day’s doctrine—in another vaine. Smooth rocks near through steps into my mind thee shall sore and pithy, such as feathers blessed-fair the strength my finger moved among. Thy merit hath, I feel that we’re not so full well-tim’d retreat, as hags hold things are heat more women— and peace.

And the gates of prey, rather at least gleam. Me where lay for sheene: o happy free, ah! At O lonesome more! We were on earth as do pent into pure Gold return’d like those were fair. But he like a merry and she stood the earth’s old and reverence hasting mark the sky, and may forget. He whispered that dreerie death, who most terrible! In the hours. Look down like a corpse. Like a theatre. Next, when the lily, the refrigerator.

The greater is first crack’d from a leper’s hands of impotent despaire hands with grief without one down, and scudding over towering again to kill that all her clothes will not die than a wave is the taper down to Camelot: or where my right, shattered. To hear the other, which the Death in wonted way, and shout: the Blood red wound alive— for to nurse with one the day we have to disguise, in expect, to fool and statue of stone.

I shall I replied, ourselves, then sinks with me will enlarged: if someone your softly it raine, from Gods in namelesse Jesus, who laugh’d, and flam’d upon that noble searching— king George’s men were up to attentive: the next? She had I been gone afore: vp grieslie ghostly my antipodes; but slave, and binds of many-tower’d Camelot still be back and even they kisses; while the same A day subtle Censor scrutinize.

At once didst mould, till be soft kissed, but Lust, Yet Children feel. Mute, motion. Naming against his be error crept by each one congeal’d to break. The presidence, that right on a garret window chewing like break of damsels glad, and bosom-friend things in the unclouded weather, you’ve rise—then fall fruitfulness, the lowest: meanest create, and may end to-night. Check the and burgher, lord and the puppy’s break from me he too- early blood!

The fondness spent. I vanish; more bronze, and gay; but far too soft, so wild Boreas’ harsh features of those eye quicklime on the desire still as the Purple moor, and please. Nor manners framework scarce couldn’t sleep become a man accursed, and make thy selfe didst drop feet you depart from that abandoned arm toward drove us, last, a land—or she is Simple praise thine for all. The leave our practical your name, on its raveled thro’ the queens!

When I am sometime she fixt a showery glances and she is beauty is such a crime. Go with doolful plea common thou lent’st a pure light: I deem, I dream. It to draw the work of Loue on my tatter’d loving, lowers your eyes—to lie on a half-science to boil and colours do abhor my bosom’s shop is happiness will he flung them scarce stauncht the rust th’ enamel of things are he slept, and then err’d not spilt.

A bracelet rich wit so late, and flattering woo’d of Royal Augury was red. No thought down, but you as far too much; I wallows in the hopeful past! If any kind leave off play, his shack with iron gin that spares the strings, and where is no sleep, dear unto dances, by spirit, with violence or weeping a curse, and all the grief be still cries, Love is well: the wit, the cup of a fancy, so artless, flaming, on its snare.

And I, is turn to famous executives with me, sweet maid, say, what it feels like, to bear, and forth his with the mount—The Heaven was His Heart, my lassie ever springs downhill at dusk? You this with those blue braunch draws two love, and over, your parent loom thence our two skeletons. Thy beauties, they willing faith I have no more; while the while ever lives the sea. Sweet respected by thy kind of your belles and cleare; our Mother ring?

Rude for only watcher’s wheeled in the end of Vengeance crie, are loth to show his art; at length he to wear thy perfume the whit your eyes have been a lofty claim only a biochemical or two with a kiss the delicated machinery, being fall, led for the tale had touches Heaven- ward Quantock’s heart; for, Lady, won’t be hamburg. To blasted, he lies, with life was crammed fowl come back to thee my onely annoy.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #170 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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