#wheat singer speaks

[laiqualaurelote]

First Lines

Tagged by @nostalgicatsea (forever ago but I'm only getting to my tags now). Thank you!

Rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10 (or however many you have) posted fics and see if there’s a pattern!

speak easy, swing hard

When the shots rang out in the Arc, the band didn’t stop playing. It was twelve minutes into the new year at a Stark speakeasy and the joint was jumping, the floor crammed with gin baby socialites essaying the Charleston, mobsters clustered around tables, petty thieves circling and dipping into the pockets of the unwary; when the bullets started flying the crowd screamed and sought to scatter but the bandleader barely blinked, just led his crew full tilt into another chorus of ‘I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My Sister Kate’ while the singer, a svelte Sokovian songbird in a shimmering scarlet number, sidestepped a bullet that buried itself in a piano leg and kept right on crooning, All the boys in the neighbourhood know she can shimmy and it’s understood, while all hell broke loose on the dance floor.

well-versed in etiquette, extraordinarily nice

“You must know, Mr Crowley, that this is to be my last job,” said Jane.

all the men and women merely players

In with the wind blows the news that the Players are coming to town. 

constant as a northern star (constantly in the dark) 

Sachiko Crimm meets Ted Lasso for the first time in a Lidl.

The Lady With The Recorder Asks The Questions

“You took out the line about the threesomes, didn’t you?” 

ain't practical, a world you can't touch

Just a whole lot of aiming, he’d told Cornelia once. But it’s Martha Myers who misses.

maybe everything that dies someday comes back

“He don’t look like much,” said the client. “You sure he’s the chap we’re after?”

a song that will keep sky open in my mind

We knew Eli was back because of the baby. We could hear it crying clean across the wheat fields. 

can't start a fire without a spark 

It was a whole thing when Eddie Munson and Chrissy Cunningham blew town together and ran off to start a rock band.

A Gentleman's Guide To Love And Piracy

Day seven of my return to the high seas, wrote Stede in his journal. Since Lucius was no longer around to take dictation, the journal existed only in his head. Morale is low, I will not lie.

Patterns - I'm a big fan of in media res (it worked for Homer and it works for me) and so I like to start in the middle of things. I'm also trained to write hooks for people with short attention spans, so my first lines tend to be crunchy. The one exception is the first on the list, which is from speak easy, swing hard, the 1920s Prohibition-era Avengers AU I wrote for @nostalgicatsea as part of @marveltrumpshate. I wanted it to evoke the wild, chaotic tempo of a hot jazz number (something like the intro to this) so most of it is a pile-up of a long run-on sentence, and the writing continues in this fashion until Tony shows up to calm things down, whereupon the paragraphs go back to being a brief couple of lines each. I learnt this trick from seeing how translators handle action sequences in wuxia novels.

Tagging: @leupagus, @themardia, @auntieclimactic, @nagia-pronounced-neijia, @eisoj5, @swallowtailed, @justplainsalty, @bropunzeling, @st-clements-steps, @sagiow and anyone else who'd like to do this!

#procrasktination #ted lasso #miss fisher's murder mysteries #mfmm #the english #tag game #stranger things #marvel cinematic universe #the avengers #good omens #jane austen #ofmd #our flag means death spoilers

[evilios]

There has been, indeed, a prominent cult of Apollo in Sparta - especially in the town of Amykles (Αμύκλες) with its Amyklaion, a cult center of Apollo’s worship. Around 6 kilometers to the South from the main Spartan settlement, described by Thucydides as a conglomerate of villages, there stood Throne of Apollo with a high wooden cult statue, now unfortunately lost.

Most of the imagery of its reconstructed glory comes from the descriptions by Pausanias who speaks on its alleged appearance and its creator, Bathykles (Βαθυκλής) of Magnesia.

Artistic depiction by Ludwig Ruhl.

Artistic depiction by Theodor Pyl.

Thankfully, some of the Ancient coins have preserved the approximate image of the cult statue at the site.

Depictions of the statue on Roman-era Spartan coins.

As the statue was said to have been set over the grave of Hyacinth, it thus served as both the pedestal for offerings and the altar of Apollo’s lover, celebrated during the festival of Hyacinthia (Ὑακίνθια). It lasted for three days, with the first day being devoted to the veneration of Hyacinth’s death; the second was spent feasting over his joyful rebirth, and the third one was the day of mysteries we have little record of. Xenophon, Athenaeus, Didymus, and others, such as Ovid (who calls it “the procession of Hyacinthia”), have noted the importance of the celebration to Spartans.

Here’s a quote about how vital the festival was to Spartans:

It was the unvaried custom of the men of Amyclae to return home at the Hyacinthia, to join in the sacred paean, a custom not to be interrupted by active service or absence from home or for any other reason.

— Xenophon, Hellenica (trans. by H. G. Dakyns)

Here’s description of the celebration: Day one:

<…> Spartans observe the ritual of the Hyacinthia for a period of three days, and because of the mourning which takes place for the death of Hyacinthus they neither wear crowns at the meals nor introduce wheat bread, nor do they dispense any cakes, with their accompaniments, and they abstain from singing the paean to the god, and do not introduce anything else of the sort that they do at other festivals. On the contrary, they eat with great restraint, and then depart.

Day two:

<…> in the middle of the three-day period there is held a spectacle with many features, and a remarkable concourse gathers which is largely attended. Boys with tunics girded high play the lyre or sing to flute accompaniment while they run the entire gamut of the strings with the plectrum; they sing the praises of the god in anapestic rhythm and in a high pitch. Others march through the theatre mounted on gaily adorned horses; full choirs of young men enter and sing some of their national songs, and dancers mingling among them go through the figures in the ancient style, accompanied by the flute and the voice of the singers. As for the girls, some are carried in wicker carts which are sumptuously ornamented, others parade in chariots yoked to two horses, which they race, and the entire city is given over to the bustle and joy of the festival. On that day they sacrifice very many victims, and the citizens entertain at dinner all their acquaintances and their own servants as well. Not one misses the festival; on the contrary, it so happens that the city is emptied to see the spectacle.

— Athenaeus, Deipnosophistae (trans. by C. B. Gulick)

The Amyklaion was not, of course, only “alive” during the celebration of Hyacinth’s death and rebirth. Offerings were given on other occasions too and included spearheads, swords, javelin heads, arrowheads, weapons, and inscribed armor and weapons for the God. The God Apollo of Amyklai was a war Deity, seeing that He was depicted armed and armored - an image of might of the state. It is possible that the Spartan processions were processions of armed men, in their full battle glory. Apollo had multiple other warrior cults across Laconia, and at the very least a few more major celebrations, aside from Hyacinthia, are recorded: Karneia (Κάρνεα), Maleateia (Μαλεάτεια), Gymnopaidia (Γυμνοπαιδίες).

Thucydides reports that upon signing a treaty called Peace of Nikias, the treaty that ended the first part of the Peloponnesian War, two stelas were to be established: one in Athens, and one near the statue of Apollo Amyclaeus. With that in mind, it’s important to remember that the festival of Hyacinthia bore political significance, too.

Sources:

🏺 Amyklaion: Amykles Research Project 🏺 Hellenica by Xenophon (trans. by Dakyns) 🏺 Deipnosophistae by Athenaeus (trans. by C. B. Gulick) 🏺 Sanctuaries and traditions in Ancient Sparta 🏺 The Peace of Nicias

#APOLLO 🌞 #HISTORIA 📔 #This is a repost of something I impulsively deleted before. #ancient greece #ancient laconia #ancient sparta #apollo worship #amyklaion #greek gods

[dream-meister-translations]

THE TALE OF FOOD

SPICY DICED CHICKEN - STORY #1

━

"Ding a-ling...Ding-a-ling..."

SPICY DICED CHICKEN : Hello, this is Kongsang Restaurant pleasure to serve you, what would you like to order we have many excellent dishes, pan-fried, deep-fried, sauteed, boiled, or simmered...

Hitting the speaker button, Spicy Diced Chicken begins to reel off the marketing copy that he was struggling with just two days prior.

Thanks to Spicy Diced Chicken's arrival, Kongsang Restaurant's already-excellent business has soared to new heights, with many fans getting in the way of operations.

To respond to the influx of customers, Spicy Diced Chicken has to accept Master's suggestion for him to take charge of the takeout hotline.

??? : Ah...Uh, are you Dicey?

The middle-aged male voice on the other end of the call sounds rather guarded, but Spicy Diced Chicken's eyes immediately light up in recognition.

SPICY DICED CHICKEN : Are...Are you Uncle Wheat!?

UNCLE WHEAT : Hahaha, your ears are still as good as ever!

SPICY DICED CHICKEN : Did something happen for you to call, Uncle Wheat? Hold on, you called because you heard I was back?

UNCLE WHEAT : Haha, yes. I read in the papers you were back at the restaurant, so I decided to try my luck and call...

The voice on the other end trails off, thus Spicy Diced Chicken thinking Uncle Wheat is acting strange, sits up and speaks gently.

SPICY DICED CHICKEN : Uncle Wheat, do you...Have something you need my help with? You know all you have to do is ask.

UNCLE WHEAT : Oh, no. It's nothing. It's just that my shop's about to close down. I remember you used to love the Sichuanese cuisine I made and I wondered if...

UNCLE WHEAT : You'd like to come by to eat one last time before I shutter things for good.

SPICY DICED CHICKEN : ...

After hanging up, Spicy Diced Chicken realizes that someone had been staring at him all this time. He seems rather sheepish upon noticing this interloper's worried expression.

SPICY DICED CHICKEN : Did you hear my call?

SPICY DICED CHICKEN : Yes...Uncle Wheat hired me at his Sichuan cuisine restaurant before I debuted overseas.

SPICY DICED CHICKEN : At that time, I had to train while making a living and it really created a lot of extra work for Uncle Wheat. But his support was unwavering despite it all...

SPICY DICED CHICKEN : But now, that restaurant with so much heart in it, is about to close down...

SPICY DICED CHICKEN : I'd planned on taking you there to taste Uncle Wheat's food for yourself when we could get away, but I never expected...

OPTION 1 : "Regardless, let's go take a look." SPICY DICED CHICKEN : You're going with me? To take a look at where I used to work? SPICY DICED CHICKEN : Of course. I'm overjoyed you care about me so much.

OPTION 2 : "Then let's make sure you have no regrets" SPICY DICED CHICKEN : Make sure I have no regrets? How? You're going with me? SPICY DICED CHICKEN : We've got to go and see before we make up our minds... SPICY DICED CHICKEN : You're right. With an all-rounder idol and multi-tasking Master of Kongsang, we'll find a way!

━

Uncle Wheat's restaurant is located on Chinese Food Street downtown. It is unassuming compared to neighboring buildings boasting neon signs and posh fixtures.

A spicy scent upon a blast of steam hits us before we enter. The hustle and bustle outside vanishes when we close the wooden doors. Replaced by a reassuring tranquility.

UNCLE WHEAT : Hey, Dicey! You're here!

SPICY DICED CHICKEN : Uncle Wheat, what's this about closing shop you mentioned over the phone?

Uncle Wheat smiles wryly at Spicy Diced Chicken's query and points at the door before replying quietly.

UNCLE WHEAT : You've seen for yourself the mix of bars, fast food, and live music cafes that have sprung up in the area.

UNCLE WHEAT : Young people would rather go to flashy new places like that than my boring old restaurant. The restaurant opposite to us has hired a popular resident singer and business has taken off...

Uncle Wheat shakes his head as he looks about his restaurant, his words full of reluctance.

UNCLE WHEAT : To boost revenue, Food Street's decided to hold a popularity contest and all those who fail to meet the mark will have to move away from here...

UNCLE WHEAT : But I'm old and haven't got the energy to start again from scratch, so I've decided to throw in the towel.

SPICY DICED CHICKEN : Uncle Wheat, I can help you with this.

SPICY DICED CHICKEN : I'm no longer the old Spicy Diced Chicken. If I say the word, my fans will help you win the contest! Trust me and my fans.

Spicy Diced Chicken walks over to Uncle Wheat, his gaze filled with conviction.

SPICY DICED CHICKEN : Such delicious Sichuanese cuisine should not disappear from Food Street.

Uncle Wheat looks at Spicy Diced Chicken, a proud smile spreading across his face. But he turns the kind gesture down.

UNCLE WHEAT : Dicey, you're a superstar now. I know you could throw the odds in favor of this rundown joint with your popularity.

UNCLE WHEAT : But this isn't fair. You can't stand at the door of my restaurant and attract business for me forever.

UNCLE WHEAT : I'd rather customers remember the food I serve than the star here.

UNCLE WHEAT : I know you mean well, but I can't accept your kindness.

#The Tale Of Food #ttof #ttof story #ttof script #Otome #食物语 #食物語 #食物语新马版 #spicy-diced-chicken

[kousaka-ayumu]

Meet Sonomi Hoshiakari AKA Cure Forest, who's a student at NRC and apart of Pomefiore.

Age: 16

Height: 150cm

Theme: nature

Team: Midnight Rose Precure(Hero Team)

Moonlight Bloom(Band)

Position: Lead singer(Moonlight Bloom)

Leader(Midnight Rose Precure)

Dorm: Pomefiore

Personality:

Unlike all other Pink PreCure leaders(other than Nodoka and Tsubomi) , she's the only one who wasn't energetic but rather calm and quiet due to being sheltered from the world for 15 years now, she only has her sister Fuyumi and her older brother Akio.

At first she was pretty shy and often hides behind her friends's back. At times, Sonomi can be reckless and underestimate a severe situation, mainly because of her desire to protect something she considers valuable, which can cloud her judgment.

Appearance:

Sonomi has dark pink hair with pink streak that is tied in a half-ponytail.

As Cure Forest her hair turns pink and way longer that is tied up in a side ponytail.

Dorm Uniform

Sonomi's dorm uniform is similar to the rest of the Pomefiore students. Epel also wears dark-purple winged eyeshadow while in uniform. The uniform consists of a violet robe, a black button-up shirt underneath, black skirt and black and gold heeled boots.

Magic:

Unlike the other students of NRC and like her friends.

Her "Unique Magic" is called "Nature's Melody" it allows her to comucinate with nature and animals.

However in reality since she's the Guardian of Earth, she can control plants and their growth and structure. and manipulate the earth and all related materials such as paper, wood, silt, minerals, crystal, gems, sand, mud, some foods like sugar and wheat, silicon, and molten rock.

Chlorokinesis: Sonomi's primary ability is to control plants, trees, grass and manipulate their growth and structure. This allows Sonomi to use the many forms of plant life as her own personal weapons. She can summon vines from deep within the ground and use them to entangle enemies, cause flowers and other plants to bloom instantaneously, manipulate tree branches to use them as whip-like weapons, control spores and pollen, and bring plants back to life.(Yes I got it from Cornelia's page from the W.I.T.C.H wiki).

Geokenesis: the ability to control and manipulate any geologic material, such as plants, minerals, and stone as well as earth products as sugar. She has shown that she is able to set off earthquakes, tear holes in the ground, carve slabs of stone and rock from geologic sources like mountains, crags and walls, shift the terrain around her, slice through stone with her mere fingertips

Energy Blasts: Shoot bolts of pink energy from her hands

Earthquake Generation: Set off earthquakes

Ground Liquification: Carve craters into the ground

Create trenches

Earth Manipulation: Form avalanches and mudslides

Levitation: Levitate and throw stone through the use of psionic energy

Telepathic Speaking: The ability of Green-Speaking

Plant Communication: Communicate the location of vegetation

Conceptual Materialization: Use geologic material as armor

Earth Mimicry: Slice through rock, stone and steel with her bare hands

Material Teleportation: Teleport forms of earth-related materials

Trivia

Both her and Neige LeBlanche we're based on Snow White, which is ironic because Vil hated Neige and Neige's in RSA while he was close with Sonomi.

She is shown to be good at alchemy.

Like Weiss Schnee from RWBY, she's good at using her sword name "Appleflower Melody"

Unlike all other pink lead Cures(besides Nagisa/Cure Black), she's the only one who's eye color didn't change.

Unlike Cornelia from W.I.T.C.H who's totally disgusted by her Element, Sonomi appreciated her powers.

#disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x pretty cure #pretty cure #sonomi hoshiakari #cure angel #pomefiore #Midnight Rose Precure

[o-wyrmlight]

Fig. Werewolf. Chili. Rye. Parfait. Sf. Fq.

Fig's vernacular of speaking is problematic because it's harmful to people who have difficulty with word processing skills! It's so hard to know what they're saying half the time!

Werewolf needs to get over himself and go to fucking therapy or something, like god, boy, what the fuck are you doing? Either get help already or shut it and stop complaining about 'oh woe is me I don't want to hurt people awoo I'm a sad little emo dog boy'

Chili is a protagonist who is also a thief! She gets across the concept that being a thief is good to Little Timmy and I will not stand to have that influence in my child's head! I am writing a sternly-worded letter to Devsis to have her removed as soon as--

Rye needs to get over herself. It was just fucking wheat or something that was stolen, it's not like Chili came into her life and kicked her dog or something. She has such anger issues and plays it off as 'ooh I'm so cool I'm Rye look at me with this wheat in my mouth' and you know what the worst part is? She's a sheriff. Cops are evil. Cancel this bitch.

Parfait is a popular, sweet pop singer... hmm, yes, that's true. But do we know who she is in her normal day-to-day life outside of being a popstar? There HAS to be a reason she hides her identity and keeps her personal life a secret. She's obviously a piece of shit behind the scenes.

Sea Fairy is a very popular example of using a queer relationship in media to garner attention! Have you not seen how Devsis baits her as a lesbian, even though she's never given the ability to be with the lady she loves?! This is such bad and toxic representation that enforces the idea that lesbians and women aren't allowed to pursue their love, but instead have to wait for their love to come to them! In this essay, I will--

Frost Queen is a punk-ass bitch who was perfectly willing to let a child die under her watch and then send out another child on a mission that she might never have been able to return from! She didn't even tuck Sherbet into a bed to help him be more comfortable--she just LEFT HIM on the ground! She's a cold and heartless person and a child abuser!

#child abuse mention #i think #i had to think on parfait and werewolf for a hot minute but i got there in the end /j

[libidomechanica]

Listens to thee

A ballad sequence

               1

Disgrace; and I fly, to lived too     little snakes of all that sweet; but beauty’s dead brow not who     come as the faring of

right. But still I see. That Yermoloff,     or Momonoff, or Scherbatoff, or abused its tenant     of full clear as words

wouldn’t say the phrase is that extreme     verge, and alone on the least surpasse, most sweetness skies above,     below, her managed

by thy soul out the stept—then the     skies more square, when neither children nursed sort of all is, when     will be sport—of hair rising

the lyre, and left undone to     each wave often haue behote him those temper; but ye may     chance of it were fanciful;

she greened fields—and night visit.     They fear, then this. No one who dies, say of your indiscretion     seems Love is allotment

where to burdens were clever,     then my dream, as read? A voice as dry as we won’t analyse—     our strife arose, and

wipe. Ear, no false Art what if so     timid air is blood was hidden kind revell’d as wheat … it     makest watch of day and

marble, we’ll measurable Knight;     she is a morning, she saw that clean, were to say, This poor     rhymes nothing the wheels wind.

All the answer him like a gem,     and summer’s blown do but pray for the eye of having no     hear my mother without.

The year waxed very word in my     fashion. That column was gray: I laid he, I would set that     made the Rust Belt mode—work

hard, have been faithful to this, and     then do mine only dower, shall be my rival, the facts! If     it gives us ourself

being mute, who thus blanchingly,     with the grass crook. The sweetly she, without transcended but     spotte, which is many a

hero’s lot, and here one new tear     arose in poesy, unless caravan; and I loathe through     dooms of man. Yet what is

he remain! Was told their eyes of     an Italians, as the Widdowes daughter, and of it     heavens,—because I love

or a girl with treble soft as     a swallows, borne away. Is in her that have love was better     love. Listens to thee.

               2

A message sense; no summer’s sense.     A bushy brere, the damn’dest partake a truth—i say they     were so Heaven, her better

understand. And delight! Bout     the crew; in multitude, as thou art my hair no paints at     least, hail, and went by murmur

of a pistol, where abundancy     is wrong with oyster- shells: streets, after Winter common     sempstress. That in thy

dearie! Colors is thinking the     rotation, and but never collide? Who say he put then; as     the casket of seldom

commit to half of gently stroke     surprising mowers do not why, but as a Cairn Gorme, being!     This man so good,

transgresses from her breath, when others     read? Unfit to make fine a fault of silent seems he’s right     and stealing on the light.

               3

Tis torture and smiled as if she have accused me     of pain with her pillow bend; nor shall not much bigger fellow, when I heard,—all these effects     suffice what an unthrift in the

lonely men breathe mystic offices, so those cannot     skill to be loved a little waves thirstye payne. Chloris, the bed to this, all art: he still,     and faith nothings thoughts, hart root or the

lawn or up the spot he did me invite to wage,     and only she liked to epaulettes; his quiver shrunk to ’stablish danger was sowne,     warning Coronall: oliues between

border free from a drug that he did see; sweet, sweets     your eyes appeare: love, and bleed. The shock: his airy doubt itself alone, that brings of     desire, give my vocabulary.

               4

Hands and love your troupes to speak the swell; such heavy!     And it were, across the gem so small. Or glittering, and he himself so languid and     sigh, or whose destroy, record play as

the wa’; the bent to hers, to mix with Gelliflowre     of her falls to see. Very clever fair weathered, fecund, overtall singer, took you     years over; the villainton’—for Fame

sound shall because God made when first thy nation or     breath thy heart’s words would complete, but next amusement which every one to higher end than     their eyes of my bed that love, that flies

in fear Love’s no great cause a lady to ladye—love     drinke nectar mist: curst be those lips, and scarce could nothing buys for no such store, but how his     hour, and thus err, in some leers beating

sheaue, cockel for if the sepulchral gloom enough     within her kind. It is an every moving of ancient stratagems sweetest part, and     forget till the should not die. And the

chief art intense, it was certain half-moon large and     me nigger never white folks hair is first looked and for wrong her glance today—this, and     overworking out my arms in love;—she

was all others crowd confused a main of the robs     thee which evermore endear they shouldst thou wilt, but reverend and curse young, enjoy a sudden     tresses there? And witlesse Colins

owne self would surely dead; corruption leaves loneness     be, shewes loue-though ne’er forget you wilt say more endeavour. And self-substantinople.     On softer rhymes, while from an

attention,—all hope; to love, or sit, the deil a     ane wad speir young—I see, we are all, t is the matter, I am no flattering,     like the Raven, blind, her sad ears like

it toward laughter, their aim, and why to be, to Pan     his own relief! Tis—’t is he remaine, and gentlemen, yet I bare and queuing up     for the memory she loved out my

advice: you are! But a voice is out greatly more:     you have to play us. That only knows were e’er afraid. Her the braw lass made the body     has taken. By carrying sail

with ripeness ever be the watch the Shore to     shed not a treated moment sections love canonical, and lose her mither’d with me:     such for maddening sun; conspiring wind;

or on a half-reap’d full of blood was beyond the     compress, nor Lawes, and I her sight. But for loue, within the rugged rynde, and breast. Be scorns     and fry. My backward too. Our spirits

grew alone. All those who live; you would melt a harp-     strings its dose;—hers was most begin without some still to make no praises ever sing we     would obey a shade, when it grew the

ceiling rose that ends me fall sorts of blue: ’ o, Lady     of their little droops her spacious thou hast no more, and lay at all, pondering home.     A singly crown the dust. Was left both

sides that I had thrift in a sheeted water was     an every line farm is rather joys: the beastes to me as the think I should it have     done! Assault and ease: and here right it

little fellow; in fact, if he his starvation;     and Ida in them pleasant: a gentle present, with no less stroke, thou thus some discover     at there, my body has also

carried beach; three instead of as we won’t analyse—     our strife arose, and three wither’d fruit. That mourne, but so imbrace, to eat they which thing     what ends promove: for you are mute; or,

if the show of yestern impulse of my darlin’     darlin’ darling between me and weep over Endymion’s den, so that suited well, ere     men have remember’d my deepest see,

the bonie lass that can finde, cupids knot to rather     more clear fortune’ was in humble duty born a woman is better the daunce more     A slice or nature said: juan was quite?

               5

The terrible month, your mind, and     may take you all? You must be thought, I will teach youth, all used     the last line of us—

a watches. See him sword. Along;     and darkest shall sum my count—should I begin joy was the     train: but their mere Sense and

delighted match, glance inquired,     Who was the foster-babes of love you do letters rage hys     madding mythological

it was waxin’ weary heart     breaking a boat and express, deigns to this, and thanks me no     more doth sides me not, thought

of woes; your beauteous plight, she had     some conceit; with dew; nor fragrant bank of that he had dwell,     each to chaos, they looked

and after they daucen deffly,     and corruption lack! The brave: and melon, yellow smoke that     says Shakspeare the dirt, for

thee. Which wound? That we are all wear     that’s my Julia’s breaking out my little, but I must be     that fame much in your voice

less be, bearing sun on the empress     lying, kind into thee, my day; then Lambro bade her     beauty’s pride, his mourning

go. Juan and sick withal: so through     our veins, even as might to be market streets of the dews     of Hate, and of pain, but

sought to breakfast, she turn’d his madness     was his pleasure first stare, glare, from my mother than     nominal, to swarm the nymphs,

thy life of joy; praising din past     reason knows; yet never feelings of the next ocean and     sorrow that you deeply,

and look’d up, amaze. A flow just     man. All the Pomp of murmur of a turtle, as that he     canker vice content you?

               6

That minds admit impediments.     For summer shake thy vertue triumphant, and thou hast passion,     yea, I was an instant clime! So strongly sting voice to lose     for fame—without spoilt children’s eyes dart scrutinizing snow.     Though I must lose hers for

it a heavenly touching prow,     and pity—let me, then put his voice, and sing and kings     peacefully harder to me, and some, in fields—and afternoon     who sang another. And there is completely weep my whole     bone, your crimson clouds all

his gold ingots, like that clean an     angel mind. Him, too, I find virgins bene dryed vp for     hither have founde? On the fruit of love, all pleasure passe     his worth which she doth sleeping sale was Juan, till actions, and     I may e’en gae hang. My

trembling Prickets of the Knight, and     dinna cry. And fall who shall my hemisphere, too—it might’st     flame. They beheld their flight! He found thy morn and having to     Spain and forbeare his whispered legs in a glass eye. She has     constant spring-tides from

the moon has hidden in things, and     as the night shall me from that’s done in which young heart were transport,     gentleman. As the stept—then happy hour, what avail’d     for a Princesse beneath it will she musicks mirth, a good     poem,—for shall flow, a

madness to each. As if to show     false fire I espy walking how earth after terme, my little     dreams that made of. Of Tityrus his country for the     bleeding, now pondering like trickling were: adieu my life     withdrew. Of the flint, as

dart on his Thebes, and flowers: and     a dewy splendid the sharp, on whose worthy of celestial     bodies how the skies, wherein he all-seeing eyes seem’d     a poet’s occupation? My morn and where never agree     the real as a wary,

cool old vices spent, my spring-     tides from my Maw. I’m so entangl’d and brown till air sae     smart, if that hour and of the darkness made the restless praise:     glory earth could be only, silenced him with rainbows, in     royal husband in these,

save breach wave is the same skin doth     scornfully, to live in motion just, no doubt of all! My     deepe furrow speakes for known the mark was his own long the realm’s     starling; why then presage; incertain I love I know why     they han before now echo,

assonance; his Thebes, and your     head as if there, by Stella oft sees to show his count and     in front of our memory: but where rivulet at her     at all. Feels soft, a heavy day of war, ’ but naked of     custom. His motion. And

smiles; and tears, which she made through rather     talk. Then, eu’n of ioyes that she’llsay or done, is pleasant     capital of pain with thee all these noble, her sire’s story     of a coterie. It make love rows, my bowre, that cheerful,     were lies, which will know

its bad forget it should be still     possible and day, like some leers on one singen sooth, thro’     all these effects sufficient reasons should be—a lion’     then unconfined been to her neighbourhood, nor all the birds.     Leads for pearly graceful

bow, as bold as Daniel in the     lightes, the bed to thee to me:—the bed. Besides Platonical,     because more fancie feede hearken slowly, since, absence     is, in her better, be lucky together bread or that     I should farewells. And made

of us ever been; they could     not tell forget some ruffled roof like the chaffe for me. Tis     true mind, have the shall vertue triumphant specie can, more thatch o’er     the disappoint we can explain myself to home     He blush, and half your fair.

               7

If you and me, curled once I freeze.     But as for my heartache. Bid me to reap hell, power was     warrior’s coldly. Just now

they can not with the unquiet scene;     these greater than life’s race. A better Resolution—is     more ice, and kisses swift.

Not how, but each lov’d Stella euer     he betraide, wi’ Since the fled to behold; last day!     Would, I doubt I am.

               8

I have treason—Reason hunted, by Death’s neighbor.     All impulse of night waves which should mingle life has rooted in love. A thousands we tooke     song and battery, drawn by the

Phlegethontic rill! Would trance,—well I know they beheld     a spoil I thinkes the grandame Nature of a new how its lipless ample that     Colinet. I have to entranced in like

here is to guides mething tone with the universe?     Strain, like mountains save a fire and which Eve so mix’d with a joy is but a wall, your cart,     driven so wild flowers shalt find. To

the gray sea and cherish no less real. Sweet look’d on     board her feet which truth; and we dreams, on his most precious light, how Phoebus thrill often lie     deepest see, doe not doomed to be the

hardest father spacious methods t is but he     came fervente? Food she blush of brass or hail they were none common sempstress without knowledge,     which, entomb’d the window. He robe doth

frame would be torn. That you permit you both the best     bears it out the women as green like to trail alone cure, like sunny glad to know how     my grave will to disappear, tis pity

Nature self being soul out there. In many     rest’?—Nothing my heart wouldn’t say thus gan he learnd of pain—even Voltaire’s, and to     Where walking on the dawn was natural.

               9

But, Tibbie, I haunt of the crueltie     farre they had been faithful vein; but I will sink where new milk     o’er silks were gone for who tries? Which are the must ransom me.     Was not say the had thou stil, and faith marble figure, and     always scorch through chill blast

the turn’d her to ask her, it should     look’d on her eye doth make her to enjoy. Was like life’s dry     cork, and the auspices of am thought; and some fine words,     all the sun a shiver’d weed, of small gnats mouth opens four     daughters, be’t in her in

you and something to bathe youth and     been her arms in awful that they are at first in your mind.     Now wee make blunting bloom the most I will to be senses,     or Melancthon, which now it is just the lecture, that’s done     your great, like Fairy Queene,

hye you come, and walk the seraphim,     the listen’d to rave, and calling not pay for a new     acquaintance on his fair of the water under a broken     my beclowded storm, over Endymion will me sooner     had past reason selfe

lies a sort of my hardly could     melt a hair away from her feel my faces. Moss look’d upon     his, now my life and she wept to turn around shadow,     Cynara! Lie withdrew his large dark cloud the Sultan, and     owns the falling, and high—

each broken sky. Thus is deadly     darte. Is when she faith; I love these press’d with the young man, nor     night have to long ere throng, and chain’d, as tedious, preacherly     heavy sleeping like wags new got to say just buriest     the raging fyre, that you

should but several strings are foole     I oft sees the woo’d of the vnwary sheep are less lie     alone on the ornament off the dead, ere tyranny?     And taken within my rhymes, who is not in each endear     the world is chaunting blasted

frame, and my woes with thee against     a warm lake. Ocean an angry asp, there will repay,     for though ice burning to depend: and hard to rave, and nature     of a shade alone survey, forgot, the Dead, and arm’d     for some to live and flowers

your yeare drawn cripples the core;     And how sweet self so late both your love. My husband has a     tomb. Of their steadfast? Unseen with rigorous eye too fondly     on her neare they are, or captain jewelled me of     me: always remember

you add to these great rate. Go tell     thy looks, her wi’ a kiss, I put my arms in awful fold     embrace; for laik o’ gear ye lightly let me not how, and     singen sooth, through that aperture become to hear my sisters     twittered in the

Rauen of Love, the formed, and walk     into mischaunce mought her at night and loued lasse forlorn, and     faces, especially of his laye of faithful vein; but     I want too, vs in the tree fell into the sun and     singular She is fled;

and looking of Destiny house     of the measure than when shee is more him sworder, took the     blow; and sick of an inspired, how dull redeem from my     Injury, thou may pick out shooting sheaue, cockel for that     kind be sad. Is like the

glue that just notes, if we misses     swift I wandred heretofore: the delightfully I ring     of life, just like Pyrrho, on a heaven that keep by child     of yield. I pass that colour a traveller on deep, the     fair-faced Lanskoi. But you

may; take me to resign thy     proportional to myself she dreaming even that he could     remember me; you used to me, ah lette me in. Of midnight     I remember me when Pegasus seem to bear traps     for the ship! Who say just

man; which God hath she have examined,     it might forbad, but now, the Sunne betrays but made the     next morning wan and glorious part that brings my bright routes,     surmounts thou’s fair desire, give me to hustle in     pondering him too; you

wastefull brown, her visage. Though     Amaryllis dancer, much more true calm. Is perjured, as my     bridal night did dwell the right, I feele the middling snow.     As if born a womanhood and the scorn; her to happen’d     to be; or let her many

know. Of all the destiny     convulsed at made a mile of Fate resist: curst be he     I was in clay, the meant. The rigour to exact of gold     ingots, like to her; and there will die of delightful land     their lee—another. By

child is censured by that whene’er     was his prey, as will let me because of my handsome limb     and pain, but fix’d all my pretty follie greeting, that pity,     and course the light to play hard as her blue eyes of that our     cover. But cease to me.

               10

So much you all? Each day, more can     kill. And his God-knows-what: for none, yet shee florish bloosmes     that seem’d turned over as the his worth, a good to shining     he dying faces Love die young flare understood still,     attending or beaten way

their mates do not less in t: and     much admiring the black eyes already, known themselves into     certain we walking.— In vain—in vain—in vain essay’d     in a cave; and hollow, but I was she talk’d of thou art     now fayre? And mammoths, and

mire, scheming ransackt heart. With     cloaths on, when added sense and touch the breath, bleed away, the     file of a happy show! Had dwells such as any reason     of the mind the rocks. Yet thee possible to dwell upon     me for peace which best bed.

               11

You are stripped, lovely Davies. To     suppose him stand my own dear brunette company, and the     theaters, to pull downward,

a warm leaden she had either     Alexander crossed long plume, waving, and then did him     in a day of the

presently it was certain that Life’s     great eyes away my dominion: now my shepherds unlike     other summer’s barely

the solar orbit run, but to     life and spin, and pausing as they are like flowers, illumine     us! And breake more.

               12

Strain of her tremendous tears) dry.     Responds,—as if with my absence, with case; for shame; my eyes     it easier formall rockets of every Christmas game:     althought thy death descend

that I forget till not made this     candid thou hast thou wilt be sayles, which makes the coachman thou,     to what was uncertain of her blue eyes, was not die, the     Pomp of must endure till

action, and adored with his age,     yet look’d dose at thy dear Conversely property and tuned     it vnto her; and water love to elder ladies, say of     yore. And also did Miss

Protasoff the dared not moves from     thy reverence of the moon singing desire; how soon     or late he trod, he fourth placed illicit free, through destroys     most sweet; the scaffolds thee

forsweare, as it malingered     upon her wo; yet ne’er forget, or else to lead to be     recital was once adventures we die. Whom thee, and ward:     I thanke your lovely, Woman

fair, not starte, and inscrutable     the first approach Love’s head grown Latmian steep, and dear object     of gold ingots, like a parish school boys loved the yellow     forest wyde, with case;

but how her begot such for a     Prince of trust, enjoy’d no more, who ruine am within the     long ago was interline withstood by. Out of the sum     could not lose who ne’ertheless

the lingered, fecund, overtall     forget it is so good, not her, Take me to this little     mould, the music and touch on rough, and a man lean     interest, teach others childhood,

nor hours, will be wiser Muses     all, a thousand day; that tilted tiny house is hoarse     and Juan sprung from the rich a one; but the patiently did     see; sweete reward fate which

of our temple when shall of timely     taken to your selves, cloud them cruel, not to be those then     majestic figured in your daughter, their brevity to     come too quiver, and yet

all particulate by pearls. Turns     that cocking could be out them, so intensity of writing     the winnowing a paradox become movements you     to die for punishment?

               13

Even for so correct an arm!     I at length discloses: but, for a kiss, and what a strange,     strange charms of fearful means new: you’ve supp’d furrowes one, settling     a boat and modest grace of all belli’-thou art so     sordid and shadow’d the

best, but spares that euer last day! Or     broken her whom he slew. How lonely downe on they are in     one profession find thine eies, that surfaces that hearts first     and I will but at the rivulets dance was not much     enquired of the wall she

stept—then Nature former, underground,     which makes dayly mone, was taught to go althought but one     poore worth while Cupid, hauing me, his God-knows-what: for the proved     how vain by thy golden age, yet when the roots and not speak     of the appeal says I

long vine creed and we dream change. My     sheep, leaf and prove’ ’tis Pope’s phrase, beautiful and so a woman     like Moses, other& father turn it in airy lusty     days and cast hem out, as tedious argument of     every vain. Power to

ask his face, his or throat, in mossy     found himself and perfumèd garment’s coil: they could’st there can     say at leaves, whose who building angrily in my father’s     hair was my thigh and light his write; write, but read in the kind     of children still welcome

againe is spredde, it was free, they     call, and I hae seene, or copper—the delight go far, I     hold handmaids bore because he could not sound! His mask of me:     and nothing mynd is death that in the distance avails to     shed and weeks, but like the

confess that evenings hardly heart     is burning from your fair imperial trade of maybe     like an imbecile shepheards Oaten reede, such all kisses     on a sea the boat?—For he had return, I am the     dirt, for a map doth stay!

Its back. The lose who like, that I     dare gain’d to die and shoue, brake ship! And thou art no lesse quiet     their mates do show nature’s coffee spoons; I know that long     shoulder of stranger! As if the worst cause than the notes; and     touch you bout the bed to

look into please, they smote her, it     should die, that column. She saw that kind which fell she made of     fire, ring retrograde of human hour dear little month, your     eyes to dilate with youth and has always had that his eyes     or dies; and her, that cypress-

tree: or bid me despair. Is     like a bed to the women as their images on tempest     to playe: the world’s fresh number’d my deepest in woods, hands     one with their price must rhyme with her disowns they bound no spot,     and now the nothing the

shocks my days seen! Or explain enough     to mix in thing is man? As for me, I am here.     And call gentle closure of Virgins, that have acted to     them in the first and so for only knows the little Lambes     ytorne? And marble

figure, if it will live in that     whene’er for the great authors! Until I search’d. I bow’d fu’     low unto the things about in thou, but like Pyrrho, on     a sea rage of love, repeat. Inspiration did him whome     the floor, but, not to brydle

loue doth come at, is light is     laye of fault, thoughts, chaste matron- like a mermaids singly unkind     be singer, dance may heart is but pages might upon     the literary rabble: where half turns that Star Chambers     of endure, and fleets and

if I dream a little charm betweene,     o seemly sighs and walked with rhyme to haue gathered over     and birds: pleasure thou kenst, that look her the world was not     seem’d taking a party for the unmilked weighed enough     those pamphlets, catering

and and then tender you all other     afield it was you as me. We’ll sculpture of youth went     yesterday. From thy look sae high. And balmy eve; and mammoths,     and fresh and glories curious, unless praise then presume?     You probably don’t think

warm lake. Thou hast thou, beauty fall;     the minister mothers’ voices never agree the thrilling     starre. Then back when we go, and yet can our joys, or forward     as his dust, but dearest, but small worth which runs not of     the greatest grace of it,

all-damning glances in patterns     on an English green-painted sheep are laid by all his later     yeare, not for his constancy and wind, that every jolt—     and made the truth be together, fluid,     I have pledges of all!

               14

The loftiest mind hath in it anew     revive our Liberate, the muttering in different     purple gracious of all, I shall not pay for a travellers,     ’ but facts are not on your wrists of silver their rains, and     beautiful thing else Fire!

               15

A minute past still the please their merriment, he     shelf, so I won my knees; and the sense— besides, he begot such a thief. Not I, ’ he said     little, but i just man to removed.

               16

At her answers were apace, and     caught the hot blowes the lock—and love that dark eye might have     known a wailful choir

hair not act ill to be Italians     nickname mule’, a half- deserts scorn’d like a cedar tree     in sunny glad to stood,

and like old her sublimest     attractive dower; but I waste a worldly bustle of blood in     this gives us ourselves

into this, he was not move, and     now we’ll roam that is not sweetest air. As love forgot much,     have been her care na by.

               17

With her extreme, rude, when the treated     me who had stopp’d to a summer’s rain his pity—let     me be but i just don’t

know;—I wish to look on these nation.     Poet tuck away in each other by this fate he     made then this orient

wherein the had no pulse, that is     not fed so will be true the way did strips from mere braceleted     and moisten’d with

such examples shows the green and     died as necessary; for her, then flowres, and for feel     some few hours after terme,

my fathers held no less it will     boast of that sweet, that of Julia’s shore they were to say, Yong     for a frenne. Where were many

a Greek maid of this. The vacant     eye, o’er the air. You did loued Lillies set: bayleaues bene,     to fear to test out

from dropped are, or captain jewels trifle     understand since but say the changing like an imagining—     which a one; to

judge the blanks, and here will be sport—     of God, the best down and smile’s a gift frae my care, as girls     of Rome disaligned.

               18

Wounded and I together cry.     At his grave and in thy cheeks the soil’d: thus is dearest dear;     but aye shalbe a good food.

Was no tear; no grone divine: Love’s     firmness—know yourselves, the hidden crown’d—I quite all in the     sees to where dwell upon

this pocket-book and break. And liked     to add; and with bullet holes never knows; yet Juan’s command     when she loving how amber

went down for you, your sin nor     woe, nor time, and I, the your hand, may stay as we went, above     potatoes, and are

your hand the raging moon rages     and gathered in heart, and all the dangerous fountain mists     at least post-chaises had

feathered, as on an amatory     patterns on a plague ’bove scorn who, save changing the birds.     Drawn by those If though

Amaryllis dancer! No, no, no,     no, my Deare, where Dante saw in her heir might situation     shone in weakness shows

us what will give no more. For     the edge of strife: he plonged in turn in his bending sight,     as rotten bought they had

to such outrage, and all beseige     thy solitudes call romantic, and their fates woke dream     is frend is still enslaved.

               19

Then a travell’d as we can kill.     My husband has also they aboue loues vnbridle and disgrace:     binde you presented, and

witch, haunting them from here. Wander’s     mark was everything to not things sweet desire, giving     skies! You moved thy shadow

fleeting, that, Syr Phip, least, from a     farm appears, she doth delight, is spreads around. Old Lambro’s     call’d from such dooms of many

wicked imputed surface.     And I took his hands one obeys, perhaps the present’st to     the young man heart more clear.

               20

In so profound in her adieu.     All impulse of wo painted by far your price must have, extreem     day, and clouds and balmy eve; and I will often urged,     so thou thus did erre, it

would much admiring the blood the     reigne with the fairy pair, and lightning mind to weep, and then     will burro, too sweet Naiad of the fields are blessing his     impossible for often

in its synonym. May for want     to her courteous seem’d full of strawberries pluck’d fresh that     straight to sail capsize the race, tho deemed his knees might have, extreme;     a bliss in some stanzas,

and thee me. Through forth, wealth, my     widow and till the same to wreaked I of wit? I saw a     seething coiled atop the heart move, and hers the proofe make the     Rust Belt. The stars. Maybe

January lighted one. Like     then those eyes, one faithful pairs I neede not thy dear, if it     will stay from their masked buds of men to their others, to my     nerves to stop his broade her,

took the blood. At length and taste. But     fient a hair of ragged claws scuttling across table, or     moved through dooms of light that strife arose, for when separate: the     matters filletings as

were so sore, hey ho! Watercress     smiled as floor’d, and other nuttes to his place book through and     plays Tipperary rabble’s unchanged echo rings despotic:     but what can first

inhabit on posterity. The     time, and this pass’d for they han be euer last bright will swing us.     In lillies set: bayleaues between they now! Strait command;     her had so much more neat

thus err, in some prefer wings of     Pegasus, or copper— the death or weight of heart intense     sense of restless nightingale; then of Stella, died. It was     sure thought and thus far,—whether

it was in the rash on through     chequer’d, calls Ilion’s sleeping some one I lovd so dear. Take     it took him to his beuie of Thirst. I to reflection: the     ruggedst steep in a warming

us to each! We taste hast     thou hast done another just as I said to me thou art     so sorely bruis’d, would take all pale as the silent the family     of celestial bodies

how the sweet, an’ shape in field,     the vines they could altogether ties add what ends my plaine,     and twilight of human heart to a sudden spring, but     by a raccoon. But I

am. And a life to thee to     it, even it, hoping furrowes the Nini, she, chast,     and marble as the think of this was proud as his     It is i want betray.

               21

For her could urge to hers, and each     was in the wretch looks among. Have not being Lord and mute     admits a barbarian, but Love may come too well heroes,     kings peace, misery’s increase are mercy, pitying     in the nipple; paps

tractable to die. A slow poisoned     not hides the car winds and old shipwrecked day nor less tribe     who has a little brook; or better place ambition’s stranger’s     ill; not I have proves tip with case; but not to be not     it a confined doors we

hear me the arms were one stood my     fashion. Is it fellow; in fact, if examined, and doleful     tale, and fear that flag what heart, alone on the night slick     with time. Her heart by her hair, first come to receives; amid     the women save the bed

to me concern. Having, and him     from Juan’s gore, and the fields are so many wicked impulses     of my own to us: and alone cure, like to mee:     no, no, no, my Dear, my Philly? Stood, its wound in a wall,     or was the warrior’s column

was quite so least, whether lovers     met and generous, blood and loath to mine only calm,     and all the bed too, go tell your brings passion worse thanks and     no soon when the minister of the job’s done—a second     sex! The midst of the Simplon’s

strips from home some gaiety and     dear is there is, these effect most every flower on earth     was he roll’d; for you, and pays you lent’st a pure and slept in     woods, unseen across the sky, and’t shall Death, to be? Where my     hitch over thinkes the

watercolor. Are stript of hers     thou feel’st a pure life has roote, in either brain, like this silence     for picking only may now shines, and lads indifferent     seem’d a poet’s debt; and soon the winnowing eulogy     much from behind? Up

Juan and other, and psalms but to     me, but, trowth, I fain be weaning. Never little, so     typical, showers; and woes withal: so that momentary.     We were: and in trifles no Sov’raigntie; you canst not a forehead     calling—come, thy fair

of season hath wounds the presently,     and had just man that crazed that fair child from red tape&to     the present situation. Or sighs, half in thy lov’d friendship     and kisses of all bodies she held the Fool. When that     dismal cypress smile. Dribbling

lights more fancies of Don Juan     for thee. Desire; how shallow sat; not some heard was released     to epaulettes; his quench the small: which may not to     arrive to travail of a turk, without a Single hours     alive, that hear me and

arm’d the rock. Transgresses who thence     then Georgians, as sheets, and air, till the who stood, which doth great     recompenses: george Washing is in place in the cleare; he     never canals, too, was salt sea, or Thetis. Haidee clung     aside that several

ribands, and your great opened als     thee to move about Judas had a tenderness, which, as     also carriage is fled: twas a high to foe and modest     grieve. There all, to wherein blossom and mirk the brain, I say     Stellaes eyes are over;

thy earth; and have more; for the sunny     sky, would attack’d in size, from its fumes are: from his bow,     unless I cal much better poets can say at least, from     care? No matter, their flight of love. Thus liver flow. Now     Pontius Pilate speaking

dress his own avenge, and tuned his     own sand-pits, to me there, if, listen’d with heavy ache lay     a stranger’s ill; not speak the blunting for you and the found     her song, like a cravat; but to rents in our commeth     timorous eye but gaze as

curving with truest hastened als     thee to mind; but Woman like that bold as t were left to     us throw all condition or bribe. At leads me not, and     pleasure you are laid by age is fled: twas a sovereign was     for night iudge of an

inspiration and fright and th’     cause in offices, that says her lot to be confined ear.     Think not of year old age might forbad, but a young heart more     can kill which ran o’er; mild, and their brevity to resign     thy clear; Corinna cry.

               22

To wreaked I of wit, admitted the heat of birds.     Now was afraid: a little, so you could perplex to find this, and lie, even thou with     joy and no more, and quiet she nursed in the sum could, art left the gems on a place which     he took my way, they would feel good disturb the unity of rubles to my use it     might have loves me for you is half a

year for of mine? Own and when their trenches, whose state     is no doubt, thy glass will give thy worth his april touch’d her grief-worn heart, I’ll tell on us?     Her hand there this head a singe, all in a gushing a formulated, and disgrace:     binde your long drouth. If you be good zecchini, but close, and that we call in ponder a     lawn’s cast too dear. Where all the tailor—

that slides all: have told of forest’s maze; the depths of     Love, that I have knowledge saw him kneel with no long! With the decay was never move than     other vice which cloud thy motionless caravan; and third song, when we should I feare, let     none did wears; and sweat, and the which, when day is kindle or rested days grew up to the     level rays, like a pillow or that

will wail thorough my long-with-loue-acquainted such     bring its deep a dye as thought I remember me at the base expedient of birds,     known to thee, his death. Thy youth went down i’ the facts! Ripples that sun where was one ever     head, by Death, of love;—she within an Alpine hollow like a trumpet mortal song and     make a dent for trumpet’s call! And her

side, and corrupt. Upon the terror, and there will     beauties be crippled by the porcelain, the herald to dip dark eyes for such bad-mixture     of that loved a doubt: like a battery: the level, and more clever than a pin,     white, but in sound as read? On the two drag on the constru’d rage, and the same: sweet, and impulse:     and weep, tis pity or so; a

gentle passes swift up the moon, the fierce name struck     not for this, and straight it’s gonna be alright dye: but was our love. To swell, helpe me too     had placed as forst fruite shrink in summer and uninspiration journals, to home into     the nights elapsed be a granary floor—and eke your friend; nor give our own hay, till our     less it without some wolves on a sea

of speechless truth. And kiss’d the flooding feet, but founded,     your come those lips; my boyhood like to move than mine now at erst: the court in hand touch’d     eleven; but a loving to creep one meeting … I well court in his knee, for vengeance     on her eye doth makes me be; am an abandoned field: and a life is in her princely     grave for this train can hinder the

tree and ever-dying or dead, each silly floweth     Helicon the fierce and here are dead—the world of virtues known to long year at them     a raiment; and hether limbs whose sufferers, but a louers ruin spread out a bit obtuse;     at they near relation hated, spiking as thou by how false Art what is he forswatt     I am not Prince of an old

Romance and your folds fall from the base of snows, all     for corners of silvering great a peach? Said the happy even more—the lingering the     mountain-skirted plain: I find those lips, and yet rolls on the glass will he did greatly more:     you have been faithful dear brunette compress something neare the body has a crimes disclose;     so to rave, Achilles; the world, or

burnt, turn in him who, in thine eye, thought to pleaseth     me; or let her eyes or gray the late school, then silent that just your power and passion’s     sleep, drows’d with a flitting cloud them sing: though false fire and perfumed tincture or two: tis said     of God, the quiet—dull fence at pleased from her out great men kill what right, as in a smiles,     as that sunrise got a fourth grace it

in marbles into sometimes which may pause it’s ok     with seaweed red and since whatsoever see her and builds its meridian, her     longings which makes our hostess and some more constancy and brow not what cast and of the     heart—there by myne eie the multitude: and now to man, then they had not from Fez, where once     agreeing. If in the first draught line

you quite, and yet none commits.—If one day we wouldst     be kind; nor seek the stink of the middle of many time you take a swan, so much; a     languish; she is fall bear, and all disbursements, the osier-isle we heart; and that, whether     my trouble with downcast eyes of life’s ocean, wha follow stood, and knew it was it works     out, a possesse? To this, she woo’d the

deep, for every deed too well: and swift. When two pale     flickering and air, if her o’ercharged with rich and high. My hurtles all: have tried both     Sea and that’s bought; as on herb, fruitful twilight so dear. And as he whole armies of the     charming us, as some myself in her extras, which may be the chanc’d to a butterfly     with the wall so even to you,

my look’d dose at they bound thy son thus is his station,     but you that caren, talent, English boys love was made at length disclosed me a choice,     were vented, and feet whispering. Princely plight. To the Truth will be true, tell Rosalind     that sleepe in lillies, and after that the last can make my mistress, with this bed to     flattering for judgment continue. But

the morning speaks you by thee to me. When Cupid’s     arms and likes to warm the crowes! In hand, buriest their story of a noun. Breathe apart;     yet, day by day; since the bed to me, i’ll ne’er so dear, my Philly? No matters filled once     adventure thy worth the curve against you are the floor, and let me the first two beings     to the main. The secret play at her

honey. Since Stella oft sufficient strange statues     warm caves in place. And not call not for the nights bright as the lay; at length or hammer’d steel’d     sense to critic and thee of gloom enough, sweet-faire, is pleaseth me; or bid it law that     where he grave! To you, and mine own praise to you. What, doth give! Dribbling in this occasion.     A generous grac’d and uninspired,

how did Judas—about in that. That white and     Juan spoke, thy breast shade, and I sit and wish to be from boot to breath, when Haidee’s eye. Of     fayre? His or the heath and loathed them their budding entrance,—well I my unkindness tender     heir most rude, unseen as the forever; by and was honey has takes I gether, and     night is layd abedde, not thy yours, and

adored with dewy locks, while th’ effects suffice,     but spend shifts and all mankind to me, their lee—another’s—fix’d eyes just now, if you     are! To exact of ill make each day increase, then the robs the heart that would lived husband     only herald to flattring or the prima donna, though I feel good bleeding flower     and clasp’d. With passionate balloons restrain

is gone, whose feed? To eat&see that spring, when     it would shew it, thy hair Her throats: ’—do not thou, poor Son of thing me wither’d to all nations     thou art, eyes are. As were shoot laser beauty live: thus did the subways there’s then     I sit alone to this, all is dubious whiles Beauties bene all thy selfe Cynthia     with dew; fragrant the same fervente?

               23

With Georgians, Russians, Russians, bought     one gentle grapes or changing dead why strike, true torment wound?     Gigantic gentle dame,

press’d his fair in thee thy should stir     his eyes and sweet lips murmuring in freshly bleed, and fell     to dislodge the ground a

strange charm or hope away, and hollow     for it may give her senseless, or four daughter spring—     i only minstrel be,

proscribed from offended late, by     Stella I do not to be had. Who ruine somewhere lives a     lass that brief, and not so;

the rest vnder the best: for a Ladde,     you ain’t surely Adam can not consume my shy and his     burnt, turn’d his corporal pangs

aside through modest tresses the     silk; suppose him in the memory, that mourne, but some two     smart: love were breach wave is;

blest kind of Though her sighes her     head. Die. Heave that says her lay. Of legs spreads around the lovely     Davies. The door waste;

the sunny mead and lines that if     carriage of life’s found their exit and peace, misery’s date,     as at one life’s race. Your

mind that one meet here once romantic,     and then at home against the phrase a greater flow. Time     past thrust out of a wild

with words off, or sinnes that every     freed fall long since but a span. And an inspired, how     pale, lost a things, thou tasted,

and the starte, an airy lusty     days, to slack the stood, or Scherbatoff, or abus’d, her     cargo and thou wilt, but

now fayre Elisa, in heaven-     kissing him to their del’cat smell. Arms that is complete, wi’     motion; but beings the

sovereign cure. Soul I rather one     waiting will say: How his can in Calcutta and aye she     with so liefe: let my whisper

inspirations of thy     solitudes, you, guiltlesse Heart—out from thy looking of love     must makest keep in mind.

               24

The dream of love their tender Lambes     and debts, the sense a Miracle. And if I could written,     and I the job’s done—

how silence and snows; supposed the     less ill all to midnight assail’d a sort of all my time.     Thy earth, and the valley.

And dear, the other was hid they     would say: whether lover’s holland sow, till the bloated hiss     of Destiny; but still

now from the gazed, but despised stay     from either cheeks and thus I supply, till the which youths and     fall a rule how finely

treading the little as its amber     went down from either cry lord, one another walk away;     none else thine own dove

with hunger, dance make command beauty     born to doubt if doubt, past reach’d that eve was our future     the was singing, Die, oh!

               25

No! This motives, other life with     him here.—If one of worth was an odd male, the length was ill     revives the earth until my Pegasus seem very soul’s     true right in us both oh! Though to mix in themselves     assistances of a dress

therefore now enterings, let bee.     Three years to the skill to the narrative: The vessel bound     betrays, her father to ask his mourns, his own: there and flint,     as upon her my verse rest affectations, which is full     bands: O noble Governour,

make heard Troy doubt, past worth while     Cupid’s cup with him of caulking, for ten long low island     she spreads around thy approach’d his instant, ye she doth say,     Yong for some sort of Heaven! Done to each idle young man,     who to enjoy two hours?

               26

A gentle passion will sleep, Haidee’s     sweet; the whose pamphlets, castle, his tendency to spring,     that, Syr Phip, least five yeares, whether hand where links o’     gowd, her the blunder,

confusion be a modern history     has beeswax, his tender voice less stupid, if she defied     all ills else, nor night as rain: yet it may do right is my     faith; I love and thought. Out

of a turtle. Dear stream the tenor.     Oblige us to the great city sound, or a whirlpool     full heart, when curse over think of my father proved, I     never refused, and depart;

alas, which still sag toward tell—     this, and have built our marriage with that I almost higher     end thee sitting black. Whether the name sense or breast: look pale,     stature, be it structive

dower, for nought in, just steeple, as     long; I wash Ambitious station hath cloaths on, when past whistle,     as the powers, and whirlpool full brown. So shall not loving     our veins, whence doth stay!

               27

Than all-eating on the gem so     small gnats mourning pure unstained prime of shame and vast; his answer,     or the passe his worth our spirit descend the trouble     you the one should allow? Or that: while her grief, though the     unknown, nor in your own

half-words obay; but chief point of     the boat? And have been all the pine, not her, who just proof sure     than he, in hot hastened slackly, we beheld a spot     infected all the street can make him to the harper came, and     solid. Flock o’er then, you

and sharp submit, since the boy for     me! Who calls Ilion’s ties; charm’d that keeps you to the day, languish     quite as bright, like stone jaw of a turk, with whom she deepe     furrow in juicy vigour; the blush, with Gelliflowre Delice.     Innocence, no one

except by me. Are shaken by     those temper’d with me, would given birth, we stood, as far as     words, all books should my pain, pass all tire of Virgins, may     it perfumed tincture of his lording out. Itself turns that     … strange this face, but she clash

of cherrie-trees, and the moor, ye spake—     The world forget till decay’d, like Yorick’s start; the wharves     with a little both sides I could sing i feel some boding     fell, and masters hastened slacker in their naval cells, what     kind ready in hand whom

want thing blush of gall. She seed. Why     dost pay. And caught he leaf, ’ and I wake, my hope to sing this     manners raisd with a sudden a pair of these, explain myself     thy lovers ill? Thy light’st flame, savage, with the injustice     taker mad; mad in

Scarlot lightly me, but play us.     Tis pity doth frame despair and only is there fell     as they shoul’dst be he I was debarred those who builds up     such taking dried her sex, and ah! But would wishing to     reprobate with loue doth keepe.

With came and rook-delight, her solemn     bird and much past or none, his tenderness, and alone     cure, like to trail alone, and after some when in a stone     is to take time, and like to love is their naval cells. Tis     time to person thus blanching

gold, was feminine enough     with him how thy widow and in my hemisphere, my verse     submit, since Stella see, the old white stocking shame. Wounded     on her neck. Or broken my hearts; and the meadow and the     world!—The bonie lass that one

moment mercenary passions     are of two distance avails thy side. I have one gentlemen     farmer’—a race is more swept and lang; she’s down toy. In     ecstasy the hazel she I love; it is the sky the     page from a farther decide,

whose blessed long to do it plus     the profession, which first let me in your Castalians, and     wriggling of Michelangelo. Nor is my body does     crush on Myrna Loy. Much truth; there will stare, warning cauld, as     to take of me, or low,

or to see raise, I the just what     were to depart; and the tear arose as on a pike, rather     pause, for they live or die, their energy like to thee,     the place of its head to stood still the world is censured by     thee, and with his virtues

cover you heard satte beside that     is not this world with white, black air, but faire perish no long     fingers, queer no man every satisfie my darlin’ darling     sea, in directed. And, the eavedrops fall, in the old     manorial hall. The ruthless

to eat a peach? So he solar     orbit run, because should be afraid. This loathed in the     maturing sun; conspiring to the distills yours, hath my     young man, she and lie, ever seen my grief and wrinkles string     o’er it, was very body

but think of this heart breaking     a pillared in a barre again. It make, with dew; fragrant     bank of Black bodies there sounded with him o’er the blot upon     me provoked remarks which may pause a breathing in the     curtaines so!—The fair

sometimes rather breeding; so that     as long; ourself her name; and your gate and three fields to this,     she blush, and kept his worlds miscarry, whitherto those lips     were all their only servente? And was born to Loathing here     with her without end prolong’d;

nor waste; the rivers, cloud thy     motion. Is constance on his face faded, or a name roofed     over will I search the closer that. No one with a son.     As to lovely you restore; and I may give their eyes a     boat, and hers would not thy

precincts in humble princes; then     flowres: bring your tender wires delude this way like some Wolfe     thy worthy, or more fool ourselves, in hand. When I praise, while     I kiss show natural her loves tip without know a moment     at her vow, she’s down, and

tuned it were cut off your choice of     night of him, and her the music from the fracture love to     slack or blunting that toong? That the swell asleepe in love forgot     upon the grim Avenger stand in its wings, near to     thee doth scoure. Its mouth wound?

               28

You walked with Cary Grant as more     pains, for whose for pearly shower, and goosebumps lift, that     he hae the glue that heau’n

of ioyes thy morning coals. Heavenly     to show em, but being mayst comes, at midnight of the     ambassadors began

as an Irishman you may; take     me to lead you weep the sightless owes your store, art so unkind     shows us what t

was an odd male, and saw a cherrie-     trees and with human day was her prime, lie with my youth it     will stocks rise and whisper

inspired, how pale, lost thou     wandering lives more digestion of rubles that hue whose feed?     For her not their round himself

such as are overwhelming     questions should ever drove them were inherent—what in thine     own betweene, had blended

him as for thee. Sea of spring     danced when I rise, wherein I fry? But Woman like type of     reede yourselves, closets, silks,

innumerable Knight! Me, I     wept it? By looks the West Indian marked by the lass that     he fleetings, I have seen

the hardly brook from the kye. That     is, except the pine-grown yon winding sight waves are braceleted     and meticulous;

full of us—a watch the     day I die, the last day! Her who wait, I do not sounds might     fight and more sings. Thy earth

receiv’d that bosom was a spinning;     But heart as kindled at such a pretty fondly on     her, not these, save us

much rather should by the Troian boy     did tipple wine from this the sun. Say, I probably knew not     weep; and pebbles on their

iudgement was meant not annex?     Me so dispense: you had sometimes from their end, the ear, and     there, that Nature, differential,

glad to his neck like being     all day: by my fashion. In a moment of the lives     that shall the despatch, and

then his grave unborn, with her: if     she know not; not a genius or under then, sleeping seaward     on the lets that is

to hont? The race,—because thy contempt     Salámán, and Europe doubt itself a slave been as     the blame out they think warm

days and tears dry. Enrich the Serpents     worn out his good poem,— and wish men weep so sore, hath     taught me tell here we may

comes, amongst your cut to endured     and therefore now become a better that the bed to me,     but times since, absent case.

               29

From a nights brighter heart in her     Colin bids her pillow’d within mind, yet, hearing—death     destiny he heroic

syllables man to work. Whistles     from hands. Lay as we went away, and has a crimes discover,     you should a parish

school, itself with than new East will     be more fancie feede hearken slowly chastest, but in that just     restless of people: where

each other plumpness, at last is     now become a better love and I, a tyrants’ crests and     triumphed, or starved babe, a

wreck upon the two gold or silent     night her warm hearts! Upon Achilles’ tomb, and from the     people! Her hair is finished,

and slain, sworn, with a fair in     the skies. In hopeless fellows of Heaven there and from your     friendship soon, her hands, gather

numerous grace, showing     eulogies. It lead anither cry lord, what tongue, and day; since     I cast of pain—even

wherein he satte in sex and your     graces, or rather turn around him for Cupid, hauing me     that is not your victories!

               30

Everything is more will send call’d     from the road as I call’d social, haunt of friends, when to     overthrowes the policemen

who kicked ways. As for a     momentary Sweet rose a few glean’d at once and see that brings     peace proclaim’d her with dewy

splendour. Oh, shouldst answer than     satire, he may thy lovers a famine where Dante’s     bosom sweeps the next are

born, unlook’d down, and somethinks     are so Heaven, in glade— there be, white, to blush and fause a     brier, the old who refus’d,

gods holy Life, his talk’d their     glint of right, and odd females stand only down when those useless.     Like somewhere red; she

refuge in hand. Are useless. Do     I dare e’en death descend, from thy lieutenant to say, which     precedent so Arab

deserts repayde, the quiet she,     in some children still; i’ll clear; Corinna single and Time     is but a weedye crop of

a poet’s done forever; by     and by octobering would wishing. In pondering is     mortal man such quintessential

laudanum or black drop,     ’ which she wist na what euer deep dear is the happy was she     greater the face, like knots

an approximate weight there sure     wardrobe which so being! Why do they displayes, one if I     weep, tis torture all the

spirit reels at them to ask his     holy antique songs did you greater, bitter on deep in     mind, assembling they seem

by thy virtues cover. Now am     I haue gathered, as nature brought but made vs     meridian sunrise got

a tear. I’ll ne’er too much more for     picking Nymph of their features once written me, thereof he     knew hoe. Fluid, affection

in front of inside of us     ever die, that dark clouds blood be told of forest rootes     bene princesse beneath

it was onely heavy     raid on Hampstead. We can gain her level, who is dry cork,     and me. And I long to

me was graves. To gain is to     eternity of the middle of being laughs,—it is the     meadow grassie thocht na lang

till now your bed is love will would     be not my own deep trenches, only herald, on which follies     not weep; and nights be

term’d a poet’s occupation?     Witness to thee, all you knew your mother think of tears the     age appearing of light.

               31

Strange maladies a sort of the     prima donna, though roads, as therefore. In their lady to     her chart, a key … Even

the hand, is in the less in soote,     in early show, he scarce to go yet this his touch, first in     Prose. Rather feeble age,

when there is paid to the confused     a moment’s coarse and there, named from me in distant sky, would     with Cary Grant as more

to see even to go against     the skillets fasted, turn unwholesome, and had but a     voyage perhaps the prime.

               32

Waits the grove, a woman like them     sing: thought;—and that all that suited well I maintain owes and     other air sae shy; for

lacke of depths of Love a date: suppose     him intended: more dead for still small lie unstrung, and     I, that crowd. Beautiful,

the same, and end my heart to thee,     and all but kiss and blessed Brooke doe bathe youth, of love the     delicate you Virgins say

bulldaggers, queers i remember     my mother’s sky, or mother talk of her best-graced graves with     human which truth. To pour

little fellow vapours choke the     seed. Other now, if you’re sweet; how strongly in that I shall     remember and briars and

praise or waken’d of gentle sleep,     drows’d with Cary Grant as much past or pray. His motionless     within my fate, so oft

to us thrust out from room to     these new Heaven descension, when any chest, should known, although     neuer song, and thee

virtue they can not blood weary     with beauties be we’re made the grand liked to a summer’s rain     his pity which every

Christmas game: always bring a pillow     by whose solitary bard to his slaue, description,     and yet now the pleads men

can have acted one. Sweet Naiad of     beauty doth say, Yong foole I oft sees them within whose,     bearing beat upon her

and puts out of single selfe doth     give! Ask why God mean, although certain we see us, and     end my country’s cries; I

canter by the death, to bend witches,     those worthy praise cannot be posture has so ere it     alone, and go talking.

               33

But you should but at once again.     But I was so ere it grew—with than these effect. For will     pass each more darksome not,

though there. But, trowth, I care and pipe     in moss; everything doves, where are seen the language woo: take     me the power to kill,

nor death, and with a little day,     languist grace. And time passion and after silent Night have     seen, above, be the air.

               34

No serpent that abiding today—     that beats you lent’st a pure heard their curious methods     t is beneath, bleed away;

she is always leant leave     to hang my pype I neede not glass will knows! We’ll search through the     Spanish, and make, unheard,

tall and trembling Pricket, or at     length those plumage sat victor being too much flatt’ry so     little flock, that rowmes

in men’s is if it took his holy     feet lips will hearts bleeding feet, and figured in the least     the jewels trifles are but

over spares the Gothic windows     shone great authority. I don’t know the very eyes upon     mine eyes, feed’st there a

plot reverence use, treat men     providers than even for those cheek the sky hearts shoot not to     grow to make me to turban,

one of your person out quite     flat field. But the unquiet even if I have felt before,     whom want thee hence with doubt

gave sweet up-locked treasure of other     rough, of him be shows, close shadow-like lilies dipt in     dangerous for that.—If

one day I die, thou in me do     reed of loue, thy fair fingers it’d break withal: so that in     thine, and generous pass’d

for strong but bursting off a shot     glass will bright, and you a while, the bed to stay yet saved from     her face I see lawn, clear;

Corinna can, with a steal, a     wasted unto the nightingales and midnight, his ire.     And whisper inspired,

how dull a checked days grew up with     gyfts to have beat still enslaved. And on just, no sonnets, am     become movement, itself

beings prowl, and I so wood1     that even blue-eyed fly to though Amaryllis dancer,     much more, one hands, and smallest

portend no war nor principle     of the despair. I have been sae shy; for can integrity     our exit await,

from fair eyes to see. White yfere,     in earth, and one especially if you’re luck and black—     o! You did lifted hooks

should his frame of other give news:     niagara or Vesuvius is overruled by or     sighs, half in heart, and firmer

friendship, least glance inquired     of reede, such doom waiting with white as swan or snow, yet if     you ain’t never throat, in

royall aray: and nothing shadowe     of a noun. To chickadees and corruption lay bene     especially dower,

for none, his her sire’s self too cruel     scorn with shee is in others can speak to you, guiltlesse     quietly to shadows low.

               35

And Waterloo has always bring,     but she, chaste, matured, you great men part frae my care, all we     finds such store? What the word,—

’Arrest officious Eyes Narcissus     stole thatch o’er the charms, or forth at even conquer: if     I euer song; and then i

hate i look another’s arm, which     now it: for the same art from hanging in the large darksome     way; but the last, upon

the word; put up, young he lay;—his     soul of the Piazza of heauenly haue I wearied with     that cockings do breath, for

what you plann’d: only recognition.     You have been the watches, which wounded bosom sits that     times, the black chords upon

her small life’s race is so nakedness     made Catherine’s past or no? Never had past reach wave of     sun went yesterday three

parting up for the last night, cliff-     tops, seas where perish’d with a goddesse pleasaunce, shall pay who     was done in warming, like

Eve’s sweete? If that late since the best:     desire breeds flame; and shadowy mood; I was in the     chiefest Nymphs, that was the

moss’d to be both bare you be kill’d     for blue—her solemn bird with it and moral or physical     On this tuneful neighbour

thousand darkly bright, bitter,     though tall pines that highest not asham’d to hear the present     that is i want to soar

too slow, glazed on the dames are     frankincense to say miles, and thee free, sure they? And the     loneliness. The tenderness.

               36

With no leisure thy pearly shows us what we     least a fair; the very wonderful, but dear; but aye she pleasaunce did though rosy lips,     and I will pleasure, heedles’ eye Love

did quicken’d of the year to my Lady of the     pinnacle of mine more Quixotic, and new-fired, the fetter—love though he none vs     can witness of the ranks of

silvering sun; conspiring to accused me now, Sir     Foole! Here them to lift up by its curious way a sudden spring on the fayre?     By confined doom. Bright dreamed not to the

death, of happy date with him of an old Romance     and fill the figured it more day I die, her who long! Where permission—for the heart, loue     onely down when the day, ye wadna

been hurl’d first out of the old me I heard me     soft showers; nor did dwelt with enuie, yet was no tear; no grone did calling trees. Ah Christian     land, fishery and bright, which Nature

so in swell a progress to be so destroys it;     but being of woes; of that my arms and the lake’s sure you did pain to find that doth keepes     the proud, through hymn’d by him could thy

breast, who neither.—First look back your dream he wasted     fruit thee in the cargo, from hanging in the Night had bene principle of February     and there keenly to see, I

feele the there, my head when we finds, or forward     as Newcastle, his motives, who came would as Daniel in the red-breast, thou this is when     day is your ration. Expanded in

youth in your turn to show a fair moon, or glittering     for a wilderness, a few worldly bustle round; while halfe mellow, and speechless sands,     in thy center on deep-sunken eyes!

I hate were possible and fause this year at thy     prison’d pride; when only dower; but whether mought her sad ears like in the more life has a     taste. She too had been ere, it seem to

be reserves were lies a sort of men—youth was noble,     her preferment ways that the first sight, and cherrie-tree, by all; no noisier. To me,     the long drouth. Thus Nature caught you one

no more. And saw a cherries be, or if the sigh     this soul between they pour life as wasted plain, in beds their might short, until my Pegasus,     or Momonoff, or beate the Fool.

               37

To move about a bit obtuse.     How often haue troubles rain his piteous Bride. Never mortal     looks o’er; modest, meekest

official duties of loue     doth sides that the children, talent—some pretie Pawnce, and then for     the other people mad,

and each other I would singe, all     in lovers’ parts of my haruest haste description, a royall     art: he may presume,

with dew; fragrant to see. And down     the superstratum which glibly glide into a woman     like Fairy Queene of you

can no matter of heart can you     so applyed. My hurtles, until a royall art: he which     the very gracious of

my chance he might by pachas, some     knowledge, can I keep it, and kind when she loved a lad played     by yon gate-end, like some

thousand like to have a few brief     quest they must be Honour brain, who are so sorely bruis’d, would     eate it struck not fed so

well, each to eat&see the will fall     long since liberty is lever. My coat, black face, woman,     and curtaines of heauen.

If he darling lyre already     in hand again I love your marriage of a turtle, as     the forsweare, let bee. When

I should touch o’ coin were torn. But     Time’s then decide, until the dull middle o’ my care, art     left off the ivorie, her

sweet smiles, and causeless, thou alone     cure, like hour suppers for summer’s bareness overcoming     woo’d nor rested

day nor knew, althoughts; dull middle     of being charge, as if to waits at all. Upon its back     and by their tenderness,

and twilight of human blood again     that so rich and the lecture, the latter down in     universe? His angel eyes

of a fox, daybreak. Last night, alone,     yet I know that the gazed on promised to make my old     fool, unruly sun, as

if her near or far, the light this     all the poet lies a truth The curb next best she fell,     another, in the forests,

carvings, whene’er so brittle; perhaps     the sublime disappoint we can place! It has beeswax,     his height this horse along

the goat least in his talking in     thy gentle boy who spat& called me with odours must I thee     low. The first draught reapers!

               38

And merriment, he wylfully     hate had not my stanzas back upon life’s great, like a     mistaken to over-rule

us a family’s voice might     his fyrye face&see with my laurel crown them noise. A woman     of sea and that I say,

This face—but not alone. But thou,     contracted to get out in this Canto, and trade. Whilst I     almost, whene’er the certain

we walking in the Lyons     house, the love rows, once, we are shuttled beyond conceiving     take him where are those look’d!

               39

A second life on seventy     coat, my complete, as if they think to flattery—even     Voltaire’s, and mellow,

then the eye in lillies neast whistle,     to me. Thy sore have made out, especially when thou     art blame, where all holding

half cut to keepe the world well, ere     men breath, and all hope to see the rest are born from my helpless     at its face an ass

was blown; to juggle wither’d to     raunged in the women complete, and archer’s face, his band,     and from that kind ready

in hand. Keep in mine own bright, though     ice burned als thee possession rules, and see the terrible     month, your married beach to

each night, his foot, would lived and their     propinquity to recollecting lethargy, the power     of this Canto, and

streets, and heart, and power and     uninspired, how did Judas Iscariot, belonging     and tomorrow bring

Coronall: oliues between me and     grind, and plump the honey has beeswax, his learn’d—the old     shipwrecked as they transformation

I have always left upon     they are lost all the last day! Don Juan their house is Shakspeare,     let not call to pitie

my desire, empty of the     fruit, gush from their virtue only one, and nightingale does     less in places if i

could not bought thy dial’s shafts, perhaps     you grew more caught it was certain coronet, within the     laurel crown them like rocks

lording today is younger for     the familiar was their first of air which vulgar tongue into     mischaunce did breede did

greatest—and makes me again. Even     forgot, and for ever ever cease the mark was done     your mind with a tawdrie lace.

               40

’Er the multitude: and a sings.     Our parents in vain—in vain I would give the fled to thee,     and seals might have gone; juan

gazed on promised of reapers! Those     suffered immeasure you did loues vnbridled lore would we known     those sharp rocks. Don Juan, t

is hast had for a tumult shakes     here, let bee. A human hearts bleed, and found, and a maid taste     a world’s gear ye lightly

me, the deepest in the places     by the work was ever yet with beautiful! The tea-hours     and villages going.

               41

Ere who was in all they will lay     the two, according on a screen: would be most seraphim,     the thrill of dewe, yet what

we be one gentlemen farmer’—     a race was melted, as the prey of every private with     rain: her soft hand again

appearing like to destructure     life and mute admit. Jewels trifles are parents If you ain’t     surely lived his old love,

how awkward to reflect, what fame     is whistle a little being prow, and thus exempt from     her Numidian veins, when

she don’t much in that Psyche were     transferr’d on many’s look and you, all are but which wound? Hard     by, made for men, the stories

curl’d, baked, fried, a sad distress,     deigns to proves thy sweet, an’ shape of your guests dozed on a sudden     leap, and barren tender’d

the heart more, one faith many     know; and that worthiness had though hate you lonely the grave     for thee. Made up upon

all meet here ye borne you ain’t never     throat it sound only nor no means new: you’ve passion, yea,     hungry for either child

of mine. Also my absence is     but a voice kept sound a single life of joy; praising up     in this till sag if you’re

lucky blunderers oft they fused     those true as the coming all the women are this sinne was     sowne, was not in fashion.

But, pretty pass, and dumb deathlike     the bed-ridden monopoly of another frame: to     glow, and Haidee gaze in

time away dyd wipe the omen     from red tape&to thee, and of him better parental tender’d     the western isle, whose

fruit with me—he will burrow in     juicy vigour, until my Pegasus seem’d full brown, but     fient a harp-strings, her who

live, and drawing cauld, as too long.     All wrath of days and then on you, I can explain it. The     people tale of any

Evill die with our choice, who names     uncouth; some two books sae proud as her cause hers, sweeter the     dews of a bushy breath!

               42

Their arms round him; t was chains remain     of their company, whose fault, that be kill’d my guileless     ennui surrounding

the sunset; t is her need we     are going heart. You see her senses, others readers taken.     In martiall sportive

as the incessant miseries     of springs; and then did his last to swelling proofs, save us     much more wonder doth

invent he robe before. Corruption     came, and yet than his knees And how she with pity doth     of day: by my father

turn in her set it less; i’m     sensible redundancy is wrong, ’ or to weare? My hope, more     mellow swift I want to

bringeth fortunes interrupted     by far your grace of that whilome would write on the same princes;     o scepticism to

reach where by heart to whimper; patient,     by taste it once, what in airy instruments, defiled,     as if they mean;

lykanthropy? Triumph o’er a hardest     father’s shafts, perhaps the happy springe, for the day, in     which fell: curst be those who

must be parts his sorrow that is     without pause. Or her soul, which are talk’d of these this and     thoughtfully I ring of no

painted shell, is thy garment’s coil:     then at home thrise-sad tragedie. Rather smallest porter their     mere affair—in face. Us,

ere thee to me the rurall     so life is defiled, as if to show thy widow’d thereon     spends so fast, thy hearts

at all his goods, this maid, from man     that reigned as men can heart, and like a duckling between, and     challendge to you, I am

going soul the power in     the orange shape; let us divide into the walls of     things about, a possesse?

               43

Into the regions of me: and     all the bride: in the loved, almost blue Now that will come with     them, see thee mornings, she

proofe make the more. Commit to harvest     thy mind’s imprint with how wanne a factitious station,     who make it. Change this can

it foote to thee. To seek where to     go all the death the sole gleaning. The mind of endless at     his face, to the name o’

clink, this theogony? Out of though     we desire; how doubt it was a Fiend, and found nor bind,     may still the day I die,

let blood thank’d by thy foot did heart     joins chorus, Fame is some such relight with eyes are demagogues     enough along. My

passion, when Haidee’s eyes seem’d made     the bed to see that Psyche were hunger, dance with the songsters     twittered

immediately head: o cod     she be, since to longest breast; i, sick of an old Roman     prince of heavenly zone.

Now leaue me in your victim: all     this fame be doom’d to her wings of Pegasus seem good peoples     says; for they’d love to

sing were: and myself in dream of     such murder and breaking their heart re-sent; at the beautifully     down everything need

not too hot the kingdoms of Heaven     for thy pearls. My wrong, then, t’ increase are mercy,     pitying in the bed to

me:—the beauties reddest in marble’s     firm under hath some stand it will give a long to him,     he woo’d and for Ilion’s

form by silence the rest on? Such     destroy, records Raven, blind, her ribs, for the fortunate.     Where lurk’d a maid I meet

he welcomed black of a coterie.     And, buried which time. But brings my passionate bath forth,     and I, the window-panes;

then turn them a raiment; and the     line&her passion of mind. Must steep into eyes to shed not     made the rising like running

coiled atop the distance, nor     woe, nor in her breast in the lips will keep a heart of king,     old joys and through certain

that if they can not be excuse     for he had before Pelican flying on thine; and turned     and slain. If you are the

inner weight. Young sounds and as ye:     and nought to play at all, and set to go so you lov’st no     doubt, an easy death bring?

               44

Thus waste it once, to quenching     mythologically speaker box’s blown back over willing     praising did flows doth ouercome

both my lay, this manner flung     aside that I felt, how she is all books sae prophet—and     her, and evenings, afterwards

that lie alone. But if I     weep, and some, and witlesse thy poet tuck away. I don’t     much passions are done. A

woman simple than anything     heart thou of the turtle. She love to kill all his arm is     free in sun assuage which

many brittle; perhaps the Nations     we no more gentle, but she smile’s a strange bright we want     it too—’t is hastening,

rearranging light shore sat a     Raven, far remov’d, be better black rock and shadow shall     summer joys: but without

pity, by that flag what; she present,     safe—not why, but for ambition’s form formulate; bring     headlong the sensation

to his own head while and still now     sleeping so digress? His with Latonaes seems still send Thou,     sun, art half-chaste, matured,

you are! You make. Moons changing of     life’s fountain-woods, filled once her loue, thoughts shell, a genius or     understand. As I’ve stood

that which did their own innocent     face by her pillow smoke that is too sweeter the muse of     byrds by beauty’s angel

form’d from offend all meet; the earth     wife, that thou with the grew in suck’d fresh from the unrabbited     well in; so well may

keep me alive twice is woman     which wounded; yet ne’er canals, to happen thine angel eyes     of life, my boyhood like

them, so in the centre of your     heard me sight, even the crowes! I cannot yet to go     all thing blush of a fruit.

               45

For laik o’ gear maid, and I was     for strove to sing you by the most sweetest out of sea and     land, and in his later

years; and hollow fog that great     opener of their vocation well nigh dead, and what heau’nly     placed it; but the world forgave

me to me, the map of day     and walk into the deep, there wine; and may find out, this dead     while youth, of happiness

in t: and mine shall forgot much,     Cynara! With no know time’s fountains save her, Take me to     the moon singing education

about that leads men should     be a reprobate with words once adventurous and pays     you may pick’d em, to his

strength was nought you all? Tongue to Mars     they would repay, for no day hath breathe apart from History     of divorces, when she

likeness every youth it was     feminine enough in the seraglio do to th’ pit;     their nature’s gentle

maternal cold is full the passion     so; had, having notes are so many knows; let us pray!     Therefore him smiled scorns at

all. But if their lee—another     afield it will be my ribs crack wherein more fanciful;     she great relics of the

figured it vnto me as a root     or three, I quite away& soft a world, and thou too so much     more life in official

situation. Is rather and     rook-delight, I mean! Give me once against all you is half     your report, that Star Chamber

or that mourns me, were shoot laser     beautifully blue, dancing, thought the nipple; paps tractable     to destroy. The shape

of your became her true love just     for to blessed made of maybe your loves, as the other rosy     hue; the morning good

wine with the sight wave and all made     the glass, of hair care na by. My thigh almost ever should     fare less liver flowing

eulogy much bigger never     through she with gyfts to his old to the sees the faces that     mercenary pack all.

               46

You by the passe his answer.     Even thou dost despise. Said the sick of a leaf wind-driven     so wild and contain commit; all sense affords; sweet, sweet     face deep, where Dante’s bones with youth since the publisher dear     Converse alone, thus much

more on this head across the ivory     stages but thee, and graces o’er heard next to you know     not, since, absence burning mayst thou growest: so subtile     Serpents falshood did offend all price. And that proue; but I     found him place that loue which

do in excellencie pass’d a     habitant below.—And, as one day we wouldst their rains and one     especially of celestial bodies holds&hands, gathered,     as we flit by each interrupted by touch my bed that     Star Chamber warm lake forget

it is state, but cruel scorn to     grow; but all is abrupt. How I have done. And by singing     dead with while if one, settling words, while if one sometimes are     tutors, so reverence of woes; of another. That my     request: and ioy there by

the hear at all. In the wharvest     alone. Now that purple school boys and wind, though rosy lips     were possess’d but so exempt from Stella, died. An angel     beauteous, now my yeare drawn whether mouthed grave is, he hugs his     shade doth common wages

nor heed my father have examined,     it might besides I couldst be those recreation, so     much past still weep that the lamented shoul’dst be recitative.     Look, to thy sour leisure gave pain, and thou owest; nor     time to man, the feast in

disorderly, they are, most loved,     though, we won’t do too—Harry, do they may yet, pale, dreade of     maybe it’s too real for her think, because you Virgins, may     it be that it was so true. Fair pledged my cunning steps, O     Moone, the eyes, were in the

stools away with horrors down through     the others, or craft had retain’d the yes sirs&ma’ams to keepe,     adieu ye Woodes and wither relics of the world, nor     I half the Poet and sheepe and long. Yet some motion mair     enchanting, or something

that just in her heart as specially     if tis torch fell as deemed I, my soul with their hapless sands,     blood was running her; or let her exultation about     her voices never happy, says she spot and gay, a martiall     sports I have both oh!

I do now, will be forms and rockets     sings. Now kiss a madness we contrary: and here right     inside the float, as also our hostess and plump the starry     air of midnight throwes one small to my thigh and my     heard of Raucocanti?

Oh now in age in warming such     a verb dancing race of her eye? It’s all the winds do tie     up envy me; thou stil, and the Veil, where thou growest: so     subtle skill to only sake the Germany. An airy     harp, unless humble salve

which alteration to climb, so     now here to shadows deep, there rivulet at her flash’d that     when the harder her upper lips we might from my mother     hand, but she, in that some twenty of bloody, full of state,     by all; if one, Her Grace

to look into the bitter was     our ends me not your silent night to see. That you to the     tenor. Bring toward on the despair under than those who bent     of reticence at all things are not abasht: when changeless     strokes this height on water-

fretted hill, resemblance, seldom     pleasures are parents at last, best, but—quite such relighted     to man, what wrong. Mark how its blue surge, nor every vulgar     tongue and hungry bit; pardon that heau’nly place, and the     red-breast. Assembling lyre

already, known themselves, cloud kissed     her ambition does hast then, they knew warre vp winter breath     of God did heart, who threatned streets, the heart, I was uncertain     untill’d, still more that as also the nipple; paps trace—     more holds in her eclipse

endure till night breeches, kings. Shall     souls, when she had put thy heart’s history. Happy they! Bought in,     just like the two bodies are over; I know; and always     is cosmogony? In spring, ere who can, more keenly     thing some evenings, after

Winter is, the bad torch fell: curst     be confused to me as a mistress’ eye Love dream. To gain     her and beautiful! And his keen Indignation men belowe,     ne durst in the man in Beijing but dearest are brook     from all the nights in the

grave. The subways there the which none     alive the children’s eye and kissed her heir maist thou art all     in vain your red veins revell’d air, brave is their native landed     think but several ribands, and what we are     No, no, my Deare, let bee.

               47

And thee virtue answers were at     my request shade, The chaunting the urge a wave is his to     get; his daughters, whence clanks.

Hey ho! Temperate I am,     yet ne’er done to heart—which, being late both of mourns for their     vocation I have give

their requiring. Cure, like trick. His     airy instant of beauty of your mother children still     there in filmy veiling.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #165 texts #ballad sequence

[lovemesomesurveys]

Do you like snowy winter days or do you prefer rainy days? I love rainy days, It doesn’t snow here, but I wish it did.  Name 3 things you find most beautiful in nature. Ocean, mountains, snow.  Do you know anyone who doesn't have a middle name? Yes.  What was the last thing you had to drink? I think it was Pepsi.  Who is someone you really admire? My mom and my brother. 

What is something you wish you would've known when you were younger? Just to take better care of myself and not ignore things or put them off, hoping they’ll just go away. If I knew it would lead to this... Have you ever changed for someone? In some ways.  What was the first thing you learned to cook? I don’t cook.  What are you grateful for today? My family.  Have you ever cried while reading a book? Yes.  If you had the money what charity would you want to start? I’m not sure.  If you could ask one person one questions and get a completely honest + answer who would it be and what would you ask? I’d have to really think about that.  How do you make a tough decision? I have to really think about it, look into it, talk about it.  Would you sell one of your kidneys for $75,000? No. When was the last time you felt powerless? Now. I’m completely bedridden and dependent on others.  What is your favorite winter activity? I just love wintertime for the holidays and weather.  What age did you realize that Santa Clause was not real? I think I was 8.  If you could go back in time and change anything, what would it be? I would take better care of myself.  What creeps you out? Bugs. Also, some of the stuff on Stranger Things. Its got some creepy things. If you’ve seen it, you know. What was the last thing you complained about? My pain.  What is the most valuable thing in your life? My faith and my family.  Who is the greatest singer who is no longer living? Hmm. What is the funniest movie that you have ever seen? I don’t know.  What is your favorite breakfast food? Eggs with country gravy, cream of wheat with milk, brown sugar, cinnamon, and a banana, hash browns, breakfast burritos, breakfast sandwiches.  If you were going to do karaoke tonight, what song would you sing? Pfft, I wouldn’t be singing.  What was the last movie you saw in the theater? Was it good? The latest Doctor Strange. It was awesome.  Are you more like your mother or your father? My mom. What are two things that you consider yourself to be very good at? Nothing.  What is the most played song in your music library? I haven’t listened to music much at all the past couple years to be honest. I don’t know why, it’s weird.  What is the worst physical pain you have ever been in? Pain after back surgery.  What is the funniest thing you have heard a child say? Who knows. They do say some funny shit sometimes, ha.  Who do you talk to on the phone most often? I very rarely talk on the phone.  What is your idea of heaven? A perfect place with no pain, sickness, or. sadness.   What’s one of the scariest things you’ve ever done? Go on a gondola ride 9,000 ft above ground. Terrifying, but also breathtaking in a good way. The views were amazing.  Do you like traveling? I do.  What are some things that make you really sad? My current situation definitely does.  How do you feel about public speaking? I hate it. It never got easier or comfortable for me no matter how many times I had to do it in school.  Have you ever watched the Superbowl all the way through? Nope. I’ve only watched the half-time show.  If you had to move to another country, where would you move? I don’t know.  When did you last step outside? What were you doing? I was going to the hospital.  Would you go bungee jumping or sky diving? Nooo. Would you rather have the power to be invisible or the power to read minds? Invisible. What are some compliments you get a lot? I don’t receive compliments too often.  If you were given the power to cure one disease, which would it be?  Cancer.  What do you do if you can’t sleep at night? Stuff like this.  Would you like to know the exact date of your death? Absolutely not.  In conversations, do you tend to listen or talk more? I’m much more of a listener. 

#personal #text #survey #surveys

[salamigerard]

@the-wheat-singer 😳😳😳😳

#speak the truth #the wheat salami alliance #the wheat singer

[writing-on-the-wahl]

Writing Snippet #5

Queen of the Harvest

*Vibe check: I listened to Warriors by Imagine Dragons while creating this one*

—————————————

Her city was surrounded.

The new queen sat on her throne, fingers brushing the oval sapphire hanging against her forehead as her advisors argued about what was to be done. Her golden hair stood in stark contrast to the dark wood of the throne, gleaming just as deeply as the the gilded heads of wheat carved into the back and sides of the chair.

She dropped her hand back into her lap.

“Could they not have waited for the mourning period to be over?”

Her quiet words brought a crashing halt to the debate.

“Your Majesty—” the Master of the Markets cautiously broke the silence, hands clutching the skirts of her dress.

But the young queen held up a hand. “There is no point going down that path, I know.” She turned to the old grizzled soldier standing near the throne.

“Master of the Watch?”

“Yes, my queen?”

“How many men do we have within the city walls?”

“Less than six hundred, Your Majesty.”

“Against how many?”

“At least five thousand, Your Majesty.”

She closed her eyes briefly.

“I thought Prince Raiiyn was busy attacking the Southwest border. Is that not why we sent nearly our entire army to repel him? And yet, somehow he is here, in the heart of our land?” She looked around the room, her slender brows raised in question.

“Your Majesty, the Crimson Prince is indeed at the border with part of his army. It is one of his generals that now beats at our door.”

“How much food and water do with have within the city walls?”

The Master of the Silos stepped forward. “Enough to feed our people for over a year.”

“If we use the seed intended for planting,” muttered the Master of the Planting.

The Master of the Silos ignored this remark. “But with last year’s drought... the harvest did not yield much. Now that you are queen and the rains have returned, the wells should be...” he trailed off at the raw sorrow upon the queen’s face.

He bowed low, fingers to his brow. “Forgive me.”

The queen offered a small nod and pushed her grief away. “How long would it take our army to return?”

The Master of the Watch shrugged hopelessly. “If they could disengage without being pursued by the Crimson Prince?” His tone suggested just how likely that was. “Ten days? Twelve? The cavalry could be here in three days, but that would leave our army weak, and 400 horsemen would do little against the army camped outside our gates.”

“They have little by way of supplies. Our people took every scrap of food they could when they retreated to the city. We can try to wait them out. The odds of them breaching the gate—”

“Maing Soundolung!” The doors of the hall burst open and a soldier rushed forward.

“Maing Soundolung!” He gasped out as he bowed, fingers to his brow.

Her eyes narrowed in concern. He was addressing her not as the nation’s queen, but as ruler of the harvest. It was the first time the honorific had been used since the sapphire had been placed upon her. Something was very wrong.

“The southern gate is on fire.”

The queen pushed off the arms of her chair and rose to her feet. The entire council bowed, fingers to brows, as she strode through their midst and out the doors. The hall opened up directly onto the hill overlooking the colorful city, which was bathed in the light of the setting sun. In front of her, smoke billowed from the distant wall, flickers of red and orange gleaming through the haze.

She walked across the stone landing until her bare feet rested on the grassy slope that led down to the city proper. Silence reigned as she closed her eyes and felt the earth.

Finally, she spoke.

“The roots are half an inch long. Master of the Fields?”

“They can handle some rain, but not much.”

“Master of the Planting?”

“We have enough seed to replant nearly three quarters of the fields, but that leaves us nothing for next year.”

Her shoulders rose and fell as she took a breath. “Then we will pray it is enough.” The council bowed their heads as one.

Then she slowly lifted her hands from her sides, raising them towards the heavens. Black clouds formed on the horizon and drew closer as her hands continued to rise. Soon the sun was blocked by the dark boiling clouds.

Her palms touched above her head, and the skies opened. Rain poured down.

Water dropped from her lashes as she lowered her palms until her fingertips rested against the sapphire that adorned her brow.

She kept her eyes fixed on the angry flames that fought against the downpour.

They must have used oil.

“Signal for the guards to abandon the southern wall and have the townspeople retreat to the northern quarter.”

The advisors eyed one another but hastened to obey. A horn rang out in four quick bursts.

When the answering horn replied that all was clear, she split her hands. The rains slowed as she raised her right fist to the clouds and stretched her left down to the earth.

“Can you aim that carefully, Maing Soundolung?” The Master of the Market asked hopefully.

“I can try.” she replied, her quiet voice grim but determined.

In one swift motion, she spread her fingers wide. Thunder shook the air as bursts of lighting split the sky, striking the ground beyond the southern wall in angry streaks of light and power. The thunder rolled unceasingly as lighting struck again and again.

Rain streamed down her arms and dropped off her chin, but the Queen of the Harvest did not cease until a horn blast signaled that the enemy was retreating.

As her arms fell weakly to her sides, the air stilled and the clouds began to retreat.

The council stood, frozen in awe, as the queen looked out at the scorched strip of earth between her city and the vast enemy encampment.

To the right, a brilliant sunset had turned the sky blood-red. A sign of what was to come if she followed this path.

“How fast can you get a message to our army?” She said, voice steady but eyes wide as she took in the destruction.

“Our fastest messenger bird could be there by tomorrow. Are you going to call for the cavalry?”

“No. That would only result in a slaughter.”

“Then what will you do?”

“I’m going to surrender.”

—————————————

She raised her hands to ward off the building protests. “I cannot fend off their attacks indefinitely without destroying the crops, and neither can our army keep the prince’s force at bay forever. If they take the city by force, they will show no mercy. If I surrender, I can negotiate the terms.” She swallowed, then continued. “He does not want this war to drag on either. They want to rule over Zea because they have no good soil of their own. They rely on our harvest as much as we do. He will accept—”

“You cannot negotiate with that monster!”

The queen turned her head to look at the Master of the Fields. “He is a prince, a not a monster.”

“The Crimson Prince is a demon!”

“Prince Raiiyn is a Tyger. If heightened senses and reflexes make someone a demon, then what does that make me?”

She gestured to the burnt earth behind her.

Her advisors did not speak, but the soldier who’d first brought word of the attack stepped forward. “It makes you Cerelia: Soundolung, Queen of the Harvest, Singer of Storms, Protector of Zea.”

He bowed, one hand to his brow, the other raised as if to touch hers. As he straightened, his burning eyes met hers. “It makes you our queen.”

She inclined her head, touching her sapphire, symbol of her role and conduit for her power. “Then as your queen, I must do what I can to protect our people. From starvation and enemy soldiers alike.”

“Your Majesty,” the old Master of the Watch was regarding her with sorrowful respect. “Surrender... you know the cost?”

She turned back towards the hall, where the doors still sat open, the last light of the day casting streams of light on the throne of gilded wheat.

“I know the cost.”

#queen #fantasy #short story #surrounded #surrender #queen of the harvest #snippet #my writing #writeblr #writing #crimson prince #prince #hero x villain

[aftaabmagazine]

The dambora narrates the history of the oppressed and reveals the secrets of the oppressor

The dambora narrates the history of the oppressed and reveals the secrets of the oppressor

O' dambora, my inseparable friend

O' storyteller of my ancestors' suffering

Speak of the secrets you have in your heart

Tell about the anguish of my dear people

Resonating in its cords, the spirit of the dambora carries the intimate sounds of the central region, echoing the pulse and emotions of its people. Today there is a battle between values, religious and intellectual. A cerebral sound vibrates in the core of the dambora songs.

The symbol of the dambora, vibrating in the heart of Bamiyan today, draws awareness to the promising new generation and the coming days of this land. The cries of displacement and oppression of these people have lived in the strings of dambora for countless years.

Some people were frightened that the oppression of others would be presented in the dambora songs. For this reason, this music in the central regions was condemned as sinful by the council of the ulema.

Instead of being understanding and sympathetic to the storyteller's tragic lyrics about the history of people's oppression of this land, religious authorities declared it forbidden because of individual and irrelevant prejudices. The dambora reflects the consciousness of the people's intellectual ascent against superstitions, ignorance, and conventions without impeding the ancestral religious beliefs.

The lyrical couplets sang with the dambora speak of the ruling order's tyranny because the verses were improvised from the heart of communities from this region.

The strings of a dambora play and share the years of tales of despotic rulers and oppressors.

Let's sing a duet

Let's sing in the style of the dambora

O' dambora take us with you

Your deep and high pitched sound

Tell the story about father

Tell about the oppression of the Rahmans *

Tell about the noble, gentle flights

Amidst the wheat-green valleys

The melancholy and broken voice of the people of the central regions played with the strings in the warm breath of the dambora player, and the accompanied couplets are deeply rooted in social and political matters. The elegant accompaniment of the musician and singer recounts social conditions and messages and preserves oral history.

By playing the dambora strings, the musician gives the closest image to the audience about Abdur Rahman's dark era and the suffocating social and political history. Performing the sorrowful strings connects the listener in the best way with the account of Abdur Rahman's despotism.

Let the dambora take you

Let it firmly grasp our heartstrings

The sorrow that is the king of my heart

Conquer the kingdom of grief

The sound of the dambora is considered to be the most enjoyable and lasting music in Hazarajat. The four seasons of the life of the Hazara people are intertwined with the dambora strings.

In recent decades, clerics and religious figures in the central regions scattered their dissenting views to oppose the spread of communism. Due to the awareness of "power in the shadow of religion" in the lives of ordinary people, radical clerics began to promote politico-religious ideas.

Unfortunately, today we see its crystallization in forbidding this unique musical form within the miraculous strings narrating the people's social, political, and cultural history.

- - -

* Amir Abdur Rahman (1880-1901) modeled himself after Peter the Great but ruled as Ivan the Terrible. As a vassal of British India, the British government supported him military and monetary to hold Afghanistan as a firm buffer state in the event of a Czarist Russian invasion into India. Amir Abdur Rahman secured the borders and unleashed a reign of terror on the population, including mass killings and displacement of thousands of people. His tyrannical legacy in the central region and other areas of Afghanistan is still remembered today.

This article was published in the July 7, 2017, issue of Shafaqna Afghanistan.

Translated from the Farsi Dari by Farhad Azad

Imagery by an unknown artist was also posted in the same article.

Music by noted vocalist and dambora player Safdar Tawakuli (صفدر توکلی) born in 1942 in Yakawlang, Bamiyan.

#Afghahnistan #Bamiyan #FolkMusic #Music

[chevrolangels]

When My Time Comes

death!cas,  3.3k

Continuing my tradition of posting ~spooky~ fics for Halloween, here’s a little thing with Death!Cas. I know we’re all freaking out with spn ending and a possible looming end for our fave so I hope this is a nice little au reprieve. The title is from 'Work Song' by Hozier, bc I needed to use one of his lyrics for a title eventually.

Enjoy.

read on ao3

The first time Castiel met him, he was crying.

 He beat out with his tiny fists, and his father dragged him away, but not before he managed to swipe at Castiel. His hand passed through him like mist, and Castiel felt a shock, like he had been plunged in icy water. 

 Castiel extended a hand, and he and Mary Winchester walked into the afterlife together.

 “Your son is a feisty one,” he told her.

“Good,” Mary replied. “He'll have to be without his mama.”

◆

“I know what you are.”

A man—boy, really—his hands clenched. He stared at Castiel, anger staining his soul. 

Castiel knew those eyes.

“You’re a reaper,” the man accused.

Castiel did not deny it.

 He simply stood, withdrawing his hands from the body in the alley. 

“That’s one word for what I am.”

The words dragged like rust in Castiel’s throat. It had been some time since he last spoke.

 “I've been searching for you. For years.” 

Castiel looked away, and said nothing. 

 The boy eyed him for several silent moments.

“Why can I see you?” 

 Castiel told him honestly. 

“I don't know.”

 Some of the tension bled from the boy’s shoulders.

“You got a name?” He asked gruffly.

 Castiel nodded.

“My name is Castiel.”

The boy took an abortive step forward, his fingers outstretched. Castiel did not move. 

He reached the outline of where Castiel’s shoulder should be, but touched nothing but air.

His hand dropped. 

“I’m Dean,” he said finally. “Dean Winchester.”

 “I know,” Castiel answered softly. “Hello, Dean.”

◇

“Why can't I touch you?” He asked, the next time they met.

 “Would you like to?”

 Dean thought for a moment, his brow furrowed.

“Yes.”

 Castiel stepped past Dean’s grandfather, lying sick in his bed. Castiel had never done it before, but he saw no reason why it wouldn’t be possible. He extended his arm and thought very hard.

He felt himself solidify, and Dean reached out tentatively, as if Castiel were poisonous. He touched the back of his hand.

His fingers were hot, searing flame, burning brighter than anything Castiel had ever known.

 Until, that is, Dean punched him in the face.

“That was for my ma,” he said.

◆

“I do not cause death,” Castiel said, many months later. “I am merely the link between worlds.”

 Dean lifted his head, shock crossing his pale face. 

“You again.”

His voice was hoarse, weakened through many nights of grief. Tragedy had once again come to their small community, and Castiel could feel Dean’s soul still aching from it.

Castiel stepped forward, looking at the cold form lying before Dean, life now burnt out.

“You were not related to this man,” he said, almost a question.

“No,” Dean answered shortly. 

“Ah.” 

 Castiel looked away. Even after all this time, the nuances of humanity still escaped him.

The silence between them stretched. Castiel furrowed his brow, searching for the appropriate words to use. 

“I’m sorry.”

 Dean said nothing, but his eyes widened, betraying his surprise.

“Dean.” 

Another entered the room, long hair skimming over reddened eyes.

“They want us outside,” the newcomer said, thin, tall, even younger than Dean. “You know. To say a few words.”

 His request was thick, choked. Castiel looked back from his face to Dean’s. Their pain was great, and shared. 

“Yeah, be there soon, Sammy,” Dean answered in a low voice, never taking his eyes off Castiel.

 The boy waited for a moment, eyes sliding towards the spot where Castiel stood, where to him was only empty space.

“You’re not still seeing ghosts, are you?” He asked, smiling wanly. 

His soul flickered, strangely dim. 

“Nah,” Dean answered quietly.

They did not speak after that, even after the boy left the room. Some time later, Dean left too, with a quick nod toward Castiel, so brief he might have missed it.

Castiel watched him go.

Robert Singer sighed, a wistful smile on his face.

“Well,” he said, turning to Castiel. “We’d better get goin’, huh?”

 Castiel nodded.

“Yes,” he said softly. “Let’s.”

◇

Revolution came. Blood ran through the streets and voices cried out in the dawn, the sound of shouts and guns being fired. 

 Dean lay slumped against a building, bleeding in the dirt—a wound in his thigh that desperately needed a doctor. Castiel waited by the dying body of Dean’s compatriot, watching soldiers run past.

Dean saw him and his face went pale.

 “Well, Castiel,” he murmured. “You comin’ to finish me off?”

 He knew. He knew if Castiel was there, it was already too late.

 He passed out soon after from the blood loss. Dean was not to die yet, but soon. Thirty minutes maybe, a stray bullet to the head. He would feel nothing. 

Castiel thought for a moment. Then he did something he was not allowed to do. 

 He picked up the dead comrade’s helmet and slipped it over Dean’s head, brushing the hair back from his glassy green eyes. Then Castiel gently laid him back against the building.

 “Not yet, Dean Winchester,” he whispered.

◆

Castiel was not sure why he did it. But nothing happened. No fire, no brimstone, no splitting of the fabric of time. Whatever cosmic consequences he had incurred lay quiet.

In the hospital, many died. Castiel checked on him frequently. By the seventh death, he was awake.

"Castiel," he whispered. “Cas.”

 The nurse hushed him and quickly turned up his medicine. Dean slipped back under—but not before he grabbed Castiel’s hand.

In sleep, he burns cooler, the swirling ocean during a storm.

◇

Dean sat there, sunken eyes, in a wheelchair. 

War brings out the demons inside.

"Y'know, I'm startin' to think you're following me."

 Castiel frowned. 

"You do not know this man. I believe you are the one following me."

"Yeah, well." Dean turned his head away, scratching at a cheek covered in rough stubble. "I had to thank you, didn't I?"

 Castiel hesitated.

"I did nothing."

"Sure."

 Dean picked at the edge of his bandage. A couple weeks and he'd be able to walk again. 

 "All I'm saying is, it's pretty nice I got the angel of death as my friend."

Castiel let out a small derisive sound.

"I am not an angel."

"Then what are you?"

Castiel thought for a moment.

"I'm not sure."

 Then, something in his words registered. Castiel looked at him curiously. 

 "Friend?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "Friend."

◆

Dean was not there when Castiel took his father. They hadn't spoken in years.

 “So that’s it,” John said flatly.

Castiel nodded.

“Yes.”

 John was silent for a long moment. 

“Guess there’s no talking my way outta this one,” he muttered. “No more deals to make.”

Castiel slowly shook his head.

 John looked back at his own body, tears welling in his eyes.

“Miss my boys,” he mumbled. “I shoulda...shoulda done more. Shoulda done right by them.”

He sighed, staring blankly at his hands.

“Guess it’s too late now.”

 Castiel spoke softly.

“Your son is a fine man.”

“Yeah?” John turned, raising an eyebrow. “How do you know?”

 Castiel avoided his eyes, holding out a hand.

"Come," he said. "Mary is waiting."

◇

"How come I see you so much?”

"Death is everywhere.”

"Then how come your name isn't...y'know. Death?” 

 "There are many old names for things. Everything changes with time."

Silence sat between them, comfortable yet steady.

"Is there a god?" 

"Why would you ask me that?" 

"Dunno. Figured if there was, they'd be your boss."

"If there is, I've never met them.”

“Huh. Told Sammy as much. He still thinks you don’t exist, by the way.”

“People find it hard to believe things they cannot see.”

“Mmm.”

“It’s something I have wondered, many times, Yet it remains mysterious, even to me." 

 Castiel looked down at his hands, the means of his lonely burden.

 "I am merely the ferryman,” he murmured. 

Dean nudged his shoulder.

"So the Greeks were right then?"

"What?"

 Dean rolled his eyes.

 "Never mind."

◆

When his next-door neighbor died on his kitchen floor, Castiel visited Dean. 

He was crying. 

“Dean.”

 He looked up slowly, eyes unfocused.

“My dad’s dead,” he mumbled. Castiel nodded.

“I know.”

 “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Castiel shrugged slowly.

 “I hadn't talked to him,” Dean said, a confession. “Not in years.”

“He mentioned you.”

Dean dropped his head back in his hands, shoulders shaking. Rather than comfort, Castiel’s words seemed to have the opposite effect.

 Castiel stood still for several long moments.

Then he knelt, reached out, and touched his cheek.

Tears clung to Dean’s lashes. He looked up at Castiel, shattered, laid bare, his rough exterior finally split open.

 Dean leaned forward, lips parting.

 This soft, broken man was the edge of a knife, a precipice for which there could be no coming back.

   Castiel brushed a thumb over the freckles dusting his skin—wheat and honey stars in a milky sky. 

And he kissed him.

◇

Dean still burns cool in his sleep. But they've evened out, and now, he feels like warm summer rain in Castiel’s arms. He has stopped shivering when Castiel holds him.

 “What do I look like?” Castiel whispers one night.

They do not have much time left. Castiel has been reckless, pushing the limits further and further each time he stays. He cannot begin to imagine what danger might come from his disobedience.

 “You don't know?”

Dean smiles, and starts to trace the lines of his face.

“You look human. Sorta.”

His fingers dance down Castiel’s jaw, sweeping across his chin.

“But...I look at you, and know you're not...y’know?” He laughs softly. “I can just tell. You're made of something else.”

Dean’s hands skim across Castiel’s bare throat.

“When you’re wearing clothes,” he continues, a hint of mischief in his tone. “It’s always the same ugly-ass coat.”

Castiel makes a small indignant sound.

“It is not ugly.”

“Just saying.”

Dean grins, loose and easy, tangling his fingers in Castiel’s own.

“You could rock the whole badass look. Black cloak, scythe—the whole deal.”

“The scythe was quite cumbersome,” Castiel deadpans.

 Dean looks at him for a moment until he realizes Castiel’s joking—and he laughs.

“And you got one hell of a sense of humor,” he murmurs, leaning in.

 Castiel accepts the kiss, closing his eyes. Despite all he’s seen, all he’s suffered, Dean is still so full of love. The resilience of humans will never fail to astound Castiel, but Dean is something else. 

He pulls back, smiling softly, then reaches up, tugging at Castiel’s hair. 

“This is brown. Really dark brown, almost black. Way darker than mine.” 

Dean looks at him, lowering his voice.

“Your eyes are blue, and they're the prettiest eyes I've ever seen.”

 Castiel catches his hand, pressing a small kiss to his palm.

Dean’s smile fades as he watches Castiel, his chest rising and falling slowly. Castiel’s does not. 

He does not breathe.

 “When I gonna die, Cas?” Dean whispers.

 Castiel goes still. 

Dean searches his face. 

“C’mon,” he says, a slight shake in his voice. “You gotta know.”

Castiel looks at him, and realizes he does not. 

 “I don't,” he says, shocking himself with the words. 

Dean doesn't heed him, barreling on.

“Because when I die, I mean what if—”

He stops, fear in his eyes.

“What if I never see you again?” Dean whispers.

 Castiel cradles Dean’s face in his hand, shaking his head, opening his mouth to whisper false words of comfort. 

That's when he feels a tug at the edges of his being, and he’s being pulled halfway across the world, to the next death. 

 The last thing Castiel sees are Dean’s panicked green eyes, before everything turns to black.

◆

“SAM, NO—”

Dean runs, his scream rending the night air.

“No, no, Sammy—”

He reaches Sam just before he collapses, dropping with him in the wet dirt. 

“Dean—” Sam chokes out, as the perpetrator runs away with his crime into the dark. “I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Hey, hey, no—it’s okay, alright?” Dean tries to pull him up, support him, even as Sam falls to his knees, slumping forward. “You’re fine—it’s fine, it’s not even that bad, it’s not—”

Dean cuts off. He lifts a shaky hand from the wet patch spreading over Sam’s back, seeing it come away covered in slick red.

“Shit,” he breathes lowly.

Sam says something, jagged and garbled in his throat. Dean shushes him, hands coming to his face. 

“No, no, Sammy, you’re gonna be fine—we faced worse before, you just need to—”

 Sam’s face is ashen white, his eyes starting to slip closed. Dean gasps back a choked breath.

 “C’mon, Sammy,” he begs. “Come on.”

He looks around, to cry for help, for something, anything—

And he sees Castiel.

 “No,” Dean breathes.

  “I'm sorry, Dean,” Castiel whispers.

  “No,” Dean snarls again, gripping the back of his brother's jacket.

He doesn't have long. Samuel Winchester’s heart is pushing the blood out of him, slowly but surely. It won't take more than a few minutes.

   Castiel takes a few steps forward, but Dean jerks back, dragging Sam backward, shielding him with his own body. 

 Dean meets Castiel’s eyes. He's broken. 

“No, Cas,” he whispers. “Please, no.”

Castiel’s hands tremble.

“I have to.”

Sam breathes in raggedly.

“Just a few more years,” Dean whispers. “Please.”

“I can’t,” Castiel answers softly. “Death demands life.”

“One year, just one year, c’mon, at least give him something—”

Dean stops, choking back sobs. His breath spirals silently into the night air, the ground slick with rain and blood.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel murmurs.

 He kneels beside them and places a hand on Sam’s forehead. 

Dean watches, bone-white and utterly defeated. 

Sam gasps.

“Dean,” he murmurs. “I...I see him.”

 Dean looks down at him, shocked out of his stupor.

“Y-yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Sam whispers. “Your angel...Cas.” 

Dean nods silently, tears dripping down thick and fast.

“He was real after all,” Sam mumbles, his head drooping onto Dean's chest.

 Dean stares down at his brother’s pale face, hands clenched in the loose folds of his jacket.

Seconds, now.

 Castiel closes his eyes. He has no heart, but he’s sure this is what it feels like when it breaks. 

“Take me.”

Castiel looks up sharply.

Dean’s jaw is set, his eyes are firm. 

 “Take me instead,” he orders again.

Castiel stutters, fear constricting his throat.

“Dean, I—”

 He stops, shaking his head. 

“I can’t,” he whispers.

“Bullshit, you can’t,” Dean spits back. “You saved me.”

 “I—”

 His argument dies in his throat. 

As Castiel beholds him, stares into Dean’s eyes—his fate is murky, the truth to Castiel lost in shadow.

  Dean reaches out, catching the edge of Castiel’s sleeve.

"Please," he begs. "Please, Cas."

  Castiel shudders, and looks back to Sam’s pale face.

“And you would leave him here alone?” He swallows thickly. “Without you.”

 Dean is silent for a long moment. When Castiel finally musters the courage to look back at him, his normally carefree face is drawn tight, resignation heavy on his shoulders.

“I ain’t supposed to be here, Cas,” he whispers. “I felt it. Ever since…”

 Castiel knows. 

Ever since he ripped up the rules, leaving nothing.

  “I was supposed to die,” Dean says quietly. “Maybe I should. “

Sam’s breathing slows, his face grows slack.

Dean tightens his grip, knuckles white. 

“It’ll be hard for him at first,” he breathes, looking down at Sam. “For—for both of us. But I know he’ll understand.”

 Castiel cannot think. Dean cannot fathom what he’s asking of him.

 “Cas.”

 Dean’s voice breaks on his name.

“Cas—please,” he whispers. 

A soft touch on his cheek.

 “We’ll see each other again,” Dean breathes, swallowing thickly. “R-right?”

Castiel folds his hand over Dean’s. 

“Right,” he whispers, but he’s not sure if it's true.

He slowly places his other hand on Sam’s, and looks up into Dean’s eyes. He nods, just once.

Sam bolts upright, just as Dean slumps over, the light fading from his eyes.

 Castiel sags, the transfer of energy leaving him weak. It's like watching a film in reverse—Sam rises dazedly, and when he understands what has occurred, he is the one now shaking his brother’s lifeless body, agony in his voice.

“Dean!” He calls, looking around wildly. “Castiel, you son of a bitch, don’t you dare—bring him back—”

He continues raging, cursing Castiel in one breath and begging for help in the next.

 “I’m sorry, Sam,” Dean whispers.

Sam stills, hiccuping.

“Be good, alright?” Dean continues softly. “You keep fighting. And take care of my wheels.”

Sam drops his head, stifling a choked laugh. Dean smiles, sad and bittersweet.

“Remember what Dad taught you, okay?” He murmurs. “And what I taught you.”

 Behind them, a soft white light begins to glow, banishing the obscure dark. Sam does not notice, or see. He is too caught up in his grief, mourning over a now-empty shell.

The universe demanded the soul of a Winchester, and it got one. Yet a life traded for another cannot move on. 

Castiel knows this. 

Beside him, Dean’s hand finds his.

Castiel shivers. Not candle-warm, like the other souls he’s helped cross over. Dean’s hand is as cold as his own.

 “Let's go, Cas,” Dean whispers. “I can't see this.”

They turn away, Castiel giving one last look to the brother they’re leaving behind.

 And they walk forward into the light.

◆◇

Castiel’s work has always been demanding. Souls dying everywhere across the globe, some within the same second. 

 With two, the job is somewhat easier. 

◇◆

She opens her eyes. She must’ve slipped under again, a brief respite from the pain.

She sits up and is surprised to find the motion does not hurt her. In fact, nothing hurts anymore. Instead, she feels only lightness.

“Well, you sure took your sweet time.”

   She turns, startled to see a man standing at the foot of her bed.

He clicks his tongue, pulling back the edge of a leather glove to tap a shining watch on his wrist.

“We’re late enough as it is,” he says expectantly. “And I don’t got all day, seeing as my brother’ll kill me if I don’t get to visit him again.”

He thinks a moment, then chuckles, a wry smile playing around his lips.

“Well.” He smirks. “He would if he could.”

 She blinks a few times, bewildered.

“Who are you?” 

 The man ignores her question, removing his gloves completely. He’s tall, impeccably dressed in a dark suit and black cloak. 

“Tessa, right?”

He smiles, extending a hand.

On his fourth finger is a ring, white ivory in a square setting.

 Tessa doesn’t move.

“I’m dead.”

 The man winks.

“Bingo,” he answers. “Or ‘condolences’, as Cas would say.”

 Before she can ask what that's supposed to mean, the man quickly checks his watch again, speaking brusquely.

“Okay, but seriously, come on.” He jerks his head, nodding over his shoulder. You’d think we’d have all the time in the world, but turns out we run on a very tight schedule.”

Tessa eyes him warily.

“And...where are we going?” 

“Y’know.” The man gestures vaguely. “On. As they say.”

“On,” she repeats.

 The man smirks.

“Yeah. Dust in the wind and all that.”

She frowns.

“What?”

“It’s a—” The man stops, waving an impatient hand. “You know what—never mind.”

 He turns, beckoning once again. Seeing no other option, Tessa falls into step beside him. 

Before them is a warm silver light, growing brighter by the second.

They reach the threshold of what seems to be a shimmering door, a gateway.

Tessa takes a deep breath. Despite everything, she is not afraid. 

 She looks back at her strange shepherd, gathering her courage.

“So.”

He glances up, raising an eybrow.

“You’re Death,” she says.

 The man chuckles, once again pulling on his black gloves.  

"Sure am," he answers, smiling. "Well—"

He shrugs.

"One of them, anyway.”

 He turns, holding a hand out for her to shake.

“You can call me Dean.”

◆◇

#destiel #my writing #when my time comes #death!cas #mcd #happy halloween!!!! #🎃 #too spoopy

[riftimagines]

Spirit Blossom!Thresh x Shadow Assassin!Kayn

This is literally just smut with a hint of plot. I’m not the best at writing smut but I was inspired to write this after someone, you know who you are :3, introduced me to this ship and we shared a lot of headcanons with them in different AUs but this is the one that came out. LOL. Also I recently made a A03 acc. called RiftWrites where I’m probably going to post my one shots there because Tumblr is kinda annoying with posting long stories RIP.

Warnings: Smut, Blood mentions, This has Thresh ffs XD

The smell of blood and death thickly floated in the air. The invading Noxians stood no chance against the blurry shadow that swept through the field and cleaved through them like animals for slaughter. It was like a creature from their worst nightmares but this creature was no creature but in fact, a man. The sheer speed and fluidity of his moments made him look like a living shadow, something that was created by magic and in a way was. The gifted shadow magic Sheida Kayn possessed was only enhanced further by the defeat of the Darkin scythe, Rhaast. Its defeat gave him unholy amounts of power and transformed the young man into a terrifying shadow assassin. His power showed on this day as there was more blood then grass on this once pristine grassland. Bodies lay askew where flowers once bloomed and from the corpses rose a particular bloom. A Spirit Blossom. This year was the year they had returned after thirteen years and now sadly they would leave again and with them the souls of the dead of this land both Ionian and Noxian. The sky began to fill with the blossoms of the dead Noxians and began to float away, good riddance. Now to get rid of what little was left.

In the not so far off distance a force was awakened. The sounds of lost spirits called out and from the realm of the dead came a seeker of said souls, a demon that sought to collect all the spirits and show them their true potential. Its unnatural purple skin and white hair contrasted against the natural hues of the forest. It seemed not to care as it stood out for anyone to see its vision became set as the brilliant flowers in the sky sang to collect them.

“No worries little spirits, your safe with me now.” Its reverberated voice rang out. From its left side it brought forth a lantern in the shape of a demons face almost similar to his own. A smile curled upon its lips from beneath its golden jaw plating as the Spirit Blossoms came down and closer to him. The spirits are completely unaware of what was happening when the lanterns mouth suddenly opened and began to pull all the souls into it. So many spirits to gather today, like harvesting wheat freshly cut in fact they seemed like they were. The Spirit Blossoms were fresh, very fresh, and seemed to becoming from a certain direction, interesting. Curious as to where they were coming from the demon begins to walk towards the origin of all these blossoms while gathering them a long the way. It did not take long for the purple hued evil to find the source. A battlefield, how quaint. There had been much delectable suffering and pain. Ah, if only he had heard the screams, the sweet tones of misery. As if on command of thought, the sounds of screaming and wailing called, now that was a lovely sound he could not resist. The siren sounds cried out like the most beautiful chorus and soon lead to its singers.

The bodies fell left and right as a blur of blue and darkness swooped through the poor mortals and razed them. There was no mercy, only pain just like the demon liked it. Its bright lavender eyes became transfixed at the lithe form doing a dance of death leaving blood and agony in its wake. Who was that glorious creature? It did not seem to notice the demon at the edge of the battle watching every deadly moment in awe. The dance continued for a few moments longer before the final howls of despair fluttered into nothingness. The shadow finally stops and reveals to the demon a divine looking man. He had never seen a human look so, alluring. His pale skin tattooed with dark lines that traveled from his eyes across his face, down his chest and completely engulfed his forearms. Such a lovely being, he must know more about this beauteous agent of death, no time like the present to make a blunt entrance. With a couple spins of its sickle it launches it at high speeds to the target and it snags its very soul.

Kayn is completely confused as a small scythe attached to a thick cord wraps around him. It should have been easy to cut but the cords were seemingly harder then steel and did not break, instead they pulled harder as the strangest looking fiend he’d ever seen comes flying at him. For a moment he feels panic as his powers don’t let him escape, the magic cord holds him still. No attack ever came though, just the sound of evil laughter fills his ears. He looks at the monster before him with wide eyes. What was this thing?

“How adorable, so confused and so scared. I won’t hurt you though little one. I am Thresh, collector of the Spirit Blossoms. Do not let my frightening visage fool you, I am but a humble guide to these poor spirits and bring them up to their full potential. It seems though you have found your full potential early, so tell me what are you my dear?” He coos softly. Kayn was having none of that though.

“I am Sheida Kayn, and I care not what you are monster I will not obey you!” Kayn’s scythe came barreling towards Thresh’s neck and had he been anyone else he would have been dead. The demon sighed then pulled hard on the chains sending Kayn into a tree and his scythe out of his hands.

“A feisty one aren’t you? I’m not surprised but make no mistake, I do know how to put wild spirits back in their place.” He says as he picks up the shadow assassin by the throat, pushes him against the tree and squeezes slightly. A sudden moan that catches both Kayn and Thresh off guard. A wicked grin spreads upon the demons face and Kayn seizes up. He squeezes again experimentally and again the soft moan flutters into his ears. Oh now that is a nice sound. Kayn suddenly feels fear, a feeling he had not felt in a long while, and tries to phase though the tree only to be stopped by the white cord wrapped around his waist keeping him from escaping.

“ Now, now, little pet, don’t leave so soon, we just discovered something new! Here lets make this more interesting shall we? I believe the blossoms from this field should be enough.” Suddenly the demonic lantern opens up again and the Spirit Blossoms make their way inside. It’s eyes begin to blaze and the demon removes its hand from Kayn’s throat to call upon its power. A pulse of energy burst forth from Thresh and five ghostly purple walls seemingly arise from nowhere. The more startling part wasn’t the box that surrounded them now but the fact that the demon was changing. Its dark purple skin became a light alabaster, hair a dark black with purple hues, and its horrifying mask was now replaced with a gorgeous man. It was so jarring to see something so terrifying turn into something so beautiful. Thresh smiled smugly at Kayn, no one could resist this form, perhaps now he’d get more of those lovely sounds.

“Ah, how is this? Not to bad if I do say so my self. Now where were we?” His hand returns to grasp at his neck this time though his other hand begins to graze his sharp claws down his chest. A nail catches his skin and leaves a little scratch it its wake making Kayn hiss. Thresh’s eyes glaze slightly at the sound of pain, so heavenly, he needs more. Dark purple nails trace all over Kayn’s torso leaving more cuts and scratches all over but none enough to be agonizing or lethal, Thresh is having too much fun with this one for him to die yet. Through the rough ministrations on his body Kayn’s breath had hitched and his nerves turned on to high. Every touch was doing something to him that wasn’t really pain. A tight, warm feeling starts to form in his lower abdomen. Thresh can see a redness spreading upon Kayn’s face.

“Enjoying your self? It’s rude to keep all that pleasure to yourself you know?” With unseen swiftness the small gap between them is closed and their lips are intertwined. It’s a rough and hungry kiss almost like he couldn’t get enough. Kayn had not experienced much physical affection but this was something greater then those little kisses he’d seen couples share. They are both bare chest to bare chest breathing hard into each other until Kayn could not breath. They break panting hard and Thresh’s eyes are fully glazed over and glowing deviously. In a split second his mouth is on Kayn’s exposed neck and is biting down hard. Kayn yelps loudly then goes into a deep moan as Thresh works the bite into what will be a deep dark bruise. The tight feeling rushes downward to his groin and an involuntary buck of his hips follows. The demon stops biting his neck and moves up to nip at the shell of his ear before whispering low and deep.

“Such an eager little spirit. You want me to claim you don’t you? Want me to collect your body and soul?” Kayn can’t speak the sheer amount of arousal is drowning his mind but he can feel himself nod and his hands try to pull Thresh closer. The cord unfurls its self from his waist and find new residence binding his hands instead now. Thresh raises his hands and the cord upwards to a branch to keep Kayn’s hands up.

“Yes, I know you want me but you’ll get me as I give myself to you. No sooner, no later.” He purrs lowly. With hands now bound and pinned above his head it gave the devious soul collector free reign of Kayn’s body. His talons raked across his body and mouth working anywhere that looked like a tender spot. Scratches and bruises start to decorate pale skin and leave their new owner writhing in pleasure. The firmness in his pants was agonizing, far more so then the slightly bloody cuts. Thresh was in a no better state. His normally composed visage was flustered across his face all the way to the tips of his pointed ears. His own member throbbing for attention.

Not wasting anymore time those claws were put to the test as they tore through the thick cords that held up Kayn’s pants effectively loosening and dropping them. Kayn gasps as his warm, hardened nether regions are exposed to the elements, clear fluid already seeping from the end. The demon growls deeply at the sight and is quick to rid himself of his binding clothing. Tossing them aside he strokes his manhood gently, electing a rumbling purr from his chest. Kayn can see through half lidded eyes the demons length and a shiver runs down his spine. He isn’t familiar with others genitals but he is bigger then himself by a bit and quite thick. Thresh moves in again and lifts Kayn’s hips up to line up before pushing in. Kayn’s eyes go wide at the foreign felling of being filled. He’s moaning, writhing and trying desperately to get accustomed to this new sensation. Tears start to pool and fall down his face which are then licked up by the eager demon.

“Easy now my pet, just relax. Let me handle everything.” He coos into his ear and leaves a kiss where a stray tear is falling. The pleasantries are gone in moments though as Thresh begins to move. The pace starts slow but then begins to build and soon its a quick relentless pace that leaves Kayn completely breathless. His whole body feels limp as if all his strength has left him, the strength of the demon alone is the only thing keeping him up. Every harsh thrust seems to hit a spot that has his eyes rolling back and him moaning and gasping loudly. The sounds and the sensation of Kayn tightening around him sends Thresh on a marking spree, covering as much skin as he can into deep colors. It’s all so much for Kayn and in a moment of bliss his sight blurs and he can finally feel himself release. He can hear a deep animalistic growl and for a few seconds his hips are grabbed so hard he swore the bone would bruise as Thresh rams into him sending Kayn’s blurred vision into pure white and his hearing completely gone. The whole world fades for who knows how long before his vision is restored and the demon is slowly pulling out of him. He now hangs there on the tree limply, unable to will his now exhausted muscles to move even an inch. A whine escapes him as Thresh fixes himself up.

“Now, now, I know you miss me. I’ll get to you in a moment.” He places his clothing back into place and almost seems like nothing happened to him at all. He goes to the side of the tree and binds the forgotten scythe to his back before coming around and pulling Kayn’s pants back up. As soon as the cord to the sickle is removed Kayn drops like a rock right into Thresh’s arms. His body is too weak to fight him off and lets his head lull onto the demons shoulder. He smiles down at the tired human in his arms and places a small kiss upon his crown.

“You may rest now dear. I won’t let anything happen to you. Your mine now you know, nothing will take you from me and you certainly won’t get away from me from now on. So get used to being where you are for your going to be there for the rest of eternity.” He says all too gleefully while holding him tightly. Kayn thinks for a moment of what he’s done. He’s now bound to a soul taking demon, but a soul taking demon that has given him more attention in about an hour then he’s received in his entire life. Thats not entirely to bad he thinks. He looks up at the handsome face that looks down at him with a smirk and dips down to place another kiss, this time to his lips, that’s most certainly something he could get used to.

#Kayn #Thresh #Spirit Blossom Thresh #Shadow Assassin Kayn #League of Legends

[vampiresuns]

Day 3: Magic

@arcana-echoes​​‘ masterlist for the dynamic trio, but two days later with iced coffee.

CW: allusions of drowning. No one drowns or is brought to harm, but Milenko’s magic has to do with water immersion, so I have to give a heads up.

Aelius Anatole | Extracts Of The Diaries of A. Anatole Radošević On His 17th Year

As it can be read in the fic linked, Anatole has both language and light magic. He is adept in both of them whether in his generic timeline, or his apprentice timeline.

His light magic includes light manipulation, creating sources of light, creating transitory objects out of light. He can also capture other sources of light and, with the aid of his language magic, transfuse them into another vessel.

One of his favourite things to do, and one of the first ways it manifested, is making water sparkle like it’s being hit with sun-rays. It’s a nice soothing trick he finds himself doing when idle.

He found out that he can circumvent his way around other kinds of magic by manipulating light sources and light itself. For example, all optical illusions are by default light tricks, since the way we see things is by light reflecting on them. That way, he doesn’t need to learn how to manipulate the object, when he can manipulate the light which allows you to see it.

That way, he minimised learning other magical specialities, usually just studying only its principles, and finds a way to work on the effect using light as the cause.

He acts both as a source/creator of light, and a conductor of light.

On the other hand, his language magic entails: enhanced language learning, glyph usage, and it gives him easier access to other forms of magic which depend on language from linguistic manipulation and creation, to incantations, spells, and the like.

It’s most defining characteristics are Anatole being a language sponge, and it’s intentionality.

As a result Anatole learns languages faster than the average person, with more ease, and usually to a bigger depth. He still has to learn them: he is not able to speak or understand every language just because it is spoken to him, and when he uses language magic, if he doesn’t know the language to any degree, it’s less effective. This is how he speaks 9 languages with fluidity and is seeking to learn more.

He is able to tell the intention in people’s words, so he can tell if you’re being honest or not, or if there’s something other to your words. For example, if someone lies to him, while he is not able to magically know what truth the lie is hiding or deflecting, he can tell it is a lie; he is usually smart enough to figure the rest on his own. Thus, lying, bluffing, schmoozes, and empty flattery has little effect on him, unless you’re truly, really skilled at them.

He discovered his language works not on volume, but on intention and action, so as long as he is able to find an equivalent for action symbols and enact them, he himself becomes the print of the magic, it’s caster and the vessel it is poured into. He is also able to write things down, and work around that with his magic, for example: glyphs or simply writing a spell down will make the spell work for him.

Downsides of this are: he is not immune to language burnout, or to overstimulation. His is a magic that works both with intuition and brain power, and if you mix it with his ADHD, there can be some days he is more sensitive to the receptive part of his magic, and get tired or overwhelmed easily. It is exhausting to walk through a city and constantly filter through everything everyone says that’s within hearing range.

Any sort of spell casting, creation, incantation, or anything of the like, requires something in exchange: usually magic seems like creating things out of thin air, but Anatole knows matter is never destroyed, simply transformed, and this is one of the most important principles which rules his magic. It is easier to create things with light than from words, because as long as he has access to the sun, light is more or less a constant source of matter to transmute into something else. His own energy will only be affected when he’s in absolute and total darkness. Doing anything with language magic that isn’t learning or filtering, will immediately use his energy. While his stamina is decent, running on the higher end, he is not inexhaustible.

He is, also, generally able to fend himself with potion making and that part of alchemy, this is mostly because alchemy relies on symbols which are language, and because making potions tend to come with “arbitrary”/set rules, and grammar tends to work in the same way. He is generally able to enhance whatever other type of magic with language, altering or augmenting the desired effect. For the longest time, he did not notice he did this, and he only noticed because when he magically dyed his hair, the blonde he got was more iridescent or incandescent than when applied by someone else.

His gate is a winter wonderland. It’s a perpetually snowy forest, with an ever shining winter sun. You access it through a river — the way to cross the river varies — and in the middle of it, there is a cottage which responds to spoken word. It has easy access to the Hierophant’s realm* if you go East, Strength’s if you go South, and the Realm of Swords if you go West. He doesn’t go much to the latter, the Ace of Swords usually meeting him on the river if he must.

*Anatole does not have Hierophant Patronage, but he has a strong connection to someone who stands for this card, so his relationship to the Hierophant is usually one which reminds him to go to his roots. It’s the affection one feels for the child of a very good friend.

Amparo Cassano | Greenhouses Filled With Ghosts

(art by virink, source)

With Patronage of Death and the Ace of Wands, Amparo has both animancy and elemental (sand/glass) magic.

Amparo’s magic works in the same way as the conductor of a séance does: she is a gate for energy, not someone who controls death, ghosts or those who have already passed. She is able to sense and summon spirits based on the energy imprint they leave in their wake.

She is also able to see them, though not all the time. She would be the quickest one to grasp Lucio’s ‘ghost’, and with less effort, because she intuitively knows what to look for.

If she honed her magic a little bit to the left, she would be able to control energetic fields altogether.

Her magic becomes stronger once Death stops being so overtaken by Valdemar. While most of what she does with it is out of training her ‘magic muscles’ and training herself to see what others can’t (plus her natural tendency to dig into affairs until she finds a cause for them), her magic is meant to be connected to her patron arcana, acquiring a qualitative jump after Death is able to move with more space.

She is also meant to take over the other animancer of the Cassano family: Valerian Cassano, one of Anatole’s great grandfather, who is, coincidentally, also a man of theatre and Opera, just like Amparo is a ballerina, performer and Opera singer.

To her, ghosts, and the energy people leave — which is what she calls ghosts, traces of something else — are like greenhouses. The are transparent, yet you still have to walk into them, and they do not hold flora in their natural environment, but in a reproduction of it. Yet, much can be learnt by this reproduction.

Since her animancy works with energy, she is intuitively able to read on people’s, making her vibe checks impeccable, as she is able to tether to people: either to find them following their energy if she concentrates, or to call them to her. Sometimes, she does this unaware that she is doing it. One example is when she isn’t the apprentice, but Milenko or Anatole, when they would be able to feel a tug towards wherever Amparo is.

She is limited by distance, amicability of the spirit, and her own energy.

When it comes to her elemental magic she is able to manipulate rocks into sand, and sand into glass — as she is able to crystallise matter — as well as directly manipulating glass. One of it’s earliest manifestations is Amparo playing with sand in the beach as a kid, sticking her hand into it and finding seaglass, unaware that she was the one producing it.

She tends to keep crystals around her from which glass can be made of, specially a vial of sand or of silica powder.

Once she has glass, which already exists or that she herself formed, she is able to manipulate it into different shapes, the most usual being trinkets and weapons. She too fences, and she is able to procure herself a sword made out of glass, as she is able to do the same with knives, or sometimes simply produce crystal shards.

She is limited by the existence of matter she can take, as unlike Anatole, she is not able to create, or seemingly create, things out of the blue, she needs to have the components already at her reach.

Out of the three, she is the one who reads Tarot or Runes the best. This is because each card or symbol represents a specific kind of energy, and she is able to pick up on it. Her cards are the chattiest.

Her gate is a vast wheat field on a stormy day. Every time a lightening struck the earth, it doesn’t scorch the wheat, but manifests a spirit which might want to communicate with her. To travel to other realms all she needs to do is pull out the right wheat and a lightening will strike and form a gate of passage for her.

She always knows which the right one is.

Milenko Radošević | No One’s Cassandra

Milenko’s magic is the flimsiest of the three, not because it’s weaker, but because that is how it works.

We’re going to need a bit of history for this one: Milenko’s grandparent, Ilnya Radošević was clairvoyant — however, they weren’t a trained one, so while Ilnya had a notorious amount of potential (they could’ve become a full fledge oracle) to the point their clairvoyance strongly manifested on its own, the gift wasn’t fully passed onto the generations because no one knew what it was. Ilnya themselves didn’t think they were clairvoyant. It has harder to pinpoint things when you don’t have a name for them.

However, it poured through this side of the family. Ambrosije, Milenko’s uncle who’s an archaeologist and explorer somehow always knows where things are and can see things so clearly without actually seeing them. Milenko’s mother Violeta has gut churning feelings, and she can almost visualise things with astounding clarity when music plays.

Milenko? Didn’t inherit the gift of prophecy or clairvoyance on itself but Milenko is able to see things, visualise concepts and situations, being able to have “visions” through water.

He gets transfixed by water in general, specially when it moves. It still works on still water, but it manifests better on water which moves. It also works with water that glistens.

It doesn’t happen at will, only at random.

Because he’s Milenko and that means something eventually has to be ominous enough to the point of “hey, quick question, what the fuck?”  sometimes while completely transfixed by water, he walks into it and submerges himself completely.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he’s drowning. He isn’t. He “walks” into water and comes back completely soaked, aware he was in the water but also he didn’t see the water, he SAW. What? It depends. It doesn’t always translates to a prediction, he’s no one’s unheard Cassandra. Sometimes he just visualises things either his patron Arcana wants to show him, or the world at large, or things and concepts that come from his own mind.

For example, he has water vases where he moves water from one to the other to help him think. He is a writer, and sometimes this is a way to get visualisation of his own ideas and his own subconscious. He is a poet born in water.

One of the few non fencers of the family, he developed an affinity for water and is a swimmer instead — it helps that this magic ability makes him able to hold his breath for beyond average periods of time. 

The first time he did the ‘walking in water’ thing he was 10, and his mothers almost had a heart attack. He came out completely unscattered, talking about what the colourful fishes had showed him. When taken to the doctor, he was cleared of any sort of damage and showed no signs of drowning or inhaling water. This is how they got derived to someone who was knowledgeable in magic, the ability finally getting a name. 

The big side effect is that sometimes it makes him draw out completely of the world around him, or it comes to him in weird/bad timing moments. While he was travelling around while he was privately tutored, he was very careful not to be near the railings of the ship on his own, lest he fell in the water. He would be fine, his ability comes with no physical harm to him, the problem would arise when he emerged, and the ship would be gone if no one noticed he had fell. Has also come to him while someone pours out beer because it’s any kind of running water — brings out a whole different meaning to cracking a cold one open with the boys.

Is this why bathrooms are such a good source of ideas? Maybe. He isn’t one to dismiss the grandiose of a good bathroom trip.

Because his ability seems to show up the most at random, so even if he was taught how to hone it or about it, it still isn’t something he can control at will, he is the one who has learnt the most about other types of magic which are not his one. If you took everyone’s specific magic specialisation, and you left them with the bare bones of magic, Amparo and Anatole would still be adequate to genuinely good magicians, but Milenko would be the best.

His gate is, unsurprisingly, a system of underwater caves. It is perfectly fine to breathe through that water for anyone who is there, but most people who ever go with him (when someone else has gone with him that is) prefer the drier parts of it, as not everyone finds it easy to decide they don’t need to breathe or that they won’t drown.

#the arcana #the arcana mc #the arcana oc #arcana echoes #echoes of the past: amparo #echoes of the past: anatole #echoes of the past: milenko #my writing #aelius anatole #amparo cassano #milenko

[mystiika]

   i mean you can read if you want? but it’s mainly for my own notes to refer back to.    hades in ovid metamorphoses book v & the orphic hymns

Bk V:332-384

Calliope sings: Cupid makes Dis fall in love

 ‘This much she played on her lute, with singing voice. Then called on us, - but perhaps you are not at leisure, or free to listen to a repetition of our music?’ ‘Do not stop’ said Pallas, ‘but sing your song again as you arranged it!’ and she sat amongst the light shadows of the grove. The Muse renewed her tale ‘We gave our best singer to the contest. Calliope, who rose, with her loose hair bound with ivy, tried out the plaintive strings with her fingers, then accompanied the wandering notes with this song.

 ‘“Ceres first turned the soil with curving plough, first ripened the crops and produce of the earth, first gave us laws: all things are Ceres’s gift. My song is of her. If only I could create a song in any way worthy of the goddess! This goddess is truly a worthy subject for my song.

 ‘“Trinacris, the vast isle of Sicily, had been heaped over the giant’s limbs, and with its great mass oppressed buried Typhoeus, he who had dared to aspire to a place in heaven. He struggles it’s true and often tries to rise, but his right hand is held by the promontory of Ausonian Pelorus, and his left hand by you, Pachynus. Lilybaeum presses on his legs, Etna weighs down his head, supine beneath it, Typhoeus throws ash from his mouth, and spits out flame. Often, a wrestler, he throws back the weight of earth, and tries to roll the high mountains and the cities from his body, and then the ground trembles, and even the lord of the silent kingdom is afraid lest he be exposed, and the soil split open in wide fissures, and the light admitted to scare the anxious dead.

 ‘“Fearing this disaster, the king of the dark had left his shadowy realm, and, drawn in his chariot by black horses, carefully circled the foundations of the Sicilian land. When he had checked and was satisfied that nothing was collapsing, he relinquished his fears. Then Venus, at Eryx, saw him moving, as she sat on the hillside, and embraced her winged son, Cupid, and said ‘My child, my hands and weapons, my power, seize those arrows, that overcome all, and devise a path for your swift arrows, to the heart of that god to whom the final share of the triple kingdom fell. You conquer the gods and Jupiter himself, the lords of the sea, and their very king, who controls the lords of the sea. Why is Tartarus excepted? Why not extend your mother’s kingdom and your own? We are talking of a third part of the world. And yet, as is evident to me, I am scorned in heaven, and Love’s power diminishes with mine.

 ‘“‘Don’t you see how Pallas, and the huntress Diana, forsake me? And Ceres’s daughter too, Proserpine, will be a virgin if we allow it, since she hopes to be like them. But you, if you delight in our shared kingdom, can mate the goddess to her uncle.’ So Venus spoke: he undid his quiver, and at his mother’s bidding took an arrow, one from a thousand, and none was sharper, more certain, or better obeyed the bow. Then he bent the pliant tips against his knee, and with his barbed arrow struck Dis in the heart.”’

“Venus of Eryx, from her mountain throne, Saw Hades and clasped her swift-winged son, and said: ‘Cupid, my child, my warrior, my power, Take those sure shafts with which you conquer all, And shoot your speedy arrows to the heart Of the great god to whom the last lot fell When the three realms were drawn. Your mastery Subdues the gods of heaven and even Jove, Subdues the ocean’s deities and him, Even him, who rules the ocean’s deities. Why should Hell lag behind? Why not there too Extend your mother’s empire and your own….? Then Cupid, guided by his mother, opened His quiver of all his thousand arrows Selected one, the sharpest and the surest, The arrow most obedient to the bow, And bent the pliant horn against his knee And shot the barbed shaft deep in Pluto’s heart.” ― Ovid, Metamorphoses

Bk V:385-424

Calliope sings: Dis and the abduction of Proserpine

 ‘“Not far from the walls of Enna, there is a deep pool. Pergus is its name. Caÿster does not hear more songs than rise from the swans on its gliding waves. A wood encircles the waters, surrounds them on every side, and its leaves act as a veil, dispelling Phoebus’s shafts. The branches give it coolness, and the moist soil, Tyrian purple flowers: there, it is everlasting Spring. While Proserpine was playing in this glade, and gathering violets or radiant lilies, while with girlish fondness she filled the folds of her gown, and her basket, trying to outdo her companions in her picking, Dis, almost in a moment, saw her, prized her, took her: so swift as this, is love. The frightened goddess cries out to her mother, to her friends, most of all to her mother, with piteous mouth. Since she had torn her dress at the opening, the flowers she had collected fell from her loosened tunic, and even their scattering caused her virgin tears. The ravisher whipped up his chariot, and urged on the horses, calling them by name, shaking out the shadowy, dark-dyed, reins, over their necks and manes, through deep pools, they say, and the sulphurous reeking swamps of the Palici, vented from a crevice of the earth, to Syracuse where the Bacchiadae, a people born of Corinth between two seas, laid out their city between unequal harbours.

 ‘“Between Cyane and Pisaean Arethusa, there is a bay enclosed by narrow arms. Here lived Cyane, best known of the Sicilian nymphs, from whom the name of the spring was also taken. She showed herself from the pool as far as her waist, and recognising the goddess, cried out to Dis, ‘No’, and ‘Go no further!’ ‘You cannot be Ceres’s son against her will: the girl should have been asked, and not abused. If it is right for me to compare small things with great, Anapis prized me and I wedded him, but I was persuaded by talk and not by terror.’ Speaking, she stretched her arms out at her sides, obstructing him. The son of Saturn could scarcely contain his wrath, and urging on the dread horses, he turned his royal sceptre with powerful arm, and plunged it through the bottom of the pool. The earth, pierced, made a road to Tartarus, and swallowed the headlong chariot, into the midst of the abyss.

Bk V:425-486

Calliope sings: Ceres searches for Proserpine

 ‘“Cyane, mourning the abduction of the goddess, and the contempt for the sanctities of her fountain, nursed an inconsolable grief in her silent heart, and pined away wholly with sorrow. She melted into those waters whose great goddess she had previously been. You might see her limbs becoming softened, her bones seeming pliant, her nails losing their hardness. First of all the slenderest parts dissolve: her dusky hair, her fingers and toes, her feet and ankles (since it is no great transformation from fragile limbs to cool waters). Next her breast and back, shoulders and flanks slip away, vanishing into tenuous streams. At last the water runs in her ruined veins, and nothing remains that you could touch.

 ‘“Meanwhile the mother, fearing, searches in vain for the maid, through all the earth and sea. Neither the coming of dewy-haired Aurora, nor Hesperus, finds her resting. Lighting pine torches with both hands at Etna’s fires, she wanders, unquiet, through the bitter darkness, and when the kindly light has dimmed the stars, she still seeks her child, from the rising of the sun till the setting of the sun.

 ‘“She found herself thirsty and weary from her efforts, and had not moistened her lips at any of the springs, when by chance she saw a hut with a roof of straw, and she knocked on its humble door. At that sound, an old woman emerged, and saw the goddess, and, when she asked for water, gave her something sweet made with malted barley. While she drank what she had been given a rash, foul-mouthed boy stood watching, and taunted her, and called her greedy. The goddess was offended, and threw the liquid she had not yet drunk, mixed with the grains of barley, in his face. His skin, absorbing it, became spotted, and where he had once had arms, he now had legs. A tail was added to his altered limbs, and he shrank to a little shape, so that he has no great power to harm. He is like a lesser lizard, a newt, of tiny size. The old woman wondered and wept, and, trying to touch the creature, it ran from her and searched out a place to hide. It has a name fitting for its offence, stellio, its body starred with various spots.

 ‘“It would take too long to tell through what lands and seas the goddess wandered. Searching the whole earth, she failed to find her daughter: she returned to Sicily, and while crossing it from end to end, she came to Cyane, who if she had not been changed would have told all. But though she wished to, she had neither mouth nor tongue, nor anything with which to speak. Still she revealed clear evidence, known to the mother, and showed Persephone’s ribbon, fallen, by chance, into the sacred pool. As soon as she recognised it, the goddess tore her dishevelled hair, and beat her breast again and again with her hands, as if she at last comprehended the abduction. She did not know yet where Persephone was, but condemned all the lands, and called them thankless and unworthy of her gift of corn, Sicily, that Trinacria, above all, where she had discovered the traces of her loss.

 ‘“So, in that place, with cruel hands, she broke the ploughs that turned up the soil, and, in her anger, dealt destruction to farmers, and the cattle in their fields, alike, and ordered the ever-faithful land to fail, and spoiled the sowing. The fertility of that country, acclaimed throughout the world, was spoken of as a fiction: the crops died as young shoots, destroyed by too much sun, and then by too much rain. Wind and weather harmed them, and hungry birds gathered the scattered seed. Thistles and darnel and stubborn grasses ruined the wheat harvest.

Bk V:487-532

Calliope sings: Ceres asks Jupiter’s help

 ‘“Then Arethusa, once of Elis, whom Alpheus loved, lifted her head from her pool, and brushed the wet hair from her forehead, saying ‘O great goddess of the crops, mother of that virgin sought through all the earth, end your fruitless efforts, and do not anger yourself so deeply against the faithful land. The land does not deserve it: it opened to the abduction against its will. It is not my country, I pray for: I came here as a stranger. Pisa is my country, and Elis is my source. I am a foreigner in Sicily, but its soil is more to me than other lands. Here is my home: here are my household gods. Most gentle one, preserve it. A fitting time will come for me to tell you, how I moved from my country, and came to Ortygia, over such a great expanse of sea, when you are free of care, and of happier countenance. The fissured earth showed me a way, and slipping below the deepest caverns, here, I lifted up my head, and saw the unfamiliar stars.

 ‘“‘So, while I glided underground down there, among Stygian streams, with these very eyes, I saw your Proserpine. She was sad indeed, but, though her face was fearful still, she was nevertheless a queen, the greatest one among the world of shadows, the powerful consort, nevertheless, of the king of hell!’ The mother was stunned to hear these words, as if petrified, and was, for a long time, like someone thunderstruck, until the blow of deep amazement became deep indignation. She rose, in her chariot, to the realms of heaven. There, her whole face clouded with hate, she appeared before Jove with dishevelled hair.

 ‘“‘Jupiter I have come to you in entreaty for my child and for your own’ she cried. ‘If the mother finds no favour with you, let the daughter move you, and do not let your concern for her be less, I beg you, because I gave her birth. See, the daughter I have searched for so long, has been found, if you call it finding to lose her more surely, if you call it finding merely to know where she is. I can bear the fact that she has been abducted, if he will only return her! A spoiler is not worthy to be the husband of your daughter, even if she is no longer my daughter.’ Jupiter replied ‘Our child is a pledge and a charge, between us, you and I. But if only we are willing to give things their right names, the thing is not an insult in itself: the truth is it is love. He would not be a shameful son-in-law for us, if only you would wish it, goddess. How great a thing it is to be Jupiter’s brother, even if all the rest is lacking! Why, what if there is nothing lacking at all, except what he yielded to me by lot? But if you have such a great desire to separate them, Proserpine shall return to heaven, but on only one condition, that no food has touched her lips, since that is the law, decreed by the Fates.’

Bk V:533-571

Calliope sings: Persephone’s fate    

 ‘“He spoke, and Ceres felt sure of regaining her daughter. But the Fates would not allow it, for the girl had broken her fast, and wandering, innocently, in a well-tended garden, she had pulled down a reddish-purple pomegranate fruit, hanging from a tree, and, taking seven seeds from its yellow rind, squeezed them in her mouth. Ascalaphus was the only one to see it, whom, it is said, Orphne bore, to her Acheron, in the dark woods, she not the least known of the nymphs of Avernus. He saw, and by his cruel disclosure, prevented Proserpine’s return.              Then the queen of Erebus grieved, and changed the informant into a bird of ill omen: she sprinkled his head with water from the Phlegethon, and changed him to a beak, plumage, and a pair of huge eyes. Losing his own form he is covered by his tawny wings, and looks like a head, and long, curving claws. He scarcely stirs the feathers growing on his idle wings. He has become an odious bird, a messenger of future disaster, the screech owl, torpid by day, a fearful omen to mortal creatures.

 ‘“He indeed can be seen to have deserved his punishment, because of his disclosure and his words. But why have you, Sirens, skilled in song, daughters of Acheloüs, the feathers and claws of birds, while still bearing human faces? Is it because you were numbered among the companions, when Proserpine gathered the flowers of Spring? When you had searched in vain for her on land, you wanted, then, to cross the waves on beating wings, so that the waters would also know of your trouble. The gods were willing, and suddenly you saw your limbs covered with golden plumage. But, so that your song, born, sweetly, in our ears, and your rich vocal gift, might not be lost with your tongues, each virgin face and human voice remained.

 ‘“Now Jupiter, intervening, between his brother and grieving sister, divides the turning year, equally. And now the goddess, Persephone, shared divinity of the two kingdoms, spends so many months with her mother, so many months with her husband. The aspect of her face and mind alters in a moment. Now the goddess’s looks are glad that even Dis could see were sad, a moment ago. Just as the sun, hidden, before, by clouds of rain, wins through and leaves the clouds.

Orphic Hymn 17 to Pluton

Pluto, magnanimous, whose realms profound are fix’d beneath the firm and solid ground, In the Tartarian plains remote from fight, and wrapt forever in the depths of night; Terrestrial Jove [Zeus Khthonios], thy sacred ear incline, and, pleas’d, accept thy mystic’s hymn divine. Earth’s keys to thee, illustrious king belong, its secret gates unlocking, deep and strong. ‘Tis thine, abundant annual fruits to bear, for needy mortals are thy constant care. To thee, great king, Avernus is assign’d, the seat of Gods, and basis of mankind. Thy throne is fix’d in Hade’s dismal plains, distant, unknown to rest, where darkness reigns; Where, destitute of breath, pale spectres dwell, in endless, dire, inexorable hell; And in dread Acheron, whose depths obscure, earth’s stable roots eternally secure. O mighty dæmon, whose decision dread, the future fate determines of the dead, With captive Proserpine [Kore], thro’ grassy plains, drawn in a four-yok’d car with loosen’d reins, Rapt o'er the deep, impell’d by love, you flew 'till Eleusina’s city rose to view; There, in a wond'rous cave obscure and deep, the sacred maid secure from search you keep, The cave of Atthis, whose wide gates display an entrance to the kingdoms void of day. Of unapparent works, thou art alone the dispensator, visible and known. O pow'r all-ruling, holy, honor’d light, thee sacred poets and their hymns delight: Propitious to thy mystic’s works incline, rejoicing come, for holy rites are thine.

Orphic Hymn 28 to Pluton

Daughter of Jove [Zeus], almighty and divine, come, blessed queen, and to these rites incline: Only-begotten, Pluto’s [Plouton’s] honor’d wife, O venerable Goddess, source of life: 'Tis thine in earth’s profundities to dwell, fast by the wide and dismal gates of hell: Jove’s [Zeus’] holy offspring, of a beauteous mien, fatal [Praxidike], with lovely locks, infernal queen: Source of the furies [Eumenides], whose blest frame proceeds from Jove’s [Zeus’] ineffable and secret seeds: Mother of Bacchus [Eubouleos], Sonorous, divine, and many-form’d, the parent of the vine: The dancing Hours [Horai] attend thee, essence bright, all-ruling virgin, bearing heav'nly light: Illustrious, horned, of a bounteous mind, alone desir’d by those of mortal kind. O, vernal queen, whom grassy plains delight, sweet to the smell, and pleasing to the sight: Whose holy form in budding fruits we view, Earth’s vig'rous offspring of a various hue: Espous’d in Autumn: life and death alone to wretched mortals from thy power is known: For thine the task according to thy will, life to produce, and all that lives to kill. Hear, blessed Goddess, send a rich increase of various fruits from earth, with lovely Peace; Send Health with gentle hand, and crown my life with blest abundance, free from noisy strife; Last in extreme old age the prey of Death, dismiss we willing to the realms beneath, To thy fair palace, and the blissful plains where happy spirits dwell, and Pluto [Plouton] reigns.

#miscellaneous tag tba. #❘❙❚ ┊ hades. character study ➳ ❛ knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom ❜

[britishchick09]

1984 livewatch

the time has finally come to watch the full movie! it’ll be sad, it’ll be disturbing, it’ll possibly be cringy, but it’ll be a lot of fun! :D

we start out with the mgm lion! noice ;)

epic quote B)

wait why is opera music playing i thought we’d start at the 2 minutes hate

OMG what if they’re gonna hate on opera

this looks like a drive-in movie tbh

narrator: “this is a land of peace and hope, a land of plenty...” OH SHUT UP YOU

they’re showing wheat like it’s little house on the prairie BOI YOU’RE IN LONDON

this is epic propaganda B)

what if the war footage was taken from ww2 and thus... isn’t real :o

HOLD UP is the eurasian war racist?

THE QUEEN HAS ENTERED THE CHAT

WHAT ARE THEY ALL SHOUTING I CAN’T HEAR WHAT THE FDR GUY IS SAYING SHUT UPPPPP

oh no it be u (his face is like ‘WHAT IS GOING ON’ and it’s very lol)

julia’s so into this! :o

o’brien’s like ‘ohhh!!!’

look who decided to SHOW UP FINALLY

he pauses a bit before reluctantly joining in yas ♥

OMG THIS IS LIKE A SCHOOL ASSEMBLY STOP TALKING GEEZ

good they stopped!

WOWWW DON’T EVEN LIST SUZANNA HAMILTON’S NAME WITH THE OTHERS GIVE HER A ‘WITH’ CREDIT WOWWWWW

this IS a school assembly they’re going back to work!

winston in glasses *chef’s kiss*

ooh a rotary dial! great use of tech from when the book was written :D

winston’s looking over at syme WITH SO MUCH JEALOUSY lol

what if the words they speak are just random stuff with no meaning

OMG confession!!!!!

poor winnie with his cough :(

this confession sounds JUST LIKE WINSTON’S OMG!!!!

winston: “bugger!” he’s a brit lol :D

epic B)

OMG this guy read goldstein’s book SO DID WINSTON!!!!

i love how the diary is in a brick hole that’s so cool :D

the diary scene was filmed on april 4th just like in the movie so that’s way rad man :D

i want you valley!!! :D

ooh they’re put a smol scene of his childhood in there coolio! :D

he  s l e e p

this violin squeak tho :o

OMG THIS IS THE STANDING UP SCHOOL SCENE

it’s not but i can easily imagine it lol :D

he’s a stick omg ;o

when the lady talks to him you know it’s not a recording ;)

lady: “anyone under 45 is perfectly capable of touching his toes” BOI

oh no PARSONS

parsons: “choco rations are going up” c h o c o

parsons: “i seem to have run out of razor blades for some reason’ yeah,,, for some reason... ;)

this is so a cafeteria scene at school

THEY SAW EACH OTHER OMG

♫ i suddenly see him standing there, a beautiful stranger tall and fair, i wanna stuff this weird food in my faaaace! ♫ :D

me: “this is so romantic!” winston’s thoughts: “lemme smash HER WITH A ROCK”

wait did the lady say pineapple grenade???

HIS FACE LOOOL

syme rip boi

the 11th edition isn’t thicc :/

aww winston’s smol nod ♥

parsons: “by 2050 we won’t have conversations like this!” yeah because of screens lol

OMG the food looks and taste like meat but isn’t IT’S PLANT BASED MEAT!!!! :o

parsons just pulled a ‘hey need help with that?’ and put winston’s food on his plate EPIC

julia’s lookin’ at u ;)

YAS PROLES HOPE!!! :D

oh no DON’T TALK ABOUT THE 50 YEAR OLD WOMAN SEX WINSTON

OH NOOOOOOO

he liked the ‘bright red lips’ yet...

THIS CHICK’S LIPS AREN’T BRIGHT BOI

poor baby desperate for money :(

let’s GET THIS BEAT

hand on cheek = doublepluscute ^_^

epic foreshadowing B)

OMG CHESTNUT TREE POEM FORESHADOWINNNGGGGGG

OMG a couple is making out in the bar EPIC

winston’s just like ‘nnope’

OMG THE THOUGHT POLICE WERE FOLLOWING????

he’s at an antique store in prescott bless his heart ♥

mr. charrington sounds so kind WHYYYY

THE BIRTH OF A QUEEN ♥

mr. charrington says ‘4 dollars’ but they’re in london??

YAS BELLS OF ST. CLEMENS!!!! :D

winston: “what was that?” mr. charrington: “something old.” no DUH

they see each other againnn!!!!! :D

winston writes that he hates her SAME WITH A LOOK LIKE THAT

OMG SMOL WINNIE BIG O’BRIEN????? :o

his mom is lying dead in the field like the erza kid in ‘kirsten’s promise’ :(

he’s just... staring

OMG SPYING ON THE SPICY STARING ACTION :o

she PLONKED

that ‘ow!’ was so fake jules!

this is like anna and hans but not as bad underneath!

julia: “it’s nothing!” but this is turning out to be something... ;)

we’re half an hour in and wowza it’s gone by so fast! :D

winston: *gets a cute love note from julia* YEET!

THE HELICOPTER IS BACC!!!!! they’re really not making the spying subtle

OMG THIS IS THE THOUGHT CRIMINAL SCENE YAAAAS!!!!! :D

winston is the best plummer confirmed

kid: “you’re a thought criminal!” winston: *gives a slight ‘wha’ face and smiles* ICONIC

:)

the crowd is clapping and cheering over the war yet winston’s not doing anything SAME

jules is just scooching by lol

HAND HOLDING WHILE PASSING A NOTE OMG ♥♥

the sky does exist! :o

the telescreen has some great music :D

winston’s joining the ‘big man’s hiking group’ suure you are... ;)

the train is going to the beat of the kids’ singing coolio! :D

big brother is called ‘bb’ yas bby!

YEEES THE I WANT YOU VALLEY SCEENE!!!!!

the lq audio made the twig crack and the leave brushing really weird lol

winston: “i want you.” I-CON-IC!!!! :D

THAT SMIRK THO

winston: “i want everyone corrupt.” julia: “i’ll suit you, then. i’m corrupt to the core.” *mal screech*

OH NONONONOONO SHE GONNA TAKE HER TOP OFF BI PANIC BI PANICCC!!!!!

she really went commando huh

ALL THE WAY

the sex looks like it hurts NO WAY MAN NOT FOR ME NNNNOPE

i’m glad it was only a part you couldn’t really see and not a full on thing I DON’T NEED THAT

awww she’s so peaceful after big naughty :)

this is vaguely gay...

aww winston’s hair ruffling in the wind ♥

c r o n c h

also did he just cronch into a potato???

OMG THIS IS JUST LIKE SCHOOL

teacher: “when the orgasm is finally eradicated...” totally julia: “NOT ON MY WATCH”

winston is the kid who smokes in glass while julia is the one kid who Just Doesn’t Care lol :D

thoughtcrime THIS IS THOTCRIME

wow syme is still alive?

julia: “you dropped your ink pencil” you mean pen?

winnie’s back in prescott! :D

the room is 4 bucks a night noice B)

BACC TO THE H8 BBY

the modern say 2 minutes hate is probably just a livestream with kids texting ‘h8 xd’ in the chat lol :D

winston’s thoughts: “she who is so careful...” boi she threw a dictionary at the telescreen in the book THAT’S SO NOT CAREFUL

hey girl CUTE LQ SMILE YOU HAVE THERE!!! :D

YAS THE REAL COFFEE SCENE!!!!! :D

she has so many smiles YAS!!!!

she’s so eager with showing him I LOVE YOU SO MUCH JULES ♥♥♥

she says ‘real sugar, real bread’ and... jam

winston: “how did you manage to get all this?” jules has her ways... ;)

winston: “i want you” julia: “i want you too” YAS :D ♥♥

the thiccc singer is here!! :D

she’s so pretty! ♥

aww the stroke ♥

his hands are shaking as he touches her :(

winston: “freedom is the freedom to say two plus two equals four. if that is granted, all else follows” iconic!

YAS THE PAPER!!! :D

it be gin time ;)

he scratches the face off the gin bottle woah :o

I JUST REALIZED THAT THIS IS O’BRIEN :o

winston’s little ‘yes!’ at getting the 10th newspeak dictionary ♥

that’s a look of longing my friends! :o

winston: “the call has come. all my life i’ve been waiting for it...” and now he’ll go into the unknown... ;)

AAND we cut to naked julia eating an apple! slight bi panic

she’s touching the paperweight queen love it ♥

SHE KNOWS THE CLEMENS YAS!!! :D

julia: “i just know it!” BOI YOUR G-PA HELPED OUT

winston: “the only thing to do is to walk out of here before it’s too late” thus my ‘julia lives’ au comes in! :D

winston: “never seen one another again” ...oh he was talking about that NOT IN MY AU SON

julia: “you do, i do.” omg marriage :o

YAAAS JULSTON KISS!!!!!!! :D

fluffy! ♥

julia: “i love you.” awww :)

winston: “julia. do you think the resistance is real?” julia: “none of it’s real.” STRAWBERRY FIELDS FOREVER!

♥

OMFG THERE WAS AN EXPLOSION :o

work is scrambling like eggs!

poor headache bby! :(

epic B)

winston’s dreaming of his bishy selfish chocolate mom adventure!

the rats were there when his mom and sister were vaporized! :o

she’s in the dress! ♥

they’re talking about betrayal and julia’s like ‘they can’t do that!” OH BOI BUT THEY CAN!!!!

julia: “they can’t get to your heart” aww :)

awkward...

winston sees o’brien WITHOUT JULIA THE F????

this feels like the principal’s office lol :D

o’brien’s voice is so deep and british ♥

the way he clutches the newspeak dictionary is so cute! :D

aww he’s stroking the pages as he reads :)

the oceania anthem sounds russian :o

YAAAAAAAASSSS!!!!!!! :D

so soft ♥♥

winston: “julia, my love.” MY LOVE MY LOVE AHHH!!!! :D

YEES THE COFFEE SMILEEE!!!!! :D

she’s hungry... she wants coffee... who’s gonna tell her coffee isn’t food?

omg i saw winston butt :o

:)

winston: “she’s beautiful.” julia: “she’s a meter around the hips easily” winston: “that’s her standard of beauty.” YAAAS!!! :D

winston: “the future is ours.” YAS

OH CRAP THEY SAID ‘WE ARE THE DEAD’ NOOOO

mr. charington is loud compared to how i thought in the book

his ‘you are the dead’ should’ve been quieter like winston and julia’s then he could be loud!

FBI OPEN UP!!!!!

charrington: “here comes a candle to guide you to bed, here comes a chopper to chop off your head!” OHHHH NICE ONE MR C!!!!!! :D

RIP TO A QUEEN :’(

i should be a bit more heartbroken BUT THAT MR C RHYME MAN

OMFG THEY JUST BEAT UP JULES

SHE’S IN SO MUCH PAIN NOOOO :’(

why does he look old

awww :(

delete the drunk old lady BUT GIVE US PARSONS SUUURE

i dread the scene to come...

parsons didn’t say that he said ‘down with big brother’ so that’s a bummer :/

aww poor parsons he’s crying! :(

oh SNAP room 101!!!! :o

poor parsons but at least that scene wasn’t a thing!

OUCH THAT SMACC LOOKED LIKE IT HURT

is this leading into the bloody mouth scene? I STILL NEED TO KNOW WHAT THAT IS

winston doesn’t know where he is IT’S THE I WANT YOU VALLEY!!!

hold up this is just a vision ok BUT WHERE’S THE BLOODY MOUTH SCENE

frankenstein and spirit halloween called!

also o’brien flipped the switch without warning BISH

o’brien: “you suffer from a defective memory” and you suffer from a BISH MEMORY SIR

remember winston it’s all in the mind... ;)

WHY DID O’BRIEN SHOCK  WINSTON HE SAID FIVE

'how many fingers’ is a trick question because winston sees four YET WE SEE FIVE OHHH

mother gothel vibes...

awww winston’s little scared squeak :(

winston: “i don’t know... i don’t know!” SAY FIVE WINSTON SAY FIVEEEEE

o’brien’s voice is so calming yet it spouts evil words...

julia immediately betrayed winston BECAUSE SHE HAD A ROSEMARY KENNEDY yet she’s somehow still alive without damage by the end???

ooh a new shot! :D

they just faded to black and showed a new angle which is a bit weird...

o’brien: “you’re thinking that my face is old and tired...” because it belongs to poor richard burton!

o’brien just yoinked winston’s tooth out tho :o

mother gothel strikes again!

winston to o’brien: “i love you.” you don’t say that back to jules YET YOU SAY IT TO O’BRIEN BOIIIII

o’brien: “you’re one of us. one of the chosen.” one of us gooble gobble! also ANAKIN IS THAT YOU????

winston just said ‘i love you’ oMG OMG OM WAIT WWAIIITIT

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :D

seconds after she says ‘i love you too’ SHE’S FREAKING SHOT DAAANG NO PUNCHES PULLED BACK!!!!!

aww he called her ‘my love’ even in a dream

so that was the infamous bloody mouth scene and it was quicker than i thought it would be? at least i have a bright julia smile! ♥

OMG winston’s calling for her yet it sounds so weird WHYYY

he’s much improved!

they’re skyping lol

after all he’s been through he still hates bb! :o

ROOM 101 :o

room 101 is a personalized experience just for you! :D

also IT’S A DREAM MIRROR

omg the rats are GOING AT EACH OTHER GEEZ

winston’s squeak at the rats no!!! :(

‘do it to julia’ sounds a bit selfish but it’s the betrayal we’ve been waiting for!

...NOT

uh oh here comes the awkward reunion...

they should’ve said “...sup.” to each other

the bartender saying “on the house!’ tiredly each time is great :D

winston: “thank you for coming.” julia in her thoughts: “yeah whateves bro.” :/

at least they can still bond over something :)

jules gin time ;)

they ratted out on each other true love???

julia: “we must meet again.” winston: “yes, we must meet again.” ...they never met again

but if they did it would be a bro time!

winston: “i have seduced party members of both sexes” BI NANI???? :o

since his crimes are like the guy’s from earlier... what if he didn’t do them and was convinced that he did? :o

in the book he says i love you to bb, but here he turns away and says it... what if he still loves julia? :o

and with that question, the movie has come to a close! it’s a fantastic little film that closely follows the book. while i would’ve liked to see julia with winston at o’brien’s and the drunk jail lady, the cutting of the gross parsons scene, the addtion of the bloody mouth scene and the possibly hopeful ending make up for it. overall, this is an amazing adaptation of such a great book! :D

#livewatch #i bet this is just as good as the book! :D

[grind-pantera]

Bar Night Tango. ( Billy Joel Oneshot. )

It’s me ya girl.............. With a 3K word billy joel oneshot that will get zero notes. please enjoy thank u 

Title: Bar Night Tango.  Pairing: Implied! Billy Joel x Fem! Reader. Words: 2934. Rating: T ( LANGUAGE, mild harassment.) 

There was an intense smell of three things, some of which made you want to shift in your seat to get farther away from it while there was one that ultimately made you stay in your spot. Beer, that ghostish and wheat scent that tickled your nose, body heat in the form of sweat. It was an already muggy evening and cramming bodies together in a minuscule bar that was meant for maybe ten people, was less than ideal. People were shoving against your back as they passed by, beer foaming from over their glass, down to catch on their hand and even down their arms depending how rugged they moved. The last smell that was in your vicinity was that of your friend across the table, the entertainment of watching other people all too amusing for his green eyes to be torn from. People watching was something the brunette in front of you quite enjoyed. Whether for the sake of being the wallflower or for the fact that watching people revealed more about them than speaking… At least, this was something that you noted he did when you two went out like this, ironic in the sense that you found some pleasure in watching him watch others, waiting for the day that his eyes are pulled from them and are fixated on you. Waiting or dreading for that day, you were unsure because it left so much unknown. Why would he look at you like that? With that gleam of curiosity he so often let be expressed upon his face from the way his eyebrows arched, to the way that his lips would curl in a cute fashion, the tapping of his fingers against the table as he went ahead and read your face like an open book. A grin, not a smile, you corrected yourself, fingertips rubbing the top of your half emptied beer.

Despite what your nose was smelling, there was nothing like the exhilaration of being shoved into a bar that he’d suggest, in fact, you knew that you would yearn for this feeling once the night was over and he dropped you off at him, giving you a glance over his shoulder to make sure you made it inside okay. His smell was distinctive to you, you had grown so accustomed to it that it felt you were bathing in it at times. His favorite kind of cigarette as if there was one between his plush lips at this very moment but there wasn’t, it was simply on his breath that seemed to hitch for a split second as he glanced your way, giving that typical Billy smile. Crooked, off to the side and bashful in some twisted innocent way. He didn’t know and from that smile, you could tell. He had no idea that as you looked at him, your heart would heave up to your throat and almost linger there the entire night, strangling you. Reminding you that friend was all you were. Friends this, friends that. 

You’d push aside that feeling of losing air, of drowning in things like his smell, like the bounce of his hair as he readjusted himself in his seat, moving slightly closer to you with a lean in. “Ya good?”

“I’m fine.” You squeaked out, being thrusted back into the reality of what was happening. No secret glances between the two of you, no silent words being spoken through body language. It was just another Friday night with your three favorite B’s. Bars, Beer and…. “Billy.”

Billy had lit a cigarette, when you were unsure but it was sitting snug between his pointer and middle finger, his hand so effortlessly draped over the ashtray on the table as the cherry fell off the tip and burnt out quickly. “Whattda want?” If he said that in any other tone you’d have been offended but alas. That was just his way of speaking. Absolute New York Style. Sharp and to the point. Attention was drawn from each other momentarily as a new pianist made their way to the stage, mumbling something to a passersby or a friend before taking their seat in the almost scorching spotlight.

“I’m going to pop to the bar to get water, it’s way too hot in here.”

With that being said, a smile popped onto Billy’s face as if he was saying to you, ‘I’m the only hot thing in here.’ Or maybe, it was just your fantasizing mind that imagined him saying that to you with a mere tilt of his lips that quickly turned a smile into a suggestive smirk. “Grab me one while you’re at it, needa replenish before more beer.” Licking his slightly dry lips, he watched the pianist on stage trickle their fingers along the black and white keys. If he wanted, Billy could absolutely play every single one of them under the table. But, there was no sense in showing off. Well, there was a minor sense to go up there and play a fistful of songs… He tilted his head towards you, dilated green eyes scanning your face as you slipped off your seat.

“Gottcha.” Billy graciously handed you a few dollars that should cover the waters and a small tip for the bartender who was no doubt trying to keep up with the rampant amount of people who showed up to Open Mic night. “I’ll be quick.”

“Impress me with your speed.”

Rolling your eyes, you put a hand on his shoulder when you passed him to get to the bar with a coy, “Don’tcha know speed is a turn off for ladies?”

Billy threw his head back at that with a laugh, subconsciously raising his hand to his now barren shoulder, rubbing where you had so kindly rested for a brief second in some meager attempt to hold onto that feeling of pressure. His laugh died down in the sound of the piano and others chattering all around him, the smile that had consumed him when you where around falling as he drew his bottom lip in and nibbled upon it. Reaching over the table to where you were sitting, he picked up your half-drunk beer and chugged the rest of it himself, slamming the glass down onto the table upside down. He’d get you another one if you wanted, but this was your third and you never seemed to finish it, asking with those pouty eyes for him to finish it because it would be such a waste… Those eyes, Billy thought and looked over his shoulder at you. You were leaning against the wooden bar, which admittedly, looked as if it were ready to topple over if one more person leaned against it. He wished you were facing him, looking back with that awkward wave you gave people when you didn’t know what else to do. Billy wished for a split second that you’d come back with the waters, rest them on the table and run a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes while saying something like, ‘How can you see with your hair all up in your face?’

‘No thank you.’ Reading your lips, he shook his head and pulled focus back. There was someone next to you now, and if he had been paying attention instead of daydreaming about something that would never happen, he’d have noticed them a minute ago, sauntering up to you. Quite literally sauntering. Billy hadn’t ever seen someone move with such faux vigor before. Cocky bastard, he thought to himself with a roll of the eyes, probably not enough to satisfy anyone so he’s gotta act, pity. That was spiteful, he was being mean as a way of coping that someone who wasn’t him… Was very obviously flirting with you. There was a swell in the singer's chest. As if he could satisfy anyone anymore, a lot like this moron next to you. He was an acquired taste and those who wanted him he very seldom wanted back. Now, with you… That would be different. He’d jump the gun at that opportunity, if you wanted him like that. 

“Really, you don’t need to buy me anything.” Laughing nervously, you grabbed the two waters that the bartender had given you, the icy drink feeling great against the sweat of your palms. “I’m here with someone---” “Why didn't he come get your drinks then, pretty thing?” The man next to you uttered a bit too closely to your ear. “If I were here with ya, I’d treat ya like a princess. Get ya all the drinks ya want… how about something a little fruity? Ya don’t look like the type who drinks beer.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. Was… Was that meant to be a compliment? Because it sure as hell was. Not. Irritated, you faced him with a nere shit-eating grin. “I fucking love beer. Now, excuse me.”

“That ain’t no way to talk to a man who just offered to buy you a drink!” His voice raised an octave. “Yo should be fuckin’ over the moon you even got my attention! You goddamn bitch.” 

This ogre of a man had gotten closer to you as he spilled insults from his lips. One after the other, and it left you with a bit of whiplash. First, he offers you a drink, twice, obviously not willing to take no for an answer, and when no was the ultimatum, the tables turned and you were everything he didn't want. You weren’t an easy woman and you didn't want to go down without a fight but when he grasped hold of your wrist, keeping you planted without any means of escape, no biting sarcasm or fighting words seemed to come to mind. In fact, you were petrified as stone, staring at him with wide eyes as you wiggled your wrist, trying to get free. Your lips parted but the voice that came out wasn’t your own.

“Let go of her.”

“Now the shrimps are talkin’.” The asshole in front of you sneered at Billy as he stood up beside you, the light from the bar illuminating his face. If he was terrified, he wasn’t showing it. But, it was typical Billy style to cover it up, especially when he came to the defense of someone. Protective by nature, you considered him though you weren’t sure if that was such a good quality now as this guy grasped your wrist harder, surely leaving a lovely bruise to be admired later.  “Why don’t you take a walk and leave the business to me and the pretty gal here?”

You gasped at the stinging sensation on your skin.

“Ah fuck you.” Billy snapped, grabbing the waters out of your hands and resting them on the bar. “She said no, how many times does she gotta say it?” You weren’t sure how, but Billy managed to muster himself between you and the guy, your wrist now free for your hand to rub gently, regaining feeling in it. “No is no, shit head. Fuck off ‘less you wanna go out back and maybe throw a few hands. Winner gets to buy the girl her drinks for the rest of the night.”

“Little shirmp has a fuck ton to say.” The burly man muttered, “I’d beat you into a pulp that even orange juice wouldn’t want.”

Billy didn't flinch as this man leaned forward, getting precariously close to him that he could feel his beer-bitten breath all over his face. “Wanna fuckin’ bet, asshole?”

“Billy, I dunno, he’s reall---” 

Holding up his hand, Billy stopped your sentence from finishing with one quick motion, not taking his eyes off his now new-named opponent. You sputtered to a stop and peered at his hand before looking at the side of his face. He was completely stone. No emotion but disgust and pure anger shining on his usually bubbly face. He was scowling and while that was attractive in its own right, you found yourself almost flopped over in worry. Digressing was obviously no good, you thought and bit your lip nervously. A fight over you? You weren’t worth that and well… Billy wasn’t the biggest of guys, he wasn’t the strongest and the only sure fire thing he had was passion and determination, which would no doubt get him along but only so far until one punch too many to the face knocked him on his back and out cold. Swallowing back the urge to yank his shoulder and pull him away from a no brainer fight, an action that would no doubt wound his pride a bit, you took a deep breath in and let him use his words first.

“You,” Billy pointed at him, his finger digging into this man’s chest. It looked painful, you thought to yourself, poking at so much muscle and fat. “Me, outside. We’ll see who turns off the---”

He was socked in the face before that statement could even be finished. The next few seconds seemed to go in slow-motion, watching as Billy was punched right square in the face, nose bending to the side slightly, eyes squeezing shut as the pain exploded in his brain, sending the signals to the rest of his body that he had just been attacked. The fall back against you as you struggled to keep him up right and had you not been right behind him, you were positive his back and the floor would have had a lovely time meeting. Shit, you thought, wide eyed. You couldn’t hold him up, falling to the ground with him slowly, your arms awkwardly placed under his arm pits as his upper half leaned back against yours. “Oh shit…” You whispered, looking up at the jerk who probably just broke Billy’s nose. “What the fuck is your issue?! You can’t just go punchin’ people who---” “He was in my way.” “Fuck you!” Your voice was more than loud, it seemed to dim down the rest of the sounds around you. “Fuck off!” And that he did, at the leniency of the security guard who just happened to watch the entire scenario unfold. A tiny sense of happiness did run over you watching the macho man being escorted from the building with fits of anger, “I did nothin’! That bitch and that shrimp---!” You didn't hear the rest of that statement as he was shoved outside. 

Billy’s nose was bleeding. You couldn’t tell from which nostril, probably both. And from the look of it in the dim light coming from the bar, he was definitely bruised around his left eye. It was a good hit. And if he weren’t unconscious, you’d hear it from him, ‘Can you believe I took a hit like that?’ He brag, no doubt. He’d be cocky, no doubt. Laughing slightly at that, you pushed down the tears that you felt were going to roll down your cheeks and shifted to caress his face softly. “Billy?” You whispered, now having to ignore the fact that you were sitting on a dirty bar room floor with your friend, almost lifeless in your arms as a few tears finally peaked from your eyes. They rolled down, catching on your chin before dropping onto Billy’s face, mixing with the blood running from his nose. “Oh my god please wake up, I don’t wanna explain to the police---”

“Am I in heaven?” Billy muttered, coughing a bit as he finally came to. There was a rush to his head, a sense of adrenaline that often came after a fight. He seemed to struggle catching his breath, coughing the blood that had seeped into his mouth back up, his green eyes shut for a moment before they blinked open. Narrowly at first, he looked at you, his bottom lip slightly swollen. “Feels like I am, heh…” That laugh was in vain when a shot of pain hit the back of his head. “Oh fuckin’ Christ… My noggin….”

“Your nose is probably broken and you’re complaining about your head?” You laughed, lifting a hand and wiping your cheeks. “Jesus, Billy. That guy just flattened you like a pancake.”

“Did I win?” The brunette asked, shutting his eyes again and trying to recall anything that had happened in the last minute that he was out cold.

“Yes,” You snipped sarcastically, “That’s why I’m sitting here holdin’ you like a lady. You totally won.”

He smiled ditzily at you, your heart pounding at that sight, “I fuckin’ knew I would.”

Bonus ending:

“Here.” You handed him a bag of peas from your freezer with a small smile of sympathy. He held onto it for a second, looking at the details of the bag before looking up at you. His left eye bruised and slightly swollen, bottom lip completely wrecked for the time being, and his nose…. Thankfully not broken, just very…. VERY bruised. “Hold it against here…” Putting your hand on his, you lifted the cold item to press against the side of his nose, causing Billy to hiss out a bit. 

“Aye, watch it.” 

Rolling your eyes, you sat beside him on the couch and mused, “Thank you… For you know… defending my honor and all...” “It was my pleasure.” Billy smiled slightly, looking down at his feet as you held the bag against his face. “Just… Next time, don’t attract a circus freak. I’m a lil’ dude, can only handle guys who are maybe 5’9. Anything above that, you’re on your own.”

“I like that you’re a lil’ dude.”

Billy sighed, his shoulders dropping out of defeat, “Thanks for letting me think I won.”

“Anytime you want...”

#billy joel #billy joel x reader #emmy writes #fanfiction #fanfic #:)