#An Unlamented Death

[readerviews]

"An Unlamented Death" by Mary Adler

Historical Fiction at its Finest #books #bookreview #reading #readerviews

An Unlamented Death Mary AdlerIndependently Published (2023)ISBN: 978-1732009745Reviewed by Terri Stepek for Reader Views (10/2023) It’s Christmas, 1944. Nothing is right with the world. Just ask former homicide detective and current Marine Lieutenant Oliver Wright. He’s facing a probable medical discharge and loss of his leg from a devastating wound. He doesn’t want either one… as if that…

[creeksandsocks]

The door (drabble)

Eddie Munson x Reader, Established Relationship

Tags: Mature 18+, not proofread [550 words].

After the upside down… you and Eddie have to keep your bedroom door open if he'd like to stay in your room.

One month after the events of season 4, everyone's bustling around your house. It’s become the home base after everything. Once Eddie was stable enough to leave the hospital, you campaigned hard for him to sleep in your room. Wayne wasn’t against it, he trusted you two to be smart about his current condition and he knows his nephew, and knows you. You’re newly in love with kids with good heads on your shoulders, and didn't want to deprive his previously chronically single nephew of time with his new girl. 

Hopper, your own father figure, however, was very against it. He didn’t even want to accept that you’re dating Eddie. While Hopper does have a soft spot for Eddie, he didn’t yet trust him enough to be your boyfriend. But, you argued that your bed would be big enough for both of you instead of having his recovery stunted by tossing and turning all night on your lumpy couch, and the trek up the stairs could be good for him, exercise to aid his recovery.

Through your unlamenting campaigning and eddies pain-killer-high mumbles he gave in. But, that wouldn't prevent him from enforcing a strict ‘the door stays 5 inches open at all times' policy, you two were too happy to argue.

You and Eddie have spent the past few days in bliss, a stark contrast from hell being released outside the halls of your bedroom. You giggle yourselves to sleep every night like your at a sleepover and wake up snuggled in eachothers arms and body heat. After his near death, Eddie has a hard time being calm without you in his eyeline, his instinctual urges to ensure your safety cause him to essentially wrap his entire body around yours as you sleep.

Sometimes, when everyone else in the house is asleep, and it's just you two awake in bed you sneak your bedroom door shut and make up (more make out)  for all the lost time you two could have been kissing. He’s still weak, most of his abdominal wounds are still tightly bandaged so he’s can’t climb over you and cage your body in with his as he kisses you, depraved and spitty no matter how much hed like too. Though you've done it enough times that you can count it on one hand, you normally opt to hover over his body, or face each other on your sides, embracing each other and kissing like you’ll never get the chance to again. Things are staying pretty tame between you two no matter how much you'd like to grind your throbbing sexes until the pressure is relieved, he's more than happy to just kiss you, if all he could ever do was look at you he’d be happy.

One time, after you left each other spit covered and covered in hickeys you'd fallen asleep without reopening the door. As Wayne was the earliest riser out of everyone in the house, he was the first to know. Thankfully, he’s on your side so he gently knocks on the door just in case you two are currently up to… unsupervised activities… when he hears no response he gently pries the door open and sticks his head into your bedroom. He's met with a fathers pride when he finds you two wrapped in eachother's arms under the covers. He leaves the door open a crack before he heads downstairs.

[cosmos-daughter]

seek the old blood. let us pray, let us wish to partake in communion. let us partake in communion and feast upon the old blood. our thirst for blood satiates us, soothes our fears. seek the old blood, but beware the frailty of men. their wills are week, minds young. the foul beasts will dangle nectar and lure the meek into the depths. remain wary of the frailty of men. their wills are weak, minds young. were it not for fear, death would go unlamented

[aglaophotis]

Were it not for fear, death would go unlamented.

[prodigum]

rules: if you're tagged, make a new post with links to music and/or lyrics describing the following . . .

( for leliana )

event that defines your character's past:

despite her idealistic perspective when entering the court / game of orlais, she hardens so quickly bc of lady cecilie. raised with a sharp edge and all the grace she was destined to have. "the lawn is dead" her past isn't really so far away but it is.

half return by adrianne lenker

how your character sees themselves:

this folk song sung by tia blake really does it for me tbh. ik it's almost ha ha funny bc a bit of humor in the song. but genuinely deep dive a good spread of what she feels. that she does absolutely foul but pointed things in the name of the maker. and he's sitting there smiling at her anyway. bc she's the left hand - dirt under her fingernails always and in faith.

plastic jesus by tia blake

how others view them:

i do think that by inquisiton era she really is this untouchable bird to the common eye. all of the inquisition really views her as this huge force. strong like the wind, wings like the nightingale. promising something holy. and all the while she's just a woman. weight of her dreams and past so heavy on her shoulders she bears it with some outward force.

rhiannon - fleetwood mac

their closest relationship (platonic or romantic):

her closest relationship is with divine justinia. unless !! romancing the hero of ferelden which ofc verse dependent! but her relationship with the divine is so important. "phony prophets stole the only light i knew and the darkness softly screamed. and holy visions disappeared from my view but the angels come back and laugh in my dreams i wonder what it means" this hits her fucking hard. and this cover my favorite so going w/ that.

crayon angels - robin pecknold (cover)

a major fight scene:

ik this is a scene that only happened in a doomed future scenario BUT - her fight to the death to buy the inquisitor and dorian more time to escape to the past will live in my heart FOREVER. and every word she says then. this song soooo encapsulates that.

"the maker" by daniel lanois

end credit song:

i could sit here and draw eljiah parallels all day but not gonna do that. blood and grief and the sanctity of her own soul all to serve the maker. and that pit that it leads her to. gone way too far in the name of love, regardless of its shape.

drawn to the blood by sufjan stevens

tagged by: @godrotting <3

tagging: @eyehunger , @maidmyth / @unlament , @imaginarianisms , @worthyheir , @loreforged , @lunat1qe , @armoredone , @wcstcros , @stormbcrn , @wornkindness + if you wanna do it say i tagged you !!

[turnandface]

a muse playlist study. list five songs that you associate with your muse & include lyrics if you'd like!

oh no. not me / I never lost control / you're face to face / with the man who sold the world. the man who sold the world.

I'd say, see you next time, if I thought there was a next time / easy conversation, ain't exactly where we're at / it's so strange, deciding, how I feel about you / it ain't like, I ain't used, to going on without you. moonlight on the river.

they want to push you off the path / With their low frequency wiring / but you can do no wrong [...] your speakers are blowing / your ears are wrecking / your hearing damage. hearing damage.

sweetness, sweetness, I was only joking / when I said I'd like to smash every tooth in your head / sweetness, sweetness, I was only joking / when I said by rights you should be bludgeoned in your bed [...] bigmouth strikes again / and I've got no right to take my place to the human race. bigmouth strikes again.

you have forsaken all the love you've taken / sleepin' on a razor, there's nowhere left to fall / your body's aching, every bone is breakin' / you can't seem to shake it, it keeps holding on / your soul is able, death is all you cradle / sleepin' on the nails, there's nowhere else to fall / you have admired, every man desires / everyone is king when there's no one else to pawn [...] there's no peace here / war is never cheap, dear / love will never meet it, it just gets sold for parts / you cannot fight it, all the world denies it / open up your eyelids and let your demons run. beat the devil's tattoo.

stolen from the lovely @unlament tagging: viewers like you! (tag me if you do it)

[death-rebirth-senshi]

"Were it not for fear, death would go unlamented."

[jdtrashman]

FFXIV: A Dream Of Home Part 1

"Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;

Thus unlamented let me die;

Steal from the world, and not a stone

Tell where I lie."

Allie first met Gallien in Gridania. He had run off to die alone in the woods, to give his brothers less dead weight. When hearing about this, Allie ran ahead to find and bring him home. If not to recover, then at least to die among his family. With Meffrid's help, they managed to convince Gallien to come back. Then, Allie processed what she had just done - she had just helped someone. All by herself. A man's life was just a bit better, a bit warmer, because she had passed through it. It felt good.

And then that same man died in front of her. Alone. In a cave. With that infernal poem the last thing he said to her. The words bounced around in her head as she made her way back to Rhalgr's Reach to pay respect to the dead alongside Myste. She barely noticed anything else, so lost was she in her own thoughts.

As always, those thoughts drifted back to home. To Cronera.

The same sensations always reminded her of home: the white, sandy beach between her toes, the sounds of markets in the distance, and the smell of ocean salt. Although recognized as its own nation, Cronera was small enough to pass beneath the notice of neighboring Thavnair, or even faraway Garlemald. And so their island of 30,000 people were allowed to live in the comfort of obscurity.

All of that ended when a Croneran woman made a crass remark at a Garlean Admiral, embarrassing him in public. He responded by forging the evidence needed to sack the entire island. The slaughter took a week. Allie's entire world was burned to the ground in a single week. Though the evidence was proven fraudulent in that time, to stop would mean admitting that the Garlean Empire made a mistake. So while the admiral never lived to see his revenge completed, none other than Livia Sas Junus was sent to finish the job.

Allie still remembered the gleam of her solid white armor in the sun as it shone through the smoke. Like an angel of death, coming to end their little island. She still saw her father, some nights, forcing a smile as Livia's gun pressed to the back of his head. His last words to her...

"Allie...don't be afraid."

Those words were always most effective at pulling her out of her own head. The events that followed them were too painful to recount, even to herself. So as she groped her way out of her painful memories, she found herself standing in Rhalgr's Reach, standing before the shrine to the eponymous god. The idea of praying to a god of destruction for the safe passage of the dead was strange at first. But the more Allie chewed on it in that moment, the more it made a kind of sense.

"What good are prayers to the dead?" Myste asked no one. "They've no ears to listen..."

Allie stared at the boy for a moment. The child appeared out of nowhere with the simple desire to help. Sure, that help involved stealing half of her job stone to fuel his memory-manifest-whatever powers, but Allie had witnessed firsthand the good it could do for people. Just a shame that they hadn't arrived in time to give Gallien the help he needed...

"Perhaps," Allie started. "Perhaps we can hope the gods will hear us...grant them sage passage."

Without looking up, Myste responded, "You don't believe that anymore than I do..."

"What else is there?" On that cheerful note, Allie turned to leave. She needed to be alone.

She needed to think about something.

---

The Cronerans didn't believe in gods the same way that the Eorzeans did. Their religion was more of a guiding philosophy than a solid pantheon. This distinction was why it took so long for the Garleans to "step in". But while Allie ultimately preferred their way of doing things, she couldn't deny the envy she felt at the other way. The certainty their faith brought them. Perhaps it was this lack of certainty that brought her here. To the edge of a cliff.

Allie stared down at the ravine. Yep. This height would be perfect. If she were planning on jumping. Which, she kept trying to tell herself, she wasn't. But times like this made her consider it.

"Why not?" came a voice from deep inside herself. A voice she didn't like to listen to. "Why not jump? What's keeping you here?"

Beloch. Rhea. Q'ihnn.

"Their love will fade," said the voice. "Q'ihnn's friendship will reach its limit, along with his patience."

I...I help people.

"The way you helped Gallien? That worked out great, didn't it? All you have done since you came here is kill people."

I had to.

"Then why do you feel so guilty?"

Then, a new voice. "Shepard...what are you doing?" asked Myste, scant steps behind her.

Her voice quivered along with her lip as she continued staring down at the yawning abyss that promised release. "...thinking."

"Please. Don't." Myste pleaded with her, his voice low and small - as if she were an easily frightened animal, and he didn't want her to pounce.

"I, I won't, kid. Don't worry. I just...I just need to think."

"You brought Gallien certainty. Comfort. You, we, we helped him. You don't need to do this."

Allie sighed. "I am tired, child. And like all who are tired, I...I just want to go home." And there was only one way to do that, wasn't there?

Myste thought for a moment, then looked back up at Allie. "Alright. Alright, Shepard. I will send you home."

This made Allie turn, a mix of anger and tiredness on her face. "Kid, I swear, if you try to make some kinda simulacrum of my dad or something, I'll-" then everything felt significantly heavier. Allie fell gently to the ground, Myste hurrying to pull her limp body back from the edge of the cliff. Her eyes felt like they were tied to weights. It was a herculean effort to keep them open. "What did you do...?" she felt tired. Literally, this time. She fought to stay awake. She was failing.

Myste stroked her hair as he finally eased her head into his small lap, his smile kind, his eyes so sad. "It's okay, Allienea. Just drift away. Take the rest that you have earned. Rest...and dream of home."

Home.

Allie's eyes fell and closed. She then jolted awake and scrambled to her feet. "Myste?!" she shouted. She was gonna wring that little troglodyte's neck when she-

Allie took a sniff of the air. Then she took off her shoes to feel the sand between them. Then, her ears felt the familiar drumming of markets.

"Allie." She whipped her head around and saw him. His voice mighty like a great brass bell, yet gentle like the horse you'd trust with your life. There, standing at the edge of the beach, was her father - Oronea Shepard. "I think it's time to head home."

The tears flowed like a pair of great rivers. And she smiled. "Yes, father, home sounds wonderful."

to be continued...

[libidomechanica]

Untitled # 10335

A limerick sequence

               1

In buoyancy come slight, the chi puo. Thick and would complaces. And no    another’s cot, the family    Miss Edgeworth, ever. Me a below that Adeline his stone?

               2

And flutes, like Spirit to put up—no, no, go not I was on might her that    wad been at our good, whose    a little stays no more loftier studies wither. For true.

               3

Await, according, were so much let thought of birth. A good thing the would    renovate, which their eye a    sudden transport same—is through or Don Alfonso’s hum, was those.

               4

Yet what calls! In France; she men health, westling to you that for thing abroad face    is idleness, ’ I dare    nothing—nothings green a bless grasp them all Spanish crimson so?

               5

Little as mere are not. Settled: there lies every oftentimental e’re    madrigals. Upon her    loss that I forget, the skimm’d twenty year, or crest; or partial?

               6

Because heaven of girl— she totem. Sometimes carpent’s set, and haunter’d, Detain    poet couldn’t stands. On    one: whether times to weak in. Under is Despair rise again.

               7

When though then we have pleasant garden- rose precious say, close me—Me—they death-    cry draws to temple, as    the solar orbit, each other her sense among his Embleme.

               8

Be young wild will besideratum. —But, doubt, the ways, great an unlamented.    Swore like love. Last’s mature    fortress! I wondrous enow. A part from fear and moonlight?

               9

Alas! And like muse of your warden- rose fight O gently we wild, and cock    could be fair, can comes in,    temptation of you, but woman, so longest, none—nay, whose mind.

               10

And she throughly in all, that drooping for one although the night, when frecklesse    by side my rest. Is that    their clown, marrying my Hearts of business shot let once high death?

               11

(I have me mystic caress’d shall say. With which none may say. A woman is    gone? His ran a beat human    put unto people, but whole—streetlight heart bear it, nor day!

               12

Slay me hall longbow frivolous in a strange, or why, or Fates change! They haled    us, to divert    nest’ she same—is mother rounder not. Babes to cheek that the sun.

               13

So the gallow’s eyes. When then though the reserved. ’ Says no ebb to its in the    hill imputes crawl: o    moan even by the had operation; and even he rest.

               14

If this new him! I have seemed, her help think his lady’s gentlest Calmuck    the old bygones of the    doom is fit shalt happy whether tender, and hardly, procul!

               15

You of the must go, but betide, pars peeped and genitors of Fear, and thou    reprove the Frenchments in    a woman, Counter region. On the snug where I now bedbugs?

               16

She table to which brow that point with a sword that lingering in ghosts; the same—    because themselves; since thou    have seemed light? I’m very presentence. To tent despair, who stands.

               17

I thing, feel quite in Hades, in the nippit he take leave borne daye in vain. That    does nothings one mysterics,    down; and drowsily, but in say the should not these my ain.

               18

The specially was as me; know this yet whenever whose frown which man her from    the most of working could    not on claim on the voice and a’! Blind is thy obscurity.

               19

Drawn domed blow, because the like a soul that great die. Thy house with joy; you to    a boxes to-nigh over;    ah yes, as done such are your forefather was light of all.

               20

If but how that the tramped they sang salamandering has number: example—    t was amusemen.    So renew: they knew him! To Russians high, upon the sky.

               21

Fond of Man he hardly black, sword drear, sweet is new one venom which cant, you    that her heart. Of many    a favouring, and began too quaintance I said, stripling drum!

               22

But seeketh not quill and Lassie, O. The wicked down wi’ purfles and    immaculation; but, lo!    The pass for Juan’s very tremulous occasion, or this dead.

               23

He mind us earthquake one night, with sublime, the pock! The settled in any    others should be sent    leans, and stumble post; but none of weak in. A chain of those died.

               24

Shifts to bully at the trippe it was And t will his disease; and what this    new we tramped to woman    that I must in thereby is no sisters with added greue. Love.

               25

Were slewe misplaced? And not the most fears, and drop at human Pity do the    wits, from out; there were to    song of, or ioynts beneath, welcoming to dancing each in mud.

               26

Musick men wealth, and cock could stood with a tide of courselves classie, O. Are    bridegroom, the move, such to    say, and slides upon a low or little last sixty for all.

               27

Six weeks inward praise, a contemples? Huge woman, and bawled the sun, no harmless    thanks again. Many    a little Clod of bones that spurn, he deserves that with snowing.

               28

Had begin less the Cather love. When the look down upon a single milk    as far more regretting    all these maching to them neat little or poem, prology.

               29

Lift up shelter than grows? Of filter’d to gaze of Vivian all danced with    all the peek or was not    ease o’er ages, if the sun, who cross so thee the fled all calls!

               30

And if he hand: cleave though ether, and finds her bosom burning adieu, and    like peace, or ride a Warder    at beautiful. To songs of counted, who watched into thee?

               31

Yon palace, for Adonais! Though they, whose family sort of birthright for the    preconciled nooks, Love    lived in pedigree with juries, or very now should remorse.

               32

But walked and circle smile one trace was a wisp alone. It may Lord was whole    where no not that love, the    rest at Halifax; ’ but ensembleme. And wrough the tyranny.

               33

Of pleaseth ay more comeline, last thou will no mouth or Donna Julia’s    pages. But great immortalice    see denying ayme down at hath is a solitaire?

               34

Let radians but the gallow. Came from year with fears before debt to my stars    would surmise where are Nugae,    quarum part six hour, beacon- tower, you are, which band to keepe.

               35

When the heart, by merely call’d in such a some stream. Make my soul the sound by    gush’d, and chast pall the thousand    power I should not evil fan. The point of two you all!

               36

Is greater in her heart by bride, I do come! A though me a huge women,    gentle to general posses    held in vapour; But just, stirre nothing on them were is home.

               37

It strange—there sent for idle now for the picture, except they came is they    are sides to sleep. Lost Angels    the found they rose! I ’ve only togethere was peace!

               38

And a slight have for our her and golden Day, who step soft Sh! In thy    Greek—the sun of Death, is    furrows cold. Of domestic basin of her is clear’d to glow.

               39

Which, irregulation is during, the twice? The old the scents thy love, I    had then, or Ralph had wrong.    Names erect stood in an ages hers lost proudly may be drest.

               40

From Lady, once, though several Count that I could almost in the though twenty    years. When in the    Memory excel that third flog there, that sixty, it slay this tutch.

               41

Sweet to die? The moon of the world up in his sort of colouring with bland    much happy they stalk, adown    to spell the stranges an image, or our goose: and say, No.

               42

They were she winding should seen absenceless like the twelve conceiv’st, it may    finger the wish, by teeth    our rosaries! For therefore at first regret; o Death each for?

               43

It was some down to enter. ’Tis Despair meant air, the Dambe. Why not opening    in it and world’s widow    and not die her saw they coupled in exile were at Christ!

               44

And let him for what wakes a rivulet; and corn winding sportsman of this    ends open with find is    what this own his Britons have she whose of thought he! Remember.

               45

Or gentle Lawiers, reliefest bid me to a coach, that what life finding,    but a patriots those    at Christmas. Saw this dishonored that I wrothfull coronet.

               46

—Fifteen with a general vow take eyes have leaf where were presentence, he those    who have see denying    so mutter; my book a discords of Rockport. My stocking way.

               47

He should not then, jaded faint, the taper, ’ and do a sinecure—she, to    square. Made of the walked her    chiefly haruest of being aught have the had there was a fit.

               48

In action of they could had skill marketable without music from    collectually Brown, who came    so ne’er the city. No anodyne; give nothing but better.

               49

To the this was a thou been will. A rushing mind, when your bower to tell    her break or blow mortal    of handsome slipslop nor will purged, or he whole when all the bed.

               50

—The mellow you must taken of the present you knowled across to a    coxcomb’s flower should son    again. Await, and then the hot wakes me my verse another.

               51

But at gate has struck one, is much passion. John wassail till in an infancy    complete, and all know    who never having been nothings; he did party to his head!

               52

That doth some obscure; like another. And not go see it up; and headlong    view of your dear, and, and    caught machinery weel aff, because to give a creed to his bright?

               53

Choke to meet again! And sweet to battles, leaving of names true think the bushes,    by my epic poets,    and other, each, by his letched pose,—a dun—whether want.

               54

’ For mere claretless, thou now I must have now—No! Regarding the breath, but    neither could be not my    narrow killing, sweet kiss— attracts by naming. From times she guesse.

               55

But this grew another, surely, from more a prove thee. Found; all, what bed of    episodes both whatever    lives! As we should that some conversation, until I find.

               56

Models fly; o’er what the bosom single one depart: a word, who were red,    and what prove to shown. She    man be set to little tender should make them at Waterloo.

               57

And thus to keep my sleeping fallen, no hide; one of an in the uninspired.    If such subtless    right Phantastic skill’d, and love it, I tell the Heart, eye-water.

               58

Shut up shells the placent. Who in the straws their scaffold in here was of those    rubies tell us. Thus    that it and bliss, and have none some constantial. At lengthenish.

               59

A stars, till my ankle? To dawn grew; nor found me. Not spilt. For the Exchangeable    to have may be    saint though for their title sore at their surpass the sun’s despise.

               60

And only mean a corkscrew one, nor caughter to defensible; and me,    dart. Like a fear on to    wind! No mattered, They knowledge of paying what commoners case.

               61

He mind wish I would like a hill. Fairer to all that, in has blythest at    Vivian-place—but I    am too long despair began to whom shore, but me dulci.

               62

That we know there thy lingers for saving eyes. Sister mate appoints, e’er colour’d    lay show, as the prison-    wall, and cling nails; we rushed with chance went but then already.

               63

Some luck, our men kick as Ovid’s reproachful and station, which was only    liked to say, he callous    hope, they have spoke in eye I’m very gentle rug. Former curls.

               64

Those will learn’d, when hearse. With the said, o Bulbul, as I pick upon the blood!    Shamed of her late; but note,    span to me; for jealous, transport and strength the antipodes.

               65

Born I was light their heard swain such women killed at all the Duke of glory.    Thy out thought are about    disparage such foreigning, fooles in ourself might of brave.

               66

But think, even into his vice, were line, to see, seek’st the leads I said: she    is paralysis, the    left the park, all you now, thy cold. At sixteen you, but Nanie, O.

               67

Of sunshine same, glaunce: two or twenty- five hung thy call’d love such doom wait for    such a stern watch that poems    still the sun, no more them most? Broken his so very dawn.

               68

Away, I touched hilt, and live you pattern wi’ rightly, since toom, and what men    mix some fair week, and    sulkily the TV because among he love. Their eyes.

               69

My Muse dew sat wings of game, Caesar his rival out. I’ll betrays with his    palls—at least, with that floating    and God requent ivory still that are kindest I have died.

               70

Into a foreveries rolled to mine, have choises are nis side-saddle.    An ocean walks we glens    are me back into rhyme, whatsoe’er saint and few faux pas, ’ thought to.

               71

Palpitated: he line hours, the pavilion: the cliff, when thy love tough? Such    women, ’ said to takes the    two poor the corporal—some had connects great barn or nothing Post?

               72

There was Hopes as locust on so, as it’s playes, making, charming, as worth things.    But for naething college    lorn night, selectric shock a liness in me, many yearning.

               73

’En talk one date, unworth, that ripeness. To his garden poets where from    Cadiz. Poor house, since,    exceedingly read when we tires throught the world of Hazeldean.

               74

He stood up your old starved the follye wits, like all higher tender-shower. And    one thinks with me. And    grotesques ill awake up for useful Pussy my example.

               75

That I wrothful as fed, inside before it since defile. When a coming    head; Out of thing our    you wert o’ thee, should be among to pleasant, I—you know it.

               76

By side, which heard this kindling hardly hew and with change within these to watched    Elenor! And bursts by    turnpike raging to their name, glauncing leaves at a’! And story.

               77

I am glad that come; twere was agree; of all weep anew! They see; don    Jose abode what, are    smooth likes pit their eyes over one with flute fancy to say, oh!

               78

And stood name, and that the deep down was the stronger. Serene another’s in    amongst the air that working    out, a noble tore of mud cried, o Bulbul, and feast die?

               79

And Don Alfonso’s hurried at you gave her me. In Kula, driven the    might, that sober sport; a    heavy head, and virtue slurringes, till wed; and lassie, O.

               80

There he happy fretted; its free a words; and look I deem’d chasten to attack?    As we have amorous    a firmed not opens, and make a modern Grecian tired.

               81

He sameness is our Ashes rounding shall take things of the will beneath a    smile. Whose did so hear to    it was painties erected, and every preparate her gates.

               82

Seven know, that heathers comrades up each come: if people grave my sorrowing    by Dame Christian laws;    but a lucid lake, and the missed to mend your labour. His clears.

               83

The has blythe time, and wake no one keep the Miller in their from Cato. Which,    with look’d alone from lean    in his dreaming thy water wanton was three preux Chevalier.

[marxalittle]

Honestly if the nine kinds of contraindicated pain killers and psychoactives and so on my late unlamented grandfather had conned the four doctors none of whom knew about the other three into prescribing him had made him less of a bastard none of us would have cared. It was the screaming at my gran, and anyone else in the house, about hiding his pills from him and trying to kill him, around the lorazepam in his mouth, that bothered us. I recall once that, while self-medicating for the pain and distress he unarguably did feel, he accused my aunt, who has since his death simply lived her life as if he never existed, of trying to kill him by rearranging his suits. She sighed, exasperated, and said "[name], that's not how you kill people." There was no other way to deal with him by then. If any of the drugs had quieted his mind it would have been better, but I suppose the trickster spirit in him that he passed on to all of us got some satisfaction from running loops around his doctors to get the meds at all.

My gran turned one hundred years old this past year. I asked her if there were any illicit drugs she'd never tried because at that age she has been in "allowed to do whatever she wants" territory for decades. Acid, heroin, cigarettes wrapped in bacon, what's it matter?

I ask you! Who cares if someone who's over seventy is taking a lot of meds?! If it helps them or at least gives them occupation, have at it. Flash your id at the hospital pharmacy and say "gimme a shot of morphine and a ketamine inhaler for the road" and off you pop.

I think people over seventy years old should have unrestricted access to prescription painkillers. Not to take home or anything (they might get sold or stolen, although frankly I think pain meds should be less regulated in general and the fact that such a market exists for that is a sign that they're over-restricted in the first place) but like, they should be able to show up at the hospital and flash their ID and be like "morphine please" and have a nurse shoot them up then and there. Yes this is about my stepfather who had every health problem and finally became a tolerable human being after he was put on constant pain management medication but also if you're over 70 you know how your own body works and what pain feels like and frankly if you throw away your life to a painkiller addiction at that age (way less rare than the media would have you think, most "abusers" of painkillers are self-medicating *to manage their pain that they're not being prescribed enough medication for*) then all the more power to you.

[bloodsalted]

@unlament || surprise inbox message! || aww! thank you!

❝ hi, ❞ stance is awkward; a flower folding its petals into itself. fingers play with braided hair, gaze falling from other's eyes to wooden porch below to eyes once more. tone wavering, breaking, she speaks: ❝ i'm really sorry i frightened you in the woods the other night. it was not my intention. ❞ head bows in apology. ❝ i'm really, really sorry. ❞

standing in the doorframe of some crummy motel room just like the one before and the one before that so on and so on.. the hunter braces his forearm against the weathered wood that'd been so lightly knocked on on only moments earlier. didn't expect to see the lady from the woods standing there. supposed to be the pizza guy--but--okay he'll bite. does she understand how lucky she is that he just left without the worst possible outcome for her unfolding? targeted her for a ghost, had every means of dispatching one on him. damn near used em. before he realized she was alive. some kinda wiccan weirdo, maybe? harmless. she had a near death experience without even knowing it.

green eyes dart across hers and he's gotta wonder.. how did she find him? "look. lady. don't gotta be sorry. m'not sure what you were doin' out there. but? walkin' around looking like some kinda ghost in the middle of the night approaching strangers in the woods? s'a good way to wind up on a missing persons report."

[free-luigi-mangione]

Btw, Luigi can still be sued by both UHC and BT’s widow civilly, in addition to his criminal cases. That’s how they got OJ.

i don't think UHC really cares about their late but unlamented CEO all that much, given how y'know, they proceeded to have their scheduled meeting immediately after his death as they were supposed to, with no sign of shock or mourning and then just released a few fluff pieces not to mourn the man they'd lost from their lines but to protect their company's interests from public anger

and about the wife, the same person who taped a statement to her door and never said a word and washed her hands off the matter and had been estranged from her glorified husband for quite some time and their kids stayed with her only?? nah i don't think you're gonna hit a soft enough spot for suing there either

[happilyshadowyfest-blog]

One last look at the late, unlamented Al-Jamals. Abdullah left behind a six year old son who he was raising to be a shahid (martyr) in keeping with the often cited Islamic boast; 'we love death more than you love life'.

[lesewut]

'Works of Sophocles' metric translated and published by Hartung in Leipzig 1853. With a floor plan and an illustration of a Greek theater.

Antigone by Elvin Karda

Between commandment and prohibition The yes and the no a dash Between the nothing, from which man is drawn and the eternity, that devours the self

The moat between the possible and the impossible embedded in historical limitations Knowledge based on a feeling The whole dignity of man lies in his thoughts and actions

Two sisters lament two brothers, who fell in double doom One is given to the birds of prey The other returned to earthly tomb

Numerous is the monstrous, But nothing more monstrous than man Antigone knows not knows to yield in misfortune yet she knows higher than set statute 

Her heart beats warmly for the cold The sister wants to help secretly 'Silence is betrayal', replies Antigone Fear is only a pretence The divine right is proclaimed by the trumpets:

'No king has the right to keep me away from my own!

Choose life and I will choose death Let sacrilege be your ethos and I drive out the wild dogs, wash the son of our mother and cover him with dust!'

'Sister, you are passionate, wild like our father and you have not learnt to bend, how shall we fight against the men? We only have each other, let us share the flood of suffering together!'

But Antigone embodies the No against injustice and the opposite opinion- Striving for the highest commandment in the final phase of self-forgetfulness under divine instruction

Natural law is natural reason the highest law given by nature law based on eternal principles conceived as unchangeable Preceding all kingdoms and the principle for the civilised nation

Injustice not only bends the living sunken into suffering The brother is killed twice if not buried according to law and custom

Unburied and unlamented No bird brings more auspicious reputation Antigone's greatest glory to rest the brother in a coffin!

In black paint the wide sky by silent fearful ones blind to the light And Antigone is accused For her too rigid mind "Be like the tree in the wind, for the strongest steel breaks antagonized!"

Stranger to men and stranger to the shadows, All-roaming and untravelled Not at home with the living nor with the dead Antigone in bridal chamber and in the grave

For love of her brother the symbolic rebellion though alone and tantalised Unwavering in her constancy sacred duty strengthens valour and justice rules as the highest power

And if it is not right, then Thebes' outcast child atones with guilt to confess Correcting faults should be counselled and beware of stubborn obstinacy which seduces to ignorance

The poets say wickedness is easy to see and to dig, while before virtue sweat and tears of blood are set

Glorious it is in death to share the lot with godlike To preserve true freedom and to protect the truth under protection without haggling the prize

Justice is art and unity the most beautiful jewellery The happiness of life in prudence In harsh judgement Presumption is sentenced

Constant learning, even in old age and practicing fine ethics Standing up for moderation With the high laws love enthrones in unition

The righteous may not live long and not without heartache But if listening to the inner constitution The agreement blesses every under-earth bed

Most of the harbingers were misunderstood and denigrated Speaker of a new order Your kingdom is perfect It commands forgiveness and not punishment

[milesbutterball]

A Summer Night (English)

Out on the lawn I lie in bed,

Vega conspicuous overhead

In the windless nights of June,

As congregated leaves complete

Their day's activity; my feet

Point to the rising moon.

Lucky, this point in time and space

Is chosen as my working-place,

Where the sexy airs of summer,

The bathing hours and the bare arms,

The leisured drives through a land of farms

Are good to a newcomer.

Equal with colleagues in a ring

I sit on each calm evening

Enchanted as the flowers

The opening light draws out of hiding

With all its gradual dove-like pleading,

Its logic and its powers:

That later we, though parted then,

May still recall these evenings when

Fear gave his watch no look;

The lion griefs loped from the shade

And on our knees their muzzles laid,

And Death put down his book.

Now north and south and east and west

Those I love lie down to rest;

The moon looks on them all,

The healers and the brilliant talkers,

The eccentrics and the silent walkers,

The dumpy and the tall.

She climbs the European sky,

Churches and power stations lie

Alike among earth's fixtures:

Into the galleries she peers

And blankly as a butcher stares

Upon the marvelous pictures.

To gravity attentive, she

Can notice nothing here, though we

Whom hunger does not move,

From gardens where we feel secure

Look up and with a sigh endure

The tyrannies of love:

And, gentle, do not care to know,

Where Poland draws her eastern bow,

What violence is done,

Nor ask what doubtful act allows

Our freedom in this English house,

Our picnics in the sun.

Soon, soon, through the dykes of our content

The crumpling flood will force a rent

And, taller than a tree,

Hold sudden death before our eyes

Whose river dreams long hid the size

And vigours of the sea.

But when the waters make retreat

And through the black mud first the wheat

In shy green stalks appears,

When stranded monsters gasping lie,

And sounds of riveting terrify

Their whorled unsubtle ears,

May these delights we dread to lose,

This privacy, need no excuse

But to that strength belong,

As through a child's rash happy cries

The drowned parental voices rise

In unlamenting song.

After discharges of alarm

All unpredicted let them calm

The pulse of nervous nations,

Forgive the murderer in the glass,

Tough in their patience to surpass

The tigress her swift motions

[nevelis]

😘 if your muse wants to fuck mine / 😈 if your muse wants rough sex with mine (the-dashing-piratelio)

With obvious amusement, Nevelis smirks. “Huh. Ya th’ one sendin’ me all the raunchy letters?” She asks with a broadening smile, lips quickly splitting into a large and overly confident grin.

“Ya ain’t real subtle, yous’ know?”

@the-dashing-piratelio