#jocund

[msb-lair]

Clutch #3484 - Jocund/Blithe

Mated On: 2024-02-04 # of eggs: 3 Hatched On: 2024-02-09

Progeny:

Hatchling 9267 (Rsyn) - Sandsurge Male, Chocolate Arapaima/Brown Spire/Bronze Soap, Rare - 14,224 on 2024-02-23

Hatchling 9268 - Sandsurge Female, Brown Arapiama/Ginger Arowana/Copper Soap, Uncommon - 15,000 on 2024-02-29

Hatchling 9269 (Jeriah) - Sandsurge XXY Male, Chocolate Arapaima/Chocolate Awowana/Ginger Soap, Common - 15 gems on 2024-02-10

Comments: 

[thisismyanimus]

it seemed that searching three words allows you to find all posts containing those three words

with two words, it seemed that both words have to be in tags, or else it doesn't work. maybe unless the post is popular

but what if i write a really long tag? the maximum limit is 139 characters per tag

i did this experiment in this post

i concluded that if your search contains common words, for example "what write really", it only retrieves certain posts where those words are in the text

for uncommon/nonexisting words in the text of your post such as "brasput yabet mituarb", you can find your post by searching just 1 word

for two words in any of the tags, it retrieves the post, even if the words are common. for example "eat above"

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hello! I have a request. So... seven months ago, I lost the ability to write the way I used to ever since I found warmth when I fell deeply in love.

Instead of tears sprinkling down to form poetry, it’s only petals being carried by a gentle breeze. Why is it harder to write about joy?

How is it that I know numerous words to describe emotional pain but so few to describe this exuberant feeling which is wonderful and almost unbearable (in a good way)? I'm wondering if you could share some words to help describe all kinds of beautiful and positive feeling? Thank you. I love your blog. :)

Hi, thank you for sharing your joy with me. Perhaps there is no need for poetry in the face of happiness, because perhaps happiness demands to be felt. Perhaps happiness is a jealous lover and it demands our undivided attention. In return for your heartwarming message, here are some words related to beautiful, positive feelings that perhaps may help you rediscover poetry:

Afterglow - a pleasant effect or feeling that lingers after something is done, experienced, or achieved

Ardor - an often restless or transitory warmth of feeling

Beatitude - a state of utmost bliss

Blithesome - gay, merry

Cacoëthes - an insatiable desire

Cupidity - strong desire

Delectation - delight, enjoyment

Eudaemonism - a theory that the highest ethical goal is happiness and personal well-being

Eupeptic - cheerful, optimistic

Exuberant - joyously unrestrained and enthusiastic

Exultant - filled with or expressing great joy or triumph

Felicity - the quality or state of being happy

Fervor - intensity of feeling or expression

Frolicsome - full of gaiety; playful, sportive

Gladsome - giving or showing joy; cheerful

Jocund - marked by or suggestive of high spirits and lively mirthfulness

Joie de vivre - keen or buoyant enjoyment of life

Jollity - the quality or state of being jolly; merriment

Lighthearted - cheerfully optimistic and hopeful; easygoing

Manna - a usually sudden and unexpected source of gratification, pleasure, or gain

Mirth - gladness or gaiety as shown by or accompanied with laughter

Pleasance - a feeling of pleasure; delight

Rapture - an expression or manifestation of ecstasy or passion

Ravish - to overcome with emotion (such as joy or delight)

Rollicking - boisterously carefree, joyful, or high-spirited

Roseate - overly optimistic; viewed favorably

Titillating - pleasantly stimulating or exciting

Torrid - ardent, passionate

Vehement - intensely emotional; impassioned, fervid

Zeal - eagerness and ardent interest in pursuit of something

Hope this helps! If it does, do send me a link to your writing, or tag me. I'd love to read your work.

More: On Emotions More: Word Lists

[dabiconcordia]

I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud

I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee; A poet could not be but gay, In such a jocund company! I gazed—and gazed—but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils. by William Wordsworth

[esther-dot]

Pride & Prejudice AUs

You Look Like A Movie, You Sound Like A Song 2k @jonsastan

She had met Jon Targaryen there. It was a complete accident and at first, Sansa thought, a complete misfortune. He was drenched from an impromptu swim in his pond, and she was flustered, not wanting him to think she was vying for his attention. But as she had attempted to make her hurried escape, he had found her and invited her parents to stroll with him around the gardens. He had offered her kindness, and thoughtfulness, he had talked with her parents, discussed the present state of politics with her father and chatted knowledgeably about gardens with her mother.

A Certain Step Toward Falling in Love 2k by @comma-splice

Jon Snow returns North after departing abruptly one year ago.

The Bennet Sisters - a P&P AU comic by @melinaillustrations

P&P Gifset by @sardoniyx, P&P Gifset by @dcbicki, P&P Gifset by deactivated

Persuasion AUs

Who Loves Longest, Who loves Best 1k by @ladysaruka

After refusing him years ago, Sansa sees her cousin once again.

Persuasion edits one, two , three by @glueck

Mansfield Park AUs

Half Agony, Half Hope 10k, incomplete by @noqueenbutthequeeninthenorth

After the death of his disgraced mother, Jon Snow is taken in by his uncle's family, the Starks of Winterfell. He grows up alongside his cousins, including the beautiful and kind-hearted Sansa, but knowing he can never truly be their equal, he fears he has little choice but to leave the place he's come to call home. corresponding moodboard

Catch Me If You Can 34k (P&P and Emma inspired too) by @ben-barnes-is-my-husband

Set in the countryside of Regency England, Jon Snow has been in love with Sansa Stark for as long as he can remember. He wants her as his wife, but Sansa is not sure she wants to be a wife at all, and she knows she doesn’t want to marry the pragmatic and boring Jon. She’d rather help Theon Greyjoy come out of his shell and play matchmaker. But then Jaime Lannister comes to town and Jon finds he has some serious competition for Sansa…

Moments Like This (So Few and Far Between) 3k by @lydiamartenism

Mama and Papa left the house to go pick up Jon, the son of her father’s oldest friend. Three weeks ago, the phone rang and their parent’s announced that Jon would be coming to live with them since his mother passed away and had no one else to take care of him.

Northanger Abbey AUs

The Lady in White 7k by @kissed-by-circe

Dragonstone Manor had looked like it had woken only a few days earlier, after a slumber of several years, if not decades, and Sansa had felt like the heroine of a gothic novel, a mysterious, naive girl with a dark past or a dark secret, arriving at the opening scene of the most dramatic story of all times. Or Sansa as Katherine Morland in a Jane Eyre Setting.

Sense & Sensibility AUs

In Such Jocund Company 2k @maybetwice

It would be no matter at all for Captain Snow to return to the north after seven months’ absence, had Sansa’s heart not changed entirely in that time. A remix of Colonel Brandon and Marianne Dashwood from Sense and Sensibility.

Emma & Clueless AUs

if i loved you less 2k by @ladystarks

Her father has, often and fondly, told Sansa that she and Mr. Snow bite at each other like wolves, but he hardly understood that their verbal sparring was as exhilarating as a sport well done, or a match coming together under Sansa’s skilled hands. corresponding artwork

Sansa: A NOVEL in Five Parts 15k by @imagineagreatadventure

Sansa Stark, handsome, clever, rich, hopes to establish herself as her town's foremost matchmaker. After seeing her governess Miss Shae married to the rich and clever Mr. Tyrion Lannister, she feels as though she deserves that title. Her dear friend and cousin, Jon Targaryen, heartily disagrees and is quite proven right when Sansa sets her sights on marrying off her newest and dearest friend Jeyne Poole to the vicar Mr. Baelish.

A Baldwin and a Betty 2k

Jon drives to the Valley to give Sansa a ride home.

Emma AU art by @dcvahkiin and Clueless art by wolvesofspring

Emma Gifset by @dcbicki

General Regency AUs

No Notion of Loving by Halves 2k @darkmagyk

The Stark cousin, Jon, goes home to discuss matters concerning the entail on Winterfell. In which Jon is a really good guy, and I flagrantly disregard how entails actually work.

Manners and Misunderstandings 114k, WIP by @x-winging-it

The Stark sisters have travelled all the way to London to begin their first season, leaving behind the familiar world of Winterfell Hall and a disappointed Jon Stark- with whom the eldest Miss Stark has been convinced to break off a connection. In London they join family friends the Baratheons and the fashionable young Tyrells in a world of romance and balls. Meanwhile Gendry Waters has been plucked out of the life he knew to become his ailing father's heir, Robb, Theon and later Rickon embark on military careers in the Napoleonic wars, and their aunt Lysa makes a foolish marriage. When tragedy hits the family, they must come together, learning how manners may hide monsters and the best people are often those misunderstood by society.

You Could Draw Me to the Gallows 2k by @azulaahai

After having eloped from home with and subsequently been abandoned by wealthy heir Joffrey Baratheon, Sansa Stark refuses to come home. Having caused a scandal that is sure to prevent her from ever marrying, she is adamant not to bring further shame to the family name by returning to Winterfell. Until, that is, a visitor comes to her - Jon Snow, an old family friend, determined to bring Sansa with him back north. He has a solution to offer her - a proposal with the potential to change both of their lives.

A Perilous Dance Indeed & fiercely, tenderly and eternally 27k by @amymel86

He should either look away or interrupt this improper little meeting, he knows. For some unfathomable reason, he does neither. The two look far too intimate for Jon’s liking, although he feels he should have come to expect it to be so. A romantic like Sansa – however proper she is – would simply adore overt flirtations and a secret tête-à-tête. Even from where he stands, Jon can see the way in which she has stars set in her eyes like precious cut stones. He only hopes the man for whom they shine is deserving of it. *** Cousin Jon is to inherit Winterfell Manor and its estate after the untimely death of his uncle leaves a widow and two daughters. Sansa is expectant of an imminent proposal from her dear beau, Harrold Hardyng and everything will be absolutely, stunningly, utterly fine.

Waiting for Your Slippered Feet 49k by @wintry-ritu

Lady Sansa Stark has always looked forward to her come-out season in London, the balls, the rides in Hyde Park, evenings at Vauxhall, the romance and wonder of it all. Never had she imagined that it would happen like this, with her parents gone and her younger siblings underfoot. Now, all Sansa wants is for it all to be over quickly so she can get back to Winterfell. She needs a kind, amiable man who will be brave enough to take on his wife's siblings. That should not be so hard to find in London, should it? And while she is most grateful for Jon Targaryen's help, why must her cousin be so distracting?

To Make You Love Me 16k incomplete and orphaned

When Ned Stark dies, he leaves behind his wife, two daughters, and his family’s estate at Winterfell. What follows is a series of unwanted marriage proposals, houseguests who far outstay their welcome, and Arya parading around in a comically large hat and an oil-paint mustache as she declares herself the new ‘Lord of Winterfell,’ in an attempt to dissuade her sister’s suitors. However, when Mr. Jon Snow — their distant cousin and Ned’s appointed heir to the estate — comes to call, an oil-paint mustache is hardly enough to deter him from courting Miss Sansa Stark. And she thinks, perhaps, that a man could marry her for love more than her claim, after all.

Mine for a Season 101k by @vivilove-jonsa

Colonel Jon Targaryen is a single man in possession of a good fortune who claims no interest in finding himself a wife. With his war wounds, he thinks no young lady would want him anyway for anything beyond the allure of his pocketbook. Fortunately and unbeknownst to him, Fate has chosen to find a wife for him and will even deliver her right to his doorstep. Taking on the responsibility of shepherding a young lady about for a Season in London is not at all what Jon had wished to do but he had accepted out of a sense of familial duty. However, once he meets Sansa again after only having met her years ago as a child, he may not consider it a duty so much as a torment.

a lady of winterfell 185k, WIP by @wandering-scavenger

She bit her lip and exhaled shakily, “If you are so sickened by the prospect of marrying me, we should be able to obtain an annulment easily enough with your father’s connections.” “I will do no such thing.” he snapped, refusing to look at her. Sansa had never felt more rejected than she did at that moment. Her past experiences of being humiliated at the hand of Joffrey did not feel as painful as this. Even so, she could not allow him to see the weakness in her, not now. “I will not be left out, Jon.” she said, tilting her chin up to look down at him. He grimaced. They were silent for longer than she cared to count, but each second that he did not speak chipped away at her resolve and her ability to withhold her tears. Jon did not want her, and she could not blame him. Who could ever want her? It should not have distressed her as much as it did. She was never his favourite sister, she who treated him as a stranger since she was old enough to understand what a bastard was. A tear slipped down to her face until she tasted the salt of it on her lips. “If we marry, we will remain so.” corresponding gifset

moth's wings 47k by @cellsshapedlikestars

Sansa was determined to convince her aunt to let Arya debut, which is how she finds herself in her current predicament. “Who is this secret gentleman who has asked for your hand?” Aunt Lysa asks, and Sansa knows from her tone that she does not believe. (She has every right not to believe, for it is not true.) And then Sansa does something very, very foolish. She says a name. “The Duke of Dragonstone!” Or, Sansa fakes an engagement so that Arya can debut and marry the man she loves. The only problem? Her fake fiance just so happens to be in the city when he was not supposed to be.

An Understanding 2k, WIP by @thewolvescalledmehome

At the start of Sansa Stark's third London Season, she decides it will be her last. She will secure a husband by the end of the final ball. Jon Snow is new to the London Season and high society. He never expected to inherit money or property from an unknown uncle. When they meet at a ball, Sansa gets an idea.

you're in my blood like holy wine 72k

Sansa finds it difficult to look at Jon’s face, with its weathered lines and cragginess. It is the face of the North and a face that northerners trust; the face of Sansa’s brothers and her father, who had been loved and respected by their tenants as their forefathers had been when they were kings. How can Sansa feel anything but resentment, looking into that face and knowing that all of her years of hard work will never earn her the respect that that profile engenders within seconds? But she does. It is a small, burning coal of something that must be smothered.

PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALES - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON 6 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE - SALTY TEENS - POST CANON

[msb-lair]

Clutch #3325 - Jocund/Blithe

Mated On: 2023-08-28 # of eggs: 3 Hatched On: 2023-09-02

Progeny:

Hatchling 8841 (Kintara) - Sandsurge Female, Tarnish Wrought/Brown Spire/Crimson Spectre, Rare - 125,000 on 2023-09-08

Hatchling 8841 - Sandsurge Female, Tarnish Wrought/Brown Arowana/Driftwood Spectre, Common - 100 gems on 2023-09-09

Hatchling 8842 (Copper) - Sandsurge Female, Ginger Arapaima/Brown Spire/Vermilion Soap, Uncommon - 80 gems on 2023-09-12

Comments: 

[kaiartz]

eeeeee ;u;

Artfight baby! Pepper is such a neat boy ✨

(Pepper belongs to @kaiartz )

[thelarksang]

Clues on Neil Gaiman's Tumblr

Three identical posts of a script preview with one changed word

Crowley's Present-Day Filter

No nightingale

I'm still combing through Neil's Tumblr and I'll add to this if I find any more.

Case 1: Neil posting this message about the script three times; twice with the word "Dailies" and the most recent one with "Sides". Neil claims it was a Tumblr error but it's too fishy to not be intentional.

Case 2: Anytime the screen is slightly darker, it's considered "Crowley's present-day storyline".

For example, Tiffen Bronze Glimmerglass were paired with bookshop scenes; Black Pro-Mist was used for Hell; and Black Diffusion FX for Crowley’s present-day storyline.

Neil mentions there are a lot of secrets in that article and this stood out the most. I'm going to rewatch the series and see which scenes are dark.

The Gabriel memory scene seems to also be a clue which I'll expand on at a later time.

Case 3: There was indeed "No nightingale" but there was a lark

There's a huge emphasis on Crowley saying "It's too late" throughout the series (plus Anges Nutter and her time of execution) and the "No nightingale" line comes from Romeo's speech to Juliet. which is another metaphor for lateness.

It was the lark, the herald of the morn,  No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks  Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:  Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day  Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.  I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

Which seems to mean: 

"No nightingale; the lark was there instead. It is morning and it is too late. I must leave." 

If the lark was there instead of a nightingale, does this point to a wrong timeline? Or maybe that their story doesn't end here and they must continue on?

The lark can be heard when Crowley leaves the bookshop.

Scene:

Lark sound:

Morever I feel like "Night's candles are burnt out" can go hand-in-hand with Job's passage on the matchbox which is "Out of his mouth go burning lamps, and sparks of fire leap out."

Side Thoughts:

Is Crowley the key to all of this? His memories being different from everyone else's, the oddly specific filter for "his present-day" scenes, the fire needed to light the lamps/keep the lamps going, him noticing there is no nightingale singing... (Btw, he is now one step closer to be eligible to ask God questions after fulfilling the ostrich question; not too sure about the peacock part though.)

What if there are actually three timelines if you consider the rule of three in a lot of scenes? Including the three concept art illustrations of the bookshop, the three telephone booths on the promo posters, etc.

[ducklingart]

Romeo: "It was the lark, the herald of the morn, no nightingale. Look, love, what envious streaks do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. Night’s candles are burnt out, and jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. I must be gone and live, or stay and die".

Romeo and Juliet (William Shakespeare) 1595

Illustration of ineffable husbands, the statue of the supreme archangel and the longing for the kiss of 1941.

#goodomens #goodomens2 #ineffablehusbands #aziracrow #aziraphale #Crowley #Divorceineffable ❤️​🐦​

[stvrmaker]

It was the lark, the herald of the morn,

No nightingale. Look, love, what envious streaks

Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east.

Night’s candles are burnt out, and jocund day

Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain-tops.

I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

[x011011x]

ᴀᴘᴇᴛɪᴛᴇ.

NightmareCreature!Jade x Stuck!Reader

CW: Being stuck in a nightmare, blood, gore, physical abuse, Jade is a warning himself 

WC: 1.4k+

Note- This is actually the prologue to my original story but it was in my draft for months so I edited it a bit and posted it for Jade since it fits well enough 

ø. flickering light is not an auspicious symbol. especially not when it makes you lose sight of that man currently behind you who has been following you since yesterday evening.

The already dim light was flickering restlessly in a rhythm that started to annoy you, and cause a bit of a pulsating throb at the core of your head.

A dull pain creeped up to your eyes. It pricked around those glassy eyeballs like the silent footfalls of a black widow till it set at the back of your sockets, tugging at your ophthalmic veins in a way that made you want to get your eyes smashed into your skull, if only to subdue its insistent pain. You fluttered your eyelids shut, trying to block the light out. Trying to relieve yourself of some of the pain it caused.

But they pierced through sharply, as if intending to melt off your eyes. So then, whether you kept your eyes shut or wide open, the effect of the light weighed on you all the same. That pain. That agony. That annoyance. That tug.

"Does the light not bother you?" you creeped your eyes open, looking at the man before you with a bit of an awed expression.

You were sat on a chair and to your opposite, across the long dining table, was a young man. He was stood up, wiping the already pristine surface of the marbled table, the man seemed wholly unaffected by the flickering lights. He stopped for a second to look at you, mismatched hues of citrine and juniper boring into you in a way that made you infinitely uncomfortable. You suddenly started feeling itchy, and in a way you knew that even if you scratched your skin off, it would be of no help.

"You keep repeating this question," he states curiously, voice calm yet quite apparently jocund, almost like a crazed scientist making observations about his newest subject of madness. He continued on explaining to you, "You asked this when I first took you here. You asked this before you had the soup, while you were having soup, after you had the soup, before you fell asleep– You were even mumbling it in your sleep.

"Soup?" you asked, not being able to remember what that man was talking about. For all you cared, you could've been kidnapped. But you knew that wasn't true. Because from the corners of your eyes, not missed by your peripheral by a scarce scope were the inklings of what you could at best describe as floating spirals in the air.

You daren't look their way, something about them oddly haunting. Haunting enough that you realised that you were stuck in the land of dreams, or perhaps delusions, where the comfort provided by objective reality was absent.

The man in front of you put down the ruby rug that he held in his hands, dusting invisible dirt off his hands with a nearly robotic precision. A bodily mannerism, when received along with his cold gaze, that made you feel like staring into the solitary orbs of a high-functioning but yet not sentient cyborg.

The flickering lights that turned on and off made him blend into the vast nothingness beyond the limits of your vision as he was moving closer to you, silently sliding his feet against the rugged floor, stifling his footsteps much like a predator who had set eyes on his prey. It's as if he kept appearing closer and closer to you out of thin air. You could see the faintest hint of a smile creeping to his face as he approached you. Something that seemed like he saw himself as the victor of some game you both were playing.

He sat down on the chair beside you, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back. He looked relaxed, like he knew what was happening. Upon a closer observation, it felt like you knew this man. But you couldn't put a name to the porcelain visage in front of you. Looking at him filled you with anxiety and a sort of sadness, you didn't know why you would associate those feelings with a stranger.

You weren't sure if that was because you were lost in his eyes– that looked back at you in the shape of two previously carved jewels rather than an honest reflection of his thoughts– but it felt like a lot of time had passed before he opened his mouth, choosing to reply to the question you had asked initially, though at his own pace, "It's not bothering me. Like I've said, I'm used to it."

He seemed like he had more to say. You kept your mouth shut, still looking at him. You weren't sure why he was so... enticing, for the lack of a better word. His countenance was hollow, yet he seemed at the centre of what currently existed around you. The centre of this reality within a dream, the dream that never felt like a dream, despite much evidence to prove it as one.

The conflicting stream of thoughts that teetered you in between the world of dream and reality was quickly broken when you felt a sharp sting on your face as your face was forced to snap to sideways by his hands. That's because he slapped you. 'He…'

"Can you not damn hear me?! I keep telling you to eat up!"

You looked back at him and he wasn't looking at you. His whole body was facing away from you, and he was rather busy pouring a glass of what you thought was red wine. He noticed you looking a bit dumbfounded and asked you, concern skimpily hiding his malevolence, "Why are you looking at me that way? Does the food not suit your tastes?"

"You j-just slapped me..." you accused.

"Excuse me?" he furrowed his brows, as if genuinely offended. But it only lasted for a moment, a moment where your life flashed in front of your eyes when you finally thought you had reached your impending doom all too soon from angering him. After that, he was alright again, teasing with a slight melodious sway to his voice, "Oh, you must be so hungry, you can't even think right!"

He handed you the glass and you accepted with shaky hands. For a second you swore you could see eyeballs swimming around in the midst of velvety liquid. And you could also swear that for a second that velvety liquid let off the most metallic, dizzying smell of blood that made your own blood rush to your head.

But just as the light above you flickered again, it returned back to a normal glass of wine. It looked delicious enough for you to want to taste it a bit.

"It won't uh.. make me fall asleep like the soup, right?"

"Why would you assume it is the soup that made you fall asleep?"

"Because…"– 'Because it's fucking apparent,' is what you wanted to yell back, but knowing better you looked at teal-haired man in front of you before nodding, "Just a passing thought."

He folded his arms over his chest, waiting for you to take a bit of your food. You hadn't even noticed it yet, but once your eyes finally met the dish that had appeared in front of you out of thin air, your breath hitched. Bile raised to your throat till you could feel its acidity poking you at the back of your tongue.

In front of you, combined with an oddly common side dish of mashed potatoes, was the heart of a human. Blood oozed out of it as it was still bleeding, filling up the edges of the plate, threatening to spill over. You wanted to protest, you wanted to cuss him out for expecting you to eat this. But the words got stuck in your throat along with saliva and vomit before they could make their way out.

You knew he was moving, but weren't sure how exactly he was. The plate in front of you transfixed you in a repulsive way and you couldn't look away. It was overwhelming, suffocating. What didn't help was that the flickering of the light became more frequent and the sound of his fingers lightly drumming into the hard table started blaring in your ears.

There came a command, static and buzzy. But over all that, final. Inarguable.

"Eat."

You picked up the tasteful cutlery beside the dish to dine on what would be the last meal of this ominous phantasmagoria as the spirals had made their way towards you and started wrapping you in the circular maze of their existence.

You wouldn't have thought those spirals could move.

Be sure to share to interact if you liked the story. Leave a comment maybe, if you'd be so kind. Till then, next time ♡

x011011x @ all rights reserved.

[gerrydefault]

THE joy, delight, great pleasure, joyfulness, jubilation triumph, exultation, rejoicing, happiness, gladness, glee, exhilaration, ebullience exuberance, elation, euphoria, bliss, ecstasy transports of delight,rapture, radiance, enjoyment, gratification, felicity, cloud nine, seventh heaven, joie de vivre, delectation, joyousness, jouissance, ravishment, jocundity, pleasure, source of pleasure, treat, thrill , buzz.

[dabiconcordia]

Daffodils

I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Outdid the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed-and gazed-but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils. by William Wordsworth