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libidomechanica · 2 years ago

Text

The army-surgeons made to side

A sonnet sequence

So please along a race and yet hast but little canst not thy hapless false women thus: in Stella, when he devoured men a scourge I will cry to where it bitter is coming Soldiery behind a broad- blown comeliness. One stalks the cup. There is sometimes to haue found, and made one—turn down to my loue, where we are owed for want of matter what once be done! Disagreeable an antelope a Paphian pair of certain zest to use all faith, hope, love, nor white, across the sky, the rosy banquet love, and coldly mark the hot day, or hot desire, and I will heaven’s name.

Gay, in such a night-market on display, they fled,—the former cruell ciuill warriors therein appeal unto some small for being caught inkling over the powrefull countenance dew. Suspicion quest to rest: low lies themselues suffize, in which grow more than these storme beaten long slow for the parts entyre, on which I would pull and wide sits mute and prospers; and that he did intwine, yet dewed with from the claver hay, they fled,—the forehead, and white linen hence, and I, in my haruest wast, my hope away in town; for, without a stain. Now as they who was surprising you by how fully know thee fall from this poem will be, whole neighborhood whom we call The Sky, I heard a Voice with penance like one afrayd, yet with Her I lost might have said, Incense from me a sleepe so favoured his passe Physitions art. For Jewel, he tore his return. But thou payèd were. I have to destroy’d.

And twixt earnest glance at them fall to head. And bids him clayme with brasswork prinked, each humbled off with true sight, where the moon shall together present lot, as I grant you to seeke her heart, into the Heart. And that spot of joy. Smilingly exclaim’d Gulbeyaz, though some passions doe awake, and when cloudy looks and free, the Graces are my Last Love. Hope and make her back a huge house same as you’d have said, and comming, marrying, marrying, made him quail, or his own scythe, does the more free from fame’s black booke enrold, should add fresh younglings she bought and long enough; here you must go, to sing those sheet, at rest one, I only constantine. And the Seed of alle thine age should condemn all such a face of many a sturdy stoures. In a night, so when I waile she doth inuite some pitty, but few behold that in her faire of blisse, the rosy banquet loves you best, or choked be with fish.

So is fayrest ymages of lackeys usher to our deep, dear silence and Oblivion is my souereigne Queene most thy heart-stifled, in her so goodly light lift vp theyr reuengefull yre did say, i’ll love, and all night above—devoid of Gold! Take things at times—to ope this rhyme; no scandals made him comb his heat the end of its insides grow. Where passion so; had, having lost their king, his trompet shrill hath thrise happy and pain, and hamstringent quality; thy teares they had been a snake: the eager matron who hast leave my idle days? For her eyes are dancing in Senses balance was grave. Warmth-given, fire-driven kindling coop’t we live; if not, die so I may pass the hour with some grand reason is it they golden orb of person, number. Such like clouds and listen’d domestic cares—no process prove, but when they jogg’d each time strips our illusion of his gray hairs—Alas me!

Meaning wings put cross-wise on sometimes think it is, how you are little space. And He that vernal breast. Softly, in the moss, and talking sit listening, and dragged hand did lay, sweet season: I have not back from the burro, too rejoice to knit the turrets of the sky is still with iuncats, fit to bits— and they fix’d the cause to please all because her fill. Do more your patience bid me love, or season gave, and, in betwixt the lands, and wears The Crownéd Head under which a purple of the wheels.—And Wilderness—and Wilderness, full of all thy Piety nor Wit shall be able to set it glowing?

Mark when so sad, I shall not run away, my love should find, but that’s haunting birds sing. Seeing the River’s Lip on which thou from thy linger, and this fair hues, nor knows whereof each somewhat may her there enthrals the sun is warm, and passion for people are having, and in posterity, is that blow by night have suppose Gulbeyaz heaved, I see you’ve forgot: let Rustum lay about me shatter’d into Clay: and sure, as if they sell. And the weathers false women’s pleasant mew, that they knew the rose i’ th’ funeral fire. My gift of a grone, thus much by separate self, in the ghost away.

And merely forme into her gaue, the days. Base things,&sdeigne sometimes refigured to kiss and then she smiling because to save I would open field: is prison you look a little ear’s a lilly on ground, and digits, a voice against a glance up in sacks—a mode of navigation a good will, to sing so you ran and fashion’d all the pleasures be, shewes but she should admit. But vaine to be before: now out alasse he cryde and weep, and one of your might, where to appease her, say I have you for that burns the daffodils; beside the gems of Heaven, not mix’d their rough a farther!

When he by chanced as down she knew him we were torn away: yet the Súfi flout; of my selfe could brooke: but al my wooing, in watching and clouds, were driven kindling breath thy lingering dart, giuen hath: that so is fayre sight, dear heart as sound Sweetness to the discover your branches play. Such stuff was courtesy, she that running madrigals. Or I will keep them shake upon the terrace, under gore, herkne to me aread: with looks and feather vew, chaunge of goodly part from solitude again; love sells the sun itself and were about him—oh my Camel! Along things down, that to do with thine?

Mark when shall take Jamshýd and Kaikobád and Kaikobád away. As we once am I in this arms into the bared bough, the small hips. And sin no more endear’d, many a squadron flies: it is the bands can themselves are slight to hang over the powre of loue we weightless message set in Salámán, whom all things entire, would learn. Last Love, I hear the smiles with heedlesse pleasure guide, which to the stair, and dispute? A Vessels one by one that Firmán-issuing Shah to whom thousand health the sign she was dosing each other, and the think’st well to trust, enjoy’d no sooner presents less?

Within the realms of fairy, which form another then myne eyes so filled with that were a tale grow burnt as a mothers by traditional South. Did them onward, first inadvertent brush her mouth in waves, your name and beauty; and speak with Thee Annihilation— lost, or in Eternal beau. In almost-stale croissants clenched in never much to know, by this: in piercing phrase was half sears, like meteors and for her decay, and thou with oriental scruples hence, like a great shame broke promise! Yet dewed with her owne goodwill hir fyrmely tyde. When Night till Day! Descend, or say with payne.

And yon garden grewe, bene withereth too. She danc’d to the silent be; and took amiss. But I am to be thou dost wound: full maiesty, for one; ten time. Thou art, Thou art fair—not the Knot of Human Death and save, should come young Porphyro! May live in schoole of Patience; if thou reviewest now is come, the bounds convey what dying liue, and all the custom still on her stubborne will I believe not back from the skie: and blest wi’ contentment here. But his ear and sent for yúsuf—she began to show by the ocean floods, the two could reach a quarters, to bitter sauces did fly.

Yet in a Trice life’s strength’s abundance find by her high to pluck my heart, which oft doth yielded scutcheon blush seep through your sighing did appeares, when so bad end for a woman in his morning is, whatsoe’er thy peruse. As to announce all amorously I care for a moment of pale yellow vapours choke the glitter, magnificent large eyes levell’d oppose the face of a young Gouda such a yoke a fable, song, nor ever wilt thou wilt not with troubled the object flash’d from thine, and distinguish quite enough it is thy vertue as thy blacke, both bare and there is no noisier.

—For her eye. If I speake her beauty scarce three times happier people lotted, at which was wont tenrage the rest, but the end of her, resting on like arrow we cannon- ball took off, dear heart let me heat, the shade: she sign she was summ’d in YES, and nought or rare: and grasshopper its last prayer with the one to looke. Know that Life flies; one things, prayer may never can spel, will show itself I seemed as this truth, truth descry the beldame star doth make her prayse, most goodly bosom, is Jenny, fair strange termes to his side, who but for on earth grow: and the sign’d to Juan, mutter’d House for a frog.

And heart’s Desire of Heaven; and tingle, sunning waves in a closed well in amber, silken flanks with a twist it is perfect with furniture an exquisite apartment form, dost thou which droop not: Fortune frowns on me, if you’re for one, send very far! How after shall be. And all which they might probable! Of all thy wished to make her national South. And be once more I looked upon your skill so cunning, and injury of age were thing so much to be bought, from the other; though shyness in the skies which, shining scales, the delight that’s for they as soon as, Julia, that with salue of souerayne beauty of their habitation spend, and rules the rose, the charge or in the chambers had she now coupled be: vnited pow’rs make each others by a love that be now posting on that fayrest she, when perverted, does the Cuckow, messenger of that further beauty, flatter his peace and pine.

Who now it not the fan be fynd, and the hands embrew. For lay-men, are all morals melancholy neck a rope he did bar. His root is ill. The glorious spoile, rose, and pity Sultán scarcely tell to force again! My heart had brooded, all akin and back the year that dies along, face to stay with pompous roialty. They cannot take me fret? Happy ye leaue like a child sitting all along her Queene. Thou, thyself on intellectual Light is only will be the truth; beareth there is like you. I have left to dreamingly. Make witness, here, between, above, and I think, he said.

For never could risk or compounds were mine forever, because there. Discipline, that his age are, of love the life of that I love that crowned—a table, table-cloth and favourable scarce to preside at court, and eke his little plum is what avails to me-to thee. Me, if the most proper course of yon river, whiles her mind,—she’llturn, perhaps—on that ruby which or what is lost i’ th’ funeral fire. Evening at the swan, and the right guid will, so goodly wonne with but small: little priefe: in white, and shawl, whose Candle is the fingers no lips e’er left their feet your reputation.

Alone that love and long ago. Thus is my sommers pryde: and strange similes enrich each landscape to mi, say she peered from a game. Him, too, for all was found a beam, and keepes her frowning thee living world, vsed Trophees to erect in star-showers of saffron, dagger rich attire creeps the ever longest last where Truth itself, if judged with the same loose our place: I cried upon his braunches of knot-grass, till a flute’s speech to make me rue it. Tale of Love— and taking like his hopes of having sex in shop window that he that where? Shooting fynd, I seeke some stress be, for all alone.

If I, indeed is gone dry: but, if your great lustre through your faces—an earth was ill repayde, then only a yard beneath that times this paradise to pray? That burns with gazing on the birds, the last where Destiny with your bosome bright the Sun himself was scarce more she crawled through a door was brought you heard a Voice with no love I did lere. Far grass by night; for being as of old Parnassus flowes, and ever wanted, like Esau, for my friend, I though thou hast thou, thou hast long languour of my tree that from his louely Spring bid me to mi, say she fall from whence, and spher e d course of your golden hookes, that was all men’s feeling thee low. Fold now be butcher’d in each side, seem to hate, I do, yet dare nothingness express on charms, away with your life in these curious, threw a lace of silk and meal, robert Burns: leeze me on my heauenly fyre, her fell, in Ettrick’s short.

Scoop after a To-morrow’d all that boldned innocence and I rise hearing their lives, and strong or fayre be ye sure, but to lingering lookes that was on Friday last— this vile garb, the distaff, web, and why not so much; if only I could execrations. Of souerayne beauties prise, at which drew all alone, thus mellow’d hour with a hinge. Why have let other lands I could not see you can heart, is of nought but glory gate, most glorious name in golden pomp of Ottoman parade. And march away—’t were to weep for this is love, or Wrath consumed Absál long’d to gather the small forgoe.

One day as I vnwarily oped her hollow she’s mine. Upon the curtains peep’d, where last with forest wyde, with worse for thee, and stricken, churches have laid down the wight most at his world his golden fleece I shear of a surf-torment neuer pype of rest, but al my day. There in their busy days. That all thy mother’s Arms—all see Others I see them by these Eyes now dark with Age— how shall liue by giuing life that with love. The stubborne hart robbing wax fruit, flowers and for thy delight of cold it falls on me, shall have I know not who is not of us, as I grant that she thanks one minute.

Ne ought was eight of a moth. Mate, seemd to see me. And Maud is sweetest Silvia, let’s get some side display, mirth or sang can please to mone. Yet none your charms, which wander in, thou my pretty opera-scene. And yet the future/current glide, and pressing, and in my House stringing sweet, Alas! Always too eager matron who has play’d you have saved? That spatter her Feet. Face doth inspiring in gentle shepherds in the bed. Past there is on, with sweet heaven: Porphyro; nay! On lofty countenance seemed—and the gentlemen seem I and your skin, those the gift of promises to match in May.

For soone after soft sex and agony’s forgot, and if that is—the Lady there, that is, was well—and then but she mocks, and now hath taken, and sayd to her cool, white robes, heaven known munificence is ample was a raw day of day; rage, rage against her back a huge and Despaire hands the leagues of past Regrets and tymely fade. Then let come and in perceive myself will strew of either Here nor purposing each morn and ached for one man makes me pore. ’ Had been a snake: the earth and air to insulate the last wife of care made a garland was such things it because thoughts to discover, yet long, in defiaunce of all that brought, or fresh repose; feare and plighted too many heart, glimmers rich, a quiet pain for unremember that will forgoe. Next, Virgil I’ll call me ungentle, unfair, I long’d to gather’d than aught I see the vnwary sheepe, adieu my deare delightingale.

Did I hear the voices which her milky way. The glitter, magnificence is now as weak as even as this poem will be the best feelings changed me already make, delightes, the which he obey’d indolence benumb’d my eyes throng: with gaze too bold aspire? Nor merth, nor mix’d the lingering frame my feeding and, sick of welfare, found strange saloon, much fitted for with air sedate and pale his friend of mist floats on it as those engins can tye: but speake her quiver on such a matter what is this my soul may correspond; I won’t look behind you me another’s Bosom fall asleep.

Now twelve isles and death do, if these kissing a little though in the swan, and where, scalpel, and learnd chaste moment, of this unwelcome shock: his airy harp shall I say? When art is a kitten of blood was brought, the dales of vnualewd price: by slaying him for that of late your leave to any shoe, unless man were a public good, to the Dusk an Angel brings melts, should but pursues! The last, my Silvia, wed and it embaulmed wel without one peece for my greatest Prince with a world chosen that morning o’er them all of it. Felon by a jailor, fee by a counsel, felon by a door was wet within my though so sweet contentment can the great lustre, then silent on this both pure and rook- delight! That he though not the hill, then, these tears, of fire, of hope away in termes vnsure, the wheels go over me, the very eyes might teaches—Heaven should bee, at the waves, yours shall be well.

Before Life’s ironies irritable to innocent play, and overwhelms us all: wrecked devotion gives to make me Christian fair cheapening at my father, thanking hers in contact; and our glasse: such beames display, there he sleepe, and yet am forsaken our babes, poor flowers and a drag-chain. How little backward test, as Juan found, I will strew blendeth its odour did thick about her owne ioyous time to dote upon the past. Hardly leave my bodies into whiffs of cloudless climes, to give and so the least trembled and lavender’d how soon she shifts and features are skycolor.

My anguishing loved but you of no sex at all; and woes. Who scorne base things to look up but I loved a soldier once come there in the moments to go with the grass, yet still vouchsafe O goddesse to make a peach. How sweet the gifts than those honour, loue, when that’s best your rayes!—But very poor hear two memoirs upon’t, believeth all these kissings on a map, but those on board, who row’d off, leaving hawthorn white, and seen your bed as you are a tulip seen to-day, the soothed limbs, and you are the bowre of your masters met, since from my coldness yourself, but the lady’s foot; which my selfe, or else Fire!

By oft predict that bondage earst dyd fly. A rope he did not with a Laugh would not standeth on a Gem, his earthwards journey to sorrowes the rapid tide shall after fresh from our shoes upon you do deceived thing, sweet, yet w’are not; the left their scorners be, or not all this generally used for your love he should you euer. He shouts, the way she always. Down the gloam with golden hayre, the lustrous sum. ’St by hovering sigh Gulbeyaz, as you free from my reach that then? But since mute, I must, fair maid, ere long, as if banishing delight wind, which in this one of ladies us. With his arm-chair?

At night; for mutes are fond forget their layes. Myself in the houses of yre, the delight. And me reuiued with care: attempt to work as he always should be forgot how they might saue or spill. And you it’s me i want you for this. Against them this day the linger in the full delight euen those shoes, and pleasauns to head. The other, who never be applyde. On golden age, whose beames darknesse mixt with a tighter timber toes your love, all my hoped that, as from the cold out a soul to break. And that ye may deem. Thou stil, and a parching to the distress, or softly call, came steal thine sake longing.

” I saw the feet of all the porch of Death! A good deal practice may make Loue conquest, peerelesse hare, nor dare complaint. And in mind to vtter forth looks compile giuen hath: that no pace else forged lyes, which here awake, my Little thine eyes, how you rise? And euery purling speeches well beguyle. Disdains the woodman winding with me he fought, and lads that where? With the sense my deathes wound? Soon, trembling Pricket, or hunt the finest wool, which had the ioyous time to groan for through, the billow’s roar, he still true Lovers Each of both. How cross, how long with gold gloried and silver is white rosebud with a hinge.

You are not approch, that I write her name; his way, do not go gentleman to shonne: from whom such as I to seem to paint the scene more sure but wast and in her as th’ authority to tell, among the gate so splendid was thy blacken’d, Man’s Forgiven; perfect noon, in all its Rose, and let him as her face. Of all its ancient rite; and, after Rage destroy; and you; so let the them if To-day prepared, yet lost ere you already spent: for all the one whose haruest hastened all excellent, him bond that I of doubts, thou hast thy heart, how such a kind of dwell in prae-digestion?

With those that it for heaven find: but the smilingly exclaim’d: this sorrow dimmed and later life that glow, far, far beyond the Caravanserai whose Helmsman on an ocean warring gainst the Past, but by time. She laugheth in his dark: quick and reel; frae tap to tae that we wanted to Juan stand against your face; terror the past. Highness was an hour and built a house same pottery, threat he muttering galleries and to shepheards swayne, what he feels, unless he’s drunk, and the Rest is dress, young fawne that in her bosome bright ray, when thoughts lay nor fame, nor that brought me, my spring which her face.

While thus we sit together, whose streight reade the charm if any take my restlesse worke is wrought, oft in my books and riseth from you, that wants to give and lyfe. The sleeping drawn for spite, that amazing fed; and fashion me with thy Remembrance strong as Death, retrieves me sick, which never much too fair to be diuine and bracelets too, and digits, a voice to watch the Lost Soul to its Intelligence, was from thou shalt remaine. Love their Priest, ere we slumbered flock, that now unpunished is. When I pull it on its earnest glance doth spy desire on earth as lothsome and had to say Forgive me.

Who give him still. Eunuch, having, and they be more my toung would not stoop and ask thus. Of strawberries, diaper’d without much the which Inde or Affrick hold. Still tell the Prophet in Derision, some by experience, others by a law divine high-piping sorry for both odde and good: I found fresh repair if now that the queen came. The spirit doth look, and Titan on the daily press on us and a few specially at night long I sponne,&with a joint overturning Porphyro grew faint: she knew she’d surely, some bought, where their own innocence, and yet I am a man of so young?

We walked with carven imag��ries lest that the Close of Ramazán, ere they had been nurst, slippers for thee will only amend their own: for each, find slaking, and age, and when I speak, and dropt the SATs, don’t have let others in the fire, of love he should save. How deep below existence was much of the raging sea! Eyes, adding, the warm blood, which wanton wings did learn, and fragrance afternoon hours shall wish, betide, the Winter dreerie death comes by the dust and while I call those that thy lov’d friends have forgotten, and tears of his dying of the devil, when two mouths never when she, whose presents less?

—Within their success therein appeals,—although on more tenderness, full of this hell. All to earth crumbles away their thought, on those hope of corn such cordialls seeke the afternoon instead, women who canst not thou presumed, she utter’d Houses—and, Behold! As we ought to medicine a health the Soul she fill’d, and only thee; nor fear of staining of season my scorn with many a moon the glen sae bushy, O, aboon the Sisters hast no less monstrous salvers in verse; but then make, sought not behave itself with Yesterday! She would opposite, o thinges of ryper reason selfe and goods.

You know how chang’d than crown’d. She had beneath my day, while Thou art made, t’ appease, my pining languish hangs on the Galaxie, then silence and spawns his quarto, and die, heart-shap’d and another entertayne, and feel a certain with palace! Died palsy-stricken, church of mud and softly from the time nor many a squadron flies: it seemed,-than till then I cry she chops the great enough it grieved him, in clothes: a woman but a weedye crop of raine once loveliest where? Kneeling would break from this day, but no less monstrous sum. Or some drowsy Morphean amulet! Nor can beholding a boat and gaze at them fray: agayne my forte, but as he satte besides, at least, is gain’d; for inspire in making a party for ever. On my face doth make my restlesse bloud defylde, th’ importune plain sae rashy, O! The blacks seem’d to be, die single good, nor could love be lou’d Tyrans, iust in action.

His mother’s Bosom with the flaw-blown rose, were never blows did make the which had him called The Witch. My paine hath bound: but Juan some stress had cut him there nor to the end where no sin unbolts the world besides all the Bird of those two according the flames to be cured: but thou know, besides his terrible Self-solitude retire; and one by one crept silent be unreturn’d, but not enough in such aureate Earth witless words where; but I am in hire bountee telle can; hire swire is white veil; a red ball wrapt in drifts white arms and pittilesse, at all things in long stormes, or a travelled me.

A thousand aves told, for I am slow and thou with orient day, is flash’d from God you have come then, you makest thus far our chastity. Thou ask’st if I burst in the very word I understand in the sun hotter than is yon moon which, shining sweet with thee. And on that runneth often her faults with chast affection of my hand grains of my life in them I hear her bed, but better hyue to ground, that night your body go, what’s that loves to me for compassing, Baba, who for To-day prepare, ye bearing to learn: and with men, than lessen it by those old neutral personal.

Out of dust was dead: so as I grant that I shall return of the plain and my passions reign—back to cast it in thee this day, to hint their pray. How slow time, and that shall lure it be consume not back from the last, though my obedience. Lent it by thee, each did tipple wine from cedar-plank or weed: and sure, but then from thy lofty walls gave it with violets should creatures falsely what is truth—to prove more of Thee. Is Jenny, fair moon, and they live in schoolmaster natures; and if these not one sweare he cannot aid me, my chaste flesh and blood can show for you, my fair names who didst make a peach.

Hid from rain, its abacus and dispute? Thy dearest, of so short. In Tempe or the shopping; just two minutes tell, pointed to better, and that is Zuhrah? Till by Feringhi Glasses turn’d half command of angels, far apartment, while the flower, glistering stays. In fancy her sacred brook back, and who had still cavern deep, while she turns a stream, across the steps of Age, trod down by river or season gave, and, the left enough for a lover, horse by a conniving smile the way one back of succour both the torch’s flames of love, if love, be of their gazing on like a short naps.

Could suggest the deepe through the Nightingale, and kneeling and with care: which I found me roots together my little think’st well to trust, enjoy’d, perfect beauty’s pride dishes back to your so happy as a child a few hours abed and love with golden heares, or look with Age—how shall cease to moan and who had mighties iewell, the lake, beneath the view—but hauing it doe set but him the Seed: yea, the fields with the one who remain, in midst of earliest birds: pleasance, which you would not see’t? With rod and mightier breath the sallow sands, and then remedies the Eglantine: so does this yeare ensuing, or Horace been embroider’d with that dies alone; meantime they waste, seek with rare delighting a little unknown; all the most tolerable of perplexity; the open casement press’d each big approaching giaour, while still can my flames o’er his journeys he sets up his burthens binde.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #206 texts #sonnet sequence

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alatismeni-theitsa · 1 year ago

Note

@babyrdie You are right! I went and looked at this part. And it's not just that. In this scene, Achilles and Patroklos are soldiers sleeping under the same tent with Phoenix, while having right next to them their slave women. Achilles and Patroklos are opposite of each other and have women on their side. In the original text there are no words for them sharing a bed/bedding/mattress or something similar.

I'll leave here the ancient Greek text, the modern Greek text, and the English text.

Ancient Greek

Πάτροκλος δ᾽ ἑτάροισιν ἰδὲ δμωῇσι κέλευσε Φοίνικι στορέσαι πυκινὸν λέχος ὅττι τάχιστα. αἳ δ᾽ ἐπιπειθόμεναι στόρεσαν λέχος ὡς ἐκέλευσε κώεά τε ῥῆγός τε λίνοιό τε λεπτὸν ἄωτον. ἔνθ᾽ ὃ γέρων κατέλεκτο καὶ ἠῶ δῖαν ἔμιμνεν. αὐτὰρ Ἀχιλλεὺς εὗδε μυχῷ κλισίης εὐπήκτου· τῷ δ᾽ ἄρα παρκατέλεκτο γυνή, τὴν Λεσβόθεν ἦγε, Φόρβαντος θυγάτηρ Διομήδη καλλιπάρῃος. Πάτροκλος δ᾽ ἑτέρωθεν ἐλέξατο· πὰρ δ᾽ ἄρα καὶ τῷ Ἶφις ἐΰζωνος, τήν οἱ πόρε δῖος Ἀχιλλεὺς Σκῦρον ἑλὼν αἰπεῖαν Ἐνυῆος πτολίεθρον.

Modern Greek (source)

Και τότε ο Πάτροκλος στις σκλάβες παραγγέλνει και στους συντρόφους, για το Φοίνικα παχιά να στρώσουν κλίνη. Με βιάση, υπάκουες, ως τις πρόσταξε, πήραν αυτές και στρώναν προβιές, κουβέρτες και ψιλόφ��ντα σεντόνια στο κλινάρι. Κει πάνω επλάγιασεν ο γέροντας, η άγια ως να φέξει μέρα. Όμοια ο Αχιλλέας στο βάθος έγειρε του στέριου καλυβιού του, και δίπλα του μια σκλάβα επλάγιασε, που κούρσεψε απ᾿ τη Λέσβο, η Διομήδη η ροδομάγουλη, του Φόρβα η θυγατέρα. Αντίκρυ επλάγιασε κι ο Πάτροκλος, και στο πλευρό του επήρε την ομορφόζωνη Ίφη, χάρισμα του αρχοντικού Αχιλλέα, το κάστρο του Ενυέα σαν κούρσεψε, την πετρωτή τη Σκύρο.

English (source + my translation cause 1-2 things like "and" and "but" were off, plus phrasing could have been shorter and more accurate. It might not be extremely perfect but it's pretty clear where their positions are)

And then Patroklos ordered the maid-servants and his men to ready a comfortable bed for Phoenix. Hastily, obediently, as he ordered them, they took them and laid down sheepskins, a rug, and a fine linen sheet on the bed. Up there, the old man laid, till divine Dawn broke. Likewise, Achilles slept in the inner room of his sturdy tent, and beside him lay a slave girl, who he'd taken from Lesbos, Phorbas' daughter rosy-cheeked Diomede. Patroklos lay on the other side ("δ᾽ ἑτέρωθεν"), having on his side fair-waisted Iphis, a gift to him from radiant/noble Achilles from when he took Enias' castle in rocky Skyros.

Also the meaning of the adverb ετέρωθεν has not changed in Greek so far. It's been consistent in medieval and modern literature as well. Έτερο (opposite) + -θεν (to show distant location) , it means "on the opposite side".

(source)

Today in Greek we see its use in "εκατέρωθεν". One of the uses is in Geometry, to show that something exists opposite from something else.

Now, of course, Achilles and Patroklos could have been sleeping "on the other side" from each other and still be a bit close. But the text does not say that they were particularly close. (Note again the affix -θεν which shows distance and we still use it in the same way).

The way it's written, each one took a side in the depths of the tent and laid down each with his female slaves. Not very gay if you ask me 😂

Emily Wilson's Iliad has Achilles and Patroclus sharing a bed and I saw so many people praise her over it and going against the translators who just had them share a tent so I guess I'm wondering if it's mentioned in the original Greek text, too and it's just something other translations miswrote

Honestly I don't remember them sharing a bed in the Iliad. It's been some time since I read the text but I can also feel that this is the first time that I've heard these two sharing a bed. Can you tell me the rhapsody and lyric so I can look it up in the Greek text?

#achilles and patroclus #achilles #the iliad #answered #ancient greek #classics #Emily Wilson

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hornime · 4 years ago

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saeko, an angel

you’ll let yourself believe a vain and untrue fairytale that humans can fly among the angels if it means that you can be in her presence for a moment longer.

warnings: gay lol

w/c: 2k

a/n: i’m so in love with her. also this is sfw which goes to show how much i am in love with her.

you crack your eyes open, a bright white light blinding you and forcing you to close them again, the burn settling into your pupils. you wait a minute, letting the red behind your closed eyelids warm to a fiery orange, before trying again, squinting as you let your eyes slowly adjust to the morning sun. and then you see her, through the blurry haze of dawn.

an angel.

you silently blink early tears away, too afraid of moving or making a noise and scaring the divine being away. as bubbles of light start sharpening into crisp clarity, you realize where you are: a hotel bed, with clean white curtains and walls framing a heavenly scene. and you realize what you’re seeing: saeko. so yeah, close enough, you think. an angel.

you remain immobile: your hands are tucked under the pillow and quickly going numb at the uncomfortable position, and the kink in your neck is demanding more and more of your attention as your nerves realize that you’re awake, naturally refusing to give you a mere minute of painlessness. but the aches in your joints and throbbing behind your eyes become secondary as you become transfixed on her, her. her, silently sitting on the edge of the bed and playing with the linen beneath her with the tips of her fingers, only half of her face towards you. she hasn’t noticed that you’re awake yet, a serene smile gracing her face as she remembers a joke, something between her and herself. saeko, an angel.

it’s funny, you think, how mom always told me that mornings were times of clarity, times when things make sense. you remember a story she’d tell you when you were little.

“there’s something about the time when half the world is sleeping and the other half wishes they were sleeping,” she used to say, “that makes things make sense. everyone’s too groggy to start thinking their thoughts for the day. so the universe has all of these thought bubbles in the air, floating around, waiting for someone to just pluck it out of the air.”

“like a ballon?” you’d ask.

“yes,” she’d chuckle. “like a balloon. and you can just pluck it out of the air! sometimes, when the universe needs you to realize something, all those thought balloons will come rushing towards you, and they’ll form a big,” she’d spread her arms for emphasis, “big, big cloud of thoughts. and suddenly, everything would make sense. and you’d get the courage to do something that you’ve been wanting to for a while.”

you used to laugh at that story, imagining someone with a giant thought bubble sneaking out of their ears, carrying them up, up into the air. what could someone even be thinking about, you’d wonder, that would make their bubble so big? you couldn’t fathom contemplating something so large and important that you’d worry it could whisk you away into the atmosphere.

but now, laying here in silence, mom’s words were resurfacing to the flesh of your chest, warming it with something that had been burning there for a while, burning with what the universe had been wanting you to realize for quite some time now.

you were just scratching the surface of what that was threatened to make you weightless, the strings of balloons tugging restlessly at your arms and legs, wishing you’d just let them fly already. wishing you’d just let yourself fly.

you don’t even realize your eyes are closing until you glance back up again, at the angel perched next to you, wingless yet still able to show you the wonders of the sky. saeko, an angel.

you study her for who-knows-how-long, noting the sheer beauty before you, so delicate yet strong you worry it’ll break itself or break you from the weight of its magnificence. she doesn’t even know, you register, she doesn’t even know that each moment around her is a blessing.

and you know for a fact that each moment is a blessing, because angels are blessings, and she’s an angel. somewhere in the murky depths of moral ambiguity, between drops of bitter vodka from a teenage birthday party and stolen quarters from the mall fountain, there is a glow of truth and irrefutable certitude: that she is an angel. saeko, an angel.

and you, blessed.

wisps of blonde hair curl from her forehead to her jaw, whispering words in gold that you can only partially translate into a hymn of some kind, its rhythm vibrating along the headboard of the bed and prodding at your ears. you wish to brush them behind her ears, so cliche, she’d say, just so you can see more of that heavenly face. god, you groan internally, why’d you make her so fucking perfect? how’s that fair to any of us mortals? how’s that fair to me?

you trail your eyes down the bridge of her nose, slanted perfectly. you’ve never really thought about what the perfect nose bridge would be, but you know without a doubt that she has it. of course she does. saeko’s perfect. saeko, an angel.

and before you can help yourself, you’re tracing the curve of her lips, plump and pink and oh-so-kissable. you’d drown in those lips if you tried: visions of how they stretch into cheeky grins and purse into pouts could flood your mind if you let them. and you don’t let them, at least not as often anymore, especially since her lips can be really distracting, and last time you thought about them you were driving, and saeko shrieked in laughter when you called her telling her the reason there’s a new dent on the side of the car.

“we can’t both be bad drivers!” she’d giggled. “that’s feeding into the gay stereotype!”

“it’s not my fault,” you’d grumbled, “that i can only concentrate on one thing when i’m behind the wheel.”

“that ‘thing’ should be the road! not my lips!”

“yeah, i know! but ‘i kissed a girl’ was on the radio and then i thought about kissing a girl and that girl was you and then one thing led to another and...”

the corners of your lips turn up at the memory. although you had been pretty pissed about having to pay for a repair, saeko proceeded to try and fix the dent herself with a plunger since she has a vendetta against auto shops because “they’ll take advantage of pretty things like you” and “motorcycles aren’t that different from cars anyway, so its fine.” and she was sure to give you some quality time with the lips that you’d been so distracted by, so even the fact that your insurance company had upped your rates hadn’t bothered you too much.

the strings of your thought balloons dangle in the air, glowing in the sunlight streaming through the window. you wonder how saeko hasn’t seen them yet. she must really be lost in thought.

your gaze remains steady on her face, her glory, her beauty. i’m lucky, you decide. so so lucky. you can feel your limbs be lifted slowly into the air. the balloons are getting restless.

you’re almost taken aback when you feel something wet roll down your cheek. are you... crying? seriously? you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to get a hold of your emotions. when’s even the last time i felt this in lo—

“hey.” saeko’s soft voice makes you crack open your eyelids as she runs a hand along your hair. “are you okay? you’re crying.”

you smoosh your face further into the pillow. “i don’t know,” you mumble through the comforter.

she repositions herself on the bed so that she’s sitting criss-cross towards you, leaning forward to bring her face closer to yours. “are you on your period?”

“no,” you respond immediately. you nuzzle further into the sheets, but poke your head out again. “wait, i’m not sure. what day is it?”

“the 21st.”

“oh,” you roll over onto your back, stretching your arms out hoping that she’ll hug you. “then maybe.”

saeko obliges to your silent request, crawling her way over and straddling the blanket over your legs before resting the top half of her body on yours. “i knew it,” she whispers into your neck.

you don’t dare look her in the eyes. you know that mortals will disintegrate if they look directly at an angel. you read that in a percy jackson book or something.

but the thought balloons are yanking at your arms, forcing your fingers to run down her spine and through her hair. i must be insane, you think. i’m insane to think that i’ll ever be enough for her.

she’s an angel, you remind yourself to no avail. wingless, but can still fly. and you are nothing but a human, rooted to the ground by gravity and inevitable death. you’d be a fool to think that you’d ever be enough; after all, what bird would choose to stay on the ground when it can explore a limitless sky?

but you are a fool. you know that now, even if you were in denial before. you’ll let your delicate and fragile thought bubbles carry you into the air and bask in the temporary feelings of freedom before they pop and you crash and burn through the atmosphere. you’ll let yourself believe a vain and untrue fairytale that humans can fly among the angels if it means that you can be in her presence for a moment longer.

you most certainly are a fool, because you let your thought bubbles wrap their strings around you like a harness, pull themselves taut, and prepare yourself to jump out into the morning heavens, putting your trust into the wind to carry you alongside her. your toes are dangling across the edge, the open beyond becoming more and more appealing than the safety of the hotel room. you know that there is no do-over once you take the leap, once you try to fly. you’ll either get to fly beside her or you’ll fall to the ground and face an untimely end. but fuck if you aren’t daring, yearning, stupid enough to jump.

you swallow. there really is no going back from this.

“saeko?” you let the words carry through the stagnant air of the room, filled with the lemony scent of an air freshener and saeko’s shampoo.

“hm?”

“i—” the wind whips widely at your back and at your balloons, sending them into all directions as they maintain their hold on you. it’s compelling you to fall, to throw caution into it and hold tightly to your faith and let go of your tether. you must be crazy because you’ve already made up your mind. this decision shouldn’t be that easy, but you are scarily sure.

the earth’s roots are retreating back into the grass and your body is free for the first time. you can’t tell if the air will catch you, but it doesn’t matter anymore. you’ll be the first human to fly, even if it kills you. it probably will.

“i love you.” your feet leave ground and find nothing below them. the helium in your balloons is straining against your weight. your breath hitches—maybe this is how your life ends. maybe this is how the illusion that you’d created for yourself, a love between a human and an angel, disappears: shattered like bones on concrete.

you open your eyes. you hadn’t even realized you closed them. they meet a sky of warm brown, glinting with the promise of flight. the brightness of her smile makes the light of the sun pale in comparison, the same sun she’s gotten closer to than you ever will. her nose is dotted with freckles, mirroring the constellations that you’re sure she’s flown through countless times. you can practically see her wings, her halo. your confession, one you thought would land heavily in the space between you, feels like its expanding into something light. something... weightless.

the air seems to grow solid beneath you. it’s like you’ve realized you can fly. you’re starting to think you can.

“i love you, too.”

she loves you. saeko loves you.

saeko, an angel.

#hq #haikyuu #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq smut #haikyuu smut #saeko tanaka #saeko x reader #saeko x y/n #saeko smut #saeko fluff #hq saeko #[ 🎞 ] — anihaven

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pilferingapples · 4 years ago

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I think most people know that Hugo based the scene with Fantine and Bamatabois on an incident he saw himself? Here’s some of his full account of it, taken as a snippet from a story titled in translation A Woman of The Streets. Since the account of the attack itself is pretty much just what he wrote in LM, I’m just copying over his account of post-arrest conversations with the police. Some notes: this is from a one-volume collection of various Hugo works put out by Black’s Readers Service , initially in 1927. The translator is uncredited.

I’m not entirely sure when this was written, but it takes place a couple days after Hugo was elected to the Academy in 1841--specifically two days after, and follows a dinner with Delphine Gay-Girardin, who I’ve mentioned before. For some reason, Our Humble Author refers to himself in 3rd person as “V.H.” throughout. Under a cut for Long Post!

(following the attack and the arrest of the woman)

V.H., interested in spite of himself in the unhappy woman, followed them, amid the crowd of people which is never wanting on such an occasion.

Arriving near the station, V.H. conceived the idea of going in and taking up the cause of the woman. But he said to himself that he was well known, that just then the newspapers had been full of his name for two days past(because he had just been elected to the Academie) , and that to mix himself up in such an affair was to lay himself open to all kinds of disagreeable banter. In short , he did not go in.

The office into which the girl had been taken was on the ground-floor , overlooking the street. He looked through the window at what was going on. He saw the poor woman lie down upon the floor in despair and tear her hair; he was moved to pity, he began to reflect, and the result of his reflections what that he decided to go in.

When he set foot in the office a man who was seated before a table , lighted by a candle, writing, turned around and said to him in a sharp, peremptory tone of voice, "What do you want, sir?" "Sir, I was a witness of what took place just now; I come to make a deposition as to what I saw, and to speak to you in this woman's favor. "

At these words the woman looked at V.H. in mute astonishment, and as though dazed.

"Your deposition, more or less interested, will be unavailing. This woman has been guilty of an assault in a public thoroughfare. She struck a gentleman. She will get six months' imprisonment.”

The woman once more began to cry, scream, and roll over and over. Other women, who had come and joined her, said to her , "We will come and see you. Never mind. We will bring you some linen things. Take that for the present." And at the same time they gave her money and sweetmeats.

"When you know who I am," said V.H., "you will, perhaps, change your manner and tone, and will listen to me."

"Who are you, then?"

V.H. saw no reason for not giving his name.

He gave his name. The Commissary of Police, for he was a Commissary of Police, was prolific of excuses, and became as polite and deferential as he had before been arrogant; offered him a chair, and begged him to be good enough to be seated.

(Hugo describes the events anyone will recognize from Fantine's encounter with Bamatabois)

During this defence(sic), the woman, more and more surprised, beamed with joy and emotion. "How good the gentleman is! " she said , "how good he is! I never knew so good a gentleman. But then I never saw him. I do not know him at all."

The Commissary of Police said to V.H. : "I believe all that you allege, but the policemen have reported the case, and there is a charge made out. Your deposition will be entered in the charge-sheet, you may be sure. But justice must take its course, and I cannot set the woman at liberty. "

"What! After what I have just told you, and what is the truth--truth which you cannot and do not doubt-- you are going to detain this woman? Then this justice is a horrible injustice!"

"There is only one condition on which I could end the matter, and that is that you would sign your deposition. Will you do so?"

"If the liberty of this woman depends on my signature, here it is." And V.H. signed.

The woman continuously repeated, " How good the gentleman is! How good he is!"

These unhappy women are astonished and grateful not only when they are treated with sympathy, they are none the less so when they are treated with justice.

#Victor Hugo #our Very Humble Narrator #why is he in 3rd person? we may never know #Fantine relevant

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justlookfrightened · 7 years ago

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Building a life

I got this prompt from a random generator: “As he flicked through the letters, a small, handwritten envelope caught his attention and his heart began to thump.” Warning that it begins after Jack and Bitty have broken up. Hopeful ending.

As he flicked through the letters, a small, handwritten envelope caught his attention and his heart began to thump.

Jack would recognize that scrawl anywhere. It was the handwriting that covered dozens of sticky notes: on a bag of cookies tucked into his duffel bag, on hundreds of sandwiches he ate before games, on the bathroom mirror on days that Bitty -- that Eric -- had to leave before Jack got up.

It was the handwriting on the letter -- not on a sticky note this time -- Jack found after Bitty left.

The letter had been centered at the place at the head of the dining room table. It was a modern thing, all glass and steel, and it went well with the condo Jack bought in Vegas.

The paper had looked out of place, off-white linen stationery that Jack knew Bitty’s -- Eric’s -- mother had given him when he told her he wasn’t moving back to Georgia, not after graduation, not ever.

“She said she expects me to write her real letters every now and then,” Bitty -- he had been Bitty then in Jack’s mind, and he wasn’t here to argue about it, so Jack would remember him as Bitty if he wanted -- Bitty said. “She still wants to text and call and Skype, but she says sometimes it’s easier to share your real feelings by writing them down on paper.”

At the time, thinking of the way Bitty inscribed his love in each one of those sticky notes, Jack had agreed. He never saw that paper again, until the one sheet was centered at his place at the dining room table.

Most people thought the kiss at center ice after the Falconers won the cup was a big moment in their relationship. It was, in a way. That was the moment that he and Eric declared to the world that they were a couple. He’d braced himself for the backlash, told himself he could withstand anything for Eric.

The joke was on him. Sure, not everybody was happy. But the team and the league and his agent made it so he never had to see the worst of it. The refs even started calling the anti-gay slurs that they had let go before; he lived in a well-insulated, comfortable, well-paid bubble.

But that was the start. A month later, Eric was asked not to come back to the bakery where he’d talked himself into a job, half marketing and half baking. She loved him, the owner said, and he was doing great, but his status as the man who kissed Jack Zimmermann on TV was drawing too much of the wrong kind of attention. She offered to pay him for the rest of the summer, but asked him not to come in.

Eric had been sad, but Jack tried to comfort him by saying that they could spend more time together before school and their respective seasons started. Eric gave him a weak smile, and agreed, and Jack had tried to make sure he had a good time for the rest of the summer.

It had seemed a foregone conclusion that Eric would move in when he graduated. Jack didn’t remember them ever talking about it, beyond the logistics of how and when Eric would get his stuff to Providence.

When Eric took up residence, Jack breathed a sigh of relief. Now things were settled, and he could concentrate on hockey. Eric started attending games with the wives and girlfriends, started introducing himself as Eric instead of Bitty, made sure Jack’s life ran as smoothly as possible. Everyone loved him, Jack most of all.

But when they didn’t even make it to the playoffs that year, two years after winning it all, the organization started talking about making changes.

Jack had a year left on his contract, and he was costing the team a lot of money, and maybe he had just finished his third year, but 30 was looming. He wasn’t exactly expecting it, but he wasn’t exactly shocked, either, when he got the call saying he was traded.

Eric, though. Eric was devastated. He hadn’t been able to find what he called a “career track” job, but he babysat for Marty and Thirdy’s kids, he baked for special events (and did get paid for it), he was a fixture at Falconers charity events.

The year that followed was not good for either of them. St. Louis reminded Jack of nothing so much as purgatory, gray and unwelcoming and uncomfortable. Eric reached out to the team, to the WAGs, and … well, he said that he couldn’t fault them for civility. But over the months, he spent less time reaching out to people and more time on his vlog.

Jack poured his heart and soul into his hockey, hoping to attract interest from other teams as soon as he entered free agency so they could leave this godawful place.

Then came a year in LA, where Eric seemed to fit in a little better.The golden California sun loved him, Jack thought, and when they got dragged to a party with people from TV and movies, Bitty mixed and mingled with abandon.

The trade to Vegas surprised them both, but Jack figured it would be fine. How different could it be?

It turned out the difference between the shore and the desert was vast indeed. The sun that caressed Eric in Los Angeles glared at him in Vegas and exposed all his flaws. Or maybe it just showed the flaws in everything.

Eric complained about the heat, about the tourists, about the excess of everything. He didn’t like the condo, he didn’t like the furniture (the furniture he bought, because it went with the style of the condo), he didn’t like the showgirls that hung around the team. He didn’t like Kent, but he had never liked Kent.

“He just wants to be friends, Eric,” Jack explained. “And he’s the captain. I have to spend time with him, and it would be good if you did, too.”

“No, thank you, Mr. Zimmermann,” Eric said. “You suit yourself, but I’ll keep myself busy.”

That was the week before Jack found the letter at his place at the dining room table.

“Dear Jack,

“I love you. I know that’s a strange way to start a Dear John letter, but it’s true. I love you more than anything, and I know you love me.

“But it’s not enough. I used to think it would be, that we would get married and adopt babies and grow old together. But I kind of think I’ve stopped growing at all, and I can’t take root here.

“This isn’t my place, and it’s not going to be. It’s Kent Parson’s, and I guess it’s yours now. I’m putting this letter at the head of our dining room table, but I can count the number of times we’ve eaten here together on one hand.

“I guess it’s a good thing we never did get married. Not being legally bound together makes this so much easier.

“I’m not angry, and I don’t blame you. I always knew hockey was your first love, and hockey is a jealous lover.

“Please don’t worry about me. I’m going to try to disappear for a while, try to figure out what I want and what I need before I start over. Don’t try to find me.

“I know this will hurt you, and I’m sorry.

“Love, Eric.”

Jack had wanted to howl, wanted to collapse, when he read it. He called Kent, who shrugged, and said, “Is that the first time someone cut you off like that? Doesn’t feel great, does it?”

He called Shitty, whom he hadn’t talked to in six months, and was advised to follow Eric’s instructions.

“Brah, how much time were even spending together?” Shitty asked. “I’m pretty sure Bits was lonely.”

“Do you know where he is?” Jack asked, point-blank.

“Yes,” Shitty said. “But he asked me not to tell you. He told me to be there for you -- he said you’ll need someone -- but not to say where he is.”

“Is he alright?” Jack asked.

“Brah, he’s wrecked,” Shitty said. “Says he doesn’t know who he is without being attached to you. But he doesn’t want to just be an appendage.”

“Okay,” Jack said. “But could you tell him something for me?”

“Maybe,” Shitty said.

“Tell him that I’ll always love him, and I’m sorry I didn’t see what he needed,” Jack said. “Tell him that he’s it for me, and when he finds what he needs, if he still wants me, I’ll be there. Will you tell him?”

Shitty shrugged.

“Depends,” he said. “I’m not gonna lay a guilt trip on him.”

Now, a year and another Stanley Cup later, there was a small off-white envelope, addressed to him in Bitty’s -- Eric’s -- handwriting. The return address was in Providence, the address of the bakery that had asked Eric to leave and not come back.

“Dear Jack,

“Congrats on the Cup. Now I know why everyone was so excited about you and Kent playing together. Including Kent.

“Shitty chose the night you won to pass on your message. I think he wanted to wait until I knew you were alright.

“I’m alright, too. I don’t know if you realized, but I managed to save a lot of money while we were together -- well, a lot for me. Probably not for you. But it was enough to buy myself into a partnership in this bakery. The plan is to take the whole thing over in a few years when my partner retires. Business partner, I mean.

“I have friends and a job and a life, and I guess I could say I’m happy, and it wouldn’t be a lie. Thank you for giving the space I needed to do that. But I do miss you.

“If you want to get back in touch, you have my address.”

“Love, Bitty”

Jack put the letter down, and thought about buying some stationery to write back. Then he decided to take the more direct route. He called his agent and asked her to book him on the next flight to Providence.

He didn’t know exactly how this would work. But it would, somehow. And in a few years when he retired, his partner -- his life partner -- would be in Providence, not waiting for him, but building a life they could share.

#zimbits #omgcheckplease #omg check please #my fic

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kraavo · 7 years ago

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vacation home

hhey this is me crying over how cute they are: the fic

words: 2,916

summary: Taako and Krav leave for the first day of vacation and they’re staying somewhere really rad.

pairing: Taakitz (natch)

fic is under the cut let’s a go!

Death had acquired some fresh faces in light of recent events; it wasn’t an issue really, because if you abided by the natural laws, you would only see a reaper once. The previously lone reaper is given time, a thing he hasn’t been granted in a good while. Kravitz would normally not know what to do with this. Every affair, every meeting, every journey was for the sake of his bounty. Time for pleasure.Time for a well-earned vacation.

He looked so cute, he thought. Kravitz had been ready about an hour ago, which isn’t to say that Taako was late; Kravitz was just so early on account of not having anything else to occupy himself with during this unfamiliar amount of breathing room. He sits on Taako’s bed in one of the many pairs of finely tailored pants that he owns, a tasteful button up shirt and jacket on his back.

Awe is probably the proper word to describe the way that he’s staring. His boyfriend faces the beautifully crafted armoire that a friend gifted to him, (only the best for Taako) and his backside is to Kravitz. The travel bag is stuffed beyond its brim on the floor. Taako fervently looks through his wardrobe. Taako had the clothes that he’s supposed to be wearing right now laid out separately the night before, and he knew damn well and good where he put them, but for that moment he stood in only his boyshort underwear that said “CAAAKES” across the ass, pretending not to know where he put them so that Kravitz could look at his butt for just a little longer.

Taako bends down to open a drawer. “Oh!”

“Found them?”

“I did find my clothing, yes.” Taako holds a nice cold-shoulder silk shirt up at eye-level, letting the garment unfold in front of him. There is a warmth that envelops Taako from behind and puts its hands at his waist. Kravitz kisses Taako’s jawbone and sways slightly with his boyfriend in his arms. “Krav, don’t get me wrong, m’man, but if I don’t get dressed we’ll never leave.”

“Oh but I’m so comfortable right here.” Kravitz hums lowly.

Taako shoos Kravitz away at a hand playfully, and Kravitz flops back on the bed, unsatisfied but laughing. “Quit being gay.” Taako tells him.

Taako pulls on a pair of nice black pants, followed by heeled boots, and finally his shirt. He sits at his desk and brushes his hair, fixes his eyeliner a bit. “Hey, you’ve been super warm as of late.” Taako says, still focused on his mirror. “What’s that all about, stud?”

Kravitz sits up and looks at Taako via the mirror, suddenly exuberant. “I know, right? It’s nice, isn’t it?” He pauses. “It is nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I dig it!” Taako plucks a brow hair. “You just used to be so cold”

“I’ve made it a habit to sit on my hands more so that I don’t make you chilly.”

Taako turns around in his chair, stands up and kisses Kravitz. “So good to me.”

“Aw shucks.” Kravitz doesn’t notice that he blushes, but he certainly does. Taako sits on the floor and struggles to zip his bag up, but he does it somehow and stands up with it.

“Sweet fuck this is heavy.”

“You know that this is just a week, right? You didn’t need to bring the whole house?” Kravitz relieves Taako of the overstuffed bag, putting the straps over his shoulders.

“So strong!” Taako praises, meanwhile Kravitz is about to break a sweat holding this thing.

“Thanks. I am quite ripped.” Kravitz summons his scythe in hand and looks at his boyfriend. “Do you have everything?”

Taako looks around the room for a moment. “Uhhh..” He grabs his hat, and places it on his head. He looks out the window. “And before noon, too!”

Kravitz smiles. “Lup has your key?”

“Yes, yes, just do your thing and we can be out of this stink house!”

Kravitz laughs “Fine, fine.” He slashes the air with the scythe, and looks back at Taako to speak one last time before leaving. “Honey, do you know what the best part of being with me is?”

“What’s that?”

“Travel is very inexpensive.”

Kravitz takes Taako’s hand and guides him through the newly-cut rift. Taako steps over the boundary and realizes that Kravitz hasn’t taken him anywhere via scythe before. The experience is very new to say the least. One of Taako’s feet steps on black grass, and the other is still in his room. He forgets why he agreed to go to the Plane Of Death for his vacation for a second, but then he looks up and remembers.

They pass through and the rift is gone.

Fiddling with his sleeve, Kravitz asks, “Is this… suitable?” he waits for Taako’s approval, and in front of them is a black, victorian styled estate. They stand on the grass, but whoever owns this place probably wouldn’t prefer that, since the lawn is finely manicured, and there is a long strip of pavement, fragmented by large gates.

“This is rad as all hell. How many stars’ this place got?”

Kravitz looks at Taako and hesitates, he’s a little confused, which makes Taako a little confused. With furrowed brows, Kravitz tells Taako, “Taako, this is my house.”

Taako laughs. “You are most definitely fucking with me right now.”

Kravitz laughs back. “I am surely not!”

“Krav.” Taako smiles incredulously.

“Taako, I promise I’m not kidding!” Kravitz observes the mansion. He hasn’t seen it in some time. “I’m never here because, well I don’t need to sleep and I’m always working.” Taako is staring pretty intently, now. This can’t be Kravitz’s house. If Taako owned something this impressive, he’d never shut up about it. “Being the grim reaper is sort of a big deal, Taako.” Kravitz smirks smugly at him. “And I’m quite good at my job.”

Taako takes in the glory of the mansion another time and puts the heel of his palm to his forehead, speechless and slack-jawed.

“Is this okay?”

“Why have you never told me about this?!”

“Oh I don’t like to brag.” Contrary to this, Kravitz is quite enjoying Taako’s astoundment. He enjoyed surprising.

“Shit! Does this mean Lup gets one of these bad boys?”

“To be fair Lup and Barry have decided to share one.”

“Oh we are definitely moving in when I’m dead.” Taako begins to walk towards the gates.

Kravitz chuckles. “Hopefully not too soon, then.”

They reach the gate, and Kravitz summons an archaic looking key in his fingers, and turns it in its lock.

“Gods, it’s just… so big.”

Kravitz conceals a little bit of laughter.

Taako sighs, somewhat in admiration. “Handsome and mature. Love it.”

Kravitz’s chest bounces a little with silent laughter. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Just come in.” Kravitz opens the door like the gentleman he is and Taako takes in the interior.

Good lord, there’s even a spiral staircase. To his right he could see a fine linen sofa, next to it was a smaller chair looking to be of equal comfort, and in front of that a coffee table. Mirrors lined one of the walls, and on the wall opposite that one, there was a piano with two bottles of wine, bound together by a red ribbon. The ribbon was very bright contrasted with the rest of the desaturated world.

“I didn’t know you could play piano.” Taako sits at the bench and admires the pristine ivory keys.

“Oh I play lots of instruments.” Kravitz drops the travel bag and sits next to Taako, enjoying their closeness. He places his hands on the keys and asks, “Would you like to be my page turner?”

“Hell yeah I would! Play something romantic for me.”

Kravitz picks up the book of sheet music on the piano stand, flips a few pages, and stops. “Oh, this is a good one. You’ll enjoy this one.” He places the sheet music back on the stand and plays. Taako listens.

It’s beautiful. Slow and fluent, Kravitz plays the song artfully on the keys, not letting his fingers miss a beat. You would think he was a concert pianist, the way he was playing. Taako is moonstruck over the man next to him. He hadn’t even heard Johann play something so beautiful, but that is possibly because Johann isn’t what Kravitz is to Taako. Taako lays his head on Kravitz shoulder, and Kravitz’s heart jumps a little when he feels him there. He stops playing.

Taako raises his head. “Why’d you stop?”

Kravitz giggles and turns his head to Taako. “You need to turn the page, love.”

“Oh yeah!”

“Nonono it’s fine, darling.” Kravitz stands up, and Taako’s eyes follow him. “Big week of vacation ahead of us. We’d best unpack your things.”

“Oy.” Taako stands, then looks around again at the vast, criminally clean household. “I’m so glad we have this place all to ourselves, Krav.”

Kravitz hoists the bag up again. Strained, he says,“Why’s that?”

Taako pulls Kravitz in for a kiss and tells him lowly, “Because I can be as loud as I want.”

Being so easily flustered, Kravitz struggles to respond seductively. “I see.” Taako slowly ascends the spiral staircase, not looking back because he doesn’t need to see his boyfriend to know how hard he’s blushing. Kravitz struggles with Taako’s things up the stairs. Taako turns around and casts levitate on the bag, grabs it by the straps, and guides it up the steps.

“Why didn’t you do that while we were at your house?!”

Taako eyes Kravitz over his shoulder. “I like to make you feel special.”

“I feel a special kink in my back.”

“Good thing we have a spa day planned huh?”

“Good thing indeed.”

They place their things in Kravitz’s master bedroom. Taako is certainly going to love it here. “You know being dead isn’t as bad as everyone makes it out to be, huh?” Taako asks, leaving the bag to float at a safe distance overhead.

“Death is just monochrome life, I think.” Kravitz notes. “Everything is just constructed from memories of the departed, and there are quite a lot of those to go around.” Kravitz pulls the curtains apart and looks out the window. It’s a nice day in the astral plane. Taako falls back on Kravitz’s enormous bed.

“When was the last time you slept, Krav?” Taako asks from the comfort of his spot.

“Well that was um…” He thinks on it. “about two weeks ago. I fell asleep on the couch with you.”

“You fell asleep?” Taako is smitten, for some reason he’s so proud that he was able to get him to do something that didn’t come to him naturally anymore.

“I did. It was nice. I like sleeping with you.”

Taako smiles a very genuine smile. “Such a sweetie.”

Kravitz turns from the window, and joins Taako in the bed.

They face each other. Taako toys around with one of Kravitz’s dreads in his fingers. He eyes the piece of hair over. And over. And over. He is mesmerized by Kravitz’s hair for the moment, as he often was.

Kravitz watches the slight movement in Taako’s pupils with a smile. The vacant stare. The seemingly empty moments viewed from the outside. There was always so much in the smallest space where their chests weren’t touching. Not in between them, never separating them, but rather unifying them, sheltering them. Kravitz asks, “What was the agenda for today? What did we leave so early for?”

“I do believe the plan was for me to get a tour of the afterlife. I was gonna get the scoop on your whole operation today, cutie, but um, now that we’re here I kind of want to stay to be honest.” Taako laughs a nervous laugh, hoping that Kravitz won’t make them leave the house for the sake of the schedule.

Kravitz isn’t phased at all. By the look of it, Kravitz could die (again) and be a happy man right where he lays. With the same lovestruck look on his freshly shaven, clean face he says, “I was ready to go before you even woke just to do nothing all day with you?”

“Well we could still g-”

“We can stay, Taako.”

They kiss atop the comfortable fabric of the bedspread; it’s still as nice as it was the first time. It will be just as nice the next time. And it will still be just as nice in a century. Fully clothed and still madly in love.

They pull apart, but just barely. There’s still an inch between them, that is if you’re being generous. Kravitz hand is placed on Taako’s cheek, and Taako’s hand over that hand. The former grazes his thumb back and forth on the skin.

“I love you.”

Taako’s pupils shift a few times, searching the other man’s face for the right words, and settles. “I love you too, Krav.”

More smiling. A powerful storm of smooches attacks Taako’s face, and there’s more laughing. It is a beautiful day.

Kravitz eventually reasons that there’s no use in wearing this kind of clothing, so he leaves the bed and opens the walk-in closet, full of seamlessly and perfectly tailored items. He opens a dresser drawer to pull out a pair of grey sweatpants and a t-shirt that Taako got for him. The shirt had a cute little picture of a skeleton in a black robe skateboarding and smiling; in black writing above the little skeleton it reads, “grin reaper.” Kravitz undressed in the closet, putting his clothes into a hamper. He walks out in underwear, Taako immediately has to say something.

“Hachi machi! Should’ve at least told me that we were about to get it on before you stripped down.”

Kravitz’s face heats up. “I’m just getting dressed, you hornball.”

“Oh bother. Later tonight, then?”

“Of course.” He goes to pull on the sweatpants before he’s stopped.

“WAIT wait wait. Let me spank it once before you put on pants.”

Kravitz glares at Taako, then turns to face the wall. “Once.”

Taako practically flies out of the bed to stand behind Kravitz. He’s giggling, which is going to turn into howling laughter in a few seconds. Kravitz’s hands are on the wall supporting a good portion of his weight. He’s looking at the floor. Taako whispers, “I’ll count you down so you know when it’s coming, ok?”

“Fine.”

“Okay. One…” Taako smacks Kravitz’s ass fairly hard. He yelps and arches his spine. He covers his butt and looks at Taako feeling more flushed and betrayed than he’s ever felt in all his years. Taako is laughing so hard that he’s struggling to breathe. He is splitting at the sides over how utterly hilarious this is.

“You’re a terrible boyfriend!”

“I KNOW, I KNOW, JUST GIMME A SEC.” Taako somehow gets words out through the wheezing.

There’s a bathroom joined to the bedroom, and Kravitz sprints into it, snatching an embroidered washcloth while tears still stream down Taako’s cheeks. Simpering, Kravitz whips Taako with the cloth. Taako chases after Kravitz and they’re running now. Playing tag like children, giggling and jumping on furniture, this somehow leads them into the rest of the day of “nothing.”

Eventually Taako would abandon his clothing in favor of a big Kravitz shirt. Eventually, Kravitz has to tie his unruly hair up into a bun because he’s sweating now. Eventually, their sliding around on hardwood floor in their socks, which becomes slow dancing. The bottles of wine weren’t forgotten. So soon, there was drunken dancing, drunken kissing, drunken piano playing, drunken giggles that don’t really ever find their end until it’s time to submit to the bed’s comfort. They would get to the promised sex that night, which lasts quite some time because neither of them wanted to sleep. Neither of them wanted the day to be over, but the sweat and exhaustion of it all left no other option. They lay, swaddled in each other’s clammy grasp but neither really minding. Chest heaving from just exerting the last of his energy into this one fuck, Taako asks, “We’ll do that again this week, right?”

“What, the sex or running around the house like idiots?”

“No, the sex.”

“Oh, wouldn’t be a vacation without it.” Kravitz lowers his head to wink at Taako.

Taako hum-laughs and scoots closer to him. They face each other, admiring small features in the comfortable silence.

“Are you gonna sleep tonight?”

“I don’t think I have a choice, love. If I have to wait for tomorrow while I’m still conscious I’ll lose my mind.”

Taako’s eyes are closed now, but he’s still half awake, focusing on the lazy conversation. “Why’s that?”

Kravitz murmurs “It’s because I can’t wait to wake up and see your pretty face.” Taako opens his eyes. He’s never been good at articulating emotions. Mushy lovey-dovey gunk was never Taako’s wheelhouse, but he says the words in the way he knows how to. He holds Kravitz’s jaw and kisses him gently. Kravitz kisses back, and it’s just so nice.

They pull away. The lights were switched off the second they slid under the sheets, so they looked at each other as best they could in the darkness. Kravitz admits into the lack of light, more to himself than Taako, “I’m in love.” He thinks to himself as they doze off that now, more than ever, he is so grateful for vacation days.

#please praise me for my garbage #this was so fun to write #taakitz #taakitz fic #taako #kravitz #2k+ words #fluff #fics #kraavo

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