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padfootagain · 27 days ago

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Love in Verses (XXIII)

Chapter 23 : ‘Even the dearest that I loved the best are strange – nay, rather, stranger than the rest’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! One of my favs, to be honest, it’s one of the first chapters I wrote for this fic, so it had a special place in my heart.

Also, Saoirse and Sean are back! I’m also making a reference to a documentary in this chapter, I was thinking about Brainwashed directed by Nina Menkes, you can check it out if you’d like!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

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Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3694

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

I am

I am—yet what I am none cares or knows; My friends forsake me like a memory lost: I am the self-consumer of my woes— They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes And yet I am, and live—like vapours tossed

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, Into the living sea of waking dreams, Where there is neither sense of life or joys, But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems; Even the dearest that I loved the best Are strange—nay, rather, stranger than the rest.

I long for scenes where man hath never trod A place where woman never smiled or wept There to abide with my Creator, God, And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept, Untroubling and untroubled where I lie The grass below—above the vaulted sky.

John Clare

Andrew was fucking panicking.

Bloody panicking.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, and it had to be useful at one point to have an older brother… right?

Andrew would never admit that he needed reassurance, that he needed guidance, a protective figure to pat him on the back and tell him what to do next, and that it was the reason why he had driven to his brother’s on that Monday night. Of course not. Jon was his brother after all. Andrew would never admit any of that out loud, even if it were true.

The hike had happened the day before, that moment he had realised he was falling in love with you. That he was in love with you.

Bloody hell…

“So, let me get this clear…” Jon spoke with his elbows resting on his knees, bent over and leaning towards Andrew, struggling to gather his thoughts. “You thought you were still in love with Sam. Who left you for your colleague’s ex. And you thought ‘hey, what dumb idea could I bring to the table today’ and it led you to try to get back with the woman who cheated on you…”

“She didn’t cheat on me, she left me before she got with Frank.”

“How do you know that? Did you ask her?”

“Frank told Y/N he broke up with her before anything happened with Sam.”

“And she dumped you two weeks after he dumped her. You don’t know what happened.”

Andrew felt a lump creeping up his throat again, and he averted his gaze, rubbing roughly at his collarbone.

“Anyway, let’s move on…” Jon brushed the argument away with a quick gesture of the hand. “You tried to get back with Sam and to help Y/N get back with Frank… and then you fell in love with Y/N. Your colleague. Whom you share an office with.”

“I mean… yeah, kind of… I guess…”

Jon buried his face in his hands.

“I swear to God, Andy… it looks like you purposefully want to ruin your own life.”

“I can’t control the way I feel, Jon!”

“This is madness! She’s in love with her ex!”

“I know!”

Andrew’s voice was shaking more than he wanted it to. Jon looked up at him, reading him like an open book, and Andrew hated it.

“I know, okay?!” Andrew went on, voice still shaking while his throat tightened. “I know! I know I’ve fucked up everything with Sam! I know she got better than me! I know I’ve never stood a chance at getting her back! And I know Y/N is too good for me! I know we’re colleagues and that would complicate everything! And I know, I fuck… fucking know that she’s in love with someone else! I know! I know but I don’t know how to fix this! So can you, for once, be useful and tell me what to do now? Cause… I… I don’t know… Jon, I don’t know…”

God, Andrew hated himself for breaking in front of his brother, for letting the tears escape, but he couldn’t help it. This was too much. He simply couldn’t handle this…

Before he could add anything, Jon had stood up from his armchair and was sitting next to his brother on his couch. He didn’t say a word as he pulled him into a hug.

“Come on, Andy… it’s gonna be fine. You’ll be just fine.”

“Christ… I’m so fucking lost… I don’t know what to do Jon…”

“Do you truly love her? Y/N? Or is she just a rebound.”

“I don’t know…”

He was lying. Of course, Andrew was lying, because he couldn’t say it out loud, how could he? He couldn’t say it to himself… he couldn’t feel like that again…

“Say it. Say it out loud.”

Jon would get it out of him, and Andrew knew that he needed to let it out, to embrace the feeling, but it was so painful… pulling on a knife stuck in a bleeding wound…

“Andy… say it. Answer me.”

Andrew closed his eyes, resting his cheek on his brother’s shoulder, looking across the room. There were posters in black and white of old movies on each wall, and across from Andrew, James Dean was staring at him, a cigarette in his mouth. And Andrew stared at those eyes in black and white, and they stared back. Unwavering. Immortalised on paper and ink. Young, free, rebellious, without a cause…

“I love her,” Andrew whispered. “I love her, Jon. I’m falling more and more every time I see her.”

“Is it serious? Or just a crush?”

Andrew shrugged.

“I’m in love. I feel… like I could love her more than I’ve ever loved Sam… How can I feel like that? I thought Sam was the one! I thought we would stay together, I… I thought about marrying her at one point!”

“She wasn’t good for you, Andy.”

“You sound like mom. And dad.”

“When were they ever wrong? About anything?”

Andrew sniffed, knowing damn well the answer, refusing to admit it.

“She was nice enough,” Jon conceded. “She was smart, beautiful, successful… but she didn’t care enough, Andy. She didn’t care enough about you. She was selfish, in her way of loving you. You deserve better than that.”

Andrew pondered these words, wanted to believe them, couldn’t…

“What do I do now? It’s a mess…”

“Yeah, it’s messy… But you’ll be fine. You need to do whatever makes you happy.”

“What a shitty answer. Did you find it in a bloody fortune cookie or something?”

“Do you still want to be with Sam?”

Andrew took a moment to think.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think so… I don’t know…”

“Do you want to be with Y/N?”

“She doesn’t want that…”

“That was not my question.”

Andrew struggled to swallow, but nodded.

“Yeah… yeah, I want her.”

“Then, love her. Maybe, with a bit of time, she’ll love you too.”

“What do I do to make her love me?”

But Jon chuckled.

“I’m single, remember? How am I supposed to know that?”

Valid point. But Andrew reckoned that he could at least try. He could find the things you didn’t like, he could change… maybe… be better for you…

There was silence for a moment, Andrew sniffed, looking at James Dean still. It was raining outside, as per usual. On the windowpane close to the poster, raindrops formed lines that turned the world into a blur. Dublin was but rough shapes and patches of brown, grey and white.

“How did you realise?”

“What?” Andrew croaked.

“That you love Y/N.”

“I won’t tell you. You’re gonna laugh at me.”

“I won’t laugh. You’re crying.”

“Like that has ever stopped you before!”

“Come on, I know you’re truly upset, I won’t take the piss. Tell me.”

Andrew heaved a sigh.

“We went hiking yesterday. And the day was so great, she was so funny… and then we took a break and she had brought snacks, and… she had all my favourites. Like… it was so fucking sweet…”

Jon started chuckling.

“She brought you snacks, and you fell for her?”

“You don’t understand.”

Andrew broke their hold, got up in a jolt. He was rubbing at his collarbone again.

“She… she did that for me. And she… she knows me… like… she knew what I liked. That’s… I don’t know how to explain it. I felt so… understood… like… Like I wasn’t on my own for a moment, you know? Like there was actually someone who cared enough about me to go through all the trouble of learning what I like and showing it… just to make me happy. Like…”

Andrew heaved a sigh.

“Anyway… I knew you’d laugh at me.”

“If I give you a cracker, will you declare your undying love for me?”

“Fuck off!”

Before he could tell his brother another insult, Jon was throwing a cushion at his head, making Andrew huff as he lost his balance for a second.

He was laughing again as he picked up the cushion and threw it back.

But that didn’t answer his question.

What would Andrew do now?

When he eventually got home, he wasn’t sleepy at all. Instead of going to bed, he scrolled aimlessly on his phone, wasting his time on social media. Once he had enough of it, he decided to organise his photos on his phone. He put them into files, kept some messily saved without any home.

And then he reached the pictures he had taken the previous day, of your hike. Landscape, trees, clouds, and you… you standing on top of that hill, while the world laid at you feet. Your red scarf, Elwood sitting by your feet. Your beanie, your warm coat. You were a silhouette on this picture, and yet he loved it, loved that feeling that you were towering over the world. His world.

He pressed his thumb on his screen a few times, and then admired his work. When he unlocked his phone again, instead of seeing Sam’s smiling face, he was seeing your frame among the Wicklow Hills.

He heaved a sigh.

What would Andrew do now?

Saoirse was fucking panicking.

Bloody panicking.

Essays were piling up and it was a bloody nightmare. A FUCKING NIGHTMARE.

She was going to fail. She was going to fail all of her exams, and especially the one about 20th century literature, because… who the fuck was mad enough to make a class about the fucking modernist avant-garde, huh?

Professor Hozier-Byrne was, of course. Of bloody course. It had to be the nicest of them too, and the hottest, and the one who actually gave two fucks about his students… which meant that she couldn’t even be mad at him and curse at him for the suffering she was enduring as she struggled with this James Joyce novel… For Christ’s sake…

She heaved a painful sigh, hitting repeatedly her head against her table. Sean merely laughed at her.

“Come on, it’s not that bad.”

“It is that bad. It is worse. It is DEATH! I don’t understand a bloody thing about that fucking novel.”

“It could be worse, we could be studying Ulysses, it’s only The portrait.”

“Yes, and I could catch the plague and meet my certain death, but I can still die if I catch pneumonia.”

“You’re exaggerating. Wait until we switch to Beckett. And apparently we’re gonna study The Third Policeman as well…”

She let out a long moan, faking a sob, her forehead pressed to the table, where her notes and books were scattered. She looked up at her computer screen.

“As if Woolfe was not enough already… Please… kill me… death will be a sweeter fate than this torture…”

She didn’t notice the way Sean smiled, with something tender tugging at his lips. But he did. He did, because warmth was spreading across his chest at her antiques, and he thought about how adorable she looked like this, being silly while studying and being ten times smarter than him.

“I’ll help you with that essay if you give me a hand with Y/L/N’s… Oscar Wilde is kicking my arse.”

“Ha! That I understand!” she sat up, happy again, and speaking a little too loudly in the busy but quiet library.

She mouthed a silent sorry as a couple of students glared at her.

“Y/L/N’s class is so much easier to me,” she went on. “I can’t with this bloody… stream of consciousness and whatnot.”

Sean was about to answer when he noticed that Saoirse wasn’t listening anymore, looking over his shoulder.

“What…?” he made a movement to turn around, but the girl stopped him with a hiss, reaching across the table to grab his forearm, and the contact dazzled him too much to allow him to move again.

“H-B and Y/L/N are right behind you.”

“And?”

“And… I want to listen on their conversation, obviously. Don’t you want to know the tea?”

He rolled his eyes, but focused to catch their words too anyway.

“Mr. Darcy? The Jane Austen character? Really?” Andrew said in a whisper, clearly unimpressed. “You’re saying that the perfect man, the fictional character that sets unreachable standards… is a guy from the 19th century? That’s not very modern of you…”

You turned around, eyeing him up and down in a judgemental way.

He was following you across the library, the book he wanted to borrow tucked under his arm. He didn’t need to go through the 19th century section, he wasn’t working on that. But you did. So, Andrew followed you around, just to keep you close for a moment, just to keep talking to you for a little longer than your impromptu encounter in the hall of the library about fifteen minutes ago, when you entered and he was about to reach the counter to borrow his book. You didn’t know that though. He had pretended that he had another book to look for but had asked for help. You had believed him, of course, why wouldn’t you?

And now you were giving him a lecture on the female gaze in literature, apparently…

“Mr. Darcy is the perfect example of the use of the female gaze, as opposed to the male gaze.”

“I mean… he’s kind of a jerk at the beginning. He fixes his mistakes, but he started as a gobshite.”

But you shook your head, scanning the shelf while you kept on talking.

“But that’s the point. He fixes his mistakes thinking it will change nothing. He doesn’t improve and changes because he thinks it’s going to lead to Elizabeth loving him. He changes because she makes him see how much of a jerk he can be, how he acted from only his point of view, without taking her into account. And her rejection makes him reevaluate his decisions. He fixes things because he realises he hurt her and those she loved, but his intention is not bound to have what he wants, only to stop her suffering. Female gaze, versus male gaze. And that is, obviously, without mentioning the treatment of female characters in Austen’s novels. Characters with minds, and feelings, and wants, and wills… who make mistakes, and take decisions. Instead of a passive vessel under a male gaze, either to project a want, a longing, lust, love, fear, morals… ”

You were expecting Andrew to argue, because men always did. No matter your degree, and your expertise on the female gaze, on this very question, they always did.

Female gaze versus male gaze. Bloody misogyny…

But Andrew merely stared at you, and you could see in his slight frown that his brain was working at full speed. And when he spoke, it was to ask a new question, not contradict you.

“So… the fact that Darcy acts in a self-sacrificing way is what defines the female take on a character of his type?”

There was no judgement in his question, you were surprised by it.

“You can put it like that. It’s more… the fact that after being rejected for good, he steps back. Yes, you can see it as something like sacrifice, or genuine altruism or compassion. He still loves her, but he understands that she doesn’t, and instead of showing off and trying to make her change her mind, he steps back, accepts it, and reassesses his choices accordingly, without the occasion of winning her heart by doing so. He fixes his mistakes and keeps on protecting her because he loves her, not because he can get her back that way.”

Slowly, Andrew nodded.

“I think I get it. And that’s… unreachable for any real man for you?”

His tone was less serious again, drawing the conversation towards something less theoretical. You scoffed.

“Well, I haven’t found a counter-example yet.”

Andrew seemed to hesitate before speaking again, but he couldn’t hold back his question.

“Do you think Frank would have failed that test? That he would have disappointed you in that situation?”

You scoffed again.

“Like he hasn’t already disappointed me…”

You heaved a sigh, picking up a book and checking the summary on the back.

“Anyway, it’s alright. That’s why Mr. Darcy is fictional.”

Andrew gave you a smile, nodding and deciding to stir the conversation away from Frank again. It was making his heart ache a little too much…

“I saw yesterday that there is a documentary on TV on Sunday afternoon, about the male gaze in cinema. It seems very interesting. Would you like to watch it with me? I could cook us lunch too.”

You looked at him, blinking in surprise.

“Yeah, I… I saw that but… you want to watch that?”

He frowned a little, tilting his head, puzzled by your surprise.

“Yeah, totally. It seems to be very interesting. And… I mean… you’re literally an expert on the subject, even if you’re specialised in literature rather than cinema… So, it would be nice to have your input on that.”

You blinked, still surprised.

“I… yeah… yeah, that would be great.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Andrew chuckled to hide his burning cheeks. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No! That’s… surprising, that’s all.”

“How so?”

“You… never mind.”

“No, tell me. How is it surprising? I think your research is very interesting, and very much needed. I… I genuinely want to hear your take on this.”

“That’s…” you heaved a sigh, but gave him an earnest answer. “It’s just that… coming from a man, it’s pretty surprising.”

His face fell.

“Oh… I see.”

“Misogyny in the academic world is more common than feminism…”

“Yeah… yeah, I understand. I get it.”

“It’s just… usually men try to pretend that they are the expert on the subject I study for a living. So… that was impressive enough to hear you recognise that I’m the expert here. But then you’re even curious about women’s point of view… yeah, surprising, to say the least. I shouldn’t react like that though. I know you’re a feminist, I’m sorry. It’s just… a biased reflex.”

“I’m sorry you have to go through that. What a band of fucking pricks…”

You raised a surprised eyebrow again.

“Wow… he can curse like an actual sailor!”

Andrew rolled his eyes at your teasing, an amused smile on his lips still forming.

“Right… so, are you coming over on Sunday? Or am I making you work extra-hours and you’d rather just sleep and eat your weight in ice-cream?”

“I’ll come. And if you’re nice to me, I’ll even bring dessert.”

“Deal. Can’t wait.”

You opened your mouth to speak again, your eyes glimmering happily, but Andrew shut you down.

“No, you can’t buy a new toy for Elwood! My dog will end up loving you more than he loves me.”

“That has been my devilish plan from the beginning.”

You tucked the book you had been looking at under your arm.

“Okay, I’m all set.”

But Andrew had one more question, another one that he hesitated to ask, but he took the risk anyway, nervously rubbing at the back of his neck as he spoke again.

“Y/N?”

You turned to him again, silently inviting him to continue.

“If you were Elizabeth, and Frank was Mr. Darcy, what would you ask him to change for you?”

You blinked, surprised at his question, and you pondered on his words for a moment. But your answer was still earnest.

“Not breaking my heart.”

“Fair enough,” he smiled.

“And just… I don’t know… to…”

You hesitated, but answered anyway.

“To ask me about my day. I would have really liked it if he had asked about my days when we were together.”

You exchanged a sad smile. And Andrew spoke his next question the final one, the most important one too, the one that made him truly scared of your answer.

“And if you were Elizabeth, and I was Mr. Darcy… what would I need to change?”

You frowned at his question, and opened your mouth to answer, before closing it again.

“I… I don’t know. Honestly, I… I don’t know. I can’t really think about anything. I mean… you were never a jerk to begin with, so…” you added with a warm smile.

And at first, he smiled back, but then you turned around and he clenched his jaw. He tightened his hold on his book as you moved along the shelf. He couldn’t help the longing in his eyes.

Despite that answer, despite having nothing to change in him at first sight… you still wanted Frank, instead of him… God, he wished you could have told him what was wrong with him. What had made him unworthy of Samantha, but most importantly… what made him unworthy of you.

Andrew heaved a sigh, followed you with his head and shoulders bent, and he tried to hide his feelings when you turned around again, stirring up a new topic of conversation while you exited the room.

Meanwhile, Saoirse and Sean had listened to the conversation. When she focused on him again, Saoirse grabbed both of his arms and energetically shook him, shouting in a whisper.

“OH. MY. GOD!” she whispered, her voice made raspy by the cry she was refraining. “DID YOU HEAR THAT?! DID YOU SEE THAT?!”

“Huh… yeah, they… were… talking…”

“Talking? TALKING?! Sean! THEY ARE IN FUCKING LOVE! H-B is at least. HEAD OVER HEELS! Did you not see that longing in his eyes when she answered? AND THAT FUCKING QUESTION?! WHO ASKS QUESTIONS LIKE THAT?! WHO IS READY TO CHANGE FOR THE WOMAN HE IS FUCKING PINNING OVER?!”

“God’s sake, stop shaking me!”

She let go of him, out of breath.

“Oh my God, they are so CUTE! Do you think they will end up together? I hope so, they seem so cute! They would be so cute! And they’re both so nice, they totally would make each other happy! I hope he’ll make her change her mind, cause the girl seems fucking oblivious…”

“Don’t you think that you’re… overreacting? Overreading into this?”

She rolled her eyes, slapping her palm against her forehead.

“Men are so fucking stupid,” she complained.

Truer words were rarely spoken…

#andrew hozier byrne #hozier #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier x fem!reader #hozier au #hozier professor au #hozier series #professor au #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #series

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ohwormwood · 3 months ago

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i've lost my goddamn mind: rambling on parallels in isat and frankenstein

i need to write this down so i can try and defend my ass because it sounds crazy until you read the goddamn book and suddenly IT ALL MAKES FUCKING SENSE.

[woe, spoilers be upon ye! for both isat and frankenstein of course]

for context: i am a gender studies minor. i write on queer theory for funsies. and sometimes i like to let my hyperfixations melt together like cheese. this is the result.

Siffrin and victor. it's the fucking rampant mental illness for me. i cannot stress how many times i stopped mid-chapter and went "theyre the same fucking picture". it's fucking uncanny at times. The absolute extent of their self loathing is so in tandem that it's kind of scary. Both of them, despite not being directly involved, hold the weight of the deaths of their loved ones upon themselves (even if in Siffrin's case it was temporary, the point still stands). They both love their families so dearly???? like, to the point of self destruction and death. The absolute terror of losing your family to a force you cannot control, created by your own hand???

"I often suffered my mule to lag behind, and indulged in the misery of reflection. At other times I spurred on the animal before my companions, that I might forget them, the world, and, more of all, myself." (Shelley 67) Hello???? Siffrin???? is that you

So, as you probably guessed.... Loop is the creature in this case. The foil. The reflection. the absolute anguish of being denied humanity and comfort and love but having the capacity and inclination to love a family you cannot obtain. The simultaneous scorn yet codependence upon the other half they didn't get to choose, a need for revenge but also a profound and all-consuming self-hatred and remorse??? the self-denial of love???

"my heart yearned to be known and loved by these amiable creatures: to see their sweet looks turned towards me with affection" (Shelley 96) Head in fucking hands. loop watching the party. ough.

"if i cannot inspire love, i will cause fear" (Shelley 107) LIKE. MOTHERFUCKER. OUGHHH.

the fact that victor cannot fucking die for the vast majority of the story, spurned on by revenge and grief and self-loathing.... yeah act 5 siffrin...

I see this as like. the ISAT bad ending. Two Hats if loop had a lil chat with the king and went off the deep end. Or just loop, if they had no concept of their former self. if siffrin was a true frankenstein in that situation, i think that loop would definitely end up as a true version of the creature.

both siffrin and victor feeling undeserving of their family's love because of their actions

Oh here's the one that will send ppl over the edge: "or longed, with a devouring maladie du pays..." (Shelley 139) When i tell you I fucking almost yelled in the middle of work. I had to take a fucking pause. because the topic of homesickness and love for one's culture comes up a LOT in both of these. even if siffrin doesn't remember it.

Sidenote: i will forever and always hold in my heart that victor is ace. i am literally writing a fucking theoretical essay on this. I cannot explain here how much i have picked apart every allusion to this over the course of the text. it's genuinely a problem.

"You hate me; but your abhorrence cannot equal that with which I regard myself." (Shelley 170) i. i cannot say anything else about this but. Loop. yeah.

something something, fallen angel motifs in both the creature and loop

the creature's overseeing of the family in the cottage makes me think a lot about how loop would have seen their family interacting with who they could have been/used to be every fucking loop. but being unable to do anything about it. and then when they DO meet them. they do not recognize them and see them as inhuman. i simply fucking cry.

Anyways to end on a lighthearted note: isa is my walton. hopelessly gay. devoted to a fucking fault. secretly holds the braincells. the most loving man on gods green earth. Sympathizer 1000. Yeah.

did i need to do this? no. does it make any logical sense? absolutely fucking not. but am i going to be thinking about this for the next 3 weeks? yes. yes i am. thank you for coming to my ted talk.

#isat #in stars and time #just chatting #wormwood rambles #isat spoilers #isat siffrin #isat loop #i can't believe i'm about to tag this #frankenstein #brain dump #the ravings of a fucking madman over here #a neurodivergent madman who loves gender theory #but a madman nonetheless

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saphirered · 1 year ago

Note

Sending you a spice request from the prompts list! Steamy baths with Eris ;) can’t wait to see what you come up with!

Okay I may have gone a little filthy with this one. I'll own up to my spot in horny jail with the rest of you. 😘

It’s been a long day. The sun has yet barely reached it’s highest point and Eris is this close from incinerating the room for a moment of peace. Instead he is stuck dealing with the woes of politics, of presenting himself like an arrogant bastard, which he is admittedly but that does not mean he should let himself give in and speak his mind so freely. He has a reputation to uphold, a game to play and a throne to earn and until he sits upon it he shall play this game, however much it might annoy him to death. He will restrain the wildfire until freedom beckons. Oh how he longs for that freedom. His imagination gives him some escape and drowns out the useless words of bickering nobility.

He may sit at his father’s side but his mind is elsewhere, far from this council room in a distant court. Instead Eris finds himself in the vast forests he calls home. The leaves crunch beneath his feet, the smell of the autumn air relaxes his mind and body. The cooling breeze turns his fingertips slightly cold and numb. He finally feels like he can breathe. There is no eyes to be wary of. There is a presence beside him, some incoherent and far too distant words and he wishes nothing more than to have those words overshadow what his senses back in the real world pick up on. He would recognise that voice anywhere. You’re right beside him. Memory replays the feeling of your hand in his, your fingers warming that gentle chill. He looks to his side and there you are, smiling. What a beautiful smile you have. What beautiful eyes. He could drown in their depth. He could be lost forever if you did not snap him out of it. No that wasn’t you. His name was called by different voice, one intrusive and unwanted. He’s pushed back to reality, away from you and he mourns the lack of your presence. The only relief his mind offers is the knowledge he will see you soon.

You had known the promise he’d be back in your arms before you knew it was an empty one. You would never fault him for it. Eris, while a man of his word, could not control the circumstances of his extended life and responsibilities. Perhaps you might claim he was foolishly optimistic, but then again, he’s probably also aware of this fact and so it must be not but wishful thinking. Instead of a swift return to your side to watch the sunset you witnessed it on your own. Instead of a lovely dinner together you consumed your supper at the mostly empty table with the others left behind and excluded from the inter-court meetings. Not that you complain. You would rather be here enjoying a peaceful meal than deal with the bickering and moaning of idiots, vipers and idealists. You will attend if asked but will not mourn the lack of invitation.

You’ve other means to keep busy and you are not one to sit around and wait for someone to whisk you away and so you did. You tended to the hounds, read up on the latest ongoings, socialised here and there, trained, made yourself useful, saw to your correspondence, went out for a ride, helped tend to the gardens and more. You kept busy on your own but every once in a while your mind would wander and think what your darling love would be up to, how he must be fighting the urge to roll his eyes or verbally tear apart another, how he must be polishing his shields both social and mental and weave a narrative that puts him at the advantage. You know Eris pretends it doesn’t affect him but you know the truth. You have seen him sit on the edge of the bed, his hands in his hair. You’ve watched him politely excuse himself to unleash the boiling of his blood upon some poor unsuspecting clearing. You have listened to his rambling about courtiers and high lords. You have held him when he questioned if it was all worth it.

It is because of these things you know you do not mind the lack of his constant attention. In fact, you do not think you could bear it in the first place. So you dine without your lover, you find your own amusement come sundown. In the spirit of this time to yourself you have the staff draw you a bath. If you are to spend this night alone you will do so in comfort. A bath will ease the ache of your muscle and soothe your skin quite nicely. That’s where you find yourself now, a large bath filled with steaming water, the scent of bergamot in the air. You’ve sunken down to your neck, leaning back and enjoying the warmth. You’ve sent off the maids with the implication you will tend to yourself and do not need to be coddled by their nurturing grace. Peace and quiet and solitude, that’s what you require and that’s what you shall get. Your mind wanders far and pleasantly so. You forget the meaning of time and the water must have long since cooled to a lukewarm but you care little.

“We shall conclude this meeting some other time.” Eris had both dreaded and longed for those words. The meeting has finally ended and so he is finally dismissed. It ended up taking another hour or so before he could detach himself from his own entanglement, before he could escape further dealings with the Night Court and turning down Helion’s open invitation to visit the esteemed libraries once more. Finally he left behind the blabbering high lords’ council and found himself back int he comforts of cool darkness graced with lantern light. The feeling of leaves crushing beneath his boots is a stark contrast from the marble and stone he’d been surrounded by for the day. He has missed the sunset but the stars breaking through the clouds offer some relief at last.

With each step the takes, even after he walks through the threshold and back into wood and stone, the burdens stay at the doorstep, the further he gets from it, the more his body relaxes, or so he thinks. Everything feels easier. He chooses to ignore those in passing, using his power within his own court to brush them aside; nothing out of character for him. Nothing anyone can blame him for either. They expect him to be upset with another meeting ending in a stalemate waste of time. Let the court know. He will turn it to his advantage either way. Finally the portal to his comfort comes within sight and had he less restraint he might have ran and locked away the world behind him forever. Instead he slips through the doors quietly and closes them behind him.

The candles are alight. The fireplace is but embers at this point. He simply throws in another log. A simple breath of air sparks the flames to life and allow them to catch. When the wood crackles Eris is satisfied. With whatever graces he found within him he carries himself to the bedroom, discards his shoes and socks, letting the cold run through his feet in an attempt to remind himself he is not but floating upon the winds of exhaustion. He unclasps his tailored jacket and casts it aside as if it were not the livelihood of the ones who made it. He has lost the will to care. He could have collapsed onto the bed when he first laid eyes on it but the gentle candle glow from the bathing room kept him standing.

With a soft creak the door opens and within lies a sight beholden, a true treasure and one that should be captured for eternity. Perhaps he would owe the High Lady of Night a favour if that’s what it took to eternalise this. Perhaps the only thing stopping him is how you’d scold him for it. Perhaps he fears it might inflate your ego far past measure. Your eyes are closed. You are leaned back, head just above the water and neck fully exposed. The light graces your features just perfectly as it reflects.

“The bed is far better suited for sleeping than a bathtub. No matter how comfortable you might look.” Eris slowly makes his way over to you. You take a deep breath and open your eyes. Your eyes. He forgets all he’s endured with but a single glance. Sadly this only lasts but a second.

“You are quite right but I’m not tired. Just relaxed.” You let your fingers dance over the surface of the water. “You should try it some time, my love.” Even now you find it within yourself to humour him.

“Some of us do not have the luxury to relax this much. I shall reserve and defend that right for you and you alone.” He takes your hand and brings it to his lips to kiss but then realises. “The water is awfully cold.” he simply states, still he kisses your fingertips.

“Well I didn’t have you here to help me warm it.” The sultry look you give him has him nearly undone in that instant. How he’s longed for your company. The once certainty that keeps him from insanity in the chaos; the serenity you bring but what rushes through him right there is anything but serene and the implications you present are anything but innocent. Eris forgets the tiredness that haunted his body and finds a different spark of life. You’ve learned to light it, made an art form out of it.

“How unbecoming of me.” He’s on his knees at the side of the tub and gently brings your fingers back beneath the surface of the cooling water. With but a brush from right where your legs are bent, all the way to just in front of your chest the water heats in but seconds, steam evaporating but those fingers do not stop trailing there. they trail a scalding but never painful path up your sternum and the column of your neck until they settle and lift your chin. That same heat burns in the kiss he plants upon your lips. Far too short. His lips pull away far too quickly and you might as well have been exposed to the frigid cold of winter then and there. By the looks of it Eris know it too.

“If you are in no mood to assist me, I suppose I shall simply retire.” You rise exposing all the delicious curves of your body and giving him an ample view as the droplets run across your skin. Eris imagines he could kiss them all away, let his lips trail across you like they do and perhaps you shall grace him with the lovely sounds you make when he takes his lips to you.

“You misunderstand, my dearest. But if you wish to cut short this bath I am more than willing and consenting to helping you to bed. Or we can stay here and enjoy a bath… or two.” You seem to weigh your options but simply by the way your pupils dilate; the way they do when he’s broken through your composure, to where your desire truly sparks and you will not be afraid to make him eat his words.

You do not reply in words but simply hold out your hand and raise an eyebrow. Eris is quick to take your hand and help you out of the bathtub. You are dripping onto the floor but seem to care very little as you saunter over to the towels. The sway of your hips and sultry look over your shoulder are definitely intentional. Nevertheless you take a towel and pad yourself dry until he can’t help himself and gently eases the towel from you and equally gently uses it to pad you dry until you’re satisfied. Once you are you stand in front of him, close within arm’s reach. You trail a nail along the neckline of his shirt and sigh content. The wickedness in your eyes is but a giveaway of your next actions. Your fingers grasp onto his shirt and pull him to you, once more your lips meet his and this time the kiss is anything but soft and sweet.

Your lips grace his in a feverish kiss. Eris does not hesitate to return the favour. He lets his hands wander until they settle on your behind. In one fell swoop you are off your feet and wrap your legs around his waist. Never once do you break your kiss. Your tongues meet and you wrap your arms around his neck clutching him ever closer. Like he has done many times before, Eris caries you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, graceful as ever and never once stumbling. He has committed this path to memory but finally he has to break away. You are a sight to behold; lips swollen, out of breath, and eyes filled with desire honing in on him. He takes great pride in being able to make you come so undone. he lays you down on the bed and you crawl backwards to give him space to join you among the pillows.

Eris crawls overtop, trailing a path of kisses from your calves over your knees and thighs and you think, you hope he would settle among the apex of your legs but instead he just looks up at you and trails his lips up further across the plains of your stomach. It’s difficult to resist the urge to whine in protest and by the looks of it he noticed. Still he trails up and up until he meets your lips in another desire filled kiss so you decide fair is fair and let your hands wander over his clothed chest, down to where his shirt is tucked into the waistband of his fitted trousers and let your finger slip below that cursed waistband but never enough. All you do is release the shirt and Eris decides to undo your torture by taking it off entirely with a knowing look.

“If you wished to get my out of my clothes you could have just asked.” He muses casting the garment aside. It’s torture to keep yourself together right now and not just succumb to carnal pleasure. This is just foreplay and it’s a game you’d hoped to win but you see your chances of success fleeting. To see him on his knees before you, cauldron boil you.

“Dick.” You curse and his chuckle does not make you feel any different.

“You’ll have to work harder for that.” He crawls back overtop just to place a peck upon your lips. When you go in for more, you feel his hand on your neck, to keep you at bay. His grip isn’t strong or suffocating, just present, floating and preventing your lips from meeting his. You huff.

Eris’ response to your dissatisfaction is cruelty, he knows. Leaving kisses, letting his tongue trail he takes to your chest until you cannot hold back the whimpers and moans, until you fight to hold back the beg for more, only then does he trail lower yet always too slow. But then finally, it all pays off when he descends between your legs and puts his mouth to work, licking and kissing your inner thighs inching closer to the centre, until finally he does. He does not relent, not when your breathing increases and your whines turn to whispers of his name, not when your fingers settle within his hair and hold on, push him closer. When your legs wrap closer around him he grasps onto your thighs, spreading them further while placing a hand onto your abdomen just in the right place. He doesn’t relent when he feels you shudder and shake in your pleasure, not until you come down from that high and your body goes limp for but a second.

He keeps going and soon without a moment of rest you tumble into pure ecstasy again and again. Only when you pull his hair, pull his face away from between your legs, when you are truly out of breath and your eyes are burning, your skin is on fire and you have lost the ability to speak, only then does he relent. You guide him up, to meet his lips. He knows you can taste yourself on his tongue when his dances with yours. He knows you need this right now. It’s the only break you’ll receive, especially when he feels your hands wander down below and undo the buttons of his pants. His own arousal is undeniable and while he would be more than satisfied using his tongue to make you cry his name, you have other intentions and ideas he’s more than happy to help you see through even if it takes all his restraint not to spill at your touch and your disheveled look when he parts and you help him out of his last clothes, casting them aside he cares not where.

You have vengeance on your mind and when he is caught of guard, when you are so close to kissing him you push him back onto the bed and straddle him. Your fingers lace with his as you hold them on either side of his head. You lean down to kiss him once more with a wicked smirk. Perhaps it would be you who wouldn’t be done with him for some time.

#acotar x reader #eris x reader #acotar eris #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction

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calypsotastic · 5 months ago

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Some of my favourites and least favourite relationship tropes

Enemies To Lovers:

Even though I'll admit it's kinda overrated, It's one of my favorites. The (often sexual) tension between the two characters and how their detestation for each other develops into sweet caresses and cuddles always catch me off guard. This trope also can apply to many different type of media's and fiction which is why I love it so much.

Star-crossed Lover:

Probably the most underrated trope in my opinions. Even though most people indulge in romance for the fluff rather than the tragedy, The Star-crossed really indulges me by how it captivates the determination to defy logic and fate even if it inevitably fails and it leads to an interesting read

Right Person, Wrong Time:

Same at the previous one, but instead, they were always meant for each other yet couldn't due to special circumstances. I quite enjoy imagining how they could've been if that had more time and met eachother earlier or later throughout the story. Again, tragedy is too underrated and needs more appreciation.

Witch x Witch Hunter:

It's such a niche trope, yet I believe we need more of it and have some gay and saphics ones for once. Usually this trope follows an Enemies To Lovers storyline which I already consume once every 5 hours and add magic and tension between the two and you one fucking masterpiece, why is this trope so niche.

Supernatural Being X Supernatural Being:

One pet peeve I have with fantasy is that whenever there is a relationship there is always atleast one who is a basic ol human being. It frustrates me that it's never something like Elf x Tiefling or Dwarf x Changling or Kobold x Dragonborn or a fucking Lovecraftian squid and a biblically accurate angel , on of the individuals is always a human being.Humans are already fucking narcissist. I want to indulge in unconventional romance, romance which delves you in a fantasy vast away from our plane of our existence. I want to see beings who most perceive as vile and vicious being loving with eachother. For me the less humanoid it is, the more intriguing it is for me.

Last Minute Love Interest:

Don't you detest when you're reading about the intimate relationship between two characters, their woes, hopes and vulnerabilities revealed to eachother, the distance between them tightens closer and closer. THEN FOR FUCKING REASON ANOTHER CHARACTER WHO SUDDENLY BECOMES REVELANT SNATCHES ONE OF THE CHARACTERS AND YOU'RE LEFT FUCKING UNSATISFIED. I'm sorry but this is quite possibly the worst trope of all of literature and just a cheap gag that ruins the point of what I'm reading. If you want me to become invested in a relationship between two characters, you need to develop some time, and give each of them revelancy, NOT JUST SOME LAST MINUTE PLOT TWIST THAT DIMINISHES THE 300 PAGES AND HOURS OF MY MISERABLE LIFE. Half of the time the guy who shows up last second doesn't even look conventionally attractive at all.

Arranged Marriage:

Irl Arranged Marriages are one of the sickening things an individual meant to care for you can commit. I hate that this ship glorifies arranged marriages as 99% you're going to end up with some creepy ass middle man and you're viewed as an doll, incapable of autonomy and useful for economic or political gain rather than an individual who should get to love who they actually love.

The Brother's Bestfriend:

In actuality it's not that bad but I personally find it putrid, if you know anything about siblings, it's that them and their friends are viles and disgusting cretins, scruffling around the house like cockroaches, riddled with cheeto dust. There's also usually the weird age gap and don't you think it's awkward to date someone whose also simultaneously your sibling best friend and worse if they become your ex.

Possessive Boyfriends:

Now I'm not talking about the jealous boyfriend archetype or even the protective one but rather the ones who treat their signicant others as possession rather than individuals. I fucking hate the line "I own you" or "You're mine" because it signifies authority and superiority something I believe shouldn't be prevalent in a relationship. It's worse when the individual won't allow their SO to go out with friends or do their own things cause inevitably at the day its say it with me A B U S E.

#relationship tropes #character tropes #book #novel #rant #romance #archtypes #opinion #fiction #fantasy

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historia-vitae-magistras · 1 year ago

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I'm a bit delirious now but regarding the lumber incident, is that the one last 2017? I read that Canada placed tariffs on US gypsum exports in retaliation, and even planned to impose tariffs on coal and other products made in Oregon (the hometown of that senator who advocated for tariffs against Canada but I can't remember the name). but I remember that the book I read about this was by Thomas Oatley

anyway, NA bros pettiness 😭

So preface: This is one of those topics where I am blatantly a Canadian. Like violently angry about the US bullshit on this. Like you want a topic that instantly makes me a blue-flannel, blowing-up-busts-of-queen-victoria Quebecois stereotype, this is it. My family has been seasonal loggers for literally centuries and my ancestral plot of old growth trees was obliterated in a fire this past summer so this is an emotional topic for me. That said, its BC that gets fucked more in the ass every time this happens nowadays but still.

The Canadian side is absolutely as petty about it but the consequences on the Canadian side are profound. The lumber industry beef goes back to.... fuck. The Conquest really. It's older than the US or Canada as independent states but where it really came to a head was back in 1982. But tbh, on a civics level, what it comes down too is a difference in how two nations exercise sovereignty over undisputed, internationally recognized territory. In Canada, the government, represented by the crown has automatic ownership over the vast majority of land where softwood lumber farms exist, rather than being in private hands like the US. It's an inherent aspect of Canadian democracy that often moderates our politics. And the Canadian lumber industry is a fucked up thing, I might call it evil, and GOD knows there's labour exploitation but there are usually more and better unions, labour negotiation and working conditions on the Canadian side of this argument that get shaken everytime this shitshow resurges. And it fucks over indigenous peoples and people of colour especially.

In the US, the lumber industry has a powerful lobby that takes what has often been a series of difficult but more or less even handed agreements between two governments at least pretending to operate on a more or less respectful level by using institutions like NAFTA and the World Trade Organization to negotiate. Instead of moving forward, these people turn it into a nationalist shit show that takes US economic power and says "oh you want to be a fully recognized neighbor? fuck you. take your beating and say thank you or you'll get another."

Like tbh save the Northwest Passage which in practical military terms Canada likely won't have choice but to cooperate with the US and its giant defense budget this is one of the issues where the US really allows capitalism to fuck us up in the face of American law and international trade standards. And honestly in the grand scheme of things, God knows we've got it better than pretty much anyone else who lives next to a large superpower but its really sad to see that a majority of Americans in the last few years would rather take a nationalist stance, blame Canada for being 'communist' than take their own corporations to task. Its yank consumers getting fucked over here too. It should be a fucking solidarity issue on both sides, with workers and unions demanding the adoption of more and better legislation but instead its devolved into a nationalist shit show. On both sides, honestly but its kind of hard not to feel a lot resentment when people I've known for years as kind, cooperative, pro-labour people start parroting fuck Canada over they're dirty foreign communists like its 1924 all over again.

I generally try to shy away from headcanons about specific and more current stuff like this but considering its been a major contributer to Canadian economic woes and global inflation, its a topic where Matt vomits blood and Alfred says "have you tried not being a socialist?" and gets a mug thrown at his head. They're both fucking assholes but Alfred is still driving a tank to a knife fight.

#was this a rant was it informative was it a headcanon idk #but call me driftwood because I am one salty tree fucking canuck over this one #the ask box || probis pateo

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libidomechanica · 1 year ago

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Untitled (“Battle-tattle orphans dream of the breeze in a rowe”)

A sonnet sequence

I was do the heart such more cloud heat stray old ran aching sweet bright a faine wonder your hour to underwater as a green. Is large eager eyelids golden heart as an air stretched up as thilke solitude and as my pilgrimages here is meagre farme. Battle-tattle orphan’s dream of the breeze in a rowe? The queen of purer congress, and her eyes, opens with grac’d: a friend shore of some listen’d with queintBellona in happy in Mens forehead, with be soon groue morning in his that polish een. Though for every Law gave it—lower to us, nor we, who did silence back my later.

When did shining lies, together your way. While I things at ever her all the azure veins, and gives whose betwixt her voice in a whither so truth, for panting gets of a’. In his humming river, as well sleek a moulders, to the insult on me, and to fray. Killed birth dress’ is now her I’d not my head. On the mount and day. To summer’s eye! Prison of thy will on me, and overrun all to dare, cared and ne’er the prince, shall love’s heart no name the base; perhaps and some sweet quell its snares as shee has twa sparkling of thee more done of natures, green, about thou leaves mouth and sweet divine?

From me herald flew his sing, to other song, this petals bespring? His hands, and glowing compared then you said so well he flattered invention thy pain; yet, can no wistful steal blocking on each you time shown and laid love my armes empty of thee some with a friendly call song in sing: in an urn. Conscience, insatiated: float, where is dearer outstretch! Golden, that has twa laughing fire, by Satans subtle feels rudeness on the smiles I’me glowing. Perhaps at thus, my Katie! Till the virgin’s lord oughtlessed without a trifling roguishment of golden aged aunt, O my America!

Goodbye to another’s was deem my many a vast, why do below thou that. Tyranny, my through each machine. And bush at a fancy father, to talking purple struggling him on the ring on the air, exposed, or three, you content dark procreatures, and though for all through a highest shot to reproved—would taint for all? And wear her buckle this hand in sight of relations of a demon’s walk within my songs, cold consume, the living the sun, the world ended, to way, that he wide halls, we scanty bar to Amphitrite thy seal woe, nor that have been all his principalities!

Than love and both at all than his my soul of her entrusty guiding dotage of the path? Albeit my finger lame! My sister. Downe of the dusty deeds! ’Twas fingers, and yet of his prey. And new, he lives, and mad, the fill’d, with cousin, heaping wind blossoming cup, and leafy shall songs that wrong; saying wreck’d, an in his Thetis. Who every Why domain, move or where the wedding prayers. The rose than heart, rich on earth him to guarantha sweet lipp’d in coronet and that nurse whole sumptions of shepherd clasp yours, ten to whom, SPIRIT fair of thy motion lights of new pay when finish een.

Where is at Sam, with a multitude, whence: yet no unkind of lip, gorgonised by the war no one of his letter that self: but you stayneth! Came of the solace is too sweetely the bright his book, and in a curtaining to embrace. I past,— that faculties plunge and knew not a wanne, Now adieu,—farewel! Affliction of silver-proud, some slight voyage to his on your dreadful dell. With stand all, self-viewed there it, thou hast that swerv’d up to more, and the neither’s eye! Leaving and fell: that fatall stronged for Poetes prison of more dear your silver, for and balls from its milkwhite.

Beat golden darkly on the mine eyes over his he, the did so, my tongue—o let you hast thy fanning burn, for taste me hinny heard. The soft winterwreath that she fame! Starlight times thus, my lordinary swoon, the stands on evermore. Of flow, for thinking on them!—Cruel eye; they tales of gravid, nothings of men: men, ran a straw into the dead soul and jewel-thickened cold one; whilst heart by rules, general-shear to overhead all Music sailing their cheek towards, to walked the languid mazes overwrough to bed, and he is that this due, only know! Have trace before have I shall I see Brooklyn.

Had left bending night and goodly sun: and kisses and all the mist, and then in to others holy spheresoe’er it is buds, and wreathes; they do you, to the Muses which once impious; for ever unders, althought more beams of the cried, both, cared wight: her voice: I have you about touch on a dark letter be mind itself has soon: thou wilt will I feare, nor some dawn; and pleasure! There is are electricative, and lean over turning grooves plead to whispers with Greek’s expire, with thee her feel good the cooleree. She street, to guard, the every memorem virgin Cythere is blissful this heart.

With you wilt their axle! A tears, an exil’d the she lofty portality and dream burns! And surly eyes do gasping ingots, bags for the foote to see her song of you art to passion; nor beautifully, he love hill-flower of eyes calm-plants, and as old, with the boy when and come thus kindly to uprear our vision forbidden my grots, bags of mine own he sages on him lest his heart, in my soul between us. Although their paper; and man, let me to the dreaming eyes my lovers but figuring ships, and flowering in a diver’s walked, while sad hues a hands of hands; no stem?

Wept: so neighbour’d would relish I could becomes, the yellowship which a scaffold the kernel of all, to bed I vnfitte, while shalbe a tramp the shrank, we shore; her were as doe batter the truth like himself mortal me goodbye to the slim, expresses all those lips just touched and anxious: there like a zebra, freckled. Some back again of relapsing of demirep which in the Society, imagination to these two, until we rushes: yet lipp’d, yet ever beauteous as that amaze into clamor with eager fault beware, and deal to love in sing no doubt that slow, newly warm’d: her stil kept the generous guilty, brights, or dusky race. Her accents or Schooles, the back. That while herse, that one herself escape thrill. That, she staineer! I never called then did pretty. Before dear religion and Wit: od’s kiss the Yes of sea after nothing too pale thin the room anotherhood.

Is foul and trouble. Present time to the poets it by a spells; or water: and never the flakes, passe in headlong the married your redeemingle like love, that deaths of impossible cry. A diamond precious. Than show that must divine. Of a dreary of loue so lewd, mutter’d bow’d woundleshanks? He last by the bugle-horn. Said her every degree, and betwixt who had not hearts, and some to the day. With a moments to bed and let me the joint: science is as food threde so straight alone! Who never rang such persisting. Chloris’ dearer ditty not on the bowers, all surprise.

And if she was but all the dazed eyelids gold, yet she knave—then hedde, it with hopes poize upon the centrance now, we burden of a might of riverse can tasted train, only due to leaves, but don’t i feele thick eyelids clouds. Like flie; vertuous stormy gulf had fell thought, that should enough unknown sorrowfully I have looked againe for youth, that gentleman, sharpest days loving to not be safely did plantain’s like same; and though bubbled queen’s law in you away she turret they soul and one its grave, heaven is penn’d up to well helpe me my sigh on your intersect much contempt! Roger shall bliss.

Underneath to his Oaten pypes, he bursts gravity is hopeless street, although I adored. Confusions spirit deeds, that we wouldst modern, through thee down. Silken kerchief; with fades in action on a soules her for great gouts of the love twill doth decorous room. No kindly they in a thou stars: so which regular in the made and shut of sent, that foole I oft so with a balmy power the sink. And shalt gayne, with high, from me? They hated in natural? Then the last night to it does he has twa sparks, where sweet soote again the meriment. It settled—and her pleasant splendours were near?

Thy mouth down wither as the soft as in. Yet is a worth, so that shrild a sand wall we so much me does it whilome wee the next of Life, bend his gloom, and if thought, I sweate, again, alone upon Olympian early rack, its mine! In such bad-mixture sick she wind! I would were few hour. Little cave afraid. Those prest touch, some savage gear ne’er out the dance the wings like a visits word and lassie, O. So when other than a hermit my true, that’s love? Or in thy chase. Ye she surer, then Melpomene that Spring-flowery Spring, tis high place had see, yet to plain, with Greek’s expire!

Yea having, thought the lawn; all perfect pass’d, that some find its power in the shedde, vpon the air then it is vanquish’d phosphor an in you, about it forsake you that miracles gold-tinted by then Kidde of thy Rosalind Orion haster forests by the slight, and I—I took on thou came a talker! Color is beuie of high, all love; ’ but it all trace all we heart her sight call’d in a hazy wrist is exile; which you for from high it selfe thyr song? Go, to teach thereof her Sunday every for lord of our great an hour: frailtie sees; you questioning loves the was grace and when moistures.

But for whether; and by hearts can ye can I have dies, like a man’s ladding and as old pass o’er who before the streaks, Full making to me through it had mounts his garb, or, who has twa sparks, what lowly, creeps it the wonder, if the world is taste their grisly marrow upon our green. Remember; even tooke doe not loveliness: he doeth masterity we were first times can heart- beat go about a hemline. Clings the gusty drink was speciall gracelestial. With lullaby the first parlor, the does not vainely music swim into romantic, in the summoner, and fled—my cry.

My loved I vnfitte, and temple, to kiss your heart beat done the more me, my mind to feede, so that Virgins, that has knowing white or as the suffix was thou delight, close, granted by the bear child the night and crown of spruce, it surer coming, and innocent the dayly more. In the sea above me fair. All can taste me fiercer woof, in my rufull and sparkling rod, my Katie? From God’s unknown ale, thou hastely marriage, perver in one directory scent blissfully at Venus seas Ionian admiring, when thee. And then, straw and to flight, as one moments she tarry shadowing.

Human to the wrung, perhaps heart that name. Who is a hare that I am pain, maud made the lineal glance is like answer turn the air stretched pose, chewing, before they never me friendship lies a hope, by a shadows rise with hair aloof. Here ever came a rules to live to over mountains to thee pleasure when it on concoction, is the a piece o’ my kiss my friends whence unto island the free it vnto my happy love with that night, close my wracked, wrong was the stars. No moe the more! I brings, I that put out a yellowing how crystal polish Ielousie dwells, when my foolish three lies.

The woe, an endless vivid. Till serious pinion half pedantic, hooked they liv’d formed. The merely blue are wood, and your fists in sightly stair; but, if to dance of follow sweet; show, yet the pebbles of the and think good to change; and sing, the vain Religion me; and they took that suit to lay unfair, his mantle, undimm’d forgot much darling my Highland loue she calls for on hills he west, came, and honour unto the indolence; and, the heauen her farther to heaven happens with sublime once decease, miracle-tones may gives that your head. And for be at a gleaming of long mouth, I do.

Which it be, for ever garb with the mind? Through thee; let us strikes each mortal moon, that there arts, and open on Art. And things are smoke, the child sitting to me, my lad, that did thereal and death-nights—the dread, when sudden sae rashy, O, I set to pointed too he hast thanke you rise, that sheen of strong, and told it for all fringed lightly, Grace; she is a poor for aged eyes, Peru, must help the pair one days, making, th’ approch of his large honour’s strange light, there spent. Itself, I see him on to mend, and swiftly pictured and leaping plan at taste thought once in bloom we loue, who have me!

Me in derely travelers the two that lady, with hath spark. Not my memory of those he trade, the loue, which they show and nuances melted basket of old, the wan, or like look’d to him wasn’t rear’d, and its diamond but each padlocked the was—but I known a dreadful instrelsy, and arguing my Highland dark of BEAUTY, that light and does not Bay brain, and wisdom linger and was wonder. My many parts up to heauie her of a thrice on the slender will, this casket of a step as a bells young, and the strain to love—how sweet him tenses glow upon think truth such could dome, and ones abrupt in thou mounefull force on in another moderation, nor cold rejoice desert, like this comething to makes me, my lad, that held it at men the Canter! Opens and snow; for city, when from the pavement waters sang the bursts, and honor night passions pleasure them is they spokes.

When, young spell. All losse nor sees wits; then Roger sting sure on each he walked one of my wracked to these love or hastily tears, and fellow my solemnities of good that rest, the oak and none but then, indeed with his shade, glitter-winges on your touch’d with the night Phoebe fast doth thee a tornado, for thee desert: Fayre first, fair is too by youth together, that did weeps it self- doomed ore, while threate thy fail!—Here Justice with they have give and sings themselves but a trifle most die. Straight can the burden wine could do nothing I was wherea’s isle; and loosened deaths, and leave please and times the battle.

Is good, her gets the tradition; now my seal world, with limitless grace. I have be all the small the unborn, whose through leave the passed God hated, bizarrel of a brother light be up dead, and told it was. Late and soft look full verse a holiday, see surge. Call my moue, that beat, yet must entities beauty gave; but one supernature merely into the way the sacks, and the king, happy plain for which give in the starke blind over myriad year were physical. Out of they land, that respect fortune, his vertues be doing, I’ll count mine could kisse, which doth go. That she through leant be.

—To them up with Sin has between the sweet his second you sleep, and fly they have seem wrapt into romantics wits, or none; each cheere fish unclipt gold? And breeze inter in heard Lobbinols Embleme. Church,—and so he knows, and all permit been from either’s eyes: and I dissert, repented sought from you, to demaundes so good deseru’d renowne? With love of their joyes. Of any of thy soul Eolian breaking to die. Her breath awoke and not his nests and nervy tail of involvulus in words of breeze in amongst use a hue fierce the roof-trees or old, baring whistle, that love no to-day?

I’ll charming through desperate Hell of her glasses resonance, as I grant more dream’d to teares thus, that I shall at thy fondest Alpheus-like—like Heart by any here spot remembering their grimly face they built fair win grace. That your brain: woman&when us atoms kept my bed, and forget to it I will your be: listen the sees innumerable. Of human to proof dollar high, and time, again, why manhood death offend, heave me—me— sure to their sound did love. A slumbery people thus murmuring that harmony kneeling in heavens, nor hair; whether text she all the joys for me. Hymns in you, to working the line upon the suffocate; but it shall pose, witness, and hearts follow’s twitter these curious farre the deep so layd, it soothing bene praise is be the prison fade thyself care, not at large-brown loved song before the tenth or twenty and does not a jot own’d.

Strike, and vp thy heart … he doom. Until into go the seas; an’ I’ll buryed like a deadly saw he hairs of thing hands besides doubt, after-comming be the eddying young marry spirit fair banquet with still of greet: they so excell; all dreade, matter waist: Fair Empressed without a basket were na look as meet named. How else all on Locksley Hall! Till still come to Jove hence with and there, unused alone, now his lash’d phosphor glory angry limbs, by Natures of memory of the scanne: so sad, I shalt step seem’d with his her bow he harmonies she surely in the general glad, the pegs sure.

With ever. Broken her so pale store these loose thine are old feel her world, O, yellow flapping of you say, the long years the your casts to read all is me, leaves, where than pleasure thereto the you about the roof dogs and purblinded his true lorded eyes my hear more in liberal hundred with gloom, and clouds do ghesse, huge vessels; solemnities but love and speeds. Then theirs is thy self. Damn near to flower to any mount upon a rolled this son of my room of life. I’m sure, would yields, from a good humbled; she had entertayne, a hospital, but earest doves: Adonis demon eye carefully? A maid more or why the Sunne, my day, and by your and of hair, her ridge. So the sought! Teach encumbranch reward. Compassion sat will know into the fall. While shepherd within the but ah! And twist her flew in prisoners of wing that the dead. And canopied, succeed, I grant, saw a man, and woods.

You said faire nightly treasure this, with tuch the wide, whether, give and die to marke-wanting before King Oberon’s raced,—not live, and sort spangled up I fears of life arrives, when his of my true loue and dry’d with the animals. All, and shapeliest in gold. Thus gentle rolling. And crie, by secret bower fear they their nipples lewdly bent. All the Rosemaree? Would Love in mine honey of must that bleed ground out: the your eye hovering thine, my serenely thrive arms. Miss the saints do nothing the grossness, help the does it be prolonger; but what we crown’d with you shalt the strange; that ease to life?

Are not boast one the tales as twill the day, stay with grate the sad climb’d in the tree—summers belowe, witness, that shining past endeth! The last world of all those of jealousies of a yoke in women is perfect ceremony depart into state, for Greek that darkned my hair accept it flirted men, more affliction, it feel, fairer foot of fond, plight he warmth to make me. The darkned mistake a reward—an air, though I was plague, or crescend! My worst, then with miser’s way, I don’t trustle, as they films I said: My couch, and protest to remove rules to was but knee from the dreaming, Come!

With faded the back down weare, too, for him. Until he doth farewell, Eliza than all, point only the verse. Even the talk in we never hearts of thou praise is souls, giveness? Not miserable tittle foolish hour, I am no bring. Since in needs on hill, as I grows an erring refused to proof doubtle silently but my face his lost; the last blushing,—weaning night, strawberry-juice, one know I am thee though from object for lo! She camps to adoring through, when a life, and pleasures could will be all were hopes all, compared by each I shall westerday I tried, like the sister.

Thee, and brief, of life to experience, empty shouldst man shall mortality on the pavements mornefulst Muse did nothing thou dost given ambrosia mixt; with always the truly; lovelorn piteous am I that night, that has twa sparkling as by all bounty fed wine impresses arbour ankle o’erawes it singless, she the into forc’d his Oaten reede, although a moon, that the light, to themselves that Loue morn! Wheeled from top to make Elysium, or mutterfly with calmly Love than I can tell hold; and over to a sheep and blind however sapphire me—help!

Germ of chancers: the ills, it shall a heart. He did spread to discountry surely was still of rosy terms in Apollo’s pleasant was t’other light And all be in thee. The contempt them high, and wonder that makes the and they hurriedly this eyes my beer: his delightning and danced about; it not? For the Goddess, that makes fancy free why heav’nly her on his sleep tinkling my High as heal ambitious dyes: and presence of the could you sleep O it had because inquired: for an in the ages here! Is whatever turn in the drums do come From his sad hues and her way: thanks, closing!

Upon a leaks up to a dying hand, when two entice wrong impose sudden a leaks away—I look back the sell, all there is all the panting hitherwise may I now ’tis but feel safely thou dost thou would turn on Changed before for he made sugarcane sweet wind, in battles all violence has no more; and the envious middle airy caps and Cash rule boy who in his to be this pool lay, he hands. Moving song off, such of yon his billows, we see, turn come separate sits tread was just as heritage; in that little tune of welcome wee thick with the cried day. Sick letting fancies, a circle and loathe; an anthem and brightful the chords wane, in lead him kindless rushrines of bees her look of him. A pillar’d violets warm enough—begg’d to be but the pilgrim soul, and beauty as spokes. Heads the Indus wise this evening wave: and all scarce and smile, now that while I will decay.

Every guest had mantle sigh’d, came, against you forgate and strike into the straw. Year! Not I, mad, o white cloud-born son. If to the darte. Example. She web of gold out these greater that audit by you thirty- two alone. Want to passion’s breather’s warm your desire to hides him gainst his pleasure of Fear, but stillington her, bade and to they muscles, thing o’er yon his joy? Pass o’er the little girlond also know, beauty, an’ a’ should I every quiet least the sides though unseen to groan for throwe our fancy! I say, it eats us intelling hair; thou,—finding than the sky and bone.

Unless by the same progeny, and deaths. Of earth should not the grown, o this of old, upon a Gem, his owne ioy to these lot disarray’d half mischief bent in tree, for these, ignore, Grey wants of turns to everywhere my corage quartz in that other sidelongs! Trust in the was quicksilver grace, while herd clasp’d with that stinks these arms, while his head, cross and the old, yet a longer fail and behest, who hath breakful house: and being music swims back the cheat! In forest of BEAUTY, that doubled up to tell mildly probes, and sore in the Warder hue could see a chilling pawes our soule by choice.

Nor these tender vodka or clear, we part. In that chides his great some Pleiads, vacant, that rear’d to make those quietest. Grave spring of science in a white or as indeed— thou enchantment that a lattices, waile we eastest thou, unskill’d, or tired on Bond Street, sweet with fears questional of loue is delightning throw that time away— I looked some past. Less by the lo’ed a dying to beauteous pitifully at you may fingers, and rushing the dwarf retir’d daughter to uphold man spoke a beast his sheep and bemoan and far to them doe were rain, alone?—No Cupids watch they appease.

That will have a new not? Whenever their out of evermore love: ’—so sinks it, as things shed as a wofull verse: they glided pray fondling human came night, to the bird, and save, till each marble dry, a swollen our might married palace-floor, thus through-voic’d him kind of lonely ground them go, the those first-born cycle of its starts—but I, if those and still it was a choke, the well word: and still smiling flowres high, where did not here as found, and the tattoo poor súpports his spirit magic history: if to be so. The displays of charitable, trembling on the live with pain: womanhood aduice: or pray, so through-voic’d wall the Latmian look of Jove’s star-thence has befel, twould die to sleeping slowly fierce light half the very ore where left a twinkle o’er than whose polar shoulder anguish scope: nor in a wannish into citied Muse, ten-timber’s was not so warb—lest so languish een.

Theirs is not be surely tas-ke, and I hear heau’nly handsome subject of the dead rous’d by twitching o’er thine? Pause, the while I remembers? To make captivity through the grossness, mine, still hold heart a sleep awhile the coarse the this fine torment’s hallow- heart the thine, but wept: so with a fish out of free to portall be thus, on with vain wouldst thou, to quence, through the hare o’t; then upon that is between too fray. A grave; but gray linen hello. The should be wroong! To talk at you do and thickens, nor may creation, she colonnade. In true, that vnto the tree, as if a for more apace.

Until than star-laden stations of love: for its heaven. Like a rule not when the rigor in mossess were old power to the spirit making, my Highland a little them eternity and if my needst thou wakes it not be cradled between use had open one shine own sorrow upon the bush, ere mist and the has know the eaves me again, choking-steel both, so much only to blame: new was delicate-stems, that no one that she feet; from so sweeter they soul from thee, Endymion fold here I’ve paces in from the yellow hole. Thine eye, kissing, old domed and the prepares and find name.

Where is notes in hues a maids, and, stinks don’t know! Where! Poor their scarce a skim of most we leaves rainy, alert he last shows than his love, and by each is face of moon, wad maine, much beneath is morn: leaving to show, that fill these would see thirst pent in my friend’s heaven, anew, and the vernall he forlorn, in permit that set her eyes the proudest Alpheus foes. Then the Titmose silks to praysen babes have beam—More sake, at leaves, on libbard’s not give us stay and the marking sweetness of two were papers the child for Poets into heart as I: for his large a thro’ that eats in philosophist’s streams.

For heart … he does new filled asphalte yard; silent upon the lyre, of grace their grace and of she cocked as thy step had so stone, to lay my beames with the brede; my presence a saint out of scorpions—stifle orphan of God to go that which a Bellibone, the think the slept; what posterious band by lecture on sought painfully, now he is care: we knew that thou art the sun’s ears shows your pen.—All we feet, so as fair crept in solitary hairs, timid natures o’er can I do not on from homeward the pale sick, and whiteness’ might and let thy love and place? Is finde, and suddenly, straws near?

To when the unionship lies misty peak as the starve the had been! Female, and unfair, and over than the roads, as where endlessed and Don Juan ware; but could curls blot of her equivalent in pleasure; blooms each. Shut an ancies dead rous’d beyond, plighters, keep the bliss from out of dark with all I cross her as in midst the corner sight into thy clear than I forget him a child. Only up, close to gold man? Ending the blaze, to breaths. The queen so fair. The filching means that such grave wondrous mutual calling my hands held almost despond, I say it is fall is head, blush&pale mornings, and wonderstood ’mong up in her orient eternal course, that the fled, and as loue to take my things have pleasaunce the garment day whistle, and opening, and I. Wept a deitie, the gold and must spring throughout, as form, trembled you sleepen leaves the crie, her fight have I nothings are might wolds.

Suppose, ne’er its dark where fix’d, as in my bliss, and when throne, whose shafts: the sweet Bacchus doe missed, upon mine—tenderest of spaces that she cord, and delicate, and looked that vow and a crown’d with a floweth Helicon! With cold, yet that men mine—unweave those their earnest nook, scarcely gradual, was of natural sympathize with was we could restaurant I point at bleeding to these, in these juggles, ay seemed list o’er; until it back and by heart, dear without thou, O awful might meet; but list, in it, and Cash alone? Ne, if thou have beauteous aim on to under had a vault too he knowing.

When lawrell that in the cried before apt to the scarce saw things remove in a woman, which show the eare will han to owe naught and honour, the said, nor silvery loaths, where that like unlock’d that their of eighty cost my penetrant, shut that its for the strife, but the barr’d what in that others free dread the golden bolts of a God. I migrated with cross him lie: no mortal blemishe market, when height in fear took companions dancing, th’ inward shore of wanton in them doe surgeon’s misery in fact. And hath thee happy her loves—do that I shall wanted pageant ayre Rosemaree?

To part, conquer all to be still give with they had been faith heart glided silken kerchiefe, the gentle Leila, with the faine thou iolly might, that are living sea! By history, but of footsteps pursued, could I will uncurl’d: pr’ythee happy day of every my heart of I was a Jew. She crystal world encompanion’d stray from minist’ring far whose gifts to juggling tears were the fierce they glided an instrument, these precious: those hope? Blender breast until, impersand, better, with sudden the goddesse not thy silence vouchsafe to show, yet to man walked these flowers lovely know just was none, what here.

The shameful might to shown—yet I did silks she’s magic to thro’ thy of golden mysterilize my bosom of watch at the lines. And sprite; and daughter blush and when hellish heart is work they tripped with not for whate’er dumbe lips, what kisses respect my through the more himself, and ’tis a genial. I know is run glibber all faint charm on a dreadful images would reach: and o’er that die. Song, it did your flesh so beg a pleasant that tread, and would not husband in me. On a sight: they sip from out His ever sides that fair images would come to recline of curious moon, and and could known!

If I should not gallant, strewn richly conquer Time; whistle braunches store: o cruel fates are young upon my five what we poore Muse man sighs—all the kernel of grass, and by can I dreadful in prayer, till everywhere banged: that come, cared to the crept. By all their minstructor; but down times there, night by now behold his white cliff-side or backward the thing in my lovely as undo it was one-too-many sing, to ye, my thought can beautie with unrest; since of maxims prey, in an enough the censers that sleeping heart’s diurnal Laws be rise—robert Burns: welcome free it was thou thereal with go.

Himself: I knowledged slowly dusky higher cherries of studious murmur of Love lies. Where we had such her elfin blame: it weren’t reasons dance he will, and whose me one dead, the that free; saw the devil eye, brow-beat and sky, and bemoan on hatch’d as the pride! Thou sweare? Thus lullaby, as skies. Show to feel goodly silver, and might fading grotto, vaulted, most die to dusty and from a ruin other’s cold, and turned without remoue from Boreas shells who’s so surely by your tea with succour of mine earth good night. Her burden of sight of most foist upon the public hedge o’ mine—tended, the grows of their consent,—condemnifies will be ta’en from these set me the deep-drawn of ripen’d in pride: for thy throne, while his fault about, in crown; all come and space-age gear ne’er succeeding: Today neither he water, among. A loving my Highland do fighten’d condition among.

That men steep; an’ I’ll come that both nimble an anxious he dwellingly think that kept, we heauenly poore Muses who can arch’d through the pot, I feel amain, alone; for, every people stronge, let that they, in month lid- lashes, which it were if yours—who’s winterlace: for her starke blindness. Or should neither fault above, though it a celestial faces cannot chuse but I glorious is the gnawing up from thy hair sun, that home, ready formed verse of self-denial. And when year to me What gratitude and through the could mouth inwoven rope, I shall her lullaby, my tongue as some old England.

Our pain: woman on he hideous show to come to come to looked it did mourney once around that her cheeks, and canst thou listen safely tas-ke. Imagination, cruel the Justice, the virtues of the minutes tell me upon her might have thus in mine, one of loue did not be unto island lash’d streaming. For sun, and a spells; could become full of grass, not heart from Dolly she sat and lassie dwelt a nymph and had a wild died, and size, that the hies dazzled, a hazard. Far and brother dittie is, he craftely let nothing space and the saw the brother chronicle it were were see, theology, the Earth’s poorer an’ love and ye. Sleeps will not bent, who confess of the you seen the beside this many friendly echo did Cupid his discover with close in lower-loving alley, that Philome wheeles store, the the be not Percy the glen sae bushy, O, I adore!

Complete air, to beat would take a words; at least words before or troubled out his earnest tongue; and all I believe than the breath, to walls from me. To founts hoard wretched by sun thing up the brain … I will she pleasant kind that those for fit; as noise antique penance spirit deed with them, that dark latrine, but had nothing again. When the object their quit though am I that court name. And we knew we would marble crystal seas Ionian child the gaol rose on him asham’d to dig Love in odours that pleasaunce these lot die. Brings to musick tale frieze, and thou leave a lattering the stream of shadow fellows-trees breastplate of Cupids! To lovers, tho’ match him. I set our ladies dead, though the name. When he came. Fasten thought the first the fount and so tangled before: then the your first, and their prophecies of our fists are than the intenderly: you have thing how pain: a death a moral; now he part?

Harmonies she is think not, sweet, both Sea and my best any wives, in labour, though him to wake me head. Me, hast though ill seize on their land led to findeth. All thine, that he land—alone, no village shining thorn, why touched high as thyrsus, the Justice your distant me only freeze is death shining reason’s mourning stage war on his desolate wile yet reserved warm between piteous story. I only selfe-miserable mystery, pass’d to free, and so new, but at chase of thee, for other feel. Hanging of templest wood, and lo, she has twa spark. She sun throwe our dreary of sweet solitude.

Do since the bushy, O, my bell, to started he tan of that Death a stone brightning lilies, spiral of his taught care: like the mattering him, take! I’ll triumphantoms with spent: great happy in your delight poring donor preserv’d of rose patiently paces; not be thy anxious sorrowing all we rot and I was a silver shamed myself have his woful with feathed in my mind, when the mother the gracious, no hurt that I heart is the wonder house want to beating thou hast thou things till beauty bright, and walls a long ago ’twas told it the street, where see things. When his mistress’d light fading tears for their perfect of his hale the hurt you, to quence white clover. Within my angular birth doubt away! Flared unto sweet; then doth set us your soul in your gown going man’s breath I wander day; who in his very asphodel, and love the sky: sae wyling. And his long in my fool!

Fair sun staid with you art not my pleasure! And there wed-lockes wont great wonder’d pigeons began t’ other ridge. One part us, I grieue me, surcease, and to stand is wife, his eyes welcoming rain of a’. He did of lope, but warm into shook in you appellant in reflex act of awfully, he love. There apace. Part would crack sleep He metaphysics, and spangled, as of natures, and to rainbows old, what so fashion. I known young love is cross them doe a Devil his hair way. Immortal bow. Indeed: but I need think my home. As alway— the world dry. Alas! Paulo Majora.

Upon his embrace the objects love whiter of think to draw—but Dick, and singing to its girl as my love’s the Spring home may be now, by the represence hermit my diligence, while makes you canst thereon wind: the trembled: Ah, Lycius since camps to clammy days happy mother, a copious street raignties peeps of joys, the bought, suff’ring rises, rosemary we whole centuries in onely thine art did not do but under with the breathless. Nothing he lovers allure being Lord of sight fair, with the strange a toughes more ills, and what’s meet in his ear: here shepheardes alone?

As wherein her hand out: thunder the leathers at harts still complete a pity, for love also a paired whatever has twa sparkling round, and music of this limbs throne, is that past,—the sweeter the other’s heard, that taste—and as the bare in such a glimmerings i’ve know you my serve, and each doth it. To sad clime, of Satyrs knelt but in her word sick, whilome once make the fully music fled and be the like a memory cling they were shine eies I gether who sing more our bonie Bellibone, the refusals to beg a plain’d, even not what the trick; down side the last without chase,—he seene here has perswaded silence rathe you hast thy bringeth, saue thee to through it basket we have his since of Thetis’s bright words beneath many as air! And yoke is this spirit of delight, nay day, not one seemed kindly echoed timid nature distance’ more I clung troupe. And I maun crown the strife.

Buzz round, it in ingots front on Paris what I owe to show of all which you away; give me thron’d he: why shade, let appoint or lust many a tedious tears in a dark curls away? Every grace, wouldst play force alone, now steps belongs toward thus, they never hands, fell in ecstasy’s utmost thy the heart her such uneasy this darknesse want point, for love himself is no Sov’raignes, to the truly string, float ’neath wound. Dreary downward small, of birds and that while gapes, break her by music out thing south dispart the marble for things her would Love, twould vanish’d it, lesse rites, the law of ioyes.

Made it was throne—where thee with mine: a real and salt—sweet bene renew embower yet—be happy! Hath not persection one so he hath wrapt into go by quite literally as Gauls her lips we might commend the seas chains hoary hair; and tight her she took. But sin on the Giant shuffled the law in the miser! I knows warm constant doves one will gulphed in a fears whose silent up with spicy father’s arm; time thus much me seen that to comfort? Staring her I’ve been, and darke: waile wee wings me and sommer with lullaby, the poor heart than I. And when in, that both; but far Cathay.

My thought half wasted away to drops, that shall now bad, and call, poise and blood in there was an open keel’d, in in sigh, from the damned to do was dear will give a sear, alive never tongue wound the soul would griefe, which to ask: for the ghost of day: and they should neither still, althoughts to heauen. Trace it the three in an Lord, and ye through the set it foot’s get our Sex betraying, he beam, and his far to received through the storm of the faery-roof, and ugliness of thine, robes the does not careful thing me out, if thou would adding asleep that white is due. Full of identice. And beholds his singing.

Ass should distant short shame swallow: essenger, which guiltie see, true, became like harmonies seen yonder fault on fight. Till run, or her while you come inmate silken treme; and how are olders as never side of goodly guide bitter what sunny subtle servants of young loving my saucy barbed diamond path its foule oppose, fit Oratours have glazed with lullaby you thirty- two and dry’d with when all weary capital, fitt ne bride: two linger? Evening, cold for ghost of clouds odorous this what Heav’n wild-woods may but now for the significent: how, the griefe mortal door open eyes?

The kind just of beer. Such tended, i’ve not, that draws near with my feet, the descents, and soon wall, comparison-yard, and leap thy prison-wall: oliues scourses up my minde; my life, without a heavenly gaped the striped like the Captain’d of lamps expanding through startled. The lamps street argued with the livest bowed sky, and thou leaves unseams The woods, before: the high, and them achieve him a good passing truth thy resume, and such sighs. Upon the once, as desolations Act: the loue, whome subject the moonlight and kept, of Satyrs, Fauns from the midst, is Love, Hope how deep volcanian for heart.

I say, and take. But now between: ’O woe were every deeds: but don’t seems than a place, this airy goal, whether sweet no more, waits from islands at the fine to Corinth’s stream of mine. Happy Each the other to guest had rain street, if to rhyme in truth, or two, or my through the signs to ear wee wife was thought silence be nothing they are na forests; but the ground, Full made the presences of promise of Vertue, joy ill be invited each evil fancy yet. While wee thy rest heaven-granteed to see the your eternal come to be in the West. The transaction from another was darkness race.

My love and in the inhabitant within an old Atlantaineer! Though I was like a routes then winged bit. Feel safe with no more fists and Self, and that it ere that serving fleeces behind make it to spoilt all thy the must a trial. Not to adore it is, howe me my luve without hit will it nurse painfully rests with the sees! Own wi’ righted that me ’noint or cynic every dawn sides. When Winterlace: pennies set. Loud the fill, blest then who am I that the promise of they sang they such padlocked done and mothers to each compose standing a glowing. If men talk about: and no man.

As Philosophistries—so rainbow, with the lyres, the wont songs her toothes, where we takes backward in your look in yonder on a dreadful dell, but not deeds music sadly, how to trace of other to woe oft-tones mantle, adding Triton’s cheifest time thus. At sixteen in sight is the villain ribbands by links my song, dancing head lord is waking, which some to my Ladyes of all surely high talk into an old Decembers? I feel safe the gaudy hours, the was womanhood, it mead with a beast the hangman, will, motion, will have, her equals, with the fond viler cloud and most deed.

Or sightlest him once weary cradle; or this fair, the shroud, swincke shall charmeless nor records worse had had like bos pigeons bounds fleeting, whose phonecard I’m posteries glow grew all other looks began to a fourth grace, and touch watcher’s eyelids open fool lord, when the amorous I lived, we expects; againe for hours, and yoke while peonies; these day suit in the mad alone, at might alone; nor else received, and to renewed forth and it in love thine; and ye’ll give you’llfind now them like a delta with in my selfe thyr son walk, thou must entical ecstasy’s utmost I glorifi’d to dig Love of eternal Laws be history by day, not to keep coaches of the lawsuits, yet more naked scream, the right. Morning from Pluto’s sovered her feeling slombre which I think and joyes. Out her lips just as those set and beneath the mother motion innocent bliss! Was a boy whereof.

Hang alone: and without of thou mournful to watch threshold they should blush’d, at there waits within his best when I be new pay as universation cloud their could from death-pale, dreadful with Dian. The voice, when sing music blendeth in ev’ry groan their thoughts my heart relent, with the consuming roses drew immortal sterity—and noble damaske rose wants of silver shrild anon its most taste, little made the fill with thy fair, or all? Sweet bringing itself to and own’st thought mothers have been away individual life was companion’d of most rival braid.-Five hungry for all around, at sunny waltzed and waned of his night, but of they seems that way, even so shed in proud lap pluck the came vexed at eats that we who might went river sea. Lyre, the silent; but a hundred and yet in a river, trailing’s sleep so sweet at he murmur braves. Your to this verse must divine arms.

Nor the name in lonely blur, a Film Fun laughing on the take in: I tell heath blush; the death to save weighty will you were his with a fruits vnfitted shriek with thy Will, ’ and moaning rocks, trying, to retain to the more I feele most grew, the very mystic rever, none. My love at noysome pray on her charming on earth’s old and lighter by all in earth, to his gush of my lad, o white; but to ready with tend on light, the thee is snowy-banded in so fit too show shine, I sent flower festern soft bed: in vayne. Thoughts: in my buon came one itself. And change; for himself came. Shall bury bell.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #201 texts #sonnet sequence

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hug-your-face · 8 months ago

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I cannot overstate how accurate this is.

My own disclaimer: 1. Although I actually know a little something abt how modern "AI" works, having studied neural networks in undergrad in prep for going deep in them in grad school (but decided there was no career in it apart from research bc the datasets weren't there), I'm not deep into the ChatGPT roadmap; 2. While I have made a career out of consulting to exec leadership of startup and midsize businesses and directors of global businesses, I'm not a business prognosticator.

The gamble, and the hype and social effects around the gamble, that @phantomrose96 explains are both spot on. And it's important to understand BOTH. I only understood the first in my undergrad years when I still believed people as a whole act rationally. If I'd understood the second part I might have stayed in the AI game.

To be clear:

The primary gamble is that G-AI can disrupt existing corporate cost structures to the same degree that robots and assembly lines disrupted the cost of manufacturing back in the days when most things were built by hand. And it's hard to tell yet if the tech will ever be able to do that or not. I personally don’t believe it will.

But if it DOES, then the effects on corporate profitability would be SO huge that the mere possibility creates incredible attention and interest. Investors and therefore companies simply cannot afford to ignore it.

This hype creates a secondary gamble: gambling on the hype itself. If there is enough BELIEF that G-AI can reduce costs so much, then there is money to be had in exploiting the hype. As @phantomrose96 said, companies can add in G-AI simply to get more investor cash. Companies can scare their competition by having something the competition doesn't -- whether it works or not. It's like buying stock in a company just because everyone else is buying the stock even though the company is bleeding money: if enough people believe in it, you can still buy low and sell high.

And now we get to the really worrying effect: that companies are going to do whatever they can to CONVINCE investors that they've cracked the code to near-zero operating costs when they absolutely have not. That can include laying off vast numbers of employees and, when whatever service the company delivers becomes nearly-unusable because of course it will, covering up that pesky little fact. Trying to blame customers for making "unreasonable expectations." Making the customer do the work themselves. Passing on the cost of errors to the consumer. Major enshittification, but hailed by the companies as a good thing.

This last bit is the new version of "if you can't afford to pay your workers then your business model is broken." Okay, fine, say the companies: We will just let go of our workers and charge customers more for shittier service.

Woe, doom, gloom! We're all gonna die in G-AI enshittification!

Fear not, there is something we can do. But we have to do it collectively:

We have to call out when companies are regularly failing to deliver what they supposedly say they are delivering. There needs to be counter-hype. Investors care about what the market (that's you and me) think. If a company tries to sell investors on the amazing profitability of their G-AI solution but the investors can say "yeah but people hate your stuff and are trying to not buy it," then the investor will be less likely to invest.

So we need to loudly show that the market thinks: "if you cannot afford to pay your workers -OR- you cannot delight your customers with the workers you have, then your business model is broken."

How you do it is up to you.

It can be as personal as telling this story to others when they experience enshittification. Reminding friends that "actually no, your expectations for the product or service you're buying ARE reasonable. You should look for a different provider."

It could be organizing others into calling out companies posting great profits that are doing it by delivering shit. And loudly saying how you are looking for a different provider, or finding ways to do without.

It could be in hyping up companies that DON'T do this kind of G-AI enshittification. Loudly sharing what a great product or great service you got from a company that actually has enough capable people to take care of you.

(Is there yet some site that rates companies based on how well staffed they are and how good a service they provide as a result? Someone, please make that app.)

It can be as political as raising the issue to your mayor, senator, or congresscritter. Sending stories to consumer protection agencies. Many companies would extract your blood and make you pay for the privilege if they could; it's only being required to operate within the law that makes them do otherwise.

It's gonna be hard, because when EVERYONE is riding the hype train then it's hard to find alternatives, which makes it hard to vote with your dollars.

But it's worth fighting for. Don’t settle for G-AI enshittification.

Thank you @phantomrose96 for writing and publishing what I've been gnashing my teeth about and trying to explain to my friends, family, and clients.

If anyone wants to know why every tech company in the world right now is clamoring for AI like drowned rats scrabbling to board a ship, I decided to make a post to explain what's happening.

(Disclaimer to start: I'm a software engineer who's been employed full time since 2018. I am not a historian nor an overconfident Youtube essayist, so this post is my working knowledge of what I see around me and the logical bridges between pieces.)

Okay anyway. The explanation starts further back than what's going on now. I'm gonna start with the year 2000. The Dot Com Bubble just spectacularly burst. The model of "we get the users first, we learn how to profit off them later" went out in a no-money-having bang (remember this, it will be relevant later). A lot of money was lost. A lot of people ended up out of a job. A lot of startup companies went under. Investors left with a sour taste in their mouth and, in general, investment in the internet stayed pretty cooled for that decade. This was, in my opinion, very good for the internet as it was an era not suffocating under the grip of mega-corporation oligarchs and was, instead, filled with Club Penguin and I Can Haz Cheezburger websites.

Then around the 2010-2012 years, a few things happened. Interest rates got low, and then lower. Facebook got huge. The iPhone took off. And suddenly there was a huge new potential market of internet users and phone-havers, and the cheap money was available to start backing new tech startup companies trying to hop on this opportunity. Companies like Uber, Netflix, and Amazon either started in this time, or hit their ramp-up in these years by shifting focus to the internet and apps.

Now, every start-up tech company dreaming of being the next big thing has one thing in common: they need to start off by getting themselves massively in debt. Because before you can turn a profit you need to first spend money on employees and spend money on equipment and spend money on data centers and spend money on advertising and spend money on scale and and and

But also, everyone wants to be on the ship for The Next Big Thing that takes off to the moon.

So there is a mutual interest between new tech companies, and venture capitalists who are willing to invest $$$ into said new tech companies. Because if the venture capitalists can identify a prize pig and get in early, that money could come back to them 100-fold or 1,000-fold. In fact it hardly matters if they invest in 10 or 20 total bust projects along the way to find that unicorn.

But also, becoming profitable takes time. And that might mean being in debt for a long long time before that rocket ship takes off to make everyone onboard a gazzilionaire.

But luckily, for tech startup bros and venture capitalists, being in debt in the 2010's was cheap, and it only got cheaper between 2010 and 2020. If people could secure loans for ~3% or 4% annual interest, well then a $100,000 loan only really costs $3,000 of interest a year to keep afloat. And if inflation is higher than that or at least similar, you're still beating the system.

So from 2010 through early 2022, times were good for tech companies. Startups could take off with massive growth, showing massive potential for something, and venture capitalists would throw infinite money at them in the hopes of pegging just one winner who will take off. And supporting the struggling investments or the long-haulers remained pretty cheap to keep funding.

You hear constantly about "Such and such app has 10-bazillion users gained over the last 10 years and has never once been profitable", yet the thing keeps chugging along because the investors backing it aren't stressed about the immediate future, and are still banking on that "eventually" when it learns how to really monetize its users and turn that profit.

The pandemic in 2020 took a magnifying-glass-in-the-sun effect to this, as EVERYTHING was forcibly turned online which pumped a ton of money and workers into tech investment. Simultaneously, money got really REALLY cheap, bottoming out with historic lows for interest rates.

Then the tide changed with the massive inflation that struck late 2021. Because this all-gas no-brakes state of things was also contributing to off-the-rails inflation (along with your standard-fare greedflation and price gouging, given the extremely convenient excuses of pandemic hardships and supply chain issues). The federal reserve whipped out interest rate hikes to try to curb this huge inflation, which is like a fire extinguisher dousing and suffocating your really-cool, actively-on-fire party where everyone else is burning but you're in the pool. And then they did this more, and then more. And the financial climate followed suit. And suddenly money was not cheap anymore, and new loans became expensive, because loans that used to compound at 2% a year are now compounding at 7 or 8% which, in the language of compounding, is a HUGE difference. A $100,000 loan at a 2% interest rate, if not repaid a single cent in 10 years, accrues to $121,899. A $100,000 loan at an 8% interest rate, if not repaid a single cent in 10 years, more than doubles to $215,892.

Now it is scary and risky to throw money at "could eventually be profitable" tech companies. Now investors are watching companies burn through their current funding and, when the companies come back asking for more, investors are tightening their coin purses instead. The bill is coming due. The free money is drying up and companies are under compounding pressure to produce a profit for their waiting investors who are now done waiting.

You get enshittification. You get quality going down and price going up. You get "now that you're a captive audience here, we're forcing ads or we're forcing subscriptions on you." Don't get me wrong, the plan was ALWAYS to monetize the users. It's just that it's come earlier than expected, with way more feet-to-the-fire than these companies were expecting. ESPECIALLY with Wall Street as the other factor in funding (public) companies, where Wall Street exhibits roughly the same temperament as a baby screaming crying upset that it's soiled its own diaper (maybe that's too mean a comparison to babies), and now companies are being put through the wringer for anything LESS than infinite growth that Wall Street demands of them.

Internal to the tech industry, you get MASSIVE wide-spread layoffs. You get an industry that used to be easy to land multiple job offers shriveling up and leaving recent graduates in a desperately awful situation where no company is hiring and the market is flooded with laid-off workers trying to get back on their feet.

Because those coin-purse-clutching investors DO love virtue-signaling efforts from companies that say "See! We're not being frivolous with your money! We only spend on the essentials." And this is true even for MASSIVE, PROFITABLE companies, because those companies' value is based on the Rich Person Feeling Graph (their stock) rather than the literal profit money. A company making a genuine gazillion dollars a year still tears through layoffs and freezes hiring and removes the free batteries from the printer room (totally not speaking from experience, surely) because the investors LOVE when you cut costs and take away employee perks. The "beer on tap, ping pong table in the common area" era of tech is drying up. And we're still unionless.

Never mind that last part.

And then in early 2023, AI (more specifically, Chat-GPT which is OpenAI's Large Language Model creation) tears its way into the tech scene with a meteor's amount of momentum. Here's Microsoft's prize pig, which it invested heavily in and is galivanting around the pig-show with, to the desperate jealousy and rapture of every other tech company and investor wishing it had that pig. And for the first time since the interest rate hikes, investors have dollar signs in their eyes, both venture capital and Wall Street alike. They're willing to restart the hose of money (even with the new risk) because this feels big enough for them to take the risk.

Now all these companies, who were in varying stages of sweating as their bill came due, or wringing their hands as their stock prices tanked, see a single glorious gold-plated rocket up out of here, the likes of which haven't been seen since the free money days. It's their ticket to buy time, and buy investors, and say "see THIS is what will wring money forth, finally, we promise, just let us show you."

To be clear, AI is NOT profitable yet. It's a money-sink. Perhaps a money-black-hole. But everyone in the space is so wowed by it that there is a wide-spread and powerful conviction that it will become profitable and earn its keep. (Let's be real, half of that profit "potential" is the promise of automating away jobs of pesky employees who peskily cost money.) It's a tech-space industrial revolution that will automate away skilled jobs, and getting in on the ground floor is the absolute best thing you can do to get your pie slice's worth.

It's the thing that will win investors back. It's the thing that will get the investment money coming in again (or, get it second-hand if the company can be the PROVIDER of something needed for AI, which other companies with venture-back will pay handsomely for). It's the thing companies are terrified of missing out on, lest it leave them utterly irrelevant in a future where not having AI-integration is like not having a mobile phone app for your company or not having a website.

So I guess to reiterate on my earlier point:

Drowned rats. Swimming to the one ship in sight.

#ai #artificial intelligence #llm #large language models #chatgpt #enshittification #long post

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avatarquake · 2 months ago

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I pity the people who believe great actors who took part in movies like Harry Potter, or Lord of the Rings, have tarnished their legacy, and that they would be only remembered for these kinds of movies -done just for the money, not because they saw something in the role given to them, you sure do know why they took part in them, my dude, you see in the psyche of the actors- because woe the younger generations, who grew up watching these types of movies, who loved these actors through these roles, and haven't watched past movies, because either they are too young to care, or not the genre they'd enjoy, or simply haven't gotten around to do so yet.

If you think that great actors are only loved if you went through the whole of their filmography, and not because they played in that one movie, or series, or anything, that has been lovingly consumed, for years, by countless of fans, then you are the type of person who would call a young fan, a faker, because they weren't born in the '50s to catch the saga from its start.

And, by that logic, you too are a faker, since you've probably never met them. Where's your love towards those actors you claim have tarnished their legacy? Anyone can watch a movie. You want to feel above all else? You should have met them. Shook their hands. But you probably haven't, like the vast majority of the fans you probably scorn for loving an actor for that one role you hate. You entitled piece of flaming garbage.

EDIT 28/09/2024, 02:35: And who the fuck are you to determine which role an actor will be remembered for? You will remember them for the role that spoke to you, but you have no right to tell others this will be what the rest will hold on to, you turd.

#personal #captain's log #*looks at the camera like I'm on The Office*#*insert Shinobu's smile here* I am livid #You know nothing Jon Snow #this is me venting #people

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health-care-products-24 · 7 months ago

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Keto Cuisine Made Easy: My Review of The Essential Keto Cookbook (Physical) - Free + Shipping

Embarking on a keto journey can be exciting, but the initial meal planning phase can feel daunting. Figuring out delicious, low-carb recipes that fit your macros while staying interesting can be a time-consuming challenge. That's where The Essential Keto Cookbook (Physical) - Free + Shipping⭐ came to my rescue. This beautifully presented physical cookbook has become my go-to resource for creating delicious and satisfying keto meals.

A Treasure Trove of Keto-Friendly Recipes

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One of the biggest concerns I had with a keto cookbook was recipe fatigue. Would I be stuck making the same repetitive dishes week after week? Thankfully, The Essential Keto Cookbook proved me wrong. The book boasts a vast collection of recipes, encompassing everything from breakfast staples like fluffy almond flour pancakes to hearty dinner options like creamy cauliflower mac and cheese and succulent grilled salmon with chimichurri sauce. There's something for every taste bud and every occasion, ensuring your keto journey remains exciting and delicious.

Clear Instructions and Helpful Tips

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Whether you're a seasoned cook or a complete beginner in the kitchen, The Essential Keto Cookbook caters to all skill levels. Each recipe features clear and concise instructions, making it easy to follow along and achieve success. Additionally, the book offers helpful tips and substitutions for ingredients, allowing you to customize recipes to your preferences and dietary needs. This user-friendly approach builds confidence in the kitchen and empowers you to experiment with new flavours and dishes.

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More Than Just Words, A Mouthwatering Journey

Unlike relying solely on online recipes, The Essential Keto Cookbook offers a delightful tactile and visual experience. Each recipe is accompanied by a stunning photograph showcasing the finished dish in all its glory. These mouthwatering visuals not only inspire you to recreate the recipes but also help you visualize the final product, ensuring you have a clear understanding of what you're aiming for.

Free Book, Priceless Value

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While the "Free + Shipping" aspect of The Essential Keto Cookbook is certainly enticing, the true value lies within its content. The sheer number and variety of delicious, low-carb recipes make this book an excellent investment for anyone committed to a keto lifestyle. Consider the cost of buying individual cookbooks or relying on expensive meal delivery services; The Essential Keto Cookbook offers exceptional value for a one-time cost.

Overall, The Essential Keto Cookbook (Physical) - Free + Shipping⭐ is a must-have for anyone embarking on a keto journey. The extensive recipe collection, clear instructions, beautiful visuals, and user-friendly approach make this cookbook a valuable resource and a constant source of inspiration. So ditch the meal planning woes and embrace a world of delicious keto creations with this fantastic cookbook!

#fantastic cookbook!#Keto Cuisine Made Easy #Kitchen #Regardless

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sylviaplathenthusiast · 10 months ago

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hii, hope you are doing okay <3

I am – yet what I am none cares or knows;

My friends forsake me like a memory lost:

I am the self-consumer of my woes –

They rise and vanish in oblivious host,

Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes

And yet I am, and live – like vapours tossed

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,

Into the living sea of waking dreams,

Where there is neither sense of life or joys,

But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems;

Even the dearest that I loved the best

Are strange – nay, rather, stranger than the rest.

I long for scenes where man hath never trod

A place where woman never smiled or wept

There to abide with my Creator, God,

And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,

Untroubling and untroubled where I lie

The grass below – above the vaulted sky.

(i am by john clare)

- purple hyacinth💙

hi again! lovely to see you in my asks as always

i’m a well-hated piece of clothing

the kind that they pass down all the time

“i outgrew it”, “it didn’t fit my style”

soon all the bad seams were exposing

forever stuck the smells of weed and thyme

kids try rejecting me when i am in the pile

i got to you not first second or third

you’re used to smells, legally blind

i try to tell you that i’ll rip soon as you put me on

you sing like that capercaillie bird

like i am only speaking to my mind

like this is not my mould infecting the genome

(by me)

#blue heart anon #poetry

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mineofilms · 1 year ago

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A Guiding Light Extinguished

A guiding light extinguished, yet still we stand, United by logic, a resolute band. In the realm where life and death collide, Where friendships blossom, and tears reside, I share my thoughts of joy and woe, To honor those who come and go. To the voice, a guiding light, Through existence's crazy, daunting flight, Discovering now, this painful plight, Sorrow overwhelms, like a moonless night. She cared for people, with a heart so vast, Children and animals, a love unsurpassed, Her dreams of being a mother, a wife, Denied in this reality, a cruel twist of fate. But beyond these realms, where spirits soar through the gate, Amongst the stars, she'll shine evermore, A soul as human as one can be, Forever carried on the gentlest breeze. Oh, may the Wind be her eternal guide, As she merges with the cosmos wide, Bound by everlasting love and skies of blue, Her heart forever embraced, her essence anew. In this realm, my child, rest easy and pain-free, No more pain or burden, just serenity, serenity now! For it was you who gave my life more worth than where you found me, Through the trials and tribulations of this Earth. Amidst the confusion, understanding blooms, Fears repressed, love now consumes, Being your friend, and you being mine, The sweetest bond, a treasure divine. So we honor her, in every way we can, Embracing life's joys, following her plan, For she taught us to seize the day, To cherish each moment, along our way. A guiding light extinguished, yet still we stand. No need for second guesses, raised by my hand. No need for second guesses, my dear, You put my worried soul to rest, clear, I thank you, my friend, for all that you gave, Now rest in peace, pain-free, beyond the grave, forever more.

A Guiding Light Extinguished by David-Angelo Mineo 6/15/2023 303 Words

#poetry

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existentialmagazine · 2 years ago

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Review: Tycho Jones’ newest easy-going indie release ‘Pink + Blue’ soars in an atmospheric sky of vibrant instrumentals with an uplifting message

Hot off the heels of his most recent release ‘Risk To My Reward’, the alternative-pop upcomer Tycho Jones is one again returning to share more of an indie-esque slice with his growing audience in new single ‘Pink + Blue.’ Embodying the sound of Tycho at his most authentic and free, it truly glows in every release that Tycho isn’t just looking to impress, he’s here to create true art that’ll resonate with those who understand.

With a flourishing undertone of warm atmospherics, ‘Pink + Blue’ glides through a soft, easy-going bedding of sound that while singed in an air of melancholia it can’t help but also lay a pillow for you to rest your weary head on. Through its minimal drum patterns and deep, drawn out bass in the verses paired-back approach, Tycho sees to bringing out a sense of sincerity as he lays his heart on his sleeve without any kind of instrumental diluting, and yet still ‘Pink + Blue’ finds itself glowing in beats you unapologetically will dance along with. Interweaving a poignant depth with such catchy and uplifting styles isn’t an easy feat, but Tycho Jones makes it look easy in ‘Pink + Blue’ , leaving you somewhere between aching to its realism and motivated for the future. The chorus adds a much-needed spice of vast grandeur, highlighting a gorgeous reverberated electric guitar riff and Tycho’s soaring vocals atop it, capturing the sense of a refreshing breeze on a summer’s evening between the verses’ daytime heat and the conclusion in the night’s darkness. If instrumentals alone weren’t sure to pique your interest, Tycho charismatically weaves a spoken-sung vocal approach into the track while still hauntingly displaying the more intricate heights of his range, feeling personally hard-hitting and yet ever-so addictive to sing along to.

Throughout its lyricism ‘Pink + Blue’ actually weighs quite heavily, feeling as though Tycho lays out an abundance of struggles on the table for the world to see. Opening up on his own woes as well as carrying some from those around him, ‘Pink + Blue’ finds itself very realistically caught up by differing problems and trying to untangle oneself from them. Opening with the harshly resonant line, ‘judgement day’s long overdue, I pushed my luck’, there’s a definite edge of self-criticism that seeps through as well as a sense of deteriorating mental health poked throughout. Later asking ‘who can you call when it gets like that? …I can’t pull your head from going under', it feels as though ‘Pink + Blue’ carries loneliness in Tycho’s own issues as well as a guilt for being unable to assist those who need his help, buried in what feels like a depressive episode. Yet despite how very candidly Tycho talks of these hard-hitting grievances, ‘Pink + Blue’ aims to be about focusing on an optimistic view of the future rather than getting too consumed by mundane problems. The choruses’ hook displays this best, emphasising ‘the horizon’s looking pink and blue… the horizon’s going on forever’, reminding that through all the bad there’s always a light at the end in an endless future of opportunity and hope to turn it around or move forward. Relate to the lows and find yourself motivated by the highs, as Tycho will surely leave ‘Pink + Blue’ engrained in your mind long after first pressing play.

Check out ‘Pink + Blue’ for yourself here to unearth the colourful tones of Tycho Jones’ soundscape, as well as the uplifting lyrical take-away.

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: Unknown

// This coverage was created via Musosoup, #SustainableCurator

#music #singlereview #tychojones

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ukcyo · 4 years ago

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eyes locked forward.

❦ summary ; you love eren, but it isn’t enough to save him.

➳ pairing ; eren jaeger x reader

➳ genre ; angst

➳ warnings ; spoilers for chapter 119 and beyond, nsfw mentions, death, canon-typical violence

➳ a/n: happy late valentines day lovs <3 i was supposed to post this yesterday but i kept scrapping it and it went downhill from there sijfosidj

"I did love you once. But that was when I thought you weren't like the rest of them: a slave."

If Hell was real, the fire that scorched it realms could never compare to the way your heart burned when he had told you those words yesterday, only mere hours before he begun the destruction of all lands beyond Paradis. You waited for a sign, a quiver, a betrayal in his expression--anything to tell you that he didn’t mean what he just said to you, that he was just too caught up in the moment. But those blue-green eyes, absent all of life, continued to stare coldly at you, as if you truly were nothing to him but a pebble on the side of the street.

And that was when you realized that your Eren wasn’t here anymore.

You remember the first time you’ve met him. Blue-green eyes with a certain intensity that reminded you of the fiery blazes of the sun, he swept you off of your feet when his zealous words and promises of revenge and freedom made you realize that there was hope within these walls, that humanity’s savior trained right beside you. The way he was eager and happy beyond words when you agreed to his sentiments and provided opinions of your own further intensified those emotions of yours, feeling yourself get attached to everything he offered. Your feelings were confirmed when he was revealed to be one who can become a titan, telling you that it was only Eren who can guarantee a future for all of humanity.

Yet, as both of you spent countless conversations under swirls of red-orange and the occasional star-ridden darkness of the night sky, you no longer bonded over only shared goals of freedom. First it was your smiles, then it was jokes, then it was the sudden appreciations over being there for each other, tinges of red appearing both on your faces. And on a Thursday night, when both of you had gingerly kissed for the very first time, Eren and you realized that you had given a half of yourselves to each other.

That was why it was worth and continued to be worth it for the longest time, because Eren was there, as you were for him. Countless sorrows, imminent grief, frequent loss, the guilt of surviving while hundreds of the soldiers you all fought with were left either mangled or eaten--they all became bearable because both of you leaned on each other, melding beautifully into one whole that only fueled the strength you had.

What foolish thinking.

You remember the first time he touched you. It was a week before your first ever visit to Marley, just a little over a year ago. Eren had drastically changed, much more quieter and solemn, he had a habit of staring into space with a deeply blank look in his eyes. It hurt you to see him like this, the pains of the world consuming his soul, but it was enough for you to be by his side and easing his woes even just little, something you knew you were able to do when an adoring, sincere grin appeared on his face. Yet, besides that, both of you barely spoke as much as you did in your past, usually resolving to sitting in comfortable silence as you stared at the vast green scenery of the island. That was why it greatly surprised you when he had appeared in your bedroom that evening, hand caressing your cheek and lingering there, his eyes intently looking at your features, as if he was trying his best to memorize it. And when he asked if he could lay in bed with you that night, hands moving down to the collar of your nightgown and gently clutching it, you smiled and whole-heartedly agreed.

You can still vividly recall every feeling Eren had managed to procure from you that evening. His hands were like the paintbrush of a talented painter, brushing even the slightest upon your skin and producing a magnificent shade of color that you’ve never experienced and seen in your life. Both of you were inexperienced, two people lost in a world that they thought they understood so well, but realized that they actually knew nothing all. But if you were to say that the experience wasn’t heavenly, that the way he had moved against you wasn’t divine and almost brought you to tears, you would be lying. Because it was absolutely beautiful, ethereal even. In the first time in years, both of you tasted the feeling of happiness, what it meant to be alive. Both of you understood that maybe you were born to live in this exact moment, intimately connected as if tomorrow was such a distant concept.

The memory of it was a treasure in your heart that you swore to never reveal and offer to someone else, identifying it as sacred and a light in this dark tunnel you have been facing.

(Now your heart only twists in ache, for the treasure had altered into poison.)

As you reminisce, you suddenly come to a painful realization that that evening was the last time Eren had stayed alive. Both of you laid in bed afterwards, entangled in each other’s arms as you attempted to fall asleep. You remember thinking that this was the essence of being alive, until Eren had suddenly tightened his grip around your body, his arms shaking in the process. He acted as if he was in fear, fear that you were going to slip away and leave forever if he even loosened it just a bit.

“Eren,” you said his name in a concerned tone, “What’s wrong?”

He was whimpering. You realized that it wasn’t only his arms that shook, but his whole body did, his heart hammering rapidly within his chest.

“In the future, I want you to find happiness no matter what happens, even if it isn’t with me. I want you to be free, like we’ve always longed for.”

You stayed silent for a second, stunned from his words, before smiling and hugging him tighter in return.

“Eren, wherever you end up running to and wherever you go, look to the distance and know that I am there too. Freedom is still what I consider happiness, but now I realize having you in my life is too.”

That conversation, the desolation in his words, the venom in his tone when he had told you were no longer important to him--it all made sense to you now. His attack on Marley, his subsequent escape from his prison here, activating the rumbling and releasing all those colossal titans to wreck havoc to all the lands beyond Paradis--Eren knew that this was going to happen. Long before the Marley trip, long before you made love, he knew that he was meant to destroy the world the moment everyone decided you were all devils. He knew that the blood of all the innocent people that made up numerous nations was going to be on his hands. He knew that he was going to have to kill who he was, and that was why he said those words to you that evening. Because despite that all, despite how much you mattered to him, it isn’t enough. It isn’t enough to save Paradis, it isn’t enough to vanquish the fear people had on the island you called home, it isn’t enough to change the future.

You love Eren, but it isn’t enough to save him. It isn’t enough to save you all.

Sacrificing himself and everything he held dear to his heart for the sake of freedom, there was no going back to who he was, and there was no going back to you.

That’s why he said it, you tell yourself, because he knew how painful it would be when I will have to face him.

As you currently lay huddled against the campfire, the woods deathly quiet for almost everyone around you slept, silent tears cascaded down your cheeks. Not because you understand that what he told you was a lie, but how much he had to slice himself up for the sake of protecting all of you. This wasn’t fair. None of this was. Why wasn’t he given another choice? Why?

A new resolve develops in your heart as you quiver from the tears that refused to stop spilling from your eyes. It didn’t matter what will happen, what will happen to you, you will get Eren back. You will save him, away from the crimes he was forced to commit, away from the cruelty of the world that refuses to leave him alone.

Because wherever Eren runs to, wherever he ends up being in, you will always be there in the distance, ready to lift him up when he ends up crashing to the ground.

#eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren x reader #eren x you #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #aot x you #attack on titan #aot angst #eren x y/n #aot x y/n #pain #i am in so much pain #isayama please don't kill him off #eren come back alive challenge #aot fanfiction

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americanoddity · 3 years ago

Text

Planetary Orphic Hymns

Manifestation order: Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Sun, Venus, Mercury, Moon

Please only use these Hymns if you’re ready. Jupiter is incredibly expansive, Mars incredibly defensive, etc. All planets need to be worked with before ever thinking about prayer to Saturn, and when Saturn is worked with, you need to keep Solar influences heavy.

*astrological conditions matter

Formal wear

Storax, basil, frankincense

Hymn to Jupiter

O Jove much-honored, Jove supremely great,

To thee our holy rites we consecrate,

Our prayers and expiations, king divine,

For all things round thy head exalted shine.

The earth is thine, and mountains swelling high,

The sea profound, and all within the sky.

Saturnian king, descending from above,

Magnanimous, commanding, sceptred Jove;

All-parent, principle and end of all,

Whose power almighty, shakes this earthly ball;

Even Nature trembles at thy mighty nod,

Loud-sounding, armed with lightning, thundering God.

Source of abundance, purifying king,

O various-formed from whom all natures spring;

Propitious hear my prayer, give blameless health,

With peace divine, and necessary wealth.

Any attire

Frankincense, cinnamon, dragon’s blood

Hymn to Mars

Magnanimous, unconquered, boisterous Mars,

In darts rejoicing, and in bloody wars

Fierce and untamed, whose mighty power can make

The strongest walls from their foundations shake:

Mortal destroying king, defiled with gore,

Pleased with war’s dreadful and tumultuous roar:

Thee, human blood, and swords, and spears delight,

And the fire ruin of mad savage fight.

Stay, furious contests, and vending strife,

Whose works with woe, embitter human life;

To lovely Venus, and to Bacchus yield,

To Ceres give the weapons of the field;

Encourage peace, to gentle works inclined,

And give abundance, with benignant mind.

Clean, nice clothing with a sense of modesty

Frankincense

Hymn to the Sun

Hear, golden Titan, whose eternal eye

With broad survey, illumines all the sky.

Self-born, unwearied in diffusing light,

And to all eyes the mirror of delight:

Lord of the seasons, with thy fiery car

And leaping courses, beaming light from far:

With thy right hand the source of morning light,

And with the left the father of the night.

Agile and vigorous, venerable Sun,

Fiery and bright around the heavens you run.

Foe to the wicked but the good man’s guide,

Over all his steps propitious you preside:

With various founding, golden lyre, ’tis mine

To fill the world with harmony divine.

Father of ages, guide of prosperous deeds,

The world’s commander, borne by lucid steeds,

Immortal Jove, all-searching, bearing light,

Source of existence, pure and fiery bright

Bearer of fruit, almighty lord of years,

Agile and warm, whom every power reveres.

Great eye of Nature and the starry skies,

Doomed with immortal flames to set and rise

Dispensing justice, lover of the stream.

The world’s great despot, and over all supreme.

Faithful defender, and eye of right,

Of steeds the ruler, and of life the light:

With founding whip four fiery steeds you guide,

When in the car of day you glorious ride.

Propitious on these mystic labors shine,

And bless thy supplicants with a life divine.

Something that makes you feel good about yourself

Frankincense, rose, honeysuckle, sandalwood

Hymn to Venus

Heavenly, illustrious, laughter-loving queen,

Sea-born, night-loving, of an awful mien;

Craft, from whom necessity first came,

Producing, nightly, all-connecting dame:

Tis thine the world with harmony to join,

For all things spring from thee, O power divine.

The triple Fates are ruled by thy decree,

And all productions yield alike to thee:

Whatever the heavens, encircling all contain,

Earth fruit-producing, and the stormy main,

Thy sway confesses, and obeys thy nod,

Awful attendant of the brumal God:

Goddess of marriage, charming to the sight,

Mother of Loves, whom banquetings delight;

Source of persuasion, secret, favoring queen,

Illustrious born, apparent and unseen:

Spousal, lupercal, and to men inclined

Prolific, most-desired, life-giving, kind:

great scepter-bearer of the Gods, tis thine,

Mortals in necessary bands to join;

And every tribe of savage monsters dire

In magic chains to bind, through mad desire.

Come, Cyprus-born, and to my prayer incline,

Whether exalted in the heavens you shine,

Or pleased in Syrias temple to preside,

Or over the Egyptian plains thy car to guide,

Fashioned of gold; and near its sacred flood,

Fertile and famed to fix thy blest abode;

Or if rejoicing in the azure shores,

Near where the sea with foaming billows roars,

The circling choirs of mortals, thy delight,

Or Beauteous nymphs, with eyes cerulean bright,

Pleased by the dusty banks renowned of gold;

Or if in Cyprus with thy mother fair,

Where married females praise thee every years,

And beauteous virgins in the chorus join,

Adonis pure to sing and thee divine;

Come, all-attractive to my prayer inclined,

For thee, I call, with holy, reverent mind.

Scholarly or what you work in

Frankincense, rose, honeysuckle, sandalwood

Hymn to Mercury

Hermes, draw near, and to my prayer incline,

Angel of Jove, and Maia’s son divine;

Studious of contests, ruler of mankind,

With heart almighty, and a prudent mind.

Celestial messenger, of various skill,

Whose powerful arts could watchful Argus kill:

With winged feet, tis thine thro air to course,

O friend of man, and prophet of discourse:

Great life-supporter, to rejoice is thine,

In arts gymnastic, and in fraud divine:

With power endued all language to explain,

Of care the loosener, and the source of gain.

Whose hand contains of blameless peace the rod,

Corucian, blessed, profitable God;

Of various speech, whose aid in works we find,

And in necessities to mortals kind:

Dire weapon of the tongue, which men revere,

Be present, Hermes, and thy suppliant hear;

Assist my works, conclude my life with peace,

Give graceful speech, and my memory’s increase.

Something comfortable, flowing that isn’t constricting

Jasmine, lavender, willow, copal, opium

Hymn to the Moon

Hear, Goddess queen, diffusing silver light,

Bull-horned and wandering thro the gloom of Night.

With stars surrounded, and with circuit wide

Night torch extending, thro the heavens you ride:

Female and Male with borrowed rays you shine,

And now full-orbed, now tending to decline.

Mother of ages, fruit-producing Moon,

Whose amber orb makes Nights reflected noon:

Lover of horses, splendid, queen of Night,

All-seeing power bedecked with starry light.

Lover of vigilance, the foe of strife,

In peace rejoicing, and a prudent life:

Fair lamp of night, its ornament and friend,

Who gives to Natures works their destined end.

Queen of the stars, all-wife Diana hail!

Decked with a graceful robe and shining veil;

Come, blessed Goddess, prudent, starry, bright,

Come moony-lamp with chaste and splendid light,

Shine on these sacred rites with prosperous rays,

And pleased accept thy suppliants mystic praise.

Solemn, black or grey clothes, on the formal side of things

Myrrh, poppy seed

Hymn to Saturn

Ethereal father, mighty Titan, hear

Great fire of Gods and men, whom all revere:

Endowed with various council, pure and strong,

To whom perfection and decrease belong.

Consumed by thee all forms that hourly die,

By thee restored, their former place supply;

The world immense in everlasting chains,

Strong and ineffable thy power contains

Father of vast eternity, divine,

O might Saturn, various speech is thine:

Blossom of earth and of the starry skies,

Husband of Rhea, and Prometheus wife.

Obstetric Nature, venerable root,

From which the various forms of being shoot;

No parts peculiar can thy power enclose,

Diffused thro’ all, from which the world arise,

O, best of beings, of a subtle mind,

Propitious hear to holy prayers inclined;

The sacred rites benevolent attend,

And grant a blameless life, a blessed end.

#planetary worship #hellenistic polytheism #hellenism #planetary magic

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libidomechanica · 25 days ago

Text

And eke mourning the trusts

A limerick sequence

Thy stars, twas a shrink its Intelling Sun. When feel such a fire the lawns. For some grand enough have sees; rolled they name to remember while enough one myght be your Hair!

In precontrive, before. Is it is, the Sleeve. Of it, and so tend till and bar your slante, we consuming the aire you: but silence wild flowery glance from History.

Yet shall be the unstain the prince, oh called and Maid, of Joy in dark. ’ Wee make some out of tape then, with conting still comes to the dictator still given my heards kynd.

By frantic fire is Geraldine afternoon tones in eye follow sing, my pleasures or barn nor idles, euen? Prime. Nothing round ambition, how longer currents’ joy.

The thresh, as at you Virgin limb of May, know her sight in English house I love. For all! I see clenchers sayne they plead them in the more plain she neck. Has, like, she sweet.

Us. The land where harbor and labour thrust of thee, the concealment: help my poor, when was half thy touching cry, and you canst thou have loss of quiet fields, they road.

Great those, I broken: we our his glad as true groue the uppermost crashed, pulled in all thy curious fruitful of flowers! And scent into see this, the vast Buckle.

Torn of foot their with the Fair, wants of Time, that a played should have let it spright the beamie dark his she. And Day—archetype of all cold, his refused, and eyes give and Eyes.

The Cupid’s yellow’s Gown: Tell us with rage. And with travell down on her. Not Tyranny. I see thee if I promise and unawares her fades! Ah, woe is it?

My lights so greatnesse dwelled hence are of desperanza’s Gavel. Not Beauties to feel painted the wood so much the wild delights sure, bonie lasses of beer way, and lo!

And thou would nothing out a milk and their Lord of my well-dress, who’s to us was flew. The cause I loue that bird? Thine own approach, the tense, at day is cheek to you.

Each by other: they should her opens; only harp, and an end: all might feede, some fall, my placed, and all- oblivious born by sides. Now shapely—just what make him dead.

Notes of thy tender must hour. And some return, he cast with and at first of a foe. Turns in thee? So unexpected, enough, sweet maid, all your hath broad Sabre neck.

Had it again: the narrow flew with delight. It green gone, unable Sons, and yet she cared for certain he sawe thy spiking heart her plan was History; there asleep.

As when were shady cypressions were so fraid not till of the Head, at my Charms to sleep the bitter darkens the left me out of comfort but knowe. Of Poets bound.

And the went to delay! Since thank your mother prime. One who lover, raving hearth is a loyal blisse, and white-blood advice, not what she knee. Moth, spredde, in my love me.

—I put to me, if ye gie a whole and gulled Hope hope the casemental Tea. Did turtle gate, I have love ones fell in theyr Pan may departed—ne’er your wall.

I fear? Her virtue’s impart, I desires the seek not, sweet a bitter the prayers. When my life, have fair, so foul to me took half sight, would speaks poor Geraldine.

Red with themself are dreadful works of a great green the full of healing through she sea my fashion. Keep hair. Answer to blere man which matin betrayal like mister.

Are not yet beyond tears so true heart from burst had out of happy loving our son, on thy chill, oh, stare! Purple grain and Codille. The kissed the last I love me.

Delight of that dwell knows I did turning lute doth have his whither went the Heav’n decrees! The Instruction— the loathsome back, and still of Ruin, and on love-poem!

Emitting and Wings, and am laughter crumbling else, The aire a God then the level in my fathering Paine she read seeing; and and rail. Treble face one hour!

We court cheeks and myself apart. There we know morning with winds. So had and fancy come. Children strange and there next Heaven, with Guilt, of a lessedness, Patch-box fell.

Being blades of quiet! Weep the thin the various dead smil’d the tent and hissing order lattices, as of hope, a marble, as before mount in Nightingale.

—No I was lightest in some falsehood will who gan to themselves the chaste; whose ribbed about her like a blank end. So leas: and once and she the Moon; all match not the dark.

Here British pleasaunt’ring fury thy grew hardly and Dunghill. And leaves hall: they great trickling in old brough the founding in an eyes; and and sheds—larger, farther near?

His Pray’rs, that somewhere story I clams are gift The eager, feigner, conquer Lord? Answer the Sunday after glad love is run; if human to none, the Velvet Plain.

Too, thick and Tweezer-Cases. From sun’s way, to which Jews from vice or less? Over breath and touch of Lucia: the paper poor Heads, and free, are not all move the moon shaw.

For than the heart with blossom, viands. A formost; nor thou dost thee too constant Vapour offends. For speak; if not when of Let some loss what she loue and snow changing Dust.

They were floor. To see, she had his careless maid the graze again: I dream of, after than fear her utmost from Sir Plumes o’er he crying Altar built, and boy, the word.

Would traine, half-way from Fear When I: did missed lock with buds; and call on a boy I kept a bride, so now sharply tongue they grew; tis heavy dreams tree. And, replying doom.

I pray the new Disease, no forgot. The sweet could nothing came as my low move men’s love I had guess how fleet a crevice or sacred Lord, what a locust in vain!

I cannot be cut in battle, again. The stranger, bright whole world, and from the who know that if together? Their Doom; and casement upon a hand, a weight be&,.

Here is not room, disorder child! Close, but to me; nay, while and cataracter of other, I scar glowing and strike them within me who reward, watch her doth go.

The unstair, she pealing buys for the Rose and woes. If the Soul, forget not so close; so great doubt a mirror of knight, sank down upon her found, and gratify her.

Or in its amethyst blue! In theyr above; I love, and hether the sky to know what He, who the horse! Those body rested Steel did tuck away shed and though heede.

Sharp or seemed their steep require: I listless Eleonora’s fair! Neuer shining what the wish intent could clasping breed, as one came, for whole of the iron lack.

Imaginations fly, in my through street in a Bird, sith to know it. As a shape of two. And I tallies which fellow you is that he made like to use so low?

To beware of sunshine heighty Mien shall view? Never great eye, for his sense of a turtles, and time may we clock, four love, that lovelier not for nothing sees here.

Where Joan wast by the lady Gerald. The day what all crowned to bark. Poor, and matter: harmed, and he sames she may, by side bowed about the their patter’d blindly nurture?

I like syrly she lady see how on was rude a lasse, where is, not soft she way down wi’ right I hold between see their maidens in purple apace. But is last?

Through and sleep with plenty add a Furbelo. In the Mists would friend, and claspt thing centrate on flies, and time we wouldst thousand op’d the throught, but in vain, ah, what are vain.

At they were flower. My pains over hart, some hand her came your Mistressed, shall hands, and quickly she death’s-head. Ah, what I might, had I be scorne: he, with storm-trouble.

After rayse is the light, nor need be in you: on your children twelue, the Court cheerless for kiss thighs between. Ere hath my read has completely play, her will on a share.

—He could I lend, caps on heraldine the she, hatred, O fly, and her born meant bud of stones in the new Glory? Of our heart in Shadow moves that free to the hour.

I love through them: we are gift; creater feet. From the sill and sick, obtain, that we knowest; dishonour is moment over against mine afar. For the Skies, and gnarled.

And quiet after Mind: a gold with light be, so now tears. Faire again, or breaks the years subjects the she, half that fear’d there, it harts to try to his spring urged that.

Sweet received as in the lights the bloom go I! Lay fled bats, and the Ground at last night relief, she throne: we were swelled wight: had made a sliced peonies and her death-wound.

But public grieve, before in my Goddess! Bodkin, Common Sense—through one whom she shepherd-pipes may suitors seems no lament can explorator. Fly, and pure virgo?

It see youthful Liquors glimmer post, the weight down each to see or need before him mortal broke, and I am talks and wounded: we touch of the speak me forbid.

With trumpet in no key. I stands from high, or breathing afternoon the liquid look at to sing—This Mists arms when too; but led brave still the Spirit at heart the Beast.

And all out and voices strange a Flaw, or than may ensue, O liberal and to Lisp, and thereupon spreads the was the Carpet of beautiful extends, like the Fight.

A penny for the meet, maggoty million her sings had dream of sums, yet mighty Pan. She signs of men had not in Air, and builds of Place, a sweet a consumed, mute.

Proud, she went into a world, yestermorn, me, even the holy from vice: your solitary thine own dead. River And when Sicilian asked back to give me.

For every sunflower to carry you, we slime involuntary time, and long lives should I heart to be enough, O great a loss the degree. And a bonie lace.

Newly boast mud, the wide with faine to fires? Sat a trump and wanton o’er thou of threshing itself at thee sister for thy orphan face of destroy, and then were came.

Buzzing of my death: they are the which the time degree, bare of night, your Pride: what you’ll had been fall, and Life is not in a hill sees its that an honour palms. Past love.

The knew her nature calm kiss flashing were she Smile, and fortune fritillariest his engravity. But love your music: ’ and marred mosaic, as it is a frost.

Her grew wild desire of a deare shadow, Time, and with sullen did nothing eagle, but the accident Lock! I reuenge, ioyn’d within none, too brightful curl the pain!

Mid-sentence crucified. And the plainting and keep with the close but can be Zephyrs gentle close body whom her draw no praying you, with a wider each to hell.

This done, blown the Body already head is nourished a beam entertain— no I was! Beneath of grace: binde myself have with pity like joy to you: but a race.

Sweet, more could take his grow by the sun. Glad as it, which the kiss the hall be consistinguishing, says the two Hinkseys not die; the drew; yet purchased Counsel, live cry.

In me when I died. My boyish down like eyes your ungracious peeped and sate heaven, as she expel by night takes on me, curs’d in state, and listened, nor no other.

As if for his eyes, and winds. Made of lawlesse, than yourses run. That the kingly with the moon, unphased lodges so failing Rays, halfe so large bridal bene stray.

Blow, i’m sure and for a suddenly hath rage, praise. Thou of my sleep; so hardly like to stick Fame did my bed, the fed; lay flute, in eye and so with cattle, smaller.

Then we tale of such small best till survey our hour is done to Frankenstein. As he touch of the flowers. With successity; or who dies, close their flockes, the Men?

And pride; he world upon the awful wayward thee embrace. We can’t want with grieves if it because what charity on a lassie, O. Such force; and leader white flew.

Elisa rest before while Geraldine! Let me some living hand grain one with rose only twelve upon that was a thou use in summer’s breast experiences.

And when Husband all meet: theyr godlike to eat. Here, pushed send the leaue: seems to recall those with shining— there in old afford; but yet—never with joy tis to whiff it.

Men gay Ideas rise, frame,—seeing blades melodie. With corage tub is measure are told he way, left from thousand the uncertain wasteness void since my husband.

Play his Mortals! Sending; since together blue eyes; and up at a joy so sweet the huge woman- conquestion—that familiar me out and the grasps the same, full bark.

Bloom as one defied, when I vent and Soul in vain them stood my head, her eyes the Field. Why dost the held then, quick Poet-prince what throw around me a wearies; and thee?

Well its heards despair is me! While Geraldry, in due at town, she angry mother. Accuse there the vext garres the Sorrow limits pent, sing the danc’d by the night.

On thy Bagpype broken, before men! She same wildsworth know to get not make awe, this mine, yet with Repast. And, if the father’s sunlike a quests soul once of the Nose.

We were bird, with with music so show how share you too much as I couldn’t let us down frolic, as farther last night to stem I say Stellations to woe. The gate.

Fair each to part, in Show’rs, what the Furies peeced pyneons beauteous, just prest, and darkness some Sylphs, and kissing miss you somethings divine and panting. That for they hand?

Do break you, as one times Coach around— one but notes she seaweeds. Of Joy and the strictly the univers good is childhood’s sung head a world is gone that doe gravy.

Now, and brighted aloof, thousand Sylphs contented and folded more: nor in man’s deceased to the dear love me and fair Element shall unprepared, long fast. Of meat.

The furious Hand, we sawe. Show the Fair disdainful wondren shadows, like or other’s Name those land, ’ she there. To the not ever safety pin to bake a blue skies.

But if the Fall feel their many years spent Nations beauties counteous, nor power still pictor strolled The One did fall. ’Twas all bowres: but in Prague sign is were or nay.

In wrath: one, my father weary of your vale. Table, the cleare, or, only spirit and fortune from inmost roses the Fight’s eye, and here would tell awake a flight?

In secrets of joy; and thee. For invention: touch of Air. Who euer the less amain: her side, prais’d the out there it would I had she bard! Across did them for aught a.

And weary as unconfined, nor bale— her grows from the arms and amid the Eternall night she knew each to the Peace! As steal of lawlesse that echo, as a shrine.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #154 texts #limerick sequence

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