#sonnet anon

[k9effect]

Hello tis I, sonnet anon and I would just like to say whoever dislikes sonnets can suck my fat *{GUNSHOTS}*

Its okay, sweet sonnet anon, you cant please everyone

[textingtroublesanswers]

Nooo! Ludwig! In English!! I can't get the sappy feelings from it if I don't know what it says!

*Tala pouts*

If you don't want to read a poem to me, that's fine, I'll read them myself!

-🦖

Ludwig laughs, "Ja, ja, I'll read you a poem properly. Ahem."

Mikhail goes over & picks Maria up, & holds both of the twins up to his face so that they can hide his red cheeks.

"I awoke one day

To a sunless sky

To you in my bed

Shining brighter than the brightest star.

One day I will wake

Just as morning breaks

With you no longer there

And I will wonder who took my brightest star.

But just for today

Hear me say

That while I live

You will forever be my brightest star."

[arsoniiii]

love is not for the weak, as many have said:

to love is to risk, and to risk is to hurt.

so i took that to my heart, kept it in my head,

but then i met you, who made me divert.

i love you as the moon loves the sun, basking in its light,

and as the night loves the day that completes it.

i love you as a sailor loves the sea, without need for requite,

for the honor of its presence is befit.

but, how does one speak when confidence is naught?

through metaphor and writing, from behind a device.

although your voice jumbles my every feeling, my every thought,

i've told you once, i've told you twice, and i'll say it thrice:

i love you as a friend,

and as a lover, until the end.

happy (late) i love you day, my dearest :]

you are so fucking cute i love you so much

[dudeshusband]

Dear Mike,

Writing now in the gym next to the window looking out at the nearby forest and well look there, the seasons sure are changing- you feel it, Baby? I sure do. Campus is growing louder with the buzz of a new semester and the arrival of new kiddos and oh, know what? All I can do is think of how happy I am to have you by my side to watch it all with me. Well, I know we haven't been going steady for that long, but oh I got a good feeling about us; suppose we got a lot of seasons ahead of us to face together. I'm looking forward to them.

Oh, know what else I've been thinking about? You. Well, not just you, I've been thinking about the idea of ‘us’ too, but mainly you. There's something real nice about how I know that no matter what, no matter how much you may or may not change as the days and oh I'm hoping years go by, you'll still have that same shine in those eyes of yours. You've got such pretty eyes, Honey. Reminds me of storm clouds bringing down much needed rain on parched lands and of wishing wells I've tossed my deepest wants and pennies into. Wish I'd met you earlier- the love in your eyes gives me so much more than any old well could and oh what's more, I get to keep all my pennies to save up for something nice to give you back. You sure do give me so much; in a way, you are that rain and that well, bringing me everything I could've ever wished for whenever you look at me and smile that pretty smile of yours.

Your smile and your eyes ain't the only pretty thing about you Baby, there's so much to you. Well, for example I love how tall you are, it's so easy to just lean down and kiss your cheek. I also love how soft you are and how warm your hugs always feel, it's like being wrapped up in a blanket of love. Oh, and the way the sun shines off your brown hair whenever we're outside is always real pretty too, and well I couldn't ever possibly forget about those adorable freckles of yours- how can I? They sure add such a sweet charm to your gorgeous face. It's always a real pleasure to watch you blush and smile for me, especially whenever you let me pick you up or oh sure, whenever I catch a chance to blow in your ear- that's always real fun. I'm real glad you don't mind me doing that Baby, you're just so gorgeous it's downright impossible for me to resist getting close to you and teasing you whenever I get the chance.

Well, that's all the time I got for now Honey; I’m sorry but this gym is about to be full of kiddos any minute and the last thing I need is one of them girls finding this letter! I sure am looking forward to seeing you soon and looking into those pretty eyes of yours and sure, holding your hand… oh, maybe next lunch hour, we can spare some time for you to read out-loud to me that new book you've been enjoying recently. I always enjoy it when you do that and I know it's been a real long while since you last did. Until then though, I'll stop here and hope this warms your heart like you've warmed mine.

Yours,

Bob

@sincerely-your-fo

ough this is so sweet

i love him so much already...

[taocc-updates]

Taocc jackbox session 2: the Isaac-ening

I had to crop so much for this help me

[soopertiddies]

Nick's soft fuzzy tummy?

Masterpiece. Beautiful. Stunning.

I want to give it raspberries and it should be cherished, anyone who thinks otherwise I will 1v1.

[ughgoaway]

Ok but did you see Matty’s arms at the last couple shows agsjdshdldks -

also those beans make me wanna barf -🌻

...don't even get me STARTED. WE NEED TO CLOSE THE GYMS. GET RID OF HIS PERSONAL TRAINER. ITS GOING TOO FAR NOW GUYS.

his arms are just so big and I need to leave teeth marks in him NOWWWWWWWW!!! I also need him to put me in a chokehold pls and ty <3

(the beans make me wanna barf too bestie don't worry)

[nordleuchten]

Dear Anon,

thank you for the question. For whatever reason, tumblr deleted the ask after I edited it and I can not find any longer … but that wont deter us. :-)

2. top 5 books of all time?

Oh my, that is the most difficult question out of them all. And I admit it, I have to cheat a tiny bit. My five favourite fiction books of all time are, in no particular order:

Les Misérables by Victor Hugo

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson

Die Bürgschaft by Friedrich Schiller (not a book as such but I love his poems/ballads, book-wise it would probably be Geisterseher)

Sonnet 116 by William Shakespeare (again, not quite a book, but 116 is his best Sonnet in my opinion, otherwise it would be Macbeth)

Unterm Rad by Hermann Hesse

I feel as if I have personally offended several books on my shelf, but these five are my all time favourites (probably.)

19. most disliked popular books?

I have already answered this question here. :-)

[dteamain]

you having golo tendencies is so interesting to me most of the time you come off as a sane drolo

we have this conversation on my blog every couple of months i was the og golo okay 2020 I was covid locked up in an apartment ranting to my girl crush about how Minecraft content was stupid but georgenotfound was different because he actually had a personality

[just-some-random-blogger]

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimmed;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,

Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,

When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st.

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

i remember reading this for the first time and how lovely and warm it felt. i really like sonnet 18. here's another one i really liked learning about too sonnet 130

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;

Coral is far more red than her lips' red;

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;

If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

I have seen roses damasked, red and white,

But no such roses see I in her cheeks;

And in some perfumes is there more delight

Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know

That music hath a far more pleasing sound;

I grant I never saw a goddess go;

My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.

   And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare

   As any she belied with false compare.

[justanamesstuff]

when I think of matty as a parter I think of one sonnet by William Shakespeare called My Misstress there is something so matty about I can't put my finger on it

-back muscles anon

Hii, i wasn’t aware Shakespeare wrote sonnets! Blaming all my literature teachers right now…

Well, had to do my little research for this but I agree with you. From what I understand there are 2 ways I see this related to Matty:

1. idealizing a partner is something we all do…it’s a big part of falling in love with another human and it’s not right or wrong. I believe we probably idealize Matty (this I think about quite a lot haha). Although, I also think after that instance, we see a true part of him…even when we don’t really know him fully as a partner would do, or how his family and friends know him. And we adore him with his good and bad parts.

If you think the hypothetical instance of him as a partner or having any one as your partner, and continuing with the process of falling in love…not something I experienced myself but, that first phase is beautiful although you fell and you’re committed to the other person when you truly see them with all the nice attributes and failures.

2. I think he’s handsome af (not an expression Shakespeare would use haha), even though sometimes I’m like ‘Why I find him attractive?’ (Lol). Answer is, at least what I think, he’s not conventionally attractive and I’m more than fine with that. He’s so fucking beautiful. Of course in a very superficial way, but also in a deeper meaning. I’m so in love with his brain, it’s something I can’t entirely understand or can explain.

This is my interpretation, please let me know yours!!! I love to talk about this stuff :))) sorry if you didn’t ask for this…you can ignore me!!

Ps: its 7 am here, I slept less than 6 hours keep that in mind if there’re typos or anything 😅

[cryingforcrocodiles]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTR7615Jy/

it's not letting me save this. fell to my knees. wanted to share everyone. THANK YOU BLUDDDDD my eyes grew hearts. ILYYYYY 🛐🛐🛐🛐

[kvothes]

is there still hope for me?

it tipped its head back to receive the minor tenderness, which to the bird must have felt like being touched by a god.

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

I don't know how to help you with your sonnet, other than to tell you a dear friend who went from artist to playwright and back to artist specializing in handmade books is on the verge of publishing a book that is a visual accompaniment to the sonnets. She is in IG as @baltimoresonnets. Hope that gives a bit of help. AAJ

Oh interesting. Will have to go check that out!

I managed to write a “sonnet” that fits the assignment parameters lol. Thankfully, my professor did not require perfect rhymes or the traditional rhyme schemes. That was the “if you wanna really challenge yourself” option. So I was able to get away with a few slant rhymes and call it good. But hahah! I actually managed iambic pentameter!!!! Mwahahahahahaa!!!!

Now I’m going to retreat back into the relative safety and freedom of writing in free verse. Wah.

Hope you are doing well, my dear! Post chemo and radiation recovery going okay?

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

https://www.tumblr.com/eddiebabygirldiaz/713863622009470976 Sonnet 69?

aaa yesssss! thank you beloved!

[mickandmusings]

sincerity & sonnets

-

pairing: anthony bridgerton x f!reader

word count: 2.1k

summary: anthony bridgerton is blessed with many things-a warm, loving family, a well-funded lifestyle as a viscount, a beautiful wife. more notably, he is cursed with a short fuse and a sharp tongue, which might lead to his demise.

(based off of this request! to the anon who requested, I sort of wrote the argument as more of a sharp remark, but i hope it is still angsty enough for your liking! <3)

warnings: angsty->fluffy, no other warnings

-

As Anthony sat at his desk, scribbling away at his numerous piles of papers stacked in front of him, he noted the unusual quietness that had fallen on his study. He first thought that he had shut the door, but one quick look at the doorway contradicted his beliefs. Anthony's eyebrows furrowed in confusion-his home was never quiet.

Between his own family, and the families of his four sisters and three brothers, his home was full of life: laughter bounding off the walls, his wife and sisters' voices chatting over tea, the stampeding footfalls of his hoard of nieces and nephews assured his ears would never grow accustomed to utter silence. Even in the rare occurrence that the house was empty save for Anthony and his beloved wife, he'd often hear her humming to herself as she attended to her own business in their home, or she would join him in his study, writing her own correspondences at the smaller desk next to his own. Which is why, now, as he sat at his desk this afternoon, the silence stunned him. Anthony frowned, lifting his pocket watch to assure himself he was not entirely losing his mind. As the gold clock stared back at him, the small hand signaled it was midday.

He chuckled to himself, his wife must have chosen to sleep in entirely too long. Y/N was a chronic night owl, often keeping Anthony awake with her bedside chatter and comments on the appearance of the night sky through the window that faced their bed. Anthony would indulge her, but would still wake before the sun. His wife, however, would not budge for several more hours. He grinned and pocketed his watch, pushing himself up from his chair to wake his sleeping beauty of a wife.

Anthony bounded up the stairs two at a time, nodding curtly at any house staff before reaching their shared bedchambers. His dark eyes peer into the empty bedroom-his wife certainly was not here. He noted the dutifully made bed, the open curtains allowing the sunlight in, and, most importantly, his wife's absence. Anthony shook his head briefly before dashing back down the stairs, nearly stumbling into one of his wife's handmaidens.

"Pardon me," he addresses the woman with a sigh, a bit breathless from the unexpected goose chase his wife has taken him on. "Do you know the whereabouts of my wife?"

The younger maid looks at Anthony almost confused, but quickly takes on a professional tone:

"The Viscountess is reading in the garden, she's only just gotten back from tea with the Dowager Viscountess and the Duchess."

Anthony nodded in thanks, hastily departing for their expansive garden, his mind racing. Seeing his wife was an afternoon ritual-she would come bounding into his study after tea with his mother and respective sisters, spouting off all of the new ladies' gossip as he listened intently, all while pretending he was entirely disinterested. He enjoyed seeing her eyes grow wide with the shock of scandal, or her smile at a sweet interaction she witnessed at the park. If you were to ask Anthony Bridgerton, there was no sight more splendid than his wife in all of her extraordinary, everyday beauty. Not that he would admit that aloud, at least not to anyone but her.

Frankly, he was missing her presence today more than he cared to admit. He spotted Y/N almost instantly, her periwinkle gown shining in the sun. She sat in a chair politely under a shady tree, the book on her lap seemingly forgotten. Her expressive eyes locked onto the treeline in the distance, her face solemn. Anthony's heart seemed to fall in his chest, the sinking realization of why his home had been so soundless for the entirety of the day. His chest felt tight as he thought of his actions last night...

-

It had been a very, very long day for Anthony. With Francesca's upcoming debut to society, his mother had been harping on Anthony for nearly a fortnight about every minute detail. His patience for his mother was infinite, but sometimes she did manage to test its limits. Atop this hurdle was the never ending stacks of paperwork littering his desk, waiting to be looked over and signed off by his barely legible scrawl. He had neglected to write Colin back for weeks-his younger brother writing about his travels in Greece. The house staff had been in and out of his study all day, the incessant knocking severing his nerves. The heavy weight of life as a viscount was falling on Anthony, making him irritable and exhausted. His dear wife had settled his discomfort around lunch, bringing his nearly-cold meal into his study to make sure he ate. She had left him with a chaste kiss and a better mood, but Anthony had returned to her worse for wear.

Dinner in their large dining room had felt unnaturally dreary, only the sound of utensils clanking against china plates filling the air, only to be stifled by his wife's chatter. Normally, Anthony would've listened attentively, enjoying hearing about trips to the modiste or how Portia Featherington had driven his wife to near madness. Today, however, her voice had him pressing his nails into his palms to aid his irritation. He sipped his wine and shuffled his food on his plate to avoid making eye contact, he would not want her to see the frustration lingering in his eyes.

"Eloise was completely beside herself, I had never seen her so embarrassed! Madame Delacroix-"

"Must you talk so incessantly?!" Anthony's voice spat out in a low growl, dripping with fierce vexation.

Y/N's eyes grew wide, looking at her husband as if he had sprouted an extra arm and slapped her with it. She said nothing, only cowering in on herself, staring down at her lap as she fidgets with her hands. After several moments of Anthony's intense silence, she lifts a shaky hand and wipes the tears forming in her eyes as she hastily made her way out of the room, attempting to put as much distance between her and Anthony as possible.

Anthony followed suit moments later, feeling angry at himself as he slammed the door of his study shut, falling asleep at his desk hours later. Y/N had slept on her side of a bed far too large for one, her eyes tender and cheeks splotchy, her mind racing. Did she truly talk too much? Had he been annoyed by her daily talks for all these months? Her mind weaved small details into a full blown breakdown, and she quickly settled on being Anthony's perfect, quiet wife as she caved to her drowsiness.

-

The wind blew his wife's curls against her shoulder as Anthony approached her in the backyard, her back still facing him. He wasn't sure she had even heard him approach, her eyes still focused on the landscape sprawled before them. Anthony shuffles nervously, his hands behind him as he stands at her side, only the wind and birds chirping aiding the suffocating silence.

"Splendid weather we're having," Anthony's voice finally spoke, awkward and fumbling into casual conversation as he sank into the chair across from him. Y/N said nothing, only blinking in the same direction she had been staring at the entire time. Anthony nodded, mostly to himself, resigning himself to her silence, it was what he deserved at the moment.

After several moments of dead silence, Y/N turned her attention back to the book perched in her lap, and Anthony sat silently, wanting to spout out his apology in a hurried, bumbling manner, but he knew his wife, she would simply nod and continue reading, allowing herself to stew in prolonged silence.

He rose quietly, leaving with a small kiss landing atop her head-a touch that burned Y/N's skin. She watched Anthony leave out of the corner of her eye, sighing heavily as his presence was back inside their home. She was a myriad of feelings: angry at Anthony for being so blatantly cruel, his words had stung and left her reeling for hours. She was sad, as much as the words had fired her up, they had torn her heart, leaving her chest heavy with dejection. Y/N was nearly bursting at the seams to just apologize-even if it wasn't her who needed to apologize-just so the awkward encounters would come to an end. She wondered if Anthony even felt remorse at all.

In his study, Anthony ran his hands through his hair for the hundredth time, attempting to focus on the business papers in front of him. His efforts were fruitless-all he could think of was the empty look on Y/N's face. He had never seen her this lifeless, like her glow had been snuffed out, and it was entirely his fault. Anthony's mind raced with a million different scenarios of how he would make this up to her, ranging from flowers to begging on hands and knees, but despite his blunders, he knew his lady well. His Viscountess had never been one for showy things or frivolous purchases, she would only want his sincerest apologies. He would do it tonight, over dinner, he decided. He only hoped when the time came, she would at least spare him a glance.

-

Hours later, at the dining room table, Anthony found himself sitting in his chair at the head of the table completely alone. The kitchen staff came and left with plates and glasses, but his wife had yet to make an appearance. Anthony's foot tapped against the floor in anxiety, his eyes shooting up to the closest staff member, nearly shouting:

"Where is the Viscountess taking her dinner?"

The head of the kitchen staff looked at Anthony wide-eyed at his outburst, replying politely:

"Viscountess Bridgerton took her dinner in the library tonight."

Anthony said nothing, rising from his seat and walking down the hallway, coming to the door of the library and knocking lightly.

"Come in."

Anthony nearly burst into a fit of tears, happy to hear her voice.

He pushed the door open, Y/N's eyes meeting his before they dropped back down to the open book in her hands. Anthony felt guilt press heavy on his chest. He settled into the plush chair opposite her, separated only by a small end table. Anthony looked over at her, his brown eyes all but practically begging her to say something to him.

"Y/N..." Anthony's voice is small and timid, trying to coax her into at least hearing him out. Y/N's voice came out a whisper, cutting him off.

"I am sorry."

Anthony furrowed his brow, that was certainly not what he was expecting to hear. He looked over at her, her gaze locked on the moonlight coming through the window, her eyes glassy with tears.

"I am sorry I have become a burden, Anthony. I did not realize I irritated you with my ramblings. I thought you wanted to hear of my daily activities. I know my day as a woman is not nearly as riveting as yours as a Viscount, but-"

"My dear, your apologies are not necessary," Anthony's voice dripped with sincerity, his eyes warm as he looked at her, ready to grovel for forgiveness. He stuck his hand out for her to take, which she did. He pulled her towards him softly, his gentle touches coaxing her into his lap. Y/N's eyes grow soft under his gaze, her limbs melting in his strong hold. "I am the one who has been a fool. I look forward to your ramblings, no matter if they hold what you consider to be valuable or not, they brighten my day. I wait most ardently for news of trips to the modiste, or my mother's ramblings over tea-" He pauses, tucking a stray curl back behind her ear, his thumb wiping away the stray tears on her cheeks.

"I don't want you to be silent. Your voice is more pleasant than any other sound," Anthony cuts himself off, sighing, before starting again. "I should not have spoken to you in such a manner. I should not have raised my voice at you. You have my word that it will never happen again, I cannot go another day surrounded by your silence, it is torture."

Y/N smiles slightly at her husband's words, his transgressions forgiven with his sincere words. His face is close enough to hers to brush her nose against his, their lips close enough to meet.

"Are you certain you were not a poet before we met, Lord Bridgerton?" Y/N's voice is a whisper, the moment feeling far too intimate for anything else.

Anthony chuckles as his hand grasps the side of her face lightly, bringing her closer, speaking before he kisses her deeply:

"Only for you, my beloved...you inspire sonnets."

-