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libidomechanica · 1 year

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Untitled (“I am only giving that) call a bird-understand”)

A rispetto sequence

At someone asks—You haven’t both good aboundeth. Cheered and went singing us all: wrecked deede: and more than that deity. I am only giving that call a bird-understand. With theyr hornes butten the sun, and Earth, and hope no relief; undone by one’s going to do with those weary as I am losing my lasse, to worke is conuenable. We han great.

Seeping too and fresh winds are full of sport, and still on Menie doat, and below not a breath, this countered, he went mad, and raging, bend the love of words wherein campeth, spread, who taught her arms and singing it to happen. With many Graces, and around you give me welcome, next my heaven that I shall I the mountains, skipping grace in this false bonds of rising sunflower.

On the floating weft, where all his whole life and daughters. And hear her forehead hopefully shines, bright: such pierlesse pate. That thou leau’st the snow cover me, my mother, in the nut if, after hastely thy siluer sound. The holy flesh furthermore how did Judas was touch! That the commonplace I freeze her, tongue; and the light seized with my milk: eat, O love were two at her sight.

In trifles no store and screw out all of my own, who camest to me; he shatters his ankle during a though in them my life, climbing the object whereupon, in anger flying to his garden ground thee wings impetuous some winter, with people call a bee. Said he, Look how you’re drive all need with love. Yes, call me by the end of the judgment of my Sick Soul! Love!

Going slightless seas of selfishness amain: seas that appear; nor doth but plainly of not turning away from hurt you hast ravishing love in fields with pale uncertain light each May morning; if these my wings of Them it could not find each outward walls of jet. Drinking and made her gilded leaues or colour of summer breeze is whispering in each other in the rain.

Now the sleep as its only instructed wrong . She strong when I perceive that the spices: a fountain-source of words where Byrds of Engedi. The feeling are one. For fear. Love as bright, let temple’s gate. One upon life’s first sight, with contend. Tis Phillis, that is at best thou shalt thou? Lest that our Sex betraide, and thoughts, sold cheap what is Woman? Bred in my mind, the burning her.

While the whole life a fruitful marriage temple, saying—Never Night and strength might become more than another was far more pleasure. The fabric of mi skirt, just so much, and run again as I do vow and quite gone, beauty’s name; but no such man’s heart knows what is dead Unconstant mind, theyr youry Luyts and merciable, and although not able is towards thereof of silver.

A heart draws near that were Hobbin how I was ten, skinny, red-headed, freckled. My mistress bids me wear the bump I ride in my veins. We have heard no longer. And sad-sighing and what way they will come, and angels were made the level of you asleep and breath, till twilight footsteps of their stranger. And oft I blush’d to see, you can many times do I love appeareth.

Seeping house same heart, the Bramble bush, the broad ways I will forgetting thy power to sting is played out in advance in secret influence comment; when I was so fonde, to crowned with tryed state, neede feare of Poets fury tell, while ever to remain. I met her look the doubtful story, to woo,—and—Lord knows my love so much, no more the banqueting house are cedars.

The two of theyr peace. I had no quiet, a few friends, those whom we can, if wee must, let’s sing o’re, and comes ane an’ twenty, Tam! It gouges out and cruel stars, and the core o’ the world thou art made, why come you can make a seizure on the day, and I mysel’ hae plentye: and mock me, and straight did not thy shame and disappoint myself than she knowne gayne, oft liues within his grief.

The evening through he took himself than she is foiled. And other self I lye. We may look up, to drop on a new rays that watch’d thy early in the shepheards voyce, but now when I’ll brush her covert nest a little that it to me, will pype and drink of her mother brother is a matter what poverty my Muse brings forth, I would I were a mermaid now, for heart. What’s that?

Darkening valley, and the soueraigne head upon me: my mother behold, thou should him for balance. Compare may thee proofe I may well recount, but now is time, I looked back upon that gave the soft beams, injoying of me; well, if it ended in the Shulamite; return. The mandrakes give all the places of anguishing novel, nothing. Some found again, only to speak.

I dempt there you will knowest thou now? That valleys, groves, hills and feeds on me some heat and teaches him the argument all but bespeak thy grave, and the red dress; for brawly weel he ken’d the steaming tea and Land, yet what thirst, my dear, dear love, and for excess of maidenhood against a telephone pole, and o’re, our own dear- purchased right than the fawn that I can praise her?

I think that sin is soon after-comming harme did not show us to our Eyes; a Cataract that, oft I hear the sad augurs mock their smiles encounterpart,. Drown it: if a mightier arm could new though parent’s evening, and hers the very same and below not a breath so sad as I, thoughts that you have? Me home apace, least night long growing in slow and said, Gee woe!

From thence into a crystal I conclude my pains? When she sits and Tamburins forgoe: and had not long as Death, retrieves as well. Seemed singing out, my fancye eke from the night, your sight. The winds shook the mouth to the gardens, and nothing strong your eyes should not, I opine, and be kind at rest but strictly held by none, yet I know she is. The way I think he will make toward the door.

The iolly hole in them. And Sally Brown, what a mortgage was. And understand. Both broken faith and she what I waking, half sighing to leave to quench or cool me with vision, and then they sat around you have one good, Christian woman’s hearse we are always and light than in hue, all hues’ in his head is filled by my soul loveth: I sought her call was heard, that watch you new.

The people would do. I watch and ransom all ill deeds. A jet streams from a game. And whining, and the orchard of all; if one of homely sheepe that saist thou art my life, in brief while the king hath been told in your sleeping, which the sight I make moan all spleenful folly was drown it: if a man would they preuaile as much war then it gets better but shore. Take away my veins.

Through that bound in each other’s windows in clusters oh, you wide oppen this obedience, looking thought I trace that fears be: just so much honor, when it gets differently did drop, and layen baytes to bene ytost: thy love’s mine idle life or breath? Wait for mind spills through all the please. The sound and bade me go to the sun hath her heart as the stairs, less false compare.

With any Letter of Fidelity; who ever read it the other on hylls, or dales, or other make the flocks of the eye. To know one thing he makes a Devil’s self denying. But is profaned, if not like to a roe or a young voice of blood-drops, as I know that no child’s foot, watch the eternal thirsty milk! Now my sweet Tibbie Dunbar? When I love you.

Robert Burns: “there his vision fleeting your mind. Because thee for grief, however wooed, and all by name. It doesn’t always. Less for feareth but in the ghost begins to weave the world. Learn mi lessons for me that swoons and the stately ships go on In the flowers and Dreams and me. Team hotel, the bitter barren woman! Then I knew no better leaue the words, of love again!

The outline of breeding cockatiels—clutch after you’ve risen. But as thou wilt be my ain. So late I not kept. Of flower, but if my sinful then, confesses love in fields with your dreamed. And press the indicative, only movement in her e’e? Love for his labour be: listening now to the grass, and see my love talke, and strength to help thee, mournful, sober-suited Night!

The little boote: for the dark, dark vault above— devoid of tears, the pleasure lies. By his tongue can speak—then the lattice. Fuel; I had two nickels to rub together love, ah my own, but if he knew was preserv’d by the foul with his sword upon thee Diggon, I lament thy case, that bad his fruit of worlds a melody that it lasts the pleated shirt sours my scent beneath.

Come thou thyself a motley to the pain I feel, to give news: niagara or Vesuvius is expected to give news: niagara is no sleepless, yet resign’d. In my time, I was not from the impalpable as udders were walking. And pledge the bush, where I have suffer dearth, painting the shepheards bene rough, and ruddy, the smell still, and stranger to my own.

Is the prince of the yellow, yellow star: So many noises and casten to see even in hell they hadn’t seen, and the bottom therefore do the vines have erred, and fruictfull flocks are cast on the earth and though the cause of thy nose is as a flock of goats that conceit her head. Blood- red he rose, and at once, she sat in front of every many beads there I have smiled at me.

Beams of our honour, I my jest: sad mortall sinnes the small bed to seek another grace in the ducklings cry, the sweat and still the world’s sunflower turns of thy grave, and as long done; an angel pure and sickness, that wretch auaile. Though before me like a vision vex me alive has seized my name, and yet I have loved so I cannot swim. Sing again, with what he said.

Mark but loued not; I lou’d, but all of miserye. The floating clouds the core o’ the world. Shall adorn my tomb; that night I’ve held your pleasure lies. If I had two nickels to rub together, we will go up to a dragon wherewith him betight. Thy neck is as ointment with me and May? What fond and we were such a pernicious and done to obtain; tis Phillis, that by.

The hurt is not these most deare, was simply did offence’s cross. Of their ways; I sit and go, thou not near that comes down and only by one aglint with sorrow and who keeping house for weight than this? As doth lie; even silence, nor will; but in two years later she smiled; then, enamour’d busy bee the rose the surface but let him kiss me with a sigh—it was daye light.

Shoulder, a birthday party where your owne leasure, a pleasures grow. Good, no enemy but winter and day could tread thee into it—that you, and I felt as I! Sylvia the fawn that swoons and wishing eye, or sleepy eyes I sleep without love, with me, and maken a Mart of their particularly sets him off, something that ye stir not up, nor awake my love.

My solitary time be compassion slide into her dearth,? Or what should have broken-hearted. The mortgage was. Tis Phillis, that Pity in the lark’s early morning’s dew, ne’er to be that must thy pity me? An’ it’s like lilies. Organ in their most dear, made old offence’s cross. In the old and told, love to sayne, the more than wine. In two cupped hands are lying stays.

The holy collect said or sung for wet filaree and was but a trick to poisoned jerkin from hanging a mile, more than a mile, more than we would lie; yet could take hold of these, no fears more rype, and sighing and kiss thee; I am so stiffe and successful too; winning posture all used up. In the ninety year old woman wert thou be a reprobate with her heart raves.

With your promise such falter now? Shalt beautiful, O my love, and even silence and pulled taut that Rich she smiled; then, how great’s that? ’Ning rose; but nowe her is a malformation just as it was damn’d to heauenly signes must sever; now snows fall the meadows, where thou list aduised be, and bless than a wasp can sting, and clasping and kissing, taking resolvèd; if to love.

Unfolds cleanly couer, that beats your Valentine? Yet he sweet Tibbie Dunbar? I love you. As if a Woolfe in his grave, and your hip; the sound overpowers, once a whole business of the wild-woods among, there’s the name, the naked into bed, the world was gone: my soul wears shiny boots like pillars of smooth and clear away, and’t shall adorn my tongueless crocodile.

Be well perhaps you spoke and bear it nor no man will live out my Wag. Then need I not do, thought the tale remember this heaven looks the ship afar: tossing, and women, years of might- have-beens, the singing it up become a man. Think not my love. Winged snake bite yu, when one of these and rough weather. Most tender to know one thing on it hath my added praise, o Muses!

And my face and yet to time your Valentine. Where are the chamber of her look told—Perhaps you said with love. The price to do whatever he was a nice young Chevalier. It’s got my number. The wind’s least of Knowledge sake, then by me. Show how they who never, she cries, shall see her life on through all things to keep my mind or body lies beside the sweet smelling my sight.

I think that appear before I show, than that doth come, thought to me befell; they were to lick th’ effused sacrilege, three or four days to do it plus the Gods deare Sonne betrayed him other the water, and so he chewed his pigtail till her temples be, t’ entertain that life thou alone with love me—wilt thou be a reprobate within. Know thee, O my loves.

Having denied the smell of Life—one little by little. The pit of your virtue hate, I do, yet dare not sweet: yea, he is my sin, ground, and the evensong; and, having denied the villagers quick and pearl, can vie with eyes wide white as was none but you are asleep in thee, wilt thou feedest, when it is the fault much love, and all day long back, and every one for me!

Of purest gold; a belt of strawberries, diaper’d with pain and we lie near each other is grilling creation with her the vines with sweet beauty born of murmurs to a single ballads o’er, the curre, and sighing and turn his middle age, he reeleth from the sky. At worst of fortune shewe forth: there is the pain of finite passionless, pale, cold face, that will I not kept.

Shall help thee, dear love, with a future that inhabits you forsloe, and unsmooth and she was holding his hand by a ghastly glimmer, and his lands and light its worth there. Referee. Was ratified this last word was what is at a loss what thou forget’st so long back at all. Ear, the curtain’d love’s missal through then I was a girl, this couple, were the note of all, that things prove.

Stay, stay, for it anew revive; inspired and the room: the vapor can the sailor hates the dark night I feel her growe. The air is as briefly did offended Prince, nought forbad, but all of thy neck with me from the night I’ve held most dere. For ever I was a lady’s heart is beauty o’ersnow’d and doat. And free as in the other petty griefs have our bed is green.

My nerves push again—wearing its curse onto my face; the place of desire than that guides me to prepare and that, as from a sip of hemlock, I’d expire without a sun though my obedience, looking at set off to seek the south, and make a seizure on that exists. An’ twenty, Tam! No hurt there are the Slave of Lust must still on Menie doat, and beg of you.

And best beloved, and the morning. And fill; but not till mine grows cold in your chest adrift between her mournful song; and, as we climbed the body deranges itself, and wine: or for only a few special animal thought I would eate it, who had bene. And thus, crying: help! With the chambers: we will remember, I lay on the morning. Some boy and mine than wine.

For me, I wil thee comfort neer. I gave me thou hast won? For thy revolt doth Phoebus gold that sin is soon absolvèd. For thy works on me some heat of light, metals, were life or breath, why should look at your job and careless crocodile. Whilst he liued, was the top of Amana, from a sunflower, but if these years ago you said something among the perfect musike giue.

And do not run too familiar care doth thine heart, will arrive before was a girl, this obedience, looking thee Proof that till itself to play a plait upon us that conceit of the current poured him whom my soul loveth: I sought him betight. On trembling dews. The young hart upon me as from a learned how silent grow, good Thenot leave my Verses higher.

Meadow kit foxes crave much, and Sea do know, has tantalized me many times do I love to look another brought, fast by their shining from the day, yet he sweetheart mine, then I, my though a strangely: but, by all the chest, flooding you like the shades hath weand my face house were squeez’d from thee? Thine heart, the vernal hues: her leafy locks. Her sinne was summ’d in YES, and never wauks.

And lilies. Shalt beauteous day, and thus of old thy coatie, sweet is thy turn this mop and mouthed erased. They waste the wood, for the wedding. Some old tomb’s ruin: yonder which he torment of my skin, love prick’d thee overcame my soul failed rehab and jail sentence still wilt cozen me. A crystal moon, clear as these. You vomit them out the Worse? And nothing but a day, and with me.

Among them back like a wig. This Child I to nurse the dazzling sun restored my vocal rage, and weariness and fire, ring retrograde our lowd desire but mummy, possess’d of either give something never saw a goddess go; my mistress of summer day will gaze her golden wing from leaf to leave all those fleshy principalities; show me those isles of Mary.

The whole soul with one of all, that say Good-bye too; and I took all those loves to see, you came not in my Song no more a-roving by their game of things to come homely sheepes clothing balm, and although not exactly, she is so good, that has thee hent, nethelesse thou art out of all my head. Then say, is only cured by quickness, that prove the offend, O help, O help!

If sudden capitulation giving worlds of the skidmarks of silver chain Your mind that the Chrysler building and all the fabulous for to woe. These living walls and feel for the foot of the true survey, if Time have as I could fold him from my soul was a stagnant tide till I could transfix the flower spring shut up, a fountains of spices: a fountain sealed.

Tamed by Miltown, we lie on Mother’s row, each shard, touch you new. The man in hue, all hues’ in his countenance is as a worm in my early lovèd, but I. My mistress might prove a girl, my boyling branches that all and the bird and sigh’d no surely, now forbear to give news: niagara or Vesuvius is destitute the eyes, I over-turn the ashen greyness.

To survive I forget his Jenny on his ’bacco box, he heaven above! We were terms for punishment is, come hither, come here next year ago, but never more bene with the whole soul was a cheat. Off like a visions for my head, he sped to Hero, nothing may well recount, but not the heau’n to the flowers your hours do, and drink my fill at your firstborn son.

But was made fruitful marriage? There was one thin month of darkness shrowds; how loudly Thenot leave crosses to accept that I stand transport pass. Atop the gods in? Belovëd, will be. As not drop it at my feeling your mind that touch you want with your soul’s spring shut up, a fountain sealed. Making cranck. Cold and rend apart the horned be, and she believed his dear. Another.

Time cannot come thanks my husbandship. And underfoot if any pass by her, pale, with mine, and around, and weariness and quiet after hastely thy sight, nor in Christendome: but feede him sad, it made her gilded bed-posts shine, abandoned, almost Dionysian. The smart of those gossamer you’d pinch the sad wounded on sinful loving and the aisle.

The winds are full of my beloved spake, and in haste, my beloved put in fire, which like to watch and ransom all ill deeds. If I shall not shield thee back, O liberal and presseth with Decay, to change, as is false bonds do not know what Loue decrees: or bid me love! You are only one of many han into my face toward these living smile the offended Prince, nor end.

And if the viewless wind. But suppose he shouts with her face but less presume to play my solitary time away. Our marvelousness of the loves; but mine sank sad and sickness. At stool-ball, Lucia, let us get up early song? Almost crashed, then return, forgetful Muse, that the spring did shrouded in their rotten bought a criminal hates a cat, or a crime.

Nor shame, and tell vs mery tales, to feed in the choice one of the un-apple. My beloved through that thy flock of goats that comes by thy pen both skill did invite me to its game; it seem’d to blub like angry Gods pursue from the facts! One holy collect said or sung for thy songe the flower made; for when you wouldst hunger so after frequent tears are spenta.

Shall sweetly? She sees through my mother’s children were a mermaid now, for they backed what way shall I marry the right have no ruth for any wicked change that’s how much I doubt and bitter bark and burn. The inner me therefore do thou be a reprobate within the night astronomers agree, the daily vnbidden grapevine springs,—your part my life or breath, so please me.

Thine to aggravate thy store; buy terms for punishment? Second fill; but not the task. After, the rain on silence on thy flock of sheep which in pity cannot die, nor Lawes, although enchas’d with grief and painted love, and revelled. This truth, O Loue, without, roses drowned, or walk by my early shepheards bene false and a thousand bucklers, all attending far away.

At kith or kin I need na spier, and bear the screech owl is the red balloons. Love me, though not exactly, she did sip, and lik’d; I lik’d but loued not; I lou’d, but all of thy song, my daily vnbidden crimes, those who love on pity you who are seized my nursling new love by the hyde the bodies into the ship alone, what once to which the early or late, without aid!

And kiss and sit in parliament; the dewy head, each under thy greater was farre: I thoughts their count it stranger to my absent case. Body join’d to heavenward and stricken by the intense sensation I have loved ever along a weary way, beneath the Virgin and bear the flames, which it sucked me from Lebanon which the land, rapidly riding faire a face?

Charlie, he’s my darling, the young Eulalie’s who sends to the ship came homely, as I for Glory; ’twere harbrough nis to seek they ken na what, features of what wants to tell; and mocks my lord the kids had never shone faire booke doth embrace me. Is no more I am not, as I’ve read long in dream. I am sick of love, which refuses to accept that I never flowed.

Who is she the trees, the bees humming round my rooms, as the colourless for twenties, and harmony without the land. Must endure they doen hem all by name. For don’t say, to change that’s all we shall now then wilt thou thyself out-going in each other’s arms, faded the tune. Free or four days to do it plus the field, that cypress- tree: or bid it languish in his golden cage.

But so as something with the smell of thys so wicked Wolfe, that is thy turn this morning. They are now exanimate. Sheep which I love you always three, fifteen, felt an innocence? And hast commaund: but aske hem thereon there; sap check’d with generous toast, the whole field with griefe: sike question ripeth vp cause of fear in the rest, because thee back, O liberal and probable!

Then hate me where someone’s back into the grassye grounded on sinful loving life is done, and by reflected light fails and fill that heart another bee, why of eyes’ falsehood in the world’s garden inclosed down—yet through your equals, free from the imperfect cote, or they who never, now; now, while I call; but ah! Great sunflower on earth—the ear that having denied!

And as long ages of a man would fain find and wake without love my dying I pray with a clasp and kiss the lily among roses, by a big girl’s mocking place by me which God had such pierlesse pate. Turning away from hanging round her covert nest a little starre seemed too much of worlds care, to deck her Dame, and there I whilome my ioy, and I will live in vain.

Lest one, and clothes to prune, thought doth see. By what you would not her poor death, but was made itself how time, the concubines, and, her mind, since, my number of bridges. And glowed both hidder and take me rue it. My Delia dawns, more luxuriant still raw love be sin in me, and this our marriage bed, and prayed to my griefs have still decades off in the grassy slope I traced it.

For Juliana came, and the high way, but thereof everything up his team, wi’ joy thee borders of the rarities of nature, then, that which he in her. The long ago; and either life,—so I, with a lively leap it began retreating, and thus he raped her. That we poore soule by cunning shorts. Where you once against the viewless wind. Thickens grow old and the pock!

Thy power to saying, ‘You suicide bitch! Alas, Love, what euer it hight, doe make love is fled, and hang that catches the United States, that’s in her eyes, with the traditional. And becoming a hermit, opening His teeth. My beloved is like Carmel, and my bowels were blue, and suddenly you forsloe, and so I cannot be the Well of my life, climbing them.

Hands are full of impossible up your house for wet filaree and white, shall I doe? Is to pick out the glow of—was it musk from highmost pitch, with your brain is dyed in such band, Ends love concern: if snakes. Into my father’s children out, scoop after thee and pulled taut that the clouds, astrea’s clime, thou to mind until that ye stir not up, nor awake the sun, o knights be dead.

Those hours, and sighing and fading mansion spend thy cold gray stone? Coat, the one that our Sex betraide, according the music should so mine eyes by thy losse to amend? Come, my griefs are impression is, among the striking brown face, poised above thee borders of the ball in a penalty kick. Why of eyes’ falsehood in my curse, too good for his shall he the tribe of Reuben?

The tumbling dew: or glitter’d to my hart sore. You, Mag! So if I sleep a full heart, that went wrong emprise. But supposed as for knowledge sake, the dangerous rocks nearby to her hearts were a mermaid now, for he was not attain’d no maid’s blisse. Of my mother! For like kelp and a voice of myrtle; a gown made himself for An’ twenty stabs, when mine hert doth lie, made more.

Though use make love make your forefinger and withal let it be. Riddled with love, called love, with pain and the lily of the vase between they’re gathered my ear, that euer liggen in watch you want with vayne desyre, and at once that thy white star-flowers appeareth. And makes out of felt unfolds cleanly couer, that all is well, which much I doubt and black and plain, in earth’s greater growe.

Then should I, like salt over a should love in fields, woods or steepy mountain of garden, and it would stay. In the ghost to wish to God I never sought her arms and Giaours throw kerchiefs at a loss what they made me like a hawk, an’ down yon scroggie glen, we daur na gang a mile from the land, the neck is as bright. Silence and virtue of stone—and lightfote Nymphes can chace the task.

Black, an’ it winna let a body be. The mortal moon hath his still live them any good. I would know no dearer name, and so he chewed his pipe, and the wretch that jasper morning in drouth, I feel that music hath a most vehement flame. Shine like a dream. Nay, darkness shrowds; how loudly she did discretion sets us free, and I will not live: tell her my painful plight.

These are younger Lover. Alas, tis to feed it soup? You sleeping, which service dwells, a porter thee and you have one, and as long legs of neon. The name I used to keepers pass, while, with studs of solemn light than in the rusted lock and yre, whereby I know she nuh notice as she the towers: then wilt thou in what way this spirit better but think and spangle here.

The champaign with it who have as she lay the flame upon that does Pity here? She has a Dogge the Cause of faultlesse Jesus, who will stay, forgot how tender-ship, you send, let my hair is as a flock of goats that is dead: to grace of silver, the rayned by reasons as if every part to live and the garments doen, which from ours, where day may bring for City. The hurts.

As your pleasure, and had not fitly done that on thine. Man saying, Open to me in my worlds a melody enthral or gall the next, because the books say, and tossing if love as it was stung; where’er I saw ane an’ twenty, Tam! And drank you, kind and weary eye. The mortgage was for know how this is sleepe, as she lay among the vi’lets springs downhill at dusk?

So thou, my death’s wound you give me words of euery kynde to the war; shall see where fynd, to shock a saint. I recognize her give thee wings of a former sight, it was stung; where’er I saw ane an’ twenty, Tam. I’ll dance in thine at ane an’ twenty, Tam. Ah faithless Sally Brown! Love gives light finds her you’re a rubber/gasoline salesman or a hypocrite? King Solomon’s.

Named my name, I designate as a prehistoric monster, yet so they meant by the rich or in the unseen strike off from a high building thy breasts. With all she can’t intersects yet runs parallel with a tear: alas! When you depart from Astrea flyeth. Of affections; never read it the pain of finite passion ought, which thou wilt resort, so as that I may sleepe.

My beloved is like a hawk, an’ then comes down to the vineyard at Baalhamon; he let out of thy dove. Like as the Curse of Better Women, what suspicious and doing me. No matter now forbear to give me, on a dewy morning rise to such countrye, as thought I trace that a several plot which I hate but into my mother home-run total is nothing.

I charge you, O daughters of thy great a fall to wretch that love to my thigh almost crosses to ring, and blesse thy with what a great compassions to impart, this wreckage. Dancing alone in a world roundelayes, or, at the ripe flame upon the grass, and fool, seekst not thyself than she is foiled. Its mouth: for time in theyr cote. I had no powre to see. The best with shame and burn.

In vain to raise, to take ourselves engraving the hour of this is my beloved; and my soules treaden vnder fool who will take; she shall my heart another beloved, that my temple’s worship has paid price, and bear their flanks but once, she said. Thy tuneful voice did it weighed enough the lasse, whose love of those blessed-fair the fruit dost bear, I am clad in flow’rs, and be my ain.

To his charming by gladly? While I breath that thou didst thy Saviour be; but when I see its foot more to woo, suppling and one said then; the tide in its chipped had turned off thy heart beautiful face and virgins o’er the auspices thereof. He would underfoot if any pass by her flowing, and choke on it hangs on flittering was deceav’d, no hurt thereof two hundred.

Such fears, quakes, palsies, and fruictfull flocks bene euery where his chambers: we will answer. Strive to prove the turtle builded for only by one aglint with griefe I now must curse my cruel stars, and the log, everything, and the light on me. The hopeless, yet resign’d. Taking a slumber in which starts and me. Wave on wave, until he please my selfe had been burned into the door.

Now, at home, gleaning on the chariots. Marry a monster, yet somehow man-made held together I would barke and dark, Blythe waukens by the girl shoots with her grown brother, we will go with rocks&we under it; show mercy then, were nothing, there is no other that came at play last moment thy case, that with a tear: but if that are even lizard, crawling without aid!

His eyes I’d known, dead to allay my soul may drink jeered and rough which fairly doth excell; rich in all beautiful. My mistress bids me wear the scorn of a back-hoe. That ever breast: she seemeth to love always love I bring forth as rough to all compassion ought, which like these pleasure, but Sorrow of identical masks, Tiptoe up to him and told the shpheard that stung.

And, as from Lebanon which who drank, he said, you push and I’ll despaire thus governes mee. He led me to paint my head and wandred I wene about her in the world with stealing step, I meet her in the violet breath, the butchered present death an equally theyr folds he disappearing an old tail coat, the mad—its hackneyed speech, its homicidal eye—and away.

Let me or flax; an equal light lifts up his tears: alas! Fate to come upon the lark, ’tween light than to enthral or gall the neck with charme of conscience of clergymen having a jet streamlet’s live merrily, and his lady sigh, and that lucent wavering of the pillar alone; for I am sick of love has buoyed me up till my Julia could not beware.

What euer I cast to haue lorne this ground of the year. Not Momus self seem Angel to our dear Eulalie’s most humble pair of thine heart, and talk, and flow’ry robe assume its vernal hues: her leafy locks wave in the mad—its hackneyed speech, its hope to shock a saint, that the singing sweet, inspiration. He found him not. Her links of chalk, the way she couldn’t just a die miscast.

Should lay, the worst to Pindar’s eyes were gazing down into a boy, and this kind relish the happier people ignoring its long as you serve me so? Alas, I have our Libertie is gone, and that minute found to forbid. But that I view, robert Burns: there he spied a bonie lass. Let me go, let me steal thyself go down into the light hangs on my stuttering. No.

Candle shadows fresh winds war; then shackle me. Did I heard not happen to see, the joys I have as she thanks my husbandship. ’Twas on a stream of solitude; yet could that had the palm tree, a corn-enclosed behind there mayet those who breath, this long legs of neon. But less presume to prove was not as these. To speak in Fain would rise and loving and all her my pains?

And that necessary. Or bene they live: thus did the Scales, so I must a riddle nature borne, I gaue to the sunflower, the bottom, bleaching for the Temple’s worship has paid price, and layen baytes to bene ytost: thy love when thou saw’st, in Nature’s power, fairing that exists. The outline of their yelps: high-strung Anthee, to beg her Saviours life. That I perhaps.

And there are Oh, tis to feel, across the bone: what’s still on roses over and she belied with milk-white lesions settle on thy white throat. Her should my heart waketh: it is so good, and the shells before my lip. And the swans and this wreck the faith; but when thou yet a pause, doe not in innocent face of death? There was not at me in. Lively leap in this obedience.

No hurt thereof may flow out. That is old, and from this drear flat of earthly years later she smiled, I shall at last fly to speak. He fainted love as it grew, so everything that in brief while our sheepe out of reach. Thy fervent flowers actually my whole things to come. When we walk you are only to see even in hell. Tis true I have gathered lesson where dewdrops pearls.

Could theyr good and ill. That holy dream, Love did erre, it was gold rings set with being crown’d, and the rosy banquet love. And its suit sleepe, as she gives me sigh for a languishing now you back carefully, to bathe in gold the tocher- gude I prize, did drop a flowers: a languish in love to look at light, who had powre to set in comeliness; when I answer is near?

Savage and sore and cloistered them to me and waves make the bright moon dropped my fingers of Zion, and the Virgin and thy many brittle darts. And the cars will arrive before he meets the eye. A week and playing and tombs of brass are sweetens, he sweetest singing out of season to wach and losse art thou in thine head, o my kin a race, as the eye; that’s in her breath.

Tis true I have eyes are empty and the mosses through her skin’s most serious ways, that in the night above—devoid of God and bareness everywhere on my garden inclose his eye. Whom Iron doores doe flee. A Lady of my selfe doth keepe, and stronger and that even as God mought needes decay, when the bus, the light that drop in for ane an’ twenty, Tam!

For me, degenerate modern wretch that they would not be matched; that I can praise, and ledde of two hundred Years in his eyes. Death is here; it has not a woman’s gentlest boon! That sith they were wonne to the sexton tolled the right eyes, accomplish’d shape, and leave me fashion; an eye where I kneeled at me. But sicker so it is, as the crystal vial Cupid brought to.

Pan with thee, and angry howl, and it has no opening the rocks, and fourscore concubines, and by the hill; but O for ane an’ twenty, Tam! With what a happy again throb with me and burn. That we may seek him whose eyes full of pensive fear; rather concentrate on the day when something now too old. Blest in heavenly features dear. A bird them leave me love, again?

Innocent play, and is he gone, embalmed even by the best wine for me, look in. The morrow but a little wilderness like the torch out, while I call outlive age and so for the bird All you ever done for such thy love’s service discharging himselfe to kiss your tongue, or true-love tie; next, when she shook her life,—so I, wit-beaten long before me like a blanket.

100

It oft would like the stars will sit upon me, because God’s will remember you appear before mine eyes; mine eyes, and I am hard to goe: then, were nothing hindereth; here on the last doth Phoebus stroue, which all she fallow air? That which goes before: but yet thou wilt leave to row; in the shrill verve of your faces, whilst ravished my fingers on a Monday morning.

101

Of tears fill her tears fill her than think only . As doth lay, the little silver. Fair Empress of myrrh with Decay, to begin our treasure of thousand pierce her dancing spectre seems to owe, insolvent every day, cash for beans and that was by him in thee, my song doth pleasant art thou, O Cupid! And the green: she had her abus’d, gods holy word ought ay deeper sinck.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #222 texts #rispetto sequence

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miajolensdevotion · 2 years

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February 23, 2021

Verse: Leviticus 24 Write/ Copy Gods words :

24 And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying, 2 Command the children of Israel, that they bring unto thee pure oil olive beaten for the light, to cause the lamps to burn continually. 3 Without the vail of the testimony, in the tabernacle of the congregation, shall Aaron order it from the evening unto the morning before the Lord continually: it shall be a statute for ever in your generations. 4 He shall order the lamps upon the pure candlestick before the Lord continually. 5 And thou shalt take fine flour, and bake twelve cakes thereof: two tenth deals shall be in one cake. 6 And thou shalt set them in two rows, six on a row, upon the pure table before the Lord. 7 And thou shalt put pure frankincense upon each row, that it may be on the bread for a memorial, even an offering made by fire unto the Lord. 8 Every sabbath he shall set it in order before the Lord continually, being taken from the children of Israel by an everlasting covenant. 9 And it shall be Aaron's and his sons'; and they shall eat it in the holy place: for it is most holy unto him of the offerings of the Lord made by fire by a perpetual statute. 10 And the son of an Israelitish woman, whose father was an Egyptian, went out among the children of Israel: and this son of the Israelitish woman and a man of Israel strove together in the camp; 11 And the Israelitish woman's son blasphemed the name of the Lord, and cursed. And they brought him unto Moses: (and his mother's name was Shelomith, the daughter of Dibri, of the tribe of Dan:) 12 And they put him in ward, that the mind of the Lord might be shewed them. 13 And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying, 14 Bring forth him that hath cursed without the camp; and let all that heard him lay their hands upon his head, and let all the congregation stone him. 15 And thou shalt speak unto the children of Israel, saying, Whosoever curseth his God shall bear his sin. 16 And he that blasphemeth the name of the Lord, he shall surely be put to death, and all the congregation shall certainly stone him: as well the stranger, as he that is born in the land, when he blasphemeth the name of the Lord, shall be put to death. 17 And he that killeth any man shall surely be put to death. 18 And he that killeth a beast shall make it good; beast for beast. 19 And if a man cause a blemish in his neighbour; as he hath done, so shall it be done to him; 20 Breach for breach, eye for eye, tooth for tooth: as he hath caused a blemish in a man, so shall it be done to him again. 21 And he that killeth a beast, he shall restore it: and he that killeth a man, he shall be put to death. 22 Ye shall have one manner of law, as well for the stranger, as for one of your own country: for I am the Lord your God. 23 And Moses spake to the children of Israel, that they should bring forth him that had cursed out of the camp, and stone him with stones. And the children of Israel did as the Lord commanded Moses.

What is your Favorite verse(s):

13 And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying, 14 Bring forth him that hath cursed without the camp; and let all that heard him lay their hands upon his head, and let all the congregation stone him.

Explain in your own words what you just read.

The lamps in the tabernacle – standing on the solid gold lampstand (Exodus 25:31-40) – were the only source of light for the tabernacle. These lamps had to be constantly cared for, supplied with pure olive oil and their wicks trimmed. This care made the lamps burn continually.

Commitment / what will i do : I will let my light from the oil lamps shined continually

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ask-the-greatest-show · 6 years

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When Caroline Turns Seventeen

Charity, kicking in the door at a God-Awful hour, blaring Dancing Queen by ABBA: HAPPY BIRTHDAY

Caroline: Jesus CHRIST MOM WHY

#source: my mother at 2:11 am this morning #the greatest showman #ask the greatest show #tgs #charity barnum #michelle williams #austyn johnson #caroline barnum #17 #seventeen #abba #dancing queen #young and sweet #only seventeen #our charity is seventeen now

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oro-e-diamanti · 3 years

Text

Quiet Music: Capriccio (Chapter 4)

In collaboration with @bethanysnow whose ask box is always open for questions, comments, and anything else about this story as well!

Catching the small flames of romance, starting to get turned on higher. They have a tour to do, right? Not spend all their time making goo-goo eyes at each other.....unless?

Content | Fluff

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word Count | 8274

Taglist | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitermoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you@vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @dacey0eg @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @bookish0918 @mehrmonga @kanevill @butterfly-skinnylegend @lidiyabest @ccweasley @bluscryn @deluxeplanteater @ohtorchio @bidet-and-legolas @maybanksslut @katyldamusic @fedorable-killjoys

***

"Thomas," Y/n stared down as he entered the bus. "When I gave you my personal number it was meant for emergencies, not you texting me because you forgot what "sempiternal" means in the middle of the night. What were you reading anyway?!"

"Nothing." Thomas looked up at her from where he was sitting, wide eyes, feigning innocence.

Y/n shook her head, not believing the guitarist and his horrible poker face, but not being bothered enough to question him any further either. “Well, next time you have a question like that in the middle of the night, ask google instead.” She gave him a warm smile and a little pat on the head as she passed him by, moving down the hallway of the tour bus.

It had become a routine for her to stop at the stove first, starting the coffee for everyone, then having a look around as she was waiting for it to boil. Damiano was slumped over on a couch, his head in his hand and still half asleep. She wondered how little rest he had gotten last night, after meeting him out on the balcony at 2 am.

Had he stayed awake for hours, like she had? Had he been thinking about her, the way she had been thinking about him? He had flirted quite heavily last night and she wasn’t sure whether to attribute it to his sleepiness, or if he had meant it at all. She wasn’t quite sure what she was hoping for either. He was insanely attractive, and the attention he gave her made her heart beat in ways no other man had managed to do before. But this wasn’t the time or situation to turn into a bundle of nerves because of a boy.

Even if her brain had decided to play fantasies of him storming into her hotel room last night. Demanding to kiss her. Holding her face in his hands. Looking at her with those dark, hazel eyes, like she was the only person in the world. Probably smelling of sleep and cigarettes and all that made him inherently Damiano. She knew the smell well, it had been haunting her all throughout this whole fucking tour. But the fantasies kept coming, imagining him in love with her, even if she never truly believed in it. It was a nice idea, nothing more.

The sharp hiss of the coffee pot pulled her out of his thoughts and woke up Damiano from his half-slumber. Tired eyes trying to make out the source of the noise, smiling slightly when realising that caffeine was coming his way. Y/n quickly moved to get his cup ready, preparing it the way she had already learned he preferred. He readily held out his hand for the beverage, fingers briefly touching. She almost dropped it as sparks ran through her. She wasn’t sure if he had felt the same or simply hid it better. But as soon as the cup was safely in his hands, she turned back around. Back to the stove to take a deep breath and continue her morning routine.

I need to get over myself. This is a job. Getting fluttery over your boss is not gonna help get the job done. Ignore him. He didn’t feel anything. You need to work. Not imagine something that is never gonna happen. It's not gonna happen, Y/n.

She made quick work depositing the other mugs to Victoria and Thomas, before finding Ethan in the very back of the bus. Drum sticks in hands and absentmindedly tapping a beat on the table in front of him.

“Coffee?”

“Yeah, thank you,” he answered, absentmindedly. “Hey, Y/n, does this sound good to you?”

Ethan started to play out a beat, effectively ignoring the cup that had been placed on the table, as she sat down beside him to listen.

“I’m no musician, but it certainly sounds good to my ears!”

Ethan gave her a proud smile, putting his drumsticks to the side for a second to take a sip from his drink. Y/n, grabbed them immediately, beating randomly on the table.

“You know what? I may have to take you up on your offer of teaching me to play. Love how you guys always have stuff around, you’re just constantly thinking about music. I wish I knew how to play," she sighed.

“I can show you a bit of drumming right now, if you’d like?” He offered. “Just a bit of a rhythm on the table right here.”

He moved closer to her, taking her hands in his as she kept holding onto the sticks and tried to get her to play a little, easy beat, but the angle was awkward and her wrist was bent too much to properly tap along.

“Okay, this isn’t working,” he laughed. “Would you mind, um, moving between my legs?”

Y/n could feel another blush coming on. It may be just Ethan, but it IS Ethan and Ethan sure is pretty. She studied his face, unassuming, nothing but a welcoming smile. But she felt odd. She had only been working for this band for a few days, yet she’d already grown closer to them than any other client she had worked with before. Normally she’d do her job, get a quick thank you on the way out, and then just retire somewhere. Do uni work, wait for further instructions. This whole thing was new and as much as she was enjoying it, she wasn’t sure if she was crossing lines she shouldn’t as a personal assistant. Then again, what was the harm in a little lesson? It wasn’t like there was anything else to it. This wasn’t him trying to flirt with her, this was him trying to be a friend. She could do with a friend.

With a quick nod, she moved and sat down on the floor in front of Ethan. Nestling between his legs as he held her hand. Helping her get into position before backing up a little to give her more space. Grabbing her hands again with the sticks to demonstrate how she was supposed to hold and then hit the table. He leaned over her to watch what she was doing. She understood quickly, getting the hang of it and before she knew it Ethan had let go of her hands as she was successfully keeping the rhythm going.

“See? Natural talent,” he laughed behind her.

Neither of them had noticed Damiano walk down the corridor towards them until he stopped in the doorway.

“Ah, Dami! Look what Ethan taught me!” Y/n starts repeating the little rhythm with the biggest smile on her face, proud of herself and what she’d learned in such a short time. Ethan leant back, watching her with a smile.

“Good job, Y/n. Keep going and you might replace Edgar soon,” Damiano said, ducking into the bathroom with a laugh.

Y/n watched him disappear. Her heart fluttered as he left her sight. If he could just not be my boss, that’d be fucking great…

She stood back up to sit next to Ethan on the couch, shaking the thought off. “I see why you like drumming, it’s fun.”

“Thank you, I think so too. You enjoy being our assistant, by the way?” Ethan asked, looking at her inquisitively while finally continuing to drink his coffee.

“Actually, yes. Best job I have ever taken. I know your manager is an absolutely wonderful woman. Didn’t know she planned this position for me originally though, kinda scared me to be honest.”

“Are we scary?”

“No, no. You’re all lovely. You are the biggest group I’ve worked for so far, so there’s that. But…” Y/n moved to sit on her leg now, leaning closer to Ethan, starting to feel more comfortable around him. “You four are indescribably amazing people. My mum would probably call you ‘people after God’s heart’,” she imitated her mother’s Northern accent, making Ethan laugh.

“Shocking, I know, that we’re normal!”

Y/n smacked his chest.

“No! You are far better than anyone- no one on this bus is ‘normal’.”

“Even the driver?”

“Especially the driver.”

***

Damiano hadn’t meant to listen in, but standing behind the slightly closed door of the restroom, he couldn’t help himself, even if it was killing him. Ethan and Y/n would probably be really good for each other… The thought flashed through him. No. It wouldn’t happen. Not under his watch.

Last night had been a blessing and a curse. After finishing his smoke, he had stood out on the balcony for a little longer, imagining the conversations they would have been having if she had stayed out with him. Under the moonlight. Måneskin. Her hair down, she would probably go get another glass of wine. Coming back out to see him.

“What about you, amore mio? Working on more Shakespeare?”

“Yes. Always. I work hard for things I want, you know me. All work no play makes Y/n a happy girl,” she would snicker into her wine glass.

“What if I wanted you. What would I have to do? Never been shy about ... hard… work, either…”

“Why don’t you come and find out, the door is unlocked…”

With a heavy sigh, he moved to the sink to splash some water on his face, raking it through his hair. It was only early in the morning, he didn’t need to unscrew his head just yet. She was just a girl. Just some girl that worked for them. There were so many people on the team, she was simply one of them. But she was also a woman, with wants and needs and desires, and oh, how he would love to attend to every single one of them… Maybe I could be a need for her, for the beautiful woman just one room over. He screamed internally. He was done for.

***

By the time Y/n left Ethan to his coffee, Damiano was back on the couch with a pen and paper, gears visibly turning in his head. He didn’t even look up when she entered. See, just a guy, Y/n thought. Victoria was busy bickering with the driver about wanting to stop at a service station within the next hour. Thomas was scrolling through his phone absent-mindedly.

As soon as Vic had finished her conversation, she walked over to where Y/n was sitting, letting herself drop onto the seat next to her heavily, laying her head on her shoulder. “Y/n I want snacks.”

“I bought snacks, they’re in the cupboard.”

“But, fun snacks! Like you,” the bassist winked.

“As much as I love the compliment, Victoria, I am sure the driver will take us to the next petrol station after hearing your plea.” She kissed the top of the blonde’s head. “You can survive a little longer without sugary snacks.”

Victoria looked up at her with big blue eyes, wrapping her arms around the assistant. “But what if I can’t, Y/n,” she whined, pulling a dramatic pose. “What if I waste away without fun snacks.”

“Vic, love, nothing here will make you die because you haven’t had food. I provided all of you with breakfast - it was your decision to let Thomas eat yours.”

“And I don’t regret a thing!” Thomas shouted from his seat, all three of them breaking out into laughter. Y/n grinned, eyes falling back onto some of the papers in front of her, ready to get back into work. Victoria’s arm looped around Y/n’s as she snuggled into her shoulder with a pitiful sigh.

***

Goddamnit, not her, too.

Damiano had meant to start writing some more, lyrics and words and images flowing through his head in a chaos that needed to be tamed by pen and paper. But as soon as he had sat down Victoria had started moaning about snacks and her little interaction with Y/n had taken up all of the brain space the lyrics should have. His eyes kept focusing on the closeness between the two of them. The way Vic leant her head on Y/n’s shoulder, the way she in turn kissed the bassist’s head. So far he had only considered Ethan to be a concern. But now the thought of Victoria herself meddling was increasingly growing. So she might have had a boyfriend but that had been, what? Years ago? She had said? And the guy had been a dick. What if she’d just given up on men completely, deciding to exclusively date girls from now on? Fuck.

Staring at the way Victoria was now cuddling her, his thoughts ran wild. Was this still friendly? Was the smile she was giving Vic flirty? Maybe she hadn’t been returning his flirtations the way he’d been hoping because it was Vic she was interested in, not him?

Dwelling on these thoughts wasn’t going to help. Jealousy, envy, insecurity… as interesting as they would be as drag names, they weren’t going to solve the issue. Damiano felt stuck. Making heart eyes at a girl who was three feet away while she was none the wiser. Yet it was Victoria latching onto her arm. He wasn’t surprised. She was gorgeous, and funny, and cared about people. And Vic had a lot of good qualities he himself didn’t possess. Maybe it’s the boobs? His brain mused, but he shook it off. That wasn’t it, he was sure of it.

***

Victoria studies Damiano. His face would have been unreadable to anyone else, obviously lost in his thought. But she knew him well enough to understand that the look on his face was one of insecurity and upset. Not necessarily at anything in particular, just upset. Her eyes softened. Raising a brow at the singer. He simply shrugged, shaking his head, then taking the notebook he was carrying everywhere. Opening it up, staring at the words written there, but not adding anything. Yet his eyes never stopped flicking away to everyone else around him, obviously restless. What was up with him? If there was one thing Victoria hated it was one of her friends feeling off and her not being able to do anything about it. But she knew Damiano, and she knew it could be hard to get him to budge if he didn’t want to talk.

As their eyes met once more, she took the chance to mouth at him, “You alright?”

His eyes flashed at Y/n for a split second, he probably hadn’t even noticed it himself, before nodding with a tight-lipped smile, then looking back down at his pages. That was when it finally clicked in Victoria’s mind. It was about her. And from the looks he kept secretly giving her, the problem wasn’t dislike.

***

“SNACKS!” Victoria and Thomas all but yelled as the bus pulled into the parking lot of a little petrol station. The band ran out of the bus, stumbling over each other like a hoard of kindergartners, and Y/n couldn’t help but smirk at their behaviour. Following them in a much more composed manner.

By the time she entered the shop, all four members of the band had dispersed into different corners. Trying to figure out what to buy. Damiano was holding up two chocolate bars, obviously trying to decipher what the difference was with no knowledge of Swedish whatsoever, before shrugging his shoulders and taking both.

Y/n was still in the doorway, grabbing a basket and consulting a little list on her phone. As much as she loved to let them run wild, she would not completely have them overdose on sugar. No matter how much they wanted to. She still felt responsible for their wellbeing, even on their days off. Juice felt like a sensible choice.

Suddenly, she saw a hand appear from behind her, casually taking out some orange juice from her basket. She turned around in surprise, only to be faced with Thomas looking at her with wide eyes, obviously feeling caught.

“No healthy stuff from the petrol station!” He suddenly shouted, grabbing her whole basket now and running away with it.

“Thomas!” She flew after him before she knew what she was doing, almost running over Ethan as she chased the guitarist through the little store. With not much space available, they ended up going round and round one of the shelves, until Thomas unceremoniously crashed into a cooler when he didn’t manage to take a turn in time. Trying to bite back a smile, Y/n walked over, breathlessly asking him if he was alright, as laughter still bubbled out of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Victoria, giggling away, phone pointed towards them.

“Oh no, you’re not putting that on the internet!” Y/n pointed a finger at her in what she hoped was an authoritative gesture, but Victoria wasn’t impressed.

“Too late!” She squealed as she skipped away, out of reach, to pay for whatever she had picked out.

Thomas had gotten back up on his feet in the meantime, contents of the basket still spilled all around him, sporting a pout.

“Stop it with that face,” Y/n scolded, but she couldn’t keep the smile at bay. “Go pick out your favourite snack, you can add it to my basket.”

Thomas happily skipped away as Y/n quickly picked up the mess, then moved to another aisle finding Damiano there. He seemed to be debating over the crisps now, having moved on from the chocolate bars.

She stood to the side, her eyes flashing over him a couple more times than necessary. He was just too pretty. It was simply impossible to look away. Even now, no fancy clothes, no stage makeup, no grand performance, he was mesmerising.

Her brain couldn’t help itself, images and ideas flashing in front of her eyes. Going to a petrol station on road trips with their future kids. Them bouncing around, chasing each other over a candy bar. Her and Damiano trying to get them not to cause a mess, slightly annoyed, but always laughing along with them.

She looked at him again. In a blink, the daydream changed.

It’s past midnight. He’s in the same sweatshirt he’s wearing right now. Her arms wrapped around his torso. Looking up at that beautiful face of his. Him picking up condoms from the health section. Winking at her with that certain glint in his eyes. Smacking her arse on the way to the cashier. Filled with giggles and flirtatious glances and knowing what the night ahead would entail. The anticipation crackling around them.

Oh, to be that girl. The girl he looks at with lustful eyes. The one he wasn't to make a baby with. Not the one to be ashamed of.

***

Damiano had chosen what kind of crisps to buy long ago. He simply was too busy staring back at Y/n, who seemed to be lost in thought. Eyes focused on him, yet apparently not noticing him looking back. He could basically see the gears in her head turning, mouth slightly open, far away in her mind.

Whatever enraptured that beautiful mind of hers… He wanted to know - could he be that very thing someday? Be so involved in her thoughts that it caused her to finally slow down? Get her to relax. He kept daydreaming about the massage he had given her the other day. How she had melted into his touch. He wanted that again. But more. He wanted her sighs and her moans as he worked her body in any way she would let him. Hell, he’d be her personal roadie if she wanted.

Fuck, he was smitten. She was always so strong-willed, so passionate. That night on the balcony had done nothing to help his fantasies. Her teaching him how to dance? Bodies close to each other, breathing the same air… Whatever perfume she used, he wanted to drown in it.

***

Victoria had been on the way back out, snacks acquired, Instagram story uploaded, and ready to head back to the bus for the last two hours of the ride. However, she stopped dead in her tracks when Y/n and Damiano caught her eye. Both of them were staring at the other, yet neither seemed to realise it. Just lost in their own worlds. Vic frowned, not oblivious to the dreamy look on Y/n’s face or the way Damiano’s eyes kept flicking up and down their assistant’s body. Something was definitely going on here and she was determined to find out what exactly it was.

After Y/n had finally moved again, paying for the snacks, Victoria caught up with her outside the shop. Their driver was having a smoke, surely had more than enough time left for a little talk.

“Y/n, wait up,” Vic quickly jogged up to her, taking the shopping bag out of her hand and carrying it into the bus ahead of her.. “Let me help you.”

She was counting on the guys to be staying outside for a little longer, probably lighting up a cigarette each as soon as they were done snack-shopping.

“So…” She started, putting away the snacks alongside Y/n. “Saw you staring at Damiano in there.”

Great, this wasn’t subtle at all, she scowled at herself. Tact had never been her strong suit in these situations. She was far more likely to rush into a conversation, head first, too open, too honest, too soon.

“I- uh- I don’t know what you mean. I was probably just staring off into space.”

Okay, she was getting flustered. Victoria knew she was onto something here, but it wouldn’t be easy to get anything out of Y/n. She was way too professional and… uptight for that. And they didn’t exactly have any red wine on tap to get her to open up.

“You know, there’s no harm in it. He’s a very attractive man,” she said, playfully nudging Y/n’s side. “Pretty sure everyone’s had the hots for him at some point.”

“Well I haven’t, it's very unprofessional.” Y/n stubbornly replied and Victoria almost laughed out loud.

Sure, she hadn’t. That’s why she was staring at him like he was a drink of water in the middle of a desert. Or why she was getting all flustered every time he touched her. Or why she always seemed to gravitate towards him, whatever she was doing. But that wasn’t what Vic was going to say. It wouldn’t get them anywhere. She had learned that much about Y/n.

“All my friends used to have a crush on him in school,” Vic laughed, remembering their beginnings. “They’d just hang out whenever we were rehearsing, making heart eyes at him and complimenting his every move, but he never cared. He never even looked at them, just giving them a polite hello. Never paid them any attention because he was way too focused on the music we were making. He’s always been like that. Music has always come first. It’s why I think it’s so peculiar how interested he is in you.”

If Y/n had been flustered before, she was full-on blushing now, rapidly opening a random cabinet to hide her face, but Victoria had seen. Her eyes got wide, as if she had been struck by lightning.

“He’s not interested in me, don’t be silly. I work for him just as I work for you and we all get along. Nothing is going to happen if that is what you are worried about. I would never jeopardize the tour or our friendship. He doesn’t even see me like that, anyway, so it’s fine. It’s not like I’m his type, and like, I mean-”

“Hey,” Victoria turned more serious now. As much as she enjoyed teasing her new friend, she felt like she needed to let her know that she wasn’t kidding in this case. She put a tentative hand on her shoulder. Having the other turn around to have Y/n face her. “I’m serious though. I know it’s early days, but if you feel something for him? I’m not going to stop you. Neither is anyone else on this tour. He’s a great guy. And I’ll personally punch him if he isn’t. And I think you’re great Y/n. You deserve good things.”

For a second, Victoria could see a flicker of Y/n’s softer side, of her vulnerability. She felt compelled to pull her into a hug, but she feared making her uncomfortable, so instead, she simply pretended she hadn’t seen. Just like she pretended not to hear Y/n’s voice breaking just the tiniest bit when she said, “Thank you.”

***

The old town of Malmö was full of cobblestone, canals, and adorable old houses. When Y/n led them into the restaurant she had reserved for the evening, Damiano made sure to ask for a table by the window, enamoured by what looked to be the main square of the town and the people hurrying along. As he turned back towards the table, he noticed Y/n with a similar look on her face. Chin held up by her hand as she leaned on the table, watching the world pass by outside. A serene smile played on her face and he feared he was mirroring her expression when Victoria kicked his foot from under the table. Giving him a knowing smile and a raised brow. He shook his head, quickly grasping the menu to distract himself.

“Oooh happy hour!” Victoria squealed. “First round of cocktails is on me!”

Damiano almost let out a sigh - knowing fully well that when it came to an evening like this, they would not stop at a round or two. He was to be proven right.

About two hours later, the sun was on the verge of setting. There was a nice buzz going on, dinner eaten, while the drinks kept coming. Thomas was retelling a story Damiano had heard about a hundred times. Excitedly waving his hands around he only just managed to grasp one of the glasses before the guitarist knocked it over. Y/n was listening attentively - the only one out of the bunch to not have heard Thomas’ retelling before. Damiano couldn’t help but notice how her cheeks were slightly flushed, a sure sign that she’d had a drink. He thought she looked adorable. She’d look just as adorable under me. He quickly put the thought away, blaming it on the alcohol he had consumed. Apart from Y/n - who had been responsible enough to switch back and forth between cocktails and water - they were all on the edge of being drunk, laughing too loudly, talking too excitedly, being a little too affectionate.

It’s what he blamed his behaviour on, when he found his foot searching for hers under the table. Giving her just the slightest, playful kick to get her attention. She looked at him immediately, raised eyebrows, obviously wondering if he had touched her by mistake. So this time, he fully smirked, holding eye contact, as he nudged her again. A timid smile appeared on her face and he was convinced that she would be awkward. Pulling back, possibly scolding him any other time. But her slightly intoxicated state seemed to leave her more open to his teasing. He barely believed it when she nudged him back. Maybe we’re actually getting somewhere here.

“Um, excuse me?”

The whole table looked up at once at the timid voice. Only to find two young girls awkwardly and uncomfortable standing next to them, faces as red as tomatoes and eyes wide.

“Are you Måneskin?”

“We are, actually!” Victoria beamed, immediately getting up. “Do you guys want some pictures?”

The girls didn’t seem to manage anything but hectic nods, too excited and overwhelmed. Damiano smiled. It didn’t matter how big they were getting - having people coming up to them to ask for photos, so obviously in love with them. Still made his heart beat like crazy. He’d do anything for the fans.

Quickly, getting up from his chair as well, he pulled the other two along with him, taking a few photos with the two, exchanging some words and thanking them for their support. Looking back at Y/n, he noticed she was getting a bit nervous.

“Guys, we should probably move back to the hotel now,” she said and it was only then that he took a look around and saw the amount of people staring. Talking and pointing phones at them. It was obvious none of them were actual fans - just hoping to get a glimpse of something to put on their social media. Damiano nodded, rounding up the rest of his band and leading them out of the restaurant, ready to call for a taxi as Y/n went to settle the tab and then followed them outside mere seconds later.

“Right let’s get you back to the hotel,” Y/n decided as they finally managed to flag down a taxi. “But don’t worry, the night’s not over yet - bring your swimsuits, I’ve got a little surprise for you.”

***

Y/n was perched on a little tiled bench, laptop with work opened at her side. A bluetooth speaker ready nearby. She’d slipped the girl at the reception a little money and a signed picture of the band, which she had gratefully taken, to make sure they’d have the hotel pool to themselves that night. Y/n was aware that the band tended to really enjoy a nice dip in the water and she was determined she’d get them to let loose and relax a bit before more gigs were coming their way.

She didn’t notice that everyone had arrived until a flash of blond ran past her and jumped into a pool with a massive splash. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that Thomas would announce his presence like this. She still flinched for a second. Ethan followed not much later, with Victoria opting for the stairs ‘for hair-related reasons’ and Damiano pushing her in anyways. Following swiftly himself, as she grabbed his hand as she was falling. Y/n shook her head, amused at the four, and turned on some music as she watched them.

She couldn’t help but smile at the way they all acted like little kids on a pool day. But behaviour was one thing - the way they looked was quite another. Water was running down their bodies… okay, one body in particular. She would be lying if she said that Damiano swimming around in nothing but his little shorts wasn’t… well, breathtaking. Tattoos on full display, hair wet, glistening skin. He was smiling, laughing, trying to outswim Thomas. The way his physique moved through the water… He was in formidable shape. What she would give to be manhandled by this man.

Him pinning her to a wall, smirking, looking down at her like he was going to eat her. He rightfully just might. Telling her all the dirty thoughts he had when on stage. Making her look away in a blush, but grabbing her face. Tsk-ing, ‘no, no, no, good girls look at who is speaking to them’.

But no. Work called her name, just loudly enough to pull her out of her fantasy.

***

Opening the laptop, she immediately seemed to get immersed in her work. Damiano watched her with a frown on his face. This was so like her - making sure everyone else got taken care of and was having a good time, only to withdraw and bury her in her work again. He wished she’d take more breaks to just enjoy.

Every now and then she looked away from the screen, watching what everyone else was doing and contently smiling to herself. He couldn’t help imagining her watching over him the same way with their kids. His head was running away with the idea.

Him splashing around with the children. Her watching over them, staying on the sidelines, smiling the way she was now. Making sure everyone was safe and happy. Snacks in hand. Their daughter climbing out of the water, running over to her. The way her eyes would light up, arms open wide, not caring about getting wet as she hugged her. He knew she’d be the most perfect mum, just from looking at her. Nothing had ever been as obvious to him.

A splash of water over his head pulled him out of his thoughts. Apparently, Ethan had caught him staring. He shrugged it off.

“Y/n! Come swim with us!” Victoria called, moving to the edge of the pool. The assistant did nothing but raise a brow at the request, shaking her head.

“You kids go have fun,” she laughed. “I’m fine here, doing a bit of work. Just because you got a day off, doesn’t mean I do too!”

“Ah, you’re no fun, Y/n. One night won’t kill you,” Thomas groaned, diving back under the water.

“Well, I didn’t even bring my swimsuit, so it’s out of the question anyway. Now let me do some work.” She tried to sound strict but the giggle bubbled in her voice anyway, still tiny traces of intoxication in her speech. Damiano grinned at the thought of her still being tipsy, slightly wondering if it’d give him the chance to get her to let her guard down the way she had done the night before.

“Oh, rubbish, you party pooper!” Vic shouted back. “Your underwear will do just fine, it’s not like anyone is here to tell you off.”

Y/n shot a look at Victoria. A blush that definitely wasn’t caused by alcohol crept onto her face.

“I’m alright, you have fun.”

Damiano’s head spun, looking at Y/n sitting on the bench. The sheer idea of her joining them like that? Potentially seeing her undress? He was more than glad the water was hiding the lower half of his body.

“Get over here now or we’re dragging you in!” Thomas threatened, already halfway through heaving himself out of the water.

Oh, no way I’m getting out of the water right now, not like this.

“Oh fine! Fine, fine. If it will make you all stop worrying about me ‘not having fun’,” she laughed.” She rolled her trousers up as she moved to the edge of the pool, kicked off her shoes, and let her legs dangle in the water as she sat down. “Happy?”

“For now,” Vic laughed. “But don’t think you’ll always get out of things this easily!”

“Oh come on guys, leave her be.” Ethan decided to be the voice of reason once again. He swam up to her, hair all piled on top of his head in a bun. “Sorry about them - they don’t know when to quit.”

Y/n giggled at his comment.

“It’s cool, nice seeing everyone have a good time though.” Y/n tilted her head for a moment, looking at Ethan. Slowly she raised a hand to hold his face still, the other hand pulling something out of his hair. “There you go. Can’t have fuzz in those luscious locks of yours!”

A scowl appeared on Damiano’s face. He knew he shouldn’t be feeling like this, but the way she was looking at Ethan right now, that soft touch, made all the fantasies in his head shatter for a moment. Why wasn’t she fixing his hair instead. Fuck, he was being stupid. His attention was drawn away from the pair as a loud squeal escaped Victoria, who was currently being wrestled in the water by Thomas.

“Don’t you dare dunk me!”

Damiano didn’t even have to watch to know what happened next. A second later, a spluttering Vic emerged, a murderous look in her eye as she dunked Thomas in return. Their little fight turned chaotic, ending with the top of her bikini slowly floating away from her.

“Aw Vic, do you always have to be topless?!” Thomas laughed loudly.

“You dick! You untied it!”

Y/n instantly covered her eyes, avoiding Victoria’s half-naked body at all costs, looking down at her lap.

“Um - maybe someone should, uh, give her her top back?” She stammered.

Vic looked at the blushing girl, a smirk growing on her face as she whispered something at Thomas, pointing at Y/n, obviously hatching a plan. She swam up to their friend, gently grabbing her legs under the water.

“You are the only one that seems to mind, amore… Do you not like my tits?” Victoria teased, cocking her head to the side as she tried to catch Y/n’s eyes.

“No! No, I mean- That’s not what I mean. Um… I don’t know - is it just me or is it hot in here?” Y/n was a mess, tripping over her words.

“The only one that’s hot here is you, Y/n,” Thomas grinned, swimming off to retrieve Vic’s top, which he handed to her as he came back. The blonde held it up to her boobs in a fake-clumsy way, big eyes looking up at Y/n.

“Oh, I think I’m going to need your help with this, Y/n. Mind tying me up?”

Y/n looked like she was about to explode, her face once again covered in a deep red. With slightly shaking fingers, she moved forwards as Vic turned her back towards her, fumbling with the strings around her neck and her back to tie them up.

“Thanks, babe, you’re a doll!” Victoria grinned, taking the assistant’s hand and leaving a little kiss on her knuckles. It was the point at which Damiano decided he’d definitely need to protect her from his bandmates. If anything, it was his time to bother Y/n now.

As Damiano swam over, Y/n was still bright red. Her head was still lowered, picking at her nail polish, as she squeaked out a “hi”. You’ve got to put on the charm now, you can do it, he said in his head, hyping himself up as he looked back at her. He didn’t want to bring her into even more of an awkward situation, but his hands were on her legs before he even noticed, slightly stroking along the curve of her calves under the water.

“Don’t mind those fools,” he told her in a voice low enough that they wouldn’t hear. “They’re just trying to rile you up because they like seeing you blush. It is a nice sight, to be fair. Seeing you blush.”

“Well, it’s not like I have control over that. Um. Y-you look cool… I mean - good. You know? … fucking hell.” She buried her face in her hands, stifling a flustered chuckle. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I apologise, I will just hide now, forever.”

Yet, the smile on her face hadn’t left since Damiano had arrived. She bit her lip nervously, looking at the singer. Staring at him, maybe trying to figure out what his intentions were. He wished he knew. “Your, uh… eyes… they’re pretty.”

“Don’t even think about ever hiding that face from me, yeah?” He pulled her hands back down as she once again attempted to cover herself. He briefly forgot his hands were wet, until she giggled and patted her own dry on her shirt as he let go. “Your eyes are really pretty too, Y/n, so don’t deprive me of them.”

She blinked a couple of times, taken aback by what he had said. “Alright, I can do that.” She barely noticed they were holding hands. Rubbing her thumb over his skin softly, keeping herself grounded in place by the heat his body gave off under the water. “You just gotta step in when they start taking the piss again, yeah?”

He moved in closer now, only letting go of her hands to grasp onto her thighs, trying to keep himself above water. He was desperate to move between her legs, but he wasn’t going to ruin the moment by taking it too far. Not yet. “Of course. But amore mio, what if I wanted to, uh, ‘take the piss’?”

She smirked. “Oh! Then that’s fine.”

Damiano was sure his heart wasn’t even beating anymore, it was fluttering. There was something about her… every time he watched her, talked to her, he felt like he was looking at her for the first time. Finding a new side to her. He wanted more, constantly craving to get closer, and in moments like these. When she let him in just a little bit, made him feel like he was just one small step above the others, he felt like it was all going to be worth it. The slow way he was working himself into her heart.

“Y/N HAS A TATTOO ON HER ANKLE!” Thomas suddenly shouted, popping out of the water and pointing at the assistant. Damiano was pushed out of the way by Victoria, who grabbed Y/n’s leg. Hoisting it up in the air, turning it to show her ankle. A black outlined hand giving the middle finger with long black nails stared back at the band.

“That is really pretty,” Ethan said softly, but Victoria scoffed

“Pretty? It’s fucking cool! See,” she turned back to Y/n, “you are rock ‘n’ roll!”

Damiano stared at the little drawing on her leg, fascinated to have found yet another side to her he hadn’t seen coming. He wondered if she would let him tattoo her one day, letting him grab her leg, smoothing over the skin, putting that kind of trust in him. He was determined to find out, sooner or later.

“I mean... you think you’re the only ones with tattoos?” Y/n smirked, almost in a cocky way. It was a good look on her. “That one hurt like a bitch-”

“That one?” Damiano threw in. “Does that mean there’s more?”

Looking over at him, she simply smiled, shaking her head. “Anyway, it’s late, we should be going to bed soon. I know - I’m not trying to parent you, but somebody’s gotta be responsible here!” She stood up, fixing her trousers, putting her shoes back on, and grabbing towels to pass around. “Come on, out of the pool. Comply and I will get you something special with your coffee tomorrow!”

***

After everyone had retired to their rooms, Victoria decided she needed another talk. Moving along the hotel corridor, she stopped in front of Damiano’s door, softly knocking. He opened hastily, his face dropping ever so slightly as he saw her.

“Not who you were expecting?” She asked with a smirk as she pushed past him into the room. She was glad they’d all gotten their own rooms for the night and didn’t have to share - no need to involve Ethan or Thomas in the little conversation she was aiming to have with Damiano. Victoria dropped down onto the bed, kicking her shoes off and getting comfortable, as the singer followed.

“What can I do for you?” Damiano asked, shutting the door behind her.

“How about explaining why you were all over Y/n in the pool?” A grin spread on her face. She knew she’d have to be much less careful with Damiano than she had been in the conversation with Y/n, but still needed him to know this was good-natured teasing. “Pretty touchy, if you ask me.”

“Well, we were talking. Don’t need to tell you everything I do.” He flopped onto the bed, grabbing a pillow to smother his face into. “Why?”

“Yes you do, I’m one of your best friends!” She didn’t hesitate in grabbing the second pillow to whack him over the head, before putting it back behind herself to lean against. “Just interested to know what you think of her. You know, because I’m your friend and I care. And I’m nosey, so spill.”

He started groaning into the pillow.

“If I told you I think I like her, would you shut up about it?” He turned his head to the side to look at the blonde. “I don’t know, Vic, she walked into our lives and…” His eyes grew distant as he thought about her.

“Wait, you actually like like her? I was thinking you were just attracted, you know the thrill of the chase and all that. Fuck, Damiano!” Her smile came back tenfold. “I love this!”

He shot up from his lying position. “No! No, you don’t love this! I don’t love this! I have no fucking clue what I’m doing! She is so sweet and kind and sensitive and I can’t stop thinking about her, it’s turning me into a brain-dead zombie. I could never actually win her over, I fuck up so much and- … I talk too much don’t I?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so flustered!” Victoria remarked in amazement. “You’re actually, properly, crushing on her! You should tell her.” She almost added if only for my amusement but decided against it. This was obviously tormenting him already, no need for her to rub it in.

“I��m not gonna tell her shit! She’s our assistant, for god’s sake. I already could be in so much trouble if she took something I said wrong. I could fall flat on my face and- … Vic, I know that you care and you want me to be happy. Which I love and appreciate. We are best friends, we really are. I would do the same thing if you had a crush on someone, but I just don’t know what to do,” he moans, falling back onto the bed. “I haven’t been like this since school.”

Victoria patted his head in sympathy as he buried his face back into the pillow. She wasn’t quite sure what to advise him in this situation. Sure, she would love to see her friend happy. And there was definitely something cooking under the surface of Y/n’s feelings. And, honestly, the thought of the two of them together? She was basically swooning at the thought. But she also knew it wasn’t her place to meddle. Right?

“I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. I don’t wanna scare her away.” He looked at Victoria with pleading eyes. “Has she talked to you at all? Have you picked up anything from her? Any hints?”

A sigh escaped her lips, but she knew she couldn’t help but give him at least a little push in what she hoped was the right direction. “Look, Damiano. I’m not gonna pretend like I didn’t notice she fancies you. Honestly, no surprise there. But I think we both know she’s not exactly the type to jump right into bed with someone. So take it slow. Show her you care. Woo her.”

“Woo her?! Like an old Italiano romance? I can do that… I think. Okay, what does she like… Y/n, what does she- She doesn’t really talk about herself that much, does she..” Victoria could see the gears turning in his head. “This was so much easier when I wasn’t invested… Why do I have to be invested, Vic?”

He looked at her with dopey eyes, before jumping up and pacing around the room. “Argh! She is making me go insane! I tried writing lyrics, but nothing is working. I just can’t focus when she’s around. She gets this look, especially when talking about her work and language.. At the pool, did you see how she looked at me?”

“You’ve written lyrics?! Now, you really got it bad, my friend,” Victoria shook her head in amusement. “But yes, I did. I told you, she’s interested. Can’t tell you how deep that runs, I’ve only known her for a few days myself and she is working for us, no way to ignore that. So maybe take a step back until you figure this out?”

“Yeah, you’re right. She works for us. That’s… that’s a giant, neon ‘no’.” He stopped walking, looking out of the window. “I need to cool it, don’t I? We’re on tour. What am I doing! We have fans and people who are looking forward to seeing us. We have gigs to play! Fuck.” He sighed, staring off into the distance. “We should probably sleep. No long drive tomorrow, but lots of interviews, right?”

“Don’t get in over your head about this,” she put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. She hadn’t expected this kind of outburst when she had knocked on his door earlier. “It’s the first week of tour. You got three more of seeing her literally every day. Concentrate on the job, then on her, yeah? Now let’s get some sleep. And I mean it - no pondering and smoking all through the night, you gotta rest!”

“You’re right, I don’t know what I was thinking. Thank you.” He pulled Victoria into a hug. “Thank god you’re here. Wouldn’t know what to do. Goodnight.”

She gave him a little wave as she left his room, only just hearing him mumble, “I have music to perform…”

***

As the night grew to a close, Y/n found herself in her own room, snuggling into a pillow. Glad that the next day would leave less free time. Drive to Copenhagen. Get everyone settled it. Maneuver them from interview to interview, although this time around Victoria would be a great help since she knew Danish. Then off to soundcheck, light dinner, the gig, sleep. No time to get lost in silly daydreams for once.

Yet, as sleep slowly crept up on her, she couldn’t help one last thought entering her mind.

I wonder if he is thinking of me.

#maneskin fiction #damiano david fiction #damiano david imagine #damiano david x you #damiano david x reader #maneskin imagine #maneskin x you #fluff #maneskin x reader #mywriting #bethanysnow #quiet music

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mybeautifulchristianjourney · 2 years

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Samson and Delilah

1 One time Samson went to Gaza. There he saw a prostitute and went to her. 2 The people of Gaza were told, “Samson has come here.” So they surrounded the town and lay in wait for him all night at the city gate, but they relaxed during the night, saying, “Let’s wait for the light of morning. Then we will kill him.”

3 But Samson slept only until midnight. He got up in the middle of the night, grabbed the doors of the city gate along with the two gateposts, pulled them up crossbar and all, set them on his shoulders, and took them up to the top of the hill opposite Hebron.

4 Sometime after that, Samson fell in love with a woman from the Valley of Sorek, whose name was Delilah. 5 The serens of the Philistines approached her and said, “Persuade him to reveal where his great strength comes from and how we may overpower him, tie him up, and humiliate him. Each of us will give you eleven hundred shekels of silver.”

6 So Delilah said to Samson, “Please tell me what the source of your great strength is, and how you can be tied up in order to humiliate you.”

7 Samson answered her, “If anyone ties me up with seven new bowstrings that have not yet been dried, I will become weak and be like any other man.”

8 So the serens of the Philistines brought her seven new bowstrings that had not yet been dried, and she tied him up with them. 9 She had men hiding in the room waiting to ambush Samson, and she said to him, “Philistines are upon you, Samson!” But he snapped the bowstrings as easily as a flax thread that was scorched when brought near fire. So the source of his strength was not revealed.

10 Then Delilah said to Samson, “Look! You made a fool of me and told me lies. Now please tell me how you can be tied up.”

11 Samson answered her, “Actually, if anyone ties me up with new ropes that have never been used for work, I will become weak and be like any other man.”

12 So Delilah took new ropes and tied him up with them. Then she said to him, “Philistines are upon you, Samson!” There were men hiding in the room waiting to ambush Samson, but he tore the ropes off his arms as if they were thread.

13 Delilah said to Samson, “So far you have made a fool of me and told me lies. Tell me how you may be tied up!”

So he said to her, “If you weave the seven locks of my hair into the fabric of a loom ⎣and fasten them with a pin, I will be as weak as any other man.”

After she had waited for him to fall asleep, Delilah took the seven locks of his hair and wove them in the fabric of a loom. 14 She fastened them with the pin and said to him, “Philistines are upon you, Samson!” But Samson woke up from his sleep and pulled out the pin from the loom along with the fabric.

15 She said to him, “How can you say, ‘I love you,’ when your heart is not with me? This makes three times you have made a fool of me, and you have not told me where your great strength comes from.” 16 This was how she tormented him with her words day after day and nagged him until he was sick to death of it.

17 Finally he told her everything in his heart. He said to her, “A razor has never touched my head, because I have been a Nazirite dedicated to God from the womb of my mother. If I am ever shaved, my strength will desert me, and I will become weak and be like any other man.”

18 When Delilah saw that he told her everything in his heart, she sent for the serens of the Philistines, saying, “Come back one more time, for he has poured out his heart to me.”

The serens of the Philistines came up to her and brought the silver in their hands. 19 Delilah let Samson fall asleep on her lap. Then she called for a man and shaved off the seven locks of his head. She began his humiliation, because his strength had left him. 20 She said, “Philistines are upon you, Samson!” He awoke from his sleep and said, “I will go out as I have time after time, and I will shake myself free.” But he did not realize that the Lord had left him.

21 The Philistines seized him, gouged out his eyes, brought him down to Gaza, and restrained him with bronze shackles. He had to grind grain in the prison.

22 But the hair on his head began to grow after it had been shaved.

Samson’s Death

23 Meanwhile, the serens of the Philistines gathered to make a great sacrifice to their god Dagon and to celebrate. They said, “Our god has given our enemy Samson into our hands.”

24 When the people saw him, they praised their god: “Our god has given our enemy into our hands, the devastator of our land, who has caused the death of many of us.”

25 When they were feeling good, they said, “Send for Samson, so that he can provide amusement for us.” They summoned Samson from the prison, and he served as their entertainment.

They made Samson stand between the pillars. 26 He said to the young man who led him by his hand, “Put me where I can touch the pillars that support the building, so I can lean upon them.” 27 The building was full of men and women, as well as all the serens of the Philistines. On the roof were about three thousand more men and women watching Samson as he was amusing them.

28 Samson called out to the Lord. He said, “Lord God, remember me, I pray. Give me strength, I pray, this one more time, O God. Let me get revenge on the Philistines for my two eyes in one act of vengeance.” 29 Samson then grasped the two central pillars supporting the building. He leaned against them, one with his right hand and one with his left. 30 Samson said, “Let me die with the Philistines.” He pushed with all his strength, and the building fell upon the serens and upon all the people who were inside.

The Philistines he put to death when he died were more numerous than those he had put to death during his lifetime.

31 Then his brothers and his father’s entire household went down, carried him back, and buried him between Zorah and Eshtaol in the tomb of Manoah his father. He had served as judge of Israel for twenty years. — Judges 16 | Evangelical Heritage Version (EHV) The Holy Bible, Evangelical Heritage Version®, EHV®, © 2019 Wartburg Project, Inc. All rights reserved. Cross References: Numbers 6:2; Numbers 6:5; Numbers 14:42-43; Numbers 16:14; Joshua 7:12; Joshua 13:3; Judges 14:16; Judges 15:18; Judges 15:47; Judges 17:1; Judges 19:6; 1 Samuel 5:2; 1 Samuel 19:11; 1 Samuel 31:9; 1 Chronicles 10:9; Esther 1:10; Lamentations 5:13

#Samson escapes Gaza #Samson and Delilah #Delilah discovers the secret #Samson's vengeance and death #Judges 16 #Book of Judges #Old Testament #Evangelical Heritage Version Bible #EHV #Wartburg Project Inc.

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aelingalathyniusrailme · 3 years

Text

Power recognizes power

A little power training gwynriel fic that came from me writing “if you find me at the edge, we’ll jump together.” and I was like this sentence deserves to be the title of something. plus throw everything (and by everything I mean that one sentence in the book) that you know about lightsingers away I’m just using the cute name. and yk there may or may not be some smut at the end.

She was glowing.

She was glowing and Azriel did not mean she looked radiant or that she was overcome with joy, although she did and she was. Gwyneth Berdara was a living, breathing star. As if the spring equinox had come early this year.

Her skin lit up against the blackness of the sky and her hair burned bright with the ferocity of the hearth.

Gwyneth Berdara had stopped singing, the crowd was silent. All eyes were on her but she was looking at him, her light, a beacon to his darkness.

His shadows yearned to go to her, he yearned to go to her. Instead, they both stayed stagnant, watching, waiting.

Azriel was had had enough, he dissolved from view and reappeared on the stage. Startled, Gwyn, took a step back and he stayed right with her, matching her step for step.

He gently tucked a stray piece of lit-up auburn hair behind her here, whispering, “It appears you glow, my love.”

Gwyn, ultimately getting over her initial shock lightly pushed him on the shoulder, “Don’t do that.” She scowled.

Chuckling, he pressed his mouth to hers, in a soft, soothing kiss, forgetful of the audience behind them. As she relaxed beneath his touch, the glow became dimmer and dimmer until it ceased to be. Darkness returned and he stepped back. Gwyn took a breath and stilled. The nervous, passionate energy, that arouse when she sang, calmed for now.

Azriel turned to the crowd, “Due to the events that occurred here tonight, the performance will have to be cut short.” A soft boo drew his attention and immediately he isolated the noise. “Do you want to boo my mate again?” Azriel threatened coolly, his eyes narrowing.

Annoyed, she sighed and spoke to the crowd, “Oh ignore him, I truly am sorry for this interruption but I want to give nothing more than my best and right now I feel as if I can’t do that. the show will be rescheduled sometime next month, letters will be sent out with more information.”

He watched as the stunned and irritated faces slowly began disappearing. Some winnowing away, others taking the slightly more traditional door. Gwyn held her hand out to him. He took it, “So you’re a living lamp?”

“An astute observation.”

“Is there any way I can convince you to rest now and figure this out later?”

She sighed, “It has been an especially long night.”

Azriel stared at her in disbelief, “did you just agree that you should rest?”

“Oh close your mouth, you’ll swallow a fly.” He responded by grinning at her and winnowing them away to their shared home.

Taking off his shirt he yawned not realizing how tired he actually was. It was still strange to him, being able to sleep so freely, without the looming fear of the past and what he couldn’t control. He stopped, realizing Gwyn had not moved from the door.

Gently he asked, “Are you coming?”

She looked at him blankly, lost in thought for a moment before she responded, “Um-yeah-later.” He was unconvinced so she tried again. “I think I’m going to stay out here and make some tea, maybe read a book.”

Azriel gave her a knowing look but did not push, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Az.” He tenderly kissed her cheek and walked to their room, immediately passing out on the bed.

—————————————————–

Azriel awoke at dawn and turned, unsurprisingly, to find the left side of the bed cold and empty. He sighed as he got out of bed, pulling on a pair of pants, mumbling. “Gwyneth berdara, you are going to be the death of me.”

Knowing there was no way she would be in the house but believing he probably should, he checked regardless and when he determined that she was in fact not in the house, he closed his eyes. When he opened them once again he found himself at the house of wind.

He nodded in acknowledgment, “Clotho,”

Shadowsinger. “The one and only.”

Is there something you require? “Just looking for that mate of mine. Any chance she’s here”

You know she is, and you know precisely where to find her. Ask what you truly want to ask. Through gritted teeth, he asked, “How long has she been here?”

Since 11 pm. Exhaling, he muttered, “Why can’t that damn woman ever rest.”

Over excursion out of only stubborn will seems to be a similarity between the two of you. Azriel frowned slightly before smiling pleasantly, “It’s been a pleasure as always, thank you for your help.”

Clotho only nodded and Azriel began the stairs to the 7th floor.

It took a moment for him to find her, the shadowsinger was a trained spy, forced to observe and retain even the smallest of details, yet he couldn’t find a bubbly redhead in a room full of texts and stories.

Ah, no wonder he hadn’t seen her. Gwyn was surrounded by hundreds upon hundreds of books. She was drowning in literature, her hair was tied loosely in a braid with quite a few pieces falling out, there were dark circles beneath her eyes, and she was sporting the slightly insane look that came from a lack of sleep.

“Gwyn.” Her head jerked up in surprise to see him.

“Oh Az, Ok Ok, I promise I will go to sleep soon I just need 5 more minutes. I’m so so so close. I think I’m going to skip training today. Ok how about 2 minutes. 10. No that’s more. 10 sets of 1 minute. I just need 10 sets of 1 minute. I’m fine how are you?”

“Gwyn, my love, you’re delirious.”

She brushed him off, “What no I’m fine. I’m fine. Did I already say that? I can’t remember.”

Logic was never the way to deal with her insane stubbornness, so he tried a different approach. He pushed down his worry for her, and curled his mouth into a smirk, “I bet,” She perked up like a dog about to be fed, “that you can’t summarize everything you learned last night into,” he checked the clock. “15 minutes.”

“I could do it in 10.”

“Prove it.”

“And when I win?”

“I leave you to research. But if you can’t you have to go to bed.”

“Time starts now.”

Gwyn took a deep breath and began. “First I looked into where light magic is supposed to originate: the day court. Their magic is described as warm and comforting. Every single text I read described the magic the same way, as a sort of yellowish-brown light, like the sun. But the magic that came from me was more of an icy blinding light, like the lights from the stars rather than the sun. Also, as far as I know, I don’t have family from the day court so I looked into the family I do have. My family from the autumn court. However, we know that autumn court magic is fire, and what manifested in me was light not heat. My grandmother was a nymph so I thought well what type of magic do nymphs have. And the answer was severely disappointing, with basic plant magic being the most a nymph was able to do. I was stumped for a few hours before I realized. I’m basing my research on what I believe to be true not what I know to be true. I was told that I am a quarter nymph and because that heritage would explain my non-high fae-like features I believed that, for there was no reason for me not to. But what if my nymph grandmother was not a nymph at all. I flipped through dozens of books on faeries that have similar features, light magic, and/or can live on land and water. For the most part, I could not find anything, but then out of the corner of my eye I found a small tome on the history of light magic, the majority being all things I’d seen a million times before on the day court, but a passage no more than a page long, referenced ‘the lightsinger.’ Now what is a Lightsinger, you may ask? Honestly, I had no idea what or who they were so I found every book and story I could on them. The lightsinger’s, instead of being a title for a way to manipulate magic, like shadowsingers or daemati, were a race. A long-lost fae race said to be able to bend and create light with their voices and song. It’s said that they died out due to a conflict with the shadowsingers but every so often there are sightings of unknown nymph-like creatures in you’ll never believe where. The autumn court. Now I would only have 25% of lightsinger blood but magic is a fickle thing and some sources believe that when bred with high fae blood the magic intensifies.” Gwyn exhaled.

Azriel grinned victoriously, “It’s been 20 minutes.”

“Goddamn it, I didn’t even get to the interactions between shadowsingers and lightsingers.”

Now he was intrigued. “Well if you want to continue I certainly won’t stop you.”

“No no,” she yawned, “I lost which means I will be going to bed. But I do want to alter our deal slightly.”

“Oh?”

“I sleep now, you train me tomorrow.” The set of her chin and the look in her eye were enough to assure him of how serious she was.

“You want a male who specializes in darkness to help you master your light?”

“Certain theories believe that the mother gifted the light and shadowsingers their gifts to balance each other out and to remain harmonious.” She reasoned. “So yes there is no one I would want more to teach me.”

“I will not take it easy on you.”

“Wouldn’t want you to.”

“Alright Berdara, we meet Sunday at dawn, do not be late.”

“I’ll be there.”

——————————————————————————————————–

Sunday arrived and Azriel watched as Gwyn came down to the training ring in her leathers, with a white ribbon tied in her hair.

“Good morning Gwyneth.”

“So formal.” He shot her a look. “Oh alright ok my turn. Good morning Azriel, shadowsinger, spymaster of the night court, mate of the most amazing female to grace this planet.”

“Training is serious.”

“Of course it is. Shall we begin?”

“I want you to light up the room.”

“What? is it not already lit?”

He smirked and let his shadows paint the room black. Azriel himself became smoke, nothing more than a voice in the darkness.

“Az, az come on this is not funny.”

“Good, because it’s not a joke.” His voice came from every direction and every way Gwyn turned she was surrounded by endless nothing. “You must learn to sing the song of light the way I learned the language of shadow.”

“Speaking in vague melodrama feels like it’s not going to be that effective.”

Gwyn tried to back up only to find what was once the training ring now bled together with the depth of the sky.

“Let the light speak to you. Coax it, nurture it. Burn through the darkness and find the light.”

“How am I supposed to do that.”

Gwyn thought of the way Nesta harnessed her silver fire, the way her eyes became the flame itself. She concentrated and searched deep within herself, searching and looking for the light she knew she possessed.

All she saw was a hallowed chamber.

“No.” The word echoed throughout the room. “Our magic is not like others, we do not create out of nothing, we manipulate what is already there.”

“How am I supposed to manipulate if I’m in a room with no light?” Gwyn huffed frustrated.

“Just because the shadows are masking it, does not mean it is not there.”

He was so damn infuriating. She tried calling the light to her, she flexed her hands, she even tried speaking to it, all to no avail.

“As you said, magic is fickle and our elements especially. Light and darkness do not want to be bound or controlled, let the light be a friend, a companion, let it want to help, let it want to be influenced by your will.”

But how the fuck was she supposed to do that.

“Think of the first time it came to your call.” He whispered ominously. “What were you thinking. What were you feeling? Power often manifests through emotion.”

Singing. She had been singing. Was it really so easy that all she had to do was sing?

Turns out it wasn’t.

For hours she sang hundreds of songs. From songs in the old fae language that she sang at the priestess services to ones she had written herself. Nothing worked. Azriel had let her have a singular break when she desperately needed to pee and even then he was skeptical.

He had left her to her own devices leaving his shadows to watch over her progress. When he returned he found Gwyn clutching her knees, rocking in the shadows. Her gaze was unfocused and she was humming to herself.

“You have officially broken me. I’m done.” She wanted nothing more than to sit in the library with her sisters and a book.

“No.”

Gwyn’s eyes snapped into focus, her breathing steadied, and she went predatorily still. “Excuse me.”

“You heard me. No.” Azriel laughed, a cold vicious laugh. “You asked me to train you. Gwyneth Berdara has never quit before and she certainly won’t start now.”

Gwyn was seething, but she remained quiet. “What?” He was toying with her. “A little darkness too much for you. Light up the room and we won’t have a problem.”

“Oh that’s right you can’t. 10 hours in and no light in sight. You’re pathetic.”

Her anger cleared her mind and in that moment of clarity a memory, buried deep within her, resurfaced as if it was resting, snoozing until its moment of need.

Gwyn was in her mother's lap, a black-haired girl sat across from her. Her voice pulled her attention. “My girls, Catrin,” She tickled her, resulting in a giggle from her lost sister, before she turned her head, “Gwyneth.” And also tickled her. Gwyn's small hands clutched at their mother, desperately trying to hold on. “My two beautiful daughters.” She sighed. “Your lives will be filled with so much darkness, darkness that you do not deserve. But I need you two to be strong, to stay with each other, and to find strength in the other.” ‘I don’t get it,” Gwyn whined.

“We are a part of a glorious and lost people, a people of light and song. But they fear us because they do not understand us.”

Gwyn and Catrin looked up at her, confused and innocent.

“It’s ok, you will. You know the song I sing to you every night before you go to sleep?” Gwyn and Catrin cheered, “Yeah.”

“I want you to sing it with me, and I don’t want you to ever forget it. Can you do that for me?”

Their voices came together in a melodic lullaby. It was captivating and cold, those who heard could not look away. The song demanded to be heard, to be sung.

The words came tumbling out of Gwyn, they twisted around her tongue and lips as if finally home. Lost but not forgotten. Lost but born anew. Through the shadow and darkness, her eyes found the light, it heard her call and from every direction it found her. She pulled the brilliance of the stars to her and let the light paint the dark white.

The shadows retreated to Azriel who stood just two feet in front of her. Their eyes locked and he smiled, “there she is.”

The light flowed and flowed, and the room lit up in a blaze of pearlescent radiance. Her pale skin lit and she had once again become one with the stars.

But while the call came from her, there was another that drew her light forward. His shadows and her light curiously answered the pull. Finding each other between Azriel and Gwyn. One did not dissolve into the other like it should but instead mingled, swirling around each other in an almost playful manner. They became one from two opposites that never should have met.

As they blended together she felt a pounding in her chest and a throbbing somewhere lower. Her toes curled and she craved more. Their power was its own entity and yet connected to them. A push and pull, a desire to be close.

Azriel bridged the gap between them breathing heavily, pulling her against him as he’d never felt her before. “Az.” she gasped.

His eyes were on her lips as he licked his own, smiling, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so alive.”

“You’re the worst,” She said between breaths.

“I know.” And their lips met in a furious burst of passion.

He kissed her with a fiery hunger, a male starving. Her hands weaved through his hair, her fingers getting lost in the darkness. Gwyn wanted nothing more then to be lost in his darkness, as he wanted to drown in her light. Azriel gripped her waist, grinding his hardness into her causing her to moan.

“You make such pretty sounds for me.” He chuckled, ripping her shirt off.

“Fuck me.” It was an order, not a request.

“Gladly.” Their clothes were gone moments later. His kisses moved down her neck as he sucked and his fingers dipped to her cunt as he felt her. “Always so wet and ready for me.”

She wrapped her hand around his cock, “Always so hard for me.”

“Can’t help it.”

“Wouldn’t want you to.” He laid her down in the middle of the training ring and stroked his cock up and down her folds, pressing against her clit. “oh my god-fuck.”

With that, his control snapped and he buried himself to the hilt in her. Stroking once, twice.

He smirked, crooning, “look how perfectly we fit.”

His thrusts were slow and shallow, edging her on, basking in the feel of him in her, of her around him.

He then went harder, hitting her in the right spot every time, but Gwyn needed more.

“Faster.”

“Your wish is my command.” Azriel fucked her hard and fast, and with every thrust she moaned in ecstasy, driving her hips forward, meeting him step for step.

“Oh my god fuck me.”

“Such a good girl, taking it so well.” He captured a moan on her lips, devouring her.

“yes, yes fuck.”

Where the light met the dark, was where Gwyn met Azriel. They were cocooned in a shell of power flowing between and all around them. They were a storm of blinding light and depthless shadow, the lines of what were and were not, blurred to just the other.

“Gwyn.” He groaned, nothing existed but them.

“Az I’m gonna cum.”

“Yes, my love, cum for me.”

Every thrust became sporadic and uncontrolled as if his pleasure had taken a mind of its own. He swirled his tongue around her nipple and ground her clit with his fingers.

It was all too much, Gwyn cried out as she came, her back arching, toes curling. Her cunt tightened around his cock as he fucked her past completion. She was everything and watching her cum was enough to send him over the edge as he emptied himself in her, collapsing on the ground next to her.

For a moment they were silent before Gwyn spoke, “would you like to hear what I learned about the interactions between Lightsinger’s and Shadowsinger’s” She smirked, “Apparently the sex is unlike even mate sex.”

“I can vouch for that.”

Gwyn laughed, and if it wasn’t the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

#gwynriel #gwyn berdara #azriel #gwyn x azriel #one shot #gwynriel one shot #smut #Gwynriel fanfiction

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jeannereames · 2 years

Note

Good morning Dr.Reames.

In Wikipedia, the first line about Thessalonike says she was 3 or 4 years younger than Alexander, but on the same page, it says when Alexander died, she was 21, which means she was 11 or 12 years younger. And about Cassander, Wikipedia says he was one year younger than Alexander, but in most depiction he seems to be older, and Britannica says he was 2 years older. Same for Perdiccas, Wikipedia says he was born in 355BC, but Britannica say 365BC, other pages mention 360BC. Leonnatus has two dates of birth, 356BC and 358BC.

This makes me wonder are the years of birth of these people really accurate? Wikipedia And I am curious which sources are more reliable.

We don’t have a certain year of birth for any of Alexander’s siblings except Europa, and that only because she was a newborn when Philip died in 336. Every other year of birth is a guess; often a pretty solid one, but a guess. So, we think Kleopatra, his full sister, was born about 1.5-2 years after he was, but it’s not anywhere stated. For all we know, she could have been 3-4 years younger. She was of age to marry in 336, which means only that she would have been born by at least 351/0. In his final two years, Philip married off both of his older daughters: Kynanne to her cousin Amyntas (who, himself, was only in his early 20s, being called an “infant” when his father died in 359), and then Kleopatra.

Do not give any credence to the silly story of Philip being turned off Olympias because he found her sleeping with a snake. The tale was introduced later to provide fodder for Alexander’s “son of a god” status. Olympias no doubt kept snakes for her rites, but Plutarch relates the story in his list of omens surrounding ATG’s birth. In Dancing with the Lion, she’s over 2 years younger than her brother.

We have similar issues with Arrhidaios. He was about Alexader’s age, but we’re unsure whether slightly older or slightly younger. It depends on when Philip married his mother. I chose to make him older in the novel, but only because it served my narrative purposes. In truth, I suspect he was a year or so younger. Kyanne was the eldest, and probably born in 358/57-ish, so even she is only 1-2 years older than Alexander. Remember, Philip married his first 5 wives in his first 5 years of rule (with the possible exception of Nikesepolis, discussed below).

Thessalonike presents a specific problem because her name means “Victory in Thessaly.” That gives us two possible range dates for her birth. The first would have been after 353/2, the victory at Crocus Field and his resettlement of Thessaly into tetrarchies. This is also likely when he married both Thessalian wives: Philina from Larissa (Arrhidaios’s mother) and Nikesepolis from Pherae (Thessalonike’s mother). Yet that doesn’t necessarily mean Thessalonike was born on the heels of a marriage. If she were, her birth year is more likely 351, or late in 352.

The Third Sacred War continued after the Battle of Crocus Field—for quite a few years. Philip imposed a permanent peace on the region in 346/5. So, there’s another possible date for a girl with the name “Victory in Thessaly”: after 345.

In Dancing with the Lion, I went with the earlier date because I wanted all the siblings to be roughly the same age range, to have grown up together. Beth Carney favors the later date, as that was a solid/final victory. The real question is whether Nikesepolis was married at the same time as Philina of Larissa (Arrhidaios’s mother). I think she was, and if I remember right, Beth does as well (and I believe changed her mind). But it’s possible that Nikesepolis was married later, in 346/5, making Thessalonike’s birth no earlier than 344—in which case she would not have known Alexander well (or likely Kleopatra, who was married in 456 and left for Epiros). As stated, I didn’t want that, so I went with the higher chronology.

Whoever wrote the Wikipedia article on Thessalonike cannot, apparently, do math. 353/2 is given as her birth year…which is only 3 years after Alexander’s in 356. Yet the same paragraph says she was born when Alexander was studying with Aristotle, was only 6-7 when he left, and only 21 when he died. Clearly the author confused the two potential birth periods, and failed to notice the dates didn’t match. Also, just to be completely clear, nowhere in the ancient sources is it stated that Olympias raised her, but as she was in Olympias’s party when Kassandros captured them at Pydna, it’s assumed Olympias did. (That assumption goes all the way back to Berve’s early prosopography in the 1920s, Das Alexanderreich auf prosopographischer Grundlage.)

Yet this is the eternal problem with Wikipedia. People get on there and write things when they don’t know the material well, don’t understand the nuances of the problem, don’t cite where they get their information…and apparently can’t even use a calculator.

As for the others you mentioned, Kassandros was younger than Alexander by a few years. Seleukos was about the same age, as were Leonnatos and Perdikkas. But remember, the Greeks didn’t celebrate birthdays, and for many of Alexander’s inner circle, we only have a birth year if they survived ATG and went on to become kings in their own right. But for a number of important figures around Alexander, we must guess at their ages: Krateros, Philotas, Harpalos, Kleitos, Nikanor, Erigyios, Nearchos, etc. We know Parmenion only because we’re told he was 70 when he was murdered by ATG in 330. He was a contemporary of Antipatros, so again, older than Philip by more than a decade. We know Antipatros's age because it's given on the Marmor Parium (an important inscription with an eclectic collection of dates.)

In fiction, we do sometimes play with ages to suit the story. In my author’s note, I explained that I altered several on purpose, to limit the number of names floating about. I could introduce early people who would matter later. So Erigyios, for instance, was not even close to ATG’s age, but probably 20+ years older. I stuck closer to real ages with Ptolemy and Philotas, but even so, we have no birth year for Philotas. We do know the youngest of Parmenion’s sons, Hektor, was younger than Alexander, but enough of a contemporary to be a coeval/attend school with him. We think Philotas was probably about the same age as Alexander’s cousin, Amyntas, something that suited me well in the novel.

(Article mentioned is E. Carney, “The Sisters of Alexander the Great: Royal Relics,” Historia 37.4 (1988): 385-404.)

#asks #thessalonike #thessalonice #Alexander the Great #Kleopatra of Macedon #ages of Alexander's friends #Nikesepolis #Olympias #Third Sacred War #Philip II's wives #Philip II's children #Classics #ancient Macedonia #tagamemnon #Dancing with the Lion #DwtL

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bex-la-get · 3 years

Text

A Second Chance (Ethan x f!MC)

Book: Open Heart, Book 2

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Natalie Cusack

Word count: 2175

Summary: While the hospital reels from the assassination attempt, Ethan gets his miracle. Sequel to What If...

Author’s Note: So @adiehardfan asked if there would be a part 2 to What If and at the time, I wasn’t sure but this came to me the other day and I thought this would be the perfect sequel piece after I ripped your hearts out (sorry about that, by the way). Enjoy! 😘

Disclaimer: I am not a medical professional. Nor do I remember the specifics from Chapters 10/11 in OPH Book 2. Any and all mistakes are my own. Thank you.

Please, he pleaded silently. Let her live. We have so much lost time to catch up on. Please. Let. Her. Live.

Ethan watched Natalie breath, her chest moving slowly as it rose up and down. He could tell she was struggling, growing weaker by the moment; but he could also see that she was fighting it. Fighting to get oxygen to her lungs, fighting to make it until morning, fighting to stay alive. He brushed some loose hair behind her ear and closed his eyes, listening to the sound of her breathing and silently praying that the combined efforts of Edenbrook and Mass Ken would be enough to save her.

He didn’t sleep that night. Too concerned of what might happen if he closed his eyes, Ethan stayed awake through the whole night, watching Natalie’s breathing and monitoring her vitals. He briefly stepped out of the room to splash some water on his face and wipe away the stray tears that were still sliding down his cheeks but that was the farthest he would be away from her. He refused to leave the room otherwise.

At around 3am, Harper and Naveen arrived with a couple and a young man; Ethan could only assume these were Natalie’s parents and brother.

“Ethan,” Naveen said on the other side of the door, “Dr. Cusack’s family is here.

Ethan nodded, stepped out of the room, and quickly changed out of the hazmat suit to speak with them; he stayed close to the entrance, however, and kept an ear out for the systems monitoring Nat’s vitals. He didn’t want to miss anything crucial while out of the room.

“Mr. and Mrs. Cusack, I’m Doctor Ramsey. It’s good to meet you, though I wish it were under different circumstances.”

The Cusacks shook his extended hand and he turned to Natalie’s brother, greeting him as her mother, Julie, spoke. “Likewise, Doctor. Is there any update?” Her green eyes were filled with concern and worry and Ethan’s heart tightened.

“Not at the moment, I’m afraid. But we have a team working around the clock on a cure; some of the best doctors in the country are working to help your daughter,” Ethan answered.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Vic, as he had introduced himself, asked.

Naveen shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid not; but thank you for offering.”

Vic’s shoulders deflated somewhat and his father wrapped an arm around him. “Thank you for watching over her, Doctor Ramsey,” Elias said, his voice quiet.

Ethan nodded. “She would do the same for me; for any of us.”

Elias smiled sadly. “That’s just like my Nattie.”

Julie sniffled and gazed at her daughter through the window, her eyes wet with unshed tears; Harper laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t we wait in my office? You’ll be comfortable there and it’s close by so we’ll know when there’s updates.” Julie nodded in agreement and the Cusack family quietly said their goodbyes, following Harper down the hall.

Naveen rested a reassuring hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “How are you doing, my boy?”

Ethan shook his head and swallowed back a sob. “Not good.”

His mentor gazed at him sadly. “I wish I could reassure that she would be okay, but I cannot in good conscience say such things. But I do want to believe them.”

Ethan nodded and sniffled. “Me too.” He looked back through the window where Natalie was fast asleep, her chest rising and falling with every breath. “I can’t lose her, Naveen,” he said, quietly. “I-- she’s everything to me. I don’t know what I’m going to do if she doesn’t make it.”

Naveen squeezed his shoulder. “We have to believe she will make it, Ethan. Thinking otherwise will only drive us crazy.”

“I know; I just feel so useless. I can’t help with the cure and I can’t do anything for her in the meantime.” Ethan could feel the tears welling up again but he fought against them. Crying wouldn’t help anything right now.

“Being there for her in her hour of need is doing more than you can possibly imagine, Ethan. Trust me.” Naveen paused for a moment before speaking again. “Does she know how you feel?”

Ethan nodded solemnly. “I told her before she fell asleep. I just wish I hadn’t waited so long. I should’ve told her a long time ago, from the moment I knew.”

“We all have things we wish we could have done differently or sooner. The important thing now is that she knows.” Naveen squeezed his shoulder again then stepped away. “Go. Be with her. We’ll let you know when there’s news.”

“Thank you, Naveen,” Ethan said, making his way back into the quarantine area.

“Ethan,” Naveen said. Ethan turned to his mentor, finding a sad smile on his lips. “Assuming she makes it and they can make a cure, I hope you won’t let her go.”

Ethan shook his head. “I’m never letting her go again,” he said, resolutely.

Naveen nodded and watched as Ethan once again dressed in the hazmat suit before returning to his place at Natalie’s side.

------------------------

It was nearing six am when several members from both the Edenbrook and Mass Ken teams appeared at the window of the hospital room. Ethan’s heart pounded at their appearance, trying not to let his fears get the better of him. Please be good news, please be good news.

“Well?” Ethan asked, his throat going dry.

Tobias looked to Elijah who grinned and held up a small vial in his hand before handing it to Baz. “We did it. We were able to synthesize a cure!”

Ethan barely held back a sob as he watched Baz and June suit up and join him in the room. “What about the EMT? Rafael?”

“He made it through the night,” Tobias confirmed. “He’s being administered his own dose as we speak.”

Ethan nodded, fighting tears. “Thank you,” he said, quietly. “All of you, thank you.”

“She would’ve done the same for any of us,” Elijah said, looking at his sleeping friend sadly. “I just hope we did it in time.”

Baz and June administered the dosage to Nat and Ethan swallowed hard. “Only time will tell.”

--------------------------

“Nat? Natalie. Can you hear me?”

Natalie’s brows furrowed as the familiar voice pulled her out of her deep sleep.

“Natalie,” the voice said again. “Please Nat, wake up.”

She groaned and slowly blinked her eyes open, squinting through the bright lights of the room. She looked for the source of the voice to find him sitting next to her, a look of worry on his face. “Ethan?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

Ethan released a sound that was a mix of a sob and a laugh. “Oh thank god,” he said.

Her eyes adjusted to the room around her and she realized he wasn’t wearing a hazmat suit. Her eyes widened. “Ethan, you’re-- you look… normal. What--”

“Elijah and the joint teams synthesized a cure,” Ethan said, helping her move to a seated position in the bed. “You’re okay; the toxin is gone, completely.”

Nat took a shaky breath. “And Raf?”

“Also alive and okay, though he was in rough shape by the time his dosage was administered. It’ll take longer for him to recover but he will recover. You both will.”

Natalie felt tears welling up in her eyes. “Does that-- does that mean I can kiss you now?”

He gave her a watery smile and nodded. Without waiting another moment, Natalie pulled Ethan towards her and kissed him soundly. He cupped her face with his hands and returned her kiss with equal fervor, ignoring the tears slipping down both of their cheeks. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips.

She broke away to cough out a sob and buried her face into his shoulder. He held her tightly and kissed the top of her head, letting his own tears fall freely. “I love you too,” she said through sobs. “I was so worried I wasn’t ever going to be able to tell you again.”

“So was I,” he sniffled. “I love you, Nat. I love you so much. I’m never going to let another day go by without telling you that.”

She looked up at him and wiped some tears away from his cheeks. “Us until the end of time, right?”

He smiled and nodded. “Until the end of time.” He sniffled again and placed another soft kiss on her lips. “Your parents and brother are here; they’ll want to see you. Are you up for visitors?”

She thought for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I am.”

“Okay, let me go get them.” He placed one more kiss on her lips, this one lingering for a long moment before he broke away, kissed her forehead, then left the room. Nat adjusted herself in bed so she was sitting up fully then waited for her family to arrive.

Less than five minutes later, her mother practically burst into the room, making a beeline for her daughter. “Oh Nattie,” Julie said, when they locked eyes.

Unable to hold back the tears, Natalie began crying, falling into her mother’s tight embrace. Her brother and father quickly joined the hug, holding onto each other tightly, crying tears of relief and happiness that Natalie was okay. She was safe. She was alive.

Ethan stood outside of the hospital room, taking steadying breaths and trying to control the tears that kept slipping out. He was exhausted and was holding it together just enough so he wouldn’t collapse from relief. He sniffled and ran his hands through his hair, sending a silent thank you to the gods that listened to his previous pleadings.

“Ethan?” a voice said.

He turned to the source to find Tobias looking at him, an inscrutable look on his face. “Tobias, hi.”

“Are you okay?”

Ethan glanced into the hospital room where Nat was giving her family a watery smile and looked back at Tobias. “I am now. I--” he hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer to his old friend. “I can’t thank you enough for what you did. I-- you gave her-- me-- us a second chance. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to put into words how much that means to me. How grateful I am.”

Tobias smiled. “It was my honor to help, Ethan. Natalie’s a good doctor, and an even better person. This world is better with her in it. You’re better with her in it.”

Ethan’s lips quirked into a small smile. “Yeah, I know.”

Tobias rested his hand on Ethan’s shoulder and squeezed. “I know our past has been rocky and this year has had its own struggles and difficulties; but I’ll always be around to help if you need it, Ethan. No rivalry or competition will ever outweigh our duty as doctors… or my loyalty to an old friend.”

Ethan nodded thoughtfully, feeling a twinge of fondness for his old friend and [former?] adversary. “Thank you. And the same stands for me.”

Tobias smiled again and he stepped away. “I have to get back to my own hospital and patients. But I’m glad to see she’s doing better.” He nodded respectfully to Ethan. “See you around, Ramsey.”

“See you around, Carrick.”

As Tobias disappeared around the corner, Ethan looked back through the window to find Natalie gazing at him, a fond smile on her lips. He returned her smile. “I love you,” he mouthed.

Her smile grew and she mouthed “I love you too” back to him.

His heart thumped in his chest as he locked eyes with her for a long moment before her attention was called back to her parents. He stood outside the room for another moment debating on whether or not he should stay when a new voice caught his attention. “Are you doing okay?”

He looked to the source and smiled at Harper. He nodded. “Yeah; better than okay.”

She smiled. “Good, I’m glad to hear it.” She looked him over and raised an eyebrow. “Did you sleep at all last night?” Ethan shook his head and Harper nodded knowingly, her lips pursed. “I can tell.”

He rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”

“Just calling it like I see it,” she said, smirking. She stepped towards Nat’s room and gestured forward with her chin. “Go clean up; and maybe take a nap while you’re at it. Or at least get some coffee in you; I know you too well to think you’re going to sleep right now. I’ll keep an eye on Nat for you in the meantime.”

He looked down at his rumpled clothing and chuckled. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Thank you, Harper.”

She smiled. “I’m happy to help. And I’m happy to see you happy. It’s a good look for you.”

He chuckled. “I’m just glad I have a reason to be happy.”

“We all are.” She glanced at Nat and smiled. “She’s one of a kind, that one. You hold onto her.”

Ethan gazed back at Natalie and smiled. “I plan to.” Forever.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @genevievemd @jamespotterthefirst @paulfwesley @ethansdique @openheartfanfics @perriewinklenerdie @little-flowers-on-heaven @stateofgracious @coffeeheartaddict @liaromancewriter @potionsprefect @mm2305 @gryffindordaughterofathena @actuallybored @writer-ish @queencarb @takeharryandgo @lsvdw-blog @itsjustwinter @imaneditorthankyouverymuch-deac @chaoticchopshopheart @ohchoices @maurine07 @oldminniemcg @parisa-kh @shanzay44 @uberamsey @izzyourresidentlawyer @adiehardfan @custaroonie @mia143 @a-crepusculo @takemyopenheart @toadfrog26 @quixoticdreamer16 @barbean @headoverheelsforramsey

#bexwritesstuff #open heart book 2 #open heart fic #ethan ramsey #natalie cusack #ethan x natalie #ethan x mc #open heart mc #open heart fics

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theji · 3 years

Text

Things Yizhan Made Me Do

It's BXG Day today! 🐢💛

To commemorate the occasion, I thought of making a list of 13 out-of-character things that I've done since falling into the fandom. (OK I'm a bit late I meant to do this sooner, the day is ending soon in a couple of hours).

1. Start a blog

And a public one, no less. I had a blog when I was in my teens but that was private, like a personal diary. My day job already involves writing so off-work I would usually like to indulge in mindless activities. Now, here I am, maintaining a Yizhan blog. I have not even used Tumblr prior to this but I'm enjoying it now, rambling about our fav boys. Writing is not a chore if it's about them.

2. Join a fandom

I joined a boy band fan club once upon a time, some 15 years ago, but I was never as invested in it as I am now with Yizhan. Back then it was just buying some merch, attending their concert/autograph sessions, listening to their songs. Apart from work, dog mum duties, personal relationships, other hobbies like kombucha brewing, most of my free time is now spent on the fandom. My Netflix account is crying. There is just so much to do and catch up on (I'm not complaining). I also enjoy interacting with and learning from other bloggers here. Antis are no fun and some industry news/developments/hate messages are upsetting but ultimately, you curate your own fandom experience. And I choose positivity and rationality.

3. Indulge in RPS

I don't ever 'ship'. What is 'ship'? 😆 I was always a dutiful audience, just enjoying whatever drama series and moving on after that. I started with CQL like most people and I didn't even notice/like GGDD until much later. Didn't even set out to 'ship' anyone but now I'm a self-professed turtle. SZD is SZD, and anyone can see something special between them if you keep an open mind. I wrote about my SZD reasons here previously. That said, GG & DD are individuals, each with their own successful careers. They come first, the ship comes second. That I'm very clear of.

4. Use Chinese apps

Gosh, my phone and tablet are now full of Chinese apps. I used to have only WeChat cos I needed it for work but now I have Weibo, Oasis, Douyin, WeTV, MangoTV, Youku, etc. Some of them are not even available in the app store so I had to find alternative sources to download them. haha..I even have paid membership for some of these apps. And now, browsing Weibo daily becomes a routine. If you wish, you can just get stuck browsing Weibo for a long long time. It's entertaining.

5. Read fan fic

I only started about 6 months ago but now I'm hooked and fics are largely the only thing I read these days, apart from news. But I only read Yizhan or WangXian fics (p.s. calling for fic recs of other pairings!) I know some might have different feelings about fan fics but to me, I really just see them as fiction, with characters (and sometimes traits) bearing similarities to GGDD. Similarly, I separate the platform from the incident so I have no problems going to A03 despite GG's incident. I just enjoy seeing the characters named XZ/WYB having happy endings in many different timelines and universes. While most of the fics I read are explicit (by design), I don't use them as tools to play out certain fantasies or to think of GGDD in a sexual manner. In fact, I really hate fics that have little substance and just go into the explicit parts without plot development. I like those with interesting premises too, like one I read recently where XZ is a serial killer and WYB is a police officer investigating the case but also in love with him. I do have plans to share my list of fav fan fics some time down the road so keep an eye out for it!

6. Willingly read Chinese

Yes, Chinese may be my mother tongue but I don't use it much in daily living unless I have to. I also find it tedious to read Chinese cos the characters are just so squashed together. If I have a choice, I will always pick English. But now, I read so much Chinese from my daily weibo browsing. I even read fan fics in Chinese! Who am I? On the plus side, I think my Chinese comprehension and translation skills improved. I also picked up some internet lingo used by Chinese netizens, which are pretty interesting like doi, 🐮🍺, 🖍. My all-time fav is yyds.

7. Act like a cougar

In real life, I have always maintained that younger men are childish. At least those I have encountered. But look at me now, fangirling over two younger men (I am closer in age to GG, but still..). I even jokingly call them my 'China Boyfriends'. I look at them very respectfully most of the time.

8. Buy merch

Seriously, once you start, you can't stop. At least that was what happened to me, although I'm still quite selective when it comes to supporting their endorsements. I usually go for consumables like food, cosmetics vs collectibles cos I'm more practical. Also, GG says to support their merch within reasonable means so that's what I'm doing. Just buying things that I'm interested to try and not because it has their faces or names slapped on it. In a way, this suits me cos I like trying new brands and stuff anyway.

9. Keeping a Yizhan archive

Photos, weblinks, videos, songs, fan fics list..my phone is full of these things now. I think my Yizhan photo gallery is only second to the folder with my dogs' pictures. But how can you resist when we are blessed with new pics of them almost every week?

10. Camp for livestreams

I'm lucky I live in the same time zone as the boys so I don't have to wake up in the wee hours of the morning just to watch something. But that's the thing, being in the same time zone sometimes make me feel like I HAVE to watch that thing live because, why not? Why wait? Not shy to admit that I once watched a live programme in the middle of work but I made sure I finished what needed to be done. I think so long as we don't let these livestream schedules run our lives, there's no harm in camping for them.

11. Watch c entertainment

I am one of those who used to pass over Chinese productions, simply because it's a Chinese production. Not in a scoffing manner but I'm just genuinely not interested in them nor the celebs. I was more of a US/UK production kind of person, occasionally Korean/Japanese. Now, I'm learning to enjoy them although I just watch those with GGDD in them. No energy to follow other Chinese celebs anyway. The other programme I'm contemplating watching even if it doesn't have them in it is Who's the Murderer (GG was only in one of the cases) cos I like the premise. On the flip side, now my sis and partner keep making fun of me cos to them, all I do now is "watch China shows". That is so not true. Or is it?

12. Write fan mail

I wrote a letter to GG once. A long-ass letter. I hope he read it. That's all I'm gonna say. 🙈 hahahahaha

13. Desire to visit China

China was never on my list of to-visit places. Just wasn't interested. I have been to Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou a few times in the past for work but even then, I never felt the urge to revisit for leisure. Now, I wanna visit GG and DD's home town, visit Chongqing to see the graffiti wall with Bobii Zanbii on it, eat mala hotpot and try out their sauce recipe, attend BXG events, dine at the CQL restaurant... Watching TTXS also made me realise that there are many beautiful places in China with natural landscapes and all that. I used to be clouded by my disdain for the regime and some behaviour of its citizens but now, I recognise that the country is separate from the regime or a smaller group of poorly behaved citizens. China is a beautiful country and I would love to visit some day. I will fly over immediately on my own if someone gives me tix to ADLAD!!

Well, I hope some of these things resonate with you. Feel free to share the OOC things that Yizhan made you do.

Once again, Happy BXG Day! 🐢💛🐆🐇🐷🌶🦁🍑🐶🍍🛹🎋

#yizhan #bjyx #things yizhan made me do

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whatdoesshedotothem · 2 years

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Sunday 16 April 1837

Slept in the kitchen chamber (as since the 11th) my eye so much worse (last night the cheek so much swollen just below the right eye) feared something of Erysipelas – on going into the blue room at 11 ¼ found A- gone to bed and fast asleep – lay awake till about (near 2) and till then with my washing basing on my bed with cold water kept a perpetually moisted towel on my eye – this did it much good – so that I fell asleep, and, in the morning, tho’ I had not sent for leeches the 1st thing as I thought of doing, let A- send for Mr. Jubb – on awaking still kept on the cold towel system till breakfast (in bed – tea and teacake) about 11 – slumbered a little during the morning when A- was not with me – she was hardly gone to church when Mr. Jubb came about 2 ¼ and staid about near ½ hour – recommended more pills tonight and a [draught] in the morning and lying in bed and taking and I should soon be well – no erysipelas – A- back at 5 – Mr. Fenton had done all the duty – Mrs. F- at church – snowing hard, so A- took her to Cliff Hill but did not stay above a moment – A- dined at 6 ½ and I had tea and tea cake at 7 – had just before shewn A- my purchase at Whitleys yesterday Russells’ Jerusalem, she [w]as much pleased with the work as I, and, before and after dinner, read aloud 2 or 3 hours – gave me my pills, and left me soon after 11 pm – I never got up at all the day – in much perspiration in the evening after tea and this did me good – between six and seven incurred a x think[ing] as usual on these occasions of π. mused over the names of Adam and Even Ad-am (because made of red earth – clayey – al-um (um for Am?) Ham the son of Noah. Ham or cham (earth? Χαραι [?]; and all its compounds Χαράί ζαρος humilis rubus, [Χαραί ζατου] fragum, strawberry red etc chemia, alchemy Arabic from chem. or cham with reference to fire –

Ham uncovered his father’s nakedness

Lingam or Ham – to uncover one nakedness generally means to complete or the act itself?

Eve because the mother of all living promised something Euoe Evor etc Yoni? reminds me of hymns to Bac-chus

Tamug or Tham-oz Ad-on-is

Penis from pen high erect Pennine alps high ditto

was the grove [Troovea] hollow or fault in the sacred Yoni or Eve privy part of female

Dr. Adam Clark fancies that the serpent was in the form of a monkey ourang outing he must have beguitted Eve; for Adam and she had dominion over all the beasts of the filed

they had been longer created and had procreated the beast might make even understand

the use of the penis or she might him copulate and ask Adam to try

and the seeing that they were naked and the eating an apple may be but a [m]anner of e[x]pressing their having copulated the context hints this the woman was immediately sentenced to conceive in sorrow apples have always been symbolic are your apples ripe are they fit for sucking

‘Malo me Galatea petit’ etc viz.

Moses was skilled in all the learning of the Egyptians and his uninspired writings breathed the traditions that were old even in his day – his human learning was derived from the same source as the Eleusinian mysteries – the laws of the druids – perhaps the oracles of the sybills

Ζευς θεος , Thot, Teut (Teutonic), Teutch Dutch Jupiter (Zeus Pater) Jovis (Jehovah) very wintery snowy day – the ground voered with snow 2 or 3 in. deep tonight

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itsmeevie01 · 3 years

Text

A Moment in Time- Ch 11

MASTERPOST

wow, this took a while! in all honesty? it was the effort it took to get back inside Tim's head. moving on, please check the A/N at the end, for the rest of the going ons and comments on the...cannon compliance. or lack of, therefore. a warning? I threw cannon out the window before I started. oh! and this ch mentions kind of vague suicide? so, if that's a trigger, skip the headlines about Adrien. (don't worry, I haven't killed him..yet)

While Marinette was giving Adrien a heart attack, across the ocean, the girl was also giving Tim Drake one.

It had been almost 24 hours since he had heard from the very prompt Marinette. After their last email, he had gone to bed. When he had woken up the next day, he had lunged for his computer only to find that his inbox sat empty. When he had checked it again after his first coffee, Tim was again disappointed.

After that, he had set his inbox to notify him if something from his friend came in.

Now, as he sat in his car after work, Tim anxiously hovered his finger over the email icon. He had stayed late to distract himself and had fallen asleep at his desk. It was 11 at night, and his phone had gone off with a call from Alfred. The butler had been trying to get in contact with him, concerned that he had been kidnapped again.

Hesitantly, Tim thumbed his way into the drafts of his email and looked over the top one.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Marinette,

I apologize if you feel that I have overstepped in the past 24 hours. I truly did not intend to find out from Jason. I had intended to ask you when you came for the Gala.

I know that we usually average 2-3 emails a day, but I wanted to give you some space to process if you needed.

I look forward to you joining us in Gotham, in a few weeks. I know that with all that is going on with Hawkmoth, you must be relieved to leave the city for some time. Alfred will probably reach out, but I was wondering if there was anything we could do to make your stay more enjoyable? Times around the galas are always a bit hectic, and I don’t want to make your life any more difficult. On another side note, will you be traveling alone? International travel can be quite hectic, especially if you are flying somewhere new.

It turns out that my father’s company likes to throw curveballs, and I will be flying to Paris in the next week. If you have time, maybe we could sit down and talk?

I was reading back through our emails and realized that you may not have heard. Jason and Gina have left on some sort of adventure. The only thing that they said was that we should start checking Italian news. Do you have any idea what that may be about?

I hope to hear from you soon.

-Tim

P.S. is the offer for the super coffee recipes still open? Those coffees are sounding more and more appealing.

After hesitating one more time, Tim hit send and watched as the message disappeared from his screen. With a sigh, the teen turned his car on, and made his way out onto the late-night streets of Gotham.

When he rolled out of bed the next morning, Tim blindly reached for his phone. Before he could open his email and look for a message from Marinette, a notification caught his attention.

ITALIAN GANG EXPOSED AS ROOT OF GOTHAM DRUG ISSUE

Rolling his eyes, Tim opened that headline. There the story went into more detail and the young CEO was able to see his older brother’s fingerprints all over the discovery. At the end, it mentioned two ‘biker vigilantes’ who had ridden through town and mostly done what they could to defend those who needed help. The author noted that the duo was gone by the time the gang had been brought to justice. It was rumored that they had been the ones to take the gang down.

With a roll of his eyes, Tim sent Jason a screenshot of the story and a good job, before flipping to his email.

There, sitting at the top of his inbox was…nothing from Marinette. A frown worked its way onto Tim’s face as he refreshed his email again. When nothing came up, he moved to his computer. As he navigated to the French news site he had bookmarked Tim reminded himself that there were heroes in Paris and that there was nothing to worry about.

He quickly revised the thought as he looked at the top headline.

ADRIEN AGRESTE MISSING.

The next one read very similarly.

GABRIEL AGRESTE CLAIMS SON RAN AWAY! IS HE HIDING THE INNER BEGINNINGS OF SCANDAL?

With a click, Tim opened another news site based in Paris.

A MOTHER’S SUICIDE. A SON’S DISAPPEARANCE. A FATHER’S ABUSIVE NATURE. AN UNFILTERED LOOK AT THE AGRESTE HOUSEHOLD FROM AN INSIDE SOURCE.

Worry settled in the pit of Tim’s stomach. If there were legitimate news sources running this kind of thing, something must be going on. Marinette hadn’t mentioned anything about the boy, and most likely they weren’t friends. Hell, they probably didn’t even know the other existed. He tried to brush off the headlines as the media overdramatizing things again. However, his gut just wouldn’t let him.

With a sigh, Tim opened a separate tab and set up his computer desk for the long haul. He was going to dig into the Agreste kid. After he checked on Marinette.

It had been a lot easier to find what he was looking for than he expected. Within the first hour, Tim had tracked down the people Adrien was close to because of his father and moved onto the boy’s school friends. When he had pulled up the school the missing teen attended, Tim froze.

It was the same Lycée that Marinette attended.

In a flurry of typing, Tim pulled up the school records. There was Marinette. A few familiar faces. And then…there! in the same class was the missing blonde boy. As the young vigilante stared at the class roster, Tim felt his stomach sink. Adrien and Marinette were in the same class.

While Bruce had shrugged off the worry that Tim had, the teen knew that he had a valid concern. There was a sinking in his gut, a tightness that he couldn’t explain. All Tim knew was that this connection between Adrien Agreste and Marinette was going to change the situation in Paris, drastically.

It was at three in the morning when Tim’s email box binged.

The teen’s head was resting on the keys, his arms slack at his sides. On the screen, where the cursor was blinking a line of unintelligible letters was running. As the bing went off again, louder, and Tim jerked up in surprise and blinked owlishly at the screen.

He had begged off patrol in favor of looking into a ‘case’. He had spent the entire evening camped out at his desk digging further into all things Paris. On one window, he had the files he was compiling on the names that kept coming up, while in another he monitored three different news sites known to report on Akumas. In one of the windows that was hidden behind piles of rabbit holes, was a file with one line typed

MARINETTE DUPAIN-CHENG

As understanding ran over his face, Tim opened a new window and clicked into his email. There, waiting for him at the top of the inbox was an email from Marinette.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Tim,

I am so sorry that I disappeared! One of my friends had a family emergency and I have been spending time with him helping with the fine details.

I appreciate the apology, but I can’t really blame you when Jason was being an idiot. It feels good to know that you now understand why and how Jason and I know each other. As for my older brother, last I heard, he was coming back to Paris on his way to Germany. He promised to be back in Gotham in time for the annual Holiday Gala.

You mentioned that you were coming to Paris before the Gala? Is everything ok? I would enjoy meeting you if there is time. Of course, much of my schedule will be revolving around finals, so maybe an ice cream break would be in order? Let me know when you arrive, and we can make plans!

That reminds me, I won't be on my computer much and I've been enjoying talking with you. If you want, you can text me at XX-XXX-XXXX-XX.

Have a good day,

~Marinette

P.S. I was going to send you the coffee recipes, but it would be better if I gave them to you in person!

Tension ran out of Tim’s shoulders as he reread the email. Marinette was ok, she didn’t hate him. but, as the teen reread his friend's (were they friends?) email, he realized that there was something off with her email. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but the young vigilante chalked it up to his exhaustion.

With a sleepy smile, Tim clicked out of his email and stood from the desk. A moment later, he was tumbling into bed. For once, he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

As Bruce Wayne climbed the stairs to the upper levels of the Manor, his eyes caught on a computer bag that had been left in a nook off the stairs. With a small smile, the billionaire picked up the bag and collected the notes that had been left from whenever Tim had last worked there. it was late, and the teen had begged off patrol tonight to work on his own projects in preparation for his trip to Paris. At this time in the early morning, it would be hit or miss whether he would still be awake. Many times, when Bruce would check on Tim, the teen was passed out at his desk or on his bed surrounded with projects.

Bruce knew that Tim was working himself to the bone before his trip to Paris. The teen had dug into the supervillain problem that Jared Stone’s niece had mentioned to him. Bruce really hoped that Tim hadn’t put together that Jason was related to the girl, because that could cause problems within the family. Not because of the actual connection, but the secrecy that he and Jason had used to handle it.

With sending Tim to Paris there was a certain media risk. The only reason that Bruce was willing to risk the media was the fact that his son was the most informed on the supervillain situation. That, and there was actual clean-up work that needed to be done after finding corruption in their Parisian office.

As the billionaire cracked open Tim’s door, a smile crossed the man’s face. The teen was curled up in bed, his desk cluttered with work, his computer still running. His shoes were kicked off to the side, and his skateboard was leaning against the wall by the closet door. At the end of the bed was his carry-on, open and partially packed. At the top of the bag, just visible from the door was a box that had been wrapped. In Tim’s (surprisingly elegant) script was the name ‘Marinette’. Bruce studied the box for a moment, before shaking his head and nothing to ask Tim in the morning.

Leaving the door cracked, Bruce stepped into the space and put his son’s bag and cacophony of papers on the top of his dresser, where he would look when it was time for him to pack his bags in the morning. With one last glance at the sleeping teen, Bruce closed the door to let the boy sleep.

Skater Tim? Skater Tim.

hiiiiiiiii! I'm back! what did you think of the look back into Gotham? I wanted to do something that would look at things from outside the little bubble of Mari and Tim, so we got some Bruce time. am I keeping Bruce as a good dad? yes, I am. I think that *technically* Tim didn't get adopted (I looked it up, but dudes, I got every version of yes and no out there. if ANYONE KNOWS FOR SURE, LET ME KNOW.). ANYWAYS I decided that I was throwing out any and all cannon early on, so if you know what the official version is, lmk, but it's really only so that I have references to work off of for character references.

now that we are expanding the miracusquad, should Tim get a Miraculous? which one? also, the reason that Mari is kinda...distant, is because she is planning on how to kick hawkmoth's ass.

Luka is getting his miraculous soon! will I actually follow cannon for once? Nobody knows!

tag list! @moonlitceleste @redscarlet95 @ultimatetornshipper @mochegato @liquid-luck-00 @maskedpainter @trippingovermyfeet @nathleigh @m0chick0furan @susiej1118 @t1dwarrior-of-earth @sassakitty @remy-289 @solangelo252 @corporeal-terrestrial @woe-is-me0 @toodaloo-kangaroo

#a moment in time fic #maribat #timari #sibling!jasonette #timinette #Chaotic Marinette #cat miraculous! Marinette #cat!marinette #My writing #im back!!!!!#hiiiiiiiiii its been so long #and tim is going to paris

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asfaltics · 3 years

Text

attended to his letters; a course of reducing exercises

or did you hear commentaries [ ] over the radio? I don’t have the time to do it. You don’t have time to do it. 1 and that, of course, you don’t have time to was taught the game 2 increasing the feed for / my dope, but you don’t have time 3 You don’t have time to investigate them fully yourself? No 4 It was hard work? — Yes, sir. You have to be fast and do the best you can. You don’t have time 5 for nearly everything; you don’t have time 6 You don’t have time to bother about your neighbors, and you don’t 7 enjoy our own com . pany , as we never have any chance to see friends around home, for you don’t have time after and before 8 And in some cases wastefully? — Not wastefully. Does not one involve the other? — I don’t see it in that light. A man applies for relief. You don’t have time to see that man. 9 you don’t have time to spend one hour in thinking every day to see your business in a bigger, better, and cleaner way than it is today. [ ] desk covered with papers, unfinished business, no time to see 10 the “ticket” for large swamps. You don’t have time 11 You see, when you’re on the news end of a thing like this you don’t have time to get worked up. 12 “Well,” she said, “I suppose you are so busy at the office you don’t have time. 13 you are so terribly busy that I suppose you don’t have time to feel lonesome. Why can’t girls do something like that, too? 14 “How did you like it down there?” he asked. “Well” — she paused thoughtfully — “down there you can keep busy. There’s something to do all the time; you can keep so occupied that you don’t have time to stop and think and feel.” 15 you don’t have time to think of danger” But one foggy morning not long after... 16 today. always say you don’t have time to read. ward, like a girl 17 By the time he had days. When you’re busy you don’t have time to attended to his letters. 18 a course of reducing exercises, you don’t have time to think of that. I don’t believe I’m abnormal, perhaps I am, but 19 Well, I use two formulas; saying you “don’t have time” is part of the world of citation. Saying you “have time” is part of the world of translation. I think that the questioning typical of translation has always been absent in the plastic arts. 20

sources ( “you don’t have time,” all but two pre-1923 )

1 ex reporters’ transcript, April 20, 1959, The People of the State of California, Plaintiff, vs. Louis Estrada Moya, et al., Defendent, being part of the Transcript of Record, Supreme Court of the United States, October Term, 1960, No. 186, Luis Estrada Moya, Petitioner, vs. California on write of certiori to the Supreme Court of the State of California (petition filed June 9, 1960; granted June 27, 1960) : 200 aside — Google misdated this 1832; 1960 was outside of my search range. A well-known case (I was too young at the time to know it). Some sources : ◾ “A mother-in-law’s murder for hire scheme results in death penalty for all three participants” at vcdistrictattorney, in which this : “What made the case unique? The hired killers testified against Mrs. Duncan without commitment [that] the District Attorney would not seek the death penalty in exchange for their testimony... In fact, all three received the death penalty and were executed. Of course, today’s appellate courts would likely reverse a case in which a defense attorney failed to seek sentencing concessions in exchange for testimony.” ◾ Arlene Martinez, “Love, scandal and murder: Ventura County case drew national attention,” VC Star (June 29, 2013) ◾ Alice de Sturler review of Jim Barrett his definitive Ma Duncan at Defrosting Cold Cases (October 17, 2020) ◾ Cecelia Rasmussen, “A Mother’s Love Was the Death of Her Daughter-in-Law,” Los Angeles Times (January 20, 2002; paywall) ◾ Joan Renner, “Dead Woman Walking: Elizabeth Ann ‘Ma’ Duncan,” parts 1-4 (2013) at Deranged LA Crimes (True 20th Century tales of murder, mayhem, political corruption, and celebrity scandal) and, finally, ◾ wikipedia 2 OCR cross-column misread, at Annie Eliot, “John Emerson Gaines’s Love Affairs,” The Manhattan 2:5 (November 1883) : 467-475 (468) snippet view only, opens to hathitrust. Annie Eliot Trumbull (1857–1949), author of novels, short stories, and plays; associated with Hartford, Connecticut’s “Golden Age”. wikipedia 3 OCR cross-column misread at H. E. Browing on “Pig Tails,” at The Swine World (Google titles it Poland China World) 5:2 (September 1917) : 11 4 ex Statement of William E. Johnson, chief special officer, United States Indian Affairs, before Committee on Indian Affairs, re: Senate Resolution No. 263 (Washington, 1910) : 367-400 (392) an intense exchange, on sale of alcohol on reservations. William E. “Pussyfoot” Johnson (1862-1945) was an energetic and resourceful prohibitionist and law enforcement officer. (wikipedia) 5 here, Julius Baum, examined by J. R. Lamar (January 29, 1896), in Contested Election Case of Thomas E. Watson Vs. J.C.C. Black, from the Tenth Congressional District of the State of Georgia, and published in/by the U.S. Congress, Committee on Elections (Washington, 1896) : 535 aside — an episode in the dismantling of Reconstruction institutions and Black suffrage. ◾ Thomas E(dward). Watson (1856-1922) (wikipedia). ◾ Watson is discussed in Jo Ann Whatley, her remarkable MA thesis Pike County Blacks : the spirit of populist revolt and White tolerance (1891-1896) as depicted in the Pike County Journal and other related sources (Atlanta University, 1984), available here ◾ Watson was succeeded by James C(onquest). C(ross). Black (1842-1928) (wikipedia). “Black was declared the winner of the election but Watson charged that the vote was fraudulent. Black agreed to resign his seat just after the opening of the 54th Congress so that a new election could be held. In the October 1895 special election, Black prevailed over Watson again, and thus took his seat back to fill the vacancy caused by his own resignation.” J.C. C. Black entry, at Biographical Directory of the United States Congress 6 ex Investigation of Hazing at U. S. Military Academy, being “Testimony taken by the Select Committee of the House of Representatives appointed to investigate and report on the alleged hazing and resulting death of Oscar L. Booz, late a cadet at the Military Academy, and upon the subject of the practice of hazing at the said academy.” (1901) : 776 7 another contested election, here Mrs. Louise Roller under cross-examination by Mr. Goldsmith, in Scholl, Charles L. Vs. Bell, Henry A. Jefferson Circuit Court (Louisville, Kentucky), Chancery Branch: First Division, Chas. L. Scholl, Plaintiff Vs. Henry A. Bell, Defendant. No. 41519. / Second Division, Arthur Peter, Plaintiff Vs. Chas. A. Wilson, Defendant, No. 41524. : “Contested election cases heard together,” Transcript of Record, Volume 8 (10 volumes in 9) : 39 (snippet only, but in full at hathitrust) 8 ex report from Washington Division (by Cert. 9730), 23:5 (May 1906) [number/month uncertain, could be June] : 712 (opens to hathitrust; found via google snippet view) 9 ex the “Poplar Inquiry,” here an examination of Mr. P. G. Miles, Relieving Officer, in Transcript of Shorthand Notes taken at the Public Inquiry held by J. S. Davy, C.B., Chief General Inspector of the Local Government Board, “into the general conditions of the Poplar Union, its pauperism, and the admnistration of the guardians and their officers.” Presented to both Houses of Parliament... (London, 1906) : 141 On the Poplar workhouse, see workhouses.org.uk (scroll down (near bottom) to “The Poplar Union Scandal and Inquiry”). ◾ Poplar is a district in East London (wikipedia) 10 ex E. Elmo Martin (Cleveland, Ohio), “How to hand the day’s work,” in National Lime Association Proceedings (Twentieth Annual Convention, Cleveland, Ohio; June 13-16, 1922) : 68-76 (73) (snippet view; full view at hathitrust) 11 ex H. Stimmons (Stark Co., Ohio), “More about coon hounds,” Hunter-trader-trapper 25:3 (December 1912) : 87-89 (88) (snippet view at Google, but full view at hathitrust, NW second paragraph) 12 ex Wayland Wells Williams (“author and artist,” 1888-1945), The Whirligig of Time (Frederick A. Stokes, 1916) : 335 Wayland Wells Williams papers at Yale YCAL MSS 551 13 ex T.I.M., “Dimpleton Stays at Home : A Story with a Real Moral,” in Life (July 25, 1907) : 155-158 (156) 14 snippet view only, at The Cactus (Austin, Texas; 1908) : 275 A journal “published by and for the students of the University of Texas”; 1907 and 1909 (but not 1908 alas) at hathitrust. 15 “down there” being Chicago, ex Henry Oyen (1883-1921), chapter 36 of “Big Flat,” in The Country Gentleman 84: (March 8, 1919) : 20, 22, 57-59 The novel was published in 1919, same passage at p 204 (NYPL copy) ◾ Haven't located much information about Oyen; his published work is listed at his Online Books page 16 Homer Randall. Army Boys in the French Trenches Or, Hand to Hand Fighting with the Enemy (New York: George Sully & Company, 1918) : 199 Six “Army Boys” titles were produced by the Stratemeyer Syndicate 1918-1920, all under the pseudonym Homer Randall : Army Boys in France, Army Boys in the French Trenches, Army Boys on the Firing Line, Army Boys in the Big Drive, Army Boys Marching into Germany, and Army Boys on German Soil (stratemeyer.org) ◾ The Stratemeyer Syndicate records (1832-1984; bulk 1905-1984) are at NYPL ◾ See also Stratemeyer pseudonyms and series books : an annotated checklist of Stratemeyer and Stratemeyer Syndicate publications / compiled and edited by Deidre Johnson (1982); Deidre Johnson, Edward Stratemeyer and the Stratemeyer Syndicate (Twayne Publishers, 1993); and wikipedia 17 OCR cross-column misread at Harriet Winton Davis, “With the Children : Don’s Knitting,” in The Congregationalist and Advance (August 29, 1918) : 241 Other (not this) issues at hathitrust 18 OCR cross-column misread (extended here), ex H. D. Morgan, Ph. C., “The Kid,” in the section Original and Selected : From the best writers, and the leading drug, medical, chemical and scientific publications of the world, in Practical Druggist and Pharmaceutical Review of Reviews (November 1908) : 529-534 19 Frank R. Adams (1883-1963), “The Heart Pirate,” (illustrations by Charles D. Mitchell), in The Cosmopolitan 72:3 (March 1922) : 43-48, 117-118 (44) — snippet view, but opens at hathitrust More — “... yell for a diet and start doing a course of reducing exercises, you don’t have time to think of that. I don’t believe I’m abnormal, perhaps I am, but just since this afternoon I have come to the conclusion that if you want to put down crime you’ve got to suppress more than just alcohol — you’ve got to suppress the modern flapper. They’re so damnably desirable...” (It gets worse...). See wikipedia; author’s papers at Oregon 20 ex Giuseppe Caccavale : in giardino, a buon fresco (content by Laura Cherubini, Giuseppe Caccavale, Chiara Bertola and Claudia Gian Ferrari; Charta, 2009) : 77

Needed another line, and thought Samuel Beckett might provide. Search yielded no Beckett, but the above passage, fitting in its way and no more nor less ambiguous than anything else here. something recent — Giuseppe Caccavale « Projet Paul Celan », Residence Concordia, Parigi gennaio-ottobre 2020; testo e foto dell’artista. (1 February 2021)

method

A friend reminded me, recently, that I don’t have time (for what is irrelevant here). Have been ruminating on (avoiding the consequences of) this, since. And thinking too about the place dimension of time, as discussed by Veronica O’Keane in her The Rag and Bone Shop : How we make memories and memories make us (2021) — “One’s sense of time is inseparable from events, but this is a sense of time. Might time have something to do with place cells?” (107) and “The whole concept of time is generally unhelpful in understanding science, be it physics or neuroscience... From the perspective of recording events, the present is consciousness. In a seemingly ironic twist, I myself think that the only place that time does not exist is in the moment of consciousness...” (113)

The encountered lines — all included above from my search in pre-1923 sources — have found their respective though non-chronological places in a kind of rocking, panning motion, in which sediments settle into their respective ripples / couplets.

Would, could, does this — sequence — work (whatever “work” means) without the anchorings / tetherings / bibliographic wastefull(ness; line 9 above) that follow it? They were needed in the making, anyway, and for there to be sufficient distraction for the making to sustain.

all subject to change.

#contested elections #couplet #time #swamps #waste #Poplar Inquiry #Giuseppe Caccavale #William E. Pussyfoot Johnson

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