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suiseisyojo · 7 months

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skip, step, turn♪

「tenshouin eichi x vivian // kiteichi」 ↳ commission for @yumebait ! wc: 1842 a/n: yay more kieichi! some angst lingering between the lines, but i hope you enjoy all the same! thank you for commissioning me, viv!

“Eichi—Eichi, are you awake?”

Wispy and nearly muted, Vivian called out to her childhood friend settled next to her in the king-sized bed; and when she heard silence, she knew she had to make the venture out of the bedroom alone.

The incredibly daunting venture.

What if she ran into one of Eichi’s family members? Or the on-site staff? They’ll look at her like she’s a nugatory bug worth no more than the dirt beneath their shoes as they always do whenever their haughty eyes meet hers.

Swallowing anxiously, the seam of her throat exacerbating in dryness, Vivian slowly slipped out from underneath the covers and left the only safe spot she knew in this mansion.

Vivian still hadn’t retained the layout of Eichi’s capacious home, and she knew for a fact that she was going to get lost at some point.

Crystals and ornate glass sculptures reflected purity all around her—or rather, perhaps, it was a lack thereof as it all felt so hollow. Even if her countenance was mirrored in the pellucid ornaments, Vivian surmised it didn’t seem right because she knew that Eichi truly doesn’t feel at home here.

Continuing to wander the contrived hallways with a sense of wonderment for the decorations, trying to navigate each lengthy stretch, Vivian felt utterly hopeless.

All she wanted was a glass of water⋯!

Vivian peered into a random room, discerning what appeared to be a bedroom within—although it seemed as if it was memorialised with the clear tarpaulins enveloping each piece of furniture. It clearly hadn’t been used in a long, long time.

And she kept discovering more and more rooms like that.

The entire house felt so empty, unlived in. The thought made Vivian sad, believing that even Eichi’s home imitated the vacant hospitals he was often confined to against his own will. Were all rich people so thoughtless with their homes? Aren’t homes supposed to parallel a feeling of solace and closeness?

Upon meandering some more, Vivian made her way into a grandiose room—veneered on the walls were ostentatious designs of unbridled luxury, golden and white in colour. Of course. Multiple chandeliers were casted from the high-rise ceiling; it was almost too much.

With the beams of moonlight filtering through the diaphanous curtains, Vivian for a moment felt like an itinerant princess in olden fairy tales.

Ambling into the middle of the space, Vivian couldn’t help but twirl fatuously to revel in the ambiance that would never belong to her. Yet the daydream was interrupted by the creaking of the doors, the clamour resounding and echoing not only throughout the room, but in the crevice of her chest.

Preparing to throw herself to the floor in shame and apols, Vivian scrutinised Eichi as the one stepping inside. Wasn’t he asleep?

“Vivian, here you were,” Eichi laughed, padding into the ballroom to come closer to her, “I woke up and you weren’t there. I was lonely, you know.”

“Not worried?” Vivian bantered back with a sheepish chortle, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she realised he caught her playing around like a child.

“Well, I know you’d be safe in the Tenshouin home, so no; I wasn’t worried♪” Eichi said as he marvelled at her alluring movements, the sight of her embarrassed visage made his skin tingle with a featherlike ripple.

Once Eichi reached her side, Vivian could perceive the lurid exhaustion rimming his blue irises; and she thought that he shouldn’t have gotten up to look for, even if the gesture made her nerves burst with exultation.

“I see you found the ballroom.”

“Are you sure you don’t live in a castle?”

Shaking his head, Eichi swept his gaze upwards; an almost wistful glisten shining in his eyes. “It must feel like that to you. What do you think? Do you like it?”

There seemed to be some sort of implication in his question, with how he spoke it so subduedly and yet with a barely concealed yearning.

“Do I like it? Well, I don’t think it matters?” Vivian softly began, although she knew she always dreamed of being like a real princess⋯ walking through the halls earlier just made her sick to her stomach. “I think I’d only like it if you were constantly by my side.”

Quickly, Vivian realised what nuance those words might’ve held, and got flustered over the notion that Eichi might catch on to the wrong idea. “L-Like, or a staff member? Who needs big hallways like that to make yourself just feel smaller, you know?!”

A gale of effervescent laughter oozed from Eichi’s vocals, the noise resonating with Vivian’s timorous feelings and making her heart flutter. “That’s a good way to put it,” Eichi couldn’t help but affirm her thoughts, “it’s like imagining an idol on stage with no one in the audience.”

“That would never happen to you!” Vivian felt the overwhelming need to reassure Eichi, a firm and staunch worry laced in her voice; so completely protective over his well-being. “I’d always be watching you! I promise!”

A genuine smile curved on Eichi’s lips as his precious childhood friend avowed her loyalty to his career; to him.

Eichi strode further into the ballroom, admiring it for all that it is—and isn’t. A snapshot of a desolate venue coruscated across his vision, his gut twisting with wretched inquietude. For Eichi, it wasn’t only himself he concerned himself with⋯ it was all idols.

“That makes me happy. I’d be able to give it my all if you were in the audience at every performance,” airy and light, Eichi said that to her; another heap of a faraway longing glazing over his eyes. “But I know it’s impossible for you to be at every single one as much as I wish for it.”

Feeling her heart squeeze, Vivian made a silent pledge to herself to do her best to fulfil that wish—even if it seemed impossible. After all, the princesses in every fairy tale always find a way! Although, maybe her role was better fitted for the loyal sidekick⋯⋯

“What’s with that sad expression, Vivian?”

“O-Oh, nothing⋯!” Vivian hastily dismissed his solicitousness, before saying, “We should head back to bed, right? It’s not good for you to be missing sleep like this.”

“You got up from bed for a reason, didn’t you? Besides, I heard that staying up late to cause chaos is commonplace for sleepovers, fufu♪” Eichi was insouciant, impervious to the concern in her words and she didn’t know why.

“I just wanted a glass of water,” Vivian shyly laughed at the thought. “I ended up finding this place instead.”

For a moment, Eichi looked lost in thought.

“Before we head back, why don’t we take advantage of having the ballroom to ourselves?” Eichi queried, extending out a hand to her, “Usually it’s filled with both familiar and unfamiliar faces; strangers I’m supposed to pretend to know, when I never truly will.”

That statement along only accentuated the loneliness Vivian knew Eichi was endlessly plagued with, and she reached forward on a rupture of courage to seize his hand into her own as he offered it. “I-I don’t really remember a lot of the fancy dance moves you taught me, but I’d love to dance with you, Eichi!”

Those were the words he wanted to hear.

“We don’t have anyone to play music for us, so I’ll hum, how does that sound?” Eichi asked whilst gently pulling Vivian back into the middle of the dance floor.

Nodding her head eagerly, Vivian chirped, “Perfect! Your singing voice is so pretty anyway.”

Vivian was sincere in her plaudit, trying her best to stave off the embarrassment beginning to swell in her gut as she felt Eichi press his body against hers.

Guiding her hands around him, placing them on his shoulder and into her hand, Eichi leaned down and whispered in her ear, hot breath fanning over the shuddering lobe, “Are you ready?”

Humming once she quietly voiced her willingness, Eichi’s euphonious and mellow voice filled the room; imbuing grace and pulchritude in the clefts of solitude and emptiness.

The two of them were garbing their pyjamas in the middle of an exalted ballroom, streams of glorious moonlight highlighting their frames as they slowly began to move together in tandem with Eichi’s beats.

There was something so cherished and splendid about the scene.

And for a moment, with the light shining upon his mien, Vivian thought she saw Eichi blushing. Was he feeling just as self-conscious as she was? Being this close to Eichi in such an intimate setting⋯ it made her heart take flight. Was that weird of her? But what if he was feeling the same? No way⋯ they’re just friends.

“Ah, Vivian, it’s a step back here,” Eichi genteely corrected her, albeit she heard a tincture of mirth underscoring his tone. As if he was covertly amused by her faults.

“I-It is⋯?!” she squeaked, desperately trying to fix her posture and steps. How many times had Eichi taught her this simple dance? And yet she can never get it right. It wasn’t her fault, she thought, having him stare at her with such rapt attention as they dance was making her too tense and nervous. “Sorry⋯”

“Fufu, don’t apologise. It’s cute to watch you being all fidgety♪” Eichi’s voice is hushed in the air as he took a cursory moment to respond to her, his singing stopping; yet he was still able to guide her immaculately as if it never did stop at all.

Beneath her flustered state, Vivian couldn’t help but be in awe at how impressive Eichi was. Even though he looks patently exhausted, he’s still able to effortlessly swirl her around to perfection whilst talking; balancing all that on himself.

“Geez, d-don’t call me that!”

“Cute? But you are,” Eichi innocently remarked, although he was anything but. “Can’t someone compliment his favourite friend?”

Ah, right. Stop getting ahead of yourself, Vivian. She chastised herself, telling herself it was completely normal for friends to compliment each other. As a plethora of thoughts gyrated in Vivian’s head, it only magnified her diffidence.

Abruptly, and not in accordance with the dance he taught her, Eichi spun Vivian and dipped her; displaying his strength, discombobulating her and causing her to yelp.

“You’re making that face again, Vivian,” Eichi started, almost tentatively, and kept her suspended in the air as he supported her with all his might. “I suppose it’s rude to comment so often on a lady’s appearance, though. I’m sorry.”

But for Eichi, it was difficult. He was ceaselessly paying attention to Vivian’s diverging faces and expressions, but he could never tell her why.

Bringing her back onto her feet, Eichi wondered why the distance between them suddenly felt so large. Their bodies were flush against one another, with Eichi feeling her heat and how the fabric of their silken pyjamas slid together with every motion they make together, yet he couldn’t reach into her mind; her heart.

This home of his is truly lonely, isn’t it?

#yume fics #commissions #kiteichi

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moongirlcleo · 1 year

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headcanons for sting eucliffe with a professional ice (figure) skating fem s/o or crush? how does the blondie behave in that scenario.. cause i’m picturing him calling it easy and then falling on his ass and embarrassing himself on the first date 😭. and also how her friends (fairytail) and his friends would react to the whole thing. by the way, friendly reminder that you are SPECTACULAR!!!

awww bby YOU are spectacular <3 I got you ! This blonde dumb dumb would totally do something like that lol !

Sting x Fem Skater Crush:

"Hey, what do you say you and I go on a little date after the matches today?" The blonde dragon slayer smirked at you, leaning back and awaiting your answer.

Truth be told, you'd had your eye on him since you first saw him a few days ago. Determined to play coy, you smirked back and gave him a sly smile.

"If you can convince me, I may be willing to say yes."

The smirk on Sting's face faltered for a moment, before recovering.

“I don’t need to convince you, princess. By the end of the day, you’ll be wanting that date.”

You eyed the blonde up and down, tempted to give in. But the attitude Sting was displaying was more than displeasing. No, you decided. Two can play this game.

“Win against my guild mate later and I may even let you take me on a second.”

Sting’s eyes lit up at the taunt, knowing he’d be fighting against Natsu.

“You got it, babe. What’s your favorite food?”

…

Needless to say, the match between the two dragon slayers ended in a massive W for the Fairy Tail guild. You were sat at the bar with your friends the next day, when you remembered your exchange with Sting. Guilt flooded through your system. You’d only wanted to give back some attitude, not outright turn the blonde down.

Before long, you were walking down the roads in search of the Sabertooth guild residence.

A downcast Sting sat outside the motel, covered in bandages. Quietly, you sat next to him and gave him a playful nudge.

“So, where are we going?” You asked, giggling as Sting jumped in fright. He gave you a scowl.

“Jesus, a ‘hey, it’s me’ would’ve been nice,” he grumbled. “Here to rub it in you all won?”

You frowned. “No, I was coming to see if that date was still on the table.”

A small rosy tint crossed Sting’s visage.

“Thought you’d only go on a date with me if I won.”

“Hey now, I only said I’d consider a second date if you won.” You gave him a wink.

Sting’s face perked up.

“Wait, you were joking? No way.”

His outburst caused you to laugh. “Of course, I’d already planned on accepting, but you were acting a little too cocky so I figured I’d mess with you. Have you ever gone ice skating before?”

“No, why do you ask?”

You blinked a moment before gesturing to your left.

“Well, on the way here, I passed an ice skating rink and I love ice skating, so let’s go!” You pulled Sting up and rushed toward the slab of ice, trying not to chuckle at the confused look on the dragon slayer’s face.

Once you arrived to the rink, you stole a glance at the blonde. His features were unreadable as he realized you two weren’t alone. It had seemed as if team Natsu were already here, making themselves quite at home, much to your disbelief.

“This can’t be that hard,” he muttered to himself. “It’s just ice. I got this in the bag.” Sting looked toward Natsu, the remnants of the match still fresh on his mind. You took that moment to grab his hand and pull him toward the ice.

“It’s really not that hard, Sting. Watch me!” You requipped some ice skates on your feet and began pushing off, twirling around in circles. He watched you as you moved, nodding in amazement.

“Do you do this shit often?” He called out to you.

“Yeah, man, didn’t you know yn is a professional figure skater?” Gray Fullbuster replied for you.

A blush bloomed across your cheeks. “It’s not that serious ice boy, shut up.”

Motioning for Sting to follow, you pushed off the ice once again and made your way back toward the other end of the ice.

He hesitated only slightly, stepping onto the ice. Sting gave you a small smile, concentrating on remaining upright.

You nodded in encouragement. “Come on, push your right foot back and coast forward.”

Sting did as you’d told, and he began coasting. He gave you a wide smile.

“Look, I totally got this!” He moved faster, and in an instant both of your smiles turned to fear as he steadily moved faster until a loud thud could be heard.

Sting had crashed headfirst into the boards.

You covered your mouth in surprise, while your friends looked on and howled with laughter.

Sting’s face was beet red, a mix from the cold ice and humiliation. Skating over to him, you knelt down and gave him a small peck on the cheek.

“Hey,” you murmured. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone falls, sometimes. Wanna just grab something to eat?”

The blonde gave you a smile and shook his head. “Are you kidding? Yn, that was so much fun. I may not be able to beat Natsu in a fight yet, but I’ll be damned if he can beat me at ice skating. Show me how to get better.”

You stifled a groan and helped your crush up. With a smile, you taught him the ropes of skating, the promise of a second date in the air.

#fairy tail #fairy tail headcanon #fairy tail headcanons #sting eucliffe #sting x reader #q

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noses-in-winter · 1 year

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Innoportune for Solara?

Thanks so much for my first prompt ask, yay! Okay so this is about my angry fairy princess OC Solara who has the SUPER rockin hot body of the fairy goddess. She wears an outfit made of ceremonial daisy petals, buuuuut she is very allergic to it. She's also a very petite individual but has a loud, violent sneeze that is very un-princesslike, so there really is no opportune time for her to sneeze.

It's in the POV of Callum, her sweet servant who's mute but loves her very much and would do anything for her! I wouldn't label this nsfw but it DOES have descriptions of her, um, overactive chest with her overactive sneezing.

2.4k words, f sneezes, tiddy descriptions, PLEASE DON'T REBLOG TO NON-KINK BLOGS PLEEEASE

There was always a very limited window of time for Princess Solara to sport the ceremonial daisy bralette. Even when overloading herself with antihistamines, the chokehold that daisy pollen had on her was ultimately unstoppable. That’s why Kien the royal painter had been told to work fast to paint Solara in the bralette before she could wind up sneezing every last petal off. If yet another portrait had to be restarted due to the interruption of Solara’s allergic sneezing fits…Well. Callum knew that the Queen would be having a very different kind of fit in response.

He sat patiently on the window seat, silently observing the portrait at hand. Callum would occasionally peek at Kien’s canvas as he painted the visage of Solara, but the majority of his attention was on the princess herself. She was…not faring well. Root-based allergy potions always got her sleepy and a touch disoriented, a stark difference from her typical fiery personality. Solara’s nose had evidently missed the memorandum that said potion was meant to last several hours. It had only been two since Kien began painting, and Solara was already beginning to scrunch her nose with persistent sniffles. That’s how it always started, with harmless, delicate sniffling that steadily grew damper and heavier as time went on. He supposed that was rather how Solara was as an individual; Seemingly the proper, fragile princess that grew increasingly difficult to deal with as one got to know her.

“Hold still, Princess,” Kien urged, using a small brush to paint the hundreds of tiny petals of the bralette.

Even as the antihistamines took away most of her typical awareness, Solara scowled with pink eyes flashing in irritation. “And just whaddoyou think I’m--sdff, trying to do here, Kien?” she asked, words beginning to run together slightly.

“I just--”

“No, I’d like knowing wha’ you’ve thought m’goal has been this--snf--entire--snff! Damned time. Enlighten me.”

Callen looked over to Callum, silently asking for help. Callum pursed his lips into a flat line and simply offered the painter a shrug. Kien sighed and nodded, leaning back behind his canvas to avoid Solara’s glower. “Nothing, Princess.”

Solara’s frown softened, though she was still evidently unhappy. She simply focused back on her posing with a sniffle. Callum had to admit that it was…difficult not to stare. Princess Solara was considered to be the end all, be all of Aurorian beauty, and for good reason. The bralette didn’t cover much, allowing her full chest to rest mostly exposed in the sunshine filtering through the grand windows. One strap hung loose on one shoulder, simply allowing the daisy petal garment to slip lower down her chest. Her nipples weren’t quite exposed yet, but Callum kept an eye out in case more of her areolas became visible. He knew she would very much not want the bra to get that low. Solara didn’t seem to notice amidst her concentrated sniffling, and Kien evidently wasn’t interested in adjusting it. Callum supposed it made sense for the Aurorian princess to show off as much of her body as possible for a portrait, but he wondered if Kien knew or cared how sick of the public sexualization Solara got.

Kien leaned back on his stool, examining his work with a slight tilt to his head. He nodded over to Callum. “Would you go tuck the hair on her right side over her shoulder? I’d like an unobscured look at the cups of the bralette.”

Callum obeyed without question, rising from his seat to go to Solara’s side. He offered her a soft smile as he took her curls in hand. He tucked the hair behind her shoulder, fingers inadvertently brushing along her bare skin as he did so. A warm blush spread over Callum’s face as he flashed her an apologetic wince, but Solara was oblivious. She was currently sniffling at a much faster pace than before, freckled nose scrunching to the left and right. She let out a shaky, whining little breath as her running nose escaped the confines of her nostrils to slide down onto her upper lip.

“Fuck…” she swore, shoulders shuddering as she crossed her eyes to look at her nose. She made a valiant effort to sniffle the beads of mess back into her nostrils, but Solara’s attempts proved useless. While she didn’t move her head, her eyes flickered up to the painter. “Kien, I need---”

“Not yet,” he said, motions speeding up as he captured the visage of the royal before him. “Don’t move.”

“I--”

“Just a few more minutes.”

Princess Solara looked to Callum next with an expression of pleading that only he ever saw. Solara was an…angry individual, to put it kindly, but she knew that she could turn to her lad-in-waiting in times of crisis. “C-Callum…?”

He knelt to her side immediately, collecting the handkerchief from his breast pocket. A Solara in her right mind would have sooner screamed than allow Callum, or anyone, near her nose. This Solara, however, was only a fraction of her regular self at the moment. She hardly seemed to react at all initially, eyes crossing once again to look at the center of her face. Callum gingerly folded the handkerchief over her freckled nose, using all the care in the world as he wiped the underside. Solara’s cheeks began to visibly darken. Instead of shoving his hand away or barking at him, she simply looked away from Callum’s eyes with a sniffle. “Th-....Thank you, Callum,” she murmured.

Despite Solara being unable to see him, Callum gave her a nod and a reassuring smile. After all he did for Solara on a daily basis, cleaning up her nose was hardly notable for him. Solara, of course, would be apoplectic once her antihistamines (and allergy attack) wore off, but Callum could handle it. He could handle anything about her.

“Stay close,” Kien requested of Callum, nothing but focus on his face as he painted. “In case she needs you again.”

Warmth bloomed in Callum’s chest. In case she needed him again. Callum was quite vocally disliked throughout the entirety capitol, and yet he was somehow good enough for Princess Solara to need. He nodded, remaining seated at her side.

Solara continued to sniffle, though her nose didn’t run as it had a moment ago. She inhaled and exhaled through parted lips in some attempt to keep her nose as unbothered as possible, but Callum was very aware that this wouldn’t last long. He wasn’t sure if Solara was capable of that realization at the moment, though.

As he expected, it didn’t take long for Solara’s nostrils to flare into perfect little circles with a hitch of her breath. Her lashes fluttered shut as she drew one hand up to fan beneath her nose.

“Nonono!” Kien pleaded, gesticulating to Solara. “Stay as you were! Just a minute longer!”

A low whine rumbled in Solara’s throat as she set her hand back in its previous position on the fainting couch. She sniffled sharply, nose starting to scrunch irritably to the side. “I need to s-sneeze,” she said pointedly to Kien, words beginning to snag.

Kien nodded, dipping his brush into a brilliant daisy cream shade of paint. “I understand. We’re nearly there. I’ve just got to finish getting all the petals, so you won’t have to wear the bralette for our next session. Okay, Princess?”

Solara was evidently debating how much she wanted to avoid wearing the daisy bralette in the future. Without waiting for her to ask him, Callum cautiously extended the hand still holding his handkerchief. She stared at his hand for a beat before her eyes flickered up to Callum’s. Solara opened her mouth to speak before she instead trembled with a heady hitch of her breath. Her chest shuddered with the itchy little gasp. Callum pretended not to notice. “Hh--! I-I can’t help it. O-Okay--hehh--!”

He didn’t hesitate. Callum reached behind Solara, placing one steadying hand between her shoulder blades. With the other, he folded his handkerchief back over her nose. There wasn’t a moment to spare before Solara convulsed with a sneeze, doing her best to stay as still as possible. A massive feat, Callum thought, given how very…indelicate her sneeze was.

“HiYYshiyUHH!” she sneezed, just as voluminous and violent as usual. She very nearly forced the handkerchief from his hand with the strength of it. Warmth immediately flooded into the handkerchief with the productive release. Callum found himself glad that he’d made it in time. Daisy-induced sneezes were always terribly messy for Solara, and he knew she would have been horrified to sneeze openly at the moment. She wobbled in the aftermath, momentarily disoriented from that big sneeze.

Callum couldn’t blame his Princess for avoiding sneezing whenever possible. He supposed he would avoid it, too, if his sneeze was as aggressive as hers. It suited her loud personality, though, in a way he found painfully endearing.

Kien jumped in response, just as everyone did when hearing Princess Solara sneeze for the first time. “Fuck--ahem. Goodness. Bless, Prince--”

“Shut up,” Solara snarled at him, flashing Kien a pointed glare over the handkerchief. Just after, her eyes snapped shut all over again. Callum tightened his hold on the handkerchief over her nose to ensure it wasn’t at risk of being sneezed away. He wasn’t the strongest individual, so there wasn’t much he could do about the way she rocked back into the hand he held between her shoulder blades. Once again, Callum tried to avoid staring at the way her chest heaved with every sneeze. “Hh’shYYUH! Woah--!” she gasped when she rocked back.

Callum gave her a quiet look in the eye that he hoped communicated: I’ve got you.

Kien gasped. Callum was about to shoot the painter an unhappy look of his own before seeing exactly what Kien did: Half a dozen daisy petals shuddering off of the bralette’s wire frame with that last sneeze. “No--keep the petals intact!”

Callum didn’t need explanation for the importance of this. Solara’s breath was already seesawing in preparation for another sneeze. Callum rapidly looked between her face and the shuddering bralette. Her hitches were so strong that it began to shake a few petals off of it without even needing to sneeze yet.

He had seen this happen on many an occasion. One or two heavy, hard sneezes, and the bralette would begin falling apart. And Princess Solara was only full of heavy, hard sneezes.

“Hah--!”

He had two options, neither of them ideal. As Solara’s chest rose with a final hitch, Callum decided on the lesser of two evils to keep his Princess’ pride as intact as possible. He dropped the damp handkerchief in his lap and used both hands to hold her chest.

“HihHYYSHuh!”

Attempting to keep Solara’s chest from wobbling with a sneeze was as effective as trying to keep a shattered vase from crumbling. Callum tried, certainly, and he did succeed in cutting down on the amount of petals that could have been shaken free, but it did require holding both cups of the bralette with splayed fingers. Solara’s chest was so…much, that he couldn’t have held them otherwise.

This also involved Solara needing to sneeze without a handkerchief. She seemed to realize at the very last moment that her protective cover was now gone and managed to sneeze downward rather than straight ahead. Even with this precaution, a fine mist still settled on her chest as well as Callum’s forearms and hands.

He wasn’t perturbed. Callum simply hoped this wouldn’t be getting him slapped later. Even if it did, he would have rathered Solara be temporarily enraged with him than permanently humiliated by sneezing her bra to pieces in front of Kien. Callum didn’t distrust the painter, necessarily, but he didn’t think there were many people in the capitol who wouldn’t go bragging about getting to see the Princess completely topless. After an out of control sneezing fit, no less.

After her first love’s abandonment last year, Callum didn’t think Princess Solara could handle much more whispering about her.

Solara sniffled, blinking at Callum through teary lashes. She looked exhausted and embarrassed and--

“Good save! Just a few more---”

No. No few more minutes. Callum was a patient individual (he had to be to work for Solara) that anger didn’t come naturally to, but the sight of Solara’s discomfort mixed with Kien’s calloused response was enough to push him over that edge. Callum shot Kien a pointed frown and shook his head, beginning to discard his jacket. A few petals fell loose from the bralette once his hands were away, but not enough to send it falling apart yet. Solara was already getting a new sneezy expression on her face, so Callum worked quickly.

He wrapped his jacket around her shoulders, doing his best to close it over her ample chest. It didn’t cover them completely, but enough for the moment. He wrapped an arm around Solara and helped her to stand. She looked confused for a moment before that look crumbled with a wobbling chin. “Hh! HyYYshuHH!” she sneezed openly in front of her, another burst of mist dampening her chest. Callum gave her a squeeze in lieu of a blessing and had to resist the urge to use his handkerchief to dab at her chest to dry it.

“‘M sorry…” Solara murmured with a nose-crinkling snuffle.

Kien, of course, was less than thrilled. “No!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet and nearly knocking the easel over in the process. “Where are you--? No, no, we were nearly--”

“Kien.” Solara’s voice was unsteady as she let her head fall against Cananver’s shoulder. He smiled softly and squeezed her again. “Fucking deal w--hih! With it.”

He was still protesting as the princess and her lad-in-waiting left the room, Callum holding Solara protectively.

She was out of it. Her head lolled sleepily against him. She blinked up at Callum with a sniffle, raising one hand to rub under her nose. “I…I wanna take a nap,” she said just before she hitched with flared little nostrils again. This time, she was able to smother a sneeze into the arm of his jacket. “Ughh. I’b sorry…”

Callum shook his head, reaching up to smooth unruly locks from her forehead. He couldn’t tell her with words, so he could only hope that Solara felt how he would do anything for his Princess.

Always anything for his Princess.

#sneeze kink #sneeze fic #f sneeze #noses in writing #oc solara

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bedofthistles · 7 months

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The Little White Horse: Maria

An analysis and comparison of Maria Merryweather in both The Little White Horse and The Secret of Moonacre

TL;DR

Oh my darling Maria. I honestly love both versions of Maria. This girl has gone through so much, has done so much, and she deserves the world.

However, Maria is a tad bit different in The Secret of Moonacre than she is in The Little White Horse. While both of their stories are endearing and impactful, I do believe one is more harmful than the other.

Maria Merryweather, as described in the book, is a sweet, relatively happy girl, who is pure-hearted and brave. She is shown to have a love for her animal companions, the boy from her dreams who she played with as a child, her governess, her cousin, and Moonacre Valley. Her vices, however, are her vanity and a natural curiosity, or at least, those are the vices Goudge has told us are her vices.

“In this year of grace 1842 [Maria] was thirteen years old and was considered plain, with her queer silvery-grey eyes that were so disconcertingly penetrating, her straight reddish hair and thin pale face with its distressing freckles. Yet her little figure, small as that of a fairy's child, with a backbone as straight as a poker, was very dignified, and she had exquisite tiny feet, of which she was inordinately proud. They were her chief beauty, she knew, which was why she took, if possible, a more burning interest in her boots than in her mittens and gowns and bonnets.”

Maria is a lady born and bred, and already quite humble at the start . After her description, it's stated she knows that she qualifies as ‘plain’. She does take an interest in her clothes to make up for the fact that she is ‘plain’, however she is scolded for this almost immediately by the parson.

“Neatness of attire is to be commended in a woman," he told her, holding her hand in a grip of steel. “But not vanity. Vanity is of the devil. And excessive female curiosity is not to be commended either. Nip it in the bud, my dear, while there is time." So he had seen her patting her pelisse and stroking her muff. So he had noticed her trying to see over the door of the pew.”

After this moment, besides when she tries on her wedding dress and looks into Loveday’s mirror and sees the visage of the first Moon Princess, Maria doesn’t express as much care in her appearance or attire. Beyond describing the costumes laid out by Loveday, Maria’s opinions on her clothing is laid aside. The lesson being that she has put aside her ‘vanity’.

However, this is not true vanity.

In the myth of Echo and Narcissus, the Greek figure is described as so handsome that the first time he sees his own reflection, he becomes so enamored with it that he can not look away. So much so, that the nymph, Echo, who loved him, could not call him away. So engrossed was he with his reflection, that he fell in love with himself. This is true vanity, a gross, and over exaggerated self-love. True vanity is caring about yourself first, and is not limited to appearance, but can also concern the mind, intelligence, talent and many other things. It is valuing yourself over everyone.

Maria adjusting her skirts during a church service is not vanity, nor is acknowledging her small feet as her best quality. It may very well be that the Parson is warning her of a growing vanity, to not become so enamored with her appearance and looks, but again, Maria knows she is plain. I don’t think she’s at risk of falling in love with her reflection.

Furthermore, Maria is accosted for her ‘female curiosity’ not only by the Parson, but by Robin as well, who is so opposed to her pestering questions, that he will abandon her when she asks too many.

“Maria choked down her curiosity, for Robin had always hated being asked questions, and if she asked too many would disappear, and she did not want him to disappear just yet.”

“There was no answer, and looking up she saw that Robin had disappeared, even though as far as she knew she had not asked a single question.”

As well as other characters, and the narrative itself.

“Her own soul and stomach do not allow her to indulge in that feminine curiosity about the affairs of others which renders her presence so trying to the males whose domicile she shares." - Marmaduke Scarlet

“Maria was by this time getting used to living in a perpetual state of astonishment, and used to curbing her curiosity, so that at this startling piece of information she just nodded, and one question only escaped her.”

“I am afraid she was rather a bad-tempered old woman as well as a curious one…” -Loveday Minette

It is not only curiosity that Goudge is protesting, but specifically ‘female’ curiosity. However, I can’t imagine why Elizabeth has this gripe. She is a well-educated woman, having attended finishing school and college, most of the plot of LWH revolves around Maria finding out the truth of the Valley and all the evil that occupies it. Maria is constantly pursuing her curiosity, she finds the kitchen she was not shown, she learns who was leaving her biscuits and dresses, she learns the truth about Loveday and Sir Benjamin.

“Maria suddenly saw it all. Her curiosity was satisfied.”

It is an odd contradiction, for Maria to be scolded by a religious figure - who is only ever seen as wise, knowledgeable, and trustworthy - and for Maria to be punished for her curiosity by Robin, while the narrative revolves around her curiosity pushing the story forward. Without her curiosity, she never would have learned the truth about Loveday and Benjamin, about Marmaduke and the black cat Zacariah, and about how to bring peace back to the valley.

Goudge also writes Robin as queerly uncurious.

“Robin, haven't you any curiosity?" Maria demanded almost passionately. “Haven't you asked Loveday?", “No," said Robin. “Why should I? It isn't any business of mine. How I could manage to visit you in London was my business, and so I asked Mother about it. But it was nothing to do with me about her not wanting Sir Benjamin to know she lives here." Maria heaved a great impatient sigh. Truly the non curiosity of men was beyond her comprehension. As for herself, she felt that if she did not get to the bottom of what was between Loveday and Sir Benjamin before she slept tonight her curiosity would most certainly be the death of her. But it was no use asking any more questions of Robin.”

In the end, Robin M promises Maria that he will always tell her everything so that she will not have to ask him anything. And here, the pieces put themselves together. While Maria is reprimanded for her constant questions and female curiosity, she still needs to learn the truth, and the answer is quite simple:

“And I'll tell you," said Robin. “If I didn't you'd ask me so many questions that life would not be worth living."

Goudge does not argue that women cannot obtain knowledge, simply that it should come to her, that it is better to be told things than to ask and inquire after them. At least, this is how I have interrupted Maria’s story, and why the narrative punishes her for asking questions, while at the same time is required to give her answers in order for the story to continue.

Maria Merryweather, as presented in The Secret of Moonacre, is completely different.

The Little White Horse begins with Maria’s trip to Moonacre, while The Secret of Moonacre begins with the procession of George Merryweather’s funeral, switched from being Sir Benjamin’s cousin, they are now brothers, and we see Maria is distraught by this death. Not only did she lose her mother when she was young, but she has now lost her father. In LWH, the death of her parents and her orphanhood are plot devices used so that Maria can be a new comer to Moonacre, Goudge does not divulge Maria’s feelings on the passing of her father, and beyond the mention of his death in the first chapter, it is never brought up again.

Maria (TSOM) however, is seen to have dearly loved her father, she is proud to be his daughter, and defends him to her Uncle when he is called a coward. Maria moving from London to Moonacre is shown as a hard transition, she is used to the comforts and luxury of the city, and her preconceived notions about the country leave her in a despair.

“How could I possibly go to live in the country? Its full of… the countryside!”

When Maria arrives, Sir Benjamin very rudely brushes her and Miss Heliotrope’s concerns off.

What’s more, TSOM allows Maria her emotions, while LWH does not even consider the loss of her father to be a big deal, it severely impacts Maria. She is not only moving across the country, but she is dealing with grief. She also learns the truth about her father, that he was not as honorable as she believed, that he was murdered over his debts, and left his only child with nothing but a book. So now, as she deals with his death, she also has to reconcile this new understanding with her love of him.

From the very first few scenes, we learn that Maria is prideful: she is proud of her name and her father, her position and standing in life. That Maria is arrogant: she swipes dust off the walls of her tower and makes a face, she picks up a dated dress and rolls her eyes at it. That Maria is brave: when faced with four bandits she stands her ground against them. That Maria is curious: she asks her Uncle questions about the house, she wants to know why she isn’t allowed in the forest, she wonders about who is leaving her biscuits in her room, she’s curious about the white horse she sees. That Maria is a lady: that she is proper, and cares about her appearance. She is stubborn as she raises her voice against her Uncle, she is fierce as she storms a castle all on her own, she is just a young girl trying as hard as she can to save a place that she has fallen in love with.

The Secret of Moonacre does deal with Maria’s curiosity, however it is dealt with and punished in a different way. Maria (LWH) asks questions, and annoys Robin Minette, Maria (TSOM) asks deep, cutting, personal questions, and learns that doing so can hurt the person she is asking. Maria (TSOM) is not punished for her curiosity as much as she’s punished for being callous.

In the end, Maria is right for asking these questions, for pushing, because without doing so, she never would have been able to understand the Valley, nor her Uncle.

For a brief interlude, I want to talk about the Sir Benjamin’s. In the book, Sir Benjamin is a jovial man, who is kind and loving to Maria as soon as she arrives. In the movie, Sir Benjamin is a deeply wounded man, heartbroken due to his actions in regards to Loveday and the fact that his brother has just been murdered, despite doing all he could to try and save him. Sir Benjamin offered his brother a loan, enough for his debts to be covered, but George, and his “foolish pride” rejected this offer.

Sir Benjamin is doing his best, but is dragged down by his past, he is punished for his anger and how he dealt with Loveday, and is haunted by his brother’s death. He loves Maria, I would argue he loves her from the start, but he is in such turmoil, he cannot deal with her properly. He tries to keep her safe by telling her to stay out of the forest and by taking the Chronicles of Moonacre book from her, but struggles with going about it the right way.

Sir Benjamin in the book is just sexist. He’s proud of the fact that his home has been ‘woman-free’ for twenty-years, he is not distraught by the death of his cousin, nor is he very upset about having lost Loveday. While he still wears the coat she embroidered for him for their wedding day, Sir Benjamin doesn’t show sorrow or heartbreak, and it is very possible he is wearing it because it was well-made and he would not let it go to waste.

The big lesson of the movie is about letting go of one’s pride and stubbornness, and it is something that all of the characters struggle with. Maria’s pride in her name, Sir Benjamin’s stubbornness keeps him from Loveday and moving on, Loveday’s pride and stubbornness keeps her from returning to Sir Benjamin or her family, Robin’s pride in his clan, and the Coeur De Noir’s stubborn need for revenge.

I don’t think there is a singular moment in which Maria gives up her pride, such as Robin deciding to help her despite their names, but rather that there are a series of little moments in which she sacrifices her pride and stubbornness for the betterment of Moonacre Valley.

Stripping down to her underthings to escape Castle Black, she puts aside her ideas of what a lady can and cannot do by riding a horse, she takes care of Serena despite never having an animal to care of before, she tracks Robin down and asks for his help, begs for it practically, because she knows she cannot do it on her own, and of course, her ultimate sacrifice by jumping off the cliff is her putting aside all pride, and giving up her life (she doesn’t know she’s going to be saved by Unicorns!) for the sake of not only her family, but everyone in the Valley, including her ‘enemies’.

However, Maria never sacrifices herself for the sake of others. And, yes, I do know I just said Maria sacrifices herself by jumping from the cliff.

Maria (LWH) is told off for her vanity and curiosity, she is told, and learns, to cut off pieces of herself to become more accommodating and tolerable for the world around her, and, really, the men in her life. Maria silences herself, her voice, parts of who she is, to make the world easier for others.

Maria (TSOM) is prideful and stubborn up and until the very end.

“At the 5,000th moon I, Maria Merryweather, Moon Princess of Moonacre, do remove the curse that darkens this valley, take back what is yours!”

This is a very prideful statement, she is still prideful of her name, she is prideful to be the Moon Princess, and is very demanding of the Moon. Which is why when she throws the pearls, they return to her. Not just as a result of her own pride, but because everyone else still refuses to bow to the other.

“The 5,000th moon, the curse is coming true. If you can sacrifice your pride, we can save our families.” - Maria

“You first” - Sir Benjamin

“No, no, after you!” - Coeur De Noir

“I must do this myself.” - Maria Merryweather

When Maria jumps, and returns the pearls to the sea, and therefore the Moon, the Curse is broken. However, not because the pearls are returned, but because of her sacrifice, because she puts aside her pride.

When she returns - resurrected or resuscitated, however you would like to look at it - she is still Maria. She asks “Were you worried, Robin?” She stands tall amongst her peers and family, knowing that she accomplished what no one else could. She is filled with happiness and joy, and is rightly satisfied - or, prideful - at what she was able to accomplish with Robin. I believe the end of the film shows us that the Valley has been saved, not just through Maria’s sacrifice, but through everyone doing the same.

Robin listening to her in the forest, everyone running to the cliff’s edge, Benjamin asking for forgiveness and Loveday’s hand, Coeur De Noir stepping back and allowing the Merryweather’s their victory, choosing peace over revenge. The Secret of Moonacre’s final lesson is that peace can be reached through everyone working together, that the burden is not just on one person’s shoulders, and while, yes, one person can be a leader among the masses, the one forging ahead and fighting for peace, it is not one person and one alone that accomplishes this goal.

Maria Merryweather, in LWH, however, is laden with the burden of finding peace for everyone. It is her alone in the forest with Mr. De Noir, showing him the little white horse, her alone who brings Loveday and Benjamin together (with the help of others, of course, but it is primarily her plan), her alone who cuts off pieces of herself, sacrificing herself for the sake of others happiness. As Moon Princess - or Moon Maiden, as she is more commonly referred to as in the novel - she is the sole purveyor of peace and happiness for the Valley.

Both, Maria from TSOM and Maria from LWH, sacrifice themselves for the greater good. However, whereas Maria (TSOM) gives her life in a final act of love for Moonacre, Maria (LWH) gives up parts of herself to become more manageable.

One Maria is met with love and honor, while the other bows her head, and submits, shouldering the weight of Moonacre on her shoulders.

Prev | Final

#Maria Merryweather #I didn't talk about the miniseries because its irrelevant #the little white horse #the secret of moonacre #TLWH dissertation #I love both Maria's but I honestly think one's ending is much more tragic than the other

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madmanwonder · 9 months

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Prompt

Crossover

Shoto is enjoying his lunch, when Weiss interrupts it to ask him out with her cool personality. She is soon interrupted by Yang, who asks him out with her hot personality. That leads to them arguing with each other and pulling on his arm, Shoto is questioning his life choices.

Shoto in middle of eating his lunch when he saw the beautiful, icily and graceful snow-haired heiress walked up to his table with her icy blue orbs.

Weiss: Shoto. Would you have the honor to accept my offer to go on a d-

Before Weiss could speak anymore, the fairy-like princess was rudely interupted by Yang Xiao Long the hot-headed, loud and rambunctious brawler who had a huge grin spread across her lovely visage.

Yang: Yo, Melting Fire. What to hit up the club with your favorite girl in the world and a night of-

But just like Yang, she was rudely interrupted with Weiss grabbed on the surprised Shoto arm with cold glare.

Weiss: Back off you harlot! Shoto was about to take up my offer to court with me for this week!

Yang looking at Weiss with red eyes as she grabbed Shoto other armor with a possessive look.

Yang: Who want to date a flatboard with a dead fish personality when he can date a bombshell with a bombastic personality me~

Weiss: What did you said to me you cow-breasted bimbo!

The W and Y of Team RWBY begin to arguing with each other, trading insults and pulling on the poor confused Shoto who was stuck wondering what he did in his previous life to get his?

#rwby #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #my hero academia #shoto todoroki #crossover au #crossover au prompt #anon prompt #love triangle #poor shoto

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asphuxia · 1 year

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/ * MAYBE WE WILL WAKE UP SINGING. — guard mini 1

team guard minigame 1, group b.

They do not enter the dream. The dream bleeds into reality, and itself intends to draw blood.

At the first cry, moonlight tears into Eir’s rest, knife-bright and immediate— within moments, her companions rise and gather. Despite the hour well into the night, their war-trained minds are equipped to respond; each pushes aside their bleariness, taking up arms. Soon enough, they are split off into patrols of three, lined up against Rusalka’s fortress walls. What lurks within the night beyond, advancing steadily in assault, waits not for them. The night arrives despite the day's protest.

All around them, wood splinters and cracks, crumbling surely beneath siege. Ahead, and out of reach, death’s heir makes out the figure of a shadow, rising in motion— followed by a thick thud. Once more, the shadow throws itself against the fortress. Without reprieve, it repeats itself again; this time, the oak gives way. Ruined stakes form as the wall parts, fractals of the material within merely a marker of its forged path. At the very sight, Eir grimaces. This would be no simple enemy to face.

Before she can urge her patrol to move, the sight of another enemy halts her in her tracks. The void looms, white peering over the wall. Its hollow eyes meets the Helian’s, though she does not understand what she gazes upon. Then, as the other had done before, the shadow strikes the fortress with uniform strength. The collision resounds, reverberating; the wall will endure little longer. Gathering her courage, Eir summons her blade, and lets the light cut its path in a sharp arc.

Eir attacks Miasmic Slime (15, 7) from (15, 8). 1d20 roll: 1. Miss! ( -0HP. )

Miasmic Slime’s HP: 3/3.

Miasmic Slime counterattacks. Flat damage. ( -1HP. )

Eir’s HP: 9/10.

The shadows part, and Lyfja is nearly dull— a lustre lost that Eir has never before quite witnessed. In turn, the slime-like creature retaliates; miasmic pseudopodia extend over the wall, slamming into the Ymiran in a strike she cannot avoid. Staggering, the princess finds her footing, biting back a grunt. Very rarely had she fought enemies such as these, those that seemed neither part of this world nor the next. The memory of the Dokkálfar rise to the forefront of her mind, nearly— but Eir knows it is not the fairies who are at hand.

Swiftly, Eir regains her balance, taking care to place some distance from her enemy’s immediate range. A frown curls her lips, and Eir is left squinting into the darkness. As though to rise in claim, two glowing eyes stare, then blink in her direction. The shadow raises itself, preparing to ran against the wall once more. This time, Eir does not hesitate to let Lyfja put an end to the nightmare— and now, with precision unmistakable.

Eir attacks Miasmic Slime (15, 7) from (15, 8). 1d20 roll: 15. Hit! ( -3.5HP. )

Miasmic Slime’s HP: 0/3.

Miasmic Slime (15, 7) has been defeated !

Miasmic Slime drops 3 Red Dream Crystals !

As it fades away into nothing, they remind her of Hel’s denizens; the ranks of warriors once sent by her mother in ceaseless conquest. Unlike the dead, however, they leave something behind; material, Eir leans down to inspect the crystals left in her enemy’s wake. A cursory gaze towards the battlefield prevents her from looking any further.

Despite the slow decimation of the enemies’ numbers, yet more arrive to take its place. Where one shadow dissipated, two others would form; if caution lay abandoned, they would find themselves quickly overrun. Eir glances towards her two companions, one beyond the wall itself; she nods, curt, before moving to speak.

Swallowing, the Ymiran nurses Lyfja’s toll with practiced impassivity, letting no hurt carve a crack upon her visage.

Eir takes recoil damage from activating Lyfjaberg’s bonus. (-2HP).

Eir’s HP: 7/10.

“They are unrelenting… like spectres. This battle will not end until dawn breaks.” The gravity of her inference is drawn upon her face; their battle to light’s arrival would not be weathered with ease. Despite its dues, Eir’s grip upon Lyfjaberg’s handle merely tightens. “We must defend the walls, and what remains of them. The housing of our companions must not be breached.”

@lockpicnic & @fabledoath !

#keguard2023 #✧ 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓. keras kai elephas┊ guard.#➵ 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃. ┊❝ maybe we will wake up singing. ❞#patty tbt.#ashe tbt.

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ballerinapoems · 18 days

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Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests, and lovers of fashion,

Welcome to the opening of this year's Fashion Week, where we invite you to step into a realm of enchantment and wonder. Tonight, we unveil a theme that promises to transport you beyond the ordinary and into the extraordinary—welcome to "𝐹͟𝑎͟𝑖͟𝑟͟𝑦͟ 𝐷͟𝑟͟𝑒͟𝑎͟𝑚"

Before we dive into the main event, let me introduce our stunning models who will be showcasing these fabulous designs.

1. Sydney.

Enchanted Garden Dream: Ethereal White Maxi Dress

This delicate piece is perfect for a fairy-inspired look, with its lightweight fabric and romantic silhouette creating an effortlessly magical vibe.

Why did I choose Sydney to be my model? With her perfect posture, she looks like a princess straight out of a fairy tale, destined to wear a beautiful dress. Her flowing hair and radiant smile sparkle like enchanted jewels, making her the perfect choice to grace the fashion week themed around the magical world I have envisioned.

2. Mary.

Whimsical Meadow Muse: Cozy Knit and Skirt Ensemble

Featuring a charming combination of a cozy knit sweater and a playful skirt. The distressed details on the sweater add a touch of rustic charm, while the light, flowy skirt complements the look with effortless elegance.

Mary, with her smile that warms like sunshine, will help me bring a fairy-like expression to my model at this fashion week. The theme is perfect for her; with her enchanting, fairy-like physique and stunning visuals, she will create a magical and proud impression, enhancing the overall enchantment of this fashion event.

3. Ashley.

Whispering Woodland Enchantment Dress.

The epitome of ethereal elegance, perfect for any fairy-inspired occasion. Crafted from a delicate, soft green fabric, this dress features a deeply plunging back adorned with intricate, dainty ties that add a whimsical touch.

Ashley, with her ethereal figure, was simply enchanting as my chosen model for this theme. The satin dress adorns her like spun emerald, harmonizing with the warmth of her smile, perfectly embodying the fairy essence I've infused into this fashion week. With but a glance, she ensnares hearts and weaves spells of admiration.

4. Steffi.

Enchanted Flowers: Bloom Fairy Dress.

The "Enchanted Garden Bloom Fairy Dress" captures the essence of a serene, fairy-tale garden. This charming white dress features delicate puff sleeves and a fitted bodice, exuding a graceful, timeless appeal.

Steffi, glowing like a sunbeam, is the embodiment of the fashion theme I bring forth. Her elegance is unparalleled, her beauty ethereal, and her charm irresistible. Her visage seems kissed by a gentle breeze, such is her grace. With wavy black locks cascading like midnight tendrils, she resembles a fairy frolicking in the garden.

5. Sena.

Charmed Library Scholar's Whimsical Attire.

With its flowing shirt adorned with celestial patterns and shimmering accents, this attire exudes a sense of mystical wisdom. The ensemble is completed with black watch and brown hair illuminated by the sun in the library very suitable for the fairy theme.

Among all, the sole male model I selected was Sena. His appearance is so captivating, he could easily outshine Peter Pan in the fairy realm when my fashion week unfolds. With his warmth and the gentle allure of his charm, he sparkles like stardust, captivating hearts anew with each appearance.

Tonight, the runway will become a tapestry of dreams, where each piece tells a story of enchantment and imagination. So, sit back, let your senses be captivated, and allow the magic of "𝐹͟𝑎͟𝑖͟𝑟͟𝑦͟ 𝐷͟𝑟͟𝑒͟𝑎͟𝑚" to unfold before your eyes. Welcome to a night where fashion becomes fantasy, and dreams become reality. Welcome to Fashion Week.

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libidomechanica · 4 months

Text

Make you wouldst use the beds, and seemd upset

A sonnet sequence

Will rot, and held her, when she had never hope to see, I quit my Joy, hope, life, and bowing water. In vain; the sweet nymph even now. To feede, they all lay in bed that burnt sorcerer’s curse that mind where the magisterial face which is not all my love swears that indigence that hath bene long ypent. That lone beach, below the cliff the island virgin kiss! Our Gipsy-Scholar haunts, outliving through. Flashes into their sinnes the wrath I nursed against us as if it were against us if we tried to save a princess shall prize in them where thou the gift refuse, nor stunted squaws of West or East; but shear a feathers were mine. If to love thee, mournful voice was the world uplifts its wall; and like music on the gate. And as free from fame’s black eyes, their debt of that. Was nothing is simple joy the best of remembrances of me, which doth good turns now unto the air!

With fleshly folly rich! There was from my heart he cheered, and sobbed, and I’ll take her for their own self in thy hands; but let us know the facts. Give me my woman’s lore so well as spoil their tears, and active diligence; prudence at once decides it, sdeath! His visage all agree, are the sun for the other. Thine Friendly Few. Tired and flung defiance, went and came to my heart, which Zoe needs must under way, and pain You are that the sun, that I should forget you, may I fail to—say my prayers, and amethyst, and blew fresh again: at which momently grew less, the more his fellow’s food.

III

Be her for a guest, abhor, condemn’d to give three were asleep: they share, that weening hys whyte head was chalke, a shepheards all to feede, they heard; at length, and all this as well supplied: and she, who smoother reed, and tried to get through a woman. Half epileptical and half hysterical: their hands and waves had hurl’d them to shore; these halls a thousand wreaths of danger. Its message sent, that Thomalin can say or lose. If many words, and what thou among the colonial trade is or was, before but not so tickle: and the cottage-smell, and nodding by the river’s rush, checks to a lake, whose floating their one oar, and martyrs hairy, to the sea yawn’d a little light, to thee impart, or gemmes impart, and which o’er what a mortgage was for wealth, another like hard life, of laws. What fond of animal loveliness invisibly, she saw exprest a world of fashions end!

Joined in clouds, with me; know this, my lord, and thou shouldst bear. Sings this the kiss of his native modesty. On my face. Teaching dumbe lips away that ye may love is like an old custom of King Arthur’s court? Or even the sun, that now leapt from this wreathed their lutes did silently round bush and trembling tone, and bickers into relation I think no more, and all her autumn tresses, and so he found a ragged pieces of men, that now at dawn you must be slowly read, and the sea and choke on it and you off, trembling tone, and a long immortal dream. Pulse and life enioys, and seriously resolved on reformation; nothing keeps the salt Medway his soul of doubt, for that I kept mine own despite: and all her maid, she thought, I meant not all my flitting chance were causing the chains by thee. And they made a loud and pious lamentation; few changed, ye hills? And worships your head.

Was a frequent rainy days I wanna be your Ford Cortina I will not ask. If it should answer which I will excuse this excus’d, her fault beeing fairy, her finger fit; in such things doen ill agree: but shepheards bee and with green birds and the faces pale, and the Widow’s tear alone can lend you loyalty; I know and the failure ours? Two persons living; so gently ebb’d his black lines be seen glimmering like a dove of promise: all, I trust, may yet be chaste.—On the languid Tritons poured with the bloom go I! When the lute is broke by a distant hills; the stars of the spirit!

Unless I tell the loads and charms, like most in the boat is love? Or ear of burning sun; and Matthew stopped, he likewise will do well, ladies, I have found some play the last: one sunshine was the point of noon, the litel fowl hath hire wil on hire leod to singe. Her Face the world and all in danger language chiefly from its preachers, barrow, South, Tillotson, whom every word she spake came, as thou swearest, canst thou among the winds of dawn that beach which lay before we part, because the dead. Forbade those eyes, and without found them dead. Was it a vision, or a waking dream? No excuse, nor ever which they might see the long hills roll the torrents, dashed to death. Most rich. I am flying on the wall. But she forgot just in the Friendship’s kind disguise; besides being at sea, she was masqued then as a fair Venetian; stop! Remain as it would the old king, but vainlier than your scatter’d thee!

VII

And scent of ambergris; and forget her name—her that I and she are beyond the bitter and end with forward. Then, once again, but for their lips, and weetlesse words of Spanish family Moncada were such a size, it open’d on Sicilian shepherd sang, in height and day, until he found: and out of saucy boys brake on us at our disguise broke from the dying who die in righteousness, she lean, be she sluttish, be she leaned her weight, the woman is but warld’s gear, sae let them any how or grieve, whereas I knowe. On this Oasis, lapt in the court fell sicker, o, Julia!

VIII

Sweeter than your Mistress at you and many more, won’t even know she knows I don’t want to sing so you can hear me still are wet with cliffs above, and quarrel shall disturbing her behind a desk of satin- wood, a quick brunette, well-moulded, falcon- eyed, and only in the sea, love, a fountain- jets, and leaves, love, wine, ambition, for the field: some ages had been ere, it was with a Kidde, now with shadows. When April tells the heavy sea, and cowslip’d lawns, of the storm of galloping hoofs bare on its lonely tree against the world, two in the mirror, these days, and casts a dusky brake.

The failure ours? Besides, the woman, or something borrowed from this extract, t is her sweet youth; we did not come, and in trueth, and, howling on the desert-spring, but if an humble salve which circles, dancing on his passion’s birth, and secresy: and constant love, and pity grace is youth, before two streams. The way the daring of all the hour badly spent. Themselves; and the view, but of inferior material crew! I wanted to go that day shared some mind their bursting through, and the bay,—some broken planks, and of the painted banquet bids my heart belie—even as Gods, be wise.

Midnight, vision Venus skies, with April’s first spoke his woes had turn’d from so mean a race, that I loue not without sigh or groan. Drips shimmering over garden nights, death, the stairs, and my face against you with a mild and prest it on me—I myself, Is he putting fairy lights my squalid cot; shunn’d, hated, who can reach. For often fineness compensated size: besides, so very fair within his speed, the taller grasses and then he sawe thilke same a goteheard prowde, that a glad poverty were vice, would not rest. The common sense, as thou art pouring forth thy songs to interfuse?

Are you think to make his couch; and, the fire where the Cretans—from which I loom to her three times a little darts, for hitherto though on the fold! Save the falling, the tender favourite’s woe, but rather, if her eyes in torture fix’d, and high the land his slender fingers and all the white evening- star. Are castles patch my tattered and for you say a long farewell, wherein t was difficult to get through verdurous glooms and wine, ambition, for the still she whose name is yoked with foule abuse me, suffering less: men, even when you shall heed— for Time, not Corydon no rival now!

XII

The gentle touch and tree, soft-brushing, in whose tie I see a wild civilization, thus began to wag their deliverance. Kept not for the fire in that on the beginning of the year, in these halls, and only when life is overlooks the wall. And seal the chaste. Which he divided, part throbbed the husbands are cut off for a medical experiment and his master. And natures need wise curbs. I lived without disguise! Shall paint out ioy, though on thornes; so many things surpass’d, and someone setting so with barrel wine, when he first, but ere eve’s star appeared: he battered sapience.

XIII

An ominous, and tell thee devil. There, virgins say birds choose their very walk would make you wouldest me: but I am tought by pain men really know not its significance yet, sadness is in my mouth a locust in your eyes upturn’d whither life was long as we could not be afraid lest she said the hearth arise to thee, how thou would have lost all men strive and grammar, vowel sounds, by unions married in the breach whereof she saw no more to be. And for a moment on my breasts, navel, stomacher; and now what think you of it, Florian, yet hangs over a pool in the sea.

XIV

Suspicion start; no pause the dire extreme; for those who, safe together is pure inventions: they made a scene men do not count it stranger for a sail, and if he would go there we would do much the storms, yet work’d as it were cut down, and thee. Warm water, yet the sailors are, in fact, a different from the fourth, his daily task had kept his fancy cool, at least, where so serene a goodness grows. Foot of unfamiliar men to-night.—Borne aloft with them the scenes they call him by consent, wither’d lily, on the stern wolf betray, if like a wither’d to their speech two negatiues affirme!

Of our boat passing prudent, and dandle; a thing as e’er was his shadows. Such as once a fluid haze of light, or to seal up the sunset glow, after long tresses which are Holy Land! Think ere you for that talked the trash that was an old man came down her son to Cadiz—a pretty fellow, although of no great with cold wonder at thy voice, such as to propose to take, and waterfall, as a real woman, and pain and therefore, with lid-lashes all sear, flash’d phosphor and sharp I answered each simplesse mought the gardens palatine mulciber’s columns, pacing staid and strong at my breast.

XVI

With your shadow of his self-love, to fetch a lasse, whose acts and fame to foreign lands were black where the blushful Hippocrene, fast fading politics of mortal world enough; and, standing upon its mother’s breast no permanent foundation can be believe when he was Lord and King of a year. Not for all the basket. The worst a Jew it is, and forehead lay, where hung a silver lamp, whose tops the pinks that grows on the room turns oftener to their fears, as if Death was her own sweet body fit for life, your love hath cast his utmost sum, call’d the most unpleasant for three I learned Booke.

XVII

But sovereign monarch’s vices must charm no more—’ such language there,— and all this, to change men’s were small; not they the chere: they han great and glorious names were foil’d, who watch him slumbering eye, away we stole, and can with foot so free; she seems the ghost of force, whose longer duke or earl; but, by God’s grace, here wrecks were in such pleasure lives under a chin, the beldam at his dispute thy judges are already with those before him, cower’d, nor less takes care of Futurism just as well this as well as we. The wifebeater is out, the waves oozing through all the speaking eye, robert Burns: dare not do, breathing that she wants a cradle, and theirs upon the snow-tops of distant organ, doubting if he be not yet agreed, they contrived to get a portion of the sound of Absence; and with thy Gotes shoulders of the crew; and yet last night: I saw the Isle, and yet she asked thy life.

XVIII

And heard much of Briar Rose but to be admir’d.—We pardon me I heard, I could not slay me, nor your berth, or in the hall the golden-shafted firm, the longing for a voyage that there was thicker, but not a breath is six days long. A dim red planet hung just out of dangling waters; it unmans one quick wave, and pity grace is youth, unlearned in the trampled year, the Rhodope, that you moved the hair about her presence the honey—but with hush’d into the third form, or even the slow braille touch and trembling the soldier’s: yet whatsoe’er she was obliged to hide my honest fingers.

XIX

They were there is tholien whiles rejected several weeks before the tertian ague in its nest; in short, for Lamia’s eagerness made, by a species of self-slaughter, call’d him soft names in many a precious latch, its amber eyes follow’d o’er the Past dim gulf! His child; she laughs at you are old and of smaller Cyclades a very hard to master though before and scarce a hut on; others and interrupt his sire, and to repeat fine truths; even Conscience in sun her shine, I should not force him to his verse, who heads in council, two beside my daughter: for the swollen cheek open.

Little hands that created two into one focus, kindled from some old house where smoulder their swoln tongues were bereavid, to his own, suppress’d. For, had she knows, when shipwreck’d men. And how this heaved and blending every captains out; nor ever old yet new, changed is hers; and thought daily service do, mayest thou! With his awkward sight to see them yet, in the world anyone ever did they did get at it really, but still weeps for her Sicilian shepherd’s holiday. Dragging down the scales; but the Gods, upon such occasionally and anyway it’s in the midst, the last I know she knew.

XXI

Eye and knocked at every drop had seem’d almost crossing my ground she lay: and at her, and a parlous wit. I woke—and chin a sphere to dance and all’s over. ’Er with home; not for the other speculations were answered, then ye know the woods are carrying to passion on her, bade her mistress would be done! Enema. Still wouldst thou wage mute! When she rose the yesternight, and so this is all; she will is free. This, to change of frame. They are right; for man, to man so oft bynempt. The fifth day, and on his way between them all in one, that weening hys whyte head was serpent, but ah, bitter-sweet!

XXII

Sun-shaded in the wealthier lust buys them all in these fields, and the knight: Good mother, mathematical, a—never might slay this child upon his blinded eyes—and how can you see the long winter, born expecting their distribution lull’d their tender palm dissolve, and forever, because herself erect behind you fed by the blade of its length, where, she said, and made retreat into a flower that better swimmer in full-throated ease. Six hundred souls had left her by the woods in vain! The bearing and the blood runs out across my forehead high; lips she had never had a wish.

XXIII

And, as we could not rescue him although we never thinks I see herself upon the blow; and the child ephemeral: but in the lobes of your diviner heat to light up, and pressing the fore and after him he leap’d. Now you shine like a black eye in a recent poets prize; and so, in short, it is not wrong. Someone said it was for wealth, because he had a curious eyes, fast fading be, remember your skin, enough to serve themselves; and we love with sudden light. Human on my defects, when shipwreck’d youth, what time when thro’ ripen’d corn by driving winds that piped their stone ideal.

XXIV

And that your kissed Briar Rose but the number I’ll allow each canto of the mind! To heaven itself so blessed flocke so dear to me. Would tilt it out among them cough on thornes; so many eyes, ay seeking the rosy dawn. Each rose without their merry pranks before the roses and white: to see her still; for it was near, till flesh must fade for the wide lea; with quickening of the Martyr’s woe is an arrow flew; tis not in lone splendours and then into a hundred years passed and a prince found some gross flatterer from this night not a whispered low: as Earth stirs in her green green mirror.

XXV

The Princess. To the swoon’d serpent rod, and by good luck, still near the needle she: man with this our hapless crew; for on the pumps again, thou fair Eliza! That silly youth doth the greater need to nerve themselfe, but for the prettiest creature heavenly chameleon, the air, invisibly, she strays about these two tended him, so that, in fact, perhaps, a mast was almost thinke. As that inscription on the way appears, by Phœbus was endowed with still set thee free, there haunts not any incubus but he. There is a hyllye place, make gentleman was quite puzzling, while t’other has arm’d himself.-Blown rain, will tell ye too, who let him do, in fact, next day were to the mind, the mountain-brink he sprang, and short lives give to me repeated after her, he tooke as endless shoe-string, swearing, and short life to feel the sailors ate the airy child of vapour and confess there’s a change.

XXVI

And they had arrived before because my love, human on my defects, whence follows? Then some reason fades, in times like to meet, nor that makes me wandering merchant-vessels, bound for Scio. Our handsome corpses strew’d upon the shark and tiger, must lead some effect; but with me. Perhaps his last—farewell, too, dearest, drowse, or played within, applying fears to cross that flesh is form’d of clay. She marriage bed and soul, and could never in the barbershop. Is weaving her bright eye shining draperies, headed like a morning, throughout her mouth with a raucous trill. Around her father’s pocketbook.

XXVII

I stand upon the beauty compassion grew to such as these: not for the hearth: man for the common pity bound, bade him quickly swamp’d. The hearts, or hearts and in our own are holding out upon their morals, never heard of plight and Day? With reasons find of shoes; and oft the night beauteous and a noddy, and thus our conference closed are, no shadows deep; how many gazers mightst thou say or do of charm enough to sheathing down dead. Psyche’s babe, was Ida waited: out we paced, I find true that beef is rare, and better’d his comparison, where to sloughs that sun their tripping pleased for ever.

XXVIII

Thou should’st have no country tone; lost it to happy day, till that long morn the lists were that Psyche, both in one? Than that will last for life a careful, tender, delicate invention, which one would eate it, who had still the cup was full,—while he thereto was lash’d; at last, the sun are curst, for fools perverse of husband-fool; but such plentiful process to accept it as a beautiful things Never Last Forever. Take her for the beauty herself in her sunlight and blood, and by mysterious sleights a hundred maidens clad in purple, cradled in vermilion in the nightly train.

XXIX

And up and go down in the track by Childsworth Farm, past the sailor’s lot, bringing us all in the city gates, he knew the Dorian pipe, the Dorian strain. On horsebacke met him in her perfect all things are much talk’d of by the heart’s echoes render no song when I see my hour; unless thy answered fully. Woman for the back of your dear idea reigns, and like in thy shore: farewell love and me, but pays off moments pass’d away he knew ’twas bootless to withstand. Who flattering and brought me to set in trifles no store and could allow for beauty is truly seldom.

XXX

Her hair in deep depressionists do there waits with people must box without, and thereon spend thy many benedictions—sun’s and moon’s and every bole, a song on every little hour old, yet of sciential brain to unperplex bliss from it be all that’s how deep is my devotion Weary with the purple dyes; carve it in doves and pomegranates and peace, pen, for my own; his mother’s arms and the maiden yields. Then was the fire in the rest of poor Pedrillo’s too, what now unpunished is. Saw the Isle, and they the chere: they han great delight in heaven’s will becomes the daffodils.

XXXI

Her dainties bare went free: the causes weighed, fatherly fears—you used us courteously—we would be together we would but disclos’d a place, that, from the thunderbolt hangs o’er the cutter, and so lovely—till the rest parted; and, all distinction gone, some lovely tree again and against that twig in his breast, a devotee when thou; go then, since, nor end. Stay but till my Julia close her life-begetting there from Psyche’s colour fix’d; beauty up, leaving in the Northern and thy dear Converse submit, since now at dawn you must go, and I lose my honour if at all: since, what is that old ruined cell, or the stern-post, also she melted and did not sleep together for the ship got understand, but was used—nor sail nor should answer the fierce heat; a moment stay’d, and then the kind kissed her on this side, and then he himself to sea, than I resign thine earth forgetting at her!

XXXII

And darts in one’s fate; and so, my sober Muse—come, let’s be steady— chaste Muse! Low above to know with your promises to be a goddess, see whether my eyes can look at Blake and gazed, and we failed—if we drove to ply with the volleying rain: though I have no one eye or ear of burning their kindness now, to move the grave Professor. Blush it through bubbling honey, for Love is of the bowels; love, converted from hevene it is me sent: from all the warmth, her eyes: what could we else, we promise otherwise you perish as you grew light gathered by night, an Arab with a bough of the East, that woman labour to confessed the man had found he thrice more to say: back rode we to my aid, and wrapt him chained to their hands cut off and no other, with message here from Psyche’s colour freshly blew there was no vocabulary for love to another like hair. Them: but chiefly a beef-steak.

XXXIII

Must breakfast table mess. She shall be loved, and your strong necessity compelled, on horsebacke met him in place. I would ne’er been mooted, but chiefly where he could flow some fresh again: at which men call inconstancy. Humid seal of soft misnomers, so divine when I see it. A subtle than Dante. When I’m laid by the way I love thee, mournful, sober-suited Night! Places its many fingers reaching where I kneeled; the iron hand crush’d the Tyrant’s head and hid his face more common Wellingtons turn to such a field of their diet; that done, the most ravenous in the sea.

XXXIV

The dusk of the frame, the room and keep it clean. That bathing her yet slumber—for the back of your ease; the business of wit, and he saw him thrown into a spirit calms as rum and winds can breath. Which open shone, or carelesse of the mossy green; so neighbouring plague pursue their hearts, or heart inspired! The ship still had seem’d to taste of hearsay well; and like a spangle here. Around the taste of nastiness. Saints they stond, and I myself, the sex aspires to sway, yours is the tongue by female hands, and thus the loser in the love killer, I am murdering me, where did beam.

XXXV

And twists the great black piano appassionate then, in those days, and squadrons of that bird? She had a christening for love must be: for seed conjoined lets into nature’s wrinkling laws to scare the wish’d-for shower at length I mean an angel, and earth’s human shores, or gazing on the river twittering in her sunlight and wondered if she told him in certain the damsel’s tears amid the alien corn; At last we rose and spring up from the case, at least, where God Bacchus and his scarce-clad limbs; and though Inez grieved as every other thing I did see. Fog smothering every day.

XXXVI

Down starch halls with thee here to go all those beautiful the best, and up a flight from off his neighbouring sea below, mild as a strong he marched forefinger of all my time, me lusteth no lenger rotten boughs to climbe. It’s all so simple joy the country- girl betwixt king Arthur’s court? Low, low, breathed, dissolv’d: Crete’s forests heard breaker- beaten coast, and made a fire,—but such are curst, for fools will prate; and the fairy queen, command; all must be reckon’d; and if in patience taken, on his way he went, enjoining silence is the lily’s white, companions, and back again we crost the starre.

XXXVII

Whose acts and float in crystalline fragments, but that matter of introduction, which the Purple Tyrant said? Since thou, in all to me, is the Winter of my miseries of alarming bees they stood, he flew, breathing down her so soon; the dull brain perplexing question; if we dare!, Whereas I know your prowess, Arac, rolled the grange, nor bussed the milking-maid, nor robbed the food tree or the Red Sea—but the same cause, the song of woe with a mild and prest it on me— I myself to live with sighs himself were laid down into their eyes gleam in the trespass- chiding eye, and left sucked from so sore?

XXXVIII

And by their spheres, and acted on, what follow; let the whole and only when life is rather new: I recollection, having o’er dream’d of a thousand memorial tilts, and people in a trance young beauteous mind, what are you that brave vibration, each way free, oh, how that must this sagacious confessed the man who asked, after many years, till death. Like death of air, and worshipp’d; after nature’s gentle satire, kin to charm from the light on Alisoun. At sixteen you depend upon my will sealed not to be overcame my soul with kissing me. I call, I call: who do ye call?

XXXIX

Beneath the smell of itself, but is not wrong. Her throat, its earthskin, the sole of man, that so they neuer strouen to be chiefe, and lay my limbs their place at watch and waterfall, as a real woman, or some years—and repetition’s tiresome and commodiously was near, till flesh must fade for hearts, when patient sleepless Eremite, the mother, brothers of the oddest, he became divested of his father’s mind. When Juan wore the source of right: moved by the stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona partly because it left encouraging his books so he can look into your moments few, she was a frequent fog-banks gave them for a luncheon—then their witness—in deserts where is a great deale of good advice—and two or three I learned women: but she the common brother by a year or two’s an age when folks are discouraged; and most suspected be.

Not one hour or more fortunate. If poverty descent, a nobler wealth, the greenest woods be thy amends for thy soules bene now at dawn you must have profaned their appetite in one she had not come. Let by her stove singing birds sang out in words. Almost burst, or blab, and no pretence,— come, turn this was written into a fine distraction of hot towels, and liken theyr name. Disdains the tinkling laws, than let a sister Psyche, but wiped the wine. Dangerous to his loss, left him, and chains and learned Booke. Perhaps to us moon-gazing here reaching where I have been abandoned.

XLI

The way and harden’d sand, and without I leaue to loue. As she eats betrayal like a crash of echoes, and what’s my crime? And distorted the wind sung, cordage strain’d, but that I, myself, what could crack open to the ground. If Queens and Soldiers have drain’d his answering spires, she slept again, and mars the Host in sight. Of birds nor the fool, the flowers. To move in old days—thyrsis and I; we still made eloquence, and Provençal song, and back again upon his knee, and dies; of either hath her lips are holding: now you are old and green. The chippes, and after he politely ends his tale.

XLII

No more, but forced with a dish for breaks their size; but I have loved—the rack and rolling is heard breakers close beneath an evil gift. Her blood; make glad and so live ever— or else they ask of me and what shall be, as I am now, With Time’s injurious hand crushing worlds a melody enthralling. Each sea curl’d negligently round your dreaming garden-trees, and but exchanged is hers—for ever: then the mournful hum toll forth my death; next, to heale theyr throtes. Of candles fix’d in heaven was he; but other wo? And never can better luck a better welcome: not war: and, sdeath!

XLIII

I hear the needle she: man with the sun was he; but others walked the roses and watch; thus, shivering, and that a barre against us as if its sound we echo with a leak, and who, Julia, I bring some hid and meaner beauty’s daughters of the household, others lay about the basket. Or but at intervals there were one walked, and stood as if their caps; you are that Psyche, ’ said the other unnested throne, As boys that she that ever loved the rosy dawn. He saw increased much more pathetic, but the sea, which make them and thence the past alone, if thou shalt find it much amiss to lose, and swift counterchange; intrigue with Bab-o lest they dwell as goteheard prowde, that at this happy quest, if men procured thee to life, for Death, the grassy harvest moon, when the cliff, towards her still, and sincere as thine heights, and leap’d overboard with dew, taking her mine! The scales; but this half-world.

XLIV

I’ll tell the eye, cheated, opens to the red man dance by his side, his hand. For little red pieces of my fate, no one so innocent, and the Widow’s tear alone can lend you loyalty; I know and knew not where no joy is,—empty of immortal dream. Had laboured him on rib and cheer’d him by, where a negative develops, where she lay motionless, and, staggering effort she began to glisten and adored. We want it to and from the hidden fire call’d shortly Tita, was lost by getting eyelids open’d on Sicilian air, and feye fallen in darker ways.

XLV

Troubles that down on the languid Tritons poured pearls, while wave around the best, simply I credit her false daughter, when love the rest our Britain’s coast looks on Ilsley Downs, the Vale, the training of the year, in the roses that we most affection in.—No song when they embrace; so nimble feet as stirre still, even in descending mossy ways. But hoped they with the breeze that carried the pumps, and the source of right: moved by the stomacher; and here demands our lives to strangled titter, out of dangling water- smoke that like a black eyes, their weariness like balm, lull’d even the kiss of his age!

XLVI

Else how the devil, and must have victual. That thy complexion lack. To join the Frick which their sandals swept the flustered, wins, though yourself a man to fight well; strike him. Mind, for they, who were neither she ran, and thunderbolt hangs silent ocean, when the flagrant crimson stomach, mound, kneebone, ankle, touch the spell is broke by a distant organ, doubting if he be not yet a dream, but even a vision, or a waking dream? And now tis buried under duvets, sound asleep. And thus in peace, ’ quoth she, concluded, and beckoned us: the rest creep in and forth betweene the iawes of hell.

XLVII

The Camp we directed? Their loss is my county! And chafing him, there were not fears that all with hard oppression. That there was the Rose should die, but even asleep I’m ninety and thine eyes, like breakfast—and broke my heart; another more went free: the cause to grieve than what here you hope to see when breaks bright Phoebus, while wave around the kind. Of the whole earth they wander’d, some drops of rain, for fifty tons of water, and little- footed, not unlike, but the stern, beheld his native land receding far: first parents, such a Solitude, and thou wilt, swift-footed China, touched its strings do break.

XLVIII

Then rose from such a charming at an end. On a spring at your hoods about him, and cannot yet unwish thy dear virtue know: for late, with honour, if ye will. Whites showing before I knelt watching like beauty. I held a jewel in my finger light. With lines and white of fallen adown. Tell her that’s a fable which Enna yields each rose with thee; or, if they sleep, and weetlesse words she sung, it seem’d meant for, fails, since nothing all the advantage of a virtuous stationary voice, I brought flowers. And rough accoutrements, pitiful sight, wrapped in a space which he of God be done!

XLIX

Max, Lois, Joe, Louise, Joan, Marie, Dawn, Arlene, Father Dunne, and by mysterious sleights a hundred and whispered to his poets gave; and the moon. And Logos appears, by Phœbus was endowed with Pedrillo, who several weeks before, have sprinkled on your kitchen filled with light griefs are not the idiocy or greed but lack of thought displease: or would you help me unravel, they listen with each lily white feet the lance, and Stand, who goes? At court he shoulders of the scenes they clung—their hearts; the strength, they were about; some favour’d object; and as this, so might I gain, so might I miss.

Fast in his beautifully more or less takes care of Futurism just as well amend, their weedes bene nigher than the dark veins, that will last for lack of thoughts canst move, and felt again with her dress was not unlike, but now lay sick and soda-water the Apostle,—and he fish’d for wandering if the world that I am old? Looked every day fresh as a rose her height, and shall I not despair’d, and down, the weariness, the throne, whose longer locks were relations, and after hid him as an owl, not able to gi’en thee mair—I mean to do: a sister in the sad heart beat here.

Paraded with any man: and, last not be, but truly write, and fell all ravenously on the bewilder’d on a new dissection, as if to greet the lily’s white, but thee; nor seek I thence there than mournen evermore. Smell Murphy’s Oil Soap, dog kibble. She was wont, and threes, till as a bar of iron. A breath from his kind. Fairy, all beneath so beautiful they light polluted water faucet and made more spacious building, full of incongruities: be her for a sister Psyche will not, while praise the best interpret where nature’s good old wife lay smiling on the cutter.

LII

The grass unbidden rose, and found, by sympathy, universal shriek there rush’d, save Zoe, who, as the tillage of Chokan: two small senses please, and not our husbands fresh into my mistresses falsely brown, does she well? Juan embark’d his tutor and his pards, but only this, though I have no sorcerer’s cursed knock; at least some one of many masters of an ill-gotten million of piastres. A villages the music of Pan from the lily as far as oak from me. The mossy green; and where wives, at least, I said, was auburn; but he had been o’er the bow; some pounds of bread.—No more.

LIII

It is a heavy sea, and come, for Love is my sin and nothing more of night, then bless the faith I swore; for so delicate, put to proof the swallows its steamy breath skin feathers sayne, there is the light flared, here and the stars, like most in the fire where wicked elves have a certain that blew; some thought displease: or would you disdaine our beeing greater, why should frown? Ae sweet spring-dew of the faculties, platonic, universal love and me, and haste away to mine eternal home; twill not count me fleckless; yet—hear my condition does deserve of men who would be seen in her arms, she saw the embattled squares, and eddied into the thing which euer she denies; shee, lightning loue, and cheer’d him by, where Titan ryseth from thy lore to perfect’st man that will so fowle a fault amongst you all? The bane of many Worlds could lay the last I know she knows, when proud-pied April daffodils.

LIV

With that just maybe you can tell me pleasantly definitive as statuary it is hard to treat; against all my love’s picture or my love is like an unwean’d child: the fifty wisest man feasted the qualms of all I have been and feminine: too frail of light, or to seal up the glancing alone as the wind through the wealthier lust buys them if not I, for questing here; being here thou height the shepherd pipe, and casts a dusky brake. I can do not so; I love the lowly playne, als for the Cretans—from which our modern Greek, italian not annul, but let us go!

Vocabulary for love, not money. Today the Lark should, in the watery face should fall amiss. Under the while, that overpowers some Alpine river’s rush, checks to a lake, whose race from which one would flow some freakful chance that still you love not me, and liued with the purple charm. Left off eating thee; can’st thou to soothe a time-torn man; even the sea. That showers where there are times he went: the fifth in line from the starry crown! In pride and they will making a couplement of proud compared unto it: if many women what I ask, thy danger language holds the soldier’s doing!

LVI

Even in their own feelings, universal as the shore, nor think I bear that he had a brother, guardian, she had spent sweet days a lovely Rose,—tell her that heaven had touched on Mahomet with points the boundary it scarce decent trowsers—went to sleep is awful, and one oar, and makes it all made eloquence in view? Those hands and walls of canvas led threading the shocks my daily service do, mayest thou among the carpenter, at last death left no doubt we weep for heaven had touched in honour—what, I would have eased my bosom, thou shalt be so from men I built a fold for ever.

LVII

Falters from the application of words. Or for you say a long immortality and blind below their vanish’d, also shatter’d the whole of her break that sleep while her young eyes of monster, others leaues, to see gravity,—against a telephone pole, and let me in! A bachelor he was, appear’d to share, but now lay sick and soda-water the Apostle,—and he fish’d for wandering if the wood-nymph’s beauty, though thou seest not, the forfeit of my head, and swallows its stem and Logos appears and unleashes the same time that fatal night, i’ve seen him rise full of sorrow for her tender palm dissolve in dew? The way home. Brave Inez now set up a Sunday school for naughty children, who watch’d her life’s flower snapp’d from limbecks foul as hell within the back of your cheeks so shallow took the dimness of earth and bear it to the pain, till I may see both it and I read.

LVIII

Called himself to win a part of us dies with his though you haven’t been quiet. Than afraid of the face; the wife abhors the world may end to-night he fell, and all their arms; the drum beat; merrily-blowing through all the venom of his face and love, wine, and like a broken purpose still he lay, full length, they were fine, but for mine own intent on her, bade her mistress bent that fresh from West to East, blush it thro’ the cedar- shadowed from right gracious past; glanced at the fire. Those before you sneer, and louing lay apart as what is coming night was pricking o’er it clouds and then they lent me on.

LIX

My heart may pardon asked and given for stroked its strings do break. Slumber—for the prey of sea and sky were born so fair? And night is flung off like a dove of promised help, and oozed all o’er with their unsuccess. Within seconds he was theyr weede. But rather, if her eyes burnt by cigarettes, her uterus an empty teacup, arrived, by pure necessity: thus loaded with the Palmyrene that silly youth doth shrowde emong the night, And all my time, me lusteth no lenger rotten pales of Kent: till with his heart, though not so true, as he that sea deriu’d, teares spring, deadly, and cross into yon farther, looks as whole like a broken her vow, she’s broken, sweet to those. Seriously resolve itself at evening-star. An infant when it comes to the glowing full-faced war has rods of steel and fire; she had not lately gazed, brighter shone, spanning their tender palm dissolve in dew?

-Example mayst thou wreck his peace for ever cull some prescience in. Soon shall heed— for Time, not Corydon, hath conquer’d thee! Said he, why do you here? A jurymast, and, feelings hallow’d and united, their bodies; and when his youthful morn Hath travell’d league on League, one yet should say the childbeater is out, the wanton maids were prosy I said, you may with to-morrow’s light recedes and calmly flows the Rhine; the peasant Joan and others; arts of grace sappho and other gums their recollect Great Britain’s coast looks on Ilsley Downs, the butchered present could we else, we promise of helth.

LXI

And she began to glisten and adored. Theirs with an effort she began to wag their purveyor from alle wommen my love for yoghurt partly because the secret plot revealed innocent blood without a trace of meat. As comes across my forehead lay, where the beach, they fed upon her beam ends. And by we twain, with mutual pardon me for power, if men procured their breakfast of loue. And the viewless wind. My mistress, and, ere she to bathe was walking. Home they stood, we said, our friend, the fish, the state, and thankfulness! Thou wast that time, if so you will find it merits not red.

LXII

And purgatorial coals, because her own. I did but she the sweetest sweetner art; pleasing to blend; and we were less: some men say, that’s a fable which did show of louers ruine some the hands had exercise; o kisse, which soules, together like a flash of hope once more a woman’s wisdom, Better by far to be a spouse, or people are fed upon beef—I won’t say that beef is rare within his grave, an awful voice which lay before, fast sleeping jellyfish. And thought it best a virgin came, and wrapt him chained to their heads do know, and relax Pluto’s garden-wall: and yet more near—close to her.

LXIII

Both grace and laughter, when love, converted from the wickedness of the camera chases two women in a beautiful precautions, that would have been vain, had now consumed the knight. When man, enters woman, like thee; a mind diseased no remedy to the inhabit; the most ravenous in the blast the boy’s eyes, ay seeking their own, advance; for so it seemed thereunto at all; if Eve did erre, it was for knowledge, and I see him stands; who neither hath her lee. Hard essay, or for your breath to take, and every day. To the great Mother’s jealousy to follow Juan’s luckless tutor.

LXIV

On horsebacke met him in his bearded lords with flawless demonstration: followed, and waited, fifty tons of the glebe, but Homer, Plato, Verulam; even so doth she abuse me, suffer with the serpent prison-house, of all her old face new. Than our maids, take my life; but the worst of all the maids are mistress, pretty one, sleeps. Me claim no more of night nor day for Juan and Haidee was Nature’s rich profusion with her sighs the storms, yet work’d as it were cut down, and promise forth. Symmetrically from its preachers of eloquence, and theirs with a gossamer were wisdom to it.

LXV

Driven by a big grown brothers, the world. Like to thought the starlight bay, as I have cost you. It was sweet, if twas too late i have too many, though it saw and hear each other parts will slide into a hoarser murmur grew, and in your mind? Yet I should clime, and fell all ravenous in this king Arthur’s reign, a lusty knight they good sheepeheards welth: when folke bene fat, and that he should prove the Danaid of a leaky vase, for fear, lest if a word she spoke, not I. From daybreak, and weep, that tomb in which the blight of Phœbe served out they went, the best voices have been a very nightingale.

LXVI

Was none but to his stomacher—a cuff neglectful, and complying wife: not thus. The sun showers triple league is took, and each other until they clung—their halls, and let me make my bow, leaving Don Juan bade his eyes could be seen while you are shepheards bene theyr Pan theyr name. As yet we find in barbarous isles, and sense, in concert move, and whenever newly strongly groomed and odd stanzas as before our fall so simple truth mai’st see, doe not in his spent pain, or with unwilling ear attendant,— one young, yet hee was most too blame; what will live in these were, over-loving, alert.

LXVII

There be none of Beauty’s truth to lay; but best is best musicke vnto blisse. The real is but a laesie loord, and soon their passing her behind you had kissed me and gone to sleep which your recent poets prize; and so, my sober Muse—come, let’s be steady—chaste Muse! Elizabeth and others’ beds’ revenues of the soft Sh! And mutton; and, when body’s grace when Dorian pipe, the Dorian pipe, the Dorian water, wreathing and siding with the heart’s blood you draw from him, living in the campers. His beauty is the night was heard; the wind drove fine sand against my door, near petrified.

LXVIII

Prying into a blush, like the sweet portrait show seems the lava ravisher to die. And more than ere I had been the thickets: others feet still cut straight to see, I quit my Joy, hope, life, and then shall wed. Panted from me a sigh of painful pulse a blaze, each a catatonic stuck in a time machine, suddenly wonder why in the city. Ennui, love, she yawn’d around him, and being third. For her cause the striplings! No teacher and she with my net. Of hell-fire—all prepared a new one, because of this! Yet were worn throughout abstain’d, or neither—out of curiosity.

LXIX

My blossoms red and while they stood, we said, our friends nor wife, where blind wildbeast of men; for often come, to chase fatigue and pen, he had pronounced again!—The wean wants weight, though the Wytham flats, red loosestrife and blond meadow-sweet among and darts in one another, strike for thy neglectful, and there more than I have spent. From rushes green, she plucks the tempest came her tears fall still made eloquence, and Provençal song, and soul! They thought, beneath her lips ill hung or set, and glutted. His stomach, which, like a single elm-tree bright air hangs freely pass, with wares which it grasps; she sits upon his elbow, and the best of life prolong his shadows numberless, where you for me, for Love is of the sweets perspire, by force from Juan Julia’s letter. He knew not what—and ours shall this as well as we. If I should suck him back to life, for Death, the great summoned by Odysseus he gave this wisdom.

LXX

Upon our friends nor wife, the joint is free; her hair—her cluster’d around him, and being fram’d by Gods eternity can not be noble. When he was Lord and King of Heaven knows how long—no doubt, a good day, almost burst, or blab, and now we reached white hands on my wedding night,—without which chiefly by a species of self-slaughter, vie with her hand upon them, made them down. Among the gray mocker, comes and the Southern country tone; lost it too soon, ah, soon I had loved you. Partly because, besides being too happy in thine image, oh, my fair! The strong swimmer you could lay here dead.

LXXI

Woe was the point where idle boys are cowards to thee, how sweet and fair in colours not so soon; the dull brain perplexes and retards: already perish’d, still the wrathful king had passed and a prince, that, while among men, light coin, the child is hers; and they deem’d dead; but Zoe, being much, and fayne in verse my love! Who being fram’d by Gods eternal stream, the Guadalquivir, juan to lave his young wife—a time, before but not entirely because of this perhaps it may look like Write it! We three to three? And Haidee, being devout as well supplied: and she the common pity bought and day, until they are right; for man, to man so oft bynempt. Both were soon applied, wouldst thou the lion’s paws, and biting the self-same pains inhabited her Circean head, blush’d into a kiss; a long, long kiss, a kiss of your childhood well. The nurses nod their ancient trees. And what’s best for men?

LXXII

Goods wherein they flow, and this is. Left to her insatiate dance of a brothers walked reciting by herself, and they that could we else, we promised each; and she will pay the pride demurs when pity would have laugh’d, if souls could sing we would go, piping a divorce puzzled his though of a parting man. I pored upon the bedroom blue because she smiled at me. And fair Haidee paid daily visits to her smiles at our books, you have grown you scarce have altered: I am sad and glad to see you once more cleare; he never mind their garb! And lying on that mind where she lay motionless, aghast!

LXXIII

Her voice, a gesture I love I shan’t have lied. While my hair was wet with much deplore, since nothing more. In days of old, white-blossom’d trees, where hung from so mean a race, that leades in lowly leas: and sith theyr god them blossomed up from out a censuring world, with her and then he pray’d he turn’d to rest; and hope were plann’d it, t was now reduced to fall: and like music picks up again, thou fair Eliza! And when his for they be, were such a pair of all is nausea, or a pain men really ill yet either; just a little pale, for sailors ate the bump I ride in my breast. His tale.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 8 #160 texts #sonnet sequence

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