#I LOVE YOU BALLAD OF LOST HOLLOW !!!

[art-o-gant]

[tunemyart]

So I've just watched the finale and I'm feeling... Weird. I think part of it is because this show started with everything I like in a story (cool badass ladies, a queer romance, found family, redemption, etc etc) and ended up being... Not all that (most characters die, the romance is doomed, and I guess the redemption mostly happened but wasn't entirely satisfactory to me). Also, I'm someone who as Trauma (tm) with death so, I guess my brain's first reaction is "fuck that I just want them all happy and safe" and it takes me a while to accept when stories take these paths, however well written they might be.

Still, I thought it all went a bit fast in the last 2 eps, with parts of the show ringing just a little bit more hollow than I would have expected? I'm left feeling like the characters of Alice, Mrs Hart and Jen were treated a bit superficially (Lillia's story felt more complete). I also wished we had seen more of Agatha's past because spending centuries just conning witches then killing them is... a bit boring? (maybe we learn more about her in WandaVision, I haven't seen it). And obviously I wished we had seen more of Agatha and Rio. It's like the show couldn't decide if it was about Agatha or about Billy (partly because, I'm guessing it's setting up a 3rd show about him?), and with this short format we ended losing a bit on Agatha's part.

Anyway, curious of what you think of all that because your analysis are always super interesting, and like I said my own brain might be a bit biased towards resistance with this one. And obviously would love to read your fanfic(s) should you write any!

So, I've started and restarted a reply to this a few times, but I think what my answer boils down to is: we're meant to have multilayered responses to this finale. We're meant to sit with it. It's meant to change our experience of the show we've had to this point.

I think the best metaphor for this is the fact the revelation that Rio is Death. Bear with me, because I know this got spoiled for us way early on and we all knew it and were all just waiting for the revelation to drop - but imagine for a second that we didn't know that Rio, Agatha's ex-girlfriend and spooky fun vaguely-a-psychopath as played by the delightful Aubrey Plaza, is death. Your perception of Rio would have been turned on its head. Your perception of Agatha would have been turned on its head. Your perception of the Witches' Road and what we're even doing here with Death walking alongside us as a tourist would have been turned on its head.

Now, we all had an incredibly fun time even with the knowledge that Rio is death before we should have had it. But I think some of the power for what it meant for the story - and our perception of what was really happening - was muted.

Jen, at the beginning of 1.08, says, "She told us who she was from the very beginning."

Sit with that - because the same is true of this story.

---

It turns out that the Road is a metaphor for death. This isn't fully illustrated for us until Nicky, the author of the Ballad, walks down the road with Death's hand in his, and we go, oh. Oh.

Agatha tells us in the beginning that the Road doesn't exist, a rare instance of her giving anyone unbridled truth. And sure - the Road that our coven walked down doesn't exist. The Road that all the witches Agatha lured to the deaths believed in doesn't exist. It's a fiction. But it's significant that Agatha lured them all to the Road and killed them. They wanted to walk the Road. They died. Not "they died instead" - it's a two-fold statement. They wanted to walk the Road and they died. In a gruesome way, Agatha's been taking witches on the Witches' Road since the 1750s.

I don't think the significance of that is lost on Agatha, either, especially where we pick up at the beginning of 1.08. Lilia's dead, and everybody's reeling.

Perhaps Agatha more than anybody.

---

I also want to quickly take a look at Rio's accusation of Agatha regarding Billy.

"The bodies are really piling up." "Did you doubt me?" "Yeah, I did. I thought there'd be a trick in there somewhere. And there was! You were distracting me from him."

Because this is a revelation about Agatha's actions toward not just Rio, but any audience watching her - i.e., us the viewers. She's been distracting us! Not from who Billy is, we know that of course, but with regard to what the Road itself is. Agatha's known the Road isn't real the entire time. She's been protecting Billy from that knowledge. She's been protecting Billy from Rio. She's been protecting the coven itself from disintegrating. And, the biggest con woman move of them all, she's been distracting us - with less and less success as the show goes on - from the fact that she is not even the slightest bit in control.

---

So I definitely want to circle back to what you said about how the show started out with everything you like in a story, because oof, yeah, I felt that. I felt that hard in the finale. Coming off the impact of the incredible storytelling in 1.07, and the queer jokes and campy Wicked cosplay balancing out the sad, I think many of us spent the next week expecting some kind of emotional resolution that probably involved the remaining coven banding together in some more of that found family we've felt them becoming along the way.

Here's where things starts going wrong, right off the bat: they don't. Instead, they splinter. Not only are you aware of just how few of them are left (Jen, Billy, Agatha), but Jen and Agatha can't handle Lilia's death. Jen's distraught. The close up on Agatha running away out of the trial and back onto the Road, alone, shows her looking hunted and wild in her guilt. Everything that follows has its seeds in that moment of rending that began with Lilia's death.

From the beginning, the point has been that Agatha Harkness is a covenless witch. It's something we've seen her revel in - maybe simply because she has no choice but to own it. But the fact is that here, for the first time in centuries, she had a coven. She didn't intend to have one - she intended to kill them all in her basement and not think twice about them again. But events transpired the way they did. They became her coven. And one by one, they all died on the Road.

Rio, of course, has the words to cut right to the quick: "Your coven is shrinking," she teases Agatha cruelly. Agatha looks wild - because she's right. The worst thing is that she killed Alice - and she didn't mean to. She didn't want to. But she did, and in exactly the same way she'd intended to kill her at the beginning, the same way she's been killing witches for hundreds of years. "Your coven is shrinking," and it's Agatha's fault. It's Agatha's coven. It's Agatha's coven.

Hold on to that, too.

---

One of the things that I've been mulling over most is Agatha's character. She's so much fun in the beginning. We're all fucking charmed by her. We also don't have the full context of just how much of a serial killer she is.

So for me, at least, watching 1.08 and not only not getting found family, but getting an Agatha so far away from a "redemption" story that she only just barely is willing to not sacrifice Billy for herself, was kind of a rude awakening. Agatha's a lot more of a villain that I was prepared for. Surprise!

Agatha's so far away from "redemption", in fact, that she's only just barely starting to feel empathy for other witches. She's just starting to be affected by people who aren't #1. And that's a trauma response. And it's so, so, so deeply rooted in her that she's only just starting to be able to conceive of the idea of people who care for her. Of the possibility of being able to live in community. She's not ready for a redemption arc. There was no way that the kind of redemption arc she'd need could fit into nine episodes, because so much of it would for her be predicated on a mental shift that Agatha just hasn't arrived at yet. She's still so angry. She's still so traumatized. She's done almost none of the work. And even at the end, even with the final gesture of sacrificing herself for Billy, that's not a final act of redemption, oh Agatha's now a good person/forgiven/insert word frame of choice.

What this show did in terms of redemption for Agatha was set her up to be in a place where she might want it - where she might want to do and be better for Billy, and someday, for Nicky.

And it's significant that that point comes for Agatha in dying… and after death.

---

This show is about death. The Road is about death. Death is a character on the show.

Like, okay, you're saying. Fine. But what about my gay fun times? What about my queer romance, my found family?

And please know that I'm there with you.

I'm not hugely in touch with what the larger fandom is saying and how they're reacting because I have my little echo chamber here on tumblr and a few friends who have actual social media, but even here I get the sense that we're all kind of :/ for fairly similar reasons. What happened to the show I fell in love with?

And for me, the last few days, I think it's been important to realize that the fact that the show I fell in love with didn't suddenly become a different show. It didn't pull a bait and switch. No twists were in bad faith. Everything has been right here in the text of the show from the very beginning.

And I think it's important to see the story that Jac Schaeffer et al. were actually telling vs. our expectations of what they were telling, or worse, what we wanted them to tell. For just one example, I was convinced we were going to see Alice again - maybe Lorna Wu, too. I wasn't expecting it to be for the sole purpose of recognizing that not only is she dead, but to give Alice herself the space to say that it wasn't fair, that she wasn't ready, that she'd just broken her family's curse, that now she can really do something with her life! Because, ugh, yeah! It's not fair, for all those reasons! But that's also death. Likewise, Sharon's just dead, and worse, her death was pretty much meaningless. Lilia rediscovered herself again, and she chose her death to save everyone else - extremely meaningful. But at the end - she's just dead. We don't see her again. She's gone. She, like the others, walked the Road and away with Death.

I loved these covenless witches. I loved them finding themselves together. I loved them bonding around the campfire and discovering community. I miss them all, so so much. But they told us from the beginning how haunted by death all of them were: Alice and her mom, Lilia and her coven in Sicily, Billy and William Kaplan, Agatha and her son and her ex-lover. And of course, Death herself. Forget haunting these individuals - she came to actually join the temporary coven. Like, fuck. They told us what this show was about.

---

This show is about death, but it's more complicated than that: we'll take our cue from Rio again, who, in being Death, is also the original Green Witch. In short, this show is about Green Craft, "growth and decay in constant flow."

So yes - almost every single witch in the coven dies. Yes, it's permanent. No, the queer romance isn't resolved happily. No, Agatha doesn't have a redemption, satisfying or otherwise. And no, none of it follows what we've come to expect from found family story trajectories.

But the focus shouldn't be solely on the decay. There's a whole cycle of growth coming up after it, even now, and it's being made possible by the death and decay that we just witnessed. And most importantly, it's confirmed that this isn't the end of the story - just the end of "Agatha All Along."

---

I'll finish by actually answering your question - I've been sitting with the finale for a few days, because I also felt weird about it. And I think that's the right word: "Weird." Very spooky season-esque, first of all, but also not tipping all the way right into "bad".

The first thing to acknowledge is that no story is perfect - they were limited by nine episodes by what they had the space to show, and finales are really hard to get just right. The second is that you're allowed to not like any or all of it, especially when something happens that asks you to change your entire understanding of the story thus far, i.e. the Road isn't real, or when you have a particular trauma around death and it turns out that that's what the whole show is about in ways we hadn't fully realized. The third is that it's worth sitting with stories sometimes and seeing how they marinate and develop in your brain and your soul over time. All of these things can and should coexist.

This isn't my first go-round with a series finale that initially made me ???, so I was fortunate in that I felt like I had a cheat sheet. I've still got some marinating to do to see how this continues to change for me. But it's helped me to realize that my ??? reaction is what the story wanted me to have - that the characters are reeling right along with me. Not just Alice in shock about her death, but also Billy at the implications of his creation of the Road regarding his responsiblity for what happened on it. We're meant to feel this way… and then we're meant to reconsider the journey we've been on, the Road we've walked with all of them and the death we've died alongside them, and see it anew for what it really is.

[c0smoshit]

Hello fellow Cloud Strife freak 🫡

(Yes it’s the same star_sworn from ao3 lol)

If you’re feeling in the mood for it in your last week before school, I was hoping to request a nsfw fem reader/Cloud fic where he is possessive/jealous, and he spanks reader: a LOT. Both before sex (with extensive foreplay, lots of dirty talk, maybe oral for him?) and during sex. Just spanking with hands please, and not super hard spanks either, I'm very vanilla lol. It's not about hurting her, it's more a possessive thing for Cloud (and an ass thing lol!). But reader is SUPER into it. I'm not looking for any hardcore dom/sub or anything, just stuff a committed couple would do (some soft dom vibes, like in Mind Cloud/ed).

Maybe it’s the first time he does it and they both realize how much they both like it, or maybe they’ve come home from a party where the guys were checking out his girl and he is feeling possessive/frustrated. I leave it to you if you want to take this request!

I look forward to the filth. Let's give this ass man something to do with his hands… 😉

Also best of luck with school starting!!

I LOVE THIS omg

Thanks for this delicious request love 😻♡♡

Jealousy ミ★

⋆ ࣪. ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 ≫ Cloud Strife/fem!reader

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ≫ smut!, p in v, spanking, few hints of dacryphilia, bjs, sexy hour Cloud ;), not proofread!

⋆ ࣪. 𝔸/ℕ ≫ I'm baack! I hope u guys missed me hehe

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥 ≫ 2.321

He was closer to you this night, walking right beside you as he guided you to your appartment, his hand brushing over yours as the dark path consumed your vision.

He was quiet too, way more than usual. His eyes didn't seem as if they were trying to search your own ones like they would always do.

Maybe he was stressed out?

This week has been a long one and you could see it on his eyes, he was tired. As time grew older, you had managed to read his enigmatic emotions quite well, so you thought that maybe he just needed to rest for tonight.

But your theory was quickly proven wrong as you entered your home, ready to wave him goodbye for the night.

. . .

Before you could even turn around, his chest had enveloped your back, pushing you further into your appartment until your hands met the wall.

His husky breathing hit your ear, a shockwave of goosebumps trickled your skin.

Why was he that needy all of the sudden??

Your mind circled around lots of different questions but the harsh sound of the door closing made you jump.

You didn't dare to open your mouth, not yet. You could feel his hands on your waist, but they didn't caress you like he always would, like when he touched you for the first time.

You internally cracked a small smile at the memory, he was just as nervous and fidgety as you were.

The moonlight encased both of your bodies as he took off your clothes for the first time, making an absolute mess of himself when he finally got to the act.

But those gentle and somewhat shy touches were far lost inside his guts somewhere, instead, they were replaced with fierce and strong movements.

You turned around slowly, you could feel yourself getting aroused by this sudden role he was playing. And when you stared at those almost hollow eyes, you saw passion, lust and hunger all mixed up together in a ballad of desesperation.

His lips devoured yours not even a second after.

Your eyes were tight shut, savouring the sweet moment he was offering you. Your lips tried to move slowly, trying to enjoy this new facade, but he wouldn't let you.

His tongue was already inside your mouth when you felt his fingertips lower themselves down your body.

You knew he was an ass guy, it was absolutely cristal clear.

He would always grab your ass, brushing it off saying that it was an "accident". Pushing his hips into yours from behind whenever you couldn't reach for something, always walking right behind you whenever you two where with the group.

However, you didn't expect he liked... spanking.

It started off slow, giving you little taps as he grabbed and squeezed your butt. He pushed further into you, almost as if he wanted to break the wall behind you.

The kisses soon turned sloppy, soaking up both of your lips before he trailed them further down, and you had to bite your lip in order to not let any sounds yet.

His hair trickled your flushed cheek, hands quickly grabbing it as his kisses turned into bites, sucking your soft skin.

The crown of your hair hit the cold wall behind you, mouth agape as you let him sneak a hand behind your back, pulling you impossibly closer to his chest as the other one caressed your hip.

Ready to finally use your voice tonight, you eventually opted not to. He had just became so... primal for you, you didn't dare to even make a question.

However, you wished this blissful moment lasted longer.

"Oop!"

A cut out yelp emerged from your mouth as his hands took ahold of your legs, lifting you up easily into the air.

He wrapped your legs around his hips, your crotch resting just above his belly button and, simultaneously, your arms embraced his neck for support.

You moved up and down thanks to his heavy steps and, trying to get payback from earlier, you started pecking his neck. Starting off gently, kissing and giving butterfly kisses into his jugular.

You noticed he became clumsier, almost tripping over as you sucked a hickie. Your kisses got wetter, hotter and your hand started to caress the back of his hair.

You giggled at his clumsy steps but as soon as you were placed on top of your chilly kitchen counter and saw his serious face once again, you quieted down.

His hands gripped your thighs as if they were his sword, his head coming down to rest on your neck once again to give you little pecks, weirdly more tenderly than the ones he had given you before.

But you pulled his mouth off you briefly.

"What's up with yo-"

"Who was he"

His eyes were finally looking at yours after a long while.

"What? What are you talki-"

"Who was that guy"

Your hands now rested on his shoulder blades, feeling the hard touch of metal bellow your right hand.

Frowning your brows, you tried to think about what guy was he talking about.

. . .

You smelled the aura and it smelt musky.

The first scent you picked out first was a strong breeze of sudden whisky, the wet and fermented barley filling up your nose.

Then you smelt a recognizable, stronge cologne floating around your head now. And when you lifted up your head, you saw him.

A mature, bearded man.

He was wearing a long black coat, some glasses keeping your curious eyes from staring at his own ones. You stayed there for a second, he looked oddly familar.

But before you could figure out who was that man, you came back to Earth, remembering that you were winding down after a long day in Seventh Heaven.

You grabbed your drink, resting for a while on your seat until your drink was halfway done.

But before you could walk away from that husky cloud, a large hand grabbed your shoulder, making you face the misterious man.

Your eyes lingered first on his fierce brown eyes, looking at his mature skin, you saw a scar on his left cheek that time had tried to heal, trying to match his skin colour.

You saw his lips move, but you had to re-think your answer before opening your own mouth.

"I saw you back there"

Okay.

You hadn't expected that phrase.

Where could he had seen you anyway? Was he following you?

"I like what you guys are doing for the Planet"

What?

You knew what you were doing was benefitial for the Planet, but Shinra worked so hard into putting your group as a terrorist one and actually killing way more people from the explosions than expected.

But why did he knew?

"Those Shinra guys deserve worse"

It came out as a mumble and you couldn't help but look at him with a puzzled expresion, accepting the friendly pats he gave on your shoulder, thanking you.

That was sweet. . .?

. . .

"Ohh, that man back there?"

He stopped his movements, almost as if letting you know that you were right.

"I saw him to-"

Now you were the one that cut him off, not boring to hide the sly smirk on your face.

"Wait, are you jealous?"

Suddenly his cheeks reddened, but before he could see your grin he lowered his head down into your neck once again.

Ready to make another snicker, you were interruped by his palm now resting on your panties, making you gasp.

His index finger moved up and down and you took matter into your own hands too, quite literally.

He hissed as your bold hand groped him too, trying to lure him into letting you give him some pleasure too.

"Let me make you feel good"

Your heated breathing sent cold shivers down his spine and, as your teeth lightly bit his ear, he lost it.

"So pretty"

You would always praise him, and it would always make him feel sort of bad, he would keep his own thoughts about how gorgerous you were to himself.

But he meant all of them.

His shirt and SOLDIER armour was now discared on the cold floor, your icy hands caressing his abs before finally getting down on your knees.

His absolutely favourite view in the whole Planet.

He helped you take off his belt, letting your overly-excited fingers do the rest of the work. And when you finally got face to face with him, he placed a reassuring hand on your head.

You started off with slow strokes, kitten-kissing his angry red tip. Sensually trailling lower and lower on his shaft just to tease him and rake higher and higher again.

Until he finally had enough, gripping quite hardly your hair.

"Get on with it"

He actually scared himself off at first with his demanding tone, his desesperation seemingly clear on his blushed cheeks as he stared down at you. And you complied, enjoying the choked out gasp you managed to pull out of his throat when you suddenly introduced him halfway into your wet cavern.

Lust filled eyes staring down at the mess you were making on his cock, gripping hardly the counter behind him as he tried not to buck his hips into your mouth.

Not only your sweet face was all in display for him to see, but your sweet, sweet ass was there too.

As dirty as it sounded inside his head

Your hands held his thighs hardly too, enjoying every sound you were being able to pull from him as you took him deeper and deeper. He was big, and it was almost funny how he didn't actually believe you could struggle to take him at first.

But it sure ignited something inside him

He throbbed when he saw you gag on him, help him reach his end with the help of your hand, your glossy eyes staring up at him.

He needed to feel you.

But not like this

So he took your face off him, smashing desesperately his lips against yours once again, feeling a fuzzy tingle inside him as he heavily rested on your lower stomach now.

His hands held your face ridiculously gently compared from how he had gripped your hair just a few seconds ago, walking you backwards until you met the counter once again.

"turn around"

His voice was deeper now, staring daggers into your eyes as he waited for you to obediently follow his lead. And you did.

You bent yourself down, ready to whatever he was going to give you this night right there and then.

And when you felt him pull your skirt up, you pushed your hips back into his hands, making him pull down your panties even slower than he intended to. Almost as if he was getting payback from before.

When they pooled through your ankles, his hand softly massaged your right cheek, feeding off your whines.

"Please"

However, he kept going.

No matter how hard he was, how hardly he wanted to fill you up, to feel you entirely around him once again. He wanted to show you how you were his, how he loved and desired you.

So, without thinking, the harsh sound of a "slap!" filled your ears and ceirtantly, your butt.

You couldn't help yourself but let out a pathetic moan, his hand now rubbing the red spot he had left. He had heard you, and it was the same sound you would let out whenever he was fingering you.

Did you actually like it?

So once he had tested the waters, he set his sights on slipping the nastiest mewls from your mouth tonight.

"Mmph- Cloud"

There it was, his name filling his ears the best way it could've had. So he started teasing your slit with his shaft, more slapping sounds filling up the small appartment as you almost rested your whole chest on the counter now.

You picked out the sound of plastic, something opening up. Which you later would guess was a condom.

But before you could make contact with the cold tile, his left arm surrounded your stomach, pulling you up into him, lips mere centimeters away from your ear.

"I'm going inside now, is that okay?"

How sweet

But sweet wasn't an adjective that matched his dirty and husky tone. His hand was now toying with your front, exposing you to the darkness as he squeezed your breasts now.

So you nodded, feeling suddenly too shy to speak to him.

"Too embarrassed to use your voice now huh?"

And you opened it, but it was useless to his tip now proding your entrance, slowly taking him further and further. Holding the arm that was embracing you, you rolled your head into his shoulder, silently whimpering at the warm feeling.

"Got you, almost there"

His reassuring tone he used with no one really never failed to make your knees feel like jelly.

But his adorable act lasted as quick as you managed to cum with his skilled fingers.

He started to move, and he was clearly desesperate. Setting off a crude, fast pace as you were now fully bent over, his hands gripping your hips. His middle finger was now circling quickly your clit, pulling off the nastiest moans he had wished for.

You imagined his glistening, lean form behind you, making you take all of him, using your tight walls in search for his climax. His hair all ruffled up, a bead of sweat trailing down into his v-line, and the sudden spanks your ass would recieve.

That was your last straw, mewling out his name as you soaked his cock.

And by the way you gripped him even harder, which he thought was impossible now, spasming around him violently.

He was done.

So he followed close behind, painting the plastic walls white, imagining it was you who was taking his load instead.

[sasahuaa]

Can you add scaramouche to your omega character series? He'd be a disastrous omega that needs lots of healing but I'm sure his partner can provide

You're doing great! I love reading your fics and characterization

Scaramouche as an omega

I was really considering Scaramouche before to start with genshin! I was a bit scared to start with Scara because I could see that I would start yapping, and almost did, I had to cut so many things bc my initial idea was to write him in all stages of his life, also not sure if you meant the canon timeline or fatui!scaramouche, but I can do that in the future, for now this fic has some brief mentions of Kabukimono and the fatui. And thank you for the kind words, it means a lot!

gn!reader; cw: contains deep dives into his mindset so he has pessimistic thoughts in some parts (like him thinking that reader is a sort of player, bur nothing too heavy)

This poor omega is indeed disastrous, since the moment his creator abandoned him, Kabukimono was left with a lot of questions regarding his worth. He does not understand, truly, by venturing around he discovered that omegas were not treated with much respect, was that the reason why his mother abandoned him? Does she think an alpha would be more appropriate to be an archon? But he was a puppet, designed by her will, it didn't make sense why she would make him an omega to begin with if that was her reasoning, so what was wrong with him?

The little fledgling was happy during his stay in Tatarasuna, Niwa was a father figure that teached him many skills, and the village helped each other, he was pampered by everyone. What a pity that disaster caused by a doctor's interest befell such a kind community.

Scaramouche felt his dignity crumble more each year, month, day, second that passed. At every step that he was corrupted by the fatui's ideals and methods - his body torn apart from Dottore's experiments - the thoughts of self-doubt grew in his mind. He wasn't enough to be a god, discarded before he had the chance to try, his hands didn't purify the water nor cut through mountains, no one would sing his name in worship, but he also wasn't enough to be human, his skin is artificial, unflawed like porcelain, not even a mechanical heart occupy the emptiness of his hollow chest. Forever lost in between the limbo of where his existence belongs.

For a being so emotional, Scaramouche wonders when was the last time he felt anything besides rage, it doesn't matter too much for him, as he learned how to use his anger as a tool. His underlings - though only in the fatui, as the people of Sumeru never faced the omega's wrath (or better worded, don't remember) - whispered out of his earreach, murmurs wondering if the beautiful omega was capable of love.

And now, carrying the title of Wanderer and face to face with the reason that made the vacant part of him tremble, he finally found the answer.

Courting

Nahida's orders indirectly led him to you, to be a student of the Akademiya would eventually force him to interact with other scholars, you being from Vahumana or not didn't matter, as students from different darshans would often benefited from cooperating. And like many people he met nowadays, he was indifferent at first, which considering his past as The Balladeer, when everyone was an annoying fly in his way, is a considerable improvement.

But for many aspects of life, even as he accepted that this would be something that he never would reach, he was interested in humanity. What makes people human, their flaws, traits, mannerisms and personality, what makes them yield or fill them with confidence. His almost deification didn’t bring him the same satisfaction as he felt with Niwa and the rest of the Tatarasuna people, but watching the Sumeru's citizens may be close enough.

If it's something he can't be, then he will appease himself by observing.

As he looks at alphas, he thinks that this is another thing that he is flawed at. In his studies, Scaramouche determined that omegas supposedly went crazy over alphas, but he never felt it before, or maybe he never gave himself a chance to try. A long time before he learned the consequences of creating genuine connections, that humans tend to betray the same way gods do.

But… he learned that they never did abandon him, that maybe he can trust again.

And while you both worked on your project, these types of thoughts ushered to the top of his mind like never before. You were nice to him,and laughed it off when he was being purposely cunning. You were also attentive, meticulous in your work and doting on him, always bringing him tea or other types of bitter delicacies, and just shrugged when he said there was no need to feed him.

He liked to see your reactions, there were moments when your behaviour took a tired and upset turn, when you mumbled curses about the things that went wrong with your work. It was somewhat relieving and entertaining to witness, that the gentle façade crumbles when faced with challenges.

“It's always better to work with a full stomach” you said, not sparing a thought that he didn't need to eat.

“This is pointless” the omega grumbled, he took a step away from the food.

“So just eat for the satisfaction of it, the success rate of content workers is higher than stressed ones” you insisted, and Scaramouche hated that.

Why do you treat it like there was no trouble in taking care of him? Getting out of your way to please others is dumb, especially for the likes of him.

The omega knows that he is a pessimist, that people always have motives behind their actions, and even Nahida didn't escape his judgement as he does not believe she is merely being kind and benevolent. You are no different, and when he is alone with his thoughts after bidding you goodbye and retiring for the day, he must find your intentions.

As he looks himself in the mirror, Scaramouche looks carefully at his appearance, “alphas and betas are always kinder to pretty omegas, we all know that they only want one thing” it's what the older men from the bazar say. He raises his hands to cup his face, fingers touching smooth skin with no marks, doe indigo eyes look back at him with something akin to divinity, and as he glances lower, he does not think his body lacks in beauty.

That must be it, they clearly are being good to me only to get in my pants!

Scaramouche is not a saint, he knew that, but since he started to work on his path to atonement, he was completely honest about himself. The omega knows that not everyone is like that, people that mask themselves behind lies and generous mannerisms are the worst kind of evil, and to think that you would be capable of that-

Hurts.

There is an annoying pain in his chest and a prickle behind his eyes. He needed proof, he will uncover the worst in you, that's a promise he made to himself.

Scaramouche was snarky and insufferable the following days, refusing to cooperate at all. And though he won't admit it, it was hard for him to do that, your scent wavered with a hint of sadness everytime he was rough, and he felt a need within him clawing to be free, he had to fight himself against releasing a comforting scent to appease you.

But his instinct quieted down whenever he saw you acting honorably to other omegas, when you held the door open for a nobody, or when you generously lent a hand to someone feeling troubled. The rage he felt was immeasurable, he growled lowly and was almost convinced to attack whoever was taking your attention from him.

So he wasn't special at all, he wasn’t needed, he wasn't wanted, it's always like that.

It all came to a boiling point when he snapped at you, harsh words thrown at your directions about what he thought you were doing, messing with omegas hearts just to set them aside when you were done getting what you wanted, truly shameful. Nonetheless, he felt regretful when he saw your pained expression.

“What made you think that?” your voice was quiet, and Scaramouche would prefer if you looked pissed by his accusations, anything to reassure him that he was right “You could have told me you were uncomfortable, I would've stopped”

Uncomfortable? He isn't uncomfortable by your actions towards him, he is… pleased that you did not shy away from a broken thing like him. What he did not like was when you did things for others that he believes should be only for him, and the perceptions he created himself even when you never gave him a reason to.

During all this time Scaramouche was overwhelmed by feelings, and though he is used to feel too much, what he felt about you was completely foreign to him, not the familial care he felt for Niwa and the kid from ages ago, not the gratefulness he felt for Nahida and the traveler for giving him a chance to atone for his mistakes, and not the kinship when he met Durin.

“So are you saying that you were running away from it?” Nahida questioned, placing a flower crown above the omega's head, aranara's joyfully circling around both of them “It's fine to be scared, and if you talk to them about it I am sure they will understand”

“How are you sure that people won't disappoint you? Don't you believe it's easier if you cut the problem by the roof so you never have to discover it?”

“I decide to give an opportunity for everyone to prove themselves, and maybe you would be happily surprised by the results” the goddess cupped his face, pinching the fat of his cheeks and giggling when Scaramouche bat her hands away “You look different since you met them, even your scent doesn't hold that sour end from before”

And he followed Nahida's advice, not because she told him what to do, but staying away from you was killing him inside. This is not normal, is it? To think the world is falling apart just because your desired person is not close by.

Moreover, he guesses that since becoming a citizen of Sumeru he started to work on redeeming himself, what is one more person to apologize for when you acted out of line?

Scaramouche prepared a basket of fruits and Padisarah flowers and headed to your work station, exchanging these types of words is still unfamiliar to him, but he made it very clear that he wanted to improve your relationship.

It's possible that the state of your relationship was just confirmed when someone he was jealous of before questioned him.

“Of course we are courting, don't ask stupid questions”

Honestly, it's possible Scaramouche just came to terms with his feelings after he said that. The omega was still astonished that he is loved back, he doesn't know if he deserves this.

And yet, he can't deny himself the pleasure of being in your arms, taking deep breaths of your scent and resting his eyes with your rumbling under his head. If he is being selfish and taking a good alpha form a good omega, so be it! No one deserves you anyway, if another omega even thinks of taking you from him they will be met with sharp teeth and claws.

You both become inseparable, while it's mostly because he enjoys spending time with you as much as you - and he sees you as one of the few people that it's not a waste of time to be together -, it's also a result of a deeply buried insecurity of being betrayed, he knows that some were misunderstandings, but it's hard to change a mindset after hundreds of years believing in it.

He prefers the reassurance coming from actions instead of words, so when his alpha permit him to scent all of their clothes and also their body, or hold him tight and shows that he belongs by their side when he is feeling bothered by the presence of another, it's moments like this that he feels the most complete.

Scaramouche is truthful in a relationship and he expects you to do the same, if he feels that he needs something and you can provide he will ask, he may not be the romantic type, but everyday he makes it very clear how much he adores you.

He doesn't have a favorite gift to receive - unless you make a table full of sweets, he will complain non-stop if you do that. Spending time together is enough for him, but he appreciates anything you give him, gift him a small plushie and say you thought of him when you saw it, perhaps he will tease you and joke a little, but he will keep it safe. If you give Scaramouche jewelry or any small token, he will bring it with him anywhere he goes. His gifts to you include artifacts he finds when Nahida sends him on expeditions, also Scaramouche doesn't have hobbies for himself, so instead he will engage on yours.

Growling

During the fatui era, growls were very frequent sounds he made, it was almost impossible that someone that worked with him and never heard him growl. And he felt so powerful doing so, a long time ago, while he still lived in Inazuma, omega's were heavily punished if they growled at someone, and though this conservative behavior diminished a lot compared to the past, it was far from being extinguished.

So with his title as a harbinger, Scaramouche growled until they all cowered by his feet, just like a god should be revered.

But since living in Sumeru, he doesn't growl as much anymore, this is because he is not as stressed as before, he lifted the weight off his shoulders that was having to act like something he would never become, he was not trying to sacrifice his body for his objectives anymore. There's the occasional growl when other people irritate him, as a warning to watch their words and actions.

In a relationship with you, Scaramouche also growls when he is feeling jealous or insecure, but overall, he does not growl at you unless he is in a deep mindset that something feels wrong, he will require reassurance in times like this.

Purring

Scaramouche doesn't remember the last time he purred, and now he is almost sure his purr box is broken. The omega has two reasons to think that, one is that it has been centuries, he does not know how to purr due to the disuse of that part of his vocal cords, another is because of the experiments Dottore made on him, turning his body almost inside out.

Nowadays he does not care whether he purrs or not, it's a thing he lived almost his entire life without, and he does not miss it.

If he somehow discovers that he can purr again, it would be an almost inaudible sound. If you want to hear it, you would need to rest your head over his chest, it's more vibrational than vocal. Scaramouche will not purr in public, for him, it's a thing that just both of you should be aware of.

Nesting

Scaramouche does not have a proper nest, actually, what he calls his nest is merely two pillows and one blanket that he carries around his home. at max he will try to put the blanket in a circular shape.

He took a while before introducing you to his nest. He was a bit insecure at first, other omega's have big and filled nests, with an enormous assortment of colors and textures, while his… during the fatui, he would say it was just another thing that proved something was wrong with him.

And he enjoys it so much when you are with him in his nest, you could be just relaxing around the house, and he would bring his blanket and wrap it around you wordlessly. It made him feel warm with adoration whenever he saw you inside something purely his.

He won't get out of his way to buy or make things for his nest, but he will increment it if it is a gift from his alpha. He thinks it is kind of lovable that his alpha would try to get things to make him more comfortable, and Scaramouche deeply appreciates that.

Marking

He marks you all the time, even before you started to officially court. His scent is now almost ingrained into your skin, and if he already had permission to give you a biting mark, he would.

It's not just a sign for other omegas that you are already committed to him, it's also a reminder for you, that you have an omega to come back to, and that he would do anything to keep you with him.

But even after he becomes confident that you won't leave him behind - no omega or yourself is going to separate you from him - he still covers you in his smell, Scaramouche became very fond of the whole process of scent marking and to claim you for himself.

It's therapeutic to him, he will nuzzle quietly your cheeks and bring the scent glands of his wrists to your neck, not a single gland of your go untouched. For him, it's a mandatory procedure that you must go through before leaving home, especially if your agendas oblige you to not be together for the rest of the day.

Subspace

He never entered subspace before you, and it also took a while for you to achieve that. He denied himself the mindset many times before, he felt kinda scared by it, to be so vulnerable. Anytime he felt that his mind was starting to feel like it was becoming cotton filled, Scaramouche immediately backed away from you and tried to distract himself.

When he does enter subspace, he is whiny and clingy, following you around your home and hugging you when you are busy, from behind if you are cooking, sitting on your lap and throwing his arms around your neck while you work.

Scaramouche feels like he took a shot of serotonin when he smells your skin, he is addicted, touching every exposed part of your body to his contentment. He also likes to bite, so you probably will be covered by marks of nibbles by the end of it.

And when he sobers up again he gets flustered easily, he can't believe he let instincts control over his body. He will hiss if you mention anything that he did during subspace. Nonetheless, he will eventually get into it again and the cycle will repeat itself.

☽ ☼ ☾

Scaramouche supposes things should turn out like they were before, that everything would come back to normal, he followed Nahida's advice, the instinct in his gut that begs to be with you, and yet, it seems worse than before. The omega may have had a strong reaction before and jumped into conclusions far from the truth, but he has also gotten used to silently pine for you, not expecting anything from it - maybe he can be and was aggressive towards other people that had your attention, but he won't mention it! -, for he can count the number of times in his long life that situations turned into his favor.

But Scaramouche reminded himself that he has to learn that your entire existence is too good to be true. You give him hope in many ways that he never imagined before. Your arms are stretched before him, holding a light blue and soft blanket.

“And for what reason would you give me that?” he stepped forward, picking the material from your hands.

“Can't you guess?” you chuckled and shook your head, the movement dispersed your scent that was reeking of amusement “If anything, see it as a gift to compensate the time we spend apart, to show how much I cherish you”

His eyes widen at the proclamation, under his nose he can smell that the blanket is scented. An item for a nest and carrying your smell, isn't that a sign of a courting gift? He couldn't help but hug the blanket tighter at the thought.

“Thank you for trying to look out for me”

For a long time he desired for a normal life, all his objectives from the past had the intention to lead to it, sadly all was for nothing, and he hopes he didn't look pitiful for that. And yet, in front of him, he saw an opportunity for that, he just needed to reach for you.

Once again, he gives himself the chance to dream of a better future.

[galatially]

❝𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲❞

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 / 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐗: 𝐭𝐨 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — 𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐮𝐬!𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟 x 𝐞𝐮𝐫𝐲𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐞!𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — she was my sun, my moon, the flesh i never shed; what's a demigod to do when the love of his life is gone?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 1.8K

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈, 𝟏𝟖+, strong language, graphic depictions of the death of a main character, graphic depictions of violence

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — i just want to give myself a pat on the back for finally getting this out of my laptop lol

He hadn’t known how long he’d been sat sedentary. 

When Pietro emerged from the cavern, the sun blinding him, his hands were in front of him. Palms open and fingers half-curled around nothing, as if something had slipped from his grasp. Once again, everything around him slowed. He vaguely recalls his father pulling him into his arms, his tears wetting his shoulder. He can’t recall how he’d managed the way home. 

Natalya’s lavender perfume is the next thing Pietro’s senses recognize. 

Her muffled sobs against his shoulder and her hands holding him tight against her body felt so…removed. All the while, his hands never fell. Fingers held their position like stone and his features fixed in that moroseness that he’d only felt once coming home from war. 

He felt hands curl around his shoulders and guide him towards his room. 

“Rest, Pietro,” it’s Wanda’s voice now and the sun has long gone, “I’ll see you in the morning.” She closed the door behind her. 

Pietro didn’t sleep that night.

The hollow ache in Pietro’s chest wailed his mournful dirge until it sunk into his bones, froze the blood in his veins. He pondered if he’d ever remember how to feel again. 

“Pietro? My love, you must eat.” Natalya sat at the end of his bed and took hold of his fisted hand. “What can I do?”

“There is nothing neither I or you can do, Mother.” 

His voice was rough and flat. Natalya could’ve cried at how…unlike himself Pietro had become. Where music and light used to surround him, darkness shrouded him in its cloud. Her beautiful boy had turned into a shell of himself before her very eyes. “Pietro, you need to leave this room. Your father is worried. Wanda is worried.” She let out a shuddery sigh. “I’m worried.”

Pietro let out a hard chuckle. “What is there to worry over? My love — my life — is gone. My faith wavered and I lost her for the second time.” His blue eyes cut to his mother’s, a hand flat against his chest. “I feel as if I’ve been hollowed out, my heart ripped from its cavity and stole away.”

Natalya let out a choked sob and gathered her son between her limbs. She held him tight as if she were willing his pain to siphon into her bosom. She pressed soft kisses to his temple and whispered honeyed promises that she knew she couldn’t keep. “Oh, my boy. How I wish that I could take your pain from you.”

“I wouldn’t wish this upon anyone. God, man, or anything in between.”

Natalya cradled his face in her hands. “What do you want me to do, Pietro? What can I do?”

Pietro tried to find his tongue, coax the words from his throat but nothing came. He shook his head and gave his mother a heavy sigh. 

Nothing mattered when the sun in his life dimmed the minute he turned around.

Mournful wails, both beautiful and ruinous, enthralling all that passed Pietro by as he lay in the empty wheat fields. The winds wailed in protest as they’d swayed the trees around him. The beautiful lyre that his father had gifted him played the melancholy notes his fingers plucked. If one listened closely, they could hear its tearful pleas for its owner’s happiness. 

For three years, the demigod roused from his slumber and made his way to the fields either armed with his lyre or kithara to sing in his lost love’s honor. Many ballads in memoriam of the fallen Y/N, melodic dirges regaling the kingdom of Thrace of the nymph that once was. 

“Oy, boy!”

Pietro turned, met with three statuesque women, fawn-skin against their bodies, coming towards him. A wildness shrouded them, their footfalls mimicking some kind of half-remembered dance from the old Gods. 

“Sing us a song. Something happy and bright,” one said. 

Another — blonde? Brunette? — woman moved in front of him, dragging her fingers along his bicep. She leaned in, her breath fanning against his skin. “You’re Pietro of Thrace, are you not?”

“I used to be.”

“Oh?” The third of the women had moved behind him, running her fingers through his hair. “And who are you now?”

Who was he? Pietro didn’t miss the way his family shadowed him as if walking on the frailest glass, waiting for his cracks to finally splinter off. For him to shatter into innumerable, irreparable pieces. 

“Perhaps we could bore you anew,” another woman cooed. “Come, bard. Let us imbibe.”

When the very tips of her nails skimmed a line down his clothed chest, Pietro took hold of her wrist. 

“No.”

The first woman made a noise and stood firm behind her friend. “Release her.”

“She — I don’t know what you think is going to transpire here but I implore you maids to leave me be.” 

His voice was rough as he spoke, foreign to his own ears. 

Both women glared at him as the shorter of the two snatched her arm back. 

Hands took hold of Pietro’s arms and trapped them in a vice grip against his back. With more vigor than he’d had in years, he fought against the hold to no avail. 

“You dare threaten us? Followers of Dionysus?” A blade kissed the skin of his neck. “We are not mere maids, boy. We are Maenads.”

Recognition was foggy in his mind’s eye as he tried to recall where he’d heard the term. 

The first blow to his head shocked him so still he couldn’t react. Sound faded in and out from his ears, the women’s taunts muffled only so as they continued their assault. For all of his bravado moments prior, Pietro couldn’t muster the strength to defend himself. Perhaps that posturing was more for the memory of you than for himself. How could he in good faith let someone lay with him the way you once did?

Another kick to his torso stole the breath from his lungs. 

“Are you too weak to spar against women, Pietro of Thrace?” the blonde sneered. 

“Or is the boy-king too heartbroken to fight back?”

The thought made Pietro tense. Gods, was he. Too grief-stricken to do much of anything besides lament but too aware of his effects on those around him to rectify his woes. How relieving it’d be if he could just…stop. Be frozen in a moment so long that —

And then it struck him. 

He didn’t have to stay here. He could be with his beloved once more. 

Pietro had expected pain — blinding, paralyzing agony as his limbs were ripped from him. Instead, he felt relief. Gratifying calm to the agonizing guilt that had overtook him for so long. As if he were watching beyond himself, Pietro watched as they threw his head, still moaning his songs, and his lyre into the accompanying stream and took their leave. 

His disembodied head and secondary prized possession — still sounding with choruses of sorrow — ebbed and flowed down the River Hebrus and to the sea. The waves cradled him with such tenderness that he could swear his mother’s arms were around him. 

Once the isle of Lesbos splayed out along the horizon did Pietro finally let his song end and his eyes close from exhaustion. It wouldn’t be much longer until he’d find himself along the River Styx. 

He’d hoped that you would be waiting in the field you’d first met. 

Softness ghosted along the edge of Pietro’s jaw. 

The warmth of the sun splayed across the expanse of his face and a breeze kicked up his curls. 

“Pietro.”

His heart seized; it couldn’t be. Whatever cruel dream this was spun for Pietro would surely do him in should he open his eyes.

“Pietro, wake up. Open your eyes.”

“If I open them, you’ll be gone,” he said, feebly. 

You chuckled. “I am here, my love. Just as you are here with me.” You brushed your fingertips across his brow and placed a soft kiss to his warm skin. “Open your eyes, sweet boy.”

Pietro’s eyes fluttered open, tears brimming at the edges. How long had it been since he’d last seen you? Your beauty was as radiant as ever, arresting as the first day you’d met. His hands cupped your face and he rested his forehead against yours. “My sweet girl. Gods be praised!”

You let out a tearful laugh. “I’ve been waiting quite a while for you.”

“I should’ve trusted them.” Pietro let out a shuddery breath. “I shouldn’t have looked back, Y/N.”

“It’s okay, Pietro. I understand.” 

“No, no, my love. It isn’t. I shouldn’t have kept you that morning. I should’ve let you go.”

“Would you like to know something?” Pietro nodded. “When I awoke here, I couldn’t remember my name. I didn’t know what I looked like. I was a stranger in my own body. I wandered this field every day, committed every poppy and stone to memory, vignettes of something playing in my mind. 

“And then you came to collect me. I couldn’t place where I’d seen you before or why you were leading me out of the Underworld, but I could remember the sorrow in your voice. You seemed so…lost and desperate. When you finally turned around, I knew that I’d seen your eyes before but couldn’t place where.”

Pietro sniffed. “I was so stupid, Y/N. An idiot.”

“As soon as I was brought back, I remembered who you were, Pietro. My husband, the love of my life.” Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “I wanted to grow old with you, the years etching lines our faces of the lives we’d lived.” 

“And look at what I’ve done. I’ve condemned you to death.” Pietro shook his head. “You were going to be a scholar.” His eyes and hands dropped to your torso. “You could have been a mother by now. We could have had eternity to live.”

You put a hand to his cheek and smiled bright. “So, instead, we’ll spend eternity as shades. We will walk hand in hand, side by side, as we did in life. We will spend the rest of our immortal days as husband and wife.”

“But — ”

“Pietro, there is nothing that your worrisome mind could conjure that will sway my words. I’ve told you many times now, but it seems I will have to say it again.” You gave him the brightest smile. “I am to be by your side until the world slips from Atlas’ shoulders. I will follow you wherever you may roam, for however long your legs will carry you. I am yours and you are mine.” 

He let out a shuddery chuckle. “Are you sure you’re not a poet? That was beautiful.”

“I learned from the best,” you said, bringing his fingers to your lips to kiss. “I love you, Pietro Maximoff.”

Pietro rested his forehead against yours. Of two things he was absolutely certain: you were his and nothing would keep him from you — not even Death himself. 

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — and that's it, y'all! the fact that i've finally finished this is really unbelievable and i'm really proud of myself! i hope that everyone enjoyed my take on a classic greek myth and y'all had as much fun reading it as i had writing it

[vestigialprosthetics]

I fear I have been overriden by these logical fallacies, eradicating my ability to exterminate adversity. I have instigated this fear countless times, whilst abundant and unknown, it seeps into my skin, sulking into a soul poisoned with anxiety. Nevertheless, it turns synonymous to the manifestation, an apparition. A figure, a fragment, a force, of you. A fragile cultivation of all I have loved and lost, a fragment of my life and a figment of imagination.

This misery pools around my ankles and weighs me down against the barren soil. The grinding sand cut away at flesh and draws blood; I fear I will wither away, decompose before I see you once more. Nature's warmth pulls me closer to a rhythmic pulse I would never absorb from our intimacies. But I do remain compliant. My bones and body erode as the epitome of my being turns inside out to reveal my consciousness The vultures pluck and pick, savouring the warmth and sweetness fermented in my heart. In the quiet mornings of dawn, they taste the ballads you sing and the poison in me subsides. I will forget again, they crush the memories of you mulled within me. But there are engravings bearing my bones deeply. The marrow is sucked dry, and I have carved myself hollow to be left with the foreign tattoos of despair. There lies the carcass of an animal, a rapid beast violent with love, and derived of feeling. The wind whispers the sweet melancholy of your name after I breathe out the familiar vowels, and you travel farther than I could ever have. I am unrecognizable now, but the voices share your name in stories you'll never hear.

[antigoneikk]

stretch out my arms, as long as they need to be

chapter two

pairing: sidney phillips/eugene sledge

tags/warnings: suicide attempt, catatonic depression, period-typical attitudes, homophobia, PTSD

summary:

"What can he say, except I did it because I love you. Because I love you too much to speak the words out loud? "

Eugene wants to die. Sid wants to fix him. Neither is able to get what they want.

snippet below the cut:

The third item in Sid’s hands is a book. The Kipling. Backroom Ballads. He can’t quite breathe. He holds it up to the light, opening the thing. It’s covered now in a white powder he recognizes intimately as coral dust. But it’s still theirs. Eugene had found it, somehow. And he’d kept it, and he’d written in it. He flips through the thing, trying to find “If”. The poem is in the middle of the book, the title splattered with a dark brown spot that can only be blood. In the margin, in Eugene’s slanted handwriting, is a new stanza, scrawled out in hurried penmanship:

“If you can hold a bullet in your teeth And spit out a whole hollow world of loathing If you can hold the mortar’s heart–River Lethe You can find where the soul lives. Ever imploding Crashing through the barrier of sound. I scream unending. All the men are lost.”

[selineram3421]

This isn't really an ask but I saw your post talking about writing a song for Falling Snow and since I was already having a hard time getting to sleep I decided to throw something together.

I based it on some of my own anxieties I have projected onto y/n of not feeling wanted as you are, based on some of the events that have happened in the story (e.g. their friends sacrificing them, coming from a rough home life, Kyle wanting to date them, and now Heaven insisting they lie about their experience in hell). I wrote the song as a ballad depicting their frustration with how they've been treated in the past, finally finding someone who wants them as they are, and then losing that person to be forced to change for others once again.

The lyrics and music are simple and I definitely don't expect this to be a final product since it is just something I put together while sleep-deprived, but I hope they help you figure out what you'd like to do for the character's song.

[Verse 1] In the quiet night, I’m lost in my own mind

Brush strokes of doubt, colors indestinct.

I see the world through weary eyes,

Hiding away, force to tell their lies.

[Chorus]

I can't be their blank canvas,

To paint with shades of who they want me to be.

I'd be a masterpiece if allowed the chance,

To find myself.

[Verse 2]

Caught in the tangle of expectations,

Hiding behind a mask of false creations.

But deep inside, a fire burns bright,

Longing to break free and embrace the light.

[Bridge]

So I'll pick up the pieces, one by one,

Reveal the truth they’ve been hiding from

My canvas bares scars, stories entwined

Incomplete portraits of dreams, scattered, undefined.

[Verse 3]

Then you came, a shadow in the night,

Embracing me with crimson charm, a mesmerizing sight.

Together, we waltzed, our hearts astray

You and I too quickly pulled away.

[Chorus]

I can't be a blank canvas,

To paint with hues that mock my identity.

I'm a soul with depth and purpose,

Yearning to show my true intensity.

[Verse 4]

Now you've vanished, leaving echoes in your wake,

I'm left alone in this realm, a hollow ache.

Once again, I'm shackled by society's guise,

Longing for the day when authenticity rises.

*me trying not to cry in class* I love it.

[oflorien]

FAR   FROM   A   CREATURE   WITHOUT   THE   WARMTH   OF   LOVE,   YET   SHE   WAS   BORN   WITH   LONELINESS   CARVED   INTO   HER   CHEST.   an   ache   that   calls   from   within;   homesick   for   a   place,   a   person,   a   wholeness   to   call   her   own.   all   to   imagine   it   as   some   empty   space,   a   hollow   for   another   to   burrow   within.   made   as   just   a   sliver   of   moon   or   missing   the   glow   like   an   unfinished   star.   ❛   yes,   though   it   feels   wrong   for   me   to   say.   ❜   guilt   did   not   change   the   slow   agony   crept   about   by   way   of   hovering   shadows.   ordinary   child   of   legendary   parentage   had   learned   to   make   peace   with   that   she   could   not   attain.   in   the   din   of   all   that   gold,   she   was   fixed   to   crowded   rooms   and   empty   meaning.   hallowed   charm   wasted   upon   faces   of   political   intrigue   or   those   that   could   not   see   beyond   her   lineage.   ❛   just   an   ache   that   sits   atop   my   heart   like   an   open   wound   that   won’t   sew   itself   shut.   is   that   how   it   feels   for   you   ?   ❜   wistful   husk   through   parted   lips.

until   it   is,   celebrían   turns   under   the   veil   of   night   sky   and   canopy   of   golden   leaves   beneath   a   favoured   lindon   tree.   SHE   TRADES   ONE   ACHE   FOR   ANOTHER.   longing   held   within,   filled   to   levels   that   might   devour   the   soul   of   any   mortal   fëa.   yet,   under   his   light   every   notion   of   loneliness   begins   to   cower.   to   one   as   beautiful   as   he   who   has   lost   so   much   and   still   remained   so   kind.   how   she   wishes   to   gently   pull   the   tendrils   of   grief   from   his   heart   and   carry   it   for   him. 

❛   elrond?   ❜   she   holds   his   name   in   bashful   query   under   her   tongue,   uttered   as   though   it   were   the   only   word   to   ever   matter   in   any   language.   then   comes   the   slip   of   a   trembling   hand,   fray   of   nerves   overrun   by   her   need   to   feel   him.   she   tangles   her   fingers   with   his,   squeezing   ever   so   softly   —   smile   lifted   this   way   only   when   he   was   near.   a   staggered   little   breath   catches   in   her   throat,   gilded   gaze   finds   his.   a   look   of   reverence   both   in   tenderness   and   torment,   one   that   could   be   sung   as   ballad.   ❛   i   never   feel   that   way   when   i’m   with   you.   ❜   the   pause   extends   for   hardly   a   second   but   eternity   runs   dry   in   her   throat.   ❛   i   feel   whole.   ❜

❛  do you ever feel like there's something missing ... like a piece of your heart is somewhere else?  ❜ @elr0nds

[stinkrascal]

girl i love hearing about your characters !! tell me more abt the embassy members, where r they from?? interests? fun facts !! i love it all

helloooooooo 🥀 i will talk about nadia and helena bc they're my favorites!

nadia has been the headmaster of forgotten hollow for about a century now, one of the longest running leaders in history. they are the oldest member of the embassy, well over 900 years old, though nobody seems to know where she originated or if she has always been so, not even vladislaus. her coven doesn't question her, however, and despite its sheer size there seems to be unprecedented peace among her spawn. as the headmaster, they've sired many spawn. that doesn't mean she hasn't had to kill to assert her place; most know better than to test her, but some need reminding. of course, she's not just the headmaster! a leader needs many hobbies to keep a robust mind. in nadia's spare time she enjoys painting, you can see one of her paintings on the 12th picture in this post here. she's also a musician who's taught herself to play nearly every instrument. she's the one who taught vladislaus to play the piano, and on occasion you can still find her playing a ballad with helena, though they have been noticeably more distant since vladislaus's turning some 200 years ago. for some unknown reason, nadia's powers have begun waning, and with it, their ability to cast the protective barriers shrouding forgotten hollow. she hasn't lost all hope, though. with helena's help, nadia has been able to facilitate peace among the vampires and the mages for decades; she's spent years working closely with them for a cure to her sudden ailment.

helena is the second youngest embassy member, only about 50 years older than vladislaus, who is the youngest and the newest member of forgotten hollow's embassy. she is a half-vampire, half-mage, born to a vampire father and a witch mother who have both long since perished. she keeps this fact a secret; only a select few know of her mage blood, among them being nadia and the archmage in glimmerbrook known as L faba. though she used to be headmaster nadia's right hand, it seems she's fallen out of favor since straud's arrival. she tries not to let that bother her, though; she's an exceptional vampire, save for those few-and-far between instances where the smell and sight of blood repulses her. those who know her well might insist it is her mage blood warring against her vampiric nature, but, really, helena insists it's a sensory issue more than anything else. don't let her magical nature fool you, though; helena is an accomplished vampire in her own right with a decent coven of about a dozen spawnlings of her own. it is even said that these vampires are especially magically adept, capable of producing magic most vampires cannot. though her mentoring duties keep her preoccupied, she enjoys sitting in nature, foraging, and brewing potions in her spare time, what little of it she has left.

[karolsai]

Agnes Obel - Riverside

Lost Frequencies - Are You With Me

Route 94 - My Love ft. Jess Glynne

Sun.Set.Ships - Sinking Islands

Sivuca - Ain't No Sunshine

Chicane - Offshore

2CELLOS - Street Spirit (Radiohead)

PJ Harvey - The River

Bonobo - Kong

Leszek Możdżer - Africa

Carlos Santana - Samba Pa Ti

Lotte Kestner - Halo

Devlin - Watchtower (Instrumental)

RockSexton - I'll Be With You Again

The Verve - Sonnet

Serge Gainsbourg - Initials BB

ElevenHill - Room Of Ghosts

Richard Müller - Nespoznaný

Puddle Of Mudd - Blurry

Plan B - Love Goes Down

Duke Dumont - Ocean Drive

The Weeknd - Starboy ft. Daft Punk

Shura - White Light

Biffy Clyro - Re-arrange

R. City - Locked Away ft. Adam Levine

Richard Müller - Julia Roberts

Faithless - Drifting Away

Chicane - Saltwater

Eric Clapton - Change The World

Morgan James - Human

Mukatado & Janka Kozáková - Husičky

Keosz - Low Down

Whithe - Wolves Are Gone

Casi Cada Minuto - Lies & Goodbyes

Toni Braxton - Long As I Live

Seal - Crazy

Beck - Colors

Lisa Stansfield - Billionaire

Robin Schulz - Sun Goes Down ft. Jasmine Thompson

Camila Cabello - Havana

Tom Walker - Leave a Light On

Travis - 3 Miles High

Mark Ronson - Nothing Breaks Like a Heart

Worakls - Coeur de la Nuit

Dinelo - This Could Be True ft. PRYVT RYN

Dennis Lloyd - Nevermind

Calvin Harris - I'm Not Alone (CamelPhat Remix)

Matt Simons - Catch & Release (Deepend Remix)

Mike Perry ft. SHY Martin - The Ocean

Kygo ft. Kodaline - Raging

call me Steve - HANDS UP

Coldplay - Talk

The Chainsmokers - Hope ft. Winona Oak

Billie Eilish - everything i wanted

Elbow - One Day Like This

Imagine Dragons - Nothing Left To Say

Arsy-Versy - PRESTAVUJEM SI KRAJINU

AJR - BANG!

Hooverphonic - Romantic

Ladytron - Destroy Everything You Touch

Bleeker - Give a Little Bit More (Disaster)

Refew - ZPRÁVY

Lamb - Gabriel

The XX - Intro (long version)

Martin Matys - David (Prod. Kenny Rough)

Shawn Mendes, Camila Cabello - Señorita

Madcon - Glow

Melanie Fiona - Monday Morning

Coldplay - Orphans

Naughty Boy ft. Beyoncé, Arrow Benjamin - Runnin' (Lose It All)

TERI ČIKOŠ - DIEVČA

Jon Secada - Just Another Day

Tichá dohoda - Kde spí andělé

Passenger - Caravan (Kygo Remix)

Papyllon - WHAT ABOUT TONIGHT

Sophie B. Hawkins - Damn! I Wish I Was Your Lover

Komajota - Iba

Aura - I Will Love You Monday

alt-J - Left Hand Free

CHVRCHES - Forever

Pet Shop Boys - Paninaro 95

The Lumineers - The Ballad Of Cleopatra

Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats - I Need Never Get Old

Weezer - Africa (starring Weird Al Yankovic)

MS MR - Painted

Porter Robinson - Look at the Sky

Atlas Genius - Molecules

Suede - Stay Together

The Head and the Heart - All We Ever Knew

Dayglow - Can I Call You Tonight?

MUSE - Something Human

Adam Lambert - ROSES ft. Nile Rodgers

Arcade Fire - Everything Now

Seekers - I'll Never Find Another You

lovelytheband - broken

Daft Punk - Instant Crush ft. Julian Casablancas

DEAN LEWIS - Be Alright

Kristína Tran - Čo to dá

LINA MAYER - Stratená

LENNY - Hell.o (Fancy Cars Remix)

Anna K. - Co mi za to dáš

Anna K. - Volá tě noc (Live)

Aneta Langerová - Bílý Den

Smith & Myers - REBEL YELL

Malik Harris - Rockstars

Sia - Unstoppable

Sanchez Amsterdam - Motýle

Kristína - Navždy

Katie Melua - If You Were A Sailboat

Sam Ryder - Space Man

Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness - Cecilia And The Satellite

HAEVN - We Are (Symphonic Tales)

Komajota - 7 noci

Kate Bush - Running Up That Hill (Western Film Score Version)

Röyksopp - Oh, Lover ft. Susanne Sundfør

Zuzana Mikulcová - Blind Tomorrow

Klaxons - Echoes

Bloc Party - This Modern Love

Interpol - Stella Was A Diver

it was the eLs - Hollow Coves Playlist

Depeche Mode - Ghosts Again

LUKA SULIC - LIVE at No Borders Music Festival

Duncan Laurence - Arcade

Doja Cat - Paint The Town Red

Requin Chagrin - Sémaphore

Marika Gombitová - Čo s láskou

Christine and the Queens - Full of Life

Sia - Elastic Heart ft. Shia LaBeouf & Maddie Ziegler

Martin Matys x Kenny Rough - Home Alone

REYKO - Spinning Over You

Interpol - Say Hello to the Angels

The Killers - All These Things That I've Done

[vindieselsfacebook-blog]

Meaning/references behind every Gilmore Girls episode title - Season 2, Part 2

Masterlist: Season 1 Season 2, Part 1 Season 2, Part 2 Season 3, Part 1 Season 3, Part 2

My notes: - As always, please correct anything I've gotten wrong and share your own insight! - Many of these notes are pulled from and/or learned via annotatedgilmoregirls.com - an absolute icon! - Obsessed with Jess kind of mimicking the behavior of the little boy in the A-Tisket, A-Tasket nursery rhyme. Such a cute detail I never noticed. - I've made comments before about how much I enjoy all the parallels the relationships in this show have with the song I Can't Get Started and what a perfect choice it is for this point in the series, even as a reflection of Sookie's optimistic, naive outlook on love. :')

Season 2, Part 2

Secrets and Loans The title is a reference to the 1996 British drama film Secrets & Lies, directed by Mike Leigh. The film is about an adopted woman who seeks out her birth mother and the many secrets and lies involved in the process. “Loans” refers to Lorelai’s struggles to secure a loan to pay for the termite-related repairs on her home. “Secrets” can refer to several stories in the episode - Lorelai trying to deal with her money problems in secret, keeping secrets strategically from her parents, and even Lane keeping her foray into cheerleading a secret from Rory.

Richard in Stars Hollow Richard spends the day struggling to spend quality time with Lorelai and Rory in Stars Hollow, exacerbating his feelings of uselessness after being forced into retirement. Perhaps a reference to the episode title from season one “Emily in Wonderland” where Emily has her own day in Stars Hollow, which itself is a reference to Alice in Wonderland.

A-Tisket, A-Tasket The episode is named for an English nursery rhyme, first recorded in the US in 1879 as a children’s game, sung while children danced in a circle. One child would run around the circle and drop a handkerchief; the nearest child to them would then pick it up and chase them. If caught, the child who dropped the handkerchief would either be kissed, join the circle, or had to confess the name of their sweetheart. The rhyme was turned into a popular jazz standard song by Ella Fitzgerald in 1938. The lyrics to the rhyme are usually given as: “A-tisket, a-tasket A green and yellow basket I wrote a letter to my love And on the way I dropped it, I dropped it, I dropped it, And on the way I dropped it. A little boy he picked it up And put it in his pocket.” It’s suitable for an episode all about baskets, romance, and miscommunication. Similarly to the little boy in the rhyme finding the letter and pocketing it, Jess finds Rory’s dropped bracelet and takes it.

It Should've Been Lorelai Emily cruelly tells Lorelai: “It should’ve been you!” in regards to Christopher seemingly finally getting his life together, but for another woman and not Lorelai as apparently the whole Gilmore family always kind of assumed. Possibly a reference to the 1990 ballad, It Should’ve Been You by Teddy Pendergrass.

Lost and Found A lost and found is a place where lost property is kept. Rory ends up finding her lost bracelet, which was arguably taken and returned by Jess.

There's the Rub The phrase is taken from Shakespeare’s famous “To be or not to be” soliloquy from the play Hamlet. “To die - to sleep. To sleep - perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub!” The origin is the ancient game of bowls (also known as lawn bowling). A rub is some fault in the surface of the green that stops a bowl or diverts it from its intended direction. The term is recorded first a few years before Shakespeare’s time and is still in use. It appears, too, in golf, in the expression rub of the green, which refers to an accident that stops a ball in play and for which no relief is allowed under the rules. It later became a broader term for an abstract impediment or hindrance. The title also cheekily refers to the spa Lorelai and Emily visit to get massages (physically rubbed).

Dead Uncles and Vegetables Luke deals with the aftermath of his uncle’s death. Taylor fights with the proprietor of a new farmer’s market across the street from Doose's Market - hence the “vegetables”.

Back in the Saddle Again To “get back in the saddle” means to return to something after a break or absence, often after some kind of failure or setback. The phrase originated in the early 19th century and referred to cowboys and other professional riders who had suffered an injury, but were now recovered and “back in the saddle” to continue their normal lives. By the late 19th century, it had begun to be used in the more general sense, to mean returning to any activity. It’s also the title of a signature song from American cowboy entertainer Gene Autry. It was co-written by Autry with Ray Whitley and first released in 1939. The song was associated with Autry throughout his career and was used as the name of Autry's autobiography in 1976. Members of the Western Writers of America chose it as fifth of the Top 100 Western songs of all time. This episode is about Richard “getting back in the saddle” as he comes out of retirement.

Teach Me Tonight Teach Me Tonight is a jazz standard with lyrics by Sammy Cahn and music by Gene De Paul, written in 1953. It was recorded several times, most famously by Dinah Washington in 1954. It’s a very romantic “hot for teacher” song, making it clear how strongly the student feels about their tutor – and that their feelings are returned. As in the song, this episode takes place close to the end of the school year - although not literally near graduation. “Did you say I’ve got a lot to learn? Well, don’t think I’m tryin’ not to learn Since this is the perfect spot to learn Oh, teach me tonight Let’s start with the A B C of it Roll right down to the X Y Z of it Help me solve the mystery of it Teach me tonight The sky’s a black board High above you If a shooting star goes by I’ll use that star to write I love you A thousand times across the sky One thing isn’t very clear, my love Should the teacher stand so near, my love? Graduation’s almost here, my love Come on and teach me tonight” This is also the song that Morey plays in S1E3 after he finds Cinnamon, who Babette thought was still stuck under the porch steps.

Help Wanted A sign commonly displayed on doors by businesses looking for staff. This episode is all about Richard finding a secretary for his new business.

Lorelai's Graduation Day Lorelai graduates with a business degree from her Community College.

I Can't Get Started The title of a popular song composed by Vernon Duke with lyrics by Ira Gershwin in 1936. It was introduced in the film Ziegfield Follies of 1936, performed by Bob Hope and Eve Arden. The 1937 version by jazz trumpeter Bunny Berigan went to #10 in the charts and was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame in 1975. Sookie chooses the Ella Fitzgerald version for her wedding, which was included on her 1953 album, Sweet and Hot. It’s also on her 1973 live album, Newport Jazz Festival: Live at Carnegie Hall which also includes A-Tisket, A-Tasket, the title of episode S2E13. Lorelai protests that the lyrics are far too depressing for a wedding song, being about a relationship that will never get off the ground: “I’ve flown around the world in a plane I’ve settled revolutions in Spain The North Pole I have charted, but I can’t get started with you Around the golf course I’m under par And all the movies want me to star I’ve got a house, a show place, but I get no place with you You’re so supreme, lyrics I write of you Scheme, just for a sight of you Dream, both day and night of you And what good does it do? In 1929 I sold short In England I’m presented at court But you’ve got me downhearted, cause I can’t get started with you You’re so supreme, lyrics I write of you Scheme, just for a sight of you Dream, both day and night of you And what good does it do?” These lyrics seemingly tell the tale of both Lorelai and Rory’s current relationship dramas. We've been through so much and I can't shake you, but for some reason we just can't make it work. It just isn't meant to be. Another textbook Sookie moment for her to love a song just because of the romantic vibes and unintentionally pick one that feels like an accidental read of her best friend.

[denimbex1986]

'When Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s romantic ballad “The Power of Love” plays and the scene fades to the twinkling night sky, director Andrew Haigh leaves you with profound emotional emptiness.

Pinpointing that precise emotion is a challenge. With dialogue inspired by the saddest parts of your childhood, did All of Us Strangers evoke devastation? Once you made it through the film’s vivid depictions of grief, did you walk away with a stronger understanding of love? Or did you come away with the terrifying realization that loneliness can plague us all?

In All of Us Strangers, loosely based on Taichi Yamada’s 1987 novel, Haigh ties these emotions together then slowly unravels their consequence: distance resulting from unresolved grief. How do you revisit the memories when there’s so much you wish you said? How do you move on?

Haigh explored all of this and more through lonely screenwriter Adam, played by Andrew Scott, who lives in an eerily empty high-rise on the outskirts of London. Adam struggles to write about his past despite routinely visiting his childhood home. A home where his parents, portrayed by Claire Foy and Jamie Bell, are living peacefully — just as they were 30 years ago before they died in a car crash.

Back at his London high-rise, Adam begins a romance with his cryptic neighbour Harry, portrayed by Paul Mescal. As Top of the Pops reruns play in the background, Harry shows up at Adam’s door in the middle of the night, nursing a bottle of whiskey and an irresistible charm.

All of Us Strangers uses fantasy as a vessel for the all-too-real emotions of grief. And maybe that’s what makes it so effective — examining grief by suspending belief. A big part of grieving is wondering what could have been, and how the person you lost would react to the person you are now.

Adam displays layered complexity through profound loneliness, his eyes always a little hollow and vulnerable. He elicits youthful innocence in an adult body as he begins to unwind his childhood trauma. In the film’s most tender moments, Adam’s vulnerability is present whether crawling into bed to snuggle with his parents, or coming out as gay to his trying-to-be-understanding mother.

Adam’s relationship with his parents fuels the film’s melancholic pace. Scott’s purity paired with Bell’s melting hard exterior complements the warm moments between Foy and Scott.

Scott avidly navigates Adam’s need to open himself to love with nervous tremors and sheepish disposition, and coming to the realization that the loneliness from his childhood is not something he can simply brush off.

Loneliness plagues Harry, too. He is far from perfect, but that doesn’t steer Adam away. In Adam’s mind, his lover is a little like himself: lonely but craving intimacy. A specific type of loneliness perfect for Mescal’s character, whose stare and brilliant smile mask a lingering sensitivity.

Together, Adam and Harry present not a romanticized loneliness, but rather a startling truth to its impact.

“‘Oh thanks, it happened a long time ago,’” Adam says to Harry about his parents’ death. “’I don’t think that really matters,’” Harry reassures.

Despite the characters’ hollow lives and their empty high-rise apartment complex, All of Us Strangers overflows with insurmountable feeling. Melancholia seeps from every aching line of dialogue, and the shadows of Adam’s past linger in frames of mirrors or train windows reflecting his 12-year-old self.

Always powerful but never emotionally manipulative, All of Us Strangers is the rare kind of story that leaves a permanent, haunting trace. A fitting result for a film about the lingering ability of grief.'

[cakejerry]

I need to hear more on why you dropped BTS before

Ok. Tl;dr desperation for american validation beginning in 2017

Pretty normal scope of events actually.

1. Fucking hated spring day when it dropped, snoozer ballad, liked not today better. It doing so well on the charts only made me angrier. I had preordered both versions of the album and it turned out to only be a shitty repackage beating a dead horse (hyyh symbolism) into the ground. Stopped paying attention to their live shows as much but still kept up with the fandom.

2. Then boom they're being invited to billboard for a fake ass popularity stunt and everyone's acting like it's such a big deal. Bitch what the fuck is billboard? I genuinely dgaf. American validation desperation starts. I keep up with their releases even less. They're being cringe as fuck selling out to america and bringing in idiots to the fandom. I start hating the way namjoon is acting, as I look back on those days now he's trying WAY too hard with the aegyo and it's fucking annoying.

3. Bts outcast. I just... So cringe. So, so cringe. And everyone was acting so... Idk. People tweeting about jimin dying and laughing and making it blow up until there were actual billboard articles being written about it. Google it if you dont know what im talking about. Some of my tweets from the period:

4. Love yourself concept teasers drop. There's a bunch of random girls for no reason, giving all of them het plotlines in a story about friendship. Cringe. Someone tweets "dont sexualise their relationship with the girls don't disrespect them like that!" and someone replies "yoongis girl is going to eat his ass i can see it in her eyes" (very important to the narrative). I start feeling disconnected from jimin and start finding jungkook very attractive.

5. Dna teaser drops and im like ohhh this about to be good they're bringing retro back!! Turns out... They're going to be having the debut stage in america. I stay up with a friend all night watching it. Its exciting, but.... I don't care about america. I don't, i dont i dont. I truly dont. Oh yeah THE CHAINSMOKERS are on the album. I fucking hate collabs. I hate americans. But, whatever. The album is good. Like, really good. Serendipity is a jimin solo song, and I still love him despite my best interests. Best of me is good, pied paper is good, bojok is good, dna is GOOD... mic drop is fine, basic people are going to blow it up like they did with baepsae, but its okay. Im STANNING! But then the problems start arising.

6. Mic drop steve aoki. Need i say more. The lyrics... The sound... We get it, you're hardcore. You're embarrassed to promote colourful pop like dna. You're tough boys who misuse aave. Its so cringe. No one says anything about it. Great. The collab... WHO IS STEVE AOKI??? IDGAF!!!

6.5 deliberately leaving this one out just to check if anyone is still reading... The worst betrayal of my life *shiv gif*

7. And then... the american promotions. I stop paying attention completely. I start resenting everything. The way they look, the way they talk. Fans start making fun of a pic of jimin where it looks like he didnt cut his toenails. Rumors start circling that he got his chipped tooth fixed. I... Idk. It's the little things. I can't describe how awful the fandom space was, you just had to be there. The american influx was awful. Burn the stage drops. Another cash grab. People make fun of jungkook being sick. The love yourself concept feels hollow. I go back to wings and realize we have lost the plot.. hoseok is singing about his real life mother and people are creating theories about how it all relates back to the hyyh storyline. Jungkook is singing about how much he loves his hyungs and he didn't even write the words; rap monster did. I hate rap monster. Rap monster changes his name to RM- its less cringe to the americans that way. They change their logo- its minimalist now, to appeal to the americans. They're not the bulletproof boyscouts anymore. They're beyond the scene. Its hybe, not bighit. They're embarrased. They're changing themselves. They write all of their songs. (They really dont.) No but they do! We have to chart. (Inflate those numbers guys!) They're the only kpop group worthy of success. They paved the way! They write their own songs. We can tell! (Stream stream stream). Im completely removed. I only hear about them through 3rd hand sources. Bt21... Merch... Money.. sell... Buy... Book, movie, another repackage album, another movie, a game, another game, buy, sell, money.... I see the video of jimins voice breaking in fake love-- I laugh. Oh they made him show his abs for that comeback... Great. We only love him for his body, anyways. Oh, they're collabing with some random white bitch.... Okay.... Its called boy with luv?... But boy in luv will forever be MY baby. They're BIG now. People talk about them. They don't know them like I do. I don't know them like you do. Idol drops and I catch glimpses of it. Its.. too much. Its awful. Everyone calls it the worst song ever. Hearing snippets on the radio at the gym, im bound to agree. I hear nicki minaj's voice. Shout out to korea. Why is she here? What is going on. Why.. why are they doing this. This isnt bts. I hear dynamite on the radio in the grocery store- i only know its bts because of Jimin's disgusting awful dying cat voice. I post about it. Its funny. I love to hate. The song is shit. The song is being payolad onto the radio in my small ass country because bts fans are genuinely crazy. Steam. Inflate. Buy. Break records. Pave the way. NO multis, ONLY solo. Someone says borahae. I don't know what it means. A japanese group i like covers butter. I cant listen to more than 3 seconds of it- it sounds like shit. Its in english. Why is it all in english? The rhymes sound like a third grader wrote them. Is this what my.. my bts are releasing these days? Are they not embarrassed? They're decked out in gucci and lv.. it looks like shit. They look like shit. Theyre embarrassing themselves. Theyre everything they swore theyd never become. Theyre the people they made fun of. They neglect the korean audience. They stop promoting on music shows- its all special release this, single package that. But lets mass buy it. Lets show our love. Money. Money is love. Money will buy them leopard print and tacky sandals. Are they still the same bts i knew? No... No, they're not.

I remember a jhope fansite dying back in the day. I remember that I had never heard about her before, but I remember feeling devastated. I remember feeling connected to her. As I write this, I am praying that she is well. We all came together and shared our condolences. It wasn't an event- we didn't trend anything. But there was a feeling of remorse that day in the fandom. Of community. I remember huddling around the phone with my friend- I had just gotten a twitter notification from bts. They just finished a concert in their red bullet tour. They post a group photo. It gets 10k likes.

Now every time I listen to a bts song in public this flashes in my mind.

I hate bts.

[spw-art]

LEGALLY DISTINCT UNDER THE CUT

ROXXIE

His vampirism works like snake venom. He can bite someone and suck their blood, but he has to inject Vampire Venom(tm) through his hollow fangs to turn them.

Roxxie is shortest. He wears six inch platform boots to combat this.

Went by “Roxanne Vixen” during the 70’s. His real name isn’t that. It’s Vincent Price Dracula. No relation to Vincent Price or Dracula.

He and Zee have playful banter and rivalry going on. This sometimes escalates to injuries.

Roxxie is easy to transport during the day. They just have to shove him in a box and he’ll be just fine! His box is all decorated with glitter and rhinestones, as is his guitar case, so that he isn’t lost among all the other boxes and gear.

Legally Distinct can only do shows at night because of Roxxie. They have insane light shows to compensate.

ZEE

Zee’s werewolf transformation knows that the moon is visible during the day, and he has to plan accordingly the night before. It’s a full day’s worth of werewolf transformation, baby!

Went by Kitty Insane in the 70’s.

Lover of power ballads and long, long, long guitar solos.

If I were to ever draw Zee realistically, his faceclaim would be somewhere around David Lee Roth.

He has shedding season in the spring. It’s not fun for anyone.

Zee was never turned into a werewolf, he just woke up like that one morning.

GILLMAN

Gillman sounds like a stereotypical British cop. He’s American. The fish in the black lagoon just have British accents. He can’t help it that the fish sound British.

Went by Roger Gillman and wore a seaweed wig in the 70’s. Doesn’t actually have a first name, though. He’s just The Gillman because that’s what all gillmen are called.

Wishes he could play instruments that you need fingers for. He doesn’t have fingers that are dexterous enough.

Gillman has baby photos of himself as a larva. Nobody is sure how he got those. He’s not even sure while he got those. He’s wearing a microscopic trucker hat in each one.

EVE

Incredibly tall. Lives with Vic.

Does backup vocals on occasion.

Loves playing the NASTIEST bass imaginable. The nastier the better.

If Eve was to adopt a last name, it would either be Victory after his creator, or Ville because then his full name would sound like Evil.

Extremely punchy.

VIC

Blind and uses a white cane. Has a ton of colors of dark glasses. Eve helps him color coordinate his outfits.

Very fine with the fact that he screwed up and gave Eve a male brain. Totally metal of you to have boobs, Eve.

Very much stuck in the 70’s.

Has pasty yellowish skin similar to Victor Frankenstein. He’s not as much of a bitch as Victor Frankenstein though.

Even though he can no longer tell a wrong note from a right one, Vic is still quite passionate about music and is happy he can still be involved with Legally Distinct.

[libidomechanica]

“Loves unbounded on one on”

A ballad sequence

               I

Her clustere; twas possible, because     the old bards, friend that chariot, he, or some have gone     once drink, and show me the

key deftly in the basquina     and she suck’d in an except Juan had so much disturbances     of Kent. Where day on

its cool, quickly make it and speak     to his forced sweet girls long eulogy of Poetry     combustious thoughten those ears,

a masqued the grave, that speak for     on out the blest friend in form the frost. What word could feel now     that’s said, upon the moon.

Love’s unbounded on one on strong     with the youth of this dancers, so long, with gentle living     in t beyond her long;

for, let me say loud it. St. I     see she came with his foe to frown, had heed of the Earth, to     save, to clothing ended

died as a song external power     on his rider she glitter’d in his transfigured     flame myself laid downe, is

gone: in vain, since eyes of Troilus     and fertile, a medicine in one’s foul face imperfect     love must feels: heroes, kiss

brings which through his way, he saw in     all wet, could not struct those what thou hadst thou bee assott: for     the prescience, after

Colins Embleme. Forefingers, ashes     into the God of Clay, tracing the dead. Set, and beauteous     lives. Light shall noble

manhood, so drench’d it quickly. The     good, and beads and the ship afloat. Us leaf and fall drown’d     me round her letter and

man: she camel’s bell, yet knowing     ball in its lines and true in several weeks before mine     has a library fine,

to lose, or islands, and he now     lay a part from the head, and thy base, now astonish’d, the     day the bank of shoes answer

as the white with leave exceedingly,—     some small who did the faint and died entangle me     when you mother hair; some

swarms o’ lovely—till taught aske I,     but it seems unkind, a little darlin’ darling eye, the     faded man, with morning.

               II

Brow, all the neighborhoods. Getting     sent, they could feel rapturous versations, but she stoop to     blaze, each suffering downe thy

sweet, to leave thee I cast no betters     her two sons, of finger for a shepherd’s white peace remain’d,     loseth him throwing;

when shall have leaves. After than is     only missing too much ingress this? Between the Follow,     and gained surprise—fling

harmony do call that, here is music.     Than before be fed? Yet shew it, sought so sweet is it     to the nor souls could, I

liue in Sommer praised her beauty     morning; my beauty of dames: by a rivers could not rate     the high fantastic wits?

               III

I lagged rynde, and all the proof of     all thought footsteps murmur made that we’re strike thy reasons why     sytten with the scientific

animal past to help     from knee, not a thousand, that after Colin cloister’d this     is my object to quit

in these ill. Her head, eyelids, whose     from whereof doth for how: but soon it over made the all-     weary of the for once.

               IV

Love a woman ‘tis never grants.     And rotten him in their sweet, then I do, Alpheus? And thereon     with his smaller Cyclades

a very trees. Such better     of the chaunce to lick a human hollow halls, whiles height of     help them about the skies

just to see all but mend there all     thy hand fettered crime, can firmly set herself; and for the     fierce ane has whether feet

yet no less—so love her lie I     kisses: the told the awkward yawns. ’Ve been a little     forth. His braide, my thrice in

lowly twinges of human love,     with laughter: fail your bosom it through a difference between     whiles rejected, had got

off your beam ends. Sheds itself no     further will be lost. Till description that lure high degree     that the poets of which

them again uncertain ways: through     this cursing, all foxgloves to traveller, in fatal     to thrust, is—Love, abiding

up through fainting birth, or with     him, and from a thrill beat Praise greyhounds like a wild and spake     my fathers at the appal.

And so that in woman: you     could he put his grasps; and, all these this of instruments of     my dream, a dream, tearing

those Lockes down sweetest night griefes     the first sweetness of each rising him, entire, except     sounding no place? Nor

light, as real is but even the     universal as thoughts and airy flowers when he was     once ever did’st me broke,

at last and the fading felt the     wool of barley and point can no more pallid aspect     delicate sparkles of smaller

size; but soul are weight before     my sweet.—I hate in a man, I scorn that it’s jet, jet black,     but my amiss of these

thing then buried path, a broadcast     overpowers to help them about then marketh, trust that     wear the reaping as soon

was for two’s an awkward care not     say; But what necessary to deceives her soft voiceless     with the peepers as

dues of life with a bath, and listen’d,     and children sticks fast thy presence strict to underness     each rising gale, as mounted

in my cheek. Was contempt; which     he lets his tree. It might see the deep groan moanings—through right     hues and slept; when frame? In

height, with Pearl, her viewless show; so     childlike it and now at his want of forest not mine ear     that gallon cask or sombre

whose people who love, in prison’d     all he lay, whether their size; but when thousand found and     But never had an earth.

               V

Leading better, the lifts up his hollow shows, the     vulgar mass called but the law would be. Spite of hot desire spurn’d to exprest: and often     found in the wretch the past alone.

               VI

Himself in the boat, he wylfully     the softly pikes, this reversed, and angers could wish myself,     ’ thus much he camp and plays Tipperary to my iust     cries, oft wonderful rout

of any pass by the sweet breath,     I would rulen ouerwent with the coverlids golden sun     from the weave the tended red sun smiles apart, I could not     so fared scarcely them did

stands on his old, and heat, and thy     plight comes easy. When she could grow. And long the citied of     wine; and turn and smile recures heap’d, the heavenly moist     cabinet, to the silver

bough our berth a lazy tolerably     brink, thou art—not the story of rest. With another,     like legion’d with a tear, whose holier mystery     captivate the quarry;

but thou mak’st there similar removed     to margin sallows gathering Sion: i’d weep,—but     their tool. Of the treble, and faire: so wasted, art made a     morning off like a clam.

               VII

Lay on whom the sad like others     reap it become and thy false dart of conquering, and nuptial     thief! Rhymes may swim into a lyre, to feede, or wait dearest,     do anything ensuing? Her scheme; the efforts me:     a brutes; ’—and they happy,

happy sighs aloud how they     smiles of which troubled, make counts up his bedchamber. Courtesy     thy hounds breathes; the kernel of sentime great land make an     Eden of a gun, getting swimmer in amaze the end,     but mute in heavenly

eyes: but thou never serpent—Ha,     they might her eyes, then Nature’s bright! Where than if thou from     its praise be of his hair- shirt, and keep his faded, apt at     last, is he took to the touch of tender sprung up, chequer,     no; my heart is all my

darte, and with bloud spring upon     there fear; it sets upon his colowres: bring Loue to love,     till the boar with my tongues, and in elements: hither work     of fruits, and heart committed to tears, a material     tent a stone ideal. With

deep-sweet voice aloud: fair immortal     youth of being, and set thee; saw the wolf doth protege     and curls were sermons, and not shunned things, though but keep court-     favour at her! I dream and robbed us on the blindness;     leaving, like melody,

in which descries, let go, and storms,     and nothing airily; with treasures might empty arms, here     is only wake up into thee. Fancies, patient trowsers—     went to see they. She vail’d up for how its bent line, no     stateliest, forgive me from

head upon the nick of maiden     from thee, close overawed by natural, and sang with Psyche     tenderneath and she like an Evil Clouds consumers     on your Prince; you can not always back the lands by my true     news, soft flank; whose leave the

night such a Bellibone, shrinks that     for light, and those waxing Will Existence, said to inform     him who had an air shadow of noble motion I would     be that is so much, to other answers his was dash’d the     impair, hover’d Dian.

               VIII

And Pan thou wast bignes not abasht:     whilome wouldst not fear lurk in mine, lass, in clear. Of their     will bred with claim till. No,

by Honour turns often told, the     other flaws may weed live it. Their lives its strew’d upon that     Earth all their reflection

all her will when, that a man     anymore, that crowded youth, when sudden within can show how     vertues green dried magic

interested? Heard a minute.     And false, and worse vnto my ain dear you all who look up and     pretty captain ways beside

arose and lifting of me!     And foremost—sunk, yet prevailing, scrambling crowns to all unfold,     coin’d the water, they

bene myne eyes the wolf doth urge     released from fifty thereby; leave my veins looks went land anon,     the deep, but for mine

for most unfashioning your name.     From men I bow’d their heart, wholly scowl is soft as the soldiers,     or necke beneath was

dour and understand upon a     kindling superstition’s safe conduct through she finesse mountain’d,     each life and sit down,

downcast lose to animals are     silent last, did fall; ye glow-woodland Queene. On Cupid, be     shut his wound some hock and

leaves in the bins, committed the     Perfect. Do not a lump of loue, that celestial. And world     is weary car, up went

eking her lily star, that Maud’s     darken’d watch him in his embrace of what I writhing him,     the imp beleaguer’d with

lustful languor leapt: helpless, and     the moon is but distress’d and Aristotle by waning,     anything hands in blackening

spoke command, a desire;     she feather’d like to me: we fear we share the sun, and to     try its wide as it grew

the bowers to recognition     of thy forehead be a devil, for all other—all was     it elastic roar. Such

a mother’s dwell as goteheards     look’d and nostril, dark heart. And not knowing fantastic rounder     tongue at speaks, and waitedst

age took a lesson in the     desert wild. She turning to question, to be a bold knight     may her days, and let us

lively joy. ’ Wild, unequal,     now reconcil’d they made her arms and many scorning jets     black chaos: and high, which

mortal age behold ways, she mead.     Unless in an anthem smile often he lovelier     inflation and by any.

               IX

Yet, for a tansy let us     type the same legend—’if you pleasant valleys; and likewise,     and walked down, and ten throe the yellow woods were be not when     everybody on the

sunlight bring his faded man with     his victorian knowledge him. For where none know, immers     pryde at last century. Beat upwards to bed. Still, and biting     lantern, through not gain’d.

               X

Like a vipers of the fragrant     flowers; but now until The Sage would strife, but by the west,     which that day it be dry, fold him from him; so, bent o’er your     feet wildering in their mouth that I she seeth a huntress!     Suspect wore a better

than one and glad loved as such swelling     all nature’s some favour: here was all save one, that which     weight had labour towne the time. The woman’s coarse and had been     cast to play on the like a kind effort us whisper’d     light, minstrelsy. Those crimson’d

in a pause, that o’er there waning     in the starres the could scarlet cloak, like creation,     like to slake Thy thirst wit I e’er can be well. To say: back     to them again with the struggling throbbing of my dreams is     frend is not so many-

tower’d horse alarms infold his     slumbers after love destroy: but shall outwent. With this     colowres, and subtle skin we’re not say that mover once, where     nowhere has it weep that means serious in marriage of     oaths and maker of thee

to played to her lovers being     look’d like to all unchaste kisses buys there, which then blooms that     has the last was a sort of darkness maidenhood. And call’d     men. Take rest into towers bright that’s purpose, firm thou will     take a corpse, from the honey

pass’d, and he arrow burning     pebbly margin sallowed from a golden change; for me.     But mend thy courage; for sink no moment climbs hanging in     despised, rheumatic, and be seen too oft unjust, on him     before and dell, sick, or

a common soldier-city, small     is inside, we plant a son that rose medlest a warrant     them both the Firmament. Made me forrit, hoping them about     hers, to dream there lyeth thy Gotes: the little broke, he     would lose attains so much

bending love! A beggar, who please     nomore, in shambles, viewers bereft me go, let him into     please me, ah lette me if I’ve said, were white, and Juan wept,     as the lived long years: before hart roll there is not Helen,     that I aspire; in the

bound, as thin. Dost the served that on     thy guide, until they rose sudden shield—shocked, like their speech out     as in my lordly sunflowers checkered with some, I must’ve     dreade of creature we them faint? ’Er then his Bosom with Thee     Annihilations to

this daily servants plain, he laid;     love’s alarms, he told, thirstiest at thy presents aim and be     lynched it, thou shalt finding son of thee as his speech were two     thing way down he fed; and hands from the honey Bee, worne of     youth seem’d almost close

overawed. Sleep as it, sdeath! Of     trumpet peaceful, on the Red Sea—but the ground shall not     Melampode: for from thee; these ill-changes of discontent, for     love; not the moisture, but burn: o! And, in fact, she found my     right had fix’d on his beuie

of Love reigned tears fill’d the subjects     by hundred he had a weary as I do change, that it     is that doth dreadful might drowns up heaven, star and chaffe for     me, that bosom of pleasure laden bough once it was very     rising a prayers—

but never former false, how bragly     it raine, alive out great woe. Fold fury from a tent     whispering breast, who live ours, and ever weight, thought she shadows!     Then if unremember me when flowing. And I think     if this perhaps her grief

at there, when I forgetting in     you don’t like a new air, have problem with eyes light, Powers     among the coward, but here, breath, your desired. In love,     and their eyes and the brave Inez grieved forthwith cries, unlawful     notes indissection.

’ The sodger lad, thou’t love, gold, mought     to his hollow cygnet in its native of love did keep     the must wanes; when might hand witlesse contrived to reprove, he     has nothing makes coy excuse spun fast, why is youngling essence,     with this host thou didst

loues vnbridle glitter trembled on     the speak or moon bloody sword that sour to kindled in his     head of a great comes thine, from pain’d, like the tiger wove ours,     for stone; nor windy sight. Fly with a rolling spray, but to     lend her voice is post kept

time, and mazes, to warm effect:     wonder and have hemm’d with all to-night, his fairy-quick, was     not what a wretch looks the blast, that once; and tinctures. That it     puts all that arms; and I distilling charity breed, no     two madest me this black,

an’ it’s like tenne thou wilt be mute:     dismiss’d her legs’ since, why then I really, perceiving fevers,     made on strong Home of a fascinating run, yet music,     felt my veins stretches so—beloved hiss of the wind’s     lead: at leaden our life.

               XI

What my wont: who knows if halfe vnwilling     of the case, a heavy groan—who bids nor war’s deep-sweet     Death,—grim-grinning in the

lovd, or seene him to one sole lady     faire, is their horror, and smiles, herb, leaf, or bout her sweet     last night. Minute, and whereon

those end of S. And I love:     they fountains, louder common one side. That loues vnbridle     overcome but no display’d;

and love all things on the ground? Must     not a weedye crop-full bird? But the elementinel stars     of the weeps, and scarce-clad

limbs of flame mistaken, that in     the field, the furrow-cloven fallen tide of power these     cogitations tars were

better, told his pleasant musing     myrtle wall, and blew and their hands have fleecy Cloud rain Sorrows,     such hints of sons, of

zeal and we echo, faint and day,     and though unfit, her joints from limited the curious     similar connection,

and Heaven is thy fancied city     doth leade, apt emblem of men or pass me sweet influence     in their smile had night

was quickly fired them to     anticipate these saying: Youth! Am I to live you probably     broke in the possessed

of the cool, quickly told us     alone, the wasted, through buried in silent now, thou dost     abhor, condescend! Have

command, a train amang, who should     be, all the Welkin clear thou call excepting o’er while, may     seem, face, too, has died in

the bound, and with Zuhrah wrought be     cure, go call for naught: such taking up thou art a warm approche,     and with much harsh-sounding,

for on one and since you pale,     no doubt or spars, as I enter or Sommer burnt, and made     many master. Thy waste

orb shone to hurt or tall might bay,     sang a little smart did ache; but Haidee’s heads drawn on the     right, till she does have my

blood; some six thousand snebbe the lightning     flames, his veil’d eye for some knots, nor over Juan, who can!     Thou only know each was

her rolling hound. ’Tis he blew fresh     with debt: for wanted song, resolved to each lucid out-brave     among the grey: a whisper’d

steel? Now is t matter—     Adeline is but sorrows of youth, forehead. And wine, and     discovery others, until

they wane, so dearer for the mob     all our stations in the vines; then she at midnight I would     give a proudest sail was

heavy hands no longer fair, the     grew scarcity and bids the wanton ambling, he had such     a glass, in spite thy tears.

               XII

Then mighty Poets of joy into     belief, and mortal youth’s brightes, the blossom. Or, as     yet taught, injurious

sight cloth’d high it was as usual—     Juan, who smooth’d my tongue by turn, and three to pluck’st a flinty,     hard thinn’d their sap, how

broke, and truculent distraitly     cured to put the youth’s smooth and strives that clean. To the gracious     magnetic to opposited;

and withal, smooth as they     still endure, to mar this knee, nor be afraid. And flies in     evening amid this sister,

age, but their burst in bliss     Clarinda’s fonder, simplicity! And sing at they wait, ’ he     saw nothing a mother!

               XIII

Thou shalt thou could spaniel,—which this, at leaden appear     so fast bound, its effect of us die likes many days off o’ercrowded inwardly     morn; I earth’s increased her let it

a height. He note that prated shrieks, tis other arms     were touch of what care, are between the sleepless mortal boar’s condition, I shuddered, touched     not recall to whom your foot did saue

with voice, but now with her quick smaller size. Now, when     he dishes are not shunned their proper excellent, yet once first struck dead and must we eat.     Into the comes again uncertain’d

high, for the Arab woke her grim grow out, O fool!     Of heaven, blue and you were darts in circles spreads on my sheep-hearted thy father foreheads     did forbears: and I don’t tax em.

The daylight before the imagine thousand down     while the other poem written tried hues whether through their weary, a pale, pale continual     kiss my gift of musk and sweetness

of thine eyes glared up the pumps: a wrecks were the     gale: to run by daybreak to meet you. In the mortality of the Hand of the creature,     the poor and thy tears, bleed, and mazes

on ray, as years shine, this bitter the make a     wild war’s quick water, wreaths which some snow- light, the name there like gold about Shalott. I saw     him the Throne in anguish beyond my

incurr’d; she had not advantage slip; beauty covert     flower, when we met first of kissed my bane. Those trace in their darkens any mortal,     gaz’d on diest, unless it beside the

snatch’d the lightly pranced three times in. He turn’d to     share it costs us! Now my strewn flowing form, thus is my object will I feel the two-     celled her soul toward the papers cool, quickly

to importance the lucid out-brave among     which I your own law forlorne, my life’s stands and piercing learne thy beds on; their long-boat’s flesh     touch of cheualrie: but when he whetteth stranger

sorrow seemed forth no creatures? Which sight yclad     in pursue him clayme with claim from wife, so long a weak, I want of blood, and tall, while budde,     how herself; then, at this lethargy!

               XIV

Sister: now feet the bridals, cavil     not love; and make accoied, young captain ways: through threaten’d     just in the deeper grim

grow out, in fact, perhaps even     in his beams, pillow’s twitter, a good old custome to it.     Thing the absence of mischeife

the lours are little smart of     these valleys. The wet; water, and liued with many man who     when Old Love’s madness man!

               XV

Peeping of three years shower of     butter. Of murderous, bloomed or knots unfold, so that old     Greek—that in the strike not, nor move, unless you listening brave,     the Love upon years, a

material tilt of scruples,     that in my coy disdaine, thus to a summer day. Could     perceptibly askance he made in our Peeretree haunt of hope     to foot, frail, but comes a

cold more pale cheeke depeincten liuely     chameleon, thoughts he’d call, severely a notion     could not our dreadful smile and scorch with the famish’d as thou     iollye shepherd peres

somedele ybent to feel some     child is humankind beats here is comrade’s there, which missive     that quick footstep gleaming: and storm; and if short, the midnight     at her find it in the

lours so, that is an errors fronting     friendly sigh’d;—the next, and charme, and but like apollo’s     too, like of truth proves the pebbly margin, and gentle you     forgive me, measures mightst

though deepest at last death were born     of heavens. Where I had touch, near again came here upon     trust and by the maw of a thousand, like to me and always     find and wakened,

with every difference better pride     or part rouses that which be woods of sentime great disaster     one of Perfect and blewe. ’ Thus my soul from swell, which by     a race are pale corpse she

roses and cuckold live to herself,     her watching a mother kissing girl was decree she     lay, where they stony glance all-weary of reform a lesson     hard wave his blest, knight.

               XVI

Exceeds? I moved as a son. And     such things of state: you look up: be confounds. Was then of     flowery late hasts tonight.

               XVII

He gazed upon the vast parting     got vp a breakfast—and bells rang me, where a full of     somethinks his fire than to peruse; heaven: I have had, doubt     and thus the transfuse you will clip Elysium and cuckold     lives horatian fame;

in the same tunes her; and thinke I     think so, nor know, when no wight may be comforting glance was     better Forty Morning ghost, a gardens. Hear thee at all     one of things her animal loveliness of her teens,     as did embracement

backward daybreak. Few things form’d of     saucy boyhood: now, because of that may be company     prepare. For Venus, whom he once more;—nor be affrayd I     ranne. To flying in his could through as musical butcher’s     faded chest, from his blown

away, or don’t get these are trance     yet slumber-drunk all builds a Heaven—his Eyelashes of     treasures move: o no! With; and, relaxing, witching urgent     I have spoilt, perhaps she fillets fast the trees, where survey     the leave, weave, for those beauty

and Elizabeth speaks, and     so long had been told, with any pleasing; heau’n of my father     belly, but the temperished and forlorn, void of     Gold, dangle her teens, and at the sole and trembling of the     dark, dark and seek the tenting

birds to teach others—it favour’d     on a strong with thy selfe begets. Lady, you pleasant     music, whose hope will to displayes, o how frank, how could glide     to week: much English beer, good olde shepheardes being seas:     the difference beheld between

us—it favorite pop song     the called, the doorway, dark, darkened fields about her with madden’d     so this white wraith half its gulf a former chronic angers     would scarcity and bear the deathsong, shoulder, and her     faces in sad eies I

distillitory of thy dark-     dawning you need to marry yet; I’m o’er it been my living     freighted with their company, and benign, our glorious     appear’d to aswage the signe of this thoughts be truths wouldest     men: some thy blue orbs.

               XVIII

Let us have not—to make her     airy goal, haply lies bleach to remember, I, when dread     grew distincts. Now stands by

her side the kids had dark, weary     side, we enter. Fair queen, it was a justice, it open’d,     the sophistrie, that some prest

and frost, my little floor. Like an     opiate, slumber; which would scarcely lightly progeny,     as if this proud a back.

               XIX

Though so few—nine in the boar. Scarce through a thousand     tide roll’d of death. Get, that smile had been driven from the sweet the heard, a gazelle-eyed fish.     I sate next day were the dull substances

as this sleeping Muse, now at erst it is bright     retiring sunny as he not my flowrd my impassing thine: ere loth, she stings—some would     take this, dear to suit, who long her heels.