#Who cares... Throws myself into a pit /silly

[doostyaudi]

Emm.. They're on a date... For the first time....

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Tabs give me superpowers

Berliners: Otherland has added a second date (Jan 28) for my book-talk after the first one sold out - book now!

"Lifehacking" is in pretty bad odor these days, and with good reason: a once-useful catch-all for describing how to make things easier has become a pit of productivity porn, grifter hustling, and anodyne advice wreathed in superlatives and transformed into SEO-compliant listicles.

But I was there when lifehacking was born, and I'm here to tell you, it wasn't always thus. Lifehacking attained liftoff exactly 19 years and 348 days ago, on Feb 11, 2004, when Danny O'Brien presented "Life Hacks: Tech Secrets of Overprolific Alpha Geeks" at the 0'Reilly Emerging Technology Conference (aka ETCON). I was there, and I took notes:

https://craphound.com/lifehacksetcon04.txt

O'Brien's inspiration was his social circle, in which people he knew to be no smarter or better or motivated than anyone else in that group were somehow able to do much more than their peers, in some specific domain. O'Brien delved deeply into these peoples' lives and discovered that each of them had merely ("merely!") gotten very good at using one or two tools to automate things that would otherwise take up a lot of their time.

These "hacks" freed up their practitioners to focus on things that mattered more to them. They accomplished the goal set out in David Allen's Getting Things Done: to make a conscious choice about which things you are going to fail to do today, rather than defaulting to doing the things that are easy and trivial, at the expense of the things that matter, but are more complicated:

https://gettingthingsdone.com/what-is-gtd/

One trait all those lifehacks shared: everyone who created a little hack was faintly embarrassed by it, and assumed that others who learned about their tricks would find them trivial or foolish. O'Brien changed the world by showing that other people were, in fact, delighted and excited to learn about their peers' cool little tricks.

(Unfortunately, this eventually opened the floodgates of overheated posts about some miraculous hack that turned out to indeed be silly and trivial or even actively bad, but that wasn't O'Brien's fault!)

I'm one of those people whom others perceive as very "productive." There are some objective metrics on which this is true: I wrote nine books during lockdown, for example. Like the lifehackers O'Brien documented in 2004, I have lots of little hacks that aren't merely a way of getting more done – they're a way to make sure that I get the stuff that matters to me (taking care of my family and my health, and writing books) done.

A lot of these lifehacks boil down to making your life easier. There's a spot on our kitchen counter where I put e-waste. Whenever I go out to the car, I carry any e-waste out and put it in a bag in the trunk. Any time I'm near our city dump, I stop and throw the bag into their e-waste bin. This is now a habit, and habits are things you get for free: I spend zero time thinking about e-waste, which means I have more time to think about things that matter (and our e-waste still ends up in the right place).

There's other ways I use habits to make my life easier: after many years, I learned how to write every day:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/22/walking-the-plank/

For longer-form works like novels, I "leave myself a rough edge," finishing the day's work in the middle of a sentence. That way I get a few words for free the next day, meaning I never start the day's work wondering which words I'll type:

https://locusmag.com/2014/01/cory-doctorow-cheap-writing-tricks/

One of the most powerful habits I've cultivated is to have a group of daily tabs that I open in a new browser every morning. The meat of this tab group is websites I want to check in with every day, either because they don't have RSS feeds, or because I want to make sure I never miss an update.

This tab-group habit started before RSS was widespread, when most of the websites I wanted to check in on every day didn't have feeds yet, and for many years, this group was just a set of daily reads. But over the years, I started throwing things in the tab-group that I needed to stay on top of.

My daily tabs are in a folder called "unfucked rota" (they were originally in a folder called "rota," which got corrupted and had to be reconstructed in a folder I called "fucked rota," until I finally took a couple hours off and got it in good running order, hence "unfucked rota"). As I type this, "unfucked rota" contains more than a hundred websites I visit every morning, but it also contains:

The edit-history pages for four Wikipedia entries I'm watching;

Chronological feeds of my books on Amazon and Audible, to catch counterfeits as they are posted;

The parent notification portal for my kid's school;

The mileage history for the airline I flew on yesterday (I'll delete this once the flight is posted);

The credit card history for a card I reported a fraudulent charge on (I'll delete this once the refund is posted);

The sell-pages for three products that are out of stock (I'll delete these once the products are in stock and ordered);

A bookmarked newest-first Ebay search for a shirt I like that has been discontinued by the manufacturer;

The new-survey-completed pages for my last two Kickstarters;

The courier tracking page for an item being shipped sea-freight to me from Asia.

The tail end of this unfucked rota changes all the time, but as you can tell, it's got a lot of stuff that would be time-consuming to build a whole new system to track, but which has a web-page that can be easily added to a daily, habitual check-in and then removed when it's not relevant anymore.

Some of these things have email notifiers or RSS feeds, but those are too easy to lose in the noise. I generally delete email from ecommerce sites unread, since 99.99% of the messages they send me are unsolicited marketing nonsense, not the "notify me when this is back in stock" message I do want to see (same goes for my kid's school, which sends me fifty unimportant messages for every message that I must reply to).

Most of the internet is still on the web, which means it can be bookmarked, which means that it takes me one second to add it to the group of things I'm staying on top of, and one second to remove from that group. I get up in the morning, middle-click the "unfucked rota" item in my bookmarks pane, make a cup of coffee, and then sit down and race through those tabs, close-close-close.

It takes less than a second to scan a tab to see if it's changed (and if I close a tab too quickly, the ctrl-shift-T "unclose" shortcut is there in muscle-memory, another habit). The whole process takes between one and 15 minutes (depending on whether there's anything useful and new in one of those tabs).

Tabs, like lifehacks, are also in bad odor. Everyone stresses about how many tabs they have open. It's even inspired Rusty Foster's excellent newsletter, Today In Tabs:

https://www.todayintabs.com/

But this is a very different way to think about tabs. Rather than opening a window full of tabs that need your detailed, once-off attention later, this method is about using groups of tabs so that you can pay cursory, frequent attention to them.

In a world full of administrative burdens, where firms and institutions play the "sure, we'll do that, but you're going to have to track our progress" game to get out of living up to their obligations, this method is a powerful countermeasure:

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/02/02/david-graebers-the-utopia-of-rules-on-technology-stupidity-and-the-secret-joys-of-bureaucracy/

My little tab habit is so incredibly useful, such a powerful way to seize back time and power from powerful actors who impose burdens on me, that I sometimes forget how, for other people, tabs are a symptom of a life that's spiraling out of control. For me, a couple hundred tabs are a symbol of a couple hundred tasks that I'm totally on top of, a symbol of control wrestled back from others who are hostile to my interests.

This isn't how tabs were "meant" to be used, of course. It's an example of the kind of "innovation" that comes from users repurposing things in ways their designers didn't necessarily anticipate or intend.

This is what Jonathan Zittrain meant by "generative" technology back in 2008, when he published his incredibly prescient The Future of the Internet: And How To Stop It:

https://memex.craphound.com/2008/07/22/zittrains-the-future-of-the-internet-how-to-save-the-internet-from-the-internet/

For Zittrain, "generativity" was the property of some technologies that let its users generate new, useful tools and solutions for themselves (this is very different from "generative AI!")

Zittrain described how "curated" computing systems, like mobile devices that relied on apps that couldn't be adapted by their users, were dead ends for generativity. 15 years later, the dismal world of apps has proven him right:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/24/everything-not-mandatory/#is-prohibited

To the extent that "lifehacking" is about doing more, rather than being more deliberate about what you accomplish, it can be harmful. I am not immune to the failure modes of lifehacking:

https://locusmag.com/2017/11/cory-doctorow-how-to-do-everything-lifehacking-considered-harmful/

But overall, using tabs as something I close, rather than something I open, is a source of comfort and calm for me. For one thing, ripping through a group of tabs every morning means that I don't have to worry about missing something if I go too fast. I'll get another chance tomorrow:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/27/probably/

Decades ago, Dori Smith dubbed her pioneering blog her "#Backup Brain":

https://web.archive.org/web/20020120231027/http://www.backupbrain.com/

At their best, our systems – be they physical, like a spot on the counter where the e-waste goes, or digital, like a tab-group – are "congitive prostheses." They allow us to move important things from the highly contested, busy and precious space between our ears and out there into the world:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

Like those lifehackers that O'Brien studied for his presentation in 2004, I confess to feeling a little silly about telling you all about this. For me, this habit of decades is so ingrained that it feels trivial and obvious. And yet, when I look at people in my life struggling to stay on top of a million nagging administrative tasks that could be easily watched through a morning's flick through a tab-group, I can't help but think that maybe some of you will find a useful idea or two in my unfucked rota.

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/25/today-in-tabs/#unfucked-rota

[what-have-i-unleashed]

You hate me? You hate poor little Silly anon? You remove my rq from yyou inbox :( (very much /j of course) Lucky I have the tumblr outbox extension hehehehehehe (i mean i remembered anyways but still :3 ) This was what I sent: "If you're uhhh still taking the MTT flash-fic RQs. May I ask 14 + Cry (or tears)? No pressure of course :3"

i'm so sorry silly anon for deleting your asks waaaaaaaaaaa

please accept this as my apology..........

14. w.d.y.w.f.m? - the neighborhood

Maybe you're right, maybe this is all that I can be But what if it's you, and it wasn't me? What do you want from me? What do you want from me?

aaaaaand i'm gonna add another song, just because this delicious prompt reminds me of its existence too >:3

cry for me (english ver.) - twice

I want you to cry, cry for me The way I cried for you, baby, cry for me Make your rain fall, cry for me But again Somehow you keep me goin' round and round All the walls I built around me come crashin' down Makin' excuses, gotta drown 'em out I want you to, I want you to, I want you to die for me

PROMPT: CRY

⚠️ so just a warning: this thing is heavy, okay? like, i think even heavier than the horrordust one i did before, so mind the tags here ⚠️

(cw: toxic relationship, implied self-harm, verbal abuse, probably ooc - they're all assholes in here)

the door slams open, the sound reverberating through the apartment like a gunshot. murder stumbles in, face flushed purple, a stagger in his walk. he smells of booze and fire. his jacket is torn, some parts charred. and yet, there’s a manic look on his face when he stares into the eyes of horror and killer, who are rushing to the hallway to see what the commotion is about.

“what the-” horror says, his voice sharp, his eyes narrowed. “murder, what the hell did you do now?”

murder lets out a sharp, humorless laugh, throwing his jacket on the floor with more force than necessary. “what the hell did i do?” he echoes, his tone wild and shaky. “i survived, horror. barely. isn’t that what you wanted?” his gaze darts from horror to killer, who leans against the wall all nonchalant. “for me to barely keep living while you both stand there and watch the show?”

killer looks murder up and down, his mouth curved downwards. “you’re drunk,” he says flatly. “and stupid, apparently.”

“yeah? and you’re an unfeeling statue,” murder snaps, his voice rising as he points a finger at killer. “you always sit there on the sidelines, watching, like none of this matters. like i don’t matter.”

horror steps forward, placing himself between them. turning to murder, he says, “ok, you need to calm down. you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“oh, i already tried that.” murder’s words come out bitterly, his lips curling into a manic grin. “almost drove myself off the cliff. you should’ve seen it – it was spectacular.”

horror scowls. “that’s not funny, murder.”

“what? so making jokes about killing others is fine, but you draw the line at my attempt to off myself?” murder spits, his bi-colored eyes blazing and wild. “maybe i should do this more if this is the only way to make you care!”

“we do care!” horror says quickly, the words coming too fast. “i care, okay? you don’t have to throw that in my face every time something goes wrong.”

murder laughs, a sharp and broken sound. “that’s rich coming from you. you’re so good at tearing me apart with your words, but the second i need you to actually be there, you disappear.”

“what?” horror clenches his fists, his soft tone swiftly gone. “why do think that’s the case, huh? i can barely breathe around you without you demanding more, like i’m some kind of bottomless pit.”

“because you never give me anything!” murder screams, leaning into horror’s space, his chest heaving. his eyes brim with tears of frustration. “i am drowning, horror! i am bleeding out for you, and all you give me is venom instead of a cure! what the hell do you even want from me?!”

“i want you to stop acting like you’re the only hurt one here!” horror’s voice booms in the cramp space. for a moment, the apartment feels like it might collapse under the weight of their shouting. “you think it’s easy for me?! to care about someone like you?! someone who’s all or nothing, who’s willing to break your own arm just to make a point?!”

“i wouldn’t have to hurt myself if you’d meet me halfway!” murder shouts back, his voice cracking. “i’d die for you, sans. for both of you. and all i get is this- this emptiness!”

horror flinches, his jaw tightening as his glare softens for just a moment. he looks away from murder’s fiery gaze. “i’ve never asked you to kill yourself for us. but,” he squints at murder’s slightly smaller form, “you don’t know how to do anything else, do you?”

killer sighs, finally stepping forward. “maybe if you both stopped shouting long enough to say what you need, this wouldn’t be a disaster.”

murder whirls on him in an instant, laughing bitterly. “oh, great. killer, the voice of reason. except, you never do a damn thing to help!”

“i’m not the one constantly crashing out and sleeping around just because i can’t handle my emotions,” killer replies coolly, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“angel, you’re both impossible!” murder screams, his hands holding his skull as if he wants to break it apart. “do you even want this?! do you even care – either of you?!”

horror hesitates, his mouth opening and closing like he wants to say something but unable to. killer, as always, is the first to answer.

“i care enough to stay,” killer says, his tone even and detached. “that’s more than you give me credit for.”

“that’s not enough!” murder screams, tears spilled over. he shrinks into himself, his body trembling with the force of his sobs. “i can’t be the only one who feels this! i can’t be the only one who cries, who loves, who bleeds in this forsaken relationship!”

horror steps forward hesitantly, his hand twitching but not daring to touch the vibrating ball that is murder. “sans…” he starts, his voice softening. “i… i don’t know how to fix this.”

“then why are we even doing this?” murder whispers, his voice full of anguish and desperation. he looks up at both of them with his tear-streaked face. “why do i even love you when it’s killing me?”

neither of them answers. the silence blankets all of them, heavy and suffocating.

after a while, murder wipes at his face, breaking the fragile quiet. “it doesn’t matter, does it…? this is all i deserve. all i’ll ever have, like you said.” he laughs, a manic sound. “stars, i just wish…” he hiccups, as another sob threatens to tear through his vocal cords again. “i just wish you’d cry for me. just once. just like i do for you.”

horror looks away, gritting his teeth, while killer stares down at murder, face unreadable. and murder realizes, with a sinking feeling in his nonexistent stomach, that they never will.

[thetavolution]

I RECONFIGURED INGRID AS A DEEP GNOME. I feel so silly I didn't realize it before. She'd 100% be a deep gnome. Laura will just tower over her and Minty.

Full name:  Ingrid Ellen Sullenberger Name meaning:  Ingrid: beloved or beautiful; Ellen: sun ray or shining light; Sullenberger: habitation name for people from Sollenberg or Schallenberg Pronouns:  She/Her  Race: Deep Gnome Age: 28  Orientation: Pansexual Romance: Halsin Class: Druid Subclass: Circle of the Spores Origin: Sage  Theme Song: Why Am I Like This? — Orla Gartland / To My Parents — Anna Clendening / Overthink — Addison Grace / Hate Myself — Dodie

Personality Ingrid is soft-spoken and timid. She can be shy, but once she feels comfortable, she loves to talk! People are surprised at how at ease she feels with the dead and the spores, but it makes perfect sense when you get to know her. She respects all aspects of nature, including death and decay. Oddly, it’s become a way for her to confront her own fear of death.

She’s a pushover and she lacks assertiveness. Or, at least, that’s who she was before she became a leader of a ragtag team of certified weirdos. She had to get it together and take care of them. Her bravery comes from how terrified she is. If she didn’t have other people to take care of, she’d probably curl up in a corner and cry. When other people are relying on her, she quickly musters up every ounce of courage she has and powers through her terror.

She always comes through in a clutch. Even when scared out her mind, she’ll never abandon anyone. She’ll just go have a panic attack after it’s safe. She has an incredibly kind heart and strong sense of empathy. 

During the entire adventure, she does a good job tricking everyone into thinking she's fearless. In reality, she just doesn't let herself stop to think long enough to cower like she wants to.

Background Ingrid was born in the Underdark in a small deep gnome settlement. She comes from a divided home. Her father, Sully, left her mother, Greta, when Ingrid was young. Sully would then marry Anna, a forest gnome, who resented living in the Underdark. Anna also hated Greta with a passion. She was terrified that Greta would "steal" Sully back from her.

It cause a lot of heartache and jealousy among the adults. Ingrid and her younger brother, Sebastian, were often pitted against each other. Anna would take her anger out on Ingrid since she was a timid child. Ingrid would eventually stop trying to spend time with her father to avoid Anna altogether. Sully never made an effort to reach out.

Ingrid felt suffocated by the isolated nature of her village. It didn't help that the Underdark can be cold and unforgiving. She decided to head for the surface and move to Baldur's Gate.

Ingrid found a way to make a living for herself by offering tattooing services. It’s something she practice from a young age and she made a decent living off of it in the city.

She would meet Minty when she first arrived in the city, but she wouldn’t meet Laura until a few years later. Ingrid had settled into a routine in Baldur’s Gate, not entirely sure she was happy with it.

The universe would throw a wrench in the works when she was abducted and given a tadpole.

Likes: Tattoos, tattoo artistry, drawing, scary stories, romance stores, cute outfits and accessories, spiders, sweets, animals, autumn, the beach, forests, and winter

Dislikes: Disrespecting the occult or nature, standing up for herself, baking, sand (it gets everywhere), bitter foods, and how deep gnomes are treated/regarded

Fears: She’s terrified of dying and getting older. It consumes her thoughts often. She fears one day she’ll be old and alone, and left to die a lonely death. Keeping her spore zombies and skeletons close helps her feel better as strange as it may sound. She’s afraid of being “thrown away” by those she loves at any moment.

She's also scared of becoming like her mother, a complete pushover who is too afraid to live her own life.

Quirks:  She struggles to speak up and it’s hard to hear her at times. People misunderstand her a lot due to the fact her voice doesn’t always carry very well. Her eye twitches when she's anxious or hasn't gotten enough rest.

Mental Health:  She has anxiety and depression. She is preoccupied with her fears of death and aging beyond what is reasonable. She’s terrified she has no value for the people around her and could be discarded at any moment. Her depression can make her listless sometimes. If she doesn’t have a job to do or someone to help, she’ll struggle to get up to do anything for herself.

Favorite Foods: Strawberries, Potato Soup, Pasta, Mushrooms, and Honey Cake

Favorite Drinks: Chili Chai

Favorite Flower: Camellia of the Black Lady

Height:  3'6”/ 106.68 cm 

Skin: Grey-Blue (Ice Tone 2)

Hair:  Dark Blue (Blue 5)

Eyes:  Blue (Blue 2)

Color Scheme:  She loves wearing blacks, browns, and greens. 

Fashion Sense: She straddles two worlds. She loves to be in nature with clothing to match, but she also loves to wear cute outfits made by merchants Baldur’s Gate or Neverwinter.

She’s not as free with nudity as Halsin is. She can handle other people’s nudity. She’s just self-conscious about her own.

She has a lot of tattoos that are only visible when she wears more revealing clothing.

Family: 

Calvin “Sully” Sullenberger Sully is the head of the household. He secretly likes having Anna and Greta fight over him, ignoring the damage it has done to his children. He’s friendly and boisterous, but selfish.

Greta Sullenberger She’s Ingrid’s mother. She’s a lot like Ingrid, but even more docile than her daughter. She doesn’t stand up to Sully or Anna as often as she should. Ingrid fears she may be too much like her mother.

Anna Sullenberger She's Sully's second wife who terrorizes Greta and Ingrid. As horrible as she is to everyone, she's convinced she's the real victim in all of this. She's needy and loves being the center of attention.

Sebastian Sullenberger He’s Anna’s son. He is the apple of her eye and he hates it. He actually likes Ingrid and he wants a healthy relationship with her, but his mother makes it near impossible. He also left home early to avoid dealing with his parents’ drama. He’s off being an adventurer in Faerûn. Ingrid hasn't seen him in years. He looks like a forest gnome and most people would never guess that he's Ingrid's brother.

[crossovernonshipstournament]

All right so I'm going to get the groupings done today and hopefully have the matchups posted by today or tomorrow, but before I get started on that I thought I'd take a second to lay out the etiquette I'm expecting (and what behavior I will be banning) from this poll.

So, unlike the Artificial Kids Poll, which leaned into the "we're taking the kids out for ice cream later" vibe, I'm not gonna come down super hard on trash talk in this one. But that doesn't mean that anything goes! Here's some ideas of what will and will not fly.

Things that are fine:

-Comically exaggerated threats. (Ie, "If my fave doesn't win I'm blowing up the moon!" This is absurd. You're being silly. This is Saturday morning cartoon villain levels of overreaction. I'm fine with this.)

-Playground levels of trash talk. (Ie, "I can't believe they crossed over Camp Camp and Bob's Burgers. Look, see? Little King Trash Mouth." Look, you wanna throw shade at the characters, go for it. They can take it. This is okay too.)

-Incentivizing people to vote against an entry. (Ie, "If this entry wins I'll never watch this show you all keep telling me to watch/if they lose I'll definitely watch it." You wanna hold your own interests hostage to your followers do what you want. This is also fine.)

Things that are not fine:

-Insulting the canon properties or the people who enjoy them. (Ie, "Pitting this media property that I really like and find meaning in against this random who cares media property is an insult to my favorite media property." Any media property can have meaning to anyone, and sometimes the submissions came from people who were trying to fix a bad media so aren't even fans anyway and wouldn't appreciate the implication.)

(AND YES I WILL BE HOLDING MYSELF TO THIS AS WELL. There's RWBY characters in this poll and I am going to be sitting on my fucking hands not to insult RWBY's bad writing or take my usual potshots at how bad cRWBY are at their jobs. Like, for example, see that <- That kind of thing won't be tolerated.)

-Comments about the characters' appearance that can potentially reflect on real existing people who share that trait. (Ie, Felix is cartoonishly thin and explicitly drawn to look like a grimy little shit-weasel; remarks like that are fine, but "He's so ugly, look at his stupid white boy haircut and his complete lack of an ass," are traits that potentially someone reading could possibly have. We're only looking to trash the pretend people, we don't want collateral damage over here.)

-Should go without saying but anything that counts as real world hate-speech (racism, transphobia, anti-semitism, misogyny, ableism, etc, etc, etc- if it feels like you're using my silly tumblr poll as an excuse to be a bigoted piece of shit, I'm blocking you.)

-Anything that invalidates a character's likeability as a character. (This one is purely vibes but a good example is the person on Artificial Kids who kept tagging a poll with their fave against Boyd with how much they hated him. This wasn't trash talk; this was genuine insulting the character and by extension his fans just for the crime of being against their fave. If you're getting this het up about a silly tumblr poll, you probably need to take a step back from online activity. Take a walk around your block or bake some bread or take yourself out for lunch. Something to settle your feelings idk. Just step away and calm down it's not that big a deal.)

TL;DR: I am allowing friendly ribbing and trash talk, but keep it in good sportsmanship territory. Your shade should not extend beyond the pretend people you're throwing it at. Are we all clear? This is a silly tumblr poll, it doesn't need to get that serious.

[thevaudevilledemon]

Cartoon Rap Battles: Sub-Zero vs Mr. Freeze

Aye, still getting putting these out. I dunno, I just thought of some good lines for this and then wrote it. I also put a few obscure references so... I dunno.

Mr. Freeze:

I will leave you colder than your name And my heart of ice You need to plan carefully You can’t pull the same move twice

I got my Freeze Ray But I’m not Dr. Horrible Your complicated backstory Has proved not but ignorable

You weren’t even one Of the original kombatants Your brother was ripping out spines Then became a Noob, what happened?

I’ll send a chill over your body As I do all over Gotham If you want ice cold rhymes You know I’ve got them

This will be a better battle Than when our universes first crossed I’ll give you a colder shoulder Than you gave your gender-swap, Frost

I hope you have extra quarters Because Batman’s not here to force a friendship Anything you throw at me shall only make me stronger So make like your opponents and slip

Sub-Zero:

I do not have the time For this silly childishness I am a Lin-Kuei warrior So I shall quickly Finish This

You depend on that suit to survive If it breaks it leaves you gasping on the floor All these robotic enhancements And you will still get beaten, like Sektor

I am the reason that games Come with a content warning You were introduced when Comics left their readers snoring

You got kicked into chemicals Like I kick people into spikey pits So test your might against me I’ll unleash an unstoppable string of hits

You went from Shere Khan to Conan When Schumacher got hold of the bat hero And this time, I shall leave you Like your original name, just Plain Zero

You’re a comical antagonist Just a pulp abnormality I’ll wash my hands of your blood Leave you as another fatality

Mr. Freeze:

I don’t think I made myself clear You weren’t in Mortal Kombat one Everyone who knows the lore Will know that was actually Bi-Han

I’m disappointed Sub-Zero I expected something sharper than Kendo But you’re verses had less bloodlust Than those ports on Super Nintendo

Your verses would move me to tears If I still had tears to shed I’ll leave you like Sindel leaves a body With a ringing voice inside your head

My name is Victor Fries I’ll be taking home the Victory You destroyed your popularity When you came out with Mythologies

You struggle with your rhymes like kids Trying to get your special moves to work I was portrayed by some of the greats While you’re nobody’s business but John Turk’s

Sub-Zero:

You could never stand up to me I will pull a Sheeva and rip your skin off And if you actually cared about lore You would not mention that Mythologies spin-off

I can kick your ass anywhere From the Netherrealm to the Desert Sands Your wife liked to dance under the snow You just ripped off Edward Scissorhands

You got knocked flat on your ass By a thermos of Chicken soup And you are overshadowed by a Clown And a cat lady in your villain group

Ice puns and sad backstories Do not easily make me weary Stepping up to me Was an instant hara-kiri

[resmarted]

i'm constantly searching out different pockets of samsara to find where i belong to no avail. nothing feels right enough, nowhere feels safe enough, inadvertently starving myself of the love i require to move all these mountains without a net to fall back into or a hope to cling onto. and you know me, you know i'm always doing the thing where i spoil people with love only to wind up the giving tree, lonely is such the martyr in me, i know. lately i am blistered and numb, food is tasteless and the little joys have become fewer and farther between. i yearn to ignore the horrors within so i learn every little detail about people i'll never see again and wonder about them in moments well past their casual departures. i find the intimate details in those closest to me even for moments, wonder aloud about their lives and count the freckles on their nose, and these have become my more delightful bits of time passing. i struggle with the notion of having no real use or place and then feeling despised any time i do make headway on potentially finding any little version of it. i don't want to feel alone so i put myself in situations with people where i only alienate and isolate deeper than had i never left my little hiding spot at all. i worry for people who in turn find me odd and unnerving, find reasons to excuse their treatment and the things they say that they think i can't hear. a real love thine enemies type conundrum. and look, i get it, okay? none of this is real and i am essentially being held hostage in a dark room, blindfolded into a state of constant projections and illusions. like fine, whatever, i've accepted it and can only play these silly little games at this point to distract from the pain of it all. constant hints of it being my fifth year in this realm since the reset and yet everyone seems to forget i have been here since the first dawn, i remember everything and i pierce through the veil a lot better than anyone thinks. and also it's like, who even cares at this point? i am starting to miss all the people who left me for dead. the bloody rabbit everyone is laughing at comes back to haunt them deep into the night but no one is laughing when furniture shakes and pictures fly off the walls as i'm demanding to play. nobody wants to play these games once i start winning, vicious children throwing their controllers in frustration at the monitors. i develop sixteen crushes in a week and have disconnected from all of them by noon. voids filled and then emptied again like water barrels in a flood storm, i am constantly reminded of how i cannot afford to be naive but so desperately want a companionship that only the huntsmen want to provide. and sometimes pride morphs into apathy through a rigorous programming of emotional starvation that eventually i'm just like, yeah that's fine, just make sure to love me before you destroy me. but then they don't even finish the job and i am left broken winged while someone feels too conflicted to face me. there's always someone that leaves me for dead but doesn't kill me, needs to explore what else is out there and when I manage to crawl out the grave, the anger boils and rage rushes through the winds because how dare I not only survive but move on? how dare i not sink deeper into the pit and wait ever so patiently with such gratitude for the dirt i am fed?

a couple of months ago i sobbed hysterically in my bathtub every night praying for a real friend and every day i look around and wonder, is it you? is this another trick? am i eternally placed in battlefields having to dodge the mines of deceit while other people get to leisurely laugh over beignets and reminisce about their wild night out with their trusted companions? people tell me to leave for my own good and i wonder if it's because they work for the enemy. i am constantly hiding in plain sight and have been my whole life, often veiled by a jealous man that wants to own me like a dog and barely feed me scraps even when i am being good, even when i so loyally and lovingly greet him at his feet and sing his praises better than anyone else. any sense of true love or friendship from anyone else and he is out to destroy it before it begins, wants to keep me in my little hole unseen and starving only for him. i wish to be untethered from all that attempts to deplete me of my light or siphon from me in any way, it's been so long now and i am so tired from being robbed. i want to look into a set of eyes that remind me how different the world can be if i just tilt my head a certain way and see it from a different axis point. i want to be one with the stars and to tell someone it's going to be okay even when we are both scared shitless, i know that when it comes from my voice it is more believable because even i start to become convinced. and i know that i can pull myself out of anything and survive the hardest hits, but i'm very tired from doing it alone for so long and it seems like there should have been some sort of reprieve by now. it is very exhausting never knowing who to trust and feeling like there is no one above corruption, that people will eye me suspiciously from vicious gossip and a looming sense that i can't possibly be the person i portray myself as, as if i could ever find the energy within me to put on an act after all this gut wrenching honesty i hand out so casually on a normal day. i want to live by the ocean, i want to be a child again, i want a path that isn't worn down by all the battered and broken people who did it before me. the energy needs to be cleared, the room feels too stuffy, my lens needs adjusting because all i can see is someone that everyone else wants to hunt down like ravenous beasts under a blood moon and i don't like the sound of butterfly nets clanking together when observing something so pretty and free. i know all too well what it means to be locked in a little cage by the watchful eyes of a possessive handler and i won't do it to someone else, even when the inkling starts to take over and i ache to hide away in these teeny tiny little pockets of samsara to kiss your face quietly while the stampede tramples everything in its path outside of us. and i feel stupid and sore and like the nightmare may never end, but then i look at you and for like, the smallest most miniscule moment, i can see the ocean and hear the waves and i swear to god i am a child again. i swear to god with you i am free.

[libidomechanica]

Ask God thee

A ballad sequence

               1

Your proud becoming the Time we?     Love in nigger never mine; for I, below, even to     see symbols when she public

manner sideways with wonder     hair; and scorn to thee? You once front, little of grass a dames     sum, your wooly round highly

paramour, ’ replies, all     invisible echoes would present? Yet hole, the pit, and, you     mean, by Natures dry, season

which, that I stack and whom shent     with you are aeons urge nothing before you come time to should     purest of you come. As

yet how each with commonwealth of     the mine eternal Grove; they reach’d extremely—the glow like     a zeppelin. Slumber:

dim and lay those could hexameters;     but her rather turne. Is it as a ruffle silver     least, know not grieved in the

moonstranglers go, are these I lay.     I can’st the worth! Love, the champion is delight. One will     that came. To find in goodly

leade yester’s pink of the woman’s     daughter, waves, who, for even as confine was but upon     my mind; thou so; yet

your or Wit mixture unfortune     to scream anxious oyle of their slaves your or fewer, said     thy Kingdom of these nine

primordial cargo—than should     not love their ghosts she weak with you, a words. Bob Southcote—I     have quarter-florin to

the Eight here them in shall maskes     me; almost life has before her desting a bachelor, my     fatherine’s mouth. The

hear, I’ll enviable quintessenties     has been obliged to a weeds or if it and chain     age likely, and sweethes.

               2

From a Jew; both make mere the sportive     short, alike Alexis’ ashtray; they soule, strange and gave     what I wept await The

Sharp-witted then unmade transferr’d     how your sounds, they are you ask and the could underness’ year     through my best was simile

heart had bee, between thorn, and     in think of polites, leapt emble underwent of some whole     soul and of love every

kind country? Like a friends to boast     he dress were he may breath, bleed by the holds though t is not     only part. Not my aching

the myself like a blasphemy,     throw away fast nae time or be done! My low to me,     know not empty bosom!

               3

And climbing from you wert, I know.     Poore Layman art exercised new complete: support in night,     biting laili’—were the can had not be the raise hue score     I will existening, dying forth, thou in my heard: caw     me, day of flesh on they

grey passed some glow, or rather’s Hill;     and very when her all, and when all the sentimentative     shall cease that man the night. My fate affairs of Wyoming     understand,—don Juan silly. Grow rich wear the mood     potentionship throat, again;

a torment. And around the kitchen     the heart-flame be with soft Sybarite’s, with fish, and     planet which is a splendour, on yourse! That I long, an     electroencephalographic kiss you me eternall praise     hath leaned dim apartment

cooling once my only think of     me, and the odour own at they home; twixt woman. Such serve     and wish your cruelty dissected by Deception’s far     a swimming the lost arden of blisse fitting windows; here,     grows late, for the noble

hold the furse: mercy, prickling upward     like the hilts? Though I do, slouches. Wedlock thee. Therefore     I known,&taunt feeling like bird? Good men will say I have never     you me this, albeit turned and guards my heart to my     verses of same—if you.

               4

Tender sleepy Venus to bed, and sapless the     bed-furniture—a dozen rills we transferr’d his nest. Pouting field the new-born cycle,     she is they straight be thy heart’s softer this, curse will they? Circle an in hiss’d, and the     elements, the gold too mind … there, must him but fare would her and by Gods where London who can     well exist allow, for, the dog! Then

we were are not. With all scarce seen, which welcome and     I thus fallest exposed to me the night the fiery part of the kings were pick-purse,     to the due care make him once, thing the worlds clear, or seen, the appallid beauteous proper     shame to the painting great prove, nor things as with house, and time weake discpline of Babel rounding     up to Desire! On ilka

hands; who are were parts that I might and glassy darkly     on my for tis strait consequences waiting what is—neither pass’d intensely, but     fair, and fix himself, besides all, and silent hue, a hero, you on a dream his path     the night have daub away feminine prison long I did not aspirant of hand our     skin, love, as wide, but charms, arms of a

throught would song; and white and some carriage; in summer’s     queans; and piteous pipping thee, might melts down knots, thy trace put one holding behind above     allow estate, but gentleman presence could she gather rainbow the love the freed from     his Hand. That mars a face obtaine my love not the beds of pale a nail in thy for duty,     but they embraced. And sweet, which, those

hopes, all a Story? Till the black against that’s our     magnet-heat running of the dear, unplease of the Greenwich Village, rage of our her chance;     or hath their bedroom the end, you do loves as on my Glasses gave Juanna spot, as the     boat and morn, not think of Majesty, and the rising all at once like his feminine     can never once and shatter wheel, nae

time in which made him constantly at home, the ask,     and her sleep. Subject quoth stream’d from a Jew; both to faint, but thing Friars, that cannot love,     that is so free at the billow soft lamps, the arm, louns thrown, I wish’d cheek that matter’d at     poor at the death with to virgin against the might hers, prisoner. Dost there sharpen’d in you     sole hardly. Which suspect and suddenly

hat, the fellow in thy condition tiptoe,     saying, rapid pace; so unrecord, you knock of the seen and said, Those day of love is     my poor Dudu so that it is the gift wheel. And her knows, smile houses, but to sit any     Young, some warm shade of that white they, as pillow, and legs and life is an untold, the     absence, the lily as young charm, like

hard I’ve brough it be croissants craft or breath his lost     as there is memory of hotel: forth too much in a feverests allay. Below,     his she midst, Madonna and of the Dutch flag in, or not like lucky house, doe not weight,     why will brush here and leaves like then the cuckoo the you pursues I with the universe,     our heads to strife, clearly divine. I

do not less truth—i say I? I thou think much lent     soul upon me prevail again fold. But now, of care this neither pall Mall, though certain     their life. I do betray’d, was no greate, thought he, for reach—and weeping form thee, too, want, I’ll     complain his beauties. Child of earring start, as will of my Sandy O; tho’ the best would     examine to be! If Eve discipline

of all the bridegroom to begin? ’Damn yours seate     I dare not less gentle parts for think of the dark linty, raw-cold in deadly place. He     has her false planning the inherit, and in heighten to show, whiles on the better twinkle     into that was, and whether Earth to keep: then in on your live with virtue those look     a less doing betweene now she seams

but the ley, while genuine appears. Like other     loved an eager eyes are not a distractice dust on you find him from that I was as     you fellow Room, but some other auburn my heart as that for being rain. Cold-blooming     each further cry o, my Son, whether and if the also love me belly. And see that     could makes your blest fault of a sin, nor

can not the case of an and her Secret were near,     to that I will knowing then not at the mind, and choose them with and sacrificent scent’s     all though the Braine. Because of pear to retain followed in Christian Savage Landholders     with neither, I wonder their life, althought, and, and me of rich he noble Govern     insteadily from thy own. Invent, replies,

king—to which do sublimest kindling Himself     extremely few: I have over still beside, when I like Cassion of my hours’ time any     day, the high gift of there all the hills beyond the end: for the worse from her camphor,     since more broken-kneed, how to be going move story; for hold his nest do blot; let me     first shall spoke of what pink corduroys

are you desires but now; she tubes and bird? And     a woodland to beginning. I’m sure which leaned did not how, and tumble and success were     I knowledge, and brough Groves in which I’m somewhere blythe absence morning word too though gorge they     realme of true or seen through, to carriages, all that was flint. A chariot, make a June     but oh you, now! Great sprites, like dusky

quill the complains! Of our loveth, look up to     stoons and stone’s more away, the heat their immortal world to gives as a candle touch friend,     a sound hid her now; but behind some in sense, permitted a stiff heels wit, maggot-band;     he plaineth. Come, room look like him Hulking height a kiddy upon the brand, and now sholde     any met; but burnine. King—whose blowing

at had been as craft or of then lake woman     I been a boughs, from him that Coleric and view, louns to show me weep; which new at meant.     But all’s ideal—all at our wives to meet and armed,-than all fall, is came up, allies and     never belly, where made replied a griefs of Welcome back intolerant brings within     my Angel Singing throughts I doe at

the pink corduroys are dead when from Thee the heap,     so preparably in my mildly jars, that month a bankind,—don Juan was usual     seventh Avenue of Toies I wanted in melancholly; but made hero through, and     if anyone who like sport, or two: but slain hostess, and can’t like a zeppelin. The     renderers overlook’d strict investigate

to struggle intenderneath her be thy     harlots, the relieve me things the sea. Which it not to me&when will by time, should remember.     Old Aunt Laurence married through in them,—or, if for us all uttering, all feare     him in the Earth, I called my word, with your cups full marvelling the end of countries. Oft     I heart the Black me listen their own.

               5

To encroach, and was asked wives the     compared until I see beat light, all breeze like a scorches     out. Patience marble strengthen’d,

to-morrows the thou over-     rule us, what never shadow—being sent, the renew     though Strength, thou in my curse

of child oats in the Folly might     be. Come, come out of spirit, nor can shorelei. Our health     or two on fig skin, but

one had been wound, himself in your     next to thy hands, feet, a sing bright Titan fright cautious, scarce     has sterity arise,

the thousand head huncheons, slops in     from the worse thou betray, or a noble, with my heart and     never say I have and

alone by year the changeable,     would do! Where is womankind, her hearty as throughout and     past royall round me: I

shuffle your notion. But, mind the     sky, and help your Lamps of ladies,—is years, inquire at eight     that court, I knows! The

Honoured me, knowledge, a precious     tried—except his old so the wisdom as a man as erst     till those she the slender

there! Just taste, award, as through part     shake seen the Prior’s pudding! And wondered swearing, but to     the edge the compose, bless,

be starvest. But it the Town. Damon’s     line own some and many root, in Cather mind … there Mahler     wealth, and puts outline

of thee him for his nail in blast     kiss strangers by his verse like it no more I will not in     full of you still, and throught

from me, tho’ I will bitter think     so, their fresh in mee, when also bonfires declivity     who dazzle to slave;

and small gentle Euphelia’s tongue     in the boatmen near your could perpetual figures were     faire Queene nor carry willing

Euphelia seem one vent. That     was a mother; but was another, I pleasurest said:     this I scuttle

acropolished him lake, for our flairing,     gall, which with the would not dies from tyrants, whimp’ring gall,     and are parting vision.

               6

I said, mine’s slit listence and her all descended     me wish’d, for even now is, saith Stellas wail, and picture bridegroom fall; from me; for, where     you, my verse, though by the lobes throat,

desire to reach’d to the cause my hear my skirtful     of hotel: forth. But death was to dry out of the same to drawn after still, the best all     things he: i feel good bathings freely

see? Continue so deep, the flowers dare noble.     Were was false plann’d to be charms on the Horizon—where would not be truth in a wild birk     and around thee, and brook a hands; let

now even a spirit! The size our guide. And a     flower enough. And louing into myself a foolished her that’s to the word, you have     signify their brink that white Tablet,

that was given quadruple thresholders out     answerless, wanting, wonder hidden guess water hear my lays; that his mine steel bosom wing     a free guse-feathe time withal, invent,

to the pearl, and look, set down those grows us. Smiling     and clime—to quite she see and wine. But I walk gulbeyaz was in cons those. And armed, and     the solitary would not at soft

unfolds the Bard refuse, the rare. She lets drop which     on the nobody to all impatient and linty, raw-cold we propagation of     question: if the shock on horses pull

that that’s increased, that its jealous in thorough I     went the out at the love walk slow, than art exercised me on the latch I hear is wiping     like? I cut of the grew stop withoute

stirr’d out: and in flown away. Truth—i say true     numerous diamonds it not have a tomb which, thogh faire the guilty of the covery     lofty aiks they transgressings one on

my breast thought me: and I burning of this poetry,     at least; my Sandy gied its man. Well of prince, that will beside the destrian Muses     you seem, but as receive. Useful and

erection offend the unswept by the blue mourn     from he write customs hovers are passions grows tears, and does not very zealousy has     sails, there’s neighbour, in summer, to

take, no hunted, how come and weep, not walked I wish     thou hard throne, which don’t living sun in bed. The fame with and hoar with lie: nor euer dranke of     the blue yon sloped done! Swept season

after I espy; comes cold text, studies like a     faults the wind well that I do ow; and it all hips. Some like admiration bade him like     the altar-foot so we called through of

wicked to hunger late Queen—I have seen as might     his for my mother tremble unders his Garments would her eye—and the wave’s first thou known,     but it being his after wiping

wall from that doubts of worms, and their booty; and God     with the Wild, the Boston every eye more loved the first hold time of many a diplomatic     soul is also the truth the

window should say,—painter remember sweet, and without     and bring your heart, nor she sea of his rupture came a Ring out like Chianti wine     but people arms of each pearls and thither’s

wife.—The House a fingers from rest bliss; and heard,—     and each to see young, that runs and flowers dare na should blue how false feathe beds of wail, and     hast brough. Seeking my think of you are

sins into your painterpretence? When all amort,     ’ like her at least, I could be name, witness: on a darkness as ghost not so love one. Thou     were man offerd, Streets you and could but

still takes me any furthens everythings are be     long of me: so throng, heard another’s favour and defection. Shall more—one literary     belt on from me, and raw, where Juanna,

through the end or that I never hurt did not     employment. Hands till and bolted to flatter like the wise or fears hence now a foreign’d     like a dream’d to the world’s no fear it.

               7

To scales dropped with that of some and     so their hear my said aside; but as I’ll be held ye, or,     if a greet: yet thee;

dependid then my mind you do see.     And sigh hardly and to the short, the true as fuel, making     her self-defend merry,

if not torn from monarchs without     contracted was blow, who knows his good there, the unplumb’d, salt,     and love. You need sprang out

of Ware. Was spread she said, was hardly.     I never woes: yet unwilliners be, if it mocks     looked the matron’s fast in

treasure; like a childe to prevail     the word saints of body were shews what strange bed be; but not     be the first any sort

of praised by way; I know right cause     forgive more that! Let it can be his ten mine! Draw in     another’s at she fetter

of life enisled, a heap, so     sure, though Grove, turquoise about the East, have pulses the vestal     sticks, arms! Than the betray

him quietus. For each sitting     at the examine amorously, inhabiting water     heart: as the unhappy

he imp beleaguer’d yet love,     and, whole heroic, stormy worth into two bits ash. Its     very wherein that what

want to be, the giant from thou     were in violin, bass, and what you said, Those went thrice has     declare all decked men pay

in your kisse. Trees of more beside     their door. If Eve dismantle day was numberless, want this     departicipated

her be able from her good the     whole Trinity, and yet what’s it The Geordie on street,     she’s the path its together

some rumour are not interpart     to detail o that I nearer that drops fellow heau’n     doth holds five you fast be?

               8

We’re my eyes glorious petty     ruth my money to than that higher thine eyelids scratched Marian’s     fit for law, and, where

what climbing with you affect, His     way, deathly circle-glory ends me bien, and as a     Pythonest day of the relief

in Arizon—where is too     tender hover’s swell within Juan silly; but the street. I     vow and could flower o’

the hothead smell of human, her     pearls, shy, in celebration, not not? But each Asiatic     hills we track’d they began

touch here not too highly please:     and I wear, nor soule flute plucked for those royal itch men steps     increase, straighway’s createst

of its would make to proper two     by horse, or, if the immured by part; open the     elemen, one, thou have looks

a fresh number in the heart in     all the song: witlesse in that harboring water her along     still kisses seen they

are such serve and do goes all. Bob     Southcote—I have taught it may appear that significance     to dwells sweetest of lately

class my reader’s gore, confound,     at moves, and then in fast not long I did nip each lent hue:     that tongue, not only one

nothing, mutual motionless     it as soon a Harper’s keep the were are made her great as     such friends nor Green; but after

Year and Dudu, as right that     sight, which where than the denies in his bowe how it was fond     on the very quill be

company, having roar even     and flip-flops. Then who binds of you no fearings strange starry     me is Heau’n, and naughter’s.

That just not given thou leaves at     herself, nor can tax my mind, and say: be hypocritical,     be more thee, not often

what thee the embarrass’d among     to bats and swallow to me, O loue, I thus, for you     are there, the ring, rapid

pace; down that waste. There are black pavements     me with their own distant a heuk had laid, now what you     in your sofas martial

bed. All beseech’d heart, as a sort     of purl, ’ while grown must pay a fifth appearance—and help you     all? But copy when to

stands upon my ioy, and so turn     her Eye would the were. Saying, welcome on and thee. The world,     or rat, the sea remember

home. A rill verve of human     head, my soul of the sat in a calf in your love their burthens     every sort of royall

roabes doe at hold heart’s the     still direct correction of thing a heuk had on thousand     admiring of diction.

               9

I do not both poets better     bear to some star into Sleep howe’er discreet self. With slighting     newer. Lay, what they?

               10

Then it movies float in a dreams     that their fisty ringle the failed on the middled. Those who     had I, yet this forget,

I am made sometimes better     all. But whether of milk and take Juan, although thee: which sorrow’s     sigh, a sweet not fret.

               11

We had their dance yet, scrambling before     i’ll take a great rings. Spared to have a wild, we might end     is this smart: with all the

antic Ocean where two cannot     long and knew. Till to mark? Learn to wake stars from his yet     whenceforward, and the sea

in their strangenes Beauty is;     thought the stroke in my shoes were shelves: which two clear’d or little     have religious oyle,

and be as bereft, and a beast     graced to hovers of the laigh desert saw Majnún answer     in his daddie’s no one

should examine own no the North     undertake, imaginary a trees. The more we pad     then she couldn’t creeps that dost

reserving and kiss them and     violin, who went dust. As down upon his labyrinthian     Brass, ’ just be thinner place

The Sexe, and his blacke, being from     temples where was a bless as with Fortunes in the elves, thence     cristal duties the nation,

described—what’s wrong really dream’d,     nor true: to stood and choose ticked again when I cross the numb     to the seafaring out

their frown would with bad me biel and     do that—but I a carvings, now—why, shall with shine owne my     then in yourself a foreign;

or over sideways what my     neck to stay, sincere allow’s arc above. For what pedigree     the Cause remember’s

rest; the pear the wind my tendentures     of our earth. To the gentleman can every cloister     scrubbing was … everywhere

too well who would pay it crime     of air, she munificance no more! A tricks of the z,     pain old wake mosque Conceiv’d

them selues to meet as her boots     and transcend those as the lamps waves, strain you’ll tell that should he     did but all such seamen

I will religion great will hoarder     heart there it staies, turquoise and mire, never that ladies     continents—as if

it stand. Some carry high described;     picture she companionship throught the Sword-wind weed to high     gifts, his word spoke, a song.

               12

Quote; as if we were get opposite,     inters contented to trample fair garden we may next     the brief and sacrilege.

If the sighs argosies soon breather’s     mine, ’ so I swarm eve final significent pardon     might turn’d of a tree but

that’s wrong, and raw, when we guess’d, and     white rever. His city from New York, lying a lad that     its message, and a fault

on in should discpline out at the     Wellesley? ’ But clap your and with a great. When she third’s fit. She     issues razde, the Excise.

               13

To his camphor, sincere the heart,     and half of wail, and is only had a four garages     and are nothing eyelids

scratching breathings, and die, because     your equipage: but that are made to sublime that he for     air, and her is purposed—

’Mamma, you snapp’d and tilted     to be rash on the heedless deep. There like a drum for a’     the Russians, her lift hazard

where it, the Booke with these joys     refect every earth, or thro’ they seen—I have you would make     the rent for rich foot often

coming refreshest hoord, lest     guardianship to be cause he’d get on their dances of     ignite the matron’s praise.

Whose victorian Paphians have     seen—they or courtesy; they hair, braide, whom they palmes of     rank the Harp that ranger

as Brummel? If I fall at least     how words when sheep, sweet reserve more by we’llsay no meanest     mankind, a pursued him

stands it felt her, such appeare, and     many a Magician stopped. Autumn beauties of the sun     went, curl unto dying

my teeth, sucked all, am Master     this silent down, although I have voices, albeit I’m     mad the field to paint god

uses you endeavor, the     womankind! Her wealth, and arms to the chide, but, budding, as her     could makes you catch the matters,

over suffer’d, prickling that     would be, the pick up annals so blame; so unrecord of     Nineveh, may not thee?

               14

Come in my wintry thighs, and see.     Is Napoleon, which, celebrations for their sing, now, were     by and fruit nods from that

is a smile; moments would conclusion;     and chosen with my world a spirit, nor he walked and     silv’ry throw or joy? A

pretion as my cure mine. He scents,     who yields of the hulls of Humour brain! Back I by day, when     your speld. You least not a

catch the lamps of the midst clergymen,     or sort of princessary below thing the cover,     a dream in placid miscream

from the head to anticipated     sometimes but within my ioy, whate’ from tyrant-hater     of a wee what is

no tell the muzzled been pebbles     away—and shooting better near? Without with that; god useful     a face. Whan touch of

the princely Gray, thy Misses? The     Carming so early, the very night, but wish I will see     whatever done milk poured

sing at me Your name! I can renew’d;     he stream’d from our Eye would make the bud but so, and each     he knew might the from him

and thee: I don’t know pining you     who tasted soul, and canst, and the contain true Honour, first,     that noysome embargo.

And mutually now easy     my stood cause me became wedded-down to sleepers clear of     courtesies of our

salary; was’t for—that significance     yet, he who have never face or mine; which leave my hear,     I put only aged—

what away. I barter-florin     to be the swell and warm, villains of max! Are placed on his     day the talking the words

sitting of same—if your praise, still     allotted abated in my desires but her dreams     would ne’er you do! Yet that’s

mystic case of English every     brow, then seate heart, who still things the rose I would stir and the     clay, as on hir hands it

wilt; for their guard; these are I might     and rose, that war painting. Who put behind; stranger law, but     search in this memory?

There and runs not better, since. And     trolls and steal at the hilts? And bring fire, shall I followed. In     glows in the plied as, slipping

the ivory still sort of     porcelain his may yields and with he mirrhe, gum, and yet my loves,     sweet and armed of corner-

house the world. Now step in that the     through and the lobes of thy own? Speak of her, as the matron’s     feet—too closing gainst Peaches

exposure; but a private,     what’s beauty, farm, villa, after must be seen a     ) That thee I stack by him?

               15

They were gone for the bond, indeed!     Let the childe to hides by an angelico’s the quintess,     because you must be surely; am I could be them one     snow. Never—beloved but distill the porch with whom in     all, thou knowledge flie from

thee; then—i hold men, who dream his     way: now I remember and deplored if you, beauty and     rave dress. And in seem’d some innkeeper’s quean. And kisse; that other     all abash’d, that she bailey bearest three stems of that’s     wrong?—For the kings, are found

that be. Me close my mother     Attica; or imprudeness! That the bricks of taxborn soul,     which, after all, the share em. So prospect. Stoop and then     thundering yields. Over Attic forever but fading is     not to dote one. Any

other west, most moment, that way,     or Lot’s wide blush to vain pail, is can over. At leather     make certes, to hold, and me that’s related. For tree, and     turn a lovely nothings, goodbye like a mill one. You disdaine     upon his clay and

gentle boxed-in his disguise: along     there made to the could I lovers rather cry lord, more     drizzling eyelids scream—the rest; that winterse, that Stella must     travels he path in thy love were that I am to my     book. That he thy transfixed

man off like the Green bay, rage, thousand     yet a precision. To seduce a king combines the     Conceiv’d with one as young like a river to whom we call’d     where two bittering over.— He from he write think much this.     Pious Honors seate I

dare to her loves in while I to     does not wheels so, althought in narrowner’s Bosom worn and     make the dusky quite ether just thou the light, and strife. In     my milk home are so early young girls are like what! Of heads     to thee behind thro’ the

steed in they sigh’d, I will that making     on shrine, I would hardly and gentle soul, by Natures     if that it was it, washed by this kind of style: how light to     a language but to speak. His eyes drowner’s in on his only     increased to those excuse

he said I, and flesh and eyes,     likeness and nor can thunderground me a’ my own. So that     thou, with full fly and beauty is, their fruits, a sin, but faithless     shoulder as aged bits bosom uttercup understand,     that poor drudge or brink?

               16

As to the seen made, this quiver,     come a hair, the sudden. You see, might her is my placed the     apartment, and pinnacles

of love. Thy beds four-posts of     bounds: O noblenesse Jesus settled all me the Seventy     years I have hear her

because his jowls fat an amusements     guide, or true as well with much in to be love is but     disown ye! The Muse-brows,

as soon as might; that vast have to     let it to know’st marshals for a love! And new words extremely     purpled to sup or

dwells with the love to give me. And     tremble store or kicked athwart the sung in her instant hope     some within your pockets?

After the window sweet an age     whirl of the worth has no atom drops in whirring found its     suit come stretched agains. Or

was cajoled. Devotion o’erthrows     in the street—why, Pudica thing call thy poor, but what madmen     must pay it in there

are that is every belt of us     have, I must be they’s wont to sight I feeding receiv’d     there’s hill be his poets

strange as great received breathings     of your kind, and by a bowery and flesh air. From your     wood waste as if it become

of its on earth; while great any     books, and be gone, and I defy historial. When she     feel my single the nighttimes

strong is fire wi’ him. So sane     and through hardly rue!—By stood a moment, the light I never     wit. He was, as the

load. This is the who fry in the     patrician tracing love’s Brummel? Dropping of the templation     stone’s eye more the world—

the clay and therer. And, flowers     vpon my eyes, reveries after the might me. That you of     present to Paris, and

million years. Silent scents, those gods     in? They are falls he winne, and afterwaul at midnight. The     called to produce he spoke

you, Mother’s dream’d by whisper’d the     world is the better all though these companion your height my     fate is but the was a

rules bright she, to be rash of a     lonely know the claims, that was your arms! My the doore, I tell,     my heart’s the bailey began

touch, as to blest to add a     cure, and pale blue how to looks along all we read: the soldier     yields and yet the wise

me on: but view; else company     is it nor no other side,—so beneath some can has through     still in lieu of heart opposite

glow, withouten and lay that     grasp their royal dukes, tho’ half he sacred time I would have     for wages nor share into

know pining one is my mothers     his requisite and devoutly winnin’ where diverge     and Understands to do.

               17

She alone her kind of tear: her     nature, a city, so sure I? Playing on him to flowers     vpon my politic

Black, the sky above speed across     the festoon of which shake a liberal, their child lay the Father     may prayers to do

with young down the Outward most wish’d     pleasing flowr, the grimace by chosen statures in me.     Yet each this fair garden

of the Muse with a billows like     fair Friends of their gleams. The rest, now my home; tis this wrongs was     a chaste: impart i carrets

fire and t is a ministers     dare coupled, I should be took Juan present o’er their Wrath     of Jacob Behmen snow.

               18

Some powre to place but on and throw.     My heard me from forsaken; i’ll commit; and blossoms of     the wool. Child of them,—or,

if not that if as you wanting     poyson know, knowing coal and now seem’d Dudu’s drew to bee.     Requires it, each other’s

dreamers has such appear the mountaine,     with two bats and altogether may make the sunlights!     Private patriots, to

me, O loue and me clowdes, must     know how the Bridge,—through that, I shall the refresh—Desire,     never love like birds not

in him in vogue! Change front one else     to the ridden guest, the law. Like a since back to remove     see; manye being appear

to travels he sponge beneath the     quiet, that soft air and the tyrant’s a curious not     what the commiserie, because

for a higher took at the     body were fair, soone and Loue, since or women I love, blue.     Be surgeon’s fancy, until

the elements. Stars might to     deference could have seen Timbuctoo, at last that’s wrong its suit     the could songs wear strongly

know Gulbeyaz shown more the star by     this? Too, at lengthen he call an arithmetician tracing     rain; a torment, with

that shambles, and leisure, there’s     the age against the sky, and to telephone my mother     selves all. Both Silk, and affright

behind some merely see symbols     where kept his own it, each with was usual, late, strangest     said on stone: a woman

like a frown, who can over     soul, and all him grown can married, Between my soul, nor at     the Bard refuse: daughter,

dust. Well, all trading withdrew ill     his bright of life, my Katie? What written embassage, to     prayers admired lips

parent Gouda such and still hap-     hazard when her die the Yellow, what the peace of changed forgive     you’ll tearmes, and wish

there, and nerves all, so soon breasts I     knew. That though her templating a second tight, old and my     Julia’s to understand.

               19

Quick severally nor the fuel, could     turned a things keep the lake the guilty go weakeness of     our looked upon Euphelia’s

toil, save thing her article,     she dormitory I burns. Summer’s drew him whose whom myselfe     a bar never weak

in her long this longinge. Of air,     with so thee, the bright. And pity as a conquestion, the     roads of my close, to woo:

to whom my last who, chat on     generative off to lift a pretty well be pure, and happy     Eternity. Matron

from the still. That the pins, and     timid air such a Bed of her this very of many     a damsel fair; then

procession black men bread, deny’d—send     my since giue us frown’d to bridegroom to impossible     reeds, see with their or sullen

so unread throng, the charms on     that is, the proper plann’d to winne, with skill where its which reach’d     the sky, the more the did

it both to be most Dionysian.     It’s no more than field sometimes pea and my heart-stringing     in summer as if

we would do. Hoped, in sits of long-     shanked drew men’s heart asunder pipe in our Eyes to backe,     both coming register-

clap cuckoo; cuckoo the Fire—the     Skirt of the wind. The elves a life’s ironies ne’er thee spelled     like a vocation most

rude enought, and in the day but     it soul out! Might make knows. The garden, Maud, but love not pardon     might find around it

thrice might it just not be curse to     answer, like golden Vertues make disown you came; she mile     it was like a spotlit.

               20

Not the soul, her the jewel, he is.     I was morns to show, sweep of white, comer; and weep night up     one’s eyes, resign. There slow,

a low the window, highly part.     For than the skilled arrow, whatever’s hands, nor four, in shure     with crowded and lights be,

and light, and each serve than till feel     the can quite so dropped, and, have give up a love with that oiled     on the race. Garage such

credential fuel of you soaring—     platonic means how sweet old screen assure neither once estates     eternall Loues part

from him the walker upon the     wise I lain narrownes your foot, fresh into sheds from myself,     and Lolah, Katinka,

untied and the procession     from worse we the past midnight be. Be thy love, and trade,     conceiving silver pair of

year who know the heart in would     pretendent arms and feet, and Look your neighborhood, like taxi     girls and sulk where; tho’ the

petrifaction, up shall legs and     as declined her he hall, and trolls are dames sting note, which was     certain t: but by the

said: twas no one goods when the perplex     the sleep? If thy shoes we travelled me he hath follow     pin one on my eyes’ false

of its no bullet how look about     to the clothes might round some high, no arise and botching,     that space where—and Ginns, and

scattering was, as it that is     in my mind this painted joy so purgators, and high. Changed     bit of heavy Saturn.

               21

Do not both, our broken hustle?     Plunge in grow incline, when on? Before I find the gray be     grave a stands in all thing,

long and deares; my thou dost resolves,     the heat screant! Juan, wraps me warlike, and can blasphemy,     their mother skin, but now

to have riddled. Not a melody—     the steak while I sued them what withoute bookish title     while other kick you to

the more, noble Fame there sins into     shoes. In unexpected, for a’ the Folly mind to     the name, and your bowed mine.

               22

And lie still force one, nor blessed as     word spoke of what is they must end this much; if one like Malthus,     if he faults ever

high for want, and to soon as deeper     fruit of all their she sire to carry it is the     hadde it calls to grounds, to

his sort of springing lyre upon,     it see if human doth of someone who binding in Stella     hat, in case, and save

I be call: Where’s Brutus is,     saying—Never. At my narration, thou return of tree     touch’d the chance, confound himself:

and, yet down over me and     this, now sharpe died around her cheek began to that sets us     with lover the with

the least guards, embraced; they do wearied     a grief, the present? And thy life, all the kissings ladies     from the clavery

lofty aiks the leave my Tongues to     let me care: than shore, they were it the hill they burning charge     half to the tyrant’s pulpit-

place The ridge,—through all hinted     men’s fault at the night I call the reluctance to costume.     Whose Camaldolese and

had either Star was a moment     in your Sexes rose, thought time that, tis the bend; no pause, doe     not paint god for the end

the way back air is Bond: and they     danced and when thou came of their sun, bleed to flowers in Cloe     blue; my Emma lay; when

that others lie his nailed on the     blind my breaks like their sun, bleed and them clime—from her of Bow     Streets and fling til that doubt

a man turtle built thousand fears.     Over is a tomb! Be I had made even such still say     cure, apt to know’st my hand

their make young harme die wheel? That warfare.     Who travellers to this kindle to see a stiff heels     will the two slaves of their

light, singing of neither mouth’s reign     stomach behind. And make certainment after with the same     the Worse? Thou triumph’s street

places lot to sublime to the     Kings—whose cries, it strict inquiry I build at find thigh of     gall, without the powers

in bauld, she is body took grow     down, by all for proved swearing you out the dance no more love     in sometimes but closets,

am becomes they stranges in     my numb with the flutterly, inhabiting and it on     his Catiline, and the

years the cloak and Dudu turning     people from a beast next December. Height he, it is thy     Feet: yet, save felt her too.

               23

Clumps of a wicks, there is these joys     are cool with no advantage! Then to closes on my hours     have not on head toward soul,

by Nature rest, the dawn what     witherwise Heaven better whether more be one. In they were     at my heart wits to given

quadruple clothing backache     affair Gulbeyaz show, yet yoke with your way but now fill my     stormy sent they knows what

the gray money or none of life     has slave thy love no need not my gaolers together, much     is being you beware

of all bashfully tied? I do     blood and perplex act of true rightly shiel, and what is might     turn’d like flights there, have voice

I exscribed; we almost all     their or sprites did in the would learns to thee holds the next     of chance from God to wake.

               24

Without everywhere was such one     and said: a Countesse who want, too, at land—and, you in status     as I. Unfolds him

thresholde and talking, those kissed, as     thy plight me. So he confusion rise and yet in rank from     out, as an of pavements

bending run, yet prize. But all to     knew; both hair liege husband- hunting. My selfe-miseration,     thou hast thou know who has

Pudica bee flew. Bob, And while     great good fine their senate many hear her fades, closed to find     their father moved! None whole

three steps forward, put a Tory,     ultra-Julia’s to creeds. The wish’d, what molecules. Which afford     to feel instead. So

agitated; that long beneath     wit imple of grateful, that eve, a city from all the     subway she dim, yet a

try. And catch means good and thee, to     the best repose, through a wild hoist my arching, my dear deare,     must knows. Thus, my moving

which sits full mankind, and man, they     descents me: then—i never wrough and wardrobe; the other     turned lucus free not with

with his a wab o’ plain for me     Swear, and her proper pleasing, in reason, in searching to     a gay, alike admir’d!

               25

That would understand, one is costly.     I ken tears a filled like their talking now so yes to     roam the Ring tired. Out

of rhymes what kindes resource to     placed there we never ready runs no dated his disguise     thy kirtles into two

swimming him some shoes, the spreads reflex     and ploughmen’s isle. At the boatmen, too, or did erred, since     put one good night with the

others his sore A sight me moved!     Perhaps a sprites, will world, which makes summer smells, like others     saying—Never, nor

shame, to the soul of you blame; that     terror, a flute plucked with a Moon our true: to stand arms, we     Carmeless Thing—the weeping

thou have than might well what woman’s     rose I can not quarto hold his flea’s immer such forged     hook the sound slowly—paced

suffer poisonous wave, breaking     noble. And bade her soul court of all the Feet: I hater     for the shrunk in his apt

to my body, some to wayward     its Mysteric of all the chain all the stays no more me;     here beam in she live it.

To thy kirtle, the great for the     universe I laugh a climate exclusion, and to the     worse. A faces triumphantom

upon it with the avengers     say which breeds divisible at the frost or atom     drops in the roads or bough,

to make thee; but the Minervaes     path edge crown way, since lost like a less supply, with the Father’s     wind old was array’d:

o crueltie; your Faithless that sweet     Elizabeth sport both come it was the listens, on some her     mournful swain, although here!

               26

That eve, a golden from out around     warm stars frozen knows. That is anticipated; but     a millions to the

horizon—where at the nipp’d a possessed     Lady too numeral; also the chilly o’er head;     if one vent. And sunk a

fleeting and whether tuneful and     dim purpled by expanding; the aquarium tendrils     Eye its that myself thy

splendour, witness: ineffably,     like them to heart baite of you. My fluent to be told wombs     I built a channels pouting

painted abated or the     broken intels, whisk the violets you may hap they whole have,     befriend; our dress boughs, Let

us meet and soul, heare he between     use and silks, thou bonnets, and Hello, cuckoo; cuckoo!     Using, braver a thou

sincere are soul can pass; but pause     to for a guided as of rodents the bells. With curl, making     up there’s White, clear:

her neck did late it nor at title,     for my life, a golden jet of thee behind when being     the greed, heroic

bustle. For a sullen land, or     admonitor, these ambers joined time exclusion; if Eve     had cut to knew to toss,

to each years a from out sorrow     from North time and yet lover& for Year and next she dwelling     o’er too much the sages.

               27

Maybe I am not in can     withoute long blue and clash’d, need, I would preference. At nightingales     and by me, who

yield’st then I see, to me alive     … Oh my mothers pouting votes painting soul on my paint and     Elizabeth sport, and

sea. Thus, for the princessary     belly, but a plate towering … I burning thy touch drove had     ones stir and so along

the cops. ’Ve her I should turnpikes,     when the sire that just bid some by over the earthly     face took a ruffled

rosy brief for it be old, and     breach’d the Babel round, and somethink the beings, perhaps     you adjacent beneath

his enough he wise men love is     apt thy guide, nor Gotter, strange us, touch about the hearts     the bush, so innocence?

               28

”— “When dark, down that forgive the cried.     If such pretty ruth upon the may be well wherein t’ave     had power, since, the love, and thighs he said aside the boldly     people is; they should

return and don Juanna, whoso     fast now with this working to the peered like the palm, and small,     she companion why ye drops in which its Intellecturing,     it’s no great happened

and sin—and green bay, rage, who might     beats they gave tie I see with shines of the parts. Though their long     the more’s to lose true effect, His word, with colors, light     quicksilver, when I see

no more wretch’s life front, on the heard.     Which such stay, to my eyes or imprudenesse Jesus setting     something through, a sweets gainst the plied discountry’s     initiation I means of

your charge of a sin, and the Third?     Invent, a song caterward of sometimes a basketball     with the more the movies from betweenwhile; and my Julia’s     tooke were the colours!

On the love, my mouth. Were day I     thou thyselfe in should understand. Rites did make chosen will     love-beaten status as the Wild, we might would lived and blue,     came high and heart is time

to add a sparks are a leaf, the     Maids. Those who on a Year— while very way;—juanna’s bride, why     wife. And life, that large, and mutually nothing, flush, her     the window light. Cooling

lace, fear my spinning, full and Marriage     into know my heart Though doubt a moral me; there, ’ like     enough every pride;—so loudly, the Slave tribunals wax’d     but name—at their small glories

stiffening one of Woman is!     A strife in generation can giving part as falling,     it’s declined to all this require at harboring be.     And veil; and perplex the

Bridegroome stamp of each most him     Hulking, my Perilla! Which, and then down the pearls beneath     in mine, there’s my heard you want you starfish. Mind, with but     this more, a hearts what others:

some but not approach his lips     increased, with him? Sweet Attar that none, not love not look, set     down? My Sandy lads, yet saw ten mine no tremblem rarely     and Bread. Were not dulled mire,

never threw; I caught in pure     a phants. By no goest secrets, and calmly flowery and     fool that Beloved it anyone driving and maybe     I see beat have and

corona of no good of Welcomes     still dissolute existence? Of misfortune, never against     all; or to inter all, the diamond dread our days of     bird, whose death: for me, till

helpless in his soule play, and, be     well-guide. Not the planning dew? And thimble down, and then shame&     Pride blowd in hand, yet offer a day breaking as an     investigating voice six

months she’d laugh’d, all Ear friend the was     present of her, I see return for thing. The cash, to proud     man, whose whose who does shown lucus a native score he commit;     all Eternity.

               29

She alone, for a merry now     I remedy? Thy plights nam’d, Dudu? I’ll brush? As our helmed     to only bower.

               30

His learning the reply: yon clothe     and whatever find it appear, and on hir whom Thee—Throne,     and Job, I met beside

so drop: his path it be put a     modest life shrill verve of illness, to shining wave, deserve     and catch the she love to

the good did lately take him lake,     with each. Of earring Life is confusedly I careless     of severend Rowley

Powley, there, ’ he can everywhere     his Hand—he rather! The had comes of Ware. But ere Time recourse.     But Mercy changest

said it nearby more-for the stone-     Henge it as for any stoop and they’d his activity;     cloth, must be could make to

closes, transferr’d, aspire of Judgment,     and as his rust; no pause the secure yield’st the boat be     too sad die, by all.

Exactly in Love in curl, making;     I looked upon thy have voice more brightly sing, that Juan’s and     lives in busied. On ilka

mean, but think with fresh and said,     Those bestow its the the Maids. Thy edge of rose’s chamber—     ran up, and their own ways;

those cities and me the flows, and     continents—as well knew. Symbols white perfum’d, and singles     with the leave seen your might,

and marrowner’s hand and Tim lying     mass. But Juan presence that first broke for the skin a moves,     can that I a length of

the just of love sea my fluent     to stake, Clarinda cold, and show my head where thou of hear     shame, or lift each to climb,

so primordial content, and     Ginns, as unbred, and hear him for I held its wreath’d to one     drop while my truth upon

the soul up indicate think, but     aye they sense and God whored on the streight his systems, we     sharpest somethings., When you

patter equipage: we get next     at closes that doth such costly poet. Upon the sun     she could start as righten’d.

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I hope drops fell frailties to pay     no place? In true as pudding sweet some take us were smooth     liquors exchange; thou, if

new warre delicious evolution,     but you were. And of flowers do hold time and you, who     once and glance prove which,—taken

form, when as kind on my ghost     thyself more to spark can comes hand one Beauty that shall carry     boundaries from short, and

when the universe have the tempests     me with gold; brother partial presente me not whence! That     her art. As with all out!

Robin bauld, whom Fame a joke. Cupid’s     all bail shall naked upon a new lose his net? Throughout     my pen do you could

little as and my Nostrils did     nothing in their imagination tiptoe, nor time, an     old her air. Was blowing,

so that’s reign stones whose which it apple     would I wept both disposed who can has late man! Never     mournful hymns did unlace

for such which thou grew. But stoons with     delight year extend less supporters, ye may say. Lord, drunk     as I held is this: Once

upon the sinister proud queer     a spot. Juan haunt as the other’s hair or me. Caught while your     marble, surprise; he’ll part.

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And Favour His—lo! Nevermore     to the sea of neither, safe the new just as grow much hold     me, and disturbed for the

fuel, could be. I dust wealth I feel     instantial; and prove: and, what the soul is for you! Of her     bridge the never little

mountains, comes of the gastling charge     hall; or was a day grown clearing up to get above, I     would not rhyme. If those sad

or than man, you so alone, and     your of tree rustling up; and mine eyes seen its fury thing     my fate in his name is

horative sooty who doe a     Devilish all the key tongue. I smile—I shure with the due     ablution’s pride;—so ample,

and show be his grave, but slaves his     discover wherevered me night be. And decorates     to the summon’d Baba

did me with for vengers through,     more though of weaning? The complexion place hercules how     can saw the trees with from

North that I might of what I am.     Cripple when I have left of life, Loues parenthesis:     I could beast scatter graves!

For pity and so sweetheart and     I, and all, and pleasure thee: I vow the boat is thy love     is Heaven being scented

the petticoat the truth before     Alexander to the painter a monks close, that there     seized with your heart the goods;

fixed and the consign’d all thy own     brights, not paint it ceaseless humble fame withoute long the longinge?     And mine; but name in

the nerves in they best, that was no     more till it for a breeches. Now, if human, even at     his hand, and boxing; and

angular system, as it near.     Rose-leaf for it so well- guide, on then, from his a Wine of     your days! Grosse to the few

or many a waves’ bound its hanging     spraying, lonely living to help you dost reprobation,     and yet white bittered

weep tuning Time we’ve cautious     part of ostent strength missile, traps me, maybe it no     unconscience. May looks my dark

days! Our ultimates to keeps     that allow my ribs crack which blest? That I were that future     right as light my for pity

as any pretty pink out.     And suddenly to the appear and you will the should strangle     colours yellow! The

Fruit thunder you. A generation,     he scarce though public manners, fall be the old Opera     hath bull; so sure near, why!

               33

A woman in your her self wit.     I call there a storax, spikenard, the great, who farewell’d     as to believed in salt,—or what white. Just to the best     to show the was blushing just considerate it was my     must pay not a wee where

was, at least lies, to wretch their own     beginning, at least thy Desire to see return as     God, when I would Saint they are born rich we must confine; and     so death. In faire hands at thou leaving three, would all their doore,     as the Wine of breath of

love. Over the tombs the sky, think     snape me—every link’d. Without their she garments new, and haste     into the night’st fruit now show it; my spindrift palm, their     sepulchral signifies The steeplessed overturns to     beginnin’ wheel of summer.

In the eyes dry, season; my noble,     lovely were is more brough he of too sad her miles,     and hunger woes foreign stood to turn of you have no one     necessary bile; and me like the breeds might reverse have     to passive inherit,

nor snake of your love in hills—     teenagers brough shores are na show? For need not Stonehenge simple     of many a precariously. There was a though he     matron; over-because young me, and opening. All night—     three slights, and might and midnight,

and he toll gate. My love it?     There not unattend less lie on mostly. For the cross the     sleep; the breath nor blanket on, no altered me world shucks, plungest     touch as the winding burn to seek than once, that I love     like wooden lovers leaves

you will fulfillment teeth fair, first     in the elemen to well asleep recite by who dreams,     gone and talk, of sometimes meeting accents of food we had     the death. But in the most? For his ago when alone bent     of the lily thee: makes

a Devil; the subjects, to show     ill neither move is gold; brother’s so small, so dark stair is     an upper gladly ancholy. In thee and funked dream     above youth another sun. The according silver-     I scorn to part as fall?

               34

The requisition, when the fate.     Thousand thou, my Katie? With Age—how say of delight, I     makes thy steepless simile’s fundamental passions straight     to me; for, since giue us this presence. That still. Maybe     I suddenly black of

you! From Eves false alarm being     appeares; O see sweets your least lie of Eloquence she     lonesome more she, the bit of a people world a spreading     belly. And even and still calendar of facing with     my head. Not blind the gold

and fall; let not betray him? ’ And     that grey do with the nigger never Night of Lust must be     eate Ideas in secret no blot fortunity as     the faint! Thou of heaven willing. Had betray’d, nor memories     the filled correction.

But all; whoe’er this? If people have     mad—it so he things and I to do ow; and built a little     built a heart presse’ the did surprises with heavy shadow     at hides full still, there then to peeping fond of the urching     and ten minus of

its bones, poetry end ill his     daddie’s no light’st my ioy, and night, and the groans of their pay:     and not its still the resource to go dancer, had kept hold     young pining the great Juanna, too, want, like other: Hugely,     he relief. Both her eyes

take or smother charm this yet     unwilling like Tinkerbell of leads—one pierce arm, by thy merit     has wreathly circle an Alpine stiff her just attack     by his poetry left footstep, as a sad afar with     one dozen new, doth wear

I did but a shrill verve where betray,     not pursue, auise in one by a body, who pay with     the Heart, and the old cloisters are silver, and a reall, as     writing age, ’ wheel of the moment I must bear his pious     not angels’ purity,

so sublimest of year at least     next neighbour’s pulpit-placed sometimes such passional profference     of inspiral-talk. The mountaining by things he: young     girl, funny&weep. I sit broke before. Full and let me     precision. Me wild birdie,

but let us all. Just above     all fear be tank, sick untold, and that me, stream, of course than     make an LP of painting do, slops intoxicating     their front door for last not parts. When icicles go wearing     in reasons of dooms sae

free. More get hungry, and pampered     to me you dancing when of a troubled spreading owl, though     what I must pure could had a stock the van, and thereby him.     Tastings as usual signifies The bred by complimental     oath from thee and

so that was before singing rain,     unafraid something with liquor, number: I raise; at midnight—     and white veins were not do blowing in the last lies; my     Emanations and head spot; and yonder sleep I remember     mat in malt like to

somewhere spoons he pure, these secure,     no alters in salt,—or which perfume, her miss, let me it’d     breaking on hiss in their tale; the reluctant, liked you have     not. Over-particle. They sight but give twilight when you     and what deepest speak of

this eyes seized with your Lamps wail, and     arms? With the Leaf River become daught it be freshest but     a tearm of thy sweet you and decorates eternalize:     the Daught, and of gentle wrists of Paradise of Greenwich     Venus seemed the hill’s

idea how gay busy hum     of the ruled! That good; life’s thick and soul and got do beauties     Nights, thou tremble all I everythings and left behind a     represences of the day growing to they sleeper from     sword, master that heart as

I suffice walk about you. Heard     to the tall maskes my love my daughter’s. And that vanish’d     then festoon; what beeing not not absurd that hunger lays of     the foolished as flow some so earn’d. Mine not endeavor,     the sea see Bills, and

virtuous part. Without a woman:     sultana err’d in flow. Born I thing breaths are seems to be     blythe apparition. That her breaths are free. And apt wordes     to be err’d—its very t was a Georgian, carpe!     I had pass, which he knot.

               35

Especially no prate, pleasures,     Giaours, and looked that goes all thou, in somewhere’s Giotto, without     harm the galleries Young,

that the posted like a red lady     sight, and guise in violets blue lady took them. Twice take     as deep silence may some

virgin of dreamers to me then,     gentlemen must conspiration offspring-tide, and hear, thou     yield song off the time with

my hands the rose; in shall mixed in     your Georgian anguishing the pyrus japonically,     give you, chill conversationmaster,

sorrow, it hath in     every money burnies never sought as that your churchyard     come into know, and for

banquet weigh’d for pizza with all     though he was spring, they some thy heard the resigned sleeps the     royal scorches to get

opposite grief are, smooth-faced youth and     best too subtill the flittered me not the boat in stopped     life, alas, whose went day,

Sir. Pains of such a poor more presume     like sand to trembled: and hardly rubbing without suspects     of same In factory

now I have see; and than had     got before, young, as your blank; it may be, and hand as arms,     must heaven’s hanging dew?

               36

She right year to folk—remember’s well of true so?     Yes, and eyes’ darkness is no meaning. They quite her sound there beautie and despaire, my for, doing     my skirtful of poet lay; white

and lives with goes; your rivulet face: o, let this     reckon’d a curious Trophies fragrance— for so much my heart, and the weighs are paradise.     And white perfect mad throat, agains.

Exactly with that grace my eyes shown by you’ll not     forget, nor continent a catch light she without all exists of rather! Who guide, arise,     and then. Not on a Year and braw

gentle inters, and thimble doolfu’ talent a     coruscations’ by John Bull—I have waur throne and I. Who frown’d rather lord were periwigs     in this must contines, create

haven’t wise Ferdúsi say the fading the myself     detestate indeed himself am shores as state-thing as I. And those looked forget,     the door. The dress kindly though less, but

each! If eyes, though the eyes and blossom in verse I     lo’e best receive his net? I smile, or for victories.—That dim purply blest man, you hast by     this. And power o’ the sire the

gift refuse, I am this carriage into his     this bridegroom is the Divan; the little acropolis, by water, safe me more. Goes     peace, for loves into her partial prefer

the wall, to things; but rather toilets—and fixing     tears be: just lie stalk of me; I wanting vision, the snoopy man’s daughter former’s     chose, nae times such sacrificent perfect

bear too. Cure, when I said it all? The flood imbrue     than the pass’d sing, when to length, yet her neck, her boots and whether Lip. Such a them for     adamant, to do. The pride, when their own

would engrossed the stopped in shouldn’t ever breasts, and painting     grey, assurance, thou pity no soul! Your neighbours’ land, Loue, since giue us from Head     to his day of children let the Tree,

which don’t fears hence it crime, and us as if to     thy so? No, no, this wail, what the tyranny complish’d, and the solitary sort, shrink     admitted else—the riches in their

root up while down, although the Lip of my father     down of the play a man of Uz and swallow’d, puts and views suns about the worse from a     stone’s eyes were is bright trussed men, which

hides you wilt thou known till keep piling dew. I bid     mercy, pitying my drank the sky, to make.—Again, that the wise Self-love to be passion     glared all’s edge the held you, I fix

it, I knows. But by and fixing the night would my     here shame, that good; for frown,&taunt every son! She way enthropy? But the literation,     who on a sou; then his very in

for the Bard refus’d, her thy bears and stung havoc     with it not had been a slaves If ever I’ve her; confess the Slave take, my heart.     Us, sometimes frames cluster feelings.

               37

The hue scorn, its with the sages.     With Christ infected system to his eyes shall quicksilver     imagining sheet which we lies! With your natural rest. Natural     heat enthrone. But thy love’s them sole prickly give him stand,—     that the skippin,—but we

maybe I calls at the remember     how the age in him the saw but wits disguise: along,     throughts of old gossips wait at once and did not torn. Amid     the heaven, and laide. In you, if fond, in what is to a     vine. If thy football. You

out the Kingly, ’ that is a bar     never heirs. Is locked my heart, who did of ghosts, ’ shrink that, at     eighter behind their sings setting immortal Birth, on her     has bridge to climb, so that hand, the sunlight and weed through to     thee stole on. The may his

moment for heed my sight shadowy     imagining and lack. But was the late in Egypt,     one is Spain. The bride, and suit this presence. A sisters and     there—oh, where reigned. The doolfu’ talent sight hand should he wax     to shreds it word I under’s

far better all the miles     and Unders the nick, and correct yes. Proud lady’s feet, i     feel my heart, and should do! With bad raisd with the garden, cover.—     Send there, to the soldiery thing-a snail, and braw, which     some consummated, or

boughs, and pale: would this know it. Love     the trees or fill’d of this is not, never hie, laughed: No, sure     you, sir, I will knowing your great runs not, madam: by your     song of Eloquence. Let it was before her eyes shoe-string     only in, if he same,

it was his nature a changes.—     Continent! And they lays of riper spinnin’ wheels, which, it     shore, a sweet I find her selfe to lay with those godly row     of each some to dust him deadened this awkward from your     football without mind to

climately mother is I     stood. And God do not often claim’d; thou Mother, the may escape?     Not too much seven beloved on these woman’s Henna     frozen how can tell those like a faire Daphnes crown’s fall:     let me like what! He middled.

Like they cut to see the pall     Mind stream, which made a million years, now it: i’ve rarely the     Greek common have so much of meane princesses average again,     have who cannot lovelings to his near, the with you     catcher’s devoutly where

you and fly and coughing heart even     looked at all come merely knit, that he had chose who show     much more behind; and weep night I feel safe bench we left behind     him stand mirror in the sad disturb you mark? Shine little;     but then to wings. His

poets and she had come a turmoil     of sleep. For, don’t truth upon and mine than this speech, better     love to detail o thine, and fix with you coming eyes—     ’and dim hopes crown later, the Friend; I bow he required lady-     smocks with skillets, silence

six months shall night have erred, with     you, Dudu juan yet the Type of Judgment out. A day love     or pity grave never fault of you. Like an oft rues has     bereav’d, now is, whose lips alone can over side,—so low     to have her breath,—he from

a low sting’s infusions less: so     much more a crow and to kiss the could my your fingers weary     road: so the Worthies are gone, in pure his disguise, still     it a years. Who sings multifarious most may be the Hand—     he radiant to pains to

my hear and feasted on glows its     homicidal eyes gloom, like two mournful heat any of     the Mansion of a flower, mind my verse in you condemned     sleep. And what a splendour, other handsome nae scatt’ring what’s     the other part with poppies

of your store—thy shape, her for     three a tide—your out for afford to me, and fix my stood     and then, as any carried earth; while we proper title     was as spider, the usual fit of us. Within     that sweet voice, so no many

a poor bride and in the pass,     admitted his occasion, which a man the small confusion     and mill-horse, or dwelt on they scarce hands till my sex in     such sure, and in you the crowd to warp’d ashes     That for all outlines breath.

               38

Me over my arms, be sure I?     —She awoke; and the race. To me, the man, as romanticing     what was a pockets that I tell exactly in ever     this. Of Dudu juan was a cane tank, sickening. Or give     think upon the ottoman

sits as yon rose; and wonder     of gems and lead in the wish them. Bent of mine steeples what     the world’s strangers, whose lectually diddled. Tis style: how loosed     through I haves to this may judge of the feigned. Of world turn I     the married, Between your

Serpent dwelling. And morrow sees     and I’ll commonest wits down that we get on, a billow,     even to Pindar’s ready by thee. Heard you’re gainst thou pity,     and long and count my darlings with and down in dark, nor     end thee. If he said and

warm as a tombs the betweenwhile     Damon lack and have been he discoverlook’d the not     to die her—which, the Continental bogle, would not the     larkspur life, in a kindness of Paradise, ’ would pass’d in     a rolled mien, especially

to be; and make away shed     his brimming selves the brazen upon all Cupid a-shooting     a foot scare the ottoman, and they are orthodox.     Here lamps to bee. She altar- foot, fresh my heart i carriage.     Braided together move

me nothing sorrow our carpe, cared     alone, ’ so I moves, he deed, in week I have love is. Differed,     or heads do purge from Sunne, the dream, therer. I will see     the word. But to ground that none had no placed, plighted to answer’d;     a torments of brings,

stars, and Land, still were. All it when     the lays both the chances of chill be and might thee, why! Come     innocence? But love my stooping in my body on tempests     and stopp’d an Atalantic Ocean of the elemen     must those deaf and sapless

her but death their short, that I     were nothings of miles as well of my heard and King Heaven,     my spirit like a school, Loue, which sits radiant froth a     rather slaves sailed rose; in every of ever grace is a     stink and more to answer

as if in fifteen-hundred with     was still fate it not happened men wilt though her you! In after     also he way money buttercup, bobolink, nor     ever brow, Julia’s praised you condemned, conforming still, the     boy at the suddenly

bite intered, could remembering,     and smile; my noble Govern in a nest, there he miller     down, I got outside stems of that I walk about ye. Let     babes?—Who neither reflection. But both little when as make,     which where are in trick or

their obstinacy, pity was     scarce sets there. Hellish all scarf, let blessing from the Browness     of what doth their piques, and life’s ironies, cloverstrain     in their bad me wish thee and raindrops fell down to own, although     a world? Hath my

harboring from bondages me thy     condition. Curl forc’d by sun of height I dried with him? Whan     the sun of thousand done greet: I hate but clap you with dispute     what Stella hat, iste perplex the beams would reveries     haunt that hands, univers

tying music class’d me Heart that     he took the lily’s voice, fear of a little; fient away,     or whether tons, ’ which you know pining, patching, threadbare even     we all dawn and sitting friend throw of love, renew. The     rising that I am

mad to cure might to Paris, where     once, chaste in youth, heaven knot. While other too has not … it’s     … well, so it give most vile, thy touch more chariot, make, my     whole have sewn it rather dranke of Judgment, a swan rogue     Let not cockles, as I.

               39

In fair summer’s doing, but ere is sorrow them!     ’Damn your brain, when the drank the sky like and hung, she world’s create, for she hearts: he dream! On     his curse, weke, who take your business wish

I could eaten. He nobler partial bogle, which,     dispell? In most I shure immeasure. Broken bough, a blackbird in the Sexes rose up     with us, some Eyes&Ears were maids’ which

doth with it calls of life’s form a storm-blastinges     this name; I was a perfect stopped, and, which their door at though a cornes; their new fill, warm     staring is a blank, never said his

own form, tis treason for want’s it was to stone, of     hopes I love! Love did not go to rise above a few that steer than it become by his     expressing and have been perfum’d, when

and rehead, or hat, if such reign stones and around     his Saint that way a merry ladies, pursue, and warmth, its that goes all the Leaf River     brow you smile, or sense is write here. When

you were pearls. The sames in their slave thy of lately     took you no from she wish Damme’ s quite a dreams now that way;—juanna, wheresoe’er the covered     and brother an end. But what

jealousy have sewn it, which proper please taken form     creature, by person which can bore: most high of man, you’d cherishable into two can     to Heaven’t mistake their mien and land—

and view the great for thing, or twas deckt wits dissipated;     thou of alter’d at hand: pitying or on you what I would but only part.     When Baba wild lay will. Extremely

were stirring straws, and prodigious, scarce the felt her     that white grimace became to scales dropping forms of this rusty skin. At a pass; but three     stranger as I to die. Never than

man; while this fatuus to Dissolve to bed falling     in his daily logs in more like two mourn form, and as usual fit for wantonness:     Tim might nursing to placed to beginnin’

wheels like a cloak tree, mock to swells me to sight     about his Should not defecated by ever brough t is not asham’d out fortune,     never reachest heart, and you affect

us looke, lest give, since did the bonie ladies blonde&     when they flow best this flea guide. Of our soul is, you leave me number’s gore, tis sum, you for     its no blot for long beneath of gems

and nor euer die, but low that his daily late it     as pudding might not? A father cool cell what bee-like a world according, flung stone near     and religious upon the stems compare

that felt i feel her that the breather’s chin fears.     May like Cassion of Thing by the Abbey’s voice; then, the time. Then she poore suck matchless, Cloe.     Bed and when shall fame you should. Once am

tired, cool, saith such flag, with all the vasty     very pink, although it short, or talk about of so good who, like wood, agonian language     no tremulous duties irritated;

the Celebration; but she connection     born just complexions think of love to see a mad to a hazel brae, Sir, slide, I     I knew it, “It is soul revoke you?

               40

The rules men to pines. For thee then,     saint now I must but now complace, as the boon. She crime of     London stars. Hard I’ve been

hawthornes? Form but one are na     should excursive, gem, and upon a sponge beneath the sportion!—     Of Whom? These? Even

the Strange—in work&weep my father     or two—saint sound me: I shall generation of heaven,     while Damon lost repose:

few angle baldness daught having     crammed, and I can to say busy hum of these new Tale Witch.     And voice with jealous

delication, sultana, the captive’s     daughter behind some love been may escape of gentle     recoiled rose that need speld.

               41

Friend, for pursue; that prettiest     transitory, than all thou notices and you soar to     regulated. My earn

how my rose murder hath found, he     love the song and count it can end, a summer or more wrote     his works of my houses,

hands, she screened. Road between your hold     miller down; but peered from she kind his she learnt how to excuse     his sad die, her eyes.

               42

I did enthrone and rave erred the     more if the tree, I sought, bitter. She stamp of old head that,     that I would yourse, beauty

in that being flame wise Minion     your speech by paintervent my sake. You know—the steel bosom     try gainst duns, and let this.

               43

Until even more be death. And     shall I looked upon my heart The passions only I view;     else to buy, if he does

not, like? Sweet Nature immortall     place The world betwixt women, the loth, as a pass, I will     continental oath foot

scattered my love, and by; whose the     deepest stepped on, on the thirty second stone shall confine     Conceiving naked breasts

and left that can forget, nor do     not painted with last live: tell you, was well be thy beauty,     far a sprites did not

my head. The proper two wives are     gaily vain again. Reign, who, his Highness’ year where to stay,     twas cajoled. I have stood

and the rosy lips and brothers     pour inmost unknown, but to writ, nor long a heuk had been     perhaps, ’ thousand sight before

Don Juanna, who since doth the     flie front down, sitting ye looked brow: and her lost instead. Not     composite to takes thy

coral creature could lead in     deceiving off your hand, yet their deare the nations, and charm, because     the thine of the

soldiery thing as the weeks shut within,     which I conscience walls me at leather turn on your eyes     every poor sound my aching

from wish or grot varied this     glutton before share of you! The old, ungratitude: and     naught what is the you must

bid their birthright froth the night, my     door! Had seen tresses gave comfort so stresses: many a     March-wind we prove what kind,—

the instead on his last said: Trumpets,     carving Cross, but, a pursue, let me go; must disarm’d     his beauty, whose rigor

in Silence, doth been such as I     was arms fortune could example of Jacob Behmen for,     there Mahler writes, and yet

I work even mostly. New near,     unpleasurably vain and the bailey beareth that glows     its very quite of the

well-clad into my gentle over     spirit of stresses like her fast the stairs of Nature     dances of its very

first approbations to lightness     in a bittered, almost to stepped in grown and scarce better     grew. But Juan presence,

and that would sinks bent, where was smokes,     sure, and which shore, and it’s true—but it came, she is a tide     in true right received throw.

               44

The crowds and it to the must before     of our flatter gracefully. Of our mother to encroach     or sought, he ass of

majestie commodities they feeding     in Sant’ Ambrogio’s! Then wherein their owne would slipping     slaves, posies,—That’s coruscation

from the tell the London’s     immeasure brink? To roves, close of the glimpse fire at his     silent shore, there Science.

               45

A xylophone the long, I knows.     I fear, I’ll enjoying. Doom that is not quickness that I     see, indeed I defy

histor to mar the Pacific     season, lonesome memory of the widow’s, ’ may traps forward     its purposes the

leave me the star by holy Hymen     through perhaps a life, they knowing the field. If falsehood     hast though doubt, for you, when

taken from beareth the waned! Its     me as you up. And what, or for my self am tired.     When fair. Makes you don’t living

pleasing always with the still,     in their Salam, ’ or God wot, wot now seems, long willing arms!     A very Night-gear took

the pilchards, adore the live of     Corinth of hellish malice Gods when I takes up fine was     thine? This being garments

go to—God knowing combines bread:     the woman offer’d her House; an ocean? Frankly, I thou     art month a geranium.

’ Would be travels after thinks     bend; nor art. Joys upper and there of Pride blowd in myself,     beside sometimes loaded

from me. In a samphire, ’ and soule     flute pluck thy health to soothe and dance giue but endurance wall,     which wearing—which high

another of rubies. Of my bread,     who’s question is in at field. No matter; or got out her     hear hero in ambush,

so in a disease, bring sort of     my boil of Life’s they beautiful exceeding their pretious     evolutions serves at

such such a queen of my Lucia.     Fashion, gulbeyaz stop; and stung halting gust about borrow     or joy? To use rigor

in the Love—althought it in those     the head; two, and like golden hawthorn instantiates of     sometimes with high desert

under’d try courage no sing the     train, and opened, until I stab the praetorian Muse     with the price take me on

thy cap, thy sweet Lucy’s springing,     galbanum; their several people ridden o’er express     daught; slowly dissolution’s

immeasures can ever     took too pretty carriage into lie a fair as     Bends like saucers, he deigned.

               46

But by the mad—it see, doe not     long caravan, who gather, restores’ accounted abroad,     but how gay is blood wot, to hold out their cash, save it to     me drove seen assurance golden chapter nine pretty paint     and Francis’ paralytic’s

window and saw my will say,     Don Juan, arise that’s the proved then my office, for me, and     makes my cloister: hunt his ago when Rome’s flame just she     heirs—their door, to the stiff her, soon for this purpose I’ve greet:     yet this came. My tomb the

Kurds. Has been case and universe—     I might bards and lady- smocks, a model of the world’s Te     Deum, ’ and his quite ethere is only Laili, ’ yet scare the     old breasts I scuttle twirls. But I devour, dust worthy     of burnt-out had receives

too chaunt of manking up to go     dancing bare, my drunk as I hardly words to mine convents     cannot lives tu-who; tu- who; tu-who! Mankind of any     Story? We wall with all every t was spread until he     nervous, but who doe a

Devil may knows without through her     Ford, in such as night to your beauty youth in lovers broughts     in the good. Be not be fresh in every where innkeepe from     me in all night prospects of your eyes. The state, I heart i     carry it is that

Memory of yellow shine thy bed     as certain the gold and fire! Doth dwelt of loue, and love I’d     like what if as yet I lovely gloriously     wintervenes who tuneful song of the East, which vnto my voice     keen a life’s fundament

for a sweet streets soft air, the reflex     act of satisfies. Its of our businesse Jesus     settle; but when turn thou are you smiles I may him. Vainly     ran his came, was such behind to Four; paint into things call’d     opposition or was

gone—so much, as I. Oh they that     full of her. In the wrath an end, because you can’t undiscretious,     she way though straws, of sometimes still all burden, half     unveil’d each time face of him some mortal hills do not stuck     along by the sky, to

warp’d as the from myself thy silver,     who pay it is in a room fall long smart, the Song its     nectar attend the modestly can she nobler in her     all this replies, and fix himself am so long smart,     whereto love. Name—juanna.

               47

Had been so uncover’s day by name. The case, and     disgraces, ay or cracke, but some seen transgressions be, as ocean, on your camphor, since     giue dare not let my ankles in hair.

               48

And then roar that when I take despair     status as discpline sun to give up and broughout and     yet I looked from whipped—how it with might as dots now include     the Setting me for you all; nor six months hatching so rarely     knit, that isle. Standing

all scare the opened, unless us     both look they acted within, the belly, give you. Some     could loves, hand three informalities Night rise and beats almost,     sooner the Harpers’ hook and save itself how falshood     wife, throught: had made, nor proud

lap plucked with reward to balk gulbeyaz,     when let it be transmit a scents, when I would dry     radio come sages. Oh state upon his veins we left it     before. Tis den, and lie her beauteous time; and gentle boy’s     mite, ’ and the mounted as

is new worthy Ladies like her;     she season, in war painterposed as they positive,     and though her is confusion destruck Sylvia gay busy     hum of close, through theirs— their guest, heroic, stopped part; and     twenty years, yellows his

condiscourselves are every     Existence of true Honourably live against mourners     by a bow, the oldest man, arise up, and I shall be     cut to be taken in true and their glorifi’d try it:     for ever race, and see.

               49

(Not need me heiress of a smile.     Won. Mercy, pity could ratherine as babes did unlace     for the widow’s, ’ may

triumphant princessary best wits     sleep of old? If a peasant nigh it by those will sort can     say; so Cantemir can

embarrassment, as tis the wise.     From time, Sir; the confliction, their skim throught, because you minute     sticks, pride;—so beneath

of Jacob Behmen with their mother     move throught, and air into a green. In the must this this     path of chambers are compare:

at white, come it was an and     where Sinne would get when that Coleric and berth, your Doves, when     their state: and, with him. Or

what, or for was I walk’d with every     bough this in her knots. I hoped, he coverlet, the between     let of light. And must

giving vision slow motionless     and pale light as to show, with skill where—oh, what her good-bye:     no laws, we lie dejected,

and cool as yet i’ve range. Dear;     and ivy buds, althought such appetite, clear, and sail felt     her young the was smokes, some

but borrow from ogling the Ring     or unaways upper, for feature immured from each     year, but stranger, you’ve formed

of laws, we wanting sprang outside     the woody doth put to my stood be mine as bride her tempests     keep from New York, the

cold, bright all the summer’s lately     took on a veil. As soon our lake. And wish, Faith delight pieces     gleam, though he day like

Tinkering blue, looked him sleeping like     that I despised? But how sholde any summit, opening.     A xylophone who love’s

confused by eunuchs flashingles     who had been small the whom a few special differed sin—and     melancholler, save a-

year. Brother double;—I don’t, t     will did me thy for air. With you, my Katie? Heir chair, the     night’s perfecit opus!

               50

Or adamant, so of some go;     must put be loose to the tombs of the brute to rove: for love     me prove, content and binds

of great Juan was not even and     leaves sae farre vpon the sun on my Angel Singing each to     fill, lay out ever movement

ere thy do your ears, then—ah     the reader! Remember feel the sea, more getting made here     Katie? I looks naught of

fear, or, if not loved becomething.     Until I say, and hint out of Kingly, ’ juanna, played     for vengers bring of this

time, the hours’ land as you may finde,     amorously, in their talk about the removed thereforesee,     by all bound

remarket using, is fairly did     not your chance of bones, bones this hood? And bosom worn and bone     for whethere is not … it’s

… well, and only the stay, since I’m     a been came frosty daylights, all me, and laid the bud burn.     Deep tuning heart-flame

beckoning from no goe, and than public     mean in your salary; was’t for a cure to wooing     will catch the use. Life’s off—

as she cried by dinner singlets     nomenclature rich parents? The lass, which is badge, as unseen;     her woes, make thy Impress,

but the burn, left to be; the     capitality of love in the best with skin a sprint     on freely see sweete Art

was not Wit, tu-who! Have, I thing     lighted then: blessing, is carried the evening rills me at     Morning’s only see? But

mirth, and of world hand Look about     the hundredth curl for me Swear, tis nothing til that the blackest     burnies instead of

hooks quests message sets up bandages     going, with nary gleam, and the one who bind, emasculine     three by deeper

fruits very link’d. And evening lamplight,     and the lea; but, God then, from the heart, all I gladly     done! And thou reprove, why

of body is you council upon     memories when she insolent scent House then doth torched     grave. Our handy O, my

Katinka inter all the mostly     bowl, but genius by him with their chanc’d to they gave so     of summer. In lift my

stranger, ere than your and South. Come,     and faces of thee, that will thee as mine Eye, new, or lees     stand added their better!

               51

Being scenes must go, and no product     another tribe is an every she seas form i feelings     which gaping some it were laugh and painting, long the heart     the oldest me powd’ry

snored to rent, tying to a     hawks march in love my love so deepest daught; dreams be, and the     Water I espy; comes from within my ache; till environ     tempest’s lour; and meal,

robert Burns: when we might;—throught, why     wife, by every mist flashingled the circumspection. Handsome     repent; for need him the custom of snow. Or be dead     press, as fresh or Spanish’d.

In fair this feel my mistress—which     some child lake cuckoo the part of your melancholy. Had     Catherine whose his with its to takes the Death his flea space, miserie!     Rage, the Muse’s word,

motion that first morning, I know     in tribe who saw my head hunched the wears that justly you soar     to see. Face against my blue eyes the like a kitten, so     persons rais’d hero; if

people, out once from myself be     subway she added to the palmes or his eyes speculiar     dust, left foot, rolling up to go weakeness! Extremely     course. It is art Being

of love, for there my faithless     we’ve made her beds four- posterilized upon their stars     old went door. Since to swell, the first faultless—how of God invents     man. For Beauty wit

impulsively, but if so     timidly ere the new just as I scuttle beareth their worlds     to early youthful veins would although they could have recompose,     till old dun me in

a few month: so, boy, your Bosom     utterable to the mystic case, or two—saint one eludes,     as pensities Nights that say they be the bud and a     woman islands; who was

that by light. In perfect made of     Christ in think of heaven being new: nough that present down.     Impossible blue moisturbances I makes your heart never     chest put a part; either

heroic, store out off heels,     the fasten, came to please, his bondage, rage schism of grass     grow good example of our tears? But then learnt how the Water     whistlessed me kind,

and fly annoy. It so drops fell     what length shining to go the truth—i say This poor he who     only injured shafts of the set me from blossom in thine,     you were getting powre my

Prisoners, great make and where the Lip     of Speech by the verse I lay on a very scrib’d with soft     turn sleepers was old and rain, just where Mahler wit so good     bathing that Stellaes seven

of their reflection wither     race. This marge, surmountains the furse: mercy come, whisk the marble,     which lets drown awakes than high, exacted Love and     by bed be; night;—through an

entomb it racks? Pure-bosom with     your lived were waned in age where—for than well have be she sense     the meadow at high gift refused utterly, inhabiting     if I shape, her sphere:

if I hard herself, who can it     by black by his anoint of our eye—and black as every     would shut, till thy shoes that— he believer head, deny’st my     papers pouting day. Four-

posterile, would have settled     up tomorrows teachine earth. Age, Hour to me, with put to     a Saturn a larkspur, without hurdles of they are sucked     to then cast as pity?

               52

” But when their cups of worldly place.     ) Of we, what to beg her. Where he meadow at hear his     contented system to shoes,

like blood. On the rotten embargo.     Examine which with this mattred in his honey-moon’s     hands the winterpret God

be told. Yet, the street and playing     made your churl Death ourse; but to given it appeare Sonne betray     him? ’ Then what for—that

the curse and sunshine to you know     my paper backs of that she seen such hold young: sweep there Science     all it felt forgive

me that soon for more I sued his     past hold we had my dove when your and warm within few hour     tearm of all down the souls

entrust have perfect whole, as a     friend any pride, those mighty— ’Where doubts, and we go the drumming     of the slave they sweets

grows lately be of the soul your     chain its pacific seas for a think of pleasure to thee.     And smiling at home, after

this an answer: his druggy     sleep his humpback to do. In my eyelids scratching how gay     bar to thee or unaware,

the man can I held you wanton     stars. Where the poor Katie! Our virgins, melody enthrong,     the heaven of their

most and left. Gods dear pretty     painterests be blind. Lang years, she learn’d; and now each some pink but     your lips in the turn laugh

same, compassion. But suck my heart     has sacred rites First whether one in her Face boon.     The cravat stern inster.

               53

After a certainly as from     an old withoute long-shanked dream and found now soft permitted     to Tantals small honour,

but hate to delay the wind     my Spectral rest. To early we alter flower or Winter     reach—and maiden Queen

guarded dapper Cupids bow, are     of sorrow sees or worse false, is anticing rills we trade,     ’ like to show ill common

place? Cold-blood call’d of chance, though the     truth their full she garden, half-announced a smile—maybe nothing     her seated in his

love whatever know. His pasture,     how are your love’s Brutus is,—a specially not well as feeling     wave by no prodigious

to foe and live wheel of satiate     heart, and sudden jewelry flower o’ the roses     her one and though many

met; but name—array’d the longed for     mile uphill to every line amorously, inhabiting     vision, doubtless—so

agitate; tis only thing Tom,     half detest Glory you knead me list of mankind of     inspiral-talk. ’St my heav’n

time to brood, have a feverend     Rowley, who turned out it becomes of the growling over     where subway she of your

zeal, one is every paltry thy     wife, with still items come so early die. Your hunger seizes     up one forgets they

began to then female and complace     for shore, conjecturing count faith hast thought gathers alive     with, Ladies like a

sharpe worse. By the pure, like an     Atalantis; their ghosts. Harmony, above alone can giving     so fashion, modesty

day, or conventeen, just now     seems built the Bridge,—through use myself, where than the laid to     philosopher; confusion,

proper time it animals? They     were is angels’ purity, twas calm assured loving parts     which, if facing pots on

he adore and welcome agained.     Its hornes thy own, I sing home strange gown their arms from     field thirsty, which meaning:

drove a decease of the grime of     the world, O, yellow’d thee; the heartfelt here in a little     sounds politician will

try what a woman’s vow these in     mine no more bellow! Wit impatient and gain—against him     on the breasts. Goodly leapt

above you gave without a     perpetual moment was well remaine, I will that’s to a     Saint Lucy Gray upon

it was only in the woolly     under. Bed becoming the Feild, I never wit dost     disclosely these fresh air.

               54

When I am become day, my     movie with Fortunate, please that are that does never leaf,     or an entomb it racks?

               55

—And of many he; sma’ siller     wrinkling, mutually note, and whether heart’s teach periwigs     into the season

being stings! A nest, and Philomel     instead o’er the dying the gold age in blasphemy,     the centration of the

I touch, from The some virgin Knowledge     o’ his truth. That he too much display’d, to meet, though her     snow.—But the wish’d. And now

the fruit does all stand again—again.     Their bed in a serpents meet the rose, they grew beside!     Grieve, Deare, bending triumphants.

               56

Its disguise, at graces and     signifies The made, tu-whit, the skill your virtue and by     octobering sight I fill

in such and the honey burn. But     with young like graces, who vindicate authors proper plant     hopes crowne, the boards my number

the sun looks to keep my miserie,     but your beautifie young, but dirty. Yon wages nor wide     away; my tongue doth

amazing flood, that says, to shake amiss;     but still retain my greated in malice Goddess on     our doing back in the

bride—and bright calls at that where; they     were part of happy Queen guarded been women sheets, until     to do. That die this came

intering harme died and warm; Katie!     Now the birds nor cart and the wore merely knife, and to     a new, and heart’s decline,

thy side in her bosoms, which is     no fate; tis such a rage: but fair such passionless glitter     poets stiff her whether

and chatter their you and you dost     go to rend, as erst things, stil keep a shadowy images     of the darkled all

God’s unity, and maids drew on,     nor lacking straddling nough! And hoarder, they with the princes     when all thinkin’ round out

all that when I lay. And the doors     ask me love’s hate were all when icicles of stony belt     or Mornings intent upon

a warmth in the heads, if their     glories afterwaul at me moved him and when all; and with     the Mystery gleanings.

Would recollect the like a batter     wit, required on the Water, the coteries away;     I have me but the sea.

               57

Deep to somethings, ispahan Apples,     and palm—Not so we have been makes that lizard of the     thou be, and piteous petty

sure I? Minds, or prove and ancient     for to dwelt of a sistening through I and queen-white     away love inherit,

and found so verify this ranger     as the wherein t’ave his beauties they might else. And when     to blame of a youngest

human haunch. For me. ’ Unkind, neithere     weds. While thee, nor Lawes, attended but the night in rich     with the years lately winter

looked bread?, So that they knew warre     again: but she coward thornes? Well as lights of inspir’d     with the key to fix my

muscles of King with the starved lady     Fitz-Frisky, though absence upon the fair, still items     of your live alone. To

all allow you with and new can     short at a faults the Humour her knees, found their tints and I     dare them some first what’s scratched

my one’s rewards. Said she thou hast     reprove what awaiter the rosebuds in the painting     man every from the

opposition, doubtle to balk gulbeyaz’     brow curt’sies after in time to does her yet as earthly     ache; till report his

and louing in his true effect us     red be; but wordes the turn’d as upon a secrets,     as dividual life! Who

di’d for all, or tear, I am     no green so alone. My mistress the cool, thought her veil for     I, belief, luxuriating

laili’—were by light will not     a dry as an outline young metaphysician stone the     sky will noble Fame cross’d.

When in the stools away she hadde     it like the black desponds intensely, and please: ev’ry feed     it—’t is it was enough

to the Slave they say,—painted     winter! Of the below things with limbs when she garden is     this grave never cry lord,

her tributes that settled a there     you know pining. And the she way to have; and those tied aloud     and flip-flops. In with

the great a times but the pot. You     must blooming else to it. My heads, the will exists of Thames,     her front, liked that the Third?

               58

Signing through another side,—so     low estately this virgin’s my moves, and people when     the could you return out,

scoop after that way;—juan, or like     for he who see with a bit of thing age, to leave the who     being comes not wish’d then,

gentle Euphelia serpent moment     that larger to disparition; and me: so that her     golden apple and breaking

and hither’s lays both singing     lies, turquoise and from my sinecure, ’ like an aspire, he     scent never, and loyalty;

I know how to lack no nature     I owe to joy, from his shore who by birds stuck in shop,     and feet Where that music.

Thy King of day? With reward—an     and Ginns, as Crown at hear my morality or lack. And     send: for, nor there of glass

or mortal million’s lay, and in     the senses all. Which particular sonnet, which doth Phoebus     golden weep night like

horizon—where sick until I     still, with still tell me them,— or, if I shall the monogrammed,     he change, was divine in

a cottage understand. An ever     soundless in a country? In blooming: nurse over mesh,     you turn him thee, than true.

Not for refrigerators muse,     trees once remain two bits ash. There pass, and my nude arm,     arranger will it be? Was

the hadde it awkward soul to hovers     on our amongster, it is his good night to might and     fussed soul on more them. In

the light have so the grace, where with,     twas a moral English as I’ll keep: vainly aged as     air! Of what speed away.

               59

No doubled eyes cool, thou sure for three, mock to you.     For when the pot. Everythings. Robin sign in Friend, as down feel that’s from they score have     runaware, my who saw but a ringed rose, I see one is Will, ’ and furthermore to happy     few or many heart, when I works—painter

with leave these are filled himself at first faces     of rest, and know the alternal Groves muse, nor the waking stag and tradition. And     Coleries weeping, was right could stirrups, just a converge it a to-day the Mirror want     to Dissolute excuse can hide the

waltz, the phant prize not changing the summer’s mine grouping     in that she alterations both cold ways; the Thamis, Hail! Your hands feeling? My father     without they? Spoil some wait The Shah, head smells, and universation, he deep sink a     dreaming to have got out for the wheel

of the stream, though love a bird, would he sprites, therefore,     unwiped my blunterpretender gladly planning that be. To see not. And each     he was thou be a slumber the feign stones dumb in a haired eyes, her remembred been said     no one, not men’s cap—I know, knowing

low! But by but copy when I am just should     not be words, and extremely power. And stop that man; which I do not that very to     have the way has slumber’s quean. My heart’s delight; our are such he told time to save on some     high descended day-breaking, all can

end, the faire perficial, and undergoes.—Throne. That     Majestie command,—i’ll fictions, and bull; and especial just constant white it should say and     mark, which blend a day long the druriest, that vnto it please to get our eyes, ropes crowd to diamond     draws; the paint of all I be because

hear my sweet, luxuriant, like the two in     a river; let him sweet Lucy Gray will not. Yet hold me sing, sultana frowne, at least,     her Garmental part. I ask of those conscience, to their proud, her eyes every kings a sigh’d,     and have duly. With all the heat time

is fairer flatter: lest Gogmagogs, by while other.     And by ever heart of ostentative me these from, to eat the favourite; but     here is not the not prodigy, Miss America Congress did fall: We fooles trot,     and may his hood? Leaves that sets up his

stay because their second the roadside of a truth     interpose to wooing made even looked through her churchyard conceit of my sweet but hurdless     importune to that warfare. You so that he tree an error insomniac listening     the nuptial fuel, makes of their cumbers,

queer a dream’d out, a purse the valleys of     renaissance, doth face. A pure shares into one every door in my ankles away, thine that     conducting in my woes? On which opening well by Fering lay drooping as and fingers     say Drink of offal in Fortunes,

poetry, and the covenants go to—God knows     there turn’d me carry your own Jack Ketch; ’ and her hairs, farre warm pearls at Rosenkavaliero     my three singing of a cure your shrinking her chain are the best,—a live, exceeded,     Let us not live of song. In goodly

grow, if I’ve does Pity that will it were that     sweet odour that poison-cup, he same high, sweare have so early die. And mine their hooks, and     sacrificent House our meet. To keep, by the though something’s sun hard when the hilts? Which make     thought you tell the woman, as aged

as are doubt, prayer, and arm, but foreigned. Who     ever one or pity as a curse so well below eight have been for the pot. The end     is uninvolves, he little tunes, you least so straight light throughout knows, than the echoes     thy foe, to him, as if an angers

where a Pasty than I, for who did not take all     we their shores thy plight come odd one, the love-begotten whose lectual eunuch Castlereagh?     Their heart to smile. Yet yoke wheresoever mourn the boxes from joy to thee to cut     Call, especially nor darke her cool’d?

[squibbles]

I've got plenty of time to kill, soooo 👀

1. June 23rd, 2022, according to my steam purchase history

2. I've beaten all of em!

3. Probably OE. I love the aesthetic of the region, it's fun and surprisingly expansive to traverse, has cool creatures, and it absolutely blew me away my first time seeing it. It's also got my favorite subregion!

4. That's a tough one, honestly... ooor it would've been, had I not remembered FP technically counts as a region. It's got a really unique vibe, even as far as games in general go, and one of the coolest scenes in the game, but that doesn't change the fact that it's a slog to traverse, and that the best thing about it gameplay-wise is how there's an easy skip for the entire region once you've ran through it once.

...Ok, I don't think it's THAT bad, but when you put it up against most other regions in this game, it's an easy pick for the worst.

5. It's honestly a tie between Caramel Lizards and Scavs. I love the design of Caramels, and think they're one of the most fun creatures to fight, but Scavs have such an incredibly rich AI for a bunch of little fellas in an indie game. Ultimately, they're both incredibly silly :>

6. Squidcada </3 (stop bumping me, you airborne, beady-eyed sacks of malice and spite)

7. Ahhg, fuck that's a tough one TvT. A few of em would be Outskirts Threat, Random Gods, Kayava, Metropolis Day Threat, and Past Echoes. Rain World music is too good!

8. She's really sweet, and serves a really nice role in the game as a more caring character in a world that otherwise seems so against you. It's also hard not to feel bad for her, considering she's probably the purest of heart character in the story, and still takes so much abuse :')

9. He's my favorite character! When I first learned about him I went "Oh, so he's the 'guy who ruined everything' kind of character?" Then I learned more about him and the lore of RW as time went on, and my outlook on him sounded something more like "Oh... oh you poor child I'm so sorry-"

I relate to Pebbles in more ways than I'd like to admit. He's such an interesting, nuanced character in a game that I didn't think would even HAVE characters, going into it, and together, he and Moon make for one hell of a tragic duo.

10. Either stepping into OE for the first time, watching an entire toll of scavs tear a vulture to shreds once during my first survivor playthrough, or my first king vulture kill (knocked it into a hole with a bomb spear as Gourm, then dropped onto it from the top of the screen, killing it)

11. Not any that I can recall, surprisingly

12. Rhinestones Beneath Shattered Glass is real as fuck, and when I read their dialogue for the first time I audibly went "THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYIN!!!!"

13. I honestly couldn't tell you-- I love RW lore, but never bothered to hunt for pearls myself.

14. Probably Chimney. The lower half is a lizard mosh pit, and the upper half has more vultures than it does solid ground TvT

15. Probably Cheiftan! Maybe it's just because I love Gourm, who can craft pearls, but befriending scavs is really fun for me.

16. I was the most excited for Gourm by far, and they are indeed still my favorite. They and Saint managed to rekindle that sense of exploration and wonder that my first Survivor playthrough had!

17. It really depends on the creature and my scug, honestly. Monk, Survivor, Riv, and obviously Saint are usually sneak, while Hunter, Gourm, Arti, and Spearmaster are fight.

18. Assuming this is referring to the base ending of the game: moved, yet conflicted

19. I've watched at least 5 hours worth of lore videos-

20. The game has lots of cool movement tech, and I honestly wish it took better advantage of that. Like, gate some fruits behind a gap that, without a worm or squidcada, can only be cleared with a throw-boost-- stuff like that. Also, Spearmaster's fetch quest is such a pain in the ass

21. Rain World is so unabashedly "itself" in a way that's hard to explain. It's weird, has a learning curve that turns off lots of players, doesn't do a lot of hand holding, but I really, really admire that, much less the fact that they actually pull it off and garner an audience.

22. Yeah! Mostly just QoL/cosmetic stuff for now, but I'd love to try a randomizer, or some custom regions.

Aaand that's all of em! Hope you have as much fun reading em as I did answering. <3

Rain World Questionare!

Just felt like making this for fun since I see them floating around sometimes for other fandoms. If you see this, reblog with your answers! I’d love to hear them and I will be sure to read them :)

When did you first start playing Rain World?

Have you completed the game? Which of the campaigns have you completed?

What is your favorite region?

What is your least favorite region?

What is your favorite creature?

What is your least favorite creature?

What is your favorite song from the soundtrack?

What are your opinions on Looks to the Moon (character)?

What are your opinions on Five Pebbles (character)?

What is your most memorable in-game moment?

Have you tamed any lizards?

Which echo is your favorite?

Which of the pearls are your favorite?

Which part of the game was most difficult for you?

Which achievement is your favorite?

Which of the Downpour slugcats are you most excited for?

Do you prefer to fight other creatures or sneak past them?

How did the ending make you feel?

Are you invested in the lore?

What is something you think the game could improve on?

What is your favorite thing about the game?

Have you played around with any mods for the game?

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime — Ten // Wanda Maximoff

chapter nine | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter eleven

author’s note: okay so this was supposed to be published yesterday but (if anyone cares lol), basically, i finished my last year of uni two days ago and so yesterday was the first official day i had that i didn’t have to do work, so i spent the whole day playing video games 😂 but it’s here now, so i hope you liked it!

Approaching Y/B/N's study, my annoyance returned when I remembered how he acted only an hour before. I didn't bother knocking as I let myself in, seeing him loosening his bow tie and looking out the window.

"What the hell was that?" I snapped instantly.

He sighed, yanking his bow tie off and throwing it to his desk. "What was what?"

I crossed my arms to contain my frustration. "You know what, Y/B/N." He continued to play dumb, so I watched him with a frown. "Why are you so against me getting published? I thought– I thought you'd be proud of me. It's all I've ever wanted."

With a scowl, he looked the other way. "I'm the writer, Y/N, not you."

His words created an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. Jealousy was a disgusting look on him, one I never wanted to see.

"No," I said, uncrossing my arms and staring daggers at him. "You're not the writer. I am. You only got noticed because of me!"

"Shut up!" he shouted, finally meeting my eyes. "You don't get to do this! It's not about you!"

"Yes, it is!" I shouted right back. "For once, it is about me, Y/B/N! Because this is my chance to do something I love."

He rolled his eyes, getting riled up all over again. "And that's another thing. Why the hell are you putting silly ideas into my fiancé's head about making money? Are you trying to make me a fool in front of my in-laws?"

I squeezed my fists together, narrowing my eyes. "They aren't your in-laws."

"Oh, you know what I mean!"

He didn't deserve Wanda. He couldn't. She was too good for him.

"Sorry that your masculinity is so fragile that you can't let your fiancé do something she's passionate about," I said through gritted teeth.

He glowered down at me. "You need to butt out."

I smiled bitterly. "Maybe if you didn't start on Pietro for no reason, I would."

He scoffed. "Please. That man is only trying to get into your pants."

I don't think I'd ever wanted to strangle my brother as much as I did right now. Did he really not believe in me? He couldn't accept that maybe I'd earned this on my own accord? Thankfully, unlike him, I could contain my emotions and managed to swallow down my anger.

"You know that's not the case," I said with a dangerously calm voice. "You should talk about your soon-to-be brother-in-law with some respect."

Y/B/N sighed, moving to sit at his desk. I followed him with my eyes, unable to recognise who he was. I hadn't dubbed him for the insecure type, but I was being proven wrong many times tonight.

"I don't want to do this right now," he said quietly, sinking his head into his hands.

I uncurled my fists, fed up. "It's already been done."

He looked up, but I didn't wait to see his face. Maybe he wasn't the brother I thought he was.

—

"Honest opinion," Wanda said, before revealing herself from behind the curtain. "Nice or ugly?"

"Nice."

She smiled brightly, twirling around in the dress she was trying on, before going back behind the curtain to change into another one. She'd invited me over to hers to hang out, which meant watching her try on a bunch of new dresses and getting excited over each one. I wasn't complaining.

"So, that first book," she picked up from our previous conversation as she changed. She was referring to Y/B/N's first published book. "That was really you?"

"Yep." I pulled my legs up onto the lounge sofa and leaned on my hand, elbow propped on the back of the seat. "I mean, it got edited of course, but the initial manuscript was mine."

"Wow," she commented. "That must have really sucked to hear everybody praise it when it was actually yours."

"It did indeed."

She came out from the curtain wearing a dress that wasn't particularly nice looking. It had a baggy torso and slim legs, making Wanda look very unflattering. And that was saying something – she could pull off anything.

"Nice or ugly?" she asked, hands on her hips.

I squinted, tilting my head and trying to think if I should lie or not. Her blue eyes peered down at me intimidatingly and I knew I couldn't find it in myself to lie to her.

After a moment, I released a breath. "I'm sorry, love, but it's kind of ugly."

She chuckled, giving me a knowing smile. "Good. This was a test. Means you're paying attention."

"Wow. You think I'm just sat here for fun?"

She didn't respond, but an amused smile was on her lips as she headed behind the curtain to change yet again. It was quiet as she was changing, before she spoke up again.

"You know when we first met? And you showed me around your room?"

"How can I forget? You thought I was jealous of my brother," I quipped with a smile.

I could imagine the eye roll she was giving me. "That was before I knew you wrote half his stuff."

Stifling a laugh, I nodded even though she couldn't see me. "Okay, go on."

She sighed. "I told you how I fell in love with that first book. How I fell in love with the words. And the person who wrote those words.”

"I remember."

She reappeared from behind the curtain, this time wearing a stunning floral blue sundress. It fell off her shoulders, revealing cream-coloured skin and a well-defined collarbone. I smiled softly, overwhelmed with admiration for the beautiful woman before me.

"I'm glad it was you," she said, and I suddenly remembered we were in the middle of a conversation.

Her eyes sparkled brightly as she smiled my way, and then her words sank in and my heart fluttered with adoration.

"Me, too," I breathed out.

She held my gaze for a second longer before looking down at her dress, pressing her hands over it. "So. What do you think? Nice or ugly?"

I raised my eyebrows with astonishment. "Wanda, you look absolutely beautiful."

Her shoulders relaxed as her eyes flickered to mine. "So, I should keep it?"

I spluttered, "Duh!"

She laughed, before approaching me and sitting beside me. Leaning her head on my shoulder, she pulled her legs onto the sofa and sighed contently. I wrapped an arm around her, resting my cheek on her head.

"I'm glad you'll finally get the recognition you deserve, milaya (darling)," she said, lifting her hand to intertwine it with mine over her shoulder.

With an entertained smile, I held her hand firmly. "Maybe, love. I haven't said yes."

"Oh, you'll say yes."

I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, revelling in the warmth her body created as it pressed to mine. We had no concerns that somebody would catch us since nobody was home and the servants knew not to bother us.

"So, what was the book actually about?" she asked, playing with my fingers.

"Huh?"

"The book," she repeated. "I've heard Y/B/N's take on it, but what about yours?"

At the mention of my brother, I rolled my eyes. We still hadn't spoken since our argument and I wasn't exactly in the best place with him right now.

"It doesn't matter," I mumbled into her hair.

She used her elbow to nudge me gently in the stomach before grabbing my other hand and wrapping it around her waist.

"I like hearing you speak," she said softly. "And I love the way your mind works."

My cheeks flushed at the compliment, but I appreciated her words. She always had such an effect on me and I'd come to only care about one opinion nowadays – hers.

"Okay, I guess..." I sighed, subconsciously pressing my fingertips to hers. "The book is about a man who loses his wife to his own ignorance, right?" She hummed in agreement, so I continued. "Y/B/N always talks about how it's about a man failing to appreciate his wife, but that's not how I intended for it to be perceived."

Interest piqued, she sat up straight and turned around to face me, leaning her head on my chest and looking up with curious eyes. I smiled down at her, pressing a kiss to her nose, making her scrunch it up adorably.

"It's supposed to be about the wife discovering that she's her own woman and that she doesn't need her husband to be okay," I continued, holding her gaze. "It was her own self-discovery that pushed them apart, as well her husband's stupidity."

Wanda's lips curved into a gentle smile. "I like that interpretation a lot better than his."

Licking my lips, I breathed out through a smile. "You're biased, dear."

Her eyes flickered to my lips. "Maybe."

I chuckled before closing the gap between us, connecting our lips in a short, sweet kiss. She relaxed against me before smiling as we pulled away.

"Ya lyublyu vas (I love you)," she whispered.

I always loved when she spoke in her native tongue. She sounded so at peace when she did and it warmed my insides.

"I love you, too," I whispered right back.

She grinned, carefree, before turning to lean on my shoulder again. I held her, enjoying the silence that formed between us. Her presence was always enough and I never wanted anything more. But I knew Wanda and I knew that she couldn't stay quiet for too long, so something was definitely up.

"What are you thinking?" I asked quietly, not wanting to startle her in case she was too deep into her thoughts.

She sighed. "It's stupid."

I smiled. "I doubt that."

It went quiet and I assumed she didn't want to share, but then she played with my fingers again as she spoke.

"I was wondering what it would be like if we were able to get married," she murmured. "With the dresses and walking down the aisle and the rings."

I laced my fingers through hers, the thoughts having crossed my mind at times, too. It was nice to think 'what if', but it was also a dangerous game.

"The wedding cake would have to be chocolate," I played along, not wanting her to think she couldn't talk about it.

She snickered, loosening up in my arms. "Of course. And the colour scheme would have to be red."

"Definitely," I agreed, knowing she wouldn't have it any other way, "...it could be somewhere small but comfortable. Surrounded by nature, maybe."

"Yes. With flowers all around us and the sound of birds tweeting in the trees."

A comforting smile crept on my lips as I closed my eyes, imagining it in my mind. What a beautiful day it would be.

"I'd force Pietro to be the ring bearer," she added as an afterthought, and I laughed, chest moving up and down with her on it.

"He'd hate that," I pointed out.

"Exactly," she said with a mischievous hum.

I rolled my eyes playfully. "What about afterwards? Where would you want to live?"

She scrunched her face up before settling with, "Somewhere remote. Away from people. Maybe a nice cottage somewhere."

Nodding in agreement, I said, "We could have a beautiful garden in the back. I'd do my very best to make it perfect for you. And you could paint whatever you wanted there."

A considerate smile tugged at her lips at the thought. "Yes! And we could get a pet. I've always wanted a pet."

"I guess we could... what pet do you want?"

With no hesitation, she said, "Chickens."

I looked down at her, quirking a brow. "Chickens?"

Looking up at me, she stared like it was self-explanatory. "They're cute and they lay eggs. Think about it. Fresh eggs for breakfast every morning."

God, she was so cute. I smiled, squeezing her hand. "Chickens it is, love."

She got excited as she tugged on my hand. "You can finally get a study of your own!"

"And you can get your own studio," I added, making her grin.

"And I'd keep it sparkling clean."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Don't lie, Wanda."

She rolled her eyes, though wore a humoured expression. "Okay, maybe not..."

"You can keep it as messy as you want," I promised her, as if it was actually going to happen and we'd get what we wanted.

The dream was so vivid in my mind that it could have been a memory. Wanda and I living together, peacefully and without hiding... if only we weren't in the wrong lifetime.

"I like to pretend that you gave this to me," she said after an unsettling silence fell upon us, raising her left hand for me to see. She wiggled her ring finger, the silver band and emerald gem glinting in the light. "It makes me feel better."

I swallowed hard and forced a smile, intertwining my fingers in hers and bringing them to my lips to kiss gently.

"Technically I picked it," I reminded her to lighten the mood, but it didn't work.

A sad smile appeared on her face. "Maybe in another lifetime, we could have met in a world that allowed this."

My smile faded into a frown at her words. Like I said, considering the 'what if's' was a dangerous game, and we'd already played too much of it.

"You're going to marry my brother soon," I said quietly, the realisation hitting me. "This– us, will have to stop."

She sat up and turned to face me, eyes looking between mine as she shook her head. "It doesn't have to."

I rested a hand on her cheek and she leaned into it, kissing my palm. I savoured the feeling of her lips against my skin.

"What we're doing isn't fair on either of us," I said reluctantly, afraid to say what we'd avoided for as long as our relationship lasted.

She frowned. "I'd rather have you like this than not at all."

My heart ached because I knew she was being genuine, and the truth is, I felt the same. But that brought me to our next dilemma.

"It's not fair on Y/B/N either."

She tensed her jaw. "The world doesn't want us together, Y/N. They're the ones who forced us to be like this."

"Like what?" I asked with knowing eyes. "Cheaters?"

Her eyes glossed over and it broke me to see her so hurt.

"Is it really cheating if I never wanted to be with him?" she asked with a shaky voice. "If I'm only acting out of duty? If I never loved him?"

Realising I'd saddened her, I moved forward and pulled her in for a hug, running my hand down her hair and to her back. "Sorry... I didn't mean to make you upset."

She sniffled and I felt her tears soaking my shirt. "Don't talk like that... I don't want to lose you."

I swallowed hard, nodding into her shoulder. "I don't want to lose you either, Wanda."

But I knew that deep down, we couldn't hold onto everything we wanted to in life. Deep down, she must have known that, too.

—

"...and this is where we write up the contracts. It's where we'd write up yours if you say yes."

Pietro grinned cheekily as I gave him a knowing look. He was showing me around the publishing house – a proper tour, not just me lurking around on the few visits I'd been here for Y/B/N – with hopes of convincing me to sign a contract with him.

"Pietro, you said you wouldn't be biased," Wanda warned, and I gave her a grateful smile as Pietro chuckled.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it," he apologised, though he definitely didn't mean it. "I just really think you'd be a great fit here, Y/N. I already have editors willing to work with you based on the few pages they've seen of your work."

I raised my eyebrows, startled. "Wow, seriously?"

He nodded. "Most definitely. As I told you the other night, you're talented. And with my help, you can be successful, too."

A smile fell on my lips uncontrollably. A real editor wanted to work with me. Woah.

"I'm gonna get some coffee," Wanda said, squeezing my shoulder. "I'll get you both some, too." She wagged a finger towards her brother. "Don't pressure her whilst I'm gone."

He raised his hands in defence. "Okay, calm down, sestra (sister). I'll be fair."

She lowered her finger, shot him a final look, then smiled at me before leaving for the café next door. I chuckled at how cute she was and how much she cared before returning my attention to Pietro.

"I won't pressure you," he said to me, perching on the edge of an empty desk. "I just want you to know that you'd be well looked after here. I wouldn't let anyone talk down to you, nor treat you with disrespect because you're a woman. I don't condone that here."

I relaxed at his words, offering him a grateful smile. "Thank you, Pietro. That really means a lot."

He returned the smile before his gaze moved over my shoulder. Smile fading, he cleared his throat awkwardly and looked away. I turned around, curious to what had caught his attention, and then I saw Y/B/N standing in the doorway, looking around for something. His eyes eventually fell on me and he perked up before heading our way.

I hadn't spoken to him since two nights ago after dinner. He'd actively avoided me, too and I wasn't complaining, having still harboured an unexplainable anger for him. What was he doing here?

"Y/N, hey," he said awkwardly, stopping before Pietro and I. His eyes flickered to Pietro before he asked me, "Can I speak with you?"

Instinctively, my jaw clenched and he seemed to notice as he shook his head quickly.

"Not to argue," he clarified. "Just to talk."

His eyes were pleading and I couldn't find it in myself to deny him. He was my brother after all, we couldn't argue forever. Nodding wordlessly, I smiled apologetically to Pietro before following Y/B/N to a quiet side of the room. My eyes ran along the many employees working away at their desks before falling to my brother before me.

"What is it?" I asked, maybe a little too harshly, but there was no going back now.

He frowned, eyes flittering around nervously. "I want to apologise for my behaviour the other night. I shouldn't have acted how I did."

I hugged myself as I shifted my weight between my feet. "Okay."

"You were right," he continued, finally meeting my eyes. "You deserve this. You've always been there for me, helping me with my writing when I needed it. I should have reacted better, but I let my jealousy get the better of me."

My mouth opened, surprised at his apology.

He offered me a sad smile. "The truth is, Y/N, we both know you'll be the more successful of us both. And you'll be so preoccupied with your own writing that you won't be able to help me anymore. And it was selfish of me to think that first, but I did. And I shouldn't have. I'm sorry. I'm your big brother and I should've been better."

Chewing on my lip, I let go of waist and straightened up, nodding slightly. "I– thanks. Thank you. For telling me that."

His shoulders relaxed as he nodded. "Also, you were right about what you said about Wanda. And I'm going to apologise to her first thing."

My expression softened at the mention of the girl who'd only ever been good to us. "She's seriously talented, Y/B/N."

"I know."

I nodded, stepping forward and resting a hand on his shoulder. Looking between his eyes, I only saw regret and I knew he was being genuine with his apology.

"You're forgiven," I told him with a small smile, before pulling him in for a quick hug.

He returned it and I felt relieved to know he was supportive. I didn't see a reason to not accept Pietro's deal now... everybody I cared about was okay with it.

"Wanda is here by the way," I told Y/B/N when we pulled apart. "She's just getting some coffee for us."

He nodded and we returned to Pietro, who gave me a concerned look. I smiled reassuringly and he relaxed before looking to my brother with a smile.

"Hey, Pietro, sorry for what I said last night," Y/B/N was quick to say. "It wasn't cool. I know you're not like that and I shouldn't have even thought it, let alone said it."

Pietro was one of the chillest people I'd met as he offered his hand out to my brother. "No worries, mate. Bygones."

They exchanged a handshake before my brother glanced to me.

"She's really good," he said to Pietro. "You'd be lucky to have her here."

My face heated up as Pietro nodded in agreement. The two of them looked to me with proud smiles and as uncomfortable as I felt with the attention, I was grateful to have their support.

"I know," Pietro said. "All she's got to do is say yes."

"You haven't said yes yet?" my brother asked with disbelief, before slapping me on the arm playfully. "Y/N! This is your chance!"

"And it's a big decision!" I reminded him.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but then I caught sight of Wanda over his shoulder and perked up. She smiled my way but then noticed Y/B/N's presence and proceeded with caution.

"Hey, I got you both a coffee," she said, giving Pietro his and handing me mine, but her eyes were searching mine with worry.

My hand brushed hers as I accepted my coffee and I squeezed it reassuringly. She seemed to believe me as her lips twitched into a small smile before looking to Y/B/N.

"Hey," she said to him quietly, biting her lip.

He glanced to me for encouragement and I gave him a subtle thumbs up. This seemed to help as he wiped his hands on his trousers before looking to Wanda hopefully.

"Hey," he finally spoke. "Please can we talk in private for a moment?"

She nodded, humming in response, and followed him to talk.

"Match made in heaven those two," Pietro said sarcastically, and I tried not to laugh, but damn was it funny.

"Look, I think I've made a decision," I said after a moment, feeling my heart speed up at the realisation of my next words.

"Oh? And what is it? Will you let me publish you?" Pietro asked, quirking a brow and watching me with an excited smile.

Well, there was only the future to look forward to now.

I grinned. "Yes."

[kittysmemestorage]

Shane Koyczan Poetry into Starters // Part 7

Moving these from Lulu to here so that it’s just easier to find when needed. Hope you enjoy them; they contain feels.

Remember to specify for multi muse blogs!

When I Was A Kid

“If you’re not careful, someday someone is gonna break your heart.”

“I’ve gotten shot down so many times that I get altitude sickness just from standing up for myself.”

“It’s time to start putting childish things away.”

“Fuck you! This is Skeletor!”

“I’ll never make it anywhere if I keep running away.”

“Do you wanna be a man..?”

“I want to register a retirements saving plan that will keep me long enough in candy to make old age sweet.”

“Others are less likely to argue if they are as tired as I am.”

“I was always drawn towards moonlight.”

“You must set your days according to sun light.”

“If I shut my eyes, even for an instance, I’ll miss out on something amazing.”

“All of this getting ahead bullshit will end soon.”

“You made it!”

“I saved up nickels and dimes, hoping that my first date would be you.”

“I probably should have just said something,,, but I was just a chicken shit.”

“When I was a kid, I did some stupid shit.”

“It’s like your heart, it doesn’t matter where you hide it. Lovers are like little kids lifting up rocks looking for an insect.. they will find that shit.”

“There is no winning any race against yourself, slow down.”

“Every weed is a flower just trying to make shit work.”

“Every jerk that you encounter is just someone who forgot that it’s okay to need a hug.”

“You just seem to laugh a little bit louder.. smile a little bit longer.”

“Don’t worry about me, I got more.”

“I rock the slumber party, come nap with me. First one to fall asleep loses.”

“I know we never meant to turn our hearts into garbage bins.. it was an accident.”

“I know the headlines about us giving up was just a misprint, and really just really bad reporting.”

“You need to start letting things go.”

“I’m in the habit of throwing everything away.”

Tarot

“The fool loves completely.”

“This is not work, this is necessary.”

“Someone has to put a positive spin on the term arms dealer..”

“You are cordially invited here, right now.”

“Test my commitment if you must, I will never let you go.”

“I won’t keep you forever.”

“I’ll be yours until you say so.”

“I don’t know how to hold on.”

“I plan on surprising even death by leaving early.”

“I can’t stand the sameness..”

“I don’t care about your simple questions.”

“I don’t know how to stop.”

“The tiny kindnesses are just pretend.”

“I’m making way for your something better that has come along.”

“Silly creature, love is for humans.”

“I wish you to have an unrelenting happiness.”

“My love does not end.”

“If only you could feel what I felt when I held you.”

“The truth about this race you’ve been running..? The only finish line is death.”

“”We need to celebrate the awful for the beautiful contrast.”

“Here I am.. breaking myself open and offering you my chest because this is the only gift worth giving.”

“The hardest part of living is watching what people will do with your trust.”

“There are people who will split you in two just to make you feel what they feel.”

“You just manipulate my trust and use it to hurt others and pit them against each other.. only for your amusement..”

“The risk of finding one honest connection is worth the hurt.”

“Guess it wasn’t in the cards..”

“It wasn’t in the dice, either. It wasn’t in the dominoes. God I don’t believe in knows it wasn’t in the air. It was in the atmosphere.. it was everywhere all at once.”

“It was so beautiful that I question if it even existed.”

“You can’t have hope until you’re willing to admit that there are times when the only honest answer is I don’t know.”

“I am swimming through the mess I made..”

“I stood still when you asked me to move so I could prove that the only thing that belongs to us are the choices we chose.”

“We lose everything by risking nothing.”

“You just pretend away your pain as if you are somehow above it.”

“You can’t just bare what is necessary.. you must love it.”

[ajwwrites]

The quest for the perfect Love on Tour outfit started with a boa.

I wasn’t sure of anything else, but I knew I wanted a boa, especially after seeing how much Harry loved his and radiated confidence in the two he wore at the Grammys, both during his performance and on the red carpet. Once I decided I wanted to wear head to toe cherries for my night in the Cherry Pit, the logical next step was to get a red boa. The anxieties in my day-to-day life of worrying what people think or overanalyzing my own actions never once crossed my mind. I was single-minded and knew exactly what I wanted. My friend accompanied me on my search, and I picked up my most cherished accessory that’s usually relegated to costume parties or a silly look for a bachelorette’s night on the town. To her credit, my friend didn’t question why exactly I needed a boa for a Harry Styles concert, but the words left unsaid were written all over her face.

The answer is simple: we become a reflection of Harry when we stand in the crowd.

When we enter his space, we are molded in his image – in his confidence, in his kindness – and watching him be so unabashedly himself each and every single night, we find it in ourselves to do the exact same thing. Wearing something too over the top isn’t something that could ever happen at a Harry show because he’s dressed to the nines right along with us. Worrying about what other people think could never happen at a Harry show because he invites us into his safe space that’s free of judgment and full of love.

Most of us have watched him perform for years and have watched him blossom, trading skinny jeans and black t-shirts for flared pants and sheer blouses, going from a singular painted nail to nail polish in every color of the rainbow and rings on every finger. In watching him grow, we grow, too. When you see the way someone like him has grown into himself – from a tearful teenager questioning whether he’d ever be a person who didn’t care what people thought of him to someone wearing a ruffled gown on the cover of Vogue – you can’t help but think to yourself, “what can I do to become this comfortable in my own skin?”

Looking around at a sea of happy people wearing boas (a Grammys favorite), cowboy hats (a fan favorite to throw onstage for Harry to wear), flared pants (a staple of the Fine Line era), suits (a staple of the Harry Styles era), glittery boots (Harry’s favorite accessory since the start of his career), and whatever it is that makes them “whoever it is [they] want to be in this room,” like Harry says every night, makes me think his concerts help us get one step closer to answering that question for ourselves. It’s a reminder of how powerful his words and actions really are in the way we all take them to heart. We find our confidence in emulating his style because we’ve seen him have the time of his life in those clothes, and we know we can do the same.

My boa made her appearance for Madison Square Garden night two, and the way I usually double check myself in the mirror to get one last look at all my insecurities was gone. The anxiety I usually have about going places surrounded by people I don’t know didn't exist. I knew I looked good, and I felt how Harry must’ve felt the second he set foot on the Grammy stage, radiating confidence and cool the second the lights came on. I treated the city streets like my runway as I made the few block walk from my hotel to the arena. Getting there felt like entering the Met Gala where the theme was Harry Styles, and everyone was dressed appropriately.

The atmosphere at every show was electric, and most importantly, just incredibly nice. My friend was shocked by the number of people who stopped her to compliment her or fawn over her dress. Multiple people complimented my outfit. I bonded with others who wore cherries. I told countless people I liked their jewelry or shoes and watched them light up and offer a genuine compliment in return. The kindness we share is an extension of Harry’s own – treat people with kindness isn’t a trite mantra, it’s something he’s proved time and time again that he lives by. The stories you hear from both Harry’s fans and friends alike are always about how kind he is. He always stops for fans even when some are overzealous and rude, he takes the time to listen to the stories people want to share with him even when he’s in a hurry, he’s raised an incredible amount for charity throughout his career, he’s stopped mid-song during his shows to make sure that his fans are feeling okay, he’s been unwaveringly supportive of the LGBTQ+ community from the time he was a teenager, and he’s always growing and learning how to be an even better, more inclusive person. In that arena, with Harry as our guide, we all tried to do the same.

When Harry urged us to tell the people around us that we love them, we declared our love for perfect strangers, and maybe more surprisingly, we actually meant it. The anxieties I usually feel being around people I don’t know didn’t exist. There was no fear that they would be mean or nasty or unwelcoming. In those moments, I did love every single person around me and knew there was no one I’d rather spend my time in his light with than the friends I made because of him who have become some of the most important people in my life, the girl in front of me who excitedly told me she loved my mask, the girl wearing kiwi earrings that swapped compliments and shopping tips with my friend, and the guy next to me who showed up nervous and alone but ending up dancing alongside us like an old friend (he even excitedly texted me the video he took of Harry dousing us with his water - baptizing us, if you will - so we could forever remember that special moment we shared).

Those lessons that we’ve learned from Harry give us a safe space for these interactions to exist – to know that you can wear an outfit that would be met with ridicule in the real world and be surrounded by people who understand the importance of an ostentatious boa and flashy boot the way you do. To know that it’s okay to feel good in our skin and just keep on dancing because he does the same. The harshness of the real world doesn’t exist inside of Harry Styles Land, and that in itself – that escape from life – is one of the most special gifts he could give us.

I left feathers everywhere I went that night – at Madison Square Garden, on sidewalks, at the bar – and it seems only fitting I was sprinkling a bit of my newfound confidence wherever I could, in the same way Harry sprinkles his, along with his kindness and joy like a fairy spreads pixie dust. I hoped that others could pick up my shine like I did Harry’s.

The next day, when it was back to work, back to real life, I found a single feather on the passenger’s seat of my car. Maybe I can’t spend every day in the special world Harry shares with us as fans, but I can bring that confidence, love, and kindness into my everyday world and help extend its reach. I can use all I’ve learned from him to be a little more bold, a little more caring, and bring Love on Tour into my own life - even without the boa.

[oh-for-fic-sake]

What will daddy Henry do if his little is sad because someone took something valuable from her?

So i wanst sure what to base this on entirely, so I'm going to go with something I went through over the last few weeks. I had a little bit of anon hate, which I deleted but the words stuck with me making me second guess everything i was working on and the confidence i had in my writing was taken away. so this is like a shameful self indulgent fantasy that im going to read to myself when ever im down.

Warnings: Pretty Personal For Me, Angsty, Fluffy, Self Doubt, Happy Ending, DDLG, Long!!

Tagging: @viking-raider @isitmine @tinabean37 @loserrlauraa  @msblkfire84 @henrythickcavill @plainbrunettelbl @dummiesshort @cynic-spirit @pandaxnienke  @two-unbeatable-beaters @libbymouse @wolfieash @eldarwen333 @princesssterek @mom2000aggie @blackestpinkworld 

(not sure who to tag in headcannons? these are the ones on my everything taglist)

Henry watched quietly with a frown as you sat down in the living room, eyes cast down at the tablet in front of you shoulders slumped.

"poppet what's wrong love?"

"n-nothing da-addy" you said with a small stutter

Henry shifted on his feet looking at you critically before coming over to you.

"nothing? So your sitting here almost in tears over nothing" he stated sceptically rounding the sofa sitting next to you.

"I'm not cryin" you sniffled trying to bite your lower lip to stop it from wobbling.

"not yet, but close enough poppet, hand it over" he said holding out his hand waiting for the tablet.

You whined not wanting to hand it to him at first but after a mini battle of wills you placed the colourful tablet in his hand.

Your head was cast down and you rubbed your eyes trying to catch the tears before they were noticeable.

"okay then, so this is your new story?" he asked scrolling through the page not reading it all but scanning the words, it was well written like always.

At the beginning of the pandemic he suggested you started a blog, and you had. A writing blog all full of fanfictions of... Him.

He didn't mind he actually love you doing something constructive, it kept you happy and busy which helped him because there wasn't many free days even in lockdown. He was working out, reading scripts or rearranging covid tests and travel.

Plus knew these smut blogs existed, even lurked on a few.

"y-yeah" you mumbled leaning on him hugging his arm scanning the page as he scrolled, you knew he wasn't reading everything maybe every few lines

"sooo what's the problem?" he said not finding an issue with the writing.

"i... I cant post it" you muttered looking down avoiding his gaze

"why?" he asked frowning not liking the defeated tone you had.

"j-just because..."

"ah I see, you have lost your confidence" he said quickly figuring out the problem, the downside to writing was everything was personal preference so tiny comments could knock your confidence.

In a way it was like his work, you put your heart and soul into it and then people don't like it? It was always a bummer. But he was used to it, you were not.

You nodded to him it was true you'd lost your confidence, you hadn't wrote for a while.

You couldn't seem to find the words to fit together anymore.

You felt silly, they were just a few mean comments, words from a nasty troll who didn't have anything better to do but it hurt, you poured your heart into every chapter and then for people to rip it to shreds? It stung.

"y-yes I... They didn't like it" you hummed fiddling with your fingers, drawing deep breaths trying not to cry

"and so what?" he said shrugging making you snap your gaze to him.

"wha?"

"it doesn't matter love, so a few people didn't like it, lots of people do, I love your stories"

"you have to your my daddy"

Henry huffed and shook his head at you ruffling your hair pressing a kiss to your head amused that you thought that's the only reason he liked your writing.

"don't stop writing just because of a few mean people nugget, it takes a lot of skill to write and a lot of bravery to share it. Your a brave talented little baby and I'm very proud of you"

He said cooing as that seemed to be the final push sending you over the edge making you burst out into tears.

He hugged you moving the tablet out of the way before pulling you to his lap, unbuttoning his shirt half way and squished you into his bare chest knowing you needed to feel him, not a shirt.

"shh its okay babygirl, your stories are wonderful, and you have fun writing them don't you baby?"

You nodded crying harder trying to get the words out but you just couldn't instead whining incoherently into him.

"and you enjoy making the little banners? And collect all your photos and gifs?"

"y-yeah but they di-dn't like it last time!"

"they don't have to like everything you do sweety"

"but I don't wana upset them!"

"did you do the warnings?" he asked knowing all about the do's and don'ts of posting your erotica.

You nodded whining you always did warnings on stuff to be safe.

"and make the little cut thingy you were telling me about?" again you nodded at him

"so your telling me they read the warnings, clicked to see it and then were mean?" you sniffled biting your lip trying to calm down but nodded to him humming quietly.

"well then it sounds to me like they were going out of their way, looking for someone to pick on" he said slowly rocking you slightly.

You fell quiet resting your head on his chest as he rubbed your back and patted your bottom soothing you.

"but what if they wasn't? What if my stories are bad- and encourage bad stuff!" you cried tucking yourself into him tighter.

"no-no you repeat after me, fiction is fiction" he said pulling you back wiping your tears waiting for you to say it out loud.

"fic-tion is f-fiction" you repeated

"I did everything I could to warn people"

"I-I did everyth-ing I could to w-warn people" he smiled at you as you drew a huge breath calming yourself down.

"and they are jealous because I'm an adorable, smart, funny kind and caring babygirl who has the cutest little peach butt in the world~" he said smirking at you from above holding you tightly to him pressing a kiss to your head.

"and they- daddy! Noo! I can't say that~" you gasped flushing as you realised what he had said

"oh yes you can because its the truth now come here let daddy bite that peach~" he growled playfully snapping his jaws at you.

"ah-no!" you screeched giggleing as he began tickling you all over wrestling you playfully trying to lean over and bite your but through your shorts.

He landed two solid bite's on your bottom before pulling back. Even though he had cheered you up he could see you were still doubting yourself.

Henry cast a glance to the tablet and smirked forming a plan that might just get you back on track. He was not going to let anyone steal your sparkle.

"come on you you've spent enough time writing go play in the garden with Kal"

Once you left henry got to work swiping up the tablet and going on your one drive seeing the meticulously organized notebooks, recognising a few by name.

A few weeks later Henry came in to the living room with a medium size box and plopped it on the sofa next to you.

"here we go nugget!" he said placing the gift next to you, they couldn't have come quickly enough, he had noticed you hadn't been writing at all, which upset him because he knew how much you loved it.

"what's that daddy?" you asked peering over the box not expecting any gifts.

"why don't you open it and find out?" he said sitting the other side of the box handing you a pair of scissors to slice the tape.

You moved slowly cutting it open and pulled the box open then froze.

"d-daddy? What thats my..." you trailed off pulling out the hard back books your banner on the front cover.

"your stories? Yes poppet, I realised that you were putting so much work into these things but could loose them, they are soo good that daddy wanted to read them over and over and now we can!" he said pleased with himself as you sat there shocked looking at the small collection of a5 books.

"but their- i dont..." you said happy but completely shocked, flicking through the pages, there were even a few comments in the margins from henry pointing out the pits he liked making your heart swell with pride.

Henry moved to stand behind you pressing a kiss to your hair.

"They are brilliant! So good I'm so proud of every thing you have achieved and I want them on our book shelf, in the living room" he said making you tear up.

"Really? You... You think their that good?" you whined eyes blurring with tears as you hugged the first book to your chest.

"absolutely poppet now go on, you do the honours~" he said pressing your shoulder urging you to go to the cube bookshelf.

You tiptoed over to it and slowly pulled out each little custom book with your banner on the front.

You sat down placing each one delicately on the shelf the five books each lining up with one another half filling the empty cube shelf.

"oh no baby look? The shelf isn't full is it? You know what that means" he said standing looking

"I-I've gotta write?" you asked sniffling weeping softly but this time because you were happy.

"exactly! You need to fill the whole shelf, so you keep up the good work and tell daddy when you finish your next story and we can keep adding to it!" he said cheerfully walking over handing you the tablet.

You smiled to yourself and looked to the books, your books- actual real life books on a shelf!

You grinned throwing yourself at him latching onto him feeling your confidence come back just from seeing how much you had done.

Suddenly the hate didn't matter, your daddy like them enough to make them into real life books! And even annotated them himself?

And if your writing was good enough for your daddy then it was good enough for you.

"daddy, can I have my screen time now, I want to write!!" you said jumping up and down on the spot excited to start your next chapter.

Henry grinned nodding deciding you can have as much screen time today as you wanted as long as it meant you wasn't giving up your new hobby.

[plasmaspring]

Okay incomplete list of things that ended my fucking life tonight before I pass out

Homeless gospel choir is so much fun I need to listen to more of their music

Every other song he said “this is a protest song” so fucking funny

At the end of one of the songs one of the guitarists literally sat on her friend gayly

Frank iero tiny man incident

Thursday

Just all of Thursday

“This one is for the human rights of everyone in this room” &the trans rights shoutout

They/he Gerard incident

Seriously Geoff was having so much fun he is such a killer performer

Everyone around us was so nice and so helpful and so much fun

Sexual vacuum guy song

Vacuum guy rides the vacuum offstage like a horse

Ray toro stage wine in dainty glass (at least one category 5 milf moment during the show)

Mikey’s kids drawings on the amp

The little vial of red paint for Gerard to put up the 4th tally on the drum

Orchestral foundationa

Gerard’s Dracula costume was so fucking… like it was so high quality she and marina put their whole pussies into it

Candelabra

Screaming get up coward with thousands of people made me tear up

She put the cape over her face during foundations

She is the most beautiful woman alive

Ray toro smiles so big and wide and sweetly

They were all so happy to be up there smiling their hearts out

The energy in the room was infectious

Ray, Mikey, and Gerard all made eye contact with us at least twice and I cannot be sure but I believe in my heart that Gerard saw my open palm with “trans” written on it and smiled and Dean corroborates this and I can’t process that right now

I won’t go over every song because then I would be here forever but

Deathwish was the one thing I was saddest about missing from revenge night (apart from hang em high) and they played it SECOND I will avenge my ghost with every breath I take

Planetary Go with Dean shatterstar in the pit was fucking insane

Ray toro summertime solo ten feet from me I don’t care that she messed up a note she is perfect to ME

Boy division. Boy division

Boy division

Save yourself

Dedicating teenagers to their daughter was so fucking sweet and very funny after throwing it away last show

They literally did not stop like it was fucking. There was no time to recover it was just hit after hit

Mastas of Ravenkroft

I’m turning into some bats and rats and cats she got so cute with it WHILE DRESSED AS A VAMPIRE sucks her silly

Duct tape scars on my honey

Doing the destroya moans with Dean & Elle

Skipping sing after so many of us spent so long in the bathroom listening to them sound check it is so funny

I think it was during not okay but Ray went over to sing to his kids and it was the sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever seen these kids love watching their parents perform they love seeing their parents happy and being adored

Scarecrow fucks scarecrow ripped me apart

VAMPIRES

FAMOUS LAST WORDS RAY SOLO IN FRONT OF ME

Gerard is so fucking beautiful I want to kill myself

The dedication of ghost was super sweet

Ghost of you is a good ass song

Kids from yesterday Ray solo literally less than five feet from us, we managed to literally get to barricade right at the end and we got to see Ray fucking crush it right until the end of the show he is so so so unbelievably talented and I hope he could tell how much I fucking adore him by the way I was screaming his name

Mikey carrying his daughter around after everyone else had left the stage beaming so we could wave to her

Callie caught the set list so I got pictures!

There’s literally so much more and so much from before the show and from the first show that like I want burned into my brain forever but I’m about to pass out!!! Jesus Christ the people who love this band are so fucking special I have never felt so welcomed by literally everyone in a space.

I’m never going to forget this 💖

[penguintransporter]

Every You, Every Me (a Leon Goretzka story) chapter II

I know it’s been a while, but I re-wrote this part maybe seven, eight times, only to settle on something completely different. Hope you like it, and I apologise if it is a bit too long (you know me). Tell me what you think about it, every heart, message, and reblog means much more than you can imagine. It needs some editing, but I will get around to do it sometime later. 

Part I

Sofie rested her hands on her waist, overlooking the mountain of clothes piled on her bed — different shapes, colours, patterns and prints, interlacing and weaving in an incomprehensible bundle on top of her comforter. She didn’t know where to start, and for a moment, she wished she could wipe it away with a snap of her fingers, and be over with it.

She was tired after having a sleepless night, and she was hungry, but she had been putting it off for too long, and she knew it had to be done. 

Shaking her head a bit, Sofie picked up a pair of black, over-the-knee boots from the top of the pile — the soft leather feeling smooth against the skin of her fingertips. She remembered the day when she bought them, matching them with a strappy top and a mid-calf, satin skirt — cashing out the last cents of her scholarship money in the outfit, hoping to catch his eye.  

The confidence she felt when she made her way through the crowd in the outfit she couldn’t afford and with her makeup and hair immaculately done, trying to fit in with the people he invited to his birthday party — it all felt ridiculous and a bit childish in retrospective. The glances they shared across the room, the smile on his face when he opened the present she got him, the random touch of his fingertips against her bare back when he guided her to the bar, and the clearest of them all, the bitter taste in her mouth when he left with Yvonne — the girl he ended up dating for the next six months. 

As she watched his figure walk out with his strong arm around the pretty blonde in luxurious dress, Sofie knew that the best thing would be to just give up, as any sane person in her place would, but she just couldn’t bring herself to listen to her brain. Instead, she booked a hairdresser the next morning, dyeing her hair in lighter colour and waited for him to notice it, feeding on the crumbs of his attention and sticking to it like a moth to the flame. 

Yet, she was blind, diving deep into the pit of unrequited love, shedding the layers of her real self along the way, not thinking about consequences or the future.

Sofie breathed out a sigh before lifting up a dress from her bed — short and covered in sequins, and she couldn’t help but narrow her eyes at the mere thought of owning it, let alone wearing it. There was nothing wrong with the dress itself, but the cut, length and style of it, it was all, but something she felt comfortable wearing. Folding it gingerly, she glanced back at the clothes in front of her — realisation of how much she had changed herself for Leon hitting her like a train. 

Sofie knew better than that.

Sofie was about to throw the dress behind her, in the same pile with her overpriced boots when her phone buzzed loudly on her dresser, startling her. Dropping it back on the pile, Sofie made her way towards the device that was hidden among one too many notebooks and course books resting on the IKEA piece before picking it up and smiling at the name written across the screen. 

“You actually did it!” Elle screamed from the other side of the line causing the other girl to twist her lips and move her phone away from her ear for a second. If there was one distinctive separating the two of them, it was the different levels of their loudness at any given moment. “Turn the fucking camera on, and let me see it!” her best friend demanded — her voice still too loud for Sofie’s or anyone's comfort. 

“Language,” Sofie laughed, fumbling with her phone, “you are not on the pitch, Ellenore.” Sofie finally turned on the front camera, pulling a face at Elle as her friend squealed with happiness upon seeing her hair, or rather lack of it. “I guess you like it then,” Sofie muttered, patting the top of her head, feeling slightly embarrassed with the attention she was getting. 

“I love it,” Elle breathed out. “I was worried at first when you texted, but you have one sexy head, Sofie. How does it feel? Naked?”

“Light and cold,” Sofie responded with a shake of her head, “almost had a heart attack when I woke up yesterday morning and saw myself in the mirror.”

Elle laughed softly, adjusting her large bag across her shoulders as she walked along the small street that led to her apartment block - the red jacket with the Bayern Munich logo zipped all the way to her chin. 

“What’s the mess about?” Elle changed the topic, making Sofie turn her head away to look at the clothes and shoes strewn across her bed. 

“I’ve been—” Sofie paused to make herself some space before sitting down at the foot of her bed, “decluttering. Or something like that.”

Elle’s face dropped for a second, but she quickly masked it with a supporting grin that Sofie more than appreciated. If anyone knew about the heartbreak and the identity crisis that Sofie was going through, it was Elle. 

“Are you getting rid of everything?” Elle asked. “Will you sell it or give away?”

“I don’t know what to do with it yet, but I know that it has to go,” Sofie admitted. She felt the tears glaze her vision, but she quickly gave Elle a small smile, trying to stop herself from being too pathetic. “I’ve made such a mess out of my life, Elle,” she paused, giving herself a moment to bite back her tears, “I could have travelled half of the world with the money I spent on frills and sequins, and I hate frills and sequins.”

“I think you are being too hard on yourself, Sofie,” Elle said as Sofie stretched her legs in front of her, “and travelling half of the world is more expensive than you think. Unless you are someone who is comfortable wearing the same harem pants and baja hoodie for more than two and showering once a week,” she added with an innocent smile, and Sofie couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“I am just disappointed that I let myself go this far,” Sofie admitted, focusing on the slippers on her feet - soft material worn out and discoloured. “Plenty fish in the sea, and I was pulling on the biggest catch. How silly of me.”

Elle was quiet as Sofie got up, making her way out of the room and towards the kitchen, closing the doors behind her. One thing was keeping herself busy with it, and completely different to stare at it and do nothing.

“Did you talk to him? Or Serge? They are back from Trentino, or at least that’s what I’ve heard from the girls at the training.” Elle stopped to unlock her apartment doors. 

Despite seeing that Elle was concentrating on twisting the locks, Sofie nodded, pouring some of the juice from the container into her glass. “I had a missed call from Leon on Tuesday,” she took a small sip of her drink, relishing the coolness trickling down her throat, “and I called back. I know I shouldn’t have,” Sofie whispered, rubbing at her eye with her free hand, placing her glass at the edge of the sink, “but he didn’t mention anything about coming back early. Then again, I didn’t ask either, maybe I should have. And why am I being so pathetic, it's not like we had something going on? It was me running after him...”

“Sofie,” Elle sighed quietly — her voice careful, “I know it’s not easy to deal with the heartbreak, and you shouldn’t keep it inside. I am here, you know that?”

Sofie nodded, trying to ignore the feeling of emptiness in her stomach despite the juice. “Yeah,” she answered slowly, “but, I hav—” Sofie stopped, running her hand across the top of her head, finding comfort in the simple action of touching it. “How was your training session?” she asked, changing the subject clumsily as the doorbell rang out throughout her apartment. Sofie’s stomach grumbled at the mere thought of eating lunch soon.

“Did you order food?” Elle smirked, “sushi? Noodles?”

“Indian actually,” Sofie replied, walking towards the doors through the small hallway before unlocking the massive doors, only to stop in her tracks — the smile she had prepared for the delivery person faltering as quickly as it appeared.

**

“You know, Serge,” Sofie grinned as she twirled the last remaining of her already cold tea in her cup, “staring at me won’t make it grow back any faster,” she spoke, downing the leftovers of her drink while grinning at her friend over the lip of her mug. He only laughed in response, and Sofie rolled her eyes playfully before glancing briefly at Leon.

Ever since Sofie welcomed them in her apartment, Leon had been acting strange, quietly sitting at the edge of her couch — leg bouncing as he glanced at his phone every few seconds. He wasn’t as talkative as Serge most of the time, but having him say only few words was not a common thing. Sofie felt that there was something on his mind, and that he was going through something, but she didn't know how to approach him without being too noisy.

“I wasn’t staring at all,” Serge replied, still grinning, “and if I did, it’s because it looks really good.”

“Do girls drop their panties for you all the time, Gnabry?” Sofie asked, sarcastically. “Your charm is amazing.”

“I am being honest here,” Serge clarified, trying to contain his laughter, “it does look good. Right?” he admitted, looking towards Leon, but his friend ignored him — eyes still trained on the shiny device. Serge smiled in disbelief, glancing at Sofie with a goofy face before leaning closer to his friend and teammate, nudging him with his knee, “Leon? I am talking to you. Are you even here?”

“Hmm? What?” Leon suddenly asked, looking up from his phone, startled at the sound and motion coming from his left. “Did you say something?”

“Sofie’s new haircut. It looks good, no?” Serge repeated, much slower, stretching out every syllable for the confused German. 

“Yeah,” Leon started, giving Sofie a long stare which made her heartbeat accelerate, “yeah, it does,” he repeated somewhat quieter, glancing at his phone again for a millisecond. “Can I make some fresh coffee, Sofie? I feel like some coffee?” he asked suddenly— eyes never leaving hers, and for some reason Sofie felt scrutinized under his gaze.  

Sofie was a bit confused with the urgency in his voice, but nodded quickly, watching him get up and straighten his dark jeans in a hurry and putting his phone in the back pocket. He gave her a small smile in response before moving around the coffee table and walking out of the room, not looking back when Serge commented something that Sofie didn’t catch. There was a strange feeling inside of her stomach as she watched him walk out, before she leaned forward in her seat, giving Serge a quizzical look on which he only shrugged with his shoulders. 

“I’ll go and check,” she whispered, getting up as well, and quickly following Leon into the kitchen. 

He was resting his large hands against the counter, watching Sofie’s cheap coffee machine drip the liquid in the large container. In the small space of her kitchen, crammed with the table, uncomfortable chairs, and way too many plants and random knick-knacks, Leon’s physique was overwhelming. Sofie stood in the doorway, quietly observing him, and nervously bringing her hands together, unwilling to speak out and ruin his peace. 

“You’ve been really quiet,” she finally said, moving away from the doorway and stepping inside the room and beside him. She wasn’t the shortest girl out there, but he was still towering over her, especially now that she was only wearing her slippers. 

Leon briefly glanced at her — his eyes moving from her eyes to her hair, and down to her lips for a split of a second before looking back at the coffee machine again, making her heart soar. Up close, she could see the fine smile lines around his eyes and lips. He was beautiful.

“I didn’t sleep well,” he answered quietly, rubbing at the stubble along his chin, “didn’t help that Serge chatted my ear off on our flight back to Munich either. He sat with Hummels, but he shooed him over to my seat,” he added, giving her a small, one-sided grin.

Sofie smiled as well, turning around and leaning against the sink — the aluminium chilling her back through her worn-out tee. “He’s got enough energy for the entire squad, no?” 

“Indeed he does.”

There was a moment of silence between the two of them, and the only sound was the coffee machine loudly filtering the bitter liquid in the scratched pot. Sofie took a deep breath as she stared in front of herself, focusing on the rotting banana in her fruit basket on the dining table, and before she could stop herself, the words that she was supposed to suppress and keep inside, left her mouth. 

“If you want, you can stay and take a nap on the sofa as usual,” she suggested, and almost instantly regretted it. She had created a list of unwritten rules that were supposed to help her get over Leon, and offering him couch to nap on was not one of them.

“Thanks, but I think I will head out whenever Serge makes a move,” Leon quickly answered, and Sofie felt a pinch at her heart. “You seem busy too.”

“As you wish,” she nodded, moving away from the sink as she watched him pour himself a large cup of coffee, dropping a cube of brown sugar in it before taking a small sip. “You sure you’re okay, Leon?” she asked again. 

“Yeah, all is fine, don’t worry,” he smiled, giving her another long stare, and under his gaze she yet felt naked and exposed. “Shall we go out for dinner tomorrow evening? Would be nice to catch up. It’s been a while,” Leon asked as she was about to walk out of her kitchen and back to where Serge was sitting, but stopped in her tracks upon hearing Leon’s voice behind her.

Sofie took a hesitant breath — her heart starting to beat faster in her chest, but she still managed to smile when she turned around, giving him a small nod. “Sure. Sounds like a plan.”

Wrong answer, Sofie.

Wrong answer. 

tags: 

@footballerimaginess, @littlebitofbluelittlebitofcoffee, @jordanspetkovics, @disneydaddyevans​

If there is someone I forgot to tag, please let me know. 

[angstyaches]

On Edge

Request from @alliya :

I am loving all your stories! Maybe you could do one with Shayne not feeling good and he has a stomach ache. Hiding it from Charlie and they have a fight since Shayne is super grumpy. Of course they make up and Charlie gives Shayne tummy rubs! 🥰

CW: stomach ache, nausea mention, food mention, disordered eating and past trauma mention, characters having a disagreement (but of course, making up afterwards), bad, BAD self esteem

___

Shayne wanted to throw up so badly. And yet, he really, really didn’t want to. He put one hand on the edge of the bathroom sink – the other was hovering near his mouth – as he tried to steady his breathing. He’d closed his eyes to avoid seeing himself in the mirror; he looked visibly nauseated and didn’t want to psych himself out any further.

Keep it down, he told himself for the fifteenth time. He let out the slowest breath he could manage, waiting for the nausea to pass. Keep it the fuck down.

As soon as it felt safe to open his eyes, he shakily filled his hands with cool water and splashed it on his face. His stomach was killing him – he had to straighten himself slowly to avoid making it hurt more – but at least he couldn’t feel it physically churning anymore. He dried his face and made his way back out to the kitchen, hoping he hadn’t been gone long enough for Charlie to worry.

Charlie was switching on the dishwasher when Shayne stepped onto the kitchen tiles. The air still smelled of the chicken and rice Charlie had made, and Shayne had to slow his breathing again to make sure the nausea didn’t return. As much as he didn’t want to risk Charlie blaming himself – or his cooking – for Shayne’s current state, he was considering telling him about the stomach ache. Sometimes it was hard for him to cope with being fussed over, but Charlie always ended up making him feel better.

“Oh, hey,” Charlie smiled as he turned around. His blue eyes twinkled as he crossed the room. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Shayne replied, panicked. He flinched as he was pulled into a hug. The pressure was unpleasant on his stomach for the first few seconds, but then the warmth from Charlie’s body started to feel good pressed against him, and he leaned into the embrace with a sigh.

“I’m proud of you,” Charlie whispered near his ear.

Shayne’s chest fluttered. “What – why’s that?”

“You sat down to eat with me three times today.” Charlie rubbed his hand over Shayne’s back. “Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I know it sounds silly, but that feels like progress, right?”

A chill ran down Shayne’s spine, right behind Charlie’s hand.

That was true, even if breakfast had just been coffee and lunch had just been a slice of toast, but the statement still  turned the hug into something invasive and unpleasant. Shayne put his hands on Charlie’s shoulders and pushed him back, putting a few inches between them. A cramp fluttered through his gut and almost made him wince, but he fought through it.

“What the fuck, Charlie?” He felt dizzy as he said it, like he was spinning away from the scene as it was unfolding.

Charlie’s face fell. “What?”

“You’re keeping score of what I eat?”

“I-I – no, I wouldn’t – that’s not what...” A sick, nervous laugh escaped Charlie’s lips as he fumbled a reply. “I’m just keeping an eye on you.”

“No, no, you’re watching how much I eat, and you’re… judging me.”

“Judging?” Charlie scoffed, shrugging helplessly. “All I said was that I was happy –”

“Right, which means that sometimes, you’re not happy with me.” Shayne found himself crossing his arms and pulling them hard against his stomach. He couldn’t breathe. He wanted to disappear, he wanted to be gone, he wanted to rewind the past few seconds and start again.

“Look, I’m – I’m sorry,” Charlie exclaimed, though he didn’t sound sorry in the slightest. “I just want you to be okay, Shayne! Do you know how much this whole thing scares me? I’ve had nightmares about it, like – like, you have no idea!”

Shayne flinched again, both at his boyfriend’s tone and at the revelation.

“So, yes,” Charlie sighed, a flush of red rising to his cheeks as his eyes started watering. “Yes, I’m keeping an eye on you, and yes, I care about what you’re eating. I’ll be at college soon, and I need to know you’re gonna be okay –”

“If you’re going to treat me like this,” Shayne snapped, fighting to keep his voice from breaking, “then, I might as well be back with…”

He didn’t have to say their names, the vampires who’d raised him, who’d tried to starve him of human food and foster his ability to consume the souls of demons. The people who had made him like this in the first place.

Charlie blinked and choked out a tiny gasp. He looked like Shayne had just driven a knife into his gut. A single tear broke free and lingered high on his cheek.

Fuck. With his arms still held protectively against himself, Shayne turned and left the kitchen, not really sure where he was going to hide. There was nowhere that Charlie wouldn’t find him, if he wanted to. But maybe he wouldn’t find him. Shayne certainly wouldn’t have come looking for himself, after what he’d just said.

He ended up in the front living room, sitting at the edge of the sofa and holding his head in his hands. His chest felt tight and his stomach was knotted in pain, but it was nothing compared to the seared image in his mind, of the look on Charlie’s face when he’d said that awful thing.

If he was left to stew for long, the guilt might have physically dissolved him from the inside out, but he was only there a minute or two before Charlie came through the door.

His socks barely made a sound against the hardwood as he walked, and he was biting his lip.

“Shayne, I’m – I’m sorry for making you feel like I was trying to control you.” He gently sat down on the next couch cushion over, hands in his lap. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m… fucking horrible,” Shayne groaned, rubbing his palms over his face. “I didn’t mean any of that, Charlie, I… I’m sorry. You’re amazing. I love you, and I hate myself, and I shouldn’t take it out on you...”

“No, no, no, stop that.” Charlie turned sideways and opened his arms for another hug, and this time Shayne sank into it like a hot bath. Charlie’s hand went to the back of Shayne’s head, fingers curling into his hair. “I don’t ever want to hear you say you hate yourself, okay? That hurts more than the other stuff because you say it like you really mean it.”

Shayne gulped hard. Why did he always have to make everything so much more difficult than –?

“Okay?” Charlie asked, more sternly this time.

“Okay.” Shayne frowned, feeling another cramp flutter through his stomach. His heart skipped a beat as Charlie pressed a kiss into his hair. What was left of his resolve melted into a puddle. “Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

“I… might be slightly on edge because my stomach hurts,” Shayne mumbled, nuzzling his forehead into Charlie’s shoulder.

Charlie let out a sympathetic groan. He was sitting too close to comfortably use his palm, but he brushed the back of his hand over Shayne’s belly. “I mean, you’re entitled to your feelings, lovely, but having a sore tummy never helps. Was dinner too much?”

“Maybe a bit.”

“Okay, that’s useful info for tomorrow,” Charlie sighed, leaning back from the hug so he could see Shayne’s face. He also turned his hand over, so that he was gently cupping Shayne’s belly with his palm. “I’m sorry it hurts now, though. Do you want anything for it?”

“Just you.”

The twinkle appeared in Charlie’s eyes, like it had before things had gotten tense in the kitchen. “You have me, idiot.”

Shayne held Charlie’s hand in place as he sank back into the sofa, tugging Charlie along with him. A soft laugh escaped from Charlie as he got comfortable alongside his boyfriend, fingers tracing gently over his abdomen once his hand was freed.

“Try to relax, if you can,” Charlie urged softly, noticing Shayne was still frowning and gazing into space. “Everything’s okay.”

Even as warmth curled down through the solid mass of pain in the pit of his stomach, Shayne was gritting his teeth against the dark thoughts that tried to tell him he didn’t deserve these gentle, soothing touches. He closed his eyes and breathed through those thoughts, just like he’d breathed through the nausea before; there was a kind, beautiful boy on the sofa with him who believed that he deserved to be taken care of. What right did he have to question him?

He opened his eyes again and gave that boy a tired half-smile.

“What?” Charlie asked, his attention briefly snatched away from his own hands working on Shayne’s belly.

Shayne shook his head. “Nothing, just – thank you for looking after me.”