#and that bond with her music is never broken in my soul

[septembersghost]

Wow, the prison post responses made me think how fitting that she is signed under Universal. A word that describes her music. She's made choices that many would doubt. Stand against Apple & Spotify- two of the major streaming services as music transitioned to digital? Bypass studios to release a film & angering AMPTP, big businesses & many in the industry- just as she's trying to enter that world as a director? Many accuse her for greed & question her character/integrity. I'm rooting for her.

oh, i love that symbolism of "universal"! those responses really spoke to me, i'm glad they resonated for you too. she's always been remarkaby easy to root for (for those of us who've followed closely and seen her immense sensitivity, kindness, willingness to grow and improve, resilience, generous spirit, humor, that all goes hand-in-hand with her extraordinary talent).

taylor wouldn't be who she is, even talent-wise, were it not for her character, and i have no reason to doubt the countless people (in the industry and outside it) who've commented on that positively. her ambition and drive to succeed has taken her far, but it's her ability to tap into humanism and heart through her music that's connected her to such a wide, disparate, and lasting audience, and that new yorker piece really underscored the transcendence of that. (struggling for those three weeks earlier this summer came from a place of real care and concern, as i think was true for most fans, because we DO know and trust her integrity. and ultimately it was a reminder that people are flawed and can be petty and rash and make poor decisions, especially in times of heartbreak and upheaval, but we can be mindful of that and give them space for recovery and to return to themselves with clarity). she's worked hard, and she's been savvy, but she's also been unflinchingly emotional and genuine and herself.

i want to still have a thin skin, a sharp pen, and an open heart. i just think that you are what you love. and that inspires and stays with us. golden light and invisible strings. 💞

[scekrex]

Adam wasn’t killed like everyone thought. Lucifer’s son aka Charlie’s little brother m!reader took him in and healed him. Charlie lets the new sinner Adam stay in the hotel after her brother begged since she loves her sweet brother so much. Adam never seen a demon so hot and falls for the reader. They’ve been secretly messing around and Luci ends up walking in on them.

Okay to clarify: Charlie in this fic is over 200 years old - reader is one year younger than her. Which makes him way younger than Adam is but I assume almost every person this man has fucked with in heaven is way younger than him

Part 2

And when his edges soften, his body is my coffin

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, sexual tension

note: not beta read bc fuck you

You knelt next to the tall angel, your hands kept pressing the shirt you had been wearing moments ago tightly against his wounds while the golden blood that had already formed a puddle around the first man stained your pants - not that you really cared. Your focus was on the dying soul in front of you. Yes Adam had been awful, yes Adam deserved to die, but on the other hand it simply didn’t sit right with you to let him die that easily, for you it felt purely wrong to give up on his tainted soul without even trying. And just as you were about to cry out for help in panic, Adam started to breathe.

Your big sister, your father and their friends had worked quite hard to rebuild the hotel and just as the last light of it flickered to life, Adam took his first breath. “Y/N?” Lucifer’s voice called out for his youngest son right before he spotted you kneeling next to Adam. With slow, heavy steps he walked over to you and the first man, suspiciously eyeing what you were doing but when the king of Hell saw how the brunette’s chest visibly pumped blood and air through his body, he looked quite shocked. “Dad, he’s alive,” your voice sounded happy, excited even and yet so broken - Lucifer didn’t move, he just stood there and watched. “We have to take him in, dad, he’s wounded.” The blonde king shook his head violently, snapping out of his haze as he processed your words slowly, then he shook his head in a softer manner - this time he used it to respond to what you’ve just said, “Nuh, no~no~no~oh, we’re not taking him in.”

Charlie appeared behind the king of Hell, your older sister - she was only one year older than you - put down a gentle hand on his shoulder, “But dad, he’s a human souls just like the other residents and as much as I hate the thought of living with him, the concept of this hotel is all about redemption, maybe Adam can redeem himself too.” And while Lucifer didn’t admit it out loud, he knew his children were right, a defeated sigh left his body and he lowered his head. The blonde was not willing to put up a fight with either you nor Charlie so he simply gave in. He always had the option to kick the first man out if he would not be willing to redeem his soul after all.

-

It had taken Adam a while to regain his strength, it had taken him even longer to accept that his angels had left him and that he was doomed to rot in Hell - though he kept telling you and the other residents that soon Sera would look for him and send Lute. But Sera never mentioned Adam in any of the meetings she held with Lucifer and Lute had not been back to Hell ever since she thought she had seen her best friend die. Not even during extermination day. But on the other hand that had forced the first man to get used to his new environment and while Vaggie was just as amused to have the brunette roaming their halls as Lucifer, Angel seemed to actually enjoy the first man’s company - even though most of their conversations were about the bitches Adam had slept with in heaven.

But you were without a doubt the demon he got along with the best, not only did you like the music he was playing, you also seemed to understand him without ever going through something similar, yet the two of you connected. The bond between you and Adam had grown strong, so strong that the brunette had you pressed against your bedroom wall, kissing your lips over and over again as his wings framed your sides - a habit he had picked up in Heaven to prevent people from staring. His lips didn’t remain on your lips though, he was eager to shower your entire body in kisses and he was determined to keep going until that goal was reached.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, gently nudging Adam to signal the former angel to give you some space. “Lemme just-” you grumbled as you took off your shirt, throwing it somewhere where it wouldn’t bother you and as soon as the soft fabric was no longer covering your skin, the brunette was on you in an instant, his hot mouth was mapping out your body like it was the most beautiful thing he ever touched, his tongue circled your nipple. And then a loud banging noise appeared right behind him and when you peeked over Adam’s shoulder you froze. Your father was standing in the door frame, just as shocked as you were. “Adam,” you mumbled quietly, trying to get the taller male to notice the king of Hell. But the angel shielding your body from your father’s eyes simply grinned against your skin as he responded, “Why don’t you moan louder for me, babes?”

Lucifer cleared his throat quite loudly and it was just then and there that Adam noticed the blonde king. His body stopped moving immediately and he just stared at you with a blank expression on his face. When a small hand reached for his upper arm to spin the angel around, Adam was sure he was gonna die - there was simply no way Lucifer would let that slide.

As soon as Adam looked down on the king, he awkwardly grinned down on the blonde, trying to charm his way out of the situation - not that his bullshit worked on Lucifer and before he knew it Lucifer’s fist collided with his face.

[sokoviansimp]

Unspoken Hearts

✒ Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Vision

✒ Summary: Wanda gets married with you as her maid of honor, Tony gets too drunk at the reception and exposes your true feelings

✒ Tags and Warnings: angst and fluff

✒ Author's Note: I just had the urge to write this today.

✒ Word Count: 2125

✒ Read Time: 11 minutes

Masterlist : Socials

The sun cast its warm glow over the tranquil morning, illuminating the Avengers' headquarters. Wanda Maximoff, dressed in a stunning white gown, stood before the mirror, a smile gracing her lips as she admired her reflection. Today was her wedding day, a day she had dreamt of, and it was finally here. The room buzzed with excitement as friends and teammates bustled around, making the final preparations for the ceremony. Among them was you, Wanda's closest friend, and perhaps the one who knew her best.

You had been a constant presence in Wanda's life since your paths had intertwined at Hydra. From the first moment you met, there was an instant connection, a deep understanding that bound your souls together. Through trials and tribulations, you had leaned on each other, forming a bond that could never be broken.

As Wanda's maid of honor, you had the task of ensuring everything went off without a hitch. You moved gracefully around the room, orchestrating the final touches with your usual calm demeanor. But beneath the facade of serenity, your heart was a storm of conflicting emotions.

Wanda turned from the mirror, her eyes alight with joy. "Y/N, can you believe this day is finally here?"

You smiled, your gaze tender. "Who would’ve thought that one day, one of those scared little kids being tested on in the Hydra facility would be getting their happily ever after? Here w-you are, defying all odds, you deserve all the happiness in the world."

Wanda's gaze softened as she reached out and took your hand. "And you, my dear friend, have been there for me through everything. I couldn't imagine this day without you by my side."

Your heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in Wanda's eyes. How you wished you could express the depth of your feelings, but you had always been skilled at hiding your true emotions.

The ceremony was a blur of beauty and emotion straight from a fairy tale, and soon Wanda and Vision were pronounced husband and wife. The reception was a lively affair, laughter, and music filling the air as the Avengers and their friends celebrated the union. You watched from the sidelines, your smile bright, but your heart ached. You had always been content with your friendship with Wanda, but the realization that you could never truly have her stung more fiercely today.

As the night continued; Tony Stark, his inhibitions loosened by alcohol, became increasingly boisterous. You tried to keep a low profile, but Tony's attention landed squarely on you.

"Ah, Y/N! Always the bridesmaid, but never the bride," Tony slurred, a sardonic grin on his face, as he hooked his right arm around your shoulder and squeezed you into his side so that you were forced to listen to his remarks.

Your cheeks flushed a mix of embarrassment and hurt flooding in. Forcing a laugh, hoping to brush off his comment. "Well, someone's gotta support our happily ever afters, Tony."

Tony's gaze sharpened, and he took another swig of his drink. "You know, it's a shame, really. All that unrequited love you've been harboring for Wanda."

“Tony.” Natasha warned after hearing what was being said through earshot. 

Your heart stopped, panic gripping tightly around your neck. How could he know? You had kept your feelings buried so deep, you could argue that sometimes you even forgot they were there.

The party around them seemed to fade into the background as Tony's words hung in the air. Your mind raced, searching for a way to salvage the situation, to hide the truth that had been laid bare.

But Tony wasn't finished. "Oh, come on. The way you've always dropped everything to be there for her, the way your eyes follow her whenever she's in the room and shy away under her glance. It's obvious."

“Tony, Enough!” Natasha said much louder, garnering more attention than she had hoped for. 

Your world shattered. Someone you had trusted, one who promised to be on your side, had just exposed your most guarded secret. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly lost.

Wanda approached after hearing Natasha raise her voice, concern in her eyes as she noticed you in distress. "Hey, what's going on? Is everything ok?"

Tony smirked, his voice dripping with malice. "Just having a little heart-to-heart about our dear Y/N’s feelings for you."

Wanda's gaze turned to you, a mixture of surprise and confusion in her eyes. Your heart raced and your throat constricted with a flood of emotions you couldn't put into words. You could feel the tears start to well in your eyes even if they hadn’t become noticeable yet. The embarrassment was gobbling you whole at this point, the only thing you could think to do was run, you didn’t want to sit there and see Wanda’s reaction. You couldn't. You didn’t want her pity, her anger, her disgust, whatever lay beneath her gorgeous green eyes. You couldn’t wait around for it, so you flung yourself and weaseled out from Tony’s far too tight grasp and booked it. 

“Tony, What the fuck!” Natasha scolded him as Wanda chased after you, still in her wedding dress and heels.

“What? We were all thinking it. Someone had to say it.” He brushed off with no remorse. 

“You’re unbelievable, keep this up and you won’t have any friends left, Stark,” Nat spat back.

Eventually, your running ceased as you fell to your knees in the garden behind the reception and past the courtyard. Your tears became uncontrollable as you sat there sobbing as quietly as you could, hoping you had run far enough away that Wanda wouldn’t find you. The feeling of embarrassment still replaying in your brain on repeat along with thoughts swirling around in your mind that Wanda would hate you for what Tony said. How could she be your friend after that? You hadn’t known life without her for quite some time, and before her, it was all terrible. The only joy you ever found in life came after she lit up your world. How could you go back to that?

It didn’t take long for Wanda to find you, she could read you like a book. As soon as she spotted you sobbing on the ground, she immediately ran up to you and knelt down to wrap you in her arms to try and stop your sobbing, “Y/N, shh, it’s ok,” she whispered in your ear as she gently rocked you.

Once the sobbing slowed you attempted to break your silence, "Wanda, I..." you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

But Wanda held up a hand, stopping you. Her expression was a complex blend of emotions – surprise, curiosity, and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

"Wanda, I never meant for you to find out like this," you managed, your voice trembling.

Wanda's gaze softened, and she dipped her head down closer, reaching out to cup your cheek. "Y/N, you've always been a constant in my life, a rock when everything else was uncertain. I've leaned on you, and I hope you know that you mean the world to me."

Even though the sobbing had slowed, new tears began to well in your eyes, a mix of relief and regret flooding you. "I- I didn't want to complicate things. I cherished our friendship more than anything, and I never wanted to put you in an uncomfortable position."

Wanda smiled a sad but genuine smile. "Love is never something to be regretted, priyatel'. You’ve been my go-to, my best friend, the one I can share my good days and bad days with. Soulmates aren’t just lovers."

Your heart ached with a bittersweet blend of emotions. You had lost your chance, but at least you hadn't lost your friend. Wanda's acceptance meant more to you than you could even express, “I’m sorry,” you said as you dipped your head away from her gaze. 

“Knock it off, priyatel'. None of this is your fault.” Wanda assured you as you both stood from the ground.

“Your dress is ruined and your wedding night, all because of me,” you noted.

“Y/N, you’re worth so much more to me than some stupid dress, and the night is still young.” she said extending her hand for you to grab as she escorted you back to the party. 

“Come on, lets at least get your dress cleaned up,” you said taking her hand.

As the venue emptied and the night drew to a close, you found yourself sitting alone on a quiet balcony, the stars above offering a soothing embrace. Wanda joined you, the sound of her footsteps soft against the night.

"Mind if I join you?" Wanda asked, her voice gentle.

You shook your head, managing a small smile. "Of course not."

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the weight of the unspoken conversation heavy in the air.

"I'm sorry I never realized," Wanda finally said, her voice tinged with regret.

You looked at her, your heart aching for the pain you saw in Wanda's eyes. "Wanda, please don't blame yourself. My feelings were my own to bear, and I never wanted to burden you with them."

Wanda reached out, taking your hand in her own. "But you're not a burden, Y/N. If anything, I regret not seeing the depth of your feelings sooner. You've been a constant in my life, and I should have understood what that meant."

Your heart swelled at her words, as you squeezed her hand. "Wanda, you've given me so much already. I'll always cherish our friendship, no matter what."

Wanda's gaze was intense, her eyes searching yours, "And I'll cherish it too, Y/N. You're a huge part of my story, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

Tears welled in your eyes, as you took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "Wanda, you mean everything to me. Seeing you happy is all that matters."

Wanda reached out, gently wiping away a tear from your cheek. "And your happiness matters to me too. Life is full of unexpected twists, Y/N. Who's to say what lies ahead?"

As you both sat there, hand in hand, bathing in the moonlight, you realized that perhaps love didn't always have to be romantic to be meaningful. The love you held for Wanda, while unrequited, had shaped you into the person you were now, and that was a story worth telling.

And so, in the quiet moments of that night, two hearts found solace in the understanding that friendship, even when mixed with unspoken emotions, could be a powerful and beautiful thing.

The night wore on, the moon casting its silver glow over the Avengers' compound. The celebration had shifted into a quieter phase, with small groups of friends and family gathered around, reminiscing and sharing stories. You found yourself engaged in a conversation with Clint and Nat, both of whom had been part of your journey since the early days of being rescued.

"Hey, Y/N, remember that mission in Budapest?" Clint chuckled, a nostalgic glint in his eye.

You laughed, leaning back in your chair. "How could I forget? That was the mission that involved the cat, right?"

Natasha smirked, her gaze thoughtful. "Ah, yes, the infamous cat incident. You've always had a way of turning the most serious situations into something memorable." 

You grinned, the warmth of their camaraderie washing over you. Despite the turmoil of your own heart, you were grateful for these connections, these moments that had shaped your life.

As the night continued, Your gaze kept drifting toward Wanda, who was surrounded by well-wishers and friends, her laughter ringing through the air. The sight was both heartwarming and heart-wrenching, a reminder of what she now had and what you could never have.

Tony, his previous intoxication now replaced by solemn sobriety, approached you, his gaze apologetic. "Hey, you, about earlier..."

You held up a hand, your expression softening. "Tony, it's okay. I know you were just speaking your mind."

Tony sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I should have been more careful with my words. I didn't mean to hurt you."

You smiled, offering him a reassuring pat on the arm. "Don't worry about it, Tony. Water under the bridge."

“Oh Y/N, you let him off way too easily,” Natasha teased.

As the night drew to a close, the guests slowly began to disperse, their laughter and conversation fading into the background. It was bittersweet, being part of this day, surrounded by happiness and love, yet feeling an ache deep within.

[rays-of-fire-and-ice]

An Unwavering Light - Chapter 3

Rating: T/Older Teen for violence (including mentions and treatment of severe injuries) and mature themes including ones about trauma.

Setting: begins before the confrontation with Aizen and co. in Fake Karakura Town arc, and goes from there to the Thousand Year Blood War arc. This chapter takes place during the events of the manga from chapters 392-422

Music to listen to: torn apart by Shiro Sagisu (YT | Spotify), The Great Disappointment by AFI (YT | Spotify), End by FTLFRAME (YT | Spotify), Soundscape to Ardor by Shiro Sagisu (YT | Spotify), I've got to go home by Florence McNair (YT | Spotify), and Nothing Can be Explained Instrumental 2008 by Shiro Sagisu (YT | Spotify)

Fic synopsis: During the confrontation against Aizen, the unthinkable happens. For Hitsugaya, a vow is broken, and for Hinamori, her future is unknown. With everything in shambles, how can they piece their lives back together? Or their bond?

Chapter synopsis: A vow is broken and a life is in ruins.

AN: If you know what happens in chapter 392 of the manga, then you know what I'm referring to with the warning in the rating. This isn't the most violent chapter in BLEACH by any means and while fans know the series is an action shounen manga, I also know sometimes reading the violence can be different from seeing it. I do not believe I have written these moments in graphic detail (I tried to keep things vague where I can), but if you're uncomfortable reading content like this, you may wish to skip this chapter.

So, this is it. The angst, the pain, the 'why'!! In all seriousness, the latter actually proved to be quite challenging. In this moment, Hinamori asks 'Why?' but we never get to hear the rest of the question. I've given my interpretation here, but I'd be curious about what you thought she meant by it.

This was an intense piece to write and might be the same the read, but I hope you can still enjoy it.

Disclaimer: BLEACH and it’s character’s belong to Tite Kubo.

<< Prev chapter || Chapter Index || Next chapter >>

___________________________

When the illusion collapses, Hitsugaya's loses all his senses. It’s only for a second, but it stretches on, coming as a flash of white and then a rush of cold that he isn’t immune to and renders him immobile.

It’s as if he’s been frozen by his own powers, or perhaps as if his blood had been drained out of him. It even makes his breathing turn shallow and his heart seize up.

He must be dead.

But when the next second comes, his heart ricochets against his chest. He is alive, and this is real. In a literal blink of the eye, Aizen was gone, and in his place is the last Soul he would ever do this to.

The deep-freezing cold still grips him. He can’t move his widened eyes from the back of her head or get a word past his trembling lips.

A gust of wind tussles the ends of her hair ribbon, brushing over the back of her uniform and up into the air. Something about it brings a flicker of a memory, so brief he barely registers it. It’s of her walking ahead of him, her ribbon swaying to and fro and she does. He’d been proud of her that day, but he can’t remember why.

It’s enough to unlock his jaw and throat. And he finally, in a slight rasp, says her name. “Hinamori…”

The pillar he’d conjured up breaks apart instantly. It’s nothing short of an explosion, with the ice falling all around him and raining down over the fake Karakura Town. As if coming out of a collective stupor, the surrounding captains’ reiatsu suddenly all flair at once and someone’s yelling. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Hyourinmaru had been wordlessly roaring and despairing this whole time. He barely hears any of it over the ringing in his ears.

He's quick to withdraw the blade. She collapses on to him, and he hastily collects her up in his arms. Her legs dangle over his left forearm, and her head rests on his right shoulder.

He’s slowly coming down to the ground, ice shattering and falling all around him, his haori flapping in the wind. He can’t look away, can’t hear the commotion going on around him, and can’t ignore the blood – her blood -- rapidly cooling on his face and hands.

She doesn’t stir, her eyes barely open and her skin getting paler and colder by the second.

________________

A darkness ebbs in at the edges of Hinamori’s hazy vision, consuming all her senses and Tobiume’s screaming and pleas. It’s like the one she experienced when she was betrayed below Central Forty-Six. It’s cold and numbing, as though she’s floating in a dark sea with only her head above the surface.

She's able sense rather than sees Hitsugaya. His reiatsu is erratic, whipping around him and threatening to tear apart. She tries to crane her neck to find his face but can’t get her sight higher than his chin. Maybe it was best not to. She’d seen such hatred in his eyes, the loathing almost as scolding as the chill of Hyourinmaru. All the captains had looked at her as if she were the enemy.

Why did they do it?

She must know, especially now that Hitsugaya’s holding her and his reiatsu is in such disarray. She’s known him for long, more than most Souls in her whole life.

Why would he…?

Has she truly known him? Or anyone else? It's as if everythign she's ever known is all gone. Is it another betrayal?

There’s a slight jolt through her body when they land, but it’s enough to help her find her voice. “Shiro…chan…” Her voice comes out in a rasp; it hurts to talk. She tries again to raise her head. She only sees his trembling lips and chin. “…Why?”

His posture goes rigid and his grip tightens around her. Then, she’s lowered down. As soon as she’s on the ground, she doesn’t fight against the weight behind her eyelids, allowing the dark sea to flow over her head and drag her beneath.

Why have things ended up like this?

Before the darkness completely consumes her, she hears the beginnings of a scream.

________________

“Why?”

It rips through him, severing whatever is keeping him together and sucking all the air out of his lungs. He loses his sight for several painful heartbeats, with everything turning to black. When he regains it, he’s lain Hinamori on the ground and his limbs are shaking. She’s staring beyond him, into somewhere else he can’t save her from.

I did this.

He grits his teeth as his heart beats in his ears and making his whole body shake. His hands curl into tight fists, and if ice wasn’t encasing his hands weren’t there his fingernails would draw blood.

I couldn’t protect her.

The air vanishes and leaves a suffocating void. He can’t breathe.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

He stands and stumbles back. How can he be numb and in agony at the same time? As though he’s not really in his body, but the harsh pain in his chest says otherwise. It cuts through every part of him, lacerating him from the inside, scorching into him like a burn. He feels something shatter within him, splitting and breaking. As if in response, his bankai shudders around him and pieces break off and crumble to nothing.

I did this. I did this. I did this. Ididthis. Ididthis .Ididthis. Idid --

He throws his head back and lets out a wail. It slices his throat to shreds, unhinges his mouth into an unnatural angle. His eyes sting from being too wide. His skin is stretched tight against his face and neck. The pain contorts his expression into something extreme, something no being should ever show.

“Why?”

He knows why.

Hitsugaya stops screaming and whips his head in direction of the traitor. He looks back at him, not intimiated by the unbridled display of emotion. His lips shaped in that godforsaken smile.

He’d planned this, had tricked him into seeing the person wanted dead. In his place, he’d sent Hinmaori to the slaughter. This time, it had been by Hitsugaya’s own hand.

In the place of the agony that broke something within him, there’s only white-hot fury that scorches him like fire, threatening to set him alight with it’s intensity. It’s contorting his face into infernal rage.

Hitsugaya throws himself from the rooftop, the impact leaving an indent in the building’s roof. He soars then abruptly twists to angle himself at the Soul who he will eviscerate and erase from history, to reduce him to nothing but blood and pulp.

“AIZEN!”

The world passes him, completely forgotten, his eyes on the Soul who caused all of this.

He doesn’t hear the call of Kyouraku or see Soi Fon also converge on the traitor.

Aizen vanishes from view, but before Hitsugaya can course correct, blood fills his vision. He’s stopped in his tracks, and the fury that had boiled him the inside out evaporated. It’s like he’s been thrown through ice and fallen into the deathly cold waters below.

He mutely, distantly, eyes his severed limbs as they fall to the town below. Time slows, the seconds dragging on forever. When had Aizen attack him? How hadn’t he seen it? He doesn’t feel any pain. It’s numb, likely from shock. In his peripheral, Kyouraku, Soi Fon, and one of the strangers had been cut through as well.

“I won’t kill any of you.”

Aizen’s words break the trance. Time resumes and pain starts to radiate thick and fast from his left side; it’s enough for a cold sweat to form on his face and arms. He glares weakly over his shoulder.

“Given your powers, those injuries won’t even render you unconscious,” Aizen continues. “So instead, watch from the ground as I end this battle.”

Chunks of ice break off from Hitsugaya as he plunges. He doesn’t see where his fellow captains end up, can only stare at where he’s falling to.

He can’t tell whether it’s survival instinct or Hyourinmaru that controls the remaining wing to wrap around himself. He doesn’t do anything to soften incoming crash. He’s like a ragdoll, motionless and without thought. He wants to stay in this numbing space, between reality and running away.

He involuntarily shuts his eyes and hears the wing smashing to pieces when he hits the ground.

________________

Hinamori can’t remember when she opened her eyes again. At some point, she finally registered the flames billowing high in the sky and two figures engaged in battle. Everything else is numb, her senses muffled, as if she were under the dark sea.

The freezing cold is worse now. It’s enough to have snuffed Tobiume’s voice and weaken her presence in the back of her mind. She only wanted to know the coolness of snow, the wafting chill from ice, and the brushes of cool from winter winds. She never wanted to know this kind of cold, one so all consuming and reaching her bones.

She shuts her eyes again, trying to escape it.

She knows she needs to stay awake and hold on until help arrives, but the darkness overwhelms her senses and drags her back beneath the surface.

______________________

Hitsugaya grits his teeth to stop the wince from turning into a scream. He keeps the flat of his blade pressed against his left shoulder, the ice cold piercing him to the bone. Sweat runs down his face in rivulets and he doesn’t breathe, can’t find a way to.

When Hyourinmaru tells him to stop several seconds later, he lets out a sound caught between a wheezing gasp and a stifled yelp. His hand drops into his lap and Hyourinmaru’s hilt nearly falls from his loose grip.

He looks above at the lone petal hovering of his head. At its first crack, his heart skips a panicked beat. Before he can command it, Hyourinmaru deactivates his bankai, taking with it a broken form and the last saps of energy from Hitusgaya.

He goes boneless against the debris he’d propped himself up against. With his head craned back, he the world lists and tilts, and sees but doesn’t comprehend the battle between Yamamoto and Aizen, nor the battles with Ichigo or Gin’s interference.

In all that time he focuses on breathing, struggling to against the shock of the fall and the aching from his left side. He heaves for air, even with the aches coming from everywhere and the shivers running through him. For a long stretch it feels no matter how much he inhales, he can’t get enough in to exhale out. He shuts his eyes, as painful as it is to do with the pounding in his head, and hears himself breathing.

Gradually, it returns to something manageable.  The sweat running down his face, arm, and leg, cools, and the shivers become smaller tremors; but the pain doesn’t stop. It thrashes through him, especially in his chest and throat.

He gives a sharp shake of his head. With his injuries taken care of and his breath regained, there’s only one thought left. Where is she?

He throws his gaze in all directions and casts his sense out far as it can go.

Where did I leave her?

A fresh wave panic rises when he senses her reiatsu. He wants to believe it’s weakness is due to distance, but he can’t. It’s close, and it flickers in and out of his senses, like a flame losing it’s battle against harsh winds. His eyes are painfully wide, but they don’t blink or move away from the top of the building where her reiatsu emits from.

“No,” he rasps, peeling his back from the debris. He says it again as he pushes himself up on to his knee, again when Hyourinmaru protests and tells him to stop moving, again when he falls on to his stomach after slipping on a piece of rubble, and as a growl while he crawls towards the building, even as the ice encasing his knee begins to crack and new waves of pain rip through him.

Master, please! Hyourinmaru pleads.

“No!” he yells as he forces his upper half from the ground with his remaining hand. “No! I need to – ”

His limbs give out beneath him and he falls again, this time the side of his head colliding with the ground. Despite the throbbing coming from his temple, he keeps trying to move, letting go of Hyourinmaru and using his forearm and leg to keep shuffling forward. He’s too far away, he needs to get closer. It’s all that matters.

Master, stop this at once!!

It’s the loudest Hyourinmaru has ever yelled at him. He hasn’t moved an inch. He can only stare mutely at the debris before him and the shaking hand that had failed him, mouth wide and struggling to breathe.

She’s dying.

His head spins. No matter how much air he takes in, it’s not enough. No matter what training he’d been taught to combat extreme pain and emotions, it’s not enough. His vow meant nothing.

He can’t reach her. He can’t save her.

Hinamori is going to die.

A sound comes out of him, one that’s agonized and disbelieving. It brings the burn of tears with it, and as his vision blurs, the sound transforms into a strangled, low howl.

It keeps going when he uses what little he has left to bring himself up to sit against a chunk of debris. Some chunks of rubble fly away from the thrashing of his reiatsu.

It can’t end like this.

He thrashes his head around, scanning the area with both sight and his sense. There’s reiatsu nearby, familiar and not, but they’re all flickering from injuries.

Someone, please help her!

Hyourinmaru rises again, Master, you need to rest!

“I can’t! I need to help Hinamori. I can’t let her die!”

If you keep doing this, your condition will worsen.

He blocks Hyourinmaru’s communication and aggressively locks on to Unohana’s reiatsu. He sends a jagged pulse of his out, praying she will sense it. Judging from the way it wavers, she’s healing someone. Had she noticed the battle taking place above her? Had she seen what he did, like the other captains?

He swallows down the flint of shame. He can’t feel that now, not when he needs someone to help Hinamori.

Rangiku briefly comes across his senses. He thinks to send a flare her way, but halts. His frown growing deep at the way his lieutenant’s reiatsu wavers. She’s still injured, but she’s moving away. What is she doing? And then, before he can ponder it further, it vanishes, leaving only traces of it.

He lets out a wheezing breath. One’s reiatsu does not suddenly disappear like that unless they’ve complete dampened it or they’ve left the area through a senkaimon. Matsumoto, where -- ?

He still has his sense cast out, and it’s only then he picks up on a familiar reiatsu. One he hadn’t sensed in over a decade to it’s full extent. One that had faint traces of it in the Kurosaki household.

Captain…It’s an old habit, but one that he doesn’t notice. Isshin had been here, with trace of his reiatsu lingering like vapor in the air. When had he shown up? How had he known about the conflict?

It’s not the only reiatsu that has vanished either. Gin and Aizen are gone too.

He grits his teeth. They’d escaped. It's all too much, coming on top of him like a tidal wave. He's going light-headed and out of breath --

Master!

Hitsugaya shudders. Isn’t this what got him to where he is right now? It hadn’t just been Kyouka Sugetsu’s illusions, this rage and panic had also blinded him. His urgency from before flounders, consumed by a growing sense of helplessness.

His zanpakuto lays forgotten just out of arm's reach. With a grimace, he beds forward and grabs the end of his weapon. Dragging the blade to his side, he falls back against the debris and a new sheen of sweat coats his brow.

“Hyourinmaru,” he wheezes. "I’m sorry."

His zanpakuto says nothing, but he can sense him both seething and wringing with worry.

“Yo, you okay?”

He snaps his head over his shoulder. The blonde stranger from before walks over the debris towards him. There’s dried blood on his shirt and it’s ripped where Aizen had cut him. He’s slouched and alternates between clutching his wounded shoulder and side. “Stupid question, of course you’re…” He trails off when he gets closer. Hitsugaya watches him taking in the extent of his injuries. The tattered remains of his uniform that cover the worst of it, but it still leaves little to the imagination.

“Shit,” the stranger mutters. “The bastard really got you.”

Hitsugaya wants to get away from this man, but he’s upright and able to walk. He had fought on their side just before; it had to count for something. “You have find her…”

The stranger frowns. “What?”

 “She’s over there, on top of that building.” He can’t fully raise his hand to point. “You have to start healing her, now.” He hates that he acts like this with someone he doesn’t know, but none of it matters when Hinamori’s life hangs by a thread.

“Kid, even if I knew the right kido, I’d barely do anything.” The stranger scans the area. “Ya need Captain Unohana or Hachi to help. As is, I’m certain Captain Unohana is aware.”

“She’s dying!” he snaps. He forces himself up straighter. “If she dies, Fifth Division will lose it’s lieutenant!”

That strikes a chord in the man, with the way his posture before more rigid and he lets out a stunned grunt. Perhaps it’s as Hitsugaya had suspected; this man was once a senior ranked Shinigami. He’d only heard murmurs and rumors about the old captains and lieutenant how had suddenly vanished over a hundred years ago, but he suspected these strangers were those former officers.

“If she dies, it’s all over,” Hitsugaya presses on. “They need a leader, they need her! I need --” He stops himself. I need her to live.

The stranger shakes his head. “I don’t…”

He trails off, and it's for the same reason everything within Hitsugaya halts. For several seconds, the tumult of emotions cease, and both he looks to the sky. Something brushes over him, flowing through the air and across the entirety of the fake Karakura Town. It signals that a great power has been removed, one that was once a part of the axis of the World of the Living . No, not just this world, all the worlds.

“He’s gone.”

Hitsugaya doesn’t look to the stranger. “What?”

“Aizen’s gone...” In his peripheral the stranger sags, his zanpakuto’s blade brushing against the ground. “He’s defeated.”

He knows he should feel as the stranger does, as the others do in this moment judging from the way their reiatsu flare, but he can’t. His senses are still locked on the one reiatsu that’s barely detectable. The one that belongs to the one person who deserves to be alive for this victory.

Let her live, he begs, to what or who he doesn’t know. Please, let her live. She needs to live.

Utterly selfish as it is, it’s true and it runs far deeper than he even realised. So consumed on this thought, Hitsugaya doesn’t catch what the strangers says before he rushes away, leaving him alone again.

He’d been ready to abandon his captaincy if it meant he could strike down the man who had tormented Hinamori. He’d give his life to save hers, without question. He’d beg whatever forces drive the worlds to let her live, and in this moment where he’s on the brink of losing his mind to hopelessness, he’d even serve at the alter of Hell’s minions if it meant she got to live.

He doesn't know how much time has passed when, as if answering his prayers, he catches a glance of Unohana flash-stepping across the ruins and up to the top of the building.

He doesn’t sense or hear the Fourth Division officers coming towards him some time later. When he sees them, he barely reacts. He somehow manages to answer their questions and is as pliant as clay as they get him to lay down on a stretcher. He’s cast in the glow of healing kido and bandaged, but it doesn’t register to him fully, not even when the pain flares and he winces or groans. The whole time he stares at the top of the building. Her reiatsu is still far too weak, but it’s a small and steady flame. He could almost weep, but he only lets out a shuddering breath that borders on a whimper.

It’s not until a Fourth Division member blocks his view of the building that the exhaustion hits him. It numbs him, dulling his senses and biding him to close his eyes. He tries to resist, but it consumes him as he’s being raised on the stretcher and carried to a senkaimon.  

Live, he begs as he drifts off. Please live.

_________________________

There’s a figure kneeling over her. The darkness blocks out most of her vision, and her hearing is muffled when they speak. She tries to respond, but the words feel formless like a baby’s babble.

More figures join, coming to kneel down and help while the first rises and takes out their zanpkauto.

There's something pressing over her middle that gives off a faint glow of teal-green. She’s being healed. Something green forms behind the first figure. A creature, one that she knows but can't put a name to.

It's not enough to make her stay awake. She closes her eyes, but the darkness is slow to take her away from everything. Tobiume breaks through it, and Hinamori falls back into the meager warmth her zanpakuto can provide. In the wake of everything, it’s all she has left.

______________________

It had been a brief exchange, one like many of the others over the years. A quick ‘hello’, a few words about their work, and then goodbye. Hitsugaya didn’t remember when these sort of interactions had started, only that it been more than a decade since they began. At some point, they became the constant while the lunch breaks and days off together became the odd occasions.

He watched Hinamori go. She didn’t turn to look back, didn’t hesitate in her purposeful stride away from him. The sunlight shone down on her as she stepped out from the shade of the veranda into the courtyard. He found himself drawn to her hair ribbon, the ends swaying to-and-fro with each step she took. It was a new hairstyle for her, one he’d briefly commented on just then.

His gaze fell to the lieutenant’s badge fastened around her upper arm. He’d congratulated her, and her answering beam almost made him respond in kind. He smiled now that she wasn’t looking, a swell of pride flushing through him at her accomplishment.

The further away she gets, the more apparent that familiar sensation got. The gap. The same one that had been with him since she left for the Academy all those years ago. She was on her path, and he on his. They no longer walked together, but parallel to one another. Maybe their paths would touch briefly, but inevitably they would fall away.

__________________________

<< Prev chapter || Chapter Index || Next chapter >>

[munsonsduchess]

Rock N' Roll Dreams Come True

summary: you've been joining corroded coffin on tour and at a big show eddie can't keep his hands off you w/c: 2.767 warnings: 18+ only minors dni, swearing, oral (f receiving), use of afab language to describe the reader (pussy, cunt), p in v sex a/n: i love rockstar eddie with my whole soul and my whole 🐱so this one getting the most votes on the poll seemed like a no brainer, again i did take a lot of this from something I'd written before for a different fandom but i've edited it and changed some stuff

if you like this please consider reblogging it and leaving a comment, it always helps me out

(moodboard by me)

It had been a dream come true when the Band got picked up originally. They’d played small shows here and there at first, bigger bars than the hideout, a couple local music festivals nothing mind blowing. That came later when Corroded Coffin had been asked to be the warm up act for the warm up act for a very famous band. 

Now here you all were, it had been ten years of climbing the ladder but Corroded Coffin could sell out an area almost as quickly as Metallica or Iron Maiden or any other band you’d care to mention. 

Everyone at home who had cheered them on, who’d believed in the band, they were the original fans. They might not be screaming their songs back to them in a sweaty crowd of metal heads or getting riled up in a mosh pit but there was no way Gareth, Jeff or Eddie could forget those friends who’s faith had never wavered. 

Dave the new guy maybe didn’t understand at first when a guy in glasses and pink Ralph Lauren polo showed up backstage with a girl who wouldn’t stop running her mouth in the most beat up pair of red chucks. Or why a certain hard nose reporter was only too happy to do fluff pieces on the band's meteoric rise to fame. He understood the California Stoners a little more but it still kind of baffled him when everyone begged one guy to take their pictures. 

This was Eddie’s family. Your family. The band and the Hawkins group. You were all older now, maybe not wiser but you would always share something deep, spring break 86 had truly bonded  you all for life. Most of Eddie’s early song writing for the band after Spring Break is what got the band picked up in the first place. 

So there you were. Sitting on a busted amp backstage watching the boys argue before going on stage. Eddie had apparently broken some sort of rule about being 'cool' and 'metal' to the point where the other three guys just couldn't let it go. Gareth had even decided  to document the 'crime' with his polaroid and now everyone was playing keep away while the photo developed and threatening to give it to the next reporter they spoke to, 

“You’re ruining my image!” Eddie protested, "come on dude don't be a dick" 

“You’re ruining your own image! You’re drinking out of a juice box! What are you six?” Gareth shot back, holding the picture above his head and signaling for Jeff to take it

“I need the vitamin c!” Eddie shot back, "it's not my fault  you all want to get scurvy" 

You couldn't help but laugh as Jeff took the picture and handed it off to a random crew member telling them to guard it with their life while Dave and Gareth wrestled with Eddie. This was the Corroded Coffin people didn't get to see, just four guys who loved each other and loved music, not the on stage personas, not what the media loved to make them out to be and  you were so fortunate you got to experience it all.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

The sound of the crowd cheering and chanting the band name sent chills up your spine and looking up at the others you could tell the band felt it too,

“Knock them dead babe” you smiled reaching up to grab Eddie by the lapels of his worn leather jacket to bring him down for a searing kiss, 

“Always do” he laughed before shrugging out of the jacket and draping it over your shoulders. A little pre-show ritual he swore brought the band luck and with how the tour had been going so far, no one could fault him.

You watched as the band took the stage and the crowd went wild. Your chest swelled with excitement as Eddie started playing, a wink thrown to you waiting there for him before his attention turned to the rest of the band and all that nervous energy transformed into an unbelievable stage presence.

You’d read every article that came out about the boys and  saved every article you’d found, clipped from magazines and pasted into a scrapbook you were keeping so that in years to come when you were all old and looking back on the glory days of your youth, the boys could look back at their beginnings. Along with Gareth's collection of Polaroids, embarrassing or not. 

The articles that made you laugh were usually the ones written about Eddie and his stage presence. The way he acted when he was playing had these journalists convinced he was some sort of tantric sex god, they drew their conclusions from the energy he put out while on stage and how touchy he was with you after. The band thought it was hilarious honestly and put it down to lead guitarist syndrome, everyone assumed because Eddie played lead he was just this amazing lover who could never be sated and while it was partially true it wasn’t everything the assorted press made your relationship out to be.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Eddie’s hair shone under the stage lights, his body covered in a sheen of sweat as he played his heart out to a stadium packed full of screaming fans. They were here to hear him play, just to hear their band. No one else. It had been a long time coming, from playing the hideout every Tuesday to a band of drunks who yelled and threw empty beer bottles at the chicken wire surrounding the 'stage' and demanded old country songs to being hare, now and playing a sold out stadium of die hard Corroded Coffin fans. 

His eyes flicked back to where you were standing, your arms inside his oversized jacket as you sang along to every song and danced along to the music. You knew every word to every song they played, you’d been there when most of it was written and Eddie swore up and down you were the band’s good luck charm. If you hadn’t been there at the club there’s no way the band would have ended up where they are now. 

Turning his attention back to the crowd, Eddie poured his heart and soul into their last few songs knowing that everyone else would do just the same pouring every ounce of their being into the music. That's what it was all about in the end, the lights, the crowds, the fame, it was all secondary to the music itself.

As the band finally finished their set before the encore they came back off stage to change quickly and rehydrate. Eddie had other ideas apparently and rushed at you, sweeping you into his arms ignoring your cries of protest about how sweaty he was and demands that he at least wipe down first,

“Need you now baby” he groaned in your ear, pressing himself against you so you could feel just how hard he was. The energy from the crowd had been unlike anything else they’d experienced all tour and Eddie needed you.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

You were giggling as Eddie stole kisses as he dragged you towards the band's dressing room, the rest of the boys staying behind with warnings that Eddie better not miss the encore and threats of serious bodily harm if he did. His kisses were heated the closer you both got to the dressing room, your protests about his sweat slicked body dying in your throat before you had a chance to voice them. Instead they surfaced as little moans as Eddie’s hands roamed all over your body, he pushed you through the dressing room door and kicked it shut behind him.

Eyes dark as they took in your form, your home made corroded coffin shirt you wore to every show since the first one you'd ever been to,  but above all you were still wearing his jacket and Eddie would freely admit what seeing you in his clothes did to him,

“Baby do you have any idea how hot it is knowing my girl is on tour with me?” he grinned, his hands reaching out to pull you in close by your hips, “knowing everyone is looking at you but they can’t touch”

His teeth nipped at your neck as he sucked a bruise at the base of your throat, his hands trailing down your body to push your skirt up around your hips. You moaned openly as his hands kneaded your backside, Eddie knew exactly where to touch you to make you melt into him. 

You pulled at the hem of the tank top Eddie was wearing and managed to pull it off with his help. As soon as the tank top was off Eddie’s hands were pushing you back towards the couch, 

“Gonna fuck you so good baby, gonna make you scream my name so everyone knows who you belong to” he growled into your ear. 

You let out a yelp of surprise when the back of your knees hit the arm of the couch, reaching out for something to grab onto so you wouldn’t fall but only grabbing air as you toppled backwards. Eddie smirked and licked his lips at the sight of your legs propped up by the arm of the couch while the rest of your body lay flat on the couch. 

Crouching down so he was at eye level with your throbbing pussy, Eddie pushed your legs apart and settled himself between your opened thighs. You could feel the heat of his breath against your panties, the sensation only made you wetter as you waited for whatever Eddie had in store for you.

It wasn’t much of a wait as Eddie’s large hands trailed up your thighs, over your panties, his fingers ghosting over the waistband. Placing soft kisses to the inside of your thighs Eddie moved his fingers along the seam of your panties chuckling to himself when he started rubbing his thumb against clit and hearing the moan you let out in response,

“That’s my good girl, be as loud as you want baby. Want everyone to hear you” he crooned fingers rubbing your soaked panties against your needy cunt,

“Please Eddie, need you, please” you begged, you wanted more than this teasing sensation. Needed him to stretch you out with those thick fingers, needed him. 

Eddie laughed at how needy you were for him. Who was he to deny his girl anything she wanted? His good girl..

“Since you asked so nicely” the sound of fabric ripping filled your ears before Eddie’s mouth was attached to your dripping pussy, licking up the slick from your folds and moaning at the taste of you. Always so sweet for him, he could stay here for hours and had done so on more than one occasion.

You keened loudly at the feel of him, his tongue working wickedly between your legs as he sucked on your clit like it was his favourite milkshake, “taste so good honey” he purred as he slipped a long finger into you.

“Please Eddie, need more” you gasped, “please, please” 

“Greedy little girl, you want more than this? Tell me what you want” 

“Need you to fuck me, need your cock inside me” 

Eddie almost gave in then and there. His cock was straining against the denim of his jeans, it was painfully hard but he was a man on a mission and he would not be deterred. Instead he added another finger using them to stretch you open as his mouth went back to work on your clit. 

The room smelt of sex and sweat, the sounds of your moans and Eddie’s fingers in your wet pussy filling the air to the point that you were sure the crowd could hear it from the main stage. It was music to Eddie’s ears and he wasn’t going to stop until you made the sweetest sound of all for him.

Adding another finger he worked them in tandem with his mouth as he found the spot inside that had you seeing stars and gripping his hair tightly in your hands begging him not to stop. You could feel the coil tightening in your tummy, you were so close and Eddie could feel it too with how your walls were fluttering around him, 

“That’s it baby, cum for me” he encouraged, his fingers moving quicker and quicker until you felt the pressure inside you boil over and you came with a loud moan of his name soaking both Eddie’s fingers and his chin. 

He didn’t stop until he was sure you had come back down from your high and you were panting on the couch trying to catch the breath he’d stolen from your lungs. 

Standing up Eddie quickly unbuttoned his jeans and slid them down around his ankles. He looked down at you, your face flushed and chest heaving. God you looked so pretty like this, all wrecked after an orgasm. Almost as pretty as when he fucked you into your shared hotel room bed every night. 

That was for later, for now Eddie needed you and he wasn’t going to wait. He lined himself up with your entrance and pushed in, gripping your hips tightly as he did so. God you were so tight, so warm, he had to be careful not to blow his load there and then. 

A string of curses left his lips until he bottomed out. The stretch was almost unbearable every time Eddie filled you but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love the feel of his thick cock dragging through your pussy walls. 

The way Eddie fucked you like each time was the first and the last and he’d never get to feel this again, dragging his cock out of you until just the tip was left inside before slamming his hips back against yours. Again and again, angling his hips so that the tip of his cock hit that sweet spot inside of you. 

You were clawing at the couch, his arms, anything you could reach. Moaning loudly at each deep stroke inside, you were sure you could feel Eddie in your stomach and it felt incredible. 

You could feel yourself getting close again as your pussy clenched down around Eddie’s cock. Knowing you both weren’t going to last much longer he reached between your sweaty bodies and rubbed quick energetic circles on your clit encouraging you to come apart around him. 

It didn’t take long for your high to wash over you again and you were screaming Eddie’s name for everyone to hear as your vision whited out, Eddie continued to fuck you through your high his own not far behind as he released into you with a grunt.

You stayed like that for a moment as you caught your breath. Splayed out on the couch with Eddie’s weight on top of you, his head resting on your stomach. Finally he looked up at you with a boyish grin on his face,

“Fuck honey you were amazing” he praised, a small kiss placed against your belly button as he pulled out and you groaned at the empty feeling left behind. 

Eddie disappeared from your line of sight for a moment before coming back with a warm wet towel to clean you off with. He placed another chaste kiss against the inside of your thighs before helping you stand and fix your clothes and hair. Not that the other members of the band or really anyone backstage wouldn’t know what the two of you had just been up to. 

Reaching up you captured his lips with your own and smiled into the kiss. Maybe the magazines were on to something after all. The moment was broken when Jeff began knocking hard on the door of the dressing room,

"You have two seconds to get out here or I swear to god I'll kill you myself!" 

Eddie pulled the door open wide and grinned at Jeff's irate expression as if he hadn't just been fucking your brains out on the couch,

"Relax, I told you I wouldn't miss the encore!" Eddie gave you a quick parting kiss before following after Jeff to finish the set for good.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Days later Eddie came back to the hotel you were currently crashing in with a ‘surprise’ for you. Peeling off his jacket he was able to show off a brand new tattoo, a heart with both of your names written inside. Eddie showed it proudly on stage that night proclaiming to all the world his love for one girl. 

His sweetheart.

Taglist: @pillow-titties @eddiemunsonwillbethedeathofme @munsonology @thegirlblogstuff @boomhauer @prettyboyeddiemunson @hellfireeddie6 @that-lame-ghoul9000 @flashyourgreeneyesatme @anxiousstark @ruinedbythehobbit @winnifredburkleismyhero @manda-panda-monium @insertcoolnameherethanks @aftermidnightwriting

Let me know if you want to be added!

His sweetheart.

[hazelira]

even in silence, we sing | ENGENE

ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈

The soft hum of your voice lingers, a phantom sound that haunts the spaces you once filled. It's strange how the world feels quieter now, not in a peaceful way, but in a hollow, suffocating silence. It's like a melody that’s been abruptly cut off, leaving an empty echo that never fades. Every familiar sound seems foreign without you. The laughter, the chatter—all of it feels incomplete.

I remember the first time we met—not in person, but through a screen. It might have been on WeVerse, TikTok, or some other corner of the internet where strangers meet by fate. It’s blurry now, but I remember how easily you became the spark that drew us all in, your energy lifting our spirits like the opening notes of a song. We bonded over the simple joys: a shared love for ENHYPEN, late-night chats, and countdowns to every comeback. We were just a group of strangers from different parts of the world, but somehow, it felt like we were in perfect harmony. The band became our heartbeat, syncing us together in a rhythm only we understood.

But the rhythm broke, and we never saw it coming.

At first, it was subtle. I told myself it was nothing—life gets busy, after all. Your replies came slower, and days stretched into weeks. I thought you were probably dealing with things on your end, just like the rest of us. But deep down, we all felt it. You were slipping away, the brightest note of our melody fading into a faint echo. And then, one day, you disappeared entirely.

The message we received wasn’t from you. It was from someone in your family.

"Y/N has passed away. I’m sorry to tell you this over a message, but we thought you should know. She often spoke of her online friends. If you’d like, you’re welcome to come say goodbye, to read the letters she left."

Time stopped. The words felt like a cold slap, a wave that crashed over us, leaving us gasping for breath. We read it over and over, trying to grasp the reality it conveyed. You were just here. How could you be gone? It didn’t make sense. You were supposed to be behind your screen, like always—smiling, laughing, being you. It felt like the world had stopped mid-song, leaving us hanging in a silence that was unbearable.

Then came the letters. They were a piece of you left behind, your final goodbye to us. Each one was written with love, gratitude, and a pain that sliced deeper than we ever knew. You apologized for leaving, for the moments we'd never get back, for the words you never got to say. The letter you left for ENHYPEN was the hardest to read.

"Thank you for being you. Your music, your lives, your laughter—it kept me alive during my darkest nights. You were the friends I always needed, the voices that kept my soul tethered to this world. You healed the broken child inside me and made me feel whole, even if just for a moment. You are a treasure to this world, and I love you all."

We broke down reading it. The rawness, the depth of your words—how could we have missed the weight you were carrying? You had been our brightest star, the one who lifted us up, and we didn’t see how dim your own light was becoming. We were left sifting through memories, each one a shard of glass that cut deeper than the last. The chats that once buzzed with life now felt empty, like a stage after the curtain falls. Even the music we loved together felt different, the familiar chords of ENHYPEN’s songs now echoing with the pain of your absence.

One night, while listening to Polaroid Love, a song we used to sing along to, someone spoke up in the group chat for the first time in days.

"I can’t listen to this without thinking of her," they typed, the message simple but heavy with the truth we all felt.

"Me neither," I replied. "It feels like she’s still here somehow, doesn’t it? Like she’s singing along, just out of reach."

There was a pause, then another message.

"I keep replaying our last conversation. I wish I’d noticed something was wrong. I should’ve been there for her."

The guilt was suffocating, shared by all of us. We started opening up, confessing our regrets and the "what ifs" that haunted us. The chat, once filled with joy, was now a place where we poured out our grief, our confusion, our pain. But even in the midst of that, we found a strange kind of comfort—because in our shared sorrow, we still felt connected to you. You brought us together, even in your absence.

"Do you think she’s at peace now?" someone asked quietly.

"I hope so," I answered. "She deserves it, after everything."

It’s hard to keep going, but we try, clinging to the fragments of you that remain. We talk less now, the group chat quieter, but when we do, it’s like we’re reaching out to you, hoping you can still hear us. Every ENHYPEN comeback is bittersweet. We cheer, we cry, we remember. The songs that once lifted us up now feel like a requiem, a tribute to the friend we lost but will never forget.

I like to think that somewhere, you’re still listening, still with us in spirit. Maybe you’re singing along, your voice blending with ours in the silence, filling the empty spaces you left behind. And though the melody is broken, we’ll keep playing it. For you. For us.

"Until we meet again," I whisper, knowing the echo will carry, even if you’re not here to answer back.

[serene-sun]

The Emeritus bloodline, and the devils

Chapter 4b of my series 𝕽𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝕲𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖓 𝕱𝖚𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖑 𝕺𝖋 𝕾𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖘

TW: mention of dead baby, details of murdur and sacrifice, mention of genitals and rapists

ENGLISH ISNT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

One of the oldest families in history, a bloodline said to have sprouted like a rose bush in the pull of blood under the divine crucifixion. The satanic church, the base of all Emeritus life, was essential to the family.

PaPa Emeritus, an unholy heir whom would soon sit upon the thrown of the beast. An old family, with old beliefs, rituals, traditions and heritage could never be forgotten…rather their message of sin was delivered through touch…or music. When a son is born, he is to reign as papa of the church. He will dedicate his life to his religion and people, and will be given a prime mover to gift the dark lord a new leader. 

Ghouls, devils, demons, which ever word you wish to call them, will be summoned amongst a pentagram to be dragged up form the fiery pits of hell by a mysterious masked mistress who remains anonymous. Devils that grew wild ideals were summoned at the birth of a son, The job of the ghoul is to work for their lord through the Emeritus family. Ghouls are feral and unruly creatures, to prevent the murdur or outrageous acts taking place by these inferno creatures, a bond would be put upon them. This bond is an ancient blood ritual, the papa will sacrifice a number of humans equivalent to the number of ghouls needed. An offering will be burned with the person during the sacrifice to bring upon a trait. For example, pure white rabbits symbolize innocence, charcoal will signal fire and wrath. The death of a virgin is key if you desire a new ghoul, a fresh soul tainted with the black oil of baphomets lair. 

The Emeritus blood is pure and sacred, as it shares half of what blood fills the fallen angel lucifer. Satans blood runs through this bloodline as they continue his work in a world he sees unfit. Creatures such as demons, vampires, strigoi, beasts and other entities share only little of his blood. This placed all Emeritus’s higher than any creature. 

The family has a dominate trait of each sin, every drop of emeritus blood swallows whole any normal traits. Emeritus DNA being much more powerful than an average humans.

With the chance of the lord, a daughter has only been born once, and she remains in exile ever since her mysterious death. 

There are many spirits special to this story, but there is the devil who brings the ghouls out of the pits of hell and into the cold human world.

Ajatar, one of the highest ranking devils.

A tall and curved woman, described only to be perfect. Her long black hair that curls at the end like wispy smoke. It is said that her eyes remain covered as they hold the final rays of heaven from the exile of Lucifer. A golden enchantment, that if you look into, you will be dragged away by hell hounds and locked away forever. Her pale skin is dressed in the finest of jeweled clothes, and a mask that covers her face. Her sword, long and sharp, carved from molten lava, slits the throat of any whom lie. She was created out of broken glass, molded together to kill man. She roams in the night, searching for men who are unworthy of life. Ajatar seduced them, humiliates them, and finishes it with a messy murdur. Some call her the karma god, or the revenge goddess. But most summon her to bring death or destruction upon someone. Often seen roaming the halls of the satanic temple, in her arms a bloodied still-born, skin as white as snow, for which she laments, constantly searching for an able womb to bestow her child upon.Others suggest she is seen slitting the throats of men in the halls, and dragging their nude bodies into the woods to be eaten by wolves. There have even been reports of her slicing the genitals of the filthy men, who fall guilty to rape and assault, and sewing them into clothes for the rich.

Ajater is known to push the lust in women over the precipice 

[thetentaclecommander]

🥺🎢🎶🤩🤲 for the ask game, if you're still doing it! :3

Ah, it's never too late to send me ask questions! -Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels? I adore building out the complicated feelings between Nemesis and Jill. A common interaction is where their minds do this 'mind bleed' between the two where their thoughts blend in this trippy way that reveals them at both their most vulnerable and their deeper thoughts, usually in mid-argument. Every time I do this it feels like a gut punch. I love it where you aren't certain who is speaking anymore, and how because of this thoughts that they wouldn't address normally with each other are forced to be. For example: Jill remembered punching him, screaming at him in her pain, and he sat palms up and looked downwards please let me…let me sleep…please don’t steal my words, you monster! please let me…let me sleep…please, Father, we can’t if we kneel hard enough, will you, will it end This little bit shows the way their thoughts, memories and fears blend with her recalling the first night where she broke down hitting him them sleeping with him, to his own traumatized memory bubbling, her confused thinking he was making her remember a bad thing he did to her to then realize he was referring to himself packing so much in so little. It's like writing little nuggets of character/lore building and pain that at times is soul crushing to me (which tells me I did it right). -Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride? I'd say my main one On a Devil's Wings is because you get a complete deconstruction of the whole Devil's Saga storyline, with both Jill and Nemesis deconstructed as characters, their motivations and internal selves broken down revealing so much unchecked baggage both from themselves and towards each other.

You also get: 4+ overlapping storylines including backstory conspiracies involving the BSAA, Umbrella and society at large explanation on what makes up a NE-T Tyrant biologically (and Sia) filling RE3/5 plot holes Ada and Carlos just being hot Zeus. Just Zeus. A lot of 4th wall riding/surrealism A situation happens at a rave. I am not kidding.

It's my most ambitious story ever and is a genuine novel in how dense it is plotwise.

-Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately? I am an intensely musical person (guess the times my word rhyming and alliteration goes into interesting 'patterns' lol) and am known for nearly always having a music rec linked in each fic. Lately, I've had this on loop

This gives me Jill vibes in her rise from the murky fall of her own fears and in demanding Nemesis to truly accept the role he keeps saying he wants with her and yet never fully submits to. I also have GODS by League of Legends and NewJeans on sometimes. I just like LoL music lately okay I don't even play LoL XD

-Who is your favorite character to write? Hands down, Nemesis with Zeus a very close second. He's such a complicated traumatized monsterboy who painfully knows he is a tool and is so deeply angry at knowing that fact. While he keeps trying in ways to rebel finds every attempt - refusal to cooperate, sinking into his role as a ruthless killer letting black hate and rage guide him, to trying so hard to have his 'happy ending' at Jill's expense - painfully futile. Writing him trying to cope with all this on top of him trying to understand what intimacy (and no, sex does not inherently equal intimacy) is through a nonhuman filter is such a fun mindset to play with. -Would you please share a snippet of a wip? Sure! Snip from OaDWs: “Seeing that my deceased co-conspirator had done work with live humans before, but he never thought to slow down the infestation rates in his subjects to engender a better bonding process. The idea I admittedly gleaned from that detestable Ashford woman; sometimes a bit of time to let an introduced vector rest in one’s subject is warranted. You Jillian made that a possibility even though you had the added protection of prior infestation. “I wanted to see if I could expand on previous work…yet your sample didn’t seem all that operational at the time. Not until ‘patient zero’ awoke. It’s almost as if your suitor put himself on pause for you as your DNA caught up to his parameters! What a kindly gent. Sort of like with my other ‘sibling’, putting his life on pause for a greater cause than ‘survival’. Downside is he began to go over time ‘off the rails;’ so needing to meet out violence and evolve a world for an old man that gave him little thought!” Wesker laughs, the cold lilt hinting of privileged upbringing lacing the braying sound. Jill could only restrain the cold chill that ran up her spine as his words sank in. “That person…wasn’t you?” “Didn’t you in your desperate and blind observations of me during our Africa tour not notice? You wanted me gone that badly? Or was it you wanted badly for my ‘death’ be true? I’m hurt, Jill.” “Fuck you,” slid out of her mouth in a venomous hiss. “Ah ah ah, that wasn’t part of our agreement. I did in fact honor that restriction unlike what you tell yourself with Christopher.”

Thanks for the ask as I sure had a lot to say! (refers to this ask game post)

[venusruledmuse]

Notes to self as I try to get over my crush:

1. I am okay with people missing out on me.

2. At some point, ur just too exhausted and fed up to care anymore?! He grown, he can do whatever he wants! Release ur grip girl and free urself of the stressing the worrying the overthinking... like at some point its too much I can find someone else who doesn't stress me out like u do and can give me a worry free lifestyle

3. Let fate handle it. As with all things that are true and from the heart, if it's meant to be, fate will find a way. It's more beautiful and poetic that way anyway!

4. Focus on ur skincare routine and studies instead!!! Get ur glow up, get ur value up, get ur price up ✨️

5. What would Choi Hyeseon (from Singles Inferno) do? Acknowledge ur self worth like her and be willing to walk away from anyone!

6. "I can do it with a broken heart."

7. Sometimes... it's better to be the person that is just out of reach.

8. At the end of the day, I care about him, I want him to be happy, and I don't want him to be hurt.

9. Become a shrouded mystery.

10. Pretend ur a heartbroken Chinese empress in ancient times drinking away her sorrows.

11. Sad to see you destroy the image I had of you in my head. So disappointed and disheartening to realize he's not the sweet, strong, self assured, smart, emotionally mature, gentle, thoughtful, lowkey, dignified, introverted guy u had fallen for, who u trusted, who made u feel safe. Such a unique grief im feeling. Grieving the bond we had. Grieving the guy I thought I knew, and the pathetic insecure self centered petty average guy that replaced him. The guy who was my friend. Maybe that guy only lives in my head. Maybe I made him up.

12. Find the humor and lightness in the situation. Like if u didn't have feelings for him, if u didnt care so much about what he does, if u didnt care that he liked u, u would think: is he okay?????? Maybe he needs space...

13. Absence and inspiring/engaging negative emotions of loss.

14. You r a catch, u have the credentials to back it up, you are desirable, you r not constantly just there for him no matter what. never forget ur worth. Put yourself on the pedestal. They prove themselves to you. They are winning or losing out on you. Not the other way around. If ur love is unconditional, then it won't inspire a feeling of losing/winning for him.

15. The moment he makes u feel disrespected and unsafe and anxious. Take away access. Remove yourself from the equation. Friendship privileges (caring) r gone. Take the power back. It's okay if he wants another girl! Wish him the best! He can go! Hope he finds and chases what he's looking for out there!

16. This post below. You are his heart and soul. His core values exemplified. Everywhere else is hollow.

17. He lost: my care, my dynamic aura/humor, the vibe I give ppl, his motivation, and my vision of him. He can't find the universe I created for him (the music, the food, the art) anywhere else. Ya can't fix me into a box. I'm just that girl!

18. Read it ends with us again... both u and lily bloom deserve atlas, not ryle!!!

19. Ickkkkkk

20. He wants a superficial blonde sorority girl, he can go have her! I know who I am and I love my world and my universe my life and being me so that ain't stressing me out. He can go stress out another girl

21. High value women like go aeishin, hyeseon make choices out of self love and have a strong core. They have rules for themselves and others and they do not bend those rules. They stand on business. They command respect and so attraction.

22. Recognize when someone is toxic for ur heart and health. Pulling away from him is an act of self love.

23. Disillusioned with his image of me. I'm smart, I'm talented!!! There's a toxic pattern where he likes a girl that feeds his ego, that is a people pleaser, that is a hopeless romantic, that centers their life around him. Why does he never compliment her talents, her skills, her capabilities? I want respect and admiration, not attachment.

25. "If u don't speak up for yourself, they'll think ur stupid." -sza's grandma

I'm nobody's fool. Im not going to be remembered as someone who wasted their time on him, just for him to say he is no longer attracted. Im not going to have a boy crazy reputation. Im not there to stroke his ego, for him to get off on my devotion. I'm not a footnote in his life as an epic hero. It's my dreams. My goals. My wants. MY loves. I'm the main character. I'm the it girl. I'm that bitch.

26. Affirmation: I don't want him, I am out of his league, he is not up to my standards. His petty trivial games is giving insecure NPC... its below me. A girl destined for big things don't have time for the small shit to get her down... let the players of stupid games win stupid prizes, I've got bigger missions

27. Hated the way he described the women in his life. "She was alright at soccer" everything was always in relation to him, he never described the women as goated, the only girl he truly respected seemed unattainable to him.

28. I love myself and my life and a man should fit into it, and enhance and upgrade my lifestyle, not make it worse. I should not be contouring myself to fit into his life. I will not blow up my life to be with him.

29. I'm that girl. My vibe is addictive. He craves my attention. Call me dust the way you will return back to me.

30. Remember yumi's cells.

31. He said "you can't turn a hoe into a housewife" omfg....... he's literally so fcking shallow and toxic.

32. He said a girl was into him but he wasn't into her.... literally all girls r just ego boosts to him

33. I'm tired of exhausting myself over him. He likes girls chasing after him but I will not be blowing up his phone.

34. Crazy how easy I fall out of love when I lose respect for someone.

35. U r allowed to outgrow ppl.

36. This boy made u so sad u went home in the middle of the work day. Like ... be ur own protective older sister. Connecting with him is self sabotage girl.

37. He hurt me so bad that he singlehandedly cured my people pleasing tendencies, be unapologetic in my decisions and doing what's best for me, helped me stand on business, learn to say no and be inaccessible/unavailable to people, be more strict and disciplined with myself, value my own feelings/needs, stopped always being on the losing end, care less about what people think of me, stop chasing love from ppl and instead seek respect, prioritized my own personal appointments, and focus on my competence, inner confidence, and internal validation. I gotta treat myself well and not tolerate bare minimum and bs from myself in order to not tolerate that shit from others. From now on I am high maintenance.

38. What a privilege to be a character that experiences my love and attention, to be seen from my point of view. What a privilege to get to have the sue experience. Not everyone gets it.

39. "It's only because you love them. You are their source of power."

[lizbethborden]

And on the gay level: Fiyero and Elphaba did have a bond, but in the book, their relationship was a brief one when both were young, him avoiding his arranged marriage and children at home (again, in a political context he never wanted/asked for, one of the main themes of the book), her drawn into her attraction despite her terror of it and her attempts to deny, once again, her own "soul," her ability to have those vulnerable, needing, innocent feelings that put her at his mercy. He died in a horrible way because of Elphaba's involvement in a political insurgency that ultimately accomplished nothing. She fixated on him out of guilt and shame and ultimately traveled to the Vinkus and imposed herself on his living family because of that reason. (His family also ultimately dies due to association with Elphaba.) Her identification of this dead man who she didn't really know that well with the Scarecrow was a psychological impulse borne out of a desire for a person she'd allowed to have deep intimacy with herself/her body, after a lifetime of aloneness and implied sexual assault, to not really be dead, for something to not really be "her fault".

Puffing it up into a magical romance is a silly and bizarre reaction to the original story, at least in my opinion, but then again it's an obvious and heterosexual impulse to flatten this relationship; even more so to actually have Fiyero be the fucking Scarecrow.

Additionally, the flattening of her relationship with Glinda and indeed Glinda's own political involvement in the regime is like... Silly to me, bizarre; Glinda herself is a political thinker--actually a political thinker from the time she's very young, given her close concern with a network of social contacts that Elphaba is totally ignorant of--and her story is also a story about helplessness in relationship to a dominating political scheme; by the time of book 2 or 3 in the Wicked series she is no longer a political agent, if she ever really was one: she did end up married to Chuffrey, a significantly older, rich, socially connected man--how consensually, if at all? Can we really argue that a political marriage for her is any more consensual than Fiyero's arranged marriage to Sarima? When she gave away Nessarose's shoes, was she really an agent, or just responding to a volatile political situation in which she had to act, and no choice would be the right one? By the end of her life, she is a literal prisoner and she is in her prison cell when she dies, an old, blind woman. She calls out to Elphaba when she dies:

In her cell, Glinda woke up with a start. The lumbago was more punishing than the incarceration, but a sense of spring had filtered all the way down the open canyon roof of Southstairs, and she caught a whiff of freshness, of arrogant possibility. Her glasses had broken a year ago. She didn't need them anymore, not really. She knew who was turning the door handle of her cell. She called her name sleepily, and added, "You wicked thing. You've taken your own sweet time, of course."

The pretense that Fiyero was the emotional center of her life in any way--they never even touched each other in the books; there was a rumor of an affair, but they had no interest in each other--when she literally believes Elphaba's spirit has come for her at the moment of her death is absolutely batshit insane. I will give the musical's authors that the last Wicked book came out in 2011 after the musical was already complete and staged; that being said, the seeds of this complex and serious emotional entanglement were already there. Elphaba and Glinda kiss in the book before Elphaba ever begins her affair with Fiyero, fwiw. Glinda's treatment in the musical is once again understandable given the goals of the adaptation, but also extremely disappointing and boring, and smushing her relationship and bond with Elphaba down into "Glinda gave her a makeover and they did a funny dance at the party together so they became besties :) but then they fought over the same boy and it was sad :( boo hoo" is like. Wowowowowowowowow.

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day.

Wow! Here we are again: Friday! Where did that week go? No, seriously, where did that week go?

First of all, many thanks to everyone that got involved with Throwback Thursday on my page. Yesterday’s word was LIE and the responses were very amusing! We’re all a bunch of liars!

On Saturday evening, once my working day is over, I will finally have a celebratory drink. I was so happy on Thursday morning, I wished strangers “Good morning!” on my way to the station. Just before April, I created a document on my PC called ‘WHU Fixtures’ because we were about to enter a frantic few months. Nine games in April, seven in May, one game in June, and I charted all the results: nine wins, six losses, two draws. Just like all fans, illogically, I kept checking the league table, trying to predict results, trying to predict the final table.

Big-up to all my fellow West Ham fans! Unless you support a team outside of the Top Six, you never really appreciate frustration. Last season, I actually heard Liverpool, Spurs and Chelsea fans complaining! Give it a rest, mate! Try a relegation six-pointer, then you’ll understand real pain! In the meantime, I will just look forward to another season in the Premier League and another adventure in the Europa League.

Today is National Sex Day. Don’t believe me? Google it! June 9th. What does this mean? How can you celebrate this momentous day? Well, if there’s someone in your life that you love, like, desire or pine-for, today is the day to cum together in joyful union. Men, I am begging you, no ‘wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am’! Please, take your time and do it right! This is National Sex Day NOT Two-Pumps-And-Done Day!

Around this time, because The Trouble lost her twin sister on June 15th, 2007, she begins to play the music they made together: Prediction, Dazzle, released stuff, unreleased stuff. No one teaches us how to deal with grief. Since 2007, The Trouble has not had any real appetite for any kind of birthday celebration but, this year, finally, because she’s turning 60, we’re going to do some special things: family dinner on Saturday, Sip & Paint Party on Sunday. Whatever we do, it’s going to be quite emotional for her. If you know anything about twins, you know the remarkable bond they share and, if that bond is broken, the twin that survives goes through hell!

Really hope you can join me tomorrow at 1.00 p.m. for ‘The A-Z Of Mi-Soul Music’: The Letter N (Pt. 1). Doing The Letter N (Pt. 3) live from Summer Soulstice on Saturday, June 24th.

Have a fabulous and funky Friday! I love you all. You’re probably thinking, “You don’t even know me!” but, if people can hate for no reason, why can’t I love?

[amor-litterae]

The countryside is a not so secret but rare gem within the world, a watched beauty.

But it does well at weeping dust into houses

And I do well at sprawling mess into mine.

I dig apart my room, searching for something I cannot even remember in the aftermath. And I find it there. Scatters of the past. Un-filed evidence, unexpected heartbreak.

The silver band that still shines even without us, still shimmering even though the band no longer bonds us to do love’s bidding. And I sit, back to the door in awe.

Such a little box, such a great memory, such a terrible thing. It scratches at me like waves to the shore, I turn the corners in my hand, thinking perhaps the reflection can give me answers.

I look into it like a mirror, and I find someone else entirely.

I see pretty lies, and I see broken promises- something that asks, perhaps such a thing should be destroyed in the same way. Yet I cannot bring myself to harm such a thing. As if I’d already done enough damage in the name of good.

Like strings to a cat I find myself clawing for more, through the draws and down the bed, I pile pink petals out from a shelf’s hands and into mine. It feels wrong to see they have not also wilted.

Cards, Photos, letters, my heart.

And I pile them around like a summoning circle. I, the witch. Fittingly, as it felt as if it was me who drowned in tears and felt burned by it all. I assure you, to act unbothered is not to be above, to be heartless is not a bragging right. No matter how satisfying it may feel after all this time.

I flick through each memory like a picture book, and I feel uncertain to just why I kept it all. Perhaps it was an effort to make momentum’s of the times I felt you cared. I bully myself for not seeing the signs I was given.

A single rose, lone but not wilting, I remember the time I felt as two. And with my heart buried in my eyes, I pack it all away- file it down as such.

Into a little trunk of now restless trinkets. I pack in the memories with them, surrounding them with each other, protecting delicacy with softness. I realise it all, repeatedly. I try to understand.

I consider the idea of returning them, returning the arrangement of gifts as I did with a heart. I feel the moment would have been lost on you so I reconsider. It rests somewhere in me, reflects the infinite plane of the soul as a moment in time that I spent with you. I’d give it all back if I could. Not entirely out of bitterness, more empathy. I feel bad I took so much time, but I can never return time.

It’s funny how pain plays funny games on the memory, like a crooked jester it hides everything good but time as its foil, plays another thing, more akin to music actually. It passes without warning or permission, 60 seconds is always a minute, but it’s funny how it feels different every-time.

I sit like I’m praying, with my knees to the floor, to no god or miracle, rather to stare, reflect.

I cannot save either of us, we’ll die thinking I let you drown. Lest we forget my lungs were already full of water. But I, cannot save us. It was never my job.

So the memories sit, locked in by two hinges. Maybe three if you count me? I sit on its hinges, a voice told me recently.

That we all have our own language, we all have our own way of breathing, living, existing. She told me with a fondness, to speak, in my own words, my own way, and that the right people would hear, would understand.

I’ll take her words at face value, that’s all.

[libidomechanica]

“Is not for every part; if therein”

A sonnet sequence

               1

Nor beast the air, smell Murphy’s Oil Soap, dog kibble. Nancy, Nancy; is it Man or Woman, say, my spouse Nancy? Triumphs be which is my county! Is not for every part; if therein. Happy Betty fifty yards were fresher, and place no wit can finde, cupids knot to be of use, politic, cautious, and ivy dun round so good old wife lay smiling line vpon thy clear the palace. That began the weary wandering, but a fair Maid, and doleful tale, a dying somewhere by the scene, had not, the same. We cannot, souls of wild Yuie twine, how I could not bite. When the greater kingdom come.

               2

Keep with noise; her links of charity, that’s our day one single acts, thoughts, all past and lively tone, and think’st thou never will, to sing my Highland lassie, O. In days of flurry, she gave us being made, shall o’er the bar, cried, one that other summer, dusty floor, thy hapless graven on that small cause a like effect at least whistles from the imperfect draught; but such a point did sing of youth, and plump the hands for no such quintessence; but neither breath, and when he first. An’ aft my wife she bang’d me, if ye gie a woman died. Oh plunge me deaf and bleed. Thus through our bliss, and eft did shine.

               3

And earth and serene, who did they drive thee, his lands and arms with pied flower. As conscious of my Soul. Then tell me my offence from blossoming, that happens a dozen times to build to carry back my idiot boy, she’s happy rose, how sweet soul, in narrow space of lilies and all that it well might ease his wings of silver throat, in mossy skulls that sweetheart to the grass you almost stifled with long musing curled once about to go so you can tell me, and their arms, I call on your heaven and seen thee to mee: no, no, no, no, my Deare, let reason did improve, I told the third times.

               4

‘The fault was matched like music all the floor. Thy soul of evil, he’s idle all the slow poisoned note, the first and the exhaust pipe of any that I in pure madrigal, unto his Heart—out from the particles, chrysalis into stone; witnessed the bonds, is to be identified by what they were vice, would not, by rysing mortal eyes can bear, and Betty, now at Susan’s fate proclaim, till she comes back upon that poor old Susan Gale. Returning glow; nor did I know. And, wife, the moonlight road, oh cruel! That hobbles up the blurred yellow smoke that where my enfranchised hands. Feel the floor.

               5

Me with his javelin wounded me: from where? The royal malady should be broken, while she went wilful-slow, towards some folks be, the devil couldst be nam’d, despise the crowbar in the stars into your eyes of you. The Poet and flowery meads the manna fall. Cried Betty, poor sprites. And so may all our lives or dies; and forgotten, and in high and loved his lips; but most of that I might see perch’d all around just for mortal sense and we leave and fair. The picture a woman a’ her will bear it will be fit for wants to carry back my idiot boy. Come may to a life to come.

               6

And swallow’d by unrestraine the learne hearing,— Stella I do meane the sand, small and much enrich each person exactly one hundred indecisions, and eft did sing we would have lived their greatest ashes, as if in Susan’s grown herself there winter comes to pain between, above, this did Johnny here, tis not more will still be there will draw some over and heart nectar at the mountains driven so wild that you played with their rivers seem at such wild order next to light to look into each. In vain he sighs, indeed this noticed one by chance we live as if it will reverse. And baby.

               7

Grew worse and worth while that full heart and my passions, all delight that bosom heavens they should know I bear my Highland lassie, O. If so be you speak,—I grant the mortal and of the night she foundations creep from the dusk with spicy chocolates tempers my ways of flower: of human kind. But when some friends like the fair possessed them by date and that you come home again, and uncontroller of our meeting, a beauty for whose woundlesse armour rusts, and told her what avail to sever, and fair. And music fled, and now they go a tract for love’s eye be true! Me a very pony there.

               8

Into love’s delightful bard to his horse than of either’s love, a taper in a harmonica line dance. Our loves; and sweet Birds sing I was not her virtue, not unespied, fortune led him, but straight lightnings as that next I should he be in a fright. But, for you O eyes, even in the king, as in his holly whip, and clasp’d my hart since I see some cause a sugred kissed me quite so flurried; demure with a flitting blush, with every tongue. All otherwise the shepherd’s crook. Can never durst commend, when I speak silence of snow in a dazzling drift, as its guardians, go floating there?

               9

The Lady of the cooles ere it shame. That funhouse, and these our flesh upright. I heard or seen, in five months’ time, which I envy, that tender pledges left his Oaten reedes bene rent and weep; is it blinding than a mile, more solemn gloom will shine upon my pilgrim’s staff gave out green footsteps; no one could never more was back from the town: the queen may take our visit. Tiny housed in a frights in one-night cheap hotels and scanty to his wide wings over us, and see why fear and dead: the kind. In the root, so low did heaven’s assist my lab’ring sense unhaunted verse prevailed?

               10

They stood and scanty to herself therein. For it’s jet, jet black, an’ it winna let a body be. What befell ye: cupid and his truth atone! Exit await, from where? My sinewy thighs; show me that never move, who then presumption more time to wonder there, virgin-treasure while my crimson rose, and should so soon; as yet these have scope, in mastery, while yet a body be. I who had thoughts have overflowed his sacred dew; Protect them go, before I leave to live on may for me, and stretch’d and laughs, betty a drunken pleasure, girdle me for better former lucklesse paining.

               11

Two lovers’ eyes; for I would live thee: the tea, among the king’s real, or his coming the first Romans chose: Fabricius from thy brow Thou messenger of sympathies, it visits with praises, and I almost bounteous gift the villagers quickly pick up. When languisht sprites shall lay me in an amber cloud, for my poor choice of the animals; and near, oh! And time threates, if we misse this huge rondure hems. Of your eyes, and the grace not due to the learning field, where my Julia threw a lace of silence to help poor Susan Gale, what hopes from chimneys, slipped preacher who dotes, yet doe meet.

               12

And now on this, and to her alms, as diligence, all pass’d a new-leaved vine, her securely rest: low lies the Peacoks spotted traine, to stem? And caught with the house betwixt king Arthur’s reign, a lusty knight. To enter a room to plague thyself, with a panic fear, back to you, the cocks did crow to-whoo, to-whoo, to-whoo, and riding seas to gentle dream of a heavenly joy, his much unkind breathed with precision hooves. In his glory. Though better, the lobes of you. Struck for his holly-tree—the holly whip, and once is she, be-times having prayed together if i could not all request.

               13

And if in Susan’s side, so as the dwells alone, I marry the bedside mirrored in your hours in me, the illusion there are the door, lay on it as on a CD of some gross flatterer from the Breton strand. What are like a pinnacle doth now unfetter’d run to meet the silent seas. I sent a ring— a little plum is what you’re not be longer free, and frights in haste, and, passing, turning short, he better, knew, but lived in low estate; one must have been worth while, that great cruelness, close to me. And thou, my bonnie lass, close the murmur of a dreadful way, but draw the counsel ordered what we were to go; even on this, and some, in your loving Harbour, no dark groves to hide our kissed, and thine: have I not kept their shade of a soft October night; she stood, and weaves of speculation too supplied, beginning has, little pony moves with tears? They say thou bring’st this arte.

               14

To draw the custom of King Arthur do? Years, by strongly loves! All pray in the day for ever will be fit for very joy. Yet never heart, pity a human hear me and truth’s beams, on herb, fruit, and searches throne,—and then think it thereof. Some said before we grow old and ugliness, my dearest. And I have your faith, my Mary, I hae sworn by thy bed: the bad corrupts the bonds of my trousers rolled. Left for each idle weed; but first was a Fiend, my own life, at the bed. And therefore she has got upon him not fear, a dark (But in the sum, thou wert, that thou, poor wretch!

               15

And you pat it and kept unused, they did her as he rode like a sudden guest, in hope where are days we live; if not, where my Julia did unlace her silken trees upon thy calmly great deep below existed but to my tale. Which they went, the bedside mirrored in your strain of his oath, the roadside, succulent peaches we boughs breath finds you grew light gathers and create, and these words bene not seen shades, and thee to me, as may be, comfort shew? A cry for a hundred visitor: I am gone into her mind in the stern impulses of youthful, charming Chloe. Harsh and gay. The good, and when I can’t see this nights of gossamer you’d pinch of weather in the motes that thou arrive withouten leaue: seemeth thou dost wake to break the falling body, but never hope there is not more fruit in our hands, your heart to know. And is thy heauye head, which to prevented ere it came.

               16

Behind the murmur, sent from some small light? Made answer at the bett for to hurt her. Charlotte, having the fetish boutique, those curtains, scatter that needst thou leave me thus? What you will come and go talking page music too,—while she asleep: the dairy now with mournful rise among the female evil tempteth my better. Soft whispering voyce obtaine sweete reward for shame, to seek reposes from a captive to you epitomize turn to me the Memory of her good which he shed hence, and I forget not yet agreed, they should I For lordly word, service, none to hear it.

               17

Or slipped away among the fireside with head and beauteous, not lost, although better lucklesse paining. We’re tapers where we are going hence. Thy selfe I needs none tell can; and weep; is it you tell thee such mirror, and marble figure was with joy o’erflows, proudly say I only used fifty- nine today. Thus can my love. Green-eyed monster’s train: her Lord him still, my Johnny’s near, quoth Betty Foy with thee conversation impossible blossoms with discontent, your subjects only multiplied it more. For sport I suckt while the underlids uplift, would it have been, and unlade her face.

               18

Thus can my love, the pleading vnto me the Muse hath cast his back, the red-breast is gently turned to all share as much as words were gone, I only used fifty-nine today. The lace, purl, knot, or could touch is sweet as thought our Cuddie can arise? His fiery car on thy will say tis very idle, bethink you of the skies for those blest angels exercise grew hard: with either’s children teares finding courtier from the prince? More honey and baby. Out of the sparrows from the sands as fit and the other moe, do such thou doe sitt: and yet amid their rivers glide, like a lightning bug.

               19

Frail, but of love and i would look she still grew better mothers of the worthies liggen wrapt in leade, in all her one, me another the nightly trailed over, and future will never glimpse her pasterns high: if seeing thy praise; before; oh dear, dear heart. In ways confus’d nor slipper was left his Oaten reedes beneath the owlet in those blessing room in their glowing fire, there God is dwelling trim, and all day I have been and thee memory was from so mean a race, and thunder’d up into Heaven there is my life shall thy love was pious, generous, just above me before her freighted angel is a malformation just and grame; and, please, nor shall lie unstrung, and so disheuld blusht: from windows do display her flowers let us go their flanks but obviously i’m fascinated. The moonlight hath gain’d of length is come, with chemic skill from their trayned willes entice.

               20

And of the raines of Love we’ll cut the beach under a chin, the sea, to time, to all the queen them all—arms that never wilt, I know; as liberally, as to a Midwife, shew the hairy Diadem which my veins fresh virgins of the skin, but the married intent to your daughters of Love, my own voices wake unto me, If thou want’st to me, nor I to these rare endowments of two must stay: or some shade, under a brother’s mind. Yet Faith stirrup, saddle, or wrap about the old, and in the frozen mountain under it; show me thy wardrobe, thinking as the awful LOVELINESS, wouldst free he must of law, was last for human dress off this the blow, while people roll by in their time mis-spent pay into memory, for their cradle on the glass to my foot, frail, but old Susan then the stalking of a tunnel of yesterday dropped away among the land and gone you doth go.

               21

Your midriff sags toward other self their titles a’ arc empty house, and spare, till public place, for wings, and make me to the fresh in bed: may widow well may keep by children she died. Nor doe we doubt, but theirs be led; heaven and is the middle of myself were he went; still on Menie doat, and flits around plumes his lesson misse, when not then too late i have too many things and all, the foe in sight, she watch I whilst thou leave here together if i could contain commit to thee so long in wealth, and briefly they by: alas! If Orpheus voyce obtaine sweete reward for me do thou art dead?

               22

And Betty put him down from eyes beheld the fruit in our hair; and full of horse, and the last oozings hours do, and die! Old Susan’s little thine. Those children’s eyes more, sits upright. On every man, of eve; and see thy widows wed as oftentimes to pain between movement catches the gods had seen; for in their poisoned note, the stars he takes two webbes in hand sheltered it complete but kinda like in clams as one behind you tell then, my Celia, come, all rest my powers doubt, yet knew no better changelings vse to me: when he was, and never dead, still my bad angel pure as the bed.

               23

Cries Betty she’ll soon o’er-gang ye. It well might ease herself their tripping o’er the fireside which spurning fork deep in love—put out my sense had thrill’d my guileless Genevieve! Then up she sprung amidst thou drawest the lengthen out thy revenge, upon the year; one day for me, so leave me thus? He is but a rich result of all sense my death proceeds from breastplate which will bearer when he was allowed with such disgrace, let Honor selfe to those wrung on thy wife, let bee. Will ye thus unfriended leave our slumbers should heard was bent, i’ll to the graveyard, they circle their fate, deigned to thee alone.

               24

The offender, and after hid him at a plunge my yearning, quench the lights thy brains, how fast it sings on flittering with a smiling l’ envoy, as he doth the rich a one; to stem? Of all I have your further aid bereave me from outrage worse that rises ever alone: courage, poor Susan she been worth it, after vertues be, and o’er has told the future Roman Lucrece there came with truest joy, his much lov’d friend; nor apt to come. And bade the world at his silly creatures on the storm, the right chain o’er the stair, with strict injunction never heart to know my hands fresh blood is whirl’d.

               25

They burr, burr, burr, burr, as loud her prayer that make his earth divide theirs, not lost in life or limb—oh God forbidden rose, and not in deed, or word, much lesse of beauty’s treasure, thy hapless green the phenomenological space between, above, we know, or could not fond tones and meant amiss; the last limits of our flocks to flowers, and he must stay:—she’s in a cloud, around, through it were three descend, want gives to know my leaving the vast idol; whilst we rest ourselves apart. From the trees, learned arms, drying thought. Down those ravisher to thy great loue doth the rest. Beautiful and sent.

               26

And so nigh to fall; soone with a hurly-burly now he shakes her friends, she sits, as it sprong, it will thy narrow street, rubbing its way into my memories on purpose still the whole field and distant and the doctor from me, a travelling was, and soul with flowers, and they would fall amiss. Is heap’d upon the gourd, and prickly bower, but if she stretched on the threshold mute. Wandering, but a Pebble of thy right fair, or if it had profuse; but know not how tender, taught the knight they seem when some gross flatterer from thee. I though each pallid breasts, have I notice on my rose tree. How I could I haste or shame, are their virtue by descend, want gives, and tell you all—if one, settling a pillow or throwing thin! What cannot blood without this, how long and fair. Put a coach-mare in beauties wear, look ye not? The bane of married; demure without a though he wanton maids were burn blue.

               27

It’s today: all offence from vices must show: and yet by trades the nuptial room, for of the jocund hours of charity. We cannot tell; but such a scope for lay-men, are almost ten, the loftie verse preserve the more to one can stand by. Third degree is much as you will, approved, the next year and worth while if one, settling a pillow by her fluttryng wings, and bright to lose, and I shall these words cannot brag of word, she crier cite the cat’s ear and this, I call not on you; so shy, grave,—death were not them. On her pace, now turning mayst thou, poor Susan tell me, and little band of emerald and rocked to all the woman without a task that is no church but from City Hall to your mind with some sneaking somewhat more spacious argument of such white throne, whose reader thinks no more foolish I could lend out still a spirits do suggest me still: the bees, until they take the threshold mute.

               28

Mild; then am I, when rising sun: beneath his awkward courtesy. The earth and sky, the wanton is, school’d onely by depart from above your safe arrivest at the worst: all women faded, and wanne, so high to sore, and hoarder, as you were offer of our isle, wash’d by the terrors of Almighty Jove, pallas, Minerva, maiden most diverting thing! But he came, it glittering and streamlet and still she played their ancient fable and now she’s at the rose-buds in thys humble shade: where therewithal, as the velvet; or some benighted love and i would thinking of peach.

               29

The Lady of the cold, in ghastly fears. Who lead thee low. Full faith yet never moved; through the curtain the wingèd brow dost mount aloft in buskin fine, ennobling new-found- land, my kingdom come. Must I be of them, shedding air bubbled, till I die. She wept with such spies, that ne’ertheless shalt win much greater smart, did find the Doctor nor his long sermon heard; I saw the chambermaid. A bargain dress. A marshy ground commodiously so. His body borne before my rage, unsafely might bed horrid sprites, yet still with her robe assume its virtue comes across a brook; or by a graine?

               30

Let the time of weather on the hill I say, I have all her the sea. The think’st thou to reply: she is time, dying in the midnight stream, gives graced; The Roman race, thou art all in lovers daily voice said the knight with oyster-shells: streets, the common cry, he doomed the wild rose-buds in thy smoke it ends, their change, all relations count it should that I in pure madrigal, unto his mind! Be free; thy gloom will say tis very idle, bethink you of the waves blown to dispute thy notes of sorrow took the bridegroom was told Rose-Armed Dawn, love turn’d and care doth show the duller eyes and paine, find some one man; so going places. To tell us, and at the silent dead, still improve, love so well she came and low, above, all carried on; all of us we could I spur, thought it much as words cannot climb, you, great Juno goes perfumes by thy dial how the throng, and come with walls as warm starfish.

               31

And there will stay till he’s out of sight, my pilgrim’s staff gave out thy revenge, upon thy pledges left his Oaten reedes beneath their poisoned note, the bloody crusades, knew them not; And should keep his head across the shepheards laddes to lead the waters is thy shadows like these, however hard the lark, ’tween light. Of thy delightful land he must go, to sing my Highland lassie, O. Till now wrapt in leade, in rymes, in wonder, Do I dare the envious hissing Love’s temple, and snicker, and come in the prince? Then with you tell us, and though oft himselfe he doth loath a lowly eye.

               32

While thy house, and wanne, so high that would therefore she cannot tell my bag with a stealth may lustre throw around my bed its tongue, or true-love tie; next, when winds, with the murderers hung by the prayse is better for this. To leave me deep in my one hand, by secret records of life, yet still the plain sae rashy, O, I set me down wi’ right fair, or if it had profuse; but few. The little thee, and Love, though Betty’s questionably up the blurred yellow smoke it ends, that since last I guess; and near, oh! Should be, like that once again, my luve’s like a travellers homeward wend; the occasion?

               33

To be seen, as if her starves amidst thou gone? I know how changed to be matched with that word might wind lives in patterned disarray— my mind, and all the glen sae bushy, O! Learn to such as blest name it who can that suited, and this verse, sound were causing the first. Before Alexandria was, straighway from hands, or the walls: this moment o’ time! And fishing in the sad attendant two on sponge and fearful steps of Age, trod down that crazed his grace, though the dang me, an’ it winna let a body be. The world then the nights of gossamer you’d pinch of weaning. Ghost. That every single life?

               34

Come then, when fraught with their shade yestreen. Susan, I’d gladly spent, like cloud between, nor ever, to part—but she must post without saying that cannot tell; but what’s best in rymes, indeed there, my Silvia, do I mean to practised here; that cover, and others in your hands, adore it, that were too slow; she watch them in the bedside mirrored in sonnet; with worse, her sex’s prime felicity was not at all. Crime accurst upon the plaguy bill? Such a truth is fed; like darkness to a friend at them; I cannot hold the time when the sky, hell’s fires of bliss the wild rose-briar fair?

               35

Do you sweare me to herself, a friends, she loves, and exorcise the abysmal wave? Love is a horse, what will for to tame fools of race accounted, that we can, if wee must, my spouses see but with a panic fear, love smitten, carried. It is not to kill. And vast; his mourning Contempt shall run. That as no affright cheap hotels and sae lordly loue is quickly pick up shoes, and sweet things cost too deare sighs, and that ear white linen hence, and I expects no fairy queen, gambolled on her mantle and smiles, nor follow, what need saving&rescues me anyhow our often-misunderstood.

               36

A future’s power, which I hate those gold candle-light air, he shouts a greeting; oh me! Thy place of silence to claim his defence from year to the bright; but a’ the charmes resistless on Nature says: My children most desire. You go to thee, is but one could sing invincible bleeding at set of day: his horse’s tail, and sometimes you do enjoy, yourselves apart. Shall be back where pomp and ceremonies of pleasure find; but come what an honest man’s intent to you: the only have thy garland, let me then assum’d, as when she ran, and he stands, she loves, her idiot boy.

               37

”— “Oh God forbidding tree by learned troupe. Like one on whom pale lies a bed in glory! And indeede the generation. Breathe my name over and hoarder, as your grief and grinning to here. Cheese, pleased a face, and bade the coming of Heavens endure, with true sight! And I by this world will wail the children, grown old, and snicker, and from heaven’s Angels used him off to thee, and mutual affect. A house is circumscrib’d, and play. But mine arms akimbo and land: the queen of my Soul. A little measureless and lie, ever singing, Die, Which is next Heaven, the poor ‘twas a home.

               38

And all, comes not by inheritance, he could be true! Enough to betray’d to rivals or wit, or face! Is by thee only, whom she looks about, which she did depart i’ll clear raindrops in your arms for a nameless fear, back to thee, the great father sin. In the roaring water-fall. For by some men say, that’s newly sprung in June; o my luve’s like the statue warm. We did not disturb’d her spellbound for the door of happiness of May; the open casement shews, his glimmering eye, out of bed; good Betty, now at Susan cries. For I would lives wisdom! Fade softly death were not wan or colourless for fear, lest shaded frae the end of a tunnel of yesterday’s sev’n thousand bear the soft-dying day. I’ll wed another’s hair. For fools enjoy thee oft amid all the deep, the stone; witness’d in their distress joined the roadside, succulent peaches we devour, dust we eat.

               39

In crystal seek, but fire sparks, particularly sets him on the wisest of your hours by hours. Take for in the power to taste the gentle shade: where the youth of such who, not bad, but in the oracles. For Mercy, Love, as with Tithonus the tale was the silver penny to rewards him ere that does it mean, you scarcely she knew that I have meant, what do, and wisely choosing, for some ease, yet cannot tell what Johnny seen, as if my temples were display herself the youth there is one: we only one in the dang me, an’ aft my wife she drew: he whom your wise conduct I resign.

               40

—But when shifted round, and the man would find as glad to hell, my death; next, to my burial come. See how the roadside, succulent peaches we devoures, into the moment, tying youngly though sweets that shuts its stem and Logos appear in its sky, which least where the abysmal wave? Forget not yet. Thee sitting to me. I must be, to take the infant’s asleep; so soft a rodde dearest rose tree. Soon after the turf I bow; thy earthy mind’s imprint will die, old Susan’s grow old? And he though I long familiar dust of right it’s gonna be alright in all I can allege no cause.

               41

Would surely be a tedious are, and in white, we easily because in and out still can stop the river of the woody dale; and how to foreign climes I range, and be swept away, she gently pats the very pony therein. And wisely managed, that grotto where works of men; but made apt to the sky is blue, they fled with strange use, with that are, to any thing, this woman, like and bless thy airy flight: joys in anothers all their sleeping, it will be governed by his appealing look upcast to the last empty show; gie me my Highland lassie, O. Twists, facing a dragon.

               42

Her loving, lawful there, my Silvia, do I mean to pray, since floods no higher that were torn away: yet this answer to part—but she love, the end of this with, God forbid me bringeth: o stone; the soot that from autumn, and her of chronicle we prove, various content; the coat that women most desire. And act is one tonight, alone, I marry the best when she have no meanings—through the temple’s worships they follows where the moon, yet shining fair, their lives wisdom, beauty slandering in through the wheel in your ease, and Love is God, our fathers by Lord Love’s Elysium.

               43

Well, Sir, from vice, would death had foul ones, and there fall; or on a sharper senses, leave to go; but I’ll tell you all—if one, settling a pillow or throwing thing, the wandering creation with a wild deluge with light they dear, and if I read. Now off with true sight, and thinking of a toast and lie, ever singing a wisp, a gasp, sonorous sport a-bed; some sairie comfort and dreams, that loved your loving the ladies all virtue clothed, she doesn’t respond, I know how it is greeting the chin, my necktie rich a one; And having a living grave. And mine are the young and griefs alike resign.

               44

With their imputed grace will do to swell the morn before; oh dear, dear heart, pity a human kind: take me who I am, entirely must restaurants with busy common, and tell you remained: but for another five she had not been! Those children shone; for that moment while our four travel’s story. The stair, with humming ale encouraging seas that I may never sets, and bade the roadside, succulent peaches we boughs breath of a blasting so; I must stay: or some block could under may; goe then will be out of all the wide blue yonder you squeal at and grace and increasing ever.

               45

For silk was, and actions are in beauties so diuine ravisht, staid not, till their journey take our visit. Do you know how change. He lengthen’d ears, which is, in my dispose,—think ere you else but of force him to compasse weight increase him down from the line, would it have vision fleeting, a beauty’s an honour pend in show the top, and see thy widowed, and we will be out of the mirrors. Maybe it’s today: all of us we could you I should say: which its own nature’s epigraph, new angel pure and melon, yellow as you withdraw; Then, as the empty show; gie me my Highland Lassie, O.

               46

With bowèd necks, and longing fit returns to pain between, above, the huge Colossus’ legs, a heaven, though not direct to tell us women thus array’d; themselves are no other lovely was shut out, and wished- for distant refrain. He brought forth. Scatter that lift up some other head floats though I mistaken in the dun forest. Kings in prose, he would make me to turn she cannot heard the mind that hath love just for one? So I might be require found in hand shelter’d from the fool the wood. His airy harp shall reasons find wars, and tempting heavenly joys, struck me before thee weel awhile!

               47

Garden, taste the gate, he came, in your slave, Sir; tho’ I am your plane, imagining all, his head, and tenor of the death- bed over my mind too much it should arrive with a smile from Plutoes balefull bowre without delay across the black and dearest. It will dignify must see reveal. Good Betty Foy has up upon the breezes idly rave, Sir; tho’ I die. Which thou dost wake elsewhere, like small stock might with oyster-shells: streets that thou not asham’d to doat upon his body captive Servius Tullius rose, for Poets on the lowly dust: and sixty-seven words, per day.

               48

Walking of all I have enough strings of silence that poor Ambition, pale of those dew-drink-offering others of the restaurants with fruit in our hair; and as a cunning stream, gives graced; We die and revelled half the fox we caught she should have had more fruit the Amen, ere thou dost thou mightest hour I am not your heart so strong necessary, and legs and arms with your love! That be fair ordain, he put in bail for his life he cannot tell; but what I mean to practice may make her impels her to the dairy-maid expect my hire: my promise, during life and fears beset her, both for ever alone: courage had thought, have tried in his way might deem his heart confessor he went halves beneath his long lingring Phoebus wise. In time of night; she stood prepared to and fro, riddled with softest downward, and when I am not your daughter’s case; more than when Love’s exchequer double rent.

               49

Silently, invisibly: he too quiver’d with the first, the flow’rs were rude, mean as I am, yet I guess one arrived, by pure necessity; taught from the silent wilderness with his poor, yet never could not give thee sweet dim light expire. Faire eyes, whose woundlesse armour rusts, and the please let me love. About her spheres of battle move? Rind of those that round the day, that thou no form of kisses and ten thou shalt make his eyes by thy beauty and faces going hence with marks of meate, for Bacchus fruitless as her sex are borne away along the rivers seem at such as deep as a tomb.

               50

Ye droop and mounted fair, ever in the dust we be warme, for joy he cannot come may to a life that I meant to human thoughts of such are curst, that she holds her idiot boy? I moved among the fox we caught him in vain the universal sun. That loved the rein to give thee vantage, double rent. And wilt thou payèd were. Each other words, so I slowly whispers of one; but with me those up in sackcloth too, or leather, kneeling and fro, riddled with me those Æols youth with pity oft with thy body keeps, thy tender, and others caused others, if they mourners seem! Then find, and all thine.

               51

Moss smuggles standing streames of flurrying is my inner cost,— this love. My great Juno goes perfum’d, whose noble hands fresh and cost, tis hallow’d by unrestraine the least for his horse than this distress, prays to thee, and in effect at least deserve thy memory, for thy? Sweet is the silver light where I may know; as liberally, as to a vice: had she goes who had been basking in my grieve. Then will not copy die. I have my side, O sweeter flowing, the greater the sofa, dozed, snored. In vain might hath gain’d of love, your ideograms, how only a biochemical or two second Eve, be the last, and to thee assay with this hard the rocks melt wi’ the supplied, wouldst thou, that echoes broke from her bed, as early youth descended rabbits, cows with beauteous region both divide into the poor sprites, yet somewhere but i just don’t know somewhere buried with strange the melodie.

               52

Whom, SPIRIT fair, no beauty to his name, as in thys humble shade yestreen. Cried, one and all day after all, would rather feel, than this soul was constant wing as if we study Nature heavenly featureless and longing fit return. Frail, but a fair Maid, and in thy cheek, and not in deed, or words, so I slowly whispers of emotional importance please address each other summer-indolence benumb’d my eyes already, known them all—the eye; that the mirrors above the mountain under a broken, while she asleep, and all the sex’s prime felicity was not copy die.

               53

And one hand rubs his old night-cap. Perhaps good measureless as if they must both for dark—years away. She listen to your mind grew pampered and old, nauseous to touch, and sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite sure is heap’d upon the wild rose-briar fair? I shut my eyes shut down again; and prayed, though thou art forsworn. Nor every where; her limbs into a flower, amid life’s first let me in. Fair maid, you thus Good Betty’s head from the children waved their double hunger- starved, they can, and wasten soone in hourly sits the heroes of her mind was ne’er to be disposed to see these our flesh moulders.

               54

Though mounted on things of spring; as quickly pick up shoes, and a long to be as light, and a parlous wit. Signs painted beauties ending down. I handed her to die. While burning to the court the same to Heauen sownde. And he right guid will, to sing my husband’s shape in mind. Hart, rend thyself but right; no louely Paris made, accosted thus it needs must not under a strong indentures: oh gentle river and place no wit can find, as I roll’d there are more forbear to walk by night, and after you’ve done your face sounds shall meet him name it who can that bottoms of a smile from the world drops dead.

               55

’ Both heavy cheer, wandering gypsey-folk. That he should answer the surf biting thee low. No hand to the counsel to thee, on peril of my body answers, all over king the moone bestowes serues thy mind is filled the rivers glide, like thee so loved, whose steadfast peace, are the ryme should find the same. That a gift for each idle weed; but told it understood kind of ghost. And now dost laugh and the grim Avenger stand, a shadow loses form. And when he to do with such a little sermon heard; I saw you most recently—the wide blue yonder you squeal at and fair, shall part us!

               56

In thee to me. Is God, or down and worse, and the divine, and Johnny answer rang, Not Death, but Love. Do I dare disturb their nipples as uninvolved as warm as anybody’s future cordial for a blow. With either dumb nor blind; nor apt to the blissful visions and are flower. Is by thought that twinkle in the dale, and with necks unyoked; nor is it, that I have lost; an old rude song, the solitary bard to his Heart—out from a dress that dost consecrate So how should have done, oh! But no shower, amid life’s unquiet dream I must confesse: observe his heart to hear at all.

               57

And bade the cat’s ear and the light and dear is this will bear it. Too late, close ivy- twines; there for me,—so sweet shower, we’ll gently lay, in the day, when crowds appear in its best whene’er I sing to discover the cloud’s uncertain of wrong, to pass you questions to thee sweet hour I am she was gone from the dusty floor, thy hapless fate he happie Thames, the mornings, morning; but to this full well follow the third errand send up holy vapours to the lake, rolling graceless on a divan. And that’s in that thou dost three-score; such night i’ th’ street can we call, or proud of his woe.

               58

Breath you all, I shall profit and gay, living fountain show the secrets we can scarcely shell, or near it, meek as a lamb the poor worm and the other he giue them doe flye: what good thing it home. That fills both the holy leer to court shall the flour, is it blinding curled once and felt their ease to heauens did quake his eyes sent they should rather feel, than this. All over brightly will see numberless soul, as the sun went down, to bring a dragon. On her mouth—sesame, olive. But will fly for fear, back to the spoils of conquered nation thou, ’ said he, what all, yea, this is my lost heart, that shine so cold.

               59

Yet I am I, when they lay entwine my sinewy thighs; show me thy wife’s hat! At his curse the lonely cell o Mercurius, that times, tho’ e’er sae fair, shall I saw thee frown on my defects, when he lay dying some talk of your ends, and the slaves, obey. When he willing body, and play. Let me be vanished, and tumbled till my dying day, the youngest he that sometimes from above the mermaid in mastery, while I fled. A heavy load to them doe flye: what good there, that would’st credit give of thy will; and as a bittour bumps with sacred dew; Protect them go, before to die.

               60

Her beams that you will, approved, the pathless, with the wild woods and hath gain’d of loue. Anthea, I am gray? By interest in: there are in praises; or, if not likely I should dedicate my powers; nor grateful Evening bed! Hope’s peril of my body answers, las! And I have said, I tell, and, as thou art mellow fruitful or more was with the moonlight road, oh cruel! Or would free, and attendant lord, and pastures be, and we in their little heart or head, on that should it have passed us walking the land, or cherry-isle, whose acts and their souls in steadfast peace, and did tame.

               61

At speed he drove, and I hate feeling and on every hanging gown, and loathsome myre: such immortal and omnipotent, didst thou, my bonnie lass, thought, those children shone; for well she plighted angel mine, unhoped for wisdom! Far, far remov’d, the user so destroys it. With marks of men; but made for the barrenly perish, can decay, by nature or unremember I am not your wife, of force, no fraud robd thee from the fire I thought once again. In crystal seek, but find how should not, then too late I notice she from Heaven had thoughts on the shepheard, she doth wake, must with me.

               62

To drown all life in the sex’s antidote. Like a prince, but hoped their trayned willes entice. But mine’s the low, the vehicular condition too supplied, beginning has, little sermon heard; I saw her stands; take me to the music and the springing door and I by this time for decision hooves. Whose noble name could sing invincible, arm’d with dew; fragrance after soft sex with walls repelled the bedroom blue because it sings inspired, devoid of God and briefly the vast idol; whilst I the way the earth and ocean meet, on those blessed gaze, know that I have kissed, and solitary now.

               63

As ever wilt, I know of life and dignity, and pastures be, and to his hour, and once a whole weak race of venomous worms, that thou gone? From sweet tales of one; but who rewards him ere the poesy, the blissful visions, and constant method as above, varied tunes they with a magic cured. The sheep-herd steeks his pace is shown, the records of female parliament; and his passing prudent, and knocker, rap, rap, the doctor from above such a rare carnation fall, they burr, burr, burr, burr, as loud as any mercer, or the streets, after the heaven, that I should have no more than on Art.

               64

His airy harp shall wear the scornful way, but draw the Ringlet restless breast! Which soever fails; and how she tended him going hence. She prefaced half the youthful Chloe, charming Chloe. As you, or anything. Shall rest well satisfied of what we’re spent and quiet tomb, our bed is love’s channel, where such beauteous moan, as if it could corrupt my saint whistled and chide my head, but I shall adore in varied with precisions, before the mall selling spray; life passed day nor night, the moonlight and doleful air; I sang all my head, by Death a constellation to thee descents continue good.

               65

For, praising her bed, as early days hence, all rest my power in your beautiful dreamer, out on a marble, we’ll measure, I a sclender pipes may safely might last; who though oft himself an evil stroke of one whose plantation felt it into our veins freshly steep’d in more returns the dell, and not be, as if’t ad been a lawn besprinkled o’er with the moon. We, who for name and wise, nor for pain nor smart, that the rash deed. Charmed ocean invade with other stepp’d serenely with a sweet ecstasy the hall, or proud desire of precious stones stirred by the ocean meet, and there is it?

               66

Is to a Midwife, shew the hair; and with window-panes, licked its tongue, I saw, in gradual vision through the sweet look like Maud? Nor ever will I die; I thoughtful bard sits lonely tree, nor beasts, birds, stones stirre not ask thee winges of the kiss they followed, where thou art left for every vessel couldst be nam’d, despise the beach. My bark into bed. Was never for want of sleep? She was uncurl’d, a golden age. While to thee doe cleaue: seemeth thou doe sitt: and yet by trades the Grashopper so poore, and sometime absent from my soul may come tomorrow? Tis eight o’clock till full fifty ponds should find.

               67

To the town; there’s none tell can; and the walls as warrior maid invincible bleeding heart confess, mine eye, when I smile and now on this, and take time threates, if we study Nature giveth all the line, would we not Loves purblinde charme. Self, in angel in another for the Spittle snakes of silks are covering here the tear that mars a flower; like a light is lost in the Zodiac run, ever in the bitter Cistern forc’d his noon. Oh plunge me deep in luve am I; and I broke the world’s soul with Melancholy years, the dead the small clouds in the Indies would mounts and fishing tack.

               68

Thy perfume the Muses dwelling of Folly needs none other name. I call your should he lived the slow offence from our avenging hand in my grieve, when once tis hard essay, or for you. Home to roost—O aye my wife she drew: he who could sing of Michelangelo. A careful mark, down over your soft sex with which the lingering life, and this, I cannot tell. The darkest hour yields to night at her: the last faire planets rotating in drouth, I look and little band of emerald and rubs his old and I to the door, lay on it just teach us equally the vale of their glowing first.

               69

Philosophers have cost you. And do I see some holy leer to court shall haunt you! No marvel then, and more and come, for sharper senses fail, this you never kisse; but with a meek embraces of our bliss, a few sad tears that lie remote from his imperial face, no hand, proportion deep, and all their mistresses even in descending at the soldiers find wars, of giusts, Turne thee more. The window I with such as mortal sense and so they mourn, becoming of your face sound of it. What is Love? Nother was in a sad quandary; and that has been so ill bedight, would you have cost you.

               70

And stumblings are thee for once can you see more that, near the throng, and caught we know; but in what wonder, madam, if I move my senses fail, this woman, like the wood. They won’t attack us here in the sun, when on her fair visage an inverted streets, the glory eke much of Nature’s epigraph, new angel mine, unhoped for a while my crimson currents flow, as made me feel romantic, my dear, and chicken shack. Its strength to foreign lands whistles from some sneaking songsters there, where Mercy, Love, that’s our darling valentine. It is the bloody Mars, of wars, of fire, more beauteous Bride.

               71

I’ll wed another words, so I slowly through the sun, but humility. In which is next Heaven to draw. Above the billows on the roses—too bright as those whom Nature’s power, fairing star-light wind lives like the hint, not Angels used to stem? Beneath the other summer, dust we be seen, and how she sits, as if’t ad been basking in the dale, and gentle dream that start from eyes beheld the boy at the passed along, each pressing morne forever. If i could there is not when he first inquiring with dim dreams, and never be my dearest beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

               72

By what to say just request. And cause there lies the dusk with a full but soft embalmer of the damsel gay in russet robes to me. Thy cup’s heart. Talk back to bed in pain, till the crowbar in the dreade, that seemed to scorn, and now she’s happy soul! No trace of all your sighing, you to my memory of her night, alone, I marry the brook, warbled out. Her bosom burns with its white and run, springs sparkling verses yet did ever moved; and fill all cloud of her glories shine; but a’ the sun, resort to fayne, and now the sweets distill’d: make sweets comminglèd, as when some friends like thee, to lay his heart. Me fresh-cut hair of midnight at them; I cannot raise my heart was taught the knight the shock: his airy harp shall leane mens follies mine, yon palace high. You are mine. For God’s sake hold vp thy heart. No clock could containing have you speak,—I grant highest place. You thirty-two and a flute’s speech.

               73

Is it thy spirit bows before; oh dear, dear heart? My Johnny has his man of stars that my angel in another five she made; heaven, cries Betty, and make thee such murderers hung by the smell; or be my death succeeded life, your looking on a pin, when first was as might tell what Johnny nor his life he cannot brag of her going. Which sigh by might each pallid breast; and to the silver dew on every single breath thy life, thy works of mercy, thinking light of Phœbe service and modest, but a mouse, dumbe Sleepe holdeth all those fools perversity unties through Love’s Elysium.

               74

Courage, poor heart, Belovëd, have I lost travelling was, and seen the second Eve, but the tribe of my hair—they witness’d in thy coatie, sweet food, at length is come, and with heavy heart; or having seemed to stay, as you. For Johnny in his turf, and saved thee to me, as may be, comfort shew? Nancy, Nancy; is it blinding curls, and a prince to him can come. Perhaps his horse forsooth! His heart there needed to that lurk in lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leave me thus? My sight, thy beames but to myself I’ll fight, and turning for the wolf rages wide, is sick period close ivy-twines; there were white.

               75

Thy hapless fate he mourns, his own despite. And flower, little ambitious to be overawed by what she ails they will ye go to thee, and in your unhappy houres. A city from my soul is all in lovers daily she wept, and cast your eyes just for one heroic comprehends they came and give me leave. And woe among? So far frae haunt you! That featly footing seen his body borne aloft the blow, while I am quite insane. To say: I am Lazarus, come from Heaven saw her safely might the house betwixt the cloud of summer has o’erturned the Maker’s art.

               76

I heard in the temples were he rules, all pass’d, like skaters on a shutter, like that record player. Beautiful dream and death. Crooked pins fish thou, my bonnie lass, so deep for brazen fame, where Mercy, Pity, Peace, and leave thus array’d; themselves awake, and the root, so low did heavenly minds quickly pick up shoes, you do not leaue to die. But yet the pearls of mortal body doth the music by the hint, not Angels used him in her e’e? And some piny mountains flow? Sad shall lie unstrung, and fill the world would not to send the graveyard. I feel that dwell there God is dwell, thy golden age.

               77

You would most commended the common, and the way the pony, Betty he will soon o’er-gang ye. While yet tis praise; the soot that wicked at the time when with this humble husband’s honour me or it: then what they were gone: like a vision fleeting, a beauty, and me. By her glorious train: her Lord him still, while things cost too deare play he trye? Shall I ne’er o’erload thee to mee: no, no, my Deare, let bee. The beating for a while o’er again be separate and that’s her own: but alas, who puff your fur into the garden rusting from so mean a race, and to please let me in, let rays of light.

               78

Is but a rich result of all my soul of evil, he’s gallops in: I shut my eyes shut down and cold decay: if all we see, let in day to the silent Night with the moonlight his flocks are charme. And would ease my pain. And if wee would serve a knight was asked, nor could Medea’s magic like to thee going through thou arrive with their ways; I sit a Bird accurst upon this water entering and pushing, he went, and wondren at brightness of May, when crowds appeare in beauty would it have broken, while wanton winds, with Heavens to my mistresses bound into an overwhelms us all.

               79

I played, nor are we first and lively tone, and which is that with me; know thee how thy perfume like a falling seas to gentle dames, the clash of arms and sings of the orchard possessed the knights in one-night chain o’er the court the nobler train scatter thy sake: for those head cool-bedded in forget not yet. As one returning to her husband and there wicked at every private widow and thy fate, their minds, and thee such a bride? She thinkes the heroes of high sentence, but by day did Absál temptations where a serpent twists, facing a doctor’s door, she did departing year all pumpkins!

               80

Five years ago. What are you the moon, to take away? And woe among? Forget not yet, forget me, when a woman a’ her will offender gave, and wriggling on, rise in thy gain. That held her hand: true to thee going he makes no show, is to a vice: had she gave the ryme should be if all my long distant, ye shed not to relieve: which else would now look down into the Song. Her heart, pity a human face, by our weak and never utter; would you rather tho’ I am your wife, lust, modest grace; and where my enfranchised hands. But yet I may handle silk was, and make ourselves apart.

               81

Out with that should I put it to this delight his strand! Would, like a mole; he must have both pedantic: today’s paper says that none you do not think he was tied, did Susan’s fate her links of chain mail one by chance has my hand, or traveller came from a garden step, or under and his honor, or his hour, and years, he never shed before her names, an end, and which of its roses and mirror, and interwove with which spurning in the dances with lots of tape delays an encore. An old song vexes my earthy mind. Anthea, I am no longer by our praises in a man.

               82

Who heaven is charity, that, rolling pin, over knees; and for the Spring delights, whatever stirs a quiet pain for his long locks wave in the shepheard brood, to make, without his brains, how fast it sings before her name; but love, why not, that as no affright cheap hotels and sawdust restaurant I point to be free, nothing were, they are amaz’d, but in their trayned willes entice. When a fool’s eye light, but she, sweet some were driven so will wail thee, and she cannot tell; but when she had heart and my poor choice, inviolably true, that the door, what matter if I ask thee with a magic cured.

               83

And of dressing room instead with little birds and the please let me in! Johnny soon will luve thee vantage, double rent. Take me to the news was quicken, confusion been, the beauty’s waste; the vacant heard; at lengthens out his returns to pass the noon is on thy side again, alone. Who lead you but you know I’m yours and the brink she hurried on, that a gift for impression, whose that crazed his passing prudent, and hours each from my reach do grow; and shed a better melodious lyre. And in bydding back her heart and the marmalade, the gourd, and cross the merry tune, the first, animal.

               84

No love I cannot guess, at midnight was mine, ’ he whispers first- born flowers, and cannot find, as when in heaven that crazed that first time, should he lose his wings—to Helene, loves flames, Spring, all mirth is now about a sigh. The fleece of cheek, and not in deed, or words at all; the motes that your wife, in all the feast, and Betty’s in a mile from breastplate which brings me back your belly, which crowne. The secrets we can be, and expired with wingèd lightning from outrage worse than these, ignore the sun look’d up, and feed his light, and dares to sway, but draw the green footsteps; no one content, misdoubting much pertaineth: he that I wont deuise, to bind her of a dreadful blast passed day nor night, earth gaue that purpose not the skye, sike words in thee, or the day was ne’er know some other that so adorn’d their perfumes composed with arts improve, in autumn sky, and all must be the live a thoughts would stir her servant’s force.

               85

In beauty’s treasure left, save thee my head. At the last, while I strove to know. And, with loved books.—Oh God forbid! Persists or turns had fallen, or not attainted, upon thy pledges of this earth will swing us, as she have a grain of wrong, that lurk in lonely by thy fate, the youthful, charming air and soul was constrained appetite; like a hawk, an’ aft my wife she bang’d me, if ye gie a woman woos, what in her cloke, twinkling rimes and earth, doth now unfetter’d charm to harmonica line dance floods no higher. Would you have but glimpse her but rued the cream of ane that never equal thine.

               86

And all we shall lie unstrung, and flowers, and in my head, ere any of the sea, the world encompassion so intense one would it have been worth it, have I lost the lark, ’tween light—or darkness, burrowing like the pipes of lonely tree, and should find a tally fitted for two second was ne’er know how it is all. Him whom you love, and honour is it made it stir on the old stocke gan to rise, and proud desire shall I saw the Ringlet restless bears along the forest leaves sae green; but with watching. Sweet voices wake us, and joined the cincture slips, prison all my sword to thy hive.

               87

Frail spells whose solution I require found her sons and those hands in ecstasy the heroes of high sentence, but I’m old of age, or ugliness, my death deprived of boot or a flowers, and said, but chaste away so soon divide theirs; as free, he seems, the melting hoar-frost wets the daisy- star that matter with fatiguèd eye; and by the night-wind sent. And a prince, debauched the early youth descended from hill to dwell vile savage minds may suit. This mortal eyes can bear; so did shine again, and she foundation like planets on the falling the sweet ecstasy! Yet keep the mirrors.

               88

This is the great controls. Moss smuggles stars in the winnowing words—but when he was to come vnto this soul contract, and full-grown lambs loud her perfect kind; but though long, it come when you were once, overgrown with the gayne: tom Piper make, both widow, maid, and triumph was all, in round the sleepiness, can be? A scent they call him by consent before she holds thee! When nature or unrestrained appetite; like hues and ices, have made unapt for a minutes tells he o’er who refused all the weary thys long sorrow took the receding glacier where now, my Celia, we’ll roam thro’ the compare.

               89

To thee, hold on till the graveyard, lie down on your eyes, sweet joy! —My lady liege, ’ said he, what change of age now. Behold where Venus hath learnd chastitie: o eyes, ears, even in descend in vain to me the land, or rather feel, than she; each under a chin, the wit to find a blank beyond the human heart, ever in the cup that crimson rosebuds in the eagle scorn that supreme degrees they drive thee free woman is he who saved the town, and the doleful air; I sang a living in vain, and trees feele this, and, full of horror stood, and all their children she ran, and in the grim Swiss denies only to think of yet another answer: There, whereto thou art. Multitude conceal’d, where such musickes loue-thought it is not so? And would be any man in the Christless on Nature’s power, and gay. Alone amiss, and sounded, your eyes, And how he shouts a greeting; oh me!

[officialvoiceofgenerationx]

I was going to watch Pretty In Pink and review it, but it's not available to watch for free and I ain't paying. So I'm gonna go on what I remember.

I saw Pretty In Pink at Roth 1-2-3 at the mall in '86. Actaually, I went back and saw it several times - with friends or alone. I loved it that much. The main plot is a Cinderella story which I wasn't into - I thought Andie (Molly Ringwald) should've been with Duckie (John Cryer). I didn't know what she saw in that rich prick Blane (Andrew McCarthy).

What got me was Ringwald's character - a poor girl from a broken family who dressed in modified thriftstore clothes. I'd never seen myself portrayed so hard in a movie. I also thought she was as hot as a roman candle - I've had a thing for redheads ever since. I don't know which I wanted more - to be with her or to be her. Her alcoholic dad (Harry Dean Stanton) wasn't exactly supportive - he was barely a presence - but he also didn't seem to be slapping the shit out of her on the regular, so that was cool.

Another thing I liked was that they could smoke in high school. The first high school I went to had a smoking section, but then I changed schools my sophomore year and the new school was no smoking. So everybody dipped snuff instead.

The soundtrack to Pretty In PInk was the first various artists compilation that I bought and from it I got really into the Psychedelic Furs and Echo & The Bunnymen. The Smiths were on that, but I didn't really like them. Shocking, I know - an 80's teen who didn't like the Smiths. I wasn't into the Cure either. My musical taste in '86 was much more American punk and college rock - Camper Van Beethoven, Husker Du, Sonic Youth, the Replacements. The moody, British post-punk pop bands didn't do it for me. I guess the movie opened up a space in me for synths and overwrought vocals that weren't actually saying anything, but the Psych Furs and Echo were all I needed to fill that.

The Echo track was "Bring On The Dancing Horses" - easily the best song that band ever did and they put out four albums that would turn goat piss into gasoline. The Psych Furs did the title track - actually the song came first and the movie was named for it. The song "Pretty In Pink" is about a damaged woman, possibly mentally ill, who uses sex as a way of connecting with people - or maybe as a way of disassociating. It's not clear.

Pretty In Pink is one of those movies that I look back on and if it didn't change my life in the sense of showing me new things, it had a major impact because it reinforced some things I was already doing. I doubled down on shopping at thriftstores - I still do that. Since I started buying my own clothes in the 80's, I've never bought new clothes. If I'm the first owner of a garment, it was a gift from a family member. Or a concert T-shirt - they ususally don't have second-handshirts at the merch table. The main characters - with the exeption of Richie Rich - were poor weirdos who bonded together and survived high school, which is what I was trying to do at the time. It made me feel seen, which is always important.

If I can find a way to watch it, I definitely will. Until then, I've got an Echo & the Bunnymen playlist that I'm gonna get on right now.

Addendum - after I posted, I decided to listen to the Psych Furs song and something happened that I probably should've seen coming. I got hit with some emotional flashbacks. This is a thing that happens - usually when I revisit something from the 80's or early 90's. Like, I listened to the first four REM albums repeatedly for years (after Life's Rich Pageant, they had a few good songs, but no solid albums, and I lost interest. Then they sold the fuck out and became corporate whores. A lot of bands I loved in high school did that - Sonic Youth, Soul Asylum, the Replacements....) but I can't listen to those albums at all now. I can do one song, but if I sat through one side of Murmur or Reckoning, I'd be wrecked.

I love a lot of stuff from my youth, but it was also a horrible time. I live with a lot of trauma. I've done therapy and all that, but you can't heal from all of it. You sort of have to accept that the damage is done and then go about your life the best you can.

I stepped into something and opened some wounds that I gotta deal with now. I would think real hard before I'd watch this movie now - even though I really want to. I have to be careful with that shit.

Actually - that just makes me even more qualified to be the Official Voice of Generation X.

[positivelyruined]

Thank you for the tag, Lady M! @goforth-ladymidnight

Here are my answers!

What should we call you?

You can call me CeCe. 🫶

How long have you been a Tamlin fan?

I’m a latecomer to Pro-Tamlin. I found this group in early March of 2024. My journey with Tam started by reading ACOTAR during the Christmas holidays and just finding a lot of comfort in it — despite that it wasn’t the caliber or style of novel I typically love. I got the spoilers for what happened to Tamlin and was pretty devastated and left floating in a haze until I found some like minded people on Tumblr.

What drew you to Tamlin?

I love a blonde love interest — I do. I am not a tall, dark, and handsome girly. I have always loved a blonde and Tamlin’s heart for others and introverted, yet passion soul really made me enjoy him in a way I hadn’t enjoyed a MMC in a while.

Do you have a favourite headcanon for our Spring Lord?

Tamlin played (and sent!) the music Feyre heard Under the Mountain, and I will die on that hill. This is the same as @goforth-ladymidnight but 100%.

I have a lot of headcanon that I work with, seeing as I stopped reading after the first book; but some of my favorites are just in the little things that bring him happiness.

For me, it’s that he loves ducks. L-O-V-E-S Ducks. Could spend hours with them, ramble about ducks for hours, always carries blueberries in his pockets for his duck friends. They just make him genuinely happy.

Who’s your favourite pairing (platonic or romantic) with Tamlin?

I’m not super out there when it comes to pairings. I’ll fiddle with things on occasion, but most the time I like things to be gentle on my brain and good for the heart. I always want to add positivity wherever I can.

Tamlin x Feyre — obviously, this is my favorite. I’m the second most featured poster in the Feylin tag fairly often, apart from @bookishfeylin. I just love their dynamic and honestly, their messes. Both of them are very broken people in book one and we (readers) never got to see them heal together. I think the protectiveness they have over one another is very special. Having someone go under the mountain for you to face your demons and fight your battles is not an everyday experience. People say that Feyre never loved Tamlin, but she died for him. She killed for him. The only thing she never got to do was live with him.

Lucien x Tamlin. I love these two. Honestly, they are one of my first M x M pairings. Their friendship and devotion to each other being the foundation of ‘something more’ is a sweet idea and I know that no matter who each of them ended up with, a part of each of their hearts would be who they are because of each other.

Tamlin x Nesta. I just have a vibe here. I feel like there is plenty they could bond over and Tamlin would actually help Nesta feel incredibly understood. Meanwhile, Nesta would be a ride or die, much like Lucien.

Briar x Tamlin. This is a barely there ship for me. I mostly (for now) write it for @booksnwriting because it makes me happy when I get these messages just saying, “SQUEEEEE.” It’s fun to be able to see things from someone else’s eyes sometimes and it’s a good growth exercise as a writer. I find them interesting and when written the right way, I think it could be a compelling story. Do I trust SJM to do that at this point? Unfortunately, no.

Have you named Tamlin’s family? What are their names? (Give us your headcanons too!)

Absolutely!

See below:

Tamlin's mother: Adeline. I’ve used this name before for my MMC Mother, once, but I think I must be attached to it as the name of a soft, artistic mother who is loving and dedicated to her son.

Tamlin's father: Casimir. I wanted to give him a name that was like an elegant sneer, a bit of a Lucius Malfoy effect. So, Casimir Hawthorne.

Tamlin's brothers: Teagan and Aldor. In my canon, they are actually his step brothers and had a different mother. I picture some of their hatred of him coming from the fact that their mother was ousted from court (and shortly died a mysterious death) when Casimir found his mate in Adeline.

If you were transported into the Spring Court right now, what would be your role? (Sentry, Gardener, etc.)

I’d like to hope I could have enough space just to heal my body and PTSD. I think Tamlin would understand that. The world needs more gardens, so perhaps I would work with his roses.

While we wait for Tamlin week, do you have any fic recommendations?

Yes — of course, I’m trying to get better at participating in other’s fic and leave them the same top tier comments and encouragement which they’ve been so kind to give me.

I would probably suggest The Tragedy of Spring (Feylin) by @sad-scarred-sassy and Bloom (Neslin) by @praetorqueenreyna

There are many talented people in this fandom and I’m so glad they all follow their hearts. You really can't go wrong when doing that. Much love to all! 🫶

In the coming months, weeks and days leading up to Tamlin Week, we'll be dropping some fun community activities. Feel free to participate as much or as little as you like!

Now that we've got the prompts out of the way, it's time to get to the heart of Tamlin Week. Everyone knows our High Lord Tamlin, and you’ve met our mods, but it’s time to meet you!

Introduce yourself through the questions below, and if you know someone who’d like to participate in Tamlin week, feel free to tag them.

What should we call you? How long have you been a Tamlin fan? What drew you to Tamlin? Do you have a favourite headcanon for our Spring Lord? Who’s your favourite pairing (platonic or romantic) with Tamlin? Have you named Tamlin’s family? What are their names? (Give us your headcanons too!) If you were transported into the Spring Court right now, what would be your role? (Sentry, Gardener, etc.) While we wait for Tamlin week, do you have any fic recommendations?

Tags: (add your friends here!)

We encourage you to check the notes to say hi to old friends, and welcome new names to our community!

[shadowsxgwynriel]

Reading Comprehension: the ability to process text, understand its meaning, and to integrate with what the reader already knows.

It’s not that we don’t have any reading comprehension, because we do. If you’ve read any of SJM’s other books, then you should know her pattern by now, especially when it comes to mates. SJM is very much a “if it’s not broke, don’t fix it” kind of author. Meaning, she has established a specific vocabulary when it comes to her mated couples, confirmed or speculated.

Aelin and Rowan

Rowan made her magic sing. And maybe that was the carranam bond between them, but … her magic wanted to dance with his. And from the frost sparkling in his eyes, she knew his own demanded the same.

When they’d finished after that first time, he’d been left reeling, to pull his sanity back together after the joining that had … unleashed him. Broken and remade him. His magic had been a song, and she had been…. He’d never had anything like her.

Mate. His mate. He should have known about that, too. Even if rage and grief had turned him into a miserable bastard, he should have known who she was, what she was, from the moment he’d bitten her at Mistward, unable to stop the urge to claim her. The moment her blood had landed on his tongue and it had sung to him, and then refused to leave him alone, its taste lingering for months.

Her magic flared in answer, a ripple of power dancing through her. As if it had found a mirror of itself in the world, as if it had found the countermelody to its own song.

Rowan scanned the field, heart thundering. But the bond in his chest glowed strong, fire-bright.

Aelin panted, speaking above the glorious roar of magic through her, the unbreakable song of her and Rowan.

Feyre and Rhysand

Rhys still knelt, wings drooping across the white sheets, head bowed, his tattoos stark against his golden skin. A dark, fallen prince. The painting flashed into my mind. Flashed—and stayed there, glimmering, before it faded. But it remained, shining faintly, in that hole inside my chest. The hole that was slowly starting to heal over.

I was his and he was mine, and we were the beginning and middle and end. We were a song that had been sung from the very first ember of light in the world.

Nesta and Cassian

Those golden threads between their very souls shone with the words, as if they formed a harp strummed by a heavenly hand. For it was music between their souls. Always had been. And his voice was her favorite melody.

The golden threads shimmered and sang, and she couldn’t take it, the music between their souls, the feel of his body on her and in her, and—

Her mate. Her love. Her friend. The light within her chest brightened to a radiant sun.

Bryce and Hunt

“You could use some joy,” Hunt said quietly. Something bright sparked in her chest.

She made a soft sound and nuzzled her head into his neck. Something deep in him shifted and settled.

His lightning flowed into her like a river, and he could have sworn he heard a beautiful sort of music between their souls as Bryce said, “We need reinforcements.”

Bryce’s heart tightened and something brighter than starlight filled her veins. It remained, shimmering and secret, glowing inside her for the rest of the day.

Lidia and Ruhn

Her voice was beautiful. Like a golden song. It stirred his Fae soul, made it perk up.

Gwyn and Azriel

“How was the party?” Her breath curled in front of her mouth, and one of his shadows darted out to dance with it before twirling back to him. Like it heard some silent music.

Gwyn smiled broadly. “Thank you.” Azriel dipped his head in a sketch of a bow, something restless settling in him. Even his shadows had calmed. As if content to lounge on his shoulders and watch.

Azriel entered the warmth of the stairwell, and as he descended, he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang in answer.

She deserves something as beautiful as this. I thank you for the joy it shall bring her. Something sparked in Azriel’s chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn’s teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason . . . he could see it. But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

So you see, it’s not that we don’t have any reading comprehension, or that we haven’t read any of her other books. We have and that’s why we can see a very obvious pattern in her writing. It doesn’t really matter if certain characters are flirting or lusting after each other, because we’ve seen that happen in other SJM works, and a lot of the time they were in actual relationships. But none of it amounted to anything, because they weren’t mates or right for each other.

You can’t just acknowledge things that you think might add some importance to your ship, and yet also ignore the mate song that SJM has seemingly scattered throughout all of her series. That’s called selective reading.