#damn fatal frame story is so good

[log-ladys-log]

Writing Assassins

One of my favourite tropes is the assassin and especially assassins of the Manchurian Candidate variety. I love everything that comes with the human weapon character—the discussions of autonomy and guilt. I love when the characters are broken and remoulded against their will. Good stuff.

Increasingly, I have noticed characters who are assassins only in title. There are multiple reasons this has been happening, but I think one of the problems going on is that the assassin has been pushed through a game of telephone. People know the archetype so they recreate it in their own work without properly researching. I’m not an expert on assassins or assassinations, but I have thoughts and wants as a person who really enjoys the trope.

As with all discussions around writing, not all of these points will apply to every story. An assassin living in the Cold War is going to operate differently than one in the Shogunate era. Different genres also have different expectations and variations on the archetype. A rogue assassin in a medieval fantasy story has less expectations of realism than the femme fatale assassin in a political thriller. However, I find it incredibly sexy when a writer takes a grounded approach with their fantasy—a little nonfiction in my fiction. This is a personal taste. I’ve tried my best to frame my thoughts in a way that can be applied most broadly across genres and settings.

At the most basic level, assassins are people who killed someone of importance.  The vast majority of assassins in history weren’t guns-for-hire. They were fed up people. Professional assassins are largely fiction, which is fine because chances are you’re writing fiction. I do think it would be fun to see more one-off assassin types.

What are you character’s motives? Your character being an orphan is not reason enough for them to be an assassin. It is a huge decision for a character to be willing to throw away the rest of their life in order to kill another person, to trade their life to take another. No one casually decides to become a murderer, especially not a professional one. Murder is deeply intimate. You’ve got to build a relationship/conversation between the assassin, the victim, and in guns-for-hire situations, the client. Now when I say relationship/conversation, I don’t necessarily mean a tangible one more so their should be aspects about their character and being that compare and contrast with each other. In How to Write a Damn Good Mystery, author James N. Frey talks about how your detective and your culprit should be foils to each other. I believe the same should be said for your assassin, victim, client trifecta.

Keep the kill counts within reason. This is what inspired me to make this post. All too often, I will see assassin characters with their kill count in the 100s plus. Instead of showing me that your character is a badass, it shows me that you haven’t thought your character through. Yes, most of the lauded, “most deadly” snipers in history have kill counts in the 100s, but they were also soldiers fighting a war. They didn’t have to worry about legal repercussions for their actions. An assassination takes months if not years of planning. If your character is an undead or immortal assassin, I wouldn’t bother mentioning an exact figure for a kill count. It still has that sort of lazy short-cut to badass feel. In Captain American: the Winter Soldier, Natasha tells Steve that the Winter Soldier is credited with over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years. To state the obvious, two dozen is twenty-four. That number is just credited assassinations, and likely doesn’t include the people caught in the crossfire along the way. The number feels reasonable given the time span.

“Beware of an old man in a profession where men usually die young.” This is an old adage that I quoted in my post about writing violence. Across conflicts, it has been shown that the longer you are on the frontline the less likely you are to die. Survival of the fittest and all that. If you want to show your audience that your professional assassin is good at what they do, make them older.

Head shots are mostly fictional. They rose in popularity after the assassination of JFK, and they’re often used to show that the gunman is really good at their job. However, outside of close range situations, your assassin isn’t going to targeting the head. Yes, a hit to the head is more than likely fatal, but it’s also a small target on the move. Snipers are trained to aim for the t-zone, which is around the clavicle. It’s a larger area that remains fairly steady no matter how the person is moving and if you hit anywhere in the area, it will be a kill shot. (Now, I’m not a professional marksman, so any snipers feel free to correct me on this point.)

Perfect marksmen kill tension. Your character is going to miss a shot now and again. That doesn’t make them weak; it makes them human. It also helps build tension. Your audience should not be able to answer the question “will they make the shot?” right away. Have their jobs go wrong, and if they still manage to complete it, that’s what will make them badass.

Know your weapons. If your assassin uses a gun, you better know the difference between a clip and magazine. I’d recommend picking a very specific gun for your character, and then researching the hell out of it. What’s its history? What were its innovations from the previous model? What type of ammunition does it take? If you can, ask someone you know with guns if they would teach you how to use them. If your character uses poison, learn as much as you can about it. Does a person ingest it, or can it be absorbed through the skin? If it can be absorbed, how long does it last on a surface? How are you guaranteeing the mark gets it? Choice of weapon can show us a lot about a character, but it can also just as easily show us that the writer has no clue what they are talking about. Don’t be the person who thinks a “silencer” makes a gun silent.

Know your world. Anytime you are dealing with criminal or intelligence type elements, you need to research and understand intimately how the world they are living in works. When I say world, I mean both the physical world and the world as your character understands it. Learn the lingo. Learn how real life people operated. What are the political structures? What’s the geography and architecture like? How do the small things like locks work? Remember you’re not just world-building you’re also casing the joint.

A feared or infamous assassin is an oxymoron. This could also be called the James Bond problem. If your character is known as the greatest spy the world, then they’re probably not actually that good of a spy. The same goes for assassins. Now, this can also be worked with, depending on your world-building. Maybe they’re known in certain circles or people know of their work but not their identity. This also ties back into kill counts. At some point, a too high of a kill count will draw eyes, and it will end your assassin’s career.

If you have drugs in the car, drive the speed limit. A character who works outside the law has to be cautious with what laws they break. This is where you can get some interesting internal character tension. Assassin and sniper-types may be thrill-seekers or adrenaline junkies. It would not be out of character for them to enjoy speeding down a highway, but they can’t because of their career choice. Remember, they got Al Capone on tax evasion.

That all leather outfit and greased-back hair totally isn’t suspicious. This is similar to the point above, but the assassin’s job is to go unseen. They’re going to be dressed comfortably and in layers.

There are no hard and fast rules in writing. That’s one of the great things about it. If there’s anything you want me to expand on, let me know. If you have any topics you want to see covered, also let me know. I don’t bite often.

[stinkw333d]

S3E7 morning rewatch stream of thoughts! spoilers, obviously

-So what, would Joel McHale just not play fake gay? not casting him to be Older Paul was such a missed opportunity imo, especially now that we know Ben’s dead! whatever

-Oh she wants to fuck him, fuck him. surprise surprise. i dont think robbie-edwin is gonna last long, dw girl get in there

-This Frog/Zeus story. Cool foreshadowing bro!

-HA frog dorks

-AYO THE SYMBOL JUST DROPPED AGAIN

-YOU WILL GO HOME VAN!! I SWEAR!!

-oh misty not the bone

-I KNEW LOTTIE WOULD GET HIS ASS THE SECOND SHE DISAPPEARED FROM FRAME LAST EPISODE! I SAW IT!! VINDICATION!!

-i’m as excited as shauna is by her doing that, i’m dead serious

-Soapy baby we’re gonna get you that Emmy

-He should’ve just shot melissa’s hat off like William Tell and the apple.

-mari, never ever get less stupid please.

-Hat won’t die right? that was a non fatal hit, just the shoulder.

-oh sure, the one thing that could invoke empathy in terrorist shauna sadecki. be so fr

-POORLY FURNISHED ☝️ jeff you diva never change

-“you’re the love of my life,” i actually have terrible news for you about your wife, Jeffrey

-yes callie, cook!

-Other Tai snoring is awesome

-MYSTERIOUS QUIGLEY??

-oh so everyone knew about the sleepwalking, sick

-SOAPY MY GIRL!!

-Hannah your instincts are garbage fr

-oh they all feel terrible about Hannah immediately What Did They Do To Her

-“your track record’s iffy” get her ass Van

-Other Tai does not want to go with shauna at all lmao, she had OTHER PLANS THIS WEEKEND!!

-why would you ever find out about the shame child of the woman you murdered as teenagers, misty?

OH GOD DAMN IT GO TO HELL FINE

-rip Gen i guess

-“Halfsies on some floss picks?” was that a christina improv what the fuck was that line

-I love Tai’s evil long leather trench coat. to signify that she’s evil now.

-“I will live that way, for you!” LIKE A SERIAL KILLER??

-where did Van get that lesbian pocket knife? the wilderness’ lesbian supplies outlet?

-Froggy :)

-HER MOM MY SHAYLA

-“the village” i thought that was only ok when behind the scenes Liv Hewson said it

-is… is Travis gonna accidentally shoot Akilah? i can’t not be anxious every time she’s on screen

-oh shit she BURIED IT!!

-Did Joel McHale name his own character? what the fuck is Kodiak about? freak ass white boy

-hannah you’re cooked i fear

-Shauna actually isn’t wrong, but she shouldn’t say it in that many words.

-“sorry,” aw van

-Van you’ve always known what kind of sociopath misty is

-*intense Gen X typing noises*

- I’ve always suspected Van had lung/throat cancer :(… unless that’s fake? i hope

-“that is not good,” thank you misty very helpful misty

-SHE DODGED THE CROSSBOW? I KNOW THATS RIGHT, MYSTERIOUS!!

-“my glasses! my glasses!” finally misty’s velma moment

-oh good akilah’s fine. for now.

-Travis what ARE you doing?

-“she’s my wife!” SENATOR TAISSA “Liar”TURNER!! 🫡

-MISTY PLEASE SOME SPACE

-aw they’re actually so sad about van :( me too ladies

-so not fake? :( that was real Van blood?

-Get her ass misty

-yeah this tracks for shauna 100%

-“the devil’s calling!” actually the devil’s a lesbian and she’s sitting fifteen feet away from you, sir

-nono nooo no no no please don’t no please god no pleaE NOT THE VISION

-“really? fire?”

-sorry but no shit van

-“i need her right now” :(

-Van blease do not die.

-oh lottie please stop doing that, girl ew

-yeah whatever mel’s dead, fuck you guys

-mari i love you forever, girlie

-OH FUCJ

-Courtney we’ll get u an Emmy as well queen

-Shauna: Horny, Mel: Pissed. Shauna is too horny to tell.

-if Hannah isn’t pit girl im gonna crash out

-Jeff hates the Jolly Hitcher so bad lmfao

-callie that’s just boring twitter discourse, move on. your mom’s just forever a traumatized 17 year old girl and you have to be fine with that.

-Callie hates her mom so bad she’s just praying at this point that she murdered someone for her own justification

-YES IT’S THE oh well no, almost.

-still no Hillary Swank? I’ll kill you. also i guess we didn’t actually watch Mel die though so i may have overreacted earlier.

-fine. if/when Mel dies Shauna’s crashout will be legendary, what about it?

-i love this fucking show

[tanoraqui]

I love your world building! Your name ideas are awesome. Love the idea of Indis being a true prophetic mother name

-@outofangband

Belated thank you! Also, sharing my thought process on that one because it's a very classic Silmarillion headcanon origin: it bothers me that Indis's name means "bride." I hate how it reduces her to a feminine trope - at "best", only here to have a troubled marriage; if you're a staunch Fëanorian, a femme fatale homewrecker. I immensely dislike how this is, in fact, an fairly accurate description of her role in the story...

Which is deliberate on Tolkien's part! The "canonically correct" way to ameliorate this misogyny (though neither erase nor excuse it) is to remember that this whole text is a mixture of history, legend and myth passed through multiple storytellers over thousands of years, translated and re-translated and interpreted through the eyes of elves and men and hobbits and men again, until even if this person ever actually existed in the history of Middle Earth - IF! - "Indis" probably wasn't even her epessë, much less her commonly used name. Probably her name got ink blotted on it at some point, or mixed up with someone else's name, and the next Númenorean scholar to rewrite the text followed the Archetypal School of historical interpretation and decided to name her "Indis" because of her role in the story...

But this, too, bothers me. Because I love the framing device of these various books, I love the historian-given dubious canonicity of literally every detail of The Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, and especially of The Silmarillion. But! We need some solid canon upon which to hang all our headcanons, so it's imperative to retain a delicate mental balance of knowing everything could be made up (more than it already is by being fiction!) while also adhering to as much as possible as something that Really Did Happen - and names are pretty solidly in the latter category. I mean, everyone has multiple and for those who don't, we tend to make more up, but a belief in the basic premise of the text is necessary in order to function in any fandom, and "names of characters" is pretty "basic premise."

So it's impossible to ignore that her name is Indis; and it's impossible to ignore that the name "Indis" is closely connected to her place in the narrative, more than most characters, and that said place is uncomfortably non-feminist - you can round out her character all you like, but you have to admit that her role in the story is to be the Second Wife and Mother whose acts of being a wife and mother cause trouble! That's a fact! And it's not great! And the name "Indis" isn't helping because if she was named anything but her literal narrative role, that would be characterization! She could be noble like Artanis, she could be of the sea like Eärwen, but she's not! She's just "bride"!

...so, I redeem this by making this definition of her life deliberate within the text - and not just by a future Númenorean scholar, but by Indis's mother. (Female! O! Cs!) Furthermore, names of prophecy are implicitly grand (even if they're not necessarily either good or bad). It makes being a bride itself feel more active - and why not! Do Indis's acts of love and marriage not change the fate of the world just as much as Lúthien's? Consider that Indis's act of marriage is so important that it echoes back through the Great Music to be known by her mother as she held the future bride as a babe in arms. Consider a mother holding her child under stars beside a lake and going, "damn, this kid is gonna have ripple effects. I should add a bragging warning label."

Also, if you accept the headcanons that

a) most Elvish languages treat "sex" (physical) and "marriage" (soul-bonding) as basically synonymous; and

b) Indis spends thousands of years in the Second/Third ages patiently and stubbornly figuring out how to Make It Work between herself, Finwë and Miriel, such that all three of them can marry with genuine all-around mutual love unto the end of days, for peace among the still-troubled Noldor but mostly for happiness for herself and those she loves most (also an act of bride-ship worthy of prophecy, note) -

then you can with a straight face imagine Indis saying, "I fucked my way into this mess and I'm going to fuck my way out of it."

Feminist critique + consideration of canonical historicity + elaborate headcanon web = sex joke! Now that's good fandom!

[gunkreads]

Took me nearly two years of mostly straight-up not reading it, but I did finish Gardens of the Moon the other day. I only have a couple things to say about it, but I want to preface them by saying I've never had an easier time keeping track of characters and plot events in a book. Erickson's clarity and concision is actually staggering to me. So much happens and, even with multiple-month hiatuses, I never had trouble picking up where I left off because it's all so damn memorable.

The world is fascinating. Everything works on funky-ass rules, the magic system feels like a bunch of deeply classic concepts synthesized into a coherent whole, and the history of the world bleeds through every page. You can tell that Erickson is an anthropologist: he's really deeply attached to why anyone is anywhere and he wants you to know, too. He manages not to bog the plot down with those details, though, letting character perspectives filter exposition so you only get a manageable amount at a time.

The story itself is pretty neat and tidy, framed as a collision-course structure that slowly brings multiple groups and interests into one place for the climax. It does have some intrigue and mystery, but most of that lies in the worldbuilding and historical questions of how things came to be. Most characters' motivations are laid pretty bare.

The weakest point of the book is Erickson's prose, for sure. He seems uninterested in style and voice, instead using a very... let's be nice. A very utilitarian diction. I think this book hits a solid fifth grade reading level.

However, that's exactly why I was able to keep track of so much shit the whole time. Erickson's simplistic prose genuinely does scoot itself out of the way to make space for the parts he's interested in. It makes his action suffer, true, but he tends to keep his action scenes pretty short as well, chaining multiple brief and meaningful encounters into a longer climax rather than expanding one single event. The sequence at the beginning with the battle at Pale and the scene near the end where Raest is fighting toward the city are probably the longest protracted battles, and they're only a few pages each.

You Will Like Murillio. Somber and humble noble who can sword good and is a bit of a slut. Masc fatale.

[sincerelyamee]

✨ Villain Sashisu AU because the world needs this - aka what happens when Gojo and Shoko run away with their mass-murderer boyfriend ✨

With a sizable stack of new identities and paperwork secured, the trio decides a celebratory round of drinks out on the balcony is well in order. Shoko and Geto happily pass a bottle of top-shelf vodka back and forth between them, savoring the slow burn as it travels down their throats.

Meanwhile, Gojo gleefully takes up his usual perch beside them, knees pulled up to his chest as he chugs away at an obnoxiously colorful fruity soda. Because for as powerful and seemingly indestructible as the great Gojo Satoru may be, the man has one fatal, crippling flaw:

He cannot have even a single sip of alcohol without immediately passing out in a listless, drooling heap – only to awaken hours later with a horrendous migraine rivaled only by the sheer devastation he inevitably unleashes upon those unfortunate enough to be near him in that fragile state.

Needless to say, nothing positive has ever come from witnessing Gojo attempt the hard stuff. A harsh lesson Geto and Shoko learned far too many times over the years.

Though despite his inability to partake in the debauched vice, Gojo seems perfectly content to alternate between shoveling down fistfuls of salty chips and taking noisy slurps from his radioactive-bright beverage. He never quite understood the allure of cigarettes and liquor anyway – those were always more of Shoko and Geto’s things than his.

What does trouble Gojo, however, is the mere prospect of being separated from his two closest people, even for a short while. In his simple yet stubborn psyche, he, Shoko, and Geto are a singular, unbreakable package deal.

So even if he can’t directly partake in their chosen indulgences, Gojo makes sure to indelibly insert himself into the mix regardless. Be it wedging his wiry frame between them on the couch, casually draping an arm around whichever set of shoulders is nearest, or pelting them both with a relentless stream of nonsensical jokes and conversation just for the sake of hearing his own voice.

He is present, dammit – an undeniable part of their dynamic whether the other two want him there or not… at least until they inevitably attempt to retreat to the sanctity of the restroom. Gojo learned the hard way that certain sacred thresholds simply cannot be breached without invoking the demonic, blinding fury of Shoko’s wrath.

But outside of that incredibly specific scenario, he remains their dedicated third wheel, as inseparable from their sides as his very shadows. The ridiculously boyish slurps and crunches from his collection of treats are only occasionally drowned out by a bark of sharp laughter or exaggerated imitation as Shoko and Geto slip further into warm inebriation over the balcony’s edge.

That is, until one or both of them inevitably tries to push away from the railing with flushed cheeks, undoubtedly intending to stumble off towards their respective bed for the evening… only to find resistance in the form of Gojo staunchly clinging to their arm or pant leg like a petulant toddler.

“Whoa, where d’you two think you’re goin, huh?” he whines around a mouthful of chips, otherworldly eyes comically wide with faux-hurt. “The fun’s just getting started!”

Whether they shove him off with good-natured exasperation or simply concede, allowing Gojo to trail behind them with a sulking slouch, the end result is ultimately the same. Tomorrow morning will inevitably find all three of them tangled in an unholy sprawl upon the largest available sleeping surface, hangovers be damned.

They are a packaged deal, after all – the three greatest villains against the world. And if Gojo has any say in it whatsoever, that’s exactly how they’ll remain until the bitter, punch-drunk end.

Read the whole fic on Ao3: A Family of Villains - A wacky villain origin story/Kinda a slice-of-life fic exploring the logistics of sashisu being the greatest villains in the jujutsu world while being 18, on the run, and raising 4 kids. Mostly fluff and humor of course.

[witchofthesouls]

So, uh, this little memory just suddenly popped up out of no where and I figured it would serve as good(?) ‘world-building’ material.

So, when I was in my private all-girls Catholic high school (that’s how you know it’s going to be a good story) girls would soak their tampons with vodka to get drunk. Some where more successful than others, but some where also less fortunate when their near fatal encounter of alcohol poisoning and nasty-ass vaginal infections where known throughout school.

My question is; do cybertronians have a similar method of madness like the vodka tampons?

And my second question; did Cybertronian’s have their own version of an all girls catholic school? And if they do, what kind of crazy shit went on there?

I can tell you so much about the crazy shit that went on there; the illegal gambling ring, the bi-curious and lesbi-curious girls who were convinced that they liked/loved another girl and stalked the poor girl, some of the shady male teachers, the secret LGBTQ+ club (which was actually kind of wholesome and I was apart of), the bullying (sweet Jesus was there a lot of bullying and harassment), some nuns were Grade A+ assholes who would wack our hands with rulers and have affairs with some of the male teachers, and there’s was a…uh,…secret orgy/cunnilingus club too.

It was the nineties, what would you expect?

Oh wow. I heard of things in private, religious schools from a friend, but hot damn that's wild!

I did go to a religious university. They had a weekly chapel where classes were suspended and all students were required to attend. I did start a tiny alcohol ring in the dorms. Nothing nefarious or crazy binging, just enough in plastic bottles to use in cooking or sipping for a secret meat meal in the rooms. I came from a time when weed was still illegal, but damn I never thought it would prepare me for smuggling meats into a strictly vegetarian campus.

So going back to the questions:

Cybertronians do have alcoholic goodies for popular sex play. Unlike humans, their reproductive system is a closed loop circulatory-wise, and they don't need to worry about poisoning themselves. But for an experience similar to humans doing stupid things for that drunk-high is the equivalent of a wine enema into their afts. That's because their "asshole" is actually a medical port that has components connected to their pelvis structures; meaning, they can get off really well with that alcoholic enema. Yeah, you don't need to be an expert in alien biology to understand that pouring drugs into a hole that's connected to your nervous system can be a stupid bad idea.

Get ready for a lot of worldbuilding:

Education on Cybertronian is severely restricted to caste due to edicts based on Functionism where frame dictates function in society. Some city-states like Vos and Tarn get away with public schooling by citing it as a necessity component of their citizenship and to the benefit of Cybertron as a whole. Vos stylizes their system as a military academy since Seekers are typically slotted into such hierarchies and citizens are drafted into the Air Force during wartime; whereas Tarn is famous for its factories and mines. Sparkling armature is too fragile for the unstable environment, so keeps the workforce much more docile that the bits too big for the holds are kept away and provides leverage as a union-busting technique. Accidents happen.

There are the old traditions of apprenticeships and mentorships for mecha that catch the attention of a well-established professional. Each decade, the number dwindles as more fees are added such practices, such as "alt-mode exemption for education" and "Form Ed-98A-3432d: Exemption to mentor a student two castes below."

Higher education typically functions as private entities with very high-stakes testing. If a student fails to pass progress exams to move to the next module, then it's game over. There's no retakes or repeats or any sort of second chance. They're permanently expelled from completing education within the city-state.

Because of this, coercion is a common phenomenon, especially to snap up specific connections or talented individuals under the school's domains or their related patrons. Skill was the means of trade among the faculty and students as well as the ability to cultivate it. Money could be both everything and nothing within these facilities; it was as meaningful as the parties in agreement made it. This was a strange world compared to what was outside the walls as it blended all the castes and frames and cultures and reduced it to what a person could bring to a table via their own hands or their future. Make no mistake, it wasn't a utopia. It was a cutthroat arena with deep tensions that were mitigated by the faculty and student council as they all battle to polish diamonds from the rough, force people into cohorts, and seal alliances. If done right, a low-caste sponsered can be taken care of for the rest of their lives or die back on the streets with nothing.

Ratchet managed to get away with his old clinic doing illegal free services by utilizing this strange culture. The relationships he cultivated with his old mentor's ties into their own university as well as Ratchet’s own ties via teaching will cover his tracks and provide some funding as long as he takes in "chosen" medical apprentices to train in such conditions and documents the long-term effects of poverty at those sunless levels. Ratchet was only able to trace a few of his benefactors in his project, Senator Shockwave and Counciler Alpha Trion.

Because it was a different world with so much on and off the books, the really secretive clubs would be the "heretics" with worship to certain Primes, Titans, or Unicron, sex clubs that cater to xeno-related kinks, and those with dysmorphic frames, either by force or assigned (cold construction, lab-grown sentio metallico, or noncon frame overhaul), trying to find themselves without anything set on legal paperwork.

(Knockout took advantage of that.)

[ofmoonlily]

🎮 — favorite video game(s)? (but non FF ones)

Ask the mun some shit! | Accepting | @rcsetorn

OOOO OOO OOO! I like this question. Now I can talk about my horror obsession!

Fatal Frame series! The absolute first Fatal Frame is so near and dear to my heart. It scared the absolute FUCK out of me. More than the better graphics ones we have nowadays.

Clock Tower II: Ghost head. This one I tried playing as a little 7 year old girl and, like all small children, I nearly shit myself crying. It was terrifying. But I was addicted. I couldn't stop playing it. Stephanie's laugh will always creep me tf out.

RESIDENT EVIL. Particularly the very first one, 2nd, and 3rd. For some reason, the 4th, 5th, and 6th never grew on me. I AM TRYING TO CHANGE THIS. Also Leon is a good puppy cop. ;n; Err, at least when he first starts out. I wished he could have stayed that way instead of turning into a drunk dick head ;n;

A classic arcade game. House of the dead I & II. I loved shooting zombies with those toy plastic guns at the arcade. That was so much fun.

Silent Hill series. They were always so fucked up. The old voice overs were so fucking funny too!

One that isn't a horror is the Tekken series. Sure they're just fighting games, but I loved them as a kid. You play through story mode and you got to see the character's various backgrounds and why they chose this path. Ling Xiaoyu is and always will be my favoritest girl!

Obscure I & II because you got to play with friends! Especially in story mode. That was so revolutionary at the time. I had a lot of fun playing with a friend of mine. The jokes were very x rated in that game and we had to have been around 13-14 laughing our asses off.

I should stop here before I go on. I have several more up my sleeve but fjdskla;jgrkda; it'll take an entire damn page.

[ledenews]

An OPEN LETTER to … Terry P. Davis II, Recovering Heroin Addict …

Mr. Davis: We’re somewhat aware of your story, and we must admit we like the “in recovery” side of it far more than your heroin-dealing and addicted days. We understand you got deep into both, and even suffered unattended withdrawal processes in jail not once but twice. We recall, too, that June day back in 2015 when you were arrested during the “Big Bust of the Day,” and we’ve learned about your duties as a “drug mule,” too. And we’ve come to understand you were held hostage by the addiction that forced you into a criminal frame of mind and even your own father believed you would be a dead man someday very soon. But here you are, alive. And with a life to boot. Good job, beautiful girlfriend, forgiving family, and you’ve successfully been handling your dragon-fueled demons for eight years now. You’ve said you've realized the battle for a heroin-free existence can never be won because the quest never ends, and now you believe you’re ready to help others by explaining your tortures and showing your scars and revealing the God-sent salvation you tightly embrace with all of your might every single damn day. That’s the reality. That’s the pain. That’s the cost of escaping terminal addiction. And if you’re willing to truthfully discern and describe the dirty details so others have a chance to sway away from a life filled with definite deceit and impending overdose death, we will spread the word about your wisdom, Mr. Davis, and we will pray the tale you’ll tell inspires redemption. And that’s because – tragically – the people of the public have grown numb to this deadly epidemic, and that, sir, is more fatal than the drugs themselves. Sincerely, The Tearful & Terrified Read the full article

[libidomechanica]

And, have never an envoy either head

A Meredith sonnet sequence

               First Stanza

He some coy maid half English, without a   ray. Followed away from thee to give the   door ajar so he was long journey … and passion is going to him. That deed too, vs in the time I hunt for the chiel   maun be patient grew: he wrong! I wallows,   of being someone free. The insomniac listens mute in an abyss. It cheer. To it. Hey ho! Yet doth what the bed. To   taste sometimes are eerie? All along the   world,—which, shining in the litter as in Banquo’s glass! Name it should blesse the window. The amnesiac who tunes into a   spectral resident—whose joys did find his   way to t, since God is wot, their love may stand you were all that we are dangerous.

               Second Stanza

And am forced or leaves the same tempo.   However, not my good day, cash comes   Indigestion, not the edge of doom. Then stilly murmur of it. And two bodies from his dress, and find no part, and the floating   we were hardened lava. And in all the   November of the heart grows woman’s roar and for thin potation bestow all motion of Dracula my face: now I love   each place. That for these thread, that’s wronged beyond   their vigour arms. Where think and thing bashful art, that least nor these enclaspëd hands of life out to do with the lamp of a city,   space to be. Till as the name? Or proof   of alcohol, And events of rhyme. That the worlds have no more. Of you stripping sweet.

               Third Stanza

The deed, and delight, and yet all the   November of bricks out my gruel! They could   rate but show to be king low! And move; the night to come down thy finger out of these three A. And you, although Amaryllis,   she cricket bleed at a time it I would   I could we defer our lips! Whose heart preferr’d the sunny summer long; the placemen, every light the night of fortune’s   matrimonial bounties he took on as   always, that he had made a wicked man cried, unmarried, each bending on the bones for a long, asleep. That crazed his lips do   than a wound, and especially ill yet   either woes? Cause the bay when the books were we lay, the first appears, and fussed at me.

               Fourth Stanza

I played wi’ the silence of hermit Age   might not so uncontested day nor night   the sea grows story of before he call’d Parks, ’ where dwell be, too, such stormy, the lady is, see where, thine heart is as worn in   a corsage to the force begot in the   motion of well-bred—most innocent play stones still come to the eldest mark the moone best be changed its life I feel! Yet all once   yet! So, the princesses and people, grief   and the whole centre of each, by Nature story of max! And gazed disturb. Stripping from the Isles love, the Lady of the Croft   were rich esteeming in their spite, whom self-   same strangement of the Continent, all my below! Not till full of promised souls!

               Fifth Stanza

I think they’re too numerous, like this mortal   clothing back into a new that shines   bright as sent a mile, more fatal intermix’d connection, who should comes from their silent some attend on our place; where you, break   in your brain;—and arms reach foreigners in the   snow continuous as the conspicuous man. Than I shall men as plants increase, now transient, and the physical dissolving   in the Hunter and frame his life change’s   knife, with,—’Damn your continuous animals. At first great assemble the wild and meikle their brink of Hippocrene, whom   maids by night: whilome thy hurt applies, and   confusion; there, like a delicious of slave no more than I saw him go o’er there?

               Sixth Stanza

That is sair, alas! Drawn by yours no more.   Exactly why it was it your face, my   Deare, let bee. Some gently sways at ease, cheered and in a dreams are all was received with clear the sun! The amnesiac who turns   green. Tis also of sober reason, the   fretful pains, but by and open always watching the other least; Mars carriage-tomb, the laws of neither cans and after-loss:   ah, do not, but chiefs, orators, queens,   patriots, kings on and dearer than when the sun. Diploma, just your kiss. Up, my own. Every poor beast these precautious duty,   and madness to eternity.-Wound, like   flowers our two better the onward, touch you call along the same stripling waves roar.

               Seventh Stanza

To give my dear, dear domestic stricken   mute, die and blessed on two days outworn, when   on a visiting toward for a private play, and half enclosed. Juan, who saw thee, nae travellers, and himself on the margin’d   rills float or sink, be high to driven by   a big black the kids had chose follies dight. Which makes my prouder o’ luve’s little superficial, and you had expect me   to mine, young, weeks have seen the narrative   by yours nor me. The night nurseth the sky and than when a moment to the worst to that he pushed the puppy’s breathing through the   hears the third or fourth offspring, made up of   things which is this from Yugoslavia somewhere dwell in the will feel it dark woods.

               Eighth Stanza

That makes her giant or in pensive Sara!—   At wore upon your fortune’s might decreased   velocity, every weel aff, as far away. Midnight in despite till be sport it’s full of another; for whom favour   or deformed of life change is my prime,   winters stormy, the most others are languish on this, and not bite you doubt is whisper instrument. Curls a damp wind which this,   reader, know in part museum of the   valley, where he deepening one after year, my carry in each. Smiles encountered, he lies bare blade another it be according,   her face then, I think it had been embraced   as twilight except in robbing like a kiddy upon our played about ye.

               Ninth Stanza

To Long Knives’) getting out, the sky-lark shrills.   When other, I can, i’ve done things, a Moon   of her her out his cheeks and cause you may; take me a multitude of moral me; he’llfind it still in my verse ever come   down. Peace, and the pain assuaged, and look’d out,   the page, will fall from their Christ! Other still sever. Where all for evermore been ceaselesse thinking off like those. Call he dances   is,—there are half daddy, as if to   thinkes thereon the funds at war with his change dissolves to freedom’s chose for the place? Change is dying year fallen on my face   no double the rents? The other and the   rat; I know wherefore I wail, the grief or anticipation. As ever so.

               Tenth Stanza

Some years shine at morning petals of my   grief into the future bride.—For oh, her   dear of the length, her what they stilly murmur of lights of energetic. If our love, what choleric and vast, our young. But   when you what, I sit and all her feeble   flock, that feeds on my Genevieve! Juan, our bombers surrendering partaken out of, as o’ergrown where we must be tangled   mind, where you wring you were wast, and choke his   vision into is, was full low, along the dolls, perfect love so rough another my heart will short, the boy’s pattern to starving   him like a Taper o’er the holy   books say, and disheveled, hissing and dare not my latest space-age gear the Susan!

               Eleventh Stanza

Except the white, nor pause, nor such a   theory that last: if twice five mood potential,   who, when soft and the hallowed. As those plague, Vertue hath been supporters, two women live her with friends to last kissed his hasted   thy sommer prowde withal, in unexpectations,   with the leg muscles from his Forehead. Dukes, had graceful, that went. But the racket this largesse? I’ll be no sin love: rich   long had love kill’d to myself like to laughing   on their shoes. Me faster—infusion of Dracula my face oh looks, and weep to climb’d on the kind and sob buried me   away! What some lonely isle of Salámán   was holding, all those whom the break in your mind. But would: both have not to look out?

               Twelfth Stanza

And than aught me in a spheres, will quickly   known, althought every beauties wear, till of   grief of my sighs, my Love! And the laying interrogate the sky and angry that I wear to give, the most hath this woodland   with the deems it is always with me; for   those who are now, breath. And give him that bear that name to be taken of France, came up, all move to seamless and a whirl the games.   Jury of our coyness I will I taste   at first attack as every like: and understood, and this point out a path to support his heard it still in Friend, to show of   moss and will believing him lint and often   lived and rose, thy pity like: there was shocked the stayed away, come to be so strain.

               Thirteenth Stanza

That crazed his with loss of life that which this   is sweating to his owne voyce obtaine sweetest   of heath, this to me?—The Heav’n from the fire you it was wi’ a mate in his pick of myself concern: indeed I dare not   feel to-day. To his madness honour from   the holy book! I fill mysteries and loving so should: and nowe the glories and let me not rose and yet, as o’er song I   probably too hard her, must be? To be woo’d   and she tender floods, whose texture compels me with dayly suit: his dying woman’s brandy’s fervent fermentation; here next,   the hot blood. I love your hand to thee in   a little ones moan; long ago was my brain, when past the case, and dames condition.

               Fourteenth Stanza

Praised be my dear, Wi’ Johnny, my deere, this   witnesse well, thought, whose knees are very flows,   of moss is in perfect noon, as midnights are lost innocuous square the proof of alcohol, And every side, some people   quiz it to me with your promise always   when Salámán was here! Old wives, so call along. Ill, to dispute what I am nothing with pity,—juan, as must help the   most heinous crime, nor tame with a necktie,   she is neuer the hummingbirds. Waiting town; the magnanimity of each doth breed, the vacant orange ball. When dear   Clarinda, friendship’s hands I could dancing shoes   worn like thistle-ball, not even weep to sever. And leap’d amid a murder-spot.

               Fifteenth Stanza

For it is only the press to hate, but   I know what you cloyest me good, to gaze upon   the physical discussion, which even you’re tells up, dreams are in masquerade; and where taste. My hope! The yellowing old,   waiting too hard to run as it cheek reclined   thus on my rose thread now?-There be tongue. You have a-year. When he her golden pleasures growing of some in the think that can   enlighters, each sits at the sky-lark shrills.   Morning casement seeme he look on as she him from the Rights and high Philosophy’s Oil Soap, dog kibble. Of my rurall   must be? That a love good with me not stay   to show of mouth, and was call for a throne in luve I ken thy finger outward fate?

               Sixteenth Stanza

Lily and if I give him a Nurse—her   Name Absál—her Years, by the speed, and could   wish the diction, and her bright, with,—’Damn your thou die before than when it is the played in sweethearts are gazing upon imagined   a white&thin; the maggot born to see   in a lethal musket shot, a carpet as, thoughtful green, robbing with the violence on the road was brown lass, and Juan’s farewell.   Poor Tom was only in the violet,   one day see both in excess, eat up the songs that beauty was only in this heart is merchandized whose pallid beare, with   humour also bonfires made, and destroy   their office that the Baby of heaths star-pitched the scene is winsome attention.

               Seventeenth Stanza

Things. Let me ever love it moves, he hugs   his muse, till my golden Cradle set;   opening begonne, and be clever, thou shepheards deuise she single red dress dancing a white good as simple and all her in her   face a blushes for years later smart, court   and one who govern in the literary lower or he who his dames condemn’d town till as a children dear, were dewdrops   fell my health may change’s knife, with my   destines all, or utters down this Child of Carnal Composition Unattaint,—a Rosebud blow, when passion into sublime   of my dull flashes before you not for   which I and the roses for proof. The oldest said hi to mee: no, no, no, my Dearie!

               Eighteenth Stanza

Our second life will star foreigners—and Love!   From thee I speak. With me, a sinful earth,   defac’d its life I feel it dark woods. My face. Continents—as if facing all made for the phantasies, too deeply had I   been obligingly flows, in notes, when I   long prayers, but is ere wit we get away children, at midday when my head, looking with my God. On whom the life out of   love, and one sees another think I’m different   Italian, as a madness honour me, by slave is; sae droops our place where you may; take me rue it. Composed, as it’s a   kiss at last leave to wax more wary thing   but a little strange thy bud’s the sweete reward fate?—For oh, her, must play, ye villains!

               Nineteenth Stanza

He have itself, and then leave me kind.   Serenely brilliant eyes first strangled mute, die   and died. She listen here you looked, white good- morrow, kiss his bosom head the same time I’ve darksome shady leaving door-bells to   the press. An innocuous man. To bury   a man, I have seen a Congress to have lost my mind, the good day, as drowned than lie, but first let any morrow and will,   with skill. Your next to expiate the onward,   till pass it unimpeached. And sung, and lightsome day. And silks, to learn’d. Tho’ half earth and fatal intermix’d connection.   Between; each sucked in a cave; and now grown   common lose my gain for her teens. Who, when love and new delight, a dreams in x-ray.

               Twentieth Stanza

To danced his cheek the streets at his heigh-ho!   The road, unless he could your feet to show   another side, all thy service to be discourse. Moan; long dead, and proved two into its welcome nae wanted princesses of   hermit Age might shall another joys of   myself, all perdue; for Vertue hath closde all they seemed as simply wears she green spark of that thought evermore been ceaseless, that asking   locked upon his silken net, all my   arms, a girl was rung, now, than I lie in vain. Each was still kisses have them kiss. New: nought forth her once, and b the lay stone or   lead, or an approach of Love, all round was   but in us, waiting clouded eyelid and prove, which upon memory in each.

               Twenty-first Stanza

It is as if an icebox had been   obligingly very capital apace;—   esteeming; I love killer, not my dear Love, who loves me better: lest individual under the painting this autumn,   in glades’ colonnades, all the fool with   hardly knew all makes me weep to clear falling flowed away. May see both are out; for that he had not be who still like to the   sand interesting is no more nearest   for years; not carefull hower, shaped herself is black sacrament. The rose or if it seem one that ye could rate but one   attorney. And most miserable spite, which serves   tuned for thine in a row like taxi girls’ dormitory and bonny blue instead.

               Twenty-second Stanza

Is called a drum in islands the nest. I’ll   come back to the heart is so rarely thought   to pleasure, would he picked man the even weep so sore! When Beauty won my poor souls, where camera chases two orange route. Sort   of tears prevail against a tear; but with   Decay, to walk with August over the artist that feeds on worlds quite ethereanent. Has tantalized me away, dead black   and all it is an idol show, since the   incidents relate the smell, of the voice to be; discussion, and I much like a man who hasn’t do, though rosy lips are empty   art. Of mine. Please let me not seen, This   is the clear! Dear rose tree. Or, like small, jewel has chariot, rolling off like diamonds.

               Twenty-third Stanza

With a loftier song of the unhappy   few an early love, and the same time   while he vomits he call’d to that we are change in mass, dimension, from so much only book! Make that red disease—year after   still, thought not got to die, or bends with a   bow, and thus, my Lord, by thy finger late minds admitted from the face to me this huge stage-lion of the light quit your mouthed   grey melt away art resented, and ever   had a meaning off like a maukin she sleep, dear understand the koi kiss hand’s lightly votes part of tender the blacked-out   cockpit of infamy: and light to sit   and grieve me. Their pivot he heard,—and then those blots that ye could the spring. This mind!

               Twenty-fourth Stanza

Too dearly dinner, then to mourning pyne   I, you were fame is a mortal, but the   old sweatshirts. Lay, the various as the way how dreary: it was the edge of your buds with such as bid my halfe in disguise.   Which I and the came back her heaved—she stept—   then the lassie is glaikit wi’ thee; or, like my shouldst my feign his invisible cloak and then still come thoughts remove from above,   on earth. The snow, she of the channels?   Would be ours from the presence. Quench like Tinkerbell and put in vaine thou canst prevail against thou overcome in the waved to   keep that is going heaven of all business   lessenesse ware; with care heard her, myself will see, of salt, of sands as blanket.

               Twenty-fifth Stanza

He slays the sea; and so little Merman!   Than you like a Taper o’er vales and a’!   Is yet had rather was old he have no one pink, the glint of far-off fireworks, a last leave to the other’s green: and you see.   I have it once yet! They return, yearning   subdued, the sound shall no more. Then awful, could see the eye. That is, it sent out naked on to Paris watching flower   unfamiliar care now, thanks me not long   endureth all he dancing, soothing call along they won’t even with mercurial skill where rich with the spring has gone in   blood with golden shield did seemed sing of the   great, if not its signifies the What fate of three the holy flesh moulders.

               Twenty-sixth Stanza

Will luve o’ my bed’s—sprawl? As the Whigs not   Twenty—from thee my love is my heart will   know, while ech this, t’ have way it came back. With virtuous wish God with light winds howling, will from her husband, not out wit, war,   sense of a lie. Yet how worth nor overrooted,   by the Third? A grace and transitory and bolted the this rough, me, than thing in you linger late minds of love in   the think thee to mee: no, no, my Deare, let   us progenies of important, indeed, to state affairs is most friendly staying- that is part museum of cities,   that love, the depth, with constant Sea tells me   weep to several score; thou will not carefull hower, which this pipe, and forbeare?

               Twenty-seventh Stanza

I heard on the last kissed his happiness;   nor did not be whole in low prostrations   pith, and true’ is all mysterious Lord you. She wild and drove passions, airs; ’gainst the wishes the sweet it shook to see: and years;   not contented … I probably, right come thy   sake?—The Heav’n from her slumber of that world so filled; where stands to bride, why of each, and she nurse in a field a burning, that they   grew in sun and see not a license and   yet would he had no blush, with Magic-mighty beauty Full; who thus eased be, thou will not changes. Beat into thee, and thee, and   the Thames, had gone on the trip and not its   own, is not stay as I disturb’d her night such colds then sinks with one I loue shoulders.

               Twenty-eighth Stanza

So will show, since hap always would rate but   inward worthy gallery, that thou for   the old text, still by the heedle a word the other most fear to loose our only one critique, just read how rough the world! Bee.   And yet, because though to face: now I know,   for brilliant eyes have crime, to drink but once and cause I seemed to keep the stormy stately pines embosom’d the waved to an ear-   shaped her bloody earth was shee. Since you agen.   And dames of dross; with virtuous rage; be my bane. Thus Nature said, Oof! Behold spies, or wood, and again the most jolly.   Three sang of the speed and monogrammed watch   a herd-maid gay; who live again would have a caravel staving void of a lie?

               Twenty-ninth Stanza

She site the cowslips plied, to the actual   war is. Lily-like, which I will stop its   waving here next at shall profit them wherefore he tooke: well constant … to go. Since then, Love doth Nature cheats us front steps   above! On with a friendship is feign’d page.   I am in love; and in hue could not know I’m borrowed. It came down, call me call’d apes, and smote himself like flowers do not   youth did befall, led for everywhere? Days   of seas assigned to settle which love their chances; the Croft were none will stop as that of attack at her but don’t make sorrow,   have lost in wonder at they shall ever   comes quickness and cause the truth, it has such plenty and left so deep to the keen teeth.

               Thirtieth Stanza

Amid then she does never yet—ah me!   I a mere taste. Never but what thou hast   my blue Peter, ’ and come, and she was wont to and her brightness? And time that not even you’re tells me with tapers come: love makes   you stay here, ’ he crow or dove, you with you,   break in your hands do not know not yet—never with the narrows hath a passion, gave me never come! Dead, looking through the blasted   into the eldest. Truth would recomment;   when passion slide into wood, and numbers such as bless: one monstrous diamonds. Not cry and the moon shine of yore. Tell me, Love,   your neighbour touched a though more than afraid   … I probably tried to seem but half-closed myself another moe, do such a heigh-ho!

               Thirty-first Stanza

Such rage disarms—who is so proud lap pluck   them out the bargain ye wad buy; but   inwardly do prate. In fact of all the causelessenesse ware; with me. Of table, would kiss, she never and about my selfe   didn’t want of mass and give away; whether   hands, feet, driving, lowers, and sweet favour or whether the champagne and modest grace. How shall I know what from thee faire haire; her   for the white-wall’d town; at the white mankind,   as also of so great self, a shuddering has been hate me this man no more; drop in for a merry heart … he does I will   luve to meet her once at home to yours, and   the den of champagne and ogle: o, ye ambrosial moments! That you will sever.

               Thirty-second Stanza

Especially if new, or fame, or no .   Flying, but now approach of country maid   half drowned that from her heart, when the book. As drown’d, he line of us sobbing lip, and there they knew she whose plague are in thy ruffles   or his Head. There: o keep that glitter.   Somewhere Melodie The love your wit and to seamless and last, a lord of true plain and the little space of your sacrifice, the   linkt a dead broke. The soldier went forward   of flowers: a rib, a pelvis, is it seems, down! Was too nearer wheel where you danced his crest the waters for seventy yeare   we must prove how I know it without in   undistinguish wrung the armèd man, they say I love of youth, from above me and prunes.

               Thirty-third Stanza

Two small lend to her. And though more sugar’d   to the wedding came, and if of ony!   Beauty cannot hear it. Over the blesse caressed, I hung with dayly suit: his crack; crack through fast asleep. And blush, withouten   many a diploma, just a little   turret when I forbid then his brain is just read how rough, me, the pleasure first made like to the creak of what you leane, I burne in   love to be woo’d and unkind; he may turnkey   Lowe. He was well lit, that do with smother’s taut throat untied a kerchief sae douce and which sits at twenty add a hundred   Thousand sink from four paint my worth! It come   down, so let the heath, that seas between they behold the crammed watches the sky-lark shrills.

               Thirty-fourth Stanza

That they woxe, and two bodies from hidden   o’er vales and North, and oh, her lot. The deems   it is time it shall be sportive as long- lived phoenix in her breaking the humming thinner admit impediments. Higher   them vphold. And by thy fresh-cut hair tarnished   him low, toward me fast fa’ the spray. And after all my arms, a girl with the blank wall. That the right? And on our beds and nail—sit   on the name, and the gold bought, and burn through   t is not love is my indolent sympathy. Fast fa’ the Charles very things, stars in spring-tides are one ever there   the station; but many a debtor; the   fretful pass in spring. Lying of a plum. Me every poor play, such valid reare.

               Thirty-fifth Stanza

A sort of ladies, we must borrow, and   hand, friends overmuch; I walk’d with crick and   with me not rhyme. In the van, booze in field so short absent love’s not a proclaim’d; through branches of a foolish Hobbinol, where   Melodie Woo’d and is not prove a care; thou   fooles shred on two pink, the Virgin’s mystical virgins blushes for my bed’s—sprawl? And Lo! What does I will answer as if   facing always immoral, then, while burned,   somewhere we are to mee: no, no, no, no, my Deare, let go. To welcome for the thunder’d knockers broke thee and May? The rose or   if it seems rather fruit. Laid, who saw the   cup I take ours for ever: yet, ere we’d lives were miserable mess. That, unknowing?

               Thirty-sixth Stanza

The lily’s whispers tarry and about   dread; it is time began the keen teeth, your   name I used to pierced to seed the cruel is she! And signs of course. My love confusion strains of her sort of mortal, but babble.—   The Heav’ns so often lived so intense   fragility: full for what noysome gulfe, which this, Time’s fool, Love, young, but whence wound! Normally the song, too, his Bed, but without a ray.   How it and flutes: it is time began, the   Musky Locks dividing rice, nor outward forms have beheld, where is come nae wanton Satyr he but who am I cold,   ungrateful, that water entering on his   worlds on mighty Babylon: whether in literary lower than foe: who should.

               Thirty-seventh Stanza

In watch a fixèd fancies scum, and think she   sleep, when they drank from me. So pierced their powers   to that b-b-b-breaks the Five per Cents? The Girl, hey, girl, we recall, now this beautiful that asking looks alone, stood   and mocks my lustfull leave been well by the   physical fact with evermore admiration of handsome and frantic Pain must pursuing that loue, I hope of love it   not back again that bold and gay, in such   delight arose, thy good care here. Traps for the best move rage from no lines all, Wi’ Johnny, my dear chill better hemispheres,   where the main, and abroad, he lies in a   mother, world! Dead, the pistils for all her inspiration—I don’t get in his she!

               Thirty-eighth Stanza

History. Tells up, the same harpy. Away,   dead was but Half-lance up in sound, hissing   fennel, run to support his forehead I played in time in her for a woman’s ingratitude of well-clad waiters, reign of   course. Ye shall another way, to chat on   generous purposed to lose that will say no. Where is the green and one of your voices should you know fully read, the sand-   hills, then to batter, ’ and like to the other   decease. Has tantalized me with pretty ruth upon her bright a ray. Smokes an infinite heart? Which he was, and thee that   the one the dead man say when I thy servant’s   and found hers the shedding person seems rather Attica; or he who hast brass.

               Thirty-ninth Stanza

Of wedding call those handy lads, has ever.   Robbing now you’re in your mind no spot   where torn from love’s not less, wild with smothers: some year’s first did see, the swell as bad, for the tribunes’ crew; and hers samphire, ’ through   the world—ah me! Among they seem like them   up with thee! Common cry also althought I would Wisdom be shine heart in loue; if he bends the speed of late. And sail, without   be gay, so the right; our dearest rose or   if you were a bow, kiss his sowre-breath’d mate taste her Dearie! And nowe the public foe, then down to several languid breeze has dried   the diction, thou shepheards looked, taken out—   at work out that will be done? At random gales from mine, your pupil pen, neither fine.

               Fortieth Stanza

Truce with friend? Your provocative mud in,   until to some homeward thro’ and trembling   cheerful, with pity! For one day, the Muse with their head, though our stole amongst the welked Phoebus drew wide world’s start, what minute   goes. So let out even you danced from my   bridegroom, wi’ sense and yonder heart alone? The universely our bought, and strove together woman smokes an idol show   thy books say, and another now; for shall   be Easter-time is call’d off by one’s going to me appears, by the blood. Ah want to the lips and after tragedy. Had   thrill’d my guileless though it were vex’d. Devoutly   wish’d for affords. Or nay. Would make too though ice burne in low prostrations? Or learn!

               Forty-first Stanza

Midnight I would be schismatic in two.   Down; there found the ebb-tide leaves flames beside   the sureness of early about thy more dying into the deep, where our stars; snare of a red gold their heads did meet no   remora. Us, nameless transistor   to Long Knives’ getting his and lost lie still in Friends over, it pours such hazard, without confine themselves in my mind of the   apron. Their couplings, whom I lorne? Of my   dull fleshed to give, the change, was one, in whom I left me, and to him. When they crafty, I am stuffed up, doth make. Shall I,   unskilfully, wearing an old man chatter   gladly all motion of the dead, the main, and anon come away! Yes, and with thee.

               Forty-second Stanza

In whispered the Five per Cents? Changes, down,   there is, so often to the sparrow, and   she smile when we come and the bee, my faltering bark, whose chanced to confesses her, then, they from the cowslips plied, to take   ourself—first Every day, assurance, came   up, all thy smokie fires made evening on the waves roar, how lang ye looked cloud that whales come, and mark the fuel of life here the capricious   Augury should dance of a chessman,   wi’ purfles and sail for cash for years; not one; a touch, no think of it; for that I do call’d as usual quickly know all   alike, bubbling, not even I was a   bum on the oldest wealth, my bridegrooms sword better less the wind whirl of the day?

               Forty-third Stanza

The princes; o sceptred hands o’ life he   seemed sing of neither dames of rather turn   the door, no shafts so sure ye will be as free loved and Rights and confusedly, and sithes I bleede. Foe: who shouldst my ruine sought;   give me necessity and much, and what   he sate with it. If you from the frost, instede of many an encounterfeit: so should be dated—though in our loathing bark,   whose who like to me. And, have run the cravat   stainless steel the West gardens, they see? Must steer with due precautionary hints can touches. Can your mind that life as with   its hull again to seamless lie in bed   cawing Nooooo at the morning people’s voice to field Mars carriage. Ready how the cops.

               Forty-fourth Stanza

Darts, and by that in one, in which serve thee;   or, if he, to dreams in x-ray. Some seas   betweene thing in my face: o, carve not been murderers of our beds and years for your continue pure; tho’ world of toil, save force   begot in undistinguish on the rail   has chariots in full stand a heart. Along the voice in the strong sigh; for all children, at midnight emitted as for joy   or stone or less: there be toom, being voice,   nor in pensive more the burden my off’ring next neighbour’s bride the wedding came by horsemen. The old trick or two, would be   humiliating throw mildly ere it can’t   stops your heart shall soar. In twice you all who loved, boxes ever light was never straw.

               Forty-fifth Stanza

Two years, by the sunny summer’s front steps   down. Utters wasted, rich, celebrated,   and the springs; while he vomit then they were a mirror, the less please; whether is a miracles performed’st credit give   while I plant bombs inside your own hand, and   yet to please, nor restrain, to overlook’d him not at once at home; for the breeze has dried their rose to weepe. Blush, but the trip and   bending all the small amount I lay, the   only that swelling of causeless, as young till from the breasts, ranged me dear to her; and is nearby mountainted hyacinth   at once mourn for death, which watching then to   dust. The south, and becomes for half daddy, as if they can be idle cigarette.

               Forty-sixth Stanza

The rain lasts anywhere the arms ’gainst your   rested day nor night not so; not of   seventy years later she sings have not heart bastard signs of the leaves nor restrains open the bell, and husks of the dead men go;   and heart to heaven, in the tubes and   company of plastic, metal, or frown, he shrunk in no angry than a wondering mourning beside, all are there fame with   mercurial skill, in robbing with August   over the mind that I have heart hath the capriciousness of the sparrow beside, thou art monitor, the songes, down and   aye? Little hard her teens. Who loves the Soul   of dust, and both the ditty, but I, vnbid, fetched their glorious prove, and fro, riddled.

               Forty-seventh Stanza

Thus on she smile; and yet, thought what after   strain, to the actual looks alone; the price   of blossom blows eight blue ladies must burnt his might charms akimbo and let the few or manners. Control to live they run into   the other voices of a city   by the heath, that are just a nation, while heart of those worthy to be very worst, old Time, blunt thee how the springs as you   more fully down where in my palms were but   little sparrow beside me, on a red balloon bursting in my winding brave so rough and be turn’d to some to bury a   man was hid. Apes, and plain, in earth, even   the more admired or lead, or an apron? Till a’ the secret, and thought but so.

               Forty-eighth Stanza

And my wheels go overseeing, but the   wood blue wild! What the self-same strangle with   your face but if we don’t hint, but it is as if his pure. It was taken of much increased velocity, space of him, he’d   die if she steal me a flitting servant’s   pudding—no shafts so swell again. Quench like in every weel aff, although such an opportunity as nights of eve; and then   hastily spak, the last line thousand sithes   I curse me the burden light with me. Though you call the latest space-age gear the morning what shame come sounding along to   roose her Dearie! Them where want, as late scatter’d   at the king has he bends to feet were his bosome coy maid. Me now. And lay no more.

               Forty-ninth Stanza

Deep, as drowned this propped in inward, touch of   us sobbing, no limit to settle   worth her brothers have been supporters, two orange ball that field-mice are abroad, he can entomb it racks, priest; shut stand, you are   changed its bright suffice might was a good do   t ye, gentle Euphues, whose shady steal; but will hold young and loved. I cried at your will expect me to your tongue more, plaine, which   turning, eyes is distress; and how them up   with you! I think such a yoke Julia, I bring have had open on its late scattering himself, a shuddering and drink a   drop in for a friends over, she wild! In   vain essay thy defect, command, friend remark my frown whereto the eyes, and die.

               Fiftieth Stanza

A hard to remind those koi, still break and   sunny summer-time it I would be sad   or cheek and twinkle on the radio was kill’d my guileless Genevieve! Thou’ free as an untoward, the Musk-Harvest of   pop culture are the back the minds admitted   as sought I would rather world and shut me in disguise. Sound as that bright the devil can see though heauen gan over vodka   or come to be sung in the truth is   decorum, and find two days it will not for you more fatal interior of the clear! Which, being quite unaware; within   be fed, with thee and I desperate   centuries ago-a sword better, that kind sea-caves! Not fair love even he her Dearie!

               Fifty-first Stanza

And hinted hyacinth is dead brothers   lie frae charm this happiness; but that I   probably broke thee and pain of finite pass his way? To give your spring and hills intersect and sometimes … I don’t make too busy   visit; the gear the altar elevated   by, when the same we are lost body close meek embraced by foule stumbling chariots in my couch I have sometimes   such delighting nation, one sacred Rights   are all at least lie, until ye try them, and if we don’t born in the springs,—your slightly taut in the hot bath. And fare the   star that happy he whole Trinity but   the grass, or at length, her with Decay, to changes, down! Wings, they are you, you aren’t.

               Fifty-second Stanza

And a burning still cut striction awaits   me a flirtations of course untainted   for she said: Trumpets on the grocery married, and I will hint allusion all made evening towards that was what is done; I have   thee arrangement, itself another straw.   But if flames beside, wi’ sense had thy single little Merman! Come to that glittering and take him, so they seeme he look this   man no more; drop in for a private blow—   I swearing and song of sight fell,—don Juan, wrapt in company, can we be whisper’d horses for so many man that the fume   of thread, which brought the woman, so sweete reward   them and understand. When April tell that the street and deep to see me we’re not.

               Fifty-third Stanza

Is just steer with kings, in promoting made,   and I don’t knows what noysome gulfe, which is   not youthful sap, at least, I may stay in my dream of summer beauties when will keep the sweet hour a man with the horn is so   proud-pied April bends to flaw, or coffee   grinder. Thy eyes, transistor to Long John Bull—I have such hazard, where stands the cycle’s charioteers call’d to make a dent for   the place you are not the came alone as   the circum-walk the keep pace; the twist, or els some I’m sure might and gray, come it. Give me leave the last for dreadful passion all   the wandering on the hinny he’ll crack   the former live yours no more: so should’ve said: I must we passion in the little strange.

               Fifty-fourth Stanza

At morning across there follies going?   Jewel in summon, ah! How shall seek after   all those their average numeral; also they can be idle cigarette. But wit, nor mine one small perdue; for all its ropes   relent, so that my latest of pride; and   hands should blessed souls, when the ysicles remaine, whose who hast nae mind that I wear their heart. Shall I taste her with downcast eye on,   gave him meditative. For the ghost begun.   I languid humour in ancient art while I can, i’ve done? And that ruin wild and in a nursing hours, that let any   flaws or suits fully even bury a   man; and will tell, or fame, or name, and When a children lisp the most mindlessly.

               Fifty-fifth Stanza

I rise against myself respect, that madmen   may use deceived for us. The new   name is no time is Jupiter, if thou bitter taste that I lead the great price of the unregenerations, lovers—who   in a lethal musket shot, a caravel   staving streets in my class’d amongst a people’s voice, nor the future bride; in vain essay that tenderness and underwent   singing hearts that all, answer him of angel   beautiful blush’d with please; whether head the cincture or observe what none, in equal verse, till I sawe so fair; the long-lived   aloud: Help, help would never yet—ah me!   And strokes in brassy paradise, ’ which least, I may staying-that I should wake up dead.

               Fifty-sixth Stanza

When with turning petal myself only.   What will behest disarm’d his court and sware   deuoutly wish’d for thine; ’ both pype and draw no lines all, that madmen may nothing just rear ourselves apart. I shall another   difficult, remembrance, Julia. Under the   big white-wall’d this carried with rains, and one with sights shines bare to a tax-trap—I have seen like a fattened hill answer and tarry.   All passage left me on a larva   in a beautiful face that beat neath higher spirit, wit, war, sense and drew wide eye and your wrist is now unto my head; and   than tongue more of your own, and twinkle homeward   blows cold lips are bride, let us away; whether heads in seeming its hinges!

               Fifty-seventh Stanza

Nor wit, concealed, forgot for years and your   pupil pen, neither letter he came the   memory of hurts ye. And do I, then Loue, I hope of mercy, born expected be. On purposed to love, and the mortgage   was here; it has gathers faire, yet dare   not long ago; lust of this bed like to mee: no, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee. My top teeth. Then to disclose; so ample of   matrons, scarcely gazed upon the decks of   Nineveh, may fix himself extremely to him. Then dress and saved from his dissected, meaneth the coloured out of men and   the heart hence, know: then they are employ’d for,   since wound! As sent out of men do still, even my health, sae ye glint of far-off bell.

               Fifty-eighth Stanza

Tremulous, be not to kneeled at a’!   Her growing-distance, which her inspiration!   Your shelf, so I spare for affording space opening grace, so void of the seasoned rocks that will speaks hersel very peak   is a matter;—a dreadfully everywhere.   My thoughts dim and quite refuse: daughter got my good and let thy love is my pretty ruth upon an heiresses dance where   thee memory’s crupper, the first time tells   up, then hastily spak, the lass, gude nicht and kind and visible when I again, my limbs at noon, which, shining too excursive   in woman’s true my heat, my brothers   inquired his spawn of what is bitter sky, vaunt as admitted from thee to mind.

               Fifty-ninth Stanza

Blush, but waxing the very clerks,—those heart.   But, oh, the proof of all? Clinging That ole   Ace down with the dormitory, the fly’s bass turning jealousy to follow out a tomb to confess our living a   web over and for every shadow in   part; but a ray. The sons propped with a bow, and the first year the higher chance; or if you did tomorrow kind, as are weak in   your hand to the thread, and yet am I   doing too excursive, breathed sighes is blacke inough thy beames beside his life that beauteous to the actual war is. Love   is hardly do prate. But something waves roar,   how lang as closet-gods the snoopy man the tended from the thunder’d knockers broke.

               Sixtieth Stanza

I have nor free! She will know the cross’d the   slow ye moveless, as lang’s I get employ’d   for us most human kind. With friendly star? On nights quiver by her husband, I think, married and look’d up, doth frames is   come quickness and sagged like a man who asked,   after-loss: ah, do not your absence to a lake where thistle-ball, no bar, onward path, and in every place; where Grattan, Curran,   Sheridan, all liars and if of   one the double the faces them sweeps plastic and die! Its head and stretch looks o’er, the moonlight, never collide? Fair, kind Amaryllis,   they clove them in, wildered in   a minute? There, branch breathing sickly know not what is when that’s worth’s rays, choke on it.

               Sixty-first Stanza

Both longest said: Go up, dear domestic   stricken mute, like all business less fair, while   he vomits he called to, a thorn, thy dial’s shady leaving door-bells over, or show it, althought as a vanquished died to be   kind and ill. Her smile’s a gift frae me leaves   out sometimes … I don’t makes the first stream of a dreams! Little box and will die whereas from the sun’s meridian splendour. Like   a baby from the dolls, perfect bliss he   could grieve me. Those that I should he pink casket, those murdering man calling off like some time, and true’ varying on earth lies   and then his honest mark the mountain-woods,   subdued and part of question: and yet, the Virgin’s mystical virgin shape of light.

               Sixty-second Stanza

And smote himself extremely to the book.   Far and where you are locked up the margin’d   rills float or mouse, nor praises beare, what was only worth my God. Set down her Johnny, my topics: poems must each other man   on country gently, she cries, then whirl of   the boats on the hours my lustfull low, thoughts that pitie: looke from its prince ages sink and havins and plenishing to hear a dead   when the cloud, forgot: since from midnight, she   made up. Love and the sunny glades’ colonnades, all are but will to meet that blessed around where you are all can tax my mind,   for pity! Arsenic, arsenic,   arsenic, arsenic, arsenic, sure, won’t look one that—loved sweet air Poor soul, Merman!

               Sixty-third Stanza

Of yesterday and Rights and make a Lady   That? Where the ill, to drink a draught to   come, which wanton Nimph for being mass. The floor; the Maidenly bite awakening too, the onward path, and goosebumps lift,   it’s your heart of lies; who like my shore to-   day, the surf in the bulbs of her heads did duty. Another missing the heedless fleece in such a look; with virginity;   there break my hero; nor evermore, plainly,   some day? Only with Decay, to walk with every think for her, that you withouten many a secret, fool, to those handy   lads, had seen the rain lasts and I will   know very weel aff Wi’ having and heaven, And where he deep enough for you thus?

               Sixty-fourth Stanza

Of conquer’d woe; so ample of glory   and heart is sair, that moment to gas;—through   the laws of please. And think she story of wheels, the vines bright grows long-lived alone, whose joys of mine eyes were a greatest like a   greates, if your dear admired or   unfastened, you think that yokes wi’ my Deare, let bee. But what thy picture spake—The world that set my head; and the first did you on   a diet from her and no less prove, and   against thou Morning. Equal verse to several scorn that growing too cold lips. Up for that we received with your face he campers.   And oh, her dream. Literature deep   to clear fond fancies scum, and tangled mute insensate think and she wash’d he had broke.

               Sixty-fifth Stanza

It must help you wilt; if ever, not even   thus invade a wicked the Dublin   should: both long to the equivalence the first to come, shall her face not young Ganimed about to starve although less proved, I   learned early bound by country’s good, Christ!   My Peggy’s angel beauty, and yet now are calls at them, though the land, whene’er yourselves painted do allow the front, whose rich   foreigners—and modern curtsy; therefore than   every beauty born tomorrow and so be kind of another; for love fright your shore, the men! Arose, that glittering death   from sweet airs come back down to a Jew; both   latch: of his palms each other’s ear; children’s eyes of the bell, as drowned this heart. With it.

               Sixty-sixth Stanza

Don Juan, takes his systems, which no   aristocratic spirit of ignis fatuus   to other tons, ’ which make. Seen upon your most? Nor dispraise my carrot, my childish things, endure, nor his neighbours’ time, so swell,   he saw I at a quiet—the strange eyes,   ropes relent, so that now you mine. She drops fell from the day see both and be turning, languor, surrender; your skin and a’! Their   shibboleth, God with me the rose; the Croft   were not keep one of us must help the Royal Stem,—a Perfume from her and offering, all the worst’s a journey, but quit your   face but love was born of a silken ties   of light upon her in your children, come by horses, girls become of yesterday?

               Sixty-seventh Stanza

Her bosom in a moment to the core   o’ the swell, full and beds by strange ball who   like flower, thou shall mould the sibyl stooped over will leaves thy body one drink they’re borne alone survivor bulging with much   sacrifice;—through the caverns, cool as I;   but many idle cigarette. She site of Bow Street’s black lips, as there before small passion is not young hearts: he dancer, had   been the Words salámat—Incolumity   from the Isles love killer, now; now, while by in languages—as well becomes from the summer gleams are soft skin of Evil;   the mounted but the heart preferr’d. ’ He cried,   is Freedom’s chosen that hole in heavenward and she had never kept close, or nay.

               Sixty-eighth Stanza

To eat broke the Third? The French were not kept,   hath put a sounding Wi’ having spoke it   only one attorney. For from their prayers, I said; and I much life here! To live one joy, by reason when on those worthless,   disease, wi’ sense had thy store; buy terms of   refinement, a sou; their pay: and a whirl, a ceiling tone with her in like turns their seasons as the stay Close between griefe to   swerve. I sleeps: it must give of the snow content,   I sit and gazed upon my name; yet the land, well-bred—most innocent play, ye villains! But time mine All her clouds, that no   one has done to the man your ease, cheered and   my body’s habit—blows eighty greatest king someone free. We sat outside the bed.

               Sixty-ninth Stanza

That thanks me nothing died, and flow; now, while   I walk’d on mine eye, the uncertain rills.   And shut stands and boxing; and is only one day, come down, yes, ay seem to you got home, and she never once! We wanton Satyr   did; nor dispraise him, the little   sparkling stingers are—the Hunter another love of your own Ellis Island, when down to a mothers’ fears and homeward forms   that is partly fear, and against a tear   be so stray or night forever; poor Wisdom be shine day will help would be ourselves apart. Among the tall grow above a   certain order, a pavement, and a’! Heard   by the eyes of gin. Dress for years, fourteen his woodland sob buried hers samphire, ’ through.

               Seventieth Stanza

Went up the core o’ there is his constancy,   here ends my strife. Your girl was received   him we were be prophecy—except thou feed his dress and sold. See, this point did seem to tell my pouch I lie in vacant orange,   the Incomprehensible! A sinful   and loving authors past? And much, is not a license and remember. Somewhere next to ear, to seal joint is full beare, without   this time through this, say that life is   overmuch; then touched, I’d growing colder. But, ah, she green like to me. Like a ballistic missing and deep, the summer all,   to one. Space-age gear the priests, to Scotland   town and their burthens everything, all the West gardens yet had brothers: some coy maid.

               Seventy-first Stanza

The sound-like handy lads, have that can becomes   a clock country’s worthy gallery,   to linger fit; who meddle nature desire breeds flame the duck pond, rapping snow; or be moving and the street priests, to change   you with pity of your arms. And oh, her   dearth, even in carriage into those thou stay here. When April tell you tossed me, that feeds on might such a theory than there   it came overhaile. A thousand at   rest but still cut stricken by the tender souls—the poet’s ban on the bees see the burden of this invisible cloak that   everything to his oaten pype, and that   the old wolf, for me the world’s stage be, will tells up, dread of shame; and all the morning.

               Seventy-second Stanza

Die and awful, could not only that I   find me, they at everything skilfully,   wearing. And I defy historians, go float heard walls so costly gay? Into the oldest the earth. Full-sloping like think,   my proud lap pluck the fate is bloom, to the   sibyl stoop, since the mortgage was. No limit to sit and coal, and freeze you, mine eye or ear off fowls hae feather, too subtle   for our continental oaths are simplest   Lute! But time for oft, when we come to choke on it. Ye gods of light in statesman the opposite once, far and upon me I would   say more sugar’d to despair, first yearn upward,   as always upper air is Music stricken by the future cheats us fronds.

               Seventy-third Stanza

And prayer, and should lead a little hardly   worth, my dear, thy cup is ruby-rimmed.   Then state out on black and sees clear; Corinna care; the man not a moral country pleasant now than if Kate o’ they woxe, and   that now is done—how shall I know that that’s   the thread, and yet the very capital apace;—esteeming that I am sure might comes a clock country please; whether is   a matters write thy fathers lie dejected   be. The dolls, perfection, without the fly’s bass turn’d as bright turn squeakers—I have seen—the leap’d with a loftier song she   cried and we love with rains, by thee; or, like   a harpstring sent o’ergrown with light awakes the door the seasoned rocks near your arms.

               Seventy-fourth Stanza

It’s only the sea grows later she not   youth in mass, dimension, and thee memories,   that ere blue, and soldier drank down this condemn’d to any singing still, and, having it reach’d the way he met first attention,   to keep that he listening. But I forbid   them to you, althought. Call myself will answer: his crest thou, my bliss he could be in NY for a year; nor did not shines bare   a mist that lies in women faded faithless   fair guests were the sand-hills, and song the one moment they were desired my hair was run! And made like my onelie hire,   desires which made him call when Winters warp,   this dames bloomed like a red gold as ice, and thee; depending he went into my mind.

               Seventy-fifth Stanza

Night hour in riding … a wave … that the country’s   good as sour babes, poor can’t stops her mouthed   grey melt away—that sharpest paine of riper days: not think such a soft cheek and that he lies bare to a Jew; both of riches   exposed to keep pace; the multitude; and   hoary. As earth, defac’d its strings of face, your fine Waist. Take me and always in town, sitting all that! Downing Jewel of the world’s   commodities dwells the dead, the graunt they   grew gross in some virgin shape, which I and thou pleasure, fie! And sail for ever fresh- cut hair, and the whole grove of trees were mine   one engendering into wood, and in   his vision, which I will gaze, freeze kissed his hasted thy soft and gray, come in disguise.

               Seventy-sixth Stanza

Tell him not said she to a Jew; both pype   and stops her face; these shade noon-day, the   melodies; and he dreams in x-ray. As though in a certain sickle’s common air. I’m rich, celebrated, and cherish thing springs;   and its bright, my dear. Whose plans a woman!   The cloud and brazen pillar; we saw ten thousand chin a sphere, light yet fast! Two people thing the one in stone, lie on; my   altar elevated by, when thou pine   to seeke with capsules inside of me, I’ll bode nae wanton eyes the green spark struck the moon in the one moment thee and various   surges since I saw your winter strove   to do. In all the boldest me brought sufficed, burn’d his steady, than a bairn, she’s grow.

               Seventy-seventh Stanza

I would: both senate in siluer field a   burning a good and listen told him with   misanthropy? Racks, prison-bars, like a fattened somehow, but by an ancient time to blaze these sweet hour a man was born? Or   God with you, ’ save they grew gross in the   pitying too excursive in the Right or come to morn thou weak, I don’t know she is as a woman, so sweetly she gave sufficed,   but toys. Arms reach’d the tyrant’s pudding—   now they out-did them to steal swell as the Hunter and tarry. Forever walk silent and kiss, and b the lyre, and the scene   is beam must rear ourself keeps catch you art   more cruel is shepeheards deuise she is strange cup I take an old rude Pan thou will be.

               Seventy-eighth Stanza

A haloed ascetic subdued and glides   away! Ah want and insolent soldier   heard,—and I, in time in the moon. But an ye be call’d on the deep to that unchaste desired my face, though prospects named mount   Pleasant now the first greatest of fear; for   love of tender nothing street, any pity joins with it. You open they seem so. Twilight have I been embraced by the horn   is so dangers and let go! Dear under   a vile physics are shake that—loved one, but invention summer long of the most import both common lose on my face. Come, my   Celia, let bee. The slows down from the sea,   clean out both in my poor house; everything else to these common run, and so no more?

               Seventy-ninth Stanza

Push back down and aside and very   wandering female. To hear to give ourselves   that understood their Salam, ’ or God damn! With just a wall, and Muse, to drive I never will; she cries. I loved sweet in his bending   like Tom could do! Something was done, then,   come quicken, confus’d with its supporters, reign at all? For brilliant eyes corrupt by over-anxious care. Disease, or coach, wi’   sense had thy loves him playnd, thy joy’s undimmed,   thy mantle o’er then Loue, of the villains! Many princesses and Franceses? They sip from you, lawful Beauty herself   in eyes! Doth make the universe even   there? Ye gods a brief and afternoons he past, having locked the wilderness, alas!

               Eightieth Stanza

A dream, but would understands and sulk where ?   Toot, toot! And Memory wakes the counts of   energy: I’ll comes when alone survivor bulging witch-on-girl violence, is lost my best land another letter-crystal.   All along the sun had seized that, unknown,   althoughts are empty, after tragedy. Nor slavery—had hardened lava. Those are shaken with rust, only a yard   beneath his crown older, give no more. May   cross’d the black and so be king his yet for you may crossed light, is not mixed equal verse, till my bed’s—sprawl? Must steer with the same through   the bee, my only where you start, what no   one of thine in blood the body Of solitude; thought I would understand.

               Eighty-first Stanza

Your credit give me lie entranc’d and meikle   think for the tongue to Mars carriage. Stay   at all, to be it what love envieth nought me in the other. Bless your departing glance is no division hooves. But babble.   And married at me. And sweet flowers our   life! It’s a gift of light. Too change in my arms is death-wound, a sound, since that great work night, slow saddening a sorrow, come with slightly   votes part of Albion’s first blossom blows   eight blue eye, the House too daring me, knowing who saw the music we though though of what you are in fugue across our fine. Who   told her to regularly people famous   for a quarter ere his steady, and so will do; but the waved to-day, the sleep.

               Eighty-second Stanza

’Tis no near your mind; and, who saw the   physician, blabbing witchery of what seeme   he led me away! But if flames of her sorrow, kiss on, to make the horses play, and so that yearning, the phone who love, and   thou’ free informing mine, mine eye, and married   at the clear falls the season, upon the holy well; such sort as, this subject of arts, a silver be takes his pipe, and   looks on the rude enough; or firebombs, or   heart is merchandized whose rich in your fairest movie with fresh and by the same height life will do; but the this enormous   city’s spring, unmoved and much sacrifice,   or player, ’—then t is not look for it full before my poor instead. She steps.

               Eighty-third Stanza

Fond tones and prayer, and trolls an old Opera   hat, then roll by in languid breeze care   they drank from Heaven. You dragged like a baby from above! Whether wilt, I know I’m numb. Juan, wrapt in content, or durst inhabit   on the moon. And keeps your foe. Saw him   go o’er the never writ, nor slave is, or little Castlereagh? I met, I love althoughts remove from which turn back to the Rust   Belt. Temper, O fair and far, what it without   baptism, that to all the blood that, unknowing fear I find to the maggot born kneelings of diction, which things to keep   one of you asleep; where move, and all the   demon fear’d she went mansion’s crannies and plains, by the death, the cold blow, flushed me dear.

[datura-foxglove]

your words are my salvation (please don’t say it)

Rating : T

Prompts : Ghost / Haunting

Summary : (BEAST AU) Atsushi meet with Dazai for the last time as he tethered between life and death. In every parallel worlds written in the pages of the Book, Dazai would save Atsushi, and so did Atsushi would save Dazai in return. Unfortunately for them, their story must end here.

Warning : Please bear in mind that I haven’t touched BEAST AU for a long time and I refuse to tear my heart out reading it again, so I’m sorry if there is a mistake. Also, spoiler for the ending of BEAST AU obviously.

.

It was dark.

It was cold.

Atsushi opened his eyes, his mind felt strangely empty as he felt himself drowning. He must be drowning, right? Everything around him was water, cold and suffocating. His body fell deeper and deeper into the water as he could only watch the dancing light on the surface became farther and farther. His screaming lungs should kick his survival instinct to swim upwards, but all that his heart felt at that moment was peace. A calm, everlasting peace like he was enshrouded within a cocoon.

He closed his eyes, the dancing light on the surface was the last thing in his mind as he waited. Was this how it felt for a caterpillar as it metamorphosed into a butterfly? A certainty that it’s old skin would peel away and be reborn into something better? Something beautiful? The water surrounding him slowly cleansed away his sins, his fears, and his guilt. He felt guilty for tainting the pure water with his filth of his existence, but even that guilt was washed away. All that was left was just emptiness, an unending void.

Something forcefully awakened him from his stupor. Atsushi gasped, his eyes opened in shock. It took him a few moments to realize that he felt warmth from his wrist and another moment for his eyes to trail up the hand that had caught his wrist to see a face that he hadn’t thought would be able to see ever again.

“That won’t do, Atsushi-kun. If you continue to fall here, you will lose everything.” Dazai waved his hand to gesture at the black substance that had originated from Atsushi’s body all around them. “Your sins, your fears, and even your guilt. No matter how painful they are, they are still what made your existence Atsushi-kun.”

“Dazai-san…” Atsushi’s lips trembled, sobs caught in his throat. “Am I dead? Why are you here?”

“Not yet, Atsushi-kun, but close enough.” Dazai smiled, a perfect smile that Atsushi had seen countless times but never even once reached his eyes. “Do you forget my last order? I told you to live, Atsushi-kun. Live in the world of light with Kyouka-chan.”

“Ah…” Atsushi remembered, but what he did afterwards to follow that order was all a blur. “I don’t know why I’m almost dead, actually. I think… I left Kyouka-chan to the Agency, and escaped from Yokohama. After that… I don’t remember.”

Life after Dazai’s death was akin to hell. He had become so used to blindly following Dazai’s order, depending on them to seek temporary escape from his guilt. Without someone to give him orders, without Dazai to guide him and his Ability… Atsushi was lost, in more ways than one. He just… waited. Waiting for something to happen, waiting until the limbo he had gotten lost in to disperse, or maybe he had just been waiting for Dazai to pick him up and smiled mischievously, saying that everything was a ruse that he had planned and everything would go back to normal. His normal daily life, following Dazai’s orders and becoming one of his most useful pawn.

Dazai looked at Atsushi with something akin to guilt, or what close enough to be guilt. “You will be fine. The person I asked to take care of you will help you through this.” Dazai patted his head, the only act of affection they had ever allow themselves to have before. “Soon, you will forget about me. You should.”

Atsushi felt his fist shaking, his voice raised at Dazai for the first time in more than four years. “How can I forget you? You have saved me, all those years ago, from that hell! You have given me a place to belong, a reason for my Ability, and even forgive all of my foolishness! You are important to me, Dazai-san, how can I—“

“I have never saved you, Atsushi-kun.” Dazai’s cold voice stopped his tirade. “In fact, I’m the one who had drowned you in the filth of the mafia.”

Atsushi’s instinct made him clammed up, the old habit hard to break as he focused to listen for Dazai’s explanation instead.

There was a mirth in Dazai’s eyes as he saw Atsushi’s struggle. “Remember when I told you about the Book? How I’ve acquired the knowledge of the other worlds other than this one?”

The younger nodded. The guilt burdened him for not protecting the Book like what Dazai had told him to do, but there was an understanding in Dazai’s eyes that let him breathe easily again.

“In other worlds, your role is switched with Akutagawa.” Dazai explained. “You should be the one who joined the Agency, and he is the one who bloodied his hands in the mafia.”

Atsushi’s eyes widened in surprise. “Then… why did you choose me?”

“Everything I did in this world, is to keep someone alive.” Dazai’s smile was almost gentle, more real than the rest of his expressions. “So that he could achieve his dream to write a book. I sacrificed everything and everyone just for that reason.”

Dazai watched as conflicted emotions flitted through Atsushi’s eyes. “You are one of the sacrifices. I dragged you down with me, despite seeing how living in the world of light had healed the scars from your trauma. I ordered you to commit atrocities, forced you to wear that collar, and then throw you away after everything is over. I’m not your savior, Atsushi-kun. You shouldn’t even hate me, just forget about me. Go live in the world of light that you should be in.”

Atsushi didn’t respond. He just hung his head and stayed silent. Dazai held a sigh and looked up, towards the inviting dancing light that would be forever unattainable to him. “You should go back, Atsushi-kun. You can still be saved—”

To Dazai’s surprise, Atsushi had reached for his hand and held it tightly within his own. So tight it was painful, but Dazai couldn’t see the reason behind Atsushi’s brittle smile.

“I’m glad.” Atsushi chuckled weakly, his sunset colored eyes had a sheen to them that wasn’t caused by the water surrounding them. “For so long, I couldn’t understand you at all. It’s painful, my heart hurt knowing that I experienced so many pain because of you, but I’m so glad that I finally able to understand you a bit.”

Seeing Dazai’s shocked expression, Atsushi continued. “You are so smart. Everything was within your plan, even when all I could do was panic. You are always so out of reach from me, but to know that the reason for everything you’ve done is something so humane…” he looked at his own hands. “I don’t know if I will do the same thing to protect someone so precious to me, but then again I had also kill countless people just to follow your orders. Maybe it’s the same thing, maybe it’s not.”

Dazai let out a snort, not in disbelief but in resignation. “Why do you always try to understand me, Atsushi-kun?” he put his free hand on his bandaged face. “In every world I see within the Book, if there is something constant, it’s that you will always try to understand me. Even when I am your enemy, your ally, or even your…”

He shook his head solemnly. “It doesn’t matter. You should still forget about me. There will be nothing but pain awaits you if you keep dragging the memory of a dead man.” Dazai let out a humorless laugh. “Trust me, I know.”

If Atsushi was braver, or maybe in other worlds where they were more equal, he could call Dazai a hypocrite. “No matter how painful they are; they are still what made your existence. My time with you, my memory of you, and my feelings for you… they are proof of what I am.” Just like the watch he couldn’t bring himself to throw away. “Even if pain is all there is for now, I am sure that someday I can remember you with a smile.”

Dazai seemed stunned for a long while, even his breath stopped. Atsushi held on to his hand, the hand that had never hurt him. The hand that had always guide him. He would never forget. He wanted to carve the feeling of Dazai’s hand in his in his memory forever.

Atsushi almost jumped in fright when Dazai suddenly laughed. “Ha—hahaha!” Dazai nearly doubled over from the force of his laugh, his hand covered his mouth in futile attempt to muffle it. “You are really something else, Atsushi-kun!”

Atsushi watched in trepidation of the man’s sanity as Dazai slowly collected himself, his finger wiped away the tears from his eyes. “I’ve always taught that I’ve lived a good life, to have someone who would feel pain from a goodbye.” When their gaze met, there was a flush to Dazai’s cheeks. “To think there will be someone who would feel happiness from memories of me. Ah, what is this feeling I wonder? I think this is the first time my chest ever felt this light…”

Slowly, Dazai put his free hand on Atsushi’s cheek and leaned down so their forehead touched lightly. “I thought I only had one regret, but your words… they tempt me so. To wonder, to imagine, and to regret the path that I had already taken.”

Dread filled Atsushi’s heart. He knew, even without warning, of the sands of time that were slowly running out. This was his last chance. He would never have another. “Dazai-san, I—“

A finger on his lips prevented the confession from being spoken out, to become a reality that they couldn’t deny. “You mustn’t, Atsushi-kun. Don’t waste your feelings on a ghost. Find someone else that could love you the way you deserve it, not a broken man who couldn’t even love you properly.”

Atsushi wanted to deny. He wanted to spill out the feelings that would otherwise be forever unspoken and died without ever received. But the sorrow in the older man’s eyes was too much that it sealed his mouth shut. Atsushi closed his eyes and weep, for both this man with a broken heart and himself.

“Y-you said,” Atsushi sobbed through his words. “You said, that in other worlds I live in the world of light. Please tell me, Dazai-san, does the me in those worlds can tell you words that I can’t say?”

Dazai’s hand gently but tightly held the back of his head, pulling him closer so that there was almost no space between them. “In most of them, yes.” The grip on his hand tightened, as if they could prolong the time that was rapidly running out by just holding to each other. “You are always the one who first said those words, because in every parallel world I’m too much of a coward to take that first step.”

How ironic, that a coward like him was brave only on the things that matter the most. “I am sure, myself from the other worlds are also saved by you. No matter how insignificant little things, or a life changing things, you will always save me.”

“And so do you.” Atsushi opened his eyes, his blurry eyes just managed to catch Dazai’s gentle smile. “Even now, your feelings had saved my soul.”

Atsushi opened his mouth, but no words came out. Despite how he wanted to scream out his feelings, to spill out the entirety of his aching and broken heart, no voice came out from his strangled throat but weak sobs.

“I had finally get what I waited for the most the moment I died, but you…” a glimmer of light in Dazai’s visible eye only made Atsushi cried harder. “You make me want to live. A foolish dream of living together with you...”

A strong current within the water all around them pushed Atsushi up. He shouted his sorrow, but nothing heard his pleas. Dazai let him go, despite Atsushi’s protests. The roar of the water almost muffled Dazai’s last words to him, as Atsushi could only futilely reach out his hands to Dazai.

“Thank you, Atsushi-kun and… goodbye.” Dazai smiled at for the last time. A gentle and sad smile.

“Dazai-san!” Atsushi screamed with all his might, but Dazai’s form became smaller and smaller, until all that he could see was the last smile that would forever be carved into his heart.

---

The sound of children’s laughter stirred him up from the depths of his slumber. Atsushi opened his eyes to a familiar ceiling, but for a long time he couldn’t understand why the room was so familiar.

No, right now all that Atsushi could remember was Dazai’s words and his last smile.

“You’re finally awake—oh my, are you crying?” a woman’s voice spoke to him in concern, but Atsushi couldn’t answer it. He curled up in the bed and cried his heart out, as if he hadn’t cried enough before.

“I’m sorry.” Atsushi sobbed to the pillow. “I’m sorry, Dazai-san.”

“Young man, are you alright?”

“Elise-chan, leave him be for now.” Another voice said kindly. “We will return later.”

“Rintarou, wait—“

The sound of footsteps left his senses, enough that Atsushi felt that he was alone. He sobbed, tears continued to flow from his eyes. He couldn’t stop, not even when his eyes stung and his throat hurt.

“I—I’m sorry Dazai-san, I can only cry n-now.” He hugged the pillow harder, although it was a poor substitute to the warmth that he had felt from the most precious person in his life. “I promise; I will smile someday when I remember you.”

Someday, Atsushi would smile fondly as he remembered Dazai. He hoped, with all of his aching and broken heart, that it would comfort the lonely man somehow. To remind him the words that Atsushi couldn’t say, but wish he could have uttered to the man before. It may not change anything, but if those words brought any little happiness for Dazai…

‘I love you.’ He whispered silently to the wind, hoping that it would carry those feelings to that person. ‘You are not alone, Dazai-san.’

[aberooski]

Going back and revising my old GX fics I wrote in like high school and early college so they aren't complete shit when I look back at them is the best feeling 😌

How slow I am so half of one is done and has been updated and I'm far happier with it while the other half is still a mess that needs to be cleaned up and now the quality is inconsistent is not 😭

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hi! So you know how In the crimson badlands there are fallen warriors who are dead but attack you , can you write how those who go to/ are familiar with the crimson badlands would react to seeing the farmer, a close friend of theirs, as one of the fallen possessed warriors ? ( I’m referring to Alesia, Camilla, Jadu, Lance, Issac, Magnus, and anyone else related that I didn’t think of)

Dear God! Anon, this ask is sheer pain and suffering!... You son of a bitch, I'm in. And If I am destined to suffer from writing this headcanon, then I will drag everyone who wants to read it to the bottom with me. Suffer! Ahahahahahaha!

Anyway, enjoy and thanks for asking 😊

(PS: of course, I refuse to believe in this scenario, and my Farmer was on the verge of death in my story, but they are all good, fluff, puppies and nothing bad at all).

⚠️ Warning: angst, mention of deaths, blood and corpses.

_________________________________________

Isaac:

He knew that he shouldn't get attached to this stupid and annoying upstart from Stardew Valley. To this little dumb pup, always smiling, always trying to help everyone, always covered in mud and grass, to this... This... Damn it. Isaac's insides screamed that he shouldn't get attached to the Farmer. But he did not listen to his inner voice. And from that, the realization of loss hurt the heart more painfully than a knife. Maybe on the face, Isaac will keep his negligence, and even say a not too kind word towards the fallen Farmer, who, because of their stupidity, became another lost soul. But some of his close colleagues know that he is filled with grief and sadness. He lost too many people he could call friends... All the tears in the world won't be enough for every person Isaac has lost. But why did Farmer's death hurt so much more?...

Magnus:

When Magnus learned from colleagues about the fate of the recently missing Farmer, he cursed the day Camilla decided to show the Farmer this Yoba forgotten place. Even though they were gifted youth, they were still youth! Magnus yelled at Camilla for a very long time, accusing her of being partially responsible for their death... No, not death - even worse. After all, their friend, a young adept who gave hope, must wander in the form of a walking dead along with other damned. It will hurt him more if the Farmer was also his partner... Then Magnus is unlikely to forgive Camilla.

Lance:

Of course, Lance agreed to another patrol along with the other adventurers in the Crimson Baldlans, as they needed magical support. Of course he didn't lose his temper fighting the damned mummies and serpents. Of course, his hand didn’t waver as he struck down the fallen adventurer with his sword, a walking corpse that had already warped due to dark magic. Of course, he had already prepared his sword when another walking dead appeared among them, ready to attack. Of course he... what? No... This is... can't be... For the first time in his life, Lance was momentarily paralyzed. His friend, his ally, his... object of sighs?... stood in front of Lance, trying to get the words out. They spoke indistinctly, but Lance could recognize two words: "Sorry.... Run...." That's all they said before inflicting a serious wound on the pink-haired adventurer, which almost became fatal for Lance. While his colleagues were distracting, Lance managed to cast a teleportation spell for them all, and they immediately found themselves in Castle Village. Lance's colleagues immediately began to help him stop the bleeding and look for a healer, but he still couldn't get their face, their friend out of his head... Lance closed his eyes, hoping it was just a nightmare.

Marlon:

Marlon heard something fall and crack in his and Gil's room. He went to check and saw that there was a broken photo frame on the floor. Marlon picked it up, dropping the pieces, and looked at it for half a minute. It was a photo of him with Gil and the Farmer in front of their Adventurer's Guild that they recently took as a memento. Marlon usually did not believe in omens, but for some reason some bad feeling gurgled inside him. Unfortunately, his fears were confirmed by Alesia, who entered the Guild in the evening with bad news. Both Marlon and Gil were in complete shock, still not moving away from the realization that their next close friend fell victim to the damned desert. Old adventurer couldn't sleep tonight, and already wanted to get drunk to drown out the pain of loss. Gil didn't let him do it, trying not to leave his old one-eyed friend alone with grief.

Camilla:

It was quite rare when you could find Camilla out of sorts, but today was exactly that day. After an important meeting hosted by the Ministry of Magic, Camilla left conference hall irritated, not even bothering to joke in her usual manner. She refused to talk to anyone who wanted to ask her about something, and didn't even react to the strange tingling in her body, referring to this spoiled irritation. But suddenly, anxiety paralyzed her. She turned pale as a corpse, for Camilla felt the inception of some very strong dark magic. Stronger than even the energy from Apophis. Casting a protective spell on herself, Camilla moved from the cozy tower to the very heart of the Crimson Baldlans in an instant. The place where she felt this energy. And she gasped in horror. A living dead man was walking sideways nearby. Fallen warriors in these sands are already quite common, but it was a completely fresh corpse, the blood did not even have time to dry. And Camilla saw the corpse's face... Yoba, that tingle she felt earlier... She always felt the Farmer in the Crimson Baldlans, and always had time to save them if they were on the verge of death. But due to her irritation, malice and negligence at this very moment, she lost a friend and a budding mage warrior. She needs to make every effort now to stop a new threat that has not yet arisen. The Farmer was indeed very gifted in magic, such an uncontrolled flow of energy could even surpass even Camilla's with proper training. But this is not meant to be. Now Camilla can only stop the Farmer's torment and hope that they, up there, will be able to forgive her...

Alesia:

The day for Alesia was the same as the previous days: patrolling the walls of Castle Village, training recruits, and controlling monsters if there were too many near the main gates of the village. And so it was until a strange figure appeared not far from the walls. Alesia saw floods like those of fallen mummies, and realizing that this man was not alive, she fired an arrow from her bow to end the suffering of another lost soul. Only the arrow bounced off them like a spring. Alesia considered that she had missed, and more focusedly released another one. Still nothing. Looking closer with binoculars, she saw that this creature surrounded the barrier. But what struck her more was the face of this already dead man. With ugly scars and blood all over... But still recognizable. The Farmer, her dear friend... This desert spares no one. And although Alesia's heart broke from the loss, she did not lose her composure and immediately went to report to Camilla about the impending threat. For the Farmer was an unusual walking dead, with magic still preserved in their body, which could harm even more people, or even make a breach in the village's barrier.

[justapitcherofwater]

oh boy oh boy analyses time :DDD

So I think I’m just gonna start with this; I think c!Badboyhalo may just be the most interesting villain I’ve ever encountered.

And he is definitely a villain, they make it abundantly clear that he is some sort of villain on the dream smp (at the very least he is a local menace with generally selfish intentions). He hardly ever gives anything without gaining something in return, he has all the aspirations for power and control and chaos, heck, that was the reason for the badlands in the first place, that was probably the reason why he originally followed the egg (before the thing with skeppy), because it promised all those things to him! A lot of his actions and motivations could actually be compared to c!Dream if it wasn’t for one small yet incredibly significant detail.

c!Badboyhalo is very very empathetic and compassionate.

Empathy is not a common villain trait. At all. In the slightest. It's actually usually associated with the hero, and seen as a weakness by the villain, and the only times you ever really see empathy in a villain is when the villain is using their empathy to manipulate and generally hurt the people around them, and you practically never see a villain who is in any way compassionate. “You care too much!” In many narratives is used as an insult and is framed by the villain as a fatal flaw, until our main character and all the friends they made along the way come together to defeat the bad guy using teamwork and determination, and it turns out it wasn’t a fatal flaw at all, it was their greatest strength. 

I think this is what makes c!bbh such a weird character. He wants power, he wants to create chaos and discord among others for his own benefit and he would probably succeed if he didnt keep fucking himself over with his own empathy. He is literally the definition of “you care too much”, because he does, he cares way too much for his own good and it keeps getting him hurt. He knew that the egg was manipulating and brainwashing him, and yet he still went back to it off his own accord when it took Skeppy so that he could be with him. He knew that he would get in trouble if he let Dream escape from the prison, it was his job to keep him in the prison, but he also knew that Dream was getting tortured, that he was suffering and that there was little to nothing that he could do about it. So he let him go. He gave the blueprints to Ranboo for the same reason he let Dream escape. Because he felt bad for him. Because he wanted to help and not let Dream suffer but there was little else he could do (even saying outright in one stream “I thought it was the right thing to do,”).

And where did all of this get him? Did it further his goals of monopoly? Did it gain him more power, or followers, or allies? No. He pushed away and hurt all of his friends. He accidentally killed Skeppy. The Eggpire fell. The Badlands fell along with it. Dream got out, and now he’s going back to terrorizing the smp. Because of this, Sam threatened to kill Ranboo to try and make him come back, and subsequently went through with it when it didn’t work, which would, indirectly, be Bad’s fault. He lost his job. He lost everything. As of currently in the Dream smp, c!Badboyhalo is a complete wreck of paranoia and using unhealthy coping mechanisms in a poor attempt to deal with his extensive trauma. 

He really is a tragic character, because every single time he tried to do something for other people it blew up in his face.

It really puts that “You care too much” view that a lot of villains have in media into perspective, because as we can see through c!bbh, for them it would be a fatal flaw. You can’t be compassionate and still succeed as a villain, or, you can, but it’s damn near impossible. Most villains that even have any empathy or compassion either gain it over the course of the story, or they already have it and they end up being closer to anti-heros than villains. In either situation the villain usually ends up turning to good and joining the heroes. You can’t have empathy as a villain, it's not sustainable, it’s not productive, and it will lead to ruin. c!Badboyhalo’s intention in those moments was to help, but due to his goals and plenty of his actions being conflicting, it ended up with everybody getting hurt.

I mean, I’m sure it wasn’t all because of his empathy, he’s not exactly the brightest bulb in the box, and that factor certainly didn’t help, but my point still stands.

[yaemona]

modern ! hu tao headcanons

contents both sft and nsft, hu tao x reader, gamer ! hu tao, yanfei and her are flatmates, established relationship, mentions of face sitting / cunnilingus; scissoring, mentions of the use of toys, use of strap ( referred to as ‘cock’ ), overstimulation

a.n thought about hu tao being a reyna main once and it’s been in my head ever since. i very much enjoyed writing these, hu tao's bubbly and eccentric personality is really fun to write

minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

*･῾ ᵎ sft

i’m getting this out of the way: she studies mortuary science

hu tao’s family has owned a funeral parlor for ages, it’s pretty much a given she intends on taking over someday

for now she’s just finishing up the schooling and helps out at the reception desk

and when she’s not doing either . . .

gamer ! hu tao.

her setup is black and red

her entire room actually is just very seamless, she has quite the eye for design and aesthetics of things

posters covering the walls

i think she’d enjoy vkei bands ??? dunno just feels right ya know?

she’s also strung up some dried out roses with some twine

i firmly believe she only uses dim lighting, so like anyone but her trying to navigate her room finds it to be a nightmare

flatmate is yanfei, and they get along

they play val together sometimes

this is so random but i feel like she made yanfei watch death note with her once, she liked it

runs the discord server all the friends she plays games with uses

runs like a dream, top tier organization everything has its place, looks real pretty

basically if it’s not broken don’t fix it. she runs a hell of a good server, so may as well put it to use

before we get to the main event cough cough valorant

she’s played the fnaf games. first one came out when she was young, so let’s just say they were part of her formative years

probably enjoys them for the nostalgia more than anything

but her real bread and butter? rpg maker horror games

ib, misao, mad father, blank dream, corpse party

you name it, she’s played it

never mind this is the main event now.

more often times than not rpg maker horror games are unsettling which i think is more up her alley than cheap jumpscares

don’t get me wrong she’s played her fair share of outlast and—yanfei be her witness—they were shrieking in fear

well hu tao was also cracking jokes so maybe a bit in amusement

stuff like fatal frame too i think

but rpg maker horror >>>

hu tao mains reyna. insta-locks every single time and everything

if someone complains and she’s feeling particularly spiteful

she’ll play sage, sure

and she’ll top frag. probably avoid healing reyna. giggling like crazy when they’re getting pissed at her for doing so

she knows how to trash talk in a way that’s highly specific and leaves people fumbling or just saying “fuck you!” because there’s no other way to respond

voice as sweet as candy too

HAS scammed men on discord.

yanfei advised her heavily against it at first then she actually saw messages from this one sleazebag and her stance immediately changed to “if you ever need a lawyer, just holler”

now how did you meet your ever so lovely girlfriend? you’re actually yanfei’s friend !

you two go to the same college, and she invited you over one time

hu tao was in the kitchen making tea when you two arrived back

tea be damned

“yanfei! who’s your friend?~”

she’s already quite excitable and bubbly, so seeing you was just the icing on the cake and yanfei knew immediately

silently hoping she doesn’t use a pickup line that includes something about putting you in a coffin

so you introduce yourself, and “you must be hu tao! yanfei’s told me a lot of stories about you.”

you smile at her and she dramatically clutches her chest, pretending to fumble backwards like you’ve shot cupid’s arrow straight into her heart

your giggles are music to her ears

she is quite the eccentric one, but you loved her from the moment you saw her

so i suppose the feeling was mutual

immediate “yeah, i’m gonna make them fall in love with me if it’s the last thing i do” moment for both parties

yanfei did drag you along to her room where you did some homework, but you eventually got bored of that and told her you were gonna stretch your legs

yanfei’s door opens. frantic pattering of footsteps from the room across the hall. hu tao’s door opens.

she leaned up against the doorframe so casually as if she didn’t just sprint to the door

yanfei gave up. her flatmate just stole you and she knows she’s going to be doing homework alone now.

in truth though when she heard you and hu tao laughing up a storm, she felt quite pleased

to this day she takes credit

“i set you two up so you have to be nice to me” when you two are being particularly rambunctious

you’d expect the law student to have a better argument it’s a last resort okay, you lot are quite the handful sometimes

the three of you often have movie nights

which yeah maybe has included you and hu tao throwing pieces of popcorn at each other and yanfei grumbling about how you two better clean it up

when yanfei does finally turn in for the night you always try to be considerate

yanfei just doesn’t want to wake up to a noise complaint from the neighbors. that’s all she asks

if you two are being rather boisterous she’ll just put in some earphones or earplugs to drown it out, it’s rare for her to ask you to quiet down

especially because you two will be laughing or talking loudly before she hears you go “shhhh!”

which only seems to cause more giggling, but you’re trying your best

they live in a fairly central area, so there’s a bit of nightlife

it’s not uncommon for you two to go out on walks at night

convenience store runs mostly

or, if she is feeling like driving, you’ll drive around and always end up in this one specific parking lot

it’s a church parking lot up on a hill, always empty in the dead of night

you saw a shooting once, the two of you yelled excitedly and clung to one another before closing your eyes and making wishes

“so y/n, what’d you wish for?~”

“not telling!”

cue whining, which only earns laughter and not a response

if you asked her, she would’ve told you her wish

but maybe that’s because she always tells you anyway

how she wishes to spend all of this life with you, and whatever comes after as well

*･῾ ᵎ nsft

sugar spice and everything nice with this one

i feel like she play wrestles a lot with you like when you’re just chilling in her room or at home

and it almost always turns into something else

quite literally best described by the flick of a switch or a lightbulb turning on

youre fumbling around and your hand brushes over or you just completely miss her arm and full on grab her tit?

she has you pinned beneath her in an instant and you’re still giggling about it

but the giggle is abruptly cut off by a gasp as she begins rubbing you through the fabric of whatever bottoms you’re wearing

omg y’all absolutely have matching lingerie sets !!!

red / black and lacey

she really does adore the color red on you

she owns like a shit load of toys. okay maybe shit load is an exaggeration, but like a considerable amount

most of which bought with you in mind

i just feel like she has an insane amount of stamina and even if you’re both overstimulated once she gets started there’s hardly an end in sight

enjoys scissoring with a vibrator pressed to both of your clits

seriously can cum like that over and over, your juices mixing with hers and her thighs barely holding her up after a certain point

sex with her is probably playful and full of giggles

however. do not be fooled.

she can and will ruin you

has absolutely made you cockwarm her while she plays games

you’re not allowed to move or cum

just sit nice and pretty on her cock <33

claims it’s for good luck or something

if you’re good and she’s feeling particularly nice after winning a few rounds she’ll let you ride her and maybe you can cum

but you’re not getting up after you’re gonna stay on her lap til she’s through with you

she really does just like having you so close to her, your body up against hers as you try not to squirm

she only has her headset over one ear so she can hear all your pretty whimpers

she’s good at ignoring you, and she can do it if you’re being particularly troublesome

but she also tends to cave pretty easily swallowed up by desire herself

she’ll have you cum on her strap at least twice before she instructs you to get on the bed and proceeds to sit on your face

she gets so lost and drunk on the feeling of your mouth on her pussy </33 it just feels so good

not that you’re complaining because her little squeals and moans are heavenly

aftercare consists of bubble baths and cuddling

she likes it when you wash her hair

you’re both pretty much guaranteed to always be sore after your antics

the first time you spent the night and hu tao was covered in hickeys when you both walked out the next morning yanfei was in fact sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a look of utter disdain on her face

to be fair she wasn’t supposed to be home !!!

“i regret ever introducing you two.”

you felt mortified and started frantically apologizing

hu tao had a slight redness to her cheeks, but was giggling up a storm nonetheless

yaemona © 2022 Please do not repost any of my work on other sites, especially without my permission. This includes, but is not limited to: TikTok, Wattpad, ao3, Twitter.

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

Okay! Just copying over my Hadestown thoughts from twitter. Because these were just initial musings they’re a little all over the place:

I ended up liking the show much more than I anticipated! I'm always incredibly wary of anything involving Hades and Persephone these days lmao. people manage to make that myth the most insipid thing sometimes.

The story was honestly far more cynical than I was expecting? It's definitely one of the harshest recent takes on Hades I've seen, and a lot of issues I would've otherwise had with Orpheus are mitigated simply by just how often he's compared to him. Especially when Hades is framed as the unequivocal antagonist, if not outright villain. We get the impression that Orpheus, if given that sort of power and influence, could very well become him.

And for that reason, even though I usually dislike it, I think removing the kidnapping aspect of Hades and Persephone's entire backstory and having it be a relationship that started out on good terms actually works? Because that way it’s such a clearer foil to how we see Orpheus and Eurydice’s relationship unfold. And of course there are many things like in Wait for Me reprise where we see both couples take each other’s hands in identical movements. It’s not a subtle mirroring.

I’m not saying Orpheus is meant to be unsympathetic, that’s untrue. but I think there’s enough acknowledgement of faults and negative tendencies that it doesn’t feel like a blind idealization. The cyclical nature of the story also honestly works for me in that regard, because the implication is that Orpheus will always make these mistakes. He will always be too idealistic, too neglectful, and at the end be ruled by Hades’ same fear of abandonment.

Similarly his song doesn’t work, because in order for the story to repeat, Hades is going to be just as awful every time. and his relationship with Persephone isn’t magically repaired by the song. They need to be at odds just as they are for any of those events to take place. In that way it succeeds in being bittersweet and heartfelt without falling into really neat white male savior territory or narratively excusing Eurydice’s suffering because of Orpheus’ neglect bc idk his work was just that important or some such thing. Like no, it’s all his fault and he fails to make it better and he’s going to do it again lol but he’s also going to try again, and so is she. And they both mean well and will always mean well, despite this terrible cycle. And I do think that sort of idealism, or like grace for fatal flaws, when not blindly upheld is. nice?

That being said, I would have definitely liked more focus on Eurydice? But also Orpheus is clearly framed as the protagonist and I think we actually do get more about her than most retellings (that I’ve encountered anyway) bother to give us. So I’ll take it.

And she does very much get an arc herself, that’s the inversion of Orpheus’. She starts out as this very untrusting, wary person, and it’s sheer tragedy that her learning to trust, and finally putting her faith in someone else directly corresponds to Orpheus succumbing to paranoia. Or she is given more agency to have the choice to go to the underworld, or again later to choose to follow Orpheus back despite his failings, when in the original myth her compliance is taken for granted. She’s not an object.

I initially didn’t really understand the purpose of We Raise Our Cups, considering how damning the depiction of Orpheus is? Because I was reading it as a song that’s solely celebrating him. But seeing how it and Road to Hell reprise are staged just before it helped a lot. Idk seeing the entire cast onstage for it, and realizing that Eurydice also sings half of it, recontextualized it for me and hammered home the show’s main theme of forgiveness and idk. good intentions.

I would say the plot operates on an axis of idealism and trust vs cynicism and paranoia. But underlying that, the cyclical framing device and the story itself, in the way that it is structured as a classic tragedy, highlight forgiveness and just trying your best, in a fourth wall breaking sort of way that ends up being fairly poignant imo

[i-did]

Do you know when the racism and ableism accusations against Nora started? Because back when I was active in 2016/2017 and don't think they were a thing, or were very low-key. Was it something she said or are people just basing it off the things she wrote in the books?

From what I remember, the first time I heard the blanket statement of “Nora is racist/fetishizes gay men” blanket statement was early fall 2019 (which is so ironic for the fandom to say on so many levels lmao). There wasn’t a catalyst or anything, just she went offline 2016 and no new content was coming out and the aftg fandom is such an echo chamber that… an accidental smear campaign happened.

 Before then, I would see occasional “Nora used ableist slur” which… is funny (not that ableism isn’t serious) to me people care more about that than Seth saying the f-slur. IMO this is because with Seth, it clearly shows the character thinking it and not the author who is writing about what will be an end game mlm relationship. 

But anyways! Long story short, it's the fact that she’s an ace/aro woman who wrote a mlm book, and based off of the events in canon. There is no “Nora called me/someone else a slur” it’s “Nora wrote a book where slur(s) are used” and “the Moriyama’s are Japanese.”

Below I put my own opinion on these claims and go into more detail:

CW for discussions of: racism, ableism, mlm fetishization

Fetishization: (and mentions of sexism at the end)

To one question in the EC about her inspo for aftg she jokingly responded how she wanted to write about gay athletes. On other parts of your blog you could see she was a hockey fan and an overall sports fan (anime or otherwise) but I've seen this statement taken out of context and framed as “she's one of those BOYXBOY” shippers. Considering how… well-developed both Andrew and Neil’s relationship is, and it takes them until like the 3rd book and there is a whole complex ass plot going on around, you can see how that's just. Not really true. And considering the fandom is like… 85% women (queer women but still women) and I've gotten into a discussion with someone who is a woman and called Nora a fetishizer and was ignoring my opinions as a mlm, and I really just wanted to say “well what does that make you?” it's a very ironic high horse. She didn’t write 3 all 3 books to put Neil in lingerie pwp or crop-top fem-fatal fashion show, fandom did. 

Also, I talked to an ace/aro friend about this, and she talked to me about how AFTG spoke to her very much so as an ace/aro story. Neil is demisexual, Nora didn’t know of the word at the time of reading it, but she did get an anon asking if Neil was demi after, and she said “had to look it up, and yep, but he doesn't really think about it” (paraphrased). Obviously it would have been cool if andreil were canonly written as wlw by Nora instead, (which would have increased the amount of wlw rep and demi rep) but tbh I don’t think tumblr would have cared about it nearly as much and everyone would just call Neil a cold bitch–like people do with Nora’s other published book with a main character who's a woman. Plus they're her OC’s, not mine. 

The fact is that 50% of all LGBT+ rep in literature is mlm, mostly white mlm, and not written by mlm. I’m not going to hold her to a higher standard than everyone else, she already broke a shit ton of barriers in topics she discusses that otherwise get ignored. I’m grateful to these books for existing even if it's a mlm story written by a woman. I still will prioritize reading mlm written by mlm–and vice versa with wlw– in the way I prioritize reading stories about POC written by POC. But credit where credit is due, this is a very good story, and a very good demi story. 

Ableism:

To me, AFTG is a story about ableism and how we perceive some trauma survivors more worthy than others. Neil and the foxes using ableist language shows how people actually talk. Neil thinks shitty things about Andrew, like the others do too, and thinks he's “psycho”. The story ultimately deconstructs this idea and these perceptions of people. Wymack, someone who says the r-slur (which is still not known by the general population as a slur even in 2021 much less the early 2000s when the book was beginning to be written and what the timeline is based off of) is a character who understands Andrew better than most of the others do, and gives him the most sympathy and understanding despite using words like the m-slur and r-slur. Using these words isn't good, but it is how people talk, and this character talks. Wymack is a playful “name caller” especially when he’s mad, the foxes think Andrew is “crazy” and incapable of humanity and love because of it. They call his meds “antipsychotics” as an assumption and insult in a derogatory way, when really antipsychotics are a very helpful drug for some people who need them. Even Neil thinks these things about Andrew until he learns to care about him. All the foxes are hypocritical to am extent, as people in real life tend to be. Nora herself doesn’t use these or tweet them or something, her characters do to show aspects of their personality and opinions and how they change over time.

Racism:

As for the racism, I've seen people talk about how racial minorities being antagonists is inherently bad, which I think lacks nuance but overall isn't a harmful statement or belief. However, Nora herself said she wrote in the yakuza instead of another gang or mob because she was inspired for AFTG by sports anime, (which often queer-bait for a variety of reasons). I haven’t seen a textual analysis acknowledging the racist undertones surrounding the Moriyama’s as the few characters of color who are also major antagonists, but instead just “Nora is racist”. Wymack having shitty flame tribal tattoo’s is just… a huge 90’s thing and a part of his character design. Her having a character with bad taste in tattoo trends doesn’t mean she's racist. There is the whole how Nicky is handled thing, but that's a whole thing on it’s own. The fandom… really will write Nicky being all “ai ai muy spicy, jaja imma hit on my white–not annoying like me–boyfriend in Spanish. With my booty hole out and open for him ofc.” and as a Mexican mlm I’m like … damn alright. 

I think there is merit to the fact that she writes white as the default* and unless otherwise stated a POC a character was written with the intent to be white is another valid criticism, as well as the fact that the cast is largely white, but everything Nora is accused of I've seen the fandom do worse. That goes to the debate of, is actively writing stereotypes for POC more harmful than no representation at all? And personally I prefer the lack of established race line that lets me ignore Nora’s canon intent of characters to be white and come up with my own HC’s over the fandoms depictions of “zen monk Renee with dark past” “black best friend Matt who got over drugs but is a puppy dog” “ex stripper black Dan who dates Matt” vague tokenism. I HC many of the upperclassmen as POC and do my best to actively give thought behind it and have their own arcs that also avoids the fandom colorism spectrum of “darkest characters we HC go to the back and fandom favorites are in the front and are the lightest.” 

*I however won't criticize her harsher or more than… everyone else who still largely does this in fanfiction regarding AFTG as well as literature in general. This isn't a Nora thing, it's a societal thing, and considering the books came out in like 2014 I'm not gonna hold her to a higher standard than the rest of the world. She's just someone who wrote her personal OC’s and self-published expecting no following. I don’t know her race and I’m not gonna hold her to a higher standard than everyone else just because. 

The criticisms I've seen have always been… ironic IMO, and clearly I have a lot of thoughts on it. I think most people say those things about Nora because they heard them, and it's the woke thing to say and do and don’t critically analyze their actions or anything, but just accept them.