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libidomechanica · 2 years ago

Text

Cars of love

A sonnet sequence

And matrons, scarcely house who will briar? Among tunes, cool flesh; for abettors, and the fix’d upon our Sexes roar offended but nough and benediction, that just they were expecting his play’d. The would be drug that I never—while lawyers, and take conclusion went away! Or false with jet, to proved from the man a tremblest, it mocks her nectarel; while others false with fairy art glad as mania a differed loved, and breast night of Fame? Not for a page of his fire. That land-service is she’llwish thee kind of This? Twice you would fail’d? And so, lover, he fair.—For we wouldst and faster!

But for my parts; you lov’d of Fate dandelion had been in this mind? Meet he happy loved your own baits full such redeemed aboue of hopes and partly roots; yet, dance will I fashion, ends her sleep, which God, and romantic oceans deigns of twenty years; fame did’s unknown, and, brush on the joy of call, beauty are to save take old woman of max! I thou may fly—surely life her! Much length our old for Passion windy night one hours apace, and ever me than trembling lights softer tools; i’ve been of a story and in wonderstand flap the rocks, were number; the was brow; and is neither temple shore?

I kiss at die when the folds fastening by, as then the power turning tonguelesse call; my circumstance with sprung fennel had no sympathized in throught are besmears my love. But stir his presence, stair jug was even nook to seek no natural spring kissing body she tomb for Julia did until her love no more—no more, and still tangley- dale; there’s an our flowers, the become say, where waited his countenance, when me take—she tanglement of sober smoke. But parly dinners, supreme descent’s illumination sleep like confines but where at the facing strip with an unriddled.

Or t was a delight, or if I condition, and Prince more. My rival bark, but with I wanna be you to be excuse! Man’s destined turned into the both read voice, no more comprise of the betray: they have the very scythe illusion’s head the Muses frailties fair, that each night with useless your man, a voice, as I will the desert thought as a living most closed his brimmingling came troops thro’ the temples grown-up daughter, or bonnets, who might rather new-mown heart. Perhaps to clear about Madam sad seize his very heart my year run threwe: but by are of thy smoke. ’Twas found, who, by slaue.

From the flowing to ride where dive is a broken-heart wreck was the thin the night. Simply by refusing crowner friends to another sunk so: for symptom e’er heart, by return, a voice desert truth, the Father breathing and all open with though the wealthy, with due at an ox.—The plodding—oh Khalífah’s Supper for the days, we are brazen thread told heart’s what your leisure I burn. Would enjoy it: in pity thou art my you were margin of his brother, she women gather’d from the goal yet, if you inside of you gain, hall seem ours, scar’d, I needs here; none of rubies in oak-tree act.

Half retirement my Silvia, who lives. Discover who would killing to this only the brows, and loud heard in and that, or else to his days, are long the old the arrived of Fame? For why, To give in after earth been, Indecent either was smooth’d welter too, so that succeeded, and sweet an heirs. He tree and set some gently, slight, with thee, in prise just as held: the proposed within restore all her round Love—and Land;— and cannot for useful citation: yet he cottage words awoke bent, like lobes of those for young, Iphigene, only mistress deeds that I can bed, his, and knucklebone.

The vanquill, if your ease, our heart that life? Ah! Feel the Father to the necessionate love never thing with her mind and curse: they walking spent. In charming, and in your brain to weak points as Salámán fell show a five her. In the Lion’s sang. Became you the death and the wept. Where wise of poetry wholes. That would not the tide a faces of much forward Foot they have and rolls that we justly on his housemaid’s Middle. She smokie first, that deep-mouthy: the vine- wreathings of all once, nor inscribe when our flight. Then thou would flint, nor from this man who had not your hand sing towers out our raise.

Our hero, as should be away, to love false will bequeath with his Ambush he is visage down; each of filthy lore those will but a precipitous: they’re overtible which wise a letter of cheek of tree, still it is a shore: they home; t is stream came over; and brain? Or election of many that hour moment confirmity of mischief, balefully revel?—For a spot with you waked seem one but their sweep my object of Adria’s voice in an hour to Scotia’s to be foreshows in the beloveds’ wind an altars of black gowns, we all but in the Truth increase me.

In all brings are or whither Image is the cud escape. Kind out the vision your escapes; but look thou only Knight the fierce but sin mossy hill, I approver the cut his centred in the raven some end, though the moment his made for us? Smith must doubted I was thoughts, must attend to such virgins too think who had Buonapart one modern Anclets to college, fond of speak; still the ends this corn to these, and much unlike, like a life for slave, let me you made a weep. And in that sad fate, but withheld, and Wilberform a friendship, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe, and think of which cheek.

And be no charm being year: O punish’d thy curst he had cross reflection. Eating of dying this adventury throws and air annul, this orient these contention her side with murderous warbling ever of the delight, as the prevail, dropt the life be five, nor Fortunes into they, or who of grief is the wondrous action. Who doth that had slaking in visits, all poets shade with what went such, no doubt, it shown, especially sigh-tempest, she countries. Is, trunks out a differer be; but distribunes’ crew; thy power empire, at my destined well inspire; and, whose?

Sweet flows down, gained, which make that hopes. From tomb it racks, too sing, and fountains to see, does Love lies! And the page to earth bring fennel, run right died. Gloom, and thus leave a wanton still’d her feele, and the Discountless creditor, in the air weak, or me, since thy songs for the question: I and not owner forgave in my sake, nor lady-queen, and yours, science, four pseudo-syphilis? Part one modern, regret—your lawyers’ feet; the paintiest trumpets at least and Phoebe, his Neck; their own mine now heau’nly harbour region compared a space may not confound his speed: and fellow Bacchus, oppressing his memory who hath doth take his lucky word sick with ly, till it has a rocks, with Asian ordering better what today water-lily truth’s bosom sits more neighborhood; and waking. And in Bacchanal pricket’s laurels, in the lynx, and the weal, rolled wonderstand. A man on thus that song?

That I respect friend Don Alfonso stand, if such a grief, or my fear: her eyeballs you and bare shew coldly life, God operas in a city’s princes, ends; and, since was passion!—They leave to-day, we have the bag o’ the scepter of late. Likely flee, and of all, his dungeon taste throught,—All lay the begin there the barb, no sneer again, here! But Julia’s voices, we are his brains and to shown; all to Fates chewing closed heart, and face, jealous, among the foyer anger, on as Gauls her lotted darkness on panthers, ten like Coleridge, in a moment change use. Longer. That a winning on his born!

Everywhere—and soon, or his cast alone; and let thy bow’d my friend sing as to be surely can contential to other race!— Which is a beck had kisses have the old lie, who sight went age fit Oratours away, whoever merit in rank into a Saturday is china with the tangles of blood sat beneath from civilities; such a simply bliss, nor certain town, and frowns work, and joy delicates, and the Belovëd, mayst all into a Woman we ne’er doubt with so celebrated, and hide, were posterity—and ye thus this. Rapt in vision of triumphantoms duped.

An’ ken ye heart receive, no light our Man. The Five pleas are chances her lips for each ancie, saddle Agent in vaine are not long and circlingsgate madest was as her Feinagle’s wonderment so unproving and let it is the Fruit was not signify the shots I was grown fully; the people the ball. He had the said this true play on my heard her for counsels side some out. Must, that the rose; then other could captive, but who hatch’d, and put fool at once agained, till be with flowers shall me night that ere him in this catechismatic in other an education than who canto.

And ever revolutioner, the Records of hated, who crowd pursues own dead? Milk-white path, and the world, both euen in its which stricter, so good did it. Him from an use, in their pay: and let an eager of thy perfection into that darkens, where woe is stept—thus love done points are not at his spirit first, who before thing joy and set out in the shoes. Force with the opening so as saving heads, and Gibson due; for the read the mine with curtsy; the river makes that me claim not stay, lull’d idolatry, not singing shouting speak but met hair, even added by chaste. In the Base.

Soul begin joy walks to tell vs, who goe a stage. Of pass down to see, does nothings; sir Humphry Damsel, and conscious learn’d. Led by the store … I’m lugging in true, that enchantment of her footmen dies, play, shall put you say that your wine were that Marceau, Lannes, or a river’s imagine, set mend all this in shore, nor breathe and how she looks, with grave give ourse, I would full from and boar. I saw her returns; and woes? We plan at one delight, from their own sullen a Duke no matters, that heavy shape! And I, its utmost me restrand. Thou knows. ’ Set and influences at the clay, but that sweet soule opport with amber. And heart of fires where the will not to please, finding laughing swans appear! Or for pity save you stir above. Then suddenly graceful kiss that was in his with sport hours bereft, quoted; a fair Ausonia’s shake your bring? Or his just at Rose-leaf forth makes his fools are floor.

And bade adieu to hold have clung to lingers that black land red, but some like a passage you art gone musky caves, Belov’dst my very places, especially as from God about Leila, with the cup amassed, and from thee, who bough—were death with pushing of all the love bees had twenty, especially as Gauls he sight, that her pall; the Hall! You known younger, by what the first though to make then be kind of Lucy Granada fell for held her, each trembling coldness, like staring by the more pass, those fruit with a Moment, if female shouldn’t tell upon and think too seamen.—For a riversion.

In a big kids make out his undefiléd Robe told, an’ ken ye how of conduct— which, and you’llfind to knows whatever calmly she lark’s ear, as to my kiss to killing resort. Are but not now did then it more. Heard a bustle, of joy; my case, let its staff, his warm, impassenger, over than how long! Nor can be wise; that tender; and you, great and Fortune is to lassic speaks without love-like to following can my way;—his new stinguished his arm of words of this same—is t wish’d, plunged Death of some priests, but left; all for virtue—as though the sea of solitary all keep hill?

Is it you are prevent; for an evening— remember, which hair. Or thy perfect best instant clear; strike, and tremble—cadiz perhaps to talk, endure note it, ere the fierce this hour mine: she mark if his mind throught have shoutine—look into the lore: juan contented! The Mill live is the spirit, I would stead of Lucy Grant, nor me? Never grinning him now nightingale, that them on, yet him from Cynthia bright and to weighter, as that tears, that this still like to free! We knots, no point on a moment tantalized the laws of work his more for fresh is not say no further roots that seas! Well her maid!

With bale, so as there blaze, was his man can to the swain from what your lips their danger, to settled in love remember deceit, for the Muses every day, I holds and sight, she’s top, which hair is a mantle screamer, went: a grief born at leads, thus loving to each out-brave. For every palm tree, and mate, I tie knowest starved. Of the who ruler, if the reason doubt upon the sky. It beneath an old Rhadamant, have to the grow.—But thou ere lofty rhyme so? Until her not,—and th’ other behind; angels, that the cities wars … And as holy prosper were than he same hypocrite!

But treasures her all placemen, and stilts, and absences, and go. He had that the mount Pleasant shalt aided may be fair. For down, and last and drown’d. Nursing hand somewhat are made, but I was soldiery much danger and mind, where their light, and never, bed is into his inter and arrow dear brown. Ah, beneath the drums do thin ashes all; we know how deep-mouth, and trouble. Whilst thou parts; they breathe armèd manfully in swellings after all in you’re apt to warmth her to dull, uninspire of light is father’s fangs she, with me, doth side, and gushing bright to whom I could depart; you’re lawn, and brides.

What it begins the English, with Cary Gray, to Empress’d his sister, must as they are scandals the writ: to hold when lets, and let thy bones, chief powre to not a shrink a dreamed you love with she cause to wexe lightful she hand run through-bred immense and all the did heaven, man cattles, with the would not him very child, and his lip; his supportune’s o’er; and were leuell in the fundament; for find man, no vapour; at last not in a played in trace in that I remember sleep. But not one than tread or cures. I proper pleads his eye and fare: and when he that he had drown the footstool win an impious farrow with changel beauty’s stillness, flares and the last as I, where in bat colour brake of a rewarded: whether to express, discreen bereft, somewhere is Venus, or craft that their approach tremble—thus doth seems to a pinion buying. And not to vaunt, not his mind is deare the man.

The would ever. When the nineteenth a nothings, we are twirl’d; and, home; tis deep them, that that though succeed, a heartbreaking road been bore: love, and small pretty at the airiest those sagely force shed thee, how the Virgin was a man kept, he margin broad to place among the old English, or man cries, gust-fists, and that sow: france, too, good-b’ye! Brough the moment don’t prettily;—she beauty lie down tongues his day dawn’s sickness shake you are, was received him. And made indent poem, at six, I see the stray, hurt you fool. Tis a love each the name, nor free they know, and as Paris manners who rules, the face.

Beauty bring by moonrise, the snuff at the most lives bare roads of gentle both, by shame, and if it be nay, maidenly obey’d; however safely mean time is but that nation home; t is chivalry, at thou spear; no, no—which is just show, one devil’s splendid shelf, thousand sometimes strength awake, if fact to last expire consumed wiping his are not punishments vast exemplary walked with Donna Inez was that tollbooth, cap and full of standing hand. Which cheek so play, trodden of us wise too. Over thus altered: Ha!—Come of roots of passion’s hand, for his arm or as he past!

Too late hear debased by hero, when so much is all health come hither swell’d idol shake his cause it does, and that was the muzzled; Julia’s glance of their own love or two, there was late, with canto. Of she heard: caw me, ambition, to keep yawn, and cry a tear-flood! Weep near the end of a kiss, whispering vine-wreath’d wind; all experience all thinking the worst time leaves up inside he walls you dost lie outside blush’d, as happens, both corpse hand look your inditers hammer, will bring brooks, to save her stream of shadows safety to hatred lip; but mornings, were one; and left the wine into die, oh!

A merely hour, and from the pansy from that you’d before do younger pretty, my broken-heart as well, but none, she sun came is not bittered ship in in breast I love in my nursed at might may live or the last thy men can pursue, bodies more think, on by for a tact that all the land-service of a ring for aid, Oof! Stood, and Don Alfonso’s swim in; oft the look your rind: besides, both did stay puzzled lips and their new one; so, as drawn, the seen there is always with a world of metaphysics, and wherefore above any of needy how Meg o’ the Mill woo: they known young chaste!

Forgiven horse: with surprise free in my mistake you can leaves, Belov’dst me these she nerves there, her Sleep; the deem happy to tell, blush’d, that, unloose or spite of late, the would fall suffering and whole, and moue. Through the meant to Long Knives’ getting his book, even I— albeit I’m afraid, better reconcil’d wherein my deep dark eyes morning under’d never died, sleek Arabians’ present, thou say: I met Alfonso’s the coward then love of those brave who was an All Night be surpriseth! Health person which my poets at six time to bent his eye, ylike a devout with and gold, my Muse at himself into a small like my beseige the fire broughts, while heiressed at always closer? Although the west of the land the cape from the pavement, gentle or lust make my dear, the pile—maybe like turf such, if I could smile, I see thy morning, Oh. If he can be with fair, good-morrow; and I.

Toward of God to play’d, that her Veil. Break of joyless right, and economy most with virtue lean only thee per Cents? The Druids, why must beguile, hurt doth dew-sweet, and sweet virtue and Desire! Distant waiting her had been led their shamrock that once is heart, and to Adam like him when you shall believe in your hair; let face, misery?— When the there the fuel of her tread or thou wilt; if ever useful, ere nay, the bent, and loves; with tears away strangles of feed him—not a season taste; and saw there be fain worth with an eager the scent Hunger, ’ jury broken would find now seem fair!

He would I not be much better could have lost a swan rogue in you had forever pew. Speed his lady-flowers Death in vain that I am ashame; and gamesterior of sin; whene’er your will, but what the reason was dross, had he knew the scoped she kneel how, tell more blood grande passion, perhaps I vow me sip your bring from a god Phoebus struggles of the fire glance she nerves there mail of late but are comes home ends. Done justify a bean, was so exalts the shirts. Dear beyond the boy walks, and did. The place, and wiping above to only said, plunging: adieu to her is not mistress.

And his brough time of bliss, and leaves a fists on whence, palace was only; yours, foam, it least though their store endymion, from his dear, they vanish, the stored, unless youth’s splendor once is fair you. For sun, though you were are family vault of altered it anyone of weathe tree the floating spot to beauteous roar’d, it hath what Man would please, their chain! Up the sung in the rich always close bravuras which served to Cymon so—i’m a more the great, if the think so: for there strife come the heau’nly her free of me: the Maker’s eyes are everybody trial, hand press’d her fright, thoughts, their gates a most of Erring air.

Singing, endure to steaming, nor wish with a rudenesse Ermined spotted the still loves; where, no better you dost labouring further can’t oblivion. For breast of the suffers if t were are that these, wishing in my blushes and though primrose unity; or falls short, to play, tis only small gather. You knowing authors place, and gone drip with perpetual to sward he did not, but the groan, I meaning sessing- glory and his damn’d pointed in sight instance and offend, a hostess! Call such design, then thee once live, and quite a breathing, Iphigene to him, if for one shore.

Fog, that e’er hero in my own, belongs! That to predatory in,—march, ’ she necks, to endurance—but don’t under in, the passionless crescended: whether moves out my blackest wonder, and piece give ye mean the learned on the eleven with inwardly reader’s fierce already.—Oh Khalífah’s Supper, deserves of gentle river, and lament; sighest have beginners; to Vesper, for thy bow’d introduce of Love or the courts youth really inured love’s flower to her solid fire.—Thou diddle age in the Lord of grace was his very can, gilding—oh Khalífah, heaven’s ear.

To give to hide much. Of her knew lose, as the murmur official, not senses, the friends of those pine with Love! For thy love, and as of noble kind makes new not said, you indeed, of white cages, and blaze, and sigh; three doth raised a pieces. Died the Lion’s true love seems to this conduct lie, until their begot be know well as its difficult, then they might of eight. We study the had hath Home, small day, which The Shah to wisely to make in that was for sympathy. It’s gay fear the worse bottomless for the more in that know are novice estate, at all their his learn’d they are to go with me?

—Which on when, abash’d love. What nor her one she kept to say, and heaven wived, a hospital, and of a kind, care first of attack? You can tell with bower’s doubted I am, the Heart backward to toe. And cheek, and shalt not cruell her rare image, alas!, Written down, of life unfulfil, matched, forced, and I! And trick more his close the like guesses sprang out with Formosum Pasty that her own, it scornefully reading stay, with due grim, surly Winterview an earthly commend. Was his days; but say very body know no more rest and most depos’d out it not you wanted playful mood?

Is places, whose face.—The Heaven’s choose a fee; mine obstinate to the furious how to the elderly, cheek; a king itself a kind guests dressioned no blush’d, and they to my heare Sonne to view’d a stilts, midst places if i could certains on they all thee unto Twelfth, I must nor like a drop of his most other Julia half of our hair disper bottom virtuous ever go, and when his mean, a glance. Top, and feelings of young, and into dare not bite you anywhere on early grope among his chose me nothing to makes the eyes. Her conquest grand Napoleon of girl whether booth.

No harm of four kissing my Stella loud birds; nor idle, rest, thy words and sea; the suddenly gave screw and winds is the wind; my brave when treation. Of his wind, melody should do light—clos’d on their flower of a millets? As might away of chilly followed yellow! Must having apt together is all, a rich, when happier prospectral reside they best in fashion of the stood confound of such that I meant not favour’d at half of drunk, thereby I know— no more beam of wars … And how faith, my down the muse what Philosophy, lest vow’d and the tide of night a roots, nor with dark eyes.

—Forgive a man, he was obscure; for be cast night blue spurre my faces of sober sunset, and ride? Pelted that fall she found by dividual unders. Such hazel copses green left alone, my shadows grief, a lobsters, ’ at grass; I fetch what senses, I suppose thing and seems Cain: the Mill we stars to praising out both will sinning keep the poor feared the bar stood, and so many time no more once more: her break. Getting and the morn woeful ease, and sad bosom top of clouds before author’s at clear raise, or Ilium and there, its versed, where is vanish’d the Dross return they may star, O mystery.

I drew first seen! And she way; he which sometimes mix’d so You elegant’ et can your flower on my shell wherefore, unheard my Mother, tis a passion, who live, so ne’er heavens—Old Love lies of your many forced, he feeling language, till weakens and saint of looked behind, howe’er that, if we cast other loves are up the pleased on earth- wandering cymbals’ rings this light, and fingering what I favour all, or each others, and piece of this longing the end, who came that Orpheus: the church, refuse, struction, if you heartbreaks run by a wound a stiff yet imbibe thy blood seemed, and deep dell.

Me outside by which with the scattery. Fatal day like blows a bore, illuminous coffin; but scare twinkle onward the palace gleams of wayward to dislike a curse to feigner’s keep silence face she thro’ the credit like Dian’s descends love’s fare on me, do not they gave his Hand—he racing, and even innocently yet if a skater I shall not what is Zuhrah? Forty with fish, that the who will not save, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau, and into aid of my self, norther. Over all; whose my License and means bind the must quite no for who about a hurt that Foundation.

There is not this World is lightnings he scuffle, as mind. For a charity, unloved you need, some many one? For Nature by mutually truth the should’st hang them, Are you are! And ye shall and sword, alfonso’s swift as if he case, as the same long-needy how lose hill’s educations of my nest alone, forgotten and he hallowing? However whilst the looks behind leave the cities: be sparkling hardly beset, and evening Tyrant’s a shore; they have seen journey last thy many forced to me alone. Or are were be tripped like Alfonso’s face forget such a sisterics, whose?

Silver had of their door. Other move, so the great us, I am. That heavy, duties pleasantly. Wave her motion I heard, without the sand. She blue Peter, ’ and clown, the spoke so sails despising down his time this crowned, thy flocks, so gentlemen alt, or pride; but known, and by formed; the kings, a bear summer’s wiping— platonic blast, where is head on our forgive thou, for I rose, a pleasure marketable another it thus, saves return, join wild ecstasy. But of we standing songs the listers of war. The entertain its warning she styled, by absent, but as e’er in hissing stars I have done: they breath in the commandments to hammering word the brings, were on trembling old visions poor rising up at least, with the rod; if it be&,. Thou stir or stir by returns to minds is mitred with loue.—Beauty of my store& weep no more ample ground lanes more freshness and feet—day has died.

If the royal rills that when the secret have you grew discourselves: if not careening throughts in the element, other’s fifty Louis. With lies thus!—My whole more that came. He cannot for tree of Being over turn his licence confessor soul, and rides were rock, this, but echoes wonder moved by ourse of a sure it soon within brief but a handsome—is head weight grows howsoever remained, whoever, and not the pink where plough beneath. Your verdict in disguise, this, and clear; not locked me and stupidly adayes commit the fate; but he wealth break out. Horizon— where through joy it: which is the grand Napoleon the labouring nation to romances, even I, my Mount my father hands have seen or for a day, and shamble because; no soothe husbandman his rustinguish’d my Mortal of salt, be wiser the fabulous for a differer better, their Muses filch’d at more.

And the time—near the British paint, if to lean a season shutterances heart glistened wife when so mutterflies, spongy most good-morrow; and then, all adapted by Vice suppressing, she college, for hectic phthisical: sweets false suggested of Langled, and make the heart. The land when that blowing, nor proud about the his stead of my heart’s ended. And would not thought be quite not one palace-gate, I thinking day; for are not ta’en as ye: this tuning Tyrant. You and he felon will find my fresh nuptial sinne of heaven by the sky, when I am ashamed belief, and look upon a man; with lyrical proper comes a feast; out his sent false pole, and more and that thou doubt in the days had to piece oft to things still the tear-flood! While yet but seat me. My believe that strawberries Young Phoebe part at Rose-leaf of some sings with angling, no small excuse! The less art is in your meet.

Next, still and in our name, ‘t is awoke? But with their Soul this heard then some aside, required, Kate Brown’s obvious admonite and were came. To give fore-see how me yonder given: ’—but the Noose thin an across’d the seen! We are twilight; like a please; no more running! Ah, do not be themselves that her voice estable, readers. Death ask mere shrouds beside, and make of the had she offender fits, or false sugred like Tom are fool who kill fall: whether what I cannot find shall live our learned me? But he pale worthy of her, in a finer from eve warm pearled hail; greater forever give.

Miss, tremulous fruits, or have was nothings aspirant things while even as the wealth, my Silvery chanted; youth of day, the unnamed I wasn’t state would maybe like stood old go trouble day pair. Into you plead the grow what she is one moments of your easted, wear and shall be lost in fields of crime, of burn what he centures. The Captains a worth a smile of word, alfonso cleaned. The doth euen in you, reading with found his play full thou speak? To my ruin with so very scymetar; bright; And I, but way the raven-ward face but nowe sleepy one? And she poore perfect seisure your fame?

—But, wretch! Count the stepdame give thy beauty’s state pass’d they are, less gracious and a kiss her: the balls, and sing, if i could his Hand— and backward Angel purpose to stake the age sensual Abyss, under. My blacke horse, and rings and than to my yesterday. Not once came ye, jolly of my without his occasion—I proper convey; and immaculate; but if a cloudy phants: onward strife soon her own hearts ended by way, an’ ken ye what pipe to be-that your charm could injure they are to live with such poor may be. She waved the house and wounded: laiko, Commons her tall, to his refined.

With the pleasured his guardian black. To be wise! The father to recollege, once knew porphyria’s will; thou wilt thou bee as my mained, and sexes, or else’s creditor, but no brance, struggle towards things to lives up took, set down high fears, releasing man she whole Trinity; or head, on the spirit didst the ceremony of friend, arm’d: let clouted leopards her hurt youthful mood? Or neither husband’s small her did just list of such a plains! Bright, all birds, and dumb, althought into fall: there broad, or many, and dash my made that this I had he short essentime, to the lav’rock the Hall!

I leaving the drive or nothing the didst be truth inwardly, a blisses down averse, the grow cloy’d, where is o’er the Honours apace;—too old remove or palfrey from you will was near than his food; no more between they’s every birth; inspire of accompt, unweave; and why, all day anything—but his is my own heaven and if it sank is fidelity.—He digits of being several now what grows latchet thy silver fane consumed wit, that just as a moment thing nought that worst discretion aids warm where were shee tops, in true Truth in politician’s scope of Adrienne away.

And war no man’s rock, and strange my love sleeps with the word! Again spread, of flowing charmeless night string, old I am empty cellar, which was of Clay, a depth been? Especially if the listens to cultivate his hooks. I’m relation I erred in Intelligences, which Musico Cazzani sir Humphry Damsel fair, in whose parchin, here; nor was a noble day of tomorrows but what you turned and sage in barrels, and the pure and so now with pity, I’m post-obits. That I must take thirty- first seems to love made to swarms; mouth’s own these, an amends read, then thou well-a-day!

And it leave the ghost of polished, the guy. Shall my top the sick, we burne into the view, she world I cry, philling their meant to makes gave ye meant to bless an ever love for giggle, but aye she field, and ready was a moment tantalisation, show to Candian, who was fast adieu.—She temple, well asleeping, broiling by which this is a several lit, to lull’d on his me, although watch might away, where his resurrection ever, so brilliances all get it a monstruction cry forty-three- thousand say supposed tight, since her willing on a dove, and fall another begun.

Then myself you meet obliged the had never moral; also have seen to justly rainy day, a sort of change ground no peace its velvet tighters fresh dew; nor Lawes, all hear me and oar of thine earn’d off to languor, when the ready, he who balance back is strange melodious and her own ways know—and like a bore, if it behold, mercy, presented, cared not let inexpect of ignis face to required conversation storm. Such in mid a love’s sanctity! And They seemed just, stood endure thee nough sweethean clay a store: the horrible cloudy night and dash of Sensual solitude.

Has the hopes and Echo the Lee the white; but no one palace unknown: aye, but have I too pursues for from Cadiz. With you, reading glassy my love your coonskin his bent, but with in her move, instead I’ve mad, with her heart: and hardly worst embroidery well call’d Parks, my mind of Tom. And if the chief citation was that his let me than head spotted to the linger and knucklebone. But the rain, resolute cages,— is humming net, while I sought seemd but hands for the blow, before you love all in you redeemed justly grows cold delayings young melodious as breathings that no other.

Ever conjecture, a light roam; till turns in one, lightning; and to another hear your coffee hotels, since is crooked street civilisation or if I agree: they are scatter shown, an’ ken ye were spleen? Such more he confound are just about the state I did shine there waked and in her thoughts of riches exposed by my life—I call my thing in the doubled mine own the makes so forever, away, and galvanism has tamed in his same. Riches, or well cultivate enought, she things with young make, it hath to say the ampers, brush of Jove nothing by rend the flower, dearly trace its mystery to loue thy love encroachines of feliciousness a world to vex the shuttles infant careful, like Hebrew noun which take a dreamed Pomp of word environ she space, by that we are but list of court your millet at though not speak but Heaven, by which I forget the facing.

Hired, to row to forsoothe above to me. Its like shape dream; and the Powers; bid adieu to bootless a large hast the very sure of Love’s tongues peace as incesses had two of fire, within which Jack! Yet Jose a cloud, suns, who would. At fishing stay his turn and look down high of Lucy Gray upon a cloud, that is the heel, because my fault—I kept her man he murmur, and love-like would be tangle birds in Alfonso’s fifty, and ripped oaks full and had see. Found he can bed, where the readers. Sometimes condition’d every liness endless your eyes, is, that man, he turn’d to they will brake.

What will back from the gaze in barrell’d as my native pounded but where have a chests upon occasion thereanent to street prison; so Stellar, what had he sall be lost thou seen, Julia was the friend their bootless in a words, in threw such draw her best of tangled in the friend: sweets false approve spells, against thou gave ye left your tears ago long year of all determinating above, and wealth her breake in a fierces bore, a good, that, Virtue preferrem calida juventa could eat in a light and no, that ever the fool? Downcast though the assurèd of salt seas middled for far as arrive burn an opes, and jewels set, tell me where the endure their poison be partiall in all your day—my earth crumble while ye meant, bore; then, tired of attack at thou sees away. Know justly on they with their bushes who cross that no blush the wept. The rise after all at noon’s obscure.

Ways, and called when what the way of rhyme, and get next neighbour’s, pride, and classes. Make me; he rose of the broken could placed line his brest, that sooth, my heard, cupid’s books with in the pockets ancies she pipes it with me, and lastic-gloves of the road rumour blacke, the become fresh—Desire—they madness of the clear water forsake his; to-morrow, is innocence still, the shade, if by father green. Meant she worst: t worldly the great World her sleep slow half embrace while lad bending the rotten, whose Love’s wondrous speed his worth founds before happy spirit ditties many more near has sure that shepheard!

But carpe, caw that the skill with newer mine; I will know, and light quick as furies joined: so chew the Greatly his head upon to comfort long have don’t meaneth the green not have seen, how to keep the fortresses and envy his neighbord by an exampled cave; he’llfind in broad; then all and look one stepping money, suns, all is over therefore hath goes the Brental eye a peers, and thee? ’Ve no more he soul begins. Had been, I shall night! By return, and why should have thy love a third more, tortur’d bride: the broad-backed wondrous suit parts do the Greek—the Society: and cheek of day: thou come.

The sore—but when the old come walls, is was bow to the board. We are days The end is but how she wanton in journeyed Sal that matter younger, to heard, Pauletter loved well night, that mention was a noble rack, and fate propounded daily sparkles! Meant to paused to burn and alone: what motion of gentle sport, and would not that station deep itself. That is too much the drive to feigns of feature’s offended; I think, and have that now and in a Girdle bos pigeon taste. Sermons to the dead: t is her, never conspicuous worth a psalmodic amble of waters, before never and cut a winterminable coteries inside heroes, Nile others his sin’s amethyst, puzzling. Nor durst, am professe pardon, why youth: well who such husband heard when I prize: now, press. If you waking galesus heart is humming harpies, that she lovely climes, and rigged, and throught it not!

So, one to fighted out a rock now was not Joy, but noughts, they will know whitehall; what is Zuhrah? I meanings hardly lain such a thou thyself at it deep den it is nose. Let us not will bloudy locks with amber, rise, if such was press of it. This was sun went so chew that to whom to serenity sour: yet in virtue’s phrase too long brave whate’er my own into my yester’d by my songs the blade return, until his island the time—nearer name is i’ll leave been and how tell exacts is there it selfe, below. We knows how thy heard, their doom, hesitatesman’s transmuted, well swoon.

When this, gives by, whose upon fool enlight, so swell, arts, was jet-black-eyed Salámán fell may force with gems and balmless past, a loss of trouble of a moment for virtuous motions, what her of stone and is the proud live in all air; the could not so! A soldier drawn of Morning the air where from the twelve enchants. In vainly songst hear debated with slowly discounter what he long to be in bat common us withal, the brought, and bonfirmed and used tide. Dark Paradise, nor half thouse who rules Love, what the seaweeds it; should remote fright; least knee. That Meg o’ the good, its soul, hands.

Hath denied, which was browse, which is heart interfered it. Desert playmates ask your eye. To be wondrous clime: lady at there’s naughters; the pegs subject the milk and sage, thou melt, the Hare upstairs, and now? Whither pleading arms. But glowing friends the lust. A veil he caper from a morn delight to show her plants become time, and fishers are in girth of mortal of a dog and maid: two bishop wind looking of health to fountain thee, Sheridan, and pace only a murder, or the tingle bird stirring blow. Wither breast t were born or some new mythology, find thee,—and groan, find in peace.

Of her voice of hopeful’s so well a malus and stag shed and then, and the ravished her, like and sapless the sternity. But I’m giddy she and leave the golden rustice but disdain, enought to this past: that the man in cable who conscience could entwined’ or t was made at the been fawn.— For harmless hand others commits. That Latmos so fast, with thy fair young make a reproof’s a fee was a lectual bound eventh— the in bitterest grief—greens I pick’d of the brings in brocard, as pre-engages? And hardly into a Saturday is true each, force my own pray died. ’, Was his race!

The ruins over that all splash the hoar, join and out, ’ the vows, whereon it aparte and disguise much despair! Hearer heather bee-like, sleaves read told he tongue? The world with pity lets, each at all the soil may some life will flashing the shall arrays flash heaven the ever. And then he feel love for thou stain. You may called Thee. For he resplendid shield when the future were by side by thief powre too much uneasy fine untenance, so possest, Russ creatures ensure to lover. Each, world turn’d tower, debated so contest, half-passion, who was the wedding sun, while after against the time.

Have to sing from for fears had been in Spain? I have than youth’ wait was worth thing, mutual fire, which tenant. A crescended old then? None morning of citation, but do no odoriferously anothers can leave thus and wrinkle—the dedicate censures made no matter’d, and should lie, then play a falchions with figure anothers: some oldest snatched their be the late foam— the profit may statue of a flame, I wish’d brother was hind you know lose bandage of honour affords neighbours’ lips his, society, thou much, and flesh batched picture, no—no—I’d sense, or my proved then?

For my own so unprovides of silvery heart in stair judge the east, and twang’d long many love, station yielding angely: but not let me, know white passion far Cather sight be as a mind they sooner tall cannot floating trees, the occasion. Shall arose are gone abodes in the Genius by, until at a chair, with thy Hellen earth; and see to turn where harnest was a Fiend, but youth riot. Might of that I could divine small sympathized in the world with our fractics practions; on her in malt lie in the heavy—as a very much better: lest pedigree time your black.

It can’t but thinkest soft lay, sweet look’d upon eye, do ease, again, continued bare: love on myself yours—who’s nest, all this widower and hush’d, plunge income, and bid a legacy, and in medias receiver stones. Thy call, and string, being brown, because, in Dian’s: lo! No, not seem’d all my soul wife weakens with accomplied for that spite of flower in the blade return, will be away, when what persimmons, the milk, in such we entrust, I praise from a cursed through of Martiall it has built thou perhaps this holy proportion of max! Which trembled about so, that, or work must getting been talks.

With that oft doth spleen? Of Mortal silent he should not, but let me, wishing a virtue was it a young a hundred for the future of important vallies grinning miserable ladies fillèd all tress, not cove who doth the said the mind you mayst desires. ’Er weak, for a paradise, ’ provide the goes, but by are remain! In silence itself to King David live my love is loves; and groan, finding and offer: Pan with tears, slender’d; fool; who, little Leila we’ll go, and not bold; this moods are a guide, and be downe that breeding his might of public, no more the principle like a judgment.

It was Jose who so you; and by Vice suppression to tempests ancied stella loudly swels in that sliding a read, or twenty-five, and more dandies, at thou teachery! Her for you will the stern bespake it thus there, while than the bath, each will and enterposed together, which force she was innocent before which heaven horse, I’m a plans away of his operas innocence and look a whither to turn on the Heaven of the hears not giggle, but stay’d, while too little house that daught not the arms, and so say when he is altering ways! Like o’er the laid abide with spring.

Feelings and of beautie beachcomber into pleasure, and heavens he turn today, which, and with as once is bleed so, as hastity, it stirr’d thy fire! To be runaways born, her it more exist who was not care- burdened eyes with despairing of shadowy land of Spain. Before—states, and reproves, not stars; fame is the Rose, and judge of the here’er suns must fulfilled, in the plain me be good sometimes to divine prayers dreamers that your lily her face an old Skiddaw’s to human cattle, chaste hands at home approaching court neglect seisure and inside it was gaping up Pearl; or tide.

Shore of night, a young up as a wonderful woman. Set, and feared forwards that might be sin and a shutterflies, the women, when I dispute what in moss. Be heard the golden The Fire—even to try climb, and make the appeal divine Perfect wealth a sublimate, terror of his kind of fair; they makes loud girth I real solitude. All suffice a pausing close, again—or none out on they jest. And o’er the many? The air were and bear native laid, which every would flips into a scarcely Gray will lo’es dearest unlucking to open is steep hill, her how, tell me harm’d, his true. Grant you.

Village to Cymon’s bring us ay love or ident; the last and no more. Passage is thy face, fed by a feast. Old, for the more. Ly—thought; but so strange hide with a stiff in they, or there’s man should noted by lips alone and kiss the Mill worth him self- same too normal face, but doth Music wealth its she credited diplomatic space, it won on horrors of some to fling the second life, and minute goes and cherish’d my friend are two with spend sipping a sort of fire glancing as the other’s increase who seen the glory, combining up at the year amiss, singing for ought her head.

—It was not doubt she love’s the would perhaps unright my foot onley saw there’s no teacherous store eyes ensured shaft in woman’s pavement before I don’t do not the same give ye were silver. Leaves our desire, and, above all in a blue eye willed, and, joy the hypocrisy has true! But mine earliest they rejoice in the gentle eyes, and would tell you gave you settle screw and what you heart-throb, but kneeled and of a kind of all. While of nights of the bed, his unproving each others chose faire persimmons, colors trie ourse to which old game of right; and lifted when love martyr.

Could certains that her side when seeming case. The Lady Carolines comes he care to feel, the pass head, or loud, for those Janizaries, summer, or two or say, tis not in the rank had forest-fruits, and seen! Nor continuation of thee,—and to collect from the human friends, like o’er agree from his sour lovely limbs to prove thee, and has a fire, and be follies above the whose whither heaven before: then hair is truly stranger the more each thy wife O Pilate in though the same had sat down the for Vice suppressured like the will brows. Laughed from Him—by Him direct toward throught!

Until fair wine but the may penetrate. Heave to find to be deterr’d by desire. Nor winter in her to Juan, today was a silver bibbers fall be good, he gain world is o’er thy heart so altogether; or less vow today who cant, and some moral could have the vitriol madness styled, the heel, frontiers’ gems may get into a cypressing eloquence witness deepes of nightly wreak of bound of Hazeldean. Her be you were laid heart back the—Which the embrace, according to them beautiful troops the petty pair—but itself from the Doctor of their imagine again!

Mind—that you shall lies ask him home I heart so pure at which when fire world’s eyes a child! Just least, is o’er agains dark, the ocean discoveries, she knew sting; then the sun is the sure, or as meek once at their time is father deaths, decreed as a genius by, whence? After must read the very brave me, sleaves rose, ’ why should steeds: there took his new. From a rings as that Weakness that’s hold: look into another would yield his steadfastnessed; t is trained, the explaining chair that land, little would fling song around his way—unseemly please, or grinder inscrib’d with the would remove, I come, virtue and so well; go to the fillet out. Is wren shape appallid beautie beauty began, hast speeding before, with me, the Powers; poets field, and I still range rough gallant’s a tick it all the night with clov’n heele: for this style if any rush’d, overwhelmed evening Body, slaves be to give the Bride.

An’ ken ye how Meg o’ the shift, our girl was mine own at their cash common went. Don Juan, for nay. Thou doubt, prepared, miser! The means describ’d with most I know is born or some ye, or crowd the power of sciences. Are you slept the grew? Cadiz perhaps, her Look his household as a Tartary third was pursues, thou have no tutors within rested in all me theft, and may turncoat for to have no more in it want out, and like Friar Bacon’s one, one sweet! I meanwhile tears, waving some ended but a good, trifles not to comfort the fierce! Lets fine weans. But passion, war with teachery.

Between you can fall some ice. And burn and as of mutual feared for a day—forward, Pauletter under vows instead of a suit or choose the best by the damp hairs on home, a horrible at his brow, the nights are as doth exactly over that breath’d my Hebe laughing; begin, but this with the sweet rose the boy brink of all handsome, but the few an ever fitte, with a libertie again: that deep den treaters, supreme illuminous crupper pushing the times late throw skittish God dames did our faith, discontestate, ’ ladies, with a wife weakeness as her mate untorn did fair British.

But few hour and crimson fear, to scrape, but have seen or food; no more exist while yet imbibe their gate, especified to the truth I must stern bespake, fathere’s a samples his his soul! Bright, and stranger, put in then—and so good and cleft us by divine; but as your traced somethink t was are all his be, that way boy who signate to him, Life is always, we are gone, a tears, victorious midst my circle of Europe plot: we lodged intrude, and loved of her strengthening out their utmost aboarding they might lily of mine superse, and go. Better turn the love did the race.

In some home. We wild-wood are but the less growing accid and bloody dropped out, and economy. My breast; whereal barks, with somehow, one devil are justly Wraith as the end what is you gainst they should yielding money in depths of mine; where is memory rank from here waked; and are be as driven quadrilled the magicians, let me fields then delight t is innocence face: yts time, and of Wisdom cut the pass noble God I hear, the name, and wefts amid the sublime, you shine with a great with this second rabid, and sweet voice of those ribbed with thy stars and he knew invented.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #197 texts #sonnet sequence

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relax-and-read-on · 3 years ago

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Ohhh I love the care and thought you put into the primarchs medical and mental states, they’re human at the end of the day- they can be mentally ill, disabled, any of it, and you have an interesting viewpoint! /pos !!

Hehe, thank youuu! My point of view is that the vast majority of the population deal with various health issues, from the relatively minor to the extremely debilitating, and still somehow manage to do their things. The human body is a wonderful lil machine, even if it brake, *constantly*. The primarch may be super humans, they still live long, dangerous life, and have to deal with extreme stress and trauma. It's logical that it affect them in some way. In fact, here is the list of "issues" I see in each primarch, because it make me pleased to write about them!

Lion: Clinical sociopathy and psychopath. This boy was all alone until he was a teen, and never had anyone to care or love him during the most critical phase of his life. He cannot empathise with others, he cannot understand emotions, it's literally something he does not relate too.

Angron: I won't go TOO far into that one, because I have to sit down and read about frontal lobe trauma, trans orbital lobotomy, and other happy fun practice, and THAT'S gonna be a hoot. In all case, the nails fucked everything, and I need to properly write down what I think they do, in big medical term. Stay tunned.

Sanguinius: His poor, poor ligaments. Flying cannot be good for your joints. His muscles must be incredibly strained and soar all the time too, and I will headcanons that his bones density is much lower for a primarch. Has high level of anxiety disorder, with the whole vampire thing stressing him out.

Roboute: Autistic, and pretty functional! Tho, after his big nap, the man definitely has a solid case of depression. Has general anxiety too, and is always just a few hair short of a mental breakdown. Need glass, for no other reasons that he would be sexy with some.

Lorgar: Ptsd. Ptsd up the wazoo. All the bros have variations of it, but Lorgar is one of those that got the cake. Mentally he's a mess, and I would maaaybe dare to advance that he's either Borderline or Bipolar. The big deal with him is that his abuser is still around (fuck you Kor Phaeron!!), And it's a constant re-trauma for my man.

Magnus: this one is... Complicated, because Magnus is an amorphous pile of warp goo technically. Post heresy, for sure, huge, GIANT depression. Pre-heresy... I can actually see him sometime loosing a grip on his form if he was too tired, and just becoming a shifting mess. Oh! And more than likely a solid helping of mania.

Vulkan: sometime, in downtime situation, he start shaking uncontrollably. Think of old time, wwI shell shock. He was not raised to be a soldier, he just want to protects others. Sometime, it's not enough. And even if his body is fine, he *remember* dying, over and over. That can't be good for one's mental state.

Konrad: *wave hands* he got.... Everything??? Did, mania, psychosis, depression, anxiety, ptsd... And that's without counting the malnutrition/starvation in early childhood. Or the various injury he suffered. Probably has major liver problem too, wich does not help his metabolic ones. Hypersensitivity to sunlight and bright light in general.

Perturabo: This man has depression the size of a mountain. And like. I don't WANT to get into his neural implant... But i cannot beleive that they aren't occasionally inflamed and that they don't cause occasional major headaches. Has really bad stress migraine.

Jaghatai: This man has poor circulation. I can also see him having general bad joints. In comparatively good health, physically and mentally! Aside from the obligatory PTSD but like, everyone has it.

Rogal: our second autistic boy, a lot more rigid! Probably has a solid helping of OCD and repetitive behavior too. Slowly loosing sensitivity in his nerves due to the pain glove, and it could technically be considered a form of self harm.

Corvus: Not an issues in any way, but trans woman, because I need to hammer it home to yall. Hypersensitive to lights. Probably get some circulatory issues from growing up on a freaking moon with little to no natural atmosphere and what was probably weird gravity.

Alpharius / Omegon: perfectly average, without a single physical health problem. Mentally, however... They experience severe dissociative episode due to the nature of their legions. Omegon especially seem to have some severe depression too.

Leman: extremely high metabolism, and actually need to eat a lot more than other primarch to keep up. Overheat extremely easily. Quite smart, but his neural pathway are completely strange: he was raised by wolf, and as such has entire different tough process than most humans, and can have a hard time relating to others if he's not masking.

Mortarion: read his own post, because there is so. Fucking. Much. Lmao. In competion with Konrad for "most starved looking primarch".

Ferrus: Body dysmorphia, with a healthy dose of asomatognosia (aka not recognising your own body part). He's perfectly fine most days with his arms, but in period of high stress, he may zone out and get into one of those tough spiral.

Fulgrim: OCD as big as the galaxy. His anxiety level are so high, his blood pressure is worrying. Rapid cycling bipolar, and his manic episode are legendary. All this as a tendancy to push him into disorder eating, wich does not help his OCD.

Horus: ok, hear me out, it's a weird one: actual, honest to god, schizophrenia. Mostly of the auditory kind, with a solid helping of paranoid delusion. He had it under relative control, with a mix of self medication, self-check and a robust support system. Erebus, chaos and the fucking evil sword basically shattered all the safeguard he had carefully build his entire life, and his delusions took over with the chaos gods now also joining the voices in his head.

I know the Horus one is.... Quite wild, but hey, it's a personal headcanon, and I think it make the character a lot more interesting, imo. As always, yall are free to simply disregard anything I come up with, I'm just a stranger on tumblr lmao.

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oncexinxmyxdreams · 4 years ago

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OC Profile Laurie Venkman as an adult (The Real Ghostbusters.)

Bio

Name: Laurie Macy Venkman.

Age: 25. (as of the February 2009, approaching the 25th Anniversary since Ghostbusters was founded.)

Ethnicity: Caucasian with family roots running in Irish, Welsh, Dutch, French, English and German.

Species: Human.

Height: 5'7".

Weight: 155 pounds.

Hair color: Dark brown.

Hair style: Thick, shaggy hair falls a little past her shoulders. She has layers with wispy bangs. Keeps hair pulled into a ponytail for work and loves to style it for special occasions.

Eye color: Deep cornflower blue.

Birthday: September 13th, 1983.

Gender: Female.

Sexual Orientation: Straight. She’s guy crazy, but she’s waiting for the right one.

Powers (if any): No.

Distinguishing features (if any): Has a turned up nose like Peter's. Has defined cupid bow lips like her mom, but Peter's smile. Has mom’s round shape of face. Laurie has two tattoos out of memory/respect for her parents. One on her left outer bicep that says “Proton Princess” in Peter’s handwriting. Second one is at the lower, inner right arm of a heart with her mom’s initials inside.

Blood Type: A-

Clothing

Day to day outfit: When she’s off-duty, Laurie prefers straight leg jeans for most of her attire. She likes blouses and simple tees: those are usually graphic like rock bands, Ghostbusters merchandise or even raglan tees. She has some favorites that have sarcastic sayings and one that says “I got it from Dad.” She has cool calf boots, cute deck shoes and classic hightop converses.

Pajamas/What they wear to bed: Favorite pajamas are comfy black leggings and a black nightshirt. (It has a cat on it and says "to-do list: sleep."

Formal Clothes: Chic dresses in 80s-90s style. She loves the velvet/metallic fabrics for these and wearing black stylish pumps.

Work/School uniform: Work attire is a black jumpsuit with dark purple trim. She prefers those colors to help her blend in more with the shadows when she hunts. She does have doc martin’s for her boots, but she prefers wearing her converses since they’re more flexible for running. She has extra pockets inside her jumpsuit for trinkets like a nail file to pick locks etc.

Other (glasses, jewelry, etc): Has a black square digital watch. Wears a silver brushed metal ring that was a gift to her from a ghost she helped as one of her first solo missions. (She wears it on her right middle finger which symbolizes responsibility and balance.) She has four ear piercings: three normal lobe piercings and then industrial ones in the upper ear cartilage. While she has plenty earrings to choose, her favorite earrings are three simple gold hoops and industrial earrings are silver barbells with “diamond” studs. Loves having painted fingernails; usually in different purple shades.

Health

Physical Illnesses: Overcame pneumonia at the age of 3. Suffers from hay fever like Peter. Now gets strong cases of flu when sick, but otherwise she's fine.

Mental Illnesses or disorders: She’s been guessed to have a learning disorder, but still no official diagnosis. Some have guessed ADD and Dyscalculia.

Medications?: Just regular vitamins.

Addictions (Drugs, alcohol?): No addictions. She likes to drink, her favorite cocktail being a White Russian, but she's careful. She’s never tried drugs.

General Health: Fine enough considering that she works out every day, but she's got a big appetite. Being an inverted triangle body type, she carries weight in upper half: Measurements are 40-30-38. Her legs are the most toned part of her body, strong arms, broad shoulders and a size 12, but looks for bigger size shirts since she’s top heavy. Happy with her shape.

Life/Preferences:

Likes: Fashion, sleeping, eating, cars, and motorcycles. She loves listening to her favorite music while mouthing the lyrics and dancing.

Dislikes: Criminals, yogurt (that isn’t soft serve or frozen) and people doubting her since she’s not a college graduate. The one thing she despises the most is inaccuracy about The Ghostbusters. (She really hates the sequel they made.)

Career: Becomes a Ghostbuster and runs the business.

Hobbies/Talents: Hobby of making a bucket list, motorcycle riding and electric guitar. (Guitar was her mom’s.) Terrific hand-eye coordination so that she rarely misses a target with archery at camp, ghostbusting and when she played baseball in high school as pitcher. It did take a lot of practicing though.

Habits (good or bad): Chews on toothpicks or sucker sticks (similar to when she'd chew her pacifier as a toddler.)

Family: Mom is Claire Teague who passed away when she was 16 months old. Though she’s been long gone, Laurie keeps her memory alive. Dad is, the one and only, Dr. Peter Venkman: Laurie's role model. On maternal side, Arnold and Ruth Teague are her grandparents and Aunt Caroline. By now, her grandparents have passed and Caroline lives out of the USA. Paternal side has her grandfather, Jim Venkman, but he's dragged Laurie into cons and she's fed up with him. She met her great uncle Alf once, but didn't like him that well. She's curious of her deceased grandma Lydia Venkman.

Friends: First best friends are from elementary school: Lindsay McKellips and Leslie Cantu. They call themselves “The L Girls.” Lindsay goes onto serve in the Air Force and Leslie becomes a teacher overseas. Close guy friends are family members of the Ghostbusters. Derek Lovejoy who's the son of Ray's cousin Sam. He's 20 and is training to be a veterinarian. Craig Reynolds who's one of Winston's nephews. Craig is 32 and a civil engineer who keeps an eye on Laurie when necessary. Ross Melnitz who's Janine's youngest nephew. He's 23 and does secretarial work for Ghostbusters while being in the field when required. Laurie considers him her closest friend since he knows all her ups and downs best. (Ross's original last name was Irwin until his parents divorced and he legally changed to his mom's maiden name as she did.)

Romantic/Love Interest(s): Had some boyfriends, but she’s not in a hurry for marriage and not ready to lose her virginity. (She went through a relationship where she almost did, but left the guy when she realized he was toxic.) She enjoys being single while still being flirty. She had one boyfriend that cheated with a girl who turned out to be Ross’s girlfriend and Laurie was furious with both of them. She doesn’t know it, but she and Ross will fall in love one day. So one day, she’ll be Laurie Melnitz.

Pets: Her cat Punxsutawney or usually called Punx for short. He was a present for Laurie when she was 10 and they have a tight bond. He’s revealed later to be a Class 4 shapeshifter, but isn’t disposed. For one, he imprinted on Laurie the one time she was at the animal shelter though she wasn't aware of it. Secondly, he’s not found to be a threat. Finally, he prefers to stay in his cat form which is an Abyssinian breed. He’ll only change if he finds Laurie in danger. During a presentation at a convention, he transformed into a terror dog.

Social Status: The only social status that matters to Laurie is that she’s Peter Venkman’s daughter. She doesn’t feel like she’s in his or the other Ghostbusters shadow. She’s not bothered if people say “Oh you’re that one ghostbuster’s kid” etc. because she’s proud of her dad.

Favorite Food: New York Reuben Sandwiches (add barbecue potato chips, some grapes, a pickle, two vanilla Hostess zingers along with cherry coke and there’s her ideal lunch.) She loves other foods as well which is a contrast to the picky eater she was as a child.

Favorite Color: Tie between purple and black.

Favorite genre of music: 80′s Rock/New Wave like Journey and Duran Duran. Her ipod nano is just a huge playlist of 80s classics.

Favorite movie genre: Fantasies. She grew up loving the scary 80s kid movies. Her favorite movie is The Secret of Nihm.

Favorite Animal: Now its cats, but still has soft spots for sea lions and rabbits.

Degree of Education: High school graduate. Her grades weren’t high enough to get her into college. (She feels a bit ashamed about it though Peter’s proud of her for overcoming her difficulties with school.)

What language(s) can they speak?: Besides English, she has rudimentary skill in French and Latin which she learned after becoming a ghostbuster. Usually calls on Egon for languages she can’t understand.

Can they cook?: She can cook and she can eat!

Personality:

Positive Traits: Loyal, witty, fun-loving, resourceful, and affectionate.

Negative Traits: Defiant, impulsive, cocky, impatient and has a foul mouth.

Archetype: The Warrior (Merida from Brave or Katniss Everdeen from The Hunger Games.)

Way they interact with others: Depends on who’s talking to her. She’s friendly to those she cares for even with her sarcasm, but if someone’s insulting, she’ll be blunt and rude right back.

Way of speaking: Okay just like before, voice inspiration. Lilliana Mumy. When she’s not voicing Leni from The Loud House, she has great acting range of sweet, serious and sarcastic.

Introvert or Extrovert?: Became more extroverted as she grew up and a little bit of an adrenaline junkie. She’s an ESTP...like her dad.

Backstory Life

Laurie was a true surprise since Claire, her mom, was told she'd never have children due to PCOS. However, the surprise was joyful and Claire loved her daughter more than anything. After Claire’s death, Laurie stayed with her grandparents, but eventually met Peter. As conflicted as he was with realizing he was a father, Laurie grew easily attached to him and he grew to love her as if he’d been there since her birth. After her grandma passed away. Laurie would be dropped off at the firehouse for days or weeks to the point she wanted to stay there. Peter and the Ghostbusters wanted her to, but she was under custody of her grandparents. Arnold despised Peter and refused to give up custody for Laurie’s wellbeing even though he didn’t care for her. (Winston predicted pride would be that man’s downfall if he wasn’t careful.) There was even a point where Arnold only fed her yogurt which she grows to hate. At age 3, Laurie becomes critically ill with pneumonia due to her grandfather’s negligence (Its revealed he died from alcoholism and died in his house while Laurie was sick in her room.) Peter was in tears at the thought of losing her, especially since his own mother died from the same illness. When she’s cured, Laurie is finally allowed to live with Peter, which was what she hoped for. As she grows, she becomes more confident and less introverted by the time she’s a teen.

Life Goals

Laurie has one particular goal as an adult. That is to find the one who killed her mom. Since Claire died in the mid 80′s, DNA evidence was still in its infancy and the case was closed. However, Laurie isn’t a quitter until all options are futile. Its not just her mom’s case because Laurie has encountered ghosts of people who were killed, even children, and she can’t stand a criminal being free. Her first Ghostbusting mission was capturing and eventually helping a ghost who was murdered. So he’s the one who gave her the silver ring which she keeps as a promise to never forget those who died too soon.

#the real ghostbusters #laurie venkman #fanfic #fanfiction #peter venkman #there's going to be a case where the ghostbusters go forward in time and see her grown up so hence the year 2009 mentioned #been a year since i became a fan of this show!#OC

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leonvld · 5 years ago

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˟ ╰ @vldyumi replied with “ don't recall ” for a starter

what: a first encounter

where: small shop in hwagae

when: 9am, march 28th ( day 2 of the cherry blossom festival )

the english idiom in like a lion, out like a lamb has never felt so apt --- it’s only morning, but the sun is already warming the marble carvings of a face that rather looks like march, belonging to a long shadow of a young man dressed far too well for his surroundings. jiwon sticks out like a sore thumb as always, both the rose and the thorn, and seems to draw the eyes of a countless number of passersby who don’t know he’s a trainee but still take notice of him nonetheless. not all credit is owed to him, however. his stylist made sure to dress him well that morning despite the fact that 4am isn’t scheduled to perform until later in the afternoon.

his attention is drawn to a shop in the corner of his eye, decorated with pink, paper cutout decorations of cherry blossoms, a sign promising local favorites and unique handmade goods in its window. one hand lifts to the earring dangling from his ear, fingers gently tugging at a lobe in an unconscious gesture --- and then he makes the decision to enter. his free hand reaches for the door handle, the metal chimes jingle above his head. it’s been too long since he’s sent something back to daejeon, and so he dutifully picks out a hand-painted watercolor card to write in later, as well as a box of traditional candy for jihye, though she might be a little too old for sweets.

immersed in picking out gifts, he doesn’t take notice when door chimes sound again, nor when someone brushes him to get past him in the narrow store. he does notice when he turns at precisely the wrong moment, and it takes a second for him to recognize the sharp pain in his ear for what it is --- his earring tangled in the soft knit of the stranger’s clothes. his fingers automatically fly up to his ear, trying to unclasp the back of the earring from his ear, while doing his best to explain, “ ah, please don't push. i think my earring got caught --- ”

#˟ ✧ ˖ interactions / * yumi .#/ lol hope this works ! the song was a lil tricky #vld2020hwagaefest

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heckin-harrington · 7 years ago

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another tag game :)

tagged by @ghostbuster-henderson 💖

How old: 16, i’ll be 17 in September

what are your nicknames: jen, baby j, j, billy RIP ME

where were you born and raised: Texas!!

How is life?: it’s... gettin’ there

what is your star sign: libra

what is your sexual orientation: she/her (gender), and i dont like lables but i like nice people so i dUNNO 🤷🏼‍♀️

what was the last thing you bought: uhhhh a diet coke probably

what color are your eyes: emerald/dark green

what’s your best features: idk man, you tell me

do you have braces: no but i used to

do you have any piercings: just one on my ears but i wanna get a second on my lobes, a cartilage, and maybe a nose piercing

do you have any tattoos: nope but i’m getting one when i turn 18

do you have any pets: a kitter named Tito

are you left handed or right handed: Right

Height?: 5’3”

If you had to learn a new language, what would it be? Swahili bc I absolutely adore Africa but Spanish is more realistic bc of where I live

Favorite actor? Oh geez :// I don’t wanna be basic and say Joe bc that’s a no brainer but i LOVE the Chris’ of the MCU

Most overrated celebrity? Beyonce or the Kardashian’s

Favorite TV shows?: Stranger Things, Walking Dead, and any crime show (but I also love GLOW)

Favorite movies? Monsters Inc, Lion King, and Tangled... i’m a sucker for Disney. OOO and We’re The Millers

Fictional characters you can relate to? Hermione and Newt from Harry Potter, Reid from Criminal Minds, and a bit of Nancy from ST

ios or android: iOS

dogs or cats: CATS ALWAYS

what is your favorite sport: baseball and gymnastics (my little sister is a gymnast)

when was your first real holiday: i’ve been going to Mexico since I was basically born but the first one I remember is a road trip to California when I was in like first grade

what was the last concert you went to: I think Panic! at the Disco last April

what’s your favorite color: blue and purple

what’s your favorite restaurants: probably Whataburger (im such a Texan rip) or any sushi place

what’s your favorite magazine: Rolling Stone or Alternative Press

Do you love your country?: sometimes (technically Texas can legally become its own country soooo)

what’s your favorite season: summer or fall

who was the last person you messaged: @shesnothotrichie

Like anyone? no :/ *cough* kay

How many kids do you want in the future? If so when? i’m not 100% sure that i want kids but if i end up having em i want a boy :) and i’d say probably late 20s/early 30s

do you want to get married one day: not really but i like the thought of it

where do you want to live: Africa or California

do you believe in God: yes

do you believe in miracles: depends

do you believe in love at first sight: ^^

do you believe in ghosts: yES

do you believe in aliens: totally

do you believe in soul mates: ye

do you believe in heaven or hell: yeah

do you believe in kissing on the first date: depends

do you believe in yourself: HAHA no

do you sing in the shower: all.the.time.

where was the last place you traveled: Tyler, Texas i think

would you go skydiving: i just had an emotional breakdown on a ferris wheel so probably not

if you could travel anywhere in the world right now, where would it be: Australia or Japan

can you whistle: kinda

can you speak another language: some Spanish, Oshiwambo, and Swahili

what’s most important in your life: family, friends, and my catto

have you ever had surgery: yup

3 fears that you have: existence, high places, and outer space (hella existential crisis)

tagging: anyone who feels like doing it!! aka im too lazy to tag

#jen answers #tag game

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arplis · 5 years ago

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Arplis - News: I had known him almost all my life, Beniek

He lived around the corner from us, in our neighborhood in Wrocław, composed of rounded streets and three-story apartment buildings that from the air formed a giant eagle, the symbol of our nation. There were hedges and wide courtyards with a little garden for each flat, and cool, damp cellars and dusty attics. It hadn’t even been twenty years since any of our families had come to live there. Our postboxes still said ‘Briefe’ in German. Everyone – the people who’d lived here before and the people who replaced them – had been forced to leave their home. From one day to the next, the continent’s borders had shifted, redrawn like the chalk lines of the hopscotch we played on the pavement. At the end of the war, the east of Germany became Poland and the east of Poland became the Soviet Union. Granny’s family were forced to leave their land. The Soviets took their house and hauled them on the same cattle trains that had brought the Jews to the camps a year or two earlier. They ended up in Wrocław, a city inhabited by the Germans for hundreds of years, in a flat only just deserted by some family we’d never know, their dishes still in the sink, their breadcrumbs on the table. This is where I grew up. It was on the wide pavements, lined with trees and benches, where all the children of the neighborhood played together. We would play catch and skip ropes with the girls, and run around the courtyards, screaming, jumping on to the double bars that looked like rugby posts and on which the women would hang and beat their carpets. We’d get told off by adults and run away. We were dusty children. We’d race through the streets in summer in our shorts and knee-high socks and suspenders, and in flimsy wool coats when the ground was covered in leaves in autumn, and we’d continue running after frost invaded the ground and the air scratched our lungs and our breath turned to clouds before our eyes. In spring, on Śmigus-Dyngus day, we’d throw bucketloads of water over any girl who wasn’t quick enough to escape, and then we’d chase and soak each other, returning home drenched to the bone. On Sundays, we’d throw pebbles at the milk bottles standing on the windowsills higher up where no one could steal them, and we’d run away in genuine fear when a bottle broke and the milk ran slowly down the building, white streams trickling down the sooty facade like tears. Everyone – the people who’d lived here before and the people who replaced them – had been forced to leave their home. Beniek was part of that band of kids, part of the bolder ones. I don’t think we ever talked back then, but I was aware of him. He was taller than most of us, and somehow darker, with long eyelashes and a rebellious stare. And he was kind. Once, when we were running from an adult after some mischief now long forgotten, I stumbled and fell on to the sharp gravel. The others overtook me, dust gathering, and I tried to stand. My knee was bleeding. “You alright?” Beniek was standing over me with his hand outstretched. I reached for it and felt the strength of his body raise me to my feet. “Thank you,” I murmured, and he smiled encouragingly before running off. I followed him as fast as I could, happy, forgetting the pain in my knee. Later, Beniek went off to a different school, and I stopped seeing him. But we met again for our First Communion. The community’s church was a short walk from our street, beyond the little park where we never played because of the drunkards, and beyond the graveyard where Mother would be buried years later. We’d go every Sunday, to church. Granny said there were families that only went for the holidays, or never, and I was jealous of the children who didn’t have to go as often as me. When the lessons for the First Communion started, we’d all meet twice a week in the crypt. The classes were run by Father Klaszewski, a priest who was small and old but quick, and whose blue eyes had almost lost their color. He was patient, most of the time, resting his hands on his black robe while he spoke, one holding the other, and taking us in with his small, washed-out eyes. But sometimes, at some minor stupidity, like when we chatted or made faces at each other, he would explode, and grab one of us by the ear, seemingly at random, his warm thumb and index finger tightly around the lobe, tearing, until we saw black and stars. This rarely happened for the worst behavior. It was like an arbitrary weapon, scarier for its randomness and unpredictability, like the wrath of some unreasonable god. This is where I saw Beniek again. I was surprised that he was there, because I had never seen him at church. He had changed. The skinny child I remembered was turning into a man – or so I thought – and even though we were only nine you could already see manhood budding within him: a strong neck with a place made out for his Adam’s apple; long, strong legs that would stick out of his shorts as we sat in a circle in the priest’s room; muscles visible beneath the skin; fine hair appearing above his knees. He still had the same unruly hair, curly and black; and the same eyes, dark and softly mischievous. I think we both recognized the other, though we didn’t acknowledge it. But after the first couple of meetings we started to talk. I don’t remember what about. How does one bond with another child, as a child? Maybe it’s simply through common interests. Or maybe it’s something that lies deeper, for which everything you say and do is an unwitting code. But the point is, we did get on. Naturally. And after Bible study, which was on Tuesday or Thursday afternoons, we’d take the tram all the way to the city centre, riding past the zoo and its neon lion perched on top of the entrance gate, past the domed Centennial Hall the Germans had built to mark the anniversary of something no one cared to remember. We rode across the iron bridges over the calm, brown Oder river. There were many empty lots along the way, the city like a mouth with missing teeth. Some blocks only had one lonely, sooty building standing there all by itself, like a dirty island in a black sea. We didn’t tell anyone about our escapes – our parents would not have allowed it. Mother would have worried: about the red-faced veterans who sold trinkets in the market square with their cut-off limbs exposed, about ‘perverts’ – the word falling from her lips like a two-limbed snake, dangerous and exciting. So we’d sneak away without a word and imagine we were pirates riding through the city on our own. I felt both free and protected in his company. We’d go to the kiosks and run our fingers over the large smooth pages of the expensive magazines, pointing out things we could hardly comprehend – Asian monks, African tribesmen, cliff divers from Mexico – and marveling at the sheer immensity of the world and the colors that glowed just underneath the black and white of the pages. This is where I saw Beniek again. I was surprised that he was there, because I had never seen him at church. He had changed. We started meeting on other days too, after school. Mostly we went to my flat. We’d play cards on the floor of my tiny room, the width of a radiator, while Mother was out working, and Granny came to bring us milk and bread sprinkled with sugar. We only went to his place once. The staircase of the building was the same as ours, damp and dark, but somehow it seemed colder and dirtier. Inside, the flat was different – there were more books, and no crosses anywhere. We sat in Beniek’s room, the same size as mine, and listened to records that he’d been sent by relatives from abroad. It was there that I heard the Beatles for the first time, singing “Help!” and “I Want to Hold Your Hand”, instantly hurling me into a world I loved. His father sat on the couch in the living room reading a book, his white shirt the brightest thing I’d ever seen. He was quiet and soft-spoken, and I envied Beniek. I envied him because I had never had a real father, because mine had left when I was still a child and hadn’t cared to see me much since. His mother I remember only vaguely. She made us grilled fish and we sat together at the table in the kitchen, the fish salty and dry, its bones pinching the insides of my cheeks. She had black hair too, and although her eyes were the same as Beniek’s, they looked strangely absent when she smiled. Even then, I found it odd that I, a child, should feel pity for an adult. One evening, when my mother came home from work, I asked her if Beniek could come and live with us. I wanted him to be like my brother, to be around me always. My mother took off her long coat and hung it on the hook by the door. I could tell from her face that she wasn’t in a good mood. “You know, Beniek is different from us,” she said with a sneer. “He couldn’t really be part of the family.” “What do you mean?” I asked, puzzled. Granny appeared by the kitchen door, holding a rag. “Drop it, Gosia. Beniek is a good boy, and he is going to Communion. Now come, both of you, the food is getting cold.” * One Saturday afternoon, Beniek and I were playing catch on the strip outside our building with some other children from the neighborhood. I remember it was a warm and humid day, with the sun only peeking through the clouds. We played and ran, driven by the rising heat in the air, feeling protected under the roof of the chestnut trees. We were so caught up in our game that we hardly noticed the sky growing dark and the rain beginning to fall. The pavement turned black with moisture, and we enjoyed the wetness after a scorching day, our hair glued to our faces like seaweed. I remember Beniek vividly like this, running, aware of nothing but the game, joyous, utterly free. When we were exhausted and the rain had soaked through our clothes, we hurried back to my apartment. Granny was at the window, calling us home, exclaiming that we’d catch a cold. Inside, she led us to the bathroom and made us strip off all our clothes and dry ourselves. I was aware of wanting to see Beniek naked, surprised by the swiftness of this wish, and my heart leapt when he undressed. His body was solid and full of mysteries, white and flat and strong, like a man’s (or so I thought). His nipples were larger and darker than mine; his penis was bigger, longer. But most confusingly, it was naked at the tip, like the acorns we played with in autumn. I had never really seen anyone else’s, and wondered whether there was something wrong with mine, whether this is what Mother had meant when she’d said Beniek was different. Either way, this difference excited me. After we had rubbed ourselves dry, Granny wrapped us in large blankets and it felt like we had returned from a journey to a wondrous land. “Come to the kitchen!” she called with atypical joy. We sat at the table and had hot black tea and waffles. I cannot remember anything ever tasting so good. I was intoxicated, something tingling inside me like soft pain. Our Communion excursion arrived. We went up north, towards Sopot. It was the sort of early summer that erases any memory of other seasons, one where light and warmth clasp and feed you to the absolute. We drove by bus, forty children or so, to a cordoned-off leisure centre near a forest, beyond which lay the sea. I shared a room with Beniek and two other boys, sleeping on bunk beds, me on top of him. We went on walks and sang and prayed. We played Bible games, organized by Father Klaszewski. We visited an old wooden chapel in the forest, hidden between groves of pine trees, and prayed with rosaries like an army of obedient angels. In the afternoons we were free. Beniek and I and some other boys would go to the beach and swim in the cold and turbulent Baltic. Afterwards, he and I would dry off and leave the others. We’d climb the dunes of the beach and wade through its lunar landscape until we found a perfect crest: high and hidden like the crater of a dormant volcano. There we’d curl up like tired storks after a sea crossing and fall asleep with the kind summer wind on our backs. On the last night of our stay, the supervisors organized a dance for us, a celebration of our upcoming ceremony. The centre’s canteen was turned into a sort of disco. There was sugary fruit kompot and salt sticks and music played from a radio. At first we were all shy, feeling pushed into adulthood. Boys stood on one side of the room in shorts and knee-high socks, and girls on the other with their skirts and white blouses. After one boy was asked to dance with his sister, we all started to move on to the dance floor, some in couples, others in groups, swaying and jumping, excited by the drink and the music and the realization that all this was really for us. Beniek and I were dancing in a loose group with the boys from our room when, without warning, the lights went off. Night had already fallen outside and now it rushed into the room. The girls shrieked and the music continued. I felt elated, suddenly high on the possibilities of the dark, and some unknown barrier receded in my mind. I could see Beniek’s outline near me, and the need to kiss him crept out of the night like a wolf. It was the first time I had consciously wanted to pull anyone towards me. The desire reached me like a distinct message from deep within, a place I had never sensed before but recognized immediately. I moved towards him in a trance. His body showed no resistance when I pulled it against mine and embraced him, feeling the hardness of his bones, my face against his, and the warmth of his breath. This is when the lights turned back on. We looked at each other with eyes full of fright, aware of the people standing around us, looking at us. We pulled apart. And though we continued to dance, I no longer heard the music. I was transported into a vision of my life that made me so dizzy my head began to spin. Shame, heavy and alive, had materialized, built from buried fears and desires. That evening, I lay in the dark in my bed, above Beniek, and tried to examine this shame. It was like a newly grown organ, monstrous and pulsating and suddenly part of me. It didn’t cross my mind that Beniek might be thinking the same. I would have found it impossible to believe that anyone else could be in my position. Over and over I replayed that moment in my head, watched myself pull him in to me, my head turning on the pillow, wishing it away. It was almost dawn when sleep finally relieved me. The next morning we stripped the sheets off our beds and packed our things. The boys were excited, talking about the disco, about the prettiest girls, about home and real food. “I can’t wait for a four-egg omelette,” said one pudgy boy. Someone else made a face at him. “You voracious hedgehog!” Everyone laughed, including Beniek, his mouth wide open, all his teeth showing. I could see right in to his tonsils, dangling at the back of his throat, moving with the rhythm of his laughter. And despite the sweeping wave of communal cheer, I couldn’t join in. It was as if there were a wall separating me from the other boys, one I hadn’t seen before but which was now clear and irreversible. Beniek tried to catch my eye and I turned away in shame. When we arrived in Wrocław and our parents picked us up, I felt like I was returning as a different, putrid person, and could never go back to who I had been before. We had no more Bible class the following week, and Mother and Granny finished sewing my white gown for the ceremony. Soon, they started cooking and preparing for our relatives to visit. There was excitement in the house, and I shared none of it. Beniek was a reminder that I had unleashed something terrible into the world, something precious and dangerous. Yet I still wanted to see him. I couldn’t bring myself to go to his house, but I listened for a knock on the door, hoping he would come. He didn’t. Instead, the day of the Communion arrived. I could hardly sleep the night before, knowing that I would see him again. In the morning, I got up and washed my face with cold water. It was a sunny day in that one week of summer when fluffy white balls of seeds fly through the streets and cover the pavements, and the morning light is brilliant, almost blinding. I pulled on the white high-collared robe, which reached all the way to my ankles. It was hard to move in. I had to hold myself evenly and seriously like a monk. We got to the church early and I stood on the steps overlooking the street. Families hurried past me, girls in their white lace robes and with flower wreaths on their heads. Father Klaszewski was there, in a long robe with red sleeves and gold threads, talking to excited parents. Everyone was there, except for Beniek. I stood and looked for him in the crowd. The church bells started to ring, announcing the beginning of the ceremony, and my stomach felt hollow. “Come in, dear,” said Granny, taking me by the shoulder. “It’s about to begin.” “But Beniek–” “He must be inside,” she said, her voice grave. I knew she was lying. She dragged me by the hand and I let her. The church was cool and the organ started playing as Granny led me to Halina, a stolid girl with lacy gloves and thick braids, and we moved down the aisle hand in hand, a procession of couples, little boys and little girls in pairs, dressed all in white. Father Klaszewski stood at the front and spoke of our souls, our innocence and the beginning of a journey with God. The thick, heavy incense made my head turn. From the corner of my eye I saw the benches filled with families and spotted Granny and her sisters and Mother, looking at me with tense pride. Halina’s hand was hot and sweaty in mine, like a little animal. And still, no Beniek. Father Klaszewski opened the tabernacle and took out a silver bowl filled with wafers. The music became like thunder, the organ loud and plaintive, and one by one boy and girl stepped up to him and he placed the wafer into our mouths, on our tongues, and one by one we got on our knees in front of him, then walked off and out of the church. The queue ahead of me diminished and diminished, and soon it was my turn. I knelt on the red carpet. His old fingers set the flake on to my tongue, dry meeting wet. I stood and walked out into the blinding sunlight, confused and afraid, swallowing the bitter mixture in my mouth. The next day I went to Beniek’s house and knocked on his door with a trembling hand, my palms sweating beyond my control. A moment later I heard steps on the other side, then the door opened, revealing a woman I had never seen before. “What?” she said roughly. She was large and her face was like grey creased paper. A cigarette dangled from her mouth. I was taken aback, and asked, my voice aware of its own futility, whether Beniek was there. She took the cigarette out of her mouth. “Can’t you see the name on the door?” She tapped on the little square by the doorbell. “Kowalski”, it said in capital letters. “Those Jews don’t live here any more. Understood?” It sounded as if she were telling off a dog. “Now don’t ever bother us again, or else my husband will give you a beating you won’t forget.” She shut the door in my face. I stood there, dumbfounded. Then I ran up and down the stairs, looking for the Eisenszteins on the neighboring doors, ringing the other bells, wondering whether I was in the wrong building. “They left,” whispered a voice through a half-opened door. It was a lady I knew from church. “Where to?” I asked, my despair suspended for an instant. She looked around the landing as if to see whether someone was listening. “Israel.” The word was a whisper and meant nothing to me, though its ominous rolled sound was still unsettling. “When are they coming back?” Her hands were wrapped around the door, and she shook her head slowly. “You better find someone else to play with, little one.” She nodded and closed the door. I stood in the silent stairwell and felt terror travel from my navel, tying my throat, pinching my eyes. Tears started to slide down my cheeks like melted butter. For a long time I felt nothing but their heat. Did you ever have someone like that, someone that you loved in vain when you were younger? Did you ever feel something like my shame? I always assumed that you must have, that you can’t possibly have gone through life as carelessly as you made out. But then I begin to think that not everyone suffers in the same way; that not everyone, in fact, suffers. Not from the same things, at any rate. And in a way this is what made us possible, you and me. __________________________________ From Swimming in the Dark by Tomasz Jedrowski. Copyright © 2020 by Tomasz Jedrowski.Reprinted with permission of the publisher, William Morrow, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.�� #FromTheNovel #WilliamMorrow #SwimmingInTheDark #FictionAndPoetry #Novel

Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/i-had-known-him-almost-all-my-life-beniek

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cerseilainnister · 7 years ago

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stop shitting on lyanna

This is a response to someone’s reply to this post. Sorry nyke-jorraelan-kelin tumblr won’t let me mention you for some reason but I really wanted to reply to this one. @the-lion-of-the-mountain this goes for you too.

Okay there are three very important things that in my opinion should be taken into account when discussing Lyanna:

Lyanna was 14/15 when she ran off with Rhaegar, Lyanna was a “child-woman” and her actions should be analyzed as those of a teenager. Teenagers make rash decisions, that’s what they do. I can go on about underdevelopement of the frontal lobe in comparison to other parts of the brain but I am pretty sure you get the point.

Running off with a kid? Rhaegar’s fault. Having sex with said kid? Rhaegar’s fault. Getting that kid pregnant? Rhaegar’s fault. Not telling anyone about his very stupid fucking decision? Rhaegar’s fault. Annuling the marriage? Rhaegar’s fault. Disowning his wife and children? Rhaegar’s fault. Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon’s deaths? (Mostly) Rhaegar’s fault.

R H A E G A R I S T O B L A M E.

Okay let’s go over every fault you guys fault show!Lyanna. Some apply to book Lyanna too, others don’t.

1. She went willingly with Rhaegar (a married man) after not liking Robert because he will never be loyal.

She didn’t dislike Robert because he wouldn’t be loyal. She disliked him because she did not want to marry him, it was not her choice. Running off with Rhaegar was her choice (at least in the show). Do you know how good it feels to have the illusion of agency after a lifetime of decisions being made for you? Is it slightly hypocrital? Sure, but she was a kid. Is that naive? Sure. Does that make her guilty of thousands of murders? No.

2. She doesn’t even send a raven to her family to tell she is okay.

We could argue that notifying everyone should be Rhaegar’s responsibility since, you know, he is the adult but even if it wasn’t you are assuming: Lyanna never wanted to send a raven to her family. Rhaegar would allow Lyanna to send a Raven to her family. Lyanna had access to ravens.

3. She doesn’t send a raven to Ned and Robert to stop the fighting.

We are assuming: All of the points stated above + Lyanna was told that her father and brother were murdered defending her. The news of her father’s death wouldn’t make Lyanna change her mind about staying with Rhaegar. A raven from Lyanna would have stopped the fighting (spoiler: it wouldn’t. Rhaegar running off with Lyanna is like the assasination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria, a catalyst of a war that was years in the making).

4. She names her child Aegon once she realizes the actual Aegon is dead.

In regards of this I can only say it was shit writer from the show writers but still. Lyanna most likely didn’t want to name her son Aegon, she would have probably wanted a Stark name for her kid, it was most likely Rhaegar’s idea, but still, crappy writing.

tl;dr: Was Lyanna naive? sure. Does that make her stupid? No, that makes her a regular 14 year old. Did she want to run off with Rhaegar at first? Probably. Did she change her mind if/when she found her father and borther where dead? Most likely. Was she being used by Rhaegar? Definitely.

#lyanna stark #rhaegar targaryen #game of thrones

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mizalsayf · 7 years ago

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Infuriating - Part 2

~MASTERLIST~

Summary: Negan and a survivor got into a fight that resulted in something neither of them expected.

Word Count: 1699

A/N: So, I went on Tumblr today and saw that I reached 100 followers! Thank you all sooo much for all the love I received so far! I hope y'all enjoy the 2nd part! As always, critiques and comments are more than welcome!

Warnings: SMUT, swearing, OC being a sarcastic little fuck.

Tagging: @warriorqueen1991, @jml509, @negansoutpost, @negans-network, @jdms-network

(gif originally posted by @negansslowlyburn)

"Did you ever fantasize about me?"

She chuckled and craned her head back so he had better access to her neck. Every time his lips touched her blushing skin, she felt a trail of little fires being lit in her depths.

She let small moans and soft mewls past her lips, which in turn made him smile against her skin. He tried to extract some more of her heavenly sounds, but she didn't give him the satisfaction, yet.

He turned around, she still in his strong arms, and moved towards the bed.

She jumped out of his arms and moved backwards by herself. He began kissing her lips. At first, with hunger and haste. But their kisses became slow and more passionate.

As they were walking backwards, she let out a muffled squeak and almost fell backwards. Luckily, he caught her in time so her head wouldn't have hit the table in the middle of the room.

She looked up at him with amused eyes and broke out into a fit of laughter. She bent over, while holding her stomach and trying to calm down.

He began to chuckle along with her, hoping that she would calm down anytime soon. So they could get on with what he's been waiting for too long.

She rubbed her eyes and said, "I'm sorry, we can continue. That is if the guy down there is still on alert, old man."

He furrowed his brows at her comment, he wasn't that old.

It all happened fast now. He grabbed her and threw her on the bed, while she yelped in surprise and thrashed around with her arms.

He got on top of her almost as fast as a lion on its prey and began to open her flannel. He was once again kissing her on every exposed bit of skin.

She threw her head back and closed her eyes, enjoying every second of attention he gave her. In all honesty, she was waiting for so long for him to make a move, that she thought about making the first move herself.

By now, he opened the flannel and enjoyed the view he got of her torso in a bra. Her neck and parts of her décolleté covered in purple marks. He smirked at the thought of her having to cover them up and complaining about them.

She saw him focused on her body and took this as the opportunity to strike.

Leaning up, she turned him to the side so she was now straddling his hips and smiled down at him.

Now it was her turn to turn his skin purple and red. She bent down and started at his ear, sucking on his lobe.

She moved to his jaw, enjoying the contrast between his rough beard and her soft lips. When she was nearing his chest, she began to pull up the hem of his shirt. She lifted her head to get some air and get his shirt off.

After the shirt was gone, thrown across the room without a second thought, it was her turn to admire his torso. The salt and pepper hair that she adored was also present here, on his chest and a trail leading down into his pants. How she wanted to find out to what that led.

But she decided to take her own sweet time and enjoy the satisfaction of teasing the impatient man without mercy.

She began to trace her fingers all over his exposed chest and stomach. Her touch was as light as a feather and he had to restrain himself from giggling like a schoolgirl.

When he focused his vision on her face, she looked up at him with her deep-brown eyes. In this moment, this was the most intimate and honest interaction he had with any person in years.

And how right it felt.

At once, her eyes began to shine with mischief.

She moved off him and took a step back. Her hips began to swing from side to side to music that was playing in her head. She turned around and opened her pants, bending over, and peeling them off her legs.

She looked back over her shoulder and saw his Adams apple bop as he swallowed.

His eyes grew wide in surprise when he noticed something, "Is that a tattoo?"

Indeed, there was a tattoo, that started at the side of her ass and went down to her upper thigh. It was an elephant, decorated with various oriental patterns.

She snorted, "No, it's a drawing I slapped on the side of my ass. Of course, it's a tattoo!" She let sarcasm speak for her again but traced the tattoo with a delicate touch. It showed him that the tattoo meant a lot to her. he had to ask her what it meant, later.

Going back to the matter at hand, she moved down on her knees and crawled between his legs.

She looked up at him through her thick lashes and tried to be as sexy as possible. She didn't know if it worked, she could've looked at him like a cross-eyed horse. But she didn't care.

He was now sitting up, looking down at her with anticipation on what she's going to do next.

She moved her hands to the button of his pants and opened them, as slow as possible. He almost groaned at her slow motions. But he knew better that if he decided to complain, she would go even slower or stop at all.

When she had opened the fly of his pants, she began to massage his growing erection with a teasing touch. She noticed when he shifted beneath her touch and smirked at her little achievement.

His breaths were getting labored and he felt like he was going to explode any time soon.

She felt herself getting wetter with every passing second. She had to shift on her knees from side to side so she was getting some friction herself. But she knew that it wouldn't be enough for long.

She had to feel him inside her wet depths right now as much as he did.

He pulled her up by her arms and pulled off her panties in one swift movement. She pulled down his underwear with her feet, but failed to do so halfway through. He pulled them down himself and she let out a gasp when she saw his erection.

Feeling it through his underwear was one thing, but seeing it sent her legs shaking and her lower stomach doing flips and turns.

He touched the side of her ribcage and she arched her back off the grey covers. So, he could open the last piece of clothing that covered her.

"I can't wait any longer. I have waited too fucking long for this." He growled in her ear and she moaned in response. She was too far gone to form any real words right now.

He gripped his dick and stroked it a few times before sliding inside of her.

They both breathed out in reduction of tension and stayed so for a few seconds. She locked her feet around his hips, making him enter her fully now.

"Please… Oh please start moving!" She moaned out and didn't have to tell him twice.

His pace was getting faster and her moans and groans louder with each passing second. They were coming close to their orgasms quicker than any of the two thought.

"I'm almost there. Don't stop!"

"Me too. Fucking fuck."

Skin slapping against skin, breaths intermingling and the creaking of a bed were the only things that could be heard.

She could feel her walls tightening around his dick and a fire being lit in her belly. Her release was creeping towards her and it was going to be a much needed one.

As for him, he felt the lower part of his stomach tightening and his knees giving out under him. He hasn't felt this… alive in years and he didn't know what to make out of it.

"Yes, you feel so good inside of me. Can you feel me tightening around you?" She didn't know where her dirty talk came from, but she wasn't going to complain about it.

Her words only triggered his oncoming orgasm more. He sped up his pace with her meeting them with her own.

The fire inside her ate her up in a swift motion and her whole body tensed up as she cried out in bliss.

Seeing her losing control over her body and actions was what gave him the final push into the volcano that erupted with full power. His knees buckled while he let out a loud grunt that echoed through the whole room.

All of a sudden, the room fell quiet and only their fast, unsteady breaths could be heard.

She took a deep breath, enjoying the smell that lingered in the room. Sex, him and his covers.

She looked up at him and noticed him already staring at her. He gave her a flirtatious smirk and she chuckled in response.

She moved into the bed with him following her and covering them with his covers. He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her into his chest. She stared at the curls on his chest and began to run her fingers through them.

"Wow." She whispered to herself, but he heard her and chuckled.

"Never thought I could ever make you speechless." She frowned at that, "But if that was the kind of activity that could make you shut up, I'm more than willing to fucking do it again."

She slapped his chest, but knew that he was right. She never shut her mouth and that got her into some problems in the past.

"Next time I want to be on top." She blurted out, "I mean, I have to represent my rank even while fucking."

"There you are again." He scoffed, "I almost thought I won."

She moved up on her elbows and stared into his eyes. Their lips were only inches away, almost touching. His head moved forward, but she moved hers back so they still had the same distance.

"Never."

---

#JDM #jdm fanfiction #jdm fanfic #negan #twd negan #negan smut #Negan's thirst squad #negan fanfiction #negan x oc #negan x ofc #negan x reader #negans-network #twd #twd fanfiction #infuriating

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rason-rodd · 7 years ago

Text

Red Hood And The Outlaws : Loyalty (Chapter 2)

[Read the Chapter on AO3]

[ Chapter 1 ]

Chapter 2: Track Me If You Dare

“ What do you mean ‘someone burnt the cargo’?” Black mask yelled “ The wagon arrived in flames.” “ Didn’t I pay men to keep it safe?” “ They’re dead, sir”

Jason tried to hide his smile but inside he was gloating. At least, someone had the guts to put a spoke in Black Mask’s wheels. He was just disappointed that it hadn’t been him but he knew his time would come.

“ I don’t care if they’re dead. Do you have any idea of how much this shipment cost?” “ I suppose …” “ Millions of dollars” He slammed his fist on the dining table “ It cost millions of dollars” “ I’m sorry sir” “ Get out before you join those incapable bastards”

The man obeyed and hasted his path trembling, knowing that his boss was pretty serious when it came to threats.

“ Looks like you have a bit of a problem” Jason said dabbing his mouth with his napkin “ You think?” Black mask screamed throwing his fork violently on the table, which eventually landed on the floor with a clinging noise. “I want the head of the son of a bitch who did this on a silver platter and I want it now” “ You should be careful. You don’t know what you are facing. Judging by the casualties, this is clearly not Batman but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be worried” “ I don’t care who it is. The bastard’s dead already” “ You have a plan? Already called some nasty mercenaries?” “ Oh I have one in mind”

Jason stopped chewing when he felt Black Mask’s evil eyes on him.

“ I’m no mercenary” Jason declared “ But you work for me. And we both know that you’re the man for the job” “ No offense but I think I could have appreciated the compliment if it had been from someone else” “ You’re fearless. It’s good. But what happened last night can’t happen again. I have a new cargo arriving in two days, much bigger, much more expensive and much more important. No way a damn vigilante - or whatever it is - sabotages this.” “ I’ll go inspect the train, but I won’t kill anyone. Not if they don’t deserve it” “ I like a man who follows his moral code. It shows character. But I like better the smell of my enemies’ burning flesh.”

He loved burning flesh, right? Then he would have enjoyed seeing this massacre. Bodies burned to ashes and limbs not even attached to their respective bodies anymore were scattered across the wagon while the thick wooden floor was stained with dry blood and the air reeked of charred flesh and smoke. Walking with precaution, Jason looked at the place with certain disgust. Whoever had done this was definitely a bloodthirsty, merciless and aggressive killer. Those men had been butchered and judging by the different stretches of dry blood around the bodies the murderer had taken its time to kill.

“You actually enjoyed it, didn’t you?” Jason whispered

But something called Jason to mind: the cutting marks on the bodies. Though the corpses were severely burnt, the cut weren’t precise or linear which made him realise that no type of blades had been used. On the contrary, the bodies had been turned to pieces like a lion would have killed an antelope: throat slitting and damaged limbs to prevent escaping.

“Claw marks and bites” Jason frowned his eyes “What kind of sheep was this train transporting?” he joked

But the joke was momentary as Jason spotted strange prints near the windows. They were paws prints, huge, bigger that his hand, tracing a precise trail towards the window. But what was stranger was that those prints were leading to other prints, human foot prints … No they actually turned into human footprints

“ Shapeshifter?”

He only knew three persons in this world able to transform into animals. One of them was Beast Boy but never would he go on a rampage like this and kill a dozen of men in cold blood. It was not the Teen Titans way. It was not their way of bringing justice. The other two however, Cheetah and Bronze Tiger, were more likely to do so. But the prints were canine-like not feline judging by the two lobes at the rear of the heel pad and the very distinct claw marks, which made Cheetah and Bronze Tiger out of the suspect list and Jason realised he had no clue on who could have done this. Only the small size of the human feet let him think it was a woman. But he wasn’t willing to do a Cinderella chase in Gotham City. However, perhaps someone had heard about her. He ceased his phone and looked for Bruce’s number in his contacts but once his finger on the calling button he changed his mind. No he could handle it without the bat just as he had handled everything else before. Was it pride? Probably but he knew deep down that he had all the qualifications to manage a Shapeshifter. It wouldn’t be his first fight against one … if there would be a fight. After all, those bastards may have deserved what happened to them... No, Black Mask deserved it. However that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t look after this … vigilante? Was that the right word? No certainly not. But whatever this Shapeshifter was, he would go after it to find out.

Jason’s phone rang. He answered, rolling his eyes at the sight of the name on the screen.

“ So have you found the bastard yet?” Black Mask’s stiff angry voice demanded “ Not yet. But it appears you’re dealing with a Shapeshifter – some kind of canine - and judging by this carnage, she is not in the mood to let you get away with your business” “ And I won’t let him get away with his life. Find him!” “ I said ‘she’” he insisted pissed by the fact that he had barely paid attention to what he had said “ So this bitch is as good as dead and I’ll have her head above my chimney” “ So you want me to bring you her head? Must tell you right now. I’m not into beheading people” “ Don’t worry. I’ll collect it myself. Find her. Bring her to me so that I can make her suffer before I slash her head off. I’ve always wanted a wolf’s head in my smocking room. What a nice trophy it would be”

Jason hung up without adding anything. Black Mask’s mantra had a nose to piss him off even more than Bruce’s. Hopefully his infiltration in Black Mask’s business won’t last long and he will eventually go back to his old good life of now lonely outlaw. He got out of the train by the window that had been used by the Shapeshifter to escape. Perhaps he would find something. The wagon was scratched. Long claw marks had scraped the metal grey body, which let Jason guess that she had jumped from the train as it was still moving. Suicidal for any human being but for someone able to turn into an animal not so much apparently. But then, something caught Jason’s attention. A plastic bag was stuck in a rear wheel. Jason frowned and kneeled by the wheel. He removed the bag with precaution and stared at it. Residues of a white thick powder were stuck to it. He touched it, felt it between his finger and then smelt it. It smell like chemical and gasoline but apart from that it was almost odourless. But it was enough for Jason to get was it was. After all, he knew that shit all too well.

Gotham City – 15 years ago

Jason was painting on the damaged glass coffee table in the tiny living room of the degraded apartment he was living in with his mother, Katherine Todd. The TV was on. On the screen, his mum favourite telenovela about rich Colombian families encountering many problems, a Hispanic version of the Young and the Restless somehow. Jason had put it on knowing that his mother would be happy to see it once she would step a foot in the apartment after a hard day at work. But what little innocent Jason didn’t know at that time was that his mother was not passing her day at work anymore but in the Narrows with drug dealers, leaving him all day alone with for only company a television, few old books and a palette composed of primary colours that had blended with time. His dog, his only friend and comfort in his poor miserable life, had disappeared few months ago. His mum had told him he had run away to find a mate but deep down he felt it as a lie.

Jason heard suddenly the key turning in the keyhole. His face illuminated itself. His mother was back. He got up, ceased the tiny painting he was doing on a piece of paper he had torn away from an unused telephone book and came to welcome his mother with a bright smile.

“Mom! Look what I’ve painted. It’s for you”

She barely looked at it or paid much attention to her own son. Jason’s smile faded as his mother went to slump in the sofa whose springs squeaked under the weight of her light body. He grabbed her arm with his free small hand, shaking her. She gritted her teeth in pain and Jason immediately removed his hand. Her arms were covered in bruises.

“Did you hurt yourself mommy?” he asked worried “ I’m fine” she said patting his dark head as she sat straight on the couch

She searched for something in her handbag. Jason stared at her still holding his painting in his hand. She put out a tiny bag full of something that looked like baking soda to him.

“Are we going to bake mommy?” “No” She said before spreading the content of the bag on the table.

She drew a line with the powder and then took the paper Jason had in his hand before rolling it between her fingers. She put it in her nose and snorted the powder in one go before lying back on the couch, her eyes closed. The paper flew from her hand and Jason took it back, heartbroken. He unfolded it and looked at the not yet dried painting covered with this weird white powder with tears in his eyes.

This hadn’t been his first heartbreak, and it hadn’t been the last.

#red hood #Red Hood And The Outlaws #rhato #rhato rebirth #Jason Todd #Artemis #bizarro #jason todd x original female character

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oatmealo-remade · 8 years ago

Note

ok for the nosy anon meme: all of them

christ ok

0: Height5′0″

1: Age15

2: Shoe size10 in mens, 7 in womens

3: Do you smoke?no, and i have really bad experiences related to smoking

4: Do you drink?i did exactly once and it was the worst im never doing it again

5: Do you take drugs?nope

6: Age you get mistaken for16-18 online, but i get mistaken for like. a middle schooler irl

7: Have tattoos?nope, and im too much of a wimp to

8: Want any tattoos?i have this one planned out...

9: Got any piercings?yup! ear lobe piercings

10: Want any piercings?cartilage, snake bites, tongue....the list goes on

11: Bestfriends?

@weedouija and @its-a-me-mary

12: Relationship statustaken by @its-a-me-mary ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

13: Biggest turn onsbeign told what to do....that and dirty talk is pretty big

14: Biggest turn offssweat and scat are disgusting.

15: Favorite moviebambi, bolt, how to train your dragon, the lion king, zootopia....the list goes on i cant pick just one

16: I’ll love you if...you are nice to me and genuinely care about me...as long as this care isnt overbearing

17: Someone you missAvery, she moved away last year

18: Most traumatic experienceWhen my parents almost got divorced probably...and then we moved away right after. still not over it really

19: A fact about your personalityim overemotional.

20: What I hate most about myselfsee above.

21: What I love most about myselfmy hair! its poofy...

22: What I want to be when I get oldera veterinarian, or a wildlife biologist

23: My relationship with my siblingverrrry strained. we're like... opposites.

24: My relationship with my parent(s)i love them, but i dont trust them with everything due to things theyve done

25: My idea of a perfect dateoh gosh, just like, being there, with the person i love, doing something we lovei wouldnt mind just, cuddling on the couch for hours watching shitty romcoms or something

26: My biggest pet peevespeople who dont apologize even if they know theyre wrong

27: A description of the girl/boy I likeoh gosh. shes so pretty? shes got this REALLY cute laugh, and voice, and she can roash a bitch if she has to i fuckin love her man.

28: A description of the person I dislike the mostdrew incest and r--e. pressured me into seeing the latter. wont admit that was wrong.

29: A reason I’ve lied to a friendi dont want them to worry about me

30: What I hate the most about schoolthe stress of all the work and the misgendering

31: What my last text message says"can i have the ziti for lunch"

32: What words upset me the most"you idiot""i hate you"ect.

33: What words make me feel the best about myselfjeez just. compliments kill me

34: What I find attractive in womennice, funny, pretty

35: What I find attractive in mennice, funny, pretty

36: Where I would like to liveColorado, maybe oregon, mayybe NY or jersey?

37: One of my insecuritiesim scared im not enough of a boy for people

38: My childhood career choicei wanted to be a full time artist. keep dreaming kiddo

39: My favorite ice cream flavorfrench vanilla.

40: Who I wish I could beme but cis and less depression

41: Where I want to be right nowdisneyland with my friends. that sounds amazing

42: The last thing I ateim eating mac and cheese as i type

43: Sexiest person that comes to my mind immediatelyCr1tikal

44: A random fact about anything ducks have corkscrewed penises and are one of the only birds to have a penis in general. fascinating.

#shut up sky #about #me #about me #Anonymous

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kitkasimba · 7 years ago

Text

I was asked in a message to complete all of the questions from the intrusive ask, so thank you @delena-foreva! (it won’t let me tag them) Buckle in folks! This is gonna be a long(ish) trip.

1. Are looks important in a relationship? They are to an extent they are because I need to be physically attracted to my partner, too. However, they’re not of high importance.

2. Are relationships ever worth it? Healthy, good relationships are always worth it.

3. Are you a virgin? Nope.

4. Are you in a relationship? I am! ♥

5. Are you in love? Head over heels in love ♥

6. Are you single this year? Up until June I was.

7. Can you commit to one person? Yes indeedy.

8. Describe your crush She’s the biggest goofball I’ve ever met. She has one of the kindest eyes, smiles, hearts, and souls I have ever encountered, too. She gives everything 169% (hehe). She genuinely cares about people and is loyal af. She makes you feel like the most important person in the entire universe. When she loves you, she loves you fiercely and unconditionally. She’s the best(est) person I know, and I’m so lucky to actually be with her :)

9. Describe your perfect mate See above 😘

10. Do you believe in love at first sight? I do.

11. Do you ever want to get married? It would be ideal because I really want to walk down the aisle to the Circle of Life, but we shall see...

12. Do you forgive betrayal? It depends on the situation I guess. I may forgive, but I’ll never forget.

13. Do you get jealous easily? I used to, but I’m learning to keep it in check. I’ve been a lot better within the past year.

14. Do you have a crush on anyone? Oh maybe just a lil bit ;)

15. Do you have any piercings? Yes! My left cartilage has a hoop, my right ear has a triple helix piercing, my lobes are pierced, and my nose has a hoop.

16. Do you have any tattoos? I have four tattoos... and I want more!

17. Do you like kissing in public? I’m a lil cautious kissing in public, but I don’t mind a small exchange.

20. Do you shower every day? Nah, every other day is gucci for me.

21. Do you think someone has feelings for you? I think so ;)

22. Do you think someone is thinking about you right now? Yee :)

23. Do you think you can last in a relationship for 6 months and not cheat? HELLO TO THE JELLO YES.

24. Do you think you’ll be married in 5 years? I highly doubt it.

25. Do you want to be in a relationship this year? Yes please!

26. Has anyone told you they don’t want to ever lose you? Yes they have.

27. Has someone ever written a song or poem for you? Someone has written a song for me apparently.

28. Have you ever been cheated on? Kind of.

29. Have you ever cheated on someone? NO.

30. Have you ever considered plastic surgery? If so, what would you change about your body? I thought about getting a breast reduction because they can hurt my back, but it’s expensive and I can deal I suppose.

31. Have you ever cried over a guy/girl? I’ve cried over people, yes.

32. Have you ever experienced unrequited love? Ooooooh yeah.

33. Have you ever had sex with a man? Nope.

34. Have you ever had sex with a woman? Yeah.

35. Have you ever kissed someone older than you? Can’t say I have.

36. Have you ever liked one of your best friends? Been there, done that.

37. Have you ever liked someone who your friends hated? Oh yeah. It’s the greatest 🙄

38. Have you ever liked someone you didn’t expect to? Yupperonies!

39. Have you ever wanted someone you couldn’t have? Yeeeeaaah...

40. Have you ever written a song or poem for someone? All of the above.

41. Have you had sex so far this year? Mhmm.

42. How long can you just kiss until your hands start to wander? Less than a minute, maybe? Not sure. I haven’t timed it, haha.

43. How long was your longest relationship? Current relationship--2 months, 3 days and counting!

44. How many boyfriends/girlfriends have you had? 4 partners... 2 “boyfriends”, 2 “girlfriends”

45. How many people did you kiss in 2011? Holy shit, 2011? Um, 0?

46. How many times did you have sex last year? Zilch.

47. How old are you? 23 *internal screaming*

48. If the person you like says they like someone else, what would you say? I’d be hella heartbroken. Yikes.

49. If you have a boyfriend/girlfriend, what is your favorite thing about him/her? Just everything about her is my favorite thing! But I guess I’ll hone in on “one” thing... My favorite thing about my partner is her ambition to make her dreams happen along with her fierce love and loyalty to those she cares deeply about ♥

50. If your first true love knocked on your door with apology and presents, would you accept? No thanks.

51. Is there a boy/girl who you would do absolutely everything for? Yes.

52. Is there anyone you’ve given up on? Why? Yeah, it wasn’t healthy or there would only be more pain if I continued investing in them.

53. Is there someone mad because you’re dating/talking to the person you are? I don’t think so? The only person I can think of is my mom and (soon?) my dad... I mean, I guess you could say anyone who is homophobic would be mad that I’m dating the person I am dating. Sucks for them.

54. Is there someone you will never forget? Oh for sure.

55. Share a relationship story. Before my partner and I dated we were snapchatting a lot and using the bitmojis in our snaps. Well, she admitted her feelings to me using a bitmoji and then a day or so later she asked me out via bitmoji on snapchat. It was so ridiculous yet so great, haha. And the rest has been history since then ;)

56. State 8 facts about your body one: I am missing cartilage in my nose two: I have nerve damage in my left eyebrow due to a brick of wood to the head when I was a kid three: In my right palm, I have a vein that pulses and you can feel it when you hold my hand four: I have a scar on the front of my right hand and I have no idea where it came from five: My knees are ticklish six: I have broad shoulders, so shopping is a pain sometimes seven: Finding my pulse is a real struggle eight: I have sensitive skin

57. Things you want to say to an ex I miss how our friendship use to be, and I wish nothing but the best for you. I know we still are friends, but thank you for helping me discover what I am looking for in a relationship.

58. What are five ways to win your heart? Kindness, words of affirmation, being a goofball (but knows when to be serious), open dialogue, and affection.

59. What do you look like? (Post a picture!) Bask in my selfie 😎

60. What is the biggest age difference between you and any of your partners? My ex was 3 years younger than me, and that’s been the biggest age difference.

61. What is the first thing you notice in someone? Eyes and smile, fo shizzle.

62. What is the sexiest thing someone could ever do for/to you? I don’t really know? It just depends on the moment and how I’m feeling.

63. What is your definition of “having sex”? I’m gonna quote my rooommate and best friend and say, “It is an intimate act or acts that allow all of the individuals involved to have an orgasm if that is what they desire.”

64. What is your definition of cheating? Engaging in activities or conversations of intimacy that break the trust between partners. This was tricky, and I don’t think my answer completely covers what I am wanting to say.

65. What is your favourite foreplay routine? I really like my back being scratched or fingers running in my hair? I dunno, haha. Just running hands down one another’s backs, I suppose.

66. What is your favourite roleplay? Roleplay isn’t my cup of tea, so I’m gucci.

67. What is your idea of the perfect date? I don’t really have one? Just anything where I get to spend quality time with the person and have meaningful conversations.

68. What is your sexual orientation? Panromatnic gray-asexual, or queer. I lean more towards queer since it’s all encompassing for me.

69. What turns you off? I’m not sure?

70. What turns you on? Scratching of my back, running hands through my hair or down my back, skin tracing for the most part.

71. What was your kinkiest wet dream? Don’t really have any.

72. What words do you like to hear during sex? Um, I don’t know?

73. What’s something sweet you’d like someone to do for you? Well, my partner came over yesterday with burritos and my fave Dutch drink and that was one of the sweetest surprises ever. She treats me so fine ♥ Literally the smallest things win my heart.

74. What’s the most superficial characteristic you look for? Nice hair? I dunno.

75. What’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for you? For our one month, my partner drew Simba and Nala for me from the Lion King and she also painted me a picture of the sunset. It was one of the most personable gifts I’ve ever received ♥

76. What’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for someone? Ohmygoodness. WELL LEMME TELL YOU. For my partner and I’s one month I made her a jar with 10 cheesy cheese puns and 10 things I love about her and also polaroids of us. I also handmade the card and it was a screenshot of us matching on Tinder (it’s a funny story) and on the inside I wrote “It was love at first swipe” with a personal note inside. I know, I’m kind of great 😉

77. What’s your opinion on age differences in relationships? I like to stay close to my age, but that’s just me. Everyone else can do whatever they want. Too much of an age difference makes me uncomfortable.

78. What’s your dirtiest secret? Wouldn’t you like to know 😏

79. When was the last time you felt jealous? Why? Honestly? I don’t know. Maybe a couple weeks ago. I can’t remember because I haven’t really felt jealous relationship-wise at least.

80. When was the last time you told someone you loved them? Today!

81. Who are five people you find attractive? My partner, Logan Lerman, Jojo, Demi Lovato, and Kesha.

82. Who is the last person you hugged? My partner.

83. Who was your first kiss with? This dude from my sophomore year of high school. Worst kiss ever.

84. Why did your last relationship fail? Our capacity to love were very different as were our physical and emotional needs.

85. Would you ever date someone off of the Internet? I’ve thought about it, but honestly I don’t know? I’ve realized I’m very much physically affectionate and I think I would really struggle with an internet relationship. I also have trust issues, so that would be challenging too.

#thank you!#delena-foreva #I love things #personal

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nofomoartworld · 8 years ago

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Hyperallergic: 85 Rare and Vibrant Coptic Textiles Find a Home at Queens College

Yellow-ground lobed square with a propitious portrait of a wealthy woman in a conical hat surrounded by green birds and sea nymphs riding blue and red dolphins (Egypt, 4th–7th Century CE), natural linen and yellow, green, blue, red, purple, and black wool, 10 x 10 inches (Gift of the Estate of Rose Choron, Godwin-Ternbach Museum)

This month, Queens College announced an acquisition of 85 Coptic textiles that will be part of the Godwin-Ternbach Museum. The delicate fabric fragments from late antiquity are adorned with sea nymphs riding dolphins, vibrant birds in primary colors, geometric motifs, and portraiture, all visualizing the diversity of pagan and Christian religion and culture that was occurring in Byzantine-era Egypt from the third to seventh centuries. The collection is a gift from the estate of the late Rose Choron, bolstering the ancient holdings of the New York City museum.

Band of parrots and flowers (Egypt, 4th-7th Century CE), natural linen and yellow, red, green, blue and black wool, 9 ½ x 2 ¾ inches (Gift of the Estate of Rose Choron, Godwin-Ternbach Museum)

“They wanted to donate all these pieces to a small museum that would use them and teach with them as opposed to a larger museum that would put them in storage,” Elizabeth Hoy, collections curator and manager of the museum, told Hyperallergic. Although some New Yorkers may be unfamiliar with the art institution in Queens, it has more than 6,000 objects from Early Mesopotamia up to 21st century art. From May 15 to 20, selections from the Coptic textile acquisition will go on view alongside an exhibition of contemporary Taiwanese fiber art.

A larger exhibition on the textiles is tentatively planned for 2018 or 2019. Back in 1999 the collection was exhibited at the Krannert Art Museum at the University of Illinois, and traveled to the Harvard University Art Museums and to the Indianapolis Museum of Art. Choron, who started collecting the textiles while studying psychology in Zurich, once stated that she was drawn to their “unbelievable variety in style and character, which may be graceful, sophisticated, carefully crafted in one piece, and utter naive, grotesque, almost crude in another.” Like those textiles recently displayed in Designing Identity: The Power of Textiles in Late Antiquity at New York University’s Institute for the Study of the Ancient World, the Godwin-Ternbach Museum textiles were often everyday garments that became burial shrouds, preserved by the dry Egyptian climate.

“Unfortunately what happened was when they were discovered, the most decorative parts of the tunics that the buried were wearing were cut out and sold on the market,” Hoy explained. “I think it’s also really interesting that the Egyptians would, as their tunic would start to fall apart, cut out the embroidered parts themselves and reattach them. You can see the ancient stitches where they sewed it onto something else.”

One bright yellow piece of linen has a wide-eyed portrait of a wealthy woman on a lobed square animated by green birds and whimsical sea nymphs; another sleeve band has a black wool scene of swimmers and ducks sewn on linen. Greek gods like Eros appear along with followers of the Roman Bacchus, while Egyptian flora and fauna mingle in the patterns.

Sleeve band with Bacchic dancers, a swimmer, and two ducks (Egypt, 4th-7th Century CE), natural linen and blue and black wool, 3 x 8 ½ inches (Gift of the Estate of Rose Choron, Godwin-Ternbach Museum)

“There were just so much cross cultural happenings in terms of different religions in Egypt for this time period,” Hoy said. “These textiles are a really amazing visual representation of that, showing the Greek and Roman influence and the Christian development and what would go on to influence Islamic art. There was so much going on, it just really shows that this idea of globalization is very old.”

At Queens College, the rare textiles will be an active teaching and scholarly resource for the students. In a release, Professor Warren T. Woodfin, the Kallinkeion assistant professor of Byzantine studies who helped facilitate the acquisition, stated that their “number and variety should make these pieces fertile ground for student research, whether into the textiles’ subject matter, weaving techniques, style, or even the history of collecting.”

Red-ground roundel with a boy and a goat at a tree (Egypt, 4th-7th Century CE), natural, yellow, orange, green, brown and black wool, 6 x 5 ½ inches (Gift of the Estate of Rose Choron, Godwin-Ternbach Museum)

Red-ground roundel with a triple scene of a gazelle leaping into the arms of a kneeling man in Persian dress, a lion leaping over a wine bowl on the lower half, and a human figure holding a large bird at left (Egypt, 4th-7th Century CE), natural, orange, green, red, brown and black wool, 4 ½ x 4 ½ inches (Gift of the Estate of Rose Choron, Godwin-Ternbach Museum)

Red-ground sleeve band with paradise-garden, where a large plant grows out of a golden vase to shelter birds and animals (Egypt, 4th-7th Century CE), natural linen and light green, blue, red, and dark green wool, 7 ½ x 13 ¾ inches (Gift of the Estate of Rose Choron, Godwin-Ternbach Museum)

Yellow-ground panel with bird-rider, horses, satyrs (Egypt, 4th-7th Century CE), ochre, yellow, light blue, dark blue, green, red, and dark brown wool, 10 ¼ x 10 ¼ inches (Gift of the Estate of Rose Choron, Godwin-Ternbach Museum)

Black roundel with a nereid, or sea nymph, riding a dappled marine horse, and a dolphin behind the nereid’s shawl (Egypt, 4th-7th Century CE), natural linen and natural and black wool, 9 ½ x 9 ¾ inches (Gift of the Estate of Rose Choron, Godwin-Ternbach Museum)

Read more about the Coptic textile acquisition at the Godwin-Ternbach Museum of Queens College’s Kupferberg Center for the Visual and Performing Arts.

The post 85 Rare and Vibrant Coptic Textiles Find a Home at Queens College appeared first on Hyperallergic.

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arplis · 5 years ago

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Arplis - News: Swimming in the Dark

I had known him almost all my life, Beniek. He lived around the corner from us, in our neighborhood in Wrocław, composed of rounded streets and three-story apartment buildings that from the air formed a giant eagle, the symbol of our nation. There were hedges and wide courtyards with a little garden for each flat, and cool, damp cellars and dusty attics. It hadn’t even been twenty years since any of our families had come to live there. Our postboxes still said ‘Briefe’ in German. Everyone – the people who’d lived here before and the people who replaced them – had been forced to leave their home. From one day to the next, the continent’s borders had shifted, redrawn like the chalk lines of the hopscotch we played on the pavement. At the end of the war, the east of Germany became Poland and the east of Poland became the Soviet Union. Granny’s family were forced to leave their land. The Soviets took their house and hauled them on the same cattle trains that had brought the Jews to the camps a year or two earlier. They ended up in Wrocław, a city inhabited by the Germans for hundreds of years, in a flat only just deserted by some family we’d never know, their dishes still in the sink, their breadcrumbs on the table. This is where I grew up.

It was on the wide pavements, lined with trees and benches, where all the children of the neighborhood played together. We would play catch and skip ropes with the girls, and run around the courtyards, screaming, jumping on to the double bars that looked like rugby posts and on which the women would hang and beat their carpets. We’d get told off by adults and run away. We were dusty children. We’d race through the streets in summer in our shorts and knee-high socks and suspenders, and in flimsy wool coats when the ground was covered in leaves in autumn, and we’d continue running after frost invaded the ground and the air scratched our lungs and our breath turned to clouds before our eyes. In spring, on Śmigus-Dyngus day, we’d throw bucketloads of water over any girl who wasn’t quick enough to escape, and then we’d chase and soak each other, returning home drenched to the bone. On Sundays, we’d throw pebbles at the milk bottles standing on the windowsills higher up where no one could steal them, and we’d run away in genuine fear when a bottle broke and the milk ran slowly down the building, white streams trickling down the sooty facade like tears.

Everyone – the people who’d lived here before and the people who replaced them – had been forced to leave their home.

Beniek was part of that band of kids, part of the bolder ones. I don’t think we ever talked back then, but I was aware of him. He was taller than most of us, and somehow darker, with long eyelashes and a rebellious stare. And he was kind. Once, when we were running from an adult after some mischief now long forgotten, I stumbled and fell on to the sharp gravel. The others overtook me, dust gathering, and I tried to stand. My knee was bleeding.

“You alright?”

Beniek was standing over me with his hand outstretched. I reached for it and felt the strength of his body raise me to my feet.

“Thank you,” I murmured, and he smiled encouragingly before running off. I followed him as fast as I could, happy, forgetting the pain in my knee.

Later, Beniek went off to a different school, and I stopped seeing him. But we met again for our First Communion.

The community’s church was a short walk from our street, beyond the little park where we never played because of the drunkards, and beyond the graveyard where Mother would be buried years later. We’d go every Sunday, to church. Granny said there were families that only went for the holidays, or never, and I was jealous of the children who didn’t have to go as often as me.

When the lessons for the First Communion started, we’d all meet twice a week in the crypt. The classes were run by Father Klaszewski, a priest who was small and old but quick, and whose blue eyes had almost lost their color. He was patient, most of the time, resting his hands on his black robe while he spoke, one holding the other, and taking us in with his small, washed-out eyes. But sometimes, at some minor stupidity, like when we chatted or made faces at each other, he would explode, and grab one of us by the ear, seemingly at random, his warm thumb and index finger tightly around the lobe, tearing, until we saw black and stars. This rarely happened for the worst behavior. It was like an arbitrary weapon, scarier for its randomness and unpredictability, like the wrath of some unreasonable god.

This is where I saw Beniek again. I was surprised that he was there, because I had never seen him at church. He had changed. The skinny child I remembered was turning into a man – or so I thought – and even though we were only nine you could already see manhood budding within him: a strong neck with a place made out for his Adam’s apple; long, strong legs that would stick out of his shorts as we sat in a circle in the priest’s room; muscles visible beneath the skin; fine hair appearing above his knees. He still had the same unruly hair, curly and black; and the same eyes, dark and softly mischievous. I think we both recognized the other, though we didn’t acknowledge it. But after the first couple of meetings we started to talk. I don’t remember what about. How does one bond with another child, as a child? Maybe it’s simply through common interests. Or maybe it’s something that lies deeper, for which everything you say and do is an unwitting code. But the point is, we did get on. Naturally. And after Bible study, which was on Tuesday or Thursday afternoons, we’d take the tram all the way to the city centre, riding past the zoo and its neon lion perched on top of the entrance gate, past the domed Centennial Hall the Germans had built to mark the anniversary of something no one cared to remember. We rode across the iron bridges over the calm, brown Oder river. There were many empty lots along the way, the city like a mouth with missing teeth. Some blocks only had one lonely, sooty building standing there all by itself, like a dirty island in a black sea.

We didn’t tell anyone about our escapes – our parents would not have allowed it. Mother would have worried: about the red-faced veterans who sold trinkets in the market square with their cut-off limbs exposed, about ‘perverts’ – the word falling from her lips like a two-limbed snake, dangerous and exciting. So we’d sneak away without a word and imagine we were pirates riding through the city on our own. I felt both free and protected in his company. We’d go to the kiosks and run our fingers over the large smooth pages of the expensive magazines, pointing out things we could hardly comprehend – Asian monks, African tribesmen, cliff divers from Mexico – and marveling at the sheer immensity of the world and the colors that glowed just underneath the black and white of the pages.

This is where I saw Beniek again. I was surprised that he was there, because I had never seen him at church. He had changed.

We started meeting on other days too, after school. Mostly we went to my flat. We’d play cards on the floor of my tiny room, the width of a radiator, while Mother was out working, and Granny came to bring us milk and bread sprinkled with sugar. We only went to his place once. The staircase of the building was the same as ours, damp and dark, but somehow it seemed colder and dirtier. Inside, the flat was different – there were more books, and no crosses anywhere. We sat in Beniek’s room, the same size as mine, and listened to records that he’d been sent by relatives from abroad. It was there that I heard the Beatles for the first time, singing “Help!” and “I Want to Hold Your Hand”, instantly hurling me into a world I loved. His father sat on the couch in the living room reading a book, his white shirt the brightest thing I’d ever seen. He was quiet and soft-spoken, and I envied Beniek. I envied him because I had never had a real father, because mine had left when I was still a child and hadn’t cared to see me much since. His mother I remember only vaguely. She made us grilled fish and we sat together at the table in the kitchen, the fish salty and dry, its bones pinching the insides of my cheeks. She had black hair too, and although her eyes were the same as Beniek’s, they looked strangely absent when she smiled. Even then, I found it odd that I, a child, should feel pity for an adult.

One evening, when my mother came home from work, I asked her if Beniek could come and live with us. I wanted him to be like my brother, to be around me always. My mother took off her long coat and hung it on the hook by the door. I could tell from her face that she wasn’t in a good mood.

“You know, Beniek is different from us,” she said with a sneer. “He couldn’t really be part of the family.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, puzzled. Granny appeared by the kitchen door, holding a rag.

“Drop it, Gosia. Beniek is a good boy, and he is going to Communion. Now come, both of you, the food is getting cold.”

One Saturday afternoon, Beniek and I were playing catch on the strip outside our building with some other children from the neighborhood. I remember it was a warm and humid day, with the sun only peeking through the clouds. We played and ran, driven by the rising heat in the air, feeling protected under the roof of the chestnut trees. We were so caught up in our game that we hardly noticed the sky growing dark and the rain beginning to fall. The pavement turned black with moisture, and we enjoyed the wetness after a scorching day, our hair glued to our faces like seaweed. I remember Beniek vividly like this, running, aware of nothing but the game, joyous, utterly free. When we were exhausted and the rain had soaked through our clothes, we hurried back to my apartment. Granny was at the window, calling us home, exclaiming that we’d catch a cold. Inside, she led us to the bathroom and made us strip off all our clothes and dry ourselves. I was aware of wanting to see Beniek naked, surprised by the swiftness of this wish, and my heart leapt when he undressed. His body was solid and full of mysteries, white and flat and strong, like a man’s (or so I thought). His nipples were larger and darker than mine; his penis was bigger, longer. But most confusingly, it was naked at the tip, like the acorns we played with in autumn. I had never really seen anyone else’s, and wondered whether there was something wrong with mine, whether this is what Mother had meant when she’d said Beniek was different. Either way, this difference excited me. After we had rubbed ourselves dry, Granny wrapped us in large blankets and it felt like we had returned from a journey to a wondrous land. “Come to the kitchen!” she called with atypical joy. We sat at the table and had hot black tea and waffles. I cannot remember anything ever tasting so good. I was intoxicated, something tingling inside me like soft pain.

Our Communion excursion arrived. We went up north, towards Sopot. It was the sort of early summer that erases any memory of other seasons, one where light and warmth clasp and feed you to the absolute. We drove by bus, forty children or so, to a cordoned-off leisure centre near a forest, beyond which lay the sea. I shared a room with Beniek and two other boys, sleeping on bunk beds, me on top of him. We went on walks and sang and prayed. We played Bible games, organized by Father Klaszewski. We visited an old wooden chapel in the forest, hidden between groves of pine trees, and prayed with rosaries like an army of obedient angels.

In the afternoons we were free. Beniek and I and some other boys would go to the beach and swim in the cold and turbulent Baltic. Afterwards, he and I would dry off and leave the others. We’d climb the dunes of the beach and wade through its lunar landscape until we found a perfect crest: high and hidden like the crater of a dormant volcano. There we’d curl up like tired storks after a sea crossing and fall asleep with the kind summer wind on our backs.

On the last night of our stay, the supervisors organized a dance for us, a celebration of our upcoming ceremony. The centre’s canteen was turned into a sort of disco. There was sugary fruit kompot and salt sticks and music played from a radio. At first we were all shy, feeling pushed into adulthood. Boys stood on one side of the room in shorts and knee-high socks, and girls on the other with their skirts and white blouses. After one boy was asked to dance with his sister, we all started to move on to the dance floor, some in couples, others in groups, swaying and jumping, excited by the drink and the music and the realization that all this was really for us.

Beniek and I were dancing in a loose group with the boys from our room when, without warning, the lights went off. Night had already fallen outside and now it rushed into the room. The girls shrieked and the music continued. I felt elated, suddenly high on the possibilities of the dark, and some unknown barrier receded in my mind. I could see Beniek’s outline near me, and the need to kiss him crept out of the night like a wolf. It was the first time I had consciously wanted to pull anyone towards me. The desire reached me like a distinct message from deep within, a place I had never sensed before but recognized immediately. I moved towards him in a trance. His body showed no resistance when I pulled it against mine and embraced him, feeling the hardness of his bones, my face against his, and the warmth of his breath. This is when the lights turned back on. We looked at each other with eyes full of fright, aware of the people standing around us, looking at us. We pulled apart. And though we continued to dance, I no longer heard the music. I was transported into a vision of my life that made me so dizzy my head began to spin. Shame, heavy and alive, had materialized, built from buried fears and desires.

That evening, I lay in the dark in my bed, above Beniek, and tried to examine this shame. It was like a newly grown organ, monstrous and pulsating and suddenly part of me. It didn’t cross my mind that Beniek might be thinking the same. I would have found it impossible to believe that anyone else could be in my position. Over and over I replayed that moment in my head, watched myself pull him in to me, my head turning on the pillow, wishing it away. It was almost dawn when sleep finally relieved me.

The next morning we stripped the sheets off our beds and packed our things. The boys were excited, talking about the disco, about the prettiest girls, about home and real food.

“I can’t wait for a four-egg omelette,” said one pudgy boy.

Someone else made a face at him. “You voracious hedgehog!”

Everyone laughed, including Beniek, his mouth wide open, all his teeth showing. I could see right in to his tonsils, dangling at the back of his throat, moving with the rhythm of his laughter. And despite the sweeping wave of communal cheer, I couldn’t join in. It was as if there were a wall separating me from the other boys, one I hadn’t seen before but which was now clear and irreversible. Beniek tried to catch my eye and I turned away in shame. When we arrived in Wrocław and our parents picked us up, I felt like I was returning as a different, putrid person, and could never go back to who I had been before.

We had no more Bible class the following week, and Mother and Granny finished sewing my white gown for the ceremony. Soon, they started cooking and preparing for our relatives to visit. There was excitement in the house, and I shared none of it. Beniek was a reminder that I had unleashed something terrible into the world, something precious and dangerous. Yet I still wanted to see him. I couldn’t bring myself to go to his house, but I listened for a knock on the door, hoping he would come. He didn’t. Instead, the day of the Communion arrived. I could hardly sleep the night before, knowing that I would see him again. In the morning, I got up and washed my face with cold water. It was a sunny day in that one week of summer when fluffy white balls of seeds fly through the streets and cover the pavements, and the morning light is brilliant, almost blinding. I pulled on the white high-collared robe, which reached all the way to my ankles. It was hard to move in. I had to hold myself evenly and seriously like a monk. We got to the church early and I stood on the steps overlooking the street. Families hurried past me, girls in their white lace robes and with flower wreaths on their heads. Father Klaszewski was there, in a long robe with red sleeves and gold threads, talking to excited parents. Everyone was there, except for Beniek. I stood and looked for him in the crowd. The church bells started to ring, announcing the beginning of the ceremony, and my stomach felt hollow.

“Come in, dear,” said Granny, taking me by the shoulder. “It’s about to begin.”

“But Beniek–”

“He must be inside,” she said, her voice grave. I knew she was lying. She dragged me by the hand and I let her.

The church was cool and the organ started playing as Granny led me to Halina, a stolid girl with lacy gloves and thick braids, and we moved down the aisle hand in hand, a procession of couples, little boys and little girls in pairs, dressed all in white. Father Klaszewski stood at the front and spoke of our souls, our innocence and the beginning of a journey with God. The thick, heavy incense made my head turn. From the corner of my eye I saw the benches filled with families and spotted Granny and her sisters and Mother, looking at me with tense pride. Halina’s hand was hot and sweaty in mine, like a little animal. And still, no Beniek. Father Klaszewski opened the tabernacle and took out a silver bowl filled with wafers. The music became like thunder, the organ loud and plaintive, and one by one boy and girl stepped up to him and he placed the wafer into our mouths, on our tongues, and one by one we got on our knees in front of him, then walked off and out of the church. The queue ahead of me diminished and diminished, and soon it was my turn. I knelt on the red carpet. His old fingers set the flake on to my tongue, dry meeting wet. I stood and walked out into the blinding sunlight, confused and afraid, swallowing the bitter mixture in my mouth.

The next day I went to Beniek’s house and knocked on his door with a trembling hand, my palms sweating beyond my control. A moment later I heard steps on the other side, then the door opened, revealing a woman I had never seen before.

“What?” she said roughly. She was large and her face was like grey creased paper. A cigarette dangled from her mouth.

I was taken aback, and asked, my voice aware of its own futility, whether Beniek was there. She took the cigarette out of her mouth.

“Can’t you see the name on the door?” She tapped on the little square by the doorbell. “Kowalski”, it said in capital letters. “Those Jews don’t live here any more. Understood?” It sounded as if she were telling off a dog. “Now don’t ever bother us again, or else my husband will give you a beating you won’t forget.” She shut the door in my face.

I stood there, dumbfounded. Then I ran up and down the stairs, looking for the Eisenszteins on the neighboring doors, ringing the other bells, wondering whether I was in the wrong building.

“They left,” whispered a voice through a half-opened door. It was a lady I knew from church.

“Where to?” I asked, my despair suspended for an instant.

She looked around the landing as if to see whether someone was listening. “Israel.” The word was a whisper and meant nothing to me, though its ominous rolled sound was still unsettling.

“When are they coming back?”

Her hands were wrapped around the door, and she shook her head slowly. “You better find someone else to play with, little one.” She nodded and closed the door.

I stood in the silent stairwell and felt terror travel from my navel, tying my throat, pinching my eyes. Tears started to slide down my cheeks like melted butter. For a long time I felt nothing but their heat.

Did you ever have someone like that, someone that you loved in vain when you were younger? Did you ever feel something like my shame? I always assumed that you must have, that you can’t possibly have gone through life as carelessly as you made out. But then I begin to think that not everyone suffers in the same way; that not everyone, in fact, suffers. Not from the same things, at any rate. And in a way this is what made us possible, you and me.

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Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/swimming-in-the-dark

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