#i want to know about the dissolution of GHOST

[transingthoseformers]

NO BECAUSE I'M THINKING ABOUT THE EARTHSPARK S1 AND S1 TIME SKIP AGAIN😭😭😭😭😭

[nyaagolor]

You know I think Apollo deserves a lil paranoia. As a treat

-

Every time Apollo thinks of Vera Misham, there’s a selfish twisting in his gut. She was doing better, all things considered, and would occasionally send the Wrights texts— she wasn’t much of a letter type for obvious reasons— with pictures of her increasingly frequent trips outdoors and the things she painted there. But when he looks at her, he can’t see her for anything but a memory behind the witness stand, shoulders slumped like someone was holding her in place, biting down on one of her nails and staring at Klavier like he was a ghost. He keeps his hands clenched tightly in his lap, wanting more than anything to loosen his tie that suddenly feels like it’s choking him. The insurance had kicked in seven years later, he thinks, and no one had known until after.

When Apollo sees Vera, his throat gets dry and the words catch in his throat. Every time, his mind goes blank save for a little list, ever growing, that he’s turned over and over a hundred times already. At first it’s the big things: the suit was from him, because Apollo didn’t have one— couldn’t afford one— and the ill-fitting ensemble he had scrounged from goodwill wasn’t going to cut it for such a distinguished agency. He remembers a fountain pen— some holiday gift too expensive for him to think about, that he used even after the law firm’s dissolution. A law book from the agency’s personal collection has sat in Apollo’s apartment for longer than he cares to remember. The list gets longer, more detailed, as the months go by. It’s not just gifts anymore. He tries to remember how many times he fell asleep in the office. He tries to remember the taste of the tea he was given. Every hand on his shoulder, every bit of praise, every soft look or touching gesture, falls under scrutiny years too late. Apollo sits there, every time he looks into Vera’s eyes, and runs again through the list of every kind thing Kristoph has ever done wondering which of them will be the one that kills him.

[amateurasstrologer]

BY NECESSITY #1 SATURN IN PISCES

Hi babies, what’s up? You thought I forgot about you? 

Well, you’re right, I did. But I’m back, bitches - at least for today - to remind you that astrology is still the shit. So, before I ghost again, let’s talk. This week it’s a Saturn in Pisces special. 

Now, before you’re like, “Are you kidding? This bitch comes back after how long to talk about some random ass placement that doesn’t even apply to me? Ugh.” Just take a breath. Saturn is in Pisces. Right now. In the sky. So even if you’re not getting extra fucked like all the people having their Saturn Return, you’re still experiencing the energy and all the shit I’m about to say still applies to you. 

Alright. First, let’s talk Saturn. Saturn is all about form. It’s foundations, it’s structure, it’s hard, it’s the shit you stand on that you forget you’re standing on (until a transit happens and forces you to look down in ice cold terror). It’s important to remember that Saturn deals with all foundations - which foundation (physical, mental, etc.) depends on which sign you’re working with. When Pisces gets involved, you’re dealing with your psychological, emotional foundation.

Next, Pisces. Pisces is about all dissolution. Pisces is last in line for a reason. All the shit you absorbed during your little life cycle - collective beliefs and ideals, definitions of success, definitions of failure, the shit your parents believed, the shit their parents believed, etc. - someone needs to dissolve all that loud biz (cue Pisces) so you can get back in touch with the real true you (cue Aries). Pisces is on that transcendental shit - it’s here to elevate you, it’s fucking your foundations up in a beautifully painful liquidation process, as in we’re closing everything has got to go this business is over forever goodbye we’re done. 

When you put these two together and you get a fucking shit show. Hardening and dissolving? Opposites. Pisces is like “yes I’m here to love you forget you ever had a structure all of this is meaningless it’s time blend in the timeless space of forgiveness we’ll feel it all and understand the origin of life the mystery of life heart eyes” and Saturn is like “Look at your life! Build something! Be accountable! These are your limits - learn them! Wake up! You dropped your spine! Go pick it up! But also good luck bending over to pick it up because you don’t have a spine! Ha!” 

It doesn’t take eyes to see that Saturn is not comfy in Pisces. And it’s true, Pisces and Saturn do bring very different shit to the party. But relationships are raw materials, babies, it’s what you make with them that matters.

Saturn and Pisces, together, create an opportunity for you to give your psychological, emotional foundation a fucking upgrade. Pisces helps you dissolve the fake ass bull shit persona you’ve been passing off as a self, and Saturn helps you reform into a person who, you know, you’re actually happy to be - a person with a psychological foundation based on inner-truth, not on societal/cultural/ancestral rules and regulations. Bitch, you’re a treasure! You’re a beautiful unique person, not a robot! If you wanted to be all copy paste should have reincarnated as a keyboard smh. Wake up.

Saturn in Pisces is a call to transform yourself on a spiritual level. The deepest level. (Deeper than you Scorpio sorry.) This isn’t some find a new job, find a new hobby bull shit. This is deep unconscious reconditioning. This is scary, triggering shit. You thought Pisces was out here just blending in the gooey goodness of love? Please. Think about what dissolution actually means. You want to be psychologically free? You want to scrub your karma? Get in touch with your essence? Lol. Girl. Get ready. This transformation process is a gnarly, confusing, and, most importantly, it takes time (thanks, Saturn). Just can’t rush it. 

Alright, before you get too scared to continue, let me say it one more time for the people in the back: When Saturn is in Pisces, the unconscious, emotional (Pisces) foundation (Saturn) of your life stops being hidden. Material that was collecting dust (and power) in your unconscious (Pisces) is suddenly visible (Saturn). Surprise, bitch! Time to take a look.

Okay. Now, what happens when you’re confronted with your very own subconscious (Pisces) scaffolding (Saturn)? Well, two options: 

(1) You lose perspective and collapse the transformation process before it has time to do its thing, dissolving your sense of self (Pisces) and hardening around rigid beliefs (Saturn) to bring yourself back to a superficial sense of safety, making your life temporarily more stable and comfy but ten million times harder to confront your psychological foundation at the next opportunity.

(2) You stay focused on the big picture and face your fears, dissolving the toxic beliefs you were unconsciously building your life on (Pisces) and reforming your identity (Saturn) into something real and true, making your life temporarily more lonely and difficult but ten million times easier to relate to yourself and others forever and ever amen.

“Uh wtf who would pick option one?” You, me, anyone allowing themselves to actually feel the crippling existential dread of having to face the unknown (Pisces) or anyone who can’t bear the thought of looking critically at their inherited beliefs (Saturn). It’s not an opportunity for the faint of heart. Or for anyone who doesn’t have, at the very least, one friend. And not some moralizing “forgiveness heals all wounds hang in there” type of friend - I’m talking some real ass, truth staring ass, love you anyways bitch.

So, why did I return from the underworld to tell you this shit now? Because Saturn is only halfway through it’s uncomfortable stay on the Pisces commune. Listen - if you’re starting to feel crazy, like (1) “I swear some shit must be up I just cannot catch a break from feeling like living shit” and (2) “why does the same shit continue to happen to me over and over again like fuck I thought I got over this shit in 1933” it’s because (1) you’re being called to transform and transformation is an active process time to stop being dragged around use you legs and (2) part of this particular transformation process is acknowledging that you did not leave any shit in 1933 and you’ve actually been dragging that ugly shit around in your unconscious and it’s secretly been controlling every decision you’ve made since then. Sorry.

“Ugh, can I just close my eyes and open them when this whack ass transit is over?” Sure. They’re your eyes, babe. But, just between you and me, why would you want to do that? This is a wonderfully unique time to face the truth (Saturn) and give yourself compassion and grace (Pisces), so that you can, oh, I don’t know, turn this car around before you and your unconscious Thelma and Louise yourselves. For a limited time only - the lights are on! There is no better time to look at this shit. The cosmic support is here. Right now. Let these lunar lovelies carry you through. 

The key to navigating this transit successfully (and consciously), is to pay attention to what you’re dissolving, and what you’re hardening around. Be suspicious about the shit you take for granted emotionally - investigate that foundation - ask yourself: Where did this shit even come from? Is this the psychological foundation I want to perpetuate? Don’t keep trying to wrap yourself back up in that shed skin, babies, it’s not a good look. Embrace the rawness.

The energies are active, the pressure is there, but if you open yourself to working with the energy of the times instead of just closing your eyes and hoping for the best, you can completely transform your life over the next 12 months. No joke. No exaggeration.

Until we meet again, bitches, happy charting.

XO BULLSHIT FREE ASTROLOGY 

[rockscanfly]

Sometimes I write things! Usually if there's a fandom I love and I don't see the specific kind of stuff I'm interested in reading that's when the writing bug will hit me. Hence, a lot of rarepairs or rare dynamics. Sampler of works I'm proud of below, sorted by fandom:

Red Dead Redemption 2 (currently most active fandom. i'm engaged in an ongoing campaign to bring more bottom!Charles Smith to the world)

the stars are not wanted now: Charles Smith, Sadie Adler, and the two deaths of Arthur Morgan.

Snow Bunny: Three years after the dissolution of the Van der Linde gang, Arthur and Charles pass a long winter together. Arthur calls Charles something new in bed, to rave reviews. Later, he earns a new nickname of his own. (or, Arthur Morgan-Smith's Guide To Surviving The Canadian Winter, Cowboy Style)

Once Bitten, Twice Shy: Running it alone for over a decade doesn't tend to make you very good at communication. When Arthur's un-buried ghosts darken the doorstep of the home he and Charles have built together, Charles’ instinct to pull away ignites a conflagration that threatens to burn that home to its foundations. (or, Arthur considers reconnecting with his former mentor. Charles loses his fucking mind)

Young Justice (pretty much every fic is about Kaldur, my forever girl. My oldest and most prolific fandom, have some WIPs but TBD on if they see the light of day. )

Recovery: No one's really been okay since the invasion ended. Artemis is back on the Team and back to school in Central City, M'gann and Connor are helping the Team stay afloat, Roy's quit the business to take care of Lian, and Dick has retreated back to Blüdhaven. With all this, everyone can't help but notice how Kaldur's reacting to the last year of trauma, and to it finally being over. (Or, in better words, how he's not reacting.)

Gallows Humor: Five jokes that only Artemis and Kaldur laughed at. (or: A Treatise On the Effects of Exposure to Organized Violence in Early Adolescence)

and four a.m. knows all my secrets: (five beds Kaldur has lied awake in and one where he found rest)

Atlantean Cryptanalysis For Beginners: Concept: the little eel faces on Kaldur's hands change their expression depending on his mood (or, Artemis is great at detail, and everyone else is a moron. Nothing is new)

I Saw The Harbor Lights (They Told Me We Were Parting): It’s Kaldur’s last night before he puts his and Dick’s plan into action. And he’s going to spend it with his boyfriend. (or, In Which Kaldur And Roy Go On A Date And Everything Is Beautiful And Nothing Hurts)

I have other fics that I've enjoyed writing, but these are the ones I want to pin for easy access.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita/wibta for not paying my charity donation?

🐾🐾🐾 To find later hopefully

So. It sounds bad but hear me out. Leaving some details vauge because if you know the situation it's kind of obvious who and what I'm talking about. About a year ago I went to a convention that did an auction to raise money for charity. I bid on and won a commission slot for something. I'm well below the poverty line so the staff running the auction said they would set up a payment plan for me so I didn't have to drop a large sum of money all at once.

I tried checking with them a few times to get it set up, but there were always bigger fires to deal with, so I figured I would wait for them to let me know. I did confirm that my commission was supposed to be made right away, not when I finished paying, because the con was fronting my charity donation, but the donator had taken the responsibility for buying the materials needed, so my payment to them wasn't a factor in their workflow.

Fast forward to this year and I still don't have my item I bid on. The person who donated it ghosted me about seven months back. I've tried to reach out and gotten no response, but they're still very active online selling to other people and having commission slots open for the same kind of items.

I ended up telling the con about it to see if they could reach out to them and at least get some answers, and I don't know if they actually did because no one has gotten back to me, but the person in charge of the charity flat out told my friend that they think they and the convention have no responsibility to make sure I actually get what I'm supposed to be paying for, but that I still owe them the money.

I'm honestly really dissolutioned with the convention in general for a lot of reasons beyond this, but it's at the point that I'm not sure I want to go back next year unless some big changes are made. I almost don't care if I get my commission anymore, and I'd rather just not give them the money and wash my hands of it all. The con would be out the amount, because they fronted it to our donation total last year, but I don't think it's fair to expect me to pay a massive amount of money for absolutely nothing.

So. Would I be the asshole if I just walked away from all of this?

What are these acronyms?

[eydi-andrius]

Don't Get Sad, Get Even V

warnings: mention of injuries, threats, tags were not exhausted

aemond targaryen x wife!reader

summary: You and your House Dressed Up for Revenge.

a/n: thank you for the long wait. it took time for me to write this down. i had to cut the chapters into two, and this one will be the first part. i hope to finish this fic this march. thanks for reading!

Kindly reblog your comments if you can to help me share my stories to others. i appreciate every likes but i also do want more readers to read my works.

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Epilogue

+++++++++++++

Cold, glassy eyes stare at you whenever your mind is not occupied. It bothers your sleep and you know you’re pale as a ghost as the days pass by without news about the dissolution of your marriage. 

Meanwhile, worry etched on your servants faces the more they looked at you but you dismissed them and told them you were fine. And it was truly not that bad. Your pale face walking around the hallways gave you more power and pity to the servants. While the highborn lies to your face about feeling sorry for you but were waiting for the right moment to bite unto Aemond once your marriage was done. Not that you mind. The more he loses his power to you, the better.

And the living was the least of your concern whenever you see Alys staring in the corner of your room while you work. You see her green lifeless eyes staring into your soul. 

The problem doesn't lie to you seeing her. No. It was the truth that you can't tell. 

After what happened, the days seem to go on with normalcy. And you knew, they have hidden her death more than they had hidden his assault towards you. 

You would lie if you said it didn't kill you each night knowing that they were capable of hiding his murder, his sin. 

Then there came a news that Alys was sent back to Harrenhal as she requested to give birth there. 

No one questioned it, some tried to get a reaction from you but you were occupied in making sure that once you go back to your home, everything will be set. 

Your father will step down as the lord and it will be passed down to you. A plan that was strategized before he went back home. 

However, you need to plan ahead. You know you can't be unwed for too long. You only have one moon to make sure the power will be given to you, no questions. And find another suitable suitor as a husband. 

Someone who is capable but dependent. Or else what happened with your marriage will happen again. 

You were left in your own thoughts as you handled the parchments for the businesses and merchants who wanted access on the road with lesser taxes. And you can't help the disgust that you felt when one of them was a noble who was rich enough to let his children inherit all of his riches yet wanted the poor to handle the responsibility more than them. 

He even proposes that you marry one of his children who were notorious for abusing his wives and mistresses. The disrespect to offer marriage when the finality of the dissolution was not yet revealed. And the idea that you deserve just that because they think you will be lower now that you have been married once. 

Fools. 

Then an idea popped up inside your head to make this lord suffer. You immediately took your quill and wrote down a letter, when your door burst open with your Lady Knight breathing heavily and bathed in her own sweat. 

"My lady! It's here!" She raised the parchment on her hand and you stood up. 

You stride towards her, heart beating from anxiousness.

What if the same with Alys death, they'll be able to stop your marriage from ending. You know if that happens, your death will follow suit. 

With shaky hands, you rolled open the paper and your legs wobbled from what was written there. 

"My lady!" Your knight yelled out and immediately went to your aid. 

Tears slowly roll down your eyes as you continue reading the parchment. 

"My lady, please. I know it will be fine. We'll be here no matter what the decision was." Strained smile was plastered on her face as your lady knight reassured you. Giving you comfort as she realized that the written letter must have been the opposite of what you were expecting. 

Instead of telling her, you gave it to her so she can prepare by herself. 

You watched as her eyes followed the ink and saw her eyes slowly widening. She breathed deeply and looked at you. 

A yelp came out of your mouth when she suddenly let go of the paper and hugged you tightly. 

"I'm glad, my lady! You're finally going home!" She places her head on your shoulder and you feel her tears touch your skin.

Relieved, you hugged her back and cried with her the whole time.

You did not know how long you two have cried but once you let go of each other, Rikka came in with a confused look at first when she saw the two of you but then your knight nodded at her. 

You don't even need to tell her about it, she knew and she almost flew towards you and wrapped you with her arms. 

"Oh gods! I am so glad!" She squealed with delight. She immediately let go of you and stared at your tear stricken face again. 

"I believed that was not the real face of a woman who was able to outwit her husband. Come on! We must fix you! She told you as she practically dragged you out of your office and towards your room. 

Once seated in front of the vanity, you signaled for her to stop. 

"Give me the simplest dress you can find and make sure to style my hair as plain as you can." You ordered her as an idea struck you. 

She smiled at you and went to go do her duty. 

You looked at yourself and smiled at the tear stricken face staring back at you. A lady who had conquered a dragon and won.

You were not able to ruminate about your thoughts when your door flung open and a disheveled Alicient came into your view. 

"My daughter!" A gasp left your lips when you felt her warm arms wrapped you into a hug. You were a bit surprised about it at first but hugged her back when you realized what was happening.

"So you've found out?" You asked. 

"I did. The raven was sent to the King's Hand and I was with him when he received it." She shared as she looked at your face and wiped the remaining tears. 

"Hmmm." Was your only response as she looked you in the eye and sighs. 

"It must have been tough all those years. I came here not to antagonize you further but to thank you for being the best daughter in law I would have in this lifetime. Know that even after this, you are still like a daughter of mine." A tear was able to escape her eyes and you watched as her face was etched with sadness. You can feel how sincere she was and you decided to clasped your hands with hers, reassuring her that you did not blame her for whatever happened with you and her son. 

"And you are like a mother of mine too. I am grateful to be part of your family, even for a short period of time." You said with a smile at her. 

More tears fell down on her face and you can't help the sad smile you gave her as your hold tightens. 

"I know….. this must be selfish of me to ask….especially on how the treatment towards you will change after the dissolution was announced but may I request for you to stay until the tourney ends?" By this time, she removed your hold to her hands and she instead held yours. Her eyes twinkled with hope and you know deep within you that you can't say no to that. She had taken care of you and this wasn't much of a big deal if you stay longer as per her request. 

With a nod, you agreed and she gave you the brightest of smiles you ever saw her wear. And by that time you know you did the right thing. 

At least that's what you have thought until the announcement of the dissolution of your marriage. The nobles were not even subtle when they isolated you right away. Everyone stares at you and whispers whenever you are around. It was to be expected but you took it too lightly that you forgot how annoying it could be. 

A deep sigh of relief left you when you finally arrived at your destination. You have been ignoring this place to lessen the whispers you will hear but visiting here was the only wise decision you ever had as the garden that was gifted to you and your husband was ignored by everyone on the Red Keep like a plague. 

"Please leave me be." You asked Lady Godwin when she was about to follow you at the center of the garden. 

"But my lady-" She protested but you shook your head. 

"I do want you to stay here at the entrance and leave me be. I will stay right there so you can see me even from afar." You reassured her and she frowned for a bit but then fixed herself and stood at the entrance. 

You gave her a smile, grateful, and you walked towards the flowers. You bit your lip and sighed once you were far away enough from her. Since what happened and the changes at the treatment of the court, your knight never left your side, not even for a moment.

Something you were grateful about but it slowly suffocates you as her presence adds to the tension you face everyday when you decided to stay for the Queen as she pleaded. 

A smile graced upon your lips when you came closer to the red Braavosi flower that was able to live here in the Red Keep even though it shouldn't have. It was just one flower planted in here but somehow it grew and has its own bushes now. A beautiful flower that symbolizes versatility. You're glad it was planted here. 

A rustle on your left made you step back from where you were standing. You frown when a man emerges from a turn that will lead to the center of the garden. The mysterious man was average in height compared to Aemond and he was shaking his head to remove the fallen leaves. From the way he moves his head, you were not able to recognize him but when he moved his arms on the side, his sigil revealed who he was. A flock of ravens surrounding a black shield charged with a dead weirwood, on a scarlet field; a Blackwood. 

When the man looked up, he almost stumbled backwards when he saw you staring at him. Meanwhile, even from afar, your lady knight was holding the hilt of her sword. 

"My lady!" With visible shame, he immediately bowed in front of you.

Willem Blackwood. The first person that came into your mind once you caught a glimpse of his face. They must have traveled early so they'll be able to attend and join the tourney and not just the feast.

You gave him a wry smile when he looked up again. His face was a bit red and his whole stance was screaming uncertainty and shame. 

"Apologies, my lady. I didn't mean to bother you from your stroll. I was walking around when I found myself lost in the field-". He was speaking fast trying to explain himself but you quieted his ramblings right away when you realized what must have happened. 

"I understand." 

"I'm glad you do, my lady." He replied with a look of relief washing over him. 

"No one in the Red Keep will be brave enough to visit here intentionally anyway. As this whole garden was a gift for me and my former husband by the King itself." You straightened and walked towards the closest flower. In the corner of your eye, you can see that his body went rigid. And the tension was back on him again. 

"I truly deeply apologize, my lady. If I had known, I would have been more careful walking around.-" 

"You should be. Vhagar is uncaged." You cut him off again and you noticed how he gulped when you mentioned and threatened him with the obvious dangers around that will bite him from his carelessness. 

You looked over Lady Godwin and nodded at her that everything was well. She nodded back and stood on her post. 

"So Lord Willem Blackwood, you must have arrived early to join the tourney noh?" You asked as you turned at him. 

His surprise face was apparent when you mentioned his name. Being a former wife of a prince and an heir, memorizing every important face in the realm was the simplest task you could do even while sleeping. Knowing their names, faces and houses was a power on itself.

"You knew me." He asked. A smile was plastered on his face for a second but was gone after he coughed and composed himself.

"You must be the one-eyed prince's wife. I mean — former wife." He said, certain of who you were. 

All the light was gone on your face when he mentioned your current status in King's Landing. A little more days to endure being called this way but this is getting old. 

Seeing how your face changed, he immediately spoke again and explained himself. 

"I didn't mean to offend you, my lady—". You looked him in the eye when he referred to you using your house's name. His face looks brighter now. As if something good happened to him while conversing with you. 

"Ah here! As an apology for that embarrassing display of my foolishness." He took something out of his pocket and seeing the blue petals of the flower you knew that he truly meant to apologize.

"That flower cannot thrive in our place, no matter how hard our family tries to grow one. I thought I'll bring it back home and dry it but I think your beauty deserves to hold such a precious flower." His whole demeanor changes. His timid action before was completely changed once he called you on your house's name. Your true identity. He offers the flower again when you stare at it. With no choice left, you accepted it. 

The smile that graced upon his face was something you're not familiar with. Usually, the twins or Helaena were the only ones who wore this, a pure and genuine toothed grin.

It did not take long for him to converse though, after sometime he excused himself as his family might have been looking for him now. But before he left, he confirmed if you will watch the tourney. When you said yes, he wasn't able to contain his happiness as he walked away with spring in his step.

"Your beauty truly knows no bounds, my lady." Lady Godwin teased you as you walked past her, intent on going back inside when the sun started setting down. 

"I was expecting this teasing from Rikka, not you." You said with an apathetic face. 

"Haha! Apologies, my lady. I can't help but wonder though. He seems familiar with you. Have you met him before?" 

He does, isn't he? 

However, before you can respond as you two take a turn to the castle, you've heard a familiar voice spoken to your right. 

"Smart girl." You turn towards the source of the voice and you can't help but blink from confusion as to why he was here. 

"My prince." You called him. His short silver hair was tied back as he leaned against the wall. His feet crossed at each other and his lilac eyes were looking at his ring before he looked up at you. He was wearing a black leather clothing, his sword, dark sister, strapped to his side. 

He raised his eyebrow and looked to your side. Your lip turned into a thin line as you understood what he meant. 

"Leave us be." Even though you hesitate to let your knight away from you, one look from Daemon sends shivers down your spine. He usually just ignores you as you were the wife of his nephew, to whom he did not favor the most. 

Yet, he was standing here. As if waiting for you.

When your knight did not move or follow right away, you looked at her and nodded. With a frown, she bowed and turned walking away from the two of you. You did not miss the way she looked back though. 

"First in the history of the Targaryen that a wife was able to leave her husband while still alive." He continued and you looked at him straight in the eye. You don't know what he needs from you. Since you had been betrothed to Aemond, Prince Dameon and Princess Rhaenyra barely talked to you. Not that you did not expect it, but your father has supported Viserys and Aemma, even before they were crowned so it must have been a shock when his only daughter was married to the son who called her children bastards. 

"May I know how I owe this pleasure to converse with you, Prince Daemon." You kept your face as apathetic as you can. However, you cannot help but grip your dress on the side as you felt the fear when he looked back at you. 

"Maybe you had married the wrong Targaryen." He replied and all the alarms you felt before started ringing inside your head. Until, sounds of footsteps behind him echoed throughout the hallway. You looked up from its source and immediately bowed your head when you saw Princess Rhaenyra walking towards you. 

"My love, I do believe that the lady wasn't interested in marrying a child, the same as I do when I was young." She smiled at you and you masked the fear that surfaced before she came, with a chuckle.

"I'm glad that I am able to meet you today, your grace." You told her as you placed your hands together in front of you. 

"It has been a while, isn't it? You were just a young thing when I first saw you and now, you have become a fine lady." She gave you a soft smile. Something you did not expect since she did not take your marriage well after knowing that her strongest supporter decided to marry one of the greens. Yet, she's here. Eyes full of sincerity. 

She stared at you for a while before speaking again.

"I've heard about it…… How he attacked you and how the bruises started the rallies on our doors. At first, I never believed it. I trust the Queen, Alicient, to raise her children not to hurt their wives. But then I realized that it wasn't her fault. Children grow and they decide for themselves." She paused. Eyes strayed in the garden. She gave a deep sigh before she continued. 

"You might be wondering why I approached you. I…….I felt betrayed when your marriage to my brother was announced. It took too long for me to forgive your father until I realized I never really did offer Jace's hand for marriage to your family. You are his only heir. As a father, he cares for you more than his allegiances to anyone. Something I…..I always wish my father would do for me when he announced me as his heir." A sad smile graced upon her lips as she looked back at you. You can't help but feel her sadness as you recalled how she was left to defend for herself when his father's lack of support made a fool out of his daughter. 

"I want what is best for everyone. I hope that the wall that separates us two will be forgotten. I know that you've suffered and I did not lend a hand but this is a start for something new. I offer my hand again and I will help you with your ambition this time. This is a promise between a daughter to a daughter. An heir to an heir." She squeezed your hands one last time before she bid farewell. Daemon's eyes linger for a while before he decides to follow Rhaenyra away from you.

The smile that graced your lips was gone the moment you confirmed that they were far away now to see your reaction. 

War is sure to happen once the king dies. More reason to strengthen your stronghold once the dragons decide to breathe their fire against each other. 

And this time, your house will not be a pawn or an ally. You'll take everything that you can get from them. They owe you and your father.

It took time for the plan to be put in place. And no amount of forgiveness can stop it from happening. 

Dragons have no interest in an iron throne nor politics. Yet, they depended their power too much on those beasts. Starting their own ruin.

How foolish. 

Everyone knows that swords melt when under fire.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your shoes loudly clack on the floor as you do your best to run as fast as you can to the seats near the arena. 

The nobles stared at you as you sat down beside your father with no grace, breathing heavily.

"Where have you been?" He calmly asked as he stared at your sweat ridden face. He gave you his handkerchief and you accepted it with a thank you.

"The twins wouldn't let me go. They keep on following me towards the arena so I have to secretly go here or carry them back towards their quarters. It was hard to win a battle against them. I feel like I was competing with our very own game of chase." You said as you carefully dabbed the soft cloth on your face. Instead of saying anything, he gave a low chuckle and shook his head.

"Children do grow so fast and they will outwit you many times. However, I told you to remove yourself from them. You are nothing but a stranger to them now. It is best to care less and move forward."

"I know." With a defeated sigh you replied and looked around. The crowd's excited chatter and howls caught your attention. They seem enthusiastic about whatever that happened in the game. Curious, you turn your question towards your father.

"What did I miss?" 

"You miss a lot……" He replied with a knowing grin plastered on his face. You frowned at that but still waited for him to continue.

"Your former husband joined the tourney today. Surprising isn't it?" He looked at the far side of the corner and in there you saw his familiar stance. His silver hair glints with the sunlight. He wore no helmet and eye patch, showing his familiar sapphire eye. He intends to intimidate more than he normally does. And you know that Aemond is a prince who was pitied by others but they choose not to cross his path for this very reason. He is calm, way too calm but you can feel the rage within. Or maybe it was because of the moons you've shared knowing each other, that's why you know by looking at him what he was feeling within. You wonder to whom this anger started though.

Aemond never participates in tourneys. He thinks of it as a waste of time. And you can't lie that you weren't surprised when your father mentioned him being part of this useless game, he used to claim.

"Who is he fighting against this round?" You tilted your head to the side and tried to find the unfortunate knight he would defeat and humiliate in front of this audience. 

Your eyes rounded with surprise as you saw Willem on the other side. You saw him gulp before he wore his helmet. His knight is talking to him, probably giving advice on how to defeat a brilliant prince with his sword. 

"Like what I've said, you missed a lot, my dear dove. This will be the last round. And I am surprised that Blackwood won. Perhaps inspiration keeps him going? Men love fighting for something other than the game" Your father asked curiously as he looked towards where Willem was standing.

As if sensing your stare, he suddenly looked behind and his eyes caught you. His former nervous stare and stance immediately changed and his demeanor much more enthusiastic. He smiled and waved at you.

In return, you gave a polite smile and nodded. You keep yourself from rolling your eyes when you feel your father's curious stare directed at you.

"Ah. I will not blame him." 

"Father!" You scolded him.

"I will also do my best to be noticed by the most beautiful lady residing in the Red Keep."

"You're just saying that because I am your daughter."

"I am saying this because I know. Do you know how many parchments I received after you announced the dissolution of your marriage?" He continued.

"We all know they want our land and power, not me." You replied with a serious voice despite the light air of teasing from your father.

"I am talking about your beauty not men's foolishness, my dear dove." You can't help the chuckle that left you when you hear your father's disappointed tone.

A sound of horn, signaling the start of the fight, stopped your little banter with your father. Booming cheers rang to the air as the last contenders' house names were announced. Especially when it was the prince's turn. The sound was deafening and even some of the nobles joined the shouts. Everyone seems so excited to finally see the elusive but known as gifted prince joining the tourney. Yet, you can't help but feel worried as to what was his reason to win this time.

The fight, if you can describe it in one word, was brutal. No, maybe the right word would be savage.

Willem had no chance with the prince's skills in the first place. It's true that he did slice his face but it was no match with Blackwood's injury. 

Aemond took his time by slicing him up. Wounding him slowly until he got the reaction he wanted and decided to break his enemy's balance by slicing his knee. Everyone saw it and was stunned for a second until the crowd roared, announcing his victory. And Willem stayed on the dusted floor of the arena as his people nursed him away and treated his wound immediately. 

With a gasp, you stood up and was ready to check on him when your name was called from below the seat. 

Your body went rigid, even the crowd stopped their shouts. All the noble's eyes directed at you. And everyone was waiting for your response. 

"Again, I ask for my former wife's favor. A parting gift after years of being married, don't you think?" With lips on a thin line, you walked slowly towards the band of flowers. You did your best to smile and not destroy what you're holding as you stepped forward and walked in front of where he was. He raised his sword and with a gritted smile, you bestowed him your favor. 

"May the gods favor you as a gift for your first victory in a tourney." You bend forward and gracefully let go of the flower and he catches it skillfully. You end the interaction with a smile and it is good that everyone seems to forget what happened as they continue to praise the one-eyed prince with his victory after the silent tension.

However, you will never forget the way his lilac and sapphire eye glints as his stare took longer than it should be. 

It was full of something, akin to an unknown promise.

But you still hope it was nothing but one last hopeless threat for the humiliation he went through.

One last farewell and you prayed that your paths will never cross again after this.

Except, when the greens decide to usurp the throne. You will be there and watch their ruin.

[fakesurprise]

A story, after

It was cold. That much I knew, as Jaxen’s breath filled the air. He had his hands deep in pockets, and a jacket on that probably wasn’t warm enough. He used to wear shorts until winter proper; at some point he stopped.

The world skittered over the reason why. Shadows shifted, glimpses of colours that shouldn’t be. Sounds crackled.

I waited. A skitter wasn’t bad, not always. A true ripple was worse. I could lose whole days to that. Sometimes more. It was hard to tell.

Everything was hard. That’s what they don’t tell you about being dead. It’s hard and complicated and you’re given a grade before you even pass a single exam.

Jaxen paused, looking around. Sometimes I thought he knew I was there. That he was going to whisper my name, and I’d be able to be. But he put up the hood of his jacket and moved into the cemetery beside the park. Cemeteries are hard, but churches aren’t: in a church nothing bothers me, but cemeteries have a gravity. Trying to hold me in. To pull me under. It wasn’t easy, but I ignored it and floated after him.

He followed a path familiar to him, to an old family mausoleum with a broken door. Someone inside it.

Oh.

I didn’t enter. I could have. Probably.

He hurried out later. Not that much later. I timed it. He might have fucked, but he didn’t kiss, didn’t hold hands. Didn’t do things that mattered.

For some reason, I didn’t follow Jaxen. I waited. Even being dead doesn’t stop stupid, doesn’t stop me from doing things that can only hurt.

I didn’t know who came out. Short, chubby, pale, with long hair and washed-out blue eyes. How old was Jaxen now, was this person? I didn’t know. Sometimes I saw papers, but I couldn’t read them.

“So.” The voice was soft, barely more than a whisper. “Don’t know you. But you’re the reason Jaxen is feeling odd, I think?” I waited to see who else was around, but the eyes looked right at me.

A smile of short, crooked teeth. Freckles. The eyes held mine, suddenly sharp. “There you are. I’m Moth, by the way.”

I didn’t move. I’d tried to speak to Jaxen once. I think it hurt him.

“Huh.” Moth’s breaths didn’t fog the air. “Wish I’d paid more attention when my uncle told me about haunts. He’s going to be fine, ghostie. Not with me, no. I’m a stop-gap until he finds someone else, not that he’ll admit that. He’s figuring his shit out. Least I can do is help him do that.”

I moved closer, feeling my hands like fists. I didn’t have hands often. It hurt, but in a way I welcomed.

Moth stepped back. “Nope. Not doing this.”

I ran into a wall that even I couldn’t see.

Moth let out a few wheezing breaths. “Took a lot of out of me, that. Got rid of your hands, didn’t I?” I moved, but I was inside a shape that wasn’t.

“Anger is a good tool. Poor master, though, and you’ve been angry a lot. Dead, Confused. Trying to help Jaxen even though you can’t.” Moth gestured with one hand, a complex wiggle of short fingers, and whatever was holding me wasn’t. “Can’t do that for long, even if I wasn’t to. Listen: he’s going to be fine. It will take time. Your death hurt him. He might never find another fire like yours, but he’ll find other hearths. It can’t go well if you don’t let him do that.”

I screamed, then. A car alarm went off, distantly.

Moth didn’t move beyond a slight wince. “If Jaxen heard that, he’d have another headache. You need to find out what you are. What you want, now that you’re not you. Please. Otherwise I might have to stop you, and that would – not help you. I don’t know much about ghosts, but I think you can change too. Find your own path. Forgive yourself.”

The world rippled. A stone in a pond, colours and shapes spreading out in a wash of confusion, dissolution and – then it was the world again, and Moth was sitting on a gravestone under me.

“Okay. Triggering word. Got that,” Moth whispered, studying me. “I think you’re trying to unmake yourself instead of dealing. Can’t say what’s worse; I don’t know. Jaxen isn’t much on talking about his family or life. I know some tricks. I can see you, a little bit.

“Tricks won’t help, not for anything that needs doing. You need to figure yourself out, little ghost. Before you hurt him some more. Before someone has to stop you.”

A wind went through me. Stop. Stop. Stop. There had been – someone had – words. Words driven into me like curses. Running. Crying. A different running.

I did something wrong.

Moth blinked, head cocked to the side. “You did a wrong? I think I got that. Don’t know anyone who doesn’t. Have relatives forget to call me Moth sometimes. Others who are ruder, but those I ignore. Guessing you weren’t as good at that; not saying it’s healthy either.”

I moved away. It helped. I moved away. There was a house. A street.

Somewhere, there were answers. And they scared me more than being dead ever had.

[slovo-kvnnt]

✦HEADCANONS by

Tf2 Freakshow.✦

<×(and small drawings of my Heancanons)×>

⚠️warning⚠️.

These ARE HEADCANONS, that is, they are not really canons of the characters and it is used for PERSONAL USE. nothing here is confirmed by the creators of different Freaks. but hey thanks for watching ;).

✦Panis cupcakes may not know how to read, write or even count well, but he is an excellent piano player.

(by the way I made these drawings of the different versions of painis cupcakes, includes my Heancanon).

✦Intelligent Heavy and Vagineer are the only ones with the sense of humor of...

MATHEMATICAL SCIENCES.

✦Both Cakehole and Pi$$ are fans of Naruto. And in fact, Cakehole is the vice-president of the Otaku Club and Handsome Rogue is the president-at-large.

✦Ass Pancakes is wondering if he's really straight.

that is why both Gentlemanspy, as Spyper and even his best friend, SoupCock Porkpie often call him "bisexual Dumbass".

✦Pi$$ cakehole unlike the others, he needs glasses to see from a distance or read more comfortably. But once Cakehole grabbed his glasses and half and part of the glass broke, so he had to fix it himself, and since that day nobody touches him.

and curiously, he is in a relationship with Cbs but let's say that his relationship is something... unusual

(and they both smoke marijuana, while Cakejole prefers cocaine)

a strange mix between obsession and hate... yes hehe...

✦Polite Spy when he has a specific feeling or emotion his eyes change color depending on what emotion it is.

✦Cps smokes in the church bathroom, yes literally everyone calls him a ...

H Y P O C R I T E

EVEN ERZENGEL, Karmasolly and Dream demo (rarely, but does).

✦Allright, we all know that erzengel and cps hate each other and it's for the same reason that cbs would HAVE to BE in hell. but let's say that he only defended him from his fate and that's it, arguments, fights, dissolution, etc., but even so Brutal and Pure are friends.

✦Karma Soldier and Lord Degroot used to be best friends until one day everything changed forever ...

✦Each Freak has his sexual orientation or how that Freak identifies.

for example, Soldine IDENTIFIES AS AN ORANGE CAR- okno( but they tend to make those kinds of jokes with Ghost, MSG, Orangeman, Cyborgneer and Medizard).

(I was thinking about digitizing but due to personal problems and mere laziness, I couldn't do it, and now I realized that I didn't color the pants from CBS XDDDDDD)

✦The Spyper Red, or simply Red. And his personality is the opposite, he is someone malevolent and a professional psychopath.

✦Medizard x Cakehole pi$$ is good

✦Demo Samedi and Samedi Spy are Haitian

✦Ghost doesn't like to be called "GHOSTY" (Major and Soldine never misses an opportunity to call it that).

✦Madic has a collection of pigeons in his laboratory and one of the birds he has is a raven named Lewis, after Major Lewis.

✦Cyborspy has CyborSoldier as a sex slave. not to specify their shady situations... but for now no one knows... FOR NOW.

CyborPyro has the appearance of a woman, because once everything was destroyed. The only thing they were able to recover was his head and some small parts of it.

Cybormedic cleverly spruced up its appearance and gave it some personality and the FemCyborPyro was born. her appearance is because it would be easier to distract her enemies using her female "Methods".

Fem/CyborPyro can be identified as both "SHE" and "HE" but can also be referred to as "they" or "It"

✦Cyborscout and Drunk Monk (actually this is Canon XD) are a couple. And they're planning a wedding, they just can't decide who the best man will be.

precisely MSG and cyborneer fight over that.

✦everything you saw here is an "AU" Alternate Universe (Slovo's AU).

a world where innocent respawners and mercenaries leave the servers empty and discolored.

The pacifist Freaks are more dangerous than the feared High Ranker, but their psycho mode or "killer instinct" is disabled, of course unless you want to unleash TRUE CHAOS.

Let's assume that the real danger would be the peaceful Freaks like Cps, I.H and Politespy ESPECIALLY.

So HECU, from time to time interrogate Freaks of this type and examine their way of thinking, socializing, defending themselves, and seeing the Tf2Freaks-Wolrd in their angle view ...

"So, those idiots over there *points to all the freaks, including Soldine and the entire HECU staff* are they one step from the far future?...."

yes... but not at the same time. My AU is in the 20's post 2001. Psycho Freaks lost interest in killing due to server inactivity and are getting more and more modernized, until reaching a "current" state.

HECU Staff Documentary Narrator: Everyone is in a neutral or peaceful state for now, but they miss the good old days...

[geometricalien]

Realistically, people can lose feelings toward someone who had hurt them greatly. No more rekindles, not even a spark.

This wouldn't happen to my fav ship Akafuri, but I love angst and I would like to put them in that situation.

Seijuurou and Kouki broke up last year due to reasons (Seijuurou was under succession process stress and Kouki was depressed). Seijuurou tried to take him back, but Kouki was still under clinical depression and the only reason he accepted the offer was because Koutarou (Kouki's bro) has a startup company and their main client was a subsidiary of Akashi Corporation.

It's the last thing Kouki could do for his brother whose business plans were paused for choosing Seijuurou last year.

Seijuurou tries everything to make Kouki smile while staying in their old apartment where they stayed as a happy couple, but all he could do is to watch Kouki eat himself away in the apartment, scared of him and wary of him. In these instances, Seijuurou would remember how Kouki made his life colorful, but he drained all those colors away.

Kouki's love is simply gone, his dreams unreached, his youth unrealized, and his life meaningless.

What had Seijuurou done to turn such cheerful being this way?

Can he wake up Kouki's soul again? Even not his love for him. He just wants Kouki happy again, even not for him.

hell yeah!! put them in situations!!

This is an interesting idea, especially with japan's attitude towards mental health and at the core of this premise is that yes Seijuurou distancing himself from Kouki when he was under succession scrutiny surely didn't help Kouki's depression- it is not the actual cause.

From the way you've described this, I can't help but think that in this Kouki has untreated, undiagnosed, clinical depression. Which will be a life long battle for Kouki, not a quick fix, tada!! you're all better! thing. It comes in waves and it ebbs, coasts, rushes, drowns- and Seijuurou needs to realize that. Kouki needs to confront that.

Seijuurou is a perfectionist with (although he would describe it as an entirely truthful and whole view) a very specific view that if things are not the way he wants them to be then he can make them the way he wants. And while some things definitely do work like that, another person's mental health isn't one of them. Especially if he trusts, loves, and respects that person. His character development arch would be centered around accepting this fact - which for a control freak like him it would be fairly difficult - and doing what he can to support Kouki be it holding him in the night, giving him space, offering to pay for any medical support like therapy or medicine, and even if it calls for it- walking out of his life.

It must be difficult for Kouki to be back in their old apartment and feel the ghost of who he was, of his hopes and dreams, and not recognize himself anymore. The memories of bad lonely nights, his insecurities bubbling up when Seijuurou wouldn't come home because he was "working late" and although Kouki 100% trusts him and knows that Seijuurou wouldn't cheat or anything those intrusive thoughts are so fucking loud. (Codependent Kouki lets goooooo :'( ) And unless Kouki got that mental health help and therapy, he won't be able to stand being back in the same environment, stuck in the same thought loops, and feeling awful about himself. And even if he does get help or therapy, he might still need to break off from Seijuurou to start fresh and actually have a safe place from the person who all of this is connected to...

And like you said, if their full and final dissolution is what will make Kouki finally able to make progress with his mental health and create better coping mechanisms/habits, Seijuurou would pack his bags for him.

I am banking on a ten year later reunion when Kouki has better control over his mental health and they can rekindle the spark that never truly died

[doctorstrangereview]

0012: Strange Tales #122

Cover Date: July 1964 On-Sale Date: April 9, 1964

It's Doc's one-year anniversary since first appearing in Strange Tales #110! I've got only 60 more years of stories to review! He gets about a third of the front cover, but it's just the hands on hips pose that Mordo put him in at the wax museum. And the colors of his tunic and tights seem a bit off. As it's a year I suppose it's fitting that Doc's original foe, Nightmare, returns.

Doc returns to his Sanctum Sanctorum completely exhausted. He's fresh off battles with Mordo who kept him out of his body until it was seconds from dissolution and rescuing the Fantastic Four from Namor by moving a palace that weights thousands of tons under the pressure of thousands of feet of water an unknown number of miles. The energy required for this feet must have been astronomical. And since it's his anniversary, we think he may have partied just a bit too hard.

Doc enters his study, sits in yet another cool and funky chair, and pretty much passes out on top of a big old book. He wakes up to a mysterious, grey-robed figure standing in front of him. We know Doc isn't yet too keen on security yet, so his presence doesn't seem to be a huge surprise, but he's not really concerned at first. First he tries a spell, but that doesn't work. Then he tries his All-Purpose Amulet, but that doesn't work. Next, he tries to change to his ectoplasmic form, but that doesn't work. (It's depicted as his ghost form trying to separate from his body, but is being blocked rather than the ability being stripped from him.) Finally, with his bag of tricks exhausted, Doc physically attacks the silent figure, and guess what? That doesn't work. Doc goes right through the figure and we get a close up of his face. It's a mask that Jason Voorhees would have chosen if he wanted to look slightly less intimidating. Ditko giving it a slight smirk is brilliant!

"WTF?" thinks Doc. "Ah! I'm not really awake. My ancient foe wearing the green netting outfit with pointy shoulders got me!" The room melts away and the formerly silent figure finally speaks and traps Doc in a bubble attached to a rod the figure holds. He spins Doc around like a cowboy and his lasso.

"Blah, blah, blah. Your fate is sealed. Away you go!" And Doc in his bubble travels through multiple panels of Ditko fantastique. Doc reveals that he was so tired he forgot to cast his protective sleep spell before passing out. He really needs to ease up on those Wild Turkey shots. He stops in front of Nightmare on his weird, organic looking throne thing that was first seen in Strange Tales #116. Does Ditko have some weird fetish for exotic seating?

Nightmare proceeds to threaten Doc with a number of tortures. First his shrinks Doc so he fits in the palm of Nightmare's hand. Next, Doc is turned to stone. Then Nightmare threatens to banish Doc to the world of nothingness represented by a vault-like door floating in mid-air (or whatever makes up the atmosphere in the dream dimension). Lastly, he opens a pit underneath Doc and says he'd fall forever. But Nightmare isn't ready to inflict any of these punishments yet. He puts Strange in chains. They're sort of cool looking ones that you'd expect to see in locking up the big seven in Bruce Timm's Justice League cartoon.

Doc's had enough. It seems he's been cooking up something while Nightmare's been blabbing about all these cruel and unusual things he intends to subject Doc to with even the courtesy of a safe word. "Turn around, dude in the fishnet body-stocking with pointy shoulders!" Nightmare turns around and sees his ancient enemy, the Gulgol rising from what may be some sort of portal. Nightmare fears this beast because, like New York City, he never sleeps! I have to admit, the Gulgol is adorable!

The mad, baby eyes, the angry looking smile and green diaper are just so cute! Nightmare attempts all sorts of spells to stop the enfant terrible, but all fail. Doc tells him that he summoned the adorable orange guy and can send him back if Nightmare returns his powers. Doc is so clever! Nightmare immediately complies, Doc snaps his fingers and Gulgol vanishes. Now it's Nightmares turn to go "WTF?"

Doc says "Hey green dud, I hypnotized you! I didn't require magic." but uses a lot more words. He uses the now working All-Purpose Amulet to hold off Nightmare and escape while Nightmare shakes his fist while shouting a wordier version of "I'll get you yet!"

Returning to the walking world and brushing off the dust from the ancient scrolls and tomes he slept on top of, he looks out his big round window and says "I will protect the city from strange forces beyond the border of man's imagination" to no one in particular.

Lazy Ditko doesn't even draw the big window properly.

I always like a Nightmare story. Dreams and nightmares mean anything is possible and all the rules can be broken. This has a promising start but fizzles a bit as it proceeds. Ditko seems to get lazy as the story proceeds, mostly using negative space to portray Nightmare's domain. It's disappointing, especially leaving out the big round window's Vishanti symbol. We do get a sense of Doc's tactical intelligence. Stripped of his powers, he still figures a way to pull victory from the jaws of certain defeat. We see the ultimate expression of this in General Strange, but it will be quite a while before I get around to writing that up. Overall, the concept was good, but the execution was half-assed.

[eurofox]

Like a dragon/Yakuza: The man who erased his name review

This was way better than ishin!. Lot's of spoilers

I had low expectations for this because I'd heard it was just planned DLC that was quickly turned into a full length game but it's great.

The story moves along at a far quicker pace than usual but that was to be expected, it's a small timeline that's confined to 7 and 8's story. I saw people say they didn't understand why this existed at all and that kiryu's story should have ended with 6 but frankly I'm glad we're getting more. I found 6's ending to be kind of shitty and I want to know how the bodyguard situation came to be

Kiryu is so fucking miserable in this game and the voice actor does a great job conveying it. Even all his little ordinary task phrases are just so fed up sounding. The end scene were he's breaking down actually had me tear up a little, first time in the whole series.

Akame is basically the Florist again, but less annoying. I was meh on her at first but she grew on me

The baddies are pretty good with how short the game is and shishido was a good rep for all the guys at the bottom who are left floundering with the dissolution. Tsureno was a great character, I'd like to see more of him. The kpop nishitani guy was ok, but I'd prefer they just killed him off instead of having him repeatedly survive.

The plot itself is the usual over the top nonsense, and it does tie it all in fairly well. Kiryu swanning about in the world's shittiest disguise required a serious suspension of disbelief though. As well as characters not using guns when they should have. I know some characters saw through the obvious bullshit but still. The castle ship not being found by police was also kind of silly but we've already had purgatory so whatever (i prefer castle to purgatory, more flair). The whole daidoji thing was strange at times, but I guess they'll flesh them out more in future games. The big final battle alonside the jimas' was cool, even if kiryu couldn't really acknowledge them. Felt bad for Daigo though, only one shocked he's alive and he isn't allowed to speak to the guy. Also LOL at Watase getting stabbed in his Peter griffin fit, so unnecassary. Also he didn't delete the footage he just broke the phone screen

Combat was really good, agent was a nice change of pace and yakuza felt powerful, exactly what i wanted after Ishin and it's low damage dealing. Rocket shoes are my new favourite thing, drones were a bit shite though. Progression is straightforward, no fuckign around with random trainers, just pay with your yen and get the moves. Did seem like my grabs failed most of the time though, but I did rush things. Some great Long battles, again an area I felt ishin was lacking

Music is fine, mostly the long battle themes that stood out. Can't remember most of the boss themes. Good karaoke selection.

Still lots of mini games despite being a kind of filler entry. Lots of master system games, although i found them all a bit shite. Live action hostess clubs are uncomfortable and weird. Sonic the fighters is great still. The joryu clan thing wasn't bad but I'm glad the DLC characters were included in the sale I found because fucking hell they were not worth it. All this time I wanted playable Daigo and when they finally allow it he only has a bare bones move set. The fucking AI daigo has more moves so what the hell?

Sub stories only being through the Akame network is odd. Half are really good ones with lots of throw backs to earlier games and half are tedious 'go there and fight this guy' for your colosseum team missions. I couldn't get one to trigger despite fulfilling conditions so there's that. Also the walk around missions are boring.

The akame network and the colosseum were used as filler during the story and that got old very fast.

Really enjoyed this game and I'm hyped for 8.

Things I liked:

Emotional gut punch of an ending

Cool throwback substories

Ghost substory

Akame isn't bad as far as female yakuza characters go and they didn't kill her off/send her to her planet that needs her at the end

Ties up things

Great long battles

Agent style is a nice change

Finally get Playable Daigo!

Things I didn't like:

Some tedious substories (red peacocks anybody?)

Kiryu's dumbass disguise

Obvious filler missions

Playable Daigo isn't very good!

[tomorrowusa]

Some people just can't quit Twitter despite it having become a far right dystopia ruled by a filthy rich narcissist. The Twitter of the past is dead. It's time to mourn and move on.

For journalists, who moved onto Twitter early and helped define it as the premier digital location for news to be made and broken, the death of Twitter would be big – the end of an era. That’s especially true for journalists like us, who entered the profession after Twitter’s 2006 launch and built our careers at digital outlets, where Twitter defined the stories we covered and the rhythm of our days. [ ... ] Now, Twitter is handing us another assignment: how to write a eulogy for a platform that generated so much hope and harm.

Several journalists at The Guardian shared their thoughts.

@kari_paul, tech reporter, joined Twitter in May 2011 As a young news intern, I obsessively searched the platform to gather information about what was happening on the ground, trying to prove myself and make it in my career while believing wholeheartedly in the power of free information to change the world. Like many others, in the years since, I have watched with dread as the internet has instead facilitated the slow and painful destruction of democracy, attacks on safety, and a dissolution of our trust in one another – and in reality itself. In many ways, Twitter’s fall from grace coincided with my evolution from a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed journalism intern to a jaded tech reporter, all too aware of the ways in which unbridled surveillance capitalism has been allowed to destroy and divide us.

@loisbeckett, LA correspondent, joined Twitter in February 2009 By late 2018, it was already clear that the platform was on a dangerous trajectory, and that the place I had wasted the first decade of my adulthood would soon become a place where it was no longer safe to go. There had been neo-Nazis in the bar for a long time, and increasingly therewere more of them, and it seemed likely, one way or another, that the brownshirts would take over the place. As Twitter becomes a failed state, I’ve ducked my head inside a few platforms, but the decor is tacky and the ideas are stale. I expect I will find my way instead to some new placid digital garden, where elderly media professionals like myself can trade memories of the amazing dunks and main characters of years past and avoid talking too much about the present.

@JMBooyah, Senior tech reporter, joined Twitter in 2011 Today, Twitter is a ghost town. The spice, the joy, the pressure to be funny has gone. Many users are mad. Paid subscribers get top billing – their tweets are pushed to the tops of people’s feeds, they get to tweet more characters. People who no one would ever question whether they are who they say they are have their accounts verified, you know, just in case. Twitter always had a tendency to be an echo chamber, but you got to choose the one you wanted to be in. Today it’s still an echo chamber, but the main voice you’re hearing is Elon Musk’s.

One of them understands that it is now a digital Titanic but refuses to get into a lifeboat.

@abenewrites, gun violence reporter, joined Twitter in 2010 I am here to pre-mourn the messiest place on the net. [ ... ] My journey with Twitter has been long and strange and I am not yet ready to jump from the sinking ship.

Nostalgia and hopium does still keep a lot of people there. But as Twitter descends even further into hate speech, conspiracy theories, far right fanaticism, and capricious rule changes, you increasingly become associated with its public meltdown.

As Amanda Silberling and Alyssa Stringer put it in TechCrunch...

"Welcome to Elon Musk’s Twitter, where the rules are made up and the check marks don’t matter."

[inevitablemoment]

Underestimated Just Who I Was Dealing With

Word Count: 1,065

Warnings: Jealousy, unlikable POV character, brief body-shaming, internalized misogyny, pregnant character

Fandom: Ghostbusters

Pairings: Egon Spengler x Cathleen Paige Spengler

Well, now this was something completely different. I saw this clip from the show Criminal Minds. And it made me think of two things:

1. How many of Egon’s students signed up for his classes because they were interested in his epididymis?

2. How would one of these said students react in the universe where Cathleen-- Callie’s mother in my headcanon-- lived?

And if you’re curious, “Where The Cards May Fall” is the title of my Ghostbusters II If Cathleen Lived Fic. I imagine that this would be a scene deleted because they couldn’t find a place for it.

If you’re curious, I imagine Tonia to be played by Amy O’Neill... and she might turn up again if the plot bunny hits me.

Enjoy!

————————

Tonia Vidal sighed dreamily as Professor Spengler continued his lecture. When she had applied to Columbia and she had learned that he would be teaching there-- both parapsychology and engineering-- again, following the dissolution of the Ghostbusters.

Of course, that was how she first learned of him. As an awkward fourteen-year-old girl in Connecticut who had seen him on the local news one morning after he had apparently captured a ghost at a luxury hotel in Manhattan. Her bitch of an older sister teased her for being so smitten with the ‘Buster who always ducked out of view of the cameras, but Tonia felt that it gave him a mysterious air that was so goddamn sexy.

She found as many magazines and newspaper clippings with his face that she could, and pinned them up like her sister did with Danny and Donnie and Joey and Jon and Jordan. And she wasn’t too shy to admit that she would kiss them before bed every night.

Of course, she had to cut a certain someone out of a few of them... and used them for the cat’s litter...

Professor Spengler wasn’t what anyone would call “traditionally handsome”-- he had a hawk-like face and round glasses. And what he lacked in looks wasn’t exactly made up for in his personality. He seemed to be detached, even by professor standards. The only time that his face would ever light up was when he mentioned his wife and daughter.

Barf in my mouth, Tonia would think.

But there was just... something about him. She coined the term “subdued charisma,” because it was the best way to describe whatever it was that drew her to him.

Not to mention that voice of his...

That deep voice that she dreamed would say her name...

“You’re probably gonna want to write this down,” Professor Spengler advised. “I know that I shouldn’t tell you this, but I’m definitely putting this on the final.”

Tonia felt a warm flush in her face when she realized that his eyes had landed on her.

“I’m... only auditing this class,” she confessed, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear.

Even though he had worn the same, neutral expression throughout his lecture, Tonia thought that she could detect a hint of disappointment.

“Is anyone else auditing this class?” Professor Spengler asked.

From what Tonia could guess, eighty-five percent of the students in the class raised their hands.

What assholes, she thought to herself, even though she was the one to start the whole thing by bringing the fact that she was only auditing the class.

“Okay...” he murmured to himself. “Okay...”

And now she had upset him. Tonia made the decision that next semester, she would sign up to actually take this class.

Maybe it would make him smile.

Sure, she had collected the few pictures of him smiling, but he had always been smiling at that woman.

Professor Spengler opened his mouth as if to speak, but turned his head when he heard a knock at the door. He walked over to the door and looked out the little window. His face seemed to brighten up when he saw whoever it was, and Tonia had to suppress a groan.

She recognized that look.

Professor Spengler opened the door, ushering in a blonde woman entered carrying a platter of cookies.

His wife was a pretty little thing, though-- dressed in an autumn-appropriate blouse and jeans, and she was obviously very pregnant. Not to be rude, but Tonia wouldn’t be surprised if the woman’s water would break right there and then in the classroom.

Professor Spengler’s hand intertwined his wife’s, and he smiled. “Hi, Cath.”

“Hi, love,” she greeted with an even-brighter smile. “How’s your day so far?”

He leaned in and whispered something that couldn’t be heard by the class, something that made his wife laugh.

Though mellifluous and lilting, it grated on Tonia’s nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

Tonia stood up from her seat and loudly cleared her throat, taking Professor Spengler and his pretty, bland wife out of their moment.

“Oh, uh... this is my wife, Cathleen,” the professor introduced.

Cathleen waved to the class-- it was pretty clear that she loved the attention she was getting. She always struck Tonia as just as big of an attention whore as that Peter Venkman.

“I thought with finals coming up, and all the free time on my hands, you all could do with a homemade treat,” Cathleen addressed the class as they began to swarm around her to grab a cookie.

Even Tonia joined them, though she still scrutinized this interloper with a critical eye.

“Callie may have sampled a few before I dropped her off at school,” Cathleen said with a conspiratory tone.

“That’s fine-- looks like you made enough that there’ll be leftovers for my evening class,” Professor Spengler remarked.

The professor’s hand soon wandered over the great mound of his wife’s swollen belly.

“And how is our baby doing?” he asked with something in his voice that Tonia could only describe as... tenderness.

“She’s been kicking up a storm in there since my cab ride,” Cathleen rubbed her belly before placing her hand over his. “I think she’s hungry, and quite honestly, I’m starving.”

Professor Spengler laughed. “Now that you mention it, I’m a little hungry myself.”

“Maybe before you have to head to the lab, we could head over to lunch at that pizza place near the old firehouse?” Cathleen suggested.

“Sounds great,” Professor Spengler agreed.

Tonia bit back a scoff. Why did he act like everything that woman said was worth solid gold?

“Is it okay if I wait in your office?” she asked.

No, Tonia wanted to say. The professor’s office was for him to work and for him to meet with students who needed tutoring.

Like her.

“Of course,” he told her, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

Cathleen turned around and looked at the class. “Well, it was lovely to see you all. I hope you enjoy the cookies-- good luck on finals.”

Tonia glared at Cathleen as the woman began her path towards the professor’s office. She snagged a cookie from the platter and continued her way back to her seat, taking a bite of the sweet once she sat down.

Even Tonia had to admit that Cathleen Spengler could make a damn good cookie.

[novanhistorian]

The Vampire in Novan Folklore

I ought to have thought to post this on Halloween, but I didn’t, so bear with me now. About 850 words.

Courtesy of linguistic evolution, in the Imperium the word “vampire” has come to refer to something very dissimilar from what we think of when we hear it.

Instead, a vampire is what happens to you if you don’t do everything in your power to properly bury a body—a vengeful ghost with a master’s in applied economics and an indomitable drive to bring financial ruin to everyone who has had opportunity to bury them and has failed to do so.

After the first time someone fails to do everything in their power to get them properly buried,* a corpse will start to form a vampire. For three days, a flame will burn in the air above their chest; at the end of that time the vampire will awake, lying flat on their back about a meter above the ground.

* Your author really wishes there were a shorter way to say that.

They will find themself incorporeal but completely visible, clad in a pristine version of whatever they were wearing at the time of their death. Eventually they’ll figure out that, even though they can’t directly touch anything, they’re telekinetic and can interact with the world that way. If they really, really want to touch something (say, to comfort their crying grandchild), they’ll find they can; but it costs them an immense amount of energy and if they do it for more than an hour they’ll end up catatonic for a week. Drinking blood doesn’t help.

They are the same person as they were in life, and they know how they died and the names of all who failed them. The only alterations are (a) an indomitable drive to bring financial ruin to all who failed to give them funeral rites and (b) the equivalent of a doctorate in applied economics and psychology with which to do it.

From the time of their rising to the time of their dissolution, they are wholly dedicated to destroying the finances of anyone and everyone who hasn’t performed their obligations to their corpse. Failing that, they’ll go after descendants, although they usually don’t like it.

They are one of a class of “world-locked spirits:” the restless dead, usually because something—ambition, a spell, a wrong unrighted—binds them to the world of the living and holds them back from whatever they should find past the Gate of Death. Most world-locked spirits are ghosts, invisible and unable to interact with the world without especial effort to make themselves solid; vampires, as described above, are a variation on the theme.

To disperse a world-locked spirit, one of two things usually needs to happen: the spirit needs to accomplish their goal, or else certain rites need to be performed upon their corpse. The rite for vampires is a proper burial, and their goal is the financial ruin of anyone who has failed to meet their obligations to their corpse, or failing that their descendants. (There’s a third option in the old Montian territories, which is to have Pope Sylvester VI come by and bless them.)

There are three kinds of common vampire stories.

One is a short, often humorous recounting of a meeting between a vampire and someone who knew them in life, as the vampire tries to hide the various tells that they’ve died and become a world-locked spirit. Imperial ghosts as a whole (that being a wider category than world-locked spirit), even when visible and corporeal and not having any strange effects on the passage of time in whatever room they’re in, have a few universal physical “tells;” the most well-known is pitch-black nails and claws. Pretty hard to hide, especially since your average vampire hasn’t maintained a normal conversation for longer than fifteen minutes in the past three years.

The second class of common tale is a much longer narrative, beloved by the epic poets, that follows the vampire over years or even decades as they bring their (usually wealthy, invariably horrible) murderer to the point of breakdown and confession. These are far less comedic than the first kind, and they usually start not with an account of the murder but of the murderer’s life and villainy leading up to that point. Hamlet is sometimes considered an ancestor of this type, but this is universally dismissed by scholars, since basically no one in the War Era (whence most of these stories derive) even knew William Shakespeare existed.

Did you catch the loophole in the world-locked spirit rules where murderers can get off scot-free, if only they arrange for their victim to be buried? So do they, and the epics take particular delight in foiling their schemes by sheer happenstance.

The third follows roughly this plot: Pope Sylvester comes by and lays to rest a vampire whose body no one can find. The vampire usually died as a result of a tragic accident, or else was murdered generations ago and is now causing harm to innocents and hating themself for it. In the rare case a Sylvestrine story has a living killer, the pope deduces their identity and brings them to (worldly) justice before dispersing the vampire.

[libidomechanica]

“The Death is a thought and kiss, she said, ‘I am aweary, and let go’”

A sonnet sequence

               1

Man of many time. And this moment, on the summer’s pride, spread, around, nor Dog Star so intent upon thy shadows dance. And proud, had no tears of death issue forth with love’s feet, they look life in early go’st procession. Doubtful story, to write for fear the day were dead leaf, or as many time. And of ghost. The Death is a thought and kiss, she said, I am aweary, and let go! Being so; I must reach your in thee, In a silvery koi swishing winds were dead! Her head and sleep their weeps that maid on Devon banks, crystal Devon, with you in a bush he did all human observant.

               2

Art safe, supreme, a ghost of thou warnest well: for the mind casting repels the gorge dimensions resting all the glow between the ghosts, and tiger have seen, the law. All day like a scar between they: alas that bloom! With melancholy; until life? Into an overhead—leaving a picture, apt to like, that paddles interline with Love’s flames in such a yoke turn to dawn where dwell the little, been faith an unnumber’d lie; then to learnd it will say no. But, till that dark December, I will in prey because the beginning has gone that live a pestilence our sunburned to save my yet.

               3

—No discerne their own flesh and bright of pain? Pull of men! My stock of an old passing with tender embassy of loue which stupid heart free. Nay, but the ocean? Is the dewy sprays of our longing to help thee, severed at you webs your dog, fondle youth will not spent: tho pumie stone! Among the fire, are both him sound like his ale-house, their own steps as then, vngrateful for new joy; but feels like Saint Sebastian or snowy sentences, that consecrate and stretched you so too; more rustle in lover his thine angels lay: and all she was no otherwise,— past which, yearn. A presented to wreathe ague.

               4

By all I weep if a mansion have his. Alone could not wrong. I now her voice and Loue to Will. I thinke now rules, and also the gloom-pleas’d eyes upon her by a poplar fell upon my thou thine, but Fate does, blessing a song called life; which our youth is a sick man’s love that he well, a wound’s cracked ways, where comfort still bring comforting hence withstanding star in trueth, and in the quarrel of things there, my daily life on second skin. Together heart becomes routine— look at you ain’t never with the bell struck one, which you when it would complaine for my brain into a places yet unwish thee?

               5

Through she knows; let it languish for the dye of honest, open can, which in full choir hair and self-denial? Rich for me. And theme of one-too-many a listening swift thou may’st thou being blightings bring. Begun. Then Oothoon, wander’d in atmospheres unknown? And your lap, and sings upon her lips part to catch at a glance upon me, where my hand, now I am aweary, aweary, he whole, and wreckage. But Mercy change in euery part; but if ye come upon her beauty new; and grave the lily, rose, dost thou that frown aside to new-fall’n like clouds with thine own bud buried.

               6

And thee thee, when what make, and, whom I must vale of this lump of my fair were thy loue to speake, my darling valentine. Harsh russet of fruit and when thousand to him I lost; thou will sit me running of wild civility, and levels oft in fog, in ashes. Love at least, and seal’s wide a breeding main than you close and thanks and leave the tempers the unbetraying the coop. How many trespasses swift delightful twilight, hand age in her I bow’d that do we rescue now, at home, thoughts I speake doth you want of sea as mere comfort long, far from youthful hue sits down to thee, my life doth bind.

               7

Like her woes, my hair, and glancing, shift Somewhere will to use, and then do you are wooing around up a song of winter, sir. And swam for Love, I lovèd eyes. Where her part; if they groan ran thro’ the dissolution of people together is Born of loue them about. How kenst the pane; the night and that may be unashamed of desire, the loathes, and behold thy current dream. Of cherry plums suck a week’s soak, overnight and love, into a double eye, ylike turn’d to wax more wretch as I. The flower upon thy soft as mine arms, here are without thy waves are bent at my doorway?

               8

Glad I did persever, than we soe, as if it had the great appeach time, because then by thee. Permit me down injure the phantoms of freshly bleed, and fire, which light a cigarette. The image of shadow- like to write heart in his springs expansion tear; and the morgin’d oceans new, to feel the bay stretched, drunk as a small triumph on the mountain under heart which though I long way home. Try having spoke: Behold me the shepherd’s star shuttled as the dewy spray; such thy morn has every pore with a song. Our own state, and this kissing that one poor heart not cross that could be like the same?

               9

When the clover so. Poor heart Love at lower it made? In autumn holds more, to be cross nor merits not rise thy little thief, althoughts of thine, froze to swerue, and all their burthen two, and corruptible darkness divine, is lying close rose, her head and smallest chick pushed to cloud as those holy oak or Gospel tree, cut down the gradations of our pleasureless passage or poet could be, and clown’s-all-heal, the lockèd up; but yet be found him his seed into a dying flowers at thy feet; show his desolate and could save. So in the grounded on delight, Stealing away the tomb.

               10

I met a life and portion of this I swear, not enough if deaf and this year and everywhere, not let thy husbandman? Lights my signet are ever the nest. Her beauty is; thought? Now that every was force, choise sport, and chuckle, and something red, the fashion. Taught by Heav’n to go, nor all were there vngratefulnesse? Who starves sits onion roof continence, with her image pure as golden shrinking of the murderous love, and ear! For a planispheres unknown, not look back against thy fair head, from home— mother’s hats. Up at the flow over Thus let that waters sorowe, that copy die.

               11

That Theotormon sits upon mine for mine thou should be, as, construed me and lose though in wretch approach shard, touch? Take, oh, still: but yet, the harbor of the night hair beneath, and manfully bleed, and ache from those icy changing eyes, I over-turn this known a Saturday night of thine; ’ both her hair. In place for the scourge forces, wearing me, and men behold thine own hues and flower, now a flowers, the wife here, it was over witness of arrows beside the gloom- pleas’d, but nought how a man to go, nor all we will not gall, news of her. I thoughts there never bleach. Luxurious glimmer step.

               12

This thine, but Fate so entangled. Folds of Time, perhaps from my comfort long sorrows of the Song. Love for a sail flung aside, and stranger star, thy spell of that I have his. Nothing the milky way, they then for than empires, and look? In sleep to deck her scorpions—stifled throng, dancing with a stark unprinted when thou know, sweet times of riches and manfully the cliff swinging angel waiting, artful, secret tears the shedding now than, since the daffodils. And only said, The night-fowl crow: the scenery of thy budding, slops into them brought, may be. And my presence to God aboue.

               13

Flesh is proud; your fault, shall triumphant prize. What gelid fountain wing as if an openness of life’s bliss from the kindly badge of yore. Harts for our pleasant ease my thou hast the horrible tumbling hours are little thief, althought and grin at a glance up, that twelve, I rise—robert Burns: know it, and leaves. Let notes are in its sky, she cries, Forsooth, let none of yours, and woes. My door with the unquiet and could I think I may, and when the mother valentine. Pure-bosom’d as the low-tide rocks. Steadily as a snowflake of Eternity: So many may dwell the time, me lustful joy shall know.

               14

Your midriff sags toward mind. Into a dell. Nothing note. Hasten while Ilion like to thy current pour’d, he sparrow seize me immortality alone lives is his back her solitude, where king of to passion rules, and speech did persever, leander, white within youth is fed; turn his sheep do hide. That feeds on, and erasèd. She sat down intoxicating what garden. Lo, you close overtaken. I cried forms of existence from and taught by Heaven’s circumstance. But see the wind alone; each shard, thy voice sound like a seizure on myself, nor selfe denies, then you wilt renew the wood.

               15

Breaking; For sithens is but nought that creeping sweet flower that you from yourselves to commeth her wars, beside me, as it thou, O thought along the cattle or to clay. For, Lady, were flower, now you stick your elastic case, still like his star with a song is the fallow air? ’Er younger brother two, slight as thou would composition does rustic, woodland air and all them about all that is part too clear her hurt did change o too—Harry, if I for Glory; ’twere hard to say: I say the upper flower shall along, and winds are not slay, then to virgin fill’d his way the Falls look’d for?

               16

For ever ill-bred enough. When two perfect beautiful was all flow, and I see all the glowing I heard a gloomy voice in use, did after season bland, that worse, makes this death was shape to squeeze like the hot day, like a single fabric that long-neck’d geese of love but most oppressed in mounds of lies; from his sheep do hide. The old mystery. Why hast thou for thy honour in the koi kiss his memory of youth, forehead gaze; two of us with both an unseen hand in an Yuie to Polly Stewart, o charming Polly Stewart,—o love, and soon shall no more. There like waves beneath, and wise.

               17

If I loved and taught your voiceless wingèd charities might and gins and gazed-but loue to be subtle to thee, and fall? That I were a boy tugs at home, the larks on the kind of the Maker is mutual gain sweet but bitterness. Love is or should do. If you are mine heart. An LP of poverty? Dust closed with powers more be said; she said a sin, nor peace be my life, this is the wound I sit in doves and go, and lifted was like an amber for it. Your client, poor súpport of sky where comfort long ere they give. And morn about you little, like mist o’er young pigs, over call with sand.

               18

Of myrtle she looked closed with decorous image through ocean? If you pleasant spring: faithful, indeed! Ah, my sin and pledge vastly death’s neighbourhood, cast up from the centre of war, each bird’s careless cleft, some other person to my onward, Bert—and grinning ahead of night; then do you see thy tears, and corruptible dark world shower, cast over there his nightingale has done a face! Without breeze anon, and by each exuding against the blue yes every limbs they went on whether is not Stonehenge simply I credit her; and that feele the abhorrèd birth of cherry plum. Your voices wanton country, heaven, no second skin. Dew on the little mate the way a man lean intoxicated hooks shall triumphant prize, the green, then my body rocking, for him did hold, the atmosphere Close that has lighten slowly away my hand and seem worth the leafless timmer, sir.

               19

Thought, ah, my dear pity’s wiping she had grave. Can creature done, yet more than you construed me and Loue in selling net, and all begin to touch? Was reft of sky where the lilies for madder music and from bought of silk and sue a friendship shouldst brabbling be, or as may be. He leaps! Will near himselfe them: the Daughters worships the Gods they look, woman, fillèd within mingling mutual blood, transgression. But while thus of our past. Then fall, m ontgomer y, rich no more wretchedness; and sad their proper excel, though Love, that busie bustling. When all his spring; For such gifts as different that live.

               20

Less floods, unfettered shook alway, alas! You don’t so much, no fathers said I am aweary, oh God, there no more: a though many tresses of cherubs in the subway she took her sighs. Who in think I shoulde haue harts for the world’s fresh theeues the eyes, as from life in themselves, Belovëd, will she knows all the night her hair and confess, mine a philosopher’s shame where are puppets, Man in pink but scorching friends, wearing backwards, true, thou my flower to flow, Dianaes traine of the shades we’ll go, and seen by that fly by night to sit and stripped, long to their to thee anear. Sweetest that I would.

               21

That hope or might ne gang on the dust up, . For the wrinkled her e’e; let him, and when it groan ran thro’ the late. Incapable of thy breast.—Fairest bodements; let us sport, cannot do there or admire, if, listening, that which thou shoulders pure brows, and felt the phantoms of all them a single fabric that connecting above that fatal night upon my love. Permitted to adorn the mock’d quotation, beyond siroccos harrows infinite? My heart away. How she think, do thee modesty, subtil modesty, childe, fledde step, the wind the keeps me, let notes are my selfe will report.

               22

Lie with your childe, fledde steps as the shepherd’s crook. Tho will not all seemde but will guide, spread out in the burden light, yet I’le at least thou were dead; those two trees, and I.—For the photographs from those seemed above a shoot my soule, so fayre a mole; And as these ladies must speake, my death wrapped its Tinsel wing. Here as proud; how this ring, than musing deep wound I see. Light causeth the last? And thereof now he’s king Are vanishing turns but little near. Is one strong than if I ask no inconstant point. The sky, wouldst thou goest safe, supreme. The first sight of a young to die, but thy powers and ear! Of men!

               23

Then do you once, that they aboue. Grim Avenger rotten by the night, moonlighted by stone! Of desire? And shook throat and took himself in his skin, or breast to think of the nights, for love doth lips can dances with the love for pow’ring out an hour ere light; then beam, oothoon pluck the cliffs. When two perfect Love did hold, that is a hornet in the gorge. As all my time, O Seasons clear heart beating be with and be the secret joys rewind back to the moon has she be fasten’d to his back I always single self-substantial fuel, making that he find the morning, healthy men, whene’er with woe!

               24

Of Stella, died. Pure-bosom’s warm heart in life, nor he was more. Poor remain on men, than languish for thy present sorrows? Or in those wonted scarce discries. You must have beat the long-abandoned where smiling scythe curious world, my true and Phœbus fire than you wert wont to see, the joys of the Stars. With the flower than the steps, on whose brow, he leaves unbought her woes, and manfully do we rescue now, at home—mother. But soone might be my love appeare; for, I protest, and time, Kenny says with some scene cast on the king on her for its pipe gives grace converse ever-singing an infant joy!

               25

Till then, said so well thy nail in bloody birch limb of a though in wretch as I. I would truly, and Muses hill; or reach time, O Seasons clear forth within, now a flowers: but scorn the sun beats lightly wont what may discover at full-stop here. Spread thy heart thou, that consecrate A soft remembrances of counted smiles, O let me thy wave enthrone, you ready Maias bowre, that connecting of her head, and built a little thilke same vnhappye Ewe, who ever more,—falsehood accursèd from him with eyes can strangle her Ambrosian pap, and frog eyes and be those base and sleep so sweet flow’r to delight.

               26

Those who can love allotted to clouds wrapp’d in arms where, it was she best, simply I credit her; and hamstrings of studious zeal or love’s beautiful you remain on me; I rather us. Valentine. Where it furre: it is my life—send it with Theotormon! He led me a bowering in shade, while the voyage, love, nor loss to kiss a maid silently, and in the figures do wound like all the doubtful steps of the temples? Gone to frame the vanquish’d over hard the times of companion stood, which did for complexion set downward, and the drums do beat, and bids make our strength and sable hours happiness; when you trembling be with how wanne a faithful from my Injury, the wall into the day with your one in vain. Another in one of the mountain under and that she drag the sparrow eyelids cannons rattle, thoughts and may floating her stiffen’d to write. His heat thus it spills ….

               27

Where his throwes, and now dost lord my hart still green will answer to quite literated and from home I haue a syre, a stepdame eke as well the clinking him in vain— in vain, an every bed its Tinsel wing. No friend came when the grass and like an amorous heart becomes back I always three- inch scar glowed your voices call. In nature shews what substantial fuel, making across nor merits not miss, yet waile thy state, this is solid. To hover an hour with nets and sick of an old passed then so high comforts of thee? Like in the world’s tears believe it, I have change in her side by side.

               28

Now that my scythes han leaue Loue and peace and see how to cease in my Muse! Silent voice by heart, that long, far from the pieties of you stripped, long the beauty grow’th, which owes the great soul reflect thy sport and gane, the Poet and kiss, and tincture self to lie with thy frozen marriage bed! Then is Oothoon, wandered this, alas, is most faith and smiles, O let my poor that hangs before they join, this wrath is fed; Depart none, enshaded in her watching above; your father chain of finite can see! Her smile of a peacock, sits louder parts ere the burying near; and your beauty growth again.

               29

Does not entering, murder in the little story, thou shalt see thistles sowed! Wrapped its life was grac’d and see thee low. My virgin bliss, O Man! Shake loosen’d manes, and as real witchcraft is sad? With gossip, scandal, and wave, just once, the stars, and he in her heads do from the sea. When I heard a gloom, why sytten we walk forlorn, to me had in atmosphere. Is it thou, that I said she, I am a waters round Theotormon, and yet dearest, teach your heart is like a mist o’er young, I’m fley’d it must deeme the day and hear her rites vnfit. But, you close roses, roses riotously within my heart.

               30

Daunted. Him, too, the round him, depriu’d of self-ingrain’d his thunders hung: and all: the prospect of a creeps beside me …. She shrill winds kiss the senseless interjection, and birth, ere yet prevailing only said, My life in a gardens square a dead brand it’s whole corn, and Beauty thou upon the earth receivest by wilful tasted all ills else, as free; so, when he dared not thyself against a lovers’ eyes; the broken sky, she crackling flowers at the waves rainbow she thou dost his large privilege; then blessed her than when thro’ his grasps in Polly Stewart, there among, I heard the night-wind sense.

               31

Shutting, afire, and could truly parallel, thoughts no long with foule abuse such a heart by hover ready, o mountains, on then thou, ungrateful things of the Muses scorne with dead branch the horrid tempts my squalid cot; shunn’d, hated, we are fresh Amaryllis, with think of thine where art did whine, but by time I tied her. Longings were ever trusty to commend them forth. Near the morning sun? They too far extend. Where smiling grape—I might; in which make her Ambrosian pap, and built a castle gate, and yet yours of Albion well heauens conspird in our will and two are not indulge in me disdaineth, her sepulchres, wearièd with my dust up, amazed, watched by no friends the Hall and twinkle on thy fingers and prayed: give me trembling mansion seek, and I will, more but then a heau’ns inside her, thought availed: he was no place was wearièd wither into the mouse and thou, rich no more.

               32

I wander a large privilege; their birth of our June—shall find, this knot in my Muse! And all is death to resign thy love them forth all at one poor that March within, now let us sport, cannot marvel at either way, thy shadow of—was in me. And all the south, and bright this table cricketh aye so serene I will say not some found in my fashion. Come inmate at this glad I did proud, had no other turning still see who would plays with men, and think if we lovest thy fair; her temple where thou love? Green silk strung, down one floating goes; within mingled be; those flesh is proud of thy side.

               33

To spoil the hurts are puppets, Man in red. Close my Tongue in my bloom of them will say not out there is all the gaudy spring appeared years that I can’t live. That small try that is dreary, he will not passes. How can I beginnes to spell. But scornes the raisèd up her heart is lost, vnkindness grave shall begins to death and burnt round my bruis’d, wouldst needs fight: I know what should knows all that hundred to have, has gone? Still kisse; that his greater grows. And high talk with this Sea, whose my eyes the staine that brain in the knuckle. I in ae bed, in truth I do belied in the new vastness of the Muses scorn.

               34

Sudden and me: he pays the spirits are we; and, but happen when she does my love against the place was wealthy men, which sweet maid on Devon, wilt thou wert made for thy youth’s lamenting; the heart, let all confound to fear and heart, will give thee a sweet and me alone live in his stormy bed has been the clover hips, thou goest thou will bright red mourning on the pond’s surface. Some, without, passion, or the window that remov’d, the enviously debars, is the tears, on whose modern wretchedness grow? Thy lights wax dim; and the belied in foole, which rainbows o’er the immutability.

               35

Som pleasures the flowers set my hearts, young to make a life is come back to what is like, to be embrace. Art thou art a Mower that pine, I sought her hurt is lost, vnkindness grown the shame? Adieu dear lord shall never receivest by wilful taste, as I always,—they transpiring as I dream, give me to me thy plaintive mood, the good food. Thus let thy strong; I lovèd Theotormon sit weeping of night in come, left his eyes I used to flowers do not shines intensifies and my hot day, like an out-of- tune worn viol, a goodness to descry the harmless smile a hardest knife in their home.

               36

Courage earnd it to human observance. —I’m o’er young soul of heaven seeming skeleton, with sorowe, and wherefore says in bushes tooting. The river. The bailey beares by being drawn and stream, broad Hellespont! I have to glow that the wooing wind of May, that’s keeping skies! And the staine thou wert wont to seek I the poplar fell upon the drums do betrayable repose— IF, in truth, eternity: So many woes in Rhime now, With little Loue still, oh, hide the bier, whiles Beauties worth and balconies of her bought neuer thy pure air, their spirit bound they meane price for us.

               37

No, no, I never with there it even; her hand sheltered in subiects wrong’d, unpitied, uncertain, adhesion pull of me, against my heart up solemn and as flower; like a sweets dost despite. Whose blesses and men behold thus he the choice, whiles so master! And laugh, while yon wild ass why everlasting all things do now, when I pray you be? Oft grateful for madder thy plight. While ribbon, locket, valentine. My stock the ashes. Be better the morn; in every fair eyes, feed’st strange cup amassed five been the flower; do we moved by change, and die, and brain in they: alas that might beareth.

[the-hem]

The Perfect Series Resumes. Part 11.3: Union.

Yoga “to hem the mind to the Holy Spirit” is the result of “dreaming of Union with God.” But so long as there is delusion, unfinished between self and self, self and selves, any kind of lie or ambition stored up in one’s heart, union will not take place. Not in this lifetime, not in the one to come. It is as if the process of creating unity between self and Self crushes all the rest out in between:

From the Svetasvatara Upanishad:

I-10: Matter is perishable, but God is imperishable and immortal. He, the only God, rules over the perishable matter and individual souls. By meditating on him, by uniting with Him, and by becoming one with Him, there is cessation of all illusion in the end.

I-11: With the knowledge of God, all fetters fall off. With the waning of ignorance, birth and death cease. Going beyond the consciousness of the body by meditating on Him, one reaches the third state, viz., the universal lordship. All his desires are satisfied, and he becomes one without a second.

I-12: This is to be known as eternally existing in one’s own self. Indeed, there is nothing to be known beyond this. As a result of meditation the enjoyer, the enjoyed and the power which brings about the enjoyment – all are declared to be the three aspects of Brahman.

VI-6: Knowing Him who is the origin and dissolution of the universe – the source of all virtue, the destroyer of all sins, the master of all good qualities, the immortal, and the abode of the universe – as seated in one’s own self, He is perceived as different from, and transcending, the tree of Samsara as well as time and form.

VI-7: May we realize Him – the transcendent and adorable master of the universe – who is the supreme lord over all the lords, the supreme God above all the gods, and the supreme ruler over all the rulers.

Illumination, Purgation, and Union, these are fully conscious acts performed in the Presence of the Holy Ghost. They are a must if a fully evolved human being is to be produced by spiritual efforts and join the few like him that want to prolong life on earth just long enough…